And Wily Changeling Mares
“If you have any prejudices or apprehension about this assignment, now is the time to speak up,” Captain Shining Armor said. Beneath his furrowed brow, bright blue eyes burrowed deep into my own as if to search my very soul. I suppressed the urge to let my powder blue wings rustle nervously. His horn bubbled with a pink light, a tray of food hovered between us. “Once you go in with her, I can’t have you provoking her in the slightest. The Princesses want a fair, clean trial. No tampering.”
My wings rustled despite my wishes. I let my eyes flit between him and the locked door leading into the guest room. One of the guest rooms in Canterlot Castle. “I can’t promise I’ll be chummy with her,” I admitted, adjusting my helmet so my snowy white mane wasn’t in my eyes. “But somepony has to deliver this and keep watch.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes, sir. Like I said, I can watch her, but I can’t promise I’ll be friendly.”
Shining nodded once. “Understandable. I don’t need you to be friendly anyway, but that’s entirely your prerogative. As far as we’re concerned, she’s standing trial as an accused mare, with the same rights as anypony.” Shining floated the tray over to rest upon my back.
I unfurled my wings just enough to balance my burden. “Out of curiosity, if she’s being treated as an accused mare, why are we putting her up in a guest room rather than one of the cells down at Canterhorn Stable?”
“Because her accuser’s wife made such a scene when she started that fight that ponies have swamped the prison to protest. Then the accuser popped off claiming that he was charmed.” He heaved a heavy sigh. I could see the bags in his eyes. “I’ve got my hooves full enough making sure the trial proceedings go smoothly, trying to keep the ones screaming for me to lock her up for good away from the crowd howling about equal justice for all is just extra baggage I don’t need.”
“Thus why you don’t want me to provoke her,” I said. “You don’t want either group to have anything to point at to cast doubt.”
“Bingo.” Shining offered a small smile. Princess Celestia wasn’t too pleased with either of them, not to mention the public outcry this is getting. So she’s decreed full protection.” He paused a beat, then added, “To her credit, she’s cooperated with everything asked of her. As far as we can say, she’s no threat. But … well, there will be guards posted along the hallway if needed, and I have a few barrier spells on the room that my charge helped me develop to negate transformation magic on contact.”
A nervous laugh escaped my lips before I could swallow it down. “So, if she tries anything, scream loud before she casts or bites me?”
“Two for two. And remember—” he placed a hoof upon my shoulder, his eyes boring into mine “—do not, under any circumstances, antagonize her, or let her goad you into taking a swing. I want this clean as a whistle, Slipstream.”
I swallowed a mouthful of saliva. “Yes, sir.”
With another nod, Shining Armor lit his horn again. I heard the metal latch rattle before it clicked, he pushed the door open and bade me to step inside. Then, he caught me by the shoulder. “Oh, I nearly forgot—her name is Céilí.”
Céilí. What an interesting name. I hummed an affirmative and gave a little bow of my head as I entered, my ears flicking at the sound of the door clicking shut behind me, locking me within the opulent, plush guest room. All alone.
All alone with the changeling, Céilí, who seemed content to lounge upon the bed, laying on her side with her chin propped on the back of her wrist, while her other hoof laid near her elbow, giving me a rather … sensuous view of her smooth, chitinous body, from her surprisingly delicate looking shoulders, down her slender sides until my gaze wandered lower to her hips.
I quickly shook myself and looked into her eyes, those teal eyes with alien white pupils which danced with mischief and glee, and felt my mouth go dry.
Her lips slowly tugged into a smoldering smile. “My, my, I should get put under house arrest more often,” she purred, her voice as sweet as honey and smooth as the caress of silk against the edges of my ears. “If I get to enjoy such lovely room service.”
I blinked. Of all the things I’d expected—hissing, promises to escape and punish those who did her wrong, a threat to let her out lest I taste her fangs, something of the like—that certainly wasn’t it. Although, Shining Armor had said she was cooperating. As much as a changeling could, I supposed. “Uh …” I motioned at the tray. “I take it you’re hungry then, ma’am.”
“Starving, dear. Positively famished.” She sat up, an almost fluid motion that made the sunlight play such treacherous games over her polished carapace and accented every one of her supple curves. “For love, for food, and for the little treat your good Captain so kindly gave me.”
“Huh?” My mind raced. Had Shining Armor allowed her to feed on his love?
Céilí let out a musical laugh that flooded my chest with warmth. “Oh, honey, if I hadn’t learned that all stallions our age to be dense as bricks, I’d think you were teasing me!” She leaned forward and licked her lips with a long, muscular, forked tongue, then nodded toward something on the other side of the room. “Look to your left, dear.”
Two sides battled within me. The first, every bit of my guard training telling me that she was only playing this game as some sort of distraction. Yes, clearly the way she laid on the bed, how she crooned in such a sweet voice and looked at me with that hooded gaze were meant to throw me off balance, then get me to look away long enough for her to strike. The other …
Well, my mother always said that stallions think with the wrong head seventy-five percent of the time a beautiful mare was involved. And, changeling or not, Céilí was that and more.
Curiosity worked in tandem with whatever made us stallions so weak to a mare’s wiles, for but a fleeting moment. I turned as asked, my brows furrowed and head tilted in wonder.
Then I found my reflection in the mirror gaping back at me. I watched in almost slow motion as my own cheeks began to fill with a rosy pink blush.
Oh. Oh my.
“Ah! There we go!” she sang, clapping her hooves. “Oh, and how he blushes! I could just nip at your cheeks all day and never tire! You’re a squirmer, aren’t you—oh, don’t tell me! I’d rather find out on my own!”
A shiver ran through my body, all the way to the tips of my feathers. “R-Right. Well, fun aside.” I trotted over to the small wooden table and deposited the tray at the place before the lone seat. Then I stepped back to allow her space so not to crowd her. And also that she couldn’t try anything physical. That was important to Shining’s orders, certainly not at all because I was flustered. “Enjoy.”
With a hum, she rose and stretched like a cat. I tried to tear my gaze away, but found myself once again unable to fight the urge to let my eyes wander over her form, how her svelte body seemed to arch and curve out to wide, tempting hips.
Another hum jarred me back. Her eyes shone with naked glee as she slowly stepped down from the bed and strode forth, her hips swaying and stubby tail fin flicking in perfect time.
At last, I managed to rip my eyes away from her just as she slid smoothly into her seat and began to nibble at the plate of steamed vegetables before her.
“Delicious,” she complimented through a mouthful of food. “Have you eaten, guard pony?”
I flicked an ear toward her, but didn’t look. “Before my shift, ma’am.”
She clicked her tongue. “So formal, you guard types! And here I thought when I gave my name at the start of all this mess, it was meant to be used!”
“You would prefer I call you by name?”
“I would prefer many things to my current accommodations.” After a beat, she added, “Your name and to hear my own spoken by your lovely voice among them.”
My wings rustled, the blush filled my cheeks once more. I turned to meet her eyes again, blinking. “Excuse me?”
“Your name, dear. I’d like to know it. I can hardly call you ’dear’ all the time.” That smoldering smile turned vulpine, showing a row of pearly white teeth. “Unless of course, you’d prefer it.”
The word left my mouth before I knew it. “Why?”
Céilí didn’t answer for a moment. She wrapped her tongue around a plum tomato and drew it into her mouth, her eyes never leaving mine while she sucked it between her lips and slowly chewed. Once she swallowed it down, her smile returned. “Because,” she said, “of all the guard ponies I’ve met save your Captain Armor, you are the only one to speak with me without barking orders.” She cast a wink, adding, “And, truth be told, I find you quite handsome and the prospect of rustling those feathers enticing.”
My feathers betrayed me. They fluffed up like a schoolyard colt before his very first crush. “Slipstream,” I replied despite my own embarrassment. “I’m Lance Corporal Slipstream.”
Her earfins waggled. “And you well know that I am Céilí,” she replied with a little bow. “Enchanted to meet you, my dear Slipstream.”
By the time my shift ended, I trotted from the room wondering just what that mare had in store for me next time, and what she’d done to earn such attention.
Worse still, I walked away wondering why I found her honeyed words so irresistibly sweet, and longed to speak with her again.
Maybe mom was right about stallions thinking with the wrong head.
My second day on shift guarding over Céilí saw me trotting down the hallway on my own, with a tray of hot food and a cup of tea balanced between my shoulder blades. Within my armor, a pouch of roasted nuts jostled and pressed against the left side of my chest.
I hadn’t had the chance to eat before my shift that day, so I opted to take part in one of the oldest and most tried and true traditions in the Royal Guard—using the hidden pocket within my breastplate to sneak a snack onto my shift.
To think ponies think we stand there all stony for hours on end and don’t get hungry. As Shining Armor might say, “What sort of superior wants his soldiers going into battle hungry? One who wants to court defeat. Stay alert, snack if you must, be prepared.”
There were many reasons that Royal Guard morale tended to be higher than that in the Army or Navy. Our officers yell, but we also get treated a little better since we’re responsible for guarding the most important ponies in the land.
Was it any wonder that there was a waitlist to go to basic?
I gave a nod to my fellow guard as he lit his horn to unlock the door and admit me inside, a courtesy I could not overstate since it removed the chance for any unfortunate shifting resulting in plates sliding across the tray to spill food all over my armor. Or dropping all of it onto the floor.
A misfortune I’d never live down in the barracks. Not to mention the earful I’d get from Shining and the cooks for wasting food and disrupting guard shifts.
Muttering my thanks, I stepped through the open doorway and trotted straight for the table. As had been the case the day before, Céilí lounged on her side, posed in a manner which any who appreciated the feminine form would’ve stopped and taken a moment to enjoy the sight—her forehooves folded neatly, her stubby tail just slightly raised, and a half-lidded stare.
Her teal eyes and those milky pupils stared straight at me with a look which told of both desire and … something else. Her fanged smile was playful, but with a sort of fondness I’d seen in mares before.
“Good afternoon, Slipstream,” she purred in that enchanting, sweet voice.
It was clearly no fault of mine, then, that my mouth felt rather dry. “Er, hello, Ms. Céilí,” I greeted the lounging changeling. “I’m back with food.”
Céilí raised a brow, amused. “Well, you used my name at least, so I suppose I can’t complain too much. But if the uncertainty is what drew the Ms title, I assure you, I have no mate.” She rolled over, gracefully sidestepping off the bed with languid grace, she approached. The tantalizing sway in her hips drew my eyes once more, but I at least managed to stop my feathers from fluffing. A small victory. “And what have you brought me for lunch, Slipstream?”
I returned her question with what I hoped was a casual, friendly smile and turned so she could see the tray. “Since Princess Celestia asked for quiche, the kitchens decided to take care of two meals in one shot. And tea, as well.”
The changeling hummed, her brow arched. “I don’t believe I’ve ever had quiche before. Is it good?”
“My mother used to make quiche sometimes.” I nearly shrugged, but stopped short when I remembered my cargo. With a sheepish chuckle, I deposited it on the table before I could forget again, then continued, “I quite like them, but I’ve not tried the castle’s quiche. I’d imagine it must be good, since Princess Celestia typically employs the best.”
An understatement, really. From being posted in Canterlot Castle long enough, I’d learned through the grapevine—and by that, I mean the staff ponies’ near-constant gossip—that there was a rating system among the chefs in Equestria. It went up to five stars, then a special sixth star rating.
A six star chef was one employed in the castle kitchens. They were that much better than the rest.
Curious, Céilí took her seat, nodding her thanks in return for my delivery. She leaned in close, bringing her angular, predator snout a mere hair’s breadth away from the top of the quiche so she could give it a curious sniff. Honestly, she looked almost like a foal in that regard.
A foal who wasn’t quite sure they’d like their food. Then, as if she knew my very thoughts and was trying to play along, she took up her fork and speared the tiniest bit of flakey breading and spinach, and brought it to her lips. Just like the previous day, her forked, almost serpentine tongue lashed out to pluck it from the fork. Céilí chewed thoughtfully, her brows furrowed in concentration.
At last, she swallowed the bite. The tiniest smile tugged at her lips. “It has an … interesting flavor,” Céilí said softly. “I’m not certain it’s something I’d make a regular part of my diet, but … certainly enjoyable every now and again.” Her piece said, the changeling resumed eating, albeit taking moderately sizable bites.
Victory.
Chuckling to myself, I backed away from the table to give her a bit of room and leaned up against the wall. There was little to do while she ate unless she decided that she’d like a conversation during her meal, so I opted to slide my little snack out of my hidden pocket and have a bite to eat.
Pistachios were my choice that day. The market had been out of peanuts, and I quite enjoyed them. Even if they were a little more expensive.
I popped a hoof-full of pistachios into my waiting mouth and chewed, my tail swishing happily. Given how cooperative Céilí had been on my previous shift, I had little doubt things would go smoothly. I could afford to enjoy a little bit of leisure time to snack. The only worry would be her flirting.
Hardly an issue, really.
“Snacking on duty?” she teased, almost on cue. I could see amusement dancing plain in her eyes. “My mother would scold me if I were caught being so inattentive. Let alone my Queen.”
“You mean Chrysalis?” I asked casually.
Céilí pulled a face. “Slipstream, darling stallion, don’t be vulgar. While I’m certainly glad the Badlands Hive has removed that shrew from power, I’ll not be confused as one of her former lackies.”
I held up my free hoof in surrender. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to assume.” I tossed a few more nuts into my mouth. “So, where do you come from, then?” I asked in between chewing. “You don’t have much of an accent for me to place.”
“By design, dear. I can hardly have you guessing and telling ponies on us.” She cast a wink at me, her smile returned. “Perhaps after my trial you can visit. We have a lovely little village in the forest, right on the lake.”
“Oh? Which lake? Maybe I’ve been there.”
“Ah, ah, ah! I said you’d have to wait.” Céilí wagged a hoof at me like a mother scolding her foal. “Naughty stallion. If I didn’t think the guards would come bursting in, I’d say I’d have to punish you for such trickery.”
Snorting, I arched a brow. “Aren’t changelings supposed to like that sort of thing?”
“Why yes. We absolutely adore it. Which is exactly my point—I pull tricks, you fall for them. And with how you blushed yesterday…” she buzzed as she chewed on a bite of quiche. “Well, it does bring back some rather delightful nymphhood memories.”
That gave me pause. “Nymph?” I repeated, testing how the word sounded. “That’s what you call foals.”
The changeling bobbed her head once. “Yes. Ours are called hatchlings upon hatching from eggs, then we grow into nymphs where we remain until adulthood.” Her earfins waggled. “Nymphhood is where we develop our love for such tricks. Oh, the stories I could tell you of all the trouble my sisters and I caused—so many confused little foals tricked into walking right into one of our games, so much love to sip at while they laughed with us.”
My ears twitched. The way she spoke of it, both tricking foals and sipping upon their love, almost sounded more like playing than the invasion during the Royal Wedding. “So, then, your views on ponies …”
“Oh, we adore your kind,” she crooned, pausing to take a sip of tea. “Many of ours have been quite smitten with ponies, some have even remained with us. But, really, I find you all quite fun—such a delight to tease, and such flavorful emotions!”
“Interesting.” I resumed my snack with a smirk. “Almost sounds like how I grew up in Cloudsdale. Minus the obvious.”
“Is that so? And just what sort of mischief did you get into, oh upstanding guardpony?”
It took quite a bit of self-control not to roll my eyes at her comment. My mother wouldn’t have been so restrained.
She’d have burst out laughing. ‘Upstanding? My cutie mark!’ she’d say.
“As a matter of fact,” I said, a sly smile spreading across my muzzle, “you’re looking at the record-holder for most detentions given at Translucidus High School.” Rustling my wings proudly, I added, “In fact, I have it on good authority that one of my pranks is somewhat of a school legend to this day.”
For just a second, barely even that, I noticed an odd green light flash in her eyes. Suddenly, Céilí was alert, he full attention on me.
So much like a hawk watching a squirrel scurrying about between tree branches, yet with a sort of familiar look I’d seen in mares before, coupled with something …
Different. Something changeling, would be the best way to describe it.
“Go on,” she purred.
I shrugged. “Well, it involved our flight teacher. Every school in Cloudsdale has one, even though we all know how to fly basically since we’re born,” I said. “More of a formality than anything.”
“To make sure you’re up to snuff.”
“I guess?”
Céilí snorted in amusement. “We had something similar, though always geared toward tricks. We were tasked to disguise ourselves and play a trick without being caught to make sure our imitations were flawless. But go on.”
Unperturbed by her curiosity, I did as asked. “So, we have these flight lessons and our teacher happened to be some infamous pain in the rear named Headwind—fitting really, given how much of a pain one of those is to fly through.” I popped another hoof-full of nuts into my mouth, and resumed my tale while chewing. “During senior year, Headwind goes on some trip in the middle of spring semester. So there’s not really much he can do to stop any of us from graduating, and we’re all sick of him after four years of his yelling and docking points for the dumbest things.” I wrinkled up my snout and growled, “Slipstream! You were a fraction of a degree too tight on that bank, are you trying to cause a mid-air crash? I’m dropping you a letter grade!”
The changeling sputtered on a sip of tea, coughing as she tried to get her breath back. “What?” she rasped. “That’s … that’s just inane!”
“No fooling. And he was like that to all of us, so you can imagine just how much a bunch of high school ponies might grumble about grades getting messed with over that.” My smirk turned positively wicked, enough so that even she raised her brows. “So we set up a distraction to draw the mare who worked the front desk away and I swiped the keys to his office, and raced over before anypony could notice. When I got there, all the colts on the hoofball team had gathered a bunch of flight training equipment along with several blocks of cheese.” At that moment, I couldn’t help it. The memory was just so perfect I had to snicker. “Limburger, to be precise. And his office had an east-facing window …”
I let the sentence hang in the air, a deliberate act, admittedly.
Anytime I told the story, I had to. It was just too much fun watching comprehension dawn across somepony’s face.
Céilí was no exception. Her mouth hung open, either corner tugging into a broad grin. “You,” she said, “are evil, Slipstream.”
I held up a hoof. “I haven’t told you what we used the flight gear for.”
“Oh, true enough. Pardon the interruption.”
Shrugging, I waved her off. “It’s fine. Anyway, we unlocked the door and removed the hinges, then stacked four blocks of limburger in front of the window so it would full exposure. After that, we stacked the flight equipment so it would block the door swinging inward, then put it back on its hinges and locked up. A quick little dash back to the counter, no pony was none the wiser until he came back.” At this point, I was grinning just like the eighteen year old idiot before his parents when they’d found out what I’d done. “Ask me how long that was.”
Again, her brows raised. A matching wicked smirk had slowly spread across her muzzle. “How long?” she asked, her tone heady and flirtatious, just like the day before.
I let her question hang in the air for a few seconds before I replied, “Two weeks.”
Céilí threw back her head, chittering madly in what could only be strange, changeling laughter. “Two weeks?” she repeated. “By the First Mother, that must have been awful when he came back!”
“Between the smell and how long it took to get that door open, he wasn’t tickled. But it was worth every second of the two weeks of detention I got for it.”
“Oh, I would daresay so!” Her eyes glittered approvingly. “Well done, indeed. Although, I must warn you—” a hint of challenge crept into her smile “—if you have any plans of doing the same to me, you’ll find my kind quite good at getting even.”
At that, I snickered. “I’ll keep that in mind.” Another hoof-full of nuts were swallowed down. My hunger was finally beginning to abate. “So, how about you and your sisters? Anything as good as that?”
A snort of amusement came in reply. “As good as? Darling, for your sake, I won’t take that as a slight.” Céilí laid her fork down on the table, finished with her meal, then turned to face me fully, one hoof laid casually upon the table while the other held her cup. “I suppose I can tell you this much about my home—there’s a village where ponies and changelings share a bit of a kinship. They offer us love and, in some cases, companionships, we in turn offer protection and assistance if asked. Our hive is nearby, but we’re welcomed in should we choose to visit and treated like their own.”
I bobbed my head. That seemed rather sensible, if a little strange. Then again, the way she spoke of our kind, it wasn’t entirely out of the realm of possibilities that her fellows might take similar stance.
Even if it seemed plain weird to think of ponies and changelings living together so. At least before recent events in the Badlands Hive.
“With that said, you can imagine we do love to engage our friends with some trickery,” she continued on. “Think of it as a way of us showing love in return—the hives, after all, are rife with it, why should our friends’ village not be?”
Again, I nodded. “Sounds about right. Guessing that’s been a longstanding relationship then.”
The changeling’s smile was as bright and warm as the afternoon sun. “As lasting as Equestria itself.” Before I could even think to wrap my head around that she pressed onward. “Naturally, one of our pastimes as nymphs was to sneak up on our foal friends and trick them into thinking we were someone else, then we’d lure them into a false sense of security, and catch them off-guard with something. No one’s exempt, unless, for instance, it’s someone sick or hurt.”
“Honor amongst thieves, eh?” I quipped.
“Something like that, yes.” If she was bothered my the little jab, she certainly didn’t show any such hint. Her smile didn’t so much as falter. “Well, one year when I was a little nymph—I think I was twelve—there was a rather mouthy colt, an earth pony. Near Hearth’s Warming, he started boasting all around town that he was the only foal who hadn’t been caught by one of our tricks. As you might imagine, word got around to us nymphs, and we weren’t pleased by the implications. Even the adults heard and discussed it with us.”
I rummaged about in my pouch for the last remaining nuts, my feathers fluffing as I said, “Sounds like tricking by committee.”
Céilí gave a noncommittal little waggle of her free hoof. “In a way. It’s more that we tend to try to include everyone we know, so someone claiming they got out of all of our tricks is a challenge of sorts. And boasting about it all around town? Well—” her grin showed a row of sharp, pearly-white teeth “—we came together, all the nymphs and even some of the adults, to talk about it and check to see if he’d really done so. And, wouldn’t you know it, little Redwood had managed to avoid each and every trick somehow. Naturally, we had to do something to rectify this grave error.”
A low chuckle built in my chest. At last, I felt my hoof brush against the last few nuts hidden away in the corner of the pouch. Victory! I withdrew my hoof with about four or five pistachios, eying Céilí with a knowing smirk. “So, how did you correct this, ah, issue then?”
“Well, I volunteered to serve as the lure and came up with a little plan to get him myself.”
“Point in your favor, then,” I said, nodding to acknowledge it. “I only came up with it after somepony mentioned wanting to stick limburger in the office, and everypony knew where the keys were. Just sorta pieced it together.”
“Why, thank you,” she said with a little bow. “How very magnanimous. Anyway, everyone knew Redwood absolutely hated makeup. The texture, seeing it in stores, whatever, even though he really had no reason to need it.” She screwed up her face just as I had, then spoke in a young colt’s voice—not a mock imitation, but an actual colt’s voice. “Ugh! Makeup is for gross fillies! Get that stupid gunk away from me!”
Snorting, I had to hide a smile. Truth be told, I sorta knew where he was coming from—that had been me as a foal too. “How’d you get him then?”
Céilí paused a moment to drain the last bit of her tea, then set it back upon the tray. “Oh, I had him completely off-guard—you see, I simply walked up to him in natural form and talked, all the while, slowly preparing my magic to lay my charm upon him while we walked to a nice little spot by the lake, where my friends were waiting in the trees. Once there, I began to hum, and just …” she trailed off, then made a show of stretching and feigning a yawn. “Mmmm, lulled him right to sleep.”
Oh no. “You used charm magic for a prank?”
“Challenging changelings is a poor decision, Slipstream, dear. It invites us to go above and beyond to make sure you remember what the results are.” Her grin turned vulpine, nearly splitting her face. “When he awoke, poor Redwood was in the middle of town square, all cocooned and stuck to the middle of the road, with a big red bow around him and the most ridiculous, over-the-top makeup job six nymph fillies could manage. And of course, we made certain to get pictures so he’d never live it down.”
An excellent prank, admittedly, despite my aversion to their charms. However, given the culture she was alluding to …
Well, it was a common prank in Cloudsdale to shove another foal off a cloud and watch them panic until they remembered they could fly. I couldn’t exactly claim any moral high ground—I’d been one of the worst offenders.
Chuckling, I popped the last few pistachios and stuffed the pouch back into my hidden pocket. “Yeah, I think I’ll have to concede.”
“Oh?” Her earfins twitched. That vulpine smile somehow took on a more dangerous edge. “And just why might that be?”
I waggled my ears in reply, grinning like a loon. “Because I’d rather not be lulled to sleep and wake up with a bad makeup job done by a bunch of angry changelings.”
For the second time that day, Céilí threw back her head, chittering without abandon. It was odd, alien, and yet pleasant.
After a couple moments of mirth, she wiped a hoof across her eyes and shook her head, still grinning. “Well said, Slipstream. You just might manage to avoid a sticky situation if you ever visit us.” Her eyes glittering, she bowed her head slightly. “Thank you for the meal and conversation. It makes things much more enjoyable when someone will talk.”
“No trouble,” I replied with a nod. “I’d imagine it helps us both pass the time, eh?”
The way she beamed back at me should have been a hint. But, as mom would so grumble after her remark about stallions not thinking with the right head, we did tend to be quite dense at inopportune times.
I daresay that day, I must’ve been more dense than the marble of the castle itself.
An impressive feat, to be true.
On the day of her trial, I brought a rather simple meal. A bowl of hot lentil soup, fresh from the pot, a crispy roll, and—though the smell made me gag at first whiff—fish.
Salmon, to be specific. Evidently, changelings quite enjoyed the occasional fish in their diet—or so Shining Armor claimed. Then again, he did have that young one living in the Empire with he and Princess Cadence, working as their daughter’s nanny no less!
But who was I to judge? If Shining Armor said jump, I would jump. If he wanted Céilí fed before her trial began, then she would be fed.
I spared a nod to my fellow guard, fresh off his shift posted in the hallway, as I passed him by. His replacement fell into step with me so he could open the door to grant my entry. “Er, Céilí?”
From her place on her bed, lounging on her side as had become custom, though with her back turned toward me this time, she flicked an ear fin. Céilí turned to smile over her shoulder at me, I felt butterflies rise to flutter within my belly and chest as if a mere look could make by knees shake. “And what have you brought me today, Slipstream?” Before I could answer, she stopped a mere hoof’s length from me and sniffed. Her earfins twitched, a bright smile, a genuine one rather than her teasing smirk, spread across her muzzle. “Do I smell salmon?”
Nodding, I set the tray down upon the table and tried not to dwell on how nice that smile was—it was almost like any normal mare’s, but with fangs. Very big, sharp, long fangs. “Captain Armor put in the request. He has a young changeling charge in his palace.”
“Does he? And your Princess of Love allows it?”
I shrugged. “I’m told that they care for him and allow him to watch over their daughter. So I would say so.”
Céilí went quiet for a moment, her smile faded away into a pensive frown. “Interesting,” she murmured to herself. “Very interesting.”
“Er …” I coughed. “A bit, yes. But … your food?”
She jolted out of her stupor. “I’m sorry, Slipstream. Just lost in thought.” Flashing a quick smile, she took her seat and picked up her spoon, slurping at the soup in a way which would’ve made my mother tan my hide had I done so in her presence.
But it was hardly my place to lecture Céilí, a full grown changeling mare, on manners. As she took up her fork to sample a bite of salmon, I stepped back from the table to take my place by the wall and tried not to wrinkle my snout or pull any disgusted faces at the sight.
She chewed on the morsel slowly, her eyes fluttered shut while she savored the taste. Her serpentine tongue lashed out, trailing along her lips and the sides of her smooth snout while she let out a deep throaty purr. Once she swallowed, Céilí turned to address me, “Delicious. I’m impressed you ponies cook fish so well.”
“I’ll be sure to pass your compliments on to the cook.” I wouldn’t. He groused incessantly while I waited and complained to everypony in earshot until the sous chef emerged from his office and ordered him to stick a toque in it or find a new job.
Céilí hummed in thanks before taking another bite. “Have you ever tried fish, Slipstream?”
That time, I couldn’t quite stop myself. I blanched, my wings unfurled and ready to fly from the room. “Excuse me?”
“Have you,” she annunciated slowly, “ever tried fish?”
“No. Celestia, no.”
She threw back her head and laughed. “Oh, don’t act like such a hatchling!” she scolded teasingly, beckoning me over with a curl of her hoof. “Come, try a bite.”
I imagine I must have looked like a naughty foal being told to eat his brussels sprouts. “I’d much rather not.”
“Oh, come on, Mister Guard Pony.” She fluttered her lashes at me—when she had shifted them into place, I doubt I’ll ever know. “You might just find you like it.” At the flat look I shot her, she tittered. “Fine, I’ll sweeten the deal—if you don’t like it, I’ll buy you dinner once all this is over.”
That drew a raised brow. “You’re awful certain you’ll be found not guilty. If they rule against you, I won’t be able to collect.”
“I’ve been promised a fair trial—so long as your Princesses keep their word and evaluate all evidence fairly, I have little to fear or lose. On either front.”
What confidence! And such a casual air about her as well!
Enough so that she raised her brows and added, “If you don’t hate it, though, you have to buy me dinner.” Then, she leaned over the table. “Or is the big, strong guard pony, Slipstream, really a squeamish little colt?”
Confound that mare, she knew exactly which buttons to push!
I sighed in surrender. “Fine. But when I don’t, you have to stop teasing me.”
“Silly pony, that simply won’t happen.” Her eyes glittered. “Answering any questions you might have for me might, though. But when I win, I’ll be claiming my prize.”
My ears stood ramrod straight. “And what might that be?” I asked, my heart racing. Shining Armor’s warnings echoed in my ears.
Her smile never faltered. Again, she fluttered her lashes. “A mare has to have her secrets. But, if it sets you at ease, I will promise that it won’t involve any of the nasty things my kind is feared for. In fact, I daresay you’ll enjoy it, squeamish little colt or not.”
So she said, I thought. But there was little harm one taste could do. And it wasn’t like she could’ve tampered with it while I was watching.
The most she would get out of it was a laugh while I spat it out and grumbled obscenities under my breath. And Shining Armor might shake his head when he learned of the incident.
Rolling my eyes, I accepted the fork from her and cut myself the tiniest bit of fish possible, ignored her snickering, and—after a quick apology in advance to my taste buds—took a bite. Slowly, I chewed, blinking as the strange taste played upon my tongue. It wasn’t terrible, yet it was … different. It wasn’t even as strong as I’d expected it to be. Just a sort of unfamiliar taste I couldn’t begin to describe other than that. Just different.
In an oddly good way.
“Well?” she asked.
I passed the fork back to her. “It’s not as bad as I thought,” I admitted. “I … it was okay.”
“I count that as you not disliking it, which means that I was right.” She buzzed her gossamer wings in triumph. Her smile would have lit the night in even the darkest storm. “Told you.”
Sighing again, I shook my head. “Yes, yes, you win.” Eying her a moment, I added, “Now what’s this about a prize?”
Céilí beamed her wings buzzing a short trill. “I’ll save that for my release. A little anticipation to sweeten my victory, I think.”
I flicked my tail in agitation. “I don’t suppose you ever learned not to play with your food?”
Her eyes flashed. “Quite the opposite,” she purred, fixing me with that hooded gaze once more. ”Love always tastes better when my partners are … eager.”
My blood ran cold. Any doubt that I was indeed food to her left me. “I …” I felt the urge to back away slowly, quickly quelled before I could offend her. “Is that why he …”
The smile upon her face fell. Céilí looked down at her bowl, her earfins pinning back against her scalp. “That wasn’t meant to come off quite so dark,” she said softly. “And yes. I did feed on him in small helpings. Little more than a little sip when we shared a kiss, or a long drink while he held me close in bed.” She raised her head, her eyes shone with pleading. For what, I wasn’t sure.
I wasn’t sure what to say. By Celestia, I wasn’t sure what to even think.
After a long moment of heavy silence, I finally found my voice. “That’s going to be rather difficult to sell as a defense,” I muttered.
“Yes. Yes, it will,” she replied, her voice low and quivering. For the first time since meeting, I saw her. Céilí wasn’t so aloof, so confident as she liked me to think. Nor was she certain she would receive equal justice, let alone cleared of the charges levied against her.
Pale blue eyes met mine. She forced herself to smile. “But hoping that your Princesses will hear my side fairly and take my word against his is all I have right now. That, and—” she took a deep breath “—pending their verdict, a dinner date with a handsome stallion.”
It was all a game. All a distraction.
But not for me.
Céilí was utterly terrified, just as anypony would be walking into court where Princess Celestia and Princess Luna presided over their fate.
Just as I would be.
I stepped closer to the table, nudging the tray toward her. “You should eat,” I murmured. “Stress is worse on an empty stomach.”
Her eyes flitted to me. “Mothering me now?” she teased shakily. “Or do all guards get so attached?”
Smiling faintly, I shook my head. “No, but you can’t claim your winnings if you don’t make it through the trial.” I picked up her spoon and offered it to her. “And mom always said a pony should never do anything important without food in your belly. I’d imagine she’d say the same for a changeling, too.”
The way she smiled back at me as she accepted it, her smooth carapace brushing against my hoof, was too infectious to fight.
Three knocks sounded upon the door.
“Twenty minutes, Céilí,” I heard Shining call. “Slipstream, you’re to escort her to the Parliamentary Chambers.”
My ears twitched. The Parliamentary Chambers? It seemed everything was being tossed into a tornado with this whole ordeal.
But it wasn’t my call to make, nor mine to argue.
“Yes, sir,” I called in reply. Turning my attention to Céilí once more, I took note of how her face had fallen, and her hoof had stayed.
Distracting herself again.
I nudged her side with a gentle bump of my elbow. “Eat,” I commanded again. “You need something on your stomach.”
A hesitant smile was her reply. Gathering a spoonful of lentil soup, she said, “Well, I suppose mothers would know best, changeling or pony, no?”
I was glad to see she managed at least to finish her fish, even if the specter of her trial spoiled her enjoyment. If anything, that dinner I owed her could make up for it. Maybe I could find someplace nice for her.
Maybe even a place that served fish.
The walk down to the Parliamentary Chambers was far too long, far too quiet. Though changeling body language was foreign, it didn’t take long for me to pick up on a few of the signs.
There were no teasing words or knowing smirks, no merrily buzzing wings, or flicking stubby tail, let alone that admittedly hypnotic sway she so loved to put in her hips as she sauntered along. I’d half-expected her to take the chance to do so, brushing her hip against mine and fixing me with a sidelong look to see if she could elicit a blush or fluff of my powder blue feathers. All serving as distraction, of course. A chance to amuse herself through my discomfort just before the trial of her life.
I expected all of this. It never came.
Instead, her smooth, chitinous lips were pressed together in a thin line, her steps so stiff and jerky that her fangs seemed to quiver with each she took. But most telling were her eyes.
Her teal eyes were as wide as dinner plates, her white pupils flitting about, taking in each and every detail her surroundings and committing all to memory so she would know where she was. And, I realized, how to escape if necessary.
I stepped closer and dared to unfurl my right wing a little, just enough to offer a supportive touch of my primaries against her shoulder.
Céilí’s gaze flitted to me. She blinked twice, but didn’t speak. She didn’t have to.
I stopped just before the door leading into the chambers. A pair of guards stepped forward to check us—both to ensure she was unharmed, per Shining’s orders, and that neither of us were hiding any weapons. Or, as one eyed me, that I hadn’t fallen to her charms.
“Peppermint,” he murmured.
“No thanks. I’d prefer spearmint,” I replied without hesitation.
He nodded once, then stepped back. “Clean.”
“Clean,” his partner confirmed, backing away from Céilí.
I thanked the pair, then steered my charge toward the door. But before we entered, I slowed my steps just enough to murmur a reminder, “Relax. Make it through this, and I’ll buy you that dinner tonight.”
That genuine smile returned, albeit with a touch of lingering nerves. “If I make it through this,” Céilí replied, “I’m claiming my prize immediately afterward—and, I swear to the First Mother, if you don’t kiss me back, I’ll bite you. Right where your shoulder and neck meet.”
I couldn’t hold back a laugh. “We’ll see,” I said warmly.
We entered the chambers together, no longer guard and prisoner, or even just pony and changeling.
Just Céilí and Slipstream.
