When Princess Twilight trotted into the breakfast hall of Canterlot Castle, rows of guards and servants were already there to meet her every need and whim. This was the place where, until recently, Princess Celestia would dine while her assistant, Raven, read her the daily schedule and informed her of any pressing matters as she partook of her meal of homemade, fruit-faced pancakes.
Once Twilight had taken the reins of power - a phrase she later discovered carried some highly problematic origins - her new kitchen staff informed her that they would be glad to spare her the trouble and prepare her an extravagant breakfast each and every morning if she so wished. The Royal Chefs were, in fact, elated that their skills at making breakfast would finally be put to use…
“Got em!” Spike said, bursting through the door as he carried a box over to her and set it on the table. “Half a dozen donuts and two coffees from Joe’s, just like you like em, Twilight!”
Elsewhere in Canterlot, the Royal Chefs shuddered instinctively. (In their sleep, that is. Insults to their professional pride notwithstanding, at least they got to sleep in late from now on.)
“Thank you, Spike!” Twilight replied sweetly as her dragon assistant took a seat next to her. She opened the box, and her smile faded slightly. “No strawberry iced?”
“Joe said they were out.”
“Hmph,” Twilight grunted, pouting. “Ruler of all Equestria and I can’t even get my favorite donut in the morning… Spike, do you think I can make a law requiring that one be reserved for me?”
“I think you can try, buuut it’d probably go over about as well as that time you tried to outlaw quesadillas.”
“Spike, we do not use the Q word around here!” Twilight shouted, pounding her hoof on the table. “You know that! Everyone knows that, don’t they?!”
“Of course we do, Princess!” said the entire gathering of guards and servants in urgent unison.
“Good… good…” Twilight said, easing back into her chair as she took out a chocolate donut and dunked it in her coffee.
(The debacle in question was rather too complicated to go over here, but it resulted in numerous public protests and the formation of a group of frantic quesadilla lovers who gathered secretly, dubbing themselves “Anonymous Q.” [It is believed, though unproven, that Discord was somehow involved.])
“All right, Spike, let’s go over morning business.”
“Sure thing!” Spike said, spraying crumbs as he gathered up some papers. “Let’s see… oh, there’s a new poll that asked what citizens think of your new egalitarian policies for Equestria. It says 63% of those polled approve of them, 12% are undecided, and 9% disapprove.”
“Hmm,” Twilight hummed. “Wait, that doesn’t equal 100%.”
“Uhhh…” Spike scanned down the page and read some fine print at the bottom. “It looks like the other 16% thought the word ‘egalitarian’ was a new word for griffins and got really confused.”
Twilight blinked. “Ah. ‘Eagle’-itarians.” She sighed. “Tell the Ministry of Education that I’m increasing their budget.”
“Again?”
“Yes, Spike, again.”
Spike made a note of that. “Let’s see… there’s a note from your personal trainer reminding you not to eat donuts for breakfast every day.”
Twilight put down her donut. “Oh, that’s right. Send her a reply telling her that I promise I will—”
“—start eating healthier starting tomorrow,” Spike finished, holding up a scroll. “I already wrote it down for you. Right after I finished writing down tomorrow’s breakfast order for Donut Joe.”
“And that’s why you’re still my number one!” Twilight chuckled, picking the donut back up.
(Twilight’s personal trainer had also formerly served under Princess Celestia, and she was the latest in a long succession of dieticians that had fretted about what their ruler was doing to her figure and health by eating pancakes and pastries every day. On one hoof, their concerns might have been valid, given that Celestia was well known to have one of the realm’s most… generous posteriors. But, on the other hoof, she’d certainly carried it well, and it was hard to take any of those trainers seriously when they kept saying Celestia was eating herself into an early grave only for her to outlive the hell out of the last two dozen of them.)
“Anything else?” Twilight asked, taking a decidedly un-Princess-like slurp of her coffee.
Spike frowned. “Uhhh, yeah, actually,” he said slowly. “You remember that one pony who keeps giving all the speeches?”
“Which one?”
“The pegasus who travels around in the balloon? The one who’s afraid of clouds?”
“Oh,” Twilight said with an exaggerated groan. “Of course. Thistle Whistle. What’s she saying this time? Is she still saying that the new National Broadcasting Initiative is giving ponies the feather flu with radio waves?”
“Yeah, but now she’s also saying that you’re secretly a changeling and that you’re therefore unqualified to be the ruler of Equestria.”
“Ugh… that pony is just the worst.”
A Gaurdspony stepped forward. “Would you like us to ‘take care of her,’ Your Majesty?”
“For the last time, no!” Twilight snapped. “This is a strictly ‘no assassination’ administration. Celestia never had to resort to that!”
“Sure, but Princess Luna—”
“We agreed not to talk about that!” Twilight shouted, flaring her wings dramatically.
“Man, we never get to do anything exciting,” muttered a member of the royal guard who’d lived through nine different dire threats to the nation. (It would have been ten, but he’d been on vacation during the Movie.)
“Okay, before we do anything else, I’m starting to worry that this Thistle Whistle is gaining in popularity, and all the news articles we’ve read just treat her like a joke and never report on the details of what she’s actually saying. I’m a brand new Princess, and I’m worried that she could be undermining our message of friendship and understanding with paranoia and misinformation! This could be a real problem!”
Spike nodded solemnly. “So, what should we do, Twilight?”
“I think we need somepony to investigate this, Spike. Get some hooves on the ground and get the real scoop!”
“Ooh! I’ll contact Pinkie Pie to get us some trenchcoats and fake mustaches!”
“No no, Spike,” Twilight said holding up her hoof. “Not that you aren’t… totally qualified to be a spy, but I think we should send somepony a little less conspicuous…”
“The Great and Powerful Trixie—”
Trixie felt a sharp jab in her barrel as Starlight gave her a stern glare. She looked and saw that several ponies in the crowd had turned to look at her.
“—puts on a very impressive show! Or so I hear as an impartial, unassociated member of the public!”
The ponies shrugged and turned away as they moved in closer to the makeshift stage set up in Manehattan Park.
“Now listen,” Starlight Glimmer hissed through gritted teeth as she leaned in close to Trixie, “Twilight asked us to investigate this whackjob pony for her because we’re way less famous than her or her friends, so we don’t want to be recognized or noticed in any way, Trixie!”
“First of all, the name is the Average and Inconspicuous Dixie Lulastache,” she said stroking her fake mustache (Pinkie had given her one despite not even being informed about the situation), “and Dixie is perfectly capable of blending in with a crowd… Mr. Perkins,” she added with a wink.
“I did not agree to that codename, and I’m not even wearing a disguise other than wearing a fake cutie mark.” Starlight jerked her head backward, indicating the cutie mark she’d had painted on her flank (which was of a large earthen pot with a noticeable fissure down it). “Let’s just listen to what this Thistle Whistle has to say and get back to Ponyville—”
“Ahem.”
Starlight sighed. “—and get back to ‘Discreetsylvania.’”
“Right,” said ‘Dixie.’ “And then we can send that dumb report to Twilight Sparkle.”
The pony in front of them turned around to face them, his eyebrow raised.
“...who is totally a changeling!”
“Ha! Yeah she is!” the pony exclaimed eagerly.
There was a shrill whistle and the crowd went silent (or at least everypony was less able to hear themselves as the whistle was loud enough to be deafening). At the front of the crowd was a stage made of several crates stacked on top of each other. Resting on the stage was a hot air balloon that had been staked to the ground, and, once the crowd had quieted, a pegasus mare with a blue coat and a pink and yellow mane suddenly burst forth from the basket with a great flourish.
“My fellow Equestrians!” shouted the mare as she hoisted herself over the side of the basket and walked to the middle of the stage. She gave an impressed whistle as she scanned the crowd. “It sure is great to see so many ponies - and just ponies, I’m only saying what we’re all thinking! - who are ready to hear the truth about what’s happening to our nation!”
Starlight narrowed her eyes. “Oh buck me, this is gonna be painful,” she muttered.
(It should be noted that Thistle Whistle, despite many ponies’ initial impressions, was perfectly capable of flight. Her wings were indeed strong enough to support her, and while she was a bit awkward in the air, nothing was preventing her from traveling from city to city on her own wing power. The reason she traveled by balloon, according to her, was because the natural fibers of the balloon’s basket blocked the fumes from the clouds, which she claimed were filled with secret chemicals planted there by Cloudsdale that did everything from making ponies less intelligent to making stallions less masculine and more likely to reject perfectly fertile pegasi mares who were still in the prime of their life thank you very much.)
“My friends!” Thistle Whistle shouted. “I have come here to tell you that our Princess, Twilight Sparkle, may not be who you think she is! Day by day, though it pains me to say it, I become more and more convinced that she is… a changeling!”
A roar went up from the crowd.
Then the pony who brought his pet manticore apologized, and everypony else resumed cheering.
“Now, some of you might be wondering,” Thistle Whistle continued, “how I came to this conclusion. Well, just think for a moment, ponies… Twilight Sparkle was imitated by changelings on two separate occasions, correct? How do we know she wasn’t replaced by a changeling on either of those occasions? Suspicious!”
A murmur went through the crowd.
“And who knows if it doesn’t go back even further? What I want is proof that there ever was a real Twilight Sparkle! I demand to see a birth certificate!”
“What.”
The crowd turned to face the pony who had just said that very flat and very loud “what,” and that pony was Starlight Glimmer, who froze where she stood.
“You there!” Thistle Whistle hollered, pointing a hoof in Starlight’s direction. “Do you have something to say?”
“Oh, my apologies, Miss Whistle,” Trixie said, “but my husband Mr. Perkins is all a bit new to this. But not me. The Average and Inconspicuous Dixie Lulastache is a true believer and trusts what you say implicitly!”
“Hey, if your husband is ‘Mr. Perkins,’ why isn’t your name Perkins too?” asked a nearby stallion.
“The Average and Inconspicuous Dixie kept his maiden name.”
“Oh, that’s very modern,” said another nearby pony as others nodded in approval.
“Well, Mr. Perkins,” Thistle Whistle continued, “what exactly is your issue?”
Mr. Perkins swallowed. He wondered how he’d gotten himself into this mess and let himself get roped into a life with Dixie when he should have gone back to med school and become a phlebotomist like his father wanted back in the good old days before he’d died in that tragic lawn dart accident.
Wait, what?? Oh, darn it, Starlight, they’re all looking at you, say something!
“I’m sorry,” Starlight said, “but Twilight Sparkle did release her birth certificate. A while ago. Nopony even asked her to.”
“Ah ha!” Thistle Whistle said. “And did you notice that it didn’t say ‘Not a Changeling’ on it? Double suspicious!”
The crowd gasped and began to chatter about this shocking revelation.
“But it says ‘Unicorn’ on it!” Starlight cried, now too invested/indignant to remember that she was supposed to be keeping a low profile.
“Ah ha yet again!” Thistle Whistle laughed. “And yet she now has wings! First she had none, and now she has not one but two?! Extra suspicious!!”
“But she’s an alicorn!” Starlight roared.
“Oh poor, misguided Mr. Perkins!” Thistle Whistle moaned dramatically as the crowd laughed. “Whoever heard of somepony spontaneously becoming an alicorn? You know what I think… I think that sounds a lot like transformation. And do you know who else transforms?”
“Kirins!” shouted a mare from the front of the crowd.
“No! I mean, yes, but who else?”
“Well, seaponies and hippogryphs can—”
“No, my friends! This can only be the work of… a changeling! Uber suspicious!”
The crowd erupted into a frenzy as cries filled the air: “I knew it!” “She’s a monster come to feast on our love!” “The Princess is a sham!” “Wait, what the hell does ‘uber’ mean?”
Mr. Perkins/Starlight rubbed her temples. “This is utterly ridiculous. Tri—er, Dixie, let’s just… Dixie?”
Trixie was staring up at Thistle Whistle, utterly mesmerized to the point that she hadn’t even noticed that her mustache had come slightly unglued. “It all makes sense,” she muttered. “Dixie never realized before, but now… now his eyes are open!”
“Oh for pony’s sake,” Starlight groaned. “The only thing I can’t understand is why Thistle Whistle would do this. What’s her angle? Is she going to challenge Twilight? Does she want to rule Equestria? Or—”
“And now!” Thistle Whistle shouted (after whistling to gain the crowd’s attention), “I’d like to invite all of you up to the stage so I can offer you some of these all-natural products made from essential oils! Not only will they protect you from changeling influence, but they’ll also improve your vigor, help you sleep better, or help you stay awake! You name it, these will cure it!”
“Ooh, ooh, Dixie needs some of that!” Trixie shouted, shoving her way to the front of the crowd.
“I’m also selling my friend Minty’s all-natural wool socks!” Thistle proclaimed proudly.
“Dixie will take three!”
“You… you mean three pairs, I assume, because—”
“Dixie knows what Dixie said!”
Twilight furrowed her brow as she looked over Starlight’s report. She took a bite of her donut and chewed thoughtfully.
“Well, that explains this whole mess,” she muttered through a wad of Prench Crueller.
“I’ll say,” Spike said, rolling his eyes. “I was wondering why so many ponies around Canterlot were wearing three socks with the other hoof bare. Rarity just said it was ‘high fashion and you simply don’t understand haute couture, Spikey-Wikey.’”
“Oh, your impression is getting better!” Twilight remarked with a smile.
Spike swelled with pride.
“Well, that still leaves the matter of what to do with this Thistle Whistle pony,” Twilight said, leaning back in her chair. “Every attempt at fighting this disinformation is just likely to lead to new conspiracy theories. And things are just getting nuttier. You know, somepony at that charity function yesterday demanded I give him a sample of my blood so he could electrify it to make sure I wasn’t ‘one of those things.’ I hate to think how this is affecting the actual changelings!”
“I heard some ponies think they’re faking the whole reformation thing. And that Queen Chrysalis wasn’t turned to stone. And the statue in Canterlot Gardens is actually made of chocolate.”
“Ugh!” Twilight groaned. “There’s got to be an easier way to deal with this!”
The Guardspony from a few days ago stepped forward. “You know, Princess, I hear Miss Whistle is flying over Ghastly Gorge tomorrow. If her balloon were to somehow lose altitude…”
“Hey!” Spike shouted, pointing a claw at the guard. “You heard Twilight! No assassinations! Right, Twilight?”
Twilight said nothing. Her eyes were intent, but she didn’t appear to be staring at anything at all.
“Twilight? Hey, Twilight, I said—”
“Quiet, Spike!” Twilight snapped. “Just… let me think about it…”
After hearing a knock at her cottage door, Fluttershy opened it tentatively. “Um… hello?”
A mustachioed blue pony smiled at her. “Hello, ma’am! My name is Dixie! Your neighbors tell me that you love all things natural, and boy do I have some products for you!”
Fluttershy raised an eyebrow. “Um, Trixie, I don’t want to be rude, but this is the third time you’ve come here this week. For the last time, lavender oil will not cure Angel Bunny’s worms!”
She shut the door in Trixie’s face.
“You’re just brainwashed by Big Pharma!” Trixie shouted. “And all the other pharmacists in this town, not just him!” She heaved a sigh. “Now, how is Dixie going to move 398 more samples? Dixie needs that personalized coffee mug!”