How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bug

>"Dearest Anonymous. You do not know me, and once this letter finds your hand I can assure you that you never will. I have observed your for some time and seen the inexhaustible love your soul carries, as such I give you my first and final daughter, Chrysalia to raise. She will not strain your earnings or your food supplies, for all she requires to live is your affection. Give her your love, and let her live free of my wrongdoings and I hope she will one day be the queen I couldn't."

>No signature, no return address.
>Just a single sheet of aged yellowing parchment with writing on it you now hold in your hands.
>And the small black, bug winged filly who had knocked on your door clutching it in her mouth, now staring up at you with her green eyes.
>"Papa?"
>She coos as you return her gaze.
>You're unsure of how to respond.
>After all, it's not everyday a small child shows up on your doorstep assuming you'll be it's new father.
"Let's not jump to any conclusions here."
>You say as you fold the letter and put it safely in your pocket.
"I'm not entirely sure what's going on."
>The strange filly cocks her head.
>"No... Papa?"
>You can see the beginnings of tears form in the corners of her eyes.
>DANGER WILL ROBINSON, DANGER!"
>Quickly you do your best to take back and clarify what you said.
"No, no! I'm just saying that I need to... Uhh adjust! To this whole thing. Yeah."
>The growing tears begin to recede.
>Crisis averted.
>"Yay! Papa!"
>The diminutive bugpone bounces in places as her wings flutter.
>Hi I'm Wilford Brimley and I'd like to talk about diabeetus.
>Well, it's beyond your control it seems.
>You're a father, or at best a foster dad.
>As much as you'd normally enjoy the concept of being a dad, this certainly wasn't a /normal/ set of circumstances.
>You have to find someone more suited for the whole parenthood thing, or at least get some advice on how to take of her until you do.
>And you know just the pony to help

>One short stroll along the outskirts of Ponyville later and you have arrived at the holy grail of family raising advice.
>Sweet Apple Acres.
>If Granny Smith and Applejack can't help you, no one can.
>As you trod the dirt path to the farmhouse proper your new companion follows closely, babbling about "love" and "food."
>It's adorable, but your mind is more focused on the task at hand.
>Convincing the Apples to take her off your hands.
>You arrive at the door only to stop and turn to your "daughter".
"Listen Chryssy, I've got to talk to friend, so just be quiet until I introduce you okay?"
>Her big green eyes look up at you as she nods.
>"Okay papa!"
>Shit! Where's an insulin shot when you need it?
>You turn your attention back to the door and give it the time honoured knock of all fine, upstanding gentlemen.
*Shave and a haircut*
>Wait for it.
*Two bits*
>A moment later the door swings open to reveal an orange pony in a broad Stetson.
>"Howdy Ahnon, what can ah do for ya?"
"Applejack, I need to talk to you and Granny, like now!"
>The farm pony nods.
>"Sure thing Sugarcube. What's got you all worked up?"
>She says as she steps backwards and motions for you to [spoiler]come inside[/spoiler].
>Stepping to the side as you enter you gesture to the smiling child previously hidden behind you.
"She does."

>Applejack's eyes widen in shock as Chrysalia flutters her tiny wings ineffectually.
>"Hewwo" beams the chitinous child.
>"Non?"
"What?"
>"Why in Celestia's name is there a changelin' in mah foyer?"
"A changeling?"
>You give AJ an incredulous look.
"The hell is changeling?"
>Applejack facehoofs,
>"She is."
>Thanks for the clarification Fruitbutt, really helpful.
"Seriously, AJ, you know i'm still not privy to all the creatures in Equestria."
>You say as you pick up the cheese-legged bundle of joy.
>"Am changewing!"
>Babbles the bug baby.
>(Try saying that three times fast.)
>The orange mare rolls her eyes.
>"Ah know... But you gotta understand Non. Changelin's ain't exactly seen inna friendly light by most folk."
"I'm guessing there's a good a reason for that."
>"An Ah'm hopin' there's a good reason for you havin' one."
"As a matter of fact."
>You say while reaching for your pocket.
>"Her mother left this with her."
>Handing the note to AJ you readjust your hold of the bugpone.
>The only response the infant changeling gives is a soft coo as she buries her face in your chest.
>Adorable.
>Applejack meanwhile pours over the parchment, her brow furrowed.
"Something wrong?"
>"Ahnon... Ah think I know who the mother is."

"Wait wait wait.... Queen who?"
>"Chrysalis."
>Reiterates Applejack.
"So you're telling me that the queen of the changelings somehow decided to plop her kid down on my doorstep."
>Applejack shrugs.
>"S'pose so.
>Your brain takes a moment to process this.
>.
>..
>...
>Error: The referenced task at memory 0003XXoi1044.exe could not be accessed. Press any key to continue.
>You look down at the filly resting snugly in your arms.
>Sleeping with her face pressed into your chest.
>Never thought you'd be in the presence of royalty.
>Twiggy Piggy doesn't count.
>"Look Ahnon, Ah'm all for you takin' care of her an' all, but Ah can tell you right now that folks in town won't take kindly to her bein' around."
"That's just it though AJ. I don't think I'm cut out for this."
>You sigh.
"I'm not dad material Applejack, I came here to see if you could take her in."
>Applejack raises an eyebrow.
>"Non, Ah'm flattered, but with th' way ponies think of changelin's I just couldn't."
>You nod in defeat.
"Wouldn't be good for your family or your business if word got out, right?"
>Applejack sighs.
>"Fraid so Non. Ah'm not rightly sure Granny would be willin' to take her in in th' first place."
"I get it."
>Your Fruit-flanked friend places a hoof on your arm.
>"But if you need any advice, Ah'll be happy to oblige! Ah wouldn't feel right lettin' you go into parenthood without a clue."
>A small smile creeps onto your face.
"Thanks AJ. Means a lot."
>"Anytime Non. Say, if'n you need to learn 'bout changelin's you could always go see Twilight. She'll have the books you need."
>You nod as you adjust your hold on Chrysalia.
"Will do, and AJ?"
>"Yeah?"
"Can you keep this between you and me for now? I don't need any attention being drawn to her if ponies aren't too keen on her kind.
>With a genuine smile and a nod Applejack responds.
>"Sure thing Non, Ah won't tell nopony."
"Thanks."
>Turning you head for the door and back towards your small house on Ponyville's outskirts.
>Well, there's no two ways about it now.
>You're a father.

>You are Queen Chrysalis.
>Regent of the changelings, mother of the hive.
>And you can barely stand.
>It took you hours to make it to Ponyville, and just as many to make your way back to the hive.
>Your wings ache, your muscles burn, and your stomach growls for sustenance.
>Sustenance it will not receive.
>There would be no point in feeding yourself now, good love wasted on one not long for the world.
>What little love is left stored within the larder of your hive is best left for the few remaining members of your brood.
>To remain sealed and inert for the day your daughter breathes new life into the hive.
>To wake your surviving children from their slumber when their sister returns to them.
>No, to waste such good food on you would be in poor judgement.
>Like your attack on Canterlot that left your hive in this position.
>So instead you force your tired muscles to carry you to towards your chamber.
>With every step you can feel the fluids that actuate your hydraulic musculature strain against the worn tissue.
>You can hear the chitin of your hooves scuff and scrape, unable to take the proper regal steps you once did.
>Less of a walk, more of a slow, agonized shamble to your mausoleum.
"How fitting."
>Wheezes your harmonized voice.
"I doom my children to march into defeat. Now I take my steps into oblivion."
>You approach the empty doorway to your bedchamber.
>Inside burns a solitary candle
[spoiler]>I'm a blackbug, I'm a blackbug.[/spoiler]
>Stepping inside you muster a mouthful of translucent green slime.
>With more effort than it should take, you salivate the ichor along the edge of the room's entrance.
>The slime begins to expand and seal the doorway. Locking you inside your room, like mother had done almost a millennium ago.
>And to think, you were young for a queen.
>Only 1300.
>Your mother didn't pass on until she was well into her 3000's.
>But, unlike alicorns, the mighty Changeling Queens were not immune to the weakness of flesh.
>And now here you are.
>As much a victim of starvation as you are a victim of your own drive to feed your children.
>Would things be different it you waited out the famine that plagued you?
>Could you have succeeded in your invasion if you hadn't been so willing to mock Twilight?
>Or should you have tried diplomacy?
>Simply asking Celestia for help.
>But your worry, and your pride got the better of you
>"Why run the risk of waiting? More could starve!
>"Why bother asking, they'd only see us as monsters."
>Three years since that day.
>The tightening of security
>Guards and townsfolk going on witch hunts to find your children in the field, stopping you from collecting what little sustenance you could.
>Three years of worsening hunger that starved your hive.
>Three years that have all but destroyed the once mighty Changeling kingdom.
>You had made a terrible decision that day.
>But today...
>Today you made a choice that would make up for your failings.
>You could feel it in your very soul.
>Anonymous was a kind man, an no stranger to being an outcast from pony society.
>You couldn't find a better creature to raise your lone daughter.
>Even if he didn't know it.
>You climb into your bed.
"I did not deserve to be queen."
>You muse to yourself
"But that will be rectified soon."
>Pulling the blankets over your rough faded chitin you lay on your back.
"She is my hope for our kind."
>With your last bit of strength you reach out through telepathic gestalt that connects all changelings.
>A much emptier place than it ever should be.
>Focusing on the single active voice you push your thoughts forward.
"I love you, Chrysalia. I only wish I could be there to see you become the queen I never was."
>"Mama?"
>Squeaks your daughters voice.
>But you give no response.
>Your muscles don't move.
>Your heart doesn't beat.
>Not a single sound rings out.
>The hive is silent.
>The Queen of the Changelings has passed.

>You are Anonymous.
>Equestria's resident human, and adoptive father to an adorable changeling filly.
>Your little bundle of chitinous joy having gone to sleep a few hours ago, you took the opportunity to see what books twilight had on changelings.
>After all knowing is half the battle.
>The other half is red and blue lasers.
>Bookhorse was rather suspicious of your sudden interest in changelings and their history, but you covered it up with some bullshit about preparing for their return.
>Worst Princess seemed satisfied with that answer.
>As such you are now relaxing on your couch as you pour over a tome related to the known history of changelings in Equestria.
>Interesting stuff.
>Though terribly incomplete.
>Interactions between ponies and their carapaced counterparts were rare as it seemed.
>Or at least interactions where the changeling wasn't living up to its name.
>Turning page after page you get a glimpse into the withdrawn, secluded society that had thrust Chrysalia upon you.
>Fascinating.
>Just as you go to turn the page a shiver runs down your spine.
>As if something in the world had been upset and put out of order.
>And then you hear the crying start.
>Clambering off the couch you hustle to your bedroom to find Chryssy sobbing and shaking.
>Gently taking a seat next to her you whisper.
"Did you have a bad dream?"
>Chrysalia shakes her head.
>"Mama gone."
>Considering the circumstances you were expecting her to make that observation hours ago.
>Not wanting to further her sadness you pick her up and hold her close.
"Hey, it's okay."
>You say softly.
>"She'll be back."
>Fat chance, but calming a crying child take priority over being truthful.
>Chrysalia's watery emerald eyes stare up at you as she sniffles and shakes her head.
"No, can't hear mama."
>Another heaving sob.
"Mama gone."
>Her tears pour forth like Niagara Falls as she buries her face back into your shirt.
>Each breath in she takes is punctuated by staccato heaves.
>Each breath out is a series of sobs and wails.
>You have no words you can say.
>Nothing in your vocabulary could possibly console her.
>So instead you resolve to hold her.
>Hold her tight to your chest as you run a hand through her membranous mane and softly whisper.
"Shhhhhh."
>Again.
"Shhhh.
>And again.
"Shhh."
>Until she has no more tears to cry.

>You wake up bleary-eyed and slightly confused.
>Looking to the window you see that Luna's moon is beginning to fade from the sky.
>Looking at yourself you see a certain filly snuggled up in the crook of your arm.
>You had half expected today to have been a dream, a twisted fantasy cooked up in by your unconscious mind.
>However, in this moment you were glad to know that it was true.
>Having a child sleep soundly in your arms is truly a heart melting experience.
>As pictureesque as the current arrangement was however,  you were hungry and you have the sneaking suspicion that Chryssy hadn't eaten since before she arrived.
>With all the speed of a quadriplegic tortoise you gently extract yourself from the bed, making sure not to wake the sleeping lovebug.
>Solid Snake ain't got shit on you.
>Now comes the difficult part.
>Making food for your guest.
>Your kitchenette is by no means a marvel of culinary engineering, but it was certainly adequate for what your needs were.
>By and large the biggest issue to overcome is figuring out what bug ponies eat.
>Pancakes.
>What kind of poor, creature doesn't enjoy the magic of pancakes?

>Swinging open the door to your pantry, you glance around at the myriad of foodstuffs contained within, searching for the holy grail of breakfast prep items.
>Interestingly enough, most equestrian packaged foods were simply regular earth foods with ridiculous horse puns or references worked into them.
>Weird.
>Fumbling around with your boxes of Hay-ney Nut Cheerios, and Frosted Flakes, (Dany the Draft horse says "They're Grrrr-hay-te!") you find the half empty carton of Aunt Neighmima pancake mix.
>The rather offensive Zebra stereotype on the package gives you a slight chuckle.
>Retrieving the rest of your required ingredients from the icebox you begin the sacred ritual of making pancakes.
>Pancake mix
>Milk
>Eggs
>Chocolate chips, because you're a classy guy.
>Give it a mix
>Onii-chan, my whisk is moving on its own!
>As you stir the batter with all the finesse of Gordon Ramsay and Howtobasic's bastard lovechild the sound of hooves on wood flooring goes unnoticed.
>Just as you go to grease the skillet you feel a weight on your right foot.
>Looking down reveals Chrysalia sitting on it, her big green eyes shining brightly as she stares up at you.
>"Morning Papa!"
>She says with a hint of a yawn in her voice.
>With a smile you bend down to pay her head.
"Morning sweetie."
>You say.
"Are you feeling better?"
>Chryssy nods.
>"What Papa doing?"
>She asks sweetly.
"Making breakfast, do you like pancakes?"
>"Pancaek?"
"Pancakes."
>From the look on her face you deduce that she's never had a pancake before.
>That's a tragedy that you simply must fix.
"Buckle up sweetie!"
>You declare as you pour the first dollop of pancake batter onto the skillet.
"I'm about to take you to [spoiler]FlavourTown!"[/spoiler]

>Before you stands a marvel of culinary evolution.
>From it's humble beginnings as the Pannenkoek, to it's days as the Flapjack, and it's time as the hotcake, everything had led up to this.
>Chocolate Chip Pancakes.
>24 of them
>Stacked haphazardly on a large serving plate.
>Butter, icing sugar, and a large bottle of Caneighdian maple syrup solemnly stand in line beside the gargantuan stack of buttermilk beauty like the vanguards of flavour.
>At the end of the table sits a bewildered Chrysalia, looking on at the divine delicacies with equal parts confusion and awe.
>With great pride you skewer two of the piping hot discs with a fork and gently transfer them to Chryssy's plate.
>Not giving her any time to interrupt the ritual, you expertly dollop a scoop of butter on top of them and follow up with a spiral of syrup.
>It may be simple, but if it ain't broke, don't fix it.
>Fieri-senpai, I hope you're proud.
>Placing the syrup bottle back on the table you smile down at the adorable changeling child.
"Well, give 'em a try!"
>Chrysalia stares at her plate, and then at you.
"Go on."
>And still she merely stares.
"Chryssy..."
>"Yes papa?"
"Are you going to eat?"
>You ask uncertainly.
>"Eat what?"
"The pancakes."
>Chrysalia cocks her head and gives you a look of confusion.
>"But those not food."
>She states flatly.
>"Siwwy Papa."
>She giggles.
>Not food?
>NOT FOOD?!
>How could she say such a thing?
>Maybe changeling cuisine is different?
>That's got to be it, you'll just have to show her that pancakes are in fact edible.
>Quickly you prepare your own plate of pancakes much the same as you did Chryssy's, albeit with three times as many.
>Hey, you're a dad now, you've gotta eat to stay strong.
"Watch me sweetie, see?"
>You say as you cut yourself a forkful of the fluffy goodness and place it in your mouth.
>Sweet baby Celestia that's good pancake!
>Swallowing the heavenly morsel you look over at your adoptive daughter expectantly.
"Go ahead! You try them now."
>Chryssy picks one of her pancakes up clumsily with her perforated hoof and brings it to her mouth.
>With a moments hesitation she sinks her fangs into it.
>She doesn't bite a piece off.
>She doesn't chew.
>Instead she simply suckles it.
>You run your hand down your face in exasperation.
"Chryssy, you're supposed to..."
>Your train of thought is interrupted by a bright green glow emanating from the pancake held in your daughter's maw.
>It glows bright for a second or so before the light fades, and where there was once a chocolate chip pancake, there is now a thin grey wafer with dark black spots.
>Chrysalia spits out the not-pancake, which promptly disintegrates into a fine grey dust that scatters over the tablecloth.
>"Pancake good!"
>She declares.
"What?"
>Is all you can say.

>You continue to stare at Chryssy in disbelief.
>Chryssy, undaunted by your piercing gaze picks up the second pancake from her plate and repeats the process.
>Bite.
>Glow.
>Disintegration.
>Now, you've seen some weird shit since you arrived in Equestria, but this right here just takes the cake.
>Before you can open your mouth to speak out about her "unique" manner of eating she pushes her plate forwards.
>"More pancaek Papa?"
>Something about her inability to properly pronounce "pancake" makes you smile.
>Ignoring your desire to understand her eating methods for the moment you prepare her another plateful of syrup-soaked goodness, which she accepts happily.
>"Thank you papa!"
>Chrysalia says with a heart melting smile.
"You're welcome sweetie."
>You say as you tuck into your own stack of sugary deliciousness.
>"More pwease."
>Or at least try to...

>24 pancakes.
>Gone.
>In under 12 minutes.
>This would be fine if, there had been more than two people at the table.
>And if you had been able to eat more than 6 of them.
>Sweet Jesus, this kid ate 18 smegging pancakes by herself.
>Ate is the wrong word.
>It was more like she atomized them.
>Still, looks like you'll be stocking up of pancake mix next time you go to the market.
>With a sigh you deposit the sticky, syrup covered plates in the sink and return the condiments to their rightful places.
>Same as any other morning really.
>Now's probably a good time to read some more of those changeling books you got from Twilight.
>"Papa!"
>Never mind.
>You've got dad stuff to attend to.
>Looking down at the bugpone child you smile.
"What's up Chrys?"
>Stiww hungry papa."
>...
>What?
"What?"
>You say out loud.
>"Stiww hungry!"
>She reiterates.
>Chigga pls.
>This kid "ate" 18 pancakes and is still hungry.
>Fuck the caterpillar, scholastic outta start publishing 'The Very Hungry Changeling.'
>In all honesty you don't have the slightest clue what else to feed her.
>With no other options, you ask her.
"Well, what would you like?"
>"Wuv!"
>You furrow your brow.
>Wuv isn't a food you've heard of before.
>Probably some sort of changeling delicacy.
"I don't think we have any 'wuv', is there anything else you'd like?"
>Chryssy stares at you with confusion.
>"No papa, Wuv!"
>As much as she seems to think that made her request any clearer, it really didn't help at all.
"I don't understand, what is Wuv?"
>[spoiler]Baby don't hurt me[/spoiler]
>"Wuv!"
>She shouts with exasperation.
>"Wuv mama, wuv papa, I wuv you!"
>Now you get it, she means LOVE.
>Not too bright this morning, are you?
>Wait a second...
>She wants... Love, because she's hungry?
>That makes absolutely no sense at all.
>Or does it?
>Thinking back to the letter she arrived with, you remember one specific line.
>"She will not strain your earnings or your food supplies, for all she requires to live is your affection."
>Were you expected to take that literally?
>After seeing how she ate those pancakes it sure seems like it.
>Actually, breakfast make for sense thinking about it now.
>She was sucking the love you put into making them out.
>Like an adorable little love vampire.
>Or a mosquito.
>Yeah, you're definitely going to read that those books now.
>However there's a much more pressing matter to attend to.
>Chryssy needs love.
>Swiftly you scoop her up in your arms and hold her in a soft hug.
"Uhh, eat up?"
>The future queen says nothing as she snuggles her face into your chest.
>After a few seconds her horn glows a faint green and you can feel a warm tingling sensation in your chest.
>Expecting to be here a while you take seat at the table, Chrys still in your arms, cooing softly as she feeds.
>As you let her eat her fill a warmth spreads through your body.
>It's a pleasant feeling.

>After several more minutes you look down at the black and green changeling in nestled against your chest, as a huge smile creeps across your face as a realization hits you like a gold brick wrapped in lemon slices.

>You really are a dad now, and you couldn't be happier.