The Irony of Applejack Aftermath: A Warm Hearth

by Mister Friendly

Rating: teen
Tags: Slice of Life, Alternate Universe, Twilight Sparkle, Main 6, Applejack, Changelings, Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic
Length: 56790

A return to normal couldn't be too much to ask for... right?

The secret's finally out. All of Equestria knows about Applejack's true identity, and the identities of her fellow changelings.
But even with all of the new responsibilities being laid upon the young changeling, surely asking for one day of normalcy – a single day of celebration and pageantry amongst her closest friends – couldn't be too much to ask for, right?
Right?

Written because my Muse is a fickle one, she is.
Set between the events of The Irony of Applejack and it's sequel, The Advent of Applejack.
Cover art provided by Somepony. No really; don't give me that look.

Published 2013-12-26 13:10:02 UTC
Last updated 2014-12-30 22:57:09 UTC

Part 2

Part
2

“Oh Twilight, please tell me you didn’t,” sighed a disparaging Spike.

The lavender unicorn didn’t meet the disapproving dragon’s gaze. She tried to appear busy with her overnight bag, but even she had to admit that she wasn’t pulling it off anymore. There were only so many ways she could fiddle with her toothbrush and not appear to be dithering about.

All around the two were the familiar trappings of Twilight’s old bedroom. Everything was exactly the way the unicorn remembered it, from the astronomically accurate star chart covering the whole domed ceiling, right down to Spike’s old – and now slightly to small – bed sitting exactly between Twilight’s four-poster bed and a crackling fireplace filled with magical flames that danced upon their logs without so much as charring the wood.

Surrounding Twilight, too, were the memories of her greatest fillyhood accomplishments – her first completely grammatically correct essay, complete with her third grade teacher's gold star stamp of approval, a set of golden levitation training balls arranged by size from pea-sized to volley ball, her first abacus, among many more – yet at the moment, it was one of her most recent mistakes that sat squarely at the forefront of her mind.

Spike stood only a little ways behind her, One of Rarity’s heftier valises forgotten only halfway across the room from the door to a pile of the rest of their friend’s belongings. That was as far as he’d gotten it before he’d finally gotten the reason for Twilight’s moping out of her.

Of course, now he was having trouble believing the words he’d just been told. “And you just… stared at her?” Spike asked, clinging to hope that he’d heard wrong.

Twilight’s flinch, however, dashed those hopes completely. It was, in fact, exactly as bad as it’d sounded. “I… couldn’t stop myself,” Twilight admitted, flopping against her four-poster bed. “I know it was rude, and the look AJ gave me… Oh, she must be so offended right now!”

Twilight sighed heavily, her ears flopping lifelessly against the sides of her head. “I’m doing everything the other girls are. So… why is this so hard for me, Spike? How come every time I look at… at Applejack’s real face, I see that stupid… stupid queen, too?”

Spike had no answer to give, even though he felt like he desperately needed to give one – if only to reassure his life-long friend. He twiddled his claws apprehensively, one fang nipping at his lip while trying to think up something to say.

“Twilight, everypony’s struggling to adjust, too,” he thought to point out, “just like you.”

“Not Rainbow,” Twilight grumbled, sounding almost envious. That choice of tone caught Spike off guard, silencing him.

Twilight picked herself up and waved a hoof in irritation at nothing in particular while continuing to not meet Spike’s gaze. “That’s another thing I don’t get! How can Rainbow Dash act like nothing’s changed? We even had more hints than she did, while she got thrown face-first into that whole mess without any forewarning at all! But she hardly even missed a step! Hay, she and Applejack seem even closer than before! How is that even possible?!”

“Well,” Spike muttered, struggling to think of something that wouldn't ignite the temperamental mare's ire any further. He trailed off for but a second, ringing his claws the whole time, until a thought struck him, “What about all of those paparazzi that swarmed Sweet Apple Acres? Rainbow didn’t like that at all, remember?”

It was reaching, and Spike knew it, as did Twilight herself, but there was admittedly little else he had to offer up.

When the news about Applejack’s true identity had broken, every reporter, journalist and freelancer in the country had made a beeline for the orchards. Suddenly, Sweet Apple Acres was getting a lot more attention than it’d wanted, and definitely not in a good way.

‘The story of the century’ the media had called it; not only were there changelings living in Equestria, there was a queen among them to boot, and they apparently came in peace. There wasn’t a reporter alive who didn’t want a piece of that, and each one of them fully intended to poke around every square inch of the expansive orchards in their quest for the truth, no matter how invasive they had to be. And with the Guard still recuperating and in general disarray, there was nothing to stop them from doing whatever they wanted.

Pity that they hadn’t counted on Rainbow. Even with a broken wing, she’d fended off the worst of the lot with such ferocity that some started throwing around speculation that she wasn’t who she said she was, either. Of course, theories about secret undercover bodyguards didn’t stay afloat for long in reputable news circuits, and after her indignant parents got into the mix, the matter was dropped in its entirety after a written apology from the press. In some ways, that’d been a spectacle in itself worth seeing.

Still, the sudden media attention that’d swarmed Applejack and her family did put the weather pony in a noticeably foul mood for several days. Hardly anypony seemed to care about her heroics in the battle for Ponyville, and not once was she asked by reporters how she’d gotten so many injuries compared to the rest of her friends.

That predictably rubbed her the wrong way, and she became quite insufferable for a few weeks; even Applejack threatened to kick her off the farm once or twice if she didn’t lighten up. Only once the paparazzi found other targets to sink their fangs into – like the multitudes of other changelings taking up residence in the rural town, much to their dismay – did Rainbow seem to stop sulking as much, and once her wing came out of its cast she got back to her old self in no time at all.

Of course, Rainbow’s behavior was hardly a direct result of Applejack’s true identity, a fact that Twilight was plenty aware of herself. In fact, thinking about her daredevil friend only made her more frustrated.

Twilight abruptly sat down, scowling to herself. “I don’t get it. How can she just brush off the fact that everything we knew about Applejack was… wrong? I know AJ’s still our friend, I know that, but…”

“But that’s what’s making it so confusing?” Spike finished for her.

Twilight sighed yet again, slouching. “Yeah…”

Both were silent for a long time. The only sound in the room was the crackle and pop of fire and the soft ticking of a grandfather clock in the corner.

Just to find something to do, Spike once more set about shifting Rarity’s valise across the room with much grunting and shoving. Even with it being disturbingly heavy for its petite size, he was bound and determined to get it to the place of honor in front of Pinkie’s strangely floating suitcase and Fluttershy’s butterfly-emblazoned pack.

“Maybe you’re just looking at this the wrong way,” Spike suggested, though his focus was mainly on throwing his shoulder against Rarity’s bag while simultaneously trying not to trip over it.

“I don’t think it’s that simple, Spike,” Twilight said heavily. “Every time I look at Applejack, I want her to keep being that Applejack. But…”

For a split second, a flash of amber crossed her mind – a flash that seemed to stare accusingly back at her, challenging her, first in a regal foyer, and then amid wreckage and ruin…

“Every time I see those eyes…” Twilight all-but whispered, “It’s like she disappears just a little bit more.”

There was more Twilight needed to say – to at least get off her chest, so that it no longer dragged her down like a ball and chain. But, in the end, she stopped herself from divulging. These were not things befitting a baby dragon.

Twilight was so absorbed with trying to wrestle herself into submission that she about jumped out of her skin when something collided with her front.

And it took her a little bit longer to realize that that same thing had ahold of her midriff.

Spike didn’t say anything. In fact, he didn’t even meet Twilight’s gaze. He just did what he did best as the lavender unicorn’s number one assistant; supported her in her hour of need.

Twilight welcomed his hug, putting a hoof around him and squeezing him tightly. It wasn’t until then that she realized just how badly she’d needed one.

“Thanks, Spike,” she muttered into his head crest after a brief silence.

“Anytime, Twilight,” he replied into her chest. A moment later, he broke away from the unicorn in order to finally make eye contact. “So, what are you going to do about it?” he asked.

Twilight blinked, before once again averting her eyes.

“Oh come on, Twilight,” Spike sighed, poking her chest meaningfully with a claw. “Applejack’s our friend. You said it yourself! And you always find a way to fix things whenever our friends are in trouble. Compared to Discord, this is nothing!”

“This is different, Spike,” Twilight hedged, but Spike wasn’t buying any bit of it.

“Yeah right,” Spike scoffed with a roll of his eyes. “The only thing that’s different is that there isn't a demigod getting in the way. Just you.”

A slight flicker of irritation crossed Twilight’s expression. “Do you think I don’t know that? I’m doing my best, I really am. See, look.”

On a whim, Twilight’s horn lit up. She turned her head in the direction of her overnight bag, just as the top unzipped itself and flipped open. And a moment later, something hovered out of it on a veil of purple magic before floating closer to the pair.

Unsurprisingly to Spike, it was a book. When one lived with a studious unicorn like Twilight for any length of time, one had to develop and expectation for literature to be nearby and readily available at a moment’s notice. It was very Pinkie Pie-esque sometimes, though he’d never dare say it to Twilight’s face.

This was, however, a book wrapped in a red ribbon tied in a bow. A tag hung off of it, tied by a length of twine around the base of the bow:

To: Applejack

From: Twilight Sparkle

But it wasn’t until the thickly bound book floated close enough that Spike made out the title, and he couldn’t help but wince.

“101 Spells For Colts And Fillies?” he read, then crooked an eyebrow at Twilight.

“What?” she huffed defensively. “She could use it! I mean, last time we practiced, she managed to lift a ball two whole inches only using her horn!”

It didn't take her long, however, for her expression to screw up. “be… fore crushing it to powder. I didn’t even know steel could do that. But still, it was progress, no matter what Applejack said!”

Spike paled at that. “S-steel?”

Twilight carefully returned the present back to its place while Spike recovered, all the while frowning to herself.

“Honestly, with how little control she has over all of that magic, it’s a wonder she managed to keep it a secret this long without anypony getting suspicious,” she noted. “She had to have magic spurts growing up. Maybe I should ask her next time we sit down to talk…”

Twilight lapsed into thoughtful silence after that. She didn’t even seem to notice the uncomfortable look Spike was giving her.

“I don’t know, Twilight,” her said uncertainly. “Maybe you’re focusing a little too hard on the new Applejack. Maybe if you paid more attention to the old Applejack, things will get better.”

Yet again, Twilight sighed. This time she set Spike aside, stood up and pointed herself towards the door. “Yeah… And that’s the problem…”

Just as she magically pried open the double bedroom doors, she paused and directed a weak smile over her shoulder towards Spike. “Thanks for trying, Spike. I’ll think of something. I just… need some more time.”

~~***~~

The hallways leading away from Twilight’s tower bedroom were, as always, very quiet. Hardly anypony but patrolling guards and the occasional butler or maid was permitted to venture this far into the royal suites, which spared it from the commotion ringing through the rest of the castle grounds.

It was part of the reason why Twilight liked this part of the castle so much. The quiet privacy that permeated the halls, the lack of anypony else moving about the corridors; these were the perfect conditions for Twilight to ponder her thoughts away without the fear of interruptions. And right then, that was precisely what she needed the most.

With only the sound of her own hooves thumping on soft carpet, and the cold late afternoon sun lighting her way, Twilight started to think, and think hard about only one thing in particular; Applejack.

The unfortunate thing was that the problem she had with Applejack was not something she could easily rationalize, quantify, then set about solving. She’d tried so many times in the past, but nothing seemed to work. Every time she thought she’d thoroughly convinced herself that Applejack was still Applejack, all it took was the sight of those strange amber eyes to bring it all crashing down again. This day had been no exception, and would likely not be the last one, either.

She walked the long corridors in silence, lost in thought. Some part of her knew where she was going, but she was too distracted to realize it fully. There was still the bigger issue to tackle, but for the sheer scope of it, it’d take a very long corridor indeed for her to figure it out properly.

But she was also aware that she was running out of time, and running out of it fast. The anxiety tugging in her chest told her how close she was to missing an important deadline, and it was fraying the nerves she needed to come up with a solution.

Twilight didn’t like it, but she forced herself to shift her thoughts towards more pressing matters. Such as, what to say to Applejack once they met face to face again. That, at least, could smooth out this rough patch, and that was precisely what she had to do first and foremost. The rest would just have to wait.

Oh, I hope she’s not too upset with me… But how should I apologize…?

Something tickled at the back of her mind, something that didn’t have much of a foothold in her train of thought beyond an almost subconscious recognition and dismissal.

But what if it happens again? Am I going to have to prepare myself every single time I see her like that?

There it was again, tugging at the back of her head, trying to find some sort of purchase to get her attention. Twilight merely shrugged it off, however.

No, I can’t let myself think about that right now. I need to make up with Applejack first, then…

That was when something physically prodded the side of her head.

Twilight leapt two feet straight up in the air with a shriek, her little private thought bubble exploding non-too gently.

With her introversion shattered spectacularly, she suddenly became very aware of her surroundings; namely, a companion she’d failed to notice. The white stallion keeping pace with her jumped almost as much as she did, in fact.

But even as Twilight whipped around to confront this intruder, a voice rose to cut her off before she could do anything at all.

“Geez, Twiley; you haven’t changed at all.”

Whatever Twilight had been on the verge of saying instantly melted away into an astonished gasp.

“Shiny!”

How could she have overlooked Shining Armor’s presence until that very moment? He could’ve been walking alongside her for whole minutes and she hadn’t picked up on a thing.

That didn’t change the fact that he was right there beside her; tall and proud as ever, clad in his purple and gold captain armor, and flashing his little sister a bemused smile.

“Ohmygosh, I didn’t see you there!” Twilight cried, still too taken aback to even process anything besides adrenaline and shock.

“I kind of noticed,” her brother replied ruefully. “What, were you planning on walking all the way to the Great Hall without noticing me? If you’re not careful, you’re going to hurt my feelings, little sis.”

Twilight’s response to that was to suddenly jump at the unsuspecting Guard Captain in a move that very nearly bowled him over entirely. Had it been anypony else, Shining might’ve concluded that he was under attack; his sister’s hug was just so energetic.

“I’m so sorry!” Twilight apologized loudly, all the while beating herself up internally for completely ignoring her one and only big brother.

“Easy, Twilight,” Shining chuckled, trying to pry the lavender unicorn off of his front with little success. “It’s fine. It’s not like I don’t know how you get sometimes.”

“Sorry,” Twilight said one more time in a sheepish tone, finally letting go of her brother and taking a few embarrassed steps back.

Shining Armor was still smiling, though. He shook his head, chuckling, all the while giving his little sister a look. “The last time you were this zoned out, you were burying yourself in that Mare In The Moon story,” he mused. He eyed Twilight out of the corner of his eye, scrutinizing her. “Is something bothering you?”

He was surprised when Twilight abruptly wilted. Whatever had been bothering her suddenly seemed to come rushing back in full force, now that the shock had passed.

“Oh… well, sorry,” she said yet again while composing herself. “I’ve just got a few things on my mind.”

“More than usual, I’m guessing,” Shining put in, only now he was redoubling his scrutiny of his little sister.

A weak smile flickered across her lips. “Yes. More than usual,” she said in a brave attempt at humor, and then continued walking. Her brother effortlessly matched her stride, however; he wouldn’t be letting her go that easily.

“Anything I can help with?” Shining asked, all business now. There was an upset little sister to look after; nothing could be more serious.

This time, Twilight couldn’t stop her grin, even if it was rather wry. “No offense, Shining, but I don’t think you’d be able to do much. It’s… a personal problem, that’s all.”

Her brother frowned, clearly of a different opinion, but as he opened his mouth to say something, a new voice cut across him from Twilight’s other side.

“Well then, maybe I could help.”

Twilight froze in her tracks again, astonishment pulling another gasp from her. She quickly whipped around, and found the source of that voice standing at a T junction between corridors intersecting their path.

Twilight would’ve recognized her anywhere. Her pink coat, her long and curly three-toned mane, the slender horn and beautiful wings; these were all things Twilight would never allow herself to forget for a second time.

“Cadance!” she cheered, and without a second thought, bounded away towards her old foalsitter.

Shining Armor laughed to himself and rolled his eyes privately while he took his time catching up, all the while watching his little sister and wife go through their ritualized greeting like a couple of giggling schoolyard fillies.

You underestimate me sometimes, Twiley.

~~***~~

All three ponies made their way through the castle, down steadily busier and busier corridors and hallways filled with ponies.

Twilight hardly even noticed them, however. In fact, only Shining seemed to be taking stock of his surroundings, as every now and then he’d break away from the conversation to salute to guards stationed here and there along their path, occasionally shooting off an “At ease” when the need arose before snapping back to the talkative set of mares walking with him.

Cadance and Twilight were busily chatting away about anything and everything, sparing a laugh or two whenever the fancy struck them. After a while, it even seemed like the lavender unicorn was the one doing all of the giggling, something Shining noticed.

“I’m so glad we could visit a bit, Twilight,” Cadance said at last with a big smile. “And there isn’t a state of emergency for a change!”

“We’ve still got time left,” Twilight giggled.

Cadance laughed in response, covering her mouth with a hoof. “For heaven’s sake, Twilight; could we please go one day without awakening some sort of ancient evil to terrorize the countryside? There are only so many disasters a country can take in a year!”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Twilight laughed back.

It was around that time that it finally dawned on Twilight that something had happened. Somehow, the hallways of Canterlot didn’t seem as dark, or as cold. The chatter of ponies wasn’t invasive or abrasive, and actually seemed quite homely. The weight on her heart was all-but gone; evaporated like it was nothing at all, not really.

Here she was, trying to keep from digging herself into a deeper hole, and then these two ponies show up, and everything changed. The problem wasn’t gone, but she at least no longer felt like she was on the verge of being crushed by it. And that, as it turned out, made all the difference in the world.

“So,” Cadance started, looking the lavender unicorn over. “Do you feel like talking about what’s on your mind now, Twilight?”

Twilight opened her mouth, then paused. A beat later, she opened it again, a smile on her lips.

“You know what? I’m alright. I’ll figure something out; I know I will.”

Cadance barely seemed to miss a step, if her warm smile proved anything. “I’m glad to hear that. Well, if you need any help with Applejack, just let us know.”

“Alright, I will!” Twilight said happily without a second thought. “Sorry, but I have to go now; rehearsals will be starting soon!”

And without waiting for another word, she turned and galloped away, a noticeable bounce in her step.

She left behind her a rather nonplussed Shining Armor, who was scratching his head, and a giggling Cadance, who merely waved goodbye to the retreating unicorn’s back.

“So,” Shining spoke up, turning questioningly towards his wife. “How did you know it was about Applejack?”

Cadance merely gave him a knowing look. “Like brother like sister, I suppose,” she said teasingly. “What else could it be these days?”

Shining frowned, but said nothing. After all, he had no way to argue with that. None whatsoever.

Cadance giggled to herself before turning to look back in Twilight’s direction, just as she rounded a corner. But as she continued to stare after her, some of the warmth seemed to dwindle from her smile. “I’d hoped Celestia was just being a worrywart sending us to check up on her. Poor Twilight… I hope she finds her answer soon, before things get any more complicated than they already are.”

~~***~~

The Great Hall of Canterlot Castle. Like the center of a compass rose, it sat at the very epicenter of the majestic home of the royal pony sisters, with everything else radiating out and away in every possible direction. All roads in the castle eventually found themselves reaching the Great Hall, one way or another.

The hall itself was absolutely gigantic in every way; a true testament to the genius of the castle’s architects. From weddings to galas, there wasn’t a single event in Equestria that would ever want for space in the colossal hall. Even the most claustrophobic of pegasi would feel reassured by the soaring arched roof that seemed almost impossibly high from the ground.

The great arched windows on either side of the hall opened up upon the snow-blanketed landscape all around, far and wide; from the glinting rooftops of the city of Canterlot, all the way out to the distant mountains; if one had keen enough eyes, nothing was out of sight for anypony wanting to look.

Soft, merry music danced through the air of the hall, despite there not being a single musician manning their instruments. There was only a lone conductor standing off to one side, occasionally flicking a golden conducting baton. And every time he did so, the music would immediately change from one song to the next like some kind of tape recorder.

But nopony was really paying attention to the ethereal melodies drifting from an only partially assembled orchestra pit. They had their hooves full with considerably more important tasks.

Great wreaths big enough for the royal sisters to jump through were being strung high up on the columns lining the hall. Boughs of holly and gigantic red ribbons as big around as ponies looped through the air from pillar to pillar, and there were entire teams of unicorns and pegasi working in unison to make sure everything stayed where it was supposed to.

Aisle upon aisle of cushioned seating covered the immense marbled floor, and they were all aimed at the huge shape of a grand old stage.

How it’d managed to get into the Great Hall was a mystery to everypony. One day the hall had been vacant as always. The next, the antique stage stood right where it always did – not a centimeter out of place whatsoever.

Its unblemished wooden frame looked freshly stained and clear-coaked. The rich and billowing curtains were pristine, the network of lines and blocks they were attached to were rigged to perfection, the myriad costumes were impeccably cleaned and pressed, and the set pieces were all assembled and freshly repainted – with nopony the wiser as to who was responsible. Even the guards merely shrugged when asked.

But, there was something... missing to it all. This is what first hit Twilight the moment she jogged into the busy hall mid-construction.

For the longest time, she couldn’t quite place it, but it refused to leave her alone despite her determination to stay focused on other things. Whatever it was, it kept tugging at Twilight’s ear, causing her to listen when she wasn’t entirely sure why.

She could hear hammering, voices calling out to each other or else murmuring amongst themselves in a more private fashion; all of which was perfectly normal. Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was just… missing.

But she had much more important things to concern herself with, and the distraction was only momentary.

It didn’t take her long to spot the first of her friends, however; that chased away the nagging suspicion completely, especially when one of their voices rang out across the hall.

“There you are!” Rarity cried out in exasperation. She’d been standing all the way by the stage platform with Fluttershy, chatting to fill the time. That’d all come to a screeching halt the moment the purple unicorn came running into the fashionista’s field of vision.

However, they were the only two in eyesight. Pinkie not being in plain view was nothing new; Twilight was fully expecting her to pop out at any moment and from any direction, and likely from the most improbable of locations. But Rainbow was also nowhere to be found, which the purple unicorn could overlook somewhat. It was the absence of Applejack that caught Twilight’s attention the most.

A quick look around the expansive hall didn’t turn up hide nor hair of the apple farmer – neither her orange coat nor less familiar charcoal chitin. That was odd… and rather unsettling.

Nopony seemed to notice her gawking around, however; least of all a rather disgruntled pearly white fashionista.

“Do you know what time it nearly is?” Rarity shot, her patience clearly at its limit. She was cantering down the lane between the rows of seating, not content to wait for the librarian to come to her.

“I’m sorry!” Twilight cried out, panting from the run. “Did I miss anything?”

“No, thank goodness,” Rarity huffed. She was frowning, but there was a different reason for her close scrutiny of her friend. She was searching her friend over a lot more intently than her shortened temper might’ve predicted. “Honestly, at least Applejack has a good excuse. You, on the other hoof…”

The moment she said the name, Twilight’s ears twitched, and her head snapped around. “Wait, then where’s Applejack?” she asked, slightly panicky. “She’s not here?”

How could she not be present at all? The idea felt so outlandish so as to be unthinkable. And she’d painstakingly been scripting out the perfect apology in her head, too…

Then, a darker thought loomed in the back of Twilight’s mind, and quickly spread to take full hold of her faculties. Had Applejack run away because of what’d happened between them? Was she so hurt by Twilight’s actions that she didn’t want to see the unicorn at all anymore? Was Applejack perhaps, at that very moment, boarding a train back of Ponyville – or maybe somewhere even farther? Had she just chased one of her best friends right out of Equestria because of some stupid slip on her part?!

“She had some business to take care of with Roseluck before rehearsals. She should turn up any time now.”

Oh.

Twilight let out a breath, internally trying to calm herself down. Keep it together, Twilight… just keep it together…

Meanwhile, Rarity was looking her friend over carefully, and she didn’t try to conceal her concern. “Darling, are you alright? You seem a little… frazzled.”

Twilight jolted as if electrocuted, and then immediately forced a smile. “N-no, I’m fine, really! I just really need to talk to Applejack, that’s all.”

“I… see,” Rarity responded hesitantly. She wanted to dig deeper; to find out what exactly had caused them to lose so much time between both the unicorn and the changeling.

But at the same time, she knew a personal problem when she saw one. The best she could do was keep a close eye on the pair from afar, and be ready for action should the need arise. It pained her to do so, but there were just some places a pony had no business sticking her nose thoughtlessly.

Twilight’s voice abruptly cut across the fashionista’s train of thought, causing her to jump when her friend spoke. “I am sorry for taking so long – really. I hope the director isn’t too mad with us.”

Unbeknownst to the purple unicorn, however, Rarity caught Fluttershy’s eye briefly, but her only contribution was to give a helpless shrug to the fashionista.

“About that, darling,” Rarity said, and for some reason she felt the need to drop her voice carefully. “There’s something you need to know, before…”

“Well, it’s about time.”

Twilight looked up and away – not quite catching Rarity’s wince in time – straight towards a particularly severe looking pony standing on the stage.

It didn’t take long for Twilight to figure out who she was. Her brilliant vermillion coat was a complete give away.

For that matter, her entire body was comprised of nothing by various shades of red; her vermillion coat, her brick red mane – even her piercing eyes were ruby.

This, Twilight could tell, was Verily Vermillion, the new director of the Hearth’s Warming Pageant.

It was precisely at that moment that her brain finished processing the anomaly that’d been teasing her. All throughout the hall, from one end to the other, there wasn’t a single laugh to be heard. There were voices from the decorating crews milling about the place, oh yes, but they comprised nothing but pragmatic orders and communication. There was no cheerful banter, no joking – just business, business and more business, a complete far cry from what it’d been like last year.

That was the moment when Twilight started to get a bad feeling indeed.

Verily stepped gracefully down a set of stairs, and even though she turned in the direction of where she was going, her razor-like gaze stayed planted firmly upon the lavender newcomer, studying her with laser-like intensity.

If anypony had to describe Verily in a word, it would likely be ‘severe’. Everything about her was razor sharp, from the tight bun her sleek mane was done up in right down to the jutting angle to the curves of her body; even her jaw seemed to be made of nothing but sharp angles, and her mouth was as thin and straight as a paper cut. If her pupils turned out to be cat’s eye slits, nopony would’ve been surprised in the least.

Her black-frame glasses were sharp and angular, her horn was sharp as a javelin, her modestly cut business coat was sharp – even her cutie mark comprised a set of rather deadly-looking pens with disconcerting tips dripping with ink. At least, everypony hoped it was ink.

“Miss Twilight Sparkle, I presume,” she said, and even her words were pointed. “You’re very nearly late.”

Twilight could just make out an accent in the businessmare’s voice, but she couldn’t quite place it. Was it Canterlotian? Manehattan? She couldn’t quite tell – it was too subtle, but sophisticated nonetheless.

“Yes, Ma’am,” Twilight said as politely as possible while inclining her head respectfully.

Verily didn’t seem to react in the slightest to her voice. She continued striding towards the group, scrutinizing the mare so closely that Twilight had to fight back the urge to squirm.

“I see. Well then, I am Verily Vermillion – your director for this pageant,” she said tersely. “Now that we’ve gotten introductions out of the way, you are the one who will be playing Clover the Clever, if I am not mistaken.”

It didn’t sound like a question – not to Twilight, but the look Verily gave her clearly demanded a response.

“Yes, I am,” Twilight responded.

Again, Verily didn’t act like she’d heard a single syllable leave Twilight’s mouth. “Good of you to finally join us, then. The stand-ins were beginning to get hopeful,” she said, and not once did her expression even flicker from its hard façade.

At first, Twilight thought that it was a joke, and even tried an attempt at nervous laughter – until she saw the subtle shake of the head Rarity was hastily giving her. Verily was dead serious, it seemed.

“Unfortunately,” Verily went on, her tone completely unchanged, “it appears that we are still one important pony down.”

That was the only moment Twilight saw Verily’s expression shift. For a split second, Verily’s muzzle wrinkled, making her appear somehow more sour than before. But as quickly as it happened, it disappeared again, causing Twilight to question whether she’d even seen it or not.

At the same time, Rarity no longer seemed comfortable standing in place for as much as she started fidgeting. Fluttershy had pulled a vanishing act altogether, leaving only the two to face the new director by themselves.

“W-well,” Twilight started, and immediately felt the weight of Verily’s gaze flick back to her, “maybe we could rehearse in the meantime? Applejack’s part isn’t until the second act, after all.”

She finished with what she prayed was a winning smile, though Verily’s reaction – or general lack thereof – was a poor medium to judge its success by.

The director scrutinized Twilight even harder than before, her eyes narrowing, until, quite abruptly –

“Very well then,” Verily replied. “I will give you all five minutes to prepare. There are scripts in the back, should you desire them.”

Twilight’s internal sigh was cut short when Verily’s voice snapped out again. “But if Miss Applejack still hasn’t deemed it necessary to be present for her own part, I will have one of my own actresses take her place. I am in the business of putting on quality performances, Miss Sparkle; not waiting to do so.”

Twilight steeled herself under the intimidating mare’s gaze, and even managed to meet it squarely. “Don’t worry. She’ll be here.”

Verily held the unicorn’s gaze momentarily without comment. Then, swiftly, she turned around and headed back towards the stage in a single sweeping move. “You’d best be correct, Miss Sparkle. We have only three hours to ready ourselves for the biggest show in all of Equestria,” she called back without turning around. “Let us make it one to remember, shall we?”

Only once she was out of sight did Twilight remember to breathe.

“She’s been like that ever since we got here,” Rarity said, all the while making sure Verily was out of earshot. “One would think she’d at least attempt to be polite to the princess’ personal student, but I guess even that was a bit much to hope for.

“I’m sure she’s… just under a lot of stress right now!” Twilight said with forced brightness. “This is probably the biggest show in her career, not to mention one of the most important plays in the whole country. I can’t imagine what kind of pressure she’s under right now.”

Twilight turned to watch the new director go, until she vanished backstage once more. “Well… I suppose she could be worse.”

The lavender unicorn would never see how much Rarity winced in response to her words.

“Darling… perhaps you should follow me,” the fashionista said, and her uncomfortable tone was evident enough to draw Twilight’s attention once again. “There is something I need to show you. Preferably, before Applejack returns.”

Twilight gave Rarity a confused look, trying to dissect the fashionista’s somber expression. Whatever was causing it, it was giving the lavender unicorn an even worse feeling.

“Um… alright. Lead the way,” she said nervously.

Rarity nodded, then turned to head off – towards the stage itself.

~~***~~

Twilight couldn’t help but marvel when she stepped back stage, and for one simple fact; not a single thing about it had changed. Every box of props, every rack of costumes, even the flickering light bulb halfway up the farthest left vanity mirror hanging on one of the walls; it was all exactly as she remembered it.

It was as if she’d stepped back in time, back to the year before, when she and the rest of her friends first giddily trotted into the cluttered preparation area with their hearts in their throats. It was like a dreamy memory… one that was shattered by the presence of Rarity leading the way in front of her.

“Uh… Where are we going?” Twilight asked, confused when the fashionista passed right by all of the likely suspects. Rarity didn’t so much as glance at the racks of costumes cluttered together on one end of the room. She paid no attention to the boxes of props, either, or the stocks of cosmetics by the vanity mirrors.

In fact, the corner that held fairly near all of Rarity’s attention was, strangely enough, very barren indeed. There was only a purple dividing curtain there, and nothing else of note.

“It’s over here, Twilight,” Rarity said anyway, and she even pointed towards that same peculiar corner of the room.

“And… what does an empty corner have to do with anything?” Twilight asked, completely at a loss.

Finally, Rarity paused, slowing down in order to give Twilight a meaningful look. “It… doesn’t really. But I’d rather have this conversation away from…” she darted her gaze around rapidly, as if expecting to catch eavesdroppers at every turn, “… prying eyes. Especially Verily, herself.”

Rarity turned back around and kept going, leaving Twilight only more confused than ever before.

“I’ve been trying to figure out why Miss Vermillion’s name sounded so familiar,” Rarity started to explain. For some reason, she spoke with a mild note of vexation. “Even in Ponyville, I would like to think I have a healthy understanding about the who’s who in high society. So why the name of the Canterlot pageant’s new director didn’t immediately jump out at me made me curious.”

Abruptly, Rarity pulled up to a stop – right in the corner she’d been headed towards.

It didn’t take Twilight long to figure out why, either. The spot was dimly lit compared to the rest of the area, and not in an immediate line of sight with any of the entrances. A shelf loaded with what looked to be rubber weaponry provided a small degree of privacy, while Twilight’s and Rarity’s bodies themselves provided still further cover between what they were doing and prying eyes.

This was what started to make Twilight nervous, as her mind started piecing together the strange levels of secrecy the fashionista was taking. Rarity was not, by virtue, a secretive pony to begin with. Something seriously wrong must’ve happened for her to resort to such measures, and it was beginning to put Twilight ill at ease.

She never got a chance to speak up, however – Rarity beat her to it quite handily.

“So, while the rest of us waited for you,” Rarity whispered almost conspiratorially with an ever more baffled Twilight, “I asked around a little about our star director, and eventually came across this very nice stallion working in rigging. The ring on his horn was such a shame… anyway, what was I saying? Oh yes! He seemed to know an awful lot about Miss Vermillion.”

“And?” Twilight asked. Without even meaning to, she whispered back in kind, leaning in a little closer towards Rarity. Now she couldn’t help but be interested, even if the look Rarity was giving her made her wish she wasn’t. “What did he tell you?”

The fashionista, however, floundered for a second. She seemed to be warring with herself to find the right words for the job, and it wasn’t coming easily. “It… wasn’t so much what he told me,” Rarity hedged, “as much as it was what he showed me instead.”

Without giving any further explanation, Rarity’s horn started to glow.

To Twilight’s surprise, the curtains right next to her started to rustle and part, revealing the dark wooden divider behind it – along with a long, slender tube of some sort.

This was what Rarity grasped in her telekinetic grip, and carefully pulled it out from its hiding spot.

But instead of receiving answers, Twilight only got still more questions. For the thing Rarity was taking such pains to conceal… was a rolled up poster bound at both ends by rubber bands.

Yet, Rarity was continuing to watch Twilight carefully, as if half expecting the unicorn to start screaming. It was like she was handling some living, vicious thing she hoped wouldn’t scare Twilight too badly.

Twilight’s reaction was, however, distinctly less dramatic.

“It’s… just a poster,” the lavender unicorn observed. She was starting to get a very sneaking suspicion that somepony was trying to pull a fast one on her, and the fact that both Pinkie and Rainbow were still nowhere to be seen only added to her suspicions.

But if that was the case, Rarity seemed determined to see it through to the end. “Not just any poster,” she whispered somberly.

Without waiting any longer, the fashionista suddenly began rolling the bands off of the ends of the poster at the same time, then letting them fall unceremoniously out of her magical grip once they’d relinquished their hold.

Then, with a flourish, Rarity unrolled the poster for Twilight to see.

The first thing the lavender unicorn saw was the big, toothy grin of a sneering changeling’s profile, its holey hooves wrapped improbably around a burning caricature of a city – one with a familiar castle at its heart.

At the bottom were a pair of ponies – a snow white stallion in badly mauled Royal Guard armor, and what looked to be a scuffed up clerk mare of some sort, standing alone before the gates of the Canterlot throne room against a sea of sneering, obsidian shapes.

And splashed over the chilling image was a large title, ballooned out in black and green letters that read, “The Fly on the Wall.”

Twilight cringed at the mere sight of the poster. She knew it well enough, actually; most ponies she knew did, considering the advertisements had flooded Ponyville a while back.

The premise was simple enough, but that was what made it so harsh. A changeling sleeper agent infiltrates Canterlot as a butler, and through eavesdropping on the right ponies, stages a coup aimed at assassinating Princess Celestia and overthrowing Equestria entirely, which is only barely thwarted by the lone hero who’d been on the agent’s trail the whole time – despite nopony believing him.

Naturally, it was a hit in the big cities, as were the half-dozen other anti-changeling stage performances and screenplays that swarmed the entertainment scene. There still were some out there, but none quite achieved the fame and notoriety of The Fly on the Wall.

Of course, why Rarity felt the need to remind Twilight about that only added to a mounting pile of questions the lavender unicorn was accumulating.

“Rarity, I already know about this,” Twilight pointed out. “I’m pretty sure we spent, like, two days taking down these posters before they could upset anyone back home. Rarity… what is this about?”

Rarity blinked, as if Twilight’s response had taken her by surprise. “Darling… Look beneath the title.”

Twilight frowned, but complied nonetheless.

Beneath the large, sweeping title, there was a catch phrase that read simply, “Watch What You Say…”.

But beneath that, written in relatively tiny font over a painted tongue of emerald flame, was something else – something Twilight never would’ve bothered to read in passing. It was only because of Rarity that she’d even spotted the short line at all, and now that she was paying attention, it ground the unicorn’s thoughts to a screeching halt.

“A screenplay written and directed by V.V..”

By V.V. …

Twilight took one look at the line, and immediately turned very, very pale indeed.

“Oh… oh…”

...

"...Oh ponyfeathers."

~~***~~

Applejack gazed out across the Great Hall as she stepped over the threshold. Her eyes swept from one end to the other, surveying it all in a single swift sweep.

There should’ve been a smile on her face, an eager bounce to her step. Just seeing the stage caused her pulse to rise in anticipation.

But instead, she wore a focused look on her features while everything else was kept in check.

After completing her attentive scan of the room, she glanced to her side – towards a khaki earth pony who met her glance carefully.

“That everythin’?” Applejack asked levelly.

“More or less,” Roseluck responded. “Just remember; if you need anything at all, I’ll be with everyone in the changeling section.”

For a moment, Applejack’s eyes flicked over the hall again – particularly, towards a corded off swath in the rows of seats. For many reasons, that didn’t sit right with her, especially the large signs marking it – with words and imagery – for what it was.

But, she wasn’t about to complain. The fact that changelings were even being allowed into the castle already was perhaps more than most of them could’ve ever hoped for. A little discrimination – intentional or otherwise – was just a blow she’d have to roll with.

“Alright,” Applejack said after a pause. She inhaled, taking the time to steel her nerves for what was to come. “Ah’ll be sure ta keep that in mind. But could ya do me a small favor?”

Roseluck paused, actually taken aback by the unexpected request. “Certainly. What can I do for you?”

Applejack smiled in response. “Be sure ta enjoy the pageant, would ya? And take a little time off, fer Pete’s sake. Business can wait ‘till tomorrow.”

Despite herself, Roseluck gave the changeling queen a somewhat wry smile. “Is that an order?”

Applejack chuckled once, looking a little sheepish. “Darn straight it is. If anypony deserves a rest once in a while, it’s you, sugarcube,” she said.

Roseluck’s smile turned into something kinder after that. She wanted to say a number of things in response – to point out that a drone didn’t simply set down their duty to their queen, or to mention that she’d volunteered for this position, even if she was nearly two decades out of practice.

But, at the same time, she didn’t quite feel like spoiling the moment.

“Alright, Applejack,” she said, “I’ll see what I can do. Oh, and I almost forgot.”

The apple farmer was just preparing to bat down anything else Rose had to run by her, when she noticed a hoof extending towards her.

“For good luck,” was the only explanation Rose gave.

In her hoof was what appeared to be a small hairclip shaped like three tiny white berries linked by a trio of round, smooth leaves.

“Happy Hearth’s Warming, Applejack,” Roseluck added pleasantly.

Applejack blinked down at the thing being offered to her, and a full two seconds later, it finally occurred to what she was looking at.

“Aw shucks,” Applejack chortled, now truly embarrassed. “Ya didn’t have ta go and do that…”

Still, she didn’t stop Rose from reaching up and sticking the clip right next to Applejack’s left ear. Of course, now she could feel it every time her ear moved.

“There,” Roseluck said, satisfied, surveying her handiwork. “That will do nicely.”

Applejack was too self-conscious to meet Rose’s eye, and her own slight chuckle seemed to make the apple farmer turn even redder than before.

“Rose… ya know that’s mistletoe, right?” Applejack asked.

Roseluck chuckled, fidgeting uncomfortably. “It dawned on me after I’d already bought it,” she admitted. “I may have read a few too many flower arrangement books before-hoof. It’s a habit of mine, I admit. Finding something festive and meaningful can be a bit… challenging.”

Roseluck followed up by unexpectedly flashing a playful smirk that caught Applejack off guard. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of a few kisses from your admirers, are you?” she teased.

Applejack’s response was to turn so red and her eyes so wide that it took every ounce of self-restraint Roseluck had to keep herself from laughing out loud.

“Relax, Applejack; you’re going to do fine,” Roseluck said kindly. “Just do what you do best and be yourself.”

“Ah… Ah’ll give it a shot,” Applejack responded. She finally managed to meet Roseluck’s gaze, even if her responding smile was kind of lopsided and her cheeks still burned. “Thanks, Rose.”

“Any time, Applejack,” Rose said with a small laugh. “Now, you’d better get going, before –”

“There you are!”

Neither pony ever saw the pegasus coming. Applejack felt the rush of air hit her, heard the whooshing sound of flapping wings and the clatter of hooves beside her, but she never quite got her head around fast enough to catch the one responsible in motion.

What she saw instead, however, was the sight of a cyan pegasus standing practically shoulder to shoulder with her. The proximity caused Applejack to automatically jolt to one side, alarmed. “Landsakes, Rainbow. Would it kill ya ta give me a little warnin’ ‘fore ya go and do that?”

It didn’t take long after she said that, however, for Applejack to pick up on something… wrong with the pegasus.

The near zero personal space was one thing. The alertness in Rainbows sweeping gaze was another, as was the focused scowl on her face, and the fact that she wasn’t even looking at Applejack.

“Hey, I gave you plenty,” Rainbow argued.

“Three words ain’t plenty,” Applejack pointed out.

“Uh huh.”

Rainbow turned, and seemed fully intent on giving Applejack a piece of her mind… when she noticed something on the left side of the apple farmer’s face.

“…Why’s there mistletoe in your mane?”

Applejack only barely kept herself from sputtering. “Th-that ain’t important. What in the world’s got ya worked up now?”

Immediately, Rainbow averted her gaze. She may have even looked nonchalant – if, of course, Applejack hadn’t know her even half as well as she did. “Oh, no reason.”

Applejack frowned, before glancing towards Roseluck, who gave her a wary look in response. “Now what’s goin’ on?”

~~***~~

“Twilight? Breathe, darling; breathe.”

Rarity’s command came a little too late; Twilight was already hyperventilating.

“No, no… no no nonono,” Twilight panicked, her eye twitching. “No, no, this can’t be happening. This can’t be happening!”

Her eyes stayed fixed on the poster – on the title, “The Fly on the Wall”, particularly – and the name of the creator just beneath it.

“V.V.? Verily Vermillion is that V.V.?!” she burst out, unable to contain herself.

“So then, you know who she is?” Rarity ventured, trying at a friendly smile. It didn’t quite work.

“Know her? Of course I know her!” Twilight all-but shouted, which caused Rarity to look around worriedly. Luckily, nopony else was around to pay them any mind. “She’s only the writer for the most popular anti-changeling screenplay in Equestria! How could anypony not know her?!”

“Twilight, darling, could you please keep your voice down?” Rarity begged, but the lavender unicorn was too far gone to hear.

“This is terrible!” Twilight cried, beginning to pace. “How could somepony like her be put in charge of the pageant if –”

And then it hit her – a realization that dawned on her in the worst possible way. “Oh my gosh – Applejack! What if – what if she finds out, and she gets upset or – ohmigosh, what if Verily kicks her out of the pageant because she’s a changeling?! If that happens, the rest of the changelings will be offended for sure!”

Without warning, she suddenly whirled around and latched onto poor, defenseless Rarity and fixed her with a wide-eyed stare. “Rarity, do you know what this means!?”

“N-no, darling,” Rarity squeaked, “W-what?”

“It means,” Twilight cried, somehow managing to sound both terrified out of her mind and thoroughly exasperated at the same time, “that if Verily Vermillion kicks Applejack out of the play, all of Equestria is doomed!”

In response, Rarity merely blinked, dumbfounded. “Are… are you sure about that?”

“Positive,” Twilight said in absolute confidence in the soundness of her logic.

She abruptly dropped Rarity to the floor before whirling around, thinking fast. “Okay… okay! We can still make this work!” she declared after a moment, delighted with her own brilliance. Perhaps, too delighted. “All we need to do is convince Verily Vermillion that Applejack is not a changeling at all and we’ll be fine! That way, she won’t get kicked out for being a changeling – which she won’t be – the changelings won’t rise up in anger at having their queen dishonored, and Equestria will avoid all-out war that will kill us all! All we need to do is find the real owner of Applejack’s pony form in the next two minutes and bring her here to stand in for Applejack for the entirety of the pageant! It’s foolproof!”

By this point, Rarity had managed to pick herself up off the floor, dust herself off while Twilight ranted, and then carefully approach her friend.

“Twilight, darling, please take a deep breath,” Rarity instructed, while at the same time placing a hoof on her friend’s shoulder.

The frazzled unicorn whipped around, indignant at the fashionista’s lack of urgency in this critical matter. “How can you –”

“Ap-pap-pap,” Rarity shushed patiently, placing a hoof firmly over Twilight’s mouth. “Deep breaths, darling; you’re having an episode. And what do we do when you are having an episode?”

Twilight looked at Rarity like a pony being pulled back from the brink. “We… we take a deep breath,” she mumbled weakly around the fashionista’s hoof.

“Exactly, darling,” Rarity replied with her best, winningest smile, which managed to drag a numb grin from the other unicorn. “Now… breathe in… and out. There you go.”

Twilight did as instructed, taking deep and long breaths as slowly as she could manage. And the more she did it, the more the fever petered out in her veins. Without knowing it, she found herself seated in a heap on the floor, feeling much more exhausted than she should’ve.

“Feeling better?” Rarity asked, proffering a smile.

“Yes… thank you, Rarity,” Twilight breathed. She closed her eyes for a moment, then picked herself up off the floor. “But that doesn’t change anything,” she added, biting her lip. She may be in better control of herself, if only just, but the problem remained unfazed regardless of what mental state she was in.

She briefly looked up, allowing her gaze to wander about the mostly deserted area. “How could somepony like Verily be put in charge of this pageant if she hates changelings, when everypony knows there will be one in the cast?” she asked quietly, sounding almost stricken.

“I don’t know, darling,” Rarity admitted somberly, glancing to the floor. “But I am beginning to suspect that it wasn’t Celestia who made that particular call.”

The lump in Twilight’s throat only seemed to get worse upon hearing that. “What are we going to do?” she asked quietly. “If Verily and Applejack don’t get along… The changelings from her mother’s hive might be a little upset, but what about all of those foreign changelings who haven’t been in the country long? If they take offense…”

Twilight shivered. She’d met some of the drones from the south – the ones that’d only started to acclimate to the way of things in Equestria. There weren’t many of them yet, but every week saw more and more of them passing their tests and being set loose onto an anxious Equestria. The rest were kept somewhere else, separate from Ponyville, just in case.

The ones Twilight had personally encountered had made her feel… uneasy, however. It was the way they’d looked at her, she thought; curious, but evaluating, as if they were visually trying to dissect her to her core…

Those were true changelings as everypony knew them; fiercely loyal to their queen and nopony else. So, if someone slighted said queen…

“Well,” Rarity mumbled hesitantly, shifting uncomfortably, “I don’t think there is much to do in the first place. Nopony would be brazen enough to mix up the cast right underneath the princess’s nose, not when she personally selected it. Miss Vermillion would have to have a very good reason indeed to ignore Princess Celestia’s decision, and as much as Verily seems to love her career, I doubt she would throw it away just to spite one changeling.”

Twilight had to admit that Rarity had a point. The panicky part of her brain didn’t want to admit to it, but a few more breathing exercises quieted the misgivings somewhat.

Celestia had chosen them, Applejack included. It would take a very good reason indeed to overturn that without consequence. But could that really keep Verily completely in check?

“I… I suppose you’re right. But, that still leaves –”

“Applejack!”

Twilight jumped up with a startled yelp at the sound of Pinkie’s voice right behind her. Her heart felt like it was about to leap out of her just from the shock alone!

Together, she and Rarity whipped around in a flash, and though Twilight couldn’t speak for her pearly white friend, she was on the verge of laying into Pinkie Pie the moment she saw her.

Pity, then, that she spotted Applejack first.

The apple farmer had just pushed aside the curtains – her hoof was even still holding them back – followed closely by a noticeably on edge Rainbow, who trotted into the backstage area alongside her. But of course, the first thing Twilight noticed was the apple farmer’s orange, fluffy coat and blonde mane.

Applejack had been watching Rainbow with a frown when Pinkie had piped up, which of course caused Applejack to look up towards her surroundings.

And right away, she spotted Twilight. It was as if she knew exactly where to find her, and had wasted no time in doing so.

She didn’t know why, but Twilight found herself suddenly tensing, her breath catching in her lungs. She could only stare at Applejack, and brace.

Applejack blinked, processing what she was seeing… and then she smiled. It wasn’t forced, or fake or… anything. It was just Applejack smiling, like nothing at all was wrong.

“Howdy, Twi’,” she called over. “What’re ya and Rarity doin’ over there?”

Alarm bells went off in Twilight’s head. The poster was still lying out in the open, protected from view only by the two unicorns’ bodies and nothing else. If Applejack moved any closer at all…

She didn’t waste any time, however.

With a flash of Twilight’s horn, the poster abruptly ceased to exist, vanishing with a pop before it could cause any damage.

At the same time, halfway across the castle, a very confused Shining Armor was dealing with a rather peculiar case of finding a large sheet of paper suddenly being stuck to his horn, much to the astonishment of the regiment of guards he’d been briefing.

“N-nothing!” Twilight cried, spinning around along with Rarity to face the apple farmer. “Nothing at all!”

Applejack paused, however. Her smile flickered, her gaze lingering. Twilight braced again, biting her lip.

But after a pause, Applejack huffed. Was… was that a laugh?

“Well… alright, of y’all say so,” she said.

She didn’t notice how each of her friends let out a subtle sigh of relief, Rainbow included.

“Sorry Ah’m late,” Applejack went on, at the same time walking towards the group. “Rose was bein’ a worrywart again. Did Ah miss anything?”

Twilight relaxed a little. The crisis had been averted – at least, for the time being.

“No, not yet,” Twilight said. “We were just about to start rehearsals, actu—”

“Well, well,” stated a voice off to Twilight’s left, “if it isn’t Miss Applejack at last.”

Every hair on the back of Twilight’s neck stood on end. Her entire body locked up on the spot. The only exception was her neck, which stiffly and inexorably turned her head towards the owner of that voice.

And there stood Verily Vermillion, and her gaze was fixed directly onto Applejack herself.

Twilight didn’t remember the director’s gaze being nearly that hard, or her ingrained scowl quite that deep-set. It was precisely the intensity of Verily’s gaze that was starting to bring back Twilight’s hyperventilation.

Applejack turned to look towards the red mare, and their eyes met. For a split second, something passed over Applejack’s expression, something Twilight missed before it was gone again.

“Do you realize what time it is, young lady?” Verily asked, her voice so low and slow it was borderline patronizing. But it also simmered with something that frayed at Twilight’s nerves even more.

“Ah do,” Applejack said, sounding truly apologetic. “And Ah am mighty sorry if Ah held y’all up. But Ah’m here now, and Ah’m ready ta be put ta work.”

Verily’s expression flickered, the corner of her mouth twitching. “I hope you are. We have some work to do, Miss Applejack.”

The severe mare then unexpectedly switched targets, her gaze suddenly darting towards Twilight, then Rarity. “Rehearsals are about to begin,” she announced loudly. “It’s time to get down to business.”

Her announcement completed, Verily immediately turned on the spot and strode away without waiting for anything further.

“Welp, guess we better get to it,” Applejack said, then turned towards her friends. She didn’t quite catch how they all suddenly straightened up, or how their smiles suddenly brightened. If she did, she didn’t take much notice.

Twilight’s expression was worst of all, but fortunately Applejack didn’t glance in her direction.

“Y’all comin’ or what?” she asked, grinning, nodding in the direction of the stage.

“U-um,” Twilight stammered, thinking fast, “why don’t you go on ahead? We’ll be just a moment.”

She ignored the sudden attention the rest of her friends was giving her, instead watching Applejack and praying internally.

The apple farmer paused, but then mercifully she shrugged. “Alright. Don’t be long; Verily don’t look like a real patient sorta pony.”

“O-of course,” Rarity chuckle mechanically. “We’ll be right behind you.”

All five mares waited in silence after that, watching as Applejack turned and walked away. It wasn’t until she’d vanished from sight completely that all five of them converged in a repressed state of panic.

“What’re we gonna do?” Rainbow asked, wide-eyed.

“If Applejack finds out,” Fluttershy breathed, panicky, “she’ll get so mad…,”

Twilight was silent, thinking as fast as her brain could go. But nopony missed the disconcerting spasm her eye was starting to develop.

“T-then we won’t tell her.”

Rarity and Rainbow both stopped in place and looked at Twilight like she’d just spouted off in Griffish. “Er… What?” “Beg pardon, darling?”

Twilight looked up then. Her mind was made up. Her options weren’t abundant to begin with, but what choice did she have.

“If we tell Applejack, she’ll just get upset,” she said quickly. “And after how happy she was on the way here… No, all we have to do is make sure nothing bad happens to her, and she’ll keep being happy!”

"Um, I don't know...," Fluttershy mumbled, looking very uncomfortable.

Rainbow, on the other hand, looked downright stressed. "Twilight, are you suggesting we cover this up by lying to her?"

Twilight fidgeted, her gaze dropping. “We're not lying... just... omitting a few things... Besides, do you want to tell her that our director hates her for no good reasion? How do you think that’d make her feel?”

Rainbow winced, but didn’t meet Twilight’s eye. “I guess…”

“It’s for Applejack’s own good,” Twilight said with absolute certainty. “As long as she has us looking out for her, nothing will go wrong!”

~~***~~

Rainbow growled unhappily, her scowl there to stay. Had she been playing any other role besides Commander Hurricane, it might’ve been a problem. As it turned out, her surliness went over so well with an oblivious Verily that Rainbow was left alone pretty much throughout the entirety of her rehearsal. As far as the director was concerned, she had the commander down pat, and was ready for the performance.

But Rainbow was too riled up to even care. All she noticed was every time Verily called Applejack’s name.

They were going over Applejack’s and Pinkie Pie’s first scene for the umpteenth time, it felt like. Verily kept feeling the need to interrupt and rag on the pair at every turn, exasperating the process. And maybe it was Rainbow’s imagination – though it certainly wasn’t – but it seemed like Verily always had something bad to say about Applejack’s performance!

And it was over stupid little things, too! Like she wasn’t ‘on her mark’, whatever that was supposed to mean, or she didn’t use the exact right word or some stupid nonsense. It was biased nitpicking and everypony with half a brain cell would know it!

Rainbow wanted to jump up and say something – or, even better, kick this stuck up mare right in the –

“Rainbow, are you going to be okay?”

Dash jumped a little, startled out of her thoughts.

She turned to find a lavender unicorn sitting right next to her, staring at her with open concern. Had she always been there? Rainbow wasn’t entirely sure; she’d been far more preoccupied with watching the stage for Applejack’s turn under Verily’s close scrutiny. And so far, it was turning out exactly like Rainbow had imagined.

“Sure; after we get a new director,” Rainbow grumbled sourly. “This one sucks. That’s, like, the millionth time she’s chewed AJ out for being ‘too quick’. The hay does that even mean?”

She felt the look Twilight gave her, but she didn’t meet it. “I only counted three, Rainbow…”

Dash flicked her tail dismissively. “Same thing.”

Twilight gave a quiet sigh, and the look on her face said that she agreed wholeheartedly with what Rainbow was trying to say. But her words didn’t quite match up.

“I know, Rainbow. But there’s really nothing we can do about it.”

‘Nothing we can do’. Everypony kept telling Rainbow that, no matter how vehemently she disagreed. But, for the moment, Twilight was – as usual – right, if only a little. Until Rainbow came up with a plan of action, there really was nothing she could do. So, for the time being, Rainbow could only look on while Applejack and Pinkie Pie had the stage.

Try as she might, however, it looked like Verily was having quite the time trying to corral the pink pony, who seemed to be doing her level best to be as Pinkie Pie as possible. That was worth watching, at least.

If Rainbow stopped and paid attention, however, she might’ve noticed the way Pinkie kept glancing between Verily and Applejack anxiously, and her developing habit of doing all of her lines directly between the two, much to Verily’s mounting frustration and Applejack’s bemusement.

In the meantime, Rainbow sat perched on an unopened crate like a grumpy buzzard, refusing to meet anypony’s eye. The lights flooding the stage couldn’t quite reach all of the little nooks and crannies off to the sides, creating plenty of places for a cranky pegasus to sit and sulk in private.

Rarity and Fluttershy were a short ways off, their eyes flicking between Verily and Applejack – and occasionally Rainbow for some reason.

Twilight sat on the ground beside the cyan pegasus, but she was staring into her hooves and not up at the action. They sat in silence for a time, listening only to their own thoughts and the performing ponies working through their lines. But the silence didn’t last forever.

“Twilight, can I ask you a question?” Rainbow asked suddenly.

Twilight looked up, taken off guard. Here she was, thinking she’d have to endure more grumblings from the pegasus for a good while longer. But a distraction was a distraction, and she welcomed it.

“Of course,” she said. “What is it?”

“What happened between you and Applejack?”

Immediately Twilight’s enthusiasm – what little there’d been – wilted. “Oh… that.”

Rainbow didn’t say anything further, but the focused look Twilight found herself subjected to informed her that she wouldn’t be getting off the hook.

So, with a sigh, she opened her mouth, and let the words tumble on out. It seemed to take forever, like each word was a small eternity in itself. And yet, it all came out in just a single, big breath.

It felt good actually voicing it; scary, but good. Of all the ponies in the world, Rainbow’s reaction was the one that worried Twilight the most. When it came to wronging Applejack, the pegasus had only a select few – often predictable – responses, and most of them involved decking somepony in one way or another.

Rainbow stayed quiet, however, listening intently without looking up, her expression unreadable. Even after Twilight lapsed into silence – finishing with an anticlimactic “and the rest… you know,” – Rainbow maintained her silence and stoicism. Until…

“Hey Twi’?” she said.

“Yes?”

Smack!

Twilight yelped, very nearly falling right off her stool. The sting of Rainbow’s hoof on her shoulder only lasted a few moments, but they were a stunned few moments.

“That’s for being an idiot,” Rainbow shot, her disapproving gaze now fully turned towards the recovering unicorn.

Twilight stared wide-eyed at Rainbow, one hoof absently rubbing her sore shoulder.

After a moment, Rainbow settled back down, and returned to staring sullenly at the rehearsing pair. She even bristled when Verily snapped at Applejack for being off her mark again.

“I don’t get why you’re still hung up on this, Twilight,” Rainbow said with a huff.

That sparked a little indignation in the unicorn, who sat up straight to face her friend. “And I don’t get how you’re not,” she pointed out. “Doesn’t the fact that AJ’s never been a real pony bother you?”

“Nope,” Rainbow said, and her tone of complete indifference actually stunned Twilight.

“How?” Twilight couldn’t help but ask.

Rainbow turned back to look at her again, only now she was frowning dubiously. “I don’t know. It just never did. I never really had to think too much about it.”

Twilight stared at Rainbow with no small amount of disbelief. The things she was saying just did not compute in the lavender unicorn’s brain.

But there was a small voice in the back of Twilight’s head; one that tried to provide some kind of answer. Could it be… loyalty? Was that all it was?

But the larger part of her brain refused to accept it. No, there had to be something else, something more complex; something she herself could possibly emulate and solve this entire problem before it got any worse. There had to be some sort of secret to Rainbow’s success beyond incomprehensible stubbornness.

Rainbow scratched her nose, averting her gaze from the increasingly uncomfortable look Twilight was giving her. “Look, egghead, I don’t know what to tell you. Applejack will always be Applejack, and that means she will always be our friend. Sooner or later, you’ll figure that out, too. I just wish you’d hurry it up and get with the program, already. I don’t know if you noticed, but right now she’s going to need us more than ever.”

Twilight gave Rainbow a brief look, then sighed. She allowed her gaze to drift back towards the stage; towards an intently focused Applejack who was taking her place for another take.

“Wouldn't it have been easier to use the door, Chancellor?” she was asking aloud, sounding dubious while pointing off towards an imaginary doorway. Despite the lack of the chimney prop, Pinkie was still balanced improbably upside down by nothing more than her bouncy mane alone. Not even Verily could quite hide how impressed she was.

“You’re right, Rainbow,” Twilight mumbled. “At least, I hope you are. I just… don’t want anything bad to happen to Applejack again, that’s all.”

Rainbow nodded in perfect understanding. “As long as she’s got us, Twilight, nothing ever will.”

Twilight couldn’t help but smile at her friend. Whether it was loyalty, or simply sheer stubbornness, there was no denying the strength of Rainbow’s drive. When she spoke like she did just then, it was very, very hard to be anything but convinced.

“Yeah,” Twilight said, still smiling as she turned back towards the stage.

But there, she couldn’t help but do a double-take.

Almost everything was as she remembered it being before she’d glanced away; Pinkie and Applejack were still going through their first scene together, with Pinkie declaring her impending brilliance and Applejack’s subsequent disbelief.

Across the way, some of the extras were watching as well – some Twilight recognized from last year, some not so much – all curiously watching the rehearsal while a few murmured secretively amongst themselves.

That was as Twilight remembered it being, and nearly everything else was… except for the stallion standing next to Verily.

Twilight couldn’t figure out where he’d come from. She couldn’t have looked away for more than a moment or two, and suddenly he was there. Something reflective around the base of his horn even glinted in the lights of the Great Hall, which was how her attention had been drawn to him in the first place.

But now that she was looking, she couldn’t take her eyes off of him, for at that very moment, he was whispering privately straight into Verily’s ear.

And for the first time since Twilight had first laid eyes on her, she was smiling.

The cold chill that ran down Twilight’s spine would probably be one of the worst she’d ever experience. But she had no time to bring it to anypony’s attention, because in the next instant, Verily dismissed the stallion with a jerk of her head, and abruptly stood up. Immediately, her smile disappeared, and even though her expression arranged itself into her usual scowl, it seemed to be several dozen times more intimidating.

“Alright, ladies,” she barked, and immediately both Pinkie Pie and Applejack faltered, caught off guard. “That will do for now. Everypony take five minutes, then we’ll move on to the second act.”

Something jolted inside Twilight’s chest, something she didn’t like at all.

“That’s odd,” she heard Rarity mutter in confusion. “Did I miss a few lines, or did that seem to be cut rather short?”

On her other side, Rainbow weighed in as well, only she had a note of suspicion in her voice. “Yeah… Pinkie didn’t even get to finish that last line. What the hay’s going on?”

Out on the stage, Pinkie and Applejack looked at each other, perplexed.

“Huh. I remember that part being a teeny bit longer than that,” Pinkie noted, sounding flummoxed. “I also don’t remember it ending with me saying ‘I’m about to be bri—’, either.”

She leveled a frown over one shoulder, just as Verily swiftly rose to her hooves, and without saying a word further or even glancing towards those around her, swiftly strode away.

“I don’t need a twitch-a-twitch to know something’s going down around here,” Pinkie said distrustfully, her eyes narrowing as she dropped her voice. “And if I don’t need a twitch-a-twitch to know that, something is definitely up, as well as going down, too!”

Applejack looked her friend over with a raised eyebrow, and then turned to glance towards Verily, worry flashing across her features. “Glad Ah ain’t the only one thinkin’ that,” she admitted, frowning.

She was just turning around to find her friends when somepony spoke up loud enough for the six friends to hear; somepony they’d never heard before.

“Miss Applejack, may I have a moment?” said a gruff voice.

The apple farmer halted, then turned back around, her confusion mounting. Before her, just over the edge of the stage’s platform, stood a stallion with a silver ring around his horn.

He was a slim fellow; lean and taut, like a piece of weathered leather. Despite his horn, it was obvious that he didn’t use his magic for everything in his life.

He didn’t seem threatening, but the small smile on his face didn’t quite reach his eyes. In fact, if Applejack thought about it, his smile seemed oddly… guarded.

“Uh… sure, Ah guess,” Applejack grunted.

As she stepped closer, she didn’t notice five pairs of eyes zero in on her like lasers. Pinkie kept glancing between Applejack and the other two sets of her friends still standing by the curtains, looking anxiously to Twilight, Rainbow, Rarity and Fluttershy for some kind of signal.

But it never came. The other four were too unsure of the situation themselves, but Twilight had her suspicions. Horrible, nasty suspicions.

All of this took place behind Applejack’s back, so she was oblivious to the mounting distress in the rest of her friends. Instead, she approached the edge of the stage, an eyebrow raised as she regarded Verily’s assistant.

“Is there somethin’ Ah can help ya with?” she asked curiously, looking down towards the stallion.

The stallion nodded in return. And even though he spoke softly with only one pony intended to hear, his voice seemed to drift to five other sets of ears on the wings of their worst fears.

“Miss Vermillion has asked to have a word with you in private,” he said plainly. His only other input was to raise one hoof and point straight in the same direction that Verily had vanished.

All five mares froze in place, doing everything they could to stifle their dread. In each of their minds, there was only one possible reason for why Verily would ever want to speak to the young changeling.

They were only distracted from their building unease when Applejack spoke up.

“Really? Well, alright,” she said, sounding mildly nonplussed. Then, she quickly turned her head around to catch Pinkie’s gaze, who had to scramble to compose herself. “Y’all sit tight,” she said. “Ah’ll go see what this is all about.”

Immediately Pinkie’s eyes shot open wide in shock. “What?! No-no-no, you can’t –”

But Applejack merely rolled her eyes in exasperation. “Pinkie, Ah am a grown mare. Ah can handle talkin’ ta somepony.”

“But, but—”

Applejack didn’t wait around for more excuses. She abruptly turned on the spot, and before Pinkie could think to say anything else, she’d hopped down to the marble floor below.

The moment she started moving, Twilight took notice, and it didn’t take long for real panic to set in. “Is she serious?” she gagged.

“She is,” Rainbow breathed, too stunned to move.

Twilight could only look on in shock. There was Applejack – oblivious, uncomprehending Applejack – heading straight into the teeth of the one pony she should be the furthest from at the moment.

But she didn’t have time to think it over. At that very moment, Applejack was moving in the wrong direction. And if Verily had called for her specifically…

With a sudden jolt of panic, Twilight disappeared in a flash of violet magic, startling Rainbow.

“Wait!” she cried the moment she rematerialized; parked directly in the path of Verily’s assistant and the apple farmer.

Applejack halted immediately, leaning back in surprise but not losing an inch regardless. “Twilight, what in tarnation are ya doin’?” she asked, confused.

Twilight’s mouth opened… but nothing came out. She floundered, suddenly at a loss. Just what was she doing?

Applejack caught on, and Twilight could tell by the way the changeling’s eyebrow was slowly creeping skyward.

But what was she supposed to say? That Applejack shouldn’t chase after Verily because she just so happened to hate her for no good reason? That her friends knew this, but had decided to keep that knowledge to themselves for fear of troubling her?

Yeah, that won’t upset her at all…

But she had to do something!

“U-um… maybe we all should go with you,” she said suggested. When she saw the look Applejack was giving her, she went on as confidently as she could, putting on the most enthusiasm she could muster. “Whatever Verily has to say to you, she can say it to all of us, too.”

Applejack gave her a weird look in response, but it was ultimately the assistant that spoke up.

“I’m sorry, miss,” he said gruffly, “but Miss Vermillion asked for Miss Applejack specifically, not ‘Applejack and her friends’. You girls will just have to wait until they’re done if you want a word with Verily.”

Now Twilight really started to panic. That’d been her one option, and it’d been shot down so cleanly. She knew that whatever Verily had planned for Applejack, it was something she simply had to put an end to. Nothing good could come of it. But she was coming up empty. There simply wasn’t enough time!

Think, Twilight, think! You can do this, you know you can! Just…

“Twilight?”

The unicorn jolted back to her senses, only then realizing that she’d started to pace slightly out of pure anxiety.

And of course, Applejack hadn’t missed a step of it, and now she was giving Twilight her most worried look yet.

“Twilight, what’s the matter?” she asked, all the while searching her friend’s features. “Why are ya actin’ like this?”

Warning bells went off in the unicorn’s head, and before she could stop herself, her lips were moving. “N-nothing’s the matter! I just… don’t think you have to talk to Verily alone is all!”

The more Twilight talked, however, the more she started to see Applejack’s expression shift. And the more she talked, the more she realized how much it’d started to backfire.

Applejack waited for Twilight to peter out, at least, but by that point, the confusion had given way to something else entirely.

“And now yer lyin’ ta me, too?” Applejack said. The sheer disbelief in her tone made Twilight wince. But it wasn’t just the farmer’s astonishment that struck home the most; it was the hurt in her voice.

Suddenly, meeting her friend’s gaze was one of the hardest things Twilight could do, but that didn’t stop Applejack from trying to hold it.

“Sugarcube, if ya have somethin’ ya want ta say ta me, just say it already and stop dancin’ ‘round the issue,” Applejack said. Her tone made it clear to Twilight that she couldn’t believe that she even needed to point that out to her.

It was that tone of voice that stung lavender unicorn the most. Out of nowhere, her shoulder throbbed in the exact shape of a pegasus’ hoof.

That’s for being stupid…

“You’re… you’re right,” Twilight mumbled, her voice dropping nearly to a whisper. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you upset, really I didn’t… It’s just…”

Applejack waited quietly, but some of the pain in her eyes subsided. When Twilight looked up at her, the faux earth pony gave her a simple, patient look, her expression too neutral to gauge. But for some reason, seeing Applejack clearly reserving her judgment for Twilight’s next words only stressed the unicorn out even more.

Twilight gulped, her confidence truly starting to wilt. But, she kept herself from backing down. There was no getting out of it now.

So, she forced herself to straighten up and meet the apple farmer’s questioning gaze squarely. “The… truth is, Applejack,” she forced herself to say, “I… We found out that Verily Vermillion really, really doesn’t like… you know… changelings. I’m sorry we didn’t tell you, but I thought that if we did, you’d just get upset, so…”

Applejack paused, her eyes widening in surprise. Clearly, that had not been the response she’d been expecting.

But Twilight had in turn been expecting to see Applejack’s confused expression dissipate… not return in full force.

“…That’s what this is all about?”

That response drew Twilight up short considerably. It hadn’t been, in any way, anything close to what she’d been anticipating.

“W-what?” she said back, hopelessly lost.

Applejack just kept giving her that same blank stare in return. “Twi’, Ah already knew about that.”

That one sentence was all it took to bring Twilight’s thought process to a complete, screeching halt. For an instant, she thought that she’d just imagined those words entirely. They just didn’t match with anything she could’ve expected.

“You… you knew?” Twilight gasped, all-but speechless.

“You knew?!” echoed a familiar, raspy pegasus voice at a much louder decibel, causing Twilight to leap in the air with a yelp. “But how!?”

That was precisely the moment when both she and Applejack became aware of the fact that there were four other ponies eavesdropping on their conversation right on the lip of the stage platform, and each of them was staring with unmitigated astonishment straight at the farmer mare; a cyan pegasus, especially.

Applejack held Rainbow’s gaze briefly, just before her frown deepened. “Of course Ah knew. Ah even told y’all Roseluck was bein’ a worrywart. Ah didn’t think it was much of an issue or else Ah woulda brought it up, since none of ya knew who Verily was when y’all were talkin’ about it back on the train. But it looks like Ah was wrong.” she said, a point to her tone.

Rainbow caught it, and immediately she knew what it meant. Twilight, however, missed the warning sign. She was too busy fumbling internally to take notice.

“Not an issue?” she repeated, trying to wrap her head around that one statement. “How can it not be an issue to be hated for no reason?”

She suddenly threw out her hoof, thrusting it in the direction Verily had disappeared down. “Whatever she’s up to, it can’t be good! We need to be there to make sure nothing bad happens!”

The moment she saw Applejack’s eyes flash, Twilight knew she’d said the wrong thing.

“Ya think this is somethin’ new ta me, Twi’?” Applejack said tersely. She didn’t snap, but it was clear to anypony looking at her that it’d taken a great deal of effort to keep that from happening. “Not all ponies feel like forgivin’ Queen Chrysalis’ behavior just yet; Ah get that better than anypony. But Ah also know fer a fact that Verily ain’t one of ‘em.”

Twilight’s jaw hit the floor. That last statement made no sense; none whatsoever. “What are you talking about, AJ?” she questioned, her voice rising. “She directed the worst anti-changeling play in Equestrian history! How can she be anything but –”

“Because, Twi’,” Applejack cut across shortly, her patience failing, “she’s married ta one.”

If Twilight hadn’t been speechless before, she was now. It made no sense; absolutely no sense whatsoever. On one side of her head, there was her constructed image of Verily in all her spiteful, racist glory, built out of the evidence she herself had accumulated. But now, on the other side, there was this piece of contradictory information; Verily, standing shoulder to shoulder with the thing she was supposed to despise beyond rationale.

This didn’t make sense; if it was anypony but Applejack making the claim, she would’ve dismissed it as a baseless lie without even a second thought. It just didn’t make any conceivable sense!

But as she sat there, jaws flapping like a beached fish, Applejack unexpectedly turned around.

And even more perplexingly, she was looking directly at Verily’s assistant, who seemed to be trying to appear as unobtrusive as possible.

“Clover, would ya mind showin’ her?” Applejack asked, her voice tinged with equal parts annoyance and apology.

The unicorn stallion – Clover – looked up at Applejack uncertainly, but after an encouraging nod from the farmer, he sighed lightly.

And as quick as a flash, his body was wrapped in green flames. It was only there for a second, but it shot up like a puff of fire from an afterburner for all to see.

In an instant, his dull coat was blown away. His eyes flashed from bright, almost neon green to uniform icy blue, just before the flames evaporated entirely.

In the stallion’s place stood a single – but irrefutable – changeling drone.

As the flare of fire faded, Twilight noticed something glowing around the base of the drone’s horn – something red-hot, as if superheated.

And there, clear as day without Clover’s mane getting in the way, was a small, simple ring of platinum, fitted perfectly to the base of his horn. It was only in that moment that Twilight realized what it was.

But as she ogled the changeling, Applejack’s voice snapped her back to attention, even though she wasn’t even speaking to her.

“Ah’m real sorry about this,” she apologized, looking directly at Clover.

The changeling was shuffling uncomfortably, avoiding what eye contact he could. “It’s no problem at all, Miss Applejack,” he said, though his voice couldn’t quite match up. “I need to start getting used to being like this now, anyway. Old habits, as it were.”

Applejack nodded, flashing a small smile… then rounded on Twilight, who still couldn’t take her eyes off of Clover.

“That silly play Verily put on?” she said, her voice hardening instantly. “It was Clover’s idea.”

Now Twilight was looking straight at Applejack again. “It was?”

Applejack nodded once. “A lot of ponies saw what they wanted ta see,” she said, “but the real idea was ta point out real security flaws right here in Canterlot.”

“I thought,” Clover mumbled uncomfortably, as if driven to speak despite the unwanted attention, “that if I came forward myself, the nobles would either ignore me, or spend too long lobbying to do anything useful in time. And… I didn’t want to impact Milly’s career, not when she was finally building a name for herself. Being married to somepony—or rather, someone like me could’ve ruined her.”

He then glanced towards Applejack, a tiny, self-conscious smile on his lips. “When it comes to helping Equestria, we changelings need to take… round about routes, sometimes. At least, until the trust is there.”

For some reason, Twilight found herself flinching at that last line. Trust…

“Thanks, Clover,” Applejack said, her tone almost too polite. “Would ya mind goin’ on ahead? Ah need a word with my friends.”

That time, Twilight knew exactly why she flinched.

Clover nodded obligingly, and without waiting another second longer, the drone changed forms again in a gust of magical fire, and was once again a stallion unicorn.

Twilight watched him turn and leave for a moment, her heart in her throat, before she finally forced herself to meet Applejack’s stony gaze. It wasn’t easy.

“I’m… I’m sorry, Applejack,” she muttered, hanging her head. “I didn’t know… I was only trying to protect you.”

Applejack sighed, her eyes pinching shut for a brief moment.

“Ah know, sugarcube,” she said, her voice stiff, “but ya went about it the wrong way by tryin’ ta cover it up instead of comin’ ta me. Just because everypony now knows what’s been under this here coat of mine doesn’t mean Ah suddenly can’t look after myself. Ah don’t need ta be treated like Ah’m a fumblin’ foal; Ah’d hoped y’all woulda figured that out after all this time we’ve known’ each other.”

Her gaze quickly darted over towards a particular cyan pegasus, who cringed in response. “Especially you, Rainbow. Ah expected a lot better from ya, of all ponies.”

The hurt in her eyes was almost too much for Rainbow to look at. Suddenly, there were a lot of places the pegasus wanted to be, and none of them were right there.

Applejack once more set her sights on Twilight, but her expression didn’t change.

“Ah get where yer heart is, Twi’,” Applejack said, “but that ain’t no excuse. If ya really were tryin’ ta avoid hurtin’ my feelin’s, then ya did a lousy job.”

As the last word left her mouth, her voice cracked. But with that, she turned and stormed away, too disappointed to look at each of them anymore.

Author's Note

Happy Holidays everyone!
...
... It's not the holidays anymore, is it?

*sigh*

The ironic thing is that because I'm out of the holiday season, this chapter actually ended up taking longer due to a change in plan. Originally, this was supposed to go much differently; Applejack goes to pageant, Applejack gets cut out of pageant for not being a real Earth Pony, Applejack finds a way to be a part of it anyway. Obviously we're departing that scenario.

And before you Appledashers start squeeing over the mistletoe, consider this; in flower arrangement, mistletoe means something along the lines of "I overcome obstacles", which is why Roseluck -- a career flower arranger -- might've picked that for somepony like Applejack, given what she's done and been through. The fact that it had holiday connotations was just a bonus she kinda overlooked the full gravity of. She's silly like that sometimes.
Bottom line is, she's not trying to get her queen smooched! I swear!

Anyway, on to the conclusion! Will Applejack and her friends make up?
...Considering how they act in the true sequel, most likely. But -- suspense!

Part 4

The Great Hall of Canterlot Castle was alive with commotion. On a normal year, the pageant could draw in hundreds, if not thousands of visitors and locals, all cramming in together just to see the play. Their voices would mingle into a deafening, mind-numbing drawl of senseless noise, charging the air with excitement and anticipation.

That year, however, there were even more than usual. Ponies from across Equestria filled the hall front to back, like every year. But this year, there was an entirely new demographic; a corded-off section encompassing nearly a quarter of the entire floor.

And it was jam-packed with changelings.

For many in the audience, this was their first ever time seeing the bug-like ponies, and in all honesty, there seemed to be much, much more of them than their little section should have allowed, like they were all sitting two to a chair or something of the sort.

None were disguised and most were made skittish by that simple fact and prone to ducking out of sight whenever they caught somepony staring.

Nopony crossed the boundary line of velvet rope. But that didn’t mean they were completely closed off from the rest of the crowd.

Stallions and mares sat just on the other side, across an auspicious divide. Even so, many were leaning forward, speaking animatedly or privately with a drone on the other side. Some of those drones were even sitting backwards on their chairs, leaning over to better see their partners, simply killing time as the clock ticked down the last few minutes before the show began.

High above the throngs, Princess Celestia sat in her regal chair, eyes turned not to the stage and its drawn curtains but to the ponies and changelings below. She watched quietly with a barely perceptible air of relaxation.

Of the faces she could see far below, the vast majority looked upon the changelings with only a sense of curiosity, either reserved or open. The changelings themselves, while clearly uncomfortable and nervous, were behaving themselves to the letter, no doubt the work of young Applejack and her lieutenants.

All in all, everything was going just as well as she could have hoped, if not better. It had not been easy, mind, but she was satisfied with the way things were progressing, for changelings and ponies alike.

Of course, the ones sharing the balcony with her weren’t quite as warmed by the sight below. They kept their conversations low and private, given whose presence they were in, but she was aware of it well enough.

But to Celestia, it sounded less like distrusting adults and more like grumbling foals who hadn’t gotten their way. They’d tried their best to exclude the changelings from Canterlot altogether – even offered some fairly poignant arguments to the matter. It was lucky they’d conceded just enough when they did, or else Celestia would have resorted to letting Luna deal with them. Oh what a sight that would have been…

“Good evening, sister.”

Celestia didn’t jump, but she looked around quicker than was called for, to find the very alicorn she was thinking of lowering herself into a chair lined with dark blue velvet that had been placed on her right side.

Luna hardly looked fully awake yet, like she’d just rolled out of bed. A mug of steaming coffee, printed with a festive design of snowflakes, bells and holly leaves, floated dutifully under her nose, allowing tongues of aromatic steam from the jet black coffee to tantalize her nostrils.

“Up late again, Luna?” Celestia chided, giving her sister a smile.

Luna didn’t react to the provocation – not yet. It was too early in the night for that. “In case you hadn’t noticed, there are a fair number of foals in Equestria, and they have been dreaming of tomorrow morning,” she said, her inflection carefully neutral. “As they have been for weeks now.”

Celestia turned to give her a knowing look and a smile to match. “Would that be why the stores in town have so inexplicably encountered shortages this year as well? And why you’ve been so busy with that list of yours?”

Luna didn’t rise to the bait… but her flush gave her away. “Dear sister, whatever do you mean?”

Celestia merely chuckled, and placed one wing around her despondent sister’s equally despondent shoulders. “Nightmare Night and Hearth’s Warming… At this rate there won’t be anything left for me!”

There was the smile she was trying to work out of her. “Oh perish the thought,” Luna said in good humor.

The two shared a private laugh, which nevertheless drew inquisitive eyes from their nearest neighbors on the balcony. The two royal sisters ignored the attention and once they were finished, turned their attention instead towards the distant stage.

The curtain was rustling – ponies moving quickly around behind it, putting on the finishing touches. Off to one side, Celestia just spied the distant shape of a baby dragon reading over his script one last time – though odds were he already had the whole thing memorized.

Luna suddenly speaking up distracted her again, however. “Will Cadenza not be joining us?” she asked, giving Celestia a questioning look.

“Unfortunately no,” Celestia said with a sad smile. “It seems some manner of important business has come up.”

Celestia was expecting Luna to give her a confused look. When her expression instead bent into a dark frown, it was she who turned a questioning look on her sister.

Luna tried to ignore her at first, but when her sister did not relent, she said with a clipped tone, “much has been weighing on her dreams of late, sister. Snow and things best left dead and forgotten.”

“Ah…,” lamented Celestia, suddenly fully comprehending. “And here I had hoped she’d finally let that matter lie… Curious though; I wonder what brought it on this time…?”

“Who’s to say,” Luna said with a shrug. “Her family was never one to easily give up on that dream.”

Celestia turned to look out one of the many windows, a deep-seated look of worry in her eyes as she looked out over the spires of Canterlot, past the mighty Canterhorn itself, and into the gloom of the night far to the frigid north…

Luna, however, watched the stage with more of a mercurial disposition. “Speaking of troubled youths,” she said, “how is Twilight Sparkle going to handle her own demons?”

Celestia turned to glance at her, then turned her gaze back to the stage. “That, dear sister, is up to her.”

“Ah. You always did love your tests.”

“Hmhm…”

~~***~~

“Ah’m tellin’ ya, this ain’t goin’ ta work,” Applejack pointed out.

“Oh come on, AJ! this is awesome!” enthused Rainbow buzzing through the air.

Applejack was hardly convinced, unsurprisingly. “Twi’, how exactly is this supposed ta be an apology?”

“Trust me, Applejack – you’ll see,” Twilight said while tightening the drawstring of her costume around her neck.

“And how exactly did y’all convince Verily?”

“Applejack, why are you so worried?”

“Because, Twi’, this whole thing is… just…”

“Try to have a little faith, Applejack darling. Consider it a… rehash of a timeless classic. Now where is Princess Platinum’s crown… ah! Here we are! Oooo, just as beautiful as I remember it!”

“And… yer fine with all this, sugarcube?”

“Well… aesthetics aside, I think it’s a lovely idea. A little unorthodox, but – Pinkie, darling? whatever are you doing?”

“… Aw, I thought I had it that time…”

“Pinkie, don’t take this the wrong way,” said Twilight, “but I’d be absolutely terrified if that thing did work. Oh! Found your… pudding hat… thing.”

“Yippie!” cheered Pinkie, changing gears instantly before cramming the hat on her head and turning around towards Applejack. “Oh hey Smart Cookie! Long time no see! There’s something different about you… waitwait, don’t tell me! You cut your mane! No! You had your coat dyed!”

Applejack just stared, at a loss for words. “Uh…”

“Teeth straightened! Definitely teeth straightened!”

Applejack didn’t even bother putting words to the stare she gave her friend now.

“Knew it! Oh hey, why aren’t you in costume yet? The show starts in, like, now!”

Applejack just blinked, then turned to look at the clock.

“It’s five minutes and twenty one seconds fast,” dismissed Twilight, handing Applejack her tunic and hat. “We’ve got a little time.”

Applejack accepted it, then caught Twilight’s gaze. “Twi’… Why are y’all doin’ this? What if it don’t work?”

Twilight just smiled. Not a nervous smile, or an uncertain smile. It was her confident smile, the one that she couldn’t replicate unless she truly meant it. “Don’t worry about that, AJ. I know it will, you’ll see. Just go out there and do your best. We’ll be right there beside you, promise.”

“… Ya know ya avoided my question, sugarcube.”

“What?”

“How was Verily okay with this?”

“Oh. I forgot to tell her.”

“…What?”

“Oh hey look at the time! We better get into positions!”

“Twilight, what did y’all just say?!”

“No time, Applejack! Positions!”

“Twilight!”

~~***~~

Music began to fill the Great Hall as the orchestra pit came to life. Immediately the crowds hushed. Conversations petered out, and all eyes turned together towards the stage in quiet, yet electrically charged, anticipation.

Even Celestia, who must have seen every rendition of the play since its inception countless lifetimes ago, found herself sitting up and paying close attention to the stage, right as a spotlight fell upon the closed curtain. Somehow, she knew today was going to be particularly special.

The lights in the Great Hall dimmed. Even the windows seemed to let in less light that normal, as if a pocket of night had inexplicably descended upon them. Torches burned lower. Lamps guttered. Nopony could have missed the shaft of light now striking the stage, just as the great curtains split open.

Spike stood revealed, standing by a fireplace crackling merrily with magical flames that emitted no smoke.

Immediately everypony recognized him; his purple outfit, the garish orange feather sticking out of his puffy antiquated hat. Yes, this was the narrator for this age old tale.

Spike wasted no time either, as if he’d been waiting for everypony to show up, not vice versa. “Once upon a time, long before the peaceful rule of Celestia,” he began, accenting his words with an archaic mannerism, “and before ponies discovered our beautiful land of Equestria, ponies did not know harmony.”

His voice echoed across the hall; those in the back rows would hear him just as well as those in the front. Twilight’s handiwork no doubt.

Celestia glanced down from the stage, and even through the darkness, she clearly made out what looked like ponies of immense stature in the crowd: fathers and mothers giving their children a boost to see over the crowd.

Nowhere did she see this more than in a corded-off section of the room apparently containing a small galaxy of blue lights, all dead focused upon the stage in front of them.

So far, everything was going according to plan, Celestia noted. But she didn’t dare relax just yet.

Spike was oblivious to all the keen attention he was getting. He stepped forward, right up to the edge of the stage, reciting his lines to the front row of ponies.

“It was a strange and dark time,” he spoke, “A time when ponies were torn apart… by hatred.”

For some reason, the way he emphasized his last word – and the resulting gasp that stole around the room – had Celestia grinning in amusement. Something about just how engrossed he was in his role struck her as rather endearing.

To her surprise, however, the changelings remained oddly silent. They blinked and watched, a congregation of ghostly lamps winking off and on here and there. They were clearly captivated, but unanimated like the other ponies. Were they trying to be on their best behavior? Or… was this motif not so unusual to them?

“I know, that’s what I said,” Spike huffed, shrugging, momentarily falling back into his normal manner before immediately getting back in character.

“During this frightful age, each of the three tribes cared not for what befell the other tribes, but only for their own welfare.”

Celestia cocked her head slightly, curious. Odd… normally the tribes were introduced before that line… Perhaps Verily had made some minor modifications? No… it had been generations since anypony had taken even the slightest liberties with the pageant in Canterlot. It was something of an unspoken rule; even telling lines out of order was somewhat frowned upon – not by her, by no means, but there were plenty of traditionalists who would look down on it.

So… what could be going on?

Keenly focused now, Celestia watched – along with the rest of the crowd – as Spike trotted off from center stage towards the right.

He really was skipping over that part. How curious…

“In those troubled times, as now,” Spike went on without missing a step, “the pegasi were the stewards of the weather.”

He turned and gestured upward, just as the curtains flew open with a hiss… and the entire hall let out a collective gasp.

For it wasn’t two pegasi mares dressed in traditional garb that they saw. In fact, not one had a single feather upon their gossamer wings.

It was two fully dressed changelings, buzzing high in the air, shaking a prop cloud as if trying to dislodge something from inside it. Both were frowning with quite convincing levels of discontent, and were completely oblivious to the stares they got.

And it only got better from there. Or worse, depending on one’s outlook.

“But,” Spike spoke, carrying on with the narrative like nothing was out of place at all, “They demanded something in return: food that could only be grown by the earth ponies.”

The background changed swiftly; a familiar painted backdrop of farmlands flew into place… as two cloaked changeling drones, laden down with hefty bags of produce, trotted grumpily onto the stage.

The two “pegasi” drifted down, noses held up high, and stuck their holey hooves out expectantly. The “earth ponies” glowered at them both, and then thrust bushels of beets, radishes and celery into their expectant grasps.

The “pegasi” took flight, buzzing away without so much as a ‘thank you’ or even a backwards glance.

“The unicorns demanded the same,” stated Spike, “in return for magically bringing forth day and night.”

And sure enough, a pair of “unicorns” trotted across the stage; one changeling who looked incredibly odd with a golden crown upon her head. After taking their dues from the “earth ponies”, one of the newcomers raised her head grumpily and ignited her sharp horn.

Right on cue, the sun hanging overhead whipped out of sight and out came the moon instead.

Now Celestia began to hear murmuring in the seats closest to her. The golden rule had been broken; the pageant had been altered. But that was small beans; there were changelings dominating their pageant!

Dark and saddened words flew around all around her; one would think the whole of the theatre arts had been desecrated with this one travesty.

As for Celestia… she was trying very hard not be overcome by an unsightly fit of giggles. Even Luna had that glint of mischief in her eyes and a forced neutral straightness to her lips that was quickly screwing up.

Spike, dutiful as ever, didn’t even miss a step. He trotted back out onto the stage, just as the changeling representatives for all three tribes went their separate ways, shooting loathsome looks over their shoulders at each other as they did.

“And so, mistrust between the tribes festered,” Spike said darkly, “until one day, it came to a boil. And what prompted the ponies to clash? ‘Twas a mysterious blizzard that overtook the land and toppled the tribes’ precarious peace.”

As he finished speaking, snow began to drift from the stage’s ceiling, moments before everyone slipped out of sight and the curtains were drawn.

Silence.

Princess Luna and Princess Celestia sat in their seats, wide-eyed and, for all intents and purposes, struck dumb along with half the audience.

And the other half… was carrying an electrical charge like a collective of live wires.

One pony whistled… one pony whooped… then silence beneath a smothering wave of anticipation.

“…Well now,” Luna finally mustered. “This is… unexpected.”

“… Indeed,” Celestia responded. “Indeed it is.”

~~***~~

In every way, the pageant proceeded just like it always had. Only, now every single part was being played not by ponies, but by changelings. And yet, that was the only exception.

Nopony could figure it out; where had all of these drones come from? And where had they gotten their acting lessons from? Pretending to be somepony else was one thing, but theater skills as well? Even the Guard was scratching their collective heads while looking on from their posts, completely at a loss.

What was more, they were playing their roles to the letter. No missteps, no mistakes – all flawlessly executed, as if performed by theatre professionals. Those with an experienced eye could tell it wasn’t just acting, but execution as well – everyone was on their marks, everyone was coordinated, no one was just going through motions – there was real investment into their roles, even among the extras. This was no last-minute change to the cast. And that left quite a few higher-ups completely stumped.

“… And so it was decided,” Spike finally proclaimed, “that a grand summit would be held to figure out a way to cope with the blizzard.”

Once again, Celestia sat forward in her seat, eyes on the stage. She had been quite enjoying herself up to that point, but now her ears perked up with anticipation. If everypony had been replaced with changelings, then did that mean…?

The curtains flew open, revealing the inside of a castle hall, a table at its center, and a balcony ringing it from above. All of it was perfectly familiar… save for the crowds of grumpy and argumentative changelings bickering in the overhead balcony.

“Each tribe sent their leaders,” Spike announced, a few seconds before trumpets blared. “Daughter of the unicorn king, Princess Platinum!”

The doors at the back of the set flew open, and in walked…

Every changeling in the crowd gasped in one collective intake – the loudest sound they’d made all night.

For it wasn’t a unicorn that walked out onto the stage now, dressed in a regal cape and crown. Nor was it a drone.

What walked out onto the stage had all the right hallmarks of a changeling; black, leathery chitin, crescent fangs, a razor sharp horn, hole-ridden legs – they were all there. But so was her silvery, perfectly coifed mane.

Celestia stared, and like the rest of the audience, she was at a complete loss for an explanation. That was quite clearly a changeling queen striding purposefully across the stage; there was no mistaking it. Only… she wasn’t.

No, Celestia realized only a moment later. There was only one pony she knew of who wore her mane quite like that…

That, right there, was when it all clicked for her in one great big revelation, a split second before the trumpets were bugling again.

“Ruler of the pegasi,” announced Spike, “Commander Hurricane.”

Lo and behold, in came another changeling queen, with a ragged, holey tail of sky blue. Her chitinous body was clad in dark grey armor, and yet Celestia thought she could just make out the bands of blue across her belly – a carapace that matched her vivid hair. Her double-ringed eyes flashed almost dangerously as she glanced around from under her helmet, eyes brimming with contempt.

“Commander Hurricane” buzzed into view on thrumming wings, and yet her body bobbed up and down, out of tune with the constant motion of her insectoid wings. That was the final piece of evidence Celestia needed to finally get a firm grasp on what was going on.

“Rainbow Dash…,” she said under her breath, utterly impressed. “Twilight, my student, how did you pull this off…?”

She almost missed the trumpets bleating out a third time, just as Pinkie Pie made her appearance, her jarringly pink mane and eyes clashing spectacularly with the dark blackness of her hairless hide.

Celestia watched in amazement as all three calmly walked up to the table, placed their hats, crowns and helmets onto the table, and proceed to have a shouting match that rang off the vaulted ceiling.

She glanced back towards the changeling section, critical of their reaction, but already they had settled back down. Apparently it was Rainbow’s voice that gave her away to them – it was the only explanation that made sense.

But now the question was… how?

~~***~~

Applejack watched apprehensively from just off the stage. Anxious and stressed didn’t begin to describe how she felt as her eyes flashed from the crowd, to the apparent trio of changeling queens throwing accusations at one another, and back.

Everypony in the crowd was looking on with a uniform expression of sheer dumbfounded amazement. Nopony seemed to notice the slight inconsistencies with the trio’s appearances, like how Rainbow’s fluttering wings were the only ones to be animated, while Rarity’s and Pinkie Pie’s remained motionlessly pinned to their sides as lifelessly as their garments.

Rarity’s horn popped and cracked with very convincing frustration, but it did so with her normal signature of blue light, not the acidic green typical of changelings. Rainbow’s and Pinkie’s horns didn’t utter even a single spark.

They weren’t actually changelings… but they sure looked authentic. And just looking close enough worried Applejack to no end.

Just what was Twilight and the other girls trying to prove by throwing themselves head-first into the crosshairs for every close-minded individual in Canterlot? Were they really that oblivious to what it was like to be a changeling in Equestria right now? She could endure their discrimination; it wasn’t that big of a deal to her. But what about Rarity, who dreamed of the high life? Or Rainbow, who aspired to greatness herself? How could they be so utterly reckless?

Part of her expected to hear booing and hissing start at any moment. Things she normally did her best to tune out – like whispers and furtive looks – were suddenly at the forefront of her awareness as she scanned the crowds. But it was so dark that it was difficult to make out anything, not counting the sea of twinkling blue lights in one corner of the hall.

She was so focused on what was going on out there that she almost missed the sound of a set of hooves trotting up behind her.

“So? What do you think?” asked Twilight’s voice.

Applejack jumped, then turned around.

A part of her couldn’t help but marvel at the creature in front of her. It was clearly Twilight; nopony else wore their mane like that, or spoke with a voice like that. But, well, she clearly wasn’t a pony at all anymore.

Two double-iris cat-eyes looked questioningly back at her. Her normally purple face was now jet black chitin, and arranged in a nervous smile. She looked positively giddy and embarrassed all at the same time, like a good filly doing something forbidden. If her wings had actually been real, Applejack could visualize them thrumming noisily – a little too well, actually.

“Honestly,” Applejack said numbly, “Ah don’t have a clue what ta think anymore. How Verily hasn’t shut this whole operation down by now is beyond me.”

Twilight winced, but hardly looked repentant. “Well, I can’t imagine she’s thrilled, but it’s a little too late for that… I’ll find some way to make it up to her, don’t worry.”

She glanced across the stage – passed the set and the trio of fake changelings still bickering and into the shadows on the other side. It was hard to be sure, but she just thought she saw Verily’s red coat in the shadows. Nothing more distinct, but right now, Applejack wasn’t sure she wanted to know specifics about her mood.

Yes, Twilight would undoubtedly catch tartaurus for this little stunt, but if she’d really been against it, Verily could have put a stop to the whole thing in a heartbeat, no matter what Twilight said. One word from her, a few minutes of a delay, and everything would be back on track. But that hadn’t happened. Why? Who knew.

Applejack glanced back towards the stage, just as Rainbow declared “I’m leaving first!”, followed immediately by Pinkie’s “No, I’m leaving first!”

“Twi, seriously,” Applejack said, using her best serious voice, “why are ya doin’ all this? Don’t ya know yer goin’ ta be the laughin’ stock of Canterlot by mornin’? What about Rarity, or Rainbow? What about all these actors and actresses? What if all of this backfires and we end up ruinin’ their lives? And how in the blazes are they okay with that?” She added that last part with a tone of complete confusion, more to herself than anypony else.

Twilight didn’t even blink. She watched as three of their changelingified friends tried to fight their way through a set of double doors first, enchanted snow swirling around their heads.

“Applejack, do you know what this pageant is all about?” she asked.

“Of course,” Applejack said without hesitation. “It’s about how ponies first discovered Equestria and learned about harmony.”

“Exactly,” said Twilight, waving a hoof. “Harmony. Three tribes learning that deep down, we all aren’t all that different, really. If there’d been more time before the pageant, I might have been able to come up with something better, but…”

Twilight turned towards her, right as the curtains fell, and the stage went dark. But even in the gloom, Applejack could see the gleam off of her friend’s eyes as she turned towards her. “I think that, maybe, this will be enough.”

Applejack shot her a look, then opened her mouth to say something in return.

That was when a different sound rose to reach her ears. Applejack blinked, her comment completely forgotten, as she cocked her head to one side.

That sound… it wasn’t coming from the backstage area. Or the front stage area, for that matter. It was coming from beyond, out in the Great Hall itself… from the crowd.

They were clapping.

Not a whole lot, no, but… they were clapping their hooves against the marble floor. It was unmistakable.

The smattering of applause lasted a few seconds, then faded away. But it continued to ring off of the inside of Applejack’s head for a long time afterwards.

“See?” Twilight said happily. “They’re starting to get it!”

Applejack turned to look at her with a baffled look. “Get what?”

“With things the way they are with ponies and changelings… well, can you think of any better story to tell?” she asked. “Can you think of any story that needs to be told more right now?”

Applejack blinked, right as three queens came bounding up to them, barely containing their voices.

“Oh my gosh, that was so unbelievably awesome!” Rainbow squealed. “Did you see their faces when we came out? It was so priceless!”

‘Queen’ Pinkie giggled hysterically in response. “I know! it was like –” and she gave a huge, theatrical gasp, which was somewhat ruined by the pointed fangs lining her mouth. “More maybe a little more –” another, smaller gasp with a deeper tone, “or maybe –”

Of the three, only ‘Queen’ Rarity looked even remotely royal, what with her costume. But even she was fighting back giggles. “I must say, these holes completely ruin this ensemble, but I do think I manage to pull it off somehow.” She looked down at her hooves and pulled a face when she caught sight of the floor through a hole. “Is a little symmetry too much to ask for, though?”

“Oh come on, Rarity,” Rainbow complained, rolling her eyes. “Can’t you just not be frou-frou for, like, two hours?”

“When you set aside being ‘awesome’,” she said, putting air quotes around the last word. Ignoring Rainbow's responding glare, she glanced over her shoulder. “At least these wings aren’t real. Considering my track record with fake wings, I’d rather avoid another faux-pas, if it’s all the same to you.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” giggled Twilight, glancing over her shoulder at herself as well, “They seem kind of nice.”

“Y’all would think so,” Applejack said sourly, her own – real – wings buzzing discontentedly. “Try sleepin’ on one and keep that attitude.”

“By the way, where’s Fluttershy?” Rainbow questioned, looking up over their heads and around. “We’re up next. She better not be hiding in the costume box again, like she was last year.”

“Actually,” Twilight spoke up, pointing over her shoulder, “Derpy should just about be done with her.”

Applejack followed her indicating hoof, and bore witness to what was going on behind her.

A whole group of changelings stood backstage – at least six, mingling amongst pony actors and actresses. As the group of friends turned, they just caught sight of Fluttershy’s yellow coat off to one side, away from the main gathering point. Standing in front of her was a smiling changeling, who seemed to be trying to placate her.

“Okay, Miss Fluttershy,” said the drone mare enthusiastically and with a big smile, “here we go! Just a liiittle boop aaaand…”

Fluttershy held perfectly still – perfectly. She didn’t even blink. She may have even stopped breathing.

The drone leaned forward, then carefully prodded her on the forehead with the underside of her jagged black horn, in order to keep the sharp end from pricking her. “Boop!”

A soft green glow spread over her body – not fire at all, but more like an aurora dancing over her coat, nose to tail tip.

A brief flash, and the light dissipated, seeping into her skin. And lo and behold, there was another changeling queen walking around Canterlot.

Fluttershy looked down at herself, taking in her black forelegs riddled with holes and her now-canary yellow mane. Her eyes were wide, equal parts astonished, amazed, and a little frightened. She even backpedaled a few steps before it sunk in that those hooves were her own.

“All done!” said the drone happily, utterly oblivious to Fluttershy’s panic. “That wasn’t so bad, right?”

Fluttershy blinked rapidly a few times, spinning in circles like a puppy chasing its tail. She then stopped, blinked again, and gave the beaming changeling a sheepish grin. “N-no, it actually wasn’t. Um… thank you.”

“Yeah,” shouted Rainbow, causing both of them to turn in her direction, “thanks a lot, Derpy! We couldn’t have done it without you!”

The drone turned and gave her a smile so sunny it was almost blinding to look directly at. “You’re welcome! Do you need help with anythi—”

“No! W-we’ve got everything else under control, thanks. Just… don’t touch anything.”

Derpy just smiled, and took a seat right where she was standing. For some reason, that made Rainbow tense with a hiss, and sigh when nothing further happened.

Applejack looked on, amazed despite herself. “Ah still have no idea how ya knew changelin’s could do that,” she said. “Ah didn’t even know that! Not that that’s sayin’ much, mind you, but still.”

“Well,” Twilight mumbled, fidgeting. “I kinda had help figuring it out. I actually thought only parents knew how to do it, and I only knew of one changeling mother… but it looks like a lot more knew about it than I’d thought. Which is a good thing! I don’t think Derpy alone could’ve changed everypony quick enough.”

Around the room, other changelings were helping extras get changed into proper forms. Some seemed hesitant to put themselves under the horns of the savage-looking creatures, but most seemed to relax immediately after they opened their eyes and found themselves sporting new looks. Some were even teasing one another, or running their tongues over their sharpened teeth, or staring wide-eyed at themselves in the mirror.

Applejack didn’t know what Twilight had said to convince the rest of the cast so easily. The moment she’d presented the idea, most had pretty much jumped at the chance. But she still couldn’t help but feel the absence of Verily, which worried her considerably. Either she was so livid that she couldn’t stand to see them right now, or she was up to something even more disquieting.

Applejack glanced over all of this, then turned her eyes back towards Twilight. She was grinning as she watched Fluttershy hastily don her armor and oversized helmet. She had to work for a moment to balance it against the fake horn on her forehead; useless, but hardly immaterial, it seemed, like the magic had solidified into a very convincing costume.

“Come on, AJ; lighten up,” scoffed a raspy voice beside her. Applejack didn’t even give the ornery “changeling” the benefit of a glower.

Rainbow was standing on her other side, looking like the most laid back pony-bug-thing in the entire room. “You’ve been all gloom and doom for a while now. What’s the big deal? Twilight seems to think it’ll work, and she has a pretty good track record with her plans. Uh, not counting recent ones, of course.”

Applejack rolled her eyes. “Sugarcube, y’all know full well why Ah’m anxious about everypony disguisin' themselves as changelin’s. We ain’t exactly popular right now.”

“Yeah,” Rainbow drawled, “but that’s because they haven’t gotten a load of me yet!”

“Oh good gravy…”

She felt something nudge her shoulder – something she didn’t immediately realize was Rainbow, simply because of the chitin-on-chitin contact.

“You heard them just now, AJ. They like us, really! Those weren’t just changelings cheering out there, you know. When you go out there, you’ll see. Trust me. Just… trust me, okay? I know this will turn out great. And that nothing we say will convince you either way, but… I know, once you see for yourself, you’ll figure it out. Just try not to pull a Fluttershy and tune them out, okay?”

It was hard to tell who was more put out by Rainbow’s careless comment; Applejack or Fluttershy herself.

“Speaking of Flutters,” Rainbow suddenly added, her eyes turning onto her acting partner, “we better go get into our positions. We’re up next!”

Fluttershy’s expression went from mild annoyance to startled terror in record speed. “N-now?” she asked, gossamer wings buzzing frightfully. “B-but I still need to –”

“Yes, now!” snickered Rainbow, grabbed her friend around the neck, and hauled her off before another word of complaint could be uttered. “Can’t keep our audience waiting!”

Applejack watched her go, frowning. What exactly had she meant?

~~***~~

Even as the curtains came up and Spike’s narrative filled the hall, the audience was anything but quiet. They weren’t loud or obnoxious, but there was a definite drone in the air of whispers and speculation.

In her balcony seat, Princess Celestia couldn’t help but ponder what was going to happen next as Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy – both resembling changelings to the letter – appeared on stage amid set pieces of clouds and pegasi architecture.

Again, aside from their appearances, nothing was out of place. Rainbow Dash’s depiction of Commander Hurricane was almost scarily authentic, and even Fluttershy’s timidness did credit to her portrayal. No lines were out of place, nor were their actions. It was all the Hearth’s Warming pageant, through and through.

So, Celestia couldn’t help but wonder; was this the extent of Twilight’s little stunt… or was there still more to come? She knew her protégé well, and this scheme of hers seemed just a little too… simplistic.

She couldn’t help but smile to herself, feeling oddly younger than she had in a long time. The mystery of it all was so very captivating!

The ponies she was sharing the balcony with were hardly so enchanted. Celestia soundly ignored their grumbles of discontent and disappointment.

“Has Vermillion completely lost control of this pageant?” they would say. “Just what kind of stunt is she trying to pull?”

“It’s tragic… simply tragic…” somepony would respond.

And yet, not everypony was complaining. Some, Celestia noticed, were quietly watching, sipping glasses of wine, a glimmer of amusement in their eyes. Not mocking or derisive, but genuine in nature.

At least some ponies weren’t so cooped up in tradition.

Celestia had become so embroiled in pony-watching that she didn’t notice when the curtains shuffled closed again, though the lights stayed on. Commander Hurricane’s and Private Pansy’s scene was over. And that meant next was…

“Excuse me… pardon me…”

Celestia cocked her head. That hadn’t been a grumpy aristocrat airing grievances.

She turned her head, and smiled at the newcomer bustling along the row, headed for a seat at her other side.

“Sorry for being so late,” said Princess Cadance, giving Celestia a sheepish look of apology. “Something came up that I couldn’t put off… Have I missed anything?”

Celestia had started to say something placating… until she said those last four harmless words. Then she caught herself.

“…What?” asked Cadance, suddenly cautious. She knew that look. Even Luna was looking at her with a twinkle of mirth.

“Have a seat,” Celestia said. “You’ll see soon enough.”

Cadance blinked, then sat down… just as the lights on the stage bloomed to life once again, and the hall went silent, the air charged with anticipation.

“Is Twilight up to something?” Cadance asked in an undertone.

Celestia chuckled knowingly. “Oh Cadance… you really have no idea.”

Confusion crossed Cadance’s face, just as the curtains lifted once more.

The set had changed drastically. The clouds, cumulus columns and pegasi statues were all gone. Instead, the inside of a castle hall appeared before the spectators, complete with bannisters and a set of double doors flung open wide, letting in a bitter draft of snow flakes and icy wind.

And that was when Rarity came stumbling in over the threshold, looking about ready to faint from her terrible ordeal.

And all Cadance could do was stare, hard. “I-i-is th-that…?”

“Wait for it,” purred Celestia knowingly.

‘Princess Platinum stumbled woozily into the castle’s interior, took a few more steps, and then propped herself up against the door. “Clover the Clever!” she whined, “I need you!”

And in trotted ‘Clover the Clever’. Minus a coat of fur, and a smile deprived of pointed fangs, of course.

Even with her hooded cloak, everypony could see the mare underneath, and she was definitely not a pony.

While the shock had lost most of its wow-factor with Celestia, poor Cadance looked like she was on the verge of a heart attack.

“I-is that…?”

“I do believe it is,” Celestia chuckled.

“But how did she…? Why is she…? Oh… dear. If Shiny sees this…”

“T-Twily?!” cried a distant voice.

“Too late,” chimed in Luna.

Celestia had to work rather hard to keep her voice down after that. Oh she was not going to forget this pageant for a very, very long time.

~~***~~

The lights were going down for the third time as Applejack stood apprehensively off to one side of the stage, trying very hard to quell the butterflies in her chest. Last year it hadn’t been that big of a deal; just go out, play her part, and try to keep up with Pinkie Pie.

But last year, she’d been a pony as far as everypony was concerned. This year… She looked down at herself – her undisguised self. Every soul in Canterlot would be looking at it soon enough – hundreds of eyes, scrutinizing the thing that, up until recently, had been her most closely guarded, most private of secrets.

Ponies in small groups, she could handle staring at her. But a whole audience who had nothing to look at but her? Applejack wasn’t normally one for stage fright, but at that moment, she suddenly had a whole new level of sympathy for Fluttershy.

Stagehands were hastily pushing set pieces off of the stage; a castle wall whisked past her without a sound. At the same time, a mare pushed a familiar chimney prop past her, moving way too fast for Applejack’s liking.

The table was next, and the double doors…

Applejack just focused on her breathing, but her legs weren’t moving. Every possible bad outcome whipped through her head, tormenting her like her own pack of Windigos.

Just… trust me…

Applejack steadied herself. She gritted her teeth. What was the matter with her? Was she really just some timid little filly? She’d stared down manticores, invading armies, even a demi-god. And now a couple ordinary ponies were going to scare her stiff?

She took a deep breath, stood up straight, and feeling like she was throwing herself off a cliff, she lifted one of her forelegs… and stepped forward.

The curtains were still drawn. There were no lights, save for the glow of unicorn horns from the stage crew. But she knew where she needed to be.

Applejack quickly and silently crept up to the far side of the stage, towards the double doors. There was no mark on the floor, but she remembered where she had to stand. At the moment, it was the only thing consuming her thought process.

Get in position… okay, good. Now breathe, cowgirl. Get those nerves under control. Y’all know these lines by heart. Just… just focus on Pinkie Pie and everythin’ will be just peachy.

The music was starting up, ramping up her pulse all over again. There would be no narrative to stall for time; as soon as the curtains went up, she’d be under the spotlight.

Applejack heard the scuffle of hooves above her – Pinkie Pie preparing to drop down the chimney.

The curtains rose – where were the lights? – and gradually, the lamps brightened once more.

Applejack could feel them. Hundreds upon hundreds of eyes, staring straight at her only recently exposed secret. Up until then it hadn’t been that big of a deal, but now… now it was.

In a way, she almost wished the crowd started whispering at the mere sight of her. But instead, everypony was dead silent. And somehow, that was worse.

Just trust me…

Ponyfeathers… y’all better have been on ta somethin’ this time, Rainbow…

In a way, Applejack’s moment of petrification aided her. She was so gripped by stage fright that she didn’t move an inch, no matter how much the morbidly curious part of her tried to twist her head around to meet the eyes boring holes in her side. She stayed perfectly motionless, and apparently watching the double doors expectantly.

Right up until Pinkie Pie came crashing down the chimney in a puff of soot and smoke.

Applejack jumped and turned around – momentarily forgetting where she was. But when she saw Pinkie’s pudding-hat emerge through the settling cloud, she remembered.

Line…

She raised a hoof, pointing at the door.

“Wouldn’t… it have been easier ta use the door, chancellor?” she said.

She cursed under her breath. Hopefully she’d played off that moment of hesitation as surprise, given ‘Chancellor Pudding Head’s’ unorthodox entry.

Something murmured in her ears. Voices – nearby voices, undoubtedly spawned from her behavior. No, she couldn’t pay them any mind – stay on task. Focus. If her concentration wavered, even a little bit, things were going to end poorly. She just knew it.

Pinkie, for her part, didn’t miss a beat. She turned her chitinous nose up, the picture of haughtiness. “Maybe for you, Smart Cookie,” she recited in an infuriatingly knowing manner, “But I’m the Chancellor! I was elected because I think outside the box, which means…” She took two steps back and shoved her head up into her impromptu entryway. “I can think inside the chimney! Can you think inside the chimney?”

It wasn’t that Pinkie was acting in character. Pinkie was acting like… well, Pinkie. It was for that reason that Applejack could focus on her, her line practically off the cuff. “er…”

“I didn’t think so,” ‘Queen’ Pinkie said smugly as she strode on by. She didn’t even care about the coating of soot plastered across her face.

As Pinkie walked by, Applejack turned to follow her, with her usual incredulous expression. But her eyes didn’t stay on Pinkie for long.

A yawning darkness beyond caught her attention – a cavernous hall filled with eyes. Lots and lots of eyes, all watching her.

So many ponies, all staring at her, expectant, scrutinizing. She couldn’t see them all, but she could make out the gleams off of eyes cast back at her from the stage, again and again off of a thousand judgmental eyes. Her mind’s eye, cruel as it was, was only too happy to fill in the blanks left by the shadows.

She could feel the breath catching in her lungs, her legs locking up. She should be better than this, but no amount of willpower would overcome it.

And then, just as the those eyes started to bear down on her, she noticed them.

At least two hundred more eyes – glowing blue, blinking and watching keenly. Applejack could only clearly make out the first two rows – that was as far as the lights from the stage could go. But each drone was watching her. Some were leaning forward, some looked like they hadn’t blinked in ages.

Some barely restrained smiles as they noticed her eyes flick in their direction. To them, she wasn’t strange. She was normal. Special in a way, true, but not strange. It was that, and that alone, that kept her in check.

And there were others – an old green shadow, a great red shape, a filly wearing a bow…

All of this seemed to pass under Applejack’s scrutiny within an hour. But in actuality, it happened within moments. Time only sped back up when Pinkie abruptly came to a stop, her eyes flying open wide in revelation.

“Oh my gosh…” she said, whipping her head to the side so fast it flung the grime from her face, “Hold on to your hooves! I’m just about to be brilliant!”

Line…

Everything restarted. She noticed the rapid thumping of her heart, the terrified jitter in her veins throbbing heat through her body.

Applejack remembered where she was, and time started up again. “That’d be a first,” she grumbled to herself in a private aside. The shake in her voice didn’t even vocalize beyond Applejack’s ears. She was proud of how steady she was holding herself up, but on the inside, it felt like she’d just gone through an earthquake.

And then she heard it. That sound again – voices hissing and sizzling in her ears. But they weren’t forming words… they were forming sounds.

Laughter… they were laughing. Not harshly, not scornfully. Humorously.

The sound didn’t come from just one side of the room or the other, either. Changelings alone weren’t responsible, but neither were ponies. Granted, the changelings in the room seemed a lot more mortified, but not all of them could keep their voices down.

Fillies giggled. Adults chuckled while struggling to stay quiet. It all united as a drone buzzing in Applejack’s ears.

Pinkie paused, letting the crowd have their laugh. Applejack noticed the unusual lag, and discretely glanced in her direction.

A pink, double-ringed eye was looking back at her with a look that so clearly said “See? Told you so”. Nopony else could have noticed – not that or the wink – as she turned back around, slipping back into character as easy as turning on a light-bulb.

“I have decided that the earth ponies are going to go it alone!” she declared, like she’d just come up with the greatest, brightest idea ever conceived by ponykind.

Applejack bent her expression into one of deep concern, like she’d practiced. She delivered her following line, like she’d practiced. And at the same time, she did everything she could to keep her attention riveted on the theatre and Pinkie… and not the countless ponies watching her with captivated interest. Not just changelings… ponies.

And above all, she struggled not to feel as discombobulated as she felt.

~~***~~

The act seemed to drag on and on, but eventually the curtains fell and the stage was swallowed by safe darkness.

But even as Applejack was hastening to get off the stage, a sound gave her pause.

The audience was applauding again – louder than before. Even through the curtains, Applejack could hear it linger in the air. It wasn’t just brave individuals airing their opinions anymore… there were too many involved for that at this point.

Applejack realized she’d been standing still on the set after Pinkie bounded up to her. “Soooo?” she asked, rotating her head impossibly far to one side.

Applejack looked at her, blinked, then said quietly, “They’re… applaudin’ us.”

“Aaand…?”

“They’re applaudin’ changelin’s.”

“Aaaannd?”

Applejack frowned up at the insides of the curtains. “And… Ah’m startin’ ta think that Roseluck… might have been on ta somethin’… Maybe Ah have been a little too… narrow-minded about ponies lately.”

She chuckled humorlessly to herself once. “Heh… go figure… bein’ narrow-minded around narrow-minded ponies.”

Pinkie looked at her, smiling. “Well duh!” she said, earning her a look from Applejack. “We all have things we don’t want anypony to know, and when they do know, all we look for is how badly they take it! I mean, if anypony found out my Super Duper Deluxe Cupcake Special Mark Eight was actually just a blueberry muffin with two layers of frosting, I’d just DIE!”

Applejack blinked at her, expression blank.

“So, it’s sorta like what you’re going through,” Pinkie finished, still obliviously grinning. “Minus one or two little things. But if you only look for the bad stuff, you’ll only see the bad stuff and miss all the good stuff! Twilight didn’t see it before, but now she’s trying to. So now it’s your turn!”

With that, she went bouncing away, once, twice… only to quickly spring back to where she’d been standing, still smiling bright as ever. “And if you tell anypony about my Super Duper Deluxe Cupcake Special Mark Eight, I’ll shave you bald in your sleep!” And with that, she went on her merry way, humming a carol to herself while Applejack watched her go with an incredulous expression.

~~***~~

Applejack trotted off the stage just as the stagehands went to work again, preparing for a three-way scene; the second to last of the night.

She moved automatically, dodging ponies but bumping into one or two of them as she went. She was only on autopilot, her mind a million miles away.

Her mind was abuzz. On most occasions, that wasn’t really a good thing, because it inevitably led to a long bout of stewing and running around in mental circles. It was all about as helpful as it sounded.

But when it did find something constructive to do, it would not be ignored. This was one of those moments.

Thoughts swirled through her head – some intelligible, some not. Some were just noise whenever her train of thought got too hectic.

The only thing that drew her out of her stupor was the sight of five familiar faces – distorted somewhat by enchantment, borderline unrecognizable, but far from unfamiliar.

Applejack paused, her eyes finally taking in what was in front of her properly. She found them all in front of her, looking at her… and smiling slightly.

For a good long while, no one said anything. No one seemed to know what to say, nor what needed to be said.

The whole time, Applejack kept hearing the echo in her head – the applause, the laughter and giggles… all given to her, a changeling.

At last, Twilight took a step forward, drawing Applejack’s attention. “Um… I know it’s not much. And I know it’s kind of strange to go through all of this, but…”

“No… no, Ah get it.”

Twilight blinked at her gentle smile.

“Ah guess… Ah guess Ah’m just not used ta lettin’ ponies see me like this,” she said as she diverted her eyes. “Or… listenin’ ta what they think of me.”

Twilight stepped forward a little closer. “And… we’re not used to seeing you like this, either,” she said. “I’m… kind of a case in point.”

Applejack glanced up at Twilight. For a second, she took in her strange appearance, and couldn’t help but see where she was coming from. If their places had been reversed, would anything be any different? True, Twilight would probably be a better fit for the title of queen than her, but that wasn’t the issue, was it?

Twilight’s voice drew her back to reality. “Hearth’s Warming Eve is about how the three tribes came together and overcame their differences,” she said. “It’s not just about how Equestria was made. It’s how we all learned to see each other not for our differences, but our similarities. With things the way they are between ponies and changelings right now, it wouldn’t hurt to remind everypony about what brought us all together in the first place. And… and that who we are isn’t skin deep.”

Applejack didn’t know what to say to that. None of the rest of their friends seemed to, either.

Twilight’s eyes flicked down to the ground – pensive, and a little reserved for a moment – before returning to Applejack. “I’m going to keep trying, Applejack. I can’t promise I’ll change overnight, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to give up. Even if it takes me months to… to see past what you are, I just want you to know that no matter what, I will always want to be your friend.”

“Us, too!” chimed in Pinkie Pie, bounding forward, sunny smile on her face as she bounced in place. All she was missing was some buzzing from her wings to be the picture of a gleeful changeling, but they of course stayed lifelessly at her sides.

“It should go without saying,” Rarity said, giving an elegant flip of her silvery mane and pretending quite convincingly not to pay attention to the rampant holes riddling it now.

Only one pony present didn’t say anything as she sidled up beside Applejack. Yet Applejack didn’t need to see her to know who it was.

Of course, while she was content with that, her other friends weren’t. Each gave Rainbow a look – Rarity arched an eyebrow meaningfully, Pinkie stared, Twilight tried not to scowl, Fluttershy discretely bobbed her head in Applejack’s direction.

All the got, though, was a scowl in return. “Hey, I broke my wing for her already. Pretty sure that counts for a hundred apologies, easy.”

The rest of her friends rolled their eyes in response. They were all so busy showering Rainbow with their disapproval that they didn’t notice Applejack still standing motionlessly in the same spot, wishing desperately for a Stetson to hide behind while she rearranged her outward appearance.

“Twilight,” she said, and suddenly all attention was back on her.

A simple smile was on her face. Not a forced one, not a careful one, or even a calculated one. There was no guard behind it, no divide between what she was showing and how open she really was being. It was just a smile, simple and honest. It didn’t even look strange with those accenting fangs and chitin.

“As long as y’all don’t give up on me,” she said, “Ah ain’t ever gonna give up on you. Y’all saw me for what Ah really was – saw this – but ya still stuck up for me, against yer own brother and the princess, no less!”

She took a step forward, towards a blinking Twilight. “Ah may lose my temper now and again, but… Ah ain’t ever gonna hate ya. So long as y’all keep your word, Ah’ll always meet ya halfway.”

Applejack flashed a grin at her. “That’s a promise.”

For one moment, Twilight just stared at her, expression blank. Then, for a more terrible moment, Applejack thought Twilight was going to burst into tears.

Her transmogrified eyes grew alarmingly misty, her lips pursing together. But before she could really start falling apart, Twilight unexpectedly lunged forward and caught her around the neck in a tight, slightly tremulous hug.

“Thanks, Applejack,” she mumbled into the side of her neck.

Applejack paused, then put a hoof around her shoulders. “No… thank you, sugarcube.”

Five ponies on all sides started making awing and giggling sounds as they closed in around the reconciling pair. But, just for a moment before the hug turned social, Applejack basked in the warm feeling in her heart, the strength surging through her legs and body, and the ones responsible for no small part of it all.

~~***~~

For the first time in countless ages, Princess Celestia could safely and wholeheartedly say she was enjoying the Hearth’s Warming pageant.

Not that she’d never garnered some level of it in the past; far from it. She was hardly that critical of a pony. But one could only watch the same old thing so many times before it becomes somewhat… dull? Predictable? Expected, perhaps. Yes, it had all become very expected. Muscle memory, practically. Ponies in Canterlot were always loathe to let things change, especially when it came to tradition.

She’d been around when the pageant was first conceptualized to pay homage to a time before even her. But after well over a thousand years, the play had begun to feel like hardly more than a motion she had to go through every winter; routine. Tradition might be a kinder way to put it.

But this year… she’d figured the surprises had all come and gone. Between discovering changelings, the attack, and admitting a new demographic into Equestria, the year had already been jam-packed with twists and turns.

Now this was simply the cherry atop the cake of unexpected events.

As she watched the rest of the pageant unfold and heard the reactions of the crowd, she knew that not all of her ponies were stubborn as mules. The laughter birthed when Commander Hurricane unceremoniously dropped Private Pansy out of her arms – when Princess Platinum forced Clover the Clever to ‘carry’ her across a trickling stream – when Chancellor Pudding Head stuck the map to Smart Cookie’s face – all of it was proof of the true nature of ponies and their kind hearts.

The ponies seated around her didn’t seem to share in the same opinion, of course, but she continued to pay them no mind. They would grumble and groan and completely miss the point of it all, and tomorrow they’d undoubtedly flood her inbox with outrages and heartfelt apologies, as if they knew her mind. There would be petitions, bickering, and a few political pouting sessions, but all in all, she knew she could bear the brunt of it.

But for the time being, she sat on her cushioned chair, and continued her new favorite game; trying to predict what would happen next. Surely Twilight wasn’t completely out of tricks yet.

On her one side, Princess Luna, ever the dedicated one, maintained a façade of regal composure, though her sister knew her well enough to see the glimmer of attentiveness in the back of her eyes. She was getting a kick out of this almost as much as she was.

Cadance had gotten over a significant portion of her shock at seeing a changeling version of her favorite sister-in-law. She still seemed out of sorts, and just one look told Celestia that she was still trying to grapple with the mechanics of what she was bearing witness to.

Shining Armor had had to be rushed from the Great Hall, if only to save himself the indignity of being the only Captain of the Guard to faint during the Hearth’s Warming pageant.

But it wasn’t until Applejack had appeared on stage that things suddenly seemed to make sense to Cadance, at least. The dumbfounded expression on her face slipped away, and a look of comprehension took its place, muddled though it was behind a cloud of perplexion.

“Are you starting to catch on?” Celestia asked.

Cadance jumped ever so slightly, glanced towards her, and nodded. “I… I think so,” she said mutely. “All of this… it’s for Applejack, isn’t it?”

Celestia smiled. “If I had to guess, I would say it is,” she said, turning back to look at the stage. “She blends in quite nicely with the rest of her friends, don’t you think?”

Cadance nodded numbly. “She does. She barely looks out of place anymore.”

Celestia looked out over the heads of ponies and changelings alike. “Doesn’t she?”

For the first time in half an hour, Cadance tore her eyes away from the play and turned a concerned pair of eyes onto Celestia. “I hope she realizes this won’t stop at just Applejack,” she said. “Something like this… changing the pageant to this degree… there’s going to be some backlash.”

Celestia seemed to consider that for a moment while, on stage, six ponies fled a vaguely pony-shaped apparition, its conjurer hidden behind the stage left curtains.

The crowd gasped as enchanted snow flurried over their heads, dissolving into particles of light before it touched anypony or anyone, despite a few fillies and colts reaching up to bat at them.

“Equestria has a long way to go,” Celestia said at last. “Though, maybe not as much as some ponies think.”

Cadance looked at her searchingly.

“There are wounds that need to be healed,” Celestia went on. “Captain Shining Armor and yourself should know this better than anypony. But ponies are not spiteful by nature. Sooner or later, these growing pains will subside. They have before. I think this is an important step, even if just a small one, whether Twilight intended it to be or not.”

Cadance looked at her questioningly. “Why wouldn’t she?”

Celestia smiled as the curtains came up, revealing the inside of a cave and three groups of confrontational changelings squaring off.

“She has a long way to go yet,” Celestia said, almost to herself. “But she has made considerable strides. Someday… yes, someday, she will begin to see how far her actions will take her, step by step.”

Hardly any of Cadance’s confusion had alleviated. But before she could question the cryptic alicorn further, an eruption of light bathed the hall.

Ponies all around gasped – even some of those grumpy nobles intent on having the worst time possible. All eyes turned back to the stage as something burst forth into the air above – a gigantic pink heart, roiling with tongues of magical fire and surging with a real heat that washed over the front rows.

It arose off of one small horn… a lavender horn.

As the light began to subside, the crowd looked on in awe as the fire of friendship illuminated the three figures standing together in the center of the stage; not three strange-looking changelings, but a unicorn, a pegasus, and a queen, all looking stunned by their change of fortune.

‘Clover the Clever’ stood as herself once more – purple coat, the brighter stripe in her mane immediately visible to Celestia and those on the balcony, no matter the distance. And nopony could have missed ‘Private Pansy’s' suddenly yellow coat.

Only ‘Smart Cookie’ remained unchanged, her black hide and brilliant amber mane and eyes immediately sticking out spectacularly.

But she didn’t seem to notice.

Even with every eye in the room on her – some scrutinizing and judgmental – she paid them little heed. She just stared up at the heart-shaped fire overhead. Then, she looked down, exchanging a look with ‘Pansy’ and ‘Clover’.

“What was that?” asked ‘Pansy’ in her diminutive voice. Not once did she look at herself, as if she hadn’t even noticed her transformation back.

“Ah didn’t know unicorns could do that.” ‘Smart Cookie’ put in, sounding awed.

‘Clover’ shook her head, eyes turned up as well. “I… didn’t either. Nothing like this has ever happened before.”

Then, she looked down, taking in the pony and changeling in front of her as if seeing them for the first time. “But I know it couldn’t have been just me. It came from all three of us.” Her eyes intentionally turned towards ‘Smart Cookie’ then. “Joined together in friendship.”

Far on the other side of the room, up above in the balcony, Princess Luna leaned in against her sister. “Perhaps you weren’t giving her enough credit, dear sister,” she whispered.

Celestia blinked as the narrative wound down. The curtains fell, and the Great Hall was filled to the brim with enthusiastic applause.

Author's Note

Kind of finished this in a hurry, so forgive me if there are some errors here and there. Going into overtime over here.

This one was kind of interesting to write, because for each of the pageant scenes I tried to make the lines exactly like they are in the episode, as well as the actions of I could help it. The problem is currently the only Hearth's Warming episodes I can find are bronies reacting and blind commentaries, so... picking out the dialogue over these fine ladies and gentlemen was a bit of a hassle.
So, I resorted to transcripts, and for the most part watching the episode to make sure their actions were just right. I fudged it there at the end, but I'm not too torn up about it. Forcing myself to follow the transcripts was a little boring, after all. Another thing you will notice is that, unlike the episode, I tried to have each group of characters do their scenes in one chunk, rather than flipping between them like what happens in the episode. Kind of hard to do with a normal theatrical performance. So if the scenes seem a little out of place, and if Celestia isn't pointing it out herself, that's why.

Anyway, all that's left to do now is tie up some loose ends, and fortunately that is almost finished, too. Most of you will probably see it in a few hours. Then we can finally call this dang thing finished.

Part 5: Finale

The pageant was winding down. Amidst the orchestra playing them off, the deafening roar of the crowd was almost too much for Applejack to handle.

And she’d thought getting back up on stage and singing the Hearth’s Warming song would have been nerve-wracking enough, being the only changeling on stage.

Twilight’s plan had worked to perfection, as usual. The illusions had all been dispelled at the exact perfect time while the crowd was still squinting against the glare cast off of that heart-shaped ball of purple fire. Rainbow, Rarity, Pinkie Pie, Fluttershy, Twilight and all of the extras resembled normal ponies once again, leaving her the sole changeling on stage.

And yet, she barely took heed of it, not as they’d started singing the chorus and the whole hall joined in.

Now Applejack was stumbling off stage, feeling like a live wire and grinning like a goofball.

All of her friends were smiling and boisterously carrying on, but none seemed quite as much of a nervous wreck as she was.

“Woo hoo!” hollered Rainbow, looping up so high in the air that she almost hit her head against the high roof of the stage. “That was so totally awesome! I mean, did you see their faces? They were totally not expecting that!”

“We simply must thank those changelings who helped out,” piped up Rarity. “We couldn’t have pulled this off without them.”

“I know just the thing!” Pinkie piped up, and without warning she was gone. Only a poof of dust was left in her wake, and the faint echo of ‘party’ hanging in the air.

“… Oh dear,” Rarity mumbled.

Twilight sighed. “I’ll go get her,” she said, then hastily trotted away. She knew better than to try to match Pinkie’s speed, so she didn’t bother sprinting.

That was the only reason she heard the voices as she rounded the corner leading deeper backstage.

“Do you have any idea what kind of a scandal this will cause?” shouted somepony – a stallion, by the sounds of it. “Changelings in the Hearth’s Warming pageant in Canterlot! A thousand years of tradition tossed to the wind!”

Twilight didn’t recognize him in the slightest, but she was more familiar with the one that responded.

“Surely you are exaggerating,” said Verily Vermillion. “Or perhaps I misinterpreted the applause earlier.”

“That has no bearing on this situation!” bellowed the other.

By now, Twilight had slowed to a halt, her head turning towards the source of that commotion.

Just a few feet away along the dark wooden hallway, a door was ajar. The light of a lamp flooded out of it, cutting a bright orange line across the oak paneling.

The door was just open wide enough for Twilight to just make out a set of angular crimson flanks, a section of what could have been a table, and little else. Whoever Verily was speaking to, he was just out of sight, but definitely not out of earshot.

“How could you let your own play get so far out of hoof?” he shot angrily. “Queen Applejack and her agenda were not commissioned to run the pageant – you were! And you failed spectacularly at it!”

Heat boiled up inside Twilight. Thought about what she was doing waited politely by the wayside as she turned around, stormed up to the door, and knocked it open harshly.

“Hey!” she shouted, completely stunning the two ponies inside.

Verily was present, looking at Twilight with wide-eyed surprise. And yet the temperamental unicorn was in no mood to appreciate it. The focus of her attention was standing almost nose-to-nose with the director. Or, at least trying to.

The stallion was a short, pudgy pony, who looked more like a hog masquerading as a stallion. His mane was short, though probably not by grooming choice; most of it was delegated to a spectacular and rather garish comb-over, clashing pink mane against dusky blue fur. He probably thought it made him look posh, but in reality it only drove home the image of a pig playing dress-up only further.

He was short of limb, had a double chin so extensive it almost rendered his head and shoulders one amorphous unit, and jowls so flabby they jiggled with even the smallest of head movements. They were still wobbling as Twilight stormed into view, his tiny eyes wide with surprise.

“Applejack had nothing to do with it,” she shot. “I did! So if you have something to say, say it to my face!”

The stallion blinked. For a moment, it seemed to dawn on him who he was now confronted with – or rather, the whose student. A look of disbelief crossed his pudgy face, before just as quickly darkening into a scowl.

“That still does not change the fact that this director failed to do her duty,” he said gruffly. “And my theatrical group has no place for ponies who don’t do their job.”

Twilight’s jaw hit the floor. “You’re firing her?! But you can’t –”

“Miss Sparkle. That is enough.”

Twilight’s response died in her throat, her eyes turning to the one that had spoken; Verily herself.

Nothing showed through her façade again. She merely gave Twilight her usual blunt stare, as if she wasn’t the center of such career-ending accusations.

“But –”

“I said enough,” Verily reiterated. Then, she turned back to the stallion, who met her look with a sour glare of disappointment. “I’m sorry you feel that way,” she said.

That was it. No argument, no protest. Nothing. Twilight could only stare in stunned disbelief.

Even the stallion looked her up and down, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. “As am I,” he said, and without anything further, he pushed passed Twilight and lumbered out of the room and down the hall.

Verily just watched him go, letting nothing slip. Twilight, on the other hand, looked at her with deep sympathy.

“I’m… I’m so sorry, Verily,” she said quietly. “I didn’t mean to get you fired.”

Verily didn’t seem to hear her. She just stood there. Was she in shock?

Then, with noticeable slowness, she turned to look at Twilight. “Odd.”

Twilight blinked at her. “Odd? What’s odd?”

Verily wasn’t looking at her. Well, technically she was, but her gaze seemed to pierce straight through her entirely.

“Mister Bull Market was right. I could have exercised some control over the pageant if I felt like it. It would have saved my career. And yet… I didn’t. But that’s not the truly odd thing.”

Her eyes focused slightly – she was looking at Twilight now, even if the rest of her expression seemed vacant. “I was just fired. My life as a director is over. Bull Market will see to it that I never see the inside of a theater again, not after humiliating him and his troupe like this. And yet… I don’t feel sad.”

Twilight gave her a confused look. “You don’t?”

“No,” Verily said, and in her tone, Twilight could hear the faintest trace of confusion, uncertainty. “I just watched my life’s work walk out that door with Bull… and I don’t feel a thing. Why?”

Twilight looked at her, but didn’t say anything right away. What could she say? It took her a moment to find just that.

“You know… success is good. Having all sorts of money and reputation for your family is great. But… what about happiness?”

Verily looked at her. “What do you mean?”

“You know… happiness,” Twilight said, flailing slightly. “You have the love of your life and a daughter you’re crazy about… but you keep yourself distant so that you could give them what they need. What if what they need is… you?”

Verily just stared at her, her expression blank. It was like she hadn’t heard a word Twilight had said.

So intent was her stare that Twilight ended up having to look away. “It’s probably silly, I know, but… maybe it’s something to think about.”

Verily still was despondent. For the longest time she just stared, seemingly at a complete loss for words. Then… “I seem to have underestimated you, Twilight Sparkle.”

Twilight looked up, and saw something she thought she’d never see in her entire life; a smile on her face. Not a clipped and polite one either; this one had the makings of authenticity.

“Perhaps… you are right. Perhaps you’re not, but… it is something to think over regardless.”

She took a step closer, heading for the door as she passed Twilight. “You are a clever pony, Miss Sparkle. Even if things have not gone according to plan… it was a pleasure seeing you and your friends perform. If you would excuse – oh!”

That last sound was so unexpected and uncharacteristic of the severe mare that Twilight actually jumped and turned around. But right away, she found the cause of Verily’s alarm.

“Miss Vermillion,” said Princess Celestia herself, her regal form taking up the entire doorway from top to bottom. “I was hoping I could have a word.”

If she hadn’t said that with a warm smile, it would have been so easy to take her words as a bad thing.

“O-of course, Your Highness,” Verily said quickly, stepping back to allow her new guest into the room.

Celestia obliged, flashing Twilight a smile and a wink as she passed, but otherwise remaining focused on Verily.

“I wish to commend you on your performance tonight,” she said.

“You do?” Verily asked, sounding slightly stunned.

“Of course,” Celestia said kindly. “My sister and I thoroughly enjoyed your rendition of the Hearth’s Warming pageant, as did most of our guests tonight. May I have a seat?”

“Most certainly,” Verily said hastily, sounding stunned that Celestia would even ask such a thing.

“Thank you,” Celestia said, and was seated. “I am sure you have plans for tonight, so I won’t be long. I wished to discuss some opportunities for the future.”

“Oh,” Verily said, sitting rather stiffly. “I am flattered, to be sure, but it appears my boss was less-than pleased with my performance tonight. I am afraid he fired me.”

Celestia raised an eyebrow over her smile. “But I haven’t,” she said meaningfully.

While Verily stared in complete shock, Twilight quietly excused herself from the proceedings, smiling to herself as she trotted away.

~~***~~

The night went on from there without a hitch. As Twilight had predicted, the group went through several more plays that night until the sun had long-since gone to sleep.

And of course, by royal command no less, every play was done by changelings. Or so it seemed. Each time was as big a hit was the first – as much as it was a disappointment for the nobility. By the third and final show, most of the VIP balcony was empty, save for some more open-minded individuals.

The critiques would likely be non-too pleased, and the newspapers in the morning would condemn the whole thing as some power-play by Queen Applejack and her hordes of minions, but those who had been there would know better. And word would get out, bit by bit.

But for six mares and one baby dragon, the turning cogs of the world stage were the furthest thing from their minds.

“I’m beat,” groaned Rainbow, falling halfway over the armrest of a chair. They had all retired to Twilight’s old bedroom at last.

Twilight saw the change the moment she’d walked through the door; two sets of bunk beds sat perfectly in place around hers, as if they’d been there the whole time.

Cakes and all manner of confectionary treats all sat piled on a table in the center of the room, which the exhausted group gravitated towards.

“I swear I’m going to be saying those lines in my sleep,” Rarity whined, all the while filling a glass of red punch.

Applejack said nothing – she was too busy stuffing a cupcake in her mouth.

Only Pinkie bounced off the walls still, defying any attempt by the rules of nature to wear her down. “Woo hoo! After Pageant Party!”

“Pinkie,” said Twilight, “could we maybe have a party that’s just a little more low key?”

Pinkie paused for a moment – having just literally run a streamer along the crossbeams holding up the roof – and thought to herself.

“But Twilight,” she complained, “there’s, like, so much we have to celebrate, like Hearth’s Warming Eve, putting on the Hearth’s Warming pageant, putting on the Hearth’s Warming pageant as changelings, being changelings for a while, making up with Applejack –”

“I know, Pinkie,” Twilight said understandingly. She even got up and put a hoof on her shoulder, “Why don’t we do all of that tomorrow and have a slumber party now?”

The thought hadn’t occurred to Pinkie, clearly. “And we’re having a slumber party?!” she gasped, looking beside herself. “Why didn’t anypony tell me?! That’s, like, a whole different setup, and –”

“Pinkie.”

“Oh alright,” Pinkie pouted, then immediately rebounded. “One slumber party a la Hearth’s Warming Eve, coming right up!”

And she was off again, singing carols to herself as she tore down streamers and bunting and replaces them with wreaths and holly. Where she’d gotten any of that was a mystery Twilight was too tired to think about.

She just flopped down onto a cushion next to the crackling fireplace, along with the rest of her friends. There, she glanced over to one side, towards Applejack.

The changeling was lying on her side, warming her black belly by the fire, Fully engaged with a talkative Apple Bloom. She just smiled and laughed as Apple Bloom recanted every event in the pageant like her big sister had had no part in it whatsoever.

“She hasn’t changed back, you know.”

Twilight jumped, then glanced to one side. Rarity was there, leaning a little more towards her to keep their conversation private. At the same time, she fluffed a pillow with her magic, daintily sipping punch while she worked.

“What do you mean?” Twilight asked.

“Applejack,” she said, glancing her way. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d almost think she didn’t mind looking like herself anymore.”

Twilight followed Rarity’s gaze.

It was clear that Applejack was exhausted. While Apple Bloom bounced and bounded around, she didn’t budge an inch from her cozy cushion and warm place by the fire. Perhaps that was an explanation for why she still remained in her natural form.

Or maybe she just hadn’t noticed yet. Twilight couldn’t help but smile at that idea.

“You seem to be doing better, yourself,” Rarity added.

That comment caught Twilight by surprise. She looked at her, perplexed. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you haven’t given Applejack a single strange look since we started performing,” she said. She placed the pillow in the optimal place by the fire, and then gracefully lowered herself onto it with a relieved sigh. “Oooh, my neck is killing me. That crown didn’t feel all that heavy, but give it a few hours… Oh, I suspect a trip to the Day Spa will be in order.”

Twilight couldn’t help but agree, but silently. She didn’t feel like telling her friend that her back was killing her from the white unicorn riding on her across a fake stream three times. There was no possible way she'd take that well.

“Alright, everypony!” hollered Pinkie, catching them all by surprise. “Present time!”

Everyone in the room lifted their heads, looking around curiously.

Pinkie Pie was standing at one side of the room – a side dominated by a huge fur tree covered so heavily in decorations it was hard to find a single patch of bare needles anywhere on it. Everything imaginable hung from its many branches; from Candy Canes, bells, colorful balls, snowponies, at least two dozen representations of Father Warm Hearth, tinsel, fake snow and more strings of light than seemed feasible. When and how it had gotten there was a mystery Twilight would never know, though she suspected the castle staff had a hoof or two in it.

Underneath the tree was a pile of presents, all wrapped in bright paper with brighter bows and cards denoting who they belonged to. Some were small. Others, rather large.

Already Pinkie was fishing through the pile happily, sorting through presents at blinding speed. “Okay, let’s see here… Rainbow! Here you go… Applejack! Heeeree… Rarity! Uuum… Twilight! Applejack, Applejack, Fluttershy – oh, one for me! – Applejack, Rainbow, Spike, Applejack, Twilight, Applejack…”

Several ponies in the room started arching an eyebrow. “Uh… Pinkie?”

“Applejack, Applejack, Lady Applejack – Rarity! Okay, um… Applejack, Applejack… The letter ‘crown’…”

Rainbow exchanged a look with a rather mortified apple farmer, who was busily trying to hide her expression.

“Hey!” declared Pinkie at long last. “Wait a gosh dog minute here!”

“Um, Pinkie –”

“We don’t even have a ‘Your Highness’ here!” she said, frowning fiercely, much to the chagrin of some. Abruptly, she turned around, looking at all of them. “Who’d name a foal something like that? Don’t you worry, girls! I’ll get to the bottom of this!”

And with that, she bolted from the room, hot on the trail of this ‘Your Highness’, whoever she or he might be.

At that moment, ‘Your Highness’ was, in fact, trying to will herself to disappear into thin air.

…

“Ah’m gonna kill Rose…”

~~***~~

It took Pinkie nearly half an hour to get back, and by then the group had sorted through their presents and picked the one they wished to open. One before bed, of course. Even Apple Bloom had one – a small orange package from Granny Smith.

The hardest part had been finding one Applejack would agree to. Anything from the changelings turned her so scarlet with embarrassment she could barely say anything – much to the amusement of Rainbow.

“How about this one?” Rainbow asked, waving a new rectangular box with a wicked grin.

“Mm-mm,” Applejack said, turned the other way.

“You aren’t even looking!”

“And y’all ain’t even tryin’!”

“Okay, fine,” Rainbow finally said, a hint of irritation in her voice. “Last try. Here.”

This time, Applejack wasn’t given an option. Before she could object, something was pushed on top of her resting hooves and quickly released.

She was about to object… when she realized what it was.

A small rectangular box sat on her knees, though it had been splattered with mud and had become savagely crooked. The shape of a hoof was clearly visible on the wrapping for all to see.

Applejack stared at it, mute for a moment… then she raised a hoof and claimed it. “Fine,” she grunted.

That was when Pinkie burst in.

“Applejack, Applejack!” she cried, looking horrified and stunned, and generally a complete mess.

“What?” Applejack asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“I don’t mean to alarm you or anything…”

“Okay…”

“So don’t panic.”

“Okay…”

“I mean it! Just… deep breaths, okay?”

“Pinkie, what’s goin’ on?” she asked, exasperated.

“Okay,” Pinkie said nervously, “but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Applejack waited patiently.

“It turns out… You are ‘Your Highness’.” And then she braced.

Applejack just blinked at her. “Uh… pretty sure Ah already knew that.”

Pinkie cracked open an eye. “You did?”

Applejack’s answer was to tap the crown atop her head. “Pretty sure. Now would ya kindly calm down fer a few minutes so we can get on with this?”

Rainbow just shook her head. “Pinkie, the next time you see something like that… just ask, okay?”

Pinkie scratched her head, then flopped down on a pillow, present in hoof. “Alright then! On you mark!”

Twilight looked around, startled. “W-wait, Pinkie.”

“Get seeeet.”

Rainbow had her hoof on the top of her present, tongue peeking out the corner of her mouth as she tensed.

“Do we really have to –” started Rarity disparagingly, only to be cut off by Pinkie shouting “GO!”

Immediately paper started to fly. Pinkie and Rainbow tore into their presents like fevered animals, sending bits and pieces of paper and ribbon everywhere.

Rarity looked on with an expression of pure horror, Twilight slightly less so, and Fluttershy stared and uttered a small “oh… my…”

Applejack, on the other hoof, didn’t bat an eyelash.

While the two ripped into their presents and rapidly revealed what was inside, she carefully scrutinized her own parcel. While Rainbow and Pinkie argued over who got to theirs first, Applejack carefully bit one of the ends of the ribbon tied around the box, pried it loose, and then bit off a corner of the paper.

The friendly argument between Rainbow and Pinkie quickly faded from her attention as she peeled back the crinkly paper, ripping it down the middle and tearing off the upper half. Underneath, a small cardboard box sat waiting for her, one end horribly deformed by the blow it had sustained.

Applejack regarded it for a moment, then carefully took hold of the top half of the box, and pulled up.

The top came off completely, with a little tugging thanks to the bent and uneven part. Inside, she found a nest of green, red and white paper, nestled around a broken necklace.

It was a simple thing, and woefully too small for Applejack’s neck, made from countless varieties of colorful glass beads. Quite a few of them, however, had been cracked, or even completely smashed to pieces under the hateful stallion’s hoof.

But the pendant remained unscathed. It looked like an oak leaf, except it shined as if made of glass. It was wrapped around something, formed to the shape of a crystal topaz shard at least two inches long.

Applejack had seen these before, in one shape or another. A crystal – sometimes emeralds, sometimes rubies, but quite a few topazes from what she remembered – wrapped by some kind of leaf – oak, maple, bunches of holly, even juniper sprigs, whatever seemed handy at the time. What they symbolized, she could not say – she doubted even their makers knew exactly what they meant anymore. But the fact that a foal no older than Apple Bloom would go through such trouble to make something like this…

The room had become awfully quiet. Applejack suddenly became distinctly aware of this, and looked up.

Everypony was looking at her and her gift. Rarity was eying the state of it with a sad expression, like a dear friend that had just passed away. Pinkie watched the glint of the gemstone, clearly fascinated. Fluttershy examined the whole thing from afar, blinking with curiosity. Twilight glanced between the gift and Applejack, fighting back a frown as she remembered what had caused it to be in such a state.

Only Rainbow looked directly at her, searching, careful, her argument and boasting completely forgotten.

Applejack just smiled at her in reassurance, then looked back down at the sad state of her present. “Ah bet Ah could find a string big enough,” she said, breaking the silence.

Her voice broke the stalemate. “Hmm,” mused Rarity, her horn starting to glow.

A collection of tiny slivers and shards of glass rose up out of the box, floated around and around like some ridiculously small scale model of the solar system, and then carefully drifted back together, uniting perfectly.

A flash of magic, and the bead fell back into the box – whole once more. “There,” she said in satisfaction. “I daresay it’s more than salvageable, since all of the pieces are right there. When we get back to Ponyville, I’ll have it good as new, promise.”

Applejack flashed an appreciative smile. “Thanks, Rarity.”

She waved a hoof. “Oh, think nothing of it, darling. I simply couldn’t leave such a pretty little thing in shambles.”

Applejack smiled nonetheless.

~~***~~

The Great Hall was dead quiet.

The silence pressed in on Applejack's ears as she trotted in and glanced around, taking in the stage – still standing squarely in the back of the hall.

However, the chairs had all been hauled away. The orchestra pit was cleaned out. Aside from the stage itself, no evidence remained of the pageant taking place.

The torches burned low, filling the room with only a soft low light.

Her hooves echoed off of the walls back at her as she trotted further in, looking around.

Applejack had only stepped out for some fresh air, and to stretch her legs. Any more of those sweets and she was liable to start getting pudgy.

Yet somehow, her hooves and taken her all the way back here, as if drawn by some sort of curiosity. She looked around, marveling at just how big the space was while trotting further in.

“Going for a midnight stroll, are we?”

Applejack jumped, then spun around.

She could have sworn Princess Celestia hadn’t been there before, standing off to one side of the very door she herself had walked in through.

“It’s unusual to have ponies exploring the castle at such a late hour,” Celestia remarked, her smile benign as she stepped forward.

Applejack sputtered, freezing in place. “P-p-princess! Ah didn’t know y’all were –”

“It’s quite alright, Applejack,” Celestia said gently, gliding closer still. “You don’t need to be so worried about me.”

She gracefully strode up to stand beside Applejack, looking out towards the stage.

Applejack’s heart was still thundering from the shock of Celestia’s sudden appearance. “Ah… Ah thought y’all woulda been in bed by now.”

Celestia chuckled. “I probably should be. But tonight is a special night.”

Applejack frowned in confusion at her. “How so?”

Celestia smiled knowingly. “Over a thousand years ago, not far from this very spot, three new friends forged the fires of friendship and saved this land from eternal winter,” she said.

Applejack jolted in astonishment. “Ya mean… Smart Cookie, Private Pansy, a-and Clover the Clever…?”

Celestia nodded. “This castle was built around the spot these three unlikely heroes reconciled their differences and gave birth to Equestria. I doubt they ever realized how significant their actions were, but as with most defining moments in history, few ever do.”

She glanced towards Applejack then, making her tense up. Celestia gave off nothing but a warm, benevolent demeanor, and yet Applejack still couldn’t shake the feeling of the alicorn’s power – if not magically, than politically. It was intimidating, knowing that one single word from this mare beside her could send her, and the rest of her kind, packing from Equestria.

“Just like,” she said, “the actions of you and your friends tonight.”

Applejack blinked, but said nothing. She seemed at something of a loss, anyhow.

Celestia turned to watch the stage contentedly. “You may not realized it yet. Likely, it will not take a long time for the effects to truly be felt. But tonight, you have done something important. You have shown that changelings and ponies are not so different to the pegasi, unicorns and earth ponies of old. All we need is that bridge to connect us, and I believe you and your friends will be that bridge; the next Clover the Clever, Private Pansy and Smart Cookie.”

Now Applejack definitely didn’t know what to say. Her mouth just hung open stupidly, to Celestia’s amusement.

“I apologize,” she said sincerely. “You shouldn’t have to concern yourself with these things tonight.”

“It’s… it’s alright,” Applejack said automatically. “Truth is, things like that don’t stop concernin’ me.”

Celestia chuckled. “I certainly sympathize with you,” she said. “But if I may offer some advice, from one ruler to another.”

She leaned down to Applejack’s level, still smiling. “Try not to obsess over the things you have to do, and focus on what you can do.”

BONG! BONG!

Applejack jumped as the clock tower boomed across the castle, echoing through the halls and courtyards for all to hear. Six, seven, eight…

“If you pay attention to one thing only,” Celestia said. Ten… eleven… “You’ll never notice where the important ones are.”

BONG!

Something hissed through the air – the faintest, almost imaginary whispers. Applejack blinked, turned her head… and gawked.

The Great Hall was completely and totally empty. The stage had vanished without a trace, leaving the spacious hall even more cavernous than before. Everything was exactly as it had once been… until next year.

Celestia laughed quietly at Applejack’s dumbfounded expression. Somewhere high above, she had a sneaking suspicion that stage’s long bearded creator would be rolling on the floor as well.

“Well then, I suppose it’s time we all went to bed now,” Celestia said in good humor. “I’m sure your friend is starting to get a little worried.”

Applejack blinked at her – friend? – and turned around.

As soon as she did so, the Great Hall doors nudged open, and a familiar rainbow-colored head poked in, backlit by the light of the hallway behind her.

“There you are!” she said impatiently. “Geez, don’t wander off like that.”

Applejack rolled her eyes. “Guess y’all were right,” she said to Celestia, making her chuckle.

“… Is that Princess Celestia?”

“Go on, Applejack,” Celestia encouraged. “I’ve taken enough of your time tonight.”

Applejack nodded, bowed a little, then jogged off, hollering at Rainbow as she went. “Just hold yer horses, RD; Ah’m comin’.”

Celestia watched her go, a smile fit for a mother on her face. Perhaps she doesn’t need help with knowing who the important ones are after all.

~~***~~

Applejack and Rainbow trotted down the cold castle hallway, side by side. Neither spoke much. Neither felt much desire to. The sounds of their hooves were enough for the time being.

Both were tired. Not even Rainbow was in her typical boisterous mood.

“So…” started Rainbow.

“So,” echoed Applejack.

“Long day, huh?”

“Long year,” she sighed.

“Tell me about it…”

Applejack chuckled.

“Applejack… can I say something?”

“What?”

“… I’m sorry.”

Applejack raised an eyebrow, glancing in her direction. Rainbow was dutifully looking the other way, but there was a noticeable droop in her wings.

“Fer what?”

“You know… going along with Twilight, making you mad.”

Applejack rolled her eyes. “Landsakes, sugarcube, you’re still torn up over that? Ah said everythin’ was fine, and Ah meant it.”

“That’s not the point,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m… I’m supposed to be better than that.”

“Rainbow…”

“So, here it goes…”

Rainbow pulled up to a halt, forcing Applejack to stop, too.

The hall was empty save for them, but at that moment, Applejack doubted she would have noticed anypony else anyway.

The look Rainbow was giving her was one of intense seriousness and concentration, like what she was about to say was of the utmost importance. “I promise, Applejack. I’ll never, ever let you down again. I promise.”

Something tugged in Applejack’s chest, but she ignored it. After a few moments of staring and blinking, she finally broke into a small smile. “Alright, sugarcube. Ah’ll hold ya to that.”

Rainbow nodded in thanks, then relaxed. “Um… so yeah… that’s all I wanted to say while I had you here. You know, without the others to make fun of me. Let’s go hit the hay.”

Applejack chuckled. “Sounds good.”

So they set off together, side by side, comfortable in each other’s silence once more.

Until Rainbow brought up one final question.

“Um… can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

“… Why are you wearing mistletoe?”

Author's Note

And so it finally comes to an end. After a whole year, it's finally over. This one is significantly shorter than my usually works, but that's fine; most epilogues are, and that's about what this amounts to.

I basically spent all day writing this. about, oh, seven hours of nonstop writing. Blah...
But, I had fun. And that's what counts. It's funny; once I'm done writing, I get so listless, like I was watching some video that was absolutely riveting, so I peruse Youtube looking for the right video only to have nothing reach out and grab me. Same for books. It's weird.

What this story has proven to me is; if I'm going to get off track from my main two stories, I'd better make it a oneshot. Like, seriously... I think that's the ONLY thing I learned from Bucking All Day.
Anyway, I'm glad it's finally over. Finished. Finito, caput. Ain't nothing left to do!

Oh wait... one last thing...

Part 1

Part
1

It was that time of year again; the time every filly and colt had been dreaming of for months on end – in some cases, quite literally. And it was heralded, as per usual, by a silent downpour of whiteness.

All across Equestria, snow softly and quietly fluttered down from on high, filling the chilly air with little bits of cottony white coldness. Snow banks didn’t last long, however – not under the eager hooves of excited fillies and colts in their quest to build the perfect snowpony, or their insatiable need to mercilessly pelt random passersby and each other with countless, hoof-packed projectiles.

All across a snow-bound Ponyville in particular, decorations were invading somehow faster than the accumulating snow, if such a thing were possible. To the credit of the town’s inhabitants, there wasn’t a pony around who wasn’t in a festive mood.

Shoppers and general merrymakers moved through the icy streets, tightly bundled up against the cold but without much further thought for the chill in the air. They were simply too distracted by everything around them to care.

Endless strings of twinkling lights adorned every steepled roof and lit up the festive displays in every business front in charming arrangements to tantalize passing shoppers. The entire main thoroughfare of the town was lined with lamp posts wrapped in lights like some kind of cheery vine.

Trees became so laden with ornaments, streamers and the like that it was a wonder they didn’t collapse under the weight of it all.

Snow ponies of all sizes dotted nearly every street corner and yard, and snow forts littered the park like some silly war-zone waged by giggling colts and fillies and the immeasurable amounts of snow the heavens armed them with. Wiser ponies stuck to the main streets, lest they get struck in the face with a ball of packed coldness.

Far and wide, carolers stood on corners, in parks – even traveling neighborhood to neighborhood. Their merry tunes mingled in the snow-rich air, filling the hearts and minds of all those who heard them with eager anticipation.

Hearth’s Warming Eve had finally arrived.

~~***~~

Applejack gazed out of her bedroom window at the snow swirls dancing through the air, eyes gleaming and an excited smile brightening her face.

Her mane and orange coat were still damp from snow succumbing to the warmth of her body and the quilt wrapped around her shoulders. The cup of hot cocoa clutched in her hooves certainly helped, too.

She sat on the edge of her lumpy bed and watched the snow accumulate throughout her beloved farm; filling apple trees with a frozen simile canopy of snow and dagger-like icicles, as well as encrusting the edges of her bedroom window with a thin layer of creeping frost.

But even as cold as it was outside, there was warmth in the apple farmer’s heart. There was just no way to get rid of the excited smile on her face, or the antsy fidget out of her limbs.

“Golly, look at all that snow comin’ down,” she said to herself, her emerald eyes turning up to the murky grey clouds overhead. “If it keeps up like this, we’re gonna have ta get ta shovelin’ all over again.”

That prospect shouldn’t have been appealing. It’d taken her and Macintosh most of the morning working with shovels in absolutely bitter conditions to dislodge all the snow that’d built up on the Apple family house’s roof, not to mention clearing a path to the road through ankle-deep drifts and knocking loose the icicles growing on the eaves of the house. It’d been accomplishing work, even if the cold had cut her to the bone and numbed her ears. And now it looked like she’d have to do it all over again before the day’s end.

And yet, the first thing to cross Applejack’s mind was something else entirely.

“Heh… Ah bet Rainbow got behind on her weather duties again.” She chuckled to herself. It was snowing pretty darn heavily, after all, and when the weather got bad in Ponyville, it was usually because somepony missed a storm or two.

For a moment, Applejack could almost hear the pegasus’ indignant response to that float through her head. Hey, did not! What kind of Hearth’s Warming Eve would it be without snow, huh? You should be thanking me, bug brain!

Applejack snorted to herself, rolling her eyes. Yep, that sure sounds like somethin’ she’d say.

A sudden knock on her bedroom door brought the earth pony back to her senses, drawing her gaze over towards the other end of the small room.

“C’mon in,” she said, though she already had a very good guess as to who it was.

There was a brief pause, and then a red snout carefully pushed its way into the room, followed promptly by the rest of a very large stallion.

Big Macintosh looked rather odd without his trademark yoke hung around his neck, though it hardly did anything to diminish the sheer size of his bulky frame. His usually unkempt sandy mane was even more ruffled than usual, undoubtedly thanks to the damp towel draped cross his broad shoulders.

Big Mac looked completely oblivious to the state of his hair, however, and instead stoically eyed his sister from across the room, taking her appearance in carefully while mulling over what to say.

Applejack, however, didn’t really seem to notice. She just smiled fondly at the big stallion in greeting. “Howdy, Macintosh,” she said. “Ya all finished up?”

“Eeyup,” he responded with a nod. Yet, he continued to eye Applejack thoughtfully. He hadn’t come all the way up stairs and away from the cozy fire just to report to his younger sister. Something was on his mind, and it had been ever since dawn.

Applejack continued to take no notice of her brother’s probing stare. She nodded to herself, looking up thoughtfully. “Good ta hear. Roof’s cleared off, path’s shoveled… Golly, we sure made good time, huh? Well… Ah suppose a snowball fight or two didn’t help, but all the same.”

Macintosh raised an eyebrow. Or two? She and Apple Bloom had taken any chance they could to chuck a frozen glob at their siblings – himself included. He’d come to expect such antics from Apple Bloom, but Applejack, too?

While he was thinking things over, Applejack abruptly glanced away and out into the snow again, as if suddenly remembering something. “... By any chance would ya happen ta know what time it is?”

Big Mac’s sigh was almost too quiet to be perceived at all. “Five minutes since the last time ya asked,” he responded plainly. “So… five minutes since noon.”

Applejack blinked, turned to look at him rather uncomprehendingly, before immediately turning very sheepish indeed. “Eh-heh… sorry ‘boat that. Guess Ah am gettin’ a little antsy. But Ah can’t help it, honest.”

Again, she glanced out the window, only this time her eyes scanned for something lower to the horizon, as if searching for something through the snowfall. Her smile bloomed in full force, unable to be restrained for long.

“Just think about it,” she said excitedly. “In a couple o’ hours, me and the rest of the girls are gonna be doin’ that Hearth’s Warmin’ Eve pageant in Canterlot again.”

She breathed in, her smile growing still bigger, if such a thing was possible. Much bigger and she’d be giving a certain pink party pony a run for her money. “Hoowy, just thinkin’ about it gets me more wound up than a squirrel in a coffee shop. All six of us, together, just like last time…”

She sighed quietly, settling down in her quilt. “Just like normal.”

Big Mac’s eyes tightened slightly at the note in Applejack’s voice. On a whim, he glanced to one side – towards a cluttered writing desk piled high with half-finished letters, no less than three empty and dribble-covered ink pots, and papers bearing a calligraphy most certainly not belonging to the country mare.

Up until a few months ago, that writing desk had sat in that corner of the room collecting dust like some neglected antique, used only on occasion to write to distant relatives whenever the fancy struck Applejack. Now it looked as if somepony was trying to run a small kingdom out of it.

But Macintosh’s eyes only lingered on the clutter for a brief moment, only long enough to notice at least two new letters lying atop a heap of their fellows, and the fact that Applejack seemed to be out of ink. Again.

On the wall overlooking the mess hung a simple, slightly grubby calendar bearing the picture of a bundle of snow-covered holly. And under that image, there was a massive field of X after X after X, crossing off day after day right down to a big circle on the last row on the calendar, with a big grinning smiley face drawn in red ink upon that one particular day.

Big Mac glanced back towards his sister, who was still looking out the window, barely able to sit still at all.

He’d known that Applejack had been looking forward to the pageant, but he was starting to suspect that maybe he’d underestimated just how much she’d been anticipating it. The last time he’d seen her this wound up this time of year, she’d been half her age.

He remembered that quite clearly, in fact, and for a number of reasons. Perhaps the biggest, though, was the fact that she’d spent half the day romping about, giggling and hollering like a total mad mare… all over the ceiling.

If anypony had decided to drop by that day, it would’ve been very hard indeed to explain why Applejack was hanging upside down over their heads like she’d coated her hooves in glue. Or why she wasn’t, strictly speaking, a pony.

The leathery chitin, the happily buzzing, see-through wings, the small yet razor sharp horn on her forehead… Yes, it would’ve been very difficult to explain that away, especially since – at the time – their family wouldn’t have had an answer to give to that question that didn’t involve pure speculation and amazing guesswork.

Now, at least, that wasn’t as much of an issue, even if Big Mac was still struggling to adjust. It still set him on edge every time somepony stopped him in the street and asked him about his sister – about Applejack, the changeling.

It likely would take a very long time before that ingrained defensiveness went away, though Applejack seemed to be adjusting easier. Of course, she hadn’t had to do it alone.

“Ya better rest on the train ride in,” he said. It was about the only bit of advice he could think to give, even if he knew it’d be unnecessary.

Sure enough, Applejack turned to give him an appreciative smile. “Ah know, Macintosh,” she said. “And Ah will. There’s probably a whole lot o’ ponies out there lookin’ forward to the pageant, too, and Ah ain’t gonna ruin it for them by gettin’ all worked up.”

Even so, Applejack closed her eyes, daydreams dancing through her head. “But… Ah really think that this year is gonna be even better than the last one. Just you wait and see, Macintosh; we’re gonna make this pageant the biggest one yet.”

Big Mac didn’t respond, at least verbally. But what Applejack didn’t see, was the small, relieved smile on his face.

Applejack had been so buried in all this changeling business as of late. It did the big stallion so much good seeing her set all of that weight aside for as long as possible and act like the cheerful pony he knew her to be, even if she was ratcheting it up a degree or two too high.

AJ abruptly glanced towards the window, as if suddenly spotting something out of the corner of her eye, and just as quickly, she threw back the last of her cocoa and hopped up, as if coming to a decision that Big Mac hadn’t been in on. In one move, she brushed aside her cozy quilt and swept the Stetson from the bedpost beside her before setting her favorite hat atop her head.

“Guess we better get goin’,” she stated, all the while darting over to snatch up a crimson scarf off of the nearby dresser. “Don’t want ta miss the train!”

While she wrapped the scarf around her neck, Big Mac gave Applejack a rather blank look, blinking. “Uh…”

His answer, however, did not come from the orange earth pony stepping into her favorite set of boots. No, it came from a rather urgent rapping sound that suddenly came from the bedroom window itself.

And there, tapping her hoof against the glass, hovered a cyan pegasus who seemed as much impatient as she was excited. “Hope you’re all rested up in there, Smart Cookie! Cuz it’s show time!”

Applejack only chuckled good-naturedly before raising her voice. “In a minute, Commander Hurricane!”

She chuckled again, as giddy as a school filly as she made for the door. All the while, she was being berated through a window by an incorrigible weather pony. “Hop to it, earth pony scum! Hup-two three four! Hup-two three four!”

Applejack could only laugh as she cantered for the door, beaming from ear to ear. Absolutely nothing was going to spoil her spirits now, she was sure of it.

~~***~~

Twilight Sparkle huffed out a breath and watched the resulting puff evaporate into the frigid air. She’d made sure to bundle herself up in her favorite set of galoshes, a scarf, wool cap and the warmest saddle she had. But even so, the crisp chill in the air was truly a merciless thing.

The train station served as a small island of respite from the fluttering snow at least, and from her bench seat, she was afforded a panoramic view of the rolling winter wonderland that’d replaced the familiar countryside. Even with the sun tucked securely behind a thick bank of Cloudsdale’s finest, the white of the snow coating the land seemed to glow with a light all its own, as if no amount of gloom could stymie its pure beauty.

The platform itself was jam-packed with excited, shivering ponies of all sizes eagerly awaiting the next train. Many were laden with parcels and suitcases while others had their hooves full merely contending with their energetic children bounding about, happily cheering the names of loved ones soon to arrive. Still other ponies periodically – almost compulsively at times – checked nearby clocks for the time, but for most, it was like watching a pot boil.

For the time being, however, Twilight was not among them. She had plenty in the way of distractions to keep her busy, after all, and at the moment all of the hubbub taking place around her was barely more than background noise.

Particularly, her attention was drawn to a knee-length scroll and all the claw-written points waiting to be checked off.

“Okay,” she said to nopony in particular, “Let’s see… rehearsals shouldn’t take too long… But if they’re doing three shows again, it’ll be pretty late before we can celebrate.”

“Aw…”

“Sorry, Pinkie. That’s just the way it’s gonna have to go.”

Sitting beside the purple unicorn on the bench, Pinkie Pie slumped almost improbably low in her seat, like a balloon with hardly any air. Being told that partying would have to wait was about the most devastating thing a pony could say in her presence.

She looked so dejected, in fact, that Twilight couldn’t help but lean over for a comforting nuzzle in the party pony’s poofy doo. She had to be careful, though; the last time she did that, she could’ve sworn something bit her, no matter what the others said.

“It’s okay, Pinkie,” she promised. “I’m not saying we won’t party. I’m just saying we might want to have dinner at the same time.”

The change was immediate.

All at once, Pinkie suddenly shot up into a proper sitting position, nearly colliding with Twilight in the process. As quick as a flash, she reached into her mane and whipped out – of all things – a cake-shaped notepad, complete with candy cherry, and an alarmingly huge power pink pen, and immediately set about taking notes.

“Dinner, gotcha,” Pinkie said in a suddenly dead serious voice. “Any preference?”

“W-well…,” Twilight flustered, taken completely aback.

As abruptly as Pinkie’s mood changed, it switched again. The next thing Twilight knew, she was being subjected to the biggest smile in Ponyville.

“Just kidding!” Pinkie gushed, giggling as her pen flew across paper at absurd speeds. “I’ve got just the thing!”

“Y-you do?”

Pinkie beamed. “Yep! I know a friend of a friend of a friend of a friend of an aunt of a sister of a godfather of a dog-catcher of a poodle of a –”

The whole while she spoke, Pinkie’s pen flew across one page after the other, moving so fast that it seemed to be kicking up dust.

“—Of a landlord of this really nice place down in Vanhoover who knows this other pony in Canterlot….”

She paused, inhaled anew, and went on, “Who’s also friend of a friend of a friend –”

No… no that’s smoke. That’s definitely smoke.

“Who can hook me up with the perfect cater for the job!” Pinkie declared, finishing off the last line on the last piece of paper in the entire pad with a grand flourish.

But then she paused, a curl of something black rising up and into the air while she froze perfectly in place, a thought striking her.

“Unless they’re closed…”

Twilight could only blink at her… eccentric friend, not quite following and definitely not about to try. “Uh… what’s wrong with Donut Joe’s?”

To that, Pinkie gave her a very perplexed look. “Who did you think I was talking about?”

The lavender unicorn stared at Pinkie like a pony staring into the abyss. But then she shook herself, tearing herself away from the madness before it could claim her. Not now, not now – pick your battles, Twilight. Pick your battles…

“Maybe we’ll just commission the castle chefs to make us something?” she proposed hopefully.

Pinkie blinked blankly, and then promptly flung her pen and paper over her shoulder without a second thought. Thunderlane never saw it coming. “Huh. Why didn’t I think of that?”

Twilight could only roll her eyes.

Further conversation was cut off, however, when somepony cleared their throat.

“Darling, can you please tell us why we’re sticking to such an uncharacteristically tight schedule? I feel like we’re going to have practically no time to ourselves today, and that was most certainly not the case last year!”

Rarity sat on the librarian’s other side, sipping a piping hot mug of coffee, all the while raising an eyebrow at her now-sheepish friend.

Like Twilight, she was as bundled up as she could be against the rather unforgiving nip in the air. Of course, she seemed to have taken it a step too far; instead of looking like a mare out in the cold, she looked fit for an arctic expedition. The only bit of hide showing at all through the layers of wool and nylon was the space between the bridge of her muzzle and her horn, and only because she couldn’t quite justify the fashion choice of wearing ski goggles to fill the gap.

Normally the cold had little effect on the mare, aside from allowing her to show off her seasonal lines of clothing. But that day was very, very different.

She’d spent all morning getting her coat as pristine as possible for the pageant – she would not risk having even a single arrant flake of snow marring that! And while there was no way to protect her precious mane during the trip, there was a very good reason why she sat with a fully stocked cosmetics kit at her side. She would be flawless for the pageant, and there wasn’t a force in the universe that could stop her.

On the fashionista’s other side, Fluttershy watched the snow descending from the sky with a mild smile, lost in her own little world. Aside from a thick, woolen scarf coiled about her shoulders and a hoof-knit cap covered in little hearts, she was hardly wearing anything to ward off the cold, unlike the rest of her friends. Yet, it hardly seemed to faze her at all.

For that matter, most pegasi on the platform were dressed the same, though a tolerance for inclement weather could hardly be called surprising in their case. Other, mostly wing-less ponies, on the other hand, were nevertheless slightly less resistant to the nipping breeze.

“I’m sorry, Rarity, but I don’t really know much more than you do,” Twilight said helplessly. “I wish I did, believe me. All I know is that the pageant board put somepony new in charge of the play, and she wanted to put us through some extra rehearsals. She said something about wanting to see how we performed for herself, at least according to the letter.”

“Somepony new?” echoed Rarity, raising an eyebrow curiously. She even forgot to be quite so whiney. “Did something happen to Mister Gaffer?”

Rickety old Mister Gaffer had been the pageant’s director for as long as anypony could remember. He’d always been there on that stage, taking a bow with the actors and actresses after the show for as long as Twilight could recall, and she had yet to miss a show, even after moving to Ponyville.

Twilight would always remember his deeply wrinkled face, the innumerable laugh lines and rumpled folds on his brow that occasionally made it difficult to tell if he was awake or not. When they’d worked with him last year, he’d been nothing but smiles and encouragement, regardless of the inexperience of his main cast.

Sure, there were a few moments where he had a tendency to trail off or forget what he was up to, and he kept mistaking Fluttershy for his niece almost every time the old unicorn saw her. But even so, he’d been a master of his craft, whipping five novices into working shape in no time at all, all the while executing everything like clockwork. It’d only taken two weekends prior to the play to get everything – and everypony – ready, and the rest was history.

Honestly, a pageant without him would feel very, very odd indeed, like a Daring Do book written by a different author. Yet, the only time Twilight had even heard about it was when she’d gotten that letter yesterday. There’d been no fuss, no drama; nothing. He’d just… stopped, just like that.

Twilight shrugged, flopping her hooves. “I don’t know. Maybe he retired?”

She couldn’t help but hope that that was all it was.

Rarity frowned, allowing herself a careful sip of piping hot coffee before continuing. “Well, whoever it is, they have some very important horseshoes to fill for tonight. Surely the princess didn’t get just any old pony for the job leading the biggest pageant in all of Equestria. Did that letter perhaps happen to mention who would be directing in Mister Gaffer’s place?”

Twilight nodded in response, but her frown didn’t lighten much. “It did, but I didn’t recognize the name. Um… what was it again…? Oh, right! I think her name was Verily Vermillion.”

Rarity paused a moment to think while thoughtfully humming to herself, one hoof pensively rubbing under her chin. “Hmm… I can’t say I’ve ever heard of her before. Odd… it sounds so very familiar, but I can’t seem to place it…”

“You take that back!”

All four mares jumped in unison, Rarity very nearly spilling her precious coffee all over her front in the process.

Twilight was suddenly very aware of the commotion going on all around her as ponies turned in shock towards the other end of the platform, and together, their collective gazes fell upon the same scene.

Two stallions were standing with their backs to the crowd, ignorant of the attention they were garnering. Instead, they were more interested on a purple mare crouching on the ground, and a small, bawling shape wearing a pale pink parka clinging to her front.

The mare was leveling a truly venomous glare at the stallions while patting the crying foal’s head. “Well congratulations, you donkey-heads. You made a little filly cry. I hope you’re real proud of yourselves.”

One of the stallions snarled back, unimpressed by the slender unicorn. “Like she counts. How can you even stand living under the same roof as those monsters? I thought you were better than all of these bug-lovers, Sparkler.”

If a look could’ve killed, that stallion would’ve been pushing up daisies for himself and his next of kin. “I don’t see your mother taking me in, and even if she did, I’d rather be homeless than let the pony that spawned you anywhere near me!”

The stallion blanched, going from chocolate brown to almost tan in the face. “Why you little…!” he snarled, his thickset hoof starting to rise.

He would never know what hit him.

The only possible warning anypony had was a deadly, lightning-fast hissing sound as something shot through a narrow gap between ponies' heads. It was only an instant, and by the time the sound and feel of rushing air registered in the heads of onlookers, the stallion was struck so hard that he was bowled completely over with a solid THWACK.

For most everypony, it happened so fast that all that was heard was a rapid-fire thwack-crack, and suddenly there was a stallion lying on the ground with his legs twitching in the air.

His companion yelped, jolting back just as his friend’s head hit the ground hard enough to crack the very concrete. Needless to say, he didn’t get back up.

“W-w-what was that?” cried the last remaining bully, spinning round and round in fright. “Sh-show yourself! Who did that?”

“Ahem.”

The stallion froze, his eyes growing steadily smaller and smaller. He’d noticed the hush that’d fallen over the station, and out of the corner of his eye, he watched as every pony nearby turned in the direction of that throat being cleared – and then quickly sidestepped away from him with all due haste.

Slowly, shakily, he turned while being absolutely terrified of what he might find.

He wasn’t even close to being prepared. There, standing just on the other side of the ticket booth, stood a glaring, furious orange earth pony menacingly tossing and catching another of her choice projectiles.

A volleyball sized snowball.

“Sorry, Ah interrupted ya,” growled Applejack, her voice as humorless as a voice could get. “Ah believe ya were about ta apologize ta Sparkler and her sister before makin’ yerself real scarce.”

The stallion issued a rather high pitched squeaking noise, before immediately throwing himself on the ground at Sparkler and her sister’s hooves.

“I’msorryI’msorryI’msorrypleasedon’tkillmeoreatmeor—”

“Alright, alright,” said Sparkler in exasperation. “Just get lost already.”

“Yes, ma’am!”

And just like that, the stallion bolted with his tail between his legs. His companion, however, stayed put and continued to gurgle serenely to himself.

Applejack huffed a blast of steam, just before casting aside her last bit of ammunition. “Honestly. Some ponies…”

Everypony just stared at the apple farmer, more than a few with slack jaws. Even Pinkie found herself at a loss for words. Applejack ignored the silence, however, and instead stepped towards Sparkler and her still-sobbing sister.

“You two alright?” she asked.

“Yeah… thanks,” mumbled Sparkler almost begrudgingly. “Another two seconds and I would’ve had to teach them a lesson myself.”

The filly holding onto her front suddenly gasped, followed by a boot-covered hoof smacking against Sparkler’s chest. “No! Mommy woulda been mad!”

“Really?” Sparkler questioned, raising an eyebrow, “cuz I’m pretty sure she’d be clapping right now, kiddo.”

The unicorn looked up, away from her indignant sister to meet Applejack’s gaze. “Well… thanks for dealing with that doofus. Guess not everypony in Ponyville is as tolerant as they advertise.”

“Guess not,” quipped Rainbow.

Sparkler jumped, suddenly realizing that there was a pegasus standing almost right beside her, poking a hoof at the unconscious stallion on the floor, looking rather disappointed.

“Did you have to hit him so hard, AJ? I wanted a shot, too, you know.”

“It ain’t a contest, Rainbow,” pointed out Applejack with a roll of her eyes.

But as she started to fix the cyan pegasus with an exasperated look, she couldn’t help but notice four particular ponies staring right at her from the other end of the platform.

“Oh, howdy girls! Hope Ah didn’t miss anythin’.”

~~***~~

With a loud chug and blast of steam, the Friendship Express pulled out of the Ponyville station, picking up speed with each passing second. In no time at all, it’d achieved quite a head of steam, and was barreling down the tracks towards a distant, gilded city amidst the snow-covered mountains.

Unfortunately, in one of the compartments at least, hardly anypony was paying the white landscape whizzing by any mind.

“I can’t believe you did that, AJ!” burst out Twilight. Her mortified look had hardly diminished since departing, but this was the first time that she’d really started to put it to use. “Knocking somepony out like that… we’ll be lucky if you’re not reported to the Guard!”

Several of her friends flinched at the harshness in her voice. Applejack, however, was not one of them.

“What was Ah supposed to do, Twi’? Let them go on harassin’ and pay ‘em no mind?” She asked. Her words weren’t pointed or confrontational, but there was a definite, unrepentant note in her voice.

Her words had the desired effect, though. Twilight winced slightly, pulling a face. “I… didn’t mean that. Of course not. It’s just… We don’t need to get tensions stirred up again. The changelings in Ponyville are in the spotlight enough right now as it is. Any little mistake could turn into a really big mess, so we all need to be a little extra careful.”

As she spoke, Twilight gave her friend a meaningful look, making it perfectly clear that she was including Applejack in her statement.

“I don’t see what the big deal is,” stated a purple baby dragon sitting next to Twilight, looking slightly bored. “We deal with goons like them all the time, and nopony’s ever got on our case about it.”

Twilight turned to shoot a disapproving look at Spike, who turned slightly sheepish. “This is different, Spike,” she pointed out.

Applejack frowned slightly, started to say something, only to be cut off by the one sitting next to her.

“Why?” Rainbow blurted hotly. “Because she’s a changeling?”

Everypony squirmed uncomfortably. Leave it to Dash to throw tact to the wind.

“That’s… part of...” Twilight tried, but a cautionary look from Rarity cut her short.

Nopony really wanted to, but one way or another, all five mares found their gazes turning towards the orange earth pony seated in their midst.

Applejack, however, didn’t meet any of their gazes, but no one missed the look of embarrassment on her face. “Come on, girls. We ain’t here ta sweat the small stuff, right?”

To her immense relief, Pinkie suddenly bounced up, a hoof in the air. “You got that right! And I know just the thing! Who’s up for a round of ninety-nine ciders on the wall?”

The distraction worked. All eyes turned together towards Pinkie, and the tension in the air dissipated.

Applejack couldn’t help but sink a little into her chair, a barely restrained sigh working past her thankful smile.

It’s alright, she thought to herself. That sorta thing’s bound ta happen now. No big deal.

She jumped slightly when something bumped into her side. When she turned to look, she found a cyan shoulder leaning against hers.

Again, Applejack sighed – this time, internally. And anyway… it could’a turned out a whole lot worse...

~~***~~

From there on, the trip became, thankfully, rather uneventful. Conversations shifted to little matters, like the weather – which for some reason kept causing Rainbow’s chest to puff out proudly.

Pinkie was, as per usual, all-but literally bouncing off the walls, and it was quickly made apparent that not joining her in a string of carols was almost physically impossible. Even Twilight allowed the party pony drag her away from her list on more than one occasion by a round of The Twelve Days of Hearth's Warming.

Fluttershy, meanwhile, was dutifully reciting lines to herself with a very serious expression indeed, only to implode the moment anypony took notice. Only once did Rainbow manage to coax her into an impromptu rehearsal right there on the train, but it quickly devolved from practice into a Commander Hurricane show-off.

Rarity contented herself by meticulously combing and brushing her mane while acting as impartial observer to the antics of her friends. Eventually, she started picking Twilight’s brain over this mysterious new pageant director, with neither having much success.

At one point during the trip, the door to the train car flew open to reveal an ecstatic Apple Bloom, who homed in on her older sister like a heat-seeking rocket.

Of course, Applejack only became aware of that fact after she felt something latch bodily onto her leg.

“Big sis, big sis!” she cried happily. “Are we gonna have Hearth’s Warmin’ in the castle? Are we?”

“Well shoot,” Applejack chuckled. “Guess that’s up to the princesses.”

Still, she glanced up towards Twilight hopefully.

Just by looking at her, it was evident that the unicorn was trying to hide her smile. “I’m sure Princess Celestia won’t mind if we have our own little party after the pageant. We can use my old room again if you want to.”

Everypony cheered a hearty affirmative, causing Twilight to turn a little pink.

Applejack smiled in appreciation, then turned back towards her positively beaming little sister.

Only, she wasn’t alone, Applejack realized.

Standing a little ways behind her, fidgeting nervously in the middle of the aisle, stood a small filly wearing a pale pink parka. Just passed the wool-lined hood, a pair of beady, featureless blue eyes eyed Applejack apprehensively, and it seemed like she had good reason.

Gripped gently in her tiny mouth was a small, crumpled rectangular box wrapped in metallic green paper and adorned with a single, muddy bow. The thing wasn’t in the best of shapes; in fact, it looked like it’d been stepped on rather viciously.

One by one, the six friends fell quiet as their eyes turned inquisitively towards the bashful youngling.

“Everythin’ alright, sugarcube?” Applejack asked, offering a small smile.

The filly didn’t say anything. Instead, she threw caution to the wind and darted up to the older mare. Without waiting for Applejack to say a thing, she gingerly placed the beaten package right next to her, taking the apple farmer aback.

“U-u-um…,” the youngling squeaked, “H-happy Hearth’s Warming, Miss Applejack.”

And while Applejack’s eyes widened in shock, the filly’s nerve failed her. Her mission accomplished, she turned tail and bolted to the opposite end of the train car. The last thing Applejack saw of her was her tiny, boot-covered hooves clambering up onto the high seat next to a familiar unicorn.

Applejack just blinked, stunned. Even her friends didn’t seem to know what to say.

She turned her gaze towards the present she’d just been handed. It had such an awkward crook to its shape, and Applejack could’ve sworn she could make out the outline of a hoof across its top half.

But the tag still remained unharmed. The whole thing was virtually taken up by a single, childishly scrawled name; “Appljack”

Applejack smiled to herself, barely restraining a chuckle.

“Well?”

The apple farmer blinked in surprise, then lifted her gaze to give Rarity a questioning look. The fashionista only gave her a rather meaningful look in return.

“Aren’t you going to open it?” she asked.

Before Applejack could respond, Pinkie let out a dramatic gasp worthy of the white unicorn, all the while looking mortified.

“You don’t open presents on Hearth’s Warming Eve,” she stated, sounding horrified that Rarity would even think to suggest such an absurdity. “Well, maybe one right before bed, but never in the middle of the day!”

“I merely thought –,” Rarity tried to defend herself, but Pinkie was having none of it.

“It’s alright,” Applejack reassured. “Ah’ll save it fer tonight.”

Still, Rarity cast an uncertain look over the apple farmer’s shoulder and down the aisle. “Alright then. If you feel that’s –”

Whatever else Rarity had to say, however, came to an abrupt end.

All of a sudden, the white, obscuring blur of snow outside the train window disappeared altogether, flooding each and every window up and down the train with splendorous sunlight.

Quite a few ponies yelped in surprise, shielding their eyes against the radiance, moments before they stared out in awe.

Applejack saw it herself when the train rounded a narrow cliff at breakneck speeds.

There, not a mile away, was Canterlot in all its gilded, majestic glory, shining somehow even brighter than the sunlit winter wonderland it rose from.

Even the solid columns of ice replacing the cascading waterfalls at the grand castle’s foot seemed to shine like priceless gems, glittering wherever the sunlight struck them.

All up and down the train, ponies oohed and awed, their troubles vanishing just like that.

For Applejack, the excitement in her heart came sprinting back like a puppy, and suddenly she found it very hard to sit still indeed.

~~***~~

Canterlot was a beautiful place any time of the year. The grand towers and extravagant homes and businesses could be seen for miles and miles around. From a distance, it resembled a gilded crown resting aside a massive mountain.

Up close, Canterlot had no peer. It wasn’t merely the scale of everything, either; it was the grandeur of it. From the mightiest of mansions to the most humble of hovels, there was an almost mystical quality to every stone, every furnishing, right down to every lamp post lighting the way for weary travelers.

This was always the first thing impressed upon visitors – either to the always-busy main gate connecting the city to the rest of the country, or by the constantly running train lines. Some would call it oppressive, others otherworldly. Whatever one’s take, all agreed that there wasn’t a place even remotely similar in the whole wide world.

It didn’t take long for Applejack’s excitement to get the better of her, either. She and the rest of her friends stayed plastered to the windows, eagerly drinking in the sight of Equestria’s grandest of metropolises even as the train screeched into the station.

The moment the doors swung open, she was the first to bound out onto the platform, beating even Pinkie Pie quite handily.

“Come on, ya slow pokes!” she called behind her, beaming hugely. “We ain’t got all day!”

“Jeez, AJ,” chuckled Rainbow, stepping around a very bewildered Pinkie Pie. “Who put a bee in your bonnet, huh?”

Applejack just met the pegasus’ playful sneer with one of her own. “There’s only a couple hours until the pageant, and by the sounds of it this new director lady wants ta put us through our paces first.”

She raised an eyebrow challengingly at Rainbow, something her friend noticed right away. “Ya ain’t stallin’, are ya?”

Dash’s response was as quick as it was predictable.

In a thrice, her wings shot open and her legs braced for action. “Bring it on, bug brain. Last one there buys the eggnog!”

Applejack grinned confidently, muscles tensing. “Yer on.”

And just like that, they both turned in unison, and tore off down the lane as fast as their hooves could carry them, leaving a trail of scandalized socialites and their disapproving glares.

“What the hay’s gotten into those two,” questioned Twilight, shocked.

“I haven’t the foggiest,” Rarity huffed, clearly offended by her friends’ rather boorish display in the heart of high society. “Applejack and I may need to have some words about what somepony of her pedigree should and shouldn’t do.”

“Oh, I thought it was alright,” Fluttershy mumbled to a flagstone. “Applejack looked so happy just now.”

Still, Rarity scowled unhappily. “Perhaps, but unless somepony else we know would like to turn into royalty, I’ll just have to keep holding out hope that she will someday act like a proper lady. Don’t you agree, Twilight?”

“Well… I think Fluttershy might be right,” Twilight said slowly. She then turned her eyes in the direction of distant cries of startled Canterlotians. “It feels like it’s been forever since the last time I’ve seen her act so… so…”

Rarity glanced at the unicorn out of the corner of her eye, all traces of indignation gone. “…Normal?”

Twilight bit her lip, averting her gaze. “Yeah. Normal.”

~~***~~

“Hah! I win!”

Applejack paused, surprised, before looking to one side – straight at an equally wide-eyed Rainbow.

Both of their front hooves were resting an inch beyond the same iron band on the Canterlot castle draw bridge.

Even the two guards at the gate were staring in wide-eyed astonishment at the winded pair. For that matter, everypony in eyesight was staring at them and the path of mayhem they’d wrought along the way.

Meanwhile, both mares started bickering amongst themselves, completely ignorant of the multitudes of stunned eyes turned their way.

“Oh come on, AJ! I totally won that, and you know it!”

“No way, RD. Y’all were at least half a hoof behind me and y'all know it.”

“Yeah, only cuz I wasn’t flying!”

“And what do ya call that stunt ya pulled around Town Square?!”

“Falling with style! Besides, you didn’t hear me complain when you started sledding down Mane Street! I didn’t even know you could go that fast on one of those things!”

“And Ah would’a kept goin’ if the dang skis hadn’t fallen off!”

“Applejack, I think there’s a difference between ‘falling off’ and ‘falling apart’.”

“Now yer just splittin’ hairs. ‘Sides, what about that stunt ya pulled with that giant candy cane?”

“Style!”

Applejack rolled her eyes. “Y’all would know all about style, wouldn’t ya.”

Rainbow shot her a cold glare. “Don’t you even go there, cowgirl.”

Both mares stared each other down while the guards stationed at either end of the gate braced for a scene.

They were not expecting, however, for both mares to suddenly break apart into fits of hearty laughter.

“Whew boy,” Applejack panted after getting the worst of it out of her system. “My… my sides…! Ha…”

She met Rainbow’s gaze. The pegasus had completely capsized, and was kicking at the air in mirth. She, too, was settling down, at least – if only just.

“Guess we’re going with a draw again, huh?”

Applejack chuckled. “Looks that way, sugarcube.”

Rainbow made a show of swinging one hoof through the air – drat – before flipping right-side up again. “Well then. Next time will just have to be the tie-breaker.”

Applejack let one last chuckle slip past her lips, but the smile was there to stay for sure. Gosh… Ah needed that…

“Applejack!”

Both mares looked up at the sound of that voice, and immediately they found its owner jogging towards them – not from the city, but from within the castle itself.

It was only then that Applejack even paid attention to it as more than just a finish line. Every time she saw it, she could’ve sworn the castle had gotten just a little bigger – the spires longer, the gold more prevalent, the balconies more common – and that time was no different.

For a moment, another place whizzed through the back of Applejack’s mind – one just as grand, but made of living wood in the heart of the Everfree.

But it was only there for a moment. She was almost immediately distracted by the sight of a khaki mare cantering towards them, looking almost beside herself.

“Oh, hey Rose,” Rainbow called in greetings while trying to catch her breath.

Applejack, too, gave the apparent earth pony a friendly smile. “Well howdy, Rose. Ah didn’t know y'all were here already.”

Roseluck smiled broadly, her eyes almost dancing. “I’m sorry, Miss Applejack. The Guard wanted a list of all the changelings that would be attending today. Then I was offered a suite here in the castle to spend the night, then we broke for dinner and the princesses were there and –”

The more Roseluck spoke, the more flustered she became. Simply recalling such an extraordinary day for the small-town mare seemed almost too much for her.

She did manage to catch herself, however. She caught her breath, taking a few lungfuls of air to calm herself down a bit. “Oh… oh, I’m sorry, Applejack. It’s been a very… overwhelming day. Being recognized as a changeling – especially by Princess Celestia herself…! I don’t know whether to cheer or head for the hills!”

Applejack chuckled. She certainly understood that feeling, and there likely wasn’t a changeling in Equestria who didn’t.

“Ya coulda told me,” Applejack pointed out. “Ah woulda been happy ta do it myself.”

Roseluck’s smile screwed up on her face, like she was trying to keep it in check. “Well, the last time we spoke, you seemed a little bit distracted. And you do have an important job today.”

Applejack blushed sheepishly. Come to think of it, she could barely even remember their last meeting. Or was it a passing greeting?

Roseluck merely gave her an understanding smile. However, it only lasted for a short period, before something seemed to occur to her – something she didn’t seem to like.

“Listen, Applejack. About the pageant…”

Applejack had just glanced towards Rainbow when Roseluck spoke, but even as she glanced back towards the earth pony, the sound of quickly approaching hoof-falls behind her drew all three ponies’ attentions.

“There you two are!” cried out Twilight’s very exasperated voice.

When the two mares turned around – Roseluck looked over their shoulders – they found a very out of breath and equally irate lavender unicorn starring daggers at them.

Pinkie was right behind her, giggling madly at something neither Rainbow nor Applejack had been privy to, despite the fact that she was looking straight at them.

Fluttershy, Spike and Rarity were nowhere to be seen, but there did happen to be a yellow taxi carriage racing down the road towards them as fast as the huffing and puffing stallions manning it could go.

But at the moment, it was Twilight’s furious glare that dominated Dash’s and Applejack’s attention.

“Would one of you mind telling me why there is a giant candy cane holding up traffic on Mane Street?!”

Applejack glanced towards Rainbow, who’d suddenly become very interested in the curvature of a nearby snow bank.

“Uh,” mumbled Applejack, scratching her nose. “Honestly? Ah ain’t got the foggiest.”

It was true; she’d been more focused on what she was trying not to crash into at the time.

Of course, Twilight didn’t like that answer, and looked like she very much wanted to express that displeasure – preferably as loudly as possible.

Unfortunately for her, the resounding bong of a clock tower bell cut her off.

Everypony in the group turned around, glancing in the direction of the tolling echoing across Canterlot; two, three – four times.

“We should probably hurry,” Roseluck noted casually. “Princess Celestia will be waiting.”

“Right,” Rainbow said, eagerly jumping at an offered lifeline. “Lots to do, right? Best not keep the princess waiting!”

And with that, she hastily trotted across the drawbridge without looking back.

“Ugh, fine,” Twilight grumbled, then raised her voice to add, “but this isn’t over, Dash! You’ve got some explaining to do!”

She quickly strode over the pegasus, with Pinkie bouncing along right on her tail, humming some rambling medley of a dozen different carols all jumbled together.

At the same time, the incoming taxi screeched to a halt – followed promptly by the exhausted drivers collapsing in a heap on the ground.

Applejack sighed before she glanced towards Roseluck and jerked her head. “Welp, we best get goin’. Lot’s ta do.”

But as she made to move around the earth pony, Roseluck’s hoof suddenly caught her shoulder. “Please wait a moment, Applejack,” she said, her voice dropping.

When she saw Applejack give her a searching look, Roseluck leaned in closer, so that only she could hear her.

“Is somethin’ wrong, Rose?” Applejack asked, sobering up.

She hadn’t known the Ponyvillian changeling for long -- only a month or two at the most. Yet there wasn’t a day in that time frame that Applejack hadn’t valued – or downright needed – Roseluck’s support. So, seeing her concerned was all the reason Applejack needed to get plenty serious herself.

At the moment, she was meeting Applejack’s gaze steadily, but there was clearly something on her mind. But what she said still took Applejack completely by surprise.

“What have you heard about this new director leading the pageant?”

Applejack blinked, nonplussed. But, she responded as best she could anyway. “Not a whole lot. Rarity and Twilight were tryin’ their best ta figure out who she was. Why?”

Roseluck’s frown deepened. She was lost in thought for a time, but came back almost right away. “Be careful with her. You need to be on your best behavior around this Verily Vermillion, especially during rehearsals.”

Now Applejack really had some questions, but a pony calling out from the other end of the drawbridge interrupted her.

“Hurry up, AJ,” shouted Twilight impatiently. “At this rate we’re only going to be able to get in one or two practices before the show!”

Applejack shot the unicorn a glance, then returned her attention back to Roseluck. The earth pony held her gaze with a meaningful, serious eye before nodding slightly. “She’s right. Come on – we’ve got some screening to get through.”

~~***~~

In all her days visiting the castle, Applejack never recalled security being as tight as it was then. Nopony seemed to pay it much mind, however, and most of the aristocrats viewed it as little more than a nuisance designed to impede them.

But to someone like Applejack, the new protective layers were just a bit more harrowing.

First came the expected – a name given at the gate, followed by a check to see if said name and the pony it belonged to should, in fact, be inside the castle.

But that was where the familiarity ended – at least, for Applejack and Roseluck.

The moment they gave their names, the guard doing the checking looked them up and down, then jerked a hoof towards the gate – or rather, the gate beyond the gate.

Applejack may not have been very familiar with the castle grounds, or the architectural design that went into building it, but it struck her as very odd that there’d be a perfectly square archway mere feet from the open door. In fact, it was so close that there was virtually no way around it for anyone striding through the gate, and Applejack quickly discovered why.

“You should take off your boots and scarf,” Roseluck advised, and before Applejack could ask why, the earth pony stepped through the archway.

The moment the first hair on her forward-most foreleg passed through the arch, a dozen lifeless stones atop its upper framework turned blinding, iridescent green, followed by a trill note that drew the attention of every single guard in the room beyond.

And as Applejack watched, the arch filled itself with dazzling green light.

The moment it touched Roseluck’s coat, emerald sparks burst forth like a bashed coal, and as Applejack looked on, Rose’s khaki coat disintegrated.

Advancing from front to back, the building flames swallowed her whole, reducing fur to ashen chitin and olive eyes to featureless, blue orbs set into a fanged face.

It only took a second or two for Roseluck to pass through the arch, but by the time she made it, the earth pony was gone. Instead, a changeling drone stood in her place, trembling as if her nerves had been jarred.

A second later, and a guard punched a button on the side of the arch, and suddenly the trilling sound dissipated. The gemstones atop the structure faded to blackness once more, and everything returned to how it’d once been. The guards relaxed, and ponies quickly found things more worthy of their attention.

Only now, Applejack was eying the large, rather blocking construct with an all new trepidation.

“What in the world is this thing?” she asked nervously.

“An experiment,” Roseluck answered while waiting patiently on the other side. “It feels… well, pretty terrible, if we’re honest with each other, but it’s over before you know it.”

Now Applejack liked the arch even less. It was just such an ugly, blocky thing, so contrasting with the splendor of the castle’s grand foyer beyond.

But there was no way around it, so after pulling off her galoshes and stuffing her scarf into one of them, she steeled her nerves and strode purposefully forward. Just a moment before it happened, Applejack’s breath caught in her chest, and she braced.

Again she heard the alarm go off, followed immediately by every single ounce of strength fleeing her body.

Roseluck hadn’t been lying – it was a truly terrible, numbing sensation that almost made her physically ill. Applejack was barely aware of the changeling fire washing over her compared to that horrible draining sensation. How she didn’t stumble and fall over like a boneless blob was truly beyond her.

But like Roseluck had promised, it was over just as quickly as it started. Somehow Applejack managed to keep her hooves moving her forward, and the moment she was out from under that wretched device, she immediately began to feel worlds better.

Her strength came flooding back. Love filled the gaping chasm inside every fiber of her body, courtesy of everypony who cared about her, and in no time at all, the disturbing numbness had vanished in its entirety.

But that didn’t stop her from trembling in disgust.

“Sweet merciful Celestia, what is that,” she exclaimed, throwing the now-lifeless archway a dirty look.

Roseluck could only give her a sympathetic look. “I was afraid that if I warned you, you’d never get past it,” she admitted. “I’m sorry.”

Applejack shook herself, trembling from the tip of her now-leathery black, fanged muzzle to her holey, amber tail. “Probably a good idea,” she admitted begrudgingly. “’Course, now that means we gotta go back through it when we leave.”

She then turned back towards Roseluck, fixing her with a look. “That still don’t answer my question, sugarcube.”

Rose fidgeted sheepishly at that. “I suppose not. Well, the short version is that some of us were asked by the princesses to share some of our knowledge about changeling magic not long ago – if you remember.”

Applejack nodded an affirmative to that.

“Well, that thing is one of the fruits of their labor. It is, essentially, a truth spell projector,” Roseluck explained. “Sort of like the one you used against Vigil’s troops in Ponyville. It’s only a prototype, though, so they’re still hammering a few things out.”

“Ah’ll say,” grumbled Applejack. “Ah don’t remember that spell bein’ nearly that strong.”

“Indeed,” Rose said, frowning. “Seems to me like they still have a lot of work to do before they get it right. Well, if it makes the royals feel like letting us in…”

“Come on, you guys!”

Applejack looked up, just as Twilight came impatiently storming down the stairs towards them. “We haven’t got all…”

The purple unicorn’s voice trailed off, however, the moment her eyes fell on Applejack.

For a time, she just stared at the dark chitin, the holey limbs, the tiny, almost silly-looking crown resting atop her head, and those eyes… those amber, twin-ringed eyes that were so alien they seemed almost illusory.

Quite a few ponies in the foyer stared, as well. What few of them had seen changelings thought they knew what to expect – that they were all practically identical beneath their disguises. But this amber-maned, amber-carapace-adorned changeling was contradicting a lot of those beliefs. Was she a hybrid? A freak of nature? Nopony could make up their mind.

But really, Applejack was ignorant to… most of their stares, at least. The only one she paid the most attention to was that of her friend’s, who seemed to have been struck dumb on the spot.

Applejack felt her chest clench painfully tight, and it took much more strength than it was worth to keep from expressing it.

Everypony jumped when the strange, amber changeling was suddenly swallowed by emerald flames, and the next thing anypony knew, there stood a Stetson-wearing earth pony in the creature’s place.

“Come on, sugarcube,” Applejack said, her voice almost mechanically even. “Let’s go. Don’t wanna keep the princesses waitin’ long.”

She didn’t wait for Twilight’s response. Nor did she force herself to meet the unicorn’s stare as she passed; not even once.

Author's Note

I actually learned a lot from writing this. Firstly, I have a real soft spot for writing Pinkie dialogue. It always puts me in such a good mood. I may have to write fic starring her at some point.

Secondly, I suck at meeting self-imposed deadlines. I blame the holiday season and all the social shenanigans it comes with.

Well, at any rate, happy belated jinglemas to everyone! (Or happy preemptive jinglemas, whichever the case may be.)
I'll probably turn this into a three-part deal. Was going for two, but three should be fine, now that my original plan is shot.

Well anyway, rate and comment to your heart's desire, and I'll see you in the next part.

Part 3

Don’t think about it. Just focus on what needs gettin’ done…

Again the thought passed through Applejack’s mind. It was swiftly turning into a chant that kept her on track and focused on her current task, and not on more… bothersome things.

In front of her, a congregation of changeling drones all stood with their undivided attention turned towards her, as was typical with any group of changelings she was presented with. Not one was disguised, and at last headcount Applejack had counted upwards of fifty huddled together, some craning their necks to get a look at their queen from over the shoulders of their fellows. Each passing minute saw more changelings passing security to come scampering over to the safety of the group, causing the gathering to slowly but surely swell as time went on.

And since they were all standing in the castle’s grand foyer, no matter how far off to one side they shuffled, they were nevertheless attracting a lot of attention from everypony and anypony. The guards, at least, were subtle about their gawking, resorting only to sidelong stoic surveillance with as minimal head movement as was physically possible, as if believing changeling eyesight was based on movement. The other guests, however, were less tactful to the point of being rude with their staring, hasty whispers – for the more polite ones – and quick departures.

Applejack was able to tune it out by giving the congregation in front of her all of the attention she could muster, sparing none for the oglers by the wayside.

“Alright,” she spoke up, loud enough for the tightly packed drones to hear her. “Now Ah know we went over the rules before comin’ here, but Ah just want ta make sure everypony is on the same page.”

Some nodded. Others waited quietly, looking antsy. The anxiety was nothing new to Applejack at this point; some drones hung off of her every word, as if half expecting to be quizzed on what they’d heard at a later time. It was clear that the presence of a changeling queen standing before them was even more stressful than standing inside the doors of Equestria’s seat of power. Perhaps, Applejack thought, it might’ve been better to let Roseluck and her group handle things after all.

I’m… I’m sorry, Applejack… I didn’t know… I was only trying…

Applejack’s shake of the head was masterfully subdued – barely more than a twitch to one side, her voice only catching in her throat for a fraction of a second. That was all that made it through her composure.

Don’t think about it. Just focus on what needs gettin’ done…

“Now, first off,” Applejack went on while raising one hoof for emphasis, her voice satisfyingly strong and level, “Princess Celestia has asked that we keep from changin’ durin’ the pageant. Ponies are still real nervous ‘round our kind right now, so let’s not go and give ‘em any real reason ta worry, and lettin’ ‘em keep track of us is probably the only thing we can do. If ya got reason ta disguise yourself, feel free ta bring it up with Rose’s group and they’ll take care of ya.”

Several of the drones nodded in understanding. One or two exchanged a quick glance with their neighbor, but for the most part their focus remained on Applejack.

“Secondly,” Applejack went on, sobering up a little bit, “If y’all have got pony families or loved ones here at the pageant… Ah hate ta tell ya this, but we ain’t gonna be able ta sit y’all together. Ah tried, but the board in charge of the pageant wouldn’t budge on seatin’ arrangements. Best we could do is get y’all seats as close together as possible.”

The reaction was predictable. Some of the drones looked disappointed, even a little crestfallen at the news. But none raised their voices, not even the pair of younglings that’d made the trip clinging – in one case literally – to their mothers’ sides. For those affected by her words, they simply took her news in stride, and kept their opinions private.

Some part of Applejack, buried deep down, almost wished that one of them would’ve objected, or at least shown more than resignation; to raise their voices and declare their treatment to be unfair, and to demand the equality afforded by the ponies surrounding them.

But the desire was nothing more than a strain of some darker emotion deep within Applejack’s heart – something she easily identified, then scorned into silence. Such thoughts were nothing but poison, born of nothing but foalish frustration; Unreasonable, irrational – stupid.

I’m sorry…

Focus, AJ.

“But once the pageant’s over,” Applejack added, trying to brighten up the mood for the group’s sake, “y’all are free ta spend the rest of the holiday with yer families, so don’t go worryin’ too much. It’s just a little extra security ta put the nobles at ease.”

The reaction wasn’t as satisfactory as the last, at least for Applejack. Whatever relief the relevant changelings felt was almost entirely kept in check except to dissipate whatever gloom had seeped into their demeanors. Even the Equestrian changelings were striving to be on their utmost best behavior while in her presence. Applejack still had a long way to go to get rid of that tendency of theirs, but given how apparently massive the divide was between drone and queen, it was likely going to be a very steep uphill battle.

“And of course, do yer best ta cooperate with the Royal Guard,” Applejack added, though at that point it should’ve gone without saying, and even she had to admit that her words sounded a little too rehearsed to sound natural. Still, it didn’t hurt to reiterate it, if only to give herself some peace of mind. “If there’s anythin’ yer still unclear on, or if ya need help with somethin’, be sure ta talk ta Rose’s group. And of course, my door is always open if ya need any help. Now, does anyone have any questions?”

Applejack could see the uncertainty flittering around the group after her last sentence. Bringing their personal problems to the queen herself still seemed like a daunting proposition for most changelings, especially the ones who hadn’t been in Equestria for long. Likely the only time Applejack would hear of any problems would be after it was mediated to her through someone else – usually Roseluck or her band of managers. It was mildly irksome to Applejack to be treated like some big bad boogiemare, but it wasn’t like she couldn’t understand why they acted the way they did; Applejack was aware of twelve solid reasons to the south – sometimes painfully so.

She still wasn’t expecting to get any sort of response to her question – no more than a few shaking heads or, Celestia forbid, a quickly mumbled “no, Your Highness” or two. A hive didn’t burden their queen with their problems – a hive burdened itself with the queen’s problems. That was just how it worked, as little as Applejack cared for such levels of idolism.

So when a squeaky voice actually did speak up, it took Applejack completely by surprise.

“U-u-um… I have a, um… a question, Your Highness, Miss Applejack… Ma’am,” squeaked a timid, shaky voice from the front of the crowd.

It wasn’t hard to find the speaker. She was standing right at the head of the group, one trembling hoof held up at shoulder height for all to see, as if to single herself out for whatever retribution may come.

The other changelings around her looked at her like she’d inexplicably gone mad. Most were looking at the meek drone with just as much surprise as Applejack was; none seemed able to fully process what’d just happened.

Applejack managed to bounce back quick enough, though. She blinked, then immediately smiled; this was a surprise she could stand, without a doubt.

“Oh! Well alright then, shoot. Anythin’ Ah can help with?”

The changeling shuffled nervously, probably trying to make herself appear as small and unthreatening as was physically possible. “Well, it’s… it’s not a question like… that,” she mumbled with extreme reluctance. “I was just, um, wondering if… if everything’s alright. You know… with you.”

Again, Applejack found herself taken aback, too surprised to make an intelligent response. “With… me? What makes ya ask that, sugarcube?” she asked, truly confused.

The drone was cringing so much now that it looked like she was halfway between standing and throwing herself on the floor, as if preparing to prostrate herself for forgiveness at the first sign of aggravation from Applejack. And yet she continued speaking, even if her already squeaky voice had risen a few octaves.

“Y-you seem… you seem…,” she floundered, gulped, then blurted out in one breath, “You seem troubled by something Your Highness any way we can help?”

Applejack paused, growing still as she processed the changeling’s rushed words. It took her a while, and even then, she couldn’t help but feel thunderstruck all over again.

She could’ve sworn she’d covered up perfectly. And yet this drone had seen through her? How had she slipped up? When?

On top of that, now that the question had been voiced, Applejack noticed several other drones giving her the same apprehensive look; not a kind born of some heightened sense of a perceived social gap, but a different kind that led Applejack to believe that while only one had managed to build up the nerve to speak, she had not been the only one with that question on her mind.

A hive exists to burden itself with a queen’s problems indeed. The drones were always so aware of her, always so perceptive of every little thing about her, especially it seemed whenever she least wanted them to be…

Applejack sighed, her smile slipping somewhat. But she managed to keep a trace of it, lest she really frighten the panicky changeling. “Don’t you be worryin’ about me,” Applejack said reassuringly. “Ah’m just fine. What Ah’m dealin’ with… it ain’t anythin’ Ah haven’t dealt with before. So don’t ya worry.”

The drone quickly nodded in understanding, accepting Applejack’s response without question. But still, the feelings in those big glowing eyes didn’t change. “O-of course, A-Applejack,” the changeling stammered, bowing graciously. “I apologize i-if I was too forward.”

Applejack rematerialized her smile almost immediately. “Nonsense. There ain’t nothin’ wrong with sayin’ what’s on yer mind, sugarcube,” she said bracingly.

“Just look at them all… The princesses have such bleeding hearts to favor savages like them…”

“… Most of the time,” Applejack amended, her smile souring upon hearing the barely whispered comment from somewhere behind her. She didn’t bother looking; odds are the culprit had already scurried off, and Applejack didn’t feel like wasting the energy anyway.

Some of the changelings exchanged glances, not entirely convinced by the looks of them. If anything, they seemed even more concerned than before. However, their courage had dried up, and now they had not a word to say.

But Applejack was undaunted. “Now, now, it’s fine,” she pressed, a little firmer this time. “The only thing Ah want y’all worryin’ about is havin’ a good time today. Think y’all can do that for me?”

It was underhanded, she grudgingly admitted, using the drones’ compulsory need to obey a queen’s orders against them, but if it got them to actually enjoy themselves, Applejack could put up with it. You can’t corral cattle without a little strong-arming once in a while, as her Pa used to say.

“Well… alright, Miss Applejack,” one of the drone spoke up, though he sounded noticeably hesitant about dropping the subject himself. “If you insist.”

“Ah do,” Applejack said with a kinder smile. “Now go have some fun, and Ah’ll see y’all at the pageant.”

Still more glances were had, but no one questioned her command. They moved off together, already taking in the sights and sounds, and probably looking for a familiar face or two. In time, they’d be too absorbed to ever trouble themselves on her behalf. At least, that was the hope.

Applejack watched them go, the rest of her breath escaping through her tired smile. Today really was proving to be a wearisome day…

A distant, echoing bong cut through the hustle and bustle of the foyer, catching Applejack off guard. Once… twice… Five times it rang out across the castle grounds, ringing through the halls and off the snow-covered towers for all to hear.

Applejack turned her head to follow the sound of the tolling clock tower… and inadvertently found herself gazing up the grand stairway dominating the back of the foyer, and the gigantic pair of double doors that stood atop them.

But it was beyond those double doors that gave Applejack pause. They were shut at the moment, but Applejack still could’ve sworn she heard the hubbub from the Great Hall echoing back to her like a disliked recurring memory.

…Ain’t anything Ah ain’t dealt with before… Ain’t that the truth…

Applejack sighed and turned to leave… only to realize she wasn’t by herself after all.

Ponies continued to filter through the front gate in a steady trickle. Aside from a few stares, most ponies gave the unusual, amber-maned changeling a wide berth, giving her plenty of personal space that few felt like intruding upon – that is, except for a single black figure with bright, staring eyes.

Roseluck stood less than ten feet behind her, watching Applejack quietly. Applejack knew it was her, even undisguised. There just weren’t that many changelings that would look at her like that.

There was something in her featureless blue eyes that twisted Applejack’s gut, almost like an accusation wrapped in deep worry that the young queen just couldn’t bring herself to face. It was a look that told Applejack that Rose had seen it all, and like the drone who’d spoken up, she’d seen straight through her like she hadn’t even been trying to put up a front. But unlike the drone from before, Rose wasn’t about to pretend to be satisfied.

Applejack looked away, hoping perhaps childishly that she’d be left alone. She lifted her chin, squared her shoulders and moved off, the picture of indifference.

She even almost made it passed the troubled drone, too.

“Applejack,” spoke Rose softly, but to the changeling in question, it felt almost like she’d been shouted at.

Applejack immediately stuttered to a halt, unwilling to meet the drone’s gaze – even though she could practically feel it boring into the side of her head.

“Some of us respect you too much to pry,” Roseluck added, her tone somber. “But that doesn’t mean we don’t worry about you.”

Applejack frowned, struggling with her composure. But then she let out her breath, visibly slouching an inch or two lower. “Don’t Ah know it, Rose,” she admitted heavily. “But these changelin’s have enough ta worry themselves over instead of every little problem Ah come across.”

“Problems that make you separate yourself from your friends?” Roseluck asked almost casually.

Applejack frowned, hard. She had half a mind to snap at the nosy drone to mind her own business and let her tend to hers. But she couldn’t quite follow through. Even as annoyed as she was, she simply couldn’t bring herself to do it. Her heart simply wasn’t in it.

Instead, she started walking, opting to not dignify Roseluck’s comment with an answer.

There was one problem, however; Roseluck had legs, too, and they were just as good at walking as hers were.

“I’m sorry,” Roseluck said apologetically, keeping up with Applejack’s quick stride. “That was out of line. It’s just… It’s been a while since I’ve seen you this upset.”

Applejack sighed through her nostrils. “Rose… yer makin’ a mountain outta a mole hill. It ain’t that big of a deal fer me, honest.”

Finally, she couldn’t keep from turning her head to meet her associate’s troubled stare. She offered a small but reassuring smile as best she could. “Ah wasn’t lyin’ when Ah said it ain’t nothin’ new. Ah’ve dealt with it before. Ah’ll get over it.”

She looked away then, unable to keep the corners of her mouth turned up any longer. “It’s just… the usual, Ah guess,” she finished dully.

Roseluck was silent for some time after that. In silence, they trotted through the double doors at the head of the foyer and into the hall beyond. Here, not so many ponies milled about. Only those on official business were allowed through for now, so save for the trace courier or patrolling guard, the corridor was virtually deserted. It was only then that Roseluck spoke up again, when there was no danger of being overheard.

“Applejack… I apologize if I am out of line again, but… when is being upset supposed to be normal?” she asked.

Applejack pursed her lips, her eyes not moving from the end of the hall. She didn’t seem keen on answering, and instead seemed more inclined to keep her silence, and through that, imply Rose should keep hers.

Roseluck remained quiet, recognizing a strained temper when she saw one, but on the inside, she was anything but. Perhaps she was pushing the boundaries of their relationship a little much, but even amongst Applejack’s closest friends, Rose knew that she didn’t open up unless backed into a corner. As it stood, Roseluck was plenty aware that she was nowhere near that level, and in no position to pry any of the changeling queen’s woes from her.

On top of that, she was trying to wrest said woes from a queen. Relationship aside, the social divide between drone and queen was one of the few ironclad realities left to the changelings, and ignoring that gap was simply not something that happened, even to a drone as desensitized as Roseluck. Every now and then the pony in her got the better of her sensibilities, but never for long. Why, if her mother had heard even a part of what she’d just said to Applejack, she’d have had her hide tanned until the sun came up again.

To question is not our place! To answer is! Her mother’s old mantra, cast aside and forgotten until recently, played through her head again.

The pony in her yearned to help. The changeling in her, however, dictated respectful silence before she acted completely insubordinate. Frustrating, yes, but she had her place in the scheme of things. And that was not –

“Can Ah ask ya a question, Rose?” asked Applejack completely out of the blue.

Okay, that one she could work with.

Roseluck had to scramble to reorganize her thoughts and compose herself. She nevertheless still almost missed a step and fell flat on her face out of sheer surprise.

Applejack’s expression had… well, softened might be the wrong word for it. Dulled sounded more appropriate, unfortunately. The sharpness to her mood had lost it’s edge, worn down by something else hiding behind Applejack’s composed mask. But if there was an explanation to be had in her face, Applejack was still hiding it too well for Roseluck to spot.

“Of course, Applejack,” she said while trying not to sound surprised that she’d feel the need to ask in the first place. Our place is to answer…

The changeling queen still wasn’t looking at her, but the dull set to her eyes told Roseluck that there was something very much weighing on her mind. That was the first time she’d been able to clearly interpret it, so guarded was Applejack at any one time. Or, to put it better perhaps, so strong-willed was she.

“Daisy and Lily… they’re ponies, right?” Applejack asked plainly.

Her question startled Roseluck. Why in Equestria would she ask a question like that, especially since Rose was fairly certain she already knew the answer?

Equal parts curious and cautious, Roseluck chose her words carefully. “… Yes, they are.”

Something crossed Applejack’s face – not necessarily something dark, but definitely something… gloomier than usual. “Was it ever… hard livin’ together?” she asked.

Applejack had tried a little too hard to make her question sound casual. But Roseluck picked up on it. When one such as Applejack kept so much to herself, it was up to ones such as Roseluck to learn to spot the smallest details to make sense of. It took a while, but sooner or later, it became clear what kind of mood she might be in beneath her thick skin.

At the same time, a picture was starting to formulate in the back of Roseluck’s mind in the same way scum forms on the surface of a pond; unpleasantly. She was starting to get a sense of what was bothering Applejack and, at the same time, coming to realize that it may have been as bad as – if not worse than – as she’d suspected.

Again, Roseluck found herself picking her words with considerable care. “I… would be lying if I said no,” she said honestly. “But I am as guilty of that as they were. I was young… some would say confident.” She snorted. “Head-strong would be more appropriate, I freely admit.”

Seeing Applejack turn her head to look at her, Roseluck’s mouth twitched up a little. “I was a little younger than you are now when I met them,” she said. “It was… the first time I’d ever left the hive. I’d like to say I did so voluntarily, but… I think you know what really happened.”

Applejack nodded grimly. She did.

Roseluck looked forward again, but her eyes didn’t seem to watch where she was headed. They just gazed off into nothingness, her expression becoming almost vacant.

“I was half-starved, weak in many ways and delirious with a fever from wandering around in the rain when they found me,” Rose said. “I didn’t even have enough strength to keep disguised. Really, I thought I was the last one left; I’d been searching the Everfree for days, looking for anyone else. I guess at some point, I found my way into Ponyville. I… don’t remember much, only that I stumbled into a yard while Daisy and Lily were weatherproofing their gardens.”

Roseluck shook her head, laughing humorlessly. “Maker, the looks they gave me when they saw this –” she nodded to her chest to indicate her unintentionally monstrous visage – “I thought they were going to run away and call for somepony bigger to finish me off. But… they didn’t.”

Again she huffed, but this time her smile wasn’t nearly as empty. “I don’t remember who saved me; I passed out before I made it a step further. It was probably Daisy… Lily is too timid, though she has surprised me before. When I woke up next, I was in their house, stowed away in a back room where they kept their produce. They had so many roses… When they asked for my name, that’s all I could say. So, the name stuck. They called me Lucky Rose for a very long time, because even with them nursing me back to health, it was no small miracle that I survived. I didn’t even have the magic to fend off a common cold, and for several months it seemed like I would get better only to fall sick again. Sometimes, being so utterly dependent on magic we can’t produce ourselves can be quite the curse.”

Applejack gave her an inquisitive look, frowning. “So… Roseluck ain’t yer real name?”

Rose merely smiled at her. “Forgive me if I sound a tad cryptic, but Roseluck is my real name… just not my first. Whoever I was before Daisy and Lily took me in, well… I left her behind in the Everfree, along with many other things. But anyway, you didn’t ask me how I came to be in Ponyville.”

Roseluck’s expression straightened, becoming serious. “We had our hardships, I admit. For the first few days, one would think none of us even spoke the same language. They were both always so cautious around me; poor Lily couldn’t stand being left in the same room as me by herself unless she really had to be. Daisy was always acting like she was stepping on eggshells around me, too; always acting overly cautious of what mood I was in. It took them hours just to decide what to feed me when I first turned up because they were afraid I had a… meatier… diet.”

Roseluck sighed. “I tried to tell them as little as possible – at least until I got better – in case something prompted them to kick me out. It was selfish, but if for whatever reason I scared them… I knew I’d never survive in the open world. At the same time, it was something of a learning process adapting to their behaviors and mannerisms. The way they could live without ever being told what to do – how they could just all of a sudden decide to do something by themselves, without anypony coming along to deliver orders… I couldn’t wrap my head around it. It seemed foolhardy and irrational, like they were simply doing whatever struck their fancy without the slightest bit of thought. At first it felt like they had no structure governing their lives. Just whimsy and brash recklessness.”

Applejack couldn’t help but sympathize in some way. Being friends with Rainbow Dash, the most brash, most reckless pony around, she could understand Rose’s reservations about trusting somepony like that with taking care of her.

“It was worrying at times, in all honesty,” went on Rose, a hint of melancholy in her voice as she stared off into memories. “It took me a while, but eventually, I realized that that was just how ponies live, not just Daisy and Lily. But that did not happen for quite a while.

“I expected to only stay with them for a month or so – to at least recover enough to fend for myself, and then I would continue looking for the rest of the hive. That was what I told myself; that that house and those two were only temporary, and that inevitably I would have to leave them behind, get back to my old life, and let them get on with theirs. Someone like me, and someponies like them… we just weren’t meant to mingle for long.”

Applejack bit her lip, her heart weighing heavily in her chest. But Applejack kept herself composed, struggling to seem sympathetic without hanging off of Roseluck’s every word like a desperate filly, which she most certainly, most definitely was not. “Did… did anythin’ happen ta change that?” she asked.

To her relief, Roseluck smiled softly. “Yes, it did,” Roseluck said.

Mid-step, her wings unexpectedly buzzed to life, taking the task of walking off of her forelegs so that she could lift them up, turn her hooves inward, and bring them to within a millimeter of each other’s bottoms, like she was miming holding onto something with both hooves.

And as Applejack watched in total confusion, she saw it – a jolt of emerald light, arcing from one hoof to the other with an audible pop Applejack could hear even at arm’s length. More currents of changeling magic curled and arced between Roseluck’s hooves with an audible buzz and occasional pop, radiating a soft heat only slightly warmer than a candle that made Applejack’s chitin tingle unusually. Roseluck just gazed at it, her shoulders tensed with exertion and her expression focused yet unreadable.

“One day, I was helping in the garden,” Roseluck explained. “I couldn’t do much back then, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t try. I had something of a debt to work at repaying, after all. We were working on planting seeds – hydrangeas, I remember it so clearly. Daisy was digging the holes, Lily was putting in the seeds, and I was packing the dirt. When I started on the first seed… I felt it.”

She looked up towards Applejack, grinning rather uncharacteristically for the usually composed mare, her eyes twinkling. “You know what I’m talking about, don’t you? That sensation that feels like the ground is reverberating through the bottoms of your hooves, like there’s a static charge lingering in the dirt.”

Applejack smiled. Yes, she knew that sensation. She’d felt it every day she toiled in the orchards – in every tree she bucked, in every leaf she pruned, and in every seed she planted. It wasn’t something that could be easily or accurately described in a single try – everypony had their own version, truth be told. To her, it felt like heat seeping from the ground into her hooves, like a hot cup of cocoa settling in her muscles instead of her belly. But she knew it; every earth pony alive did.

Roseluck’s glowing eyes twinkled in response. “When I pulled my hoof back, there was a tiny sprout sticking up out of the dirt. We both know hooves can’t do that. But what courses through our hooves… that can.”

Roseluck set herself back down abruptly, letting a stray curl of emerald lightning dance through the air as she drew her hooves away and relaxed her shoulders.

“For the first time in… over a year, Applejack, I’d used magic. I had magic to use, and I hadn’t even realized it! And no small amount of it to make a seed sprout like that without using my horn,” she said excitedly.

A beat later, she calmed. Maybe she’d realized she’d been getting carried away and recomposed herself, though Applejack had a sneaking suspicion that something else was responsible.

“And… there was really only one place it could’ve come from,” she said, her voice dropping noticeably. “When I found that out… I realized how self-absorbed I’d been. I’d been too fixated on their cautiousness to ever wonder why they acted that way. And that’s when I took a step back and noticed things I should’ve seen all along.”

Roseluck looked down, her expression subduing further. “Lily, Daisy… they’ve always been a lonely pair. Nopony really paid any attention to them until I showed up, and they never were the outgoing types to begin with. And despite my best efforts… they grew attached. I don’t know when it started, I don’t know why it started. I just know that they wanted me – this –” she gestured to her chitinous, fanged, savage visage again, “—to stay with them. When I realized that, I figured out that I’d been looking at our problem all wrong.”

Roseluck shook her head, looking disappointed in herself for her past oversights. “I am a changeling. They are ponies. We are as different as two races can be… but only if we can’t see around it.”

Roseluck lifted her head again. Only this time, she wore a look so resolute and sure it was unlike anything Applejack had ever thought to expect from her. “I am a changeling… who has spent her life gardening and cultivating flowers, learning the intricacies of flower arrangement and living contentedly with the two she holds the most dear. And now, in her off time, she mediates the needs of a growing changeling community, like she was born to do a lifetime ago.”

She turned then; just enough to settle her twinkling eyes on Applejack. Without even realizing it, they’d come to a complete standstill in the hallway, but Applejack seemed entirely oblivious to that fact up until that moment.

“So, Applejack, forgive me if this seems like an entirely unnecessary question by now, but… who are you?”

Applejack stared, she blinked, and then she quickly looked away before her crumbling composure could betray her.

“Ah… am somepony with a lot ta think about.”

Roseluck seemed to fight back a chuckle or two. Then she did something that confused Applejack.

The drone lifted a hoof, started to reach towards her… and then just as quickly replaced her hoof back where it’d been. Rose didn’t even seem aware she’d done it; her expression didn’t even shift, though she wasn’t quite looking Applejack in the eye. What exactly she’d been intending to do, Applejack would never know, but for whatever reason it left her feeling just a tad dissatisfied.

“All I’m trying to say, Applejack, is that even if our species aren’t the same, our hearts are not so different. So… you shouldn’t give up on your friends yet,” Roseluck said bracingly. “As your advisor, I’d very much advise against it.”

Applejack couldn’t help but crook an eyebrow, bemused by the changeling’s sudden lapse into professionalism. “And what about as a friend, sugarcube?” she asked, smiling faintly.

It’d been a simple question – for a pony, anyway. Roseluck, however, was not a pony, and now she looked at the changeling queen like she’d just been blindsided. “As… as a friend?” she asked dumbly, blinking repeatedly.

It was the first time, in all the time Applejack had known her, that she’d ever seen the dutiful mare actually struck dumb. It really was a sight to behold; a changeling drone, frozen in place, eyes as big as dinner plates and mouth ever so slightly agape. To look at her, one would think Applejack had just asked her if she’d like to be a queen, too.

“Yeah, Rose, as a friend,” Applejack chortled, struggling to keep her grin polite.

With each passing second now, Roseluck started to restart. Applejack knew this, because with each passing second, the drone got steadily more and more flustered.

Now it was all she could do to look anywhere but at Applejack. “Oh! Oh gosh, um… well, uh, if I had to think… f-from a… a friend’s perspective…”

Applejack’s eyebrow was hitching up higher. “Yes?”

Roseluck shuffled nervously in response. “I’d… I’d have to say… that you should still believe in your… your friends because they… you know… are likely to have the same thoughts troubling them as well.”

Applejack exhaled through her nose and turned to face the end of the long, long hall ahead of her. What little grin she had on her face disappeared, leaving her looking pensive once again. “Ah don’t know how, but… there’s one way to find out fer sure.”

~~***~~

Applejack trotted in silence, eyes down and watching her own black hooves as she made her way down the length of a long hallway lined with towering arched windows so impractically huge only unicorns could’ve conceived them.

The sky beyond those windows was dark, brooding with a collection of storm clouds dappling the horizon. What little sky was visible had turned a spectacular shade of bloody crimson, like red-hot magma under a blackened crust that’d come to cover the heavens. It was getting late, no matter how much Applejack tried not to think about that.

Every now and then, Applejack’s attention would be grabbed by a flutter of movement outside a nearby window, and when she’d look, she find snow drifting from the sky – in oddly small patches. When she’d look up, she would find the culprits; squads of pegasi carefully and deliberately escorting relatively small bundles of black storm clouds around the highest spires of Canterlot Castle for some precision snow placement, likely a last minute effort to make sure everything was as enchanting as was equinely possible for the impending pageant.

The hall she found herself in was deserted for the most part, barring a few stationed guards who couldn’t help but glance in the changeling’s direction, scrutinizing her unusual appearance warily for any signs of a threat. Applejack was impervious to their looks, however; it wasn’t anything new, especially in the castle, and at least the guards had enough sense to not be obvious. Besides, she was plenty preoccupied with other things.

Having left Rose to attend to further changeling arrivals, Applejack was alone with her thoughts, which was a good thing; she still had much to sort through, and more to deal with. Likely she would need many long corridors such as this one before she worked through everything, but since she didn’t have the time nor patience for such a herculean task, she would have to make do with what she had on hoof.

Her slow, steady pace was giving Applejack the time she needed, at least, to organize her thoughts and compose herself anew for the task ahead, instead of stewing in her own malignant musings like she would be doing if she let her mind wander however it saw fit.

So she’d wandered along the scenic route back to the Great Hall to buy herself a few extra minutes; she had time still, and it wasn’t like she had no experience nor practice in her upcoming part. The mirror in the bathroom back home would attest to that if it could.

All things considered, she felt calm, unusually so. Usually at a time like this she’d be on guard, braced amply to take whatever her friends could throw at her when she saw them next. It was a trained response unfortunately, one that she’d only just gotten used to. Though, as recent events have shown, she thought, maybe not as much as she’d figured.

But now… now, she wasn’t as tense as she could’ve been. She was just… calm. Maybe she was getting used to being treated the way she was – an unpleasant thought, but a grudgingly plausible one. Or maybe…

Applejack paused to glance out a window, once again distracted by the weather ponies busily bustling through the sky with their little storm clouds, constantly gauging the spread of snowdrifts on the ground below.

Maybe, she thought to herself, she had something else nagging at her now…

It was with that in mind that she turned, lifted her gaze towards the end of the hall before her, and was on the verge of sinking back into the more tangled recesses of her mind… only to bear witness to something most peculiar in the distance.

For just a fraction of a second, she could’ve sworn she saw a something multi-hued flash from one side of the hall to the other. This event was followed by the more definite phenomena of a loud series of alarming bangs and crashes, along with a few telltale shrieks of terror and maybe an explosion or two.

Applejack stared for a long time, not entirely sure what she’d just witnessed – or if she should go get help – when she spotted a head poke out from around a towering marble column some thirty meters ahead of her.

At least, she thought it was a head. Whatever it was, it seemed to be partially wrapped in what looked like some kind of bright, toxic green banner, fixtures and all still attached with little stubs of stone on the ends from where it’d been ripped from the wall. Around the purported head hung a brass sign on a tangled length of chain, hitching it higher on one side than the other – a sign that read simply:

Royal Apothecary

Danger: Authorized Ponies Only

It was a very absurd sight, one that Applejack wasn’t sure if she should laugh at or be worried about.

She got her answer in no time at all at least, when the strange, tangled up creature suddenly cried out in a carrying – and all-too familiar – voice.

“Applejack! There you are!”

It was Rainbow. That simple fact shouldn’t have surprised Applejack quite as much as it did, but her brain still found itself unable to process the amount of information her eyes and ears were giving her.

Conversely, Rainbow was already in motion.

She tried to launch herself in the direction of the stalled changeling – tried being the operative word. After falling, flailing fervently and uttering a few choice profanities not fit for filly ears, she managed to untangle herself from the mess of fabric and metal, pause to kick a bit of bracketing off her hind leg rather casually, and then streak at breakneck speeds towards a still stationary Applejack in less time than it took her target to inhale a gasp and stand up straight in alarm.

Fortunately, the only thing to hit Applejack was the speedy pegasus’ tailwind. Rainbow managed to come to a screeching halt just before she could collide with anything else.

More alarmingly, however, Rainbow was staring at Applejack with wild eyes, looking so worked up that it was putting the changeling on edge.

“Applejack,” Rainbow blurted out, her words tumbling over themselves in their haste to get out. “I just want you to know that this wasn’t my idea.”

“Wha—”

That was all she got out before something else happened that she didn’t – or couldn’t – think to expect.

Rainbow lunged, moving faster than Applejack. Even then, it still took Applejack several very long seconds of feeling a pair of hooves around her neck to come up with some sort of explanation, no matter how strange it seemed to be.

For some reason, her friend seemed to be trying to gingerly throttle her. It was the only thing that made sense… as little of it there was. It could’ve been a hug, except Rainbow was leaning her head so far away from Applejack’s that one would think she’d suddenly developed a putrid smell. It was as if she was deathly afraid of touching one side of the changeling’s face with her own. A spot just behind one of her leathery ears, perhaps.

“Uh… RD… whatcha doin’?” Applejack asked uncertainly, her voice an octave or two too high. She still hadn’t ruled out the possibility that her friend was trying to kill her for some reason, and just happened to be really bad at it.

A moment later, an awkward Rainbow let her go and moved back. Yet, she seemed to now be frowning as well, as if dissatisfied. “I dunno; it was Pinkie’s idea,” she grumbled, tracing circles in the carpet with her hoof.

“… Beg pardon?” Applejack said, even more confused than before.

Rainbow gave her a really uncomfortable look, opened her mouth to say something – and was immediately cut off by a blaring noise.

“CUT!” shrieked an irritated – and impossibly loud – voice right in Applejack’s right ear, causing her to flinch and jump a foot in the air.

And there, hardly a pony-length away off to one side, was a megaphone-wielding Pinkie Pie, who looked very cross indeed in her director’s chair. How she’d gotten there with so much stuff and still not made a single noise was a mystery no living thing would ever solve.

“Okay, from the top,” she said critically, “let’s do that again, only better. Like, five times better. Ooh! Maybe seven! Yes, seven times better! No wait, eight!... No, definitely seven.”

Now Rainbow was flustered. Applejack, meanwhile, had adopted the fitting look of a deer caught in the headlights.

“Come on, Pinkie!” Dash complained, “Can’t I do something else? This is so lame!”

“Uh… would somepony mind tellin’ me what the hay is goin’ on?”

“But Dashie!” whined Pinkie even more than the pegasus, “You’re trying to make up for getting Applejack mad, and as Granny Pie used to say, ‘when things are getting tough and a sorry is not enough, just hug it out and you’ll forget about… it… No, that doesn’t sound right…”

While the pink pony sat down and put a thoughtful hoof to her chin, Rainbow Dash squirmed, scowling in self-defense. “I know what we’re doing, Pinkie,” she griped. “I just don’t get why we have to do it like that! I mean, she’s wearing meh… mistle… She’s not a hugger,” she blurted loudly, which earned her a confused look from Applejack.

“Ah aint?”

“No. You’re not.”

“Aw, but Dashie,” whined Pinkie, giving her best, most winningest smile she could. “It would look soooooo super cute!”

And just like that, Rainbow’s expression turned flat. “Okay, no,” she grunted shortly, turned to Applejack, and while still wearing the same expression, said, “Applejack, I’m sorry for hurting your feelings. We’re still cool, right?”

Applejack could only cock an eyebrow at her in disbelief, her brain reengaging. She may not have the whole story – Celestia knows if anypony did if Pinkie and Rainbow were collaborating – but she had a good inclination as to what was going on. “Is that the best ya can do?”

Rainbow pointed at the changeling’s chest threateningly. “Don’t. Push me,” she growled temperamentally. “I already know I messed up. There, I said it; happy now? I messed up and hurt your feelings and I’m an awful friend! What’s the point of me saying it, huh?”

The bite to her words, Applejack suddenly realized, was not aimed at her – not at all. Rainbow still looked at Applejack as if daring her to laugh or tease her for her comment, but the anger burning in her eyes looked less like anger, and more like pain.

But Applejack merely stood in place, nothing on her face but wide-eyed surprise, her mouth firmly shut.

Seeing that no snide comment was coming like she’d been dreading, Rainbow finally lost heart and glanced away, rubbing the back of her neck.

“Yeah, so… that’s all I was gonna say…” She managed to glance in Applejack’s direction, hold her gaze for a heartbeat, then avert her gaze all over again. “I’m… sorry. I won’t ever let it happen again, I swear.”

Even though Rainbow couldn’t bring herself to look her friend in her amber eyes anymore, she still gave her her undivided attention. That much was clear, considering the pegasus kept twitching every time the changeling so much as shifted her weight. Rainbow was keenly aware of every little reaction Applejack had to give, even if she was too embarrassed to look for it directly.

Even then, she did not expect what Applejack did next.

In one move, Applejack lifted one hoof, and knocked Rainbow on her forehead with a quick, disciplinary rap.

Rainbow recoiled with a yelp, her hooves flying up to her brow. But even stranger still was the sound that followed suit from her attacker; a single, low chuckle escaping through fanged lips.

“Rainbow, yer actin’ silly,” Applejack said, shaking her head in mock despair.

Even Pinkie stared in amazement.

“W-what was that for?” Rainbow griped, looking hurt.

“That,” Applejack said curtly through a polite smile, “was yer punishment. Now we’re even, sugarcube.”

Somehow, Rainbow had the nerve to look at her friend with wide-eyed astonishment. “That’s it?!” she gasped. “But-but, you were so mad! The last time I saw you, you looked like you were ready to buck somepony’s face in!”

Applejack pursed her lips – the better to hide her incredulity. “Ah’m gettin’ the feelin’ y’all have a real hurtful view of my disposition,” she said, fighting back her humor.

Immediately she had Rainbow backpedalling as fast as equinely possible. “N-no, I didn’t mean – I wasn’t saying –”

Another light smack on the forehead cut her off.

“Easy there, sugarcube,” Applejack said with a smile. “Ah’m only pullin’ yer leg. Ya don’t need ta get so worked up over somethin’ so small. Ah’m just fine, honest. All Ah needed was some time ta cool off.”

Rainbow still looked at Applejack like she simply couldn’t believe her ears. “Applejack, I’ve seen you get mad for weeks over smaller stuff than this. It hasn’t even been half an hour and you’re already over it?”

“Over it?” Applejack questioned back, her attitude noticeably cooling. “No. Ah don’t appreciate bein’ coddled and all y’all should know it. But…”

While Rainbow flinched, the changeling sighed, relenting. “… Ah know what y’all were tryin’ ta do, and the fact that ya were, after… everythin’, Ah guess… it means more than whatever ya did ta get on my nerves.”

Now Rainbow exchanged a look with Pinkie, who seemed just as lost as her partner in crime. “…Okay, spill it,” Rainbow shot, giving the amber-maned changeling a suspicious once-over. “What the hay happened after you left?”

Some of the mirth evaporated off of Applejack’s features, her teasing grin finally reined in by a more serious undercurrent. “Someone went and reminded me of somethin’ important,” she said simply. “Nothin’ more to it.”

She reached out and patted Rainbow on the shoulder, much to her surprise, all the while keeping her own amusement in check. “Y’all are my friends, sugarcube. We’ve been through thick and thin together. Ain’t nothin’ gonna change that.”

Applejack then leaned to one side – all the better to speak out over Rainbow’s unmoving shoulder. “The same goes for the rest of ya, too!” she called out.

She’d seen Rarity’s uniquely coifed tail sticking out around a distant corner, even if the rest of her was trying its best to remain unseen. And where there was one…

Sure enough, when a certain alabaster unicorn stuck her head out in the open, so did another, bashful pegasus.

Both guiltily made their way over to the rest of the group; Rarity, in her case, holding her chin up somewhat, owning up to her choices on some level while Fluttershy trotted along in her shadow, head held lower in apology.

“I’m ever so sorry for all of this, darling,” Rarity said, looking sincere at least. “We simply could not talk Pinkie out of it. But we also had to find some way to apologize for that mess we made for ourselves.”

“Yeah, and they picked me to do it,” Rainbow grumbled sourly.

“’Picked’?” Rarity echoed, shooting Dash a sidelong look that she deliberately did not return.

“We didn’t mean to hurt your feelings,” Fluttershy said earnestly, ignoring the two in favor of Applejack. “We just didn’t want you to get hurt even more.”

“A lot has happened to you lately,” Rarity said, her tone dropping. “Why, having one’s whole world turned upside down is no small thing, even for somepony like you. Not to mention recent… losses.”

Rainbow shot her a warning glance, but Rarity showed no more signs of elaborating anyway. Still, it’d been the closest they’d all come to acknowledging the newest plot in the Apples' corner of the cemetery.

Even the slight mention brought a pang to Applejack’s heart, but she hid it. That pain was a pain she was accustomed to carrying.

Just as the mood was on the verge of dipping even further, it was saved by the loudest, cheeriest pony there.

“And we wanted to make sure you knew we weren’t being big meanies,” Pinkie chimed in. She was still smiling, but there was something more subdued than usual in her eyes. “Looking out for a friend is what a friend is supposed to do! Today is supposed to be a super special, amazing day for everypony as well as everyone! But we were trying a teensy bit too hard to make it super special for you, too. Soooo…”

A look of pure concentration crossed Pinkie’s features; the tip of her tongue poked out of the corner of her mouth while her eyes narrowed, sights locked directly on a motionless farmer. What nopony saw was Pinkie’s tail quite literally coiling like a spring to launch her out of her seat. Everypony figured out what she was doing, however, when she was catapulted forward, hooves outstretched to give Applejack the biggest, squeeziest hug she’d yet been subjected to by the party pony, and that was quite an extensive list.

It was the kind of hug only Pinkie could give; the kind that could melt even the coldest of hearts. Or, in Applejack’s case at that moment, cause borderline strangulation.

“Sorry,” whispered the most sincere, most apologetic voice Applejack had ever heard before in her ear. But when she turned, taken aback by that tone, Pinkie was just as bright and sunny as before, even if there was something not quite right to the set of her eyes.

“Changelings, ponies, it doesn’t matter when we’re all friends!” she said cheerfully. “Because that’s what we are; friends! And friends look out for each other!”

All of the ponies chimed in with agreement all around her. Rainbow, Rarity, Fluttershy, Pinkie; all were smiling. At her. Not her fangs, or her horn, or her strange eyes, or holes or wings. Her.

And that, right there, was the moment it clicked for Applejack. The moment Roseluck had described; the moment it hit her how wrong she’d been looking at everything.

She’d told herself she understood, that she got it. But it wasn’t until then that it finally sank into her. Her friends – Rainbow, Rarity, Pinkie, Fluttershy, Twilight – they were all struggling to hang on to the same as thing she was. Each other.

That also happened to be when Applejack’s composure went crack.

Pinkie squeaked when she was suddenly pulled in for a hug, Applejack hiding her face against her shoulder so that nopony could see it.

“Thanks, y’all. Just… thanks…”

She heard the pink pony giggle softly – so softly it was almost under her breath. She could just barely make out through Pinkie’s poofy, curly mane the shapes of the rest of her friends moving in all around her, but it did not distract her from Pinkie’s private response. “What are friends for, right?”

“Right…”

~~***~~

Twilight had a lot on her mind. Granted that wasn’t unusual, but… in this case, she had a lot to think about.

And for the past five minutes, most of that quote-unquote ‘thinking’ involved repeatedly smacking her head against a marble balustrade.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid!” she hissed at herself, punctuating each word with another headbutt. Either she was going to knock herself unconscious and – hopefully – cause irreparable damage to this annoying, bothersome thing between her ears, or she would cause enough property damage to have her thrown in the dungeons for being such a stupid, destructive filly and never be allowed in public again. At this point, she’d take either.

Twilight paused, a little wobbly on her hooves and feeling a little punch drunk to boot. She slumped onto the guard rail in front of her while she caught her breath and tried not to watch how the space in front of her rocked to and fro, like a ship at sea.

She was currently standing on a balcony overlooking one end of the Great Hall. Before her, the countless rows of seats stood on either side of an impossibly long, embroidered red carpet, which led all the way up to the expansive stage dominating the spacious hall.

Ponies in far better, less troubled moods than her still scuttled around the stage, putting the finishing touches on the sequestered orchestra pit, testing the lighting around the hall magically, and generally milling about, looking for last-minute details that had the gall to not be absolutely perfect for the rapidly approaching pageant. Meanwhile, the orchestra was tuning their instruments, filling the hall with a disjointed, almost eerie sound.

Twilight, however, stood alone on the empty, dimly lit balcony. Seats were behind her as well, and judging by the sheer extravagance of them, they were reserved for no common folk, who could be filing in at any minute.

The lavender unicorn didn’t care, however. She had enough tormenting thoughts to occupy her, thank you very much.

“Why? Why can’t I do this right?” she moaned despairingly. “Why do I keep messing up so… so… badly?”

The empty chairs behind her didn’t feel like giving her the answers to her woes. All she got was the distant tuning of instruments and muffled conversations of oblivious ponies.

Twilight groaned heavily, slumping still further until she was resting her cheek against the cold marble of the balustrade that ran the length of the balcony’s edge.

“Why can’t Applejack be… Applejack anymore?” she mumbled. “Is wanting her to stay the same really… so much to ask for?”

“You have some nerve, Twilight Sparkle.”

Twilight yelped, jumping upright at the same time. This time she had gotten a response from somepony standing almost immediately behind her.

She whirled around in shock, and there – standing only a few short feet away – stood an irritable Verily Vermillion.

To be fair, an ‘irritable’ Verily was hardly recognizable from how she normally was, except that there was now an exceptionally dangerous flash in her eyes, and her mouth – already thin to begin with – had become the thinnest of lines, as if surgically cut by a scalpel.

Before Twilight could say anything, Verily cut across her as she moved purposefully towards the balcony railing. “I understand that Applejack is a very busy mare of late, so her turning up late for our meeting was one thing. But then I find out you had disappeared completely… I do hope you and your friends are capable of summoning up more professionalism in the next hour before the pageant, Miss Sparkle. Need I remind you how many eyes will be watching if you don’t?”

Twilight was quailing under the clipped, icy fury emitting from Verily like frigid condensation. Perhaps irritable had been the wrong emotion. Downright angry might’ve fit better.

“S-sorry, Miss Verily,” Twilight stammered, all the while feeling like she was steadily shrinking in the livid mare’s presence. “I just… I needed to sort some things out. I promise everypony will be ready in time for the pageant.”

It was a hollow promise, and Twilight knew it. She could barely speak for herself, and how Applejack would even be able to stand to see her right now, let alone stand on stage and act with her was beyond her. And whatever solution there was, it would most definitely need more time than a measly hour to prepare properly.

Twilight was expecting Verily to say something, probably to the effect of being thoroughly unconvinced or at the very least letting her short temper be known, but to her surprise the mare remained unsettlingly quiet.

She watched Twilight out of the corner of her piercing eye, her expression unreadable and thoughts her own for some time, long enough for Twilight to turn back towards the hall, glum as ever.

When she did speak up again, her voice was oddly level, especially for what she said. “I have also become aware that you and your friends were making some rather untoward assumptions about me,” she said evenly.

Twilight’s reaction was satisfying; she flinched as if electrocuted, leaving her frozen for a moment or two in a state of shock before she could process the statement she’d heard.

“I-I… who told you that?” she stammered.

Verily cocked an eyebrow. “Is that really the first thing you should say to me?”

Again, Twilight winced, but this time she settled down into a gloomier demeanor. “No… you’re right.”

She then straightened up, turned to face Verily fully – an action that mildly surprised her, if she was perfectly honest – and held her head low.

“Miss Verily – or rather, Missus Verily – I’m sorry for jumping to conclusions over what kind of a pony you are. I’ve just been seeing the worst in so many ponies lately that I… No, that’s just an excuse. I should have considered everything more carefully. So… I’m sorry.”

Verily didn’t seem to react to Twilight’s apology. She continued to stand there, cool as a statue, utterly composed. Yet, the truth of the matter was that she was actually struck speechless. She was just very good at hiding it.

Twilight didn’t pick up on it – few ponies ever did. Only when Verily’s temper frayed did others seem acutely aware of her state of mind.

The lavender unicorn turned away with a heavy sigh, once again slouching onto the marble railing. “Ever since I… found out what my friend Applejack really is, it feels like I constantly have to protect her from the rest of Equestria. First Canterlot, then Ponyville… changelings haven’t left a very good impression on anypony lately.”

Twilight bit her lip and started fidgeting restlessly with her hooves. “It wasn’t always like this – I wasn’t always like this. But then again, Applejack wasn’t always a changeling to me…”

She trailed off, sinking deeper into whatever pit of worry and doubt she’d dug for herself.

Verily merely stood in silence, so stoic she could’ve given any of the Guard a run for their bits. Whatever agitation or restlessness she must’ve felt, she didn’t let any of it slip through her façade.

Twilight couldn’t help but notice that, which only further made her uneasy in the imposing director’s presence. It was as if Verily was waiting for something; perhaps an answer to some question Twilight had forgotten she’d asked.

But instead, when Twilight looked over at the red mare, something else came to mind entirely; or rather, someone.

“Miss Verily,” Twilight started, licking her lips apprehensively. “Or, I mean… Missus Verily… I know I’m in no position to ask you this, but if you wouldn’t mind… What is it like, being married to a changeling?”

Verily’s only reaction was to sweep her eyes back towards the distant stage, blank-faced. “What is it like having earth ponies and pegasi for friends?” she retorted coolly.

Twilight floundered for a moment, grappling with her usually quick-witted mind. “Th-that’s different.”

“Is it?” Verily asked, arching an eyebrow skeptically. “I can’t imagine how. Certainly we all have our physical differences, but I hardly pegged you for somepony with such superficial perceptions.”

Even in her depressed state, Twilight found it in her to feel a pang of indignation. “Changelings are very different from ponies,” she said petulantly. “They change shapes, they have no self-sufficient magic capabilities while being completely dependent upon magic for virtually every –”

“Yes, yes,” Verily cut across. Somehow she knew that if she’d let the studious unicorn finish her tirade, she’d only come away from it with an even worse headache than before. “All of which are physical properties. By the same token, all three pony tribes are vastly different from one another, and yet we all have found a way to come together regardless.”

Something seemed to catch Verily’s eye all of a sudden. Her attention snapped downward, focusing on something on the floor below.

Twilight couldn’t help but silently follow her gaze – down towards a stormy grey stallion standing amid a small troupe of stagehands and workers. He was motioning around, speaking to each pony in turn as he issued orders. And even from the considerable distance between them, when he turned his head, Twilight could just see a flash of something silvery around the base of his horn.

Twilight glanced back towards Verily, hoping to see some change in her expression – for once.

At first, she didn’t. Verily was just as stony faced as always, wearing her usual air of dominance like one might wear an elegant dress. It was mindboggling to think anypony so cold and unfeeling could ever find love in the first place, especially in something as unconventional as the impish looks of a changeling.

But the closer Twilight looked… no, maybe it was just her mind playing tricks on her. Such a faintly gentle softness to the stern mare’s features could’ve only been wishful thinking.

“To answer your question properly, Miss Sparkle,” Verily spoke up suddenly, causing Twilight to jump back a step. “I did not marry a changeling. I married Clover.”

Verily must’ve sensed Twilight’s mouth opening to say something completely uncomprehending, because before she’d gotten more than a single syllable off her tongue, Verily was speaking again.

“The difference, Twilight,” she said loudly in order to silence her, “is something, I think, you should already be aware of. The difference is perspective.”

Twilight blinked, first at being so rudely interrupted, and then again once her brain had processed the director’s last sentence.

“Perspective?” she repeated dumbly.

Verily nodded curtly. “As the saying goes, first impressions are always the most important. While the incident during Princess Mi Amore Cadenza’s and Captain Shining Armor’s wedding was without question the first impression changelings made on nearly every Equestrian, it was not mine. That is simply because I have known Clover for much… much longer.”

Twilight glanced back down, back towards the stallion far below. For a few moments, he continued to issue commands in Verily’s absence, indicating this way, motioning that, until suddenly something seemed to catch his attention, and after hastily finishing his instructions to a pegasus mare, he suddenly went galloping away, and disappeared beneath the edge of the balcony.

Twilight looked back up, right as Verily glanced sideways all of a sudden, instinctively making Twilight freeze. There was something in her eye; something not as indomitable or cold as the rest of her tried to appear, but authoritative nonetheless.

“To me, he has been ‘Clover’ long before he has been ‘a changeling’,” she said. “Had I met him a few months ago, however, our situation most likely would have been much different.”

Twilight couldn’t help but squirm under Verily’s scrutiny. “You… must care about him a lot,” she mumbled, and immediately set about mentally kicking herself for such an obvious statement.

Verily didn’t seem to notice. Or, at least, she didn’t feel the need to acknowledge Twilight’s state of mind. She just nodded, her eyes turning away – much to Twilight’s relief.

“I would not be where I am, were it not for him,” she said. For some reason, her voice had become dull and flat – until Twilight realized that that was likely as close to being soft spoken as the intimidating mare could get. “But that does not mean I take enjoyment in that fact.”

Twilight frowned, confused. “Why not?”

The scowl came back to Verily’s features, though she mercifully kept her attention elsewhere still. “I have made my fortune demonizing the one I love,” she stated bluntly, harshly. “I have spent the last fifteen years of my life pretending who I loved was what Equestria deemed to be a regular stallion, and now for the sake of my… reputation… I must keep up the charade.”

Her words took Twilight completely by surprise. Here she was, picturing Verily as a mare who stood solely focused upon her career, only to hear the mare herself spit out the word ‘reputation’ like a bit of phlegm.

“But… why?” Twilight asked, sounding small.

She didn’t know why she spoke up then; it took her brain almost as long to process that she had in fact said something as it did Verily, who slowly turned back towards her.

But Twilight licked her lips, squared her shoulders, and pressed on. She’d started it; she’d just have to finish it, too.

“If you care about him so much, why put up with a false front? Why not just… I don’t know…”

“Be brave?” Verily offered, catching Twilight off guard. It didn’t sound spiteful or derisive at all, but Twilight still found herself giving a few internal winces. “Stand up and be proud?”

“S… something like that, I suppose,” Twilight muttered, scratching her nose absently. “Somepony shouldn’t have to… have to lie just to make everypony else feel better. Wouldn’t it be better to stand tall and proud of who and what you are? If you care that much about somepony to put yourself through that, surely those closest to you would be there to support you in kind.”

As usual, Verily’s expression defied any attempts to dissect it. She looked at Twilight, her eyes unknowable.

“That is a very idyllic way of looking at things,” she said. “It is a pity so few others share it.”

Twilight squirmed a little. She wasn’t sure if she was being praised or made fun of, though given the mare’s mood, it likely wasn’t anything positive.

Verily looked away again, her eyes settling on the distant stage. “The truth is, Twilight, that sometimes a lie is easier to live with. Sometimes, to be the very best we can be for the ones we care the most for, we have to keep our weaknesses in the dark and let our actions speak louder. Because when we open ourselves up and expose our flaws, they become all others see, and they become blind to everything else that makes us special. Is it cowardice to hide from the judgment of others? Or bravery to forge ahead regardless and strive to shine brighter than our darkness? Or is it simply a coping mechanism to justify to ourselves the choices we make? That, Twilight, is all a matter of perspective.”

She sighed, and for the first time, she did something; her hoof came up and absently adjusted her black rim glasses, the lenses momentarily flashing in the light of the Great Hall below.

“If my peers found out about Clover, it would be over. All I’ve strived for, all I’ve bled and cried for; undone. My status as a rising star in the eyes of the elite in the industry would fade and I would become undesirable… flawed. I would not be Verily Vermillion, the director; I’d become Verily Vermillion, wife to a changeling. And nopony in high society would want to work with somepony like that.”

She stared out towards the stage; stared at it like it was the single most important goal in her life.

“I could live with it… in time, but I will not give Clover and… I will not settle for anything but the best life I can make for us. That is the only reason I continue along the path I’ve made.”

Twilight glanced towards Verily. She’d caught the hesitation in the director mare’s words, as finite a moment as it had been. Clover and… And who?

Obviously Verily could tell she’d spoken out of line, because she was scowling once more.

“And hopefully, someday, you will understand that for yourself,” she said, and turned to leave. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a pageant to –”

Both mares jumped as, unexpectedly, the door at the far end of the balcony banged open.

Twilight spun around, alarmed… only to witness something that froze her in place.

The first one she saw was Clover, who was sprinting for all he was worth, panting and wheezing like he’d been running flat out since he’d disappeared. “N-no… haah… stop right there… haah…!” he panted.

At first, Twilight couldn’t imagine who he was speaking to… until she heard the highest, most desperate squeaking sound she had ever heard.

“Muuu!”

Twilight spotted it at the same moment Verily did – a tiny, tiny shape shooting through the air, headed straight for the tall mare herself.

To her credit, Verily didn’t act in the least bit taken aback. She merely raised one hoof, and caught the little thing against her chest.

And that was when Twilight saw it; it’s miniscule wings, still thrumming frantically, its tiny black hooves curled up against Verily’s fuzzy chest, the nub of a pointy horn atop a small forehead… a miniature changeling, so utterly small and frail-looking, like a rag-doll given life.

It couldn’t have been more than a few months old, if that. Its mane was so short it was virtually non-existent. Its eyes were so big and round, though Twilight only caught the occasional glimpse – the tiny changeling was wholly interested only in burying its face as far into Verily’s breast as it could physically go, as if wanting to block out the whole world.

“I’m sorry, Verily,” panted Clover, sprinted up. “I don’t know what got into her.”

“It’s alright, Clover.”

That tone… it took Twilight completely by surprise. It wasn’t harsh, or stern, or anything like it’d been before. It was… soft. Maybe she’d just gotten so used to the normal brusque attitude of the mare, but now it seemed to her like Verily spoke with a voice as gentle as a purr.

Twilight turned to Verily. Again she found herself wondering what kind of expression she’d be wearing.

At first, she was disappointed. No smile was to be seen, momentarily throwing Twilight off. But the more she looked…

Verily’s eyes weren’t as severe as they once were. The set to her jaw, not as stiff. Her mouth, not as thin a line, either. It was akin to someone taking a picture of her, and airbrushing out all the sharp details and leaving only something… softer.

It was so subtle, so very subtle, but Twilight thought she could just see it. That as when the realization hit her like a ten ton sucker punch to the chest.

She could see it in Verily’s expression, in the way the hatchly silenced her fussing the moment she’d snuggled securely against Verily. For a moment, it was as if the whole world had ceased to exist around those two, and they simply enjoyed a moment that was burning itself into Twilight’s head.

“Muuu…,” cooed the baby changeling, already sounding drowsy.

“That’s right… I’m here,” Verily promised quietly. Then, in a slightly louder voice, “I suppose it can’t be helped. Clover? Would you mind?”

Now confusion came back to Twilight, restarting some portion of her brain. She finally tore her eyes away from the hatchling and looked up, just as Clover stepped closer to his wife.

He lowered his head, pointing his horn towards the innocent little creature cradled against Verily’s chest. Just a moment before his horn touched the tiny creature’s forehead, it glowed a bright, brilliant green.

When he touched his horn to the baby, that glow spread off of it, seeping down and across the tiny shape like running water, until it had completely enveloped the hatchling in a glowing green coating.

It hummed, growing brighter for a moment… and then it faded. And in its place, there was not a tiny black changeling; there was, instead, a small innocent unicorn foal with a coat of pink and a little fringe of yellow.

The baby blinked, as if it wasn’t entirely sure what had just happened. That was when she noticed Twilight, took one look at her, and promptly hid her face against Verily’s chest once more and refused to come back out.

“There,” Clover said, straightening up. “That should do for a few hours.” Then, he looked up questioningly towards Verily. “Are you sure you don’t want me to…?”

“Yes, Clover, I’m sure,” Verily said with a faint smile. “I could use her company.”

Her husband did not protest, but he continued to keep an eye on Verily, as if half expecting her to change her mind.

Verily looked down at the hatchling, and even if she didn’t smile, even if her eyes didn’t sparkle, Twilight could’ve sworn she was glowing.

I will not settle for anything but the best life I can make for us. That is the only reason I continue along the path I’ve made…

Verily’s words echoed through her mind again. Only this time, it was a different pony’s voice she envisioned. Not the one standing before her, but one out there, in the castle…

Ah ain’t gonna settle fer second best, sugarcube. Fer my family, fer my friends, it don’t matter. Ah will be the best pony Ah can be, no matter what…

That would be something Applejack would say… wouldn’t it?

Something moved, catching Twilight’s attention and returning her to awareness. Without her realizing it, she’d been staring at the little hatchling, and to her surprise, now she found it peeking at her, as if it didn’t think Twilight would notice.

Verily, however, did. She raised her head, and caught Twilight’s eye.

Twilight knew she should say something, but nothing immediately came to mind. For that matter, it felt like her brain had completely disengaged, some flywheel within its inner workings loose and spinning out of control without anything to connect to.

Then, Verily said something Twilight had not been expecting.

“Would you like to hold her?”

Twilight blinked… then blinked again. “U-uh,” said her mouth, “O… Okay.”

Verily stepped closer. Now Twilight felt like that loose flywheel was starting to rattle and bang around in her head, distressing everything else.

But there was no time to back out. Verily was standing right in front of her in only one long stride. Twilight could see the filly – such a small thing, smaller than a satchel, looking like a fuzzy pink piglet tucked behind Verily’s foreleg. Albeit, one with a nub of a horn.

As she drew closer, the filly turned her head, realized Twilight was staring, and immediately hid again.

Heart jackhammering a million miles an hour in her chest, Twilight reached out her hooves, just as Verily pulled the filly away from her chest.

The hatchling did not protest, or even resist. She only looked over her shoulder, as if she knew what was going on.

The moment Twilight felt the tiny creature’s weight place against one hoof, she felt a rush run through her body. She’d only ever guessed what a diaper actually felt like, and yet right then, she knew precisely what was coming to rest against her.

Then, just like that, she was holding her. The hatchling didn’t complain – this was something of a routine for her. She just looked up at Twilight, as if trying to figure out what she was. Certainly not “Muu”, but similar in a way. She didn’t seem able to make up her tiny, few-month-old mind whether that was a good thing or not.

Twilight, on the other hoof, was borderline freaking out. The machinery in her head had well and truly reached critical failure. This was nothing like when Missus Cake had let her hold Pumpkin Cake at the hospital.

… But why was that? Maybe it was because this hatchling was awake, and staring so curiously at her? Or something else?

Twilight licked her lips. “W-what’s her name?”

Verily watched the hatchling, who’d glanced back to her inquisitively, just taking in the sights. “Butterfly,” she said in response.

Twilight couldn’t help but feel slightly taken aback. Such an ordinary name… Maybe not the most stereotypical unicorn name, but ordinary nonetheless.

“She’s not yet old enough to maintain her own pony form,” Verily explained, “So, in the meantime, Clover must facilitate it himself.”

“We’re trying to keep her as out of the public eye as possible,” murmured Clover, looking on uncertainly. “At least until she’s older. And well… at least while she’s like this, she can’t fly…”

Twilight finally tore her eyes off Butterfly to glance at Clover, and take in how exhausted he was. In a way, he reminded her of Mister and Missus Cake before Pinkie took over foalsitting the twins.

When she looked down, she found little Butterfly looked up at her again, blink-blinking at her. Then, it was like she’d finally made up her mind on how to feel about the situation.

She turned back to Verily, and flung out her tiny hooves in her mother’s direction. “Muu!” she cooed, almost whined.

Twilight got the message. She relinquished the foal to her mother’s awaiting embrace, still feeling bent out of shape. The moment Butterfly was tucked up against Verily’s chest again, she immediately hid her face against her breast once more, and didn’t come back out.

“She’s still getting used to others,” Verily said. “This is the first time she’s been out in public in her whole life. It might have been safer to keep her at home with a nanny, but…”

Verily looked up; not to Twilight, but past her, out over the Great Hall, and towards the stage that waited impatiently for them all.

“This will be her first Hearth’s Warming,” Verily said. “Even if she’s too young to remember it, I want to make it the best it can be.”

Twilight looked out towards the stage, following Verily’s gaze, then turned towards Verily herself. Like magnets, her eyes were then drawn down to little Butterfly, who had yet to move behind Verily’s supporting foreleg.

Something very odd struck Twilight then. Not necessarily an emotion, but… a feeling she couldn’t quite process. Something that made her look down at her own forelegs, which had been occupied until just recently, and wonder absently why the suddenly felt so cold…

She’d been warm, Twilight realized. Soft, warm, and light as could be. Pumpkin Cake and been like that, too, she remembered, like a teddy bear left out in the sun. She remembered how she’d gushed over that little foal with the rest of her friends. And if she remembered correctly, Pumpkin Cake had cried for her mother, too, after Twilight had picked her up.

Two different foals… and yet, how different had it really been?

It no longer felt like her brain was rattling and shaking itself to pieces. The nerves, the panic, the irrational chaos of it all… it all subsided. There she was, and there stood Verily, holding Butterfly. As simple a picture as it could have been.

Because it was simple. Not complicated, not unknowable or abstract. A mother and daughter; that was what she was looking at. Not a mother who was a unicorn and a daughter who was a changeling, the sheer mechanics of which were mind boggling. No; just a mother and her daughter.

It was all just a matter of perspective…

It clicked then. The synapse fired that she’d been desperately hoping would fire in her head. The connection was made. And suddenly… she knew exactly what she would do.

“Twilight,” said Verily in a raise voice. She’d been about to walk right out of the room.

Twilight turned around, and found herself subjected to Verily’s piercing gaze. Only this time, though she knew it would cut right through her like a laser beam, she didn’t quail underneath it.

Verily scrutinized her with an unfathomable look, then said, “Do try not to be any later.”

Twilight hesitated, then nodded. “I promise, Verily.” She said, and with a bright flash of purple light and crack of magic, she was gone.

Verily continued to look in the same spot, her thoughts her own, before turning to Clover. “Tell the extras to get ready,” she ordered, her crisp manner back in force. “We’ve got a pageant to put on.”

~~***~~

Five mares walked through the vaulted doors of the Great Hall, talking animatedly to each other.

They were ignorant of the ponies filing in along with them, holding up tickets to catch the light and scanning over aisle numbers, looking for loved ones, and clambering for seats.

Already one section was full; an entire quarter of the room, all filled with uniform black shapes and big, curious eyes flitting this way and that.

Applejack stopped near the door and looked around. Even in her pony form, she felt certain that judgmental eyes were falling on her from the throngs of early ponies surrounding her.

But she pushed the feeling to the back of her mind. She had more important things to worry about.

“Okay, so; game plan,” Rainbow said seriously beside her, planting one hoof into the other fiercely. “We go in there, we talk some sense into Twilight, put on the biggest show in Equestria, and go home heroes. So, like… Fridays, but with sleigh bells and mistle… holly!”

Applejack ignored the misstep. “Pretty much.”

“We have to find her first,” Rarity said. “You know how she gets when she’s like this. For all we know she’s –”

Bam!

“Hi girls, no time to explain,” said Twilight hastily as the flash of arcane light faded around her, “Do you know where… oh.”

Twilight fell silent, her eyes falling on Applejack at the same time Applejack saw her. For a moment, it was hard to tell who was more surprised to see who.

Then, all of a sudden, Twilight stepped up purposefully towards Applejack. The set of her jaw alone was cause for Applejack to take an automatic step back.

“Applejack…,” she said, and it was clear by the hesitation in her voice that she hadn’t thought all the way through what she was going to say. But it came out anyway. “I’m… I’m not going to tell you sorry. Not yet. Because I feel like I’ve been doing nothing but say sorry for way too long. This time… this time I’m going to truly, truly mean it. N-not that I didn’t mean it before, but – I mean…”

“Twi’…”

“R-right, sorry,” Twilight said, shaking her head dismissively. “What I mean to say is… let me show you that I’m sorry, instead.”

Applejack looked at her, confused, curious, but not in the least bit hostile like Twilight had feared.

The rest of their friends stood by, silent – no thanks to Rarity stuffing a hoof into Rainbow mouth, much to her chagrin.

“Please?” Twilight said. “Just… one last time?”

This time, Applejack’s expression changed. A look of surprise took over. “Last time? Sugarcube, what’re y’all talkin’ like that for?”

“I-I know I messed up,” Twilight went on hastily, “but I want to –”

That was when Applejack stuffed her hoof into Twilight’s mouth, which made it very hard for her to babble on.

“Would ya give me a sec?” Applejack said irritably. “Landsakes, yer gettin’ carried away again.”

“But,” Twilight tried to protest, though it only came out as an unintelligible vocalization around Applejack’s hoof.

“Yer always so prone ta overreactin’, Ah swear,” Applejack sighed. “Look, this ain’t nopony’s last chance.”

Seeing the dumbstruck look on Twilight face, she finally let her speak again. “O-oh,” Twilight mumbled. “Eh… sorry. Guess I did get carried away again. It’s just… I don’t want to lose you as a friend. You know that, right?”

Applejack rolled her eyes, but her irritability vanished. “Lose me as a friend? Darlin’, y’all are goin’ to have to try a lot harder than that ta pull that off,” she said.

Twilight just shook her head. “Maybe not this time, but what about next time? Or the time after that? If things don’t change, I’m just going to keep messing up until you do hate me. So… let me make it up to you. Please?”

Applejack looked Twilight over, but said nothing at first. Perhaps… Rose had really been on ta somethin’… Same thoughts, huh…?

“Alright, sugarcube,” Applejack said after only a moment’s hesitation. “What did ya have in mind?”

Twilight would get to that in a moment – after she was finished giving Applejack a great big happy hug.

“Thank you, thank you!” she squealed. “I promise, you won’t regret it!”

Applejack chuckled lightly. She could hear the rest of their friends letting out a collectively held breath, their relief almost palpable. “Well then, what did ya have in mind?”

Twilight abruptly let her go and took a step back. Her eyes were sparkling, her features brighter and more eager than they’d ever been before. “Okay, but we’re going to need a little help.”

Applejack raised an eyebrow. “What kind?”

Twilight answered that with a question of her own; one that was perhaps the most unexpecting thing to come out of her mouth all night.

“You wouldn’t happen to know where Derpy is, would you?”

Author's Note

Changeling Fun Fact: when they are newborn, changelings cannot transform under their own power. They simply don't have the motor skill to perform the task, even if they would have the magic to do so. The ability usually manifests after they reach a year to 18 months of age. A changeling's first transformation is usually one of their own design, created by their own vivid imaginations (Example: Applejack, Hyacinth, Vigil). In an emergency, though, an adult changeling can cast a certain spell to disguise a hatchling, particularly useful if the changeling is replacing a mother, or trying to pass off a hatchling as a mother's foal for a few hours. It won't last long, though, so it's used as more of a temporary solution to something.
In the context of this story, Equestrian changelings use it most when moving through public, in order to protect their children. Drones are particularly protective of hatchlings, however - viciously, in some cases, so it is very rare that a hatchling as young as Butterfly would ever see the outside of a hive, or any further than the innermost layers of said hive for that matter.

Now, off to see... Derpy?

Encore

“And then they all lived happily ever after. The end.”

“Aw…”

“The story’s over already?”

“You could have ended it a little better than that, AJ.”

“Oh hush, sugarcube. If Ah let ya tell the story, they’d never get ta bed.”

“And you know what happens to bad fillies who don’t go to bed early on Hearth’s Warming Eve, right?”

“What?”

“Breezies come and take ALL their presents away!”

“No!” “NO!”

“Rainbow…”

“What?”

“Honestly… Now, now, settle down, the two of ya. There won’t be any present-thievin’ goin’ on tonight, but it is time fer the two of ya ta go to bed. Come on now…”

“… Can we please have just one more bedtime story? Please?”

“Another one? It’s already way past both yer bedtimes.”

“Pease, Mommy? Pwetty pease with peaches on top? I pomise I’ll be weally sweepy.”

“Well… alright, hun…, then, just one more…”

Author's Note

Rainbloom & Summerfree