That little filly from Cloudsdale has blossomed into a true mare of Respite with the help of those not-quite altruistic twins. But outside the village gates, the world is changing fast.
That little filly from Cloudsdale has blossomed into a true mare of Respite with the help of those not-quite altruistic twins. Joined by their bubbly friend, Toola Roola, they're ready to take their first steps into adulthood. But outside the village gates, the world is changing fast.
Can Sure Stroke and her friends keep up? Or will their happy life in that village hidden in the untamed Neighagara Forest take a turn as the world comes knocking at their door?
The young mare staring back at her in the mirror had changed much over the past several years. For the better, Sure Stroke should like to think.
Gone was the foal fat which once filled her cheeks. The little pudge in her belly had shrunken, chased away by years of running and playing in the forest with her friends and boyfriend when they managed to convince her to put away her sketchpad and tug her out from under her favorite tree. She stood head and shoulders over her dresser, enough that she could simply reach over and pluck one of her mane ties out of the waiting cup rather than having to rear up on her hind legs to peer over the edge.
Or, she recalled, a tiny smile tugging at her lips as the memory played before her eyes, flying up because I’d pushed it back somehow.
With practiced ease, she took a blue mane tie in hoof while gathering her purple mane up in the other, deftly stretching the tie to encircle her long, flowing locks. The tip of her tongue poked through her lips, her sky blue eyes were wide, alight with the same focus she put into her beautiful paintings and awe-inspiring sketches.
A quick twist and push of her mane through locked it all in place. Sure Stroke tugged her hooves away, beaming at her reflection as she took in her typical high ponytail and fluffed her violet feathers.
Perfect! She was ready at long last.
Ready for Trade Day.
By happenstance, it fell on the same day as the Summer Sun Celebration this year. Which meant the villagers of Respite, changeling and pony alike, would take it as opportunity to host a double celebration.
One for the Princess of Day, Celestia. The other for the young mares, stallions, and changelings taking their first step into adulthood by declaring their trades.
She trotted over to her wooden desk, built by the Wood brothers’ careful hooves, where a stack of about forty-odd pages rested, gathered together within a lime green folder. A color which brought a smile to her face as she idly traced the edge with her hoof.
Lime green. The color of changeling slime. How fitting for the subject she’d chosen to write on over the past several years.
If only some of her notes hadn’t been so sloppy. A rueful grin played upon her lips. All those drafts she’d tossed away, even without Regale and Gale’s advice, could have been fashioned into a veritable flock of paper cranes by hooves more nimble than hers. If a certain Nimble Hooves could be pried away from her dance stage or newly-minted fiance, Peppermint, long enough to do so without tickling permissions in return.
That changeling would be tickling and dancing as long as she drew breath.
The phantom touch of warm sunlight upon her back was like a gentle reminder. There were places to be today, no time to linger and reminisce over how her life had changed during the past three years.
Sure Stroke picked up her folder and slipped it into her beaten, tattered old messenger bag, which still bore the image of her cutie mark, a sketching pencil and paintbrush crossed over one another, stitched onto the side. It was coming up on time to find a replacement bag, really. The strap, she noticed as she slung it over her shoulders, looked as though it might be about ready to give out.
Perhaps she could arrange a little trip to Manehattan after things got settled. Yes, that would be just lovely. A trip with Aspire, both for a new bag and for pleasure. Or maybe they could go somewhere new, like Baltimare. Or Canterlot.
Or Cloudsdale.
Something to consider for later.
With a merry swish of her tail, Sure Stroke swept from her room and tugged the door closed behind her before she continued on down the hall. She hung a left around the corner, walking into the kitchen where her mother, Skydancer, was putting the finishing touches on a lovely breakfast of sliced apples, pears, and blueberry muffins. At the table sat her father, Drizzly Day, with his nose buried in what looked to be the monthly weather projections, the tiniest of frowns played upon his lips.
Sure Stroke withheld a chuckle. Looks like we might be in for some storms. It is getting to be about that time of year. She trotted over to the table, leaning in to lay her chin on her father’s gray-blue shoulder and gently nuzzle his cheek. “Good morning, dad,” she greeted softly.
Drizzly Day turned his attention away from his weather reports and tilted his head so his limp, dark gray bangs shifted out of his eyes. A warm smile spread across his face as he returned the gesture. “Morning, sweetie,” he murmured. “Sleep well?”
“Like I just fed Aspire and Esalen a full meal.”
Snorting, he shook his head and planted a kiss upon her forehead. “Good to hear.” His gaze flitted to her messenger back, he tilted one ear back, the other up. “You ready for the big day?”
Was she ready?
She’d been ready for years. Everyone in her class, those who hadn’t been called up last year—like Nimble, Vector, and Zephyr—had been waiting impatiently for their time to declare a trade. It was their time, their way of finally entering adulthood.
The most important day of the year, perhaps only surpassed by Sharers’ Day itself.
“More ready than you know,” Sure Stroke answered with a waggle of her ears.
“And excited, no doubt,” her mother added. Sure Stroke looked over her shoulder just in time to catch a soft kiss on her nose before one of her mother’s sunny yellow wings was draped over her shoulders, carefully so not to disturb the plates balanced upon her back. Her eyes shone with pride. “Speaking of which, Faith has been positively buzzing with excitement for months. Won’t stop talking about you joining her.”
A dusty pink filled her cheeks. Sure Stroke ducked her head, her feathers fluffing beneath the praise. An incomprehensible mumble spilled forth from her lips as she slipped out from under her mother’s wing and found her seat at the table. Their shared mirth made her ears burn to the very tips.
They weren’t supposed to be teasing her today! Today was Trade Day, darn it! This was supposed to be the day she and all the foals and nymphs finally became adults in the eyes of all the villagers, not the usual teasing and knowing looks!
The young mare heaved a sigh and allowed a fond smile to spread across her muzzle as Skydancer set a plate of fruit and blueberry muffin down before her. Who was she kidding? They were her parents, and they all lived in a village with a race of tricksters.
The teasing had only just begun.
Sure Stroke quickly devoured her breakfast and downed a glass of cool milk. Once she finished, she rose to put her dishes in the sink, then returned to the table to collect her messenger bag and dot a kiss on her parents’ foreheads.
“Bye mom, bye dad!” she called as she dashed out the door and into the living room.
“By Celestia, filly! Where’s the fire?” Her father teased in between chuckles.
She stopped, turning to stick her head back around the door jamb. Her feathers twitched, she bounced lightly on the tips off her hooves. “Meeting Aspire and Esalen on the way!” she explained in a rush. “They want to get there early so we can get to the front of the line!” Before either could reply, Sure Stroke flared her wings and took off in a rustle of air and swirling violet feathers, hurrying out the door and into the warm morning sunlight.
Awaiting her on the dirt path leading up to her parents’ home, their forehooves raised as if to mount the first step onto the porch, were a pair of very familiar changelings.
Sunlight shone from carapaces as black as coal, caressing their every muscle and curve as if to accentuate their lithe bodies. Holes seemed to dot their legs at random, much the same as their manes of sugar pink and deep, ocean blue. They both stood nearly a head and shoulders taller than her, twin fangs poked from behind their upper lips and stopped just before the end of their chin, the tips gleaming in the sun as the tips of their forked tongues sneaked out to taste the air—to taste for her emotions. And their eyes …
Well, one could hardly overstate the changelings’ love for their mischief and tricks, especially the pair before her.
“Heya, Doodle!” they greeted in that creepy, near-perfect unison every changeling seemed to love, and waggled their chitinous ears.
Aspire and Esalen were known throughout the village as the Terrible Twins for good reason. That she was dating the former said more about her than anything.
But something was off about them. Or, rather, there was something amiss with her favorite smugling. Her Aspire.
That smug smirk spread across his muzzle was right, no doubt about that. But the way his eyes glittered, it wasn’t his way. Odd though it was to say.
Adding to her suspicion, Sure Stroke noticed the corners of Esalen’s mouth twitching every several seconds. As if she was struggling not to burst into a fit of chitters. And her eyes did gleam like the night sky full of twinkling stars.
The very same way Aspire’s did whenever he was scheming, or in the middle of a good trick.
Sure Stroke’s ears perked up, she had to fight to keep her tail from swishing gaily. Ah, so that’s their game today.
Without uttering a word, she trotted over to Esalen and planted a lingering kiss upon her lips. The young changeling blinked twice, but didn’t flinch or so much as draw in a breath. Rather, her eyelids slowly fell to fix Sure Stroke with a hooded, smoldering look, Sure Stroke could feel a smile tugging at her lips and the vibrations of an approving purr rumbling in the back of her throat as she surrendered to the kiss. One of her hooves drifted up to cup the young mare’s cheek, the tips of her forked tongue teased and probed along her lips in silent asking for entrance.
Permission Sure Stroke was quite happy to grant. A contented hum sounded in the back of her throat, muffled by Esalen’s mouth as her thick, dextrous tongue began its sensuous assault.
To her left, Aspire sputtered and gaped. “E-Excuse me!” he cried indignantly. “Are you seriously gonna slight me like this while I’m watching?”
This time, Sure Stroke couldn’t help herself. She laughed into the kiss, breaking it after another second and turned to fix the aghast changeling with a winning smile as she licked the lingering strand of saliva from her lips. “Slight Aspire? Never,” she replied. “But if you’re going to say my figuring out your trick because you can never match the look in his eyes when he’s pulling a trick, then yes, Essy, I’m slighting you. While you watch.”
The faux Esalen burst into a fit of chittering laughter and tugged her in close for a hug and playful tussling of her mane. “Told ya she’d figure it out!” she said, though in another voice, one which didn’t quite belong.
Or rather, it was her looks which didn’t belong on him.
Twin plumes of green fire washed over the twins’ bodies as they shapeshifted. Long, sugar pink mane and twin braids receded and became short, shaggy blue as deep as the ocean, shimmering pink eyes bled out and were filled with a lovely azure that must’ve been stolen straight from the sky.
Then Sure Stroke found herself squeezed tight against her loving boyfriend’s chest plate. She could feel his lips stretching into a victorious grin, and the tips of his fangs teasing against her coat as he kissed her cheek then leaned up to nuzzle her ear. “You,” he whispered huskily, the rumbling purr in his chest sent shivers down her spine, “have just earned more affection than you could possibly fathom for that, Sure Stroke.” With a playful wink, he turned to aim a smug smirk at his fuming sister. “And you owe me twenty bits. I told you she’d learned.”
An annoyed growl rolled about in the back of Esalen’s throat. She blew her sugar pink bangs out of her eyes and glared at the pair. “What gave me away?” she demanded.
Sure Stroke tossed her mane and gave the tiniest shrug of her shoulders, a calm, languid smile spread across her muzzle. “After kissing this face and all the others he’s worn for three years—” she drew back to rear up and licked his nose “—I know when it’s him or someone trying to imitate that look in his eyes. No one can match the way they gleam when he’s up to something.”
Aspire’s smirk grew. He threw out his chest, pressing his nose against hers. “See? My eyes are special, Essy.” He turned and blew a raspberry at her, still very much a nymph in a changeling’s body. “You just aren’t there yet!”
“Oh, do go on, little brother!” she hissed sweetly. “Please! Tell me more!”
Unable to resist, Sure Stroke glanced at her out of the corner of her eye and waggled her ears. “If you wanted a kiss so badly, you only had to ask,” she teased, fluffing her feathers. “Then Toola and I could really say we’d tamed the terrible twins and brought you both under wing!”
The instant the words slipped from her lips, she knew she’d pressed her luck too far. With a squeak, Sure Stroke clapped a hoof over her mouth as if to snatch them back before they reached the twins’ ears.
Their heads snapped around to fix her with matching stares, their eyes glowed green. “Oh, really?” they hissed in unison, their lips stretched into vulpine grins.
Aspire tightened his embrace, effectively trapping her. His fangs pressed against her cheek. “How quickly we go from reward to trouble, sweetheart! I think she needs remedial lessons—care to assist, Essy? I’ll wash out our bet.”
“Keep the bits, you won them fair and square,” Esalen crooned as she sauntered over to nuzzle Sure Stroke’s opposite cheek. “I’m always happy to help remind our loves what happens when they get too big for their bed wraps!”
“Mmm, and this one has gotten awful mouthy. Remember how shy and sweet she was when we first met her?”
“Oh, she was so deliciously adorable! I could’ve just eaten her right up! Whoever got to her and changed her so?”
Sure Stroke huffed a breath through her nose. With a grunt, she shoved the pair away, their merry chittering filled her ears, her cheeks tinged a dusty pink. “You two are incorrigible!”
Grinning, Aspire cantered back to her side and kissed her forehead. “You love us, though.” His eyes twinkled, he threw a hoof over her shoulders and added, “We’ll forget that little slight of yours.”
“Call it even for us betting on you?” Esalen said. “Even if you lost me twenty bits, you perceptive little pegasus.”
She couldn’t help but let out a sheepish giggle, the perfect way to disguise her relieved sigh. Absolved of a challenge because she’d been the subject of their games. The scales were balanced once more.
Such was the life of a pony among changelings.
Sure Stroke nuzzled her friend and boyfriend before taking up her usual position between them, unfurling her wings to lay them gently across their backs and tug them in close by her side while they walked into town.
Each of the three wore grins bigger and brighter than ever before. The twins were positively buzzing with excitement, and Sure Stroke felt as though she could walk on sunshine!
Today was the day at last!
Sure Stroke and the twins were hardly the only ones eager for Trade Day’s arrival. A simple fact which made itself known almost as soon as they entered Respite proper and crossed into the square.
Their classmates stood, scattered about the well-trodden dirt path, all chattering, laughing, and chittering with one another as they’d done for years. Sure Stroke let her bright blue eyes flit here and there, smiling with wonder as she ticked off all the names in her head as if she’d only now realized how they’d all grown.
Rock Solid, the big, stoic earth pony of slate gray coat and pewter mane who’d seemingly been crafted out of solid mountain with his burly chest, strong legs, and sharp jaw, towered over Allegretto, Peppermint, and Nimble Hooves. Nimble, of course, had grown up to be a genuine beauty, with her delicate shoulders, long lashes, and polished carapace which seemed to accentuate her every curve. Her violet mane was pulled back and tied into a neat bun, her eyes alight as she slyly snaked her hoof around Peppermint’s foreleg and stole a kiss to his cheek, grinning wickedly as a reddish hue spread throughout his face and neck.
Up ahead, there were Vector and Zephyr, the latter garbed in the forest green armor of the village guard. Vector had finally done away with his old mohawk style, instead growing out his teal and charcoal striped mane until it nearly touched his shoulders and letting the wind sweep it back as he flew to give him a look that had all the pegasus fillies fluttering their wings. Even Sure Stroke had to admit, it suited him quite well. Had she not been otherwise spoken for, she might see about doing the same, or taking it a step further and trailing the tips beneath his chin.
But she had Aspire. And he was quite happy to appraise her feathers and powerful wings. What more could she ask?
Zephyr still had his silvery mane nice and long, and just a bit wild when it wasn’t matted down by his helmet. He wore a small smile, his eyes drooped lazily but gleaming alertly as he chatted with his old friend, then turned to address a young mare floating a clipboard along in her magic who never failed to ruin a good time.
Sure Stroke had to groan. Of course I’d have to deal with her snippy little self today. With a roll of her eyes, she turned her gaze away from her longtime nuisance and began scanning the crowd. They were all there, every foal and nymph from their class—all grown up and either in the midst of or about to enter into their trades. Each of them wearing smiles and bursting with energy and poorly hidden glee.
All of them save for one.
Sure Stroke blinked twice, tilting her head as she searched high and low for any sign of bright magenta coat or aquamarine and purple mane. Her ears perked up to listen for even the slightest hint of a bubbly giggle.
None came.
Where in love’s name was Toola Roola?
The young mare flicked her tail. Biting her lip, she turned, the question ready on the tip of her tongue.
It was never given voice. Everything happened in an instant, yet time seemed to slow to allow her to behold it all.
Esalen’s eyes flitted this way and that, her brows furrowed as her lips slowly tugged into the smallest of frowns. Her nostrils flared, Sure Stroke could hear her draw in a deep snuffling breath to catch the scent. Then, her tongue flicked out to taste the air and her ears went rigid. Her frown gave way to a knowing smirk.
Sure Stroke could almost read “aha” right off her forehead.
Pink eyes flashed with glee, Esalen spun around so quickly Sure Stroke felt the air shift against her feathers. She reared up, her chitinous hooves spread wide, ready to catch and entrap the magenta missile that hit her full in the chest and made her stagger backward a step. A low purr rumbled in the back of her throat, she pressed her snout against the sheepishly grinning mare’s and nipped at her nose, murmuring, “Good morning, treasure.”
Toola Roola squeaked and ducked her head between her shoulders, her cheeks aflame. “Caught me again,” she replied in a whisper.
“Always do, always will.” Chuckling, Esalen leaned in and planted a deep kiss on Toola’s lips that made her curly tail swish. “You can’t hide your mischief and love from me, gigglebox. You know that better than anyone.”
Sure Stroke shook her head and shared a knowing look with Aspire. With fond smiles and waggling ears, they shared a quick kiss, then turned away to allow the pair some modicum of privacy. A sense of warmth, completion, filled the young mare’s chest.
The gang was all there.
And in short order, so too came the adults. Or, rather, those who were long-since professionals in their trade, some ready to mentor, others merely happy to watch the tradition play out.
From her parents to Warm Welcome and Faith—who met her eye and beamed—to big, burly Mantis and little Ladybug, to the Wood brothers, and even some curious pony guests who came peeking out of other ponies’ houses and wandered over to investigate this strange happening at such an early hour.
Purely by instinct, she made to look for Gale and Regale, but stopped short, her heart sinking. Where were they? Surely they hadn’t forgotten.
One by one, the rest came forth, surrounding the younger ponies and changelings in a loose semicircle. All of them except Abacus, Façade, Clanger, and a few of the other teachers.
Off at school, no doubt, Sure Stroke thought. They’ll be getting everything sorted with the little ones. Clanger will be ringing the bell any minute. She leaned to her left, brushing her shoulder against Aspire’s leg and teasing the tips of her feathers against his side. A quick glance up at him, just in time to catch that lovely twinkle in his eyes as he leaned down to slowly nuzzle a circle around her cheek, spurred a happy sigh.
“Why did you have to get taller than me?” she accused, her tone thick with humor.
Aspire chittered. “So I could do this,” he murmured as he laid his chin atop her head and flicked the forked tips of his tongue against her ear, his mirth redoubled with the squeak it prompted. He leaned in closer, his breath visited a delightful tickling touch upon the outer edge. “And so you can’t wrap me under wing or stop me from lavishing all my affection on you, silly Doodle.”
Her cheeks flushed a rosy pink. Sure Stroke buried her face in his shoulder. “Charmer.”
“Only if you ask. Only how you ask it.”
Before she could voice her retort, all chatter around them ceased. Her ears flicked. Sure Stroke lifted her head from his shoulder to scan the path leading toward Queen Euphoria’s house. Her face lit up at the sight of the tall, slender changeling Queen, her teal and pink mane bound by long circlets of golden hearts, trotting toward the crowd with her husband, Cool Breeze, at her side. Their entourage followed close behind.
Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of her friends who’d already chosen their trades all stepping away to join the others in the semicircle, leaving her class to stand in the middle, awaiting their Queen.
It was time.
Queen Euphoria and Cool Breeze split off, pausing a moment to share a nuzzle with one another before he moved to join the others in the semicircle. She did the same for each of her entourage, smiling fondly as she watched them take their places beside her husband.
Then, she made the last leg of her approach, stopping but a length or two from the gathering of young ponies. A smile as warm as the midsummer sun spread across her gorgeous features. “Good morning, everyone,” she greeted.
A chorus of replies swept through the crowd, drawing a merry chitter and swish of her tail.
“My, we’re quite awake this morning! Though, with a day so special finally upon us, I should think it justified.” The Queen of the Caretakers let her gaze sweep over those gathered in a semicircle, lingering a moment on some of the village guests. “To those of you unfamiliar with our ways, this is a most special day in our village. Today, those who stand before us will make choose the trades they will train and study for so that someday, they might offer their care to visitors, just like you.” She paused a moment, drawing in a deep breath. “And some may choose to pursue their trades outside our village, offering a helping hoof to those around them as the Sainted Ones taught us so many years ago.”
The atmosphere seemed to shift, a heavy weight settled over those in the clearing. Sure Stroke blinked, her brow beginning to arch as she felt Aspire shiver against her side.
She turned to find both he and Esalen squeezing their eyes shut and shaking their heads, their faces creased with matching grimaces.
The long moment passed. The twins released a deep sigh as if they were one being, their eyes slowly blinked open.
Sure Stroke furrowed her brows and managed to catch Aspire’s eye. She perked on ear up and laid the other flat against her scalp, silently prompting an explanation.
He shook his head. “Later,” he mouthed, before nodding toward Queen Euphoria.
A question for another time, apparently.
“Whatever they choose,” Queen Euphoria continued on, “whatever path they take, we gather here today to support these young ones as they take their first step out of foalhood or nymphood and become young ponies and changelings. Today, we who have come before offer our knowledge and skills to train this, the next generation of Caretakers, and remind them that whether their trades keep them here or draw them across the great seas, there is always a place for them in Respite.”
A polite rumble followed her speech, several among the crowd chimed their approval on all counts. All around Sure Stroke, there were smiles—the villagers’ full of eagerness and pride in their younger members, the visitors’ full of a sort of wondrous confusion and curiosity, especially the little foals.
Sure Stroke smiled, the memory of her first days in the village played out in her head. She knew those feelings quite well. Such days were still quite present in her life.
But, to her delight, those days were becoming less frequent as time passed. A blessing, if she did say so.
Queen Euphoria buzzed her wings, then turned to walk down the line. “I’m aware that each of you have already spoken with some of the villagers, some have also volunteered your time to learn from them.” She stopped just before the twins, her gaze lingering upon them a moment, before flitting between Toola Roola and Sure Stroke.
The young mare tried to keep her wings from fluttering once more.
“Today, you will meet with each of them again and confirm your trade with my household and me. Most, as you can see, are here with us.” Queen Euphoria gestured to the villagers gathered around them. “Others are already hard at work, some as guards, some fishing, others teaching. For those who you don’t see here, come speak with me, and I will direct you to where you may find them. If you have any other questions—” with a swish of her flowing, aquamarine tail, she gave her brightest smile to each of them in turn “—please speak now.”
None took the invitation. Each stood quietly, bouncing eagerly on the tips of their hooves. Feathers rustles, ears waggled, chitinous wings buzzed, and eager grins began to spread across their faces.
They’d waited plenty long. Not one of them wanted to wait another second.
A feeling, judging by the knowing look in her eyes, which Queen Euphoria knew quite well. “Then let’s not waste any more time,” she said. “Let Trade Day begin now.”
Aspire could scarcely withhold a merry chitter as Queen Euphoria spoke the words, let alone at the delicious blend of emotions dancing upon his tongue—the spice of excitement, sweet, fluffy joy and delight, the delectable nectar of Sure Stroke’s love for him, like cake and sweet white frosting. All of it would make for a wonderful meal for any changeling.
It was enough to make him give his wings a little buzz before he turned to steal a kiss from his wonderful mare’s lips. A contented hum built in his chest and gave itself voice, reverberating in the back of his throat as her feathers fluffed and her beautiful blue eyes slowly fluttered shut.
Unfortunately, it was hardly the place to lavish her as he wished. The young changeling broke the kiss, though not without quickly pecking her nose and smirking at the shuddering gasp it drew, then nuzzled a slow circle around her snout. “Going to see Euphoria and see what’s going on with those two?” he asked softly. “Or my mom?”
Sure Stroke’s eyes blinked open. A dusty pink blush settled upon her delicate cheeks, she ducked her head, her feathers unfurled as if to try to hide her muzzle.
But her eyes remained fixed upon his. Oh, how they always made his heart pound within his chest like a thundering herd. “I think your mom first,” she replied with a little cough and rustling of her wings. “I have a feeling talking to Regale will take a bit longer.”
“Well, why not just take care of that right now?” His mother’s voice made Aspire’s ears twitch and spurred a tiny squeak forth from the back of Sure Stroke’s throat.
He turned to glance over his shoulder, a small smile played upon his lips. “Sneaking up on your next helper?”
Faith’s chitinous ears waggled. “One would think she was used to us doing that, what with your love for cuddle and kiss ambushes.” Turning her gaze upon Sure Stroke, she stepped closer, wrapping a hoof around the younger mare’s shoulders and pulling her into a warm embrace. “Any other pony would ask if you were as excited as I for today,” she murmured, “but … well, with our gifts—”
“We can taste it,” Aspire and Esalen chimed in stereo.
“Quite.” Shooting the pair a warning look, then one at Toola when a bubbly giggle escaped her lips, Faith returned her attention to Sure Stoke. “I’m ready to make it official if you are, dear.”
The sunny smile that spread across his girlfriend’s gorgeous face could’ve warmed him through the deepest winter, and the pure joy which flowed forth from her nearly made him want to pull her off to the side for a long cuddle.
But he restrained himself. There would be plenty of time for that afterward.
Sure Stroke nodded so quickly her ponytail bobbed. “I’m ready!” she gleefully said, bouncing on lightly on the tips of her hooves.
Chuckling, Faith released her embrace, then guided her toward Queen Euphoria.
Always so excitable, Aspire thought, chuckling to himself as he followed in their wake alongside Esalen and a tittering Toola Roola. Though, really, who could blame her?
The only thing keeping him from doing the same was the chance to tease his bouncy, doodly girlfriend for how she held herself before their Queen. And that just wouldn’t work if he showed any inkling of the same.
Of course, the chance to watch her lovely purple tail lash and those downy feathers fluff like an eager griffon was also a perk.
As they drew near, Queen Euphoria’s ears perked up. A knowing smile settled upon her lips. “Ah, yes,” she hummed, eying each of them in turn. “I thought I might be hearing from you four rather early this morning.”
A sheepish chuckle escaped Aspire’s lips, he rubbed at the back of his already messy mane. “Well … I actually don’t have anything witty for that. It’s kinda expected, isn’t it?”
His comment drew incredulous looks from all around him. It was Caress who voiced the their shared thought, “Aspire without a snarky comment? This is a red-letter day, indeed.” The slender changeling sauntered forward from her place on Cool Breeze’s left, her brow arched. “Surely this is a sign that Nightmare Moon is going to return, no?”
Cool Breeze fixed her with a stern look. “Let’s not go there, dear,” he scolded, his tone one of warning. “No need to risk a jinx that size, don’t you think?”
“Fair, fair. I’m only teasing.”
“In any case,” Neat ’n Orderly cut in, shooting a sidelong glare at the pair before turning a small, professional smile to the younger group. “We’re all happy to see you, and that you’re ready to pick your trades.” Her horn lit, she floated a clipboard with a list of names written in neat, flowing cursive up to bear. “Sure Stroke, you’ll be down as …”
“Helping Faith with her patients,” Sure Stroke supplied. “Art therapy.”
“And I accept, of course,” Faith added.
Neat ’n Orderly’s pencil scribbled a note across the page. “Good, good. Well, we now have that all set up so you two can get organized with how your trade partnership will work.”
“Excellent!” Beaming, Faith patted Sure Stroke on the shoulder. “Now that that’s, I think we can organize together over lunch. Say, this afternoon?”
Aspire’s ears twitched. He’d almost forgotten about Moving Day. Once he declared his trade, he, like Esalen and all their friends, would be adults. It would be time to move out of their parents’ houses and into their own.
Fortunately, there had been some prior discussion. His home would be made with Esalen, Toola, and Sure Stroke. Not a bad mix, in his opinion.
He was tugged out of his brief lapse by Sure Stroke eagerly bobbing her head. “Sounds good to me!” the young mare replied.
Then I’ll expect you then. Now—” with a playful grin, Faith gave her a gentle shove toward Sweet Treat’s shop “—big smile and enjoy your first day as an adult! We’ll talk later today.”
“And step over to my home,” Queen Euphoria added. “I may have … a proposition. And someone who might offer a bit of an explanation for its necessity. Feel free to make tea, if you like. Breezy?”
“Of course. And I’ll fill her in as well. ”
“Thank you, dear.”
“You’re welcome.” Her husband kissed her chin. “Come along, Sure Stroke.”
Aspire chittered as he watched Sure Stroke catch his mother in a tight hug which drew a yelp from the elder changeling before dashing off. Her messenger bag thumped a steady rhythm against her side as trotted alongside Cool Breeze.
Deliciously excitable and so full of joy and love for the world around her. Just a couple of the many things about his silly, doodly girlfriend he loved all the more.
Caress coughed. “Well, with little Doodle out of the way,” she said with a sly smile. “You may as well put these two—” she waved a hole-ridden hoof at Esalen and Toola “—down for me, Neaty. With all the time they’ve spent helping out on weekends, I’m quite happy to make it official right here, right now.”
“If they choose it,” Neat replied smoothly.
Neither of them missed a beat. “We do!” Esalen and Toola chimed together, the latter happily pressing up against her.
Caress’s smile nearly touched her cream-colored mane, her eyes glittered like diamonds, full of a playful, smug light. “They do.”
With a long-suffering sigh and roll of her eyes, Neat muttered, “No one appreciates the formalities these days.” All the same, her pencil darted across the page, filling out their trades as quick as a flash. Once finished, she aimed a smile at Esalen and Toola and said, “You two are all set.”
“Wonderful. Thank you, dear.” Caress pecked Neat ’n Orderly’s lips, then motioned for the girls to follow. “Come along, you two. Let’s see about getting things set for you to do some work on actual ponies. In fact, Dewy, you’re not doing anything but bouncing and looking beautiful. How about a massage and some yoga?”
The clumsy mare’s wings rustled eagerly. “Oooh! Free therapy?”
“For today, yes. I’ll pay bits in exchange.”
“I’m in!” With a flap of her wings, Morning Dew took to the air, quickly dotting Cool Breeze, Neat ’n Orderly, and Queen Euphoria with a kiss each before she hurried to Caress’s side.
Aspire managed to catch Esalen’s eye just before they headed out. She nodded and gave him a little wave before turning to follow her new mentor, shoulder to shoulder with her loving girlfriend.
Leaving him to declare his trade.
As if there was any doubt. He’d been ready for this day for years.
Queen Euphoria offered a smile. Her tongue flicked out to taste. “Such excitement, Aspire. And for good reason. You’ve waited a long time for this day.”
Bowing his head to hide a sheepish grin, Aspire chuckled. “Yeah. Sort of a long time coming.”
“You’ve been very patient, yet diligent in practice,” the Queen praised. “But now, we can make it official. Neaty?”
Neat ’n Orderly nodded once and met Aspire’s gaze. “Teaching?” she asked, her pencil already jotting it down.
“Teaching,” he confirmed.
Her pencil danced across the clipboard. “Done. Thank you, Aspire.”
“Abacus is expecting me at the schoolhouse, I take it?”
“That he is.” Queen Euphoria’s smile grew into a vulpine grin. “He specifically asked us to inform you that he expects you to be on time for Clanger to ring the bell.”
He heard it, even across the village and over Cool Breeze’s snickering. Through the cool, early morning air, ringing out as clear as the sun peeking above the treetops, was the familiar sound of the brass school bell.
His ears slowly drooped. A low, keening chitter escaped Aspire’s lips. “Oh, come on!” he whined.
“Abacus always said he’d find some way to pay you back for all your mischief,” Queen Euphoria drawled, her eyes glittering with naked glee. “You’d better get moving, young changeling.”
Scarcely had the words left her mouth before he turned and dashed off, cursing under his breath as his hooves pounded against the dirt path.
Why am I always the one running for the schoolhouse?
Two years ago, Respite’s schoolhouse seemed so much bigger to Aspire. Oh, the path his hooves thundered down, every creaking floorboard upon which he tread as he hurried toward his destination, through the narrow hallway, then right passed the classroom full of wide-eyed foals and nymphs just out of their hatchling years, was familiar enough. But somewhere along the line, over the course of the last two years, the village seemed to shrink around him.
Of course, it wasn’t too long ago that his parents towered above both he and Esalen. Now they stood at eye level with their father, and nearly half a head taller than their mother. Not to mention Sure Stroke.
Aspire skidded around the corner, his momentum forcing him to hop on his right hooves as his weight nearly sent him into the far wall. Hissing a curse, he bounded forward, his eyes locked on the green-painted door up ahead which bore his old teacher’s name.
There it was!
With one last burst of speed, he sprinted down the hallway and threw the door open, diving into the classroom just as he had so many times before.
“Made it!” he gasped between breaths. “That was … a dirty trick, but I made it!”
Aspire expected they’d be in the midst of Abacus’s starting lecture. He expected that he’d come thundering in with all the subtlety and grace of a rampaging bugbear, drawing surprised stares and a stern glare from his new mentor. By love, an apology was already on the tips of his forked tongue.
Oh, there were stares all right. Expectant stares of untold mirth, wide, mischievous grins, swishing tails, fluffing feathers, and buzzing wings greeted his arrival. Along with a smattering of foalish tittering and nymphs’ chitters.
“‘A dirty trick’, he says,” a familiar voice teased. “All I had to do was ask Queen Euphoria nicely to draw out her speech a little. Didn’t even cost me a sip of love.” From his place reclined in his seat, Abacus glanced at the clock resting on his desk and sighed. “Darn. Ten more seconds, and you’d all have lost. Oh well, no homework tonight.” He shrugged, a slow, wicked smirk spread across his muzzle. “Class, what do we have to say to Mister Aspire?”
In practiced unison, every foal and nymph threw their hooves out wide and waved them in time as they sang, “You’re late! You’re late! You’re oh so very late!”
Aspire fixed them all with a stern glare, grumbling under his breath as they fell into peals of mirth and exchanged hoof bumps with one another. He made sure to make note of the ones who took a bit too much amusement in his folly—they would get special treatment in his next trick.
Oh, yes.
Slowly, the fuming changeling turned his gaze upon Abacus,his brow arching. “I guess you’ve finally gotten me back for all those tricks Essy and I used to pull, eh?”
“Oh, Aspire.” Abacus chuckled darkly. “I haven’t begun to repay you.” The stallion rose from his seat, gaily waggling his ears, and walked over to wrap him in a warm embrace. After a moment, he drew back to hold Aspire at leg’s length. “All that aside, I’m glad you chose teaching as your trade, and honored that you chose me as your mentor. Even if it was just a formality.”
Ducking his head to hide his flushing cheeks, Aspire gave a crooked smile. “You helped me a lot over the years. It was a no-brainer.”
Abacus patted his shoulder. “All the same, I mean it. And I’m proud to see the little nymph I taught become the young changeling standing before me today.”
Aspire felt his chest fill with pride. “Thank you,” he replied softly.
“My pleasure.’ Turning to face the class, Abacus smiled and gestured to Aspire. “Well, class, you all know my new assistant teacher, Mister Aspire, from his time tutoring and all the tricks he loves to pull.” He paused to allow them another moment to laugh, then continued, “Since it’s his first official day teaching, I think we’ll let him start things off for us. Take it away, Aspire.”
He couldn’t help it. His ears went ramrod straight, a wide, toothy grin nearly split his face. Aspire buzzed his wings as he hurried to stand behind the podium and let his gaze sweep out over the class.
Finally.
A thought came to him. He fixed them all with a half-lidded look and let a slow smile spread across his features, the sort he knew would send warning shivers down their spines, and ran his tongue along his lips.
Oh, how the chance to pull a good trick could make apprehension and fear taste so sweet despite that rotting flavor.
“So,” he began casually, “which of our little students came up with the terms for that bet?”
Silence greeted him. Each foal and nymph folded their little hooves neatly on their desks, their faces the very picture of utmost innocence.
Smart, he praised. But not out of the woods just yet. If one wouldn’t come forward, they’d all get a taste.
Aspire lit his horn and snaked a tendril of shimmering green magic around one of the books resting on Abacus’s shelves, and floated it over to rest on the podium.
“Why don’t we start off with my favorite subject—algebra.”
The chorus of whines and groans was music to his ears. Sweet music.
It wasn’t the feeling of the slime pod seat she was sitting on which made Sure Stroke shift and rustle her wings.
Rather, it was the way Cool Breeze carried himself as soon as they were out of sight. Gone were his playful smile and waggling ears, his wings seemed to sag a little, his posture and the little frown which tugged at his lips spoke more of a pensive stallion struggling with how to feel than the mischievous foal in a stallion’s body she’d come to know over the course of the last two and a half years.
He didn’t speak much. Save for a murmured invitation to take a seat at the little kitchen table at which he dined with the Queen and her entourage while he trotted over to set a kettle on the stove and rummage about in the cabinets for the pot and a pair of teacups. He came over for a moment to set the cups on the table, setting his directly across from her, then headed over to collect the tin of tea leaves from the counter.
Cool Breeze sighed as he set about scooping a couple pinches of leaves—that forest brew of mixed herbs, a hint of citrus, and cornflowers plucked from the meadow a short walk down the east path.
Sure Stroke’s ears twitched. Cool Breeze sighing so heavily wasn’t a good sign. The Queen’s husband was known for his pranks, his carefree attitude, and his love for teaching all the little pegasi of Respite how to fly.
He never carried himself like this. With such a morose air about him.
Definitely not right. She licked her lips, her tail flicking anxiously. “Is something the matter with Regale, Breezy?”
The stallion took a sharp breath. “Well,” he said slowly, “in a matter of speaking, yes. I’m trying to decide how best to broach the subject.”
A cold lump fell into the pit of her stomach. “She’s not sick, is she? I just saw her up and about the other day.” Her wings rustled again. For a moment, she thought to rise. “She’s not coming down with something like feather flu at her age, is she?”
“She’s not sick,” Cool Breeze replied softly. “Neither is Gale. They’re … well, physically fine.”
That cold lump sank deeper. “Then what’s wrong?”
He turned to look her in the eye, his own shone with pain. The stallion rustled his feathers and made to speak, then bit his lip and took a deep breath. “There’s no easy way to say this,” he said with yet another heavy sigh. His head hung low. “They’re gone, honey. They left the village last night.”
Save for the boiling, hissing water, there was a heavy silence which hung over them like a wild thunderhead, ready to dump its payload and send angry bolts down upon those below.
Sure Stroke felt her breath catch in the back of her throat, her chest felt numb. Her eyes flitted to the saddlebags resting at her side, the pages of notes and scribblings within made her insides twist. She made to speak, but couldn’t find the words.
Cool Breeze closed his eyes. “From what little Gale could tell me, they received a message by changeling fire. Regale’s cousin, another who left the hive and was estranged from her for decades, fell ill. It … doesn’t seem good.” A shrill whistling made his ear flick, the kettle cried out to alert them that the water within was ready. But he didn’t move toward it. “Regale panicked. I don’t know what she was thinking or if she could even think of anything else, but she started throwing things into her bags to leave. Gale came over just to let us know and ask that we relay their apologies, and then—” the stallion shook his head, finally turning to go lift the kettle off the stove and pour the water into the pot. He sighed for a third time and let his ears lay flat. “I’m sorry, honey, but I don’t know if they’re coming back.”
The cold lump froze everything within her. Sure Stroke’s breath came shakily, she covered her mouth, fighting back tears as she felt the familiar sting at the corner of her eyes.
So much time spent preparing for this trade, for the chance to work together on her book. All that time listening to advice on how to get it all set up and organized, even before her trade was declared.
All of it gone. Up in smoke.
A single question reverberated in her head. The only one she could find the strength to ask. “Why couldn’t they just tell me?” she whispered, her voice choked. “I—I would’ve—I could’ve—”
Words simply failed her.
Cool Breeze took the pot in hoof and trotted over to the table. “I won’t pretend what they did was right by you, leaving without taking the time to say goodbye,” he said as he filled their cups. “Or others in the village, for that matter. But, I’ve been in that position before, and I can’t say I handled it any better. In fact, I did just about the same.”
She looked up to meet his eyes, blinking away tears.
At her silent question, he set the pot down and sat in his pod seat. “I was raised by a pair of earth pony mares,” he began, “my mothers. My father died when I was too young to remember, and my birth mother fell in love with a mare after. They raised me together, we came here because I needed to learn to fly but we didn’t have enough money for me to go to flight school in Cloudsdale.” A ghost of a smile flitted across his face. “Cloudfluff taught me. Anyway, we lived here for years. And when I got older, I fell in love with the village, with Phory, and decided I wanted to stay. My mothers missed their friends in Ponyville and decided to move back.”
As he spoke, Cool Breeze moved to spoon a bit of sugar into both of their cups. The right amount, she noticed. Not the obscene load Queen Euphoria or the rest of the changelings were prone to putting into their tea.
“Thank you,” she muttered, taking up her own spoon to mix it in.
“Of course.” He began to stir his own, his eyes looked off into the distance. “I … I lost my second mother unexpectedly, the same year the twins were born. She passed in her sleep one night. As you might expect, I was utterly grief-stricken, destroyed. I went from thinking nothing of having my mothers around to suddenly having to face the reality that the one remaining was old. I thought I was ready for when she passed.” With a mirthless chuckle, he took a sip of his tea. “No one’s ready for when family passes. I got a letter from a young nurse, telling me that my mother was sick and that I needed to be there because it might be my last chance to see her.”
Sure Stroke saw Cool Breeze’s wings unfurl just slightly, as if to wrap around himself.
He licked his lips. “And suddenly, I was a little foal. I scrambled to throw everything into my bags and ran off to the station after just kinda shouting something to Phory. She had to go run and grab someone—I think it was Merryweather—to take my classes and wake up Neat so she could keep an eye on the village. Then she came after me so I wouldn’t be alone.” Breathing a heavy sigh, he shuddered. “I fell apart when my mothers died, so … I’m not saying it’s right, but I can understand. And I know that doesn’t make it better for you, honey, but that’s the best way I can explain it. Some, myself included, don’t handle grief well.”
“I guess,” she said softly, sighing as she looked down at her untouched cup and stared into its depths. Shaking her head, she muttered, “Is it wrong of me to wonder what I’m supposed to do about this book now? When they’re worrying about family?”
A soft laugh made her ears flick. Cool Breeze laid a hoof upon her shoulder and gave it a little squeeze. “Honey, my little freak out was the first time Phory and I left Neat in charge of the village by herself, and she found that out maybe three hours before she and Clanger went to bed. Poor mare didn’t sleep all night.” She looked up to meet his gaze and found his smile returned. “It might not come as a result of a trade with her, but we’re not going to just forget what you want to do to help the ponies who visit Respite because this fell through. We’ll help in any way we can.”
Sure Stroke stayed silent for a moment. Her feathers flicking, she chewed on the inside of her lip, thinking hard.
No Gale, no Regale, but a chance to figure out a way to write her book another way.
Could she?
Her thoughts wandered to Altocumulus. Namely, all the times his experiments literally blew up in his face—and often Maple’s. Slowly, a fond smile began to tug at her lips.
Altocumulus didn’t give up because things went awry.
She nodded once. “So how do I move forward with this, then?” she asked. “I’ve never written a book before.”
Cool Breeze took another sip. “We stayed up late discussing that, actually,” he mused. “All of us. We have a few ideas on what you could do, if you wanted.” A knowing grin began to spread across his face. “And I may know a mare with connections in Canterlot and Manehattan publishing houses.”
Her ears perked up. “I’m definitely open to suggestions. And talking to whoever this mare is.”
“I’ll send her a letter. It may take a little time for her to reply or come visit because she does have another job, but I trust her. As for the rest, I think we can talk about that when things settle down after moving day.” The stallion waggled his ears. “For now, finish that, or I’ll have to tell Phory you’re so sad you’re wasting her favorite tea.”
She couldn’t help but throw back her head and laugh. “Oh, don’t you dare!” she cried, bringing a hoof to cover her eyes. “She’ll start doting on me like I’m still a filly! That’s playing dirty!”
His eyes glinted so much like the changelings he loved. “I grew up with and fell in love with changelings, honey. Playing dirty is what I do.”
After their trades were confirmed, the young couple found themselves free for about an hour or so. They opted to take a walk along the long dirt pathway home so they could put their bags away, their pace slowed to a leisurely stroll so they might enjoy some alone time together.
No teasing, no flirting, not even a hint of banter. Just the two of them walking together, her head laying upon his strong shoulder, savoring his warm, smooth chitin, and her left wing draped across his back.
Though, as they reached the halfway point between their houses and the village, Aspire did lean over to nip at her ear and murmur, “I don’t recall losing any pegasus courtship challenges,” He nuzzled just below the base, then planted a kiss. “It seems someone is getting a little ahead of herself laying claim here.”
Sure Stroke turned away to hide her flushing cheeks. He knew what it meant for a pegasus to drape a wing across a lover’s back. Of course he did. He’d done his digging into her culture almost as soon as they’d gotten together two years prior.
Pegasus challenges were, naturally, of great interest to him. It was almost similar to the changelings’ penchant for answering them, in a way. Just more focused on the relationship dynamics.
Why shouldn’t he take such keen interest in that?
She delivered a gentle shoulder bump in reply. “M-Maybe I just wanted to hold you close!” she retorted. “Not everything has to be about challenges, smugling!”
Chittering, he kissed her cheek. “True. I suppose you’re right. But, I must admit—” his voice dropped an octave “—I could get quite used to this, I think.”
If her smile wavered for even a second while they dropped off their bags and made the long trek back to help with preparations, Sure Stroke would’ve been utterly shocked. She certainly had trouble voicing herself in anything but a sputtering, squeaky tone for several minutes, much to her mischievous boyfriend’s delight.
Such were the trials and tribulations of a pony in love with a changeling.
The young mare did manage to bring her giddiness under control before they entered the bustling town center, enough so that she could at least force that silly ear-to-ear grin into a more sedate smile while she and Aspire walked over to Warm Welcome’s side.
Not enough, though, that the taste of her joy didn’t earn a few licking lips and eager looks from some of the changelings they passed. Even the little nymphs running about under hoof with the foals stopped, their tongues flicking, and waggled their ears at her in silent askance for a drink.
Aspire fixed them each with an amused look and shook his head. “No feeding on Doodle or guilting her into a sip,” he chided gently, rolling his eyes at their whining. “None of that! She needs her strength to help set things up for the party. Run along and play.”
A flicker of tiny forked tongues were stuck out in reply, then the nymphs hurried away before he could take offense.
Giggling, Sure Stroke pressed up against his side. “My hero, saving me from the horde of hungry little nymphs and their wiles,” she teased.
He waggled his brows. “Always, Doodle. Always.”
As they came to Warm Welcome’s side, Sure Stroke saw Esalen and Toola Roola coming from the other direction, both wearing bright smiles and seemingly prancing their way to join the group.
“Hello, everyone,” Warm greeted. He flicked his tongue, his brows raised and a toothy grin lit up his face. “Well, I taste four happy young ones. Trade Day went well, then?”
“Absolutely perfect!” Toola sang, leaning up against Esalen’s side. “Essy and I are going to be studying directly under Caress for a while so she can watch us work, she was really pleased with how well we did taking care of Morning Dew!”
Esalen bobbed her head. “Missus Dew was practically a puddle by the end of the massage. And then Toola’s yoga had her feeling about ten years younger, so we probably just got our first regular.” Her eyes brimming with pride, she added, “If we do well enough, Caress said she has some connections in the Manehattan University School of therapy she can talk to about getting us admitted to get licenses throughout Equestria! We could practice anywhere if we wanted!”
“That’s great, girls!” Aspire grinned. “So, just turn everyone into happy puddles, then have Toola mould them back together, eh?”
“That’s the basic plan, yes.”
“Sounds like a solid one.”
“How was class?” Toola asked, a teasing tone creeping into her voice. “Give out any detentions yet, Mister Aspire?”
He shook his head. “No, Miss Roola, so you’ll be alone in detention today.”
She huffed. “Aw, crabapples! Essy!” she whined, fluttering her eyes at Esalen. “Tell your brother to stop being mean and let me have fun!”
“Not my classroom,” Esalen drawled, a smirk playing upon her lips. “I couldn’t slight my brother like that, giggle box. And you know it.”
Pulling a face, Toola was only able to hold her sour look for a half second before she broke into one of her giggle fits and turned her bright eyes upon Sure Stroke. “How about you, Doodly-Doodle?”
Sure Stroke smiled. “It … well, not all good, I’m afraid.” Her ears drooped. “Unfortunately … it seems I won’t be working together with Gale and Regale. They, ah, seem to have up and left.”
The group gaped. “What?” Warm blurted. He glanced about, as if thinking he might find them wandering the village to prove her wrong. “But—what—why—without even a—I just saw them days ago!”
She could feel Aspire’s gaze upon her. Concerned, but holding something else. There was the tiniest flash of indignation and hurt. Sure Stroke sighed and offered a small, sad smile. “Breezy and I talked. They didn’t just leave for no reasons. There was—” How to word it best? Honestly, and without too much sugarcoating or heat. “—There was a family emergency and Regale didn’t handle the news well. So. She panicked and scrambled to leave, Gale barely had time to tell Breezy and Queen Euphoria before they were gone.”
Her friends and Warm stood silently a moment, their mouths working wordlessly, as if they hoped to offer some small comfort. But each failed. Their eyes told her enough.
They were just as hurt.
Aspire found his voice first. “Are you okay?” he asked softly.
The young mare bobbed her head. “Disappointed, sad, but okay. And Breezy and Queen Euphoria had an idea on how to make things work out, which … well, I think it could turn out even better, all due respects.” She shrugged, swishing her tail eagerly. “One door closes, another opens, I suppose. All in all, I’d say today was brilliant, all things considered!”
A half chuckle made her ears twitch and drew her attention to Warm again. “I’m glad you’re all happy with how things went today. You’ve all made us proud,” he said, offering a supportive smile. Coughing into a hoof, he took up the the clipboard he’d kept tucked under his leg. “Let’s see … Essy, Toola, why don’t you go give Sweet Treat and Vigil a hoof getting things set on the food tables? And try to keep the twins from starting a food fight with their mates.”
Groaning, Esalen shuddered. “Easier said than done,” she grumbled. “Thanks a lot, dad.”
He grinned. “Better you than me, sweetheart. Have fun.” Shooing them away with a wave of his clipboard, he turned to Aspire and Sure Stroke, glancing down at his list again. “Hmmm, well, you could see if the weather team needs help doing a patrol for stray thunderheads, Sure Stroke. Your dad would definitely appreciate the help.”
“That, I can definitely do,” Sure Stroke replied with a meaningful rustle of her wings.
“Excellent. Son, why don’t you come with me then? I’ve got to check up on how things are coming together and you know how all this goes. Oh, and let’s keep the dancing circle nice and clear so we don’t have anyone tripping like last year.”
Both Aspire and Sure Stroke winced. “Yeah,” he replied, sheepishly running a hoof through his messy blue mane. “Let’s not repeat that. Especially with visiting ponies and their foals here.”
“My thoughts exactly. So, let’s do our best to make sure this goes off without a hitch—ack! Breezy! Don’t you start!” Warm threw his clipboard aside and dashed off, cursing as he chased the laughing stallion, out of his funk and up to his old tricks, away from the food he’d been trying to swipe. No doubt for one of his pranks.
Chuckling, Aspire shook his head. “I’d better go start looking things over while dad hunts Breezy.” He said softly, pressing his cheek against hers. His frown returned. “You sure you’re okay, Sure Stroke?”
Sure Stroke drew back to look him in the eye. He never used her real name unless he was angry or serious about something. With a sad smile, she leaned forward to plant a soft kiss on his lips. “I’m a little hurt,” she admitted when she drew back. “But I’m fine. I have my most important changeling right here, and my best friends all around me.”
“Okay. Just wanted to be sure.” He nuzzled her nose, murmuring, “See you in the circle?”
“Of course.” Sure Stroke turned, pecking his lips again. “My favorite faerie dancer has to show me how ungraceful my hooves are.”
“Hey,” he teased, his eyes dazzling. “You’re a dang fine dancer yourself.” He leaned in and pressed his lips against hers, a low hum rolled deep within his throat. “Nothing clumsy or ungraceful about my Doodle.”
The burn returned to her cheeks. “Away with you, smug boyfriend!” she cried, playfully shoving him in the direction Warm had chased after Breezy. “Go do your job! And see if you can keep your dad from throttling Breezy.”
Aspire snorted. “Doodle, please. I’m not getting anywhere near in the middle of that mess.” He blew a raspberry, then turned to trot off to oversee proceedings.
Always has to have the last word. Or raspberry. Rolling her eyes, she unfurled her wings and gave them another rustle before taking to the sky.
The night promised to be quite a delightful evening.
The festivities began in earnest almost as soon as the sun sank beneath the horizon. While quite a bit earlier than traditional Summer Sun Celebrations across Equestria, Sure Stroke found every changeling, pony, foal, and nymph brimming with energy and eager to start. Even she, disappointed though she was that one of her partnerships had fallen through, wasn’t immune. An early morning wouldn’t stop them from taking part.
Though it didn’t come without a flurry of questions from a few newcomers.
They were drawn to the Respite ponies like moths to an open flame. A family of pegasi, straight from Bridleton, flocked to Sure Stroke’s side before she could find Aspire in the crowd.
“Why is everything starting so early? It’s not supposed to start until midnight!” one of the mares asked, glancing down at the wide eyed fillies all but attached to her legs like lampreys. Her gaze was stern, as if she might scold them for being so clingy, but then softened after a second. Pain flashing in her eyes, she leaned down to whisper soothing words in their wears and nuzzle their manes.
The fillies tightened their grips and cast frightened looks at the changelings and nymphs drifting a short distance away—all fixing them with concerned stars and wrinkled snouts at their taste—before burying their little faces in her coat.
Her wife gave a crooked smile. “Go easy on them, Sleet. They’re just as nervous as we are.” Turning to Sure Stroke, she rustled her wings. “I do apologize for how … skittish we’ve all been. But when we came to talk with somepony about things—”
“We all understand,” Sure Stroke cut across her with a smile. “The Caretakers—the changelings, I mean—empathize with what you’re going through, and a lot of us ponies went through it ourselves.” She brought a hoof to her chest. “I hid behind my mother’s legs when we first came to Respite, too. And I would flinch and stare at all the changelings’ fangs.”
Little Sunshower’s pale yellow ears perked up. “Really?” she squeaked.
“If you meet my boyfriend, he’ll be happy to tell you all about it. He was one of the ones I hid from.”Twice over, in fact. Shaking her head fondly, she brushed those memories aside. “But you were asking about the party, Missus Sleet. Well … it’s a bit complicated.”
The snowy white mare’s brows raised. “Is there a way to uncomplicate it?” she ground out. The look in her eyes betrayed just what she thought of that statement.
All the more reason to get moving on that book, actually.
“Sleet,” her wife warned.
“It’s a legitimate question, Snow Flurry!”
Sure Stroke flicked her tail anxiously. Arguing couples weren’t her thing. Still, she knew she should try to answer as best she could so they weren’t left out of the loop. She’d been in their place plenty of times. “The Caretakers—well, changelings in general, really—are a bit odd, as you’ve probably noticed.” At the flat looks she received, she chuckled. “They … well, there are a lot of question as to where they came from. But, games, tricks, and parties, and the like most often happen around dawn and dusk—not that they don’t happen during the day or night, but that’s when it gets more frequent. It’s all something to do with their belief that they came from the Faerie Glen deep within the heart of the Eternal Forest.”
This time, it was Hail Storm who spoke up, her icy blue eyes wide with wonder. “All the way from the Emerald Isle?”
“Exactly.”
“I … see.” Snow Flurry blinked. “How exactly did you learn all this?”
“And what does it have to do with the Summer Sun Celebration starting up so soon?” Sleet pressed.
Two years of being in your horseshoes, she thought wryly. “I’ve had time to learn,” she replied smoothly. “Dating one of the village’s brightest and regularly asking Queen Euphoria about the hive’s history did help a lot.”
Almost on cue, a strong, warm, smooth hoof wrapped around her shoulders and tugged her into a tight embrace. Her cheek was pressed against the smooth surface of Aspire’s shoulder plate.
Little Sunshower and Hail Storm let out frightened squeaks and dashed behind Sleet to hide once more, only daring to poke their little heads out as if to make sure he was’t about to hurt her.
Out of the corner of her eye, Sure Stroke saw his dazzling blue eyes fixed upon her. Aspire gave her an affectionate squeeze. “Heya, Doodle,” he greeted before turning to the family. “Ah, and guests! Telling them about our version of the Summer Sun Celebration?” He waggled his ears at them, smiling gaily. “Hope you all like dancing, because we do a lot of that!”
“I was, uh …” Her eyes flitted between he and the fillies, who were gaping at Aspire like they expected him to lunge at her face at any instant. “Just telling them about it, actually.”
“Oh, good, good.” He pressed a kiss into her cheek, then turned his gaze back to the family of newcomers. Sure Stroke saw the tips of his forked tongue poke between his lips, his smile faltered a fraction, but he fixed it into place before they could notice. Aspire’s eyes lingered on the fillies.
Sure Stroke could almost see him drawing the comparison—it had been her standing before him in their spot just two years prior.
Aspire released her from his embrace so he could approach. Lowering his head to their level, he aimed his kindest smile at the frightened little fillies.
Though it was far too late to hide his fangs, what with their wide eyes locked directly upon his, it wasn’t too late to be friendly.
“You know,” he stage whispered, a conspiritorial look flitting across his features. He glanced left and right as if he were about to reveal some grave secret. “While I was checking on things, I saw my sister and her girlfriend—” Aspire pointed across the path to where Esalen and Toola Roola were chatting with Sweet Treat “—setting up Missus Sweet Treat’s Super Ultra Chocolatey cake. And I happen to know for certain that Sweets loves giving new foals the first taste of her baking … if they hurry and get to it before the nymphs crowd around her.”
Their eyes lit up and sparkled like stars. The fillies turned to fix their mothers with their best, most pleading looks, complete with quivering lips.
It almost made Sure Stroke croon.
Snow Flurry hid a grin. “You may,” she said. “But only if you walk over with Mister Aspire so he can introduce you to Sweet Treat, and ask politely for a slice each.”
“And,” Aspire added, a familiar tone creeping into his voice. He was about to make a deal. “You both have to introduce yourselves to me before I introduce you to her.”
Their little ears perked right up. Sure Stroke had to hide a smile. Oh, you sly changeling.
If Sure Stroke hadn’t known better, she’d have thought the pair were seasoned Wonderbolts rather than excited fillies wanting sweets with how quickly they zipped over to Aspire’s side and looped their tiny hooves around his legs. Any sign of fear was long gone. Instead, they tugged at his forelegs, trying to drag him toward Sweet Treat and the food table, babbling their names, their hobbies, anything that could come to mind to satisfy the amused changeling while he allowed them to take control.
Two years had certainly taught him quite a bit on how to draw newcomers into the hive. Sure Stroke caught the backward glance and triumphant wink he shot over his shoulder.
Yes, yes, well done. Another roll of her eyes, Sure Stroke turned her smile back upon the waiting mothers. “Why don’t we head over with them?” she offered. “We can talk a little more about how tonight is going to work.”
Before Sleet could grouse, Snow Flurry placed a hoof upon her shoulder and returned Sure Stroke’s smile. “I think both of us would appreciate that very much, dear. Lead the way.”
As they turned to follow Aspire and the fillies, Sure Stroke noticed Queen Euphoria and Cool Breeze, at last corralled away from the food tables, trotting toward the center of the dancing circle, where a neat stack of wood awaited them. Perfect for the bonfire.
Husband and wife each bore a flaming torch. They stopped just before the pile, all eyes fell upon them and conversation died to a dull murmur. The Queen and her stallion shared a smile and a quick kiss, then dropped their torches onto the stack and stepped back as the fire leapt to life.
An uncertain hum drew a flick of Sure Stroke’s ear. She turned to find Sleet blinking at the flames. “Is the fire supposed to be some sort of tribute to Princess Celestia or is this for the, ah, Emerald Isle heritage?”
Sure Stroke bobbed her head from one side to the other. “A bit of both really. This … well, it’s best if you experience it yourselves.” She fluttered her feathers. “Why don’t you stay with us, actually? That way, you’re not lost for anything.”
The mares shared a silent look. Snow Flurry shrugged, then laid her wing across Sleet’s shoulders to allow the smaller mare to press against her side.
“I would,” Sleet said softly. “Thank you. And thank you for helping even though I’ve been a bit testy.”
Laughing, Sure Stroke waved her off. “Please. If there’s anyone in this village who understands, it’s me and my parents. You’ve got nothing to apologize for.”
The little smile her comment earned was fleeting, but just as bright as the fillies’. Sure Stroke could happily say she knew where they got theirs from.
The great bonfire danced and flickered, bathing the town center in a warm orange glow. Shadows of ponies, changelings, nymphs, and foals walked along the wooden houses and dirt path, springing and kicking their hooves about in unison with their owners.
Sure Stroke laughed and sang out along with her fellow villagers in a language few even knew to exist—the Old Tongue of the Eternal Forest—while she watched Esalen and Toola dance in the circle, following behind Nimble Hooves and Peppermint as they joined the precession, led by Queen Euphoria, Cool Breeze, and their entourage. Even Prim ’n Proper, that prissy little mare, cast aside that cool, snooty look of hers and beamed while she sang and laughed with all the rest.
Hooves stomped out a steady rhythm. Full pony legs and those holed legs of changelings kept the time with perfection and grace unmatched. Her heart raced, her breaths came in needy panting gasps as she tried to fill her lungs after a lengthy dance of her own.
She watched as Vector, smiling beneath his messy mane, offered his hoof to a blushing young mare from outside and coaxed her to join, his lips moving in what was no doubt a whispered promise to guide her along while Zephyr stepped up to offer the same to her friend.
“This is … quite different,” Sleet called, though standing just a step away from Aspire and Sure Stroke, her voice was only just audible over the noise.
The mare’s eyes, meanwhile, tracked her young fillies with hawklike focus. Sunshower and Hail Storm, curious as most foals were, dared to drift close to the faerie dancers, their eyes wide in wonder and ears erect. They’d all but held up painted signs, begging for one or two eager nymphs to flick their tongues, taste the budding interest, and invite them to join with winning smiles and waggling ears.
And so it had come to pass. The little fillies were approached by two young nymphs, both colts, named Cordial Tidings and Flit. The nymphs wore kind smiles and bowed their heads just slightly, offering a hoof to guide them into the circle. After a quick check with their mothers for permission, the fillies accepted it, albeit with Sunshower biting her lip and Hail Storm trying to hide a hint of pink in her cheeks as they took the nymphs’ hooves and followed them over.
They hadn’t stopped dancing since. And the bright smiles and merry laughter both let out filled Sure Stroke’s heart with utmost joy. It was like looking at herself—nervous at first, needing a friend to hold out a hoof and lead her into the fold.
“You’ll find a lot of things different about Respite if you stay here long enough,” she replied at last. “Singing and dances like this are typically reserved for the bigger holidays.”
“It’s our little way of celebrating them a little more,” Aspire added. “I’m sure you’re familiar with the magic of pony songs?” As both mares bobbed their heads, he smiled. “We tend to believe it the same, but … well, more like this. Less spontaneous, more on our most special days.”
That earned a flick of Snow Flurry’s ear. She hummed—or at least it looked like she had, Sure Stroke couldn’t quite hear it—idly swishing her tail. “It does look like a rather lovely dance. If a bit—” she rolled a hoof as if to snatch the word out of thin air “—I don’t want to say disorganized, but it’s …”
Sure Stroke nodded in understanding. “It’s a bit disorganized, yes,” she admitted, pointing out how Queen Euphoria seemed content to join Cool Breeze and their lovers in a little step-step-skip number which drifted lazily from side to side while others like Faith and Warm Welcome seemed more keen to add a little turn or spin to engage her and Toola’s parents.
“It’s all about keeping time, just like any dance,” Aspire chimed in. “However you keep time is up to you.” Before they could question further, he gave Sure Stroke a little nudge toward the circle. He wanted another dance. A wish she was happy to grant.
But not just with her. He stepped over to the mares and offered a warm smile to both. “Why don’t you join us? You don’t have to sing like us villagers. And I promise, no one’s going to laugh if you take a bit to find your time.”
Sure Stroke watched their faces. Snow Flurry gave a small smile, intrigued by the looks of it, and turned to check with Sleet. Her wife bit her bottom lip, feathers rustling nervously.
Still unsure.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a flash of pink. Aspire tasted it. His smile turned mischievous, he was ready to move in for the proverbial kill. “If you’re afraid you can’t keep time with us, that’s fine too,” he said casually. “There’s plenty of food and places to sit and watch, after all.”
Icy blue eyes hardened. “Are you implying I can’t dance?” Sleet asked.
His ears waggled. “I prefer to think of it as a challenge—I haven’t seen you dance, of course, but it’s up to you if you want to prove me wrong.” With his piece said, he took Sure Stroke’s hoof, gave it a little squeeze, and tugged her back toward the circle. His short, messy tail swishing as he kissed her nose and leaned up to whisper, “Care to come dance with me, little pony?”
Wrinkling her snout, Sure Stroke returned the kiss and replied, “Can I really trust you, oh sly, mischievous changeling?”
“You can trust me to laugh and play and show you a good time.” He stopped just outside the circle to beam at her. “And love you with all my smug heart, of course.”
The heat returning to her cheeks, Sure Stroke ducked her head to hide a smile. Her feathers fluffed gaily as she joined him in tapping out the rhythm . Once ready, they slipped seamlessly into the circle and danced to their hearts’ content, their voices joining the chorus as they sang out in the Old Tongue to offer praise and gratitude to the Princess of Day.
The festivities lasted all the way through the night. Dancers switched in and out, keeping the songs and circle going while their fellows rested and fed themselves.
Sure Stroke smiled as she watched Sleet and Snow Flurry all but throw themselves into the fun a couple hours in. For the first time since meeting her, she saw a genuine smile make its way across Sleet’s snowy white face as her wife, still dancing, dotted the end of her nose with a kiss. The move spurred a giddy fluffing of feathers and laugh, then a little shuffling jig which earned the approval of several villagers, changeling and pony alike.
While not as graceful as the changelings, the outsiders could hold their own in the faerie dancing circle just fine.
At long last, the hour came. The songs and dancing grew to a fever pitch, changeling magic seemed to thrum in the very air around them, enticing all to rise from their places resting on the side and return to the circle for one last dance. One more to give glory and thanks to Princess Celestia for the wonderful days she brought every morning, along with the safe, beautiful land she governed over with all her heart and soul.
Then, Queen Euphoria stopped and stood to full height, her gaze sweeping over the circle. All song and dance ceased without an utterance of any command.
With a warm smile, Queen Euphoria spoke in her rich, melodious voice, “Dear friends, guests, thank you all for sharing this wonderful evening and early morning with me.”
A murmured reply, gratitude in return, spread through the crowd like ripples across the lake’s surface.
Her gossamer wings buzzed, telling of her merriment, before she nodded in kind. “There are few words or songs that truly come close enough to expressing the gratitude we all owe Princess Celestia, ruler of Equestria and Herald of Day.” She paused a moment to allow a polite rumble of hooves stomping in applause. “Though it may surprise our visitors to know, Respite and the Crown have a long, amicable history together—from the day my ancestor, Queen Serenitatem, approached her, disguised, to purchase a small, forgotten spot of land nestled in the heart of Neighagara Forest, in fact. Since that day, it has been customary to give thanks, much as you do, for her eternal duty to bring forth the sun, as well as the chance to make our home here.”
To her right, Sure Stroke heard Sleet whisper, “The Princess? She knows of this place?”
“News to me,” Snow Flurry replied. “I thought it was a secret.”
“Indeed it is,” Queen Euphoria addressed them, her smile never faltering. “The best, and worst, kept secret in all the land, thanks in no small part to her influence.”
Sure Stroke’s ears stood straight. This was different from her usual speech. By Celestia, just her direct answers were beyond the norm!
Was it some flight of fancy? A moment of charity, perhaps?
Or, more likely, did the debt she felt her Caretakers owed Princess Celestia compel her to drop pretense and speak so candidly?
As all these questions buzzed about within her head, Queen Euphoria directed her gaze eastward. A fond smile, almost like a young nymph awaiting her grandmother’s arrival, spread across her features.
“And now, the time has come,” she said. “The longest day in all the year begins as soon as her sun’s light comes forth, brought out of its nightly rest. Let us watch and pay our respects together, as one village. One hive.”
Together, they turned to face east. Sure Stroke pressed herself against Aspire’s side, breaming at him when he turned to waggle his ears and steal a quick kiss before wrapping a hoof around her shoulders. Squeezing her tight, he laid his head atop hers and directed his eyes to the horizon.
Another day, another Summer Sun Celebration together in Respite with her favorite changeling.
Her Aspire.
Time seemed to crawl along, deliberately, a conscious effort to delay the sun’s rising and tease them all. But then those few minutes they knew they were meant to wait passed them by.
Sure Stroke knew it was time. Deep within her very bones, every bit of her instincts told her that it was dawn. Dawn had come at last.
Without the sun.
The first murmurs were of confusion. With each passing moment, as a scant few turned to ten, then twenty, and then a half hour, it grew to a dull roar. Where was the sun? Why, today, of all days, was its rising late? Surely, Princess Celestia wouldn’t dally. Surely, she wouldn’t do something silly like oversleep on the day of her own celebration, right?
It was that notion, along with a question from innocent lips, which turned confusion into the icy grip of fear’s claw:
“Where’s the sun?” Sunshower asked. She turned to fix Cordial Tidings with a quizzical stare. “Does sunrise come later in Respite, Cordy?”
Like a spell had been cast, the murmurs turned to a frenzied, fearful cacophony. All around them, ponies and changelings huddled close, gathering friends, loved ones, and family together so that the hive and its guest were near while they tried to make sense of this travesty.
Aspire’s hoof gripped her tight, his eyes flitted this way and that, scanning the crowd.
Sure Stroke felt something brush against her side. She turned and found Esalen pressing Toola against her, leaving herself on the opposite side as though she and Aspire meant to guard over them. Then, came their parents and Nimble and Pepperming, all huddling as close as they could. The entire group, the entire hive shifted closer and closer to Queen Euphoria.
Survival instincts. Protecting their own—our own—until they know what to fight against to keep us all safest, she realized.
Queen Euphoria was the first to act. “I want everyone under cover either in Sweet Treat’s shop or the ice cream parlor immediately,” she commanded, her voice quiet, yet still carrying over the din. “No hatchling or newborn foal is to be left unwatched. No guards or adults are to be outside until we’re certain it’s safe. No exceptions.”
Stricken by the anxiety in her tone, everyone hastened to obey her command. Mothers quickly scooped up their foals and nymphs and carried them off to the shops. Sweet Treat, Vigil, Creamy, Frosty, and Chocolate Almond hurried to unlock the doors and shepherd everyone inside, guiding them to open spaces in the dining areas, the kitchen, even their own living space and basements!
“What’s going on?” Snow Flurry babbled, her wing draped over her family. “What happened?”
“We’re not sure,” Esalen replied, nudging her to follow the crowd. “Queen Euphoria is worried, so the plan is to keep everyone close. The hive gathers to itself for safety.”
The mares blinked. “Like a pegasus flock,” Sleet murmured.
Aspire nodded. “Yes, exactly. Now please, hurry!” He tugged Sure Stroke forward, enough that she could see his fangs beginning to lengthen. “I don’t like this!”
A quick look around showed that he wasn’t alone. Esalen, Warm Welcome, Faith, Mantis, Ladybug, all of the changelings and nymphs’ fangs were growing, ready for a fight.
But none so impressive as Queen Euphoria’s.
As Sure Stroke was guided inside, she was able to sneak a one last look at the changeling Queen. Queen Euphoria stood at the rear of the crowd, facing away from the buildings to watch for attack. Her lips were peeled back in a threatening snarl, her eyes glowing an angry green in open challenge to any who threatened what was hers.
Once everyone was inside, her horn flashed. All the plates and food leapt off the tables and hovered lazily after her as she moved to join them. Queen Euphoria strode into Sweet Treat’s shop, straight over to the table where Breezy and their lovers awaited, and sat down and swept them into her embrace. With one flick of magic, she set the food down on the waiting countertop.
After a moment, she closed her eyes and drew in a deep, shaking breath. “Stalward,” she called.
“Your Highness?” the changeling replied from the corner he and Abacus stood.
“When you’re able, go over to the parlor and tell them this—” she drew in another breath “—we will wait until the sun rises, then the Village Guard and I will patrol. Once we’re certain the village is safe, I will speak with Hawkeye, Merriweather, Duplicitous, and Façade about an assignment. Then, we make the call to let our villagers and guests return to their homes.” She turned to the other guards lingering nearby. “Is that understood?”
A ripple of murmurs confirming her orders came in reply. Satisfied, Queen Euphoria held her husband and lovers close, like they were her very lifeline.
Twin pairs of strong hooves wrapped around Sure Stroke. She let out a squeak, glancing left and right to find herself sandwiched between Toola Roola and Aspire, with Esalen on Toola’s opposite side. All around them, ponies and changelings were gathered together similarly—friends, lovers, families, even guests were all huddled together to protect one another on this night.
The longest Equestria had known in a thousand years.
The Long Night, as the villagers had come to call it, threw tradition out the window for several days. Every changeling and pony save for the four sent off to Canterlot by Queen Euphoria had been ordered to stay within the boundaries, the foals and nymphs were strictly forbidden from playing in the forest—none dared to question it. Not after they saw the terror amongst the adults.
Or the way Queen Euphoria’s fangs were extended to their full length as she returned from stalking about the village to scour for attackers with the rest of the guard. Even Aspire knew full well not to speak until she smiled, her fangs back to their normal length, and gave everyone the okay to return to their homes in groups.
Though he made darn sure to keep Sure Stroke close by his side all the way up the path, right up until the moment he saw her through the door into her parents’ house.
The quick kiss goodbye they shared had been barely enough to keep him calm, but it had to do. Offers from Drizzly and Skydancer to sleep on the couch or even share a bed wrap with Sure Stroke were refused with the heaviest of regrets.
Everyone was meant to be in their own house that night. If he hadn’t walked through the door when he did, his mother would’ve come looking for him.
Faith hadn’t stopped pacing until Esalen returned from walking Toola home, escorted by Tailwind and Fleetwing. Even then, the twins knew full well it was time to huddle close to their parents to ease their worry.
But life went on. Today, the spiritual successor to Trade Day would commence, and the former nymphs and foals would take the first real step into adulthood.
By moving out of their parents’ houses.
A gentle prod to his shoulder jolted Aspire out of his memories of days prior. Blinking twice, he turned away from the plate of blueberry muffins his mother had placed before him and leveled a quizzical look at Esalen.
His sister arched a brow in reply. “Are you going to daydream all day, smugling?” she teased. “We’re going to be late to see where our house is if you don’t start eating.”
“Sorry.” Aspire ducked his head, his chitinous ears drooping slightly as he grabbed a muffin and took a quick bite. “Just thinking over the past couple days.”
Esalen’s features softened. “Oh. Oh, then I’m sorry.” She blew a deep breath through her nose. “The Long Night frightened everyone, I shouldn’t be so cold.”
“It’s not like I was holding up a sign, Essy. I don’t take it as a slight.”
“I know.”
A small smile of thanks flitted across her face, Aspire deftly flicked the tips of his tongue out to taste the relief emanating from her. A lie, he knew, but one for his benefit.
How very Enchanter of her. Grandpa would be proud.
Esalen took a deep sip of her tea, her eyes fluttering shut as she savored the warmth. “So,” she began, “are you excited?”
“Isn’t everyone?” he asked, smiling back at her.
“Well, yes. But I’m asking you.” She opened her bright pink eyes and met his gaze, her smile spread into a full, toothy grin. “I feel like I could just bounce straight out of my carapace!” she practically squealed.
Chittering, Aspire shook his head. “That’s Toola rubbing off on you,” he quipped. “As for me, I’m … I don’t know how to describe it.” The young changeling reclined in his seat and took another bite of muffin, chewing slowly to savor the sweet, fluffy morsel. Turning his gaze toward the ceiling, he sighed happily and said, “Finally get to live in our own house! With Doodle!”
“And Toola,” Esalen added almost wistfully. She hummed a low note, a cadence of rapid thumps against the wood made Aspire glance down to find her bouncing. “I finally get to hold her every night!”
The twins beamed and waggled their ears. Their joy was palpable, a delightful sweet taste of cotton candy fluff that made their meal all the better, strange though his girlfriend might think it. “Too sweet!” she’d probably scoff and stick out her tongue, her eyes dancing with mirth. “Your changeling tastebuds are all broken!”
And then I’d boop her nose and tell her that her pony tastebuds just weren’t developed to handle such high quality sweetness, Aspire thought with a fond smile. I can tease her all day and night once we move in.
They finished their breakfast in relative silence, each took the time to relax and just revel. When they finally finished, Aspire held out his hoof in silent offer to take her plate and glass. A gesture she accepted with a nod and quick thanks before she trotted off to retrieve their saddlebags—which contained the few things the pair hadn’t yet packed away like books, toothbrushes, and brushes. Basic amenities.
Everything else was stored away—in boxes rather than slime pods, so to avoid them hardening in the sun. Not nearly as fun or easy as some might think. Hardened slime might as well be solid rock.
Aspire rinsed their plates and cups, then took the time to scrub them all down with a soapy sponge before he put them back in the cupboard.
The sound of hooves thudding a cadence against the wood floor made his ears twitch. He turned left, smiling as he came face to face with his mother. Turning away from the cabinet, he greeted her with a hug. “Morning, mom,” he said softly, squeezing her tight.
“Good morning,” Faith whispered, her hooves snaked around his shoulders, squeezing him so tight he thought his carapace might crack. She nuzzled into the crook of his neck, then planted a gentle kiss on his cheek. “My little nymphs all grown up, and about to live together in their new home.”
“Just down the way,” Aspire said. He drew back to hold her at foreleg’s length and gave his sunniest smile. “It’ll be just like having us here. Only, we’ll be less likely to break grandma’s stuff and eat all the food.”
She snorted and shook her head. “Well, I won’t miss you breaking my mother’s things,” Faith admitted. “But, I’ll miss hearing those little hooves thudding against my floors, or the pair of you arguing and wrestling about.”
“I thought you hated that. Though, if you really want, I can go start something with Essy right now and—”
His mother covered his mouth with her hoof. “Hush, you troublesome changeling,” she scolded, her sad smile never faltering. “I’ll miss having you both here, but I’m happy and proud. And I know you’ve been waiting to have Sure Stroke in your home.”
“And Essy,” he corrected. “And Toola, too. She’s fun.”
“Of course.” Her golden eyes shone with pride, despite the tears welling up. “And today, you get that. But for now …” she trailed off, gently tugging him forward into another embrace.
He didn’t resist.
What nymph would resist their mother’s hug?
Aspire laid his head upon her shoulder and closed his eyes. For just a few moments longer, he was under her roof, still her little nymph. Another cadence of hooves made his ears twitch, he cracked open his eyes to find Esalen entering the kitchen again, her smile faltering a moment as she tilted her head and regarded their mother in silence.
Her tongue didn’t flicker out. She knew.
Deep down, everyone in the house knew this day would come, and how much it would hurt Faith.
Esalen needed no prompting or reminder. She simply acted.
The saddlebags were set down on the floor, forgotten for a few moments while Esalen joined the hug and laid her chin on Faith’s opposite shoulder.
Aspire didn’t say a word when he felt hot tears pattering upon his shoulder plate. His hold simply tightened as he nuzzled his mother’s shoulder, his nostrils flaring as he inhaled her scent, the scent of home, like he might never see it again. A familiar sting made him squeeze his eyes shut.
For just a few minutes, they were the same naughty little nymphs she so lovingly raised. In a way, they always would be.
Just slightly down the road.
Aspire buried his face in her shoulder and pretended he didn’t feel the tears rolling down his cheeks.
Every year when Trade Day drew near, the little village came together in a rather lovely, lesser-spoken-of communal tradition. Something to help the young adults take that next step along the path, as well as offer a gift of goodwill from the old to the new.
Each household was arranged so there would always be four rooms—if there weren’t four to the house, the residents were expected to welcome visitors in need of a place to stay and keep to the practices of a good host until they left. One of the oldest traditions in Respite.
Naturally, one could be invited by older friends to fill an open room, or a group could sign up to live together. Otherwise, it would be arranged on moving day at Queen Euphoria’s house.
Since their group had long planned to live together, Aspire was quite happy to avoid that mess. No offense intended to Neat ’n Orderly and Prim ’n Proper, of course.
With his saddlebags slung across his back, he stood in the sitting room with Esalen, Sure Stroke, and Toola Roola, each glancing about, their eyes flitting between the twin hallways on either side of the room. Both led to a fork with a pair of bedrooms at either end, and a bathroom in between. Directly across the room, there was an open doorway which led to a sizable kitchen outfitted with wooden cabinets, a large pantry, an icebox, and an oven and stove. A wooden table and four chairs were set up in the dining area, just before a half-door and window leading out to a small backyard and Neighagara Forest.
Just like every home in the village, albeit with a slight variation in the layout.
“The Wood brothers altered the traditional layout on your house a bit,” Warm Welcome grunted from the doorway as though he’d read Aspire’s mind. He trotted inside, wiping a bead of sweat from his brow as he looked at the furniture he’d moved in with Drizzly, Mantis, and Rock Solid’s help, then turned to aim a tired smile at his friend. “Is that the last of it?”
Drizzly brushed a lock of damp, stormy gray mane out of his eyes. “I think so.” His gaze flitted to Sure Stroke. “Do you think that’ll be enough, sweetheart?”
Aspire let his gaze sweep over the four wooden desks, nightstands, and various carpets—all purchased as gifts by their families. A flick of his tongue gave him a taste of satisfaction and joy from his housemates.
Especially his girlfriend.
“I think so,” Sure Stroke replied, trotting over to wrap her father and Warm in a tight hug. “Thank you.” Turning to Mantis, who tried to hide himself away in the corner and pretend there was an interesting speck on the wall, she sidled over to brush her shoulder affectionately against his. “And you too, Mister Mantis.”
The burly changeling’s ear flicked. He turned to offer a tiny smile and nod. “Welcome,” he replied softly, reaching up to pat her head. Then his chocolate brown eyes flitted to Toola, a hopeful glimmer shone within.
Scarcely had a second passed before Toola bounced over, beaming and squealing in delight, to try to tackle her father in a hug, babbling her thanks faster than any but he could understand. Mantis barely flinched, though. He simply buried his muzzle in the crook of her neck and nuzzled her, wrapping a single foreleg around her shoulders in return.
The love between adopted daughter and father was just perfect. Delicious.
Aspire could only smile. Who wouldn’t in with such love washing over them? Respectfully, he turned away to grant them their moment and approached Warm Welcome with Esalen.
“Thanks, daddy,” Esalen said, catching him in a hug first.
Not to be left out, Aspire caught him from the other side. “You’re the best,” he added softly. “Thank you all for this.”
Warm Welcome chuckled, tiredly nuzzling each of their cheeks. “You’re welcome. I’m glad to help you all just like my parents helped me.” He drew back, his smile still in place. “So, any idea on rooms? Or have you not looked yet?”
“They haven’t looked yet,” Faith called from the hallway on the right. She emerged, her golden tail swishing merrily, with Skydancer and Ladybug trailing in her wake. The trio smiled, though perhaps none brighter than Faith herself. “The rooms are plenty large, but quite cozy I must say. I’d wager you’ll have plenty of room to store your canvases in your closet, Sure Stroke, dear.”
“Canvases? Ha!” Skydancer rustled her wings. “I could hide those nice Wonderbolts who ran that flight camp you went to, honey! Remember Sergeant Stormy and her daughter?”
Sure Stroke shuddered despite the fond smile upon her face. “Yes,” she replied. “Spitfire loved to get Soarin to hold me while she and Fleetfoot tickled me. Those three were terrible teases.”
Sounds like three pegasi after my heart, Aspire thought with a grin. Shaking his head, he turned to nose against her cheek, then stepped back to look at the three mares in turn. “I’m good with whichever as long as I have room for my desk and books. Do you three have a preference?”
To his left, Esalen dragged her hoof across the wooden floor in a long, slow half-circle, her face flushed a deep black. “Well,” she said, drawing out the word. “Toola and I have sorta talked things over a bit and …” Black chitinous ears laid flat against her scalp as her words failed her and a wobbly smile tugged at her lips. She held out her hoof, bending her leg at the elbow as if to offer it to someone.
In fact, she was doing just that.
Toola Roola took her cue, skipping over and taking the offered limb with a merry giggle, and pressed herself against Esalen’s side. “Essy and I have decided we’re going to share a room!” she crooned. “One of the ones on the left, I think, would be good!”
Her face still flushed, Esalen bobbed her head. “We thought it might be a good time to—you know—take that next step.” She shifted from one hoof to another, her eyes flitting from her parents to Toola’s. “Since we’ve been together for two years and all.”
That they had. Aspire flicked his tongue, the cotton candy and cake batter taste of their shared love made him want to buzz his wings, and only grew stronger when their parents moved to voice their approval and offer congratulations. But he quashed the notion as quickly as it came.
Esalen and Toola had a point—well, two, really. With as close as they’d grown over the course of two years of dating and that they’d stayed true, why shouldn’t they think themselves ready to take that next step in their relationship? And an extra room for guests or storage wasn’t a bad idea at all.
But Aspire’s mind lingered a bit longer on the former, and then it began a treacherous little jaunt over to Sure Stroke. Specifically, visions of himself waking each morning with her, his lovely Doodle, held tight in his hooves while they dozed together in a gelatinous bedpod made of his own slime, and wrapped warm and snug in a nice bedwrap, his snout nuzzling into the crook of her neck.
By love, the mere thought brought a wistful smile to his face.
A quick glance to his right found Sure Stroke gazing back at him, her eyes seemed far off, the same look of wonder she wore when daydreaming or looking at scenery to draw. She bit her bottom lip and seemed to consider the prospect. Behind those beautiful, deep blue eyes, Aspire could see both desire and uncertainty.
A discreet poke of the twin tips of his tongue confirmed it—Sure Stroke wanted it too, but she just wasn’t sure about something.
Timing, maybe? Or perhaps just plain nerves at the prospect, or how to go about broaching the subject. Either way, it didn’t really matter why. Only one thing concerned Aspire:
Sure Stroke wasn’t ready.
If she wasn’t ready, they weren’t ready. Separate rooms it would be. He would just have to make the call in her stead.
Aspire winked, then aimed a winning smile at the girls. “I think I’ll take one of the rooms on the right so you two have some—ah—privacy.” He casually turned away and trotted over to take position next to a solid oak vanity and nudged it with a hoof, internally, he winced at its size and weight. Moving it to Sure Stroke’s room would prove to be a challenge.
The things he did for his Doodle.
His smile never abating, he looked over at Esalen and waggled his ears before continuing, “I would hate to be rude or voyeuristic by tasting anything during the evening hours, wouldn’t you agree?”
In that instant, Aspire wished he’d snagged Esalen’s cameras from one of the boxes before he’d made his comment. As soon as the words left his lips, twin blushes spread throughout their faces, even to the nape of Toola’s neck and the tips of her ears.
Ladybug chittered, fixing him with a faux stern look. “Now, now, Aspire, you’d better be careful teasing your housemates,” she warned, her eyes twinkling. “Given the fourth member of your little home, I don’t think you want to cast that particular stone.”
He sucked in a breath through his teeth at the sight of his sister’s eyes flashing and her blush slowly abating. Cursing Ladybug, Aspire gave a nervous chitter and turned his attention to Sure Stroke. “H-How about you go pick your room, Doodle? Dad, you wanna help me carry this thing?”
Chuckling, Warm Welcome trotted over to take his place on the other side. “Smooth, son,” he muttered. “Very smooth.” Warm then turned to aim his smile at Sure Stroke and said, “Honey, why don’t you go take a look at the rooms and pick? We’ll bring your things along once you’re ready.”
Sure Stroke bobbed her head, feathers fluffing merrily. “Sounds like a plan!” She glanced at Esalen and Toola, and said, “Er, not to jump on the teasing bandwagon, but I think I’ll leave that wing of the house to you two. Probably best that way, if you’re doubling up.”
Her piece said, she trotted passed the mares, pausing to nuzzle her mother and Faith’s noses before she turned down the hall.
Aspire and his father shared a nod, then began to channel magic. With twin hisses, they lifted it up, Aspire gritted his teeth at the weight. “I’ve got my end,” he ground out.
“Likewise,” his father replied. “I’m going to turn, it might dip.”
“I’ve got it. Just don’t drop the whole thing without warning me.”
Slowly, Warm Welcome turned just as he said, then began to walk toward the right hallway with Aspire carefully bringing up the rear. The pair were mindful of the wall, slowly making that turn at the corner so they didn’t carve a groove or put a chip in the woodwork on the first day. Once through, it was a short walk straight through to the bathroom door before they could set it down and await Sure Stroke’s direction.
She stood before the bedroom door on the left, her feathers twitched in consideration. Sure Stroke hummed a low note and tilted her head. The proverbial wheels in her head turning at full velocity. Clicking her tongue, she glanced over her shoulder at the opposite room and flicked her tail.
“You need it darker and warmer to keep your slime gelatinous right?” she asked.
Aspire waggled his hoof in a so-so gesture. “I can close the blinds and put slime over them. It’s not that big a deal.”
The young mare rolled her eyes. “Which is easier to deal with for it, then: sunrise or sunset?”
“Rise,” Warm Welcome cut in with a note of humor in his voice. “Keeps it warm and gooey. It’s dry heat we have to worry about.”
“Thank you, Warm,” Sure Stroke replied, turning to trot toward the rightmost door. She nosed against his cheek, then tossed a mocking look at Aspire. “Nice that some of us can stop being tricky and teasing for a bit and help! I’ll take this one.”
With a roll of his eyes, Aspire shot a smirk at his grinning father. “Yeah, yeah, help me pick up the vanity, you traitor.” He lit his horn again, grunting as he lifted his side. “Can’t even let me tease my girlfriend in peace.”
Warm Welcome chittered and shook his head taking up his side in turn. “Not at all, son. But the sooner we finish, the sooner I get to rest my old knees. So let’s get this done.”
A fair point. One Aspire certainly couldn’t argue, either. Together, they carried the vanity through the open doorway and into the room, guided by Sure Stroke to turn and place it against the nearside wall.
“One down,” she said, trotting by with a flutter of her wings. “I think the bed next. Aspire, help me carry it?”
He barely paused to catch his breath. The young changeling hastened to follow along in her wake, a small smile spread across his muzzle. “Right behind you, Doodle.”
Not a bad place to be, if he was perfectly honest. Living together was going to be a delight.
Aspire’s dazzling blue eyes flitted about the room, a smile spread across his face as he examined his work. Green storage slime oozed down the corners of the room and crawled out over the floor like webbing, his wooden desk had been set up along the far wall with a podseat before it, and his pencils, pens, papers, and several of Sure Stroke’s sketches were all organized to an almost obsessive degree. His old saddlebags, tattered and worn by years of running around town and playing, hung from a hook mounted on the wall.
A tall bookshelf stacked to the brim with all the texts and stories he’d collected over the years stood along the far side wall, facing toward the desk so they were easily visible. The perfect method for an idle selection, if he did say so himself.
Aspire stole a glance up at the ticking clock stuck to the wall by a glob of slime. Five-thirty, he thought. Need to finish up making my bedpod before dinner.
Turning his attention back to the half-finished bedpod, the changeling stepped toward it as he maneuvered his tongue about within his mouth and let his slime glands begin to secrete their payload. His cheeks filled, Aspire drew in a deep breath through his nose and tilted his head back, then snapped forward as quick as a striking snake and spewed a thick stream of gelatinous slime over the pod, where it hit with a delightful squelch against the thick outer shell.
He nodded in satisfaction, his smile spreading into a grin. “Finally,” he muttered with a happy buzz of his wings. Aspire took a running leap, spreading his hooves wide and turning about in midair so he landed on his back within the warm, gooey embrace of his new bedpod. The changeling let out a sigh and repeated, “Finally!”
His own room in his own house! A home shared with his sister and favorite ponies, no less! Were he still a little nymph, Aspire might’ve kicked his hooves in the air and chittered his head off!
The thought gave him pause. Who was going to tell him that he shouldn’t do just that? He was an adult, for love’s sake—and in his own home!
Aspire could do what he liked, and if he so pleased to act like a nymph at his age, he would!
So he did. The full-grown changeling kicked his hooves in the air and chittered, buzzing his wings against his bedpod so the very slime vibrated around him and echoed with his wings. A strange, trilling melody tickled his ears and only made him chitter more.
“Should I come back?” Sure Stroke’s voice, thick with amusement, called from the door.
His ears twitched. Aspire jolted upright, his eyes snapped open and flitted about until he found his beautiful girlfriend standing in the doorway with a playful grin spread across her muzzle.
Sure Stroke sauntered into the room with such confidence and grace in her stride that one would’ve been forgiven for forgetting how nervous she’d been in her younger years. Her deep blue eyes scanned the room with a hawklike gaze, appraising his work as if she herself had plans for how his room should look.
A notion which brought a wry snort. As if!
The teasing edge to her smile vanished. “It looks good,” she said softly, turning her gaze upon him. Sure Stroke approached the age of his bedpod and reared up, resting her hooves upon the outer shell. “Almost like your old room.”
Aspire rolled over so he could nuzzle her nose. He trailed his hooves up to caress the underside of her wrists. “One or two changes here and there,” he murmured. “Why tinker with the overall design when it isn’t broken?”
“Fair enough.” Sure Stroke leaned into his touch. “I see you’re happy with your bedpod. Is it as comfortable as the last?”
“Of course. But don’t take my word for it.” He snaked his hooves around her elbows and then, with one quick jerk, tugged her forward so she toppled over the edge and into the gelatinous embrace of his new bedpod.
Then he rolled over and threw a foreleg across her chest, squeezing her tight before he dotted her nose with a kiss.
Sure Stroke let out a squeak, her wings unfurled and feathers fluffed in a magnificent display of plumage. Feathers so soft and beautiful he would let himself be wrapped in those wings even if it meant sacrificing his bedpod for her bed. A sight which earned her another kiss.
A streak of pink dusted her cheeks. “Flirt,” she accused.
Aspire hummed an affirmative. “You know it.” He leaned forward, slowly licking her nose. “And you love it.”
Her blush deepened, a wobbly smile played upon her lips as her ears slowly splayed back. He felt the tip of her tail swish against his ankles.
A low purr built in his chest and rolled about in the back of his throat. Aspire nipped at his girlfriend’s nose with his tiny, pointed incisors, then kissed the very same spot, earning a squeak and squirm that sent his blood pumping. Throwing caution to the wind, he sealed their lips together in a heated kiss and teased her lips with his forked tongue to request entry. One, to his delight, Sure Stroke was happy to grant and met with her own joining the fray with vigor.
The sweet taste of her love—cake with sweet white frosting—and a kick of lust’s spice danced upon his tongue. Aspire held her close, his tongue ensnaring hers in that way he knew would coax forth a gasp and sensuous arch of her back.
Sure enough, her grip around his neck tightened, Sure Stroke pressed herself against him, mewling into the kiss. The tips of her primaries teased and trailed up his thighs to caress his flanks. For a split second, he considered skipping dinner with Esalen and Toola altogether.
Why not? He had his favorite meal in his bedpod. And she seemed all too happy to play. Not to mention eager.
But plans had been made, and he couldn’t just assume that Sure Stroke would agree to feed him because of how she tasted. Besides, a kiss, a hug, a moment alone with her was more than enough. Those little moments always were.
Not to mention, he had her every day now.
Every day together in their home.
It almost pained him to break the kiss, and the protesting whine it drew from the mare beneath him drove him to appease her with an affectionate peck upon her snout. Aspire sat back on his haunches and gently tugged her up into a sitting position. “We should probably head out to the kitchen,” he said softly. “Before Essy and Toola decide dinner for us.”
Sure Stroke playfully rolled her eyes. “Oh, how horrible. It’s not like you and Essy don’t like the same foods!” She flicked a feather across his snout. “Or like we don’t know one another’s tastes after years together.”
A fair point, but he couldn’t just give her that. Her little feather flick earned her a gentle boop upon her nose. “Well, yes, but I think we should still have a say in what gets made, so come on.”
Aspire tugged her toward the edge of the shell, chittering in amusement as she feigned a groan and tried to sandbag his efforts. A quick jerk brought her tumbling forward into his embrace, just perfectly so he could nip at her ear.
The pegasus yelped, her ears splaying once more. “E-Excuse you!” she cried.
“Quit acting like a foal and I won’t have to tease,” he retorted, baring his fangs in a wicked grin. “I won’t complain though—I win either way.”
With a huff and a poorly faked glare, Sure Stroke twisted out of his grasp and aimed a swipe of her wing at his head as she moved toward the edge of the shell.
Years of such antics prepared him well. As if he had a sixth sense, Aspire ducked at just the right moment, just in time to feel her downy feathers brush over his mane. Then, he darted forward and, laying a hoof upon her wing so she couldn’t go for another swipe, stole a quick kiss.
Sure Stroke’s frown was ruined by a little twitch at either corner of her mouth. “Jerk.”
“You know it, Doodle.” Aspire waggled his ears and stole another kiss. “Now come along. It’s our first meal together in this house, and I will cocoon and drag you along if you force me to!”
His threat carried little real heat, more teasing than anything. But it served to get her moving, albeit with another playful roll of her eyes and incomprehensible mutter under her breath.
Sure Stroke hopped down from the bedpod and took her place on his right side. The tips of her feathers brushed affectionately against his flank. “Ready, oh venerable smugling?” she teased.
Leaning in to brush his shoulder against hers, Aspire nosed against her cheek. “Of course, silly Doodle.”
Mealtimes in Faith’s house had always been a bit interesting—well, mealtimes in changeling houses throughout the village typically were. It only made sense, given that some meals involved feeding on ponies’ love and then coaxing the silly things to eat more than their usual fill to regain their strength. But what was quite different was how they cooked when in teams.
Faith had always taken such duties on herself, all but forbidding guests to assist. Her family and the mares in her nymphs’ lives, on the other hoof, were another matter entirely.
Much like their ancestors in the Faerie Glen, when changelings came together to cook, it wasn’t just a simple matter of preparing ingredients, cooking, adding spices, and serving.
Aspire idly tossed a can of lemon-pepper across the kitchen into his sister’s waiting hoof, with such accuracy that she didn’t even have to turn to look in order to catch it. At the same time, he nimbly stepped out of the way so Toola could prance past on her hind hooves carrying a tray of freshly cleaned and sliced fish—tilapia, this time—while passing him a pair of spice shakers for the rice without so much as a stumble or faltering step. Rather, she tittered and waggled her brows at him, flicking her tail across his shoulder as she passed him by.
He stuck his tongue out at her, chuckling to himself, and trotted over to deliver the spice shakers to Sure Stroke. Setting them on the counter next to the stove, he gazed over her shoulder to inspect her progress. The light brown grains and scent of herbs made his mouth water.
Aspire waited until his loving girlfriend gave him the nod and shifted to allow him space before he took up the spice shakers and lightly seasoned the pan. A hum of her approval earned a smile and peck on her soft, violet cheek. “Smells good,” he praised.
Sure Stroke rustled her wings. “It’s that old recipe you all seemed to like last time you visited my—er, my parents’ house,” she amended. “I thought it might go well with the fish, especially the lemon-pepper.”
“I’d imagine it will. I look forward to trying it. Do you mind if I just—” he made to reach across the stove to grab a little bottle of soy.
His girlfriend didn’t lean back as he expected. Instead, the cheeky little thing leaned up and kissed him at the end of his jaw, right where the joint met his neck. The exact spot she knew never failed to bring forth a rolling purr.
A teasing nibble nearly made him jump. Aspire retrieved the bottle of soy sauce and shot her a sidelong look, and received a winning grin in kind.
She’d pay for that later. He flicked his tongue across her snout, smirking at the squeal and scrunch it elicited, then stepped away from her side of the stove before she could retaliate.
Others might call it a retreat. Aspire preferred to think of it as a tactical maneuver toward future girlfriend squirming.
Aspire trotted over to where he’d set up a half-circle pan over one of the open burners, leaning over to inspect the green beans he’d been working on. Taking a quick sniff, he nodded happily. They were ready.
He poured a generous amount of soy sauce into the pan, then plucked the sesame shaker off the overhead rack and shook the seeds over the hissing, bubbling mixture. With another nod, he selected a wooden spoon from a hook and began prodding the green beans around so each was evenly soaked.
Their meal was ready in short order. The four divided up duties with little discussion needed—each bringing their respective dish over to the table, then setting about to retrieve plates, cutlery, glasses, and cider from the icebox.
Once the table was set, they each slid into one of the wooden chairs surrounding the table—with both couples, predictably, sitting so they were closest to one another—and began dishing up their food. Idle chatter mixed with laughter and mirthful chittering as they began to eat dinner.
Their first meal together under their own roof.
And by love was every bite of it delicious. From the delicious kick of lemon-pepper tilapia to the perfected spice of Sure Stroke’s rice, and the tangy green bean dish he’d so carefully made, Aspire wasn’t quite sure he could’ve picked a better meal.
Well. A full meal of love notwithstanding. That just wasn’t fair.
By the time they’d finished everything off, Aspire found himself wanting more. But without any leftovers remaining, he had to settle for something he and Esalen hadn’t done since they were five.
The twins shared a look, then a solemn nod. Aspire had to suppress a snicker at the confused glances Sure Stroke and Toola fixed them with before they picked up their plates in unison and set about licking them clean, complete with loud slurping noises.
Musical laughter filled his ears, the taste of mirth played upon his tongue like cotton candy fluff as he finished cleaning his plate of soy and fish. A delectable sweetness he savored.
Then, the felt the soft caress of one of his lovely girlfriend’s feathers tease along the outside edge of his ear. Aspire squirmed and writhed, a half-squeak escaped his lips. He pinned his ear and pressed his head against his shoulder to guard from his assailant.
“You are still such a nymph!” Sure Stroke mock scolded. Her eyes dazzled merrily, a bright smile nearly split her muzzle. “What would your mother say if she saw you two?”
“Mom can’t scold us now!” the twins chimed in unison, both smirking at their respective girlfriends.
“We’re doomed, Doodle!” Toola cried, throwing a dramatic hoof across her forehead. She fluttered her lashes. “Doomed to suffer in a house with the terrible twins, unchecked by their mother’s firm hoof! Woe is us! Woe is us!”
Across the table, Esalen snickered. “Give it a reset, giggle box, you know you love it,” she said, lightly booping her love’s nose. “And you’re laying it on a bit think, don’t you think?”
“When dating you?” Toola teased before pecking her nose. “Never.”
Chuckling, they rose and began to carry their plates over to the sink. Aspire and Sure Stroke volunteered to wash while Esalen and Toola retrieved the rest of the dishes, then helped put them back in their appropriate cabinets and drawers.
A little flirt of Sure Stroke’s soft tail earned a smile and brush of his shoulder against hers, then a kiss beneath her jawline. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her smile and bite her bottom lip. Those deep, soulful eyes of hers dazzled so that his heart skipped a beat.
When they finished, Aspire snagged a towel off the hook to dry his hooves, then passed it over to Sure Stroke. She returned the gesture with a grateful kiss, and a little lick to the tip of his nose.
Aspire beamed, leaning up against the counter while the girls trotted over, finished with their duties.
“I’d call that a resounding success for our first meal together,” Esalen said. She leaned against Toola Roola and nuzzled into the crook of her neck. Her eyes flitted over to meet his. “We should probably think of some sort of rotation for meals, though. It’s probably not going to work out that all four of us can cook at the same time every night.”
“Mornings, too,” he replied with a nod. Turning to Sure Stroke he asked, “Think we can take nights and they can do mornings?”
Sure Stroke bobbed her head from side to side. “You do have the earliest start, so that’d probably work out best.”
“Caress did say we’d be opening up around nine, so you’d be at school already, smugling.” Toola giggled. “We’ll think of you while we relax and enjoy our coffee.”
“And I of you when I get done with my trade earlier,” Aspire shot back. “Sounds to me like we have a plan. And a good first night under the same roof.”
Another fit of giggles escaped Toola’s lips. She waggled her ears and chimed, “One big, happy family at last!” Looping her hoof around Esalen’s elbow, she tugged her forward and threw her hooves wide, drawing everyone into the biggest hug she could manage. “Group hug! First night group hugs for all!”
Laughing and chittering filled their modest kitchen. Aspire managed to wriggle his forelegs free so he could one around the bubbly mare’s shoulders, the other around his happy little pegasus.
His Doodle.
Sweetness, utmost love and joy from both mares danced upon his tongue. Ice cream, cotton candy, and caramel, all in one bite.
If he weren’t so full, he might just ask. But, then again, the moment was far too perfect.
So perfect, he had to share a look and a nod with Esalen again, and ruin it.
The twins groaned, each burying their noses in their girlfriends’ shoulders and cried, “Do you silly ponies have to be so sappy?”
Aspire knew full well he’d earned the gentle swat over his ears. He also knew just how much she expected it, and the mirth and joy she felt in her chest.
He could taste it all night, even as they shuffled along to bed a few hours later. A feeling which only billowed when they finished brushing their teeth and made to part in the hallway.
A hoof upon his shoulder stopped him in mid step. Aspire turned to meet Sure Stroke’s eyes, flitting his tongue curiously to receive a sampling of delectable cake and sweet frosting, and a hint of spice—her love mixed with desire.
Fixing him with a half-lidded gaze, she trotted forward, her shoulder brushing lightly against his flank and soft feathers trailing along his side until she drew close enough to nuzzle beneath his chin. “Care to wrap me up tonight?” she whispered softly. “Spend our first night here together?”
His ears stood ramrod straight. Aspire dotted a kiss upon her brow, then laid his head atop hers. “I’d love nothing more.”
Aspire awoke to warmth the likes of which he only knew on those happy nights of nymphood sleepovers. His eyes still shut, he smiled, shifting just slightly in the comfort of the night’s bedwrap as he tightened his embrace around the beautiful mare in his grasp. Nuzzling into the back of her neck, her drew a sleepy, contented sigh from his podmate. His girlfriend.
The notion to stay just like this, snuggled together, and bask in her company all day floated to the forefront of his mind. But the pesky responsible adult side of him decided to stand up and remind him that he wasn’t a nymph on summer break any longer.
He was a full-grown changeling with a trade. A trade which began today.
A heavy sigh escaped his lips, washing over his slumbering girlfriend’s coat. She shuddered in his grasp and mumbled in her sleep, “‘pire, not in front of the foals … s’posed to be teaching …”
Arching a brow, Aspire opened his eyes and fixed the back of her head with a wry look. He blew a breath out his nose to banish a few locks of mussed purple mane, then leaned in to nuzzle just beneath her right ear. “I’m certainly not doing anything I wouldn’t in front of the classroom,” he whispered. “But you need to wake up so we can get moving, silly Doodle.”
Her fear flicked twice and she began to stir as if to rise. And, indeed, years ago he might have been fooled into thinking she would be awoken so easily from such comfort.
But countless nights spent sleeping at one another’s homes had educated Aspire in the ways of the sleeping Sure Stroke. A knowing smile crept across his muzzle. The show was about to begin.
She settled right back down with another mumble, incomprehensible this time. Her feathers fluffed and twitched and he could feel her forehooves clamp down upon his own, squeezing them tight like she was trying to make certain he couldn’t release his embrace or try to tickle her out of her happy slumber. A wise move, he had to say.
Unfortunately for her, it provided no such protection from his nose, lips, or fangs.
The changeling nuzzled a slow circle in her mane, the tips of his fangs teasing her scalp gently in just the right way; it never failed to make her gasp and arch her back and press into his chest. “C’mon, Doodle,” he crooned, kissing just beneath her ear. “You know it’s time to get up. I’m gonna have to start nibbling if you don’t behave.”
Another flick. She ducked her head as if to hide and her wings unfurled just as much as the bedwrap would allow, but it wasn’t enough to cover herself and protect from the impending onslaught. Instead she gave a more insistent murmur, one of stern demand for continued sleep and cuddles, and nuzzled his wrists. Adorable.
But not today, pretty mare.
He leaned in close, teasing his lips and fangs along the outer edge of her ear. “Wake up,” he sang. Aspire opened his mouth and let the forked tips of his tongue flicker against her coat, drawing another sudden bout of flicking to try and escape. But all for naught. He caught it in his teeth and nibbled gently for a few seconds, savoring the gasp and rush of desire he tasted.
A needy whine sounded from the back of her throat. Feathers fluffing, Sure Stroke pressed herself against him, her hips bucking back. He felt her tail swish against his carapace. “Aspire!” she pleaded.
“Time to wake up,” he said with a teasing chitter. “Let go of my hooves and open your eyes so we can get moving. I need to slice the wrap open anyway.”
Sure Stroke gave another whine, this one tapering off into a grumpy little grumble, but she surrendered, releasing his hooves and giving a little toss of her mane that whipped him in the face. One last little show of rebellion before his demands were met.
Fair, but he couldn’t let that pass without retribution. Aspire nipped just beneath her ear, catching a bit of skin with his incisors in a way that made her squeal, then leaned forward to slice the bedwrap open with his long fangs. Their cheeks brushed together as he worked, hers pressed against his as she gently nosed along the corner of his mouth. Always that last effort to sway him, so very much like a changeling, in her own way. A true mare of Respite.
Any other day, perhaps.
Turning to plant a gentle kiss on her lips, he pushed outward, splitting the bedwrap down the seam he’d created. The wrap split apart with a rubbery noise, and after one last whine from his darling girlfriend as she sat up and tossed her messy mane over her shoulder, she shot him a dirty look. A cheeky smile played upon his lips. “Good morning to you too, sunshine,” he teased.
Eyes narrowing, she flicked her primaries across his snout. “Hush, you,” she shot back, her warm smile robbing her words of any venom. “You’re lucky you’re cute or I’d have to pummel you for waking me up like that.”
His smile grew into a vulpine grin. Aspire rose slowly, with a sinuous, almost fluid motion, and caught her in a tight embrace. The changeling pressed his cheek against hers and drew his snout up her shoulder on a slow trek toward her neck, spurring a gasp as he coaxed her to present it for a gentle kiss and tease of his fangs. “I think,” he purred, “I might like to see you try, Doodle. If only so I have a reason to pay you back for the offense. Though, you just might enjoy that.”
The shudder that ran through her body demanded he flick his tongue to taste it. Oh, and there it was—sweet, delectable love, yes, but with no small dash of that wonderful spice he, admittedly, had craved for months. A little taste of her ardor, her want for him.
Not for the first time did he wonder if she might find it odd that he enjoyed tasting her desires when he coaxed them out; if he asked, might she be her precocious little self and demand to know why he only teased it? The answer was quite clear to him. It was mixed in, like a bitter herb.
Nerves.
Not ready.
Aspire gave no such hint that he was bothered. For how could he be? They would be ready when they both were ready, and not a second before. Until then, he had this. The chance to nuzzle a trail up her jawline to steal a lingering kiss upon her lips which made her ears splay and cheeks fill rosy red. “But for now,” he continued, sliding past her to hop out of the pod and flick his tail across her nose, “we need to get moving or we’ll be late for our first day of trades.”
Another bout of grumbling. She fixed him with a tired glare as she made to follow. “You’re a jerk, you know that?”
“Yes.” He waggled his ears. “But I’m your favorite jerk.”
He didn’t even try to dodge the swipe that followed. He’d earned that one.
After the pair had taken their turns washing and going through their respective morning rituals, Aspire and Sure Stroke met up again in the hallway to share a quick kiss and nuzzle before they trotted to the kitchen. As they made their way through their new home, the familiar scent of daisies, oatmeal, and freshly squeezed juice wafted to Aspire’s nose. A contented smile spread across his face as they rounded the corner to the kitchen.
It wasn’t pancakes, but his sister and Toola knew a good breakfast.
The mares were awake and peppy, as usual. Toola hummed and bobbed, swishing her tail so those lovely curls of hers bounced with each little motion of her hips while she added a bit of milk to the mix. She barely had to look over her shoulder to catch the can of cinnamon Esalen tossed her way, laughing as she put it to the side. “I’m not adding this into the whole thing, Essy!” she called.
Esalen chittered from her place near the table. “You know we all use it,” she replied, setting a ceramic jug of orange juice at the center. A plate, cup, and utensils were already set at each position. Her horn lit verdant green and a tendril of magic snaked out to collect a bowl of fresh daisies, floating it over to rest by the jug. Satisfied, she looked up, causing her sugar pink eyes to meet Aspire’s. “Well, well, good morning, sleepyheads,” she greeted with an ear waggle. Her tongue flicked out, a coy smile spread across her muzzle. “And how was our night together?”
Rolling his eyes, Aspire leaned against his blushing girlfriend and said, “Quite lovely, as a matter of fact. Spent the entire time wrapped and snuggled with the most beautiful mare in Equestria. Thanks for asking.”
The little squeak and duck of Sure Stroke’s head earned a round of chitters and giggles. Her feathers fluffing, she sucked in her lips as if to try and hide that goofy smile threatening to spread. “You’re ridiculous,” she muttered bashfully.
“And, yet, I’m not lying,” he replied without missing a beat.
The playful quips and laughter went back and forth as Toola doled out a bowl of oatmeal to each of them, passing around the cinnamon so they could season it to their liking. With that done, the four young adults sat down together as they had the night before and dined, a nice, leisurely conversation flowing between bites and sips, stolen kisses and brushed shoulders.
Though perhaps not with the same discretion that might have been required under their parents’ roofs.
Once they finished, Aspire and Sure Stroke collected the dishes and cutlery, taking them over to the sink for a quick wash. An unspoken little routine that had become quite typical as they’d gotten older—whoever didn’t cook, washed. When everyone cooked, it was time for team washing.
Aspire glanced at the clock glued to the sitting room wall by a well-placed glob of slime. “I’d better head out,” he noted. “If I don’t now, I’ll have to gallop through the village again.”
“And we get an hour of free time before we even have to think about moving!” Toola teased in song. “Maybe should’ve found a trade that let you sleep in, lazy-chitin!”
Esalen wrinkled her snout. “Leave his nicknames to me, treasure. That one missed the mark a bit.”
The bubbly little gymnast turned yoga instructor flicked a curl of her bouncy tail across her love’s nose. “I’ll nickname him if I want to, Essy! And I’m not wrong anyway!”
“Fair enough. He is lazy.”
Rolling his eyes, Aspire turned to summon his saddlebags. “Har har, laugh it up. One day, you two will adopt a nymph or foal, and I’ll teach them all sorts annoying things to do when I send them home from school.” He pointedly ignored their laughter and taunts in favor of catching his girlfriend in a hug and dotting a kiss upon her nose. “Have a good day with mom.”
“And you with Abacus and the foals,” Sure Stroke replied softly, pecking his lips. “I’ll see if I can sneak away to have lunch with you.”
“Hmmm, now there’s something to look forward to.”
The pair shared one last kiss, then Aspire regretfully released her from his embrace and briskly trotted out of the house and down the path leading into the village. His mind quite clear and set on his goal—his first true day of teaching. It wouldn’t do to be late a second time, Abacus’s little joke notwithstanding.
Speaking of which …
A wicked smirk made its way across his lips. Abacus had been just a bit too smug with his little prank. And having all their students sing that old song at him after?
Clearly, the student-teacher would have to impart a lesson to his mentor. If he could beat him there.
Aspire galloped toward the old schoolhouse like so many times before. This time, he had a few surprises in mind for that old unicorn.
The thundering of his hooves against the wooden floor echoed through the hallway, a familiar sound, though one that came without the fear of detention for a change. A wide grin split his face and he had to swallow a chittering laugh as he skidded around the corner, hopping on his right hooves to try to avoid an unfortunate collision with the far side wall, before he hurried toward his goal—that classroom door at the far end.
Hopefully, he’d beaten Abacus. He could just slip in, plant a little surprise, then slip back out and act like he’d been waiting. Like a good student.
Even he had to snort at the notion. Who’d believe that for more than half a second?
It’d probably work better if he just wandered around a bit until he saw Abacus show up, then sauntered in a few minutes after to enjoy the look on his face and the sweet, sweet taste of a prank gone well.
Aspire trotted to a halt just before the door and pushed it open, his eyes glowing green and his very carapace itching to get started.
Both that wicked glow and his smile died faster than any plan to steal from Queen Euphoria’s sweets stash.
“Ah, good morning, Aspire!” Abacus greeted with a merry wave. The stallion was seated at his desk with a mug of hot tea and two stacks of papers ready for grading. He fixed his new trainee with a bright smile and nodded toward the teapot he had set in the back corner on a small cupboard. “I just made a pot a bit ago. I’ve got a few spare mugs, unless you brought one in your bags.”
The changeling shook his head. “N-No,” he replied dumbly. “I only have the one Doodle made me for Sharers’ Day a few years back and I worry about breaking it, so I just … leave it home and only use it there.” Come to think of it, he hadn’t used it since the move. He’d have to change that later, but first, his plans! How in love’s name was he supposed to get one over on Abacus to balance the scales? Licking his lips, he trotted over to deposit his saddlebags by the desk, eying his teacher a moment. “Did … you come in early because you were behind on grading?”
Chuckling, Abacus shook his head. “Oh, Celestia no!” He raised his brows as if to share some great secret. “I come in early so I can get ahead on grading. That way, I get to go home and spend my free time with Stalwart, while the other teachers have to sit and grade papers either here or at home for hours.”
Aspire struggled to keep his dismay hidden. “So you wake up early every day just to get ahead on paperwork?” He blinked. “Instead of, like, staying an extra few minutes with Stalwart?”
“Oh, don’t you worry about me and Stalwart.” Abacus waved him off. “My husband wakes up before me on weekdays to shower and get ready for his shift. He usually ends up kissing me awake and coaxing me up by telling me about what he made me for breakfast before he heads out. We sleep in and cuddle on the weekends.”
Oh, sweet Morrigan’s crown, he gets up that early? The corner of his mouth twitched. “I … see.” Aspire forced himself to keep smiling, cursing inwardly all the while. He’d have to find some other way. Somehow. “Very forward thinking of you. I might have to borrow that one, if you don’t mind.”
The way his mentor beamed made his teeth grind. “Not at all! In fact, I highly encourage it! I’m sure Sure Stroke would just love to have you home earlier every day!” Abacus lit his horn and tugged one of the desk chairs over for Aspire to sit. “Now, why don’t you grab yourself a mug and lend me a hoof? I can show you how I tend to work the grading scale with this age group.”
The stallion’s face was the very picture of blissful ignorance. Innocence, even. He didn’t have the slightest clue!
Aspire didn’t dare flick his tongue. If he tasted innocence at that point, he would’ve had to hiss and fling something across the room. Any plan of deserved payback had been dashed by an unhappy, coincidental habit! One he’d have to wake up even earlier to get around!
Still, he kept that smile affixed. He couldn’t let Abacus know that. He’d find a way. “That’s a great idea. You have sugar, right?” he asked, making his way over to the cupboard.
“You’re asking a stallion married to a changeling if he keeps sugar in his cupboard? Aspire, please.”
“Fair enough.” Aspire opened the cupboard and selected a plain white mug, then grabbed the sugar bowl. He poured himself a full cup, spooned in enough sugar to make Sure Stroke cringe and mutter in that playfully just audible way about abusing an innocent cup of tea, then placed the bowl back and closed it up. Satisfied, he trotted back over to the desk and took his seat beside Abacus. “Okay,” he said. “So, what are we grading?”
“Oh, I had them do some write-ups on trades they were considering. Just like I had you do when you were younger.” Abacus gave him a sidelong look and smile. “So, really, easy grading. Unless they just wrote down a sentence and didn’t go into why or what they’d do with it.” Almost on cue, he looked down at the next paper on the stack and sighed. His smile fell. “Like this one, unfortunately. Cordial Tidings just doesn’t seem to like going into any sort of detail.”
Curious, Aspire stole a peek and promptly sighed just as he had. Just as Abacus said it, one line, no detail. Ah, reluctant students. He nodded toward the stack. “Do you want me to take half?”
Abacus lit his horn and split the stack resting in the middle of his desk, passing the bottom half to Aspire. “Please. The stack between ours is where we’ll put the graded ones.”
“Sounds like a plan.” He settled in to start, floating a red pen from Abacus’s little cup so he could take it in hoof. After a quick sip of his tea, he selected the first paper and began reading. Purely by habit, he ran his tongue along his lips to wet them, receiving in turn the distinct taste of contentment, joy, and …
Aspire froze. Slowly, he turned to look at Abacus and found the stallion looking at him out of the corner of his eye. That damnably innocent smile was still playing upon his lips.
But his eyes told another story. They twinkled like dazzling stars, or a changeling in the midst of a trick. “Is something the matter, Aspire?” Abacus tilted his head. “You look shaken.”
The changeling jolted. “Uh, no.” He forced a smile. “Just thinking over this one.”
Abacus hummed. “Well, don’t forget to leave feedback. We want to help them of course.” His piece said, he returned to his grading, floating his coffee cup up to meet his lips without a care toward the changeling giving him the most dangerous stare he could manage.
Very well. Aspire narrowed his eyes. Challenge accepted, Abacus.
Though it did sadden her to miss out on a prime opportunity to lay in a bedpod and cuddle with Aspire, plans to meet up and have lunch did offer Sure Stroke a nice little carrot to help make it through the morning. Especially after Esalen and Toola Roola rose and said their goodbyes as they left to start their first day under Caress’s tutelage.
Leaving her alone in an empty house.
Sure Stroke wrinkled her snout. She was never really one to enjoy such quiet. Certainly, when she’d first come to the village, she’d been shy and stayed off to the side, away from the rest of her classmates and friends, but there was at least some sound. A light breeze rustling through the leaves and blades of grass, the laughs and chittering mirth of her classmates playing a short distance away, woodland creatures scurrying about in the boughs of her favorite tree, or the faint sound of birdsong.
Being alone in an empty house made her feathers twitch. Such silence was just unnatural. Unpleasant, even.
So the decision to snatch her saddlebags off the hook and head out herself came only a short while after her friends had left. The warmth of the sun’s light washing over her coat as soon as she stepped through the front door brought a smile to her face, and put a little bit of a pep in her step and swish in her tail as she headed down the dirt path through town toward Aspire and Esalen’s old house. Toward Faith.
Naturally, her walk took her through the village center, where friends and fellow villagers were already milling about to start their days. She exchanged smiles and quick pleasantries with each, and a laugh at a group of colts maybe three or four years her junior nearly took her out at the knees, frantically galloping or flying in the direction of the schoolhouse, a few muttered curses toward Sweet Treat’s treats tasting so good. Some things in Respite just never changed—ironic, really, given half the populace.
As she turned to offer greeting to the ever-stoic Rock Solid, Sure Stroke felt her shoulder brush against another. She turned, an apology on the top of her tongue, but quickly died before it could be given voice. Her smile slipped.
Prim ’n Proper looked down at her as she always did—her eyes narrowed, her snout wrinkled and turned upward as if she smelled something foul, and a posture of one who caught a stay dog making a mess on the floor. “Two and a half years, and you still can’t learn manners?” she drawled. “How incredibly unsurprising.”
A spark of irritation flickered within her chest. Sure Stroke blew a breath through her nose, but managed to fix her sweetest, most insincere smile in place. A regular practice when dealing with Prim over the years. “Oh, well, you know me,” she said loftily. “Being rude, taking the time greet ponies, minding my steps so I don’t step on any foals hurrying along, and, y’know, going out of my way to bump into the biggest snob around.”
Nostrils flaring, Prim lowered her head, finally level with her. “Delightful. I’m sure you’ll do wonders working with Faith.” With a shake of her head and a scoff, she levitated her ever-present clipboard into view and glanced at it for a second. “Speaking of which, she was looking for you to help plan things out for your session today. Sweet Treat’s shop. Starting off your trade late already?”
“Actually, no.” Sure Stroke’s smile was sweeter than Aspire’s tea, she cast a meaningful look at the sun. “Unless I’ve suddenly lost my head, I’m on time. Heading to Sweet Treat’s shop around nine as agreed upon to meet up and discuss our first session together with a group.” Raising her brows just slightly, she stepped by her longtime pest and gave a mock shrug of her wings. Her ears were perked, ready to savor the fruits of her parting shot. “But, what do I know? Such a shame you can’t grow up with the rest of us and move on from foalhood grudges. How incredibly unsurprising.”
Sure enough, she heard that sharp breath, the beginnings of an angry growl just before Prim caught herself and fought to keep appearances. The same interaction they’d had since almost the day they’d met. It wasn’t her fault Prim was still stuck in the past and petty about one misstep about Respite culture.
Then she saw Toola’s face, younger and with just a bit more foal fat in her cheeks, looking at her sternly, a rare moment without that bubbly smile. No, it wasn’t her fault Prim was stuffy or petty.
Her steps slowed. Sure Stroke sighed and looked down at the ground. Slowly, she glanced back over her shoulder to watch her former classmate stalk off in the direction of Queen Euphoria’s home. Two years, and still the same song and dance. Maybe she hadn’t quite moved on either.
Sure Stroke faced forward and shook her head. “Just brush it off,” she muttered with an anxious flick of her tail. “Focus on your first day, not the town pest.”
Her good mood soured, she forced herself to think happier thoughts as she trotted onward—Aspire’s chittering laughter, his smile, the way he held her close, anything to perk her up before she got within range for Faith to taste her emotions. And, once she caught sight of that familiar changeling mare, with long golden mane tied in its usual ponytail and molten gold eyes, seated at one of the outside tables to take after-meal tea with Skydancer, Sure Stroke knew she’d have to be quick about it.
As she drew nearer, she saw their happy smiles as they chattered away, laughing and chittering and chatting with one another like friends since fillyhood rather than the pair who fumbled to find common ground two and a half years prior. Their voices were light and cheery as they spoke, and the way her mother’s feathers fluffed in embarrassment made Sure Stroke’s brow arch.
“You’d look lovely, Sky, dear,” Faith insisted. “It’s just a little circlet and a different way to braid it! With your mane, it’d go perfect! I could even style it like the old changeling way to complete the look. Drizzly would love it!”
Skydancer’s face flushed. “That’s easy for you to say,” she replied sheepishly. “I’ve always sort of just kept mine like …” she trailed off and gestured toward her long, wavy orange-red mane.
The changeling patted her hoof. “It’s a different style, yes, but trust me. I can show you later on, I think I have a few of my father’s books laying around. If not, Aspire will have them.” She rolled her eyes and drained the last bit of her tea. “For strictly educational purposes, I’m sure. Not at all to see if he can’t entice your daughter into doing up her mane.” On cue, she flicked out her tongue and gave a low purr before turning to greet Sure Stroke with a nod. “And what perfect timing. How was your first night living with my troublemakers, dear?”
Sure Stroke had to hide something else this time. The heat spreading across her cheeks as she bit her bottom lip didn’t help matters at all. “It was …” She ducked her head, resisting the urge to hide her face. “It was nice. We had a rather cozy evening together.”
Again, that forked tongue flickered. Faith’s brows raised. “I’m sure you did,” she drawled teasingly. She set her teacup down on the saucer and rose, turning to smile and bow her head to Skydancer. “Let me know what you think, Sky, and I’ll be happy to lend a hoof if you’d like. But for now, I’m afraid I’ll need to skedaddle before I’m late late for your daughter’s first day.” Faith paused to wink at Sure Stroke. “Usually, it’s the apprentices who’re late.”
Skydancer tittered. “Oh, yes!” She covered her mouth with a hoof. “You’d best get on your way, or she’ll make her huffy face like when she was a filly!”
“Wha—excuse me!” Sure Stroke glared indignantly. “I did not make a huffy face!”
“Oh, honey, one day I’ll show you the pictures.” Her mother’s eyes gleamed. “Aspire and Esalen’s antics gave me plenty of chances to catch a shot or two when you weren’t looking.”
Oh, terrific. A variety. Sure Stroke laid a hoof across her eyes and let out a groan. “You’re horrible. And yes—” she moved her hoof enough to peer at Faith through one eye “—we have to get ready for a couple group sessions today, right?”
Faith bobbed her head. “That’s right. Sky, have a good class session. After you dear,” she said, gesturing with a hoof.
With a nod and a quick hug exchanged with her mother, Sure Stroke bounded along to fall into step with Faith as she headed up the path toward her home. One her hooves had trodden countless times over the years.
Faith hummed a low note. Then, as they stepped off the path to allow a few fishers laden with tackle boxes and nets pass them by, she began to lay out her plan,“I thought we might try out that painting idea of yours. Well, I was wondering just how it might work with several ponies together as a sort of …” she trailed off, rolling a hoof through the air. “Bonding session.”
Curious, Sure Stroke turned, her ears twitching. “A bonding session?”
“Something to show them they’re not alone,” Faith explained. She turned, offering a small smile. “Sort of like how Aspire and Esalen reached out to you, dear. But, more geared toward some—”
“Longstanding issues,” Sure Stroke offered.
“Yes, quite. A bit of a way to show that we’re not weak or pathetic when we suffer and seek help. Or lean on others. Quite the opposite, in fact.”
The young mare hummed a note. “It makes us stronger?”
“In part, yes. But it’s not just seeking the help that makes us, and our patients, stronger.” The pair stepped back onto the path and continued onward. Faith’s smile was as bright as the very sun.
“It makes us stronger when we admit we have a problem and need help,” Faith continued, “and in how we move forward.”
Sure Stroke felt a bead of sweat rolling down the back of her neck as she gazed out at the ponies and changelings gathered in Faith’s backyard, their eyes were like a sea of colors, all focused on her before flitting away and shifting nervously. And why not? She was the new therapist, the new helper.
She rustled her wings. They must all be wondering what I have in mind, she mused. And what the point of all the easels, supplies, and canvases are. Her eyes flickered from face to face, taking note of which belonged to villagers and which were visitors—ponies who came off the beaten path to find this strange village where all who sought help were welcome.
Aside from her fellow villagers, there were some she recognized among the visitors, like Snow Flurry and Sleet, that couple with the darling little fillies. They seemed to have recovered well enough from that scare on the Long Night and were ready to tackle whatever brought them from the comforts of pony society to seek Caretaker help. The others of their like, she didn’t know by name, but sight. Each had been in Respite since that night, and just as curious to see Trade Day.
But then there were the villagers. Some older, just a few years her senior, others closer to her parents or Queen Euphoria and Cool Breeze. They were changeling and pony alike, faces she remembered smiling at her every day she passed them by on the dirt paths. But one among them all drew her eye. She’d known that periwinkle coat, purple and white mane, and golden eyes since long before her lips could form proper words.
Altocumulous? She tilted her head. What in love’s name was he doing here? Shouldn’t he be off monitoring his weather bits and bobs to keep an eye out for those summer storms? This wasn’t Cloudsdale, this was Neighagara Forest—right by the coast! Those storms could roll in from the sea anytime.
Her cousin met her gaze for a second, blinking impassively. Only her years of practice reading him revealed the slightest little twitch at the corner of his eyes, right before his left wing shifted and he glanced at the canvas before him like it wasn’t blank. Avoidance. His usual tactic.
Before she could think to go to him and try to pull the details out, Faith stepped forward with a bright smile on her well-polished face. “Good morning everyone,” she greeted, pausing politely to allow a rumbling group reply in turn. “Thank you all for coming, I’m certainly glad to see all of my usual patients with us today, as well as newcomers.” The changeling nodded politely to Snow Flurry, Sleet, and a few of the villagers. Sure Stroke caught a flash of pink as her tongue flicked to taste the air, her face not betraying the slightest hint of anything other than sincerity. “Before we begin, I would like to take this time to remind you, and inform our newcomers, that it’s perfectly natural to feel scared or uncomfortable discussing and tackling our personal issues, especially when first confronting them or bringing them to others for help. However, none here will think of you any less for having them. Some of you have been hurt, some suffer anxieties, some a simple longing for someone or something they no longer have.”
Faith’s expression shifted ever so slightly. Her jaw set firm, a look Sure Stroke recognized from many times on the receiving end of that stern gaze. “If there is one thing I will tell you all, it’s that you’re not weak,” she said, annunciating each syllable so there could be no misunderstanding. “Whatever feelings you have, rooted in problems big or small, do not make us weak. They make us pony and changeling alike, they are a part of our being. My apprentice and I—” she gestured to Sure Stroke “—will help in any way we can, we will lend an ear or shoulder to cry on when needed, we will comfort, we will be firm when necessary. But we won’t allow you to think yourselves weak or foalish or nymphlike for being here.” A smile flitted across her face. “In fact, by admitting that you need help, you’ve taken the first step to being stronger than you’ve ever known in your lives.”
It was like she’d cast a spell on the crowd, like each word was laced with love and a hint of the charm prowess she’d inherited from her father, though Sure Stroke knew better than to suspect the latter. Each pony and changeling’s ears perked up, they stood a little taller, and looked around, no longer shifting about, but with a certain curious, supportive light.
Propriety prevented Sure Stroke from humming her approval or reaching for her notebook. Faith had turned a yard full of nervous patients into a support group in a matter of moments. All because she tasted the slightest hint of nerves or shame.
Like watching a master cloudsculptor at work.
Faith turned to catch her eye. “Sure Stroke will now explain what we’ll be doing today,” she announced, then gestured for the pegasus to step forward. “Dear, if you don’t mind?”
“Of course.” Sure Stroke gave a little nod to her mentor as she stepped forward to speak to her patients. Well, their patients, now. She cleared her throat, then continued on, “Hello, everyone. I’m Sure Stroke, and this is my first day working as Faith’s apprentice. Today, Faith and I would like to try something a little bit different with you all. Something that’s helped me overcome a lot of my own issues with shyness, sadness, and my old fear of our changeling friends’ fangs.” A fond smile flitted across her face. “In fact, there was this one little nymph who scared the feathers off of me so bad in the forest while playing hide and seek, I ended up scraping myself up when I tried to run from him. You’ll be happy to know that not only have I gotten over my fears, but, as my fellow villagers know, I’ve been dating him for the past two years.”
Sure Stroke allowed a moment’s pause so the newcomers could appreciate the weight of her words. She wasn’t disappointed. Their eyes widened and ears twitching, she watched as Snow Flurry and Sleet shared looks and mouthed his very name. The villagers, meanwhile, gave fond smiles and chuckled.
As if answering them personally, she nodded. “Yes, my handsome, brilliant Aspire scared me so back then,” she said, closing her eyes to savor those memories. How silly she seemed, looking back. With a contented sigh, she opened her eyes to resume her speech. “But to help myself get through my fear of Aspire, his sister, my changeling friends, and their fangs, I did what felt comfortable to me—I sketched my fears.” She spread her wings wide to gesture to the easels and canvases set out before them. “So, today, Faith and I aren’t going to ask you to tell us what you’re afraid of, what’s hurting you, or what you miss. We would like you to paint. Paint to your heart’s content.”
In the back, an older stallion tilted his head. “What’re we paintin’?” he drawled in a vaguely Ponyville accent. “Whatever’s both’rin’ us?”
“If you want, you may,” Sure Stroke replied. “But I’d rather you paint something that speaks to you. Paint whatever it is you feel. In short, sir—”
“Apple Crisp, ma’am,” he rumbled.
She smiled back at him. “Well then, Mr. Crisp, I’d like you to paint your heart for me. Not your literal one,” she said before Altocumulous could raise his hoof, earning a wry look in return. “No, not that. Paint whatever your heart tells you. And Faith and I will do the same, and we’ll share toward the end. Sound good?”
The group exchanged looks, some curious, some interested, a few with a hint of lingering hesitation or doubt. But slowly, one by one, they each selected an easel and took up their respective brushes, and set to work.
Alto seemed to linger a bit longer, his wings rustling and tail lashing nervously, despite that look of feigned nonchalance pasted upon his face. Their eyes met, his gaze impassive save for that little tell. After several tense seconds, his eyes flitted toward the last remaining easel. He shuffled over, his head bowed and ears drooping as he moved.
It took all of Sure Stroke’s self-control not to walk right over and pull him aside. But she stayed strong. We wanted to do this as a group, she reminded herself. Pulling him aside in front of everyone would do more to hurt him than help, and possibly the others as well if they saw me doing so this early on.
She’d make herself out to be a busybody and lose their trust, right after Faith had so carefully earned it for her.
There would be time later. After he painted with the rest, if he chose. He’d come here for a reason, and Sure Stroke would respect that. He came to see her as a patient, not as cousins, so she would treat him as any other.
Sure Stroke turned and stepped over to the pair of easels she and Faith had set up at the front of their group, turned so they could easily peek around the sides and check on everyone’s progress. With a smile and a hum, she took up her brush and cast a glance over at Faith, hopeful that she’d done well.
Her mentor smiled back, offering a slight nod as she took up her own brush and floated her paints up to bear in the deep green glow of her magic. “Well done,” she praised softly. “I especially liked the bit about painting their heart.”
The young mare felt her cheeks color. “I was just trying to motivate them to share whatever they felt.”
“You did perfectly, dear. A natural if I’ve ever seen one.” Faith eyed the canvas before her, a rueful smile spreading across her cheeks. “Let’s see if I still remember how to handle a brush. I haven’t painted anything but dishes since I was a nymph.”
Stifling a laugh, Sure Stroke shook her head and turned to face her own canvas, gazing at it as her mind’s eye summoned forth the perfect image for her to bring to life today.
Aspire’s face floated to view. But with him, herself. A moment together, peaceful and quiet. The chance to wrap a wing around his shoulders while he leaned in to nuzzle her bared cheek, contented smiles playing upon their lips.
Yes, she decided, dipping her brush into the black paint. That’s exactly what I feel in my heart right now.
Sure Stroke smiled and drew back to survey her work, wiping a bead of sweat from her brow as the noontime Sun bathed her in its warmth. Without cloud cover, Respite could get as humid as the Cumulonimbus District during storm production. Especially during the summer, considering the lake and Neighagara Forest’s dense foliage. But her focus was on that lovely picture she’d painted.
It was an image she knew well from their many times alone together. Aspire, giving that soft smile with a hint of underlying smugness and possessiveness as he let her wrap a wing around her shoulders and leaned in to nuzzle her bared cheek, right by the corner of her mouth. Their eyes both closed as they savored the chance to lay together and just enjoy one another’s company.
She allowed herself a fond sigh and a smile mirroring the one she’d painted, then set down her brush. “All right, everyone!” she called, trotting around her easel to address the group. “Brushes down! Faith and I are going to come around to see how you all made out!”
As she and Faith moved to check on their work, Sure Stroke let her eyes flit about from patient to patient, watching for any signs of discomfort or nerves. A few drooping ears here, a bit of a wince or sheepish smile and rub at the back of the mane there, nothing she hadn’t really expected. Amateur artists tended to regard their work as embarrassing. Especially when sharing.
Nothing unexpected, that was, until she noticed Altocumulus and Sleet.
Both pegasi were shifty, and not just in the amateur artist sense. Her cousin’s ears stood erect, his wings twitching at odd intervals as he gazed almost longingly at at the canvas. Longing after whatever image it was he’d crafted. Sleet, on the other hoof, was another matter entirely.
The poor mare’s eyes were downcast, her ears splayed, and wings drooping low. Snow Flurry had come over to throw a wing over her shoulders and had leaned down to nuzzle and whisper in her ear. Words of comfort and support, no doubt, she gleaned from the worried look upon Snow Flurry’s face.
Fighting to keep a frown off her face, Sure Stroke stole a glance in Faith’s direction, her eyes passing over images of loved ones, scenery, old homes, and—she had to wince—a black night and moon without the familiar shadow of a mare. She found her mentor praising the elderly stallion for a rather admirable attempt at drawing a bluejay, a smile creasing his wrinkled face as a tear rolled down his cheeks. She could see his lips moving, forming mumbled words she couldn’t quite make out. A few of the others had even wandered over to offer their own kind words.
Which left Altocumulus and Sleet to her.
Sure Stroke took a deep breath and held it a moment. She would start with Sleet first. That way Altocumulus wouldn’t clam up and get huffy at her for pestering him when she had others to worry about, or some nonsense, as he was so wont to do.
Affixing a smile to her face, Sure Stroke put a happy little bounce in her step. “How did we do, ladies?” she called as she drew near. The young mare came to a stop a few steps from the couple, a respectful distance, she hoped.
Snow Flurry looked up and offered a half smile in return. “Oh, I think we did all right,” she replied, before turning to nuzzle Sleet again. “Sleet painted a lovely picture that sparked a few memories of some things.” Her smile faltered a touch as she tightened her wing’s embrace. “But that’s why we’re here! Isn’t it, Sleety?”
Her head bowed so her icy blue eyes were hidden behind her bangs, Sleet gave a weak smile of her own and mumbled something unintelligible under her breath. Either embarrassment or shame colored her cheeks a dusty pink. Judging by the little flick of her tail and telltale show of wings itching to unfurl to cover her face, Sure Stroke would put good bits on the former.
“May I see?” she asked with a little gesture toward the canvas.
Sleet’s wings did unfurl just a little at that. But she nodded all the same. “It’s not …” she trailed off, her voice breaking.
Sure Stroke stepped closer and placed a gentle hoof on her shoulder. “Neither Faith nor I expect you to give us a masterpiece, Sleet,” she said softly. “This is just an exercise to give you an outlet for your feelings. Okay?”
A shaking breath, then another nod. The mare’s head dipped lower. “It’s not just that,” Sleet whispered. “It just … hurts.”
Ears twitching, Sure Stroke glanced up at Snow Flurry to find her face a mask of mixed pain and concern for her wife. A pang shot through her chest. What had Sleet endured to pain both of them in such a way? Curiosity and worry gripped her chest like an icy claw. She licked her lips and turned to gaze at the canvas, her hoof still resting upon the mare’s shoulder as she took in her work.
It was indeed an amateur’s work. Splotches of color and running paint stained the canvas here and there, clumsy lines, the work of an untrained or uncertain hoof, came together to form the image of a wooden object painted sky blue. There were four legs, each connected to another by a supporting piece, holding up a half-circle basket with cloud cushions and a fluffy blanket set beneath a mobile in mid spin, a storm cloud, a rainbow, and a trio of Wonderbolts hung over the empty cradle.
Then she saw the name stitched in silver into the hoof-made blanket in elegant, flowing cursive: Cold Front.
They weren’t supposed to be a family of four. They were meant to be a family of five or six.
“He was a beautiful colt,” Sleet whispered. She raised her head, meeting Sure Stroke’s gaze with tear-filled eyes. “He had his father’s eyes, his jaw.” Her bottom lip began to quiver, tears rolled freely down those snow-white cheeks. “We lost Warm Front just a few months into pregnancy. An accident at the weather factory last year. And little Cold … was mine!” Her voice broke. She sat back on her haunches and covered her face with her hooves and wings, unabashedly sobbing at the memory.
Snow Flurry was at her side immediately, wrapping both hoof and wing around her wife, nuzzling her mane. “It’s okay, Sleet,” she whispered, fighting back tears of her own. “They’re together, honey. They’re flying together, happy as can be. Warmy’s chasing after Cold Front in the sky beyond.”
Sure Stroke’s heart broke for them. Two losses in such a short time, two wives missing their husband and a mother grieving over the loss of her baby colt. A pain she simply couldn’t imagine—and desperately didn’t wish on anyone.
There was only one thing to do.
She turned away from the painting and wrapped her hooves around the couple, unfurling her wings to offer a second layer of soft downy embrace. Even as she closed her eyes and tightened her hug on Sleet, the image of that empty cradle was there. Haunting her just as it had these poor mares.
It was then that Snow Flurry’s control broke. She sat down with her wife, burying her face in that snowy white mane as her body wracked with sobs, her hooves clinging desperately to Sleet, as if to assure herself they were still together.
That pain in Sure Stroke’s heart spread to fill her chest. Holding both mares tight, she sat with them, cracking open an eye to check on Altocumulus. A small measure of relief came when she saw Faith giving her an approving nod, then moved to speak with her cousin, her eyes widening and a smile spreading across her features at the image he’d crafted.
Thank love.
Her talk with Altocumulus could wait until next time. For now, there were two mares who needed someone.
If there was one thing Esalen had learned quickly while volunteering her time in Caress’s clinic, is that there was never really an end to studying or diagrams.
Dear Morrigan, was there ever.
As she and Toola entered the clinic, offering bright smiles and nods of greeting to a middle aged couple who’d come to the village just before that mess during the Summer Sun Celebration—a pair of walk-ins, if she recalled the schedule—and stepped through the door leading into the massage room and Caress’s office, Esalen found herself reacquainted with that reality in earnest.
Caress’s students stopped in mid step, their eyes wide. “What,” Toola whispered breathily, “in the name of love?”
A sentiment which, Esalen had to admit, truly fit the scene before their very eyes.
The actual clinic itself was less a formal building, more the changeling’s old home, repurposed into a fully-functional clinic after she’d moved in with Queen Euphoria and Cool Breeze. Caress’s office was less an actual office, more a little side room she’d repurposed almost haphazardly to suit her own needs. It was maybe half the size of one of their shared room back home, with a single window to allow sunlight to filter in, a wooden desk which bore several pictures of herself with the Queen’s entourage—as well as several of individual members —a stacked paper tray where client information and billing were set, and a chalkboard calendar she’d purchased during a visit to Canterlot hung for easy editing and viewing. Hanging on the wall were certifications and diplomas from the Royal Canterlot University School of Medicine and University of Manehattan Therapeutic College. This was all quite normal.
What wasn’t was the scattering of anatomy diagrams, all focused on the muscular and skeletal systems of each of the three pony races and a specialized changeling model, pinned to the wall outside the office, and a few new pod seats and tables set aside for reasons neither quite new.
“Are those my eager little pupils I hear?” Caress’s dulcet tones carried through the air like sweet music. The changeling strode out of one of the recently added rooms, unused as of yet, a box of pins held aloft by the verdant glow of her magic floating along in her wake. Beaming, she nodded toward the diagram-laden wall. “What do you think, girls?”
“I think I must have somehow missed the sheer volume of your diagram collection,” Esalen deadpanned. “Where in Morrigan’s name did you get all this?”
Wrinkling her snout, Caress glanced between her and the diagrams, and back again. “Those old things? I’ve had them forever. You used to look at them when you two visited, you silly things!” She tilted her head, a hint of incredulous mirth showing in her eyes. “Surely you didn’t forget.”
That many? Really? Blinking, Esalen turned her sugar pink eyes upon the mass of diagrams covering the wall. Covering it? There wasn’t a hair’s breadth between any one of the posters and its brethren. They had taken that wall over like a mass of fungus or rot!
Still, had they really gone through that many over the years? Time did fly.
“I guess I never quite realized we’d gone through so many over the years.” Her keen eyes flitted over the diagrams, Esalen had to furrow her brows. Were there really so many nerves clustered around a unicorn’s horn? By love, it was a wonder Prim didn’t get migraines! Or did she just never complain because Caress had some secret cure method Esalen’s grandfather, Beguile, had taught her?
With each passing second, Esalen found herself wondering more and more what she’d forgotten about the different muscles and nerves of pony and changeling bodies. Slowly, a sense of doubt began to creep into her chest. An uncertain flick of her tongue earned her a sample of the familiar, unpleasant taste of Toola’s own nerves—stale bread and moldy cheese, sticking to the tip of her tongue and all over the roof of her mouth. Utterly nasty!
Laughing, Caress trotted over and patted her shoulder. “Oh, don’t worry your silly heads! I don’t expect you to memorize every muscle,” she said, nodding to the diagrams. “This is to help familiarize yourselves with which muscles may or may not correspond to pain in certain areas, it’ll help you remember quicker then if I just had you stare at them for hours on end and tried to throw you out on your own to help a patient.”
“Oh?” Toola asked. A trickle of relief seemed to flow into her chest, evident in how her ears began to perk. “Then what’s all this … redecorating?”
“A little something I was thinking about leading up to trade day.” Caress gestured between the diagrams and the setup with the pod seats and tables. “When Beguile sent me off to school so I could get my actual licensing and certifications taken care of, each of the clinics and hospitals I did my clinical rotations at had these little areas set up for therapists and patients. Though, it was less out in the open, more in the actual massage rooms.” She paused and gave a little shrug before adding, “They had a bigger setup. Anyway, we’d take the time to point out the muscle and nerves for our patients, explaining everything we’d diagnosed from what they described. Our mentors would listen in all the while and chip in if they felt it necessary. Or if we were entirely off-base.”
An interesting notion. Esalen took a moment to consider it, idly chewing on the inside of her cheek. It certainly couldn’t hurt. Communicating what they felt was the cause of a patient’s pain or discomfort had been Caress’s practice along as she’d watched, and having the chance to do so before her mentor could serve as a bit of a safety net.
Though there was also the worry of botching an entire assessment. Enough so that either Caress stepped in and took it over before the patient left, or the patient grew skittish after a series of corrections and didn’t give it a chance.
Caress’s hoof touched her shoulder. “Relax, Esalen,” she said softly. “I’m not throwing you to the timberwolves. I’m going to be with you every step of the way, just like your grandfather was for me.” With a kind smile, she added, “And don’t worry. I plan to have you both follow me along with the assessments and answering as prompted. You’ll still be doing some of the actual massage therapy work while I oversee.”
“And the same for me with yoga?” Toola asked, a hint of hesitation to her tone.
“Yoga isn’t quite my strongest point, but I definitely know a bit.” Caress moved to stand near the young gymnast and offered a supportive smile. “I’ve been able to ask around and talk with some old schoolmates with their own clinics, several of whom studied yoga quite heavily. So, they were quite happy to hear I was training a couple students of my own, and pointed me in the right direction to get you some nice mats and a few books and charts on techniques. Something to help you get started in a more formal way.”
Magenta ears stood ramrod straight. Toola beamed. “Is it all in one of the rooms?” she asked, nearly bouncing on the tips off er hooves. Her short, curly tail bounced and swished eagerly.
Laughing, Caress steppe to the side and gestured to the room on their right. “It’s all in there for you.” She barely had a chance to brace herself for the sudden leap and ironclad grip of the excitable mare before she was nuzzled and released as Toola scampered into her new yoga room to inspect the setup.
Esalen, naturally, followed along, curious to see it herself. The room seemed to be a repurposed bedroom, with most of th furniture cleared out to make room for a row of three yoga mats and another positioned at the front of the room. Nearby, there were a few foam rollers—for what purpose, Esalen didn’t know—and a ballerina’s stretching bar.
And in the middle of it all, stood a giddy little mare with a smile brighter than the sun, so excited she seemed to vibrate. A happy little squeal sounded as she began to prance in place.
“Well,” Caress drawled, her voice low enough so only Esalen could hear, “I’d say she’s thrilled. Why don’t you and I go greet our walk-ins? We can get you girls started for your first actual day.” With a wink, she added, “But first, how about I show you your setup? I think you’ll find it suits your needs.”
Ears perking, Esalen turned to follow her out of the room and into the farthest one to the left side of the clinical area. Caress opened the door to the new therapy room—Esalen’s new therapy room.
Her heart hammered in her chest like a steady drummer’s cadence. Esalen licked her fangs, biting down on her bottom lip to try to keep the smile from splitting her face, if only for a bare moment.
The room itself was set up much like Caress’s own, with a massage table at the very center, dimmed lighting which filtered in from a slatted window, and a counter set off to the side bearing a bevy of oils, lotions, and a bottle of sanitizing salve from Ladybug’s stores. Upon a little table resting in the corner, was a vanilla scented candle, its wick lit and the lazily dancing flame trailing a fine aroma to fill the room.
“I didn’t want to put too much together for your rooms,” Caress told her. “So you could personalize the setup yourselves. Think of this as my way of saying welcome to the—eep!”
Esalen caught her in such a tight embrace and lifted her straight off the ground, all her mentor could do was chitter her head off and nuzzle the younger changeling’s mane. The squeal and force of a bouncy little missile joining the hug was all that was needed to bring a bright grin and jubilant tears to the corners of her eyes.
She had her own massage room! She was really going to perform her trade!
“It’s been a lot more prevalent of late. I’m starting to worry a bit that I pulled a muscle during some of our drills after the Summer Sun Celebration.”
Frowning, Esalen trotted a slow circle around Tailwind, her eyes flitting between each of his legs and wings in turn. He’d come in a short while ago, complaining about a sharp pain between his wing joints.
Her gaze then turned to the diagrams on the wall. Back injuries in pegasi were tricky—their natural want to fly, their connection to weather, all of it came from a sense of power and strength, which came from two places: their back and core. Having seen the pegasi of the Village Guard perform their flight drills for as long as she could remember, she had little doubt that it must’ve been unbearable long before he’d chosen to bite the bit and visit.
“Could I have you show me with some slow stretching?” she asked. With Caress watching from near her own massage room, Esalen stood before him and adopted a relaxed stance, with her hooves shoulder and hip width apart and head held high. Then, slowly, she raised her right foreleg, then extended it out to the side. “Can you try to follow along with me? Just stop if you feel any pain and tell me where it is.”
Tailwind nodded once, then began to mimic her pose. However, as he began to shift and extend his leg out, the sky blue pegasus paused, a wince marring his face and fluffy white bangs covered his eyes. “Pain,” he grunted. “Between my wings. Stabs when I try to shift.”
Esalen made a quick mental note, then motioned for him to put his hoof back on the floor. Once he’d done so, she raised the other, repeating the process. With each hoof, she made him raise and extend until he felt pain, each time it was that same spot. Even with his wings—one out, one out, both up, both fully extended—his pain stayed in that same area.
Once she’d checked his limbs, Esalen came to the part she had a feeling would earn her a flurry of curses and a pained grimace. She shifted her weight to her hind hooves and began to bend her head to the floor. “Can you bend like you’re trying to touch your forehead to the floor?”
The look Tailwind shot her suggested he’d like to do anything but, and that he’d very much rather tell her to go dunk her head in Lake Neighagara. But he bit back any commentary and did as asked, shifting his weight back just as she’d done, and drew in a deep apprehensive breath. Then he began to bend low.
The effect was almost instantaneous. Tailwind hissed and let out a pained grunt, his legs nearly buckling. “Pain!” he ground out through gritted teeth. “Shooting pain!”
“Where?” Caress asked, stepping toward them. She held up a hoof to forestall any of Esalen’s questions and offered a kind smile. “Where’s the pain, Tailwind? Can you describe it for me?”
“All down my back, shooting pain,” he said as he tried to stand up straight again, wincing all the way. “Gets to my hips, then it’s like someone is trying to wiggle a spear around.”
Humming, Caress’s gaze flitted up to the diagrams. “Shooting pain down his back, to about his hips,” she repeated. “What do you think, Esalen?”
“Er.” Esalen started, glancing toward the diagrams for help. Her eyes fell upon the three back muscles along a pegasus’s spine—spinalis dorsi, longissimus dorsi, and serratus dorsalis posterior. “I would say inflammation of one of the three dorsi muscles, possible pull, causing the other muscles to compensate for movement, leading to a strain. Er, as my initial assessment.”
“I would agree. Though I wouldn’t rule out a strain of the gluteus as well.” She nodded her approval, turning face Tailwind. “Tail, Tail, Tail, when will you learn to take things slow when you feel pain? Don’t answer. We both know that day will never come.” Gently, she patted the sheepish stallion’s shoulder and nuzzled his cheek. “Well, we can’t have one of my Phory’s favorite guards in pain at his post or running drills, now can we?”
Ducking his head, Tailwind rubbed the back of his mane. “Fleetwing had to pester me to come in the first place,” he admitted.
“Then thank Morrigan your wife is sensible.” Her piece said, Caress motioned for him to head into her massage room. “Right this way, dear. Essy, if you don’t mind, I’m going to take care of Tailwind myself since this is a back issue and we need him in the air.”
Esalen shook her head. “Not at all. Would it be okay if I watched?”
An approving glint shone in her eyes. “I think that’d be just fine. Get Toola for me, as well. She may find seeing it helpful to her own work.” Turning to Tailwind, she added, “And I think we definitely want you to do a little stretching after this. No arguments.”
Tailwind rustled his wings. “Can we have her not tie me into a pretzel?” he asked.
Laughing, Caress tussled his mane. “Only if you’re a good boy. Now, come along. Let’s get your back taken care of.”
After collecting Toola, Esalen stood by in Caress’s massage room in complete silence. She watched closely, her ears open to take in every bit of conversation, each time she advised him to breathe, if his pain worsened under her touch, if he needed a moment, everything. Constant care, repeated assurances that Tailwind was in complete control of things if he felt any level of discomfort, even as her hooves kneaded and pressed against his muscles, or rolled tiny circles to work out his stiffness.
And through it all, even as his face seemed to contort both in pain and utter bliss, Tailwind followed every word of her advice and answered to the best of his ability. Or, at least, he did. Right up until Caress had worked out the pain and rendered him a sleepy-eyed, smiling fool of a blissed-out stallion. His feathers fluffing and a low, contented hum rumbling from deep within his chest.
From cursing and wincing at every motion to happy and content with a bit of care and an expert touch.
By the time Caress tapped him on the shoulder and told him to hop off the table, Tailwind looked like a pony half a dozen years younger, and moved with grace that rivaled Toola. He bounced lightly on his hooves, beaming as the lack of pain registered with him.
“Thanks, Caress!” he said. “I should’ve come to you sooner! I could get back on duty before the shift change!”
The changeling fixed him with a look that spoke of one part amusement, one part sternness. “You’ll do no such thing until I say so, you silly stallion. Fleetwing would have my head if I even thought of letting you go galavanting off without putting you through stretches to be sure and you somehow hurt yourself worse.”
Tailwind blinked. “But—”
“Nothing.” Caress turned to Toola, nodding toward their patient. “Take him and put him through a light stretch routine, please. And you—” she returned her gaze to Tailwind and arched a brow “—speak up at the first sign of pain or I send Esalen to fetch Fleetwing. Clear?”
“Yes’m,” he replied, resigning himself without further resistance.
Esalen and Toola Roola shared matching grins, the young mare waggling her ears as she took Tailwind by his elbow and led him out of the room with an eager little swish in her tail. All the while, she chattered away about different ideas for stretches, advising him to consider adding a routine to start his day, just as she had.
At least, she’d planned to follow right up until she heard a familiar voice call out from the waiting room. “Hello? Caress? Esalen? Toola?”
Her ears twitched. Was that Vector? Wrinkling her snout, Esalen turned away from Toola and Tailwind to trot out to the waiting room, curiosity written across her face. She opened the door with a deft tug of magic, and stepped out to greet her friend. “Hey, Vector,” she said. “Sorry about the wait. We were just helping Tailwind with a bit of a pain in his back.”
Wincing, Vector ran a hoof through his teal and gray mane. “Got that bad, eh? He’d been lagging in some of our drills, but I didn’t want to be the one to say anything. New pony and all.”
Now, there was something she hadn’t expected. “You? Keeping your mouth shut?” Esalen scoffed. “By love, things are all topsy-turvy since that night, aren’t they?”
“Don’t remind me. Zephyr’s been grumbling—I mean, he always does—but he’s been grumbling about how they’ve never made us keep pace like this for so long. Usually they give a bit of a rest day or two.” Vector shrugged, rolling his shoulders as if to work out some stiffness. “Doesn’t bother me too much, but I’ll be hit with lightning if all that armor doesn’t make you stiff. Do you have any idea how heavy those helmets are?”
“I’ve never tried one on, but I can imagine it must be quite an adjustment to wear all that armor.” She cocked a brow, eying him a moment. “Just your neck and shoulders?”
He shifted a bit in place, his smile turning decidedly sheepish. “Er, well, it’s a bit … everywhere.” At the way her brows shot up, he added, “Hey! You know me, I never skimped on working out, but …”
Esalen inclined her head, giving an affirmative hum. It was true, Vector had been training for as long as she’d known him, always eager to prove he was the fastest and strongest around—thus his constant wrestling with Aspire. All in the name of someday being a guard.
But actually joining was another matter entirely, and being thrown in during a time of crisis when they were drilling and patrolling at such a torrid pace …
No wonder he was starting to feel it.
She stepped aside to allow him entry, jerking her head toward her massage room. “Come on in. I’ll let Caress know you and I talked about what was bothering you, and we’ll get you taken care of. Might as well give you a full-body one since it’s all over.”
Vector grinned a coltish grin. “You’re a lifesaver, Essy,” he said, hurrying inside, pausing only to nuzzle her cheek. “You can have all the love you want after this! By Morrigan, is this going to make tonight’s shift a breeze!”
All the love she wanted? Chuckling, the young changeling shook her head with a smile, and licked her lips. She guided him into her massage room, the happy swish of her tail and rhythmic sway of her hips a testament to her happy mood.
Their first day of the trade had gotten off to a good start indeed.
The happy chattering and chittering and laughter of little ones, foal and nymph alike, never failed to bring a fond smile to Sure Stroke’s face.
Maybe it was the attachment to her days in this very classroom, those days when two troublesome nymphs coaxed her out of her shell to come play with them and the rest of their friends. An act that sparked a beautiful friendship, and a relationship with Aspire—the more troublesome twin, if she had her say.
Or perhaps it was the frazzled look upon her love’s face and how mussed up his already messy mane was when she first pushed the door open and poked her head in to find him struggling to maintain order.
A paper ball went zipping by her nose, missing by a mere hair’s breadth. Sure Stroke blinked, her brows raising as she turned slowly to follow its arc and aim a bemused look at a pair of sheepish looking colts, one desperately biting his lips to hold back a fit of chittering mirth at the way his friend’s wings rustled nervously and ducked his head, his hoof still outstretched to follow his throw.
Aspire, meanwhile, looked seconds from hissing at the whole group. “Cordial! Put that straw down right now and stop shooting spitballs at Oleander!” His head snapped over to Hail and Sunshower, who were giggling and whispering encouragement to their new friend. “You two, stop encouraging him to cause—ack!—Pumpernickel, I told you to wait until lunch hour to get your lunch bag! By love, you all! Mister Abacus only left a minute ago! Are you trying to get me in trouble?”
The chittering, tittering mirth which came in reply almost made Sure Stroke chortle. It was no secret that Aspire had been, and still quite was, the worst of their age group, especially among the younglings. In some twisted, almost karmic way, they seemed to look up to him.
Which, naturally, meant they had to tease and prank him just as they would Queen Euphoria—the biggest fish in the proverbial pond, with Aspire being somewhere in the top five or ten, so to speak.
Stifling a grin, Sure Stroke leaned against the doorjamb and crossed one foreleg over the other. Her feathers fluffed merrily as she watched her boyfriend’s plight, earning a shake of her head when she saw him literally stomp over to Cordial Tidings and snatch the straw out of his mouth after a spitball struck him in the nose.
“You’ll be staying in with me at recess, little nymph,” Aspire said, his icy tone enough to silence all merriment and earn a wince from Cordial and the fillies. A hint of satisfaction flashed across his face, his eyes flitted to the rest of the class. “If the rest of you don’t think I’ll keep the entire class in during recess hour too, think again,” he continued. “Tricks and pranks are fine and good, but even Esalen and I knew better than to cause trouble during class. Especially when Mister Abacus told us to stop and listen. I expect the same courtesy from each of you after the class bell rings. Clear?”
It was like magic. The class went from wild and raucous to sheepish and contrite within seconds, each foal and nymph dropping their gaze to their desk, mumbling an apology. But, Sure Stroke noticed, not without a hint of a gleam in several nymphs’ eyes. They’d caught onto something.
And so had she. Oh, honey, she thought, chuckling and shaking her head. You just turned it into a game. You silly changeling, you know better … or is that on purpose?
He did love his tricks. Who was to say this wasn’t another? As a matter of fact, she’d put good bits on it being an invitation so he could have an excuse to teach them a lesson!
She’d have to send word to Enticier. He’d chitter so hard, they’d be able to hear it from Paradise.
It was at that moment, someone noticed her presence. It came with a flash of pink, a nymph of long sea green mane tied into an old style braid flicked his forked tongue testing the air, no doubt to make sure his teacher wasn’t too furious with he and his classmates. Then, suddenly, his ears twitched. His head snapped around, sending his braid whipping about, and his eyes widened. A grin began to split his muzzle. “Miss Doodle!” he cried.
As soon as he did, all heads, Aspire’s included, turned toward her. His sky blue eyes lit up, all trace of ire gone, and a bright smile crossed his face.
And his class began chattering excitedly once again, the little nymphs flicking their tongues to taste the air before they all chimed in unison, “Good afternoon, Miss Doodle!”
The dam broke. Sure Stroke had to cover her mouth with a hoof to stifle a bout of tittering mirth. “Good afternoon, everyone,” she greeted in kind. Waggling her ears, she pushed off the doorjamb and sauntered into the room. “I see you’re all doing your best to make my boyfriend pull his mane out today.”
Another wave of chittering and giggling swept through the room. Aspire shot them a look, unable to hide his smile.
Then Cordial Tidings flicked out his tongue a second time, his deep purple eyes shone with mischief. “Mister Aspire and Miss Doodle are lovedrunk!” he sang. “More lovedrunk than lovedrunk can be!”
A blush filled Aspire’s cheeks and hers, the heat making her feathers fluff even as the nymphs flicked their tongues again and began to take up Cordial’s song. The foals, giggling into their hooves, joined shortly thereafter, filling the room with their excited little voices. The pair of adults could do little more than meet one another’s gaze and try to suck in their lips to hide sheepish grins.
A deep chuckle heralded their savior. Abacus stepped through the door, amusement written plain upon his face. “My, my, we get a visitor for lunch, one of my old students, and you all turn right to being little terrors to Mister Aspire, don’t you? Who ever set such an example?” he asked, mock severity dripping from his every word. The stallion’s gaze flitted between Aspire and Sure Stroke, he raised his brows. “Why, these two were just the model of good behavior in their time in my class—I can only imagine what they must think of such a lack of discipline and good manners now!”
Sure Stroke unfurled her wings, hiding her muzzle behind them. “I only drew silly things on your board one time!” she squeaked in protest. “And only because I lost a bet to Nimble and Toola!”
“So you say. But your art has a rather distinctive style and quality, dear Doodle. I’d be surprised if any in the village didn’t know it on first glance. And my blackboard was graced with it several times in your last year with me.” He arched his brow and hummed, drawing a nervous rustling of her wings before he chuckled and turned to address the class again. “Well, now that you’ve all had the chance to terrorize your elders, I think it’s time we broke for lunch.”
A chorus of whoops and gleeful chittering went up from the younglings as they each hopped out of their seats and began to rearrange their desks to form group tables. Aspire, meanwhile, trotted over to her side and nuzzled her cheek softly. “Feel like eating outside with me?” he murmured.
“You just want an excuse to get away from them so they can’t tease you anymore,” she quipped in reply.
She could feel his grin widening against her cheek. “I’ll admit that’s a small part of it, yes.” He pecked the corner of her mouth. “But at least ninety percent is a want to eat lunch beneath your old tree.”
Sure Stroke couldn’t have possibly cared less that the younglings renewed their teasing when they saw her wings unfurl and feathers fluff in proud display. How did he always know the perfect words to make her heart soar?
Teasing aside, Sure Stroke couldn’t deny there was more than just a hint of romanticism in sitting beneath her old tree to share lunch with the handsome changeling wrapped snugly under her wing. From within her lunch bag, she pulled out a pair of sandwiches and drinks for each of them—seared salmon, one of his favorites. And hers, after a bit of time to adapt her taste.
The smooth, almost sweet taste of salmon and a hint of lemon butter never failed to make a good meal. Coupled with a little cider, some of Sweet Treat’s freshly baked white chocolate macadamia nut cookies, and a piece of chocolate cake she’d hidden beneath an extra napkin to surprise him, and she could hardly go wrong.
And that grin which split his face before he caught her in a deep, sweet kiss once she revealed her little surprise was just delicious. Though not nearly so much as the way he pulled her in to nibble her ears, spurring a tingle down her spine and shuddering breath as he murmured, “If we weren’t on campus right now and I didn’t know my students were sneaking peeks out the window at us, I’d kiss you silly.”
Roses filled her cheeks. Sure Stroke turned away to hide a smile, still holding the plate in hoof. “You just delight in making me squirm don’t you?” she squeaked.
“Of course. It’s one of the joys of dating you.” Pecking her cheek, he slipped his hoof into her lunch bag to retrieve a fork. “Only one? Well, I guess this is going to make sharing fun.” Aspire grinned at how she ducked and tried to hide her face, nosing beneath her chin as he cut off a slice and guided it to her lips. “None of that, silly Doodle. How will I pester you about your first session with mom if you start hiding beneath your wings?”
“Um. Fair point.” She chewed thoughtfully, savoring the rich taste as he took a bite himself. As he ate, Sure Stroke gave him a quick summary of both her initial talk with Faith and their setup, and then the little pep talk she improvised to try to help the ponies, her patients, get a bit more comfortable sharing through art.
A praising smile played upon his lips. With a hum, he nodded, his forked tongue lashing out to lick the fork clean of the remnants of chocolate icing and flakey cake crumbs, rolling his free hoof through the air to prompt her. “Go on. Sounds like you really nailed it with them.”
“It did seem to make a few of them happy.” Her smile faltered a touch. Sure Stroke let her ears splay back. “I, um, sort of got a chance to talk to those new mares. Sleet and Snow Flurry.” A squirming feeling ran through her belly. Rustling her wings, she mumbled, “I found out the reason they came to the village. And why Sleet’s a bit …”
“Gruff?” Aspire supplied. “Wary?”
“Both, yes.” Another rustling. She bit her lip, her eyes flitting back toward the schoolhouse. Back to where little Hail and Sunshower were no doubt eating and laughing with Cordial Tidings and the rest of their new friends. Hopefully, with more new friends. Those two certainly deserved it.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a flash of pink. Aspire’s smile faltered, a concerned frown taking its place. He set the plate down and turned to face her fully. “What’s wrong, Sure Stroke?” he asked softly.
The squirming in her belly was like a bunch of wriggling snakes. Did she tell him? Faith hadn’t exactly told her specifically not to share patients’ problems around, but there was still that sense of respect. Some things really shouldn’t be shared around, and sensitive problems like losing a lover and a foal …
What could be more sensitive and painful?
Then again, Aspire was responsible for teaching and looking after little Hail and Sunshower while their mothers decided to remain in Respite. Wouldn’t it be prudent to alert him so he could keep weather eye out for any signs of stress or depression in the fillies? A bit of preventative care, from therapist to teacher.
Sure Stroke turned to meet his gaze, licking her lips nervously. “What I’m about to tell you stays between us,” she said. “Not as girlfriend and boyfriend, but as adults with trades. Therapist to teacher.”
A glint shone in his eyes. Aspire sat up a bit straighter and nodded solemnly. “I understand. Though, I may tell Abacus if it’s serious.”
“That’s perfectly fair. He probably should know as well so you can both be on the lookout for any …” she trailed off, searching for the right wording. “Any signs that they’re not coping well.”
His brows disappeared beneath his bangs. “I think I’m going to need an explanation as to what they’re supposed to be coping with,” he said. “And, of course, Abacus and I will keep it quiet. I’ll have a talk with him later, and we can figure a way out so we’re discrete. Would that make you feel better?”
Nodding slowly, she offered a weak smile. “Yes, thank you. But let’s focus less on me—”
“—And more on them,” he cut in. “Fair enough.” Aspire pecked her lips, then laid a comforting hoof upon her shoulder. “Tell me whatever you can.”
Sure Stroke’s smile grew just a little. Of course she could trust him to handle things properly. She drew in a deep breath through her nose, steeling herself a moment to unload her burden. Slowly, she began to recount the tale. How distraught the mares had been, the way Sleet seemed almost to curl inward on herself and Snow Flurry struggled to hold her own grief back, trying her very best to stay strong for her remaining love, and that painting.
Oh, her heart almost broke again just thinking of that empty cradle!
Through it all, Aspire stayed quiet, his expression pensive, only a slight frown giving away hint of his feelings. He brought a hoof to his lips, the gears behind those brilliant, sky blue eyes of his turning even as she spoke. Not once did he speak or make to cut across her. In fact, he barely did anything more but nod and hum a low, thoughtful note.
When she finished, though, Aspire closed his eyes in quiet reverence, and heaved a sigh. “I remember how broken Essy and I were when we lost our grandparents,” he murmured softly. “I can’t imagine what it must’ve been like for them to lose their father at such a young age. And their brother—by love, that just … I can’t, Sure Stroke. I wouldn’t wish that pain on anyone.”
“I don’t think any would,” Sure Stroke replied. Flicking her tail anxiously, she muttered, “I’m not necessarily asking you to foalsit them. But if you wouldn’t mind doing like you mentioned and looking after them with Abacus, I think that would help the four of them in the long run.”
“Yeah. We’ll take care of them.” Aspire opened his eyes and looked at her again. She could see the pain flashing in them, a want to find some way to protect his students. But it was gone quickly, replaced by a ghost of a smile. “The good news, at least, is that they’re not alone. They have their little friend from the Summer Sun Celebration dance.”
Her ears flicked. “Little Cordial Tidings?”
“The very same. They’ve been latched on either of his forelegs since that day. Thick as thieves, and of course he loves entertaining an audience with his antics.”
“Now who does that sound like?”
“Careful.” Aspire smirked. “I know about all the tricks you pulled on Abacus that he never figured out. You were just as bad as Essy and me after a little while, Doodle. Not to mention how Queen Euphoria never figured out that you helped distract her that day I actually got her sweet stash. She keeps a grudge.”
A shiver ran down her spine. Of all the tricks she never wanted to come back to bite her, that one in particular, was at the top of the list. “Fine, I concede,” she groused. “Just keep an eye on them. And maybe see about getting Cordial to help them make some more friends. Filly friends. No offense, but a girl always needs those.”
He shrugged. “None taken. Love knows Vector and Zephyr are like the brothers I never had. I get it. Besides—” he ran a hoof through his mane “—if there’s one thing I don’t need Cordial to pass on, it’s his disinterest in doing any of his schoolwork properly. Not to mention he doesn’t know when to cut the tricks. Say what you want about me, but I didn’t do that during Abacus’s lectures.”
“True enough. But that’s something he’ll hopefully grow out of with time.” Waggling her ears, Sure Stroke leaned in to steal a kiss. “And perhaps with the right smugling to guide him along.”
Her comment and that kiss earned a wide, toothy grin. “Are you playing on my ego?” he teased. “Because it’s working.”
Giggling, she pecked him again. “Just a little. He does seem to look up to you enough to want to play more tricks.” Before they could continue, the familiar sound of Clanger’s bell rang out across the lawn. Her ears twitching, Sure Stroke smiled. “And it looks like you get to spend a little extra time with your protégé in troublemaking.”
“That I do.” Aspire rolled his eyes, smiling fondly as he leaned in to nuzzle and kiss her nose. “See you at home after school,” he murmured as he rose and began to trot toward the schoolhouse.
Sure Stroke fluffed her feathers merrily, watching him head off, his handsome blue tail swishing and shining in the light. “I’ll be waiting.”
Not since Sure Stroke’s first days in Respite did Aspire find it so difficult to keep his eyes from constantly flitting back to another pony.
No, it wasn’t that he looked at them, worried that they were terrified of his fangs or that they’d never acclimate and accept the friendship of he or his fellow changelings. A small mercy, really, that little Hail Storm and Sunshower could be won over by promises of sweets from the best bakers in town, enough that they might open up and chat with him, and with that precocious little nymph, Cordial Tidings.
But it didn’t change what Sure Stroke had told him at lunch just a day prior.
Aspire slowly wandered about the classroom while Abacus lectured, a two-fold job his mentor gave so he could observe the flow of a lecture from a more adult perspective first-hoof, as well as offer a helpful ear should any foal or nymph find themselves lost and in need of guidance.
Well, really, it was three-part. The third came on Sure Stroke’s request, and with Abacus’s blessing when he’d learned some of the details.
Even as he paused to nudge Pumpernickel’s shoulder and fix her with a stern look, flipping her book to the proper page after muttering a light scolding to pay attention and not doodle—oh, the irony—Aspire found himself casting a quick glance across the room at the young fillies seated by their friend. They were attentive enough, that much he did appreciate greatly and hoped would rub off on Cordial, and they didn’t so much cause trouble as they did giggle and delight in the nymphs’ antics. Both had performed admirably on their algebra test, in stark contrast to Cordial, yet again, and hadn’t missed a homework assignment since joining the class.
But there was something a little off about the way they carried themselves or sat when they thought no one else was looking. Or, rather, when Aspire snuck a look out of the corner of his eye. Let it not be said that he hadn’t learned discretion in the past two years. Those handy tools he used to tease his girlfriend and catch her gaze lingering on some supplies at those Manehattan art stores were now put to good use noting each little tick, each tell in those little fillies’ posture. From the way they would let their bright little smiles falter, to their occasional lapses of attention.
As well as the way Hail Storm would sigh and let her ears droop, or Sunshowers pale yellow wings with orange-tipped feathers would rustle and let a hoof wander to the ice blue ribbon in her mane.
Aspire blinked. Had she always worn that ribbon? He paused in mid step, his sky blue eyes flitting to Hail Storm to find a matching ribbon at the end of her fluffy white locks, binding the ends together in a short tail. A style rather vaguely reminiscent of the ponies of Emerald Isle, if he recalled his books properly. Perhaps the fillies’ parents were of similar descent?
With a gentle tap of his hoof against Pumpernickel’s book and one last mutter of warning, he began to work his way around the back of the class as if to walk up their row, but stopped to watch for a few moments. Just a little longer to see whether or not it would affect their listening to Abacus’s lecture.
A chance flick of his tongue brought the taste of sadness, yes. Just as he expected.
What came with it, though, was a sudden kick of concern, like a twist of lemon and lime in the mix. Aspire turned his gaze to Cordial Tidings, his brows raising as noticed just a flash of the young nymph’s forked tongue along the edge of his mouth. Then, without lookin away from the front of the class, his tiny, hole-ridden leg was held out in silent offer of comfort.
An offer both fillies readily accepted. And as though the touch of his hoof lifted some spell, so too did it raise their spirits. The return of sweet happiness and affection nearly earned an approving hum from Aspire, though it did make Cordial look away from Abacus for a bare moment to share a small smile with his friends.
Had they told him already?
Or did he know well enough that his friends’ hearts ached but held the decency not to pry until they were ready, like a true Caretaker?
“Aspire,” Abacus called, drawing him out of his inner musings.
With a casual smile, the changeling looked up to meet his mentor’s eye. “Yes, Abacus?”
“Would you mind taking the algebra lesson again?” he offered, stepping aside to surrender the podium. “You seem to have quite the knack for the material.”
All eyes fell upon him. Oddly enough, there was a hint of relief and joy—genuine joy in the announcement.
They did seem to like his way of explaining things. A credit to so many sessions helping Vector, Zephyr, and, of course, his girlfriend.
Aspire smiled and gave a little bow of his head, trotting toward the front of the class with a confident swish of his mess tail and ears standing tall. There was plenty to be gleaned from his little observation walk, plenty to address during lunch hour or recess.
He’d start with the fillies themselves.
It took some time for Aspire to figure out how to properly broach the subject with Hail Storm and Sunshower.
Pulling them aside during lunch felt a bit unfair. Or perhaps it was more uncomfortable than unfair. For them, at least. That time was meant to be theirs, to enjoy with their friend.
Friends, Aspire amended quite happily, when he noticed Cordial Tidings nudge a young colt named Star Bolt and Flit, the other nymph who’d danced with them at the Summer Sun Celebration, and called them over to form their desks into a table and enjoy lunch together. Then came Pumpernickel, sheepishly adding her desk to the end nearest Hail, earning a round of welcomes and desk legs scraping against the floor as they were moved to accommodate the filly.
It would have to be recess hour or after school. Not exactly a winning situation either way, especially if they went scampering off as soon as the final bell rang. If there was one thing he’d learned from Sure Stroke, it was that there were few things that could catch a pegasus in air when they wanted to move.
And changeling wings weren’t built for that kind of speed. There was a reason they shifted to chase down their friends in flight.
So when Clanger’s bell sounded out to send the younglings out to the playground and all the students hurried toward the door, the young nymph in Aspire blew the most obnoxious raspberry at what a stuffy adult he’d grown into as he called to them, “Hail Storm, Sunshower?”
He saw two sets of ears perk up, one dusty blue, the other pale yellow. They turned to meet his eye, curiosity written plain upon their faces.
Aspire offered a small smile and tilted his head toward the window, out to where Sure Stroke’s old tree stood. “Would you mind taking a walk with me? I have a couple questions about your homework.”
The changeling didn’t need to flick his tongue to realize he should’ve chosen better wording. The twitch in their ears and vanishing smiles did enough to tell him so, as did the nervous rustle of their little wings.
With a mental kick to his backside, Aspire hurriedly added, “Nothing wrong. Just a question or two about the way you both learned a couple steps. I haven’t seen them done quite like this, so I’m a little curious.”
Hail Storm bit her lip and shared a look with her sister, their faces creased with a touch of awkwardness. Then she turned her gaze to Cordial Tidings.
The young nymph smiled brightly beneath his cherry red bangs. He leaned in to mutter something to both fillies, his voice low so Aspire couldn’t hear a peep, just watch as the pair relaxed their wings and allowed tiny smiles back onto their faces. Then his red eyes flitted to Aspire, flashing with … warning?
Aspire blinked and very nearly faltered. For a moment, he saw Esalen and himself standing beside the little nymph, and Sure Stroke with the fillies. Had they been so protective too?
Who was he kidding? Of course they had. Sure Stroke was their Doodle, no one was allowed to scare or tease her without their leave.
To his relief, the fillies turned to face him again, their smiles back in place, even as Cordial slipped out the door to follow Flit out to the playground.
“Sure, Mister Aspire,” Sunshower replied.
Hail Storm rustled her wings a little. “We didn’t realize there was a Respite way for math.” Her cheeks coloring, she ducked her head and added, “There seems to be a Respite way for a lot of things.”
Oh, we’re really through the looking glass here, Aspire mused. With a merry waggle of his ears, he trotted to their side and gestured to the door with a little wave of his hoof. “After you, ladies,” he said jovially. “I think we could all use a little sun.”
The instant they stepped through the doorway and Aspire felt warm sunlight upon his carapace, unfiltered by the window, he let his eyes flutter shut and let a deep purr of approval rumble within his chest, earning quizzical looks from Hail Storm and Sunshower.
Rather than bluster, he simply grinned. “You’ll notice changelings tend to act a little like cats sometimes,” he joked. “My girlfriend likes to make that joke sometimes when my sister or I start purring when winter ends and we don’t feel like our carapace is going to crack in the cold.”
Sunshower snorted. “What?” she asked, goggling at him. “You’re kidding!”
Aspire turned slowly and fixed her with his most serious look. “Does this look like the face of a changeling who’d lie about such a thing?” he asked gravely. “You’ll learn if you’re around for winter. All your classmates and I will be wrapped in so many layers, you’ll think it’s an invasion of fluff.” Casting a conspiratorial wink, he added, “A good snowball is a great way to get even for any tricks, but don’t tell anyone you heard that from me or I’ll get it from every Caretaker in the village!”
The fillies giggled and tried to hide their smiles behind their wings, but the sweet, cotton-candy fluff of their mirth still danced upon the tip of his tongue.
“Cordy didn’t tell us that,” Hail Storm said, her eyes alight. “But he was awful quick to carry on about our feathers fluffing and ruffling the other day.”
Oh, was that ever familiar? “Well, keep that one between us. Think of it as some friendly advice for a little winter time fun.”
“Maybe. But he’s been nice.”
“Teasing us about whether or not we could dance until he and Flit got us into that circle, but nice,” Sunshower added. She flicked her tail, glancing up at Aspire with a tiny frown. Her eyes shone with something. Dawning comprehension. She stopped in mid step. “You didn’t call us out about math, did you, Mister Aspire?”
He had to give her that one. “No, I didn’t,” Aspire admitted with a nod. “I was actually wondering how you two were doing since coming to the village.” Pausing in his walk, he turned to look back at them, his eyes flitting between the fillies. “If you don’t mind, of course. I do apologize for misleading you, but I didn’t want to make a big production of things in front of the class.”
Sunshower’s wings rustled nervously yet again. In her eyes, he could almost see a want to search out her friends, but the filly stood her ground. “Okay,” she muttered softly. She took another couple of steps, returning to his side. “What did you want to know?”
“Nothing too much, really. Call it a bit of teacher’s curiosity, mixed with growing up in the village greeter’s house.” Aspire resumed his walk, steering toward the old tree, his design two-fold—they could see their friends and be seen in turn, a more subtle means of keeping things familiar for them. He would’ve wanted that for Sure Stroke during her early days.
As they reached his girlfriend’s old doodling tree, he allowed himself a fond little smile at those old memories and made to sit down, gesturing for them to join him as he said, “You seem to have made a nice little group of friends.”
“They’ve certainly helped,” Hail Storm replied. She sat down beside Sunshower and leaned back against the tree trunk. “Cordial Tidings and Flit have been hanging around a lot since the dance, though Cordy a little more so.” The corners of her mouth twitched. “He’s funny. Never seems happy unless we’re laughing at one of his jokes or trying to chase him around because of one.”
Sunshower groaned and threw her hooves over her face. “Don’t remind me! I’m still supposed to be mad at him over how he got us chasing him all over town, while he just sat in Sweet Treat’s shop, happy as can be, and ate cake while watching through a window!”
Aspire couldn’t help but snort. “Who did he shapeshift into?”
“Pumpernickel,” the fillies deadpanned.
Chittering, he shook his head. Clever nymph. Though, that does help explain why Façade’s grade book shows him at top of the class for his assignments. Perhaps a student who needed the right motivation. Interesting, indeed. “Any idea why he might have decided to pull such a gr—terrible trick,” he hastily amended as he caught the matching looks of indignation they shot him, looks ruined by the smiles tugging at their lips.
Through the looking glass, indeed.
“No,” Hail Storm replied sweetly. “Because the reason the little zap beetle gave us is a complete load of cloud fluff.”
Her sister flicked her pale orange tail across the grass. “That is being very generous about it.”
A load of cloud fluff? Aspire arched a brow, humming a low note. Now there was a fun turn of phrase found only in true Cloudsdale pegasi. “I’m almost afraid to ask. But I will. What did he say?”
They rolled their eyes in near perfect unison and chanted, “You silly featherbeds looked soooooooooo dull and dreary just staring out the window and sighing! I had to do something!”
It took every ounce of his self-control not to grin and cackle. Aspire fought hard to keep his expression neutral, betrayed only by the slightest glint in his eyes. One his closest friends and girlfriend would’ve picked out in an instant, but the little fillies?
Not so much.
“Well,” he said slowly, “I suppose it’s only fair to ask if you had fun in the end?”
Hail Storm wrinkled her snout and looked down at the ground. “Yes,” she replied, a hint of grudging to her tone. “After he spent a good ten minutes hiding behind Peppermint and bribed us with cake if we agreed not to smack him.”
“And did you?”
“You’re the one who introduced us to her cakes, Mister Aspire.” The little filly arched a snowy white brow. “You already know the answer to that.”
Of course he did. But it was only polite he ask. Chuckling and shaking his head, Aspire turned to Sunshower, chancing a quick flick of his tongue to taste fondness and the distinct taste of, interestingly enough, chocolate. Her happiness. Another flick yielded Hail’s, her own white chocolate.
How interesting.
“So, you both get along with Cordial quite well.” Aspire paused to raise a hoof. “Random tricks aside.
Sunshower shrugged. “The tricks are fine. I don’t mind them.”
“Even if he is a little pain in the flank when he sets his mind to it. Him and Flit both, the little jerks,” Hail added, her smile robbed the words of any real heat. “They’ve …” she trialed off and bit her lip, her eyes flitting toward her sister for a bare second.
In that single second, Aspire timed a flick of his tongue to taste it, and promptly fought off the urge to retch. There it was, just as he knew, from Sure Stroke, it would be. Sadness. A deep, deep ocean of it, laying just beneath the surface of both fillies, ready to drown them in a tidal wave before they could think to take flight for safety.
Cordial Tidings must have noticed too. Was that why he’d looked at Aspire with such heat in his eyes? Like he was warning him away from being the catalyst for a tumble into that dark chasm?
“They’ve really helped,” Sunshower finished for her sister. “Flit, too. Even Pumpernickel, those Mint twins and Maple and his boyfriend, and Sweet Treat and Abacus.” Pausing a moment, she turned to meet Aspire’s gaze, and offered a weak little smile. “We really owe you and Miss Sure Stroke for that, don’t we?”
“You don’t owe us anything,” Aspire replied with a firm shake of his head. “We’re happy to help any who come to Respite seeking help. Whatever the reason. And, personally—” He smiled and leaned back with a sigh, relaxing against the tree like he had with Sure Stroke just a couple days prior “—I think hearing you’ve made friends is enough to make us happy. I’m sure she’ll be thrilled, too.”
“She was nice. Our moms seem to like her.”
“They like her a lot from what I can tell,” Hail corrected. The filly tilted her head and fixed him with a quizzical look. “Why the interest, though? Is this a thing everypony—”
“One,” Sunshower corrected almost tiredly. “You know Cordy will start up if we don’t say ‘one.’”
“Then I’ll smack him when I catch him! Anyway, is this something done for everypony who comes to the village?
Why?
Well, that was a simple enough question to answer. Aspire took a deep breath and looked out across the playground, his smile fading just slightly. “In a way, yes,” he admitted after a moment’s silence. “But for me, no. That’s not why I’m interested. Well, not the main reason, I should say.”
The fillies stared blankly, perplexed by his wording. Or, rather, how evasive it was, he realized after a moment’s thought. A look he’d grown quite fond of seeing upon another young pegasus’s face over the years, admittedly.
It was little Sunshower who broke the silence. “Then, what’s the big reason if not that?” she asked, tilting her head to the opposite side.
Again, he saw Sure Stroke sitting with them, a hint of amused irritation showing in her deep blue eyes as she drew in a deep breath through her nose and puffed up her cheeks at him in that adorable little way she always did. A sign that he’d better give her a straight answer, or he’d better be ready for a wing to be swung at his head and begin his preventative measures.
By love, did he miss when they were all smaller, when they did nothing but go to class and play all day.
With a heavy, fond sigh, Aspire closed his eyes. “Because I remember a little filly who came here, scared out of her wits and nervous to even be around me because of what I was, especially when she got a look at my fangs,” he said softly. “And you both remind me a lot about her. So, call it a soft spot of mine.”
“Miss Sure Stroke, right?” Hail Storm asked. “Cordy and Flit told us about how scared she was when she first moved here, and she said something about it before the dance. And then you started dating.”
“Oh, there was a lot that happened before and during that.” He chuckled. “I nearly made things worse, a lot worse, in fact. If not for her giving me a second chance, I wonder if she and her family would’ve stayed, let alone if we’d have started seeing each other.” Aspire cracked open an eye and gave them a sidelong smile. “My sister was ready to throttle me for that one. Though, come to think of it, that describes her, Doodle, and most of my friends any day ending in a ‘y.’ So maybe not a great metric.”
“Doodle?” they asked in stereo, wrinkling their snouts.
Aspire chittered. “Our little nickname for Sure Stroke,” he explained. “I called her by it in front of you that first night, remember? She used to pretend she hated it when it’s not just us together.” His eyelid drooped, he fixed them with a crooked smirk. “Kind of like how you two pulled faces when you told me Cordial calls you featherheads, actually.”
Sucking in their lips, the fillies’ wings unfurled to hide their faces. Or, more to the point, their sheepish grins.
“Don’t tell him!” Sunshower squeaked.
“He’ll only get worse if he knows!” Hail put in.
Of course he would. He was a changeling, after all. Then again, there was little doubt he already knew.
Aspire had caught him flicking his tongue or running it along his lips plenty of times today alone. If he didn’t, Aspire would eat rotten fish and wash it down with lemon juice.
Two options lay before him—on one hoof, he could let them go on unknowing their friends’ empathic tasting. On the other, Sure Stroke would almost surely tell her if she were in his place.
Although, somewhere in the middle, he had to wonder if Cordial Tidings and Flit might plan to broach the subject themselves, easing them into things like he and Esalen had done with Sure Stroke two and a half years prior. Perhaps that was the better idea.
“Well, I certainly won’t give away any secrets,” Aspire said solemnly. “On one condition.” Their eyes wide, he gestured toward them with a little wave of his hoof. “If you two have any questions you aren’t sure you feel comfortable asking your friends, come see Abacus or me. Or Sure Stroke would probably love to help, since she’s been in your horseshoes before, and I’d say Queen Euphoria and Cool Breeze if you have any big ones we can’t answer for you.” Smiling warmly, he turned to face them fully, looking straight into their eyes. He wouldn’t make it a deal. Free advice and setting up a pair of little fillies in need to talk with the right villagers was hardly subject to deals. “Can you do that for me?”
Hail Storm and Sunshine turned to share a look, locking in silent conversation. Apprehension gripped Aspire’s chest like a snake coiling a mouse. Had he pushed a little too much?
It was a small mercy when they turned to face him again, small, nervous smiles gracing their lips. “You and Miss Sure Stroke did help us feel welcome at the dance, Mister Aspire,” Hail said first. “If not for the two of you, I don’t know if we’d have gone over to have cake and met Cordy and Flit.”
“And it would be nice to talk to somepony—someone who’s gone through this.” Sunshower rustled her wings, adding, “And the same teacher who helped her get through it all.”
Aspire managed to disguise his relieved sigh behind a smile and a little roll of his shoulders. “Thank you, girls. Now—” he cast a meaningful look out at the playground, where Cordial Tidings was galloping away from the others as fast as his legs could carry him, cackling his head off “—it looks to me like your classmates are playing Catch Clever Clover, and Cordy’s it.” His smile turned vulpine and showed teeth. “Why don’t you two go see if you can’t get even for that trick he pulled?”
The wicked gleam in their eyes was matched only by their smiles. The fillies all but leapt to their hooves, flaring their wings out wide before taking to the sky.
“Just you watch us!” Hail Storm called back over her shoulder as they shot off like a pair of arrows from crossbows, aimed directly at their unsuspecting friend.
Cordial Tidings didn’t stand a chance.
10. Kiss Me Like We've Been Apart a Thousand Years
Her hooves kneaded and rolled the stallion’s tender muscles, spurring a deep, throaty hum which reverberated within his chest and a fluff of those gray-blue feathers. Esalen smiled to herself, flicking her tongue out to savor the taste of Vector’s delectably sweet, contented bliss. The merry swish of his tail betraying his delight.
“Dear Morrigan, do you have any idea how good this feels?” he murmured sleepily.
“I can only imagine.” Her smile spread to a toothy grin. “You look like you’ve been run ragged.”
And so he did. The dark circles around his eyes and the lack of luster in his mane told the tale of early rising and late sleeping. A testament to his work as Village Guard.
A testament to the tension still hanging over everyone, even though most had tried to move on with their daily lives as normal. Vector, Zephyr, and the other guards didn’t have that luxury.
Vector snorted, but didn’t open his eyes. “After all those drills they’ve been having us do, all the patrols, and all the extra shifts, I’d be shocked if there’s anyone who isn’t starting to feel it.” He sighed, flicking his tail irritably. “I’ve heard word that Hawkeye and Merryweather are supposed to be returning soon—hopefully, with good news. I don’t think I or the other two new guards can keep it up, and even some of the vets are starting to show signs of fatigue.”
Esalen’s hooves hesitated for a split second. A frown marred her beautiful face as she forced herself to resume and finish up his massage. “Do you think that’ll mean Queen Euphoria will have to bring back some of the conscripted training?” she asked. “Like what happened before?”
“You mean during the days of the Changeling Wars,” he supplied. With another snort, he bobbed his head from one side to the other. “Hasn’t come up as far as I know, but I’m low-level. I’d say that won’t happen unless whatever news they bring back drastically changes relations. At least, that’s what Zephyr thinks. Vigil is of two minds on it, from what she’s been willing to say.”
“And what’s her input?”
“That we shouldn’t be conscripting, but that we might want to consider asking folks like our parents who served to act as reserves.” He cracked open an eye to glance over his shoulder at her. “I went to have dinner with mine the other week. Their armor was out and polished like they expected it. Yours?”
This time, her hooves did stop. Esalen bit her lip, her eyes fell to the wooden floor beneath her hooves. Both of her parents had served, briefly, as reserve guards under Queen Chaete. Officially, the Caretaker Queens hadn’t conscripted villagers into service in nearly two hundred years.
The tradition of villagers joining up as reserve guards at minimum only began to change some quarter-century ago.
Would that end after the Long Night? There was, after all, only one who had ever dared to wrest control of the heavens from Princess Celestia.
She shook her head. “I haven’t been to the house. Admittedly, things have been such a whirlwind, I’ve not even thought to go visit.”
“I know the feeling. I probably wouldn’t have if mom hadn’t caught Zephyr and me while we were stumbling home after a shift and took us under her wing with a promise of a hot meal.” Vector grinned sheepishly. “Can’t help but be a sucker for mom, right?”
“Who isn’t?” Esalen quipped with a soft chitter. With a soft pat on his thigh, she said, “Get up and walk around, tell me how you feel now.”
Scarcely had the words left her mouth before Vector hopped right off the table and landed nimbly on his hooves, with a little flap of his wings for good measure. The stallion jogged a few steps in place, then trotted a brisk circuit around the room as asked, beaming as he came to a stop before her again. “Feels great, Essy! You’re a lifesaver!”
She gave another chitter, swatting his shoulder. “Oh, hush! You were a little stiff and tender, you great, big foal! You act like I just sewed your wings back on!”
“Maybe you did!” He feigned a stumble and leaned against her, pressing his cheek against hers. “Maybe if not for the efforts of our favorite new massage therapist, I might have my wings fall right off in the middle of our next flight over the forest! I could fall right into a den of timberwolves!”
“Oh, away you pesky pegasus!” she cackled, shoving him playfully. Aiming a glare at him, she shook her head. “Troublesome stallion.”
“Says the changeling.”
“Touché, Zippy. I can’t argue that one at all.”
With a smirk that rivaled her pest of a brother, Vector gave his mane a toss and said, “I’ll cherish this victory for all time. Now, then.” He drew away and took a couple steps back, his smirk fell and changed to a sincere smile. “How much do you want?”
Esalen’s ears twitched. “Hmm?”
“Don’t play coy, Essy. You know what I mean.” He waggled his ears. “Love, you silly changeling. How hungry are you? I’m happy to offer a meal’s worth with as good as you’ve made me feel the last couple times.”
Again, her ears twitched. How hungry was she?
It was nearing lunchtime and, by some twisted cosmic joke, changelings were always hungry. It was their nature to be gluttonous, greedy for love. Oh, love given freely did fill them up well. For quite a time.
But it was always there. That insatiable want for more. Especially with how sweet love tasted when given freely, when directed at the changeling feeding—not a false face, the actual changeling.
And Vector had never been one to deny his friends a sip, a drink, or a full meal when asked. So long as the deal was favorable and just.
Or, rather, fair and just in terms of what he received. It was no secret how much he tried to give. This? Well …
A flick of her tongue had her mouth watering. He was full of love, positively radiating that friendly affection for her. The taste of sweetbread and cider danced upon her tongue and begged to be devoured.
But this wasn’t a fair trade for him. Not with how exhausted he was.
The dear fool needed rest.
Esalen shook her head. “I can’t accept your love, Vector,” she said with a sad smile. “It’s not a fair trade.”
“What?” Vector blinked twice. “Essy, come on, you know it is.”
“You and the other guards have been working yourselves to the bone to keep us safe. I couldn’t, not in good conscience.” She patted his shoulder. “I’ll take your bits, but I won’t take a sip of love. I won’t pretend you’re not delicious, I won’t pretend I don’t want it, but I won’t let you give it. Not when I can see you already look like you need to go home and sleep for about twelve hours.” Esalen set her hoof down with a sharp clop. “Your trade is unfair to yourself. I’ll accept no more than five bits and a promise that you’ll rest.”
He frowned and took a step forward, setting his jaw as though he meant to argue his point further. But then, just before he could speak, Toola Roola came prancing into the room.
“Caress says it’s break time!” Toola sang, her voice as sweet as honey. “Which means lunchtime for beautiful changelings and bouncy Toolas—hi, Zippy! How’s the guard life?”
“Er.” His eyes flitted between her and Esalen, a crooked smile made its way across his face. “Every day’s a challenge, but we overcome. Just came by to have Essy help me work out a little stiffness.”
Oh, wordplay. Cute, but you’re not Aspire or Grandpa Beguile. With a roll of her eyes, Esalen turned and kissed Toola’s nose. “He was sore and aching in his legs and back, so I gave him another massage.” Then, she turned a smile so vulpine upon the stallion, he squirmed in place. “And now the dear fool has let his brain go zipping off into the distance, thinking he’s going to feed me a full meal in his state.”
Toola gasped and rounded on Vector, just in time to catch the look of utmost betrayal that flashed across his face. In a rare show of ire, she stomped twice on the floor and shook her head so hard her curls bounced. “Absolutely not!” she scolded. “You know better than to offer when you’re tired, and you look terrible, Vector!”
Vector ducked his head, his ears splayed back against his mane. “But … it’s equivalent?”
“It’s to my discretion,” Esalen countered.
“And she’s said no.” Toola stepped toward him, cowing him despite her short stature. “So bits only! What was the alternative?”
Esalen didn’t give him a chance to wheedle. “Five bits and a promise that he’d rest.”
Nodding, Toola tilted her head. “Any counter offer with bits?”
For a moment, he looked like he might try to fight once more. Vector tasted as though he’d like nothing more than to plant his hooves and argue his case.
So it fell upon Esalen to go in for the kill. She stepped close, laying a hoof upon his shoulder again. “I’d love to feed on you, Vector. You’ve always tasted sweet and been a good meal, but I really can’t feed on a friend when I see him so tired.” She leaned in, nuzzling his cheek. “I’ll raise to seven bits,” she offered. “But please promise me you’ll sleep?”
Vector let out a low, discontented grumble. “Eight,” he grunted, fishing out a hoof-full of bits. “Let me pay you what you’ve actually earned in some way, please.”
“I accept.” Beaming, Esalen planted a chaste kiss on his cheek and accepted the bits. After she floated them over to her purse, she gave him a light shoulder bump toward the door. “Now, get your happy feathery rear in gear, Zippy. Go home and sleep. And don’t you even think of taking a power nap or I’ll come wrap you up and give you to Queen Euphoria to watch over.”
“Yipe! No thanks!” He skittered away, his eyes wide and feathers bristling. “We’re gonna have to worry enough about her doting once we’re off high-alert! I do not need that on top of it!”
The couple grinned as they watched their friend hurry out like the hounds of Tartarus were nipping at his hooves. Giggling, Toola spun on one hoof and caught Esalen in a loose embrace, bending backward and hanging from her shoulders.
“So,” she said, “where and what do you wanna eat, sexy changeling?”
“Sexy?” Esalen purred. She looped a hoof around Toola’s head, leaning in to nibble at those soft, delectable lips. “Well, with talk like that, I’d say your love, treasure. But I may have need of you being peppy and energetic later on.” Planting a quick kiss, she licked Toola from chin to nose. “When we’re alone.”
The rosy red which spread through her love’s face was just delightful. Delicious! It even managed to reach the nape of her neck, and the tips of those soft, vulnerable ears.
Such a shame this wasn’t the place to hold her close and nibble a bit.
Chuckling, Esalen kissed her forehead and asked, “How much time did she say we had?”
“T-Two hours,” Toola squeaked.
Plenty of time for what she hd in mind. “Let’s swing by the house,” Esalen began, “we can pick up a few things, then eat together at the edge of the forest. A little picnic, just you and me.” She drew in close, teasing her lips against Toola’s as she whispered, “Would my treasure like that?”
Between the sweet taste of love and giddiness, the spice of something quite a bit more heated, and the eager kiss her proposal earned, Esalen was quite confident in claiming victory.
A soft blanket had been laid out over a little spot between their back yard and the forest, upon the cool dirt in the shade of a great oak tree. In short order, the pair had put together a modest little picnic, respectable for a spur of the moment affair. A few sandwiches, a modest tulip and violet salad with fresh greens and a few sliced tomatoes—Toola couldn’t abide whole tomatoes, for reasons she seemingly refused to explain, as Esalen learned—along with a pitcher of some strawberry, banana, and citrus drink the villagers affectionately dubbed “fruit breeze.”
A name which never failed to earn giggles and chitters and teasing questions of just what manner of whimsical silliness inspired it among the foals and nymphs. And one which earned knowing smiles and insistence that they’d figure it out someday from the adults.
They never did, of course. Because there was no answer. It was just a name. But what better way to tease a bunch of curious little ones than to make them think there was some big secret only the adults knew?
Toola Roola laid across Esalen’s back, the mare’s warm body and velvety smooth coat a welcome feeling for the relaxing changeling. Every so often, she would lean over between bites or sips and brush their cheeks together, humming a low, happy note. Like a siren song to coax a reply.
As if any such were needed. Esalen was all to happy to turn her head and nuzzle along her jawline, trailing a fluffy kiss here and there which spurred a gasp or croon from those sweet lips. And with each, she would draw closer, tantalizingly so until her happy, prancing treasure would let her eyes flutter shut and part her lips.
Only to be denied at the last moment.
“Essyyyyyyyyy!” Toola whined, kicking her hind hooves against the blanket and wringing her sandwich in hoof.
To her credit, Esalen’s face betrayed nothing. She simply aimed an innocent smile and raised her brows, waggling her ears. “Yes, Toolaaaaaaaaaaaaaa?” she whined back.
Another whine and kicking of her hooves, this time coupled with an adorable pout only Toola Roola could manage. “Stop teasing me!” she complained.
Esalen tapped a hoof against her chin and feigned a contemplative frown, humming a low note. Then, she turned and offered a small smile, her eyes fluttering as she drew in give Toola the kiss she so craved. She waited until the last possible instant, when her beloved girlfriend’s eyes fluttered shut and her breath hitched in her chest, those lips parting once more, before she adjusted her course and nipped the very tip of her snout.
Toola squealed and scrunched her nose. Then, when she realized she’d been had, she aimed a glare at Esalen. A glare which was quite ruined by the poorly hidden smile and blush dusting her cheeks. “I take it back,” she grumbled.
“Oh?” Esalen arched a brow. “And just what do you take back, treasure?”
“You’re not a sexy changeling at all.” Her aquamarine eyes shone with humor. “You’re a mean changeling and I’m gonna tell everyone ever! So there!” Toola punctuated her words with a little nod and a snort, then began to rise and scoot herself to the other side of the blanket.
Quick as a cat, Esalen reached out and deftly swiped her planted hoof to trip her, sending her tumbling onto her back in a wild flail of limbs. Easy prey to be pounced and pinned, even with a mouthful of lettuce and flowers.
Swallowing the mouthful, she grinned. “So there?” she mimicked. “A mean changeling, am I?”
Toola sucked in her lips to hide a smile, squirming beneath her. She even ducked her head as if she thought she could hide behind her half-eaten sandwich. “Maybe not so mean you’d tease and torment a poor, innocent mare trapped beneath her beautiful, sexy girlfriend?” she offered hopefully.
“Oh! I’m beautiful and sexy now, am I? How things change when I have you trapped!” Esalen grinned and leaned in close, her breath washing over Toola’s face. The mare beneath her shuddered and gasped, tilting her head back to allow a soft kiss to the tip of her nose. She did not, however, expect Esalen to steal a generous bite of her sandwich, or hum in thought like she were considering a prisoner’s fate. “And you are many things, treasure. Innocent, I’m afraid, is not,” she quipped after swallowing the bite. Again, she drew herself close, whispering in Toola’s ear in a low purr, “Or need I remind this gorgeous mare I’ve caught of our first night in our new home?”
“Maaaaaaaybe!” came the trilled reply. Her cheeks flushing, Toola turned to nuzzle beneath Esalen’s ear and whisper, “Maybe I like hearing I can make my gorgeous Essy purr like a kitten and think about us.”
A hint of a blush filled Esalen’s cheeks. “That you don’t have to worry about at all.” She turned to plant a soft kiss on her love’s lips, then nuzzled a slow circle about her nose. “I think of my treasure more than she could ever know. Even if she’s a little minx pretending she’s an innocent, bubbly mare.”
“Only a little guilty!” Toola chirped before stealing a kiss and settling back upon the blanket.
A little? Esalen arched a brow, a reminder of some of the events of that night and others which followed, and a few secretive meetings prior ventured to the tip of her tongue. But she let the moment pass, instead favoring to settle down atop her girlfriend with another shared kiss, then laid her head on Toola’s soft, warm chest. A low, contented purr building within her chest, and given voice in the back of her throat. The musical giggle and kiss to her forehead it drew earned a lower pitch and affectionate lick.
This was just perfect. A home with her brother, her best friend, and her girlfriend, a trade shared both with the latter and her late grandfather, and this moment. A quiet moment on a picnic with Toola Roola.
What could be better?
Toola’s hoof began to run gently through her mane. “Zippy looks exhausted lately,” she murmured. “All of them do.”
“Yeah. I can’t blame them.” Breathing a heavy sigh through her nose, Esalen nuzzled into Toola’s chest. “I think everyone’s still a bit worried since … that night.”
Humming an affirmative, Toola wrapped her free hoof. After a few seconds of silence, she asked, “Do you think it’s true? Those stories about Nightmare Moon being Princess Celestia’s sister?”
“I believe them. I mean, I certainly believe we came from the Eternal Forest of Emerald Isle, why shouldn’t I believe one of your tales?”
“Fair enough. It’s a bit of a silly thought anyway.”
Esalen wrinkled her snout. She raised her head and propped it upon the back of her wrist so she could meet Toola’s gaze. “What do you mean? What’s on your mind, gigglebox?”
“I’m gigglebox instead of treasure now?” Toola teased.
“You were never not gigglebox. The two aren’t mutually exclusive.” She leaned in to nip Toola’s lips. “Now answer the question.”
Giggling just as she was wont, Toola shrugged. “It’s nothing big, really. I was just thinking about how bad the fight must’ve been between them. For Nightmare Moon to end up banished, I mean.”
“You mean like how hard they must’ve fought?”
“Not like that, no.” She shook her head. “I guess just … I’ve fought with Nimble and you’ve fought with Aspire, but I don’t think either of us have ever thought to do something like that. Banishing them, I mean.”
A frown marred Esalen’s face. True, she’d had plenty of fights over the years with Aspire, and there had been a time or two she would’ve happily told him to go suck on rancid fish or dunk his head in the lake. But no matter how angry he made her or vice versa, he was still her brother.
They were still kin.
But Princess Celestia and Nightmare Moon. Well, there was a tale on the mouths and lips of any who paid attention to old mythology and lore. For changelings, it was tantamount. After all, most of their history was hidden in such tales.
Princess Celestia and Nightmare Moon did fight, legendarily so. A fit of jealousy and temper which ended with the younger sister imprisoned within her beloved moon for a thousand years. A thousand long years.
“Do you think they could ever make up?” Toola asked.
“Huh?” Esalen blinked. “What do you mean?”
“Just that. Do you think they could ever make up and be family again? Like you and Aspire or Nimmy and me?”
Another difficult question. Ponies were a bit strange in that way, always focused more on forgiveness and making amends, absolving one another of their slights without balancing the scales. Or perhaps, balancing it all with feelings and talk.
A changeling would demand repayment for such a slight as Nightmare Moon committed against her elder sister. A changeling Queen might demand some great, terrible deed be done in exchange for absolution.
Then again …
Princess Celestia hadn’t just forgiven her.
Nightmare Moon had been imprisoned for a thousand years—a thousand years trapped within her own beloved moon, alone as the seasons changed and the world moved on without her.
Perhaps, if pushed far enough, ponies could be rather changeling in that regard.
“I hope so,” Esalen found herself replying. “After a thousand years, I’d like to think maybe they could. After they calmed down.”
“Yeah. Me too.” Toola seemed to think a moment, her lips slowly tugging into a smile as she set her sandwich aside, then looped her hooves around Esalen’s neck in a loose hug. “Kiss me. Right now, like it were us.”
Blinking, Esalen tilted her head. “Gladly, but like it were us that what?”
Toola leaned in, her warm breath teasing Esalen’s polished face and the tips of her fangs. Her soft lips tickling as they brushed together. “Kiss me like we’ve been apart for a thousand years and we’re seeing each other again for the first time.”
The love and desire which flavored those words drew a purr deeper than before. Esalen eased her back, laying her down upon the blanket, and closed the short distance between those sweet lips and her own without hesitation or play, slipping her tongue into Toola’s waiting mouth to join together in a sensuous dance of prodding and caressing.
Their return to the clinic was twenty minutes late, but Caress forgave them. The raised brow and knowing smirk sent the pair giggling and chittering as they fled to their respective rooms.
Nearly two weeks after the first days of their trades had come to a close, Sure Stroke was sitting at the table with her boyfriend and new housemates, enjoying a nice, leisurely breakfast together after the usual weekend lay in. The perfect way to begin a Saturday, in her humble opinion—sitting in her usual place, snuggled up to her loving boyfriend, while they chatted with an equally snuggly and affectionate Esalen and Toola.
Why, it could’ve been inspiration for one of her paintings! Even as Toola, the cheeky, giggly little thing, caught Esalen unaware and poked her nose with a hoof-full of whipped cream and strawberry she’d spread atop her pancakes. An act which, rather predictably, drew a sudden hiss, a squeak, and a mad dash in vain attempt to escape before the changeling tackled her lover a mere three steps from their shared seat.
Sure Stroke covered her mouth to stifle a laugh, she could feel Aspire’s shoulders shaking with mirth as he brought his smugling mug to his lips and watched Esalen loom over Toola, her eyes glowing and fangs bared in a wicked grin before descending upon her. Poor Toola could do little more than squeal and writhe as Esalen nuzzled her face, spreading whipped cream and syrup all over the pair of them.
“Great,” Aspire said with a snort, grinning at the squealing pair. “Now they’re going to get it all over the floor. We just cleaned that the other day.”
Her control broke. Sure Stroke snickered and gave his chest a playful smack. “Oh, hush! Let them have fun!” Grinning, she leaned up to whisper in his ear, “Worse, just think of how much they’ll regret it when they have to clean it off!”
His eyes wide, Aspire snorted into his tea and sputtered a moment, then jumped up hissing and frantically wiping hot liquid from his polished carapace, right across his thigh. “Dang it, Doodle!” he cried. “Not when I’m drinking tea, for love’s sake!”
Sure Stroke winced. “Sorry.” Her ears splaying, she took up her napkin and moved to help him dry off. “I didn’t mean it.”
Her boyfriend stood on his hind legs as she worked, laying a hoof upon her shoulder for balance. With a sigh, he gave a little squeeze for comfort. “It’s fine,” Aspire murmured. “I didn’t mean to snap. Just stung a bit.”
Yes, of course it did. He loved his tea hot, and, as she’d learned, changeling carapace protected them well from physical blows to a degree. Heat and cold, not so much. If anything, it was worse.
An accident, yes, but it hardly dulled the pain.
Sure Stroke nuzzled his side, giving a little hum as she finished drying him, and leaned up to kiss his chest. The little buzz of his wings in reply drew a tiny smile, and gave her the little push to look up and meet his gaze.
His sky blue eyes never failed to transfix her. Aspire leaned down to nuzzle her nose and peck it sweetly before he wrapped his hoof around her shoulders, laying his chin atop her head as he let himself fall back on three hooves again. A low, appreciative purr rumbled in the back of his throat. He kissed her forehead softly, murmuring his thanks.
The picturesque moment had been dashed by an accident, but she couldn’t complain with how it ended. Not as lovey-dovey, but just as sweet. And, really, there was some sort of natural verve to it, wasn’t there? Not many artists she’d seen depicted the little missteps and daily accidents. It was too mundane, or lacking in that romantic mood.
To her, it was another painting. Forgiveness. Besides, love didn’t run at happy-lovey-dovey all the time. Nor did friendship.
“I’ll try not to make you snort next time,” she muttered. Sure Stroke drew back, smiling sheepishly. “But it was a good one.”
“It was,” Aspire agreed, stealing a kiss from her lips. A wicked smirk spread across his features. “Hmmm, I think I should get to spill something on you now. I’d say syrup, but …”
Curious, she raised a brow. “But what?”
His smirk grew into a full grin. “Well, you’re already sweet enough. If I cleaned it off your nose the way I wanted, I might get a sugar rush!”
Rosy red spread across her face, to the very nape of her neck. Her feathers fluffing, she unfurled her wings and batted her hooves against his chest. “You jerk! You big, dumb, teasing, dummy-dumb, jerk!” she squeaked.
Aspire chittered and caught her hooves, pulling her back into a tight embrace. With another low purr, he drew in close and nuzzled about her ears, murmuring sweet nothings, crooning such delightful compliments in her ear she could do little but bury her face in his chest and hide herself beneath his wings.
Then a loud, metallic clanging cut through the peaceful morning air. All activity halted in an instant, the four jolted, their ears perked and eyes alert as they heard Clanger’s bell ringing out as clear as day. On a Saturday morning.
Sure Stroke’s eyes went wide. There were only two reasons for Clanger to ring his bell off schedule. Given there were no guards banging on doors, she could rule out an attack.
“An assembly?” Toola asked from beneath Esalen. “On a Saturday morning?”
Frowning, Esalen rolled off of her lover, offering a hoof to help her stand. “Must be a good reason.” She turned, her bright pink eyes found her brother. “Think it has anything to do with …”
He hummed, his smile slipped away, a concerned frown in its place. Aspire released Sure Stroke from his embrace and lit his horn, levitating everything off the table. “Not sure, but if I were to wager love, I’d say yes,” he replied. “Hawkeye and Merryweather were due back soon.” His eyes flitted to the pair, he gave a little toss of his head toward the door. “Go wash off as best you can. Doodle and I will get these.”
Grinning sheepishly, Esalen and Toola muttered their thanks and dashed off to take care of their shared mess.
As soon as their thudding hooves died off, Sure Stroke followed Aspire over to the sink, her ears drooping in worry. “What do you think they’ll have found in Canterlot?” she asked.
He shook his head. “I don’t know, honey. What happened was …” Aspire sighed and leaned into her, laying his cheek against hers. Softly, he whispered, “Right now, I think we can only hope they bring good news. What happened that day has only happened once. Ever.”
Her heart sank. Sure Stroke knew that just as well as he. All of Equestria remembered the stories.
She felt his hoof wrap around her shoulders again, pulling her in tight as he used his precious love-powered magic to clean the dishes.
Every pony knew.
They’d just hoped she was just a story.
Not a single soul in Respite dared to miss an assembly when Queen Euphoria called.
Not out of fear of physical punishment or verbal tirade in front of fellow villagers, mind. Rather, a sense of obligation and commitment to one another, and a general want to maintain safety. If one failed to listen and heed warnings, well, for a village in which half the population had to keep hidden lest they inspire fear and invite persecution, it could have dire consequences.
But today, the mood was different. The Caretakers and ponies of Respite gathered together, the air thick with anticipation and anxiety. A low murmur rippled through the crowd, members of both races wondered with one another what news had come from Canterlot. Villagers held their families close, and encircled their visitors, a silent sign that while they might not be family or live there permanently, they weren’t alone. They were protected.
All found sanctuary in Respite’s boundaries, whether from sickness, injury, mental ailment, or threats from outside.
Aspire, Esalen, Sure Stroke and Toola Roola stood together with their families, with Sleet and Snow Flurry and their little fillies not more than a hoof’s length away—unprompted, Sure Stroke was happy to note.
Warm Welcome took a moment to turn and offer a comforting smile to the pegasus family. “I’m sure everything’s fine,” he said softly. “If anything, Hawkeye will have made his report, and it’ll come out that there was nothing too serious.”
“Princess Celestia never fails to raise the sun!” Sleet hissed without heat. Her eyes flitted between Warm Welcome and Queen Euphoria’s house. “Not once in my life has the sun not risen when it was meant!”
“There’s always a first time for everything,” Aspire chipped in helpfully. “Who knows? She could’ve just been sick and needed to lay in a little.”
If she hadn’t known him for two years, Sure Stroke might have missed his tells. That little twitch at the corner of his mouth, the strain in his smile even as he tried to sell the notion to the fillies, a sweet lie to get them to relax their wings and breathe a little easier. Perhaps if not for that little moment shared in their kitchen, he might’ve even fooled her a little.
But he managed with them. The hesitant smiles which slowly spread across their little faces, her shoulders relaxing visibly.
He’s so good with little ones, Sure Stroke mused with a fond smile. Just like his father.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw movement. The front door to Queen Euphoria’s house opened, and out trotted Hawkeye, Merryweather, all the Queen’s entourage, and Queen Euphoria herself. On each of there faces, they wore frowns—not of sadness, as far as she could tell. Rather, they seemed almost contemplative.
Sure Stroke’s mind raced. What news could Hawkeye and Merryweather have brought back to earn such looks? The sun was up, so clearly things were well enough with Princess Celestia. Or was there something else?
Her mind went back to her talk with Aspire earlier that morning. There was only one time in history the sun had failed to raise when it was meant. That it happened again left little doubt in anyone’s mind who could be responsible.
Who else could wrest control of the very heavens from the Harbinger of Day?
Only then did Sure Stroke notice that Queen Euphoria’s horn was lit a verdant green. Curious, she let her eyes flit left and found a piece of parchment floating mere inches over her left shoulder. A gust of wind made the parchment flutter, giving her a look at the bottom left corner—specifically, at the mark of a golden sun glinting in the light.
The Royal Seal of Princess Celestia.
All conversation ground to a halt, everyone turned their full attention to Queen Euphoria as she stood atop her porch steps, her gaze sweeping out over the gathered crowd. She offered a small smile, forced and just a little crooked, telling of tiredness and just a hint of something else. Anxiety? Relief?
The little sigh she gave while letting her shoulders relax brought a sense of warmth to Sure Stroke’s chest. Relief. Tenseness being let out. That was good.
“Thank you all for gathering so quickly,” Queen Euphoria said, bowing her head to her villagers. “I do sincerely apologize for asking my dear Clanger to summon you from your homes at this hour on a weekend, but thanks our dear friends, Hawkeye and Merryweather, accepting the risk of leaving our village boundaries after our recent troubles—” she paused to offer a nod to the pair and allow a moment of polite rumbling applause, then gestured to the parchment floating near her shoulder “—we have at last received news from Canterlot.”
All around her, Sure Stroke saw heads perk up and ears stand tall. Changelings and ponies alike regarded their Queen with wide eyes, and apprehensive gazes. She, herself, felt her heart jump into her throat.
Queen Euphoria drew the parchment forward and glanced at it quickly, reading aloud, “From Madame Chaleur du Soleil, as dictated by Princess Celestia. On the eve of the Summer Sun Celebration, an incident occurred which saw an old prophecy I’d known to be due fulfilled. My sister, the mare formerly known as Nightmare Moon was freed from her thousand-year imprisonment within the moon.”
The instant the words left her lips, the crowd whipped back into a frenzy. Sure Stroke felt her blood run cold, her breath caught in her throat, even as Aspire wrapped a comforting hoof around her shoulders and pulled her in close, tight against his chest. All around her, the villagers seemed to drift closer, as if drawn by some unseen force to gather together for protection and security.
“Be at ease,” the Queen of Caretakers called, holding up a hoof. “There is more still. Madame Soleil writes that her highness was imprisoned, briefly, by her sister. However, through the actions of six young mares, one of which was the Princess’s student, Twilight Sparkle, the Elements of Harmony were found after a thousand years of dormancy, and used to defeat Nightmare Moon.”
Again, heads perked up. This time, that heavy, oppressive weight bearing down on the crowd lifted, evaporated into relief and just a hint of joy!
“So she’s gone?” Sleet called, voicing everyone’s thoughts. Voicing everyone’s hopes. “For good this time?”
Queen Euphoria shook her head. “Not quite—wait.” She held up a hoof to forestall any panic. “From what Her Majesty writes, Nightmare Moon is not the true face of her younger sister, nor her name. Rather, Nightmare Moon was the identity assumed by Princess Luna, Mistress of the Night, after jealousy and dark magics corrupted her heart. The Elements purified her of dark influences, and granted her clarity. She has since put forth formal apology for deeds past and recent, and surrendered herself to Princess Celestia for judgement.” With a little flick of magic, she rolled up the scroll, and said, “Princess Celestia has extended a hoof of forgiveness and offer for a second chance, one it would seem has been accepted. Therefore, some change will come as Princess Luna acclimates and takes on her old duties. However, we have Her Majesty’s every assurance that Canterlot and Respite remain, and shall remain, on good terms.”
Sure Stroke could feel her head spinning, her mind struggling to keep up with everything. So much to take in all at once! Nightmare Moon’s return? The Elements of Harmony? Six random mares finding it all and saving the day? And a brand new, but not really new, Princess to top it all?
Slowly, she brought a hoof to her forehead to try and stem the onsetting headache. Goodness gracious, what was the world coming to? And to think she thought things irreconcilable the day she walked through Respite’s wooden gate to find a village full of changelings was the big problem she’d face in her young life!
The return of Nightmare Moon—er, Luna, rather? Surely not.
And yet, here they were.
To her left, Esalen shook her head. “This is just insane,” she muttered, voicing quite a few villagers’ thoughts, if the nods were anything to go by. Turning, she fixed Aspire with a quizzical look. “Prophecies, Elements, and ancient princesses?”
Aspire offered a hesitant smile. “To be fair, we came from the Eternal Forest on Emerald Isle, from the Faerie Glen,” he reminded her. “And there are plenty of stories of the Fall of Night. And we know of there being two princesses who put the Dark King down after he cursed the Sainted Ones.”
“True enough. I guess … I don’t know.” Again, she shook her head, leaning over to brush her shoulder against Toola’s. “All’s well that ends well, I suppose.”
“Essy, shh!” Toola hissed, jabbing her side. Before her girlfriend could take offense, she gave a meaningful nod to the head of the crowd, back to Queen Euphoria.
Following her gaze, Sure Stroke perked her ears just in time to catch the last little bit of the Queen’s announcement.
“While the news is indeed favorable on the surface,” she said, “I would still stress caution and maintaining the security of our village, all of you, and our guests until I speak with Madame Soleil personally. It is with that in mind that I must ask you all to put any travel plans you’ve made or were considering on hold.” Queen Euphoria turned to bow her head to the pony guests and said, “I cannot command you all to stay against your will, but I would prefer it, for ease of mind. If you should decide to remain, you will, of course, enjoy our continued hospitality. Thank you all again for your time. If there are any questions, feel free to join us inside.”
Her piece said, the Queen of Caretakers turned and began to walk into her home, offering a soft nuzzle and brush of her shoulder against the flank of each of her entourage as she went. Before she entered, though, she paused to turn and address her faithful informants with a smile. “Hawkeye, Merry, dear, I think you’ve more than earned a rest. Sweet Treat?” she called.
“Yes, Your Highness?” Sweet Treat called back, pushing her way forward.
“Kindly see to it that our friends are well-fed. Anything they’d like, on my treat. My thanks to them for taking such a risk.”
With a bow, Sweet Treat gestured for the pair to follow her, a stern look upon her face when Hawkeye dared look as though he might like to voice protest. The baker mare trotted along with her nephews and Maple trailing in her wake, along with a most amused Vigil grinning and waggling her ears at her fellow changeling.
Aspire released Sure Stroke from his embrace with a little peck on the cheek, and stepped forward. “I’m going to see what their reasoning is,” he said before any could ask. “A bit curious as to what else they’re thinking might come out once Madame Soleil is able to give more details.”
“Smart move, son,” Faith praised. “Let us know what you hear?”
“Of course.” He turned to nuzzle Sure Stroke, pecking her nose once more. “I’ll be home in a bit.”
She smiled in return. “I’ll make you some tea when you get there. I expect details.”
“You’ll have them.” For a moment, he lingered, furrowing his brows. “Could you do me a favor?”
“Sure. What is it?”
“Send a letter to Enticier by fire and see how he’s doing, and how the mood is in Paradise. They’re not as close to Canterlot, so it might be a few days before they hear.” Thinking a moment, he added, “Depending on where their scouts were at the time.”
Sure Stroke nodded. “I’d be happy to. He’s probably dealing with a lot.”
“What if their fire paths are locked down?” Esalen asked. “You know how Grandpa used to tell me they shut off during initial days if there was worry of war, save for the one between each of the Queens.”
He drew in a deep breath through his nose and let it out in a heavy sigh. “In that case, we’ll either have to wait or see if we can convince Queen Euphoria to check on our behalf. For now, please check on him.” Aspire turned, though not before Sure Stroke saw worry flash across his face.
A pang shot through her chest. They hadn’t even thought of Enticier, or how worried he might be. Or how much might be put on him helping out with the resorts.
Sure Stroke hurried forward to nuzzle his cheek. “I’ll do that,” she whispered. “Would you like me to tell him anything else?”
“Tell him I said we’re okay and not to worry. And tell him not to lie when you ask if he’s okay.”
Her brows shot up. “And if he’s not?”
Her boyfriend lingered a moment longer, his ears flicking. “If he’s not,” Aspire said softly, “then he has his choice of coming here, meeting in Manehattan, or us going to him as soon as this blows over.”
Without another word or backward glance, Aspire trotted off to speak with Queen Euphoria.
One of the things Sure Stroke had to pick up during her time in Respite was the odd way changelings sent letters to their kin.
Post, to changelings, was a rather silly thing, a bit of an unfortunate necessity they put up with so they could keep in contact with their pony friends living outside the village. Or, well, in Enticier’s case, outside the Enchanters’ resorts. Their typical manner between one another, however, made such things entirely unnecessary.Unless, of course, they were trying to send to a changeling living among ponies. In which case, the post would have to suffice.
In Respite, within each changeling’s home, they were connected to the other hives by a bit of old magic they called fire paths. Contrary to what the name might suggest, they weren’t maintained by some ever-present fire burning in the fireplace, or an entire room devoted to some arcane fire pit surrounded by ancient sigils—much to Sure Stroke’s initial disappointment.
Stupid Aspire, building it up like some fancy thing. And stupid Esalen holding back her smile until she realized and smacked him over the head for it.
And stupid thirteen-year-old me believing him, she thought with a sheepish grin.
No, nothing quite so fancy. Instead, there was a little alcove, a nook, even, off to the side in the sitting room. Right next to the actual fireplace, funnily enough. To the untrained eye, it looked like some random little spot, a half-circular area which could have easily fitted a nice potted plant or something. Maybe stick the fire poker and such in there so it was out of the way, a mercy on an unobservant pony’s poor knees.
In truth, that was where the fire path was set. If one were to draw near and look directly into the wood, they would notice a pair of circles etched into the perimeter, with lettering of the Old Tongue clear in between.
“Old magic,” Aspire had told her after the joke had passed. “This is some of the oldest magic we have from the time spent in the Faerie Glen, back when the hives were one. It was even used to make defense better during our alliance with the Sainted Ones.” When he noticed her quizzical look, he’d grinned. “We have a few spells like that. Some can change how things around us look, some can send things to one another …”
She never forgot how his grin faltered or eyes flitted away.
“What?” she’d asked.
He shifted in place. “Or sending food to secluded places where we wouldn’t be disturbed while we fed.”
Sure Stroke banished those thoughts from her mind, striding through the sitting room and down the hall until she reached her own. Upon her neatly-organized desk—a result of two years of Aspire’s nagging, more than her own design—there were several ready quills and inkwells, alongside a neat little stack of papers. Her drawers, on the other hoof, were a complete catastrophe, and Aspire had long-since surrendered to the reality that he’d never win that particular battle.
With a little snicker at the look that always flashed across his face when he opened them up, she snatched a couple pages and quill and inkwell from the desk, then hurried back to the sitting room where Esalen and Toola awaited, both seated on the slime pod love seat.
She shoved the single pod seat until it was within easy reach of the coffee table and took her place, spreading everything out so she could draft a quick letter.
“What’re you thinking of sending him to start off?” Esalen asked.
“Just letting him know that we’re okay and we got news from Canterlot, and asking if he’s okay,” Sure Stroke replied as she dipped her quill in the inkwell.
“Good call.” After a beat, Esalen frowned and glanced down at her hind hooves. “Please include my best wishes as well.”
“And mine,” Toola added, leaning against her lover’s side to offer a comforting nuzzle.
Smiling, Sure Stroke nodded and turned her attention to her letter, and scribbling out a message:
Dear Enticier,
I’m sorry it’s taken so long for us to write to you, but as you might guess, things were a little hectic with Trade Day and the mishap the morning of the Summer Sun Celebration. We just received word from Canterlot about Nightmare Moon’s return. I’m not sure when you’ll get details, but evidently she was defeated and somehow is now her more … benevolent self again. Princess Luna, the second sister who put down the Dark King, if you know anything more about her. All I have is the part of that old mare’s tale about Nightmare Moon being jealous of Princess Celestia.
Everyone is okay here. Aspire and I are now living together with Esalen and Toola Roola, like we mentioned when you visited last summer. It was a bit of a scare when the sun didn’t come up, but, for the most part, everything is running smoothly.
Are you okay? Is everything okay in Paradise and the other resorts? Everyone has asked that I pass along their best wishes.
Aspire especially.
I hope you get a little free time to reply soon, but I understand if you’re busy with everything up north. Take care and please be well.
With love,
Sure Stroke
She gave the letter a quick once over to check for spelling mistakes or anything she missed. Sure Stroke hummed and chewed on her lip in thought. Aspire had mentioned that he wanted her to check and see if Enticier was okay, as she’d done, but to state that he wasn’t to lie. What’s more, he wanted his old friend face to face if all wasn’t well.
In Manehattan, Paradise, or here, she recalled. Despite the mood, she couldn’t help but allow herself a little smile. Those two really do love one another.
Sure Stroke shook the page to dry the ink, then folded it into thirds. “Ready to send,” she said aloud. “Do you mind, Essy?”
Esalen pecked Toola’s cheek, then hopped up and bounded over to the fire path. “Happy to do it. Letter, please,” she replied, holding out a hoof to accept the letter. Then, she deposited it into the fire path, lighting her horn a deep, verdant green.
Within the little nook, the circle and ruins lit up, matching her magic’s color. There was a sudden rush of wind, then whooshing sound as green fire sparked to life around the ring and encircled the letter like a cyclone, and closed in, devouring the folded paper in seconds! The fire seemed to melt out of existence, dying to a few lingering emerald flickers, with no trace of ash or crumbled remains.
The letter was gone, on its way to Paradise.
“Well,” Sure Stroke said, flopping into her pod seat with a little bounce and smile. “That takes care of that. Hopefully, he sees it soon and can—”
No sooner did she begin to speak did the fire path light up again, casting the room in its emerald glow. There was another rush of flames and wind, the cyclone of fire swirled and spat out a rolled up scroll of parchment.
He’d already replied.
Grinning, Esalen plucked the scroll from the fire path and tossed it to her. “Well, seems that didn’t take too long at all!” She waggled her ears and leaned up against the wall. “What’s it say, Doodle?”
“Patience, nosy-ling!” Sure Stroke teased as she took hold of the scroll, noting the fine emblem of a heart set within a tongue of flame—his personal mark, a fitting nod to one of his name’s meanings. She unrolled it carefully, biting her lip at what she might find he’d written.
What she saw before her wasn’t the neat, flowing writing she’d been accustomed to when exchanging letters with the charming young prince. Instead, his writing was jerky, rushed. Almost sloppy, like he’d either not been sleeping or he’d quickly scribbled it all down in between doing ten or twenty other things.
Dear Sure Stroke,
Thank Morrigan you’re all safe. I’m so sorry that I’ve not written either. Things have been just as hectic at the resorts as you and everyone worried, I’m afraid. An unfortunate side effect of our guests being charmed to speak their deepest desires and let no shame or awkwardness come between expressing their feelings with us has … well, there is another side to our hive you’ve only really glimpsed.
We love them dearly. We protect them and try to take care of their hearts, similar to our cousins in Respite, in a way. But this … this is something we were ill-prepared to handle. This is something I’m not sure if any are prepared to handle. We’ve done our best to calm them and hold them close, and hearing from our own informants did ease the burden, but my mother is anxious about this new princess. It’s been a thousand years since our kind had dealings with her and hers, not all were pleasant. Nor were they all poor.
Time will tell.
I am well enough. Tired. Stressed. But relieved to receive your letter. Relieved to hear you’re all well. And, selfishly, gratified that you’d think of me.
Tell them that I wish them all well, and pass my (Sure Stroke took note of a hasty scratch out mark blotting out a word) wishes to Aspire. He’s sweet to worry for me. Give him a hug on my behalf, if you don’t mind.
L(Another blot in the middle of the letter, drawing a confused frown) Sincerely,
Enticier
No fancy titles or branding words, a small relief. He didn’t even try to slip in a bit of wordplay.
But there were those little scratch outs, like a foal making a mistake.
Enticier was normally so proper and neat when he sent letters. Why, his writing was almost artistry in itself! Even Aspire confessed his envy!
Was he lying as Aspire worried?
A cold claw touched her chest, just near her heart. Her brows furrowed, Sure Stroke passed his letter to Esalen so she might read it aloud for Toola, and took up her quill again. Her tail swished and feathers twitched in agitation. Something was off. She didn’t like off.
The young mare hastily scribbled out a new letter for Esalen to send.
Enticier,
Are you sure you’re okay? Your writing is a mess. Like you’re scribbling against a wall.
Sure Stroke
She rolled the letter up, bound it with Enticier’s fancy silver fastening, and passed it to Esalen again, who glanced it over and gave a little snort, but didn’t smile. She’d noticed too. In seconds, the spell was cast, and the reply sent through the fire path bound for Paradise.
Sure Stroke began to tap her hoof against the edge of the pod seat. What was wrong with him? It wasn’t like him at all to let anything be out of sorts, or to sound so choppy in writing. By Celestia, the only times she’d ever seen him looking anything but the picture of regality, teasing and slight awkwardness during their reunion aside, were the night she turned him down and the time he’d taken a tumble out of a fishing boat into the lake.
Something wasn’t right.
Another flash of emerald flame drew her out of her thoughts, she looked up just in time to catch another scroll. Sure Stroke undid the fasten as quick as a flash and unrolled it to read. Once again, the same jerky, sloppy writing greeted her eyes.
Sure Stroke,
I’m sorry about that. It’s just been very hectic here, and I’ve been running around a lot. Between ponies and my kin, I’m … I’m doing my best to juggle everyone and keep everyone’s spirits up. Mom was in tears the other night. Tears of absolute stress and fury because this isn’t something she could simply rend apart with her fangs to ease my—forgive the term, it’s odd, but it’s the closest thing we have in modern Equish to their relationship—sister-mothers’ pain. Dad has been trying his best to keep her together, but even he’s struggling.
They’re complaining about something in their dreams now. A pair of eyes, watching them. A lonely mare, curious and asking questions in an old tongue.
I don’t mean to worry you, I promise. I’m frazzled, but okay. I’m fine.
(Here, Sure Stroke frowned again as a large section was furiously scribbled out. An entire line, save for two letters)es.
Speaking of your trades, how are they going? Has your art therapy gone well? Your book? I hope I don’t sound impetuous, but I do look forward to reading it soon. Perhaps you’ll send me a copy? Name your price (Another blotch made her heart sink into the grip of that icy claw) and I’ll gladly pay it.
Sincerely,
Enticier
She looked back over his letter again, biting her lip. No, it wasn’t quite the same writing. It was worse. Messier. More erratic.
Was he in the middle of dealing with something as she sent them? Or was he panicking?
To that end, what was it he kept scribbling out?
With a frustrated grumble, Sure Stroke rose and hurried to snatch another pair of pages from her room, then returned to jot down another reply.
Enticier,
Please don’t lie to Aspire and me. Are you okay? Is there anything we can do to help?
With love,
Sure Stroke
She made as though to roll up her reply, but stopped short, remembering Aspire’s words.
“If he’s not, then he has his choice of coming here, meeting in Manehattan, or us going to him as soon as this blows over.”
He wasn’t. If Aspire were here, he’d have snatched the letter away the instant he noticed something amiss and demanded Enticier tell or agree to meet.
Perhaps it was time to give a bit of Commander Hurricane’s famed percussive therapy. Long distance.
P.S. You once told me you wanted there to be no boundaries between us speaking and how we felt, and I told you I wasn’t comfortable with that coming from your charm. Now, I’m asking you the same. Aspire is worried. He wanted me to tell you to be forward and let us know.
If not, he wants to see you. He wants to see his friend. Whether it means we meet in Manehattan, you visit us here, or—
Her heart skipped a beat. Could she?
Sure Stroke beat that little voice back. She befriended changelings and fell for the one who scared her so in the middle of the forest. Of course she could say it to a friend.
—or Paradise. I want to see you.
She shook the page to help dry out the ink before rolling and binding it with his fasten again, then tossed it over to Esalen. Her friend caught it with barely a look, then deposited it into the fire path where she cast the spell and sent it off to Paradise in another rush of emerald flames.
This time, his reply didn’t come so quickly. Sure Stroke sat with Esalen and Toola in muted silence, the mares watching with wide eyes while Esalen waited by the fire path, then began pacing, her lips tugging into a tiny frown and sugar pink tail flicking.
The atmosphere in their little home was thick with anxiety. Waiting for a reply after he’d been so quick just made it worse, so much so. And more difficult to do anything but analyze it to Pegasopolis and back!
He’s busy and trying to juggle everything, Sure Stroke reminded herself. His parents, all the guests at his resort, all the Enchanters worried about their lovers and friends, and his own worries.
The timing his reply came was almost too perfect. The first tongues of emerald flame began to swirl did Sure Stroke hear the door latch clicked open, and she turned over her shoulder to see her beloved Aspire poke his messy blue-maned head inside. He pushed it closed with a nudge of his hind hoof, his mouth open with a greeting on the tip of his tongue.
Then his eyes raised and saw the dying glow of the fire path. His jaw clicked shut, all focus went to the scroll resting in the center.
She saw his throat muscles work as he swallowed. Aspire approached slowly, his lips parted like he wanted so dearly to flick his tongue, but didn’t.
“Is that the first?” he asked softly. At a shake of Toola’s head, he bit his lip. “How is he?”
Slowly, Sure Stroke turned to look to Esalen. Her friend already had the scroll in hoof, her bright pink eyes dim as they flitted between the pair.
The scroll laid open in her hoof. Esalen’s eyes fell upon the message again, her face contorted into a worried grimace. “I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I’m not okay. I’m trying so hard for them. For mom. But I’m not.”
Sure Stroke felt that icy claw grip her heart. Her very throat was tight and raw.
Aspire crossed the room in an instant, his strides long and powerful. He held his hoof out for Sure Stroke’s quill. Once she passed it over, he dipped it in ink and spoke aloud, “Queen Euphoria says two weeks. In two weeks, we’re meeting him again.” He paused to glance up at Esalen and Toola. “Would you two like to come?”
“Any other time I’d say you have to charm me to stop me,” Toola replied, all traces of laughter gone from her face. “But I think he needs to see you two first.”
“Likewise,” Esalen agreed. She offered a small, pained smile. “Give him my love.”
Nodding once, he turned his attention to his reply. Across the face of the page, in letters almost two lines tall, he wrote in clear, precise print:
Enticier,
Manehattan. Two weeks. Pick a hotel.
If you skip out, Sure Stroke and I are continuing north until we hit your doorstep. Essy and Toola send their love.
Aspire.
With a flick of his magic, Aspire cast his letter into the fire path and sent it on its way. Then, with a heavy sigh, he let himself fall down into the pod seat beside Sure Stroke and covered his face with a hoof. His other trembled as he reached out, seeking hers.
What else could she do but take hold and lean in to nuzzle his cheek? “He’ll be okay,” she whispered. “We’ll see him in two weeks, and he’ll be okay.”
His grip tightened. “I know,” Aspire murmured. With another sigh, he shifted and rolled over to bury his face in her chest, his warm breath tickled her coat. He wrapped his hooves tight around her midsection, his voice muffled as he added, “I just wish we weren’t so far away right now.”
There were some aspects to joining Faith in her therapist trade Sure Stroke hadn’t quite expected when she floated the idea two years prior.
The first, of course, was that some of those issues she might be called upon to help with might be a bit more difficult than something like her own—indeed, looking back, it was more than just a little silly of her not to foresee such a thing, but Sure Stroke would chalk that up to not actually witnessing such sessions. Faith, after all, knew better.
The pair sat comfortably in Faith’s living room, side by side in matching pod seats while they looked over the calendar and noted upcoming individual sessions, requests, and openings. It was a chance for her to see the other side of things. Organization was key.
Still, the little filly who only saw Faith around her friends’ house, or finishing up with a client—whether that meant a session or a feeding depended entirely on the client in question—it was quite jarring to see her hunched over the coffee table, her brows furrowed in concentration as she made notes by certain dates and moved names and times about to keep it all neat, orderly, and balanced.
Sure Stroke had to take a moment to stop and gaze upon her mentor, checking for any sign that this could be Aspire in disguise. Alas, there was none. Those shimmering golden locks and eyes were unmistakeable, and Faith showed none of her son’s tells. There wasn’t even a hint of that smile she shared with her nymphs at the corner of her mouth—the one that never failed to send villagers checking their surroundings so they wouldn’t be the next victim.
Her thoughts then turned to Aspire for what must have been the fourth time in as many minutes.
Ever since that exchange with Enticier, her boyfriend had been quiet. Somber.
Not at all himself.
Sure Stroke only just managed to withhold a heavy sigh. As much as Aspire claimed Enticier to be a pest when she’d first met the young Prince, their bond was strong. It had been Aspire’s want to see their friendship maintained, the relief on his face when he saw it realized that always stuck with her.
Hearing that his friend was struggling so—well, Sure Stroke couldn’t say that she needed to imagine it.
She lived it each time she snuck a look at just the right moment. The right time to catch him looking out at the window with that sad frown that didn’t quite belong, close his eyes, and take a deep breath before he affixed a smile to his face and pressed on.
Unfortunately, such staring couldn’t go unnoticed by a Caretaker. Sure Stroke barely noticed the very tips of her tongue flick between her lips, but she did find herself transfixed by those amused eyes. “You taste of amusement and curiosity, dear,” she said. Then, her amusement dimmed. “And melancholy. Care to share the source?”
Her feathers ruffling, Sure Stroke shook her head. “Just a bit of personal worry, really. Other than that, I never really thought there was so much organization and planning that went into the trade. Well, that’s not quite right. I guess there was just this silly filly image I had of you. You were always here whenever we came by, and I never saw all of this.” She waved a hoof over the table. “So I guess I just assumed your patients just wandered in or something.”
“Well, there are some of those.” Faith tapped a hoof near a note which read Free and said, “I try to leave myself a few hours each day so I can receive unexpected visitors. Warm usually brings them in if he tastes anything alarming. If not, Queen Euphoria will either send them my way or coax them to stay for tea while Breezy sneaks out the back door to fetch me.”
“That almost makes it sound like you tag team with her.”
“In a way? I suppose I do.” Her mentor paused in her work to tilt her head and wrinkle her snout, an amused smile spreading across her lips. “You know, I’ve never really thought of it that way. It was just always sort of a system we’d worked out together, since we had similar interests as nymphs.”
Sure Stroke’s ears twitched. Had they? Well, they were around the same age, come to think of it. Perhaps it wasn’t that difficult to see. “So, would that mean I might find myself a member of this team now?” she joked. “And should I expect Breezy to make a call or two for me?”
Faith paused a moment to think. “Well, I don’t know if I would expect that so soon,” she replied slowly. “Maybe after some time when you’ve taken more patients on your own. Along with Sleet and Snow Flurry,” the changeling added, her golden eyes glittered. “I saw you taking care of them during your first session, by the by. You were a natural.”
Her cheeks flushing at the praise, the young mare ducked her head, her feathers fluffed as her wings began to unfurl as if to cover her face. But she held strong and resisted the urge.
She could not, however, help the shaky smile which played upon her lips. “I just did what I thought was best,” she muttered. “Sleet was a … well, I shouldn’t say she was a mess, that’s not kind at all. She was …”
“Vulnerable,” Faith supplied with a nod. “She was quite vulnerable, as was Snow Flurry.”
“Yes. That’s a much better way to put it. Thank you.”
“Of course. If anything, it’ll help internalize that our patients aren’t here because they’re a ‘mess’, a ‘wreck’, or ‘off their rocker’, as it were. But because something’s hurt them dearly and they’re vulnerable, so they’ve come seeking help.”
Vulnerable. Seeking help. That was much better, much kinder. Hay, it was more considerate on the whole.
And it lined up well with that creed etched into the woodwork above the gate.
“To judge by heart and not by kind To treat all equal, turn away none To open our hearts and minds And that no creature will be shunned
"So that no creature be alone These are the rules which we abide To make a haven, and a home For everyone who seeks Respite.”
Words written ages ago by Queen Serenitatem, the founder of Respite, herself. A creed the Caretakers had crafted out of the lessons learned from their time in the company and alliance with the Sainted Ones, a time when they lived in a crystal paradise full of love and happiness, and entered an age of prosperity never seen before.
Or since.
Vulnerable and seeking help, yes. That was quite in line both with the trade and their creed.
And, as a mare of Respite, her creed, now.
Sure Stroke kept quiet, watching carefully as Faith resumed organizing their monthly calendar. Among the names, she could pick out a few she recognized here and there, some villagers, some newcomers from that group session they’d hosted. Sleet and Snow Flurry, both to her relief and a hint of sadness, had an appointment coming up next Thursday—relief in that they felt comfortable enough to return, sadness for rather obvious reasons.
Then, another name seemed to leap off the page. She squinted, leaning in close as if she thought it to be a trick of the light.
It wasn’t. “Altocumulus?” Sure Stroke whispered.
Faith turned to smile at her. “Yes, your cousin did a lovely job with his painting the other day. Though he was a bit tight-lipped, to say the least, on what was bothering him.” She sighed and shrugged. “A bit disappointing, but nothing I’ve not seen before. He tasted a bit …” Pausing a moment, she rolled a hoof through the air in a forward circle. “Melancholy, would be the best way to describe it.”
“About what?” came the question. Wracking her brain a moment, she tried to think back and recall if she’d had the chance to steal a peek before the group had taken their artwork home. She hadn’t. Alto had tucked it under his wing, the canvas facing in so none could see, and scurried back to the house he shared with Maple. “I didn’t get to see what he’d painted.”
“It was quite a lovely scene, but he was rather vague about what it was exactly.” Pursing her lips, Faith again looked off to nowhere in particular and thought hard. “It was some of cloud—you’ll have to forgive me, I don’t recall the species even though he told me several times. My mother never could quite get those to stick, I’m afraid.” Her cheeks colored a deep black, she coughed into her hoof. “In any case, it was a lovely little scene with a cloud and a rainbow waterfall off the side, but that’s about all I could tell. Perhaps a spot back home he used to visit?”
Sure Stroke hummed a low note in affirmation. There were several spots throughout the cloud city with such landings, each with rainbow falls as well. It was part of the old architecture, culture steepled with over a thousand years of warrior tradition and a firm belief in the intrinsic beauty of the weather. If the unicorns could show their magic in each stone and archway in Canterlot and the earth ponies in the sprawling towns and hoof-tilled soil, the pegasi would do the same with that which inherited from their ancestral homeland.
And Alto made habit of visiting several over the years, and would carry on about how the clouds spread out across the horizon, or the sunset looked in the distance. Though, most often, he would whine that there wasn’t a nice, big storm below for him to look down upon and watch as the weather teams literally kicked them into gear. But that was just the thing—Alto thinking about cloud scenery and weather was like a fish swimming.
It was a constant truth of the universe. But it didn’t tell her why he needed another session.
“He didn’t tell you anything?” Sure Stroke asked, just to confirm.
Faith shook her head sadly. “Just that he felt like drawing clouds because they always made him feel better. I asked him if he and Maple were doing well, just because I know some young ponies tend to retreat to something they know for comfort when relationships sour or hit a rough patch.”
“And?” Her soft violet ears perked up. A cold tightness seemed to grip her chest.
“I don’t think I’ve seen him look so alert any time other than a major storm or Maple sneaking up on him,” Faith replied with a bit of a chuckle. “He told me of course they weren’t having problems, scolded me for even thinking such.” Waggling her ears, she gave a fanged grin and added, “I even got a lecture on how sweet and pure Maple was. I never knew.”
That certainly sounded more like the Alto she knew and loved. Evasive about one thing, overly detailed about another.
Just not weather, for once.
Perhaps she could arrange to sit down with them during that session and see what was eating at him.
“Speaking of melancholic pegasi,” Faith mused. “Personal worries? I know evasion tactics when I see them, young mare.”
Sure Stroke ducked her head. “Am I that transparent?”
“I raised two troublesome nymphs and I’ve served as a therapist for years, Sure Stroke. You may as well have put up a sign. That said—”
Three loud, short knocks upon the front door drew their conversation to a sudden halt. Faith’s ears twitched. “Hold that thought.” She rose from her pod seat and set her pencil down on the coffee table, her brows furrowing as she trotted over to greet their visitor.
While Sure Stroke didn’t rise, she did turn in her seat and lean to the side, curious to see who might have come to call upon them. Unfortunately, her seat was just out of the line of sight of the door, so all she could really get was a glimpse of Faith’s braided golden tail, shimmering in the sunlight, and her left leg.
“Oh, hello, Snow Flurry!” she heard Faith greet in a warm, friendly tone. Her ears twitched and wings nearly unfurled in shock. “I didn’t expect to see you by today. How are Sleet and the fillies?”
“They’re, um, doing well.” Again, Sure Stroke’s ears twitched, this time at the hesitance in the mare’s voice. “I just wanted to stop by for a bit and see if that young mare was around. Sure Stroke, I believe. We’d met during the celebration as well.” A cough sounded, then she added, “Or if you might know where I could find her?”
Faith let out a hum. “As a matter of fact, I do. She’s—”
“Right here!” Sure Stroke called as she hopped out of her seat and hurried around the corner to stand in the entry way with her mentor, and aimed a smile at Snow Flurry. “Hello! Yes, sorry, we were just looking over a few things. I didn’t expect you today, Snow Flurry.”
“Er, just Snow is fine, Sure Stroke.” Snow Flurry’s ears drooped. “I didn’t realize I was interrupting something important. I could come back later, if that’d work better? Or maybe just … schedule something?”
“We were just looking over the schedule, actually,” she replied with a smile. “I think other than that, this was meant to be walk-in time, right, Faith?”
Her mentor’s brows raised. “Indeed,” Faith replied with an approving nod. Then she turned to smile at Snow Flurry. “So no harm done at all. If you’d like, I could offer use of my kitchen. You’re both welcome to anything in the cupboard if you’re hungry or thirsty. For a tad extra, of course.”
A tad extra, meaning love. A note which made Snow Flurry’s smile falter. She’d paid for the last session with bits, still uneasy about love.
A flash of pink heralded a tiny frown. “Er, bits would work also,” Faith amended. “Just enough to cover the next market purchase, I mean.”
“Oh! Oh, thank you,” Snow Flurry replied, breathing a relieved sigh. “Sorry. I know you mean well, it’s just—”
Sure Stroke stepped closer and patted her shoulder. “We understand. Faith’s family helped me get over my awkwardness about feeding too. Along with Queen Euphoria and her partners.” Smiling brightly, she gestured back out the door, toward the sunny afternoon. “How about we take a walk? Or a flight? Whatever you like.”
To her delight, Snow Flurry’s ears perked up and wings rustled the instant the word “flight” passed through her lips. The mare ducked her head sheepishly. “Flying around the Nimbus Heights with Sleet and … flying together around our old neighborhood always helped me clear my mind,” she corrected herself.
“Well then.” Sure Stroke slipped by and motioned for her to follow her down the porch steps and into the warm sunlight. “Let’s take a little flight around the village.”
Twin shadows of pegasi seemed to race along the calm surface of Lake Neighagara, vaulting over fishing boats and ponies alike, who made sure to look up and wave at the pair above.
Sure Stroke took extra care to keep pace with Snow Flurry as they neared the northern shore, just west of Neighagara Falls, but allowed the mare enough room so she didn’t feel crowded. A good couple wing lengths, maybe even a third, off her right side was suitable distance, enough so that she could keep an eye for signs that Snow might be ready to talk or struggling.
Or nearing a breakdown. Faith had hissed something about a patient once having such an episode in mid-air. It took the combined efforts of Queen Euphoria’s therapy sessions and Cool Breeze’s flight rehab to get the poor mare to a state she could fly without a panic attack.
And, thus, how Morning Dew fell in love with the pair, she mused with a hint of a wry smile as she began to bank wide toward the Falls, stealing the chance to get a full look at her flight companion’s face.
Snow Flurry banked with her, but she seemed more like she was just going through the motions. The mare bit her bottom lip, her gaze altered between the lake below and somewhere off in the distance. It was like her body was present, while her mind was a hundred miles away.
Though, if Sure Stroke had to hazard a guess, it was back in whichever house her family was staying. Back wherever Sleet awaited her return.
With a small smile, she decided to channel a bit of Esalen’s precociousness, and make the first move. “Would you like to land?” she asked, waving at the little clearing near the Falls nestled in a covering of trees and foliage so no curious eyes could see or think to eavesdrop. The very same Aspire had taken her for their first date.
The perfect place to talk and let the mare get things off her chest without fear of being overheard or judged.
Nodding, Snow Flurry altered her path, turning northeast so she could lead Sure Stroke into the clearing. They hit the ground in a brisk trot, the soft, untrodden soil and warm grass tickled against Sure Stroke’s frogs in a most pleasant feeling, and spurred memories of that date, and several others shared on this same spot.
For Snow Flurry, she pushed them aside and focused. Sure Stroke chose a spot on the grass to sit, then rested back on her haunches, motioning for the other mare to join her. “So,” she began, “what’s on your mind? Has everything been okay since our last session?”
“As a matter of fact, yes.” Snow Flurry bobbed her head. “Sleet has been … well, she still hovers a little around the girls, but I didn’t expect one session would just fix everything like magic, of course. And she still has her moments from time to time, and keeps trying to keep them out of sight of the girls.”
“But they notice?” Sure Stroke guessed.
The mare sighed and let her wings droop. “It’s hard to miss. I love Sleet and I’d do anything for her, but she’s got a terrible poker face,” Snow Flurry replied. “It’s not much for Hail or Sunshower to notice one of their mothers sighing and looking out a window, even if she forces a smile.”
This was good at home? Sure Stroke fought back the urge to cringe. “I’m sorry to hear that. Is there anything I can—”
“She’s been talking a little more, though.”
Her thoughts ground to a halt. Blinking, Sure Stroke tilted her head to one side. “How do you mean that, if you don’t mind my asking?” Arching a brow, she asked, “Had she not been very talkative before?”
Snow Flurry shook her head. “I didn’t mean at all. Sorry. She’s never been shy about talking, but with feelings so close to home …” she trailed off, her eyes fell to the grass beneath her rump. “She tries to hide it behind a smile, or compensates by hovering around Hail Storm and Sunshower and me like she’s afraid somepony—someone—might take us away next.”
“Ah. I see.” The pieces began to come together. The pained look as she leaned down to nuzzle their manes and whisper in their ears, how she pressed against Snow Flurry’s side and wept during their art therapy session, right after painting that empty cradle.
Then how frantic she’d been during the long night …
A shiver ran through Sure Stroke’s body. Banishing the memory to the back of her mind, she forced herself to hold a sympathetic smile. “So, she’s opening up a little more?”
“A little would be generous, but yes,” Snow Flurry replied. A tiny, crooked smile tugged at her lips. “I don’t know if I should be telling you this, but we both sort of had a bit of a time on Sunday. Ended up shooing the girls off to go play with that nice foal—nymph, I meant—nymph they danced with. Cordial, I think?”
“Cordial Tidings, yes.”
“Thank you. He’s a sweetheart, that one. So caring and polite whenever he visits. The girls just adore him.”
A sweetheart? Cordial Tidings? Sure Stroke chuckled under her breath, a fond smile playing upon her lips. We’ll see if she thinks so if he ever decides to slip blue dye in her tea like he and Flit did mine a few months ago. The little jerks. “I’m glad to hear they’ve made friends so soon. It took me a while to adapt and join in.” She reached over and patted Snow Flurry’s hoof. “But that’s a tale for another day. How was your talk after they left?”
Her feathers ruffling, Snow gave a rueful smile. “It took some time, there were more than a bit of tears shed. On both our counts. But, she talked about how she was feeling, finally. About Warm, about Cold, how afraid she was. It was painful. But good for her, I think.” The mare clutched a hoof-full of grass and twisted it. “I … well, you heard from Sleet how much Cold and Warm meant to her. But our husband was … well, he was our world. Always there when we grew up in Nimbus Heights, there when other relationships soured, when we graduated from university, you name it. And even after we decided to try the three of us, and convinced him it could work, he was our rock whenever the weather went wild and turned foul.” Pausing a moment, she sniffled and brushed the back of her hoof across her face. “When we lost him, I just went numb. Sleet took on looking after the girls and Cold and trying to keep me stable, bottled it all up as best she could so somepony in our house would smile and be strong for the others.”
With every word, every breath, Sure Stroke felt a cold lance pierce her chest and dig deeper, twisting this way and that. Habit demanded she speak up, but her throat tightened and silenced her voice before she could even choose the words.
If she even could’ve chosen words in that moment.
“Cold was like his last gift to us,” Snow continued, barely above a whisper. “He had his daddy’s eyes, his face, his coat. Her nose and mane, though—powder blue with goldenrod coat, if you’d believe. But still beautiful.” She fell silent a moment, her shoulders shook as she squeezed her eyes shut. “I wish he could’ve come with us and seen this place.”
Stab. Twist.
Sure Stroke gently brushed her hoof against Snow Flurry’s blue-white coat. “I think I can say all of us would’ve loved the chance to meet him,” she said softly. “I’m so sorry for your losses, Snow.”
“Thank you.” Another sniffle. The mare wiped her hoof across her face again to chase away unshed tears. Drawing in a deep breath, she held it and let out a slow, heavy sigh. “I can’t pretend I feel the same pain as Sleet in losing him, since Cold was her foal by birth, but I won’t lie and say my heart didn’t shatter when that doctor told us they couldn’t save him. It was like everything hit at once, first Warm, then Cold, and just as I managed to get my head above water, I had to catch Sleet before she drowned in grief. Not to mention the girls.”
By love, only a few months after losing him. “You’ve been strong for the three of them,” she noted. “You were strong for them the first day here, too.”
“I wasn’t sure how long we’d be here—I’m still not.” A visible shudder ran through her body. “They need friends. Thank Celestia for that boyfriend of yours, or they might not have met Cordial.”
Her feathers fluffed despite the dour mood. Sure Stroke patted her shin and said, “I’m sure he’d be happy to hear he helped.” Something nagged at the back of her mind, the conversation with Aspire under her old sketching tree.
The day she’d laid everything out and asked that he look out for Hail and Sunshower.
Biting her lip, Sure Stroke let her eyes flit away. “I should confess at this point that I talked to him the other day after your therapy session.”
Though she wasn’t looking, she could feel Snow’s eyes upon her again.
“I, um,” she trailed off, her hoof leaving Snow’s for the first time since their talk began. “He’s their teacher, so I wanted him to look out for them. Just to be sure someone was there for them while you and Sleet were getting help.”
“I see.” Snow Flurry gave a low hum. Unsure, no doubt.
Sure Stroke turned to face her again, and hastened to ease her worry. “He won’t gossip or spread things around the village, I promise. His mother is Faith, he and Esalen know better.”
“His … sister, right?”
“Yes, that’s the one.” With a shaky smile, she added, “The only one he’ll tell is Abacus, his mentor, since they both teach the class. The village takes this sort of thing seriously. Very seriously.”
Snow Flurry gave her wings a nervous rustling, but nodded. “I understand. Thank you, then. For asking him to look out for my girls.” After a shaky breath, she added in a whisper, “And thank you for the other day. I know it was only a little, but it helped my wife start to open up again.”
The knife in her chest seemed to draw back just a little. Enough that she could feel a little sliver of relief fill the gaps.
But there was one thing still worrying her. Something she’d noticed during her first therapy session day, and confirmed a moment ago.
She shifted closer to Snow Flurry, moving into a kneeling position so she could look into the mare’s eyes. “I’m glad I could help her,” Sure Stroke said. “But now, I think there’s someone else who needs to learn that it’s okay to open up again.”
Blinking, Snow Flurry made to draw back. “I’m sorry?” It must’ve been habit, a trained response honed so her family would only see her smile falter for a split second. “I don’t—”
“If I may,” Sure Stroke interrupted, “I may be new to this, but it seems like you and Sleet both have a habit of putting on a face and trying to hide how you feel when the other is hurting. Trying to protect them, at the cost of your own pain.”
“That’s … part of being in love,” Snow Flurry whispered. “I owe her this after how she helped me. She needs the help, not me.”
The knife twisted further. “Yes. Yes, she does. But so do you.” Sure Stroke squeezed her hoof in comfort. “You both do. And it’s not a bad thing at all to admit it.”
Again, Snow Flurry shifted, her gaze fell to the grass again. “I can’t. Not yet.” She shook her head. “Sleet needs me to be strong this time.”
“You can let it out. Right here,” she whispered. “Sleet won’t have to see or hear.”
Uncertainty flashed across her face. Snow Flurry’s ears splayed and laid flat against her mane, and she hung her head low. But she made no move to refuse or speak up.
Which left it up to Sure Stroke to pull her in close and hold her tight. She could feel the tremble in Snow Flurry’s shoulders, the unsteady breathing in her chest. “It’s okay, Snow,” she said. “You can let it out.”
The dam burst mere seconds after the words had left her lips. Tears of grief and agony unmatched stained her violet coat, a pair of hooves clutched her tight around the shoulders, enough to rob her of breath.
None of it mattered.
Nothing could compare to the pain the wailing mare in her hooves had felt for so long.
They stayed in that clearing together until just after noon. Sure Stroke never once left her patient without at least a hoof held in comfort, nor did she deny a hug when needed.
Esalen and Toola shared amused, sidelong looks, the latter biting the inside of her cheek to try and hold back a fit of giggles as the stallion before them tried his very best to look imposing.
Oh, if only Esalen didn’t now Vector to be that same little colt at heart who once slept with his favorite green blanket and plush bluejay until he was eight—and still had that precious little bird, as far as she knew.
“I believe we’ve done this dance a couple times now, Zippy,” Esalen drawled. She cocked her head to one side and arched a brow. “I’m not feeding on any of the guards who comes. Not until you’re all rested and don’t look like the walking dead after being on alert and double drills for so long.”
As she finished, she flicked her tongue, her lips twitching into a half-smirk. A bit of burn and spice of Vector’s irritation, but hiding a bit of whipped cream flavor. Humor.
Vector had never been one to shy away from such banter.
“We’ve been off alert for three days,” he countered, tapping a hoof to his chest. “I’m not in the Lovegiver Corps, so I’m not exactly needing to rest and restore that or my vitality here.” Vector flicked his wings, a teasing show as Esalen had learned from Sure Stroke. “And other than some aches, that’s it. So, non-issue, as your pest of a brother would say.”
Esalen waggled her ears. “Three days after two and a half weeks? Hmmm, what do you think, Toola?”
“I think Vector’s a silly featherhead who really oughta rest some more!” Toola replied. With a wink, she added, “Or he should realize that the big, strong stallion posturing doesn’t work when I’ve seen him snuggle with Baby Blue!”
“Hey!” he barked, flaring his wings. “You leave Baby Blue out of this!”
Baby Blue! So that was the little bluejay’s name! Adorable, even now.
Still, a bit stiff to bring up in conversation for teasing. Thinking it? Sure. But leveraging it to clip his wings? Toola was just asking for him to turn around and ask about one of her old toys.
That was a fight Esalen had no intent of watching.
She gave Toola a little bump of the shoulder, leaning in close to whisper, “Ease up on Baby Blue. You know better.”
To her credit, as soon as the words left Esalen’s lips, Toola winced and ducked her head. She did know, and she was mare enough to feel it hit square between her shoulders. “Sorry, Vector. Just funning a little.”
The stallion gave a discontented grumble, but nodded once. “Yeah, I know. It’s fine.”
“I know. It’s my fault for bringing her up.” A rueful smile made its way across her features. “Still, though. You can’t just jump back into giving love like you’re wanting. You need to recover your strength, Zippy. Rest up a little more.”
Before he could argue further, Esalen closed the distance between them and put a hoof on his shoulder. “Come back in a couple days and let’s see how you’re looking,” she said softly. “I won’t take bits today. If you look good and aren’t feeling as much lingering aching or tiredness, I’ll take a meal. Call it a delayed trade, if you like.”
The stallion wrinkled his snout, thinking over the offer. “Two days,” he replied with a flick of his tail. “Muscle aches don’t count.”
“There’s workout aches and tired aches—if you feel the latter, I’m not feeding. And don’t you try lying.” She stuck out her tongue and waggled it at him. “I’ll know.”
“Yeah, yeah, emotion tasting and coyness. I know.” With a playful roll of his eyes, Vector leaned in and nuzzled Esalen’s nose, then turned and gave Toola a little one as well. Any and all offense forgiven with ease. The bonds of trust and years of friendship on open display.
Vector turned and made to trot out of her office, his tail swishing merrily, a testament to the victory he’d won, delayed or not. Feeding his friends had always been something he held in high regard, like some sacred duty of his as a pony of Respite.
To some degree, he matched quite a few others in the village in that thinking.
As he took his first step out into the main room, Vector lingered a moment, his wings twitching. Then, he turned to look over his shoulder, his bottom lip held between his teeth.
“Thanks,” he muttered after a moment. “Not just for the message, but to both of you.”
Toola blinked and cocked an ear. “For what? The massage? You know we’re all happy to help here, Zippy.”
“No—well, yes, that too.” A hint of rosy pink bled into his face. “Looking out for me and not letting me push it when I’m tired. Even though I’m stubborn and mouthy.” He offered a crooked smile and added, “You’re both great friends.”
“Any friend would, Zippy.” Toola pranced her way over and bumped her nose against his. “Now go rest up. Or at least go eat.”
His smile grew into a wicked grin. Vector nipped at her nose, snickering at the squeak and flailing of limbs as she reared up and stumbled back into Esalen’s embrace. With a cheeky raising of his brows and ruffling of his feathers, he slipped out and dashed through the lobby faster then even Toola with her boundless energy could recover and spring after him in chase.
The mare could do little but stop at the door, her ears bristling at the sound of his receding mirth. Her face reddening and cheeks puffing, she cried out, “Zippy, you jerk! Just you wait until I get my hooves on you!”
Esalen sucked in her lips, her shoulders shook with restrained laughter as she called her girlfriend back and threw a hoof across her shoulders. “Let him have that one,” she chided, pressing a kiss against the corner of Toola’s mouth. “You earned it with the Baby Blue comment, I think.”
A grumble was the only reply forthcoming, earning a chitter and another peck to the corner of the huffy mare’s mouth.
It was enough to draw a hint of a smile to tug at those sweet lips. “Still gonna get it,” Toola mumbled. “Gonna make him stretch and twist him like a pretzel like your brother used to.”
Oh, dear. Hiding a grin behind her opposite hoof, Esalen nipped her cheek and said, “Well, remember he’s a guard now, giggle box. Chances are that he’ll tie you in knots.” She paused a moment in thought, then added, “And see how flexible you really are.”
Her comment earned a wicked smirk and gleam in those eyes. “Who said I meant wrestling? I’m gonna trick him into a yoga session!” Toola practically sang. She turned, flirting one of the curls of her tail beneath Esalen’s nose. “Do we have anyone else today?”
“Er, not that I know of.” Esalen cast a quick glance over at Caress’s half-open door, just in time to hear a client’s pained hiss taper off into a moan of content as her mentor’s expert touch worked their muscles free of aches. “Caress? Do we have anyone else?”
“Not unless there’s a walk-in!” Caress called back. The changeling leaned back to glance through the doorway at them, a smile playing upon her lips. “I heard Vector’s grumbles. Did you refuse a feeding again?”
“I did. Zippy’s still too tired and needing rest for my taste. Told him to stop by in a couple days and I’d collect my meal.”
Her mentor gave a nod, beaming. “Good girl. We want happy, peppy clients leaving, not dragging their hooves. Especially not a guard.” Caress’s gaze flitted back to her own client. “Ah! Excuse me, Mister Palmetto! My pupils just had to check on our schedule—girls, if you don’t mind hanging out just a bit longer in case a walk-in comes, I’d appreciate it!”
“You got it, boss-bug!” Toola snapped a quick salute and adopted her best stony-faced guard look—which was to say, a frown with puffy red cheeks and poorly restrained laughter that lasted all of half a second at most before her mask faltered.
Esalen shook her head. “I don’t know what I’m going to do with you, giggles.”
“Love me? Hold me? Kiss me tenderly under the moonlight?”
“Oh, stop it, you!” The changeling swatted her tail across her girlfriend’s nose, her smile robbing it of any heat. Then, she began to trot toward the door leading out into the lobby, a happy little bounce in her every step. “Come on and sit out in the lobby with me, trouble. We can talk and greet them ourselves.”
A merry giggle and hurried thudding cadence before Toola brushed a shoulder against her flank and laid her cheek upon shoulder filled Esalen’s heart with warmth.
Such a little pest. But her very favorite pest.
Esalen eyed her girlfriend with a deep frown, a low, discontented grumble built within her chest and deepened as her bright, sunny smile bloomed into a full blown grin. Worse, when she dared to waggle her brows and ears in perfect synchronization.
Clearly, the answer to her current problem wasn’t that move. A fact she realized as she drew her hoof back and away from the table, glancing at the game board through squinted eyes. She was losing. Badly. And if she didn’t figure something out soon, she’d find herself owing Toola more than she already did.
Really, she didn’t mind the promise of a date by the lakeside—what sane mare would mind such a request from her girlfriend?—the massage, or a return to Manehattan to walk around and visit Toola’s old neighborhood and maybe take in a show or two. A full weekend in her hometown? Happily accepted.
But this latest request …
A tremor one part nerves, one excited anticipation ran down her spine. Esalen ran her tongue along her lips and tried her best to swallow any purring which threatened to escape her lips. Or whimpering, for that matter.
To think such a giggly little thing could be so talented at chess. It boggled the mind, even now, after years of knowing the village’s bouncy, cartwheeling mare’s inexplicable affinity for the game.
Not to mention all the years of losing to her. Horribly.
Just as she was doing right this moment.
“Only a few moves available!” Toola sang, tilting her head from one side to the other with every syllable. “Sure you don’t wanna just give up and let me put you down for a session at home, Essy?”
Visions of herself stretched into all manner of awkward, complicated positions danced in her head. She’d joined Toola for a few of her personal routines before, and, well, Esalen could honestly say their clients would never see so much as a hint of some of the wackier side of things her lovely little mare was capable of performing.
Which made that promise to get Vector tied into a pretzel if she could con him into a session all the more real, and made Esalen wonder just what sort of fate the mare could be planning behind that false mask of innocence.
Innocent? Toola? Esalen nearly laughed. She could see the gleam of wicked delight, utmost glee shone and danced in her sky blue eyes like flames. Toola most certainly wanted this win. Of that, there was little doubt.
And that she could put Esalen in such a hopeless position in the game made her taste quite deliciously of love, mirth, and immeasurable joy, enough that the changeling would’ve just loved to throw the board aside, dragged her into a hug, and nibbled her ears until she squealed and agreed to let her have a nice, long drink.
Of course, if she threw the board, she’d be resigning the game, as was the rule in Respite.
An agreement to play with stakes was held with the same respect as a deal between parties—cheating, reneging, and backing out in the middle of things wasn’t just frowned upon, it was tantamount to sacrilege. The Sainted Ones certainly would’ve found such things unacceptable.
Still, she needed a way out, and it didn’t look like she had one on the board. Unless …
Across the table, Toola hummed and leaned forward, eyes wide and ears standing straight up, eager to see what she might dare try to stave off a loss one turn longer. And tasting positively smug and knowing about the whole thing. She knew.
Toola knew each move Esalen could make, and how to counter them. There was no choice, no escaping.
With a defeated sigh, Esalen flopped back in her pod seat and waved a dismissive hoof at the board. “I submit. You win again, gigglebox.” She closed her eyes, throwing a foreleg across her face as she cried, “I am but a poor, innocent changeling, now a slave to the whims of a giggly little gymnast!”
“Giggly little gymnast with a changeling girlfriend to stretch with at home!” Toola corrected, her happy bouncing heralding a little rubbery noise as the pod adjusted to her every motion. As Esalen cracked open an eye to fix her with a glare, she was met with a hooded smirk and slow lick of Toola’s lips. “You’re just gonna love what I’ve got in store for you!”
The sudden taste of cinnamon spice dancing upon her tongue made her face fill with a deep blush. Esalen swallowed, wasn’t this supposed to be her thing?
The chime of the clinic’s door bell served as her salvation from any further teasing. Esalen sat bolt upright and Toola swallowed her giggles long enough for both to scramble to their hooves and turn to greet the newcomer with bright smiles.
Sure Stroke stood in the doorway, sunlight wreathing her mane like a halo, and blinked before offering them a tired smile. Her eyes flitted to the chessboard and back, comprehension dawning across her face. “Oh dear. Suckered you into a game?” she asked, her voice tinged with mirth. “How many and what did you lose this time?”
With a groan, Esalen fell back onto her seat and laid her hooves over her face. “Too many.”
“Enough!” Toola replied. A quick flurry of tapping against the wood told of her happy prancing in place. “I get a lakeside date, a fulllllllll massage, a trip to Manehatten, but most importantlyyyyyyy~!” she trailed off into a hushed whisper, meant for Sure Stroke alone to hear.
A sigh escaped Esalen’s lips. She pinched the bridge of her snout, humming a low note and shaking her head as she listened to the oh-so-lovely sound of her girlfriend’s hushed, giggly whisper, a bark of laughter from her best friend.
“Oh, wow!” Sure Stroke said. “You really did win big—and you get to take charge of the session?”
“Mmhmm! Can’t wait to cash it in!”
Her ears burned. Slowly, Esalen drew her hoof down her face and fixed them with a look.
The mares beamed back at her, waggling their ears, and Sure Stroke happily fluffing her feathers despite the slight sagging in her posture.
Sagging? Sure Stroke?
Esalen blinked, the burn beneath her carapace evaporated. She rose from the pod seat, her face a neutral mask so not to seem so invasive. Or, perhaps more to the point, not so much like she was ready to pounce and hit her with a flurry of questions.
Tired or not, a defensive Sure Stroke meant a stubborn Sure Stroke—and stubborn pegasi were a right pain in the fangs to deal with on a good day.
Given the tiredness showing in her eyes, even with that bright smile she shared with Toola, it had been quite the morning for her mother’s protégée. Not to mention how she so embodied that aforementioned stubbornness.
“What brings you here, Doodle?” she asked casually.
“Oh! Um, just a bit of an off morning is all!” Sure Stroke’s smile faltered a touch, her ears began to droop but a fraction before she affixed them back into position. “Not that big a deal!”
Long had it been since Faith taught Aspire and Esalen that nifty little trick to poke the tip of her tongue between their lips to sneak a quick taste. Oh, Sure Stroke could try to hide it on her face and in words, barely even a lie, actually. Misdirection. A little note of cunning any Caretaker would approve.
Until they noted that subtle taste of rotting fruit—anxiety and pain—hidden within every word.
Of course, Esalen couldn’t just press it without turning her away or triggering that defensive response. As fun as it could be to needle the pegasus and wheedle what she thought was hidden out when they were younger—well, just that.
When they were younger.
What kind of friend would she be if she discounted Sure Stroke’s feelings as some sort of little secret to pester her to speak?
“Well, you’ve come to the right place for unwinding after a long day,” Esalen said aloud. She waved the mares through the door and followed along to close it behind them, then nodded to each of their rooms. “What kind of unwinding would you like—massage or yoga?”
“Yoga!” Toola chirped in her stead. “Essy’s been hogging Zippy for weeks! You’ve gotta try one of my therapy sessions!”
With a roll of her eyes, Esalen nipped at her ear. “I’ve only been ‘hogging’ him because he’s had muscle aches. You’re welcome to take him next time he comes in if you like.”
“I might take him then, but I wanna take Doodle now!” Toola spun on one hoof to aim a pitiful pout at Sure Stroke. “I promise you’ll love it and feel great after! I don’t make clients do my routines or anything that hurts—it’s cleansing!”
Cleansing? Esalen wasn’t entirely sure of that description, but considering her massages were meant to refresh and revitalize, she could hardly deny it. Come to think of it, yes, there was that sort of feeling after she’d joined in a practice session or two before they’d been official apprentices under Caress. And with all the work they’d been doing with Vector and the guards, and listening to some of their griping about aches and concerns for security …
Maybe she could use another session herself. If anything, it’d give her a chance to hear what was eating her friend.
And, on a slightly more selfish note, it’d prepare Esalen for whatever Toola had in store for her.
“That’s a good idea, actually,” she put in with a smile. Esalen brushed a shoulder against Toola’s and said, “I’d like to join, if you two don’t mind. We haven’t really hung out since our trades started, aside from eating together at home.”
Sure Stroke shifted from one hoof to the other, her bottom lip held between her teeth. “It couldn’t hurt,” she muttered, flicking her tail. “Celestia knows I could use something to help me unruffle my feathers.”
Scarcely had the words left her lips before Toola squealed and tugged them both along by their hooves, all but dragging them toward her room. “I’ve got the perfect routine in mind! You’ll both just love how it feels afterward!”
Esalen could only turn to share a nervous smile and laugh with her old friend, earning a little shrug in reply as they both hobbled on their free three legs to keep up with the excitable mare.
It was time to see just what was eating their happy, doodly pegasus.
It didn’t take empathic tasting for Esalen to see how Sure Stroke’s troubles ate at her, nibbling piece by piece like a school of fish eating bread off the surface of Lake Neighagara.
Two and a half years had taught her much about the pegasus’s body language. It wasn’t so different than the average pony—their ears and eyes always betrayed their feelings, no matter how they tried to smile and keep their shoulders squared to pretend everything was just fine. All of them did it, with some slight variation.
The pegasi, however, were the easiest to read. Their wings never failed to betray their hearts.
And Sure Stroke’s dusty violet wings sagging, hanging just a touch low against her sides before she would try to force them to fold tight and affix that smile to her muzzle were as plain as the lights in Manehattan.
Esalen frowned as she followed along with Toola’s warm up stretches. She blew a deep breath through her nose, fighting back a bit of a grimace as she arched her back like a cat and tried to look up toward the ceiling. Not an easy task when she was trying to glance sideways at Sure Stroke.
That fake smile faltered, whether to melancholy or the effort of the stretch itself, Esalen couldn’t say without tasting her emotions.
“Breathe, Doodle,” Toola instructed gently. The bubbly mare was in her element, yet, quite oddly enough, not so giggly or teasing.
Rather, she was a lot like Caress. Careful, patient, and just a bit subdued, but with a hint of forcefulness to her tone. That sort of confidence in knowing which muscles were worked by each stretch, the importance of breathing and calmness, and how to nudge a pony along.
A sharp, deep inhale made Esalen flick an ear. Sure Stroke closed her eyes, blowing a breath out her nose as she lowered herself to lay on the yoga mat.
“Take extra time when you do these back stretches,” Toola said as she deftly spun about to face them. “Especially you, Doodle. Pegasi tend to get a lot more tension because of their wings and you know all about what happens when those are injured.”
A ghost of a smile flitted across Sure Stroke’s features. “Yeah,” she murmured. “Mom was always really big on that.”
“Wish she’d have drilled it into Zippy a bit more, eh, Essy?”
“His were workout and fatigue aches,” Esalen replied with a wave of her hoof to banish Sure Stroke’s worried glance. “Nothing major.”
“Oh.” Sure Stroke let out a sigh and shook her head. “That makes sense. I’d imagine the guards are just now getting a break after the Long Night.”
Humming, Esalen nodded. “He’s been visiting pretty often.”
“Almost daily,” Toola corrected. She shifted into what she called the table position, a weird stance on her forehooves and hind knees, and motioned for them to follow. “How about you, Doodly-Doodle? How’s art therapy been treating you?”
Just as quickly as relief flashed across her face, Sure Stroke’s fell once more. She fidgeted in position, her wings rustling as though she were uncomfortable.
Esalen poked the tips of her tongue out and masked a grimace at the taste. Abandoning pretense, she turned to gaze into the side of her friend’s face. “Are you not enjoying it?” she asked.
Sure Stroke shook her head so fast her ponytail whipped about. “No. I mean—I don’t enjoy seeing ponies or changelings suffering, of course. Who would?” The mare flashed a thin, uneasy smile. “I like the helping part, though. It’s rewarding, and a bit gratifying in its own little way.”
The changeling’s grimace threatened to twist into a frown. That sounded like something her mother would say when trying to hide her mental exhaustion from her nymphs. That want to assure them, yes, she enjoyed what she did even if she loathed to see her clients in pain.
Something to do with those “helping” trades, if Esalen recalled. A mental state that had the tendency to eat away until those in the trade felt they just couldn’t cope.
But normally, that was after constant exposure to seeing clients or patients suffering some maladies. This soon?
More than likely, Sure Stroke was in a bit of a shock seeing ponies and changelings dealing with such issues. The poor mare had always been rather sensitive.
Which Toola knew all too well. “But,” she supplied as she guided them to stick their left hind leg out and roll back on it.
Sighing, Sure Stroke hung her head and said, “I guess it didn’t quite dawn on me that listening to their problems could be so taxing—no, that’s not quite the right word.” The mare shook her head, her wings rustling. “I don’t know how to describe it. It’s just … hearing them talk about their problems can just make me feel like mine don’t compare.”
There it was. Just like Esalen once heard her own mother bemoan to her father out on the pod couch one night, when they thought she and Aspire had fallen asleep.
She stopped her stretching and reached over to give Sure Stroke a firm poke to her shoulder. “Comparing your problems to someone else’s is only going to lead to you feeling low, Sure Stroke.” Esalen furrowed her brows. “Everyone has problems they deal with. Just because yours aren’t as bad as others’ don’t make them any lesser.”
“For the longest time, new ponies thought I was bullied because Nimmy and the others loved to tickle me,” Toola threw in. “Sure, it can get annoying when I’m having a bad day, but I also know it’s my sister and my friends trying to cheer me up and think about something else. Took a while to get a few of them to understand that I liked it.” Pausing a beat, she glared at the pair. “If either of you tell Nimmy or the boys, I’ll … do … something. I’ll do something and it will be unpleasant!” she declared with a wild wave of her hoof.
“Oh, love no.” A wicked grin spread across Esalen’s face. She shared a quick wink with a giggling Sure Stroke and said, “I’ll just save that for the next time you’re a whiny, sleepy Toola in the morning.”
The look of utter dismay coupled with the heavy blush coloring Toola’s cheeks a deep read drew a fit of chittering and laughter from Esalen and Sure Stroke. They grinned and waggled their ears as Toola buried her face in her hooves and cried, “Noooooooooooooo! You can’t!”
“I can.”
“She would,” Sure Stroke added. “And so would I.”
Toola gasped and peeked through her hooves to huff at Sure Stroke. “Traitor!”
“Oh, please. That ship sailed years ago. Besides, you turned on me first, gigglebox, so don’t even try that routine!”
“Two and a half years ago! And you were a shy, skittish Doodle!” The mare goggled at Sure Stroke, then turned an incredulous look upon Esalen. “Back me up here, Essy! I did her a favor!”
Esalen wisely held up her hooves, a playful smirk spread across her features. “I’m not fool enough to get in the middle of your tickle feud,” she teased. “But let’s get back on track here.”
“Oops! Right, sorry!” Toola rubbed her mane and gave her tail a nervous flick. “Anyway, they used to think me getting tickle attacked almost every day was a problem. Which, I thought was silly because they were coming to Respite for their own problems, and those were way bigger than me being tickled on days I didn’t really want to be. I ended up talking with Faith and Queen Euphoria about it, and they sat everyone down and had a talk with all of us about how whatever we felt was important to recognize and understand, no matter how small it seemed compared to others’ stuff. And then mom told Nimmy to not tickle me when I really meant no, so it all worked out in the end.”
Not quite comparable, of course. A fact Esalen could see reflected in Sure Stroke’s eyes without need for tasting. But so too did she see how her friend took a moment to consider the words, her right hoof tapping a little rhythm against her mat and feathers twitching.
So something was eating at her on top of that stress she was dealing with in trying to help her clients. Esalen might not be the type of changeling to try her fortunes at Las Pegasus, but she knew where to put her wagers.
With the exception of doing so against Toola Roola in chess. It was a fool’s errand, but she’d get a win. Someday. Eventually.
Maybe.
She shook her head, scolding herself for drifting off course again. She was indeed a betting changeling and she knew just where to put her proverbial bits.
“Is this about how Enticier sounded in his letters?” Esalen asked. “Or are you worried about how Aspire took it when he saw those last couple?”
The slight drooping of Sure Stroke’s ears confirmed it. She sighed and let her wings sag so her feathers splayed out over the mat and wooden floor, and gave a solemn nod. “Yes,” she murmured. “Both, really. Enticier’s our friend, of course, and I hate to hear he’s going through such a difficult time. And Aspire …”
Esalen could hardly blame her friend for how she abandoned their stretching and let her gaze fall to the floor. Her brother, Sure Stroke’s boyfriend, was a snarky, smug little punk who loved his terrible jokes, winding his loved ones up, wrestling, and kissing his girlfriend until she squirmed and fluffed her feathers so.
Aspire subdued and melancholic? Only twice in her life could she recall him being in such a state.
It was no coincidence both times came when they were forced to say goodbye to Grandma Cloudfluff and Grandpa Beguile one last time.
With a mouthed apology to Toola, Esalen abandoned the stretch routine so she could slide over to place a hoof upon Sure Stroke’s shoulder. “He didn’t react the way you’re used to,” she supplied.
Sure Stroke gave a shaky nod. A solitary tear rolled down her snout and hung precariously from her nose. “How’d you guess?”
“I’ve known him literally my entire life and his, so I know how one might expect him to react to that.” She heaved a heavy sigh. “Unfortunately, I also know that’s exactly how he’d react to something like what Enticier’s dealing with and how he tried to hide it.”
Her friend gave a snort mixed with a choked sob. The tear fell and splattered upon her yoga mat. “I’ve been together with him for two years and I’ve never seen him so upset.” Sure Stroke brushed the back of her hoof across her eyes. “Between Enticier and a couple of my clients, I feel like my heart’s been put in a vice already. Aspire, though …”
Toola slid over and settled on her opposite side. “You don’t have to explain it.” She nuzzled Sure Stroke’s cheek, pausing to give a chaste kiss. “It’s not easy to hear that a friend is hurting, or see it.”
“Or my brother,” Esalen added. “I’m sure they’ll be fine in the long-run.”
She felt the smile tugging at Sure Stroke’s lips, just a hint of sweet, delectable joy played upon her tongue.
Sighing, Sure Stroke slid a wing up to wrap around them and held them in a close embrace. “Thanks, girls.” She brushed a hoof across her eyes again and sniffled. “I guess I just wish I could do some silly, Doodly thing and make him happy.”
With a small, supportive smile of her own, she leaned her cheek against Sure Stroke’s and said, “Well, maybe not a silly, Doodly thing this time.” Esalen turned and gave an affectionate lick, then whispered in her ear, “But I think a nice, sweet, loving Sure Stroke thing might go a long way.”
Those dusty violet ears perked. “I can do that.”
“Oh, honey.” Esalen chittered and nuzzled her cheek once more. “There’s no better mare for the job.” She paused a beat, then grinned and nosed the mare. “Now, come on. If we don’t finish this yoga routine, Toola might get whiny and huffy and I won’t be allowed to tickle it out of her this time.”
Toola didn’t cry out, she didn’t huff. Instead, she simply looked over and gave a dangerous smile which promised retribution. Then, dotting Sure Stroke with another kiss to her cheek, she stood and trotted back to her mat. “Yes, let’s continue. And then, we can head home and discuss the terms of Essy’s loss.”
A shiver ran down the changeling’s spine.
She’d definitely pay for that crack later.
There was indeed something cleansing about following along with Toola’s yoga routines, in a sort of esoteric sense that the scientific couldn’t quite cover. More than just the lactic acids being worked from the muscles through the use of slow, selective stretches and deep breathing, but that sort of feeling of finding one’s center and using it to banish all stress or worry.
This, Esalen felt herself as she walked home with Toola and Sure Stroke by her side. Sure, her own worries and stress weren’t quite as great as her pegasus friend’s, it did help to let those of seeing the parade of Village Guards worn ragged as they came in off patrols and drilling for treatment.
Especially Vector, the stubborn fool.
She tugged the front door open with a deft flick of her magic and bade the mares enter first, earning herself a little kiss beneath her jawline and a flirt of Toola’s curly, tricolored tail beneath her chin.
In broad daylight, no less! Someone was looking for a bit of trouble all her own.
Or, Esalen realized, Toola had every intent of making sure she got as much out of her winnings as possible.
She swallowed a mouthful of slime and promptly cursed overactive glands and their tendency to act up when she got nervous. Changelings were supposed to be the teasing, flirty ones, darn it!
Someone had clearly forgot to tell the likes of Toola Roola, Cool Breeze, or even Sure Stroke.
Esalen managed to beat back a heated flush beneath her cheeks as she stepped inside and pulled the door shut, just in time to see Toola and Sure Stroke standing together in the living room, looking down at Aspire’s sprawled form laid out across the pod cushion.
Her brother lay with a hoof thrown across his face, covering his eyes as best the hole-ridden limb could. His messy blue mane looked more disheveled and unruly than ever, and his lips seemed tugged in a tired frown. Worry creased his handsome cheeks in such a way that drove a lance of pain through her chest.
She knew why.
But that didn’t make the taste of angst and worry upon her tongue when she flicked it to confirm any easier.
As the door latch clicked into place, Aspire’s ears twitched once. He lifted his hoof and raised his head just slightly off the pod couch so he could greet the mares with a tired, forced smile.
Esalen sucked in a sharp breath through her nose. She’d always hated that one, even more than the smug smirk he wore before telling some terrible joke or pun.
“Hey, girls,” he slurred, rubbing his eyes. Pulling a face, he opened his mouth wide and let his tongue loll as a rolling, chittering yawn forced its way from the back of his throat, then smacked his lips. “Sorry. Must’ve dozed off.” Aspire sat up, blinking owlishly to chase away the remnants of sleep, and offered that same weak smile to Sure Stroke. “How was work with mom today?”
Sure Stroke didn’t answer quite the way he expected. Instead, she stepped forward, a small smile spread across her features and leaned in to nuzzle his nose. Her feathers fluffing, she took another step forward, gently pushing him back to lay on the couch until she could slide herself onto the gelatinous pod and lay herself atop him.
He blinked again. “Uh … Sure Stroke, what—”
She silenced him with a kiss. “Tiring,” the pegasus murmured. “Good tiring, I think. I helped someone. But now, I’m home.” She kissed him again to forestall any comment or question he might concoct. “And I’m with you, and tomorrow we’ll see Enticier and everything is going to get better.”
Worry flitted across Aspire’s face once more. He wrapped his hooves around her, almost as a want for security as that to hold his girlfriend close, and buried his snout in her shoulder. “Yeah, I hope so.”
Sure Stroke leaned back and cupped his chin, forcing him to meet her gaze. “It will be.” Another kiss, followed by a slow, affectionate lick to his nose. “He’ll be fine.”
He drew in a shaky breath and made as though to speak, but faltered. For once, he was at an utter loss for words.
She didn’t let him linger on it. Sure Stroke pressed the advantage, shifting her weight forward and cupping his cheeks in her hooves so she could plant a flurry of fluffy, sweet kisses upon his lips, his cheeks, even his jawline. Her wings unfurled and feathers fluffed as she trailed her primaries up his sides, spurring a little gasp and shiver in his hind leg.
Aspire’s hooves tightened around her, a deep, contented purr rolled in the back of his throat as he moved to return her affections with vigor. His dour mood evaporated in the face of Sure Stroke’s love.
It took no small bit of self-control for Esalen not to give a happy purr of her own. This, she decided, was right and good.
Her world was in balance.
At her side, Toola Roola leaned over to nose against her cheek, pushing her down the hallway to their room. “You schemer,” she whispered once they were out of earshot.
Esalen flicked an ear and hummed. “What ever do you mean?”
“Don’t give me that.” Soft lips pecked just beneath her jawline. “I saw that look in your eyes in my office, and again just now. You were scheming the whole time you listened.”
A wise mare, her love. Far wiser than most would give the bubbly, bouncy little thing credit for.
The changeling stopped and turned, stepping into Toola’s path so they were nose to nose. “Clever mare,” she purred, grinning a fanged grin at how the mare’s breath hitched and cheeks flushed. “A changeling is always scheming. Me? More than you know. My loved ones’ happiness is always high on my list.” Esalen flirted the tips of her forked tongue across Toola’s lips. “The three of you, at the very top.”
Toola swallowed a lump, her ears splaying as a smile spread with her growing blush. “Y-You’re off the hook tonight,” she squeaked.
“Am I?”
“Just tonight! The rest of the week, though, no freebies!”
Fixing her girlfriend with a half-lidded, smoldering look, Esalen turned her head and leaned up to lick the tip of her ear. “What if I insist that you reconsider and show me a taste of what I’m in for? I’m very curious.”
Lost wagers or not, Esalen was quite pleased to claim victory on the most important battlefields—a happy couple putting aside their stress and worry for the time being and her personal treasure blushing, stammering, and beaming eagerly beneath her gaze.
So she was the same greedy changeling she’d always been in that regard. Could one really fault her for such a crime?
The first wild storm of summer rolled through the Neighagara Forest region the very day Aspire and Sure Stroke set out to meet up with Enticier.
As a Cloudsdale-born filly from Thunderbolt Heights and the daughter of a Weather Factory worker, not to mention the cousin of a stallion obsessed with such wild phenomena, Sure Stroke had always loved storms. Whether a short drizzle or a torrential downpour, thunder rumbling in the distance or the full force shaking the very clouds beneath their hooves and lighting the lower altitudes like a series of strobes, there was always some solace, some warmth it brought to her heart. And why shouldn’t it?
Storms were a force of nature tamed by pegasus magic. A testament to their tribe’s strength and ingenuity. Sure Stroke would’ve been utterly stunned—appalled, even—to find one who didn’t see it so.
Which only made the slight creeping of melancholy and worry into her chest, that sinking feeling like rising floodwaters dragging her to the depths, all the more visceral. More entrapping.
And realizing so only seemed to add weight around her ankles and pull her deeper into its depths.
The young mare sighed as she looked out the window, the chugging morion of the train jostled and rocked her against Aspire’s side. Even in her dour mood, she couldn’t help but love the way those heavy cumulonimbus clouds blackened Princess Celestia’s day like a shroud, or how the heavy rain flying diagonally across her vision as the train sped on its way, a few beads rolling along the glass as if they hoped to join the passengers on their journey.
“I would’ve really liked to see him on a sunny day,” she murmured with a heavy sigh.
A warm hoof covered by pale orange pony coat wrapped around her waist, pulling her close and into a tender embrace. She felt him nose against her, a tiny frown tugged at her lips as she felt the distinct lack of fangs and angular, chitinous snout.
Just when had it been that she found herself more longing for his natural form than his favored disguise?
Aspire nuzzled her cheek, a tuft of his fiery red mane tickled just beneath her eye. The smile upon that coltish face of him was warm and welcoming as a fire in midwinter. “What’s that about sunny days?” he asked softly.
Sure Stroke turned, forcing a tiny smile in kind. “I said I would’ve liked it to be sunny today,” came her reply. She pecked his lips softly, adding, “It would’ve made seeing Enticier again a bit more happier. At least in mood. I thought he could use a bright day, maybe a walk around the city to cheer him up.”
Slowly, that warm smile he’d inherited from his father fell. In its place, a sad frown spread, one that just didn’t seem to belong.
The sight made her chest ache. “I’m sorry.” Sure Stroke turned to return his nuzzling, dotting his nose with a kiss by way of apology. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“You didn’t—it’s not that.” Aspire breathed a sigh through his nose, shaking his head. His eyes flitted to the window, lingering on the rain as hers had just a few seconds prior. Her loving boyfriend chewed on his bottom lip and said, “I feel the same, in a way, I suppose. And I’m just worried about how he’ll be when we do get to see him. Seeing him hurt was never something I …”
He trailed off, his lips quivering as though he were simply unable to voice the thought. Then, Aspire closed his eyes and let his head fall to rest upon her shoulder.
It hit her then. He was physically unable to give it voice. The mere thought of hurting Enticier, or seeing him in such a state, shook her smug, snarky, book-loving changeling boyfriend to his very core.
Sure Stroke’s mind wandered back to that fateful night—the night she looked the Prince of Enchanters in the eye and turned down his offer for a visit to Paradise, his hive’s Respite and the nearest embodiment to the notion of perfection in existence. It had been she who made the decision, not Aspire.
Aspire had worked it that way deliberately. Not to hurt Enticier, never that. It would surprise her if he would’ve ever wanted so, unless he found his longtime friend in the act of putting her under his charm. But in that instance, no.
It was something else. Not a want to hurt him or put all the weight on her shoulders, but to spare Enticier’s feelings and hope to maintain a friendship.
At least, that’s what she’d thought since that night. Seeing him now, however …
Seeing him now, Sure Stroke just couldn’t help but wonder if a part of Aspire’s design hadn’t been a little selfish—would it be so wrong to presume he wanted to spare himself the sight of his oldest friend so wounded by a heartfelt rejection?
The young mare filed it away for later. Perhaps a discussion for after they made sure Enticier was well.
Or well enough, at least.
“Did I ever tell you what made me choose this form?” Aspire mumbled, barely loud enough for her to hear.
Sure Stroke felt her heart leap into her throat. Quickly, she shifted so she could glance about and make sure no one had entered the car. Reading stories was one thing, but talking about forms—had he lost his mind?
To her relief, there was no one. The car was as empty as when they’d first entered.
Thank Celestia for small mercies. With a sigh of relief, she nuzzled into his mane and murmured, “No, you never did.” Sure Stroke kissed the top of his head, just beneath his horn. “Tell me how?”
“Enticier.” She could feel his lips tickle against her coat as they tugged into a fond smile. Aspire shifted so his cheek laid upon her shoulder and gazed up at her through those warm orange eyes. “You’ll remember, of course, I was always good at imitating other ponies. A few missed details here and there, little things that only another changeling or a pony in the know would think to look for—no offense to you at the time.”
Sure Stroke rolled her eyes, but smiled all the same. “None taken, you dork.” Leaning in close, she nuzzled his cheek. Her eyes, however, still flitted about. Someone had to keep watch. “So, how’d Enticier help you pick this one, then?”
The disguised changeling heaved another sigh. “Good as I was at imitating at a young age, I had trouble creating a disguise from scratch. Changeling brains are built to keep an image in their head, you see, but my problem was that I’d start questioning the image and adjusting on the fly. You can imagine how that went.” He paused to laugh at the way she wrinkled her snout. “Yeah. That’s about right.”
Just thinking about it made her feathers bristle. She could picture him now—one minute, the handsome unicorn with orange coat and fiery mane laying against her shoulder, the next, a little flicker of doubt in that mental picture made his hips shrink as if someone let the air out of him, until he was wider in the shoulder.
It was enough to draw a snort of laughter despite the mood.
Aspire smiled and leaned up to nuzzle beneath her chin. “Laughing at me? I ought to take issue with that, I think.”
“Only a little.” She pecked his snout. “About as much as you laughed the first morning I woke up wrapped up with you and panicked.”
“Fair enough. Anyway.” If he still had his wings, Sure Stroke imagined they’d give an awkward little buzz. “We were coming up on a trip to Manehattan. The problem was that I was still struggling with getting my disguise in order, so mom and dad were thinking about cancelling. Essy—well, understand, we were little, so it’s not so much that she’s selfish as it is how little ones are.”
Sure Stroke frowned. “She blamed you?”
He nodded. “Yeah. We had a fight about it. Like I said, just stuff little nymphs and foals do.” Shrugging, he said, “Queen Lilith and Enticier were in Respite to visit about a week before we were supposed to go. Mom, dad, and Essy all figured we’d be cancelling our trip, and I was feeling depressed about the whole thing. Enticier picked up on that right away. Told me he didn’t need to be able to taste my emotions to know something was eating me, and said if I didn’t tell him, he’d kiss it out of me. Just teasing, I think.”
Another snort. Sure Stroke could only shake her head. Of course Enticier would say that. As for whether or not he meant it, well, that would just depend on how upset Aspire had been at the time.
Though if it really was that bad …
Had the Prince of Tricksters turned his own flirting into a means to jolt his crush out of a funk?
“I didn’t even shove him away, funnily enough,” Aspire continued. “I was so upset, I just kinda told him I was a terrible changeling and that he should find someone else to kiss.”
Smirking, Sure Stroke kissed him again. “He didn’t like that, I take it.”
This time, he snorted. “Oh, love no. He bit my ear, dragged me down to the lake, and tossed me in, then told me to take it back or he’d just throw me in again.” Aspire sat up, lingering close so he could gaze into her eyes. “Sort of like a certain sweetheart pegasus of mine a couple years ago, now that I think about it.”
Her cheeks burned rosy pink. “Sh-Shouldn’t we be focusing on this story?” she squeaked.
“Mmm, probably.” He leaned in and nipped her eartip, nuzzling it softly. “After he dunked me a couple times, I told him what was bothering me. He sat me down and decided to give me some pointers, told me a few things his mother taught him so he could pick his own disguise.”
Aspire laid his head atop hers, drawing a tiny frown. It just didn’t feel right without his fangs teasing her mane.
If he noticed, he paid it no mind. “He told me to keep the body closer to my own in terms of build. Height, weight, everything. Keep it like it is naturally, that way you have most of the picture in head, and all I’d have to worry about would be my fangs, my wings, and my color. It worked like a charm! Essy and I ended up going to Manehattan and having the time of our lives.” She felt his lips press against her head, lingering just a moment. “You’re wondering why these colors instead of my own, I take it?”
“That was on my mind, yes.”
“Heh, I thought it might be. The answer is simple—I was looking at Enticier when I shapeshifted. I always thought his mane was a nice shade of orange, and with his eyes it was kinda like a fire.” Aspire ran an orange hoof through his mane.
A gesture not without meaning.
Her eyes widening, Sure Stroke let her mouth fall open. “His colors. All these years, you’ve been walking around in his colors. Even when you said he was a pain.”
Aspire bowed his head, his smile turned rueful. “Yeah.” He let his eyes close slowly. A nervous shiver ran through his body as he murmured, “Little nymphs like me are dumb.”
Whether he meant because of his choice of color or how he once spoke of his old friend, he didn’t say.
It wasn’t needed.
Sure Stroke cupped his chin and drew in close, pressing her lips against his in a sweet kiss. When they parted, she said, “He’ll be fine.”
His hoof trailed up her foreleg to grip her wrist and squeeze it tight. “I sure hope so,” he whispered in reply.
By the time the train eased its way into the station with a screeching of brakes and hiss of steam, the storm had mercifully weakened to a dull drizzle. Sure Stroke sniffed at the air, the fresh scents of ozone and rainwater brought a hint of a smile to her face. In that scent, she could tell this was no delivery from Cloudsdale—it was a wild storm.
One that rolled in from the Canterlantic Ocean. No doubt the Manehattan Weather Team had been hard at work taking the edge off of it before it made landfall. Just enough that it was a nice, manageable storm rather than a summer squall.
Unfortunately, it came with the added affect of making the platform wet and muggy. So much so that it made her mane frizz and curl up like it were trying to form a big, fluffy purple ball.
Sure Stroke huffed a breath through her nose and brushed her mane out of her eyes, glaring up at it as if daring her bangs to defy her whim once more. “Did he say where he’d meet us?” she asked, turning to look up at Aspire.
“Said his train got in an hour or so before ours and that he’d be waiting for us on the platform.” Her boyfriend let his eyes flit about, his right foreleg bouncing as he searched for their friend. The platform wasn’t exactly crowded, but Manehattan Central Station was by no means small. “Keep your eyes peeled, I guess.”
With a low hum of assent, the young mare turned to search out a schedule board. A thought crept into her mind. Might Enticier’s train have been delayed by the storm?
The Manehattan Weather Team would certainly mind the edges immediately impacting the city and the suburbs, but if the storm system was big enough, it might have stretched them too thin if they tried to mind the whole front. If what she remembered from her father’s talks on storm triage were right, they’d concern themselves with the parts that would hit the densely populated areas first and only move outward if they had the time.
If they had the time and the bulk of the team didn’t just collapse from exhaustion, that is.
Colorful bodies of ponies disembarking or hurrying to make it to their connection only made her task all the more difficult. Sure Stroke blew a frustrated breath through her nose and tried standing on the tips of her hooves.
It earned her a wonderful look at a few ponies’ heads instead of their chins. And the back of one rather burly red stallion’s straw colored mane.
Why did she have to be so darned short?
With a roll of her eyes, she nudged Aspire’s shoulder and murmured, “Hold tight a second, I’m gonna get a look.”
“Huh—wait a—”
She took a little leap, then pumped her feathers once and took to the air, gliding over the crowd.
Thank heavens for high ceilings.
Sure Stroke landed just on the other side of the crowd, her violet tail flicking in agitation. “Swear that stupid board was around here somewhere.” The board or Enticier, one of the two would be nice to find. Suddenly, her ears twitched, a realization hit her like a bolt of lighting between the ears. There was a problem with her grand design.
Rather, a gaping flaw, when one considered she was seeking out a changeling in the middle of a crowd of ponies in Manehattan, and she didn’t even know his preferred disguise!
“Oh, billowing blizzards!” she snapped, stomping her hoof. Her ears splayed, she could feel a few stares from traveling ponies sent her way, but paid them little mind. A low growl built within her chest as she finally found the schedule board and scanned it for arrivals. How was she supposed to find Enticier if she had no idea what he even looked like.
Better still, what station was he even coming from?
Sucking in a sharp breath through her nose, Sure Stroke brought a hoof to her face. She dragged it down her snout slowly and aimed a glare at the offending board as if the mere heat might persuade the letters to morph and form the message “Enticier’s train! Right here!” Alas, bending reality to her whims wasn’t a gift bestowed on any pegasus she knew of—let alone herself.
After a few seconds of trying to glare the board into submission, she felt a presence to her right—like someone had just sidled up and decided to stand there, quiet as a mouse, and wait for her to turn and take notice. A little game the villagers, especially the changelings, so loved to play.
Unfortunately, Sure Stroke wasn’t much in the mood for that game today. With a huff, she turned to greet the new pony with a short order to go pester someone else.
Instead, she was met with a crooked smile full of nervousness and just a hint of warm familiarity. The stallion before her—well, handsome didn’t quite do him justice. His mane, two-toned black and gray, was styled with a bit of a bouncy fluff in his bangs, and his coat was a deep sky blue, with just a hint of powder or sugar blue to it. A lovely blue she could’ve sworn she knew well. The stallion was just about as tall as Aspire—much to her chagrin—with a bit of a lighter, more … dare she say pretty look to his features?
He was the sort of stallion Sure Stroke had seen some of the younger fillies and changelings look at in magazines and giggle over, the sort other mares would gawk at and whisper to one another while they watched him from afar.
In fact, quite a few were doing just that.
But a look into those eyes was enough to promptly derail her thoughts. Those eyes … there was only one stallion who had eyes like that. Only one with eyes that shade of blue.
In his natural form, at least.
“Sorry I kept you both waiting,” the stallion greeted in Enticier’s familiar, rich tone. He shifted in place and chewed on his bottom lip, only then did Sure Stroke notice the verdant glow wreathing his horn and the tray bearing three plastic cups floating just over his shoulder. “I thought I’d pick us all up some tea so we could warm—oof!”
Sure Stroke caught him in a tight hug, causing him to take a step back to avoid falling, and squeezed him for all he was worth. She pressed her cheek against his and nuzzled, letting out a happy nicker and fluffed her feathers even as she felt those mares’ stares turn hot and baleful. The young pegasus didn’t care—and why should she?
They just knew him as some fresh eye-candy who sauntered onto the platform at the right time. They didn’t know the smooth-talking, flirtatious sweetheart of a changeling he was at heart.
The Prince of Enchanters chuckled and wrapped a hoof around her neck. “I’m glad to see you too, Sure Stroke,” he said softly. Enticier dared to nuzzle her cheek, his breath tickling her coat as he drank in her scent like he were returning home. After a moment, he drew back to survey her at length. “You look well. I trust our dear smug bookworm is treating you well.”
Bookworm instead of bookbug. Clever.
“He has.” Sure Stroke beamed. “He’s caught in the crowd, I just flew up to take a look at the board and—”
“Did it without knowing you were coming from Brittle Bridle Station,” Aspire chimed in as he trotted up behind her, an amused smirk playing upon his lips. “You silly Doodle.” He pecked her cheek, then turned to offer a smile to his old friend.
There was heavy silence, broken only by the steady drum of rain and the shuffling of hooves all around them.
Drawing in a deep breath, Aspire closed the distance between them and wrapped Enticier in a one-legged hug, murmuring something in his ear that Sure Stroke couldn’t quite make out.
Enticier ducked his head just slightly. A hint of red colored his cheeks. “I, er …” His eyes flitted about as if he’d only just noticed the crowd. With an awkward little cough and shifting of weight, and drew back from Aspire his gaze finding Sure Stroke for the briefest of moments. A move which drew a confused look from Aspire himself.
She drew in a breath. Something was very wrong.
“M-Maybe we should go find someplace to sit and talk,” Enticier muttered as he floated each their drink. “With fewer eyes and ears to interlope.”
Sure Stroke blinked. Then, slowly, she turned to share a look with Aspire, a heat rising in her cheeks.
He did have a point. Just how bad would it be if they started talking about the state of Paradise where a bunch of ponies could hear?
Fortunately, she and Aspire knew a pair who would be happy to give them a safe haven for their chat.
“C’mon,” Aspire said with a little jerk of his head toward the door into the station. “I made some arrangements with Haberdasher. We can hang out at his place.” He snaked a tendril of magic around his cup and took a sip, offering a little smile before turning to beckon Sure Stroke. “After you.”
Plucking her cup out of the air, Sure Stroke dotted his nose with a kiss, then unfurled her wings and wrapped one around his shoulders. With her other, she brushed her feathers against Enticier’s back before draping it across in a loose, friendly embrace.
Both of her boys under wing. If a bit awkwardly so with their height.
“Haberdasher’s it is.” Then, she fixed the pair with a playful glare. “In the meantime, who in Celestia’s name said both of you could get taller than me?”
For once, she found the wicked grins shared by those changelings in disguise a small comfort.
“I can’t thank you and Haberdasher enough for letting us meet here, Bright Sky,” Sure Stroke said, hugging her fellow pegasus tight as they stood together in the kitchen. Her ears stood erect, ready to listen out for the familiar whistle of the kettle.
The older mare waved her off with a smile. “No thanks necessary. After all the help the Caretakers have given us, it’s nice to be able to give a little back.” Her smile faltering a touch, Bright Sky leaned in to murmur, “Er, correct me if I’m wrong, but when Aspire mentioned his friend in that letter, he meant the actual … you know?”
Sure Stroke nodded once. It must have been a bit striking to realize one of the changelings masquerading as a pony in your home was royalty. That it was Enchanter royalty, was another level.
She could almost see her fillyhood self in the expression which flitted across Bright Sky’s face. Fear of Enticier’s charm, no doubt.
Best to allay those before she got too worried.
“Prince Enticier, yes,” Sure Stroke replied. Before Bright Sky could question it, she held up a hoof. “He’ll behave. He’s not here to charm or look for companions. We just needed a place to meet and talk freely where, er, ponies not in the know might overhear.”
Bright Sky let out a relieved sigh and brought a hoof to her heart. “Thank you. I don’t mean to be … well, I guess I sort of do. Hab’s just told me a bit about the different hives, they’re one he actually dealt with, so—”
“Normally, yes, you might get a bit of it outside Respite. Not from him, though. Not this time, at least.” Certainly not in his state. “We’re holding a bit of an intervention for him, if that helps.”
Frowning, the older mare stole a glance through the door, into the room the disguised changelings had been ushered. “Is he harming himself somehow?”
A stabbing pain shot through Sure Stroke’s heart. Physically, he didn’t look it, but that rather went out the window whenever changelings were involved—they could look however they damn well pleased. Emotionally and mentally, though …
She swallowed a lump in her throat. It was Bright Sky’s home and she did deserve to know the reason they’d actually come.
Still, it was best to be diplomatic and not air dirty laundry that wasn’t hers to share. “He’s taken on a rather large load back home and we’d like to make sure he’s okay.”
“Ah. All right.” Releasing their embrace, Bright Sky took a couple steps back and rustled her wings. “Sorry, I don’t mean to pry, but even after a couple years knowing the Caretakers, changelings as a whole are still new territory. And since Hab’s made sure I’ve never met an Enchanter or a Locust …”
The kettle’s piercing whistle made Sure Stroke’s ears splay and wings twitch as if to unfurl. Tea was ready at last.
Which meant it was time for her to go join the boys and see just what state Enticier was in when he let that weak, straining smile fall.
Bright Sky turned away, trotting over to the stove to turn off the burner with a deft flick of her hoof. Then, she moved to retrieve the teapot and set about finishing preparations. “No need to wait on me if you’d like to go in and join them for that talk, dear,” she called over her shoulder. “I can get this set up and dropped off, then leave you all to it.”
That her heart seemed to dip toward the pit of her stomach only served to further dampen her mood. What sort of friend was Sure Stroke that she spent all that time talking up Aspire on the train and getting antsy to see Enticier in the station that she got skittish when it finally came time to sit down with him and talk?
Then again, what sort of friend actually wanted to see another in pain? Even if it meant helping them through it. Still, that was exactly what friends were meant to do, even if it hurt to see. And Sure Stroke wasn’t one to turn away from a friend in need. If the roles had been reversed, Enticier wouldn’t have bothered asking for a meeting in Manehattan.
He’d have simply appeared on their doorstep in Respite one morning.
The young mare held her head high and squared her shoulders, folding her wings neatly as she steeled herself for whatever she might hear. The blood of Hurricane’s legions flows through every pegasus, she reminded herself, that old saying still so dear to their hearts. Sure Stroke slipped out of the kitchen and trotted down the hall, pushing the door open with a little nudge of her shoulder against the wood.
Still wearing their pony disguises, Aspire and Enticier jolted from their spots opposite cushions, each breaking their awkward, silent staring contest to turn their attention to her. Their reactions—well …
Aspire’s posture relaxed slowly, a crooked, nervous half-smile playing upon his false face while Enticier looked for a brief instant as though the sun had come up before something hit him. Pain flashed across the young prince’s features for but an instant, then that strained smile from the station was back once more. Not at all the teasing, suave Prince of Enchanters she’d known for two years.
Just looking at the pair was enough to make her heart break. Her mouthy, snarky boyfriend who always knew what to say stricken dumb and looking so much like the ashamed nymph who’d frightened her in Neighagara Forest, and their old friend, a handsome devil of a changeling with a voice and wiles as smooth as velvet and a sort of dashing gleam to his eyes, gone and replaced by little more than a hollow shell with a wan smile and a tired look.
A tired look the likes of which no amount of changeling magic could hope to conceal.
Despite the ache in her heart, Sure Stroke offered her warmest smile to her favorite boys and moved to take her place at Aspire’s side, trailing her primaries along his back as she wrapped him in a feathery embrace and stole a quick nuzzle beneath his jawline. Enough to earn a smile and crooning, changeling purr.
Across the room, Enticier made a point to find interest in a potted miniature cactus resting upon the window sill.
Avoiding already. Sure Stroke did her best to keep her smile, but did give a little cough to draw his gaze. “How have you been holding up these past couple weeks?”
Enticier let his ears splay. “Not beating around the bush, are you?” he asked with a forced chuckle. “I sometimes forget how direct you like to be.”
“Would you rather I play coy?” she countered, fluttering her lashes.
Despite himself, Aspire snorted. “Choose wisely there, pal,” he teased. The first quip he’d made since their reunion.
Immediately, Enticier’s smile was gone. He looked down at his cushion and shook his head. “No, no.” The Prince of Enchanters swallowed, his shoulders slumped. “Direct is … fine. Just fine. I’m okay with direct. I’m okay with however you want it.”
Where was that charmer? Where was all that playfulness?
Sure Stroke shared a look with Aspire. In his eyes, she could see that pain and angst, the same as had been on the train, but just that much deeper. As if he were trying to ask what he’d just done wrong.
She could only glance from he to Enticier and back, and give a subtle shake of her head.
He bit his lip, then dared to let his tongue flick out, wincing at whatever he must’ve tasted. Aspire reached over and gripped Sure Stroke’s hoof tight. “I didn’t mean anything by it, Enticier,” he murmured. “I was only teasing a little.”
A discontented rumble rolled deep in the back of his throat, Enticier ducked his head and rubbed his shin. For Celestia’s sake, the changeling looked as though he might like to just curl in on himself.
Worse still, Sure Stroke could see how Aspire’s face fell as he took note himself. In a small voice, barely above a whisper, he said, “I just meant be careful because she’s gotten good at wordplay. I didn’t mean it as a threat or thought of a slight.”
“I know.” Enticier drew in a shaky breath, squeezing his eyes shut. “Just something I worry about. Especially with how things have gone in Paradise lately.”
Sure Stroke’s ears twitched. “Go on,” she prodded.
He blew a breath through his nose, burying his face in the cushion for a moment before grumbling something and looking up to meet their eyes again. “I suppose there’s no point in beating around the bush here. What with how easily he—” Enticier nodded to Aspire “—can taste everything I feel right now.”
“I’d rather you just be open with us because we’re friends,” Aspire said softly.
A ghost of a smile flitted across Enticier’s face. “We are, yes. But we’re also changelings. Easy answers aren’t exactly a thing with our kind.” He let his smile fall with a sigh. “And I suppose that’s my mistaken wording. I just meant there’s no sense in trying to downplay it with you face to face when you could both see through me from four hundred miles away.”
Bright Sky nudged the door open and slipped into the room at that moment, drawing all attention as she hurried in to deposit the tea tray in the middle of the group. She offered a nervous smile and mouthed an apology, then hurried out of the room as if she’d been bitten by a horsefly. Whether to return to the shop floor to help Haberdasher or out of some lingering unease toward Enticier, Sure Stroke wasn’t certain.
She could only hope it was the former.
Enticier, though, didn’t seem to mind the mare’s hasty retreat. He made sure to call out and meet her eye for a bare instant, just enough to nod and murmur a quick “Thank you for your hospitality.” Then, his horn lit as green as changeling slime as he took up the task of pouring and preparing their cups himself.
Though his eyes tracked the sugar, cream, and pot and cups, Sure Stroke could see his eyes glaze over and lose focus. Not so much like those ponies who’d slipped back into past trauma, but more …
It was like Enticier had been waiting for it. That he’d simply succumbed to exhaustion coupled with the relief at the chance to just let his mind wander in the midst of some simple task that only needed attention so long to spill and look up to ask, “How much sugar, Sure Stroke?”
“One cube,” she replied, biting back her usual quip about changelings ruining innocent cups of tea. The young mare accepted the cup with a smile and nod of thanks, carefully plucking it out of the air.
Sure, they’d had some on the way over, but at this point, she would stomach just about whatever would make him comfortable.
So when she took a long sip and looked up to meet his eyes once more, Sure Stroke was quite surprised to find him staring back, waiting for something.
That his smile spread wide and brilliant blue eyes filled with delight, flickering between sky blue and deep royal. “You didn’t say it,” Enticier murmured. “You kept that snarky little comment to yourself.”
“Er. Yes? This hardly seems the time.” Sure Stroke again turned to aim a confused look at Aspire.
He sat upright, his ears ramrod straight. Behind those fiery orange eyes, she could see the wheels turning in his head. A flash of pink ran along his lips, spurring a little spark, just a hint of that glimmer she so loved.
“Why is that so important?” Aspire asked, seizing on whatever he’d tasted as though it were a lifeline.
Enticier blinked. Slowly, he floated Aspire’s cup over to him, and hung his head. For a moment, he stayed silent, content to just stir his tea.
Then, he asked, “Sure Stroke?”
She nearly jolted off the cushion. “Y-Yes?”
“Do you remember when I wrote in my letter that we were dealing with something we were ill-equipped to handle?”
“You called it an unfortunate side-effect of your charms, yes.”
The Prince of Enchanters gave a mirthless smile. “You were right when you mentioned being uncomfortable two years ago, my dear friend,” he said with a sad shake of his head. “But in ways I don’t think either of us ever could’ve imagined.” Averting his gaze, he brought his cup to his lips and took a deep sip. “Honestly, I’m rather disappointed we Enchanters never considered the possibility. Hubris, I suppose one could call it, that our greatest gift caused our loves and friends so.”
Sure Stroke’s mind raced to piece together what he’d implied. The Enchanters’ hubris, their greatest gift turned against the ponies they’d charmed to cause more pain than they’d ever dreamed.
More than she’d thought when she refused his invitation three years prior.
It all hit her like a ton of bricks. The young mare brought her hooves to her mouth, gaping in muted horror. Those poor ponies! And the Enchanters trying so hard to help them—oh, they must’ve run themselves ragged!
She could almost see it. The panic which gripped Respite had no doubt been shared by pony and changeling alike throughout the land—from those living in the cities to those in the hives. For those who had been charmed so thoroughly to share their feelings without restriction and happily drank in that freedom and lived on the high of changeling love and endless pampering …
But wait.
“It’s just been very hectic here, and I’ve been running around a lot. Between ponies and my kin, I’m … I’m doing my best to juggle everyone and keep everyone’s spirits up.”
Her heart broke. No wonder he’d looked so tired, so pitiful.
No wonder he sounded so happy in his letter to hear that someone wasn’t falling apart at the seams.
Aspire rose, his face a mask of grief and sheer incredulity. “Why didn’t you say something?” he murmured, just loud enough to be heard. “We could’ve come up to help, Queen Euphoria would’ve sent aid as soon as we were certain things were safe in the village!”
“It wasn’t your problem,” Enticier replied simply. “You had your families and one another to worry about. I was just happy to hear you were all well.”
“It damned well is our problem!” Aspire snapped, his eyes flashing green for an instant. “Essy, mom, and I are part Enchanter, too! And you’re our friend, you idiot!”
His fellow changeling raised his head high. For a moment, he actually looked every bit the royal he truly was—that handsome, dashing prince Sure Stroke remembered.
When Enticier spoke, he did so slowly, his voice low and thick with emotion, “Then you’ll understand as a quarter Enchanter that I am the Prince of Enchanters. And like my mother and father and Queen Morrigan before me, I will shoulder any burden to keep my hive strong and safe. In mind, body, and heart.” He paused and drew in a deep breath. “Even if it means taking on their pain and yours as my own.”
Aspire sucked in a sharp breath, he gritted his false pony teeth and spat a curse, unable to counter the argument. His chest heaving, he turned away with an angry flick of his tail and glared at the wall.
All the while, Sure Stroke could only stare silently at Enticier. The little filly who’d met that dashing prince two years ago and stood frightened by his power, but transfixed by his gaze and honeyed words just couldn’t match them up.
That carefree, flirtatious nymph and this beaten down, exhausted changeling just weren’t the same.
And yet, weren’t they?
When hadn’t Enticier shown pride in his chance to serve his hive? When had he shown anything but pleasure at the prospect to take more upon his young shoulders?
Not once, her memories so helpfully whispered. Not even when he was turned down and told his way was unsettling.
“You still shouldn’t have hidden from us,” she whispered before she could stop herself.
To his credit, Enticier offered that sad smile again. “I’m sorry I worried you both, but I’m not sorry for what I’ve done for my hive.” He drained the last of his tea in a single sip and turned his gaze skyward. “I just wish I could think of a way to bring up the idea of changing things for everyone in Paradise so we avoid this without sending them all into a tizzy.”
“Why would change work them into a tizzy?” Aspire turned to level him with a curious look.
“Imagine if one day you and every other Caretaker in Respite suddenly could taste nothing but the negative feelings from your pony villagers and nothing you could do could make them stop feeling so miserable.”
Grimacing, Aspire shuddered and nodded once. “All right. I’m there. That was basically Respite during the Long Night.”
The Prince of Enchanters hummed. “I thought as much. Now, imagine after you’ve all been sick for days because that’s all you’ve been tasting and feeding and all the ponies have been fretting and just getting worse because they feel guilty for feeling scared and putting you through all of that, you come up with an idea to solve the problem—Caretakers don’t taste when they think their friends are feeling down.”
“No,” Aspire replied the instant Enticier finished speaking. “We’d never consider—” his eyes went as wide as dinner plates and shoulders slumped. “That’s … if I’m getting what you’re implying …”
“That’s not just a change,” Sure Stroke took up. She shook her head slowly. “You want to completely amend everything.”
“Yes. No. I don’t know. I just know I can’t watch my hive or our loves suffer like that again.” Enticier blew a sigh through his nose. “I won’t watch them suffer like that again. Sure, the idea will be called radical, even if I use one of the more watered down versions. But it at least warrants some discussion.”
Taking a step closer, Aspire leaned down to match his level. “It’s not my business to mess with or talk about Enchanter politics.”
“But you do anyway.” Enticier chuckled. “And you’re welcome enough, with your blood.”
“What you’re proposing isn’t going to be well-received if you just put it out there, even if you’re next in line for the throne.”
Enticier stayed silent. He closed his eyes and turned away, as if pained by the thought.
“What I have in mind won’t make anyone happy at first,” he muttered. “But, if it makes you feel better, I’ll keep it in my family first. Maybe we can see how it works with my sister-mothers. I don’t know.” Sighing again, he laid his head on his forelegs and grumbled, “Something needs to change.”
The boys’ faces fell. Aspire humming and tapping his hoof on the wood a moment, thinking the problem through as he was so wont to do.
Just like Faith listening to her clients, Sure Stroke realized.
“What I said before still stands, though,” Aspire said, finally. “You can always come see us, or ask us to come up if you’re feeling down.”
Enticier offered another of his sad smiles. “I couldn’t ask you to put up with me moping or come to Paradise just for—”
“Would you just shut up and take it? For love’s sake, I’m saying I’ll go to Paradise for you!”
Those words should’ve brightened up Enticier’s face like sunshine on a cloudy day. Sure Stroke knew that for certain, as sure as water was wet and grass was green in spring.
That a flicker of pain flashed across his features was just so wrong. But he kept his smile, still. “Thank you,” Enticier said softly. “I’ll try to be better about keeping in touch this time.”
“You’d better.” Aspire stepped close and, much to Sure Stroke’s surprise and delight, slid onto the cushion with his old friend and nosed against his cheek. “Or I’ll come up and beat your head in, you jerk.”
Laughing, Enticier turned to smile, making as though he had something to add, but bit it back. Instead, he moved to bump his nose against Aspire’s chin and turned his head so he could lean in and press their cheeks together. A gesture of love and affection in any culture.
One Aspire didn’t flinch or push away from.
Sure Stroke padded her way over and took the spot on Enticier’s opposite side, unfurling and draping her wing across her boys’ backs and bumping her forehead against his jaw. This was it. This was exactly what she wanted their time together to be.
This was exactly what Enticier needed after being put through the wringer in Paradise, and as he prepared to throw himself back into the fray.
Come to think of it, yes. Yes, actually.
The wheels in her doodly little head began to turn. Her friend didn’t need to be sitting and fawned over—no matter how much he might enjoy just being together.
Enticier needed something fun and they had until tomorrow morning before the train ride home.
Buck a thunderhead, we’re in Manehattan. Why the hay not?
“When your girlfriend said we should do something fun to break the mood and lift our spirits a bit,” Enticier murmured out of the side of his mouth, his voice barely audible over the constant rattling, clanging, and ringing of mechanized bells, “I didn’t quite have something like this in mind.”
Any other time, Aspire would have surely had some quip on the tip of his tongue about how the vaunted Prince of Enchanters should know well enough to always expect the unexpected. They were changelings, after all—surprises, trickery, and aversions were their forte. Not to mention, Sure Stroke had taken to culture in Respite like a duck to water.
Unfortunately, this time he just couldn’t do it with any semblance of honesty.
Not as the pair of disguised changelings stood side by side, staring bemusedly at the noisy, light-ridden scene before them. The change in scenery made possible by a charitable break in the storm, though the clouds hung heavy overhead.
Aspire could only thank the graces of evolution that the Enchanters and Caretakers had long since ridden themselves of the wide, blue eyes their ancestors once sported, with their legendarily comical sensitivity to light being one of the weaknesses the Founders used to drive them away. Otherwise, this would’ve been an absolutely horrendous experience. Pure torment of two of their key senses. Hell, just force him to down rancid fish and chase it with straight lemon juice while he was at it.
But, then again, what exactly else should any changeling or pony expect when they entered Grand Prize’s ridiculous three story arcade, lined with neon lights, arcade games dating back about twenty years all the way to present, and, of course, a bell above each which would split the air with its shrill cry should a player break the high score or collect the maximum amount of tickets.
Ah, yes. The tickets.
He’d nearly forgotten about those since they’d last visited Grand Prize’s Arcadopolis—yes, that was the actual name and one of the few deliberately bad plays on words which could make Aspire cringe. Truly, it a momentous occasion.
In any case, if someone managed to get enough tickets, they could march themselves along the length of the entire game room like they were making their triumphant return from battle, and visit the prize booth situated upon a dais which shone in alternating neon colors. And, behind the desk, looking down upon the players and staff like some gaudy monument to the stallion himself, was a gigantic portrait of Grand Prize, in all his slightly portly, pale gold glory, adorned with a black jacket and tie and matching top hat. Like he was some sort of game show host or a casino owner.
And with an ego and sense of bravado to exceed both.
Still, the Arcadopolis—Aspire suppressed a shiver at that blasted name—was definitely the premier arcade in all the eastern provinces. He and Esalen both had many a fond memory of winning some odd trinket after blowing hours on games, and rarely did a trip into that cacophony of noise and light end in disappointment.
But that didn’t exactly mean he expected Sure Stroke to suggest taking Enticier there to perk him up.
The little mare, however, either didn’t notice their surprise or simply paid it no mind. Sure Stroke bounced on her forehooves and looped a wing around each changeling, her feathers fluffing and tail swishing as she frog marched them forward to get in line for game tokens.
Aspire gave an uneasy laugh. Sure, he had fond memories of the Arcadopolis, but those were all … nymph days.
Back when he was a smug little punk who never knew when to shut up or quit while he was ahead. Not to mention how idyllic his entire outlook on things had been.
Or how unwittingly cruel he’d been to the changeling on his girlfriend’s opposite side.
He buried the pang of guilt which shot through his chest beneath a forced smile. “Er, honey?” Aspire rubbed at his cheek.
“Hmm?” She turned to tilt her head at him. “What’s up?”
Aspire shifted beneath her wing. “Are you, uh …” He glanced between the token counter and back, ducking his head to murmur in her ears. “When you said you had an idea to perk Enticier up and lighten the mood, I didn’t think either of us expected you meant the arcade.”
Sure Stroke’s ears twitched, a smile spread across her features. “Oh! Well, I just thought back to the times we went together with Essy and Toola a couple years back, and remembered it was pretty fun,” she said, both her eyes and taste telling of the pride in her plan.
“Ah, right, right. That we did.” A few such memories of the few times she’d joined flashed before his eyes. They’d been a right terror as a team at mini golf.
Slowly, her smile faltered. “Is something wrong?” she asked softly.
Of course it wasn’t. Aspire shook his head and, still leaning low, nuzzled along her snout. “Just me being silly. That sort of feeling lingering, y’know?”
Her brows raised, she inclined her head and gave a little hum of understanding. “I do.” With a wink and a quick hiss upon the tip of his nose, she slipped out from between the pair of changelings with surprising grace and moved forward in line. “I’ll get the tokens,” she announced. “Why don’t you two go find something to play?”
Aspire caught her intent. He returned her smile with a nod, then nudged Enticier out of the way so a family of four foals and their parents could hurry into line. “C’mon,” he said with one of his crooked smiles. “Let’s go find a game before she gets silly ideas like chasing us off like a bunch of foals."
A snort came in reply. “You think she’d do that here?” Enticier scoffed, even as he followed Aspire’s lead. “Also, why in love’s name was this her choice? I thought we were going someplace like … I don’t know, like a club or something.”
Aspire stopped and turned to fix him with a wry smile. “Two things,” he said. “First, if you don’t think she would, I’ll let her know and watch while she chases you around the block. Second, Ent, please.” He reached up and bopped his old friend on the forehead. “You know her better than that.”
His old friend blinked. “You haven’t called me Ent since we were little,” the Prince of Enchanters murmured.
“Would you prefer I go back to calling you a pest?”
A smile tugged at Enticier’s lips. “No. No, I wouldn’t.” With an amused shake of his head, he continued walking, leaving Aspire to hasten to catch up. “And why exactly should I know her better? I don’t spend near as much time with her face to face as you or Essy.”
That wry smile fell. Aspire sighed and allowed himself a dissatisfied rumble in the back of his throat.
“Oh, dear. Have I disappointed teacher?” Enticier teased.
A little parting of his lips to allow the tip of his tongue to peek between his teeth was enough to confirm the genuine happiness and playfulness in those words. His old friend had finally come to the surface.
“Teacher? No.” Aspire shook his head. “Me? A little, yeah.” He fixed Enticier with a meaningful look and said, “She loves spending time together with us. We both do, whenever you visit. This kinda just … I dunno, gives us the chance to play around and be close like normal without it being some crowded scene.”
Playfulness was burned away by the sudden teasing of minty surprise upon Aspire’s tongue, like one of Spearmint’s special namesake treats. A bit of satisfaction crept into his smile as he noted the way Enticier’s false blue eyes widened just a fraction, and that happiness within him billowed like the rising tides.
Enticier coughed and turned to look away, averting his gaze toward the games surrounding them.
Typical Ent, Aspire thought with a chuckle. Loves when he’s the one dishing out, but can’t take it in turn.
Sadly, his choice of reprieve was as bad as one of Esalen’s old excuses.
After a moment of desperate searching, the Prince of Enchanters’s awkward, wobbly smile gave way to a sheepish grin. “Er, Aspire?” he asked.
The schoolteacher hummed and allowed himself a knowing smile. “Yes?”
“I … have no idea what any of these games are,” Enticier admitted.
There it was.
Aspire waggled his ears. “Well, fortunately for you, I know just the one to start us off.”
“… Why do I get the feeling you’re going to pick one that makes me look silly?”
“Make you look silly? Ent, please, who do you take me for?”
It was a testament to the strength of their relationship Aspire didn’t take the slightest bit of offense to the flat look his old friend shot him in reply. Were it anyone else, he might’ve been hurt.
For half a second, at least.
“Ack! No, no! Oh, come on!” Enticier glared at the pixel display, a frustrated growl, nearly inequine, rolled in the back of his throat. “I definitely hit buck before the timer ran out! How does that mare keep winning?”
Aspire bit his lip and shared a poorly-hidden grin with his giggling girlfriend. Manehattan was, by some rather old boundary lines drawn after the second or third of the Changeling Wars, considered to be within Caretaker territory. While the Caretakers didn’t quite make day trips over from Respite to feed without asking, it was still a bit more accepted to give in to that bit of passive feeding here and there. So, in essence, this, and the rest of the province, were their feeding ground.
Which meant Enchanters didn’t visit in groups of five or more without leave from Queen Euphoria, and the royals often showed such respect by staying away unless invited by a Caretaker.
Enticier had been to Manehattan a few times before. But his favored hangouts were more in line with dance clubs, concerts, parties, and generally anywhere else he could schmooze with a few ponies—and, in those days, try to impress Aspire enough to consider giving into the Enchanter side of his heritage.
Arcades? Not so much.
Sure Stroke managed to stifle her giggles at last, just in time so she could reach up and offer a comforting pat to the frustrated changeling’s shoulder. “It takes practice to get the timing down,” she said. The little pegasus tugged gently upon his elbow, drawing him away from the Buck ‘Em Brawlers console so they might escape the mirth of tiny foals and wary parents’ stares. “Why don’t we try another?”
Another rumble, this time coupled with a sidelong look at Aspire. “Knew you’d set me up like that,” Enticier groused.
Aspire shrugged. “Guilty,” he admitted, grinning unabashed. He stepped closer though, just enough to whisper, “And someone needs to remember that he’s an adult pony in the middle of Manehattan before we play our next game.”
The Prince of Enchanters sucked in his lips. “Thanks,” he muttered. Aloud, he said, “So, what next—and please, nothing with fighting a rigged computer character.”
Only a well-timed look from Sure Stroke, a knowing little smirk with raised brows, kept Aspire’s quip from passing his lips. Instead, he glanced about and found an old favorite.
He gave Sure Stroke a gentle elbow nudge to her shoulder and nodded. “There,” he said. “Look, Magical Mayhem looks like it’ll be open in a minute or two.”
Her velvety purple ears perked right up. “Oooh! Yes!” Beaming, she pranced just ahead and turned to look up at Enticier. “You’ll like this one! It’s kinda fighty, kinda adventurey, but it’s with a team of up to four players!”
Enticier looked over at the game, uncertain, and wrinkled his snout. “Is it going to cheat me on timing while it teases me with a health bar?”
“Only the bosses have health bars,” Sure Stroke replied with a shake of her head. “The regular enemies take a hit or two, special enemies can take up to five. Other than that, they cast dark magic, punch, and buck every now and then.”
With a thoughtful hum, Enticier shrugged. “Well, we can give it a try, then.” He shot a dour look over his shoulder at the Buck ‘Em Brawlers game and bared his teeth. “But if it’s rigged like that one, I’m bucking both of them.”
Now, that, Aspire would pay to see.
But since the name of the game was improving moods, needling Enticier was out of the question. Aspire opted instead to follow along, happy at least that they’d gotten Enticier out from under the dark cloud that’d followed him from Paradise. Even if it meant a little foray into frustration at a game.
They arrived just in time to see the tail end of a team of four young colts in the midst of a valiant battle against the middle boss. And, if the familiar scene was any indication, the pint sized heroes were not faring well in their battle against the darkness.
The little ones jerked their hoof stick controls and mashed the buttons furiously, their tails flicking and bodies flinching with some want to dodge in their character’s stead. Upon their chubby, foalish faces, each wore a grimace together with eyes wide in helplessness as the middle boss cut down their characters one by one without mercy.
And as each little hero fell, the colts would let out a frustrated whine and slump in place while his fellows vowed to avenge their fallen comrade. All in vain.
Aspire smiled as bright and warm as a midsummer day, even as the four colts stomped their hooves and groused at their failure. Memories of himself with Esalen, Toola, Nimble, Vector, and Zephyr floated to view, each voicing similar complaints.
“I thought you said this was a fun game,” Enticier quipped.
Before Aspire could think to assure him of such, those four little colts turned, ears twitching and snouts wrinkled.
“A fun game?” one of the colts repeated incredulously. “It’s, like, the best game in the whole Arcadopolis!”
“Everypony plays Magical Mayhem!” another added. “Grand Prize had to put a rule up that ponies could only have two games in a row before a switch because it’s so popular!”
Now, that was new. Aspire could remember just a couple years prior watching as a few Manehattan teens played for the better part of an hour until they were finally kicked off. He glanced up and, sure enough, there was a big sign over the game which read “Two game rule: You may play two games in a row, then you must switch. Violators will be asked to leave.”
Sure Stroke sniffed. “That’s a bit harsh,” she noted.
The first colt, a young earth pony, shook his head. “There were a couple fights over it. Grand Prize got pretty mad.”
Aspire found his attention drawn to the colt. For a moment, the others seemed to fade into the background of his vision, his keen eyes highlighting him as something that wasn’t quite what it appeared.
Could he be … no, he would’ve noticed too.
Out of the corner of his eye, Aspire noticed Enticier blanching. “But … it’s a game,” he said, as if he were hoping to remind past fighters of how silly they were. “A rather frustrating one, given how you lot were complaining.”
Blinking twice, the colts shared a wry look.
“It’s a challenge,” the smallest among them replied.
“If it were easy, it wouldn’t be as fun,” another chipped in. “Just because we’re frustrated doesn’t mean it’s not a fun game we wouldn’t play again like that Buck ‘Em Brawlers machine.”
His friends grimaced. “Don’t remind me,” the little one grumped. “That stupid game is totally rigged.”
“Aha!” Enticier cried, turning to Aspire with a triumphant gleam in his eye. “I told you so!”
Aspire reached up and pressed a hoof against his friend’s nose, gently pushing him back. “Congratulations,” he deadpanned, much to Sure Stroke’s mirth. “You’re as mature as the eight year olds.”
On his opposite side, Sure Stroke gave him a little hip bump. “Oh, be nice, I’ve seen how you get with some of these machines.” She reared up and draped her hooves over his back so she could look over at Enticier and waggled her ears. “So, wanna play with us?”
The Prince of Enchanters let an uncertain little groan roll in the back of his throat. “I doubt I’ll be very good,” he said with a sigh, but made to approach the console’s third player position all the same.
Sure Stroke rolled her eyes and hopped off Aspire’s back so she could follow their friend. “You’ll do fine, you great big foal!” she teased. All the same, she looked to the foals around them and shot Aspire a coy smirk.
His brow arched. What schemes are you scheming in that doodle-filled head of yours? he could only wonder.
Aspire watched his girlfriend turn to the four fallen heroes and offer a winning smile. “So,” she began, “which of you would like to help us teach our friend and get back at that mid-boss?”
Four sets of eyes shone with delight, the only warning before a scramble to the fourth player hoof stick ensued, and the first foal to speak up joined their party.
Not a bad idea, all things considered.
Aspire sidled over to the first player spot so Sure Stroke could have her two favorite disguised changelings on either side of her, a gesture which earned him a happy fluffing of feathers and peck on the cheek before she placed a pouch full of tokens on the console and inserted two for each player.
“Magical Maaaaaaaaaaayhem!” the announcer’s voice boomed from twin speakers mounted on either side of the console. Upon the screen, a grid of characters floated into view, each with a picture of a pony sorcerer from various comics and book series and their name beneath. “Choose your character!”
As always, Aspire was quick to select his old favorite, Donnchad MacCulkin, so he could claim the stallion’s iconic primary look. A move which never failed to earn that tired smile from Sure Stroke, the one that just said “Really? You can’t pick someone else?”
In fact, yes. Aspire hit cancel just as she began to accept Donnchad herself, and switched his character to the Cold Queen, Esalen’s favorite. A move which gave Donnchad’s primary look to a most surprised Sure Stroke, while Enticier snagged a young colt in his mid teens Aspire only barely recognized from comic covers he’d passed over in the bookstore.
“He’s got a very you smile,” Enticier explained when he noticed Aspire’s attention.
“Players ready! Stage one: begin!”
The character grid seemed to shatter before their eyes to reveal a ravaged pony city somewhere in the Far East. A runic circle glowed blood red on the ground at the center of the screen, then a flash of light brought the heroic sorcerers and fey queen onto the battlefield.
“This land is ravaged by chaos and greed,” the Cold Queen’s cool, derisive tone sounded through the speakers. “Shall I bring an early winter to balance the scales, beloved?”
“We had a deal,” Donnchad countered. “We save the colonies and the colonists, we’re not bringing an Age of Ice to this place to start from scratch!”
Aspire grinned. “And this is why Essy and I always chose those two.”
“The banter?” Enticier asked.
“Bingo.”
“Boys!” Sure Stroke chided just as a monstrous, gurgling snarl reached their ears and hideous, monstrous things that looked an insidious cross between a pony and some unnamed monster stalked into view from either side of the screen.
A quick shift of the hoof stick and touch of the primary strike button saw the Cold Queen make a graceful dash across the screen to drive a hoof into the face of the first creature, and a second, a back hoofed swipe across another’s face while she scoffed and said, “Worth neither frost nor wind, a pitiful soul indeed.”
Enticier was nowhere near as smooth in his reply. He mashed his hoof furiously upon the buttons and jerked the hoof stick in a way that sent his young unicorn flailing about the screen like a jackrabbit on a sugar rush, content to throw limb and spell at every enemy around. To a point, it certainly worked to clear four monsters in quick succession.
But he didn’t notice the drawback until Sure Stroke looked over and warned, “Ent, you need to conserve your spells for bigger groups or more important enemies or you’ll run out! Keep an eye on the little blue bar beneath the green one—green for health, blue for magic!”
“Huh?” Enticier looked down at the bars, only for his character to take a hit from one of the monsters. “Hey!” he protested. “I was looking at that, you stupid … swamp-creature-looking-thing!”
On and on they fought against—as Enticier insisted upon calling them—the stupid swamp-creature-looking-things. Through the streets of a village torn apart by battle and up a long, winding path until they reached the fallen city of Trylothia. All the way, their enemies multiplied and strengthened, challenging the heroes.
Challenging two disguised changelings.
Aspire felt his blood scream for victory, even against the game. He bared his teeth in a wicked grin and unleashed the Cold Queen’s special blizzard attack upon a hulking beast bearing down upon Sure Stroke.
“Another rescue, another debt,” Aspire teased in a poor mockery of the Cold Queen’s voice, painful though it was to forgo his natural gift.
“Yeah, yeah, put it on his tab,” Sure Stroke imitated Donnchad, just as she used his lightning lance to decimate a crowd of creatures bearing down on Aspire. “And like that, it’s paid.”
“Touché.”
On her opposite side, Enticier had thrown himself right into the thick of it as well. Much like the little colt at his side, he jerked his controls and mashed buttons wildly, leaning in close and shifting his body about as if he were one with the character.
Competition and delight hung thick in the air. Delicious. So tempting to just draw inward for a little passive feeding.
The team of four made it all the way passed the mid-boss—a massive hydra with twelve heads, each of which could alternate between shooting fire or lunging for a quick strike—and even managed to advance up the slopes of the foreboding Mount Apocalypse, the lair of the demon leading the attacks.
That was right about where their fortunes took a turn for the worst.
The zone boss, a hulking ursa major corrupted by dark magic, thundered forth from within its den. Its roar shook the very ground the heroes stood upon, and a swipe of its paw cut their health in half!
It was here, Aspire remembered, his efforts always were in vain.
So too was it on this day.
“No! No—oh, what a load of horse apples!” Enticier slapped the console and propped his chin upon his hoof while his little partner in crime groaned and allowed himself to fall backward and lay upon the ground, surrounded by his friends. “Stupid ursa.”
Sure Stroke grimaced. “We’ll get her. Aspire, aim an ice lance at her—eek! No!”
“Aaaaaaand we’re dead,” Aspire intoned. Damn, and they’d been doing so well too. Better than he’d thought, since he they hadn’t played in so long. He rolled his eyes at the grayed out screen and “GAME OVER” showing in red lettering, then turned and shrugged his shoulders. “Sorry, colts. Looks like no one’s getting to Mount Apocalypse’s peak today.”
The little colt sat up straight and shot him a disbelieving look. “Are you kidding me? That was amazing!” He leapt to his hooves, a bright grin splitting his features as he looked up at each of them with nothing short of utmost adoration written plain upon his face. “You guys are incredible! And I thought you said you’d never played before!”
Enticier blinked. “Er … I haven’t,” he replied.
Aspire had to bite his tongue to stifle a laugh at the way his friend nearly jumped as the four young colts surrounded him in an instant, each gaping up at him in awe.
“You’re an actual natural then! You gotta play with us again!”
“Uh, well, I don’t really … um.” It was a rare moment to see any Enchanter, let alone Enticier, so flustered and at a loss for words.
That Aspire got to witness it twice in such a short amount of time was truly a gift. So, when Enticier looked over to him in silent askance for rescue, he was all too pleased to take the chance to smile back and say, “Sure, I wouldn’t mind another game. How about you, honey?”
“Oh, definitely!” she replied, sending a grin Enticier’s way when he goggled at her. “I wanna see if we can finally beat that stupid bear.”
Outvoted and flanked by his friend and a posse of adoring fans, Enticier could do little but shift in place and duck his head to hide the smile creeping across his features. “I suppose I wouldn’t mind playing out the second of those two games we’re allowed.” He glanced down at the colt by his side and gave a crooked smile, “Though I may need your help again, Redwood.”
The little colt, Redwood, swished his tail like an eager little puppy.
Aspire allowed himself a small smile as Sure Stroke inserted another round of game tokens. I have the distinct feeling that ursa is doomed.
The ursa was, in fact, quite doomed.
It was Enticier’s senseless mashing of those buttons that sealed the victory. His young mage unleashed his special finisher with a youthful cry of “Swirling Light Storm!” and sent a burst of shimmering light through the ursa’s chest. The beast evaporated into stardust with an agonized roar, leaving the route to the summit clear.
Much to the delight of little Redwood and his friends, of course. Enticier was promptly mobbed by the colts—as best they could do, each latching upon one of his legs like lampreys, pressing against him as if he were one of their own.
And Enticier’s bright smile and laughter as he struggled to maintain his balance told of his own joy. His taste?
Aspire licked his lips. Delicious. Enticier, Sure Stroke, the colts, and Redwood all tasted so happy and full of love.
A little passive sip at that swirling vortex of happiness wouldn’t go missed. Even if it drew a startled look from Enticier.
“Just a taste,” Aspire mouthed sheepishly. “Little snack.”
With a nod, Enticier smiled and took a deep breath. Aspire could feel his magic reach out to sample a bit in turn, brushing against his cheek as soft and warm as a friendly nuzzle that lingered just a bit.
His heart lodged in his throat. Aspire drew in a shuddering breath as he felt his friend end his little snack, that phantom touch upon his cheek left at last.
“S-So!” he stammered abruptly. “What next?”
“How about mini golf?” Sure Stroke offered. “Something a bit more relaxing, and not at all rigged.” She cast a wink toward Enticier.
The Prince of Enchanters took it in stride. “Haha, I’m not the only one who says it.” He gestured to Redwood. “Mini golf? I’m guessing that’s just a smaller variant of the golf courses we have back home?”
“You’ve never played mini golf either?” Redwood detached himself from Enticier so he could gape in horror. “Where the hay do you live?”
“In the north. We don’t have mini golf courses, unfortunately, but I do well enough at actual golf.” With a shrug, Enticier smiled at Sure Stroke. “I like the idea. How different could it be?”
Aspire felt his smile straining as he waved an apology at a pair of families ahead on the course. One of the fathers shot a glare back in turn, his hoof wrapped protectively around his young filly’s shoulders.
Meanwhile, Sure Stroke busied herself taking Enticier by the elbow so she could pull him away from the course. Right as a blue flash of magic brought the ball right back to its place at the starting position.
“Ent,” she said patiently, though through gritted teeth. “This is the second time and we’re only four holes into the game.”
His ears drooping, the disguised prince rubbed his shoulder. “It’s not as easy at it looks to kick the habit.”
“Yes, but the point in mini golf is to navigate the obstacles by putting, not practicing a chip shot off the stones!”
While Enticier was indeed rather talented when it came to golf—or so he’d bragged on their way out onto the course—there were a few things he just couldn’t quite wrap his head around when it came to the miniaturized version. Simple things, to those who knew the game.
Like not taking the shortest possible path, but trying to go through the obstacles in his way.
Aspire turned away from the families ahead, ignoring their baleful looks, and trotted over to pat Enticier’s shoulder. “Let’s try this again, Ent,” he said, humor tinging his voice. Truth be told, the game could use just a little more adventure anyway. He drew Enticier in close and gestured in the direction of the hole—and before it, a quartet of white, egg-shaped bumpers positioned at the edge of an incline which led down to the proverbial green. “So, this one is just like the last, but with the added twist of that drop to throw you off.”
“And suddenly alter course, like with yours,” Enticier noted.
“Right.” Aspire’s ear flicked. He’d been so close to a hole in one. “So, best bet is to put it through the center gap between the inner two bumpers—” he gestured with his club “—just wide enough for the ball to fit through.”
The Prince of Enchanters hummed in thought. “With little wiggle room to work with either way.” He glanced at Aspire out of the corner of his eye. “Just enough to drive somepony nuts.”
Sure Stroke stepped over and threw a wing across his shoulders. With a sly grin, she leaned in and said, “Think of it less as trying to drive you nuts and more as us laying down a challenge, Ent. If you think you can come back, that is.”
Within those sky blue eyes, there was a flash, a flicker of that same fire all changelings had when answering challenges offered.
Enticier glanced down at his putter and arched a brow, considering it a moment. A slow, conniving smile spread across his features. “Well, when you put it like that, I suppose I can’t exactly fool around, then.”
He turned, humming a musical tune and took his club in hoof, lining up for his next shot. Holding his tongue between his false pony teeth, Enticier took his measure and drew his club back. In one motion, he swung forward and sent the ball zipping along the course, straight through the bumpers and down the slope, just by the hole.
“Ah, close,” Aspire muttered under his breath.
Then the ball rebounded off the stone wall with a little clack and merrily skipped backward. Right into the hole.
Slowly, Aspire turned to fix Enticier with an incredulous look. One shared by their fellow players.
Enticier blinked. “What? I told you I was good! I just was trying to avoid the obstacles like in actual golf!”
From that point on, it was little contest. Enticier didn’t just catch fire and make a comeback after a dismal start.
Quite simply put, he ran the table. Worse, he made it look entirely too easy.
Every hole, any obstacle, Enticier overcame with seemingly effortless ease. He even humored Sure Stroke trying to distract him by tickling along his ribcage with her primaries long enough to turn and shoot her a grin.
“C’mon,” he teased, “with my family, you don’t think distractions are part of the game? Ha!”
He promptly turned and sank a hole in one, and waggled his ears when he noticed the playful glare she sent in reply.
“You totally hustled us,” she accused without heat.
“Not at all.” Enticier shook his head. “I still have no idea why any pony would add obstacles other than the norm to golf, but if the name of the game is to beat them by going through … well, same principal as avoiding the sand or water or trees.”
The game only grew more lopsided from then onward. While he wasn’t exactly sinking holes in one on each and every shot, it certainly felt like he always knew exactly how to put himself in prefect position for an easy tap in on the second shot, much to the consternation of Sure Stroke and the foals.
Aspire, meanwhile, was content to bring up the rear in terms of score. Did he like losing to Enticier? Oh, love no!
But the way his girlfriend’s snout wrinkled, her face twisting as if she were sucking on a lemon, was well worth his dismal placing. Even if he’d completely mis-putted a couple because he couldn’t stop laughing.
“Shut. Up.” Sure Stroke ground through gritted teeth. Her cheeks burned a bright red, full of embarrassment.
But no real anger. Aspire didn’t taste the slightest bit of that.
No, just a bit of chagrin.
So it was about a fifty-fifty shot as to whether he was safe as he turned to plant a sloppy kiss upon her cheek and waggle his ears. “Shouldn’t’ve challenged him if you didn’t want him to step up and make things interesting.”
Whatever payback Sure Stroke might have concocted in her doodly little head was well worth the glare she shot in reply. More so when she promptly sent her next shot straight off a little makeshift bridge and into the water.
Without looking, she held up a hoof in warning. “Not a word,” Sure Stroke said slowly.
She should’ve known better.
Aspire trotted right up, planted another kiss upon her cheek, just as sloppy as the last, and chirped, “Word.”
And then he turned tail and fled as if Cerberus himself was nipping at his tail, his escape followed by raucous laughter and his lovely girlfriend’s voice shouting promises of a reunion between his head and her wing. One Esalen might have said was a long time coming, had she been present.
After a rather lengthy game of cat and mouse which finally saw Enticier step in, quite amused at the whole thing, to ask the lovebirds if they were finished or if they needed an extended intermission.
The look Sure Stroke shot Aspire before she agreed to end the chase only assured him whatever payback she cooked up would see him begging for mercy.
Meh, still worth it.
By the time they reached the eighteenth hole, the climactic showdown between Enticier and little Redwood, the sky had turned an ominous black once again. Like the storm had gathered itself once more for a second wave. A cold wind blew across the mini golf course, spurring a shiver and flick of Apsire’s ears.
He glanced over at Sure Stroke to find her staring up at the clouds, her brows knotted in concern. “Honey?” he asked as a rumble sounded in the distance.
She didn’t reply at first. The little mare’s feathers twitched and ruffled, her lips curved into a small frown. “We need to finish up quickly,” she announced. Sure Stroke turned to meet his eyes. “That storm is about to get really ugly, and I don’t think the weather team is going to have time to take the edge off it.”
Aspire and Enticier shared a look. Wild storms were no joke, whether snow or rain. “All right, let’s try to move it along then,” Aspire said, ushering the foals into a line. “Everypony get in line in order so we can just get this moving and finish as quickly as—”
A flash of light flashed just across the street and the loud clap of thunder split the air, drawing a chorus of startled squeaks from the foals.
“Or we head in now and don’t get hit by lightning,” he finished as if he hadn’t been interrupted. Aspire nudged them toward the door and called, “Everypony get inside! Go!”
They were off like he’d shot them out of a crossbow, running as fast as their little hooves could carry them, jostling and bumping together in their haste to get inside.
The adults came after, following along in a brisk trot so not to bowl over the young ponies and ensure they made it inside. Aspire felt a droplet of rain upon his head, then another on his shoulder before a steady cascade came down upon the city like a curtain, drumming out a cadence atop every rooftop in the city.
And with it, came another rumble of thunder, like an angry giant waking from its sleep.
Aspire slid to a halt, his hooves slipping on the wet pavement, and moved to let Enticier and Sure Stroke pass first, earning a nod of thanks from each in turn. He cast one quick look out across the course to ensure there was no one else lagging behind. Then, once he was certain there were none, he turned and slipped inside, closing the door behind him with a sharp kick of his hind hoof.
Inside, a throng of ponies, foals and teens alike, crowded together around the prize station. Their young faces showed concern, anxiety. And they had just the stallion to direct it toward.
Grand Prize had emerged from his office in the back to placate his guests’ unease. He held up a hoof in askance that they wait while he turned to what looked to be a series of brass tubes mounted upon the wall, just in time for a cylindrical object to come sliding into the middle tube with a whizzing noise and slight ka-shonk.
Aspire led his group over to stand by the prize stand to listen in as the portly stallion took the cylinder in his magic’s shimmering gold glow and floated it out of the tube, then broke it open to reveal a little scroll. He unrolled it gently and took a moment to look over the note, a hint of a frown playing upon his lips.
“Bad news, everypony,” he announced with a heavy sigh. “It looks like this is a full blown storm that the weather pegasi weren’t able to fully weaken to normal levels. They got some of the outer bands, but the main body we’re going to start getting was a bit too far out over water for them to manage. The forecasting equipment has shown this to be rather severe and they’ve put out a warning to stay indoors for the next three hours, then try to be home for the night for the rest.”
Worry swept through the crowd. The foals and teens each turned to one another and spoke in hushed whispers, fretting over how they would get home and what they would tell their parents. Aspire turned to look to Enticier and Sure Stroke, biting his lip as he thought of their trains.
“Two hours to departure,” Sure Stroke said.
“Same for me.” Enticier sighed and reached up to massage his forehead. “Well, this is going to make a mess of things.”
Grand Prize held up hooves in a calming gesture. “Now, now, it’ll be all right. This is the last of the outer bands, and it looks like there will be a bit of a break,” he said, drawing their attention to him once more. “I can’t let you little ones out in that storm in good conscience, but I understand that some of you didn’t necessarily bring enough money to stay for so long. So, I’m willing to offer free snack and drinks and non-ticket games during the storm. Then, when we get to that break, we’ll send you home by groups or walk you to the metro station.”
It was like he’d cast a spell. One minute, Grand Prize was faced with a crowd of fretting foals wondering how they’d get home in the storm. The next, he was the kindly heroic stallion who put profit aside to help keep the community foals safe and sound.
It was no small wonder the Arcadopolis was such a staple in the area.
Aspire turned away to face Sure Stroke and Enticier, laying a comforting hoof upon his girlfriend’s shoulders. “I suppose we’ll have to see if we can bother Hab and Bright to see if they’ll let us impose upon them for the evening.”
“Oh, I hate to bother them for something like this,” Sure Stroke said with a sigh.
“Don’t let them hear you say that or we’ll hear about all my parents and Queen Euphoria have done for them in turn. Ent, you’re welcome to join us.”
The Prince of Enchanters gave a rueful smile. “I’ll have to, I didn’t bring enough to get myself a room.” Thinking a moment, he asked, “They wouldn’t have a fire path in their home, would they?”
Aspire shrugged. “I’m not sure, but if they do it’s probably just an emergency path that goes to the Queen’s den.”
“Could work, if Queen Euphoria doesn’t mind being a middlemare to let my mother know I missed my train because of the storm.”
“Then we’ll have to check with them.”
“A little bold to be talking about one of the Queens in public, isn’t it, cousin?” Redwood cut into their conversation.
The trio jolted and looked down, gaping at the lone little colt who looked up at them looking the very picture oof innocence.
“Cousin?” Sure Stroke asked. “As in blood relation, or—”
“One of our kin,” Enticier replied softly, eying Redwood a moment. “I had a feeling you weren’t quite what you appeared, young colt. But I didn’t want to pester you in front of your friends.”
Redwood smiled and waggled his ears. “I appreciate that. It would’ve been a little awkward explaining why two stallions I’ve never met were grilling me.”
“Indeed. If you don’t mind my asking, which—er—branch of the family you’re a part of?”
A rather slick way of asking which hive. Clever.
The disguised nymph hummed and considered how to reply. “Well,” he began, “I was born and raised here in Manehattan, but my mother’s side has been known to go off wandering from time to time and father’s can be very enchanting. And you?”
Half Marauder, half Enchanter, then. And one of they who walked away from their hives in search of a life free of obligation should the Changeling Wars begin again.
Aspire tapped a hoof against his chest and gave his reply, “While my family and I are very caring toward ponies we meet, my mothers side has some very enchanting qualities as well.”
“And I can be an enchanting one myself,” Enticier said with a smile.
Not one to be left out, Sure Stroke fidgeted between them and chipped in, “Aaaaaand my family is feathery.”
“And doodly,” Aspire and Enticier chimed in unison.
She turned to glare at the Prince of Enchanters. “Him, I expect. Don’t you start too!”
He simply waggled his ears. “Of course.”
Redwood beamed, quite clearly pleased with himself. “I had a feeling you were,” he said. “You both were very charming, even without any of our gifts. And Mister Aspire hurried everypoony inside and lingered to make sure no pony was caught out in the storm.” Looking up at Enticier, he wrinkled his snout. “Er, is Ent your actual name or is that short for something?”
A smirk played upon Enticier’s lips. He leaned down to Redwood’s level and began to whisper in his ear, his lips tugging into a grin as the disguised nymph’s jaw dropped in utter shock.
And why not? It wasn’t every day royalty waltzed into the neighborhood arcade and played games with a little nymph and his friends.
As Enticier drew back from Redwood, the nymph sputtered and made as though to bow his head, but stopped short, afraid to make a scene. Instead, he looked up at Enticier agape and stammered, “M-My parents would kill me if I didn’t invite you and your friends to dinner, sir.”
“No need to call me sir, Redwood.” Enticier waved him off. “And I’m afraid I don’t think that would be possible with this storm. We’ll need to get to their friends’s house quickly.”
“You can stay in the guest room in our penthouse!” Redwood offered. He reared up and clasped his little hooves together. “Oh, please! You just have to! My father would love to host you—his family hasn’t gotten the chance to hose yours since my great grandfather!”
Enticier gave a crooked, uneasy smile. No doubt warring with his want to please his little friend and a worry that he might inconvenience his others. He glanced between Redwood and Sure Stroke and Aspire a couple times, his eyes lingering on the latter pair in silent askance.
Turning to Sure Stroke, Aspire asked, “I’m okay with it if you are, honey.”
She barely had a split second before she found herself met with a full dose of pitiful foal eyes the likes of which only an Enchanter’s scion could manage. Eyes shimmering full of tears and pleading.
The poor mare never stood a chance.
The sun had just finished setting by the time the second band broke and passed them by. And yet, the clouds lingering overhead combined with the lights from all the surrounding buildings in the ever-restless city robbed them of the chance to see the stars dotting the night sky.
Grand Prize didn’t waste any time waiting after that message bearing the words “All clear, return home immediately” arrived. He ushered everyone outside, flanked by his teenage workers, and floated his ring of keys behind him so he could close up shop. Once he’d made sure everything was locked up tight, he turned to address his patrons.
“All right, everypony,” he said with a smile. “Thank you for behaving so well while we waited, you know I’m always glad to let you stick around during bad weather. Now, let’s organize ourselves into groups. If you came on the metro, form a line in front of me! If you came from east of thirteenth street, line up in front of Eight Bit and Snake Eyes!”
Aspire stood off to the side of the crowd with Sure Stroke and Enticier on either side of him, his ears standing erect so he could hear as much as possible over the chattering foals. With them, Redwood and his friends stood just a step in front, all together in a little group.
He leaned down to the disguised nymph’s level to murmur in his ear, “Which group are we waiting for?”
Redwood shook his head. “I’m gonna go talk to him and ask if it’s okay if we just go with you. Our building is only a few blocks away, anyway.”
Aspire bit his lip, two sides warred together in his head. On one hoof, if Redwood were his nymph or one of his students, he probably wouldn’t some strange ponies from who knows where to walk his son home in the middle of the night. On the other, well, if they were close, was there really any point in dallying?
Then again, he wasn’t some strange pony, nor was Sure Stroke. Not to Grand Prize, anyway.
If he remembered their faces after a couple years.
“Maybe we should go up with you,” Aspire offered. “Y’know. So he can see who you’re asking to go off with.”
Redwood made as though to wave him off, but stopped when one of his friends caught him by the elbow.
“Mister Prize really won’t like it if we just go off with somepony we don’t know without clearing it with him,” the smallest of their group said.
“Hmm.” The little nymph brought a hoof to his chin. “Good point, Penny Pinch. Let’s get to him before he heads off to the metro station.”
Redwood motioned for them to follow along with a little toss of his head, then trotted on up, leading them past the crowd of foals milling about to get into their lines until he stood just a couple steps away from the portly stallion directing everyone about with all the practiced ease of a City Guard captain. With a cough, the little nymph looked up at the stallion and said, “Mister Prize? Can I borrow you for a moment?”
“Hmm?” Grand Prize’s ears twitched. He turned, his eyes flitting about a moment before he realized himself and turned his gaze down to the little one at his hooves. A smile spread across his features. “Ah, Redwood. I thought I saw you and your little friends running about my mini golf course today. Did you enjoy yourselves?”
“Sure did! And we made a couple new friends too!” The little nymph waggled his ears and gestured toward the adults with an excited wave of his hoof. “Look!”
And Grand Prize did look. He blinked a few times, tilting his head ever so slightly as he regarded the three adults standing before him through narrowed eyes. After a moment, he clicked his tongue. “Your faces seem familiar,” he said, gesturing to Aspire and Sure Stroke before he turned to shake his head at Enticier. “Sir, I’m sorry, but I don’t believe we’ve met.”
“Us? We haven’t,” Enticier confirmed, pointing to Aspire. “They brought me here for the first time today.”
As the stallion looked back at him, Aspire greeted him with a little nod. “Aspire and Sure Stroke, sir,” he answered before Grand Prize could ask. “It’s been a couple years.”
His ears stood up straight, recognition flashed across his face, bringing with it a broad grin. “Ahhhh, yes! Well, well, here’s trouble indeed in you two.”
Sure Stroke feigned a hurt look. “Trouble? Me?” She brought a hoof up to clutch her chest as if protecting her wounded heart. “I was innocent! This big lug and his sister were the masterminds!”
Grand Prize hummed and arched a brow. “Of course, of course.” Chuckling, he looked to Aspire and let out a whistle. “Big lug is right! You’ve shot up like a weed, Aspire! Is your sister around too?”
Smiling, Aspire shook his head. “Afraid not. She’s back home with Toola Roola. Sure Stroke and I came up to spend the day with Enticier, before we ran into these little miscreants.”
“Hey!” Redwood and his friends protested, puffing out their little cheeks.
The stallion threw back his head and laughed. “Miscreants is about right to call these four! Troublemakers almost as bad as you when you were that age.” Turning his attention to Redwood again, he arched a brow. “And what is it you need, little one? You should be over with Chocolate Swirl and Twisty Treat.”
Redwood shifted in place a bit, his taste tinged with just a hint of nerves in the face of an adult’s piercing look. “Er, well, I was going to ask if we could just head to our building with them.” He gestured to the adults, who nodded on cue.
“You see, as it turns out,” Enticier interjected smoothly, gently placing a hoof upon Redwood’s shoulder. “This little one’s father is a distant relative of mine whom I’ve not seen since we were foals, so he was kind enough to invite us to dine with his family. I took him up on the offer, of course. I’d just hate to leave without saying hello.”
“Oh!” Grand Prize’s ears twitched. His smile returned in full. “Well, I suppose if he’s with a group of adults and each of them lives in the building, it does make sense. You’re familiar with how to get there?”
With a shake of his head and a rueful smile, Enticier looked the very picture of the tourist he truly was. “To be honest, we were going to have Redwood lead us. He seems rather sure it’s just a couple blocks down the street.”
“Ah, well, he’s quite right.”
Grand Prize threw a hoof around Enticier’s shoulder like they were old friends and guided him to the sidewalk, facing eastward down twelfth street, where several rather large, well-off apartment buildings and condos rose up in the distance. “Go three blocks down twelfth and take a left at the light. It’ll be the big, cream yellow building on the opposite side of the street with the words Heart’s Haven on the side. You can’t miss it.”
“Ah, okay.” Fidgeting within the larger stallion’s grasp, Enticier patted his shoulder. “Much appreciated, sir. Have a good evening.”
“And you as well.” Grand Prize turned and trotted away, just in time to scold a couple fillies who were darting about and playing while they awaited his direction.
The Prince of Enchanters beckoned the others over so they could make their way to Redwood’s apartment. The little colt, himself, was positively giddy, tasting the air around him completely unnecessary with how he bounced on the tips of his hooves with each step.
Sure Stroke sidled up to him with a playful smirk. “You sly boy,” she crooned in his ear. “Distant relative, my cutie mark.”
“Hey, if it works.” Enticier shrugged, his smile unfaltering even as a hint of color bled into his cheeks. He feigned a cough and leaned down to nod to Redwood. “Well, lead on, little cousin. Let’s go see this home of yours.”
Aspire could’ve sworn Redwood’s smile was brighter than all the lights in Manehattan.
Heart’s Haven wasn’t just a high-end condominium in Manehattan. It was the high-end condominium in the city.
That much had been made clear when Enticier, of all changelings, gave a hum of approval, like he’d been appraising it while they walked across the street. “Not bad,” he mused aloud, his eyes lingering on the lettering. “I think I might’ve chosen a nice blue, though, to offset the color of the building instead of that red.”
Aspire gazed up at the signage and then the matching overhang leading up to the front door, where a young stallion clothed in a green suit and cap stood. He wrinkled his snout, turning to face his old friend as they walked. “Why would you say that? It kinda reminds me of … love and familiar surroundings, y’know?” he said, thinking of his nice, cozy bedpod and furniture back home, and the chance to have his beautiful, delicious girlfriend recline with him while he fed upon her affection.
The Prince of Enchanters tensed. His eyes flitted to Aspire, then Sure Stroke for a bare moment. “The same, actually,” Enticier replied softly. “I was thinking along similar lines.”
Oh. Aspire felt a lump of ice drop into the pit of his stomach.
“The lake you told me about?” Sure Stroke asked. “Crystal Lake, right?”
A wan smile made its way across the Prince of Enchanters’s features. “Yes,” he muttered. “Just like the waters of Crystal Lake.”
Aspire tried to ignore the pang in his chest, licking his dried lips as he silently followed along the walkway leading up to the main entrance. Again, he found need to curse his younger self. Such a thoughtless, needlessly cruel nymph he’d been. Toward some foe or to earn some token for the hive, yes, he’d pull such a trick time and time again without any care for their feelings. But against his own friend?
What sort of changeling did that?
Me.
“There you foals are!” the bellhop greeted with a relieved smile. “We were getting worried we’d have to send somepony down to the arcade for you lot!”
Redwood waggled his ears. “We were all huddled up with Mister Prize, like he always has us do during storms. There was no need to worry, Tip Top.”
“You say that, but you’re not the one listening to Brass Ring panic about the owner’s youngest foal going missing for three hours.”
“Oof!” The disguised nymph and his cohorts winced. “Sorry about that, but you know we’re supposed to stay put when the weather team sends those big warnings out.”
Tip Top shrugged and replied, “Oh, I’m not arguing, I’m just telling you things were in a tizzy while we waited for you four to come home.” Then, he noticed the adults.
Aspire felt it only fitting that he pantomime tipping a hat in greeting. “Hi, there.”
“H-Hi,” Tip Top replied, nonplussed. “Are you three looking to rent, or …”
Only a slight rustling of feathers and shift of air warned Aspire of the impending reunion of his beloved Sure Stroke’s wing with the back of his head. “Hey!” he cried, ducking and covering himself from another blow.
“Don’t mind his silliness, sometimes it’s like I’m dealing with an overgrown puppy,” Sure Stroke said sweetly, the look in her eyes daring him to object. “We’re here with these colts. Redwood here seems to be a relative of my friend, Enticier—”
“I’m him!” Enticier chimed with a jaunty wave.
“—On his father’s side, so he invited us to dinner with his family,” she finished without missing a beat. Then, with a sheepish smile, she pressed against Aspire’s side and added, “Not that looking for a condo wouldn’t be nice, but I think one of these might be a little out of our price range right now.”
“You’d be surprised,” Redwood and Tip Top quipped in unison. The pair shared a look and a laugh at the little slip.
Redwood turned to face Sure Stroke with a smile. “The rates here probably aren’t as bad as you’re thinking. Dad keeps them low, just like grandpa used to.”
Blinking, Aspire wrinkled his snout. “Wait a minute.”
“Your dad and grandpa keep the rates low?” Enticier took up, eying him a moment.
“Uh, yeah?” Redwood’s lips twitched into a disbelieving smile. “Didn’t you hear Grand Prize?” he asked. “My dad’s building—my family’s building.”
It clicked. Aspire looked all the way up the side of Heart’s Haven, then back down at the disguised little nymph fixing him with a stare as though he wondered if his senior changeling might need a doctor.
“Your family owns this place?”
Redwood nodded slowly. “And a bunch of others as well.”
“Reddy’s kinda filthy rich!” Penny chipped in with a giggle and waggle of his ears. “Filthy, stinking rich, and he and his parents spoil us and all his friends rotten!”
“Quiet, you,” Redwood retorted with a fond smile.
“But I haven’t even started on the shows they do!”
“Or how much ponies rave about this place,” another added.
The fourth grinned and mused, “And how many talk about this and all your other buildings and how they hope a condo opens soon because there’s none better.”
“Swizzle! Twizzle! I said quiet!” Redwood cried, his cheeks aflame.
Aspire watched the byplay with only half his attention. His mind, on the other hoof, was spinning into gear as it tried to synthesize the information the three little colts and nymph had just crammed into it.
A family of hiveless changelings living a life of luxury. It just didn’t quite add up.
Not that Aspire wasn’t happy to hear of changelings finding such success outside the hive, living among ponies—far from it, in fact! But … owning buildings. Performing, even. Being a constant face in the public.
In a paradoxical way, it was both the epitome of everything a changeling wanted and the opposite of what every changeling knew for generations. Being a public face, owning such splendid property, performing … it all carried the possibility to garner love.
A lot of love.
Not to mention, bits by the cartload.
Aspire shook his head. He had to see this for himself, even more so now than just a passing interest in the lives of the hiveless and invitation from a young friend.
He hooked his hoof around Sure Stroke’s ankle and gave it a little squeeze. “Well, color us impressed,” Aspire praised, throwing a smile to Enticier. “Looks like owning splendorous buildings runs in the family, eh?”
The Prince of Enchanters hummed an affirmation. He trotted past the foals and bellhop, though not without tussling little Redwood’s mane, and pushed through the turnstile doors. “I’d like to see if the interior is as opulent as reputation suggests,” he mused aloud.
He barely finished speaking before Redwood was at his side, eagerly telling him all about the furnishing awaiting within as they slipped inside.
Leaving Aspire and Sure Stroke to watch, bemused.
“Well!” Sure Stroke said with a little bob of her head. “Isn’t he just getting the royal treatment today?”
Irony. Sweet irony.
And plenty of humor flavoring her too.
Aspire rolled his eyes and gave Sure Stroke a hip bump that drew a startled squeak as she was sent staggering a step. “Come on, you. That’s about enough of your lip.”
With a grin and fluff of her feathers, the little pegasus mare pranced right back to his side and pecked the corner of his mouth before wrapping her wing around his shoulders. Laying claim once more.
He snorted to himself. That was something to address when they were back home.
A deft little push of magic spun the turnstile doors to admit them like some sort of big wig ponies, hoof in hoof and wing upon shoulder. And what they found when they entered made Aspire’s jaw drop, Façade’s lessons on keeping face be damned.
The floors were a polished, wood brown tile pattern that glinted in the light, matched by the wood furnishings, banisters, and the receptionist’s counter situated by the far side. The ceiling was tall enough that Queen Euphoria could have taken a running leap and not scraped her horn were it not for the rose crystal chandelier hanging above the very center of the room—directly over an ornate heart emblem formed by flecks of gold within the tile. To the immediate right, a passage leading to the first floor rooms, with three elevators with shining gold doors on either side.
Aspire took a breath, and promptly went crosseyed. Love. So sweet. So many flavors of it, from familial to friendship to puppy love to lust and even pure romance! And just so full! The colts weren’t kidding! He could just stand still and feast for a week!
A little squeeze of the hoof jolted him back to reality. Aspire turned to Sure Stroke with a smile of thanks and kissed her cheek for her efforts. She giggled and bared her cheek, but still eyed him carefully as if to ask if he was going to be okay to control himself.
Such a loving, caring mare.
Together, they trotted over to the elevators, where Enticier and Redwood’s little group awaited their arrival.
Redwood stood before Penny, Swizzle, and Twizzle in front of one of the elevators, a warm smile upon his face as he moved to give each a big hug and a nuzzle. “Thanks for coming with me, guys,” he said softly. “I had fun.”
Aspire watched closely as each colt seemed to stiffen and shiver just a bit in his embrace, their eyes fluttering as if they felt something tickling their skin.
Or, he realized, a young nymph taking a quick nibble of love before dinner.
“N-No problem, Reddy,” Penny replied with a yawn. “Had a great time too.”
“Yeah, maybe we can go again tomorrow after your cousin and his friends leave,” Swizzle said, trying to fight off a yawn of his own. A fight he lost horribly. “Ugh! Sorry. I wasn’t feeling so tired a second ago.”
His twin, Twizzle, didn’t put up near the fight he did. He let his ears splay as he let out a great yawn, then turned to bat the up button on the elevator with a hoof, his own farewell slurred amidst a second, lengthier yawn as he stumbled into the waiting elevator.
As the others followed, Redwood waved his goodbye and waited until the double doors slid closed before he turned and fished a key out from his bit pouch. He walked up to the elevator nearest Enticier and inserted the key into the metal panel and gave it a twist, then batted the up arrow. The elevator bell chimed out a merry ring and opened to admit them.
“This elevator needs a key?” Aspire asked, raising a brow.
“It’s a private elevator,” Redwood explained. He motioned for them to enter first. “Only goes up to the penthouse, only our family and really close friends have copies. For emergencies.”
His meaning was not lost upon the adults. Enticier nodded and entered first, followed closely behind by Aspire and Sure Stroke, and then Redwood himself. The disguised nymph waited until the doors slid closed again and the elevator jolted into its slow, lazy ascent, then let out a contented sigh and closed his eyes with a deep, changeling purr.
To Aspire’s surprise, it was Sure Stroke who turned and eyed the nymph and asked, “Enjoy your snack?”
“They’re always so delicious.” Redwood licked his lips slowly, a bright smile spread across his features. “I know I shouldn’t spoil my dinner, but sometimes I just can’t help it around my friends. They love me a lot, and I love them for both the food they provide and companionship we share. More than they know.” He opened his eyes and met her gaze, his smile unfaltering. “Your boyfriend and His Highness took a little nibble from them as well. And you and I.”
“Yes.” Sure Stroke shot the abashed changelings a look. “And if they’d have asked, I’d have been happy to feed them myself.”
Aspire winced.
“Sorry,” Enticier murmured. “We couldn’t help ourselves.”
“Feeding rules are a bit different outside of Respite,” Aspire added, “as long as it’s passive and not invasive, is how we typically do it.”
“Same.”
With a hum, she clicked her tongue. “You never told me of that. And I don’t recall you feeding on me during our other day trips without asking.”
Her words cut deep into his chest, and the little bite of irritation tinging her sweet taste stung his tongue. Aspire ducked his head low, his ears splaying. “I’m sorry.”
“You owe me an explanation of how this works when we get home.” Those beautiful blue eyes softened, she sighed and leaned in to headbutt him gently, an affectionate little gesture. “You jerk.”
That both Enticier and Redwood showed enough discretion to allow that line of conversation end there earned a smile and nod of thanks. Aspire leaned against Sure Stroke and resigned himself to a rather uncomfortable explanation with Esalen once they got home.
Hopefully, that would be the last piece of drama for the evening.
The mood in the elevator car had improved a bit at least by the time its bell chimed out, signaling that they’d reached their destination. Sure Stroke’s wing held tight around Aspire’s shoulders and a little nuzzle to show her maintained affections despite his mistakes.
It served well to bring his smile back. Certainly, if she was still willing to hold him so and stay close, he wasn’t in as much trouble as he’d been before—definitely not like that night she’d confronted him by the lakeside.
Enticier drifted closer, relief shone in his eyes as he took stock of the pair, along, perhaps, with a wish that he might possess a Caretaker’s empathic taste to be sure things were well. “For what it’s worth,” he muttered as the doors slid open. “I did think you knew.”
Her smile faltered just slightly, Sure Stroke turned to fix him with a contemplative gaze. After a moment, she just shook her head and flicked a feather across his shoulder. “It’s not entirely your fault,” she said with a sigh. “Though I’m not pleased you both nibbled on the foals as well.”
A fair point. Aspire grimaced and thought of how his mother would scold him if she heard. It was no small wonder they’d gotten so tired after Redwood took a bit.
The little nymph, having waited in his polite, feigned obliviousness, turned to them with a smile and led them out of the elevator into the penthouse. It was right then, the very instant his hind hooves had crossed over onto the tile floor of his lavish home, Aspire nearly had a heart attack.
In a flash of arcane green flames, Redwood allowed his earth pony disguise to burn away. Where once soft, inviting brown coat, red mane, and coltish smile were, polished black carapace with holed limbs, a long red-brown mane pulled into a ponytail at the base of his head, deep brown eyes, and tiny, glinting fangs peeking out from a happy nymph’s grin.
“Everyone! I’m home!” he called, his voice breaking so slightly. The little nymph bounded forth and stopped just at the open passage, bouncing on the very tips of his hooves. “I brought some friends you’ve just got to meet! Come see! Come see!”
Natural form.
He’d just resumed his natural form in a penthouse in the middle of Manehattan, where any pegasus could just happen to fly by at the wrong moment. And right in front of a nice, big window for them to look through. As if the little fool wasn’t blowing enough of a raspberry at fate.
Surely—surely—no changeling could be that dense.
And yet, there he was. Happy as can be, beaming like a loon while he bounced about and called for his family.
All he was missing at that point was a spotlight.
“What in the name of Morrigan’s crown are you doing?” Enticier cried, aghast.
Redwood started and turned to fix him with a quizzical look. “Huh?”
“Change back this instant!” The Prince of Enchanters jabbed a hoof at the window. “Are you daft? If a pegasus flies by, you’ll be seen!”
“Uh … no I won’t.” The little nymph let out a merry chitter. “You’re a riot, Your Highness!”
“Now, Reddy, be nice,” a rich, cultured stallion’s voice sounded from the next room, and with it, steady hoof steps. A changeling stepped around the corner to greet them, his mane the same color as Redwood’s, yet shorter and combed back. His golden brown eyes shone with life and vitality, and just a faint hint of that familiar Enchanter allure.
Not nearly as strong as Aspire’s own, let alone Enticier’s, but it was there. Drawing inward, like a whisper to forget everything and just look into those eyes.
“Our windows are one way, one of the very first things our family’s always has put into place when we build a new building. Our penthouses are a safe haven for us, and any hiveless changeling, should trouble arise.” Pausing to greet them with a nod, he tussled Redwood’s mane and said, “You’ll have to excuse my youngest. My nymphs have grown quite used to being able to resume natural form as long as they don’t have their friends up for a visit, so they tend to think nothing of it.”
Aspire allowed himself to breathe. One-way glass windows. Of course.
No changeling would be so dense, after all, to stand in front of a window in natural form in the midst of a pony city or town. The hiveless, least of all.
He laughed and let his weight lean against Sure Stroke. “Freaking nymphs,” he muttered. “One of these days, they’re gonna be the death of me.”
“Says the teacher.” Sure Stroke nosed against his cheek. “You okay?”
“I will be once my heart stops spazzing. Ent?”
“Working on it.” The Prince of Enchanters eyed the hiveless pair, slowly letting out a deep sigh. After a moment, he spoke up again. “I apologize for shouting in your home, sir.”
Their host chittered and shook his head. “No need, I appreciate you trying to look out for my son.” He raised a hoof to gesture to them. “I see you two are our kind, and you’re their companion, miss? If not, I’d imagine this might be more surprising.”
“You could say that.” Sure Stroke placed a hoof upon Aspire’s chest and smiled. “This is my boyfriend, Aspire. I’m Sure Stroke.”
“Delighted to meet you. I am Redwood’s father, Lumière de L’Amour, owner and proprietor of Heart’s Haven.” Lumière turned to look into the next room and waggled his ears at someone. “Come, come, dearest! You’ll make us rude hosts, letting our son’s guests wait like this!”
A changeling mare with a flowing mane a lovely white-pink cherry blossoms stepped out to meet him just as he finished speaking and chittering laugh. Her cheeks flecked with tiny droplets of paint.
“Then perhaps you would like to cook dinner tonight, lover!” She leaned in as though to kiss him, then turned away at the last minute to rob him of the chance, instead forcing him to kiss her paint-spattered cheek.
“Oooh, very nice,” Aspire heard Sure Stroke praise under her breath. “I like her already.”
He turned to fix her with a stern look. “Don’t get any ideas, you.”
The innocent little smile she shot back spoke of insolence the likes of which only a Respite mare could know. And only one who’d learned it from his sister and he.
Lumière de L’Amour, to his credit, took his wife’s little play in stride. “My dear wife, Cherry Blossom,” he said.
“Nice to meet you,” Cherry greeted with a bright smile and a discrete little flick of her tongue. The corners of her mouth twitched, she stepped away from her husband and held out a hoof to the disguised changelings. “You’re welcome to shed those disguises if you feel comfortable, cousins. As my husband said, no pony other than she will see.”
Aspire bit the inside of his cheek. Save for one or two little pranks where a lookout was involved, it went against everything, instinct and practice. There was a darn good reason such antics were so far and few between.
No changeling wanted to find out what might happen if they were caught among ponies outside their hive.
He looked to Enticier and found his thoughts met with matching unease. The Prince of Enchanters shrugged, then, in a flash of green fire, shed his disguise to reveal his true form.
For the first time in just under a year, Aspire got to see his friend face to face and see just how much he’d grown. Those orange mane of his had been cut a bit shorter toward the back and was combed a bit neater, more styled, but his bangs were still just as long and framed his face just perfectly. Just the right way to draw one to look into his fiery orange eyes and lose themselves to his charm.
His fangs had lengthened quite nicely as well, though not quite as much as Aspire’s. They were shorter, almost coy in how they peeked from behind his lip to display their lethal tips. And, by Morrigan, he had grown since last time!
He actually looked down upon Aspire.
Sniffing, Aspire let his disguise burn away too, his eyes never leaving Enticier. He’s definitely grown into that look. It suits him very well.
“Oh, come on!” Sure Stroke flicked her tail, glaring up at Enticier. “You’ve got to be pulling a trick on me, you didn’t grow that much since last time you visited!”
The Prince of Enchanter gave a warm smile, one that could have sent a crowd of ponies’ hearts aflutter. “I’m a royal, dear,” he replied smoothly. “We’re naturally taller than other changelings.”
“A royal?” Lumière repeated, his smile faltering ever-so slightly. He and Cherry Blossom shared nervous glances, shifting in place. “I, er—do you mean an actual royal?”
“Of one of the great hives?” Cherry squeaked.
Aspire had to suck in his lips to hide a smile as Enticier inclined his head and let his smile melt into a more regal, fey like countenance as he truly became Prince Enticier.
“Enticier,” he replied. “Son of Lilith, Queen of the Enchanters of Paradise. And these are my dear friends.” His eyes sparkling, he nodded once and added, “At your service, sir.”
Any air of playfulness in Cherry and Lumière’s antics vanished in the blink of an eye. The owner and proprietor of Heart’s Haven jolted to stand at attention and bowed low, then moved to kneel before Enticier.
“Your Highness, forgive me,” he stammered hastily. “I didn’t realize—I thought my son was only teasing at the time—truly, it’s an honor to host the Royal Family of Enchanters! M-My family hasn’t known such in over a generation!”
“So Redwood told us!” Enticier chuckled. “He made quite the convincing case that we accept an invitation to dine with you. I hope it’s not imposing, I do understand this is rather sudden—”
“Not at all!” Cherry cut him off, hurrying to her husband’s side. Her cheeks flushing a deep black, she bowed her head and stammered out a quick apology for her interruption, then continued, “I-I can most certainly accommodate three guests! Morrigan knows I’ve fed my fair share of hungry nymphs for so many years …”
Chittering, Redwood hid a wicked grin behind his hoof and threw in, “Not our fault you have so many of us!”
His mother rounded on him with a hiss. “You could have buzzed the elevator and let us know in advanced, you little parasprite!” Her horn flashed and caught Redwood with a tendril of magic before he could scamper off to hide. “Just for that, you can help me cook while your father entertains His Highness and his partners! Come along, young nymph!”
As Redwood was floated and tugged along in his mother’s wake, wriggling and kicking and protesting vehemently with every step of the way, Aspire could do little but stand stock still, his jaw agape and entire face burning like a hot skillet. Out of the corner of his eye could see Sure Stroke bury her snout in her opposite wing to hide a blush, and how Enticier stiffened and bit his lip.
And how a deep blush spread to the nape of his neck and the very tips of his ears.
“Th-They’re not,” he whispered, just barely loud enough to be heard. “They’re not my …”
Her face still hidden, Sure Stroke reached over blindly and rubbed his shoulder. “It’s—It’s fine, Ent,” she said, her voice hitched and squeaky, as it tended to when she got so flustered. “Just an honest mistake.”
Enticier sucked in his lips and looked down, slowly reaching up to take her hoof in his and give it a squeeze. “I didn’t mean to make it sound like that.”
Aspire felt that pang shoot through his chest. Again, he cursed his younger self as he looked between his friend and their rather confused host. With a sheepish chuckle, he managed to signal for Lumière to give them a moment or two alone, mindful of his friend’s feelings.
All the while, fighting the urge to turn and give him however big a hug it took to chase away whatever pain still lingered.
As one might imagine considering the furnishings on ground level, Lumière de L’Amour’s penthouse suite was every bit as lavish as was fitting for such a wealthy business owner. To say nothing of one who came from quite a long line of them, given he’d inherited several such condominiums and more.
The entire top floor of Heart’s Haven had been dedicated to the hiveless family’s private living space, which gave them no shortage of room to do with what they pleased in terms of design and layout. The sitting room, for example, could no doubt have been able to fit all four bedrooms in their home back in Respite!
There were no less then a dozen bedrooms—some still furnished with the beds, dressers, and old nicknacks of the sons and daughters of the hiveless couple, with one or two reserved as guest rooms—a full kitchen, a rather modestly sized office with an oaken desk and plush cushion and polished grandfather clock where Lumière would no doubt sit and labor over his businesses and their profits, but there was one room among all others that was most striking. For one of their number, at least.
And just why shouldn’t Sure Stroke let out such an excited gasp when Lumière bade them enter a room full of splendorous paintings hanging upon the wall, blank canvases resting against a rack, an easel and assorted brushes, and an unfinished portrait of the famed Lady Harmony standing tall in the middle of Manehattan Bay?
Why shouldn’t the taste of utmost delight—like sweet candied apple slices dipped in caramel—thicken the air such that Aspire’s eyes crossed and his tail swished?
“Who’s the family artist?” Sure Stroke breathed.
Lumière beamed. “You like them?”
“Like them? I love them!” Her feathers fluffing, the little pegasus mare shuffled into the room and spun about, biting her lip in vain attempt to hide her glee as she tried to take in every image at once. Sure Stroke swished her tail like a little filly before turning her gaze upon their hose once more. “Was it—”
“Me? Ha!” The hiveless changeling shook his head, smiling ruefully. “I’m afraid not. Anything I try to make with my hooves ends up looking like a crime—a crime against the laws of nature and the eyes, if you’d believe it. Cherry and Reddy are the family artists.”
“Really?”
“Cherry did have a bit of paint spattered on her cheek,” Aspire chipped in.
Sure Stroke made to speak, but stopped and furrowed her brows. “Come to think of it, good point. Why didn’t I make that connection? That’s just silly of me.” She shook her head and sighed. “Anyway, I meant more Redwood being the shocker.”
Lumière gave a knowing nod. “Yes, I hear that a lot. Reddy doesn’t exactly seem much of an artist at first glance. Not until you get him talking or he sees someone or something he just needs to draw.” Chuckling, he nodded to a rather fetching painting of Penny, Swizzle, and Twizzle, each beaming back at the viewer like they were waiting to go out and play. “His little friends don’t sit still much, but he convinces them from time to time. Otherwise, he’s good with scenery and a few of the mares from his mother’s theater group.”
A theater group as well? Aspire hummed, impressed. Quite the multi-faceted family, this hiveless bunch.
Filthy stinking rich, indeed, just as Penny said. And for good reason, it seemed.
“Your family has certainly done well for themselves over the years,” Enticier praised. “Your wife mentioned you had many nymphs, and you that Redwood was the youngest?”
Their host’s cheeks flushed again. “Thank you, You’re Highness. And yes, we have twelve in total, if you believe it. The others have moved out and either help manage the other condominiums or resorts, or have joined their mother in the arts community. Redwood was sort of our last little surprise, as it were.”
Sure Stroke’s ears twitched. “Twelve nymphs?” She cast a sidelong look at Aspire and Enticier, smirking playfully. “I don’t know how you managed it. I could barely survive my friends and they weren’t even my young.”
Aspire blew a breath through his nose and raised his brows at her. It was like that, was it?
He’d be sure to remember that remark. As would Enticier, judging by his taste.
Unwise, slighting both of them at once. Quiet unwise. And Esalen and Nimble by proxy as well.
A little something to keep ready, now that we know Ent’s okay, he thought to himself. A bit of mischief and teasing would be a good return to normal.
Lumière, whether unaware of the slight or simply feigning innocence, chuckled and waggled his ears. “Some days, I wondered that myself. That aside—” he waved his hoof about the room “—I take it from you’re reaction, you’re a fellow artist?”
“Quite a brilliant one,” Enticier interjected with a purr. His eyes shone with wicked delight at the color which rose in the little mare’s cheeks. “You should see the lovely picture she drew for me when we first met—I still have it framed, sitting on my desk in my office in Paradise.”
“And I keep the one she did of the rainbow fountain of Cloudsdale on mine at home,” Aspire added, his grin shameless both in pride and delight at seeing his girlfriend try to hide behind fluffing wings.
Just as she deserved for her cheek, and for such genuine talent.
And it only served to pique Lumière’s interest.
“Oho? Is that so?” he asked. “Well, perhaps one day you’d be willing to share your talents with us. Or perhaps I might convince you to allow me to commission you, hmm?”
Sure Stroke’s face turned such a brilliant shade of red, Aspire would’ve dared say she’d splashed paint all over herself. “Wha—me?” she squeaked, burying her snout deeper in her feathers. “C-Commissioned work?”
“If you’d be willing, of course. That’s entirely up to you, my dear,” Lumière replied smoothly. He gave her a light pat on the shoulder and steered her back to the doorway where Aspire and Enticier awaited. “But perhaps that can wait a bit, no? Let’s adjourn to the sitting room for a bit.”
Snickering, Aspire did as any good boyfriend would and wrapped a hoof around Sure Stroke’s shoulders so he could direct her to stand between himself and Enticier. Squeezed between the two changelings she’d just slighted, a situation not lost upon her, by how she ducked her head and let her ears splay.
“Oh,” Enticier muttered, leaning in close to murmur in her ear, just loud enough for Aspire to hear. “To take back unfortunate words, dear Doodle, no?”
“She wishes,” Aspire purred. “And I think Lumière just gave us the perfect avenue for a little fun.”
He flicked his tongue, savoring the delectable tastes of flattery and flustered embarrassment, coupled with the adorable little way Sure Stroke buried her face into his shoulder and whimpered in protest.
Poor mare.
There would be no escape for her. Certainly not with Lumière’s open intrigue in her work.
Or how delighted little Redwood had been to host them.
The visiting trio adjourned to the vast sitting room and took their seats upon the plush pink couch, while Lumière happily swished his tail and claimed the matching loveseat as his own. With a contented buzz of his wings, he reclined in his seat and made himself comfortable.
“So, what do you think?” he asked, his eyes lingering expectantly upon Enticier.
Enticier, for his part, gave an approving nod. “Truly, your home displays all the looks of a successful family, and one with diverse talent, at that.” He cast a meaningful look over his shoulder to the kitchen and smiled. “And your youngest is quite the polite nymph, even before realizing my status.”
“You flatter me, Highness.”
“Deservedly so.” He waggled his ears. “I’d never played those arcade games before, and he was kind enough to show me when I appeared just a changeling in disguise and treated me just as he did my friends. My parents would highly approve of that.”
“As would mine, for what that’s worth,” Aspire put in.
To his surprise, Lumière bowed his head. “To hear such praise from royalty and a Respite-born Caretaker means quite a lot. My wife will be delighted.”
True enough. The Marauders and Caretakers had always been rather closely tied. After all, of the hives, only the Marauders had ever split peacefully—the younger sister of Queen Tracheatum favored wandering the land to aid and entertain rather than waiting to provide, and had been granted her appeal to leave with those of similar mind.
That had been enough to bring a couple decades of peace while the other hives tried to wrap their heads around how such a shift without blood could have possibly come about. Changeling pride, after all, was no small matter. Least of all when one walked away from their ruler.
Cherrywood chose that moment to glide in from the kitchen and wrap her husband in a loose embrace. “What will I be delighted about, dear?” She nuzzled into his mane. “Don’t tell me you’ve gone and bought another theater or dance club.”
“Mmmm, not this time.” With a cheeky smile, Lumère tilted his head back and pecked beneath her chin. “Though, we apparently have another artist in our midst, in Miss Sure Stroke.”
Her ears perked up, the hiveless changeling looked up to survey Sure Stroke a moment. “Is she now?” Cherry purred, drawing a fresh bout of squirming from the flustered mare. Then, her gaze flitted to either changeling at her side and a knowing smile spread across her features. With a flick of her tongue, her eyes glinted. “Judging by how His Highness and Aspire taste of pride and amusement, you’re quite talented, no?”
Sure Stroke began to sink low, like she wished to slip between the cushions and escape her gaze. “I do okay!” the poor mare squeaked.
A pair of snorts and a slick nip of the ear from Aspire didn’t help her case.
Nor did Aspire turning to reply, “It’s like looking at the scenery through a window.”
Sure Stroke buried her face in his chest and hid herself beneath a wing. A babbling, rapid squeak which sounded something like “Oh my stars, you jerk!” her only reply.
Chittering merrily, Cherry waggled her ears. “Well, hopefully you all visit our fair city again soon so I can pester you to share it. I’m always eager to see what another can do. For now, though, dinner awaits.” She kissed the top of her husband’s head and released her embrace. “Have you ever had haddock, Highness?”
Enticier perked his ears. “I haven’t, but I’ve heard it’s rather nice.”
“Oh, it’s quite lovely. I think you’ll enjoy it.”
They rose and followed Cherry over to the dining room table, though Sure Stroke took a little coaxing to get her face out from beneath her wing. A wing which twitched as if to reunite with the back of Aspire’s head again, before she wrapped it around his neck and shoulders and pulled him into a tight hug.
Close enough that he could feel her cheeks burning with their flattery.
Excellent.
Just as a good, doodly pegasus such as herself deserved.
When they arrived in the dining room, they were met by little Redwood dutifully floating dishes and cutlery into place. The scents of spice, a sort of buttery sauce, and fish, a sort Aspire had never tasted let alone smelled before, was enough to make his mouth water. His mother, surely, would have excused the shameless way he ran his tongue along either side of his muzzle and fangs.
She’d have done the same, he told himself. No matter how many years of evidence there was to the contrary.
Aspire sat himself down across the table from Lumère, still wrapped tight beneath his girlfriend’s wing as snuggled up on a cushion nice and close to him. This time, Enticier chose his opposite side, so he could appease his little friend’s want to chat.
To be fair, who could blame him? For a hiveless nymph, this was like a holiday.
And as soon as Redwood hurried into his seat, he launched into a flurry of questions as eager as a nymph trying to sneak peaks at his Sharers’ Day presents.
“Which part of the Ardent Mountains is the main lodge in?”
“Is it true there are kelpies and sea ponies in Lovers’ Cove? And they come visit on the solstices to sing with you?”
“What’s it like getting to manage the resorts?”
And on and on he went, throwing out any question he could think of the instant it came to mind.
Enticier, to his credit, smiled through it all and seemed quite pleased to answer in between bites of fish and pasta. This was his element, Aspire realized. Perhaps a bit different, as he played the part of guest rather than doting host, but with that same sense of … was it decorum? Patience?
To Tartarus with it. Aspire was just going to call it his innate Enticier charm—quite a bit different from his Enchanter charm, mind.
The teacher’s apprentice opted to go ahead and take his first bite of haddock to spare himself any further failures of linguistics. Scolding himself and trying to argue within his own head on such subjects tended to get a little awkward after a while. Especially around others.
Staring off in the distance wasn’t exactly good manners, whether guest or host.
Awaking to the feeling of strong, chitinous hooves wrapped tight around her waist and having to bite her lips to withhold a croon at the teasing sensation of fangs playing upon her coat was hardly new to Sure Stroke. Hardly new, but it never failed to bring a smile to her lips, no matter how tired she was.
It just played into the reason Aspire had to fight her so to get out of his bedpod every morning. No, it wasn’t that she was a whiny, sleepy mare, no matter what he said.
Well, that was a bit of it, yes. Sleep was nice and she did enjoy stealing a few extra minutes of it when possible.
His embrace, however, now that was well worth the extra effort to struggle.
This morning was slightly different, though. Yes, those hooves and fangs and that warm, angular snout nuzzling into the back of her neck were all quite familiar and right, the perfect combination to sate her morning wants. But Sure Stroke knew for certain this bed, soft and warm and lovely though it was, wasn’t hers.
And any pony who could possibly confuse a bed for the all-encompassing warmth and security of a changeling’s bedpod conforming to their body was simply daft. Daft and in need of a friend to steal them from their home for a sleepover, but that was quite beside the point.
The point was that Sure Stroke knew she definitely hadn’t awoken in her own bed or Aspire’s bedpod.
Slowly, her brain began to jar itself free of the blissful entanglements of sleep’s mighty web and Sure Stroke was able to bring herself back to present and remember herself. Her ears twitched slightly.
She wasn’t back home in Respite like she was meant to be. At least, not as Aspire and she intended when planning their trip to see Enticier. Things had changed. That little detour to the Arcadopolis had put them just off schedule enough to miss their trains.
And then, she remembered the little hiveless nymph, Redwood, and his family.
Right. Sure Stroke blinked blearily to try and chase away that lingering vestige of sleep. Smiling to herself, she leaned back against her boyfriend and took a moment’s solace in his embrace. We stayed the night in their penthouse. In their eldest’s room.
Aspire mumbled in his sleep and shifted closer still, pressing his lips just beneath her jawline. The little mare’s eyes fluttered as she let out a happy croon and swished her tail.
Even fast asleep, he found ways to set her heart aflutter.
The lovable pest.
Unfortunately, they would have to get up soon enough as it was so they could make their way to the train station. So, morning cuddles would have to be put on a bit of a hold.
Though, that didn’t necessarily mean she couldn’t let him sleep a little longer either. Celestia knew he could use it, after all the stress he’d put up with dealing with his students and worrying for Enticier.
Sure Stroke, however, needed to get herself moving or she’d fall back into her habits. Which meant it was time to engage in a far more difficult battle than her usual whining pleas for Aspire to let her sleep longer—trying to slip out of his grasp when he was still slumbering.
Telling Maple not to steal an extra plate of pancakes when they visited might’ve even been easier.
Slowly, carefully, Sure Stroke began the arduous process of escaping those strong hooves around her waist. She wriggled and squirmed, mindful to keep her wings tucked tight and prayed the soft caress of her feathers against his carapace didn’t rouse him as she coaxed his hooves apart and slipped free, then slid gracefully off the bed.
Aspire stirred and gave a sleepy moan, turning as he tried to nose against the back of her neck once more, but found the pillow instead. Sure Stroke didn’t dare breathe, her ears splaying as she waited to see if her boyfriend’s eyes might flutter open.
They didn’t. That sleepy, contented smile remained in place.
Perfect.
Sure Stroke released the breath she’d been holding and stood up straight, making as though to turn and beat a hasty retreat from the room before she noticed something strange: a tuft of familiar fiery orange mane and an extra hoof laying upon Aspire’s shoulder.
She blinked. Could it be? No. Certainly not.
Then again … Aspire had been rather different toward him over the past couple years. Especially recently.
Tilting her head, Sure Stroke crept closer and dared to rear up, placing her hoof upon the edge of the bed frame so not to disturb the mattress or the sleeping changelings laid upon it.
Yes. Changelings.
Enticier had indeed slept in bed with them the night before, and there he lay still. His tall, handsome form huddled on his side to face Aspire, a small, respectable distance between the boys despite how he’d apparently shifted to place a hoof upon his longtime friend’s shoulder. A small smile played upon his lips, and every breath came coupled with a soft, rumbling purr from within his chest.
A sight which warmed her heart and forced her to cover her lips to forestall any noises of adoration, but couldn’t possibly contain her smile. Her favorite boys, huddled together like that after all the stress and drama and playing yesterday.
She longed to have Esalen’s camera. Just to commemorate the moment—who could tease them for this? And who would dare disturb such a moment, too?
Certainly not she.
Quiet as Maple sneaking through the halls to awaken her cousin, Sure Stroke exited the room and tugged the door shut behind her. Only once it closed with a muted click of the latch did she allow herself to let out a happy little croon before she swept down the hall with a merry swishing of her long, purple tail, her mind set to see if she might purloin some tea to help wake herself up.
When she reached the kitchen, Sure Stroke was quite surprised to find Cherrywood, awake and milling about the cabinets clad in a sleek pink robe with the golden Heart’s Haven logo stitched over the left side of her breast.
“Ah! You’re awake!” Cherrywood greeted her with a bright smile. “I was afraid I might have to go wake you all, as tired as you were last night, dear.”
Sure Stroke felt her cheeks fill with color. “Was I really that tired?”
“I believe your beau was quite magnanimous in humoring your insistence that he was a sleepy changeling, but yes. Quite so.”
She didn’t need to see that smirk upon her boyfriend’s face to know she’d not hear the end of that one anytime soon. “I don’t suppose I could bother you for tea?” she asked softly.
“Of course.” Cherrywood lit her horn and floated a pair of mugs down off the shelf and set the kettle on the stove.
A few short minutes later, the mares had moved over to sit on the couch, each with a mug of steaming tea in hoof. Just the thing needed to get a mare up and moving, Sure Stroke thought as she took her first sip.
“I hope you enjoyed your visit to Manehattan,” Cherrywood said, idly savoring the scent of her own drink. “As well as your stay last night.”
Sure Stroke smiled over the brim of her mug. “I don’t think we’ve ever had a bad time in Manehattan,” she replied. “And yes, very much so. I can’t thank you enough for having us on such short notice.”
“You’re quite welcome. Of course, the three of you are more than welcome to stay with us the next time you visit. It might be a bit more comfortable for His Highness and Aspire not to need maintaining their disguises at all hours.”
Not a bad point, actually. Sure Stroke considered for a moment or two, how it must tax them to keep that form and concentrate to maintain it, even with that special little evolutionary tick that helped changelings keep it in mind. Come to think of it, would it help them conserve a bit of love if they stayed at a place like this?
She’d have to ask Aspire to confirm that one. Perhaps something for her book.
Sure Stroke froze with her teacup mere inches from her lips. Her book! When was the last time she’d even thought about the silly thing?
Though, considering she’d been preoccupied with her trade with Faith and worrying about Aspire and Enticier, perhaps one could forgive her for letting that fade to the back of her mind. Not to mention that she didn’t even have a mentor to guide her along.
Something to bring up to Breezy when they returned. He had mentioned they were working on getting someone to help, after all.
“I think the boys would be happy to take you up on that,” she said finally. “Thank you for the offer.”
“No trouble at all. Now, then.” Cherry set her mug down upon the table, her eyes flashing with a familiar gleam. That of a changeling eager to poke and prod secrets free from pony lips. “So, since it’s just us girls and we didn’t get to talk about it all that much last night, tell me, dear, what sort of artist are you?”
Color returned to her cheeks, bleeding down to the nape of her neck. “Er. Well, I mostly do sketches and paintings,” Sure Stroke admitted. “I’m trying to get into writing a book, but that’s hit a snag.”
The changeling mare inclined her head. “Ah. I’m afraid I’m not much of a writer myself. If you ever wanted dancing or acting lessons, I’d be happy to help. Lumie as well.” At Sure Stroke’s confused look, she smiled. “Lumie doesn’t talk about it much, but we both do a little voice work on the side. Some of the voices in those games at Arcadopolis, for example.”
Voice work as a changeling? Quite an interesting use of their natural gifts, the same with acting and dancing.
Honestly, though? It made her quite happy to hear. Why shouldn’t they put their natural gifts to use bettering their family and bringing in bits to provide?
“Well,” Sure Stroke said with a smile, “if there’s one thing I can say about Respite, it’s that one doesn’t exactly live there and keep friends with the Caretakers for long without learning quite a bit about their dances and songs.”
“That, I can imagine. I’d love to see them in person, myself, someday.” With a wistful sigh, Cherry took a long sip of her tea. “Someday.”
Her ears flicking, Sure Stroke saw a chance to return the favor and offer a bit of Respite hospitality. “If you ever have time to visit around the Summer or Winter Solstice, you could stay with us and see it. Though, our home isn’t nearly as splendorous as yours.”
The changeling mare chittered. “That would be quite nice. And, please, dear. It’s not been so long since I came from a smaller home that I’ve grown disdainful of anything unlike this.”
“Oh!” Sure Stroke covered her mouth, cursing herself. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply it quite like that.”
Cherry reached over and patted her wrist. “Oh, honey, you’re far from the first and you won’t be the last to think I came from money because I married into one of the richest families in Equestria. Quite the contrary, to be honest.”
“I … honestly, I figured—”
“That my family was one famed for producing great artists or dealers? Or perhaps a famed line of dancers and actors?” She shook her head. “Certainly, I do have a few actors in my family whose names you might know here and there, but not in my immediate family. I grew up with four brothers in a rather small apartment out in the Blistering Broncos neighborhood.”
Sure Stroke winced at the name, drawing a nod from her hostess.
“You’re familiar with its reputation, then?”
“I’ve heard things are a bit … rough and tumble, and that the Royal Guards there tend to have to get physical a lot.”
Nodding, Cherry sipped her tea. “You heard right. My brothers ended up joining the Royal Guard specifically so they could try to help keep things in order. Although, two of them were sent to the harbor districts in Baltimare because of some smuggling issues.” She shook her head. “Those four were always in trouble because they’d pick a fight with anyone who picked on me. They brawled such that the sailors by the harbor were impressed, if you’ll believe it.”
Believe it?
After seeing Aspire wrestle for years and knowing how changelings took slights, Sure Stroke could imagine how he or Esalen might react if they caught someone bullying the other. The images she conjured weren’t pretty.
“So, from fighting on the streets to keeping order,” Sure Stroke mused. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. Aspire went from a little punk who caused trouble … to a punk who teaches foals and nymphs.”
“Yes. Funny how growing up a little tends to change that, no?” With a fond smile, Cherry set her mug down once more and flicked her tail. “And me, from the little nymph from Blistering Broncos that Lumie saw only so often at gatherings of the hiveless to the changeling who ensnared his heart.”
Laughing, Sure Stroke leaned forward and propped her chin upon the back of her free hoof. “You’ve got to tell me how you managed it. I can barely keep mine in line as is!”
“Ah!” Cherry’s ears perked up. “Now, that is a tale I’m quite fond of. The long version might be too much, given you’ll need to wake His Highness and Aspire soon, but I’m sure I can keep it nice and short and sweet for you.”
The mares reclined against the cushions, Sure Stroke curious to hear the tale, even if it might be a shorter version. The family interested her. She couldn’t quite put her hoof on why exactly, but something about how they lived, how they could hold onto what made them changelings with tradition and nature and somehow find such success, just called to her like a siren song.
And her hostess knew just which notes to hit.
“As I mentioned a bit ago, Lumie and I knew each other in passing growing up,” Cherry began. “All the hiveless families in the city meet up on shared holidays—the solstices, mostly—either in one of the penthouses Lumie’s family owned or out in the woods. But, to one another at the time, he was the heir to the biggest fortune any hiveless in the city had amassed, and I was just a filly who could paint and sing and dance better than any. So, if we talked, it was usually him asking to commission me or us agreeing to dance together.”
Pausing a moment, she offered a half shrug of her shoulders. “You could honestly say we were quite a far sight from anything like a ‘filly next door’ story!”
Certainly, so. If she grew up in Blistering Broncos, Sure Stroke could hardly imagine many ponies of similar standing to Lumière’s family would want their sons or daughters consorting with one of Cherrywood’s. Especially if her brothers had such a reputation.
“So then,” Sure Stroke mused. “How does a nymph from the roughest, toughest neighborhood in Manehattan catch the eye of the heir to a fortune if not at one of these events?”
“Well, to be fair, I did manage to do that as we got through high school,” Cherry admitted. “But the way I really got to him was when I started dancing in some of the big dance halls and nightclubs around town. Between art and that, that’s actually how I ended up earning so much money myself—a different mare for each club, depending on the clientele.”
The smaller mare nodded. That made a lot of sense. Utilizing her natural gifts to get around any unease an employer had about a mare with multiple jobs, multiple clubs and dance halls in which she performed. Sure Stroke could imagine that got quite draining, though.
Unless …
“You fed passively to keep from wearing out physically.” At Cherry’s nod, her brows shot up and disappeared beneath her bangs. “How did you not just burn out mentally?”
Cherry chittered. “Who ever said I didn’t?” she asked playfully. “I didn’t last too long going full tilt like that, I don’t know if anyone could. But I did it long enough that I could comfortably afford my own place, then started picking out which of my façades was more popular so I could focus on them and increase my asking rates. So, after about … a year or so, I was working some of the higher-end clubs that Lumie frequented. Both sorts.”
“Both?”
Those soft pink eyes sparkled with delight. “Oh, darling, I almost hate shattering the image of me you must have.” Cherry leaned in close, her gaze never leaving Sure Stroke’s eyes. “I danced at some after dark clubs in my younger years. If you catch my meaning.”
Oh.
Sure Stroke had to fight the urge to hide her burning cheeks beneath her wings. “I-I honestly never would’ve imagined—”
“No one does, dear. Like I said, they all think I grew up in the same circles Lumie did.” With a shrug, Cherry continued on. “Anyway. I was dancing at one of the higher-end after dark clubs—this was after I’d picked up enough clout with one of my old guides—and Lumie came in. Surprising at first to see him there, but he was a healthy young changeling, so why shouldn’t he? Naturally, we could pick out that we were both changelings—”
“Wait, you can do that?”
“Why, yes. To my knowledge, most changelings can tell when a pony isn’t really a pony on sight.”
“Huh. I didn’t know that.” Something else to bother Aspire and Esalen about once we’re home, Esalen noted, filing it away for later. “So … how did that go once you both realized?”
Her host beamed. “Well, he called me over to the bar and bought me a drink, and we got to chatting a bit. When I introduced myself, he remembered me from some of our solstice get-togethers and things just sort of progressed from there. He was certainly interested in my art and dancing, and asked about commissioning me for the former and, well …” Her cheeks flushing just slightly, Cherry reached down and began to play idly with her mug. “Asked if he might interest me in dinner at his younger brother, Déclaration d’Amour’s restaurant—a lovely Prench establishment called Son Premier Amour.”
“I’m not as familiar with the local restaurants, but I’m going to guess Déclaration is to them as Lumière is to condominiums and such?”
“As my in-laws would say, naturellement. And it was already considered the romantic restaurant to eat in those days.” She turned her mug about with the tip of her hoof. “Even if I hadn’t been a Blistering Broncos girl, that would’ve probably had me struggling not to grin, but I managed to so I could play with him a little.”
Sure Stroke waggled her ears. “Oh, Celestia, you made him earn it?”
Cherry’s smile turned decidedly too innocent to be true. Why were changelings so bad at that? Then again, maybe they were actually skilled in it just because they so delighted in bragging about their conquests.
In her experience, both were quite valid.
“I challenged him to play a game,” Cherry replied, purring with glee. “I’d noticed that he showed up at different clubs each week, sometimes on Tuesday but he’d always make it out Friday night from what I’d heard. So, I challenged him to play a special version of hide and seek with me.”
A challenge to play hide and seek with a changeling. And with all the clubs in Manehattan in play. Aspire would’ve been relentless. And he’d have never let her hear the end of it once he won.
Then again, Sure Stroke liked to think she’d be winning out on that one as well.
“So, what sort of game was it?” she asked.
“Just the way two changelings in a big city like this can play. I would choose different disguises, old ones and new, and he’d come and see if he could guess which place I’d be next.” The hiveless changeling cupped her cheeks and sighed. “And when he did, I’d sneak up and give him a kiss on the cheek, then tuck a cherry blossom behind his mane, then give him a hint where I’d be next. Went on for about a month before he actually found me before I noticed him.”
Sure Stroke grinned. “I can imagine he reveled in that.”
“He should. I nearly melted when I heard him purr in my ear that night. Managed to survive that and dinner before I actually did when he took me home.”
Whether she noticed Sure Stroke’s blush or simply didn’t care, the pegasus couldn’t say. But the way she beamed and rubbed her shoulder, her eyes looking across the room at nothing in particular told her there was little intent of teasing.
Just happy memories.
“And I’ve been his ever since,” Cherry finished. “Thirty-four years and twelve nymphs later.”
“That’s … actually really, really romantic. And a really changeling way of courting, honestly. I think I’m a little jealous I didn’t get that myself. The game and courting I mean,” she hastily added when Cherry fixed her with an amused look.
Her hostess patted her wrist. “It was fun, yes. But would you really trade what you enjoyed with yours?”
The look on Aspire’s face when she’d kissed him in the Tunnel of Love two years prior flashed before her eyes and brought a fond smile to her lips.
She shook her head.
Cherry chuckled. “I thought not.” Her eyes flitted to look at something just over Sure Stroke’s shoulder and she smiled and rose. “And speak of the devils and they shall appear! I hope you both slept well.”
Sure Stroke turned to greet the boys, just in time for Aspire to press his nose against hers and purr.
“Slipped out of my hooves awful early,” he rumbled. “Maybe I should’ve wrapped you up instead.”
“When we need to leave for the station?” Enticier quipped tiredly.
“Quiet, you.”
The pegasus arched a brow and bit back an easy shot of her own. She’d press him on that little detail when they were on the train home, safely out of earshot of Enticier or their hosts, so he couldn’t try to wriggle his way out or claim a slight of embarrassment.
My own little way of following your example, Cherry, she mused. Though, you’ll have to excuse me if I don’t take up dancing in after dark clubs.
Why not get just a little creative in how she kept her favorite changeling on the proverbial leash? He certainly was in how he played his own games.
She nuzzled Aspire, then turned to smile back at Cherry once more. “Thank you for the tea and conversation,” she said with a slight bow of her head. “And everything.”
“Of course.” Cherry nodded in kind. “Now, let’s get you three downstairs so we can arrange transportation to the station. Walking with the sort of weather we’ve had of late is a prospect I certainly wouldn’t welcome.”
When Cherrywood had said transportation, Sure Stroke had been expecting that she’d just ask the door stallion to hail one of those taxis pulled by the big burly stallions she’d always seen tromping through the streets. So, when the elevator doors slid open and the hiveless family led she and the boys out through the lobby and the turnstile door to reveal a full-blown white carriage with the Heart’s Haven golden heart emblazoned upon the face of the door, attended by a pair of stallions built like they’d been chiseled out of solid stone. The stateroom treatment from a wealthy family to a prince and his friends—friends whom they thought were quite a bit more.
Sure Stroke really should have known better.
Little Redwood’s family kept their goodbyes nice and brief and respectful, no doubt mindful of their need to get a good move on if they hoped to make it home at any reasonable hour. Though, Redwood, back in his earth pony disguise, did catch Enticier in a tight, lingering hug that made even the disguised prince give a hint of a wince through his laughter before the nymph released his grip and hurried off to school with his friends. A cry that he ought to come back and visit soon sent back over his shoulder.
That had been enough to draw a ripple of chuckles from the adults as Cherry met Sure Stroke’s eye and cast a wink. Her silent message one wishing the smaller mare the best of luck keeping the boys in line.
Filing a note away for later to figure out a gentle way to clarify things without embarrassing Enticier, Sure Stroke said her goodbyes and then ducked into the carriage so they could embark once the Prince of Enchanters got settled into his seat.
That he made certain to leave ample space between himself and Aspire on the seat cushion only served to pique her curiosity. Just what had happened when she’d left the room?
Whatever it was, they spent the short ride over to Manehattan Station in near silence, though the tension and anxiety from the day before was mercifully absent. They would smile and chat here and there, but in a sort of tired, muted manner. With far less teasing and wordplay, more just … two old friends being happy to be in one another’s company, brief awkwardness aside.
Upon their arrival, Enticier made sure to tip the stallions two bits each before he turned and led Aspire and Sure Stroke into the station, all the way up to the ticket counter.
“Welcome to Manehattan Station,” an elderly mare with silvery mane and pale orange coat greeted, her bright green eyes appeared a size or three larger behind a pair of thick, circle-rimmed glasses. “How many and what destination, dears?”
“One for Paradise Station,” Enticier replied, then gestured to Aspire and Sure Stroke. “And then two for Neighagara Junction as well.”
The ticket mare nodded and tapped a couple buttons on her till. “Six bits for Paradise Station, two each for Neighagara Junction,” she announced before the till chimed and displayed the full price.
Aspire gave a dissatisfied grumble as he watched Enticier set ten bits upon the counter and retrieved the tickets that came sliding forth from the dispenser. “I could’ve paid for those you know.”
“I do,” Enticier replied with an amused smile. He floated their tickets over for Sure Stroke, adding, “And I said I’d be paying for them last night, so you knew this was coming. Therefore, O Venerable Smug One—” he reached out and booped Aspire’s nose “—you’ll just have to sit there and deal with it.”
Wrinkling his snout, Aspire fixed him with a mock glare. “I’m standing,” he deadpanned.
“And dealing with it.”
“Pest.”
“Bookworm.”
The old friends held their gazes a moment longer. Then, the corners of Aspire’s mouth twitched, and as Enticier grinned unabashed, he allowed a similar smile to spread across his features.
And when her boyfriend stepped forward and pulled Enticier into a tight embrace, so too did Sure Stroke.
“Stay in touch,” Aspire ordered, his voice soft. “And come visit if you feel lonely or stressed or just want to get away for a bit and hang out with everyone.”
“Seconded,” Sure Stroke chipped in before Enticier could reply.
The Prince of Enchanters closed his eyes and nodded, leaning into the hug. “I will, I promise.” he murmured as he wrapped a hoof around Aspire’s shoulders. “And, likewise, you’re both always welcome in Paradise. I’ll make sure everyone knows you’re off-limits before you arrive.”
The happy couple shared a look and matching smiles. Aspire released his embrace and stepped over to allow himself to be taken under Sure Stroke’s wing again. “Y’know,” he said, “I think we’d both like that a lot, Ent. And I’d definitely be glad to take you up on that.”
“Then we’ll have to make arrangements for our visits.” Enticier stepped over to offer Sure Stroke a loose, but lingering hug. “Take care of him,” he murmured softly. “Please.”
The same message he’d left with her two years prior.
Sure Stroke leaned in and rubbed her cheek against his. “You know I will,” she whispered. Throwing caution to the wind, she turned and planted a chaste kiss upon his cheek.
He started, jolting back to regard her with wide eyes and cheeks flushing rosy pink.
“Think of it as something to tide you over,” she explained, raising her brows to convey her meaning. “And my hope that your days back home will get better from here on.”
That blush tinged the tips of his ears. Enticier bowed his head to hide a smile and stepped back. “Thank you.” The disguised prince rubbed the cheek she’d kissed, his tail twitching. “I, er, I had probably better go to, um … uh …”
Aspire snickered. “Your train?”
“Yes! Train! That!” With a nervous laugh, he gave a little wave and began shuffling backward “Mine is this way, I think yours is on the other end. Safe travels, you two!” he called, before turning and hurrying off into the crowd.
“Wow. There really is a first time for everything.” Shaking his head, Aspire steered Sure Stroke in the opposite direction of their fleeing friend. His smile spread into a toothy grin. “Though, I wonder if I should be jealous of that little kiss there. What do you think, honey?”
Sure Stroke would have cowered and squirmed at that smile two years prior.
In fact, the anticipating shiver it sent down her spine nearly made her do so. His games never failed to put a fluff in her feathers.
However, she’d learned them quite well, and knew just the way to play.
And, here, she knew just the way to put him in much the same place she’d unwittingly put Enticier.
With a smile as sweet as honey fresh from the hive, she leaned up to whisper in his ear, “Only if I should be jealous of how he was cuddling you this morning. And only if you’d like to tell me why you boys made sure to put near a full-pony’s worth of space between the two of you in the carriage.”
Aspire didn’t stop sputtering and blushing to the very nape of his neck until long after their train embarked.
The round belonged to the little pegasus from Cloudsdale.
