Truth-telling Lies

by Oneimare

Rating: mature
Tags: Sex, Tragedy, Alternate Universe, Sad, Main 6, Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Other, Romance
Length: 24276

Given a chance to forge her life into something new and wondrous, Rainbow Dash made a wrong choice—a decision that would fester into a hard trial for her and her friends.

Change can’t be denied.
Yet as Rainbow Dash faced a chance to change her life, she refused it in favour of something she desperately wished to be true. Not alone in that mistake, she and her friends would soon begin to realise—such transgressions come with a dire price.

Warning: the comment section may contain spoilers!

Disclaimer

Beware: English isn’t my native language and the rewrite of this story has received no external editing.

‘Truth-telling Lies’ has undergone a rework in 2022, resulting in new chapters added and the old ones rewritten to a varying degree. If you wish to access the original version, please let me know and I’ll provide you with a link to the files.

Originally this story was written as a birthday gift to my friend and that intent still stands. 
Geka, Happy Birthday to you, bro! Without your encouragement, I would have never started writing.

Also, during working on the first iteration of ‘Truth-telling Lies’, I received a lot of help from IAmApe and though he wasn’t involved in the rewriting process, I’m still grateful for his assistance with this story.

Published 2018-11-28 05:40:01 UTC
Last updated 2022-07-10 13:29:20 UTC

Dream

Truth-telling Lies

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Written by: Oneimare

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Dream

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An alarm’s shrill call penetrated Rainbow Dash’s mind, mercilessly yanking the pegasus from the realm of sleep. A hard kick from her hind hoof sent the chiming mechanism rocketing into the wall and beyond; its rousing song faded into the distance.

The night, supposed to let the mare catch on the missed sleep, had left her covered in sweat, tangled in bedsheets and lying with her rear hooves on a pillow. The sense of turmoil lingered in her consciousness like a sordid aftertaste of rotten food, but the visions witnessed at the Dreamscape vanished along with the clock’s hysterics and stubbornly refused to show again.

The cruel warble heralded the start of Rainbow’s training routine; yet minutes had passed and she remained still, her eyes closed—screwed shut as a part of the grimace twisting her face into a grotesque mask of undiluted turmoil.

Anyone who knew Rainbow for at least a week wouldn’t believe in that pegasus being capable of rising before the crack of dawn; yet such was the sacrifice she was willing to commit to. And the altar for the future as a Wonderbolt stayed empty today—not for the first time.

Rolling on her back, she finally opened her eyes—the pools of magenta gazed listlessly at the phlegmatically roiling vaporous ceiling. With no ticking to announce the passage of time, the intelligible echo of her nightmares assaulted her thoughts, becoming unbearable. She glanced at the opened window.

In the deep blue sky, a few lonely clouds floated amidst fading stars, painted in pink and orange pastel hues by the Sun not yet risen; they called for her to join. Her splayed wings twitched with a yearning just as mute and strong, further messing up the bedsheets as they unfurled. A heartbeat later they limped, blue ruffled feathers settling like snow atop mountains of white cloth.

Why bother? I’m going to be stuck in Ponyville until the end of my days, anyhow. A scowl crept back on her face. And for what?

An image of the beautiful violet eyes flashed in Rainbow’s vision—and now she could remember the nightmares.

Her ears flattened against her skull, the pegasus threw the covers away in a violent motion and sat on the edge of the bed, clutching her throbbing head in her hooves; she then dragged them down her face and remained idle for a while, simply breathing in and out the chilly morning air. She flicked her ears and took a deeper breath—something was off.

The humidity… Those slackers didn’t clear all the clouds last night.

Hopping off the mattress, Rainbow let her stiff legs carry her to the window.

Milky wisps had been mutely sneaking through the streets of slumbering Ponyville—the early autumn’s chill touch had knit the moisture in the air into a blanket of mist.

If she were lucky, the blazing sunlight would disperse the fog with the warmth it still brought. Otherwise, it would hide from the incandescence amongst the trees in the Apple family’s orchards, eventually settling on the trunks—rendering them slippery and thus treacherous to buck. And Applejack would be drilling that into Rainbow’s mind every time they met for the following week—if she were to talk to her again after what the pegasus did, or, rather, didn’t do.

With no hope of getting back to sleep, Rainbow could easily spend the rest of the morning sprawled on the bed, watching the Sun rise till it was time to attend the job.

I’m still in charge of the local weather station, she reminded herself. Celestia’s task or not.

An archway led her to the edge of the cloud on which her not-so-modest dwelling had hovered in the vast expanse of the sky. A gust of cold wind tore at her mane, pushing multi-coloured strands into her eyes, but she didn’t even blink. The pegasus took a deep breath and dropped down as if she had been shot.

Rainbow punctured a hole in the cloud, plummeting to the ground below; fluffy tufts clinging to her mane, coat and tail. It looked like she blacked out and was now uncontrollably falling towards the hard, unforgiving earth.

She was taking an improvised shower—the remains of the clouds dispersed on her body leaving drops of cold water behind. The moisture trailed over and after the falling silhouette, creating a very faint rainbow following her in the first rays of the Sun.

As the ground grew closer, the wind flailed at Rainbow stronger and stronger, tossing her mane and ruffling her feathers—drying them. At the very last moment, with a precise flap of her wings, she pulled out of a nose dive, harnessing the turbulence; the tamed momentum sent her zipping above the treetops.

That finally succeeded where the alarm clock had failed. With adrenaline coursing through her veins, a familiar tug pulled on the corner of Rainbow’s lips, stretching them into a smirk. Then the pegasus’ bright wandering gaze fell on the opposite side of the little town, instantly locking on a dark silhouette casting shadow on the somnolent countryside.

A hard sombre expression erased all the traces of her smile and then she, clenching her teeth and laying back her ears, sharply turned to survey the fog coating Ponyville, that sinister shadow remained in her eyes.

The smoky tendrils slithered through the grass and flowers, leaving a trail of dew on the wilted blossoms as if futilely trying to restore the softness of yellowing blades. Rainbow scowled at the amorphous mass that confidently, even if unhurriedly, spread through the quaint quiet morning village.

Foal’s play. She rolled her eyes. It doesn't change the fact that whoever was in charge last night was one huge doofus. Thunderlane, probably—who else is that lazy?

Without hesitation, Rainbow plunged into the maw of thick mist hugging the homes of Ponyville’s denizens. As her nose pierced the veil of moisture, the pegasus sharply twisted, coiling the milky canvas into a miniature tornado trailing behind her. The vapour swallowed the mare, only for her to emerge from the other side of the white wall a few heartbeats later; she then abruptly stopped, spreading her wings wide with a keen snap. Her primaries shredded the fog blindly following her and those vestiges were rapidly dispersed by the Sun’s first golden spears.

Rainbow dashed across the town, hunting down every single hazy wad, mercilessly slicing them with her wings. It wasn’t ten seconds flat, admittedly, yet the incandescent disk hadn’t fully risen over the horizon by the time she paused in mid-air, observing her work.

A few miserable lumps had managed to escape her attention in the deepest of alleys; they sheepishly peeked out as if searching for their fallen kin—those would do no foul.

As soon as the mare approvingly nodded to herself, her mood soured—nothing stood betwixt her and the job anymore. The prospect of meeting a particular pony helped none; it only made things worse—complicated.

And no matter where Rainbow glanced, it always loomed in the corner of her eyes—reminding of her sealed fate with its grotesque design and ominous black colour; the blemish of Ponyville that everybody tried to ignore, yet none had ever prevailed.

Whilst her mind frantically searched for any possible reasons to delay, it was her eyes that brought salvation—they fell onto a more ‘joyous’ sight.

A grimace contorted her already scowling face even further—the idea of visiting Sugarcube Corner depressed her almost as much.

Almost.

Change

Truth-telling Lies

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Written by: Oneimare

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Change

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“Hi,” Twilight greeted Rainbow without looking as the pegasus finally landed.

“Sorry, Twi, haven’t noticed you at first, hehe,” she lied, sheepishly rubbing the back of her head; a faint blush lit up her cheeks and her ears somewhat drooped as she averted her eyes in the fear of them betraying her.

Twilight tore her gaze from the distant view of Ponyville to look through Rainbow; anxiety darkened her beautiful violet eyes and the timid smile on her friend’s lips withered. Before Rainbow had a chance to open her mouth, the unicorn hastily explained, “The Princess is visiting the Golden Oaks and wants all of us present.”

With a dry crack of magic, she disappeared in a purple flash.

Despite Twilight’s abrupt departure leaving an uneasy impression, Rainbow couldn’t help but imagine as she speeded over the thatched roofs—all sorts of incredible adventures to have, vile villains to defeat, ancient artefacts to recover…

Her daydream popped like a soap bubble when she touched the ground in the shadow of the dendritic mighty oak—her eyes instantly fell on the chariot poorly hidden under the boughs laden with buds yet to unfurl. A half a dozen Royal Guards had stood sentinels to the gilded carriage, their stoic visages barely concealing utter boredom—their task amounted to protecting demi-goddess and thwarting the excessive curiosity of passersby.

Doesn’t look like a dire sort of emergency—if it’s an emergency at all.

Pushing the door open, Rainbow found herself in an exceedingly rare situation—she came last. A wide variety of expressions met her entrance: unease, weariness, slight annoyance, not slight annoyance and confusion. The last pervaded almost every muzzle, serving as a foundation for other emotions, regardless of whether it belonged to a unicorn, a pegasus, an earth pony or even an alicorn—either of them.

And like a virulent disease, it had spread through Rainbow’s features as her gaze flittered betwixt the sapped of any life smile practically sliding off of Princess Celestia’s lips and Princess Luna’s mask cracking as something boiled beneath.

Rainbow’s pause at the door started to gain an awkward quality, so, mumbling an apology, she hurried to take place amongst her friends—save for Twilight; the most faithful of students all but clung to Celestia’s leg—and the alicorn did seem like she might need someone to offer her a shoulder.

Her horn still bore a scar where Chrysalis’ attack struck and it was impossible to say if she had recovered or the exhaustion of dealing with the fallout had picked up the torch.

The Princess of the Sun cleared her throat and took a shuddering breath; though it failed to inject her with energy, her hoarse quiet voice nevertheless carried motherly love and soft warmth.

“My dear little ponies,” she began, “I have the most peculiar news to bring to you.”

Whilst Celestia all but radiated tranquillity despite her dimmed state, her sister utterly failed to even mimic that—it was as if a spot of darkness thickened by the white shoulder. That sourness managed to be somewhat vague as the twitches contorting Luna’s features never succeeded to twist it into any telling expression.

The Princess of the Moon stared into space, her icy glower intent on boring a hole at a random spot on the wall; her coat spasmed as if a swarm of gnats pestered the triarch. However, as Rainbow’s indecorous goggling went on, the alicorn fixed her with a glare and she almost cringed from the bitterness brimming in Luna’s cyan eyes.

I won’t be surprised if she turns into Nightmare Moon the next moment.

A cough—one of many—belonging to Celestia returned Rainbow’s attention to the Sun sovereign and as her murmuring voice filled the room once more, the pegasus realised she had overindulged in looking at Luna and letting her imagination roam free.

“...So we decided that those changeling defectors should be given a chance. And what would be a more perfect place for them to settle in than Ponyville?”

The circles under her eyes ruined her smile by bestowing upon it a horrendously forced quality; nor did it help that nobody else smiled—her sister’s face even finally shattered into a grimace at the word ‘we’. At least, unlike the others, Luna didn’t look like she witnessed Celestia grow a second horn.

The first floor of the library turned into a tomb so silent, the hollowed branches creaked in the breeze like the earth itself was splitting apart—and for Rainbow it felt so.

I should say ‘no’, she thought but something rendered her tongue stone.

Rainbow’s gaze dashed betwixt the pale faces of her friends, seeking the answer.

Disgust ruined Rarity’s perfect image, yet underneath her scrunched forehead gears shifted as her rational side pulled the bridle of the unicorn’s emotions—voicing a protest might cost her a chance of becoming renowned as an incredibly charitable designer involved in a grand royal project; flicking her ears back upright—only partially succeeding in that, though—she prepared to listen to what came next.

The horror left only freckles on Applejack’s muzzle, but the longer Rainbow stared into the round emerald eyes, the more she understood—the idea of opposing a Princess terrified that earth pony much more than the prospect of facing the insect-like equines once more.

As much as Pinkie expressed distress, she caused it—somberness left no room for levity, changing her into a different mare so drastically, as if she, herself, had become a changeling. Yet, that thoughtfulness promised no mutiny—resignation borne of wisdom that had no right belonging to a pony laughing that often had also bereaved her of words.

And Fluttershy seemed to be just busy pouring everything she had in herself into an effort of not fainting; that trial might have even started before Celestia had spoken and Rainbow wondered if the pegasus had heard even a single word.

It has to be me.

She then dared to glance at the last pony that could offer her a solution to her conundrum and it all became clear as day. At the same time, Celestia, craftily ignorant or completely blind, announced without missing a beat, “I charge you with overseeing their accommodations, Twilight Sparkle. Over the years you’ve shown your organisation ability. Combined with your progress in studying friendship, I have no doubt—you shall succeed.”

Although her soot-speckled horn didn’t light up, the Sun raised—the mare by her side beamed. The pure bliss and proudness radiating from her eyes disintegrated any traces of shock and horror that had marred it since the first part of Celestia’s speech had begun to sink in; and coming all the way back to the fateful wedding, those expressions had easily shadowed that of her friends, even combined.

I must.

Before she got lost in Twilight’s smile, drowning in those beautiful violet eyes, Rainbow felt something inside her break—but it was too late, anyway.

Celestia’s glazed by fatigue magenta gaze swiftly slid over the room. Behind her, Luna towered, pawing the floor, her mouth opened and brow furrowed; her eyes fell on Twilight, still drunk on her mentor’s attention.

By the time the sisters looked at each other, nothing portended a confrontation betwixt them. And so, shedding soothing benevolence with every blink and breath, the alabaster alicorn addressed the five mares that struggled with accepting the consequences of their silent sacrifice.

“Though I put that task on Twilight’s shoulders only, I know she won’t carry its weight alone—for her strength lies in you. Thank you for being her friends.”

Friends

Truth-telling Lies

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Written by: Oneimare

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Friends

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Her muzzle expressing nothing but gloominess and with her ears pressed back, Rainbow had hunched over a plate. Just like the muffin on it, she sat forlornly; having deliberately chosen the furthest table at the dark corner, despite the clock yet to announce the opening hours.

Seeking distraction from her thoughts, the pegasus tried to focus on Mrs Cake—the mare had busied herself with setting up the display of baked goods so fresh, they still steamed with generous warmth gifted to them by blazing ovens; that redolence only made Rainbow nauseous and she averted her eyes as the sight of pastries threatened to turn her inside out.

Aside from reserved greetings mumbled to each other, the two mares hadn’t exchanged a single word; though, Rainbow sensed a sympathetic glance stolen at her from time to time, wondering why exactly she deserved it; the muffin came as a courtesy of the bakery. So, aside from trying and failing to pretend everything was alright, she searched for the strength to force the pastry down her throat.

Forcing oneself—a quality that had permeated Rainbow’s life for months and she wasn’t the only affected; even Mrs Cake had been taking her sweet time putting the sweets for the oncoming sale. The curse ravaging Ponyville wasn’t the worst part, however—not for the pegasus.

A question had plagued her every moment she stopped concentrating on something, a demand from herself that always waited to pounce from the background of her existence:

Why didn’t I say ‘no’?

The worst part was that she knew the answer.

The following question doubted if her means justified the ends.

Realising her mistake of indulging in idleness, Rainbow heaved herself from the table; her eyes fell on the untouched muffin and the wave of disappointment washed over her, stifling and bitter. She turned away, grimacing, right in time to witness the curls of puffy mane enter the dining space.

The joyous mare bounced and smiled as usual—seemingly; she possessed a subtle stiffness to her spring and the icy shadow flickered deep in her sky-blue eyes.

Indecision borne of habit and current reality clashing nailed Rainbow’s hooves to the floor, though part of her demanded to desert the room the moment Pinkie entered it. Her hesitation soon rendered the option of retreat too obviously rude and so the pegasus tensely watched how the pink mare skipped to her; Pinkie’s springy gait fell into a hesitant trot as she approached.

“Heya, Dashie,” she subduedly greeted her friend; cautious—almost afraid.

Swallowing a sigh, Rainbow sat back at the table.

“Hi,” she muttered, not looking Pinkie in the eyes.

However, her gaze didn’t avoid the pink mare completely and she caught the sprinkle of crumbs, flour and frosting on her vibrant pink coat that betrayed Pinkie responsible for baking this morning; the muffin growing stale before Rainbow—included.

As the silent moments had passed by, the pastry seemed to absorb the gravity of the room, becoming the most important object there. Leaving it untouched as Rainbow planned would surely equal stabbing Pinkie.

Inclining her head, she tentatively bit into the treat.

As expected, it tasted amazing. Though lacking frosting, the spongy and buttery pastry surprised her with the sweetness of chocolate chips.

“I knew you would like it,” Pinkie commented, beaming widely at Rainbow, sparks of genuine mirth dancing in front of the shadows churning in her eyes. Just as suddenly as that light appeared, it was gone. “Could you visit Fluttershy for me tonight, please?”

So is that what this is all about?

Rainbow paused mid-bite as the sugar in her mouth suddenly became ashes; swallowing hard, the mare noted, trying not to come as hostile and desperately reluctant as she felt, “But it’s not my turn today.”

Even with the chasm that divided them now, the thought of any request demanding mandatory exchange of favours or material goods raked her heart.

Is that what we have become?

Understanding flashed in Pinkie’s eyes, yet she uttered, “It… It’s Twilight’s ‘special’ order.”

Thankfully, the notion of her repaying the debt was left unvoiced; it came without saying—like the things used to be once.

Rainbow’s agreement still rang with hollowness and she failed to re-establish eye contact.

“Sure.”

Now finishing the muffin was as possible as doing a Sonic Rainboom backwards; on top of that, the distant voices—yawny greetings—joined the tweets of birds. The working hours were nigh and the inspection wouldn’t be done by itself.

She prepared to leave, but Pinkie’s voice froze her in space.

“Isn’t that..?” she idly wondered, squinting behind the pegasus’ shoulder with an unreadable expression.

By Luna’s teats and Celestia’s ass, let it be not her.

In retrospect, choosing to sit with her back to the door wasn’t the smartest decision.

The deepest indigo, almost jet chitin glistened in the glow of the morning Sun spilling through the doorway; the pale blue eyes overflowed unnaturally, revealing a faceted texture; one gossamer wing twitched nervously, whilst the other clutched a few golden bits as the mare sheepishly looked around.

I don’t want to betray Twilight again.

The moment the changeling noticed the pegasus, her eyes lit up and she excitedly chirped, “Oh, Miss Dash! Good Morning!”

But a heartbeat had passed and she already was by the pegasus’ side—much closer than Rainbow preferred; one might have thought the floor was lined with sizzling embers—Teleta’s hooves refused to stay still, barely containing the urge to prance.

Despite the grim silence that answered her greeting, the chitinous mare’s smile didn’t waver—only stretched wider as her expectant look studied Rainbow’s muzzle.

As Rainbow’s refusal to answer continued, Teleta tried again, gushing, “How are you doing? Are you alright? Do you want a cup of cof—”

“What are you doing here?” the pegasus barked. “The inspection is about to start and you should be near the hive for the roll call.”

“The ‘dormitory’,” Pinkie lifelessly corrected her, earning a glare from Rainbow.

Although ready to snap at her friend, Rainbow bit her tongue—she did care about what Twilight told them and she could already get into trouble; Teleta snitching on her was doubtful, however.

The mare in question visibly deflated, her ears plastering themselves to her oblong skull; she chittered something in her native language, but soon regained her ability to speak in Equestrian, though fumbling with words.

“I… I just wanted…” Further withering under Rainbow’s scathing stare, she went on even quieter, “I thought… you and I…” Her faceted eyes jumped from object to object, stopping at the abandoned muffin and she gave up, dropping her head. “Nevermind.”

Sensing the intense look still boring into her, Teleta defeatedly whickered, “I really should be at the hiv… dorm. Sorry.”

Only when the changeling passed the doors, did Rainbow stop glowering after her. Regret pricked her—that might have increased her chances of having an unpleasant conversation with Twilight; the earful didn’t bother her as much as the genuine disappointment and hurt that would fill the beautiful violet eyes.

Rainbow turned to Pinkie, expecting to be met with the same look or silent judgement. To her surprise, she received nothing but sorrow, though the pegasus couldn’t tell to whom it was addressed—seemingly to everyone.

Grumbling, “See you later,” Rainbow fled Sugarcube Corner without waiting for a reply from the unnervingly sombre mare.

Fun

Truth-telling Lies

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Written by: Oneimare

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Fun

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The pegasus had sat still, the drink clutched in her hoof like the world would end if she let it go—or dared to weaken her grip. In one abrupt motion, the mare threw back her head and poured the mug’s contents down her throat. Unbothered by the beer trickling down her chin, she chugged it with abandon, gulping loudly.

The tankard thundered against the wood.

“It was this bad, huh?”

That somewhat gruff voice belonged to a unicorn mare who materialised by Rainbow’s shoulder as soon as she emptied the mug; even earlier—she sat by the oblivious pegasus’ side, leaning on the counter, patiently watching her.

“Just like the beer—the usual,” came Rainbow’s terse reply; as the unicorn’s stare continued to scorch her face, she felt her ears pressing back against her will. She added, reluctant, “I’m just getting too tired of it.”

The concern didn’t recede from the other mare’s face, but she averted her eyes—only to find the bartender and wave her hoof; whilst Highball poured her a drink, she commented, “Well, I can’t remember the last time you hang with at AJ’s instead of coming here.”

Although the blush crept on Rainbow’s cheeks and the darkness began to fade from her eyes, she still grimaced sourly. Mostly, because she had to lie about why the Apples—Applejack in particular—no longer welcomed her there, “I can’t stand the looks her folks give me—like I’m gonna set their place on fire or something.”

The mare, waiting for her drink to arrive, elbowed her neighbour and nickered. “Like throw up everywhere.”

Almost as soon as she said that, Highball sent a glass sliding across the polished wood; with no time wasted, the unicorn’s magic brought the shot to her mouth.

Rainbow watched the mare from the tail of her eye; then the corners of her lips finally went up.

“Isn’t that your job?”

The unicorn spluttered and coughed as the liquor burst from her nostrils, burning them; she quickly recovered, however, and rubbing her snout, glared daggers at Rainbow—but said nothing, other than, “Anyway, Berry’s here—tonight’s going to be fun.”

They both glanced over their shoulders, but the wine-stained pony had successfully dissolved amidst the patrons that huddled in groups, clinging to the shadow-veiled tables of the modest pub. Though, her voice, followed by a series of neighs, raised over the contentedly muttering crowd, confirming the unicorn’s words.

“Uh-huh,” Rainbow mumbled and slid her tankard back to Highball, gesturing ‘two’ with her pinions. Turning back to her drinking buddy, she smirked. “Fun—until you vomit on me.”

“That was one time!” the mare exploded with indignation.

The pegasus took an exaggerated sniff. “But I can still smell it,” she complained, just as overdramatically.

“Will you stop rubbing it in my face if I buy you a drink?”

Like you rubbed it all over me? But Rainbow swallowed the joke and considered the offer. A heartbeat later she, leaning on the counter, extended her hoof for the unicorn to shake.

“Make it two and we got a deal.”

A strong smell of alcohol heralded Berry Punch’s arrival before she emerged from the shadows, saying, with her eyes lit, “Do I hear somebody taking one for the team?”

Just as she said that, two mugs bumped against Rainbow’s elbow, spilling foam on her hoof. Hesitating not for a heartbeat, she grabbed both and offered one to the purple earth pony, much to her delight.

“Bottoms up, Berry!”

The two mares didn’t tear themselves away from their drinks till there was nothing left but moustaches under their noses.

Berry recovered first, and widely beaming at Rainbow, chuckled, “Rarity, where did you hide your horn?”

The pegasus’ eyes glistened with mischief.

“Why, under my tail, darling!”

The three of them roared with laughter so boisterous, that every head in the pub turned to stare at those tittering mares; none seemed to mind, though—a few whinnies even echoed their amusement.

It was Rainbow, whose peals of merriment died first—something cast a shadow on her face and once more her ears couldn’t hold upright. She bitterly muttered, “But seriously, that mare should pull her head out of her ass sometimes—and watch what comes out of that foul mouth of hers…”

In an instant, her companions were at her sides, their hooves on her shoulders.

“Come on, Dash, you came here to forget that stuff, didn’t you?” Berry tried to sound not too sympathetic as the pegasus forlornly stared at the bottom of her tankard.

“If it was that easy,” she admitted with a sigh.

A hint of disgust contorted her features and her hoof clenched the mug so hard, that the wood groaned. Before it could implode in Rainbow’s grasp, the unicorn took it away and slid it back to the bartender.

“Hey, Highball, put another one on me and make it extra strong!”

“Aw, thanks—” Rainbow began, then abruptly stopped as her eyes widened; blood rushed to her cheeks, but the beer had nothing to do with it

“Willowmane!” the chorus of two throats yelled in her ears—belonging to Berry and the unicorn mare.

Rainbow rubbed the back of her head, chuckling nervously. “Uh… sorry.”

“Nah,” Willowmane dismissed her apology with a wave of her hoof—then hooked it around Rainbow’s neck so their foreheads touched and flashed her a cunning smile. “Now, let’s make sure you won’t remember my name this time either.”

A twelve-legged beast had stumbled down Ponyville’s streets, every step threatening to sprawl the trio of mares on the trampled dirt; heavily leaning on each other’s shoulders, they swayed and careened, more focused on keeping themselves upright than reaching any destination.

It wasn’t helping that one of the hooves barely touched the road—belonging to Berry, it somewhat rhythmically swung a bottle of wine back and forth, whilst its owner hummed a song, oblivious to anything but the discordant melody. Rainbow could also be blamed for compromising the team effort—fully relying on Berry’s side to keep walking, she used the last of her concentration to hoarsely whisper to Willowmane. The poor unicorn, propped against Berry’s other shoulder had no choice but to listen as stopping for even a heartbeat would result in a spectacular crash of all three mares.

“Above how awesome they’re, Willowmane, they’re military,” the pegasus spoke over Berry’s head—or under, depending on the part of the song. “That’s awesome, too, don’t get me wrong.”

“Is there anything that’s not awesome?” the unicorn grumbled; due to Rainbow’s excessive enthusiasm, the weight on her shoulder led to taking an unplanned turn.

“You!”

Rainbow all but choked, snorting on her own joke, rendering Willomane’s task of directing them away from bumping into walls even harder; however, seriousness quickly took back its place on the pegasus’ muzzle (as much as her inebriation allowed) and she went on:

“And it’s all thanks to Nightwing.” She flicked her ears, confused. “Wait, no—Nightwing doesn’t have that much to do with it.”

With a grunt, Willowmane pushed, shouldering the weight of Berry and Rainbow combined; with them having gotten off a collision course, she nickered, “Let me, guess, the first Wonderbolt?”

“The opposite.”

“I thought you were the opposite of Wonderbolts, Dash.”

The pegasus shot her a dark look. “You’re still not awesome.”

“Goodness gracious.”

Ignoring the smug expression on the unicorn’s muzzle, Rainbow continued, slightly raising her voice, “Nightwing was the Captain of the Shadowbolts. She led them even after Nightmare Moon’s banishment, resulting in the decade-long siege of Stalliongrad.”

Willowmane’s eyes glazed for a few moments and she wistfully whinnied, “At Vanhoover, I used to often hang out with a donkey from Stalliongrad. Desert Rose brewed the meanest moonshine I’ve ever tasted—really knew how to distil her stuff.”

Berry’s song abruptly ceased as she got a recollection of her own to tell, her tone just as dreamy, “Have I ever told you how I tried to make my own distillery? Mayor Mare didn’t let me, though. She said I would flood the town with boo—”

“Shut, both of you!” barked the pegasus. “I am telling a story!”

“Dash,” Willomane gasped in a mock shock. “Have you… have you been reading again? And history books, no less!”

“What if I did?” Rainbow bristled in response, but then sagged and her gaze frantically flittered betwixt the night’s shadows. “Listen—don’t tell the girls, okay? I won’t ever hear the end of it; I already had to secure Derpy’s silence with more muffins than I’ve ever seen in my life.”

The earth pony sandwiched betwixt two mares thought for a moment; as her eyes lit up and her lips dissolved into a goofy smile, she practically purred, “What was Derpy doing at your place, hm?”

“Delivering the books, smartass,” the pegasus snapped, slapping the back of Berry’s head with her wing. She then glared at both her companions. “Are you going to listen to me or not?”

“Sure.” Willowmane turned her eyes upward. “What did they do?”

Rainbow frowned. “Who?”

“The Shadowbolts! You were telling a story, remember?”

“Of course, I remember! How could I forget that?”

“You can’t even remember my name,” the unicorn noted with another roll of her eyes, though with no hint of malice in her words.

“Willowmane.” Rainbow glared at her and before any of her companions could disrupt her once more, all but proclaimed, “The Wonderbolts were created in response and they were just as valiant, fast and strong warriors.”

Berry’s eyes sparked with genuine interest; taking a swig from her bottle, she wondered aloud, “How did they beat the Shadowbolts then?”

Finally graced by attention, Rainbow fluffed up her feathers and her answer came out pompously, “Shadowbolts followed their Queen blindly, even after she was no more, fighting in her honour. But the Wonderbolts were loyal to the cause of peace and prosperity of Equestria.”

Willomane squinted at her. “Why did you tell us all that?”

Confusion overtook Rainbow’s features and she hesitated; then, despite the best efforts of her companions, darkness tainted her rosy eyes.

“Just felt it was sort of relevant,” the pegasus uttered, her voice hollow.

Stars twinkled in the sky, giving their last winks to the trio of ponies—the pink milkiness tinged the horizon line. Submerged into the sea of grass, their hooves sprawled as they lay on their backs with their heads nearly touching, the three mares watched the Moon slowly glide across the sky as it was about to finish its journey.

Suddenly, Willomane asked, “Why do you hate them, Dash?”

“I don’t,” Rainbow brusquely replied; then she added more amiably, “They’re funny—to watch. But, you know, it’s not smart to have bugs at your home just because they’re cool.”

The unicorn glanced up to see her glaring at the passing clouds.

“You haven’t convinced me,” she whickered. “Achieved the opposite only.”

Rainbow’s grimace eased, but a frown nevertheless knitted her brows together and her ears became flattened; she quickly spoke, “That’s…that’s not what I meant.” The pegasus then fell silent for some time; finally, the mare continued, her words coming out slowly and unsure, “They’re like us but they’re also different—they live differently and think differently. Nothing’s wrong with that. Twilight just wants them to be the same as us—except they don’t want to and I won’t treat them the same, too.”

“Still sounds like you don’t like them,” Willowmane dryly noted.

“Just because the line’s fine, doesn’t mean it’s not there, alright?” Rainbow snapped at her and bitterly ranted, “I’m cool with them and I don’t think ill of them. But even a foal gets that square stuff doesn’t go into round holes—things get rough when Twilight forces them to do something they can’t inhre…init…inrent—”

“Inherently,” the unicorn corrected her. “By Celestia’s teats, Dash, stop trying to be smart and just admit it—you’re a tribalist.”

“No, I am not!” The pegasus hotly retorted, rising on her elbow to glare at Willowmane. “And there are guys who not only just try to fit but are also good at that, like Tet…Tal…”

“Teleta,” Willowmane deadpanned, cooly meeting Rainbow’s glower. “If you can’t remember names and long words—write them down.”

“Shut up, Willowmane. I was saying those who try to be like us are cool, too.”

Willowmane snorted. “Like us. Every word that leaves that mouth of yours, Dash—every.”

Rainbow fell back on dewy grass, groaning, “Everyone is different and nobody should—can be—forced to like those differences. I told you I wish no harm upon them and I mean it.”

The unicorn waved her hoof in the chilly morning air. “Whatever you say. It’s not like I’m ecstatic to have them hanging around—”

“Hypocrite,” barked Rainbow.

“Colour me impressed—that’s a long word!”

“I hate you so much, Willowmane.”

“I hate myself, too, don’t worry,” the mare mirthlessly neighed and continued with a deep sigh, “I could have become anyone, but ended up being stuck at some countryside shithole, drinking my wasted life away with other sorry losers...”

“Hey!” Berry suddenly woke up from her semi-dozing off state. “I have no regrets about the life I’m living!”

“Not you, Berry, not you.”

Unbeknownst to them, Rainbow lay with her brow furrowed and her eyes bored into the firmament, searching it for answers to her thoughts; the sky showed nothing but the stars fading and flocks of clouds lazily grazing the celestial pastures.

So, she shared her question with Willowmane and Berry, “Maybe that’s where it is? Maybe if we were happier, we would see them not as different?”

Both mares stared at her, their expressions unreadable—Berry’s just confused, though; they exchanged a look. As they came to a silent agreement, a wine-coloured hoof held out the bottle to the unicorn.

“You know what, Dash? That’s actually genius,” Willowmane joyously proclaimed. “Maybe you aren’t so hopeless, after all—let’s drink to that!”

Rules

Truth-telling Lies

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Written by: Oneimare

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Rules

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Rainbow bore witness to how the changelings burrowed into the cold hard soil in an eerie silence, how they cast the dirt into the eldritch emerald fires to mould ridged plates and twisted girders with an appearance of withered flesh and bleached bones. The bug-like equines liquified stone into a paste that had dried into blackish shiny scales not unlike their shiny chitin coats; everything they touched seemed to rot into their likeness—robbed of identity, baleful and preternatural. Wordless, the defectors laboured till the Sun bled its fading light upon the dark and sinister form of the hive.

Every fibre of Rainbow’s being violently protested each time she tried to follow Twilight’s instructions and name that abhorrent anthill a dormitory, for even though the mare oversaw its constructions, it still felt like the warped structure harboured malevolence hiding in plain sight.

The worst aspect of that so-called building was in it barely surpassing the town hall, meaning that to accommodate over two hundred residents it would have to heavily rely on utilising underground passages.

The pegasus stood, staring with a mix of disgust and hatred at the gates into the realm of subterrene nightmares, knowing that she would have to dive into those morbid ducts.

The cramped hot tunnels seemed to change every time, always presenting themselves as a maze of ribbed black walls perpetually slick with excessive humidity; or maybe the dark surfaces themselves oozed the oily treacherous film. Only alcohol seemed potent enough to wash away not only the pungent smell of rotting chitin but the sensation of scuttling shadows jittering where they shouldn’t be.

“You’re early today.”

Twilight’s comment all but launched the pegasus rocketing in the sky; her hackles raised and feathers ruffled, Rainbow turned to the unicorn, yet choked on her words—be those of greeting of indignation.

She couldn’t help but recall, again, how her reluctance had led to oversleeping the weekly inspection; the look on Twilight’s face, who patiently waited for Rainbow to arrive for more than an hour pierced her heart like a rusty nail. Since then Twilight always complimented her friend on sticking to the schedule with nothing but a smile or a genuine comment, her innocent grim viciously tearing on the festering memory.

“Oh, yeah. Morning to you too,” the pegasus finally regained her ability to speak.

The lack of her enthusiasm flew over Twilight’s head, whose muzzle was glued to a long checklist. Nevertheless, Rainbow silently cursed herself; then again—she used to somewhat enjoy those revisions because they gave her a legitimate reason to spend time by Twilight’s side.

Oblivious to the despondence swelling in her friend’s mind, the unicorn chirped, “Ready?”

Rainbow could only nod as she no longer trusted her voice to hide the truth.

The dread of submerging into the ominous earthy depths had debilitated Rainbow to the point she forgot the head count that was to take place before the much-detested journey. She still acutely had sensed the yawning entrance behind her back as her eyes lazily slid from one chitinous visage to another.

“Maestus!” Twilight’s call rang above the murmur of the waking up town.

“Here,” the changeling mare in question answered, taking a step forward; though her voice completely lacked any enthusiasm to the point of being almost mocking, it slipped past Twilight’s attention as the unicorn continued to zealously study the long scroll.

Rainbow let the strange names and chirring responses fade in the background as she longingly stared at the sky—now it looked more enticing than anything in the world… well, almost anything. Lightning-quick her glance at Twilight might have been, she nevertheless felt her cheeks and ears catching on fire; flicking the latter, she wondered if the changelings would notice—but then, they probably wouldn’t mind a snack.

It couldn’t escape her notice how the changelings stood in distinct orderly formation—their military training had shown in everything… just like the fact that they chose to defect. The deeply ingrained strict upbringing and the reluctance to follow that path anymore had mixed weirdly, resulting in even a somewhat amusing display of perpetual confusion present in every aspect of their new lives.

The pegasus’ bored eyes made a full circle and returned to Twilight; now, however, they held only annoyance and a hint of pity.

“Marmor!”

“Present.”

Ears deep in her precious list, she failed to notice that it actually was Maestus again—after being called, the nimble mare dissolved into the ranks of her kith, hiding the burst of verdant flames to later re-emerge as a perfect replica of the burly stallion.

When Maestus met Rainbow’s gaze, the faceted eyes glinted with guilt—but not actual fear; the pegasus slowly blinked, suppressing a sigh. By the time she noticed the changelings covering each other, she couldn’t care any less about what they are up to; though the bug-equines had been doing all kinds—every kind—of things they weren’t supposed to, none of those could be attributed to that of a nefarious nature.

Once more, pity welled in Rainbow’s heart—Twilight had seemed to be blissfully ignorant of her success being only superficial; rigidly enthusiastic, the unicorn shone as a beacon of unfaltering faith in the changelings—but lighting the path for those who had no eyes whilst blinded by it herself.

The pegasus sometimes wondered if Twilight really couldn’t see the changelings being too alien for Ponyville—born for another life—or she would just rather chop her horn off than admit failure to Celestia; even consider the plan designed by the alicorn to be flawed.

To her defence, there were changelings who had stubbornly strived to overcome their nature and—

“Thorax!”

“Good Morning, Miss Sparkle!”

Yeah, like that guy.

Always present… probably because he would never be covered for. It wasn’t that their siblings shunned such changelings for their honest attempts; they just didn’t stand in the way of one another, each doing their thing as two communities with that separation invisible for most—Twilight included.

“Teleta!”

“Hi!”

The mare waved her perforated hoof so energetically, that Rainbow feared it would tear off; the attention she was being given bothered her much more than the potential dismembering, though.

“How’s her progress?”

“Huh?” Rainbow turned to the unicorn, moon-eyed; the question refused to sink in.

“Teleta,” Twilight deadpanned, “the changeling over there?”

Blinking, she glanced at beaming Teleta, at a loss of words; as Twilight squinted portentously, she tried to bid some time by blurting, “Ah, yes.”

Rainbow’s hoof itched with an urge to slap her own face, but she had worse problems as the unicorn’s beautiful violet eyes narrowed further and the corners of her lips began to sag.

“Don’t worry, Miss Sparkle, we’re doing great!” Teleta yelled, successfully ignoring other changelings rolling their eyes and snickering.

Bursting with a sigh of relief, Rainbow watched the shadow leave Twilight’s face the list of names reclaiming her attention.

Thank you.

Then, suddenly, a painful sting twisted the pegasus’ muzzle as a thought went through her mind:

At least someone here is being loyal.

Rainbow clenched her teeth, putting an effort to not also grind them.

Her side rubbed against Twilight, their sweat mixing; then, like a tiny icicle, a drop of moisture landed on her back from the ceiling of the narrow tunnel. She enjoyed the lavender-tinged scent of the unicorn’s mane one moment and caught a whiff of mildew the next.

Walking behind Twilight was always an option, but Rainbow opted out of it, for the glowing orb of magic on the tip of the unicorn’s horn served as the only source of light in the otherwise impenetrable darkness; and the pegasus didn’t want to actually find herself with her muzzle betwixt Twilight’s legs when she would inevitably stumble.

On the other hoof—who would mind? The hive stood empty, beside them; something that gnawed on Rainbow’s mind now and every inspection—a perfect time, if not place, to speak with her friend openly. And every time she had been pressing her jaws together as if her life depended on it.

The unicorn hadn’t minded Rainbow’s feathers whisking her soft velvet coat; she had glued her eyes to the walls of the squalid dwelling, scanning them for any sign of a problem—be it for changelings or caused by them.

The labyrinthian passage abruptly opened into a series of rooms—nests—giving Rainbow a chance to focus on something other than the proximity of Twilight’s body radiating warmth.

And so, she found herself despondently staring at the scant possessions scattered around a deep alcove all but chiselled from stone—hopefully, and not bone as it looked like.

She couldn’t fathom how Twilight had stood the reality of those weekly inspections being but an undeniable testament to their failure.

Following vague guidelines from an alicorn practically dropping dead as she spoke, Twilight had created a needlessly long list of rules; the changelings were eager to accept them, most without even reading.

For example, taking the form of a pony was strictly prohibited; but who would know, especially when there was more than one side interested in that? Not a single changeling had been caught, yet each time Twilight exited the hive with a scowl, a box of make-up kits and perfume bottles on her back.

Rainbow usually carried the other box—full of feathers and claws, mushrooms and flowers, roots and berries. The changelings had procured all sorts of things from the Everfree Forest; though the pegasus didn’t really care about the risks they took, she, for once, agreed with that rule. Whilst some ponies knew the price and dangers of rare ingredients, others believed a mixture of Poison Joke and a manticore’s pubes would boost their allure.

Although she had already spotted a few items that were to give birth to ire in Twilight, pointing that out wasn’t her job—the unicorn used a scanning spell anyhow; Rainbow was to evaluate how tidy the rooms were.

Waste of time, she noted in for the umpteenth time, watching the purple vertical line travelling across the walls and whatnot. They’re masters of deception—if they want to hide something, we’re never finding it.

She left the room without giving it a proper look, absentmindedly scratching a mark on one of Twilight’s lists—the rooms had stood the same for months, no matter how messy.

When Rainbow entered the next living space, she might as well have jumped into a furnace—her body all but kindled like a match. However, the mare remained in one piece and as the initial disorientation had subdued, she found herself staring at Twilight’s flanks, unable to tear her gaze away from the flesh that slightly shook in the wavering glow of unicorn’s magic.

Oh, I know the way to burn that little fat you’ve got from sitting in the library day after day.

Her consciousness teetered on the brink of surrendering to instincts and to make things harder, it only reminded her of how she had feared for her hoof to catch up on something sending her muzzle first right under Twilight’s tail. The pegasus’ hooves pawed the ground, as if looking for something to trip on; though, it was what was happening under her tail to blame for that restlessness.

A titanic effort of will canned back those spilt worms, as Rainbow knew—they came upon the most irrefutable argument proving hopelessness of that whole changeling-harbouring endeavour.

Cadance’s missing gifts made themselves easy to find without any spells—a box with its lid ajar emanated a soft pink halo, casting shadows on the ribbed walls.

Both mares hurried to it.

An insidiously simple wooden crate with the Crystal Empire’s stamp contained within itself six translucent orbs full of swirling arcane energies. One, however, had a crack—a brightly shining jagged line emanating an almost imperceptible vapour that dissipated in the air instantly, leaving after itself the smell of lavender for Rainbow and scent of sunshine for Twilight.

Twilight stared at it longer than necessary, fidgeting and unknowingly teasing Rainbow with those supposed to be subtle twitches. When Rainbow almost dared to beg her to do anything, her horn lit up and ethereal chains entangled the box, cutting off the intoxicating influence of the raw undiluted emotion; only the desires it brought to the surface lingered.

The unicorn then cleared her throat, shifting her hips once more.

“I think we can finish the inspection here,” she murmured, her voice somewhat distant. “Rainbow, could you please take care of those? I need to write a report for Princess Celestia.”

So, that’s what you call them. I wonder what would happen if you actually sent one to her.

Without waiting for the pegasus to answer, Twilight hastily fled the changelings’ quarters, her tail tightly pressed betwixt her legs, leaving Rainbow to forlornly stare at the crate.

Unlike other things not belonging to the hive, it had a very certain rightful place—the storage, where it should be returned along with a few spicy expressions.

Finally being able to let out a deep sigh, Rainbow approached the box, ready to haul it on her back; as her eyes fell on the orb with magic churning inside, from the darkest depths of her mind a thought emerged.

Nah, that’s stupid.

The idea mutinously remained, leaving Rainbow no other choice but to consider it again.

No, that’s stupid and wrong. If I get caught, Twilight would never forgive me.

But the changelings had never been caught, she remembered; or the others.

And so won’t I.

The orbs clinked like chimes as the crate hit the counter.

“You screwed up,” Rainbow proclaimed, her expression sour. “Again.”

The beige unicorn reclining on the chair behind the table so her hooves rested on the rough wood didn’t even bother to look at her, continuing to chew on a toothpick.

“Goodness gracious… You have no idea how boring you’re when sober, Dash.”

“You ain’t buckets of fun yourself—”

Abruptly falling silent, Rainbow stared at the mare—at her mane in particular—but nothing appeared in her mind; the intendant squinted back at her in suspicion.

Something about… trees?

Taking the pegasus’ silence as a sign to continue, the unicorn grumbled, “We both know you don’t care, Dash.” To emphasise her words, she kicked the crate, filling the warehouse with sonorous jingle-jangle.

Damn it, what was her name?

Shaking her head as Rainbow continued to mutely wreck her mind, the intendant spat out the toothpick and rummaged through the papers in the table drawers.

“Here’s the form—fill both copies; leave them on the counter.”

The intendant tossed two sheets of paper in Rainbow’s general direction without looking and continued to dig through the contents of the drawers. Her ministrations produced a muffled sound of empty bottles clinking—it was the pegasus’ turn to shake her head and roll her eyes.

“One of the orbs is cracked,” she dryly noted.

The unicorn finally emerged from under the table with her bounty—a half-empty bottle of apple whiskey. The intendant popped out a cork and shamelessly pulled at the bottle; after taking a mouthful, she offered it to Rainbow, her muzzle twisting as the strong drink rushed to her head.

Rainbow tapped the crate with a hoof, giving the mare a meaningful look.

“Make a note in the margin or something,” the intendant rasped.

Taking another swig from the bottle, she picked up the crate in the unsteady aura of her magic and stumbled towards the storage area. A short time later her voice came from the maze of containers and sacks, “How many are there?”

Of course, she wasn’t going to read the papers. Rainbow rolled her eyes, worrying she might grind them to nought at that rate. If Twilight didn’t read them, I could have left them as is.

“Five,” she yelled.

Getting no response, but suspecting the unicorn would emerge only with the bottle dry, Rainbow had wasted no time filling the form—leaving the copy empty to give the intendant something other to do than guzzle booze like no tomorrow—and left the depot.

Home

Truth-telling Lies

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Written by: Oneimare

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Home

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Once again, Rainbow had found herself staring at the door leading inside the mighty oak. The pegasus knew nobody would arrive after her this time either, yet she had hesitated as if it was her rooted into the soil and not the town’s library.

She will be there… of course, she will—she called… me and the others… but there might come a moment when we’re left alone…

Should I tell her? What should I tell her?

Rainbow barely stopped herself in time from banging her head against the door; though, it might have brought some clarity to her sleep-deprived mind. The question of why she had stood silent the last time she visited that place kept her tossing and turning all night.

Twilight, I want to see you smile—

“Are you going to come in?”

Bringing herself back to the library’s door after the unplanned take-off, Rainbow absentmindedly nodded to Spike; the image of beautiful violet eyes still held her consciousness hostage.

Raising his eyebrow, the dragon tried to meet the pegasus’ gaze. “Is everything alright?”

The memories of inky chitin, sharp fangs and vile magic effortlessly banished the lavender unicorn, leaving not a trace but flooding her thoughts with despair.

“Are you seriously asking that?” she snapped at Spike and immediately bit her tongue.

Yet the dragon didn’t seem to hear her—he shivered, staring in space.

“It can’t be that bad, right?” Worry darkened his emerald eyes; his words had an empty seat meant for hope, “The Princesses wouldn’t give Twilight that task otherwise…”

Against her better judgement, an edge forced itself into Rainbow’s voice. “The Princess, you mean. Have you seen her?”

Spike flinched and the pegasus couldn’t help but mirror him.

Cretin! Celestia is like a mother to him.

“Sorry,” Rainbow mumbled, turning away in shame. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

The dragon’s tone—hard with dark determination—surprised her, “I trust her—you all agreed, too.”

“That we did,” she flatly admitted.

Unable to hold Spike’s burning with conviction gaze—to even stand before his faith in Twilight’s friends, the pegasus pushed the door open.

“Rainbow, where have you been?” Twilight met her with a searing accusation. Without waiting for the answer, she addressed the rest of the mares gathered at the table laden with scrolls, “Alright, let’s begin.”

Everything had faded into a buzz as inside her mind Rainbow painstakingly stacked the cards on top of each other—words meant for Twilight. Yet, time after time the card tower crumbled, not rising even a single story high.

Suddenly, she became aware of the first floor of the library housing only two ponies—and no dragon. Rainbow stared at Twilight, as if she saw her for the first time, the sight taking her breath away.

Lost in her scrolls, the unicorn wouldn’t have noticed if Rainbow had started drooling; she didn’t even raise her head to address the pegasus, “The last volunteer changeling’s name is”—she double-checked her list—“Teleta.”

Who cares about some stupid bug?

Careful to not let her mood slip into her words, Rainbow whinnied, “How am I supposed to know which one of them is Teleta?”

Twilight spared her a glance that turned into a level stare as she deadpanned, “How would you know a new pony arrived in Ponyville?”

Rainbow’s heart skipped a beat as their eyes finally met; Twilight’s, violet and beautiful, obliviously and painfully empty as her mind remained in the world of parchment and ink.

NOW!

“Twilight—”

“If that’s not urgent—you still can catch up with the girls,” the unicorn grumbled without looking, her muzzle burrowed in the scrolls and the quill scratching furiously.

The chair screeched as Rainbow stood up, staring at the floor, her ears angled back. She unclenched her teeth and struggled to keep her voice steady and neutral.

“No, it’s nothing important.”

True to Twilight’s word and her nature, Rainbow had effortlessly reunited with her friends. Not that it posed difficulty as only Rarity seemed to have enough motivation to trot in the direction of the tent camp and not the opposite; and even the fashionista didn’t hurry.

The pegasus expected any of the four mares to comment on her strange behaviour, but their eyes remained misted with more personal worries. Landing to trot by Applejack’s side, she followed the orange mare’s sombre gaze.

Dark forms unnaturally flittered over the tarpaulin mounds, the air humming with their ominous chirring; shadows slunk betwixt and inside the tents, cast by the eerie toxic light; the senseless fragments of disturbing speech wafted from the camp, giving an impression of a coven in the middle of a forbidden ritual.

That Rainbow had expected… though, to a lesser degree; bolstering herself, she pressed forward.

Everything for her smile.

It didn’t absolve her of one problem she couldn’t ignore, however.

“Changelings?” she snorted, her eyes jumping betwixt the chitinous equines. “More like samelings—how am I supposed to tell them one from another?”

“Rainbow!” Rarity hissed like a furious cat. “They might overhear you!”

“An’ so that?” Applejack barked, her voice louder than it was necessary. “Do ye wanna t’first thing ‘m tellin ‘em t’be a lie?”

Rarity winced and as her eyes kept studying the changelings, a grimace of distaste blemishing her features. Before donning a mask of politeness and hospitality, she whispered, glaring at Rainbow and then Applejack, “At least make sure Twilight doesn’t ever overhear you—it would break her heart.”

Whilst the pegasus clamped her jaws so hard, she expected to hear the enamel cracking, the earth pony’s frown only deepened.

Dust raised around the orange mare as she abruptly pivoted, blocking the road; the fire consumed the forest green in her eyes.

“Don’tcha ya think Twilight hafta know the t—”

“Girls,” Pinkie’s voice, though terrifyingly small, it nevertheless cut above the starting argument. “I think Fluttershy—”

A dull thud interrupted her and all but AJ whipped around to gape at Fluttershy sprawled on the dirt, unconscious.

Everyone rushed to her side, bumping into each other only to slam into a barrier of blue magic. Rarity jerked and rubbed her horn as the bubble popped with a sound of shattered glass—but it achieved its goal.

Before anyone could wonder what this was about, she shooed the concerned mares away.

“The poor dear needs some air.”

That failed to convince the two earth ponies and pegasus and their inclination to barge past the alabaster unicorn only waxed when a moan came from a heap of yellow feathers and lanky limbs. But Rarity shielded Fluttershy with her body, resolutely saying, “I’ll take care of everything.”

Still refusing to heed her words, Rainbow and Applejack stepped forward, but then each of them sensed a hoof gently tugging their shoulders—they turned to witness with their wide eyes Pinkie slowly shaking her head.

Her ears flattened against her skull, Rainbow cast her stare back to watch the unicorn helping up her shaking childhood friend.

A pink hoof pulled more insistently and she obliged.

She found neither smile nor frown on Pinkie’s muzzle—only eerie blankness. Applejack, however, scowled with her eyes fixed on the same scene to which the pegasus turned her back; but then she, too, averted her eyes.

Everything for her smile.

Rainbow had wandered the throngs of changelings in tense solitude; daydreaming through the meeting didn’t help her as she had no idea what to do when she had found Teleta.

If I found her.

Somehow, Applejack had managed to conjure enough hospitality to address the miniature swarm, her tone nowhere near hostile even if terse, “Heya, folks. Which one of y’all be Marmor?”

Pinkie, too, had blended in without a hitch—the pink mare looked like an impostor herself, stiff and with joy that retreaded deep into her eyes. At least the Pinkie Sense still guided her—telling her where to look for her charge, Lamina.

Rarity and Fluttershy didn’t join them; Rainbow could swear she had spotted the immaculate coat flashing amidst the sea of chitin, however.

The changelings skittered around the pegasus, sparing her but the briefest of glances as they hurried to settle down before the dark; though she couldn’t help but wonder if it would only make things more comfortable for them.

Faceted eyes reflected the sunset unsettlingly and thin fangs glimmered blood-red in its last rays; the silhouettes of changelings were impossible to tell from the long shadows they cast; gossamer wings whirred and Rainbow’s skin twitched—with phantom stings of gnat bites, even though it was a too early season for those parasites.

Do they feed on me right now?

Suddenly, she itched to flee from the creatures who must have read her better than herself. But if the mare had brought dinner to the camp indeed, none thanked her or even let her know.

Rainbow’s confusion doubled as she realised—she wasn’t the only one confused there. The insect-like equines never stopped, yet their motions often served little to no purpose.

They failed to find a place where to put their belongings, forlornly moving them from a tent to a tent or outside and back. They trotted around or zipped above, asking one another something only to return later and ask more, the lost expression never leaving their sharp snouts. Some just stood, staring around wide-eyed, seemingly on the verge of a breakdown.

The pegasus froze—an emotion she hadn’t expected pricked her heart. Just a twinge, but she stared at the changelings in sympathy.

Like fish in the sky.

Her eyes met that of a random mare and no disgust, fear or anger surged through Rainbow—only pity. She knew not their language, but was sure if she were to ask that changeling what was on her mind the changeling would tell her the same thing she thought:

What am I doing here?

Icy claws gripped Rainbow as her mind continued to follow that track.

We want the same thing, but have no idea how to get that, now that everything has changed.

She continued to stare into the changeling’s teal eyes, unable to tear her gaze away, paralyzed; that mare needn’t green flames to burn her coat away to reveal Rainbow underneath. Then the pegasus screwed her eyelids shut—what if she looked at herself and would see not the cerulean fur but glistening chitin?

Maybe it’s not too late?

When Rainbow’s eyes opened again, they burned with a resolve to get back to the Golden Oaks; yet before her vision adapted back to the remaining daylight, she knew something drastically changed. By the time her mind caught up with her sight, the dark blur sharpened into the toothy grin of a changeling that might want to learn about the concept of personal place.

“Miss Dash!” the changeling all but squealed; her wings thrummed and she shivered, about to burst from delight. “I’m so glad Miss Sparkle assigned me to you—she was so glad I’ve volunteered…”

Too late.

Almost everyone stole a glance at Rainbow as she entered the post office—standing in a line had left them little opportunity for entertainment, after all; and then those ponies did a double-take to stare at the grimace twisting the pegasus muzzle.

The severity of her scowl only waxed as her gaze travelled across the office till it stopped on another pegasus, the mare with a grey coat and straw-coloured mane—who was sitting behind the counter.

Ignoring the protests from the line, Rainbow stomped to the table to bark, “Derpy, there is Teleta?”

She couldn’t tell if the postal mare glared at her or it just was her eyes; either way, her hoof pointed at an earth pony who arranged postcards on a stand, humming to herself.

That ‘pony’ squawked as Rainbow grabbed her by the scruff of her neck, hauling her to the corner, away from the shocked stares of the visitors.

“Teleta,” the pegasus hissed in her ear, “what are you doing!?”

Rainbow cast a quick look at the ponies who gawped at them with avid interest; muttering curses, she dragged the changeling into the staff room. Luckily, it was vacant—not that it would have stopped her.

“Change back to your bug form this instant,” she demanded, rage boiling in her voice.

Teleta cocked her head. “Bug?”

The flood of suffocating panic snuffed out the fires of ire, leaving cold fingers constricting around Rainbow’s throat.

Twilight is going to kill me.

“Your original form,” she still managed to squeeze out of herself. “...Natural?”

The face of the lovely mare before her bore nothing but naive confusion that remained after the jade flames ate her skin away, leaving charcoal chitin. Rainbow forced a sigh of relief to come out as a regular breath.

It was premature anyway, as Teleta spoke in a hurt tone, “But it’s natural for us to change into other creatures.”

“You don’t walk around the hi—” The sigh managed to slip this time, adding intensity to Rainbow’s scowl. “The dormitory. You don’t walk around the dormitory as ponies, don’t you?”

If changelings had eyelids, Teleta would have blinked at the pegasus; so she just blankly stared at her before whinnying, “That’s because it’s our home.”

A false note in Teleta’s voice echoed in Rainbow’s heart—she wouldn’t be able to sing that song in tune herself.

“Just don’t walk around as a pony, alright?” she mumbled, suddenly weary.

Her ears drooping, Rainbow turned away—too soon.

“Why?” Teleta’s eyes darkened. “The ponies prefer me that way.”

“Wouldn’t it be better if they knew your true self?”

Do ponies prefer a lie over a truth?

Rainbow hoped Teleta wouldn’t sense (and choke on) the bitter regret that surged along with that question, even if the pegasus asked that only of herself; her conscience didn’t stop there.

Wouldn’t it be better if ponies knew my true self?

Teleta didn’t pry into her turmoil—she didn’t seem to be doing that great herself, lamenting, “I’m a changeling—that’s my true self. And… I’m not sure if… I’ll be able to feed…”

Like slapped, Rainbow flinched; she hated how she hated those stabs of sympathy—they poked holes in her unyielding determination, revealing things for what they were.

“Listen, it’s a rule set by Twilight,” she reminded Teleta, but her voice lacked the firmness supposed to accompany such a statement. Taking a breath and closing her eyes shut, she continued, “I’ll talk to—”

Words died in her throat.

Why? Why won’t I talk with Twilight?

The changeling absolved her of answering that, conceding defeatedly, “If Miss Sparkle says so.”

Rainbow softly landed before Twilight’s abode; her hoof froze mid-air, following the theme of her flight to the library—full of the times she had almost changed her mind.

The image of the changeling slumping, her ribs showing even in the dim lighting of the staff room, had haunted her dreams and every waking moment. She kept clinging to the hope that things would improve, but as the days had gone by and the ponies had shunned the chitinous pony to the point the flow of visitors to the post office had dwindled in half…

The pegasus knocked. Nobody answered.

Nevertheless, Rainbow pushed the door—and it yielded; deciding to wait for Twilight’s inevitable return the mare plopped down into one of those comfortable reading chairs. As the silence took reign over the reading space, she flicked her ears—reached by the gentle sound of snoring muffled by a door.

Against her better judgement, Rainbow crept up the stairs and once again paused—stopped by common decency that demanded to not watch ponies sleep, even if she was being quiet enough to not wake them.

And then she snuck into Twilight’s room.

The unicorn had fallen asleep at the table, drooling on the mound of scrolls serving her as a pillow. Rainbow turned away, but then curiously pulled her tail and she, on the tips of her hooves, approached her slumbering friend.

Her heart fluttered as she breathed deeply the scent of lavender and book dust, but immense guilt followed that pleasure.

That’s almost disgusting.

For a brief moment, the pegasus contemplated covering Twilight’s shoulders with a throw blanket—if only to rectify her weakness; then something caught her eye—a Royal Seal.

Leaning over the unicorn sprawled on parchment, she squinted at the squiggly lines that had no right belonging to a thousand years old alicorn—neither of them. To her surprise, the missive came from under Cadance’s quill and its contents removed the weight from her shoulders—Teleta wouldn’t starve, after all.

Preparing to leave not just the study but the library, Rainbow started to turn away when the scrolls once more snagged her attention like hooks would do a cloth.

The very parchment upon which Twilight dreamt flashed at the pegasus with the words she had never expected to see in the vicinity of the chaste unicorn, more so written by her. Rainbow’s brows climbed higher and higher as her eyes explored the lines of text peeking from under Twilight mane—a story that revolved about two characters: its author and the certain alicorn of white coat.

Suddenly Rainbow became aware of one of Twilight’s hooves snaking under the table, clenched betwixt the purple thighs; and she understood why the aroma of lavender was so sweet.

Ablaze with shame, she hastily fled the room.

But amidst that fire of embarrassment a chip of ice lodged itself into her heart.

A race where only first place matters.

The post office met Rainbow with the emptiness of a lunch break, letting her head for Derpy without the risk of the customers rioting. At the same time, the circumstances of her visit also lowered her chances to avoid Teleta’s attention and to be done with her task without interacting with the overbearing chitinous equine.

“Miss Dash!” the changeling chirped, nimbly intercepting Rainbow.

Her eyes narrow at Teleta. That’s too much enthusiasm even for her.

The pegasus tried to catch Derpy’s eyes—one of them, at least—but instead had found a multifaceted glowing gaze filling her vision. Its owner sweetly asked, “Is everything alright, Miss Dash?”

“I should ask you that.” Rainbow squinted at her from under furrowed brows, then demanded, her voice icy-cold, “Why won’t you let me see Derpy?”

Teleta stared at her hooves.

“Everything’s okay, Rainbow,” Derpy called from the other end of the office, rushing to them. Approaching closer, she added with an awkward smile, “She just scared me a bit, that’s all.”

Rainbow’s burning gaze pinned the changeling to the floor.

“What did you do?” she growled.

Despite her anger, Rainbow couldn’t help but sense a wave of relief upon seeing Teleta’s ribs no longer protruding so sharply through her chitin coat. Still, the fear-shrunk mare all but writhed under her withering glare and she expected the changeling to turn invisible or flee any moment.

Teleta did neither; surprising Rainbow, she steadily met her gaze to admit, “I wanted to help move bigger parcels and changed into a minotaur.”

Stifling an urge to groan and too tired to feel anything but dull annoyance, Rainbow flatly reminded her, “Didn’t I tell you not to change?”

Derpy stood betwixt them, putting her hoof on the pegasus’s shoulder.

“Rainbow, it’s fine,” she neighed. “No harm done.”

I owe that mare more than just for that one delivery. Making a mental note to swing by Sugarcube Corner later, Rainbow turned to the changeling, preparing to give another lecture—not as scathing as she planned, but admonishing nonetheless.

Eyes, wide with confusion and hurt, stared at her; for a heartbeat, Rainbow got an impression that she—or Derpy—stabbed the changeling.

“I… I don’t understand…” Teleta stammered, “You told me to not turn into ponies and I didn’t!”

Rainbow stared back, her skin twitching and her heart tearing in two as she knew—there was only one way she could act.

Everything about it—I hate it.

“Just…” Every word had to be forced out. “Just make sure you don’t scare anyone again… alright?”

I’m not checking on Teleta ever again—should have taken an example from the others weeks ago.

I’m not betraying Twilight again, no matter what.

She abruptly pivoted to marsh from the postal office, blind to Teleta’s smiling so hard, her eyes brimmed with tears.

Love

Truth-telling Lies

=================================

Written by: Oneimare

=================================

Love

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“Hello again.”

“Oh, Miss Dash!” Teleta greeted the pegasus, jovial as ever; abandoning her task of sorting letters, she flittered to her. “How did the inspection go?”

Confiscating the stuff you’re prohibited to have from your disgusting stinking hole in the dirt. Being teased by the hottest mare around without her even realising it.

“Awesome. Your room was the cleanest, as always.” Rainbow then hooked her hoof over the changeling’s shoulder, startling her—I better get used to how it feels now—and looked around, making sure Derpy stayed out of the earshot. “And since you’re doing so well, it’s time for you to move on to the next level.”

Teleta’s eyes lit up and she beamed at Rainbow, who mirrored her expression.

“Really?”

For a master of deception, she is so gullible, that’s almost not funny.

“As your…”—Rainbow twirled her hoof in the air—“...teacher, I’m sure of it. You’re ready for lessons in advanced friendship.”

Teleta clopped her hooves, staring at the pegasus expectantly and with devotion. ”What is going to be my first lesson?”

The question caught Rainbow off guard, but she didn’t show it. Even better, she’s basically playing along.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” the pegasus nickered with a wink. “Come to my place after your shift.”

A shadow of uncertainty glimpsed in Teleta’s eyes.

“What about the ‘curfew’?”

“Twilight says there is no such a thing,” Rainbow dismissed her worry with a smile. “My invitation is a good enough reason to be on the streets after the sunset, isn’t it?”

After a heartbeat of consideration, Teleta nodded energetically.

Too easy.

Rainbow emerged back into the room, offering one of the steaming mugs to Teleta. The changeling immediately clutched it—lacking a plumage, she had a hard time fighting off the cold so high in the autumn sky with the Sun had almost set.

The pegasus then took place by her guest on the couch, their sides nearly brushing, and took a sip of the tea.

Impatient, Teleta shifted and then tried to sate her curiosity, “So, what’s the lesson going to be about?”

Burning her lips and tongue, Rainbow took a longer draught of her drink. Finally, she gave an answer, “Close interpony relations.”

Smooth, Rainbow, very smooth.

A blanket of thick silence settled on the shoulders of the two mares. Whilst Rainbow pretended to enjoy the bitter brown liquid, Teleta nervously glanced around till she gave up and timidly whickered, “Um… what am I supposed to do?”

Donning her best poker face, the pegasus nonchalantly explained, “Well, it’s about close relations, so you have to take the form of somepony close to me, like, I dunno... Twilight Sparkle.”

Teleta turned into a statue—metaphorical.

“But-but you told me… the rules… by Miss Sparkle herself…” she stammered, staring at Rainbow in utter confusion, her words mixing with the clicks of her native language.

Though it suddenly became much harder, Rainbow kept her cool, noting, “It’s only for the lesson.”

“I-I’m not really sure…”

“Teleta,” Rainbow began, scooting closer to her, “Twilight herself appointed you to be my student—she knows what she’s doing. And if she gave this task to me she knows what I’m doing, too.”

I can’t even start to imagine what would happen if Twilight learns what I’m doing.

The changeling said nothing, nor did she turn into the lavender unicorn; Rainbow had prepared for such a turn of events.

“I was supposed to give you this only after the lesson.” Her hoof slid betwixt the cushions to produce the iridescent crystal sphere to cast its enticing pink glow on the two mares. “But, you know…”

Teleta’s eyes instantly fixed the orb. She then averted her hungry gaze and brilliant viridian flames engulfed her gaunt frame.

Rainbow barely held herself back from gaping at the pony sitting by her side. I can’t tell the difference—not until I take a closer look.

“What should I do now?” the changeling asked in a voice borrowed—also hollow.

Yes, what now? Rainbow had to admit to herself she hadn’t planned that far. Should I just give her the gem and do whatever I want, like they say it works with the other changelings? But she isn’t like the other ones… Does she even know what’s going on now?

“Now we try to interact like you are Twilight, my very close friend,” Rainbow suggested, trying to sound confident in her own idea.

Teleta remained unmoving, save for tiny trembles that rocked her stolen body.

Their eyes locked and the contact lasted longer than necessary; as the tension became almost palpable, Rainbow suddenly leaned in to nuzzle the changeling. Startled, Teleta jerked back but then carefully returned the gesture.

Almost never indulging in such kinds of interactions, Rainbow couldn’t tell if that was how Twilight’s coat should feel; she basked in its silkiness anyway. The velvet fur bore no residing scent of lavender shampoo and old books—but this time she could touch it.

As Rainbow continued to rub her muzzle against Teleta’s cheek—far longer than any friend would do—the changeling remained stiff, weakly moving her head in a half-hearted attempt to repeat the pegasus’ affection.

She didn’t resist when Rainbow advanced—grinning deviously, embraced the slightly shivering mare in her wings. Shifting her head upwards, the pegasus reached for the tilted ear to nip on it; the following gasp didn’t stop her, however—sensitive skin on Teleta’s neck fell victim to her lips and teeth next.

Her motions rigid, the changeling embraced the blue mare with hooves that didn’t belong to her as Rainbow continued to carefully nibble Teleta’s neck till she reached the rapidly rising and falling chest. Her tongue traced her path back, eliciting another shuddered gasp—and a low moan.

Half-lidded eyes and those brimming with hunger interlocked. The panting breaths mixed for a heartbeat before the craving mouths, too, locked together.

As the mares’ tongues danced a fierce tango, Rainbow patience died in its flames. She pushed Teleta onto the couch only to loom over her; a panicked expression flashed in the uni… changeling’s eyes, but the wings encasing her in tight embrace banished that uncertainty—Teleta returned it with her hooves, more steadily this time.

Their lips met once again, now accompanied by a soft moan coming from Twilight’s doppelganger. Smirking without breaking the liplock, Rainbow gently pressed her knee to the disguised changeling’s nethers. The grasp of hooves holding her turned into a firm grip.

Breaking the kiss to the Teleta’s disappointment—a dissatisfied purr—the pegasus rocked back and forth, so their pressed together bodies rubbed; then she let herself keep sliding down till her muzzle rested above the soft mounds of the changeling’s teats—impatient to proceed further down, Rainbow nevertheless couldn’t deny them fair treatment.

Her muzzle traced the smooth skin, starting from the outer edge and stopping only when she reached the top to give the nipples a mild pinch, followed by a few moments of sucking. The mare beneath her squirmed, cooing in satisfaction.

Leaving a string of saliva hanging in the air, Rainbow finally reached her destination—the glistening beauty of Twilight Sparkle’s marehood.

But a split hair separated Rainbow’s lips from touching the changeling’s; she breathed deeply, drinking in the thick aroma of arousal and exhaled through her mouth to produce a shudder from Teleta. With that, the pegasus’ newly found patience evaporated and the tip of her tongue pressed to the wet folds, spreading them.

Teleta arched her back and uttered a muffled groan as she bit into the pillow.

Without a pause, Rainbow slowly slid her tongue up, replacing the sweet juices with her saliva and before long she reached the focal point of Teleta’s pleasure—readily revealing itself with a playful wink. She flicked that swelled bundle of nerves, making the mare moan even louder, and then, giving her not a moment of respite, gently nipped it with her lips. The changeling arched her back even further and rolled her eyes; by that moment she was unable to produce any more moans—only to gasp for air.

Rainbow went on and on, caressing the junction of Teleta’s thighs, varying betwixt lapping on the pool of moisture and diving in it in attempts to reach as deeply as possible. Nor did she spare the glistening crowning jewel, hiding in the folds and showing itself on its own volition; licked and nipped, kissed or simply avoided with an intent of building the desire—each self-willed emergence granted a wave of pleasure to its master.

Gentle and rough, the pegasus unleashed months of pent-up want on Teleta’s most private parts in a ceaseless onslaught, holding the twitching lavender legs fast in their place, pressed firmly to the sofa.

Engrossed in her siege, the blue mare failed to notice the body in her clutches moving up till it suddenly escaped and two hooves pressed into her shoulders, pushing her back into the position their owner was in moments before. To make Rainbow more cooperative, Teleta all but kissed the pegasus’ ear, whispering in a sultry hoarse voice, “Let me…”

And with that came Rainbow’s turn to moan into the pillows.

Though Teleta couldn’t copy the assertiveness of her partner, the pegasus soon discovered that her tongue featured inequine length and flexibility—the true nature of the deeply enjoyed qualities incinerated by the heat of the moment. Writhing, it studied the furthest corners of Rainbow’s inner world; it didn’t stay inside her only—the agile thin muscle more than once coiled itself around the pink pearl, squeezing and twisting it in its hot, wet and tight grasp.

Yelling and moaning loudly, Rainbow eagerly reacted to every motion; strangely enough, as the action grew more intense, the more coherent the sounds leaving the pegasus lips had become. Staring as curt encouraging comments, they rang more frequently, interspersed with yelps of pleasure, till she sharply moaned:

“Oh, Twilight, I love you!”

Her back arched in sheer ecstasy as she revelled in the dream; to her dismay, Twilight didn’t just pause, she fully retracted her wondrous tongue and removed her muzzle from betwixt Rainbow’s legs.

Yet she waited, imagining magic or hooves would replace the unicorn’s mouth—instead, drops fell on her crotch.

Is she drooling on me?

The pegasus rose on her elbow to take a look.

Tears dripped from the changeling’s chin.

Their eyes met—the puzzled magenta and pained green ones.

Before Rainbow could say or do anything, a ball of jade fire hurdled itself from the couch at the door.

Kindness

Truth-telling Lies

=================================

Written by: Oneimare

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Kindness

=================================

Rainbow stared at the rectangle of the evening sky.

Scattered by the passionate action, fragments of her mind congregated to comprehend the reality that no longer seemed like a dream; her ears angled back.

A nightmare.

Abruptly rising from the couch to stand on the cloud-soft floor she peered into the opened door; the sweat-stained bed sheets clung to her ruffled feathers and matter fur.

The doorframe cut into the darkening blue, showing nothing but the wall of colour without a single blemish—be it a fluffy cloud or jagged chitin. The changelings couldn’t boast of being fast fliers, certainly not to Rainbow Dash; but something told her Teleta wouldn’t be open to the conversation right now.

Like snakes, the dirty and cold cloth coiled around Rainbow’s sticky body, suffocating her with both its fabric and stench of her lust; her eyes fell on the coach, fixed on the dark spots—some of them were tears.

Why?

Unable to answer, she drudged to the bathroom, stumbled past the sink and straight to the shower.

The cold water cascaded down Rainbow’s body as she stood under the small cloud raining down on her. It might as well rain on a statue. Her mind, however, didn’t rest, wrecking itself over the riddle.

What went wrong?

Teleta was receiving love, as she needed—she was going to get that gem after and bring it to the hive for her friends or use it for herself, whatever.

I was getting what I wanted.

It was a win for everypony… right?

Those words repeated themselves in her mind like a broken record till she noticed—nothing with them was wrong.

Rainbow did receive what she wanted. Teleta did get what she needed.

But not overwise.

As on cue, the cloud dripped the last of its tears for the heinous thing that took place in the next room and the pegasus staggered out of the shower.

Her eyes caught a mare in the mirror—she didn’t recognise her; it wasn’t even a pony—something abominable. Bile rose in her throat.

Screaming, she shattered the glass and, panting, watched as in the sink her blood mixed with tears; not of pain—not of physical, at least. Still, she couldn’t escape herself—a shattered pony gazed at her from the razor-sharp slivers, undiluted hatred and disgust and despair burning in her eyes.

What have I done?

How many things she had been chanting in her head for months, failing to see those nuances that mattered the most?

What have I done with my life?

Her mind conjured back the soft caressing touch of Teleta’s hooves; the reluctance and then excitement as the changeling, too, entered the dream, not knowing that Rainbow had already defiled it.

She was drunk on my love—she forgot that I cared only for the form, not what was under that lavender mask.

And then Rainbow burst that bubble of sweet self-abandon, reminding Teleta that it all was but a spectacle.

But the spectacle continues and I have to continue to play my role.

Her bleeding hooves carefully picked the shards one by one, staking them at the edge of the sink; the shattered mare disappeared and when Rainbow glanced up, a faceless void of the wooden board met her exhausted gaze.

Suddenly, a pair of beautiful violet eyes lovingly looked back—visitors from her fresh memories—the facsimile she forced Teleta to don; it was the eyes she fell in love with, but… were it actually Teleta’s or Twilight’s eyes?

I wronged both.

Not as much realisation—she always knew—but the inability to deny reality no longer crashed down on her like the sky.

Her betrayal of Twilight took place when she stood silent in the library to grovel before the unicorn mare, no different from how Twilight had fawned over her mentor; the resemblance seared Rainbow’s heart. They perfectly matched—two mares, whose unrequited love had festered into dreams of something twisted.

And she had bartered her loyalty for that—for a mare that no longer existed.

No—I sacrificed it for a mare that never existed.

Would I have abandoned my friend if Teleta didn’t flee?

The question scorched Rainbow’s consciousness; refusing to acknowledge the no less torturing answer, she landed and slowly trotted through the wilting overgrown meadow, climbing the shallow incline. Her hooves carried her through the long grass that had claimed the already rarely-trodden path; the grass that didn’t rustle with the waking nocturnal life, nor with the animals ceding that place to it.

Only when the pegasus finally overpowered the tangle of brambles that had crept up to the cottage door, did a tiny sound reach her hearing, coming from behind the wood with its paint peeling off.

“Fluttershy?” softly called Rainbow, not daring to knock; partially from the fear that the exposed planks might not be able to weather it.

The crying ceased and she had to angle and strain her ears to catch the answer that came as if a breeze carried it, barely audible, “Come on in.”

The hinges creaked. The pegasus peered into the darkness till her eyes made out a form huddled on the couch; mournfully silent animal shadows quivered about that spot of subdued pink and yellow, letting Rainbow pass.

As if that would break some sacred rule, Rainbow tried to make no sound as she approached her friend; like snow, she settled on the springy cushions and, without a single word, wrapped her hooves around the shivering mare.

Instantly, Fluttershy pressed—flung—herself at her chest; in no time, Rainbow felt wetness matting her fur. Sniffles, sharp and unpleasant and quiet—like glass shattering—cut into the cool night air.

Eventually, they grew softer and softer; the damp spot on the blue pegasus’ coat stopped spreading and the weight pressing on her shoulder had grown. Mustering all the gentleness she possessed, as if she was about to take hold of the most fragile thing in Equestria, Rainbow shifted, preparing to leave her friend in the merciful embrace of sleep.

Then a voice came from behind the pink curtain of tangled mane.

“I don’t hate them, Rainbow. I don’t hate them. I don’t.”

She tried not to flinch from the desperation that dripped from Fluttershy’s words—the futility of repeating them, vainly hoping it would convince herself at some point; the pain of realising that need in the first place.

Her mouth opened to offer support, though she knew not what to say, but Fluttershy spoke again.

“It’s the nightmares,” she whispered, shuddering and whimpering. “I see her. How she kills the Princess, then us—one by one. How her vile magic strikes Applejack, Pinkie, you—”

Rainbow pressed the shaking mare back to her chest and firmly whickered in the flattened yellow ear, “Don’t even dare to think about it—you know it’s not going to happen.”

They travelled back in time; the feeble crying echoed through the empty cottage till it did no more, leaving the exhausted mare slumped on her friend’s aching shoulder and heart. And as Rainbow again sighed internally that this was over for a night, Fluttershy’s mumbles again chained her back to the cushions.

“I don’t hate them. I don’t hate them,” she chanted in despairing conviction. “But…” Rainbow tensed at the unexpected turn. “I can’t do it anymore, Rainbow.” The blue pegasus turned into a stone that dreaded hearing what came next. “I’m afraid to sleep.”

A web of cracks covered the stoic surface of the pegasus-like statue; Rainbow clenched her teeth so hard, she was sure Fluttershy could hear that in the haunted silence of the suddenly much more dark and forlorn cottage. The blue mare held back the salty cocktail of hatred, fear and pain welling behind her eyelids tightly screwed shut.

Finally, Rainbow was able to open her eyes to the darkness without spilling any of her emotions. Someone spoke in a voice devoid of anything but a determination that couldn’t be reasoned with; it was her, she realised.

“We have to talk to Twilight about this.”

Fluttershy pushed her away in one panicked motion and two eyes gleamed reflecting the pale light of the Moon, infusing it with indignation and alarm and despair.

“No! You promised!”

“Fluttershy…” Rainbow rasped, pleading.

“No.”

The blue hooves held the yellow ones, still pressed against Rainbow, as if trying to push her away—despite the need of that sturdy mare to hold her upright. She carefully squeezed them. “But you just said—”

“Enough!” Fluttershy wrenched her out from Rainbow’s grasp; a promise of tears to flow flooded her speech as it grew louder in pitch and volume. “You know I don’t want to talk about this. Why do you keep pressing?”

“Because I care. It tears you apart, we all can see it.”

“We?”

Rainbow recoiled from the venom that all but drenched that single word; wide-eyed she stared in the darkness, seeing the face of her friend but failing to catch Fluttershy’s gaze—only shadows coiled there. Moisture glistened under the moonlight, as it travelled down her grimacing cheeks.

“Fluttershy,” the pegasus said slowly, keeping her voice calm.”When did Rarity come to you last time?”

The cottage knew one nightly visitor at a time—always; Rainbow sometimes thought the couch smelled of exquisite perfume—sometimes.

Is it Rarity lying to herself that this is alright or is it Fluttershy refusing to let her know what’s going on?

The tear-streaked face turned away.

“We’ve met in town,” she tersely muttered.

Someone here is lying; other than me, that is.

Against her best efforts a heavy, tired sigh whistled past Rainbow’s lips.

“I’ll ask AJ to come tomorrow,” was all she could answer.

“Only if she wants to,” Fluttershy meekly responded—an echo of her former self.

None of us wants to.

Casting one last worried look at her friend, Rainbow headed for the door; as her hoof wrapped around the knob, a thought emerged to burn bright enough to banish everything else from her consciousness. Her grip tightened.

Because none of us should have to—such a price is too great.

Generosity

Truth-telling Lies

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Written by: Oneimare

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Generosity

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Rarity stood like an axis of the world—perfectly calm as everything revolved around her; she gestured for her guests to take a seat at the table. However, the tension hung so thickly in the air of the peaceful room at the back of her boutique, that the four other mares moved slowly as if they had to physically wade through it. On some semi-subconscious level they knew that as long as they hesitated, they might enjoy the peace.

The inevitable happened—everyone sat down, Rarity’s ears pressed to her skull and everyone else mirrored that—for a somewhat different reason, though, still knowing what was to come.

“Girls!” Rarity shrieked in an explosion of hysteria, abruptly rising from her seat; her voice broke as she wailed accusingly, “How could you?”

Her scathing teary gaze swept the table.

Pushing back the grimace, Applejack reacted first, “Now, Rarity—”

The white unicorn continued to weep with abandon, “This whole project is so important, why won’t you understand that? That means so much for Twilight, don’t you see?”

Even with the sound muffled by the white cloth an orange hoof hit the table hard enough to draw Rarity’s attention. “All I see ‘s Twilight havin’ no idea what’s goin’ on.”

Applejack immediately regretted that—Rarity loomed over her and the accusations sank their venom-dripping fangs in her ears, “And whose fault is that? All of us were supposed to help Twilight, not do the opposite.”

“Am doin’ all I can,” she neighed back.

But Rarity pressed on without missing a beat, her words cutting deep, “Is it why the group of changelings supposed to be working at Sweet Apple Acres is never seen there?”

“All I can.” Applejack’s response sounded less convincing this time.

“I’m sure you can do better for your friend,” impatiently snapped the fashionista; with that her interest in reprimanding the frowning mare began to ebb and her eyes tried to catch those of the others—with little success.

However, Applejack still had a fight in her, its flame only kindled fiercely by that castigation. “Ye stop draggin’ Twilight’s hap’ness ‘to that. I wanna ‘er t’be happy no less than ye, but what ‘bout us?”

With that, her green eyes tried to follow Rarity’s example and find support in the other three mares about to share her fate; and everypony evaded her all the same.

The purple mane whipped around as the unicorn fixed the orange mare with an icy glare.

“What is wrong with you, Applejack? What makes you so unhappy about the changelings?”

“I—”

“Since they arrived in Ponyville, they haven’t harmed a single pony, haven’t done anything to deserve fear or mistrust.” Horrible sweetness poisoned Rarity’s voice with its silky smoothness. “So why don’t you work with them, Applejack? Maybe you also would prefer to not work with… unicorns or pegasi?”

Letting everybody know she was there and conscious, if barely, Fluttershy gasped.

“Rarity, listen to yourself!” Pinkie Pie bounced from her place; her mane didn’t. Staring in dismay at the stricken earth pony and the unicorn towering over her, she pleaded, “Applejack would never do something like that and you know that.”

In her turn, Applejack slowly rose from her place with her ears flattened, to stand face to face with Rarity.

“Listen ‘ere, sugar cube, I ain’t holdin’ a grudge fer whatcha just said cos we’re ‘ere friends,” she spoke levelly, almost sadly; then her tone got a subtle edge to it. “But if I was ye, I’da be ca’ful ‘bout throwin’ ‘round ‘cusations like that again.”

Rarity opened her mouth, but Applejack repaid her by not letting her speak as she continued, more emotion slipping into her voice with each word, “It ain’t ‘bout what them changelings do—they decent folk s’far‘s it goes—it’sa ‘bout what we do. An’ I ain’t likin’ it, not even a little bit. Twilight’s a smart pony, but even them smartest ponies make them real stupid mistakes. What’s goin’ on right naow ‘s an honest mistake ‘n she hafta know.”

“It’s just a rough patch and if we put more effort in this,” Rarity retorted, hotly, as if it was her project to manage. “Things are going to smooth out before we know it—before Twilight knows.”

“No, they ain’t. It’s only goin’ t’get worse!”

“Says who? The pony who refuses to do her part?”

“Am doin’ all I can,” the orange pony insisted again.

“No you don’t and everybody knows that—you know that. Only Twilight doesn’t… yet.”

Applejack narrowed her eyes.

“Ye’re gonna tell ‘er, innit?”

“No.” Rarity cooly stared at her. “Are you going to help her or not?”

“Don’t put it like that.”

“You know I’m right.”

“No, ye ain’t. Nuffin ‘bout it’s right.”

“So, we’ve come to an impasse.”

With a deep sigh, Applejack all but fell back into her place on an uncomfortable chair; covering her eyes with a hoof and shaking her head, she muttered, “Whate’er ye say, Rarity. Twilight hafta know—the whole thing—‘n ye know that? Let’s ask them others.”

Once more she tried to summon some support from her friends by boring into them with her gaze. The first one who got her attention—Pinkie—hesitated for a heartbeat or two; then her expression hardened into something alien for her face and she turned to Rarity.

“It’s no fun for anypony or any changeling.”

From the corner of her eye, she shot Rainbow a pointed look—a very pointed look.

Pressing her lips together as Applejack’s plan bore fruits, Rarity took her turn; as no amount of looking would help in her case, she called, “Fluttershy?”

Half-submerged under the table and hiding the rest of herself behind her mane, the mare in question answered by mumbling and whimpering a series of incoherent noises.

“Fluttershy, please,” the unicorn insisted, less patiently than she should have.

The pegasus would have disappeared under the table completely, were Pinkie not pat and rub the yellow hunched back; in doing so, sent a warning glare across the room. “Don’t force her, Rarity!”

“I don’t force anyone here—whatever you might think. We all choose freely if we want to help Twilight or stab her in the back.”

This time everybody gasped; even Rainbow couldn’t hold back her shock at Rarity’s choice of words. Furthermore, she felt her own words forming on the tip of her tongue, eager to be thrown at Rarity—who wasn’t as innocent as she wanted to present herself.

But she kept her jaws clamped.

Pinkie’s icy eyes burned her like coals; she stared at the tablecloth like it was the most important thing in the world.

An eye glistened with tears from betwixt the strands of unkempt long pink mane, followed by a half-whisper, half-sob, “Twilight is trying so hard to make it work—we can’t let her down.”

Are we still even friends?

“Rainbow?” Rarity called again, annoyed. “Rainbow, are you listening to us?”

“Yes,” she muttered. “I have nothing to say.”

Applejack was at her side at the moment, trying to look her in the eyes and Rainbow turned her head away; keeping her attention on the pristine cloth, she shivered, realising, Soon there will be nowhere to look without seeing their hurt faces.

“Whatcha ye meanin’, ‘nuffin’?” Applejack all but screamed in her ear.

Leaning away with her ears angled back, Rainbow couldn’t help but meet Pinkie’s eyes—fixing her with utter dismay. Paralysed by that look of debilitating disappointment, Rainbow didn’t care as the farm pony continued to rage, “Ye visit the hive ev’ry week, ye know—”

“That’s enough, Applejack. Two for two and one abstained.”

“What’s that sup’sed t’mean?”

Applejack whipped her head to glower at Rarity, who met the anger with a nearly condescending expression.

“It means we keep things as is,” the unicorn deadpanned. “Though if I were you, I’d share your faith with Fluttershy and I try at least a bit harder.”

The emerald eyes held the hard look for a few long moments, then Applejack turned away with a scowl, whinnying, “Ain’t gonna end well—this all.”

Rainbow continued to feel Pinkie’s sombre look burrowing itself under her twitching skin; grimacing, the pegasus grumbled, quietly, “Don’t look at me like that—I warned you.”

Not quietly enough, however, as Rarity whirled around, her narrowed eyes shooting daggers of sharp sapphire betwixt the two mares.

“Warned about what?” When silence answered her, a note of fury appeared in her demand, “What’s going on?”

“Nuffin,” Applejack grunted, looking at her hooves.

“I wasn’t asking you,” Rarity spared her a snapping reply; her intense gaze then returned to studying Rainbow and Pinkie. “Are you conspiring against me?” She gasped, her face twisting into a mask of horror and disgust. “Against Twilight?”

In the following silence, all mares—save for Fluttershy—exchanged looks fast as flashes of lighting; still, they lasted long enough to carry animosity, reproach and guilt.

Finally, Rarity broke the standstill by proclaiming in a cold voice, “I’m not going to tell you how disappointed I am with this… foalisheness. You’re forgetting that we are in this together. And there is something else to consider—if you want to make some clandestine plans again, just remember—right now Ponyville is housing twenty dozen natural-born spies.”

Honesty

Truth-telling Lies

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Written by: Oneimare

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Honesty

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Upon landing, Rainbow nervously glanced around, as if the apple orchards themselves no longer welcomed her. Exposed by the moonbeams, she all but crept to the warm light spilling from the windows of the house in the heart of Sweet Apple Acres.

Yet, as mere steps divided her from entering the abode of the Apple family, her hooves grew heavy, to the point the pegasus feared for the inhabitants of that edifice to hear her reluctant approach. And so, she veered away from the door, heading for the rearward, where the sturdy trap-door would lead her to the cellar; the contents of the oaken barrels resting in the cool underground space might offer her the something she lacked.

Her muzzle bumped into the leather hat and she bounced back, rubbing her nose.

“Oh, hi, AJ,” she nervously greeted the mare who seemed to be slumbering as she leaned against the ancient wall.

Ever so slowly, Applejack tore her eyes from the ground, but Rainbow wasn’t fated to see them—the brim of the hat concealed the emerald gaze, leaving the pegasus only a pair of lips to guess Applejack’s mood.

They were tightly pressed together.

“I ain’t letting ye there t’night.” Her voice expressed nothing, but the unsaid, “Not aft’r what ye did,” hung in the air like a blade ready to drop on Rainbow’s neck.

The two mares faced each other in awkward silence.

“Can’t say I’m really in the mood tonight, anyway,” Rainbow half-lied, her ears tilted halfway back.

No amount of booze is ever going to bleach that memory away. And do I really need a glass of whiskey to give me confidence?

“Hopefully, ye’re in the mood fer sum talkin’,” Applejack neighed.

“Hey, that’s my line,” Rainbow rasped.

Applejack didn’t smile; she brushed past Rainbow and the pegasus wordlessly trailed her inside the house, tailing the orange mare like a second shadow; stumbling, then they passed the main room on their way to the stairs.

Three ponies sat in the light of the lantern. Whereas gloom Applebloom glanced at Rainbow with some sympathy in her eyes, Big Mac spared her a brief look of judgement and Granny Smith followed her with a scathing glare all the way to the first floor.

When they entered Applejack’s room, its owner didn’t bother to light the lamp on the night table, letting the Moon bathe the floorboards in its silver glow. Leaving Rainbow to awkwardly stand at the entrance, she trotted to one of the squat lockers to rummage through its contents till an unmistakable sound of a glass bottle hitting something hard didn’t reach blue ears; aside from flicking them, the pegasus also quirked her eyebrow, but said nothing.

Without a word herself, Applejack plumped on the floor by her bed, letting her head rest on the mattress and motioned with her hoof to take a seat by her side.

Teeth pulled out the cork with a resounding pop and a strong aroma of aged whiskey hit Rainbow’s nostrils with all the ferocity of hooves that harvested the apples distilled into that fiery spirit. The orange mare took a pull from a bottle and remained silent; Rainbow patiently waited.

“Rarity came by mah place t’day,” Applejack nickered at last, her voice hoarse from the alcohol that had burned her throat—that’s what Rainbow hoped for, at least.

Though Applejack stared at the wall of the room with unfocused eyes, Rainbow shifted uneasily at the implied accusation and tried to defend herself, “I didn’t—”

“She dun sum yellin’ ‘t me,” Applejack interrupted her. “Demanded t’know why I ain’t talki’ t’Twilight no more.”

Rainbow blinked at her. “Wait, you aren’t?”

Applejack took another pull from the bottle, lasting longer this time.

“I weren’t acting no mute, jus’ didn’t wanna lie to ‘er—’n there wudn’t much to say if I wanta t’avoid the truth.” The mouth of the bottle kissed AJ’s lips again. “Apparently, it made Twilight sad.”

“Well—”

Growling like a timberwolf, Applejack flung the bottle at the floor, leaving Rainbow shell-shocked as the wave of stinging shards and burning whiskey showered her; from that explosion an orange hoof shot out, grasping her by her shoulder.

“I can’t, Rainbow! It can’t go on like this no more!”

Applejack shook her, but looking at the tears streaming down the freckled muzzle, Rainbow realised that the mare to which that hoof was attached to was just shaking herself.

“I ‘ake up and lie to m’self, I hafta break mah fast with mah family ‘n… ‘n Applebloom be askin’ them quest’ns and I hafta lie to her too—t’mah little sister, Rainbow! Then I go on workin’ ‘n lyin’. I meet mah cus’tmers ‘n lie to them. I talk t’mah friends ‘n hafta t’tell them lies! Mah entire life has become one huge lie!”

Looking in the watery reflection in green pained eyes, Rainbow observed a mare that she hoped she drove away when she broke the mirror.

But I can’t break every mirror.

“I understand,” she whickered to the sobbing pony, then rested her hooves on Applejack’s shoulders, steadying her.

Hanging her head in shame and defeat, Applejack rasped, “Them worst parts—Rarity’s right. Ain’t no matter what I do, it makes mah friend sad. Mah friends.”

“She was never right. And she should come to see Fluttershy sometimes, to see who is actually sad.”

Applejack shrugged off the blue hooves—without any animosity; her limbs just couldn’t support her anymore and she eased her body on the floor, to crumble in an attempt to sit like before her outburst. Except, this time, the orange mare glared at the ceiling with her head tilted back.

“It hafta t’stop,” she neighed in a tone that implied no negotiations.

How long will it take before Fluttershy breaks down like that? How long is Pinkie going to last before she, too, loses it?

As if Rainbow said that aloud, Applejack wondered like she never thought of that before, “When did ye see Pinkie laughin’ last time?”

Swallowing, Rainbow informed her, “Fluttershy snapped at me today. But I’m afraid she will fight… us so we don’t tell Twilight about what’s going on.”

Her words remained unanswered for a while.

“Twilight ain’t a no Princess.” Applejack slowly shook her head. “But, p’haps, Princess’s what we need.”

“Just like that? We barge into the Palace and tattle Twilight out?”

“What choice do we have? We brin’ it up ‘fore Twilight—’n it’s only the three of us—Rarity would come later ‘n convince ‘er of the opposite, draggin’ poor Fluttershy with ‘er.”

Rainbow hung her head, screwing her eyes shut—that whole mess festered for far too long to be easily untangled anymore. And now the time was against her—against her friends.

“When?” she asked, nervously glancing at Applejack; the pegasus didn’t relish in the perspective of meeting the Princesses—Luna especially.

“T’morrow.” Rainbow’s eyes snapped wide open. In response to that Applejack arched her eyebrow and added, “Why be waitin’? Do ye still hope things improve?”

The futility of such an expectation couldn’t be denied, nor the utmost necessity of swift action; yet Rainbow hesitated as some deep part of her clung to the hope of salvaging the nightmare she had helped to create so she might achieve her dream.

Her ears flattened themselves against her skull.

“Aren’t you afraid?”

That earned Rainbow a look of half-confusion and half-bemusement.

“Of what?”

The pegasus pricked her ears up for any rustles that didn’t belong to the canopies of apple trees. Do they know I am here? Do they know why?

None betrayed more than two equines being privy to that conversation and, still, she replied in a hushed tone, “Rarity warned us about the changelings everywhere.”

“Threat’nd, ye mean.” The acidity with which Applejack nickered only waxed as she continued. “Rarity can say whate’r she wants, but them changelings ain’t on ‘er ‘side’.” Rainbow gave her a look but abstained from any comments. “They ain’t on nobody’s side. Them changelings don’t care if we’re tearin’ each other aparts, they don’t care if Twilight’s happy or we’re sad. We should care ‘bout that ‘n that’s all we should care ‘bout.”

There is a changeling who cares. And who should be cared about. Rainbow grimaced as shame flooded her heart with a sharp ache. But it will have to wait.

Once more she fell silent, hesitant to openly affirm her commitment to undoing Twilight’s project and again, she forced herself to speak, though her question shouldn’t have been so hard to voice, “It’s just the two of us or we’re taking Pinkie, too?”

A heavy sigh escaped Applejack’s lips—simultaneously laden with sympathy and exasperation.

“Am sure she’ll want t’come. Don’t worry, Rainbow—whate’r was ‘tween the two of ye… she’ll forgive you.”

But will I forgive myself?

She abruptly stood up and blurted out before something convinced her to change her mind, “I’ll come. And I’ll talk to Fluttershy, maybe she’ll change her mind.”

Applejack only nodded, emerald eyes clouded by exhaustion both physical—borne from a day of work—and mental; nevertheless, thoughts of what might come glittered in her gaze like fish under the moonlight.

The Moon crawled to the middle of the night sky when Rainbow reached her desolated home. She hovered before its yawning door peering inside, knowing that she would find there a stained couch, a stolen gem and herself.

Folding her wings, the pegasus dropped from the clouds; the cold air hit them with a snap when she finally let her feathers carry her. Silent as the breeze, the blue mare glided over the sleeping town till she reached its border with the ominous forest.

“It’s me,” Rainbow murmured, stepping inside the cottage.

Fluttershy lay on the couch, curled into a foetal position, but tense and with her eyes snapped open in mute horror, dripping tears on the cushions as she couldn’t escape the haunting visions.

Rainbow climbed beside the stiff mare and used her wing like a blanket to cover her friend. As she pressed herself to Fluttershy’s back, the yellow pegasus gradually relaxed and with a shudder she slumped, having finally drifted into Luna’s domain.

Loyalty

Truth-telling Lies

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Written by: Oneimare

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Loyalty

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An absentminded flap of her wings corrected Rainbow’s position in the sky, nudging her back to the up-current high above Ponyville. For once, she didn’t soar with an intent to break a speed record or sound barrier—she had another goal in mind, much more mundane but no less important.

Her rosy eyes meticulously studied the clouds, taking in their size, form and position—or she would like them to, because the tiny figures milling below the fluffy ceiling kept yanking her attention away from her task.

Shadows that belonged to a no pony skittered around the town; when they didn’t, the alienation zones gave away the ‘newcomers’.

Ponyville had lived on, of course, but, somehow, that blackness of chitin as if had greyed out every colour a bit, had put tiny weights on everybody’s lip corners and had mixed silence into the cocktail of noises that composed the background music for the quaint rustic town.

Rarity’s words—all of them—still rang in Rainbow’s mind with its unjust and almost outright hostile message. And whilst the pegasus had got used to ignoring most of it, one part refused to abandon her thoughts.

“Since they arrived in Ponyville, they haven’t harmed a single pony, haven’t done anything to deserve fear or mistrust.”

She didn’t lie, but…

Just like during the roll call, the changelings breathed deception—those who phlegmatically wandered Ponyville’s streets played the role of decoys and were on the lookout, ready to warn their brethren of Twilight’s curiosity seeking to learn about how her charges fared or went on with their assignments.

Their real work—real life—began with sunset.

Many times Rainbow had observed how the swarm, barely distinguishable in the darkness, divided into parts. Some sneaked into the tangle of malignant brambles marking the Everfree’s domain; some hurried to sell what was brought from there the last night; and the rest… those made sure their kith had their proverbial bellies full in exchange for making the night less lonely for many a Ponyville’s resident.

And in the morning the spectacle resumed.

They had harmed none, indeed, and aside from the pantomime under the Sun, the changelings sometimes incited anything but fear.

Mistrust, though?

Once I understood their goals and their way, they’re neither deeper nor shallower than a pony. But…

Rainbow’s chest heaved with a tremendous sigh.

But, but, but, but, but.

Not for once Rainbow thought that Ponyville had actually gained something from housing those fugitives and the defectors hadn’t got what they needed either—all that secrecy tainted every ‘harmless’ exchange of goods or services; and, obviously, Twilight wrote some of her rules for a good reason.

There was nothing wrong with the changelings but the way they fit into society the best. The only vacant niche for them that also utilised their nature to the fullest often overlapped with a lot of things falling under the category of criminal activities; at very best—of questionable morality.

Does that make me a tribalist?

But if I were to support something that doesn’t make anyone happy, what would that make me?

There must be a way to make it work, but I’m too dumb to see it; and those who can see it… I don’t let them.

Scowling at nobody in particular, Rainbow careened in hope that checking on the clouds drifting at the desolated outskirts of the town would clear her mind of all that philosophy. However, the sight of celestial wool knitting itself to cast shadows on Carrot Top’s fields brought her no joy; and not because she deeply cared for that mare’s harvest.

Another pegasus shared the sky with Rainbow.

A slender form darted from one floating mountain of vapour to another, fast as an arrow; seeking privacy, in a similar fashion she pierced the dirty-white mass to emerge on the other side with the torn cotton trailing behind and her dark feathers glistening with the life-blood of the peaceful clouds.

With one of her eyebrows raised, Rainbow followed the zigzagging journey of that frantic mare, who, despite casting her glance around every time she left the cloud cover, still failed to take notice of a rainbow-maned pegasus hovering above her; to her defence—far above.

Rainbow’s first thought was obvious, but that strange pony didn’t fit into the cast of actors, unless the swarm had come with some new role for the grand theatre they had made of Ponyville. But even Teleta, with all her naivety, could do a better job in being inconspicuous; again, unless the dark pegasus had a goal to look like the worst changeling possible.

Any other day investigating that anomaly would have been a thrill, but as Rainbow dived to intercept the actual newcomer to the town, only a dull sense of duty guided her wings.

As the mare burst out of the wreathing moisture, she instantly collided with Rainbow who expected her to appear there; she also expected her to be more careful, all things considered. Thrashing like she forgot how to use her wings, the mysterious pony nearly dragged Rainbow into a dive—a fall, likely—but, drumming her wings, the cyan pegasus managed to carry them both to the nearest flat cloud.

“A thousand thanks,” the mare huffed, smoothing her deep purple mane.

Don’t tell me… Rainbow squinted at her, as something in her tone rang a bell; her entire demeanour gave a very distinct and familiar impression.

“No sweat,” she heartily chuckled, waving her hoof. Using her feathers to flick off a tuft of cloud clinging to the mare’s nearly charcoal coat, Rainbow smiled, radiating pure nonchalance. “I haven’t seen you before. Are you visiting Ponyville?”

“Why, yes. We decided—”

The mare clamped her jaws shut, covering her lips with her hooves for a good measure, but it was too late. Rainbow quirked her eyebrow whilst the rest of her face followed, forming the opposite of an impressed expression.

“We—I—can’t believe it took me but four words to reveal Ourselves,” the Princess in disguise groaned; smacking her forehead with a hoof, she shook her head.

“You mean, ‘myself’?” Rainbow deadpanned, wondering if she should have added ‘your majesty’; teasing an alicorn was also something she might want to reconsider.

Though Luna grimaced, she lamented only her failure, grumbling, “We used to be better at this—We swear on Our crown.”

“But why the secrecy, Your Majesty?” Suddenly the late summer gentle breeze snaked into Rainbow’s fur with all the frigidity of winter’s teeth and she all but stammered, “Is… something wrong?”

Luna gave Rainbow a thoughtful look; her eye colour remained unchanged, imbuing it with an uncomfortably penetrating quality. She then confided, albeit reluctantly, “It’s not an official visit and hopefully unnecessary one. As this project passed to Us, We thought of witnessing the results with Our very eyes.”

“Is Princess Celestia alright?”

A question that came the instant the Princess explained herself as if cast a ray of the Sun on Luna’s face; though the joy of hearing ponies caring about her sister was short-lived as the shadow of worry robbed her face of smile. Seeing it being reflected on Rainbow’s muzzle tenfold, she hurried to inform her, “She hasn’t been herself since the attack, but she’s better now.”

“She seemed alright at the wedding.”

Fighting against a grimace threatening to screw her features again, Luna trotted to the edge of the cloud; slowly, as if afraid her hooves would find no purchase on the soft surface. She cast her gaze across the Whitetail Woods till it fixed the bemisted spires of Canterlot.

“Something we have in common—making a great impression of being alright… till it’s too late,” she admitted, her expression distant and ears pointing back; the discontent that failed to claim her face got into her words. “Wherefore We forbade her from any work till her full recovery.”

Luna is in charge now.

Rainbow’s skin twitched as the frosty touch of dread reached under it. At the same time, the sensation of being watched burned the back of her head; she turned to find nothing, only the clear sky—but she needn’t eyes to see the shadow of a cyan pegasus sadly gazing at her and mouthing, “It’s our chance; maybe, the only.”

“Did…” Rainbow had suddenly found her throat dry; hoping melancholy had a strong enough hold on alicorn to render her deaf to that, she tried again, “Did you come because you doubt Twilight can succeed?”

A rich purple mane whipped and a pair of moon-sized eyes stared at Rainbow.

“Of course not!” Luna exclaimed, her voice laden with what sounded mostly like hurt.

However, as Rainbow flinched back, so did the alicorn; a shadow reclaimed her face and she nickered, “But it is no wonder you have thought that.”

Taking a seat at the edge of the cloud where she stood, Luna motioned with her head for Rainbow to join; the pegasus obliged with a certain degree of reluctance—uncertain if she were to receive admonishment or to become privy to another of the Night Sovereign’s secrets.

A heavy sigh subtly betrayed the latter.

“We will be honest—We were almost mad at Our sister,” Luna quietly began, stealing a glance at Rainbow to gauge her reaction; to her chagrin, the pegasus expressed deliberate stoicism. “But We wouldn’t have dared to steal a chance from Twilight and, in the end, We’ve got Our opportunity to prove Ourselves.” Her plumage fluffed out at the same time as a blush of guilt crept on her cheeks; however, the brief brooding silence led to her eyes lit up with determination even if tinged with tiredness—of a contented sort, though. “It’s just that now, when the dust has settled, We are not as busy anymore and curiosity got the better of Us.”

With that she cast an expectant look at Rainbow; who still tried to mimic stone—she wished to become one, so it would give her an excuse to leave that conversation by falling through a cloud.

Am I going to lie right in the face of a Princess? Or am I going to ruin everything for Twilight?

Despite having to all but physically expel the words out of her throat, they seared her mouth, leaving a foul taste, “We all want to see Twilight happy.”

Staring forward stalwartly didn’t help her escape the long look from those piercing eyes of Luna. She sees right through me; she knows.

But the alicorn’s voice betrayed nothing of that when she lightheartedly asked, “We shall take it as everything is going smoothly.”

Rainbow thought she would have to put her hoof in her mouth to get out that simple, “Yes.”

Luna’s eyes bore into her like two chips of ice. Scrap turning into stone—Rainbow had to fight the urge to stand up, trot over the wispy edge and not open her wings till she touched the earth.

And she almost did that when the alicorn spoke, her refined voice bearing sickening warmth, “Thank you for sparing Us the embarrassment of showing the changelings Our atrophied skill as We snooped around the town trying to figure out that Ourselves.”

But she knows!

“We are very embarrassed to ask that of you, but would you keep Our visit clandestine?” Luna shifted, fluffing up her feathers anew. “We can easily imagine that others—Twilight especially—may come to the same conclusion as you.”

“No problem,” Rainbow squeezed out of herself; to her surprise and disgust with less effort than she expected.
“Thank you, Rainbow Dash. You’re a such loyal friend.”

Magic

Truth-telling Lies

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Written by: Oneimare

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Magic

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The Sun flooded the throne room, though it barely created any islands of gold as its light filtered through the stained glass. Thus, regardless of if Rainbow looked under her hooves or to the side, the pegasus would be reminded of herself being depicted in one of those stories made eternal; of how she once used to deserve that honour. She had one more direction to look, but daren’t meet the eyes of the Princess who watched their glacially slow approach to the throne.

She must be knowing why we’re here.

The rest of Rainbow’s company—the three quiet mares—shared that reluctance to withstand the probing gaze of the Lunar thriarch. Because of that, the unusual petitioners failed to notice how annoyance infused her blue eyes as they reached the dais and stood there silent, exchanging unsure, almost regretful glances.

“If it’s Our sister you’re with to witness, she is still recovering and thus relieved of her duties,” Luna darkly noted.

The frequency and intensity of the looks shared betwixt the four mares waxed till Applejack took off her hat—only to curse into it—and clearing her throat, addressed the Princess, “Forgive us Yer Majesty, we’re… uh… jus’ don’t know how… t’approach… the subject?” She glared daggers at her companions, loudly whispering, “Some help woulda mighty app’ciat’d—’m a farmer, ain’t no diplomacy knower.”

“It was your idea to come here,” Rainbow neighed; her eyes meticulously studied her hooves and the lush crimson carpet beneath.

“So what?” Applejack neighed at her, her harsh whisper threatening to be a whisper no more. “Does it mean ye gotta standin’ ‘ere like them real tree stumps?”

No matter how hard Rainbow focused on the pile surface or the web of cracks marring her hooves, she acutely sensed one more pair of eyes burrowing under her skin. Turning her head far enough to see the splash of pink but stopping before she met the transfixing gaze, she barked, “Don’t give me that look, Pinkie.”

She thought Fluttershy answered her, so soft Pinkie’s voice was, “I’ve never blamed you for anything.”

Rainbow snapped her head at the party mare, her nostrils flaring and lips drew back, paving the way for stinging words; but her expression fell and she turned away, pressing ears to her head.

If it has to stop, I should start with myself.

With her skin twitching as if a thousand needles attacked her, she swallowed and admitted though through gritted teeth, “I know. And I’m sorry.”

For once Rainbow couldn’t stand the attention as every pair of eyes all but tried to ignite her fur. Nevertheless, she was ready to speak again—she just needed to find the right words.

But as nothing—except for Fluttershy’s whimper—disturbed the tense silence, Luna reminded them of her presence, “Although the Day Court is an official procedure, you can still address Us as a friend—which, I hope, you do consider Us so. That, and as long as you present your problem clearly, the form is not an issue.” The alicorn abruptly frowned. “Wait, there are fair Twilight and Rarity?”

That frown deepened as the four mares collectively failed to hide the flash of guilt in their expression.

“What’s wrong?” she asked firmly, but not demanding the answer.

Her hooves heavier than ever, Rainbow took a step forward that felt like a leap across the dark chasm with no end in sight. Or, maybe, I finally dragged myself out of that abyss. She forced herself to look up till Luna met her eyes; all-knowing as ever, the alicorn held no judgement… yet.

I’m ready.

“The changelings,” Rainbow spoke, suddenly feeling freer than she had been in many a moon; her brow furrowed. “No. It’s us—we have been wrong from the very beginning. I was wrong.”

A hoof clad in silver tapped the door of the Golden Oaks library and a rustle of muffled activity answered it along with the librarian’s barely containing irritation yelling, “I’m coming!”

An annoyed expression on Twilight’s face lasted as long as it took her to recognise her guests.

“Luna?” She stared at her, then her wide-eyed gaze drifted behind the alicorn to open even further. “Girls? What’s going on?”

It has to be me.

As Rainbow took a single step forward, her heart shattered and the shards dug into her flesh, twisting. “Listen, Twilight—”

But before the purple eyes could focus on her, a wall of dark blue feathers arose as if from the ground. Though Luna didn’t turn back to even glance at the pegasus, her words were aimed at her, “Before We delve into the… situation, I’d like all the ponies involved to be present—Rarity’s perspective might be crucial.”

“But—”

An icy cold glare as if had commanded Rainbow’s hooves and she stumbled back, reminded that they called for intervention because things got out of control—and now were under new management.

“What situation?” Twilight’s voice rose shrilly; her eyes failed to meet any other but Luna’s—unreadable and unrelenting. “Isn’t anyone going to answer me about what’s going on?”

“We have received complaints regarding the changelings in Ponyville,” the alicorn dryly informed her.

“I know nothing of that sort.” Twilight bristled. “Nor did Princess Celestia have informed me in her letters of any problems.”

Luna’s perfect composure faltered—her eyes flared and as she spoke, her voice had a subtle edge to it, “Because Our sister is indisposed and We received those complaints personally.”

Rainbow couldn’t help but flinch when Twilight jerked as if slapped and the pained look that she kept casting at her friends, laden with a mute question, began to burn with enmity.

“You should trust your friends…” Luna stood betwixt her and them. “Like Celestia told you to.”

It didn’t banish a frown from Twilight’s face, almost managing to hide a tremor in her voice, she defiantly and loudly proclaimed, “I do trust my friends—I’m sure Rarity will support me in whatever is going on.”

Somehow, Rainbow had ended up leading the procession of six mares, releasing that only when the Carousel Boutique towered before her.

The Sun sliding over the horizon robbed the whimsical edifice of its festivity. The shadows breathed life in the ponyquins who twitched as if in impatience for the night to fully unthaw them; the fading light coloured every flag crimson and they angrily snapped in the chilly breeze like leathery wings of bats; ringed in the blood of the last Sun’s rays, dark windows glared at the visitors who dared to come there after the working hours.

The chime announced Rainbow’s entrance, however, only the sound of the others filing after her followed the resounding ringing—the owner of the place didn’t even bother to let them know she heard their arrival.

The studio stayed silent, the work paused till the next day in the state of ‘artistic mess’ that mounded from every horizontal surface and tried to cling even to the walls. As Rainbow’s gaze impatiently slid across the piles of cloth, she couldn’t help but wonder if Rarity had actually managed to accomplish anything these days—no dresses hung from ponyquins or racks, though mainly from the absence of the former.

“It seems fair Rarity is not present, alas,” Luna stated the obvious, though her eyes kept scanning the room as if the fashionista might appear from the thin air at any moment.

“The door is open—she must be at home,” protested Twilight, looking around as she hoped Rarity would appear from the thin air the next moment.

The somberly silent journey across Ponyville, where everyone had been concentrating on avoiding each other’s eyes, had already imbued the air with suffocating tension; now, a new note joined that—the seeds of fear.

“I’ll check upstairs,” Rainbow volunteered, leaving the rest to explore the ground floor.

It came as no surprise, when she found it empty; Rarity’s room greeted her with the same picture—rolls of fabric, various tools and thread spools strewn with no sense of purpose for those not in the know. From a heap of fabric cuts, two greenish eyes glared at the invader—Opalescence made herself a nest there.

Rainbow’s return coincided with Applejack and Twilight coming back from the kitchen and the backroom, respectively; Luna had waited for them in the middle of the studio, whilst Fluttershy and Pinkie forlornly sat by the door—the latter supported the former, as the pegasus had repeatedly attempted to either flee or curl into a tight ball as the dusk was extinguishing the Sun’s last embers.

“Her room is empty, but maybe she—” Rainbow began and was cut short when her hoof caught something on the floor—a rug—and despite her best efforts, she found herself prostrated on the floor.

Just awesome, Rainbow Crash, and right in front of the Princess—way to go!

A sharp pang of dismay pierced her heart as nobody came to her help—not that she actually needed it; however, the reason for that became clear the moment later.

Luna’s horn lit up to pull on the carpet that felled Rainbow and Applejack exclaimed, frowning, “What in tarnation is this?”

Scrambling on her hooves, Rainbow glanced behind herself only to discover that the rug might not be to blame for her embarrassment—but a trap door. Square and crude—not even painted—it stood out almost painfully amidst the clean and polished floorboards.

“A wine cellar? We would expect that from a mare as refined as her,” Luna commented.

But her suggestion was met with expressions confused at best.

Exchanging worried glances, everybody came to a silent agreement—the hauntingly empty boutique left no room for guessing where Rarity could be.

The Princess’s magic threw open the hatch, its hinges screeching their protest. A set of stairs dug into the earth, leading deep enough to be lost in the darkness completely; the ominous entrance breathed with dampness and mould.

“Stay close by me,” Luna cautioned and ignited her horn into a beacon of pale light.

Whilst the rest hesitated to enter—and Rainbow suspected Fluttershy to refuse altogether—the blue pegasus herself followed the alicorn like a shadow, driven by the genuine care for her friend’s fate.

The steep staircase hewn from soil spiralled down, taking a sharp turn every few steps; barely reinforced tunnel bristled with gnarled roots and angular stones poking inbetwixt the infrequent rotting wooden planks. Luna had a hard time fitting that passage, half-bent to avoid her horn scraping the ceiling and raining dirt in her eyes, she winced as her sides brushed the unwelcoming walls.

After that felt like an eternity for not just Luna—Twilight’s and Applejack’s hisses of discomfort betrayed their bravery to follow the Princess—a wooden door emerged. From the other side of it muffled yelling echoed, rhythmical and pleading—screams unmistakably belonging to Rarity.

One flicker of magic later the door exploded in a cloud of splinters and Luna charged forward, leaving scraps of blue hair on the narrow walls; Rainbow hot on her heels.

However, the alicorn froze in her tracks almost instantly and only by some miracle did Rainbow manage to avoid crashing into the dark-blue posterior. Peeking over Luna’s shoulder, the pegasus, too, turned into a statue as if she met the eye of a cockatrice; nevertheless, she had it in herself to back a step, flattening her ears against her skull.

Huddled on one side of the cave-like small room, a few changelings stared at the ‘intruders’ from a working table piled with fabric and neighboured by a rack with half-finished dresses; the needles and scissors in the chitinous hooves betrayed their direct involvement in the creation of those apparels. Behind them, the crates with crystal orbs towered, emanating their trademark pink glow through the gaps in planks.

But on the other side of the room…

On a queen-sized bed, three changelings surrounded Rarity; green fire only just began to cleanse away the identities they donned, slowly as if unsure.

One, a large muscular stallion, was caught pinning the white unicorn to the mattress; his similarly alabaster coat glistened with sweat and a cutie mark of a shield adorned his chiselled flanks. Another stallion of familiar red colour rendered Rarity mute by occupying her mouth with particular extremities of himself; the emerald flames gnawed on the just as green apple delusively relating him to the Apple family. The last changeling still had a string of saliva hanging betwixt herself and Rarity’s; the perfect doppelganger or the Night’s Sovereign stared at the real one in utter horror—and even Rainbow feared to take a look at Luna’s face.

With her eyes glued to the sight before her, the blue pegasus barely heard the gasps and curses that came along with two mares squeezing into Rarity’s secret basement; how Applejack started to yell at the white unicorn and Twilight began to cry.

In the tumult of emotions that tore at her mind, exhausted by the recent last few days—months—she could hear only her thoughts—and a single coherent amongst them:

It’s truly over now, but at what cost?

Epilogue

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Laughter

Truth-telling Lies

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Written by: Oneimare

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Laughter

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Knives and spatulas whistled through the air; whisks whipped cream in one bowl whilst a spoon mixed batter in another; flour hung like mist, sugar rustled akin to sand in a desert storm; at the same time, it rained milk and water into pans.

Not a small army or unicorns stood in the heart of that chaos, but a single pink earth pony. Furthermore, her deft limbs and logic-defying mane didn’t let a single droplet or crumb land on the floor, nor did the rest of the kitchen could tell the story of what she baked today.

Pinkie Pie relished in her dance, standing still not for a moment and her every movement, no matter how minuscule, served a purpose in that unceasing ritual—so bizarre, it seemed almost eerie to Rainbow Dash.

“Cupcake?”

A pink hoof emerged from the whirlwind of activity, offering the steaming pastry to the pegasus—a blood-red cherry variety.

Rainbow stared at it, confused, before absentmindedly mumbling, “I’m more of a muffin pony.”

The pink mare continued to fix her with an unreadable gaze for a heartbeat more, then shrugged, flicking her ears.

“Eh, to each their own.”

Finally shaking off the awe from watching the magic of earth ponies, Rainbow peered into the icy depths of Pinkie’s eyes; failing to discern anything in those crystally innocent pools, she somewhat reluctantly whickered, “How’re you doing?”

“What a weird question.” Pinkie glanced at her, smiling too widely. “I’m doing great! Aren’t you doing great, Dashie?”

“I—”

“Twilight’s happy, and so everyone’s happy… right?” She cocked her head, squinting at Rainbow without dropping her unnerving smile. “You should be the happiest, shouldn’t you?”

“No idea what you’re talking about.” Hopefully, I didn’t blush. “And enough about me—you haven’t answered.”

“Just as I said—great!” Pinkie’s face stretched even further and her expression gained a truly disturbing quality; an unblinking stare aimed at the blue mare didn’t help that either. “Don’t I look like a happy pony?”

Rainbow coolly regarded her sardonic grin.

“No, you look like a different pony,” she sadly commented.

Something twinkled in Pinkie’s azure gaze and as the meaning of her own words caught up with the pegasus, her thoughts came together with a click. She froze, staring in the blue eyes, expecting them to turn green any moment; whilst she waited, her mouth opened and closed, like that of a fish driven ashore.

The equine before her remained unchanged, however; except for a normal, if somewhat mysterious, smile wiping the rictus off her thoughtful face. As if nothing happened, she picked up a bowl of batter and began to churn it.

“So, you think I’m Lamina,” she neighed as Rainbow continuously failed to stop doing an impression of a pony suffocating.

Rainbow replied to her with a blank look first, then, “Who?”

“The changeling assigned to Pinkie,” Pinkie explained nonchalantly. “Maybe she left me in her stead. How would you know the truth?”

“Ask something only Pinkie would know?” Rainbow blurted without thinking, eyeing the mare before her like she would turn into a timberwolf and lunge at her throat any moment.

That earned her a long look through narrowed eyes; mischief infused it when Pinkie answered with a question of her own, “Didn’t I say such a thing already?”

“But you know that because you’re a changeling!”

“And what a changeling would know?”

Blood rushed to Rainbow’s cheeks and she stared at her hooves, sweating bullets; she didn’t see how the pink mare’s face drooped.

“Pinkie isn’t blind herself,” the mare dutifully mixing the batter murmured. “Maybe that’s why she looks like a different pony.”

An accusing hoof shot up, connected to the pegasus still furiously blushing.

“Prove you’re not a changeling!” she demanded.

“Why?”

“What do you mean ‘why’!?”

Pinkie put the spoon and a bowl away to calmly hold Rainbow’s burning gaze.

“Would that… change anything?” Neither her voice nor her expression had any trace of mirth; flat and hollow, it lacked even accusation as she continued, “Don’t you care about changelings as much as about your friends? Isn’t that what Twilight wants of you?”

“Of us, you mean.” Rainbow squinted at Pinkie. “And stop bringing her up.”

“Why? Are you afraid she might be wrong?”

“Do you think she is wrong?” Rainbow challenged her, bringing herself so close to the pink mare, that the sweets-scented breath tickled her muzzle.

But Pinkie only shrugged, leaving Rainbow glaring at her as she returned to her craft.

“I might be a changeling. Remember?”

“Pinkie Promise me you aren’t a changeling,” Rainbow deadpanned.

Pinkie’s muzzle bloomed with genuine joy and her ears perked up.

“That’s smart!” Going through the customary motions, she solemnly recited, “Cross my heart and hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye.”

This time a real one got involved; grabbed from one of the pans, it stuck to her face—the face that despite all still was but a shadow of what it used to be.

“Better?”

The violated pastry landed back on the table with a squelch; as animosity in Rainbow’s eyes briefly allowed scepticism to take over—only to let it fade away, too—she chuckled.

“Yeah, you’re Pinkie, alright.” She fell silent but her smile didn’t last. Finally, the pegasus forced herself to quietly ask, “So, do you think what Twilight does isn’t working?”

The pink mare blinked at her. “It isn’t?”

“What if it isn’t?” Rainbow shot her a half-hearted glare; most of her attention remained elsewhere. “Shouldn’t we tell her in that case?”

“Would you?”

Rainbow’s eyes returned to Pinkie’s painfully naive face, studying it with a frown; her lips twisted into a scowl, ready to snap at her friend, but then a voice inside her head reminded her, I didn’t do it back then. What has changed? Have I changed?

To deafen the answer, Rainbow cleared her throat.

“Where’s Lamina, by the way?” She wondered, her voice strained. “I don’t think anyone has ever seen you with her.”

A sense of déjà vu hit her as Pinkie grinned, showing two rows of gleaming teeth and her eyes glistened with a dark mystery; except the shadows, seemingly life-laden, now also thickened in the corners of the kitchen.

Are there more changelings assigned to Sugarcube Corner?

“You made a Pinkie Promise,” Rainbow noted, her voice hollow.

“What if Pinkie is too far away?”

“That wouldn’t have stopped her.”

The pegasus peered into the two wells of cyan ink and she could swear she caught a glimpse of virid; her ears fell flat against her skull.

It’s only my imagination.

Forcing herself to remain still, she took a deep breath—it changed nothing.

Pinkie smiled even harder, once more entering the uncanny valley; her unblinking gaze pinned Rainbow to the floor.

“Whoever—” I must trust my friend. “Pinkie. This isn’t funny.”

The pink mare changed—without green flames; in a blink of an eye, she sagged like a deflated balloon and even the colour had partially abandoned her.

“I’m sorry.” Her voice came out almost as a sniff. “Things haven’t been fun in a while. No matter what I’d tried, Lamina wouldn’t have fun with me. None of them is having fun.”

Rainbow looked away, clenching her teeth.

“None of us either—except for Twilight,” she spoke without malice; then paused and furrowed her brow. “Then maybe… it’s our fault?”

Shaking her head vigorously—too vigorously—Pinkie reassured her, “Some of us could be kinder,”—she gave Rainbow a brief but pointed look—“but that wouldn’t have changed the big picture.”

“It’s not my fault Teleta is just so…” The pegasus instantly bristled, but trailed off as words suddenly stuck in her throat.

“So what?” Rainbow’s head snapped at Pinkie—she had never heard her speak in such a tone. “So friendly? So enthusiastic? So loyal? So isn’t Twilight?”

Rainbow’s hoof hit the floor so hard, that half of the dishes and utensils in the kitchen echoed the impact.

“Enough of bringing that up!”

“Dashie, you know why I do that,” Pinkie instantly answered her, pleading; she tried to meet the pegasus’ eyes—without any success. “What do you think would happen if I came to her and told her she is committing a mistake? We’re her friends and we’re in this together—we can’t act alone!”

“Well,” a hiss came from betwixt Rainbow’s clenched teeth, “I can Pinkie Promise you Rarity and Fluttershy wouldn’t share that idea.”

“You can’t know that!”

“And neither do you,” a harsh bark bounced off the walls. “You coin it like that all is my fault!”

From the corner of her eye, Rainbow watched a pink form flinch; she barely stopped herself from mirroring her.

“I’ve never said such a thing.”
“You implied it. You act like you know everything—but you don’t!” Abruptly standing up, she headed out. “Anyhow, I’m glad you’re doing great and what would you know—me too. See you later, Pinkie.”