A Fading Tradition

by citrusorange

Rating: everyone
Tags: Pharynx, Slice of Life, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Alternate Universe, Sad, Changelings, Thorax
Length: 2218

The changelings are no longer creatures of violence. They are no longer shady, private, hostile and fierce. They no longer are the acting steel hoof of Chrysalis' will. Time has changed them, and to Pharynx, it has changed them for the worse.

The days of fear, torture and fierce opposition is over in the changeling hives. There is no longer the need for an elite, combat-ready military ready to eviscerate, pillage and destroy whatever they are ordered to kill. There is no longer a hive, only a hollow shell of pony lights, pony love, pony customs and the fading of changeling tradition. As each day passes, the old 'Chrysalis' ways are replaced by perverted versions of 'Celestia' and her subordinates' disgusting aesthetic.

Pharynx didn't think he'd be alone in his thinking. He didn't think he'd be the only one who stood defiant, fierce and intimidating to those around him. He didn't think that they wouldn't understand. They had to understand. They were his own kin! They turn their backs to him, ignorant to the years they've all spent as warriors and guards, in exchange for a life of comfort and ignorance.

He didn't think the entire hive would betray him. He didn't think the outcasting would be so unabashedly obvious. Is this what Thorax felt when he left the hive? Was this fate's sick karma of tormenting him until the day he dies?

You abandoned your brother. Now, they all abandon you.

This was no longer home.

Created as a pick-me-back-into-writing-again-write-as-I-go-kind-of-like-this challenge for myself. Can't say I am completely satisfied with how I conveyed the story, but it did get me inspired again.

Source Image: https://www.deviantart.com/inuhoshi-to-darkpen/art/No-Need-for-a-Soldier-702973099

Published 2019-10-12 10:10:01 UTC
Last updated 2019-10-12 10:10:01 UTC

The Rebel of Love Bugs

Second window? Clear. Balcony where Thorax screams his blasphemy? Clear. The traitors below that sing his praise? No threats. All clear. Like always.

There Pharynx sat. Like he always did. There, Thorax stood. Like he always did.

Any stallion of security, home defense or even the generic guard duty always felt satisfied, complete that there was no threats to be had and no flanks to kick. Yet, those stallions always had the comfort of assumed eternal peace by their side, thus making their guard lax and unprepared. Pharynx refused to cave to those realizations as his kin had. There was no celebrations to be had in Pharynx's eyes. In any case, these transformations his kin have undertaken have been nothing short of a nightmare.

They no longer bare the dinks, scrapes, scratches and scars of their training, combat experience and close calls. No longer intimidatingly bulky, muscular and fangs sharpened to pierce flesh. The lack of unified eyes all now assembled in variant shades of color and even visible pupils have proven themselves to be distinctive by just existing rather than their evolutions or accomplishments. They were all unique by nothing but just breathing. Nothing earned. Only given.

He refused to transform like they had. Sharing love was the key to transforming, to becoming them. It never meant he didn't love his brother because he refused to change. Oh, he loved his brother Thorax no doubt. This whole act of 'sharing love' was something Pharynx came to the ultimatum that he would never do. Even if it killed him, he wouldn't dare shatter his own convictions for the sake of others' comfort. That simply isn't what Pharynx would do. A good Pharynx would await his orders, a good Pharynx would await his signal to strike, a good Pharynx would never be led astray from the mission. Yet, a good changeling does those all the same.

Pharynx's ear flicked as Thorax's voice boomed to announce another quick topic to fawn and gush over about the ponies. The changelings underneath him would follow suit as he explained whatever it was. Pharynx didn't care. He only frowned menacingly as the unrivaled cheers overpowered his single, carapace-melting silent jeer. Back to his thoughts.

None of these were good changelings, and by logic to Pharynx, Pharynx was the only good changeling left that he knew. It was heartbreaking. It wasn't as if these changelings were evil. No, Pharynx didn't love being evil, but he certainly didn't love being a love bug. It's why he refuses the transformation at all costs. He at least maintains the integrity of the Hive. They do not. His brother, does not.

They dance on the Hive's integrity, the centuries of tradition and history in exchange for a foreign culture. An alien culture that offers nothing that the Hive has ever offered in its' existence. The Hive keeps everything and everyling orderly and compact, all in the same of practicality. It was an honor to be within that system, and here, as he glances about the newly "upgraded" 'ling kingdom, it's a bunch of chaotic drivels they dare call towns and hamlets sprawled across the now-growing Badlands. He almost let a scoff escape him as Thorax raved about some ponies who helped him wipe his flank and serve him his breakfast this morning. Okay, that was an exaggeration. BUT! It was still some group of ponies' actions or something.

To be fair, the growth of the Badlands back to a semblance of grass and forestry is welcoming. However, on the other side of the coin, it offers softness and shade from the harsh environment. The environment the Hive thrived in. Another identity of a true 'ling's pride gone. There is no longer a changeling guard hiding in case something were to go awry, or a dispatched patrol of homeland infiltrators investigating for enemy Hive presence or even assumed pony infiltration. It was peace.

A horrible, horrible peace.

"Thank you all!" Thorax smiled, stepping down from the small podium on the balcony the two were situated at. The crowd remained abuzz and happy. Happiness was something they were allowed for but on good reason, Pharynx mused. They cheer pony names, and talk about how great the ponies are while silently insulting the centuries of their ancestors fighting and surviving for them to sit here. Talking about them so negatively. Trashing them.

If Pharynx was king, he'd... he'd..

"Brother?" Thorax had managed to teleport to Pharynx. Or it could be he zoned out. It didn't matter, because Pharynx had already pinned his ears back and flared his wings intimidatingly as he frowned at his brother.

"What is it, Thorax?" Pharynx grunted.

"You look.. not fine today. Are you okay?" Thorax had a tendency of asking that question to his brother. It grated on his brain and thundered in his skull every time Thorax said something. Pharynx's lips curled as his temper flared yet again.

"Ask me that question again and I'm gonna be more than 'not fine', Thorax."

Thorax jerked away, as if struck. Pharynx found himself smirking ever so slightly at the feeling of still being the top dog, the big bad wolf that Thorax always stammered and mumbled at. He would have chuckled if he felt the same about every other 'ling cowering beneath him. But he didn't. He felt like an old record in the dusty closet with no lights while everyone else was a CD reflecting the rainbow-esque gradient from the sun. There was nothing to be superior over when you were looked at as ponies look at changelings. By changelings. He was a bug to them. A danger to their safety. A frightening, towering tyrant who was ready to kick their sand castles down.

He couldn't say he denied it.

"Brother, I- I just feel as if you.. have not been yourself, lately. An- And I know as much as you don't like Twilight and the others.." Thorax drifted off, looking at the ground.

Pharynx frowned, staring down at his brother. "Go on."

Thorax said something that did not register to Pharynx. Something else was tugging at Pharynx's focus, something so compelling that his legs were starting to have phantom aches from their lack of walking. The child-like, weak voice of his brother faded away in Thorax's ears as he hummed bitterly and started walking away. He ignored the surprised cries of Thorax before he felt his brother's presence hurry aside him, asking where he was going.

Pharynx licked his fangs. Thorax would never understand. He rounded a corridor that led down the staircase to Thorax's kingdom. And Pharynx's chambers. The staircase was guarded by two brightly colored changelings. Despite the staircase's arch being so wide, the two guards found themselves parting even their own space and air in favor of clinging to the walls just so that they wouldn't even have the misfortune as to stand in the air that Pharynx exhaled.

Thorax didn't even seem to notice, only walking down after Pharynx, asking him incessantly where he was going and what he was doing. "I'm goin' to find Ocellus. She's visit'n, isn't she?"

Thorax continued trailing after Pharynx. He never bought the lie, and was still adamant in following. The chambers. The staircase was leading to Pharynx's chambers. Or was this feeling leading him down to the kingdom? It didn't matter. What was done was done. Thorax's policies were blasphemic to Pharynx, and that was that. Pharynx would ensure the kingdom's safety while maintaining his reputation as an unlikable, tyrannical beast of a changeling that didn't deserve anything that was given to him. If he had anything given to him.

Pharynx scoffed this time, not noticing Thorax's ended pursuit of him not too long ago. Must've known that Pharynx was going to his chambers. He stepped onto the small platform connecting to the doorway in this level of the staircase. This would lead to the hallway, and ultimately to his chambers. No one would dare disturb him down here, except for some dumb pony that would even dare to investigate the unusual smell. The smell of brimstone and Hive. A perfect concoction that often gave a silent lullaby to many sleepless nights that Pharynx has had.

Silently, he entered the hallway. The window-less door shut, encapsulating Pharynx into a room of green-lit darkness. Oh, how he loved the walls. They emulated the old caverns of the Hive nicely. Menacing, black willow stretching horrendously down. Branches, trunks, bark of all shapes and sizes yet one color of jet black looping and crashing over and through one another to complete the wall. Igniting vision for this room was the layers of translucent mint green slime caking the walls, lighting the pathway in the nightmarish dark.

What was even more impressive with the slime was the delicate scratching and writing of changeling history and accomplishments as well as ALL of the past monarchs that ruled over this Hive written in the Old Script lettering. Pharynx spent days, weeks, months, maybe even years delicately weaving the story of his people into this slime for him to reminisce on. The frown he permanently wore melted and meshed into a frightening smile, complete with fangs and the tightening of the eyes. To the casual changeling however, it was a smile of reverie.

"What a run to have," Pharynx smiled, eyeing the walls in admiration. "Survivin' for so long.." He looked over the walls. The tale of Chrysalis' expansion of the Hive, birthing a then-record three-hundred-and-seventy-four changelings, all she loved dearly. Then, the Great Starvation. This expansion had caused massive starving within the Hive, and thus the increase of love collection on ponies tripled as more drones were sent out to collect it. It would prove for naught, as many would die of starvation and cause a widespread panic among the Hive.

The Great Invasion would then be the solution to this, and it was right there! RIGHT there to be won! Pharynx was part of that vanguard that assisted Chrysalis in seizing the ponies, even if they never knew at the time. It was the highest of honor to serve the Queen so closely during The Great Invasion. It was all going according to plan...

The smile disappeared, replaced with a bitter scowl. "Ruined by ponies," he spat. They were no warriors. They were nothing but hatchlings spouting incompetence and ignorance. As Sombra, Tirek, Cozy Glow, and many other future threats to Equestria would learn. That day, Pharynx learned, and Sombra should've thought twice his second round.

The ponies are incredibly, stupidly, unbelievably lucky. They could find an ancient power source by pure, unadulterated luck and convenience. There was NEVER skill or tact with their moves, NEVER any thought behind their "great" accomplishments. It was all by chance. By pure luck. It was as if some higher being was messing with him! With the rest of them! The ponies were some sort of sacred thing they could never harm! Because every time they did, they'd win by stupid luck! Seriously? The power of LOVE? The power of FRIENDSHIP? THAT led them to the Heart of whatever in the Crystal whatever? THAT DID? The blast that ruined everything and had weakened Chrysalis? How does the incompetence of a single 'ling cause that? At the very least, it should've just been a setback to their invasion, not the by-all-end-all!

Pharynx seethed, smashing a hoof into the ground as he bounded for the door that led to the staircase.

"We were once something to be feared! Nightmares of ponies! Now we talk like them, act like them, be like them, for what?! WE are CHANGELINGS! We are NOT ponies! We do not huddle in fear because some scary-lookin' thing is attackin' em! We fight! We survive! Why doesn't any of them understand that? Why is Thorax so set on being a pony? If he wants to be one, be one! Change into it! Don't bring US into it! He didn't want to change into a pony to help the Hive all those years ago! Why does he want to NOW?" Pharynx roared in the hallway, stomping towards the door.

"Why won't they understand? Just because they change doesn't mean they forget.." The anger died in his throat as he stopped short of the door, staring at it. None will understand! Why won't they understand? They just.. they treat him like.. Why?!

His wings buzzed as he opened the door, grimacing as he hovered himself down the staircase to ground level. It was a small door that led to the outside, and it was one that Pharynx pushed open effortlessly as he had mentally braced himself for the reaction he'd always get.

Smiles dropping, thin lines for mouths, and wide eyes staring at him as they parted in two whichever way he walked. Colorful, vibrant, innocent beings staring, gawking at the monotonous, dangerous vibe of the single Pharynx that walked. He long since forgotten how to feel terrible for whenever they'd point and whisper to each other theatrically. To him, it was just part of the shtick.

His wings buzzed again as he took off at a blurring speed. These aren't changelings. They're just freakshows of ponies.

Pharynx has to get away. This feeling was tugging him elsewhere.