Harsh Light
I guess I should start by mentioning that I was pretty nervous, even before I got to the castle. I mean, requesting an audience with Princess Celestia would probably be pretty daunting for anypony, right? And I think it's safe to say I had even more reason than most for feeling pretty anxious. Even though it was my idea, I couldn't help but feel plagued by doubts.
All of my instincts as an infiltrator suggested that exposing myself like this would be disastrous; trust wasn't a concept I had much inclination towards. I kept trying to remind myself that I was hedging my bets; I couldn't really go back to Hive Chrysalis and live openly there, and I couldn't bear to make my wife hide my secret indefinitely. It actually calmed me a little to think that this wasn't really a choice; it was the only sensible course to take, so I just had to survive it.
It was a lot more calming to remember that these were the same ponies, the same society my wife had come from, and trusted unconditionally. She's a really good judge of character; knew me better than I knew myself, knew she could trust me before I even realized it. Still, she hadn't been too happy about my idea; it was so risky, and we had just been engaged when I approached her about it.
I had wanted to speak with Celestia before we were married, in case things went bad, but she wouldn't hear of it. “If something happens to you,” she had said, “then I'll share in it.” So here I was, sitting on my rump and fidgeting nervously in a royal audience chamber just two days after my honeymoon.
And more scared than I had ever been in my life. I mean, I had expected to maybe make an appointment, or be sent away without a second thought, or maybe be allowed to see Celestia in a court of some kind, with no chance at privacy.
Yeah, imagine my surprise when the secretary got back from checking with the advisors and told me that I would be waiting in a private audience chamber. I'm sure the look on my face was priceless.
Probably not as funny as the look on my face when Celestia marched into the audience chamber, just minutes after I had been sent there, though.
She just strolled right in, as serene and graceful as I had been led to believe, and casually closed the door behind her with magic as she took a seat across from me. My mind was already firing on overdrive when she said the scariest sentence I've ever heard.
“Hello there, Stargazer. How's your wife doing?”
That probably sounds innocuous, right? But trust me, to an infiltrator, it was anything but. She didn't say 'Stargazer, right?', oh no, she knew exactly whom she was speaking to. Something about how she said it made me feel like she really knew a lot about me.
And then that little comment about me being married. I wasn't just some random face to her, here for an audience. She had, at the very least, inquired after me, and judging by the private audience, she had been expecting me.
That's about the time I catalogued every possible escape route from that little audience chamber, and the greater palace. Think of it as a sort of infiltrator reflex, I guess. I had this horrible creeping feeling that I had been made, or that I was being set up, or that some kind of net was closing on me. I didn't even realize until I heard her reply that I had told her that things were fine.
“I'm so glad to hear that,” she said, my nerves as frayed as anything, “I regret not having attended the ceremony in person.”
Now what the heck did THAT mean? Yeah yeah, bet I seem paranoid, huh? Bet all of that seems pretty harmless, and you're thinking, 'You shouldn't freak out so much over nothing.'
Well, here's the thing. Turns out that my crazy nervous conspiracy theories were right on the money. See, I was pretty nervous, and I decided that the best way to deal with that was to just get right out there and say it.
Yeah. I just looked right at Princess Celestia and told her, 'I'm a changeling.'
No real explanation. No real introduction. Just, that. Right there.
And her response? “I know.”
And I just sorta stared at her for a while. I mean, what do you say to that? You tell someone, basically, that you're a spy, and they just smugly inform you that this isn't news.
How did she know? How long did she know, before I told her?
I decided to just settle for asking her what that meant for me.
“You've married an Equestrian citizen; you are an Equestrian citizen now – at least, if that's acceptable to you.”
I wanted to tell her that it was more than acceptable. It was the best possible way this could have gone, it was precisely how I hoped it would go.
Heck, I'd be able to tease my wife about how I'd been right about it not being such a big deal, even though I'd been freaking out at least as hard as she had about it.
But I didn't say any of those things. Not right away, anyway. I just sort of sat there for a while, frozen, just sort of... letting the stress bleed off of me.
I was almost crying. That was so weird, for me; I didn't mean to cry, but it was so close to happening, when I hadn't even realized it sneaking up on me. Maybe being around ponies was making me soft, or maybe I just finally didn't feel like I had to hide everything so much.
Still didn't, though. I mean, I wasn't going to blubber right in front of Celestia. I still have some pride, you know.
Then again, I ended up staring her down, instead, like some sort of disgruntled statue. She just kept that serene gaze and smile up for a while, and I actually wondered whether or not she had infinite patience – or if she had secretly found a way to doze off entirely while staring at someone.
Then her grin turned smug, and she said, “Was that all?”
Oh, man. Calling me out on being stunned into silence like that just chaffed. Here I had been sitting there, trying to figure out what her game was, and I sort of thought she was doing the same – feeling me out, you know?
But she was just amused by me. Not the least bit threatened, or worried. I almost felt insulted.
So of course I said that wasn't all. I mean, in truth, it sort of was – I hadn't expected it to be that easy, or for her to apparently care so little. I asked her why she was willing to trust me.
Seems like an odd thing for an infiltrator to say, I know. I mean, we're trained never to call attention to someone's trust for us, or their growing dependence. Keep ponies from noticing that, that's how you lure them in, and all.
But I really just couldn't figure it out. And Celestia smiled – a sort of warm, charitable smile. I had figured on something smug, but instead she just seemed... sympathetic?
And all she said was, “Cadance.”
I was going to ask her to clarify, but that felt like it would be admitting weakness. And then it hit me; Princess Cadance. She had visited a couple of weeks prior to the wedding, ostensibly to buy a few of the special crystal star-flowers we make.
That had made sense; she was in charge of the Crystal Empire, after all, and the flowers had been both inspired by the empire's architecture, and become very popular there.
Nope. All a ruse. It was just a cover for her to swing by and see us.
We had been so nervous about her visit, so worried that she might figure me out... and it turns out, she had known all along.
Suddenly, her parting comment about us being 'such a lovely couple' stuck home a lot harder. I realized how transparent my wife's actions to protect me must have been to someone who knew what to look for.
I had been played, and I just shook my head at Celestia like a schoolnymph being shown magic for the first time. That got a laugh out of her, and I started laughing too. Somehow, it felt like I could join in on it, rather than feeling embarassed.
The whole situation, all of the skullduggery and manipulation... it was all so stupid. So unnecessary and unimportant – that's what I had learned, and why I had gotten married. This whole spy gig, infiltration, nations, hives, all of this stuff that I had thought was so important before...
It was just so childish. I never thought I'd be one of those smug married people, saying stuff like, 'Yeah, it won't seem so important once you meet someone special', but here I am.
And y'know, I told Celestia that, and she seemed to get what I meant completely. “If you don't see how important love is,” she'd said, “you can't understand why a nation is important anyway.”
And right there, I felt like I got why Equestria is such a cool place. We just sort of sat and talked for a while, and I kind of started to relax. To feel at home, a little. And then I worked my way around to what I had meant to ask her all along; whether or not I had to keep hiding.
Whether or not I could live openly as a changeling, not having to hide and fear discovery for the rest of my days.
“I'd like nothing better than to make Equestria a place where changelings can live openly,” she said matter-of-factly, looking a little distant for once, “but I worry about how the changeling Queen may react to such a thing. If possible, I would prefer to negotiate a peace with her, where our subjects can interact in harmony.”
That had me sit and think for a while. It was clear that she had thought this through, and by the way she was looking at me, it was like she was begging me to say something, to give some sign.
And I eventually realized what she was asking – or not asking – of me. It seemed like treason, to consider facilitating talks between the hive – which relied on secrecy for survival – and Equestria. There was no way to do it that wouldn't involve revealing the hive's location.
And it wasn't my call to make. Even though I desperately loved my wife, and I wanted to be a part of Equestria, I couldn't make that decision on behalf of all of the other changelings. I explained that – haltingly – to Celestia, hoping against hope that she would understand the position I was in. Celestia listened, nodding sympathetically, and her eyes seemed regretful when she finally spoke her mind.
“If you live openly as a changeling, it will draw attention. Other changelings will also want asylum, no doubt, and when word gets back to the hive... it's important that we negotiate with Chrysalis before that happens, to salvage any chance of this working out peacefully. But I understand why you feel you cannot make choices on behalf of others without their consent, which is why...”
Celestia sighed, and I braced myself for the worst.
“... Which is why I must ask something difficult of you. You already possess Equestrian citizenship – given your marriage, that's beyond question. As such, I would like to ask you... to become Equestria's ambassador to the hive, and help us open relations. You wouldn't have to reveal the hive's location to anyone; you could go, unescorted if you prefer, to the hive until such a time as you secure an agreement – or at least convince them to send an ambassador of their own. Do you... accept this charge?”
Celestia held that look of guilt from earlier, and I rapidly understood why. This was dangerous, in a few ways. As a changeling in Equestria, I would likely be unwelcome – at least at first. And now I was being asked to become a liaison for the Equestrian government; I could very easily be seen as a traitor by some of my own kind.
It was a dangerous mission, and if things went bad, I might end up with nowhere to go.
I accepted. She seemed surprised, but I explained to her that this was nothing new to me; my life as a spy had been little different from what she was suggesting, and I'd felt like I had nowhere to go ever since I had proposed.
If there was even a small chance that I might be welcome in both Equestria and the hive, someday... it was worth fighting for.
Celestia thanked me, and asked something rather odd of me. She said that many changelings out there may still be hesitant to come forward, and that it might help if they knew what it had been like for me.
So she asked me to write it down.