Applied Mathemagics

I stand there for a moment, forehead still against the door, taking a slow, deep breath.

I can already hear the conversation happening over at the Boutique.

Rarity, gasping dramatically. Twilight, getting way too excited. Maybe even Applejack, nodding along like this is just some natural course of events.

I groan. “Unbelievable.”

I turn back toward my workshop, my eyes landing on Rachel, who, mercifully, had remained silent during all of that.

At least she doesn’t talk.

I sigh, rubbing my temple. “What do you think, Rachel? If I added enough ‘if-then’ conditions to you, do you think they’d believe I was dating you?”

Of course, she doesn’t answer.

She just stands there, stone-faced and annoyingly attractive in a way that only makes this whole situation more embarrassing.

I grumble to myself, already imagining the absolute disaster that would unfold if Twilight or Rarity found out I built an artificial girlfriend just to avoid this nonsense.

Then again… if they did believe it, maybe they’d stop trying.

I shake my head. No. That’s insane. Even for me.

Still.

I glance at Rachel again.

“…You’re lucky you’re useful,” I mutter, before making my way back to my notes.

I need to get my mind off this. Back to work. Back to not dealing with whatever insane romance drama is now circling around me like a pack of hungry vultures.

I pick up my quill, flip open my rune book, and start sketching.

If I just focus, maybe—

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

I freeze.

The door.

I close my eyes, mentally preparing myself for whoever is about to make my life worse.

I exhale sharply, walking over and pulling it open.

“Oh, good!” Twilight beams at me, entirely too happy.

I stare.

“Nope.” I start to close the door.

Her magic stops it. “Kinetic.”

I scowl. “You have to give me a break, Sparkle.”

She smirks. “Never.”

Twilight stands there, smug, like she already knows she’s won.

“The girls and I are going on a picnic,” she announces. “And you’re coming.”

I scowl. “No, I’m not.”

She just smiles wider. “Yes, you are.”

I groan, rubbing my temple. “Twilight. We just spent all day together the day before yesterday.”

She hums. “And?”

I gesture vaguely. “And that’s enough socialization for one week.”

Twilight raises an eyebrow. “If you had it your way, you’d be a hermit.”

I cross my hooves. “I don’t see the problem.”

She smirks. “The problem is that we like you, and we're not letting you become a hermit.”

I scowl harder. “I have things to do.”

Twilight tilts her head. “Oh? Like what?”

I freeze.

I can’t tell her about Rachel. Not yet. She did give me the books on runes, but if she finds out I used them to make a six-foot-tall rock waifu, I’ll never hear the end of it.

I scramble for an excuse. “Uh. Research.”

Twilight raises an eyebrow. “Uh-huh. What kind of research?”

I grit my teeth. “Runes.”

She beams. “Perfect! A break will be nice, then.”

I groan loudly, dragging my hooves down my face. “Twilight—”

“C’mon,” she says, turning and already walking off, expecting me to follow. “It’ll be fun. Fresh air. Good food. Great company.”

I don’t move. I don’t respond. I just stand there, my brain spinning in eight different directions.

Because now—now—I know.

That last outing was a date.

For her.

And I was oblivious.

And now I have to sit in a field with her, pretending I don’t know that, while also pretending everything is normal.

Nope.

This is too much.

I take a slow step backward toward my house.

Twilight’s horn glows.

I immediately stop.

I narrow my eyes. “Sparkle.”

She smiles sweetly. “Yes?”

“You wouldn’t.”

Her grin widens. “Try me.”

I sigh deeply, already knowing I’ve lost.

“Fine,” I mutter. “But if this turns into another disaster, I will walk into the Everfree and let nature take me.”

Twilight giggles. “Duly noted.”

I don’t trust her at all.

I sit in the grass, scanning the spread Twilight has put together.

It’s… excessive.

Plates upon plates of different foods, carefully arranged on a checkered picnic blanket. Sandwiches, salads, fruits, pastries—way more than necessary for a simple picnic.

I shoot Twilight a look. “This is a lot.”

She hums, looking entirely too pleased with herself. “I just wanted to make sure there were plenty of options.”

I narrow my eyes. Suspicious.

Still, free food is free food. I start looking for something decent.

I spot a plate of grilled, seasoned fish.

I blink.

Huh. That’s rare. Ponies can eat fish, but it’s mostly a pegasi thing. Most earth ponies and unicorns stick to a vegetarian diet.

I shrug and grab a piece, along with some coleslaw and something that looks like Mexican street corn.

I barely register Twilight making a soft hmm noise as I do.

I pause, looking up. “…What?”

She blinks, too innocent. “Nothing.”

I squint, but move on, grabbing a small side of roasted potatoes.

Another hmm.

I glance up again.

Twilight’s expression is perfectly neutral.

I frown. Weird.

I grab a strawberry and kiwi sandwich.

Hmm.

Now I know she’s doing it on purpose.

I set the sandwich down slowly and narrow my eyes at her.

She just smiles. “Something wrong?”

I gesture vaguely at her. “You keep making noises.”

She tilts her head. “Do I?”

“Yes.”

She shrugs. “Oh. Don’t mind me.”

I don’t believe her, but I’m too hungry to care.

I take a bite of the fish first.

It’s good.

Twilight and the others, meanwhile, are subtly watching me eat it.

I slow my chewing. “…What?”

Applejack raises an eyebrow. “Didn’t take ya for a fish-eater.”

I frown. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

She shrugs. “It’s just not somethin’ ya see every day from unicorns.”

I pause.

Right.

They don’t know.

I clear my throat. “I just… grew up with it.”

Twilight hums again, her eyes sharp with observation.

I scowl. “Stop that.”

She sips her tea, smug as hell.

I get the distinct feeling she’s collecting data on me.

I do not like that feeling.

I shake my head and get back to eating, doing my best to ignore whatever Weird Twilight Thing™ is happening.

For now, at least, it’s just a normal picnic.

Hopefully.

I focus on my food, trying to tune out the very obvious way Twilight is mentally cataloging my every choice like some kind of overenthusiastic scientist.

I grab a slice of Tart de Bry.

"Hmm."

I glare at her.

She blinks, feigning innocence, and takes a dainty sip of her tea.

I exhale sharply through my nose but let it slide, instead tuning into the conversation around me.

Rarity is chatting animatedly with Fluttershy, something about a truly horrendous fabric she encountered the other day.

“It was simply dreadful,” Rarity huffs. “A crime against textiles. I wouldn’t use it to mop my floors.”

Fluttershy nods, her expression sympathetic. “That sounds awful.”

Rainbow Dash stretches her wings. “I still don’t get how fabric can be that bad.”

Rarity gasps. “Rainbow!”

“What? It’s cloth. Just don’t buy it.”

“That’s not the point,” Rarity insists, dramatically pressing a hoof to her forehead. “What if some poor, unsuspecting soul actually wears it?”

Rainbow rolls her eyes. “Then that’s their problem.”

Applejack chuckles. “Sounds like a lotta fuss over nothin’.”

Rarity looks scandalized. “A lot of fuss?! Applejack, fashion is a statement! It’s how we present ourselves to the world! It’s an art!”

Applejack shrugs. “If ya say so.”

Rarity sighs dramatically, turning to Twilight. “At least you understand, don’t you, darling?”

Twilight hums. “I mean, I appreciate aesthetics, but I think I draw the line at textile crimes.”

Rarity sighs again, shaking her head. “Simply uncultured.”

Rainbow snickers. “Y’know, if that’s your biggest problem this week, I think you’re doin’ alright.”

Rarity flips her mane. “That is not the point.”

I snort, popping another piece of kiwi into my mouth. “It’s kinda the point.”

Twilight hmm’s again.

I shoot her another look.

She just smiles, entirely too pleased with herself.

I swear to Celestia, I’m going to flip this entire picnic blanket.

The picnic is going smoothly when a very winded Spike suddenly comes charging across the field.

“Twilight! I… have… lemme just—” He takes a deep breath before letting out a loud belch, producing a scroll in a burst of green flame.

Twilight catches it in her magic, unfurling it as we all watch.

She clears her throat and begins reading.

“Dear Twilight, I am sure you are as excited as I am about the upcoming wedding in Canterlot.”

She pauses, blinking. “Wedding?”

The others perk up, ears twitching.

“I will be presiding over the ceremony but would very much like you and your friends to help with the preparations for this wonderful occasion.”

She skims ahead, eyes scanning the letter.

“Fluttershy, I would like you and your songbird choir to provide the music.”

Fluttershy gasps, holding her hooves to her chest. “Oh my goodness! What an honor!”

“Pinkie Pie, I can think of no one more qualified than you to host the reception.”

Pinkie explodes into movement. “Hip, hip, hooray!” She does a cartwheel for no reason.

“Applejack, you will be in charge of the catering for the reception.”

Applejack tips her hat back, grinning. “Well, color me pleased as punch!”

“Rainbow Dash–”

Rainbow lets out a loud yawn.

Twilight continues.

“...I would very much appreciate it if you could perform a sonic rainboom as the bride and groom complete their ‘I do’s.’”

Rainbow’s eyes snap open, wings flaring out. “YES!”

“Rarity, you will be responsible for designing the dresses for the bride and her bridesmaids.”

Rarity gasps so hard she nearly chokes. “The Princess wants me to—” she starts, before breaking into incomprehensible noises. “A wedding dress? For a Canterlot wedding? I, ah, ooh, oooh!”

And then she drops like a sack of bricks.

Twilight rolls her eyes and keeps reading.

“And as for you, Twilight, you will be playing the most important role of all: Making sure that everything goes as planned. See you all very soon. Yours, Princess Celestia.”

She pauses, frowning. “But… I don’t understand. Who’s getting married?”

Spike scratches his head. “Oh, wait! Uh, I was probably supposed to give you this one first.” He pulls out another scroll and hands it to her.

Twilight snatches it and quickly scans the words.

“Princess Celestia cordially invites you to the wedding of Princess Mi Amore Cadenza and…”

She stops.

Her pupils shrink.

Her face twitches.

“MY BROTHER?!”

I burst out laughing.

The whole table turns to stare at me as I cackle, slamming a hoof against the picnic blanket.

“Oh, that’s GREAT!” I wheeze. “Twilight, your own brother didn’t even tell you?! That’s hilarious!”

Twilight scowls, her face going red for multiple reasons. “IT IS NOT FUNNY!”

I wipe a tear from my eye. “Oh, no, it definitely is.”

The others, meanwhile, have moved past the initial shock and are now actually congratulating her.

“Your brother’s getting married? Congratulations, Twilight!” Applejack beams.

“Yeah, that’s great news!” Rainbow grins.

Twilight, however, is not having it.

“Yeah. Great news.” She glares at the invitation like it personally insulted her. “News that I just got from a wedding invitation. Not from my brother, but from a piece of paper! Thanks a lot, Shining Armor!”

She starts pacing, her tail flicking in irritation.

“I mean, really! He couldn’t tell me personally?!” She deepens her voice in a terrible impression of what I can only assume is her brother. “Hey, Twilight, just thought you should know I’m making a really big decision that changes everything!”

She snorts. “Oh, never mind! You’ll hear about it when you get the invitation!”

Rarity, who has recovered from her fainting spell, coughs delicately. “Well… who exactly is this Princess Mi Amore Cadenza?”

Twilight freezes.

She blinks.

She re-scans the invitation.

“Who in the hoof is that?!” she demands.

I chuckle to myself, leaning back. “Wow. Your own brother and his fiancée didn’t think to tell you. This just gets better and better.”

Twilight glares at me like she’s about to incinerate me with sheer rage.

Before she can explode, though, she scans the page one more time.

And then—

Her eyes narrow.

“Oh, and look at this,” she says pointedly, holding the letter up again. “Princess Celestia also included a special P.S.”

She clears her throat and glares directly at me as she reads.

“P.S. Archmage Kinetic Flux is also to accompany you all to Canterlot to assist with the wedding preparations.”

I freeze.

My ears flick back.

I groan, dragging a hoof down my face. “You have got to be kidding me.”

Rainbow snickers. “Oooooh, Archmage Kinetic, looks like you’re important after all.”

Pinkie bounces in place. “Ooooh! Do you think you get to wear a fancy robe? Or maybe they’ll give you one of those cool wizard hats!”

I scowl. “I am not wearing a hat.”

Applejack smirks. “Ya sure? Seems like a mighty fine occasion to dress up all proper-like.”

Rarity gasps dramatically, clutching her chest. “Oh! If that’s the case, we must get you a suit! Something elegant! Something refined! Something—”

I hold up a hoof. “I own a suit.”

Rarity blinks, looking scandalized. “Oh, darling, you can’t possibly mean—”

“The cheap one. Yes.”

She gasps, genuinely horrified. “You cannot possibly mean to attend a Canterlot Royal Wedding in something cheap!”

I smirk. “Watch me.”

She dramatically falls onto the picnic blanket like I just mortally wounded her.

Twilight watches the exchange with an amused glint in her eye before rolling up the letter. “Well, you’d better start packing, Kinetic.”

I grunt, still not thrilled about it. But, fine. If I have to go, then at the very least, I’m not showing up empty-hooved.

I stand up and shake off some grass. “Fine. I’ll grab my things.”

“See ya at the station!” Rainbow calls.

I ignore her and start heading home.

I step into the H.A.R.D.I.S., letting the door shut behind me with a heavy thud. The silence of the place wraps around me, a stark contrast to the chaos I just left at the picnic.

I sigh, rolling my shoulders. "Alright, let's get this over with."

First things first—my suit. I dig through my drawer, finding the pile of the only three items of clothing I own and yank out the suit. It’s simple, black, nothing fancy. The kind of suit that says, I tried, but not that hard. Perfect.

I toss it onto my bed and turn toward my saddlebags, going over the essentials—bits, a notebook, and the usual travel supplies.

Then my eyes drift toward her room.

Rachel is exactly where I left her, lying on the bed in complete stillness. Her stone form is perfectly motionless, carved with precision, every joint in place. She looks eerily lifelike—human, in a way that nothing else in Equestria is.

I chew the inside of my cheek.

This wedding isn’t just going to be a wedding. I know what’s coming. Changelings. An invasion. A fight.

A fight where I’ll need all the help I can get.

I groan, rubbing the back of my neck. “This is a terrible idea.”

I sigh, stepping forward. “Alright, Rachel. Time to move.”

I clear my throat. "On."

Rachel’s body reanimates. Slowly, she rises from the bed, her movements smooth, joints clicking into place. She stands at attention, waiting for further instruction.

I gesture toward the door. “Follow.”

She moves fluidly, eerily graceful for something made of stone. Her bare feet hit the floor with a dull thud as she follows me out.

This is fine. This is fine.

I sling my saddlebags over my back, grab my suit, and step outside. Rachel follows in silence, like a well-trained construct should.

No one will question this.

No one will say anything.

No one will—

The moment I step onto the train platform, every conversation dies.

Six pairs of eyes immediately zero in on Rachel.

Twilight is the first to react.

“What is that?!” she shrieks.

I scowl. “Gee, Sparkle, I don’t know. Looks like a golem to me.”

“That is not a normal golem!” She gestures wildly at Rachel. “That’s—why does she look like that?!”

Applejack adjusts her hat, eyes narrowing. “And what’s with the, uh... proportions?”

I blink. “What?”

Rainbow snickers. “C’mon, dude. The big flank? The big, uh... everything?”

I freeze.

Pinkie suddenly zips around Rachel, eyes wide. “Ooooh, even her hooves are super detailed! But wait, they’re not hooves! They’re—what are these?”

I grit my teeth. “Feet.”

Fluttershy tilts her head. “Feet?”

I wave my hoof vaguely. “Like hooves, but... different.”

Rarity, who has been silently observing this whole time, suddenly gasps, her eyes sparkling with intrigue. “Ohhh, my stars! Darling, is this what humans look like?!”

I groan. “We are not having this conversation.”

Rarity does not listen. “The proportions! The elegance! The curves! And her attire—why, it almost resembles a leotard!”

Twilight’s eye twitches. “Wait. You made her, right?”

I cross my hooves. “Obviously.”

Twilight levels a look at me. “Then why did you make her like that?”

I cough. “Functional design.”

Rainbow barks out a laugh. “Functional?!”

“Yes,” I say firmly, grasping at anything that sounds remotely logical. “The, uh, shape is necessary for... stability.”

Twilight deadpans. “Stability.”

“Yes.”

Applejack raises an eyebrow. “An’ what about, uh... the chest area?”

I swallow. “Ballast.”

Rainbow doubles over laughing. “Oh, this is gold.”

Rarity is still examining Rachel with open fascination. “And her face, darling—why, she’s positively striking!”

I shrug, forcing a casual tone. “Well, if she can only have one expression, it might as well be a good one.”

Rarity coos in appreciation, while Twilight lets out a frustrated huff. Her ears splay back for a moment before she masks it with a tight smile. I catch the way she eyes Rachel’s face—smooth, sculpted, undeniably human—and sense her unease.

She mutters under her breath, “Looks more than good. Looks like you spent way too much time on every detail.”

I bristle. “It’s just a golem.”

Twilight glares at me. “Sure it is.”

Before I can retort, the stallion at the ticket window clears his throat. “sir?” He points a hoof at Rachel. “You need a second ticket for… that.”

I snap my gaze to him. “She’s not a pony. She doesn’t even need a seat.”

He levels a glare. “If it’s comin’ aboard, it needs a ticket.”

A heavy sigh escapes me. “Fine, fine.” I slap down the bits, feeling an odd pang of guilt flit through my chest. This is all so unnecessary. But… also weirdly my fault.

With two tickets in tow, I step onto the train. Rachel follows silently, drawing stares from every direction. The rest of the girls find their seats—some taking a row together, others spreading out. I sit on one of the cushioned benches.

I try to maneuver Rachel beside me, muttering, “Off,” so she goes inert. With a faint click of her joints, she halts, expression still locked in that cool stare. I start to levitate her gently, aiming to set her on the bench next to me— But Twilight slides into the spot before I can try. I pause, blinking at her sudden intrusion. She’s pointedly not looking at me, but her jaw is tense, ears pinned back.

I hover Rachel in the aisle for a split second, then sigh and gently set her on the floor lean her against the wall. Her expression stays that same neutral pout, eyes half-lidded.

Twilight exhales a sharp little breath “You can’t just—” but she clamps her mouth shut, staring out the window with a dark frown.

I shift uncomfortably, trying not to read into it. Instead, I clear my throat. “So… looking forward to seeing your brother?”

She snorts. “Looking forward to giving him a piece of my mind, maybe.”

Her tail flicks in agitation. She turns a little, glancing in my general direction, but not quite meeting my gaze. “I still can’t believe he didn’t tell me. And who is Princess Mi Amore Cadenza, anyway?”

I shrug. “Maybe he’s busy. Guard captain stuff.”

She scowls at that. “He should’ve written me personally. Or come in pony.” For a moment, she looks like she might rant further, but then her eyes flick toward Rachel—staring, unblinking, from across the aisle—and Twilight’s voice fades. She presses her lips into a thin line and returns to glaring out the window.

I tap my hoof on the seat, unsure how to break the awkward silence. Eventually, I just give up and stare out my own side of the train. The rhythmic clack of the wheels is the only real conversation for a while.

It’s a long trip to Canterlot. And with Twilight stewing over her brother’s wedding—and apparently harboring some other frustration she can’t quite voice—I have a feeling it’s going to feel even longer.

I lean back against the seat, letting my head rest against the cool window. The rhythmic clatter of the train wheels does its best to lull me into a stupor, but unfortunately, the ongoing conversation between Twilight and Applejack makes that impossible.

"Why the long face, sugarcube?" Applejack asks, tilting her hat back as she eyes Twilight with concern.

Twilight sighs, her ears drooping. "I'm just thinking about Shining Armor. Ever since I moved to Ponyville, we've been seeing each other less and less. And now that he's starting a new family with this Princess Mi Amore Ca-whatshername, we'll probably never see each other."

I roll my eyes. Oh no, her grown adult brother has a life outside of her. What a tragedy.

I do my best to tune them out, watching the scenery blur past the window. Maybe if I stare at the hills long enough, I’ll forget that I’m currently being dragged into a wedding I want nothing to do with.

But Twilight, as always, finds ways to make my life harder.

She keeps glancing at me between sentences—just quick little side-eyes.

I ignore it at first. Maybe she’s just fidgety. Maybe she’s still mad that Rachel exists.

She continues, “It’s like, no matter how much I want to stay close to somepony, they just… get distracted with other things. And then suddenly, we barely see each other at all.”

Another pointed glance in my direction.

I exhale through my nose. Here we go.

Applejack, blissfully unaware of the subtext, pats Twilight’s back. “Aw, shoot, Twi. Just ‘cause he’s gettin’ married don’t mean he’ll just up and forget ya. You’re his sister. Family don’t just disappear like that.”

Twilight sighs. “I guess you’re right. But still… he didn’t even tell me about the wedding himself. It’s like he thought I wouldn’t care.”

Another glance.

I look straight ahead, pretending I don’t see it.

Applejack hums. “Well, maybe he just figured ya’d be excited no matter how ya found out?”

Twilight huffs. “That’s not the point. I should have been one of the first ponies he told. Instead, I’m getting invitations and second-hoof information.”

Another glance.

My eye twitches.

I press my hoof against my forehead. Twilight, I swear—

She exhales, shaking her head. “It’s frustrating, you know? Feeling like somepony’s just drifting away from you.”

Another glance.

I snap.

“Oh, for the love of—Twilight!” I throw my hooves up. “Do you need something? Because you keep looking at me like I’m a problem.”

She bristles, her cheeks puffing slightly. “I don’t—” She hesitates. “I mean, maybe!”

I groan. “What now?”

Twilight fidgets, looking like she regrets saying anything. “I just… you have been more distant lately.”

I blink. “Distant? I’ve always been distant.”

Applejack snickers. “He’s got ya there.”

Twilight scowls. “Not this distant. You’ve been more… closed off.” Her gaze flicks to Rachel again. “And distracted.”

I scowl right back. “I’m allowed to have hobbies, Twilight.”

She makes a strangled noise. “That’s not—ugh!”

Applejack wisely decides to stay out of it, leaning back and tipping her hat over her face.

Twilight mutters under her breath, then turns back toward the window, her tail flicking in irritation.

I lean back, rubbing my temple. This is going to be a long train ride.

By the time we get in viewing distance of Canterlot, I’m ready to fling myself off the train just to get away from this nonsense.

As we approach the city, though, something immediately stands out—there’s a forcefield surrounding the entire capital.

I frown, watching as the shimmering dome stretches high over the towers and spires, pulsing with magic.

“What in the hay?” Applejack mutters, tilting her hat back.

Twilight perks up. “A forcefield? That’s—wait. That’s Shining Armor’s magic!” She presses her face against the window. “Why would he put up a defensive barrier?”

I watch as the train barrels forward, heading straight for the shield.

The closer we get, the more I feel it—the unmistakable hum of condensed magical energy, thrumming like an overcharged battery.

Then, we pass through.

The instant the barrier washes over us, I feel a sharp sting along my horn and spine. I wince slightly, my limbs briefly tingling, but the sensation fades as quickly as it came.

I glance around. Nopony else seems to react.

Huh. Weird.

Before I can dwell on it, the train lurches to a stop at the station.

The moment the doors open, Twilight immediately jumps off the train, laser-focused on finding her brother.

The rest of us step out more casually, taking in the sight of a more militarized Canterlot. The usual bustling streets are a little more tense—guards are stationed on every major road, and patrols march in organized formations.

We don’t get long to gawk, though, as a stallion in royal armor trots up to us.

“Miss Rarity?” he asks, looking over the group.

Rarity straightens. “Yes, darling?”

“You’ll be escorted to the palace seamstress wing immediately. The Princess has arranged workspaces for you.”

Rarity beams. “Oh! Wonderful! Right this way, then?”

The stallion nods, leading her off.

A few more guards approach, handing out orders.

“Applejack, you’re to report to the kitchens for preparation duty.”

“Pinkie Pie, the event staff are awaiting you at the reception hall.”

“Fluttershy, your choir has already been gathered at the east garden.”

“Rainbow Dash, the princess has requested a flight briefing before the ceremony.”

Each of them nods and starts heading off in their designated directions, leaving just me.

A final pair of guards stop in front of me.

I raise an eyebrow. “Well? Where’s my grand assignment?”

The taller of the two—built like a brick wall—gives me a once-over. “You’re assigned to security detail.”

I blink. “…Huh.”

That’s… actually reasonable.

I exhale, rolling my shoulders. “Alright. Guess that makes sense. What’s the plan?”

The guard jerks his head toward the castle. “You’ll be briefed inside. Come with us.”

I glance back at Rachel, who still walks with a perfect stride behind me.

The guard looks at her, then at me. “Your… companion will need clearance.”

I sigh. “Yeah, yeah, she’s with me. I’ll handle it.”

The second guard steps forward, nodding. “Then let’s move.”

And just like that, I’m marched off toward my new security post.

This whole thing is going to be a disaster. I can already feel it.

The moment they lead me into the dimly lit tower room, I know something’s off.

One guard stays posted outside while the other steps in with me. The door clicks shut behind us, leaving only the flickering torchlight to cast long shadows against the walls.

I don’t let my posture change, but my magic subtly tightens around the small, compressed piece of chalk I’ve been holding.

Then I see it.

A faint flicker.

The briefest glow of green in the so-called guard’s eyes.

I don’t hesitate.

In a single fluid motion, I launch the chalk at insane speeds.

There’s a sickening crack.

The changeling—because obviously, it’s a changeling—barely has time to react before the projectile strikes dead center in its forehead. The sheer force sends its head whipping back, a jagged hole blasting straight through its skull. The illusion immediately vanishes, revealing a black bug pony.

The thing collapses instantly, twitching once before going completely still.

I blink.

“…Wow. They didn’t waste any time on trying to get me.”

I exhale slowly, already adjusting my strategy.

One changeling down. But the second one outside? It doesn’t know yet.

If the rest of the swarm realizes I’m onto them, all of them are going to be on me in seconds.

I have to make sure that doesn’t happen.

Quickly, I get to work.

First, the body.

I focus my magic, weaving it into the fallen changeling’s corpse. There’s moisture locked in its cells, residual from its biological processes. I systematically begin extracting it, using controlled telekinetic manipulation to force the water molecules to separate from the organic material.

Without moisture, decomposition halts—bacteria can’t break it down, and the flesh becomes brittle, more like dry parchment than a proper corpse.

With that step done, I move to phase two.

Breaking it apart.

Not smashing—separating.

I take hold of the molecular bonds within the changeling’s chitin, muscle, and bone, then systematically weaken the interatomic forces binding them together. Van der Waals forces, hydrogen bonds, ionic links—all of them, broken down piece by piece with meticulous precision.

It’s not fast. Not like combustion or outright destruction. It’s controlled disassembly.

The body starts flaking apart—not like ash, but like an ultra-fine powder. It’s not burning, not breaking, just separating into its base components.

Within seconds, all that remains is a cloud of near-microscopic dust.

I funnel it together into a single, nearly invisible stream, directing it out the only window in the tower's room with a faint pulse of air. The changeling is now nothing more than scattered molecules floating away on the wind.

I exhale, rolling my shoulders.

One problem down.

Now, the other changeling.

I turn back toward the door, my mind already working three steps ahead.

The changeling outside doesn't know what happened. If it did, it would’ve barged in already. That means I have a brief window to sell my next move.

Changelings identify each other using a brief flash of green in their eyes—it’s a subtle tell, but one I can replicate.

I pull some chalk dust out of my bag. Layering just in front of my eyes I will be able to shift the perceived color from my usual gold to green, just a flash, just enough to fool a fool.

I take a breath, letting my posture remain neutral.

Then I open the door.

The guard outside—who is absolutely another changeling—turns toward me immediately, its stance subtly tensed.

For a fraction of a second, I see its muscles coil, ready to strike.

I don’t react.

I just let my gaze lock onto it.

And then—just long enough for it to register—I let my eyes flicker green before quickly scattering the dust, returning my eyes to their natural color.

The changeling freezes.

I stare at it.

It stares at me.

The tension in the air is thick enough to cut with a knife.

I keep my expression carefully controlled. Changelings aren’t stupid. They rely on deception just as much as I do. If I give away even the slightest tell that I’m faking this, I’ll be fighting for my life before I can blink.

The changeling tilts its head slightly, scrutinizing me.

I resist the urge to adjust my stance. Instead, I do exactly what one of them would do—nothing. Just watching. Calculating.

After a long moment, the changeling gives a subtle nod.

I return it with the barest dip of my head.

It steps aside, allowing me to exit.

I do, making sure my pace is calm but purposeful—like I have somewhere to be, but not in a hurry. Like I belong here.

With one final glance over my shoulder, I step away from the tower.

Alright, I think to myself, now I just have to keep this up without getting found out.

Easy, right?

I make my way back to the castle, keeping my movements calculated, careful. I’m not exactly bad at blending in, but this is a whole new level of deception. I can’t act normal. I have to act like a changeling thinks normal looks like.

I step into the kitchen, where Applejack is setting out trays of food. The warm scent of cinnamon and fried dough fills the air. Twilight is there too, already in deep thought, eyes narrowed. She’s onto something—or at least, she thinks she is.

Spike, meanwhile, is playing with tiny figurines of the bride and groom that go on top of the wedding cake.

“I do. Do you?” he mimics in high-pitched voices, making the toys ‘kiss’ before nervously chuckling at himself.

I take my place in the corner of the room, my face carefully neutral.

Applejack beams, wiping flour off her hooves. “Cake, check. Ice sculpture, check. Best darn bite-size apple fritter you ever tasted—”

Twilight takes a slow bite, chewing with precision, like she’s cataloging each individual flavor. She swallows, then nods. “Mmm. Check.”

Spike, ever the little dork, continues his impromptu ceremony. His toy ponies press together, complete with exaggerated kissing noises. He laughs nervously, glancing up for approval.

Applejack just grins, setting another tray down with a satisfying clunk. "Hiya, Princess!"

Princess Cadance—or rather, the thing masquerading as her—steps into the kitchen with that eerily perfect smile. "Please, call me Princess Mi Amore Cadenza."

Applejack, bless her heart, doesn’t even hesitate. "Hiya, Princess Mi Amore Cadenza! You come to check out what’s on the menu for your big day?"

"I have!" She picks up a fritter, takes a bite, and for the briefest moment, her nose scrunches with distaste. Then she smiles again, almost too wide. "Delicious! I love-love-love them." Her laugh is high-pitched, forced.

I watch her carefully, keeping my expression neutral, my posture just slightly off—like I’m thinking about how I should stand, how I should act. I keep my movements slow, deliberate, mimicking the way the other ponies move but with just a hint of something... not quite right.

Applejack doesn’t notice. "Aw, shucks. Why don’t you take a few to go? I know how you brides can be. So busy, you forget to get a little somethin’ in your belly."

Cadance hesitates for half a second too long before smiling. "That’s... thoughtful of you." She levitates the bag and then, just as quickly, tosses it in the trash on her way out.

That is the exact moment Twilight locks up.

She stares, eyes wide, pupils shrinking, like she just witnessed a war crime.

I stay silent.

Applejack doesn’t even blink. "Did... you see what she—" Twilight begins, voice pitched with alarm.

Applejack shrugs. "What? She’s just watchin’ her figure, that’s all."

Twilight turns to me, eyes pleading, looking for confirmation, for support, for any sign that she’s not alone in this.

I tilt my head, just slightly, like I’m considering. Then I shake it, just once. "Seems normal to me."

Twilight’s jaw drops, just a little.

Because that’s the thing. I’m not agreeing with Applejack. I’m not dismissing Twilight’s suspicions. I’m just... not engaging.

A changeling trying to blend in wouldn’t question their queen. A changeling wouldn’t see anything wrong.

I let the silence linger just long enough to feel unnatural.

Twilight’s expression twitches, but she swallows whatever she was about to say.

Applejack, oblivious, carries on with her work.

Spike, still playing with his toys, makes another set of obnoxious kissing noises.

And me?

I keep my face blank, my stance too measured, my words just a fraction too careful.

Like a stranger, mimicking familiarity.

The castle halls feel a little too grand, a little too empty. Maybe it’s just my nerves, the constant awareness that I’m playing a part in a game I barely know the rules to. I keep my movements smooth, calculated, just a fraction too careful. Every step, every glance—just enough to not raise suspicion, but not enough to feel natural.

I follow Twilight as she storms into the dressing room where Rarity is putting the finishing touches on Cadance’s wedding gown. Twilight is practically vibrating with frustration, her hooves clacking hard against the floor.

"Oh, you should have seen how she acted back there," she huffs, pacing near Rarity’s workstation. "I don’t know when she changed, but she changed!" She deepens her voice, mockingly mimicking, "Please, call me Princess Mi Amore Cadenza."

I stay by the door, neutral. Watching. Calculating.

"Did I hear someone say my name?"

Twilight freezes mid-step.

Princess Cadance strides into the room, the very picture of poise. She smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. The air shifts.

Rarity, ever the professional (and social climber), is already mid-bow. "Your Highness! Let me just start by saying what an honor it is to play a role in such a momentous occasion." She lets out a nervous little laugh, tail flicking in barely concealed excitement.

Cadance doesn’t react much. Her expression remains cool, detached. "Uh-huh. Is my dress ready?"

Rarity stammers, straightening up. "Yes, of course! Um, I’ve been working on it ever since I was given the assignment, and I think you’ll be pleased with the results!" She gives a nervous little giggle and pulls back the curtain, revealing the dress she’s poured her heart into.

Cadance steps forward, eyes scanning over the fabric, the shimmer of the material, the lacework.

Her nose wrinkles.

"I was hoping for something with more beading," she says, voice perfectly level. "And a longer train."

Rarity barely blinks before snapping into action. "Oh, yes, of course."

Cadance’s eyes flick to the bridesmaid's dresses again. "And those should be a different color."

From the side, Twinkleshine pipes up, "I think they’re lovely!"

Minuette nods enthusiastically. "Me too!"

Lyra Heartstrings beams. "I love them."

Cadance doesn’t even acknowledge them, narrowing her eyes. "Make them a different color."

She walks out without waiting for a reply.

Twilight sucks in a sharp breath, her face twisting with barely restrained irritation. "Gee, maybe her name should be ‘Princess Demandy-Pants’."

I school my expression into something neutral, noncommittal. Twilight is looking for someone to validate her anger, to stand by her, to confirm that something isn’t right.

I offer her nothing.

I let my silence stretch long enough for her to notice.

Her jaw tightens, but she doesn’t say anything.

I glance at Rarity, who looks torn between placating Twilight and not wanting to criticize literal royalty.

Twilight exhales sharply, her ears twitching in agitation. I know she’s fighting the urge to rant at me, to demand I say something.

Instead, I just give the smallest of shrugs.

Like a drone trying to mimic natural behavior.

Like I don’t really care.

Twilight bristles, her tail flicking in agitation, but she doesn’t push me on it.

Instead, she storms out, leaving Rarity sighing over the dress adjustments.

The moment Twilight stomps off, steam practically shooting from her ears, I exhale through my nose and pivot on my hooves. I don’t follow her. I don’t want to be in the splash zone when she inevitably explodes at someone. Instead, I take the nearest hallway out of the dressing room, eager for a moment of solitude.

I don’t get one.

A presence steps from the shadows, and I barely suppress the instinct to flinch. Midnight blue, sharp eyes, and a knowing smirk—Princess Luna.

"Kinetic Flux," she drawls, head tilting ever so slightly, like she’s enjoying herself already. "I see thou art up to thine usual charlatan ways."

I blink. "Charlatan?" My voice is neutral, unimpressed. "I have never charlataned once in my life. I am a professional magic user with highly sophisticated methods—"

"Thou art a liar and a fraud and I adore it," Luna interrupts, grin widening. "Thine deception is masterful. We should all aspire to such lengths."

I pause. Process. "…Are you complimenting me or insulting me? I genuinely can't tell."

She laughs, eyes glittering. "Both."

I sigh. "Great."

Before I can sidestep her and continue pretending to be a normal, totally-not-a-changeling drone, she shifts forward, dropping her voice just slightly.

"Walk with me."

That tone. The weight in those words. It’s not a request.

I fall in beside her.

Luna leads me through the winding halls of the castle, deeper into the structure where the marble walls start feeling heavier, the air cooler. Servants thin out. Guards appear at odd intervals, standing stiff and silent.

She doesn’t speak until we’re in a private alcove, away from prying ears.

Then, she turns to me, her expression losing its playfulness. "There is an unknown threat to Canterlot."

I blink. Keep my expression blank. "You don’t say."

Luna’s eyes narrow, amused but still sharp. "Do not play coy with us. We know thou art perceptive beyond measure."

I hum thoughtfully. "Flattery will get you everywhere."

She gives me a look.

I sigh. "Alright, fine. What kind of unknown threat are we talking about? The fun kind? The terrifying kind? Or the ‘why am I awake for this’ kind?"

Luna’s jaw tightens slightly. "We are uncertain. There is an unease in the air. We sense something... invasive. Foul. It is concealed well, but it is here."

I glance around the alcove, noting the high, sloping ceilings and the way the shadows pool in the corners. A good place for a private conversation—but I don’t take security for granted.

I raise an eyebrow. "Is this room secure?"

Luna's horn flares, casting a silent wave of dark blue magic over the walls, the floor, the very air itself. The spell settles like a curtain, dampening all outside sound, distorting the edges of the room ever so slightly.

"It is now," she declares confidently.

I don't react immediately. Instead, I watch her, expression unreadable. Then, I let out a slow breath through my nose.

"Yeah, it’s changelings."

For the first time, Luna hesitates. "Thou speakest as if with certainty."

"Because I am," I say flatly.

The moment the words leave my mouth, Luna’s entire expression changes.

It's subtle. One second, she's standing there, the Moon Princess in all her sharp regality—and the next, there’s something wrong about her. The way she holds herself is suddenly too perfect. Too deliberate.

Too still.

A fraction of a second later, her horn ignites in a sickly green blaze.

I don’t wait for the attack.

I can’t afford to.

Because a laser, a real beam of directed energy, moves at the speed of light. Even if I saw it fire, there wouldn’t be enough time to react before I was fried. The only way to defend against it is to act before the attack is fully formed, even If I'm not positive that a laser is what's being cast.

So I do.

I vibrate the air molecules in an instant, forcing them into a chaotic frenzy. Gas particles slam together, electrons ripped from their atoms by sheer kinetic energy, ionizing the air between us. In less than a millisecond, a thin sheet of plasma forms—superheated, charged, and hungry. A shockwave erupts as the rapid heating forces the air to expand at supersonic speeds, creating a deafening CRACK—a miniature thunderclap right in the enclosed space.

The moment her spell fires, the beam strikes the plasma barrier.

The green magic disperses, absorbed and scattered across the energized plasma field. Not a single spark reaches me.

The changeling disguised as Luna barely has time to react.

Because I already have my counterattack prepped.

A condensed chalk powder projectile, packed so densely it might as well be a bullet, is launched at extreme velocity—courtesy of my telekinesis.

It tears through the changeling’s skull before it even registers that it’s lost.

The impact is decisive, clean. The thing drops like a puppet with its strings cut, its disguise unraveling in sickly green fire as its twisted form crumples to the cold stone floor.

I exhale sharply, dragging a hoof down my face.

"Jesus Christ."

That was too convincing. It had the speech patterns, the mannerisms, even the smug little smirk down to an art form. I genuinely thought I was talking to Luna. The real Luna.

I didn't know they could change the color of their magic.

I glance down at the rapidly cooling corpse, my ears still ringing slightly from the aftershock of my plasma barrier. "Yeah. Nope. Not doing that again."

Because clearly, I can’t trust myself to tell the difference. And I do not like that.

From now on? I’ll just wait until the wedding—where I know Luna and Celestia have to be real. Probably.

With a sigh, I turn my attention back to the body. Can’t just leave it here. Can’t afford to have someone find it and ask questions.

So I do what I did before.

With a focused burst of telekinesis, I extract every last molecule of moisture from the changeling's body. I grip the bonds of the dried remains and begin unraveling them—atom by atom, separating the composite materials until nothing but a fine, inert dust remains.

It’s eerily quiet work.

With a final sweep of magic, I scatter the dust, dispersing it through the room and the cracks in the stone. By the time I step back, there's nothing left.

Just me, standing in a dimly lit alcove with the ghost of a headache pressing against my skull.

I take another breath. Roll my shoulders. Collect myself.

Alright. Back to the plan.

I pull my posture back into its neutral, slightly-off balance, the same way a changeling mimicking normal would. And with one last glance at the empty space where Luna had stood, I step back into the halls of Canterlot, slipping back into my role.

The halls of Canterlot Castle are quiet, bathed in the dim glow of moonlight filtering through the grand stained-glass windows. I move at a steady, measured pace, slipping seamlessly back into my role—just another face, just another pony passing through. The events of the last ten minutes are locked behind my eyes, tucked neatly into the back of my mind where no one can see them.

When I reach the main hall, a guard in golden armor steps forward, stopping me with a polite but firm nod.

“The princesses have retired for the evening,” he informs me. “Your companions as well. You should get some rest, sir.”

I don’t recognize this one.

Then again, I don’t recognize most of them.

I flick my ears, tilting my head just slightly, as if considering. "Right. Wouldn’t want to be sleep-deprived for the big day."

The guard nods once, professional and impassive. “Allow me to escort you to your chambers.”

I keep my expression neutral. Not suspicious, not wary—just tired enough that it makes sense I wouldn’t argue. "Lead the way."

He turns, and I follow.

I watch him carefully as we walk.

Not obviously. Not in a way that would tip him off. But I take note of every little thing—the way he carries himself, the cadence of his steps, the stiffness of his posture.

Doesn’t slouch. Doesn’t fidget. Doesn't even breathe wrong.

But neither did the Luna from earlier.

The trek through the castle is uneventful, but I don’t let my guard down. If he’s a changeling, he won’t make a move now. If they suspect I know, they wouldn’t be stupid enough to try something this soon.

Or maybe they would.

Because the only changelings who do know are dead.

And that means I don’t know if they know I know.

The door to my guest chamber looms ahead, carved with swirling gold patterns, absurdly ornate. The guard stops just short of it, giving me a crisp nod.

"Your room, sir."

"Appreciated," I say mildly, stepping forward. I push the door open with my magic, letting it swing inward.

Nothing jumps out at me. No sudden movement. No shadowy figure waiting just inside.

I turn back to the guard, offering him an easy nod. “Have a good night.”

He returns the gesture without hesitation. “You as well.”

And then he walks away.

I step inside, but I don’t close the door. Not yet.

Instead, I wait.

Five seconds.

Ten.

The guard doesn’t turn back. Doesn’t hesitate. Doesn’t do anything other than disappear around the next hallway.

I scan the room quickly. Large, elegant, high ceilings, far too much decoration for my taste. A massive window opens to a view of Canterlot’s skyline, the night stretching out beyond the glass. Heavy curtains frame it, drawn halfway closed.

I step deeper inside. The door clicks shut behind me.

And I do not sleep.

I cannot sleep.

Because no matter how many plans I make, no matter how many countermeasures I prepare, the second I close my eyes, I lose control. The second I let go, I leave myself vulnerable.

The changelings are patient. They are smart. They won’t try something when I’m aware.

But the moment I’m unconscious?

They could come for me.

And I wouldn’t even know.

So I don’t sleep.

Instead, I pull a chair into the corner of the room, facing both the door and the window. I settle into it, still as stone, ears attuned to every creak in the walls, every whisper of wind beyond the glass.

The night is long.

But I will be awake to see the dawn.

The night drags on, stretching into the kind of quiet that feels wrong. Not peaceful—never peaceful. Just still. A silence that presses against the walls, pressing against me.

I don’t move. I barely blink.

Eventually, the darkness softens, giving way to the dull, gray light of pre-dawn. The city outside stirs slowly, the castle coming to life with the shifting of guards, the distant murmur of servants preparing for the day.

I let out a slow breath.

Morning.

A knock at the door shatters the silence.

My ears twitch, and I take just a second before responding, making sure my voice is steady. Neutral. Normal.

“Yeah?”

The door creaks open, and a castle servant—a unicorn mare in crisp attire—steps in, levitating a tray in front of her. Steam drifts from the covered dishes, the scent of fresh-baked bread and something spiced trailing after her.

“Breakfast has been prepared for you, sir,” she says with a practiced tone, setting the tray down on a table near the window.

I give her a slow nod. “Appreciate it.”

She inclines her head slightly before turning and walking out, the door clicking shut behind her.

I don’t touch the food.

Even if it wasn’t lethally poisoned—and I do not trust that it isn’t—it’s not worth the risk. I’d rather deal with hunger than play a game of ‘guess if the eggs are laced with mind-control magic.’

I let the meal sit untouched.

Instead, I push myself up from the chair, rolling my shoulders as I adjust my stance. No real rest, but I’ve gone on worse. The dull ache behind my eyes is manageable.

The rehearsal is soon.

Time to blend in.

The castle is alive with movement as I step into the main hall. Servants move with practiced efficiency, guards remain stationed at key points, and everypony seems too preoccupied with their own duties to pay me much mind.

Good.

I make my way to the rehearsal chamber—a grand, open hall near the main throne room, lined with tall windows and polished marble floors. The air hums with the murmurs of conversation, the occasional sharp instruction, and the rustle of fabric as Rarity makes last-minute adjustments to some of the decor.

The wedding party is already gathering.

The others are scattered, chatting idly. Apparently they've become bridesmaids somehow. Applejack is inspecting the food setup, Pinkie Pie is eyeing the decorations, Rarity is fretting over the dresses.

And her.

Princess Mi Amore Cadenza.

She stands near Shining Armor, the picture of a perfect bride. Smiling. Poised.

I move to my spot near the back. Just another guest. Just another pony in the background.

Blending in.

Waiting.

Watching.

Celestia guides them through the motions. “Perfect, girls. No need to rush. Then, of course, Cadance will enter.” The Bridal Chorus hums softly through the hall.

I keep my face neutral, watching but not really present.

Shining Armor stands tall at the altar, his expression a little dazed, but functional. “I’ll say a few words, and then we’ll begin with the vows. Shining Armor, you’ll get the ring from your best mare.”

Spike, the ever-dramatic little gremlin, lifts the mini shining armor and cadence he's stolen from the cake and mimics in a high-pitched voice, “Do you? I do!” again forcing them to kiss.

My gaze stays fixed ahead, but my mind is far, far away.

I could kill Chrysalis.

Right here. Right now.

Not even a challenge, honestly. She doesn’t know what I can do. She’d never see it coming.

It would be as simple as launching a projectile before she even realized I had one. Instantaneous. Decisive.

And yet, I don't.

I don’t, because… well.

I like shapeshifters.

In every possible way.

A whole race of creatures capable of taking whatever form they desire? That’s just fascinating. It’d be a shame to wipe them out before I had a chance to really study what they’re capable of. And sure, I could justify it with things like not wanting to shatter the timeline or making sure Shining and Cadance have their grand emotional moment, but at the core of it?

I just think they’re neat.

I keep my expression unreadable as the rehearsal moves forward.

Shining shifts slightly. “Hey… has anypony seen Twilight?”

Right on cue.

The doors slam open.

“I’m here!” Twilight’s voice is sharp, breathless, heavy with conviction. “I’m not gonna stand next to her! And neither should you!”

I watch, silent, as she storms forward, her frustration radiating off her in waves. There’s a distinct, painful kind of helplessness in her posture—like she already knows they won’t believe her, but she has to try anyway.

Shining frowns, confused. “I’m sorry, I… I don’t know why she’s acting like this.”

Cadance—the thing wearing Cadance’s face—keeps her expression smooth. Her voice is light, concerned, dripping with insincerity. “Maybe we should just ignore her.”

I don’t react.

Twilight does.

“You have to listen to me!”

Fluttershy, bless her heart, takes a cautious step forward. “Oh, goodness! Are you okay?”

Twilight waves her off. “I’m fine.”

Applejack, ever the skeptic, squints. “Ya sure about that?”

Twilight takes a steadying breath, and I can see the moment she doubles down. “I’ve got something to say! She’s evil!”

The tension in the room spikes instantly.

The others murmur, concerned. The royal guards glance between themselves.

I keep my face passive, neither confirming nor denying anything.

Twilight’s voice rises in urgency. “She’s been horrible to my friends, she’s obviously done something to her bridesmaids, and if that wasn’t enough, I saw her put a spell on my brother that made his eyes go all—” She waves her hooves around her head, her eyes bouncing around in her head. "🎵bells jangling🎵!"

Cadance gasps, eyes welling up immediately. “Why are you doing this to me?!” Her voice trembles, a masterclass in deception. She runs out of the room, twilight teleporting every now and then to catch up.

Twilight presses forward. “Because you’re evil! Evil! And if I don’t stop you, you’re gonna ruin my brother’s life!”

There it is.

The breaking point.

Shining stiffens, his jaw tightening. “You want to know why my eyes went all 🎵bells jangling🎵?” His voice is hard, defensive, like he’s been pushed just a little too far. “Because ever since I started having to perform my protection spell, I’ve been getting terrible migraines. Cadance hasn’t been casting spells on me. She’s been using her magic to heal me!”

Twilight flinches, her bravado cracking.

Shining’s words come faster now, like he’s desperate to justify, to fix things. “And she decided to replace her bridesmaids because she found out the only reason they wanted to be in the wedding was so that they could meet Canterlot royalty! And if she hasn’t been on her best behavior with your friends, it’s because with me being so busy, she’s had to make all the decisions about the wedding!”

Twilight’s voice is small now. “I was just trying to—”

Shining doesn’t let her finish.

“She’s been completely stressed out because it’s really important to her that our big day be perfect, something that obviously wasn’t important to you!” He takes a sharp breath, as if realizing the words as they leave him. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go and comfort my bride. And you can forget about being my best mare.” He hesitates, his anger settling into something colder. “In fact, if I were you, I wouldn’t show up to the wedding at all.”

The silence that follows is suffocating.

Applejack clears her throat. “C’mon, y’all. Let’s go check on the princess.”

Twilight stares after them, her expression crumbling. “I was—”

Celestia’s voice cuts through the air, calm and final. “You have a lot to think about.”

The doors slam shut.

I glance at Twilight.

She stands there, shaking slightly, staring at the place where they all just left her. The weight of it all presses down on her at once. The sting of rejection. The suffocating loneliness of being right but having no one believe you.

I could step forward.

I could say something.

I could tell her that she was right. That she wasn’t alone. That I know exactly what’s going on and that I’m going to fix it.

But I don’t.

Because I need her to get captured.

Because I need her to find the real Cadance.

Because if I go down there first, then Chrysalis loses immediately—and that means Shining Armor and Cadance don’t get their moment. They don’t have their grand reunion. And without that, without them, there’s no emotional surge to blast all the changelings to the Badlands, weeding them all out of Canterlot.

No guaranteed victory.

And the best outcome—the one where all the changelings get launched out of Canterlot in one fell swoop—only happens if I do nothing.

So I leave.

I wait in my room.

A few hours pass. Canterlot carries on as if nothing is wrong.

Because, for now, nothing is.

Twilight’s in the caverns. She’s where she needs to be. The real Cadance will be freed soon. And the grand spectacle of the wedding—the real wedding—has to happen exactly as I remember it.

Worst-case scenario? I start killing changelings one by one, culling them with precise, quiet efficiency until there's none left. It's doable. Messy, but doable.

But the best outcome?

I let things play out.

So when the time finally comes, I head toward the ceremony.

Before leaving, I give a quiet command. “Rachel. Follow.”

The construct obeys instantly, falling into step behind me. The heavy stone of her body makes a dull thud with each step, her joints moving fluidly despite their rigid structure. She turns heads as we walk, but at this point, I don’t care. Let them gawk. Rachel is the only thing here I can trust completely.

The ceremony is set up exactly as expected—extravagant, bright, a picture-perfect royal wedding.

Celestia stands at the front, poised and regal as ever. "Mares and gentlecolts, we are gathered here today to witness the union of—"

She doesn’t get to finish.

Twilight’s voice cuts through the air like a blade. “Stop!”

Gasps ripple through the hall. Murmurs, nervous shifting.

I don’t react.

I keep my face neutral, even as Chrysalis puts on the performance of a lifetime, faux-sobbing into her hooves. “Why does she have to be so possessive of her brother? Why does she have to ruin my special day?”

I already know what happens next.

The real Cadance steps forward, fierce and unbroken. “Because it’s not your special day! It’s mine!”

Gasps.

The fake Cadance—no, Chrysalis—turns sharply, her voice twisting with irritation. “What? But how did you escape my bridesmaids?”

From somewhere behind them, voices can be heard gushing. “I want it!”

Chrysalis huffs. “Hmph. Clever. But you’re still too late.”

I keep still, standing at the back as the scene unfolds.

I could end this.

Right now.

I could remove the problem, take Chrysalis out before things escalate. Celestia wouldn't even have to fight. There’d be no battle, no laser clash, no risk of collateral damage.

But that’s not the best outcome.

Because if Cadance and Shining don’t have their moment—if they don’t win—then the changelings stay. They remain, scattered, hidden, embedded within Canterlot. The city will never be truly purged.

I shift slightly, watching as Chrysalis monologues, weaving the grand picture of her conquest. “My fellow changelings will be able to devour so much love, we will gain more power than we have ever dreamed of!”

Cadance stands her ground. “They’ll never get the chance! Shining Armor’s protection spell will keep them from ever even reaching us!”

Chrysalis smirks. “Oh, I doubt that. Isn’t that right, dear?”

Shining Armor, still caught in her spell, barely manages a weak “Mm-hmm.”

Twilight and Cadance both gasp.

Chrysalis gives a mock-pitying look. “He may not be my husband, but he is under my total control now. And I’m sorry to say, unable to perform his duties as Captain of the Royal Guard.”

Cadance’s breath hitches. “Not my Shining Armor!”

Chrysalis lets the moment hang before leaning forward, voice rich with victory. “Soon, my changeling army will break through. First, we take Canterlot. And then, all of Equestria!”

Celestia finally steps forward, her voice cutting through the tension. “No. You won’t.”

And here it is.

The moment.

Celestia’s horn ignites, golden and radiant. Chrysalis meets her with a beam of her own, twisting, writhing green magic clashing violently against divine sunlight.

The force shakes the walls.

And I almost move.

I could intervene.

I could end this before Celestia loses.

But if I do, then what happens next? The changelings would still be here. They’d retreat, regroup, scatter like insects into the cracks of Canterlot’s foundation.

No.

This has to happen.

Celestia has to lose.

Cadance and Shining have to win.

The world needs to see them rise.

So I watch, still as stone, as the battle unfolds.

Celestia falls.

The golden blast of her magic shatters like glass against Chrysalis' sickly green beam, and the room trembles with the force of her defeat. The impact sends her crown clattering across the floor, the weight of it meaningless without the power to back it.

"Princess Celestia!" Twilight's cry is raw with panic, the tremor of disbelief thick in her voice.

Chrysalis straightens, head held high, smug, victorious. "Ah! Shining Armor's love for you is even stronger than I thought! Consuming it has made me even more powerful than Celestia!"

I exhale quietly through my nose.

Celestia shifts, trying to rise, but she’s already struggling, her breath ragged. "The Elements of Harmony. You must get to them and use their power to defeat the queen."

Twilight nods, determination overtaking her panic. "Come on, girls!"

And just like that, the Mane Six rush off, their hooves clattering against the marble floor.

Chrysalis doesn’t even try to stop them.

Because she knows.

She knows they won’t make it.

And now, the only ponies left in the grand hall are those who cannot fight back.

Celestia. Cadance. Shining Armor, still under her spell. The nobles, Rachel, the guests—all wrapped in thick, pulsating layers of changeling goo, struggling against bonds that won't break.

And me.

I haven't moved.

I haven't spoken.

And that’s about to become a problem.

The changelings, dozens of them, begin encasing the remaining captives in their resinous slime. It comes quickly, their horns flashing with eerie green light as the viscous material slathers itself over struggling ponies.

I realize, in this moment, that I made a mistake.

I was fine with this until it involved me.

As one of the drones turns toward me, its horn igniting, I fire off the illusion— quickly pulling out the chalk dust, condensing the near-invisible fog just around my irises. Shifting just enough to flash my eyes green. A changeling signal.

I am one of you.

The drone hesitates for half a second.

And then its magic charges up again.

It sees through it.

Damn.

I don't let it attack.

Before its spell can fully form, I grip the particles of chalk dust in the air from the illusion and condense it into a projectile.

Then I fire.

It pierces straight through the changeling’s skull, the impact almost too clean, leaving a perfectly round hole before the creature collapses in a limp heap.

Silence.

The other drones do not move.

Chrysalis lifts her chin slightly, watching me now with something new in her eyes.

Interest.

Curiosity.

Suspicion.

The grand hall is deathly silent.

The only sound is the soft, echoing thud of the changeling drone hitting the marble floor. The green glow fades from its lifeless horn, and the air grows heavier.

I haven't moved.

I don't move.

Chrysalis stares at me now, calculating. She doesn’t order the others to attack. She doesn’t react with anger or fear. She studies me, eyes sharp, lips curling ever so slightly.

Amused.

Interested.

I exhale through my nose, slow and measured. My voice is quiet, deliberate, yet it carries through the chamber.

"You don’t want to fight me, Chrysalis."

The queen hums, tapping a hole-ridden hoof against her chin. “Oh? And why is that, little pony?” She spits the word out like venom.

I smirk, tilting my head just slightly. "You and I… we’re not so different, are we?"

Celestia, still pinned against the floor, breathes sharply. Cadance flinches, her wide, desperate eyes flicking between me and Chrysalis.

The queen lets out a low chuckle, circling me like a predator appraising prey. “Please. Enlighten me.”

I don’t take my eyes off her. "You’re a parasite, Chrysalis. You live because others suffer. You take what you need, whether they like it or not. That’s just how it is." I pause, letting the weight of my words settle. "And yet, is that so different from any other creature?"

I glance at Celestia, watching her reaction. Her jaw tightens, but she doesn’t speak.

Cadance looks horrified.

I continue. "Ponies like to think they’re different. That they only take what’s freely given. That they consume without cost." I shake my head. "But at the end of the day, they eat. They burn. They cut down forests and carve mountains, all to sustain themselves."

I take a step forward—just one, controlled. The changelings stiffen slightly, but none of them move to stop me.

"Tell me, Queen of the Changelings… does the wolf ask permission before it tears into the rabbit? Does the lion feel remorse for the antelope?" I tilt my head. "Do you expect me to?"

Chrysalis’s smirk deepens. She licks her fangs, savoring the words. “And yet, unlike me, you still wear the skin of prey.”

"I wasn’t always a pony." My voice is steady, calm.

That gives her pause.

Celestia’s head snaps toward me. Cadance blinks, stunned.

Chrysalis studies me more intently now, intrigued. “Lies,” she scoffs, but there’s hesitation in her tone.

I shake my head slowly. "You can sense love, can’t you? You taste it in the air. The emotions of every being in this room." I spread my hooves slightly, grounding myself. "So tell me, Chrysalis—what do I taste like?"

The air shifts. The tension coils tighter.

For the first time, Chrysalis isn’t amused.

She isn’t smug.

She stares at me, her slitted pupils dilating ever so slightly. Her nostrils flare as she breathes in, as she tastes me.

And something in her expression changes.

The amusement vanishes. The arrogance drains away.

For a fraction of a second, I see it.

A flicker of something raw, something primal.

Revulsion.

Doubt.

Fear.

“You…” She swallows, her throat bobbing slightly. Her voice drops, quiet and unsteady. “…You’re wrong.”

Not incorrect.

Not mistaken.

Wrong.

An anomaly. A distortion. A thing that should not be.

Her horn ignites in a violent, crackling burst, and before another word can be spoken, she fires.

A beam of pure, sickly green death lances toward me, faster than a thought.

But I don’t move.

Because I don’t need to.

The air is already ionized with another concussive boom. The plasma field is already formed. The moment her attack collides with the barrier, it stops. The raw energy is consumed, diffused into the charged particles, scattering harmlessly into the atmosphere.

Chrysalis flinches back.

She is staring at me now—not with confidence, not with contempt, but with something far more satisfying.

Doubt.

I exhale slowly, letting the moment stretch, letting her feel the weight of her mistake. My voice is quieter now, but it cuts through the silence like a razor.

“That was unwise.”

Celestia stares, her expression unreadable, golden regality masking whatever thoughts race behind her violet eyes.

Cadance?

Her breathing is shallow, her pupils shrunk to tiny pinpricks. She looks at me like she’s seeing me for the first time—like I’m something she doesn’t understand.

Something she doesn’t want to understand.

I roll my shoulders slightly, my stance loose, casual. Unbothered.

I never break eye contact with Chrysalis.

“I wonder…” I tilt my head. “Have you ever truly known fear, Chrysalis?”

Her lips twitch. “Do not—”

I step forward.

The drones surrounding me shift, reacting instinctively, but she doesn’t give the order to attack.

She won’t.

Not yet.

I let my voice drop lower, almost thoughtful. “You’re used to being the predator, aren’t you? The wolf among sheep. The one with all the power.”

A pause.

Then I smile—just enough to be unsettling.

“You don’t feel like the wolf right now, do you?”

Her jaw tightens.

I let my gaze flicker to the drones at her sides, their wings twitching, their posture uncertain. They don’t understand why she hesitates.

Why she hasn’t ordered them to kill me already.

So I tell them.

“You’re afraid.”

I let the words sink in. Let them fester.

Let her feel it.

I breathe in, slow and deep, my eyes never leaving hers.

"I can taste it."

Chrysalis stiffens.

The words ripple through the hall, slithering into the silence, twisting around the fear that is thick in the air.

She doesn’t like that.

Her wings twitch. Her hooves shift slightly, weight redistributing like a cornered animal deciding whether to fight or flee.

Her voice wavers, just barely. “W-We have you surrounded.”

I let the moment stretch. Let the tension coil tighter.

Then, I exhale softly and shake my head.

"No."

A beat.

Then my voice drops, quiet and absolute.

"All I am surrounded by… is fear."

I lift my eyes to hers. Lock my gaze. Let the words settle.

"And dead changelings."

The drones shudder. They don’t move. They don’t speak.

They don’t know if I’m bluffing.

Neither does she.

Because even I don’t know what I’m doing anymore.

I have no moves.

No real options.

I can end her. Easily.

But barring that?

I’ve got nothing.

I just have to keep talking.

Keep stalling.

She’s watching me too closely to notice Cadance’s bonds loosening.

She doesn’t see the silent pull of my telekinesis, unraveling the changeling resin layer by layer, so subtly that even Cadance herself doesn’t know it’s happening.

I don’t look at her.

I don’t acknowledge her.

I just keep talking.

"I could take this city, you know."

Chrysalis blinks. “What?”

I let my smirk widen.

"I will take this city."

She recoils slightly, her fangs parting, confused.

I shrug, casual. "You’ve already done all the work for me. You’ve cut off the city’s defenses, weakened its strongest fighters, eliminated resistance before it could even begin. You’ve made it so easy."

I let my voice drop, let my words weave into her mind. "And all that’s left now… is for someone stronger to take it from you."

Her wings flare, panic creeping into her expression. “Lies.”

I take another step forward, slow and controlled.

"Why not?" My voice is light, almost teasing. "Wouldn’t it be poetic? That after all your planning, all your scheming, you didn’t conquer Canterlot… you delivered it?"

Her breath quickens. I can hear it now. I can see it.

She’s unraveling.

I can feel Celestia’s gaze boring into me. Feel Cadance inching away, freed and unnoticed, making her way toward Shining Armor in slow, quiet movements.

Everything is working.

I have her.

I just need to keep going.

I let my smile sharpen.

"And you, Chrysalis… you will be my queen."

A sharp inhale.

Celestia’s eyes narrow.

Cadance stops moving.

Chrysalis’ breath hitches, her wings flicking with uncertainty.

I tilt my head slightly, eyes glinting. "Not as a partner. Not as an ally. As a prize."

Chrysalis’ horn sparks. “You’re mad.”

"Am I?"

I chuckle softly. Let the sound echo.

"Everything is already in place. You just don’t realize it yet."

And for a moment—just one, beautiful moment—Chrysalis believes me.

I can see it in her eyes.

She doesn’t know what I am.

She doesn’t know what I’m capable of.

She thinks I’m a monster. A rival. A threat.

And she doesn’t know what move to make.

Which means I’ve won.

I don’t move.

I don’t blink.

And then—

"Enough!"

The word shatters the silence.

But it isn’t Chrysalis who speaks.

It’s Cadance.

And for the first time, I relax.

I don’t react immediately. I don’t even process it at first. Because in my mind, she’s talking to Chrysalis, telling her to stop, telling her that it’s over.

But when I glance over, she isn’t looking at Chrysalis.

She’s looking at me.

Clinging to Shining Armor, her wings trembling, her eyes wide with something raw and unfiltered.

Fear.

Not of her.

Of me.

"You’re a monster."

The words hit harder than any spell.

I don’t understand.

My thoughts grind to a halt, stuck in place, my mind rejecting the implication.

She doesn’t mean that. She can’t mean that.

I was helping. I was stalling. I was keeping Chrysalis off balance, making sure Cadance could free Shining, ensuring the best outcome.

And yet—

I realize something I should have thought about earlier.

I’ve never met these ponies.

Not really.

Not outside of this fight.

They don’t know me.

They’ve never seen the way I act around Celestia. They’ve never watched me banter with Luna. They weren’t there when I helped the element bearers, time and time again.

They only saw this.

A cold, calculating force. A creature standing toe-to-toe with a tyrant, speaking in the language of monsters, weaving a battle of dominance with nothing but words.

Cadance doesn’t see an ally.

She sees another threat.

A bigger threat.

I turn to Celestia, some part of me desperate for recognition, for a lifeline, for something.

And for the first time in my life, Celestia looks shocked.

I see her inhale sharply, see the moment the pieces click into place in her mind, see the flash of understanding behind her eyes.

She opens her mouth—

“No, wait—”

But she’s too late.

Shining Armor’s eyes glow with raw magic, his horn sparking as Cadance feeds her power into his.

The force erupts.

A tsunami of pure, blinding energy, crashing outward, unstoppable.

I barely have time to think before it hits me.

The last thing I feel is the force tearing through me, the overwhelming weight of it, the sheer power behind it.

The last thing I hear is my own heartbeat, thundering in my ears.

And the last thing I see—

Is Celestia, reaching out.

A second too late.

And then—

Darkness.