“And over here we have the restricted section.” Tattered Page's hooves clopped across the hardwood floor of the Canterlot Archives. He gazed wistfully across the rows of dusted bookshelves he'd tended to for half a century, his worn face creasing into a melancholy smile.
Trailing behind the aging ex-archivist was his new replacement, Loki Odinson. The two ponies approached a plain wooden door. “Very dangerous things kept in here,” Tattered continued, his rich voice laced with the heavy, glottal tones of his native Stalliongrad. He reached up to touch a hoof to his gold-rimmed glasses, turning to face Loki. “The only way anyone can enter is with a pass. Only the University or the Princess herself is allowed to issue one. Not even I can go in there without one of those slips of paper.”
Loki stamped down the urge to smile as he gazed up at the tall, unassuming door. “Dangerous things, hmm?” Loki reached out to press a hoof to the door, only for his forelimb to be blown back by an invisible cushion of magical force.
Tattered laughed, his jowls shaking as he shook his head. “What did I tell you, Loki? It is imperative we keep these secrets out of the wrong hooves. Why, it is rumored that the secret diary of Starswirl the Bearded is housed here.”
Loki permitted himself a single raised eyebrow. “Starswirl the Bearded? I had heard that all of his writings were over in the Canterlot Library.”
“Only the writings approved for publication, Loki. You can find many copies of his mundane spellworks at the Library; if it exists, you'll only find his diary here. In fact, that's what makes the archives so special.” Tattered raised an arm, waving it in a grand, sweeping gesture. “Every codex, every scroll, every book, and every piece of parchment here is unique and irreplaceable. They are single-prints, out of print, or the last remaining copy.”
Loki inclined his head toward the shelf next to him, gazing at the antiquated books leaning against one another. “A heavy responsibility,” he mused, reaching up to push one of the books back into place.
“Da, this is true.” Tattered began walking toward the front of the archives, Loki falling in step behind him. “This is the reason for the magical protection on our restricted section. Even when you become the archivist, your comings and goings from that room will be recorded. Don't ask me how, that's just what was told to me.”
As they reached the front desk, Loki cleared his throat to get Tattered's attention. “Pardon me for prying, but there is something I have been meaning to ask for quite some time.” Letting the question hang for half a second, he finally gestured toward the hammer and anvil on Tattered's rear end. “Your cutie mark has conspicuously little to do with pages, Tattered Page.”
Tattered pursed his lips and tilted his head forward, pressing a hoof to his glasses and sliding them down his face. “This is not a question. And the same could be said of you, Loki with the ice cubes on his ass.”
Loki bowed his head deferentially. “Excuse me, I meant no disrespect. I was only curious.”
“I could speak of what curiosity does to cats, but it is a good question.” Tattered nodded, pressing his glasses back up his nose. “It is true that most ponies have a name that somehow relates to their special talent. Believe it or not, my name does; rather, my real name from my old country.” Leading Loki to the west wing of the archives, Tattered turned a corner and began to make his way up a creaking set of spiral stairs.
“When I was picked to be an apprentice,” Tattered continued, “steel had not yet been invented. That came later. The first metal I worked with was iron.” He smiled, his eyes once again filling with nostalgia. “Ah, when I struck my hammer down on that fiery ingot, I knew that sweat and metal was my future.” He gestured to the hammer and anvil on his rump. “Then this appeared, of course, and the rest is history.”
The two of them crested the top of the staircase and into a short hallway, Tattered lost in a reverie of his own memories. Loki coughed softly, gaining the stallion's attention once more.
“Oh. Pardon me, Loki.” Tattered chuckled, shaking his head slowly. “Thank you for indulging an old pony's insanity. To answer your question, my original name was Iron Monger.” Pressing his hoof to a plain-looking wooden door, he pushed it open. “This is where you shall be staying.”
The door creaked open to reveal a small circular room with tall wooden walls that curved gently into a domed skylight, streaks of sunlight shining through its transparent panes. A single bed was built into the western wall, a tall window overlooking its crisply made sheets. A heavy desk surrounded by packed boxes stood opposite the bed, spaces for writing and other such activities set aside across its broad surface.
“It is not much,” Tattered said warmly, “but you will come to find it comforting.” The old stallion winked. “Rent-free with a 300 bit weekly stipend is quite comfortable in my estimation.”
Loki walked to the center of the room, the warm rays from the sun shining off his golden helmet. Tilting his head back, he stared up at the clear blue sky through the skylight's windows, taking in the view for a few seconds before turning his magenta eyes to the room around him.
“It's sufficient.” Loki walked over to the desk – his desk, and pulled one of the drawers open. Pencils rolled about over sheaves of paper. Another drawer held more formal paper next to a few quills and ink pots. “Though, I must say: I am still rather unsure of the buying power of bits.”
Tattered chuckled, waving away the question. “300 bits a week will keep you fed well enough. You might be able to buy a few distractions, as well.” Walking over to his old desk, the old pony's voice took on a more serious note. “If you were looking to get rich from this job, Loki, I am afraid you chose the wrong position.”
Loki's horn glowed as he levitated a book out of one of the boxes. “Not all riches are monetary, Tattered Page. Some of us value more esoteric things, such as knowledge.” Turning the book horizontally, the spine's title shifted into view. Collating Chaos: An Exhaustive Exposé of Draconequus Biology by D. Trotssey.
“I knew there was a reason I chose you.” Tattered gave Loki's shoulder a hard, ingratiating slap, laughing. “Keep my old books if you wish. Consider it a gift from one academic to another. Though I must give a warning; you will be hard-pressed to find the time to read them once you start your new position.”
Loki smirked, setting the book back into its box. “Not to belittle your job, Tattered Page, but I was once a king.” He looked over his shoulder, catching a twinkle of amusement in the stallion's eye. “How hard can it be in comparison?”
-----------------------------
The sonorous knell of the 6 AM bell resounded through Loki's living space. Shook from his slumber, he once cursed his mortal form, the damnable train station bell, and life in general.
Rising from his rumpled bed, the pains in his stomach told him that he was indeed suffering for skipping meals. Gazing at the pile of books surrounding his sleeping space, each tome at varying levels of completion, he reflected that the occasional stomach ache was a small price to pay.
Hopping down from his bed, he strolled across his small room. His ears perked up and he turned, levitating a small pencil toward the calender set up next to his bedroom. Scrawling the fourteenth in a series of X's in the month, he set the pencil down and shook his head. A fortnight already?, thought he, casting his gaze to his reading desk. As was the case around his bed, the desk nearly toppled over with interesting books, codices, and parchments he'd found around the archives.
Picking up his saddlebags sitting next to the door, Loki flung the heavy sac over his back, the jingle of bits livening up the morning silence. A sharp glow surrounded his body, cooling down to reveal his usual green-and-gold attire, his horned helmet appearing atop his head. Opening the door, he shot a gaze over his shoulder, ticking boxes on a mental checklist. For a brief moment, his eyes rested on a chess board set atop a pile of books, a pair of wine glasses stacked neatly nearby. The smallest of smiles tugged at the corners of his mouth.
With quick trots, he walked down the short hallway. His door closed and locked with a familiar bang-clunk. As with every morning before, he wondered if such a precaution was necessary in such a naive world.
“Better to be secure than to be robbed,” Loki mused aloud as he descended the spiral staircase into his archives. Stopping at the base, he made his way toward the front doors. The sight of the restricted section doorway gave him pause, his magenta eyes sizing up the mockingly plain wood through several aisles of bookshelves.
“Perhaps today.” Loki's voice was as icy as the cutie mark he'd adopted, staring down the damnable door as he'd done for two weeks. As it had done since he'd taken the job, the door stood ignorantly between him and whatever secrets lay beyond.
A deep, gurgling noise rolled through his stomach. “Damn it all,” he breathed. “Curse mortality and its incessant need for sustenance.”
-----------------------------
“Morning, sunshine.” Violet Sapphire smiled down from streetside bistro, green eyes taking in her most recent regular customer. She leaned forward and pressed her chin into one of her light-purple hooves. “Burning the candle at both ends again?”
Loki approached her cart, frowning at the vendor's comment. “Is it that obvious, Violet?”
“You've got bags under your eyes bigger than your crown.” She smiled, leaning down to fish the ingredients for an egg-and-oat sandwich on rye from behind her counter. “The usual?”
“Of course. With some ginseng tea, if you please.” Loki opened up his saddlebags, fishing out a few bits and setting them on the counter.
“You know,” Violet said, taking his payment, “you don't seem like the type of stallion who can't cook for himself. Not that I'm complaining.”
Loki offered a wan smile. “Cooking requires time. Ingredients. Proper refrigeration facilities.” He raised a challenging brow. “And perhaps I just like the pleasure of your company.”
Violet flushed despite herself, turning away to busy herself with the making of Loki's tea. “Can't imagine why. All I ever do is bug you with questions.”
Loki's smile grew. “You will find that I am a stallion who rather enjoys talking about himself.”
“You and about every other stallion in the world.” Violet chuckled at her lame joke, pouring off Loki's tea into a portable bottle. Twisting the cap on, she set it on the counter and leaned forward slightly. “What is you do that keeps you up so late, anyway?”
Loki levitated his breakfast into his saddlebags, offering a small shrug. “I read. I watch the stars. I play chess.”
“Chess? What, with yourself?”
“No.” Loki met Violet's gaze. “I play chess with Princess Luna every night. We are evenly matched and we cannot seem to beat one another.”
Violet stared into Loki's magenta eyes for a few more moments. A giggle bubbled up her throat, turning into full-bellied laughter. She pressed her hooves to her nose, closing her green eyes and shaking her head.
“I'm sorry, I'm sorry,” she squeaked, opening one eye and wiping away a few tears. “ 'Playing chess with Princess Luna'. Oh, Loki, I've heard some whoppers in my time, but that one takes every cake.”
Loki grinned from ear to ear. “It was worth a try.”
“Excuse me,” came a voice from behind. Loki looked over his shoulder, a male and female pony in trendy clothing glaring back at him. The female tilted her head back, regarding Violet with a condescending stare. “If you are quite done flirting, we would like to be served.”
“Yes, Ms. Crust. Right away, Ms. Crust.” Violet set Loki's order on the counter, giving him an apologetic half-smile. Loki floated his breakfast into his saddlebags, taking a look at the snobby pair. A brief memory of Tattered's retirement party flashed through his mind, a picture of a pair of ponies quite like them engaged in simpering sycophancy to other members of the Canterlot elite. Self-important twits, Loki decided.
Straying through the winding cobblestone streets of Canterlot, Loki pulled his sandwich out. Pulling the cellophane from around it, he took a few contemplative bites before rounding a corner, the large green lawn of his archives coming into view. The squat, stately building shone in the early morning sun, the domed structure of his home standing tall above the rounded walls.
Sipping his tea, he moved around the archives from the back, rounding a corner to see a small gaggle of ponies standing in some semblance of a line. The median age among them couldn't have been out of their twenties, more than a few of them sporting some form of clothing that noted them as University students.
“The archives will open at its usual time,” Loki said, taking a perverse satisfaction in making a few of the ponies jump. “I suggest you all leave to take in breakfast, or perhaps get another hour's worth of sleep. Unless any of you has request for something from the restricted section.” Standing in front of the double doors, Loki eyed the gathered ponies. “That will require extra time, so giving it to me now will allow me to have it ready when the archives open.”
The ponies looked at one another, waiting for anyone meeting the criteria to speak. Some of them shrugged, while others shook their head. Loki made a face, shaking his head. “I shall see you all in an hour, then.” Shutting out the ponies' protests, he turned and unlocked the double doors, slipping inside.
The darkened foyer of the archives greeted him, thin slits of sunlight streaming in through the ceiling windows. The front desk bore his name on a matte gold plaque, a massive book of records open on its wooden surface. Downing the last of his breakfast, he set his tea on the desk and hopped up the few steps to take a seat behind it.
Shrugging off his saddlebags, Loki's horn lit up, flipping through the pages of the immense directory. His mane ruffled with the artificial wind produced by the flipping pages, until he finally stopped. On the left side of the book, the pages looked brand new, the even, legible script representing a logical sorting system. On the right side the aging pages were filled with half-finished notes in a strange, blocky language. If there was any rhyme or reason to the sorting system the language represented, Loki had not fully sussed its meaning.
“Finally we are close to being done,” Loki breathed, flipping through the last original pages left in the book. With a heavy thud, he closed the book. His horn glowing bright, he pulled a drawer open to withdraw a large wooden box. Stepping down from his perch, Loki began trotting his way deeper into the archives. “Tattered Page, your filing system could have been used as a system of torture in Hel.”
Running a mental countdown, Loki moved through the aisles, looking at the plaques placed at the end of each large, wooden structure. The books, codices, and scrolls were stacked neatly and exactly, following a rigid number system. On the binder or corner of each entry, a new stamp registered its place in the new system. Loki's countdown soon reached its end, and he stopped at the last few shelves he had left to process. Their dusty, haphazardly-stored entries made him slowly shake his head.
“Very well. Gentlecolts, it is once again time.” Loki closed his eyes, his body shimmering like a sheet of glass. His furred flesh warped and expanded, bleeding out in a rainbow of color until two exact replicas of him stepped out of his original form. From the hard-light clones, two more again were spawned, totaling six fully-formed copies by the time the real Loki opened his eyes.
“You know your roles. Let us hurry, so this might be the last time we have to do this.” Each clone nodded, turning from their master and trotting to their assigned row, disappearing between the bookcases. Loki's horn glowed again, sliding the top of his wooden box off and setting aside.
Inside the box lay several sheets of new, crisp parchment, a quill pen with an ink pot, and a large, custom-made rubber stamp. Removing each item in turn, he looked up to see his clones walking out from the bookcases, each with an item held in their mouths. Loki levitated his quill, dipping it in the dark purple ink and holding it up, using it to motion one of his other selves closer.
One by one, each item was properly recorded. Loki took down as much information as he could about each slip of parchment and each book, from author to title to date of publication. After its entry, the item in question received its stamp, denoting its new placement in the archives along with a unique ten-digit number. Handing the entry back to his doppelganger, Loki moved on to the next one. For its part, the clone moved back to its aisle, leaving its cargo in a neat pile for future restocking.
As the seconds and minutes ticked by, the pile grew larger and increasingly amorphous. Thick rolls of parchment, propaganda posters from foreign nations, and long lists of ingredients for lost spells were piled as neatly as possible on a growing mountain of books and codices of all shapes and sizes. Sitting in the center of the growing pile, Loki watched over the slow procession of his mirage minions. The scratching of his quill and the soft squidge of his stamp were the only sounds that kept him company.
“Hold on a second,” he said softly, head tilted to the side to read the spine of a book. His clone stood dutifully still, tilting its head in the opposite direction to aid his comprehension. “A Brief History of Harmony: Myths and Facts Surrounding The Elements of Harmony. Hmm.” Loki levitated the book out of his clone's mouth, shooing it away to continue its work. Flipping it open, he breezed through a few pages, gleaning a few tidbits of information here and there.
“Well, then,” he said, setting the book on a smaller pile just next to him. “Congratulations to you, S. Hocking. Your book will find itself quite comfortable in my personal library.” Loki made a note of the book in his log, putting its official placement as Redacted, In Need Of Restoration.
Caught up in the monotonous yet rewarding nature of his task, Loki found himself surprised when he heard the train bell tolling the half-hour. Looking up at the skylights, he saw what had once been a sky bruised reddish-orange was now a deep, rich blue. Cursing under his breath, he turned to his clones.
“Once again time gets away from us. We have half an hour until we must open.” His mirages nodded in understanding. “Very good. Let us be quick, shall we?”
-----------------------------
Loki emerged from the inner aisles of the archives exactly a minute before he was due to open. No sign of his mirages or the work they had done remained; so far as any pony would be able to tell, Loki had simply rearranged the archives himself.
Climbing the few steps up to his desk, he seated himself behind it and opened the directory. Flipping through to where he had left off that morning, he deftly ripped the old pages out and set them aside. Opening his wooden box, he fished the new pages out, setting them down in the directory so their long edges pressed against its inner spine. Loki's horn gave a bright spark, driving the parchments' fibers to intermingle with the directory's spine. Within seconds, it looked as if the pages had always been part of the large tome.
Looking up, Loki cast his eyes to the large clock hanging above the archive's main double doors. Ten seconds to 8 AM. As it had been every day since he'd started, Loki was prepared barely ahead of schedule. The seconds trickled away, and Loki steeled himself for the coming onslaught. Closing his eyes, his horn glowed for barely a second. A quick click-thunk and the double doors were opened.
Barely unlocked, the doors swung open. In twos and threes, pony after pony walked inside, their official request forms held between their teeth or floated in front of them. University students, government officials, writers and historians; each of them needed a particular book or scroll, buried deep in the aisles behind Loki.
“Good morning,” he spoke with a small inclination of his head. “Welcome to the Canterlot Archives. If this is your first time, my name is Loki. I am pleased to see you have already formed an orderly line” Loki smiled, his small joke earning him a few laughs from the crowd. He motioned to the pony closest to his desk. “Please form a line behind this lovely mare and we shall get started.”
This Lovely Mare smiled, tilting her head back to offer up her request form. Floating the slip of paper up to his desk, Loki quickly looked over the stamps and signatures. Finding everything to be in order, he searched through the directory for the book in question. In a few flips of the tome's large pages, he found the book, his mind recalling its exact placement among the shelves.
“Just a moment, please.” Loki hopped down from his perch, turning into his archives and beginning the search. With brisk trots, he made his way through the maze, finding his prize nestled exactly where he'd placed it not a week earlier. Levitating it up, he made his way back up front as quickly as he'd come, emerging to smile at the grateful-looking mare.
“One hour in the reading room,” he said, motioning for her to follow as he marched across the large foyer. The reading room was a large room set aside from the foyer, its interior lined with relaxing paintings overlooking row upon row of rich cherrywood reading desks. Several clear book rests were stacked along the wall, one of which Loki floated over to a desk. Setting the book down in the rest, it settled open, its brittle pages crackling softly as it opened up like a blossoming flower.
“Please be careful, miss,” Loki called over his shoulder as he walked to the door. “The book is a over a hundred years old. Anyone would be quite brittle after such a long life.” The mare smiled and nodded, seating herself down in front of her prize and beginning to read. Satisfied that she was taken care of, Loki closed the door behind him.
-----------------------------
“And here you are,” Loki said as he stepped back into the foyer. He held out the scroll, the pegasus stallion for whom he'd fetched it accepting it with a careful bite. “Please return it within a week, and do try to be careful with it. It's only ten years old, but it's the last Treatise on Aerodynamics we have.” The pegasus nodded with understanding, carefully placing the scroll under his wing before he trotted out.
Stealing a glance at his clock, Loki drew his face into an apologetic smile. “Terribly sorry, fillies and gentlecolts, but it is fifteen minutes before my daily lunch break.” Closing his eyes, Loki nodded indulgently as a wave of disappointed sighs and calls washed over him. “I know, I know. Please leave your request forms on my desk and I shall endeavor to have your selections ready when we open again at one.”
Briskly shifting toward his reading room, Loki trotted the few paces between it and his desk. Cracking the door, he leaned inside and painted the same subtly self-effacing smile on his face. “Excuse me, but I shall have to ask you all to please finish whatever notes you are taking in the next fifteen minutes. My lunch break is about to commence and I shall have to lock up the archives. Please leave your materials where they are. Thank you all.”
In the foyer, the half-dozen or so ponies whom he had yet to serve had left their slips in a neat pile and vacated, the double doors creaking shut almost as soon as he pulled his head from the reading room. Checking the clock again along the way, he swiftly looked through each slip. His nostrils flared with a snort as he saw that, yet again, each slip was frustratingly missing a seal in the Restricted Section box.
The reading room door clicked shut, rousing Loki from his momentary malaise. He offered a smile and a nod to the exiting ponies, following them a few paces behind as they made their way to the exit. “Thank you, thank you,” he said, his voice cordial and appreciative. “We will be opening again in an hour and thirty minutes. If no other pony has requested your selections, I shall leave them in the reading room should you wish to continue.”
The ponies smiled their vapid smiles and said their empty thanks, and for a moment Loki's smile faltered. Swiftly he recovered, “Thank you, thank you. Yes, have a nice day. Thank you. Goodbye.” He shut the door, a bit too quickly, and bolted it shut. Leaning forward, the curved horns of his crown scraped against the wood as he hung his head, shoulders sagging and his read legs giving out to let his rump rest against the cool floor.
Sliding his eyelids shut, he attempted to regulate his breathing by drawing in deep gulps and letting them out in slow exhalations. Picking up a forehoof, he rapped it against the dark wooden floor. Once, twice, three times. Again and again, over and over, a lock of black mane slipping from under his helmet to fall in front of his face. Screwing his eyes tighter, he slowly shook his head.
Nostrils flaring once again, he leaned his head back and let loose a rasping sigh. Turning with a flourish of his long tail and green cape, he glared through the dense foliage of bookshelves. Staring through them, back toward that accursed room, its secrets still locked away behind its magical defenses.
“Perhaps this afternoon,” Loki whispered, almost as if he were afraid the door might hear him. Pulling himself away from the entrance, he trudged back to his desk to sort through the request slips in greater detail. Books needed to be shelved, scrolls needed to be tightly bound, and records needed to be kept.
-----------------------------
Minutes later, a calmer and more collected Loki exited the archives, entering a midday Canterlot bustling with activity and smelling of a complex bouquet of fragrances. Foodstuffs of all sorts intermingled with the royal gardens and the unmistakeable odor of thousands upon thousands of equine citizens, going to and fro about their daily lives. Staring out across the archive's expansive lawns, Loki pondered what to do with himself for the next hour and change.
A shadow slowly rolled over him, a dark cloud inching its way past the lip of the archive's roof. As Loki walked, the cloud followed his movements, stopping as he did. Loki jerked his head right, catching movement at the edge of his vision. It had looked like a bush across the lawn had rustled. Casting a suspicious gaze across his surroundings, Loki set off again towards the city proper, the cloud inching closer and closer behind him.
A flash of light preceded the peal of thunder by milliseconds, the usual delay between lightning and thunder rendered moot by its proximity. The lightning reached out toward the ground and up to the sky, scratching gnarled fingers of light across the heavens and burning a patch of ground black at the same time. Loki's heart rate doubled as the sound met his ears, eyes widening and his lips pulling back into a panicked grimace.
Whirling about, his cape flowing across his back like a silken river, he jerked his head up. Spots burst across his field of vision as another round of lightning burst forth. Loki answered with a blast of magical bolts from his horn, directing them to the offending cloud in a rapid-fire volley that tore neat holes through its puffy body.
“Hey, hey, hey!” A feminine voice met him, followed swiftly by its owner appearing atop the cloud. Technicolor mane blackened and steaming, Rainbow Dash glared down at her friend and benefactor. “Can't you take a joke, Mr. Grumpy?” She reached up to try and beat the black out of her mane, succeeding only in further ruining whatever style it had left.
“Rainbow Dash.” Loki stared up at the pegasus, his entire body moving with the force of his labored breathing. He realized he was almost shaking with panic, a cold sweat rolling across his brow. Snapping his eyes shut, he forced his limbs to quiet their impending tremors, straightening himself up. When he opened his eyes again, his world was filled with pink, dominated by a pair of blue orbs.
“I told you, Dashie,” Pinkie Pie said, leaning back from her extreme close-up with Loki. “He needed a joke, all right! Just look at him, wound up tighter than the spring in a jack-in-the-box!” Illustrating her point, Pinkie Pie hopped back onto her poofy tail and launched herself up into the sky, giggling all the way.
“I did not know you two were going to be in town,” Loki spoke, repressing the urge to strangle one or both of them. Pinkie squealed her way back down to earth, landing on her hooves without so much as a scratch.
“There's a big, awesome, super-duper candy shop opening on the Canterlot Square! Dashie and I never miss a chance to pig out on a big bowl of sweets!” Pinkie Pie licked her lips for emphasis.
Rainbow Dash landed next to Loki, laying a forelimb around his shoulders and pulling him into an embrace. “And we thought it would be fun to pull a little prank on our new best friend in Canterlot. We totally got you, too! You should've seen the look on your face!” Rainbow laughed heartily, Pinkie giggling along with her.
“Hilarious,” Loki deadpanned before sliding out from under Rainbow Dash's hoof. “However, as much as I would like to talk with you two, my time is short. I must fetch lunch and then get back to work.”
Pinkie frowned, furrowing her brows together. “Awww! But we just got here, Loki!”
“Yeah,” Dash agreed, stepping in front of Loki before he could slip away. “C'mon, you can prank someone, too. It's only fair.”
“Oo! Oo!” Pinkie raised her hoof, grinning. “Do me, Loki! I love a good prank!”
Loki sighed, shaking his head. “No, no, no. That would not work at all. You would be expecting it. No, a good prank...” Slamming his eyes shut, he jerked his head from side to side. “That is beside the point. Girls, I am on my lunch break. It's a tight schedule as it is.” Gauging the defeated looks on their faces, Loki decided it was now or never. Nodding respectfully, he made to leave.
“It's all right, Pinkie,” Dash said as Loki walked away. “We can find something else to do. I bet he's terrible at pranking, anyway.”
Loki stopped in mid-stride, his ears perking up. “What did you say?”
“You heard me,” Dash challenged, grinning ear-to-ear as Loki looked back at her. “All that stuff about a 'tight schedule'? You're covering cuz you can't top our prank!”
Loki narrowed his eyes. “This is a childish attempt to goad me.” The moment held, air stretching out between the three ponies, until Loki smirked. “And it is working.”
Rainbow Dash's reddish eyes grew wide for a second before she returned the smirk. “Of course it did! Nobody can resist a good prank.” She trotted forward, moving to walk right past Loki. “C'mon, Pinkie. I know the perfect guy we can – ”
Loki stuck out his forelimb, halting Dash's progress. “Let us get this straight, Rainbow Dash.” A twinkle of mischief danced in Loki's magenta eyes, a smile he hadn't worn in what felt like centuries painting across his features. “If we are going to 'prank' somepony, we are going to do it my way.”
“Sounds like somepony's already got another pony in mind, Dashie!” Pinkie Pie grinned, leaning in from behind her best friend to grin at Loki. “That's it, huh? Huh, huh, huh?”
“One pony?” Loki's smile turned into a grin, sending a flutter of unease traveling through Rainbow's stomach. Turning his back on the brightly-colored mares, Loki walked into Canterlot's winding streets. That grin only grew wider. “Ladies, you think far too small.”
-----------------------------
“This soup is cold!” Jet Set pushed the offending bowl back with his hoof, the tepid liquid splashing out to smack across the face of his unfortunate waiter. “Make it again, and do try to do it properly this time!”
“Yes sir, Mr. Set. Right away, Mr. Set.” The waiter nodded, swiftly levitating the dish away and fleeing back to the safety of the kitchen. Jet Set huffed indignantly, rearranging himself on his posh sitting pillow.
The outdoor bistro was a few blocks uptown from Loki's breakfast hangout, and as such it attracted a far more cosmopolitan, trendy crowd. Save for Jet Set and his wife Upper Crust, the ponies dining on the well-made patio furniture were the model of polite dignity and quiet grace. With their overly-expensive, attention-calling clothing, the married pair stood out like a sore thumb amongst Canterlot's elite.
Loki, Rainbow Dash, and Pinkie Pie stood in an alley mere yards from the bistro, Loki watching with a calculating look in his eye.
“Those two,” he murmured conspiratorially, turning to his comrades-in-arms. “They shall be the subject of my prank today.”
“Aww, yeah.” Rainbow Dash grinned, rubbing her forehooves together with glee. “I've always wanted to take those two down a notch. Can you believe they had the nerve to imply me and Pinkie and the others weren't good enough to be seen with Rarity?”
“They are a couple of stupidheads,” Pinkie agreed, sticking her tongue out with derision. Her blue eyes widened with interest, the pink pony practically prancing with anticipation. “Oo, oo, are you gonna put itching powder down their backs? Oo! Or maybe – ”
“Or maybe Pinkie Pie can be quiet before we all get pinched?” Rainbow Dash hissed at her friend, wings spreading threateningly. Pinkie blushed and grinned, reaching up to zip up her mouth with a quick motion. Loki didn't bother asking how or why at this point.
Reaching up, Loki carefully removed his helmet and set it aside. His armor and cape glowed a soft, golden tone before slipping off his body, back to its own pocket dimension. Setting his haunches down, he shrugged off his saddlebags, pushing them back with a hind hoof. Now as nude as every other pony, Loki shook his head to loosen up his slick, black mane, his tail bushing up with the motion.
“There. Wish me luck, girls.” Loki trotted out of the alley without waiting for their sentiments, marching across the cobblestone street as if he owned it. Keeping his eyes straight ahead, making sure not to look his targets in the eye, he took up a seat to their direct north, his back to the pair. Without his signature clothing, neither of the high-toned and fancy ponies distinguished him from the crowd.
Raising a menu up to cover his face, he winked at the slick pages of the thin parchment. A thin sheet of ice appeared on either corner of the menu, flattening to a mirror shine and giving him a perfect rear-view of his unsuspecting prankees. The pair sipped their tea, their noses turned up as the waiter returned with a fresh bowl of soup. It steamed in the midday air, a few bubbles forming at the edges.
“Terribly sorry about that, sir and madam.” The waiter bowed to them, gulping softly as he levitated a pot forth, refilling their tea glasses and bowing again. “Will there be anything else?”
“Yes,” Upper Crust sniffed, lowering her nose slightly to glower at the servant. “You will tell your manager that because of this oversight, we shall be taking our meal for free today.”
“F-for free?” The waiter's face was almost comical in its shock, his eyes moving back and forth between the two.
“Goodness gracious,” Jet Set groaned, rolling his eyes dramatically. “Jet, darling, it's no wonder he's working such a menial position; he has sawdust for brains.” Self-satisfied snorts followed his little insult. The fur on Loki's middle back bristled.
“Yes, of course for free, you dolt.” Upper Crust glared down at the waiter, raising a perfectly-shaped eyebrow. “Unless you'd like me to tell some very important friends about the lackluster service at this establishment.”
“Yes, of course. For free.” The stallion's face was a poor excuse for neutral, looking as if he was two seconds away from doing something that might get him fired. “I'll inform management. Excuse me.” Turning on his hind hooves, he marched away, fuming silently.
“What is this world coming to?” Jet Set lifted his spoon, blowing on the piping hot liquid before prissily slurping it down. His eyes widened and he turned his head, spewing the soup back out in an undignified spray.
“Waiter! The bloody soup is cold! Again!” Jet looked at his soup bowl, the once bubbling liquid absolutely still, a thin crust of ice caked over its surface. His wife grunted at him, making him tsk in disgust. “We use our words, darling, not – darling!”
Upper Crust grunted again, her voice filled with panic. The tea was frozen in a solid chunk around the tip of her tongue, the pink muscle hanging from the side of her muzzle. She reached up and tried to pull the offending cup off, whimpering as her tongue pulled with it.
“Now now, dear. Let me try.” Jet's voice cracked as he fought to remain calm, his wife's teacup glowing with his magic. He pulled it up and gave it a tug, pulling a painful squeal from Upper Crust. Shrinking away from her glare, he tried again, getting another shriek from her as a reward. His cheeks burned as he realized that the entire bistro had gone silent, every eye in the fashionable restaurant turned onto the scene they were making.
“Let me see if I can do it manually. I – ” Jet went to get up, only to find that his hindquarters refused to budge. Looking down, he gasped. His rump was flash-frozen against a solid block of ice that used to be his expensive sitting pillow. He grunted and tried to rise up again, tears forming at the edges of his eyes.
Upper Crust whined and pulled on her teacup, her tongue swelling up at its constant abuse and only further impeding her progress. With a final painful pull, the teacup and its frozen contents flew off, separating in mid-air. The teacup shattered against the brick edifice of a building across the road, while the frozen cup-shaped tea landed in the beehive mane of another restaurant patron. A lark landed on her mane, pecking at the frozen treat and causing the poor mare to scream in fright.
Rip! The sound of a great piece of cloth drowned out the poor, scared mare as Jet Set finally pulled himself free of his frozen seat. He burned bright with embarrassment, the entire crowd's voice rising with laughter at the sight of his hairless rump, his fur imbedded in his seat's icy structure.
“Thtop it! Thtop tthhhat laffing!” Upper Crust's swollen tongue flopped about outside her muzzle, landing her with a lisp and only serving to increase the crowd's peals of laughter. Her eyes burning with anger, she whipped about, turning her gaze on the waiter. He was laughing as well, tears flowing down his cheeks.
“You little twit! I'll have your job!” Upper screeched. The waiter gasped and recoiled, and she grinned. Whatever happened, she still had her close, important friends, and that was what mattered. When she looked at her husband, her grin faltered. He stared back at her with a look of horror and revulsion. Fanning her eyes around the crowd, she saw that every other pony shared his look.
“What?” She asked lamely, only to draw back as her vision was filled with something blurry, green, and undulating. The strange vision hissed at her, and with mounting anxiety Upper Crust realized that it was a snake. Not just a snake, but a snake on top of her head! Looking up, she caught sight of what was now her mane – a large, moving mass of hissing, fanged snakes.
Panic seized her heart and she shrieked, turning from the restaurant and running pellmell through the street. Jet Set followed, calling his wife's name, leaving the guffawing crowd behind him. Within seconds, they turned a corner and vanished, Jet Set's pink, bare behind the last thing the bistro patrons saw.
Loki smirked, setting his menu down and watching them go. His horn stopped glowing, the evidence of his crimes melting away as fast as he'd been able to conjure them. Within moments, no trace of his little prank would remain. Raising a hoof, he called the waiter over.
“Yes sir,” the waiter said, wiping tears from his eyes. He held up his notepad, giving Loki a large smile. “What can I get you today?”
“A round of tea for three, my good stallion.”
“Tea for three. When will the rest of your party be arriving, do you think?”
Loki looked over his shoulder, spying Rainbow and Pinkie in the alleyway. They were stacked one atop the other, heaving with laughter, tears flowing down their cheeks.
“I would give it about fifteen minutes, I think.” Loki grinned wide, chuckling.
-----------------------------
“Whew, I'm stuffed.” Pinkie Pie pressed a hoof to her stomach, cheeks growing large as she burped. Blushing, she covered her mouth and squeaked out an apology.
“Me, too. Thanks for lunch, Loki.” Rainbow Dash grinned as the three of them walked out of the hustle and bustle of the Canterlot crowd, their hooves smushing down the soft green grass surrounding the archives.
Loki smiled, nodding graciously to his two friends. “Not at all. Thank you for your surprising arrival.” Stopping in front of the tall, strong double doors, Loki turned to face the two ponies. He once again wore his helmet and armor, the golden sheen of his curves horns glinting in the midday sun. “I must say, I have not had this much fun in...quite a while.” His smile faltered, eyes glazing over.
“Loki?” Pinkie Pie tilted her head, curled mane bouncing with her movements. “You all right? You look kinda sad there.”
Recovering his composure, Loki shook his head. “Quite all right, Pinkie Pie. I was just reminiscing.” Looking at Rainbow Dash, he inclined his head. “I owe you an apology, Rainbow Dash. I am sorry I shot at you before. I thought you were someone else.”
Dash laughed, waving her hoof. “Nah, it's cool. It was worth it to prank a good friend.” She looked up at the archives, motioning behind her. “Sure you can't take the day off, Loki? That candy story is totally awesome.”
“Yeah, they've got a spool of licorice this big!” Pinkie Pie reared back on her hind limbs, stretching her hooves out as wide as they would go.
Loki's smile turned indulgent as he shook his head. “I am afraid not. The university students depend on my archives to help them pass their exams.” Hovering a few bits from his saddlebags, he tossed them into Pinkie Pie's mane. “But you can eat my share if you wish.”
Pinkie Pie grinned ear-to-ear and brought her strange friend into a big, strong hug. “Okie dokie, Loki!” She squeaked happily, pulling back and hopping away. “Come on, Dashie! We've got so much candy to eat!”
“All right, Pinkie!” Dash called to the pink pony. Regarding Loki, she reached up and pressed a hoof to one of his horns. “You know, you oughta go without this more often. You look good without it.”
Loki scrunched up his face, looking up at his helmet. “I am an Asgardian. I cannot abandon my traditional dress.”
“No, you're an Equestrian.” Rainbow Dash smiled, holding out her hoof for a hoofbump. “You're one of us now, Loki.”
Loki stared at the offered hoof, flitting his eyes between it and Rainbow's face. Slowly, he held out his own, touching it to hers as his helmet began to glow. Slowly it faded away, followed by his armor and cape. Left only with his saddlebags, he looked back at himself.
“I look good like this, then?” He asked, a stray lock of mane falling into his face.
“Yeah, totally.” Rainbow Dash grinned, oblivious to the rose tint on her cheeks. An awkward pause fell over the two of them until Rainbow withdrew her hoof, perhaps a little too rapidly.
“Anyway, I gotta get goin'. Someone's gotta keep an eye on Pinkie, y'know. Later!” She spread her wings and slammed then downward, pushing herself off and fleeing toward Canterlot, that rose tint growing deeper on her cheeks.
Loki tilted his head to the side, watching her leave. His smile broadened as he chuckled throatily, turning away to open his archives once again.
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The night sky twinkled with hundreds of thousands of stars, casting their faint glow down through the domed skylight of Loki's private quarters. Candles guttered in their wall-mounts, filling the small, circular room with a warm, flickering light. Seating behind his reading desk, Loki silently pored over a spellbook by Starswirl the Bearded, one of many of its kinds found at the Canterlot Library.
Set on a small pile of books next to his desk, a small record player turned its current disc at a slow, lazy pace. The sounds of a gentle piano tumbled forth out of the player's large, conical loudspeaker, filling the small room with its scratchy, warm sound. Every minute or so, the old paper crinkled as Loki turned it.
A small tap on his bedside window drew Loki's attention away from his reading. He looked at the window, eyes narrowing slowly. A few seconds passed, Loki's ears standing straight up. Shrugging his shoulders imperceptibly, he turned back to his book. As soon as his eyes left the window, another tap, louder this time, filled the room.
Loki sighed, closing his book and setting it down. Rising, he trotted over to his bedside window, looking out into the moonlit night. A tall tree waved its leaves in front of the window, the blurred lights of the palace dancing in the distance. As he watched, the windows rattled, banging back and forth against their locks.
Finally the locks shot upward and the windows burst open, letting in a flowing, curling fog of anti-light. The smoke quickly bellowed over Loki's bed, flitting around him and swirling in a circle through his room's tall, domed ceiling.
“Hello, Luna,” Loki said, closing the window once again and locking it with his magic. He looked up at the formless mass above him, raising an eyebrow. “You know, using the same entrance more than once tends to cheapen the value of its first use.”
“Oh, you are no fun at all,” Luna responded, her voice deep and resonant. The black fog slammed down into the wooden floor, curling in on itself to form Luna's shape. Opening her eyes, Luna smiled at her host. Spreading her wings, she cleared the last bit of her magical smoke, stepping forward as her own self, tucking her wings back against her side.
“Then I do wonder what it is that brings you back here every night.” Loki smirked, looking at the chess board in the corner. With great care, he levitated it closer, drawing a pile of books under it at the center of the room. Sitting down behind his black army, he offered her a place across from him.
“Your enigmatic personality, of course.” Luna retorted, seating herself and taking a look at the board. Her horn glowed, and she twisted it around, putting the black army at her front. “Also, that was a nice attempt.” Her smile turned into a grin as she moved one of her knights, picking up right where they had left off.
Loki shrugged, his smile self-effacing. “It was worth a shot.” He picked up his rook, shuffling it several spaces forward.
Luna looked her opponent over, tilting her head to the side. “You aren't wearing your armor,” she said, her tone both a statement and a question.
Loki reached up to brush that same errant lock of mane out of his face. “I have been here for nearly a full month now.” He took one of Luna's pawns as she offered it up for sacrifice, leaning back on his haunches. “Rainbow Dash said, and I believe I am beginning to agree: I am an Equestrian. Since Equestrians do not normally wear clothing, I figured it only proper that I do not, as well.”
Luna's smile grew. Her horn glowed, but rather than a chess piece, she floated over the pair of wineglasses and the dwindling bottle of fine Equestrian wine. “This calls for a toast.”
“I do not see why,” Loki said, genuinely perplexed. “I simply took off my helmet and my armor.”
“You are beginning to accept your new life here, Loki.” Luna popped the cork from its shaft, pouring a small measure of the thick, blood-red liquid into each glass. “I think – I hope – that our world might become more to you than a simple sanctuary.” She raised her glass, light blue eyes shining.
Loki took his glass, gazing at the liquid contemplatively. Long seconds passed over the chessboard as he digested her words.
“A home,” he said finally, looking up at her. “That is what you mean, is it not?”
Luna shrugged. “Something like that, I suppose. So let us toast to that: to a new home!” She raised her glass, smiling in her intense, gregarious manner.
“To a new home,” Loki responded, his voice reserved and unsure by comparison. He gently struck his glass against her own, tipping it back to let the warm alcohol flow down his throat. Despite its best efforts, the inebriating nature of the wine did little to calm the twisting knots in his stomach.
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For several days afterward, Loki's life in Equestria continued in much the same fashion as it had before. He awoke at dawn to serve the public throughout the day. Relaxing to read in the evening, his nights were consumed by playing chess with Luna. And, as before, the contents of the Restricted section remained closed off to him, as no pony came with the special seal that would grant access.
Until one day...
-----------------------------
“Wait! Wait!” The bedraggled earth pony charged across the lawn of the archives, rushing as fast as he could to reach the double doors before they closed. The sky was stained a dark orange from the setting sun, birds calling in the trees dotting the green field.
“I am sorry,” Loki said, looking at the young stallion with what he hoped looked like genuine regret. “We are closed for today. Please come see us tomorrow morning at 8 AM.”
“This can't wait,” the stallion responded, panting heavily as he stuck his hoof between the doors. “I'm the new sous chef in the Royal Palace. The master chef just handed this to me and told me to retrieve it A.S.A.P.” Leaning his head back, he gripped the small paper extruding from his saddlebags, leaning out for Loki to take it.
Loki sighed, taking the paper. “Very well. However, I am afraid that I shall only have it by the morning, as we are still scheduled to close.”
“As soon as you can, sir.” The stallion's breathing slowed, and he reached up to wipe a bit of sweat from his brow. “We need it for the Founder's Day celebration next week.”
Looking down at the request slip, he scanned his eyes over the contents. Finished, he did it a second time. After the second time, he did it a third time, just to be certain.
“Sir?” The sous chef raised an eyebrow, tilting his head as Loki began to laugh.
“Well, I'll be damned...” Loki said, shaking his head slowly, his voice edged with that disbelieving laughter. The request spoke of a book containing the Princesses' favorite recipes.
A bright red seal, still glossy, had been put in the box marked Restricted Section Special Permission.