Author's Note

Disclaimer: This chapter contains an incestuous pairing.

Propriety

I’d known that Las Pegasus was in the desert, or course, but I was still surprised by just how hot it was. Granted, changelings tended to prefer heat over cold, but this was just miserable. Maybe it was all the fur. Say what you want about changelings, but chitin had its advantages.

I glanced across the sun-beaten train platform, watching as my guard escort, Silver Thorn, conversed with some stocky, humorless-looking stallion from the escort service. The two were looking over a bundle of paperwork, Silver Thorn indicating places for the other stallion to sign.

Figuring they might be a while, I made my way over to a nearby newsstand and took shelter in its shade. After wiping the sweat from my brow—another thing changelings didn’t have to deal with, thank you very much—I glanced at one of the newspapers, knowing from my old infiltrations that they usually included a weekly weather schedule. Today’s high? One-hundred and one. Tomorrow? One-hundred and three.

I blinked at the hateful numbers, a growl rumbling deep in my throat. A very faint part of my mind began to wonder if maybe I’d made a mistake in coming here, but a simple glance in Silver Thorn’s direction silenced it pretty handily.

No, a little bit of heat is a fair trade for what I hoped to find here.

Suddenly, a unicorn stallion in a suit stepped up beside me, reaching for a newspaper. Seeing a chance to reach out to one of my ‘fellow’ Equestrians, I gave him my toothiest grin. “Can you believe those temperatures?” I asked, nudging his side with my elbow. “Pegasi, amirite?”

He gave me an awkward glance. “Uh… I guess?”

He passed a bit over to the owner of the newsstand and shuffled off without looking back.

I shrugged. “Guess he was in a hurry.”

I turned back to the newspapers, deciding to check out the headlines. This was my new country, after all. Far be it from me to be out of the loop.

As soon as I saw the headline, I had second thoughts. Perhaps Out-of-the-Loop might be just the place for me after all. Because right there, staring back at me from the newspaper, was a terribly familiar face—a pink face, with a long horn, lavender eyes, and a tri-colored mane. It wore a smile more sweet than Chrysalis could ever hope to imitate, and it was like all of my mistakes joining forces to slap me in the face. Images of wedding bells and white dresses and screaming ponies flitted through my mind.

With a trembling hoof, I reached out and lifted the paper, reading it over. Truth be told, I found it hard to concentrate on the story, such was the panic attack I seemed to be suffering, but there was something about a lost kingdom in the north and ponies made out of crystal and an evil unicorn king, as well as something about the bearers of the Elements of Harmony.

As I skimmed the story, a feeling of dread settled into my stomach like nausea. Was this how the rest of my life was going to be? My past constantly looking over my shoulder, poisoning my attempts to move on and do better? Was there no escape? Was there n—?

“This isn’t a library, you know,” the gruff voice of the stand’s owner said, cutting through the tempest of thoughts rampaging through my mind. With a start, I returned the newspaper to its place on the shelf, muttered an apology, and hurried away, barely noticing the heat now in my rattled state.

So distracted was I by what I’d just seen that I ran face-first into a stallion’s chest.

“Oomf!” I fell back on my haunches, reaching up to rub my nose. “S-sorry…” I muttered nasally. “I should’ve been looking where I was…” I finally looked up to the stallion’s face, recognizing him as the escort service’s representative. My words died on my tongue as he looked at me with a faint sort of indifference.

“Naamari, right?” he droned.

I bit my lip. “Um… y-yes?”

“Good. The name’s Middleman, and I’m with Persona Escort Services. Welcome to Las Pegasus.”

He extended a hoof towards me, causing me to flinch a little. He raised an eyebrow at me, and it took me a moment to realize he wasn’t trying to hit me. Remembering that this was a pony method of greeting, I reached out with my own hoof and awkwardly bumped it against his.

“Right,” he said, turning away. “Follow me.”

He began to trot off, and I did as I was told, slinking along in his wake.

As we crossed the train platform, I looked over my shoulder, watching as Silver Thorn moved back toward the train for the ride back to Canterlot. He must have noticed me in the corner of his eyes or something, because he turned in my direction, our eyes meeting across the platform. For a second, we just stared at each other. Finally, I gave him a timid wave, which he met with a nod, and what might have been a tiny smile. And then, we turned away and out of each other’s lives. I silently bid him farewell and good luck. He deserved to find his happiness.

Not two minutes of trotting later, Middleman and I stepped out of the train station and into the bustling streets of downtown Las Pegasus. Right away the noise and the bustle and the sheer number of ponies hit me like a wave, but I weathered it, tilting my chin up as best I could.

I might have been nervous. I might have been intimidated. I might have been plagued by guilt over my past. But, for better or worse, I was home.

All in all, I was feeling pretty good.

In the two years following my arrival in Las Pegasus, I’ve come to take weather schedules for granted. So much so, in fact, that I rarely take the time to look at them at all. The weather in this city isn’t very diverse, after all, and a rainy day is a rare thing.

Therefore, today’s downpour catches me entirely off guard. And naturally, it starts right in the middle of my quick dinner at a nearby Hayburger.

The journey home is a… soggy one, to put it mildly. By the time I get back to my block, I’m soaked to the bone and shivering. In the corner of my eye, I spot Mare Green’s, and I instantly veer in that direction, figuring that a cappuccino would be just the thing to warm me up. I duck under the awning in front of the café, shaking myself like a dog to dry my coat and taking a moment to wring my mane and tail out with my hooves. Once I looked less like an otter and more like a pony, I step into the enveloping warmth of my little urban oasis.

Arabica spots me right away. “Hey there, Naamari,” she says, her normally vivacious voice a little more subdued than usual. “What are you doing out and about in this weather?”

I dry my hooves on the mat before approaching the counter, taking a moment to look over the otherwise empty coffee shop. “Oh, I’m just on my way home from supper. Thought I’d grab something warm on the way back.”

“Well, I’m glad you did. What can I get for you?”

“Just a cappuccino, please.”

With a tiny smile and a nod, she gets to it.

Shifting a little on my hooves, I glance back towards the restrooms. “Just leave it on the counter, okay? I gotta use the little filly’s room.”

“Wait!” she says suddenly.

I freeze mid-turn, looking back at her with a raised eyebrow.

“Uh…” She cuts her eyes toward the restroom. “Can’t you just wait a little? I’ll have this cappuccino ready in a jiff.”

I blink at her. “I kinda have to pee, Arabica. Rather badly, in fact. I mean, I could just go on the floor if you’d prefer, but I figured it would easier to use a toilet like a civilized creature.”

She bites her lip, blushing slightly. “Well, of course. Sorry. Go ahead. Just… never mind.”

I stare at her for another couple of seconds, then continue to the restroom, shrugging off her odd behavior. Maybe the slow work day is getting to her. Boredom can mess with your head.

Once in the mares’ restroom, I step into one of the stalls and close the door. As I do my business, I begin to notice little noises in the stall beside mine. No, not those kinds of noises. More like… tiny sniffles and sobs.

Is somepony crying in there? Is that why Arabica wanted me to wait?

Naturally, I try not to dwell on it. This isn’t one of my clients. She’s a stranger. It’s neither my business, nor my place to meddle. But—call me a softy—I can’t help but feel a little twinge of sympathy. It’s hard to imagine a worse way to spend an evening than crying in a coffee shop bathroom with rain pattering against the window panes. Of course, who am I to talk? My exciting evening consisted of a meal of greasy fast food.

Nevertheless, I just can’t help myself. As I step out of the stall and begin to wash my hooves, I take a sip of the emotions coming out of the other stall.

Right away, sadness hits me like a sack filled with bricks. Except… it’s something more than sadness. This is sorrow. Despair. A feeling of emptiness, like a sucking hole. The strength of it catches me off guard, and I literally stagger to the side. But more than anything else, my attention is stolen by something else in those emotions. Something familiar.

Something I only recall sensing in one other pony.

Eyes wide, I slowly step toward the door of the stall. The pitiful sounds fall silent, as if the pony inside can sense me standing here. More likely, she can merely see my hooves under the door. Thunder roars through the sky outside, but it barely cuts through the sound of blood rushing through my ears, and the beating of a changeling’s version of a heart.

Every so often, you come to a crossroads, and you know that your decision in that moment will echo through your life like the thunder outside, for better or for worse. This, I can tell, for reasons that aren’t clear even to me, is one of those moments. I stare at the door as if it were a gate in some massive, fortified wall. I’ll admit that I’m more than a little afraid of that wall, but what I can sense on the other side pulls too strongly for my fear to stand a shadow of a chance.

I raise my hoof, and I knock on the door.

A tiny, heartbreaking voice issues from the other side. “Occupied...”

The voice confirms what I already knew.

I swallow a lump down my throat, then say, “Aletheia?”

A moment of teetering silence passes, followed by the sound of the door unlocking. It opens, and there she is. Her mane is a mess, likely from the rain. Her eyes are red and puffy, and the fur on her cheeks is wet and matted from tears. She looks like some kind of pitiful, wounded animal, and yet, I can’t take my eyes off of her.

“Naamari?” she asks. “What are you doing here?”

“I… I was just stopping by. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…” I trail off, watching as her ears fold back in embarrassment. I put a hoof on her shoulder. “What’s the matter? What happened?”

With a sigh, she steps out of the stall and past me, my hoof sliding off her shoulder as she moves away.

“I had a date tonight,” she says finally. She looks at herself in the mirror, instantly grimacing. “Oh, for the love of Celestia…” She turns on the water and begins to wash her face.

“A date?” I feel something unpleasant churn within me. I recognize it as anger, but that does nothing to assuage it. “What did he do? Did he hurt you?!”

Her eyes in the mirror turn in my direction, widening as if in surprise at my reaction. She appears to search my face for a second before she resumes her freshening up. “No, it’s nothing like that. He was a perfect gentlecolt.”

Anger gives way to relief, then to confusion. “Then… what’s wrong?” I watch with fascination as her efforts gradually replace the distraught mess I’d found in the stall with the lovely mare I’d met a few weeks ago.

Seemingly satisfied with her appearance, she sighs. “It’s me. I’m what’s wrong.”

“You?” I say incredulously, sitting down on my haunches. “What do you mean?”

Following my lead, she takes a seat, closing her eyes and massaging the base of her horn as she responds.

“I thought I was ready.” Her voice is so very, very small. “I thought I was ready to get out there and meet somepony. He asked me out a few days ago while I was working, and I just couldn’t believe it. Part of me was terrified, but I forced myself to say yes. I thought it would be good for me.” She gives a mirthless chuckle. “I was so nervous leading up to the date that I was almost nauseous. But part of me was looking forward to it, too. You know?”

I give her a sympathetic nod.

She sighs, staring off into the distance, as if through the walls themselves. “Then, during our date, I… I just couldn’t stop thinking about…” She trails off, her eyes moistening. “That poor stallion. I can only imagine what he thinks of me now. I just hope he doesn’t take it personally.” She turns back towards me. “I was distant, distracted. We had only just gotten our appetizers when I got up and bolted. I couldn’t bear going back to my empty apartment, so I just… ended up here. I offered to help Arabica, just to take my mind off of it, but she wouldn’t hear of it.”

She wipes her eyes before giving me an apologetic look. “I’m sorry for unloading all of this on you, Naamari. I already vented to Arabica, but I guess I didn’t get it all out.”

I act without thinking. I stand, walk over to her, and wrap my forelegs around her, pouring all the support and comfort my black little heart can muster into a ferocious hug. Her body goes rigid in my embrace, but she doesn’t push me away.

I move my mouth to her ear and whisper, “Don’t apologize. You’re hurting, and I’m… I’m here for you. That’s what fr-friends do, right?”

Her body relaxes, and ever so slowly, she returns the hug.

“I’m just so tired of being alone,” she whispers back. “I’m so tired of having to pretend to be happy all the time, like nothing ever bothers me.” I feel droplets of moisture land on my shoulder. “But when I finally have a chance to change things, to not be so alone… Why can’t I just let myself be happy?”

I don’t say anything at first, simply tightening my hug a little, offering her whatever I could. And bless her heart, she accepts it. I don’t know the answer to her question. How a creature like this can be so lonely is beyond my comprehension. She deserves a life brimming with love. But I can sense that she isn’t telling me something, and if I had to guess, it’s something she rarely brings up to anyone. It’s buried deep, and swirling around it like water down a drain is the same strange emotional note I’ve always sensed in her. I don’t pretend to understand the depths of it, and if she prefers to keep it to herself, that’s her business.

I can’t force her to reveal her secrets. All I can do is give advice, from one wounded animal to another.

“I know what it’s like to be alone,” I say finally, idly giving her mane a stroke with my hoof. “And I know what it’s like to pretend. We all have masks we show to the world; that’s only natural. But I’ve come to believe that… that if we want to find love, we have to trust someone enough to see behind that mask. It’s not always easy, but it’s the only way, I think.”

Like a fog bank drifting over the cold earth, she pulls away from me slowly, looking into my eyes. Her lips move as if to form words, but no sound comes out. Then, before I can react, those lips move forward and capture my own.

It’s my turn to go rigid, sitting there like an idiot for several seconds, wide-eyed and mystified by this turn of events until, finally, my eyes flutter closed and I feebly begin to return the kiss. It’s a simple, innocent sort of kiss, and yet I find myself bombarded with Aletheia’s emotions. It’s not love. It’s not even lust. But more like hope. Like a crumbling kingdom’s first expedition into an undiscovered country.

I bask in those emotions. They’re not strong or nourishing enough to feed me for long, but they’re warm and sincere and somehow more satisfying than anything I’ve tasted in a long time.

As suddenly as it began, the kiss ends, and the two of us pull apart. Aletheia opens her eyes and looks at me. Then, as if her brain finally catches up with her, she gasps, covering her mouth with her hooves.

“Oh gosh, I’m so sorry! I… I-I didn’t mean to… I mean, it just sorta happ—”

“It’s alright,” I insist with a shaky smile, still trying to wrap my head around it all. “I’d be lying if I said you didn’t catch me off guard, but…”

‘But…’ what? What is this lingering thought in the back of my mind? And why does it frighten me so badly?

Aletheia bites her lip, watching my face with wide eyes. “So… we’re okay?”

“Yeah.” I touch a hoof to my lips. “Just fine.” I meet her eyes, and we spend a quiet moment regarding each other.

As a changeling, I’m left in an unusual position. I’m used to prodding the emotions of others, but at the moment, I can’t see past my own emotions. Confusion? Excitement? Panic? I’m not sure how to deal with all of these feelings, nor do I have any compass with which to navigate their meaning.

Might it really be possible that there could be something between me and this pony?

This pony…

With a jerk, I stand up, breaking our eye contact. “We ought to head back out before Arabica thinks we fell in,” I say, forcing a chuckle.

“Y-yeah, you’re right,” she replies with a quavering voice.

I give her a moment to get herself together, and the two of us make our way out of the restroom, Arabica audibly sighing with relief when she sees us.

“Is everything alright?” she asks, eyes darting back and forth between the two of us.

“Yes, we’re fine,” Aletheia says. “We just got to talking.” I can feel her eyes lingering in my direction. “Naamari here gave me some advice.”

“Oh?”

I avoid their eyes, reaching for my cappuccino and taking a sip, finding it already tepid. How long had we been in there? I swallow as much as I can stand, then set the cup down and make my way for the exit, fighting the urge to hurry.

“I’d better head on home,” I say without stopping. “You two have a good night.”

“Um, Naamari?”

With a wince, I stop and look over my shoulder.

Aletheia stands there, fidgeting on her hooves. It’s hard to tell in the café’s low, warm light, but I could almost swear she’s blushing.

“I, uh…” she begins. “I w-was just wondering if you’d like to…”

I’ve heard that just before a lightning strike, one can feel a tingly, staticky sensation in the air. That’s the best approximation of what I feel when I realize what she’s trying to say.

“I mean, if you wouldn’t mind, of course…” she stammers on, oblivious to my shrunken pupils. “Do you think you might want to go sometime and—”

The bell above the door jingles, causing all three of us to jump. I turn and look, finding the familiar form of Middleman standing in the doorway. I don’t think I’ve ever been so relieved to see the big lug.

“Hey, you!” I say with an awkward, exaggerated grin. “What’s up?”

He raises an eyebrow, looking at me, then at the two mares, then back to me. “Uh… I was just on my way to your place, and… I happened to notice you in here.”

I take a step toward him. “Work thing?”

“Work thing.”

“Oh, darn,” I say without even a smidgen of sincerity. I give one last glance to Aletheia and Arabica, talking even as I start to follow Middleman out the door. “Well, I’d better see what this is about. Goodnight, girls.”

Arabica waves, but Aletheia…

Aletheia just lowers her head, ears folding back against her head. So quietly I can barely hear it: “Goodnight, Naamari.”

In that instant, I remember everything she’d told me in the restroom—her loneliness, and her desire to fill it. She’d bared her heart to me, and how had I reacted when she tried following the advice I myself had given her? I’d latched onto the first excuse that came along and hurried away. What kind of a friend did that make me?

I could still do something about it. I could still turn around, run over to her, and accept her invitation. A part of me even wants to, more than I’m prepared to deal with.

Instead, I walk right out the door and into the rain.

Rain drums against the roof of the taxi as it rolls down the street, drawn by a hopefully well-paid stallion in a black poncho. With the uncharacteristic rain, and the night wearing away one hour at a time, most sensible ponies are shut away safe and dry in their homes. So it is that the flash of green light in the taxi’s windows goes unobserved.

I take a moment to examine my new form, light from the passing streetlights washing over the white coat and the toned musculature beneath it.

“I don’t—” I begin before cutting myself off. I clear my throat, then try again, my voice much deeper this time. “I don’t like this.”

“Yeah,” Middleman says, gazing out the carriage window with his cheek resting on his hoof. “It must be bizarre, turning into a dude.”

“No, not that.” I pause, giving it some thought. “Well, okay, not only that.” I shift in my seat to adjust… things, before continuing. “But really. All these anonymous clients are starting to freak me out. Especially when I play somepony like Shining freaking Armor.” I indicate my current visage with a frown, even though Middleman isn’t looking. “It’s only a matter of time before I wind up with somepony who wants to hurt me.”

“Weren’t you, like, some elite agent of the changeling army?”

“Well… it was nothing so official-sounding, but more or less. What’s your point?”

“My point,” he replies, finally facing me, “Is that if anypony tried to pick a fight with you, something tells me they would be in more trouble than you would.”

“Well, I appreciate the vote of confidence,” I say with a roll of my eyes. “But still. It just makes me nervous, you know?” I take my turn to look out the window, trying to ignore my reflection, both foreign and distressingly familiar. “I already feel weird enough when I imitate his wife. All things considered, it just… doesn’t feel right. It cuts a little too close to the bone for me.”

“Yeah, I guess you changelings really screwed the two of them over, didn’t you?”

I snort, my breath fogging the glass. “Not really. But we did our damndest. And it’s the thought that counts, as they say.”

A pregnant pause fills the cab. Then:

“Don’t worry, Naamari.” His voice is uncharacteristically warm, almost gentle. “It’s probably just some horny mare with fantasies of bedding the Captain of the Royal Guard. There’s no way it’d get back to Shining Armor, or his wife, or anypony involved in that whole mess.”

I sigh, but nonetheless fling a tiny smile into the passing night. “Yeah, you’re probably right. I guess I’m just… on edge tonight.”

Another pause, briefer this time.

“Does it have anything to do with that mare in the coffee shop?”

I flinch, cutting my eyes towards Middleman. “What are you talking about?”

“I wasn’t born yesterday, you know,” he says with a small smirk. “I could tell there was something there. I hope I didn’t interrupt anything too important.”

I meet his smirk with a deadpan expression. “No, you didn’t,” I lie.

“So, there’s nothing between you, then?”

I turn away again. “There can’t be.”

Yet another pause, though I can sense that Middleman’s eager to fill it. Just as he draws in a breath to speak, the carriage pulls to a stop, the view out the window settling on a small, empty park. I hear him release the breath, and the moment thankfully passes.

“This is it, huh?” I say, eager to shepherd in a new topic.

“Yep.”

“Well,” I say, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “It certainly sets my mind at ease to meet with my mysterious client in a dark, unoccupied park in an out-of-the-way neighborhood at night.”

“Look, Naamari. If you’re really that uncomfortable with it, you don’t have t—”

“No, it’s alright. I just feel like kvetching.”

“And how, exactly, is that different from any other day?”

“Mmm, touché.” I take a moment to look myself over before giving Middleman a sultry gaze. “So, how do I look, lover boy?”

I must be going crazy, because I swear that Middleman blushes. “Like the impetus of many confusing dreams to come,” he grunts. “So thank you for that.”

“Anytime,” I say, blowing him a kiss.

With that, I step out of the taxi with a chuckle, taking a moment to watch as it rolls away before stepping toward the modest fountain in the park’s center. The park is abandoned, so far as I can tell in the faint light of a few nearby gas lamps. All I can hear is the gentle patter of the rain, punctuated by my louder-than-usual hoof-falls.

It always takes me a while to get used to wearing a stallion’s body—its size and its weight and its apparent difficulty in moving with any semblance of grace. Not to mention the—ahem!—extra luggage stowed in the undercarriage. The rain doesn’t help, either. My waterlogged coat only seems to accentuate the flexing of all my muscles as I walk. I don’t know whether to feel awkward, or like some kind of walking testament to unbridled masculinity.

Finally, I arrive at the fountain, only to find that nopony is there. I look back and forth, then call, “Hello? Is anyone there?”

Only silence answers me.

I snort, then shake my head to get the soaked strands of my mane out of my eyes. It would’ve been nice if Middleman had given me an umbrella or something.

“Alright,” I say out loud, as if in warning to my client. “I’ll give you ten minutes, and then I’m out of here.”

As it turns out, I only have to wait three.

A flash of light and an accompanying pop behind me causes me to jump nearly a foot in the air, and I whip around to find a cloaked figure facing me. For a brief moment, we regard each other, until the figure gives a tiny nod, reaches a purple foreleg out of its cloak, and grabs my hoof.

“Hey, wait!” I have a bad feeling about this. “What are you—?”

POP!

The next thing I know, my legs give out on me, and I collapse to a hard, stone floor. I fight a swell of bile back down my throat and try to stand, my knees wobbling under my weight as I clamber back onto my hooves. On the upside, it’s not raining anymore.

“Okay, that was unpleasant!” I sputter, fortunately having the wherewithal to do so in Shining Armor’s voice.

I open my eyes, then widen them as an entirely new setting presents itself to me: A large, elegant chamber with high ceilings and vaguely crystalline walls. A chandelier above provides warm illumination, as well as the unmistakable impression that this isn’t a common pony’s house. In fact, it looks more like a palace than a home.

“Sorry,” a voice, that of a mare, pipes up behind me. With a start, I turn toward her. “I guess I could’ve given you some warning.”

She lowers her hood, and when I see her face, I literally do a double-take. My body freezes on the spot, hooves seemingly fused to the floor. I stare at her for several awkward seconds as my brain struggles to process the information it’s being given, refusing to accept the reality it’s being confronted with: That there, mere feet away from me, is the last pony I’d ever expected to see; the pony whose own hooves had wrought the undoing of all my people’s schemes, and altered, if only indirectly, the very course of my entire life.

“Twilight Sparkle,” I say dumbly.

She gives me a slightly awkward smile. “Guilty as charged,” she chuckles.

With a thought, she removes her wet cloak and hangs it on a nearby hook. She then proceeds to walk around me in a circle, and I can practically feel her eyes examining me top to bottom, like some kind of lab specimen. I would feel a little uncomfortable, or perhaps even vaguely offended, if it weren’t for the mild case of shock I seem to be experiencing.

“Wow, you look just like him,” she muses.

It only just occurs to me that Shining Armor is her brother, which raises a whole different set of questions. Namely, why did she arrange this meeting?

Naturally, there’s the obvious answer. Most ponies who seek out our services do so for one simple reason. And you know what? I wouldn’t judge her. I’ve been doing this job for a while now, and this would hardly have been the first time that I’ve catered to an incest fantasy. Like I’ve said before, we changelings are pretty open-minded in the sex department.

But this is Twilight Sparkle, for crying out loud! Princess Twilight Sparkle! Considering who she is and the history she has with my people, it’s hard not to be a little paranoid. Let’s face it, she has more reason than most to hold a grudge against my kind.

I begin to tremble slightly, feeling very much like a fly caught in a spider’s web.

She notices, but thankfully, she misunderstands.

“Oh, I’m sorry! You must be freezing. Here, I’ll get you a towel, and I can make us some tea. Does that sound good?”

I manage a nod, and she does just that.

Not long afterwards, Twilight Sparkle and I are sitting in her kitchen, which, if I must say, seems far larger and more well-equipped than a home as seemingly empty as this one should require. The way our every tiny noise seems to echo only accentuates the awkward silence that hangs over our heads like a heavy cloud.

I stir my tea with my magic, if only to give myself something to do. I can’t help but notice Twilight watching the green glow around my horn as I do. No surprise, I suppose. Many unicorns may overlook the flaw, but this is no ordinary unicorn. Heck, she isn’t a unicorn at all anymore, technically.

As if for verification, I cast as discreet a glance as I can manage at her wings, which are twitching restlessly against her sides. My pegasine body language is a little rusty. Is she nervous? Aroused? Or perhaps I’m reading too much into things.

If nothing else to distract myself from my staring, I take a sip of the tea. It’s delicious, of course, and as per usual, the drink puts me in a reflective sort of mood. My mind is a virtual tempest of activity, but one thought in particular demands to be given voice.

“So, where are we, exactly?”

The sound of my voice—well, Shining Armor’s voice, I suppose—startles her. “Oh! Sorry. We’re at my castle.”

“Your… castle?”

“Mm-hmm. In Ponyville.”

“Ponyville?” I muttered. As in, Ponyville Ponyville? As in, several-hundred-miles-away-from-Las-Pegasus Ponyville?

Twilight’s eyes widen in realization. “Oh, that’s right. He’s… I mean, you’ve never seen my castle, have you?”

It’s always nice when fate conspires to cover for your breaks in character. I extend a hoof-bump to the universe and power through.

“Can’t say that I have.”

She gives a subdued chuckle. “Yep, home sweet home.” She runs her eyes over the lengths of the room, her ears laying back against her head. “Though it’s taken some getting used to. I guess it… doesn’t really feel like home yet.”

I’m not exactly privy to the details of her private life or the circumstances of her moving into this place, so rather than make a mule out of myself, I opt to take another sip of tea.

With a slump of her posture, Twilight gives an exasperated groan and starts massaging her temple with a hoof.

“Look, I’m sorry for being so awkward,” she says, not meeting my eyes. “I understand that role-play is a big part of… what you do, and I know that I should be playing along. But I just can’t get past the fact that you aren’t really my brother. I just can’t seem to… suspend my disbelief, or something. No matter what I do, I feel weird and embarrassed.”

I reach over a lay a tentative hoof atop her own. I can’t say this isn’t the first time I’ve encountered this problem. Most ponies who come to Persona know what they’re getting into and just let the fantasy carry them away, but every so often we have a client that just has to back out. We’ll even give them a partial refund. And considering who this particular pony is, I can’t say I’d be disappointed if she called the whole thing off.

“Are you having second thoughts?” I ask, trying to keep the hope out of my voice.

She appears to give it some thought, her wings giving another agitated twitch. “No,” she says finally, not noticing the slight sag of my shoulders as she does. “No, I wouldn’t have done this at all unless I wanted to. I’ve had it on my mind ever since I first found out about Persona.”

Well, there’s nothing for it, then. While I and my coworkers reserve the right to call an assignment off at any time (with a full refund, in this case), my professional pride won’t let me. This job is pretty much the only thing I’m good for in this world, and where would I be if I backed out at the sight of a challenge?

So, pushing my thoughts of ditching Twilight out of my mind, another thought takes its place, and I run with it before the sensible part of my brain can object.

“How did you first hear of Persona, anyway?”

“Hmm? Oh. A while back I took it upon myself to go through the royal ledgers, trying to find some way of making the castle finances more efficient, thereby saving tax money. You know, just for fun. Along the way, I noticed a discrepancy. The ledgers mentioned something about ‘Refugee Care’. I asked Celestia about it, and she and her sister let me know about their project to give asylum to reformed changelings. They explained the program to me, and Luna mentioned something about ‘Persona’. So, I did some digging, found out what Persona did, and… here we are!”

“Oh.” I said simply, silently wondering what kind of pony does accounting for fun. Maybe I was in more danger than I thought.

“And I thought I had everything all worked out,” she continued, oblivious. “But now that you’re here, I just can’t wrap my head around it.” She sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe I am having second thoughts.”

Well, here’s an avenue for escape if ever I saw one. I bet I could talk her into calling it off fairly easily. Except… something about her words and behavior gives me pause. In my experience, my assignments are rarely about animal lust. Not exclusively, at least. Ponies usually come to me because something in their lives is holding them back from the real thing. Even if that thing, in the case of those clients who request somepony like Daring Do, is reality itself.

It’s not all that hard to guess what’s holding Twilight back. If she called me here for the reason most ponies do, then the fact that I’m playing the part of her brother certainly narrows it down. Ponies generally don’t look kindly on incest.

But me? All I can see is that Twilight Sparkle seems unhappy, and if I can do even a tiny bit to help her, then how could I not?

“Maybe it would help to just take your mind off of it,” I say, continuing to straddle the line separating me from my character. “Just something to help us relax and be natural.”

She gives it some thought, tapping her chin with a hoof as she considers my words.

“We could watch a movie,” she says eventually. “I just had a projector and some old film reels brought in last week.”

“Sounds good to me,” I reply with small, sincere smile.

We watch our movie in a massive, sparsely furnished chamber that I suppose is meant to pass as a living room. The two of us are sitting side by side on a couch, watching as the projector behind us casts its images on a white bed sheet that Twilight hung on one of the walls in lieu of a proper screen. Her choice of film is a good one, considering the situation: Charlie Trotlin’s The Colt. A good comedy could probably do us both some good, and in no time at all the two of us are laughing up a storm. Fortunately, this copy of the film comes with a soundtrack, which keeps the potential for awkward silences to a minimum.

Then, around the part where Charlie’s character stands up to an oafish bully, something happens. Somehow, I don’t even notice it when it does. One minute, I’m watching the movie, having almost forgotten that Twilight was there. The next, I feel a weight leaning against my side. I look down at her, snuggled up against me and still watching the movie. I sit there for an awkward moment, not sure how to react.

Thankfully, she’s sure enough for the both of us, grabbing my foreleg and wrapping it around her shoulders. Following her lead, I pull her tighter into a one-armed hug, startled to find her nuzzling into the embrace with a happy sigh that ruffles the coat on my chest.

Maybe I was wrong before. Maybe she just wants to spend some quality time with her brother, and couldn’t for whatever reason. Last I heard, he lived way the heck up in the Crystal Empire, so it’s very possible they don’t get to see each other very often. It’s a little weird for her to use a changeling escort as a proxy, but I’ve seen stranger things. Like that time an elderly mare hired me to play the son that rarely visited her; I literally spent two hours eating cookies and listening to her complain about aphids.

Sliding into the role of a loving elder sibling, I lean my head down and give her a chaste kiss on the top of her head, then return my attention to the movie.

However, the innocent peck seems to snap Twilight’s attention away from the film. I see her tilting her head back in my periphery, and I glance down again to find her looking at me with wide eyes. The film suddenly forgotten, the two of us merely stare at each other for a quiet, surprisingly un-awkward moment. Then, more quickly and more forcefully than I’d ever have expected of her, she throws her forelegs around my neck, pulls my head down, and presses my lips against her own in a kiss that’s anything but chaste.

Okay, first: What is it with ponies just kissing me tonight?

And second: Never mind what I said earlier. Unless I’m a lot more clueless about pony etiquette than I thought, sisters don’t normally put their tongues in their brothers’ mouths.

After the initial shock passes, I slip into character, close my eyes, and return the kiss. My world becomes our lips and the dance of our tongues and the way our coats brush together and the emotions that bombard my mind like waves crashing against a cliff. It’s love, of course, but a very complicated vintage. Love for a brother, love for a friend, and something much more fiery and hungry.

When the kiss finally ends, and the two of us pull apart and open our eyes, we simply stare at each other for a dazed, blissful, confused moment, panting for breath.

The spell is eventually broken by a strobing light to one side of us. I break our eye contact to locate its source, and find that the projector has reached the end of the reel, leaving nothing but light from the bulb inside to flicker against the makeshift screen.

“I’m sorry,” says a tiny voice beside me.

I look back at Twilight. She avoids my eyes.

“It just sort of came over me, there,” she continues, fiddling with her hooves. “You just look so much like him, and I…” She trails off, clearly struggling for words.

Okay, enough is enough. I’ve been very passive so far tonight, skirting around the edge of my character and letting Twilight hem and haw, and where has it gotten us? She clearly has something she wants to say or do, and something tells me I’ll have to take matters into my own hooves if anything is to move forward.

I reach deep into my memories, recalling one of several little tidbits about Shining Armor that I picked up back when we were planning the invasion.

“What’s wrong, Twily?” I say in my masculine voice. The nickname has the desired effect, snapping Twilight’s eyes in my direction, her pupils dilated in the dim light. I give her my warmest, most brotherly smile. “Come on, sis, you can tell me.”

She stares at me a moment, then begins to speak. “There’s… something I need to confess, Shining,” she says, utterly lacking the self-awareness she’s displayed all night. For this one moment, at least, I’m her brother.

Atta girl, I think. Outwardly, I merely wait for her to continue.

She continues to stare, and then, with a flicker of her horn, she shuts the projector off, pitching the room into darkness.

Then, in the abyss, I hear her voice.

“I… sort of… maybe have feelings for you. I have for years.” I hear, and feel, a slouching movement against the couch. “When I was a little filly, you were my… my model of stallionhood. Even more than our father, you were the bar that I measured every stallion and colt against. It was innocent enough, back then, but as I got older, I began to catch myself looking at you in a different way. On more than one occasion, I even… touched myself while thinking about you.

“I knew it was wrong. And I knew I could never act on it, because we were siblings, and siblings just didn’t do things like that.” A brief pause, then, more quietly: “I also didn’t want to ruin the bond that we had. Even though I had these feelings for you, that didn’t change the fact that you were my B. B. B. F. F., and the thought that those stupid feelings could change the way you saw me terrified me more than society’s judgment ever could. So I bottled it up.

“Eventually, between your work at the Guard and my studies with Celestia, we saw each other less and less, and… over time, the feelings dwindled. I came to write the whole thing off as a phase. Adolescent hormones, or something. I put it behind me and barely thought about it for years. In time, I got over it.

“Or so I thought.” She sighs. “When I found out you were getting married, it just… brought those feelings back out of nowhere. My friends were right when they said I was being possessive. I mean, yes, the false Cadance was acting strangely, but… what sticks out to me now is that I wanted to be right about her. For crying out loud, when I confronted her during the wedding rehearsal, I was smiling! I was thrilled for the excuse. No way, I thought, was this mare good enough for my brother. She didn’t deserve him. Not like I did.”

She falls silent, and I spend a moment fidgeting in the dark, waiting for her to say something else.

Just as I open my mouth to speak, she resumes, her voice even tinier. “Then, in the caverns, I came across the Cadance. I listened to her—heard the way she spoke of you, and the love in her voice, and her worry for your safety—and I knew. I knew I’d been wrong. I knew that her love for you was real, and that you were meant for each other.

“I still think that, you know?” she says, her voice catching. “I am so, so happy for the two of you. And I love Cadance like my own sister. I would never come between you. What kind of monster would I have to be? I’d be no better than Chrysalis.

“Most of the time, I’m okay. It’s not like I cry myself to sleep at night, or anything. Like I said, I’ve known for a long time that nothing could ever happen between us. But sometimes… when I’m alone at night… I think about you. It’s not even sexual, really. Not usually, at least. Mostly, it’s just… wondering what could have been, had things been different.

“When I heard about Persona, it got me thinking. Which, as you know, is always a dangerous thing,” she adds with a small chuckle. “I thought maybe it would be a good way to… I don’t know, find some catharsis. Closure, maybe. Then, perhaps, I could put these feelings behind me and close that chapter in my life.”

She takes a deep breath, as if steeling herself. “And to that end, let me just say—hiding nothing in the ambiguities of the term—that I love you, Shining Armor. In more ways than I should. And I probably always will.”

Taking that as my queue, I send a stream of magic into my horn, casting a light spell—one that specifically generates white light, so as not to ruin the moment with my green magic. In the illumination, our faces are suddenly inches from each other. Neither of us are startled by our abrupt closeness.

I look into her moist eyes and whisper, “And I love you, too, sis. I hope you know that.”

Under the glow of my horn, like a lighthouse in the dark ocean of this big, empty palace, we kiss again. This kiss is much more tender than our first, and through it, Twilight pours her feelings into me, warm and sad and wistful and accepting of their futility. When we part, we touch our foreheads together, our horns crossing.

“What now?” I ask, unsure how far she wanted to take this fantasy.

She hesitates, as if considering the same thing. Then, with a release of air through her nostrils, she leans into me and whispers, “How about we just cuddle for a while?”

I smile into her mane. “Sounds great.”

As one, we lay on the couch, her back against my belly, and I hug her against me with my powerful forelegs. Neither of us need to say anything, simply basking—her in the safety and warmth of her brother’s embrace, and me in the sheer happiness rolling off of her in waves.

I release the light spell, and the room returns to darkness.

With a purple flash, I find myself back in the park in Las Pegasus. It’s morning now, and although the rain has stopped, the sky remains heavy and overcast. The cobblestones and grass and benches around us are dripping with the night’s downpour.

“Will you be alright getting home?” Twilight asks, standing behind me.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” I reply, facing her with a smile.

“Okay, then I guess I’ll just head back to Ponyville.”

Instead of teleporting, however, she merely stands there, rubbing one foreleg with another as her wings give tiny little twitches. I wait patiently, sensing that she has something to say.

Sure enough: “I just wanted to say… thank you.” She meets my eyes, smiling sheepishly. “Part of me was nervous, considering that you’re a… well, a changeling. I guess I was afraid there might be some hard feelings.”

It’s my turn to be a little sheepish. Normally, I wouldn’t break character, even on the tail end of an assignment, but in this case, I’ll break protocol.

“Yeah, well…” I say. “I won’t deny I was a little caught off guard by the situation. But really, I wouldn’t be in Equestria if I weren’t, ultimately, on your side.”

“Mmm, I guess so.” Her smile turns sweet. “Still, though: Thank you. You were wonderful. I think I actually believed you were Shining for a while there.”

“Hey, that’s what I do,” I say through a smirk. “Do you feel better?”

She visibly thinks it over. “Maybe. It’s too soon, I guess. But… there’s seems to be a little less weight on my shoulders this morning. I think it helped just to have somepony to talk to. Or… some-changeling? Oh, you know what I mean.”

I chuckle. “I do. And I understand. Hiding our feelings has a nasty way of poisoning us. I see it a lot in my line of work.”

“True. Unfortunately, though,” she adds with a sad breath and down-turned eyes, “Sometimes suppressing our feelings is the only thing we can do, because letting them out would do more harm than good. Sometimes, we either poison ourselves, or we poison everyone around us.”

I stare at her for a moment, my mouth suddenly dry. I swallow, then say, “Well, if I was able to lessen the load, I’m glad.” I take my own turn to hesitate before adding, “And for what it’s worth, I want to take this chance to thank you, Twilight Sparkle. For everything. I can’t even imagine what my life would be right now if it weren’t for you. Believe me when I say that you don’t have to worry about poisoning anything.”

Twilight bites her lip, then gives me a grateful nod.

We say our farewells, and Twilight departs in a flash, leaving me alone in that quiet, abandoned park. After a quick glance to make sure that nopony is around to see, I revert to my own pony disguise with a flash of green and make my way to the nearest bus stop.

The ride back to my neighborhood is largely uneventful, and I spend it looking out the window, not actually seeing the passing scenery, instead consumed by my own thoughts. It had certainly been a surreal, taxing night. It hadn’t even involved sex, which, though not terribly uncommon, was certainly the exception to the rule.

I could really use a coffee right about now.

Right away, memories from earlier in the night crash into me; a beautiful mare in a coffee shop bathroom pouring her heart out and meekly offering it to me. Even now, it tempts me—fills me with an alien warmth.

Why, then, does it terrify me so?

Unbidden, Twilight’s words echo in my mind.

“Suppressing our feelings is the only thing we can do, sometimes, because letting them out would do more harm than good. Sometimes, we either poison ourselves, or we poison everyone around us.”

I close my eyes and lean my head against the window.

Yes, it’s for the best. Some things just aren’t meant to be.

I sigh, my breath fogging the glass.

Still, I could really use a coffee right about now.

“Next!”

The customer in front of me steps away with a cup held in his magic, and I drag my hooves to the head of the line.

“Welcome to Java Junction,” the cashier says with a chirp. “What can I get for you today?”

“Black coffee and a slice of cherry pie, please,” I say with more enthusiasm than I feel. “Henceforth known as ‘the usual’.”

To be continued...