A weightlessness overtakes Tarsus. He closes his eyes, knowing full well that time has stopped for him and him alone. He’s practiced this dozens of times, and there isn’t an ounce of fear in his body. He’s got this. He knows he does.

He keeps his wings tucked closed to his back. His body spins in midair, deftly avoiding the cylindrical walls surrounding him. Through the darkness of his closed eyelids, he knows he was successful. He’s emerged from the final obstacle, and now all he has to do is–

Pomf.

A perfect landing, soft as a feather.

He opens his eyes, a smirk on his face as he looks back at the obstacle course behind him. A number of students standing off to the side applaud him, with all eyes trained on the fancy new electronic scoreboard placed over the School of Friendship’s sporting arena. “2:13” it says in big, yellow numbers. A single chuckle escapes him.

That’s not just a new personal best. That’s a new school record.

“Nice one, dude!” Rainbow Dash looks ecstatic as she descends from a cloud placed conveniently above the course. “Just goes to show that size isn’t everything! Let Tarsus be an example to you all!” She motions to the rest of the class, some of whom are clearly more enthused than others. “Even when you’re large and in charge, you can still move with the nimbleness of a breezie!” She gives him an enthused pat on the back. “Seriously, great job.”

“Thanks, Dash. Learned a few tricks from my mom,” he adds with a confident click of his tongue.

“Looks like she taught you well. Anyway, who’s up next? Elitra?”

“Right here!” Another changeling almost the exact same size as Tarsus steps forward. She’s got a deep, purple-black hue to her with piercing yellow eyes. Between her coloration and strong presence, one might be forgiven for believing that she’s a dark changeling. However, this is simply not the case. Her father, Pharynx, has much the same problem. “Ready to go whenever you are.”

“I like that attitude! Let’s get the timer reset and you up to the starting line!”

Dash nonchalantly tosses Tarsus a bottle of water before beginning the preparations for Elitra’s run through the obstacle course. Feeling quite proud of himself, Tarsus finds a seat amongst good company.

“Nice run, dude.” A purple dragon, easily twice Tarsus’s height, sits on the bench next to him. “You weren’t kidding about breaking that record.”

“What? Did the mighty Obsidian think I couldn’t do it?”

“Nope!”

Obsidian elbows Tarsus in the shoulder, prompting a brotherly laugh out of both of them. The two have been inseparable since Tarsus was able to walk on his own. Everyone at the School of Friendship knows that where Tarsus and Obsidian go, trouble is sure to follow. No one in school has more detentions than Obsidian, though Tarsus seems keen on breaking that school record, too. The result is a long, desolate path of broken rules and slipping grades being left in their wake.

“I thought you could.” Next to the two boys, Gena appears downright tiny. She looks up from the book her nose had been buried in, a gentle smile on her face. “Just don’t expect Terga to take it lying down.”

“Eh, she’s more concerned about the mid-air version of the course. Guess she thinks she’s gonna have flying mastered by the end of the semester or something.” Tarsus shrugs before letting out a hearty laugh. “She’s just scared of competing against the best. Can’t say I blame her,” he adds with a flex.

“Woah! That’s incredible, Elitra!”

Tarsus, Obsidian, and Gena all turn back towards the obstacle course, their eyes immediately going wide. Where they expected to see the confident form of Elitra, they instead see a literal cheetah making its way through the course. It leaps through a hoop before turning a corner with extreme precision and dexterity. It reaches a group of hurdles, but before it can jump, it’s enveloped in a yellow flame. In a blink-and-you-miss-it moment, the cheetah is replaced by… Obsidian?

The faux dragon uses its height to its advantage, forgoing the standard jumps over the hurdles in favor of simply stepping over them with little issue. The result is an unexpectedly fast time, and almost certainly less strain on the competitor. However, the show isn’t over quite yet, as the final hurdle, the hanging tube, still looms before her. Elitra is once again enveloped in a yellow flame, and a moment later, Gena is being thrown through the tube. Next to Tarsus, the original Gena gasps, a mixture of shock and discomfort spreading across her face.

And then, the buzzer goes off.

“That… was… AWESOME!”

Rainbow Dash celebrates in the sky as, now standing on the finish line, Elitra returns to her original form. On the scoreboard above them, big yellow numbers reveal her time. “2:09.”

Tarsus’s record barely stood for five minutes.

“Phew,” the now-sweaty changeling exclaims as Dash tosses her some water. “Been practicing that little show for a while.”

“That was GENIUS! I mean, I figured a changeling could probably turn into something to their advantage, but I never would have thought to change to something different for each obstacle!”

“Eh, that’s just a little something I picked up back at the hive. Nothing too special.” With a cocky smirk on her face, she brushes her unkempt, yellow mane out of her face. “Still, good to see it paid off.”

“I’ll say. That’s another school record! Hahah, you kids never stop impressing me! Miles, you’re up!”

Dash flies towards the group of students yet to start, leaving the competitors that have already finished to their own devices. Tarsus opens his mouth to speak, but Elitra interrupts him before he can say anything.

“Good job today, Tarsie. For a second, I almost thought I wouldn’t be able to beat ya.”

“That’s–”

“But then common sense kicked in. HAH!”

She throws her head back, prompting Tarsus to roll his eyes.

“Yeah, well, I’m sure winning comes easy to you when you’re willing to cheat.”

“Oh, my silly little Tarsie.” She saunters up to him, closing the gap more than he’s comfortable with. “Just because someone can do something you can’t doesn’t make it cheating. It’s not my fault you can’t transform yet.”

“Yeah, because unlike someone, I–”

“Have the most hated changeling alive for a mother, yes, I know. It must really suck not having someone to teach you skills that those of us at the hive learned when we were half your age.”

“She’s doing her best,” he growls, his voice low and quiet.

“Really? Wow, that’s embarrassing.”

Tarsus grabs the bench beneath him. He can feel his face growing red. The taste of metal fills his mouth as he bites down on his tongue hard enough to draw blood. He hates talking to Elitra. She’s always been the number one source of frustration in his life, but she’s so good at putting on that dumb little goody-two-shoes act that he always ends up in detention after she instigates. It’s not fair.

“Get off his ass, Elitra.” Obsidian stands from his seat, glaring down at the changeling girl with a subdued fire in his faded-orange eyes. “You know he can’t do anything about that. Don’t hate him for the shit his mom did.”

Tarsus says nothing.

“Oh, Obsidian, you seem to be confused. I don’t hold any contempt for poor Tarsus, here.” She runs a hoof along the back of Tarsus’s neck as he stares at the ground, sending a shiver down his spine. “No, I pity this sad child.”

“Stop it.” Gena speaks up for the first time. She does her best to sound serious and intimidating like the company around her, but only succeeds in forcing her voice to crack. “We don’t talk smack about your family.”

“My family was a victim of yours, Gena.” She finally turns from Tarsus and towards his smaller sister. “But please don’t think I’m taking this out on you. Unlike your brother, you have the common sense to not idolize a monster.”

“...”

“Sounds like the peanut gallery is finally out of things to say.” With another flick of her mane, Elitra turns from the group. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna go make sure Professor Dash puts my name on the record board.”

“It won’t be there long,” Taurus finally growls. He picks his head up just enough to lock eyes with Elitra, but seeing the unshakeable smirk on her face, the dim expression on his own couldn’t be more obvious. “I’ll… I’ll…”

“Face it, Tarsie. You act big, but you’re just chasing a shadow that nobody even wants around anymore. Let it go.”

“I’m not my mom.”

“No, Tarsie. You’re not.”

Without another word, Elitra walks away.

“Ugh, that girl makes me so mad.” Obsidian shakes his head, trace amounts of smoke escaping the corners of his mouth in the process. “I was two words away from getting suspended.”

“...” Gena remains silent, her gaze fixed on the grass below her. However, after a few moments of silence, she looks up at her older brother. “Tarsus?”

“Shut up, Gena.” She opens her mouth to speak, but can’t quite find the words. Meanwhile, Tarsus lifts himself from the bench, turns around, and walks away from class. “I’m going home.”

“T-Tarsus, the school day isn’t over yet!”

“I don’t care.”

Obsidian raises a hand in protest, but a glance towards Gena prevents him from saying anything. Not another word is spoken as the class continues, now with one less student.

“Tarsus, where the hell are you?!” Chrysalis’s furious voice booms throughout the house, with Gena right behind her. “I swear, when I find you, you are going to learn what a changeling queen can ACTUALLY do!”

Gena shrinks in on herself as she follows her mother into their home. Seta went out shopping with some of her friends, while Canthus and Terga have extracurriculars to deal with today. And, since Anon is still working, that leaves only herself and her mom to track down Tarsus.

Of course, she didn’t give her mother all of the details about him skipping class. She doesn’t like lying, but Tarsus would probably rip her head off if he knew she talked about all of that.

“Have you checked his room?” Chrysalis growls.

“Y-yes, but I didn’t see him there.”

“Is he even here?”

“I have no idea.”

“Ugh.” Chrysalis isn’t exactly slow to anger, and when she loses her temper, everyone in town knows it. Gena treads carefully, making sure to be as selective as possible with her words. There’s an aura in the air exuding from the ex-queen, and it’s enough to make her nauseous. “Do a sweep of the house. If you don’t find him, go play with your friends or something. And tell your siblings to do the same.”

“Wh-why?”

“You’re not going to want to be here when he comes home.”

“...Yes, Mom.”

Tarsus takes a deep breath. Then another. Then another. Ordinarily, he would do as his father taught him and place a hoof on his chest to better control his breathing. However, as he looks down at the long, spindly, hoof-less leg attached to him, he knows that that isn’t an option right now.

Surrounding him is his bedroom. The familiar shape of his bed is right there, mere feet away. However, as he is right now, such a distance couldn’t feel any farther. He glances down at the wood underneath him, the smooth, glossy surface barely reflecting his face back at him. Said face is not the face he wants looking back at him. Instead of his usual, cocky visage, a termite stares back at him.

He’s not used to having six legs.

Beneath him is his dresser. There’s not much to look at from his perspective, due in no small part to the lack of use his dresser sees. A half-empty can of Munster Energy sits on the far end of the surface, threatening to fall onto the floor far, far below with even a gentle shake of the dresser. Behind him is a long-forgotten necklace he bought in a misguided attempt at looking cool. Too lame to wear but too expensive to throw away, it hasn’t moved in months. He sneezes, the dust suddenly a bigger problem than when he was a normal size.

If he could get a better look at himself, he would see that he looks exactly like an everyday termite. Tiny, somewhat gross, and lacking the wings that the cool termites have, the only notable aspect of his unexpected form is his bright orange coloration, a lingering aspect of his old body.

He’s not even sure how this happened. One moment, he was storming into his room while trying to hold back tears. He wanted nothing more than to dive into bed, to bury himself underneath his covers and forget the fact that he’ll never be enough, that he’ll always be a tiny blip on the radar stuck in the shadow of his mother’s past deeds. The next moment, a flash of light was overtaking him and he was staring out at a much, much larger bedroom than before.

He’s been stuck up here all afternoon.

Suddenly, the door to his room swings open. What would ordinarily be a regular occurrence suddenly feels world-endingly intense, the sheer force of the wind from the door’s sudden opening nearly throwing him off of his balance. He hunkers down, instinctively trying to clench the teeth that he no longer has. Then, just as quickly as the moment began, it comes to an end.

There’s a moment of silence before his energy drink falls onto the floor below.

“Ew!” Gena recoils at nearly being splashed by the days-old can of liquid poison. “T-Tarsus, are you here? Please, Mom isn’t happy with you.”

He wants to reply, to yell as loud as he can. However, his words don’t reach her. At his size, he may as well be completely mute, not to mention invisible. Why would she be looking for a termite on his dresser? Even if she were searching for a single bug, he’s so small that he’d almost assuredly be overlooked anyway.

“Gena, please! I’m right here!”

Gena stands still for a moment, carefully scanning the room for any sign of movement. Despite being by far the smallest member of their family, Tarsus notes how massive she looks right now.

“...I hope you’re okay,” she mumbles to herself as she turns to head out of the room.

Tarsus braces himself as said room is disturbed yet again by the closing door. He’s not sure how termites do it, fighting for their lives every time someone does something as innocuous as entering a bedroom. When the energy dies down, he tries to focus on himself. He’s done this dozens of times in the past couple of hours, but surely he’ll succeed this time, right? Anything to avoid his mother’s wrath, right?

Trying to focus on his inner energy, he closes his eyes.

…

“Gah!” He releases the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding in. “Damn it!”

Chrysalis never taught them how to transform. She certainly tried, but nothing ever seemed to work for them. She said it was due to not understanding light changeling biology, but despite her appearance, she IS one! A part of him has wondered if being half-human might have crippled their ability to transform. Having heard the hushed whispers of his sisters, he’s sure they think the same thing, even if they won’t say it aloud.

“Good job, Tarsus. You finally did it.” He lets out a growl, though the hot breath that escapes his clenched termite mouth indicates something other than anger. “Now you get to die as you lived.”

“TARSUS!”

He feels his entire body lift into the air as he is thrown back by the incredible force of his door once again opening, but now with the untold anger of a mother scorned. He only moves a few inches, but considering his size, it’s about as dangerous of a journey as he could take.

“Argh!”

He slams his head against his old necklace. A throbbing pain spreads across his termite body as he falls back onto the wood below. Through blurry vision, he sees the unmistakable form of his mother, Chrysalis, with a fire in her eyes and a scowl on her face. She bares her fangs as she steps into the bedroom, her bright green eyes appearing massive and terrifying. Her pupils become the thin slits of a hunter searching for her prey, and for a brief instant, Tarsus wonders if he might be safer without his mother being able to see him.

Glancing down at his termite body, he quickly changes his mind.

“MOM! I’M DOWN HERE!”

Yet again, if she hears him, she shows no sign of it.

“PLEASE! PLEASE, HELP ME!”

She steps further into his room, her sneer only spreading as she checks the far side of his bed.

“Please…”

Tarsus feels his spindly legs grow weak. He doesn’t fight it, allowing them to give out underneath him. His head hits the wood. For the first time in a very, very long time, he wonders if his fears might show on his face.

But termites can’t cry.

Unable to think, Tarsus closes his eyes.

“...”

“…”

“…”

“...Tarsus?”

“H-huh?”

He recoils, the voice calling out his name loud and all-encompassing. He glances towards his bed, expecting to see his mother searching every nook and cranny for a changeling that doesn’t exist anymore. Instead, he sees two massive, bright-green eyes staring down at him, the anger within subdued in favor of confusion.

“Mom!”

He tries to wave his arms around, but only succeeds in flailing about like a newborn babe. Still, the unnatural movement combined with his coloration seems to further attract Chrysalis’s attention. She stares down at him for a moment as her jaw slowly drops.

Then, without another word, she’s enveloped in green flames. Less than a second later, Tarsus is staring at another termite directly in front of him.

“Tarsus?”

“Mom, please! You’ve gotta help me!”

“How did you do this?”

“I-I don’t know! I just came home and I wanted to take a nap and I ended up like this.”

“...Okay. First of all, take a deep breath.”

“What do you think I’ve BEEN doing?!”

“Do NOT snap at me, young man!”

Although her terminology makes no sense, the phrase is a bad habit she picked up from her husband.

“W-well, what am I supposed to do?! I can’t turn back!”

“You can. Just focus.”

“I’ve been doing that, too! I am focusing, and it’s not helping me!”

“Are you really?”

“Duh!”

Chrysalis closes what little space there already was between them, placing her own termite form as close as she can get to his own without touching him.

“Are you positive that there’s nothing else clouding your mind? Some reason you might subconsciously be seeing yourself as a termite?”

“I… I…”

“That sounds like a yes to me.”

“What do you know?!”

“Tarsus.” Even though she’s a termite, he can feel the serious, resolute stare she’s giving him. “Now isn’t the time to be arguing about this. We can talk further after we’ve gotten you back into your own body, alright?”

“You…”

Her voice, while stern, has a subdued warmth to it. It’s not often that her motherly nature shines through, especially around her eldest son, but it fills him with a sensation he hasn’t felt in a long, long time.

“How are you feeling, Tarsus? You don’t have to give me the details, just be honest.”

“I…” He closes his eyes again. The lump in his throat slowly begins to descend. He breathes in, the air around him feeling cold and alien. A shiver spreads from the tips of his insectoid legs to the very top of his back. Finally, he speaks. “I’m scared, Mom.”

A flash of light. A burst of magic. The rushing of warm, stagnant air on his skin. Tarsus opens his eyes, a familiar, comfortable feeling washing over him. He takes a breath, filling his lungs with a greater volume of air than before. He glances down, seeing the hooves he learned to walk on.

He’s back.

Another flash of light follows, and before long his mother stands before him. Her expression is practically unreadable, a mixture of anger, fear, joy, and everything in-between shining through her eyes all at once. She looks hesitant, as though she’s unsure of exactly what to say. When she does speak, it’s in a cold, flat tone.

“Don’t do that again.”

She turns to leave the room. In an instant, a thousand feelings course through Tarsus’s veins. Relief that he’s himself again, and that Chrysalis isn’t killing him for skipping school. Fear at the uncertainty of what just happened, and the possibility that it might happen again. But, more than anything, he feels heat rising to his face. Unresolved feelings begin to bubble up, and while he tries at first to, as always, bite his tongue before he can make the situation worse, the sight of ex-queen Chrysalis walking away like nothing happened finally pushes him over the edge.

“I… I hate you.” She freezes. He can practically hear the joints in her body snapping as she prepares to turn back, but he doesn’t stop. “Everything that’s wrong with me, everything I’ve ever had to deal with is YOUR fault!”

“Tarsus.” Her head turns, her furrowed brow and glowing, slitted eyes piercing his own. To her surprise, he doesn’t back down. “Who do you think you’re speaking to?”

“A changeling. A changeling just like any other.” He steps forward, the heat within him spreading from his face to his chest and all the way down to his hooves. “A changeling that fucked everything up. A changeling that failed to be the queen she was supposed to be!”

Chrysalis turns around fully. Facing the brunt of Tarsus’s fury, she makes no effort to back down. Instead, she sits herself down on the floor between him and the door, prepared to have a conversation about feelings he’s clearly been holding in for a long, long time.

“You failed everyone. You hurt a bunch of ponies, and then you hurt a bunch of changelings! You failed the hive in every conceivable way! Even now, everyone HATES you!”

She stares back at him, her expression softening. Still, she says nothing.

“And then you tried to hide behind dad! ‘Oh, look at me, I’m all better now! Princess Twilight forgave me, and I’m gonna have a bunch of kids and live a normal life like everyone else!’ It’s a little late for that, don’t you think?!”

She remains silent.

“And now… now I have to pay for it! Because YOU couldn’t just choose one! You couldn’t commit to being a queen, so I have to toughen myself up while dealing with whatever fucked up genes you and dad gave me! And you can’t just pretend you weren’t a queen, because everyone thinks I’m gonna turn out like you anyway! I’m too strong to be a normal changeling, but I’m too weak to be the soldier you could have made me into! You’ve given me the worst of both worlds!”

He slams his hoof on the ground, the echo of which spreads throughout the house.

“I’m tired of not living up to your legacy, and I’m tired of people telling me whether or not that’s a good thing! I’m tired of being your son! I’m tired of… of being WEAK!”

He stomps again. For a brief moment, he swears that his hoof resembles the leg of a termite. Before he can linger on it, he feels an arm wrap around his neck.

“Wh-what?!”

“Tarsus. You’re crying.”

He tries to reply, but ends up choking on the lump in his throat. Chrysalis rests her head on top of his own, pulling him in close. She hasn’t hugged him since he was a grub; he was always too proud for that. The strange feeling of warmth and closeness is simultaneously comforting and extremely jarring.

“Mom…”

“You’re right.”

“What?”

“You’d be better off with someone else as your mother. I’ve known that since the day you kids were born.” She takes a deep breath, carefully stroking the back of his neck before continuing. “I had a feeling something like this would happen. Your father insisted I’d be better at parenting than I thought, but… I can’t undo the past, Tarsus. I’m sorry.”

“...”

“I’ve done everything I can to try to give you the life you deserve. You don’t want to be like a changeling soldier of old. I need you to take my word on that.”

“At least then I wouldn’t be falling behind everyone else.”

“I don’t know why shapeshifting doesn’t come as naturally to you kids as it does other changelings. I just don’t.”

She pulls away, locking eyes with him once more. He notices that her eyes are misty, but unlike his own, her tears aren’t making their way down her cheeks.

“But today, you did exactly that.”

“Yeah, and for what?”

“Tarsus, look at me.” She grabs both of his cheeks, forcing him to gaze directly at her. “You. Just. Shapeshifted. That means it can be done. And you’ll do it again.”

“And if I get stuck?”

“I’ll be there to help you.”

“...Mom?”

“Hm?”

“I… I didn’t…”

“You don’t need to say it, Tarsus. I don’t know what’s going on at that school of yours, but I trust that you’re smart enough - strong enough - to handle it. That you’ll do the right thing.”

“...”

“And if not, you’ve got us to help you through it. Even if your problems are my fault.”

“They’re not,” he whispers. His gaze falls to the ground as he deflates in front of her. “They’re not.” He repeats himself, like a mantra he needs to convince himself of. “Just leave me alone for a while, okay?”

“...Very well. I’ll be in the living room if you need anything.”

She shuffles out of his room, glancing back only once before shutting the door. Feeling a sense of twisted humor at knowing that said door is no longer capable of killing him, Tarsus finally lies down.

For the first time in many years, his tears run freely.

Author's Note

Big thank you to Mikkybun for the incredible art, and another thank you to DarthBall for pre-reading!