Anon the Historian (AiE; Changelings; Short Story)

>Be captive Anon
>When you arrived in what you now know is Equestria, Chrysalis captured you
>She claimed you would be a new source of love for her hive
>But changeling magic doesn't really work on you very well, so like any good Queen who's made a mistake, she threw you in a dungeon and hoped everyone would forget about you.
>You eventually became friendly with your guards
>In an attempt to scare them into letting you go, you told them about Earth and humans, and the great armies that conquered land, sea, and air.
>You described in vibrant detail the warships, fighter planes, explosions, anything you could think of
>While the changelings didn't grasp you were trying to intimidate them, they loved listening
>Gradually the two guards became four, then eight, then before you knew it there were at least three dozen drones in a semi-circle around your cell door
>Storytime with Anon became a regular thing, and more and more of them squeezed into that narrow cellblock to listen
>You tried a different tactic, shifting from tales of warfare and machinery to stories of great leaders fighting for freedom and independence
>Perhaps you could inspire a few usurpers, maybe enough for one of them to let you go?
>Again, no such luck, they merely listened with bright blue eyes and wide smiles
>Whatever control Chrysalis has over her brood seems absolute
>The only saving grace was your stories had become so popular that Chrysalis herself paid you a visit
>While she mocked your pathetic attempts to scare or con your way out of jail, she admitted since you began telling stories of human's colorful past her ilk had been working and training much harder.
>So while she wouldn't be releasing you, she refurbished one of the larger caverns and turned it into a small amphitheater.
>You were to continue to tell your stories, in exchange you would be given a better cell
>So you agreed, not that you had much say in the matter, and you were moved there
>She hadn't lied, what you had now could almost qualify as a studio apartment
>An actual bed, a small desk with parchment for you to take notes, even a table and chairs to have meals.
>If only it had windows
>The only door you were allowed lead to the amphitheater, where you were expected to tell stories of humanity's history once a day.
>You had to admit, when you exited your room and saw the entire cavern packed to the brim with excited changelings, you were a bit flattered.
>Even the floors and ceilings were littered with smiling bugponies, filling in any empty space they could find
>They were buzzing and chirping among themselves, eager to hear whatever it is you wished to tell them
>As you approached the podium, the entire room fell silent
>They collectively leaned forward as you tapped the gnarled wood of the stand, thinking aloud what period you should speak of today.
>Resigned to your fate that you weren't going anywhere, and nothing you told the bugs would convince them to think for themselves, you decided you could flesh things out more.
>Not to mention embellish a bit to make things interesting for yourself
>So you begin to tell the half-true, half mixed with mythology, story of the human vikings
>It helped their world naturally had magic in it, so speaking of Thor as if he lived and truly commanded the powers of lightning and thunder was a lot more believable.
>They ate it up
>So much so that the next day the guards at the theater entrance had to work harder to keep more changelings out than keeping you in.
>The day after that, two overseers complained that they couldn't get anything done with you stealing their workers, so you had to schedule a second story telling
>You even found yourself going the extra mile, writing down outlines in the evening so you rambled less.
>This continued on for a month, and you noticed the more you told these tales, the better the food became
>You couldn't help but feel something else was going on, but this was your world for the time being.
>Dreams of escaping faded into fantasies of the next day's lecture, you feeling a sense of importance the real world never offered you.
>One afternoon, right when you were planning to tell the little drones the story of Hercules, you found the entire hall deserted
>This was a first, not once had you stepped from your room and seen anything but a literal swarm of eager bugs
>Even the guard at the theater entrance was gone
>As silly as it sounded, you felt a little hurt
>Where did they all go?
>They were practically begging for more last night ..
>With a small sigh you retreated to your room
>A few hours passed when the door creaked opened
>It was Chrysalis
>While you still had some reservations about your captor, you straightened up and faced her
>She wore an expression of stone, and you couldn't help but notice a few dents and cracks in her usually spotless chitin
>"Anonymous"
>She said when she reached you, her horn barely reaching above your neck
>Even so, you were slightly intimidated by her
>Which made it that much more preposterous when she pulled you into a rough hug
>You swallowed, arms still at your side, not sure if you should push her away or hug her back
>So you stood at attention, allowing the changeling queen to do as she wished.
>"We did it."
>We did?
>"My swarm seized the east coast last night. Manehattan, Baltimare, Vanhoover...all under our control!"
>Her grip tightened and she laid her head on your chest, eyes closed
>"I shall never admit this to them, but it was you. You inspired them. Your tales of heroism and valor, they cried names of your people's heroes as they fought with such....such passion! I have never seen it before!"
>With a final squeeze, she released you and took a step back
>Her green eyes shined and she looked up towards you
>This was the first time she ever lifted her head, rather than forcing you to your knees
>Her smile was also different...genuine you might say.
>"Pack your belongings. There is a theater in Manehattan where your seminars shall resume. We have outgrown this cave."
>You nod, remarking you had very little to pack and can leave whenever she's ready.
>"Good. I assume at this juncture chains and bindings will not be necessary?"
>You ask if she's worried you'll escape
>She scoffed and shook her head
>"Anonymous, the door to your lecture hall has never been locked since you moved there. You could have escaped at any time. You forget, I am a changeling queen. I can taste how much you love this. Love my children's astonished faces as you spin tales of your wondrous people.  Love being the center of attention."
>She winked and licked her lips
>You felt as if you should be angry or maybe even try to make a break for it
>But she was right, and you knew it
>You stopped being a prisoner long ago
>"Come then, Anon. We must prepare. The coast was easy, but Canterlot will not fall to a surprise attack. The guard is on high alert and Shining Armor has erected that blasted shield of his. I do hope humans have stories of breaching impenetrable fortresses."
>You collect what little things you have, a few trinkets the changelings had given you throughout your time there
>Mostly items you would have considered junk in the past, but the little guys tried
>A few showed some talent, some drew pictures, others carved little statues for you
>They all would come with you to the next place.
>As you reach the last trinket, you pause
>Its a small woodcarving of a horse, or a pony possibly.
>With a grin, you tell Chrysalis you knew the perfect story