Cocoons and Muffins

As you step out of the amusement park, the sun dips below the horizon, casting a warm golden glow across the sky. Though your mission in Ponyville is complete, you still feel a bit reluctant to leave and ask Derpy to accompany you for a little longer.

Suddenly, a sharp crack pierces the air, followed by angry cursing and the murmurs of a gathering crowd. You hurry toward the commotion.

A crowd of ponies gathers, blocking your way. After finally squeezing through, you see a stallion whipping an old ox. His face is flushed, and he looks like he has been drinking.

"You useless beast, move!" The whip cracks again, and the ox lets out a cry, tears welling up in its eyes.

"Hey! You can't do something like that! They're just as sentient as we are. It’s just they can't speak!" Derpy steps out from the crowd, walking toward the ox, her eyes struggling to focus as she glares angrily at the stallion.

The stallion sneers but doesn’t stop. The whip cracks again, and Derpy rushes forward, throwing her body in front of the ox. The stallion doesn’t expect this and tries to stop, but the whip is already out. It lands on her, though with less force.

"What are you doing, you crazy mare? Want me to beat you too?" The stallion growls, as if Derpy were interfering with him.

"You're not allowed to treat animals like that.” Derpy cries, “They're our friends!"

"This is none of your business, you idiot! This old ox is my property. I can do whatever I want with it," he grumbles, "It can't even walk anymore. Useless things deserve to be eliminated—it's the law of nature. Watch, I'll beat it to death right here!"

Derpy doesn’t back down, "It's old, of course it can't walk long distances. How would you feel if, when you're old, somepony rides on your back and whips you, telling you to go faster?" she looks at the gentle ox in front of her, which, despite being whipped so brutally, still hasn't shown any anger. Its skin is torn, and yet it just has tears in its eyes as if it doesn't understand why its owner is so furious. "If only Fluttershy were here, she could deal with this brute."

The stallion, through his drunken haze, squints at the mare in front of him and realizes it is Derpy.

"So that's who it is—the jinx who only brings bad luck to other ponies, who screws up everything she does, who can’t even look straight with those weird eyes. My theory is right: only weaklings sympathize with other weaklings. The strong don't need sympathy."

The crowd bursts into laughter, their mockery slicing through the air.

"Don't … don’t say that about me," she sobs, tears spilling down her cheeks.

"A grown mare who can't talk back and just cries—that's exactly what makes you weak." Hearing the stallion's words, the laughter from the crowd grows even louder.

"Hey, you scoundrel! Do you want a taste of my hoof?" you are furious, stepping out from the crowd, "You don’t get to bully Derpy. She’s more honest and kind-hearted than scum like you could ever hope to understand."

The stallion smirks. "Oh, Look! Another weakling. I bet you also have those weird eyes, huh? Oh, oh, maybe you’re a blank flank? Hahaha..." his laughter is cut short when he sees you baring your teeth, glaring at him with the intense gaze of a predator facing its sworn enemy. Your green, glowing eyes lock onto him, burning with unrestrained fury, your fangs looking like they could tear him apart with ease. He starts trembling, too scared to say anything. The crowd also falls silent, not a single pony daring to make a sound in your presence, as though a spell has seized their voices.

"What's the matter, tough guy?” you growl, baring your fangs. “Cat got your tongue? Here’s an idea—leave. Now. Before I make you regret every word that just came out of your mouth."

"As you command, your… Your Majesty." The words slip from his mouth before he can stop them, but there’s no other way to describe the terror radiating from this mare. It's a fear that even Princess Celestia could never evoke.

He scrambles, tugging at the ox's leash as if the beast could move any faster, but the old ox’s tired legs betray him. He looks more like the ox’s servant now, stumbling backward and dragging it along. The crowd soon disperses as well.

"Thank you so much. I shouldn’t have gotten involved, but you stood up for me," Derpy says, stepping up beside you. "Wow, the way you got angry just now was so cool! That rude stallion was terrified—did you see how he tried to run away from you? It was so satisfying!"

"No need to thank me. It’s what friends do." You can't believe you actually use the word "friendship"—such an evil concept.

"Even though we just met today, I want to say, you're my best friend." She wraps her hooves around you in a tight, earnest hug. You freeze for a moment, unsure of how to respond, the closeness making your chest tighten in a way you don’t quite understand. Best friend…??!

You walk down the street together.

"Let me walk you back to your hotel," she offers.

"No, I mean——thanks. But I’m leaving Ponyville today," you reply gently.

"Are you taking the train? Can you find the station by yourself? How about I take you to the train station?"

"No need, but thank you for your kindness,” you pause, noticing her lingering reluctance, “How about this: I’ll walk you home. You've bought quite a lot today, and it might be hard for you to carry everything on your own." You both are carrying a lot, including the Twilight plushie, a pile of candy, and the carefully wrapped suit. These are all gifts for her husband and her daughter. The candy was bought with cash, and the suit was purchased using her husband's store membership card.

"Are you sure? What about your train? If I make you late, then I’ll become a burden to my friend." she worries.

"It’s fine. To be honest, I don't need the train. I can just teleport straight home." You gesture toward your horn.

"Oh, that’s awesome! I’ve heard Princess Twilight can do that too, but I’ve never seen it in action. Can you show me?"

"Well, I could... but not today. It's too late now, and besides, I’ve only practiced teleporting myself. I don’t know how to take another pony with me. Maybe when I get better with the spell, I can show you next time?"

Her face lights up with a hopeful smile. "Alright, I’ll look forward to it."

"Sorry, forgive me for asking, but there’s something I’d like to know."

She tilts her head, "What is it?"

"You mentioned earlier that you weren’t always like this when you were younger. What happened?"

"Actually, there’s nothing I can’t talk about. What happened has already happened, and it’s been so many years. There’s no regret now," she says with such ease that it surprises you.

"When I was little, my parents really wanted me to become an expert flier. For Pegasi, physical strength and flying ability are everything. They enrolled me in a rigorous sports school where I trained constantly. I was put on a strict diet—no candy, no treats, nothing fun. I watched my friends laughing and playing, eating sweets, while I spent my days flying laps or perfecting my form. So, I grew up feeling quite lonely.

"But the hard work paid off. I was naturally talented, and my flying skills improved rapidly. I competed in the national 'Pegasus Flight Competition' and won the championship in the youth category. Can you believe it? Rainbow Dash, now a rising star in the Wonderbolts, was also my opponent back then. And even she couldn’t beat me!

"I wasn’t just good at flying, I was also good at archery. While I wasn’t as skilled at archery as I was at flying, I still ranked in the top few in national competitions. But now… well, you saw how that turned out. I couldn’t even hit the target and nearly gave you a nasty bump on the head.

"Then came the accident that changed everything. My coach decided to take us to a remote valley to train our courage——it was part of building bravery, an essential trait for elite fliers. But during that session, I got separated from the group. They searched for hours, and when they couldn’t find me, they called my parents and some of my relatives. A massive search party combed the valley for three days until they found me at the bottom of a cliff. Apparently, I had fallen off a cliff and landed in a bush with my wings broken.” Her voice starts to tremble as if reliving the pain.

“I was unconscious but still alive. My parents rushed me to the largest hospital in Canterlot. After a week of emergency treatment, I survived. But my wings were permanently damaged, and I could never fly as fast as I used to. Worse still, I’d suffered a concussion. Since then, my eyes haven’t been the same, and my mind... it’s not as sharp as it once was.

"My parents were devastated. They blamed themselves for pushing me too hard. Now, they don’t expect anything from me. It’s like I can’t do anything at all."

You struggle to find words, your heart aching for her. "That’s such a sad story. I can’t imagine how hard that must have been for you."

"Actually, it’s all in the past now. At least I have my family: my loving husband and my sweet little daughter. I also have my job. Even though I often get strange looks from others, I’m still helping other ponies. I remember one Hearth's Warming when I delivered a letter to a little girl. When she saw the news that her father was safe, she burst into tears of joy. I experienced something similar when I was little, and it inspired me to become a mail pony. My parents didn’t oppose my career choice. They said they’d support me no matter what I did. Before my accident, they were strongly against me doing this kind of work.

“It hasn’t been easy. I like helping others, but most ponies don’t need my help. Some ponies claim I only cause trouble. Some even spread rumors that I bring bad luck. These rumors grew wilder, and eventually, everypony avoided me like some sort of plague. I felt so lonely. But I’ve always just wanted to be a good pony and help others. I never meant to cause any trouble. Today, being able to help you has been the happiest thing for me this year." She smiles again.

Before you know it, you arrive at her house.

"There’s something I need to tell you.” You feel the need to comfort her. “You truly are an angel. Those malicious ponies who curse, insult, and mock you will never find happiness. You deserve so much better than their unkindness."

"I don’t like it when you curse other ponies, even if they curse me. If you stoop to their level, you’re no better than they are."

"You’re right," you continue, "And there’s something else I need to say. I don’t think you’re stupid. You might have trouble seeing sometimes, but that doesn’t make you stupid. You probably started to believe you were because of the way others treated you, but that’s not the truth. You started to act in ways that fed into their prejudice, which only made you feel more inadequate. It’s a vicious cycle."

Her eyes widen in surprise, then soften with thought. "Thank you for saying that. I’ll try to be more confident from now on. We can’t let other ponies’ judgments define us."

"It’s late now, and you should get some rest. Take care, my friend. And don’t forget to write to me. My address is right here."

"Of course. Take care. We’ll stay in touch," you promise her, but deep down, you know it’s a promise you can never keep. No pony would ever deliver a letter to the changeling hive. You know you were deceiving her, but giving her a bit of hope, even if it was false, seemed to be worthwhile. As the Changeling proverb goes: Hope is for today, disappointment is for tomorrow.

You watch her enter her house and close the door. She waves goodbye to you one last time through the window before showing her husband and daughter the gifts she bought. That little filly must be Dinky. She lit up with joy at the sight of the candy, as if it were Hearth's Warming Eve. You stand there watching for a while before leaving. What a happy family they are.

And you? You’ll return to that cold and gloomy castle.

The teleportation spell swiftly brings you back to the hive.

"Your Majesty, you're finally back! We were all worried when you hadn't returned by this hour. If you hadn't come back tonight, we were going to organize an assault on Ponyville," Pharynx says with a relieved sigh.

"I’ve gathered all the information we need about Ponyville. Tomorrow, I'll present my findings to the ministers. The battle plan will be finalized, and soon we'll conquer those foolish ponies. Then, we'll be able to feast every day, and no changeling will starve ever again."

"Your Majesty’s wisdom knows no bounds. You've done so much for the kingdom, and we stand ready to follow your lead into battle." Pharynx continues, "You must be exhausted after such a long day of scouting. Please, take the time to rest."

Heeding his advice, you retreat to your quarters. As soon as your head touches the bed, you feel the weight of the day slipping away. Soon, you drift into sleep.

……

Your childhood memories start to resurface in your dream.

On your 14th birthday, your father sent you on your first hunt—this was your rite of passage trial. In changeling tradition, the rite of passage is the ability to hunt alone. Failure to complete this trial meant enduring ridicule, insults, and even physical punishment from the hive. By the age of 18, those who still hadn’t succeeded were condemned to lives of grueling, degrading labor, bringing shame to their families. The rules applied to everyone—even royalty. In theory, if an heir to the throne failed, their entire family would be stripped of power, and a new king and heir would be chosen because they were deemed unfit to rule. It was similar to the role of cutie marks in pony society: without a cutie mark, a pony could never feel a sense of belonging among others.

You didn’t want to go, but the fear of disgracing your father drove you forward. Some drones split off, some hunting alone while others formed groups to raid nearby pony villages. You said you wanted to hunt solo. You wandered aimlessly through the valley, telling yourself that if you didn’t catch any ponies, it wouldn’t be a big deal—you still had four years before turning 18. Still, you knew the risks: encountering an adult pony would force you to flee, while stumbling across a foal, though unlikely in the wilderness, might give you a slim chance of success.

Just then, you heard the sound of crying from nearby—a clear, soft voice, like that of a little filly. You followed the sound and found a gray filly with a pale yellow mane sitting against a large rock, tears streaming down her face. A great opportunity! You snuck up and knocked her out with a stick, then used your changeling magic to trap her in a cocoon. You knocked her out first because your cocoon magic was weak back then, and you feared she might break free.

You hurried back to the hive, where your father reinforced the cocoon with his stronger magic, ensuring the filly couldn’t break free. Among your peers, you were the first to capture a pony. Those who returned empty-hooved looked at you with envy. Just like that, you passed your trial with startling ease.

"Father, since I've caught a pony and completed my trial, can we release her now?" Back then, you would still ask naive questions.

"Of course not. She is our food. Do you have any idea how hard it is to find food?" Your father's fierce gaze silenced you.

To drive the lesson home—that mercy has no place when it comes to survival—your father did something you would never forget. Your father pulled the gray filly out of the cocoon. He snapped both of her wings like brittle twigs right in front of you. Her anguished cries pierced the air before he threw her against a wall with brutal force. She hit her head and fell unconscious. Yet, he didn’t kill her. A dead pony contains no love to harvest—a fact your father understood all too well.

That night, you went to the underground storage in the castle where food was kept. You found the filly, and you thought about how worried her parents must be. If she died, her parents would be heartbroken.

You saw her crying. When she saw you, she begged you to release her, saying she didn’t want to die, that she still wanted to see her parents. Something stirred inside you—pity, or perhaps guilt. Acting on impulse, you picked a stone and cracked open her cocoon. She stared at you for a moment, but without a word of thanks, she ran off quickly, as if afraid you might change your mind.

That night, chaos erupted in the hive. A guard noticed that a piece of food had gone missing, so he rang the alarm and led an entire squad of soldiers to search for her. Your father ordered a thorough investigation to find the culprit and all evidence pointed to you. As punishment, you were grounded and left to starve in the dungeon for three days.

During your confinement, you heard that the filly, pursued by changeling soldiers, had fallen off a cliff during her escape. The ravine was deep, and with her wings broken, there was no way she could have survived. Dead ponies are no longer consumable, so the soldiers didn’t bother searching the ravine as it would waste valuable time and resources.

That event taught you a crucial lesson from your father: never show mercy to food or enemies. Mercy to your enemies is cruelty to yourself.

……

The owl is still asleep, but you are already awake. Now you are certain that the filly you caught
back then is the same pony you encountered today. The irony is almost unbearable. Just hours ago, you nearly let yourself fall into her trap, entertaining the foolish idea of friendship. Friendship! What a laughable notion!

You remind yourself that enemies are always enemies; they can never become friends. Ponies are enemies and food—that’s the law of nature. The law of nature teaches us that the weak exist to feed the strong. Ponies will eventually be defeated, ruled, and enslaved by superior beings. If changelings fail to conquer, they will be the ones eradicated. Besides, don’t ponies love to enslave other races too? The tragic fate of that old ox is proof. The blade of the weak always falls on the weaker.

Freedom, sympathy, friendship—these are illusions, false ideals clung to by those too naive to see reality. If changelings accept the ponies' ridiculous idea of friendship, they’ll only become their slaves, losing their freedom, living lives more miserable than that old ox. Freedom belongs only to the strong; the weak will never have it. Sympathy, if it exists at all, is shared only among equals, never between predator and prey.

Now you have a nearly complete plan for the conquest of Ponyville, and all that remains is to put it into action. The glory of the changelings will soon be realized under your rule, and you even have a way to control the Elements of Harmony. You will take revenge on Twilight and her friends, force those pitiful pony Princesses to kneel at your hooves, and make all other races bow before you.

The thought of victory fills you with triumph, and a sharp laugh escapes your lips, echoing through the castle. The sound disturbs the stillness of the night, rousing the sleeping owl from its perch.