It was supposed to be a normal, boring shift at the gate—stand at his post with his spear at the ready and his heavy golden armor gleaming in the unyielding light of Princess Celestia’s sun, check over anypony entering, and double check any carts or bags.
Or, at least, it would’ve been before the wedding. Now everypony and their grandmother was on high alert, and there could be no lazy checks. Everypony would be double and triple-checked, no exceptions.
A heavy sigh escaped Crosswind’s lips. He shifted about at his post, his pale gray eyes lingering on an elderly couple fretting as a pair of his fellow guards checked through their bags. Everything he knew told him they couldn’t possibly cause trouble. A couple that old, that close to one another? Just look at how he held her hoof and patted her wrist, whispering such sweet words to sooth her worries.
But those damnable bugs had ruined everything. Who could tell who was pony or not anymore?
“Clear,” his partner, Chinook, called. The smaller pegasus stepped back and took up his spear again, nodding to the couple. “Apologies for the trouble, but recent events have forced us to take extra precautions for the safety of everypony in Canterlot.”
Crosswind could do little more than sigh and shake his head as they passed him by, offering a half-hearted salute as his own apology. How long did the princesses plan to let this go on? Wasn’t there some spell to take care of this? Or better yet, what of the bearers?
It was hardly a secret that the call had gone out days ago. The bearers of Generosity and Laughter had already returned to the city after taking care of a little personal business of their own, the former calmly smiling as she bore her element while the latter opted to pretend she’d lost it before pulling it out from behind Chinook’s ear, of all places. Those of Honesty and Loyalty had followed shortly thereafter, with Kindness in tow. Well, really, they were coaxing her back through the gates. The poor thing.
Despite the dark cloud hovering overhead, Crosswind had to chuckle. They almost hadn’t needed to verify the elements’ glow around their necks. Chinook had looked like he wanted to drop on one knee and throw a wing over her shoulders, right up until the other two shot him warning looks.
A little bright spot to bring a sliver of happiness.
Crosswind turned his gaze forward so he could gaze down the long, winding path up Mount Canterhorn, his vision blocked about a hundred lengths out by a little drop in elevation, a hill most travelers complained jovially about as they arrived. For the guards, it gave a little bit of anticipation. Who would be next? Sometimes, when bored enough, they guards on shift would put a betting pool together on what sort of pony it would be—double if there was a pegasus in a group, walking or flying. To lighten the dour mood, they even added a stipulation for finding a changeling:
Triple the pot.
Thus far, none had been found. And, privately, Crosswind was both grateful of such and doubtful they ever would. “I’ll eat my spear if we find one of those bugs!” he once scoffed during a late night drinking session. “Ridiculous!”
So when he saw five figures crest the top of that hill, he paid them little mind save for checking to see who won the pool this time. His eyes found their horns, and his heart began to sink into his stomach. He’d bet earth pony.
Then he noticed something else. Something quite different. It wasn’t the forest green armor adorning four of their number, or the gleaming necklace and headpiece around the tallest of their group, or the coloration. Not at all. Rather, it was how the light shone off of them.
The sunlight did play upon their bodies, but with a strange gleam, as though it were reflecting off a surface as smooth as glass or marble.
Blinking, Crosswind squinted, his ears splaying as he took note of the gossamer wings upon their backs, beetle-like casing, curved horns, and gleaming fangs poking down from their lips. And their eyes …
Slitted pupils ringed by colors as dazzling and enchanting as gemstones.
“What in Celestia’s name?” Chinook breathed.
Crosswind could only nod dumbly. His very breath left him. Changelings. Actual changelings walking up to the Gates of Canterlot. In natural form, no less!
The five changelings continued onward, unfazed by the gaping guards even as they drew close and came to a stop before them. One of the changelings in black armor stepped forward and reached into her breastplate, breaking the spell.
Everypony took a step back and readied their weapons. Crosswind affixed his most dangerous snarl in warning.
The changeling didn’t so much as blink. If anything, her pale slitted eyes shone with a hint of amusement and respect. From within her breastplate, she pulled out a folded scroll. “By request of Her Royal Highnesses, Princess Celestia and Princess Luna,” she announced gravely, “Princess Twilight Sparkle of Halla Eolais comes to answer their call as diplomat from the Seekers and bearer of Magic.”
Silence fell over the gate. Crosswind felt his heart fall deep into his hooves.
“That’s not possible,” he heard himself whisper, earning a look from the lead changeling.
“I beg your pardon?” she asked.
He shook his head. “Apologies, I said that’s not possible.”
She held the parchment out for him to view. “I think you’ll find it all right here, sir. Our Princess was summoned by yours, and answers the call as requested.” Inclining her head, she offered a winning smile full of gleaming sharp teeth and wicked fangs, which only grew at the shudder he gave. “As her mother, Queen Sireadh Firinn, has for four hundred years.”
Crosswind froze in place. A changeling bore Magic on their behalf? A Queen, like the last, no less?
Four hundred years?
“Silín,” the tallest of the changelings chided. “Too much.”
The changeling he’d been speaking to, Silín, turned and bowed to her. “My apologies, Highness. I only meant to inform that we’d been invited.”
Only as they spoke did Crosswind turn to fully take note of her. More specifically, only then did he notice the glimmering headpiece of twisted silver around the crown of her head. And then his eyes found the shining gold necklace and pink gemstone in the shape of a starburst around her neck. A gemstone shining with light greater than the sun itself could provide.
Magic.
His spear fell to the ground with a clatter. Crosswind stepped back, his eyes as wide as dinner plates and blood colder than ice. “That’s … that’s …” He shook himself. “That can’t be!”
Twilight Sparkle’s slitted amethyst eyes met his, her lips tugged into a small, knowing smile. “It is,” she said, touching the gemstone with her hoof. “I am the bearer of the element of Magic.”
She stepped closer, ignoring the unease and raising of spears, and bared her neck as if to let him better inspect.
They both knew he needn’t. There were no gemstones which shone and dazzled like the elements, and none with a greater spark than Magic itself.
A changeling princess held Magic and came to Canterlot.
Her smile grew even as realization dawned upon him. “You’re welcome to tell them that I’ve come,” she said softly. “Send word that Princess Twilight Sparkle, bearer of Magic, has come to represent her hive.”
The changeling Princess took one last step closer, the difference in height plain as day as she looked down on him with amusement dancing in her eyes.
“Tell my mother’s old friends I’ve come to answer their call.”
If there was one thing about ponies that never failed to amuse Twilight, it was their strange relationship with gossip.
Oh, certainly, the academics she and her kin so adored and loved to cozy up to were more given to opening a book than engaging in idle conversation, but it was something of a private fascination she had of a group habit. A habit she found quite foolish, yet rather amusing to watch at times.
Now, especially.
She smiled and let her eyes wander over the crowd gathered on either side of the street, standing in doorways, poking their heads out of windows, leaning over the edges of balconies, even a few pegasi stopped to stand on rooftops. All so they could stare, mouths agape, at the procession of Royal Guards in their gleaming gold armor leading four changelings in black and their princess, garbed in her polished purple regalia and silver crown—and the piece which stole the breath from every pony watching.
What else but the element of Magic?
There was a small part of her that took a bit of morbid amusement in the situation—it certainly helped to take away from the little sting. Why shouldn’t they stare or gape? Why shouldn’t they worry that a changeling held such a powerful artifact, and had for centuries?
Twilight aimed a glare at the back of Silín’s green helmed head at the thought—their change in armor one of the few concessions she could cajole out of her stubborn friend. For one who could slip in and out of any building in the world, no matter how large or small or protected, she certainly didn’t fail to open her mouth at the least opportune moment. Thank the First Mother Twilight had managed to salvage that little slip and turn it into something remotely kind. Unfortunately, that little slip had consequences.
Consequences which made her ears burn.
“Did you hear? One of them said a changeling Queen held Magic for four hundred years?”
“Four centuries? No way! What about all those stories of ponies coming to help when called?”
“What do you think a changeling would do, dummy? They’d just change shape and blend in!”
“My word! For that long? Why would they help us? The rest of their kind certainly wasn’t here for that!”
Twilight tried to block out the commentary. A thousand and one denials and even a full-length lecture of her own begged to leap to the tip of her tongue, but she bit down and kept herself quiet. It wasn’t their fault.
Chrysalis had done plenty to stir up their anxieties and fears.
For the thousandth time since the news broke, Twilight could only sigh and wonder what she’d been thinking. And, more importantly, why she followed through.
But it didn’t diminish her want to give them a much-needed jolt with a few words, then some carefully-crafted education on the matter.
Only the discipline her mother instilled over twenty years kept that aloof, stately expression with tiny smile upon her face. Better to smile and let them see her as warm and caring as their own princesses than fall to such questions and let her dour mood tinge their view.
Or would smiling too much make them think she was happy to be in the place her cousins had tried to take?
These thoughts stayed with her, taunting her all the way through the city until they finally passed through the outer gates of Canterlot Castle and strode along the brick pathway leading to the front door. A path she’d taken so many times before, but with a different face. One, now, she rather wished she’d chosen to wear. But all those thoughts, all that evaporated when she saw who waited to receive her.
Two ponies. A pair of sisters, one just slightly taller, who could have looked no more like opposite sides of the same coin—one with alabaster coat and flowing rainbow mane and regalia and tiara the same color as her sun, the other midnight blue with a mane of stars and obsidian regalia and tiara crafted out of the night sky.
Princess Celestia moved first, stepping toward her just as their precession came to a stop and greeting her with a bow. “Welcome to Canterlot, Princess Twilight Sparkle,” she said, her smiling as bright and warm as a summer day.
“We thank you for making this journey on such short notice,” Princess Luna added with a bow of her own. Her teal eyes flitted toward the element around Twilight’s neck, she chuckled. “And seeing your true face outside of Halla Eolais is quite a welcome change indeed. We only wish it came under happier tidings.”
Twilight bowed her head, both out of respect and to hide the toothy smile threatening to bloom across her face. They’d always been in her life, always ready to teach and listen, whenever they visited Halla Eolais or hosted her here.
Her mother never held it against her when she dropped that stately mask and caught them in a hug the moment she laid eyes on them back home.
So, it came quite naturally to cast it all aside and do the same in theirs. Despite the startled gasps from the ponies and fond chittering of her guards.
“Thank you for calling and giving us the chance,” Twilight whispered. “I’m sorry for what my cousins did.”
A pair of gentle hooves pushed her back. The sisters fixed her with looks that spoke of pity and a hint of sternness.
“We didn’t call you to apologize for them, Twilight,” Celestia said softly. “We know you had no part in that. We know your mother would never think to allow any Seekers to take action against us, or Cadence and Shining.” Her gilded hoof cupped Twilight’s cheek, the cold metal teasing her carapace. “More importantly, they know. They’ve been looking forward to seeing you since the moment I told them I sent a letter.”
Luna, on the other hoof, favored a firm hoof upon her shoulder. “Take upon your shoulders no burden of your cousins, young friend. Their actions were their own. We wish only to ensure our ponies and your changelings may keep the peace together, and request your help.” She gave Twilight a little squeeze. “And aid any you can offer is much appreciated, even if it’s as simple as speaking to them.”
Her head bowed, Twilight offered a sad smile and leaned in to hug them again, burying her face in their shoulders. “I know,” she replied. “I know.” Her memories flashed back to those nights spent hearing Chrysalis’s words. Words which, in hindsight, which should’ve been a hint; a warning of what was to come.
But she brushed them aside as the dreams of a changeling still holding onto a few nymphish fancies whispered by her wretched mother.
She’d been wrong.
“I know,” she repeated again. “But that won’t stop me from trying.” Twilight drew back and released her embrace, a crooked smile made its way across her face. “So, about this gala … they’ll be there tonight right?”
Luna laughed. “Cadence miss a party and Shining leave his new wife’s side?” she quipped. “And either miss a chance to see you? Dear nymph, I fear if you keep up such silliness, your old aunts may just have to tickle you as we once did so many years ago.” She cast a glance at Celestia. “For diplomatic purposes, of course.”
Her brow arching, Celestia shook her head and laughed. “I would almost love to hear you try to twist yourself into making sense of that. But perhaps later.” The Princess of Day unfurled her wing and laid it across Twilight’s back. “Come along, Princess,” she said loud enough for onlookers to hear. “Allow us to give you the tour. I think you and yours will find the accommodations quite agreeable—oh! Is that little Silín Labhrais I see? My you’ve grown! I remember a time I could carry you and your dear Princess upon my back …”
Seeing her friend’s face flush out of the corner of her eye, Twilight was proud she managed to hold her mirth until after they’d closed the doors. Welcoming her like she’d never been here before—and to think some ponies thought they didn’t have a sense of humor.