Learning to Let Go

Ocellus bowed to Princess Cadance, hoping she’d correctly remembered the angle Professor Rarity had taught their class, years ago.

“Thank you again for agreeing to host, Your Highness,” she said. She still remembered how Gallus had scoffed at the idea of any of them needing to know how to talk to a Princess. “I am sure this is far more comfortable for our guests than if they had had to venture further south.”

She still wasn’t sure she believed Headmare Starlight when she’d said that she was the best creature for this job. Not when whenever she hazarded a glance up at the Princess, she couldn’t help but remember the first time she’d seen her: dimly, through the green haze of a cocoon.

She’d been just past her nymph stage, then, but some things you remember.

Ocellus wondered if Princess Cadance found it similarly strange, to look upon a being from the race that had captured her and left her to die and almost stolen her beloved and destroyed the kingdom she loved, and then captured her and her husband again.

She was probably the first changeling who’d been this far north other than King Thorax himself.

… She was also probably overthinking things again.

Princess Cadance smiled at her. “It is my pleasure. We also appreciate the opportunity to forge stronger bonds with the snowponies.”

A joyous shriek pierced the air from … outside? Ocellus did her best to hide her startled twitch, and the Princess’ smile turned warmer. “And to find unexpected companionship for my daughter.”

Ocellus blinked. Princess Cadance tilted her head towards the exit to the large receiving hall. “Shall we?”

She started gracefully in that direction, and Ocellus hastily followed, subtly lengthening her legs to keep pace. “Your Highness, if you’d like to direct me where to go, I don’t want to keep you from your busy schedule –”

Princess Cadance shook her head, looking amused. “It is no trouble at all. As you can see –”

They stepped into the bright sunlight, and Ocellus didn’t even have time to properly adjust her eyesight before a projectile came flying towards –

“Princess!”

Magic flared from the Princess’ horn and the projectile arrested itself a mere hoofwidth from her face.

The …

… ball?

“– As you can see,” Princess Cadance continued, gesturing towards the courtyard and the ponies within – particularly a gangly alicorn with wings almost as large as the rest of her – “I have business of my own here.” She raised her voice. “Flurry! Time to come inside!”

Not just Princess Cadance’s daughter, but the young snowpony beside her looked up from the set of chalk-drawn squares surrounding them. The latter looked from the princess to Ocellus herself, and her dense fur stood on end for a moment before she squeaked and dashed away to hide behind … her mother? Another snowpony with similarly two-toned fur, pale shading into a warm brown near their fetlocks that reminded Ocellus of Smolder’s hot chocolate.

Ocellus had known this was a bad idea. But Headmaster Starlight had insisted.

A gentle hoof landed on her shoulder, and she blinked up at Princess Cadance. The Princess smiled. “She’s just shy,” she said. “Much as I imagine you might have been, once?”

Ocellus swallowed, and smiled back. “Thanks,” she said.

She strode over to the two other ponies, smiling. “Silver Flurry? My name is Ocellus. I’ve been sent to guide you back to the School of Friendship.”

The smaller snowpony peeked out. “But what if they hate me? I’ll be the only one like me there.”

Ocellus crouched. “They won’t.” She winked, shifting into her usual pony form. She didn’t use it often anymore, but it still felt like wrapping herself in a comfortable old blanket. “I should know. I was the only one once, too.”

Silver Flurry’s eyes widened. “What are you?” she whispered.

Ocellus had heard a lot of pony myths about changelings over the years. From the stories she’d read in the school library, to fascinated students wanting to sort fact from fiction, to hissed conversations on the city streets.

Some claimed that changelings could read ponies’ emotions like an open book; Ocellus had always thought that sounded exhausting. But it didn’t take supernatural empathy to hear wondering, not hostility, in the filly’s tone.

She shifted back. “I’m a changeling. We’re from the desert southwest of Equestria. So not quite as far from home as you will be, but it still seemed very far when I first arrived.”

“Weren’t you scared?”

“Oh, I was terrified.” Ocellus smiled, remembering. “But I met some of my best friends there; creatures I’m still friends with to this day.” She … probably should skip the part where she impersonated a teacher so they could skip class, though, now that she had a reputation to uphold.

“Maybe I could come too!” Ocellus blinked as a blur of pastel colors leapt into her peripheral vision, wings spread wide to soften her landing. “Then you’d already have a friend there.”

Flurry Heart beamed at Silver Flurry, and the snowpony smiled hesitantly back, stepping out from behind her mother to look between her and Ocellus with clear interest.

Ocellus had tried to explain to her friends once that finding love to feed on was like catching an updraft – she didn’t see the shift in the air, she just knew it was there.

(The other flyers had all nodded immediately. Sandbar had frowned, and asked if it was like catching a wave, then insisted on dragging them all out surfing when no one understood his analogy. Their surfboards had … mostly survived the experience.)

Love abounded in the Crystal Empire, particularly near the royal family. The smaller eddies almost blended in with the rest, but Ocellus thought she sensed burgeoning friendship, and joy sparking at the idea of adventure. (There were so many kinds of love.)

It reminded her of herself, before – well. In hindsight, she did not regret having been denied the opportunity to go out on love-collecting expeditions. But that was another time, and surely there was no harm in letting a young princess see more of the world.

“I’ll have to check with the Headmare first, but I doubt she’d object.”

If sensing love felt like catching an updraft, fear – the one other emotion most tightly bound to a changeling’s survival – felt like the prick of a hundred tiny needles.

Ocellus shifted, trying to glance subtly at the source of the needles, and smiled weakly. “... With your mother’s permission, of course?”

Ocellus stood on one of the public open-air balconies of the Crystal Palace, looked out across the city, and tried not to fret. She hadn’t been explicitly accused of trying to kidnap Flurry Heart yet.

The Crystal Heart hovered far beneath her hooves, out of sight but inescapably present in how the currents of love swirled around and through it.

Needles prickled. Ocellus turned and bowed. “Princess Cadance.”

The much taller alicorn raised a hoof. “At ease. This is not an official state visit, simply … a conversation, I hope.” She moved gracefully to join Ocellus at the railing, looking south.

“If you will forgive me an importunate question,” she said, glancing sidelong at Ocellus. “Is it true, what they say about changelings? That you can sense emotion?”

Ocellus half-smiled. “Not so clearly as the stories like to claim. But enough to recognize how full of love this kingdom is, and enough to recognize that I … discomfited you, earlier.”

“Frightened me, you mean,” Cadance said. “I had wondered. I … apologize for that.”

Ocellus shook her head vigorously. “I should have remembered that pony customs are different, and not said what I did. And after everything my people has done to you and your family, it’s only reasonable to –”

Cadance raised her hoof again. “It is not the changelings I fear,” she said quietly. “Do you have children, Ocellus?”

She shook her head slowly.

“When they are first born, they are so small, and so helpless, barely even able to stand on their own four feet,” Cadance said. “Even with so much magic that she half-destroyed the palace several times, there was no guarantee Flurry would have been able to protect herself if something were to – happen. We were worried, at times, that if her magic were to flare in just the wrong way, she might even hurt herself. Even now –” she shook her head. “It’s too early.”

Ocellus hesitated.

“You disagree?”

“I don’t think I know enough to agree or disagree. I think we changelings grow up … very differently,” Ocellus said. “But I felt – love of the world. Love of discovery. I do not think she would be happy to be confined to just this kingdom indefinitely.”

“Of course I wouldn’t keep her here forever,” Cadance said, a bit too hastily. “Just … I can’t let her go just yet.” She glanced back down at Ocellus. “Did your mother not worry, when you were sent off to the School of Friendship on your own?”

“Why would she?” Ocellus asked, blinking. “My younger siblings needed oversight, yes, to ensure they didn’t trip off a too-high platform before they learned how to safely glide down. But I was already a full adult, if barely, when our family formed. She knows I can take care of myself.”

“Formed?” Cadance asked, clearly startled. “So you are adopted?” She paused and then said, very slowly, “Did you not … have a family, before you transformed?”

“How do you define family?” Ocellus asked. “We were all part of the Hive, bound to serve our Queen. We,” she paused, feeling the faded remnants of memories she usually preferred to leave dormant flare briefly back to life, “would have done anything for her, most of us.”

She shrugged. “Does that make all of us siblings, and her our mother? She always claimed that what she did was in the best interests of the Hive. And she … usually did not spend our lives recklessly.”

“You love Queen Chrysalis,” Cadance said, wonderingly but with such certainty that Ocellus had to resist the urge to flee.

“If you see that, it must be true,” she said bleakly. “Back then, yes, we all did – not love like we can experience it now, of course, giving and receiving in turn. But why else would we have given up all the love we gathered, if not for our Queen?”

She hadn’t ever gone out gathering, no. But she hated remembering just how much she’d wanted to.

“When we transformed, it felt like a fog had lifted. And I had hoped – every time I visit Canterlot, I go by the stone gardens, and stare up at her face, and tell her I’m glad we’re all free of her now.” She clenched her forehooves around the railing. “I am glad.”

A gentle hoof fell on her shoulder. “Love can be a very complicated emotion,” Cadance said. “And not always… kind. There is no shame in still feeling something, even for one who has brought you such pain.”

“Will it ever go away?” Ocellus asked, her voice a near-whisper.

“I cannot see the future,” Cadance said. “But injuries, even to the heart, often heal with time.”

“It’s been years.”

“And does it hurt as much as it used to?”

“I’m … not sure.” Ocellus swallowed. “But I think talking about it might have helped a little bit.”

She’d have a lot to share at the feelings forum, the next time she went home. She wondered what everyling else would think. Maybe talking about it with them would help, too.

Cadance smiled down at her, a bit sadly. “I’m glad. And I’m sorry that this is not the sort of broken heart that my powers can fix.”

“It’s probably better this way anyway,” Ocellus said wryly.

Cadance nodded. “It is.” She hesitated for a moment, then said, “You really think Flurry feels confined here? Even with –” she gestured, outwards and down, and Ocellus again felt the warm breeze of the Crystal Heart; the tapestry of this city’s love spreading out beneath their hooves.

“I – it’s not that exact,” Ocellus said. “I know I would, in her place. And I think she might, eventually.”

Cadance huffed out a breath, startling Ocellus with the normalcy of the action, and then shook her head. “Well, perhaps it’s time I start asking whether she’s ready, even if I’m not yet.” A nod. “Thank you for sharing. And … good luck.”

Ocellus smiled hesitantly. “Good luck to you, too.”

Silver Flurry’s mother kept up a quiet stream of advice all the way to the train station in a dialect Ocellus couldn’t quite parse, so engrossed that she barely noticed Ocellus shifting to yak form. (Honestly, the best option for cold weather.)

Silver Flurry nodded along, intent, until she saw Flurry Heart standing beside her mother at the station and immediately broke away, launching herself at her new friend.

Her mother watched her go. Thinking about bonds, and readiness, Ocellus said, “Friends and Family Day is about a month after the semester begins. You are welcome to attend, if you’d like? … It is much warmer, though.”

Her mother smiled. “I appreciate the invitation. We will consider it.”

They reached the station just in time to see Silver Flurry step back, clearly disappointed. “You’re not coming after all?”

Flurry Heart shook her head. “Not this year. But mom said she’d help me with my application for next year.” She grinned. “You’ll just have to make lots of new friends so you can introduce me to all of them.”

“It’s a promise!”