Soft rays of light slipped passed the grey clouds, caressing the city after another long night. The Morning Patrol was a riot of colors darting effortlessly between the great billows, coaxing and guiding the dewy haze to refract a gentle hue. The Sun’s harsh glare was more appropriate for the long, golden afternoons of summer, not a subdued morning like this. Looking out at the sight above him, he could only imagine she agreed.

Horizon nodded solemnly to a muscular, guard-white unicorn that passed along the well-trod path. The stallion wore a dark green set of ceremonial armor, accented with golden filigrees emblazoned upon every surface. He respectfully nodded back at Horizon but didn’t say a word. Wearing that armor, an Honor Guard only had words for one pony.

Horizon’s tail sagged and his ears pinned against his helmet. His own set of dark green and gold armor wore heavily upon him, seemingly gaining weight as the morning dragged on. He had never served as the others had, he had no scars or missing limbs. He hadn’t earned the right to this duty, even if it was his burden to carry.

“She was right,” he chided himself, scuffing his hoofguard against the uneven cobblestone, “She’s always right.”

With a muted curse he turned and backtracked a few paces. It had been a right on Meadowbrook and then a right on Sleepyvale. The small, residential paths that wound thorough the Eastern Terraces of Canterlot were confusing even with the detailed map he had bought. They wove between houses, around ponds and often led to the entrances for the hundreds of city forests that pockmarked the vast capital. Though the large, open roads of the city centers were the arteries of the city’s social commerce; ponies by and large preferred a more relaxed and natural setting if they could afford it.

A brief flash of light drew his eyes to the trunk of an ancient, gnarled oak. The giant stood guard over the entrance to a hedge-lined walkway, carefully overgrown to block a pony’s view from the main path. Inscribed within the bark of the oak using raw, untarnished silver lay the name he had been assigned. It sparkled brilliantly in the subdued morning light, welcoming all to the home of the Breezes

Horizon’s heart hammered beneath his armored chest. There had been so many visits, so many faces that had been scoured into his memory. Each time it became a little easier, a little more practiced. He was getting good at this, a fact he hated himself for.

Past the sentinel oak; the wild hedge gave way to luscious, sprawling gardens. Row upon row of flowers, herbs, and vegetables flanked a winding brick walkway, the end of which lead to a tiny, two-room cottage. Flowering vines of a type Horizon had never seen wove their way along the trellises that encompassed the home. It was a feat of engineering and horticulture worthy of any proud earth pony; however, the slight browning on the edges of the leaves suggested it had been a while since any magic had touched these grounds.

Far too quickly, the solid wooden front door loomed before Horizon. His ears wilted a touch to see the knocker itself was in the shape of two interlocking silver hearts.

Horizon took a final deep, calming breath and knocked, his hoofguard rapping heavily against the happy home. Just like during his drills, he squared his shoulders and tried to project pride, honor, and above all else, a quiet sympathy. Hallmarks of the Equestrian Military.

With a loud creak the door swung open and a butter yellow pegasus with a soft brown mane poked his head out. The stallion’s welcoming grin vanished in an instant and was replaced with wide, shocked eyes.

“Sunny Breeze?” Horizon asked in a calm, magically deep voice.

The stallion whimpered and his ears slowly fell, pinning against his mane. He staggered backward and sagged against the doorjamb as his rear legs buckled beneath him. “I, I’m Sunny,” he croaked, barely able to look Horizon in his eyes.

Horizon bowed his head, nearly touching the floorboards with his muzzle. He spoke softly, “My name is Sergeant Steady Clip of the 5th Solar Guard.” He straightened his neck and returned the stallion’s fearful gaze. “It is my duty to give you this,” He offered Sunny Breeze a small bundle of letters, the top of which was emblazoned with the Crown’s coat of arms.

Tears glistened in Sunny’s eyes as he hesitantly took the bundle and reverently held it against his barrel. “How?” a single sob wracked his body, “What, what happened to her?”

Horizon almost wished he could change everything, almost wished that he could turn back time; but he wouldn’t. All he could do was play the role he hated, the one he deserved.

“Softroot was attacked by two cohorts of Imperials a little over three nights ago. They marched under the cover of a new moon and took the garrison completely by surprise. Our ponies were able to repel the invaders, but the victory came at a great cost.” Horizon took a deep breath to steady himself, “Private Silver Breeze was guarding the wall that night. She was one of the first. Without her and the many others who protected that city, thousands more would have been killed or worse.”

Sunny began to shake as he clutched Silver’s last letters tightly to his chest. A small smile quirked at the edge of his trembling lips as he whispered, “She, she always talked about protecting her family, her friends. Me.” He focused his gaze out onto the gardens, “Silvy is,” his smile fell and he shuddered, “was…”

His dam finally collapsed. With a sobbing cry Sunny Breeze wracked his head with his hooves and stumbled into the house, tripping over his own tail as he slammed the door shut in Horizon’s face.

Horizon swallowed the lump in his throat and turned away from the cottage. His map had shown that there was a secluded glen only three houses down the main path, and that was his goal. A place where he could remove the armor and ball his eyes out.

“…HOLD HIM!”

“…EXPONENTIAL INCREASE! I CAN’T!!”

“JUST… A LIT…”

“CADIE!!!!”

The cool grass soothed Horizon’s puffy, damp cheek. Somewhere nearby loomed the scattered bits and pieces of his armor, but he really couldn’t have cared less. No matter what he did to his set during the day they always, ALWAYS had a fresh one ready and waiting.

The birds chirped in the trees and he could hear a stream babbling quietly nearby. It was a beautiful spot, but it shouldn’t have been. None of this should have ever been.

“Horiiiiizon~” The soft buzz of a feminine voice tickled his ears, eliciting an annoyed groan from himself. He flipped over onto to his other side and shielded his muzzle with a leg, praying to anypony who would listen to just leave him be.

The thrum of a giggle reverberated through the air, “Comeon, Big Guy. We’ve got places to do and things to go. Up! And! At ‘em!”

“Nooo,” he murmured and curled up into a tight ball. “Go ‘way.”

A warm body flopped against his back with an obnoxiously dramatic sigh, “Please don’t make me bite your flank, you leave a bad enough aftertaste as is.” Two needle-like fangs grazed the back of his neck, digging through the thin fur of his coat.

Horizon gasped and shot up from the ground. Fight warred with flight until his sleep-addled mind fully recognized the cheeky changeling rolling on the ground, laughing his heart out.

“Flick?!” Horizon roared as he stomped over to his discarded helmet, giving it a swift kick at his warden and missing by a mile. “God Da– ,“ he paused and took a calming breath before continuing, “Flicker, what are you doing here? I TOLD you to leave me the Tartarus alone today!” He glared at the changeling for a full half second before his brain finally caught up, anger and sorrow thoroughly derailed.

Lounging on the ground, staring back with amber, silted eyes was his… friend. His only friend, only not exactly. The rich, dark chitin and hole patterns were exactly the same as he remembered. Also unchanged were the short-cropped, golden mane and tail. Even the old, white cracks running up and down Flicker’s left foreleg were the same. The only difference was that he was now a she…

‘Changelings are weird,’ he reminded himeslf as he sat back on his haunches, resting a hoof against his suddenly pained forehead. “Ok, ignoring the elephant in the room which I’m sure you’re just dying to tell me about. Why are you here, Flicker?”

“Awww,” she buzzed her wings and giggled, “Aren’t you even the least bit curious?”

“No, I’m not falling for it.” he shook his head as a shudder wracked his spine, “The last time I asked you about ‘changeling business,’ you goaded me into taste testing those emotive toppings your grandmother uses in her bakery. It was only after I tried some compassion that you told me what they were really made of!” Horizon could feel the bile building, his stomach churning at the memory, “Nope, no, I’m done asking. Changelings are weird and do strange things for inexplicable reasons, end of story!”

Flicker bared her fangs, a mischievous gleam in her eyes, “Oh, and who’s fault would that be, huh? I mean, it’s literally written into our nature.” She poked him pointedly with a hoof, “I just can’t help being little ol’ me, which means I can’t really help being others either!” Bright, lime-green fire exploded along her body, obscuring her briefly from view.

Horizon sighed and rubbed his temple. Flicker, just like the rest of his family, was an unabashed showoff through and through. He couldn’t help but wonder if this much exposure to changeling magic over the past year would have any lasting negative effects to his health.

The magic ended as fast as it began, revealing an all too familiar form. The stallion had clear, sky-blue eyes and a short, chestnut mane and tail. His toned but thin body was mottled in shades of tan and white, giving the suggestion that he came from one of the smaller settlements on the outskirts of the Painted Desert. The stallion’s cutiemark though was his plainest feature, if that were even possible. It was just a simple ring, with absolutely no embellishments what so ever. It wasn’t even a three-dimensional depiction, just a thick black line drawn in a perfect circle. And to top it all off was a very average-sized horn.

“Really, Flick? Again?”

“Or maybe,” The stallion continued, completely ignoring Horizon’s bored gaze, “maybe I’ll just be you. I bet I can be a better you than I can be at being me. All I have to do is wallow in self-pity a couple days a week and shelve a few books in the library. Seems pretty easy to me!”

Flicker dramatically gasped and threw his forelegs around Horizon, who was busy massaged both his temples. “Maybe we could be twins!! That would be such an easy sell! I’m too naturally awesome though, so you’ll have to teach me how to stand being you!”

Horizon barked out a laugh and took a swipe at the chuckling pseudo-pony, hitting nothing but air as his friend scampered away. “Fine, whatever,” he huffed, a small smile spreading as he held back another laugh. “Just don’t get me fired for being the ‘copy.’ I actually like working in the Archives.”

Green flames sprouted around Flicker as he returned to his true, male form. “Snoozeville, but because you’re my friend I’ll take your request under advisement.” He lit his horn, surrounding Horizon’s helmet in a weak green light and packed it away in his enchanted saddlebags.

Horizon for his part simply crossed his forelegs and tried to sulk, slightly pissed at not being abysmally depressed anymore. It wasn’t the first time he had envied the changeling for his ability to manipulate moods so easily.

Flicker hesitated briefly before picking up the final bits of discarded armor, “I, I am sorry about barging in today, but I’m actually here in an official capacity.” He patted Horizon’s shoulder and grimaced, “She wants to see you.”

Horizon scowled and scuffed his hoof against the grass, “Where is she?”

“She’s waiting in the next clearing.” Flicker leaned in for a hug, “She didn’t really specify a time so there’s not technically a hurry, but...”

Horizon shrugged out of the hug and sighed, “But it’s best not to keep her waiting. Fine,” he grumbled, “this day has been just wonderful so far. Let’s make it truly memorable.”

Flicker slapped him on the back and trotted toward the trees, “That’s the spirit!” his voice was far too chipper for Horizon’s taste, “Just look at the bright side! If you don’t spend the rest of the day as a bird bath, I’ll buy the drinks.”

“Ha, ha,” Horizon monotoned and trudged after his friend.

The pair picked their way through a dense patch of brambles, giving Horizon’s mind something to do other than worry. Somehow nature always seemed to sooth his mood, and it certainly didn’t hurt to listen to his friend gripe and complain the entire time. According to Flicker, the path was always just past the next tree or hidden behind some bushes. Horizon couldn’t help but chuckle, Flicker never really was an outdoorsy changeling.

Stopping by a quiet brook, Horizon dunked his head into the cool, refreshing water. He held himself there for a few seconds to collect his already frayed wits. “Why now?” he asked as he tried to repress a shiver, “She said I was safe, or relatively at least. Did she change her mind? Was there a deviation?”

He had been paying almost no attention to the news, avoiding the periodicals section at the Archive as much as he could. He didn’t want to know what was happening out in the world, he just needed to know that everything was still afloat. Culture shock, depression, whatever his therapists had called it; he could barely even focus on the now anyways.

He drew his head out of the water and trotted fast to catch up with Flicker, shaking like a dog to dry his mane.

Flicker had stopped by the manicured entrance to a clearing, bowing his head as Horizon caught up. He looked away, awkwardly clearing his throat, “Zen, I…”

“I know,” Horizon interrupted as he glared out into the clearing, “but it can’t be helped, can it?”

“No, but I still hate doing this though.”

Horizon patted his friend’s shoulder and walked out into a field large enough to play hoofball in. The grass was just long enough to tickle his belly and wildflowers dotted the periphery, but it was the activity in the middle of the clearing that held his interest.

Two guard-white stallions wearing shining, golden armor were busy holding up a young maple tree whose trunk was barely a hoof wide, a glorified sapling really. An old earth pony mare knelt at the base of the tree, carefully burying the root ball using only her own hooves. Her coat was a very light shade of grey and her faded pink mane was tied back in a loose bun, keeping it from getting too dirty. Her forelegs were smattered with mud and her brow dripped with sweat, her eyes though were as sharp as an eagle’s and she leveled them against Horizon.

“Just going to stand there?” she grumped before returning to her work.

Horizon sighed and flopped down into the grass on the other side of the tree. He mixed mud with compost under her watchful eye before carefully backfilling the roots. This was not the first time he had planted a tree with her, and he very much doubted it’d be the last.

He cast a glance back at his friend and winced. Flicker sat ramrod straight at full attention, ears fully pinned against his skull. He could almost feel the anger in the air, and he was pretty sure he could hear the changeling grinding his teeth as he sat at attention.

Horizon didn’t think it was very fair either.

“I’m glad that you made at least one friend, though I never really expected it to be your own lie detector,” the old mare chuckled as she finished up her side. She laid down in the grass and propped her head up on a muddy hoof to watch Horizon work.

“Flicker and I reached an understanding months ago. It doesn’t hurt that he knows my history and lets me rant.” He frowned and packed the dirt a little more forcefully.

The old mare stood with a groan, her joints clicking with age. She casually waved a hoof to dismiss her guards and laid back down next to Horizon. “An understanding,” she whispered, never taking her eyes off his work, “I believe I’ve come to one as well, but I want to ask you something,” she hesitated, drawing his eyes to hers. He could almost feel her gaze raking through his soul for the truth, “What have you learned about your world?”

Horizon finished his side of the planting to give himself time to think before answering. He glanced up into the branches of their tree and listened to the gentle rustle of the leaves waving in the wind. He could feel the heat of the sun seep through the short fur on his back. Glancing back, he could just barely make out the Royal Guards’ idle banter as they scanned the tree line.

He dropped his gaze back to his hooves, rubbing the gritty dirt between them. “It’s real,” he looked back at the guards and then into Flicker’s eyes, “They’re all real.”

The old pony held her breath and quirked a brow at Flicker, receiving a small frown and a shallow nod. She sagged against the grass with a relieved laugh, visibly relaxing as she waved the changeling to stand in front of her.

“Lieutenant Flicker Tarte, thank you very much for your service. I am officially relieving you of your current duty and am hereby assigning you to the reserves,” she paused and awarded him a bundle of papers, “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry for what I put you though. I sincerely hope that you’ll continue to help our friend acclimate to his new home, but you’re free to go wherever you wish, within reason of course.” She smiled up at the changeling, “Why don’t you wait over there with the other guards, I still have a few things I need to discuss with your friend.”

Flicker’s eyes bulged in shock as a wide smile threatened to crack his lips. He respectfully bowed to both of them before trotting off with a happy bounce in his step.

Horizon listlessly watched an earthworm slip back into the dirt, desperate to escape the sun, “Now what?”

“Now, now I apologize to you as well.” She leaned against him and draped a large, white wing over his withers. Turning his head, he could see a ring of golden magic ripple along the wing joint where she let the illusion fail.

“Why?” he rested his chin on his muddy hooves, “You were right, I had to learn it the hard way.”

Celestia scowled briefly at her magically clean hooves as she let the rest of her illusion fade, but when she turned to Horizon her magenta eyes shimmered with sympathy, “I’m sorry for a lot of things, but most of all I am sorry for taking you away from your friends and family, your home.”

Horizon’s eyes scrunched closed, “I really wish I’d never written this story…”

The eldest mare bobbed her head and patted his back, “And yet, we’re all still here. I nullified your limiter when I dismissed the Lieutenant.”

Horizon’s eyes went wide and his heart threatened to hammer out of his chest. He held his breath and curled up into as tight a ball as he could, focusing his entire mind on counting to one hundred.

Celestia squeezed him against her side, cooing to the terrified stallion, “Easy Horizon, we’re ok. You’ve learned a lot since you came here. Look around, nothing has changing,” she chuckled.

“W-why,” he stammered as he attempted to control his breathing, “Why would you even risk it after the last time??”

With a gentle touch of her hoof, Celestia tilted his head so she could look directly into his eyes, “Horizon, I’ve been keeping a fairly close eye on you this past year. While you worked as an apprentice nurse, I watched you clean the diapers of both the young and the old without any magic, never complaining even once. I hesitate to call it work, but while you were at the Archive I saw your smile and heard your laughter when reading stories written by my ponies.” She paused and hugged him a little tighter, “You didn’t know it, but I even sat by your side every time you informed a newly widowed pony, and I know how much it hurt.”

She frowned and looked toward the tree line, lost in thought for a moment, “You’re a good pony, and I’m sorry for what I put you through.” Her eyes returned to his and the stare grew hard, boring into his soul, “But make no mistake. I would absolutely, without question, do it again. My ponies and their futures are safe, because you’re here. We trapped our creator in his own creation and tied the causal thread into a loop.” She deflated a bit, “My researchers informed me that we’d fully budded off from your parent universe. We’re safely adrift and no longer teetering on the verge of collapse.”

“I’ve known that I couldn’t go back for a while! It sucks, but I’ve… I’ve dealt with it. But, you? Are you NUTS?” incredulity warred with horror, “No one should be able to do what I did in any sane world!!”

Celestia bit his ear, stunning him into silence, “I’m risking it because you believe in this world, in our ponies. If you had gone on as you were, wishing this world were just a fever dream, it would have become just that. It’s very likely that if you had been unbound and wished hard enough, you would have awoken back on your world and remembered nothing but a lifelike dream. You might have even been able to go back to your old life; but if that had happened, billions would have died, or even worse… we would have never been in the first place.

“We need a creator who believes in his world and in us. You didn’t start off as that pony, but you’ve experienced a lot in the past year and after watching you, I sincerely believe you’ve become him. It’s time for you to learn about yourself and your world, and you can’t do that locked away.” Celestia finished, giving the stallion a quick nuzzle to his poll.

Horizon swallowed hard and hesitantly looked around the field. Not even a blade of grass had shifted since she released the spell, reality for the moment was perfectly stable.

He let out a long, relieved sigh and scooted away from Celestia, frowning up at her “So, what now? You’ve gotta have me on a short leash somehow. Are you planning to dangle my freedom just out of reach and then ask me to try to rewrite the near future? Stop the war before it really gets started? Damnit, Celestia!” he stomped the ground, “I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing!”

The old mare laughed and shook her head, “No my friend, you will do nothing of the sort. My last request for you is to stay out of history, stay out of the war. You need time to grow into your powers as well as learn the art of the horn. Though many ponies will… they will be lost, we will eventually prevail, as you have written.

“Let that buffoon of an alicorn you concocted win his war, free the ‘damsel,’ and bathe in false glory; you have more important things to do,” She smiled and stood, inspecting the tree they had planted.

Horizon stood as well, his eyes narrowed in suspicion, “Like what, exactly?”

Celestia giggled and waved Flicker over, “We took you out of college and I think it’s high time to send you back. What do you know about Baltimare?”

Author's Note

Aaaand we're off!

Feedback is always appreciated!