Perfect Portrait

SMILE agent Sweetie Drops looked over the mission file resting in front of her, next to the pastry and coffee delivered a few minutes ago by the Canterlot Express brunch service. She held it slightly behind the newspaper, so her girlfriend wouldn’t see what she was reading.

It sometimes worked. Now that the truth of her identity was revealed, Lyra sometimes realized when their vacation trips served some greater purpose. Blessedly, she still played along with Bon Bon’s role, never asking questions unless their actual safety was at risk.

It usually wasn’t. SMILE wasn’t in the habit of sending innocent ponies into danger, when their entire role was keeping them safe. But few agents had as much practical experience with the varied creatures of the world, or a personal relationship with changelings. No mare in the agency could work this mission better than Sweetie Drops.

Case 700.151.C

Public Identity: Picture Poise

Unicorn Mare

Portrait artist serving Canterlot upper crust. Residence at 98 Palace Ln.

Notes: Suspected changeling infiltrator, likely installed before the Canterlot Invasion. Was not ejected from the city for unknown reasons, and remained in cover ever since. Has not revealed herself since Thorax’s takeover of changeling rule. Likely Chrysalis loyalist.

Subject is a talented artist specializing in portraits. She earned specific reputation for her idealized, unrealistic style. Seems to know exactly what her clients wish to see—her portraits vary widely in technique and general impression.

Along with the subject’s general profile and a few photographs of the mare, there was a second note, written in SMILE’s specific code. Bon Bon knew it so well she could decode the page, written like a fanzine for a popular science fiction series, without even seeing the underlying gushing about laser blades and horseshoe blasters.

Orders: Subject recently secured a contract with the royal family, beginning with Luna. In preparation for these updates to the royal portraits, over a hundred pieces have been put on display, at a public gathering of Picture’s greatest fans. You and a +1 have been granted an invitation to this party.

Investigate the loyalty and intentions of this changeling. Quietly capture and remove her if you deem her to be a danger to the princess. Princess Luna is aware of your mission; it is imperative that none of the other guests realize a changeling has been hidden in their midst. The trust of Canterlot’s population has already been eroded enough.

“Bonnie, there can’t be anything that interesting in there. Look at me instead. Don’t you like the dress?” Lyra nudged her with a little burst of magic, making Bon Bon finally look up. Her girlfriend was standing up in their private booth now, next to the table. She shifted from hoof to hoof in the fine gown, her motions making the fabric shimmer faintly in the sunlight streaming in through the window.

That’ll be a wedding dress before you know it, Lyra. Bon Bon briefly forgot what she had even been thinking of. “I—yes.” She lowered her voice to a knowing whisper. “In the radio plays, spies have attractive partners. None were ever your equal.”

Lyra blushed, looking away from Bonnie like a shy schoolfilly. The only thing stranger than Lyra’s ease at accepting Bon Bon’s position was how surprised she was anytime ponies complimented her. Couldn’t she tell she was attractive? “Is that why you commissioned a portrait of me? Something you could hang on your office wall and show off?”

She didn’t have the heart to tell her girlfriend that the portrait was only a ploy, and wasn’t likely to get finished. Picture Poise was going to end her night locked into a tiny cell. Queen Chrysalis would be sending no more attacks against Equestria.

The party was everything Sweetie Drops had expected. The finest venue served as the gallery, with several floors of wall space cleared to make way for the portraits. Most had come from private collections, brought willingly by their subjects to show off at the event.

No great surprise, given the bug deliberately crafted portraits that were exactly what the ponies of Canterlot wanted to see. The venue was positively packed, with high society and their families and guests all flocking to see the artist—and just as importantly, to judge who was important enough to have a portrait in the gallery, and who was not.

None of Canterlot’s ordinary ponies were permitted past the fences and security guards—but even fewer knew any event was happening that night. Quiet, classical music, a procession of carriages, polite conversation—none of it made it past the high walls.

SMILE had probably spent a small fortune in tax money to get Bonnie and her +1 the opportunity to have a new portrait created live at the event—the last client Picture Poise would take before Princess Luna herself.

None of the visitors could recognize them through the makeup and fake cutie marks stitched into their clothing, concealing the two of them as a wealthy couple visiting from Los Pegasus. She caught a few dirty mutters about “new money” as they toured the lower gallery, sampling canapes and listening to the distant strings of a live orchestra.

“I don’t recognize the style,” Lyra muttered, as they stopped in front of one fine portrait. This one depicted Fancypants, poised atop the prow of a very expensive-looking ship. He looked more like a stallion carved of marble than a living creature, his face stoic and eyes hard. In the background behind him was a distant city, green and prosperous, with faint light visible on the horizon. “It’s… nothing like the others in this gallery.”

She flicked her tail at the next portrait, this one composed of thousands of little dots, somehow coming together to show a photographer. Photo Finish’s portrait barely looked recognizably like a pony, stretched and distorted to impossible lengths. Sweetie would’ve called it hideous if pressed, but clearly the fancy guests didn’t think so.

“No two portraits are alike,” said a voice. Feminine, though a little lower than most mares, slightly raspy. Also the kind of eccentric voice Bon Bon expected an obscure artist to use. “Every client puts a little of their soul on the canvas. You see it before your eyes.”

She shuffled around the corner—the only pony Bon Bon had yet seen who wasn’t wearing designer clothes and several thousand bits worth of jewelry. She wore a painter’s smock, with a dozen different shades smeared into her white mane.

Even without the magically accurate portraits, Bon Bon could instantly see why this pony had attracted suspicion as a changeling. Her coat was stark black, with a white mane that was frequently stained with other shades. Her eyes were huge, magnified by enormous lenses that covered the better part of her face.

They didn’t seem to work very well either, judging by the way she bumped into Lyra while her girlfriend was standing completely still. “Sorry, sorry.” She shuffled back a step, feeling her way with a hoof rather than turning to look behind her. “Too eager to see my subject, perhaps. I am told it is you.”

Lyra nodded, apparently not noticing that the Rarity Original silk she was wearing now had a splash of teal ink from where she’d touched the smock. Bon Bon winced, but brushed it off as a sneeze. “Yeah. I asked—” She hesitated briefly, mouthing the beginning of Bon Bon’s real name, before she corrected herself. “I asked Minty if we could get one together. But I haven’t seen any group pictures here.”

“Quite impossible,” said the artist. She gestured around the gallery with one wave of her leg. “The vision of a pony cannot be joined by others. They would meddle and fuse, clouding my view of the truth. I only paint what is…” She shuffled back another few steps, adjusting the lenses on her eyes until she could apparently see Lyra. “I only paint what is true. It may not be what you are expecting.”

Lyra wilted, her ears folding slightly backward. She looked back at Bonnie, nervous. “Are we…”

“Absolutely,” Bon Bon said. “Would that we could afford your time for both of us. But my marefriend is the finer subject. As you can plainly see without my saying so.”

“Then… to my workshop we will go,” Picture Poise said. “Follow me.”

The workshop was down in the basement of the building. From the many shelves of supplies, the deep stains on the concrete, and the hundreds of covered canvases, Bon Bon guessed this was no temporary venue. Rather, this was where Picture Poise had always worked, only taking the gallery above for display for the day.

There were no lights at all in the hallways and supply rooms, not even old, chipped crystals. Then they reached the workshop itself, and Bon Bon was briefly blinded.

The medium Bon Bon suggested was already waiting: an elaborate display of a crashing wave on a rock, from which Lyra would recline with her dress draped beneath her. Art demanded beauty, not covering up her perfection with a dress she’d only worn once.

“You will remain here,” Picture Poise explained. “We have more water and refreshments nearby, should you grow weak from the light. Inform me if you are about to move, as it may spoil my stroke.”

Lyra nodded to obey, giving Bon Bon a sympathetic glance before retreating to the indicated position.

“Your partner may watch and wait while we begin,” the artist continued. “This commission was only for a simple portrait, not one of the polished pieces in the gallery above. Those take days to compose. But if you wish for something larger, talk to my assistant; we can schedule it.”

She settled onto a cushion in front of her canvas—a rectangle much smaller than those displayed above. But it would have to be, to accomplish this task in such a short time. Bon Bon joined her, remaining close—just past the artist’s chosen tools. Soft charcoal in various forms, each wrapped in cloth to grip evenly in magic.

“One final warning,” the mare said. “You… will not be aware of this. However, all my subjects must learn this secret before I begin. Otherwise, the art is impossible.”

Bon Bon sat up, glancing at the door they’d taken. Outside it, she caught a flicker of metal, and a single blue eye—Alpha Hoof, waiting for her signal to rush in and make the arrest. She twitched her head to the side, not looking away from the artist.

“Your partner already knows,” Picture Poise continued. “But for you, Kora, please don’t be alarmed. Understand that it is part of the process.”

The mare flashed green, and suddenly was several inches smaller, with a pair of broken transparent wings and milky, multifaceted eyes. She kept the charcoal in her grip, and somehow the smock and apron still fit. They must’ve been designed like that, to fit both bodies when she switched between them.

“I am not just the greatest artist of portraits in all Equestria. I’m also the finest changeling artist who ever lived.”

She tells them? Bon Bon stood in stupefaction, her mind racing with the implications. Everypony upstairs already knew. That probably meant the princess did too, even if she didn’t concern herself with the affairs of high society.

What kind of assassin reveals her disguise to everyone who hires her?

“Fine with me!” Lyra said, slipping out of the dress and laying flat across the display. “How did you want me to pose?”

Picture Poise—or whatever her real name was—gestured with the levitating charcoal. “Rest on your forelegs, turn towards me…perfect.”

It wasn’t, though. Lyra wasn’t really facing the artist at all; she was watching Bon Bon. In the stark lighting, her confusion was obvious on her face, along with the unasked question. “This is why we’re here, right?“

Sweetie Drops waved to her to keep posing, and settled down to watch the artist at her work.

There was no kidnapped pony to rush in to do the labor for her. She made the strokes, outlining the basic composition and anatomy, gradually filling them in. Already she was taking liberties with Lyra, making her body far longer and thinner than it really was. But not like a Canterlot unicorn; this was something else. Those legs didn’t look right.

“You’re… barely looking at her,” she observed, after about ten minutes of drawing. Long enough to form the lanky, top-heavy creature that Picture Poise had decided to draw. Not even remotely a pony. But not ugly, as other creatures went. She was still drawing Lyra, on some level she didn’t understand. “Why?”

“I’m… nearly blind,” Picture muttered. She tossed her huge glasses aside for emphasis, letting them clatter over the cement. “The specifics don’t matter—”

Then she hesitated, her head turning towards the doorway, then back at Bon Bon. “Or perhaps that’s why you’re here. Not for my work.”

“Keep drawing,” she said, nodding towards the portrait. “My marefriend really wants to see how it turns out, and I’m curious too. I just want to know…”

“Why do I work this way?” she asked. “Why show myself to my subjects? There must be rumors—and there are. Yet if you read the contract you signed when you commissioned me, you would see the foremost clause. That my methods for creating the work are secret, and if you reveal them, you forfeit the finished product and owe me a considerable sum of bits. No pony upstairs wants to risk that. They wait for years for a few days of my time.”

She levitated several small jars of paint into the air, selecting a white base and a few different shades of green, mixing them carefully on a palette. Blind or not, this mare knew what she was doing—every motion was precise.

“You would be just as blind if you stayed concealed,” Bon Bon argued. “We might not even be having this conversation if you had.”

“We certainly would not be,” Picture Poise agreed. “I look at my subjects the way a changeling does. My vision is gone, but that still works. Becoming a unicorn mutes my senses. I need to see, and feel.”

She gestured with her brush, adding the first few touches of color to Lyra’s body. Not fur, maybe skin? Strange. “Nopony could imagine this but her. Yet together, it will be real.”

Bon Bon settled onto her haunches beside the artist. There were no assassins to capture tonight. “I can’t wait to see what she thinks.”

“She will love it.” The bug looked back to her work, hunching into her focused body language. “They always do.”