The Halfling

Chapters

2. Tolerance
3. Goodbye
4. Questions
5. Sickness
6. Changelings
7. Colt and Filly
8. Surprise Party
9. Mystery Mare
11. Mother and Son
12. Haggling Mares
13. Spats and Stats
14. Enter the Hive
15. Devotion and Loyalty
16. Discussion in a Sea of Nymphs
17. The Park and the Court
18: The Death of a Couch
19. Awkward Moments and a Decision
20. The Black Queen
21. Seeds of Doubt
22. Chrysanthemum
23. Underestimated
24. The Temple of Love
25. The Power of Love
Epilogue
1. Sanctuary
10. Exposition
26. Life Goes On

2. Tolerance

The sun broke through the horizon, bathing the world fully into another morning, like the countless mornings before. For the Crystal Empire, it was another day without Sombra, another reason to greet the day with hope. For its small community of changelings, it was another day to bask in the love of the Crystal Heart. Granted a haven by none other than Princess Mi Amore Cadenza herself, they gratefully uttered her name in their prayers and taught their offspring to revere her. For the ruler of the Crystal Empire, being adored by the small black creatures had always left her feeling uneasy, but they meant well.

Princess Mi Amore Cadenza was reading the letter sent to her for the upteenth time from the Temple of the Sun, complete with an added note from the Priestess Zeala. The pink alicorn stared with her violet eyes shrunken to pinpoints. The words she was reading was not at all something she had expected in her wildest dreams. Father Sun Cloud’s letter was polite as he was always polite whenever he wrote. His monthly assessment of overall morale and spiritual well-being for her subjects was always a delight to read, even if he tended to go off topic. The old stallion was a dear and Cadence considered him to be a solid religious advisor. He was open-minded, friendly, and often discussed with Luna’s head priestess some of the newer trends of the younger generations. Cadence was always included in the discussions as they always asked her for her thoughts.

Shining Armor, however looked forward to religious discussions about as much as he enjoyed discussing frilly dresses.

Breakfast had only been half eaten when the letter appeared just above her horn. Noting the seal, it was odd as a letter from Sun Cloud was not due for another week. Shining Armor was busy with his morning paper and cup of coffee, not exactly awake enough to even ask his wife why she was staring with open-mouthed horror at the parchment in her magical grasp. She inhaled a deep breath and rolled up the paper. She drank her lukewarm cup of coffee and found her eyes falling upon her husband.

“Hoofball season,” he said, scanning the sports section. “Can we get a professional team here? Cady?” Shining lowered the paper and looked at his wife. Her expression was… unsettling. “It’s not that bad of a sport, honey. I mean, we need to generate revenue and if we can lure a team here, that’ll mean more…”

“Shiny,” she croaked, levitating the damning letter.

“What’s this?” he asked as it was floated over to him. “Fan mail?”

A weak smile threatened to erupt. “Not...exactly.” The titter from her lips was less than jovial. “Read it, honey. Please.”

Just then, a guard hurried into the dining room, his eyes seeking out and zeroing in on the Prince Consort. “Majesties!”

The letter was forgotten.

“Well, don’t just stand there,” Shining told him. “Approach, captain!”

“There was an attack near the religious district.” The guard came to a halt and bowed deeply. “We’ve found the bodies of seven dead changelings in the streets! Witnesses report a large changeling being pursued by an unknown number of attackers, also believed to be changelings.”

“What?” Shining and Cadence blurted at the same time.

This time the newspaper fell away to the ground as the stallion was already moving. His wife was right behind him. “Why wasn’t I told sooner?” he demanded.

“There were no civilian casualties,” said the captain as he trotted to keep up with the Prince Consort.

“Notify Canterlot,” Cadence said, dragging the letter along with her magic. To her husband she began, “Shining—”

The letter was thrust in front of his fast in the blink of an eye. “What is this?”

“It’s related to the incident,” she said. “We know the changeling in the temple. Father Sun Cloud says there’s a queen in the temple’s infirmary. It’s her, Shiny. It has to be!”

The unicorn stopped dead in his tracks. “No…”

“Shiny, there’s a foal.”

He read the letter carefully, his jaw working back and forth as he was suddenly grinding his teeth. “Foal?” he looked at his wife woodenly.

“Yes, Shiny. Priestess Zeala confirmed this is the same queen from Canterlot.”

Shining Armor didn’t trust the tall changeling who represented the odd religion of her race. She was always wearing black robes and felt more like a villain than anything else. Yet, she behaved in the best interest of improving pony-changeling relations. The pseudo-pony did her best to intermingle her own kind with ponies and other races who visited the city. Sure, Zeala appeared to be a peaceful mare. Appearing too similar to that monster who had impersonated his wife sixteen months ago, she gave him the creeps. Maybe it had something to do with the way she smiled.

“Ready my chariot,” Cadence informed the captain. Her eyes never left her husband. The soldier bowed and hurried off to do her bidding while she drew up to her husband and nuzzled him lovingly. “Shiny? Are you okay? Let’s go see her together. Hmm? Let’s confront her together and find out what’s going on. Let’s be sure... Shiny?”

Numbly, Shining nodded. “Foal?” croaked the question from his lips. It was a pale echo of the first time he said that word. The poor stallion looked suddenly very lost and very guilty. “Nooo...” he moaned, pleading with his wife as he slumped against her. “I wanted us…”

“Shh, I forgave you a long time ago, my husband,” she assured him softly, dressing his face with soft kisses. “Let’s go make sure. It wasn’t your fault. It was never your fault, Shiny. Look me in the eyes.”

He did so, his lower lip quivering.

“It was not your fault. I love you. I will always love you. Nothing will ever change that.”

Shining Armor opened his mouth to say something. She clamped it shut with a hoof.

“If this colt is your son, then I’ll love him as my own.”

“Cady?”

“And you’ll love him, got it?” she commanded playfully in an attempt to lighten his dour mood. “But we need to hurry,” Cadence added seriously. “The mother is in serious condition. Her wounds are grave. She might not live out the day.”

“If it’s her,” grumbled Shining Armor with a sigh. “A foal… By the Maker, Cady!” He cleared his throat and straightened himself to his full height. “Ready my chariot!” he roared, breaking out into a trot.

Cadence sighed and rolled her eyes as she went after him. “I already summoned for mine, you big goof!” she called out.

Husband and wife made their way to the stables. Their chariot awaited them and within minutes, they were aloft over their beautiful city, their crystalline structures gleaming in the light of the early morning sun. Below them, they could see their subjects beginning their day and going about their business. Quite a few paid heed to the alicorn and the unicorn, as it was not uncommon for one or the other to visit sections of the city. Of course, it did not prevent a few from taking notice and waving at them like old friends. The pair of pegasus guards pulling the chariot were well used to the smiling Crystal ponies looking up into the sky. As they flew towards the religious district of the wagon wheel design of their fair city, the fresh spires of the two newest completed temples shone like welcoming beacons.

The Temple of the Sun was a graceful example of Canterlot architecture. The Temple of the Moon boasted the same quality work and was every bit the Sun’s equal. Nestled between them was the Temple of Love, a far more modest structure dedicated to Cadence (much to her profound embarrassment). Behind it was the beginnings of an even more modest, and even simple, temple for the changelings. It was tucked into the corner of the grounds, unassuming and out of the way. Dotting the grounds were various buildings for various purposes. The building of interest was the small infirmary meant for the care of the ponies who served the religious orders.

There was quite a crowd already gathered at the front doors.

Cadence waved off her guards. Weapons were forbidden on holy ground. The winged pegasi veered off, leaving just the two pulling the chariot and their two passengers. Curious nuns and monks gawked as the royal chariot landed smoothly and the princess wasted little time in hopping off. Shining Armor was a bit more reluctant to follow suit, but he wore a determined mask and forced a smile through it.

Cadence at first made her way straight towards where she thought Father Sun Cloud might be, but a sound not normally associated with sacred ground reached her delicate ears. A nun was cooing little foalish words to somepony. The princess found herself making a slight detour and followed the sounds. Light hearted laughter from other ponies indicated a small gathering.

“He’s so cute!”

“Those eyes! So blue!”

“Have you ever seen a foal so tiny?”

“Oh, let me hold him!”

The princess cleared her throat as she approached a small wooden bench. Upon it lay a wicker foal basket. It was obviously occupied. Three older nuns were busy clucking over a very tiny creature swathed expertly in a soft blanket. A bottle not originally meant for feeding a foal had been requisitioned for such a purpose, complete with a rubber nipple fashioned from an object the princess could not identify at first. Upon closer inspection, she blushed a bit, then cleared her throat politely a second time.

“Princess!” one of the nuns cried. All three bowed to Cadence. One of them hovered over the little foal—he couldn’t be anything else!—and smiled warmly as she minded the bottle and concentrated on letting the little fellow breathe as he drank.

“Please rise,” she bade them, eager to see for herself what had been described in Sun Cloud’s letter. “May I see him?”

The eldest nun nodded, offering a modest smile as she turned the basket to offer Cadence the best view. The pale little face was focused on the meal, his hooves latched on the bottle nearly drained. One of the nuns was holding the bottle up for the little fellow while looking expectantly at the approaching princess.

“One of the changelings knew a way to infuse pure love into the milk,” explained the elder nun as Cadence found herself leaning forward for a better look. “He’s still needing love to grow, but he can also take some milk. One of the local mothers donated some as soon as word spread of his need. Once we had the milk, one of the more recent changelings, also a mother, offered to infuse the milk with love. Oddly, she seemed a bit frightened when we described the nature of this foal.”

“Nearly refused to help,” piped in one of the other nuns. All three were nodding sagely. “It took words in private with High Priestess Zeala to convince her. It appears half breed changelings are considered ill omens to them.”

The princess felt her heart go out to the little foal. He made the little feeding noises, easily associated with happily feeding foals. The bottle was pulled away and she was encouraged to pick him up. It was easy to see she wanted to. He seemed to sense her presence and sought her out. Her face was but a few feet from his. A toothless smile found her. She smiled right back.

“Oh, you’re precious!” she cooed as her magic wrapped around him. Lifting him from his basket, she moved him to her chest where she could wrap her hooves around him.

He was a little frightened at her strange magic. It wasn’t mommy’s! An uncertain sound came from him, a little whimper.

“I won’t hurt you,” she promised, leaning down to nuzzle him. “Not your mother’s magic, is it? You know, don’t you? Such a smart boy. Such a cute boy!” Cadence noted the foal’s eyes, how blue they were. Those were pony eyes and only one other pony in the world had eyes like those in her mind. “Shiny?” She peered at a spot next to her where she expected him to be.

He wasn’t.

“Shiny?” she repeated, looking behind her. He was sitting on the ground, slouched with wide eyes and a guilty conscience. “Come here!” she beckoned, smiling warmly at her husband.

With terrified reluctance, he obeyed, straightening himself only because of the eyes suddenly upon him. Sigh, not this again, he came towards his wife as her smile grew larger and larger with each step. Swallowing hard, he found himself meeting a little face that had suddenly gone quite serious in his estimation. “Um...hi?” he managed to squeak out.

Those blue eyes held his own and he froze in place.

“Well,” Cadence broke the silence with a nuzzle to her husband. “I think at this point any blood testing would be a formality to this point.” She pressed the foal into the stallion’s hooves, forcing him to his haunches as he yelped in surprise. “I can feel he’s yours in my heart, Shiny. I just know it.” Her eyes became moist, while Shining held the child in his hooves.

“What of the mother?” Shining asked, still focusing on the squirming little guy in his grasp. “Where is she?”

“Still in the infirmary. Her wounds were quite bad, I’m told,” said the elder nun. “Father Sun Cloud is in the waiting room. He is expecting you, your Highness.”

With an unexpected reluctance, he handed the foal to the nun, his mind a jumble of confusion and emotions, the former captain of the guard stood and gave his wife a determined look. “Let’s go see what he knows. I also want to talk to that changeling priestess—”

“Zeala,” offered Cadence helpfully.

“Thank you, dear,” Shining deadpanned. “All right, let’s get this over with. I want answers and I have no idea why she’d want to come here of all places. Nor do I know why she’d suddenly have this kid and think I’d… Cady, I just don’t know what to think!” He sighed, throwing his hooves up in frustration, and began walking.

Cadence nodded in agreement. She could not help but wonder what exactly was going on. Too many variables and factors were currently at play and she had no idea where all of this would eventually lead. At least the foal was cute, she reasoned. There was no love lost for the changeling who had placed her in the crystalline catacombs deep within the heart of the mountain Canterlot was built upon. It was a distant memory now, but one that was a permanent part of what made the princess who she was. Rather, it was a defining moment of what she wasn’t.

She could not hate this changeling who had nearly stolen her world and her identity. There was simply nothing like that for her in her heart.

The grounds were rather sprawling, she noted and maintained beautifully. The monks and nuns who lived here tended everything themselves from their own gardens to the flowering plants, to plucking unwanted weeds growing up through the paths. It was always quiet and peaceful here, with conversations carried in hushed, respectful tones. Uneasily, she felt more and more uncomfortable the closer she came to the infirmary.

It felt like she was approaching death.

Inside, she heard an old voice cry out, “What do you mean she’s gone?”

Husband and wife shared alarmed expressions before they broke into a gallop. Within moments, they moved through a loose crowd of ponies (and even a changeling or two) where frightened words were whispered harshly all around them.

“What is going on here!” Shining Armor demanded once he was inside. He was immediately drawn to the tall changeling in the black robes. Zeala’s head whipped around, breaking from the intense discussion —even argument— she was having with Father Sun Cloud.

“Prince Shining Armor!” she sighed silkily. “So good of you to come!” Her fangs flashed in her smile as she bowed politely.

He did not like this mare. The stallion could practically hear his wife’s hackles rise as she drew up against him and leaned in protectively. “Father,” Cadence greeted the old stallion warmly. “Priestess,” she added with icy reluctance.

“I’m afraid you’re too late,” sighed Sun Cloud.

“Did she die?” Cadence asked, admittedly torn as a conflict of emotions railed within her.

“Her wounds were grave,” said Zeala, boring her eyes into the princess intensely.

Shining Armor whispered, “She’s dead, then?”

“On the contrary,” replied the priestess as Father Sun Cloud fixed her an accusing stare. “My acolytes were able to heal the worse of her injuries. What we had not anticipated—”

“She’s...decided our accommodations were no longer required,” the old stallion harrumphed.

The alicorn and her husband both gaped. “What?” cried Cadence. Too many possibilities swam through her mind. None of them were appealing. “Alert the Guard!”

“Don’t bother,” Zeala said airily. “You won’t find the queen, even if she’s is but a shade of her former power. Once she had enough magic healing done to stabilize her condition, the queen was quick to make quick her departure. You just missed her.”

“Oh, no!” Cadence put a hoof over her mouth.

Shining Armor was suddenly livid. “How could you let her go? She’s a wanted criminal!”

The priestess fixed him a condescending glare. “She was granted Sanctuary, my prince. I do not detain those who come willingly against their will. They are free to come and go as they please, so long as they come in peace and depart in peace. The good Father here would agree, wouldn’t you?” she smiled like a cat in the cream at Sun Cloud.

“She is most correct,” sighed the old stallion as he tugged his cowl over his head. “Now, if you pardon me, I have some very nervous ponies out there wondering about our recently departed guest. Please, excuse me.” Sun Cloud bowed deeply to the princess and her husband, before shuffling out the door to speak to the gathering.

“Holy ground,” reiterated Zeala as she inclined her chin. “A most useful tool for those in need. Cry but a single word ‘Sanctuary’, and hearts will open and charity will flow like a wellspring. This is a place of love and all those within these walls have it to spare. None of my acolytes want for nothing and the small number of changelings who do live in this city of love are fattened because of it. What would I be if I did not extend our good fortune to those less fortunate than us? What would I be then?”

Cadence softened her expression. “I did not mean to offend, High Priestess.” She tugged meaningfully on her husband’s hoof.

“She is a criminal,” stated Shining Armor, but backed off from a warning glance from his wife.

Zeala smiled. “Of course she is. Her kingdom is no longer hers. Royal houses fight for power even as we speak. She is no longer relevant to her own people. Her choice to depart is her own reasons and she has harmed no innocents. She escaped an assassin’s team and lost all of what was left of her guard. She is alone. She can do nothing, my dear prince.”

“What of the foal?” asked Cadence. “Is he abandoned?”

“Mixed blood changelings are forbidden by our most ancient of laws,” Zeala told her seriously. “I will not touch him. No doubt some pony will take him up and raise him, though I would strongly recommend against letting him near other queens or any royals for that matter.”

“That’s terrible!”

“Be wary,” the priestess warned. “You must be made aware the child has been marked for death. If any other ponies were to take him up, no doubt they would wake up to find a dead foal in their crib and nothing else in the house disturbed. He is dead already. Those seeking his mother's lands will send assassins.”

“No!” shouted Shining Armor with determination. “We’ll take him in!”

“I think that was the queen’s intention,” supplied Zeala with a smile. “It’s for the best and I think the two of you are better for it.”

“Shiny, are you sure about this?” Cadence asked her husband in a small voice. Her heart had already leapt in her chest the moment he spoke.

“The nuns of the Sun and the Moon will no doubt look after him until you can make all the necessary arrangements,” Zeala said as she ghosted past them. “I have my own duties to see to. Though it might mean little to you, I bless you both in the name of the Ancients. May the path of shadows guide you to boundless love.”

They waited until she was gone before taking a side door back into the open garden. Or was it a courtyard? It felt more like a small park, really. On the city map, it was listed as simply The Sanctuary. It was a place of quiet meditation and communion with nature. Numerous little shrines were placed about and each one was immaculately cared for. At a small pond, the couple sat down and watched the ducks swimming.

Cadence was the first to speak, repeating her earlier question. “Are you sure about this?”

“I can’t let him die,” he stated firmly. “It’s not fair to him. It’s not his fault his mother is a monster. He could also be mine, Cady. My son. My responsibility.”

She leaned in, cupping his chin with a hoof and turning his muzzle to face hers. “This is why I love you,” she whispered, her eyes full of love. They kissed deeply and parted, seeking out each other’s souls in their gazes. “Any son of yours, I will love unconditionally.”

Author's Note

This is actually the second part of the first chapter. It went longer than I thought it would and I'm trying to avoid making marathon chapters.

Hope this answers a few more questions!

Comments and suggestions are always welcome!

EDITS: Someone pointed out a bit of an inconsistency in my story...it's not every changeling who wants the Halfling dead, just those who seek his mother's kingdom. Just to clarify, the common everyling doesn't give two wits about Reign Cloud's lineage. If he were to be placed in the care of a changeling mare, she'd defend him like he was his own. Placing him in the care of his father puts him under the sphere of influence of all the alicorn princesses.

To the reader who pointed that little inconsistency out to me, I thank you! I would have totally missed out on that.

3. Goodbye

Edited by shadowblades, iakovl, and Magic Man

A name was needed for the halfling. As Cadence and Shining debated foal names, the city became abuzz with the news that they had taken in a rather...unusual, guest into their home. Not since the fall of King Sombra had there been such excitement in the palace! There was no protest from the very small changeling population nor from their priestess in the week since the foal came to live with them. The adoption process was placed on hold until the standard tests and procedures were taken care of. Out of curiosity, Shining Armor was able to get his hooves on a book of changeling names. He was put off when the language inside was completely unreadable to him. It looked like a bunch of chicken scratch! There was no Equestrian copy available as apparently it was taboo for any changeling texts to be translated into any other language.

Changeling purity laws were proving to be a pain in the plot.

Meanwhile, the very young age of the foal did not prevent him from discovering he was quite literally born to run. As the palace was a strange place to him, the colt would often escape from his caretakers and run streaking through the great halls and vast rooms—as if searching for something. He avoided most ponies, if at all possible, and made a pitiful chirping sound that echoed mournfully for all to hear. The worried staff thought he was sick at first.

The royal physician examined the little colt (once they were able to catch him, that is) and declared him hale and hearty, if a bit malnourished. After hearing the circumstances leading up to his coming to be in the care of the palace, the doctor concluded the foal was looking for his mother. Unable to smell her, the colt had went searching, calling for her with his little alien cries.

Upon hearing this, Cadence swept up the sorrowful foal with her hooves and hugged him as if she would never let him go. Shining Armor, on the other hoof, simply had no idea how to handle it.

The next day, Shining received the test results. The foal was indeed his offspring, much to the bafflement of the staff, who kept throwing around words like ‘impossible’ and ‘inconceivable’ around. The last one they yelled only because it threw the nurses into giggling fits.

Word was sent to Canterlot once the confirmation was made, of course. Princess Celestia was curious about the half breed foal and informed the couple of her intentions to visit at the end of the month, if the royal couple did not mind. They were very much in approval of the idea and eagerly replied in kind. Unfortunately, Princess Twilight would not be available as she was currently on a diplomatic mission as a mediator between the minotaurs and griffons. No doubt she would go through the roof if she discovered her B.B.B.F.F. had a son and she was now an aunt. The next thing was to tell his parents, Night Light and Twilight Velvet. Celestia offered to bring them with her when she came to visit. A very nervous stallion agreed with a great deal of prompting from his smirking wife. As Cadence’s family pretty much was Princess Celestia and Princess Luna through adoption, she was more at ease in how the alicorns would approach the new would-be addition to the family.

Late one night, nearly two weeks after the queen had disappeared from the infirmary, the Prince Consort found himself looking up at Luna’s moon as if he could find the answers to the myriad of questions dancing through his mind. Why would a changeling queen want to give her child to him if she had no intentions of staying? Did she do this as an act of revenge? Was it an act of love? Desperation? Was she planning another attack? Was she truly as helpless as that creepy priestess claimed her to be?

Oddly enough, he was in his son’s room, sitting down comfortably in a plush chair. The aforementioned foal was being fed with a bottle and in the still befuddled and bemused father’s hooves, who simultaneously and gently bounced him up and down a bit. Cadence had remarked a few days ago how the eyes of the colt matched his own.

“What am I going to name you?” the sleepless stallion asked of his hungry charge. Those eyes were fixed squarely on the bottle, ignoring Shining’s inquisitive eyes. “Are they putting just milk in there or is it the love charged stuff?”

How were they doing that, anyway? It was coming from the temple grounds, delivered with the high priestess’ compliments on a daily basis. Each morning before sunrise, a pair of acolytes would appear in the palace kitchens and drop off the formulated milk. It was tested for poison, of course. Zeala herself had promised no such underhanded attempt would happen under her care. She professed her reasons for not wanting to be near the colt, but at the same time she seemed happy to discover the foal’s father was at hoof and willing to assume his duties as one.

It seemed to take moments for the foal to drain the contents of the bottle. Where is he putting that stuff? Shining Armor mused as he shook the empty bottle. “I’m tempted to call you Hungry,” he said with a chuckle.

“No,” came a voice from the other side of the room. The stallion grinned and tilted his head, noticing his wife giving him a mock glare complete with an exaggerated pout. “You are not going to run around calling him ‘Hungry’.”

“You’re no fun.”

“Obviously. I married you, didn’t I?” she giggled as she trotted over to him. Cadence and Shining kissed briefly before both adults fixed their attention on the pale foal now yawning mightily. “Oh, he’s so precious!” she exclaimed quietly.

“He’s a bottomless pit,” grunted her husband, showing her the colt’s latest conquest and his swollen pot belly. If he keeps this up, he was going to be a fat little foal. “Drained the whole thing in less than ten minutes.”

Tiny wings fluttered as the foal struggled to get down off the stallion’s chest. It was rather difficult as he was in the crook of his father’s foreleg and on his back. Little legs flailed uselessly in the air.

“Any ideas of a name?” Cadence asked as her horn lit up. The foal found himself being picked up. Little legs flailed as his blue eyes went round. “Don’t be frightened! I just want to hold you.” To emphasize her point, she drew the colt to her and nuzzled him gently.

“Well, I was thinking of calling him Zealous Burst.”

“Absolutely not! It sounds ridiculous!” The alicorn hefted the foal who was trying to figure her out. She held him in front of her muzzle. “Isn’t that just silly? Yes, that’s just too silly a name for a cute widdle guy like you!”

The halfling simply stared back at her like she was insane.

“Oh, he’s sleepy,” Cadence said as she pulled him to her chest.

Shining Armor watched his wife begin to rock the foal to sleep, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You look good with a foal,” he remarked.

“Shh!” she whispered, “He’s already asleep!” This was true. The halfling was nestled deep into her fur, using it like a blanket as a bit of drool formed in the corner of his mouth.

A nanny appeared in the doorway, the hinges creaking as the door swung wide. She had been asked to let the stallion and the foal be alone. She complied, taking her knitting with her. It lay in a basket floating behind her as her horn tugged it along. She was a temporary employee, having been suggested by one of the other noble mares who recently had her foals outgrow the need for a nanny. “The foal needs to sleep,” she said in an apologetic tone as she approached.

“Oh! Of course!” Cadence was reluctant to give up the little darling...purring?...yes, purring into her chest. Must be a changeling thing, she thought. “I don’t want to move,” she admitted quietly as she gazed lovingly down at him.

Shining Armor rose from his seat and slid next to her, his shoulder pressing into hers as he shared her observation. With a sigh, she gave up the sleeping foal to the nanny. The older mare smiled and took him to his crib, smiling another apology at the suddenly downtrodden mare. Shining gave his wife a comforting nuzzle and a quick kiss before guiding her towards the exit.

“He’ll be here tomorrow, and the day after that, and then the next ,” he promised.

A final look into the room showed the nanny tucking in some blankets over the foal and smiling down at the littlest guest of the Crystal Palace. Quietly the door shut behind them, squeaking only at the last moment before clicking in place. Cadence sighed, her heart feeling as though it was missing a piece still inside the room. With a gentle nudge from Shining, the two retired for the night to their quarters, the sound of their footsteps echoing down the hall.

Once the nanny was sure the foal was snug as a bug in a rug, she eyed her own bed nestled just beyond a small door to a side room where she was currently staying. She nodded to herself and checked the clock. It was just a little past midnight. One by one, she began to snuff the candles out about the room with her magic.

“Bedtime,” she told herself as she triple-checked the dear little thing sleeping in the crib. “Good night, you little nipper.” Setting the monitoring spell to go off if the foal should awaken by whatever means, the mare slinked off to bed, stifling a yawn.

She never noticed the green slits in the shadows above her. There were two smaller pair of blue eyes, also slitted and moving about in their sockets as they followed the retreating mare. They then moved at the blink of an eye, trailing after the mare after she had disappeared behind the door, but went no further than the door leading to her bed. A notched ear was cocked to the door after it had closed, listening as the nanny went about preparing for bed.

For fifteen minutes, the trio held stock still, waiting until they could hear the bedsprings bear the weight of a tired pony. The largest form in the shadows lit up her crooked horn for a moment, forming the spell in her mind and slowly releasing it. The monitoring spell was muffled, but not cancelled. To do so might set off an unintended warning. The form closer to the door also released a spell, but only after easing the door open for line of sight before casting a deep sleep spell upon his victim. The other small form had taken position of overwatch at the main door, should either the stallion or the alicorn return.

The changeling queen dropped quietly to the floor, buzzing her wings expertly as her body twisted from her hooves on the ceiling to landing soundlessly. Brushing a strand of her mane from her eyes, she limped slightly towards the crib. Peering over the railing (she thought it was some sort of prison at first) she smiled through her fangs. Her son seemed to sense her presence, smacking his lips as he rolled on his back as if to face her. His regular breathing indicated he was deeply asleep.

“Sleep, my child,” she whispered like a ghost. “I must leave you like this for a while, I’m afraid. I do not want to do this, but I must be sure of your safety.” The queen sat on her haunches, daring a glance at the nanny’s door. The guard there was unmoving, watching it like a dog expecting a rabbit to emerge from its den.

Her wounds still pained her, but she was no longer in danger. The priestess and her followers had done well. She was badly in need of solid food and rest. It would be months before she would be whole again. Already she could taste the love of the Crystal Heart having already replenished a good deal of her magic reserves. Despite the lack of proper food, she felt better than she had in days. The emptiness within was for the moment under control and was not threatening to devour her from the inside out like a ravenous parasite.

That was what the past few days had felt like to her. Her two remaining guards had fared better, but they were not responsible for keeping a nymph fed. Still, they had managed to chase off the remaining assassins and had gone to ground as soon as they saw their queen was safe. They followed their orders. Fresh scars covered them, but their pride shone in their eyes as their queen was quite pleased with them.

They were loyal.

They would die for her.

She cast another spell to keep the room from prying magic. Perhaps Cadence had sought to put wards around the foal, she reasoned, or perhaps that lovesick fool Shining Armor had placed a detection spell or two. Having done so, she then lit up her horn again to seek out what defensive spells might be in place.

There was nothing to respond to the resonance of her pulsing horn.

“The fools,” she hissed, narrowing her eyes. Her voice awakened the foal and he blurted out a cry of annoyance from the interruption in his sleep. “Oh, no! No, no, no, I’m sorry!” the queen whispered, eyes going wide in alarm. “Mommy’s here! I’m here! Right here!” She plucked him from his blankets and brought him beneath her chin, cooing softly. “Mommy’s right here, my little Shadow.”

It wasn’t his true name, nor would it be his last. Changeling mothers often gave their offspring simple names until they matured and earned their adult ones. Her nymph was her Pale Shadow, and no matter where life guided him, he would always be so in her heart.

The crying subsided and turned into a squeal of delight when he recognized who it was.

Mommy!

“Ma-baba-ma!” he giggled. Shadow tried to wrap his hooves around his mother’s neck. She leaned into the embrace, sitting where she stood and began to rock back and forth, humming softly to him.

For a good while she held her nymph. Ponies called him a foal, but it didn’t matter. He was here, he was safe, albeit without protection magic around him. Didn’t they understand his life was in danger? Would the assassins dare go into the Crystal Palace and murder him in his sleep? If they dared tried, she would tear out their jugulars with her bare fangs first! Fighting back the irritated growl in her throat at the naivety of the stupid ponies, she again lit her horn up and soundproofed the room.

“Shatterback,” she commanded, casting a sidelong glance at the changeling in question. Solid blue eyes broke from their stare at the nanny’s door and snapped to, expectantly awaiting orders with eager anticipation. “I want you to watch him while I am gone. His life is more valuable than mine. I cannot do it myself. I’ll be fortunate to spare time to visit him. You are to watch him from the shadows. Join the castle staff. I’ll make sure there is an opening available before I depart this land. Am I clear?”

“The duration, your Majesty?” he asked, tilting his head to one side.

“Until the time comes I can collect my son and resume my proper place as Queen,” she replied. “It could be years. Are you up to it?”

“Your wish is my command, your Majesty!” he said with a confident nod. It would not be the first time he had done an extended infiltration mission. This one would define his career. “I will not fail you.”

“No, you must not,” she agreed, returning her attention to her son. “This is the most precious thing to me in all the world. Watch for threats. Eliminate them. Do not let the prey see you or detect you. No other Infiltrator can match your skills.”

“Those who dare attempt take the prince’s life will never know death is upon them until I take their lives.”

The queen nodded in approval. “As much as I am loathe to say it, harm no ponies. Let the ponies handle ponies. Deal with changeling threats personally. If there are threats from creatures other than changelings, inform the palace without being exposed.”

“Yes, your Majesty!”

“Excellent. If something comes up you do not understand, you are free to improvise. You shouldn’t need to select somepony to feed upon. The Crystal Heart will feed you so long as you remain beneath the great magic dome. You’ve done this before, so I shan’t tell you how to do your job. You’re the best I have.” The queen’s voice was a resonating whisper of two voices humming with each other.

“There is no room for error. I will succeed,” reminded the guard with the slightest of grins.

“One more thing,” she noted, enjoying the snuggling of her son as he burrowed his head into her mane.

Shatterback blinked. “Majesty?”

“Don’t let the ponies make him soft.”

“That goes without saying, your Majesty.”

She nodded, satisfied with her choice of a guardian. Her son, meanwhile, babbled happily into her mane, very glad indeed to have his Mommy back! The love coming from him washed over her like a cascade of joy, making her heart leap in her chest as it turned into a wrenching reminder she would have to leave him again. Worse, she had no idea how long she would be gone. Years? Decades, even?

“I do not trust Zeala,” she went on after taking a moment to enjoy her little Shadow’s love. “She is lean and hungry. I need to surround myself with changelings who are fat and content. However, she has proven to be useful, if a bit old-fashioned.” Not to mention she was trapped here for a thousand years with all the other Crystal ponies...

“She is formidable,” hissed the other guard, speaking for the first time.

“She worships the Old Gods,” snarled the queen. Her outburst jostled her son and he pulled out of her mane to stare up at her with huge, round eyes. “Oh, I’m not mad at you!” she said with a smile, bopping him on the tip of his muzzle. Still, anyling who worshipped things noling was sure even existed was bound to bring thoughts of blood rites and other foul rituals to mind. Some of the Old Gods demanded the most horrible forms of sacrifice. The queen shivered, her son feeling her twinge of disgust at the thought.

“Bah?” he asked, putting a hoof on her muzzle.

She playfully blew a raspberry on it, tossing her wandering thoughts aside and focusing on the few minutes she had left. “I’ll have to go away, little one,” she said with growing, heavy sadness. “I’ll always have you in my heart, everywhere I go.”

The queen drew in her breath softly, cradling her son to her breast. She began to croon softly, hauntingly.

Hush my poor child,
A journey I must make,
Takes me away from your side.
Hush my lone nymph,
I’ll be gone when you wake,
I fear this is but the first divide.
I love you my baby,
Never forget, always know,
A mother knows and weeps.
This was never in my plans.

A kingdom for you,
I must prepare.
A home pure for you,
I must beware.
Those who stand before me,
Will fall to the wayside,
As I do this for you,
My poor child.

Different are you,
My little one.
Special always,
My little son.
Though they fear you,
My only one.
I’ll break them and take them to bow before you!

This place where you are,
Here, you’ll be strong.
Be happy and play,
I’ll return soon.
Those who dare oppose me,
Will feel my wrath, their doom.
All this I do for you,
My poor child.

Unique are you,
My little one.
Perfect to me,
My little son.
One day, a king,
My only one.
I’ll break them and take them to bow before you!

The queen finished her song, her son having fallen asleep halfway through. Tears streaked her cheeks unchecked. She bent her neck and inhaled the fragrance of her only child gently, as if this would be the last time she would ever see him. She could not rule out the possibility it might very well be, Gods’ forbid she did not succeed in her crusade. Mindful not to wake him, she whispered an unintelligible chant into one of his ears, the hint of a smile tugging the corners of her lips. As she did so, her ears swiveled back and forth in circular motions. The queen lifted him with her magic, over the railing and upon the mattress to where the warm covers awaited. Her nymph snuggled deeper into the blankets, which she tugged over and tucked in with great care. Once she was satisfied with her little Shadow’s comfort, she turned away and prepared to leave.

“We must go.” Shatterback and his fellow guard both nodded and quietly made their way to the great window. They looked outside for any flying patrols. Their numbers were small, but the pegasi guards were quick and were taught to be in places where one would least expect them. It did not help the moon felt like a gigantic eye staring down at them as it was a representation of you-know-who.

Clucking her tongue against the roof of her mouth, the queen considered a thought she had overheard the discussion of her son’s name between the alicorn and her annoying husband.

What was I thinking? They’re going to give him an awful pony name!

Obviously, there was nothing to be done about that, but perhaps there was a bit of personal revenge to be had here. The thought passed briefly through her mind and she shook it out, more irritated with herself than anything. She had made the decision to find a safe haven for her little Shadow. There were no other alternatives considering what the queen had in mind.

“Fury, you are with me,” she said as she came up to the two guards. “Shatterback, you know what you need to do. I’ll keep in touch. Keep the spell ready, but hidden.”

He nodded once, then slipped out the window, taking flight and soon disappearing into the night.

“Where do we go, my queen?” asked Fury. He buzzed his wings expectantly.

A wicked smile caused her fangs to glint in the moonlight. “We gather those who were scattered in the aftermath of Canterlot, find out who is still loyal to me, and begin to hunt down those who dared to think I can be deposed. Shatterback will have the most stationary task. We will be very mobile indeed. Come, there is much to be done.”

“By your will, my Queen,” nodded Fury. He hesitated. “Are you well enough for the journey? It has not been enough time for you to recover.”

“Your concern is noted and appreciated, but I cannot dally while false queens and kings seek what is mine by right. I will make due.” She cast one final look at the crib, her eyes softening as she sucked in a sigh of regret. This was the last resort, but with things being as they were, it was really her only choice. “He won’t even know who I am,” she whimpered softly.

“My Queen? Are you well?”

She turned on him, full of rage and power, projecting her full majesty upon the hapless guard who quailed before her. “We go,” she seethed, tired of showing weakness and weary of talking. Fury recoiled before her, falling prostrate to the ground as he felt her anger focused upon him. It was several seconds before she relented, hissing a low, barely audible warning before taking wing and out the window. The changeling spells placed earlier were cancelled out with a glow and a surge of will.

Despite the show, she had a very heavy heart.

It wasn’t until morning when there was a cry of “Eureka!” coming from the master bedroom of Princess Cadence and her Prince Consort. There was the thundering sound of hooves beating the first rays of the sun into the foal’s room, the door flung open wide with a seemingly deranged stallion standing there. Shining Armor wore a huge grin, seemingly ignorant of the nanny gaping at him as she was in the middle of changing the foal’s diaper.

“Highness?” she squawked with a pin in her mouth. Her charge waved all four of his hooves in the air, squirming as he was trying to reach for a bottle near his head.

“Reign Cloud!” he blurted as his wife came sleepily up behind him. “His name is Reign Cloud!”

The newly minted Reign Cloud stared at his father as if the stallion had invented soap flavored ice cream. Cadence simply sighed and rolled her eyes at her husband, following him as he trotted eagerly into the room. Where as her mane was a decidedly understandable mass of bed mane, Shining Armor’s own mane would have done a mad scientist proud.

“That’s very nice, dear,” she yawned, offering a small and apologetic smile to the nanny. “How did he sleep?” she asked her.

“Never heard a peep from him all night,” replied the slightly frazzled mare with what appeared to be a nervous grin. “First time I’ve ever been able to sleep through the night without him waking up even once! I think he’s finally settling in.”

Shining Armor grinned like an idiot.

“Oh, that’s just wonderful!” Cadence picked up Cloud as soon as the fresh diaper was in place. “Did you have a good night’s sleep, sweetie? Hmm? Did you sleep all night all by yourself?” Her smile broadened when the foal smiled back at her.

Author's Note

This was a fun chapter to write. I actually wrote the song completely on the spot, though I really don't know how it will be recieved.

My editors are currently dealing with personal issues and won't be available for the immediate future. That being said, I'd like to extend a big thank you to Magic Man for lending his thoughts and suggestions to this chapter. Thanks, buddy!

Enjoy it, comment, tell me what you like or don't like about it!

4. Questions

Edited by Magic Man

Princess Celestia studied Reign Cloud closely, holding him in her hooves and giving him a very serious raspberry in the dead center of his round little belly. This was a most serious affair indeed, as it was imperative to her she discover all of his weaknesses. The foal shrieked and writhed in a fit of unending giggles; the princess was unmerciful. Again and again she darted in, leading with her muzzle as her gleeful smile spoke volumes.

It had been a month since Reign Cloud came to be adopted by his biological father Shining Armor and his wife Cadence. He was a bundle of energy despite his small size and being a foal did not seem to deter him from getting into just about anything at ground level. Even his wings made it more of a challenge for the servants of the Crystal Palace to foal proof everything that was not tied down or bolted shut.

The determination was made he was between six to eight months old, which caused some confusion as nopony knew exactly how long the gestation of a changeling was. Live birth from changeling mothers were unheard of as the race were egg layers. In all honesty, there was so little known about them, every discovery was presenting its own surprise. Equestrian knowledge of changelings was on par with what they knew on dragons, if that. It had to be surmised the queen had chosen to carry her nymph (“Foal,” Cadence corrected absently as the doctor tried to explain his theory) to full term and bear him live. She might have even taken a pony form during that time to cope with it, but it was only speculation. The only true answers would be gotten directly from the mother’s mouth herself. She was not exactly an interview eagerly anticipated. Given the attack on Canterlot was pushing eighteen months, coupled with the positive match of father and son, it was determined Reign was born in May. The wedding had been late June.

Cadence decided to make May the fifteenth Reign Cloud’s birthday on his official records.

Both parents watched with amusement as Princess Celestia played with the newest addition to the family. The grandparents would be coming in on the evening train, so the solar half of the diarchy of Equestria busied herself with having Reign all to herself. It was a poorly kept secret she absolutely adored foals, having fostered many in her innumerable years on the throne. Most of her students over the centuries had been orphans, or came from poor families. There were exceptions like Twilight Sparkle and Sunset Shimmer, coming from some of the wealthier families.

Yes, Celestia found joy in the bundle before her, his giggling contagious as it left her breathless from her own laughter. She did find it odd Reign seemed more pegasus than either changeling or unicorn, as his parents were. An inquiry would have to be made into Shining Armor’s family tree. Perhaps there was a pegasus or two lurking somewhere in the branches. Maybe it was his changeling heritage disguising his true form. She had no idea. As wise as she was beautiful, Celestia had no idea exactly what power —if any— lay within the foal. Nothing stood out to her. Reign Cloud behaved and acted like any rambunctious foal and was not suited for laid-back parents by any stretch of the imagination. Once he had gotten over his shyness and some of his fears, even looking to Cadence as his surrogate, the little colt was prone to great escapes.

This drove his nanny up the wall.

There were curious insights to his alien heritage. For one, tiny holes seemed to be forming in all four of his legs. They seemed to be no more than shallow pits, but his changeling half suggested they would grow deeper as he grew older. He was also growing buds in his gums indicating he would have fangs like his mother. His eyes had his father’s color, but were slitted like a cat’s. Celestia felt he was attracted to positive moods, perhaps was even empathic to a degree. It was too soon to tell with his young age.

As it was, Shining Armor and Cadence were doing their duties that afternoon. This gave Celestia a few hours to spend with the foal and learn what she could from him with her magic and of course simple interaction with him. They played until he was sleepy, indicated by a mighty yawn as he curled up in her folded hooves and promptly went to sleep.

Now, Celestia was very ancient and very wise. She knew when somepony was watching without wanting to be noticed. It was not magic which guided her, but the common sense in her mind telling her no queen would leave her child behind without a protector to keep an eye on him. It was a subtle spell she cast as the foal slept, but nothing responded to her ping. Celestia was alone, but she trusted her instincts. A wise observer would have moved deeper into hiding if the solar princess was around.

The traces were barely in the air, but she detected lingering remnants of changeling magic. However, she could not quite put her hoof on anything specific. She had an army of scholars back home pouring over the Canterlot archives, digging up anything even remotely related to the subject of changelings. A thousand years of having no contact with them was a serious jog to her memory. As it was, the emergence at the wedding was a rude reminder of why some species were best remembered and not forgotten. How did it slip by? They had once worked with the thestrals under Luna’s wings, but that was long before even her possession by the Nightmare.

It was a headache. Even Luna was having a difficult time mining up what knowledge she had on changelings. It was known their kingdoms were in pockets of magic, much like the lands of the Breezies. Such kingdoms were accessible only by the races which resided within them and the entrances could be anywhere. Apparently Luna’s time as Nightmare Moon had unfortunately dumped her knowledge of changelings in favor of rants and visions of an all-night Equestria. Being blasted not once, but twice by the Elements of Harmony had an unforeseen side effect of taking some of her memories out along with the Nightmare.

Luna had apologized profusely, but it was not her fault. It was simply an unfortunate turn of events and nothing more.

Celestia had tea brought to her. She loved her tea. Especially with a generous slice of triple-layered chocolate cake with the cream cheese frosting. Setting Reign in his portable bassinet and summoning his nanny, she weighed her options after the mare left with the foal, bowing politely and smiling. For a moment, she thought there was something off about that nanny, but she shrugged it off with the first bite of cake. There was a lot of cake as she ruminated on the dilemma.

Sip of tea. Why did the changeling queen see fit to deposit her foal at Shining Armor’s doorstep?

Bite of cake. Obviously, she was being hunted, based on the stories and reports submitted officially.

Sip of tea. Why Shining Armor? Why the Crystal Empire, of all places?

Bite of cake. In her mind, the Crystal Heart played a huge part in the decision, as well as the presence of a changeling population completely detached from the modern political climate of the changeling social structure. Placing Reign Cloud with his father might have also served as peace of mind for the strange queen.

Sip of tea. Was it also a sort of peace offering? Was the act of giving her son to the pony to whom she had controlled with her magic some sort of gesture in the directions of positive dialogue? Was she trying to apologize? Or was it something else?

Bite of cake. It was far too soon to even begin speculate. If anything, only more questions cropped up from this line of thought.

Sip of tea. Why would she seemingly abandon her foal she had worked so hard to bring to his father?

Bite of cake. She didn’t abandon him. After stashing him in what she imagined was the safest place she could think of, the queen had turned her attention on those who had been hounding her. Which meant at some point, when she felt it was right…

“She’s coming back,” she whispered, flicking an ear. It was not a pleasant prospect.

There was a tiny silver bell on the tea tray at her side. She lifted it and gave it three shakes as she finished her cake. A servant appeared, bowed, and smiled expectantly at the princess.

“Get me the watch commander, please,” she said with her patented motherly smile. “Tell him I want all pertinent information on the Chrysalis file within the hour.”

“Yes, your Highness. Anything else?”

“Please inform Princess Cadence and Prince Shining Armor of my request. I won’t be a rude guest in their home. Please make sure they are informed before the commander is. That is all, thank you.” She dismissed the servant with a wink. The stallion trotted off after offering a deep bow.

Chrysalis. It was the name given to the queen as nopony had a clue as to what her name really was. Celestia thought it might be a bit insulting, as the only insect-like properties of the queen (as it was all she referred to herself as) had been her wings. The other changelings exhibited more properties of invertebrates, but she equated them as being more demonic than anything else. Were they demons? It was difficult to say. Ask any everyday pony and they might lean towards the notion of vampiric bug ponies, but for towns that stampeded at the sight of charging baby bunnies, it was hard to get them to see past their illogical fears.

It was the herd mentality at its finest.

“I fear I have run out of cake,” she noted sadly, eyeing the crumbs on her now empty plate. This meant the thoughts of changelings would be set aside for now. Celestia had learned a long time ago when you’re done with your cake, the subject you were thinking of while having cake was done until the next slice. It maintained her sanity, she thought as she sipped her tea.

Her last thought was of a particular affidavit she had skimmed some months ago. It had stuck out in her mind and was the last thought of the subject. "I pride myself on being a pony who is open-minded and tolerant. They are two pillars of our people’s philosophy. But, I am sorry, you must forgive me for having my reservations when it comes to a species that basically wants to EAT-MY-SOUL!"

Sometimes her subjects could simply be unreasonable when it came to their fears. Especially when they were uninformed of this new species to whom they were fueled by rumors and made-up facts. Celestia was working furiously to stop the ignorance from spreading, urging her top officials to bang out words of calm and offering education to the masses. Quotes from ponies thinking a changeling was going to eat their soul if they met them meant there was a lot of fear to be quelled.

It was a three step process. Educate. Educate. Tolerate. Rinse and repeat.

Easier said than done. The largest problems seemed to stem from the larger cities of Equestria, where the generations ingrained herd mentality had led to several unnecessary stampedes in the streets and several impromptu evacuations brought about by fear mongering. Nothing came about it other than copious amounts of property damage and a sudden spike in personal lawsuits. The Reserve Guard had to be called in to restore order and put out the fires (sometimes in the literal sense).

It was one particular incident where just the simple act of a pair of teenage colts standing on top of their school roof, screaming ‘changelings!’ as a prank. It caused an entire town of three thousand ponies to thunder through a corn field in a herd panic, destroying the poor farmer’s efforts for the year.

A mental image of changelings just laughing their flanks off while the ‘crazy ponies’ went running from imaginary threats sprung to Celestia’s mind. When order was restored, the total damage numbered in the tens of millions of bits across the country.

Celestia decided it was time to get some answers from a changeling directly. This High Priestess Zeala to whom Cadence had mentioned a time or two in the past seemed to be the spiritual leader for the changelings in the Crystal Empire. From what her niece had explained, the tall, dark mare seemed approachable and friendly, worshipping (of all things!) love. Though not a queen, Zeala was looked up to as one by some of the changelings, mostly the newer arrivals, while the older inhabitants seemed to go to her for advice. It was naturally, given her position within what was one of the highest changeling castes. Also of note was the simple fact she was the only changeling of the Religious caste of age in all of the Crystal Empire. They were in her time a very small sect and it was proving to also be true in the present.

Next to her was a separate file detailing the events of the early morning hours before sunrise of the unexpected arrival of the queen and her foal. There had been a battle. The city’s guards came across several bodies of dead changelings, though it appeared great pains had been gone through to avoid involving ponies.

“Is it a private conflict?” she wondered as she leafed through the pages. Her magenta eyes skimmed expertly over the words, seeking out something, anything to help her figure out what was going on. The changelings recently uncovered here in King Sombra’s former capitol had proven to be very docile, but at the same time very secretive. There had been reports over the past several months of refugees popping up in small camps, changelings, and moving in a radiating patterns from certain points on the map. They were gone before they could be approached and questioned.

Either they were hiding from settlements or hiding among them in plain sight. Neither brokered much confidence in the princess. There was evidence of conflict, but the magnitude could not yet be determined. A kingdom had fallen, to be certain, but what did that mean to the rest of the world? Were there any other nations or races affected? As of yet, there was nothing more than bafflement from her allies and her less than friendly neighbors were even more tight-lipped. Celestia was worried when the griffons closed their borders to all foreign visitors two months ago. Their ambassador in Canterlot voiced his ignorance and did his best to remain as unavailable as possible, but the princess took his silence to mean something wrong was happening.

For some reason, she felt as though Reign Cloud was at the center of all this turmoil.

Why? Was it because of his mixed heritage?

“I’m going to need another slice of cake for this,” she mused, sipping her tea. Pages drifted along her peripheral vision, shuffling to where she could best access them with a mere glance. Quietly another servant slipped into the room. Seeing the dilemma, the empty plate was quickly replaced with one bearing an inviting new slice of heaven upon it. Celestia smiled and thanked the dutiful pony, taking a moment to chat a bit.

Within the hour there was a polite knock at the door. Celestia opened the door from where she sat on her comfortable cushions. In entered a burly roan Crystal pony stallion wearing ornately burnished plate armor and his white plumed helmet dangling off his shoulder. He wore a very professional military saddlepack bearing the royal seal of the Crystal Empire. A veteran who remembered the reign of Sombra, his eyes were hard and his face was like granite.

“I beg your pardon for the delay, your Highness,” he announced, tilting his head apologetically. “I was told to see Princess Cadence first to advise her of your request for the review of the Chrysalis file.”

Celestia nodded. “I don’t want to step on her hooves as it is her kingdom.”

“It’s appreciated, ma’am.”

“Would you care for some tea?” the princess indicated the teapot with a small, graceful wave of her hoof.

With perfect military bearing, he replied, “No thank you, ma’am. I’m on duty. The princess and her consort should be here soon. They’re finishing up a meeting with the council.”

Celestia chuckled. “Suit yourself.”

On the other side of the room, the double doors there swung in, revealing a chipper Princess Cadence and her glum husband following close behind her. The captain snapped to attention, to which Cadence waved off with a quick wave of her hoof.

“At ease, captain,” she told him. To her aunt, she greeted her with a quick nuzzle before pulling back and asking, “You wanted a look at our files on the changeling queen?”

“I do. There are some questions I should like to have answered,” Celestia replied. “I think we should take what we know and present it to the priestess, Zeala. May I have the file?”

It was hoofed over without question.

“What did you think of Reign Cloud?” Cadence asked. “That will be all, captain,” she noted to the stallion on the side. Back to her aunt, she smiled expectantly. “Isn’t he a dear?”

If the captain seemed bothered by being summoned just to deliver a document, he was unfazed. The material was very sensitive and it made sense to him only the most trusted of ponies to have access to it, much less lug it around. His departure was silent and professional, leaving the two mares and a seemingly disgruntled stallion alone in the room.

“Oh, he’s adorable!” gushed Celestia as she poured tea into a clean cup. She offered it to Cadence, who took it graciously. Shining Armor shook off the questioning offer. “Whatever is the matter, Shining Armor?”

“The motion to inquire about funding a professional hoofball team had to be put on hold,” he groused, plopping on his rump in a chair and huffing. “It’s a referendum, for crying out loud! I’m not trying to pull teeth!”

“Dear,” Cadence said, trying to stifle her grin while still managing some semblance of sympathy, “they don’t even know what hoofball is. They’re a thousand years behind, Shiny. The Equestria Games were still a bit of a shock to them. It’s going to take a generation or two to get them caught up with everypony else.”

“I want my hoofball team,” he whined, looking like a colt who was told to eat his asparagus when he really just wanted his ice cream.

“Not very good at thousand year old politics, I take it?” questioned Celestia with a chuckle at his expense.

“Actually,” Shining said with a wry smirk, “it’s the other way around. They’ve been given representation and all of a sudden they want to dissect and question everything. They’re all like foals given a brand new toy. Good thing they got the world’s best foalsitter to watch over them while they play.” The teasing remark earned a swat to the back of his head from his wife.

“See the violence inherent in the system! Help! I’m being oppressed!” he cried, laughing as she began to pummel him playfully with her hooves.

Celestia sighed, clucked her tongue against her teeth, and cleared her throat. “To business, you two,” she chided them gently. “We may have a problem and I intend to make sure it does not come to fruition.” The file she had asked for was floated to Shining Armor. “I’ll assume you are aware of Chrysalis?”

Shining accepted the file and opened it, leafing through the facts and details of the attack on Canterlot. It was not a very thick file to this point as it focused solely on the queen herself. “More or less. Changelings are a very closed, secretive bunch and they certainly aren’t very open about how their society works, nor about a queen’s political powers, or by Your mercy, if there’s even more than one kingdom. What information we do have comes from the population that came with the Crystal Empire when it reappeared. They’re as backwards to their modern counterparts as the Crystal ponies are to us.”

“Be nice,” Cadence murmured, giving him a nudge. “They’ve done nothing but bend over backwards to catch up.”

“Yes dear,” sighed Shining. To Celestia, he cleared his throat and assumed a more professional tone, “What do you suggest we do?”

Celestia sipped her tea calmly. “The High Priestess Zeala. What do you make of her?”

“A bit creepy, but nice enough, I suppose,” he replied honestly. “I think she knows more than she lets on, but she spends almost all of her time in her temple with her followers, either meditating or comparing theological thoughts with Father Sun Cloud or Perceptor Starcaller.” He referred to Luna’s rather militant head of the Angelic Order of the Lunar Knights, only recently reappointed into existence by the goddess herself.

Luna loved her windy-sounding names for her most devout.

“Did any of Luna’s children see anything?” Celestia asked, settling her gaze on Cadence.

“Not with their numbers as small as they are. The cloister only houses a hooffull of them and they spend most nights in meditation and prayer,” the younger alicorn replied as she shook her head. “Other than that, nothing. If changelings don’t want to be seen, they stay hidden. This was the most blatant act of aggression I’ve seen from them since the wedding. Were you hoping to meet the High Priestess?” She perked up as she asked the question.

“I would like to meet her, as your reports on her have been glowing, if nothing else.”

“She creeps me out,” said Shining, barely suppressing a shudder. “She once whispered in my ear that she could still taste the queen’s pheromones on me.”

Celestia blinked, giving the stallion a speculative expression. Shaking her ethereal mane, she noted, “Sounds like she marked you, Shining.”

“What?” It was his turn to blink. “What do you mean, ‘marked’?”

“I have no idea,” said the solar princess. “Let’s go see this priestess and ask her. She’s the one who brought it up to your attention. How long ago was this?”

The stallion thought for a moment. “I’d say three or four weeks ago, shortly after Reign Cloud was brought to us.” He shot a look of concern at Cadence, who reciprocated in kind.

“And she made no mention of the significance?”

“None.”

“Most curious.” Celestia rose from her seat. “Yes, I think she has answers we need. Perhaps not all of them, but enough to get us pointed in the right direction. Cadence?” She addressed her niece. “Might I use one of your ponies to run an errand for me?”

She smiled and nodded at her aunt. “Of course.” She lifted the same bell Celestia had used earlier and rang it.

It was not difficult to secure a meeting with the changeling priestess. The sun traversed in the sky towards the late afternoon point by the time they made it to the temple grounds. As they wanted to avoid a scene, Celestia donned a hooded cloak while Shining Armor and Cadence followed suit. The need for secrecy had been stressed to Father Sun Cloud and they were ushered quickly.

Once inside, they were met with a very large pegasus mare in loose-fitting robes of midnight blue, open at the front to reveal a chainmail shirt beneath. She was quiet, reserved, but watched everything like a hawk with her golden eyes. Her mane was short and peppered, showing her age, but beneath her dappled coat lay honed muscles defying the ravages of time. Where Father Sun Cloud was a jovial sort, Perceptor Starcaller was a grim mare with a stony visage.

Perceptor Starcaller was also a mare of very few words.

She followed them from the Temple of the Sun, across the meditative gardens, past the Celestia fountain, and towards a humble single-story thatched building constructed not of crystal — as was most of the structures of the Crystal City— but of stone. Compared to the slender spires of both the Solar and Lunar temples, it seemed small and unassuming. An odd collection of symbols had been painted over the main door, each one representing an emotion. The spidery language of the changelings spoke a saying neither Cadence nor Shining Armor could understand. A hunchbacked changeling sweeping the walk leading up to the door saw them approach and stepped aside, bowing from within his silk black robes.

“Guests! Do you seek High Priestess?” he asked humbly, his voice buzzing as he spoke. One eye seemed larger than the other.

“We are here to see the priestess, Zeala,” Celestia told him.

The misshapen changeling blinked, swiveling his head towards Father Sun Cloud, then back to Celestia. His jaw hung open as something registered in his mind there was something amiss. He recited as if from something committed to memory. “Ah, who you?”

“Igor, this is one of the princesses of Equestria,” said the holy stallion gently. “She is expected. Go see us to your mistress.”

“Yes, yes, Father Cloud, I go.” Igor dropped his broom and skittered inside. “Come! Come! All welcome! Nice mares welcome! Nice stallions welcome! Big gray mare welcome, even if scary!”

Shining gave Starcaller a curious look.

“Stepped on him,” she grunted. “Accident. Might have yelled at the poor sot.”

Sun Cloud harrumphed as he went by her. “You scared the poor fellow through his next three moltings, Star.”

Starcaller shrugged and grunted.

They went inside and found the interior to be filled with large vases lined along the walls and filled with scrolls. The walls were painted white and were unadorned save for glowing spheres of amber providing light. The ceiling was a series of murals depicting events of importance. Changelings in gray robes gave them a passing moment of interest before going about their business. An odd thrumming sound of wings reverberated throughout the structure, rising and falling in volume, but always maintaining a steady beat.

Igor led the group down a low, wide hallway. Curiously, there were no doors as they passed the darkened rooms on either side. Every few steps, he would look over his hump to see they were still coming, grin crookedly, then resume his lead. Shining thought it was very unnerving the way the changeling eyed them. He found his gaze nervously shifting to the shadows, as if expecting changelings to come leaping out at him. The stallion shivered.

Cadence took note of his apprehension and leaned into him. “Are you all right?” she asked quietly.

“I’m fine,” he assured her unconvincingly. “Nerves, I guess.” Oddly enough, Shining had always thought his wife would have a more negative reaction to changelings. No, she’s always been strong, stronger than others give her credit for. He knew he had married the right mare as she offered her unwavering support. He had no idea entering into a den of changelings would illicit such a reaction.

They were ushered into a double wide entrance at the far end of the hall. Inside was a sprawling room rising towards the back to a massive desk of obsidian. There was red, thick carpeting on the floor and several iron stands with several candles in each corner provided the majority of the light. There were no windows, but shelves seemed to fill every inch of wall space. They groaned under the weight of books of all sizes and languages. Some were stacked on the floor. Various baubles and odds and ends were arranged neatly, some bizzare, others simply strange. At the center of the room was a globe of the world, mounted on a pedestal of beautifully worked oak. Scrolls were set about behind the desk along the wall where there were no tomes. Seated at the desk was the rising figure of a very tall and gaunt changeling, the High Priestess Zeala.

Her ebony hood was back, revealing a face bearing scars over her muzzle and left brow. Part of her left mule-like ear was missing. Her twisted horn rose from the middle of her forehead like a pitted dagger, curving forward. Strands of her pale gray mane fell over her blue-green eyes, cerulean just like a certain queen’s. They glowed softly, watching them with a sharpness and attention to detail as she drank in the visions of her visitors. A pleasant smile was plastered across her muzzle and her fangs glinted dully in the light of the three candles she had on her desk. Adjusting her robes, she strode vibrantly around her desk, bowing as protocol demanded, first to Princess Celestia, to whom she greeted.

“I am so very pleased to at last meet the famed goddess of the ponies,” she proclaimed, giving a curtsy and revealing the many holes in her forelegs as prevalent in all changelings.

Celestia smiled, but chided, “I thank you, High Priestess, but I am not a goddess, despite what you might have heard.”

The changeling merely smiled and nodded. “Igor, you may go. Take care of it, if you please. It is time.”

“Yes, Priestess,” grunted the hunchback. He ignored the others as he shuffled back from whence he had come.

“It?” Cadence asked curiously.

“A small matter of no importance, I assure you,” replied the priestess. She indicated Sun Cloud with a hoof. “I understand you had something of urgency to discuss with me? Please, come in and be welcome. I shall have refreshments brought.”

“It’s in regards to Prince Armor’s foal,” the priest said as the ceiling opened and cushions dropped to the floor by the globe. “The sitting room, I assume?” he asked politely.

The tall changeling nodded, gesturing to one of the book shelves. It swung inwards silently, revealing an entrance and a room beyond it. “I like to utilize all the space I can,” she said grandly. “Efficiency is paramount, considering the lack of room until our temple is built.” Zeala’s eyes settled on Armor. “So, how is your son, Prince Consort?”

“Hungry,” he replied. “Always hungry. Remember you said something a while back about the queen marking me?”

“I do.” She herded her guests into the adjacent room where a simple table with benches sat. There was a small banquet of simple fare set upon it, complete with goblets of wine. It was mostly breads and cheeses of different variety, but also some peculiar looking fruits of dark, unusual colors, the kind presumably found in their homeland. “Sit where you please, it matters not.”

They did so, waiting for Celestia to sit first before Cadence followed, then the two heads of the temples dedicated to the alicorn sisters. Then Shining Armor took his seat next to his wife, followed by Zeala. “I understand that cannot possibly be the only question you have for me,” she noted, helping herself to a bit of cheese. “Oh, help yourselves. I don’t think we need to be formal here.”

“That’s appreciated,” replied Celestia with a chuckle. “I’d like to start with what Shining Armor spoke of. What is this marking and why would the queen in question wish to do such a thing?” She sipped from her wine and made a face of pleasant surprise when she found it delightfully sweet, yet not overbearingly so.

“Ah, yes. A queen’s marking of her property is a way she can tell other mares to look elsewhere for a mate,” Zeala said as though she was giving a lecture to a class of school nymphs. She eyed the white stallion up and down suggestively. “Not surprising if she found a stallion she feels is a good match to produce strong offspring.”

“I-I beg your pardon?” blurted Cadence, clutching her husband protectively. “He’s mine!”

“Hear her out, my dear niece,” said Celestia, again laughing. “Chrysalis won’t be reaching out of the shadows to pluck him from you, I promise.”

“I trust you,” the younger alicorn said, nuzzling her husband. “But I have faith in Shining, too. But I must know why would a pony be chosen by a changeling? That doesn’t make sense!”

“No, it does not,” agreed the priestess as she swirled her goblet with her magical grasp. ”I am sorry she found your husband suitable and, his good looks aside, even I am disturbed by it. Changelings were never meant to find, well...romantic relations with other species. They were meant to feed on love from other species without being invasive about it. As you know, we need to feed on love in order to maintain our magic and to grow our young. As we feed off the magic emanating off the Crystal Heart, there is no need for us to seek out other...creatures to empower us.”

“Such an interesting choice of words,” noted the Sun Princess with a hint of steel in her voice.

Zeala splayed her ears and was apologetic. “I meant no offense.”

“None taken,” replied Celestia, sipping her wine. “But mind what you say, if you would. We need answers and you are the only one who can provide the ones the rulers of this city need. A foal’s life could be very much at stake.”

“You have nothing to fear from this queen in regards to her hatchling. The...nymph was left in your care because that is what males do in changeling society.” Zeala tore a chunk of bread from a fresh loaf and bit into it. She chewed and swallowed. “It is our way. Or rather, it was.” Her musing was more to herself as she exhaled soflty.

Cadence cleared her throat as the two stallions blinked. Shining Armor was not sure how to take the statement, though he seemed torn between taking it as a compliment or an insult. He nodded at her to continue. “So you say,” she said. “But why did she bring Reign Cloud here? What is going on that had her attacked by her own kind?” The priestess she was addressing narrowed her eyes at the mention of the foal’s new name.

“She bred outside the species and bore a halfling,” replied Zeala quickly, a touch of venom in her words. “He is an abomination and her own subjects rejected her. The Royal caste will not tolerate an impure line and will go to any lengths to preserve that purity. Though such a birth is exceedingly rare, even almost impossible, most changeling mothers abort the pregnancy as the chances of a live birth are even slimmer. I wasn’t there, obviously, but I can guarantee the uproar was enough as to depose her and send her running soon after giving birth.”

“So, Chrysalis fled to protect her foal from other changelings,” mused Celestia.

“Chrysalis?” Zeala frowned, cocking a brow. “That is not her name.”

Shining Armor coughed uncomfortably. “Well, we didn’t know her name, so our intelligence community came up with one for her for our investigation. How did she know to come here? Everything in our current investigation points to her knowing you in some way.”

“Prior to the night she came, I never met her before.”

“But then why did she seek you out? Surely there had to be other priestesses she could have contacted.”

Cadence gasped as certain pieces clicked together in her mind. “Zeala, you have no influence with the current political upheaval among the changeling kingdoms!” she exclaimed. “You’re neutral, because of the separation from other changelings.”

“More or less. A changeling is never truly neutral. However, as a member of the Religious caste, I am considered above what goes on between the kings and queens of my race. As such, it is my responsibility to be a beacon to those in need, even if they commit the greatest sin a changeling can commit.” Zeala’s eyes hardened as she swept them over her gathered guests. They softened. “But what’s done is done.”

“Do you think she’ll come back for him?” Celestia asked, having remained silent to dissect the conversation to this point.

Zeala shook her head. “It is difficult to say. It is very possible she will attempt to regain what she has lost. More than likely, she viewed this city and its Heart as a ward against those intent in harming her offspring. She does not know the Crystal Heart is not the stalwart defender she thinks it to be. Keeping that in mind, she may also think the power of an alicorn might be enough to deter her enemies from seeking the queen’s progeny out and slaying him.”

“Not nice,” muttered Starcaller. She had touched nothing on the table.

“No, it is not,” agreed the dark mare. “If she survives retaking her kingdom, I imagine she will return for her offspring. From the short moment I was with her, I was able to feel the strength of the bond between her and the nymph. It is as strong as any I have seen, perhaps even more so. I can only imagine how much pain it caused her to leave the…” She cleared her throat as she evaluated her words. “Halfling.”

“Do you think it’s possible she could succeed?” asked Cadance.

“This...Queen Chrysalis, as you call her, well… I would have to say her chances are most slim. With all of her nobles having turned against her and other changeling monarchs no doubt seeking to take her territory as their own,” Zeala shook her head, “she is finished. It is not a matter if she dies, but when.”

“I...kinda feel bad for her,” Armor piped up, turning his head to his wife for support. She nodded, sharing his sentiments. “I mean, we obviously can’t overlook her war crimes against Equestria, but regardless, it’s still monstrous for anyone to be exiled from their own kingdom simply for having a foal.”

“Yes, but keep in mind, there are many changelings who see see bearing a mixed breed to also be monstrous,” said Zeala flatly before finishing her wine. “Mark my words, Prince Consort, the threat to your son is very grave. They will send changelings to kill him, with no interest in anything else in this kingdom of yours. Make protecting him your greatest priority, if you care for him. I will do what I can to warn you before hand should there be an impending attack from assassins.”

“Why would you do this?” asked Celestia curiously. “You’ve given all indications you do not care for Reign Cloud. Dare I say there might even be your own hatred for him.”

Zeala snorted, matching the Sun’s intense stare with a cool one of her own. “I am the High Priestess to the most powerful of emotions the changelings desire the most. My personal beliefs mean nothing when compared to the dictates of my faith. It took some deep soul-searching to see my way of thinking has proven to be no longer validated in this day and age. I wish to change and I feel the first step is to support your Reign Cloud in his chances for a long and happy life.”

“Then he shall have a long, happy, and loved life,” Princess Cadence announced firmly, placing a hoof on her husband’s own.

They chatted for another hour or so, discussing other concerns before those gathered decided it was time to leave the priestess to her ministrations of her faith. Zeala escorted them out, all smiles and also with a sense she had earned a bit more trust from the parents who ruled this land. She could feel it, though Celestia was oddly neutral to her. The other two heads of their respective temples were more or less the same as they were as they had gotten to know her. Neither fully trusted her, but were willing to give her the benefit of the doubt.

Sometime after they had gone, she was back at her desk, going over a few proposals as well as the more recent cost estimates of her precious temple. Behind her building the foundations had already been laid out and slowly the walls were beginning to rise. The materials were more expensive than she had anticipated, but it was yet another obstacle in her path.

The mare sighed, reaching into her desk. From a drawer, she produced a small vial filled with a clear liquid. She set it on the desk and stared at it, sipping at her wine as she weighed her options. There was an opportunity, a chance to make her relevant to the kingdoms which had forgotten her. The queen oh-so-quaintly nicknamed Chrysalis had provided it. Setting the estimates aside and clearing her desk until nothing but the vial was set upon it, Zeala chewed on her bottom lip, flicking her snaking tongue over her fangs as she did so.

The door quietly opened and Igor shuffled into the room. There was no announcement, nothing from his end in terms of proper protocol. He simply entered. Igor whispered into her bent ear after coming around the desk, “It hatches.”

Zeala blinked, slowly turning her head woodenly to look at him, her eyes flashing first with irritation, then hate, and then finally, resignation.

“Do you wish to see the hatching?” he gurgled patiently. “You said to tell you if it hatches and so it is hatching and I come to tell you.”

“Go to it. Wait for me.” Zeala eyed the vial, then quickly put it back from whence she pulled it. The hunchback gave no indication he heard her, but simply turned and departed the same way he had come in. She rose to her hooves, brushing the thought of Igor’s words aside for the moment as she composed herself. The priestess was rattled, but there were no eyes to see the anger in her form. She purged it, thinking instead of the contents of that clear vial.

As she departed, a smile crawled across her muzzle from behind her fangs.

Author's Note

Okay, I think I've got everything set. We're going to start moving forward a few years, give Reign Cloud a chance to grow up a little bit and settling into his new home.

Of course, it's not all sunshine and rainbows, as you'll soon see. If anyone remembers, I really don't plan these stories out other than how it ends. But, for this one, I've got the whole thing mapped out in my head from beginning to end. That's a first. Let's see if I can follow my own directions and don't get lost!

Originally I was going to call this chapter "Chrysalis", but I think I'll save that for later. Enjoy!

A special thanks to Magic Man for pre-reading and offering his hand in editing. Once again proving the bonds between the United States and Great Britain are as strong as ever! You see that green on his name at the top? Click it and read his stories, please!

As always, comments are welcome!

Now, I need to do a little work on MDC and...NMoO...and Foals...mustn't forget Foals. Four stories. I regret nothing!

5. Sickness

Edited by Iakovl and Magic Man

Princess Mi Amore Cadenza spent her free time bonding with her newly adopted son. She accepted him readily, as if she had been the mare who carried him in her womb for eleven months. She nuzzled him ceaselessly, making cooing noises as Reign Cloud giggled loving every minute of their play time together. Though her marriage to Shining Armor was still new and exciting to her, she had hoped to provide for him a son or a daughter by now. As it was, she was still lacking in that department, unable to provide her husband any mare’s ultimate gift to him; a child of his own.

She was not troubled, but the whisperings of gossip from Canterlot’s snobbish nobility was often centered on her seeming inability to bear a foal. Of course, the alicorn was not about to lower herself to their level; she was far above that.

Princess Celestia was more than happy to take care of the rumors for her.

Shining Armor, former Captain of the Canterlot Guard, Prince Consort to Princess Mi Amore Cadenza, and the one and only B.B.B.F.F. to Princess Twilight Sparkle, was oblivious to the rumors. Certainly, his wife spoke to him about such gossip and like any other stallion, he rolled his eyes and snuggled his wife until she stopped fretting over the words of bored nobles looking for scandal for the sake of hiding their own shortcomings. He could also present Reign in front of her and her mood would lighten as she happily accepted the proffered gift.

Though he missed his mother’s scent and never could find her in his searches, Reign Cloud eventually latched on to Cadence after six months and clung to her whenever he could. There were many times he would start howling and chirping in panic when his nanny would take him away from her so the princess could perform her duties. Of course, she enjoyed having a little one to dote over and it did a great deal to lessen the pressure expected of her to bear a foal. When she did decide to take certain days off to relax and unwind, she always took Reign with her as she explored the city and met with her subjects.

She was considered the Ponies’ Princess.

They bonded and Reign did indeed begin to see her as his new mother. He babbled nonsensical words as he was beginning to learn how to speak. Reign was a very loud foal when he decided to speak, rather ‘make with the noises’, as Shining Armor would note to his wife. She took him everywhere when she went to visit her subjects, either in his nanny’s grasp, a stroller or nestled in a foal saddle between Cadence’s wings. Sometimes his father would accompany them, if his work gave him a free moment to have family time. Reign was surrounded by a world of bright colors and smiling faces. Early experiences in the city involved a lot of smiling mares peering at him and cooing, while congratulating the princess.

Cadence went out of her way to be approachable. She could not fully convince her subjects to do away with all of the formalities, but toning down the bowing and scraping had varying degrees of success. When her subjects did not go to her, she went to them. She chatted them up and had the talent in bringing out a smile from even the most nervous of ponies. It was the ghost of Sombra, the memory of his rule she had to battle, and she felt she was slowly winning.

She pointed out to Reign —though he was too young to understand— the importance of showing kindness and love towards others. Even if it was towards the most miserable and bitter of ponies who would likely never return the favor. The curiosity of the populace in regards to the Halfling was for the most part positive and inquisitive. However, the small population of changelings gave a wide berth to Princess Cadence, as if they were afraid. The princess wondered if they were afraid of him, afraid of their own legends in regards to Halflings, or if they just had no idea how to approach the half breed. There were a few of the more recent immigrants from the mysterious changeling kingdoms who were not afraid to see the foal for themselves, mostly mares.

Some of the changeling mares were...huge. Some almost Celestia-sized, not unlike the queen. Cadence was only slightly larger than the average pony mare, comparable to Fleur De Lis. They were unnerving, the way their eyes bore into hers, mostly due to the simple fact there were very much territorial, especially when it came to their little ones. They eyed the colt with the princess and could smell the changeling in him.

She was able to spend a little time with a rather large and plump changeling who introduced herself as Wilda. A mother of six, she was very receptive of Cadence after the princess approached her in the park one day while her hatchlings played.

Wilda was, in fact, a former subject of the queen and had been aware of the day his birth had been announced throughout the land she had once called home. When the Noble caste turned on the queen and ousted her, she packed up her family (including her husband, who was barely half her size) and moved to the Crystal Empire.

Along with other emigrant changelings Cadence had the pleasure of meeting were able to fill in some gaps in Reign’s early months of life piece by piece. As she explained, Reign was allowed to romp with her two youngest hatchlings. The mares (including the nanny) watched them play carefully.

With the collapse of the changeling kingdom following the queen’s ouster, the commoners fled from their homes, Wilda explained, while the nobles and other kingdoms swept in to take what they could from a land without a queen. Thousands died and the world went on unaware of their deaths.

Cadence asked why she, along with Princess Celestia and Princess Luna, had heard nothing of it and the allies of Equestria were just as oblivious. Only the griffons remained silent as they neither confirmed nor denied the events.

Changelings, Cadence learned, lived in pocket dimensions, like Breezies. Their homes were bound in the magic leylines and hid them from the outside world. It enabled them to remain hidden and isolated for centuries.

No wonder nopony had heard of them in a thousand years!

Enlightened and grateful, Cadence asked Wilda if she and her friends could visit more often so she might learn more of changelings and their ways, as Zeala was elusive in providing more intimate details. The big mare agreed.

Shining Armor was filled in with the details at the end of the day as his family set down to dinner. Concerned his wife was meeting changelings openly, he was rebuffed from his fears when she pointed out Zeala was frequenting the palace with her petitions for whatever schemes she had going on. Most recently, she had been curious as to the colt’s health.

As the days went by, they stretched into weeks and weeks into months. With their advisors, Cadence and Shining Armor decided it was best to introduce their child. Out of love they did this, despite the undeniable and contentious heritage of Reign to those who took exception. Hiding both him and his mixed blood would more than likely backfired on them in the long run. It was —for all intents and purposes— a leap of faith. The controversy was going to be unavoidable, no matter what approach they took, but at least this way, it would be a lot less painful. Shining found it a bit of an embarrassment, but his wife supported him completely. She started by formally announcing her adoption of Reign Cloud on his second birthday. All the princesses of Equestria were invited, as well as the Element Bearers. Notable kingdoms sent representatives. Even a few changelings were spotted paying their respects.

Of course, there were those parties who flat out rejected the Halfling. Purists, xenophobes, bigots, and plain ignorant characters, including some of the holdover changelings from Sombra’s reign, howled and stomped and railed against the Reign Cloud being made the official heir to the Crystal Throne. Not surprisingly, those who wanted the foal dead were unheard from.

A hidden observer watched the whole of the proceedings with a heavy heart.

Celestia, Luna, and Twilight Sparkle supported Cadence proudly.

Luna simply wanted to play with Reign Cloud when all was said and done.

It was about this time the nanny changed. Replacing her was one Miss Aerial Glow; a widow, foaless, and a career nanny since she finished her schooling as a filly. The one she replaced wanted to retire and spend the rest of her days spoiling her grandchildren in Trottingham. Cadence was sad to see her go, but gave her a modest pension and wished her a happy retirement. Miss Glow proved to be very in tune with Reign Cloud. Shining Armor was suspicious of the middle-aged mare, but her calm demeanor and motherly smile won over his wife.

Reign Cloud was prone to bouts of sickness. At first, they seemed to last a day or two, then he would be right as rain. There were no experts on changeling biology who could explain what ailments would be detrimental to a half breed. Even the pony doctors were baffled. As nothing seemed too serious for now, both parents insisted on testing the foal to make sure his health could be maintained. Progressively, it grew worse.

Some weeks later, the tests came back showing Rein Cloud’s immune system was deteriorating. It seemed his health had been kept in check by the love his mother had engorged him with before departing. Now that her personal gift to him was being used, the colt was becoming more and more prone to bouts of sickness. In short, he needed the love only his mother could provide. It broke Cadence’s heart that she could do nothing Shining Armor felt just as helpless.

Something had to be done to keep the colt healthy, but the answer was not forthcoming. Reign Cloud became increasingly ill, and it frustrated all those concerned to no end. He cried from the constant discomfort his body gave him. Unlike most changelings, Reign could not recover his health through the normal consumption of love. As an outcast to most changelings, there were none in the Crystal Empire who had the knowledge to find the solution to the problem, be they changeling or pony.

For all intents and purposes, Reign Cloud was dying.

Shining Armor was greatly pained as he realized he was losing his son so soon after discovering him. Cadence felt since she was the Princess of Love, she should be able to do something for this little foal she had so easily given her love to. There was a discussion in making an effort to seek out the queen through the grudging acceptance she could provide the only source of love capable of restoring Reign’s health. Where she was at this point was a mystery, as she seemingly had disappeared into the shadows, as if she had never been.

The weeks dragged on painfully, with Reign soon confined to bed and too weak most of the time to even cry. Cadence was rendered so distraught she refused to eat or sleep and was almost always found sitting by his side in almost a trance-like state, slowly and robotically brushing his little fringe. Her husband simply watched over his son, finding no words of encouragement to offer and occasionally following his basic paternal instincts and laid by his side to cuddle him. Fearing only the worst awaited, quietly and with heavy hearts, the royal couple started to make arrangements for his funeral. Rumors cascaded down into the city like a creeping cold front, bringing down the spirits of the empire’s citizens.

Eventually, words reached the ever-ready ears of the High Priestess Zeala. Shortly after, as she anticipated, a request was sent from Princess Cadence for her presence. Knowing what the frantic mare was hoping for, Zeala simply smiled and made preparations. As if expecting this moment. she packed a few important things into a satchel and stepped from her abode and taking flight towards the citadel. Clouds obscured the moon and stars, allowing her to move undetected. Changelings were very good at staying hidden.

Like a dark wraith, she appeared in the Prench doors leading out from the balcony, having easily evaded the guards. She took note of the two exhausted parents, sleeping in each other’s hooves on a hastily emplaced couch next to the crib. Her tall form glided across the floor, not even her robes making a sound as she warily watched the parents. Zeala could not imagine the dreams of the alicorn and the unicorn, but she could feel their despair.

This would not do.

She considered announcing herself, as the summons had come with haste. As it was, the night air was cool and soothing, so she allowed the two parents their sleep as the breeze followed her into the cavernous chambers of the foal. There, in his oversized crib slept the fitful form of Reign Cloud, tiny and helpless.

“Majesties,” she called out, after taking a moment to look over the colt. A flicker of disdain crossed her features, but quickly passed. “I have come as you asked.”

Cadence snapped awake, her eyes searching about wildly until they settled on the tall, slender form of the robed changeling. “Priestess!” she cried out after a moment to gather her wits. “The summons was for you to come by in the morning!”

“It’s just after three,” Zeala noted politely, sloughing off her bag like a skin and setting it on a nearby table. “I do not know why you did not at first come to me. I had heard the child was ill, but did not wish to impose myself. I did do research of my own, consulting the ancient words of my ancestors.”

“We-we didn’t want to presume—” the princess stammered, still fighting to push the sleep from her mind. It had been hard enough to find, but now that it had gripped her… “I’m sorry, I’m still fighting to wake up,” she admitted. Seeing her husband was still snoring, she nudged him with a hoof. “Honey, wake up. Zeala’s here. In the middle of the night. When everypony’s supposed to be sleeping.” She yawned, making a little squeaking sound as she did so.

The stallion snorted awake, blinking his eyes wide open. “Huh? Whazzat? Turnips! Turnips everywhere!” He found his wife. “Did we win?” Shining asked.

“Priestess Zeala is here, Shiny,” she told him patiently.

“How’d she get past the guards?” the unicorn asked, spying the changeling out.

“You ponies never look up,” answered the changeling smoothly, her multi-layered voice humming. Zeala’s attention shifted to the foal still sleeping fitfully. “His strength is waning, my Lady, my Lord.”

Cadence hurried to her son’s crib. “Is there nothing you can do?” A nervous stare at Shining was rewarded with a comforting nuzzle as he followed her.

“Hmm, perhaps there is something I may be able to do,” the priestess said. Breathlessly the couple watched anxiously as a small vial of clear liquid was produced from the bag Zeala had brought. Hefting it to the faint light, she regarded it carefully, as though the weight of the world lay within its contents.

“What is it?” Shining asked, eyeing the vial in the changeling’s magical grasp.

“It is an ancient potion, one of few that can be made these days. To us, it is the Essence of Emotion, very powerful and with two sides to it.” Zeala gazed upon it with reverence, her voice having dropped to a hovering awe. “It takes a century to make and ten years to administer. It is rare enough to be considered forbidden.”

“Essence of Emotion?” Cadence scrunched her muzzle and furrowed her brow. “What are the two sides to it? Are they the good and bad parts?”

Zeala nodded at the princess. “It is partly good, partly evil. It is the balance between the two forces in eternal struggle. It is through random chance the one who takes it will get one part of the Essence more strongly than the other. It could either cripple or cure.”

“What can it do for Reign?” Cadence reached in and gently stroked the foal’s forehead. He seemed to quiet at her touch, trying to snuggle against her hoof.

“I don’t like it,” cut in Shining Armor, placing himself between Zeala and his son.

She shrugged, and began putting the vial away. “Very well. I certainly won’t force anything upon the two of you, but the colt will be dead within the week.” Her eyes went slightly wide as she paused, staring into the satchel before slowly turning to look abashed at the Prince Consort. “I must apologize. I’m insensitive, but the truth remains, your son will be dead within a week unless he takes the essence”

“He can’t die!” cried Cadence, wakening Reign as her voice shrilled. He began to cry and she immediately scooped him up.

“What goes on in here?” snapped an older mare’s voice irritably.

There was a grunting sound and the nanny emerged from her room and into the nursery. Aerial Glow took one look at the tall changeling and barged forward, straight for Cadence before placing herself squarely between the foal and the changeling.

“What do you want, priestess?” she growled in a manner that made even Shining Armor’s hackles rise. “It’s after three in the morning!”

Aerial snorted, stamped a hoof, and lowered her horn, charging it up already with her magic. Zeala rolled her eyes at the mare. “None of that. We are discussing the possible stabilization of Reign Cloud’s health. Thus far, the options are becoming fewer and fewer. Time grows shorter and shorter. The thread of his life grows ever shorter and the only solution I can think of lies within my bag. Its effects are not guaranteed, but the alternative of doing nothing will produce a result none of us desire.”

“Poison!” snarled Aerial, narrowing her eyes. “Not one drop near him! Not one, you evil love-worshipping nag!”

“I’m aware it’s after three. The high priestess was told to come in the morning and she did.” Cheeky mare! Cadence blinked at her even as she tried to soothe Reign. “That doesn’t even make any sense,” she declared in a whisper to herself. Using her magic, she tried to use a soothing spell to quell her adopted son’s pain.

“It is not poison,” assured Zeala flatly. “It is blessed by the Love Goddess Herself.”

Cadence opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off.

“With all due respect, not you,” grinned the changeling. “Though I still question your announcement of the foal to the world. Foolish, my princess. Very foolish. I am curious as to know why?”

“Never mind that,” said Shining as he gently pushed the overprotective nanny back towards his wife. “Zeala, what does that potion of yours do? No riddles.”

“I offer none,” replied the tall changeling. “I’ve consulted the ancient scrolls in the temple and this is the only viable solution to saving your son’s life. The Essence of Emotion is the purest form of love as created by the Great Queen Nepheris, back in an age when all changelings answered to one queen and the sun and the moon moved of their own accord.”

Cadence conjured a full bottle of milk from the kitchen. “Miss Glow? Would you take him, please?”

The nanny’s mood switched to a doting caregiver the moment the foal was presented to her. “Of course!” Eager hooves snatched the colt from Cadence’s grasp.

As the two mares exchanged the colt, Shining Armor listened intently to Zeala as she again produced the small vial from her bag. “Here. Look for yourself. It is perfectly harmless to ponies.” She levitated it to him and tilted her head slightly to one side with a smile. Her fangs made Zeala look like a ravenous wolf.

Pushing down the urge to recoil from that grin, the unicorn accepted the proffered item with his magic. It was perhaps a little over an inch long and as thick as a newborn unicorn’s horn. The glass itself seemed thick and was sealed with a thick piece of cork. Shining Armor held the vial up to an eye and squinted at it. The contents inside seemed to swirl, though it was obviously clear. It was as though there was something within the liquid, invisible and blurred.

“What’s inside it?” Shining asked. “I mean, you say it’s pure love.”

“It’s the Essence of Emotion,” Zeala corrected with a purr. “It is considered sacred. Queens covet what is within that vial. For them, it is power the likes of which would lay low the greatest bearers of magic. A queen would raise up an empire if she were to have but a taste of the contents you hold in your grasp.”

Shining recoiled, nearly dropping the vial.

“But the price for such power would be a quick death for a changeling. Too much love taken in at once would render her body unable to contain such emotions.” Zeala chuckled as she smoothly walked past the Prince Consort and regarded Cadence and the nanny. “For a pony, it would do nothing to them. Perhaps make them feel a bit...happier than usual, more receptive to loving others, more...accepting. For a Halfling…” Her words trailed off as she bent forward to regard Reign Cloud, assuming a neutral gaze. The twin pools of her harlequin eyes flickered as she felt his focus and his emotions wash over her like a warm summer rain.

There was a bit of lightning in this cloud, she mused as she sensed his dislike of her flare up. Zeala hadn’t realized she had leaned in so close until he suddenly lunged forward with a growl and nipped her on the muzzle. She jerked her head back with a startled yelp, even as Cadence sternly reprimanded the sickly foal half-heartedly. Aerial Glow curled the foal to her breast, shock registering on her features.

“Gah! You little beast!” shrieked Zeala, a hoof to her muzzle. She pulled it from her and examined it. There was green blood. Her eyes flared, focusing on the colt. His own blue eyes locked with hers coolly, as if his body was not wracked with pain. His mother’s spirit lay within and for a fleeting moment, Reign Cloud was unafraid.

Then, he began to bawl like a normal foal.

“I’m so sorry!” Cadence apologized, anxious as she first checked on Reign. Shining Armor had shifted, eyeing the changeling priestess with alarm. “He didn’t mean to! He just doesn’t know you!”

Suppressing an urge to utter profanities, Zeala found a handkerchief hoofed to her by Shining. Sighing, she accepted it. “My apologies. His reflexes seem to very much that of a hatchling’s.” The priestess blotted her injury and sighed when she saw more blood staining the white cloth. “He doesn’t care for me much, I fear.”

“I’m sure it’s the smell,” muttered Aerial in a voice just for Reign. He quieted down and largely forgot the incident as the bottle was presented for his consideration. Soon he was drinking greedily, his pitiful state for the moment forgotten. “That’s a good boy. Drink it all up.” His milk not only was supplemented with love, but also had medication for the pain.

“Are you all right?” Cadence asked Zeala when she made sure Reign was quieted down.

“It was my mistake,” sighed Zeala, waving off the princess. “I felt his disdain for me, but my curiosity as I spoke overrode my common sense. ‘Tis but a scratch.” Inside she seethed as her perfect face was now marred, if only for a week at most. It would heal. It had to heal!

“The vial?” Shining said, hoping to get the subject matter back on track. “You were saying. If it can kill a changeling, but does nothing to a pony, what can it do to my son?”

The changeling hummed as she gave the handkerchief one last look. “I am not completely certain. Depending on how dominant either half of his heritage is, I do not know fully the effects.” She flickered her attention to Aerial Glow, musing for a half a second. Ah, of course.

“It’s his only hope, unless you can reunite him with his mother. Only she can give him the love he needs to keep his immune system stable. Normally, hatchlings would fare well under the care of any loving changeling mare, but here his mixed heritage works against him.” Zeala gave the foal one last parting glance before focusing on the father. “No. Not just any changeling. Just his mother would be able to stop his failing health. As I was unsure the course to best help your little family, as I mentioned, I consulted the old writings. The Essence of Emotion offers a chance to at least stabilize Reign Cloud’s condition.”

“How can you be sure of the results?” asked Cadence. “And how old is that...potion of yours? Are you sure it’s safe?” Her mind wandered to the dark implications of what the vial did to changelings.

“May I have that back?” Zeala asked Shining. Wordlessly he handed back the vial of essence. “Thank you.” She cleared her throat. “To answer your question, this was made...let’s see, a thousand years...add King Sombra’s rule, the lineage of the royal family before him… I’d wager this essence was made seventeen hundred years ago, during the reign of the last changeling High Queen.”

“It must be rare,” noted the nanny. Her eyes narrowed dangerously, fully distrustful of the changeling priestess.

“It is. Very rare. To my knowledge, only ten vials were ever made. King Sombra drank one himself to augment his magic. It failed, of course, but it did wonders to his health.”

“So, what can it do for Reign?”

She smiled at Cadence as the alicorn pressed her shoulder into Shining Armor’s, nuzzling him lightly. “One drop at each zenith of the full moon, every cycle for ten years will keep his health from failing. There is only one mention of what it does to a Halfling, and it is to keep them stable. It will do until his mother returns for him, or your scholars find a more permanent cure for him. Ten years for you to find a way to save your son, Shining Armor.”

“So it’s not an actual cure,” stated Cadence in her regal tone. “It’s a stopgap.”

“It’s better than nothing,” muttered her husband as he found his eyes upon his son. What could he do? How could he save his son? None of the doctors had found anything to this point. “But how can we trust you, Zeala? What is your price?”

“Ah, yes,” the changeling said with sigh. “You don't have to trust me, only in the results. Do nothing and your child dies, use the essence and he lives. This will prove my word. There is no point for me to lie, as for the price....”

The parents shared a look before Cadence cleared her throat. “Name them.”

“You need an advisor on changeling affairs. I should like to fill that position as a step towards strengthening ties between our races. No doubt many of my brothers and sisters still regard ponies as prey.” The priestess flicked her tail and gave a light toss of her mane. “I would like to continue to establish a common ground between changelings and ponies.”

“You want my ear,” guessed Cadence as she narrowed her eyes.

“And you need mine,” countered Zeala. “The common changeling doesn’t give two wits about a Halfling, but I can keep my ears towards the machinations of the Royal caste. I am privy to information which can prevent unwanted visitations with murderous intent in mind. I can ask my followers to spread the word to keep an eye out for those things you ponies are never aware of. They are your enemies, the Royals. Just as they hunt for the fallen queen, they will attempt to slay that very child which drew my blood. I would be remiss of my duties if I could not protect one hatchling from those who are bloodthirsty.”

“Of course,” Shining sighed. “Of course, that’s not the only thing you want, is it?”

“Ah, you read me very well,” chuckled Zeala humorlessly. “Are you sure you aren’t part changeling yourself?” She could feel his emotions shifting like a changing breeze. “Just one small, insignificant thing, really.”

“What is it?” asked Cadence urgently.

“In good time. For now, let us see how well the potion works. I’m confident it will do as I think it will, but I’ll need your magic to help. I can instruct you on what needs to be done, but let’s make sure your son is stable. It won’t reverse what’s happened to him, as I said. You will have the time I promise to find the proper cure. Ten years. Once the vial is empty, his deterioration will continue.” Zeala looked expectantly at the husband and wife, holding her breath.

Shining considered what the doctors and experts had said. Dozens of them had come up with nothing to help his son. The best they could do was give Reign medicine for his symptoms. “Can you guarantee what you claim?” he demanded.

“Reign should be happy,” insisted Cadence. “He has the right to a happy life, a healthy life.”

The priestess drew herself up proudly. “I swear by the Divine Emotions, it will do as I say it will, not more and no less. It will give you ten years to find a cure for your son.”

“I don’t like it,” proclaimed Aerial Glow. “She’s setting up the both of you! Princess Cadence, please, don’t do it! If she were a true selfless being, she’d do this without compensation and do it out of mercy!”

“Changelings are fleeing conflict,” responded Zeala evenly. “Some will come here, seeking refuge. The Crystal Heart will draw them to this city. They must learn the rules of living in peace with other races. They must learn to be harmonious with what they would normally consider prey. I would be in a position that benefits the rulers of this nation, nursemaid.” Her eyes flared at the nanny, who simply returned the look with one of her own.

“Enough, both of you!” grunted Shining. The stallion had already made up his mind. Nothing else to this point had worked. “That vial doesn’t look like it would last six months, much less ten years.”

“It’s an enchanted vial made from a resin only a Royal can produce,” explained Zeala reverently, placing a hoof to her chest. ”What it contains is not measured in weight or volume, but in time. This was made by a procedure forgotten by modern changelings. Even I am at a loss in my attempts to rediscover old magic techniques.” She brightened suddenly. “Ah! I will even add in any magical rediscoveries of changeling spells and techniques I unearth for the next ten years. All that has been rediscovered until now will be opened to you. I will personally translate our knowledge, both known and that which is yet to be discovered.”

“Isn’t that forbidden?” asked Cadence.

“I’m sure the Divines won’t mind if I bend a few rules for the sake of a foal.” The changeling flashed an all-too warm grin. “Are we agreed?”

“Cadence?” Shining asked his wife, his eyes pleading. Try as he might, the normally confident stallion needed her approval.

The princess knitted her brows together, her demeanor that of a ruler. She might have been a statue as she mulled over the proposal, playing numerous scenarios through her mind. Of course, she already had come to a decision. “With a foal’s life at stake, what other option do I have? Do we have? I find the terms acceptable. We are in agreement, Zeala. Do not make me regret this decision.”

Zeala gave a very low curtsey. “My word is my oath and i do not take them lightly, princess.” When she looked up, her smile threatened to split her face in half, showing her fangs.

It was unsettling to say the least.

Author's Note

For some reaon, this chapter was a challenge to think through. Still, it was enjoyable. I hope you guys find it fun to read. As always, questions and comments welcome!

Editor's Notes
Iakovl: I like Wilda, nice big changling mare, hope to see more of her.
As for the rest, can't wait to see what will be Zealas second condition... this going to be glorious, hope you enjoy it as I am.

6. Changelings

Edited by iakovl and Magic Man

Wilda was large, even for a changeling mare, more so in girth and in her flanks than anywhere else. Her pale lavender mane and tail was always kept in tight buns when she slept and let down during the day until it was time for bed. She had a notched ear from a fight long ago, in her wilder days as a nymph trying too hard to be an adult. Her brood of seven (soon to be eight) hatchlings and her flower shop kept her busy. Twelve years of laying eggs, fleeing her homeland, purchasing the store and running it, and going through three husbands in the process made her a harder mare, if anything. She was gentle to the young ones of all species she came across, as it was in her nature to give them the benefit of being born with brain damage, figuratively speaking.

All children had it, she learned through experience. Sometimes they grew out of it as they matured and even made something of themselves, unlike the previous two mates she had the misfortune of being with before her third husband came along.

The third one had promise; he was not lazy and actually contributed to the family. The last two eggs were his. Yamir worked nightshifts in the crystal mines as a forepony. Yamir was easily younger than she was, a stallion always eager to please his wife, even if that meant bonding with her unruly offspring. In return, Wilda doted over him almost as much as she doted over her youngest. He was a good provider.

Having the largest family in the changeling community of the Crystal City started a good-natured joke she was a queen of her own little hive. ‘Queen’ Wilda was proud of the title, though she never publicly referred to herself as one. A community leader as well as mother and businessling, Wilda was often looked up to when her neighbors had squabbles or a certain problem needed to be addressed. She was loud, proud and unafraid of anything, after raising 7 nymphs nothing could scare her.

Behind her back, it was joked she had eaten her previous two husbands. She heard the rumors, of course, for it was a small community. Wilda did nothing to discourage it, as it gave her a fearsome reputation. The truth was, she had rotten luck with husbands; the first one being a deadbeat while the other one died during the recent fall of the queen. How did that saying go? The third time's the charm?

Once, she must have been trained for combat, though her egg laying days had made her a bit more plump in certain places. Wilda could still turn heads after so many years, even when carrying some of her younger children on her back while shopping in the market. Proud of her heritage, she held herself appropriately and brooked no foolishness. Shrewd in her dealings and quicker with a sale, Wilda was respected by her peers, even if that respect was touched by envy. When her old home fell to the ravages of civil strife, she packed up her family and followed her instincts north. It brought her to the Crystal Empire and there she found herself a home and her current husband. For a female changeling, she was considered quite handsome and Yamir considered himself quite lucky indeed to be able to marry such a mare!

It was a particular morning as she prepared to open her little shop when her day was ruined before the sun could even rise. Her husband had already left for work the previous evening, leaving her eldest son to take out the trash. She was working on her first cup of morning coffee and the always endless yawns stretching her muzzle as she read the morning paper. Her harlequin eyes found the front page screaming the adopted prince’s rumored failing health:

REIGN FALLING: PRINCE BLUEBLOOD DEMANDS INVESTIGATION

Wilda frowned darkly, crumpling up the paper with disgust. That was the wrong paper. Her paperpony delivered for two different papers and on occasion delivered the wrong one to the wrong address. This particular edition was from the Daily Equestrian, a nice name for a not-so-nice fringe paper. It was owned by one of the nobles in Canterlot. Since the announcement of the adoption of Prince Reign Cloud six months ago, the chief editor seemed to make it a point to print attacks on the ‘Half Breed Bastard’ as if the small, helpless foal was responsible for the Canterlot invasion a couple of years ago.

It seemed some of the ponies who came from Equestria held grudges against any changeling. Wilda had never had a problem personally from the Crystal ponies, but those who emigrated from the home nation of the three tribes tended to have some form of hostility towards her and her species. It wasn’t rampant and the acts of prejudice were few and far between. Wilda rolled her eyes, finding it difficult to picture herbivores hunting predators. Papers like the Daily Equestrian, however, made outrageous demands on curtailing changeling freedoms. Some ponies simply had to use local media to voice their personal distastes.

The editor had apparently decided to declare a personal vendetta against a hatchling! Of course, every common changeling and pony who knew anything about the paper knew the editor channeled the snobbish unicorn’s will to print. Blueblood was aiming at a foal.

A foal!

“Coward,” she muttered, remembering the day she met the princess. Cadence was a very kind pony and did not discriminate against any species. How proudly she showed off Reign Cloud as though she had birthed him herself! The princess was very curious and respectful, asking Wilda many questions about changelings in general. Specifically her queries focuses on how to raise nymphs as there were notable differences from ponys. Though the legends regarding Halfling scared the wits out of the Nobles, Wilda could care less about the old stories. Reign was a foal! A helpless, cute little nymph who needed a loving mother.

He had plenty of both, but it all seemed for naught.

Something was wrong at the palace; something amiss. Despite the joy shared by the Princess and the Prince Consort, a dark cloud gathering over the family. Whispers drifted from the castle staff and became rumors and gossip among the citizens and as such spread like wildfire. Nopony or noling would dare say something beyond a harsh whisper. It was simply too awful to even speculate upon. Imagine if such words were uttered conversationally, Princess Cadence would burst into tears and Prince Shining Armor would be out and about, seeking the head of the one who would dare suggest the unthinkable!

“Poor little thing,” she whispered, picking up the paper she liked. The Imperial Word was a leftover from Sombra’s reign, formerly spouting his propaganda and edicts. Now it was the common paper for the common citizen. It steered away from sensationalism and concentrated on factual articles. Not surprisingly, the main headline also had to do with Prince Shining Armor’s neverending bid to bring a hoofball team to the city.

IMPERIAL COUNCIL AT ODDS WITH HOOFBALL PROPOSAL

Well, that news was a bit more relevant, but the changeling had no interest in sports. Such a waste of time! But, there was an empty stadium left to host nothing but concerts and public gatherings, its full potential unrealized. The business mare within her nodded with sage wisdom the increase of revenue to the Crystal Empire with the addition of a sports franchise.

Sighing to herself, she skipped the articles and went straight for the ads. The shop wouldn’t be open for another three hours, so she perused for deals and good sales, clipping coupons as she went. There was nothing wrong with saving few bits now and then. She hummed to herself tunelessly as one by one her eldest children began to get the others up. It was a domino effect; she would get the oldest up and they in turn would wake up the next one and so on.

The egg didn’t count.

It rested between her hooves. Wilda’s magic moved the pages and lifted her coffee. She was already on her third cup.

Slightly smaller than the round hoofball, it was nearly full sized and the shell was almost solid. She estimated another week or so before it hatched, when it would be the size of a hoofball.

“No more after you,” she said to the egg playfully, rubbing the tip of her hoof at its crown. “I don’t need the neighbors complaining of me having a swarm.” Eight was a good number to stop at. Why eight? Because she didn’t want nine, despite her husband’s protests. Large changeling families were signs of a prosperous house.

The youngest of her hatched children was currently napping against her mother’s belly and just beginning the infamous ‘Terrible Two’s’. Wilda always had her little Trouble and the egg in with her.

“Breakfast, mama?” asked a young voice to her right. Wilda smiled briefly before turning a stern eye to the owner of the voice. The twelve-year old colt looked so much like her first husband: tall in the holed legs with a barrel that would soon fill out into a masculine build mares would find pleasing. Hopefully, that was still years away. Other than that, his eyes were the typically solid blue, his horn a curved little blade in front of his head crest.

Yes, he’ll make a fine warrior when his time comes, if she calls for him. She gave a brief, single shake of her head. No, that’s not for some years. The honor to serve will not be needed yet.

“Have you taken the trash out, Shadow?” It was a common name changeling mothers gave their firstborn, be they male or female. Having a little dark nymph following their mothers ceaselessly made it an easy name to choose.

“I was going to do it after breakfast, mama,” he said.

“Are your brothers and sisters up?” An ear swiveled up as the sound of hooves thumping on the third floor indicated a small army was assembling at it tried to sort itself out up there. There was no arguing, but some sounds of scuffling could be heard. Arguing hatchlings often found themselves in a corner after having The Switch applied to their flanks. Wilda demanded an orderly household and suffered no bickering under her watch.

“Yes, mama.”

“Did you make your bed?” she arched a brow, fixing him a motherly glare.

“Yes, mama,” he replied respectfully.

Wilda leaned over and pecked him on the forehead. “Good boy. Go put the breakfast things on the kitchen table and go downstairs and start getting the shop ready.”

The building was three stories tall and had a basement. The first floor was, of course the shop. The second and third floor housed the family while the basement was assorted storage for the household as well as the flower shop. Located on a corner near one of the city’s many public squares, Wilda’s Florist Flowers stood out as a modest and cozy-looking shop in a place where changelings were still adjusting to the idea of bright and colorful schemes for their shops.

What they considered gaudy, ponies thought of as plain.

The colt nodded and smiled, placing the expected kiss on his mother’s cheek as she proffered it to him. “Do it quickly enough and I’ll let you read the sports page,” she promised with a smirk.

Next to tromp down the stairs was her second eldest, a daughter with her mother’s color hair and her father’s muzzle. Her mane was in pigtails and she half flew, half stomped her way down. The youngest hatchling stirred, glaring at her sister through unhappy and very sleepy eyes. She buzzed her wings and chirped angrily, to which her elder sibling simply ignored as she came up to her mother.

“Good morning, mama,” she said sleepily, her eyes lidded and refusing to fully relinquish sleep. As her older brother did before, she kissed the cheek presented to her.

“Good morning, Flower. Did you help Shadow wake the others?”

“Yes, mama,” she replied.

Wilda’s brood were well behaved before their mother. The remaining four clumped, buzzed, stomped, kicked, grumbled, chirped, and complained their way somewhat quietly down the stairs, each on on the heel of the other. Waking the hatchling would no doubt irritate Mother, as unnecessary noise in the house was considered rude. They ranged from nine to three and came down in descending order according to age. Two more colts, two more fillies. Forming a line, each one came up to their mother and kissed her good morning. She returned the favor with a small, motherly smile.

Yes, they might have been an army in the eyes of the casual observer, but Wilda needed to maintain order over her large family to avoid the chaos of having so many nymphs. She loved each of her children, but foolishness such as petty squabbling was stamped down before seeds of such thoughts could begin to form. Yes, she was a tyrant in her home; a motherly and loving tyrant.

Her methods weren’t perfect, but her children were considered some of the most respectful and well-mannered nymphs in the community. Thus was partly the reason for her queenly reputation among her peers.

“Take your sister,” she commanded, sitting back and smiling down at her sleeping nymph. “and put the egg into the nesting box.” Both were taken with great and loving care. There was a squeak of protest from the youngest hatchling, flailing her hooves. She was shushed by her mother with a stern glare and a soft boop on the end of her muzzle.

“Help get the others ready for school. Prepare real lunches for them this time, Flower! No more candy! I’ll be checking this time.” She sternly glowered at her daughter, who smiled sheepishly.

“Yes, mama.”

Yesterday was so much fun getting notes from the teachers asking why her nymphs were acting like wild monkeys before the inevitable sugar crashes which followed. Wilda was not at all pleased to see the larder empty of sweets. The healthy foods she expected her brood to eat at school remained untouched.

The mare finished her coffee and read a few more articles on the front page before she decided to start looking for the deals. Her husband would be home soon, so she thought it would be nice to have a shopping list ready for him. There would be about an hour of shopping to get in before she opened the shop, so getting everything ready before Yamir came home was currently on the top of the mare’s list of things to do. Then she would let him sleep, she decided.

Her day went more or less as expected; her young ate their breakfast, went to school, those too young for school stayed close to her. Wilda’s husband came home, was fed by his wife, and the remaining family went shopping, the egg held in a pouch all changeling mothers had while incubating.

This kept the egg warm and safe, Wilda could constantly feed love to it while shopping. She could accommodate up to three hatchlings in the pouch as it hung from the middle of her belly. It swayed a bit from side to side, the head of her youngest poking through and watching the world from a viewpoint from between her mother’s forelegs. It was a bother for the mare to walk with a pouch loaded with a foal and an egg, so she used her wings and hovered, the tips of her rear hooves brushing the ground.

The store did moderate business, having just received a fresh shipment of flowers and some gardening tools. Yamir slept through the afternoon, as he often did, and the children came home from school quietly and at the time they were expected to be home. Wilda worked the store, keeping her egg by the cash register while she puttered about her business. She had her regular customers, plenty of repeat business, as well as a lovely white unicorn mare with a mane in lovely curls who inquired about using flowers in fashion. The Equestrian was posh and polite, pleased with the selection Wilda had in her store, even buying some orchids before departing with a smile and a promise to return.

Her children came home from school, babbling and talking cheerfully, glad to be free of the prison that was the education system, at least until tomorrow. Wilda rolled her eyes at some of the exaggerations her children said of what went on there. It was perfectly normal for any foal from any race to see learning as boring, but Wilda had visited the school and was satisfied with the teachers to this point.

How many years had it been? Two? Yes, two years since coming to this little kingdom. Her husband was from this city and was technically a thousand years her senior. Stoic, quiet, and affectionate behind locked doors (he was paranoid of one of the nymphs barging in on their ‘happy time’). Yamir and Wilda were married shortly after she and her family had moved to the Crystal Empire.

It was peaceful here, thankfully. Travelling with seven youngsters of varying temperaments was a trial in itself. A group of survivors from the same village grouped with her. They made it, despite the harrowing moments, found the Crystal Empire, settled down, and were bound and determined to make it a home. It helped that the Crystal ponies were already aware of a small group of changelings already living among them. The ponies were used to the presence of the predators already and were a bit more willing to welcome the newcomers, albeit with caution. She bought the shop, its previous owner one of the victims of the now dead tyrant a thousand years ago.

Playfully swatting the last nymph’s rump with a hoof, she herded her brood up the stairs, warning them as she did every day for them not to wake Yamir. Putting the two oldest in charge, they settled about to homework and chores, depending.

Seeing as it was nearly closing time, the mare went about cleaning up, casting a glance every now and then to the entrance of her shop, hoping for one more customer wanting to part from their bits. As much as Wilda was eager to close up and prepare supper, every little bit helped. Settling to her sweeping, she paused long enough to nuzzle her egg as it perched snugly in its place of honor next to the register. Judging from the lighting of the setting sun cascading into the shop, Wilda thought there was maybe another hour of daylight left.

The door chime rustled softly, they song of crystals catching Wilda’s ears. They swiveled to the front of the store and her eyes followed, muzzle coming up. Automatically, the changeling called out, “Welcome to Wilda’s Flowers! Let me know what—” Her voice died as the tall figure of a hooded priestess filling her vision. “Oh. It’s you.”

“Wilda, it is nice to see you so prosperous,” replied the visitor as she pulled back her hood. “Such a lovely shop! I swear you’ve managed to make a diamond in this rough!” It was Zeala.

“I’m not converting,” Wilda insisted tiredly. “Your little neophytes can’t convince me and neither can you.” She went back to her sweeping.

“Ah, I am not here for that,” came the reply. The priestess admired the colorful arrangements of flowers, slowly taking in the lovely sight. She came back to Wilda. “Your family grows,” Zeala noted as she stepped deeper into the shop, pausing to sniff at a flower. “I absolutely adore the scents in here.” Her eyes went to the egg. “Are you hoping for a male or a female?” she asked, making small talk.

“Four hooves and a smile, I’ll be satisfied,” Wilda said with a soft smirk. “Not here to try and convert me, are you?”

“Not at all. I’ve got a different sort of business proposition for you.”

“Since when is religion a business?” scoffed the larger of the two mares. Wilda was easily twice the size of Zeala. The priestess had no meat on her bones!

Zeala chuckled. “You’d be surprised,” she mused. Speaking up, she levelled her gaze at the big mare and tilted her to one side, “I have come across a foundling, an abandoned egg, to be precise. It hatched some weeks ago.”

“Oh?” Wilda’s interest was piqued.

“Naturally, with the temple under construction, there is no room for us to raise an abandoned nymph. I was wondering if you would be up for it.” Zeala glanced over her shoulder behind her. A hunchbacked changeling waited at the door and began to shuffle in at her unspoken command. A large cloth sling was draped over his shoulder and a bundle hung from his chest, held carefully by a foreleg. “Igor has been taking care of her until we can find a proper home for her.”

“I hardly have room for ano—” interjected Wilda as her eyes went round.

Zeala held up a hoof. “You will be compensated. I am not asking for your charity. This child is spoken for, and only needs to be raised until she is of age to be given over to Prince Reign Cloud as his servant.”

“You invoke Servus Defensor?” Wilda asked in a hushed tone. Her mind raced to figure out what that meant. Everything came to a sudden halt as she found her answer with in the span of two breaths. “Reign Cloud? A soul bonding?”

“He will need an advisor, a proper changeling servant. I have heard of how you raise your children. I approve of the results. I want Maggie to be the same way.”

“Maggie?” Wilda repeated the question. “That’s her name?” She had her suspicions.

“You doubt me? Igor, show her!” Zeala slid to one side as the hunchbacked changeling moved forward, gently producing from his pouch a little black ball of adorableness. Bright green eyes met Wilda’s and there was a moment of uncertainty from the little one. She looked up at Zeala and chirped, cringing away from Wilda and into Igor’s chest.

Hearing about the nymph was one thing. Seeing it with her own eyes made Wilda melt a little. “Oh, oh!” she cooed, moving involuntarily closer. “She’s adorable!” Her eyes were locked and she was in moment looming over Igor. The poor stallion gulped and held out the hatchling like a worshipper presenting a living sacrifice to his ever-hungry goddess.

Gently she took the scared little nymph, cooing at her gently as she gathered Maggie into her hooves, her rump having fallen to the floor. The hatchling squirmed, trying to get a look into the eyes of the mare, wondering if she was to be eaten. Her little nostrils flared, her toothless mouth opened in a hiss as her ears splayed back against her scalp.

“You’ll be a feisty one,” Wilda noted with a smile. Raising her chin, she fixed Zeala a studious glance. “Fostership?” She cuddled the little one.

“Indeed,” Zeala said. “I was able to get a concession from Princess Cadence in exchange for services rendered. I’ve already gotten her ear and the other thing I asked of her will be this little one” —she indicated Maggie with a nod— “when she is old enough. Until then, I would ask you to forge the core of her being. I want a strong child. A happy child. She must be able to make decisions to best suit the prince. He’ll need all the help he can get.”

“Who is the hatchling’s mother?” Wilda asked.

The priestess sighed through a thin smile. “A driven mare who allowed a moment of foolishness to impede her path to greatness. The father is hardly in a position to raise the little one and my temple simply cannot do it. Will you?” Zeala cocked a brow and pursed her lips patiently as she waited for an answer. “We feel this is the best way to deal with unwanted younglings. Find homes for them instead of taking them into an unfinished and unsafe environment where they would be underhoof and a distraction to the workers.”

“I don’t know…” Wilda took the tip of her hoof and stroked the pale green mane of the filly in her grasp.

“Would three thousand bits a month convince you? It will be all legal and the proposal will be forwarded to the Crystal Council for approval. I understand Princess Cadence is keen on ensuring all young ones grow up in a happy home. All foster families are compensated, so long as the ones under their care are allowed to be inspected without notice at any given time, should you agree.”

Wilda inhaled deeply. Three thousand bits a month! She could expand the store! Open a second one! Hire someling so she could have more time with her family! Could she handle nine nymphs after her egg hatched? Her husband would be thrilled. Maybe hurt the ninth hatchling wasn’t his, but thrilled in the long run. Eh, what he wanted paled in comparison to the needs of the family. The family was what was important and Wilda knew what the family needed. All Yamir had to do was play the part of the proud papa and convince his wife he was indeed proud of his family and would be willing to go to any lengths to prove it.

Which meant he was bound to run pointless errands just so Wilda could prove her point of who made the final decisions in the house.

“Can we discuss this over tea?” she asked, knowing if she didn’t bring the subject up to Yamir, he would have a conniption. “My husband must be apprised of this development.”

“Of course.” Zeala gave a brief nod and offered a half smile. “I trust he is a good provider for your family?” she asked conversationally.

“Well enough,” replied the florist neutrally.

Zeala nodded, then raised her voice slightly. “Igor, go wait outside for me. I won’t be long.” She smiled at Wilda, who returned it, if a bit forcibly.

The hunchback simply turned on his back hoof and departed quietly. He had not been invited for tea and would not doubt be a distraction once the nymphs laid eyes upon him. Crippled changelings were rare as they were often given a merciful death rather than living a life with a broken body.

“Would you be so kind as to turn the sign?” Wilda called out to the stallion. He paused in mid stride, peering back over his shoulder, one ear up, the other splayed out in confusion. “The sign in the window of the door,” she pressed helpfully, lobbing a hoof at the entrance. “Yes, that’s the one. Just turn it...yes, there you go! Thank you!”

Releasing the sign with the words CLOSED facing out into the street, Igor nodded mutely and shuffled outside. He looked none too happy.

Gathering up her egg, she stuffed it in her pouch, then popped the hatchling in with it until her belly hung past her knees. Inside, the squirming form of the nymph adjusted herself, finding the strange place oddly comforting, the muscles within the pouch pressing her gently and coaxing her to sleep. It felt nice to carry a hatchling. Maggie popped her head out of the entrance and sleepily stared about, snuggling into the coziness of her unexpected emplacement. A purr of contentment escaped her lips and she yawned mightily.

Satisfied, Wilda beckoned the priestess to follow and hovered on her wings, buzzing up the stairs and hearing the other mare follow close behind her.

“Put the kettle on,” she announced; which was her way of telling her brood to straighten up the dining room, pick up their toys and place them in their rooms, put the dishes away, do a quick check for anything out of place and put it in place. The youngest of the brood was cleaned up and whisked away to her crib and the others examined each other to make sure noling was too dirty. Wilda did so detest dirty little faces.

Oh, and someling had to go wake up Father. Which meant Shadow, as he was the eldest. The thumping sounds of pounding hooves moving rapidly and the clank and clinking of things being set about, set down, put up, or put away lasted all of thirty seconds. Then there was another stampeding of hooves thundered to the living room, accompanied by the sounds of buzzing wings, like a swarm of giant bees. Then, it was as still as a crypt, save for the tick-tock of the cuckoo clock in the living room.

The dining table was freshly wiped off with something that left a faint scent of potpourri to linger. Wilda paused at the doorway for a scant second, eyeing everything and finding nothing amiss. There was even a plate of cookies set on the table, along with a pair of plates for her and her guest. Her left eye twitched when she noticed a half-eaten cookie left carelessly on the plate. A faint trail of crumbs led to a pair of eyes and a single horn poking up from the other side of the table, staring at Wilda with huge, fearful eyes.

Caught, red-hoofed.

“Lily,” she reprimanded, vocalizing her disappointment in two syllables. There was impending doom and gloom behind that voice, and the filly to whom she was speaking to managed to look even more mournful. “Do you have homework?” she asked, shifting to a more gentle tone.

Lily nodded.

“Have you finished it?”

Lily shook her head, the tresses of her pale blue mane bouncing as she did so.

“Take the last half of your cookie and go to your room. Finish your homework and wait there until I call you. Understand?”

The five-year-old nodded, a singular holed foreleg snaking across the table from the chair she had been sitting on and snatching up the other half of her ill-gotten treat. The changeling then dropped to the floor and scampered off, half buzzing and half bolting on all four hooves.

Wilda sighed. “My apologies,” she offered, turning to Zeala. “My brood do like to test my resolve at times.” She flashed a fanged smile, almost daring the other mare to say something derogatory in regards to her offspring.

Changelings mothers were protective of their naughty children.

The mother gave the priestess a seat. “Rose!” she called. “Come and take the egg from me!” Her eldest daughter appeared even as Wilda popped the egg from her pouch, maneuvering it around the sleeping nymph. It took some manipulation of muscles as well as her lit horn. A weak protest squawked from Maggie, but she went back to sleep. The girl took it lovingly and beamed up at her mother.

“Papa’s coming, Mama,” she told her as she turned to leave.

“Thank you, my dear”

“I’ll bring the tea for you when the kettle boils.”

“Very good, my dear.” She bent over and gave her daughter a nuzzle before shooing her away.

A stallion showed up in the dining room, fighting a yawn as he blinked through bleary eyes. “A guest?” Yamir asked, scrunching his muzzle as he adjusted his wings. He was a thin changeling with a narrow dorsal spike on his head to match. His chitin was slightly darker than his wife’s, his solid violet eyes immediately spotting the sleeping hatchling. For such a small male, he had a lot of muscle mass from working in the crystal mines. “Oh, Priestess Zeala! What an unexpected surprise!” He bowed as soon as he recognized her.

“Stop fawning in the dining room!” Wilda sighed, yanking her husband up by an ear. “Sit down to tea. Zeala has a proposition for us.” Another magical tug and she hauled him to a chair, the wide-eyed male suddenly very much awake.

“But, dinner,” he whined, his stomach growling audibly.

“Hold her.” Maggie was thrust into his hooves. Yamir nearly toppled backwards and fought to keep his balance while not dropping the suddenly awake and staring nymph. “Don’t drop her! Don’t make any sudden sounds or moves! STOP WOBBLING IN YOUR SEAT!”

He buzzed his wings to stay upright and steady himself, his wide stare locked on the little thing staring up at him. Her nostrils flared as she sniffed, eyes slowly blinking. “What is this?” Yamir asked his wife.

“It’s a nymph, you dummy. Her name is Maggie. We’re fostering her.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but only found a future of death and misery in the eyes of his beloved wife if he chose to answer poorly. “Hooray?” he offered helplessly. Maggie seemed to sense his discomfort and patted one of the hooves holding her reassuringly.

Wilda smiled. “Good boy.” She turned to Zeala. “Let’s have tea while we go over the details.”

In the kitchen, the kettle began to whistle shrilly.

Zeala had been followed. Shatterback did not trust her, as his queen stated the same weeks ago. In the weeks since settling in as the prince’s shadowy protector, he had managed to slip into the position of nanny, his disguise perfect, the background for it impeccable. There were enough changelings who served the queen here to serve as additional eyes and ears. He was the best his queen had and she ordered him to watch over her son and keep him safe.

Worry gnawed at him as the thought he had failed her presented itself to the forefront of his thoughts constantly. Right in front of him, she had taken what control he had and had it placed as neat as could be in her hooves! He protested, but could not do too much to expose himself and compromise his mission. Shatterback had felt no direct antagonism at his queen’s beloved Shadow, but the Essence could not be good. Even he had never heard of it.

He would have to inquire his queen. She might know something considering her very long lifespan. The main concern was the prince’s safety. He was alive, his failing health stabilized. Shatterback had no idea how it was possible. Even the queen would not have expected such a turn of events, falling then rising in the prince’s favor.

What was that scheming witch Zeala up to? Shatterback had followed her and her flunky, mindful to stay out of sight of the ponies preparing for the coming night. An invisibility spell kept him hidden and instinct kept him in the shadows wherever they could be found. Slowly across the city lamps lining the streets were lit and windows glowed from within homes. He found a nook on the roof of a house and settled there to observe and maybe learn a bit more about Zeala for himself.

Seeing the hatchling she brought with her to the florist shop confused him. Why?

Reign Cloud’s protector watched the hunchback changeling waiting outside the door, who ignored the passers bye on the street. He wasn’t much of a changeling to look at; crippled, unable to fly due to his condition, small, and unassuming. To the pair of eyes watching intently, there was the movement of lips as the changeling seemed to mutter to himself, staring at the cobblestone street distantly.

The sun set, the moon rose. Shatterback moved nary a twitch of muscle, his eyes glued to the front door of the flower shop. The hunchback below moved little, sitting in a slumped position and letting his ears swivel about, listening.

It was tiring. It was boring. Princess Cadence had given the nanny the day off so she could bond with her adopted colt. Shatterback really thought she and her husband should have learned her lesson by now concerning changelings.

The hour grew late and growing colder by the time the front door opened. The plump mare dwarfing Zeala escorted the priestess out, her pouch distended. A brood mother? They were remarkably rare, Shatterback remembered. Extremely fertile changeling mares with a near queen-like stature while being of the Worker caste. This one was an impressive mare indeed!

A small head was poking from the pouch from beneath the mare’s undercarriage, snoozing as the adults spoke quietly to each other. The large mare was none too pleased with Zeala, who grinned from ear to ear as she departed. As she turned to leave, Shatterback could have sworn she glanced at him, an eye flashing.

No, a mistake. She did not see him.

The two departed up the street, going beneath the lamp posts, the smaller stallion following the tall and lanky mare. Both had their hoods up and they spoke to each other, their voices too low to make out. Shatterback broke from his immobile watch and followed them along the rooftops, casting a silence spell upon his wings just as he took to the air. His movement broke the invisibility spell, but it was no longer needed. The pair of changelings below and in front of him seemed oblivious to the world around them.

They were returning to the temple grounds.

Suddenly, the changeling felt the presence of hostility around him, familiar. They reminded him of the same hostility the night the queen brought her son to the Crystal City.

The assassins had returned.

Three dropped around him, one on each side and another behind him. In front of him emerged a dark mare, a Noble. She was not as large as his queen, but her eyes glowed with hellish glee. The night concealed much of her features, but they were dark, befitting a shadowy killer. Lightly she landed in front of him, on top of the roof of one of the larger buildings.

“Your queen is gone, warrior,” she told him in a harsh whisper. “You are abandoned to protect a thing taken in by prey.”

Shatterback said nothing, but splayed his hooves in an aggressive posture and lowering his horn. His eyes darted to and fro, his ears focusing on the locations of the other three assassins.

The mare grinned at him, keeping a safe distance. “You are formidable. You killed three of my finest slayers, Praetorian. I am impressed. Your queen chose her warriors well. Too bad you are tied to your precious queen.” She licked her lips hungrily, though it was not from lust.

“Who are you?” demanded Shatterback curtly.

“Your end.” She nodded and the three changelings around the warrior sprang forward silently, save for their buzzing wings.

The battle was a spasm of movement, blurred and unseen by the naked eye. Shatterback dodged the first few blows, blocked the last pair and countered against his foes. The mare watched, studying him closely. For twenty seconds, she examined the fighting as it unfolded in an eerie silence compounded by grunts and hisses. Green blood flecked as hoof blows cracked through chitin and soft flesh, causing light wounds. The black ball of fury took to the air, split into four forms, then collapsed again.

Changeling blood rained on the streets below.

One of the figures faltered after receiving a seemingly glancing blow, fluttering down in pain, a leg dangling uselessly. Shatterback darted down after breaking free, passing by the falling assassin and slashing with his wicked horn. A throat was torn and the dying changeling gurgled, now dropping like a stone as he thrashed in his death throes. Before it could go far, the warrior gripped it with his magic and swung the twitching body as hard as he could at his nearest pursuer. There was a sickening crunch, mostly from the inert form and a pained grunt followed.

Two forms now fell from the skies.

Shatterback charged at the next closest one, who had been charging his own horn. Green fire formed, streaked at him. The warrior dodged, barely missed being hit. The two collided, fangs and hooves flashing and slashing. The trailing assassin joined the fray. The battle fell into one of the back alleys. The room to maneuver shrank rapidly, affecting the assassins more so than the lone fighter.

The crystal walls were cold to the touch as they insulated the homes and buildings. They were unforgiving to flesh and chitin as they were slammed into them again and again. Green blood smeared against the smooth surfaces, a trash can was knocked over as the trio spilled over it. One of the forms tried to crawl away, its insides bleeding.

Shatterback was up, partially into the street. A pair of ponies cried out in shock as he rose to his hooves, his face a bloody mess. One of his fangs was broken off and several bruises were forming. His chitin was cracked in places, his natural armor barely holding together. They ran off, crying out for the guards. The warrior ignored them as his remaining opponent emerged from the shadows warily, every bit as worn as torn as he.

Suddenly, there was an explosion of pain between his ears. His body stiffened for a moment, his eyes wide with shock and pain. Then, he went limp, slumping to one side as he hissed.

The mare hovered behind him, the tip of her horn glowing. She gave her last assassin a growl and he fell back into the shadows, leaving his companion to die. The mare snorted, examined Shatterback before lifting a hoof. Steadily she held it, measuring coolly before sending it down with all her might, crushing his skull. She snorted, gave her dying companion a sneer of disgust. Then, she shimmered and disappeared into the shadows.

There was no nanny to resume her duties the next morning.

A mother never found out the web being made around her son.

A son would grow in a world where he could do little.

Author's Note

Note from the Editors:

iakovl: HAIL QUEEN WILDA, so many epic changling mares people... this one even has her own little swarm.

I enjoyed writing this chapter immensely as I introduce the last two key players to our story: Wilda and Maggie. I needed to show not all changelings are looking for selfish satisfactions in pursuit of power, but are just as regular as ponies, if a bit more savage by nature.

As for the reference to brain damage...Bill Cosby has a profound effect on my warped sense of humor.

Not all changeling families are large. Brood mothers like Wilda are few, as it takes a lot of love to grow an egg and hatch it. Cities like the Crystal Empire's lone metropolis provides such love in vast quantities just by living within the city limits.

The Switch is a big willow branch, stiff, yet pliable, and very effective for stern mothers who take to switches for discipline.

As always, feel free to leave your comments and questions! I read all of them, even if I don't respond to all.

I hope you enjoy this chapter, too.

7. Colt and Filly

Edited by shadow blades, iakovl, and Magic Man

The earliest memories Reign Cloud could recall would be when he was three years old, blowing out three candles on his birthday cake with great enthusiasm. His mother and father helped, of course, and there was a great deal of laughter and love. It was also the first time he became aware that the emotions around him as being more than something he fed upon greedily.

Momma Cadence was his world in the early days; he was always with her in one way or another. She would even hold court with him at her hooves, fussing when he was hungry or when the hurt in his body flared up. The princess had to warn her visitors and guest to not get too close to the foal, lest they chance being bitten.

Pappa Shining Armor played with his son every evening after supper, ‘rough housing’ as it were. Reign delighted in this activity, nipping at his father and throwing playful hisses and growls no pony colt was even capable of. It was unnerving at first for Shining (his wife laughed uproariously the first time Reign hissed at him), but he got used to it. Soon he began to emulate his son and the two played in the middle of the family room while Cadence looked on.

The years rolled on and Reign came to know the most important ponies in his life. He already knew his mother and father, but there was also the great white mare Celestia and her sister, Luna (or ‘Woona’, as Reign came to pronounce her name). There were his grandparents—Twilight Velvet and Night Light—who spoiled him every time they paid a visit. Aunt Twilight was always inspecting him closely, between raspberries and tickles, gentle in her examinations as she both studied and played with the colt.

On his fifth birthday, Reign Cloud was presented with a personal servant, much to the shock of Cadence and Shining. As a newly minted five-year-old, he had no idea what to make of it. The biggest mare he had ever seen brought a filly his age and presented her to his parents, invoking an ancient changeling tradition of bonding between a Worker and a Royal. Zeala was there, too and spoke to his mother and father. Reign did not like Zeala. A changeling filly was set in front of Reign. He was told her name was Maggie. As Zeala and Wilda explained the girl to the parents, the two foals were drawn to each other almost immediately. The two locked eyes and both felt a mental click in the back of their minds. What was visible to onlookers was bolts of what looked like white lightning arcing between the two foals as they simply stared into each other’s souls.

Wilda looked on proudly, tears of joy streaming down her face as Cadence and Shining Armor panicked. What had just happened?

Zeala smiled and simply announced her second request to Cadence was fulfilled. She then uttered some strange words in blessing over the colt and the filly still staring at each other, bade the adults present a good day, and departed with no further word. Reign only saw her on the nights she gave him his nasty medicine.

This little fact never did endear the priestess to the colt.

As the years rolled on, Reign Cloud’s illness was investigated to the fullest. Zeala grudgingly gave a few drops of her Essence of Emotion. Twilight was the first to receive a drop of the substance. She confirmed it was indeed very old and primal magic. She theorized the Essence might even have ties to the origins of all magic, though she had far too little of a sample to work with. As much as she was thrilled to have something possibly older in origin than Celestia, the young alicorn fought to stay focused in discovering the secrets of the Essence.

Research was painfully slow.

Unaware of what his aunt and other scientists were undertaking, Reign’s life was kept as normal as possible, given his precarious health condition.

Changeling violence upon other changelings in the Crystal Empire was infrequent and whispers of a shadow war of sorts could be heard. It would never involved the old changelings held over from Sombra’s days. Zeala kept a short leash on her changelings and actually organized a security detail to report directly to the Prince Consort. This was stemmed from the night of violence less than three days after her fateful agreement with Reign Cloud’s parents.

Unsurprisingly, he and Maggie grew close, though the colt went through countless governesses and nannies He bit half of them, despite the best efforts of his parents to admonish. Reign was likewise aggressive towards the castle staff and learned at an early age guard armor does not yield to fangs. As he came to know the staff and the guards, he tried to bite less (Cadence patiently corrected his social gaffs, albeit with a twitching brow), but instead hissed a lot. Changeling foals, it was discovered, were inclined to be distrustful towards those who did not smell like mother, father, or family. On top of that, he developed a bit of a mean streak. This would later be attributed to the constant pain throbbing through his little body.

Shining Armor still worked diligently to get his beloved hoofball brought to the Crystal ponies and it became a labor of love. Reign was drawn in and soon became his father’s biggest supporter. It gave him something fun to do with his father and the two would even spend some days kicking a hoofball between each other. The bond they shared could only be had between father and son was cemented with the fanatical love for a sport known simply as The Beautiful Game.

The years rolled on...

The changeling filly bounced along, her dark gray chitin gleaming in the sunlight every time she passed one of the great windows. There was always a happy gleam in her deep blue harlequin eyes, today being no exception. Her mane was a pale, sea green color, flaring out in thick, wild layers over her neck and shoulders. They bounced, seemingly with a life of their own with each movement she made. Her wings buzzed excitedly, despite being buried under an avalanche of locks. An aura of happiness always seemed to crackle about; nothing seemed to bother her. The filly continued to bounce down the hallway, towards a part of the palace few dared to go. On her chitin-covered back lay a covered tray. It was lunchtime, and she hummed happily as she made her way towards her destination. The filly passed a maid who smiled and greeted her.

“Going into the lair?” the maid joked with a wry grin.

“Yep!” chirped the changeling. “Gotta feed the beast!”

The mare laughed and rolled her eyes. “You’re the only one he won’t bite!”

“That’s because I’m not afraid to bite back!” replied the little filly, flashing her fangs.

She passed by a pair of guards doing their rounds. They paid her no mind and she skipped around them, smiling all the same. For a dark little creature, she somehow managed to be a ray of sunshine.

The door she stopped at was no different than the others; opulent and gilded with gold as the former ruler had splurged on himself. Beyond lay a room where a certain brooding thing lay, a small living natural disaster that was predictable with his moods. Life had dealt him a poor hand, perhaps even cheated him, and he resented it.

His raspy voice growled when she pushed open the door with a hoof. It was never locked. Princess Cadence forbade locks on his door. “Lunch!” Maggie sang out as she bounded effortlessly into the depths of the darkened room. She stopped on a spot on the floor she knew well, looking down and making a point to stand dead smack in the circle beneath her hooves.

He knew why she was here.

Her eyes adjusted quickly, noting the drapes were pulled, denying the sun from sending her rays inside. The room was not surprisingly clean. An enchantment constantly dusted the room and kept the atmosphere scrubbed free of unwanted aerial debris. Already, a rush of air swept in behind the filly as the door closed, an enchantment spell sanitizing her wake. Her body tingled as she was given what could be best described as a dry shower. Maggie had to pause and stand on a blue circle in the room. If she were to move past it before the tingling sensation stopped, she would be frozen in place. Princess Cadence had asked Princess Celestia herself to place enchantments on the room. It was said Princess Luna had also lent a hoof with the formidable protection spells. It was considered the most well-defended room in all of the Crystal Empire.

There were bookshelves along the walls line with books thick and thin. Most were older, some were of the latest in magic theory. There was historical works of all the sentient races, the rise and fall of empires, wars won and lost. Reign Cloud loved history and legends. If he was worried about something, he read a book. If he was upset, he read a book. If he brooded —which he did often— Reign read a book. He shut out the world, much as his famous aunt did in her youth before a certain princess told her to go out and discover the Magic of Friendship.

On one wall was a massive map of the world engulfing nearly the full length and width. It was one of the most modern in the world— only a year old. It had been a Hearth’s Warming gift from his mother and father. At certain cities and various locations were large pins, each tagged with a number. Reign had somewhere in his desk a list of names corresponding with the pins. They were places he wanted to visit. Because of his love for history, Reign wanted to actually visit the places and locations where history happened, instead of just reading about them. He wished to experience history first hand, instead of having it metaphorically spoon-fed to him threw his books. Some were cities, some dead, others still thriving. Others were ancient battlefields, famous landmarks, or places of interest to the Halfling. The hours he and Maggie poured over the map, talking excitedly over the trip that had been three years in the planning, and counting. Luckily, the map had a protection spell on it to keep it relatively foal-proof.

However, Reign was not driven by a hunger for knowledge and the desire to know everything about the world. His journeys seemed a pipe dream. His health was of a grave issue. The young colt could not do many things normal colts his age could do. His small body simply refused to stay healthy. It did not help his mother and father were paranoid about letting him outside.

Maggie waited patiently until the magic sanitized her body and released her to enter into Reign’s room. She trotted happily ahead, skipping around the bed while transferring the tray from her back to balance easily on top of her head.

“Lunch time, you grumpy colt!” she called out happily to the gray-yellow figure sitting behind a desk.

A pair of pegasus wings flared for a moment, flashed with green fire, then became leathery thestral wings. They snapped down, then up again, flaring with more magic. Now they were insectoid changeling wings, buzzing with irritation. The head came up, blue eyes narrowing upon her approach and a half sneer curling above his fangs. The frazzled orange mane was somewhat combed back, but gave the youngster who owned them an almost maniacal appearance.

He had been writing for a change, instead of having his nose in a book. “I’m nod hu’gry,” he grunted, a pencil stuck between his lips, which bobbed up and down as he spoke. “Go away.”

“Peanut butter suh-aaaaaaaand-wiches! Cah-ruuuuuuuu-nchy peanut butter,” she sang teasingly, ignoring the dismissal as she threw the tray in front of him. The cover was tossed off in a magical flourish. “Eat it, or I’ll tell your mama you’re being difficult... again. You’ve been ignoring your meals and it’s making her sad.”

He stared at the food now covering his letter to one of his aunts. Reign sighed, dropping the pencil. “You’re a bully,” he rasped, snorting.

“No, I’m your caretaker,” she said, sticking her tongue at him. “I’m meaner than a bully. I’m gotta to keep you out of trouble and keep you healthy. If that means being a bully to get you to eat, then I guess I’m a bully. Eat, or I’ll hold you down and start shoving the sandwiches down your throat.”

He stared at her in horror, reaching for his lunch. “Okay! Okay! I’m eating!” Reign took a sandwich and began to take frantic bites out of it. “Thee? Nom nom nom!”

“Smartflank!” giggled Maggie. “I made it myself,” she went on proudly. “Princess Cadence said I could start making you simple lunches. Is it good? Huh? Is it yummy?”

“It’s just a sandwich!” He said between chews, the mouthful garbling his words to something unintelligible. Reign Cloud nodded for emphasis as he realized her gaze had changed from a happy beaming to a growling glower. As soon as she saw him nodding, she was smiling again.

Angry changelings made scary faces, moreover angry changeling mares.

“When you’re done eating, we’re gonna go outside and get you some sunshine!” she went on, buzzing over his head on her wings. Maggie turned over on her back, keeping her eyes on the colt as he munched reluctantly on his lunch. Gracefully the filly landed on her hooves and drew herself uncomfortably close to Reign.

The prince froze in mid bite, flinching away from the filly, his eyes huge. “Outthide?” he croaked with a mouth full of peanut butter and bread. Reign hissed, sending crumbs bits of food spraying over Maggie’s muzzle.

He knew why she was here.

“You know the rules. One hour a day in the sunshine or else you turn into a mushroom!”

“But…”

“Your mama’s orders!”

“But…”

“I’m bigger and stronger than you, you know,” she reminded him, wriggling her non-existent brows. Maggie flashed her fangs. “I could just drag you out of her like a fresh kill, letting all the guards and maids laugh at you for not doing what you’re told.”

“Maggie…”

“Yes?” she asked sweetly, batting her eyes.

Reign swallowed his food and glared at her. “You’re impossible.”

She shrugged. “I have to be. You’re moody broody, and you like to snap at ponies, and you’re always mad at yourself and you take it out on them and it’s my job to keep you from being a moody broody.” She buzzed her wings and settled back on her haunches. “So there!”

The colt stared at her blankly. As she had spoken, Maggie had edged closer and closer to the colt she was bonded with until her snout touched his. She grinned through her fangs cheerily while he bore his own out of shock. The Halfling snorted, tried to pull away, only to fall out of his seat with a cry. He landed on his back, hooves flailing in the air.

“Maggie!” he squealed.

She took his seat and began to eat the rest of his sandwich. “You were working on your changeling magic, weren’t you?” Maggie asked, not paying attention to the flailing colt on the floor. “You’re getting better, but you need to be careful or else you’ll get tired from tapping into your mana so much! You don’t got the stuff to hold it long. Trying to get stronger at it?”

By then, the colt had righted himself with some semblance of dignity. Reign shrugged. “I guess. I can’t hold anything longer than a few minutes.”

“We’re going outside,” Maggie announced firmly. She looked around. “I’m gonna ask the princess to get rid of your drapes. It looks... scary in here. I dunno. Weird.” The filly shuddered and shook her head. “You should have lots and lots of light in here to chase away your gloomy glumdrops.”

“No,” growled Reign.

“Yes,” she insisted, sniffling once. “You won’t make me cry, Reign! You won’t make me! You can’t. You’re going outside or I’ll drag you out. You’re going to have fun out there, you hear me?” Was she being serious or was this more of her antics?

Reign Cloud fidgeted, slumping his shoulders as he hung his head, staring intently at the floor. He suddenly felt a nuzzle in his neck, up by his ears and along the crest. Eyes widened as he suddenly felt her hot breath as she grabbed a mouthful of mane and began to tug him towards the door.

“C’mon, let’s go!” she said as she began to drag him. Her words were muffled and distorted as they tried two tasks at the same time.

The glum colt simply went along, not exactly resisting... but at the same time not exactly complying. He certainly didn’t want his mother to scold him for not following the prescribed regimen of having an hour a day outside. Of course, it was a bit of a joke considering he was only allowed to go to a heavily guarded garden. It wasn’t far and once he left his room, his mother or father would know immediately. Often one of the two would join him or meet him in the garden. Rarely did both join as they had their duties, but they made it a point to spend time during the day with their son. Sometimes Wilda would come if she had the time to visit her foster daughter. The gigantic changeling loved slobbering the prince with motherly kisses. It made Maggie giggle when she did that.

As soon as he left his room, several things happened: The threshold held a spell to go off when Reign Cloud stepped across it, warning the guards of his movement. Secondly, it warned his mother of his movements by activating an earring she always wore. Thirdly, crossing the threshold placed a tracking spell on Reign. Lastly, there was the sound of bell chimes announcing to all in the castle the prince had left his room. It was all really rather embarrassing.

The prince hated having guards outside his door as it made him feel like a prisoner. As it was, they watched him from afar and never followed too closely. They were just the visible muscle. What was protecting him most effectively was unseen to most eyes.

Maggie was almost always with him and acted as an extra set of hooves. In some ways, she was his nanny. The past ones never lasted very long, not since the mysterious disappearance of Aerial Glow nearly ten years ago. She acted as his helper and was his closest friend. Actually, she was his only friend as his medical condition more or less kept him in a protective bubble. More importantly, she kept the prince in check as his was susceptible to mood swings based on how much pain his body was in on any given day.

On good days, he ached all over. On bad days, he was nauseous, his joints flared, and even the slightest movement brought searing pain. The first two weeks after getting his Essence treatment from Zeala, Reign felt as well as he could. The last two weeks were miserable as the medicine began to wear off. He was almost always bedridden the last few days before the height of the next full moon and he was always short of breath.

Nineteen days until the next full moon, Reign felt about as good as he could, understanding his severe physical limitations. It did not prevent him from feeling bitter at his life as he had always been told without the medicine, his body would betray him and eventually begin to shut down. For almost ten years, he had been living on borrowed time. Reign knew this. He had known for the past two years of his young life.

The effects on his mind wore him down as the hope his parents always spoke of seemed to dwindle in the colt’s eyes. He could not help but feel helpless and as a result, took it out on other ponies. Fortunately, it never got too badly out of hand and Maggie was always there to keep him from nipping at the staff.

Reign Cloud still had a vicious bite.

Most of the castle staff were directed to avoid him unless he was attending public functions when his health permitted it. The prince was simply too eccentric with his personality, it tended to put off the normally gentle-minded Crystal ponies who made up the majority of the castle’s staff. Though they were used to changelings, they weren’t used to the colt who tended to be loud and sometimes obnoxious.

Oddly enough, Reign’s antics endeared him to his adopted subjects. The tale of how he came to be the adopted son of Princess Cadence was the stuff of local legend. Knowing he was sickly, but angry about his condition caused a bit of a swelling of the chest for the locals. They didn’t mind his tantrums. So long as they weren’t in the same room with him during one of his infamous episodes, they were perfectly happy with him.

Besides, he couldn’t use magic and therefore was not the second coming of Sombra, despite some attempted rumors. The Daily Equestrian would on occasion run an article questioning the adoption of an undocumented foal. Somehow, some years back, somepony had gotten their hooves on irrefutable evidence in the form of copied official and sensitive documents revealing the identity of Reign Cloud’s mother. While it cause an uproar in Canterlot, the Crystal Empire simply shrugged and went about its business. The Crystal ponies had not yet been freed from Sombra’s curse during the events of the now infamous wedding.

As the two made their way through the curves and odd architectural design of a castle literally set on stilts, Maggie did almost all of the talking while her smaller counterpart remained silent. All she wanted to talk about was about her family and her mother and father and brothers and sisters and how everyling was getting together in a few days for some sort of changeling ceremony. Well, not exactly just for that. Her oldest brother was graduating from his class and was going to be the first changeling inducted into the Crystal Guard.

“Mama’s so proud of him!” chirped Maggie happily as she skipped circles around Reign.

As usual, he drowned out much of his friend’s babbling, focusing on putting one hoof in front of the other and losing himself in the sounds of his own hoofsteps. He really didn’t mind her talking, but Maggie did tend to open a floodgate of endless chatter once she got going. At least she wasn’t the sort to talk about herself. Maggie found it much more interesting to share her day with the colt, as if she wanted him to see it through her recollection how wonderful a home the Crystal Empire was.

Anything to put him in a good mood.

She had to slow down enough to allow the smaller Reign Cloud keep up without exhausting the prince. Maggie was mindful of her friend’s physical limitations and did what she could to compliment him. Mama Wilda had raised a good foster daughter, instilling a stubborn will within the little filly every bit as unyielding as Reign’s own. She needed every ounce of her will sometimes to keep Reign from doing something stupid, which was often.

Reign had a terrible, terrible temper. At least he was told he had one. Maggie had seen its full-blown force before. It was simply amazing someling so small could blow such a huge top, she once giggled to the prince in the aftermath of one spectacular episode. It was not something that happened often, but when it did…

Reign had once been told by his mother Aunt Celestia and Aunt Luna could feel his anger after one particular episode. The prince was never sure if she was serious or not, as he had no aunt with which to ask for validity. Cadence assured him she could feel it, but that probably had more to do with her being the Alicorn of Love, he was sure of it. Momma had ways of understanding her colt better than even Daddy. This had been some months ago, but he never forgot the disappointment in Mother’s eyes. She expected him to control his emotions, having taken the time to sit with him and explain the positives and negatives of each one.

The colt shook the memory out of his mind, focusing instead on the changeling filly bouncing backwards while at the same time staring him in the face. Her muzzle was practically touching.

“Gah!” He stumbled backward, head jerking as something akin to a frightened whinney escaped from Reign.

“You were daydreaming again, you silly!” she sing-songed, beaming as she bounced in place.

“Stop doing that!” he sniped, ruffling his feathers. Reign examined them, noting Momma was probably going to be cross with his inattentiveness. A primary was sticking out, mocking the prince. He was supposed to preen...

“Ooooh,” Maggie clucked, shaking her head. “The princess isn’t going to like that.” She threw a hoof at his wings. “You haven’t been preening.”

“Are you reading my mind?” he demanded suspiciously.

“No, silly,” she huffed, rolling her eyes. “I’m too old for picture books.”

He opened his mouth to retort, but his brain failed him, leaving the prince to gape at his friend. Reign grumbled, got to his hooves and stormed ahead, scowling.

“Too much?” Maggie asked hastily in his wake. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry, Reigny!” She chased after him. “I didn’t mean it, Reigny!”

He said nothing, grinding his teeth as he plodded along.

“Don’t be mad!” she cried, grabbing him by the tail with her teeth and tugging lightly. “Please?” She didn’t want to ruin the reason why she had come to fetch her prince.

Reign counted backwards from ten, just as his mother had taught him. Cadence had wanted him to control his temper, even having to go through several setbacks in the process. He wasn’t ignoring the filly pleading for forgiveness. Reign was trying to keep his temper under control. He realized Maggie was his best friend and knew sometimes she went a little overboard with her teasing. It had been like this since he had met her five years ago.

He sighed, snorting through his nostrils. Reign up. “I’m not mad.”

She stopped right in front of him, her eyes huge and round. “Really?”

The colt managed a dismissive smile. “Yes, Maggie, it’s fine. I’m not mad, honest.”

Then, she glomped him. “Thankyouthankyouthankyou!” Maggie cried happily.

Beneath the pile of ecstatic changeling filly, Reign groaned. “Kill me now.”

Maggie giggled again, her muzzle pressed against his. “Nope! Not until we get where we need to be!” She got off him and helped the colt to his feet. Reign grunted, the whole time giving her an odd look.

Wait a minute. He knew why she was here. His mind chimed at him the significance of this day, though it didn’t really dawn on him until now. “Is it May the fifteenth?” he asked her suspiciously. “It’s my birthday, isn’t it? Momma and Daddy’s having a surprise party for me in the garden, aren’t they?”

“No Pinkie Pies were used in the planning of this party!” she promised, uttering the name all changelings seemed to speak with a touch of both dread and awe. Though she had never met Pinkamena Diane Pie, Maggie was well aware of the one time the party pony had planned Reign’s eighth birthday party. The changeling filly even kept a picture of the pony in her room, even emulating her to some degree.

He liked her, but even a cautious Pinkie eventually seemed to forget about Reign’s delicate health and had him dancing on the floor. That is, until his body reminded him how easy it was to get overstrained from the effort of partying like it was nine-ninety-nine. The poor colt was bedridden for three days in the aftermath with a very deflated pink earth pony apologizing every chance she could get. Good times.

“As long as it doesn’t suck,” he said as the two resumed their epic journey through the castle. Curiosity flared into the next question. “Who’s coming? It’s not a huge party, is it?”

Maggie nudged him playfully. “I can’t tell you! Besides, I kinda...sorta... accidentally... told you about the surprise party, so I can’t tell you who’s there. Please, please, please look surprised when they yell out ‘surprise’. Can you do that, Reigny? Puh-lease can you do that?”

“Yeah,” he said slowly, arching a brow before narrowing his eyes slightly. “I can do that. Only because you’re my friend.” Reign managed a small but genuine smile, booping the filly on the tip of her muzzle.

“You...you smiled!” she accused with a toothy grin.

“Didn’t mean to,” he quipped with a shrug.

“We must get to that party!” she announced grandly. Maggie hopped behind Reign, placed both hooves on his flanks and began to shove. “Let’s go! Before the warm fuzzies go away! Move it, Reigny! Party, party, party! Secret party! Be surprised!”

Laughing, the prince let his friend shove him like a wheelbarrow missing its wheel. Maggie was stronger than him and he knew resisting her would not end well for him. They ended their journey to a pair of large glass doors leading to the dead center of the Crystal Palace. There, the small palace gardens awaited. Both colt and filly took deep breaths before Maggie shoved them open and dragged her companion with her, even though he was compliant in following.

The pair was greeted by a badly chorused round of ‘SURPRISE!’ from a small group of ponies led by none other than Shining Armor and Cadence. There was a modest cake and a conservative amount of colorful balloons. Thankfully, there seemed to be no clown this year.

Oh, and there were presents.

Author's Note

Part one of a chapter that was origionally huuuuge!

So, here you go...a little insight into Reign Cloud on his tenth birthday! What's your thoughts? What do you think of Maggie? Can you believe it's not butter?

Questions and comments welcome, as always!

8. Surprise Party

Edited by DJ_Neon_Lights (formerly shadow blades), iakovl, and Magic Man.

Reign appeared properly surprised as he always tried to keep his promises he made to his best friend. Now he understood why there had only been one sandwich. One mustn’t spoil his appetite when cake and ice cream awaited!

“Happy birthday, son,” greeted Shining Armor with a broad grin. His horn was aglow and a party hat plopped on Reign’s head with a wink and a release of magic. The big stallion trotted up to his boy and mussed his mane with a hoof. He leaned down and whispered, “You knew, didn’t you?”

Sheepishly, his son grinned back.

“He’s surprised!” Maggie blurted, right in Reign’s other ear. The colt yelped, flinching away from the filly and glaring at her.

“A little louder, Mags,” he complained. “I can still hear out of the other one.”

“The party’s young!” she promised with a wicked little smile.

Shining chuckled. “Enough, you two.” He was very happy Reign had a friend like Maggie, though her magic bond to him felt unnatural. It always had. Five years ago, he had no idea the final favor Zeala wanted was to bond this filly with his son. She had done it so quickly, before either he or his wife could stop her.

The priestess nearly found herself blasted on the spot when she cast the spell, binding Reign Cloud with Maggie. It was a spell, she declared, to bind the filly to the colt as his protector, much as those elite guards were bound to a queen. It ensured loyalty and unquestioning obedience, always looking out for the best interests of the Royal they were bound to. Such a thing horrified the rulers of the Crystal Empire, as it seemed no better than slavery to them.

The changelings viewed it differently, as a Bonding was one of the greatest honors a common changeling could ever have bestowed upon them. Such a gift, Zeala reasoned, would eventually endow Maggie with magic capabilities beyond that of a normal changeling. She would be bigger, faster, and stronger, on par with the average Royal.

Maggie was essentially a bodyguard for life and she made it a point to make sure Reign knew it with every giggle and smile.

This confused the colt greatly.

Confounded by a filly who was both his friend and his nemesis, Reign sniffed the air, his eyes and ears aiding in his impromptu search. Rising to his hooves, he threw a half-hearted grin at his father and trotted into the abyss that was his own birthday party. “Momma, did Aunt Celestia and Aunt Luna come?” he asked Cadence before offering a light nuzzle.

The alicorn sighed. “I’m sorry, but they couldn’t make it, sweetie.” She returned the gesture, following it up with a nudge. “Your Aunt Twilight is here. Come!” A great pink wing unfolded out and gently behind the colt, scooting him onward towards a table set within the heart of one of the most beautiful creations of magic in all of Ponydom.

Though the garden itself was small by the standards expected by the nobility, this was actually one of the few artifacts King Sombra had created before his descent into madness a thousand years ago. The Gardens of Reflections were once a place where the ancient king was said to have spent countless hours in quiet contemplation with his family. It was a place of joy and peace; sealed and abandoned soon after the fell king became a shadow of evil. Once the lone gates to the garden were sealed shut, only a pair of while columns marked where they were.

The rest of the garden became immersed in a grand illusion of beauty. It was an appreciation of the magical arts and the creative mastery of love manifested into physical reality. The walls disappeared, replaced with a view atop an imaginary mesa in a land unknown to ponykind. The skies matched whatever desire of a sky was fancied by the master of the castle.

It shone a bright, cheery spring day, far warmer than the northern climate. The skies danced with cheery, fluffy clouds, white puffs against perfect azure skies. Princess Cadence found it reminded her of Canterlot, before she ascended to an alicorn. A bright sun warmed the lovely flora of the gardens; rose bushes, ammonites, daffodils, violets, parsnips, peppermint plants, lilacs, and countless other flowering plants and herbs Reign could not name off the top of his head. Birds imported from around the world lived among the greenery.

Soft chimes sang in a gentle breeze constantly flowing through an area half the size of a hoofball field. Around the magical mesa was a view of stunning proportions. To the north, a vast mountain range rose majestically, with snow-capped peaks kissing gently the skies along the horizon. To the east lay an endless forest of gentle trees beneath a sea of rustling leaves. West lay rolling plains with a great meandering river glinting in the light of the sun. Lastly lay the south, home to the hills from whence the breeze came, said to be the songs sung by breezies returning the kindness of all the centuries of aid given to their neverending cycles of migration.

Cadence had gone all-out in preparing the garden for Reign’s tenth birthday party. He decided then and there as he took in the view in awed silence she was the most amazing mother any foal could ask for.

“Momma?”

“Yes, dear?”

“It looks so cool!” he blurted, his aches temporarily forgotten as his heart swelled.

Maggie let out an impressed whistle. “Wow, Cadence, you really made this place look amazing!” She was considered family and was allowed to drop formalities with the princess. The changeling had no qualms in that regard.

“The hard part was figuring out how the illusion spells could be tapped into,” admitted the alicorn modestly. “But enough about the garden. Let’s get this party going, shall we?”

“There he is!” called a voice Reign was vaguely familiar with. It took a moment as a lavender aura surrounded him, hoisted his hooves off the ground, and whisked him into the open hooves of purple. “I missed you so much!” cooed the owner of the hooves.

“Aunt Twilight!” Reign squeaked as he was hugged lovingly by another alicorn.

Princess Twilight Sparkle, Lady of Magic, Egghead, and Devourer of Books (metaphorically) embraced her nephew like it had been years since she had last seen him. This was true. Having her own responsibilities and her neverending research into...everything, kept her busy. Reign returned the hug reluctantly as he was having the life squished from him.

“Hug...too...tight…” he wheezed.

She released him, grinning sheepishly. “Sorry, got excited.”

“I want a hug!” Suddenly Maggie flew into Reign and shouldered him aside. She grinned shamelessly up at Twilight, holding her hooves out to the startled mare. “I want you to love me!”

A deeper, multilayered voice erupted in a scolding. “Maggie! Behave yourself, youngling!” Just beyond Twilight was a large and imposing figure the filly knew all too well.

“Momma!” she chirped, bounding over Twilight (startling her again) and flinging herself into a massive changeling’s neck. “I’ve missed you soooo much, Momma!”

Reign Cloud blinked and stared at the giant that dwarfed both his mother and father. The mare was as tall as Celestia, and at least twice as wide. It was easily the largest changeling he had ever seen, making Zeala look like a toothpick. Her mass was impressive and her fangs put a tiger’s to shame. Her mane hung over both shoulders, partially concealing her wicked, yet soft, eyes. Her chitin was touched with splotches of gray, the only indication of her middling age. Interestingly, she wore plain saddlebags.

Reign didn’t have to guess who this changeling was. Maggie spoke of the giant many times and was always both proud and frightened of her.

It was Wilda, Maggie’s foster mother.

She was a brood mother; a changeling mare who raised many hatchlings as it was the instinct to breed that drove them. Such mares were rare, but in ancient times, they were coveted above all other common changelings. The instinct to reproduce was strong and Wilda had forgotten her promise at stopping at eight. Rather, she dismissed it, much to the delight of Yamir, her husband. The number of eggs laid since Maggie came under her care had increased by four since.

The mare crushed the filly to her chest, settling on her haunches as she rocked Maggie in her grasp. “You’re always a delight to me, child,” Wilda told her warmly. “Nothing but pride to my heart and happiness to my soul. Your brothers and sisters miss you.”

They broke apart, Maggie fluttering on her wings.

“But mama, I was home last week!”

Gently the big mare pushed her daughter aside so she could see the prince. “Ah, it is good to see you, little prince,” Wilda said with a smirk. It was a terrifying smirk.

“Oh!” Twilight cried, “I was just learning so much about changeling culture! Wilda has been a big help in answering some of my questions!” She beamed up at the changeling who nodded politely at the alicorn.

“I came to wish you a happy birthday, Reign.” Wilda inclined her head to the young prince who was grinning at the changeling.

“You’re so biiiig!” breathed the colt.

She lowered her head to his level. “And you’re so small.”

“Mama!” Maggie glared at her mother in shock.

“Reign, rude!” admonished Cadence sharply.

Shining Armor suppressed a snicker poorly.

Twilight hovered a hoof over her mouth as she immediately began to imagine the ramifications of a feud erupting right before her eyes. Though she had matured greatly, she was still prone to panic attacks even after so many years growing into her role as Equestria’s newest princess. Her latest was a faux pas she imagined had happened with one of the griffon generals on a visit to Canterlot just this past year. Surely, if Reign felt threatened or if Wilda felt insulted, Twilight wasn’t sure how it would play out as anything good.

Wilda simply laughed and scooped the suddenly startled colt, who yelped, and hugged him to her bosom like he was one of her own. “I should take you to my home and feed you with my hatchlings,” she said as she snuggled with a wide-eyed Reign Cloud.

“I’m afraid his health would not allow for such a trip,” Cadence lamented, not at all willing to let her son set a hoof beyond the castle walls.

“Truly? That’s a shame,” sighed Wilda, setting the colt down. Reign wobbled uncertainly on his hooves before Maggie steadied him with a giggle. “My hatchlings would adore him. I would make sure they do.”

Maggie rolled her eyes. “Silly colt. Stay out of Mama’s reach unless you can take her hugs of death. You know that! Silly, silly Reign.”

“Yeah. Sure.” Reign glared at his mother because of her statement. Her concern for him lapped at his mind. It frustrated him. Why couldn’t he go out? Why couldn’t he see the city and the land and the citizens of the Crystal Empire? Countless times his mother gave the reason; it was always the same. He was simply too weak his physical limitations affirmed her belief.

Cadence, meanwhile, had come beside him and placed a motherly hoof on his shoulder. He nearly flinched, but could feel nothing but love coming from her. It was so confusing! Was she smothering him or was she right in protecting him? Anger welled within him, which Wilda and Maggie both noticed. Cadence did not.

“I brought a gift,” announced the changeling mare, shifting her attention to the princess apologetically. “I did not know if it was appropriate to do so. Your pony customs are still something I cannot fathom.” Her eyes glinted with a mix of merriment and seriousness.

Cadence beamed. “Oh, it’s perfectly all right!”

The changeling smiled and nodded, again with politeness. Like Zeala, her smile was terrifying to see. However, her smile looked and felt genuine, whereas the priestess always seemed to have something hidden behind hers. There was a difference between looking at a content lioness or a laughing hyena.

Reign felt safe around the broodmare and ruffled his feathers contentedly to show it.

Cadence smiled. “Not going to bite this guest, are you?” she teased.

Wilda arched a brow. “Oh?” her ears swiveled upon the prince. “I have larger fangs and he knows it.”

“Busted,” sighed the filly, splaying her ears out as Reign was suddenly glaring at her.

“I get angry sometimes,” admitted Reign with shame, staring at the grass beneath his hooves.

“Is he still having those episodes you wrote me about?” Twilight asked, having observed the colt interact with the brood mother. A soft smile flared across her muzzle before throwing the question at her sister-in-law.

Cadence nodded. “Yes, he is. It’s certainly not from his father’s side of the family. Your house has a reputation for sensible and even keeled ponies, hereditary panic attacks notwithstanding.” A sly grin appeared as she bumped her hip playfully into the other alicorn.

Reign sighed again. He was doing that a lot. Did he have panic attacks? He didn’t think so. He was expected to be a good colt and do his best in his lessons. The colt was supposed to pay attention to the adults tasked with tutoring him. Most of all, he was tasked with keeping his temper in check and to not overexert himself.

Right now, his heart pounded in his chest as he felt a gladness swelling in his heart. Despite the words meant to tease him, there was nothing but good emotions coming from the small gathering of well-wishers. He imagined Wilda would love nothing more than to swoop him up in her hooves, take him to her home, and feed him. The concern he felt from her had to do with his rather scrawny size.

Maggie simply laughed at him. “You’re so easy to read, Reigny.”

“Maggie, enough,” chided her mother sternly.

“Sorry.”

“No you’re not.”

“No, I’m not.” Maggie agreed as she grinned up at her mother. She was bopped on the nose.

“Silly filly.”

Everypony laughed except for Reign Cloud, who simply rolled his eyes.

The walls flickered, the illusion interrupted as a pair of ponies joined the party. Father Sun Cloud (Reign was assured he was of no relation) and Preceptor Starcaller filed in, each one bearing a gift as they glared at each other from some sort of argument between the two. The ancient unicorn and warlike pegasus shifted immediately to expressions befitting the joyous occasion. “Happy birthday, Prince Reign Cloud!” they chorused.

Wilda sighed. “I hope they don’t try to convert me.”

Reign gave her an odd look. Maggie noticed, leaned over to him and whispered, “She’s agnostic. Organized religion makes her cranky. I told you.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Hush children,” growled Wilda softly. “Be polite and respect these ponies. Treat them as you would the childish elderly.”

“Yes, mama,” sighed Maggie.

Again, Reign rolled his eyes. Rising to his hooves, he trotted to the newcomers, a practiced smile formed. Cadence had taught him how to behave around honored guests and with her watching him, he would not dare disappoint her. Disappointing his mother tore at his heart, so he did his best to be a good colt, even if his temper sometimes got the better of him.

Which was often.

He greeted the newcomers, already feeling wobbly from exerting his shallow reserves of energy. “Father! Preceptor! I’m so glad you could come!”

“I apologize we were late for your surprise party,” said Sun with a grandfatherly smile. “We had a disagreement on the time.” A meaningful glance was thrown at Starcaller.

“He overslept,” supplied the elderly mare. She rarely smiled, if ever. Nor had Reign ever heard of the mare getting angry. Starcaller also said little. Reign suddenly had a small gift pressed into his hooves. “Open it.”

He turned over his shoulder and gave Cadence a hopeful look. She smiled, waving an encouraging hoof at him.

Twilight tittered next to her. “That look! Do you have a camera, Cadence?”

Cadence said smugly, “I’ll have pictures galore Celestia and Luna will absolutely love to see!” She tossed her horn above them, drawing all eyes to seeing a camera in the grasp of a professional photographer, a pegasus. “I’m planning on making a small album with a few pictures to send them, then make a larger one as a Hearth’s Warming gift with other pictures I’ll compile for them.” She squeed, clapping her forehooves together. “I get goosebumps thinking about it!”

The princess was obsessed about having pictures of her boy. One day, he would have to leave the nest, leaving his poor, poor mother alone with his hoofball-crazed father. She had told the colt many times before, while sniffling and cuddling the life out of him.

Creepy…

He tore open the little package, the expertly done wrapping shredded from a combination of fangs and hooves. It was a small wooden box, engraved with Luna’s cutie mark on the top. He lifted the lid and was greeted by a silvery dagger in an ebon sheath. It too bore the Night Princess’ mark.

“A Night Dagger!” Reign chirped happily. He smiled hugely up at the stoic mare. “Thank you!” On impulse, he threw himself at her for a hug. The elderly mare was somewhat taken aback by the action, but returned the gesture, her face as impassive as ever. When he was set down, the prince gave her a funny look. “You’re wearing chainmail?” he asked her curiously.

“Part of my habit,” she replied with a shrug.

“She even bathes in it,” muttered Sun Cloud, earning a glare from the mare.

“You would know,” retorted Starcaller coolly.

“What does that mean?” Reign asked curiously.

Shining Armor clamped his hooves over his son’s ears. “Really?” he said, giving the two holy ponies a pained expression. “Of all ponies to bring up such a subject...you two?”

“My apologies,” suffered Sun wanely. “It sort of happened.”

“Can you keep it between the two of you? And no one else?”

Starcaller adjusted her wings and nodded, completely unaffected by the conversation. “Make sure your son doesn’t cut—”

“Ouch!” Reign cried, holding up a nicked hoof. A thin line of blood formed on his fetlock. The shiny new dagger was in his other hoof.

“Eh, nevermind.”

“Shining!” shouted Cadence, her maternal instincts in full bloom the moment Reign’s self-inflicted wound was made known.

She teleported fifteen feet to her little colt, immediately examining the wound while taking the knife, sheathing it, placing it in its box, and shoving it gently into her husband’s hooves.

“Put this somewhere safe.” Her horn was already glowing as a healing spell was applied to a wound barely rated above that of a paper cut. “Honestly, Perceptor, a knife for a colt his age? A bit young, don’t you think?”

The gray pegasus gave the princess a raised eyebrow. “Had one when I was five.”

“Well, he’s not you. He can have the knife back when he’s older. Thank you for the lovely gift. Reign, what do you say?”

Embarrassed by his mother’s clucking, Reign could only mumble his thanks again, not wanting to correct his mother. Starcaller patted him on the head and made a beeline for the cake. Cadence seemed to forget the colt had already thanked the Preceptor, but she was satisfied.

“Here’s my gift,” said Sun Cloud modestly. “It’s not as dangerous as the Preceptor’s, I assure you.” He handed Reign a package wrapped in simple cloth. “It was something I felt would be interesting, considering your love of history, young prince.”

History? Reign’s ears perked up as he accepted the gift. It was shaped like a book. He did so love books (though admittedly not to the extent of Aunt Twilight). Sure enough, the wrapping fell away and revealed the dark brown cover of a rather thick novel. There was no title on the front, but the spine bore the words DAY OF THE CHANGELINGS.

“It’s a first edition, just published. Detailed accounts from the attack on Canterlot.” The priest spoke as Reign leafed through the pages and the chapters with rapt awe. “It’s everything possibly known, as well as the results of eight years of investigations, fact-finding, scrutiny, opinions and what have you.” He seemed rather pleased with himself.

Cadence’s smile at the Father fell as he went on. “No, it’s not like a knife at all,” she said diplomatically. Gently she plucked it from Reign’s grasp, despite his protest and sourpuss face. “You can read that when you’re older, Reign,” she told him. “What do you say?”

He sighed. “Thank you, Father Sun Cloud.”

“I hope I have not offended,” worried the old unicorn. “It’s perfectly unbiased and filled with only facts. I know the child’s love for truthful literature and thought it would be nice gift.”

“It’s not that, Father,” Cadence offered with a small smile, “but there are certain things my husband and I have not spoken to our son about in regards to...certain facts. He knows who his birth mother is, but little in regards to the violence following his...well, you know.”

“Ah, I see. I could get the prince something else.”

“No! The gift is perfectly fine! Reign simply is too young for it. I want to see the contents myself before I decide if he should have it.”

“I’m right here,” muttered the colt indignantly.

Cadence smiled down at him. “I’m just doing what’s best for you.” She nuzzled him briefly as the book was telekinetically moved into his father’s grasp. “Shining!”

“Yes, dear.” The book joined the knife.

Reign pouted at his mother, using his ‘biggest eyes’ impression to go along with his quivering lower lip.

“Don’t be that way, Reign,” she sighed, draping a wing over him. “It’s your birthday. There are lots of other presents you can open. Why don’t we see what Twilight brought you?”

It did brighten his mood a bit more. Twilight always brought something nice. Last year it was a model airship. It hung from the ceiling in his room. “Okay,” he said.

Twilight was chatting quietly with Wilda as the two had been watching with amusement the prince opening his two gifts. The princess accepted the simple but odd genuflections from the pair, not at all used to being regarded as a goddess since her ascension. Reign heard somewhere she was bound and determined to not allow any temples to be built to worship her. The very idea embarrassed her to no end.

The small gathering came together at the table, chatting with each other. Reign could feel the emotions, some better controlled than others. For the most part, there was happiness for him, pride, even satisfaction. The colt wasn’t very good at pinpointing the source of individual emotions, not like Maggie or Wilda. He was certain those two could probably sit down and give him detailed accounts of who felt what for whatever reason.

Underlying all of the positives was a sense of worry and helplessness. Reign understood those, as they were constantly in the back of his thoughts.

This was a good day for the prince. It was relaxing, fun, and didn’t tax his body too terribly. Tomorrow would be the day the city would celebrate his birthday. Reign would be sitting on a small throne for several hours handing out gifts to other foals and fillies, an idea of his mother’s to give back to the citizens and create some good publicity. He was disappointed his grandparents weren’t here, but they would arrive tomorrow and spoil him accordingly. Aunt Celestia and Aunt Luna would be in the next morning as well. A nuzzle from Aunt Twilight and a rib-crushing hug from Wilda announced the last of the guests were on their way out.

Reign would see them all again tomorrow at his public birthday party.

For the first time in a decade, the griffons were re-opening diplomatic ties, it was rumored. Though Reign and Maggie were regarded as too young to participate in adult topics unavoidably worming its way into the quiet little celebration, they listened in. Wilda didn’t seem to care much for the lion birds. Apparently there was a lot of bad blood between her kind and griffons. Reign’s aunts had moved the meeting to the Crystal Empire because of its closer proximity to griffon territory.

One thing became abundantly clear as the conversation unfolded.

Reign Cloud was going to see his first griffon tomorrow!

Towards the end of the party, as the guests began to head for home after wishing the prince a wonderful birthday, Cadence drew her son aside. She drew a wing over his shoulder and pulled him in close, assuming a very serious but gentle tone.

“Be on your best behavior tomorrow, my little biter,” she told him. “Griffons will not take well to being bitten. After dinner, I’ll be in your room to go over proper etiquette when dealing with them. You’ll probably meet the ambassador’s daughter. She’s about your age, maybe a little older. Make a friend! Can you do that for me, Reign?”

Shining Armor joined the conversation. “He’ll be fine, Cady,” he said to her, smiling proudly at his son.

“I’ll be good,” promised Reign, giving his best smile. He hated disappointing his mother and father. “Maggie will be there.”

Servants were beginning to clean up the mess.

“Did you like the gifts?” Shining asked.

Reign beamed at his father. “Yeah. I really like the telescope Aunt Twilight gave me! Now I can look at the stars Aunt Woona puts up every night!”

His father winced. “If I called her that, she’d put me on her moon. I don’t know how you get away with it, kiddo.”

“I’d like to see what it’s like on the moon,” Reign sighed. “I wonder if there’s any pain there if you’re put in it.” He immediately wished he had kept his mouth shut as his father glared at him sharply.

“What talk is this?” he growled, thumping his son with a hoof to a shoulder. “You shouldn’t talk like that, Reign.”

“There’s no cure for me, is there?” The young prince was suddenly glum. All of his happiness drained away, replaced by the gray despair. “I mean, nothing Aunt Twilight has tried has worked.”

“None of that, Reign!” Shining shook his son. “You are going to be around for a long time. You’re going to become a stallion in your own right and you’re going to be a good pony! If there’s anything life’s taught me, it’s to never give up.”

Cadence caught only part of the conversation. “Life’s also taught you to throw your wife at falling dragons,” she said with a giggle. “I want the three of us to stay here a little bit longer.” The princess’ smile faded a little, her eyes falling upon Reign. He squirmed under her stare, looking uncomfortable. “Your father is right. Never give up.”

Maggie hopped up, bumping into Reign’s side. Twilight followed behind her, shaking her head at the rambunctious filly. Wilda was at her tail, licking bits of frosting from her fangs and lips. The two heads of the Temples had already departed. Upon reflection, it was a pathetically small celebration.

Reign wished his other aunts could have made it, even Grandmother and Grandfather. There was little he believed in, but his family was his core for everything that meant anything to him. Oddly enough, even Wilda could be included.

“Might I borrow Maggie for a while?” asked the giant changeling mare. She was still trying to attack bits of frosting, her long, black tongue darting at the affected lip. “I want to spend some time with her.” She drew up alongside the filly and blinked expectantly.

“Of course, take as much time as you need. You’re welcome to stay for dinner,” Cadence offered.

Wilda bobbed her snout. “Accepted! I’ve been sensing his moods,” —she gave Reign a flick of her ear— “I’d like to get a feel for his swings myself. Hearing second hand accounts from my daughter here over the past few months has me curious.”

Reign sighed for the upteenth time today. “Really?” he muttered.

Maggie suddenly filled his vision. “Yep! Really!” Confusion filled her thoughts. “What are we talking about?”

“So,” Twilight said, clearing her throat. “Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow!” parroted Cadence, brightening. “Tomorrow, my aunts will be here and they’ll be wanting to see you, Reign and wish you a happy birthday. I’m so sorry they couldn’t be here tonight, but some last minute things came up.”

Wilda began to step away from the group. “I’m off. Maggie! Come, girl.” Her tone was gentle as she spoke to the filly. Maggie chirped happily and followed, after waving enthusiastically at everypony.

“See you tomorrow!”

Reign gave her a half-hearted wave. Freedom! Sweet freedom!

...until tomorrow.

“Thanks again, Aunt Twilight,” he said to the alicorn, pushing Maggie out of this thoughts. “Does Luna keep star charts for specific nights? I can’t remember if each night is unique or if she follows a pattern.”

“You’re changing the subject,” his aunt noted. “What’s wrong?”

Reign searched about and noted the photographer idly packing his things into a case. He was done and had helped himself to some cake. He gave his mother a pleading look. She smiled and trotted over to the pegasus, cheerfully thanking him for his efforts and helping him with his equipment. She even gave him another slice of cake before escorting him from the garden. She soon returned, bringing with her a glass of fruit punch with her magic. She gave it to her son, laying down in the grass and beckoning him to join her.

He fell in beside her with no grace, flopping on his belly and sprawling out his hind legs. The prince sipped his drink, his forelegs folded over each other with the glass between them. “What happens when the medicine is gone?” Reign asked into his glass. “Nothing’s worked. I do nothing but hurt, Momma. I’m tired of hurting. I always hurt. Why do I always hurt? Did I do something wrong? Is it because I’m a bad pony?”

The three adults looked at him in shock. Cadence grabbed him with her hooves and hauled him into a hug only mothers could pull off. Her motion and his flailing appendages knocked over his drink. Reign was mother smothered.

“Don’t you say such things!” she cried, nuzzling him fiercely. “Don’t you dare, my son, my only child! From the moment I laid eyes upon you, I loved you as my own flesh and blood.” Tears welled up, flowed down her cheeks before falling upon the startled colt. “There’s a way!”

Twilight cleared her throat, her own eyes misting and threatening to spill out. “I think there’s one sure way to get past this,” she said as diplomatically as possible. “The best I can come up with was one of the first theories I came up with years ago.” She sniffled, then took a deep breath. “B.B.B.F.F.?”

“Yes, Twily?” Shining was nuzzling his son when she asked for him. He was looking at her now. Reign was looking at her now, as well and awkwardly as he squirmed in his mother’s grasp.

“We need to find Chrysalis.”

Author's Note

Aaaaaand here's the other half of the original chapter 7!

Questions? Comments? Free ponies?

Let me know!

9. Mystery Mare

Edited by Iakovl, DJ_Neon_Lights and Magic Man

The first thing she picked up on was the sound of merry music wafting on the gentle breeze as she acclimated herself to her first unobstructed view of the Crystal City. She was a tall unicorn, fresh off the train from Manehatten. Her ebony coat shone with impeccable neatness, groomed with the attention of a mare who cared greatly for her appearance. Wearing little more than a white sun hat and a diaphanous scarf of red silk, she felt light and comfortable, rather than being burdened with some of the more ridiculous excuses for fashion she had once modeled in. Carrying herself with great pride and assuredness, she took a moment to bask in the sun over the sparkling new train station. Her saddlebags were of the most fashionable design, made by a certain fashionista known personally by Princess Celestia. Her emerald eye flickered over the scene before her; ponies wandering about their business, lost in their own personal worlds.

The royal entourage for the diarchs of Equestria had disembarked first. The white alicorn chatted with her darker sister. Both took the time to smile at their subjects as well as the subjects of their adopted niece and nephew-in-law. Impassively, the unicorn watched until they boarded a large covered chariot pulled by four burly Crystal ponies. Within minutes, they were off to the sound of clattering hooves and rolling wheels over cobblestones.

She smiled, tossing her thick, long and luxurious sea-green mane and flicking her perfectly brushed tail. Ignoring the crowds, the mare took the moment to watch the princesses disappear down the street. Those who did look upon her would do a double-take. Her left eye was whole and perfect, full of life and resolve. Her right eye was gone, taken years ago. In its place was a pearl-like facsimile. Over that eye ran a vertical scar from her maneline down to her jaw line. This marred her beauty, but in a way almost poetic. A wide lock of mane was draped artfully over the false eye, partially concealing it. Certainly, her ruined eye drew stares, but stallions found themselves holding their breath as she glided past them, her baggage in tow within the grasp of her magic. Three suitcases and a carry-on was in addition to her saddle bags. A porter offered to take them off her hooves, but she brushed him off with a simple shake of her head and a flipped bit in his direction.

A pair of sunglasses lifted effortlessly from her right saddlebag and was put on with a content sigh.

The mare thought of the reason why she was here. Ah, yes, a contract. She had sent another letter, coded, of course. The price was generous, the offer good. The client had asked for her services before, and she had delivered both times. There were others who used her skills, who paid her fees. She had enough in her for one more job.

She quivered in anticipation, shivering in the sun as a stallion approached. He was pale, with a brown mane. He wore a blue uniform, complete with a white pith helmet. In its center was mounted a badge of authority, with some numbers beneath the word ‘CONSTABLE’.

This was new.

“Good day, madame,” greeted the stallion apologetically. “I must apologize as I need to check to see your papers.”

She stopped, regarding the nervous stallion with her good eye. “Oh? Of course. Might I inquire as to why?”

“Haven’t you heard?” the stallion asked. The mare shook her head. “Well, yesterday was Prince Reign Cloud’s birthday. He had a private celebration with his family. Today, he shares his birthday with all of the Crystal Empire!” His tone changed as he swelled up with pride.

“How nice,” she said, pulling the requested documents from her pack. “Ah, here we go.” She hoofed them over and smiled. “I would assume such a public showing of the prince would need the right security.”

“Well, given the number of attempts on his life and the sparse times he’s been seen publicly, the Royal Family can’t be too careful.” He cheerily began to leaf through her travel papers. As the Crystal Empire was considered an independent ally of Equestria, passports were needed, mostly due to criminals thinking they can find refuge in this new country.

“What sort of celebration is going to be held?” she asked curiously. “More presents for the prince? I find that a bit excessive.”

“Oh, nothing of the sort!” chortled the stallion, looking up from his examination for a moment. “The prince gives toys out to every colt and filly who comes to the party. It’s for the citizens and guests of the Crystal Empire!” He resumed scrutinizing every detail within her official papers.

“That’s...different,” admitted the mare, a bit shocked, but not surprised. Ponies always were doing strange things in the Crystal Empire. “Is it some sort of charity?”

“Oh, not in the least, Miss… Emerald Spire?” The stallion looked up. “THE Emerald Spire?”

“Is something wrong?”

He blushed a little beneath his furry cheeks. “Oh, nothing. What is a fashion model like you doing here? My wife spent years trying to wear the clothing lines you modeled for.”

Emerald Spire chuckled lightly, flushing beneath her dark fur. “Oh, I haven’t done any of that since my accident,” she said, lifting up her sunglasses slightly and presenting her right eye. “This more or less ended my career.”

“Oh, Celestia!” The constable blanched and winced. “I apologize,” he said, averting his eyes back to his duties.

“Pish-posh!” she cried in good humor. “There is more to life than posing for cameras in questionable attire!” The stallion blushed again, clearing his throat. Emerald then asked, “Have you heard of Prince Shining Armor’s efforts in acquiring a professional hoofball team?”

He nodded eagerly as he hoofed back her passport. “I have! I used to follow the Marauders in Manehatten before calls for experienced law enforcement was sent out by Princess Cadence. The Guard simply was not enough.”

She placed it back into her saddlebag. “Not enough?”

“I am an unarmed peacekeeper, Miss Emerald Spire,” he said unabashedly. “My job is to be a visible presence without being seen as a threat. I do apologize, but I can’t really spend time explaining you our short history.” He smiled, almost embarassed.

She believed him. “I apologize for keeping you from your duties, Constable…?”

“Equal Eye, ma’am.”

“You’ve been more than professional in your job, Constable Equal Eye.”

He gave her another nod and a genuine smile. Half-turning, Equal Eye paused and gave her an almost hopeful look. “Do you think you’ve got a good chance of bringing us a team?”

She replied with a half grin and a wink, “We’ll see. I’m not the only one interested in backing a potential franchise. It’s an enormous amount of work.” Her research into the matter had turned out to be a nightmare. Why would anypony want to own a sports team?

“Well, thank you and good luck!” called the stallion. He turned, smiling, and went off to check another pony’s passport. He was already on the next one within moments.

She moved on, her hooves carrying her deeper into the Crystal City. There was a tourist information booth up ahead and she decided to stop by for a map. There were a lot of ponies milling around it, as well as a couple of griffons. A zebra was looking at a large public map while holding a translation book in a hoof. She glanced up at the board, then down to her book, her lips moving silently as her brows creased in concentration.

Emerald ignored her and fished out one of the countless maps offered freely to newcomers to the fair city a thousand years behind the rest of the world. Her luggage was still hovering behind her as she pursed her lips, browsing through a list of hotels conveniently printed on the back of the map. There were attractions and other points of interest listed, but her journey had been long. The trip from Manehatten alone took four days. The unicorn sorely wanted a room and a nice, soft bed. Oh, and a bath! A lovely, long bath with all the scents and lotions to make a girl relax.

Curious of the revelation this was a sort of national holiday centered on the birth of a young royal, Emerald Spire decided to find a hotel, freshen up, then go see what this celebration was all about. It was still early in the morning, somewhere between lunch and breakfast. She never bothered to check the time until her eyes sought out and found a tower clock above the train station. It was just past nine, she discovered. Luckily, there was also a schedule of events pertaining to the public celebration of Prince Reign Cloud’s birth.

As she strode in a stately manner in the general direction of the hotels, she eyed the events planned for today. Indeed, when she did look up from her reading, there was bunting and balloons of bright colors. The atmosphere was festive. Vendors sold all sorts of food, most of which was probably not considered a healthy fare. The smells assaulted the unicorn’s nostrils, an aroma of guilty pleasure and the promise of too much sugar and a great number of empty calories. She noted with a wry smile how many foals raced past her, shouting and hooting, some bearing balloons tied to their tails. Not able to stop herself, she purchased a funnel cake coated with powdered sugar and fresh strawberries. It would go straight to her flanks and thighs, of course, but smelling the decadent indulgence overrode her self restraint.

It was gone by the time she made it to the hotel she had settled on, but still made it’s previous presence known by a minute amount of powdered sugar left on her muzzle. The Crystal Comfort was a recent renovation, based on the facade. It was bright and inviting...and morbidly expensive. A door pony in a red suit opened the door for Emerald and she passed through with a nod of thanks to the freckled colt.

The main lobby was breathtaking: The brightest and most perfectly cut crystals made up the pillars supporting the ceiling and ten floors above it. The unicorn was impressed, finding everything opulent and very expensive. She needed to impress and this expensive hotel would suffice. Her stay was for an indeterminate amount of time. There were things to do and she planned on no more than two months at the most.

She made her way to the service desk, where an older mare with her mane in a bun smiled at her as she approached.

“Good morning, ma’am. Welcome to the Crystal Comfort!” chimed the mare in welcome. “How can I help you?”

“Have you any rooms available?” Emerald asked, returning the smile.

“Have you a reservation?”

“Should be under the name Spiral,” she answered.

“One moment, please, Miss Spiral.”

“Of course! No rush, so long as everything is proper and in order.” Emerald set her baggage down next to her and doffed her hat and adjusted her scarf. She hoped the scarf had not wrinkled. Silk could crease.

“Ah, here you are, Miss Spiral,” announced the mare. “You reserved the Royal Suite?”

“I did indeed!” she still wore her smile, allowing it to grow larger.

“If you would be so kind as to sign in, please?” The mare turned the register and held a pen out for Emerald to take. The unicorn took it gently with her magic and signed where she needed to, then hoofed the quill back to the still-smiling mare. As she did so, the mare behind the counter waved over a bell hop. A rather large and burly young Crystal pony trotted over, dressed in red to include his black, bellhop cap with gold braid trim.

“Royal Suite it is!” the mare hoofed over the key with a smile as the ledger was returned. “Enjoy your stay, Miss Emerald Spire.”

A luggage cart was soon holding the unicorn’s possessions as an elevator was taken to the top floor. She was shown her room and found it perfectly suitable for her needs. Emerald gave the bell hop a few bits after he showed her everything and thanked him. Once she was alone, she considered a few things thoughtfully. She had options and she had time before meeting her potential client for further instructions. Perhaps she could study this festival in detail, as it was certainly a more recent addition to the list of holidays on the pony calendar.

“Should I change?” she wondered aloud, casting her eye to the walls and the ceiling of her living room. There was also a large bedroom with a walk-in closet, a small but full kitchen, a very large bathroom with a luxury bath fit for a king, and a small garden complete with a koi pond outside.

Of all the most expensive hotels rooms she could choose from, Emerald had spared no expense. And why not? She deserved it after all of her hard work. The mare busied herself to putting her things away, anticipating an extended stay. Once she was satisfied everything was where she wanted it, she stepped out on the garden enshrouded roof of the hotel. She made her way to the edge where a white rail served as a barrier. As she did so, with her floated along the list of events. The sounds of the crowd and the various music of the festival wafted up above the streets, creating a happy background for the mare. Emerald tilted her attention towards the castle. There was a flow of ponies and other beings streaming to and from it, going between vendors and rides and shops. Joy filled the air.

She noted there were few changelings in the area below her. Curious, she thought there should be more about. Perhaps she should look into this? It might be nothing, as changelings tended to keep to themselves rather than mix with prey species.

“Feh, something for later,” she said aloud, startling a pigeon. She followed the flight of the bird impassively before returning her stare upon the castle.

Oh, the world knew of the adopted son of Princess Cadence and Shining Armor. The tabloids loved him. All sorts of made-up stories circulated about the young colt. Emerald had amused herself in the past by picking up copies and reading the stories. She was sure most of them had to be false. To be able to lay eyes on him for herself added to her curiosity. Most curious was the very idea of Prince Reign Cloud would give presents to subjects of his generation. According to the pamphlet she had picked up from the visitor center, there would be a banquet tonight in the castle. All would be welcome within the walls of the palace. Games and food and music; everything needed for a proper birthday.

Emerald was impressed, if a bit put off at such generosity. As she stared at the castle, her mind worked, reasoning out certain things in her mind. Clucking her tongue against the back of her teeth, she pursed her lips and snorted with a flare of her nostrils. She could practically feel the celebration on the streets below. All of the city was alive with happiness.

The mare decided to do a little exploring, as she had several hours before main events would unfold. It was rare she could afford the opportunity to relax and simply take in the sights. Perhaps she could see a changeling or two. There was a changeling district here, so she could assume the primary inhabitants of the city were more or less used to them. She was curious as to the nature of the changeling community. There was none other in the world quite like this one and so far as she knew, the only one known publicly to exist.

Shortly after, she found herself back on the streets, gliding through the pockets of ponies lost in their own navigation of the streets. Emerald took a moment to find her bearings, her hat and sunglasses once again in place before setting her legs to cruise in the general direction of the castle.

It did not take long for her to figure most visitors to the Crystal City were from Equestria. They didn’t exactly have overwhelming numbers, but other races were few and far between. Equines dominated the streets, going about their business. There was the odd griffon here and there, but little else. Most other races found the journey inhospitable unless they took the lone railway from Equestria.

Small herds of laughing foals raced past her legs, dragging behind them balloons and a yapping and excited puppy. She watched them until they disappeared into the crowd, their squeals of laughter sounding through the din of ponies. Emerald’s eyes followed the balloons until they turned a corner and past a chromatic-maned pegasus mare talking animatedly with somepony the unicorn couldn’t see.

She had considered having lunch in the hotel’s café, but the funnel cake had stoked the desire for more carnival fare, much to the chagrin of her flanks. Festivals like the one encompassing the seeming entirety of the city (it was in truth filling six city blocks, including one of the largest public parks in the Crystal City) offered a wide variety of food. Most of it was in one form or another fried. Almost none was for those with healthier eating habits.

Emerald Spiral was certain she would regret the extra pounds, but a girl was allowed to indulge every now and again, wasn’t she? With a hitch in her step and steel in her nerves, she spied out the food vendors and spotted one with a colorful sign proclaiming ‘Fried Caramel Bars’ and ‘Fried S’mores’ among the delectable delights available. Just thinking about them gave the sensation of teeth rotting and falling out of her gums.

“Why not?” she sighed, knowing she was going to hate herself in the mirror.

Some hours later, her hooves were sore and her belly was full of the sorts of food no fashion model (retired or otherwise) would be caught dead devouring. Having enjoyed herself, she took the time to study the demeanor of the inhabitants of the city while traversing through the party. Some well-placed questions with some of the residents at their booths filled her in with the details of why this celebration had been set.

Prince Reign Cloud was turning ten this day. He was a full decade into his young life, a milestone Princess Mi Amore Cadenza felt warranted sharing with her beloved subjects. It was also a tactical attempt at winning the hearts and minds of a small nation already enamoured with her and her husband.

There was even a wife-tossing contest Emerald had witnessed in its entirety. For almost an hour, she witnessed stallions attempt to throw their wives over a heavily padded range, knocking down as many suspended foam hearts as possible. Points were determined by a combination of distance, number of hearts knocked down, and style as judged by a panel of seven ponies in various stages of inebriation. The waves of laughter from the crowd with each toss was followed up by either a cheer or groan, depending on the effort taken in the stallion hurling his beloved like an unwanted boulder. It was even funnier if the husband and wife bickered at each other if the attempt was particularly poor.

The grounds upon which the contest was held was a portion of the park with a stretch of a hundred yards. Bleachers were set along both sides of the selected field, with colorful arches thirty yards high bearing multi-colored pennants flapping gently in the breeze. They had begun to fill as soon as the contest had been announced.

A changeling pair tried to enter, but was met with some hesitation as it was the mare who wanted to throw her husband. Considering her size in relation to her mate’s, it was allowed. The changeling mare was enormous and carried herself with a calm confidence. She was easily much larger than her stallion and they had four hatchlings to cheer them on. Rather, they ‘chirped’ their parents on.

Emerald could tell the non-residents of the city were uncomfortable with the sudden entry of a pair of changelings (some had outright horrified looks), but the ponies comfortable with the changeling pair began to grumble at the judges, most of them in favor of allowing them to participate. By the time the decided to accept the unexpected pair, those who had an issue with their presence had either left or fainted dead from the sight of them. They were neatly stacked off to the side under the shade of a tree and watched over by a bemused old stallion gumming the stem of a worn old pipe.

“Tourists,” he grumbled, giving the unconscious ponies the stinkeye.

Emerald caught herself giggling before turning with some interest at the sight before her: a changeling mare instructing her attentive husband in whispers into his ear in detail. He nodded, eyeballing the foam hearts dangling from hooks at the end of colorful bits of string. Both bore grim expressions of seasoned warriors determined to make a heroic last stand. Their bounding brood at their hooves made it all the more comical, given the festive air around them.

Finally, they assumed their wife-tossing positions (in this case, husband-tossing). The mare placed her hooves in the placement marked for all the previous contestants, her husband dutifully at her side. She then licked the end of a forehoof and stuck it in the air. There was very little breeze. Satisfied (after the amused tittering of the onlookers), she simply grabbed her husband, reared back on her hind legs, cocked her husband over her head with her front legs, and with a mighty heave, sent him flying like a clown out of a canon.

He screamed like a madpony, as his wife put a bit too much into the throw and angled him a bit too high in the eyes of the onlookers. The stallion went through the string, arching at an angle beneath what most other contestants had gone through. Their children watched in silent and open-mouthed amazement. Their father unintentionally gathered string, hearts falling as he passed through with impressive speed. He did not use his wings, and on his downward arc, closed his eyes shut as his body gathered more and more string that broke off from the arches they dangled from. There was a soft ‘thump’ as he sank into the deep cushions on the ground.

He arose from the soft crater completely disoriented and covered in string. Once he got his bearings and figured what he was entangled with, he sighed and glared at his uproariously laughing better half. Half the stands were filled with laughing onlookers while the other half simply gaped at the display of raw power.

“Yamir, come out of there!” commanded the mare as she wiped tears from her eyes.

Like a proud, disoriented peacock, the changeling stallion hauled himself out of the cushioned pit, accepted hooves offered to him. The four hatchlings buzzed over to him, nuzzling their father and excitedly recapping what they saw with their own eyes. They never stopped bouncing as they smiled in awe at the changeling. The big mare lazily flew over to him, still chuckling as her significant other gave her a mock glare. She landed, looked him over carefully, giggled for a few moments despite his withering glare, and straightened. Both adults looked at the judges to see their scores.

They flashed some numbers, their purpose Emerald could only get a gist of. One was for the number of hearts knocked down, the other might have been for distance. A third one might represent style points. There were four other numbers, their purpose escaping the unicorn. From the hoof stomping of the audience, it was an enjoyable spectacle.

Yamir plucked at the string entangled to his body with a hoof and sighed.

Having seen enough, Emerald Spire adjusted her hat and her sunglasses and disappeared into the passing crowds, making her way in the general direction of the changeling district. She was curious to see if they were inclined to share their own celebratory moods with the other races. It was clear the Crystal ponies didn’t seem to mind the young prince being a half breed, but how were the changelings taking his existence?

Her curiosity piqued, Emerald flicked her tail and paused long enough to consult her map one more time. They city’s layout was round, like a great wheel, the areas between the spokes were labelled. The changeling district was in between the same spokes as the temple grounds, though on the outer part of the section. As she moved along, she caught subtle movement along her peripheral line of sight to her left. She glanced, finding the chromatic maned pegasus again, this time with an orange earth pony wearing a stetson and a pink earth pony busy feeding ice cream to a pair of foals. Shrugging to herself, Emerald moved on.

Eventually she left the celebration behind and found herself traversing streets lined with homes. There were few ponies here, mostly going about their business. Emerald figured so long as she was going with the spires of the temples to her right, she would eventually make her way to the changeling district. She noted the neighborhood was a touch below middle class; not exactly at the middle income bracket nor was it something considered impoverished. The homes were small and neat for the most part, rows upon rows of three story houses on either side of the street. Some had small front yards barely big enough to fit no more than three ponies. Some had been converted to lovely little flower gardens.

More than a few stallions openly ogled her.

She ignored them, but smiled to herself as she kept the map out for reference. The unicorn wasn’t worried about being mugged, not in this city. After a string of incidents some years ago, the Crystal Guard had taken steps to stamp out the unexpected violence. With the help of the changelings living in the city, they were quite successful, though petty crimes were still common. As there were few unicorns residing in the Crystal City. Not surprisingly, most were nobles, just like in Canterlot. Unlike the capital of Equestria, here there were quite a few Crystal pony noble families, more so than even the unicorns.

Spurred by curiosity and a desire to spend her free time satisfying it, she could barely hear the sounds of the festival behind her as she came out from one of the narrow streets and beheld one of the wider avenues; a spoke of the city’s wheel. Here, there were small parks dividing the two sections. She could make out a few dark forms flitting about, chirping sounds and buzzing noises no pony could make sounded in her swiveling ears. There they were, changelings.

Changeling vendors on street corners hawked fruits and vegetables, calling out to passers-bye by vibrating their wings invitingly, making loud and strange vibrating sounds. Some were sitting in the park and as Emerald passed by them, gave her a glancing interest before returning to their own business. Most ponies would consider a changeling a rather hideous creature, especially a sheltered pony. Just a look at one and any pony would understand a changeling was a predator. It was not uncommon for a pony to flee in fear upon sighting one of the shape-shifters or faint dead away.

Here was a thriving community in the middle of a pony city.

Changeling mares watched their hatchlings as they played in the park. Some even had pony friends who played with them. They were few indeed, as Emerald imagined most colts and fillies were playing the games offered at the festival and going on the rides offered there. There seemed to be plenty of adult supervision.

An old pair of changeling stallions playing chess took notice of the mare and grinned at her shamelessly. Both were missing most of their teeth and had chitin grayed with age.

“Lost, filly?” asked the taller of the two, his head wobbling on his thin neck. “Don’t get no unicorns ‘round here. Not many here in the Crystal City to begin with.”

His partner snorted and glowered at him. “Feck! You numbskull! First nice tail we see all day and you get all creepy-like on her!” He was a dumpy looking old coot, with one fang missing. “Don’t pay Feck no mind, miss unicorn.”

“No offense taken,” she said, amused greatly by the two. “At least you know a pretty mare when you see one.”

Feck laughed. It was of the wheezing sort, which alarmed Emerald enough to think he would keel over and die from the effort. “Me and Nort here just like the ladies. You smell nice, too.”

His companion sniffed at her. “Yeah, you do smell nice. Don’t normally get any ponies that smell quite like you.” He eyed the chess board with spite and made an aggressive move with a pawn. “Check! Ha! I got you today, Feck! You’re going down!” he crowed with grotesque delight.

“Nevermind the game for a minute. Mare in distress!” the old changeling charged, thrusting a hoof at Emerald. “Focus!”

Feck ran his tongue over his worn fangs, then threw an appreciating stare along her full length. “Focusing!” he chirped with greedy eyes on Emerald.

Distress? “I’m not—” The unicorn noted the stallion with the wobbly neck was drooling while he stared at her. “Focus harder,” she warned. “Eyes on eyes. Be a nice boy.”

Nort rolled his eyes and shook a hoof at his friend. “Be respectful, you dirty old stallion! I swear, pretty tail goes by and you think you’re a colt again! Be nice to her and she might stick around long enough for the both of us to remember her the rest of our days!”

The unicorn sighed. “Go back to your game, gentlecolts. I’ll ask somepony who’s not inclined to be an old and lecherous foal.”

Nort shrugged, going back to his game and moving his bishop, removing the pawn holding his king in check. He turned back to Emerald. “Me and Feck, we know everyling in this city, from those like us who were here for the King of Shadows to the refugees who fled the civil wars that’ve been raging for the past ten years. You can take that check and shove it where the sun don’t shine, Feck!” he cried.

“Cheating old son of a gelded mule!” snorted Feck in a mumble.

“King of Shadows?” Emerald asked curiously.

“Sombra,” both old changelings answered in unison. Nort added, “The King of Mean, Pooper of Parties, and Bane of the Sisters.”

“Oh, I see.”

“Beaten by a stallion throwing his wife,” chortled Nort, suddenly laughing the moment the words left his old lips. Both old stallions were hooting uproariously as they played the image in their minds. “Saw it with my own eyes! Plain as day! Shining Armor, he just lifted that pretty wife of his and zinged her at Sombra. Blew him to smithereens!”

Feck shook his head. “You idiot, he threw Cady at the falling lizard holding the Crystal Heart. Get it right!” He made a futile swat at his friend’s head.

Emerald was greatly amused by these two friends, probably having known each other for generations. “I take it the both of you were here a thousand years ago?” she asked.

“Yep!” said Nort.

“I was born here. I’ll die here,” proclaimed Feck proudly.

“Might I ask who’s in charge of you changelings?” Emerald asked, tilting her head to one side. “I’ve heard of the priestess, but from what I’ve heard, changelings don’t follow the clergy. Don’t you have a queen?”

Both old stallions stared at each other in silence. “Well,” Feck began, licking his lips as Nort moved his rook. He glared at him. “That’s a stupid move, Nort.” The two glared at each other for a few seconds before Feck resumed his explaination. “We get spiritual guidance from Zeala. She ain’t the bad sort, I don’t think, but she’s creepy-like. As for a queen?” He scratched the back of his neck. “I suppose that would be Wilda. She’s not officially our queen, but it’s more or less fallen on her shoulders by default, what with her being the only brood mare. You know about brood mares, don’t you?” he asked.

Emerald nodded. “Yes. Aren’t they the largest of the females of your kind?”

Nort sighed wistfully. “The afterlife is full of brood mares just a-waitin’ for me. And that wasn’t a stupid move, Feck, you idjit! You just don’t know my strategy!”

“Been the same damn thing for the past thousand damned years,” retorted Feck. He moved his knight. “Check.”

“Where might I find this Wilda? Does she hold court? Is it open to anypony?”

Feck and Nort gave her a blank look.

“She doesn’t have a palace,” said Feck slowly, blinking as he went. “She’s got a flower shop on the corner of Obsidian and Snowflake. No petitioners or anything of that sort. Just a meeting every Wednesday where those who are interested gather down in the old Glory Theater and voice whatever concerns we got. Wilda just keeps things from going outta control. Her and those friends of hers. Makes everyone feel like a gaggle of hatchlings when the politics get too lively.” Both old stallions began giggling in a disturbing manner.

“It’s a sight to see when she gets mad!” laughed Nort.

A queen running a flower shop? How strange! “Where might I find this flower shop?” she asked. “I’m not familiar with the streets.”

“If you’re going to go to her flower shop, you’d better buy something. She’s a business mare and doesn’t really care for ponies nosing around, asking questions, and not helping out her business,” Feck said with complete seriousness. “She works full time, has a house full of hatchlings, and has no time for nonsense.”

Nort moved his queen and took Feck’s knight. “Yeah, she gets mad when you don’t buy anything from her shop.” He half-turned in his seat and pointed at a street corner where a vendor was selling cabbages. “Go down that street there two blocks, then go left one. You can’t miss it. Wilda’s shop is called Wilda’s Flowers. If the sign don’t warn you, the huge greenhouse next to the shop should tip you off.”

“And don’t worry about us changelings,” quipped Feck as his head wobbled. “We don’t bite.”

“Thank you, gentlecolts,” Emerald said to them graciously. “I won’t disturb you from your game any longer. Have a wonderful day!” She smiled and went on her way, feeling their eyes on her flanks.

“In the name of love, Feck, would you look at that!” she heard behind her.

“I’m looking! I’m looking! Oh, checkmate, you ignorant sack of manure!”

“You filthy, stinking cheater! You cheating stinker!”

Dirty old stallions! She fought the blush creeping up in her cheeks and picked up her stately pace a bit. It was nice to have stallions appreciate her beauty, but this was a bit much even for her. Emerald Spire was far from a prude, but then again, old stallions simply didn’t give two bucks what others thought of them and said what was on their minds.

She went by the changeling selling cabbages to a rather thin shape-shifting mare bearing a small hatchling in her pouch. The little thing blinked up at Emerald from between his mother’s legs. When she drew too close, he withdrew into his mother’s pouch shyly, his chirps muffled as he barked. The unicorn thought it was one of the most adorable things she had ever seen, though the mother did hiss at her a warning. She then went back to purchasing her vegetables while Emerald gave her a respectful distance and an apologetic smile.

She trotted on.

Following the instructions to the letter, she soon found herself facing a rather ordinary building with a simple sign over the door with the name of the business. The storefront windows had a lovely display of vibrant colors as freshly cut flowers were arranged in a variety of vases. Some were ceramic, others glass. A changeling filly was sweeping the walk with a wicker broom. She had to be no more than eleven or twelve years old. Another one, slightly older was re-arranging the flowers in the window. A very young colt was checking the plants for water as he buzzed about slowly on his wings, his face scrunched in concentration to his task.

A customer exited the store, smiling as a very large bouquet of roses was in his magical grasp. “Good luck on your date, Mr. Chip!” called out a friendly voice from within.

Emerald was not expecting this. Hatchlings were running the business? Where were the adults? She spent at least a half an hour watching the front of the store, not really wanting to go in as she had hoped to see who the proprietor was. This Wilda seemed a very important changeling. As it was, she had found a bench across the street and had settled into it, using the tourist map from the information center. After a while, the filly who had been sweeping the sidewalk came out of the store and cautiously made her way across the street and towards the unicorn.

“Ma’am, are you lost?” she asked timidly.

“No,” she said simply, smiling at the little filly.

“Why are you staring at our store?” She stayed a safe distance from the unicorn, staring at her right eye. Emerald made no effort to conceal her old injury.

“Debating.”

“Debating what?”

“Flowers.”

The filly blinked in confusion. “You can come in our store and see what we have. Are you afraid of us changelings? You wouldn’t be the first tourist to be afraid of us. They sometimes get lost and wind up here. Most run away. Why aren’t you running away?”

The unicorn shrugged. “I’m not afraid. I was also told if I go into your store, that I should buy something. I’m afraid I don’t know if I want to buy anything. It’s a nice, sunny day and you have pretty flowers in the window. So I am debating if I want to go into your store or not.”

“Oh,” said the filly, even more confused now. “Okay. See you.” She backed away from Emerald, her expression suggesting through her fake smile there was a crazy pony in the street.

After a while, Emerald decided the owner of the store was not going to present herself any time soon, which led her to believe she was not available. Her ploy to try and draw the mare out had been fruitless, but she was far from discouraged. There was plenty of time. She glanced up at the position of the sun, gauged the length of the shadows on the ground, and decided to head for the castle. The prince would be showing himself soon and she wanted to see him.

Author's Note

A little more depth for our story as we get some intrigue going into the mix!

Thoughts? Comments? Free money? I'll take it!

11. Mother and Son

Cadence looked sternly down at her son and his friend. Both were downcast and properly staring guiltily at the floor. She had sent the both of them to Reign Cloud’s room, apologizing profusely to the griffon ambassador as she shooed Reign into the hooves of one of the maids. A couple of hours later, she came in, composed, and was now glowering down at him in profound disappointment.

Maggie shuffled a bit closer to the prince, her poofy mane snaking around his shoulders more for self assurance than anything else.

“It was my idea!” she blurted after an agonizing passage of time.

Cadence did not move. Was she even breathing? Maggie wasn’t sure. She had looked up after her outburst to see the princess indeed had not moved an inch. Nor was she looking at the changeling filly. Her eyes were squarely on the colt she regarded as her own foal, her own flesh and blood.

Reign mumbled something. He hoofed at the floor weakly.

Cadence tilted her head to one side slightly, arching a brow. “What was that?” She hated taking this stance against her son. What he had done had embarrassed the crowns of two nations. The ambassador had waved it off, but Cadence knew griffons better. He had noticed the security breach.

The colt drooped his wings from his shoulders, his primaries splaying out on the floor. “You never let me do anything,” he said weakly.

Cadence sighed. “Maggie, I have sent for your mother,” she informed the filly. “You will wait for her in your room.”

Maggie blinked, her eyes going round with shock. “W-why?” she asked, her mane going straight behind her in alarm. “We...we just wanted to have s-s-some fun!” Tears formed in the corner of her eyes.

The princess wanted no more than to sweep the filly up into her hooves and just love her to death, but both children had done something very foolish. They would have to be punished. She was already sensing Reign’s temper beginning to rise. It was in his voice, his posture and how terribly quiet he had become. She did not want Maggie to be here when he did go off. Cadence already had an idea as to why her son had decided to listen in on a private conversation. Celestia was understanding, but it was also curious as to why her aunt had been so quick to out her nephew.

“I do not think you understand the consequences of what you and Reign did,” Cadence said to Maggie. Her attention went back to Reign. “Do as your told. Wilda should be here shortly.” The tone in voice was unmistakable and could not be disobeyed.

Maggie slinked out of the room in shame. “I’ll see you, Reigny,” she squeaked at the colt as she parted from him. A guard awaited her outside the door. She buzzed her insectoid wings nervously the whole way. Once the door was quietly closed behind her by Cadence’s aura, the room became silent for a while.

Cadence hated playing tough on her son. She despised making him feel small. She desperately thought of just smothering him with love and kisses, letting Shining Armor handle the tough love part. But, she needed to show she had to be stern when needed. It was for the best and it was important Reign know she loved him though she had to be hard when necessary. In this instance, she hated herself for having to punish Reign. He was not a bad pony. He was a very good one, but prone to making poor decisions.

She sighed, taking in the pitiful sight of her guilty colt staring at his forehooves, his shoulders and wings slumped. His small form was arched in submission and he was trembling.

Oh dear, she thought. “Reign?”

“Why can’t I have a normal life?” His voice rasped.

It’s beginning…

“Honey, we’ve spoken about this before,” she started, the hardness falling away from her tone. “Your health won’t allow you to—”

“It’s always that excuse!” exploded Reign Cloud, his head snapping up, fangs bared in a snarl. “I’m sick of being like this, Momma! It’s not fair! I can’t even go on carnival rides on my birthday! I can’t go out in public and play with other colts and fillies. It doesn’t matter if they’re ponies or changelings, I’m always too sick make friends! Everywhere I go, I have to have an escort—”

She interrupted him, “I know, Reign! I want what’s best for you. Your father wants what’s best for you. There will be a spell to cure you soon. The other alicorns have been working on it, but you have to give them time. They have the responsibilities of millions of ponies on their shoulders, as well as relationships to keep with other nations. There are researchers looking into your genetic defects—” Cadence stopped and immediately regretted that word, her hooves covering her mouth.

Reign stared at her, his lower lip quivering and eyes filling with tears.

“Oh, honey, I didn’t mean it that way,” she said in a mollifying tone.

“...I’m a defect?” Reign gurgled through a choked sob.

“Reign, no…”

“I’m going to die, Momma. Why are you trying to keep that truth from me?” It was on oddly pathetic sound coming from the colt, half shouting and half crying now as his rage melded with his despair. “I’ve told you how many times my body hurt and you always tell me everything’s going to be all right. Well, it’s not all right, Momma. You keep me in a cage and don’t let me spread my wings. What good are mine if I can’t use them?” He flapped his wings at his mother exaggeratedly, stamping his hooves in anger.

She moved towards him, her resolve gone as all she could see was her foal in pain right before her. “You’re not going to die!” she cried emphatically. Reign backed away, his tail between his legs.

“No!” he cried. “You’re going to lie to me again, like you always lie to me! I’m tired of living like this, Momma! This isn’t living! You don’t hear the other colts and fillies telling their mommas and poppas they hurt every day! I do hurt. I always hurt. I don’t know what it means to not hurt!”

“Come to me, my baby,” Cadence pleaded, her own tears streaking down her cheeks. She hated seeing Reign hurt like this. It had been a very long time since he had been this upset. As the Alicorn of Love, it hurt her on a spiritual level to sense such self-loathing from the Halfling.

“I just want to be normal, Momma!” he screamed. His mixed heritage warbled through a whinny and a hiss through his throat. Reign’s eyes flared with his innate magic and he could see his mother’s emotions flowing from her and towards him. They were colors he could not identify, but there was no other way to see them. It was as though sight had gone beyond the normal spectrum he was used to and instead it perceived in his vision a sort of extension of the spirit.

It was like seeing warmth and imagining the color orange. It confused the colt and stymied his anger. His senses had never done that before. He had always felt emotions, but he had never seen it before. It was as though he was seeing his mother’s soul for the first time. In that moment, he also felt something else through his vision within Cadence. It was smaller and...innocent?

Reign felt his emotions fall away and he simply began to sob, curling up into a ball. His perforated forelegs went over his muzzle as he bawled. He felt Cadence scoop him up and hold him tightly. His body ached and his head throbbed. What was it like to not be weak? What was it like to not feel pain? What was it like to not depend on Zeala and her potion for survival?

Cadence cooed at him with soothing sounds, wrapping her wings snugly around him and rocking back and forth like he was a newborn foal. It was so cruel for him to suffer like this, she thought. Zeala had crafted a trap. Cadence and Shining Armor had led Reign right into it without giving a chance to see if there were other methods of preserving the foal’s health. Their fear of his condition those years ago had led to the quick decision. Even Celestia had thought their action was prudent, given the circumstances.

Time and time again the alicorn had second guessed herself. Shining Armor was no different, as he himself was no stranger to magic. There had been many nights they held each other in bed and worried over Reign. If there had been more knowledge available in regards to Halflings, it had been destroyed long ago. None of the archives in Canterlot yielded more than a passing mention of the half breeds.

The Essence of Emotion had kept her son alive, if it could be called that. Grimly her mind wandered. The years had set within her the notion Zeala indeed had her own agenda. Would Reign’s birth mother have stood for it? As she soothed the colt, Cadence wondered, blinking away her own tears as she sought from within her resolve.

Queen Chrysalis was going to come for Reign Cloud. The ambassador had confirmed Cadence’s worst fears before Reign Cloud and Maggie had popped into existence before Celestia. Whatever civil conflict the changelings had been embroiled in, it had ended. The survivors were shifting their focus and were apparently united under this queen that was supposed to fail. Zeala would need to be warned. The alicorn had already figured out Reign had been dropped off for safe keeping. She had hoped the queen would fail, the darkest recesses within her heart begging faintly for her death.

Such thoughts —miniscule as they were— were abominable in Cadence’s eyes. She was the Alicorn of Love. Love was kindness and generosity. Love was protecting those selflessly and without reservation. Love was a citadel of light against the darkness beyond. Love was a formidable weapon, as strong and unshakable as the most powerful of magics. It was also a double edged sword.

Chrysalis had discovered the wrong side of love. Yet she had borne a son. Cadence had always felt a bit jealous the changeling had been able to provide for Shining Armor what she had yet been able to do herself.

Cadence broke her inner musings, realizing something her son was doing. He was manipulating her. Again. It was always subtle and even more so every time he did it. Most of the time, Reign was not even aware of what he was doing. If his birth mother were here, she more than likely be swelling with pride at this revelation. Still holding him in her grasp, she bent her muzzle to his ear.

“Very clever, Reign,” she murmured. The alicorn pulled back as the colt jolted. He craned his neck to look up at her. Sure enough, there was the faint telltale glow of his eyes. “How many times have I told you to control yourself?” The princess broke the hug, levitating her son with her magic and plopping him on his bed.

He looked away from her, ashamed.

“You have just made your punishment worse,” she went on, rising to her hooves. Flaring her wings, Cadence adjusted and settled them to her sides. The stern demeanor had returned, this time with more conviction. “I do not know if it’s instinct, but that should not matter. Perhaps I should schedule some lessons with Zeala for you on self control.”

Reign’s eyes snapped up and he stared at Cadence in undisguised horror. “No!”

“How many times have you tried to manipulate either myself or your father? Hmm? How many times have I explicitly told you good colts do not try to bend the wills of others to their whims? Not only do you defy social decorum by listening in on private conversations, but I just now have my own son trying to divert my mind from the fact he is in a lot of trouble and is trying to avoid punishment?” She strode towards Reign, her tone never rising. Cadence was angry, but she was firmly in control of herself and the situation. The unhappiness flowed from her words. Upon those words rode profound disappointment. With her chastisement followed the expectation of being a good pony.

Princess Celestia had taught her well.

One look and she knew what was thought to be crocodile tears had been replaced by real ones. Oh, he had a grim resolve about him, Cadence noted, fighting to keep a small smile at bay. Keeping her emotions in check around Reign was becoming more and more difficult these days with him growing into his heritage. Deciding her assessment was too stern, the princess thought her initial assessment genuine emotions and inadvertent manipulation.

“No crocodile tears,” she said to herself. Reign was looking up at her with trepidation. To him, she said with a sigh, “Honey, you are right. Your father and I both place a lot of restrictions upon you. They are necessary.” Cadence sat on the bed next to him. Her voice was slow and steady as she attempted to soothe her agitated colt.

Reign scootched away from her, refusing to meet her gaze. The colt sniffled miserably.

Figuring out Reign Cloud has become increasingly more and more difficult with each passing year, Cadence thought as she gave him a moment to get used to her sitting next to him. Then, she scooted closer. He curled up into a sitting ball of fluff and chitin, his perforated legs curling under him in a loafing position. Reign still refused to look at his mother, even going so far as to lean away from her.

She sighed. At least he wasn’t jumping out of the bed and telling her to stay away from him. “Honey, I am going to sit down with your father and I am going to talk to him about your punishment. You do know you are not where you need to be, right?”

Reign Cloud still refused to look at her.

“Look at me.”

He curled himself into a tighter ball. Tears were still streaming down his face, though nowhere near the torrent from moments ago. An ear had swiveled and was fixed on her voice, so he was listening.

“You are grounded.”

“Momma!” he blurted, whipping his head around and splaying his ears back.

“Do not interrupt,” she scolded. Cadence took her left wing and swung in out in front of her, taking one of her primaries and grasping Reign’s chin. Turning his face to meet hers, her hold was soft, yet firm. She avoided using her magic specifically for the sake of physical contact. Reign needed to know he was in trouble, but she still loved him. As went through the motion with her wing, she sidled next to her son and before he knew it, had her other wing over his back, pulling him close. She had already assumed a maternal formalness in her voice.

“Now, you will be confined to your room for a month.”

The colt mumbled something, snorting.

“What was that?”

“It’s not much different than how I live now, Mother.”

It is just the anger. It is just the anger. Let it go. Let it go. The princess gave herself a half a breath. “I’m not finished. I am going to ask Wilda if she and her family can take you in for that month.”

Reign swung his head and peered at her with wild hope in his eyes.

“But!” Cadence held up a hoof. “You will be watched. You will be guarded. If you so much as sneeze or sniffle or even complain, you will be brought back here.”

“You mean it?” Reign squeaked.

“Do not be so eager, my son,” she told him, shifting into princess mode usually reserved for when she gave out a decision during Day Court. “Wilda is a stern mistress in her house. You will work. You will earn your keep. You might even make friends with her brood. There are many, if you remember.” A flicker of a smile touched the corners of her mouth.

“I do.” Tears had been forgotten now. A sense of hope had sparked.

“She is considered a queen, Reign. The other changelings in the city love and revere her. She likes her common station. She likes her status. She has worked very hard to be respected among her peers. Wilda is hard and she is fair. You have met her enough to know the sort of changeling she is.” Cadence stroked her son with her wing, feeling his tension fade from his little form.

“Why the change?” Reign asked her. “I thought you were going to punish me.”

Cadence laughed lightly. “Oh, Reign! Honey, I understand I have been restrictive. Your father is paranoid about your safety. As much as I hate going behind his back, I have had to compromise with him. I do not want my son to resent his parents. I love you and your father loves you. We want you to understand that.”

“What if Wilda says no?”

Cadence hummed thoughtfully. “Well, if she does deny my request to board you, then I suppose I might have to send you to Canterlot and stay with...Prince Blueblood. He is my distant cousin, if you recall.”

“Momma! He hates me!”

“Well, you had better hope Wilda accepts having you under her roof then, should you not?” Cadence allowed herself a smirk, having reversed the manipulation.

“What do you want me to do?”

The Alicorn of Love rolled her eyes thoughtfully to the ceiling. “Well, for starters, I want you to apologize to the ambassador. Then I want you to apologize to your aunts. After that, I want you to apologize to your father for making him take up the duties I specifically asked you to attend to on this day. You were supposed to be greeting the colts and fillies tonight, were you not? The party is going to continue for another three hours. Your father is not entirely a happy stallion at the moment.”

Mutely, Reign nodded in shame.

“I also want you to apologize to all the colts and fillies who came to wish you a happy birthday and to thank you for throwing a party for them. That was quite rude and perhaps the one thing I am most disappointed in you about. Not because of the severity, but because you promised me you would stay until the end of the public greetings with them and their families. Some came up from Equestria with the hopes of meeting a prince their age.”

“I’m sorry,” he croaked, fresh tears forming. “Can we talk about something else? I feel bad.”

“Will you apologize to everypony you offended?” Cadence nuzzled him as she spoke.

“Yeah.”

“Have I been spending enough time with you?” she asked, shifting the topic as he wanted. Her nuzzling had not subsided.

Reign was, for the most part, an honest colt. He had been raised to be so. However, tact was not one of his strong points. “No,” he sniffed, wiping a hoof over his now runny nose.

Cadence thought he looked adorable at that moment. Oh, she could tell him so, but the colt would be seriously offended. Instead, she squee’d and hugged him tightly. “I want to gobble you up!”

Distractions made her terrible at sticking to disciplining her colt. Shining Armor’s job as father entailed him to also be the enforcer of punishments levied against Reign.

Reign Cloud felt the crush of his mother’s love and went with it with an “urk!”. He was already gorging on this sudden influx from Cadence and it was making him feel wonderfully light headed. He hoped she was distracted enough to escape doing anything other than apologize. Being told of living for a month at Maggie’s house was completely unexpected! A thought occurred to him.

“Momma?” he managed through her Hug of Motherly Death.

She nuzzled him some more. “Yes?”

“Am I going to be grounded in a room of Wilda’s choosing?”

“Yes. Yes you are, my intelligent little colt.”

“What if it is a broom closet?”

“Then I suppose you’ll know you will be expected to clean every day, Reign.” Cadence began to rock him back and forth, humming tunelessly.

He frowned at that idea. “Is Wilda going to enforce my punishment?”

“I’ll point her in the right direction, but yes. I think you have been neglecting your changeling heritage. It will be good for you to experience certain other aspects of your uniqueness.” Cadence resumed her humming. There was several seconds of nothing but her humming. Then, she noted, “You should learn how a changeling household is run. It will be a wonderful experience for you.”

Reign again found himself frowning in his mother’s hug. He liked Wilda, but she was never around long enough for him to really get to know her. Maggie insisted the giant changeling was very nice and was always teaching her brothers and sisters how to be good changelings. She was as charismatic as Zeala, but far less creepy. Wilda was big, he noted, bigger than his mother. She was probably even bigger than Aunt Celestia. Her fangs were impressive and she always was looking around with a certain predatory glint in her eyes that made Reign feel safe around her. His main concern was the few times some of her brood was with her, their movements reminded the Halfling of a small army heeding the commands of a general who took backtalk as an act of treason.

“She has been dying for a chance to have you,” Cadence went on, breaking the hug and allowing Reign to breathe.

This was true. Wilda had motherly eyes for Reign. He had asked Maggie about it and she told him her mother was like that with any colt or filly, be they foal or nymph. She was an indiscriminate mother.

“I’ll run it by your father. He will agree. I’ll make sure of that,” Cadence said impishly. “Wilda will jump at the idea. We have discussed it many times before. There will need to be arrangements made.” She was thoughtful, her grip on her colt loosening. “Now, I’d imagine the real reason why you wanted to listen in on a private conversation is still foremost in your mind, hmm?”

“You mean...you’ll tell me?” Reign Cloud thought Cadence was going to avoid the subject.

She shrugged. “I don’t see why not. It was bound to happen eventually. Your father and I are convinced she will come for you.”

The colt jolted in her hooves. “What?” A thousand questions filled his mind. He became fearful. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” Cadence admitted. “My best guess is she wants her foal back.”

Reign blinked incredulously. “Why? What is she to me? You’re my mother.”

Cadence beamed at him, shifting from princess mother mode to simply mom. “And you’re my colt. What do you want to know about your birth mother? No matter what you think of her, she did give birth to you and she did bring you to me.”

Technically this was not true. The changeling queen had left Reign as a foal in the care of the clergy. No doubt she expected Shining Armor to take charge of his son. Cadence would not admit it openly to anypony other than her aunts or her husband, but she was terrified the queen would forcibly take Reign Cloud. It also gave her pause in her decision to put her son in Wilda’s hooves.

“I don’t want to go with her. She sounds like a monster,” Reign said plainly to her, shivering at the thought. “I heard what the ambassador said. She sounds scary.”

The alicorn lit up her horn. A dossier appeared in front of her nose. “The ambassador gave me this. It’s your mother’s file.”

Reign scrutinized it. “It’s not very thick,” he noted dejectedly. His ears betrayed his eagerness to see what lay within.

Cadence allowed herself a wry grin. “Oh, there’s more here than you think. The ambassador does have a name, dear. You might need to remember it when you also apologize for biting him.”

The colt’s ears splayed back and in shame. “He scared me,” he muttered defensively.

“Well dear, Ambassador Seeadler wanted to have a good look at you. Griffons have terrible near vision unless they have special eyeglasses. Their eyes are best at long distance. He also wanted to become familiar with your scent. Some griffons have a tremendous sense of smell. Your sudden appearance thanks to Aunt Celestia made him instantly very curious about you.” She waved the folder in front of him and added, “Seeadler was very eager to see if you would be interested once he found out our ‘Chrysalis’ was the same queen who bought his emperor. So…” She gave him a knowing look. “Curious?”

“Shouldn’t Poppa be here?”

Cadence nudged the base of his ear with her chin softly. “Oh, this is for you, dear. You have a right to know. Shining would love to be here, but he already knows what’s going on. Don’t worry! He’ll hold down the fort for a little bit longer. I think a lot of your actions are due in part to me not spending a lot of time with you.”

Reign felt better and squirmed as he giggled from his mother’s touch. Instinctively he snuggled up against her side and under a wing, his punishment for the moment forgotten. Memories of biting Ambassador Seeadler on the beak was still fresh in his mind. His fangs still had a dull ache to them. The griffon had a very heavy beak.

“Now, let’s discover what the griffons know about ‘Chrysalis’, “ Cadence announced to her Halfling son. She pried open the document with her magic and began removing the pages within.There were copies of the photographs from earlier, plus a few others and maybe fifteen pages of written documentation to go with it.

As she sorted through them to a semblance of order she thought easiest, Reign cocked his head to one side, regarding her as she worked with swift diligence. “Are you still afraid of her, Momma?”

Cadence slowed and gave him a smile and a glance before resuming. “Maybe a bit more than I would like to admit. It was a long time ago and she did catch me completely by surprise. You’ve heard the story.”

“So...this is just as much for yourself as it is for me?” Reign guessed.

She gave him a look that spoke volumes. “Sometimes I wonder if you picked up more of your aunt’s traits than your father’s,” she mused.

Reign said nothing, but wondered if he would be punished further if he admitted there were hidden places in the castle where he had heard her speaking her concerns to Shining Armor some nights. There had been more than one conversation in regards to the changeling queen. It usually happened after meeting Zeala. The priestess really was capable of making the two ponies recall the disastrous wedding. It was the only time he would ever hear them arguing and the only time he had ever heard his mother cry. There were still scars that refused to heal.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized, curling into a ball.

Cadence sighed. “Don’t apologize for being observant, Reign. You’re a good pony.” She smirked and added ruefully, “Most of the time.”

The colt sighed, turning his attention to the information on his birth mother. His curiosity was aroused. Cadence hoofed the photographs down to him on the bed. With an excited gasp, his eyes hungrily went over them, holding the stack before his muzzle. Reign froze as though time had given him a reprieve, the only movement his eyes as they slowly walked up and down the first photo.

His birth mother was savage grace in predatory form. The photo was almost a decade old, but the black and white image was clear and full of exquisite detail. She stood tall and proud as she greeted the griffon emperor as an equal, as tall as Celestia and just as imposing. Her crooked horn stood out from the center of her forehead, looking like a dagger with round gouges carved out of it. Her wispy mane was long and straight, caught in the gentle breeze of that day. Her perforated legs were eye magnets. Her form was haughty, proud. Reign thought there was scarring on her belly just in front of her right hind leg, as well as several lesser injuries on her chitin. Her smile was formal, barely enough for show, but her fangs gleamed. It was as though the lighting had been just perfect, catching one of them in a glint that reflected off the camera lens. Her large eyes were heavy lidded, as though she knew she had the upper hoof. She was looking into the unflinching eyes of the griffon emperor. The changeling queen made the griffon look small, though she was easily half the massive lion bird’s size. He was cowed by her!

As he began going through the pictures, Cadence took a moment to glare at the drawn curtains in the room. There was supposed to be light in here! Reign was always shunning the sunlight. With a flick of her horn, she drew them all open at once, letting in the late afternoon light flood the room with its amber hue.

“Momma!” protested Reign, looking up in consternation from his perusing.

“You need sunlight!” she said, indifferent to his protests. “Growing colts need sunshine.”

He snorted. “I’m not a tree!” Reign went back to the photos, already losing interest in the topic. His blue eyes assumed a look of curious wonder. His hooves shuffled to the next photo.

Cadence read through the intelligence gathered on Chrysalis. There were several names they had for her: The Iron Maiden. Die schwarze Königin; the Black Queen. Goldene Stimme; the Golden Voice. Different griffon lords and generals had offered up their own assessment of the changeling queen. All of them were deathly afraid of her. Cadence suspected a lot of suggestion magic had been used. Changelings were not, to her knowledge, prone to direct confrontations with other species. Griffons were a fierce race. It made even less sense to provoke them. Yet…

The alicorn raised an eyebrow as she read of the fears. There were too many questions. Where did the queen get the gold to buy off the Empire? She had next to nothing, barely a kingdom at the time. Even that had crumbled and was being fought over by other queens. The only thing she could think of to supply an undocumented amount of gold would be a dragon horde.

Would a changeling queen challenge a dragon for its horde? Or would she sneak up on it and catch it unawares? Given that tactic was used, how would a creature one one hundredth the size of a full-grown dragon slay it for its treasure? Adult dragons were nigh invulnerable to anything save other dragons. It would be impossible to think even a changeling queen at full power could do much more than annoy one of the great wyrms.

Unless the excuse given by Ambassador Seeadler was not in itself the truth to begin with. What if there was something else agreed to in this unlikely pact? Ten years was a long time for a nation to seal its borders and keep all but heavily watched trade routes blocked. How was such a thing possible? How was it nothing had gotten out? No law could bind all griffons.

Cadence thought to ask Twilight her opinion on the matter. Right now she had not enough information and nothing but wild speculation on partial information that was sparse at best. Perhaps a word with her aunts before they headed home tomorrow night might shed some light. The alicorn thought it was very likely there would never be a complete answer. Griffons were a secretive lot and kept to themselves for the most part. Being predators naturally made other sapient species suspicious of them. So long as there was no hunting of sapient beings, few were even bothered to poke their noses in griffon affairs and politics.

No, those were questions to ask at another time. Right now, it was quite possible Chrysalis was already in the Crystal City, plotting to steal Cadence’s little treasure. After so many years, they would inevitably meet again. Of this, the Alicorn of Love was certain.

She was determined to turn the tables on the queen this time.

However, there was the matter of Priestess Zeala. The thin changeling rarely emerged from her completed temple these days. She ventured out on changeling religious festivals and blessed changeling marriages. Besides the additional monthly visits to give Reign Cloud his medicine, she was more or less a recluse. This struck Cadence as odd. Religious leaders, she thought, were supposed to be seen in public often. They were supposed to be leaders anyling could turn to for guidance or advice. Her acolytes filled the roles of doting shepherds over their flocks, but Zeala was said to confine herself within the doors of her chambers. Igor, her most faithful servant, always growled she was always there and would see no one without an appointment.

Cadence suspected the changeling was up to something. Zeala did send her missives, letting the princess know what it was she was doing. The priestess claimed she was bent towards gathering those changelings who found themselves without homes and enticing them to join the splinter colony existing peacefully within the Crystal Empire. With the alicorn’s blessing, Zeala insisted upon giving despondent changelings a chance to live out from under the shadows of warlike queens and bask in the glory of peace and harmony.

The princess hoped Zeala was doing just that, as the priestess had done nothing to suggest otherwise. In all honesty, she had done nothing to make Cadence suspicious. She respected Reign’s dislike for her and did nothing to try and swing his opinion of her to something more favorable.

Breaking from her thoughts, Cadence set aside the papers and smiled at her son. “Shall we have dinner in here?” she asked Reign. “What do you feel like?”

He looked up at her, smiling hugely. “Can we have macaroni and cheese?”

“Why, I believe we can have macaroni and cheese!”

Author's Note

Precious mother and son time! Lots of reveals! Lots of wat! (how'd that get in there?)

Thanks to Magic Man for helping me spot the tpyos!

If you spot any, blame him. :trollestia:

12. Haggling Mares

Zeala awoke grumpily to the sound of someling banging noisily on her door. In her undignified sleeping position, her face was squashed against her pillow and her bottom stuck up in the air. With a wet snort, she jerked up from the jumbled mass of blankets and sheets, still damp from her exertions during the night. The lump lying next to her mumbled incoherently from beneath the covers, a holed hoof reaching out and grabbing more and pulling it tightly to the unseen form.

“What?” she demanded tersely. “What?!”

The banging went on unabated, rapidly and very, very annoying.

“Stop besieging on the door, you idiot!” she snarled, sliding out of bed with the grace of a drunken sailor. Walking funny on still wobbly legs, she made her way to the door. It was still being pounded on as though the sanctum was on fire. She flared her horn, grabbing hold of her bedmate, flipping the unfortunate from the bed. “Get up!” Zeala snapped at the unwitting victim of her provoked ire.

There was a surprised grunt and a cry of consternation. A young male changeling peeked fearfully from the other side of the bed, rubbing the back of his head with a hoof. “What was that for?” he simpered.

“For not answering the door, you lazy little bug.” Zeala spat before turning the door handle and yanking it open with an indignant flare of magic from her horn.

Igor was still there, now banging on empty air. He noticed his hoof was no longer impacting wood and looked to where the door had been. He found the priestess glaring down at him, her mane disheveled and an interesting scent wafting off her body. If he was afraid of the look of war upon her face, his own disfigurement did well to hide it.

“Well?” she grunted sourly.

“My priestess!” he crowed up at her adoringly. “Your scheduled appointment will be here within the hour! Must make ready! Yes. You must look good and beautiful! Must look nice for guest. You said so yourself. Igor does as he is told and tells his mistress of her duties.”

Zeala sighed. “Very well. What have I told you about knocking on the door ceaselessly?”

“Mistress Zeala does not answer the door within the necessary knocks. Igor must knock more in order for you to answer. Mistress procrastinates, Igor thinks.”

The priestess nodded. Murder crossed her mind for a brief moment. “I shall be out soon.” She then slammed the door in Igor’s face.

“As mistress commands!” his muffled voice replied.

Her overnight companion was gathering up the covers, grumpily staring at her as the lean mare made her way to a finely made dresser with a glossy finish. “Was my lady happy with my performance last night?” he asked, his visage changing to something more hopeful.

She cast a brief glance at him. “It was adequate, child.” Zeala shook out her mane, noting it was sticking in places. “Better than I expected. You have earned a little something extra, I should think. You shall return when I have need of you. Tell your handler this.”

The dark changeling lit up her horn and lifted the smaller changeling and brought him to her. As he hovered, he curled into a ball of fear when he saw the gleam in her eye. The trembling colt wondered what it was he had done wrong.

“However,” she hissed, pressing her snout into his, “I will not stand for anyling raising their voice at me.” Zeala brought up a hoof and slapped him squarely across the cheek. The resounding smack was music to her ears. “Do I make myself clear?”

He nodded through the tears welling up in his eyes. “I’m sorry!” The colt was unceremoniously dropped. “Forgive me, priestess!”

Zeala harrumphed. “Show this writ to one of my acolytes,” she said, producing a small scroll bound with a bit of green ribbon from a dresser drawer. It was filled with similar documents. She tossed it at the colt’s hooves. “You will be paid and escorted out. Learn from this experience. The only reason I do not beat you is because you pleased me last night. Now, go!”

Nodding gratefully and relief at being released, the changeling scooped up the scroll and darted out the door, too afraid to even whimper.

Zeala watched him leave, her expression one of cruel satisfaction. Her attention shifted to a bellpull near her bed. She yanked on it with a hoof and three changelings materialized in the blink of an eye from a hidden door. They were clad in white robes. They were all pretty mares, each one a hopeful at becoming a priestess one day. Adoring eyes were raised upon the High Priestess as they awaited her commands eagerly.

“Clean this room up. Change the sheets. Get my bath ready. I shall have breakfast within ten minutes. I want to smell of lilacs. Bring me sweet wine. Prepare my fine robes. I have an important guest coming. See to it everything is perfect. Am I clear?”

“Yes, priestess!” they intoned in one voice. The priestess did not give them a look, knowing she would be obeyed without question.

She sauntered towards her private bath, a chamber nearly as large and opulent as her bedroom. One of her initiates was already drawing her bath, having darted ahead and using her magic to heat the water. The robed changeling dabbed at the surface of the water, scrunching her muzzle in concentration as she knew her mistress’ preferences.

The tiled floors spoke of expensive tastes, the white walls bore a pearly sheen. There were no windows, for Zeala abhorred the outdoors and feared such openness. The slender changeling tested the water and found the trainee to be competent. As she went into the in ground tub, the robed changeling ignited a series of globes set in the floor and seen through thick glass. They maintained the water temperature, requiring mana to function. Only the very wealthy could afford such amenities and Zeala considered herself deserving of such things.

She sunk to her chin in the water, her nostrils catching the scent of the flowers she preferred. Fresh petals began to float about her and a soothing powder was swirled into her bath. She felt her skin and chitin react wonderfully. Gentle hooves went through her mane, lathering it up with lilac shampoo (imported from Prance). Zeala felt her scalp being massaged. Groaning in pleasure, she closed her eyes and leaned into the ministrations.

“Your wine, High Priestess,” called out a voice softly.

Cracking an eye open, Zeala smiled, flashing her fangs. “What did you bring me?” she asked.

“Mulberry wine, priestess,” came the reply.

The changeling frowned slightly. Mulberry wine was not her favorite. It was tolerable, but surely there was something better in her personal stores. “What of the blueberry?” she asked icily.

The changeling she spoke to flinched. “The last bottle was opened last night, High Priestess!" she babbled apologetically. "More was ordered weeks ago, but has not arrived. It is—”

She was suddenly hurled back by an invisible slap of considerable force. Zeala glared at the shocked and ashamed acolyte-to-be. “You are dismissed,” she growled, taking up the glass and filling it with wine. Zeala sipped at the glass and found the taste delightfully sweet to her palate. Recalling the last time she had tried mulberry wine failed her memory. Perhaps slapping the child might have been a bit much. Giving a single, indifferent shrug, the priestess took another sip, noticing something amiss.

“Who told you to stop scrubbing?” she asked archly.

The lathering resumed in earnest.

Within thirty minutes, the priestess was bathed and fed. She had a touch too much wine already, as she carried a giddy feeling and felt warm as she drained her fifth glass. Zeala made it a point to meet certain guests with just enough alcohol in her to maintain a somewhat pleasant disposition. When she was sober, she could be quite arrogant. The changeling understood herself enough to know imbibing in spirits to a degree loosened her personality enough to make her tolerable.

High Priestess Zeala was a sober bitch. A bit soused, and she might be a bit more amiable to company. She knew this and practiced it with an almost religious devotion. Her minions all prayed for her to have a touch of drunkenness to be even remotely sociable and less abusive. It was an odd switch, where alcohol made for an individual to be more pleasant to be with.

Zeala was dressed in plain robes of dark blue with touched of gold embroidery to show her rank about her hood and along the hem of her billowing sleeves. As was custom, she drew her hood up, it’s edge snuggled tightly around the base of her horn and exposing her smooth features and nearly flawless complexion.

Save for a tiny, almost unnoticeable scar upon her muzzle.

She had stared at the blemish moments after her bath while she was attended to and dressed. How she hated the little bastard who had bitten her! Zeala would love nothing more than to slowly mete out her revenge and she had done so for the past decade. Using her influential magic; so subtle and covert, Zeala had coaxed out from Shining Armor and Princess Cadence their instincts to protect the foal to the point of overriding their common sense. It was in the perfume she had used, the food and drink she had served them. Influences to push her selected targets into seeing reason into her words and actions.

No, she did not have the power of a changeling matriarch like a queen, nor even a brood mother, but Zeala was perhaps one of the most brilliant manipulators of the past come to the present. It kept her in power and enabled the ambitions within her thoughts to find fruit in a world a thousand years removed from what she had once knew.

King Sombra had appreciated her talents, recognizing them for what they could do for him. The fallen tyrant had once praised her methods, lavishing upon her all the things he gave to those loyal to him.

He had been an animal in bed.

Zeala flushed in the memory as she looked away from the mirror. She sighed, knowing her king would never return, banished to the nether void, another number added to the unending list of the dead. There were still his plans, his experiments and his written knowledge to mark his legacy. The priestess intended to see to it one of his more ambitions plans of revenge saw the light of day.

It took ten years for the spell itself to manifest the moment it was cast. It had been channeling, drawing from the emotions of a lifeforce, a certain target with special conditions met. It was not the perfect choice, but it had suited Zeala’s needs well enough to be considered a gift for her to exploit. The priestess intended to be the instrument of her fallen king’s revenge and to set in motion a chain of events that would ripple from one end of the world to the other.

At least, that was what she had in mind. There were doubts in her mind, of course. Sombra had been quite insane, trying for years to bend the magic of the Crystal Heart to his will, willingly going to war against the Sisters and denying them a final victory by cursing an entire kingdom to a thousand years of nonexistence.

Still...there were other matters to attend to. Other plans had to be set in motion. Potential problems had to be addressed and dealt with. Zeala had worked very hard to ensure everything was in place. What she was doing kept her in a precarious place as it was. Holding the trust and faith of the changelings was first and foremost, but having an alicorn ruler had become something of an unexpected obstacle. That alicorn being essentially Love Incarnate caused quite a few ulcers for the thin changeling.

Manipulating Princess Cadence was something of a thrill for Zeala. It was dangerous to toy with such living power. She refused to cave in to the pink exterior of her monarch, the perfect beauty the ponies fawned over. Cadence was a recently ascended immortal still growing into her station. She was keen on sensing the emotions of others, though nowhere near the level of, say a changeling queen.

Given time, she would be able to do even more as she became more and more comfortable and familiar with her innate talents.

Zeala could not have that. No, she had something special planned for Cadence. There were few things in the world that could challenge the power of the Princess of Love. The greatest threats had been dealt with long ago by Celestia and Luna as they cleared the way for their growing population of beloved ponies.

Yet more seemingly dead threats seemed to pop up.

Zeala had one in mind. One that had taken time and effort to cultivate. One that required a living, unwitting host. Only Sombra’s evil mind could come up with such a monstrous scheme. Zeala had decided to use it for her own purposes. It would fill in the power she lacked and give her the edge she believed she would need in order to grasp power she wanted for her own.

Still, there were other matters to attend to. All of her work and diligence for the past decade would soon bear fruit. There was just one more thing she needed to put in motion before the month was out.

She ghosted from her personal chambers and into a narrow hallway. Torches lined the walls and gave a ruddy, flickering light. The priestess ascended a stone spiral staircase, two hopefuls behind her. Changelings were most comfortable underground. There was security and comfort. Most homes around the Crystal Empire with a changeling family within it could boast underground living facilities no different from homes ponies made. The temples main sanctum was the first floor, the offices comprising the second. Above, everything was vaulted. Below the ground, save for the high priestess’ personal quarters, everything was compact and low.

She made her way to her private office, looking off her followers with a knowing glare and a hiss. Igor was already inside, making sure everything was spotless. He was a doting fool, she noted while he dusted off her chair. Completely devoted to her, the hunchback still managed to not absolutely fawn over her, saying cryptic and flippant things to her regardless of her temper.

Igor absolutely loved her, even without influence.

“Well?” she demanded archly, spreading her hooves askew and glaring at him. “Are you not finished? Is my office not clean? Why do you dally?”

“All is in readiness, mistress!” he chirped, one eye enlarging as he looked up at her. His useless wings buzzed cheerfully beneath his tattered robes.

“It will do,” she noted with a snort, splaying her ears as if on swivels. “Leave me and await the arrival of my guest.”

“Igor has schedule,” said the crippled changeling, waving a partially crumpled parchment in one hoof. He always kept one somewhere within the folds of his clothing. “Many eggs need blessings. Many mothers want blessings for their eggs. Igor said you would bless the eggs and the mothers. Igor told you last night and has reminded you for past week. Igor do his duty. Igor does this to please the mistress.”

Being the Priestess of Love had its unfortunate drawbacks. Bestowing blessings of love over unhatched eggs and their expectant mothers was such a chore. Oh, she tried and tried to persuade changelings to see to the Temples of the Sun and Moon respectively...they were always looking for converts and whatnot. Alas, too many changelings wanted the old ways and were just too damned loyal to the Emotions.

Damn loyalists… Zeala sighed and assumed her chair, settling in comfortably while Igor made his way out on shuffling hooves. “No cancellations,” she told the fading changeling. Gods know I have to maintain this insufferable image for a while longer.

The hunchback grinned over his misshapen shoulder at her. “Good! Good! Igor make all things ready. Make sure everything is clean. Fresh candles! Yes! Acolytes will do what Igor tells them because Igor has the voice of the mistress!”

The door shut behind him with a flick of Zeala’s horn. She let out an exasperated sigh of frustration and wondered why she had not disposed of the broken fool long ago. The changeling pushed back her hood and began to rummage through her desk drawers. She found the hunchback had restocked her liquors and polished the glassware. Everything was immaculate.

Still, everything had to be perfect. One of the most dangerous beings she had ever associated with was scheduled to meet her within minutes. The services of this visitor had been called upon before. It had been a long time. So long as the bits were good…

Nervously she waited. An eternity passed. Zeala gnawed on her lower lip, wondering if she was putting too much stock in her plans. No, she shook such thoughts from her mind and focused on how far she had come. Too much was at stake. Lord Sombra was watching her. He had to be. All the things he had shown her had been for a reason. His reasonings were sound in her mind. They were perfect. Immutable.

Zeala could still hear his deep, masculine voice tickling her ear and feel his hot breath caressing her cheek.The closeness of his body to hers was now a memory, but one she relived over and over again. She had been his in body and mind, her heart given over completely to him. He had placed her above the other changelings; chose her to stand at his side, to be his shadow, the dream of being his gorgeous, loving Queen. Her only regret was her inability to give him a foal. It would have cemented her place at her king’s side and given her a piece of him to always cherish.

There was a soft knock at her door, breaking the priestess from her inner musings. “Come,” she bade. Zeala straightened herself and smoothed out some of her mane, checking for wrinkles in her robe.

The door swung open and Igor ushered in a hooded figure in a non descriptive brown cloak. She could make out a horn and a light smile adorning a dark muzzle as a word of quiet thanks was given to the misshapen changeling. He bobbed his head at her and quietly left the newcomer alone with Zeala.

“Were you seen?” she asked the newcomer, arching a brow and flicking an ear.

“Of course I was not seen,” came the flippant reply. The voice was familiar, bearing the same tone of self confidence. “None are expecting me to be here and I have eyes everywhere, Zeala. I don’t know why I responded to your request, but here I am. I considered it would do no harm to hear your proposal.”

“Come and join me,” Zeala prompted, indicating a chair in front of her desk. “No unwanted ears can hear us. No unseen eyes can see us. Remove your hood and let us talk business. I understand you have had quite a busy career. You are a difficult mare to get a hold of.”

With a toss of her head, the visitor revealed her lovely features marred by a scarred right cheek and missing eye. A softly glowing pearly orb sat in place of the original eye. A single green eye settled on the changeling and with a blink, shifted into a harlequin iris. Beneath the cloak, green flames enveloped the unicorn’s body, revealing a taut form of lean muscle and sinew. The beauty was still there, but the changeling assassin before Zeala showed the marks of a hard life of no regrets. The fire in the one remaining eye spoke of a zeal Zeala found in fewer and fewer changelings these days.

“How is life as Emerald Spire, Shuriken?” Zeala asked conversationally as her guest set herself comfortably. “Such a cover must mean doing quite a bit to conceal your true identity.” She eyed the pearl set in the socket speculatively.

“It not an unenjoyable modeling career. It made for a very satisfying cover,” replied Emerald with a passable smile and an indifferent shrug. “I used my wealth from that job...as well as my other line of work to build up for a comfortable retirement. Refer to me by that name, if you will. Shuriken no longer exists.”

“I didn’t know assassins retired,” noted the priestess carefully. There was a very dangerous monster sitting across from her. The reputation of Shuriken marked her as an individual to be handled with the utmost of respect, even if she despised her. “Care for a drink?”

“Thank you, no. Let us get down to business.” The assassin tilted her head slightly to one side. “You were less than happy with the results ten years ago. Why would you request my services again if I did not fulfill the contract we agreed upon?”

Zeala smiled and leaned back. “Oh, you did more or less as I expected, Emerald. You wore down a queen enough so she could come to me in her time of need. You denied her a chance to rest and consider other options. You planted the idea of seeking out the Crystal Empire as a refuge for her son. I would have given you a bonus if you had managed to kill her. Such a thing was almost within your grasp.” She poured herself a glass of brandy, having already offered her guest. Taking a polite sip, she regarded the changeling. “The last I saw you, you had two eyes. I would imagine there is a story behind it.”

“Not all marks can be easily taken,” replied the assassin with a shrug. “I wish to retire soon and take care of personal affairs. Perhaps a vineyard on the slopes of a dormant volcano.”

“Tsk. Tsk,” clucked Zeala as she set her glass down. “One such as yourself does not simply retire from your line of work. Your skills will always be in demand. There are few finer than you and even fewer who would be even worth my efforts to contact.”

“The changeling civil wars are over,” snorted Emerald as she shifted in her sitting position. Her eye drifted at the objects on the shelves on one side of the room. “Soon there will be some sort of peace as the dust settles. Our mutual friend survived everything thrown at her. If you even suggest she is to be targeted again, I am afraid I must decline.”

The priestess hefted her glass, staring through it and at the assassin. “You seem a bit different than from when I last met you,” she said.

Emerald became speculative. “The years can change a mare,” came the mysterious reply.

“That is true, I suppose.” Zeala thought something was amiss about the assassin. But, she did bring up a valid point. “A change of perspective, I warrant?”

“Something like that,” said Emerald with a fanged grin. “Now, tell me your proposal and I’ll decide if it’s worth hearing more of. We’ll start with the price and go from there.”

Zeala’s left eye twitched. Composing herself, she uttered, “Fifty million bits.”

Emerald smirked. “Go on. We can haggle as we go.”

“Foalnapping,” the priestess said evenly.

“Who?”

The slender changeling smiled. “Prince Reign Cloud.”

“Two hundred million bits,” came the reply without so much as a flinch.

Zeala could barely choke back her shock. “What? That’s outrageous!” she thundered, slamming a hoof on her desk top.

The assassin snorted. “I am only matching your proposal with one just as ludicrous.”

The priestess composed herself quickly. “He will not be within the palace grounds for the next month,” she said through clenched fangs.

“How did you come to this information?” Emerald asked with professional curiosity.

A dry chuckle escaped from the religious leader’s thin lips. “I have eyes and ears near the throne.”

That one single emerald eye bore into hers and narrowed. “Where, then?”

“The home of a brood mother. Apparently the princess thought an education in the prince’s changeling heritage would be beneficial. I am inclined to agree as this represents a wonderful opportunity to get in and take Rein Cloud.” Zeala refilled her glass. “No guards. None that can be seen, anyhow. No doubt Shining Armor will keep tabs on his only son. There will be a few hidden eyes.”

Emerald was impressed, if for but a half a moment. “A brood mother? Oh, they are rare. And they are very protective of their brood. Fanatically so. Cadence was wise to choose one to teach her adopted son of our heritage. Ah, that is the reason, yes?" —she noted the nod from the changeling priestess— "However, I need details, Zeala. You have me intrigued. Now allow me to determine if the risk is worth it. When would this take place?”

The priestess drained her glass in two gulps. “Two weeks from Saturday. It marks the day the prince was reunited with his biological father. Perhaps it might serve you better to study your quarry and his surroundings, hm?”

The right eye flickered again. “Interesting. What can you tell me about the prince?”

Zeala clucked her tongue against the roof of her mouth as she again replenished her drink. She smirked. “He is weak physically. His body is frail and his health is questionable at best. He has the magic of two races conflicting with each other and it makes the prince sickly and prone to prolonged bouts of various illnesses if left untreated. I give him a monthly dose of medicine to keep him stable. It is also how I remain in the good graces of the princess and her fool of a consort.”

“What sort of medicine?”

“A potion from the Old Magic. Essence of Emotion. Very rare. Almost impossible to make now.” Zeala smirked. “It is all that is keeping the poor thing alive at the moment.”

Emerald’s lone eye narrowed slightly. “Is that so? What purpose do you need to kidnap a half breed child that apparently will die anyway?”

“That is my business. Your job is to take him and deliver him to me while misdirecting any attempts to search for him away from me and my purpose. Seventy-five million.”

A sneer graced the assassin’s muzzle. It was both frightening and beautiful to behold. Zeala knew there was only one mare for the job and she was before her. She noted idly the air had grown considerably colder between the two of them. Maybe it would chill her drink...

After a pregnant pause, Emerald broke the silence. “You insult me. My team is highly trained and highly motivated. It costs bits to run them properly and to keep them equipped. Each one I have hoof picked and each one of my slayers I will personally vouch for. I do not come cheaply.”

Zeala scoffed, “Cheaply? I am being more than generous!” Her wings buzzed in agitation.

“One hundred eighty million bits. You are an influential mare, priestess. Your coffers groan with gold. What you ask is perhaps suicidal, if not something considered nigh impossible for most. You will find no other changeling better suited for the task.” The assassin watched as yet another glass was drained by the priestess.

“Ninety million. I can give you a distraction so you can slip in and take the colt without anyling or anypony the wiser.” Zeala refilled her drink.

“One hundred seventy-five. I can have my own team create our own distraction without having to deal with a third party to create one for us. What is the temperament of the prince?”

Unconsciously, Zeala reached a hoof up to her slighted muzzle. “He absolutely hates me. He resents his parents for keeping him cooped up indoors, but with his health the way it is, they really do not have much of a choice. Of course, they are being a bit paranoid.”

“An understandable precaution.”

The priestess shrugged away her inner musings, looking directly at Emerald. “He is easily startled reacts by biting first and asking questions later. The prince is intelligent for his age. His companion is a changeling filly by the name of Maggie. She is his Intended.”

The assassin flicked an ear. “A bit young for that, don’t you think?”

“She keeps him grounded and balances him out nicely. You may have to include her when you take him.” Zeala’s gaze had drifted off and become distant for a moment. They then snapped back to reality when the assassin spoke again.

“What of her?”

“She is perhaps even more intelligent than the prince and more open to being friendly with strangers. If you can connect with her, it will make it easier to gain Reign’s trust.”

“You want it with as little a struggle as possible?”

“It would be for the best, yes.”

“I think I would like that drink. One hundred sixty-five million.”

An empty glass was produced and filled before being presented to Emerald. All the while, Zeala continued to speak.

“One hundred million. The brood mother is Wilda. Her husband is named Yamir. He is inconsequential. Many hatchlings of varying ages live with them. Not all of them are blood. Some are adopted for whatever reason,” Zeala stated flatly. She never could understand how anyling could stand to have so many young underhoof and in the way. “She is the owner of the largest florist shop in all the city and the largest in the region. In the past decade, she has not only shown herself to be a shrewd businessmare, but also a very capable mother and a community leader. Of any other changeling in the Crystal Empire, only she can match me in influence. Most of the modern changelings listen to what she has to say. The elder ones harken to me.”

“One sixty. Any operation of this magnitude will no doubt draw the attention of the other three alicorns. Am I to contend with them as well as Mi Amore Cadenza?”

“No. I have a plan to deal with the alicorns. I will need the prince first. One ten.”

“You are on your fourth glass.”

“Drink helps me to think.”

“Not very becoming for a priestess, if you ask me.”

“None of your blasphemy! I care not for your opinion. I only care about results.” Zeala fixed Emerald with a cold stare. “Can you do it?”

“Nor do I care for your personality,” replied the other changeling affably. “It is more of a question of ‘will I do it’? But your money intrigues me. One forty. Half up front, but only if I can spend the next two weeks assessing the situation for myself. I will get back to you two days before the date in question. You will have my final answer then.”

“We will decide a final price when you have had your opportunity to see for yourself what you will have to work with. I shall not agree until the day you return to me.”

“Reasonable enough. Until then and thank you for the drink. I will see myself out.”

Zeala rose to her hooves and watched Emerald drain the remnants of her drink. The two mares matched stares. The priestess found herself flinching from the cold glare of that one eye. Emerald donned her hood after readjusting her cloak before turning and silently making her exit.

She slumped into her seat after the sound of the door thumping shut echoed in her ears. A tremendous sigh escaped from her lips as she heaved air from her lungs. There was something different about that assassin. The mare could not quite place it, but something was undoubtedly different. Perhaps the loss of the eye had made the assassin even more dangerous than before.

“Igor!” she cried out, knowing he would be just outside the door as always. “I have need of you!”

The hunchback answered, peering in through the door and fixing the mare with his adoring eyes. “Yes, mistress?”

“Bring me the appointment list. We have a busy day ahead of us. And bring me more brandy. I seem to have drained my decanter.”

Emerald Spire was seen when she wanted to be seen and remained hidden when she chose so. It had not been difficult to enter the temple grounds as today was quite crowded. Though the grounds were considered sacred, they were also a preferred gathering spot for ponies and changelings to mingle with their families and have a pleasant afternoon. So long as there was peace and quiet (foals and hatchlings were given leeway), the curators of the holy grounds were content to sit back and let their guests enjoy the gardens and the temples themselves.

It was too easy to drift through the ponies. Emerald had perfected the art of blending in. Her infiltration skills were the envy of other changelings who knew her and most of them were dead. She was also experienced in warfare, using her cover as a model to disappear for stretches at a time and do her work. Celebrities were expected to be eccentric. She excelled at it, spending freely, donating to select charities, and making few but impactful public appearances. Most of her work was done by a hidden army of loyal followers who fought by means mostly unfamiliar to the public. She fought wars in ways Princess Luna would approve.

She had broken dangerous enemies and had faced death many times, only to make it blink instead. A singular purpose drove the assassin. An inner circle of changelings saw to it Emerald Spire’s instructions were followed. It was as though she was the head of an assassin’s guild designed for espionage and counter espionage,

The changeling shifted form with ease, flowing from one place to another, looking a part of the citizenry. An active spell kept her from being nothing more than a passing moment of nothing out of the ordinary to any who happened to look her way. She was silent, pleasant, and quite neutral and focused.

She had a full plate before her. If she was troubled by the proposal of the priestess, she did not show it. She was as calm within as she was without. Emerald’s hidden form depended upon her remaining perfectly calm. So long as she remained on an even keel, detection spells could not break her disguises. Her emotions were completely under her control. She was the mistress of them, not the other way around.

The questions, however swirled like a maelstrom in her mind. She picked apart her meeting with Zeala with cool precision, trying to find meaning behind the mare’s machinations. What was she up to? All the signs pointed towards a potential power grab of some sort, but was it an obvious display of ambition? Or was it something else?

The amount of bits being offered would be more than enough to remove a head of state in one of the major countries. It was even enough to tempt the mare to make a play at Celestia or Luna.

But a colt?

It was well known Prince Reign Cloud had a weak constitution. Emerald’s first impression was Zeala believed herself to be single handedly responsible with keeping him alive. The changeling assassin found something wrong with that. Certainly, she expected some cross breeds to experience health problems. Hippogriffs, for example, were prone to brittle bones in an estimated thirty percent of births.

She had seen him briefly, before meeting his father. Bright eyes, attentive, and always darting about behind that melancholy face of longing. He was adorable, almost passing for an albino changeling with fur and feathery wings.

Emerald cursed herself inwardly as she found her concentration wavering. A few curious stares went her way as her form shimmered. Quickly the mare recovered, snorting in annoyance. Neutral tones overtook her being and her magic took firm hold of the field around her body. Ponies who had been staring were gently coerced into thinking they had seen but a reflection in their eyes.

No, she needed answers. Emerald had a lot of work to do and little time to do it in. Two weeks was not a lot of time to scout out her quarry and the environment. The tendencies of the locals and guards had to be taken into account and planned around. She needed layouts, maps, schedules, habits, supplies, and countless other things she could not name right away. Time was her enemy and she needed to call in the best she had for this operation.

The assassin had not decided if she would even take the job.

No, Emerald Spire needed to find her own answers.

She intended to get them.

Once a certain cross street memorized earlier reached her field of view, Emerald eased off her cloaking magic, appearing as the visiting unicorn from Manehatten she preferred. Once again, this was the former supermodel who had come to the Crystal City in order to invest in a professional hoofball team. She was in her hotel room now, having gone past the desk and greeted the receptionist with a warm smile. She was alone and she shrouded her room from the outside world. Several dark forms awaited her, chittering softly, looking up to her eagerly as they bowed in her presence.

“My children,” she announced quietly, “we have work to do.”

The fanged smiles given in reply were a silent symphony of devotion.

Author's Note

Thanks to Magic Man for going over this chapter to make sure I don't make too many tpyos.

Thoughts?

13. Spats and Stats

That same day was anything but good within the private quarters of a certain royal couple. The morning sun shone through the tall windows, warm shafts bathing a couple beneath the sheets of their large bed. The bedroom, along with the rest of their living quarters, was surprisingly cozy, despite the shimmering crystalline walls. Almost every furnishing during the course of Sombra’s reign had been removed and replaced with furniture more suitable for a family instead of a crazed tyrant with questionable (and at times disturbing) tastes. Several rooms had been redesigned to have the feel of a house and under the watchful eyes of Cadence, who was determined to make sure there was a home to retire to at the end of each day.

Shining Armor loved how she tried her best to ensure their marriage felt as normal as possible. The redesigned and refurbished living quarters offered a cozy place to decompress after a long day of dealing with the rigors of running a country. Reign Cloud’s room was just across the hall.

Though the castle itself would always have a ancient grandeur of its own, Cadence had done what she could to make the privacy for her family as normal and unassuming as possible. Why, she even had a small kitchen for times when she felt she wanted to cook for her husband and her son. She loved it when there was time away from the busy schedule all rulers are burdened with she could cook modest meals for her small family. Reign even learned how to cook under her watchful eyes. It was one of the few activities his father entrusted him to do without supervision.

A particular husband was about to be informed of a decision he had not yet been made privy to. Yet. As a matter in fact, a particular wife poured out all of her charms upon the poor sot, buttering him up with love, affection and some very special attention she had not given him in a certain way in a very long time. She fully intended to fill him in with the details and ride the deluge sure to follow. He thought his day was going to start with a bang, up until the moment his wife whispered into his ear in the middle of their lovemaking of the decision she had come to last night.

The good feeling fell away like an avalanche of betrayal.

Shining Armor was suddenly not a happy stallion. He was, for the first time in a very long time —if ever his memory could recall, actually— upset with his beloved wife. The silence between the pair was thick and very uncomfortable. The stallion blinked several times, confused and hurt.

“Cady,” he began, trying to gather his thoughts through the growing frustration borne from the sense his wishes had not been taken into account. Patiently she waited, giving him time to collect himself. If anything, her expression was expectant. “Why?” he finally asked.

The princess was prepared to respond, having had the benefit of time to think this through. “He deserves to know the other half of his heritage. I trust Wilda. She has a good heart and is a very loving mother.” Her placating voice did little to soothe her irate mate.

“You did not even come to me first!” he accused, pushing her off of him. Shining was on his hooves, snorting angrily. “Why would you do this to me?”

Cadence sighed, sliding off the bed and before her husband. Her mane was a frumpled mess, but she refused to let his outburst get to her. “Shiny,” she began, lowering her head and flattening her ears, “we can’t keep Reign inside a bubble his whole life. He needs to experience life beyond this castle.”

He shot back with, “Why not Equestria? What’s wrong with Canterlot? There are two princesses there and Twily is in Ponyville. We could send him there. What’s wrong with sending them there? He’d be better protected.”

“Honey, I love you, but I disagree.” Cadence tried to smile. “He won’t be but a half a mile from home. Reign will have a communication crystal with him. You can assign guards to watch Wilda’s home. Speaking of Wilda, she’s a broodmother, Shiny. Any colt or filly left in her care would be as safe as though they were surrounded by a regiment of Royal Guard.”

He argued, “No, she lacks the magic training—”

Cadence interrupted, “She’s the third most powerful magic user in the Empire. Her magic is raw, fed by the love she gets from her brood and the Crystal Heart.”

The stallion whirled on her, looking hapless. He sputtered, “Cadence, why didn’t you come to me first?” Shining exploded.

The princess straightened up, her ears perking forward. “Don’t raise your voice to me, Shining Armor. When was the last time you sat down with your son,” —she poked her husband in the chest with a hoof— “and asked him what he wants to do? Of all the things I can speak to you about freely, your son is the one thing that seems to be a stigma.”

Shining roared, “My son is not a stigma!”

“Then why, honey, do we confine him within these walls as though it’s a prison?” she asked pointedly, maintaining her calm. “I know you love him. Reign thinks the world of you. Shining, I’m begging you, let him have this. It’s only for a month. Give him a chance to make friends. Give him a chance to play like other colts and fillies.”

She did not have to add before it’s too late.

The stallion blinked, snorting through this nostrils loudly and showing his displeasure. Shaking his head, he stormed past his wife and out of the bedroom, his tail flicking angrily. “This is a terrible idea, Cadence!”

The princess sighed. If there was a sore point in their marriage, it was the constant tugging on how much freedom could be given or taken away from Reign Cloud. It was not fair to the Halfling his life had been reduced to keeping an eye on his condition as though it was a plague threatening to break from its confinement. She followed Shining, not willing to give up quite yet.

“It’s about her, isn’t it?” she queried when she caught up to him.

“She’s on her way,” he snarled. “Her little war is over and she’s coming to our home and she intends to take my son away from me.” Shining glared at his wife, coming to a dead stop. She stopped with him. “I will not let that happen. She gave up on Reign the moment she abandoned him. I don’t care if she brings an army with her. She is not going to take my boy!”

If there had been servants in the quarters of the princess and her family, they would have cringed at the ringing tone in his voice as it echoed seemingly throughout the castle. It was not the Royal Voice, but it was still an impressive display of lung capacity. It was not directed at the mare in question, but clearly demonstrated frustration.

The Prince Consort calmed, his anger replaced with fear. “I won’t let her replace you.” Shining Armor gave his wife a look of old guilt. “Not again.”

Her resolve melted. “None of that is going to happen. We have changelings who won’t let that happen. Things are different now. We have peace and we have stability. Our subjects would rise up to protect that. They also love their prince. This will be an opportunity for them to meet and get to know the prince they only read about. No queen is going to get close to him. Eyes will always be on our son, Shining.”

The stallion regarded his wife with a flat stare. “You want to use him as bait, don’t you?” His voice cracked with disbelief.

“Elements of the Third Crystal Legion can watch him,” she replied evenly, even insisting. “The best we have. I want you to assemble a team of twenty ponies to watch our son day and night without impeding him nor those within the house he will be staying in.” She sighed, nuzzling her husband pleadingly. “I love Reign as though he were my own. He is my own! You know that. But this is an opportunity to bring a criminal to justice. She’s not interested in you nor me. She wants Reign.”

If it was ever possible to be both infuriated and turned on at the same moment with the very same mare, Shining Armor was experiencing that particular euphoria. A range of emotions played through his eyes, the muscles in his cheeks twitching as his upper lip quivered in rhythm with his flaring nostrils.

“How could you?” he hissed, both upset and impressed.

She looked away, feeling some guilt. At the same time, she was sure of herself and her decision. “I plan to let Wilda know of the possibility of Chrysalis coming for Reign. He will be watched carefully, Shiny. The idea came to me when I was in Reign’s room last night and trying to come up with a punishment for him. You were too busy at the time entertaining the party’s guests. I want you to supervise the guards.” Cadence stepped closer to the love of her life. “He’s not leaving until tonight and I wanted your approval. Honey, we need to do this as one.”

Shining Armor was silent, looking away from his wife.

“You need to let your son spread his wings, if even just a little bit,” she pressed gently. “He’s a smart colt, just like his father.” Cadence added a quick lean in and a kiss, stepping closer as she thought she had her husband swayed. “I need you with me on this. We need to bring that changeling queen to justice.”

He was having none of it, even going so far as to step broadly away from Cadence. “I am not risking my son,” he said stiffly, his eyes darting about as he sought his words, “for your revenge.”

Cadence stiffened, her head coming up as she bore round, disbelieving eyes. “Re-revenge?” she sputtered. “Shining Armor, this has nothing to do with revenge. Besides, I told Reign after dinner what I thought was going to happen. He thinks it’s a great idea.”

“You what?! Cadence, it’s a very bad idea! Of course he’s going to think of it as some grand adventure.” The stallion waved both his forehooves over his head for emphasis, sitting on his haunches as he did so.

Cadence smiled at him patiently. She had indeed given Reign Cloud her thoughts his birth mother might make a play for him, but she gave him a vastly sterilized version. The princess had a very strong suspicion harming Reign was the last thing on the queen’s mind. Mare’s intuition told her it was a mother coming for her lost foal, even if she was an evil, soul-sucking monstrous succubus.

“Shiny, think about it. You’ve read the same reports I have. She’s a mother, despite all the other things we have on her. She is first and foremost that. She has been fighting for him. If she was anything other than the monster we know her to be…” She looked away, biting her lower lip as fear dance through her eyes in a flash.

The stallion sighed, frustrated as he understood what his wife was trying to do. Part of him even applauded the audacity of her plan even as he seethed at the mere suggestion of his son being used as bait to lure the same creature which still gave him nightmares. Shining Armor had accepted the changelings under his care and living in his city, though never to the extent of his beloved wife. The Princess of Love embraced her chitin-covered subjects, having progressed past her experience and the fears that had grown from it.

But this…

“No,” he said flatly, noting how her encouraging smile had grown a bit more as he had pondered. “No,” Shining repeated, shaking his head sadly and with conviction.

“Please, Shiny, won’t you trust me?” Cadence poured out the full force of her love and unleashed it upon her husband, complete with pouting lips and large, glistening eyes shaped by her disheveled mane and splayed ears. “It will break his heart if you say no.”

The conversation had carried over to their living room. It was comfortably furnished from local businesses a visitor might find in any upper middle class home. There were two large, mismatching overstuffed chairs facing a cold hearth.

Shining climbed up into his favorite reading chair. It was a plush and ugly thing that had once belonged to his father Night Light. His sire had upgraded to something newer and Shining was quick to ask if he could have the old chair. Sitting in it now made him feel every bit the father he had hoped to be, though now a decision hung over his head, having been suddenly sprung upon him like a bucket of ice water.

Right now, he was in need of ice water for a completely different reason.

The Prince Consort was also upset and his mind was whirling.

Cadence remained where she had been, making nary a movement as her eyes and ears were locked on him. She held her breath as she waited for her husband to do something other than stare at the empty fireplace. Once she realized no answer was forthcoming anytime soon, the princess adjusted her wings, mentally noting she must look a mess. She announced her intentions of a shower and begged her husband one more time to agree with her before disappearing from the room.

Unlike the living quarters she shared quietly and in private with family, the large and very ornate bath had four mares already waiting for her. The attendants were all young and pretty and well trained to serve their mistress with sufficient care and ready smiles. Though Cadence had grown up in an environment far from the opulence of the nobility and shied away for the most part from flaunting her wealth and power, she did like being pampered. It gave her a chance to think while she chatted with the girls. She knew them perhaps as well as Twilight knew her five closest friends.

On top of that, she was beginning to think she should have let him finish before telling him her idea. Perhaps that was the one thing that made her plan backfire. Her maids agreed with her, trying very hard to conceal their tittering smiles.

With a quick question, she sent off one of her ponies to send for breakfast. The mood to make it herself had fallen away thanks to Shining Armor’s reaction. She didn’t care what it was, so long as it was simple and something to soothe her troubled husband’s mind. Cadence supposed as she soaked in the tub he was more shocked at her suggestion for the simple reason he did not think of it himself. She sighed as it occurred to her her idea might come across as cold and calculating. It bothered her mightily even thinking about it, but she honestly did want Reign to experience the world beyond castle for an extended amount of time.

She allowed herself to be distracted as the mares ministering to her went over her daily schedule. Cadence had yet to tab a personal secretary, preferring to rotate ponies through the position in an effort to get to know them a little more on a personal level. It also helped her to show no preference, even though some ponies were far better at the job than others. Given those facts, it made things interesting at times. Aunt Celestia had her own royal secretary and still clung some of the more hereditary positions most ascribed to Equestria’s casted past. Aunt Luna had one, too, but she found the best way to put her own past behind her was to embrace the modern methods of acquiring employees to her personal staff. None were of noble birth. Cadence was determined to find a pony to fit the role eventually, but she continually put it off as there always seemed to be something more important to deal with.

Cadence had always thought it odd Luna would be more readily adapt to the present than her elder sister, considering the dark alicorn had a gap of a thousand years to get caught up on.

She exited the water and was dried off, lost in her own thoughts. Her maids read her mood and remained silent, doing their duties and offering encouraging smiles to their gentle princess. No, Shining wasn’t wrong, she had to admit. Making a decision as impactful as this one without her husband’s input had been an impulse. Reign Cloud had tugged at her heart, though not in the way he had hoped. The result was the half baked proposition Cadence had spent most of the waking hours before sleep mulling through. Try as she might, she simply could not figure out how exactly to lay out the trap for the changeling queen without Shining. He was the strategist of the family, after all. Cadence did everything else.

The princess intended to follow through with her plan, even if Shining was against it. She would rather he be in on the plan. Like it or not, she had to put her subjects before her family. It was a simple fact and it left a horrible taste in her mouth. But it could be done with little danger to the half breed colt she held near and dear to her heart. Reign took after her, emulated her. He even had her temper, but not her temperament. Part of being the Alicorn of Love made Cadence to be a creature of emotions. In some ways, it could be claimed a changeling like Chrysalis could be considered the polar opposite of the princess.

“A late start,” she told a mauve Crystal pony by the name of Snow Song. “Delay court an hour and inform the captain of the guard, if you please.” Cadence needed time to compose herself and see Reign before one last look upon her husband.

“Yes, milady,” chirped the pony, bowing slightly. Cadence hated being bowed at in private. It still made her uncomfortable. Celestia had once told her some ponies would never feel that relaxed the the presence of a princess.

Unless the princess lived in Ponyville.

Twilight was lucky, Cadence mused. Though the current ruler of the Crystal Empire would be coronated as Empress within five years, the day after the empire would withdraw as protectorate of Equestria and give the tiny nation a chance to stand on its own. The rebuilding of the infrastructure had progressed smoothly and the crystal ponies had come to embrace their new princess as though she were their own. They insisted she become their empress as they needed that comfort after the tyranny of their last king.

Unfortunately, Cadence realized she had made a mess of things between herself and her husband. Even worse, if he were to put his hoof down and say no to her idea, Reign Cloud would be upset with his father and paint the Prince Consort out to be the villain. Cadence did not want that at all. She bit her lip time and time again, lost in thought as she was primped and prepared for the day. The one thing she did not want to do was alienate her husband. She did not want to break the trust she had with him. Shining was the most wonderful stallion in her life and trusted her as much as she trusted him.

Things would work out. They had to work out. Even if Reign had to be disappointed.

Still, there was the clear and present danger a changeling like Chrysalis presented to all nations. Now that her war was over, Cadence carried a tremendous fear the queen would rest long enough to recover her armies before trying to do to some other poor nation what she attempted with Equestria.

The remaining maids finished dressing Cadence and arranging her mane in free flowing style she preferred. The princess sat patiently while her crown and torc were placed upon her. With a spritz or two of perfume, she thanked and dismissed the girls and went back to her private quarters.

“Shining?” she asked, wondering if he had even moved from the chair she had last seen him occupying.

She was surprised to find he had already bathed and was dressed in his typical uniform bearing the crest of the Crystal Empire instead of his old Equestrian one. He did not look at her nor did he offer any form of greeting, instead concentrating on an official-looking paper in one hoof while sipping on a cup of coffee. He had re-occupied his seat as she had left him an hour before. There was time yet to speak to him.

“Please talk to me,” her voice called out.

“I have a meeting with Emerald Spire today,” he said offhandedly, not looking up. An ear did swivel to the sound of her voice. “She might be the backer this city needs to get that hoofball team at long last.” The stallion sounded as though he was speaking more to himself than to his wife. "I'm not sure about the others. Gotta figure out who's trying to position themselves. Business and politics. I hate them both. It was easier just being a soldier."

“Shining…”

Slowly, her husband turned his head to look at her, his blue eyes coolly regarding her though they flickered with raw hurt. “I’ll go along with your idea,” he said after a painful moment of silence between the two. “But we do this my way. If there is so much as a sniff of a threat against my son, I am calling the whole thing off and scrubbing the mission.”

The proclamation hurt Cadence. Shining had used ‘my’ instead of ‘our’. She would have preferred to have been called into a battle of honor against a certain changeling queen with now weapons and no magic. A shiver, cold and unforgiving ran down her spine as she also registered the disappointment in every word uttered by her beloved husband. She might have been the ruler of a nation, but she was still a wife to the only stallion she could ever love.

“I met Miss Spire yesterday, just as Reign retired from the party. She seems like a nice mare,” he went on as though his previous statement had been given in an alternate reality. “Noon is when the appointment with her and the others are. I’ll be taking Reign with me. He’s been interested in seeing how business works. You can come and listen to her proposal or not. I know you don’t think of hoofball as an important asset to this nation as I do, but it would help with international exposure. The local businesses could benefit from a professional team.”

“I’m sorry, Shiny,” Cadence whispered.

He returned to reading the document. “I’m over it,” came the obvious lie.

Cadence decided to give her husband space. She was not at all happy with the outcome. A sigh escaped her lips as she turned and nibbled absently on the light breakfast laid out on the kitchen table by the discreet staff. Solace was taken in noticing some of the food had been picked at, so at least Shining did force himself to have something. The princess herself ate half a slice of toast and drank some orange juice before stepping out of her quarters to face the world of royal politics.

The hotel conference room on the second floor of the Crystal Comfort awaited the potential backers of Prince Consort Shining Armor’s prospective hoofball team. They numbered a mere dozen. But these were some of the wealthiest sapient beings, each one a mogul in his or her own right. Some came from old money, others had worked their hooves to the bone to earn every bit they possessed. They dressed semi formally, as Shining Armor insisted on a relaxed atmosphere to help promote a common goal.

It had been a long and mostly tedious journey for the Prince Consort. Projects like inspecting the massive colosseum had led to the city hosting the Equestria Games, which in turn led to several other pressing needs to ensure the massive stadium could be considered safe. It had barely passed the first barrage of inspections. After the Games, funds and material were allocated for safety and modernization. Everything that could be squeezed out of the population had been done within reason. Shining Armor noted his wife had drawn a line in the sand, firmly telling him she would not tax her subjects over a silly sports team.

Hence the idea of getting financial backers to chip in the sorely needed bits.

Reign Cloud had come with his father, as he too had a love of hoofball. His father had instilled within the young colt the need to know how the little things are required to make the big picture come into focus. No mention of the conversation in regards to Wilda or Chrysalis had been made, nor had Reign made an attempt to bring the subject up. Cadence had warned him to not speak of it until his father was good and ready.

The colt wanted to bombard his father with questions, wanting the answer yesterday, as of the same moment when his mother had proposed the idea to him. As it was, he behaved himself, his excitement and nerves combining to stave off his usual grumpy nature. Though most colts his age would find the business of owning a sports team a boring prospect, he found the devil in the details fascinating, even if he could not quite grasp anything past the fundamentals. There were numbers to crunch, markets to research, estimates to be made, remade, and scrapped only to start all over again when new information became available. The whole project changed with the demographics of not only the Crystal Empire, but the growing popularity of hoofball itself as a professional sport.

Introductions were made, as it was decided all parties interested in a possible investment should sit to lunch before discussing business. It would give a chance for prospective backers to get to know others who shared interest in the current issue to be discussed. There had been other meetings in the past, other investors having come and gone since Shining Armor began stumbling into the world of large scale business decisions.

So long as Reign Cloud remained quiet and observant, he would be allowed to stay, despite the bemused looks from those who had gathered and took note of the smallest participant. His father was worried his son’s aches and pains would inevitably take over his self restraint. Shining determined if he noticed so much as a twitch of attitude from Reign, the colt would be removed from the meeting. Reign was told quite plainly this as his father a bit more gruff and perhaps a tad overprotective (Cadence had once assured Reign his father had been the same way about his sister when she was Reign’s age).

The conference table was set for lunch. It was large and round, easily able to seat up to twenty ponies. It was cut out in the middle with an opening for the wait staff to dart in and out with food and drink. Reign took the time to observe the eleven other members of the group, noting how they interacted with each other and reading body signals. Of course, he could not help but read their emotions, himself remaining as still and small as possible so he might attract less attention to himself. Sitting next to his father helped, as Shining Armor was almost as good at drawing attention through sheer presence as Cadence was.

From his left to his right, Reign took note of a massive minotaur by the name of Bull-neck. It was not a very impressive name, considering it was a direct translation from one of the thirty-seven tribal dialects, all of which had to be distinct in the pronunciation with each specific tribe, only to have more or less the same meaning in Equestrian. Bull-neck was of late-middle age, had squinting eyes and covered in graying black fur. His ivory colored horns were short and polished, each tip bearing a gold cap adorned with jewels. A thin link of gold chain connected the two, dangling a large ruby between the bull’s eyes. He towered a head and a half over Shining and had an infectious and toothy grin. As was custom, he wore a white toga with a blue sash bearing his family’s ancestral name.

The colt felt from the minotaur nothing malicious, nor anything remotely suggesting anything ulterior.

Next was a pair of zebra, business partners who owned a shipping company. Zedan and Zekiel wore suits made by the finest clothiers and were rumored to never wear the same suit twice. They took turns speaking, yet were not brothers. Their interest in Shining Armor’s proposal was the prestige that came with owning a franchise. The trick was to make it a winning one. They wanted to back a winner and right away, making no secret of their desire the moment Reign had first laid eyes on them.

They seemed nice, if a bit skittish. They whispered a lot to each other and Reign felt as though they were expecting to be tricked into...something. Was it doubt? Reign was unsure.

Next was the only mare in the group: Emerald Spire. She was a retired fashion model who owned her own clothing line and invested abroad in several different markets. The black unicorn was often away on personal business and owned one of the largest buildings in Manehatten. Reign could swear she kept on looking at him, but whenever he dared to chance a quick look at her, she was either speaking with one of the others or his father. He was mesmerized not by her pearly false eye, but by her remaining functioning orb. She always seemed to catch him staring and seemed to wink at him. It was hard to tell if it was a wink or a blink, but Reign was sure she was aware of him staring. It made him blush furiously.

She was completely unreadable, if not amused. The mare was cool and collected. Reign sensed she was holding something back. What it was completely eluded him. Confused, he went to the other guests seated at the table.

The young colt’s mind swirled as he fumbled with his concentration, almost forgetting the names of the other nine. They were all nobles from Canterlot, the only one of note Fancy Pants. He was nice and felt trustworthy. The others were there in hopes of hobnobbing with Princess Cadence or getting some sort of arrangement with her for their own political gains. Their greed was as plain as day to Reign. He was mindful of his lessons in hiding his disdain for those. The taste he was getting from the greed in the air ruined his already small appetite.

“Is something wrong?” his father asked him when he noticed Reign picking at his cucumber and swiss sandwich. Shining had bent over and spoke into his son’s ear, his voice carrying softly.

Reign blinked, his eyes flickering towards the sources in a nervous sweep. “I don’t know, Poppa,” he replied honestly, still unsure as to what he was feeling. “I think there are some bad ponies in this room.”

Shining pulled back, his gaze level as he went over his son’s words. “I know,” he said quietly before turning to engage one of the nobles Reign didn’t like in polite conversation.

Bull-neck tried to engage the colt in small talk, asking the usual questions adults pose to children when they think they’re not all that intelligent. Well, for minotaurs, children were not worthy of intelligent conversation until they were blooded in battle. Reign could never wrap his mind around the logic of that belief. The bipedal minotaur was weird enough as it was walking around on two legs and not four.

How weird was that?

After lunch, the table was cleared and papers were brought and and placed before each prospective investor. Shining Armor led the group through the essential information and invited them to peruse the latest and most updated rundown of what it was going to take to financially get the ball rolling on his dream. Seven years of work had been condensed to bound and individualized sets of papers sixty plus pages thick. Each sheet of paper bore the fruits of countless rewrites, statistics, analysis, population growth, median incomes, estimated costs, labor, etc.. It was mind boggling to say the least. The cost of gathering the information was in the millions, mostly from a certain pair of monarchs who had a lot of money to burn. The yearly updates and adhering to the requests from prospective investors (within reason) had cost more. But thankfully the last complete scrapping of the proposal had been three years ago when there had been a breakthrough of sorts and the Crystal Stadium’s availability avoided the vast money sink Shining Armor’s dream was threatening to become.

Celestia and Luna were silent partners, of course. Their involvement was kept a secret, mostly due to the simple fact immortal alicorns did not own sports teams.

While the adults discussed the papers, Reign dutifully began to doodle in his as the excitement he had carried with him had left with his half eaten sandwich. He was bored, slumped over the table at an angle while he tried to draw an eye as realistically as possible. The adults kept on talking about the same thing, but using different words and tones. Each speaker vented his or her concerns and points, which in turn would start an argument. Reign found some of the underlying hostility among some of the group unsettling, which made him withdraw further into himself. Then, he felt an odd tingle, almost like a breath of a caress against his mind. He tried to feel out who was doing it...

She was staring at him again.

His head jerked up, his pencil falling out of his mouth as he glared in the general direction of Emerald Spire, only to find she appeared deeply engrossed in hearing whatever topic Fancy Pants was discussing with the group.

Reign nudged his father with a prodding hoof. “Poppa?”

Shining had been speaking to some nameless, rich noble Reign never bothered to remember the name of. The stallion needed an urgent poke in his ribs before he begged a pardon from the noble born fop (Reign was getting into one of his moods by now) and noted the played ears and wide eyes of his son. “What is it?” he asked, his patience beginning to fray. “I brought you here because it’s what you wanted.”

“Miss Spyre is kinda creepy, Poppa,” Reign managed quietly.

Sighing, the father bent towards the son. He said, “Stop staring at her false eye, Reign. That’s very rude. You should know better. She lost her eye in an accident years ago. It forced her to retire from modeling.” Shining sorely missed having Cadence. She had wanted to be here, but the argument earlier this morning had nixed her presence.

“It’s not that,” Reign began, ruffling his feathers nervously. “I keep feeling like she’s staring at me. It’s really creepy.”

Eyes flicked about the table. A few heads had turned towards the slight commotion. “Son, keep your voice down,” Shining said. Then he became concerned. “Are you having an episode?”

The little prince frowned, fidgeting with his holed hooves. “I...I don’t know, poppa. I’m not tired. I’m bored. I’m bored and she’s staring at me.” He kept his voice very quiet, almost dropping to a mumble. “She scares me.”

Shining sighed and leaned in to give his son a nuzzle. “Do you want to be somewhere else?” he asked.

Reign grew a smile. He knew what his father meant. “Is it that thing momma said I could do?” At least he hoped it was.

Shining nodded, mentally reminding himself to admit his wife was right. “Your mother and I discussed it. How about you spend the rest of the day at Maggie’s house? Would you like that?” A conspiratorial grin slowly etched across the elder pony’s muzzle.

“You mean, I can go? Honest?”

“Yes. Your mother and I had a...talk and I’ve had time to think on it. I will allow it on some conditions.” Shining lifted his head and motioned one of the guards over to him. The Crystal pony approached and awaited orders. “Take the prince home. He is needed by the princess.” To Reign he smiled and said, “Your mother will help you with what you’ll need. I need to finish up here. Okay?”

“Is the prince unwell?” called out one of the guests. It was Fancy Pants.

“He will be fine,” assured Shining Armor. “My guests, Prince Reign Cloud will be leaving us,” he announced. “He has duties to see to.” He ruffled his suddenly embarrassed son’s mane with a hoof.

Emerald Spire sighed. “D’aww! That is too bad,” commented the unicorn mare with a smile.

Bull-neck spoke in a voice like a rumbling volcano. “He’s a cute fellah,” he drawled, offering a toothy grin. “Ya got a good kid there, Armor. Kinda puny, but a good kid.”

Reign shrank from being the focus of all eyes in the room. “Nice meeting all of you,” he managed courteously. Hopping down from his seat, he waved a hoof goodbye and followed the guard out of the room.

Shining Armor decided he was going to have to get an “I’m sorry” bouquet on the way home for his wife. He hated being mad at her and he found she did have a good point. Maybe a box of chocolates, too. Cadence loved chocolates.

As soon as the door was closed and his son was away, Shining went back to work, having decided half those gathered in the room were not really going to commit. Steeling himself, he began to lay out the questions and force the hooves of those gathered.

“Well,” spoke the only female in the room. “You have worked very hard on this, Prince Armor.” Emerald tilted her head to one side as she indicated her personalized information. “Those under your employ did well. I am impressed, though a lot of the details escape me. Forgive me for not being a fan of the sport. However, I do believe this would be a sound investment. Ten percent ownership will recoup my financial contributions within five years, if my math is correct.”

“Thank you. A lot of ponies worked very hard to give their best. The Crystal Empire wants to join the professional ranks and I intend to keep that promise I made. Ponies like you help get my nation closer to that goal. A bit of national pride goes a long way.” Shining grinned unabashedly. Now he just needed to weed out those who were just looking to gain his wife’s ear.

An hour later, Wilda received an urgent message from a royal courier in her shop. As she sat behind her counter, she unfolded the letter, breaking the wax seal bearing Princess Cadence’s crystal heart. She read it, smiled and neatly refolded the letter.

“Children!” she called out. There were a few customers in her shop and a few more browsing the green house in back. A donkey was perusing the petunias. The chaotic sound of her brood leaping at her command was music to her ears as changelings suddenly appeared seemingly out of the woodwork. Her smallest ones were already nearby, never straying far from the broodmother’s legs. A hatchling a few days old slept in her pouch beneath Wilda’s belly, its head poking out. Solid blue eyes looked upon her expectantly, awaiting their mother’s commands like a small army willing to take an entrenched enemy with no reservations.

Wilda rewarded them with love from the tip of her horn to theirs. They were very prompt today and none had caused any trouble at school. Everyling before her had good grades and obeyed their mother. The big mare did not put up with nonsense.

“When we close shop tonight, I want this place spic and span! Nary a speck of dust! Do you all hear me? Maggie? Where are you, child?”

The changeling filly that seemed more mane than changeling popped up excitedly, her wings lifting her up like cork from the bottom of a bucket of water. “Is he coming, mama? Is he? Reign is coming?” her chittering little voice squeaked in her excitement.

Her adopted brothers and sisters collectively rolled their eyes at her.

Chuckling, Wilda nodded. “Indeed he is.” She grew a little more stern. “I want all of you to mind your manners. A prince will be staying with us. A changeling prince. Never mind him being a pony prince. This is the first born of a queen.” Wilda inflected a heavy dose of pride in her voice. She did not mention he was the prince of her former queen. “Clean this place up. I’ll make something special for all of us for supper tonight as a reward. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Momma,” came the reply in the form of stacked voices.

Her eyes that missed nothing swept over them slowly. “You all will be on your best behavior, yes?”

“Yes, Momma.”

“All right, then,” she arched a brow and broke into a loving grin. “Come here and give your momma some love!” Wilda suddenly found herself in the middle of a swarming ball of changeling nymphs of varying ages smothering her with hugs and kisses. She did the best she could to return each and every affection before shooing them away in a rare display of playfulness.

She had a shop to run.

A donkey had watched the whole thing with a bemused expression. “How do you do it, lady?” he asked, munching on rose petals.

A hoof went to the bulge in her pouch. At her touch, the sleeping nymph within snuggled into a tighter ball. “This is the best part of being a changeling, raising nymphs,” she retorted, noting with narrowing eyes he was munching on her inventory. A brief and awkward pause followed. Finally, she noted, “I do not approve of snacking on my product in my store that is unpaid for.”

He realized what he had been doing. “Oops…”

“Will that be bit, credit or check?” she asked professionally, a perforated hoof hovering over her cash register. A predatory smile formed across her lips, exposing her delightful fangs.

Author's Note

A bit of a transition chapter. No marriage is perfect. Couples often mess up and often tick each other off. I wanted to show even with the Princess of Love, arguments happen. I wanted to put something in the story marking the progression of Shining Armor's relentless efforts in getting a sports team to his city. I also wanted to show Reign's interest in the sport, but stress how boring meetings can be to most any kid his age. Also, a bit of Emerald interacting with our favorite half breed...

...awkward, eh?

Pre-read by Magic Man. Not edited. Probably rife with typos. May God have mercy on my soul.

14. Enter the Hive

In the courtyard beneath the castle and near the slowly spinning Crystal Heart at the dead center of the city, a colt and his father were preparing to take a walk. The colt carried saddlebags and wore a ballcap. The morning sun peered under the massive arches supporting the crystal fortress, bathing the pair and their contingency of guards in warm light. A slight breeze stirred, reminding everypony there was a perpetual winter raging beyond the influence of the Crystal Heart.

There was talk the ancient talisman had a means to extend its reach to even the mountain range, but Shining Armor had told his curious son once it would take a population ten times its current size, in theory. So much damage had been done under Sombra’s rule, erasing more than half of what the archives once held. Empty books were still being found in the vast library as tomes were still being catalogued since the fall of the tyrant.

There were guards in formation, ready to fall in step and follow the duo as they would eventually begin their short trip to the changeling district and end at the steps of a florist shop.

Reign Cloud snorted, feeling the last remnants of the location spell weave its way uncomfortably through his pelt and chitin. It felt as though tiny bolts of lightning were dancing through the tiny capillaries beneath his skin, causing him to itch where there was none. He glared up at his father, who returned the stare with good humor and a ruffle of the colt’s mane.

“I hate that,” he announced to Shining Armor, flicking an ear and curling his lips back in irritation. His little fangs were bared briefly before an unsettling chill raced down his spine as the spell was finally finished with messing with his body. He really, really detested having magic cast on him. It always felt as though something was going to rise up from deep within him and leap out of his body and assail whoever it was who used magic. It felt weird. Every time.

Magic did strange things to him. It was as though something tried to fight it, but gave up the struggle before it could be noticed. The colt had mentioned it before and often during his medical exams, but nothing more than a notation to his records was done. Further examinations had proven fruitless.

“I know, sport,” sighed the stallion. “I’m going to know where you are at all times.”

“Did you and Momma fight?” asked Reign in a sad little voice. He already knew. Their emotions still rang in his heart. He could not understand them. It was very confusing.

Shining blinked at his son. “What makes you ask that?”

“You two were yelling last night, Poppa. You said my name. Did I do something wrong?” The colt’s ears went flat against the back of his skull, his eyes earnestly searching his father’s face. “Are you getting a divorce?” His tone had crumbled to a wavering, frightened burbling, like a fear of the dark.

Shining mentally berated himself for not thinking to soundproof his bedroom. For some reason, it had been forgotten. “No! Of course not! Eh, look… Nevermind,” came a stammering rebuttal. The stallion felt sheepish and stupid. “We’re just worried about you. We ‘disagreed’ on some things. I—look, just nevermind, okay?” He tussled the colt’s mane again, a bit harder this time. “You’re a good boy, Reign. Always remember your mother and I are very proud of you. Your mother and I are not getting a divorce. I’ll apologize to her and everything will be all right. I promise.”

“Are you sure this is okay?” Reign blurted another question, worried his father would find a reason to tell him he could not have this grand adventure. “You’ve never let me out of the castle before without you or Momma with me. Is this how you say ‘I’m sorry’ to Momma?”

“I guess.” The Prince Consort sighed, trying to find something interesting in the cobblestone beneath a forehoof. “Also… I’m...afraid of you getting hurt, son. You’ve had your illness ever since you were gifted to us. It’s made me a very protective father. I just want to protect you and do what is best for you. Your mother has pointed out I may have gone a bit overboard. Ever since before you were born—” He still had a hard time trying to explain the wedding to his son. “—Gah! Look..ugh. Your birth mo— No, I’ll just say you and your mother are what is most important to me. It’s taken your mother many years to get it through my thick head.” He chuckled more to himself as he let his thoughts wander to his willful wife. “Remember, Reign, parents can make mistakes. Ponies always make mistakes. It’s a part of life. You’ll make mistakes. I want to stop making that mistake and help you to enjoy your life.” He heaved a great sigh and fixed his son a warm gaze. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry for not seeing that sooner.”

“Why isn’t Momma coming?” Reign asked curiously, tilting his head to one side. His ears were perked as he watched his father stumble through his composure like a drunken sailor on shore leave.

“She still has a lot of work to do with Ambassador Seeadler and won’t be able to put it off,” Shining replied as he started forward. “Walk and talk, son. Let’s go.”

Reign was silent for a moment, wishing she was there. It was nothing against his father. No! Not at all! As Maggie once pointed out, he was unashamedly a mama’s boy. Shifting his wings and resettling against his sides, the colt trotted after his father, having to do so in order to keep up with the stallion’s long strides.

“How many brothers and sisters does Maggie have?” Shining asked conversationally, arching a brow at his son. “At least a dozen, right?”

“Nineteen. Sixteen sisters and three brothers, if you believe Maggie. The eldest is in Junior Officer School. Dark Shadow. You’ve met him, Poppa.” Shining nodded. “The other two are visiting Wilda’s cousin in Manehatten...something about a family store and them needing help, or something.” It was hard for him not to forget what was going on in Maggie’s family. She was always telling him (with enthusiasm) every little detail of her family’s life. Reign blinked. “No! They came back the other day! Maggie was bragging about them. She always brags about her brothers. It’s annoying,” he mumbled with a snort.

“Sixteen girls?” Shining blinked. A low whistle slowly leaked from his lips. “I don’t know about having sixteen sisters...Twily was more than enough when I was growing up. Why was I not told this before?”

“You never asked, poppa.”

Shining smiled down at the colt. “I guess I never did.”

The journey itself was almost an hour long walk. Shining Armor and Reign Cloud were greeted with bows from the citizenry, to which Shining returned warmly with a smile. Guards politely asked onlookers to not draw too near. They did so respectfully, but it did not prevent some ponies from calling out to the consort and his colt. Part of his military training kept Shining from rolling his eyes at the attention. Reign was rarely seen in public, but the citizens knew who he was. He stayed close to his father, nervous at being in the spotlight. He kept his mother's breathing exercises in mind and remembered to follow his father's lead. Why couldn’t they have taken a coach? Shining insisted on being with the ponies and not come off as being above them. King Sombra had left a permanent impression in that regard.

Entering the changeling district was like entering a completely different city. It was not so much the buildings. The atmosphere felt alien. To Reign, it was a wonderful sensation.

Since entering the district, Rein Cloud could note the differences between here and life in the castle to be decidedly of the culture-shock variety. At home, things were orderly and clean. There were schedules and staff always around to keep things clean and dusted. Down in the city, no matter if it was changeling or pony, there was hustle and bustle completely alien to life in the palace. All walks of life could be found in the city. The prospect both intrigued and frightened Reign. He noticed several changelings giving him strange looks. Most masked their emotions from him. A few made odd gestures, as if to ward off something before scurrying or flying off.

Reign was not sure what to make of that. His father did notice and made a slight scowl. The stallion felt no threats. A pair of old changelings playing chess in a park waved at the group enthusiastically before they began to yell at some of the changelings who had been staring rudely at Reign. They seemed to have some clout as apologetic faces sprouted full of shame.

Here, it was like entering a completely foreign country. But they made it. The shop was unmistakable and the changelings on this block seemed far more sociable. Especially when they noted where the royal entourage was heading. When they had taken the side door into the back of the shop, there was not only the broodmare to greet them, but a literal wall of fillies expectant and smiling little fanged grins.

It was easily the most terrifying scene in the young colt’s life.

This elicited chuckles from the respective parents. Shining Armor and Reign Cloud were ushered inside and given a warm welcome. That welcome came in the form of more than a dozen changeling fillies swarming over Reign, naturally led by Maggie. The saucer eyes from the colt as he squealed at the sudden mass glomping only made his father laugh harder. The brothers of the fillies simply laughed. Introductions were made. Given the number of changelings living under one roof, it took a moment to go through the names. There were curtsies from the fillies and bows from the colts. This embarassed Reign and made Shining Armor uncomfortable.

“Tea?” offered Wilda politely.

"I'd love some," accepted Shining Armor politely and with a smile. The giant changeling mare made him feel like a foal next to her. He had to look up to see her eyes.

This. This was changeling territory. Here, a queen ruled over a tiny nation of nymphs. This was a lively kingdom dedicated to all things of the garden. The smells of warm earth and various blooms gave this den of changelings a certain feel of life that even made Shining Armor give pause to his own views on the race. Everything was clean and spotless. The children smiled and always showed up to beg their mother for a nuzzle intermittently.

His musings were twisted a bit when Reign noted his curiosity and told him plainly, “They’re being given love, Poppa.” What sort of twist it was was in itself curious as the stallion did not know what to make of it.

Reign could picture it in his mind: Here, there was organized chaos. It was loud. There was always the sound of a changeling’s wings buzzing and flitting. The distorted vocal chords of the matriarch were always sounding off, either in greeting a customer or correcting a nymph doing something he or she oughtn’t. Despite what he was already aware of, Shining soon found himself more or less in a state of awe. Wilda ran everything. The big mare seemed very comfortable in her role as store owner, shopkeeper, home maker, incubator (she had just laid her latest egg), nanny (she had a six month old nymph in her pouch), wife (when her husband made his rare appearances) and most importantly, mother.

The pheremones Reign smelled told him her story. Everything was marked as belonging to Wilda.

The hive of changelings and the pair of ponies made their way upstairs and into the dining room. While having tea and waiting to meet with Yamir, Wilda’s husband, Shining Armor could only come to one mental agreement as he surveyed this small kingdom built upon a flower shop. It was nice to make small talk and watch the children get to know each other. Maggie had to repeat some names for Reign. There was a lot of nymph names to remember.

Coming home was always a welcome way to end a long day in the crystal mines. A tired changeling stallion, leaning heavily into his middle years went into the side door of his wife’s shop, fully aware by the presence of guards there were important guests inside his home. Yamir had been expecting this. The changeling flared his battered crest, bent and broken from years of working beneath the ground. At least it was not as ominous as when Sombra’s soldiers used to lurk in the streets and accost anyling they felt like.

Yamir was one of those who not only remembered, but could not help but fear the very sight of a soldier. He could claim to be among the few who walked from the dungeons for reasons never made known to him. The scars along his body were a constant reminder of his long stay in the darkness of pain and loneliness.

He flinched upon seeing the Crystal Guard.

But, he was brave; for thoughts of his wife filled him with courage. She was fierce and feared nothing!

Still, the stallion could not help but stare at Prince Reign Cloud, having never had the opportunity to meet the young colt. Needless to say, having met Reign face to face, Yamir could not help but wonder just what it was that drew Maggie to the Halfling. Reign was quiet and polite. The brood were noticeably... not. His father had come with his son while Yamir was still at work, to pass his son over to the hooves of Wilda. A month, she told her husband the other day. A month for the prince to be introduced to everything changeling. He shrugged. A mere month was not enough.

Yamir didn’t mind the extra mouth to feed. With his occupation as a crystal miner coupled with his wife’s business, there was money for a family double the size of the near four score nymphs buzzing about their home. If anything, the size of his family was prestige and the ability of the parents to provide for such a large number was the envy of the changeling community. Large changeling families were special, even if all the nymphs beneath the roof were not all related by blood. Brood mothers like Wilda could not help themselves but take in nymphs who, for whatever reason, could not be cared for by their natural parents.

The more nymphs there were, the happier the big mare became.

Having come home from work and finding a pale pony appearing to have changeling features...or was it a changeling with pony features?...was unexpected. Still, Wilda gushed and clucked and fretted over her new charge. Yamir knew she would mark him with her scent so the other changelings would know Reign was under her protection. The Prince Consort was having a cup of tea with Wilda when Yamir stepped over the threshold of the shop. After an hour chatting (nervously) with the very large and physically imposing unicorn (who managed to look completely at ease with a gaggle of young changelings staring at him curiously), Yamir was assured (reluctantly) by his wife that they were not keeping the prince (pointedly by Shining, who was nervously trying to squeeze an assurance from Wilda she had no intention of keeping his son). Maggie occupied Reign’s time by constantly trying to stuff crumpets down his throat.

Ten years and the changeling stallion was still adjusting to this... modern world.

This amused Yamir and the wry grin was echoed by the much larger unicorn who happened to be the colt’s father. Yamir greatly respected Shining Armor, for he had a powerful wife. He lamented such a fine stallion could only be limited to one son and his mind wandered if ponies took great pride in big families. Still, it was said alicorns were immortal and unicorns could live as long as the average queen…

His inner monologue was interrupted by a sharp elbow into his ribs. Wilda glared at him. Yamir was being rude and had forgotten to maintain the polite smile of a good host.

Reign Cloud bore it all from across the table, his long suffering look mirrored by the adult male changeling, who wanted the meeting to be over and done with so he could have his supper. He had a three and a two year old changeling burrowing themselves under his wings and rubbing against his oddly furred chitin. The colt was frozen in place as the blatant invasion of his personal space was deemed adorable by Wilda. One of the nymphs decided it was a wonderful idea to see how tasty his wing was and began nibbling on it, causing a flood of drool to flow happily from her mouth. Reign bore it all, though his left eye twitched as he watched his feathers get soaked.

Arrangements had been made. Terms had been agreed to. Yamir simply nodded and let his wife do all the talking. There was talk of guards watching for the prince’s security, to which Wilda scoffed openly at. Yamir was inclined to side with his much larger, much more dangerous, and very beautiful mate when it came to a discussion of the safety and security of Reign Cloud.

“Think of them as being there to clean up the mess, should it become necessary,” amended Shining Armor, whom Yamir guessed was not going to take no for an answer.

“Where is our beloved princess?” asked Yamir towards the ends of the discussion, after his wife had wordlessly placed a bowl of peanuts in front of him. He snacked reluctantly, his stomach crying out for his wife’s fried fish and potatoes.

Shining Armor had sighed, “I do apologize. She did want to be here, but matters of state require her immediate attention. This was her idea and she did want to see it through herself, but with the reopening of the borders with the griffons—” He left the words hanging, holding a hoof before him in a rocking motion. “International relations are pretty important.”

“Ah,” accepted Yamir indifferently. Wilda smacked him upside his head and growled.

“Behave, dear,” she said. Oh, her tone might have been friendly in the presence of guests, but Yamir knew when his wife really meant to say; “Shut your trap or I’ll rip your throat out. If you ruin this for me, I’ll never let you have me ever again! I sacrificed years to produce children for you and this is how you repay me? I thought you loved me!”

So, Yamir played it safe and smiled apologetically at his intimidating bride of a dozen years.

Yamir loved his adopted daughter with her full mass of wild mane. Wilda also approved, as it was the High Priestess Zeala herself who had arranged the two to be together. Such a wise mare! Yamir could never figure out why Wilda distrusted the priestess. Why, had not the Spirit of Love Herself chosen her priestesses to represent the embodiment of love?

Princess Mi Amore Cadenza notwithstanding, of course… Let the ponies have their own parthenon of alicorns. One moment, there were just the two sisters, battling Sombra. One blink of an eye, the number of winged goddesses had doubled…

Strange how a thousand years could pass in the blink of an eye...

Yamir smiled at Maggie’s antics and those of his little swarm as they gave Reign their undivided attention.

He cherished all of his children, but he could not give them love. Male changelings were not capable of giving the precious thing. They could feel it. They understood it. Its power gave them sentience and a sense of purpose. They understood their duty and devotion to their responsibilities. Love eluded them and always had. It had always been within the power of the female changelings to give love to their families. Yamir understood the concept of love, but what he felt could not be passed on.

Only a brood mother or a queen could bestow love to other changelings. This was explained to Shining Armor as he sipped his tea and kept an ear on Reign and the girls. It sounded to all the adults at least somelings were having a grand old time. The colt’s culture shock was being met with great amusement.

Then, it was time for Shining Armor to go. His questions and concerns were met three hours after depositing his son and getting a chance to meet Wilda and Yamir in their home. If he was nervous or had any trepidations, the unicorn hid them well and trusted his own wife knew what she was doing in this deliberate move to expose Reign. Wilda asked him to stay for dinner, which she announced needed to be started.

“Changeling affairs in foreign lands troublesome?” asked Yamir, tilting his head to one side. “We have heard rumors. Nothing solid. I shall keep my ears open and let you know if something comes up.”

The Prince Consort paused, considering those words. He smiled. “Thank you. I appreciate that.” He sought out Reign, who had trailed behind the adults (and sporting a fashionable two-year-old nymph on his head like the latest fashion horror). “Listen to Wilda. Watch your temper. Be a good pony. All right?”

“Yes, poppa,” replied his dutiful son as a pair of hooves draped over his eyes.

With a silent nod and a wan smile, Shining Armor left.

“I’m going to start supper,” Wilda announced moments after closing the door. “Come, Pansy. You can help me in the kitchen,” she told the nymph, plucking her from Reign’s head.

Pansy made a sour face and grunted, reaching a hoof at her soft new toy.

“None of that. Let him be, young lady,” lightly admonished Wilda. She gave Yamir a slight toss of her muzzle.

“Ah, of course.” He knew what she was implying. “Come, my prince. We all wash up before dinner and everyling helps to set the table.”

Now, about that fried fish! Catfish, specifically. There was also to be caramelized carrots and deviled eggs. Fresh bread from the local bakery would be toasted and served with soft churned honey butter. Yamir salivated and was glad Reign had given his wife a reason to pull out all the stops with her cooking. Wilda had promised to make the dish in honor of their new guest. It was, after all a special occasion!

Reign Cloud had sat at the massive table the family gathered at for dinner. Yamir was able to ask the colt/nymph/whatever a few questions. He found out Reign had a bit of a chip on his shoulder, was not at all shy and composed himself very seriously.

A bit stiff, in other words, but not a bad colt. Maggie had a habit of blurting excited answers for the colt (annoying him) until Wilda sternly told her, “Less talking, more chewing, my dear.”

Reign needed exposure to his changeling heritage. Dinner was more of an observation of Reign interacting with the mass of younglings Wilda and Yamir had dedicated their lives to raising. They were instantly smitten with Reign..

Wilda guffawed as the colt stammered and stuttered with the sudden interest of changelings his age, not shy, rather not sure as to what he should do. “Play with them,” she suggested in his ear quietly at one point.

Yamir thought his slight frame and weak constitution would be a liability. It was with surprise Reign proved him wrong by being surprisingly durable for his scrawny size, if cautious concerning changeling roughhousing. The nymphs, all eighteen of them, had been reminded to not play too rough. Especially the older ones.

Names, Reign discovered to Yamir’s amusement, were temporary in changeling households. When he asked for them to identify them, Yamir answered by saying, “The daughters are named after flowers, the sons after shadows.”

Basically, as Reign understood it, the colts were all called Shadow. From eldest to youngest, they were Dark Shadow, Gray Shadow and Little Shadow. This confused him greatly. He supposed this meant Maggie’s real name was Magnolia. Yamir found the colt questioning him on the very subject, looking very serious indeed. All three of the changeling colts (each one lined up on Reign’s right side) had spent the day outside and came to supper at their mother’s mental command. Introductions were made. The eldest, Dark Shadow had been at his training, his brothers having followed to watch. Guard training was open to the public to encourage trust. He was large for a male changeling, taking after his mother and was easily thrice Reign Cloud’s size.

After dinner was play time for the nymphs. Yamir and his wife cuddled in their favorite overstuffed chair (built for two!), a throne overlooking their small subjects as they romped and played and buzzed about. This was his kingdom, and Yamir was pleased. Though he was half the size of his wife, he did his best to look rightfully kingly in his kingdom. Dark Shadow excused himself and after a quick word and a nuzzle from his mother, returned to his barracks.

Wilda allowed him this.

Soon, it was nearly bedtime, which meant story time. Yamir loved telling his children stories before bed. They had heard all of them, but the stallion was a very good teller of tales, most of them having to do with the great struggles of past great queens against terrible dark threats. The greatest of them all was the one who freed them from their masters in a past so long forgotten, it was not even known if the story was as true today as it had been first been told from fathers to their nymphs in the ruddy light of the candle flame.

Story time approached, as it always had. Wilda extricated herself from her comfortable spot in the overstuffed chair to arrange the youngest. The family gathered in the family room of the second floor above the shop, a room that had once been the common room of an apartment complex originally meant to house four families. There was a fireplace at the back of the room. Angled off to the side was the overstuffed chair. There were woven baskets made of cotton dangling from the ceiling, large enough for a small changeling to snuggle into to relax. There were bookshelves along the long wall opposite door leading into the room. Most of the books were for the nymphs, but a fair share were a bit more than that. Most of it had to do with understanding Equestrian culture, as well as a few novels which were more confusing than entertaining. Ponies had strange ideals for their heroes, it seemed. There was also a half bathroom on this floor.

A long hallway outside the room led to the staircase going down to the shop in the front, and another one leading up at the far end. The kitchen was also on this floor, as well as the dining room on the other side of the hallway. The next floor up was the main bedroom as well as the nursery. There was also a couple of linen closets and the main bathroom. On the fourth floor was the rooms for the little ones and their own bathroom. They were expected to clean up after themselves, of course. Wilda had a store to run and was rarely happy to pick up after her nymphs unless they had a good reason for making a mess of where they lived.

Which brought them to this point. Yamir was pleased. All eyes were upon him. He buzzed his wings as he adjusted himself to a loafing position, facing all of his nymphs. The changeling smiled, flashing his fangs. His crest flared, his ears perked. Yamir was very pleased indeed. As he understood it, Reign had never heard any of the oral history of the changelings.

Tonight, he would start the colt’s education by regaling the greatest of the sagas.

Toned down for a younger audience, of course.

Looking back at the events of the evening, Yamir was looking forward to telling this story. His eyes fell upon the colt, who was off to the right. Maggie had her hooves wrapped around his neck. Reign was somewhat annoyed, the stallion thought in amusement.

Yamir observed the gathering of nymphs with the practiced eye of a changeling stallion well versed in the antics of his unruly brood. He noted the range in ages as they shuffled and shoved and chirped into a rough half circle in front of him. His lovely wife nudged the smaller ones gently with her snout, snorting into their withers and flanks. Instinctively, the older siblings positioned themselves on the outside while the younger brothers and sisters more or less clumped together in the middle. It was there Wilda did her utmost to keep her littlest ones to stay put. Her voice was quiet, directed individually. The stallion’s eyes fell upon his wife and he realized how lucky he was to have such a magnificent mate.

His compound eyes shifted towards the pale newcomer. Maggie was literally clinging to the embarrassed young prince. A possessive eye loomed over her sisters, some of whom were jealous while others thought little more than passing interest for the prince. She had taken to the Bonding quite well. The young ones found him soft and snuggable. They snuggled up to him with no concern of his personal space. Yamir noted again how Reign was very polite and maintained a neutral face. The panic showed in his eyes. Wilda separated them gently, shushing their protests and giving Maggie a stern eye to give the colt space.

Reign Cloud, it seemed was not quite as enthusiastic. His changeling heritage made him difficult to read, unlike ponies. This relieved Yamir, as no respectable Royal could allow their emotions to be read. The boy bore watching. The changeling was sure there was something not quite right with the young prince.

But Maggie was so very happy to be around Reign.

Wilda stood behind her youngest on the floor, deferring to her husband and graciously giving him the honor of holding his head over hers in the presence of their family. Stories were the responsibilities of the fathers in changeling households and a good wife gave her husband the respect if he was a good storyteller in her opinion.

Wilda loved Yamir’s stories. “You give them life,” she had once told him affectionately.

“They are ready,” she said quietly as she settled her wings against her sides. She sat on her rump and made a soft clicking sound with her tongue. One flipped out and caressed the back of a six-week-old nymph’s head. The hatchling cooed a gurgling chirp, nestling closer to her mother. A single peep trailed in the expectant silence that followed the mare’s words. She butted her head against Wilda’s stomach until it found the entrance to her pouch. Then, the little nymph proceeded to crawl in, her back legs kicking awkwardly in the air. She disappeared moments later, the skin bulging and shifting for a few moments.

“My children,” he announced when the silence had lingered long enough. “Have you all been good today?” Wilda smirked at his question.

“Yes!” chorused his brood back at them. Reign was casting his eyes over the nymphs, blinking before settling his gaze back upon the stallion.

“Are you ready to hear a story?” he pressed, flicking an ear.

“Yes!” came the reply, more eager than the last one. Little wings buzzed in excitement.

Yamir inhaled deeply, then held his breath, casting his eyes upon his audience. Wilda chuckled. Dramatic pause complete, he exhaled, the corners of his mouth flickering up ever so slightly before he became serious. “Tonight,” he whispered harshly, leaning towards his children. His voice rose in a booming proclamation, “I speak of the tale of Queen Ryoku the Magnificent!”

The cheers erupted from the nymphs, filled with chirps and excited wings. Hooves stomped against the floor or clapped together. Yamir withdrew his head, holding it high as his compound eyes lit up to reflect his amusement. Of course, he had to exhibit a bit of showlingship.

“Once,” began Yamir, his eyes suddenly glowing changeling green, “the world was cold. Windigos ruled over all. There was despair. The sun provided no warmth in the day and the moon bathed the night in a frozen glow. Love was hard to come by. The pony tribes were divided and scattered, constantly fleeing the encroaching power of the Relentless Winter. This was before the goddesses graced this world. This was a time when the spirits of emotion were wild.”

His horn flared to life and the room became filled with the past as he saw it. Illusions of great changeling queens long gone flared into being, smiled down upon the nymphs and faded. Great armies flew through skies long gone, their carapaces shining in imagined sunlight. The forms all dissipated, shifting as though the journey through time slid further into the past, to before the Sun and Moon had chosen their goddesses to represent them.

“Once, there were no changelings,” Yamir breathed. His air swirled into the mists of his magic, creating a swirling cloud hinting at ominous shapes within them. The nymphs gasped at him. Though they had heard the story many times before, it was never a dull one. “There were griffons, minotaurs, satyrs, dragons, chimeras, kepies...but no changelings, my little morsels.”

Again, his audience gasped. Reign blinked as Maggie nuzzled him. She munched happily on a large bowl of popcorn, one of several the nymphs helped themselves to thanks to a silent broodmother using subtle telekinisis.

Yamir again leaned forward, stretching a hoof out in front of him and hovering it over his captive audience. “But there were also Windigos. Oh, such fearsome spirits, full of hate and spite! They hunted for warmth, for they could never create it!”

“But Windigos don’t exist! They’re just a myth!” Reign stated. “Momma said so!”

The changeling smiled toothily. “As was Nightmare Moon, yes? Discord was a myth, was he not? Let us not forget the rampage of Tirek, young one. I suppose you think curses do not exist, hmm?”

Reign worked his jaw soundlessly, his eyes darting from side to side. Maggie patted him on the withers. The others glared at him for interrupting story time. Yamir waited for a protest that never came. Reign held his peace. Most of the young ones in this room were too young to remember the ancient centaur’s attempt to steal all the magic in Equestria for himself. Luckily, his presence had never made it up to the Crystal Empire.

“There are many ancient beings yet to be rediscovered,” Yamir went on, his voice calm as a patient master before his curious apprentice. “Now, Ryoku was once a slave of the Windigos, and our kind were slaves to their whims. She was not always a queen. She was born a slave, like all of our ancestors were to the will of those monstrous masters. They had turned our ancestors and twisted us from what we once were to what you see this very day.

“It was their avarice and hatred of all things harmonious which made them turn the first changelings. They needed physical beings to hunt down their prey and bring them before them to be fed upon. All warm, living things were a bane to the Windigos, for they brought the emotions of love and laughter. Such things were impossible for the great spirits of all things cold and angry.”

The room danced as vaguely equine shapes like wisps on the winds of a hurricane, their colors ranging from blues to black. Eyes as red as the deepest hatred glowed from within the heads of their ethereal forms. Clawed hooves thundered upon the air and fangs glistened from hungering maws. A vast swarm of phantom Windigos appeared before the nymphs. They circled overhead like menacing, horrid and ghostly vultures.

They recoiled as they always did. Even Reign yelped, flinging his wings over his head as he scrunched into a ball of fright. Yamir’s face fell and he became serious. Tracing his eyes from the children to his wife, he held hers for a moment before going to the illusion dancing overhead.

“Our souls. They fed upon the souls of our ancestors. They stole the ability to love from them. Within our ancestors, came a hole in our hearts. An unquenchable hole. A hole that needed love constantly. A curse. The Curse. An affliction that not only changed our physical appearance, but created within us a vampiric need for emotions to sustain our minds and keep us from going mad.

“The slave Ryokuu realized this. The lands of the Windigos were across the sea, in the Old World, where the other races dwelled as food for their masters. The ponies had long fled and were the last of the free races still able to resist. The Windigos became obsessed with capturing them. As their attention was turned upon the last of those who remained free, their very armies were fostering within them rebellion.”

Yamir’s dancing images shifted again, becoming dozens of pairs of glowing blue lights narrowed to slits. The shadowy forms undulated up and down, held aloft in buzzing wings. They parted and a tall figure emerged from their ranks. She was magnificent, larger than any changeling. Her crooked horn was like a jagged bolt of lightning rising up from her forehead. She was as black as the deepest night, her mane a glowing silver. Her eyes were golden and her chitin was covered in scars. She was a warrior, the finest of her kind, the first to reach her considerable size. “Behold, Ryoku the Slave, Ryoku the Mistress of War. Ryoku the First.”

Yamir concentrated, adding an extra strut to the ancient mare’s step. His wife gave him a curious look, arching an eyebrow as her lips made a straight line. ‘Really?’ she mouthed at him. The cheeky changeling grinned right back at his wife and his imaginary queen walked normally, as a proper lady should. Wilda rolled her eyes and muttered something under her breath.

“Poppa?” asked one of his older daughters, Petunia.

“Yes, little one?”

“You’re making Ryoku walk like a whorse again. You mustn’t make the greatest changeling walk like a whorse. It’s rude. You always said to respect our ancestors. Why are you doing this?”

‘Your funeral,’ Wilda scoffed. She tilted her muzzled at her daughter. “Petunia! Language! We do not use that word in this house!”

Notched ears splayed back in shame. “Sorry momma. Queen Ryoku is supposed to always be revered, isn’t she?” The confusion in his young daughter’s voice made Yamir feel bad. Some of the older nymphs stared at their father with accusing looks, far too alike their mother’s for his comfort.

“You are correct, Petunia,” he sighed. “I was wrong and I apologize.” A sincere smile graced his muzzle.

“Back to the story, Poppa!” cried Daffodil, who was six going on thirty. She had still been in the egg when Maggie had been given to Wilda. Yamir had few sons, but many daughters. Many, many daughters. Truly, he was a blessed stallion.

“Of course, my little queen,” he smiled, winking at Reign. The poor colt was still trying to pry Maggie's hooves from his ears. She had clamped them smartly on the sides of his head when her sister had said that word. The stinkeye she levelled at Petunia was met with a shrug and a raspberry.

“Girls,” Wilda admonished. “Maggie, take your hooves from Reign’s ears. There’s a good girl. Petunia, I already warned you. Do not antagonize your sister.”

Defeated and ashamed, the two said in one voice, “Yes, momma.”

Yamir caught his wife’s irritation at the tail end as her attention for a brief moment. All it took was an arched brow and an ever-so-slight curl of the lip over one of her inch long fangs. “We have a guest who will be staying with us. I’m sure Prince Reign Cloud did not come here to listen to hatchlings squabbling.” Her massive head swung and hovered over Reign, who leaned back and tilted his head up to see her.

The hatchling in her pouch peeped drowsily, her mother’s movements disturbing her nap.

“And now Zinnia’s awakened,” sighed Wilda in resignation. “Yamir, continue the story.” She rose to her hooves. Her wings buzzed irritably and she tossed her mane over her left shoulder. “I shall try and get Zinnia to sleep. No more...indulgences, dear.”

“All right.”

“Save your fantasies for...later,” she added with a sultry smile. With a grace belying her size, Wilda drifted from the room with nary a sound, leaving Yamir with a wistful look on his face.

“Poppa?” asked Rose. “You’re staring at Momma in the way that’s going to get us another sibling.” She giggled. “Can we have a little brother? I love my sisters, but it would be nice to have a brother.”

Yamir wondered how Reign was taking all of this in. A quick look indicated amused annoyance, if anything. He spoke when he noticed the adult looking at him. “Who was Ryoku? How important is she to changeling history?” His ears were perked forward, like those of a pony’s and not like a changeling. Looking at the hybrid was strange indeed! At least he was polite and respected his elders. It was definitely a plus.

“Ryoku was the First Queen. Before then, she was, as were all the changelings of those times, a slave to the Windigos. They had taken magic and infused it within her, seeking to make one changeling with whom they could command so she in turn could command the others to do their bidding… This is her tale. This is the legend of Queen Ryoko, the First Queen…”

Author's Note

Unedited. Should be rife with stupid mistakes. Many evil, windigo-driven mistakes.

Exhaustion is fun!

I'll probably fix this later. I promised a release this weekend. Enjoy!

15. Devotion and Loyalty

The tale had been riveting. Reign would have loved to have stayed awake, but the story’s compelling allure and the pictures Yamir had crafted with his magic almost...compelled him to sleep. Yet something jolted him awake. Something gnawed inside his head and his heart thudded loudly in his ears. It was almost painful in his chest with each and every beat. He blinked away the sleep as it seeped from his eyes, groggily lifting his head and finding himself tightly in the grip of dark legs with holes in them.

He sniffed the air.

Maggie.

Her breathing was soft and slow, her head angled up. Reign found his head snuggled beneath hers and into her neck and shoulder. They were both stuffed into a bowl-shaped nook of one of the bedrooms he had been shown yesterday. It was not an uncomfortable feeling, even though his movements were restricted by the presence of the larger filly happily using him as a teddy bear.

Though he had slept through half of the story at least, Reign felt as though he knew it as the other nymphs did. It was stuck in his memory. It felt like he had been there. Such horror...such despair...such agony! The colt sniffled as colt fear slowly began to assert itself in his heart. He tried to stifle it.

He had dreamed of ghostly monsters...

What Yamir did last night suggesting something in the realm of dream teaching. Aunt Luna might know something of it. The colt thought a letter to her might be nice. Luna loved getting letters from colts and fillies, and especially a certain little nephew.

He had dreamed of scores of changelings, choosing to die fighting their former masters rather than serve them any longer...

Fear gripped him. An unbidden yawn came mightily, his tongue touching the roof of his mouth. What time was it? It was still dark. His night vision —a gift from his changeling heritage— caught very little as there was a mass of Maggie mane obscuring his field of vision. Using a hoof, he brushed aside as much as he could and lifted his head. Something felt wrong.

He had dreamed of a queen who rose above the cries of agony from her kind...

The nook was in the corner of the sleeping room. Reign could make out the sounds of snoring nymphs and fluttering wings. It was still night. With the tale still reverberating in his thoughts, the young colt gently dislodged himself from Maggie’s grasp. Just as he was about to push the foreleg on top of him away, the filly growled. He could not see her face. Suddenly there was a vice gripping him and hauling him forcibly to her barrel. Reign whimpered as she nearly crushed him. Maggie seemed to hear him and relaxed.

“Noooo..,” she whined in her sleep. “Mine.”

He had dreamed of her banishing windigos with the aid of six spirits...

Reign was stuck. He was awake now and becoming uncomfortable. Panic began to build in his chest. He had never woken up in a strange place or in somepony else’s grasp other than his mother or father before. With his heart pounding in his chest, he fought to control himself. His pony half wanted to flee.

He wanted his mother. This place was so strange and the smells were so alien! A whimper escaped his lips. Instinctively, he curled into a ball. Maggie gripped him tighter to her barrel, snuggling with squeaky, incomprehensible words. Reign tried to wriggle from her grasp, prying first one foreleg, then the other from his body. Maggie was reluctant to part with him, her muzzle turning into a frown.

She murmured, “Don’t wanna lose you…”

Reign slid from the bed, thinking it oddly shaped. He was soon free from his friend’s grasp and sat on the edge of the bowl-shaped bed. He blinked, looking around the room and seeing similar beds filled with the sleeping forms of changelings. It was like being in a room of softly chirping crickets. The beds, like the one he was sitting in, were suspended from the ceiling and braced against the walls all around the room. Each one was meant for once changeling apiece, but Reign had been put in the same bed as Maggie.

He had dreamed of her vanquishing her enemies, only to be chased by a truly monstrous windigo...

For a while, he simply sat there, staring at the floor. Behind him, Maggie shifted. He looked over his shoulder to see her form curling into a ball. He liked her, but wondered why she wanted to be his friend. Why was she always happy to see him? What was he to her? Why did she want to hang around somepony who was going to die?

The melancholy overcame him like a black wave on a moonless ocean. Tears came unbidden. Where was Momma? Not here. This was a changeling house. This wasn’t his home. Momma had told him many times how hard it had been for her to overcome the fear she had of changelings. What was so scary about them? He was part changeling. His birth mother was a wanted criminal. She was also a queen, a leader of a nation that may or may not exist. She was a renegade, a general...she was many things.

He had dreamed of her facing the monster. Its eyes were filled with rage.

But she was not his mother.

Mother had a lovely pink coat and beautiful wings with dark tips. She had wonderful eyes and a smile that chased all the bad dreams away. She smelled of all things warm and cuddly. Mother had wings to burrow under during thundersnow storms. Her voice carried the words of the stories she read to him. It was from her Reign learned his early life lessons.

Well, Poppa helped, too. But Poppa wasn’t Momma! Momma was a princess! She was the nicest princess, too, with all due love and respect to the other three…

Here he was, away from home for the first time. A realization suddenly dawned upon the little colt. A realization so profound and so unexpected. He was alone. He was far from his mother.

And it scared him.

He dreamed the monster had devoured the world once...

For the first time since he was very small, even before he could remember, Reign Cloud let out a little chirp. A frightened little chirp of a nymph wanting his mother. Silently, he dropped down, curling his tail between his legs and stood there, his eyes round and his ears plastered to the back of his skull.

He chirped again, raising his muzzle and opening his mouth as the sound escaped him.

There was a door! Maybe Momma was that way? Slinking for it, Reign moved with the grace of a terrified rabbit, his instinct to find his mother overcoming his common sense. His soft hooves made no sound past a light thud upon the wooden floor.

He dreamed the Queen defeated the monster, but at the cost of the mortal lives of each of the six spirits who had stayed at her side until the bitter end…

It wasn’t enough…

He dreamed the monster was still there, lurking...watching...waiting…

His chirps grew louder as he wandered down the hall and he sobbed between each throbbing, warbling call for Momma. Reign was completely terrified now, as the visions of the dream from the story filled his head. The whole house roused to his caterwauling, some of the younger nymphs making the same chirping cries. Soon, there was a cacophony of alarmed nymphs calling out on pure instinct. One of their own was hurting and they raised their voices for adult attention.

There was a couple of loud thumps coming from the bedroom below, as well as muffled cursing. Hooves pounded the floor as they hurried for the stairs.

A name was called. His name. From behind. The colt spun, chirping even louder as a familiar voice sliced through the primal urges to find safety and comfort. Hooves encircled him and drew his slight frame into a hug. A voice whispered into his ear.

“Everything’s gonna be all right, Reigny.”

The lights flicked on. “What is going on here?” demanded Yamir. “Changelings are trying to sleep!”

“It’s a night terror, dear,” came a reply. This voice drew nearer. “Maggie, do you know what happened?”

“No, Momma.”

“Yamir, settle the others down. They are quite upset.”

The stallion grumbled. “Yes, dear.”

“Maggie, release him, dear. Let me have him.”

Reign felt Maggie’s grip loosen and he bawled, turning and running to the source of the closest safety he could think of. “Reigny,” Maggie said sadly. “I don’t know what to to, Momma.”

He was gathered up, a soothing voice calming his nerves. Reign buried his face in the massive armored chest of the brood mother. A long, wet tongue began to caress his cheeks and muzzle between those sounds. It was relaxing. Maggie pressed herself next to him and added her own attempts to calm the frightened halfling.

“The poor dear. He’s terrified. Maggie, what did you do?”

“I was asleep, Momma! Honest!”

“Reign?” He felt his chin gently touched and lifted. He was looking into the cerulean eyes of Wilda. They were filled with concern. “Honey, you need to tell me what happened. I can’t help you unless you tell me. Please look at me.”

“Monsters!” he blurted. “The dream had monsters! They wouldn’t stay away!”

“Oh, Yamir…” Wilda sighed, closing her eyes. “It was just a dream, Reign Cloud. Just a dream.” She nuzzled him, deciding to write his mother a letter. “There are guards on duty outside my shop. I shall write your mother and let her know. She’ll be here soon, okay?”

Mutely, Reign nodded. “I want Momma.”

“What do I do?” Maggie asked Wilda.

“Stay with him. I will take care of everything else.” There was reassurance in her words.

“I felt it too. Everyling can feel it. It feels bad.”

Reign was shuddering with each breath, but at least he wasn’t crying anymore.

“Let’s get out of the hallway,” Wilda announced softly. “To the bedroom.” She scooped up Reign with her magic and held him close to her neck and chest. Maggie took wing and fluttered after them, wringing her hooves worriedly.

All the nymphs were awake and sleepy. Most were grumpy at being woken up so rudely. A few were whimpering. Yamir had them all huddled around him, those who had been made afraid thanks to Reign Cloud’s chirps. Though he was not his wife, he had learned a thing or two from the mare and was doing his best to soothe his family. His older children were giving him incredulous looks.

Wilda sniffed the air as she entered. “Yamir, somelings have soiled their beds.”

“I am aware of that, dear.”

“Rose, Petunia, Maggie. Fetch up the wet bedsheets and take them to the laundry room. Violet and Sunflower, get fresh linens from the linen closet. Yamir, run a bath for those who need it.” The mare’s voice was gentle, yet commanding. “Let’s get a guard in here and let him know wha—” She was interrupted by the sound of pounding at the door to her home. “Cherry Blossom, be a dear and answer that, would you please?”

The named daughter complied with a zip of flight and was gone in an instant. As she did so, every pillow in the room was lifted by Wilda’s magic and brought to the center of the room. She made a makeshift nest with them and settled herself in the middle of the pile. Once she was comfortable, she lay partially on her side. Then, she made a series of soft chirps, low and slow. Her youngest hopped away from their father and made a beeline towards her, chirping in reply on a higher pitch. Reign found himself doing the same thing as he was lowered to the floor.

“Yamir, nymphs only for now. Meet the guard and find out what he wants. None may enter this room. My hatchlings are stressed and I am feeling protective. Please warn the guard.”

Reign watched as the stallion’s eyes went round. Yamir’s posture became very submissive. The stallion backed out of the room with round eyes and nervous wings flicking up and down. Everything about him was in deference to the mighty mother gathering her children to her.

“I’m sorry,” Reign hiccuped. He moved to get away from the group.

Wilda moved quickly, darting her neck out and her maw opening wide. Reign froze as her shadow cast over him, his eyes round as her muzzled darted down. Her jaws closed around his neck and shoulders and suddenly he was lifted in the air. Her grip was gentle. Reign’s legs curled up to his body and his wings went limp. His whole body relaxed as the predator gentley brought him back to the fold. Reign was deposited among the other nymphs. Hooves and muzzles reached out and touched him, offering reassurance.

“I pledged to your mother long ago that I would always treat you as though you were my own,” Wilda explained in his ear. She flicked a tongue out and began to wash him with it. “She was so frightened of changelings. She was very frightened of me. But she was brave and she faced her fears. I admire your mother’s courage, Reign Cloud. I consider her a dear friend. It took years to earn her trust and I will never betray that trust. I offered her my nymphs, Reign. I offered her my family to be hers and even offered my life in exchange for fairness and just rule for my children. My desire to do anything for the sake of my nymphs frightened her more than you may ever know, Reign. Instead, she offered me friendship. You were very little then. I made a pledge before Princess Mi Amore Cadenza the changelings of this city would never rise up against her or her ponies. Our oath is bound to the Crystal Heart, for it gives us no reason to want. It also helped your mother to overcome her fear of us through its ancient power. I know this because my husband has seen the Heart when it has done some of its wonders.”

There was a soft kiss on his cheek. “I love your mother as though she were my sister. She still makes bad choices. She still makes decisions based on her emotions. Your mother is still young and still learning. But she is a good pony and a wise ruler. I gave her my oath because she is a far better ruler and a far better light of hope than my former queen. All changelings who want peace come to Mi Amore Cadenza and offer their lives to her. There are few places in the world that would have us. There are few of us capable of finding havens such as this. For all of what your mother has endured to forgive the changeling race, I can only do my best in kind to return the favor by loving her children and her family in return.”

Wilda’s horn lit up. “I give you my love as though you were my son, Prince Reign Cloud. It is my hope this will help chase away this nightmare that consumed your sleep. We will all stay here and we will all give you comfort.” She reached down, tilting her head until the tip of her horn touched the middle of Reign’s forehead.

The magic washed down from the tip and bathed his body, filling him with warmth and a tingling sensation. It was not unpleasant.

“Sleep, my prince. I will not leave you.”

“I’m here, too, Reigny!” Maggie hugged him, giving him nuzzles.

Wilda smiled and began to give love to all of her children. Her eyes were soft and lidded. The act of giving made her feel complete as a mother. She opened her emotions to the brood. They snuggled in tightly, touching each other as they pressed closer to their mother.

“You know,” Maggie added, looking up at her mother. “It would be neat of Princess Cady was here to share in the snugglefest!”

Reign found himself smiling. “I’d like that. I’d like that very much.”

Author's Note

A short chapter...following up the previous chappy.

This is a turning point in the story.

One of the reasons why Cadence trusts Wilda is revealed.

Ah...unedited...I fear typos.

16. Discussion in a Sea of Nymphs

Princess Cadence sat in living room of Wilda’s home shortly after sunrise, having arrived just before Celestia had sent the sun on its course for the day. The two mares sat next to each other quietly, Wilda tending to her hatchling while the alicorn loafed on some cushions set on the floor. In between them lay a pile of sleeping nymphs. A low table was before them laden with tea and buttered breakfast biscuits. A cup of hot tea lifted to her lips, a calm visage upon her face as her son and Maggie slept under her right wing.

Yamir had left to deal with the neighbors. There was a lot of unhappy changelings out there, thanks almost entirely to the spectacular entrance of one pink alicorn princess. And the laundry. There were soiled sheets currently in the wash.

Earlier, she had been frazzled: mane and tail unkempt, coat unbrushed and her crown and torque nowhere to be seen. The moment word had reached her of Reign Cloud’s odd behavior, she teleported after blurting something to her half asleep husband, leaving him very much confused and in the lurch. The sudden appearance of a princess with a horrible case of bed mane and a maniacal and frantic gleam in her eye for any of those unfortunate enough to gaze upon her was truly a sight to behold.

Using the Voice, all residents within a three city block radius heard, “WHERE IS MY FOAL??”

Guards had gone out to assess the damage. There were already reports of broken windows streaming in. The changeling ward was in chaos. There was the report of a second, less volatile screaming shortly after Reign’s episode, but the guard found nothing out of the ordinary.

A sparrow landed on the shattered window pane and looked into the home. It pecked at a bit of glass at its feet before looking inquisitively into the room where the two mares sat in awkward silence.

The changeling kept looking at what was left of her windows. She sighed, sipped her tea and fiddled with her dozing hatchling. Cadence hid her embarrassment from her outburst by concentrating on her tea. Wilda sipped at her own cup, going over the conversation which had followed the princess’ sudden appearance and awe inspiring outburst. Wilda was very much impressed with the set of lungs of her ruler.

“Well,” Wilda said slowly after a long and uneasy silence.

“I said I was sorry.”

“I’ve never heard the Voice before. It’s impressive.”

“Thank you. Princess Celestia taught me.”

Wilda sipped her tea. “Do you think I could learn it?”

Cadence gave the brood mother a quizzical look. “I suppose. Why would you want to?”

Reign snuggled closer to her, stretching out a hoof before curling it back to his body. Maggie adjusted to his movement, grunting. A hind leg kicked feebly. Both were entwined with each other, inseparable. Cadence had lifted a wing the moment she felt her son shift. Both mothers smiled softly at the adorable display. There was a sudden want for a camera. It would have made wonderful evidence in later years, should either Maggie or Reign give their mothers sass.

“It seems like a useful tool,” said Wilda with a shrug. She selected a biscuit and nibbled on it daintily. “Can only you use it? Alicorns, I mean?”

Cadence settled her wing over the sleeping foals. They had a long night and had only fallen asleep moments ago. She swirled her tea thoughtfully.

“It can be taught. It requires magic and learning how to control your vocal chords with that magic. It’s not hard to learn, but it is difficult to master.”

Silence fell over the room. Cadence decided she had enough of looking at the broken glass. “Do you mind?” she asked politely.

“Mind what?” Wilda blinked while reaching for the teapot for a refill.

“I’d like to mend the glass.”

“Oh! Well, that would be nice, considering it was your fault,” allowed the mare cheekily.

The princess allowed a quiet chuckle as her horn flared. Effortlessly, what had been shattered lifted from the pile swept up earlier by Wilda while Cadence had apologized profusely for the mess. There were whole city blocks suffering from the same problem at the moment. It would take a couple of days and a dip into the city coffers, but everything could be made right, one window at a time.

Wilda watched as the alicorn princess effortlessly unleashed a mending spell. Shards of glass swirled in an aura of magic, seeking out where they had broken apart and clicking together. It was like watching glass breaking in reverse. Fascinated, the hatchling watched with huge and wondering eyes as magic happened. Sunlight gleamed and reflected, putting on a mild prismatic display as the glass mended and settled upright into the window frame. One by one, the other windows in the room mended.

“If only changeling magic could be manipulated as easily as that,” commented Wilda. “Ours is suited for illusions and disguises. And hunting.” She sipped her tea.

They had been avoiding getting into the details of Reign’s nightmare. A quick explanation was given, but Cadence felt something was off. Wilda was aware of it. The alicorn needed time to process what happened to her son. It did not sound like a night terror. She considered consulting Luna.

Cadence lifted her wing and looked at Maggie and Reign. She smiled.

“They’re so precious,” she said. Her muzzled nodded towards the sleeping brood. “They’re all precious.”

Wilda refilled her friend’s teacup. “I consider our friendship precious. I remember how terribly frightened you were upon seeing us those years ago. I remember how you had once thought to quarantine all of us because of what happened in Canterlot. You told me this because you were afraid, but you did not want to do it. Your husband wanted to. He wanted to protect ponies. He wanted to protect you. I was afraid I would lose my shop.”

“That was before I met you. That was before Reign and Maggie.”

“Strange how events create such odd bedfellows.”

“I consider you a dear friend, now.”

Wilda sipped her tea. “I know. Your husband showed great courage against his fears by bringing Reign here himself. Were you truly unable to come yourself?”

“Griffons can be as impossible as they are imposing.”

“Such is the way of foreign politics, I suppose.” She paused, glancing at Cadence. “I was once sure you would take up my offer those years ago, to take everything from me. I had been chosen to speak for the community. I did not want to, but the others were far too afraid after they heard what had happened.”

Cadence closed her eyes and shook her head. “I would never do such a thing. I was afraid of what you implied when you made the offer. We knew so little of changelings.”

“What we knew of ponies was different than what the forgotten generations who had been trapped here for so long. You alicorns terrify us. You truly do. We had our own legends of what the princesses were capable of. The recollections of those who witnessed their might....”

“I read the reports.” Cadence shook her head. “I’ve never known my aunts to be of a violent nature. Luna, I can see. Celestia, she thinks of herself as everyone’s mother and guide. She loves all living things.”

“I should think if I was not with you if either of them showed up, I should faint.”

The alicorn laughed, causing the nymphs to stir. “I rather doubt that, Wilda!”

“It is the truth!” insisted Wilda, not at all being serious. “And I would embarass myself before my children and live the rest of my life in shame, sitting behind the counter of my shop and wondering why I have no customers.”

Cadence snorted.

“Rolled on my back, legs sticking up in the air,” supplied the broodmother.

“Stop, you’ll wake them!” stifled the mare, her sides heaving.

“Tongue hanging out. Me drooling on the floor.”

The image she conjured up was too much to bear. Cadence giggled insanely. Wilda followed suit. Though she was not royalty, the pressures of what other changelings expected of her as their speaker might as well have stuck a crown upon her head.

A decade of bonding had turned to mares who, under other circumstances suspicious at best, into a pair of mothers who only wanted what was best for their children. Both wanted changelings and ponies to coexist with each other as peaceably as possible. Both had a strong dislike of Zeala, whom both were sure was up to something.

The priestess had kept her profile to a footnote as of late, doing her duties and always accessible. With her temple complete, there were a lot of blessing rituals she insisted on being done that were as ancient as the Sisters. The Princess of Love had felt what had gone on in the changeling temple. As did any changeling with senses acute enough for long range emotional detection.

A lot of primal lust.

Thankfully, the love emitted by the Crystal Heart muted a lot of what was flowing from the temple. Still, a lot of changeling mares steered their easily impressionable nymphs from the grounds. The temple grounds were popular with the single crowd. Cadence always found herself blushing furiously when she tried to touch the raw emotions coming from the building. She had wondered about asking Father Sun Cloud and Preceptor Starcaller if they had felt anything, but the very idea asking ponies of the cloth if they were feeling aroused felt wrong on several levels. To this point, there were no complaints and no reports of acolytes of either the Sun of the Moon acting weird.

Her own temple was silent...then again, Cadence had yet to ordain anypony to speak on her behalf. She refused to ordain anyone, so it remained empty of clergy while remaining open to the public from sunrise to sunset, with a guard posted at its door to allow the rare nightly visitor upon request.

She had asked Zeala how long the rituals were going to take not too long ago. The reply had been a year. The rituals had begun three weeks ago.

As if sharing her thoughts, Wilda cleared her throat. “I expect there will be a lot of eggs to be coming. There will be a population boom.”

“Pardon?”

“The Temple. Your emotions suggest you are thinking of it.”

“Ah, yes. It’s distracting.”

“It is a joyous occasion,” reminded Wilda with twinkling eyes. “There will be many happy first time mothers and worried first time fathers. I remember when Shadow was but an egg.”

“Your first son?”

“Indeed. I was only half the size I am now. Young myself. Sixteen. Married to an aspiring officer in my queen’s army. When I laid that egg, I was so happy, as though no burden in the world could bring me down.” She laughed lightly, selected a random nymph and nuzzled. “I poured so much love into that egg, I thought I was going to pass out from dizziness.”

Cadence once balked at such a young age. But, Wilda had told this story before. She was rather fond of reminiscing about her brood. She found boundless joy in talking about laying eggs, feeding them her love and the day of their hatching.

“I have never asked you about your upbringing,” the changeling noted. “You were born a pegasus, but ascended in a manner similar to young Princess Twilight Sparkle. The story is quite well-known, but little is known about the filly before the ascension.”

“Well,” Cadence sighed, a little smile forming on her lips, “I suppose I really don’t tell much of my life before I became an alicorn.” She inhaled the scent of sleeping changelings, noting again and with neverending surprise how clean and wholesome— not unlike pony foals.

“I was an orphan. I don’t know who my real birth parents were, but I was adopted by a very nice earth pony couple. Earth ponies tend to have large families, like the Apple Family. Nowhere near as impressive as yours, Wilda, of course.”

Wilda beamed. “Of course!”

Cadence refilled Wilda’s tea and went on. “I was the third foal of what eventually became five. Mother and father both worked were farmers. Corn, soybeans. Typical farmer things. I loved spending my days with my friends and my adopted brothers and sisters. We played so many games! We chased each other, ran from each other. Our town was small, maybe half the size of Ponyville. You know of Ponyville?” she asked Wilda.

“I know of Ponyville,” said Wilda, raising her teacup. “It is a silly name. There is a tree castle there. A kingdom within a kingdom. It makes no sense.”

Cadence detected humor in her friend’s voice. “A lot of what we ponies do don’t make sense,” she admitted, feeling Reign snuggle against her side. The moment he moved, Maggie moved. Wilda chuckled and Cadence caught her eyes watching a leg poking out from beneath her wing, twitching a little spasm.

“As I was saying, I grew up in a large family. A large family in a small community stands out. Everypony knows who you are and everypony looks out for each other. It was a simple life. We had a one room school. I suppose you could say it was backwards, now that I think about it.”

“Where in Equestria was this?”

“Ah, just north of Las Pegasus in a little mountain valley. Sort of a backwards place, really. Nice and quiet. We received few visitors from beyond the valley. The one road was closed off half the year because of snow and avalanches. I was the only pegasus in the whole town. They were all earth ponies. Warm and welcoming to everypony who came to visit.”

She noticed nymphs slowly rousing from sleep and turning curiously to the sound of her voice.

“So...you were an orphan?” A hint of sadness was in Wilda’s voice. “It was very noble and good you were adopted. Do you hear from your adoptive parents?”

Cadence’s face fell and she felt a pang of loss. “The day I ascended, it frightened them. It frightened them greatly. Celestia felt my ascension and came that very day. There were many guards with her. She frightened the townsfolk far less than her presence simply overawed them. They not only knew who she was, but to them, she was also The Sun Goddess. I remember so many ponies throwing themselves at her hooves and begging forgiveness for daring to keep me down to their level of existence. They honestly thought they had offended Celestia and believed she was there to take revenge for having me among them. Celestia was very hurt by this assumption. None of her reassuring words could ease the fear from those ponies. I have tried to write my parents, to tell them I am well and that I miss them. I have never received a reply, save from one of my brothers.” She sniffled as if the memory was as fresh as if it had happened yesterday. “They believed I had gone far beyond them, that they are beneath my notice. I was asked to never contact them again with hopes my new life is prosperous and good.”

“What a sad tale,” murmured Wilda. “I hope I did not offend by asking of your past.”

“Oh, I try not to let the past rule me. Life is full of unexpected turns. I still think of my parents and brothers and sisters and remember the kindness they showed before I grew this horn. Those were happy years. I hurt for long time after, but I had a patient and loving guide. Celestia adopted me as her niece and began to prepare me for my current role.”

“Still,” she murmured, tilting towards her son, “I think it prepared me in a way for him. Though he is not technically an orphan, he was abandoned.”

“In a fashion, yes.” Wilda nodded curtly, refilling her friend’s teacup. The changeling nibbled another biscuit while she ruminated on Cadence’s story. The nymphs were slowly coming to wakefulness and she began to give them some love as a jump start. The effect was almost immediate.

“Morning, Momma,” said Rose through a yawn. “Thank you. Where’s Poppa?”

“He is currently doing the laundry.”

The nymph’s ears splayed out and she made a sour face. “Oh.”

“Run a bath.”

“But we bathed—”

“It’s not for them. If we’re going to the park today, the rest of you need to be squeaky clean. I’ll make breakfast for when you are done.” Wilda smiled at Cadence. “Care to join us on our family outing today? Or is your schedule full today?”

Cadence gave a moment of thought. “I do believe my day has suddenly become boring-free. I’ll notify my seneschal to clear everything. I’m feeling my son will need me today. Might I help you with breakfast?”

“I could use an extra pair of hooves.”

“Good. While the little ones get ready, I’d like to talk to you about Reign’s incident. It needs to be discussed in detail and in private. The whole thing stinks of High Heaven.”

“I agree. Perhaps consulting the Princess of the Night would help clear some of the confusion away. I do not think it was a night terror.”

“Nor do I.”

The nymphs were awake and they were hungry. There were groans from those who had to take a bath, but Rose followed her mother’s character and brokered no backtalk, herding the groggy group towards the bath. Reign and Maggie were the last to be roused (having perhaps the most comfortable alicorn in the world to sleep against) and dragged hooves after them (Maggie not so much dragging as bouncing).

Those that remained instinctively went under Wilda’s hooves as she rose with the majesty of a queen and daintily made tracks towards the kitchen, her hatchling moved with her magic into her pouch. Cadence followed suit and the pair went forth, girded to make breakfast for an army of young changelings.

Author's Note

I thought a look into the relationship between Wilda and Cadence would be nice. Maybe shed a little light on to why Cadence would be so willing to forge ahead in accepting changelings as a part of her life. I like to think it's a part of her nature to love all things, despite the hardship said things might have incurred upon her. She is the Alicorn of Love, after all.

Also, this is unedited as I am an impatient writer. Here's the Gdoc link.

https://docs.google.com/document/d/19jwpNvO50ro1B4SehRIF4jR3R-DR0KsoMIGRomXIA8k/edit

Do you like the shorter chapters? Let me know. I'll adjust my writing as I go. Still learning how to make words to make pretty sentences. Me Scarheart. Me make tpyos. Many Thai-pohs.

17. The Park and the Court

Reign Cloud and Maggie played with her two brothers and gaggle of sisters in a simplified game of hoofball. Reign was more tagging along while Maggie was in the middle of the fun. The park they played within was long and narrow, ringed with cottonwood and oak trees planted a few years ago. At one time, the park had been a monument to a mad king, filled with statues of grotesque scenes and conquests, always having Sombra gloating over his hapless subjects, reminding them who had the power.

Now, it was home to two ponds, park benches, two playgrounds and a large, grassy ball field. There was plenty of shade from the sun. One such shady tree sheltered a pair of mothers: one bearing charcoal gray chitin, the other of pink and purple feathers and fur. A large checkered blanket was spread out beneath them. Several picnic baskets were arrayed in a neat row to one side. Yamir was dozing next to his wife. His morning had been very long.

Cadence held Wilda’s hatchling in her forehooves. The charge in question nibbled on the tip of the princess’ hoof while Wilda put a camera to good use. She noted the hatchling had very small and needle-like teeth. The huge brood mother had an even bigger smile between her coos and giggles at her adorable and newest addition to her impressive family as she tried in vain to get her new daughter to look at her. Zinnia was oblivious as her eyesight gave her the world in a big blob of colors at this stage of her budding life.

The hoof was winning the attention contest. It was there, warm, and jiggled. Zinnia attacked it feebly, but with happy abandon. It would ruin Cadence’s hooficure, but what was a ruined hoof compared to the adorableness of a playful hatchling?

There were guards everywhere, obvious without being obtrusive. Everywhere else, there were changeling families at play, along with a smattering of Crystal ponies. An odd tourist appeared here and there, most of them giving the changelings wide berths.

“Hey! Your momma looks pretty happy to have little Zinnia to play with!” Maggie stopped running and hooked Reign with a leg, pointing him at Cadence. The ball skimmed away on the grass, chased by laughing and screaming nymphs.

He looked in time to see his mother puffing her cheeks and blowing a raspberry at Zinnia. “Yeah,” Reign said. He had tried all morning to be in a good mood. The dream from last night followed him like an unwanted shadow. Straying too far from his mother made him anxious. Every moment spared was to see and make sure she was there, watching.

“You shouldn’t be scared, Reigny,” Maggie told him sternly. “I won’t let anything happen to you!”

The colt turned his head slowly, watching the game as it barrelled from them, the nymphs too wrapped up in chasing the ball and laughing to notice the two had fallen from the group. The air had warmed since yesterday and the breeze only felt slightly less cold than he was used to. Blue eyes flickered towards the massively maned changeling filly, filled with worry.

“Promise?” he asked in earnest, his ears refusing to come up.

Maggie leaned into his shoulder with her own. “Why so glum-glum? Was the dream that bad? I dream about the history of the changelings all the time! Poppa says it's how we remember. The magic isn’t supposed to be good or bad, but the truth. At least, that’s what he says.”

“Promise me, Maggie.”

“You silly goose! Of course I promise!” She nuzzled him and gave him a hug. “Come on! They’re having fun and you’re not. There’s something definitely wrong with that.”

Grumpily he told her, “I’m tired.”

Her ears flattened and she deflated. “Thinking about your dream?”

“Yeah.” He sighed. “It felt so real. I don’t know what it means or why it was so scary. It was worse than any nightmare I had ever had before.” A melancholy mood settled over him like a cold blanket. The Halfling was also fighting his angry urges, biting back the retort at the obvious question.

Maggie chirped with worry, fidgeting her wings and nuzzling her Intended. He was starting down the path to grouchiness. All the signs were there. He would be snippy and start growling, generally being unpleasant. She glanced over at her mother and the princess, pursing her lips. If they knew or even suspected Reign was ill, he would be taken inside and stuffed into a bed. Reign would become Bubble Colt and she would be denied visits until the alicorn had sent for Zeala. It was usually eat up a day or two with Reign bedridden and grumpy, Zeala lording over the castle, making ridiculous demands, as per usual. The priestess knew the nymph could not bear being told she could not see her Intended. Some excuse would erupt from between those fangs and Maggie wouldn’t be allowed to see Reign for days.

That could not happen.

Thinking quickly, Maggie spied a changeling vendor selling soft pretzels and drinks. Usually, getting something to eat helped settle Reign down. Food made him happy. Momma had brought food, but if the changeling filly so much as uttered a word in regards to Reign’s listless demeanor, the picnic would be declared over and the day would no longer be enjoyable as they would have to spend the remainder of it home. It was rare Reign was outside in public like this. This was the first time he had ever been in a park dominated by changelings. As a matter in fact, she noted as she scanned the area, there were no ponies save for the princess and a few guards keeping a respectful distance.

Her sister Rose approached, hovering on buzzing wings. She was a few years older than Maggie and was budding into a lovely young changeling mare. “Sister? Is something wrong with the prince?” She blinked, settling on her hooves and leaning in to sniff at Reign. “Why isn’t he playing with us?”

“I’m right here,” muttered Reign.

“Don’t tell Momma or the princess will take Reign away!” She grabbed her sister with a hoof and yanked her in. A conspiratorial whisper hissed from the mad-maned filly’s lips. “We just need to get him some food. Do you have any bits?” Food would help. Lunch wasn’t for another hour or two.

“Bits?” Rose parroted.

Maggie pointed at the vendor. “Yes. Bits. Shiny round objects of either gold, silver, or copper. Usually used as a means to purchase goods and services. Also known as money.”

“I know that, dummy! Why would I want to buy you something?” groused Rose. She was stingy with her money. The older changeling glowered at her adopted sibling.

“If it is not too much trouble,” offered Reign apologetically. He smiled a smile taught to him by his mother. It worked on his father, the castle staff, and the guards. It also seemed to work on suddenly blushing young changelings, too. The debate died right then and there. He knew what Maggie had in mind, flicking his tongue to the corner of his mouth. His stomach rumbled like a demanding god.

“Um, okay. Let me get my bit bag.”

Rose was blushing blue through her chitin. Her brothers and sisters began to call to them, their game paused as they were suddenly down three players. Suddenly the whole swarm was around the trio, bombarding them with questions. Words like ‘pretzel’ and ‘hungry’ made for a deadly combination. The elder filly was bamboozled into offering to buy pretzels for all with another devastating smile from Prince Reign Cloud.

Maggie glared at him. Leaning in, she brushed her muzzle against one of his ears and whispered, “Don’t make me jealous, Reigny. You wouldn’t like me when I’m jealous.”

Reign grinned, a rare thing considering his usual grumpy moods. The pair locked eyes for a moment before both started laughing at each other. The boy’s laugh was weak as Maggie’s laugh carried the weight of a meaningful glare. Mocking or not, she was bigger than him and was deadly with her noogie attacks.

“C’mon, guys! Let’s get pretzels!” shouted one of Maggie’s brothers. A cheer went up from the changelings and they marched with purpose towards the vendor. Soft pretzels were a favorite among young changelings.

Reign cast a nervous glance towards Wilda and Cadence. Both were watching idly. His mother still had Zinnia between her hooves while Wilda chatted. Zinnia was having the time of her life with a pink hoof. The two offered token glances in their directions. Both showed signs of being completely relaxed and unsuspicious. Their smiles were good enough indicators. Reign and Maggie sighed in relief.

“Momma’s gonna get mad when she sees us eating junk food,” moaned Violet, who was a year younger than Maggie.

“Look, Reign needs to eat something. He’s not feeling well.”

“Oh. Is it that... thing you were talking about? The illness?”

“No, his dream is still bothering him.”

“That’s silly. Dreams can’t hurt him or anyone!”

Reign sighed. “Still here.” He was ignored.

“I know that! Everyling knows that!” Maggie shook her head, clucking her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “Look. He needs to eat something or Momma will see he’s not well. Princess Cadence will see he’s not well and she’ll take my Reigny from me!” Maggie narrowed her eyes at Violet. “Not. Going. To. Happen.”

“Okay! Okay! Sheesh!”

The next few minutes was Rose shelling out bits so pretzels could be had by all. The group herded off to one side and under a large tree, still within sight of the adults. They munched happily on their treat, each changeling thanking Rose for her grand sacrifice. Idly the ball was rolled between the circle of nymphs, giving the younger ones a chance to kick the bright red ball without having to compete with their larger brothers and sisters.

Eventually, the pretzels were little more than memories and scattered crumbs. The brothers drifted off, leaving Reign at the tender mercies of a swarm of girls. They had noted some other changeling fillies closer to their age and decided to investigate. Besides, Reign was weak and not much fun to rough house with. Especially with Momma and the Princess watching. Discretely, they hovered off, offering quick smiles and a hurried words before chasing after girls. Maggie would not let him out of her sight now, assuming the role of caretaker/paranoid friend.

“Can I ask you guys a question?” Reign fidgeted. The question had been burning in the back of his mind since he had time to figure out it had been a dream.

Maggie glanced back at her siblings, who each wore various masks of curiosity. Literally. They had each selected the faces of various ponies and assumed outrageous expressions. It was a practice their mother had taught them in order to cheer up any sibling feeling down.

Reign smiled despite himself. “Seriously. Can I ask you a question?” He adjusted his wings and flicked his tail. The colt wore his most serious (and Maggie thought adorable) expression.

Rose was the first to revert to her normal face. “What is it?”

“Do changelings dream about things other than their history?”

Maggie shook her head. “Nopers! We only dream what Poppa gives us in our storytimes right before bed. If we don’t get a lesson, we don’t dream that night. Changelings don’t dream. You know that, Reigny!”

“We dream about our family history and give our family history to those we bring into the family,” added Petunia, who was Maggie’s age. She was a slight nymph with typical solid blue eyes like most changelings. If Reign remembered correctly, Petunia would eventually grow into some sort of a hunter, something royal changelings would covet for their ranks of bodyguards. Maggie had told him Petunia would eventually grow into a massive mare.

“So, you don’t dream like ponies? Weird stuff?”

They were watched, of course.

“Excuse me,” called out a voice in a strange accent. Maggie, Rose, Petunia, and Reign turned to see a rather exotic looking colt with a short blonde mane and tail with a white front fading into thick black stripes towards his flanks. His rump and rear legs were completely black. Large, curious blue eyes watched them. Curiosity wafted from the newcomer, his attention shifting to the fillies, but mainly focused on Reign Cloud. “Are you Prince Reign Cloud?”

The colt blinked, his nostrils flaring as he inhaled a new scent. “I am. Who are you?”

“I am Enigma. I am the son and heir of Prince Blueblood, my father and Prince of Equestria, Ambassador to the Zebra Confederacy and Enya Smokehoof, my mother and Shaman of the Wind and Earth, Caretaker of Peace. On behalf of my father and my family, I humbly ask for your forgiveness for the transgressions my father has in the past placed upon you and your family. I humbly submit myself to your judgement.” The odd colt bowed, then prostrated himself upon the grass.

“Huh?” Reign asked intelligently.

“He means ‘wat?’,” Maggie supplied helpfully.

I am not at the top of my game. I am not in the right frame of mind for this!

Shining Armor was in charge. Normally, he did not mind filling in for Cadence. Today was no exception. His wife had left him with the boring but necessary details needed to keep a kingdom from imploding from all the drudgery and demands of democracy while she dealt with Reign’s nightmare. Naturally, she would not leave him, not now. The nobility were being absurdly facetious, as was the norm. Shining would have thought it comical if not for the culture shock alone accounting for several unfortunate incidents over the years since his wife ascended the throne. Suicide rates accounted for a lot of premature deaths as some Crystal ponies simply could not cope with this new world. A thousand years behind and falling victim to the ruthlessness of democracy sweeping the citizens of the Crystal Empire had reduced them to little more than mewling malcontents in the eyes of the Prince Consort.

Of course, this made him feel like a boor, almost as bad as the nobles back at Canterlot. Shining Armor was a soldier. He was no politician. He neither the patience nor the knack for the intrigue. He was blunt, fair, and hated the verbal sparring. Cadence, of course was sympathetic to their crumbling way of life and tried to guide them through their changes with subtle hints and kindness.

“Kill them with kindness,” was what she would often remind her husband.

He had a sword made. Upon receiving the sword, he named it Kindness. Of course, nopony other than Cadence knew about the silly thing and his lovely and understanding wife thought the symbolism not at all what she meant. She let him keep the sword, so long as it remained locked in a wardrobe closet in their bedroom. Shining had no intention of showing anypony or anyone else the blade, but the idea made him chuckle to himself whenever a boorish noble tried to argue something of little to no merit.

He reserved his thoughts for less than a handful of nobles, actually. Shining Armor was a paragon when it came to his desire to protect those who had no means to. Even if it was nobles who were now only so in name and little else.

Right now, he was alone in the throne room, save for the usual arrangement of guards and his wife’s advisor. One day of the week was set aside for all those who wished an audience with either Princess Cadence or Prince Consort Shining Armor to come before the Crystal Throne and make their pleas to the understanding and fair ears of the Royal Court. He was considering moving court from the throne room to someplace a bit less formal and imposing. King Sombra had built big, with the intent of making visitors to the Crystal Castle feel small and insignificant. It was a place of beauty, to be sure, but not suited to Shining Armor’s tastes at all. He was a military stallion and preferred his surroundings simple and uncomplicated.

He sighed, bearing the worry for his son upon his mind. It was difficult to push it aside, but his wife insisted on going. And by insisting, she meant by flying into a frightening display of motherly protectiveness once word reached her through the message sent by those sent to keep watch over the Heir. The pressure of her magic was impressive as she teleported away. Her command had improved considerably since the wedding. Cadence had even insisted on combat training since the wedding. Shining was reluctant to do so, but his wife was very persuasive.

“Let’s get this over with,” he muttered under his breath. Reign needed him. His boy was a good colt. If only...if only! Damn that sickness slowly eating his son!

“Highness?” queried his wife’s advisor. Sierra Mist was a small Crystal pony with a powder blue coat and straw colored mane and tail.

“Let me see the list of petitioners.”

Sierra smiled and handed over a scroll bearing his wife’s seal. Shining opened it and noted the first name was not one he was familiar with. “Who is this?” He pointed a hoof at the name and tilted the paper so the advisor could see.

She scrunched her brows and peered at the top of the list. “Ah, I do believe he’s a changeling delegate representing a queen. Your wife the Princess was notified of his visit yesterday evening. Were you not informed by Her Highness?”

Shining Armor sighed and searched his memories. Naturally, they were a bit addled as he had very little sleep last night. The discussion with Cadence popped to mind. “He was a last minute addition, wasn’t he?” He stared at the list. What sort of name is Silent Wing, anyways?

“It’s possible he is from one of the queens fighting Queen Chrysalis requesting aid,” suggested the advisor. “He is an odd one, even for a changeling. He has been silent in regards to who he serves. Very secretive fellow. Ambassador Seeadler knows him. Would you like one of our guards to send for him? He has an open schedule today, if I recall. We do have an hour before we have the first audience.”

The stallion nodded once. “Do it. I want to know what is going on. Do we have a file on Silent Wing? Do we know what queen he serves? Why wasn’t I notified earlier?”

“My Lord, my apologies, but you were given his file last week. The arrangement was made last month for his visit.” Sierra Mist noted her Prince Consort’s confusion. “High Priestess Zeala will be arriving soon to act as mediator.” Her look of concern made Shining wince. “My Prince, are you well?”

“Fine! I’m fine. Maybe I simply have had too much on my plate lately,” he said reassuringly. “I’ll be all right. When is Zeala supposed to be here?”

“Any moment, my Lord.”

Shining nodded and cast a slow look around the massive throne room. He shook his head. “Move everything to my wife’s tea room. It’s a lot less formal and more welcoming.”

“Very good, my Lord. Anything else?”

He perused the list again. “Blueblood?”

“He was a last minute addition. The Prince of Equestria only arrived early this morning on the first train. Just put on this morning when one of the other petitioners for an audience with the Crown had to cancel due to a death in the family.”

“Where is he right now?”

“Asleep in one of the guest quarters. He brought his family with him.”

The unicorn blinked. “I see.”

“He has been abroad for the past eight years, My Lord.”

The early throbbings of an unwanted headache began to form. “Does my wife know?”

“Not yet, my Lord.”

“Send somepony to let her know, please.”

“As you wish, my Lord.”

The Prince Consort heaved a great sigh, his focus going distant as he jogged his mind for useful thoughts. They uncharacteristically drifted. For years Shining Armor had tried to break the formality of the palace staff. Sierra Mist was a very good pony and an even better advisor, but she had been indoctrinated with court etiquette to the point where it was impossible to get her to alter her habits to something a little softer. Being called ‘My Lord’ gave him a headache and nothing he could do could break the habit. Cadence tried to soften up the formalities around the castle, but she found out much to her chagrin there was an actual school specifically meant to train ponies who hoped to work for the nobility or, in her case, the Royal Family.

This meant whatever foals they might have could never be friends with Reign Cloud, for the simple fact he was royalty and they were commoners. It was another stain on the Crystal Empire the Alicorn of Love was working to get rid of. To this point, her successes were few.

Shining Armor recalled when she first suggested getting some foals Reign’s age some years ago from the servants together for a play date. The horrified ponies under her employment nearly panicked at the mere suggestion. Sombra’s reign was still very much fresh on their minds.

Resigned to a temporary setback, as it was in her mind, the princess then turned to the nobility. Much to her shock, Sombra’s touch upon the nobility was far, far worse. Rather than mingle their foals with each other with hopes of forming fast friendships and ties between houses, the tyrant had turned the houses upon each other. Distrust and suspicion was rife and corruption riddled almost all the noble houses of the empire.

The introduction of Maggie into Reign Cloud’s life both Sun and Moon blessed. It was one of the few things Zeala had done both Shining and Cadence could agree was one of the best things for their son.

Shaking himself from his wandering thoughts, he said slowly, “Let’s go ahead and have the griffon ambassador join us, as well.” Shining reasoned since the griffons had more intimate contacts with the elusive changelings beyond his kingdom, Seeadler might offer more insight as to what this changeling visitor might present. “He should have more insight.”

He rose from the throne and dismissed Sierra Mist with a nod, adding, “You’ll know where I’ll be. Send them when they get here.”

“Of course, My Lord.”

"And bring me that file on Silent Wing!" The Prince Consort looked cool and calm, but he was already beginning to wonder if there were strings being pulled and he was the puppet.

Author's Note

Here's the next chapter. I apologize for the delay, but chapters with transitions are hard for me to write. Hopefully, this will get things going for what I have planned in the future. Thank you for you patience!

If you see a typo, kill it with fire.

18: The Death of a Couch

The tea room was one of the few rooms in the castle not overly lavish. It had Cadence’s touch of being welcoming, inviting, and comfortable for visitors. For Shining Armor, he preferred the simplicity it offered as well as the feeling of home it gave him. The tea set was a wedding gift from his mother and father. It was fine china, having been passed down through the Sparkle family for many generations. It was an heirloom, actually, almost four centuries of ponies had sipped tea from the old cups. An old enchantment kept it from chipping. It had to be renewed once a year, but all in all, the old set had held up well and looked as good as the day it made.

The gigantic changeling holding a tea cup, while sitting in a loveseat, threatened to break both with its sheer size and bulk. Silent Wing was named so because, simply, he had no wings. He was nearly two tons of changeling military command given the role of ambassador for a queen he had yet to announce under which he served. He was so massive he could barely fit through the double doors and those things were, in Shining Armor’s mind, pretty darned wide. His carapace was dark. The light reflecting off him showed darker stripes running the length of his naturally armored frame. His horn was massive, nearly three feet long and jagged. It curved wickedly.

Yet the Prince Consort smiled nervously at the changeling, noting how its thick armored chitin was slowly destroying the upholstery of the loveseat. Silent Wing was literally made for war and a tea room was a horrible, horrible, horrible place to have him.

“Sugar for your tea?” he asked politely, hoping desperately the tea cup would survive and even forgive him for letting such a monster handle it. Of course, that was silly. Tea sets could not talk, unless they were enchanted to do so and with pre recorded messages. “Cream?”

“Ssssugaaaaaar, yessss pleeeeasssse,” rumbled the monstrous changeling, holding out his teacup. “Two lumpssss.”

Dutifully, the unicorn doled out the required lumps while having an unbidden image of him whacking Silent over his head with a mallet coming to mind. He smiled it away and plopped in two cubes of the requested sugar. He paused at the creamer.

“Noooo creeeeeaaam!” he hissed, a deep and resonating voice shaking the room. “Lactosssse intoleraaaaant.”

Smiling again, and a bit forcibly, Shining Armor set aside the cream. Where the was Zeala? She needed to get her skinny butt here so she could translate Changeling to Equestrian. “Of course. How long have you studied Equestrian?”

“Haaaatessss it. Like sssssspeaking prim-i-tive.” Silent Wing ate the tea cup. It crunched in his powerful jaws. “Ssssspeak of weaklingsssss.”

A pitiful and poorly concealed whimper escaped from Shining Armor as the tea cup ceased to be. It was replaced with irritation. The changeling was baiting him. Thankfully, the door opened and the priestess walked in, buzzing her translucent wings with a flourish.

“Ah, Prince Shining Armor! I do apologize for my lateness. The festival has been a bit… festive.” She smiled, revealing her long fangs. The unicorn noted an odd scent emanating from her form. Her eyes could not help but be drawn to the giant torturing the love seat. “Oh, my, you must be Silent Wing.” A series of clicks and chirps erupted from her throat as she chatted up Silent Wing. He responded with a deeper set of clicks and chitters. She blushed, then laughed behind a hoof as she turned away to compose herself.

“What did he say?” Shining perked his ears forward, wondering if he could cast a translation spell. He was reminded of the ward on the ceiling certain magics could not be cast in the tea room.

“He asked if I had been bred lately,” she replied nonchalantly.

It was the Prince Consort’s turn to blush. “I...see.” He cleared his throat and stood, remembering his manners. “Please, sit wherever you like. I apologize on behalf of my wife. She could not make it, as our son needed her attention.”

Zeala did so, pursing her lips as she assumed a mask of worry. “Oh? Is Reign ill? His regimen is not due for another two weeks. You should have informed me, my dear prince.”

“He had a night terror.”

She sat down. “Oh! The poor dear!” It was difficult to tell if she was sincere or not. “Changelings do not dream in the conventional way you ponies do. It must be a horrible thing for him!” Her smile, he thought, was oily.

“Tea?” He offered.

“Oh, none for me. The caffeine would not mesh well with the ceremonial fluids I am required to ingest during the festival. It is an aphrodisiac.” She noted his wild stare. “Oh, it only affects changelings. You have no worries. However, our large friend will become amorous. Which is why he will be going to the temple right after the meeting. His seed will be welcome there.”

Fluids? Shining Armor was afraid to ask. “Seed?” And there it was! His last encounter with a changeling which had the peculiar scent Zeala now sported had, at the time, bore him with a wonderful son… and Zeala reeked of it. As his mind clicked on what the scent was, he began to shudder inwardly. Memories of a passionate night flickered to the front of his thoughts, distracting him. “Are you sure about that? I don’t think I feel comfortable right now.”

“I assure you, Shining Armor, you are perfectly safe. Let us get down to business then, shall we?”

Shortly after Zeala was seated and comfortable, Ambassador Seeadler strode through the same doors she had just come through. The old griffon ruffled his feathers and flared his wings proudly. His talons clicked on the marbled floor, the lion’s tail twitching indifferently. Eagle eyes locked on Silent Wing. His beak snapped open and closed, clicking loudly. The griffon tilted his head to one side, regarding the massive changeling.

“You are a Warling.”

“Warling?” Shining Armor asked.

“A living, breathing fighting machine. Tenacious fighters. Powerful. Cunning. Deadly... What’s he doing here? Is he the bodyguard of the changeling ambassador?”

“He is the changeling ambassador,” Zeala said with a laugh. She chirped at the giant. “This is Silent Wing, Ambassador Seeadler. He is a general. A High General, if I remember my markings correctly.”

“Tea?” Offered Shining lamely to the griffon ambassador.

“No. Tea is for knitting mothers, not warriors. Thank you.” Seeadler made himself at home and sat in a plush chair next to Shining Armor. His eyes never left Silent Wing. Then, without warning, he began speaking the changeling language almost as rapidly as Zeala had just moments ago.

This baffled Shining Armor.

The Warling responded. If he was surprised the ambassador could speak, he gave no indication. Zeala listened in, smiling and nodding. She noticed the absolutely lost look on the unicorn’s face.

“Would you like for me to translate for you, my prince?” she asked politely.

He nearly recoiled from her, but stopped short. “If you would. I would use a translation spell, but the room is warded against eavesdropping. Unfortunately, it means I can’t use magic to let me understand.”

“It wouldn’t work, anyways,” Zeala said as she waved a hoof in the air lazily. “The languages are essentially opposite of each other in nearly all the key areas. There are currently no spells capable of breaking them down with absolute perfection.” She kept her voice low as not to interrupt the griffon and changeling while they chatted. “You could use a spell and maybe have a chance at getting half of it right. The rest of it would be very confusing and lead to misunderstandings.”

“I’m sure my sister would figure it out. I’m afraid I’m not quite as astute in the field of magic as she is.” Shining gave a helpless laugh. He indicated the conversation. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say they know each other.”

She nodded. “They do. Warling Silent Wing is a general serving under Queen Chrysalis, as you call her.”

“Chrysalis?” He didn’t mean for the exclamation to interrupt everything.

Zeala sipped her tea. “Indeed.” She turned to Silent Wing and said something. The giant considered her words, then shifted his head slightly in the unicorn’s direction. He replied curtly, his jaws rippling along his lips, revealing fangs that would leave a dragon envious.

“Indeed,” she breathed. “Prince Shining Armor, it would appear the good general has brought an offering of peace between Equestria and the Changeling Empire. She is prepared to offer reparations.”

“Changeling Empire?” Shining Armor blinked. “What empire?”

From somewhere within the folds of the giant’s armor, a scroll was produced and given to the prince. Shining took it after a moment’s hesitation, noting the seal bore a jagged horn imposed over what appeared to be an oval egg with insectoid wings flaring from it. Encircling the tip of the horn was a crown with seven points.

The giant spoke. “All Queenssss defeated. All thosssse who live sssserve. Thossse who do not are of dead. Make peaaaace.” He poked a hoof at the scroll now in Shining Armor’s magical grasp. “Open. Termssss for you to see. Offer for peace, pony. My queen commandssss for the sssake of her heir.””

He hefted the scroll, throwing detection spells upon it. It was heavily enchanted with protection spells. Stronger magic was within the scroll itself. Shining scried it. Spoken words were etched upon the parchment. The magic was very strong and very intricate. The patterns within spoke of a great deal of work had gone into creating it and even the words unseen within.

“I would advise you open it, my prince.” Zeala was eager to see what was in it. She practically leaned into Shining’s personal space. Her scent wafted into his nostrils, sending him reeling. He snorted and glared at her, half serious and almost rendered delirious.

So familiar… He shook his head violently and gently cleared his throat, giving her a meaningful glare. “If you please?” He shooed her back with a hoof, his heart thudding in his chest.

“Open the scroll,” Seeadler said, rolling his eyes. “Or would you rather look at it in private?” He glared at Zeala.

“I’m as curious as you,” she said defensively, pouring herself a cup of tea.

Shining noted her actions and the sudden interest in tea. He looked at Silent Wing. “Is this to be opened privately or openly?”

Zeala translated for him without batting an eye.

Seeadler watched her like a hawk.

Silent Wing responded. Zeala said for him, “Only your ears will hear. Only your eyes will see. What you chose to reveal can only come from your tongue.” She frowned, almost pouting.

“Damned magic,” snorted Seeadler. Griffons were disdainful of most forms of magic, but he leered at the priestess. She glared right back at him.

The unicorn sighed. “I guess I’m going to open it.” With a hesitant exhale, he broke the seal. The scroll came to life before him, snapping open until it was flat. It hovered, the words flaring with the magic as it came in contact with the air. Green flames erupted and the parchment angled away from Shining Armor. They danced and swirled as the words rose up from where they had been written. They condensed, spinning before Shining’s eyes, reflecting across his irises. A scent he knew from the depths of his memories, not unlike what Zeala wore and far less intrusive. It enticed his senses as an image to form.

It was without a doubt... her.

“Shining Armor.” That voice. “Years ago, I entrusted you with the most precious thing I have. My Pale Shadow. My one and only son. Our son.” Her form was regal and proud. Her mane concealed an eye. The other eye drank him in, as if Shining Armor was the only being in existence she cared to address. “I have fought for him, Shining Armor. Those who had desired the death of my son have been dealt with. The wars are over. There are still threats. Great threats to our son.” Her voice soothed. Commanded. Pleaded. “Continue protecting him for a little while longer.”

He blinked. Of course he would protect his son!

“Listen carefully, Shining Armor. I have a proposal in the form of an offering of peace between Equestria and the newly formed Empire I have built. I do not wish to have any lingering animosity between ponies and changelings. My eyes have been opened. Needless to say, I wish for us to work towards a peace. I have nothing of true substance to offer for the moment. This is a tentative offer of at least a cease-fire of the undeclared war I started years ago. I realize I cannot have Equestria. Nor do I wish to contend with four alicorns for power.”

His ears perked forward and he tilted his head to one side. Disbelief became him.

“I am prepared to offer a dragon’s hoard valued at six billion bits in exchange for peace and… several other concessions.” Her regal bearing did not change, but more steel affirmed her already commanding voice. “You must think I have no room to make demands, but I assure you, I have cards in my possession you would not even think possible. I do not wish to threaten you, nor your lovely wife… how is she, by the way? I would surely believe by now you two would have several little ones at your hooves.”

Her smile was perfectly innocent, but the glint in her eye was anything but.

“Never mind her failure to present you with sons and daughters. I have given you a son. I have allowed you to raise that son. These words are for you to consider and you alone. Even as I speak these words, you cannot speak what I say to you without my presence. It is a gaes, Shining Armor. Our son’s life hangs in the balance. There is a force at work in your kingdom conspiring against Reign Cloud. Something is shielding it. The magic of the Crystal Heart cannot touch it. I do not know why. I am led to believe it is Elder Magic at work here. This is ancient magic, Shining Armor. It is so old, it permeates everything and overrides most other magic. It is said it is all that is left of the Old Gods, before the time of the alicorns. Even the oldest of changeling history can only grasp into the darkness of the past and make nothing more than educated guesses.”

“Seek it out, Shining Armor. Find the source of this threat and eliminate it. I fear it has moved against our son already. Be wary of Zeala. She is of the caste of religious fanatics, though I do owe her a debt for the sanctuary she offered me when I sought it.

“However, I think she is responsible for the deaths of some of my agents I have sent to watch over my Pale Shadow. Dispose of her. The spell in this scroll should break you of the enchantment she has placed upon you. You were a fool to trust her, but she is cunning. She does not use conventional changeling means. Zeala wants Reign for something. I do not know what, but find out and stop her.”

She assumed pleading look. “Please. Shining Armor. I know you despise me. You have no reason to trust me. I do not want your trust. I want you to protect our son. He is the only one I will ever have. Time is running short. My sources are telling me Zeala is up to something big. Reign is in the middle of it.”

Anger flashed across her face. “This could have been prevented! You… you… did not know. How could you know? You and that princess of yours were so easily coerced. Perhaps I would have been better off putting my son in Canterlot. Celestia would have been a far better guardian, as much as I despise her self-righteousness.” She sighed and composed herself. “There is much in hindsight to reflect upon. Ultimately, it will do neither of us any good.”

She shifted on her hooves, becoming thoughtful. Her pose was demure. “Reign is a bright boy, isn’t he? Intelligent, like his mother, I should think. As handsome as his father. I look forward to revealing myself to him. I wonder if you have even told him about me. Nothing good, I would imagine.” Chrysalis frowned. “I should like to meet your wife ruler to ruler. She may select a neutral site where we might meet and discuss the future. Observe the Warling, Shining Armor. It would be...unwise and ill-advised to reject my offer. This will be the only window I will offer. The time is short. Forces move in the shadows and they have designs upon our son.

“I am coming, Shining Armor. If it will be under the banner of peace of the banner of war is completely up to you. Give your answer to my general. I await the moment when I might lay eyes upon you, my dear, stalwart stallion.”

The image faded. The scroll burst into flames, even the ashes disappearing to nothing.

Seeadler was startled. He squawked, “By the gods!”

The changelings accepted it as something commonplace. Silent Wing was massively impassive while Zeala gave Shining Armor and unsteady look.

“Something happened,” she said flatly.

“Yes.” Shining shifted to face her. “Something did. Tell me. What are you sensing right now? From me?” He gestured between the two of them.

“What do you mean?” Zeala was confused.

“She said things to me… I can’t remember them. What am I feeling?”

She studied him for a moment. “Very well. You are lost. Anger. Sadness. Perhaps a bit of relief. You are worried. You are afraid. Very much afraid. Something happened, that much is obvious. The power of the queen is formidable, indeed. I cannot break her magic.”

Shining gave her a wide stare.

She shrugged. “Habit. As a changeling of some gifts myself, I wanted to test myself against the enchantments of a queen. I must know if I can protect the changelings who look to me for support and protection.” The smile that had come with the shrug faded as she grew very serious. “This queen, this Chrysalis, as you call her, is powerful. I don’t know what her magic was like the last time you dealt with her, but I assure you, I would think her a threat to the likes of Princess Celestia. Most certainly a match for your wife, if not more so. She terrifies me.”

“As strong as Celestia?” Shining practically whispered.

“I highly doubt it. I could be wrong, Prince Consort. What she lacks in power she more than makes up for in her cunning and ruthlessness. Gauging magic from an enchanted scroll and the spells within is a poor way to understand the depths of the user’s ability, but it is a good clue.” Zeala tilted her head to one side. “I trust your wife has been keeping up on her combat training?”

“Three sessions a week, two to four hours each, depending on the instructor. I’ve been teaching her defensive magic, naturally.”

“Naturally,” she agreed good naturedly. Zeala turned her attention to the Warling. She spoke quickly. He rumbled in reply, his eyes blinking rapidly. “The general here wishes to have an answer to his queen’s demands this time tomorrow.”

Shining gaped at the priestess. “Cadence should be here,” he muttered to himself. To her, he spoke up and growled, “Why here? How do I know this isn’t some sort of trap?”

“You have changelings loyal to you here. This baffles the queen,” Zeala said for the Warling. As he spoke, she went on. “She cannot understand why a superior species would allow themselves to be ruled by prey. You do not hunt. You do not stalk. You are all but useless without magic. A changeling can do without magic.”

“What a lovely way to start peace talks,” mused Seeadler. “She is testing you, Prince Armor.” He grinned through his beak. Shining scowled at the old bird. “Changeling politics are never dull, my young friend.”

The stallion grunted and heaved a sigh. “It’s more militaristic.”

The priestess shook her head. “As I said, she is cunning. My advice to you is to not trust her, but hear what she has to offer. War or peace, I should imagine. She is blunt, I think. Her wars have made her weary and she will not suffer fools.”

“Six billion bits,” Shining blurted, suddenly remembering. “She is offering six billion bits as compensation, for starters. Strings attached, I would imagine.”

General...or was it Ambassador? Yes, it had to be Ambassador for this role, Shining decided as the changeling began speaking again. As he did so, he reached within his carapace, his multifaceted eyes boring into the unicorn’s own. The odd, mesmerizing tone of his voice was soft, almost reverent now as he produced a small box.

Zeala translated. “On behalf of my Queen and Her Subjects, I would like to present to you a gift from a mother to her son to be given to the Crown Prince as a belated birthday present.” With a very gentle grasp with his magic, Silent Wing floated a flat rectangular box of lacquered wood of impeccable quality reverently. If it was even possible, his harsh armored features managed to soften.

“What is it?” Shining asked suspiciously. “Why should I accept anything from her?”

“It is not for you,” the changeling replied, hissing irritably. Zeala flinched as she shared his words. Ambassador Seeadler’s crest rose, appearing ready to defend himself. “The Heir to Her Majesty’s Legacy and future king,” the priestess managed, clearly rattled by the sudden change in the giant’s demeanor. The relief was evident in her voice as Silent Wing calmed as if his flaring temper had never existed.

“I would highly recommend not questioning a Warling’s words,” suggested the griffon. He clicked his talons reflexively. “The general here is as honorable an individual as you would expect to meet. I can vouch for his honor and his intentions.”

“Death before disssshonor,” rasped the monster. His crest rose and fell as though he was calming himself. “Apologiessss.”

“I meant no disrespect.” Shining Armor inclined his head deeply towards Silent Wing. His guest accepted the apology with a nod. “I will speak with my wife and give her the terms your queen has offered. You will have an answer in twenty four hours.”

The Warling nodded and rose from his seat. The wood creaked and the sound of more tearing fabric reached the unicorn’s ears. With a grace belying his size, the giant changeling removed himself from the room with motions that wasted nothing. He paused long enough to lean over towards Zeala, his voice rumbling a question. She nodded and he bent his head towards her. She leaned forward and kissed him between the eyes, her tongue following through with a sensual roll around the base of his horn.

Shining Armor shuddered and found himself wondering what exactly was going on in that changeling temple...

Author's Note

Unedited, but with a hint of lime!

Happy New Year!

19. Awkward Moments and a Decision

Reign Cloud studied the strange pony/zebra hybrid, thinking there was something off about the colt. Oh, he was nice and very polite, but something was niggling him. Maybe Enigma was too polite and too nice. Maggie seemed to like him, though. Reign could not exactly explain it, but he did know he did not like that. Not one bit. His mother even liked Enigma, but then again, she liked everypony.

The play had ended and Wilda had called her family towards the picnic area for lunch. A throng of hatchlings and nymphs chirped and laughed. The chatting was generally happy, with a lot of questions thrown at Enigma. His own mother had joined him: a very mysterious looking zebra mare who introduced herself in a lilting, heavily accented voice. Enya had mysterious blue eyes. Reign had read somewhere blue was exclusive to zebra shamans as they were typically dark. Colt and mother both carried themselves easily, seemingly comfortable being surrounded by predators.

Reign Cloud narrowed his eyes at the pair. Too comfortable.

Every now and then, the prince would cast his eyes towards the edge of the park, seeking out the inconspicuous guards. He knew they were there. Cadence always had her guards nearby. She might have not been a fan of having them around, but she understood the necessity of having them and clearly was not stupid. Alicorns were inviting targets, even if they were rumored to be nigh invulnerable and oozing with power.

Cadence was neither and her magic was love. Reign knew she could take care of herself, having dedicated her daily exercise routine to include honest to goodness military training. That being said, the Halfling had a hard time picturing his mother wielding a massive sword and taking all comers. Reign had seen her practice with his father, as well as some of the weapons masters, and thought she was good, but still nowhere near good enough. It was one of the few times she ever had a serious expression on her face and the only time she would break out into a sweat.

Well, there was that one time, in the middle of the night years ago when some noise woke Reign up. He had slipped out of his bed and followed his ears. His journey had taken him to the door leading into his parent’s bedroom and there were some very strange noises coming from inside. Back then, a certain six-year-old colt had a limited grasp of certain things and various noises had different meanings to him.

“Mommy?” he had asked, pushing open the door with his snout. “Mommy?” he repeated, seeking her out as the light of the hall streamed in, lighting up a bed with Cadence facing him, a look of shock and embarrassment worn like a clown mask. What was that smell? His mother was drenched in sweat and Daddy was behind her, peeking over his shoulder, his eyes closed and wearing the most comical expression.

Well, Reign’s reflection of the memory at the time was something sinister. Daddy was doing something to Mommy that just didn’t look right. “You’re hurting Mommy!” the little colt cried, tears suddenly welling up as he sprang to Cadence’s defense.

Shining had finally noticed his son. “Crud!” Recoiling away, he was madly gathering the bedsheets in front of him and pressing them to his lower belly.

Right about that time the guards, having heard the commotion, burst into the room. They saw a bawling colt being consoled by his sweaty mother while a very sheepish and embarrassed Shining Armor told them quite bluntly there was nothing wrong and there was a complete misunderstanding.

And that’s how Reign Cloud learned about the birds and the bees.

The young prince shuddered at the memory. How it had popped up unwanted in his head baffled him. Why now, of all times? It was a horrible memory that brought strange tingling sensations up within him any time he looked at Maggie. Or any other mares that struck his interest, for that matter.

“Oooh, you’re thinking of things!” Maggie whispered in his ear with a giggle. “I can feel it! We can all feel it!”

Her words broke him from his mulling. Reign looked up and around, finding a dozen eyes or more boring into him intently. A few blinked in confusion, a recognizable confusion.

Cadence sighed. “Center yourself, Reign. Remember? Just as I taught you.” She was fighting very hard to hide her giggles.

Wilda arched a brow and without pause from setting out lunch said, “I suppose he is getting of that age. A bit early, but it had to start sometime. Children! Stop staring at him! One day you will all have your brains turn to mush from such thoughts. It’s only natural.”

Enya wore a knowing smile and Enigma was confused. “Why are the ponies and changelings of this place so strange, Mother?” he asked her.

She looked at him pointedly. “Remember that little filly back home before we left?” Enya asked with a twinkle in her eye.

“Oh,” he replied with a shrug. “That.” Enigma could not hide his flush.

“My little colt is growing up,” cooed Cadence with a happy sigh. “Pretty soon he’ll have all the fillies throwing themselves at him and I’ll have to make wedding plans.”

“Momma!” protested Reign with a squeak.

“I like weddings,” commented Maggie breathlessly into his ear.

“Weddings are wondrous occasions,” added Enya with a sage nod. The shaman was already becoming a part of the never ending herd of matronly mothers lording their hopes and dreams of grandchildren, so they might spoil them and take universal revenge upon their own offspring. The fact she was like minded with Cadence and Wilda when it came to colts, fillies, nymphs, and the future following them spoke volumes.

Reign was not a stupid colt. Reign was suddenly terrified.

Maggie was snuggling against his side, her larger frame eventually glomping him. The colt cried out as laughter exploded from the mares.

“So,” Cadence said as she gently parted the two before Reign had an aneurysm, “Blueblood. Will he be joining us? I’m surprised he is not here yet.” She regarded Enya with the smile of a mare who had hopes of reformation for her twit of a cousin.

“He had to pen a few letters for business purposes as he has not been up to date of his holdings while abroad. Communications were muddled when the griffons went silent for a decade.” The zebra offered to help Wilda set out the plates. The broodmother smiled and let her help. “He’ll be by shortly. I think you will like the changes he has done to himself. I’m well aware of how he once was. An insufferable buffoon when I first met him.”

Reign was suddenly aware of Enigma helping him to his hooves. The colt was larger than him. Then again, almost all colts and fillies were larger than him. Even the smaller changelings his age usually had a size advantage. “I do not envy you,” he muttered with a grin.

The colt decided Enigma was all right as he could faintly feel the sympathy coming from him. He was a kind sort. Zebras were renowned for their kindness as well as their savagery. It was an odd combination.

A pegasus guard landed some distance from the picnic, but did not approach. “Message from the Consort for Her Highness!” she announced.

Cadence smiled and beckoned to the mare. “I eagerly await what my husband has to say!” she said with mock authority. She was truly loved by her guards, as indicated by the unprofessional smile the pegasus wore.

“The meeting with the queen’s emissary has concluded. The consort advised me to present to you the terms offered at the meeting and requests your presence at your convenience.” A scroll appeared from a deep pocket on her barding and was hoofed over.

Enya rose to her hooves and beckoned her son over. "I have kept you from your afternoon long enough. It was a pleasure meeting you, Your Highness. I do hope to meet you again and soon. For now, I and my son must find my husband."

Cadence nodded, rising to her own hooves. Stepping towards the zebra mare, she hugged her. "Welcome to the family," she said. "Belatedly, but there you have it!" Both mares laughed. "I would love nothing more than to sit down with you and Bluey and catch up on the years. Tomorrow? Would that be fine? Lunch?"

"I accept your invitation!" replied the shaman with a chuckle. To the changeling family, she cast a happy smile, "It was truly a pleasure to meet a family of changelings as wonderful as all of you! I wish you all a blessed day and a bright future! Come, Enigma. Let us not keep your father waiting!"

"Yes, Mother," he said. "Goodbye, Reign. It was nice to meet you. I hope we are friends."

Reign nodded and grinned back. "Yeah. I'd like to be your friend!"

A final round of farewells saw the zebra and her colt trotting off with smiles on their faces.

“Oh!” Cadence looked at the scroll. She had nearly forgotten. Wonderful distractions often did give way to business. It was a pity. “My apologies. I must read this,” she said to those assembled for the outing. Wilda waved her off with an understanding smile.

She did just that, her face becoming an unreadable mask as her eyes drank up the words quickly. There was a pause, a squint or two at the letter. A derisive snort followed as the mask fell away to incredulity. “That much?” she muttered. “And she thinks she can just waltz into my city under the assumption I will allow it?”

Cadence was angry....and afraid. Reign found himself bumping his shoulder into her leg. He was a momma’s colt when Shining wasn’t around. “Momma?” He prodded her with a hoof.

“It’s nothing for you to worry about,” she said all too quickly, flashing him a warm smile.

“Momma?” he blinked at her, clearly not believing the tone in her voice.

She sighed. “Your birth mother is coming for a visit.”

It took a moment for the words to register. “What?” he demanded. His temper was flaring. “Why?” Reign’s voice was flat and unfriendly. “She didn’t want me. Why would she come now?”

“Reign,” she admonished him gently.

“She didn’t want me. Why didn’t she want me?” he went on. Tears were forming.

“Honey, we discussed this,” she said gently. A wing draped down and over him while she gave a reassuring nuzzle. “No tears. You are my son. You are my joy.”

“She’ll want to take me away from you!” he cried. “I don’t want to go!”

“You are not going anywhere,” Cadence assured him. “Your home is here. Your friends are here. Your father is here.”

“I don’t want to see her!”

I thought you did. Cadence thought patiently. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. Now, don’t spoil the picnic. Everything smells so wonderful! Guard?” The princess looked up. “Will you please send a message to my husband. Tell him I have received his message and will discuss it with him soon.”

“Yes, ma’am!” The pegasus saluted, cast a quick sympathetic smile at Reign, and took off with smooth, powerful strokes of her wings.

Wilda pursed her lips, licking a fang once before saying, “The bond between you two is remarkably changeling in nature,” she said with a warm smile. A glance at the departing pegasus was fleeting before settling down to exchanging between mother and son. “I find it wonderful. However,” she noted, frowning slightly, “there could be a problem if my former queen decides she wants to take issue with the relationship.”

“You don’t say?” queried Cadence as she flicked an ear. “I’d like to see her try and take Reign from me!” The steel in her voice made Wilda smile. “Reign is my son. She gave him over to me. She could have gone elsewhere, but she chose me and I am not and have never been sorry for it. Reign Cloud is my son.! I won’t let anything take him from me.”

Wilda sighed. “I see there was something about changeling culture I neglected to tell you.” She set down a covered plastic tray of deviled eggs she had fished from the picnic basket. “A changeling queen’s heir is the center of that queen’s universe. Their connection to their children is unbreakable. More so than any bond I might have with my children, even as I love them all with everything I have. Reign might not be able to sense her, but only because he has never had a chance to develope his bond with her. She, on the other hand, would know exactly where he is from half a world a way. A queen must know where her child is. She gave up a kingdom for him. She gave up her crown for him. She became outcast in the eyes of two castes because of him. Oh, I assure you, Princess Cadence. The one you know as Chrysalis will come for Reign and is coming for Reign. I should imagine she has already delivered terms. Remarkable she would resort to peaceful means, given her nature.” She finished mostly to herself, as if musing aloud and her audience just happened to be hearing her words.

“I don’t wanna go,” sniffled Reign miserably.

“You’re not going anywhere, sweetie,” Cadence assured him with a nuzzle. She gave a perplexed and miffed glare at Wilda. “You shouldn’t be scaring him like that, Wilda.”

The big broodmare sighed. “I’m sorry, Cadence. But everything seems to be coming to a head. You must know this about the mind of Chrysalis by now.” She spat the name forcibly, as if it left a bad taste in her mouth. “I still think the name you ponies gave her is a bit insulting. Speciest, really.”

“Well, considering you haven’t given us the name of your former queen, can you blame us?”

Little Zinnia, during this time, had emerged from her mother’s pouch largely unnoticed. Her siblings Veronica, Shasta, and Pansy stared from the pouch, their heads all poking out from the bulge of the broodmother’s pouch. Wilda did take note, being her mother and all, but did nothing. The little hatchling crawled about on unsteady legs, her eyes round and filled with wonder as she explored her world. Her ears flopped this way and that and she sniffed the air constantly. A chirp came from her. It was a tiny sound, really, and an adorable one. Slowly she made her way through the food set on the blanket, sniffing this and that, not sure what to make of the smells. Watchful eyes ensured she did not help herself to the food, as she was a noted messy eater. Her journey ended at the hooves of Cadence and Reign, where she sat on her haunches and looked up at the pink pony who smiled warmly down at her.

“Well hello there!” Cadence bent down and let the little one sniff at her. She enjoyed holding little adorable things. Zinnia was one of those little adorable things. ‘And so the picnic was saved by a hatchling!’ she thought with a chuckle.

“I should like to continue that discussion later,” she offered to her big friend. Certainly, there were some subjects both mares were uncomfortable talking about, but Cadence believed their friendship was strong enough to muddle through the inevitable and still be close.

Yamir, who had been silent as the two ladies spoke, was uneasy. He had never heard his wife speak of her former life all that often. What she had spoke of just now was quite obvious: her former queen was not one to be trifled with. She was dangerous. Apparently she had just recently defeated a gaggle of changeling queens. Though he personally doubted any queen had that much skill and acumen, there had to have been trickery and deception in that final battle. Very few details were available, but more would surely come. The truth would be known. No matter how he tried to examine it, this queen...this mother of Her Majesty’s adopted son and heir to the Crystal Empire would no doubt come to claim her son.

“Is she like Sombra?” he asked his wife. “Your queen. Is she like...him? The way he was with us, his ponies, this kingdom?”

Wilda gave her husband a speculative look as she adjusted herself where she lay. “In some ways, yes. She is ruthless. She grinds her enemies to dust. She does not forget. She does not forgive. However,” she noted, seeing the distress growing on her husband, “she has always believed family is important. The young must be protected at all costs. She is cruel, but she is also honorable, in her own way. She does not seek friends, but she will seek out compromise if she can get an advantage for herself. Collateral damage is unacceptable in her eyes. Cadence, how many civilians were harmed in her attack those years ago?”

“None died, if that’s what you’re asking,” supplied the princess uneasily.

“Sombra did not care for the well being of his slaves. If you were weak, you were dead. With my former queen, the weak were placed in the center, with the strong facing the danger. Yes, she is cruel. She is ruthless. But she loves her people. It is because of that love she has for her people she is ruthless and cruel, but only to those she considers her enemies. She is also selfish. That selfishness is what ultimately cost her her kingdom. That selfishness gave way to an act of mercy even I thought was beyond her; she saved her son by giving him up.” Wilda had slowly turned her attention to Reign as she spoke, her eyes falling over her children who listened intently. Beyond the song of a bird in the tree above, only her voice could be heard.

“She gave up everything for you, my prince. Never forget that.” To Cadence she said, “If you want my advice, and I give it openly and with no reservations, do not hide him from her. Let them meet. Let them get to know each other, if just a little. I can assure you, her heart aches at not having her son at her side. It is torture for her to be away from her little one. A mare’s first born is the one she forms the strongest bond with, as it is natural.”

Cadence hummed thoughtfully. “A chance at peace.”

Reign suddenly felt bad. “It’s one of those political things, isn’t it?” he observed with a sigh.

“Politics are stupid,” Maggie groused. She again snatched Reign into a possessive hug, getting a smattering of giggles from her sisters. Rose gave her a jealous glare. “That meanie queenie is gonna hafta get past me to get to my Reigny! He’s mine! Mine!”

Reign found her antics ridiculous and about on par. Maggie had always been like this. He found he minded it less and less. How odd!

“Yes. Unfortunately, this will become a political issue.” Cadence sighed and rubbed her temple with a hoof. “It’s going to be a headache. We can discuss it with your father this evening at dinner. Wilda, I’m afraid I’m going to have to accost my son this evening. I’ll have him brought back to you in the morning, if that’s all right.”

“Oh, I don’t mind. The store windows will still be there in need of a colt to wash them.” Wilda was smiling. “Well, then. I’d say everything is set. Children! Lunch is served!”

The eldest nymphs immediately set about making plates for their younger brothers and sisters. Rose took charge like a little queen and Maggie broke her hug with Reign (who rediscovered the wonderful world of breathing again) to help. Petunia shouldered Rose, not wanting to be considered beneath her sister. Both jostled each other with their bodies until the larger changeling won out. The little display of dominance ended as quickly as it had started and normalcy reigned. The changeling family had already been lined up around the edges of the blanket, patiently waiting and listening to Cadence and Wilda. Politics were boring, of course, but the talk of this mysterious queen Mother never spoke of was interesting. A few questions were lobbed at Wilda as she watched over her nymphs, all of them about Queen Chrysalis.

“Is she pretty?” asked Iris. She had only recently started forming coherent sentences.

“She is very pretty,” conceded Wilda. She had never met her former queen personally, but the Black Queen had always been considered to be devastatingly gorgeous, as a magazine had once proclaimed. Unfortunately, there were no photographs Wilda knew of. She was aware there was a history of truly ugly queens, but this one was by far the most beautiful in recent memory. Even her enemies admitted she was a knockout.

Iris seemed happy with the answer and settled down to eat.

Moonbloom, one of the middle children of Wilda’s brood then asked, “Why would she take Reign from Princess Cadence? That’s not nice. Not nice at all!” Bits of food sprayed from her mouth.

“Don’t speak with your mouth full, dear,” Wilda chided her sternly. “You were raised to be civilized, not some mindless animal.”

The little changeling filly looked abashed. She finished chewing, swallowed, then repeated her question.

“No, it’s not a nice thing to do. It’s hopefully not going to happen.”

“Promise?”

“I can’t promise that, no.” Wilda had always tried to be honest with her brood. It sometimes made her feel bad about the looks she received in return for some of her answers, but she tried very hard to not be too blunt about it.

“Oh.”

“Momma?” asked Sunflower. She had a touch of gold in her dark mane. She was long-legged and willowy and would most likely be a very skinny adult changeling when she matured.

“Yes dear?”

“Would you fight for Cadence or would you fight for that queen?”

“Why would I fight?” she asked, taken aback by the question. “Do respect any changeling queens. I don’t think I like that tone.”

“Sorry Momma. But which one would you fight for?”

“Princess Cadence, of course. And mind your manners when speaking her name in front of her!” Wilda smirked as a glance at the pink princess revealed a familiar roll of the eyes. Cadence preferred being informal around foals and nymphs. She was a very down to earth lady, something Wilda appreciated greatly.

There were other questions as lunch progressed, but everything had settled down once the eating began in earnest. Yamir slid next to his wife and leaned against her. She in turn leaned into him and the pair simply enjoyed being together while they watched their family devour their plates like a pack of starved wolves. If not for the presence of royalty, they might have started giving each other little affectionate kisses.

Reign Cloud had manage to eat a little bit, though his heart wasn’t into his meal. The more he thought about what had been exchanged between his mother and Wilda, the more he felt as though the decision would ultimately be his. The fate of the Crystal Empire, it seemed, rested on his frail shoulders.

What would Aunt Celestia do? What would Aunt Luna think? How would Aunt Twilight approach this? He wondered as he picked at his plate. Cadence was having an animated conversation with Cherry Blossom, telling one of her stories. It was loud enough for all to hear and made for good conversation over food. What would she do?

As a prince, Reign felt he had a duty to uphold. For the sake of peace. For the sake of the ponies his mother had always told him were his responsibility. For the changelings who had come to live under the rule of the most loving of all the Equestrian princesses, Reign also felt a strong responsibility for. They loved him. Reign had to admit he loved them back. As a community, they kept out those who would do him harm. He knew beyond the borders of his home, changelings would regard him as a freak. He knew this, but had never experienced such a thing upon himself.

Here, he was loved.

His birth mother had known exactly where to put him.

He understood this.

And he thought deeply about it.

Ultimately, he came to a decision as to how he should approach this.

Author's Note

Yes! It's alive!

...someone get me a really big shovel!

Unedited for your snorting pleasure.

Next chapter: Queen Chrysalis.

20. The Black Queen

She had wanted to rush out to the colt and snatch him up. The years of not having him at her side had eaten at her heart constantly. Every time she reassured herself the decision had been the correct one, self loathing would spark. Abandoning her only son to the likes of the very alicorn whom she had impersonated and the unwitting sire had felt so very wrong.

Still, she observed the group, hidden in the crowd of other changelings. He was so close! Her eye welled up and a hitch caught in her voice, should she dare speak. Around her were her guards. They were scattered every bit as much as Cadence’s own guards. Neither were aware of each other’s physical location, yet there was a sense of unease experienced soldiers got from the sensation of being watched.

The Black Queen, she was called. Her true name was spoken mostly with the undertones of fear and respect. The ponies called her Chrysalis. Among them, she would allow this, even if the name did not fit. Her generals were mopping up operations following the last and desperate battle initiated by her enemies. Those queens were either dead or had surrendered their crowns to her. Very few remained to challenge her directly. Some would no doubt follow her in an attempt to catch her unawares.

Possible. It was very possible. The changeling queen known as Chrysalis by the Equestrians was well aware of the possibilities. She had learned to not assume and had grown into her role as queen. She had eyes and ears set for any pulse of the remnants of her enemies making any sort of move. There was a vengeful daughter who no doubt throw caution to the wind and do something stupid. Somehow, she had discovered the existence of Reign Cloud and would no doubt make an attempt on him for leverage and/or revenge.

She watched as the colt snuggled under his adoptive mother’s wing, a bit overwhelmed with the antics of the nymphs. Chrysalis noted their mother was an impressive specimen of a broodmother, one that bore the colors of her kingdom. A refugee? A victim of the civil war that erupted shortly after her son’s birth? She did not know.

Her disguise was that of the common every day changeling. It made sense, considering the park was crawling with changelings and their families. Such a social event was heartening to the queen and she smiled at the droves of nymphs at play under the watchful eyes of parents. There was a healthy community of broodmares, much like the one who was clearly friends with Mi Amore Cadenza, but nowhere near as imposing.

“I want my Pale Shadow,” she whispered.

“My queen?” Asked one of her disguised guards. He was Fury, the only other survivor from that desperate night ten years ago.

“Shatterback would have been his father,” she went on, ignoring the question. “He loved my little one as though he was his own. He did not hesitate when I commanded him to stay. A good mate.” Her voice was monotone and low.

Fury knew better. “He was my brother.”

“I miss him.”

“Yet you still hold a candle for another.”

“I do, my faithful warrior.” She smirked wryly, giving him a sidelong glance before shifting back to her son. So close, yet so very far! “He would have made a fine changeling, had he been born one. I will admit I lied when I said there was no room.”

“Your plan in approaching this issue is confusing, my queen.” Fury sat up and looked down at the picnic basket he had brought with him. They had to play the part. The sun felt nice on his back and he buzzed his wings.

“I am dividing my resources for this. I move to entice while at the same time give myself superior positioning for negotiations. Shining Armor and Cadenza are not greedy ponies. They are dutiful. I must also prepare to take what is mine if my initial plan bears no fruit. I am tired of the fighting, Fury. I have a shattered kingdom to rebuild. We have been away from home for too long. Thousands suffer because of this war and I am weary of it. Equestria is not a threat to us. I have the griffons to act as buffers.” She accepted a cucumber sandwich offered to her from the basket. The disguised queen took a bite and munched thoughtfully.

“How will you reconnect with your son?” asked Fury with curiosity.

“Very carefully,” she replied with a hint of resolve in her voice. “If he is like me, he will have a temper. A very vocal one.” The queen smirked, taking note of the changeling nymph with the large and poofy mane. “What do you make of that one?”

“Zeala’s spawn? Not like her mother. I doubt she is even aware.”

“But Zeala is all too aware. I was a fool to trust her, but I cannot yet move on the priestess. She has a plan and I want to know what it is. It involves my only son, my only child, and the heir to our kingdom’s future.” The Black Queen narrowed her gaze balefully as she thought of the thin, beautiful and very vain changeling priestess. “She seeks power. She has reached out to my enemies, but she has not told them of my son.”

“What purpose could Zeala have for the prince?” Fury asked. His anger was concealed well, but his queen knew of it. Fury was completely devoted to her and her family line. Absolute and unwavering.

“We must ascertain what it is, at all cost. He is our future. He is his kingdom’s future. I will not live forever.”

“You will have decades yet, my queen.” The changeling glared at his lady. “If you were to pass too soon, then your rule would have been wasted on war instead of prosperity, as you should have had from the day you were crowned.”

She laughed, her eyes roaming over the common changelings enjoying the day. “Ah, my loyal minion, how you lap at my hooves like the loyal dog you are.”

Fury was unruffled by her comment. Their bantering was years in refining. “I am the wolf that keeps the other wolves at bay.”

“Indeed you are.” She sighed, settling down on her stomach and shifting her legs more comfortably beneath her. “Are the stones placed in their proper locations?”

“We observe the pebble,” replied her companion with a nod. He fished a second sandwich from the basket and took a bite. He paused in his chewing to add, “It is always the most boring part of the job that yields the most promising rewards. I fear we may need to move faster than the client wishes.”

“The client,” she snorted derisively. “We must play the waiting game to find out what her game is. Zeala is dangerous. Perhaps more dangerous than Cadence suspects. She should be warned. I imagine she has been warned. That priestess has a hold over her and her husband. It is not changeling magic or they would have detected it by now.”

“Do you suspect dark arts?”

She nodded silently. Her eye had once again fallen upon the pale Halfling not fifty yards from where she picnicked. He had risen from beneath the alicorn’s wings and slowly walked towards the massive broodmother. They were conversing. There was simply too many changelings making too much of a din for the observing queen to make out what the conversation was about. A tiny nymph crawled out from beneath the mare and crawled up to Reign Cloud. He nosed her once, sniffing before she clamped herself to his muzzle with her hooves and her mouth. With a yelp, he fell backwards, the laughter of the group erupting around him.

“Not funny!” he yelled, careful to extract the nymph from his nose before retreating from the group in a sulk. Cadence frowned and reprimanded him.

“Ah, to be young again,” swooned the queen to her companion. Her complexion became sad. “I missed so much of it. I want to hold him again. I want him to call me Mother.” The mask forged from years of war cracked and a moment of matronly weakness overcame her. She recovered and noted a glass of wine being offered to her.

Appearances were one thing, showing genuine concern and affection for his lady was another. Such devotion was coveted by all queens in their royal guards. It also served as a convenient show of affection between courting changelings. “All in good time, my queen,” he assured her as she quaffed the glass in one gulp.

“We have twelve days to make a decision. We must keep an eye out for threats from beyond. Our primary concern is Zeala.” She sniffled, quickly regaining her composure. A napkin was hoofed over and she used it to dab her eyes. “No doubt General Silent has given over my proposal for consideration. I wonder how long before I receive an answer.”

“Princess Cadence has proven herself to be a capable ruler. She is still growing into her role, but she is competent. If it were not for that priestess, I should think her development will usher an era of growth and prosperity for the Crystal Empire. Her subjects adore her and are very protective of her and her family.” Fury refilled her glass without pause. “Believe it or not, they absolutely love their grumpy young prince.”

“I know. I am glad for that.” The glass was gone as quickly as it had been filled. Fury knew his queen well. The glass was again brimming the moment she set it down. “It will make things all the more difficult later on.”

“There will be a difficult choice you will have to make.”

“I pray it is not made for me. I desire peace, Fury. I am weary of war. I want little ones at my hooves. I want a stable kingdom. I want content subjects. I want a bright future.” She sighed heavily and sipped her third glass. Of those things she truly desired, one would never come to pass and that was perhaps the most regrettable of them all.

‘My queen, I bring news,’ came a voice in her mind respectfully.

‘Silent Wing? What news do you bring?’ Using the warling had been a gamble. He might have not been the best choice as an ambassador, but the queen wanted to present a figure Shining Armor could relate to and even feel at ease with.

‘The Prince Consort has met with me. Seeadler was with him and the priestess joined us.’ The giant changeling’s thoughts reflected his ire. ‘Her word carries weight with the Royals of this nation. It is as you suspected. I know not how deeply she has sunk her hooks into them.’

The queen grimaced, noting mildly the wine was slowly beginning to affect her. It was not an unpleasant feeling. ‘Anything else? How did Shining respond to my personal letter?’

‘Unnerved, if I were to put one word to it,’ he rumbled hesitantly. ‘I don’t know what I was to expect, my queen. You were not explicit and simply asked me to observe and keep my thoughts to myself.’

‘Did he suspect anything amiss from you?’

‘Only that I was lactose intolerant,’ came the amused reply.

The queen known as Chrysalis chuckled. ‘Having a bit of fun, were you?’

‘Equestrians are amusing when they try to remain polite in the face of unexpected revelations. Shining Armor was quite understanding. He may have broken a blood vessel when I ate the tea cup he gave me. It was quite tasty.’

Rolling her eyes, she sipped more wine and had another bite of her sandwich. ‘So long as you did not go to great lengths to antagonize him. So the message was delivered? Was there any interference from Zeala?’

‘None, my queen. She wears her mask well if she found the news of your coming to be unexpected. I might have been mistaken, but I think she is frightened at the prospect of meeting you. She may have had an inkling, which would explain why she felt the need to call in the assassin.’

‘Indeed. Too bad she did not pay much attention to what was happening to the assassin guilds within her reach.’ They were, for all intents and purposes, rendered useless. She had seen to it after the death of Shatterback. Some deaths were taken personally. The loss had affected the queen greatly. The infiltrator had been one of the best, yet he had been betrayed. The queen had been betrayed.

Zeala had betrayed. But was she working for someling else? A member of the Religious caste? Or was she scheming on her own? The evidence suggested she was using outside resources through empty promises while she consolidated her power base, but to what end? What was her game?

“What information do we have on my son’s Intended?” she asked Fury quietly. As her question found its voice, she mentally dismissed Silent Wing, quite pleased with his work. “What is the girl’s name?”

A file appeared in the changeling’s hooves from a saddlebag leaning against the picnic basket. He skimmed through it openly, as it was an unmarked and unremarkable folder. “Her name is Maggie. Odd name. She will be a broodmother when she matures,” he began as he sifted through the papers. “Her mother is unknown, but we suspect she is one of the acolytes at the Temple of Love. Perhaps even a neophyte. Potential converts to the Order of Love cannot have nymphs. Shortly after hatching, she was given over to Wilda, but only after being blessed with the mark of Servus Defensor, the Intended for Reign Cloud. She is intelligent, has a positive outlook, and always seems to want those around her to be happy.”

“The Order of Life might be interested in her,” mused the queen as her attention fixated on the bubbly nymph. “Her build is good. Her genes are older, of course. Clearly her blood is of the changelings who were trapped in this place for a thousand years.” Her gaze narrowed for a moment before relaxing. “They seem inseparable. Were they bonded?”

“The ceremony was done on Reign Cloud’s third birthday, my lady,” responded Fury.

The queen sighed as she nursed her wine. “Yet another milestone I missed. War is a terrible thing.” Bitterness gnawed at her heart. “I missed his first flight, his first words, his first tooth...oh, my Pale Shadow.”

“My Queen, do not cry. You did what you thought was the best course of action those years ago. Your heir lives because of your actions.” Fury blinked and was uncomfortable with his ruler showing her inner turmoil. “You are here now. That is what matters. Reunion is possible because of a decision you made.”

The Black Queen huffed, unable to contain the small smile that squeaked through her sorrow. She banished that sorrow, regarding Fury through a watery haze. “I have regrets. I cannot help it. I am his mother. I have missed him, Fury. And now I find there are more dangers around him than I could have imagined. I feel as though I still managed to fail him, even as his protector if not his mother.”

Fury nodded, not sure what to tell his queen. He knew her, yet he also did not know her. The queen who had nearly toppled Equestria still kept much to herself. Any subject regarding her son was a touchy one. Quite a few of her officers had met untimely ends upon any unkind utterances in the direction of the Halfling. It was easy to forget at times through her savagery and unforgiving relentlessness as a warring queen, his queen always kept her only child close to her heart. Yet, she knew nothing of nymphs, save for the passing moments she had when meeting refugees fleeing war. If she could, an awkward moment of holding a hatchling took her back to the days before the castes had stripped her of her crown as she refused to give up her Pale Shadow. How proud a mother she had been in the days following his birth! Shamelessly she showed off the foal—a foal!—cooing and fussing over him in a manner that would do an experienced broodmother proud!

Fury remembered how much she had radiated. The public announcement and recognition of the half breed as her heir had been the proudest moment since ascending to the throne. The kingdom embraced the birth and many had thought the queen would embrace openness to the outside world.

But...the Religious Caste and the Royal Caste saw the Halfling as an abomination and gave the ultimatum: either give over her newborn or have her crown stripped from her.

Ten years later, the echos of the queen’s decision had changed the landscape of changeling society, shaking it to its very foundations. Those who had sought to revoke her were either dead or had fled before her wrath. The war had changed her, scarred her. The Black Queen became spiteful towards the castes which had tried to destroy her and her son. Whispers of what she did to some of her influential prisoners had resonated deeply. She was feared by her peers. Those who were once queens and had survived were now her slaves. There were many now who wore iron collars, their horns broken off at their base. No queen, no infiltrator, no warling could match her prowess in battle, forged from her unbridled rage.

The changeling the ponies called Chrysalis clawed her way back to the top. Many crowns were now her trophies. Her vengeance was nearly complete. Her kingdom had grown into an empire, but one still teetering on the brink. The war had sapped much from the changeling race. It would take decades to rebuild. Whole communities had been wiped out. Those who were able had fled, hiding in other nations in small hives. Others, the few and perhaps the most fortunate found havens like the Crystal Empire where they could live openly and freely.

There was still much to do. It was perhaps the most difficult trial for the queen. She was still considered young and the burden of war would soon shift to the burden of reconstruction. Those bits she had promised to the Crystal Empire could have been used to help rebuild her own shattered nation. Still, the queen knew she would need to establish diplomatic relations with other nations and negotiate several treaties. Everything and anything was in a shambles.

War tended to make a mess of things.

“Keep an eye on her,” she said quietly. Mentally, she informed her guards to treat the nymph known as Maggie as though she were a member of the family. All acknowledged her command. “Also..,” she hummed through another frown, “follow that crippled lapdog of Zeala’s. Minions like him can lead to secrets. He is a key to those secrets about her. I want to know where he goes, what he does, and what information that mare entrusts him with.” Her thoughts echoed her words and again. She was obeyed without question.

For a long while, she sat in silence, feeling the wine go to her head and in a good way. She found herself humming as she watched her son interact with other changelings. Not surprisingly, Cadence rose to her hooves and joined the little ones in play, joy in every step she took and laughter chasing the tails of the nymphs. Reign seemed reluctant to play, but a ghost of a smile could be seen even as he hung back, physically unable to keep up with those far more vigorous than he. The want and need was there plainly. Luckily for him, Maggie made sure to hang back with the sickly prince to keep him involved in the games. From the queen’s perspective, the other youngsters took note of this and were surprisingly patient with him despite his frustrations. Cadence was constantly returning to check in on her adopted son, giving him an encouraging smile and the occasional (and embarrassing) nuzzle.

The more she observed Cadence, the more irrationally the queen thought of how dare the alicorn assume herself to be the mother of the queen’s heir! The Princess of Love had accepted Pale Shadow with nary a bat of the eye nor a hesitation in her heart, as intended, yet jealousy reared its ugly head. Fighting this monster was proving to be difficult.

There was a cracking of glass and a wet splash. The Black Queen looked down upon her disguise and found wine upon her forelegs and chest, staining the blanket as it mingled with shards of the now shattered wine glass. Fury tried not to stare at her, but his discomfort at her display of anger left a bitter aftertaste in the air.

“Soon, my queen,” he urged with a calm he clearly did not feel. “Soon there will an end to this charade. Please be patient for a little while longer.”

She did not answer him right away. Instead, she gathered up the shattered bits of glass and piled them neatly before setting them aside. The queen glared at the stains upon her and the blanket.

Fury was right. Patience was the key that would unlock everything.

And then she would deal with Princess Mi Amore Cadenza personally. The foalsitter would know her place. One way or another, she would have her son back.

Author's Note

The last transition chapter. We will be jumping forward.

Maybe this was a bit too heavy a reveal for Chrysalis, but I'm not really much one to beat around the bush when it comes to bringing back characters into a story.

This has been unedited to spit in the face of Grammar Nazis.

Take that!

21. Seeds of Doubt

Author's Note

Another chapter at long last!

Hell hath frozen over, non?

Enjoy!

21. Seeds of Doubt

Edited by Chapter 13 and TuxOKC.

News spread quickly of the impending arrival of the changeling known as Chrysalis. The Crystal Ponies, ever curious of changelings, were still wary. A king had once enslaved them. The scars were still fresh. Would this queen attempt to do the same? Queries were made from worried citizens to the royal court. Tensions were high. Princess Cadence did what she could to diffuse fears. This was a conquering queen making a state visit and she did what she could to assure her frightened subjects this would be the open negotiations for a peace settlement. Reparations were to be made, perhaps even a formal apology. Still, there were whispers of war. What reassurance was there this queen was not merely turning her warlike eyes upon the Crystal Empire?

Preparations for a state visit took time and money. Cadence soon made an announcement, assuring her ponies and with a cheerful voice, proclaimed the Crystal Empire must prepare as though a festival would soon be upon them. Her speech was given from the same balcony she gave all of her speeches to her subjects. The changeling queen was coming offering a laurel of peace, she said to them. War had made her weary and she wished to embark on the path of reconciliation.

“To have Harmony,” she cried during the climax of her speech, “one must first give it!” The resounding cheers made her feel better, but there was still a lot of work to be done.

Rumors of impending war had to be squashed and to the quick. A festival was announced to celebrate the impending peace. It would be a good distraction, even if it had the potential of being misleading. The upcoming event was worrisome for Cadence, but she was determined to show strength in the face of Queen Chrysalis. Her changeling subjects were grateful for this: welcoming a queen seeking peace was considered good manners. Wilda had earlier advised Cadence opening her doors to the queen was a good thing; it would be bad form indeed to turn hostile and attempt an invasion. Changelings did have some form of honor, even if some of it was strange to the pony princess. Cadence decided to be clever and began to send out invites to various nations through their respective embassies.

If Chrysalis dared to attempt anything, there would be witnesses.

The denizens of the Crystal Empire were vaguely aware of a changeling civil war. The ponies turned towards their changeling neighbors. They were inquisitive as well as wary. Was this a queen bent upon conquest? Would their princess defend them? If this was the very changeling queen who had taken Princess Cadence prisoner in the past, why was there an effort to reach out to her now? The more inquisitive of the Crystal Ponies realized this was the birth mother of their very own Prince Reign Cloud.

The city became divided. As more information on this Queen Chrysalis became common knowledge, speculation varied. A hundred different citizens had a hundred different opinions. The Crystal Ponies were not a violent lot, but they were quite animated and vocal in their discussions. The city rippled with nervous tension. The announced festival was welcomed by the changelings. It opened up a lot of discussion in regards to changeling culture. Very little had changed over a thousand years for changelings.

But Cadence, gentle Princess Cadence, used her wisdom, her voice, and her magic to reassure her subjects. She promised to receive the changeling queen with open hooves and a steeled resolve. Peace through love, she promised. Canterlot would send a legion to bolster the princess’ ranks. It would be a show of strength. As much as it gave the citizens some comfort, it also felt as though they were preparing for war.

Celestia was more than happy to assist her niece. She wrote of her concerns, asking if it would help if Canterlot sent a more official presence to show support for the Crystal Empire. Correspondence flew between the two rulers. Luna kept her distance, preferring to watch. Working best under darkness, her methods were subtle. Her agents gathered information in their own ways.

Cadence, in the meantime, kept her doors opened and held public court for three hours a day every day leading up to the night of the queen’s arrival. She was determined to reassure her subjects they were safe and no harm loomed on the horizon for them. As the days passed, the burden she placed upon her shoulders became heavier and heavier.

To her subjects, she seemed unflappable.

A son felt he was forgotten in the chaos. As the city divided, so did his heart.

Princess Cadence, his mother whom he loved dearly, was so calm and beautiful when she spoke to the ponies and changelings who lived under her rule. Behind her, stoic as granite, stood Shining Armor. His imposing form was the force behind his wife’s will. He was an okay sort of fellow, the citizens had decided years ago, if a bit common in his duties. This suited them fine as it made Shining more like them than the nobility which still lurked within the Crystal Empire.

Reign Cloud needed his mother. His own anxieties taxed his patience and understanding. Wilda did what she could, but she was not his mother. The young prince asked time and time again to come home. His requests were always met with “not yet” or “soon”. Reign did his chores and puttered around the flower shop. Beyond his duties, he became withdrawn and sullen. Maggie tried to keep him company, but what did she know? She was just a stupid filly.

Reign Cloud wanted to go home. He refused to eat with the changelings. He was homesick, confused, and felt as though he was being left in the dark. Wilda worried, telling him so in her brusque way. This meant forcibly hauling him from his room, protesting loudly as she carried him by the scruff of his neck with her teeth. After plunking him down in his seat, the broodmother placed a plate of food in front of him.

“Eat, child. You will do yourself no good by pouting like a spoiled foal!” Her tone was firm and brokered no foalishness, but her eyes were filled with worry. Reign had seen it for himself. The dinner table soon became a quiet place, quiet and dreadful.

Outside, a city wondered if a queen would claim it for her own. Inside a house, a colt wondered why his mother would not come and tell him everything was going to be all right. His dreams were filled with sinister dark figures with glowing eyes. Their laughter echoed and voices promised to take him away from everything he loved.

Aunt Luna came once, when his nightmares threatened to consume him. She tried to chase away the shadows, but the colt’s fears only brought them back. She tried to explain to him her responsibilities were not just to one foal. Luna brought him into an embrace of dreams, singing a lullaby in a language that had not been spoken in an age. “Fear not, my nephew,” she whispered in his ear, “for all shadows must pass, as none can survive the light.” Then she was gone, off to do her duties as the Princess of the Night and Watcher of Dreams.

Three days before the visit, Zeala came to visit the flower shop. She bore news of what was going on in the palace. She asked for Prince Reign Cloud, bearing news from Princess Cadence. Reign hated her. The small scar on the tip of her muzzle was the only blemish to her perfect face. He always found himself staring at it whenever he was in the same room with her. Wilda bustled him into the kitchen and reminded him to mind his manners. Her patience with him was running out. Reign promised to be good. Somewhat satisfied, the broodmother put him at the dining room table and sat him in a chair. Then she went and ushered in the priestess. Zeala sat at the opposite side of the table and regarded the colt coolly as she pushed back her hood.

“My prince,” she greeted with a sage nod.

“Lady Zeala,” he returned as best he could without hissing at her. His chair was uncomfortable and he fidgeted his wings.

“Your mother is a bundle of frayed nerves,” Zeala said. Wilda brought tea and served the priestess. The big mare was always a polite hostess. The priestess gave a porcelain smile to Wilda before refocusing on Reign, “She is worried about you. Your behavior as of late has not gone unnoticed.”

Reign bristled, then felt deeply ashamed. He stared at the edge of the table in front of him. His ears flickered towards the sounds of the eavesdroppers in the kitchen. Anger slowly began to rise from within. He hated Zeala. As his mind raced, he lifted his head to look the priestess in the eye. She was sipping her cup of tea, her horn glowing as she held her drink in her telekinetic grasp. The cup tilted and her sip was small and measured. Her throat moved and the cup was placed down. A smirk appeared on her face.

“All this trouble for a battered and scarred shell of a queen,” she noted, arching a brow just enough to be noticed if one looked close enough. “A barren princess, your mother. Both of them. One is unable to conceive and the other can never conceive again. Did you know this?”

Stunned, Reign shook his head, his eyes round. Zeala’s horn continued to glow.

“I’ll have no unwanted ears on this conversation,” the priestess declared loudly. “Control your brood, broodmother!” Her horn flared and Reign could no longer hear anything beyond the dining room. He was ready to bolt from the room. Curiosity and anger held him in place.

“Oh, you poor child,” Zeala cooed as she poured herself another cup. “Your mother is fraught with worry. I know you want to be with her. She wants to be with you. Please, don’t think for a moment she does not think of you. She won’t stop talking about you! But you must understand an empire’s needs far outweigh the needs of an ill-tempered, ill-mannered foundling such as yourself.” She took another sip and swirled her cup as if to speculate. “Indeed, if you would but for a moment put aside your selfishness and think of the subjects that look to your mother for guidance…”

Reign wanted to tell Zeala he wasn’t selfish, that he loved his mother. His anger boiled into guilt and hot tears began to cloud his vision.

“I don’t understand,” Reign said through a quivering bottom lip.

In a motion of blurred shadow, Zeala was beside him, her hoof upon his shoulder. “I suspected as much. I should think this blame should be placed upon the one who birthed you. Her line, as I understand it, has a problem with focus. As a changeling, she is quite a powerful emotivore, perhaps the most powerful one our kind have seen in an age. However, the more powerful an emotivore is, the more susceptible that changeling can be to the intoxication of emotions. This is what made you so physically weak, my prince.”

Reign flinched away from the priestess, “I am not weak!”

“Your body begs to differ,” Zeala noted in a dry tone. “You can’t catch a cold without causing a minor crisis. You can’t go outside for very long. You know this, Prince Reign Cloud. I have spent the last ten years doing my best to keep you healthy enough to give your parents hope. They have had all this time to seek out some answer to what ails you.” She made no move to go after him. Her hoof hung in the air where his shoulder had been before she slowly allowed it to drop. “Then of course, there is that temper of yours.”

The colt could not answer the accusation. It was true. Then again, why was Wilda allowing Zeala to speak to him this way? Where were the guards? “Go away,” he snapped.

She straightened herself, flicking an ear and flaring her nostrils as she inhaled deeply. “My prince, I am responsible for you being alive today. I am responsible for keeping whatever spark of happiness your parents have by keeping you alive. Without me, they would be broken. Mark my words when I say without me, you would be very dead. You owe me much, my prince. You owe me so very much.”

Zeala reached into the folds of her cloak and produced a vial familiar to Reign. She shook it with her magical grasp, showing how little of the clear liquid was left. “It is almost gone, Prince Reign Cloud. What will you do when it is gone? Why has your family not yet found the answer?”

Tense silence filled the room. “I-I don’t know,” he admitted. “They promised me. They promised me there was a cure out there. Aunt Twilight promised me! Aunt Luna and Aunt Celestia, they promised me!”

“Broken promises, my prince,” Zeala said, her words sympathetic. “Useless words because the truth is, they had more important things to worry about than some Halfling.”

She lit her horn, clamping Reign’s mouth shut when he tried to protest in anger. “But I have the cure, my prince. You see, I do care about you. This nation needs you, far more than your young mind can comprehend. I have the cure for you, Reign Cloud. I have it!” Her lips peeled back in a broad smile. Her fangs revealed their full lengths.

Confused, Reign blinked. “What? Cure? You have it?”

“Yes! No more pain. No more weakness. You’ll be able to play with the other nymphs. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? To be normal, to be like the other foals? To be able to go outside and play and enjoy the feel of the sun on your pelt? Wouldn’t you like that? I have the answer for you, my prince. I have the cure to that which ails you. However…” Her voice trailed off and she became troubled.

As much as Reign detested the priestess, she now had his full attention. Cautious and distrusting of her, his quavering voice echoed, “However?”

“The magic involved is old, almost forgotten,” Zeala lamented with a sigh. She became resigned, her shoulders rolling into a slump. “Forbidden.” A sudden, placating smile erupted. “Of course, I would never go against the will of Equestria, my prince. After all, what is the life of one mortal compared to the will of a goddess? This magic I speak of is what King Sombra used. It was a part of his legacy and it is the same ancient magic which gave him power. Princess Celestia and Princess Luna would never allow such arts to be used.”

“Why not?”

“They fear it. Why should they want others to know of this magic if they feel threatened by it? All they see is the destructive potential of this magic.” She looked away for a moment, her eyes becoming distant. “I knew him, my prince. I knew King Sombra. He was a strong king. He wanted what was best for his subjects and he wanted his kingdom to be unassailable by his enemies.” Zeala turned her head and tilted it to the side as she regarded Reign with one fixed eye.

“King Sombra was evil!” blurted the colt, flaring his wings. He folded them in, his heart pounding in his chest. A cough seized him. Covering his mouth with his hoof, the event became violent and his chest wracked with sudden pain. Flecks of blood flew from his mouth.

“Yes. He was.” Zeala again moved with blurred swiftness, her hoof at the colts back and rubbing gently. “But he was loved, despite what you have heard in your lessons. He taught me much and I became his student. He was a good teacher. He wanted his magic fostered and spread throughout the land. Those who were weak were to be purged. In their place would be those who would be strong of mind, body, and heart. He understood what he was doing was not popular. Ponies and changelings don’t want to die and that is completely understandable. King Sombra had a vision. It was a grand vision. But the goddesses would not share their power with him.”

Zeala produced another vial from her robes. It was small, the clear glass showing a red liquid inside. “Drink this,” she instructed. “It will help your lungs.”

The colt did as he was told and with the priestess’ assistance. “But my aunts are good ponies,” protested Reign in gasping breaths.

Zeala spat, “Warmongers! They invaded the Crystal Empire with their armies. Do not look at me with such doubting eyes! I was there! I saw everything! I can forgive all those who were misinformed of what happened here. I am not a changeling to cast blame upon those who are ignorant. Celestia and Luna brought war to the doorstep of my king and he responded as any good king should.”

Reign did not believe her.

“Nor should I expect you to understand, child. Your life was expanded by the efforts of King Sombra. I have been hesitant to bring about the rest of the cure.” Zeala pulled back her hoof and adjusted her robes, smoothing them out. “You are the first of your kind since anyling or anypony can remember. You are unique, Prince Reign Cloud. You can be the vessel for enlightened rule, a bridge between changelings and ponies! Do you not know what you represent? Don’t you see how special you are? You will be a unifier, my prince. This is why I offered my help to your mother and father. I can finish what I started and make this disease which has wasted away your body disappear.”

Reign blinked. “The magic you can do is illegal?”

“Yes. It is dark magic, Prince Reign Cloud. I will not lie to you about that. Your mother and father would not understand. They have been made blind to the truth by the falsehoods your aunts have taught them and ponykind. The world has been blinded by the will of immortals, especially Princess Celestia.” Zeala huffed, fixing the colt with a serious look. “You are of the age where foalish thoughts are behind you. You need to be prepared for life as an adult, and that includes hearing things unpleasant to your ears. You must be open minded to the world and all the things that exist within it. You must understand where you fit in the wheel of life.” A smile formed and was warm and welcoming. “A new age is dawning and you could be in the middle of it, a shining beacon to show the way. All you have to do is one thing: accept my help.”

Reign mulled it over. “Can I think on it?” he asked. “Can I talk to Momma and Poppa about it?”

Zeala regarded him before taking in a deep breath. “If you feel you must, then do so. I warn you, they will not understand and they will become frightened. I know you do not trust me, my prince, but I do the things that must be done which the others are too afraid to even consider. I am the High Priestess of Love. Love is my weapon, my strength, my shield. All I do, I do for Love.”

The colt blinked up at her, unsure and very confused. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t like you. I never have. I’ve never trusted you. You’ve never given me reason to trust you. The medicine you give me tastes gross. It always seems like you enjoy seeing me squirm after I take the medicine.” He narrowed his eyes and glared, “I think you hate me. I always have thought you’ve always hated me.”

Zeala jerked her head back. “Hate you? I don’t hate you, my prince. It wounds me to think you believe I take pleasure in your discomfort, your pain. You are my prince and you will be a figure of leadership when you are older. You will rule one day, your own kingdom, with your own crown upon your head. I would see to it. You must understand, my prince, I love you as my prince, just as I love your mother and your father. What will it take for you to trust me? If you wish me to depart from your life, I will do so.”

Reign didn’t know what to say.

“Think on it, my prince. There is time. Know I will be there for you, even when your family believes there is nothing more they can do. If I heal you, then I will become a fugitive. I would sacrifice my life for your health. You are my prince.” Zeala paused, then added in a wistful voice, “King Sombra never had any foals. He would have liked you. Think well on my words, Prince Reign Cloud. I will ever be your faithful servant.”

The priestess rose to her hooves and bowed in deep respect to him, her horn flaring. The room shimmered as the dampening spell was released. Composing herself, she turned towards Wilda, who was wearing a worried frown. “Thank you for the tea, broodmother. It was very excellent. My business here is done. Will you be at the arrival three days from now?”

With a slow nod Wilda replied, “I will. We have invitations from the Royal Family to attend. The princess wants a festive atmosphere.”

“A wise decision. One must not show weakness in the face of a potential enemy,” she replied, casting a sidelong glance at Reign.

“What did you say to Reign?” demanded Maggie. She emerged from around Wilda’s legs, her wings buzzing angrily. “You made him upset, didn’t you? Why are you such a meanie?” Her lower lip protruded and she threw icy daggers with her eyes at the older changeling.

“Prince Reign Cloud is old enough to learn a few things. I am trying to help him. If you wish to know more then I would suggest you ask him. It is in regards to his health and wellbeing.”

The nymph hissed at the priestess, only to have Wilda boop her on the snoot with the tip of her hoof. “Mind your manners, Maggie.”

Chastised, the nymph hid her ears into her thick mane and pouted. “Yes, momma.”

“Apologize to the priestess!”

Zeala tutted, “It’s really not necessary.”

“Oh, but I insist my brood be respectful to their elders,” countered Wilda, casting admonishing eyes upon her adopted daughter. “What they think of them is irrelevant. Elders are to be respected, especially if they are pillars of the community.”

“I’m sorry, Miss Zeala.” Maggie appeared admonished.

Reign noticed something between Maggie and Zeala. He could not quite place a hoof on it. For a moment, he thought they appeared similar to each other. Their expressions, their mannerisms very much alike, yet they also seemed so opposite of each other.

Zeala departed at a stately pace, saying her goodbyes as she made her way down the stairs and out the shop’s front door. She was gone and in her wake a family of changelings pressed their faces up to the glass window of the flower shop to watch her leave.

“Who wears a thick black cloak on a warm, sunny day?” observed Rose. The elder nymph had been minding the store and had been the one to let Zeala in. Her rose colored mane was up in a bun and she wore a green apron emblazoned with the name of Wilda’s shop in bold white letters. “I mean, she’s gotta be a gazillion degrees under that thing!”

“All priestess wear black robes,” Wilda reminded her daughter. “It represents the burden they have accepted upon themselves.”

“Yeah, but black? It makes her seem evil.”

“Most changelings have black or dark gray chitin. Does that make them evil? Does that make you evil?”

“She looks like a two-bit villain.”

“Rose!”

“Well she does, momma!”

The next day, a carriage arrived to pick up Reign Cloud. He was spirited away home and he found he was torn. Reign was glad he would soon see his parents. Wilda gave him a big, sloppy kiss on the cheek before he left. He really liked her. She was nice, even if she was a bit stern. In a way, it felt as though he was leaving home again. The girls bade him farewell in their own way by glomping him and showering him with icky kisses!

Wilda laughed merrily at his expense.

Maggie was not amused. She let her sisters know how she felt by starting a brawl with them as Reign’s carriage pulled away and headed down the street.

Soon, Reign was home and he was ushered to his mother’s study. His mind was filled with confusing thoughts, thanks to the conversation he had with Zeala yesterday. Doubt filled his mind and heart when he looked upon his mother. In public, she was almost always the perfect image of a princess ponies had come to expect. Behind closed doors, away from the eyes and ears of the public, it was a much different story. Momma looked like a wreck and paced, threatening to wear a trench into the crystal floor of her study. She stopped pacing and a smile exploded over her muzzle when she saw her son. She seemed so worn and there were bags under her eyes.

“I am having a tailor make a new suit for you,” she told him when they broke their embrace. Cadence used a hoof to brush strands of Reign’s mane behind one of his ears. “I want you to look your best when Chrysalis arrives.”

“I don’t want a new suit,” whined the colt.

“We have an image to project.” She kissed him lightly on the cheek. “Why is your cheek wet?”

“Wilda,” he replied in a sullen tone.

Within an hour, as if it had been scheduled, the tailor arrived and was soon taking Reign Cloud’s measurements in his room. He was perched on a short, wide stool and was miserable. Reign was uncomfortable and cranky. Cadence paced around the tailor and her son, offering her own thoughts on how the new suit should look. The scratching of pencil on floating notepad filled the silence between the two adults while the colt stood there feeling ridiculous.

“I’ll just outgrow it,” he warned her while the tailor was measuring a foreleg.

“Then I’ll just have another one made for you,” came the bemused reply.

“If I live long enough,” he mumbled to himself.

“What was that?” Cadence asked, blinking. Her ears had perked upon Reign’s words and she gave him her undivided attention.

He wanted to tell her. He wanted to! Zeala’s words echoed in the back of his mind. Frustration bolstered his doubt. A sliver of pain crept along the length of his spine, making him go stiff for a moment. “Nothing,” Reign whispered to the floor.

Momma could be such a cruel monster when it came to demanding the best from her family. Aunt Celestia was worse. At least Aunt Luna would have understood. She hated formal functions, having adapted to modern times by keeping to her nights and snubbing political intrigue. It was not as brutal as she remembered and therefore no longer fun. At least, that’s what the colt had heard her mutter under her breath once. It had been a boring dinner with several monkey dignitaries. The only reason Reign remembered was because they were Howlers.

Momma wanted Reign to resume his studies, having put them on hold during his stay at Wilda’s. Sullen, the colt thought she was pushing him away again. Anger began to take a hold in his heart. It throbbed and caused pain, but it was bearable. Pain had to be tolerated. Pain was a part of his life. What was a little bit more?

Reign Cloud wondered if such stories he had been told were true. Aunt Celestia and Aunt Luna were both mischievous. The Howler monkeys, well, were very loud and obnoxious. The memory always left him shuddering. It had been a very boring night indeed, punctuated by the occasional howling sound one of the simian dignitaries would rattle the castle with.

With the stories came reflections to the conversation with the priestess. Was she speaking the truth? She had to be lying.

The seizure struck without warning.

The rage started shortly after breakfast, leading up to a seizure. Reign Cloud was in the middle of one of his tutoring sessions for world history and international relations. The question his tutor had asked was one the colt did not know the answer to. Reign was certain the answer had to be on the tip of his tongue. For the life of him, it was not forthcoming. The question was repeated, the tutor’s tone patient and expectant. Reign Cloud had always been an attentive student. His grades weren’t spectacular, but he was never in danger of failing any of his courses. Instead of answering, he became angrier and angrier. It was as though something else took control over all of his functions and Reign was unable to do anything more than watch.

Then, despite his best efforts, Reign Cloud snapped.

He exploded at his tutor, flaring his wings and baring his fangs. He hissed in frustration, shoving his books and papers off his desk. His little body seized up and the colt toppled over, frothing at the mouth. The frantic tutor scrambled for help, screaming at the top of her lungs. Reign Cloud’s body contorted and froze, his body rippling in agony. An eternity passed and he felt his tongue roll into the back of his throat. Wide eyed, he struggled to breathe, unable to move. Tears streamed down his cheeks. His vision began to fade, his hearing tuning out the world. The faint sound of thundering hooves left him musing if it was all too late.

22. Chrysanthemum

Edited by TuxOKC.

Reign Cloud awoke in his bed with his parents on either side of him. Momma was sitting on her haunches, leaning into the bed. A pink hoof rested on one of the colt’s own hooves. Shining Armor was trying his best to look calm, but Reign could feel his worry. It was as keen as his momma’s. Poppa smiled at his son. Cadence offered one of her own through puffy eyes and tear stained cheeks. At the foot of his bed was the castle’s doctor and the entirety of his staff keeping a respectful distance.

Doctor Strangehoof was speaking quietly with one of his nurses. He had the appearance of having been hurried and harried to come. Strangehoof was an elderly powder blue unicorn stallion who wore a rumpled blue suit and an undone tie dangled from around his neck. His crimson mane was disheveled and his eyes had bags beneath his horn rimmed glasses.

In the shadowed corner sat the dark and tall figure of Zeala upon the very overstuffed chair Momma used to read stories to Reign when he was very little. The priestess was watching everything from beneath her large hood. Her eyes glowed softly from within the shadow it cast over her muzzle. The tip of her snout could be clearly seen and her fangs reflected as dull blades in the muted light of the bedroom. A storm had settled over her face. Her scowl would have frozen the sun.

Reign hated her. He hated the way she seemed to have control over his life. He hated it when she approached with that medicine, that wretched stuff! Her words, they were honeyed poison, yet they enticed his mind. He could not break his gaze from the priestess and the stare she returned was both impassive and intense. Her orbs flared for a brief moment before going dim as she dipped her eyes beneath the edge of her cowl. Zeala’s lips moved in silence, uttering words Reign could not understand.

“Reign?” Momma’s voice reached him like a soft and worried song. “Reign, sweetie, how are you feeling?”

It ached to move his neck. His body felt so sore! Still, his mother’s voice compelled him and Reign turned to the sound of her voice. Her muzzle touched the side of his head. It was a gentle touch, one only a mother could do. “I hurt, Momma,” Reign whined, fighting back his tears. “I hurt real bad.”

“Shh, it’ll be all right,” Cadence whispered into one of his tufted ears. Her worry washed over Reign, making him feel even more uncomfortable. “I’m here. Doctor Strangelove, could you and your staff kindly give me time alone with my son, please?”

“Of course, Your Majesty,” bowed the stallion. He turned and quietly ushered his group from the room. The whispers were full of worry and carried little hope with them.

“Your worry is hurting me,” he mumbled, sorry he said it and feeling guilty. “I can feel your love. I can feel everypony’s love.” This was not true. There was one in the room who had no love for him.

She had lied to him.

The corner of the room was cold indifference, but it flinched at his words. A hiss issued from it and Zeala shifted in her seat. The cold faded away and the tip of her horn lit up in a sickly green sheen. Love came from her, though it felt… wrong. Reign could not study it more as his pain dulled his senses. He whimpered in his suffering. Cadence nuzzled him, her love pouring from her like Neighagra Falls. Poppa’s presence was suddenly there, on the other side of him, offering his own love. Basking in his parent’s affections, Reign felt a little better, but the pain was still there.

The pain had always been there.

This was his life. Pain was his life. Unable to do so much, unable to be like other foals and nymphs.

“I want it to end,” he said to no one in particular. Or maybe he directed his words at Zeala? Their last conversation rang loud and clear from his memory. “This isn’t living. This is Tartarus.”

Cadence froze. “Oh, Reign,” she said in a broken voice. “Oh, my foal, don’t say such things. There’s hope. There’s always hope!”

“Son, you shouldn’t think like that,” Shining chided. There was a hitch in his voice.

Reign Cloud blinked and forced his eyes open. It was very painful to do. “Where’s Maggie?”

“She is with her family,” Momma replied. “They are here in the castle. Would you like for me to send for her? Would that make you feel better?”

“It would be wise,” offered Zeala, speaking for the first time. “It would be my pleasure to bring the nymph here.” A wan smile could be seen on her muzzle. She rose from her seat, her robes spilling over her slender frame as she shifted.

“That is most kind of you, Zeala,” Poppa said with a nod. Reign thought he looked frightful. The colt wondered how much he had inconvenienced other ponies from their duties. He inhaled a deep breath and broke out into a coughing fit.

Zeala nodded once and swept on out the door.

“I’ve ruined everything,” Reign said after Zeala left in silence. His lungs felt as though they were on fire. “My birth mother is coming and I had a seizure at the worse possible time.”

“It’s not your fault, dear,” Momma assured, giving him a gentle nuzzle.

“Zeala says she has a cure,” he blurted. “She told me she has a cure! She says she has been afraid to tell you because she uses black magic!” Why did everything have to hurt? Tears welled up in his eyes again. They spilled out even though he tried to keep them in. Even as his tears spilled, so did every detail of his last talk with the priestess.

The mood in the room fell into absolute chaos. Rage mingled with love, creating a cauldron of confusion. Shining and Cadence looked at each other, eyes wide. They then looked at their son, filled with disbelief. It was as though they had been broken from a spell.

“When did you find this out? When did you have this talk with Zeala?” demanded Poppa. He was upset. Shining turned his head to Momma. “You’d better get word to Celestia. It’s happening again. It’s happening again!” he fumed, rising to his hooves. “It’s just like when she took over me! It’s happening again, dammit!” Shining Armor started for the door, his steps like angry thunder.

“Where are you going?” Cadence asked, clutching Reign to her. She was afraid, so very afraid! Reign was reeling from the shifting emotions in the room.

“I’m going to deal with this!” he snapped, turning to face his family. His anger was palpable and it morphed for a moment into helplessness. “How long has she influenced us, Cady? Dark magic? In our home? Used around our ponies? Why is it every time we turn around, there’s a changeling trying to take from us?”

“Shining Armor, do not abandon your son for the sake of revenge!” commanded Mi Amore Cadenza, using her full authoritative tone. “Summon the Guard. Have them deal with her. You are needed here, in this room, with our son.”

Poppa’s eyes became sad as his gaze drifted from Momma to Reign. Those eyes hovered upon him and anger welled up from deep within the stallion. “I can’t, Cady. I have to do this myself. Stay here. I won’t do anything stupid. I’m prepared for dealing with a powerful changeling. I do this for our family.” He turned and stormed out the door. “Zeala!” he roared.

“Momma!” Reign cringed into his mother’s chest. “I shouldn’t have said anything! She’ll hurt him bad!”

A startled cry erupted from just outside the door. It opened and Shining Armor was caught up in a bubble of magic. He raged from within, but no sound could be heard. The sphere had a green hue to it, barely able to squeeze through the threshold as it floated into the room. Behind it was an imposing dark figure, slender and tall. A crooked horn, massive and intimidating was the most obvious feature of its owner.

“Shining Armor,” cooed a layered voice, “I had thought you had learned some wisdom since last we met.” Poppa raged on, pounding his hooves against the inside of the sphere. It was shifted aside, revealing the powerful figure of a changeling queen looking upon the bed with a critical eye. Reign noted she did indeed have one eye. He recognized her on the spot.

She strode in, adjusting her diaphanous wings, letting them buzz and making light sounds tingeing on what seemed amusement. Her teal mane hung, almost straight, over her right shoulder with strands dancing over her left. Her crown, a tall, crooked adornment just behind her horn was lifted by her magic and set down on a nearby table with an almost careless indifference. Behind her trailed her long tail, sweeping the floor from side to side with each elegant stride.

“Not exactly how I had wished to come into your home, Mi Amore Cadenza, but your husband was about to do something rash. We can’t have that now, can we?” Reign noted how her right eye was like a pearl, and familiar to him. “Now that your enemy is exposed, you must plan carefully before moving. The game must be played correctly, lest you lose the pieces that will cost you dearly.” She plopped Shining down into the very chair Zeala had been in before, her lone eye focused on Reign Cloud. “We can’t have that now, can we?”

“How did you get in?” demanded Cadence, trying to use an authority in her voice that was not there. “How did you get past the guards?”

The queen rolled her one good eye. “It’s not that hard, Cadenza. I’m a changeling. I adapt. Your defenses are so last month.” An almost playful grin danced over her muzzle. It disappeared, replaced with a frown. “I am disappointed in you, Princess. I gave you my heart, my most important possession, and you let a power mongering whorse of a priestess lay her grubby hooves upon him. Even worse, you allowed dark magics to be used upon your family. I did not catch it myself until it was far too late, but even then, I had no means to counter it. At least, not at the time.”

“Hello, Reign Cloud, my Pale Shadow,” The colt suddenly felt her eye on him, even as he could not stop staring at her imposing figure. She was as tall as Aunt Celestia. The Black Queen softened her expression a little as she presented him with her full attention. “Do you know who I am?”

His voice was little more than a squeak, but he was able to nod in the affirmative.

“I am sorry this has come to happen,” she told him, her ears drooping and swinging behind her. Her neck bent as she tilted her head towards him, a moment of pain wincing over her features. “I had to protect you and Zeala was my only contact. I had to use her to put you in the most protected place I could think of. If I could have taken you with me, I would have.”

“Why are you here?” Momma demanded, pulling Reign close to her chest and glaring up at the changeling queen.

“I’ve been in your fair city for quite a while, Cadenza,” replied the changeling with an innocent expression. She lifted her head and helped herself to a spot near the bed. “I’ve had agents watching. I have been watching. Needless to say, I have not been impressed. If I could have acted against Zeala, I would have. However, I found myself in the same dilemma you no doubt have unwittingly allowed yourself to be drawn into. Zeala has the answer to my son’s cure. I do not care if the magic she used in the past is forbidden. My son must live. My son must be made whole. The priestess has secrets and only she will reveal them. She is the only one who can. The magic at her disposal is ancient and all but forgotten. Her magic is that of Sombra’s,” she smirked, “and no one wants to even think of using it without turning into a pile of spineless goo.”

Shining Armor was still pounding on the inside of his spherical prison.

“I will release him if he promises to be a good boy. I am not here to wage a petty battle over revenge and past wrongs. I meant every word with the peace terms I offered. I have an investment to protect.” She turned her head slightly towards the sphere before flicking her eye back upon Reign. “Will you be a good boy for the sake of our son, Shiny?” Her grin was fanged and perfect.

Reign was a little more than afraid of that smile.

Poppa had stopped pounding on the magic ball. He appeared to be breathing hard and looked exhausted. He looked away from the queen, glaring hard at the wall.

“Good.” The queen released her spell and the stallion was dropped onto the chair with an unceremonious plop. “We can still have all the pomp and pageantry on the day of my official arrival, but for the moment, I propose a mutual alliance against that little tart of a priestess, hmm? I promise if you like, we can resort to name calling and accusations later, but let us first deal with—”

The door opened and Maggie bounded in, half buzzing in flight on her wings and half pronking on her hooves. “Reigny!” she cried happily.

Behind her came Zeala, still with her hood up. She sniffed the air with caution. “I smell strange magic,” she announced, uncertain.

“—Priestess Zeala,” the queen greeted with a polite tilt of her head. Her smile was that of a predator. “I am so pleased to see you are in fine health.”

Maggie paused in mid bounce, her wings catching her as she hovered, near eye level with the queen. “Whoa,” she said in awe.

“Oh, child, don’t let my appearance keep you from your Intended,” she told her, reaching out a hoof and booping her on the end of her muzzle. “Go. He needs you and it would please me if you were with him.”

Maggie beamed. “Okay!” Her mass of mane bounced with her bobbing head. It seemed to have a life of its own. Landing on the edge of the bed, she scooted right up to Reign and was pulled into a pink embrace.

Zeala blinked and caught her breath. Surprised, she croaked, “Queen Chrysalis?”

An ear flicked and the pearly eye seemed to fixate on the priestess. The smile morphed from something genuine to one more meant for annoying company. “Ah, so you have taken to the pony name for me. How… modern.”

“There has been much to learn since the city was freed from King Sombra’s magic,” Zeala said, having recovered from her shock. “You were not due here for a few more days.”

The queen lifted a hoof and swept it over Reign and his mother, “How could I put off a chance to meet my son? Ten years is a long time to wait. I’m afraid I was a bit too impatient. I apologize, Princess Mi Amore Cadenza, if I was a touch too forward in my presumptions. I had thought with you being the Princess of Love, you would fully understand a mother’s love for her nymph. Especially after such a long separation.”

“I—, of course,” Momma stuttered, narrowing her eyes at the imposing figure. As if by magic, her face shifted and became warm and welcoming. “I could never keep you from Reign. It wouldn’t be right, after all.”

The Queen known among the ponies as Chrysalis smiled.

Cadence chose her words carefully. “It is completely up to Reign if he decides to accept you, so I think you do have your work cut out for you.” The colt could feel the battle she was having with her own fear.

“Momma?”

She responded by holding him tighter.

Chrysalis, this stranger he knew to be the one who birthed him, was feeling his fear. Her expression became pained and she winced from him. Despite his pain, Reign was awed being in the presence of his birth mother. She seemed more majestic than he had imagined. She was also scary. Maggie by now was snuggling, not bothered at all by the presence of Queen Chrysalis. His emotions were mixed, confusing him. His pain did not help. Maggie purred, as she liked to do when she went through her process of cheering up Reign Cloud. Her emotions suggested his birth mother was not a changeling he should be afraid of.

He was not afraid of her hurting him.

Chrysalis ignored all in the room, her focus solely upon the huddled mass of miserable. The nymph Maggie was clutching him, while staring up at the slow approach of the queen. Cadence shifted back, wary of her old antagonist. The princess appeared ready to lash out against the changeling, should the queen decide to do something foolhardy.

“You have nothing to fear from me, Cadenza,” Chrysalis sighed, curling the corner of her mouth downward. “I swear to you there will be no harm brought upon you and yours by me or my changelings. I will have peace. I will have the time I need to rebuild and prosper. I bear a gift.” Her eye rolled upward, held, then shifted its focus upon her offspring.

“I have something for you, Prince Reign Cloud,” the queen said in a whispering voice. Her ears swiveled forward, perked up, her mane bouncing with each step forward. She brought her head forward, bending her neck, assuming an almost submissive posture. “Something I have always wanted to give you, but never could. I would give you my love. A queen’s love. A mother’s love. It has always been my gift to you, waiting for this day so I might bestow upon you what has always been rightfully yours. Accept my love, my son, for I have ached for a decade for not having you there for me to give this love to.”

“No!” hissed Zeala, darting forward. The priestess struck an invisible wall and was quickly enveloped in a bright green aura. Chrysalis shot a glare at her with her one good eye, baring her fangs and hissing like a cobra. The priestess gasped and crumpled to the floor and was held there by sheer force of will. “You’ll ruin everything!” she managed, gasping.

“And what would I ruin?” snarled Chrysalis as she glowered at Zeala. “You wanted me separated from my son. This was your plan from the beginning all those years ago. Cleverly done, but I am curious.” Her eye lifted, shifting to Shining Armor. “Do be a dear and hold her in place. I am going to give my son my love. Watch her closely.”

A numb Prince Consort could only nod at her request.

“Thank you,” she said.

Her horn flared a brilliant emerald, her expression becoming tender. The changeling hummed, her voice soft and gentle. She became for a moment nothing more than a mother, reunited with her long-separated child. Sitting across from Cadence, the queen bent her neck again, turning so she could focus her one good eye upon Reign and Maggie. She smiled at them both, having taken a moment to take stock of the little nymph. An approving smile formed. Her horn flared even brighter, its magic flowing like a cascading waterfall and spilling over Reign’s small form. She could feel her magic invigorate, the power of a mother’s love pushing back much of the poison ravaging his little body. Her humming went on. It was the same song she had hummed to him the night she left him all those years ago. A tear rolled down her cheek as she took his pain as her own, drawing it from him. More love came from her and his pallor improved. It was a slow change and there was an almost immediate improvement to Reign’s condition.

Cadence inhaled, catching her breath as her lips trembled.

“It feels so good!” Maggie announced, turning her head and stretching her neck out towards Chrysalis. Reign Cloud would have stared, too if he did not have his eyes rolled back into his sockets. The pain was gone! All of it!

“No!” wailed Zeala.

All too soon, the love stopped and the queen withdrew. Her smile was addictive. “There we are!” she announced. “It’s nothing permanent. Whatever it was Zeala did has been pushed back for now. I tried to purge as much of the dark magic as I could. It is very old, very primal.” The smile vanished as she focused on the alicorn.

“Thank you,” Cadence said in a trembling voice.

“I am taking Reign,” Chrysalis told her.

Cadence flared her wings, straightening herself as confused anger erupted from her. “What? No! I won’t let you!”

Shining Armor rose from his seat, roaring in protest, only to be encased in another bubble at the tired sigh of the changeling queen. He pounded at it again, duplicating his entrance back into the room minutes earlier.

“Oh, not now, not today,” the queen waved an offhand hoof. “I make my claim as a queen in need of her heir. I must prepare him for his future as king. That is my right.”

“You can’t have him!” snarled Cadence.

“Princess Mi Amore Cadenza,” the queen spoke her name, sounding weary, “I did not place my son in your care so you could claim him as yours permanently. I placed him in your care so I could deal with those who would see him dead. I have succeeded. You failed to keep him healthy. He became sickly under your care. That was your failure. Oh, I do not doubt he loves you and I know he adores his father, but your time as his caretaker has come to an end. You cannot keep me from my son. We will deal with this diplomatically when I make my official state visit. I will announce my desire to reclaim my son publicly and for all the world to witness.”

Reign was still swimming in the magic flowing through his very being. He was hearing muffled voices, his body numb as it was still going through the process of healing. The colt felt wonderful, but his senses were dulled to the heartbreak his Momma was experiencing. He could not hear her wailing voice.

“As for Zeala? I won’t kill her,” the queen promised, making a fluid shift of attention to the priestess. “She is your subject and therefore your responsibility. I will respect that, at least. Nor will I do violence in the presence of the little ones.” Her eye flicked to Reign and Maggie, who were both basking still in her love. Her demeanor faltered upon seeing the peace on Reign’s face and she became hesitant. “I am sorry, Reign. This was not how I had hoped to see you again. I had hoped—” She cut herself off with a sigh, hanging her head for a brief moment.

When her head came back up, her face was stone. “I shall take my leave, Princess Mi Amore Cadenza,” her tone was crisp and rang with iron. “Until the official ceremony.” She turned and began to walk out of the room, which had several gawking ponies staring in. Wilda was there, having also been drawn by the commotion. They witnessed the queen pause next to Zeala, not bothering to even look at the quivering mass of frightened priestess next to her hooves. “If I ever see you near my son again,” she promised in a conversational tone, “I’ll string your innards over the altar of your beloved temple.”

“As for my name,” she announced in a ringing voice, “It is High Queen Chrysanthemum. Remember it well and stop with all this Chrysalis nonsense!” She moved to and out the door, with the onlookers scrambling to get out of her path.

Wilda looked upon the queen with swelling pride. “Your Majesty!”

Queen Chrysanthemum gave her a polite nod and a warm smile. “Broodmother. I have a request.”

Wilda nodded, “Of course.”

“I should like to take my son’s Intended with me when I lay claim to him. May I take and add her to my family? She would be most welcome and needed, I should think.”

Wilda smiled, revealing her long fangs. “I would be honored!” she gushed, blushing at such praise. She bowed low before the queen, more of a curtsey as her wings buzzed in her excitement.

“Thank you,” Chrysanthemum said with another nod, this one with a smile. “Cadenza isn’t a bad sort. Merely incompetent. I am very disappointed she failed at such a simple task of keeping one child safe and secure. If I had known you were around, I would have left my Pale Shadow under your care.”

From the room behind her, Cadence cried, “You will not take my son! He is mine, Chrysalis! Do you hear that? Mine!”

Chrysanthemum snorted, “Alicorns.”

Author's Note

I'm so glad I got this chapter out. I had the hardest time figuring out how to bring Chryssie out with the right amount of style and pizzazz.

I hope this does not disappoint.

23. Underestimated

Edited by TuxOKC.

The day had passed. It was eventful, considering Zeala was now imprisoned. Word of her treachery confirmed by Queen Chrysanthemum spread like wildfire. The queen had done little to nothing in hiding her presence. Zeala’s reputation would soon be in shambles and there was talk of suspending the sanctuary laws and going into the changeling temple. There would be outrage, as to be expected, from the changeling residents of the Crystal Empire. Princess Mi Amore Cadenza did not want that. The castle was abuzz. The aftermath of the sudden appearance of the queen was filled with rumors. She had a unicorn accomplice that teleported her in. There was a traitor within the castle’s staff. The guards were on the take. Prince Reign Cloud had called in his birth mother. Maggie was a master changeling infiltrator.

The day was spent quelling those rumors with a firm hoof. Cadence was at her wit’s end, though her outward Princess appearance was an unwavering show of conviction and stoicism. Her smile was replaced by the look of a mare that would broker no nonsense or outrageous claims. If a pony claimed something like one of the rumors heard, the alicorn confronted that pony and demanded proof of those claims. Rumors were crushed as quickly as they appeared, though word was still going to get out. It was a losing effort in the end, but the princess had to try. There was going to have to be an official statement to the press. Canterlot was notified, of course. Celestia and Luna would need to know what had happened. The ripples from the appearance of a potentially hostile changeling queen in the heart of a peaceful nation would resonate.

The sisters expected to be in the Empire by morning, as stated in their reply letter.

Lunch was all but forgotten in the chaos. Reign Cloud and Maggie were left alone. The colt needed rest and the nymph refused to leave his side, even after repeated pleas from her mother. Wilda gave up, shaking her head and feeling proud of her daughter’s show of loyalty. She had other reasons to show pride; the Royal Family had listened to her, showing the years of trust and friendship having borne fruit.

More important was their friendship had passed a critical test.

Evening came and the sun soon settled beneath the horizon. Dinner was a quiet, reserved affair between Shining Armor and his wife. He picked at his food, still troubled from his encounter with Chrysanthemum. A lot of bad memories had cropped up and he was having trouble dealing with it. As a result, his plate was more picked at than eaten. His wife understood his troubles all too well. Her food vanished from her plate, as she felt more ravenous than a parasprite in a corn field.

Cadence made a mental note to pay a visit to her doctor as soon as everything blew over.

A servant arrived, delivering a note with a request from Wilda to have a talk. The princess agreed and responded with a time and place. Wilda knew the castle well enough to know where. Dragging her moody husband, Cadence went off to meet with her friend, making a request for tea to be delivered.

In one of the many rooms of the castle, three prominent individuals ruminated on their encounter with Queen Chrysanthemum. Cadence and Shining Armor sat at a small round table. Wilda sat across from them, tending to Zinnia. A large cushion had been brought in for her so she could tend to her daughter. The expressions on the faces of the ponies were grave and troubled. Wilda kept her eyes on her daughter. She was holding a hoof over the nymph and letting her grasp and gnaw on it. An untouched tray of tea was on the table, having just been brought in.

“I am glad you took my advice in dealing with the Queen,” Wilda began. The silence had been awkward and a lot of it had to do with a stallion’s wounded pride. Cadence’s aftermath from Queen Chrysanthemum was close to mourning the death of a family member. “She was coming in looking to provoke you. You showed remarkable restraint, Consort Armor,” Wilda addressed the stallion with an appreciative nod. “No doubt she will be rethinking your stance towards her.”

She could feel the frustration from both frazzled parents, whom she had coached over the years on how to deal with changeling queens. Especially her former queen, to whom she admitted without shame an unwavering admiration for. Wilda was blunt, as always, and did not sugar coat her words in explaining to the ponies how changelings think. Calling them backwards in the use of their emotions was a bit unsettling, but she trusted her friendship with Cadence was more than strong enough to look past the cultural differences. Shining Armor tended to go along with whatever his wife felt. Wilda exposed her opinion of this, going so far as to point out this is what attracted Queen Chrysanthemum to him. He was the perfect consort and one any queen worth her weight in love would want in the father of their nymphs.

This made the unicorn feel a bit uncomfortable. It had been explained to him before, but now it was finally sinking in after all these years.

“She still laid claim to my son,” interjected Cadence, blinking as she watched Zinnia hiss with mock ferocity at her mother’s hoof. Her eyes came up and locked with steeled determination. “She can’t have him, Wilda. You know this.”

Reign Cloud was sleeping in his room with Maggie napping with him. She had refused to leave him, promising to protect the colt. There were triple the usual wards around his room and two guards stood outside his door.

Cadence poured the tea, serving her changeling friend first. “I was frightened, Wilda. I was so very frightened Chrysali—Chrysanthemum strode through my castle as though she owned the place.” She shook her head, holding the teapot aloft in her magic after she poured. After her hesitation, she filled a cup and hoofed it over to her husband. He quaffed it in a swift motion. “I’ve notified Canterlot. Aunt Celestia and Aunt Luna need to know our detection spells are not working. New measures have to be put in place. We should have known if she was here! How did she get past our defenses? Our wards were the latest!”

Wilda sipped her tea, her expression thoughtful. “Detecting a changeling that specializes in blending in with her environment is a near impossible task. Not all of our kind are as gifted as Queen Chrysanthemum. Her power is equal to that of an alicorn’s, if she’s at her peak. I warned you. We’ve discussed this before. This is why I urged caution and to let her have her game. She is probing you, searching for weakness. By creating a weakness that is not there, she could make a mistake. For the sake of her son, she would not do violence around him. Out of respect for you being a surrogate to her son, she stayed her killing magic. You had to let her have this show of dominance, if to put her at ease. Changeling mothers do use surrogates. They are almost always broodmares.” Wilda arched a brow and gave a lazy flick of one of her long, mulish ears. “You are an exception to the rule.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” interrupted Shining as he set his cup down. His ears were splayed out and he appeared frazzled, “How does showing subordination to her make us look like good parents in her eyes? I could have taken her, put her in a containment sphere, and charged her with attempted foalnapping with intent to do harm.”

Cadence gave him an incredulous look before shaking her head, “That would be like trying to take down either of my aunts, Shiny. Your shield spell might have worked, but the trick would be putting her in a position to be able to use your magic.”

Shining Armor glared at his wife, then gave out a little frustrated sigh.

“She would have fought you, unleashing her might with restraint only for her son.” Wilda took another sip of tea and winced at Shining, “You needed to make sure she felt there was no need to lash out. I appreciate you held yourself in check. You are a formidable warrior, Prince Consort, but the Queen was in no mood for a battle. She wanted to see her son, to touch him, and give him her love. Her magic is powerful, very powerful. I do not think Reign Cloud’s health will be a serious issue for at least a little while longer.” Wilda buzzed her wings and flicked her tail. “Zeala has much to answer for. Queen Chrysanthemum exposed her, but this dark magic...It is beyond my knowledge, Cadence. I’m sorry, but I never dabbled too much into the higher magics. I’m just a Broodmother.” She gave her friend an apologetic smile.

Cadence returned the smile, then sighed as she rubbed her temples with a hoof. “Dark magic. Sombra’s influence on Zeala must be strong. Very strong. How is it we never noticed the connections before?”

“Dark magic,” Shining began, hesitating and letting his words slip out with careful slowness, “dark magic can be used in persuasion spells. I think,” he blinked, wrinkled his muzzle and sighed, “ah, dark magic can be undetected if it is masked. Not all magic is understood by us. I was only given enough knowledge in dark magic so I could counter it, but this is old stuff. It might even predate the Princesses. Twilight might know more about this branch of magic. I’m good, but she’s a master.”

“Her knowledge isn’t as good as Celestia’s or Luna’s. Starlight Glimmer dabbled in a lot of dark magic,” Cadence said.

“Oh, yeah,” Shining Armor grunted, “Twilight’s former student. I remember her mentioning her not too long ago. Something about finding her controlling an entire town some time back. She was considered a terrorist until she went straight. I read the reports. I knew she had used forbidden magic, even abusing it to the point of stealing Cutie Marks. I wasn’t going to grant her permission to step hoof in the Crystal Empire until Twily vouched for her. I sometimes wonder if our society is at times too forgiving.”

“You are herd animals,” Wilda told him, arching her brow, “you ponies can’t stand one of your own straying from the path the rest of the herd follows. Those that stray from your path are almost always encouraged to come back and be a part of the whole. It makes it easy for you to protect those who would be weaker by themselves.”

Cadence laughed despite herself. “I suppose you’re right. We are a forgiving society, if a bit wary and cautious.”

“It is a strength of your kind. I envy it,” Wilda admitted. “The tea is good.” She took a dainty sip. “What do you intend to do with High Priestess Zeala? Her position makes it difficult to convince the changelings in the city to believe she is a threat to all.”

“She can stew in her cell until the Princesses get here,” growled Shining, gritting his teeth. “I want to know what she was planning to do to my son.”

Cadence huffed, “Our son, Shiny. So would I, dear. So would I.”

High Priestess Zeala fumed. A prisoner in a cell deep within the depths of the Crystal Castle, she paced her small confinemnents. Muttering under her breath, her eyes were wide and always darted to the heavy iron bars of her cell door. A single crystal glowed in the hall that she could see, bathing her cell in a dim light. King Sombra had always wanted his prisoners to feel despair in his dungeons. Cadence had yet to address upgrades her husband had proposed.

Zeala paced from the shadows, through the dim light and into the shadows on the other side. She turned and paced back. Back and forth, back and forth. The cell was small, a box measuring just over two pony lengths from wall to wall. A tiny cell door of iron bars, barely large enough to squeeze through was the only addition to the bleak cell.

Everything was ruined and because of her.

She still had her assassin. Zeala blinked, stopping dead in her tracks. Her head came up. Yes, she still had the assassin. Good bits had been exchanged. A deal had been made. A reputation was on the line. The timetable would have to be moved up. The queen was moving, aware the priestess was up to something. She had purged a lot of the magic from Reign Cloud, but not all of it. The core was still in place, Zeala was certain. However, there was a chance the core was now unstable. There might be no chance to control it. All the pain and suffering had given the core strength, the power within ready to be unleashed.

Ten years was a long time to consolidate power, to feed the essence of pain and misery of a Halfling into something the world had not seen since the times before the Unification. Once, ponies had been three Tribes. In those times, the Tribes fought among each other. Their hatred and warring ways had brought about horrors long since thought gone.

The soul intended for it was being cleansed of corruption. Too much had been invested to allow for such a thing! Prince Reign Cloud was the first of his kind in an Age. He was a bridge between two species and the magic within him, though not powerful, was of both changeling and pony. It did not need to be powerful. It only needed to be on both sides of the divide.

Zeala had understood the risks. Doing all within her power, she tapped into the magics taught to her to deflect and dissuade. For a decade, she had manipulated, worming her way into the favor of the Royal Family. All of what had been taught her, coupled with her growing understanding of this time compared to the time she had come from had been meticulously blended. The miasma spells she cast kept them from understanding the depths of her deception. Her manipulation magic concealed their own suspicions from them. The greatest fear was of one of the elder Alicorns discovering her intentions. Being open to them at first and then staying in the background seemed to have worked, but they would come. They would put themselves before the priestess and they would show their power.

Zeala knew she had no chance against them.

Everything was crashing down around her and it had happened with such suddenness. One moment, she was counting the moments to when she could unleash her vengeance and bask in the radiance of her victory. Her love would be restored to her and everything was supposed to be as it was and meant to be.

The next, she was foiled by the sudden appearance of that queen.

Chrysanthemum, the Black Queen. The Slayer of Changeling Queens. The Tamer of Emperors, the Beautiful Death. If she were an Alicorn, she would represent Lust and War. Time and time again the queen fought against everything sent against her and each time she emerged triumphant. The ruthlessness displayed by the dethroned monarch. She had not only taken her throne back, but she consolidated her power quickly and began striking back at her enemies. It was whispered over a dozen heads of queens who had fought against her had been collected personally by Chrysanthemum. Zeala knew the queen was no weakling back then, but her nobles had abandoned her, the Religious Caste condemned her for her half breed offspring.

It should have been easy. Convince the queen to leave her child with his birth father. Encourage her to go back and retake her throne. Emphasize the destruction of those who had wronged her. Against such odds, what were the chances she would succeed?

Years of planning had included contingencies against obvious overwhelming odds. One such contingency was in the form of a tooth in the back of her lower right mandible. Working it loose with her tongue, she spat it out. It was a tiny crystal that did not fall, but hovered at the level of her chest. Zeala knew she was alone. There were no eyes upon her. But the magic wards would detect the magic. There would not be much time before the alarms sounded if they hadn’t already.

“Mistress?” called a voice from the crystal. “Mistress, I am ready to hear your words!”

“Igor,” Zeala purred with the command she was used to having, “It is time. Prepare for the ritual.” She considered the assassin she had hired and her cronies. Too many coincidences plagued her mind in regards to that changeling. Zeala trusted her instincts and had prepared.

Changelings were devious and wore many, many faces. They played all sides until they settled upon the one that benefitted them the most. Zeala knew this as much as any other changeling. It was what made her race strong and untrustworthy. There were always opportunities for others to ruin plans to achieve their own goals.

As was mentioned, Zeala prepared.

“So soon? Ah—At once, High Priestess!” Igor was loyal. Igor was stupid. Igor worshiped the ground Zeala walked upon.

Chuckling, Zeala let the crystal drop to the floor. It tinged once, bounced high in the air and began to glow bright. Shouts could be heard down the hall. The alarms were silent, but the guards were not. As the crystal fell a second time, the changeling lifted a hoof. At the moment it struck the floor a second time, her hoof fell as she made a violent snarl. The crystal was smashed, and the light became a blinding flash.

The last thing the guards saw as they came upon High Priestess Zeala’s cell was a cackling changeling winking from existence.

Reign Cloud awoke to feeling hooves around his barrel. Blinking, his body felt numb and it was wonderful. Gone was the aches, the pains he had grown accustomed to. His head swam, but it was not in a sea of pain. The echoes of a strange voice still resonated in his mind, her words a confusing caress leaving him feeling conflicted. Why was he conflicted? Why was he feeling like this? And who was hugging him to death?

A sniff of his nostrils told him it was Maggie. The colt managed to look down at his barrel and saw one of her holed legs clutching at him. She had a possessive grip. Reign felt safe. Ears perked and swiveled back and he could hear her breathing in her sleep. Maggie was bigger than him. Even through her carapace, she felt nice against him. Heaving a great sigh, Reign snuggled deeper into his blankets, feeling very tired. Whatever the Queen had done to him had left him groggy and lightheaded.

But he also felt good. Reign couldn’t remember for the life of him the last time he had felt…

Was this normal? Was this what it felt to be normal? It was unbelievable! There was a niggling feeling in the back of his mind. He knew what it was after a moment. His mother had done more than just take away his pain.

I feel you. Light laughter echoed in his mind. I am content. I am you and you are me. Our bond is remade. She was brushing his thoughts, her attempts shy but inquisitive. From the other side, she wanted to know her son.

Reign inhaled sharply, his body going rigid. Mother? It felt natural to speak in his mind, even if it was awkward and strange. The word felt out of place going to anypony other than Cadence. Are you going to take me away? Fear and worry filled his thoughts. The Hive Mind was exclusive to changeling family members, he had been taught, the bond never fully broken even if family members had be separated for years. Wilda had been a good teacher and the lessons had been expanded by Maggie. Due to his pony heritage, the Hive Mind was never quite as stable.

Not unless you wish to come with me. I came to let you see me, so I can speak with you, face to face. I am sorry if I gave you that impression. Sorrow brushed against his thoughts. Her mind opened to him and he could feel her pain.

Anger riled up, Reign found he was pushing back the sorrow. I don’t believe you.

He could feel her sigh and the trembling resonating from her mind. I suppose you would not. I would feel the same way if our roles were reversed, my son. Her voice tickled and hummed in his head, making Reign shake it without thought. There is much about changeling culture I would like to teach and show you.

Reign squeezed his eyes shut and snorted, startling Maggie. There is much about pony culture you need to learn and respect, he shot back, I could feel the hurt you were doing to my momma and poppa. Did you think I would just be happy to have you back, when you are a stranger to me? Why couldn’t you just show yourself at that table with all those other rich snobs when Poppa was trying to get support for his hoofball team? Why couldn’t you just be upfront and honest? Why do you have to hide behind lies and illusions?

Chrysanthemum recoiled from his words. My Pale Shadow, I would never—

“Get out of my head!” Reign screamed as he bolted upright.

“Reigny?” Maggie blinked, looking up at him in shock and worry. “Who are you talking to?”

“Queen Chrysalis,” he growled, flaring his wings. You’re evil. Go away. I don’t want you. I don’t need you. I have everything I need here. I have Momma and Poppa. I have Maggie. I don’t want anything to do with a warmongering monster.

The vastness between his mind and the queen was silent. It remained so for several long and agonizing moments. A dawning horror occurred to him. Reign had no idea how to close the connection. He searched about in his mind, thinking of anything that might work: closing imaginary doors, imaginary windows, chimney chutes, even pulling a mental blanket over his head. Nothing worked. Instead, he felt what he thought was faint weeping echoing deep from the other end. The young colt felt remorse for his thoughts. A consoling thought began to form, to reach out—

Only to be interrupted from the room exploding around him with magical energies as the air shimmered. Dark forms appeared, their details obscured by swirling shadows throughout the room. Four, five, six winked into existence, and they moved with alarming swiftness. Chittering voices and hisses filled Reign’s ears. Fear filled his heart and he hissed back at them. Maggie was up, and she, too was hissing. Both displayed their fangs and flared their wings. Hisses became alarming chirps as the instincts to call for their mothers took hold. Panic began to set in.

“Two of them?” one of the shadowy fiends noted and questioned another.

There was a nod to the shadow that had been addressed. “Shut them up! We don’t need that damned broodmother showing up! Take them both. Our client awaits!”

Two of the shadows moved to the door, their magic charging up. Seals went up. Other spells were being cast. Reign could feel the air humming with magic. He snapped at one of the would-be foalnappers, his blood singing in his ears.

“Yeah, he’s feisty,” commented to shadow reaching for him. “C’mere, ya little shit.”

“Use a sleep spell, you idiot,” hissed one of the other companions. “In and out. We don’t have time to play. That bucking broodmare, remember we do not want to tangle with her!”

It struck Reign as odd the foalnappers were more afraid of Wilda than they were of Momma or Poppa. He felt insulted.

Maggie attacked, letting out a shriek of rage. A bolt of magic struck her full in the face. She was asleep before her body was caught by her attacker. Reign blinked, was about to roar in fury when his vision went bright, then suddenly black.

Author's Note

We're coming to the end.

Brace thyselves, my friends. The worst is to come. The next chapter will be coming and soon.

24. The Temple of Love

Edited by TuxOKC.

Reign Cloud awoke, irritated at having to wake up again. His temper was already on a short fuse and he had choice words for the foalnappers. Thoughts shifted as he opened his eyes, listened with his ears, and remained as still as a corpse. Ears picked up chanting. The voices were female. Eyes found little lighting as where he was had far more shadow than light. His nostrils flared as he made a slow inhale, testing the air. There was a musky scent, several, really, and some of them made him feel uncomfortable. The colt tried moving and failed. As more of his senses came to him, Reign began to understand his limbs were bound, his wings wrapped against his sides. A muzzle had been put on. His anger faded fast, replaced by fear.

Where am I?

He was laying on his side, his heart beginning to pound faster as his fear threatened to become overwhelming. The colt looked around as much as his bound body allowed him, searching out for Maggie. She had been with him. He could not smell her. A chirp escaped from his throat, muffled by the muzzle. Reign struggled, frightened and frustrated.

Movement to his right grabbed his attention. The shadows morphed and shifted, forming a tall, familiar figure. Green eyes glowed in the darkness and a jagged horn lit up the room like a torch. Zeala was without her usual robes and she wore a smirk on her narrow muzzle.

“Your mother almost ruined it,” she began as she moved towards the bound colt.

Reign hissed at her.

Zeala circled around him like a shark sizing up a wounded fish. “I’ve hated you, my little prince. I’ve always hated you. You marred my perfect face.” Her tone was conversational as her hooves clip-clopped with mincing steps over the stone floor. “I hated you so much, but I also realize you offered to me a purpose. Your purpose. I brought you here to bring about a dream I’ve held on to ever since I lost my love and my purpose.”

Another hiss was given in reply.

“My enemy is time, Reign Cloud. I needed another month for the spell to be completed. I had to let your hate and pain fester and germinate for a little bit longer,” Zeala said, then clucked her tongue. “The bitch ruined it. She just had to show up and ruin you as a vessel. I had prepared your body for so long, only for everything to be ruined. Ruined!” she shrieked, appearing with frightening speed in front of Reign’s face, her muzzle almost touching his.

Reign mumbled something at her, but his words could not form properly. As much as he quivered in fear, he also felt his hate for her grow. It was frustrating. She was monologuing like a cheap dime novel villain. Now his ears were ringing.

The smile forming in front of him was crazed. “But not all is lost. Something can be salvaged from all of this. My efforts will not be wasted. Ten years is a long time to invest in something wanted, wouldn’t you agree?” Her lit horn brightened and Reign felt magic envelope his body, lifting him in the air.

Zeala turned and trotted from the room, with Reign in tow. Her gossamer wings buzzed and flitted against her sides and her eyes were round and darting. “She’ll come. I know she’ll come. She knows you are in peril. I don’t have much time. There will be confusion. Yes, there will be that. I think I can use that to my advantage.”

She carried him down a torch lit hall, past small rooms where robed acolytes sat and chanted ancient words. There were changelings with them. Reign tried to figure out where he was. Was this the Temple? Was he on the sacred ground? He tried to look as much as his limited movement allowed. Soon Zeala brought him into the main chamber of the temple, the nave. It was open, the floor as smooth as glass. The vaulted ceiling was supported by smooth columns. A great chandelier hung from the center. Candles were lit upon them, giving a ruddy illumination. There was only one window, as changeling religion was a love affair with shadows. The lone window was large and circular, stained glass depicting the First Queen in all her loving glory. All changelings beliefs in love and the other emotions were based off of Her writings. They were reputed to be over ten thousand years old.

Upon the floor and arranged in a circle were more acolytes of the First Queen. They were robed in white and all facing the altar at the center of the room. Around the altar were flowers and lit candles. The changelings were whispering in voices Reign could barely hear. Their horns were pulsing with magic. The altar pulsed with them. Near the walls and standing as still as statues were several unrobed changelings. They appeared to be guards.

“Thank you, Daughters of Love,” Zeala announced as she stepped towards the alter. “The Communion will begin shortly. The colt must be cleansed. The First Queen will cleanse him.”

One of the acolytes spoke, casting a worried and pitying look at Reign, “What of the other one, the nymph that came with him? Is she also afflicted with evil?”

“No,” Zeala replied, giving a gentle smile, “she is innocent and but a victim. As soon as the son of Shining Armor is cleansed, then shall she be free of the dark influence coming from him.” She drifted Reign over the alter. “Bind him.”

“Yes, Priestess.”

Reign Cloud was placed upon the altar. Four acolytes closed in on him, bearing leather straps. With them, he was tied down. A fifth acolyte approached and began muttering in strange tongues, all the while flicking water on him with a thin wet brush that was dipped in a bronze bowl. The colt struggled against his bonds. It was useless. His heart pounded in his chest, his blood sang in his ears. Screaming against his muzzle, his muffled sounds caused the acolytes to give him pitying looks.

“Will she come?” asked a deep and feminine voice. “High Priestess, what of the one who birthed him? What of the heretic?”

“I have no doubt she will,” Zeala could be heard replying. “I do hope you have eyes and ears looking for her. I do not need you here, good Queen Myra. Allow me to do my duties so you may fulfill yours.”

“Just kill the little abomination and be done with it!” hissed the voice. It was approaching the altar, the sound of hooves striking the floor drawing nearer.

“Not one step closer!” Zeala snapped. “The cleansing ritual must be performed. I told you of this. I will not tolerate any more outbursts. This is a sanctuary and I will not have violence done without proper instruction from the First Queen!”

A frustrated hiss issued over the droning chants of the acolytes. “Very well. I am reluctant to leave that thing untouched. Its very presence offends me!”

“Leave me to my work, my dear queen.” Zeala’s voice was honeyed. “Be watchful for an unrepentant heathen. May the Eyes of the First Queen be upon you.”

Reign heard a harrumph, its owner turning and storming away on her hooves. “May the First Queen find favor in your toils, High Priestess. Come, my warriors. Let us await Chrysanthemum.” Buzzing wings followed, joined by others as changelings departed in haste.

Reign Cloud felt a sense of dread for Chrysanthemum. It was an ambush! They wanted her to come and try to rescue him! What if Momma and Poppa came? Would they also be ambushed? Would they be attacked by this Queen Myra, whoever she was? Was she one of the Black Queen’s enemies?

“Where is Igor?” Zeala asked. “Is he still with the nymph? Fetch him and have him bring her. She must bear witness of the cleansing.”

“Yes, High Priestess,” answered one of the acolytes.

Wide-eyed and terrorized, Reign found Zeala standing over him, peering down with eyes tinged with glowing magic. Purple and black danced around the edges of her whites, as if on an unfelt wind. Fresh waves of fear rushed through his body and he panicked, making frantic struggles against his unyielding bonds.

Zeala shushed him, putting a hoof to his barrel and pressing down. A mocking smile graced her muzzle. “Struggle more, my prince. Let your fears flow from you. Hate me as you have never hated before. You were born for a purpose and I will see it completed this night.”

The chanting changelings intensified their voices, tilting their heads back. One by one, their eyes rolled back into their sockets, their horns shifting from green changeling magic to white. The beams joined above Reign’s body. The acolytes went rigid, still chanting, their voices becoming a monotone song. The song was incomprehensible, the language one not heard in over a thousand years. Zeala stepped back from the altar, taking in her acolytes with a cool expression, going to each one before smiling again down at Reign Cloud.

“They are committed,” she told him with a dark chuckle. “The young fools. Such sheep. I have prepared for this moment. It is a pity I cannot see my plan to full fruition, but I can make due with what remains. Your mother ruined it. She ruined my chance at resurrecting my love. You would have been a vessel for my king.

“I envied your mother,” she went on, peering down at the colt. Reign was frightened now to the point of being immobile, his round eyes fixated on the crazed changeling. “She had what I tried to create for him. The one thing I wanted to give my love, I could not, though I tried. Oh, how I tried, my prince. Once I heard you had been born, oh how I wanted to know more about you! So many changes had happened in the past thousand years and I was in the middle of reaching out to descendants of my old friends. It was I who revived the old superstitions. It was I who drove the Castes towards a coup d'état. I gave them the old fears, reminded them of the old prejudices. I convinced them. It was so easy!”

Reign stared at her, not knowing what to think.

“There is time yet while they sing,” Zeala told him, brushing a strand of mane from her eyes. “What better way to wait than to tell you how your life was planned? I think you might appreciate the lengths I went to bring you here. I had to move quickly, of course. I was an ancient priestess remembered only in lore. I had great influence then and I found it increased only more in the shadows and among those who kept secrets. I was able to convince the ponies I had been a victim of circumstance under Sombra’s reign. I was able to use what he taught me to guard myself from accusation. The very spells he used to make a nation forget, I used to make that nation forget whom I once stood with.

“I was a beauty in the past. I was the same beauty when we awakened. I sought out my love, but he bade me to be among the slaves. The Alicorns were coming, for they had always coveted the Empire. They intended to usurp my beloved king and put their own puppet on the throne. He warned me because he loved me. I made him a promise. I made him a promise in blood and magic that I would return him to the mortal realm should the worst happen. If I could not do that, then I would bring it all down. This I swore to him. This was what I swore to King Sombra.” Zeala by now had leaned in and was whispering like an ill wind into Reign’s ear.

“You ruined me, my prince,” she said, showing Reign the scar on her muzzle. “You bit me, marred my perfection. Luckily for you, I remembered the bigger picture and did not kill you on the spot. I remembered the hope in my heart and stayed my hoof from crushing your tiny little skull. Your mother begged me to give you to your father, as the enemies I created to chase her had finally brought her before me. All of my plans had succeeded. I could finally put within you a gift that would germinate and grow within you. I had to make you weak. I had to break your body. I enjoyed doing that. I enjoyed the suffering you endured for the next ten years. The medicine I gave you was not for you. It was for what I had put within you.”

A rough, growling voice echoed from the antechamber, “Priestess! Priestess, I come! I bring the little one, yes!”

Zeala scowled, pulling herself away from Reign. “Lower your voice, you idiot!,” she hissed. “Put Maggot into the circle.”

Reign could not see what was going on. All he could see now was the light above his head, forming a globe of rolling, dancing magic. The humming filled his body, giving him a calming sensation. He tried to remember the breathing exercises Momma had taught him, closing his eyes and just focusing on his breathing. There had to be a way out of this! Would they come for him? Would they know where he was?

“Igor! Why do you dawdle? I told you to put Maggot into the circle!”

A cowed, hesitant voice replied, “But this is your daughter. This is my daughter. This is our daughter. I watched over the egg, tended the egg, yes. I tended it as you commanded and it hatched. Igor was happy when the egg hatched. Our egg. Why sacrifice?”

“Maggot is no longer needed. Her purpose comes to an end this night. There is one last task for her and then she will no longer be a reminder of my foolish inhibitions,” Zeala snapped. “Put her in the circle or I will flog you, Igor! I will flog you until your chitin is cracked and broken! Then I will throw you to my king’s legacy!”

Reign could hear Igor whimper. He had never met the gnarled and twisted changeling. Maggie knew him and said he was nice, if a bit weird. “A-as you wish, Priestess. Igor is not happy, but Igor obeys!” A sob broke out.

“You pathetic worm! I told you not to get attached to her! I told you what was to come! Yet you went and tried to bond with her, didn’t you? Idiot! Fool! Imbecil!”

The acolytes went on chanting, ignoring Zeala as she ranted at Igor.

Maggie chirped, calling out for Wilda. Her vocalization was filled with fear and panic.

Zeala roared, “Silence her! Why is she not wearing her muzzle?”

“Igor does not like the muzzle! It is a cruel thing to put on a nymph, yes!” whimpered the hunchback. “Why is Zeala cruel to her own child? Why do you hurt Igor by hurting your daughter?”

“Damnation! Get out of my way, you simpering weakling!” Reign could hear Igor cry out in pain, followed by a loud and meaty thump. “You stay there! You watch! The very thought I allowed you to touch me sickens me! Every day I look at you, I am reminded of my mistake. Every time I look at Maggot, I am reminded of your seed inside me!”

After long moments of nothing but chanting changelings, Zeala’s head popped into view. “My apologies for the interruption,” she hissed with a manic smile, “but I had to prepare the sacrifice. Virgin blood isn’t as important as the fairy tales say, but young blood, now that’s a different story! I want you to feel anguish the likes of which you have never known, my dear prince. I want you, in your last moments of clarity, to understand how much I hate you. But, all will be forgiven in the after, when your vessel is destroyed and your soul is fed to my pet. It was to be my beloved’s personal pet, but since I am to be denied my Sombra…” A horrid visage of hatred and fangs leered down at Reign. “I will destroy this city. If it cannot be for King Sombra, then all will be turned to ash. Then the eternal storm will cover everything with ice.”

Her lower lips quivered, her features softened. “You will be the catalyst, Prince Reign Cloud. All of history will know you as the pit from which the monster had come.” Her horn lit up.

“My daughter. My Maggot. I freely present her as the first meal. Do you know what a Windigo is, my dear prince?” Zeala smiled again, this one of a teacher prompting her student. “I’m sure you’ve heard stories. Your mother, the princess, she read you many bedtime stories, yes? Of course she did. She told me time and time again over tea. Always tea. Sometimes wine, I’ll admit,” she said, becoming thoughtful. “No matter.”

Reign struggled, but it was a feeble, worthless effort. Tears formed and fell. He didn’t want to die. He pinged the silence of the Hive Mind over and over again, only just now realizing the connection was still there. When had it been reconnected? A comforting presence took hold of his mind. It was alien, but he knew who she was. Reign wanted to recoil, but there was nowhere to go.

She was everywhere.

I am coming, my son! Rage. Unbridled rage roared through the bridge between his mind and hers. It was the fury of a firestorm and crackled all around him as though he was in the eye of a hurricane. Oh, my son, what has she done? What is she doing? Let me see through your eyes! I beg you!

“The ponies are coming!” cried an echoing voice from somewhere in the temple.

Zeala lifted her head. “Stall them! It is nearly complete!” Her eyes darted to the acolytes, then back down to Reign. “It is too late,” she crooned.

The white magic above Reign shifted in a sudden pulse to black and purple. The colors raged in the ball. The acolytes cried out, their horns sputtering out. They fell as puppets with their strings cut. Zeala’s horn charged with ferocious energy, the changeling gasping and gritting her teeth. “The ritual is complete! My beloved’s vengeance begins now!” she cried, the tip of her horn touching the ball of evil hovering above Reign. With a cry, she pulled it down, slamming the magic into the colt’s body.

Momma! Reign screamed in his mind. It hurts! It hurts! It hurts! His body writhed and spasmed. Deep within himself, he felt something stir. Newfound terror took hold as whatever was in him began tearing and clawing its way out. Magic crackled and ravaged his small body. Writhing in his bonds, Reign tried to scream, but found he could not. The spasms would not even let him cry out. It felt like his body was tearing itself apart from the inside.

Give me your pain!

Another presence filled his mind. It was not nice. Darkness came and with it, unimaginable cold. There was a whinny, terrible and hungering. Magic began to leak from Reign’s mouth and nostrils. A sudden urge to vomit made him convulse. He couldn’t breathe as his lungs seized up. His pounding heart felt as though it would burst at any moment. The raging magic flew from him, having lost its color and becoming a pale and ominous blue. The chamber became cold. Frost appeared in Zeala’s breath in the few moments he did open his eyes.

“Yes! Come to me, my pet!” she exalted.

There was an unnatural scream. It did not come from Reign. The reforming magic above him was taking shape. An elongated muzzle appeared on an equine face. There was a powerful neck and shoulders. Forelegs formed. A mane formed along the neck and head, appearing like a flowing snowstorm. Flakes of snow flew from it, swirling and filling the room with freezing air. The thing’s eyes opened, blazing with cold blue flames. It whinnied again, growing ever larger as it took shape. It thrashed and spun in circles in the air, knocking against the chandelier. It rocked, the candles flickering and dying in the blast of cold air coming from the fiend. The whinny became a scream of rage.

Reign felt cold. His body froze with fear. His heart skipped at the keening cry of the Windigo. It was as though his soul for a moment flickered, leaving an emptiness. Despair wracked his thoughts as it felt as though there could never be hope again.

Zeala cackled with glee, watching with adoration at the abomination growing in strength and size before her. “Feast, my pet! Feast upon the nymph I have brought for you! Feast upon her sorrow and fear! Let her blood give you strength!”

The Windigo’s movements slowed. It rose up, knocking hard against the chandelier. Its chains snapped and it fell. The Windigo saw this, snarled, and swept it aside with a toss of its head. It shrieked with rage, breathing upon it with a blast of its breath. A glacier of ice flowed from its jagged maw. The falling wrought iron struck the floor and shattered. There was a clucking noise, drawing its attention with a snap movement of its neck.

“Wonderful!” Zeala was grinning. “Come to me, my pet. Come! Let us feed you!” The massive head drew near and it sniffed at the priestess. It was massive, being larger than the changeling. Its body filled half the vast chamber. She pointed at Maggie. “Feed upon the nymph. She is here for your first meal!” She noticed Reign was still alive. “Why aren’t you dead?” Zeala demanded as though insulted.

The magic had shredded the bonds binding the colt. He was free now, but drained and in agony. His lungs were on fire and his head was swimming in pain. The priestess drew her muzzle to within inches of his, narrowing her eyes and prodding him with a hoof.

“You should be dead,” she told him in indignation. “The Windigo should have shredded your body. Unless it was the preparation taken to make you a vessel? Most curious. Ah well, it gives me the chance to finish you off and be done with you. Maybe let the Windigo have you for lunch, hmm? Would you like that?”

Gathering what little strength he had, Reign sprang at her with a snarl, latching his fangs on Zeala’s snout. His wings flopped and his legs kicked. Zeala reared back, hissing in surprise and pain. Flinging her head, she threw the colt from her. Reign had the sensation of flying before the ground caught him. He tumbled and slid until something stopped him. Groaning, he tried to right himself, his legs making feeble little kicks.

“My face!” howled Zeala, putting a hoof to her muzzle. It was covered in blood. “My beautiful face!” She stared in horror at her own blood on her hoof. “You little bastard! I’ll kill you!” She bared her gleaming fangs as hot breath steamed the cold air.

The Windigo watched, pacing in the air like a caged tiger. Its hungry gaze fell upon Reign. It whickered. The sound of that whicker was terrifying. Its eyes flickered to Zeala and narrowed. Fangs were bared, but it did not strike. It screamed in frustration, shaking the room.

Zeala advanced over the cold stone floor. Her face was etched with dreadful intent, her horn aglow. Hissing as she came, a dagger appeared from her robes and was floated next to her head, its point angled downward.

A sudden crash of shattering glass jerked her attention to the stained glass window. Shards of the First Queen’s image fell, followed by a black form shimmering in emerald magic. Behind it was a great ball of pink emanating love. The green ball was chittering in hot rage, with blazing eyes like emerald fires. A massive curved sword was poised to one side, glinting from the glow. It dove straight at Zeala, a battlecry filling the temple. Zeala turned her head, frozen in place, her eyes round as her jaw dropped in shock.

The blade flashed once in a sweeping motion.

Zeala fell in two pieces. Her head lifted with a shallow arc through the air, her eyes blinking once before falling with a meaty thump to the floor. The body crumpled soon after, a leg twitching.

Queen Chrysanthemum skidded past Zeala’s twitching corpse, her hooves sliding and fighting for purchase. She made it look easy as her body turned and she stopped, putting herself between Reign Cloud and the Windigo.

“Well,” she noted, staring up at the now raging Windigo, “there is something one does not see every day.” The sigh of a mare who found her list of things to do always having something new added to it escaped into the cold air.

The Windigo lifted its head and wailed. It was a keening sound and it felt as though it threatened to tear hope from all hearts. The vibrations of its voice made teeth chatter and knees buckle. Ears bled as its voice pierced higher and higher.

Reign clamped his hooves over his ears and screamed. Looking behind him, he found Maggie unconscious. Grabbing with his hooves, he pulled her close and bawled as though this was the darkest end of times. Maggie stirred at his touch, her little face scrunching in pain.

“So noisy!” she moaned, covering her ears.

Holed legs planted themselves firmly around them. Reign looked up and found the scarred belly of his birth mother filling his view. Her wings were spread over the the colt and the nymph.

“You cannot have them!” roared Chrysanthemum. Another sword materialized next to her and she spread both blades wide from her shoulders. Under her breath, she muttered, “Any day now, Shining.”

There was a flash and a pair of forms clad in polished armor appeared. One was a big unicorn, the other an Alicorn. Reign never felt more relieved in all his life. Both had their heads turned up to gawk at the Windigo, but they moved with purpose closer to the queen and the two little ones. The Windigo inhaled a deep breath, cocking its head back. Its eyes were huge and filled with dreadful intent.

“Shiny!” Cadence cried.

“I know!” he called back. His horn flared.

A pink bubble formed around the group just as the Windigo unleashed its freezing breath upon them. The blizzard struck with a wailing fury, raging against Shining Armor’s barrier. He appeared unfazed by the monster’s breath, his chin set in determination as he glared up at the legendary beast.

Cadence was unleashing her own magic, filling the bubble with her love. Reign’s hope renewed and his heart soared upon seeing Momma. A happy chirp erupted from his throat.

“Oh, that’s quite tasty, Princess,” Chrysanthemum snarked with a wry grin.

“Shut up,” Cadence told her, “and step away from my son.”

The queen did so, her face a mask. “Of course. You have changed, Cadenza,” she observed as Cadence nuzzled her son. Chrysanthemum averted her eyes, choosing to look up at the raging Windigo. Its attack had ended and it was staring in bewildered fury at Shining Armor’s barrier magic. Her swords twirled in the air before she willed them away. “Can you beat that thing?”

Shining Armor smirked. “There’s only one way to find out, isn’t there? Our priority is to the children and the citizens. The temples need to be evacuated and all non combatants moved away from the area. That thing is eventually going to sense the Crystal Heart and will make a beeline for it. It will want to destroy the Heart. Good emotions can keep it at bay, but we’ll need more than good feelings to kill it.”

Chrysanthemum rolled her eyes. “Well, shall we hug it to death, then?”

Author's Note

One more chapter to go! I hope to have it written ready to go by next weekend. Stay tuned!

Then, the epilogue.

Man, what a journey...it will be sad to see it ending.

25. The Power of Love

Edited by TuxOKC.

Cold. Bone-chilling cold. This was all that could be felt. It did little to numb the pain of a tortured little body. Whimpering sounds escaped from a colt’s lips. The world was nothing but pain, dull throbbing pain.

Reign Cloud was clinging to his mother’s neck, between her wings. She had them hitched up to help hold him in place. Her armor felt cold through his fur, but his hooves were able to find purchase on her layers of plate and chain mail. The changeling temple no longer had a roof. The Windigo had destroyed it when it flew into a raging fit. The colt’s ears hurt from the monster’s constant screaming. It was blood curdling. He stared past Cadence’s shoulders at the massive thing. It was battling the city guard as well as a horde of changelings. They flitted about trying to avoid the short blasts of frozen air the Windigo unleashed at them. In return, little bursts of green magic responded, striking the growing beast’s magical hide. Where had they come from?

As it was night, the outline of the Windigo was shrouded in darkness. Scattered clouds concealed its form. Moonlight bathed it as breaks in the clouds passed over. Arcs of magic soaring through the air, striking dotted impacts along the beast’s glacial hide. Seconds passed before the dull sounds of impact reached their ears. About it raged a storm of cold air, created by the mere presence of the Windigo. What light there was rippled over the monster and Luna’s moon gave everything a silvery sheen. Already several city blocks were in ruins. Fires had started and the streets were filled with panicked ponies.

They had landed just outside the temple grounds where an impromptu command center had been established. A shattered crescent moon lay behind it as the spire of the Temple of the Moon had been toppled by the rampaging Windigo. Father Sun Cloud and Perceptor Starcaller had joined them on the ground. The militant pegasus wore a grave expression hiding the glee she felt at the prospect of fighting the Windigo. The unicorn priest was aghast at the sight of the thing. Runners came in and out of the command center and orders were being shouted down the ranks. Part of the din was the sound of the aforementioned fleeing civilians being escorted from the war zone.

Cadence was wondering how long that…thing had been in her son. How was Zeala able to summon such a horrible monster? Was it a newborn Windigo? The princess found she was grateful to the queen for saving her—their—son. A moment longer, had Chrysanthemum been a few seconds longer, or had hesitated in any way, Reign Cloud would have been…

Mi Amore Cadenza was grateful, and far more so than she would like to admit.

How had she known? Was she still connected to Reign Cloud? Had she reconnected when she had touched him just a few hours before?

She was distracted and this was not a good time to lose focus on the danger. The Crystal Empire was under attack. The Windigo was tearing her city apart.

“We are short on pegasi,” Shining Armor noted to no one in particular. “Where did all those changelings come from? There has to be at least a cohort up there.” As he spoke, his head turned with deliberate slowness towards Chrysanthemum. She was glaring down at the hunchbacked changeling they had found crumpled against the wall in the temple. Igor was clutching Maggie as though Death itself could not pry her from him.

Noting his stare, the queen blinked and looked up. “What?” she asked in innocence.

“Them,” Shining said, pointing a hoof at the battling changelings.

“Ah, my personal guard.” She shrugged at him. “A girl needs to be ready for anything these days. Troubled times.”

A Crystal Pony officer trotted up to the Prince Consort. “We’re still trying to evacuate the Third Ward, Highness. Fear alone is making some of the civilians difficult to remove from the area. Many won’t move because they’re so scared. We need more time, Consort.”

“Dammit,” Shining spat. “Are the reserves still assembling?”

“They are, milord.”

“We’re also short on unicorns,” he mused, staring at the Windigo with thoughtful eyes. “Call up the magi recruits. I know they’re not ready for battle, but we’re going to need magic to fight that thing. We can’t hurt it as much as I would like, but we do need to keep it away from the Crystal Heart. That thing shrugged off the queen’s attack as though it was nothing. There’s something else,” Though he knew nothing of Windigos other than what he had read in books, Shining Armor thought there was something more to the monster than just a shade driven by hatred.

Chrysanthemum snorted and hissed at him. “As if you could do better, Shiny. I would offer you my army. The vanguard can be here within the hour.”

Cadence narrowed her eyes at the changeling. “What is an army doing within our borders?”

“They’re there on the offhand chance you decide you want to do something foolish,” replied the queen in a casual tone, “Trying to capture me, for example. I know we don’t have a friendship that is the envy of the civilized world and I did get impregnated by your husband. By the way, how is your own little flock doing? Still knitting little booties in hopes they may yet be filled?” A hint of cruel amusement was reflected in her tone.

“We don’t have time for this,” Cadence snapped, shifting her back legs and glaring at the changeling. “My maternal standing is none of your concern. All I know is I have raised a wonderful son who had an opportunity to know his father and want for nothing.” She paused, opened her mouth to add more, but closed it. Shifting her attention, she glanced over her shoulder at Reign, who had been watching the exchange with a worried frown. “I need to get my son checked. I have no idea what Zeala did to him. Why did you kill her, Chrysanthemum?” she asked with a sigh. “She was using unknown magic to manipulate not only me and mine, but you as well.”

The queen shrugged. “It seemed like a good idea at the time. I was aware she had been using means to manipulate my emotions and I took extreme offense. Look, I have my personal guard fighting whatever the Tartarus that thing is—”

“Windigo,” supplied Shining, trying to be helpful.

“—right, and I have no intentions of letting it destroy more than it already has. This is my son’s home.”

Maggie woke up and began to chirp for Wilda. Struggling against Igor’s grasp, she began hissing at him. Reign responded from his mother’s back to his friend, reeling in his own pain, chirping in reply. She heard him, turned her head and cried, “Reigny!” Maggie burst into tears.

The hunchback let her go, melting under the glare of Chrysanthemum. “No hurt Igor, big pretty one-eyed queen!”

The queen chose to ignore him, her attention fixated on the colt and the nymph. Her outer shell showed a crack as her eye seemed to mist. Her ears swung back and forth over her neck before she addressed Shining Armor, “My soldiers are at your disposal, Shiny.”

Cadence picked up Maggie and set her with Reign. The pair clung to each other as though their lives depended on it. She lifted her head and narrowed her eyes at the Windigo. “I have to fight it,” she said. “This is my kingdom and my responsibility. That monster feeds on negative emotions. I can counter that.”

“You know how to fight?” questioned Chrysanthemum with a wry grin. “But you’re so...fru-fru.” A holed hoof gestured at the alicorn’s armor. “So pink.”

Cadence chose not to reply. “Shining, you’ll need to get in between the Heart and the Windigo. I’ll hit it from behind while you distract it.” She glanced at the changeling queen, “If you want to help, help. If you’re not going to help, at least don’t be a hindrance and keep civilians from the combat zone.”

“You expect me to play peace officer?” snorted Chrysanthemum. “Not bloody likely. I’ll help just to prove to you my intentions are honorable.”

Shining snorted, “Honorable? I doubt that.”

She pointed. “Look. Windigo. Terrorizing your subjects. Let’s focus on that, shall we?” Chrysanthemum threw him a winning smile, revealing rows of sharp teeth flashing in the moonlight.

The stallion made a loud snort, turning his attention to a certain armed and armored pegasus. “Perceptor Starcaller! I need you to cover my wife in the air. Can you do it?”

The big pegasus mare called out, “Of course I can!” She seemed insulted by the question. Shaking out an ugly chain mace, its steel spiked ball thudded against the ground. “My weapon is enchanted. It should at least annoy the Windigo.”

“I’ll go with you,” growled Chrysanthemum. Her eye fell upon Reign Cloud. “I have my own interests to protect. Even if those interests want nothing to do with me.”

Cadence hesitated, her brow furrowed with concern. “I suppose every little bit helps.”

“So nice of you to be so inclusive,” said the queen with a humorless chuckle. “So, sunshine and rainbows to bring down the beast? Is that the plan?” She was studying the raging beast as it swatted several of her changelings down. “I’d like for my changelings to survive this, if you don’t mind.”

“The other queen.” Reign blurted to his mother, “There was another changeling queen. What happened to the other queen?”

Chrysanthemum answered before Cadence could reply, “She met me and lost her head. Tragic, really. Not much of a challenge. Her soldiers ran the moment she fell. For some reason she took offense when I killed her mother in battle three years ago. Her mother was a terrible changeling. Terrible fashion sense. Wanted you dead, my Pale Shadow. Remember that.” A wan smile filled the uncomfortable silence. “Come, Princess Mi Amore Cadenza, let us give yon beast the Snuggle of Death.” Her wings fanned out and buzzed, lifting her off the ground with no effort. She threw an expectant look at the alicorn. “Coming or am I going to have to do this myself?”

“Momma,” Reign hugged Cadence’s leg. “I love you.” He knew he couldn’t ask her to stay. Her duty called. Yet, he could not help himself. “Don’t go. Please don’t go!” Tears welled up as his lower lip trembled.

“I will keep her safe, my little morsel,” Chrysanthemum offered. “I swear to you.” She turned and drifted towards the raging Windigo.

Cadence tilted her head to one side, confused at the queen. Her eyes then widened. “Ah, so you do love him,” she whispered to herself. Being firm and gentle, she extracted Reign Cloud from her foreleg, nuzzling him. “I’ll be back before you know it. I love you, Reign. Never forget that.”

Reign looked up at her, blinked, then focused on her belly. “I can see my sister.” Tears streamed down his cheeks and he hiccuped.

Startled, Cadence felt her heart stop. “Well then,” she said, her words slow and deliberate as she floundered, “I’ll just have to be careful, won’t I?” There was a flash of light around Reign. She angled her line of sight and noticed his flank. A smile formed and she noted, “And we’ll have to throw you a cuteciniera.”

“What?” Reign was confused, then followed his mother’s eyes.

Cadence laughed, “Reign, I want you and Maggie to go with Father Sun Cloud. Stay with him. Can you do that for me?”

The old priest perked up. “I’d be honored to look after him until your return.”

“I don’t wanna,” whimpered Reign.

“My son, please. I need to protect our people. Ponies and changelings. They all look to me to protect them from monsters. That Windigo won’t go away, Reign. It will try and destroy everything. I’ll come back, I promise.” Cadence nosed him towards Sun Cloud. “Maggie, stay with Reign, okay?”

“What about him?” Sun Cloud asked, giving an pitying look to Igor.

Cadence sighed, “He’s harmless. Have him put with the other acolytes from the changeling temple. There are a lot of questions that need to be answered.”

“Igor tell you everything,” promised the hunchback. “Igor responsible for what Igor does, yes. Ill wrought. Sins on sins. The First Queen forsakes. Igor will be punished.” Defeat was in his posture and voice. “Igor wanted to be good. Igor failed at being good. Igor could not protect his daughter. Igor deserves what Igor gets, yes.”

“Shining!” Cadence called. Her husband had been engrossed with more messengers. He looked up to see his wife approach him in earnest. “I’m going.”

Putting on a brave face, he stood tall and straight. “I know. Be safe up there. You know I’d rather be doing this.”

She kissed him. “You need wings to do that, silly. I’ll be back and soon. No nasty Windigo is going to make a fool of me. Reign made a declaration to me. I’ll tell you what it was over breakfast.” Cadence smiled, gave her husband one last nuzzle, and took wing. “Watch over our people, Shiny. I love you.”

“I love you!” he called back, fighting to keep the tears at bay. Duty called.

“Are you finished?” Chrysanthemum demanded as the princess joined her. Her legs dangled beneath her in a relaxed fashion. “Said your goodbyes? Made your last will and testament? Made sure your burial plot wasn’t just another Flim Flam Brothers get rich quick scheme?”

“If you had a family, you’d understand,” Cadence told her as she came to a hover.

Starcaller brought up the rear. “Fight now. Measure female penises later.”

A changeling darted up to the queen, chittering. “Report,” Chrysanthemum commanded.

“The beast shrugs off our attacks,” the changeling said. “General Silent Wing is going to try and bring it down with body strikes. The creature is pushing towards the castle. It’s not even bothering to go around buildings. It’s trying to fly, but we keep knocking it down. Physical attacks are proving useless. Magic is effective, but barely. There’s something else. We’re sensing a powerful presence within the creature.”

“Presence?”

“It’s not just the creature itself. Some of the magi believe there is another within the Windigo.”

A thought crossed the alicorn’s mind. A name. “Why aren’t you using your Hive Mind?” Cadence asked.

The queen sighed and glared at the alicorn. “Because that Windigo seems to be able to disrupt our thoughts beyond our minds. We’ve been struggling with it and had to resort to messengers.” She smirked. “There! Open honesty right there! A foundation for a mutual agreement for our nations to not strangle each other to death! Now, will you please shut up while I get an idea as to what my soldiers have in mind?”

Cadence huffed and narrowed her eyes.

“Thank you. Now, what were you saying, Thorax?”

The changeling nodded and blinked. “We’ve managed to help evacuate the city block and assist the locals as best we can, as you commanded. The Broodmothers have been very helpful and many of the ponies are showing enough spine to keep the panicking to a minimum.” His eyes shifted from side to side. “The competence of the guard is better than our initial reports. They can’t detect us, but they are well organized and motivated. They’ve been around changelings long enough to be comfortable working alongside them. The General Silent Wing has been working with the guard captain.”

“I will not have bigots leading my military,” Cadence huffed. “I have changelings in my ranks, in case you were wondering.”

“Well aware of that,” Chrysanthemum told her. She assessed the Windigo again, curling a lip and licking a fang. It was whirling after a small group of changelings buzzing over its withers and firing in rapid succession at it. “Those are your troops right there. Very brave.”

They split apart as the Windigo breathed upon them. Two didn’t make it.

Cadence cried, witnessing the loss of life, “I have to stop it!”

“Trust in your soldiers!” the queen bade. “Let them do their job! Be patient, princess. We’ll strike when the moment is right. You and I, we do not have the strength to pin the monster down. I know you care about your subjects, but this is why you have soldiers. Those are the subjects who put themselves in harm’s way so those who cannot defend themselves can escape.”

“I know!” Cadence retorted, shaking her head. “It’s just so...hard to watch. I love all of my subjects, Chrysanthemum. I can’t stand to see them suffer like this! I don’t have a cold heart like you.”

“Yes, princess. I am cold. There is no time for me to have a warm heart. I am well aware of the ice within me. All too aware.” The queen continued to watch the Windigo with a studious eye. “War does that. And there is something off with that thing. Look at its eyes.”

“Ladies,” warned Starcaller, “I will wing slap the both of you.”

Cadence followed the queen’s indications. A lump formed in her throat and she let out a small gasp. “Sombra.”

Chrysanthemum rolled her eyes at the princess before turning her ire upon the pegasus mare. Whatever words were in her throat died upon sight of Luna’s priestess looking the image of terror. The chain mace was twirling with casual ease in her hooves and Starcaller wore a bleak expression. Her wings flashed mithril in the moonlight, revealing her deadly blades.

Chrysanthemum went back to watching the Windigo. Her eye had a sudden need to stare at something less terrifying.

“Ah, orders, Your Majesty?” Thorax asked, looking uncomfortable.

Broken from her moment, she spared him a glance. “Tell General Silent Wing to continue with his plan. As soon as the beast is grounded, the princess and I will strike. The usual signal, if you please.”

He bowed. “Yes, your Majesty!” Thorax zipped away with impressive speed.

“We can’t let him get to the Crystal Heart,” Cadence murmured to herself. Her eyes drifted up and down the Windigo’s form. It was disturbing to see how equine it was, yet in its gaze was a cold fury and little else. Was it an intelligent creature? Was it sapient? Could it be reasoned with? What was the purpose of Windigos? What knowledge they had was based on a lot of speculation. Shining Armor was relying on knowledge for combating magical creatures. “Maybe we can try talking to it. Starcaller, I need you to help the general. You can’t help me here.”

Troubled, the pegasus gave the Windigo an uncertain look. “As you wish, Highness.” It was clear she did not like being ordered away, but she trusted her princess. “Play nice, you two, or I will use my mace!” Turning on a wingtip, the armored warrior priestess darted off into the night.

Chrysanthemum made a wooden turn of her head to the alicorn. “Are you mad?” she hissed. “That’s foolishness! That is hatred given form!”

“Somehow Zeala managed to put something of Sombra into that spirit. I have to try.” Cadence ignored the changeling as she spoke for her own sake. “I won’t know unless I try.” She surged forward on powerful strokes of her wings towards the monster. Even at this distance, she could feel the cold emanating from its form.

“Don’t be a fool!” Chrysanthemum screamed after her. “Destroy your enemies, Cadenza! You cannot afford a monster mercy!”

“If I can avoid needless deaths, I will always follow that path!” Cadence shouted over her shoulder. Her thoughts went to her unborn daughter. Life within her! At long last! How did Reign know? She hadn’t known! His cutie mark was a mark of unification, of life and death. Was it because of his mixed heritage? She could not fear, for she knew the Windigo would grow stronger from it. Deny the Windigo that which it feeds upon and it would cease to be a threat. At least that was what Cadence hoped. Windigos had not been seen since the Unification of the Three Tribes.

Doubt crept into her thoughts as she approached the monster. She took a wide arc, taking the time to study it and determine if it would indeed be worth trying to talk it down. The magic the Windigo was giving off was growing stronger as it fed off the fear all around it. Its movements were becoming less chaotic and unpredictable, as if it was coming to its senses.

This was not a good sign.

Or was it?

Cadence could hear Chrysanthemum’s wings as the changeling approached. “Are you trying to get yourself killed?” the queen demanded.

“I know what I’m doing,” Cadence told her. If only she felt the confidence she conveyed.

“If you die, I will claim my son,” the queen said with a growl.

As the pair circled the Windigo, green balls of fire began streaking down from the stars. They grew brighter and brighter before striking into the monster with tremendous force. The flames sputtered out, leaving a changeling bouncing off the thick hide. Each impact was felt by the monster. The Windigo neighed in pain and rage, jerking with each strike as it was forced to the ground. More and more changelings rained down upon it. The howling wind became louder, screaming in the ears of Cadence and Chrysanthemum. The howls became the voice of the monster, vibrating them to their very cores. The Windigo whipped its head up and unleashed its frozen fury at the diving changelings. Purple tendrils of dark magic rose like cursed smoke from its eyes.

Its shrieking breath crackled through the air, leaving a swath of crystallized mist in the wake of its breath. Snowflakes swirled in the vortex, the Windigo at the center. Little dark forms, frozen in sudden death, rained down from the starlit sky. More blasts of arcane magic struck the beast, more changelings bombarded it with their precision dives. They had focused on its neck and shoulders.

The first of its massive hooves struck down, crushing a three story building. The Windigo’s head was higher than the roof. It had tripled in size since it escaped from the changeling temple. Its form was solid, which Cadence thought as odd.

Windigos were supposed to be spirits, weren’t they? Windigos were supposed to encompass the colors of winter and all the frozen storms of the North. Cadence wondered, keeping at a distance while the city guard moved in. More and more magic was hurled at the Windigo. It thrashed and kicked, toppling more buildings in the process. The street was littered with rubble and some dead.

She summoned up her courage and drew closer. “Bind its head! Keep it from breathing another storm!” she heard a voice roar over the battle. The air hung with an arctic cold. Shivering in her enchanted armor, the princess could see the changelings and ponies facing off against the monster were suffering from the winter it generated. She lit her horn and cast a warming spell. Landing on the cobblestone street, she folded her wings to her sides, her eyes locked on the raging chaos before her.

“Princess!” an officer trotted up to her. “You shouldn’t be here! It isn’t safe!”

Chrysanthemum landed behind Cadence, her own curiosity cast upon the Windigo. Behind her hardened visage was fearful awe. “I slew a dragon once,” she commented in an almost reverent tone, “but being near this thing fills me with a dread I do not like. Steel yourself, Cadenza.”

Starcaller landed, eyeing the Windigo with a raised brow. “We shouldn’t be this close.” The Preceptor gave Cadence a worrying snort. “It chills the soul.”

“Show no fear, show no anger,” Cadence told her without daring to remove her attention from the thrashing monster. Her horn glowed with a soft, pulsing pink light. “Stay behind me.”

“This is not a good idea,” insisted the shivering pegasus. A word was going to be spoken about not following orders later.

Cadence expanded her magic and moved forward, one slow step at a time. Love flowed from her, forming a barrier around her form. As she advanced, her confidence grew in her talent. Being the embodiment of Love, she prepared to step into the depths of Hatred. Cadence clucked her tongue against her teeth as she addressed the Windigo. “Shh! Everything is all right,” she cooed. “There is no need to be frightened. What is it you want, Sombra? Let me help you!”

“Princess, get away from that thing!” shouted one of the soldiers.

The Windigo gave out a bone-chilling neigh of rage and snapped at Cadence. It was already struggling to right itself, its two front legs thrashing about. As big as it was, it was very quick. Cadence hopped just out of range of the fanged equine maw snapping at her. “Hold him down!” she called, using the Royal Voice, “I need to try and communicate with him!”

“You’re kidding.” Chrysanthemum balked. “You’re kidding, right? You actually think that thing is capable of reason? It’s pure evil, princess!”

“I have to try!” Cadence insisted, never taking her eyes off the thrashing monster. Her horn lit up, readying a shield in case the Windigo chose to breathe on her. As much as she hated wearing armor, she was grateful for the padding beneath the metal. Concentrating, she allowed her special talent to reach out to the Windigo. Was it truly King Sombra given Windigo form? How was this possible? “King Sombra!” she cried to the monster.

To her surprise, the Windigo paused in its thrashing. Instead, it rose with a shiver and a shake, its baleful eyes swirling with terrifying dark power. Pure hatred and malice fell upon Cadence. She refused to flinch, standing her ground and even digging her hooves into the shattered pavement. Her wings flared and she displayed herself in all her immortal glory. It was indeed Sombra’s presence she felt, though it was twisted from being part of the raging spirit. There was indeed the rage; the hate, but there was also pain. Immeasurable, confusing pain.

“You poor thing,” she whispered despite herself. This was the soul of one of the most horrible, twisted and evil ponies in the history of the world, crammed through the most foul of magics into the body of a fel spirit beast. Cadence found herself wondering if her son had held the soul of Sombra for the past ten years. What Zeala had done to him was monstrous and unthinkable. The anger Chrysanthemum had exuded as she felt Reign Cloud’s pain had seared into the alicorn’s heart. “You were used, just as my son was.”

A thrumming growl rolled from deep within the Windigo’s throat, its jaws parting just enough for a frosted exhale to wash over the alicorn’s form.

“Cadenza!” the changeling queen shrieked, surging towards the alicorn.

“Stay back!” roared Cadence from within the blizzard. “Sombra! I am Love Incarnate! You cannot defeat me! No amount of hate, no wave of anger can defeat me! Let me help you! I can feel your pain, Sombra! Will you let me help you?”

The Windigo snapped off its breath, its jaws clashing together with an ear-piercingbleeding clash. Shaking its head, the beast reared back and away from Cadence. The frosted air around her swirled as her wings beat through the swirl. Resolution was her visage and she wore it with determination. The Windigo—who could no doubt indeed be the fallen king—opened its maw and shrieked into the night sky. Above, the air shimmered. Incoming magic festooned the air as the Sun and the Moon arrived. More and more magic crackled in the air as intentions were made clear.

The voice of Celestia fought over the cries of the Windigo, “Cadence! We have come!”

“Stand fast, dear niece!” Luna’s words were steeled comfort. “We will aid if you so desire!”

“Help my ponies!” Cadence called out to them. “Get them to safety! I can deal with this!”

Having already sensed the arrival of the sisters, the Windigo was whirling to face them. A blast of wind riding snow sheared into them. Luna was able to avoid the attack. Celestia took the brunt of it, her mane and tail flaring like the dancing flames of the sun. Steam billowed around her for a moment, only to be swept away from her and back into ice. Her eyes loitered, found Chrysanthemum behind Cadence, and narrowed. Nodding, the Alicorn of the Day churned her powerful wings and followed after her sister.

“Sombra! Please!” Cadence lifted herself into the air on her wings. Chrysanthemum followed, but at a safe distance.

“You can’t reason with madness!” the changeling screeched after the alicorn.

As if to stress the queen’s point, the Windigo dove at the princess, the full fury of its unholy winter in tow. A new wave of cold struck, making the air dry to the point of making breathing painful. The eyes of the beast swelled with power, the purple tendrils now dripping like living malice. Cadence paused in her advance, her eyes going wide. Pumping her wings with fury, she backpedaled in midair, her horn charging in preparation to release a spell.

There was only one way to end this, to put a twisted soul to rest.

The princess closed her eyes. Cadence reached out to the Crystal Heart, her horn growing brighter. She thought of the love she had for her husband, her son, Maggie, the daughter she never had, the daughter she would have, Wilda, the friend who proved changelings could be every bit as good as ponies. The princess thought of the ponies and the changelings who looked up to her and her husband to protect them, the love they had for her. She remembered the community which had bonded, surpassing the many goals the pink pony princess had pushed for every year in making her home just a little bit better than the last.

Love. She had built and rebuilt her kingdom on the principles of love.

She felt the life within her, the one Reign had discovered. Despite the cold around her, Cadence was warm and felt nothing but the love her city had not only for her, but for itself. The glow at the tip of her horn grew brighter, surpassing the sun and creating her own day in the middle of the frozen night. The crystalline buildings reflected her light, the magic surging through her body. Perfect calm filled her heart and her mind was made clear. Her eyes blazed with white light, falling upon the raging Windigo.

Sombra. King Sombra. Poor, twisted soul. The new life was unwelcome and caused nothing but pain. Cadence pitied both the creature and the soul within it, knowing there was only one way to end the ceaseless pain. There was only one place for such a black and evil soul. Cadence was pained to do this, to send him back. Perhaps there was a chance?

Time slowed for the alicorn.

Chrysanthemum was near and she was shouting. Her words were drowned out by the confusing din around her. A storm of magic raged as dark power clashed with light. Cadence reached out to the changeling and found a ruined womb. Dark magic had played its role long ago. She felt in the most brief of touches the attempts to heal, the failures. The queen’s despair was an echo as she had come to terms with her scarring, but it lingered. There was also the crushing rejection still on her mind. Reign Cloud had pushed her away, but the love was still there. Resignation resonated from within the changeling queen. Chrysalis—Chrysanthemum— had a broken heart, but she loved her son, it was unquestioning. She had sacrificed much and the sting of rejection had seared through her.

Cadence withdrew herself, focusing instead on Sombra the Windigo.

Yes, he raged, his mind broken and a shell of its once formidable will. No, Zeala had tried to bring back her love and had botched it in the most horrifying way. Her love had been twisted, bent beyond the point of madness. Her thirst for vengeance had done this as she had delved into such mystics that proved to indeed be beyond her magical talents. Love could be twisted, turned into something that was obsession. Love was indeed powerful and could be abused with little provocation. Zeala might have always been a monster in her own right, but there had been too many stories of the good she had once done during her time as Sombra’s consort. She had protected her changelings as much as she could from her lord’s cruelty. At some point, she stopped, becoming a part of his madness.

Cadence understood this was a lost love gone wrong in the worst of ways. There was much she still was not certain of herself, but she had the gist.

Thus, she pitied Sombra, or what was left of him.

Opening her eyes, she found the Windigo was almost on top of her, its head reaching forward, maw wide open with its jagged teeth gleaming. The eyes were filled with dreadful intent. The cold could not touch her and she was not afraid.

With sadness, she cried, “Begone!” and released the full power of the Crystal Heart from her horn and down the throat of Sombra’s Windigo. Tears fell as her heart wrenched. “Begone!” she cried again as the blow stopped the monster in its tracks.

Eyes wide, the Windigo, what was Sombra, froze, held fast by Cadence’s magic. The monster’s form went bright, outlined with cracks along its length. The fury of the winter storm sputtered, the swirling winds losing direction.

“Begone!” Cadence cried a third time. Her voice dropped to a hopeful whisper, “Come back as a good pony,” she wished. With a final surge of love, she finished her task.

In one last flash of brilliant light, the Windigo was no more.

Author's Note

My deepest, sincerest apologies in how long it took to get this chapter out. It suffered through several rewrites, both physical and mental. I wanted to present Cadence as power without needing to project herself.

Love is dangerous when left uncontrolled. It is one of the most powerful emotions we have, if not the most. I wanted to convey that without making our favorite pink alicorn feel overpowered. She is essentially a goddess still coming into her own, but she understands love in all its forms. This is what makes her formidable, even unbeatable under certain circumstances. The last chapter was a showcase of the fury of the changeling queen.

This chapter was a showcase of love and understanding.

I hope I pulled it off right.

One chapter remains...

Thank you all so very much for sticking through with this story. It is a struggle to finish what one starts and seeing the finish is both exhilarating and sad.

Epilogue

Edited by TuxOKC

Queen Chrysanthemum sat tall and proud upon her obsidian throne. Its crooked form was imposing, the polished stone gleaming in the fae light. The citadel that was her home still bore the scars of the civil war. It sat upon a mesa overlooking a sprawling floodplain. Jagged mountain peaks jutted along the western horizon. The magically preserved heads of her enemies decorated the parapets.

As she sat, parchments and scrolls floated at eye level. They were arranged in the air so she might scan them at a glance. Next to her a scribe was reading back to her one of the many reports filled with bad news. Rebuilding her kingdom had been a slow and painful process. Riots were not uncommon. Food was scarce. Bandits were attacking caravans. More and more soldiers were being sent to watch the main trading routes. Neighboring kingdoms were becoming inquisitive. This meant more soldiers were needed to mind the border.

The scribe was going into the boring details of yet another hive community in need of supplies. War had a funny habit of ruining farmer’s fields. It was going to take years to pull the kingdom out from its famine.

“Enough,” she commanded, flicking her gaze over the paper before her. It was all the same. “Give these to the appropriate changelings to have these issues addressed. Order them by urgency.” Gathering them into a neat stack, she floated them over to another ink spotted scribe. “Is there anything else? And do not give me anymore bad news. There has been nothing but bad news every day.”

“Ah, I think I might have something, Your Majesty,” said the scribe. She dug into the large stack of scrolls at her side. “Another letter from the Crystal Empire. It bears the Royal Seal and a second seal. It arrived just today.”

“I have no interest in what Cadenza has to say,” huffed Chrysanthemum. She paused, blinking her eye as she chewed on the inside of her cheek. “Wait. A second seal?”

“Yes, ma’am. It bears a new seal. The mark is a tree with the letters RC over it.”

“Give it to me,” she demanded, her horn flaring. The changeling felt a taste of her power as she overwhelmed his own magical grip. “Leave me.”

The scribes scurried from the throne room without further word. The guards standing at the double doors pulled them closed. The booming sound echoed through the throne room. Chrysanthemum considered the letter in her grasp. For a long while, she tapped it against her chin, wondering what words lurked within.

Breaking both seals, the queen unfurled the parchment, noting its unique quality. She could smell the ink. Smiling despite herself, she began reading.

Dear Queen Chrysanthemum,

You have been invited to the 11th birthday of Crown Prince Reign Cloud. Join the Crystal Empire as we celebrate his special day and look forward to the promise of many, many more. You are not required to bring a gift. If you choose to bring one, keep in mind it will be given to the less fortunate. The Prince has asked that all gifts be intended to give aid and comfort to those who have lost homes and/or family last year. The healing starts with helping those in need. Thank you!

You have a special reservation awaiting you and accommodations will be provided. Please let us know how many of your court will be joining you. There will be a limit set at fifty. You are allowed twenty personal guard.

Prince Reign Cloud is anxious to know if you will be coming. He is hoping to meet with you. Please respond as soon as it is convenient for you.

Mi Amore Cadenza, Empress of the Crystal Empire

Beneath the eloquent script of Cadenza’s hornwriting was writing that was not hers. The scrawl was foalish, she felt, and her heart caught itself in her throat.

Please come. I don’t want to regrit not taking the chance to get to know you. Please come to my birthday. Momma says you do love me. I was mean to you. I am sorry. I was afraid of you and thoght you were going to take me away from Momma and Poppa. Please come to my birthday. I think it wold be nice to get to know you. Don’t you think so?

Cinserely, Prince Reign Cloud

The queen’s sour mood vanished. She ran a loving hoof over her son’s words, taking note of the errors and finding them endearing. Glancing at one of the scribe’s tables, she took up an inkwell with a quill. She fished out a blank sheet of her best parchment and made a reply worthy of her son.

To My Little Morsel,

I am both flattered and honored to be invited to partake in your birthday celebration. I will come.

Forever Yours,

Chrysanthemum Regina

Her horn flared. “Fang!” she bellowed in a voice that shook the walls. A shadowed corner shimmered. Her faithful guard appeared. “Send this letter, assemble my personal guard, find a local toymaker and buy whatever he has, get me my dressmaker, pick out a competent group from my court to go to the Crystal Empire, and get me a drink!”

“As you command!” Fang half turned before pausing, a confused expression on his face, “Ah, what for?”

Chrysanthemum thought of what day of the month it was. Ticking off the days in her head, she considered how much time there was until Reign’s birthday. Three weeks and a day, she mulled to herself. “My son has invited me to his birthday. I will be going.”

His eyes brightened. “I’ll get right on everything, My Queen!”

Queen Chrysanthemum buzzed her wings. “Summon my court at once! My son’s birthday is going to be just perfect!”

Author's Note

Thus ends this tale, my friends. I hope you enjoyed the ride! I don't know if I want to do a sequel, giving how long it took to write this one.

We'll see.

1. Sanctuary

Edited by shadowblades.

A dark figure slid through the shadows with sure, silent steps, her hooves seemingly brushing the ground with the barest of scrapes. The light of Luna’s moon cascaded softly upon the sleeping city in a light glow. The stars twinkled in the night sky above. The great half-spherical barrier keeping the perpetual winter at bay shimmered faintly, giving the sky a translucent glow of violet light. The guarded figure stopped every once in a while to check on the small bundle strapped to her back in a crude, makeshift saddle. With her followed three smaller figures, each one as deft and nimble as she. Often did her gaze linger to the great spires of the citadel rising up as if to reach for the moon. It had once been the home of a tyrant; a true monster.

The mare in the shadows was well concealed, her gossamer wings and crooked horn suggesting she was not exactly a typical pony. No words were uttered between the quartet as the three smaller figures bore shapes akin to her. The bundle on her back moved and a tiny little voice began to fuss—he was waking up. Darting into a place where the shadows were darkest, the mare bade her entourage to take up positions of overwatch with a sharp, low hiss while she tended to the precious hope she carried. A gentle glow of unearthly green flared along the length of her horn and the bundle was lifted with the greatest of care. The mare shifted herself as comfortable as her nerves would allow and smiled through her fangs at the little creature staring right back up at her. The precious bundle was wrapped in a thick, warm blanket. Deep blue eyes searched about sleepily, glowing softly with pure innocence. A curious mix of yellow-gray chitin and fur blended with each other, smooth and soft, yet velvety to the touch. A tuft of orange mane poked out from between his ears, nestling deep within the folds of his blanket. Soon he would be weaned and needing solid food instead of the pure diet of love from his mother. Upon seeing his mother’s face, he smiled, his tiny hooves reaching for her. She complied, giving him a nuzzle, feeling his hooves brush over her snout and cheeks as he giggled into her chitin. As she held him, she also fed him, pouring out her heart to which he greedily accepted. It was also imperative she keep him silent and shushed him with a gentle nudge of soothing magic to still his vocal chords, coaxing him to focus on his feeding. She had enough this time, though she herself was drained and had been so for a while. There had been no time to feed on emotions, nor time to eat something more conventional. Why, the last apple she had eaten had been two days ago! It had been even longer since she found enough love to replenish her magic.

It was clear this was her child, her son, her little colt. It was also quite clear he was not exactly a full nymph—there was pony in his blood. His tiny wings were not like hers; they bore tiny little feathers. Nor was there a nub of a horn in the middle of his forehead. No, he was a half breed, the blessing, or curse, of mixing the blood of a changeling and a pony. Try as she might, the mare knew she could not hope to protect him from those who would rather see him dead.

As she fed her son, her thoughts flickered to past events, how they fell upon each other in a series of disasters until she had been forced to this most painful of decisions. She would have to fight for him, but also as far from them as possible. Those hunting her wanted her newborn. Again, her gaze lingered to the spires of the crystal fortress. Even in the moonlight, the gleam of beauty most often seen in the rays of the sun could be seen, even felt. Most important of all was the Crystal Heart, the ancient artifact which generated love and protected the city’s inhabitants from most evil things. The mare was drawn to it, as were her three companions. The want to feed was strong in them. It had been a while since they had last replenished their always diminishing stores.

Such was the life of a changeling; to feed upon the strongest of emotions, yet never be completely satisfied. Certainly, other more conventional foods could sustain a changeling’s diet, but an emotion like love was essential for a healthy life and access to their innate magical abilities. Without a store of emotion, they could produce no magic. There was always the gaping void within, always hungry for more, never satiated.

Never before had she thought she would be in this position, to be forced to relinquish her power, to flee from those who she had once regarded as her subjects. No egg had been lain, but she instead bore her son live and with great discomfort. Try as she might, the cruelty of a live birth gave her a newfound respect for the ponies who endured the process.

The changeling was drained of energy. Her reserves from her last feeding had been paltry to begin with. Life on the run had given her little opportunity to replenish. Since the kingdom had splintered, she had been the prey of those who would usurp her position and take what had been hers for centuries. Such was the life of a changeling queen. If weakness was perceived, then other would-be queens from their clannish hives would emerge and challenge her for control of her kingdom. Usurpers, the lot of them! Even other queens from other kingdoms might catch wind of a struggling kingdom and move to absorb territory and changelings into their own fold. The uproar of the past year had been confusing, messy, and impossible to guess a winner to this point.

There was a hiss from one of the guards. They were still being followed. In a society where silence and stealth meant survival, there was little needed to be done or said to communicate, even urgently.

She ceased feeding her son, smiling down at the little foal as he returned the gesture. Big trusting eyes met hers own exhausted gaze. To break the connection she was wont to do. Yet she found her eyes flicking to her subordinate, her head swiveling slightly as she nodded once in agreement.

Yes, she sensed them. Apparently the permanent snow storm beyond the dome is not enough to deter them. The Queen wanted her guards to leave her. Too many had given their lives in protecting her to this point.

Such a thing would be impossible. They could no more abandon her as they could abandon themselves. The oaths had been made in blood and bound by magic. They were hers unto death and could not leave her even if the mere thought crossed their minds. The Queen found herself regretting the thought as the weight of the lives lost in her name haunted the back of her mind and prowled her dreams when she stumbled across sleep.

The Queen nuzzled her youngster again, flicking her tongue through his mane to soothe him to sleep. There was always a trick to making nymphs sleep when a mother needed them to be still. She sighed, placing her son upon her back and safely on the make-shift saddle. Certain he was secure and warm, she regarded her loyal changeling neutrally. Being just fed, her son would not stir from his slumber for a good while, should luck hold. A glance of gratefulness, passing and as brief as the bat of an eye was all that was needed. The guard’s eyes were filled with pride at the token gesture. The others felt his pride and shared in it, their love for their queen unshakable.

Loyal to the end.

They would stay. Not even Cerberus could pull them from their queen.

In the distance, near her eventual goal, the sound of bells pealed into the early morning. The sun would be up within the hour. Celestia would grace the land with her presence. The changeling queen cocked her head to one side, considering a time when she nearly overpowered a goddess. Oh, how the power of love had made her overconfident! On the cusp of victory, she was denied and the love she sought for herself and her changelings was turned upon her. Five years of work undone by one oversight.

She shook away those bitter memories, lucky indeed she herself had escaped with a few scars and a slight limp to her back left leg. She relented. The mare tasted the air with her nostrils. Her long ears went flat. They needed to change forms, assume disguises.

Without question, the three dropped near her, their forms sheathed in green fire as their dark forms shifted. As the Crystal Empire was inhabited by Crystal ponies, it was easy to assume the odd crystalline earth pony forms. Such a choice was not exactly wise, as most of the local ponies knew each other in one way or another. With the influx of visitors from the south, it made more sense to appear as a tourist than anything else. Families often journeyed to the Crystal Empire and the recently freed inhabitants were more often than not eager to meet friendly faces from the nation that had freed them.

They would have assumed other forms earlier, but the lack of energy to hold them forced the changelings to keep to the shadows. The chase had worn them to their bones, though none would admit to weakness. They carried themselves proudly and with purpose. Their goal lay in sight, but their foes were closing in on them.

Hope lay with Princess Mi Amore Cadenza and her husband the Prince Consort Shining Armor. The irony of the situation was not lost on the fallen queen, but there was little choice left to her at this point. All of her allies had all but abandoned her, all because of the little halfling sleeping between her wings. No mother worth a grain of salt would forsake her own flesh and blood. This particular mother was no different, even going above and beyond the point where most mares would see the wall of futility before them and give in.

A soft hiss, a warning reached her ears. The pseudo ponies moved as one out from the alley and into the quiet street. The lit lamps along the street bathed them in ruddy light, torches of magic fueled by the Crystal Heart. It seemed everything about this city ran on positive emotions. Why a tyrant like Sombra would have wanted it remained a mystery to all but the Royal Sisters. The crystalline homes and shops were beautiful. The city was beautiful, perhaps one of the most wonderous of wonders in all the world even after a thousand years hidden from it. But, there was no time to enjoy it.

Through the silence of the night, the hunters drew ever nearer to their prey.

One of the changelings hung back, assuming the form of a generic unicorn with no discerning features. Just an average unicorn, like any who had come to live in the ancient city. Attuned to watching for the barest of hints of pursuit, he was fully aware the silence around him was as deadly as a ravenous pack of Timberwolves. The only sound to be made was those of hooves striking the cobblestone street.

They passed a patrol of four Crystal Guard, but made no attempt to contact them, nor warn them. Revealing themselves here was too risky. The reaction from ponies would no doubt be less than understanding when changelings would suddenly appear before them. They were watched, but upon seeing a sleeping foal on the back of a smiling mare, they let the four pass without a second glance.

The bells beckoned them, drawing them nearer. Perhaps if they could find sanctuary within the House of Celestia, or even the House of Luna (which was preferred), the nuns within would take them without question. No other ponies could claim to uphold the beliefs of Friendship and Harmony more than those who worshipped the goddesses of the sun and the moon. Through them they would reach out for help. From within the sanctuary and hallowed grounds of Equestria’s religions did the changelings hope to garner enough pause to be heard.

Several minutes passed uneasily for the small group. The foal slept on, completely unaware of the threat.

The attack came from the shadows, two dark forms leaping out as silent demons. Fangs glistened in the light of the moon for a flash of a moment. The queen shied away from the attack, immediately giving herself distance and assuming a posture to protect her son. One of her protectors darted, taking the nearest attacker in a headlong tackle. Both tumbled onto the street, hissing furiously at each other as the second attacker leaped over them and at the changeling queen.

She reared, lashing out with her hooves, snarling. The smaller assailant took a glancing blow to the side of his head and was knocked off the intended target of her throat. Instead, he crashed into her chest, staggering her backwards as his fangs found her skin and bit through. Her form flickered, failing. Her son suddenly wailed in fright as he was jolted awake. Rearing again, the queen struck down the attacking changeling as he tried to rise to his hooves. Her powerful strikes struck again and again and he went down in a bloody heap, twitching.

Her changeling magic failed her as her reserves weren’t enough to maintain the form. Green fire washed over her body and the queen was suddenly exposed in the middle of the street with a dead changeling at her feet and a wailing foal on her back. Hissing angrily, she spun as her ears caught the sound of buzzing wings behind her, just in time to catch a pair of glowing compound eyes closing in on her with grim purpose. She gave a hard toss of her head, her crooked horn suddenly a jagged weapon. It pierced and tore through this new attacker’s throat, causing him to gurgle and choke as his life suddenly was bleeding away. Blood plastered her mane and face.

Her foal, very much frightened, cried louder. One of the queen’s guards was at her side, ushering her to safety as the other two defended against superior numbers. The number of attackers was still unknown, but such small groups were common, as they set about to wearing down their targets instead of using overwhelming numbers, especially in heavily populated areas. Assassin teams usually numbered at most a dozen, usually led by a Royal. They would gladly kill her child and take her head home as a proud display for whomever they served. Three lay on the ground. None of them would ever move again.

One of her guards was limping badly, but wore a grim smile as his opponent had gotten the worse of the encounter. His disguise still held true. All three of them were around her, ushering her to onwards. They knew what was expected of them. The love for their queen drove them onwards, encouraged her. None even looked towards the wailing foal even as she gave him a reassuring coo. Around them lights flicked on in windows as the commotion outside had awoken some of the inhabitants.

Into the shadows they disappeared, taking another darkened alley. Three dark forms lay upon the cobblestones in their wake.

Several blocks over, the bells of the temple could still be heard. They invited the queen even as she settled her child down, ignoring the wound in her chest. She had experienced worse in her lifetime. Still, one of the guards administered aid with a bit of his magic, enough to staunch the flow of blood. All four were breathing heavily. They were already exhausted.

Without a word, they pressed on as soon as the foal had settled down. The queen’s magic was all but gone and already there was a commotion behind them. The bodies had been found. Cries for the guard drifted into the predawn sky. One of the guards darted ahead, taking to the sky as he shed his disguise. The insectoid buzz of his wings faded. The other three hurried along, the queen needing support. She was sore and hurt more than she would admit. The two remaining guards pressed against her sides and kept her up as she suddenly found her legs unable to bear her weight. Still, she could not afford to stop moving. Her contact awaited her and hopefully a safe place for her son.

A priestess awaited them at the temple. She was known to the queen, an old friend as far as such relationships went for changelings. Having been loyal to her family line for generations, the current priestess’ own bloodline had served and served well. The queen remembered this one well, having grown up with this city’s priestess. Changeling priestesses were their own caste and were considered separate from the Royals. Tradition dictated they were the bridge between the common changeling and the more powerful noble caste. Their origins were mysterious, though the common belief was they were a throwback to the ancient changelings. Purity of spirit, wholeness of being, worshippers of love. The teachings were passed down from teacher to student. Ancient scrolls written in a language only known to those of the Religious caste carried the core values and beliefs of ancient queens long lost to the fog of history.

The queen huffed, disgruntled she had to rely on others to keep moving. Her thoughts to the priestess drifted off as she focused on the simple task of putting one hoof in front of the other. The second attack came and quickly.

Bolts of green energy struck first the guard on her left, then the one on her right. Both cried out in pain, blasted several feet behind her. She dug deep into her reserves, her horn flaring up as slitted eyes flashed and rapidly drew nearer. Somehow, she managed to sidestep the next blast of magic, hissing in pain from the effort. A snarl escaped her lips as she replied in kind, blasting the attacker squarely in the chest and straight through his body. He went limp and was dead before he struck the ground. Through sheer will and stubborn pride she somehow remained on her hooves, gritting her fangs as sweat began to bead her body. Something was tossed at her hooves. Instinctively she jumped back and noted with a growl the details.

It was her guard’s severed head.

A voice laughed, low and from the shadows before her. “Such is the fate of those who choose to follow a fallen queen.”

“What is your name, assassin?!” demanded the queen as she stood tall and defiantly. Her son squirmed on her back, fussing again.

“You will know me as your demise,” came the reply.

“Perhaps,” the queen told herself, stepping forward boldly. Her cerulean eyes darted from side to side, her fangs bared as her tail swished in her wake. The changeling’s magic reserves were nearly depleted and her soul screamed at the lack of energy. She needed to feed on emotions if she hoped to be able to cast the simplest of spells. Two, perhaps three more bolts of magic was in her before it failed her completely. Her empty stomach screamed for solid food. It had been several days since her last proper meal. Focus was difficult to come by.

The bells continued to peal, beckoning her still. Should she make it to her destination, even her enemies would have to respect Sanctuary. Her wings strummed as she simply threw caution to the wind and took flight. The exertion taxed her greatly, but she was no longer concerned for her own safety. Her son wailed again.

From the ground and between buildings came more bolts of magic. The queen darted from left to right, but there were too many. The lights flashed, bathing her with glows of lethal potential. One struck her fair and square in the belly, and she fell. Pain shot through her like a hundred daggers stabbing at her insides. She bit back a cry of pain, nearly losing her foal. Desperately, she tried to make sure he was safe. Cries of fright filled her ears and the relief washed over her despite the pain. Unwanted spasms wracked her tortured body. Flecks of her own blood began to rain on the streets below.

Three more changelings emerged from below. Fangs flashed in the light of the moon. The queen turned to face them, but she felt so sluggish. Breathing was difficult for her suddenly. Something was terribly wrong with her insides. Summoning up her will, she blasted the nearest attacker with vengeance, disintegrating him. The queen gasped from the effort, nearly falling. It was as though her head threatened to burst into flames. The killing blow had overtaxed her, forcing wave after wave of agony through her frame as her magic tapped directly into her life force from using too much power.

High above she heard the distinct sound of feathered wings. Pegasi! The Guard! Where were her own protectors? Fallen?

“Halt!” came a cry.

The other two changelings saw a flight of Royal Guards dive down upon them. Hissing in rage, they scattered, their wings carrying them with an agility few pegasi could hope to match. The queen ignored them, focusing on getting to her destination. She held her son to her chest with her forehooves. “Shh, mommy’s here..,” she whispered into his tiny ears.

“Halt!” came the command, much nearer now.

She could see the spires! How did they suddenly get there so quickly? The temple had to be to Celestia, as a bronze sun was set dramatically upon the highest point. It was new, having been built recently, she observed with a detachedness. Slowly the sensation of numbness was overcoming her, but she could not give up—she was so close!

Her destination lay before her, hope and sanctuary! They would not touch her on hallowed ground! The great doors swung open as she began to drop, staying focused. The priestess had told her the nuns had allowed changelings to come there for protection. The marbled steps were tantalizingly close. She could hear the wingbeats of the pegasi.

Her hooves touched ground and she stumbled, her weakened rear legs unable to hold her weight. A grunt escaped her lips and she groaned in agony as she toppled forward, her mane flying in all directions. She rolled to her shoulder and skidded to the massive doors of the temple.

“Sanctuary!” she cried hoarsely. “For the love of all that’s holy, Sanctuary!” Her words tumbled and fell from her throat, some barely intelligible.

Her foal cried. It was a happy sound to her ears. She looked down at him as panic drove her to think he was hurt. The sound of hooves striking stone sounded behind her. She didn’t care. She was on holy ground. The doors swung open and a robed figure peered out blearily into the predawn morning.

“Who goes there?” an old voice demanded. The speaker was an old unicorn, dressed in simple robes of gold trimmed white. “A changeling? What is this?”

“Sanctuary, damn you,” hissed the queen. “Not for me, for my son!”

“Who are you?” demanded the pony. It was difficult to tell what kind of pony, but it sounded like a stallion. “What manner of child is that? Bah! No time for such talk! You are wounded!”

“Step away from the changeling!” ordered a stern voice.

“She has asked for Sanctuary and she obviously needs immediate medical care,” snapped the old stallion. He turned back into the sanctum of the temple. “Fetch me the sisters! Have them bring the medical kit!”

“Prince Shining Armor will hear of this!”

“Then do not let me from detaining you from your duties, my son,” said the elderly priest. He emerged from the temple fully and knelt next to the queen. “Your kind are welcome here. There is a chapter house on these grounds for your kind. Sanctuary is granted.”

Two small unicorn mares emerged, looking about with confused expressions as they eyed the guard, then the pseudo-pony lying on the steps of the temple. There was green...blood? everywhere.

“Sweet Celestia, she’s wounded!”

“Cha-cha-changelings,” hissed the queen. Hooves reached into her field of view for her child. “No! Mine!” she cried, drawing him nearer to her chest. “No assassins will take my child.” Her horn flared, but sparked uselessly.

“It’s a colt,” noted one of the nuns. “Aww, he’s cute!” she cooed, mostly for the benefit of the mother.

“My baby,” insisted the changeling mother.

“Of course, of course!”

The foal was taken away and she tried to reach for him. “No!”

“Get them inside. Be quick!” insisted the priest.

“Yes, Father. Shall we tell the High Priestess?”

“She is a changeling. It would be prudent to inform a changeling priestess one of her kind is bleeding on our doorstep. Send one of your sisters!”

The guard had all but been forgotten. “But she’s a changeling! She’s a hostile! There was a battle in our streets!”

As the wounded queen was carried inside, the robed stallion eyed the confused pegasus with a calculating glare. “Why don’t you go get the changelings that did this to her? I’m sure they’re getting away right now while you’re trying to arrest one that’s bleeding to death.”

“But—”

“My son, she is not going anywhere. She is in no condition to flee. Why don’t you inform your superiors she is here. While you’re at it, see about apprehending those responsible for doing harm to a mother. They were after her because of her foal. Halflings are considered abominations. Go with Celestia’s Light, my child!” With that, he slammed the door shut in the stammering pegasus’ face.

The vaulted ceiling of the inner sanctum carried the echo of rapid hoofsteps as the nuns carried their unexpected patient towards the back of the temple. A series of smaller rooms eventually gave way to a small courtyard garden. A fountain bearing the benevolently smiling statue of Princess Celestia seemed to watch them as they passed by. A third mare joined them, this one dressed in black robes. She was taller than even the priest. Her crooked horn jutted ahead of her cowl.

“So, she did come,” her layered voice observed wryly.

The stallion stopped dead in his tracks. “You knew?”

“I suspected, Father.” Her smile was wan. “Ever since her failure at Canterlot, she has had no kingdom. You know this.”

The older pony shivered. “So, she’s the one? She is the queen who took Princess Mi Amore Cadenza’s place?”

She nodded solemnly. “Indeed. The very princess who gave changelings a home here in the fabled crystal city. The very ruler of this land who granted me permission to eventually have a temple for changelings to call their own. Truly she is the Princess of Love.”

“Remarkable,” noted the priest as he raised his eyebrows. “She must be notified.”

“Indeed. I would be more than happy to relay this information to the palace on your behalf.” The tall changeling priestess smiled warmly. It was a smile that never seemed right on her visage. It had to be those fangs, the Father surmised.

“Lady Zeala, I could not ask you do shirk your own morning rituals. Perhaps you might know of changeling magics? Perhaps you might be able to heal this mother and perhaps you can see to the health of her wee foal?”

She slid alongside him smoothly as he continued his journey, trailing after his guest. As his hooves moved with a slow and even pace, she glided along with the stride of a dancer. “It is no trouble at all. I suspect the small one to be the offspring of Prince Armor.”

Wide old eyes spun on her in disbelief. “Don’t say such a thing!” he hissed louder than he meant. “It would break the princess’ heart!”

Zeala smirked. “Is that an assumption, my friend? Can you claim to know our ruler?”

He scowled, turning his attention to the path leading towards the temple ground hospital. It was a small facility, modern and the most recent addition to the religious sector of the city. Already it was springing to life as word of the unexpected guests spread like wildfire. Above, the sound of winged ponies passed as the number of guards were noticeably higher. “No, I cannot imagine her reacting in such a manner. It will hurt her, but she’s long since forgiven her husband for events beyond his control. I simply cannot believe…” He snorted, shaking his head. “There will need to be verification—a test. There must be no doubt. Leave nothing to chance.”

A young earth pony monk in brown robes was staring after the bloody form being carried. “What is going on, Father?” he asked the old stallion as he strolled by. “Father Sun Cloud?”

“Clarence, there you are, my boy!” The priest smiled at the colt. “Fetch me pen and parchment and a spell flame for transporting a letter. Be quick, boy! May Celestia guide you!” He shooed the youngster off with a gentle prodding of a hoof. Clarence scurried off, nodding eagerly as he hastened away.

The next ten minutes were frantic as the ward erupted with activity. The doctor had been roused the moment word of a wounded pony had reached the doorstep of his quarters. With a head full of bedmane, he stared in disbelief at the dark changeling form awaiting him on the gurney. She eyed him blearily, breathing raggedly. An ear swiveled, locking on him before flicking through a bought of pain. She was covered in blood. Her wounds were grievous, especially her stomach.

“Name of the patient?” he asked one of the nuns trying to keep a compress over the changeling’s ruined belly. The blood was green. “How odd,” he noted.

“She hasn’t said,” replied the mare. Her horn glowed a soft amber as she used her magic to keep the bandage in place. “Your nurses are on their way. I’ll stay until they relieve me.”

There was a grim nod. “That’ll have to do. What’s her pulse?” There was not much time left for the changeling in front of him, if any.

Author's Note

With this story, I would like to welcome shadowblades back as he more or less took over the editing without me even asking. What a nice guy! I want everyone to thank him for lending his considerable talents to this story to make sure I don't trip over my own words.

Anyways, this is my take on the SA/Chrysalis love child trope. Let's see if I can't put a different twist to it.

All comments and suggestions are welcome. I really don't know where I'm going to go with this. Inspiration struck and I went with it.

Edit 1: Made a slight change to the paragraph where the queen used the last of her magic to kill a would-be assassin.
Edit 2: Removed references to hives as they were supposed to be kingdoms. A hive are more like clan in this universe, with a changeling matriarch leading it.

10. Exposition

Author's Note

Unedited.

My editors do have lives beyond making sure I don't have typos or errors. This had been sitting for a week and I got impatient. My apologies to all affected.

So, until then...have a chapter! (point out da boo-boos!)

I'll have it fixed when my editors have the time to look over. Pinkie Promise!

10. Exposition

Reign Cloud was dressed in a nice blue suit complete with a white silk shirt and a red silk bow tie. He stood at the front of a line, his mother and father on each side of him. His mane had been combed for a goodly while by Cadence, slicked down repeatedly. The locks on his head were stubborn and it took a lot of gel to keep them tamed. A strand or two resisted, poking up like an obscene gesture. It irked Cadence to no end. His father kept grinning at his mother’s efforts to do battle until even her eternal patience was worn to an exasperated declaration of “It will have to do!”.

It was this day and what was expected from him when led him to forget yesterday was his actual birthday. Today the kingdom would celebrate and it had him anxious. In the few times he had been in public, he lost his temper each time. Usually it was because of some rude comment he overheard, or somepony made a disparaging remark about his appearance.

It was always an adult he went off on. Cadence had stressed greatly him giving colts and fillies his age the benefit of the doubt. He had been around few colts and fillies in his young life, mostly because Cadence and Shining Armor feared his weak physical body would not hold well against the frolicking antics of the typical, playful foal. As it was, any interaction with foals the same age as Reign Cloud was strictly monitored and with a lot of restrictions.

This meant greeters politely reminding parents to keep their foals on their best behavior when they met the prince. They were watched carefully and foals thought to be overly rambunctious were steered away from Reign.

They were outside, the grounds beneath the castle set up in a banquet hall fashion, with tables set up neatly. Colorful balloons and streamers added to the festive mood. There were colts and fillies everywhere of all ages, laughing and shouting with each other. Cake and ice cream was given freely out by the kitchen staff.

There were hundreds of foals enjoying themselves. A live band played music, even encouraging singalongs for the younger foals. Clowns —Reign Cloud’s least favorite form of entertainment— roamed among the crowd, making funny faces, telling jokes, and making balloon animals. They stayed away from the prince. He tended to splay his ears out and hiss like a wet cat if they strayed too close to him. If such an event occurred, Cadence would chastise him gently or tease him a bit.

Wistfully he looked over at the carnival rides he could make out rising above some of the buildings. There was the ferris wheel, flying scooters, a gravitron, a pendulum and a few other rides Reign couldn’t name off the top of his head. Why couldn’t he enjoy those rides?

Maggie —dressed in a simple pink party dress— gave him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. “Aw, don’t be grumpy,” she said consolingly. “If it makes you feel any better, I can’t go on the rides, either.”

This was true, as she was forbidden from leaving his side if he did go outside.

There were dignitaries from other nations who came to offer their well-wishes to the prince, though they were more inclined towards looking good in the eyes of Princess Cadence. Celestia and Luna showed up and it took every ounce of Reign’s willpower to keep from running to them and leaping into their hooves. He adored his aunts. The announcement to his mother as she helped get him ready for the party nearly had the colt leaping from his chair. Maggie simply laughed at him.

They sat to his left, speaking to the recently arrived griffon ambassador. He was an older fellow; stiff, formal and very dull and boring. It had only been a week since the griffons opened their borders partially to the world. The past decade it was rumored they had endured a massive internal upheaval, perhaps even civil war. The tales from the few refugees able to cross over the border suggested it was an internal struggle against a foe who was not interested in fighting griffons.

Before he could satiate his curiosity and listen in, Celestia and Luna rose from the table they were seated at and asked the ambassador to join them. Cadence gave them a pensive look, then turned to Shining Armor.

“Can you keep the party civil?” she asked him, batting her eyelashes. “I need to see what this is about.”

“Can I go?” Reign blurted.

Maggie was staring at the griffon hard. “Hmm.”

Shining looked at him. “No, son. This is a state matter. You need to stay here and be seen and greet the ponies. You’re the host and you need to be a good one.”

“But this is boring!” he protested. “I hate clowns! There’s one named Pennywise out there!.”

“Balloons float,” Maggie moaned with a grin. Reign shot her an ugly glare.

“Don’t you two start,” chided Shining, rolling his eyes with a sigh. “You’ll both stay here with me. Reign, you’re the guest of honor and it would be rude if you up and left. A part of being in a position of authority, no matter how small, means you have to do the things asked of you in order to make a good impression on other ponies. Keep in mind, there are visitors from other nations here and you need to look and act your best. Remember those exercises your mother taught you to keep that temper of yours in check.”

Reign sighed. “Yes, sir.” His ears splayed out flat and he slumped a bit.

Cadence gave him a nuzzle. “Don’t be like that, sweetie. I’ll tell what I can when your aunts are done speaking to the ambassador. Sit up straight, dear. Remember, there are eyes on you at all times in public.” She smiled and turned to her husband. “Can I leave you long enough to keep everything from bursting into flames?” she teased.

“No promises,” Shining replied with an absolutely straight face.

“I’ll make it worth your while,” she promised.

“I like where you’re going with this,” he said.

Reign blanched. “Gross!”

“I hope you’re taking notes, Reign,” Maggie said resolutely. “Lots and lots of notes.”

Both the adults chuckled as the colt gave her a look of horror.

“Hey, look!” Maggie cried out, pointing a hoof towards the crowd. “There’s Pennywise!”

Reign saw the clown. He shuddered. That happy face looked so creepy and fake. The white makeup was too much like the mask of a serial killer. The colt flinched, then glared again at the changeling filly. Beneath the clown face, there was probably nice pony, but that never mattered to Reign. Clowns were evil, plain and simple.

Cadence left and joined her aunts. Celestia and Luna both threw apologetic smiles to Reign Cloud. They would be with him at dinner. He had done little but get his hugs from them and he relished the few times they could visit.

Shining Armor smiled at his son. “Let’s go meet the guests,” he told Reign. “They’ve been lining up to thank you for the gifts you gave them. Let’s do your mother proud, okay?”

The young prince nodded and raised his head proudly.

The gifts his mother and father had selected to give to the foals of the Crystal Empire were simple, ranging from hoofballs to dolls. Most had been donated by the wealthier houses, some coming even as far as Canterlot. Celestia was quickly warmed to the idea of giving away toys on her grand nephew’s public birthday. Luna had suggested extending the gifting to the orphans in Canterlot. Both mares dug into their personal accounts and may have gone overboard in their enthusiasm. The enthusiasm was foisted over the wealthier ponies of the capital of Equestria with subtle hints and suggestions. Most were more than happy to contribute. Others, not quite so much.

Seven million bits later, Prince Blueblood was chiding his aunts for their wasteful spending from the deck of his third personal yacht. His protests were ignored.

With a nod to the smiling guards (they were told to look nice and pleasant with so many young foals running around), the line was opened and the procession of foals began. Most were accompanied by their parents. There was a press gallery to the right and flashbulbs flared, accompanied with their tell-tale popping sounds. Reign smiled as he had been instructed, looking proud, yet humble as the first foal came up. She was a little filly of about five and she held a little pony doll in her mouth as she stared up at him with huge, round eyes. Her mother accompanied her.

She mumbled something shyly when she was in front of her prince, cringing a little.

“She says thank you,” her mother offered helpfully.

Reign smiled. “You’re welcome. Enjoy your toy!”

The filly saw his fangs and burst into tears.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” cried the mother as she comforted the crying filly. “She’s never seen fangs before, except in those awful horror movies her father likes to watch!”

“Congratulations, Reigny,” chirped Maggie with a straight face. “You’re a horror movie monster!” Her mane bounced as she giggled.

Reign would have swished his stubby tail in irritation if he hadn’t been sitting on it. To the mare and her foal, he said, “Think nothing of it. Please go and enjoy the rest of the party. ” He cast a sidelong glance at his father. Shining gave a brief nod of approval and a wink to his son.

Reign did not see the sigh of relief after he turned his attention to the next foal. He ruffled his feathers and made sure they were properly in place before resuming the meet and greet. “Thank you for the toy” was followed with “Thank you for coming”. It worked out rather well, required nothing more than a smile and was quick. Most foals had the singular toy they had chosen. For the next hour, the procession continued. Reign Cloud endured it. Maggie was quiet for a change and only occasionally did his father have to say anything.

There was no platform, no dais. Reign was easy to access, though there were eyes watching everywhere. There were cordoned ropes guiding ponies to him and it was watched carefully by cheerful and helpful guards. The gallery consisted of the curious as well as the obvious media representatives. Some were happy with the sight of a young prince greeting his subjects. Others were waiting for his temper to flare. The more spectacular, the better.

Even though he was doing little more than sitting, Reign Cloud was beginning to become fatigued. It was evident as his shoulders began to slump and his wings trembled. He did his best though, knowing his father was watching him.

Shining Armor noted this and took steps, stepping forward after his son’s last greeting. “You did very well, Reign,” he said proudly. “Go and rest up some. Your mother will kill me if you fall out right here. Maggie, make sure he gets some fluids in him. I’ll take it from here.” Loudly he announced to the crowd, “That’s all for now! Prince Reign Cloud must rest. Please understand he would love nothing more than to greet each and every one of you. Unfortunately, his health won’t allow him to stay as long as he would like.”

There were some disappointed groans, the sounds of pictures being taken. The murmuring crowd in the gallery was mostly sympathetic, as it was well-known Reign’s health was not exactly in peak condition.

A black unicorn mare watched with keen interest at the back of the gallery. Her eye followed the Halfling prince as he tiredly made his exit with the aid of a changeling filly with an absurdly large mane. A slight frown creased her features, but it disappeared when she shifted her attention to the big unicorn stallion taking the colt’s place. He was very gentle and pleased to meet the foals and their parents, even taking the time to ask them what they thought of their gifts. The black mare snorted, shook her head and went to the front of the gallery where she could be easily seen.

She was recognized by Shining as she stood out with her stunning good looks. Shining whispered something to one of his guards. Emerald Spire was approached by the guard shortly after.

“The Prince Consort was inquiring if you were the Lady Emerald Spire,” announced the guard politely and in a low voice.

“I am,” she said with a nod to the consort. Shining Armor nodded formally back before grinning broadly at a pair of siblings waving dolls in his face. “Is there a problem?”

“No, Miss Spire. The Prince Consort was merely curious and extends his welcome on behalf of his wife, Princess Mi Amore Cadenza.”

Emerald smiled. “Could you please relay the pleasure I have in walking his beautiful city and that I look forward to our business meeting tomorrow? I am simply here to enjoy myself and relax.”

“Yes, ma’am.” The guard bowed politely and returned to Shining Armor’s side. He whispered into a bent ear and the Prince Consort nodded. Looking up, he locked eyes with the unicorn mare and smiled at her in thanks.

He addressed another colt and spoke with the little guy briefly. When he looked up, Emerald Spire was gone.

Reign Cloud was drained physically, his mental faculties left in tatters. He simply was not used to public appearances, no matter how much his parents tried to coach him. It was tedious, boring, and left him feeling as though there were constantly weights on his wings and hooves when addressing other ponies. The pressure would build and build in his mind until he exploded with frustrated and anxious anger. He was given a drink by one of the servants and left alone on a plush chair in one of the sitting rooms of the palace. There was a teleportation pad in the next room, the same one he used to go from the base of the castle to the heart of the palace.

“So,” Maggie said as Reign sipped a cup of apple juice. “What do you wanna do?” Her eyes were full of life as she stared at him with what could almost be thought of as a maniacal look.

He blinked at her. “What do you mean?”

"Well,” she said with a grin, “don’t you wanna see what your momma’s talking about with the griffon?”

“Does a bear poop in the woods?”

“I’ve never seen one do that, but I think they do.” Maggie shook her mane, grinning impossibly.

“Rhetorical question, Mags.”

“Rhetorical answer!”

“...no such thing…”

“Is now!”

Reign sighed, “That’s besides the point. Are you suggesting I risk getting myself in trouble by using one of the hundreds of secret tunnels you and I explored over the years, causing my parents countless hours of worry until I reappeared without warning in my room none the worse for wear?”

“Yep!”

“Along with the possibility we could very well get caught by my aunts and have them upset with me, possibly having me grounded into my room until I’m forty?”

“You got it!”

“This is terribly cliché, Mags.”

The changeling filly gave him a cool stare. “So, tell me the worse punishment that’s ever been put on you.”

Without missing a beat, he replied, “You.”

“I knew you loved me!” she chirped happily. Maggie gave him the stinkeye. “Heeeey, waitaminute… Was that for that comment I made about your mind earlier?”

He grinned at her. “Maybe.”

The changeling filly shrugged. “Whatever. So. Wanna go listen?”

The colt ruffled his feathers. “Poppa’s not going to bother me until dinner.” He looked at a clock on the wall and squinted as he chewed the inside of his cheek. “Yeah, let’s do it, Mags!”

“Are you gonna be okay?” Maggie asked.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.” Reign went to the wall and studied the crystal carefully. “Which candlestick was it, again?” he asked her curiously, pointed at the wall mounts.

“Left one,” she reminded him with a toss of her mane.

He nodded and shifted his wings to look like his friend’s and rose in the air. He placed a hoof on the candlestick holder and pulled down decisively. There was a click and a portion of the wall fell back and slid aside. It was big enough to let one adult pony through.

Or a curious half breed colt and precocious changeling filly.

“Do you remember the way to the council chambers?” Maggie asked Reign with a bump of her shoulder to his.

“Yep!”

The children had spent the past five years exploring the myriad of hidden tunnels and passageways snaking between the walls of the massive crystalline castle. There was many a restless night the two had explored the depths, finding caches of weapons, gems, gold, and countless other treasures hoarded by King Sombra so long ago. Most of it was hoofed over to the adults, but Maggie and Reign kept a few baubles to remember their adventures. It was spooky. It was fun. It was a break of the boredom for Reign as his life and movement was restricted due to his health. Certainly, Cadence and Shining Armor were fully aware of the hidden side of the Crystal Castle, having even made their own forays into it.

In the early years, the two were forbidden entry. King Sombra might have left traps as he had with the castle proper. Oddly enough, there were none to be found. It was assumed the passages had been constructed as a sort of emergency escape for the deposed tyrant. They tried to close off the hidden chambers and halls, but inevitably Reign Cloud found other ways into the unknown parts of the castle.

And Maggie was his enabler.

It was within these walls Reign and Maggie established the bonds of their friendship. They shared every jump at every shadow, snacking on the foods they had taken with them as they spelunked. The duo delved into the darkest places even the adults were afraid to go and they loved every minute of it.

It was within these very walls Reign and Maggie could hear every voice uttered, each whispered given in confidence. The walls kept secrets and it was often one or the other who became privy to them. It was their giggles and laughter which led many of those who worked in the castle to believe the ghosts of foals killed by Sombra haunted the many rooms. A lot of it was admittedly done deliberately and deviously, but it was all in fun.

Imagine Cadence’s miffed expression upon Celestia asking Reign to show her the secret places he and Maggie had discovered. She was allowed only after being sworn to secrecy. Later, she would tell her niece to allow the children their fun and no harm would befall them within the castle.

That had been a couple of years ago and with the blessing from the Alicorn of the Sun, the children were allowed to play so long as they immediately report anything new or different in their little expeditions.

Now, they knew the castle like the back of their wings and they knew exactly where to go. Within five minutes, they were in a little round room lit only by the light at the tip of Maggie’s horn. The acoustics allowed them to hear the adults talking. Easily they could make out the speakers.

“—needs to be addressed and quickly. My Emperor has asked I come to explain a few things and voice his concerns,” spoke a male baritone voice.

“Griffonia closed her borders for nearly a decade.” Luna’s voice resonated sternly. “What few things could have possibly closed your Emperor from his friends? Has Equestria not been a strong ally towards your nation?”

“It’s not that…” the griffon said, his voice trailing. “I need a drink.”

“Cadence?” Celestia spoke gently.

“You prefer a port, don’t you?” asked Reign’s mother.

“Ah, thank you, princess.”

There was a moment of pause. Maggie blinked and stared at Reign, who was busy staring hard at the point where the sounds were travelling from above him. She nudged him, shrugging her shoulders. He shook his head, set his jaw firmly and jabbed a hoof at the ceiling. She rolled her eyes. Maggie was never one for patience.

“Please continue,” Cadence said. “I know I was worried with the inner turmoil. With your nation bordering mine and my ponies unable to get any answers as they were turned from your borders. This concern has also been at the forefront of my aunts. We all want answers. Was there a civil war? A revolution?”

“It was a matter of unwanted guests using our nation rather rudely,” replied the ambassador. “We know so little about changelings, but we do have some previous experience with them.”

Reign was playing rapt attention. Maggie twiddled her hooves.

“The changelings had a war in our backyard,” sighed the ambassador. “Without asking our permission, mind you. Save one. Quite rude of the others, really.” He sniffed, pausing. Perhaps taking a sip of his wine. “We had to close the borders and set up patrols to keep them from spilling out into our neighbors’ yards.”

“We would have helped,” Celestia said gently. “Why did you not ask for it? Do you require aid now?”

“You see, Princess Celestia,” he said smoothly, “you should know better than anyone in this room other than myself my kind are a stubborn race. We pride ourselves in being able to handle things without outside interference. As this war erupted, it should be noted the battles were for the most part kept away from major populations. Cities and hamlets were left almost untouched. We were not the targets of this war.”

“How curious!” exclaimed Luna. “Pray tell, how exactly does one wage a war upon another nation and not do acts of destruction upon the populace?”

“By not going to war upon the griffons,” came the reply. The ambassador harrumphed. “A changeling civil war of sorts exploded around us and the damn bugs avoided His Imperial Majesty’s forces with maddening regularity. We tried to contain this nasty little fight and found we could do little more than skirmish with the blighters.”

“National pride kept the griffons from asking for help, didn’t it?” Cadence’s voice was heavy with disappointment. “I do wish you noble lion-birds would set it aside and ask for help from their friends. It’s a big world and we need to lean on each other at times.”

“Not now, Cadence,” Celestia interrupted. “Ambassador, what happened? What you’re saying is quite serious. Why the secrecy? There’s something you’re not telling us. Are we not friends with Griffonia? Have we not put the past behind us and established a peaceful and beneficial coexistence?”

“And we value that relationship,” pointed out the ambassador. “Please, we did not want to drag the world into our issues. Our Emperor commanded it. We obeyed, because we are loyal to His Imperial Majesty. It’s just that...what happened was so...mercenary.”

There was the sound of a heavy sigh. The foals looked at each other from their hiding place. The talk of war had swung Maggie’s attention one hundred and eighty degrees and now she had her ears perked forward as she craned her neck eagerly at the ceiling. Without thinking, she handed Reign a granola bar.

“The Emperor was paid,” he stated distastefully.

“I beg your pardon,” said Celestia softly. Maggie and Reign could barely hear her. “But did you say ‘paid’? What do you mean?”

“His Majesty was paid a hefty sum to close his borders by one of the changeling queens. She wanted to use griffon lands to wage war upon her own kind.”

“Did you not just inform us your armies were skirmishing with changeling forces?” Luna asked with a touch of confusion.

“The standing order was to keep the changelings within our borders and keep innocent parties from becoming involved in the war.”

Luna hissed, “Madness!”

Reign flinched. He had never heard his aunt react this way before.

Apparently, the ambassador felt the same way. “Please understand, this situation was unprecedented and the queen did deliver on her promise of payment once her war was completed. She even paid half of what she promised up front. I never heard of such confidence before. We thought she would fail. The Emperor declared she would not last a year.”

“What reason did the Emperor have to trust this changeling queen? What did she look like?”

“Tall. Dark. Equine in shape, of course,” said the ambassador blandly. “A long, crooked horn and having eyes of a demoness. Arrogant and dangerously intelligent. I dare say she might even have been pretty if she wasn’t so damned frightening! As for trust? Well, that was never the issue as we mobilized our entire army. We put every griffon on alert and declared a Pact of Silence.”

“Ah, calling upon all griffons to speak of nothing unless given permission,” Celestia said, “It must have been quite a crisis to close your borders, call for utmost secrecy and put the whole of the griffon army on alert. Clearly you were preparing for the worst.”

“We anticipated treachery,” grumbled the griffon. “We know nothing of changelings save for what you told us based on your past dealings.”

“I haven’t seen any other queens, so I really can’t speculate if she’s our changeling queen,” remarked Cadence sourly. “It’s not much to go on.”

“I do have photos, if you would care to have a look,” offered the griffon. “They’re a few years old, but these were taken when she approached the Emperor while requesting political asylum.”

“Political asylum?” wondered Celestia. “By law, griffons must allow three days of full protection while they consider the request, do they not?”

“Indeed. Ah. Here they are. What do you make of her?”

There was a long moment of uneasy silence. Reign wanted to see the pictures. Maggie was interested, too.

“It’s her,” Cadence breathed. “I’d recognize that face anywhere. Chrysalis.”

“I was not aware she gave her name to you ponies,” observed the ambassador.

“Our intelligence gave her that name,” said Celestia offhandedly. “It was either that or Ladybug.”

There was the sound of chuckling coming from the adults.

“Why not Ladybug?” asked the ambassador.

“First of all, she isn’t red.”

“Ah.” The griffon sounded as if he didn’t know if he should take her seriously or not.

“How long ago was this?” Cadence asked.

“Hrm,” the griffon paused in thought. “I’d say nine years. October, I should think, just before the Harvest Festival. I recall she had a nasty limp. Nine and a half years.” He was more confident as he spoke.

Luna spoke up. “So, this is Reign Cloud’s mother. Hard to believe such arrogance could conceive and bear such a wondrous foal.”

Reign’s heart jumped into his throat. “Mother?”

“Shh! Quiet, dummy, they’ll hear you!” Maggie hissed in his ear.

His wings unfurled partially as he sniffed at the ceiling.

“Oh dear,” sighed Celestia. “Cadence, where is your son? Would you mind locating him for me?”

Reign heard his mother answer, “Of course.” There was a momentary pause as sudden dread settled heavily in the colt’s stomach. “He’s...in serious trouble!”

The world shimmered and swirled around the colt and filly, accompanied by a pressure at their sides as though some vast talon gripped them gently. For a moment, there was darkness. A flash later, Maggie and Reign Cloud found themselves surrounded by three alicorns and a very large and imposing griffon. One alicorn was not amused.

“Reigny,” Maggie said grandly as she levelled a pitying look upon him, “you’re on your own!” And she made a break for the door.

Only to be caught by Luna’s telekinesis. She was smirking hard. “Enabler!” she called to the changeling.

“Curses!” she cried, struggling futilely.

Cadence was not amused and also perplexed. “Reign Cloud? Just what do you think you’re doing?” she demanded sternly.

Celestia simply raised an eyebrow, her amusement twinkling in her eyes.

“What goes on here?” roared the ambassador.

“Well?” Reign’s mother prodded. Her frown seemed unnatural, given her usual sunny disposition.

“Um,” he stammered lamely, “looking for rats?”

“Rats are delicious,” rumbled the griffon, glaring down at the Halfling. He snapped his beak loudly for emphasis.

The colt spun and only realized just then how big a griffon could be. The ambassador was massive, his black feathers touched with gray. A white feathery crest rose from his head and his yellow beak had serrated notches.

In the instinctual choice of fight or flight raged a war for exactly six seconds while Reign stared up at the ambassador, the obvious one was selected. The prince in a panic nipped the beak looming down at him and took off, following it up with a very loud and unexpected hiss. His wings flared out in a threat display and he fluffed his fur and feathers to look bigger. His hooves spread wide and his mouth was open, showing his fangs.

The griffon recoiled, his golden eyes wide as he stared down at the little ball of hiss. With one talon, he rubbed the area where the prince had bit him.

“Reign!” cried Cadence, moving swiftly and scooping him up in her forehooves.

“Hoo-boy!” gasped Maggie as she facehooved. Luna shushed her with a glare. She curled up and grinned sheepishly under the diarch’s glare. “We’re gonna die, Reigny! Die horrible, horrible deaths!” Her eyes went up to the griffon who seemed to be in a state of shock quickly shifting to something more menacing. “Don’t eat us! We’re nothing but tofu!”

Cadence tightened her grasp on her son the moment his first panicked chirp reached her ears. It was a reflex changeling nymphs could do when frightened and Reign was sounding off like a giant fuzzy cicada. The Alicorn of Love went from wearing her angry mommy face to her protective mode in the blink of an eye. Her glare was levelled at Maggie, who shrank away with a sheepish grin.

The ambassador recovered, rubbing his beak as he studied the terrified prince. “So,” he said slowly as he blinked slowly, “that’s what a Halfling looks like? I hear you have quite the temper, boy.”

26. Life Goes On

Edited by TuxOKC

The scents of a young summer’s breeze tickled the nose of a certain slumbering colt. Groggy thoughts rolled through his head, his hazed recollection of events not yet registering. Vague notions of his mother holding him sprang to mind, as well as Poppa. There had been other visitors, of course, as well as a presence always constant in his mind. Reign Cloud woke up in his own bed, blinking at the shafts of sunlight invading his room. He preferred to have his curtains closed, as he liked the dark.

How long had he been out?

His body remembered the pain, but now with sore muscles and aching joints. Breathing had been easier. The doctor had said both his lungs had suffered damage. All his organs had been battered. Bones had been fractured. Most of all, he had been made weak in all manners he could think of. The days and nights had blended and very little could be recalled. Losing track of time bothered to colt.

The nightmares plagued his sleep. Dead ponies and changelings rose from the rubble of a dark and destroyed city. The specter of a vast, monstrous spirit hovering behind them with malevolent eyes. The insane laughter of a madmare filled his feverish dreams. Luna appeared and chased them off, comforting the bawling prince in the aftermath.

Between his two immortal aunts, the Moon was his favorite. Celestia was nice, but Reign loved the stars. Luna was more than happy to teach him the magic of night.

Still, pain, his old and unwanted companion had decided to not go away. After getting a fleeting feel for what it meant to not be in some state of agony, thanks to his birth mother, Reign decided he hated the pain all the more. No matter how much he fought both the pain and his tired state, the colt drifted in and out of consciousness at random. Reign remembered snippets. His recollection was blurry, but there had been movement in his peripherals. The voices of Momma and Poppa were unmistakable, as well as Maggie and Wilda. Those he cared for most were there at one point or another, talking to him, speaking words of encouragement.

He found he missed Maggie. She was his constant companion, a bubbly creature full of life and love. The lack of her presence made him feel empty in ways he did not understand.

Reign Cloud found himself in a miserable state. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t speak for himself. The magic and medicine combined to make him little more than a sentient vegetable. He wanted to talk to somepony or someling!

We’ve done all we can. The magic will need time to leech out the remnants of the Windigo…

The magic drain to his body was great. He will need time to recover from the drain as well as heal. Too much magic in his frail state could do more harm than good...

Reigny? Please come back! I wanna play with you. I can’t play with you if you’re sick…

Son? Be strong. We’ll all be here for you…

Dearest nephew! Thou art too stubborn to succumb to such dark magics! When you are well, I will make a night of falling stars for you! What say you? I will have thy word thou shalt be whole again!..

You will hold your sister in your hooves, Reign…

My son...my heart...I do and always will love you…

The words were whispers, on the brink of becoming forgotten to the mists memories. Reign clung to those words, spoken from so many. They were his encouragement, something to cling to through the dulling pain. Oh, how he tired of the pain! When could he be strong? Reign had been so close to feeling normal, to being normal.

One voice, one new to his memory and one he dreaded came to mind more often than not. With the voice came the face. With the face was that one eye boring into his soul. When he dreamed of that face, a visage of hopeful confidence crumbled to a shattered heart. There was a hitch, pride fighting with humiliation. Try as he might, the colt could not escape that face.

You are the ocean to which my heart flows…

He blinked, staring out the window from his bed. Beneath him, his wings twitched as he lay on his back. A mountain of pillows had him propped up against the headboard. Her voice was so different, so menacing. The way it buzzed was not unlike Wilda when she spoke, but there was a hard edge, a coldness. The queen’s voice terrified him.

Reign Cloud was confused. Momma had been exhausted from banishing the Windigo and had not been able to visit him as much as he would have liked. Poppa was a constant visitor, his exhausted face forced aside, the worry and concern replaced by a smile and constant Dad jokes. The colt could sense his father’s emotions: Shining Armor refused to give in to the stress. Every time Reign would ask him about the city and the people, Poppa would smile and tell him everything was going to be fine. Once he asked how many had died. Shining Armor told him not to worry.

But worry he did. No matter how much he was told none of what happened was his fault, Reign still felt guilt. He thought he should be reviled and hated because the Windigo had come from him. There were letters from well-wishers and cards scrawled in foalish script telling him to get well. They should have made Reign feel better, but he felt they had not been told the truth. The Windigo had come from him and he felt responsible.

Telling Poppa what he felt had been hard. Seeing his father sputter and try to tell him it wasn’t his fault did little to settle the Halfling’s troubled heart. Reign refused to receive any visitors after that.

So, he sat there, in his bed, staring out the window. Thinking was all he could do, no longer sure on how he should feel. ‘Moping won’t do you any good, son,’ Poppa had told him before he left his son to his own thoughts. ‘Remember we love you and we know you were not responsible. Keep that in mind.’

How long had he stared? The sun by now was setting, the light becoming an orange glow. Shadows were stretching across his room. It fell on the large telescope he had gotten from Aunt Luna two years ago. He had seen many of the stars she had named and had followed the path of the moon with it. The metal reflected the light. It bobbed.

Staring at the telescope, Reign squinted, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. His ears swiveled and focused, his nostrils sniffing at the air. He caught a scent. It was familiar. Memories of the temple spun through his imagination, twisted and larger than life.

She tilted the telescope up and down, making a play at examining it. Her single eye followed along its length from the eyepiece to the lens cover. A holed hoof traced along its length as she admired the quality and sturdy construction. Her steps were silent as her long tail brushed over the carpeted floor behind her legs. The grace of her form was regal, yet humble. Her mane was coiled around her neck, a single, thick braid tied off with a silvery cord. Her gossamer wings lay along the length of her back and over her flanks. Behind her crooked horn, her mulish ears were laid back and over her mane.

“My, my, my,” she said as she approached Reign with slow and deliberate steps, “You seem to be recovering nicely.” Her false eye swirled like a storm within a translucent pearl. The good eye flicked up and down Reign’s form, her lips pursed in contemplation. “How are you feeling?”

“What do you want?” Reign was blunt in his question.

“Straight to the point,” Chrysanthemum said with a wry smile, “I like that. Your…mother...asked that I have a chat with you. No threats, no ultimatums. Just a talk between you and me.” She came to a stop at the foot of his bed, taking a moment to take in the room. “I will leave if I make you uncomfortable. I had to haggle with your father in order to meet you. There was an agreement. This conversation is being listened in on. It is a concession I do not like, but it will do so I may speak with you.” Chrysanthemum hummed, settling her remaining eye upon the colt.

Reign stopped short of telling her off. She frightened him, but he was curious. The fury he remembered was gone. Her emotions were guarded, but Chrysanthemum was allowing him a small peek.

“Your adoptive mother, the princess, has become quite powerful since I last witnessed her love,” she said in a conversational tone. Her eye found something of interest on the wall. It was a movie poster with Daring Do. Smirking, the changeling shook her head and rolled her eye. Her attention went back to the colt. “She did away with the monster with such ease. I never knew she had it in her. Needless to say, I was impressed.”

Chrysanthemum’s smile died on her lips as she regarded the colt and his suspicious eyes. “You have no reason to trust me, but I assure you, all I want to do is talk. It’s been a trying time. You were out of it for a month.”

“You were here, weren’t you?” Reign blinked and wagged a hoof at the queen. “You spoke to me. When?”

She rolled her shoulders and bobbed her head. “At night. When everypony was asleep. Wards can’t keep me from going where I want to go, my son. I’ve a right to check on my own flesh and blood.” An impish grin crossed her muzzle. “This time, I asked for and was given permission. I am watched and always followed. I don’t even bother to conceal myself.”

Reign gave her an incredulous stare.

“I curled myself around you, my Pale Shadow, and sang to you. I was surprised when Mi Amore Cadenza allowed me in the same room as you. Your father was less than thrilled at the idea, but listened to his adorable little wife. She thinks it is important you and I come to an understanding, at least.”

“You don’t like my parents.”

She considered the colt’s words, almost breaking out a smile. Wisdom prevailed and she kept her lips in a straight line. “No, I wouldn’t go so far as to say I dislike them. I still have feelings for the unicorn and I am…enlightened to what Cadenza is capable of.”

The look Reign gave her was deadpan.

“Your adoptive mother understands love all too well,” Chrysanthemum told him in a matter-in-fact tone. “I never gave up on the hopes of holding you again, Reign Cloud.” Was that a tremble in her voice? “There were so many queens who wanted you dead, my Pale Shadow. They went so far as to depose me, invade my kingdom, and chase me all the way to the Crystal Empire. I was herded. Zeala herded me. Her honeyed words promised sanctuary for you, for me, for those loyal to my crown. The magic she used here was first used on me.

“I wanted you safe and happy. I could not give that to you ten years ago. I do not think I could give that to you now. My kingdom, your eventual inheritance needs to be rebuilt. The population was decimated, scattered. My enemies outnumbered me and conspired for their own selfish gains. They were not united. They did not trust each other. I was able to use that against them.” Chrysanthemum’s eye seemed to take on a distant, glazed stare.

“I planned to remove them, using their distrust against each other. All the while, you were safe here, with your father and now with an alicorn for a foster mother. I had hoped to come back sooner for you, but there were complications. No, I do not hate your pony family. I hate that you took to them as readily as you did. I hate the fact I was replaced so quickly and by a mare whom I despise, but knew would make a perfect mother for you.”

Somehow, she was now sitting on the edge of the bed, plucking at the blankets and smoothing the fabric with a hoof. Reign blinked, wondering how she could move like that without him noticing. Her gaze was upon him and filled with sadness.

“I missed you for so long, my son. My life was empty without you, but I had to let you go so you could live. Yet, seeing you reject me, hearing you reject me, feeling you reject me...broke me in ways no enemy could. Our bond has always been, though our time apart weakened it.” Her voice sounded calm, but the ocean beneath the surface was in turmoil.

“I don’t want to lose you,” she went on, giving him a piercing look. “The war took so much from me, our people, our way of life. My foolishness in my first few years as queen, listening to those who were plotting against me, wanting me to fail and preparing to take what was mine was my ruination. In many ways, you are all I have left of what I once was.” Chrysanthemum let out a sigh, collecting herself again. A small smile formed.

“I am glad to have you alive, my Pale Shadow. I am so glad. So, so glad! But I failed you as a mother as much as I preserved your life. There were days, my little morsel, when despair clutched at my heart when I would wake up and not have you at my side! I wanted my nymph! I wanted to come back and reclaim you! There were times I caught myself near the point of abandoning what needed to be done and coming to get you! It was worse when I received news of the death of Shatterback.” The queen’s face morphed a brief flash of loss. “He would have been your father. I had plans to make him my consort. He had a name chosen for himself. It was for when the fighting was done and I was again sitting upon my rightful place on the throne.”

Reign swallowed hard and dared to ask, “What was it going to be?”

Chrysanthemum’s ears waggled and drooped. “He never said.”

“Oh.” The colt had no idea what to say to that, other than, “I’m sorry.”

She gave him a weak smile. “Don’t be. Never blame yourself for what happened all those years ago. You were but another innocent become a pawn in the power play of others. I tried to remove you from the playing field as best I could, only to put you into another game.”

The smile faded. “I will never be friends with the ponies, Reign Cloud. I don’t like the way they think, the way they herd, the weakness of the whole when it comes to facing a threat. I exploited it once and toppled one of the two main threats to my attempt at conquest.” She patted his leg, then brushed a strand of his hair from his face. Her voice had shifted, become mothering. “That being said, I will promise you one thing; so long as you live, I will never wage war upon the Crystal Empire. I will agree to a non aggression pact. I will allow trade between our kingdoms. This I swear.”

“Pinkie promise?” Reign dared ask.

Chrysanthemum blinked. “Pinkie,” —she tilted her head to one side— “promise?”

“Cross my heart and hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye!” Reign went through a series of strange, foalish motions, confusing the queen.

“What?”

“You have to do it. If you want my trust, you have to do a Pinkie Promise! You can never, never, ever break a Pinkie Promise! I’ll believe you if you make the promise and keep it.”

A pink mare popped up from the mass of pillows behind Reign, staring with balefire eyes at Chrysanthemum. “Foreeeeeeveeeeeer!” she hissed at the changeling queen. Seeing the colt, she gave a bubbly smile, “Hi, Reign! Glad to see you’re looking better! Twilight asked me to check in on you. I’ve got plans for your cutecinera! The party will be ready when you are!” Pinkamenia Diane Pie cast one last look at Chrysanthemum. She made a motion of pointing her hoof to her eyes then at the changeling, repeating it as she sank away.

Staring at the spot where the earth pony had appeared, Chrysanthemum let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. “I’d heard stories,” she murmured, “of a pink menace that almost defeated my army.” The queen—still staring at the spot—went through the motions and intoned the sacred words. “I agree to your terms, my son.”

Reign gave a solemn nod. “Good.” What energy he had was gone. Reign felt sleepy and let out an unwanted yawn. “Sick of sleeping,” he complained. “Where’s Momma?”

“She’s watching us,” Chrysanthemum replied, edging closer. Her voice had dropped to a near whisper, her eye washing over the little form in the middle of the mountain of pillows. “As is your father. I had to make some agreements to secure a visit with you. You’ve been awake before. Do you remember?”

He shook his head. “I can’t tell. Don’t remember much. Some voices, faces. I remember being tired a lot. Why am I letting you near me?” Reign tried to growl, but only managed a mighty yawn.

Chrysanthemum smiled. “I am still bonded to you.”

“Bonded? Kinda like Wilda and her nymphs?”

The changeling’s mane bounced as she bobbed her head. “Yes! It’s always been there since you were born. Deep down inside you, there is a connection to me. It is not as strong as when you were younger, but it is there. I can help you find it, if you want.”

“Will it hurt?”

“Oh, my son, no!” she reassured him. “It is a natural thing, this bond between mother and child. All changeling mothers have this bond with their children. They nurture it and use it to help teach right from wrong. The bond is how you learn to know how strong an emotion is.”

“I don’t wanna.” He gave her a petulant glare. “I don’t trust you. You hurt Aunt Celestia, kidnapped Momma, and made Poppa your slave.”

Chrysanthemum sighed as if she expected nothing less from the fruit of her womb. “I understand,” she told him in a calm tone. “I have taken steps to accommodate the requirements necessary for a mutual understanding.”

“I don’t hear a ‘sorry’ in there,” Reign grumped. “Doesn’t sound like a sorry at all!”

“I will never apologize for things that I feel do not need an apology,” the queen spoke as she sat tall. “Politics is never about apologizing, my little morsel. It is about making amends for mistakes without the humiliation. I am a proud queen. I do not apologize to those who are not my betters. Do you understand this?”

“No,” Reign admitted, blinking in confusion.

She smiled at him. “In time, you will understand.”

“Why do you hate my Momma?” the colt asked. “Why can’t you be friends with her? She raised me. Doesn’t that mean you kind of think of her as a friend?”

“Pale Shadow,” Chrysanthemum let out a weary breath, “only a fool goes against an alicorn on her own ground. I may not like Empress Mi Amore Cadenza, but I respect her power and I respect how she runs her empire with far more competence than I had once thought.”

“Empress? She’s an Equestrian princess. The Empress title is honorary.”

“Yes, it is. I may not like Cadenza, but I do honor her. I respect her, my son. Nothing more, nothing less.” The queen bent her neck, her mane spilling over her shoulders and shifting to one side. “Shall I tuck you in? I missed many nights of tucking you into bed. I will sing you to sleep, a lullaby. One my mother used to sing to me when I was a nymph. Would you like that?”

Reign yawned again. “I guess.”

She smiled. “Thank you. When you wake up, I will be gone. I have a kingdom of my own I must return to. There are changelings in need of homes and I must see to it they are safe while they rebuild. Heavy is the weight of the crown.”

“Okay,” the colt tried to fight his heavy eyelids. “Want Momma.”

“I know you do.”

His blankets were brought up around his shoulders. Gentle ministrations snuggled him deeper into his bed. Lips brushed his temples and he could feel the warm breath of his birth mother as she hovered her muzzle over him. He could hear her inhale as she nuzzled him. Her touch was light. She sang with no words, her voice forgetting its harshness. The words ‘I love you were mixed in with her song, as gentle as a warm spring breeze. In no time, Prince Reign Cloud was fast asleep, the one who birthed him weeping as she sang.

Queen Chrysanthemum departed Reign’s room. Its doors were flanked by a pair of guards who eyed her with hard gazes. As she turned to go down the hallway, Shining Armor appeared. A pair of guards were with him.

“Satisfied?” he asked in a strained voice. Keeping his composure was difficult, it seemed.

“He is asleep,” she told the father of her son. “Thank you for allowing me this. It means a lot to me.” A playful grin shimmied across her muzzle. “It really shows you care.”

“Yeah, no,” he shot back, narrowing his eyes. “My wife wants to foster the love you have for your son and she seemed to think it might not be a bad idea to let him see you.”

“You have a very intelligent and wise wife, Prince Consort.” Chrysanthemum strode with slow steps, putting a sway in her hips as she approached the stallion. “I certainly am envious of her in regards to the catch she has in you. I am most impressed at the decision you made to funnel all funds for your hoofball project towards rebuilding. Very commendable.”

“Yes, well, some things are more important than sports.” He stood his ground, but his nostrils flared as she drew near. Instead of stopping, she glided by, her shoulder brushing his as her gaze stayed ahead of her. “I wish you’d stop flirting with me. It’s not going to happen.”

Chuckling, the queen tossed words over her shoulder. “Ah, but getting you flustered is more than entertainment enough, dear Shining Armor.” She ignored the guards giving her hostile glares. She continued down the hall, buzzing her wings, then resettling them. Turning a corner, she disappeared, the sounds of her hooves echoing in her wake.

Princess Mi Amore Cadenza sat at her desk in her personal office, going over one of the many reports and requests stemming from the Windigo’s rampage. She was relieved the casualties were far less than she had feared, but there were still dead and still wounded. Families were without mothers or fathers, parents lost foals or nymphs. There had been funerals going on for far too long. The alicorn’s heart ached and she felt responsible for the losses. Lives were irreplaceable. Broken families, broken hearts. The property damage was calculated to be in the hundreds of millions. A full ward had been destroyed and still looked like a small war had been fought in it. Another had suffered less damage, but the scars remained. The temples had been destroyed, save for superficial damage to Celestia’s sanctuary. Equestria had pledged support and the repair and reconstruction was underway. Other nations did what they could, be it food and supplies, help with clearing the streets and sifting through the rubble.

Worse still were the recovery teams still finding bodies. The last survivor had been rescued three weeks ago. Nothing remained but the most grim of tasks.

Still weak from using so much love, the alicorn was still recovering. At least her magic was functioning, enabling her to pick up small objects.

Her secretary poked her head into the room. “Your Highness? Queen Chrysanthemum has returned from visiting Prince Reign Cloud and has requested to speak with you.”

Cadence closed her eyes and took in a deep breath.

“Do I turn her away?” asked the secretary.

“No!” Cadence rose from her seat and moved around her desk. “I’ll see her. Let her in. How was her visit with my son?”

“She agreed to the terms, sang to him, and cuddled him after he went to sleep. In other words: she behaved.”

The alicorn found herself warmed at the thought. No, she was not at all a fan of her former foalnapper, but it did not take much to see the queen had missed her son. The love was there, beneath the cold and heartless exterior. Cadence thought it might be beneficial for the future if Chrysanthemum could be at least cordial with her if she let the queen visit Reign Cloud. Anything past that was up to the colt to decide if he wanted his birth mother in his life. She had high hopes her son might be the key to establishing a lasting peace with the unpredictable changeling queen.

There was a lot of guilt associated with those hopes.

Cadence smiled and nodded at the pony. The secretary nodded and slipped away from the door. There was her voice speaking and being replied to by the unmistakable voice. A shiver ran unbidden down her spin. Shuffling her wings, she made herself as presentable as possible, striking a regal pose. The tall and imposing figure of Queen Chrysanthemum strode into the office.

“Cadenza,” greeted the queen.

“Chrysanthemum,” intoned the princess. She indicated a seat in front of her desk. “Care to take a seat?”

“Thank you.” The changeling took the offered chair and watched as Cadence slid into her own office chair. There was a moment of silence as the two stared at each other over the mahogany desk.

“Tea?” Cadence played the role of hostess with little effort.

“No, thank you. I will only bother you for a moment.” The queen adjusted herself in her seat, turning her head to one side in a way so her lone eye fixated on the alicorn. “I have had a month to enjoy the hospitality of the Crystal Empire and I am not ashamed to admit I find the unity of your citizens impressive. I have been able to secure some political contacts and find aid my people need to start the process of rebuilding.”

“Are you sure you won’t accept help from Equestria?” Cadence queried.

Chrysanthemum sniffed, “Absolutely not! The terms given to me were unacceptable. I will not allow Equestrian troops in my lands. Those two sisters are more meddlesome. I made my decision and it is final.”

“Very well,” a wan smile accompanied her words. Cadence decided to switch to what was still fresh in the queen’s mind. “How was your visit with Reign?”

Chrysanthemum’s eye flickered for a moment. “He doesn’t trust me. I can’t blame him. He doesn’t know me, but we were able to come to an understanding.”

Cadence cocked an eyebrow. “What sort of understanding?”

The queen gave her a professional smirk. “I have no intentions of pursuing any form of aggression against the Crystal Empire in the foreseeable future. Everything we have discussed over the past few weeks, I can agree upon, for the most part. I’ll have my advisers go over the finer details, but we can agree to the terms in principle. As you requested, I will leave a political delegation here to hammer out the details. A non-aggression pact is more than good enough for me. I agree to the trade proposals.”

The alicorn nodded, keeping herself stoic and regal. “Very good. Once the documents are finalized, I’ll have them sent to you through diplomatic channels for a formal signing. This pleases me and will set many of my citizens at ease.” She leaned forward and added, “I can feel the love you have for Reign. This makes me glad. It tells me there is hope for you, Queen Chrysanthemum.”

The queen’s eyebrow over her one good eye arched. “Hope? In what way? I certainly don’t intend to stand shoulder to shoulder with you or the other alicorns in harmony.”

“Oh, I have no illusions of that, I promise you!” giggled the princess.

“Then what do you mean?” growled the changeling.

“You’ll see,” Cadence had mischief in her eyes. "Give it a little bit of time. It’ll be something you’ll find unexpected and not unwanted.”

“Hmmph,” Chrysanthemum rose to her hooves. “My business here is done. I bid you good day, Mi Amore Cadenza. I will be leaving tomorrow and I have no desire to be seen off. Thank you for your hospitality.” She paused to collect her thoughts, as if remembering something. Her eye brightened, “I do have a team of builders who would be willing to help. They are all volunteers and I had nothing to do with recruiting them. Your friend Wilda appears to have a lot of relatives back home. I will not stop them from helping, if they so wish.”

“They, of course, would be welcome.” Cadence mimicked her rival and inclined her head enough to appease protocol. “Thank you for coming. This visit will mean a lot to Reign Cloud as he gets older.”

“We shall see,” grunted the queen. Nodding, she turned and left, the door opening on silent hinges. “Congratulations on your pregnancy, by the way. I’m sure you had been waiting a long time.” Without waiting for a reply, Chrysanthemum was gone, the door closing behind her.

Cadence stayed at her desk, resuming her seat as her horn faded. Heaving a sigh of relief, she was looking forward to no longer having Chrysanthemum in her city. The changeling was dangerous, far more so than she was at Canterlot. There was no way Cadence was going to trust her, yet she was curious on why the queen allowed herself to be watched.

Reaching for a bell on her desk, she rang it. Her secretary came in.

“Yes, Your Highness?”

“I need tea, please. Something to calm my nerves.”

“I know just the thing, princess.”

“Thank you, Chloe.”

Queen Chrysanthemum departed as promised, taking her retinue with her. There was little fanfare. Reign Cloud watched her leave and was troubled as she disappeared into the distance. He had wanted to say goodbye, but the doctors were not ready to let him out of his bed yet. Like any other colt denied something they wanted, he threw a spectacular temper tantrum. Within minutes, he wore himself to the point of exhaustion, frustrated to the point of tears.

Maggie was soon brought to the palace, none the worse for wear it seemed from her ordeal. She clucked like a mother hen over Reign Cloud, refusing to leave his side. Attempts to remove her from the Halfling’s room resulted in savage hissing and bared fangs. The doctors insisted Reign Cloud needed rest and quiet. Maggie insisted she needed to stay with him and keep his spirits up. Cadence had to be brought in and she decided in the nymph’s favor.

An embassy was established with but a simple field tent in one of the city’s parks in the changeling district. A soldier named Thorax had been named as ambassador. He was little more than a yesling. The princess and her consort were pleased to see their old enemy go, doubts circling on her promise of maintaining the dubious peace. Both had agreed to take the position of hoping for the best but expecting the worse. Queen Chrysanthemum was dangerous and the changelings of the Crystal Empire had taken note of her involvement. She helped in the taking down of the Windigo. She was now regarded as a hero and a friend to the Empire, much to the consternation of the alicorn and her husband.

There was much work to be done. Many questions still lingered and there was uncertainty. Ambassador Seeadler re-established the griffon embassy. Little word came from Griffonia and her emperor. There were rumors they were puppets to Queen Chrysanthemum, having been bought for half a dragon’s hoard. Outsiders and embassies in the griffon capital were watched. Communications were held through third parties. Inquiries were deflected and those who asked too many questions were escorted to the border. Those banished were ordered never to return on pain of death.

Weeks passed. Reign Cloud’s health improved and soon he was spending time outside. Maggie took on the role of nurse, throwing herself into the task. His mother often joined him as they convalesced. Wilda joined them and the forays became picnics. Often, Reign and Cadence went flying together, exercising muscles that through years of sickness, had been neglected for the colt. Flying for any extended period of time was a thrilling experience for him. Being able to properly exercise allowed muscles and tendons to stretch, Reign started to look and feel healthier.

His cutecinera was a surprise party thrown by Pinkie Pie. Everypony he knew was there, including Aunt Twilight and all her friends. He had fun and not enough cake. He would have had more, but Princess Celestia performed a trick involving the Amazing Disappearing Cake. There were no clowns.

At the same party, Maggie gave him his first kiss, much to the delight of the adults at the gathering. Reign was not amused.

Cadence began to show her pregnancy. Her joy was infectious to her son. Shining Armor had taken the news of the upcoming addition to the family in a predictable fashion. The grin he wore was disturbing to the point until Reign asked him to stop embarrassing him. The news was released to the public of the expectant mother. A citywide celebration erupted and lasted for three days. Letters from well-wishers came in mountainous stacks.

The days rolled into weeks. Weeks grew into months. Summer gave way to fall. By winter, Reign was considered recovered. Cadence had long since recuperated her magic and she displayed a splendid roundness to her belly. Hearth’s Warming came and went and the Crystal Empire kept on her course of recovery. New buildings had sprung up and almost all traces of the Windigo’s rampage was erased.

Father Sun Cloud retired as winter waned. A few days after stepping down, he passed in his sleep. He was well remembered and was missed. Celestia herself delivered his eulogy. The tearful mare expressed how proud she was of the life he had lived. Sun Cloud had touched the lives of many, many ponies.

Perceptor Starcaller began harboring ideas of starting a family of her own. She traded in her armor for a habit and began adopting orphaned foals and nymphs. Igor was swept into this new pursuit of family and he was employed as a full time caretaker of the young.

During this transition, Igor revealed the locations of Zeala’s caches of magical items and books. What dark magics and tomes were discovered were swept up by the alicorns and secreted away. Twilight brought in Starlight Glimmer to delve into the forbidden magics to study. Who was to say Zeala was the only one who had access to such horrible power? What she had was but a tip of the iceberg, as it became clear King Sombra had reached into powers no mortal should have touched. Yet he did, leading to his thirst for power and fall to darkness. The horrors discovered in the books were far older than even the memories of either Celestia or Luna. Even Discord, the Lord of Chaos had no answer. This power was far, far older than history’s recollection.

Of Queen Chrysanthemum there was no word. Ambassador Thorax handled all inquiries, stating Her Majesty was engrossed in rebuilding her nation and had no time for frivolous niceties. Thorax had prepared statements in regards to any attempts at communicating with his queen.

If there was one thing standing out as a constant in Reign Cloud’s young life, it was his curiosity. It was an insatiable beast and one often responsible for giving him courage. Not at all satisfied with how Queen Chrysanthemum had last spoken to him, he had questions he wanted answers to. At his parent’s encouragement (and much, much debate), Reign decided he would write his birth mother a letter. With Cadence’s help, they devised a means to draw the reclusive queen from her proverbial shell.

What better way to entice her than with a single question!

Her response came as quickly as the normal correspondence channels allowed and with great enthusiasm.

~Finis~

Author's Note

There is but one more act, a few words to close this tale.