“Siddy, I guarantee you, nothing’s gonna happen if you look like yourself in public, mate,” Shift lectured the blue unicorn in the middle of the group.
“I disagree. I don’t even know why I let you two drag me out with you in the first place.”
“We’re doing you a favour here,” Swift joined in. “You need to loosen up a bit. Get that stick out of your flank and have some fun for once in your life. Besides, it’s not a squad outing without the whole squad. Ooh, this is the club. Hey, they’ve got that cute little DJ here tonight! Looks like she’s on in twenty minutes, too.”
Sighing, Obsidian pulled out a pair of earplugs and pushed them in as far as they would go. Even outside the club, the bass could be felt. After making sure no one was watching, the earplugs disappeared in two tiny puffs of green fire.
Making their way past the bouncer Obsidian could only describe as overgrown, they pushed past crowds that cheered as a song ended. At one end was a small stage, where a dark pegasus with a spiked mane had his hoof raised. “Wooooo! You’ve all been awesome!” he shouted. “But let’s face it. You’re here for the legend herself. Have fun! Bassline out!”
More cheering followed from ponies surrounding the bar opposite to the stage, and the various standing pub tables nearby. Looking up, the group saw more ponies leaning on barriers bordering a second floor ledge that overlooked the lower floor. Heading up a flight of stairs at one corner, Swift and Shift found a small, empty booth, save for a few discarded drinks from the previous occupants. Squeezing in, Shadow and Obsidian went first. Swift and Shift took up the left side, while Glare and Sparky barely managed to fit on the right.
“Oh you’re gonna love her. Swift and I listen to her all the time,” Shift explained, pushing the empty glasses away. He swept his hoof out, gesturing at the stage they had a decent view of. Catching sight of a nearby waitress, he raised his hoof. “’Scuse me! We able to order some drinks?”
“Sure,” the purple earth pony replied, approaching the six. She distributed a pair of drink menus already in her possession. “What can I get for y’all?”
“Uhh, we’ll take whatever beer you got on tap. Yo Sparks! What’re you going for?” he called out to the diamond dog, who had skimmed over the list. As Sparky pointed at the drink on the menu, Swift gave him a look. “Seriously? Alright, one cosmo for the big guy. Shadow?”
“Single malt, please. Neat.”
“Obsidian?”
“I don’t drink. I’ll just take a glass of water.”
“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that correctly. We’ll start you off on one shot of vodka,” Swift continued. Pausing, he whispered for a triple in a glass. “And Glare?”
“Do you have a pear cider? One please.”
Finalising the order, the mare cleared the table and left. Music continued to blare from speakers mounted all over the club. Though the stage had darkened, it was just possible to make out a couple of ponies wheeling various equipment about.
While they waited, Obsidian turned to the pegasus twins. “Right, so given we’ve been working together for a while, I have to ask. What’s your story? I’ve always wondered what made you two special enough to be selected as Infiltrators.”
Swift laughed. “We were just as confused at first. Quasar and Eclipse themselves decided to visit us at our house in Murrumbatemare. Little town, a hundred klicks south-west of Sydneigh. Anyway, we kinda assumed the Navy was just looking to bring us ex-guards back into the action, given the experience, and that we were also some of the first sharpshooters they had. Nope. Apparently we showed up on their sensors after a bit of an incident we had.”
“Yeah, so we like to go camping often,” Shift continued. “Usually we pick new places we’ve never explored before, so we load up some food, bit of the amber fluid, some basic equipment, and fly out. Pretty standard stuff. Problem was, we cheaped out on our map, and got something basic. We were unaware we’d be setting down near a river bank in dropbear territory.”
“Dropbears?” Glare piped up. “What are they?”
“Surprised you’ve never heard of them, given how everypony likes to take the piss from us blokes living out there. They’re basically creatures that fall out of trees and tear you to shreds,” Swift explained, using his hooves to demonstrate. “Lotta fellas think they’re myths because they’re not known for leaving survivors. Some ponies just go out into the woods and never return. Sometimes they’re found. Or at least, parts of them. The Everfree forest’s got nothing on dropbears!”
Obsidian raised an eyebrow. “And you two still go camping, knowing this?”
Swift raised his hooves in defence. “Hey, like Shift said, we weren’t aware this was dropbear territory. So on the second day of our trip, we heard rustling, and we managed to dodge this ball of teeth and claws coming straight down above us. Thing looked at me like a rabid dog, and I knew straight away we had to get out of there. Turns out those nasty buggers can jump in a flash, and I had barely gained altitude before it grabbed my tail and pinned me down. I had no time to register the fact that my wing popped out of place when it took a swipe at my hoof.”
Shift took over narration. “That’s where I came in. I didn’t even think. I flew at that thing head-first and knocked it off Swift. All the while, it was flailing and snarling, managing to pull out a good deal of my feathers before I crushed it against the trunk of a nearby tree. As soon as I jumped away from it, I took a large branch from the ground, and spent the next minute making sure it wouldn’t be getting up again.”
Swift leaned back in his seat, folding his hooves. “In all that commotion though, our tents were knocked into our campfire. It quickly spread to our bags nearby, and we pretty much lost everything we had. I couldn’t fly with a dislocated wing, and Shift couldn't fly with his feathers out, so we were ground bound. At one point, we tried climbing a tree to see if we could catch a low flying cloud. Could have fit us both, so we could use a wing each to propel ourselves back home. Unfortunately, we couldn’t reach it.”
“The rest was pretty much history,” Shift finished. “We got out of dropbear territory pretty quickly, and we just used the sun as an approximate navigation aid until we found familiar natural landmarks. Managed to get in the local papers when we got back to town, which was pretty neat. So I guess the lesson we learned was to make sure you have a reliable map. Don’t grab something just because it’s the cheapest.”
“Funny,” Glare commented. “The lesson I would have learned is to not go camping.”
“Sook. You can’t stop doing what you love, just because you had one bad experience. You drink a cup of concrete, and harden the buck up, that’s what you do!”
The group continued to chat for several minutes, until the waitress returned with their order, placing coasters, and the relevant drinks down for all six. “Anything else I can get for y’all?”
“Nah mate, we’re good for now. Cheers, fellas!” Swift and Shift raised their bottles, and the others all clinked their glasses. The group took sips, except for Obsidian and the twins, with the former setting the glass aside after sniffing the contents, and the latter emptying a third of their bottles in one go. Seeing the untouched glass in front of the changeling, Swift picked it up and held it in front of him. “Come on Obsidian! Down the hatch!”
The changeling refused to take the glass from the pegasus. “I told you, I don’t dri—”
Timing it right, Swift shot the contents of the glass into the changeling’s mouth with impeccable accuracy.
“SKRAWWWWW!”
“Oh Celestia, what the buck was that?” Swift was on the verge of tears, as Obsidian spluttered and made the strangest guttural sound.
“Why”—Obsidian coughed—“do ponies drink this?”
Still cackling, the pegasus put a wing around Obsidian. “Like I said, beetle butt, to loosen up.”
A sudden change in lighting drew everyone’s attention to the stage. Most of the lights had dimmed or turned off, while sets of blue lasers streaked through clouds that spewed from fog machines. Gentle electronic tones played, building up to a climax a minute in. Simultaneously, the bass blasted through the speakers and lights illuminated the DJ and her equipment.
The white unicorn, with her trademark, electric-blue shaggy mane and purple glasses, got her audience roaring with excitement. The pegasus twins were bipedal on their seats, whoops and hollers bellowing from them. Obsidian already felt nauseous. Sparky was drumming his digits against the table in time to the music, while Glare and Shadow merely bobbed their heads lightly to the tempo.
Songs passed. The mare on stage utilised a wide array of hardware at her disposal, from sequencers and turntables, to keytars and laser harps. Several songs in, the twins were already dancing on the floor below, disappearing later with a pair of unicorn mares. Glare was nursing her second cider and Shadow asked for the rest of her whisky's bottle. Sparky held half of a large watermelon in his paw, it’s contents replaced with a strawberry lemonade vodka presented with a straw, sprig of mint, and a skewer of strawberry and lemon.
“She’s quite talented, isn’t she?” Shadow’s voice was barely heard over the tracks. An agreeable grunt came from the diamond dog.
“I’ve only listened to her stuff a few times, but that was a long time ago,” Glare remarked. “She’s branched out with her instruments, but I’d recognise her style, regardless.”
“She—she looks like a ‘chillax’ pony though,” Obsidian slurred, referring to one of his earlier conversations with Glare. “I honestly th—urp”—he brought a hoof to his mouth—“thought DJs simply pressed a play button and everything else was just a show, though.”
Shadow laughed. “You’ve never been to one of these clubs before?”
“I try to avoid loud noises.”
“Bad news for you then. She’s probably only about halfway through her performance.”
“I guess that means I’m probably going to have to cut tonight short,” Glare interjected. “Need to do something early in the morning.”
The zebra looked towards Glare, slightly disappointed. “You need to leave now?”
“I think I might as well. Tomorrow isn’t a day I want to be tired on.”
Shadow nodded. “I understand. Was nice to have at least one night out as a group, even if it was short-lived. I take it you’re going to head off as well, Obsidian? You look like you need any excuse to leave.”
“Probably for the best. I’m swaying like a … thing that sways here.”
Chuckling, Shadow turned to the diamond dog. “What about you Sparky? You’re not planning to leave early as well, are you?”
Looking down at his drink, Sparky replied with his best ‘Are you serious?’ face and shook his head.
“Alright you two. Get home safe. I’ll cover the bill.”
Glare stepped out into the cold night, a notable ringing in her ears that screamed at her, while Obsidian followed, stumbling behind. She looked back at him with concern. “Are you alright to make it back to your hotel from here?”
“Uh huh. I’ll be fine,” the changeling replied, heading down the street. He made it about ten metres before he stopped, looked around, then turned back the way he came. “Wrong way,” he said, passing by Glare as he continued towards the other end of the street. He didn’t seem to notice tripping over his own hooves when he mumbled, “I think I’m lost.”
Moving to Obsidian’s side, Glare lifted the wobbly changeling back up, supporting him with her side. “Come on. My place is not too far from here anyway.”
The half hour journey to Glare’s house was spent in relative silence. Shivering, Glare pressed on, noting empty streets with an occasional pony here or there. She figured it was that time of the night where it was too late to go out, yet too early to go home.
“Tonight could have been worse, but I don’t think I expected it to end like this,” Glare stated.
“Nor I,” Obsidian groaned.
“What do you think happened to Swift and Shift, anyway?”
“Don’t care. Probably hooked up with those floozies. Either way, Swift is a dead pegasus when—when I get my hooves around his neck. Or Shift. Was it Sh—whatever. I’ll strangle them both for good measure.”
The changeling trailed off into incoherent ramblings about the twins until the two approached Glare’s house. The unicorn could see lights on from one of the lower windows as she headed up the small path to the entrance. “Good. Dad’s still up.” Knocking, Glare waited as the blurry figure approached the door. Hearing the sound of locks opening, she stepped back as the door swung open.
“Glare? What are—” Flare stopped upon sighting Obsidian leaning against the wall with his eyes closed and mouth open. “Oh dear. How much did he have to drink?”
“Three.”
“Three? Bottles?”
“Shots.”
“Huh. Didn’t expect military types to be such lightweights.” He paused, as Obsidian’s legs gave out. Eyeing the crumpled heap, he looked back at Glare. “He’s not going to make a mess is he?”
“I … don’t think so.”
“Alright, let’s get him in the spare room.” Grunting, Flare lifted Obsidian up onto his back, while Glare supported him with magic as they ascended the stairs. “So, when did you get back?”
“This afternoon. A few of my uhh, colleagues insisted on having a night out. As you can see, this is the end result.”
“I take it you haven’t had the chance to visit Glint yet?”
“First thing on my list in the morning.”
“Ahh, perfect. You can come with me when I sign the discharge papers, then.”
“WHAT?” Glare shouted, her magic cutting off in the process. She did not even realise Obsidian slid off and rolled down the stairs in his best impression of a ragdoll. “She’s cured? When did this happen?”
“I’ll tell you everything once we get your friend sorted out.”
Gasping, Glare galloped down the stairs. Flare followed, and the pair managed to retrieve Obsidian and carry him to the spare room. Covering him with a blanket, Glare followed her father downstairs to the living room. “So you were saying about Glint?”
“Right. Do you remember the day we found out about Glint’s condition?”
“I’ll never forget. I was crying for days.”
“So was I. Well then, you’d remember me explaining how the Doctors thought it was a certain illness due to specific symptoms, yet were unsure when tests could not produce positive results for it. As a result, treatments were only symptomatic, delaying the onset of additional symptoms. As we saw, those symptoms came about faster than we had expected.”
“So what changed? Did somepony find a cure?”
“Not exactly. About a month ago there were sudden changes in Glint’s symptoms. After the Doctors looked into it, I was told she had been misdiagnosed. Even though it was only a suspected disease, they were completely wrong about it.”
Glare looked towards her father with hope in her eyes. “So they figured out what was actually wrong with her?”
“They did. Motricium Sclerosis Magicis. Rare condition with similar symptoms. I was asked to come in and provide further information about Glint’s history, but found it odd when I was asked if she ever had episodes of magical surges, like every foal does.”
“Come to think of it, I don’t think she ever did. It is odd, but how is it relevant?”
“The way it was explained was that unicorns are unable to regulate the magical energy produced at that age, which is why excess magic results in those surges. That energy needs to be released somehow. In cases like Glint’s, a foal may have an abnormally large capacity for magic—”
“—And the reason she never surged when she was younger,” Glare concluded.
“Precisely. Apparently it’s genetic. Seems to run on your mother’s side of the family.”
“Then why wasn’t I affected? I’m fairly certain you’ve mentioned me having surges before.”
“A third of our greenhouse was knocked down from one of your episodes,” Flare chuckled. “I remember how your mother went into a panicked rush to save her little herb garden. But magically, you were hyperactive, always insisting on picking things up. Or ponies, if you were so inclined.”
“I picked ponies up as a foal?”
“You have no idea how shocked I was when you first twirled me about like a doll! Anyway, back to Glint, it seems there are long-term effects to excess magic buildups, primarily disrupting the regulation of magical energy production. For her, this caused an endless loop that eventually affected other parts of her body as she got older. Magic is drawn to the nervous system, particularly to parts responsible for movement, causing lesions that interrupt or block normal signals if there’s too much stored.”
“Will she recover? Will those lesions heal?”
“I was assured that with a few rounds of medication, and some regular exercises to help with her excess magic, she should make a full recovery. Apart from some minor muscular atrophy from being bed-bound, her motor functions have almost completely returned.”
“Wait, wait. You said this started a month ago? The first time we met since I joined the Navy?” Glare asked, performing some mental maths. She concluded the timing was correct. “Obsidian.”
“Hmm? What about him?”
“What were these changes to Glint’s symptoms?”
“Off the top of my head, there were unusual spikes in magical energy that weren’t present before, as well as significantly different readings on her EEG. It only ever happened once, but whatever the cause was, it pushed the Doctors onto the right path, it seems.”
Tears were welling up in Glare’s eyes. “Excuse me for a moment.” Rushing up the stars, she entered the spare room, finding the disguised changeling right where she left him. Without pause, she hugged Obsidian tightly. “Thank you,” she whispered over and over, tears streaming down her face.
Flare entered shortly after. “Come on,” he said softly, giving Glare a gentle nudge. “Let him rest. Besides, I think this is the part where you explain what that was about, right?”
Sniffing, Glare wiped her eyes as she left the room. “Obsidian is—has a …” she paused, trying to find the right words. “He’s talented with certain types of magic. He can manipulate emotions and transfer them between ponies. The day we first returned to visit Glint, he transferred some of my emotions to her. He said emotions and memories are tied to each other, so he helped me share mine with Glint.”
“And you think that was why Glint had those new symptoms?”
“I’m certain of it. I asked him once to experiment with transferring some of his emotions to me. The results were … well, I’d need a while to explain all the effects, but I had similar symptoms as a result of the transfer.”
“You can”—Flare yawned—“excuse me. You can tell me all about it tomorrow then. You should go get some rest as well. We’ll be waking up early.”
Glare stared at the clock on her night-stand, watching as the seconds ticked by. Two-thirty, yet the unicorn had no desire to sleep. Too many thoughts flowed through her mind. How would she react seeing Glint galloping about once again? What would be the first thing they’d do together? How would she repay Obsidian for what he had done?
Obsidian.
Rising from her bed, Glare crept out of her room, head low. Her Infiltrator senses kicking in, she scanned the corridor, before making her way silently towards the spare room, opening the door and sliding in. Looking towards the bed, she found Obsidian’s head peeking out from the striped covers, devoid of disguise.
Must have lost it while he was out, Glare deduced, thankful the changeling’s involuntary reversion did not occur earlier. Glancing back, she approached the door. Can’t have dad walking in to find a changeling in his house, she figured, rotating the lock beneath the handle.
Returning her focus on Obsidian, she moved up to the side of the bed and wiggled in under the covers. Facing the changeling, she wrapped her hooves around his body and held him close, sighing as she closed her eyes.
How are you still out from just three drinks?
Obsidian had finally returned to the land of the living when a sparrow perched itself on the window’s ledge, chirping intermittently. “Mmmmrgh,” the changeling grumbled, cracking open an eyelid, only to clamp it shut immediately after suffering a retinal assault from the sun; an unusual phenomenon, considering the overcast skies.
Pulling the covers over his head, Obsidian attempted to open his eyes at a snail’s pace, allowing himself to adjust to the light more comfortably. His ears however, were still under attack from the annoying avian outside. It continued to hop up and down the ledge, until its tail burst into green flame. The sparrow flew off screaming, a brief trail of smoke marking its flight-path. Inside, the changeling pressed on the base of his horn as a migraine pulsed through his head.
Rolling out of the bed, Obsidian stumbled towards the window, closing the blinds. A large glass of water caught his eye atop the nearby dresser, with a note underneath. Downing the contents of the glass, he skimmed through the note.
Obsidian, out with dad, back after lunch, got a surprise, love Gla—“Love Glare? Surprise? What?”
An ear twitched at the sound of a distant door opening. Two sets of hoofsteps followed, accompanied by a third, more rapid set. Mild panic setting in, Obsidian quickly inspected himself in the mirror mounted on the wall. A quick flash of light and a grimace later, a blue unicorn stared back at him, just in time for a pair of knocks against his own door.
Glare’s voice followed. “Obsidian? Are you up?”
A short pause followed, before Obsidian manager to stammer, “Yea—yeah, I’m uhh, just putting on my face.”
“Well hurry up. There’s somepony I want you to meet.”
Confused, the changeling made his way to the door. As he reached for the handle, he flinched, sensing powerful emotions from the other side. Ignoring the panic that started to rise again, he pulled the door open.
“About time,” Glare started, wearing an excited smile. “I was wondering if you’d ever wake up.”
“Let’s just say alcohol and ‘lings don’t mix. Our livers are tiny. Next time I see that pegasus, I’m going to murder him.”
“Yeah, I remember you going into a disturbing amount of detail on that last night. Let’s just hold off on the murdering for now, okay? Come on.”
Descending the stairs, the pair took a right turn into the living room. Awaiting their arrival was Flare, who wore the faintest hint of a grin. “Well, look who finally got up. Sleep well?”
Before Obsidian had a chance to reply, a filly’s head popped up behind the couch. “Hello!”
The changeling blinked. “Is—is that—”
“That is.” Glare nodded, her eyes glistening. “That’s my sister.”
“The Doctors finally cured her?”
“You did!” Glint vaulted over the couch, tripping as she landed.
“Easy now, sweetie. You remember what we said?” Flare lectured, lifting the filly back onto her hooves. “You need to get used to using your hooves again.”
Glint pouted. “Arrgh, dumb hooves!”
Obsidian frowned in confusion. “Wait, I cured Glint? How?”
“A bit of an exaggeration, but you were reason she was cured in the first place,” Flare started, placing a hoof around Glint. He continued recounting the events leading up to Glint’s recovery in detail. When he finished, Flare shook Obsidian’s hoof. “I wish I could repay you for what you’ve done, but nothing would compare to giving me my daughter back.”
Obsidian fidgeted, not used to getting thanked. Managing an awkward smile, silence hung in the air until Glare spoke up, “Hey Glint, you want to go check out your room? Dad got you some new stuff last week.”
“But I wanna talk more with mister Obsidian! I’ve never met a changeling before.”
Glare’s eyes bulged, darting between the other three. Uh oh.
Aaaaand I’m buzzed, Obsidian resigned himself to the inevitable.
Flare froze. A single twitch was visible from one corner of his mouth. “Glare, please take Glint up to her room.”
“Dad,” Glare began.
“Now, please.”
Glare ushered her sister up the stairs. “Come on, Glint. Let’s go see what you’ve got upstairs.” Giving Obsidian a final, worried look, she disappeared.
Flare waited until he could no longer hear hoofsteps. “So. A changeling?”
Obsidian saw no reason to lie anymore. “That’s correct.”
“If I’m going to speak to you, could you at least do me the courtesy of dropping the facade?”
“Very well.” Nodding, Obsidian enveloped his body in green flames.
Flare took a step back when the dark creature appeared before him. Regaining his composure, he scrutinised Obsidian. “What are you playing at? If you’ve harmed Glare—”
“What makes you think I’ve harmed her?”
“You’re a changeling. That’s what your kind does. You worm your way into society and leech off innocent ponies, like a plague of locusts to crops.”
“Wow, three references to creepy crawlies in one sentence. Original,” Obsidian practically exuded sarcasm. “Typical pony. Overly dramatic, completely ignorant, and exhibiting textbook signs of speciesism.”
“How hypocritical of you.”
“Is it? Look at your hospitality up until now. Look how your demeanour changed. First thing you did was to accuse me of malicious behaviour with no proof whatsoever.”
“My demeanour tends to change when I’ve been lied to. As for proof? History is proof enough. Now get out of my house!” Flare shouted, pointing a hoof at the door.
“Dad!” Glare yelled as she reappeared at the base of the stairs. “You can’t talk to Obsidian like that!”
“That”—Flare poked Obsidian in the chest—“is a changeling, Glare! You know what they’ve done to Equestria. To our family! How can you even defend it and their kind for their actions?”
“Why are you judging an individual for the actions of a group? You can’t blame soldiers for carrying out orders.”
“Those soldiers are the reason your mother is not around anymore.”
“Obsidian didn’t mean to. It was an accid—mmph!” Glare covered her mouth when she realised what she had said.
“That one is responsible?” Flare exclaimed, looking between the pair. “You’re the one who murdered my wife? And you knew this whole time, Glare? You’ve been working with that—that thing that killed your mother, and it doesn’t bother you?”
“He didn’t murder anypony! It was a unicorn’s spell that bounced off his armour. He had nothing to do with it.”
“Oh, is that what it told you?”
“Glare”—Obsidian tapped Glare—“I think you need to stop talking.”
“Why? Something to hide?” Flare cut in. “Makes me wonder how many atrocities you have committed. How many ponies had to suffer because of you and your kind?”
“What do you know of suffering?” Obsidian barked. “We were starving. Dying. And it was entirely the fault of that xenophobic princess who parades around thinking she’s some buzzing sun goddess!”
“Don’t you dare disrespect Princess Celestia. That mare is a hero, and the kindest—”
“Enough!” Obsidian charged Flare, knocking him to the ground and pinning him on his back.
Glare shrieked, “Obsidian, stop!”
Ignoring Glare’s cries, the changeling pushed his head against Flare’s, lighting up his horn. In a flash, Flare went limp, and his facial expression became vacant.
A vision of darkness with blurry blue dots entered Flare’s mind. As the scene came into focus, he could make out hundreds of changelings crawling on the stone ground of a large cave. Weak. Emaciated. Many who were young. The vision faded all too quickly into nothing, before another appeared, this time from one’s point of view. The changeling piled several head-sized rocks into a mound, pausing as it looked around at countless rows of similar heaps.
Several other events flashed by in rapid succession. Princess Celestia reeling at the sight of Queen Chrysalis. Royal guards rounding up changelings and hauling them into overcrowded dungeons. The Canterlot invasion. An amethyst tail protruding from rubble. A forest littered with changelings, their bodies bruised, broken, or worse. Visions of changelings, hunted and chased out of towns.
Reality suddenly returned, when Glare pushed Obsidian off Flare. The stallion instantly regained consciousness, gasping in horror and panting as he watched the changeling return to his hooves. His hearing took a little extra time to return to normal, and could barely hear the muffled words Glare and Obsidian exchanged.
“Are you out of your mind? Attacking my dad? What’s gotten into you?”
“I didn’t attack him. He just received years of hatred, suffering, and sorrow in a concentrated dose,” Obsidian explained, a venomous growl to his voice. He turned, lowering his head towards Flare. “Many of those ‘lings were friends or family. I know the feeling of loss more than you could imagine. Watching as others cry and collapse, shouting the names of those they’ve lost into the sky. To feel each emotion pierce your heart like a dagger”—he placed the edge of his hoof on Flare’s chest and applied pressure—“Slowly. Gradually. These are fates I would not wish upon anyone.”
Flare’s mouth opened and closed multiple times and Obsidian stepped back. The changeling’s visions remained burned into his mind with intense clarity. “Obsidian, I—I had no idea.”
“I don’t exactly share my memories freely.” Realising his entire body was shaking as much as his voice had been quivering, Obsidian dropped on to the sofa and stared into the lifeless fireplace. “When we share energy, an emotional connection forms for several hours. Do you know the feeling of sharing a connection while comforting someling dying? It’s not their fear, not their helplessness that gets to you. It’s the fading, like dispersing smoke leaving you”—his voice faltered—“leaving you desperately searching for something no longer there. That’s when the hollow feeling sets in, as if you had died with them. And I have died. So many times.”
The changeling continued staring off into the distance, even as a long period of silence loomed over the three. Barely noticing the cushion shifting, Obsidian felt Glare sit down beside him, before her hooves enveloped him tightly. Leaning towards the unicorn, Obsidian shut his eyes in an attempt to stop tears from rolling out.
Flare finally rose from the floor. Backing away, he cleared his throat. “I’ll … I’ll be upstairs for a bit.” Turning around, he left the pair alone in silence, with Glare gently rocking back and forth.
Obsidian had almost forgotten about one final thing that hung in the air. “Glare?”
“Hmm?”
Hesitating, Obsidian placed a wing around the mare. “The feeling is mutual.”
The unicorn took a few seconds to understand. When she did, her only response was to squeeze Obsidian tighter.
Obsidian spent several hours wandering aimlessly through Canterlot to clear his head. Disguised once more, he found himself near the castle courtyard around mid-afternoon. The morning clouds that had covered the skies earlier had dispersed, bringing about a light chill.
Seating himself on a nearby bench, the changeling watched as ponies traversed the wide path, bordered by neatly trimmed hedges, flower beds, and red maple trees that stood out with their striking foliage. Looking up at the white castle and its numerous pointed turrets, resentment started to build up inside him.
Several minutes passed, when two familiar ponies emerged from the castle grounds. Princess Celestia and Princess Cadance conversed as they headed past Obsidian, whose loathsome expression intensified. Cadance looked in Obsidian’s direction momentarily, before continuing her conversation with Celestia. Soon after, the pair stopped and turned around, approaching the bench Obsidian occupied.
Sighing, the changeling muttered under his breath, “Great. Just what I need.”
The Princesses each sat beside Obsidian. Celestia was the first to speak. “A fine day today, is it not? Perhaps a little cold for my liking, but still wonderful weather.”
“Cut the crap Celestia. I know you know who I am.”
“Actually, it was I who had a suspicion,” Cadance spoke up. “Most ponies typically hold no ill will towards any of the Princesses, but you? Those are intense feelings you have there.”
“What. Do you want?” Obsidian growled through gritted teeth.
“To talk,” Celestia replied. “How are you faring in the Navy so far?”
“Don’t pretend to give a damn,” Obsidian spat. “You didn’t care when my Queen came to you for help. Why should you care now?”
Celestia sighed. “You have every right to be angry with me, Obsidian. My actions were short-sighted and borne of an irrational fear. Though the number of years I’ve ruled over Equestria runs into four-digit figures, it seems I still make plenty of mistakes. I failed at diplomacy, and I admit to that. Trying to improve the current situation is all I can do now.”
The changeling folded his hooves. “Well on behalf of everyling, you’re doing a great buzzing job. Now leave me alone.”
Princess Celestia looked off into the distance. After a period of silence, she looked back at the changeling. “Are you familiar with Hiigaran history?”
Obsidian hummed. “Why is there always a story about Hiigarans? Just say what you have to say.”
“Thousands of years ago, two great empires dominated our galaxy; the Hiigaran and the Taiidan. Each spread across hundreds of solar systems, but not without conflict. You see, tensions flared over who claimed ownership of planets across disputed borders, and after the Hiigaran Empire had enough of the Taiidan bribing and assassinating Galactic Council members to influence negotiations, they went to war. A war that did not end well for them.”
“Get to the point, Celestia.”
“Please, Obsidian. I’m trying to lead up to something. After the war, the Hiigarans were on the brink of extinction. A likely fate, had the Galactic Council not begged the Taiidan for mercy. An agreement was made under the condition that the Hiigarans would be sent into exile, with all memory of them expunged from history. Millennia passed, before the events of the Homeworld War. My point is, despite such conflict, despite even the brief period of control the Vaygr had over some Taiidan during the Vaygr Campaign, the Taiidan and the Hiigarans are now allies.”
“How underwhelming. You realise most of their citizens likely only know of those conflicts through other sources, right? Changelings, though? We’ve lived it. You can try reassuring me all you want, but if you’ve used a story where the moral is peace after several thousand years, you need to work on your speeches.”
“Please believe me when I say I do wish for peace and acceptance between our nations. I’d love to wake up tomorrow and see a world where ponies and changelings can co-exist, but these things take time. It was my hope that integrating changelings into our Navy would be a step towards that. That was how our relations with the griffons improved. It took years, but we got there. There’s no reason why it can’t work for your nation too. It certainly sounds better than thousands of years, no?”
Obsidian remained silent, refusing to look either Princess in their eyes.
Cadance leaned forward into Obsidian’s vision. “Do you mind if I ask you a question?”
“Something tells me my response will be irrelevant.”
“Why did you agree to serve in the Equestrian Navy?”
“I was chosen by my Queen.”
“Yes, but is that the only reason you serve? What else motivates you?”
Obsidian shrugged. “There seems to be a constant threat to our planet. I guess I just want to be a part of something that protects it. For the sake of my nation,” he clarified. “That, and I trust you about as far as I can throw you, when it comes to your Navy and its capabilities.”
Celestia appeared hurt. “After all this time, you still think so little of us? I suppose it’s understandable. Well, we’ve taken up enough of your time. I do hope you at least keep a more open mind about us.”
“Oh, he’s got more of an open mind than he lets on,” Cadance chimed in, a smirk on her face. “He’s just a little shy. What’s her name?”
“How do you—”
Cadance gave the changeling a playful nudge. “You seem to forget what I’m the Princess of. Don’t worry, I know her name. I just wanted to hear you say it.”
“If you breathe a single word to any—”
“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it. It’s more exciting to watch this way.” Winking, Cadance rose, before Obsidian could figure out what she meant. “Now as much as I’d love to chat with you some more, Celestia and I have places to be. Remember, you’re stronger together, just like our nations. Hold on to that.”
Obsidian watched as the pair departed. “One of these days, I’m going to commit regicide,” he muttered. Shaking his head, he leaned back on the bench and looked up into the sky, watching pegasi fly about. Two distant dots caught his attention, moving erratically, while a delta formation of birds followed. Squinting, Obsidian could make out faint screaming over the honking of geese.
At least this downtime wasn’t a complete waste.
Luna’s moon filtered through the blinds of Glare’s bedroom, partially illuminating her desk and nearby floorboards. A calm stillness hung in the air of the otherwise dark room. For the most part, the two figures that lied in the bed at one corner made little movement, though neither had fallen asleep for several hours.
Facing the wall was Obsidian, who had returned a few hours prior. A hoof draped over his side while a muzzle rested on his neck. Figuring neither would end up resting that night, his hushed voice filled the room. “Can we agree on something the next time we get time off between missions?”
“Hmm? What’s that?”
“Let’s avoid all this drama. Would be nice not to deal with it for a third time in a row.”
“Agreed. I think it all turned out well enough in the end though, no?” Glare asked, emphasising by wiggling closer to the changeling.
“I guess.”
Another period of silence fell. This time, Glare spoke up. “So how come you never told me about those memories before?”
“You sort of asked me once, but at the time, I didn’t feel comfortable discussing it with someone who I barely knew. I guess after that, the topic never came up”—Obsidian shrugged, rolling onto his back—“or I figured I’d rather not show you something so depressing. I don’t think I ever want to show you those memories, even if I did have a weak moment with your father. You saw the look on his face afterwards, didn’t you? Wasn’t even the worst of my memories, either.”
Repositioning, Glare rested her head and left hoof diagonally across Obsidian’s chest before continuing. “How about we agree to not keep any more secrets from here on out? As cliche as that sounds.”
“Ehh, can we at least keep us a secret?”
“What?” Glare was taken slightly aback. “Why?”
“Well, for starters, while it’s not explicitly forbidden, this isn’t exactly encouraged in the Navy.”
“I can quit. Glint is cured. She was the only reason I joined the Navy.”
“I’m guessing you’re still within your minimum service period, so that’s not going to happen.”
“Oh. Yeah, minimum for me is one and a half years. How long has it been now? About ten or eleven months since basic, I think.”
“Regardless, there’s another reason. Don’t take this the wrong way, but as a changeling, being with a pony—genuinely, that is … well, it’s conflicting.”
“You’re ashamed of it?”
“No point sugar-coating it, I guess. Not because it’s you, specifically. I mean—it’s just—it’s just hard to get over the history between ‘lings and ponies.”
“I see. And here I was, excited to finally be with somepony I could show off to my friends.”
“You mean you’ve never—”
“I’ve never had the time. When I was younger, I was studying. After university, I was going job to job. Freelancing for the Canterlot Museum of Cultural History was probably as close as I got to having a stable job, before they hired somepony else full time and kicked me out. Then, the sudden influx of technology after our first encounter with the Hiigarans put a lot of ponies out of work. Why hire me when so many others with years of experience are competing for the same jobs?”
“By this point, I’d say you’re better off trying to track down Daring Do. With the skills you’ve learned from the Navy, plus your education, you’d make a good team.”
“Hah. If only.”
“I’m serious. Turns out those books aren’t works of fiction. They’re real. They’re embellished for entertainment purposes, but they're based on actual events.”
“I honestly can’t tell if you’re joking or not.”
“How many times have you heard me tell a joke? Sarcasm aside.”
“Point taken. How did you figure out she’s real?”
“I’ve seen her. In a few isolated places. I’m surprised word never spread, to be honest. She never attempted to hide herself. Wonder what her relationship is with the author of those books.”
“Next time you see her, put in”—Glare interrupted herself with a yawn—“put in a good word for me. You feel like sleeping yet?”
“Not really. Don’t let me stop you, though.”
“Your loss. Glint is going to bombard you with questions tomorrow.”
“Fine by me.”
Glare giggled. “We’ll see if you’ll be saying that later on.” Sighing contently, she closed her eyes.