”Sir, we're almost done.”

The commander nodded, his expression as blank and unreadable as ever. The poor ling giving the report shuddered.

They'd all had their hooves full with preparing the Cauliflower for evacuation when, for reasons unknown to him, the commander requested him by name. Which could mean many things, but certainly nothing good.

Strictly speaking, changelings are physically unable to sweat. This did not stop this poor soul from trying.

Don't look, don't look, don't look-

The chief ignored him for now, as his focus was dedicated to a figure bound to a chair in front of him. The hum of magic filled the room - it was the only sound, if one discounted the underling’s anxious breathing - and sickly green power reached from the commander's horn. Ripping, tearing, and obliterating everything it touched. Every memory. Every bit of personality. Until nothing remained but a thoughtless, empty drone.

Why? Why didn't you just run when you had the chance?

”We're ready to extract,” the ling continued, desperately wanting to hear something other than that terrible hum, even if it was his own voice. ”Just awaiting further orders, commander sir.”

It was strange to this ling. The commander remained in his unicorn form even now, while using magic so alien to ponies.

Thinking about it, he never saw the commander out of disguise. Ever. Of course, they all tried to keep their disguises as long as possible; shifting costs magic, and using more magic meant more hunger. But watching a unicorn do what the commander was doing was simplytoo wrongon too many levels.

Or maybe it was just him, who couldn't link a pony face, even the commander's false one, to the word murderer.

”Good.” The commander answered, tone unaffected and casual. ”Burn it all, leave nothing behind.”

The underling gulped, risking a glance at the corner of the room where the other one ‘rested’.

Motionless. Blank. Empty.

”And… them?” the ling asked quietly.

The commander's face hardened.

”I reiterate,” the commanders said. ”Burn it all. Leave. Nothing.”

Tarsus. Palp.

No, the ling realized. It was not them. Palp and Tarsus were his friends. The lings with whom he shared a cramped living space, with whom he saw every sunrise, and with whom he joked and laughed about the mundane absurdities of their existence. And they weren't here anymore. What was with him in this room were just… shells.

You went back for a pony. Because leaving them behind would mean dooming them. Because you feared becoming monsters. Because you were sick of them making us into monsters.

You wanted to do what was right.

And now, you're gone.

It was a strange train of thought for him. This ling never thought of himself as particularly rebellious. He conformed. He said and did what was expected of him, kept his silly musings to himself, and survived. That’s what everyling did, really. They were changelings. They adapted, and they survived.

Sure, it was sad when they had to hurt ponies. But that was just a part of being a changeling, right? Many lings hated ponies. Hated them for not knowing true hunger, hated them for living such easy lives. And hated them because someling else told them to.

But he didn't hate ponies. Not really. If anything, he envied them a little. Sometimes he even wished he could be a pony for real. (Something which he was a little embarrassed about and only told his brother about, who laughed at him for a little before he got really serious and told him to keep it to himself and absolutely never tell anyling. His brother could be a little prickly like that.)

Yes. This ling didn't hate ponies. But as he stared at the corpses of his two friends, he was starting to think he might hate the hive and those who ruled it.

I'm sorry. Palp. Tarsus. Friends. You deserved better.

…We all deserve better.

”My my, haven't you made a proper mess of things.” came a sultry voice from a black crystal sitting on the commander's desk, startling the ling and stopping his musings in their tracks.

He knew the voice. Everyling in the Hive knew that voice.

The chief harrumphed while the underling's eyes bugged out in lymph-chilling horror.

”My Queen,” the commander stated with the same easy indifference he showed to everyone. ”I assure you that while the loss of Cauliflower is unfortunate, it was inevitable.”

Chrysalislaughed. The queen actually laughed. At this point, the poor ling didn't know if he should question his commander's sanity, or his own.

”Inevitable?” the queen asked, her voice sounding almost amicable, if not for the sarcasm dripping from each syllable like the most vicious venom. ”Is that what you call your failures now, marshall?”

The ling gulped. Was the queen talking about… that? Were the rumors actually true?

”Yes,” the chief answered, ignoring the jab. ”With untrained, unprofessional personnel who don't follow orders and don't even know how to dispose of bodies properly, our discovery was only a matter of time.”

The underling stared at the commander, mouth agape in disbelief.

This was how the commander talked to the queen? Did he want to end up in a recycling vat?

He paused. It was plausible. He never believed in those rumors, but if it was truly him - if this was truly the former marshall of the hive…

He had lost everything - his accomplishments struck from the wall of deeds, his titles stripped, and his very name forbidden. Ending up relegated to run an insignificant love gathering facility for the rest of his life, denied even the dignity of death - of returning his magic to the Hive.

The commander stepped closer to the crystal, his face betraying nothing.

”I've warned you repeatedly, my queen,” - the commander somehow managed to say the word queen like it was an insult, despite his voice staying as monotone as always - ”that upping love gathering quotas was unsustainable from the beginning. Reassigning my trained lings elsewhere only exacerbated the issue.”

The underling gulped. A pause fell on the room. The oily black crystal on the commander's desk was silent for a moment, waiting to deliver its judgment.

”Why did you call me, ex-marshall?” The queen spoke again, her voice sharp as a dagger.

”I have new information,” the commander answered simply.

”New information?” Chrysalis said, and he would swear he heard the queen smirking through the crystal, clearly amused by the notion. ”What information could you have that is of any interest to me?”

”I've learned of a method to remove the alicorn princess. Permanently.”

Again, silence befell the room. The commander turned to the underling, who stood off to the side, still quietly hoping that he had somehow learned to turn into a chameleon, or failing that, a potted plant.

”Start the evacuation,” the commander said to him. ”Make your way to the safe house. I will join you shortly.” The ling gave him a quick salute. His head swam with thoughts and conflicting emotions, so he was more than eager to get away from this situation.

Everyling in the Hive had felt for a while that something big was coming. The infiltrators were assigned en masse to secret missions noling knew anything about. Their love gathering was becoming more and more aggressive to fulfill greater and greater demands, without anyling ever tasting one surplus drop. The masquerade protocol was breaking and the Queen hardly seemed to care.

He now knew why.

She is preparing for war.

”And Thorax?” the commander said suddenly, his back still turned to the ling. The changeling in question froze, fear gripping his heart.

He didn't believe the rumors. Not at first. But if they were true...

The scourge of the Eastern Hive. He who makes them kneel. For we render unto Queen's will, her enemies we slay. But for the Willbreaker's foes, we can only pray.

”Yes, sir?” Thorax managed to say, his voice brittle and trembling.

”Don't let me catch you having doubts again,” the commander said, motioning for the doors. ”Dismissed.”

Thorax gave a small bow, backing off of the room.

And then he tripped.

The commander scoffed and shook his head. Thorax was mortified as he got up, muttering apologies and further tripping over his own hooves in his haste and panic.

Then he noticed the lump on the carpet over which he tripped.

And the shining silver coin laying there.

Thorax grabbed it and exited the room without saying another word, leaving the Queen and Marshall to plan and scheme their war.

Special Agent Sweetie Drops wasn’t having a good day. .

And, to her great displeasure, it was getting worse.

Her head was pounding. Her teeth itched. She was battered, tired and on the verge of trying to stab her seat cushions. Everything was getting hazy and, right now, she was furious.

The Cauliflower was no more.

She tried telling herself that she’d done what she could. Immediately after her escape, she’d rallied the guards and had them storm the building.

What they’d found was a smoldering ruin.

She’d failed her mission. Failed spectacularly, in fact. A group of magic-eating beasts were running amok in her homeland and she failed to stop them or uncover their plans.

Beasts? Are they truly?

They had found one remnant - the pony trapped in the vat. A guard found her wandering the streets in a daze. The only thing she remembered was green fire and a voice telling her to run.

And then there was the one who started this whole sorry thing. A deserter who freed another two of their victims only to end up floating down the Manehattan river without a boat.

Her name was Tenna. Like Antenna?

It all raised so many questions and she had no answers for any of them.

And so, when the agent made her way from the train to the platform of Ponyville station, her mind was entirely preoccupied with conflicting thoughts and emotions. No one could blame her for taking far too long to notice a certain speedy pegasus calling for her.

”Bon Bon!”

The agent stopped, turning sharply to see a mostly cyan blur flying towards her at a frankly ridiculous speed - but who came to a stop only a few feet away from her.

Now, Bon Bon didn't know Rainbow Dash that well. They were friendly, but they weren't really friends. Dash was more Lyra's friend, and they'd known each other even before Bon Bon moved to Ponyville.

But despite that, Bon Bon could immediately see that something had happened. Rainbow didn't look well. She was fidgety, panicked, and almost as disheveled as the agent was - and she'd just fought and escaped a secret invasion force, spent twelve bloody hours on a train, and hadn’t showered since yesterday.

Suffice to say, finding Dash waiting for her at the train station in that state rang all the alarm bells for the agent.

”Dash?” Bon Bon asked. ” What happened?”

”It's Spring,” Rainbow gasped out, nearly out of breath - she had probably flown all around Ponyville trying to find her until she saw the train come to the town and put two and two together.

”She's in the hospital.”

”–physically, there is nothing wrong with—.”

”–then why isn't she waking—!”

”–you don't know—!?”

”We tried the scanner. It blew the second we turned it on, its-”

”Ain't my fault,” Anon mumbled, the voices around her suddenly turned quiet. ”It was on fire when I got there, officer. I swear.”

Anon's eyes fluttered open, with her head spinning and stomach swimming. Everything felt fuzzy and something was weighing on her ribs. Something beige.

On instinct - her old, overtrained, and distrustful instincts - the jumper flinched, expecting pain or an attack or at least something bad to happen. But to her great confusion, bad things continued to not happen. It took an embarrassingly long moment before the gears spinning in Anon's head finally clicked and things became clear.

Ah, that's just Bon Bon hugging me.

And then, on an entirely different instinct - one quite new and foreign to Anon - her own hoof moved and hugged the mare back. The jumper was suddenly overcome with a feeling of… safety? Because of course nothing bad was happening. Bon Bon was here.

”Spring!” came a yelp from a minty green, vaguely Lyra-shaped blur. ”Are you alright?”

Thrown back to reality, the jumper gave a nod, letting go of Bon Bon. ”Yeah, I’m just a little queasy-”

It was then when Anon realized she was lying on a bed in a clean white room being stared at by one very confused doctor and two of her very concerned parents guardians.

”Eh, this is probably a stupid question,” Anon said, suddenly feeling very foolish. ”But what happened?”

The adults exchanged another worried look.

”What do you remember?” Dr. Horse asked.

Anon fell silent for a moment, gathering her thoughts.

It all came back to her at once. Encountering Spoiled Rich on her way to school with Lyra. The trouble with Scootaloo during recess. She and her… allies? Associates? Friends? The three of them ending up as a team in a game of dodgeball with the cards stacked against them. She remembered Diamond coming up with a strategy and them winning together. She recalled the joy of playing and just… being.

And she remembered seeing Dinky lose control of her magic, creating the Dodgeball of Doom™, followed by the short but intense battle to restrain it and save the foals of Ponyville Elementary.

And then…

Memories of Fire and Rage and Hate, all poured into a single spell. It burned and scorched her insides and sizzled on her horn as she cast the magic outward. Following it was the sensation of a blowtorch against her guts and heart. The silver chain of her amulet prickled and stung the skin around her neck like nettle leaves. The Sun Orb contained in that silver trinket hummed and bristled with power-

”Oh…” Anon finally said. ”I think I overdid a spell and passed out.”

”You think?” Bon Bon almost growled.

Anon winced, her ears drooping as she withdrew. Bon Bon, for her part, immediately grimaced seeing Anon’s fearful expression.

”Spring,” Lyra said gently, placing a reassuring hoof on her fiance's shoulder as she spoke. ”You've been unconscious for four hours.”

Anon blinked, staring at the mare.

”Huh,” Anon said, in a spectacular display of both understatement and brevity. ”Hey, you think we'll still be late for tea with Spoiled Rich?”

”Spring!” Lyra exclaimed.

”What?” Anon asked innocently. ”It's a genuine question. We promised to be there.”

Bon Bon sighed, one hoof massaging her temple.

”You were caught in a surge and passed out,” Bon Bon said slowly. ”I'm sure your friend will understand.”

Anon shook her head. Staying here was out of the question.

Would Diamond understand? Probably yes. Her mother? Not so much.

”But I feel fine,” she argued. ”And I want to go.”

She didn't really feel fine. Her head felt like it was filled with cotton. The pain in her horn reminded her of the dull, aching pain she sometimes got from the worst of her scars.

And her flanks kept stinging - the sensation was similar to when she would sit on her leg too long and it would ‘fall asleep’. Just more pronounced and a lot more irritating.

Did it just change color? I swear it's a different shade of green than the rest of me…

Bon Bon sighed again, turning to Dr. Horse - who was busying himself with staring at a few charts and pretending he wasn't there.

”Doc, a little help?”

The doctor startled, nearly dropping his clipboard.

”Oh! Well, this is awkward,” the doctor said, rubbing the back of his neck while stepping away from the now agitated parents. ”You see, we kind of haven't actually found anything wrong with her?” The doctor grimaced at the deadpan glare Bon Bon was giving him. ”I would recommend caution, but as long as she gets some sugar into her to replenish her magic and avoids straining herself, she should be fine.”

”I'm right here, you know,” Anon quipped while hopping down from the bed. She turned towards the doctor. ”So? Can I go?”

Dr. Horse shrugged and motioned towards the doors.

”If your guardians allow it. Just let me get a nurse to give you your release papers.”

Lyra stopped, regarding the doctor with a strange look.

”Is everything alright, doctor?”

”Yes, yes,” the doctor waved her off absentmindedly. ”I’m just skimming through Spring's MRI results.”

”MRI?” Anon asked. She was pretty sure those were giant electromagnets and, considering she had yet to see electricity used en masse in Equestria, advanced technology like that didn't sound like something they would have access to.

”Magical Resonance Imaging,” the doctor explained. ”It’s the machine we use to scan pony's ley lines by sending waves of harmless, foreign magic at them. The pony's own natural magic resists the foreign magic, letting us detect the relative strength and position of your core and ley…lines…” Dr. Horse trailed off, noticing the blank look everypony else in the room was giving him. The doctor coughed. ”But that's neither here nor there.”

I thought it malfunctioned,” Bon Bon said.

”No, it didn't malfunction,” Dr Horse corrected. ”It exploded, violently, the second we pushed the ‘on’ button.” Dr. Horse waved the clipboard with the sheet of scan results. ”Luckily, Nurse Red Heart was able to retrieve some of the scan results from the wreckage. And by that I mean that the film reel hit her in the head after the blast.”

”What does it show?” Anon asked. ”Is something wrong with me?”

”Not to worry,” Dr. Horse said brightly. ”As far as I can tell you're a healthy unicorn filly, sans some remaining effects of malnutrition. It's the scan that is patently wrong. It's interesting from a purely academic point of view, but otherwise absolutely worthless.”

He gave her a smile.

”I mean, it's missing a large chunk of your soul.” The doctor laughed. Anon stared at him, beads of sweat building on her brow. ”Isn't that silly?” the doctor chuckled again.

Anon gave him a tight smile.

”Yeah. Silly.”

Lyra gulped, fear and worry (and was that guilt?) playing tug of war on her face.

”A large chunk?” the minty unicorn said slowly, worry creeping its way into her voice.

”Well, yes!” Dr. Horse said excitedly. ”But that's not the interesting part.”

The doctor flipped the scans and showed them to Lyra, pointing at them with his hoof.

”See these gray and white parts around the edges?” the doctor asked and Lyra nodded. ”It has been long theorized that damaged souls can regenerate, though nopony has ever captured the process. But theoretically, we suspect it would look exactly like this.”

The doctor scratched his head.

”But for the life of me, I can't figure out why it looks like there is an external force pushing the soul back together.” the doctor shrugged. ”It's probably just backlash from the explosion. Like I said - academically interesting, but of no medical value.”

Anon stood, frozen in place while the world around her continued to move. Healing? She was… healing?

That's impossible right? How or what could-

”Spring, you still have your amulet?” Bon Bon asked, to distract herself from the papers and forms brought by a very grumpy Nurse Redheart (Bon Bon made a point of ignoring the bump on her head and the fact she was glaring at Dr. Horse with murder in her eyes)

”Yup. Never took it off.” Anon affirmed, tapping a hoof on the warm, crystalline surface of the Sun Orb hanging around her neck. The enchanted necklace let out an almost musical ‘ting’ as she did.

”Are you sure you still want to go?” Lyra asked.

Anon nodded.

”Positive.”

Let's get this over with.

The Rich manor was exactly as its name suggested.

Big, opulent, and immaculate. It didn't exactly impress Anon, who had both visited and broken into bigger, more opulent, and more immaculate buildings in her time. (Though they tended not to stay that way after she was done with them.)

But while it failed to impressher, it did succeed in making her nervous as she stood by the almost glittering gate, overlooking the perfectly cut lawns and hedge mazes and the manor house itself.

”Miss Heartstrings and Miss Bon Bon, and of course Lady Spring, welcome the Rich manor. You’re expected,” said a stallion in what had to be the pony equivalent of a suit, opening the gate for them. Both of Spring's guardians grimaced at the butler's words.

Anon tilted her head.

Lady Spring? Why call me a lady and not Lyra or Bon Bon? They are the adults here.

There was something. A bit of trivia from before that was crawling its way into remembrance. Was it because she was still technically an orphan and thus a ward of the crown? That had to be it.

She shook her head. The customs of high society and their power plays were something so outside both her expertise and experience that they weren't even in the same orbit as her, admittedly, very limited interests. (She had two: explosives and food. Her bomb interest did sometimes intersect with the rich and powerful, if only for an instant.)

The butler - or was it a valet? - led them through the gardens and into the entrance of the manor.

”Spring!”

Out of the doors ran Diamond Tiara.

”You absolute idiot!”

Anon smiled.

”Hello to you too, Diamond.”

Diamond Tiara skidded to a halt in front of Anon. She had a dress - a frilly thing that made Anon’s eyes hurt. It glistened with gemstones like glitter.

And she looked very displeased.

”Don’t ‘hello’ me!” Diamond Tiara exclaimed. ”Do you have any idea how scared we were? You wouldn't wake up!”

”I’m fine,” Anon said, shrugging and wincing slightly - the pain in her horn was really starting to get grating. ”Being hard to kill is kinda my whole schtick.”

Diamond stared at her for a moment before facehoofing.

”That's not the point at all, you doofus.”

”Ahem.”

From the entrance of the manor came a strutting Spoiled Rich, her muzzle contorted into a sickeningly sweet smile that looked about as natural as the painted green lawn of her garden.

”It is so very good to see you,” the mare spoke, and the effect of her presence on Diamond became apparent immediately. The filly shrunk, slowly walking back until she was by her mother's side, her eyes quite obviously avoiding contact. ”You gave us all quite the scare.”

Anon nodded, more than a little shell-shocked by the ongoing developments around her.

This wasn't what she expected at all.

Ponies were nice. Mostly. That had been the truth in this world so far, though she couldn't really understand it. But a pony like Spoiled Rich pretending to be nice to her - while obviously struggling to keep a polite tone?

There was something at play. There had to be. A motive she wasn't seeing.

”But where are my manners? Please do come inside,” Spoiled Rich gestured towards the foyer of the manor. As her false smile turned towards Lyra and Bon Bon, the two mares quietly seethed where they stood.

Spoiled Rich’s eyes remained cold.

Anon took a deep breath and entered the manor.

”Mother, I thought I could show Spring my room,” Diamond said evenly, her posture firm, inflexible, a far cry from her usual energy. Spoiled Rich regarded her daughter with a scowl.

”Maybe later, dear.”

”But moth-”

”Later.”

Despite it only being less than thirty seconds, they finally arrived at the lounge - more of an alcove from the main hall than a room on its own. It only had a few chairs and one small coffee table where tea service and an elaborate platter with scones was already waiting for them, together with the butler (who somehow prepared it all in under a minute, or, more worryingly, had this all prepared in advance of their arrival.)

” Please take a seat. You simply must try this blend. It's imported all the way from Zebrica, you know.” (It wasn't, it was mostly discarded, terrible tea leaves sold by a pair of scammers, but the only one who knew how Zebrican tea should look was Bon Bon, and she very politely asked for coffee)

Four cups of tea were poured by the butler. Sugar was offered and accepted by Anon, who did not normally put sugar in her tea, but after one look at this particular leaf juice, decided to make an exception.

”Now that we’re here, I can give you this.” Spoiled Rich presented Anon with a piece of paper, engraved with more of the unreadable marks that made up the equestrian writing system.

”Thanks?” Anon said, shooting a desperate look at Lyra.

”It’s an invitation for Diamond’s and Silver Spoon’s cutie ceañera,” the minty mare answered her silent plea. More desperate looks from Anon.

”I... don't know what that is,” she finally admitted..

Sounds Spanish for some reason.

”It's a celebration for getting your cutie mark,” Diamond explained. “We - Silver and I - got ours today.”

Anon furrowed her brow. Diamond was right of course, there was now a mark on her flank.

Tiara? Kinda fitting. Probably for leadership, when thinking about it.

”I'm sorry you didn't get yours,” Diamond said. ”It would be cool if all three of us got it at the same time.”

Anon scoffed. She wouldn't get sad over something as small as not getting a mark. There was no reason to get upset over things she couldn't have. It didn't help. It just hurt. That was a lesson Anon learned long ago. Even if Diamond so clearly wanted to share this with all her friends, which, bizarrely, included her. It couldn't be helped.

So no, it didn't make Anon sad.

Not at all.

”Eh, I get it when I get it,” she said with a sudden tightness in her chest. ”But congrats,” Anon added sincerely.

Diamond grinned.

”Thanks,” Diamond answered, earning a nasty look from her mother.

”How dreadful that even after all this time, you still have to catch up on your pony heritage,” Spoiled Rich said, her lips curling up into a mockery of a smile. Far too sharp and not at all happy. ”But don't worry. I'm sure after the adoption is completed, and done properly, we will fix that.”

Anon paused, brows raising as she turned to Bon Bon, sitting at her side.

”...Adoption?”

No. Please be wrong. Please be wrong.

”Of course!” Spoiled Rich exclaimed. ”After learning of your… situation, and hearing how you helped my precious Diamond, I couldn't help but try and give you a real home.”

Anon's brain stalled.

Her throat went dry, eyes started stinging.

”You two are almost like sisters already,” she’d said.

She was blind. The truth had been staring her right in the face, but she’d chosen to ignore it, because she didn't want to think about it.

Celestia had even explained it to her. Not everyone could adopt. Equestria was both prosperous and peaceful, and orphans most commonly a product of accidents like housefires. And even so, most orphans were taken in by extended family or friends of the deceased. Foal abuse was even rarer, to the extent of being almost unheard of.

Anon hadn't made the connection at first. But it was obvious, want it? There were few foals eligible for adoption, but many ponies who wanted to adopt. And the rule of supply and demand being what it was, inevitably, adopting became a thing of prestige. Orphans: A scarce, valuable resource.

Spoiled Rich wanted to adopt her. Not because of some goodness in her heart, or a desire to give back some of the fortune she was granted. She wanted her as a trophy. Something to parade around, to show she could.

What was Anon supposed to do? This was… evil. Simple as that. She knew evil well enough to recognize it, she bore enough scars - both hidden deep and plain for everyone to see - to prove it many times over. But this wasn't anything like the giant, despicable acts of monsters who lovedseeing others hurt that she was used to. This wasn't something she could run from or punch or blow up.

In reality, Anon wasn't in any danger anyway. One call to Celestia and Spoiled’s chances of ever adopting her would be dashed, diced, and tossed in a fire, and the resulting ash summarily atomized, too.

So why did it make her feel so sick?

”Will Filthy Rich join us today?” Bon Bon asked tiredly. The mare apparently sensed Anon’s discomfort and pushed her chair slightly closer, just enough that her presence helped the filly calm down.

”I'm afraid my husband has an important business meeting today,” Spoiled said with a haughty smirk—and Anon then realized that her husband probably had no idea about her true motivation. She gave Bon Bon and Lyra another venomous look. ”Money doesn’t grow on trees, and he would never settle for less than the bestfor our daughter.”

Bon Bon continued quietly seething in her seat, staring daggers at the mare. Anon found that more than a little strange - between her and Lyra, she always seemed like the more composed of the pair.

Speaking of Lyra, the minty unicorn either didn't notice the jab at her, or she let it slide. Her demeanor was still outwardly pleasant, despite the slight edge in her movement as she levitated her tea and scones.

Anon also noted, in the back of her perpetually alert mind, that she seemed to keep the butter knife close at hoof.

”Money isn't exactly everything,” Lyra said easily, her tone unaffected even by the alleged tea she was sipping.

I had to put ten sugar cubes in to make it drinkable. Does she just not taste it?

”Of course you would believe that,” Spoiled Rich shot back. She turned her attention to Bon Bon. ”Sometimes, I wonder. How hard it must be for you. To be in a relationship so… unstable. With one partner bringing so much more money than the other,” she trailed off.

Bon Bon paused, confusion clear in her eyes. Lyra shrugged.

”Oh. Well, it isn't particularly unstable. Bon Bon always supported me,” she gave a small pause and smile at her partner, mischief sparking in her eyes. ”If it ever bothered Bonnie that I make slightly more money than her, I'm sure we would talk about it.”

Bon Bon eyes went wide, realization hitting her.

Anon raised a brow. She knew Bon Bon owned her own business, but thinking about it, she didn't really know what Lyra's job was. Anon knew she was a musician of some description. She saw her play at home often enough.

From an outside perspective, it probably looked like Lyra was a freeloader. And with her back problems, well, she sometimes couldn't even climb a flight of stairs. Anon couldn't imagine Lyra doing anything physically demanding.

What Lyra did most days was stay at home.

Stay at home and write music, that is.

”You make slightly more money than me?” Bon Bon said. ”Lyly, just the royalties from Songbird Serenade were more than what the candy shop makes in a year.”

Lyra blushed at this, while Spoiled Rich almost frothed with impotent rage - she was gritting her teeth so much, Anon was half expecting them to pop like popcorn.

”You really think they will let you adopt?” Spoiled Rich snarled, the thin veneer of civility gone. ”How long has it been, a month? And has little Spring here called either of you ‘mom’ even once?”

Lyra looked away while Bon Bon started shaking in her chair, emotions bubbling close to the surface.

”It's not like Diamond Tiara calls you ‘mum’ either,” Anon mumbled, a half-eaten scone crumbling in her hoof.

Silence.

”What?” she asked, feeling the weight of the everypony in the room staring at her with a mixture of surprise, bewilderment and, in the case of Spoiled Rich, barely contained contempt.

”I said that out loud, didn't I?” Anon asked innocently.

Lyra laughed. Bon Bon stifled a snort.

Spoiled Rich, on the other hoof...

She was a fairly simple mare who often overestimated her own intelligence and importance. She had been born into a ‘good family’. Old nobility, who fell on hard times. So she seduced a young, up-and-coming business stallion to preserve some of her family relevance, and enjoyed an easy life where she didn't really have to work very hard.

She was a mare who was used to getting what she wanted. She was used to getting it fast. And she was used to getting it without much resistance or argument.

In short, Spoiled Rich was a mare with a short temper, a nasty personality, and absolutely no idea how to deal with ponies making fun of her.

So she did the only thing that ever worked for her in these situations.

She threw a tantrum.

“Is that how it is?” she turned to Bon Bon, snarling. “You really want to care for some gutter filth?”

Bon Bon stood up, hackles raised, one hoof going on for a hidden weapon, more from instinct and training than any real intent to hurt. Lyra’s horn began to glow.

Spoiled Rich spun around to face the unicorn, ignoring the threat. Her eyes were as cold as the grave.

”You’re nothing. A burden,” she hissed at the minty mare. Lyra shook, her eyes misty. She tried to blink away the tears without success.

Anon noticed. In that split second. The look on Lyra’s face. Sad, not in the moment. Memory flashing behind the eyes, so close she could almost see it herself.

In a sudden moment of clarity, Anon recognized that look. She knew it well.

It was the look of someone who got a loved one killed.

”Songs or not. You will never be anything but a failure.. Nothing but a cripple-”

KRACKOWWW!

Bon Bon blinked.

All eyes turned to the smashed coffee table, its glass shattered to a hundred pieces, showering the conference room.

The green filly slowly lifted her hoof off the wreckage, staring at the offending appendage like she was just seeing it for the first time.

There was blood on it.

”I’m sorry,” Anon said in a weak voice. ”There was a mosquito.”

She turned to Lyra. The mare was so stunned by the display she had stopped crying.

”Mom, I want to go home,” Anon more whispered than said.

Another silence followed.

Bon Bon was the first to recover. Getting up on shaking legs, she scooped up the unprotesting filly - away from the danger of shattered glass, and away from the unhinged mad-mare sitting shocked in her chair.

”Yes, Spring.” Bon Bon said. ”Let's go home.”

”This is not over,” Spoiled Rich managed to utter after a few more moments of bewildered, but blessed, quiet.

”You’re right.” Bon Bon affirmed, her voice low, steely, and dangerous. She paid no attention to the snob of a mare behind her, only to Lyra and the green filly on her back - as well to the pink filly cowering in a corner as they made their way out. She only stopped at the door for a brief moment. ”This is not over, Spoiled.”

I have a call to make.

Author's Note

Welp, there it goes.

Thanks again to PseudoBob Delightus and Discombobulated Soul for all their help forging something readable from my inane scribbles.

I always sympathize with the changelings in the canon. Though Chrysalis' original plan never made a lick of sense to me.

So I decided to do things a little differently.

Anon acting a little weird. She has a lot on her plate. Lots of (re)growing to do. And poor Bon Bon needs a break.

And Lyra.

Well-

Also, to the poor guy in the comments who was afraid for buggos…

I'm sorry.