It was shortly after most of the important legal matters had been settled that Princess Celestia sat back on her throne. She wanted to yawn but felt she had to keep up appearances, even though the only other people in the throne room were her guards and Busy Quill, her assistant for the month.

“Are there any ponies – or humans, I guess – who require an audience, Miss Quill?” the princess asked, glancing down at the little bespectacled unicorn.

“Just the one, your highness,” Busy Quill answered and checked her list. “A certain mister Easter Hay, a donkey. I didn’t think donkeys would request audiences, if I may be so bold.”

“You’re right,” Celestia agreed. “There hasn’t been a donkey within these walls for six hundred years. But that doesn’t matter.” The princess turned to the guards at the far door. “Guards, let mister Hay in, please.”

The door guards nodded curtly and each took one handle of the sturdy door in their mouth. The door opened to reveal a youngish donkey with a sad expression hiding a strong spirit.

“Mister Hay? Please, approach the throne so I may listen to what you have to say.”

The donkey carefully made his way to Celestia, alternating between looking at the carpet directly in front of him and the throne. He noticeably tensed up when he reached his goal and looked directly at the princess.

“Princess?” the donkey anxiously started.

“Speak, my dear subject.”

Easter Hay looked down in doubt. “I really don’t feel good about this, but your highness? There is no Easter Hay.”

Celestia was justifiably surprised and raised a single eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“We’ve been cut off from our queen and the rest of our people,” Easter Hay said in a suddenly much lower tone of voice as he lay down on the floor. “We don’t know what to do anymore.”

Celestia’s mind raced. Mentioning a queen and claiming the person he identified as didn’t exist could only mean one thing.

“Reveal yourself, changeling,” the solar diarch ordered. Without even a moment’s hesitation, Easter Hay was shortly engulfed in green flames, revealing a somewhat bulkier than average changeling in blue barding, still laid down. The nearest guards jumped, but Celestia ordered them to stand back with a single hoof gesture.

“Explain yourself.”

“My name,” the prone changeling introduced as he stood up again, “is Commander Crucible, your highness. My infiltrators and I were scattered around the area, feeding on ambience and friendship, when Princess Twilight’s spell took hold. When we found that we’d moved, we tried to contact our queen, but failed. We learned of what happened, discussed our options, and decided to appeal to you and your infinite wisdom.”

Commander Crucible bowed deep. “My life and that of my charges is in your hooves… my liege.” Inside, he was in abject terror of what could happen next. One of the guards off the side, Crucible heard, broke off and stood next to him.

“Private Barricade?” Celestia called out. “What is the meaning of this?”

“I stand by my commander, your highness,” the guard reaffirmed and bowed just as deep, promptly turning a shiny black but retaining his uniform, his wings stuck underneath his flanchards. Celestia thought it amusing to see these two changelings side by side, contrasting in such ways. One was bulky and clad in dark blue, the other as sleek as any changeling she’d seen and clad in bright gold. Before she could consider how little their barding differed in actual design, Celestia realized that one of the guards had been a changeling all along.

Somehow, she couldn’t bring herself to think badly of it. Barricade had served her exemplary, was one of the first (but not the first) to react to Crucible’s reveal, and they hadn’t done anything that could be considered actually aggressive all this time, unlike at her niece’s wedding.

“Very well,” the princess decided. “I take it your people are already aware of our laws?”

Both changelings nodded once at almost the same time.

“And I can trust you to abide by these laws, and those of the other countries of this world?”

The two nodded twice. It was almost unnerving to see how they timed it like that.

“Busy Quill,” Celestia called out to the little unicorn hiding behind her throne, “see to it that this becomes law: I hereby declare the changeling population of Earth to be Equestrian citizens, given the same rights and duties as any pony, griffon, human, or other sentient being in these lands.” She paused to stomp her hoof on the dais. “Sic fatur Caelestia.”

“I never thought I’d get to hear that phrase and feel happy about it,” Crucible joked under his breath, then spoke up, “In name of my people, I thank you, your highness.”

“Good luck, Commander,” Celestia said as she watched Crucible turn back into a donkey and leave. “Private Barricade,” she called out, “back to your post.”

Barricade saluted sharply and returned to his spot near the wall. When he got there, he assumed the standard Royal Guard stone face expression, but retained his changeling appearance as he watched his commander leave. If it unnerved the guard standing next to him at all, he didn’t let it show.

Celestia felt bothered by something she’d learned, and called out again. “Private Barricade?”

“Princess.”

“How many other guards are changelings?” she asked. It wasn’t that the princess felt unsafe, knowing that there was at least one guard who was, until very recently, officially an enemy. Rather, she felt she wanted some disclosure, considering what said guards were supposed to do. Any other infiltrators or sleepers, as Crucible had called them, she really didn’t care about.

“Just one other, my liege,” Barricade revealed, “Steel Bearing of the night guard.”

“Is that his real name?”

“As is mine. If you wish so, I could find and inform him.”

“That may be a wise thing to do, Private. Though I’d suggest you take unicorn form again before you walk through those doors.”

Author's Note

Names for this chapter: Busy Quill, Barricade, and Steel Bearing are just your regular somewhat-appropriate names for a secretary-like type and members of the Royal Guard. Easter Hay is from a Frank Zappa track, "Watermelon in Easter Hay", and Crucible is my attempt to avert the bug theme, thanks to Nighthawk.

A flanchard is the part of a horse's barding (horse armor) that protects the flanks, extending from the saddle.