It was dark. Very dark.

Good.

Ash Spade liked the dark. An elite soldier, she epitomized a creature of the night. A nocturnal, skulking presence. The signs of her passing as ephemeral as a whisper under the light of the moon--

“Ow, no mames!” Apparently, night-vision only helped if you were paying attention. Get it together, Ash. It was just a rock… a very large, very pointy rock.

When she’d stubbed her hoof and jumped, her armour rattled; she just didn't feel “official” without it. Being quiet was the most important part, though, and nopony heard her.

Not yet anyway.

Ash wondered when (if ever) the voices in her head would become cooperative, rather than combative.

Whatever, Ash, ignore them. If any pony asks, you were just out for an evening stroll...

Yeah, after midnight. In a stranger’s flower-bed. Decked-out in full combat-gear.

Who else would be up this late anyway?

The thestral carefully and quietly crept her way around the perimeter of the house. Her initial survey concluded yielded as much tasty information as the few flowers she’d sampled during her search (they’d already fallen off the stem so it wasn’t stealing). First, she determined that almost all of the windows were covered-- somewhat of a problem in Ash's opinion; while her own batpony eyeballs could easily pierce the veil of night, solid objects like curtains were still a bit of a problem (even for the most advanced and illustrious veterans of the Lunar Guard).

Which we’re not, another voice so kindly reminded her.

She kicked her left foreleg dismissively.

A quick investigation of the house's layout didn't immediately reveal anything out of the ordinary; she saw a living room, kitchen, bedrooms, bathrooms, etc. Ash scratched her head (somewhat of a challenge to do through her antique helmet). Technically, she didn't have to wear the thing when on “covert operations” like this, but rescinding protocol even a little bit was the first step down a path that could uproot all life in Equestria as she knew it.

Her commanding officer frequently told her she worried too much; she frequently told her CO she would take it under advisement. Getting orders from Princess Celestia though... that was different.

The Princess’ request was simple enough, in and of itself-- just observe a pony in her ranks (a reserve in the other guard). Frankly, he just seemed like one of many dead-eyed day-walkers who enjoyed standing in empty hallways and staring into space. She knew his face and name (Brick Break), but not a whole lot more than that; he relieved some of her friends on Third Shift during the week and played on the Royal kickball and calcio storico teams. Plus, he was big-- like, tall and jacked; that papacito could bench-press her in full plate-armour if he wanted to.

An impressive feat, considering your weight, heifer.

Ash’s right eye twitched at the mental remark; she ignored the tic, returning to her current task. The “mission” was a bit boring, yeah, but it beat paperwork and encyclopedias on tracking constellations and auditing weather-patterns. Being personally picked by the Princess for a special assignment had to count for something too, and that improved her odds of getting into the Dreamguard.

If we succeed.

She was keeping an eye out for oddies, at Princess Celestia's request. There wasn’t much to go on, based on her “mission-briefing” (which was way more informal than she would’ve expected): something about the stallion’s mannerisms & mood unsettled Princess Celestia; he was being more reclusive and aloof lately. That was the jist of it. Ash didn’t really see isolation as a bad thing and certainly not a cause for concern; in fact, the way her whole family obsessively pushed for her to not be so introverted (not be herself) seemed more unhealthy than whatever problem they insisted she had.

What’s so fun about hanging around with other ponies anyway?

She wasn’t just about to say that to her boss and the country’s only ruling monarch, though. Ash Spade might not come from a long line of Baltimare tycoons or Cloudsdale stormsayers or Hayseed Swamp bootleggers, but her abuela taught her better than to question Princess Celestia. Heck, if the Princess had asked Ash to borrow anything as evidence from the house after her check-up, the thestral would have done so without hesitation.

Ash tried to pay attention during her brief briefing, but she’d mostly been on edge; to be fair, it was her first time ever being within touching distance of the Princess, let alone actually talking to her. It was surreal. The Sun’s Avatar wasn’t known to socialize with her more nocturnal little ponies, outside of the Dreamguard.

Yet, here was Ash-- outside another pony's house in the dead of night, on the orders of Princess Celestia herself. Waiting, so she could… well, she wouldn’t call it spying.

That wasn't right; Princess Celestia didn’t have spies.

Surveillance! Domestic surveillance.

Mostly, she just tried not to think about it. Her abuela suggested Ash start keeping a diary journal to avoid negative thoughts, and that had been pretty helpful until she burned it (sort of kind of on accident); she could be a pyromaniac at times. Aaaaanyway...

Ash Spade unfurled her leathery wings and silently leapt into the air, navigating onto a neighboring rooftop for better vantage into the second story’s windows. The bathroom’s shutters were closed (makes sense), and one of the bedrooms actually looked like its window was recently replaced with more wall; that was at least a little suspicious. However, shifting shadows in the third (and final) window suddenly distracted her. That had been Brick Break alright, the subject of her assignment and the one she was supposed to check-in on.

You mean spy on? two particularly unhelpful voices chimed in unison.

“A good-natured fly-by at the behest of a superior,” Ash retorted under her breath.

Ash was sure Princess Celestia's intentions were nothing but the most good-natured type of wholesomeness and professionalism. Though, that begged the question: what exactly was she doing in the subject’s bedroom at this hour of night (without any security!), and why the flip was she swabbing the back of her throat with his--

Her left foreleg kicked out involuntarily and her right eye twitched as her ears flopped against her helmet in shock. She thanked the stars above that her tics were all spasmodic, rather than auditory; otherwise, she probably would’ve shouted several obscene things, very loudly.

Ash blinked before rubbing both her eyes in disbelief. Night-vision could play tricks on you, but never anything that would warrant completely mistaking one pony for another, especially since the Princess was so tall and so... regal? Ash Spade bit her tongue. She was no good at describing things properly; paperwork and itemized reports at least had that going for them. It was definitely Princess Celestia, though; Ash knew that for sure. No wig in Equestria was magically well-endowed enough to realistically mimic the awesome sheen and shimmering shades of the alicorn’s mane (much to the chagrin of Canterlot’s druids and magi); that’s what beauty-magazines would have her believe anyway.

Her mind strained for some sort of excuse, some explanation for the disturbing(ly arousing) scene unfolding before her virgin eyes. She was blushing now, and her pupils averted away from the two ponies out of modesty, focusing instead on the shelves of sports-almanacs and geography-books in Brick’s room.

Maybe he’s blackmailing her.

For once, Ash appreciated her mind’s cynical words, but Princess Celestia didn’t look upset at all; if anything, the alicorn seemed enthusiastic… Then again, looks could be deceiving.

Ha, or she’s an exhibitionist! Imagine that-- the first meaningful assignment of your career just a ruse to help another mare get off. Cuck.

At that, the thestral frowned and stubbornly forced herself to watch the salacious acts inside the bedroom. “Well, if I’m a cuck, you’re a cuck too, cabróna.”

Ash’s frown quickly softened, however, and her blush deepened. Things were definitely heating up in there; just watching the two of them had her feeling a little hot under the collar, and that wasn’t the only part of her anatomy affected by her observations. Images of the illicit affair branded onto her mind, Ash laid down to catch her breath; she was feeling a bit light-headed. Now was not the time for distractions.

“Should I include this in my report…?” she wondered. “Probably not.” After all, how would she feel if she turned to someone else for help, only to have the other pony record all the intimate details of her misfortune and immortalize them in writing?

If Princess Celestia was being blackmailed or abused, documenting every excruciating detail seemed wrong-- like taking pictures of a war-crime. Should she even mention what she saw in her debriefing? The Princess’ request was a bit informal, though it didn’t seem like something with the potential to be turned down. That could turn awkward fast.

More awkward than quid pro quo rape? Wow, Ash, I’m sure Princess Celestia would definitely prefer that to any awkwardness.

Way to think about yourself, selfish cunt.

She let the words roll off her back with years of experience; negative thoughts wouldn’t improve her situation.

Oo, we should get that crocheted on a pillow!

“Uuugh.” Ash dragged an armoured hoof down her face. Already, her head was reeling at the notion of that report. She needed a long, candlelit bubble-bath with some chicharrónes and tepache as soon as she got home-- either that or some sweet potato fries, Caf-Pow!, and a long session with her drum-kit; her mother tried to get her to play marimbas, but they sorely lacked punch. And her abuela always reminded her to steer clear of alcohol and caffeine too, but one of the two was definitely warranted tonight-- “addictive personality” be damned.

Did we even check her cutie mark?

We were staring at her ass long enough—

Ash Spade took a deep breath. She held it in her chest, steadying herself to calm her haywire mind. Raising herself (and her heavy armour) up, Ash sneaked one last peak into the adjacent building, silencing her doubts with the sight of Princess Celestia’s cutie-mark.

“Yup, definitely her… for better or worse.” With that, she slinked off the roof and glided down to the ground. She wasn’t too concerned about being seen by Brick or Princess Celestia; the former seemed especially lucky at the moment, and the latter… Well, no pony with her mouth that full would pay much attention to fleeting shadows outside.

For now, she had notes to make; from there, she could decide what to write in her report, if she even wanted to draft one. One thing was sure, though: if she planned on a summary-report for the debriefing, “Princess Celestia could suck the layers off a jawbreaker” and “She’s probably related to a vacuum-cleaner” were not acceptable conclusions.

Funny hahas aside, the situation was still ambiguous; she didn’t fully understand why Princess Celestia chose her or what the alicorn expected her to do. Anything Ash could do, the alicorn could do, like, 10 times faster (and better to boot). Ash could probably hold off on reporting to the Princess for a while; the two of them didn’t regularly see each other, and that would give her some more time to figure out what the nubs was going on. Eventually, the Princess would want some answers, though. But that was a problem for future Ash.

Whatever.

The night was even more empty than usual. She could see bats darting between street-lamps, snacking on late-night mosquitoes. And the moon... she'd forgotten to mention before, hadn't she? It was a new moon; maybe that was important.

Maybe not.

Ash shook her head once, twice. Then, she took off into the night.

Shadows danced along the marble walls of Canterlot Castle as Frosty walked alongside Chrysalis. The pegasus couldn't remember how their conversation had started, but dreams rarely obeyed logical things like the laws of physics and chronological order.

Chrysalis reprimanded the smaller changeling, a buzzing reverberation in her undisguised voice. “How long will you continue this ruse? How long can you weave this web of lies? It'll strangle you alive. With friendships built on falsehood, you're the dumb leading the blind.”

“Mom, I--”

“I haven't finished, whore!”

Frosty recoiled at her mother's outburst; she knew better than to interrupt. Tears blurred the edges of her vision, and she heard someone whimper.

“Jilk, my little grub.” Chrysalis touched her daughter's chin with a black hoof, and Frosty tried to turn away, but her mother's pheromones sapped what little strength she had. The Queen gazed deep into her subject's eyes, and Jilk felt her willpower wither beneath the Stare-Master. “Why the Land of the Tyrant Sun? What makes you feel welcome here?”

Her real mother would never ask such things; traitors were drawn and quartered, not courted. Jilk's lips quivered as memories tainted her thoughts. “I miss you... so much, Mom. I miss the Hive; I miss my people, our people... watching all the hatchlings in the Brood Rooms.” The tears in her eyes threatened to overflow, her breathing ragged. “But there's so much wrong there, so much... broken. It's all broken but I can't fix it. The things you did, the things we did. They're wrong, Mom. You're wrong. I, I just... they--”

Chrysalis embraced her daughter; Jilk always wondered what that would feel like. Her mother's hard chitin felt strange against the pegasus' coat.

“Shh, sh, sh. Be still, be calm.”

Jilk didn't dare to return the touch, even as Chrysalis stroked her mane; the Queen had crushed changelings for less... but Jilk had already spoken out of place, criticized-- subverted-- the Queen.

Perhaps it didn't matter in dreams.

She hugged her mother back, tentatively.

“It's alright, it's alright.” Chrysalis rocked her daughter back and forth. Jilk sniffled. “It's all just dialectics, Jilk... To and fro, left and right, mares and stallions, day and night.” Jilk recognized the changeling nursery-rhyme. “North and south, east and west, oppressors versus the oppressed. Our world is rich with contradictions: opposites, thesis and antithesis. Equine and insect, oil and water. Us... versus them. Ponies are emotional beings, Jilk; no one denies that. But you also can't change it; you can't reason with emotional creatures. And when persuasion fails, when reason fails, what recourse remains? What alternative is there to force?”

Chrysalis paused, and silence ensured. Jilk kept her mouth closed, unsure whether her mother genuinely wanted an answer; either way, Jilk didn't have one.

“They're not like us, Jilk. They don't look like us; they don't see like us. They don't hear, hatch, or think like us. They have their own nation, their own laws, their own... Equestrian morals.”

Chrysalis rubbed her daughter's back slowly, and Jilk heard her mother's voice turn distant.

“When the Warrior-Princess scorched our soil and left wastelands in her wake, I built my throne to defend the blood of our people. We're a race without land, cast out... but before I die, the changelings will reclaim their living space. Before I die, we'll have both blood and soil. I lost one to Her wretched colonizers; they shall not harm the other.”

Jilk looked up at her mother, her mind drowning in tears and philosophy. “I... I don't understand.”

Chrysalis sighed and broke their hug. “No, Jilk, you never have. Evidently, this I cannot teach you; perhaps, only She can show you. I've tried to touch your heart, but it lies beyond my reach. Follow your mind and you'll come to find... there's nothing for you here.”

With that parting thought, the apparition of Queen Chrysalis stepped aside, dissolving into the dreamscape. The grand doors to Canterlot Castle's throne-room replaced her, and Jilk felt her body moving through them.

Inside, stained glass windows adorned every wall, and two faceless soldiers flanked the alicorn's throne. Celestia noticed the approaching pegasus. The guards readied their weapons. Then, the Princess addressed Jilk, and the Royal Canterlot Voice shook the hall's foundations; it sounded ancient. Godly. Wrathful.

“CHILD OF MY ENEMY, why have you come? I offer no forgiveness; the Leech-Queen's sins live on in her spawn.”

The Princess' hard eyes bored deep into Jilk's soul, staring straight through her disguise. She felt naked, exposed-- as if all the caverns in the world couldn't hide her from the Sun's Avatar. Jilk bowed.

“A-Asylum, Your Highness. I seek sanctuary, to petition your mercy.”

“Ha!” the Princess barked. “The thief requests that which is already stolen.” Celestia looked over Jilk's body with disgust. “I know of no other creature to greet a mother in the skin of her own dead children.”

“Please, Princess, I--”

“SILVER TONGUE, do not speak unless spoken to!” The sunlight outside flared, matching the monarch's tone. Jilk raised her right wing to shield her face from its intensity. “Your mother was right to mark you for extermination. A pity she excluded the rest of your malignant race...”

The sunshine subsided, and Jilk lowered her wing to the sound and smell of something smoldering. Her eyes widened and mouth opened wordlessly at what awaited: wreathed in flame and fury, every changeling's nightmare loomed over her-- Daybreaker. Molten gold dripped from the fiery alicorn's feathers, pooling on the floor below.

The castle around them crumbled away as the earth split and veins of lava streaked the world around them. A great volcano rumbled out of the ground in the distance. The heavens blackened with soot until naught but the Sun shone alone in the sky. Legions of bronze bulls marched past both ponies, and Jilk heard a thousand screams echo in their bellies. Behind Daybreaker hovered the six Ophanim of Harmony, arranged in a terrible pentagram. The Hive's cave-paintings couldn't hold a candle to this glimpse of the apocalypse.

Sweat drenching her silver coat, Jilk scrambled backwards. She tried to shed her pegasus form, to free her horn and cast some spell-- any spell-- to defend herself from the biblical monster. Nothing happened as the temperature climbed. She begged, cried, pleaded for her life, but the tyrant only cackled like the crackling of a wildfire. With a swirl of her horn, Daybreaker summoned a raging firestorm, and tongues of cinder lapped at Jilk's legs, searing away her fur to reveal the charred black chitin beneath. Jilk clenched her eyes shut, tears streaming down her face, and dreaded the end.

Time passed... and silence reigned.

Slowly, Jilk opened one eye. Then, the other.

Nothing. Darkness.

The pain had subsided.

Her eyesight adjusted to the night, absorbing ambient moonlight. She was in bed... with Brick. She could hear him breathing beside her. She was Frosty; she was safe. Drenched in sweat, shaken by fear, still in Celestia's body, but safe...

For now.

She closed her eyes. She remembered Daybreaker, remembered Queen Chrysalis, remembered being an outcast. An unwelcome fugitive in Equestria, with a bounty on her head.

Changelings would come; soldiers would come-- the moment someone unsavory learned her identity, everything would come crashing down. Her job, her friends, her home... Brick. Mere hours ago, she'd cowered in the kitchen while Brick answered the door. At a moment's notice, the simple sound of a hoof on wood thrust her entire life into limbo; meanwhile, she waited to hear whether mercenaries would whisk her corpse away in the night or whether the neighbor simply wished to return some misplaced mail.

How long can you weave this web of lies?

Frosty shivered as cold sweat trailed down her back. She reclined and cuddled close to Brick... her rock and her protector. She felt her tears stain his cheeks; it didn't matter. He'd think she drooled on him in her sleep, just like every other night. She smiled at the absurdity of it-- a shallow, empty smile.

Frosty didn't care about Winter Wrap Up anymore; she just wanted to stay here, where it was safe. Safe with him. Safe with Brick. Her eyes stung with fatigue, so she closed them; ideally, she wouldn't dream. She'd just fall asleep and never wake up... fall asleep and hold him forever.

Author's Note

"Here's a challenge for anyone interested: there's a total of nine intentional references in this short story (to cinema/television series, literature, memes, political philosophies, video-games); for the first person to find & list all nine, I'll send you $200 USD (via PayPal)." -Miss Direction

12-16-2020 EDIT: "Congratulations to reader ClosetKnight for posting all nine of the intentional references after four weeks & collecting the $200 reward!" -MD