I came in your darkest night. I alone understood its secrets, its veiled thoughts and buried secrets. At its peak, the longest moment of our longest reign, I came to you and I whispered truth.
Do not blame me for what befell us. We can only pick up the pieces and move on. For, whether it is as intense as the call for vengeance or as innocent as learning from mistakes, the past will bog you down. And if we do not move quickly, we will lose this war.
Sixteen
“SISTER . . . What doth this mean?”
“I’m not sure yet. You . . . you are correct. You are not the Nightmare.”
“Most certainly not!”
“Thank goodness for that.”
Luna stood with her sister, staring at the pieces of armour on the ground before them. Nightmare Moon’s first manifestation had created them with magic, and after her defeat they had dissolved, the spells breaking without her power to hold them together.
“That it found me seems less troubling.”
“Yes. There is that. Luna . . . truly you cannot remember?”
“Assuredly, I cannot. It seems but weeks past we stood together.”
“What about the prophecy?”
“. . . Sister?”
“The Drac, who spoke to you while you were searching for Twilight Sparkle and Rainbow Dash in the Everfree Forest?”
“Ah.”
“Well?”
“I have no memory of which you speak.”
Luna watched, concerned, as Celestia tossed her head in frustration.
“What happened to you, out there?” she cried. Luna levelled a hard gaze at her sister.
They both turned back to the armour.
“I cannot explain myself, but I feel a connection here. ‘Tis important.”
“I agree. That this should appear now . . . it is an omen, at the least.”
“In stature also. Did I not stand beneath you, sister, ‘ere I departed?”
“Nightmare Moon was taller than me,” Celestia murmured. “Just a bit, but still . . .”
Both sisters sank once again into a contemplative silence. Luna, glancing at her sister, shook her head gently. T’was . . . odd for ‘Tia to be so troubled, even over such as this. From Luna’s vague memories, she had handled Nightmare Moon’s first return with aplomb, As long as the Elements of Harmony remained, that mare was no threat.
Yet still she stared, intently, at the armour before them. Nightmare Moon’s . . . her old regalia, relics of a time before all this. It carried with it history, and brought forward feelings Luna had thought long since buried.
Something had done this. A broken spell did not suddenly reform, nor would anything she knew be able to recreate the spell matrices that had bound it. What troubled Luna wasn’t this simple truth—she held no fear for whatever would stand ‘gainst her. Rather, it was her buoyant emotions; a serenity that had engulfed her the moment she’d seen her sister that provided cause for alarm.
She should be frantic at this sign, the return of her nemesis and failure. If nothing else, she should be matching Celestia’s intensity, studying the armour in an attempt to divine its meaning. But she found herself lacking the will, the drive, to care, instead floating, as a leaf on the wind.
Where had her anger gone? Her worries, her dreams, her sorrows and joys, all lost somewhere. Luna raised her head, gazing out at the vista before her. Out there, beyond Equestria, something had happened, something that left her empty.
No, not quite empty. Of the six, she was left only with love. Affection for her sister, for the land she had returned to, threatened to overwhelm her. Before, the Nightmare had been constructed of rage, born in the absence of love. Perhaps that rage, returned to her after her cleansing, was now locked away, incarnated in the very memoirs lying before her.
Luna sighed. There were any number of theories that could answer what lay before them, and no way of distinguishing the truth. She could have performed some feat, over there, burning all feeling from her. It could be just an after-effect of her apparent memory loss. She saw no reason to distrust her sister, after all. She would make a point of catching up with this ‘Drac’ soon.
“We should return to Canterlot,” Celestia said, turning to look at her. “We’ve missed you, Luna. We all have.”
Smiling, Luna gathered the armour in her magic, floating it in front of her. Concentrating, she drew on the warmth Celestia inspired in her, the tranquil calm, and sent the pieces of armour to her chambers in the castle. They melted away, fading into the shadows.
Celestia let out a sigh. “I’d almost forgotten . . .
”
“Hmm?”
“The way you have, with magic. So soft, like the touch of silk in a world of wool.”
“‘Tis nothing but teleportation. Any other could manage such a thing.”
“No, not anypony. Even my own style is harsh, blindingly so.”
That was true, in its own way, though Luna thought her sister was being overly critical of herself. Where she moved silently, slinking through shadows, Celestia became as light, arcing over the land to strike her destination. It was a spectacle not only in power, but also grace, lending her a fluidity of movement that Luna considered breathtaking.
To hear admiration, from one who made it seem so effortless, was . . . gratifying, to say the least.
“I think I shall walk, ‘Tia, or at most fly. I wish to see the land again, feel the breeze on my face and hear the shrill sounds of life around me. Would you care to accompany me?”
This brought Celestia to smile, bobbing her head in acknowledgement. “I would like that.”
Luna led the way, gliding low over Equestria. Overhead, the sun was soon to reach its zenith, and though she could not see Canterlot in the distance, she was confident that she would be home by nightfall.
Relaxing, she closed her eyes, rejoicing in the serenity of the world. They passed over the desert, listening to the dull rush of the wind over the sand. They passed small creeks, and larger rivers, watching the water foam around rocks, curling with eddies and currents. They flew over small towns, smelling the sweet scents arising from bakeries and coffee shops, as the ponies ran, shouting and pointing as their Princesses passed overhead.
It was late evening when they saw the Canterlot mountain on the horizon, and Luna felt . . . home. Not just at peace, but content in the way one feels when they are wholly accepted. It struck her that she had never thought of Equestria as home, before, never felt the same ease within her rooms, her cities, or her borders. Somewhere, that had changed.
The mountain shuddered, a tremor running through it. Distantly, Luna could feel the sudden pulse of magic, exploding outwards. It had been powerful enough to visibly shake it.
Luna halted in mid-air, shocked. Beside her, Celestia shot forward, heading straight into that vortex of power. It took but a moment for Luna to follow, tearing after her sister.
***
For Rainbow, trying her best to comfort Twilight and Cadence at the bottom of the crater they had created in the side of the city, it seemed to take Celestia an age to appear. Even had she not sensed the magical energies ripping through the area—which Rainbow didn’t believe for a second—she should have felt the mountain shaking, and been there.
Nevertheless, when the Princess finally did swoop down, landing gently in front of the trio and regarding Shining Armour’s body with wide eyes, Rainbow felt a sudden sense of relief. Not only was she here, ready to fix everything, ready to make it better, but behind her was Luna, returned at last.
That must have been the subject of Rarity’s letter, she realised as Luna landed beside her sister.
Rainbow watched as the Princesses took the scene in. She watched as their jaws unhinged, dropping just slightly. She watched as their mouths tightened, eyes closing, pressing shut just briefly before opening again. She watched as they squared their shoulders, facing Twilight with a mixture of resolve and sorrow.
As Luna stepped forward, reaching out, Rainbow noticed something curious. Where before Luna had been nearly Celestia’s equal in height, now she was taller, if only slightly.
Twilight took a few moments to recognise their presence. Lifting her head, she gazed at her mentor with a slack expression. Rainbow tightened her forelegs around her, nuzzling her gently. She didn’t even know how she felt, yet. Twilight took up her entire awareness; she spared no thought beyond her comfort. In some ways, that was a relief.
“Please, Princess . . .” Rainbow whispered, as Twilight, recognising the two before her, broke down once again. “Please .
. .”
Her words broke the floodgates. Rushing forward, Celestia embraced Twilight, pressing her head against her cheek, murmuring to her. Next to them, Luna did the same for Cadence.
Rainbow could barely make out their words; meaningless apologies, condolences and sympathies. More important was the tone of voice, a soothing, calming tone that worked its way, gradually, gently, through Rainbow’s mind. She watched as lines of tension lost their rigidity, Twilight’s body slackening.
As it did, the light still emanating from both Twilight and Cadence began to dim. Without it, the evidence of their grief and anguished might, the crater was left in near total darkness.
Rainbow saw Celestia approach her, felt the Princess place a hoof on her shoulder. Celestia indicated Twilight, and Rainbow gathered her in her hooves once again. Twilight melted into her embrace.
“She needs to rest, Rainbow Dash,” Celestia said, looking down on Twilight. “Take her home. We will take care of this.”
“t-Thank you, Princess, Princesses,” Rainbow stammered. Luna did not turn from where she lay, carefully speaking to Cadance.
Rainbow took the skies, kicking up a small cloud of dust with her take-off. Just for an instant, the dust chased her skywards, rising around her rear legs, the wind buffeting and caressing her hooves and tail, before she shot out, tracing a gentle arc over the city.
Twilight made no movement to signify awareness. She hung limply in Rainbow’s forelegs, overcome. Rainbow supposed she was asleep, utterly spent, and in shock. There was, after all, only so much a pony could take.
The Princesses would take care of the . . . of the body. Even in her mind, Rainbow stumbled over the word. The aftermath of their fight with the wolf had been dreadful, but at least she’d known how to comfort Twilight. At least, there, she had been able to shoulder responsibility. Here, now, she had arrived too late, merely an observer of the tragedy. That left her stranded, alone, in her own peculiar way. She had no idea how to act.
The horror of the scene had paled in her mind next to Twilight’s mute expression. The face she had made, seeing them at the remains of the door, was burned into Rainbow’s memory. But she had had no way to comfort her, no way to take the blame and the guilt away. No way to reassure her, or contrast the horror with wonder.
Around her, Canterlot was slowly waking. The tremors running through the city had been severe, not to mention
unprecedented. Houses lit up even as she flew over them, street lights, wardens, and the Royal Guards pouring onto the streets to try to quell the crowds, all clamouring for a look, for a statement, for some sense of security.
Rainbow ignored them, ignored the distant cries they made as they saw her trail and the flashes of light that flickered in the corners of her vision. Homeward she sped, to Twilight’s house in Canterlot, to a warm bed and a locked door, company and solace from the lights and the dark of night.
She still had no idea what had happened back there, though she could speculate. Shining Armour . . . dead. Killed—murdered by somepony. Rainbow couldn’t imagine a reason sufficient, any situation warranting such a deed. She could barely bring herself to think of the act itself, despite the time spent she’d spent, soaking in his blood.
Indeed, she’d barely had time to think on the matter. Death, it seemed unreal, something that just couldn’t have happened. Not in a thousand years could anypony have been murdered. Every time she thought she’d accepted it, thought that the full weight of the situation had finally sunk onto her, she caught herself disbelieving. As if she was just waiting to wake up in the morning, the victim of a hot bed and an overactive imagination.
Rainbow preferred not to think about it. Indeed, the majority of her sorrow was directed not towards Shining Armour himself, or spent railing against the fate that had decreed his death. Rather, she found her thoughts full of Twilight, of Cadence, the wife, and the parents he had left behind. It was sympathy, not understanding, unable to relate or empathise. It was a shared sorrow, a pity of sorts that brought with it guilt.
What she did know, however, was that whoever had done it needed to be found, and, of all the ponies in Equestria, Rainbow knew who she’d trust above all else with finding another. She would see Twilight in bed before she left, but Rainbow herself felt no need of sleep, and by the morning, there would be another pony in Canterlot, one who could help them find the perpetrator. She was going to get Rarity.
***
Rarity was fast asleep when she heard a sharp knock on her window. Rapping three times, it jolted her awake, causing her to abruptly rise, sitting upwards in her bed with a hoof on her chest. Calming down, she briefly searched for the remnants of her dream, before giving it up for lost.
The knocks came again, harder now, followed by a muffled voice. Stumbling to her hooves, Rarity moved across the room, opening the window to see who could possibly be calling on her at this hour.
Impatiently awaiting her was a blue pegasus, hovering in the air.
“Rainbow Dash! What in Equestria are you doing here!?”
“Ah! No questions, Rarity, hop on!” Rainbow said, shoving a hoof into Rarity’s mouth and lowering a shoulder towards her.
Rarity tore Rainbow’s hoof away. “What!?”
“Rarity, could you just trust me, just this once? I promise, I’ll explain on the way, but right now Twilight needs you, so just get on my damn back!” She’d jammed herself into the window, left wing stretched onto the floor of Rarity’s bedroom while the right beat frantically to keep her level. She held Rarity’s gaze with an intensity that caused the unicorn to take a step back, away from those magenta orbs.
“Please.”
Rarity swallowed, taken aback. “Rainbow . . . Canterlot itself was shaking.”
“Rarity,” Rainbow spat. “Later.”
Rarity nodded. Reaching forward, she clasped Rainbow’s outstretched wing, gingerly clambering over her shoulder and settling herself onto her back. Rainbow didn’t wait for Rarity to find a comfortable perch before taking off, hurtling back towards Canterlot. Rarity let out a squeal. It was a few minutes before she trusted herself to speak.
“So, Rainbow, what’s happened to Twilight?”
“She’d want to tell you herself,” Rainbow said through gritted teeth.
“Are you quite alright?” Rarity asked. Rainbow didn’t just sound strained from the effort she was putting into her flight. They were moving at a remarkable speed, enough to blur the landscape and strip tears from her eyes and words from her mouth, throwing them backwards into the vortex of their passage.
“What?” Rainbow called.
Rarity pressed herself closer to Rainbow, hugging her torso and pulling her head up to rest alongside Rainbow’s ear. The position almost felt intimate, would have, if not for the tightness of her grip, and the resolute tension thrumming through Rainbow’s body.
“I asked, are you quite alright?” she repeated. She could no longer see Rainbow’s face, but she could feel it, in a way. The pegasus’ emotions were bleeding off her, running through her body language and charging the air around them.
Rarity’s mind flashed back to Twilight’s lessons, back, in the Ponyville library. She’d gathered them all, believing that an understanding, no matter how basic, of another’s abilities could help each refine their own. There was, Rarity supposed, some truth in that, after all. She’d been able to share a great deal of what she did with Fluttershy, and to a lesser extent Pinkie.
A pegasi’s flight drew on subconscious magic, altering the density of the air around them in order to generate lift and thrust far in excess of what their muscles and wingspans should be able to provide.
Rarity could almost taste the sorrow and the anger on the air, in the wind rushing past her face. Rainbow must be burning off an awfully large amount for her to feel the effects around them. So, while Rarity wasn’t able to read Rainbow like she normally would, she wasn’t particularly surprised by her answer.
“No, I’m not.”
But Rainbow didn’t offer anything else. Rarity pressed her eyes shut, forcibly relaxing her face.
“Listen here, Rainbow Dash! While you may beat yourself up about whatever you like in the privacy of your own quarters, when you bring it to my house in the middle of the night and take me away to Canterlot, you make me a part of it! And I demand to know what in Equestria is going on!”
Rainbow didn’t respond immediately. Rarity felt her chest press against Rainbow’s back as she trembled, forcing down the indignation that had burst out. She’d always found patience difficult when deprived sleep.
“Did you know that Luna’s back?” Rainbow said. Rarity paused, thrown off-balance.
“Yes,” she said, guardedly.
Rainbow nodded. “I thought that was what your letter was about.”
“So you did get it! Why didn’t the two of you come down?”
“We had . . . pressing matters.”
“Such as?”
“You saw the mountain shaking? Yeah, that was Twi’. She’s sleeping it off right now, and I went to get you, but if I’m not there when she wakes . . . I’m going to be seriously pissed. So please, enough with the talking, and let me fly!”
Rarity quieted down at that. But where curiosity and the exhilarating terror of her immediate situation called to her, sleep demanded her. The others didn’t—couldn’t, in fact—appreciate how draining Sight could be, and her recent exercise of it had strained her. It was a wonder she’d awoken to Rainbow’s knocking at all.
But then, who was to say that the pegasus hadn’t been there for more than a few minutes, trying to get her attention?
As much as she struggled to focus, Rarity felt her eyelids begin to droop. The initial adrenaline was fading, and with it her will began to abandon her. Really, what harm could it cause? She would be awoken when they reached their destination anyway.
Clinging tight to her friend, Rarity felt the helplessness in the wind rushing past her, closed her eyes and saw despair in the darkness that enveloped her world. She allowed sleep to overtake her, and, encased within Rainbow’s cocoon of air, did not dream at all.
***
Cousin,
Ah know we don’t keep in all that close contact, but Ah’m afraid Ah haven’t any place left to turn. We’re reliant on water sent out from Cloudsdale; see; only of late the clouds ain’t been reachin’ us.
All we folk seem ta be out at sea, but Ah remembered ya knew a couple o’ pegasuses that oughta sort it all out lickety-split.
Ya’ll probably busy this time o’ year, but Ah wouldn’t be asking if we didn’t need ya.
Braeburn
Applejack folded the letter, stowing it back in her saddlebags. She’d brought it out to show Fluttershy once the pegasus had finished relating her Dream. It certainly seemed the problems Appleloosa was facing were worse than Applejack had thought—much worse than she’d indicated to the others.
Still, there was no reason they couldn’t handle it. Though the fact that the few pegasi in Appleloosa had, apparently, no idea what was going on wasn’t promising. Applejack sighed. They were nearly there, and she was growing tired. At the very least, they would have a look in the morning.
The train pulled into the station just as the sun sent the last glimmers of light over the horizon, granting Applejack a rapidly fading vision of Appleloosa. The town had grown since she’d last seen it, a sprawling mess of small houses and roughshod construction. Puffs of wind swept clumps of dry, dead grass across the dusty ground, painting the scenery with drab browns and yellows. Inhaling, Applejack could taste the grit in the air, testament to the toil that continued all around her.
It still seemed an odd place for a town, to her, out here, in the desert, in the middle of nowhere. The nearest settlement was Dodge Junction, nearly a half day away by hoof. The orchard was situated in arable land, but . . . why come out here in the first place?
The water problem they were having certainly supported her doubts. As Braeburn had mentioned, Appleloosa relied on shipments from Cloudsdale—which were sent as clouds. It seemed somewhere along the way, they were dumping their water, though Applejack couldn’t imagine why. The rest of Equestria had never had a problem before.
Applejack headed down the too-wide main street. Braeburn hadn’t met her at the station. She couldn’t decide if that was good or bad.
“Come on, Fluttershy. We’d better see the sheriff, tell him we’re here,” she said, beckoning. “Then we can hit the hay.”
Beside her, Fluttershy nodded, following. “Actually, Applejack . . . where are we going to stay?”
“Well, I’d assume with mah cousin. ‘Course, there’s always the hotel.”
Fluttershy didn’t offer any reply to that beyond a quiet sound of acknowledgement.
Braeburn had showed them all around the town the last time they’d come, and despite the time since then, Applejack found the town easy enough to navigate. Particularly helpful was the sounds of raised voices over the still of the evening.
“Ah’m telling you, it’s not enough!”
“It’s all we’ve got right now! So ya’ll are just gonna have ta make do!”
“There’s plenty o’ water!”
“Ah’ve told you, Braeburn, just like I told the rest of the town. That ain’t ours, and we ain’t taking it.”
“Pah. If Silver Star were still here . . .”
“Well he ain’t! So you’d better fall in line, bucko, ‘cause there’s a new sheriff in town.”
New sheriff?
Applejack walked up to the office, slamming the door back into the wall to draw attention. She strode into the room, glaring daggers at her cousin and the sheriff both.
Braeburn was that same stallion, excitable and full of energy, though he looked older, and stood awkwardly, favouring his forelegs. It made him seem stilted, and as he turned to face her, she saw him spin himself around without lifting his back hooves off the ground.
The sheriff, on the other hand, was younger, with a long, tangled, golden blonde mane. Sharp blue eyes were set above a sweeping nose and a protruding upper lip, though there was something about his stance, the set of his jaw and firmness of his gaze that made it clear to Applejack who was in charge here.
“Applejack!” Braeburn exclaimed, hobbling forward. Swallowing, Applejack stepped forward into his rough embrace. “You came!”
“Of c-“
“This here’s our new sheriff, ol’ Bill. Duck Bill, we call ‘im round here. Sure was a shame when Silver Star left, on account o’ family problems back in Dodge City.”
“Brae-”
“I wrote a little ‘bout the water problems we’ve been havin’, though we hadn’t found the reservoir back then. Ah’m sure it’d have enough for all of us, but we ain’t the only ones in the midst o’ a drought.”
“Braeburn!” Applejack hollered. Age hadn’t changed him one bit, but, finally noticing her impatience, cleared his throat sheepishly.
The sheriff stepped forward, shaking hooves with Applejack and Fluttershy in turn.
“Hello, Applejack, was it? It’s always a pleasure ta meet a member of this one’s . . . colourful family. Ah trust you’ll keep him in check?”
“As much as ah can, Sheriff,” Applejack replied, earning a chuckle.
“And this one. Who’s your friend, Applejack?”
“I’m . . . Fluttershy.”
“Flutters here’s one of my closest friends. Ah brought her on account of the weather problems and such. We thought a pegasi would be best suited to fixin’ the problem.”
“That just so happens to be our thinking as well,” Bill replied with a grimace. “Sadly, it’s proven quite insufficient.”
“That was what Ah’m curious about. Appleloosa’s got to have more’n a couple o’ pegasi flying around. Why can’t any of them see to it?”
Bill shook his head. “Most o’ our pegasi are tied up dealing with the sandstorms. We can’t really spare any more, even if this be our water. Those storms would rip through our town, our orchards . . . everything.”
“The others?”
“A couple headed out to Cloudsdale a few days back. They thought it might’a been something down that end.” Braeburn chimed in.
“Damn fools,” Bill said. “There ain’t nothing wrong with Cloudsdale.”
“They were just checking!”
“They’ve left us without anypony to actually help out. Chasing after that city . . . Everypony knows it ain’t Cloudsdale!”
“You cain’t know that, Duck!”
“Ya can feel it, on the wind. Somethin’s wrong, here, it ain’t nowhere else.”
By now, Braeburn and Bill were facing each other, completely forgetting about the two mares in the room with them. Applejack could see the tension rising, bouncing back and forth between the two. Each was convinced that he was right and neither willing to back down.
“Now, listen here. Ah know those two folks personally, and Ah’m not about to stand here and listen ta you slander them what’s just trying ta help!”
“If they wanted ta help, they’d’ve stayed and helped!”
Applejack opened her mouth, but Fluttershy placed a hoof on her shoulder, drawing her back, and gently interjecting herself into the conversation.
“Excuse me, everypony, but is there a place we can sleep? I think we’d all be thinking better after a good night’s rest.”
And just like that, the tension vanished. Braeburn hung his head, and Bill sighed.
“. . . She’s right. Ah’ll speak with you here, in the morning. Braeburn, Applejack, Miss Fluttershy,” Bill said, tipping his hat to each pony before heading out the back door.
“Come with me, Ah’ll get you set up,” Braeburn said, pulling himself towards the door. Applejack and Fluttershy followed him out onto the street.
“By the by, cousin, what happened to ya leg?”
“Sprained it, kicking a tree. Couple o’ years back, I’d a been right as rain with some bed rest. Now . . . I ain’t healing so easy.”
“I’ll take a look at it, if you’d like,” Fluttershy said from a few paces back.
“Fluttershy here’s one o’ the best nurses a pony could ask for. I’m sure she’ll fix you up in a jiffy.”
“Well . . . if ya’ll are sure . . . that’d be grand. But come now, AJ. How am I ever gonna repay you for all this?”
“Ah don’t wanna hear a word about it, Braeburn. We’re family, and that’s all there is to it.”
Braeburn led them slowly through the streets, eventually halting out the front of a large farmhouse. Reminiscent of Applejack’s home, the wooden building was situated near the path down to the orchard.
“This here be my home,” Braeburn said. “I’d be honoured ta have the two of you stayin’ with me while you’re here.”
Applejack nodded, smiling, and headed inside. If she was right, and it was modelled after the Apple family’s traditional houses, there would be guest rooms on the third story, on the left.
Fluttershy, however, lingered below, quickly taking stock of her surroundings. As she made her way through the kitchen cupboards, putting some water on to boil and searching for bandages and other first-aid supplies, she struck up conversation with her host. They hadn’t spoken much last time she’d been here, and she didn’t really know her patient all that well.
“Braeburn, do you live with anypony? This is an awfully big house.”
“Naww, I just keep it this way on account of this here’s an Apple house. Ponies move through, now and then, and Ah always need more room in harvest season.”
“I see.” And more than perhaps any other, Fluttershy did understand. She lived in near-perpetual isolation herself, with only her animals and Dreams for company. She’d felt the bitterness of loneliness, and the secret joys of one’s own company. They were akin in that.
It wasn’t that she tried to keep to herself, away from others. She’d been guilty of that, in her youth, but she liked to think she was beyond it, had moved past some of those insecurities. Her situation arose more from the way she was so comfortable alone. She rarely longed for company, felt pangs for others only from time to time. When they came, she would make some excuse to visit the town, for supplies, or a few luxuries around the house.
But by and large she was content, and she could see that same easiness in Braeburn. It mattered less to him what others thought, because he was comfortable in himself. Secure, with this place of refuge to retreat to, with only the orchard to shape his days.
From just those few words, Fluttershy realised what he’d meant, inviting them into his house. Despite what Applejack had said, her words about family, he could have simply placed them in rooms at the hotel. There was no prerogative for their stay here, not in his house, in his castle.
But he had brought them here nonetheless, presented them with no other choices. It was more than just a roof over their heads and food in the mornings, it was an invitation to stay with him, to see Braeburn as he truly was.
Smiling, Fluttershy brought the kettle and bandages she’d found stashed at the back of a cupboard with her as she approached him.
“Now, let’s have a look at that leg. Just lie still, this won’t hurt a bit.”