Cocoons and Muffins

At dawn—or what passes for dawn in the changeling territory—the hoot of an owl stirs you from sleep. You open the window, but no sunlight comes. Instead, the heavy stench of swamp drifts in. However, the air invigorates you, as though the night itself breathes life into your bones. In this land of eternal night, owls are more than pets—they are the keepers of time, their calls marking the hours.

Your bedroom is spacious, its dark walls carved into irregular hollows that weave together like veins—an organic design perfectly suited to changeling aesthetics. Despite its size, the room feels sparse. A sturdy desk sits in one corner, flanked by a bookshelf brimming with worn tomes on warfare and governance, relics passed down from your father. Near the door, a single photo draws the eye: your father and your younger self. His stern, chiseled features are a stark contrast to your wide, curious eyes.

"Your Majesty, breakfast is ready," a voice calls.

"Bring it to the living room as usual."

"As you wish, Your Majesty."

You leave the bedroom and descend the winding staircase. You come to your living room where a filly is tied up and placed in the center. Her beige mane, once soft and lustrous, now hangs in brittle strands, almost turning gray after spending five months in the cocoon. She trembles, begging you not to eat her, but you ignore the whining and suck every drop of love out of her body. With her mind shattered and love consumed, she is barely alive. But you never have to clean up the mess yourself as your servants will toss her off the cliff later, into Maw of the Abyss—a natural pit used as the changelings' dump.

"Ugh, stale as ever." Although the meal is far from satisfying, it is enough to keep you from starving for at least a whole day. You know the servants had no choice but to serve you a pony that had been stored for five months—It's been five months since the changelings captured any food. If you don’t launch a full-scale attack on those foolish ponies soon, more changelings will starve to death. You know all too well that your reign will be in danger when that happens.

As you descend the stairs, you glance at the portraits of past changeling monarchs lining the walls. The throne has been passed down generation after generation, and you don’t want to see the kingdom destroyed by your incompetence.

At the bottom of the stairs, you see a servant preparing to go upstairs to clean up the mess. You flick out your tongue and hiss at him.

“What is the meaning of this? The meal was atrocious. If this is the best you can offer, perhaps I should find a permanent use for your pitiful lives.”

The small drone is terrified by your reaction. He stammers an apology, explaining that with no fresh prey available, they had no choice but to serve you a pony stored for months.

“Useless!” You snap, striking him on the head. Lights dance before his eyes, but he still begs for your forgiveness. You always revel in the utter submission of those inferior to you, savoring every moment of their weakness.

"The attack can't be delayed any longer," you mutter to yourself.

You enter the council hall, summon your trusted minions, and announce your plan—you will transform into a pony and go to Ponyville today to scout the enemy.

“Your Majesty, this is too risky,” Pharynx, your guard captain, objects firmly, “You are the leader and the beacon of hope for all changelings. It’s far too dangerous for you to scout the enemy. If your identity is exposed and get serious injuries in the process, it would plunge the hive into chaos. Please allow me to take this risk in your stead.”

“You worry too much, Pharynx. I’ve infiltrated Canterlot several times before, and have more experience than any of you. I’ll only be gone for one day, so there won’t be any problems.”

“If Your Majesty insists on going, I would like to send guards to accompany you,” Pharynx requests.

“That’s even worse,” you object, your tone leaving no room for debate, “I’ll disguise myself as an ordinary pony. Guards would only attract unwanted attention.” Your gaze sweeps over the assembled changelings. “My decision is final. Anyone who tries to stop me will be executed on the spot. This is an order from your queen.” The room falls silent, the changelings’ hesitation melting into submissive stillness as your words hang heavy in the air.

And so, you transform into a pony and set off for Ponyville on your own.

You arrive in Ponyville for the first time. Though it's a small town, Ponyville is larger than you'd expect. It lacks the grandeur of a big city, but to make up for it, it has everything one could need — shops on both sides of the streets offer a wide range of daily necessities and services, making everyday life convenient.

You bought a map but find it hard to read. Navigating this unfamiliar place and quickly figuring out the best scouting routes isn't easy. However, admitting defeat isn’t an option—you’re far too proud for that—so you set off aimlessly, hoping to piece together the layout through sheer determination. Yet the more you wander, the less useful information you gather: You had expected patrols or at least some sign of vigilance, but so far, you haven’t seen a single soldier. The memory of Canterlot castle flashes in your mind—its endless corridors brimming with armored guards at every turn. The stark contrast unsettles you. Could this be a trap? Despite your unease, no pony pays you any undue attention. For now, at least, your cover remains intact.

Lost in your suspicions, you fail to notice the pony right in front of you until it’s too late. You bump into her, stumbling back from the unexpected impact.

“Oh! I’m so sorry!” You exclaim, quickly switching to your pre-prepared excuse. “I was so caught up admiring this lovely town that I didn’t see you there.” Your voice carries a carefully rehearsed cheerfulness as you plaster on a friendly smile. You can’t afford to let even a hint of your true motives show.

You look up at the pony you just bumped into and immediately notice how different she is. Her misaligned eyes dart in different directions—one fixed on the sky, the other on the ground. She blinks and tries to focus both eyes on you, but the one that has been looking up shifts to the ground while the other switches to the sky. Her mane is a soft yellow, her coat a gentle gray, and her flank bears a pattern of bubbles—cutie mark, as ponies call it. You suppress a grimace at the term. Cute. The word almost makes you vomit. You can’t imagine qualities more useless than this.

She tries once again to focus her eyes on you but fails to do so.

“It’s okay,” she speaks up, “I didn’t notice you either—you might not know, but my eyesight isn’t very good.”

I might not know? Really? Your weird eyes make it so obvious.

She tries to look at you for a while, her eyes once again switching places. “Hmm, I don’t think I’ve seen you before. You’re not from Ponyville, are you? Where are you from?”

Your heart skips a beat, panic flickering beneath your composed exterior. But you quickly recover as you know the map of Equestria like the back of your hoof. “I’m from Canterlot,” you flash a practiced smile, “I heard this town is unique, so I thought I’d come to see it for myself.”

“Oh, Canterlot! You must live such an exciting life—so many ponies to meet, so many places to see! And living in the same city as Princess Celestia and Princess Luna? That’s amazing. I can’t imagine anything better than that! ”Her gaze shifts to a magnificent castle in the distance, “But we’re not too shabby here, either. We’ve got our own princess now!” Her smile is radiant, full of small-town pride.

The "princess" she mentioned must be Twilight Sparkle. The first time you saw her was at the Canterlot wedding, where she and her friends, along with her brother and sister-in-law, ruined your plan and forced changelings to retreat from pony territory. You’ll never forget such defeat, but soon, you will have your revenge.

"This town really is something," you comment, "It’s hard for me to imagine a pony princess—I mean—a princess actually comes from such a small place, so I decided to come here to see what makes it so special."

“Actually, there’s nothing particularly special about this town. It’s not as bustling as Canterlot, but the one thing that makes it different from other cities is that the residents live a happy and fulfilling life. And they’re all so friendly—whether you’re a local or just visiting.

“Maybe I’m not explaining it well enough,” she continues, her mismatched eyes lighting up. “How about I show you around? Since it’s your first time here, I’m afraid you might wander around all day without finding the best sights or fun things to do. I’ve got the day off, so I’d be happy to be your guide.” She smiles sincerely, eyes full of enthusiasm. You really need somepony to guide you around, or today will be rather unproductive, so you agree with her idea.

“Oh, wait—I forgot to ask your name! I’m Derpy Hooves. You can just call me Derpy, Like everypony else does around here. Not sure why they call me that, though.” She tilts her head, looking at you expectantly.

Fortunately, you’ve prepared for this moment and tell her your name. “My name is... Shutter Bug. You can just call me Shutter.” You point to your cutie mark—it’s a large, vibrant ladybug.

She suddenly bursts out laughing, covering her head with her wings. “Your cutie mark and name are so unique!” She says between giggles, “So, does that mean you’re, like, good with ladybugs?”

“No idea, honestly. I’ve never figured out what it is supposed to mean.”

“Ah, well, then we have something in common—we both don’t know what our cutie marks really mean.” She gestures to the bubbles on her flank and continues, “I used to think my talent was blowing bubbles, but… I’m terrible at that. Honestly, I have no idea what my talent really is as I can’t seem to do anything well. Sometimes, I even wonder if this cutie mark is trying to tell me that everything I do is just a bubble—something fragile, ready to pop at any moment.” Her voice trails off, trembling, and she blinks rapidly as if fighting back tears.

You quickly try to comfort her. “Have you ever heard the saying, ‘Everypony has their place in the world’? Don’t be so hard on yourself. Maybe your talent is making others like you. I, for one, love blowing bubbles.” It’s a lie, of course—you’ve never done anything so frivolous in your life, but you once read in a book that foals in Equestria like blowing bubbles. At the time, you thought you would never use this information, but now it comes in handy.

“Thank you, but I know I’m not exactly the kind of pony others like. Maybe it takes time.”

“Don’t dwell on it any longer. How about showing me around Ponyville now?” You know you can’t afford to waste more time—you only have one day.

“Oh right, I’m so sorry! Let me take you around.” Surprisingly, she quickly pulls herself back together, as if she’d practiced this many times before.

Derpy beams with excitement. “How about we visit the castle first? Since you said you came here because of Princess Twilight Sparkle, it’s the perfect place to start!”

You stiffen at the suggestion, your mind racing. An encounter with that overly observant princess could spell disaster.

Keeping your voice calm, you wave a hoof dismissively. “Princess Twilight? She’s way out of my league. I mean, I believe ponies like me could never meet her without a good reason. Besides, she’s probably swamped with royal duties anyway. It wouldn’t feel right to disturb her. Honestly? A picture with the castle will do for now. It’ll be a nice keepsake.” Grabbing a passing pony, you strike a quick pose in front of the castle and ask him to take a photo for you. You barely glance at the result before pocketing the photo—it’s just a pretense, after all.

After you’re done, Derpy starts rattling off ideas with enthusiasm, "You're right. She must be super busy right now. And we don't have a good reason to meet the princess. So, where do you want to go first? There’s so much to see here! We’ve got a cozy bookstore—though it’s nothing like the Golden Oak Library was before it got destroyed in a fierce battle. Also, can you believe Princess Twilight used to be the librarian there? Oh! There’s an antique shop with all kinds of cool artifacts and a bakery run by the Cake family, where Pinkie Pie works. She throws the best parties in town! If you’re into fashion, Rarity’s boutique is incredible—she even has a branch in Canterlot. And just outside town is Sweet Apple Acres, where they grow the juiciest apples in all of Equestria. Wanna try some?” She seems proud of the town, familiar with every detail.

"I think I'd like to visit the antique shop first. I have a fondness for old things," you reply, trying to avoid Twilight and her friends in case they disrupt your plan.

"Alright. I'll take you there." A slight look of puzzlement appears in her mismatched eyes as she asks, "I didn’t think you’d be into antiques. Is there a story behind that?"

"Not really. I just feel that each of those old objects has a story to tell. It’s almost like I’m having a conversation with them." Of course, the “old objects” you’re really thinking of are the worn-out items back home and the changeling hive where generations of changelings lived. You’ve always found comfort in the quiet decay of the past. Antique shops remind you of your castle, cloaked in dust and mold. The thought of living in this spotless, cheerful Ponyville forever makes your skin crawl.

"You're from a big city, aren't you? You sound so cultured. I trust your judgment." She smiles, revealing two rows of slightly yellowed teeth, with bits of hay still stuck between them. You suppress a wince. Perhaps this is one reason why others don’t like her.

As the two of you walk toward the antique shop, Derpy suddenly shouts, "Good morning, Rainbow Dash!" Her voice is sharp yet cheerful, cutting through the morning air like a bell. Overhead, a blue pony with a rainbow mane pauses mid-flight and glances your way. At first, she seems ready to fly off, but something makes her hesitate. For a moment, she hovers, her gaze lingering on you. Then, with a bright smile, she calls back, “Good morning, Derpy!” before zipping away.

"A bit rude, don’t you think?" You frown. Though your voice carries irritation, you feel a wave of relief that Rainbow Dash didn’t come over—or worse, got introduced. She might have seen through your disguise.

"That's just how she is. You'll get used to it. She’s far from being self-centered or even selfish. In fact, she’s one of the most loyal ponies I know, the kind who’d do anything for her friends."

"How do you know her so well?" You raise your eyebrows.

"You won't believe this, but I'm actually her pen pal. We've been writing to each other anonymously for many years now," Derpy says, her smile as warm and bright as a spring morning.

Your jaw drops. "Rainbow Dash? Seriously? Does she know it's you?"

"Of course not,” she chuckles, shaking her head, “If she did, do you think she’d still act like that? But I don't want her to know, either. If she found out that her pen pal lives right here in the same town, and that it’s me, she might stop writing altogether. And she'd never guess. Every time I send or pick up a letter, I just drop it in her mailbox myself. She’d never suspect the mail pony!" For a pony like Rainbow Dash, who is known for being blunt and direct, this clever ruse would never cross her mind.

"She's THE top flyer in Equestria. In her letters, she's told me all about the struggles to get into the Wonderbolts and her adventures with Princess Twilight. Did you know they even defeated Queen Chrysalis and her changeling army? Though to be honest, Princess Twilight’s brother and his wife deserve most of the credit."

Your chest tightens, and you fight to constrain the anger that threatens to break through your calm. Thankfully, Derpy is too caught up in her story to notice the subtle change in your mood.

"She’s actually kind of a tsundere, you know?” Derpy leans in and whispers. “She secretly enjoys going to the spa, but she wants to keep up her tomboy image. So, she memorized her friends' spa days and went on different days to avoid them. But one day she bumped into Rarity and Princess Twilight there. She had to pretend she was recovering from a sports injury, but they didn’t believe her for even a split second! It was so awkward!"

Both of you burst into laughter.

"You have such a cute laugh. You know, ever since I saw you, you've always looked so serious, like you’ve got a lot on your mind. I tried cheering you up with my smile, but that didn’t seem to work. So I figured I had to start telling jokes."

"Huh? Was I really frowning the whole time? I didn't even notice."

"Yeah. Is something bothering you? You can tell me. Maybe I can help."

"Uh… no, there’s no need for that. But thanks." You raise your guard. Even though things have gone smoothly so far, you can't risk revealing anything. If she ever finds out who you really are, then she’ll alert the guards without hesitation. Still, you feel the need to give a reasonable explanation to avoid arousing her suspicion. After a brief pause, you add, "I guess I do have something on my mind—my father passed away recently and it’s been… hard. That's the main reason I came to Ponyville—to clear my head." It’s not entirely a lie. Your father did die—years ago. The memory still lingers, a shadow from the past. If she asks for details, you’ll know how to handle it.

Derpy’s ears droop and she stammers, "Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. I didn't know you had gone through such a loss. I shouldn't have asked… I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. I'm … I’m such a failure."

"It's not your fault,” you reach your hoof to her. ”You didn’t know. And, well, you were just trying to help. That makes you a kind pony. " The roles have reversed—you were the one supposed to be consoled, yet here you are, comforting her instead.

Lost in the moment, you almost don’t notice when you arrive at the entrance to the antique shop.

Before you even enter the antique shop, the display through the glass captivates you. A variety of old items fill the dim interior, exuding stories waiting to be discovered. Outside, the sign reads Old Stallion Antique Shop, the bold calligraphy strokes revealing the shopkeeper's practiced skill and artistic flair.

As you push open the door, an old orange cat sleeping by the entrance stretches, lets out a soft meow, and promptly returns to its slumber, as if the world outside barely concerns it. The shop greets you with an eerie stillness. Sunlight refuses to pierce through the gloom, leaving the space dimly illuminated by flickering lamps, their pale glow casting shifting shadows across the room.

The shop’s lifeless air reminds you of home, where silence reigns. A towering grandfather clock ticks faintly, its hands sluggish, as though burdened by time itself. You half expect it to stop at any moment. In one corner, an old piano sits abandoned, its yellowed sheet music forgotten by time. Nearby, a shelf of dolls, their frozen smiles unnervingly vivid in the dim light, sends an involuntary chill down your spine. Portraits of somber-faced ponies line the walls, their stern gazes reminiscent of the former kings immortalized in the changeling hive.

Navigating the crowded shop proves to be a challenge, as clutter occupies nearly every inch of space. The air smells stale, a sour blend of dust and decay that lingers in your nostrils. Dust blankets the items, suggesting their owner might be just as lazy as the old cat. Yet, despite the gloom and disarray, the shop feels strangely welcoming, as if whispering to you in a language only you can understand.

Lost in thought, you jump slightly as the door creaks open behind you. An elderly pony shuffles in, his slow, deliberate movements echoing the shop's timeless aura. His voice is raspy yet steady as he greets you.

"Welcome to Old Stallion Antique Shop,” he says, each word punctuated by a cough. “Is there something I can help you with?”

"We're just browsing. If we find something we like, we'll let you know," you reply.

"Alright, take your time. If you need anything, just ask," he replies absentmindedly, picking up an old, dirty handkerchief and starts wiping his glasses. Yet, the more he wipes, the more smeared they become, though he doesn’t seem to care. You begin to suspect those glasses don’t serve any purpose.

"How much for this spellbook, you old fo… uh, I mean, sir?" you ask, picking up a worn-out book.

The old pony waves dismissively. "That pile over there? Just some of my nephew's discarded comic books. If you like any of them, just take it. I won't charge you anything."

"Well, thank you, sir." You hold back a smirk, fully aware of the advantage you’ve taken. He has no idea what he just handed over. This is no comic book—it contains the duplication spell, a spell so rare and ancient it’s practically mythical. By obtaining a small piece of a creature's body—hair, feathers, or scales—alongside objects tied to their essence, and reciting the spell in the book, you can create a clone of the creature. An idea begins to form in your mind. If you use this spell to duplicate Twilight Sparkle and her friends, and have them control the Elements of Harmony, then the changelings will be truly unstoppable. And Equestria will fall into your hooves in no time.

As you revel in your imagined victory, a sinister laugh slips from your lips, causing Derpy and the old pony to look at you with confused expressions. Aware of this, you quickly explain that the content of the book is just so absurd it made you laugh.

"Hey, Shutter! Look at this window! Isn't it pretty?" Derpy calls out as she gazes at a colorful stained-glass window in the corner of the shop. She moves closer for a better look but her hoof lands on a ball left carelessly on the floor.

"Whoa!" she yelps as the ball rolls under her, sending her crashing into a wooden shelf. The impact sends a cascade of dolls tumbling down, their eerily smiling faces piling onto her. "Aaaah!" she screams, flailing in a panic. Her hind legs kick out wildly, knocking over a fragile wooden stand. The stand topples with a sickening crash, scattering priceless porcelain into countless jagged shards. As the stand falls, it clips the edge of the grandfather clock. The clock starts wobbling dangerously. You try to save yourself from the incoming impact, but in the cramped shop, there is nowhere to run. With a resounding thud, the heavy clock crashes onto you, forcing a loud "Oof!" from your lungs.

In a matter of few seconds, the whole shop is thrown into chaos: papers scatter across the floor, shattered porcelain glints on the ground, and the old cat wakes up and bolts in frenzied terror, knocking over yet more items in its mad dash.

"Shutter! Are you okay?" Derpy scrambles to her hooves, climbing over the chaotic pile of clutter with great concern.

Your head throbs where the clock hit you, and your vision swims for a moment. Shaking the dizziness off, you try to push the clock off, but it’s too heavy. Thankfully, Derpy comes to you and grabs one side. Together, you manage to shove the towering weight aside, freeing yourself from the rubble.

Before you can catch your breath, a furious voice erupts, "You two idiots have destroyed my shop! Out! Out before I bash your heads in!" The old pony waves his hoof at you like a club.
Without a second thought, you and Derpy dash for the exit, tripping over scattered debris much like the frightened cat.

You check your bag as you come to the street. Thankfully, you still got the spellbook.