//------------------------------//
// 17. Stoking the Flames 
// Story: Out of Love 
// by Carapace 
//------------------------------//

“Aspire.”

“Yes, Enticier?”

“When your girlfriend said we should do something fun to break the mood and lift our spirits a bit,” Enticier murmured out of the side of his mouth, his voice barely audible over the constant rattling, clanging, and ringing of mechanized bells, “I didn’t quite have something like this in mind.”

Any other time, Aspire would have surely had some quip on the tip of his tongue about how the vaunted Prince of Enchanters should know well enough to always expect the unexpected. They were changelings, after all—surprises, trickery, and aversions were their forte. Not to mention, Sure Stroke had taken to culture in Respite like a duck to water.

Unfortunately, this time he just couldn’t do it with any semblance of honesty.

Not as the pair of disguised changelings stood side by side, staring bemusedly at the noisy, light-ridden scene before them. The change in scenery made possible by a charitable break in the storm, though the clouds hung heavy overhead.

Aspire could only thank the graces of evolution that the Enchanters and Caretakers had long since ridden themselves of the wide, blue eyes their ancestors once sported, with their legendarily comical sensitivity to light being one of the weaknesses the Founders used to drive them away. Otherwise, this would’ve been an absolutely horrendous experience. Pure torment of two of their key senses. Hell, just force him to down rancid fish and chase it with straight lemon juice while he was at it.

But, then again, what exactly else should any changeling or pony expect when they entered Grand Prize’s ridiculous three story arcade, lined with neon lights, arcade games dating back about twenty years all the way to present, and, of course, a bell above each which would split the air with its shrill cry should a player break the high score or collect the maximum amount of tickets.

Ah, yes. The tickets. 

He’d nearly forgotten about those since they’d last visited Grand Prize’s Arcadopolis—yes, that was the actual name and one of the few deliberately bad plays on words which could make Aspire cringe. Truly, it a momentous occasion. 

In any case, if someone managed to get enough tickets, they could march themselves along the length of the entire game room like they were making their triumphant return from battle, and visit the prize booth situated upon a dais which shone in alternating neon colors. And, behind the desk, looking down upon the players and staff like some gaudy monument to the stallion himself, was a gigantic portrait of Grand Prize, in all his slightly portly, pale gold glory, adorned with a black jacket and tie and matching top hat. Like he was some sort of game show host or a casino owner.

And with an ego and sense of bravado to exceed both.

Still, the Arcadopolis—Aspire suppressed a shiver at that blasted name—was definitely the premier arcade in all the eastern provinces. He and Esalen both had many a fond memory of winning some odd trinket after blowing hours on games, and rarely did a trip into that cacophony of noise and light end in disappointment.

But that didn’t exactly mean he expected Sure Stroke to suggest taking Enticier there to perk him up.

The little mare, however, either didn’t notice their surprise or simply paid it no mind. Sure Stroke bounced on her forehooves and looped a wing around each changeling, her feathers fluffing and tail swishing as she frog marched them forward to get in line for game tokens.

Aspire gave an uneasy laugh. Sure, he had fond memories of the Arcadopolis, but those were all … nymph days.

Back when he was a smug little punk who never knew when to shut up or quit while he was ahead. Not to mention how idyllic his entire outlook on things had been.

Or how unwittingly cruel he’d been to the changeling on his girlfriend’s opposite side.

He buried the pang of guilt which shot through his chest beneath a forced smile.  “Er, honey?” Aspire rubbed at his cheek. 

“Hmm?” She turned to tilt her head at him. “What’s up?”

Aspire shifted beneath her wing. “Are you, uh …” He glanced between the token counter and back, ducking his head to murmur in her ears. “When you said you had an idea to perk Enticier up and lighten the mood, I didn’t think either of us expected you meant the arcade.”

Sure Stroke’s ears twitched, a smile spread across her features. “Oh! Well, I just thought back to the times we went together with Essy and Toola a couple years back, and remembered it was pretty fun,” she said, both her eyes and taste telling of the pride in her plan. 

“Ah, right, right. That we did.” A few such memories of the few times she’d joined flashed before his eyes. They’d been a right terror as a team at mini golf.

Slowly, her smile faltered. “Is something wrong?” she asked softly.

Of course it wasn’t. Aspire shook his head and, still leaning low, nuzzled along her snout. “Just me being silly. That sort of feeling lingering, y’know?”

Her brows raised, she inclined her head and gave a little hum of understanding. “I do.” With a wink and a quick hiss upon the tip of his nose, she slipped out from between the pair of changelings with surprising grace and moved forward in line. “I’ll get the tokens,” she announced. “Why don’t you two go find something to play?”

Aspire caught her intent. He returned her smile with a nod, then nudged Enticier out of the way so a family of four foals and their parents could hurry into line. “C’mon,” he said with one of his crooked smiles. “Let’s go find a game before she gets silly ideas like chasing us off like a bunch of foals."

A snort came in reply. “You think she’d do that here?” Enticier scoffed, even as he followed Aspire’s lead. “Also, why in love’s name was this her choice? I thought we were going someplace like … I don’t know, like a club or something.”

Aspire stopped and turned to fix him with a wry smile. “Two things,” he said. “First, if you don’t think she would, I’ll let her know and watch while she chases you around the block. Second, Ent, please.” He reached up and bopped his old friend on the forehead. “You know her better than that.”

His old friend blinked. “You haven’t called me Ent since we were little,” the Prince of Enchanters murmured.

“Would you prefer I go back to calling you a pest?”

A smile tugged at Enticier’s lips. “No. No, I wouldn’t.” With an amused shake of his head, he continued walking, leaving Aspire to hasten to catch up. “And why exactly should I know her better? I don’t spend near as much time with her face to face as you or Essy.”

That wry smile fell. Aspire sighed and allowed himself a dissatisfied rumble in the back of his throat.

“Oh, dear. Have I disappointed teacher?” Enticier teased.

A little parting of his lips to allow the tip of his tongue to peek between his teeth was enough  to confirm the genuine happiness and playfulness in those words. His old friend had finally come to the surface.

“Teacher? No.” Aspire shook his head. “Me? A little, yeah.” He fixed Enticier with a meaningful look and said, “She loves spending time together with us. We both do, whenever you visit. This kinda just … I dunno, gives us the chance to play around and be close like normal without it being some crowded scene.”

Playfulness was burned away by the sudden teasing of minty surprise upon Aspire’s tongue, like one of Spearmint’s special namesake treats. A bit of satisfaction crept into his smile as he noted the way Enticier’s false blue eyes widened just a fraction, and that happiness within him billowed like the rising tides.

Enticier coughed and turned to look away, averting his gaze toward the games surrounding them.

Typical Ent, Aspire thought with a chuckle. Loves when he’s the one dishing out, but can’t take it in turn.

Sadly, his choice of reprieve was as bad as one of Esalen’s old excuses.

After a moment of desperate searching, the Prince of Enchanters’s awkward, wobbly smile gave way to a sheepish grin. “Er, Aspire?” he asked.

The schoolteacher hummed and allowed himself a knowing smile. “Yes?”

“I … have no idea what any of these games are,” Enticier admitted.

There it was.

Aspire waggled his ears. “Well, fortunately for you, I know just the one to start us off.”

“… Why do I get the feeling you’re going to pick one that makes me look silly?”

“Make you look silly? Ent, please, who do you take me for?”

It was a testament to the strength of their relationship Aspire didn’t take the slightest bit of offense to the flat look his old friend shot him in reply. Were it anyone else, he might’ve been hurt.

For half a second, at least.





“Ack! No, no! Oh, come on!” Enticier glared at the pixel display, a frustrated growl, nearly inequine, rolled in the back of his throat. “I definitely hit buck before the timer ran out! How does that mare keep winning?”

Aspire bit his lip and shared a poorly-hidden grin with his giggling girlfriend. Manehattan was, by some rather old boundary lines drawn after the second or third of the Changeling Wars, considered to be within Caretaker territory. While the Caretakers didn’t quite make day trips over from Respite to feed without asking, it was still a bit more accepted to give in to that bit of passive feeding here and there. So, in essence, this, and the rest of the province, were their feeding ground.

Which meant Enchanters didn’t visit in groups of five or more without leave from Queen Euphoria, and the royals often showed such respect by staying away unless invited by a Caretaker.

Enticier had been to Manehattan a few times before. But his favored hangouts were more in line with dance clubs, concerts, parties, and generally anywhere else he could schmooze with a few ponies—and, in those days, try to impress Aspire enough to consider giving into the Enchanter side of his heritage.

Arcades? Not so much.

Sure Stroke managed to stifle her giggles at last, just in time so she could reach up and offer a comforting pat to the frustrated changeling’s shoulder. “It takes practice to get the timing down,” she said. The little pegasus tugged gently upon his elbow, drawing him away from the Buck ‘Em Brawlers console so they might escape the mirth of tiny foals and wary parents’ stares. “Why don’t we try another?”

Another rumble, this time coupled with a sidelong look at Aspire. “Knew you’d set me up like that,” Enticier groused. 

Aspire shrugged. “Guilty,” he admitted, grinning unabashed. He stepped closer though, just enough to whisper, “And someone needs to remember that he’s an adult pony in the middle of Manehattan before we play our next game.”

The Prince of Enchanters sucked in his lips. “Thanks,” he muttered. Aloud, he said, “So, what next—and please, nothing with fighting a rigged computer character.”

Only a well-timed look from Sure Stroke, a knowing little smirk with raised brows, kept Aspire’s quip from passing his lips. Instead, he glanced about and found an old favorite.

He gave Sure Stroke a gentle elbow nudge to her shoulder and nodded. “There,” he said. “Look, Magical Mayhem looks like it’ll be open in a minute or two.”

Her velvety purple ears perked right up. “Oooh! Yes!” Beaming, she pranced just ahead and turned to look up at Enticier. “You’ll like this one! It’s kinda fighty, kinda adventurey, but it’s with a team of up to four players!”

Enticier looked over at the game, uncertain, and wrinkled his snout. “Is it going to cheat me on timing while it teases me with a health bar?”

“Only the bosses have health bars,” Sure Stroke replied with a shake of her head. “The regular enemies take a hit or two, special enemies can take up to five. Other than that, they cast dark magic, punch, and buck every now and then.”

With a thoughtful hum, Enticier shrugged. “Well, we can give it a try, then.” He shot a dour look over his shoulder at the Buck ‘Em Brawlers game and bared his teeth. “But if it’s rigged like that one, I’m bucking both of them.”

Now, that, Aspire would pay to see.

But since the name of the game was improving moods, needling Enticier was out of the question. Aspire opted instead to follow along, happy at least that they’d gotten Enticier out from under the dark cloud that’d followed him from Paradise. Even if it meant a little foray into frustration at a game.

They arrived just in time to see the tail end of a team of four young colts in the midst of a valiant battle against the middle boss. And, if the familiar scene was any indication, the pint sized heroes were not faring well in their battle against the darkness.

The little ones jerked their hoof stick controls and mashed the buttons furiously, their tails flicking and bodies flinching with some want to dodge in their character’s stead. Upon their chubby, foalish faces, each wore a grimace together with eyes wide in helplessness as the middle boss cut down their characters one by one without mercy.

And as each little hero fell, the colts would let out a frustrated whine and slump in place while his fellows vowed to avenge their fallen comrade. All in vain.

Aspire smiled as bright and warm as a midsummer day, even as the four colts stomped their hooves and groused at their failure. Memories of himself with Esalen, Toola, Nimble, Vector, and Zephyr floated to view, each voicing similar complaints.

“I thought you said this was a fun game,” Enticier quipped.

Before Aspire could think to assure him of such, those four little colts turned, ears twitching and snouts wrinkled.

“A fun game?” one of the colts repeated incredulously. “It’s, like, the best game in the whole Arcadopolis!”

“Everypony plays Magical Mayhem!” another added. “Grand Prize had to put a rule up that ponies could only have two games in a row before a switch because it’s so popular!”

Now, that was new. Aspire could remember just a couple years prior watching as a few Manehattan teens played for the better part of an hour until they were finally kicked off. He glanced up and, sure enough, there was a big sign over the game which read “Two game rule: You may play two games in a row, then you must switch. Violators will be asked to leave.”

Sure Stroke sniffed. “That’s a bit harsh,” she noted.

The first colt, a young earth pony, shook his head. “There were a couple fights over it. Grand Prize got pretty mad.”

Aspire found his attention drawn to the colt. For a moment, the others seemed to fade into the background of his vision, his keen eyes highlighting him as something that wasn’t quite what it appeared.

Could he be … no, he would’ve noticed too.

Out of the corner of his eye, Aspire noticed Enticier blanching. “But … it’s a game,” he said, as if he were hoping to remind past fighters of how silly they were. “A rather frustrating one, given how you lot were complaining.”

Blinking twice, the colts shared a wry look.

“It’s a challenge,” the smallest among them replied.

“If it were easy, it wouldn’t be as fun,” another chipped in. “Just because we’re frustrated doesn’t mean it’s not a fun game we wouldn’t play again like that Buck ‘Em Brawlers machine.”

His friends grimaced. “Don’t remind me,” the little one grumped. “That stupid game is totally rigged.”

“Aha!” Enticier cried, turning to Aspire with a triumphant gleam in his eye. “I told you so!”

Aspire reached up and pressed a hoof against his friend’s nose, gently pushing him back. “Congratulations,” he deadpanned, much to Sure Stroke’s mirth. “You’re as mature as the eight year olds.”

On his opposite side, Sure Stroke gave him a little hip bump. “Oh, be nice, I’ve seen how you get with some of these machines.” She reared up and draped her hooves over his back so she could look over at Enticier and waggled her ears. “So, wanna play with us?”

The Prince of Enchanters let an uncertain little groan roll in the back of his throat. “I doubt I’ll be very good,” he said with a sigh, but made to approach the console’s third player position all the same. 

Sure Stroke rolled her eyes and hopped off Aspire’s back so she could follow their friend. “You’ll do fine, you great big foal!” she teased. All the same, she looked to the foals around them and shot Aspire a coy smirk.

His brow arched. What schemes are you scheming in that doodle-filled head of yours? he could only wonder.

Aspire watched his girlfriend turn to the four fallen heroes and offer a winning smile. “So,” she began, “which of you would like to help us teach our friend and get back at that mid-boss?”

Four sets of eyes shone with delight, the only warning before a scramble to the fourth player hoof stick ensued, and the first foal to speak up joined their party. 

Not a bad idea, all things considered.

Aspire sidled over to the first player spot so Sure Stroke could have her two favorite disguised changelings on either side of her, a gesture which earned him a happy fluffing of feathers and peck on the cheek before she placed a pouch full of tokens on the console and inserted two for each player.

“Magical Maaaaaaaaaaayhem!” the announcer’s voice boomed from twin speakers mounted on either side of the console. Upon the screen, a grid of characters floated into view, each with a picture of a pony sorcerer from various comics and book series and their name beneath.  “Choose your character!”

As always, Aspire was quick to select his old favorite, Donnchad MacCulkin, so he could claim the stallion’s iconic primary look. A move which never failed to earn that tired smile from Sure Stroke, the one that just said “Really? You can’t pick someone else?”

In fact, yes. Aspire hit cancel just as she began to accept Donnchad herself, and switched his character to the Cold Queen, Esalen’s favorite. A move which gave Donnchad’s primary look to a most surprised Sure Stroke, while Enticier snagged a young colt in his mid teens Aspire only barely recognized from comic covers he’d passed over in the bookstore.

“He’s got a very you smile,” Enticier explained when he noticed Aspire’s attention. 

“Players ready! Stage one: begin!”

The character grid seemed to shatter before their eyes to reveal a ravaged pony city somewhere in the Far East. A runic circle glowed blood red on the ground at the center of the screen, then a flash of light brought the heroic sorcerers and fey queen onto the battlefield.

“This land is ravaged by chaos and greed,” the Cold Queen’s cool, derisive tone sounded through the speakers. “Shall I bring an early winter to balance the scales, beloved?”

“We had a deal,” Donnchad countered. “We save the colonies and the colonists, we’re not bringing an Age of Ice to this place to start from scratch!”

Aspire grinned. “And this is why Essy and I always chose those two.”

“The banter?” Enticier asked. 

“Bingo.”

“Boys!” Sure Stroke chided just as a monstrous, gurgling snarl reached their ears and hideous, monstrous things that looked an insidious cross between a pony and some unnamed monster stalked into view from either side of the screen.

A quick shift of the hoof stick and touch of the primary strike button saw the Cold Queen make a graceful dash across the screen to drive a hoof into the face of the first creature, and a second, a back hoofed swipe across another’s face while she scoffed and said, “Worth neither frost nor wind, a pitiful soul indeed.”

Enticier was nowhere near as smooth in his reply. He mashed his hoof furiously upon the buttons and jerked the hoof stick in a way that sent his young unicorn flailing about the screen like a jackrabbit on a sugar rush, content to throw limb and spell at every enemy around. To a point, it certainly worked to clear four monsters in quick succession.

But he didn’t notice the drawback until Sure Stroke looked over and warned, “Ent, you need to conserve your spells for bigger groups or more important enemies or you’ll run out! Keep an eye on the little blue bar beneath the green one—green for health, blue for magic!”

“Huh?” Enticier looked down at the bars, only for his character to take a hit from one of the monsters. “Hey!” he protested. “I was looking at that, you stupid … swamp-creature-looking-thing!”

On and on they fought against—as Enticier insisted upon calling them—the stupid swamp-creature-looking-things. Through the streets of a village torn apart by battle and up a long, winding path until they reached the fallen city of Trylothia. All the way, their enemies multiplied and strengthened, challenging the heroes.

Challenging two disguised changelings.

Aspire felt his blood scream for victory, even against the game. He bared his teeth in a wicked grin and unleashed the Cold Queen’s special blizzard attack upon a hulking beast bearing down upon Sure Stroke.

“Another rescue, another debt,” Aspire teased in a poor mockery of the Cold Queen’s voice, painful though it was to forgo his natural gift.

“Yeah, yeah, put it on his tab,” Sure Stroke imitated Donnchad, just as she used his lightning lance to decimate a crowd of creatures bearing down on Aspire. “And like that, it’s paid.”

“Touché.”

On her opposite side, Enticier had thrown himself right into the thick of it as well. Much like the little colt at his side, he jerked his controls and mashed buttons wildly, leaning in close and shifting his body about as if he were one with the character. 

Competition and delight hung thick in the air. Delicious. So tempting to just draw inward for a little passive feeding.

The team of four made it all the way passed the mid-boss—a massive hydra with twelve heads, each of which could alternate between shooting fire or lunging for a quick strike—and even managed to advance up the slopes of the foreboding Mount Apocalypse, the lair of the demon leading the attacks.

That was right about where their fortunes took a turn for the worst. 

The zone boss, a hulking ursa major corrupted by dark magic, thundered forth from within its den. Its roar shook the very ground the heroes stood upon, and a swipe of its paw cut their health in half! 

It was here, Aspire remembered, his efforts always were in vain.

So too was it on this day.

“No! No—oh, what a load of horse apples!” Enticier slapped the console and propped his chin upon his hoof while his little partner in crime groaned and allowed himself to fall backward and lay upon the ground, surrounded by his friends. “Stupid ursa.”

Sure Stroke grimaced. “We’ll get her. Aspire, aim an ice lance at her—eek! No!”

“Aaaaaaand we’re dead,” Aspire intoned. Damn, and they’d been doing so well too. Better than he’d thought, since he they hadn’t played in so long. He rolled his eyes at the grayed out screen and “GAME OVER” showing in red lettering, then turned and shrugged his shoulders. “Sorry, colts. Looks like no one’s getting to Mount Apocalypse’s peak today.”

The little colt sat up straight and shot him a disbelieving look. “Are you kidding me? That was amazing!” He leapt to his hooves, a bright grin splitting his features as he looked up at each of them with nothing short of utmost adoration written plain upon his face. “You guys are incredible! And I thought you said you’d never played before!”

Enticier blinked. “Er … I haven’t,” he replied.

Aspire had to bite his tongue to stifle a laugh at the way his friend nearly jumped as the four young colts surrounded him in an instant, each gaping up at him in awe.

“You’re an actual natural then! You gotta play with us again!” 

“Uh, well, I don’t really … um.” It was a rare moment to see any Enchanter, let alone Enticier, so flustered and at a loss for words.

That Aspire got to witness it twice in such a short amount of time was truly a gift. So, when Enticier looked over to him in silent askance for rescue, he was all too pleased to take the chance to smile back and say, “Sure, I wouldn’t mind another game. How about you, honey?”

“Oh, definitely!” she replied, sending a grin Enticier’s way when he goggled at her. “I wanna see if we can finally beat that stupid bear.”

Outvoted and flanked by his friend and a posse of adoring fans, Enticier could do little but shift in place and duck his head to hide the smile creeping across his features. “I suppose I wouldn’t mind playing out the second of those two games we’re allowed.” He glanced down at the colt by his side and gave a crooked smile, “Though I may need your help again, Redwood.”

The little colt, Redwood, swished his tail like an eager little puppy. 

Aspire allowed himself a small smile as Sure Stroke inserted another round of game tokens. I have the distinct feeling that ursa is doomed.





The ursa was, in fact, quite doomed.

It was Enticier’s senseless mashing of those buttons that sealed the victory. His young mage unleashed his special finisher with a youthful cry of “Swirling Light Storm!” and sent a burst of shimmering light through the ursa’s chest. The beast evaporated into stardust with an agonized roar, leaving the route to the summit clear.

Much to the delight of little Redwood and his friends, of course. Enticier was promptly mobbed by the colts—as best they could do, each latching upon one of his legs like lampreys, pressing against him as if he were one of their own.

And Enticier’s bright smile and laughter as he struggled to maintain his balance told of his own joy. His taste?

Aspire licked his lips. Delicious. Enticier, Sure Stroke, the colts, and Redwood all tasted so happy and full of love.

A little passive sip at that swirling vortex of happiness wouldn’t go missed. Even if it drew a startled look from Enticier.

“Just a taste,” Aspire mouthed sheepishly. “Little snack.”

With a nod, Enticier smiled and took a deep breath. Aspire could feel his magic reach out to sample a bit in turn, brushing against his cheek as soft and warm as a friendly nuzzle that lingered just a bit.

His heart lodged in his throat. Aspire drew in a shuddering breath as he felt his friend end his little snack, that phantom touch upon his cheek left at last.

“S-So!” he stammered abruptly. “What next?”

“How about mini golf?” Sure Stroke offered. “Something a bit more relaxing, and not at all rigged.” She cast a wink toward Enticier.

The Prince of Enchanters took it in stride. “Haha, I’m not the only one who says it.” He gestured to Redwood. “Mini golf? I’m guessing that’s just a smaller variant of the golf courses we have back home?”

“You’ve never played mini golf either?” Redwood detached himself from Enticier so he could gape in horror. “Where the hay do you live?”

“In the north. We don’t have mini golf courses, unfortunately, but I do well enough at actual golf.” With a shrug, Enticier smiled at Sure Stroke. “I like the idea. How different could it be?”





Aspire felt his smile straining as he waved an apology at a pair of families ahead on the course. One of the fathers shot  a glare back in turn, his hoof wrapped protectively around his young filly’s shoulders.

Meanwhile, Sure Stroke busied  herself taking Enticier by the elbow so she could pull him away from the  course. Right as a blue flash of magic brought the ball right back to its place at the starting position.

“Ent,” she said patiently, though through gritted teeth. “This is the second time and we’re only four holes into the game.”

His ears drooping, the disguised prince rubbed his shoulder. “It’s not as easy at it looks to kick the habit.”

“Yes, but the point in mini golf is to navigate the obstacles by putting, not practicing a chip shot off the stones!”

While Enticier was indeed rather talented when it came to golf—or so he’d bragged on their way out onto the course—there were a few things he just couldn’t quite wrap his head around when it came to the miniaturized version. Simple things, to those who knew the game.

Like not taking the shortest possible path, but trying to go through the obstacles in his way.

Aspire turned away from the families ahead, ignoring their baleful looks, and trotted over to pat Enticier’s shoulder. “Let’s try this again, Ent,” he said, humor tinging his voice. Truth be told, the game could use just a little more adventure anyway. He drew Enticier in close and gestured in the direction of the hole—and before it, a quartet of white, egg-shaped bumpers positioned at the edge of an incline which led down to the proverbial green. “So, this one is just like the last, but with the added twist of that drop to throw you off.”

“And suddenly alter course, like with yours,” Enticier noted.

“Right.” Aspire’s ear flicked. He’d been so close to a hole in one. “So, best bet is to put it through the center gap between the inner two bumpers—” he gestured with his club “—just wide enough for the ball to fit through.”

The Prince of Enchanters hummed in thought. “With little wiggle room to work with either way.” He glanced at Aspire out of the corner of his eye. “Just enough to drive somepony nuts.”

Sure Stroke stepped over and threw a wing across his shoulders. With a sly grin, she leaned in and said, “Think of it less as trying to drive you nuts and more as us laying down a challenge, Ent. If you think you can come back, that is.” 

Within those sky blue eyes, there was a flash, a flicker of that same fire all changelings had when answering challenges offered.

Enticier glanced down at his putter and arched a brow, considering it a moment. A slow, conniving smile spread across his features. “Well, when you put it like that, I suppose I can’t exactly fool around, then.”

He turned, humming a musical tune and took his club in hoof, lining up for his next shot. Holding his tongue between his false pony teeth, Enticier took his measure and drew his club back. In one motion, he swung forward and sent the ball zipping along the course, straight through the bumpers and down the slope, just by the hole.

“Ah, close,” Aspire muttered under his breath.

Then the ball rebounded off the stone wall with a little clack and merrily skipped backward. Right into the hole.

Slowly, Aspire turned to fix Enticier with an incredulous look. One shared by their fellow players.

Enticier blinked. “What? I told you I was good! I just was trying to avoid the obstacles like in actual golf!”

From that point on, it was little contest. Enticier didn’t just catch fire and make a comeback after a dismal start.

Quite simply put, he ran the table. Worse, he made it look entirely too easy.

Every hole, any obstacle, Enticier overcame with seemingly effortless ease. He even humored Sure Stroke trying to distract him by tickling along his ribcage with her primaries long enough to turn and shoot her a grin.

“C’mon,” he teased, “with my family, you don’t think distractions are part of the game? Ha!”

He promptly turned and sank a hole in one, and waggled his ears when he noticed the playful glare she sent in reply.

“You totally hustled us,” she accused without heat.

“Not at all.” Enticier shook his head. “I still have no idea why any pony would add obstacles other than the norm to golf, but if the name of the game is to beat them by going through … well, same principal as avoiding the sand or water or trees.”

The game only grew more lopsided from then onward. While he wasn’t exactly sinking holes in one on each and every shot, it certainly felt like he always knew exactly how to put himself in prefect position for an easy tap in on the second shot, much to the consternation of Sure Stroke and the foals.

Aspire, meanwhile, was content to bring up the rear in terms of score. Did he like losing to Enticier? Oh, love no!

But the way his girlfriend’s snout wrinkled, her face twisting as if she were sucking on a lemon, was well worth his dismal placing. Even if he’d completely mis-putted a couple because he couldn’t stop laughing.

“Shut. Up.” Sure Stroke ground through gritted teeth. Her cheeks burned a bright red, full of embarrassment.

But no real anger. Aspire didn’t taste the slightest bit of that.

No, just a bit of chagrin.

So it was about a fifty-fifty shot as to whether he was safe as he turned to plant a sloppy kiss upon her cheek and waggle his ears. “Shouldn’t’ve challenged him if you didn’t want him to step up and make things interesting.”

Whatever payback Sure Stroke might have concocted in her doodly little head was well worth the glare she shot in reply. More so when she promptly sent her next shot straight off a little makeshift bridge and into the water.

Without looking, she held up a hoof  in warning. “Not a word,” Sure Stroke said slowly.

She should’ve known better.

Aspire trotted right up, planted another kiss upon her cheek, just as sloppy as the last, and chirped, “Word.”

And then he turned tail and fled as if Cerberus himself was nipping at his tail, his escape followed by raucous laughter and his lovely girlfriend’s voice shouting promises of a reunion between his head and her wing. One Esalen might have said was a long time coming, had she been present.

After a rather lengthy game of cat and mouse which finally saw Enticier step in, quite amused at the whole thing, to ask the lovebirds if they were finished or if they needed an extended intermission.

The look Sure Stroke shot Aspire before she agreed to end the chase only assured him whatever payback she cooked up would see him begging for mercy.

Meh, still worth it.

By the time they reached the eighteenth hole, the climactic showdown between Enticier and little Redwood, the sky had turned an ominous black once again. Like the storm had gathered itself once more for  a second wave. A cold wind blew across the mini golf course, spurring a shiver and flick of Apsire’s ears.

He glanced over at Sure Stroke to find her staring up at the clouds, her brows knotted in concern. “Honey?” he asked as a rumble sounded in the distance.

She didn’t reply at first. The little mare’s feathers twitched and ruffled, her lips curved into a small frown. “We need to finish up quickly,” she announced. Sure Stroke turned to meet his eyes. “That storm is about to get really ugly, and I don’t think the weather team is going to have time to take the edge off it.”

Aspire and Enticier shared a look. Wild storms were no joke, whether snow or rain. “All right, let’s try to move it along then,” Aspire said, ushering the foals into a line. “Everypony get in line in order so we can just get this moving and finish as quickly as—”

A flash of light flashed just across the street and the loud clap of thunder split the air, drawing a chorus of startled squeaks from the foals.

“Or we head in now and don’t get hit by lightning,” he finished as if he hadn’t been interrupted. Aspire nudged them toward the door and called, “Everypony get inside! Go!”

They were off like he’d shot them out of a crossbow, running as fast as their little hooves could carry them, jostling and bumping together in their haste to get inside. 

The adults came after, following along in a brisk trot so not to bowl over the young ponies and ensure they made it inside. Aspire felt a droplet of rain upon his head, then another on his shoulder before a steady cascade came down upon the city like a curtain, drumming out a cadence atop every rooftop in the city. 

And with it, came another rumble of thunder, like an angry giant waking from its sleep.

Aspire slid to a halt, his hooves slipping on the wet pavement, and moved to let Enticier and Sure Stroke pass first, earning a nod of thanks from each in turn. He cast one quick look out across the course to ensure there was no one else lagging behind. Then, once he was certain there were none, he turned and slipped inside, closing the door behind him with a sharp kick of his hind hoof.

Inside, a throng of ponies, foals and teens alike, crowded together around the prize station. Their young faces showed concern, anxiety. And they had just the stallion to direct it toward.

Grand Prize had emerged from his office in the back to placate his guests’ unease. He held up a hoof in askance that they wait while he turned to what looked to be a series of brass tubes mounted upon the wall, just in time for a cylindrical object to come sliding into the middle tube with a whizzing noise and slight ka-shonk.

Aspire led his group over to stand by the prize stand to listen in as the portly stallion took the cylinder in his magic’s shimmering gold glow and floated it out of the tube, then broke it open to reveal a little scroll. He unrolled it gently and took a moment to look over the note, a hint of a frown playing upon his lips.

“Bad news, everypony,” he announced with  a heavy sigh. “It looks like this is a full blown storm that the weather pegasi weren’t able to fully weaken to normal levels. They got some of the outer bands, but the main body we’re going to start getting was a bit too far out over water for them to manage. The forecasting equipment has shown this to be rather severe and they’ve put out a warning to stay indoors for the next three hours, then try to be home for the night for the rest.”

Worry swept through the crowd. The foals and teens each turned to one another and spoke in hushed whispers, fretting over how they would get home and what they would tell their parents. Aspire turned to look to Enticier and Sure Stroke, biting his lip as he thought of their trains.

“Two hours to departure,” Sure Stroke said.

“Same for me.” Enticier sighed and reached up to massage his forehead. “Well, this is going to make a mess of things.”

Grand Prize held up hooves in a calming gesture. “Now, now, it’ll be all right. This is the last of the outer bands, and it looks like there will be a bit of a break,” he said, drawing their attention to him once more. “I can’t let you little ones out in that storm in good conscience, but I understand that some of you didn’t necessarily bring enough money to stay for so long. So, I’m willing to offer free snack and drinks and non-ticket games during the storm. Then, when we get to that break, we’ll send you home by groups or walk you to the metro station.”

It was like he’d cast a spell. One minute, Grand Prize was faced with a crowd of fretting foals wondering how they’d get home in the storm. The next, he was the kindly heroic stallion who put profit aside to help keep the community foals safe and sound.

It was no small wonder the Arcadopolis was such a staple in the area.

Aspire turned away to face Sure Stroke and Enticier, laying a comforting hoof upon his girlfriend’s shoulders. “I suppose we’ll have to see if we can bother Hab and Bright to see if they’ll let us impose upon them for the evening.”

“Oh, I hate to bother them for something like this,” Sure Stroke said with a sigh.

“Don’t let them hear you say that or we’ll hear about all my parents and Queen Euphoria have done for them in turn. Ent, you’re welcome to join us.”

The Prince of Enchanters gave a rueful smile. “I’ll have to, I didn’t bring enough to get myself a room.” Thinking a moment, he asked, “They wouldn’t have a fire path in their home, would they?”

Aspire shrugged. “I’m not sure, but if they do it’s probably just an emergency path that goes to the Queen’s den.”

“Could work, if Queen Euphoria doesn’t mind being a middlemare to let my mother know I missed my train because of the storm.”

“Then we’ll have to check with them.”

“A little bold to be talking about one of the Queens in public, isn’t it, cousin?” Redwood cut into their conversation.

The trio jolted and looked down, gaping at the lone little colt who looked up at them looking the very picture oof innocence. 

“Cousin?” Sure Stroke asked. “As in blood relation, or—”

“One of our kin,” Enticier replied softly, eying Redwood a moment. “I had a feeling you weren’t quite what you appeared, young colt. But I didn’t want to pester you in front of your friends.”

Redwood smiled and waggled his ears. “I appreciate that. It would’ve been a little awkward explaining why two stallions I’ve never met were grilling me.”

“Indeed. If you don’t mind my asking, which—er—branch of the family you’re  a part of?”

A rather slick way of asking which hive. Clever.

The disguised nymph hummed and considered how to reply. “Well,” he began, “I was born and raised here in Manehattan, but my mother’s side has been known to go off wandering from time to time and father’s can be very enchanting. And you?”

Half Marauder, half Enchanter, then. And one of they who walked away from their hives in search of a life free of obligation should the Changeling Wars begin again. 

Aspire tapped a hoof against his chest and gave his reply, “While my family and I are very caring toward ponies we meet, my mothers side has some very enchanting qualities as well.”

“And I can be an enchanting one myself,” Enticier said with a smile.

Not one to be left out, Sure Stroke fidgeted between them and chipped in, “Aaaaaand my family is feathery.”

“And doodly,” Aspire and Enticier chimed in unison.

She turned to glare at the Prince of Enchanters. “Him, I expect. Don’t you start too!”

He simply waggled his ears. “Of course.”

Redwood beamed, quite clearly pleased with himself. “I had a feeling you were,” he said. “You both were very charming, even without any of our gifts. And Mister Aspire hurried everypoony inside and lingered to make sure no pony was caught out in the storm.” Looking up at Enticier, he wrinkled his snout. “Er, is Ent your actual name or is that short for something?”

A smirk played upon Enticier’s lips. He leaned down to Redwood’s level and began to whisper in his ear, his lips tugging into a grin as the disguised nymph’s jaw dropped in utter shock.

And why not? It wasn’t every day royalty waltzed into the neighborhood arcade and played games with a little nymph and his friends.

As Enticier drew back from Redwood, the nymph sputtered and made as though to bow his head, but stopped short, afraid to make a scene. Instead, he looked up at Enticier agape and stammered, “M-My parents would kill me if I didn’t invite you and your friends to dinner, sir.”

“No need to call me sir, Redwood.” Enticier waved him off. “And I’m afraid I don’t think that would be possible with this storm. We’ll need to get to their friends’s house quickly.”

“You can stay in the guest room in our penthouse!” Redwood offered. He reared up and clasped his little hooves together. “Oh, please! You just have to! My father would love to host you—his family hasn’t gotten the chance to hose yours since my great grandfather!”

Enticier gave a crooked, uneasy smile. No doubt warring with his want to please his little friend and a worry that he might inconvenience his others. He glanced between Redwood and Sure Stroke and Aspire a couple times, his eyes lingering on the latter pair in silent askance.

Turning to Sure Stroke, Aspire asked, “I’m okay with it if you are, honey.”

She barely had a split second before she found herself met with a full dose of pitiful foal eyes the likes of which only an Enchanter’s scion could manage. Eyes shimmering full of tears and pleading.

The poor mare never stood a chance.





The sun had just finished setting by the time the second band broke and passed them by. And yet, the clouds lingering overhead combined with the lights from all the surrounding buildings in the ever-restless city robbed them of the chance to see the stars dotting the night sky.

Grand Prize didn’t waste any time waiting after that message bearing the words “All clear, return home immediately” arrived. He ushered everyone outside, flanked by his teenage workers, and floated his ring of keys behind him so he could close up shop. Once he’d made sure everything was locked up tight, he turned to address his patrons.

“All right, everypony,” he said with a smile. “Thank you for behaving so well while we waited, you know I’m always glad to let you stick around during bad weather. Now, let’s organize ourselves into groups. If you came on the metro, form a line in front of me! If you came from east of thirteenth street, line up in front of Eight Bit and Snake Eyes!”

Aspire stood off to the side of the crowd with Sure Stroke and Enticier on either side of him, his ears standing erect so he could hear as much as possible over the chattering foals. With them, Redwood and his friends stood just a step in front, all together in a little group.

He leaned down to the disguised nymph’s level to murmur in his ear, “Which group are we waiting for?”

Redwood shook his head. “I’m gonna go talk to him and ask if it’s okay if we just go with you. Our building is only a few blocks away, anyway.”

Aspire bit his lip, two sides warred together in his head. On one hoof, if Redwood were his nymph or one of his students, he probably wouldn’t some strange ponies from who knows where to walk his son home in the middle of the night. On the other, well, if they were close, was there really any point in dallying?

Then again, he wasn’t some strange pony, nor was Sure Stroke. Not to Grand Prize, anyway.

If he remembered their faces after a couple years.

“Maybe we should go up with you,” Aspire offered. “Y’know. So he can see who you’re asking to go off with.”

Redwood made as though to wave him off, but stopped when one of his friends caught him by the elbow.

“Mister Prize really won’t like it if we just go off with somepony we don’t know without clearing it with him,” the smallest of their group said. 

“Hmm.” The little nymph brought a hoof to his chin. “Good point, Penny Pinch. Let’s get to him before he heads off to the metro station.”

Redwood motioned for them to follow along with a little toss of his head, then trotted on up, leading them past the crowd of foals milling about to get into their lines until he stood just a couple steps away from the portly stallion directing everyone about with all the practiced ease of a City Guard captain. With a cough, the little nymph looked up at the stallion and said, “Mister Prize? Can I borrow you for a moment?”

“Hmm?” Grand Prize’s ears twitched. He turned, his eyes flitting about a moment before he realized himself and turned his gaze down to the little one at his hooves. A smile spread across his features. “Ah, Redwood. I thought I saw you and your little friends running about my mini golf course today. Did you enjoy yourselves?”

“Sure did! And we made a couple new friends too!” The little nymph waggled his ears and gestured toward the adults with an excited wave of his hoof. “Look!”

And Grand Prize did look. He blinked a few times, tilting his head ever so slightly as he regarded the three adults standing before him through narrowed eyes. After a moment, he clicked his tongue. “Your faces seem familiar,” he said, gesturing to Aspire and Sure Stroke before he turned to shake his head at Enticier. “Sir, I’m sorry, but I don’t believe we’ve met.”

“Us? We haven’t,” Enticier confirmed, pointing to Aspire. “They brought me here for the first time today.”

As the stallion looked back at him, Aspire greeted him with a little nod. “Aspire and Sure Stroke, sir,” he answered before Grand Prize could ask. “It’s been a couple years.”

His ears stood up straight, recognition flashed across his face, bringing with it a broad grin. “Ahhhh, yes! Well, well, here’s trouble indeed in you two.”

Sure Stroke feigned a hurt look. “Trouble? Me?” She brought a hoof up to clutch her chest as if protecting her wounded heart. “I was innocent! This big lug and his sister were the masterminds!”

Grand Prize hummed and arched a brow. “Of course, of course.” Chuckling, he looked to Aspire and let out a whistle. “Big lug is right! You’ve shot up like a weed, Aspire! Is your sister around too?”

Smiling, Aspire shook his head. “Afraid not. She’s back home with Toola Roola. Sure Stroke and I came up to spend the day with Enticier, before we ran into these little miscreants.”

“Hey!” Redwood and his friends protested, puffing out their little cheeks.

The stallion threw back his head and laughed. “Miscreants is about right to call these four! Troublemakers almost as bad as you when you were that age.” Turning his attention to Redwood again, he arched a brow. “And what is it you need, little one? You should be over with Chocolate Swirl and Twisty Treat.”

Redwood shifted in place a bit, his taste tinged with just a hint of nerves in the face of an adult’s piercing look. “Er, well, I was going to ask if we could just head to our building with them.” He gestured to the adults, who nodded on cue.

“You see, as it turns out,” Enticier interjected smoothly, gently placing a hoof upon Redwood’s shoulder. “This little one’s father is a distant relative of mine whom I’ve not seen since we were foals, so he was kind enough to invite us to dine with his family. I took him up on the offer, of  course. I’d just hate to leave without saying hello.”

“Oh!” Grand Prize’s ears twitched. His smile returned in full. “Well, I suppose if he’s with a group of adults and each of them lives in the building, it does make sense. You’re familiar with how to get there?”

With a shake of his head and a rueful smile, Enticier looked the very picture of the tourist he truly was. “To be honest, we were going to have Redwood lead us. He seems rather sure it’s just a couple blocks down the street.”

“Ah, well, he’s quite right.” 

Grand Prize threw a hoof around Enticier’s shoulder like they were old friends and guided him to the sidewalk, facing eastward down twelfth street, where several rather large, well-off apartment buildings and condos rose up in the distance. “Go three blocks down twelfth and take a left at the light. It’ll be the big, cream yellow building on the opposite side of the street with the words Heart’s Haven on the side. You can’t miss it.”

“Ah, okay.” Fidgeting within the larger stallion’s grasp, Enticier patted his shoulder. “Much appreciated, sir. Have a good evening.”

“And you as well.” Grand Prize turned and trotted away, just in time to scold a couple fillies who were darting about and playing while they awaited his direction.

The Prince of Enchanters beckoned the others over so they could make their way to Redwood’s apartment. The little colt, himself, was positively giddy, tasting the air around him completely unnecessary with how he bounced on the tips of his hooves with each step.

Sure Stroke sidled up to him with a playful smirk. “You sly boy,” she crooned in his ear. “Distant relative, my cutie mark.”

“Hey, if it works.” Enticier shrugged, his smile unfaltering even as a hint of color bled into his cheeks. He feigned a cough and leaned down to nod to Redwood. “Well, lead on, little cousin. Let’s go see this home of yours.”

Aspire could’ve sworn Redwood’s smile was brighter than all the lights in Manehattan.