A wicker basket was balanced atop the white cloth resting upon his wing casing, carried with expert ease gained through years of practice from waiting tables. A confident smile spread across his chubby, chitinous cheeks as he strode down the path leading toward Drizzly Day and Skydancer’s house.
Or, more importantly, the very home a certain handsome pegasus was staying for the duration of his visit. Hopefully, it would be a lengthy stay.
Better yet, a permanent one. Perhaps if he found himself so thoroughly enamored with the prospect of studying the wild, untapped weather patterns of the Neighagara Forest or enjoyed a taste of the quiet village life kept him from all the hustling and bustling of Cloudsdale, not to mention all the distractions that came with it, as Hawkeye would tell upon returning from his travels.
Or, Maple dared to think as he bit down on his lip to withhold a merry chitter, if he finds the right changeling to love him as he deserves and shares his own in kind.
With a swish of his orange tail, he ascended the wooden stairs leading up to the porch, arriving with a bit of a skip and a hop before he stopped in front of the door and rapped his hoof against it thrice. His ears twitched as he heard a filly’s voice call out, “Be right there!”
Maple’s smile broadened. He knew that voice quite well. So too did he know the way her hooves thumped against the floor like she was trying not to gallop, but only just keeping herself to a brisk trot as she hurried to greet him. Sure enough, he heard a rustle of wings, then a quick thud of a hoof hitting the bannister before the other fumbled with the latch.
The metal latch jiggled about for a moment before opening with a click. The door pulled open to reveal a pegasus filly who stood half a head shorter than he and just a tad pudgier than average, her coat was a soft, pretty violet as pure as the flowers which shared the color, her mane a deep purple that matched the edges of the sky at sunset. As always, she wore it tied in a high ponytail that trailed down her shoulders.
“Hello, Maple,” Sure Stroke greeted with a smile and fluff of her feathers. “What’re you doing here today?” Her eyes flitted past his shoulders, drawing her to lean to her right and raise a brow. “And what’s with the picnic basket?”
Maple bit his lip, thinking on his answer for a moment. “Uh …” He glanced away from her deep purple eyes, his smile faltering a fraction as blood filled his cheeks. Running into Drizzly or Skydancer would have been far easier. They weren’t nearly as likely to tease.
Sure Stroke, on the other hoof …
Well, she had adapted to the village quite nicely. In no small part thanks to the terrible twins, Aspire and Esalen. Already he could see the wheels turning and turning in her head, and the corners of her mouth tugging into a smile that sent a shiver down his spine.
A pony making a changeling’s carapace itch. Oh, his parents would never let him live this down if they learned of it.
“Were you looking for someone?” she sang teasingly.
“Er, y-yes.” Maple shifted his weight from hoof to hoof. His eyes fell to the wooden floor beneath him. “I was, ah, wondering if your … uh …” he trailed off into an unintelligible mix of mumbling and nervous chittering, his ears pinning back against his mane.
Sure Stroke giggled. “You know,” she said as though talking about the weather, “I’ve never seen him so happy or excited to spend time with another pony outside our family. You must’ve really left an impression the first day he blew up Sweet Treat’s shop.”
Black chitinous ears stood up ramrod straight. Maple’s heart leapt and hammered in his chest. “R-really?” he asked.
“Yup. Not to mention the second round with his rainbow goop experiment.” Her eyes glittered with mischief. “Mom’s taken away all his beakers of liquid rainbow for a week because he made a mess of himself and tracked it across the floor. Then she heard he got it all over your carapace and added another. He’s been whining about it ever since.”
Wincing, Maple shifted in place. “Should I give him some space then?”
“Oh, no. He’s so bored he’s ready to pluck his own feathers out. Seeing you will just about make his week.” The younger filly turned away and trotted toward the hallway leading to the bedrooms. “Oh, Altocumulous!” she sang. “Your favorite baker changeling is here! And he’s clean of that rainbow mess you splattered on him!”
The sound of hooves scuffing and thumping against hardwood and feathers rustling tickled Maple’s ears. He watched as Sure Stroke jumped nimbly out of the way, grinning like her boyfriend in the midst of one of his tricks, as Alto hurried into the living room.
Periwinkle wings unfurled in challenge, his feathers bristled angrily, and those molten gold eyes shone with indignant fire. “Stop,” he said slowly, “saying my full name, Doodle.”
She waggled her ears. “Never,” she shot back, playfully booping his nose before turning to return to her room. “Play nice with Maple, Altocumulous. No more blowing up the best pancake maker in the village, or I might have to tell Queen Euphoria.”
She scooted down the hallway before either stallion could give reply. The pair sputtered, their cheeks flushed as blood arose to tinge carapace as black as midnight and dust Alto’s coat with a rosy pink hue.
For a moment, Alto glared down the hall, his feathers still bristling, but slowly relaxing as he took a deep breath. With a sigh, he turned to Maple. “My apologies,” he began cooly. “Sure Stroke has always been a bit precocious, but dating Aspire has given her quite the penchant for mischief and teasing.”
“It’s natural here,” Maple replied. “Most ponies end up joining in our games eventually. If you stay, you’ll probably do the same at some point.”
Alto snorted, his lips twitched into a small smile. “Perhaps,” he said, looking over to Maple for the first time. Those gorgeous gold eyes of his nearly made Maple’s knees knock. He blinked once, then tilted his head. “What’s in the picnic basket? If you don’t mind me asking, of course.”
Maple glanced over his shoulder at the picnic basket and cloth. His long, serpentine tongue felt as though it were tied in a knot.
The words were right there in his head. All he had to do was open his mouth and tell Alto his plan.
Please work. Don’t fail me now.
He took a deep breath and, after a moment to shuffle his hooves again, said, “I heard from a few stallions on the weather team that there was going to be a storm out on the west side of the lake. There’s a little spot where we can watch it if you like. There’s a small cave in the side of the falls, so we won’t have to worry about getting wet or hit by lightning.” Thinking on it a moment, he forced himself to mumble, “I made us some food, in case you wanted snacks.”
Alto’s periwinkle ears shot up straight, his eyes went wide as dinner plates, and a grin—an actual grin!—spread slowly across his handsome face.
It was the first time Alto had ever looked at Maple with such raw, naked joy on his face.
Maple made sure to take in every detail before those kissable lips formed the words he’d been so longing to hear.
“I’d love to.”
The flight across Lake Neighagara had been quite lovely, in Maple’s opinion.
At first, Alto had forgotten just what he was and offered to help him fly over. A rather sweet gesture that warmed his heart, enough that he nearly had given into that selfish little voice in his head that whispered sweet images of himself held snug in the handsome pegasus’s hooves and pretended he couldn’t change into a pegasus himself.
But he managed to behave. Instead, he assumed his favored disguise—a slender pegasus stallion of average build, coat as white as snow and mane light blue with a flash of white, like lightning cutting through the sky.
Alto had fixed him with an appraising look before nodding approvingly. “Quite a disguise,” he mused as they flew.
“Do you like it?” Maple asked.
“It looks very genuine and it suits you nicely. I’d imagine you would look something like that if you’d been born a pegasus, actually.” Pausing a moment, he gave Maple a once over then smiled. “Though, I would rather it a bit closer to your natural build.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. You look fine the way you are in natural form. Better than fine, actually. Handsome. I rather prefer it, to be perfectly honest.”
Though his words were rife with a cool, clinical honesty, they did bring a heat to Maple’s cheeks that would have almost certainly flushed his carapace a deep black all the way to the tips of his ears. If only he had been in natural form.
In his disguise, he could regulate what he showed. To a degree.
A quick glance at the surface of the water showed a light dusting of pink in his cheeks. Maple cursed his choice of coat color, but only for a second before he recalled Alto’s words.
The disguise suited him. And Alto could almost imagine him born as a pegasus. Looking just like this.
And yet, he thought as he slowly turned east and guided Alto toward the falls, and away from black storm clouds and rumbling of thunder over the opposite side of the forest, he prefers me as I was born. A changeling.
They touched down on the soft grass in a brisk canter, never stopping as they hurried over to their destination.
“I wonder if there will be a lot of lightning,” Alto mused aloud. He glanced over his shoulder and beamed at the distant storm. Another rumble of thunder coaxed a gleeful laugh. “Oh! With thunder like that, I’d wager there’ll be plenty! Look, you can already see a strong anvil! Now, if only there could be a wild tornado! Then it would be a real show!”
On that, Maple would quite heartily disagree. Regardless of whether he knew what an ‘anvil’ was in weather. But he bit his tongue and took a moment to enjoy the grin on Alto’s face as he was engulfed in green fire and shapeshifted back into his natural form. All those cool, tiny smiles were nice enough, and they could make his heart flutter like a baby pegasus’s wings, but that grin.
Oh, that grin.
He would happily bake Alto all the sweets in the world for the rest of his life if he could just have that handsome pegasus sitting in his kitchen with that lovely grin upon his muzzle. A second lifetime if he won the right to kiss it.
The cave wasn’t particularly deep. If Maple had to guess, it only extended about thirty or forty pony lengths into the side of the rock, the echo of the raging falls sounded throughout at all hours of the day. The inside was dry and cool, not so much that it was uncomfortable on any normal day, but with such a storm hanging over the forest and traveling toward the falls, the temperature had fallen just enough to make Maple long for a blanket.
Alto, on the other hoof, looked like he barely noticed. If anything, he smiled and took a deep breath. “This is like home in the spring,” he said softly. “Nice and mild at midday. A nice little break from the nights and mornings.”
“Home was that cold?” Maple asked, aghast at such a notion. Though the prospect of huddling together with Alto for warmth did wonders to bring him around to a better place.
“Altocumulous Terrace,” Alto replied with a nod. “We lived farthest from the ground and were in winter gear year ‘round. When I traveled here, I thought my lungs were going to burst because of all the humidity. But I’ve been able to manage well enough.”
More than well enough, in Maple’s opinion. He set the basket down on the cold stone ground and unfolded the blanket, then began retrieving his fares from within. Sandwiches, cupcakes, sweet breads, and more were soon spread out, along with a thermos of sweet cider and one of chilled tea.
Alto sat down beside him, close enough that warm pony coat teased against his carapace. “Oh, wow,” he said softly, eying Maple for a moment. “Did you make all of this?”
“Some of it,” Maple squeaked. “I made the sweetbreads and cupcakes. And the sandwiches. The rest was from our display case.”
“It all looks delicious.” Those golden eyes locked with his, sending a shudder through his body. Then Alto reached for a sweetbread and took a big bite. His ears twitched, that delighted grin returned to his face. “And tastes better. Thank you, Maple. This will go wonderfully with our storm viewing.”
The young Enchanter could have danced a jig. But he beat back the urge and managed to restrain himself to a small smile of his own as he picked a cupcake with periwinkle icing, nibbling at the edge. It tasted wonderfully, of course. But there was little doubt in Maple’s mind that the tiniest of sips of Alto’s love would make all sweets, even pancakes and maple syrup, pale in comparison.
A flash of light made Alto sit up stock straight. “Oh!” he cried with foal like glee, gesturing with his free hoof. “It’s starting! Look, Maple! Look!”
Maple followed his hoof as thunder shook the forest. Blue bolts arced through the sky as lightning carved through the air like a terrible, jagged sword. There was a lull in the wind, like the storm had taken a deep breath after this first strike. Then the rain fell down upon the forest like water spurting forth from a broken faucet, obscuring the scenery until it looked as though he were staring through a gray blue film. Tree branches creaked and groaned in the wind, leaves rustled and danced as they were blown away, never to stand proudly with their brethren again.
But all the while, he watched Alto out of the corner of his eye, a smile tugging at his lips as he watched his crush giggle and flutter his feathers like a nymph receiving his first drink of love from a friend.
“It’s a wild storm!” Alto all but squealed. “It’s a real, live wild storm! Untouched by pony hooves—aside from steering, of course—but manufactured entirely by the power of nature itself!” He threw back his head and let out a wild laugh that echoed throughout the cave. “Oh, this is the best thing ever!”
As he spoke, a bolt hurled down and struck a blow to the surface of the lake, spurring another bout of laughter.
Maple stayed quiet, listening to Alto’s excited chattering about each sight they witnessed. The frequency of lightning, the roar of wind, the sound of thunder and all the little details that brought it all together to create such a powerful force of nature.
Slowly but surely, they finished off their picnic as the storm began to die down. They settled in to rest quietly, enjoying the steady sound of raindrops dripping from the face of the rock and basking in the glow of sunlight filtering through the parting clouds.
Alto heaved a happy sigh. “That was beautiful,” he said softly.
“I thought you might enjoy it,” Maple replied, hunching his shoulders and shifting in place.
“Enjoy it? I loved it!” The pegasus’s eyes sparkled. He turned to face Maple fully, his chest billowing and feathers fluffing. “I just—I’d never seen anything like this! I’ve never been so happy around anypony—anyone but my family!”
His words made Maple’s heart skip a beat. It was just like Sure Stroke said!
The Enchanter ducked his head into his chest. “I … it may sound a bit silly of me to say,” he muttered, “but I feel the same. I think. I hope.”
For a moment, there was complete silence. The world around them, nature itself froze in time, as if the heavens themselves chose to stop and see what came of this moment.
Alto blinked once. Twice. The edge of his tongue lashed out to wet his lips. “I feel like … I could just …” He swallowed. “Before I met you, there was Sure Stroke. She was the only one who really got me. Ever.”
Maple dared to reach out, brushing his hoof against Alto’s shin. “I left my home with my Auntie Vigil when she started seeing Auntie Sweets.” He took a deep breath, sent a quick prayer to Morrigan and the Sainted Once, then added, “My family never understood why I was more interested in cooking than I was charming and loving ponies. When I saw my chance to leave and be happy, I came here. Pepper and Spear sort of helped me a lot. But other than them …”
He felt Alto’s hoof grip his tight. “I’ve never done this before,” Alto continued. “I don’t know how. Or even if you’ll feel the same after knowing me long enough.”
“Don’t say that. You’re wonderful. And sweet.” Gently, Maple tugged Alto’s hoof up and brought it to rest against his chest. “I’ve never done this either. And I don’t know if you could feel this way for me with what I am.”
“You’re a changeling, I’m well aware.”
“Are you? I won’t lie, Alto, I want your love in every way that means for my race. I want to hold you, kiss you, lavish you with every bit of affection I can give, and, by Morrigan’s crown, I would love to feed on you if allowed. And—” he paused to lick his lips and along the edge of his snout, noting the way Alto’s eyes followed his tongue. Oh, does he like that?
“And?” Alto prompted.
There was no backing out now. Maple drew in close, pressing his nose against Alto’s. “There’s a part of me,” he whispered, “deep down, that really wants to have you charmed. Like any Enchanter would. Not always, but … by love, I want to do it for the first time since I was a nymph, and I want to hear everything on your mind about everything. The weather, me, Respite, all of it.” He took a shuddering breath, then added, barely above a whisper, “I would never without your approval. But I just … I just want you to be mine so much.”
Alto gave a crooked smile in reply. “I don’t quite know what an Enchanter is, but I know you. And that charming business is … I’m not sure if I ever could allow it, but being yours …” He closed his eyes and turned his head, stopping just short.
He was waiting. Prompting.
The first move belonged to Maple.
He made it with an excited, nervous chitter, leaning forward to press his lips against Alto’s. His eyes fluttered shut. Oh, how he’d waited for this moment!
Those lips were far more kissable, far softer than he ever imagined.
His tongue traced along them, drawing a gasp and sudden unfurling of periwinkle wings. Grinning, Maple drew back to nuzzle Alto’s nose, chittering gaily as he felt the pegasus’s warm breath wash over his face.
Slowly, he trailed a hoof up to Alto’s chest and gently pushed him back, guiding him to lay down on the cover. His magic deftly slid empty plates and cups out of the way. “If you really want this, I should warn you what you’re in for,” he whispered huskily.
Alto, to his credit, didn’t shy away. He laid down, wrapping his forehooves around Maple’s neck and trailing his primaries against polished carapace. “What’s that?” he asked. “Warnings about feeding? Sure Stroke mentioned something about it before.”
“No.” Maple licked his nose. “Loving an Enchanter.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Oh, yes,” Maple replied as he lowered himself to rest atop his pegasus. “You, my handsome stallion, have caught the eye of an Enchanter. Which means you are about to learn the most wonderful thing about my hive.”
This time, Alto did react. A bright red blush spread across his face, reaching to the very tips of his ears. A tremor ran through his body.
Maple licked his lips slowly, savoring the way those golden eyes tracked his tongue. “No one,” he purred, drawing in for another kiss, “loves like a changeling. And no changeling loves like an Enchanter.”
Their second kiss was just as sweet than the first.
And every one after brought forth memories of that lovely, stormy afternoon which bled into evening all too soon for Respite’s newest pair of lovers.