//------------------------------//
// Chapter IV 
// Story: Relinquish the Sun 
// by Error732 
//------------------------------//

Inkstain met Celestia as she exited the room, ready with a saddle bag full of scrolls, all bearing the seal of Equestria's highest office and demanding her attention.  Celestia wanted little more than to retire to her chambers until the dusk ritual, but the demands of royalty would have to take precedence.

Predictably, the first order of business Inkstain wanted to discuss was the outcome of the council meeting, which Celestia gently summarized as "unsettled."  Inkstain offered her condolences, but Celestia stopped her.

"There is too much at stake for Equestria to make rash decisions," said Celestia.  "However I feel about it, I need to do what's best for the kingdom."

The pair ambled through the broad, ornate hallways of the castle, preceded and followed by pairs of unicorn guards.  They tread on white and purple checkered tile, etched with geometric designs so fine and precise that only a magnifying glass could reveal their true craftmanship.  The plane of figures would have been invisible but for the way they iridesced under the light of the torches that lined the walls.  Gold-framed archways began the paths out to smaller corridors, and between them tapestries hung nearly floor to altitudinous ceiling.

The castle's vastness made its occupants seem sparse, though in truth there were countless officials and staff buzzing by at any given moment.  Diplomats and representatives trotted in and out of guest quarters and meetings; butlers and maids darted from room to room, sweeping or carrying plates of food, and guards marched from one end of the castle to another.  The only commonality between them is that they all bowed to Celestia as they passed.

Celestia and Inkstain rounded a corner into the corridor leading to Celestia's chambers.  There were many other doorways in this hallway, but only one bore a copy of Celestia's cutie mark.  As usual, a pair of guards attended either side of the double doors; though, upon seeing Celestia, one of them had a most unusual reaction.

The white pegasus dropped his spear, startling both his comrade by the door and the four guards still escorting Celestia.  The motion had been thoroughly deliberate; he expressed no shock or surprise at Celestia's arrival or at the loss of his weapon.  Rather, he locked eyes with the princess and strode forward.  The other guards looked to each other for an explanation but found none.

The stallion began to change.  The effect was subtle, at first, an anomaly in his appearance that crept inward from the tips of his wings.  A green aura encompassed them as they flattened and became sheer.  Where they met his—its—body, the transformation spread, and its armor and white coat receded as new features replaced them.  Blue-green plates appeared at its midsection, and elsewhere his skin took on a smooth, black sheen.  The pony's body morphed and grew as large as Celestia while its mane and tail elongated and turned blue.  A horn grew from the creature's head, large and slightly upward-curving.  The face below morphed as well; its snout retreated, and its pupils contracted into tall ovals bordered by emerald green.  Curved white fangs pushed out of its mouth.

The transformation completed.  Before them stood a creature that could generously be called an insectoid approximation of an alicorn.  But they all knew a better name for it.

"A changeling!" shouted a guard.  In an instant, weapons were drawn and horns were readied.  The guards scowled at the infiltrator.  Inkstain gasped.

The creature locked eyes with Celestia, "Please, your highness, forgive my intrusion, but I must speak with you.  My name is Cocoon, queen of the changelings, and I only wish to talk."

The guards, unmoved by the request, encircled her.  She kept her eyes on Celestia.  "Princess Celestia, I am formally requesting to begin diplomatic discussion with Equestria.  Please hear me out!"

The words startled Celestia.  A changeling queen, petitioning diplomacy?  Unheard of.  It was Equestrian law to kill changelings on sight.  Her guard knew this, and even now they inched closer to their captive.  She noticed Inkstain, shaking as the scene unfolded, then met Cocoon's eyes.

"Stop," she ordered.

The ranking guard began, "But, your majesty—"

"I know the law is clear about changelings," said Celestia, "but it is also clear about diplomats.  I cannot reject a nation's request for negotiation . . . not when issued by its leadership."

The guards halted their advance but remained poised.

"We will take her to a cell in the lowest level.  Clear the way ahead of any onlookers, so that we keep her out of sight.  No one is to know of her presence but us.  You are all excused from your other duties; your only priority is to secure her."  She turned her attention to the changeling.  "'Queen Cocoon,' if you really wish to speak with me, you will be silent until we arrive.  Any action you take against my instructions will endanger your life."

Cocoon nodded, already silent.

At once, the guards executed her orders with rigid determination.  Two of them galloped off to redirect castle traffic while the remaining three prodded Cocoon forward.  Celestia did not know how effective they would be should their captive turn on them; she was not an easy threat to gauge.  Changeling power varied with how recently they'd fed; the more victims they'd taken, the more potent their magic.  Perhaps this one was cunning enough that she had revealed her disguise only after sating herself.  Perhaps this was a masquerade borne out of hunger and desperation.  Whatever the doppelganger's plans, Celestia trusted only her own magic to thwart them.

Inkstain followed beside her, her breath shallow and uneven.  The pegasus shook with fear as she watched the changeling ahead of her.  Glancing down at her, Celestia allowed herself to take her focus from Cocoon for an instant to lean down and whisper, "Don't worry; I won't let her hurt anypony."  Unfortunately, from her persistently trembling gait, it seemed Inkstain did not seem to take any comfort in her words.

The convoy progressed through the castle's ornate halls, down a spiraling staircase, and deep into the snaking tunnels below the royal residence.  No polish or luster survived at this depth, only claustrophobic stone corridors lined with cobwebs.  The passages became coarser as they went on, no longer made of meticulously cut stone but of natural rock crudely chiseled into shape.  Torches rested in alcoves carved into the walls, but not all of them were lit; as they walked on, they saw more and more of them that had surrendered to the consuming darkness.

At last, they passed through a doorway into a chamber containing a single cell of iron bars.  Without invitation, Cocoon stepped inside, and the guards clinked the door shut behind her.  One of them locked the door with a silver key.  Celestia lowered her horn at the cell and concentrated; a swirl of magical energy spilled forth and clung to the bars.  Like a wick does oil, the bars absorbed the energy until only an icy blue sheen remained on their surface.

"That spell," said Celestia, addressing Cocoon, "will prevent any magical tampering with this cell.  Only I can remove the enchantment, and I will not do so if you try to circumvent it."

"I understand," said Cocoon.  Her voice was calm and resigned, as if she were a servant performing her duty.

Celestia spoke now to Inkstain and the guards.  "You may wait outside."

The guards assented and departed; Inkstain did as well, but far less automatically, as if her legs resisted every stride.  The door closed behind her, and the two monarchs were alone.

Celestia let the silence echo.  When Cocoon did not speak first, she took the initiative.  "Are there more of you in the castle?"

Cocoon's face remained blank.  "Yes."

"Where?"

"For their safety, I don't know the exact locations of all of my fellow changelings, but I do know there are many of us in Canterlot.  It's the only city in the area large enough for them to blend in; villages and hamlets have too few ponies for them to live unnoticed.  It's likely that at least some of them have assumed identities working here.  I would guess they are posing as servants or guards; it's difficult to impersonate officials and emissaries.  Too much scrutiny, too little privacy."

Celestia had not expected such bluntness, but her distrust held fast.  "What are your plans?  What orders have you given them?"

Cocoon folded her legs under her and sat on the rocky floor.  Her head tilted to the side at Celestia's question.  "Plans?  Orders?  We're not a military force, Princess."

Celestia countered, "You've invaded Equestria's capital."

"We've taken refuge in Equestria's capital," corrected Cocoon, as if she were pointing out a grammatical mistake.

Celestia pounded a hoof into the ground.  "Refugees don't impersonate royal guards."

Cocoon studied Celestia, scanning her face as if she were trying to find a breadcrumb on a sandy beach.  "I asked to speak to you because my kin and I seek a place to live."

The princess collected herself.  Cocoon's passivity had resisted all accusations and threats.  A more polite line of questions might be wiser, at least for now.  "If the changelings have no lands, then how are you their queen?"

"The title is more biological than political.  But if it makes the contradiction more interesting for you, if my people ever do acquire a homeland, I'll call it an empire rather than a queendom.  You don't call Equestria a 'princessdom,' do you?"  Cocoon's sarcasm was slight, her voice more whimsical than scarring.

"Why are you here?"

This was the question Cocoon had been waiting for.  She rose to her hooves and approached the bars, giving Celestia as clear a view of her face as the dim cell would allow.

"I want my kin to finally have a home.  I humbly request that Equestria allow changelings to live peacefully and openly within its borders, free of the burdens of disguise and mistrust."

"Impossible.  Changelings feed on the love of ponies, rot our culture from the inside out."

"I'm not asking permission for the changelings to live in Equestrian lands.  We already do.  Yet your ponies are not loveless, and your culture had not rotted.  Whatever your preconceptions of us, the only crime we're guilty of is a struggle to survive.  Changelings are condemned for borrowing the faces of others, but when they show their own, they're put to death."

Celestia drew a deep breath and returned Cocoon's glare.  "Changelings specialize in deceit, especially of ponies.  Your physiology and magic revolves around impersonating and tricking ponies.  Only minutes ago, you used that very same trickery to bypass my guards.  You admit to the existence of forces throughout Canterlot.  And now you ask for, what—"

"Citizenship," offered Cocoon.

"—permission to settle Equestrian lands.  That would be a tremendous risk for Equestria, with stakes as high as the survival of ponies everywhere, and odds dictated entirely by your trustworthiness."

"I know the burden of protecting one's kin," said Cocoon, "and it is all that concerns me."  Celestia let the moment linger, inspecting her words for their weight.

"I'm sorry," lied Celestia.  "but, even if I decide to trust you, I can't grant your request myself.  I will discuss our exchange with the council and return when we have reached a decision."

Disappointment turned Cocoon's face away from Celestia's.  She ambled back to the far side of her cell and lay down.  "Very well, Princess.  I will wait."