Making the moths of a situation
It was a beautiful summer day in Canterlot, and Luna was awake. This did not bode well, in the servants’ minds, because Her Lunar Magnificence was not a morning pony. Fortunately, Luna had distractions, in the form of a dandelion green salad, hay fries, and a tall pitcher of sweet iced tea. There was a knock at her door, and Luna looked over. “We giveth thee welcome to enter Our chambers.” She says, and the door opens. A royal guard, with a red coat and white mane, and subtly shining green eyes, walks in to the room, closing the door behind him.
“Good morning, Your Majesty.” He says, bowing deeply. “I was chosen to deliver the nightly reports to You.” He’s muscular and tall, almost as tall as Luna, and her mind was swimming with ideas. Most of them were about going back to bed.
“Thou may put them on the desk...” She trails off, not knowing the guard’s name.
“Sergeant Platine, Your Majesty.” He says, setting a folder on the desk. Luna’s eyes were drawn to his muscles, how they were powerful and graceful in the way a guard’s muscles were supposed to be.
“Ah, yes, Sergeant Rapier Platine, descendant of Crossguard Platine, who vanquished a conspiracy against Our newly formed nation.” The guard nods. “Thou joined the Royal Guard just a few months after thou completed thy schooling, and bear an unusual amount of magic for an earth pony.” She says.
“Mom says I take after great-great grandma, Your Majesty.” He says. “But I’d rather earn my respect as opposed to riding on her coat tails.” The guard and the princess share a smile by way of secrets shared.
“Understandable. We wish to learn more of how Our little ponies live in these modern times.” She takes the folder and flips through it using her magic, the indigo aura suffusing the pages, converting the information and data within into knowledge and memory in her mind as she speed reads. “We’re issuing thee special orders: thou art to join us as we go for a walk in the Canterlot Commons. Thou wilt be given double pay for hazard detail and We will pay for lunch, as well.”
Rapier snaps a salute, and holds it as Luna turns to her wardrobe. “Sir, yes, ma’am, Your Majesty.” He says, holding the salute until Luna turns and responds in kind, dropping the salute quickly.
“You are dismissed, Sergeant, and wear a formal undercover uniform. We doubt that we’ll need protection, but some of Our little ponies still fear us, and fear drives ponies to desperate action even in the best of times.” She says, and Rapier nods.
“Understood, ma’am. Should I bring my primary arm, or just a sidearm?” He asks.
“We leave that to your discretion, Sergeant.” She says, and Rapier leaves, heading to his quarters as two others, a pair of pegasi twins, flank him.
“Dude, you realize she just asked you on a date, right?” The starboard flanker, Godspeed, says, her mane and feathers a soft pink marbled with light blue feather tips and mane.
The port-side pegasus, Swift Wind, sighs. “That could be a conflict of interest on your part, Rapier. Our duty is to protect the princesses, not fall in love.” Godspeed scoffs.
“Brother, you do realize you sound like an absolute--” Godspeed is interrupted when Rapier clears his throat.
“Be that as it may, Corporals Swift Wind and Godspeed, I was given orders, and if Her Majesty trusts me with her life, regardless of her reasons, then it falls to me to protect her.” He looks both of them in their eyes. “And you two need to quit your squabbling. Yes, Swift Wind, I’m aware of the intricacies of the situation, if only in part, but I’m not looking for a marefriend.” He says to the twin pegasi. “Now, I’m going to get ready. You will relieve me of my post at the throne room.” He says, and they assume parade rest. “Dismissed.” They turn on their hooves and march off.
Luna slips a gown on with Celestia’s help. “Sister, you really should get some rest.” Celestia says. “You can’t possibly be smitten with one of the guards.” The lunar diarch giggles.
“We haven’t the slightest clue what Thou speak of.” She says. “We merely want to see modern life.” She smiles. “And how is thy day going, dear sister?”
“Excellent. I’ve sent Twilight tickets to the Grand Galloping Gala.” She says. “I’m excited to see what her friends will bring to the event this year.”
“Sister, We’ve known thou as long as thou have known Us, and We know thou hate that event as much as thou enjoy thine cakes.” Celestia giggles. “Now, dost thou think We should bring a sidearm or not?” The solar diarch shakes her head.
“Sergeant Platine is a competent guard and probably the best fighter in the entire guard just shy of Captain Shining Armor. I would trust him with my life in the face of danger.” She says.
Once Rapier reached his private quarters and locked the door, emerald green flames engulf him, revealing him to be a changeling. While he might not be a normal pony, his loyalty was to the princesses and Equestria, not some hive queen he's never met, and most of the guards knew his secret, if only indirectly. Scuttlebutt was almost as hard to kill in a military unit as a Lerneighan Hydra. Only the twins who’d flanked him earlier, Captain Shining Armor, and the princesses knew his secret, and none of the nobles really suspected infiltration from the hive, though he’d definitely made his opinion known to the diarchs that it was possible. He went up to the mirror, cracked from arcane backlash as it was, and attuned it to the Changeling frequencies.
Reception was poor, and he’d need to find a glazier and an enchanter who’d be willing to hear him out and help him, but he connected. “Papaya... subverted, initiating... Matrimonial...” The connection broke, and he sighs. He’d have to get the mirror fixed sooner than later, and mirrors were expensive. He looked himself over, and while most changelings were thin, emaciated looking things, he was well-fed, the holes in his legs smaller than most, and his fangs shorter as well. His wings weren’t the thin gossamer sheets of his fellow equinoids, but instead sheets of finely layered scales, red and white with highlights of green in them. He shifted back into his preferred form, the muscular earth pony, and slipped into a black tunic with a chainmail shirt over it, then put a gold and indigo tabard on over that. He ties a belt around his waist, with a scabbard bearing an old, well-maintained rapier, the blade thrumming in anticipation of work, and he sighs.
Rapier met Princess Luna at the gates to Canterlot Castle, and salutes her. “Ready, Your Majesty?” He asks.
Luna returns the salute, and she walks off toward Canterlot Square, where the Commons used to be, Rapier off to her side and enjoying the sight of the Lunar Princess’ plot as subtly as any guard could be expected to. Luna’s dress, a thin yet modest violet sundress, glimmered in the noonday sun, her body lithe and tall, her indigo mane shimmering like a star field at night.
As the two of them entered the city proper, Rapier took the lead, his muscular frame filling the chainmail and shirt he wore in a way that Luna appreciated. She saw the rapier on his belt and smiled, recognizing the not only the weapon but also the spirit within it. The crowd watched and whispered, and her ears took in all the words spoken, how some of the crowd, mares and stallions alike, were speechless at her beauty.
Rapier, meanwhile, was listening to the crowd, an eye open for any threats. Or at least, he was, until another voice, sinister, silky-smooth, spoke up. ‘Little larvae, return to your mother… Your work is done here…’ He shook his head and focused himself, but was unable to place the source, as Luna walked into Pony Joe’s. “We hope you don’t mind donuts, Sergeant, but Our sister likes cake more than is healthy for a mare of any age, so we can’t have it.” Rapier stifles a laugh, and smiles.
“His eclairs are delicious.” Rapier says. “He says he makes them with love, but I think he’s using some kind of super-heavy cream to make them.” The lunar diarch giggles.
“We prefer his cinnamon twists.” Luna replies. “It pairs well with his Saddle Arabican blend.” She says.
“I’m preferential of his Neighruvian blend.” He says. “Kind of bitter, with a very nice kick.”
“Thou should meet Our barista, Sgt. Platine.” She says, as the duo approaches Pony Joe’s. Rapier gets the door, and Luna enters first.
“Good morning, Princess Luna.” Pony Joe says. “We’ve got a special today, buy a cup of Neighruvian, get one free!” He points to the sign, and Luna smiles.
“We’ve been recommended that blend personally, so yes, We will take that offer. Six cinnamon twists, six chocolate eclairs, and two boxes of glazed, one honey, the other chocolate.” The earth pony confectioner rings it up, and Rapier pulls his wallet off of his scabbard, and pays for it, making Luna blush.
“It’s my honor, your Majesty.” Rapier says.
“Th-thank you, Sgt. Platine.” She replies, and Rapier gets his change back. The two of them take a seat at a table near a window overlooking the Market District, watching the ebb and flow of the crowd while they wait for their coffee to be brought to them. Pony Joe brings two cups of coffee and the donuts they ordered.
“I’m working on your boxes right now, Your Majesty, Sergeant Platine.” He says, and the two ponies smile at him.
“On behalf of the Royal Guards, I thank you, Pony Joe.” Rapier says as he takes an eclair and eats it, taking a sip of coffee. Luna smiles when she takes a sip of her coffee.
“We see what thou mean. This is an EXCELLENT cup of coffee.” She says. “We’ll have to introduce you to our Barista after this.” The two finish their lunch and stand up. Rapier stacks the plates and a unicorn mare grabs them in her magic. He leaves a sizable tip for the mare, and the pair leave. “From here, We shall return to the castle. You will be relieved of duty for the day upon our return.” She says and Rapier smiles.
“Understood, your Majesty.” He salutes, and she returns it so they can leave. Pony Joe brings the boxes of donuts, and Rapier takes them. The return to the castle is uneventful, and upon their arrival, Luna relieves Rapier of duty for the day. Rapier goes to his quarters, and sits on his bunk. His eyes catch the mirror, and a sinister face, a mare’s, but with the familiar fangs and gnarled horn of a changeling, gazes at him.
‘Little grub, return to your mother, your work is done.’ The voice from earlier speaks, the mirror suffused with a sickly teal aura. ‘You don’t need to worry about it anymore.’
Rapier’s mind rang as the changeling in the mirror tried to influence him, but he knew he had to do something. So he got up, and he picked the mirror up, smashing it on the floor, passing out atop the shards of broken glass. He comes to a few hours later, Godspeed and Swift Wind watching him.
“Sergeant, are you all right? You aren’t hurt, are you?” Godspeed says as Swift Wind helps him up.
“What are you two doing in here?” Rapier asks, and the twins look at him.
“We heard your mirror shatter, sergeant, and we came into investigate, only to find you unconscious.” Swift Wind says as he sweeps the glass up with his wings, and puts them into the garbage bin in the room.
“Get that mirror out of here, Corporal.” He says. “I’m going into town. I need to think and to get that damn voice out of my head.” Swift Wind salutes, and Godspeed follows Swift Wind out of the room. Rapier heads back to Canterlot, and goes toward the Lead District, a lower class area with several Guard-frequented pubs, and goes to the Candle and Canter, arriving to see it nearly empty. The bartender, an orange maned, brown furred unicorn mare, smiles.
“Hello, Sergeant.” She says, before grabbing a chilled glass in her aura. “What would you like?”
“Some of the strongest cider you’ve got.” He says. “Preferably on ice.” He sits at the bar. “Where is everyone? Usually there’s at least a couple teams of guards in here.”
“Apparently there was some kind of bustle downtown.” The mare says noncomittally, pouring a glass of the cider and sliding it to him. He sniffs it, smiles, and drinks it. The unicorn smiles and pours him another glass. He starts drinking each glass as it’s slid to him, and his eyes go heavy.
“Whuh? Huh?” He collapses, and the unicorn smirks.
His eyes open, trapped in a pod. The changeling from the mirror looked at him, and smirked maliciously. “I warned you, little larvae…” She laughs, and he struggles against the pod, trying to escape.
Author's Note
This is my first story. Feel free to savage me in the comments about just how terrible my writing is.
On a more serious note, writing in the Royal We is perplexing, especially when you have to take Luna's Old Equestrian dialect into consideration.
