It is a gloomy morning when the Equestrians arrive and Miss Sparkle banishes the rain spirits. It is also then that I decide she will be my bride. Our teacher lets the entire schoolhouse out early so everyone can gallop to hear Miss Sparkle’s speech. “Wait for me!” my little sister, Tresna, shouts, buried in the sea of students. “Kesu, please!” Faking a lion’s growl, I dive back into the mob and pull her onto my back. “Do not whine,” I say as she buries her face into my cap. I sprint forward, joining the pack. “And hold on. We will not be late!” The dirt roads are still muddy and the air is still humid, but that does not stop every member of our village from making their way to the marketplace, where Miss Sparkle is stood atop a massive platform, smiling down at us with teeth so white I swear they are clouds. My schoolmates do not listen, instead playing in the puddles, but I drag Tresna through the crowd until we find a large box to climb onto. From there, we sit and listen to Miss Sparkle as she explains that our village is entering a new era. “Ponies of Piandel!” she cries, sparking a jubilant roar. “Today is a day that will be written about for centuries to come! After many months of discussion, your leaders and I have finally come to an agreement—starting today, with the signing of the Canterlot-Piandel Annexation Act, your island is now an official Equestrian territory!” The crowd roars even louder. My throat burns from screaming, trying to raise my voice above everypony else, so Miss Sparkle might notice me. Tresna looks up at me. “What is a annixshun?” With a smile, I say, “I do not know!” “Annexation,” corrects Pinter, an older classmate of mine standing nearby. He squeezes his pudgy gut through the crowd to reach us. “It means we are all going to become Equestrians, just like the Princess.” The thought strikes me like a falling star. I have always heard about Equestria in books, from travelers passing through—I have heard about the homes made of silver, of the brilliant jewels that run through the earth itself. We already learn their language in school; many of us speak it well. Equestria, where everypony can fly, can cast spells with the greatest of ease. Miss Sparkle is only proof of that. Just looking upon her is to fall into a lightning cloud—her sharp horn and long wings radiate power. She must be a child of the goddess, walking with us mortals merely out of pity, out of mercy, out of love. Miss Sparkle loves me, and I love her. “Kesu, you are turning red!” Tresna says, dragging my mind back to reality. “Are you going to explode?” By now, Miss Sparkle’s speech has ended, and she is leaving the platform, followed by two golden-clad soldiers. I pick Tresna up and haul her off our Around us, the children cheer, along with many adults—but most are just milling about, murmuring in hushed tones, shooting quick glances at Miss Sparkle, and at the dozens of identical soldiers that line the streets. I can see their wings, but their horns must be hidden under their helmets. They look so strange, standing in a row like they are, all perfectly white but for the mud on their hooves. Compared to our loud, colorful village, they seem like statues, carved out of the finest stone. They stay silent, staring forward, completely still—even when Kelon Tong, the elderly fruit grocer, spits in each of their faces. “I never serve!” he shrieks in broken Equestrian. “You leave!” A number of our stallions soon step up to drag Kelon away, but I wish the rain spirits would return and wash him into the sea. How could he say such awful things to the Equestrians? Especially in the presence of Miss Sparkle, the most wonderful of them all? He is a disgrace to Piandel, and does not deserve Miss Sparkle’s love. The next day, Tresna and I walk into the schoolhouse to find Miss Sparkle standing at the front of the classroom, a dozen colts and fillies clinging to her legs and wings. Her open-mouthed laugh is music, and I cannot stop myself from leaping onto the pile, clawing my way forward until I can run my hoof along even an inch of her coat. When our teacher finally herds us back, Miss Sparkle smiles that divine smile and starts speaking in the most perfectly mangled Piandese I have ever heard. She thanks us for our bathrooms, and asks if our parents have flown palm trees. It is only when our teacher steps in and tells her that she can speak Equestrian that her wings stop twitching and her face unscrunches. “Yes, this is much better,” she says. “Hello, everyone! My name is Princess Twilight Sparkle, and I’m visiting you all today to tell you about some of the things that are going on with your island.” I have never felt as much pride for my village as I do in that moment. Miss Sparkle, the most powerful pony in the world, wants something to do with us? It is unthinkable. Lighting her horn, she says, “I know that politics can get a bit boring, so I’ll try to keep things short.” With her magic, she creates a map of the world, which earns a gasp from the entire class. She pauses for a moment, staring at us—then shakes her head and gestures to the map. “As you can see here, Equestria and Piandel are remarkably close together; by boat, it’s only a single day’s journey. Our two civilizations have been trading goods for years, so finally, we just decided it would be in everypony’s best interest if Piandel became Equestrian land! That way we don’t have to trade—your goods are our goods, and vice versa.” We all nod. Makes sense. She creates another picture, this time of a familiar red fruit. “In addition, as you might know, the daya fruit—which only grows natively on your island—is extremely popular in Equestria as a magic enhancer for unicorns. Citizens in the capital can’t get enough of it! So we’ve also come to help speed up harvesting of the fruit.” Her pictures vanish into smoke, and her horn goes dark. “Any questions?” Our class sits silent, staring, waiting for her horn to light up again. “I’ll take that as a no,” Miss Sparkle says with a giggle. She grins and looks to our teacher. “And since these kids were all such good listeners... why don’t we take an early recess?” If our teacher says something, nopony hears it over the unified cheer of the classroom. We all gallop outside, with Miss Sparkle following close behind. The rest of the day passes in a blur. Miss Sparkle, the goddess walking among us, knows how to play tag, and soccer, and all the other games we play. She tells us stories, and lets us climb onto her back so we might fly with the birds as she does. “[i]Putri Jaran[/i]!” we cry, screaming loud enough for the stars to hear. “Princess of Ponies!” The day is nearly spent when I get my turn to fly with Miss Sparkle. I grip her neck tight, the distance to the ground heavy on my gut. The wind blows the hat from my head, but Miss Sparkle grabs it with her magic. “Don’t be afraid,” she says, placing it back on me. “Just relax.” [i]If I can fly[/i], I figure, [i]then I can say what I need to say.[/i] “Miss Sparkle,” I start before I can think twice, “you are very pretty.” “Oh?” Miss Sparkle laughs. “Why, thank you! I really love your hat.” Suddenly, I’ve never felt so warm. We must be flying close to the sun. [hr] Every week, more and more soldiers arrive in town. They march in single-file lines down the roads, making everyone clear a path for them. They hold their spears up high, glinting like lit torches in the harsh sunlight. By now, the new daya fruit harvests have begun. The Equestrian soldiers follow the workers out into the fields, and stay on patrol the entire day. Every day, bushel after bushel is brought back into town, some for us, and some for the Equestrians. We’ve never had so much fruit in the market! The Equestrians must have the favor of the tree spirits—how else could the workers pick so much fruit so fast? When they’re not in the fields, the soldiers hang out around their new base in the center of town. But they don’t just sit around being lazy! They help out around the island, catching criminals and enforcing the new laws. Being an Equestrian is a lot of hard work! There are all these new rules, like how you need permission from the soldiers to sell fruit now, or how my parents need to pay some money each week to help build things over in Equestria. And even though they’re not laws, the Equestrians keep telling us to do strange things like salute the soldiers whenever we see them—which is about fifty times a day—and not talk during the sunrise and sunset. One day, Miss Twilight comes and tells everyone that they need to stay up all night to watch the other Princess, Celestia, raise the sun. That gets everyone confused; who is Celestia, and what is she doing with the sun? Only the goddess can move the sun, we know that. Still, we all stay up—or try to. The sun has barely set when Tresna falls asleep, and in the town square, at least a dozen workers collapse after picking fruit all day. That makes some of the soldiers mad, so they kick the sleeping workers, which starts a fight, and now the workers are all in jail. They shouldn’t have fallen asleep when Miss Twilight said not to. The next day, even though we all want to skip school and sleep, we trudge to our desks to hear Miss Sparkle speak about tradition. “Oh, what an exciting time for you all! I still remember my first Summer Sun Festival,” she says, staring off into space. “Being an Equestrian means sharing in traditional Equestrian customs. These are all meaningful ceremonies and rituals, with centuries of history behind them! Just another wonderful thing about this great country of ours.” “We have many traditions of our own!” our teacher says. “Right, students?” “Yes, sir,” says Pinta. “Like the Nature Praise, where we give thanks for all the spirits have given us over the year.” “I... suppose,” Miss Twilight says, frowning. “But ours are a bit different. Our traditions have very special meaning, and are practiced by pretty much everyone.” Our teacher nods. “Like the Nature Praise.” Miss Twilight’s frown doesn’t fade. “Sure.” “Idiocy,” says Father at dinner that night, chewing his fruit with the ferocity of a barracuda. “Stupid, stupid. We are Piandese, not Equestrian! We do not need their silly games!” Mother nods. “We are not Equestrians,” Father repeats. “They only say we are so they can take our hard work. “We are,” I say, trying not to scowl. Scowling at one’s parents is awful, forbidden by the goddess. “Miss Sparkle says so.” “And what does she know?” Father asks. “Who is she, with her fat wings and the hard dick on her head?” Now I cannot hide my scowl. How could he say such a thing? Does he not see Miss Sparkle’s care for us? “You are named Kesu because you are blessed by the spirits of innocence,” Mother said gently, touching my hoof. She reaches over to run a hooftip through Tresna’s pink locks. “And Tresna, the spirits of love. You are Piandese. What is a ‘Twilight?’ Or a ‘Celestia?’ Nothing.” But if Celestia is nothing, then why did the Equestrians place a massive fountain, adorned with a statue in her image, in the middle of the market where everyone can see it? She looks even more powerful than Miss Twilight—but not half as beautiful. I know Miss Sparkle is right. She must simply teach us. [hr] Two months after the soldiers first arrived, the fruit pickers and farm workers stage a protest. “We are working harder than ever!” their leader, Enom, cries, stirring the crowd up, “And yet, we are paid less than ever! The Equestrians do not care for our labor—they merely wish to use us!” The rally begins at noon, and within an hour has grown four times as large. Ponies from all over town leave work to join in, scrounging up makeshift signs and chanting in unison. Even my parents, as diligent about work as they usually are, make their way to the market to show their support. Things are going well—until the crowd draws too near the soldiers’ barracks. Like a beehive poked too often, a swarm of soldiers, all holding their spears high, spill out of the cabins and into the street to meet the protesters. At the sight of that polished steel, most of the crowd makes a hasty retreat, scrambling over one another to escape. But a few stay—the younger workers, the ones who have more to fight for, more to lose—puffing up their chests and daring the soldiers to do something. Enom stands at the front, cursing in Piandese so hard his tongue lashes like a whip. With the workers letting out a scream of surprise, a single soldier leaps forward and snatches Enom away from his friends. He screams and kicks, but five more soldiers soon pile on top of him and drag him away towards the jail. The others try to chase after, but are beaten back by the blunt end of the soldiers’ spears, until they have to make a retreat or face true violence. Most criminals are held in jail for a few days, a week at most. But it has been a month and no one has seen Enom. Some say he has been murdered, his throat slit by a soldier’s spear. Others say he became one of them, brainwashed, his blue coat dyed white and wings grafted onto his sides. I am sure he will be back soon enough. Perhaps he left town out of shame? No one likes a troublemaker, after all. A few nights later, someone cuts the head off the Celestia statue. We awake to find it laying in the fountain, its snout cracked in two. Miss Twilight arrives soon after, and she is not smiling. She takes her place on the wooden platform, the same spot she stood when she announced eternal happiness for our island, and shouts that we are disgraceful. “This is just—barbaric!” Miss Twilight says, shaking her head. “The people of Equestria took you all in because we see the beauty in your culture. This is not beauty, this is vandalism! Please, do not ruin this friendship!” Father and Mother begin hosting meetings in our home, allowing farmers and merchants and fruit pickers alike to gather and talk about current events, away from the scrying eyes of the Equestrian soldiers. On any given night, there are twenty ponies in our living room, shouting and making plans for more protests. They never go any better than the first. More people disappear. Miss Twilight visits less often, and when she does, she seems less happy to see us, less willing to play. She merely stands at the front of the classroom and says that Equestria is a wonderful country. We merely need to accept the facts. My classmates have taken to calling her a devil. I stay silent, and keep my head down. [hr] It is a burning summer day when a dozen soldiers descend upon the marketplace, shoving their way through the crowds until they find Kelon Tong, the elderly fruit grocer. Immediately, everyone knows what is about to happen: Kelon has been selling daya fruit without a license. Everything in the market—everything on the island—stops. “Not touch this!” Kelon shouts through bare gums as the soldiers approach. “[i]Lunga![/i] Go away!” “C’mon, old colt,” a soldier says. He grabs one end of Kelon’s cart. “Don’t make this harder than it’s gotta be.” The soldier pulls the cart, and drags Kelon along with it. Kelon, old and decrepit as he is, is strong from years of hauling fruit—he pulls back. The soldier is snorting now. He pulls again, harder. Kelon pulls back, harder. The soldier now calls over a friend to help. The two pull together, finally hard enough to snatch it from Kelon’s grasp—and hard enough to make the cart crash into them, throwing them into the mud. “Hey!” a soldier shouts, and another tackles Kelon to the ground. Everyone watches in silent horror as the soldiers pound their hooves into Kelon’s side, his face, his stomach, over and over until he’s just twitching on the ground. One of the muddy troops picks Kelon’s body up and lets it rest across his back. The soldiers walk off, away from the crime scene, and away from the unblinking stares of their fellow Equestrians. We do not know where he has gone. I want to ask Miss Twilight, but she has not visited in weeks. [hr] It is October before Miss Twilight visits again. She stands at the front of our classroom, smiling like nothing has happened in the past six months. “Sorry it’s been so long, friends!” Miss Twilight says. She paces in front of our desks. “I’ve just been so busy, you know? Politics are boring and complicated, but things are going well. Don’t you think so?” She extends a wing to touch the shoulder of Wedi, a tiny filly at the front of the class, but Wedi flinches away. Miss Twilight steps back, smile dying into a concerned frown. We all want to tell her that Wedi is scared—that she’s been scared for months, ever since her older brother Enom went missing. “Anyway,” Twilight said, laughing dryly as she walks back to the front of the classroom, “unfortunately, I can’t stay for too long. I have a meeting scheduled with the island council about repairing Princess Celestia’s statue, and—” My hoof shoots up and I can see my teacher’s glare, but I cannot stop myself. The question has been burning in my mind, on my tongue, ever since Miss Twilight walked in, and I barely wait for her to call my name before I blurt, “Princess, where is Kelon?” Miss Twilight blinks. “Who?” “Kelon. He sells fruit.” “Fruit...? Oh!” Miss Twilight nodded. “Yes, yes, Kelon! Kelon Kong.” I nod. “Well, he was arrested, as you know,” Miss Twilight said. She chuckled and shook her head. “I don’t exactly know how things worked here before, but you should all know that you can’t just attack a group of soldiers like he did. That’s why we have laws, a criminal justice system!” She paused, then said, “You all probably don’t know what a criminal justice system is, do you? You see, a crim—” “When is he coming back?” I ask. Miss Twilight blinks a few times. “I don’t know. It’s not up to me.” How can it not be up to her, I scream in my head. She is the [i]Putri Jaran[/i], the Princess of All Ponies! She holds the power of the goddess in her horn! But I just mutter, “Okay.” “You shouldn’t worry,” says Twilight. “Equestrian soldiers are kind folk. He’ll get a fair trial, and if he’s declared innocent, he’ll be back soon.” She laughs again and looks at my classmates. “Take it as a lesson: don’t attack soldiers, and you’ll be fine. Alright?” No one answers.