Chapter Text
It was an unusually cold night just outside the village of Dinsmoor.
Rain was on the way. Alfred could sense the tension brewing in the thick, heavy clouds that hung over the forest and obscured the rising moon. How he knew the rain was coming and the moon was rising, he had no idea. It was like he could smell nature at work. The air was full of a rich, earthy scent that filled his body with energy and made his long ears twitch in the wind. He swung his legs on his stump and hummed a little tune about autumn and how much joy it brought him to see the leaves fall and feel the rain come down cold on his skin.
Then he remembered.
He bent himself back over the stump and marveled at the rough feeling of bark on his back. Bony hands traced over a sunken, papery chest and the ridges of ribs so severe he could fit his fingers in the dips. Everywhere, his skin was grayish-white like a winter morning's fog. His hair was the color of fresh snow, and the claws he had for fingernails were all silvery. He knew he had a few freckles as well — tiny, sparkling spots of periwinkle upon the hollow features of his face. And on the bridge of his nose was that star-shaped birthmark, a blemish which was so perfect as to be alien, even to its owner.
Knifelike ears twitched again. The rain was growing nearer. Shivering, Alfred sat back up and clutched his shoulders. He felt like an alien. In the past hour, he'd seen and heard and touched the world with a fantastic new sensitivity. Every color was vibrant and shining. Every noise was amplified and fine-tuned to fit its own unique timbre. Nature spoke a language, and he was meant to understand it.
This shape was, anyway. Not the shape he'd worn for so many years and lost less than an hour ago — the one which was strong and healthy and full. He placed his hands on his stomach and whimpered at how empty it felt. All this power, this magic inside him, and his body was cursed to be shriveled and ugly in return. Changing into a beautiful being had only made him forget for so long.
An ear twitched. Hoofsteps were quickly approaching. Alfred raised his head and took in the sight of his twin brother trotting toward him. No, his brother by heart. His adoptive brother. Matthew the Homoalces. On four furry muscular legs he trotted forth, humanlike torso covered partially by a bearskin vest and neck wrapped up in a knitted scarf. No great paddles graced his head yet, but by sheer size alone, he was as intimidating as his father, the biggest bull in the village. At least, he appeared that way to Alfred, now that Alfred was so small.
Matthew stopped twenty feet from the stump where Alfred sat and took in the scene. He tucked his hair behind furred ears and chewed on his lip in the way Alfred had learned by mimicking. Alfred scooched back a bit. It was uncomfortable on his own learning what he truly looked like again. This shape was just as odd as the others took it to be. Last night, he'd nestled down in the straw beside his brother and gazed up at the stars through the ceiling window of the longhouse. Tonight, the traders held a hunk of iron to the back of his neck and pressed until the skin was molten and his body was betraying him.
"Is it true?" Matthew asked in that small voice. "Did you take my shape all those years ago because you wanted to replace me?"
"Um, no, it's not exactly like that—"
"You didn't want to be my twin, did you. You wanted to be me. You just couldn't copy me all the way, so you fooled all of us into thinking you were some orphan who looked like me. You're a magic parasite. That's what those traders said before they exposed you."
"Don't say that, Mattie, please. I'm not a parasite. I never wanted to live your life. I just wanted a family. I was starving, and I saw you, and I transformed, and before I knew it, I was living as your brother. I didn't know about any 'swapping' or 'changeling' nonsense. I… I barely know what a 'changeling' is!"
"But you are a changeling! They said your people are responsible for thousands of missing children back where they're from! You're the embodiment of mischief and mayhem! The child of doom itself!"
"You think I'm not shocked to learn something like that about myself?"
"Don't act like you didn't know about this the whole time I've known you."
"Well, yeah, I have magical powers, and I never had a mama who was attacked by a bear. I never had any mama, or a papa. I think I just… grew out of the ground or something."
"You lied. You lied to the elders, you lied to the tribe, and you lied to me."
"I was gonna tell you. I was definitely gonna tell you before they made us elders."
"Would you have waited that long?"
"I was gonna tell you when the right time came. I'm harmless. I never wanted to be you. I grew up with you. I'm the same Alfred I was an hour ago. Appearances don't matter, right? I don't know anything about being a changeling or a bad fairy or whatever I am. I'm a Homoalces. Big teeth and hooves."
He knew the argument was useless. Matthew's lilac eyes were wide with upset. His timid nature fled, and the being which once held it grew beastly. The muscles tensed. The neck arched forward. The hooves scraped into the earth, and the voice came out as a deafening bellow. Matthew charged from where he stood, and Alfred had no time to dodge before his brother's skull collided with his chest. His featherweight body flew backwards into the dirt and rolled several feet before the hooves jabbed into his sides from all angles.
"Yes, appearances do matter! You don't just change your look and become whatever you're trying to look like! A Homoalces lives by honor and honesty! A Homoalces treats his brothers as equals! A Homoalces earns his strength! Someone like you is not a Homoalces and never will be!"
"Mattie, stop this. Please. I'm sorry. I was scared."
Matthew kicked him once more in the chest for good measure. "You didn't have to be scared of me," he sobbed. "But now… I'm so sorry, Al. Just go. Get out of here. Get out of Dinsmoor."
"Has the Council decided what to do with me?"
"They're going to banish you no matter what, so just leave. No one wants you here. Not if you keep secrets as big as this one."
"I don't have any other secrets—"
"Go."
Matthew had turned his back and was cantering back toward the village. The last Alfred saw of him was his stubby tail wiggling furiously behind.
The changeling, for that's what he was, picked himself up and winced at all the sharp new aches along his ribs. Matthew never knew his own strength sometimes, especially now when his opponent couldn't possibly fight back. Alfred was already bruised black where the hooves hit, and oozing from one of the marks was a dark, sticky substance he didn't recognize at first. It wasn't quite black, but a deep purplish-blue that matched the haunting depth of his eyes.
"My blood is purple," he whispered to no one but himself.
Then, without looking back, he slinked off into the trees and was gone from Dinsmoor.
~N~
Originally posted by scrivenernoodz (as Syntax-N) on FFN April 6th, 2020. Crossposted to AO3 June 30, 2026. Thanks for reading! Don't repost.