Ember's

Somewhere in Canterlot there is a door. The door is located in a narrow, winding alley in the poorer quarter of the city. It has no sign over it, nor number on it. It is marked only by a small, magical lantern set in the wall beside it, which seems to contain a glowing red coal.

The door is almost never locked. Should a pony venture to open it, they would find a small and surprisingly luxurious reception room inside. There are several velvet-upholstered couches there, and a fire burns in the fireplace on all but the hottest nights. The carpet is deep and soft underhoof. The walls are covered in walnut paneling and damask silk wallpaper in red and gold. An oil lamp burns atop a dark walnut desk, behind which sits a unicorn stallion. Part of his job is to welcome those who step through the door to Ember's.

The stallion's cutie mark is an eye. He never explains what it is that he sees, but the other part of his job is to know who should be allowed to venture past the second door and who should be firmly shown back out to the street.

There are not many of the latter. Ponies tend to find the door to Ember's when they need to. Those who can be satisfied by ordinary pleasures will easily find their way to any of the half-dozen or so brothels of varying levels of class and price located within the city. Those who need more, however, sometimes find themselves not at Rosie's or The Sweetbox, but opening the door to Ember's and stepping within.

All who need Ember's services are welcome, whatever their gender or species might be. Payment in bits is accepted there, taken by the stallion who watches the door, yet the cost of a session within is surprisingly small, and is sometimes waived entirely.

Beyond the reception room and through the second door is an even more luxurious sitting room. Some who arrive within are surprised to see it. Ember's is legally licensed as a brothel, and most who come there think of it as such. They are expecting a bedroom. The bedrooms lie further within, but Ember will take no pony there until they know exactly what she is and what she offers. She also makes certain the ponies who come to her know the nature of the true payment she asks for her services.

This is done without words. The sight of her, reclining on a chaise lounge, her filmy wings folded at her side, her charcoal-colored chitin gleaming faintly in the lamplight, her slit-pupiled eyes fixed on her client; this is enough to tell anypony exactly what she is, and what payment she desires. A changeling queen is impossible to mistake for anything else.

Yet of course a changeling queen is also very easy to mistake for anything else. She can be whatever her clients need her to be. She offers them their deepest, darkest fantasies; their strangest and most perverse desires. In return she feeds on their lust and their love.

The taste of jealousy, fear, hatred, grief, or anger, however, are bitter to her. So she does not offer only fantasy. She also offers much more, to those who need it. For each pony it is different. For some there are words of advice. For some there are acts of catharsis. For many there is the never-before-known experience of being accepted, fully and utterly, by someone to whom one cannot lie.

Deception is her stock in trade, but so are truth, understanding, and healing. Few of those who come to her leave unchanged. Sometimes the changes are simple: a little bit of extra confidence, or a little dash of extra happiness from an impossible fantasy well-fulfilled. Sometimes the changes are much more profound.

So come, walk the streets of Canterlot by moonlight, look for the glowing ember lantern above the door, and discover what peace or pleasure Ember's can bring to those who find it.