//------------------------------// // Chapter 23: Twilight Time #2, Entomology // Story: Princess Celestia: The Changeling Queen // by vren55 //------------------------------// “How ridiculous and how strange to be surprised at anything which happens in life.” ― Marcus Aurelius, Meditations About a day ago… Squishing forest underbrush with her hooves, Twilight strolled to Zecora’s hut at a sedate pace. As she walked, her ears flicked left and right, taking in all the forest sounds. Twilight knew that the Everfree Forest was not quite as dangerous as some of the local town legends made it out to be. Fluttershy’s cottage was located at its edge as was the Apple family’s orchard, and the forest hadn’t harmed either of them in any significant way. Sure, there were monsters in the forest—Twilight winced ruefully as she remembered the time she had been petrified by a cockatrice—but as of late, it had been rather quiet. Still, a little caution never hurt anypony, and Twilight could never shake the feeling that something was watching her. “Zecora? It’s Twilight. Are you free?” asked Twilight as she finally glimpsed the zebra’s hut. Zecora’s melodious voice floated through the windows, but it seemed slightly more strained than usual. “Yes. But a bad brew has created a mess.” Twilight, stopping just outside of the hut’s door, blinked. “Do you need any help?” “I thank you, Twilight, but I must say nay. I need your assistance I will give you a bray,” said Zecora. A moment passed where Twilight heard some shifting furniture. The door then finally opened to reveal Zecora wearing a tired smile, a few hairs out of place from her mane. “Hello good friend, did you visit me because you have an ailment to mend?” asked Zecora, showing Twilight in with a hoof. “Well no, I just have some questions.” Twilight noticed that the furniture inside the hut was slightly rearranged, but she managed to find a chair to sit down on. There was a cauldron on the fire, which was tinted green for some reason, and green smoke wafted from the vessel’s contents. “Have you been keeping an eye on Equestria’s ongoing relations with the changelings?” asked Twilight. Zecora nodded. “I also know of the Equestria First’s attack, and how the Royal Guard struck back.” Twilight wondered for a moment on how Zecora could know all of this when she lived in the Everfree, but then she remembered that Applebloom had visited Zecora yesterday and delivered a copy of the paper to her. “Well I want to write a book about changelings, to dispel some of the myths and superstitions concerning them. I mean, one of them said that changelings could transform into water, and appear in any water source.” Twilight frowned as Zecora chuckled. “That is not a myth, but case of mistaken identities. You are speaking of the the changelings’ mortal enemies, the kelpies.” “Kelpies?” asked Twilight. “Dangerous creatures of the sea’s embrace. But I am afraid I do not know much else about the changeling race,” said Zecora, waving her hoof in a dismissive gesture. Twilight nodded, but something seemed off about Zecora’s reply. “I also read that the changelings interacted with zebras, in tales like Pundamilia and the Kivuli Usiku,” said Twilight. Her features softening, Zecora nodded. “Every zebra knows that tale, inside-out and from head to tail. But this story, it is a very old legend. To pursue it too deeply is to dip into obsession.” Sighing, Twilight slumped into her seat. “I think I’m starting to see that.” Pursing her lips, Twilight rose to her hooves, forcing herself to smile. “Thanks, Zecora. It was nice seeing you again. I’ll be here next week to pick up my usual blend of herbal tea.” “Will you not stay? Your company I must still repay,” said Zecora. Twilight paused for a moment in though. “Perhaps you can tell me the story of Pundamilia? I read it from a book on Zebrica, but I’d like to hear it from a real shamaness.” Zecora smiled. “Very well, it will be done. Now sit back down while this tale is spun.” Zecora reached behind her for a small bowl of green powder that sparkled as she lifted it off its shelf. Taking a scoop, Zecora tossed it into the air and began to speak, the powder forming smoky images of bygone times. With Zecora’s chanting voice, unique to the storytelling style of Zebrican shamans, Twilight found herself drawn into a story that seemed exactly like the one she read, yet completely different. The powder and the dark lighting of the hut only added to the atmosphere and the tale of Pundamilia and the Kivuli Usiku, making it more tangential, more real. She was so immersed in the story that she barely realized that it was different from the version she had first read. “...But all was not well, for after many years fell, Kivuli Usiku found the village full of victims of pillage. The Kivuli Usiku searched the corpses, hoping to hear any zebra’s voices. But it was not to be, and death was all she could see.” Twilight’s eyes widened, tears filling up as Zecora’s tone grew low and melancholic. “She found Pundamilia that day, and she had made the invading gryphon bandits pay. But her eyes were sightless, and the hoof that held the black dagger-gift lifeless.” “In a storm of anger and flame, a harbinger the Kivuli Usiku became. To Gryphonia she brought her hurricane of rage, and that is the story’s last sorrowful page.” Zecora bowed her head in silence, and the smoke disappeared. “I’ve never heard that ending,” said Twilight, with a sniff. She had found some alternate versions of the story in her studies, but nothing as tragic as this. “A Zebrican tale changes every time it is spoken from ear to ear. But that is why they are such a pleasure to hear,” said Zecora. Thanking Zecora for her tale, Twilight said her goodbyes, and left the hut quickly, saying she needed to get home to note down Zecora’s changes to the story. While she was walking away from the cottage though, Twilight suddenly blinked, and she staggered. Desperately glancing around, she charged her horn and teleported to the library. After she zapped back into existence, Twilight galloped up to a startled Spike and grabbed him with her hooves. “Spike, do you know where our friends are?” demanded Twilight, her voice pitching up to a near-shriek. “Applejack’s home, Rarity’s with Fluttershy at the spa, Rainbow’s taking Scootaloo out for a flying lesson, and Pinkie Pie’s minding Sugarcube Corner.” Spike managed to squirm out of Twilight’s grasp, rubbing her forehoof instead in a comforting manner. “What’s wrong Twilight?” “Spike… I know you’ll think I’m crazy, and I don’t know if it’s true, but I think there might be a remote possibility that Zecora’s a changeling.” “Okay Twilight, so why do you think Zecora is a changeling? She’s been pretty cool to be around since we found out she wasn’t a witch. How could she be a changeling?” asked Rainbow. The six friends had gathered in record time and were now seated in a magically sound-proofed and warded library. “What first tipped me off was when Zecora seemed to be avoiding my questions about changelings. She said she didn’t know anything about their race, but somehow was able to identify the difference between a kelpie and a changeling. I’ve never even heard of a kelpie. If they’re real, pony folklore must have confused them with changelings for hundreds of years. Yet she separated the two so quickly that it’s unlikely she knows nothing else about the changeling race.” Twilight then took out the book on Zebrican legends she had been reading. “Zecora then told me of a Zebrican legend where a changeling queen and a Zebrican shamaness worked together to defeat a common enemy. Except her tale was very different from the version I’ve read. Now, most Zebrican tales weren’t transcribed. Their culture is primarily oral-based and there were many different versions of the same tale. This wouldn’t be a problem, but I cross-referenced several different versions of the tale she told me, and her version is the only one that ends in the changeling point of view, or even addresses what happens to the changeling queen after the events of the story.” Trotting to her desk, Twilight picked up the tiny vial of green powder and held it in the light. “But most of all, I’ve been thinking about the green powder Zecora seems rather fond of using in her potions and smoke illusions. Have you noticed anything about the shade of the powder?” Her friends examined the vial, Pinkie somehow pulling out a looking glass to examine it even closer, but it was Rarity who spoke first. “Oh my, it looks like the same color as a changeling’s green-colored magic.” Rarity raised an eyebrow. “But green magic isn’t a color that is unique to changelings, Twilight. Sweetie Belle has green colored magic as well.” “Exactly, Rarity. I was wondering if this was perhaps a coincidence. Luckily, she was using a lot of her powder to tell me that story of hers. That meant I could collect the bits of Zecora’s powder that had gotten stuck in my mane. I then had Spike light a scroll on fire.” Twilight picked up two sheets of paper that listed a bunch of tabled values, and placed them on her desk. “The scroll-transmission spell Alternia placed on Spike’s dragon breath is cast with her changeling magic. Burnt scrolls leave residue of that magic. I compared the residue of Alternia’s magic to Zecora’s powder, and while I know this graph may be a bit too complicated for you to understand” —Rainbow Dash chuckled— “the matching values here, here, and here, suggest only one thing. That the magic powder Zecora is using matches the properties of Alternia’s changeling magic, which means Zecora is somehow capable of using changeling magic. Even if this doesn’t mean she’s a changeling, I want to know how she can do this.” Applejack nodded, rubbing her chin with a hoof. “She might not be a changeling, Twilight, but what you’ve pointed out is mighty suspicious.” “There's also the fact she's living in the Everfree forest.” Every pony turned to stare at Fluttershy, who tried unsuccessfully to hide behind her tail. “What do you mean, Fluttershy?” asked Rarity. “I love animals, and I’ve lived a long time on the edge of the Everfree, but even I wouldn’t feel completely safe living in the middle of the forest. It's dangerous, not so much in the afternoon, but especially at night. But Zecora lives in there without any problems at all without any magic other than her potions. I know she has certain skills, but if she was a changeling...” “Then she would have the capabilities to repel any dangerous animals! Good thinking, Fluttershy,” said Rarity. “But what will we say to her? I mean she’s not going to just admit it,” said Rainbow, throwing her hooves up in exasperation. “Oh that's easy, Rainbow. We go to her house, strap her in a chair and—” “Uh, Pinkie, even if Zecora is a changeling, she’s been nothing but nice to us. Why do we need to strap her in a chair?” asked Twilight. Pinkie looked at them with an arched eyebrow. “So we can feed her cookies and friendship until she cracks and fesses up. What else would you think I was suggesting?” The other ponies and the dragon glanced at each other, and shrugged. “Why don’t we just ask her a few questions about the discrepancies? That way we can subtly make it clear how it won’t really change how we see her as a zebra, or changeling. After all, she’s been a good friend to us and Ponyville and if she was really there to harm us, she could have done so a long time ago,” suggested Rarity. Twilight frowned and nodded. “That’s not a bad idea, Rarity, but we’ll have to be careful. We’re definitely not calling the Royal Guard, but Spike should remain at the library and be ready to send a message to the Princess if we don’t return quickly enough.” Twilight, the rest of her friends nodding in agreement. Applejack, putting her stetson back on her head, grinned. “Well, I think we’ve settled everything reasonably enough. It’s a bit late tonight, but tomorrow, we can go and speak to Zecora.” Everyone woke up early in the morning, and had a very fast breakfast at Twilight’s. Then, as Spike waved them off, the ponies walked quickly into the Everfree Forest. They were eager for answers, and curious as to what lay ahead. None of them expected this. Upon entering the clearing to Zecora’s hut, they found the zebra outside. That in and of itself wasn’t unusual. But the fact that she was talking to a changeling kneeling at her hooves was. It was like an shootout from those new-fangled Wild West films. The two parties stared at each other with wide, unblinking eyes, waiting, daring each other to make the first move. “Hi,” squeaked Twilight. Zecora motioned the changeling to rise before turning to Twilight. “Good afternoon, Twilight Sparkle.” Zecora winced. “I must say, I did not expect you to return so soon.” “So you are a changeling?” asked Twilight. Zecora nodded. “Indeed. You suspected?” “Yes. The green powder, knowing the difference between a kelpie and a changeling, plus the fact that you live in the Everfree forest with impunity.” Twilight managed a smile. “We don’t think any less of you, though.” Though it was very weird for Twilight to hear Zecora not speaking in rhyme. Zecora’s eyebrows shot up, before relaxing. “I am surprised. Even after the Royal Wedding, you still treat our kind civilly?” “As you’ve heard, Equestria only desires peace with changelings. I admit, I had my reservations, but after hearing why Queen Chrysalis attacked us, I know that changelings are as deserving of friendship as ponies,” said Twilight in a firm tone. Purple met grey as the unicorn and zebra locked gazes, watching each other’s expressions. As the silence dragged on, Twilight bit the inside of her lip. Finally, Zecora spoke up. “In that case, would you accompany me to the peace conference at Camp Draco?” Twilight blinked, and nodded eagerly, but then a frown creased her brow. “Yes, but shouldn’t you tell the Queen of your hive first?” Twilight suddenly blinked and her eyes widened as she remembered the changeling that had bowed to ‘Zecora.’ “Unless you…” Zecora chuckled, her lips pulling back to reveal her brilliant white teeth. “I am the queen of my hive, Twilight. There is no changeling that I answer to.” The revelation caught Twilight off guard, and she took a moment to gawk at Zecora along with the rest of her friends. A changeling queen! But why would a changeling queen impersonate a zebra shaman? A sheepish smile pulled at Zecora’s lips as Twilight voiced the question. “To be honest, I was overseeing my hive’s efforts to observe you and your friends, Twilight Sparkle. It is not every day that six mares purify an alicorn from legend who plunged the world into eternal night.” Twilight harumphed, but she could hardly fault “Zecora’s” curiosity. “Fair enough, but what is your name and the name of your hive?” asked Twilight. Oddly enough, Zecora paused. “That is something that will have to wait until I reach the conference. I’d rather not repeat myself. Besides, I’d really like to travel privately, though I’d appreciate it if you could send a message to Princess Celestia in advance.” The excuse seemed flimsy, but in light of recent events, Twilight could understand why Zecora wanted to get to the conference with a minimum of fuss. Remnants of Equestria First were still active, after all. “Alright, can you come to my library first? We can write the letter there.” Camp Draco, the same morning, some time before contact with Zecora... If I had to comment on the one thing my sister seemed to have taught her daughters the best, it would be posture. Lamia was standing on three legs, but in spite of her handicap, she managed to hold her head up high as I examined her scars. No easy feat for a changeling that was born on four legs. As I gently stroked the scar on her cheek with my hoof, Lamia sighed. “Princess Celestia, I don’t think there is anything you can do. My mother went to our best healers and tried multiple spells. Nothing worked.” I winced at the despondent tone of my niece’s voice. It made me more glad than ever that the majority of Equestria First was finally locked away in the dungeons where they belonged. Pulling back from examining Lamia’s injured face, my eyes met hers. “I have a theory. I don’t think I can heal the tissue, it has been too long since the injury was inflicted. What I might be able to do is to give you a prosthetic to replace your leg.” Lamia’s one eye widened. “Really? My mother searched Equestria for a viable prosthetic, but it doesn’t seem you have a big need for them, and so her options were limited.” My heart shook at the pleading tone in her voice. “That is correct, but now that we are about to sign the treaty, Equestria’s full resources can be dedicated to make a custom prosthetic for you. It should be relatively easy as your stump can still move, and possesses the sensation of touch.” I sighed. “But the eye cannot be recovered. Even if we had the technology to replicate an optic replacement, the nerve is damaged.” Once again, I had to resist the urge to hug Lamia as her face fell. “So a new eye isn’t an option?” “At least not a working prosthetic. But there is this.” I levitated a glass case I had brought onto the nearby dressing table, as well a larger briefcase. Opening the glass case, I exposed its velvet lining and row upon row of— “Glass eyes. I have several colors and sets for you to try out. You can have a matching green pair”—I lifted one of the eyes out of the cushioned interior —“or go for something more unique.” I levitated a purple eye, allowing Lamia to compare the two. Lamia levitated both of the eyes in her magic and looked at herself in the small hoof-held mirror I brought with me. “Cool! I can add purple to my collection! Oh is that amaranth? I’ve never seen a glass eye of that color.” I blinked. “You collect glass eyes?” Lamia nodded. “After I was injured, my mother scoured Equestria for a number of replacement eyes. I didn’t like using them, but I like to collect them.” I nodded slowly. Well, there were odder hobbies for a changeling to pursue. I suppose I should be glad that Lamia’s wasn’t too creepy. “What is that, by the way?” asked Lamia, pointing to the briefcase on the table. I grinned. I couldn’t resist. Stepping aside, I unclasped the briefcase. “This is just a temporary measure until the treaty is finalized, and until we can consider all the options available.” “But what is it?” Lamia glared at me with her single eye. “It better not be some sort of mask. If I have to wear a hideous thing like that I’d rather show my scars for the world to see.” That wasn’t surprising. Lamia could be as proud and stubborn as her mother if she wanted to. “No, it’s not a mask. Just a small gift to help you walk.” I opened the case and took the object out. Lamia stared in awe, her mouth agape. I had a similar reaction when I had received the piece. Shortly after my fencing lesson with Lamia, I had used my personal measurements for reference and calculated the measurements of Lamia’s legs from observation. I then had some of Equestria’s best mechanical engineers and clockmakers work on the prosthetic, using part of my own personal stipend to fund their efforts. The result was a beautiful aluminum-framed mechanical prosthetic that would swing and lock according to Lamia’s natural walking rhythm, depending on the position of her stump. A variety of polished and oiled gears, springs, and belts could be seen within the workings of the two-jointed prosthetic, which enabled it to move as it did. The hoof and knee joints were chrome-plated to prevent rust from forming, and springs cushioned the leg and provided tension. “Do you want to try it out?” I asked. Lamia nodded numbly, so I gently strapped the leg’s cushioned, shoe-like mouth onto her leg's stump. After I had secured the final belt, Lamia moved her stump down, and her eyes widened as the whirring gears placed the hoof firmly on the ground. “What do you think?” Lamia’s eye filling with tears. “It’s… I’m… ” I smiled, watching her lift the leg up and push it back down. She took a step, and another one, and another. Soon she was walking slowly and unevenly around the room, her guards staring at her in amazement. She finally stopped in front of me, her eyes looking at her new leg in disbelief, and heart-warming joy. “The leg does have limitations. It could be lighter, and it won’t flex, and its range of motion is restricted only to walking, so you cannot gallop with it, but—” A warm hoof wrapped around my neck as Lamia threw herself at me. I stopped talking, and held my niece in my right hoof, as she cried. “Thank you, Celestia.” I closed my eyes, my smile widening even further. “You are most welcome.” I held her for a while. I doubted I would have another opportunity like this in the future, so I savored the feeling of my niece embracing me. Lamia finally pulled away, eyes averted. “Um, sorry. I, uh... don’t know what came over me.” “No worries. Now to take it off, simply loosen the leather straps and—” Just then, a flash of green magic appeared near my head, and a letter popped into existence. With a practiced flex of my magic, I caught it, unsealed it and opened it. “What was that?” asked Lamia. “A letter from my student, who sends it using her dragon assistant’s flame magic,” I said in a nonchalant manner. I was too busy skimming the letter. Then my eyes widened and my mouth opened slightly. “According to my student, she found a changeling queen near Ponyville and they are all on their way here as we speak.” Lamia gasped. “What? Who?” “She said she would tell us when she meet us because she wants to travel privately.” I frowned at that, but her wish was reasonable. I just needed to tell Twilight to bring a couple of guards with her. “We need to inform the others, I think they are still in the dining hall,” said Lamia, taking a big step toward the door. “Lamia, don’t—” Too late. The prosthetic leg, not having been designed for galloping, took too short a step. Lamia tripped, and if I hadn’t caught her with my magic, she would have kissed the floor. Staggering to her hooves, Lamia grunted, experimentally flexing her prosthetic again. “Right, no running. And I’m going to need practice using this.” Sighing, Lamia turned to me. “Princess Celestia, would you mind helping me take the leg off? I’m more used to running with three legs. Besides—” Lamia grinned. “—I want to surprise my mother.” I mirrored her expression. “Of course. Now this strap is tied here…”