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// The Velvet Halter 
// Story: New Pony Tales 
// by Gabriel LaVedier 
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	Once upon a time, in a city not as grand as Canterlot but nearly so, there lived a very noble and powerful Duchess, the manager of the city and close environs in accordance with her standing. She was an earth pony, in a warm cocoa shade, with a silken mane of dark purple and light purple eyes. Despite being wealthy, charming, beautiful and well over the age of majority she was not even interested in anypony. Whispers abounded about the cause, with no specific evidence in any direction.
The Duchess, whose name was Alta Primera, had been born with what the doctors of bio-thaumatology had called an Extra-Racial Thaumatic Affinity, known to most others as a wild talent. She could feel little prickles and flows of the passing ambient magic from others, and all of them seemed to pass through her and leave a poor feeling in their wake. No stallion or mare, however noble, rich, intelligent or charming ever felt right.
That all changed one night when she was introduced to a mysterious pegasus stallion. He was a deep, rich midnight blue color, with a light turquoise mane that was styled into rolling waves. His body was surprisingly long and lithe, like the model mares. He was wearing a tuxedo on his upper body, and, for some reason, a black velvet halter enhanced with gold accents. None at the gathering knew who the stallion was, but Alta did not care. She could feel... a strange sensation from him. It was not the usual prickling of magic, and it was thick with some kind of magical miasma. But under it was a certain pleasantness.
“Greetings, Duchess. My name is Masquerade. I am a stranger in this city, raised in a place far away but among this sort of nobility. Please forgive my intrusion.” His voice was light, soft but very masculine. His eyes remained properly down but still flicked up to take in Alta's pretty face.
Alta was enraptured. Such handsome features, such a perfect body, such an excellent sense of style, though the halter was an odd touch. But all those things meant nothing. What truly mattered was the feeling she got from him. That beautiful feeling beneath the miasma. “Masquerade... your name is nice, as is all I may perceive. I have never met a stallion like you, not in all my days... please, accompany me this night.”
Alta and Masquerade spent the whole party together, snacking, talking, and once sharing a very innocent, non-contact dance. All through that night Alta was drawn to what little trace of wonderful feeling she could feel radiating from Masquerade. He was very shy and retiring, shrinking from attention and praise. It was all so endearing.
“I am amazed by this wonderful city. It is beautiful. And the realm's manager is quite wonderful. Please... may I return again?” Masquerade did not want to leave when the night was over.
“I will arrange some gathering to give you that very chance. I find you strangely enrapturing, and I wish to explore this feeling more,” Alta responded, reaching up to try and stroke the stallion's cheek, and halter.
Masquerade pulled away suddenly, his own hoof making sure his halter was on properly. “I will do anything you like and join you for all the activities you wish... but you cannot touch my halter.” With that he made his way out of the manor.
As promised, by both, more gatherings of the grand were arranged, from balls to races to dinners, and Masquerade was forever available to be at Alta's side through each. She found herself growing fonder and fonder of the mysterious and retiring stallion, and grew double fascinated with his twin mysteries: the stranger heaviness over the wonderful aura, and his constant warnings to never touch or remove his black velvet halter.
It finally happened that Alta was unable to put off the fact that she had fallen for the modest but charming Masquerade. The arranged a ducal wedding immediately, making it the grandest spectacle the duchy had seen in generations, surpassing the weddings of most of the members of her family.
On the honeymoon night, before the first joining as wife and husband, the new Duke Masquerade told his wife, as they kissed and pressed to one another, “Even now, when we are joined as spouses, please... you must never remove my halter.”
The mystery had burned hot in Alta's heart, teasing her, sending dreams and idle curiosities about why this charming stallion was so concerned over a piece of gold-accented velvet. She would not be denied her curiosity. She would discover the mystery of the object and perhaps of the feeling she ever got from her new husband.
While Masquerade was distracted with a kiss, and his eyes were closed tight, Alta deftly unlatched the halter and pulled it off of Masquerade's snout, breaking the kiss to send it to the floor.
The distraught stallion snapped his eyes open and scarcely had the time to scream before he was engulfed in a wave of green fire which cleared a moment later. His body was stark black and shiny, semi-flexible chitin over his whole surface, with membranous green areas over his belly and serving as tail and wings. Holes were shot through his legs and wings, while a single, smooth horn rose from his brow. His eyes were a simple expanse of blue, wavering, filled with betrayal and laden with greenish-gold tears. “You swore to me you would never remove it! I told you never to take it off!”
Alta stared in shocked disbelief. Not at the marvel of her husband becoming a Changeling, but by the wave of sensation she felt from him. When the halter fell and the fire cleared there gave a rush of pure joy, a warm and deeply pleasant sensation she had never experienced before. She had tasted the small trace and realized it had been hidden by the thick magic of the halter. “What is that thing? It was... hiding you from me. I feel... I feel a wonderful magical aura that I have never felt from any creature in all my life. I tasted small morsels while you wore it but now... it is free...”
Masquerade looked aside, in shame, and lightly kicked the halter with a holed leg. “I was born with a defect. All the doctors and scientists and healers in the world said an important gland within would never work properly. I could never take a disguise. The only hope was that. An enchanted creation, the only one in the world. If I wore it I could live as a pony, look like a pony, be among ponies. I would be useless to Changelings. But perhaps pass well among ponies. But now...” He buzzed his wings, looking to the glass doors that led to the balcony.
“Wait! You cannot leave me!” Alta grasped the smooth, cool chitin of her husband, squeezing as tightly as her earth pony body could. “I know what I was feeling now. Mendacity. All my life, every stallion and mare presented had their own motives, and they were naked to me thanks to this power. Your halter was a lie, a choking fog, but your motives were so pure they bled through even so. Now that I have you please do not leave me.”
The greenish-gold tears fell from Masquerade's eyes, leaving the barest scent of honey. “I am a Changeling. Barely tolerated in the best of times,” For this was in a less enlightened age, “And I lied to you. Let me go so I will spare you. You may marry one more fitting to you.”
Alta shamelessly kissed Masquerade's fanged mouth, showing as much love as any pony could show another sentient being. “You came to me without greed or intrigue, lacking labyrinthine schemes and designs. You wanted my love and care alone. None is more fitting.”
The Duchess and Duke offered no explanation of the sudden change in the Duke's appearance. They only went on, as in love as it was possible for any two creatures to be. The only strange thing noted was a manor guard reporting that on the night after the honeymoon the Duchess casually threw a black velvet halter into the fireplace, and ignored as it burned to cinders with a green flash of expiring magic.