The nervous march of Pharynx’s hooves on stone provided a dissonant percussion to the carol Thorax was absently humming. Thorax’s wings buzzed as he flew about the tree, letting it swing gently from the pulley that held it up as he adorned it with useless colorful baubles. Pharynx spared them a glance; perhaps they could be filled with some sort of defensive weapon, an area denial substance like caustic slime or caltrops, then thrown like…
Pharynx blinked, then sighed, before returning to his pacing. He wasn’t supposed to think like that as much. He’d promised. It still irked, though; just like the rest of the so-called festive decorations adorning the stalactites and stalagmites of the cave home he shared with his brother. The bright greens and reds made him cranky.
Still, there was a petty sort of glee as he allowed the cadence of his hoofbeats to offset Thorax’s song. If he had to put up with this stupid pony holiday, he could at least be aggravating about it.
“She should have been home by now.” Pharynx called out, pausing in his pacing.
“Twenty-six,” Thorax said idly. Pharynx looked up at the suspended tree and growled at his brother.
“It’s true, though. She should have been here an hour ago.”
“Twenty-seven, now,” Thorax said, and gave a sigh of his own as he buzzed down to land next to Pharynx. “I know you’re worried. But you need to relax.”
“Worried?” Pharynx shoved Thorax away with a hoof. “I never said I was worried! Ocellus is the first changeling to live outside of the Hive since we changed. Having her out by herself is a strategic weakness and an ongoing security threat! Any number of enemies could hurt Ocellus, or kidnap her and force us to…”
“Pharynx,” Thorax held out a hoof to his brother. “It’s okay to be worried about her. I am too.”
“I told you, I’m not…”
“Do we need to have another conversation about the strategic value of being diplomatically close to other races? About the security that comes with having Ocellus and her connections to the dragons, the griffons, the hippogriffs, and the yaks?”
“No.”
“Well then, I don’t think this nervousness is really about Ocellus’ exposure as a strategic weakness, is it?” Thorax said triumphantly. “Just admit you’re worried, and then come help me decorate the tree.” He smiled. “If it helps, half of these glass balls are filled with a quick-acting knockout gas I got from one of Starlight’s alchemist friends. The blue ones.”
“Really?” Pharynx perked up.
“It’s Hearth’s Warming, Pharynx. Think of it as one of my gifts to you.”
Pharynx opened his mouth, then closed it again. “I… I didn’t get you anything.”
“You keep all of my changelings safe,” Thorax said, and before Pharynx could protest he was pulled into a hug. It was mercifully quick, though Pharynx still had to check to make sure no one else was watching. Who would be, in their own private family home? But Pharynx still felt the flash of embarrassment. “That’s all the gift I need.”
It wasn’t often that Thorax spoke possessively of their people. Usually only in private, between the two of them. But Pharynx knew just how much Thorax cared for all of them.
Still, though, he had an image to maintain. Even in private. “Whatever. You said it, so now you can’t get mad when I don’t have a present for you. You know, if…”
A flash of green fire lit up the room. For a moment, Pharynx thought that perhaps Thorax had transformed into something, though he couldn’t begin to imagine why. But then a scroll appeared in the air in front of Thorax, bound in a ribbon and complete with a wax seal. Thorax picked it up.
“The seal’s from Princess Twilight’s school,” he said, cracking the seal with a hoof. His eyes darted about as he scanned the paper. “It’s from the Princess, about Ocellus. She…”
“What?” Pharynx demanded impatiently. But Thorax read silently, his lips moving without noise. Finally, he wordlessly handed the letter to Pharynx.
Pharynx stared at the graceful, precise script on the page. His brow furrowed as he read, his expression darkening with each word. Finally he crumpled the page and met eyes with his brother.
“I have to go get her.”
“Pharynx…”
“You read the letter! She’s being imprisoned! For a crime she didn’t commit!” Pharynx slammed a hoof on the floor. “It’s an act of aggression against the entire Hive! We must respond!”
“Don’t you think you’re…”
“I swear, Thorax, if you say I’m overreacting, I’ll chop down this ‘tree’ monstrosity and use it as target practice for the nymphs learning to puke resin.” If Pharynx was being honest with himself, he really was overreacting. Deliberately. Thorax was usually a good king, but sometimes he had to be shocked out of indecision. Pharynx didn’t mind using extreme behaviors to do it.
Thorax glared at him for a second, before a light came on behind his eyes. With a musing expression, he looked up at the tree, and with a deep, grating sound in his throat, hacked a sticky glob of resin at the trunk. The bright green goo oozed over the bark, a stark contrast with the brown.
“Hmm. Festive.” Thorax gave a small smile. “And now your threat has no fangs, Pharynx. Maybe it should be a new tradition! I’ll let the nymphs know tomorrow.” He was always looking for new and different ways to celebrate the pony holiday.
“And you’re changing the subject. We have to mount a rescue for Ocellus.”
“You read the same letter I did, Pharynx. And I’ve never known Twilight Sparkle to prevaricate. I’m not sure Ocellus would be willing to come back with you.” Thorax wasn’t looking at his brother; his eyes were up at the tree above him. He tweaked the rope a few times, making the pulley jerk around and causing the tree to begin rotating, slowly. With his eyes narrowed, Thorax spat a few times until the trunk and roots were polka-dotted neon green.
“Why aren’t you angrier about this? A changeling has been kidnapped, imprisoned for something she didn’t do, and you’re just…” Pharynx’s hoof waved at the tree. “…decorating!”
“If you absolutely have to go, I won’t stop you, Pharynx,” Thorax still wasn’t looking at him, focusing casually on his handiwork as the ooze slowly dripped off the tree onto the stone floor. “I’m going to need a pair of promises from you before you go, though. Sworn on the egg that bore you.”
That made Pharynx hesitate. He’d been ready to spring off the floor, his wings twitching. But despite Thorax’s casual mien, the oath he asked for betrayed how serious he was.
“What promises?”
“I think you’re overreacting, and that Ocellus is fine. I think she stayed by choice, just like Twilight said. And I think you’ll get there and she’ll tell you the same thing. So I want you to promise that if she says all that, you come home. You don’t force her to come back.”
“I promise,” Pharynx said. That was easy.
“And for the second, I want you to promise to keep a low profile. I’d rather not cause an international incident just because you refuse to believe in the goodwill of other creatures.”
“What if I’m right?” Pharynx’s wings were already buzzing. He was ready to leave. Immediately.
“You’re welcome to rescue her.” There was something aggravating about Thorax’s quiet confidence. At the same time, though, Pharynx wanted his brother to be right.
“Fine. I promise.”