Changing Times’ Notes: Princess Twilight once told me that that Pinkie threw a funeral for her the day after her coronation. When I asked why, she said it was because becoming a princess meant becoming a politician. This, of course, lead to me asking what that had to do with anything, and the only responses I could get were the vaguest musings that Pinkie Pie was being Pinkie Pie.
Looking back on this report, though, I think I might understand the why a little better now.
Blood is Denser Than Water: A Report by Princess Twilight Sparkle of Equestria
So Morpheus told you about the Summer’s End Festival last time, but he may have neglected to mention that somepony somehow got a picture of him carrying me home that night. The headlines had not been pretty, and ponies had been coming from across Equestria to see me—many of them bringing their so-called problems with the changelings to me. I didn’t have a court nor a guard at the time, yet they came time and again thinking they could sneak a private audience to convince me of the evils of changelings.
Princess that I was, I couldn’t turn them away—especially if it gave me a chance to show them the error of their ways—yet it kept me busy for weeks after the fair. A decent amount of the following month had me trapped in a perpetual state of politely declining officials’ requests to remove or eradicate the ‘changeling menace.’
I sighed internally once more, giving up on trying to explain the situation as it was. Clearly, the mayor of Manehattan didn’t want the truth. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Mayor Pencil Pusher. Iron Charger has always been a changeling. I can’t give you the real one, because there is no actual star hoofball player named Iron Charger. From what I understand, a few harvesters will sometimes go into sports to collect the adoration of their fans.”
“Yes. Yes. He explained that to the reporters.” Pencil Pusher, who was large enough to push plenty more than pencils, frowned. “I’ve known Iron since college, though. We played for years together before he went pro and I moved on to politics. I refuse to believe that thing currently playing for the team was the same pony I knew.”
I smiled without really meaning it. The ten previous attempts to explain this were wearing me thin. “Well, have you tried talking to him about it instead of jumping straight to me? That’s what I’d do if I had a friendship problem like this.”
I desperately tried not to massage my temples in frustration. Finding the urge to restlessly twitch too high, I reached out and grabbed one of the brownies the duke before me had so thoughtfully provided—the only positive note about the meeting so far. Chewing bought me more time, but, in the end, I still needed to provide an answer.
“Duke Brown Nose, there’s really not much I can do. Negotiations are all about compromising, and the Hive of the First Father shouldn’t have to relocate their harvesters from your duchy just because they no longer have to pay local taxes. As of this time, they aren’t citizens. Some of the more irksome nobles have even been arguing they don’t even have rights as they never officially attended the Warmblut conventions.”
I sipped tersely from my tea as I tried not to glare across the map at him. He was at least pretending to be civil, after all, and his greed could actually prove useful here. At least he didn’t care where the money came from—pony or changeling.
“Treating a millennia old treaty as word of goddess. We didn’t even know the breezies then! If you really want them putting money in your coffers again, the only real solution is to help me pass the legislation making them citizens—assuming I even get to even propose it, of course. You know quite well how most of the House of Lords and House of Commons are taking things, and don’t even get me started on the Senate.”
Duke Brown Nose nodded with all the false amicability his name implied, although there was, in fact, a splotch of brown fur on his nose. I didn’t trust him as far as I could throw him, but enough ponies were coming to me with their fears and complaints that I needed all the support I could get in calming the general populace down.
I looked at the mare before me, eyebrow arched. Morpheus had mentioned some of what she had done before she arrived in Ponyville, but I had thought he’d been exaggerating. “You mean to tell me that your head butler—who has served your family for forty odd years and helped raise you from foalhood by your own admission—revealed his identity as a changeling and you threw him in the stocks.”
I couldn’t help but use the ‘To the Sun’ voice, and the mare melted before me like quivering jello.
“It was the only thing we had on hoof at the country estate….” The mare squeaked, tea cup trembling as she tried to take a sip as protocol demanded.
I sighed, too tired to try and keep my facade from slipping. “I suppose it’s not the worst reaction there’s been. You stopped at one, unlike Stablem. You are going to go and release him immediately, though, or, Celestia help me, I will put you in the stocks for an hour and see how you like it!”
Castle actually had those, although they had built in massagers and velvet lining. When I had asked why he needed such things, he mentioned something about having to build them for my brother and I wisely shut up on the matter. They definitely weren’t something I’d ever want to use, but Prim Rose didn’t know that, and I was really irked this time.
“Thank you so much for understanding.” I smiled wearily at Fancypants, letting my mask completely drop for a moment. “A lot of other nobles and politicians have been just so…” I trailed off while trying to think of a word that didn’t sound insulting.
“Say no more, Miss Twilight.” No royal title, and only the tiniest bow—just enough to be respectful while not making me uncomfortable. This was why I liked Fancypants. “And again, I do apologize for taking your time, but I came precisely for that reason. Several of the cliques I associate with were growing antsy, and I felt it would be best to come represent them all myself.” He chuckled, rising from his seat to head for the door. “I figured if it helps cut down Princess Celestia’s workload, then it would be even more helpful for you. No offense.”
“None taken.” I shook my head. “I’m not sure I would have lasted if anypony else had come. I really needed to see some ponies who are actually willing to listen.”
“Good, good!” He stomped a hoof for emphasis. “I really must be off, though. It’s my anniversary with Fleur in a week, and I wanted to order some gifts from lady Rarity while I was here. If I’m lucky, I’ll reach the boutique just before she closes for lunch.
“Say hello for me, then.” I waved as he left, pulling my relatively new and sadly neglected Daring Do book from the shelf. Opening it slowly, reverently, I began to read.
Then, the all too familiar knock of hoof on crystal rang through the halls once more.
Huffing, I set the book on my desk and stood from the chair I had been resting in. Summoning a mirror, I cast a cantrip to spruce myself up once more. They were fading faster and faster as the weeks of meeting with politicians and nobles went on, but I had actually managed a shower today before Fancypants arrival. I was all but guaranteed to look fabulous for the next few hours, although I hopefully wouldn’t need that long to sort out whoever was at the door.
Daintily carrying myself through Castle, I managed to make it so not a feather was out of place. Before the door, the knock came impatiently again, and I hesitated momentarily. Finally, I ruffled my wings and ran a hoof through my mane.
I could do this. I was Princess Twilight Sparkle, and I was not going to let things get to me.
Smiling amicably, I opened the door to find the last noble I ever wanted to deal with.
“Princess Twilight.” Prince Blueblood bowed his head.
“One second!” I squeaked and slammed the door on him. There was a yelp as the door presumably hit his snoot, and I flew through the hallways until I reached Morpheus’s room.
Barely acknowledging Hera’s tense salute as I barreled past her, I pointed accusingly at Morpheus. “Nope! Not dealing with him! It’s your turn to do this! Quick, turn into me and go answer the door!”
He sighed. “And you were doing so well…. Who could have possibly—” He blinked. “Oh, Spi just messaged me that Prince Blueblood is poking around the grounds. That would explain it.”
He stood from his desk and rolled up the maps on it before putting them away. There was a flash of emerald flames, and I was looking at myself. He— She? He opened his mouth and my voice was the one that came out. “I can handle this one. Just wait for me to get him settled so he won’t stumble onto the ruse.”
As the doors to Castle closed behind me, the loud, obnoxious, pompous whine of hot air trickling from a mouth-sized hole in a head as big as Mount Canter was thankfully silenced. I felt only a little guilty for leaving Mo to his fate. In fact, I felt more guilty for leaving Blueblood with Morpheus than for leaving Morpheus with Blueblood. I had heard enough stories of the changeling lords to know Mo could probably eat Blueblood for lunch, both metaphorically and literally.
I was off to Rarity’s, though, for a lunch of my own. With luck, I’d catch her and Fancypants before they headed out, and, if I didn’t, there were only so many places Rarity would take Fancypants in Ponyville.
It was a bright sunny day, yet the cobblestones beneath my hooves were cool. The air was crisp—with a playful breeze nipping at my withers—and the leaves on the trees were a myriad of colors.
Soon it would be time for the Running of the Leaves again, and I was curious where the changelings would fall—if they ran, that is. I had figured if Mo ran the others would jump at the chance, and had been dropping hints that I’d be running in the hopes that Mo would join, but he hadn’t mentioned anything so far.
Perhaps I would just ask him directly and claim it as a ‘date.’
Regardless, reaching Rarity’s Boutique, I found I was too late. The open sign had been flipped to closed, and a small note was tacked to the door. Immaculate cursive script confirmed that Rarity was indeed ‘out to lunch’ and gave the restaurant she was visiting in case of ‘fashion emergency.’
Welp. It seemed I was going to Leroux’s. That was on the other side of town if I remembered right, so it was probably better to take to the skies.
Unfurling my wings, I launched myself from the ground let the breeze carry me across town—gliding rather than flying to avoid exerting myself. Leroux’s was probably the second fanciest restaurant in town, after all, and it was only rated second because because being griffon owned hurt its standing for some stupid reason.
“Ah, Princess Twilight! It is great to see you again!” The griffon handling the surprisingly large line of ponies waved to me as I landed. “Allow me to get you your table.”
“I’m sorry. Do I know you?” I tilted my head to the side.
“No, but you know my brother in the loosest sense.” The waiter laughed. “He and I are working here to save up enough to open up a pub. You bought from his stand during the Summer’s End Festival.”
“Oh!” I smiled, recalling a griffon with black feathers and a grey pelt. “Sorry. I didn’t know he was local. I can see the family resemblance, though. Are you both from the Isles?”
“Born and raised!” The griffon laughed. “Had to leave for a fancy culinary school in Léon, though. That’s why we’re here at Leroux’s—wanted to do our internship abroad.”
“From the Griffish Isles to Léon to Equestria?” I giggled. “You’re certainly more well-traveled than most ponies I know. I’d sort of expect you in the kitchen, though, with how good your fish was.”
“Bah! Peasant food!” A large, rotund, and very red griffon waddled out the door. “Very good peasant food, but peasant food nonetheless. Is why I—Louis Leroux—pay for them to participate in events like the Summer’s End Festival. They make very good carnival faire, but their real talent is wasted at Leroux's. Better to overwork and overpay them by having them take all the non-cook positions so they might buy that pub of theirs one day.”
He rolled over to glower at the waiter. “Speaking of which, I do not pay you to talk to the customers, poissonnier!” He gestured to the line of ponies behind me. “We have too many to allow it these days!”
He beamed at me like I was a prime cut of fatty meat—which was probably praise given both his girth and profession. “All thanks to you, of course, mademoiselle. Or should I say Princesse?”
“No fancy titles, please. The chef should always be the ruler of his kitchen.” I shook my head thinking of Spike before tilting it in curiosity over his thanks. “If I may be so bold, though. What exactly did I do?”
“You ate fish prepared by my poissonnier, mademoiselle!” The griffon jiggled like pudding as he roared with laughter. “Did you believe it would go unnoticed? Half the nation is vying to try the newest trend—meat—and Leroux’s is one of the few establishments in Equestria to serve such faire. Business is through the roof, and you will always have a seat here because of it!”
“Oh….” I smiled sheepishly and rubbed the back of my head. “I didn’t realize I’d started a culinary revolution. I was just here to see if I could catch a friend.” I looked down the line. “By any chance did you already let one Fancypants and Rarity in?”
“Fancypants… Fancypants…” Leroux muttered.
“I believe I just let them in, sir.” The waiter puffed his chest out. “Fancypants was on the VIP list, so I let him and Miss Rarity right in. I can take Princess Twilight to them if you wish.”
“Non! Non! The mademoiselle said we were not to use her title!” A very thick talon left a resounding meaty smacking noise as it hit the waiter between his wings.
Everypony—myself included—flinched, although I didn’t speak up at the sight. Everypony else murmured, but I had read enough about griffons to know that was just a pat on the back. Probably hadn’t even tickled.
Leroux scoffed— squawked? Squawked. “Regardless, poissonnier, take the mademoiselle to her own private table and let her friends join her—not the other way around. It would not do to even indirectly slight our most esteemed guest!”
He beamed at me again. “Not that you seem the type to find such a slight, mademoiselle, but it is the principal of the matter!” He pointed skyward fervently.
“As long as I’m not causing you to go out of your way for me, I have no complaints.” I smiled.
“Non. Non.” The chef waved dismissively. “It is no trouble at all. I have never even needed to use the traditional royal table before—no griffon nobles in Equestria, you see—so, really, you give me the highest honor.”
The waiter bowed. “Now then, Miss Sparkle. If you would follow me to your table and allow me and my brother the honor of serving you?”
I giggled and waved a hoof. “Lead on then.”
The royal table was sized for griffons, not ponies, so it was a mild inconvenience to find myself hardly able to look over the table. It was rather refreshing, however, to see that the table wasn’t specifically for me. It actually was one of those traditional tables to be reserved for griffon royalty.
I took to studying the elaborate carvings placed into the sides—tiny replicas of the old kings of Léon. I couldn’t recall all their names, but I did notice the most ‘modern’ was still several centuries old. This table was an antique. A very expensive antique. A very expensive antique on a raised platform in the very center of the restaurant—placed such that every eye could behold the majesty of its occupants as they feasted above their lessers.
Not that anypony was less than me or anything.
“Twilight, darling, if you wanted to join us, you didn’t have to go through so much trouble!”
There were the others—tiny next to the table. Rarity’s eyes barely cleared the edge, and Fancypants’ muzzle was half obscured. Looking around, I confirmed that I was probably the only pony in the establishment whose head cleared the table.
Wow. That really put all those teeny-tiny alicorn growth spurts in perspective. I’d still be dwarfed by any of the royal griffons this table was usually reserved for, but I had never really considered the implications of the fact that I had grown and was continuing to do so.
One day, I might even be as tall as Celestia.
“I say, I wasn’t expecting the royal treatment when I suggested Leroux’s to Miss Rarity here.” Fancypants bowed his head, oblivious to my internal squirming. “It is good of you to join us, though, Miss Twilight.”
“Well, I would have just joined you, but the manager insisted.” I smiled sheepishly. “Apparently, I’m responsible for a rather large influx of business.”
“Indeed.” Fancypants chuckled, levitating several cushions on top of one another so we could sit with a bit more clearance above the table. “I actually brought Miss Rarity here with that in mind. I’ve heard their bouillabaisse is to die for.”
“Would you care for the bouillabaisse then?” The waiter—who had apparently came back at some point—asked with a quiet politeness I was not expecting. I jumped about four hooves high from his interjection, not realizing he’d been behind me, and barely managed to avoid falling to the floor.
Fancypants and Rarity, though, didn’t even flinch.
“Why, yes, my good sir. I will be having a baguette with some brie as an appetizer, the largest bowl of bouillabaisse available, and a glass of one of your finest wines. I have no preferences as to which wine, so surprise me with something appropriate.”
Rarity bit her lip for a moment, eyes glancing through the menu. “The watercress salad actually sounds really good, but I suppose I did come for the meat-eaters experience…. I’ll have the same as Fancypants is having—” She looked to me. “—unless you have any suggestions, Twilight?”
I quickly scanned the menu while trying to get my heart rate under control from the waiters entrance. Predators were quiet when they wanted to be. Sweet Celestia, one would think living with changelings would habituate me to such surprises, but no.
“I don’t see anything?” I ruffled my wings. “Honestly, the bouillabaisse sounds really— Oh my gosh! They have escargot! I remember Sunset writing me that she really liked the escargot when she went on a big date in the human world. Then, I told her what escargot probably translated to, and she promptly swore to never eat something foreign without the translation ever again.”
“And what is escargot?” Rarity flipped through the menu to find the appropriate entry.
“Snails....” I hummed in thought as Rarity dropped her menu like a hot potato. “I admit, I’m really curious to know what they taste like.” My face scrunched. “Perhaps an order of the appetizer first, then? I want to make sure I like them before committing to the escargot tortellini. How does that even work anyway?”
“There’s an Istallian stallion in the kitchen who likes to experiment.” The waiter shrugged, momentarily dropping his rigid posture. “The boss loves it, but, personally, I always find snails to be way too rubbery. Kinda makes it hard to enjoy the pasta.”
The shrug turned seamlessly into a bow as he became our waiter once more. “Now, to make sure I’ve gotten everything down. The fine lady and gentlecolt will each be having a baguette with brie, Leroux’s world-famous bouillabaisse, and a glass of wine—chef’s choice. The Princess will be having an order of escargot to start with and will be deciding where to go from there.” He looked at me. “Would you also prefer a wine?”
I bit my lip. “Well… I was fine with water, but I suppose I may as well live a little.”
“Then I shall be off.” He bowed to me again, and I couldn’t help but squirm. Seeing this, he straightened up and at least allowed himself to wave as he departed.
Turning to the others, I smiled. “So, how has both of your days been?”
“Impeccable.” Fancypants straightened his monocle. “But, then again, you knew that from when you asked me before.”
“It’s been most wonderful, darling.” Rarity tittered. “It had a bit of a rough start, but it wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle. Not everypony looks good in black and green, you know, so I was up until three in the morning debating just what colors to use for my next line up.”
She squeed. “It’ll be worth all the hassle, though. I mean, there was bound to be a couple other designers who had the same idea I did for their fall lineup. Changelings were bound to be ‘in’ in Canterlot when Celestia announced negotiations—regardless of whether ponies actually supported them or not.”
Rarity smiled the most dazzling of smiles. “I doubt they have the same resources I do for next time, though. Dear Morpheus has just given me so many ideas, and that silk he sold me is going to revolutionize the industry.”
“Silk?” Fancypants arched his brow.
“Yes! Changeling silk!” The smile went from dazzling to blinding. “I don’t want to spoil anything, but suffice it to say the good Prince Morpheus has allowed me to be the first to break into the market with what might be the single most flexible material I’ve ever seen!”
“Well, that sounds wonderful, my dear!” Fancypants chuckled. “I wonder, though. If it’s as flexible as you say… do you think I’d be able to use it in one of my other businesses? Obviously, I’ll need to wait until your next debut to work it into my own clothing lines, but I own several hospitals that would be interested in a new generation of gauze, and the airship industry is always looking for new kinds of cloth or rope to experiment with.”
“I must confess, I’m not entirely sure.” Rarity hummed. “The manual Morpheus gave me did mention building purposes for it, but I skimmed most of that chapter.”
I should’ve known the answer to this, but research was hard to do with all the nobles banging down my door recently. “I don’t know about ponies, but I have seen it used to treat changeling wounds.” I looked up, pondering. “I’ve also seen it used to make webs and cocoons, so I assume it can be used to fashion rope or a canvas balloon. No idea how well that would work, though.”
“Your appetizers, ladies and gentlecolts.”
Our conversation was put on hold as the server returned. A plate of small speckled shells was placed in front of me—each bubbling like a small cauldron. Levitating one up, I tentatively sniffed the inside before deciding to just go all in. My tongue dove inside the shell to half-suck, half-scoop the snail out of the shell with a schlurp.
Rarity whimpered at the sound, but as the meat hit my tongue I knew I’d made a good choice. A mix of butter and spices splashed onto my taste buds, and the little wriggler all but slithered down my throat with how greasy it was. With a second schlurp—and a second whimper from Rarity—I ate another, taking care to chew this time.
The waiter had been right; they were kind of rubbery.
“Reminds me of the time Sunset took me for kalimari.” I hummed in contentment after swallowing.
“And what’s kalimari, dear?” Rarity asked—no doubt looking for a distraction.
“Squid.” I smirked, knowing I had finally gotten a little payback for all Rarity’s former matchmaking.
“Wha-ha-huh?!”
Oh. Oops. Hadn’t been going for the faint. At least she was on a cushion.
“Can we get some ice for her?” I smiled sheepishly at the waiter. “Also, an order of that escargot tortellini, if you don’t mind. This stuff is great!”
Fancypants monocle fell as I schlurped yet another snail out of its shell.
