Ever since The Love Barrier was shot and expanded, more and more changelings began shorting out of their disguise. The less-experienced ones would panic and immediately turn hostile out of fear, while those living around ponies for decades or more would know to throw up their hooves into the sky.

The first hour was tense, but manageable. With most of the royal guards freed from their bindings, they worked overtime in detaining and containing revealed changelings in holding cells all over the city. With a rate of revelation of 30 changelings an hour, they thought it could be done. Just catch them, and put them in jail. No muss, no fuss.

Problems arose when that rate climbed exponentially. More and more changelings popped out left and right. From lower class ponies, to even several nobles.

Royal guards galloped around trying to control the panicking crowd, which proved impossible considering how most of the changelings would - shockingly - surrender themselves in peace. Prisoner laws stated that a peaceful surrenderer should be treated with fairness. The royal guards had to split their already diminished numbers to process those who surrendered, which meant even fewer guards to calm the roused city.

The mass panic did wonders for the entire city’s overall ambiance, if you were to look at it from Discord, the God of Chaos’ lenses. Buildings smashed and vandalized, some in various severity of destruction. Carts and wagons upturned. Various building pieces scattered all over the streets. The previously serene ancient city was reduced into a colourful mix of ruins.

Ponies galloping left and right without care nor directions, only a frightened set of instincts telling them to run. Crowds would inevitably form into a stampede, until another changeling flew directly above them, and then the crowd would split and scatter once more.

Lesser experienced changelings would panic and drown in their defensive instincts, hissing against ponies and guards that would try and get closer to them. Those with magical capabilities would fire off magic shots in reckless abandon, hurting several ponies, but mostly causing property destruction. It took everything the exhausted and severely underponied guards to pacify even one of them.

Even worse was the fact that as the revelations went on, several high-profile guards were also revealed to be changelings, and even a police commissioner, who went up and walked into a cell by himself.

“What are you doing?” High Skies asked towards the commissioner-revealed-changeling, incredulity apparent on his face and in his emotions.

The elderly commissioner changeling, with bright green eyes and carapace, and the trusty beret he’d never ever take off even for the princesses, shrugged. “Well, I thought I’d ease the process for you guys. I locked myself in, see?”

“Okaaayy... What about this guy? Isn’t he one of your guys?” The pegasus guard craned his neck to point at the changeling on his back. A nondescript common changeling with purple carapace.

The elder changeling glanced and shook his head. “Purple carapace. Not of my hive.”

“There’s multiple hives?!” Skies shrieked, his white uniformed face going even paler than normally possible. With the crashing and stomping noises all around the city worsening, the prospect of having even MORE changelings really didn’t sit right with him.

“Well, I guess? I know there’s more than one, is all. Not everypony I saw walking on the streets are ponies, after all, but I can’t differentiate beyond who’s of my hive and who’s not,” the elder changeling explained.

Skies lightly hopped on his hooves, sweating as the situation worsened by the minute. The elder changeling could sense his massive anxiety brewing. “Dammit, what the buck’s happening?! What should I do with him, then? Who’s going to process the paperworks? WHERE IS EVERPONY?!”

“Well, there’s nopony but me. The changelings of our station were already jailed, and the ponies ran away,” the elder changeling said. “I’m here just to wait for when my disguise inevitably shorts completely.”

Skies shivered in fear, his heart doped even harder on adrenaline as panic kicked in full force. “My goodness, Celestia above, HOW MANY PONIES DID YOU ALL REPLACE?” he shrieked.

“Not a single one,” the elder changeling answered, his calm demeanor unchanging against the sudden confusion that washed over Skies. “We’re not savages, Corporal High Skies. We forge new identities for every new nymph we have.”

“Tch, and you expect me to believe that?” Skies scoffed, awkwardly. He finally managed to open a cell and deposited the changeling inside.

“Well, I can show you if you want.” The elder changeling called for him to bring the changeling’s ID with him. He was reluctant, but curiosity quickly overtook his professionalism. After all, he wasn’t that eager to return back into the sea of chaos happening on the streets.

The elder changeling didn’t give his guest time to speak up when he offered him his own ID. “Here, compare my ID to that changeling’s ID, then to your own ID. See if you can spot the difference.”

Skies snatched the ID from the elder changeling’s hoof and quickly sat on his haunches, comparing the two IDs, and then his own ID.

• Name : Grease Gun*

On the elder changeling’s ID was written:

• Name : Tough Warden*

Lastly, on his own ID was written:

• Name : High Skies

Skies slowly touched a hoof to his forehead as his eyes widened. “Holy smokes, even in the IDs they’re noted who’s a changeling and who’s not!”

Warden swiped the ID back from Skies and pocketed it under his elytra. “Yep. Always has been.”

Skies took a step back, and another one for good measure. “B- but how? The Census Bureau is easily the oldest civil organization in Canterlot, and is headed by the Princesses themselves! How did all of you infiltrate that deep? Since when has this been happening?”

Warden shrugged. “Beats me. Been like that since forever.”

“How did nopony ever see this? Better yet, why was this even like this? Why was there no investigation upon this in like, at all? Holy Celestia, I have to report this!” Skies galloped out of the building, before flying as fast as he could straight towards the barracks. He could only hope that none of the captains were also changelings.

“But- but you don’t have to go, Windy. Please!”

“I’m sorry, Rex, but I have to.”

Inside a house somewhere in Canterlot, a pony and a changeling argued. Nevermind the panic and hysteria outside, nevermind their adoptive colt sleeping upstairs, and definitely nevermind the guards pounding at their door. They had an argument that needed settling, and the world will pause for them if it has to.

“W- Windy! O- okay, I get it, you’re a changeling, always were, okay. I- I can accept that, I guess, I- uhh, you can’t say it to me, I understand, but please, for the love of Luna, don’t leave! Don’t leave me!” Rex hugged from behind, his tears wetting the changeling’s chitin-plated back carapace.

“R- Rex, I don’t want to do this too, but- but my queen ordered me to surrender myself peacefully for now. Everyling is doing that right now, I- I can’t just went up and escape!” Windy admitted. “I- I won’t leave you, ever! I promise! This is temporary, Rex, please don’t b- be like this.” Her pupiless green eyes watered.

“Do you expect me to believe that?” Rex challenged. “I don’t even see any sort of message written anywhere. Not a single letter, not a single word. Please, I- I don’t know what I did wrong, but you can’t leave me, please!”

Windy let her body sag. “I- it’s… hard to explain. The queen can spread mass, one-way telepathic messages. All of us were instructed to surrender, so- so I have to, Rex. I’m sorry for a lot of things, too, but I have to go, Rex,” she pleaded.

Rex’s heart skipped a beat. “S- so, it’s all lies, then? I- You- You don’t love me, right? You’re changelings, of course… You follow your queen and not... Y- you only want me to love you, and not-” His words were cut off by a return hug. Strong and firm, yet gentle and caring.

“No, don’t talk like that, Rex. I love you, forever and always. We changelings can love too, you know? And I know that I love you,” Windy affirmed, hugging her husband tighter.

“B- but then, why-”

“Our queen is more like a mom, Rex. And you know what ponies say: Moms knows best.” Windy released her hug, cupping Rex’s wet cheeks, nuzzling his muzzle. “I promise, with all my being, that I’ll be back. Or at the very least, I’ll stay in touch, alright?”

*bang bang bang*

Rex lifted a hoof and wiped Windy’s bead of tears. “O- okay, okay, fine. I- I’ll take your word for it, but there will be a lot of explaining to be done once you’re back, alright? There’s some stern talking to be done.”

Windy smiled, letting go of her husband. “And I wouldn’t have it any other way. Bye, Rex. Keep the baby safe.”

“I will. Stay safe, you.”

Windy nodded. She took a deep breath as she opened the front door, ready to face the music.

“If y’all’ll jus’ let us explain-”

“There ain’t no explainin’ t’ be done, ya snivelin’ swines! What did all’a y’all done to th’ Apple family?”

“Ah told yer grey flanks, we’re all th’ Apple fam’ly!”

“An’ Ah told’ja Ah ain’t buying that nonsense, ya poor excuse ‘f Braeburn wannabe. Yer jus’ a buncha liars like the creeps all’a y’all’re, changelings!”

Wind softly blew as tumbleweed rolled along in reckless abandon. The town of Appleloosa was deadly quiet as could be, except for the two leaders of the two groups, standing off against each other. Head to head, with sandbag walls facing each other.

On one side were the ponies, led by none other than Sheriff Silverstar, the chief sheriff of Appleloosa. The mustached brown stallion with his namesake as cutie mark stood on one side, with a catapult in his hooves, aiming against the leader of the other side.

That other side was led by a changeling claiming to be Braeburn, one of the most successful new-age settlers of the Apple family. Of course, without a disguise, he looked almost perfectly similar with his fellow changelings, with red eyes and elytra. The red-eyed changelings armed with planks, pots, and pans hid behind their own wall as ‘Braeburn’ stood just as tall as Silverstar, the two locked in a staring contest of submission.

They tried to solve the issue diplomatically, tried being the keyword. The sudden appearance of tens of changelings was immediately mistaken as a show of force and intimidation. Under Silverstar’s leadership, the ponies of Appleloosa organized themselves into a group of their own, and began hurling everything they could find towards the changeling mass. The changelings, surprised, retaliated.

While the ponies outnumber the changelings 4 to 1, the latter had more magical assistance in their disposal, leveling the odds. One thing led another and eventually the two groups hunkered down behind the impromptu defenses they made. The fighting eventually ceased, but the tension never left.

“Dunno how’d y’all done did all ‘em Apples, Cherries, and Hays, but Ah’ll admit ya got balls, takin’ over all them big families. Ah’ll say it once more, changeling: where’d’ja keep all them An’ dont’cha play smart with me, Ah’m talkin’ ‘bout th’ fam’lies.” Silverstar pulled his catapult. “Answer, or Ah’ll shoot.”

“Colt, yer as stubborn as an illegal mule, Ah told’ja we’re all th’ Apples. We ain’t never been no ponies!” ‘Braeburn’ aimed his plank back. “It ain’t like we have a darn reason to just went up and yodel us bein’ changelin’s an’ all.”

“Ah shut yer yappin’. If ya ain’t confessin’, we’ll do this th’ hard way.” Silverstar craned his neck towards his crowd. “CALL TH’ DARN BUFFALOES ALREADY!”

“Hey!” ‘Braeburn’ called. “You ain’t just did that!”

“Ah just did,” Silverstar replied. “Will ya rather tell us where’d’ja keep th’ Apples, or’d rather we do this like stallions?”

“Tch, if yain’t gonna hear us none, then bring it on!”

Right on cue, as if anticipating the declination, a sudden rumble shook the entire town as buffaloes emerged from all hidden corners, charging directly against the changelings’ positions. Braeburn was taken aback at the intrusion, but quickly recovered and yelled a warning just before the first buffalo charge, led by none other by the Buffalo Chief Thunderhooves himself, burst through the fortifications and began their stampede.

“ATTACK!” “DEFEND!” both Silverstar and ‘Braeburn’ ordered.

The ponies took charge with bats and pans raised, trailing behind the buffaloes. The changelings defended with their own set of impromptu weaponry. The few with magic launched magic attacks against their attackers; not affecting the buffaloes and their thick hides.

‘Braeburn’ leaped against a charging buffalo, before weaving away from another, and finally landing his plank into the face of another, sending him down in a daze. Ducking from a ponies’ pan, he spun and landed a buck into the face of said pony, sending her crashing against her comrades. A set of hooves dug into his carapace as a pegasus did his tackling run, sending both of them sailing upwards. ‘Braeburn’ grunted and drove a leg into a wing joint, stunning the pegasus. The two lost velocity as they came hurtling down.

Silverstar charged with his fellow ponies, shooting rocks with his catapult towards every changeling he could see. The effectiveness of his weapon dropped significantly as the battle devolved from an organised two-sided fight into a messy all-town brawl. He tackled a changeling, bucked him into an alley, and ran through the town in hopes of finding the leader changeling, whom he assumed assumed the identity of Braeburn.

His target landed in front of him from the sky, using the now-dazed pegasus as cushion. Silverstar took his chance and bucked the still-recovering changeling with a powerful rear buck. ‘Braeburn’ sailed through the air, crashing through a saloon wall, and against the counter. His back chitin cracked, an elytra snapped in half. The changeling grunted as energy left his being along with his breath.

Silverstar lifted Braeburn on his neck and growled right in front of him, muzzle to muzzle. “Ah’m not goin’ ta dally: tell me where’s Braeburn, and Ah’ll spare yer sorry buggy flank.”

‘Braeburn’ coughed and wheezed, before eventually steadying his breath. “Y- ya jus’ don’ wanna accept th’ truth…”

Enraged, Silverstar pulled his other hoof and prepared a punch, but a sudden bout of rattling pain struck through his skull as the loud bang of circular metal against bone rang through the room. Time stood still as the sheriff flopped backwards, onto the floor, curling himself into a fetal position as he clutched his sore head.

A changeling with white eyes peered over the comically large frying pan he’s holding and offered a holey hoof to ‘Braeburn’. “Need any help?”

‘Braeburn’ shook the cobwebs out of his head and took the offer, slowly getting back up on his four hooves. “Ugh, darn, that’ll sprain fer days. Who’re you, white eyes?”

“Cloudsdale subhive, under Queen Clypeus,” the other changelings answered. “The pegasi kicked all changelings out with brute force. They won’t accept a surrender, so we bailed. We saw the fight from the air, so we decided to visit. You guys good, here?”

‘Braeburn’ laughed. “As good as it’s gonna be. What now?”

“We’re heading over to the plains north of Canterlot, on our hive-operated train maintenance depot. I suggest you come with us, rather than…” the other changeling gestured towards the fightings on the streets. “...this.”

“Darn shame Ah can’t stay in mah own darn town,” ‘Braeburn’ muttered. “Ahh, fine, Ah’ll go with ya. Let me rally th’ troops just a bit. Oh, an’ send a message t’ mah queen back in Ponyville. Ya know her, right?”

“Yeah, her apple pies are the best. Let’s go.”

The other changeling and ‘Braeburn’ nodded to each other, and stormed out of the saloon to complete their new objectives.

Braeburn flew up high above all the chaos of battle, took a great big gulp of air, and screamed. “EV’RYLING RETREAT! RETREAT!! FOLLOW THEM WHITE-LINGS AND LET’S GET THE DARN HAY OUTTA DODGE!

The order was shouted so loudly that literally all creatures fighting stopped and took a glance into the sky, where a single ‘ling hovered. The changelings, ponies, buffaloes, and even the lone griffon playing a saloon fight music on the public piano looked at each other in confusion.

“Y’ALL CRACKY CARAPACES DEAF? LET’S BUCKING GO AND GIT!”

The changelings snapped from their lapse and buzzed their wings. It took several seconds for every pony and buffalo to realize that the changelings were in fact retreating. The few pegasi still breathing tried to give chase, but were held back in magic by their unicorn peers, all of whom saw the hoof gesture Sheriff Silverstar made to signal a complete stop in actions.

He looked at the thinning cloud of carapace as they flew away, before screaming his vest off, “Don’t y’all ever come back!”. Outwards, he turned towards the nearest pony with a relieved sigh. “Let ‘em be. We all have a town t’ fix.”

The fighting ended as fast as it started, which sent the Appleloosians further into the spiraling confusion. Why did the changelings attack some random frontier town? Why were they adamant of it being their home? Why do they claim they were the ponies they impersonated, even after the gig was up? Was it really like how it looked? Thousands of questions, all left unanswered.

They eventually dispersed in a thick, heavy, awkward silence, all trying and failing to either make sense or forget of the events that had transpired.

They could only hope that the changeling threat was over.

Author's Note

[06/06/2021]Changelog:

• Edited grammar and some other tiny things
• Increased collective IQ