Velveteen Changeling

by David Silver

Rating: everyone
Tags: Changelings, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Adventure, Slice of Life, Human
Length: 2122

Being real isn't something you have. It's something given, by being loved. The idea wasn't an alien one to the changeling, but it making something real? Perhaps it was a way for him to recover his freedom.

Being real isn't something you have. It's something given, by being loved. The idea wasn't an alien one to the changeling, but it making something real? Perhaps it was a way for him to recover his freedom.

Done for a Patron.

Published 2025-01-14 19:20:02 UTC
Last updated 2025-01-14 19:20:02 UTC

Chapter 1

He woke with a start, or he tried to start. He had been hunting for love, as his queen had commanded, but the next morning found him entirely still. He felt soft all over. He could still look around, spotting he was in a bin with cute little plush figures of ponies.

He couldn't understand why he was in there with those great big toys of ponies. When a hand reached down and gently picked him up, he realized he was one of those too. A doll. The lady said nice things to what he guessed was a shopkeeper before placing him in a bag to carry with her.

He didn't like that one bit. It was dark in there. He could hear the lady and another voice. They spoke of things that weren't important. He was more worried about what had become of him, and how to change back into a changeling. A new hand reached into the darkness and grabbed him. Drawn into the light, he could see the smiling face of a young boy.

He looked at the boy and felt a warmth inside him. A sort of tingling sensation that he hadn't felt in a long while. It was the feeling a changeling got when a pony was feeling love. The boy drew him close in a great hug, squishing his plush interior. It didn't hurt. No, it felt a little nice, to be held like that. The boy carried him over to his other toys and placed him down among some wind-up toys. "You wait there."

With that, the boy fled the room with a laugh, clearly determined to do whatever little boys did. He looked among the toys, trying to find his voice. Instead, all he could produce was a soft squeak that was more akin to a dog's chew toy being stepped upon. He looked around the room, wondering if any of the other toys would have a solution to his predicament.

One of the mechanical soldiers turned to him. "Look at this." He pointed with precise, but rigid motions, other soldiers gathering around. "He went and got a new toy, and they aren't even mobile." He looked to the other soldiers. "Won't do, just won't do at all. The boy prefers animated toys!"

He saluted, as if to show off that he could perform that motion as his key spun in his back. The others saluted with him. "We should do something about it."

The changeling didn't know what to say. He had no words and could do nothing but watch. The mechanical soldiers started to push him towards a hobby horse, depositing him there on its rocking leg. "There we are, out of the way. He'll be happier not being distracted by it." The soldiers cheered as they returned to their assigned post.

He didn't know why these little soldiers were so cruel. They were toys, weren't they? "Don't mind them." The horse toy he was on the long rocking leg of was speaking. "They think you aren't real because you don't move." The horse rocked slowly, taking the changeling along with the gentle motions. "Being real isn't about moving. It isn't something you have."

The changeling took the chance to examine the nicer toy. They weren't covered in hair, as one would expect of an equine, instead skin, with little rips and tears that showed a long life of use. "He loves me." The rocking was so very soothing in its slow metronome. "For years. With luck, he may love you too, more than those other toys. They break so quickly, and then they are gone. We, little new toy, are made of tougher things."

Sclerite, yes. Why had it taken so long for him to remember his own name? Proud to have it back, Sclerite examined the toy, vision shifting towards its flank, where a cutie mark rested. A toy with a cutie mark? Well, some of the plushes he had seen had them too, he distantly remembered.

"He's been real to me for years. I'm real to him. You could be, too." He didn't understand what it meant to be real. He was real, wasn't he? "When your fuzz gets thin, and some of your limbs are bent a little funny. When you've seen him at his highest and lowest, and love him all the same, then you'll know it."

It didn't make sense. He was a changeling. He was going to become real. If the boy loved him, he would be able to feel that, and he'd be back to normal. He nodded, internally at least. The logic made sense to Sclerite. He just had to get enough love to turn back into a changeling, and playing the part of a doll would get that done.

He heard footsteps approaching. "He's coming. Be kind to him, and love him when he needs it the most."

The boy rushed into view, looking around. He ignored the all the other toys in favor of rushing to his new changeling plush. He grabbed Sclerite up and hugged them tight. "Thanks for waiting for me."

Sclerite didn't see that he had many other options, but he enjoyed being held and that warm trickle of boyish love. He was happy as he was carried from the room.

The skinhorse seemed happy in their placid way. Unlike the mechanical toys that grumbled that he had been picked up and played with despite their clearly superior ways of being interacted with.

The boy placed his new friend on his bed instead. "You'll keep me company whenever I go to sleep." He smooched Sclerite right between his eyes. "You'll keep the bad dreams away."

Sclerite wasn't sure he had any ability to do that, but he made a silent promise to try his best. He would remain plush and huggable all through the night, and that would scare the bad dreams away, he hoped.

He experienced the first night of being a boy's plushie. He was hugged softly at times, crushingly in others. He was rolled over onto and almost pushed from the bed entirely, but mostly he was just held in the boy's sleeping hands. When the morning came, the boy awoke with a laugh. "You did it!"

Sclerite wasn't sure what he did, exactly.

"You kept the bad dreams away." He tucked Sclerite carefully under the covers with his head poking free. "Thank you so much! I knew you could do it."

Though the boy had proclaimed Sclerite to be a night guardian, he was taken outside. The soft wind and warm sun were a nice change of pace as a picnic appeared around him. The boy served as the post and seemed to act as though Sclerite were alive and very real. He was fed things(pressing the food to his snout a moment with the boy making eating noises) and talked to and the boy was clearly enjoying the time. "I love you."

Sclerite didn't know what the feeling he got from that was. He felt warm. His heart skipped a beat, as if it were about to burst. It was a strange thing. He wasn't even sure he had a heart in that moment, but the tickle of love that the boy gave him made him feel alive. He was getting the love he needed. He would be a changeling again soon enough.

The boy tucked Sclerite under his arm, carrying the changeling plush inside to tuck him into bed again. That became a pattern for a time, pulled out to play a game, put away to be ready to watch over sleeping hours, and doing just that when the boy retired for the evening. Over the weeks, his body got less and less rigid. He was more and more like a plush should be, and the boy hugged him all the more fiercely for that.

Things took a turn when the boy gave a weak noise one morning instead of springing to his feet as normal. "I don't feel well." He reached over to pull Sclerite into a hug. "I don't feel well at all." He sniffled a little. "But you're still here."

Sclerite couldn't reply, but he wanted to know desperately what was wrong. Could he help? He could just be the boy's guardian.

The mother came in, gasped, and fled, only to return with another man with an officious air. He poked and prodded at the boy, and Sclerite was held tight the whole while. The man spoke with the boy's parents, leaving him to his rest. When they returned, the mother looked to the boy's room and saw his changeling plush. "I'm glad that's been good to you." She couldn't ignore that he still clung to it despite the time that had passed. "You rest up. Scarlet fever's no joke."

Sclerite had never heard of that. What was Scarlet fever, and would it be okay? The boy's parents were so concerned, and he was getting worried.

He had a long time to think. The boy was warmer than he usually was, and he wasn't getting out of bed nearly as much as he used to. Sclerite could only wish the best for his friend, supporting as best as an unmoving doll could hope to do. The mother came in and took the boy's things one by one from his room. "They need to be cleaned." She was looking at them, as if trying to decide which to take. "I'm glad you've taken so well to your changeling. We'll save that for when you feel better."

And that day did come, the boy sitting up with his cheeks no longer aflame. "Momma! I feel better!"

She rushed to him to give him a hug. "I'm so happy to hear that." She smiled. "Now, get your things ready for school, you've missed quite a lot."

The boy's things, including Sclerite, were returned to his room. He couldn't hear it, but the doctor gave firm orders. "Burn it. Everything he's touched on, slept in, all of it. Get new things, or the fever will come back, for him, or the rest of you. No exceptions."

They were not happy about it, but they did as they were told. The mother gathered Sclerite and everything else she hadn't already gathered. "Sorry, but you all have to go. We need him to not get sick again." She stuffed it all in a bag and hefted it up. She brought him outside towards a great roaring fire. She looked to the bag in her hands and frowned. "I'll miss them, but it's for his safety. We can get him new things to love." She dropped the bag next to a trashcan, to be thrown in the flames later.

With the drop, the bag bounced with just enough force to send Sclerite tumbling to the ground limply. When the father came to gather the bag and get it to the fire, he didn't even notice the changeling sitting there, abandoned. It was a long time until Sclerite noticed a presence. "You've been through a lot." A changeling descended to land in front of Sclerite, but they were colorful, like a rainbow. "But you've learned to love, and were loved in kind. You deserve to go home, with others like you."

The Rainbow Changeling reached down and tapped his forehead. Sclerite felt his body change, his legs growing stronger, his wings more powerful, and his voice returning in a soft gasp of breath. Color rushed through him as he became a reformed changeling. "Who are you?" were the first words out of his mouth as his wings buzzed.

"I'm Thorax, king of good changelings, like you. You've learned a lot. Go on, now, and share that love with your fellow changelings." Sclerite wasn't sure how to process that, but he was happy to be alive. They met, hoof to hoof, and lifted into the air on their fluttering wings. "This way." He led the way, and Sclerite was happy to have his wings again. He'd been so worried he would never be able to feel the wind on his antennae or the air flowing over his wings.

He returned home with Thorax to a new hive, full of colorful changelings. Most hadn't been hugged by children to reform, but Sclerite felt ready to tell them all about it.

Author's Note

The Velveteen Rabbit, as done by a changeling. I do hope you enjoyed this remixing of a classic children's tale.

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