Starlight Glimmer could hear the shouting from the other end of the hall. She hesitated, ears folding. The last time she had heard such a heated debate through those heavy doors, she had been awaiting the Council of Friendship’s judgement. Rewriting time for revenge should have warranted a punishment of equal severity, but somehow it had not. She did not expect to find forgiveness on the other side of those doors this time, however.

“Oh, for goodness’ sake, Starlight,” she muttered, scowling at herself. “You’re not the one on trial. There’s nothing to worry about.” Still, she had to take a steadying breath before she could uproot her disobedient hooves. The argument within the throne room seemed to grow ever more intense the closer she walked. She paused at the doors and knocked, but there was no break in the conversation from inside; they probably had not even heard her. With a somewhat irritated flick of her tail, Starlight summoned her magic and swung one door open with a spell.

“—gone too far this time, Twilight!” Rainbow Dash was bellowing. “We can’t just let them bully us like this!” She stood in her throne, fore hooves braced against the crystalline table. The magical map of Equestria was spread across its iridescent surface, with several tiny, magenta orbs hovering over certain cities.

“They’ve gone way past being bullies, Dashie,” said Pinkie Pie, her usual smile fixed instead in a deep frown.

“Indeed,” Rarity agreed. She pointed at one of the magic orbs on the map. “Don’t you remember what happened in Maressachusetts? These… these beasts have only grown more ruthless!”

Twilight Sparkle pinned her ears, rubbing one temple with a fore hoof. “I know, but there’s still a chance we could stop all this without resorting to war. We have to try—”

“I’m sorry, hon,” Applejack interrupted, “but Rainbow may be right ’bout this one. We’ve tried playin’ nice, and they don’t wanna listen. It’s time we make a stand and show these changelin’s they can’t mess with Equestria.”

“But Princess Celestia said…” Fluttershy began, poking her head up from where she was huddled low in her throne.

Rainbow Dash slammed a hoof so hard against the table, the map flickered for an instant. “I don’t give a flying feather what Celestia said! She’s—!”

“ENOUGH!”

A wave of magic exploded from Twilight’s horn, shaking the room. Everyone, including Starlight, froze in place; the spell only allowed them to move enough to breathe and blink. A silence which was almost painfully absolute descended upon the throne room. After a minute, Twilight released a weary sigh and slumped in her seat, holding her head in her hooves.

“Girls,” she said, “I know it hurts. I know you’re angry… I am, too. But we have a chance to end this without violence, and the other Princesses agree with me. Maybe it won’t work and war really is inevitable, but we have to try.” Twilight looked up, her eyes flitting from one friend to the next. She blinked when she noticed Starlight standing in the open doorway, and her gaze lingered on the unicorn. “I’ve seen what could happen if Equestria goes to war,” Twilight went on, “and I don’t want the possibility to become a reality. The price is just too high.” She cut off her magic; the spell evaporated.

Starlight exhaled sharply, feeling as though gravity had increased around her. The illusion of extra weight was brief, however, and the burden soon eased from her back. She shook herself—Twilight’s immobilization spell was not one of her favorites. The others did not seem very fond of it either, tilting their ears back, frowning, or rustling their wings once they were free. At least no-pony started shouting again. Even Rainbow Dash kept quiet, plopping back on her haunches and fuming wordlessly at the map.

“Thank you for coming so quickly, Starlight,” Twilight said into the tentative peace.

Five more pairs of eyes settled on Starlight, and she suddenly felt very small. It took more concentration than she would have cared to admit to keep her face from flushing and her legs from trembling beneath those stares. She knew the heat behind them was not directed at her, but it was still a far from comfortable experience. Clearing her throat, Starlight asked, “What did you need me for, Twilight? Has something happened?”

“I’m afraid there’s been another attack,” Rarity answered, gesturing toward a magic orb hovering above Vanhoover.

Starlight’s heart sank. “But… it’s barely been a moon since Trottingham.”

“That’s why we’ve got to do something,” Rainbow Dash pressed. “We can’t just sit around on our rumps anymore!”

“Simmer down, Rainbow. Ain’t no-pony suggestin’ that,” said Applejack. She switched her gaze to Twilight and added, “Course, I’d rather be doin’ a mite more than talkin’ to ’em.”

“Talking to them?” Starlight repeated. “They’ve never wanted to talk before.”

“Exactly,” replied Twilight. “They’re finally giving us a chance, and we can’t let it pass us by. We’ll be leaving as soon as they agree on a meeting place.”

“I still think y’all should bring more ponies with ya,” Applejack grumbled.

“As do I,” said Rarity, nodding. “I wouldn’t put it past those changelings to—”

“Wait,” Starlight interrupted, trotting up to the table. “You’re going to meet with them alone? What if it’s an ambush?”

“I won’t be alone,” said Twilight. “You’re coming with me.”

It took Starlight a moment to fully grasp Twilight’s words. Ears falling, she rubbed a fore hoof against her other foreleg. Before she could order all the questions buzzing around her mind, Rainbow Dash spoke.

“See? Even Starlight thinks it’s a bad idea,” she said. “You need to bring more ponies, Twilight. The Royal Guard and the Lunar Legion have both been waiting for a chance like this, and Spitfire’s had the Wonderbolts on yellow alert since these cowards first showed up in Saddle Arabia. With them out in the open for once, we can hit them and hit hard. Just give the order.”

Twilight shook her head, her waning patience furrowing her brow and tugging down the corners of her mouth. “Even if they intend to deceive us, we have to be true to our promise. They asked to meet on neutral ground to negotiate—no armies, no spells—and we agreed.”

“They wanted you to come alone at first, though, Twilight,” Fluttershy put in, laying a fore hoof over her friend’s on the table. “Are… are you sure it’s really safe?”

“No, I’m not.” Twilight returned her gaze to Starlight. “That’s why I said I would come only if I could bring a second.”

Starlight’s pulse quickened. “Me? But, Twilight, I don’t exactly have a good track record in getting ponies to make—” she paused, remembering Equalton with a sharp twinge in her heart “—morally acceptable decisions.”

“But you have the charisma to sway opinions. Your moral compass may have been skewed in the past, Starlight, but you’ve found north since then. You’ve also seen where the changeling’s extremism can lead. Your skills and experience will be invaluable, and…” Twilight sighed. “And if things do degenerate into a fight, your magical ability will even the odds in our favor.”

Rainbow Dash threw up her hooves. “If you expect a fight, let’s just fight them!”

“No!” Twilight shouted over her. Then she took a deep breath and moderated her tone. “No, Rainbow. We have to take the high road, be the better pony.”

Rarity sniffed disdainfully and muttered, “Changelings aren’t even ponies themselves.”

“Why should that matter?” Pinkie asked.

“It’s yer actions that define ya, Rarity, not yer race,” added Applejack.

“And these changelings have been attacking ponies all across Equestria!” Rainbow Dash yelled, glaring daggers at Twilight. “They hide in plain sight, and then drop the disguise in a park or shop or school and start throwing battle magic at anything that moves. They’ve killed ponies! How would you define those actions?”

An awkward cough broke the uncomfortable quiet which followed. Rainbow Dash kept her burning eyes fixed on Twilight; everyone else turned to the open door. Spike stood there, a scroll clutched in his claws. His spines drooped somewhat, and he hunched his shoulders beneath the ponies’ stares.

“What is it, Spike?” Twilight asked, pointedly ignoring Rainbow Dash.

Spike tightened his grip on the scroll, crinkling the parchment, and curled his tail about his legs. “This,” he started weakly, but then he cleared his throat and drew himself up. “This just arrived from the changelings. They agree that the Fields of Harmony—” he opened the scroll and read a portion aloud “—‘will be a suitable place to meet. We eagerly await the arrival of the Princess of Friendship and her advisor. We have the honor to be your obedient servants: The Splinter Hive.’”

Applejack snorted. “Fancy talk from the likes o’ them.”

“Just because they’re changelings,” said Fluttershy with a small frown, “doesn’t mean they aren’t civilized.”

In a flash and flurry of feathers, Rainbow Dash was airborne. “Can you even hear yourselves? They’re changelings! They aren’t civilized! We should’ve hunted down every last one of them after Cadence and Shining Armor’s wedding! We wouldn’t be in this mess now if we had!”

“And how would that make us any different from them?” Twilight’s voice was soft, but no less hard. She met Rainbow Dash’s glower with cool eyes, unyielding.

Rainbow Dash pinned her ears and, seething visibly, darted out of the room. The thunderous slam of the castle’s front doors resounded through the faceted corridors. A moment later, a blue feather fluttered down to rest on the pegasus’s empty throne.

“Come on, Starlight,” Twilight said, leaving her own seat and heading toward the exit.

Starlight Glimmer lingered, glancing between Twilight and the rest of the Council. They all wore the same resigned expressions, but the mares around the table and even Spike watched Twilight’s departure with tight faces. Starlight spared the map a last look, taking in all the magic orbs marking the cities the changelings had attacked. Then she drew in a breath and followed Twilight out of the room. She held her peace as they made their way through the too-quiet castle halls. Although Starlight could not bring herself to admit it aloud, part of her agreed with Rainbow Dash.

* * *

The prairie rolled in seemingly endless waves of grass all around them. To the distant southeast, the faintest silhouette of the Canterlot Mountain stood blue and hazy. Northwest lay the fringe of trees which hugged Galloping Gorge, and far to the north rose the icy peaks of the Crystal Mountains. There were no towns in this great expanse, nor any cloud-borne pegasus cities overhead. Except for Starlight and Twilight, the Fields of Harmony were empty. It would be a short-lived illusion, Starlight knew, for a tall hill rose ahead of them, beyond which the changelings surely waited. She had expected to hear the buzzing of their wings or their chittering speech by now, but there was nothing. A wind stirred the grass browning with the change of seasons—a hollow whisper to spur them onward.

“Are you all right, Starlight?” Twilight asked as they walked. “You’re very quiet.”

Starlight looked at the alicorn briefly, but then averted her gaze. “These changelings,” she began carefully, “they don’t seem trustworthy. I’ve never encountered any, but from what you and your friends have told me, most changelings are only loyal to their queen.”

“These changelings don’t speak for Chrysalis. They broke away from her hive, probably for the same reasons they’ve been attacking Equestrian cities.”

“But that’s just it. If this Splinter Hive is willing to cut ties to its queen, how can we trust them to keep their word?”

Twilight ruffled her wings slightly. “We can’t.”

“Then why aren’t the Guard and Legion here with us?” Starlight asked. “Why aren’t your friends?”

“Because then we would have failed before we’d even begun,” said Twilight. She looked at Starlight as she spoke, and the compassion and sincerity in those eyes made the unicorn pause. Suddenly, Twilight seemed too old, as though she had reigned in Equestria for as long as the Two Sisters. “Because I still have hope.”

Starlight lowered her ears and swished her tail, watching Twilight crest the hill alone. A frigid claw clutched her heart, but she could not have said whether it was in fear of what she was certain lay on the other side of the hill, or in shame for joining the ranks of doubters digging in against Twilight’s tenuous truce. She felt again the warring emotions and indecision within her, a turmoil which had first gripped her amid a tempest of time and vengeance—with Twilight standing before her, offering to help her find her way out.

After a long moment, Starlight followed Twilight over the hill.

A horde of changelings stood in eerie silence in the grass below. Their chitinous hides glinted like oil in the waning afternoon sunlight. Hundreds of insectoid eyes tracked the ponies’ descent, each blink unnaturally delayed. If these changelings felt anything at the sight of the two ponies approaching alone and unarmed, it did not penetrate their smooth exoskeletons. Then a changeling at the head of the horde turned to one of its nearby fellows, chittered something in its native tongue, and the pair moved to meet the ponies at the base of the hill. It left barely a few pony lengths between them and the horde, but Starlight was relieved they would not be completely surrounded by changelings.

Ponies and changelings alike stopped with less than a length separating them. This close, Starlight could see that the apparent leader stood several inches taller than its companion, almost mirroring the height disparity between her and Twilight. The four stood unspeaking for a time, each side waiting for the other to begin. Starlight glanced at Twilight out of the corner of her eye as the seconds ticked into minutes.

The changelings broke the stalemate. When the leader spoke, its voice rasped and hissed, twisting around a language unnatural to it. “We thank the Princess for agreeing to meet,” he said—though alien, the voice was definitely that of a male. “I am Cercus. Elytra is my second. We speak for the Splinter Hive. There is much we wish to discuss, Princess Twilight.”

“Please, just Twilight is fine, and this is my friend Starlight. We’re grateful you decided to give us this chance to talk peacefully.”

Cercus made a grating noise in his throat. “Peace cannot be achieved unless all differences are set aside.”

Twilight seemed to brighten at that, ears perking up as she said, “I couldn’t agree more. I think we could benefit each other if—”

“We have no interest in weakening the changeling race by mingling with equines.”

“But there’s more strength in allies than enemies,” Twilight said, expression falling. “We could help each other. You could teach us more about your kind and culture, and we could shelter you should Chrysalis come looking for you.”

Cercus frowned. “The Queen is willing to hear us now. She grants amnesty to the Splinter Hive, and she wishes to listen to our grievances and make reparations. We fly to bring her what we have learned.”

“And… what have you learned?” Twilight asked after a pause.

“That we have been right in our endeavors in this land. The differences between changelings and equines are too numerous. Equines are undisciplined, aimless. Yours is the inferior race and must be subjugated.”

“But you just said that all differences need to be set aside for there to be peace,” Starlight interjected abruptly.

Cercus narrowed his eyes at her. “The differences between the Splinter Hive and the Queen have been resolved. There is peace.”

“Among the changelings, maybe,” scoffed Starlight, “but what about between changelings and ponies?”

“There is no peace for our races. We are too different. Only the changelings may prevail, for we are the stronger race, the better race.”

“No one race is better than another,” Twilight said. “We are all part of the same world, a world where every plant and creature is unique.”

“A world where monarchies fall to ruin in the throes of sibling envy,” Cercus hissed. “A world where the Spirit of Chaos is permitted to roam freely. A world where tyrants rise from ancient ice and the bowels of Tartarus to conquer and raze the land with frail opposition.” His lip curled into a sneer. “As long as equines rule, there can be no order, no peace.”

Starlight scowled. “And you changelings have never made a mistake?”

“Don’t, Starlight,” Twilight admonished softly, shooting her a sharp glare.

“I’ve read about what happened at Canterlot,” Starlight argued, ears back. “You were there, Twilight. The changelings attacked without provocation and—”

“The Queen underestimated equines once,” Cercus interrupted. “You can be certain she never will again.”

Gritting her teeth, Starlight looked to Twilight and said, “They don’t even regret what they did. How can you stand there like this doesn’t matter? If Chrysalis were here instead of these fanatics, you wouldn’t—!”

Twilight stamped a hoof and flared her wings. She fixed her flinty stare on Starlight as if to dare her to finish that statement. “Enough, Starlight,” she whispered coldly. “We are not here to make war.”

Cercus made the same grating noise in his throat from before, and this time Starlight realized it was laughter. “Can you not see? You squabble among yourselves because you believe differently, because you are different. Changelings have no such civil unrest. We are one. We have peace, and soon we will bring this peace to Equestria.”

Turning away from Starlight, Twilight said, “You and your Splinter Hive broke from Chrysalis because you had different beliefs. Is that not the same?”

Cercus paused, but only for a moment. “We left because we believed action was necessary. The Queen did not agree then, but she does now. We shall be one hive once more.”

“And what then? What will war accomplish?”

“Peace.”

Twilight shook her head tiredly. “Violence leads only to more violence. Hate breeds hate. If we continue fighting like this, there will be nothing left of either of us.”

“Then there will be no differences to divide what remains,” said Cercus. “All will be the same. All will be one.”

“But differences are not a weakness. They should be embraced, celebrated, not squashed out.”

The once-shared cutie mark of Equalton flashed behind Starlight’s eyes. She just barely managed to conceal a wince at the memory. “If everyone were forced to be the same according to one group’s… or one pony’s… beliefs, there would be no true happiness in the world. There would be false smiles and false cheer.” She looked up at Cercus, meeting his gaze. “Whatever semblance of peace you think you’ve created would be nothing but a lie.”

Cercus flicked his ears back and opened his mouth to retort, but Twilight spoke before he could.

“We were at war once upon a time,” she said, “in the ages of antiquity, before the Two Sisters, before Chrysalis. The forces of harmony and those of chaos nearly annihilated each other then. If we begin fighting anew, the old mistakes will become ours as well. We would destroy one another.”

“If that is how it must be,” Cercus replied, “so be it.”

A wordless exclamation of pure frustration escaped Starlight then. At the same instant her hoof pounded the earth, magic exploded from her horn. The two changelings recoiled, snarling like beasts, fangs bared. A sickly green aura began to pulse around Cercus’s horn.

Twilight quickly leapt between Starlight and the changelings, wings wide to separate them. “Starlight, don’t—!”

“You don’t know what will happen if we go to war,” seethed Starlight, glaring past Twilight at Cercus. “You think you know, but you have no earthly idea. You can guess and preach all you want, but you haven’t seen what’s waiting on the other side of it.”

The autumn sky grew dark; iron clouds crept cold across the blue to hide the sun. As shadows fell unfeeling upon the prairie, the already dying grass withered to dust. The trees sheltering the northern gorge crumbled to ashes, and the ashes were scattered by an arid, biting wind. The earth dried to little more than lifeless sand. All around the changelings and ponies both, colors were leached from land and sky, until the world was grey and empty. Only the wind persisted, a constant gust that clawed at hair and eroded the surrounding hills flat. It lasted for several heartbeats, and then the illusion faded with Starlight’s aura. The last time she had seen that wasteland, she had reordered time. The sight—the memory—still left her numb and hollow.

The changeling horde chittered and shifted as the Fields of Harmony returned to their true state. Above the horde rose a new voice, small and feminine, with a far less grating timbre than Cercus possessed. If Starlight had not been looking at the little changeling standing beside the Splinter Hive’s leader, she might have mistaken Elytra’s voice for that of a pony. Elytra herself shifted wide eyes from the landscape to the ponies, ears folded and wings flittering softly.

“What was that?” she asked.

Relaxing her posture and folding her wings, Twilight replied, “It’s what will become of our world if we choose hate and conflict.” She glanced at Cercus. “But it is a choice.”

Scowling, Cercus sneered, “There is no choice. There is only what must be.”

“Is that really what you want?” asked Starlight. “There is more than one extreme or another. There’s always a middle ground.”

“And if we work together, we can find it,” Twilight put in. “Changelings and ponies can both be happy. There can be peace.”

For a moment, Cercus remained quiet. He simply stared at the ponies, unblinking, motionless. Then his translucent wings started to buzz, lifting him off the earth. “We requested parley to inform you of our decision to return to the Queen. We have done so.” He paused, and then added, “Despite what you equines believe, changelings are not without honor.”

Twilight’s shoulders slumped, and her words left her in little more than a whisper. “Neither are ponies.”

Cercus narrowed his eyes, but he did not respond. He hissed at Elytra, and then spat something in his native tongue at the rest of the Splinter Hive. The horde took to the sky almost immediately; the air was filled with the chaotic hum of their wings. Cercus left first, and the rest followed in a great, whirling swarm. Elytra, however, lingered on the ground for a few beats more, eyes flicking between the two ponies. Uncertainty flashed across her smooth changeling features.

“Please,” Starlight said, stepping toward her. “The next meeting between changelings and ponies doesn’t need to be on a battlefield. For all our sakes, don’t let hate define you.”

Elytra’s ears perked up slightly, and she tilted her head to one side as she searched the ponies’ gazes—for what, Starlight could not guess. Then one of the other changelings in the swarm cried out, making Elytra start. She, too, took flight and, with a last glance over her shoulder at the ponies, rejoined the Splinter Hive.

The ponies watched the horde until it was but a black speck in the distance, neither breaking the silence. After a time, Twilight touched Starlight’s shoulder and began to walk back over the hill the way they had come. Starlight gazed after the changelings a while more before following.

“Do you think this could be the end of it?” she asked.

“I hope it is,” said Twilight. Her expression grew grim for a breath, so fleeting that Starlight almost missed it. “But something tells me we haven’t seen the last of the changelings.”

As they crested the hill, Starlight paused and turned back to the prairie. For the briefest moment, she did not see the Fields of Harmony. She saw the wasteland she had almost created, and she wondered if their efforts today had not created another.

Author's Note

Brownie points to anyone who recognizes the title, and special brownie points to anyone who’s actually watched the episode (one of my favorites, personally). As always, thank you very much for reading, and remember that constructive criticism is much appreciated.