Chapters 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.
You check your bag as you come to the street. Thankfully, you still got the spellbook.
You are fuming, your patience worn thin by this clumsy pegasus. Without a word, you start walking again, aimlessly, hoping to clear your mind.
"I am really, really sorry.” Behind you, Derpy’s voice trembles, “I’m always like this. No matter how hard I try to change, I just can’t." Her voice cracks, and when you glance back, tears are streaming down her cheeks. "I’m such a failure. I always end up hurting the ones close to me."
You thought she’d seen through your disguise and was planning to take you down in the antique shop. But her tears seem genuine. A moment ago, you had this idea of revealing yourself and sucking every drop of love out of her, but now it seems your identity isn’t exposed. Acting against her now could jeopardize the entire mission. Worse, the hive would mock you mercilessly if you failed. The thought of losing their respect, of being seen as weak or incompetent, makes your chest tighten. A rebellion isn’t out of the question. Thus, you decide to tolerate this idiot for a little longer.
“It’s okay, Derpy. You just startled me a little, that’s all. Nothing too serious." Despite your words, the dull ache in your head from the clock’s impact reminds you otherwise.
"I’m so glad you’re okay." She suddenly throws her hooves around you, but that doesn’t stop her from crying. In fact, her sobs grow even more intense.
She... hugged me? No creature has ever hugged you before, let alone cried so bitterly in your embrace. For a moment, your instincts scream at you to pull away. And yet, you remain still, caught off guard not just by the hug but by the unfamiliar sensation stirring in your chest. It’s fleeting, so faint you wonder if you imagined it. But it’s enough to leave you unsettled.
“Hey, Derpy! How are you doing? Who’s this?” A grey stallion with a green mane approaches her, his expression friendly but quickly shifting to concern as he notices her tear-streaked face.
“Wait, why are you crying? Did somepony bully you?” His gaze sharpens as it lands on you. “Was it this mare? I’ll teach her a lesson if—”
“N-no.” Derpy interrupts, shaking her head frantically. “She’s m-my new friend … and I wasn’t bullied by anypony. It was just … I …I remembered something sad.” Derpy wipes her tears as she chokes out the words between sobs.
You step forward, narrowing your eyes slightly. “And you are…?”
“I’m Forest Rain,” the stallion says, his posture relaxing a little. “And you?”
“I’m Shutter Bug, I just met Derpy today. Are you her brother?”
“Not really,” he explains, “but we’re like family. It’s a long story. A year ago, I was… well, a mess. I was an adult without a cutie mark, and ponies mocked me as a blank flank. I hated myself for it. There was even a day I planned to leave Ponyville for good. But Derpy… she stopped me.” His voice softens as he glances at her. “She shared her story, how she’s been treated, and how she chose to embrace who she is instead of giving up. If she could do that after everything she’s been through, what excuse did I have?”
“Later, with the Cutie Mark Crusaders’ help, I found my cutie mark and my purpose. But it was Derpy who saved me first.” He looks back at you with a firm expression. “So, I won’t stand by if anypony hurts her.”
You didn’t expect this bumbling pegasus to have such strength. Life had burdened her with sorrow, yet she responded with warmth and compassion. The thought feels foreign and nauseating—since when do I think like these sentimental ponies?
But you can’t afford to waste more time watching her crying. After all, you still have a mission. You glance at her, sighing inwardly. "You’re stronger than you think, Derpy," you force a kind tone even as the words make your stomach churn. “Most ponies couldn’t show kindness after what you’ve been through. If some don’t see that, it’s their loss, not yours.”
Forest Rain steps closer, “Derpy, stop crying. Even though rumors say you bring bad luck, and that’s why ponies stay away and give you the cold shoulder, it’s not true. You don’t bring bad luck, but rather laughter and hope.”
His voice is tinged with frustration, “I know one thing: every Hearth's Warming, you give up time with your family to cover extra shifts so your coworkers can be with theirs. You always brave the snowstorms, delivering letters to countless homes from town to town. But what do you get every time? Cold stares and ponies rushing to sign their mail so you’ll leave. It’s almost like if you stayed long enough, their houses would collapse.
“But that’s what makes you a great pony. You have a family too. Don’t you also want to get together with them? Yet you sacrifice your own for the sake of others while your husband and daughter wait at home for you every Hearth's Warming."
Her sobbing gradually subsides. "Thank you both for trying to cheer me up. I feel better now."
“No offense, but, Derpy, what’s the reason behind your actions?” you ask.
After calming down a bit, she takes a deep breath and replies, "The answer is actually pretty simple. When I was little, there was once a Hearth's Warming Eve when it snowed so heavily that my dad’s train from Manehattan got stuck halfway. Since he couldn’t make it home, my mom and I were worried sick, not knowing if he was safe. Then, there was a knock at the door. It was a mail pony. He brought us a message saying my dad was okay and would be home as soon as the storm cleared. I’ll never forget that moment. The relief, the hope… Since then, I’ve dreamed of becoming a mail pony. Even after the incident, I never let go of that dream."
You want to ask what "incident" she was referring to, but you figure you should save that question for later. As Derpy feels much better now, Forest Rain doesn’t plan to stay long since he has other things to take care of. He wishes the two of you a pleasant day as he trots away.
You arrive at Sweet Apple Acres because Derpy insists that you’ll miss the best part of Ponyville if you don’t try the apples here.
If you had known the owner of this orchard was Applejack, you would have stayed far away. Now, here you are, standing face-to-face with this honest earth pony. You are worried she might sense something.
After Derpy introduces you to her, she tips her hat with a warm smile, “Howdy there, Shutter Bug! Your eyes look a kinda familiar, but I reckon this is our first meetin’. First time to Ponyville?”
“Yeah, first time,” your voice sounds stiff, but you manage to keep your emotions in check.
“Yee-haw! If Pinkie were here, she’d be planning you a big ol’ welcome party for ya right now. She’s got a knack for makin’ ponies feel at home. She even threw one for Twilight when she first came to town, and the next thing you know, Twilight’s stickin’ around. Of course, that’s probably more Twilight’s thing than Pinkie’s party, but still… if she threw you such a party, you might want to stick around, too.” Applejack laughs, but as neither of you shares her amusement, her laugh fades and recovers her composure.
“A-anyway, welcome to Sweet Apple Acres! Help yourselves to some apples! No need to be shy.” Applejack sizes you up, and then her eyes widen. “Oh, horse apples! I got so excited seein’ ya, I didn’t even notice you’re hurt. Sit tight, and let me fix ya up real quick.”
You didn’t notice that until now—when the clock in the antique shop fell on you, some shards of glass had embedded themselves in your flesh. Now that you are aware of it, the pain starts creeping in, but it’s nothing unbearable. Changelings shrug off minor injuries, unlike ponies, who seem to make a fuss over every little scrape. Applejack, however, is not about to let it go. She calls for Apple Bloom to fetch some alcohol and bandages, and despite your protests, she approaches you and starts cleaning the wound. Changelings never need this kind of fuss—they just tough out the pain. If your soldiers saw you like this, you’d never live it down.
With the wound taken care of, the two of you enter Sweet Apple Acres and start picking apples. At first, Derpy busies herself with plucking apples from the trees and placing them in a basket. But before long, she starts sampling her work. Soon, her “picking” turns into snacking, her basket largely forgotten as she hops from tree to tree, munching away. You watch her for a moment, trying not to roll your eyes. It’s already afternoon, and she probably hasn’t had lunch yet. These ponies and their fragile bodies—so dependent on plant-based food to sustain themselves. Changelings, on the other hand, survive on something far superior: love. You feel a faint sense of superiority at the thought.
“Shutter, watch out! I accidentally bumped into this tree besi—” Before she can finish her sentence, a cascade of apples rains down from the tree, landing squarely on your head. You reel from the impact but to your own surprise, you burst into laughter. Derpy stares for a moment before her giggles join yours, her laughter bubbling up like a fresh stream.
However, what happens next quickly kills the laughter. Derpy, in her usual clumsy fashion, kicks a nearby tree too hard, snapping it in half. Before you can react, the trunk falls directly onto your back. Though it doesn’t injure you, it’s enough to make you reevaluate your proximity to this disaster-prone pegasus. As you move to the edge of the orchard, your hoof plunges into empty space, and you find yourself tumbling into a pit. It’s one of Applejack’s traps, cleverly designed to capture Timberwolves. Your startled cries bring Derpy and Applejack running. The two ponies scramble to pull you out, grunting with effort as the trap’s design resists their attempts. When they finally manage to free you, your mane ends up in a complete mess, with broken branches sticking out of it. You have no choice but to take a bath in Applejack’s backyard and tidy up your mane.
As you leave Sweet Apple Acres, Applejack and Apple Bloom apologize profusely for the mishaps.
It’s 3 p.m, and you’ve explored almost every corner of Ponyville. Now, you start wandering around the street. When you first arrived, you thought it was too big, but now you find it almost too small.
"How about this?” Derpy exclaims, “Let's go to the amusement park!"
"No way, absolutely not. That’s a terrible idea. We're too old for that." The mere thought of wasting time at an amusement park during what you consider work hours feels like a grievous dereliction of duty. If you ever caught a drone slacking off like that, you'd sentence them to the Maw of the Abyss without hesitation.
"Pleeeeease! Can you play with me? " Her eyes cross as she tries to make a pleading face, and for a moment they almost align before slipping back to being uneven again. "I spent my entire day off helping you explore Ponyville. Can you accompany me to the amusement park for a little while?"
…
Ponyville has only one amusement park. From afar, you can see a giant Ferris wheel dominating the view, shaped like a peacock with its feathers fanned out in vibrant colors. The roller coaster sprawls across the park like a coiled dragon, taking up most of the space. Even from a distance, you can hear the thunderous roar of the coaster and the screams of ponies on board. For ponies from bustling cities like Las Pegasus, this amusement park would feel unimpressive—its attractions are too sparse, relying heavily on the roller coaster to attract crowds.
I can't believe I agreed to such a stupid idea . You suppress a groan.
There is a long line for the roller coaster, while other rides barely have ponies waiting. Despite the long wait, Derpy insists on starting with the roller coaster—it’s the one ride she’s most excited about.
As you shuffle forward in line, she leans in and says, "Ever since I was little, I dreamed of going to an amusement park. But my parents never let me. They made me spend all my time practicing flying in my spare time, forcing me into lessons and competitions. They said that as a pegasus, being an expert flyer was your best calling card. Crowds would cheer for you from the stands, and you'd become the brightest star in Equestria. They said maybe one day I’d even join the Wonderbolts, earning a chance to meet Princess Celestia."
"Your parents wanted you to be a success. I feel ya. My father was the same." Memories of your father begin to resurface. To make sure you’d become a worthy heir to the throne, he ruled over your upbringing with an iron hoof. Sometimes, his lessons came as harsh punishment. Yet, his love for you runs deep, and you knew it. After every punishment, he would visit your room to talk to you, to explain why he had done what he did. It hurts me more than it does you, he’d say, but it’s for the hive. You must be strong. You must be loyal. You still remember one time you let a filly escape and were punished with three days of starvation to make you understand why you couldn’t do that. From that moment on, you never let any prey escape again.
Finally, it’s your turn. You and Derpy climb into the front row of the roller coaster car, sitting side by side.
"Awesome, the front row is the most exciting! Yay!" She raises her hooves, grinning from ear to ear.
The staff moves down the line, checking each safety harness before starting the ride.
"Three, two, one!"
As the countdown hits zero, the car shoots forward with a jolt that presses you into your seat.
Your heart pounds, your hooves tremble, and a shiver races down your spine. You squeeze your eyes shut as the wind howls in your ears.
Summoning every ounce of your willpower, you force yourself to open your eyes—only to be met with a dizzying blur of sky and ground twisting and flipping in every direction. The car loops over and over, zooming into the clouds and then plummeting back down at a speed that feels impossible. Your mouth opens to command the car to stop, but instead, all that escapes is a scream. Besides, you know the futility of such an order.
The ride finally comes to a halt. You step off the coaster and notice that your mane is a tangled disaster. It must have been the wind, you tell yourself firmly. There’s no way you were scared. Queens don’t get scared.
"That was amazing! If only you could ride this with me every day!" She flutters her wings in excitement but stays grounded—a gesture that you assume is some kind of display of enthusiasm for pegasus.
"I'm never getting on that again, ever!" Despite your firm declaration, you can’t shake the faint thrill from the moment you dared to open your eyes.
With about an hour left before the park closes, the two of you wander aimlessly, pausing now and then as Derpy excitedly points out more rides she wants to try.
You stop at the archery game. Or rather——she stops there, and you reluctantly shuffle to her side.
"Do you want to play this game with me? We can compete against each other!” she leans closer, covering her mouth with a hoof like she’s sharing top-secret information, “Here's a secret—when I was a filly, I won first place in the national archery competition for my age group!"
"Impressive.” you force a smile, though skepticism pricks at the back of your mind, “Uh, I think I’ll just watch. Getting totally crushed by you doesn’t sound like much fun." Something tells you this is the safer option, and for once, your gut doesn’t fail you.
Derpy picks up the bow, drawing the string with a strength that surprises you. She narrows her eyes, aiming with what appears to be perfect focus. With a confident release, the arrow whistles through the air…
…and it veers wildly off course. The arrow misses the target entirely, striking a metal statue in the prize area with a force that slams the metal chunk into the wall. The statue then ricochets back—straight toward your head. Thankfully, you are prepared and dive out of the way just in time. The statue lands with a heavy clang where you’d been standing moments ago.
Realizing what she’s done, Derpy drops the bow in a panic and rushes over to you. "Are you okay, Shutter? I’m so sorry!"
"I'm fine. But if I’d agreed to compete with you and stood closer to the wall, I might not have been so lucky." you sigh, brushing yourself off.
"I'm terribly sorry!" The booth operator hurries over. " We didn't expect a customer to use so much force on the bow and accidentally shoot toward the prize area. Are you hurt, ma’am?"
"I'm fine. Just make sure next time the prizes aren’t so dangerous. Maybe you should switch them out for plushies," you reply.
The booth operator shifts his hooves nervously, "Please, please don’t report us to our manager. It’s tough running a business these days. How about this—as an apology, you can take any prize you want. Anything from the prize area is yours."
"Don’t worry, we share some of the blame. It wasn’t like you could predict this. There’s no need for compensa—" you are cut off mid-sentence.
"What? We can take any prize? That's amazing!” Derpy interrupts, her eyes lighting up as she points excitedly, “I was hoping to win that Twilight Sparkle plushie from the start!"
Hearing this, the operator breathes a sigh of relief as he thought you two planned to take all his prizes. Now that it becomes clear you two have no ill intention, he eagerly hands the stuffed toy to her.
You do your best to avoid looking at the disgusting toy as she slings it over her back.
"How can you still be into plushies? You are not a filly anymore," you ask, unable to hide your disdain.
"Twilight Sparkle is my idol! Plus, I’ve always loved plushies ever since I was little. You probably won’t believe it, but I’ve got tons of them——on my bed, in my closet." she says with a laugh, "But this one, I’m actually going to give to my daughter, Dinky. She’s my most precious treasure, way more important than all my plushies. She also looks up to Twilight Sparkle and says she wants to be as great as her when she grows up. I think if I give her this, she’ll remember her goal every time she sees it and work hard to achieve great things just like Twilight."
"You really are a thoughtful parent."
"I try to be. Work keeps me busy, so I don’t get to spend as much time with her as I’d like. Dinky’s amazing—always so well-behaved and top of her class. Saves me a lot of trouble. And my husband? He’s always tinkering with some high-tech gadgets. I don’t understand half of it, but I support him anyway."
"You’re lucky to have such a happy family." A wave of jealousy rises in your chest. Memories of the hive flood your mind—the power struggles, the looming crisis, the burdens you carry. She doesn’t have to worry about the survival of an entire race… at least for now.
Derpy’s voice pulls you from your thoughts. "By the way, you haven’t eaten much today. How about we stop at food stalls for muffins? I’ve heard the muffins here are amazing. My treat!"
"Uh, no thanks, I’m not hungry. I’ve had such a good time today that I don’t even feel hungry." you try to sound polite while avoiding whatever this “muffin” thing is—it sounds revolting to you.
"Hey, I’ll take two muffins. Shutter, what do you want?" she asks, her cheerfulness undeterred.
"Me? Uh, let me see…” you glance at the menu, scrambling for an answer. “Oh, right, I’ll have a blueberry juice." you figure ordering something will help maintain your cover.
"Coming right up!" the stall owner replies without even looking your way.
Derpy happily digs into her muffin, crumbs speckling her muzzle. You, on the other hoof, cautiously levitate the cup and take a sip of the magenta liquid. To your surprise, it’s… good. Really good. But as you savor the flavor, a nagging thought reminds you: changelings don’t need pony food. It provides no nourishment—only love can sustain you.
After finishing, she waves to the stall owner, " Check, please."
"That'll be 108 bits."
"What? That’s expensive!” she exclaims, rummaging through her bag, “Are you sure you got the price right? Let me see how much I have left."
"Muffins are 26 bits each, and the blueberry juice is 56 bits a glass, miss. There's no mistake," he says coolly as he watches you both like a hawk.
"Darn it, I didn’t bring that much money. Shutter, do you have any?"
"Sorry, I didn’t bring a single bit." Why would you? Pony currency means nothing to you.
Then, you and Derpy bolt out of the place as the stall owner shouts behind your back.
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 caughtFriendship! 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.
