“Oh, love, no more, please!” Twilight clutched at her aching belly, her cheeks aching so she thought her faceplate might develop cracks and tears streaming freely down her cheeks. She wheezed and squeezed her eyes shut. “You can’t be serious!”

“But I am!” Pinkie leapt upon the table and kicked over an empty plate, brandishing a butter knife like an old heroine of Equestria drawing her rapier. She had even fashioned herself a napkin hat. “The Dread Pirate Pie had captured Princess Pumpkin Cake! Everything was going according to plan, for only her brother, the noble Prince Pound Cake, could possibly save her! He came striding into the kitchen—I mean! Onto the deck of my galley! Yes! That!”

Of course the galley. Twilight bit the inside of her cheek, her molars safe enough not to puncture the skin. Watching Pinkie Pie tell a story was a production, to say the least.

The mare should have been born a changeling. The only way this performance could be perfected was if she could actually become the subjects of her tale—how she leapt from portraying one character to the next with such seamless ease, how she imitated each voice, each cadence and style of speech, and did it with such fluidity that Twilight’s hive would give a nod of approval all screamed “somewhere way back, I have changeling heritage!”

Could she?

Likely not. But there was far too much showmareship in her for Twilight not to at least entertain the notion.

“And onto the galley deck did he stride!” Pinkie continued. Whether unaware of how her efforts so tormented the Princess of the Seekers with endless mirth or simply eager to see her suffer more, Twilight could only wonder. “Armed not with his trusty paper towel tube—Mrs. Cake wouldn’t let us make him a toy sword because he and Pumpkin accidentally poked each other ini the eye once—but instead …”

She held that pause for a long moment.

Long enough that Twilight felt just the slightest flicker of that fey blood in her, burning to know. “Oh, please!” she gasped. “Either end my pain or just put me out of my misery!”

Pinkie tossed her makeshift rapier aside and flailed her hooves wildly. “He came in with a piece of paper with a bunch of numbers scrawled on it!” she cried. “And when I asked what in the name of red velvet cupcakes he brought a list with numbers for, he looked at me like—” the mare tilted her head and gaped “—and just went ‘oh! I thought you said you wanted the dread pie rates, like bad pie prices. This makes way more sense.’”

It was that image, of a little foal of buttermilk coat and caramel mane looking between his caretaker and a slip of paper with figures scrawled upon it, which broke her.

Twilight fell back against her cushion, chittering uncontrollably, her shoulders shaking and fangs aquiver with mirth. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t speak. The poor changeling kicked her hind legs, hugging her barrel tight as if it might offer some relief to her aching ribs.

“And you laugh!” Pinkie cried, the glint in her eyes betraying mischief and amusement rather than any offense she might have wished. “All that setup I went through for their game, and you laugh! Fine then—laugh!”

The words had scarcely left her lips before Twilight found herself pounced upon and beset by that dastardly mare’s merciless assault, those cotton candy pink hooves expertly searching out the most vulnerable spots in her carapace to coax forth her laughter.

She said something, something about having never heard changeling laughter that wasn’t glee at hurting, but Twilight just couldn’t make it out. Her lone weakness had been found—not her frail, sickly body as her hive mates suspected, but a few soft spots on the underside of her belly and along her ribs.

Weaknesses known only to her family and a certain perpetually perky paca. Until now.

Her torture wouldn’t see an end until Pinkie herself succumbed to mirth and fell back upon the floor, kicking her hooves in the air moments later. At last, she could slump against her cushion and suck in deep, desperate gulps of sweet oxygen.

“You,” Twilight managed to wheeze, “are evil.”

Pinkie stopped giggling just long enough to blow a raspberry. “Evil is subjective. Sometimes.” She bounced up to her hooves and skipped over to flop across Twilight’s belly. “And this kind of evil is fun!”

That much, Twilight couldn’t deny. Even pinned beneath her new friend as she was.

She smiled at the thought and let her head fall against the cushion. “I have another friend like you,” she murmured. “Excitable, boundless energy, and eager to laugh and play.”

Pinkie let out a gasp, rolling over so she could press her snout against Twilight’s and look her in the eye. “Does she love parties too?” came her demand.

“They’re called fiestas in her language, but yes. Though I’m not sure how they might differ.”

“Parties are parties! As long as they’re fun, it doesn’t matter!” Pinkie hummed in thought. “Wait. Is she a pony? Did you have pony friends before?”

The smile ran away from Twilight’s face, her heart sank into the pit of her stomach. Raspberry Quartz’s face, twisted in fear and angst floated to view. A contrast to that shy little smile, how she would laugh when they were younger.

Before the invasion, before she’d been taken.

Before Twilight appeared in her true form.

“She’s not a pony,” Twilight replied at last. “She’s an alpaca, the prime minister of the Paca Plains Herd, actually. As for having pony friends …” She turned and looked toward the open door, as if she might hope to catch a glimpse of Raspberry tip-hoofing by or peeking in to see how she might interact with another pony.

She did not.

Sighing, Twilight closed her eyes. “Besides the princesses and Shining, I had one. I don’t know if I still have her or not.”

The changeling princess could almost feel Pinkie Pie deflate atop her. “Do you want to have her still?” she asked in a voice bereft of its usual levity.

A sad smile spread across her features. “Based on what Celestia’s told me, that’s out of my control,” Twilight whispered. “If she would have me still, knowing what I am and that I …” It clicked. Ah. So that’s what Rainbow Dash meant. “Knowing that I’ve effectively lied to her about what I am since we were fillies, I can only wonder how she might feel.”

Pinkie booped her gently. “I may not know what’s happened between the two of you, but if she was really your friend, I think you have more of a chance than you think.”

Twilight let out a single laugh. “I hope so. I really do.” She opened her eyes so she could meet her new friend’s gaze, a thought slowly taking root.

They’d both shared stories near and dear to one another. Together, it was like a meeting of the hearts, trust between pony and changeling.

Sharing names, exchanging tales of families, in what culture didn’t that mean there was a bond between them?

The Princess of the Seekers felt her smile return. “I think there is something I would like to share with you. A bit of, well …” She rolled a hoof in a circle as if to snatch the word from thin air. “I’ve made mention of a few things. I’d like to kind of share them, fully. If you don’t mind meeting a couple ponies.”

Pinkie Pie sat bolt up right and grinned. “I love meeting new ponies!” She bounced off the cushion and landed nimbly on her hooves. “Ponies important to you?”

“More than even the oldest text.” Seeing how the mare tilted her head, Twilight coughed. “That means yes. Very important, in my culture.”

A glint shone in those sky blue eyes. “Then, I think,” Pinkie said, her voice tinged with excitement, “I might have an amazing idea.”

Twilight found an addition to her list of ponies who could make changelings shudder by look and tone alone. Pinkie Pie had just slotted herself beneath three alicorns and a smirking shield mage.

Pride. Dedication to a craft. Culture. Everything that made a changeling a changeling.

Each of those things, everything she’d had drilled into her head over the course of twenty years, worked in combination to keep Twilight’s brow from twitching. They could not, however, prevent her from giving voice to her thoughts. “When you said you had an amazing idea,” she murmured to Pinkie out of the side of her mouth, “this wasn’t quite what I had in mind.”

The love-damned mare had the audacity to beam. “I know, right?” she chirped as she bounced in place between a stoic Applejack and uneasy Rainbow Dash, a hoof wrapped tight around either mare. “It’ll be great! We were just talking about it last night too! You talked alllllll about how you knew Princess Celestia and Princess Luna and Princess Cadence and Shining Armor, and—”

Mercifully, Applejack covered the mare’s mouth before she could get a full head of steam. Her ear twitched. “Ain’t gonna say she’s wrong, Princess,” she said rather tersely. The farm mare let out a sigh and added, “’n when she mentioned it a bit ago, well … ain’t gonna deny I’m more ’n a mite curious to see what sorta ponies might hold value to a changeling. Other than the ones ya mentioned last night.”

“Ah.” Twilight inclined her head. Well, at least they hadn’t been dragged along for the ride. Not entirely. “I hope this isn’t taking up time intended for other plans,” she said.

The farm mare shrugged. “Nothin’ much, to be honest. Princess Celestia stopped by to talk with Rarity ‘bout … a couple things,” she replied diplomatically. “Sunset’s gone off somewhere on her own to read.”

“And Fluttershy stayed with Rarity,” Rainbow added, her brows furrowing. “For support.”

Twilight winced. The barb was, well, less a barb, more akin to the pegasus jabbing the pommel of a sword straight into her muzzle and shattering her fangs. No amount of chitin could dull that pain, nor did healing with stored love dull it during the process.

Tit for tat, as it were. Just as Twilight had made it at the gala.

And neither Applejack nor Pinkie approved, if the stern looks Rainbow quailed beneath were any indication.

“Dash,” Applejack ground through gritted teeth.

“Please,” Twilight cut her off, raising a hoof to forestall her. “I don’t take offense. I understand. I’ve had some time to consider things, and time to have my own discussion with Celestia about a—aha—couple things, as you say.”

Rainbow Dash flicked her tail. “Yeah? And how’d ‘considering’ make you see what you pulled last night?”

“As beneficial to my goal, I’m sure, as your friend likely found speaking of my kin and I in such a manner as I entered the gala.” At her grimace, Twilight smiled thinly. “I’ll not pretend that I am without fault, but I’ll also not pretend that I felt the same call all fey races do when a slight is visited upon them by another without reason. That much, I should hope, we might agree upon.”

The little grunt the mare gave was a small victory in and of itself. Still, not what she needed.

Twilight set her hoof upon the cobblestone path and sighed. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry I let my temper get the better of me,” she offered. “And that I didn’t take your feelings into account, Rainbow Dash. All of you, really.”

Rainbow huffed. “Thought you were all about this whole ‘what’s real, what’s a lie’ thing you were on about last night. Or does that change too?”

A retort leapt to the forefront of her mind, but Twilight caught it. “My temper isn’t quite that easy to set off.” She smiled and trotted by the mare, pausing just as she brushed against her shoulder. “And no, it doesn’t. Changeling logic, fey reason is quite different from yours. To us, it is the action and the intent behind it that holds the most value. For you, the words, the surface, everything fits into that bond of trust, no?”

“Yeah. It does.” The proud Everfree Ranger blew a frustrated breath through her nose, and then looked away, abashed. Softly, she repeated, “It does, but it doesn’t mean help can’t come from strange places. Like Zecora would say.”

Her chitinous ears twitching, Twilight tilted her head. “That … is not a pony name?”

“A zebra.” Applejack laid a hoof on Twilight’s shoulder, adding, “One who taught us the same lesson you wanted, I suspect.”

“Possibly.” A zebra? In Ponyville? Twilight had to think quickly. If this Zecora was one of the shamans, she might know how to make a certain mixture that would reveal changelings. “I might like to meet this mare someday. If you’ll permit a changeling visitor in your home.”

“I’d rather welcome friend,” Pinkie corrected. “And yes. If you want to visit—oh! I can ask the Cakes! Changelings like sweet things, right?”

“Like?” Twilight ran the full length of her tongue along both sides of her muzzle. “You’ll find only Celestia herself can match a changeling’s appetite for sweet things.” She cast a grin at applejack and Rainbow. “Something I hear our kin have in common.”

Pinkie’s glee, she expected. Something that just seemed right between them.

She did not, however, think Applejack would snort and shake her head. “Land sakes, why do I feel like you could give this one a run for her money,” she mused, flicking an ear toward Pinkie. Turning, she nodded toward a nearby coach, where Silín Labrais and her Black Helmets awaited. “So, we goin’ there by coach, I take it?”

Twilight thought a moment, that discussion with Celestia still fresh in her mind. “No.”

“No?”

“No?” Silín parroted, her hawkish eyes narrowing. “Princess—”

“I would like to show who we are, Silín. I appreciate and understand the risk, but seeing me through the window of a coach or hearing gossip from galas and dignitary meetings will hardly serve our purposes.” She drew closer to her faithful guard and friend, murmuring, “We are changelings, Silín, even out of disguise. Let us at least act as such and let there be some subtlety to our methods.”

The changeling guard snorted. “I see. Clever, Princess.” She eyes Twilight flatly, still. “In the future, though, I would appreciate it if you would consider informing me. So that I might actually plan and protect you properly.”

“Of course. How about, for now, we just assume that I’m going to travel by hoof, then? And you all nearby in disguise?”

“Trying to take this all upon yourself, are you?”

Twilight aimed a sheepish grin her way. “Am I so transparent?”

Silín smiled. “I’ve known you since we hatched, and I spent my first assignment escorting you.” She turned and hissed a quick order to the others, in four simultaneous flashes of green changeling fire, they donned the guises of Princess Celestia’s guard.

Behind her, Twilight heard Rainbow give a discontented groan. “See? I just can’t get used to that.”

“Eh, it helps if you think of it like a party cannon going off.”

Twilight turned to gawk at Pinkie. Thankfully, she wasn’t alone. “A—”

“—party what?” Silín finished.

Rainbow Dash gave a tired sigh. “A cannon. It shoots party things, and somehow everything is decorated. Don’t ask me how it works,” she added, hastily stuffing a hoof into Pinkie’s mouth when she tried to supply an answer. “I don’t know. I’ll never know, I don’t want to know.”

Twilight took that as hint not to press further. She shared a weak smile with Silín, then said, “Well, with that in mind, why don’t we head out? Their home isn’t terribly far, but it is a bit of a hike.”

Together with wary mares and disguised guards in tow, Twilight walked side by side with an excitable, skipping Pinkie Pie down the path and into the city proper. She kept her ears perked, listening to her new friend’s aimless chatter—and it truly was aimless, given how quickly it bounced from one topic to the next within the same clause, let alone the same sentence.

And all the while, she allowed her slitted eyes to take in the sights of ponies all throughout the city, lining the paths and roads, even as they gave her a berth like a shark through a reef.

An image, she realized, wasn’t entirely inaccurate in their minds. Not to mention, when it came to changelings, there was never just one.

Never.

Fortunately, Twilight found her resolve reinvigorated following Celestia’s advice. To those who would meet her gaze, she offered a small smile, careful not to show too much of her teeth lest she seem to be baring them. A few returned it with shaky nods and stiff bows, respectful of a visiting dignitary. Others …

Well, Twilight couldn’t pretend it didn’t sadden her to see them quickly step between she and their loved ones, the unspoken message quite clear.

She made sure to quicken her pace, leaving her pony companions to hurry after in a brisk trot thanks to her longer legs. Silín and her Black Helmets, she noticed, had no such issue.

They simply acted as Royal Guards patrolling along the paths, conveniently drifting just near enough that they might appear protecting should anypony take that gossip and sentiment against changelings as invitation to take action.

We might hear from Celestia on that, Twilight realized. Although there had never been a stipulation that her guards remain in their natural form, something told her she would still receive a light scolding for allowing them to pretend they were Royal Guards.

Always something she could’ve done better. Some angle she should’ve considered. But if she walked with them in force, might it not just stir up that same sentiment as when they’d first arrived?

Those worries left Twilight the instant her slitted eyes found the familiar mailbox standing out against the others—a yellow moon with clustered stars interwoven with three of pink and white above Shining Armor’s blue shield and pink starburst. She could smell Night Light’s garden in bloom, the iron bite of Twilight Velvet’s ink wafting from her study, and sweet, delicious love. Love she’d happily consumed and savored since she was a nymph.

Home away from home.

Family.

Her second mother and father.

Those ponies fortunate enough to reside in the neighborhood or work in those shops opposite the old bleach marble home were treated to the sight of a grown changeling princess purring like a kitten who’d just been given a ball of yarn. But Twilight couldn’t have cared less if she tried.

She must have moved like her ancestors in the days of the old hunts, for the Princess of the Seekers was gone from Pinkie Pie’s side in one instant and eagerly rapping her chitinous hoof against the door in the next.

No matter what terrible, terrible lies her guards would speak upon their return to Halla Eolais, Twilight Sparkle most certainly did not stare wide-eyed at the door and growl at it as she listened to the steady, thumpity-thump-tump cadence of Night Light’s hooves upon the wooden floor.

Twilight heard him give that short, barking laugh of his as a cobalt glow engulfed the doorhandle and pulled it open to reveal a grinning stallion.

Night Light’s smile faltered when he laid eyes upon her. For a bare moment, Twilight worried, just as she had with Shining and Cadence. Then, he took a deep breath and leaned against the doorframe. “Oh, Celestia! I forgot Shining warned me you weren’t disguised this time,” he groaned. “I almost had a heart attack, Twilight! I thought you’d lost your mind—I’m not sure you haven’t coming here like—ack!”

While Shining Armor had size, muscle, and a natural, stocky build, his father, comparatively, was a stallion who’d stopped growing just below average height and had looked more like a twig since Shining’s fifteenth birthday.

Granted, Twilight didn’t have Shining’s build, but with her size and strength, she could still pick Night Light up and squeeze him for all he was worth whenever she so pleased.

And so she did. The Princess of the Seekers pressed her cheek against his, that happy purr rolling within her chest once more.

Night Light gasped and patted her shoulder. “Twilight!” he wheezed. “I’m happy to—oof!—see you too! But I still need to breathe!”

“Breathing is overrated,” Twilight murmured. She sniffled and buried her muzzle in the crook of his neck. “And you weren’t there at the gala.”

“You know I don’t do parties well!” Her surrogate father squirmed, unable to free himself. “Vel!” he called. “Save me! Sparkbug is trying to kill me with hugs again!”

“And you expect me to save you? I feel like that’s contrary to my interests,” Twilight Velvet deadpanned from near the top of the stairs. Twilight could hear the smile in her voice as she descended slowly, no doubt expecting to be swept up herself.

Smaller still than her husband, Twilight Velvet was a lovely little mare of gray coat and straight purple and white mane, matching the stars upon her flanks. She took one look at Twilight and Night Light, and snorted. Her eyes glinted. “If I let you squeeze him extra, does that mean I’m off the hook?”

“Hey!”

“Honey, hush, the mares are talking.”

Twilight set Night Light down gently so he could get his hooves under him, then approached her namesake slowly. Memories of both flashed through her mind, vivid as the days they’d shared together.

Though none so vivid as the way she remembered Twilight Velvet and Sireadh Firinn watching, awaiting her as she learned to fly from once precipice to the next. That feeling of triumph when she, that sickly little late bloomer of a nymph, finally flew into their waiting hooves.

And the smiles upon their faces.

Twilight Velvet was quite a bit more than just a namesake or surrogate, though. She was, after all, Twilight’s namegiver.

A sacred right.

She wrapped the little mare in a tight embrace, careful not to hurt her. “Hi, mom,” Twilight whispered.

Despite her size, Twilight Velvet could hug just as tight as her son. “Welcome home, Sparkbug.”

The general sentiment of most ponies watching could be summed up in one, flat utterance, courtesy of the proud Everfree Ranger, Rainbow Dash:

“What?”

It took a little coaxing and prodding, especially to jolt Rainbow Dash from her momentary stupor, but eventually, they managed to corral the three stunned bearers off Night Light and Twilight Velvet’s porch and into their sitting room. The promise of an Eerie Island coffee went a long way to convince Applejack to take a seat and listen for a spell.

Though Night Light did frown at the four guards who trooped straight into his home, seemingly uninvited. “Er.” He arched a brow. “Gentlestallions, unless you’re escorting her highness or carrying some sort of search notice, my son is not going to be pleased.”

In her guise as a burly unicorn, Silín chuckled sheepishly and dropped her disguise in a flash of green fire.

“Ah.” To his credit, Night Light didn’t even raise a brow. “Silín? My, how you’ve grown!”

“Sorry, Mr. Light. Didn’t want to reveal ourselves like this outside in case we scared somepony.” Her slitted eyes flitted toward Rainbow Dash, then she added, “Or gave the wrong impression.”

Rainbow growled. “You got something to say? Then say it.”

“I say exactly what I mean,” Silín replied evenly. “Your sentiment is neither unjust, nor is it unique to your fellow ponies. You and I, in fact, are both protectors. I praise your dedication, even though it runs contrary to our intent, and that of our queen.”

The pegasus looked as though she might offer some retort, but hesitated, glancing at Twilight. Her ears splaying, she slumped in her seat and folded her hooves across her chest. “So,” she huffed, “mind explaining why the hay you’re calling a pony ‘mom’? Or is there some truth to those—”

“No.” Twilight set her jaw. “There is absolutely no truth to the rumor that changelings take and convert ponies, and yes I am aware of the novelization and fanaticization of those old stories. I am pure changeling, and every offspring sired or borne by a changeling will be so unless very specific potions are taken or spells performed to alter dominant genes.”

“Okay, got it.” Rainbow held up her hooves in surrender, quailing beneath the changelings’ gazes. “Didn’t realize that’d touch such a nerve.”

“About as much as reminders about old Pegasopolis spouse stealing might touch yours, I’m sure,” one guard drawled.

Silín was quick to bite and twist his ear, but not so much that she prevented a bout of uncomfortable squirming from Rainbow.

“Point taken,” Applejack cut in before their sparing could progress. She accepted a mug of Eerie Island coffee from Night Light with a smile and tip of her hat. “If ya don’t mind, though, I’m a mite curious myself. I kinda figured there’d be somethin’ with how cozy ya were with Captain Armor and Princess Cadence, Princess, but not quite that.”

Twilight bit her lip. Among her kin, the tale was hardly a secret. Anything but, really.

She looked up at Twilight Velvet and Night Light in askance. It was, after all, their story.

Even if it was her life.

Night Light pressed his lips together in a thin smile and continued to pass out drinks. “I find myself in an odd position of wanting to say it wasn’t a big deal, but knowing I’ll offend every Seeker living for it.” He held up a hoof to forestall any objections. “Our relationship with Twilight and her hive came through Princess Celestia and Princess Luna—at the time, I was still employed at the castle as a magical researcher, Vel was the lead researcher in magical malady remedies and had a budding career as an author going.”

“The former led more to the opportunity than the latter.” Twilight Velvet’s cheeks flushed. “In any case, we were called before the princesses one day and given the opportunity to travel and study at a place most thought a myth—Halla Eolais.”

“Er, what now?” Rainbow tilted her head.

“It has a few different names, depending on the culture,” the mare continued, “most prevalent among them is The Secret Library of They Who Seek. Thus, the name of the hive.” She held out a hoof.

Pinkie gasped. “Golly! That’s what Sunny called it too!” She bounced in place and beamed at Twilight. “And she said you were one of They Who Seek! She went scampering off to that dusty old library in the castle almost as soon as we all woke up!”

The changeling princess hummed and made sure to take note. Whatever Sunset Shimmer knew of her kin, Twilight could only imagine what interest a mare holding such a grudge might have for them.

Academic? Possibly.

For now, at least, it could wait.

“Halla Eolais itself is the greatest and most extensive library in the world,” Twilight Velvet said, with a nod of praise toward the Seekers present. “So, naturally, you can guess how eager two researchers might be upon learning their invitations had been secured on their princesses recommendation. We couldn’t say yes fast enough.”

“There was, however, a catch.” Night Light sat down on the couch across from Twilight, shifting so his wife could join him. “Princess Celestia called us into her study that night, where she and Princess Luna awaited. They dismissed their guards and threw up more privacy wards than I ever knew to exist, and explained to us the details of our hosts—changelings.”

Twilight Velvet raised a hoof. “Old friends of theirs,” she added, “who had agreed to allow us into their domain and offered assurance that we would be welcome as their guests, so long as we respected their laws and didn’t attempt to force entry into any areas we’d not been expressly granted access.”

Snorting, Night Light rolled his eyes. “As if that would’ve mattered. Navigating Halla Eolais requires a Seeker present at all times.”

“Why’s that?” Applejack frowned. “Ain’t the respect and permission thing enough?”

“Halla Eolais isn’t just a library,” Twilight spoke up. “It’s a library, a fortress, and a labyrinth, all in one.”

“Winding caves, dug out over the course of thousands of years.” Night Light furrowed his brows. “I recall battle scars etched into some of the walls near the entryway, but none much deeper.”

“Wait, wait, wait.” Rainbow held up her hooves. “Battle scars? Labyrinths? Sunset made it sound like this place was supposed to be a lost library, not something out of my ancient history class. What next? You had monsters you all have to fight?”

Silín Labrais smiled. “Have you ever seen a tatzelwurm? Or heard of one, even?” At Rainbow’s nod, she gestured toward Twilight. “Behold, the slayer of tatzelwurms. A beast who would happily invade our caves and devour us all, but cannot face the might of a royal changeling.”

Twilight gave a discontented rumble. She could feel their eyes, even as she averted her gaze downward. “Halla Eolais is a labyrinth,” she murmured, “to protect both our treasure and ourselves. Neither invaders nor guests are able to fully grasp its depth or the vast network of our caves, so our home can very well become the tomb of any monster, thief, or warring army who comes to call.” Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Pinkie’s smile had faltered.

Talk of war and death, perhaps?

To that end, she turned and smiled, adding, “But it makes for a wonderful place to celebrate. And the best games of hide and seek any can find.”

Pinkie Pie’s eyes lit up. “You are so on!”

Five sets of changeling eyes flashed green, each Seeker smirking. A challenge had been lain and accepted.

“In any case,” Night Light said with a cough. “Yes, Halla Eolais is a labyrinth, and that was part of the reason I find it silly in hindsight. But at the time, we had been afforded their trust, and we did our best to act as good guests in their home. Along the way, yes, we found friendship with Queen Sireadh Firinn and King Eolas ag Iarraidh.”

Rainbow raised a brow. “Gezundheit.”

Chuckling, he shrugged. “I just called him Eolas for the longest time.”

“Linguistics were always my forum.” Twilight Velvet smiled. “We remained in Halla Eolais for … I believe four years? Honey?”

“Three in total, not concurrent,” he corrected. “We returned home when Shining was born, then came back once we thought him old enough to understand not to tell everypony about our friends. Around that time …” Night Light trailed off, smiling at Twilight. “Well, we were lucky enough to see Twilight’s egg after she was laid.”

Applejack furrowed her brows. “That like bein’ invited to a foal’s birth?”

“Something like that.”

“Ah.” She relaxed. “So y’all are that close?”

“Well, yes. We were.” His smile fell. “Then, when she hatched, Twilight was …” Night Light’s eyes met Twilight’s, she could see the pain behind them. “Sick. She was small, and sick, and dying.”

The mares gasped, even Rainbow shot Twilight a look as though she thought she might vanish.

The changeling princess offered a wan smile. “I got better,” she said, glancing at Twilight Velvet. “Thanks to her.”

Her second mother squirmed. “Twilight,” she muttered, one part whining, one part scolding.

“You did.”

A heavy silence hung over their heads, like a blanket smothering the very breath from their lungs.

It was Rainbow Dash, oddly enough, who found the words to break it, “Er, I’m gonna guess that’s just as important to repay as, er, slights?”

All five Seekers nodded once, resolute.

Comprehension dawned upon her. “So why weren’t you—”

“Tatzelwurm,” Twilight whispered, her eyes found the floor once more. “Or I would’ve been here for them.”

I would’ve known the instant she tried to replace Cadence.

A shimmering purple glow guided her chin upward until she met Twilight Velvet’s eyes. “We understand. Halla Eolais must be defended.”

Of course they did.

That didn’t change it, though.

Still, Twilight Velvet continued, “Yes. I did perform the spell that saved Twilight’s life, but I had help. Thank the stars for that.” She took Night Light’s hoof and squeezed it tight. “While Sireadh and Eolas tried every changeling remedy to save their nymph, we gave them space.”

“But not without purpose,” the stallion added. “Three days and nights to craft a spell with her symptoms as reference, girls. By the time we came to her nursery, Sireadh and Eolas were …” He swallowed. “As any parents would be. As we felt, seeing it unfold. So, when we informed them of our efforts and offered to guide them through the spell—”

”—Sireadh looked to me,” Twilight Velvet said. “She told me Princess Celestia’s endorsement meant more than gold. Since her efforts and those of her best physicians had failed, she asked that I try in her stead.” Licking her lips, she sagged in her place. Exhausted.

The memories must have taxed her so, even twenty years later.

“But you did it,” Pinkie marveled. “You did it and she’s here, so what do you mean you were close?” She flailed and pointed at Twilight. “She’s still all happy and friendly with all of you!”

Smiling, Night Light hugged his wife tight. “I never said we weren’t close at all,” he corrected. “But after that night, after everyone had just collapsed and gone to bed relieved, we were summoned to her nursery again, with Shining this time. But not by guard—by Eolas.”

“For a big thank you party?”

He laughed. “No. But, in a way, something better.”

“Better than a party?” Pinkie gave a look which all but screamed impossible.

Twilight turned to face them, and drew in a deep breath. “My name,” she said, “is not a changeling name. Not by any means—Silín Labrais, Eolas ag Iarraidh, Sireadh Firinn. Those are changeling names. Twilight Sparkle is a pony name.”

Rainbow blinked. “I … don’t get it?”

The changeling princess smiled. “Why would a changeling princess have a pony name?” she asked, turning slowly to gaze at Twilight Velvet. “And why would she share part of it with the mare who saved her life?”

It took only a half second.

“Oh.” Rainbow Dash sank into her cushion. “Oh.”

Twilight Velvet rubbed at her leg, that old nervous tell of hers. “Naming rights belong to the family alone,” she muttered. “Sireadh wouldn’t budge, neither would Eolas. They insisted she be given a pony name, that she would share one with me and that I should choose the second.”

Silence, once again, reigned supreme as she drew in a breath. Her audience as captivated as those who so adored her stories.

And this, a story given true life each time Twilight Sparkle drew breath.

“I chose Sparkle because of her eyes,” the mare said at last. “Shining had wandered over to the little pod she laid in, he was always so curious. And when she opened her eyes for the first time, he started babbling about stars sparkling. So …” She ducked her head. “Twilight Sparkle. I was granted a right reserved only for family, and, well …”

It didn’t need saying.

Though Applejack did whisper, “Y’all ain’t like family, y’all are her family.” She threw herself back against her cushion and covered her eyes with her hat. “Consarnit, Rarity.”

Author's Notes:

Behold! I have done things, despite finals trying to murder me. I've also done more things that of varying lewdness/silliness/not pony-ness, so, hoping to post some of that eventually. Since, y'know, I love my backlog and all.

In any case, hope you enjoyed this one. If you like my work and feel magnanimous, please consider contributing to my Patreon.