Potroh was an average changeling drone. He liked things that most drones of his ilk liked, including consuming love, adoring their queen, and helping the hive in any way he could. He was a simple fellow, not unlike most drones, but that was okay. He wasn't like the caste above him, the warriors. He usually didn't fight, and didn't want to fight, but if he had to, of course he did.
Like at the fateful Battle of Canterlot, which would go down as the most glorious battle in changeling history. Sure, they were forced to fall back in the end, but that was part of the plan. It's not like their glorious Queen would ever lead the hive into a battle they couldn't win. They won, they definitely won, they just didn't capture the city, and didn't take any food. Well, prisoners. Same difference, really.
Or so Potroh was told. He didn't really know what would count as a "strategic victory", so he just went with what the warriors told him. But he was sure they told the truth. After all, their Queen was there, and fought herself. What's more, she killed a demon! An actual, living demon, the last of its kind. They say this demon was actually ruling over ponykind, and just like in old times, tried to stand up for the ponies.
But the demon couldn't do much, as their glorious Queen slew it on the spot, right after she revealed herself. Of course, that was also part of the plan, the Queen would only use her disguise as long as it was truly necessary.
Some warriors said that was a bold move. These demons once were many, and they were extremely dangerous, and even a single one could decimate entire battalions of changelings. But that was a long-long time ago. The "heavenly demons", as changelings of old called them, mysteriously disappeared from the world, and only one (Or two? Reports were sometimes contradictory.) remained. But with that one gone, truly nothing would stand between Equestria, and total changeling domination.
To this effect, a new hive had to be constructed, right on the doorstep of Equestria, to serve as a "forward operating base". Potroh didn't know what that meant, but hives were good, and if his Queen said it was necessary, then he would help build it, and he would be happy about it.
The work was almost finished, and many changelings had already moved in. An already existing cave system was used as a base, so only the inner structure of the hive had to be built. That made things easier, and the truly important part of the plan could move forward.
There was only one problem: food was scarce. Of course, "normal" food was available, as the cave was located at the edge of a forest, but that wasn't too important. Love wasn't plentiful around these parts, as ponies or other sentient creatures didn't inhabit the forest. Sure, some meager amount of love could be siphoned from forest critters, but that was just barely enough to not go feral.
Going feral. Potroh shivered at the thought. Luckily, he never saw a feral changeling during his lifetime, but he was told if they couldn't consume love for extended periods of time, they would go crazy, and their magical capabilities would diminish, including their shapeshifting powers. But he was sure that wouldn't happen to their hive. Their Queen would care about them, and provide fresh food aplenty.
Like the entirety of Equestria and its ponies. He imagined consuming fresh pony love, and his mouth was watering.
Soon, as the Queen said. Soon.
***
Potroh opened his eyes. He got out of his sleeping pod, buzzed his wings, and stretched his limbs. It was another uneventful morning, just as he liked them. Although there was ruckus about some ponies being captured. But only some. A few. Potroh knew then he would never even get a taste of their love. He looked around in his section of the hive, but he pretty quickly got his orders telepathically from the section matron: to feed the changeling grubs that just recently hatched.
He was happy about that task. He loved feeding those cute little changeling grubs! They would inevitably grow up to be drones like him, or warriors, if they would be fed enough love.
But this time, there wasn't enough love around, so they would only be fed normal food, which they still needed.
Potroh went to the nursery chamber. There were hundreds of little grubs sleeping there, curled up, their abdomens moving to the rhythm of their breathing.
"Wakey-wakey! It's time to eat some! You want to become big and strong changelings growing up, don't you?" Potroh said, almost whispering.
The grubs stirred, and made cute changeling grub noises. It was actually some otherworldly chirping and clicking that would only be pleasant to a changeling's ears. Potroh was going to feed them some changeling slop that could be easily digested by them and would accelerate their growth.
The pots containing it were in an adjacent chamber. Potroh had to realize they were running low on slop too, as all the pots were empty, except for a really big one.
He grabbed that one and flew back with it to the nursery chamber. But his hooves slipped on the pot at the last moment, and it broke on the ground, spilling its contents.
It wasn't too loud, but Potroh knew how delicate the grubs' hearing was. The disturbance made them stir and flip around, then they sounded their disappointment with screeching.
At first, only one began to screech, then five, then the whole chamber. And it was ear-piercing enough that Potroh folded his ears, then pressed them to his head with his hooves.
***
When the cacophony subsided, Potroh could hear heavy steps closing in. The chamber membrane opened, and the section matron entered.
"Potroh!" she roared. "What have you done?! Why are you wasting our resources when they are already as scarce as they are?"
Potroh shrunk back. He has done it. The section matron was usually pretty nice to him, but now her anger was fully justified.
"I'm so sorry, Matron Siphon! It was merely an accident! I swear, I will make...
"Incompetent fool!" the matron interrupted. "Never again I will let you work in the nursery chambers! Now get out of here. Go!"
With his head hung, Potroh slithered past the matron, all the while he felt a pair of judging eyes following him. And rightfully so, he thought. He made a big mistake, and compared to that, he got away with minimal punishment. He could have been made into changeling slop right there on the spot! But that didn't happen, and for that, he was thankful, even if silently so.
When he left the chamber though, the matron called after him.
"You will go, and reinforce the inner perimeter in the forest. We've lost contact with many of our forward patrols, and no one knows why. We have to stay vigilant."
"Understood, Matron Siphon," Potroh answered, and hurried away.
***
Potroh left the hive, and made his way to the south. He knew a camp was set up there, near the perimeter. He would go there, and ask the warriors where to patrol exactly, because he didn't get detailed instructions from his Glorious Queen.
He reached the camp and, at the time, about fifty of his hive-mates occupied it. They were all over the place, but a bigger group was clustered around discarded food.
That is, forest critters already sucked clean of love. Some of them were still tethered to the ground with tendrils of magic, waiting to be "consumed". Potroh licked his lips. Yeah, he could really go for a snack right then...
But he knew the meager feast was for everyone else. The hierarchy was strict when it came to love. Queen first, then the generals, hive matrons, lesser officers, warriors, changeling young, fixing the autonomous magical parts of the hive, then... drones like him.
It came to his mind again that some ponies were captured just recently, but of course, that must have been a private feast for the Queen. As it should be, naturally.
So instead he would just ask his question, and be on his way. He walked up to his feeding hive-mates, but before he could talk, one of them hissed at him:
"What are YOU doing here, drone?"
"I was instructed by our Queen to help you patrol the forest. Where am I needed the most?"
The warrior was hesitating with the answer. He didn't seem like he was informed of Potroh's arrival. A few seconds later, he raised a chitinous hoof, and pointed in a rather arbitrary direction, towards the treeline.
"That way. Go that way, into the forest," he said, and picked up another squirrel, after getting rid of its magical bondage.
After that, Potroh was paid no further attention. The warriors looked at the critters on the ground, trying to sense which one of them was worthy of their attention, and as such, sating their appetite.
"Understood," Potroh only said, and slowly backed off. Then he turned around, and began to trot in the indicated direction.
From the corner of his eye, as if he saw something strange. Some shimmering among the trees. He looked there properly, but it was gone by then, whatever it was.
Or maybe, nothing was there at all. Maybe it was just his imagination. Starving would do that to a 'ling.
"Maybe I'm already going feral. I hope not..." he thought.
Potroh walked on, and saw some fellow drones among the trees. Maybe they could give him some better directions where to go? Yeah, that was a good idea. Drones ought to be more friendly.
Then suddenly, he heard a sharp sound. It came from close, and it was very familiar. Then he heard screaming, and screeching, and wings buzzing. He looked around, and saw one of the warriors from the group lying on the ground. His hive-mates were checking on him, but Potroh saw the smoking hole in the head, and knew exactly what was happening. The feeling penetrated to his very core, and as dread spread throughout his body, he wanted to scream:
"Ambush!"
But another changeling yelled it, and the next moment, he was struck by a high powered, golden bolt of magic. The spell left a faint, thin trail, which Potroh traced back to a high-up tree branch, but there was nothing up there.
At that point, most of the perimeter camp was in the air, ready to fight, looking for the hostile. Potroh wanted to tell them they should look for it in that specific tree, but the wing-buzzing, and the panicked exchange of orders and warnings was so intense that no one heard him.
After another warrior was picked off, they finally nailed down the location. The one who pointed it out got killed in return, but now the hostile, who was obviously using a cloaking spell, got put under concentrated fire.
Well, the rough location was put under concentrated fire. For some moments, the cloaking spell got broken, and something got revealed, but the changelings got picked off one by one regardless. Potroh didn't know what to do. He wasn't ready for this. Many were already dead, and the formation, which wasn't very proper to begin with, got broken up. Some sought cover, some tried to defend themselves with magical shields. And despite that, Potroh just stood where he first heard the shots, as if his legs were rooted into the ground.
But the true nightmare hadn't even begun.
***
The cloaked enemy let loose another deadly spell. As if the magic bolt had a mind of its own, it traveled between its targets, scoring headshots only, killing them for sure. Only after the tenth or so changeling it dissipated.
Both shock and awe took over Potroh, who barely noticed the warrior from just a minute ago standing his ground next to him. He fired multiple salvos at the invisible enemy, but the next moment a bolt of explosive magic landed right between them, and sent both of them flying.
Potroh lost his consciousness. His last thought was that he would die, and he couldn't even fight back, protecting his Glorious Queen.
***
Potroh woke up to the ground slightly shaking. He also heard buzzing, but it wasn't the buzzing of changeling wings. It was all inside his head. How was it called...? Spellshock?
He opened his eyes, and a changeling was laying next to him on the ground with severe spellburn in place of a face. Despite the sight of spellburn not being new to him, it wasn't any less disturbing. And he definitely didn't see such an extreme version of it during the invasion of Canterlot.
But how was he? He didn't dare to look down at his own body. He must have had his insides... on the outside. When he finally dared to take a look, he was relieved that was not the case.
Okay, so he survived. But how much longer would he stay that way? That thing, whatever it was, really did a number on them.
But poor Potroh didn't have to wait very long to find out about the attacker. It walked right into his field of view with heavy steps. That's what the shaking was, then. And the creature resembled a pony. A very tall, white pony, with both wings and a horn.
It was...
It was a...
***
It looked at Potroh with its glowing eyes. The fluids within him got frozen. He just stared forward. He couldn't move even if he wanted to. Maybe he could fool it. Impatience would breed death right then.
Potroh stayed motionless. The demon was probably looking for survivors, as a few moments later, it looked away and moved on. The sound of hoofsteps became more distant. Now he dared to move his head a bit, and check if it went away.
It did. Potroh stayed alive.
"It was... It was a demon!" he thought, still in disbelief regarding the events of the last few minutes. He wished it was just a hallucination due to hunger, but he knew it all happened.
A demon attacked them. And wiped out an entire camp of changelings. Except him.
But could it be? Could that creature indeed be a demon? Everyone said The Queen herself slew the very last one of them. That couldn't be a lie. But then how could it walk among them, murdering indiscriminately, just like in ancient times?
Well, there were also legends saying that a demon couldn't be killed for good, and it would come back even from death to enact revenge upon those who slighted it, or help those it cared for.
It seemed to Potroh that legend was true as well. And if that was the case, it probably went for the hive, and their Queen.
It wanted revenge.
And it wanted to free the captured ponies too, probably.
Potroh slowly got up on shaky legs. He checked himself once again. Although his carapace was undamaged, his wings were ruined. He tried them out, but they couldn't lift his body. It went through his mind how this would set him back later, but right then he had more pressing concerns.
He looked around. Luckily, the demon was really gone. It went to the hive, and it would murder its way through it until it would find their Queen.
They needed help.
"I-I'm coming my Queen..."
But did Potroh want that? Did he want to get back there?
In that moment, a pang of guilt rose up in him. Actually, he didn't know that feeling was called that, as he never felt it before. He never willingly did or even wanted to do something that was wrong.
Yet right then, he knew what that strange feeling was because he wanted something that was wrong.
He wanted to care about himself.
And he knew if he went back to help, he would be inevitably killed. He didn't want that. He wanted to taste love once again, its amorous sweetness empowering him, and making him feel good.
Yes, he wanted that. And he knew now it was every changeling for himself. Perhaps that was true even for their Queen. And then, even if She won, the demon would just come back again, until there were no changelings left, and no Queen left.
Yes, the queen. He felt the links of telepathy being broken between them. The way the queen could give the whole hive orders no longer included him. It wasn't normal, but very intense emotions could overpower the link, or so Potroh heard. And what emotion could be more intense than the desire to live?
Oh, of course. Love.
The very thing their queen failed to provide them lately.
***
Potroh hesitated a bit, but then made up his mind. He looked towards the hive one last time, then began trotting south, the complete opposite direction. Wings or not, if he wanted to live, he had to get as far away from the hive as possible. He walked across the camp that just got turned into a battlefield, then promptly into a dug-up graveyard. The corpses of his hive-mates were littered around, often with magical burns that made them completely disfigured.
So this was a demon's power. This was the result of their wrath. At the battle of Canterlot, they didn't face it directly, and therefore, they didn't suffer serious casualties either. Now, they got a taste of its power. And the result was death.
Potroh didn't want to stall, and sped up into a gallop. He got deeper into the forest, where he could potentially hide if the demon would somehow decide to turn around, and search for him. It was unlikely, but right then, he didn't think he could have unrealistic fears.
And as he was speeding through the forest, his fear of the demon was exacerbated even more. He saw even more patrols lying dead, bigger and smaller, officers and heavy units, everything. He wanted to walk up to some of them, to those whose wounds didn't seem obviously fatal, but then his cowardice triumphed over what would be the right thing.
He couldn't lose any time though, even if the demon wasn't in pursuit. Plus seeing all the death, his priorities got quickly rearranged. Now the sweetest feeling was being alive to him. Yes, that was even better than eating love. Because eating love would only be possible to living changelings.
Such simple truths. Even just an hour ago, he would think about these things the same way any other normal changeling would. Get back to the hive, try to defend it.
But perhaps he wasn't a normal changeling. Breaking his telepathic link to the hive so easily was already a testimony to that.
But all of that didn't matter anymore. Potroh wanted to live. And he would live, no matter what.
***
Potroh made considerable progress. He wasn't out of the forest, far from it, but he was constantly heading south, which meant he's been far away from the hive at that point. He passed a strange object, a ruined golden chariot. He didn't know anything about it, but considering the many broken tree branches, it seemed as if it crashed down from the sky. Could this be related to the demon? Or the ponies? Maybe. Maybe it was downed by it for whatever reason. Or maybe, the demon used it to get here. Although it was beyond Potroh why would a demon need something like this to get around.
Ultimately, he paid it no mind. He moved on, and arrived in a less thick part of the forest. That wasn't good, as that meant more light, and less potential hiding places. With his almost black carapace, he preferred dark places, like every changeling.
Potroh was irked by the lighter surroundings, but it was actually rather peaceful all around. Birds flew above between the canopies, and chirped their elaborate songs. And with more light reaching the surface, flowers bloomed all around, giving many colors to the ground the rouge changeling walked.
For the first time since his escape, his mind was more at ease. But inevitably, his thoughts brought him back to the massacre. Why? Why did it have to happen? Just because of a few ponies? Was the answer really so simple? Or that demons were inherently evil, and killing changelings was the only thing they could do? Maybe not. But if not, then some other truths that he took for granted weren't so clear-cut either.
Changelings were good, and were meant to consume all the love in the world one day.
Ponies were food, and their love was the tastiest.
The Queen was the wisest and most powerful being in the world, and cared for every changeling.
Yet all of those truths became muddy in Potroh's mind. Where was their queen? If she cared so much, and was the most powerful, the massacre shouldn't have happened in the first place. But it did.
And were changelings indeed...good? What if they weren't? What if they were not meant to consume all the love, what if they became too greedy, and that's why the demon found them? Legend has it the demons always attacked in the past when the hives grew too big, and therefore, targeted ponykind to maintain themselves. Maybe this was a natural cycle, and was meant to happen. Or maybe it wasn't natural, and the gods decided changelings shouldn't become too powerful, and the demons were their unholy tools of maintaining equilibrium.
Or maybe it wasn't any of that, just bad luck. Potroh wouldn't know. But at any rate, he had to get out of this forest. And find some sentient life forms, because he craved love more and more.
***
In this thinner part of the forest, Potroh moved on carefully, from tree to tree. Now he really wished he could just fly away. Especially after what he saw.
From the direction he was heading, a group of ponies were walking his way. He counted six of them, and they all wore golden armor. So they were royal guards then, just like the ones the hive encountered at Canterlot. Potroh remembered the pony soldiers didn't offer them much of a challenge, mostly because they were vastly outnumbered.
But now, he was outnumbered, six to one. And with his wings out of commission, it was either hiding, or fighting.
Potroh knew he surely wouldn't survive a direct encounter. Even less so, as upon closer inspection, he noticed the ponies were all unicorns. With spells on their side, they would be even tougher adversaries. So hiding it was. They were still far away.
Hiding, then shapeshifting instantly. But only where the flash of the initial spell couldn't be seen. Otherwise, it would be all for naught.
Since the trees here were more sparse, the undergrowth was denser, with many bushes around. Potroh got behind a large, leafy bush, and observed what path the ponies would take. Sadly, they were spreading out, but luckily, they passed by Potroh without noticing him.
As the ponies passed him, he could overhear one of them, talking to the others.
"We're nearing the area where the Princess' chariot must have crashed. Reports indicate this forest might be home to changelings, so be wary of everything. When you meet a squadmate after you lost track of them, always ask the question. If you don't get an answer, or get an incorrect answer, it's a 'ling. Also, if it's not a pony, presume it's hostile. We're not taking any chances here."
Potroh gulped. That was bad. So these ponies were expecting their presence. How would they know? Didn't matter now. But he knew this also meant shapeshifting was out of the question. His cover would be blown easily. He would just spare his magic instead, for a potential emergency.
But sneaking could still work. When the pony patrol was further away, Potroh moved on. Underside the next bush, he had to stay half an hour, as one of the ponies circled back. Luckily, it didn't get too close to Potroh's position, and eventually rejoined the others. Or at least, went in that direction, where that crashed chariot was.
That belonged to a princess? Potroh didn't understand what a pony princess would do in a forest like this one, but he was miffed he didn't meet it. They said a princess could hold more love than any other pony. Would've been quite the meal...
But that was just a fleeting thought. Potroh quickly refocused on getting out of his predicament. Everypony was out of sight, so he couldn't be seen by them either. He left the cover of the bush, and continued heading south.
***
It was just him and the forest now. Potroh slowed down, his mind became more relaxed. Many birds perched high up in the canopies, which reminded him he was still hungry. He couldn't fly up there to take any of them, so instead he looked on the ground for any small creature he could capture. Their simple little souls held only a meager amount of love, but it would still be better than nothing.
Potroh let his guard down in his search, and as he circled around a thick bush, he found himself face to face with one of the pony soldiers. It let out a little gasp. He didn't manage even that much.
He just stared at the pony. Judging from its height, it must have been a female. It had its mouth open a bit, and held one of its front hooves in mid-air. It must have been as surprised by this encounter as Potroh if she froze mid-step.
It didn't move, and in turn, Potroh didn't dare to move himself. But what should he do? It was a unicorn, if he started to run, he would be shot. Heck, he would be shot if he lifted a single hoof. Or... should he shoot himself, instead of waiting for what would happen? He couldn't hide now, and running would mean making himself a clear target. But maybe, this unicorn wasn't a good warrior, and would just miss.
But he wouldn't know that. He had to decide. Every second passing brought either of them closer to their demise. He was sure one of them wouldn't survive this. Or maybe... there could be another way?
The pony female blinked, and closed its mouth. Its tail moved ever so slightly. Slowly, it put down its front hoof to the ground. She just stared at Potroh. The tension was unbearable.
It was just three or four meters away. He wouldn't miss.
No, wait... Maybe it wouldn’t...
Finally, the pony spoke. Potroh's heart made an irregular beat.
"Hey..."
The pony grinned, but it didn't seem like a friendly one. Potroh was ready. He had a spell in mind.
"...welcome to Equestria, buggo!"
***
Just a few moments later, the sharp sound of a magic bolt cast scared the birds away from the canopy above, flying away with panicked chirping. Then, it was all silence for minutes.
THE END
