Chapter 13: Holidays
"Hah! Flee, you foals! Nightmare Moon has come for you!"
Meadow cackled evilly. It was a good evil laugh, even if the effect was somewhat spoiled by Spark snickering beside her.
She cast a haughty gaze to him, glaring out from under the silver helm. "Are you laughing at Nightmare Moon?"
He quickly stifled his chuckles, though he couldn't hide the amused grin. "Oh, no, I'd never laugh at her--I mean, you."
"Hmm..." She held her mock-glare on him for a few moments more before turning her head away, nose raised as she began to slowly strut, the perfect image of a dark queen convinced of her power. "Very well. Nightmare Moon shall forgive you this once, for your excellent service in crafting her royal armor. Perhaps you will even be permitted to keep all of your candy tonight."
Spark had certainly outperformed himself in making her costume this year. Having access to an array of metal-working tools and with Meadow able to buy materials, rather than using what they could scrounge up, the resulting costume was truly impressive. Oh, sure, the armor wouldn't give that much protection. It was still very thin metal, but it looked regal and somewhat threatening, and it fit her so perfectly. He'd even done a good job making an armature rig for the wings, which were covered in artificial feathers. It didn't move, but it looked convincingly enough like real wings held loosely at her side, particularly at night.
Yeah, it'd take a lot of scrubbing to get the black dye out of her fur, but it was well worth it for such a costume.
Spark's costume, on the other hoof, looked almost plain by comparison. He'd dressed up as a stereotypical pulp adventurer, complete with a whip and "adventurer's" hat. It managed to look both completely impractical for actual adventuring, and immediately recognized as being intended for such. Meadow chalked it up as yet another example of "ponies are weird" and tried not to think too hard on it.
"Keep all my candy?" Spark said, in an amused yet sarcastic tone. "You're such a generous evil overlord."
"Yes, Nightmare Moon can be very generous to her minions!"
"Uh-huh," Spark said, then nudged her. "C'mon Nightmare Moon. Let's get going before we miss all the candy." He glanced around. Night had already fallen, and apart from the houses and celebrations, the street was quite dark. "...And do you think you could turn on the light, again?"
"What?" Meadow cried out, as if insulted by the very notion. "Nightmare Moon will not taint her beautiful night by befouling it with light!" She scoffed.
"You used to," Spark pointed out.
She frowned at him, again fixing him with that cold, condescending glare, though the corner of her lips hinted at curling upward. "...Very well. But Nightmare Moon shall only permit the creepy light!" As she spoke, her horn lit up, casting her vivid green light across the area.
"So generous," Spark said, and then mock-whispered, "Nightmare Moon needs to learn first-person pronouns," which earned a very non-regal chuckle from Meadow.
Quickly recovering her composure, Meadow continued her haughty, regal strutting. "Onward!" she said, and then called out clearly to the world, "Nightmare Moon demands all of your candy!"
Holidays were possibly the high-points of life in Manechester. Even normal days were nice enough, with most of her free time spent with Spark. She would often hang around while he was working on his flying machine, the two of them chatting away as he worked. She would help as she could, though she understood so little of the actual mechanics behind what he was doing. Her help mainly consisted of holding something in her magic or passing him tools. It might be simple, but she didn't find it boring. It was like watching somepony building a three-dimensional puzzle, only he made all the pieces himself. Even when she was just kicking back and reading, or writing in her journal, there was something nice about being there. He seemed happy just to be around her, and that made his emotions strong and delicious.
The holidays, however, managed to be something special. They would occasionally go out and do something else, something fun, but the holidays always seemed to bring just a little more. Nightmare Night was an entire night of going out and having fun. Spending an evening hanging out was nothing new, but once he was sucked into the mood of the night, Spark seemed even happier, and a happy Spark meant a more well-fed and happy Meadow.
Where the holidays were something of a high-point, work managed to occasionally be a low-point. Most of the time, it wasn't bad at all, even if she spent a bit more time organizing paperwork and planning than actually helping ponies. Most of the help they managed was financial in nature, although the volunteer projects they organized--and which Meadow often participated in--were much more hooves-on with the ponies they helped. It made for a strange mix of tedium and exertion, but it was satisfying each time she came across a pony she had helped, directly or not, and was able to catch a bit of the thanks and affection they felt toward her.
No, the low-point of work was that she worked in close proximity to Bigs.
On a good day, she would never see him. They worked in different areas; she worked in the aid-committee offices--although "committee" sounded rather ostentatious for an office of two ponies--while Bigs was one of the clerks for the City Council offices.
Some days, however, she'd run into him in the break room or in the halls. Those were bad enough. The day after Nightmare Night had been one of those days. She had been sipping on a drink while reviewing some details of her planning journal when he approached her, seeming almost as if he wanted to start up a conversation.
"So I heard from a couple other ponies that you looked like a real monster last night," he said, leaning on the edge of the table.
Meadow just sipped from her drink, still looking at her journal. Seeing that she wasn't going to respond, he shrugged and continued. "Well, I told them it was a little unfair. I thought you did a very good job disguising yourself as Nightmare Moon."
Meadow was silent for a moment before snorting out a chuckle. "That was almost witty. Or it would be, if only it hadn't taken you four years to come up with. Now it's just sad."
Bigs had just rolled his eyes and walked away.
The worst, however, was when she had to deal with him as a part of her job. There were only two primary clerks for the City Council offices, so half the time she had to pass something on to them, it had to go through Bigs. They were "busy" ponies who were far too important to handle all of their own work, so the clerks handled much of the paperwork for them.
Even from the first encounter, she could tell it would not go well.
When she arrived at the office to find Bigs behind the reception desk, fixing her with a hard look, she knew the day was about to become frustrating.
"From Charity," was all she said as she handed the paper over.
Bigs continued to stare at her for a moment before lifting up the paper and reading. Several moments later, she realized he was not just skimming it to see who it should go to. He was reading it thoroughly.
Finally, he sighed, lowering the paper to look at her again. "No, Meadow."
"What?" She said, barely holding back an angry response. "What do you mean, no?"
"Exactly what it sounds like," he replied. "Your office's request is denied."
Her eyes narrowed very slightly. "Are you really so petty that you're going to deny aid to ponies that need it, just because of some foalish feud?"
"I'm doing my job," Bigs shot back. "And that job is to make sure that the council doesn't have to waste its time dealing with proposals like this, which only waste everypony's time before being inevitably denied."
"Or maybe you should pass it on," Meadow said, "And see if they're as adverse to helping ponies as you are."
"Do you think I like..." He glanced down at the paper and at least had the grace to radiate a little guilt as he spoke again. "...denying extended funding for the food program? I don't, but your office has a budget, just like every other part of the city government. You can't expect us to pull bits from other offices just because your office can't figure its way around a budget."
Meadow rolled her eyes. "It wouldn't be depriving other branches of any money. There's a discretionary budget for a reason, Bigs."
"Yes, and that reason is for dealing with emergencies and unexpected expenses," he shot back.
"Like the poor harvest and extended storms scheduled?"
Bigs leveled a hoof at her. "That's not unexpected, Meadow. That's been known for months. That's why your office's budget got raised almost ten percent this year. If you were better at managing money, that would be more than enough to make up the difference." He sat back, crumpling the paper in his hooves. "It's enough to make a pony wonder where all that money is going," he added in a very accusing tone.
Meadow's jaw clenched. Was he really implying that she was embezzling the money? The little voice in the back of her head that noted that it might not be such a bad idea was quickly strangled by the more emotional part that angrily pointed out that it was Bigs who had suggested it.
She stormed out of the office, the striking of her hooves echoing through the opulent halls as she went. Even as she fumed, she tried to wipe away the furious expression. I'm losing my cool, she thought angrily. I shouldn't let some brain-dead cretin of a pony get to me like that. Despite that thought, it was a struggle to bring that paper-thin veneer of calm over her hatred. The faint smile was there, but she knew her eyes looked too hard, the corners of her mouth threatening to curl into a scowl at a moment's notice.
Once again, Bigs was messing with her food. Every aid program was a few more ponies who felt thankful to her, a little bit more emotional energy for her to harvest. It was like a delicious meal dangled under her nose, only to be yanked away at the last moment. She might be able to get a little appreciation from those ponies if it seemed she put enough effort into trying to get the help they needed, but it would be only a shallow echo of what it could be. With this denial, some plan from her office would have to be cut back, and that meant some of those ponies were going to be disappointed in her.
She came to an abrupt stop.
No. They're going to be disappointed in somepony... She glanced back, a smirk slowly spreading. ...but it doesn't have to be me. In fact...
She paused a moment, a smirk growing as she resumed her trek back to the aid offices. She had some new proposals to work on.
It took only two weeks for her to find a good candidate. Merry Skies was a single mother of two little foals, one of several families whose houses had been badly damaged when a section of the riverbank had eroded away and collapsed. The city was already repairing the ground damage and reinforcing against future erosion, but it had left five families temporarily without homes. Several of them couldn't afford the repairs needed. Some, such as Merry Skies, didn't even have any friends or families to call upon for temporary lodging. They were entirely on their own.
It was exactly the sort of thing that the aid committee was intended for. Emergency housing funds would ensure that those suffering such unexpected losses as natural disasters would have shelter, as well as providing raw materials for repairs, while the volunteer program they organized would bring in ponies to do the actual work.
Contrary to Bigs's accusation, they did have a budget worked out, and quite detailed. This was intended as a guideline, a plan of how the money would be spent to ensure that they wouldn't go overboard in some area without considering the consequences to others. It left enough wiggle-room that they could afford unexpected events like this with minimal complication.
But on paper, it made it look like every single bit was already planned for, and they had none to spare. It took a little convincing before Charity allowed Meadow to draft up a proposal for additional funding for this specific project. Meadow knew it was unlikely to get approved, as anypony high up enough to do so would also be well aware that the aid committee should have plenty of money to cover this. Waiting to make sure it was Bigs who would receive it made its approval even less likely.
When Meadow returned, her ears drooped faintly, head held slightly lower, and her steps were slightly more sluggish. She wore a very convincing mask of disappointment, one that was echoed much more sincerely by both Merry Skies and Charity when they saw her.
"Bigs turned it down," Meadow said with an unhappy sigh.
Silence hung over the group for a moment before Charity spoke up. "I suppose we might be able to shuffle some funds around from other areas..." She was already digging around her desk to find the ledger holding the budget information.
"We shouldn't need to do that," Meadow said quietly, sitting down with a faint huff. "The city has a discretionary budget specifically for emergencies, he--they just won't spend it. We shouldn't have to pull funding from helping other ponies when the money is there."
"I know," Charity sighed. "But we only have so much to work with. I... I hate having to budget out help like some callous miser, but I'll do everything I can to help somepony in need. Some cases are just too important."
Meadow nodded, outwardly glum. Charity had said exactly what Meadow had expected. That pony might not be the best at budgeting and organization, but she was certainly driven to help others.
She allowed the downcast expression to linger for a few moments, before wiping it away, her eyes looking up to the other pony as if a new hope had suddenly occurred to her. "Charity, wait. I might... I think I might be able to take care of this, without pulling money from elsewhere. I know some ponies that might be willing to help..."
Ponies are basically good-natured creatures. While some might be selfish or rude, most were very soft-hearted. They may lack the strong sense of communal responsibility that the changelings held, but they typically held a sense of empathy for the individuals around them. Furthering their people as a whole was a distant, typically irrelevant thought, but the plight of those around them struck a chord. It might be short-sighted and narrow in focus, but it had its uses. For instance, it was quite easy to sway ponies from a more logical path by a simple appeal to emotion.
As such, Meadow's task was easy, even easier than she had planned. When she approached Willow Leaf about arranging temporary lodging for Merry Skies and her children, Meadow had expected to pay at least some small rent for the period. Instead, Willow listened to the story, and eagerly offered one of the empty apartments for the displaced family, free of charge. She even extended an offer of reduced rent if Merry decided to move in, rather than return to her home. Meadow might have thought it was a cunning business move, following up charity by a very tempting offer to an already-indebted individual, but she doubted that Willow could have ever intentionally come up with such a clever and conniving plan.
Spark was just as easy to persuade. All it took was explaining the situation and asking if there was anything he might be able to do to help, and he volunteered his time to the cause. He, in turn, spoke to several other ponies, and soon Sunseeker and a few of his employees had happily signed on to help--after work hours, of course. They even contributed some of the spare materials from Sunseeker's shop.
Temporary housing was covered, raw materials were inexpensive, and most of the workers were volunteers, offering to work for free. Charity had to divert only a small portion of the funds they had originally anticipated, purchasing the rest of the materials and providing food and drink for workers. Despite their offer, she insisted on giving them at least a token pay as a gesture of appreciation.
Less than a week later, Meadow stood proudly along the bank of the river, looking over the row of houses she had helped repair. It had been hard work, and she'd been right there in the middle of it every day after her work at City Hall was done. The signs of repairs were still obvious, but only from the freshness of paint. Almost all of the volunteers were highly skilled, and the structures were as well-built as they had been on their very first day.
Meadow enjoyed the feeling of accomplishment. She'd convinced a group of ponies, a generally lazy and unfocused lot, to work hard for her own goals. She'd accomplished this for a fraction of the cost it would have normally taken, all by knowing the right ponies to contact and by working herself to near exhaustion. She'd even gotten a hug and a wonderful serving of appreciation from Merry, overjoyed that her little "disaster" was over with.
She even managed to overlook that this disaster was merely a loss of luxuries that these ponies simply took for granted.
The only negative thought was the reluctant recognition that this might not be the most efficient path for her. With how overjoyed Merry was with how things had gone, she likely wouldn't even note how it had come to be: how Bigs had turned down the funding to help her, leading to Meadow putting in her hard work to see it through despite that setback.
Perhaps I should let the next aid effort fail. It would certainly embitter ponies toward him.
As she looked over the results of her work, however, she couldn't help but feel that this was the better way. She was used to working hard, after all, and for far less reward. Everypony there knew that she had organized this, and had seen her working as hard as any of them with the rebuilding. She had hauled loads in her magic, lifting supplies, doing some of the simpler tool-work, and constantly organizing and directing the work. The feelings of appreciation and respect were strong and filling, more than making up for any physical exertion.
Bigs was right about one thing: he had a good reputation here, he was respected. She, however, was a new face, untried and untested, even if she was spoken well of by a few ponies. If she were to face him on even ground, building up her own reputation was the first step. His own involvement in events such as this would be greatly overshadowed by her own, but it would still be there, lingering in the background. It may not be spoken of, but the knowledge would be there.
It did have a delightful subtlety to it. Such a thing was nearly invisible, but when it ever came to a comparison between Bigs and herself, these ponies would remember who was there for them and who was willing to turn them away. Certainly, it was more elegant than anything Bigs could do.
She didn't register the sound of hooves stepping up to her until Spark was standing beside her, smiling softly as he looked at her. "You really enjoy doing this, don't you?"
"Yeah." They were silent a moment before she turned to grin at him. "You seem pretty happy, too. I didn't think there'd be enough gears to keep you interested."
He snorted lightly, bumping his shoulder against hers. "You're always coming along to watch me work, even though you're not exactly mechanically inclined. I just wanted to do the same. I'm glad I did, Meadow. You do good work."
She had gotten plenty of affection throughout the years. Respect, even. They were tasty emotions, ones she was quite familiar with. Now, however, she sensed a new feeling. There were similarities to both, the general flavor of respect, yet carrying a more intimate feeling, a personal connection. There was a distant familiarity to it, as if she had sensed it long ago, the memory faded by time.
Recognition came abruptly, and her smile grew a tiny bit more as it did.
He was proud of her.
Manechester might not be as large as some cities, but there were still enough people for Meadow to have quite a bit of work, and as a result, plenty of opportunities to engage in her little plan. In the end, she had helped out with two large fires, a landslide, a bulk rainbow spill that flooded out a small neighborhood, an incident involving a student of magic, an ancient arcane artifact, a modified and unintentionally amplified Come-To-Life spell, and a three-story-tall statue of Celestia--how the remorseful student got off with a mere apology and helping the clean-up still escaped Meadow--and about a half-dozen lesser events before Bigs figured out what she was up to.
It only took him almost two months to do so.
As it turned out, there was a weakness to her plan, one that Bigs somehow figured out. She discovered this as she was passing on another of her planned-to-fail requests.
Bigs looked it over while Meadow stood there, trying not to look too smug. She could sense his annoyance at her presence, and it always brightened her day just a little bit. This time, however, it seemed to diminish all too quickly. In fact, he seemed increasingly amused.
Looking up from the paper, he gave her a narrow smile. "I'm afraid you've overlooked something here, Meadow."
She rolled her eyes. "It's all filled out, complete and proper. There's nothing wrong with it."
"Oh, I wouldn't go that far," he said with a smug grin. "But that's not what I was referring to."
He stood, still holding the paper. "I'll make sure the council gets this immediately."
Meadow's expression fell to a carefully calculated neutral. She stood silently for just a moment too long before replying. "Good."
With that, she turned and left, inwardly grumbling. Only a couple hours later, she received a sternly-worded letter from the council, detailing every reason why such a request was denied, in extensive detail.
After that, she had found herself in a rather frustrating position of being unable to do much about Bigs. The only consolation was that they were on relatively even ground. As it turned out, that was not much consolation, not when she had to see his face fairly regularly.
Meadow briefly considered other methods of gaining the upper hoof. There were all manners of methods she could employ to ruin his reputation. Threatening him seemed unlikely to work, but she could still frame him for something. She could wait for him to be without an alibi--sleeping at home, for example--and then be seen committing some crime while disguised as him. It was tempting, but crimes would be looked into much more seriously than foalish pranks. Who knows what kinds of things magical investigation might turn up? Even if it merely revealed that he appeared to be in two places at once, with nothing to prove her involvement, it would still work against her. Then everypony would know that somepony was specifically targeting him, and the last thing she wanted was to give him reason to gain their sympathy.
Simply killing him was out, too. Even if it wasn't such an inelegant and distasteful solution on its own, the investigation for that would be furious. She'd seen how much attention a simple burglary had drawn. But a murder? Sure, she could probably find some way that looked like an accident, but even the smallest of suspicions would draw far more attention than she wanted, particularly when he had told others of her earlier threats. They might not be considered seriously at the moment, but death has a way of making people reconsider things.
There was one method that she regularly returned to in her thoughts, occasionally daydreaming about. It was more of a fantasy than a real plan, but it was one that just seemed so much more fitting, more... changeling. She imagined producing a new persona, some pretty mare to catch Bigs's attention. Lure him in, entice him, woo him. To become the greatest thing in his life, the pony that brings him more happiness than anything else... and to then crush his heart. Stab him in the back. Take everything he values, everything he loves, and stomp on it. Leave him suddenly alone, shown just how unloved he really is.
And best of all? She could make it all look like it was his fault. He wouldn't be alone with a broken heart because the object of his desire turned out to be a horrible, manipulative pony. He would be alone because he wasn't good enough. Because he did something wrong to drive her away. Meadow could do it. She had no doubts about that.
A pity that it could be nothing more than a happy fantasy. Such a plan would require a constant devotion of time, and her only free-time was spent with Spark, who was far more important than somepony like Bigs.
Besides, such a plan would require being nice to Bigs, if only temporarily. She was absolutely certain she could do it. She was an excellent actor. She'd just rather not.
Not that it stopped her from daydreaming about it. Nor did it stop her from planning out every step of how she'd do it.
Only from acting on it.
Happier diversions thankfully made up for any annoyances. Even if Bigs was a constant thorn in her side, it was a small thorn when compared with all the positives of the rest of her life in Manechester. She continued spending time with Spark, though he would often take a break from working on his project to join her in her volunteer work.
Perhaps the most interesting thing about the holidays was how much different they were from the times they celebrated them back at the orphanage. Nightmare Night had been much the same, but it soon seemed to be the exception.
Hearth's Warming Eve was the first, and in retrospect, Meadow could understand the difference.
At first, she had noticed a little hint of tension among Spark's adoptive parents as the subject of the holiday came up. The strange thing was that she could sense their unease clearly; it was directed toward her. It would have been unnerving if it hadn't been so light a feeling, and if it weren't paired with sympathy. That turned what could have been concerning into merely a curiosity.
More curious was a simple question Willow Leaf asked her.
Meadow had just returned from work and was walking along the second-floor walkway when Willow fluttered up to land on the railing beside her, resting there like a bird on a wire. "Hey, Meadow."
Meadow stopped, concealing a smirk at the pegasus's unusual perch. "Hi, Willow. Having fun?"
The other pony laughed softly, spreading her wings. "Of course. It's a great day for flying!"
Looking past her, Meadow eyed the snow-covered courtyard and the scattered snowflakes slowly falling from the sky. "...If you say so. It's a bit cold to be going so fast, isn't it?"
"That just means I can fly that much longer without overheating!" Willow replied, giving a quick flap of her wings, but then she settled down again. "But actually, I was wanting to ask you a question."
The unease had returned. "Oh?"
"Well... I was wondering if you'd be joining us for Hearth's Warming Eve, or..." She trailed off, her wings shifting slightly at her sides.
This seemed to be the source of Willow's anxiety, or at least very close to it, but Meadow could not imagine why. "Oh, um... I don't really have any plans. If you wanted to have me, I'd be glad to do so."
Even more strangely, the unease Meadow was sensing from her faded, while her sympathy grew. Willow even fluttered over to give her a quick hug--while still hovering, no less--before saying that she'd look forward to seeing Meadow there. With that, she flew off, up into the chilly skies. For some reason, she was smiling.
When the actual day arrived, Meadow was increasingly unsure of what to expect. In most ways, it was familiar. Spark, his adoptive parents, and Meadow all spent the day together. There was good food and company, and later in the day they attended a big play. Rather than the small affair arranged with several of the children of the orphanage acting the roles, it was a much larger production, with proper sets, background actors, and even musicians.
After that were the songs. Simple little things, all about love and friendship, harmony... and family.
That last bit was different. Meadow could see why that aspect of the holiday might have been downplayed back at the orphanage. Some of the children had been orphaned by the death of their parents, or were given up for adoption, or possibly even abandoned. Such a cheery reminder of what they had lost would have been cruel. No wonder their celebrations had left off that side of the holiday.
At least she was different, mostly. The hive wasn't a family, not really. Not the way ponies think of family. Most importantly, it was still out there. She hadn't lost her family, like all the other children in the orphanage. They were just temporarily separated. It was different.
It wasn't until dinner had come and gone, and a comforting wing was draped loosely over her back, that she realized how quiet she was that evening. Meadow looked over to see Willow's sad smile, and the wing gave a faint squeeze.
"You've been a wonderful friend for Spark," the pegasus said softly, "You're such a kind and generous pony, and it makes me so happy that he should know a pony as good as you. He's told us about how you're looking for your family, and I wish you all the luck in the world, but... but I want you to know that you'll always have a family here with us, as well." She gave another soft squeeze. "It's the least we could do for such a good friend."
Meadow slowly smiled. "Thank you," she said, despite the slight tightness growing in her throat.
The smile she wore the rest of the evening hid the conflict in her mind. There she was, being comforted by ponies once again. The truly distressing thing was that it worked. Such a sickeningly sappy pony sentimentality, and it worked. She shouldn't care at all about what Willow had said, but she couldn't deny that her words had an effect.
It was only as she lay down to sleep that night that another thought occurred to her.
And why shouldn't I be happy about what she said? I've played my role so well that they're welcoming me into their family, something these ponies value so highly. It's not just some stupid pony sentimentality, it's a clear demonstration of my skill and worth. I've slipped my way into a loving family, fooling them into thinking that I'm a pony deserving of their love and respect. That's the kind of accomplishment that makes for a worthy Infiltrator!
With a content smile unburdened by any lingering concerns, she closed her eyes and slept.
Time passed easily. Work was rewarding; ponies seemed even more thankful for help when it was cold and snowy out, and she rarely crossed paths with Bigs outside of the occasional run-in at lunch. There were few events outside of that of any real importance. She tagged along with Spark when Sunseeker launched a new airship, one of the larger ones they had been working on. It was an impressive sight. Even though Meadow had ridden on an airship a couple times now, it didn't really compare. Cirrus was a tiny thing, while this airship was a full-sized yacht. She'd seen bigger over Manehattan, but that had always been from a distance. Viewed up close as it lifted into the sky, it looked so much more real, and somewhere in the back of her mind, more ominous.
Another day, Willow brought them to an air-show put on by local fliers, who flew all manner of convoluted and tricky patterns. The highlight of that show had been a professional flier from a group called the Wonderbolts, which appeared to be some strange cross of show-performers and military fliers. Meadow, of course, noted how ridiculous that concept was, and how much it spoke of ponies that their military fliers would be show-ponies first, and fighters a distant second--if at all, she derisively thought. Still, the maneuvers were amazing to behold. Willow was particularly enraptured by it, and looked as if she were only barely holding back from leaping up to join in. Each maneuver brought out a little flare of her wings, little twitches and adjustments, as if she were imagining herself flying up there beside them.
As time passed, another holiday loomed, more ominous than the last.
Many ponies might think Hearts and Hooves Day would be the perfect holiday for a changeling--had they known of the existence of changelings, that is. In some ways, they would be correct. Back in the orphanage, it had been a proper feast. Ponies were quite friendly creatures by nature, but the holiday brought the thoughts of love and friendship to the forefront, and Meadow had reaped the benefits of this. After all, she was attractive, friendly, and always going out of her way to help other ponies. Most of the children had good reason to like her, and that meant a lot of appreciative colts and fillies, all encouraged to express those feelings.
Now, however, she only had the one.
Even though she might not understand ponies beyond the point that was needed to act like one, she was not naive or ignorant. She knew what they felt. Even though she avoided acknowledging it, the fact was that Spark had a crush on her, and had since she first arrived here. He had never brought it up, but that couldn't hide such an obvious fact from her. She ignored it, but that wouldn't change that it was there.
Hearts and Hooves day threatened to change that, and no matter how many times she considered the benefits, she couldn't help a small sense of dread.
As the day grew closer, she could sense the rising feelings in Spark, as well as the growing nervousness. The message to Meadow was clear: Spark was going to do something. Something to try to make their relationship stronger than just "friends.”
In some ways, it was tempting to simply accept it, to enjoy it. After all, finding a true, personal love to feed on was the ultimate goal of any Infiltrator. Meadow had never tasted pure love before. There had surely been some in the feeding pool back in the hive, delivered by the other Infiltrators, but that was mixed and muddled with all the other positive emotions to the point that it simply blended in. The energy Ceymi had poured out had been rich with it, enough to give a tantalizing taste of the pure emotion. But true love, pure and unmixed? Meadow had only heard stories of it. It was supposed to be the most amazing and euphoric taste in the world, and so much more powerful a source of energy than any other emotion.
And here she was, with an opportunity to cultivate that emotion, to harvest it for herself.
But she knew better than to simply leap into any endeavor simply because of its benefits, without considering the disadvantages. Caution had been the most important word in her training, encouraging her to look for the potential dangers. She found two.
The first problem that came up was a matter of time. Her training had emphasized that the stronger the relationship, the more work was required to maintain it. Ceymi had been rather clear on that point. A relationship that consisted of casual affection could be maintained easily. One that consisted of a strong love would require regular, almost constant work to maintain that strength. As much as she desired a source of true love, there was the matter of priorities. No matter how much love she could gather, it mattered nothing without being able to bring it back to the hive. Her priority had to lay with her plans to find her way home, and that meant that her primary focus had to be on her work, to earn the bits she would need to get home. Any time she spent on maintaining a relationship would detract from that. After all, she could always build it up after she had found her way back to the hive.
She allowed herself a little sidetrack to consider the idea of resuming her prior ways of thievery. She could save up for the expedition so much quicker, after all. Sadly, caution won out again. While it would be quicker, she couldn't help but consider the suspicion. If such burglaries were to start up again, here, somepony would surely make a connection to the crimes in Manehattan. A particularly clever pony might even notice that she was a common element in both cases, and that she had left Manehattan within days of the last burglary. She was even a minor public figure, increasing her visibility. No, it was just too risky.
The second problem with encouraging a deeper relationship was the fact that she would be leaving for a time, when she went to find the hive. She had no idea when she would return. It could be months, or even years. Would she be able to return immediately? Would they insist on further training to ensure that she could handle the responsibility of the role, despite having done so for years? Would they even let her return? She quickly dismissed the last concern, but the others still posed a problem. Building up a relationship required work, but restoring one that had decayed could require considerably more, and might even be impossible. True, it might also make it easier, if it encouraged a feeling of longing while she was gone, but it was still a risk. If he were to grow to love her, months of absence could threaten that. Would he hold out while she was gone? Or would the love fade, with the dampening memory of an apparent abandonment preventing it from ever kindling again? She could simply wait until she returned, and easily avoid the entire issue.
As such, she decided to wait, despite entertaining fantasies of feeding off the wonderful pure love that lay easily within her reach if only she were to encourage it.
It should have been easy. All she had to do was continue on as things were, being a good friend, without making any overtly romantic gestures. Simple. Easy. Problem-free.
And then Hearts and Hooves Day had to come along and muck it all up.
The day itself drew steadily closer, the entry on the calendar ominously and relentlessly closing in like an oncoming train. She could practically feel her control of the situation slowly being peeled away, as the oncoming holiday emboldened Spark.
Finally, the day before the holiday itself, the feelings it stirred up in Spark overwhelmed his nervousness. She had come home to find him sitting in the living room. He gave her an anxious smile as soon as she entered. Once the initial greeting was done, he finally breached the subject.
"So, um... Meadow. I was wondering..." He fidgeted a little, one hoof poking nervously at the side of the couch he was sitting on. "Well, tomorrow is Hearts and Hooves Day, and I was just wondering if you'd like to maybe go out and do something?"
And there it was. Meadow mentally grumbled. Of course he would start with a request that could only be answered with "yes" or "no." She could come up with some excuse to turn down the request politely, but she could sense his feelings. His excitement at the prospect of her accepting was matched by his fear of her refusing. Simply turning him down ran the same risk of driving him away, ruining later prospects of building up the relationship. Besides, it would probably leave him crushed, and she really didn't want to make him sad. As a result, she was practically forced to accept.
However, that didn't mean she had to give up complete control. The situation wasn't hopeless. She just had to play this right. If she could play along with this, being just encouraging enough to keep things from falling apart, but not so much as to build the relationship up further, then it would all work out. It was the social equivalent of a tightrope act, a narrow path to success with failure looming on either side. She was an Infiltrator, though. She was in her element. She could do this.
Though she noted that, if she were to fail... falling on the side of encouraging his love would be the far more desirable outcome. She tried to keep that thought from her mind. She didn't need the temptation.
Fortunately, she did not need to think of any of that at that moment. Such thoughts had already been bouncing about her head for days. At the time of his question, she needed only to give the answer she had already thought of.
"Well, sure. I don't have any work tomorrow. It'd be nice to have something fun to do." She even smiled nicely.
Spark overlooked the slight disappointment that she had responded so casually, instead seeming to focus more on happiness that she had accepted. He tried to play it cool, of course. After all, Meadow was being so calm and casual about it, so it wouldn't do to act as excited as he was feeling. Despite that, Meadow caught a couple glimpses that evening of him practically bouncing with excitement when he thought she wasn't looking, and his affection was growing even stronger. It was amusing... if a bit concerning.
The one relief Meadow had through the day was the knowledge that Spark had absolutely no idea what he was doing.
He had some ideas and plans for the day, but they all seemed so simplistic to Meadow. Sure, she'd never put serious time into investigating and understanding romance, her time spent on more important goals, but that didn't mean she hadn't looked into it at all. There were the other couples she had observed, the stories she had heard, even others talking about what a date might consist of. She'd even read a couple of the romance novels Charity had talked about, though she had quickly concluded that they were utter trash. It had all worked together to give her an impression of what a "typical" date might consist of.
Spark had obviously gotten the same impression of what was normal for a date. However, that just exposed how little experience he had with such things, as that's all it was: normal. He covered the elements in their basics, but that was pretty much it. There was no personalization, no altering the routine for the individuals involved. Meadow might have no more experience with romance than Spark did, but she knew social interaction. She could have pointed out so many things that could have made the day much more effective as a date, but that would have been counterproductive.
It was somewhat amusing, in a way. Meadow thought that a pony might even describe it as cute. He had no idea what he was doing, but that wasn't stopping him from trying his hardest.
The day got properly started when they went out for an early lunch at a downtown café. Meadow made a point of trying something new as an "experiment," ordering some fancy creation of minced flowers and grains with a long and foreign name she couldn't remember. It let her feign disappointment in it; the first little flaw in the day. She tempered this by making a game out of stealing a few of Spark's hay fries, to his amusement. A little bit of a negative in an otherwise positive event. Not an ideal, perfect date, but not really bad, either.
After lunch, he took her to a play. It was some comedy about some tragic misunderstanding between two pairs of ponies that snowballed into a fairly wild series of events that Meadow couldn't at all find reasonable, but were still funny despite that. Spark clearly enjoyed it. She did too, and said as much, though she made sure to mention a few "little nitpicks" in a lighthearted tone that she hoped would make them seem not at all serious, but still cast a slight shadow over it. Judging by the faint rise in nervousness from Spark, it had worked.
They wandered about after that, with Spark leading her to a museum. She hardly even had to do anything, there. While they shared reactions to most of the exhibits, that largely did her work for her. They both were interested in the exhibits on machines throughout history--Spark was positively enthralled by a few pieces, and Meadow could appreciate their complexity even without understanding how they worked--while they both found the "fine arts" kind of boring.
One exhibit drew a very different reaction from the two of them: a showcase of the Equestrian Guard throughout the centuries. Spark was intrigued by some of the items on display, but Meadow could only suppress the foreboding feeling she got on looking at a reminder of Equestria's military power. Even Spark seemed to notice her grim mood through her act, and they moved on soon afterwards.
The final event of the day was clearly intended as the centerpiece of the day. Spark had gotten reservations at a fancy restaurant called Sweetwater, which had an array of terraces overlooking a bend of the river. It was fancy, with a beautiful view, good food, and a high price tag. The service was even much more pleasant than she had expected from all the horror stories she had heard of anything even approaching "high society."
They ate, and talked, and enjoyed their time together. Spark complimented the food. Meadow agreed, although she casually mentioned that it was the first restaurant she had been to that could compare to his mom's cooking. He would start up a conversation, and she would subtly guide or derail it, aiming for that perfect amount of pleasantness; good, but nothing exceptional. She couldn't help but enjoy the back-and-forth of it. It was like a battle of words, and she was easily better equipped for such a conflict.
Finally, they returned home. Meadow couldn't help but feel a little smug. The evening had gone perfectly; which is to say, not at all perfectly, but still fairly good. Spark was a little quiet, probably feeling a little awkward about how the "date" had gone, but he had still enjoyed himself. Truth be told, Meadow enjoyed herself, too. Even if it was a somewhat awkward attempt, it was still a nice day spent alongside Spark. The thought of how much better it would have been if she hadn't worked to subtly sabotage the day was exciting. Someday, hopefully...
But as Meadow was beginning to relax, thinking the battle of wits and words won, Spark delivered an unexpected blow.
They had just arrived home when Spark got a very nervous but serious expression. "Hey, Meadow, I was wanting to ask you something."
She cocked her head, looking to him curiously, while alarm bells started going off in her head. "Oh?"
"Yeah." He fidgeted a moment before continuing on. "My birthday is at the end of the summer. Mom and dad have offered to let me stay here, and at low rent, but... I think I'm going to move out."
She blinked. That was not at all what she had expected him to say. For one, it wasn't a question. "Why's that? I mean, what did you want to ask?"
He walked over to the coffee table, moving a book to reveal a small, folded pamphlet with a picture of a home. "I found this place. It's a small house, but it's a good-sized property, with a really big shed. It's the kind of place I could move my whole project to, so I can work on it from home, without having to take up space at dad's shop."
He passed the pamphlet over, letting her look over it. It might be small for a house, but it was still quite a bit larger than the apartment. "It's... it's kind of expensive, though. I know you're saving up money for your expedition, and I really don't want to get in the way of that, but I..." The nervousness built up in him, to the point that it seemed he had to force himself to murmur out the rest of the sentence. "I was wondering if you'd move in there with me."
If Spark hadn't been looking down at his hooves, he might have caught the faint narrowing of Meadow's eyes.
There it was. One simple, unambiguous, yes-or-no question. Yes, and she was giving a clear sign that they were more than just friends, even as it delayed her plans to go home. No, and she would be trampling on his hopes, all but calling him unworthy of her company, likely ruining any chance of ever developing anything greater than friendship.
Well played, Sparks.
And so, she did the only thing she could.
She smiled, her expression soft and happy. "I'd love to."
His nervousness washed away as he grinned, quickly hugging her.
She had been outmaneuvered. Despite all her talent and training, Spark had found a weak-point and had delivered an unavoidable blow. Despite all of her little manipulations at steering the evening, he had won a narrow victory.
Yet as he hugged her, practically brimming over with happiness, she couldn't quite bring herself to mind it.
Meadow hadn't expected another question of such noteworthiness to happen for quite a while, but just a month later, another one reared up.
The month itself went smoothly enough, if a bit mentally draining. The social tightrope walk continued on, a constant struggle to keep things from going too far, too fast. It wasn't really that hard, and so far it had gone well, but it could become a little mentally draining when she had to constantly weigh whether her actions would make Spark too happy. If anything, it made her even more eager to return to the hive. The sooner she could get through all the difficulty of finding her way home, the sooner she could be done with this tiring vigilance and encourage the feelings he had for her. That made the expense of moving hit even harder; the amount she had to spend for normal things had already pushed back her plans to fund an expedition, but with the added expense of helping to pay for the house, it would probably be another year before she had saved up what she wanted. It was enough to make her begin considering alternative plans. Heck, on the worst days she began seriously considering simply flying out again and hoping for the best.
As for the new question, it came out of the blue one evening, as she lay on the couch, lazily writing in her expedition-planning journal. A very energetic Spark bound over to her, with a phrase that nearly made her wince.
"Hey Meadow! I've got a question!"
The very-slightly sly grin he wore as he said that both worried her, and assured her that whatever it was, it surely wasn't too bad. "What's that?"
"Can you get a few days off for the Summer Sun Celebration? Maybe a week?"
She tilted her head, ears cocking at odd angles as she tried to figure that one out. Finally, she closed her journal. "The City Hall will be closed both days, and I'm sure I could get a few more for a good reason..." She let the final words hang as an implied question, which Spark quickly took up.
"Oh, there's a good reason," Spark replied. "I was going to go to the Summer Sun Celebration, and I was hoping you might want to come with me?"
"Well, sure. But why would you need several days? Even if they hold it on the other side of town, it wouldn't take more than an hour to get there."
"Not that Summer Sun Celebration," he said, with an amused roll of his eyes. "The Summer Sun Celebration! Your letter about seeing Celestia raising the sun got me wanting to see it, and she's going to be at the celebration in Canterlot this year. We could see both on the same trip!"
A cold shock went through Meadow. Immediate objections and an urge to caution filled her head, but more practical and immediate matters came to mind. He was obviously excited about this, and would probably be very disappointed if she said no. In fact, she had practically already said yes. Turning around to say no would be suspicious when the only detail that changed was the location. She could come up with an excuse, but really, what kind of pony would be afraid of Canterlot?
Steeling herself, and speaking just a little bit more stiffly than she intended, she replied. "That sounds good. I'll see if I can get the time off, then."
Spark didn't seem to note her internal struggle, instead, he lifted his head and grinned in an amusingly haughty expression that he probably copied from her. "Good! Now if you'll excuse me, I have plans to make!"
"Plans?" Meadow asked, raising an eyebrow suspiciously. "What kind of plans?"
In a singsong voice, Spark replied, "It's a secret!" before strutting out of the room. Despite the ominousness of that line, Meadow couldn't help but smirk at his silly mimicry.
That evening, when Meadow found herself with a moment alone, she slipped outside. She wandered along the walkway until she reached the other side of the apartment building, and then leaned across the rail, looking outward. There, past the rooftops, she could just barely see the distant city of Canterlot.
It held a commanding position. From such a distance, it was too far to make out any details, but the glow of the setting sun highlighted it in crimson and gold. Despite the distance, it was still quite visible, towering over the surrounding countryside. Anywhere in the heart of Equestria, the city was visible, looming over everything. Meadow couldn't think of a clearer sign of power and dominance than to have the entire royal palace elevated so clearly over everything. It made the Queen's spire back in the hive look subtle by comparison.
Meadow had never seen that city much closer than she was right now, and for good reason. There lay the Princess. There lay the Royal Guard, and the largest concentration of Equestria's military forces in the entire country. There lay the heart of their entire kingdom, with all the security that came with it.
Of all the places a changeling could go in the world, no place could be more dangerous than Canterlot.
And yet, as Meadow stared out at the city, she knew... they were still just ponies. Soft, trusting, naive ponies. She had been the focus of scrutiny before. She had encountered suspicion and accusation. She had been investigated by guards. She had received the attention of the Princess herself!
And she had fooled them all.
A smile slowly spread across her face. She could do this. She could enter Canterlot, and these ponies wouldn't even know what walked among them. The heart of their kingdom lay open before her. She could enter the most vital territory of the enemy of the hive, and she could enjoy herself while doing so.
A vacation does sound good, she thought, eying the distant city as it slowly faded into the growing dusk. This could be fun.