A Pony's Heart

by CTVulpin

Turnip and Harlequin

Cabbage Patch stood stiffly just behind the closed stage curtain, fighting down a lump in her throat. This was the second night of attempting to open the show, and she’d failed to emit more than a faint squeak on the first night. Trixie had come to her rescue, with the audience unaware that the troupe had had something other than Trixie’s usual introduction planned, and the azure showmare was standing next to Cabbage again tonight. Cabbage doubted she could adequately explain how much that lifeline’s mere existence helped her confidence, nor how relieved she’d been that Turnip hadn’t criticized or mocked her failure of the previous night. The Changeling was still acting cold toward the rest of the troupe, but at least he hadn’t been overtly hostile since he and Cabbage had made their deal.

Cabbage felt a sudden urge to peek through the curtains, but held herself back. She knew that not only was it a bad idea to give a definite size and faces to the audience whose attention was causing most of her anxiety, but it was highly unprofessional to break the curtain line before the show began. Instead, she fidgeted with her costume and then slid the gaudy mask over her face. As soon as the mask was in place, to her surprise, Cabbage felt a lot of her anxiety fade, enough to allow her to relax her muscles and take a deep breath. She looked to Trixie and gave her a nervous smile and a nod. Trixie smiled and stepped back, gesturing for Cabbage to proceed.

Cabbage inhaled as she adjusted her voice, and then bellowed in perfect imitation of Princess Luna, “Fillies and Gentlecolts! We are proud to welcome you to this performance by The Great Trixie’s Royal Thespians!” A wave of surprise flowed through the curtains from the audience and Cabbage paused for a second to study it. She sensed a powerful undercurrent of amazement and delight, and so she continued her spiel with more enthusiasm. “Prepare yourselves for a most exciting hour of acrobatics, swashbuckling tales of the high sea and heroics, jaw-dropping magic, and – as a special treat – a showcasing of the last surviving Changeling in Equestria!” She felt Turnip send a mental sigh in her direction, but she let the audience’s reactions drown the thought out and wrapped up the introductions. “To open the show, please welcome to the stage Harlequin, tumbler and acrobat extraordinare!”

Polite applause greeted Harlequin as he rolled out from behind the parting curtain. Trixie and Cabbage quickly withdrew to the wings before the curtain could reveal them, and once safely out of sight Cabbage lifted her mask and beamed. “I did it!” she whispered.

“I knew you could,” Trixie replied. “Now go get changed; I’ll take things from here.” Cabbage nodded and went to exchange the dress for her sea pony suit.

Turnip and his cage were right next to the costume rack, and as Cabbage swapped clothes the Changeling gave her an approving nod. “So you do keep your word,” he said, “even if it does take a false start or two.”

Cabbage turned her nose up slightly at Turnip. “A little over a month ago the mere thought of doing that intro would’ve made me freeze up for hours,” she said, “so I am not going to let your criticisms get me down.” She did up the last of the hidden fasteners on her sea pony tail and crawled toward the water tank with as much dignity as possible.

Harlequin’s opening act ended and Barnacle Salt’s came up next as usual. Cabbage tried to relax into her sea pony role, but her thoughts kept drifting ahead to Harlequin and Turnip’s act. The previous night, when she’d tried and failed to do the opening spiel, Turnip had at least engaged with Harlequin’s taunts, but it had only been a half-hearted effort that still left the acrobat floundering after a few minutes. Cabbage hoped that the Changeling would be more cooperative in this show.

When the curtain closed in front of her tank and Barnacle retired from the front of the stage, Cabbage risked a glance over to where Turnip’s cage stood ready to swap places with her tank. Turnip met her gaze with a smile and a brief mental touch that assured her the expression was genuine. Cabbage heaved a relieved sigh after hauling herself out of the tank, and then rolled out of the way of Trixie and Maggie Pie as they moved the set pieces around. Harlequin took the stage again as Maggie threw the sheet over the cage and pushed it through the curtain, and Cabbage hopped over to the costume area as the act began.

By the time she’d dried off and hung the sea pony costume up, the emotions flowing from the audience were making her slightly giddy. Harlequin was still not a perfect storyteller and his jokes were uninspired, but Turnip was making the best of it and earning an unprecedented amount of sympathy and positive opinion from the audience. The act ended on a high note, and the rest of the show passed in a happy blur for little Cabbage.

After the show, Cabbage went to remind Turnip about his half of their promise, but the Changeling just walked by her without a word and approached Harlequin. “Harlequin,” Turnip said, “I want to apologize for the way I’ve been treating you.”

Harlequin gave the Changeling a confused look. “You mean all the insults and cold shoulder treatments?” he asked, then waved a hoof in dismissal. “No harm done.”

“No,” Turnip said, “I mean for not opening up to your feelings.”

“Eh?” Harlequin said, now completely confused.

“How do I put this?” Turnip mused. “I’ve been aware of how you really feel about our insult-trading bits, but I resented what that meant and shut you out. Not only was that petty of me regarding what Cabbage Patch is trying to accomplish, but among the Changelings it’s absolutely rude to reuse to share emotions. I apologize for that and…” He put on a shy smile. “Can we start over? Be friends?”

Harlequin regarded the Changeling for a long moment, keeping his face impassive, but then he broke out into a huge cheesy grin and grabbed the Changeling in a hug before Turnip could dodge out of the way. “Aw,” Harlequin said, putting enough sap into his voice to fill a syrup bottle, “I thought you’d never ask.” He made as if to kiss Turnip, but the Changeling shoved a hoof into his face.

“Let’s keep it at friendship for now,” Turnip said. “I don’t like you that much yet.”

The scene was too much for the rest of the troupe, and everypony broke down into laughter as Harlequin released Turnip and clapped him on the back. Turnip took in the amusement of the ponies around him, and after a deep sigh he returned the laughter with a smile. He turned to Cabbage and, once the little Changeling got her giggles under control, he said, “You haven’t won yet, you know. Let’s see how long these ponies can keep this attitude up.”

Cabbage started to reply, but Trixie beat her to it, saying with a smug glint in her eyes, “Challenge accepted.”

---

The following week, as the troupe continued toward Manehatten, showed a dramatic change in Turnip’s attitude and, by extension, the morale of the ponies and Cabbage Patch. After the wagon was packed up and the Royal Thespians were on the road, Turnip would walk beside Harlequin in his purple pony disguise – even taking the occasional turn helping to pull the wagon – and give the acrobat notes on improving his Changeling mockery. Turnip shared insults and epithets he’d heard over the years that didn’t center on insect puns, as well as stories of legendary failures in pony kidnappings and impersonations.

“I think my favorite comes from roughly five hundred years ago,” he related one day. “The target was a mare in a small city: nopony particularly important but with a comfortable life and lots of love to take. The Changeling targeting her spent weeks observing her to learn who her important ponies were, her daily routine, personality and mannerisms, all the important stuff. What they failed to learn in all that time, however, was that she had an identical twin who lived in a different part of the city.”

“Oh, let me guess,” Harlequin cut in, “The sister came for a visit right after the Changeling stepped into the role, and she outed it?”

“Not quite,” Turnip said. “When the Changeling went to kidnap the target, they accidently grabbed the twin instead, and then went to the target’s home to find both her and her husband sitting down to lunch. Rather than try to improvise their way out, the Changeling just panicked and fled, and only later managed to piece together just how they’d screwed up.”

Harlequin laughed, and then went into deep thought on the material he could extract from the tale. Cabbage had come up to Turnip then and said, “That sounded like the sort of cautionary tales they’d tell nymphs in the hive, but I can’t recall ever hearing that one before.”

“There’s a lot of Changeling lore you missed out on, being exiled when you were,” Turnip replied.

“I never got the feeling we cared much for lore in the first place, come to think of it” Cabbage said.

“Well,” Turnip said, “when everyling is on the brink of starvation…” Cabbage sensed evasiveness in the other Changeling’s thoughts, but his excuse didn’t give her an opening to pry comfortably, so she let the topic drop. On top of acting more friendly to everypony in the troupe, Turnip had become more open with his thoughts and feelings in the mini Hive Mind the two Changelings shared, and what Cabbage sensed was good-natured enough that she was willing to let Turnip keep some secrets.

---

At a stop two days out from Manehatten, the troupe pulled everything out of the wagon for a good cleaning and comprehensive inventory check. Generally, each performer was responsible for their own props and set pieces, while Cabbage and Maggie shared responsibility for maintaining the costumes (except Trixie’s, which the unicorn guarded jealously) and cleaning the wagon itself. Turnip took charge of the performance cage, wiping it down and checking the joints from inside where he didn’t have to be disguised.

“Hey, Quin,” Turnip said as the acrobat happened to walk by, “how much longer do you think we’re going to need this cage? I’ve started getting ideas of what we could do if I weren’t ‘locked up’ on the stage.”

“You’re the emotion detector,” Harlequin responded. “You tell me. You think the public is ready for an unfettered predator in front of them?”

Turnip pondered for a moment, but before he could reach a conclusion he heard Barnacle Salt announce the approach of some ponies. All work stopped as the troupe turned to look at the group of five ponies walking up with purpose. Two of them were holding signs that read “Free the Changeling” and “Down with animal cruelty!”

“This ought to be good,” Turnip muttered, sensing the animosity coming from the group.

The entire troupe, Cabbage included, gathered protectively between the cage and the protestors, with Trixie standing slightly in front of the rest in her position as troupe leader. “Can Trixie help you?” she asked testily.

“We’re here to protest your treatment of that Changeling,” one of the protesters snapped.

“You don’t say,” Trixie deadpanned.

“It’s a rare, endangered species,” the protester continued, “and it deserves better than to be kept in a tiny cage and displayed like a cheap carnival sideshow attraction.”

Trixie opened her mouth to retort, but Turnip spoke over her. “You know what?” he said languidly. “You’re right. I don’t belong in here.” He lifted the latch, opened the door carefully to not smack Barnacle Salt with it, and stepped out. The protesters all took a step back and one of their signs dropped to the ground. “That better?” Turnip asked, giving his best, fang-filled smile. The protesters screamed and stampeded away as a unit. “Thought so,” Turnip grumbled.

“Guess that answers our question,” Harlequin said, laying a comforting hoof on Turnip’s back. “Sorry, buddy.”

“Ah, forget them,” Turnip said. “And buck their sensibilities; I am more than a scary face in a cage, and I’m going to prove it. Come on Harlequin, we’ve got a new act to plan.” He dragged the yellow earth pony over to the wagon.

“Uh,” Cabbage said, giving Trixie a worried look, “are you going to…”

“I’m going to at least see what Turnip’s thought up before I say yes or no,” the azure showmare said, “but if it means we can ditch this dumb cage, I think I’ll be inclined to allow it.”

---

“Good day, fillies and gentlecolts,” Harlequin said, emerging from the stage-left side of the curtain, “today I will be-”

“Hey!” shouted a second Harlequin from stage-right, “who do you think you are?”

“I’m Harlequin,” the first pony said, glaring at his double.

“No, I’m Harlequin,” the second insisted with a matching glare. “You must be a Changeling!”

The first Harlequin flinched as if struck, and in a flare of green fire revealed himself to actually be Turnip. “Oh woe, I’ve been discovered,” he said in total deadpan before putting his Harlequin disguise back in place. “As if it would make any difference. I bet can match your moves so perfectly that those ponies out there,” he waved at the audience, “won’t know who is who by the end.”

“What’s this?” Harlequin exclaimed, “A challenge? Well, I accept.” The pair of mustard-yellow earth ponies then launched into a tumbling routine that sent them twisting and rolling over, under, and around one another as well as behind the curtain several times. It would have been an impressive display of acrobatics and confusion, except that Turnip’s inexperience with acrobatic tumbling gave him away at every turn, so that Cabbage didn’t even need to probe the pair’s minds to pick the Changeling out.

Trixie was predictably underwhelmed, but she gave Harlequin and Turnip a charitable nod. “I can see the potential in such an act,” she said, “and the conceit of challenging the audience to pick out the Changeling is a fitting parallel to my own participation shtick. However, it’s going to need a lot of work before you do it in front of a real audience.”

“No argument here,” Turnip said. “All that tumbling is harder than it looks.”

“Yes,” Trixie said, “but you’re not the only one who has kinks to work out. Quin, that dialogue between you and Turnip is too corny and quick. Try to make it sound more… natural.”

“Cut me some slack,” Harlequin grumbled, “I barely had any time to write it.”

“Well, you’ll have plenty of time once we’re packed up and on our way to Manehatten,” Trixie said.

Comments

[DracoDarastrix]

Okay it has been some time I had laughed this much from a fimfiction story, so here have a cookie and keep on the good work.

[Darksymphony777]

Truth with the protester part so much Truth