//------------------------------// // 7. The Princess's Debut // Story: The Face of Magic // by Carapace //------------------------------// Twilight Sparkle wasn’t so new to splendorous parties and galas that she should have those pre-appearance jitters. There had been so many over the years—whether it was a visit during the Summer Sun Celebration or the Winter Solstice Gala, an invitation to Cadence’s annual Hearts and Hooves Day Soirée d’Amour, or even the Grand Galloping Gala, she had appeared in dress and danced and mingled and weaved her way through Equestria’s upper crust many times in her twenty years. But never naked. Or, rather, never in this form. With this face. Slitted purple pupils in the mirror stared back at her. Her mulberry carapace had been cleaned and polished so light shone off her body, her mane had been brushed to perfection, free of any tangles and staying locks until Silín nodded, satisfied with her work. Then, lighting her horn with a verdant glow, she gathered Twilight’s shimmering locks in her magic and weaved them into tight braided circlets around the crown of her head, like she were making a seat for the crown to rest. Changeling culture older than memory. “I can’t remember the last time we sat like this,” Silín said softly, breaking the heavy silence at last. “Not since before I chose to join the Black Helmets, at least. Before you became a Researcher and Teacher.” Twilight smiled. “Five years, at least,” she replied, bowing her head. “I remember that night well. It was the last time we were all together before you joined—” she caught herself, her eyes flitting about as if she expected a pony to jump out of a crack in the wall, then cleared her throat. “We were all there.” “Princess Cadence and Captain Armor as well—Lieutenant, at the time,” her old friend noted. “How time does fly.” “Yes.” Sighing, Twilight shook her head. “I wish we could go back to those days. Simpler times. Less stress, still able to walk around like normal.” “Hidden behind your usual guise, you mean.” “Yes.” Silín hummed a low note in reply. “Why didn’t you, then?” Another sigh escaped her lips. Twilight stayed silent another moment, her eyes flitting around the lavish guest room Celestia and Luna always kept waiting for her. A permanent room, open whenever she should like to visit. Plush purple pillows, soft blue walls and drapes, a high window which let sunlight and moonlight bathe the room, and a bed softer than cloud fluff, or so Celestia swore. And yet, she never would name their maker, no matter what deals Twilight or her parents might try to offer. “If I told you,” Celestia never failed to say, those ancient eyes twinkling with mirth, “I might see less of you, my dear.” And, in her disguise, the little nymph princess would puff her cheeks and flick her tail, then try to pretend she wasn’t devising her next attempt to glean the information from those pesky Eternal Sisters with her trusty sidekicks, Cadence and Shining Armor—magnanimously forgiving the pair’s poorly hidden snickering. Oh, how she missed those days. And how she hated the feeling in her chest, that cold, icy claw clutching her heart and filling her to the brim with anxiety. Would they still look at her the same way? Twilight banished those thoughts to the back of her mind. “I told you back in Halla Eolais,” she replied. “Chrysalis didn’t leave us a choice.” “No. I suppose she didn’t.” Sighing, Silín paused a moment in thought. Twilight could see a tiny smile playing upon her lips in the mirror. “You look lovely with your mane braided.” “Only because you have the patience I lack to do them properly,” Twilight retorted. “Yes, well, I take it upon myself to speak for all Seekers in saying that I think wearing your mane in the more traditional style would be most welcome. Innovation with respect to our history, just like the changeling herself.” The Princess of the Seekers couldn’t help but smile despite her nerves. “My mother would be right there with you, arguing along,” she said softly. Then, with a sigh, she added, “And I think if you said so in front of our hosts, they’d agree. Especially Ca—” She stopped just short, unable to finish the name. That cold claw tightened its grip upon her heart. Hearing Celestia and Luna assure her no ill-will or grudge was held against herself or the hive was one thing. More importantly, though, was how she was received. Would things be the same? The claw gripping her heart had a voice. It whispered in her ear and wove a nightmarish scene—Cadence recoiling in terror, Shining freezing up, his eyes wide and chest heaving as Celestia and Luna struggled to try to bring them out of it, then had to gently ask the Princess of the Seekers if she would mind excusing herself from the festivities. A gentle, chitinous hoof touched her shoulder. “Breathe, Princess,” Silín murmured soothingly. “You taste of nerves and fear. Breathe, let it wash off you like the rolling tides.” Like the rolling tides. The left corner of  her mouth twitched. “Cadence used to say that when I was little,” Twilight whispered. “Yes. I remember as well.” Silín’s hoof squeezed as the other wrapped around in a loose embrace. She could feel her faithful guard and friend lean in to nuzzle her cheek. “Be strong, Twilight. For all of us, and them. And yourself, most of all. Don’t let fear stay your hooves before you can speak with them.” That drew a snort. “You sound like your mother.” “It’s similar to what she said to me the day I began my training.” Smiling, Silín levitated Twilight’s silver-wrought crown and purple regalia into view, along with the golden necklace and blazing amethyst gemstone. “And what she wished me to pass along to our beautiful, wise Princess Twilight before she made her grand debut this evening.” Twilight couldn’t help but laugh and tilt her head back to lay against her shoulder. “And you waited until now to tell me,” she whispered. “I can’t decide if you’re the worst or best changeling I know.” “I prefer to think of it as waiting for the opportune moment. Now, hold still, Princess.” She felt the static buzz of magic tease her carapace as Silín hovered her polished purple necklace near. “Tonight is your big night, and I won’t allow you to look anything less than resplendent.” The smile spread across her face. Twilight gave a low, approving purr and sat up straight, closing her eyes while she allowed her fellow changeling to finish her work. Yes, tonight was a big night indeed. But not just for her. She drew in a deep breath and held it in her chest. Tonight could very well be the most important night since her mother stole Magic from under House Shimmer’s noses. Slowly, she let it out in a heavy sigh. No turning back now, Twilight mused. Let’s see how the die comes up this time. Her hooves had trodden the corridors of Canterlot Castle countless times before, and likely would countless thereafter. Still, no matter how many times Twilight walked through those hallowed halls, she found her eyes flitting about, trying to take it all in at once like a greedy nymph sneaking into a sweets shop for the first time. And truly, who could blame her? While the Seekers might boast the finest library in any land—enough to draw even Star Swirl the Bearded and two young mares, future princesses of Equestria, to seek out Twilight’s grandmother and bow their heads as they asked permission to study in their sanctuary of learning—it was the changelings who bowed to the Eternal Sisters and the ponies they so lovingly guided when it came to the arts. From the magnificent stained glass windows, glittering in the flickering torchlight to the polished stone busts and the paintings lining the corridors, there was enough to make any changeling new to Canterlot want to stop and stare for hours on end. Even her own parents confessed their marvel each time they made the trip. It was all a welcome distraction from the stares of every pony present—guest, guard, and palace staffspony alike—as she came down the grand staircase from the dignitaries’ apartments, flanked by her four changeling guards, and set hoof on the soft, red carpet rolled out for the occasion. Twilight took but a single step toward them. The line of ponies in their fancy dresses and suit jackets scampered back, their eyes wide and ears splayed as they took in the sight of the changeling princess garbed in a soft blue dress which stopped just above her ankles. Silence reigned over the foyer, yet Twilight found herself choking as the foul taste of rotting fish filled her mouth with an unpleasant, running sensation like bad slime. Fear. Which meant the hushed whispers and gossip would resume just as soon as she turned the corner to stride toward the herald, then passed through the doors into the Grand Ballroom. It had already begun. Some more cruel, more unkind than the shock from those lining the streets and rooftops upon her arrival.  A bevy of emotions swirled and mixed together like a whirlpool trying to draw her deep and drown her in an ocean of disgust, distrust, revulsion, and, yes, still that sense of fear. But through it all, she kept her small smile in place. She was the Princess of the Seekers, the Bearer of Magic, and diplomat of her hive to Equestria. Twilight could bear their stares, their fear, and hate. All for her kin. And while several whispered such insidious, terrible slights which made her blood boil and scream for her to stop and speak up, to match their venom with her own, she beat back the urge. There would be time to teach lessons. There always was. A Seeker’s lessons didn’t just stay in the classroom, after all. With a winning smile full of fangs and sharpened incisors, Twilight turned to stride toward the herald and a pair of guards in gleaming gold and obsidian armor, stopping just before them. Then, without looking back, she waved her hoof to prompt Silín. “Her Royal Highness, Twilight Sparkle, Princess of the Seekers of Knowledge hive of changelings,” Silín announced, presenting the herald with the summons letter. “Attending on personal invitation from Princesses Celestia and Luna. You’ll find the details there.” The herald, to his credit, didn’t stare. Perhaps he’d seen stranger guests appear on such a stage. His brows did raise and nearly disappear beneath his silver bangs as his old eyes flitted about and scanned Princess Celestia’s immaculate, elegant cursive across the page, but were then quickly schooled into place. He bowed low, then turned on his hooves and strode into the ballroom full of ponies milling and mingling about in clusters. Like their own little hive. Without a hint of hesitation or scorn in tone or posture, he brought a hoof to his chest and called out, “Presenting Twilight Sparkle, Princess of the Seekers of Knowledge hive of changelings, Royal Diplomat to Equestria, and Bearer of Magic!” The dull roar of conversation died a swift death as Twilight stepped through the doorway with her guards, her head held high and glittering regalia shimmering in the light. She could feel their eyes upon her, taking in everything as if to be sure that, yes, she was indeed a changeling walking so brazenly into their midst. Then their ears twitched, their brains catching up to that all-important last bit of his introduction. And so a sea of bright, colorful pony eyes did trail from her face, to her fangs, to the glimmering amethyst around her neck, and then came the huddling and whispering. This time, Twilight was well prepared to keep appearances. Her stately smile in place, she tossed her tricolored tresses over her shoulder  and continued her walk with her head high, nodding her thanks to the herald as she passed. She strode forth, her tail swishing despite how her heart hammered in her chest, and made her way toward the center of the ballroom, where the gala’s hosts awaited her with welcoming smiles. All around her, ponies took a step or two back to grant her a wide berth—certainly wider than dictated by any sense of manners or propriety. The usual hiss of whispering filled the air, tickling her ears. She caught little snippets here and there, each more disconcerting or hurtful than the last. Monster, some said. Disgusting creatures, thinking they can walk in here after what their kind did! Here to boast, said others. Why else would she come bearing Magic, claiming to be the one who wields it? Why would a changeling be chosen to protect ponies? Changelings feed upon ponies. They don’t protect or help! That one in particular nearly drew a scowl. It was a lie. In part, at least. The Seekers and Equestria had long enjoyed an alliance, one which served to protect both races, kept the peace of the southern border to any pony who wished to travel, and afforded her kin the right to enter and act in symbiosis with the ponies. But she couldn’t blame them. The pact had been made in secret ages ago. And after Chrysalis, they had every right to wonder. Insulting, on the other hoof … “Ugh! What a travesty!” Her ears flicked at the sound of a new voice. Musical, cultured, with a hint of a Canterlot accent, as if one were trying a bit too hard to imitate its dulcet lit. “Just dreadful! Why in Equestria would the princesses invite one of those things after what happened at the wedding?” Her blood boiled. Things? Twilight’s smile took on a deadly edge, enough that a group of nearby mares squeaked and took a few more steps back as she let her slitted eyes flit about to find the charmer who insulted her kin so brazenly. Not even the decency to keep it to a cowardly little whisper, open incredulity and scorn! Clearly, a precocious young mare with confidence, a new player to Canterlot’s gossip circuit. Through the crowd, Twilight found a mare with regal purple mane and tail styled into magnificent, flawless curls which bounced with each motion, each little shift in posture even as she turned her nose up and away like she smelled something foul. Her snow white coat was pristine and captured the light, accentuated by a blue dress which matched the glittering sapphire stone around her neck—a sapphire in the shape of a diamond, set upon a golden necklace. One of the other bearers. Generosity, if she recalled her mother’s tales. A mare of House Belle. The corner of Twilight’s mouth twitched. Well, she’s certainly generous with her opinion, the Princess of the Seekers mused. Then, she noticed the six mares surrounding the one she’d been observing, all but one of them bearing similar necklaces, with gems matching those she’d heard her mother speak of so many times before. They were all here. All of the other bearers, plus one tagalong. A mare of orange yellow coat and yellow-red mane, garbed in a dress the color of a raging fire, her teal eyes flashing with ire as they met Twilight’s own. Could that be … Twilight averted her gaze. It wasn’t her place to wonder such things. If that mare was a member of House Shimmer, she could take up the issue with Celestia and Luna. It had been by their will that her mother relieved the house of their burden, and the mare’s own family whose actions led to Magic losing its spark. And it wasn’t as though her mother had taken it up without risk to the hive. At last, she came to a stop before the princesses and bowed her head, then exchanged warm hugs with each, much to the onlookers’ surprise. No doubt, to those mares’ as well. Luna chuckled and patted her shoulder. “Quite a figure you cut for your first appearance at one of our galas,” she mused. “Rather, your first with this face, and in such a lovely dress, might I add.” Her eyes flitted to Twilight’s mane, she gave an approving hum. “And traditional braids? I think they suit you well.” “Agreed,” Celestia put in. “In fact, I may just have to suggest we exercise aunthood privilege to insist upon seeing more of this Twilight. She glows like the very element she bears!” “Thank you.” Beaming and cheeks flushing beneath their praise, she gestured to Silín. “But I think I have to credit my old friend for that.” The Princess of Day inclined her head. “Then you have our thanks, Captain Labhrais. And might I offer my compliments to you and your companions’ choice in attire as well. That shade of red suits you well.” Her praise was met with a smile and slight bow of Silín’s, her flowing red tresses styled into a braided circlet of her own. “Many thanks, Princess,” came her smooth reply. “My kin and I are honored to join our Princess and yourselves on this eve. We certainly hope tonight is enjoyable for all.” “The feeling is quite mutual,” Luna said with a little fluffing of her feathers. “I don’t know about you, sister, but I’m not sure which I’m looking forward to more—the meal or the dance.” “Careful now, or you’ll rouse their curiosity with such tone! Teasing knowledge in front of Seekers, you should know better!” Unabashed, the Princess of Night grinned. “Oh, hush!” She cast a wink at the changelings. “I’m sure they’ll be able to live with the unknown for a little while longer.” A statement which drew a grin from Silín and her comrades as they encircled and began interrogating her, much to Luna’s delight. Twilight chuckled and shook her head. Luna did so love to join her hive’s games. There was a rather interesting debate as to whose were more cunning—Queen Sireadh and the Seekers or Luna and her Night Guard. A friendly competition still undecided. Such happy thoughts were brought to a halt, though, when the herald’s voice cut through the air once more, “Presenting Mi Amore Cadenza, Princess of Love, and her husband and Prince-Consort, Captain Shining Armor!” Her heart leapt into her throat. Slowly, Twilight turned, her eyes wide and ears erect. She watched them enter—Cadence in a flowing cream dress with golden trim and pale pink hearts imprinted upon it, and Shining in that handsome red uniform with tassels and blue sash forming a cross shape over his chest, and several medals pinned on the right side. Both just a hair shorter than she. With each step closer, she could feel that claw tighten its grip upon her chest. Her very breath seemed short, unable to fill her lungs  no matter how deeply she tried to draw in. The ballroom fell away, leaving nothing in Twilight’s world save her surrogate aunts and them—her dear old friends. But were they still? Cadence’s deep purple eyes found hers in short order, transfixing her in place. They lit up, dazzling like gemstones, and Cadence gave Shining a subtle little tug forward, one which drew a smile and nod. No resistance, no hesitation. When they reached the group, they each bowed and greeted Celestia and Luna with a warm embrace. Then, at last, they turned to face Twilight. She froze. All the things she so wanted to say, all the ways she’d hoped to hug them close and tell them how she worried over them and longed to see them again so she could be sure, all of it died and stuck in the back of her throat. Her tongue felt dry and twisted, as if tangled in knots. Shining made the first move. He stepped closer, one of his forelegs paused just off the ground, waiting. “Are you going to give me a hug?” he asked softly, a small smile playing upon his lips. “Or am I going to have to bearhug you like a silly nymph for trying to hide her smile in front of all these ponies?” Her ears twitched. Blinking, Twilight opened her mouth, then closed it with a click. The words still fell short. Tears welling and stinging the corners of her eyes, all she could think to say was, “I’m not a silly nymph!” “Yes, you are.” He closed the distance between them and caught her in a tight, one-legged embrace. Shining pressed his cheek against hers, moving so he could whisper in her ear, “You’re a silly nymph with her nose in too many books, and if you ever think I’d blame you for something someone else did to us, I’ll come to Halla Eolais and mix up every last one of your shelves.” Another set of hooves wrapped around her. Cadence nuzzled her and whispered, her voice strained and thick with emotion, “Don’t listen to him. The big softie was just as jittery, afraid you might try to run as soon as you saw us. He’ll be crying with us in a few seconds.” Her grip tightening, she planted a soft kiss on Twilight’s cheek. “I’m so glad to see you, Ladybug.” Ladybug. The mere word snapped everything back into place like it shattered a spell. With shaking hooves, she wrapped the pair in a hug, squeezing them as tight as she could manage and buried her nose in their shoulders. Hot tears rolled freely down her cheeks, staining that lovely dress and handsome uniform jacket. She didn’t feel too guilty about it, though. Her shoulders were just as damp when they finally let go.