“I can’t thank you and Haberdasher enough for letting us meet here, Bright Sky,” Sure Stroke said, hugging her fellow pegasus tight as they stood together in the kitchen. Her ears stood erect, ready to listen out for the familiar whistle of the kettle.
The older mare waved her off with a smile. “No thanks necessary. After all the help the Caretakers have given us, it’s nice to be able to give a little back.” Her smile faltering a touch, Bright Sky leaned in to murmur, “Er, correct me if I’m wrong, but when Aspire mentioned his friend in that letter, he meant the actual … you know?”
Sure Stroke nodded once. It must have been a bit striking to realize one of the changelings masquerading as a pony in your home was royalty. That it was Enchanter royalty, was another level.
She could almost see her fillyhood self in the expression which flitted across Bright Sky’s face. Fear of Enticier’s charm, no doubt.
Best to allay those before she got too worried.
“Prince Enticier, yes,” Sure Stroke replied. Before Bright Sky could question it, she held up a hoof. “He’ll behave. He’s not here to charm or look for companions. We just needed a place to meet and talk freely where, er, ponies not in the know might overhear.”
Bright Sky let out a relieved sigh and brought a hoof to her heart. “Thank you. I don’t mean to be … well, I guess I sort of do. Hab’s just told me a bit about the different hives, they’re one he actually dealt with, so—”
“Normally, yes, you might get a bit of it outside Respite. Not from him, though. Not this time, at least.” Certainly not in his state. “We’re holding a bit of an intervention for him, if that helps.”
Frowning, the older mare stole a glance through the door, into the room the disguised changelings had been ushered. “Is he harming himself somehow?”
A stabbing pain shot through Sure Stroke’s heart. Physically, he didn’t look it, but that rather went out the window whenever changelings were involved—they could look however they damn well pleased. Emotionally and mentally, though …
She swallowed a lump in her throat. It was Bright Sky’s home and she did deserve to know the reason they’d actually come.
Still, it was best to be diplomatic and not air dirty laundry that wasn’t hers to share. “He’s taken on a rather large load back home and we’d like to make sure he’s okay.”
“Ah. All right.” Releasing their embrace, Bright Sky took a couple steps back and rustled her wings. “Sorry, I don’t mean to pry, but even after a couple years knowing the Caretakers, changelings as a whole are still new territory. And since Hab’s made sure I’ve never met an Enchanter or a Locust …”
The kettle’s piercing whistle made Sure Stroke’s ears splay and wings twitch as if to unfurl. Tea was ready at last.
Which meant it was time for her to go join the boys and see just what state Enticier was in when he let that weak, straining smile fall.
Bright Sky turned away, trotting over to the stove to turn off the burner with a deft flick of her hoof. Then, she moved to retrieve the teapot and set about finishing preparations. “No need to wait on me if you’d like to go in and join them for that talk, dear,” she called over her shoulder. “I can get this set up and dropped off, then leave you all to it.”
That her heart seemed to dip toward the pit of her stomach only served to further dampen her mood. What sort of friend was Sure Stroke that she spent all that time talking up Aspire on the train and getting antsy to see Enticier in the station that she got skittish when it finally came time to sit down with him and talk?
Then again, what sort of friend actually wanted to see another in pain? Even if it meant helping them through it. Still, that was exactly what friends were meant to do, even if it hurt to see. And Sure Stroke wasn’t one to turn away from a friend in need. If the roles had been reversed, Enticier wouldn’t have bothered asking for a meeting in Manehattan.
He’d have simply appeared on their doorstep in Respite one morning.
The young mare held her head high and squared her shoulders, folding her wings neatly as she steeled herself for whatever she might hear. The blood of Hurricane’s legions flows through every pegasus, she reminded herself, that old saying still so dear to their hearts. Sure Stroke slipped out of the kitchen and trotted down the hall, pushing the door open with a little nudge of her shoulder against the wood.
Still wearing their pony disguises, Aspire and Enticier jolted from their spots opposite cushions, each breaking their awkward, silent staring contest to turn their attention to her. Their reactions—well …
Aspire’s posture relaxed slowly, a crooked, nervous half-smile playing upon his false face while Enticier looked for a brief instant as though the sun had come up before something hit him. Pain flashed across the young prince’s features for but an instant, then that strained smile from the station was back once more. Not at all the teasing, suave Prince of Enchanters she’d known for two years.
Just looking at the pair was enough to make her heart break. Her mouthy, snarky boyfriend who always knew what to say stricken dumb and looking so much like the ashamed nymph who’d frightened her in Neighagara Forest, and their old friend, a handsome devil of a changeling with a voice and wiles as smooth as velvet and a sort of dashing gleam to his eyes, gone and replaced by little more than a hollow shell with a wan smile and a tired look.
A tired look the likes of which no amount of changeling magic could hope to conceal.
Despite the ache in her heart, Sure Stroke offered her warmest smile to her favorite boys and moved to take her place at Aspire’s side, trailing her primaries along his back as she wrapped him in a feathery embrace and stole a quick nuzzle beneath his jawline. Enough to earn a smile and crooning, changeling purr.
Across the room, Enticier made a point to find interest in a potted miniature cactus resting upon the window sill.
Avoiding already. Sure Stroke did her best to keep her smile, but did give a little cough to draw his gaze. “How have you been holding up these past couple weeks?”
Enticier let his ears splay. “Not beating around the bush, are you?” he asked with a forced chuckle. “I sometimes forget how direct you like to be.”
“Would you rather I play coy?” she countered, fluttering her lashes.
Despite himself, Aspire snorted. “Choose wisely there, pal,” he teased. The first quip he’d made since their reunion.
Immediately, Enticier’s smile was gone. He looked down at his cushion and shook his head. “No, no.” The Prince of Enchanters swallowed, his shoulders slumped. “Direct is … fine. Just fine. I’m okay with direct. I’m okay with however you want it.”
Where was that charmer? Where was all that playfulness?
Sure Stroke shared a look with Aspire. In his eyes, she could see that pain and angst, the same as had been on the train, but just that much deeper. As if he were trying to ask what he’d just done wrong.
She could only glance from he to Enticier and back, and give a subtle shake of her head.
He bit his lip, then dared to let his tongue flick out, wincing at whatever he must’ve tasted. Aspire reached over and gripped Sure Stroke’s hoof tight. “I didn’t mean anything by it, Enticier,” he murmured. “I was only teasing a little.”
A discontented rumble rolled deep in the back of his throat, Enticier ducked his head and rubbed his shin. For Celestia’s sake, the changeling looked as though he might like to just curl in on himself.
Worse still, Sure Stroke could see how Aspire’s face fell as he took note himself. In a small voice, barely above a whisper, he said, “I just meant be careful because she’s gotten good at wordplay. I didn’t mean it as a threat or thought of a slight.”
“I know.” Enticier drew in a shaky breath, squeezing his eyes shut. “Just something I worry about. Especially with how things have gone in Paradise lately.”
Sure Stroke’s ears twitched. “Go on,” she prodded.
He blew a breath through his nose, burying his face in the cushion for a moment before grumbling something and looking up to meet their eyes again. “I suppose there’s no point in beating around the bush here. What with how easily he—” Enticier nodded to Aspire “—can taste everything I feel right now.”
“I’d rather you just be open with us because we’re friends,” Aspire said softly.
A ghost of a smile flitted across Enticier’s face. “We are, yes. But we’re also changelings. Easy answers aren’t exactly a thing with our kind.” He let his smile fall with a sigh. “And I suppose that’s my mistaken wording. I just meant there’s no sense in trying to downplay it with you face to face when you could both see through me from four hundred miles away.”
Bright Sky nudged the door open and slipped into the room at that moment, drawing all attention as she hurried in to deposit the tea tray in the middle of the group. She offered a nervous smile and mouthed an apology, then hurried out of the room as if she’d been bitten by a horsefly. Whether to return to the shop floor to help Haberdasher or out of some lingering unease toward Enticier, Sure Stroke wasn’t certain.
She could only hope it was the former.
Enticier, though, didn’t seem to mind the mare’s hasty retreat. He made sure to call out and meet her eye for a bare instant, just enough to nod and murmur a quick “Thank you for your hospitality.” Then, his horn lit as green as changeling slime as he took up the task of pouring and preparing their cups himself.
Though his eyes tracked the sugar, cream, and pot and cups, Sure Stroke could see his eyes glaze over and lose focus. Not so much like those ponies who’d slipped back into past trauma, but more …
It was like Enticier had been waiting for it. That he’d simply succumbed to exhaustion coupled with the relief at the chance to just let his mind wander in the midst of some simple task that only needed attention so long to spill and look up to ask, “How much sugar, Sure Stroke?”
“One cube,” she replied, biting back her usual quip about changelings ruining innocent cups of tea. The young mare accepted the cup with a smile and nod of thanks, carefully plucking it out of the air.
Sure, they’d had some on the way over, but at this point, she would stomach just about whatever would make him comfortable.
So when she took a long sip and looked up to meet his eyes once more, Sure Stroke was quite surprised to find him staring back, waiting for something.
That his smile spread wide and brilliant blue eyes filled with delight, flickering between sky blue and deep royal. “You didn’t say it,” Enticier murmured. “You kept that snarky little comment to yourself.”
“Er. Yes? This hardly seems the time.” Sure Stroke again turned to aim a confused look at Aspire.
He sat upright, his ears ramrod straight. Behind those fiery orange eyes, she could see the wheels turning in his head. A flash of pink ran along his lips, spurring a little spark, just a hint of that glimmer she so loved.
“Why is that so important?” Aspire asked, seizing on whatever he’d tasted as though it were a lifeline.
Enticier blinked. Slowly, he floated Aspire’s cup over to him, and hung his head. For a moment, he stayed silent, content to just stir his tea.
Then, he asked, “Sure Stroke?”
She nearly jolted off the cushion. “Y-Yes?”
“Do you remember when I wrote in my letter that we were dealing with something we were ill-equipped to handle?”
“You called it an unfortunate side-effect of your charms, yes.”
The Prince of Enchanters gave a mirthless smile. “You were right when you mentioned being uncomfortable two years ago, my dear friend,” he said with a sad shake of his head. “But in ways I don’t think either of us ever could’ve imagined.” Averting his gaze, he brought his cup to his lips and took a deep sip. “Honestly, I’m rather disappointed we Enchanters never considered the possibility. Hubris, I suppose one could call it, that our greatest gift caused our loves and friends so.”
Sure Stroke’s mind raced to piece together what he’d implied. The Enchanters’ hubris, their greatest gift turned against the ponies they’d charmed to cause more pain than they’d ever dreamed.
More than she’d thought when she refused his invitation three years prior.
It all hit her like a ton of bricks. The young mare brought her hooves to her mouth, gaping in muted horror. Those poor ponies! And the Enchanters trying so hard to help them—oh, they must’ve run themselves ragged!
She could almost see it. The panic which gripped Respite had no doubt been shared by pony and changeling alike throughout the land—from those living in the cities to those in the hives. For those who had been charmed so thoroughly to share their feelings without restriction and happily drank in that freedom and lived on the high of changeling love and endless pampering …
But wait.
“It’s just been very hectic here, and I’ve been running around a lot. Between ponies and my kin, I’m … I’m doing my best to juggle everyone and keep everyone’s spirits up.”
Her heart broke. No wonder he’d looked so tired, so pitiful.
No wonder he sounded so happy in his letter to hear that someone wasn’t falling apart at the seams.
Aspire rose, his face a mask of grief and sheer incredulity. “Why didn’t you say something?” he murmured, just loud enough to be heard. “We could’ve come up to help, Queen Euphoria would’ve sent aid as soon as we were certain things were safe in the village!”
“It wasn’t your problem,” Enticier replied simply. “You had your families and one another to worry about. I was just happy to hear you were all well.”
“It damned well is our problem!” Aspire snapped, his eyes flashing green for an instant. “Essy, mom, and I are part Enchanter, too! And you’re our friend, you idiot!”
His fellow changeling raised his head high. For a moment, he actually looked every bit the royal he truly was—that handsome, dashing prince Sure Stroke remembered.
When Enticier spoke, he did so slowly, his voice low and thick with emotion, “Then you’ll understand as a quarter Enchanter that I am the Prince of Enchanters. And like my mother and father and Queen Morrigan before me, I will shoulder any burden to keep my hive strong and safe. In mind, body, and heart.” He paused and drew in a deep breath. “Even if it means taking on their pain and yours as my own.”
Aspire sucked in a sharp breath, he gritted his false pony teeth and spat a curse, unable to counter the argument. His chest heaving, he turned away with an angry flick of his tail and glared at the wall.
All the while, Sure Stroke could only stare silently at Enticier. The little filly who’d met that dashing prince two years ago and stood frightened by his power, but transfixed by his gaze and honeyed words just couldn’t match them up.
That carefree, flirtatious nymph and this beaten down, exhausted changeling just weren’t the same.
And yet, weren’t they?
When hadn’t Enticier shown pride in his chance to serve his hive? When had he shown anything but pleasure at the prospect to take more upon his young shoulders?
Not once, her memories so helpfully whispered. Not even when he was turned down and told his way was unsettling.
“You still shouldn’t have hidden from us,” she whispered before she could stop herself.
To his credit, Enticier offered that sad smile again. “I’m sorry I worried you both, but I’m not sorry for what I’ve done for my hive.” He drained the last of his tea in a single sip and turned his gaze skyward. “I just wish I could think of a way to bring up the idea of changing things for everyone in Paradise so we avoid this without sending them all into a tizzy.”
“Why would change work them into a tizzy?” Aspire turned to level him with a curious look.
“Imagine if one day you and every other Caretaker in Respite suddenly could taste nothing but the negative feelings from your pony villagers and nothing you could do could make them stop feeling so miserable.”
Grimacing, Aspire shuddered and nodded once. “All right. I’m there. That was basically Respite during the Long Night.”
The Prince of Enchanters hummed. “I thought as much. Now, imagine after you’ve all been sick for days because that’s all you’ve been tasting and feeding and all the ponies have been fretting and just getting worse because they feel guilty for feeling scared and putting you through all of that, you come up with an idea to solve the problem—Caretakers don’t taste when they think their friends are feeling down.”
“No,” Aspire replied the instant Enticier finished speaking. “We’d never consider—” his eyes went as wide as dinner plates and shoulders slumped. “That’s … if I’m getting what you’re implying …”
“That’s not just a change,” Sure Stroke took up. She shook her head slowly. “You want to completely amend everything.”
“Yes. No. I don’t know. I just know I can’t watch my hive or our loves suffer like that again.” Enticier blew a sigh through his nose. “I won’t watch them suffer like that again. Sure, the idea will be called radical, even if I use one of the more watered down versions. But it at least warrants some discussion.”
Taking a step closer, Aspire leaned down to match his level. “It’s not my business to mess with or talk about Enchanter politics.”
“But you do anyway.” Enticier chuckled. “And you’re welcome enough, with your blood.”
“What you’re proposing isn’t going to be well-received if you just put it out there, even if you’re next in line for the throne.”
Enticier stayed silent. He closed his eyes and turned away, as if pained by the thought.
“What I have in mind won’t make anyone happy at first,” he muttered. “But, if it makes you feel better, I’ll keep it in my family first. Maybe we can see how it works with my sister-mothers. I don’t know.” Sighing again, he laid his head on his forelegs and grumbled, “Something needs to change.”
The boys’ faces fell. Aspire humming and tapping his hoof on the wood a moment, thinking the problem through as he was so wont to do.
Just like Faith listening to her clients, Sure Stroke realized.
“What I said before still stands, though,” Aspire said, finally. “You can always come see us, or ask us to come up if you’re feeling down.”
Enticier offered another of his sad smiles. “I couldn’t ask you to put up with me moping or come to Paradise just for—”
“Would you just shut up and take it? For love’s sake, I’m saying I’ll go to Paradise for you!”
Those words should’ve brightened up Enticier’s face like sunshine on a cloudy day. Sure Stroke knew that for certain, as sure as water was wet and grass was green in spring.
That a flicker of pain flashed across his features was just so wrong. But he kept his smile, still. “Thank you,” Enticier said softly. “I’ll try to be better about keeping in touch this time.”
“You’d better.” Aspire stepped close and, much to Sure Stroke’s surprise and delight, slid onto the cushion with his old friend and nosed against his cheek. “Or I’ll come up and beat your head in, you jerk.”
Laughing, Enticier turned to smile, making as though he had something to add, but bit it back. Instead, he moved to bump his nose against Aspire’s chin and turned his head so he could lean in and press their cheeks together. A gesture of love and affection in any culture.
One Aspire didn’t flinch or push away from.
Sure Stroke padded her way over and took the spot on Enticier’s opposite side, unfurling and draping her wing across her boys’ backs and bumping her forehead against his jaw. This was it. This was exactly what she wanted their time together to be.
This was exactly what Enticier needed after being put through the wringer in Paradise, and as he prepared to throw himself back into the fray.
Come to think of it, yes. Yes, actually.
The wheels in her doodly little head began to turn. Her friend didn’t need to be sitting and fawned over—no matter how much he might enjoy just being together.
Enticier needed something fun and they had until tomorrow morning before the train ride home.
Buck a thunderhead, we’re in Manehattan. Why the hay not?