Dear Small Pony Book,
Princess Cadence made good on her promise. I did not have to be brave and face whatever my hosts kept tucked inside that manilla folder for the remainder of the night.
I admit, I was not exactly at my best throughout the rest of dinner. The topics discussed unsettled me in ways I cannot aptly put to words. In ways I do not wish to describe, for reasons I would much rather allow you to keep your innocence of. That is, perhaps, not my most eloquently constructed sentence, but I find myself in a rather odd place today.
You see, the conversation did not just stop.
They didn’t pry. They didn’t corner me in the carriage, pester me when we walked back into the castle, or pull what would’ve been a trick worthy of a changeling and wait until I was relaxed and playing with Flurry to resume. Princess Cadence didn’t need to prompt me when she invited me to join her on a walk through the gardens, out to a little spot overlooking Snowfall Valley where I found myself held close beneath her wing while we sat together. Something she’d hoped would ease my pain.
They didn’t need to ask me to continue or if I felt comfortable doing so.
I simply did. In spurts, mind you. There were moments I would taste their horror or fury and recoil out of pure instinct, or where one would suddenly hold me close while I shook and tried to stop the tears rolling down my cheeks, or even understand why and when I had begun crying.
Everything just started to come out. Every horrid sneer, cutting barb, hoof across my face or fangs piercing my neck and shoulders, and night spent wishing I could change myself as I drained some pour souls dry of their love to fill my belly. All of it, until I finally worked myself to exhaustion and just fell asleep safe in that warm, feathery embrace.
That was the last thing I remembered. So, logically, I should have awakened either still in her embrace out in the garden, jarred from sleep so we might go inside, or in my room. Or just out in the garden, laying in the grass until the sun’s unrelenting warmth and light forced me to open my eyes.
As you might have inferred from my above rambling, this was not the case.
I awoke in a bed. That much, at least, was certain. Slowly, my sleep-addled mind registered that the mattress was soft, far more so than the one I slept on when I was ill, and warm. The covers thick as sheep’s wool and just as soft, though nowhere near the warm objects draped across my body, one rather soft and feathery around my midsection, the other firm and muscled like a leg around my shoulders, both drawing me back toward something rather solid.
Then I felt a pony’s soft, rounded snout turn to press against my cheek. A mare.
My eyes shot open and I was greeted by a blur of pink, purple, and creamy yellow, and in the corner of my vision a hint of snowy white.
And all around me, familiar pictures of family and friends, old awards for sports and honors, shelves stocked with books, an oaken desk with cushions of blue and pink laying by the wall, and my slumbering overlady’s crib.
All around me, the opulent interior of my hosts’ bedroom.
It was right about then I realized where I’d slept, who was holding me so protectively and lovingly, and in a place that would have previously ended with …
Pain pierced through my carapace, right where my neck and right shoulder met. I could feel her fangs, her venom burning through my veins as it worked its insidious games and rendered my muscles useless! My reaction was quite justifiable.
I screamed in utmost terror and leapt out of bed. At least, I tried. I most certainly did scream, and loud enough that Shining let out a yelp and fell right out of bed in a tangle of limbs and sheets. The sounds of his struggle to escape their confines made my earfins twitch and droop.
My face, specifically my snout, met the floor in a most unpleasant union of chitinous faceplate and fangs and crystal. Crystal floor wins that match up every time, in case you were wondering, Small Pony Book.
It is not recommended you attempt it, as I fear your spine may not take the fall well.
“Whasa—Thorax?” Princess Cadence slurred. “Whassamatter?”
Through the pain, real and traumatic, I realized my state. I’d just awoken my hosts, and was still draped half on the bed with my backside on the edge. Thinking quickly, I touched my chin to the collar of my chest plate and gave a little wiggle and pushed off the bed, rolling forward until my back hit the floor with a thwap of carapace on crystal.
I do not recommend you try that either. My backplate and wing casings, strong though they are, only spared me some of the pain.
And it certainly jolted Princess Cadence out of whatever sleep still lingered. I looked up at the ceiling for a moment before her face, framed by her long, disheveled mane, appeared over the edge of the bed, upside down thanks to my state. Her deep purple eyes met mine as she blinked and slowly tilted her head. “A nightmare?”
Heat filled my cheeks as I shook my head. “I … felt this was a place I was not meant to be at such a time. I, er, panicked. And thought back to certain things.”
I could see—and taste—comprehension dawning. “She never held you when you were frightened or upset at night?”
It was quite impossible to miss the incredulity and slight scorn in her tone. Again, I shook my head. “Seeking out comfort at night is cowardly and shows weakness in changeling nymphs,” I recited. “We stay in our pods alone.”
“I see.” Princess Cadence let a discontented grumble roll in the back of her throat. Then, she breathed a heavy sigh and brought a hoof up to rub her eyes. “That isn’t near the case in ponies. I brought you here for comfort, so you were in exactly the place you belonged.”
My hosts, as you may notice, make regular habit of trying up everything I know, stuffing it into a bag, and hurling it off a cliff. Figuratively speaking, that is.
I found I didn’t mind it one bit.
There was a curse and rustle of sheets, then clickety-clack clickety-clack of pony hooves upon the crystal floor as Shining rounded the bed, his eyes quickly darting about with all the alertness of a Royal Guard captain despite how out of sorts he looked. “What happened? Who screamed?” he demanded in a rush. Seeing me on the floor, his brows raised and posture began to relax. “Nightmare?”
“Not quite,” she replied with a shake of her head. Princess Cadence glanced just past me, offering a tired smile. “And it looks like someone else is awake and coming to check on Thorax, too.”
I heard a foalish grunt, a rattle of hooves pushing off the edge of a wooden crib and rustle as wings unfurled and flapped once to glide over to us. Flurry Heart landed upon my chest, with her favorite blanket in hoof and those baby blue eyes wide and lips tugging into a most concerned frown.
Then she began pushing her blanket against my cheek and crooning, just like her mother would when she awoke frightened by her own nightmares.
Sensible, given all she knew was that I’d fallen out of bed.
I wrapped my hooves around her in a gentle hug in silent show that I was well enough. Then, I began to sit up, shifting her slightly so I wouldn’t drop her as I rose to my hooves and moved to place her upon my back.
My overlady replied with a happy smattering of babbles and proceeded to drape the blanket around my neck and shoulders as though it were some sort of scarf. Or perhaps a stole would be more apt.
Honestly, I didn’t—and don’t—care. It was a most kind gesture.
And comfortable, too.
Her mother, meanwhile, slid out of bed with fluidic grace and ran her side along her husband’s, purring as she gave his cheek an affectionate lick. Princess Cadence let her gaze flit between each of us and stifled a yawn. “Let’s get ready for breakfast then,” she said. “Then we can have that talk, Thorax.”
My earfins flicked. “The one about the folder?”
“And everything inside it as well,” she quipped playfully. “Why don’t you take that little troublemaker on one of your little adventures while we get ready? Say, thirty minutes to sneak into the kitchen and get her oatmeal ready?”
I smiled. This, at least, was familiar. This, I could do.
It might surprise Princess Twilight, Spike, and their friends in Ponyville that my overlady could be quite stealthy and silent when the situation called for it. Not that I don’t understand and sympathize—if you are reading this at some point in time later in your life, Flurry, please understand that you could be quite … well, let us just say you knew how to get attention—but she took our sneaking very seriously.
Especially with her parents’ blessing.
Even more especially when it meant a trip to the kitchens.
Who could possibly blame her, though? The sights of cooks bustling around, the sounds of stoves burning, water boiling, and steam hissing, the lovely scent of bread in the oven, and of course the ever-elusive cookie jar.
One day, we shall find it. Princess Cadence’s hiding spot would be found someday. Then, we would taste paradise.*
Until then, however, oatmeal was our goal. Along with a bit of cinnamon if I could filch it before a certain baker needed it for whatever treat she’d deliver for tea. Something to give Princess Cadence a much-needed pick-me-up during the day, or so she claimed.
My right hoof stung in phantom pain from a well-placed wooden spoon across my wrist the last time I’d attempted to sneak a taste for myself.
As one of the cooks went scurrying into the kitchen with a stack of plates balanced precariously upon her back and Flurry and I slipped through the open door behind her, I wondered if Cinnamon Swirl might be a distant relative of A la Carte. Very distant.
Then again, there are plenty of examples of ponies of differing sorts within the same family, so perhaps I shouldn’t assume so much.
Anyway. Our mission. A most critical endeavor, quite possibly the most critical of all.
A lack of proper nutrition, after all, could stunt poor Flurry’s growth. If she could not count on her favored changeling to ensure that she eat properly (with snacks snuck here and there to ensure she learn proper sneaking techniques)**, well, then what good even was I?
Flurry and I worked together flawlessly. I would creep along low to the ground, my hooves so silent I should be the envy of every mouse who ever tried to sneak through an alley full of cats. I widened my eyes to their fullest so I could take in every detail of my surroundings, swiveling my head this way and that to ensure I knew where each cook or staffpony was before I made a move. For her part, Flurry ensured none were able to counter-sneak up on us by minding my flank.
The strategic one, I mean. Shining insisted I clarify that once he finished cleaning up the soda he spat out as I read aloud. I suppose I can understand why, though I did note this is more a function of pony anatomy and military terminology being rather annoyingly similar.
He then strenuously insisted I should move on.
I poked my head around the corner and quickly withdrew it as I saw her pacing between the different stations. Her coat was unmistakable, tan flecked with splotches of chestnut brown, the same as her mane. Keen eyes the very color of verdant leaves surveyed each dish and her nostrils flared to take in the scents as if that alone would reveal what was amiss.
Cinnamon Swirl’s tail flicked and brow furrowed, I could tell in that instant there was no doubt whatever she’d seen or scented had indeed revealed some grave error. And her rigid posture as she strode off to find the offender only served to confirm it.
A pity for whomever had drawn her ire, but they had probably earned it. Cinnamon Swirl was nothing if not fair.
Plus, it made the task of creeping over to the cupboard to retrieve oats and cinnamon (ha!) from the top shelf, then snatching a bowl from the nearby rack, a pan from its spot hanging from one of the hooks over the stove, and finally slinking over to the cooler to get the milk jug. I set my ill-gotten gains and Flurry down upon the counter so I could prepare her meal.
Worry not, Small Pony Book, I made certain to place her well away from the stove, though I’m certain someday she will appreciate your concern. Also, Flurry has had the misfortune of learning the “do not touch hot things” lesson previously, and remembers it well enough to keep an eye upon the burner I switched on as if she feared it might lunge at her.
I’m almost certain burners can’t do that, but that doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate the way she whined and ruffled her feathers like she wishes to drag me away from it when I began preparing her meal. Never mind the fact that she can quite easily do so with magic.
I hadn’t prepared oatmeal for Flurry since that unfortunate encounter in my first entry, but the steps were not lost to me. They were simple enough—pour a small, but reasonable amount of oats into the pan, add milk, place pan upon hot stove, stir or swirl a bit with that nimble wrist-flicking motion I’d seen Cinnamon, Shining, and Cadence perform, then remove and transfer to the bowl when ready, and, finally, add cinnamon for flavor.
Hopefully, this time wouldn’t end up splattered all over my faceplate.
The milk gurgled as tiny bubbles began to form. I could smell the scent of oats and milk filling the air, and allowed myself a little smile. After another minute, I took the pan by the handle and removed it from the burner—earning a happy croon and relaxing of feathers from my rather relieved overlady—so I could dump it all into the bowl and finish up with a liberal sprinkling of cinnamon.
This was the one point where I had to resist and refute Flurry’s attempts to garner more. As well as that where her grasp of stealth always failed. She squealed and flapped her wings, kicked her hind hooves as she clapped and called, “More cinna! Tora, more cinna!”
I stopped shaking right about the point her mother always did—in short, not nearly enough for her liking. “No, Flurry, this is enough,” I refused.
Flurry puffed her cheeks. “Yes, more!” Sparks of baby blue flickered around her horn. She was trying to cast.
It was time to move before she accidentally blew something up.
I deftly moved the cinnamon just out of sight and placed Flurry upon my back again. Then, I levitated the bowl of oatmeal and a spoon into view so her attention might be occupied elsewhere. Cinnamon could take my failure to replace the cinnamon back into the pantry as ordered “countless times” (I count four, but who am I to question how high she can reach) up with me at a later time.
I thought we’d succeeded. I thought, this time, that I’d managed to enter the fearsome cook’s dominion and escape undetected despite my overlady’s jubilant cries.
Then, just as I made to slink through the doorway to complete our mission, I heard that familiar ahem from just over my shoulder. My earfins twitched and splayed.
Flurry confirmed my fears with a delighted giggle and call of, “Cinna Swir! Cinna Swir!”
Crack my carapace, Small Pony Book, I literally had a hoof out the door!
I affixed a wooden smile to my face, a touch too wide to be a pony’s, upon reflection, and turned slowly to face my doom.
That my smile nearly faltered when I took note of the stern green eyes boring into my very soul, unfaltering even in the face of Flurry Heart’s demand for a hug, meant nothing. I held strong, even my hind hooves itched to take a step or two back.
“Good morning, Cinnamon Swirl,” I greeted politely.
“Don’t you ‘good morning, Cinnamon Swirl’ me, Thorax,” she huffed. Her tail flicked through the air with a sharp snap. “I’ve told you to ask countless times, but you still insist on sneaking in!”
See? Countless times. I count twenty-seven. That is, by definition, not countless.
Besides, I had every reason to sneak this time. So, my too-wide-to-possibly-be-pony smile broadened to show the rest of my teeth, an act which drew just a hint of a wince. Unsettling to ponies, that much I knew, but I had not been told not to smile so as Shining Armor ordered me not to turn my head.
“I insisted upon nothing this time,” I corrected. “My sneaking comes as a result of orders from Princess Cadence herself. Her Highness tasked Flurry and I with a secret mission to sneak into your kitchen and make oatmeal.” With a meaningful nod to the bowl, I added, “My efforts were not in vain.”
A dissatisfied grumble rolled in the back of her throat. Again, Cinnamon flicked her tail, but she knew as well as I that Princess Cadence’s word superseded all.
Cinnamon Swirl blew a frustrated breath through her nose. “From now on, check in with me so you don’t run into somepony on my staff and cause a mess.”
Acceptable. I nodded once. “I shall, but I shall still sneak otherwise.”
“Fine. Whatever.” She turned and made to trot away, pausing just long enough to turn over her shoulder to nuzzle Flurry and give a little croon. “Oh, and after you feed this little cutie, you can come back and clean up your mess. And wash those dishes you used.”
My smile vanished as she fixed me with a decidedly smug smirk and flicked her tail across my nose. As she sauntered over to deal with the rest of her subjects, I aimed a challenging glare at the back of her head.
Changelings did not wash dishes!
The very nerve. I would do no such thing. Never.***
I made sure to blow a raspberry as only a changeling could—the full length of my forked, serpentine tongue came quite in handy.
That I waited until I was well out of earshot is irrelevant and I’ll thank you not to comment on it.
It is to my unending delight that I can report my overlady did not see fit to bathe me in hot oatmeal this morning.
No, she must have found my carapace quite well-polished (how nice of her to notice) and deign that I had done a suitable job cleaning myself this morning. Or she was simply too happy to make a mess of herself in her zeal to consume all of her delicious cinnamon-oatmeal as fast as she could.
Honestly, I think it’s the latter, but I will withhold judgement until she decides to voice her thoughts in plain Equish.
Until then, I would just guess. And by my guess and the untold amount of oatmeal now covering her face and belly—no, seriously, I swear I didn’t make that much—she quite enjoyed her meal, even as I busied myself cleaning her. She giggled and hugged my hoof, dirtying my chitinous limb and spreading oatmeal even into my leg holes.
It was that sight which greeted my hosts and Sunburst entered the dining room together, with Princess Cadence all but prancing in the lead.
Gone was the visage of sleepy mare with mussed coat and disheveled mane, making way for the beautiful Princess of Love in all her radiance. With a smile as warm as midsummer and sweet as those snickerdoodle cookies I’d shared with Princess Luna, she planted a kiss upon Flurry’s oatmeal spattered snout and brushed it away before turning to beam at me. She wrapped a hoof around my shoulders, pressing her cheek to mine in such a familiar manner I cannot deny the heat which rose in my face or that treacherous thought from dinner the night prior.
“Thank you, Thorax. You’re a big help as always.”
I gave my wings a happy buzzing trill. Such praise for following orders properly stirred a swell of pride within my breast.
Such praise was quite rare previously. It is most gratifying to know I can perform my duties adequately enough for my rulers. Enough so that Shining gave my headfin what he called a “tussel”.
Sunburst, meanwhile, just laughed as he took stock of Flurry. “And it looks like I’ll be giving this little one her first bath of the day.” He aimed a wry smirk my way, full of good-natured teasing. “You can sneak through a castle, but somehow you leave me to clean up the mess?”
I adopted my most innocent smile and tilted my head. “I was not ordered to keep her clean. Elsewise, I would have.”
“Mmm, convenient.” His horn flashed a shimmering gold as he reached out with a tendril of magic to gently lift the giggling, babbling babe from her high chair and earn himself a sudden case of Flurry-latching-onto-face. Sunburst snorted and trotted out of the dining room.
And at that moment, Cinnamon Swirl and a younger mare by the name of Orange Blossom entered, each floating trays and metal top out, and set them atop the table for each of us.
Cinnamon’s eyes met mine for an instant, she raised her brows meaningfully, then turned to give a nod to Princess Cadence. Receiving her reply and an affirming hum, the master of the kitchens swept away with her young apprentice and left us alone.
We each took our regular seats and began to eat. Cinnamon had apparently decided today was a sliced fruits and a crepes.
I licked my lips. I rather love crepes. They are sweet, fruity, and are most certainly comprised of sugar and love and nothing more.
Fortunately, my hosts did not seem to mind the vigor with which I set upon my delicious, creamy bounty. The taste of fresh strawberries only served to further my delight, even as the cool juice dribbled down my chin.
A little cough and raise of one of Princess Cadence’s brows was all the prompting needed to remind me that, though they were generous enough to tolerate me “wolfing” my food down, such things like letting it make a mess all over my face were considered quite rude in pony society.
Napkins are quite useful in the art of lowering that brow, Small Pony Book. And cleaning messes as well.
“How did you sleep?” Princess Cadence asked me suddenly.
I blinked. “I do not recall dreaming. I barely even remember when I actually fell asleep.” After a second, I ducked my head. Heat filled my cheeks once more. “I’m sorry I fell asleep against you last night.”
“No need to apologize, Thorax. I didn’t mind at all.” Her smile chased away my doubts in an instant. Such was her magic. “I’m just glad you felt comfortable enough to talk with us afterward, even though it was hard on you.”
Hard, perhaps, was not the word to describe how I felt. But I was hardly one to correct her on something so trivial.
“In any case,” Shining took up her cause, “it’s … well, what you went through isn’t fine. But what you’re dealing with now as we work through it is.”
“That makes no sense,” I said simply.
“How doesn’t it?”
“How can it be not fine that I was abused but fine that I’m hurting and de—” the way his jaw set as I began to say the word forced me to alter course ”—unwell?”
Shining idly raised a coffee mug and let it hover a few inches off the table. “You’ve faced things as they’ve come and as you’ve been ready, and you’ve been receptive of our advice to stop selling yourself short or demeaning yourself.” He paused to take a sip. “To a degree.”
My heart sank. “My lack of progress has displeased you then?” I asked.
“That’s … not at all how I meant that, but I can see why you might take it that way.” He frowned, setting his mug down on the table as he folded his hooves. “Thorax, can I tell you something I’ve noticed about the way you think?”
“I do not see why that is relevant, but if you think it is.”
“It’s entirely relevant. Because as odd as some of your logical progressions are and as odd as those Cady and I go through might seem to you, there’s a meeting point or two. A bit of a root of things.” Shining’s smile slowly returned. “How about we demonstrate with a couple questions? Like your learning days.”
That seemed very unlikely. Impossible, even.
Then again, my living situation did as well a few short months prior. I nodded despite my uncertainty, eager to hear just what he knew that I had missed.
“Do you have siblings?”
“My brother Pharynx, yes. He is … like mother in his temperament, though not quite as interested in conquest.”
“He would hit you then? Following her example?”
I fidgeted in place, a keening groan crept from the back of my throat. But all the same, I nodded again.
Princess Cadence seemed quite displeased at the news that he’d hit me, but it was she who asked, “And if he found something attacking you? What might Pharynx do?”
Several memories came to mind. All quite graphic, all very gruesome. Pharynx snarling, his fangs dripping with blood and venom, his eyes glowing green and chest heaving as he stood over a molebear that had cornered me. Another, Pharynx standing over a pair of gryphon warriors, their heads turned in unnatural ways. Another still. A siren, of all things, dead at his hooves. Her throat torn out and still in his mouth.
The way he would turn and spit out their blood as if it wasn’t worth being savored, then how slowly he would approach and tilt my chin up with his hoof so he could look into my eyes. That little nod and breath he would always release, and just the slightest hint of warmth in his smile.
Right before he smacked me for being weak and dragged me over to feed on their love before it flickered out.
“Terrible things,” I admitted. “He did terrible things when I was in danger. Even our fellow changelings weren’t safe—he’d throw them around like they weighed nothing.”
They hummed in thought. Then, Princess Cadence actually chuckled to herself. “You know, Twilight nearly did the same to me during the wedding.”
What? I drew back. This was … simply implausible. Princess Twilight loved them both. Small Pony Book, please don’t take this as an insult, but you simply don’t understand how much I could taste it.
The only loves stronger was that shared between my hosts, that they held for Flurry Heart, and the Sisters’ for their subjects.
Bar none.
“She thought I was your mother,” she continued. “She attacked me, ready to hurt me beyond belief for what she thought I’d done before I proved who I really was. But in that moment, she shared something with Pharynx.”
Perhaps.
But perhaps not. Princess Twilight was not like Pharynx.
I love my brother, but I cannot deny who he is.
“Now what about you?” Shining continued.
“Me?” I tilted my head.
“You. What is it you want? What is it that drives you?”
He knew the dream. Shining had read it and made it quite clear that I had his full support, and alluded to having some way to see it through.
But what drove me personally? That was …
A surprisingly simple answer.
I rubbed my shin and squirmed in my seat. “To not be hungry all the time,” I admitted. “To go to bed somewhere warm and know I’m with someone who cares. To have friends who care how I feel and want to be with me for me, and want to be with them.”
It all seemed simple. All I wanted was the life my hosts had together. The same Princess Twilight and Spike had with their friends.
Maybe without the world saving, though.
“And perhaps a friend who might be willing to let you feed?” Princess Cadence supplied in her playful drawl.
“It … would be rather helpful to the relationship.”
“Yes, it probably would.” His smile only broadened. “Thorax, you realize basically just said you want the same sort of things everypony does.”
I raised a hoof and countered, “But I also want to eat love and ponies do not.”
“True, but there’s something else.” Shining arched a brow. “Thorax, think of someone hurting Flurry.”
Something within me just … broke. That is the best description I have.
There was no thought. There was no reason. I don’t recall exactly when I rose or let my face change, when my fangs lengthened to their fullest or eyes glowed like burning emerald fire as my face narrowed to that ghoulish, venom dripping look which so haunted ponies’ nightmares.
I don’t remember thinking to do it.
I didn’t realize I had until I hissed and vowed, “No.”
The look in Shining’s eyes told of knowing and a hint of something else. I could taste conflicting feelings. Pride and remorse.
Why though?
“Exactly. And between you and me, yeah.” A flicker of pink sparked at the tip of his horn. “There wouldn’t be much I wouldn’t break to protect my own.”
Princess Cadence coughed into her hoof. “I think we’re getting a bit off track, honey.”
“Right, right. Sorry.” He gave a sheepish smile. “Anyway, do you see kind of what I’m getting at here? You’re different, but you’re not nearly as far away as some might have thought. Even us at first.”
There was some truth to that, I must admit. The swell of rage I felt at the mere thought of harm coming to Flurry, or any of them for that matter, was reminiscent of what she had tried to engrain in each of us toward ponies. Perhaps more apt would be to say it was the same I’d always seen in my brother.
By the First Mother, my stomach churned at the thought. I in my brother’s place, Flurry in mine. Even without the subsequent strike to the back of the head or feast of love, I just couldn’t imagine letting her see me in such a rage.
Oh. And yes. There was more than a little truth about what I so wanted.
It just tended to be a little difficult to admit sometimes, even if they and Princess Luna said it wasn’t so foolish or out of sight.
“It’s probably something I could infer, but I think it best I ask.” Princess Cadence’s horn flashed, that manilla folder popped into existence again, “How often did you spend time with nymphs your age? Outside of whatever education or training you had.”
The way I winced betrayed me. I did everything I possibly could to avoid my peers. Not to say I did not care for them at all, but they could be rather aggressive and combative. Especially after training.
Education? Training was our education. We needed no other informative structure.
She nodded and sighed. “I see. Unfortunately, that’s about what we thought.” The sound of tinkling bells filled the air, Princess Cadence opened the manilla folder to reveal a small stack of papers and began to rifle through them.
I recognized some immediately. Those little quizzes she had me take, a few written notes she’d scribbled down during my lessons or about some of my notions of how things worked—I noted a rather fond smile when she came across “Thorax was told today putting Flurry down for her nap didn’t mean cocooning and hanging her from the ceiling, no matter how she giggles.”
“Do you remember why I said I wanted to test you, Thorax?” she asked.
“You wished to know what I did and didn’t,” I replied easily. “And also wished to understand how I saw things compared to how you all did.”
“Exactly.” Her eyes softened. “In your last entry, you mentioned you were about fourteen. Is that right?”
A simple enough question. “Yes.” If not for the nature of our species and theirs, I might have felt proud as I added, “Hunting and tricking since nine.”
Here, Shining spoke up again, “Please understand, this isn’t a shot at you personally, because this is something well out of your control. You’re bright in a lot of things—really on the nose with things like math and certain things in chemistry or biology.”
“I do not know much history at all,” I admitted with a rueful smile.
That earned a laugh from each. “Yes, well, we don’t know changeling history either, so it’s not like we could expect that. Buddy,” Shining teased. “But yes, you’re lagging in others compared to foals your age. Especially in the more social aspects.”
“And there’s some things we can’t teach or provide to you, because of the time it would take and, well …” The little shrug Princess Cadence gave was like she’d been caught trying to pass off sub par work. “I can tell you what you can and can’t do when socializing, but that doesn’t help you actually interact beyond those specific rules when the time comes. Do you understand?”
Blinking, I tilted my head to the opposite side, but I remembered not to rotate all the way. See? They teach very well.
“I honestly couldn’t begin to understand what that means, Princess.”
Again, she laughed. “Yeah, it’s not a logical thing at all when you try to actually put it to words. But it and some of these knowledge gaps have led us to consider something a bit more logical.”
She shifted her notes and my quizzes to the side to reveal a new form. It looked less like my hosts’s notes and more like official forms. I saw signatures, dates, initials, and a few empty spots where a name and another signature were meant to go. But I found myself drawn more to the words in big bold lettering written across the very top:
Crystal Hearth Preparatory School Admissions Form
“What do schools have to admit besides that they teach?” I asked.
“Wrong sort of admit, buddy,” Shining said.
“Ah.” That was silly of me. I knew that one. “This is a form ponies fill out so they may go to school then?”
“Well, yes,” he replied. His ear flicked, he began to trace a slow circle upon the tabletop. “But we talked to the administrators and a few teachers, and we were thinking it might be filled out to admit a changeling nymph this time.”
I confess, the point sailed straight over my headfin, as evident in how I asked, “Which one?”
They stared.
The wheels in my head began to turn slowly. And with each turn as comprehension began to dawn upon me, my slime glands began to fill my mouth, ready to subdue the threat.
Logically, yes, I was quite aware spitting slime on the form would do nothing but earn a lecture.
“Why?” I cursed the way my voice broke.
“We can’t teach you everything,” Princess Cadence repeated. “And, frankly, if you want to ever have more friends like us, Twilight, Spike, and the others, friends more your age, you’re going to have to get out of the castle and socialize.” She rustled her wings, I could taste both resolve and just a hint of nerves. “Who knows? You might even get some pretty filly or handsome colt who thinks you’re cute, too.”
With a snort, Shining gave her a little nudge. “Putting the cart before the pony a bit, honey. Let the poor colt at least make some friends before you play matchmaker.”
She mumbled something I couldn’t quite catch under her breath. Whatever it was, it made Shining laugh and kiss her cheek.
“In any case,” Shining continued, “this is something we’ve sort of been thinking about in regard to your education for some time. And that note about your dream, I meant it when I said I thought I had a way to see it happen.” He nodded toward that wicked form. “This is our suggestion.”
Their suggestion?
Every instinct, every bit of changeling heritage hissed and spat in outrage. By every account, this wasn’t a suggestion.
It was a fool’s errand.
A changeling didn’t simply go somewhere out of their disguise. Part of the reason I begged so much that I be allowed to maintain my Crystal Hoof disguise was to spare myself the heartache and pain my mother swore we would each suffer should we ever try to seek companionship with ponies.
And yet, there were a few which sprang to mind. And more who, despite the nerves I tasted as I first passed them by, showed up to a party and were kind enough to me.
The entirety of a little town nestled between the Valley of Mount Canterhorn and the shadow of the Everfree Forest. At the forefront, seven smiling mares, a bunch of beaming foals headed by those mischievous fillies, and Spike.
Spike.
Spike and I had our issues once. But he did not bring heartache and pain alone. He brought sincerity and caring from his world to mine, and convinced others to offer the same.
My mother had been wrong.
The same mother who abused me and vowed that ponies could never accept us, and that they were beneath us to even bother caring for other than food or idle amusement.
I swallowed that mouthful of slime and rose. “I would like to think about this,” I muttered.
They smiled, but I could taste the bitter regret in their hearts. They’d seen how it tormented me.
Curse my failure at hiding.
“Take a couple days, buddy,” Shining replied softly. “I won’t rush you, but the school doesn’t want you to dally too long in case you get too far behind.”
“At very least, thank you for listening and being brave for us again.” Princess Cadence rose and moved around the table to give me a gentle hug and nuzzled my headfin. “I think, after so much bravery, my favorite changeling is due for a meal of love today. Lunch on me for a smile?” she offered.
I managed an admittedly weak smile, my nerves and warring instincts and desires warred with one another. The promise of love was a lovely gesture.
But it did not distract me quite well enough. Though, I did lean into her embrace to show my appreciation and affection.
Before I could leave, however, Princess Cadence’s ears twitched and she raised a hoof. “I just remembered, Cinnamon mentioned something about a little mess you’d left in her kitchen?” she asked, her brow arching.
My ears splayed. “Just a small one.”
“Well, before you go off to think, you can go down and give her a hoof cleaning it up. And she’d like me to remind you that she’s the one who decides how food will taste when it reaches your tongue, so blowing a raspberry at her before you eat is quite unwise.” With a wink, she added, “But far be it from me to interrupt the games you two play.”
I could only curse in old changeling and make my way to the kitchen. A changeling cleaning dishes. Nonsense.
I might just let Pharynx hit me if he ever learned of this.
* I shall see you try. - Cadence.
** You’re teaching her what? Excuse me, young colt, you might have a high tolerance for sugar, but if you get Flurry hopped up on sweets, I’ll make sure you’re the one who deals with her through the night. And I’ll make sure Auntie Tia and Auntie Luna know you’re stealing their right to spoil their great-niece!
*** Never? Huh, that’s funny. Seemed a lot like nine-thirty this morning to me, buddy. Cinnamon even told me if you made a habit of cleaning things like that, she’d have to demand a changeling dishwasher when we discussed her contract renewal. - Shining.