//------------------------------// // Chapter 12 // Story: Mendacity // by Dromicosuchus //------------------------------// Deep within the labyrinth of the Canterlot caves, Princess Mi Amore Cadenza stood with her head pressed flat against a crystal wall, straining to hear the distant sounds reverberating through the rock. Her senses, sharper than those of a normal, mortal pony, could detect the muffled echoes of goings-on all over the Canterhorn, conducted from vast distances through the solid stone. There was the deep, creaking groan of the towering bulk of the mountain twisting and bending ever-so-slightly in the winds that whipped about it—there was the confused and muted roar of a thousand pony hooves, trotting up and down the cobblestone streets of Canterlot—and there, faint but still horribly distinct, was the sound of a wedding ceremony being conducted in one of the upper halls of the Solar Chapel. Her wedding ceremony, stolen from her by the same creature that had stolen her face, her body, her life—and that would soon steal her husband. She raised her head, looking hopelessly up towards the rocky ceiling above, and groaned in frustration. “We’re never going to save him!” Twilight Sparkle looked back over her shoulder and smiled encouragement. “We will. We just have to find…” Her voice trailed off as she raised her head again, scanning the cave around her. The crystal walls here were strangely reflective, and she was having some trouble picking out the real exit from among the multitude of false reflections. That one, though…yes. That was it. “There!” A starburst of fuchsia magic surrounded both unicorn and alicorn—Twilight was far more practiced at magic than Bon Bon had ever been—and the pair blinked out of existence. A moment later they reappeared almost directly beneath the cavern exit, blinking in the daylight shining down through the crevice overhead. This was it! They had done it! They were going to— The trio of enchanted bridesmaids trotted forward, their eyes burning with livid green light. They smiled grimly and chorused, “You’re not going anywhere.” The little unicorn stepped forward, her horn already sparking with a powerful spell, but Cadence raised a hoof to hold her back. “Twilight, no! The queen’s enchantment will make them kill themselves if we force our way past.” Twilight’s head whipped around to look at her companion. “What!? Then what can we—YAAah!” She leapt back in surprise. A vivid green flash flared forth in the chamber as a crackling web of magic blasted out from a nearby cluster of crystals, slamming into the three bridesmaids and sending them skidding off to the left in a confused tangle. What looked like a pale, tattered unicorn mare, her mane bedraggled and her horn still glimmering with green foxfire, stumbled out from her hiding place, panting heavily. She raised a weary head towards the two astonished escapees, and snarled, “Tell no one and nopony I was here. You overpowered the bridesmaids and escaped on your own, got it?” Cadence stammered, “But I—what—who—how?” “How?” Bon Bon swished her tail in exasperation. “Sun and Moon, I don’t care how! They’re bridesmaids, for Celestia’s sake. You can say you distracted them by tossing a bouquet at them, for all I care. Just one question. Can either of you lift the Glamour that’s been laid on them? It’s strong, fueled by stolen love and built by the changeling queen.” The two ponies stared blankly at her, and Twilight said, “…Glamour?” Well, it hadn’t been much of a hope anyway. “Right, never mind. Just go! Hurry! You don’t have much time to stop the queen.” Princess Cadence stared in bemusement at the strange mare, and then spread her wings in preparation for flight and beckoned to Twilight to hop on her back, apparently content to not look a gift horse—so to speak—in the mouth. Twilight, however, hesitated. She seemed to find something about Bon Bon’s appearance confusing. The changeling raised an eyebrow and snapped, “Well? Are you going or aren’t you?” “I’m going, but…don’t I know you? You look really familiar.” Bon Bon stared at the unicorn for a moment, and then slapped her forehead with her hoof. “Oh no…Right, of course, you’re Twilight Sparkle from the Ponyville library. Princess Celestia’s protégée. Fantastic.” She lowered her hoof. “Yes, you do know me. I’m Bon Bon, I make sweets, I live with Lyra the lyre player, yes that’s Lyra over there, no I don’t usually have a horn, please don’t ask any questions. Neither of us has time for it.” She directed a sharp stare at Twilight. “Do we, now?” The unicorn mare stood irresolute for a moment, and then shook her head. “No, I guess we don’t.” She hurried to the alicorn’s side, and scrambled awkwardly on to her back. As the two of them rose slowly into the air, the alicorn straining to lift their combined weight, Twilight called, “If you can, come by the library! I have some questions I want to ask you!” Bon Bon gave a small smile but said nothing as she watched as the two ponies rise up through the vertical shaft to the outside world. When she was certain that the alicorn would be able to bear the burden and that they really had escaped, she turned and scrambled over to Lyra and the other two unicorns. Please, please let her be okay—the spell blast mixed with a little bewildering Glamour was all she had been able to think of, and she had tried to make it as gentle as she could, but that had been a hard fall and there were sharp rocks everywhere and what if Lyra had really been hurt and… Her pace slowed. Thank Celestia, she could see Lyra’s sides moving. She was breathing. They were all breathing. And stirring, too, as a matter of fact. Hm. Chrysalis’ power was fighting off the effects of her own Glamour even faster than she had expected. The unicorns’ eyes snapped open, and in a flurry of limbs they righted themselves, horns sparking. Lyra turned to face Bon Bon with an expression that was a disturbing mix of fury, relief, and fear. “We didn’t get them, Oh thank Celestia, wait, is that a horn—Where are they what did you do with—Bon Bon, get out, I don’t know what I’ll do, I don’t know what they’ll do—They can’t escape no one escapes they will rot where are they where are they!?” The changeling skittered back, hooves clattering on the stone, as the enchanted unicorns advanced. “Lyra, I can’t just leave!” “It’s not—where are they—safe, Bon Bon, run—Where are they!—Run!—WHERE ARE THEY!?” “Lyra, please! It’s over! They escaped! They’re outside the caves, there’s no chance of stopping them now!” The three unicorns paused, staring fixedly at Bon Bon. She remained as she was, limbs frozen in place and breath coming in short, shallow gulps. The Glamour in their eyes flared, and then, as one, their heads swung around to look up at the rift in the cave ceiling. The light-bodied, pink-maned unicorn Bon Bon had impersonated in Canterlot—Twinkleshine, if she remembered correctly—intoned, “Their hoofprints end below the light, and there are wingmarks in the silt.” The second unicorn, a blue mare with a short, rough mane, said, “Their magic cannot be felt within the caves.” And then Lyra, her face expressionless but her voice thrumming with suppressed relief, said, “They are gone.” They stood like that, limbs held unnaturally straight and heads held unnaturally high, for a moment longer, and then with the suddenness of a candle being snuffed the twisting, writhing Glamour in their eyes guttered and died. Their eyes rolled back in their heads, every muscle in their limbs and bodies slackened as if a thousand tiny marionette strings had been cut, and their limp bodies collapsed to the cold cave floor, tumbling and sprawling over one another like dolls abandoned by a capricious foal. Bon Bon’s ears flattened in fear. “Lyra!” Her hooves kicked against the crystal floor as she darted over to her marefriend’s side and gingerly lifted her up. The unicorn was breathing shallowly, if at all. No, no—please, Celestia, no… She bent her ear to her marefriend’s chest, listening. Hoofsteps sounded behind her, and the absurd Glamour-crafted head of Rambo McMacho—or rather, Rambo Studchunks—peered over Bon Bon’s shoulder. In a tone of polite interest, the kelpie inquired, “Is she dead?” Bon Bon listened, and waited—and waited, and listened—and then her face wrinkled into an exhausted smile, her eyes scrunching shut as tears welled up within them. “Oh, thank Celestia.” She clutched Lyra’s body to her own, feeling the warmth of her marefriend’s body and the slight movement of her lungs as the unicorn began to breathe again. “She’s alive.” The thing called Snowflake eyed the two of them, her head cocked to one side, and then asked, “Why does it matter?” To her own very great surprise, Bon Bon managed to resist the urge to throttle the kelpie. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.” “Well, I didn’t mean it like that.” Aldrovanda ambled around the two mares and back into the changeling’s field of vision. Staring at the unconscious unicorn nervously, as if she had only just noticed some strange and unnerving quality in her appearance, the kelpie continued, “She’s just going to die in two years. …Or wait, would that be two hundred? I never can remember how long the little vermin live. At any rate, though, what’s the point? Sooner or later, she’ll die. Why is a life like that worth anything at all? What does one do with a mortal life?” And now they were back to the death thing again. Save the world, rescue her true love, and provide psychotherapy to a kelpie. One of these, thought Bon Bon, was not like the others. “You live. You learn.” She stroked Lyra’s mane with her hoof. “You love. And eventually you die.” “How inspirational.” Licking her lips hesitantly, Aldrovanda said, “But how do they stand it? The fear, I mean? Why don’t they all just collapse into mewling puddles of despair whenever they remember what’s waiting for them?” Bon Bon rolled her eyes. “It’s easier after the first few dozen fits of existential dread. You get numb to the idea.” “Ah. I see. Numb. Yes.” The kelpie considered this. “Purely as a matter of curiosity, about how long does it take for this numbness to set in? How many minutes are we talking, here?” “I don’t know, it varies. Probably a couple of million. Did you say something?” In a voice that was several registers above even her usual screech, Aldrovanda answered, “I just said ‘gleep!’ I felt like saying it. Sometimes I feel like saying things. This time I felt like saying ‘gleep!’ Several million?” “That adds up to a few years, right? I’m probably low-balling it, come to think of it. Some ponies prefer to just go into denial.” “That’s an option?” The kelpie twitched her ears up in interest. “Why didn’t you say so? That’s not hard at all. Anyone can do denial. Yes indeed.” She paused for a few moments, considering, and then in a reflective tone she repeated, “Anyone can do denial.” “Mm. Go check the others.” There was no disgust or annoyance in Bon Bon’s voice, which was a shame, because it felt somehow wrong to be talking to the Shee without simultaneously wanting to kill her. Somehow, though, as she cradled Lyra in her hooves, alive and whole, the changeling found that she just couldn’t seem to muster up any bitterness right now. The kelpie trotted over to one of the other ponies, sniffed, and said, “Alive and fast asleep. Insert witticism here.” Bon Bon blinked. “What?” “Oh come now, you can’t expect me to come up with glittering repartee without pause. Even the best and brightest must needs rest their rapier tongues every now and again. Oh, and this one’s alive too, and just as unconscious.” She chuckled. “That idiot changeling. All power, and no subtlety. Hardly the sort of thing one hopes for from a queen of the Shee.” Somewhat reluctantly, Bon Bon tore her gaze away from Lyra, and turned to look at the kelpie, who had just noticed that a pebble had gotten glued to her tail tip and was trying to bite through the hairs attached to it. “What do you mean?” Sharp teeth slid together with a snap, and the offending hairs and pebble were removed. Rambo Studchunks craned her head over her shoulder, trying to see if she had picked up anything else. “Well, it’s obvious what happened, yes? Her Scrawniness gave them all manner of instructions what to do while her prisoners were in the caves, but she never bothered to give them any rules for what to do if the prisoners ever got out.” She gestured to the comatose pony by her side. “The Glamour tried to deal with that, and wasn’t even able to comprehend it, metaphorically speaking. And then schlaact!” The kelpie made a noise rather like a cat trying to regurgitate a hairball, which was presumably supposed to be an onomatopoeia of some sort. “The spell popped like a rotting frog in the sun—and since it was locked into their juicy little pony brains, down they went too. Tragically, I doubt there’s much that can be done about it. They’ll just stay like this until something eats them or they die of thirst—and if it should come to that, by the by, I vote the first option; it’s both far more merciful and far tastier. No, there’s not much hope left.” Laying peculiar stress on her words, the kelpie added, “Why, it would take a miracle to save them now.” Bon Bon said nothing, her head bent over Lyra and her brow creased in thought. Beefy McMacho waited a few moments, and then repeated, “I said, it would take a miracle to save them now. As in, a nice, impressive miracle should probably be the next order of business.” No response. Snowflake, née Beefy McMacho, née Rambo Studchunks, née Utricularia the shellycoat, née Aldrovanda the kelpie, frowned. “That was a conversational nicety which I believe is referred to as a ‘hint,’ but you appear not to have gotten my drift. Allow me to continue snowing. The laws of physics, reality, and sanity are in your way, and I want you to vanquish them.” She lowered herself down to the damp cave floor, reclining catlike—or pot-bellied pig-like, considering her current shape—with her forehooves crossed, and continued, “Vanquish them so I can watch.” Bon Bon glanced up at the kelpie. “Sorry, I have a strict ‘One Miracle per Day’ policy.” “Ah.” The Kelpie of Too Many Names considered this. “So should I come back tomorrow, then?” “Not if you’re hoping for a miracle.” Bon Bon’s gaze drifted back down to Lyra. The unicorn’s tousled mane hung stiffly over her horn and half-covered her eyes. She looked so peaceful now, so calm. The changeling smiled a strange, bittersweet smile. “No more miracles for me. It’s over, kelpie. The alicorn and Sparkle will warn the Princesses, and against them—well, Chrysalis doesn’t stand a chance. The entire invasion should be over in a few hours, and then it’ll be safe to come out and get help. Perhaps the alicorn imprisoned here couldn’t do anything, but I can’t imagine that the Princesses won’t be able to cure them. I’ll wait a bit, grow wings—I’ve got enough strength for that, at least, thanks to Lyra—find Princess Luna, ask her for help—“ “Is that not a bit redundant?” Bon Bon tilted her head in puzzlement. “I don’t follow.” “Well, it’s your business, of course.” The Shee gave an enormous yawn, triangular lizard-like teeth gleaming in her cavernous mouth. She smacked her lips several times, eyes half-lidded, and grinned. “But quite frankly, I do not see the logic in telling this Luna to come down here when I’ve already done so myself, as per your instructions.” Bon Bon blinked several times in rapid succession. “What are—I don’t—Oh, for goodness’ sake. Look, kelpie, at this point I honestly don’t care much if you lie to me or not, but I would at least like for the lies to make sense. Just—tell me what you’re trying to manipulate me into doing. It’ll be easier for both of us, believe me.” “Lie? Me?” The kelpie’s head snapped upright, goatish eyes wide in innocent surprise. “The soul of honesty? The ne plus ultra of sincerity? My dear Bon Bon, you wrong me.” She raised herself to her hooves with a grunt and stretched. “Naturally I told the moon pony that you were down here. I may not be the brightest Shee in the world—although I probably am, mind you—but if not I hope, at least, that I’m intelligent enough to follow simple instructions.” Snowflake, possibly, gestured vaguely towards the floor of the cave. “I imagine the princess is down in the darksome deeps right now, still searching away for you and your—“ Bon Bon directed a cockatrice glare at the kelpie, and she faltered and finished, somewhat lamely, with, “—Er, that is to say, for the both of you.” “Right, sure, of course. And I imagine you also told her that the pink alicorn was really a changeling?” With an apologetic shrug and a wistful sigh, the bulky white not-pony said, “Sadly, no. As I said, I can easily follow simple instructions like ‘Tell the moon pony I’m under Canterlot and need rescuing,’ but regrettably ‘Tell the moon pony I’m under Canterlot and need rescuing, and also tell her that some individual or other is really Chrysalis,’ qualified as complex instructions and thus was beyond my poor capabilities. Rest assured, though, I did tell her that you were in need of aid and succor. I told her like the dickens. You would have been proud of how thoroughly I told her. And since you seem, inexplicably, inclined to distrust me, I see no other option but to back up my statements….” The kelpie paused theatrically. Her short, crew cut mane lengthened, falling in dripping waves of waterwheel, bladderwort, and pondweed over her suddenly bony body. Her white coat blackened and shrunk, and her bulging muscles turned into branches, fractured sheets of glass, sodden upholstery, an empty turtle shell, and a saddlebag. False legs shrank back into her body and true, pebble-coated legs unfolded, and as her tail flowed out to its old length, she curled it forward, holding its tip in front of her face. Dangling from a few of the longest threads of hair—or perhaps waterweed, it was nearly impossible to tell—was a hollow glass globe. Aldrovanda grinned a toothy grin, and finished, “…With proof.” With whip-crack suddenness, the kelpie swung her long tail downwards, smacking the tip against the damp floor. The tiny sphere shattered with a pure, anechoic tone. Shards of curved glass skittered away across the rock, and Bon Bon knelt to examine one that had come to rest near one of her forehooves. It had been etched with a thin, curving line, rather like the crescent of a new moon. There was the sound of hoofsteps, and the changeling raised her head to see that Aldrovanda had trotted over to the edge of the platform upon which they were standing, and was squinting down into the darkness below. She turned to look at Bon Bon. “There, see? She’s coming already. You were right about her mane, you know. Remarkably like the night sky.” Now thoroughly confused, Bon Bon stepped hesitantly to the brink of the pit, careful to keep a few yards between herself and the kelpie in case this was some sort of bizarre ploy to push her off the edge. “Aldrovanda, I don’t see anythi…” She trailed off. Reflected in her eyes was the light of distant, impossible stars, shining up from the cavernous blackness below. In a voice oozing with more smug satisfaction than should have been physically possible, Aldrovanda said, “I do believe a certain changeling owes a certain kelpie an apology.” Still staring at the approaching patch of starlight, Bon Bon stammered, “But you betrayed me! You said you told Chrysalis—but you told Princess Luna too—and—Oh my head.” Hooves wrapped in stone clinked against the cave floor as Aldrovanda turned and sauntered away from the precipice, the detritus clinging to her body swaying and rattling around her. “I admit, I did intend to betray your treason to your queen and leave it at that.” She hoisted herself up on top of the crystal ridge that she and Bon Bon had concealed themselves behind earlier, and turned to look back at the changeling. Her goatish eyes gleamed. “But then, repulsive and abhorrent as you are—no offense intended, of course, I merely mention it—I can’t say that I admire the Unseelie Court much more. They’re just so demanding. ‘Be more ferocious, Aldrovanda.’ ‘Report on the changeling, Aldrovanda.’ ‘Don’t be so lazy, Aldrovanda.’ ‘Don’t eat the crown prince, Aldrovanda.’ It’s always wearied me, and I couldn’t resist getting a little of my own back and spoiling at least some of their plans. Ignoble of me, no doubt.” With a clattering thud, the kelpie dropped out of view, and there was the sound of receding hoofsteps as she trotted off into the shadows. Faintly, Bon Bon heard her call back, “But what can I say? You just made treachery look so fun.” ----- Princess Luna arrived shortly afterwards, sweeping up out of the abyss in a rush of shadows, starlight, and majesty. Bon Bon, who was still feeling the effects of Aldrovanda’s company, found it a little difficult to explain things to the alicorn, but eventually she managed to communicate the fact that Yes, she was “the Fae who spoke to us near a se’enight past,” and that an alicorn princess had been imprisoned, but had escaped not long before Luna herself had arrived. Luna took this in fairly composedly—although upon hearing that the alicorn at Canterlot was an imposter, her wings did twitch briefly, as if she were about to take flight—and after looking at the sleeping Twinkleshine nearby and casting a stern glance in Bon Bon’s direction, the princess set her horn aglow and began to work at the fragmented Glamour hobbling their minds. It was a tense time for Bon Bon. Quite apart from Luna’s habit of muttering unnerving observations to herself while she worked (“A curious charm, this.” “A pox upon it, that was not supposed to happen.” “I don’t believe I have ever seen the likes of this magic before.”), the changeling’s peace of mind was not helped by some of the extremely pointed questions that the princess directed at the ponies as they recovered. Lyra, who she revived first, she seemed content not to question too closely, although Bon Bon noticed that princess kept an ear half-turned towards her and her marefriend while she cured the other two ponies. She seemed particularly interested in a portion of their conversation that followed almost immediately after the two ponies had gotten past the first few moments of crying and comforting. Lyra had wiped her eyes on Bon Bon’s mane (and her nose, a little bit, but considering things the changeling didn’t really mind), drawn back from their embrace, and looked her marefriend up and down. Then, in a voice that was just a little bit too jaunty, she said, “So! You have a horn, now.” This was not going to be fun. Bon Bon sighed. “Yes. Yes, I do.” This was not going to be fun in so very, very many ways. After waiting for something more and receiving nothing, Lyra prompted, “And, uh, what’s up with that?” Bon Bon opened her mouth, closed it, and then averted her eyes, her face pinched and her ears flattened in shame. She had known she would have to have this talk; why couldn’t that foreknowledge have made this any less horrible? Several seconds passed. Lyra’s forced smile faded. “No. Just no. Bon Bon, this isn’t the same thing as you having weird fits every so often, your voice changing all the time, or being allergic to weird things. You have a horn in the middle of your forehead. Listen, Bonnie, I love you, but that kinda needs an explanation.” She held up a hoof as Bon Bon started to speak, and continued, “I know, I know, ‘Once we’re out of the cave.’ But we’re pretty durn near to ‘Out of the cave’ right now, aren’t we? Hay, we’ve got Princess Luna here. I can’t imagine that you telling me what’s up with—with everything would cause any kind of real trouble, but if it did, I bet you bits to baklava that Her Royal Highness would be able to handle it.” She was right, of course. She was completely right. It was safe now. No matter how Lyra reacted to the truth, Princess Luna would make sure that she stayed safe. In that light, there was no reason not to tell Lyra everything now. Bon Bon raised her head, meeting Lyra’s stern gaze. In a low voice that, thankfully, didn’t have even the slightest hint of a comical accent, she said, “Alright. But I just—Lyra, you’re right. This isn’t some little mistake I made, or some weird disease I’m ashamed of, or something like that. This is big, and if I tell you, you’ll—it’s going to change everything, for you, for me, for us. I just think maybe it might be better if there weren’t—if we’re alone when I tell you.” She drew a deep breath, and continued unsteadily, “But if you want, I’ll tell you now. It’s your choice.” There was a long, heavy silence, burdened with thought. Luna now had both ears twisted back in their direction, and looked like she was having trouble resisting the urge to turn her head, as well. Twinkleshine, who had just been dispelled and had gotten over her initial panic attack, was frankly gawking. Lyra may have noticed this, because eventually she nodded and said, “Okay, I’ll wait.” When Bon Bon tried to apologize the pale green mare shushed her and dragged the topic of discussion to lighter matters, evidently unwilling to talk about the subject weighing heaviest on both their minds. Not long after in objective time and an agonizing eternity later in Bon Bon and Lyra time, Princess Luna stepped back from the last unicorn (“Colgate,” apparently), finally freed of Chrysalis’ Glamour, and announced, “I would that I could linger to aid you, but Canterlot is in peril and the time for me to act may come at any moment. The way to the city is not rough. I counsel you, though, not to hurry thither too swiftly; it may well be unsafe. Keep out of the line of sight, and all should be well. Now, come ye to me, and I shall loft you to the surface, and then make my farewells.” No sooner said than done. Even with the prospect of her impending heart-to-heart with Lyra, Bon Bon had no desire to spend any more time belowground, and the others were even more eager to be on the surface again. Colgate stepped forward, and the princess’ horn glowed as the unicorn rose up through the rocky fissure to the surface. Twinkleshine stepped forward, and she too was lifted above. Bon Bon stepped forward—but Luna motioned her back, and pointed at Lyra. The unicorn glanced at Bon Bon, who gave a small smile and nodded, and then Lyra stepped forward, and she too was carried up out of the caves after the others. Bon Bon watched her until she passed from sight, and then turned to look up at Princess Luna, standing tall and regal in the dark. With an air of resignation, the changeling said, “Well, Your Highness?” “I would speak with you, spirit, concerning your…friend.” Luna paused for a moment at the last word, and it occurred to Bon Bon that a mare falling in love with another mare was probably one of those things that Just Wasn’t Done a thousand years ago. Hoping fervently that this wasn’t the prelude to a righteous smiting, Bon Bon prompted, “Yes?” Fortunately, smiting did not appear to be on the princess’ mind. “She is fond of you, I deem, and unless I much miss my mark, you are deeply fond of her. I confess I do not quite understand this, but my sister assures me that in these times—“ She halted, evidently feeling that she had gone a little off track, and continued, “Well, that is no matter. You love one another. This is so?” Simple question, simple answer. “Yes.” “I see. Then I have but one further question for you. I observe that, just as you were not entirely honest with me during our recent meeting, changeling—Aye, it is clear enough, thy disguise is too masterful for you to be of any other clan—you have likewise not been honest with her. This must not continue.” Her eyes narrowed. “Have I your word you will tell her what you are?” At first Bon Bon did not respond. Then she raised her head, stared fiercely up into the alicorn’s eyes, and replied in a voice strong and steady as a mountain’s roots, “She has my word.” Luna held Bon Bon’s gaze for a long, long moment, considering the little changeling with stern eyes and an unreadable face. Then the princess’ expression abruptly softened into a gentle smile. “That is sufficient for me.” She gave a short, whinnying laugh, genuine but tinged with the memory of an old sadness. “When all is said and done, who am I to pass judgment on thee—on you? My life has not been without its own darknesses, and be you never so wicked, you would have to work long and hard to match my own sins. Yet even I was forgiven, when forgiveness I sought. Meet it is that you be given the same chance.” “Thank you, princess.” Bon Bon looked away, her ears lowered. “I can’t expect forgiveness, though, and I don’t dare ask for it.” “I see.” The light of the distant Sun gleamed in the Moon Princess’ eyes as she raised her head, looking up through the long, twisting shaft to the outer world. She glanced back down at Bon Bon, and smiled. “But perhaps you will find it, nonetheless. I did.” Soft blue light gleamed on crystal facets and shone on the damp stone floor as a swirl of magic crept up Princess Luna’s horn. “It is time both of us were away, I deem. My part in the defense of Canterlot is not yet come. ‘Tia—That is, my sister, Princess Celestia—insists that certain projects of hers be granted a chance to shine ere I step forth, and I—well, she has a strong will.” Her mane swirled in the air like a cloud caught in a gale as she shook her head. “But that is no concern of thine. Suffice it that I may well be needed shortly. Now, to the surface with you.” The light of the princess’ horn flared out, and Bon Bon felt rippling waves of magic wrap themselves around her, lightening her weight. As she drifted up into the air, rising past the rough, moss and lichen-draped walls of the shaft towards the light above, Luna called up after her, “Farewell, ‘spirit,’ and again, I thank you for your warning. Quiet and hidden your service to Equestria may have been, but without it we would have been caught completely unawares, and this day might have been fell indeed. Your deeds will not be forgotten.” ----- A cold upland wind rushed and whispered through the tall grass of a steep mountain meadow, and gently shook the mint-green mane of a small unicorn, sitting on her haunches in the shadow of a small rocky outcropping and gazing out over the wind-whipped field at the shining white city of Canterlot beyond. The great force field that had protected it earlier was gone, and she could just make out innumerable black specks in the distance, some swarming through the air above the city like biting flies and others crawling, tick-like, over its gleaming marble masonry. Twinkleshine and Colgate had taken one look at the scene and had hurried back into the deeper shadows, huddling near the muddy, sloping pit in the cave’s floor that led in to the deeper and greater caverns beneath the Canterhorn, but Lyra had chosen to stay and watch. Whatever was happening here was big, and it was too important to miss. Moreover, after all that time spent struggling against the dark of the caverns and the dark of her half-slaved mind, she desperately needed fresh air, light, and wind—even if, apparently, they came with a side of apocalypse. There was a muted commotion back in the shadows of the cave, and Lyra turned, her face lighting up as she saw the cause of the noise. “Bon Bon!” Rocks and loose bits of sod tumbled down around the green unicorn as she clambered to the floor of the little cave and trotted over to her marefriend, who was currently struggling to her hooves after having been dumped unceremoniously on the cave floor by Luna’s magic. Lyra hoisted her up, brushed her off, leaned back and inspected her for cuts and scrapes, and then gave her a quick hug. Then, turning to the other two unicorns, she jerked a hoof towards the weedy entrance to the little cave and snapped, “Right, you two. Out. My marefriend-who-is-suddenly-a-unicorn and I need to have a talk.” Colgate lashed her tail in irritation and observed, not unreasonably, that there was some kind of war going on out there and if Lyra wanted privacy she could get it the hay outside the cave, thank you very much. Twinkleshine, showing an admirable economy of words, expressed the same sentiment by simply raising an eyebrow, opening her mouth wide as a bullfrog’s, and saying, “Whaaaat?” Then, apparently feeling that she had stumbled on a really pithy phrase and it would be a shame to let it go to waste, she repeated, “No, but seriously, whaaaat?” For a moment Lyra looked as though she might argue the point, but then she rolled her eyes and motioned her marefriend to follow her outside. The nimble unicorn hopped and scrabbled her way up and out of grassy, overgrown hole leading to the outside world, then turned and lowered a hoof for Bon Bon to grab. The changeling drew a deep breath, exhaled, and then hooked her hoof around Lyra’s and allowed herself to be pulled up into the daylight. It was time. They stood together for a moment looking out at the black swarms buzzing around the towers of Canterlot. Then Lyra sighed, gave a “Yeah, but what can we do about it?” shrug, and turned to Bon Bon. “Look, Bonnie, I know that—“ It was at this moment that Twinkleshine, or possibly Colgate, chose to shout, “Hey! Crazy! Princess Luna wants to talk to your marefriend!” Bon Bon felt an immense wave of relief, and then felt immensely ashamed of herself for feeling relieved, while Lyra pursed her lips together and very pointedly did not say several extremely uncomplimentary things about the two unicorns in the cave. The green unicorn glanced at Bon Bon, who smiled sheepishly and called, “Tell her we’re out he—Oh, hello, Your Highness.” With a quick shake of her head, Princess Luna dislodged a stray piece of sod from her black tiara, and hoisted herself the rest of the way out of the cave. She nodded greetings to both mares. “Forgive my interruption. My errand, though twofold, is simple, and I shall not tarry long. First—“ She walked several paces down the hill, and spread her wings, facing Canterlot, “—come ye and stand behind me.” Seeing their hesitation, she added, “Quickly, now! If I sense truly, time is short.” With some hesitation, Bon Bon and Lyra trotted back behind Luna and then stood there, feeling rather foolish. Several seconds passed. Grasshoppers droned in the sun-warmed grass and a meadowlark sang, while in the distance the changeling swarm continued its assault on Canterlot as Luna watched with remarkable impassivity. Several more seconds passed… And then, quite without warning of any kind, Canterlot exploded. A piercingly, painfully bright white light shone from somewhere in the middle of the great city, and then a magenta wave of seething, glowing energy rushed outward, sweeping soundlessly through turrets, parapets, walls, and towers without having any apparent effect on them. At first, indeed, Bon Bon thought that, spectacular as the explosion had been, it had done nothing at all—and then she noticed the thousands of tiny black specks, flailing helplessly as the turbulent flood of magic swept them away from the city. Luna’s eyes narrowed and she braced herself, spreading her wings wide and setting her horn aglow with magic. The blast front plunged towards them, now half a mile distant, now a furlong, now a hundred yards—and then there was a bone-shaking crack and roar as the shockwave struck them, parting around Princess Luna and flowing harmlessly by them like whitewater split by a great boulder amidst the rapids. For a moment all was light and fury, and then the worst of it had passed them by, and even the roar of raw magic rushing through the air was dwindling away into nothing. The echo of the blast sounded off the nearby mountains, reverberating and re-reverberating, and with ponderous grace and majesty the rolling thunder slowly faded away. And every last changeling but one on the Canterhorn had been swept away, never to return. With a sigh of relief, Luna folded her wings. “My sister planned truly after all—though her methods, I cannot quite—well.” She turned to face the two mares. Lyra spluttered, “Wait, so—that’s it? It’s over? But how—what—“ The princess inclined her head. “Indeed, it is all over. No changeling, or at least no changeling who was caught in that great magic,” she cast a swift, significant glance at Bon Bon, “remains in Canterlot, or on the Canterhorn. Equestria is safe.” “But wait, hold on.” Lyra plunked herself down on her haunches and gestured with a hoof. “There were hundreds of them there. Thousands! And they were just sent packing, just like that? All that power, all that evil?” “Aye!” She nodded. “The Fae are truly evil beings, and that evil is a clinging, choking thing, not easily banished. But there are some forces that may drive it out, whether wedded to magic, in this case, or merely standing on their own. Love, for example.” The princess smiled at some secret joke of her own. “Indeed, I suspect that was responsible in this case. Perhaps in others, as well.” Thankfully, she didn’t send any more significant glances in Bon Bon’s direction, which was just as well, as the little changeling was almost beginning to wish that she had been carried away by the spell. Moving with slow, deliberate steps, Princess Luna walked over to the shadowed entrance to the caves. “It would seem I am in no great hurry, after all. Nonetheless, I know you have much to discuss, and so I will be brief with regard to the second errand I have with you.” Her horn glowed a vivid ultramarine. At first nothing appeared to happen, but then there came the sound of some squawking, struggling thing, somewhere in the deeps. There was a sudden scream from the two unicorns still within the cave—Luna rolled her eyes—and then a white, heavily muscled thing vaguely resembling a pegasus emerged from the hole before her, struggling and complaining in the grasp of the princess’ magic. Luna cast a dismissive glance at it, and turned to Bon Bon. “Is this yours?” Aldrovanda, who was currently floating upside down in midair, craned her thick neck back until she could see Bon Bon and said in a gruff, grating voice, “Hay. Name’s Snowflake, pretty mare. I work out.” The kelpie raised a forehoof and pumped it. “YEAAAAH!” There was a moment of total silence. Bon Bon heaved the sigh of a changeling who had both borne the weight of the world on her shoulders and had had it talk sass to her, and said in a dull, flat voice, “Honestly? ‘Rambo Studchunks’ fits you better.” “Do you really think so?” Tombstone teeth shrank into gleaming reptilian fangs, a white coat blackened and bulged into an impossibly diverse array of junk and detritus, “Snowflake’s” short mane and tail flopped out into a kelpie’s long, green, dripping tresses, and Aldrovanda’s goatlike eyes gleamed mischievously. “I confess the name does appeal to me, but I thought it might be a tad much. Snowflake has such a delicious sense of incongruity to it, don’t you agree?” “Sure. Why not.” With a quick gesture of her hoof, Bon Bon beckoned to Lyra, who was inching backwards with her eyes fixed on the scabrous, dripping thing held in Luna’s magic. “It’s okay, you don’t have to worry. She’s kind of harmless. Um.“ For some inexplicable reason, this did not seem to reassure Lyra all that much. In an appalled whisper, she gasped, “What is that? “Ooh, introductions!” Aldrovanda beamed toothily. “You’re Lyra, of course, and you’re not Bon Bon’s pet. Delighted to make your acquaintance; you appear to be, ah…” She paused, apparently struggling to come up with something complimentary, and then concluded, “Meaty. You look commendably meaty. Yes.” “Um. Thank you.” Making a valiant effort to salvage some semblance of normal social interaction from the conversation, Lyra responded, “You look, uh, meaty too, I guess.” The kelpie raised an eyebrow. “There’s no call to be insulting.” “But you just—“ With a magnanimous wave of her hoof, Aldrovanda said, “Don’t worry, I forgive you. I’m sure it would break Bon Bon’s sweet, pure little heart to have us squabbling; she’s dull like that. But,” she added, “I could be wrong. She’s certainly flouting convention now by leaving my identity unknown to you. Introductions, Bon Bon, introductions!” Lyra looked at her marefriend helplessly. “Bon Bon?” Bon Bon clapped a hoof over her face. “Celestia and Lun—Oh, I’m so sorry, Your Highness, I didn’t mean—it just slipped out—“ With a stern face and twinkling eyes, Luna said, “Nay, do not apologize. No offense is taken. I believe you were about to explain this—creature to your friend?” If Bon Bon hadn’t known better, she would have sworn that Luna was actually finding this amusing. With a sigh, she muttered, “Lyra, this is Aldrovanda. She’s a kind of, uh, fairy called a kelpie, and—“ The bedraggled Shee gesticulated wildly. “Eh eh eh eh eh!” “What?” Bon Bon stared blankly at the kelpie for a moment, and then rolled her eyes. “Of course. How silly of me. Lyra, apparently this is ‘Utricularia,’ the shellyco—“ “Neeeh!” Whisking around to face Aldrovanda and stamping her hoof on the ground, the changeling demanded, “Well, what do you want me to say you are?” The kelpie gestured with a forehoof. “Say that thing you said few days back. That incredibly complimentary thing. I want to make a good first impression.” Bon Bon blinked, and then said in a flat voice, “I have never said anything complimentary about you in my entire life.” Raising a hoof in front of her face, Aldrovanda tilted herself over towards Luna and said, “I swear, memory like a stickleback.” It was a possible that she thought she was whispering, but if so she was mistaken. To Bon Bon, she said, “Sure you have! Don’t you remember? It was the morning after I impersonated your definitely-not-a-pet, here. You said I was an ‘unholy abomination and…?’” She smiled expectantly. Bon Bon buried her face in her hooves. Lyra said, “Wait, what was that about impersonating me?” “Oh yes, that was a fun night. After she impersonated you, Lyra, I tried to kill her and then she broke down our bathroom door. That’s the bathroom doorknob hanging from her ear, incidentally. Everyone—everypony—Oh hang it, everyone involved had the time of their lives.” After a few deep, calming breaths, which were frankly not nearly as calming as she had hoped they would be, the changeling continued, “And right. Of course. How could I forget. Lyra, this is Aldrovanda. She is an unholy abomination and an affront to reality itself.” “That’s not a figure of speech, by the way,” chirped Aldrovanda. “The universe really does despise me. You are now looking at a literal Thing That Should Not Be. Go on. Drink it in!” Raising an eyebrow, the changeling said, “So you’ve actually accepted it, then? Huh. Will wonders never cease.” “’Accepted it?’ Accepted what? Much as I appreciate your companionship, I do wish you would at least try to keep the driveling to a minim—“ Aldrovanda halted mid-sentence, eyes widening in horror as she realized the implications of what she had just said. For a moment she said nothing, and then hurriedly added, “When I said I was literally an abomination, I meant, ah, figuratively literally, of course. I mean, it’s not like I’m really going to d—the Shee aren’t mort—I can’t—I’m not—“ She trailed off, clutching her limbs protectively around her cluttered, angular body like a dying insect, and in a defeated little murmur said, “I’m not fooling anyone, am I?” “No.” Bon Bon shook her head. "Not even yourself, anymore." Glass, stone, and wood rasped and scraped against one another as the kelpie pulled her legs a bit tighter around her body. “I won’t say it, though. I don’t have to say it, you can’t make me say it, and I’ll never ever want to say it, so if you think for a moment that—“ “Yes, fine, whatever.” Massaging her forehead with a crooked hoof, Bon Bon said, “You don’t have to say anything.” “Good.” Aldrovanda hunched her shoulders, peering over her crossed forelimbs at the little changeling. “Just so we’re clear on that.” At this point Lyra, who had been listening in helpless confusion to this exchange, nudged Bon Bon and in a doubtful tone said, “You’re sure she’s not dangerous, Bonnie? She seems kind of unstable.” “Yes, well. Honestly, she is kind of unstable.” The magic web holding the kelpie aloft momentarily brightened, and Luna said, “You need have no fear. She shall not break free.” Turning to Bon Bon, the princess said, “I will be brief. This creature has, I gather, done you great wrong, for reasons that are not clear to me. She—“ Aldrovanda, who appeared to have been trying to brood—or possibly even introspect—raised her head with an indignant squawk. “Great wrong!? I have been like a mentor to her! I tolerated her weird perversions, gave her sage advice, regaled her with humorous and instructive anecdmmMMMphle Mppph!” A magical aura shone around Aldrovanda’s head and a little brass zipper slid across her mouth, fastening it shut. After a few more attempts at speech the kelpie made a muffled noise of indignation and lapsed into silence, her forehooves crossed pettishly. The glow of magic around Princess Luna’s horn dimmed. Bon Bon was filled with a feeling of great peace. Princess Luna swished her tail irritably—a bizarre sight, as her diaphanous, drifting tail was not entirely physical, and appeared to flow rather than swish. For a moment, Bon Bon had the strangest impression that some of the star-like specks of light in the alicorn’s tail had gleamed blue as they shifted towards her, and red as they drew away—and said, “As I was saying, I bade this creature summon me immediately once she found you or anypony else in need of aid, but I gather that she did not do so, endangering you in the process—and treating me as little better than a dog, to be called or held at bay as she willed.” Glancing back at the kelpie in disdain, Luna continued, “I sensed her in the caves, and after bearing you to safety, I retrieved her—“ “Ffffnnnmumphmm!” said Aldrovanda, scowling. “—retrieved her,” continued Luna demurely, “with the intent of making her answer for her transgressions.” Lowering herself to the verge, Luna glanced back at the kelpie, who had managed to flip herself around so that her back was to the three of them and was trying mightily to twist around again so that she could see what was happening. The princess shook her head, and returned her attention to Bon Bon. “She requested, however, that you be the one to pass judgment upon her—and considering that it is you who have been wronged most by her actions, upon reflection I saw no reason to gainsay that request. So.” Luna drew her head back, considering Bon Bon through half-lidded eyes. “What shall her fate be?” Somewhat hesitantly, Bon Bon stepped forward, looking up at the squirming kelpie. With an awkward twist and wriggle the creature writhed upside down, allowing her to look at Bon Bon as well. Aldrovanda’s eyebrows danced erratically, in what was presumably an attempt to convey some sort of message. In a low, pensive tone, Bon Bon said, “You. You’ve caused me so much trouble, you know? Every step of the way, you’ve been trying to stop me, doing everything you could possibly think of to make sure that I didn’t get to Lyra. Lying, stealing, delaying, betraying, insulting, mocking. On and on and on, and no matter what, I just couldn’t shake you. You just wouldn’t go.” She paused. “And now here you are, and here I am—and what will become of us, you and I? “MpphmMMphle,” said Aldrovanda, and somehow managed to smirk ingratiatingly despite the zipper across her mouth. There was no response from the changeling other than a long, steady stare, and Aldrovanda’s smirk slowly faded as Bon Bon, her face blank and unreadable, considered the creature that had caused her so much aggravation and misery. Then the changeling heaved a heavy sigh. “But on the other hoof, without you, Luna would never have come to the caverns, and Lyra and the other two would still be enchanted. Without you, I would have given up, there in the deeps.” “Mpmm, mhphm mmpf.” Bon Bon shook her head. “Sorry to disappoint, but no, I really would have. And come to think of it, without the lies you told Chrysalis about me murdering you, she would have just done away with me then and there, instead of choosing a longer, slower way that gave Lyra and me a chance. Hay, without you I never would have known about the invasion in the first place. Without you, Chrysalis might have won.” In an extremely emphatic tone the kelpie said, “MffFFFnphphle,” paused for a moment, and then added hopefully, “Mph?” Rubbing her forehead with her hoof, Bon Bon said, “Oh, fine, I guess so.” With a glance up at Luna, she said, “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but…set her free. We’re even, as far as I’m concerned.” The princess shrugged. “On thy head be it.” The magic swirling around the kelpie dissolved into the air and she tumbled down to the ground with a rush and ruckus. There was a small pop of inrushing air as the zipper across her mouth vanished, and Aldrovanda snapped, “Really, Bon Bon, that took far too long. I had hoped that you would arrive at the right decision with a bit more promptitude.” “Ungrateful creature,” muttered Luna, rising to her hooves. She turned to Bon Bon and Lyra. “Well. I shall retrieve Colgate and Twinkleshine, and we shall all away. No doubt you have much to discuss with one another.” With a gesture towards Aldrovanda, she added, “Shall I remove this, as well?” “I have hooves,” squawked the kelpie, her voice rattling with indignation. “I can walk!” “As you will.” The princess nodded farewell to them, trotted up to the entrance to the caves, and edged her way inside. There was a brief sound of muffled conversation, and then the grass stems and brush overhanging the cave’s mouth were momentarily backlit by a burst of bright blue light, accompanied by the distinctive ringing hiss of a teleportation spell. Aldrovanda watched this with interest, and then turned to Lyra and Bon Bon, a broad, toothy grin plastered across her face. She looked like a jovial crocodile. “Well, then. The happy ending, I gather, with the ‘Oh my loves’ and the ‘dearests’ and the swooning and the blech.” With a toss of a knobbled, junk-garnished tail, she trotted up and around to the top of the overhang shadowing the cave entrance, looking down on the two of them with that same sly smile. “I will say this, Bon Bon, and I’ll say it willingly, although I may have to eat soapwort to get the taste out of my mouth afterwards. This end? You’ve earned it. It’s been fun. I’ll be back.” She gave a long, low bow, and then slunk out of view behind the waving stalks of timothy-grass, heath lobelia, and stunted heather. Lyra turned to Bon Bon, but the changeling raised a hoof and said, “Wait for it…” Sure enough, within a few seconds Aldrovanda’s cluttered head popped back into view. She gave a brief nod to Bon Bon, and then, addressing Lyra, said, “Three things. First, that business with the giant walking gramarye was a good start. Try for something bigger and more smash-y next time. Second, ask Bon Bon to show you her balancing act some time. It’s a gem. Third, I’ll probably be dropping by your lair in the future--I wish to consult Bon Bon on the subject of existential dread--and I’ll want food. Now, normally I think you ponies have all the culinary talent of a stump full of dead snails, but I was in Canterlot recently and I discovered a remarkable delicacy called 'Mr. Frisky’s Cat Nibbles' which has made me revise my earlier opinions. The stuff is amazing. As good hosts, I shall expect you to have plenty in stock when I drop by. Right, I think that’s it. Toodles.” She flashed another grin, and then, with a rustle of grass and a rattle and clatter, she was gone. ----- It was cold, and the high mountain winds were blowing. Tattered fragments of clouds, tumbling and swirling in misty disarray, drifted among the meadow grasses or rushed in silent violence against the unyielding bulk of the Canterhorn itself. Canterlot shone pure and perfect and golden in the distance, only partially obscured by the shifting mists. There would be bells ringing there, the sounds of celebration and happiness, joy and relief—but from where they stood, neither Bon Bon nor Lyra could hear them. They were alone. And it was cold. Lyra broke the silence first. Drawing a deep breath, she said, “I didn’t realize. I thought you had just—I don’t know, somehow gotten trapped or tricked by those things, or something like that, but that creature, that kelpie—you knew her. I mean, you understood her. You understood her even better than Luna did. I didn’t think—I didn’t understand—I didn’t realize how big this might be. You tried to tell me, but I just didn’t get it.” Averting her eyes, Bon Bon said, “I didn’t try very hard. But then, you know that now.” “Yeah.” Lyra considered. “Well, I guess now’s the time, now or never. I don’t—I’m not even sure if I want to know what the answer to this is, anymore, but I have to ask it anyway.” “And I need to answer it.” “Yeah.” Kneeling and angling her head upward in an attempt to look into the changeling’s downcast eyes, Lyra asked, “Bon Bon…what are you?” Bon Bon took a few faltering steps backwards, edging towards the squat black maw of the cave. “A lot of things, but probably the most important one is that I’m a liar. I’ve lied to the world, lied to myself, and worst, lied to you. That ends now.” She felt tears welling up in her eyes, blinked fiercely, and continued, “But there’s one thing you need to know before I say any more, one thing that was always true, no matter what else may have been a lie. Lyra, I always loved you, I love you now, and I always will love you, no matter what. That’s the single, real truth that everything else was built around. You were always loved. Never doubt that.” Lyra gave a weak, worried smile. “I don’t, Bon Bon. I never did.” “I know.” The changeling sighed, and closed her eyes. “But the thing that loved you, well—“ A venomous, writhing warmth flared behind Bon Bon’s eyelids, and dancing green flames flickered over the surface of her lenses, scorching away everything that was sane and normal about them. She slowly slid her eyelids open again, revealing the glassy, electric blue compound eyes of a changeling, and finished, “It wasn’t quite what it claimed that it was.” Lyra’s eyes widened in shock, and Bon Bon rushed on, hurrying to say what needed to be said while she could still bear to say it. “I’m a changeling, Lyra; the same kind of monster that Queen Chrysalis is, and although I’m not strong enough now to transform all the way, if I could I’d look sort of like her, fangs and wings and all. My real name is Mendax; it’s an old name, from back when Discord first ruled. Roughly translated, it means ‘Liar.’ Appropriate, I guess, because ‘Bon Bon’ was just a pony I made up. The reason she never had much to say about her past was because she never had much of a past to talk about.” “But I’ve known you for years! How could—how—I don’t…” Lyra’s voice shook like a moth trapped in a spider’s web, shaking and shivering against a fate that it knew it couldn’t escape. Bon Bon hung her head. “I’m so sorry, sweetie. I wish I hadn’t—I wish, I wish, I wish, what’s the point of that? But it’s true. My voice shifts all over the place because I’m a changeling, and I’m not very good at keeping the shape of my throat constant. I can’t stand horseshoes because I’m a changeling, and iron burns changelings—just like the iron poker burned the buggane, back in the caves. Midsummer and midwinter, Imbolg and Lughnasadh, Beltane and Samhain—they’re all hard times for me because I’m a changeling. It’s on those days that Faerie’s strongest, and that I can hear the horns of the Wild Hunt in the sky. I can see and hear it all—because I’m a changeling. Every day of my life I’ve had to fight to stay here with you, in the real world, and not get sucked back into Faerie.” With a sigh, she added, “And some days were harder than others.” The wind swept past them, cold and high and dry, rushing through their manes and tails and sending the long hairs billowing around their stiff bodies—Bon Bon hunched and guilt-stricken, and Lyra still as a midwinter tree, eyes wide and face drained of color. Raising a heavy hoof, the changeling turned towards the cave entrance. “There. That’s everything, I think. If I hadn’t lied to you for so long, and if I wasn’t what I was, none of this would have happened. I’m just—I’m so sorry.” Bon Bon trotted slowly towards the gaping hole in the ground. “Go back to the sunlight, and try to be happy. Try to forget me. I’m not worth your love.” There was a quiet clink of stones scraping against one another as she edged under the overhanging ledge of clay and thatch into the darkness. “Wait.” Bon Bon looked back. “Lyra—“ “Wait.” The pale green unicorn trotted forward, moving with halting, uncertain steps, and knelt on the pebbled moss in front of the cave. Raising herself halfway up out of the pit, Bon Bon rested her forehooves on the little grassy ledge and looked up into her marefriend’s face. She noticed her own eyes reflected in Lyra’s, glowing eerie blue against the unicorn’s amber irises, and twitched her head away. She didn’t want to see that glow. She didn’t want to be reminded of— “Just—before you go, could you—could you say something?” “What?” She looked back at her marefriend. The unicorn’s eyes were wide and her face was drained of color, but her ears were pitched forward, not flattened back in fear. Bon Bon stammered, “Lyra, I—I don’t think I have anything else to say. I’ve broken everything. It’s all just pieces now.“ “But—” The unicorn took a deep breath and closed her eyes. “Just say something. It doesn’t matter what, it doesn’t have to be serious or anything, and it doesn’t have to be about us. It might be better if it wasn’t, actually. Just talk. I need to hear you talk.” “Well…okay.” Bon Bon lowered her eyes, thinking. “Um. I’m sort of cold, I suppose. The sky is, uh, a pretty color now, very blue, and—Sun and Moon, I completely forgot. I got some blue paint and sandpaper for the cellar door, to fix that awful scratch in it. But I was in such a hurry to get back home that it got left behind. Now I suppose you’ll have to get some yourself, since I won’t be—I’m not—Oh Lyra, I can’t do this—“ “Please.” Her marefriend’s eyes were still closed, her head bent forward and her horn almost touching Bon Bon’s forehead. “Sandpaper and blue paint is good. Keep talking about that, like none of this had happened.” When the changeling hesitated, she added, “Please, Bon Bon.” “Right.” With a sigh, the blue-eyed creature continued, “It was lapis lazuli paint. You’ll need to get that; otherwise it won’t match the door properly. And I don’t know if I locked the front door when I left, so you’ll need to make sure that nothing’s missing—“ “You locked it,” murmured Lyra. “You always do.” With a wan smile, Bon Bon answered, “I suppose I do. But all the same, you should check, just to make sure.” She paused, thinking. “Also, I never got the mess from the broken bathroom door cleaned up. I really should have. There was a little time before the train for Canterlot arrived, and it wouldn’t have taken long. Oh dear, and that door won’t be cheap to replace, either. I’ve got a stash of bits that you can use to pay for it, though. It’s in a little bag in the kitchen closet, behind—“ “—behind the mop, underneath a pile of rags,” finished Lyra. Bon Bon raised her head, surprised. “That’s right. I was saving it up so I could buy you a watchmaker’s lathe. You’re always complaining about how the one you have is no good for machining really fine pieces, and I knew you’d need to make a lot of tiny parts for your portable Fing-er. I thought it’d make a good anniversary present. How did you know about that?” “I do sometimes clean around the house, you know.” “When I tell you to.” The small smile on the changeling’s face faded. “When I told you to. When—when—” The words caught in her throat as the full weight of what she’d lost crashed back down on her. She couldn’t drag this out any longer. She couldn’t bear to. Choking out a strangled “Sorry,” the miserable mare started to lower herself into the cave, but stopped at the touch of Lyra’s hoof on her shoulder. She looked up. The unicorn was gazing into Bon Bon’s upturned eyes, a strange expression on her face. In a barely audible voice, she murmured, “Housecleaning and lathes…” Then, to Bon Bon’s utter stupefaction, her marefriend hooked her hooves under the changeling’s forelimbs, hoisted her halfway out of the cave, and folded her in a tight embrace, nickering reassuringly into her tousled mane. Bon Bon whinnied in shock. “Hush. Hush, Bonnie, hush. It’s okay.” Lyra gave another soft nicker. “I don’t know, but I think it’s all gonna be okay.” Without quite meaning to, Bon Bon raised her forehooves and wrapped them around her marefriend, clinging to her like a frightened foal. “But—I don’t understand, how can you—I’m a monster. I’m not what you thought I was.” “Maybe not—but you are who I thought you were.” With a gentle nudge of her hoof, Lyra raised Bon Bon’s head up so that the changeling’s blue, crystalline eyes met her amber ones. “You know something? When I was first getting to know you it wasn’t your fits, or your weird thing about horseshoes, or all the rest that was hardest for me.” She gave a crooked half-smile. “It was your voice. It was always changing, always different. Sure, it was silly, but I felt like you were always changing, too—like I’d start to get to understand you, and then your voice would shift and you’d suddenly just disappear, and there’d be this strange pony at my side who I’d never met before. I didn’t know how to deal with it.” The tousle-maned unicorn pressed her forehead against Bon Bon’s. “I eventually figured out I was being stupid. It was always you, under the weird accents and jumping pitches. Always. It didn’t matter how you sounded, it mattered what you said, and what you said was always so you. And then, well, I started to fall in love with you—with the real you. Didn’t really mean to, but it happened, and I never regretted it for a second.” Lyra leaned back, a hoof resting on the changeling’s shoulder, and continued, “And it’s still you in there. I can tell. What other pony would trek all the way from Ponyville to Canterlot, fighting bugganes and kelpies and I don’t know what else, and then start beating herself up for forgetting to make sure that the house was tidy before she left? What other pony, after saving Equestria, would worry about whether or not she’d locked the front door? What other pony would think that metalworking tools, of all things, would make a good anniversary present?” With an uncertain, scared little smile, Bon Bon said, “Not a pony, remember? And that was kind of stupid of me, I should have gotten you something more romantic, that—“ “And what other pony,” interrupted Lyra, her voice strong and certain now, “would know me well enough to be right? I’m not giving you up, Bonnie. I couldn’t find somepony else like you—or “somechangeling,” if you like. Whatever—in a thousand years. It doesn’t matter what your voice is like, it doesn’t matter what your eyes are like, it doesn’t matter if you’ve got a horn, or wings, or are all black and scaly and your legs are poked full of holes. I know it’s still you, and I know you’re worth loving. If you think I’m going to let you crawl away into the dark and lose yourself, you’ve got another think coming. Ain’t happening, filly.” The wind shifted, rushing down from the glittering golden towers of Canterlot and sweeping up to the two mares across the meadow, bringing with it the sound of bells and the scent of wildflowers. Lyra locked forehooves with Bon Bon and lifted her the rest of the way out of the cave mouth. “I can’t say that a little bit more honesty wouldn’t have been nice, but do you think I hate you for not telling me what you are? Do you think I hate you for being hurt and scared and exhausted? Bon Bon, I wouldn’t have left you. I would never have left you. I would have helped you.” Extending a hoof, she nudged the changeling’s chin up, letting sunlight fall on her bruised, dirty face. “We can make this work. It’s weird, and kinda freaky, but I think we can make it work.” Bon Bon took a deep breath. The air was cold and fragrant with alpine flowers, but she could also smell Lyra’s distinctive scent, familiar and alive with the smell of copper and rosin, oil and coffee. Reaching out, she drew Lyra into a tight embrace. “You might be right about that.” A weak, happy smile crept across her face, and she raised a hoof, rubbing clumsily at her eyes. “I think you might just be right.”