> Order of Shadows
>  by PaulAsaran
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Book I — Fine Crime: The Face of Evil
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------




This is the forty-eighth Book of Shadows. I sometimes find that hard to believe, yet I have seen the previous forty-seven books, each written by a Mane Archon as a chronicle of his time in power.

“In power.” That’s actually part of the obligatory first line of these books. It’s been a joke from the beginning, undoubtedly an intentional one. When Celestia reads this – if she reads this – I wonder how she’ll feel about me pointing it out? It won’t matter, because by that time I’ll be dead. Just like every Mane Archon before me, from Hoofknife to Mane Archon himself.

This book ends with my death. I never thought of that before.

There’s so much to do that I tend not to consider how much time I could have left. Maybe, with recent events, I should start doing exactly that. I ignored this book before in defiance of Celestia, but now I think I’ll make use of it. After all, if things work the way I pray it will then there is no need to keep these events secret. If they don’t… well, Celestia, allow me to offer you congratulations for another perfectly executed scheme. Truly you are a master.

Assuming you win, of course. Maybe you won’t. It’s possible that I, out of so many who came before me, will finally achieve that great goal and put an end to you. If that is what happens, then I have this to say to you, Celestia:

Do not grieve for me. I died doing exactly what I wanted, and it will make me happier than you can even conceive. Knowing that I got to be the best of your monsters will only make me proud.

For that is what I am.

Your little monster.

—Verity Fine Crime, The Book of Shadows XLVIII
May 10, C.Y. 1007












May 17, C.Y. 989
Last Day of the Crystal Rebellion


Streamers flew through the air, mixing with cheers that seemed endless. Fine Crime peered out of the alley at the busy streets of the Crystal City, where ponies of every make and size celebrated. Crystal ponies danced with pegasi, earth ponies laughed alongside unicorns and griffons strutted the grounds with pride. In the entire city, not a single dour face could be found.

Except for Fine’s. He scowled at the scene, knowing it for the pointlessness that it was.

Yet Fine didn’t blame any of them for their revelry. After all, surviving five days of siege from the main army of Celestia and ultimately driving back those forces after seventeen long months of warfare was certainly something for the history books. The great Equestrian war machine just found out that even it was not invincible, and the ponies and griffons responsible had every right to gloat over the hard-won triumph. The Governess Cadance and her consort, Shining Armor, had to be profoundly proud.

Just as they should be.

Just as Celestia wanted them to be.

Fine thought he might throw up, so he backed further into the alleyway and waited for his stomach to calm down. He tried not to think of his orders, but that only made him feel worse. Still, he managed to force his distaste back to a mild unpleasantness. That done, he left the safety of the alleyway and marched for the Crystal Castle.

Eyes on the ground, he devoted himself to not looking at the revelers all around him. His anxiety hit him with near-crippling strength, but he kept going; there was no easy way to hide from this crowd. Even if there was, Fine would do no such thing. He didn’t feel that he deserved the comfort.

He glanced towards the sun, which hung high over the city like an ominous eye. Perhaps it wasn’t that off of an analogy. Was Celestia watching him even now, taking delight in the mirth of all these foals and knowing that her tool of vengeance was on the way? A preposterous idea, but Fine still felt as though the warmth of the sun was her iron hoof waiting to break his back. How fortunate that this was his specialty.

“Vy so glum, chum?”

A claw slapped Fine on the shoulder, making him stumble. Hackles rising at this infringement of his personal space, Fine glaring at the orange-feathered griffon. The beast wore a battered breastplate of iron, but if his armor was dented his smile certainly wasn’t.

“Go away.” Fine resumed his walk, but as he cast his eyes forward he was met with a throng of faces. Ponies laughing, singing, joking. Merriment.

He saw blood.

Fine knew better than to fight the vision. He let it wash over him, focusing on keeping control of his mind.

The griffon’s thick Grypha accent echoed in his ears as if coming through a wall of cotton. “Hey, you okay?”

The first thing he did was slam a hoof in the griffon’s smiling face. The impact was so hard his beak broke. Those claws were sharp; Fine conjured up an aural sword and sliced one off, catching it in his magic and grinning as the blood spurted on him. An instant later, the talons pierced the griffon’s eyes.

As the griffon fell, Fine turned his eager gaze upon the crowd. They didn’t even notice the commotion. That was okay; he’d make them notice! He grabbed the nearest pony, a bright pink pegasus mare, and pulled her head low in a chokehold. She squirmed in his grasp, trying to shout but unable to get air through her throat. The way she kicked and gasped brought a pleasant tingling between Fine's hind legs.

Her wings flapped wildly, but he used magic to grab on to them and force them down. She resisted, pulled and tugging at his hold, and he giggled at the sensation. Her moves began to slow. Soon he’d be able to let go and really go to work on her—

He blinked, the momentary high fading from his mind. The blood-red shade of the world lifted, and everything was normal again. The pink pony disappeared in the crowd, blissfully unaware that she had been so close to her potential murderer.

“Are you okay?”

The pain hit, a migraine that surged from a spot just above Fine’s eyes and soon encompassed his entire skull. He staggered, rubbing his head with both hooves and nearly collapsing.

“Hey, vhat is vrong?”

Fine shot the griffon – alive and unharmed – a look filled with enough venom to make the blasted creature step back. “I’m fine, now leave me alone!” He stomped off, cringing at the pain as the griffon muttered something about unappreciative refugees.

The pain faded slowly, but Fine would take no chances; he kept his eyes firmly on his own hooves, looking up only when he needed to be sure of his bearings. It had only been three weeks since his last kill, but he had no intention of testing his resistance to the visions again. Celestia would have his head if he went on a spree and ruined her perfect little scheme.

He plodded through the exuberant citizens, soldiers and refugees. He was almost desperate to find some inconspicuous side route where he could avoid these crowds, but on a day like today there were none to be found. Ponies shuffled into him apologetically, merrymakers tried to shove beer into his hooves, foals danced about his path. His ear flicked as he heard a griffon and a pony arguing over which had killed more Equestrian soldiers in the final fight. One young crystal mare bumped into Fine and, upon turning to apologize, promptly gave him a lick on the cheek. Her breath reeked of alcohol.

Too close. They were all too close. Fine’s knees wobbled as he pushed the mare away, ignoring her pout. His breath was catching; he needed air. He hurried, pushing his way through the throng and ignoring the laughter that taunted his ears. He found an opening in an alleyway and dashed in. There were still ponies here – including a couple of mares who were exploring a more sensual method of celebration – but it was quiet and empty enough that Fine was able to collapse against the wall and suck in some air.

Foals. That’s what kept going through Fine’s mind; they were all foals. Blissfully unaware of what was coming. He almost wished he could join them in that ignorance.

Another vision hit when he at last looked up. This one was shorter, but more brutal and bloody. He was busy smashing the blue one’s head against the crystal wall for the dozenth time when he came out of it and the migraine struck again. His entire body ran cold and his vision went white waiting for it to fade. Not until his legs stopped shaking did he retreat back into the crowds, eager to get away from those two mares and their lecherous behavior.

No more visions hit him, but the looming threat of them combined with the closeness of so many ponies made it impossible for Fine to relax. When he finally stumbled his way to the castle, he was distressed to find that the party extended to within its great walls. The tall crystal doors had been thrown wide amidst the celebrations and none bothered to block his access. Struggling to make his way through the laughter and the cheers, Fine at last squeezed into a stairwell and found, to his intense relief, that this was where the revelry ended.

He fled into the first doorway he saw and collapsed on the hard crystal floor, entire body trembling. His breath came in heaving gasps and he clutched at the knife that usually hung about his throat. When he touched nothing he began to panic, but reminded himself that he’d left it behind on purpose. Cursing and shivering, he pulled out the ring. He clutched it in his hooves, reminding himself of his mission and purpose for being here. He had a mission to do.

“Get it together, Verity,” he whispered through his shaky breathing. “You’re past the h-hard part.”

He studied the ring, as black as night and startlingly heavy for its size. There was nothing special about it in terms of appearance; just polished black stone. Tartarus Stone, it was called. Its reputation was the stuff of legends, and now it would serve his ill purpose.

Ill being the appropriate word; he had to pause to control his insides. Fine had done no small number of vile things in his time, but this job affected him more than any in recent memory. It wasn’t the crowds he’d just waded through that most unnerved him, though, even if being in them meant more of the horrid visions.

No time to think. Celestia waited only for him, and woe be unto him if he took too long. His anxiety finally fading to something manageable, Fine stepped out of the room and cast his eyes upon his surroundings. After a few seconds he’d gathered his position and began walking for the nearest staircase.









The higher levels of the castle were empty to the point of eeriness. Fine’s hoofsteps echoed through the halls as he went from floor to empty floor. The crystal walls blocked out all the noise going on below. Fine didn’t mind; it made his job easier. Had there been time, he might have paused to enjoy the quiet and the crystalline structure. After all, he didn’t get to come to the Crystal Castle very often.

At last he reached the floor he sought. Hoofsteps filled the air, and they weren’t his. Fine considered hiding, but shrugged off the thought and marched into the halfway. Ahead of him were a pair of crystal guards, both red in the face and snickering at one another. They approached at a leisurely pace, one waving a wine bag and laughing raucously. It took Fine's analytical mind only a few seconds to know enough for a proper course of action.

“Excuse me, gentlecolts.”

They turned to him as one, the guard with the wine stumbling before coming to a stop. “Ehh? Who’re you?”

Fine grinned and eyed the wine bag as though it were a priceless treasure. “What’s that ya got there?”

The guard raised the bag high, lips spread in a grin. “Spoils of war!”

“Bull,” the other said with a chuckle, “ya snuck it from the kitchens.”

“Buck you.”

“No thanks.” The sober one turned to Fine with a smirk. “Don’t mind him, he’s an idiot. You lost?”

“You could say that.” Fine sat and rubbed his hooves together with a saucy smile. “I’m looking for a filly. She led me this way and now she’s playing hide and seek. Said something about the royal quarters.”

The red-faced guard burst into a laugh. “Chasing tail, just like Shining!”

He was rewarded with a slap on the back of the head from his partner. “Don’t talk about the Commander that way! He earned what he’s getting after he went all the way to Grypha for reinforcements.”

“What a stallion will do for a piece of tail, eh?” The drunk took a swig from the bag before pointing to Fine. “Just like you, my friend! Go on, chase that flank as far as it’ll lead ya! Royal quarters are thattaway.” He indicated behind him and nearly hit the floor with his face.

His partner grumbled and helped him up. “You don’t want to go there, buddy. The Lady Cadance – soon to be Princess Cadance, I wager – is busy rewarding her husband for a job well done.”

“I’ll just have to be discreet then, won’t I?” Fine walked past them with a wicked smile. “This one’s not getting away.”

“You go, boy!” The drunk guard stumbled sideways as he waved, wine sloshing onto the floor. “Go tap that flank for all it’s worth!”

“Come on, ya knucklehead, before you do something we’ll both regret.”

As soon as the two guards were out of sight, Fine’s smile faded to a scowl. He had direction and he had confirmation. Now he only wondered if the two of those guards would be alive within the next hour. Not that he couldn’t do anything about it.

He soon came upon a long outer hallway, from which large windows showed the Crystal City. Fine walked slowly, adjusting his steps to a rolling motion to deaden the sound. He looked outside as he passed a window; the celebration in the streets continued on. So many ponies and griffons, blissfully unaware of what was coming. He didn’t envy a single one of them. He glanced up at the sun and had the distinct feeling that Celestia was watching his every step. Another ridiculous sentiment, but it was there all the same.

His ears perked to a new sound, one largely unfamiliar to him; the Lady Cadance was shouting.

It certainly didn’t sound like she was in pain.

Steeling himself, Fine hastened to a large set of double doors from whence the sound came. He paused and lit up his horn, focusing the magic on the hinges as he listened to the ponies on the other side go quiet. He had an opportunity at hoof – one Celestia was sure to take pleasure in – and he had no intention of missing it. Certain the hinges had been quieted, he pushed the door open just a crack and peered inside.

The room could only be the Governess Cadance’s personal chambers. Fine ignored the lush décor and focused his sight on the canopy bed on the opposite side of the room. There they were: the Lady Cadance and her husband, Commander Shining Armor. It seemed they were celebrating their victory over Celestia’s armies in their own, ‘special’ way.

Fine felt no embarrassment at the sight of them. He watched for a moment, noting how the Lady’s moans were coming in rhythm with her husband’s thrusts. Their backs were to him, and so neither noticed as he slipped inside and closed the door. He paused to cast a simple spell on the floor at the doorway, just as a precaution.

Certain he would go unnoticed, Fine glanced around the room until he spotted something appropriate: a large crystal vase. He tested it with his magic and it rose easily. He took out the ring and studied it, mentally preparing himself for what he had to do.

Shining Armor’s thrusts grew more fierce and Cadance’s pitch increased a notch. Fine stepped up to the foot of the bed. He didn’t want to act too soon; better to wait until that perfect moment. He spent the time watching them with a scowl and planning his moves and dreaded a potential vision. Ever patient, ever focused. The bed began to rock with the force of the thrusts.

Cadance let out a scream; Shining’s thrusts abruptly stopped as he moaned.

Fine pounced.

The ring came forward and landed snugly atop Shining Armor’s horn. He was so caught up in his climax that he didn’t even notice. The vase smashing against the side of his head was much harder to ignore. He fell sideways off the bed and hit the floor with a loud thud.

“Sh-Shining?” Cadance started to lift herself up, confusion and the weariness of sex in her voice. “What’s—”

A red, aural katana appeared in the air and aimed itself at the back of the pegasus’ neck; she froze on the spot. “Careful, My Lady,” Fine hissed in her ear. “You don’t want me to slip.”

Cadance gasped, her ears lying flat and her wings taught. Between breathless gasps, she spoke. “What did you… do to my… my husband?”

Fine leaned over the side of the bed to see Shining slowly climbing to his hooves. “Not enough.” The vase smacked the back of Shining’s head, sending him chin-first to the hard floor. “Stay down, Commander, or your wife will find a blade through her throat.”

“Who are you?” Cadance leaned back as if to test the blade, but dropped to her barrel again when the tip drew blood. “One of Celestia’s goons?”

“How perceptive of you.” Fine stepped back from the bed. “Get up. Slowly.”

Cadance did, her movements carefully coinciding with the weapon at her neck. “Why are you doing this? Don’t you know what we’ve done here? We won.”

“Of course you did.” Fine nodded to the nearby glass doors. “Go on, to the balcony.”

“Let me check on my husband.”

Fine pressed his blade against her coat. “No. Move.”

At last the Lady Cadance glanced back at him. There was no fear in her eyes, only determination. Fine liked those eyes. Too bad they wouldn’t amount to much. She turned her attention to Shining as she stepped off the bed and folded her wings. “Shining? Are you okay?” Her husband responded only with a low moan. She leaned towards him, eyeing his head. “What is that you put on him?”

“Tartarus Stone.” The vase rose over Shining’s head. “Move or I drop it.”

“You’re making a mistake,” she said as she approached the balcony doors. “Celestia’s armies are beaten. We are free, regardless of what you do to me.”

“Enjoy it while it lasts,” Fine replied, walking sideways so he could keep an eye on both ponies.

“Typical of Celestia’s goons.” Cadance’s voice was dripping with scorn. “Does it make you feel noble, attacking a couple while they are in their most private moment? Make you feel proud of yourself?”

“You’re assuming the Archons care about that kind of thing.”

“Archons?” Cadance’s voice wavered as she glanced back at him once more. “You mean you’re not from her army?”

There was the kind of reaction Fine had anticipated. He nodded to the doors. “Open them.”

Cadance hesitated, but did as she was told. “What do you intend, to kill me in front of all my followers? That won’t end the rebellion.”

Fine cast a glance Shining’s way. The unicorn remained on his barrel but was struggling to get some magic through the ring’s dampening effects. Even though it was a fruitless endeavor, Fine felt the need to be cautious; he lowered the vase until it was pressed against the back of Shining’s neck. “Cut it out or I snap it.”

The light from Shining’s horn faded. His eyes tried to look Fine’s way but had difficulty getting there. A concussion, most likely.

Light streamed through the room as the balcony doors opened. Cadance paused before the threshold. “Surely you must know that Celestia is evil.”

“I’m an Archon. Of course I know. Outside.”

They stepped into the glaring sun… or at least, glaring from Fine’s perspective. How he hated it. Even so, he sent his message, horn flashing rosewood like his eyes for a few quick sparks.

Cadance shot him a withering look. “You’re going to have to do more than that if you want to catch their attention.”

“It was enough.”

She studied him from the corner of her eye, still not moving lest his aural blade drive into her neck. “Why are you doing this?”

He kept his gaze on Shining Armor, who was by now glaring at him with such venom as to almost impress Fine. “Because it’s my job.”

“Well, aren’t we the prodigious employee?” Cadance fidgeted as he answered with silence. “Isn’t there any emotion in you?”

Fine finally looked at her. He considered the question for a time, thinking on how much he should say. Then he realized that what he said didn’t matter… so he told the truth.

“I have plenty of emotion,” he whispered, eyes going back and forth between his two captives. “Like how much I hate having to be here, or how I wish you had won by your own strength and not some convoluted scheme years in the making. I don’t like what I have to do, but it’s fallen on me to do it. That’s the way things are, and I don’t back down from a job once it’s been given to me.”

A small tingle of energy rose through his horn, signaling powerful magic at work. Fine glanced at Shining Armor, but if the stallion felt it he made no indication. “I’m afraid there’s no more time.”

“No more time?” Shining growled. “What do you intend to do, kill us?”

“That’s not for me to decide.” Fine glanced at the sun, which had grown brighter in the last few seconds. “Your fate will be decided by a higher power.”

From the look in Cadance’s eyes, he knew there was nothing more to be said. She gaped at the sun for a few seconds, blinking away tears as the light grew ever brighter.

“Oh G-Goddess… she’s coming here, isn’t she?”

Silence. This time it wasn’t just the silence of the bedroom; the crowds below had paused in their excitement to gaze upon the celestial body that now acted so strangely. Fine wondered what they all felt just then. Dread? Resentment? Understanding? Terror? All would be appropriate.

For his part, Fine could barely hide his fear.

From a clear blue sky, objects flashed into existence. They were like meteors, covered in flame and streaking towards the city. Dozens upon dozens of them, a veritable rain of fire. The first struck within seconds of forming, smashing into one of the great crystal structures and shattering it like glass. Cadance’s scream was matched by the shrieks of thousands. The masses below scrambled for cover that didn’t exist. Everywhere the fireballs landed, flaming ponies were sent flying through the sky, leaving only wide craters in their wake.

“Oh no, My Lady,” Fine hissed, pressing his blade to Cadance’s throat as she tried to open her wings. “You’re supposed to stay here, where it’s safe and you can watch.”

“You bastard!” Cadance’s entire body shook and tears streamed down her eyes. “H-how could you do this?”

A brilliant white flash caught their attention.

“When your orders come from her,” he said over her sobs, “you don’t say ‘no.’ ”

She appeared: Celestia herself, wings spread wide as she passed over some clouds with horn shining bright. Majestic, beautiful and terrifying; Fine had never met her, but he knew enough to know that the pounding of his heart and the catch in his breath had nothing to do with admiration.

A vast yellow beam flashed across the city below, and wherever it passed a deep gouge appeared in the earth. Buildings were rent in two, ponies disappeared in a flash of light and the screams only grew louder. A mass of pegasi launched all at once, aiming directly for the solar monarch. With a single beat of her wings, a transparent force blasted upon them; every single pegasus shrieked and fell, their wings shattered.

Abruptly, an explosion blew through the bedroom. Fine and Cadance turned as one to the sound, and as the smoke cleared they found the room a mess and a large black mark beneath the open doorway where Fine’s magical mine had gone off. Body parts littered the room and hallway.

“Shining!” Cadance tried to move forward, but Fine once again pressed his knife to her neck. “Shining, where are you?”

“I’m okay,” Shining called, his voice sounding weak. He began to drag himself out from under the bed, which now leaned upside down against a wall. “J-just winded.”

Fine saw an opportunity and sent a shot of magic at the bedframe. The frame promptly snapped and the whole thing collapsed atop Shining, pinning him in place. The commander gasped and squirmed, his horn flashing feebly against the ring still set on his head. He tried to push the ring off, but it refused to budge.

“Stop it!” Cadance shot Fine a pleading look. “Please, leave him alone. Just… just let us go and we’ll never bother Celestia again!”

“There’s nothing I would like more,” Fine admitted, turned back to the balcony. “Unfortunately, if I did I’d be taking your place for whatever punishment Celestia has in mind for you. For what it’s worth, I am sorry.”

“You bastard!” Cadance leaned towards him, her desperation replaced by a renewed fury. “This is not how it ends, do you hear me?”

Fine paid her no mind, his gaze dropping to the city below. He could actually see the waves of air rising from the streets; the ponies were shrieking from the heat that had gone from unbearable to outright painful. Yet no matter how bright the sun was, none of it affected the castle.

“Oh Goddess,” Cadance whispered, “what is she doing now?”

Fine looked up to see Celestia hovering high above the city, a bright yellow orb of energy growing from her horn. It grew bigger and bigger, a phenomenal thing the purpose of which Fine couldn’t imagine. Then it released and flew straight for the entrance of the castle far below. Though not sure what to expect, Fine braced for impact.

Flames erupted through the bottom of the castle. Fine and Cadance both bent over the railing and stared with wide eyes as fire blasted from floor after floor after floor of windows. With a curse, Fine jumped back and pressed against the outer wall of the balcony next to the door, and Cadance turned to hurry to her husband. A foalish endeavor; they’d never get out in time.

Yet the room never erupted in flames. Fine realized that it never would. Taking only a second to relax, he turned back to the room to find Cadance struggling to pull her husband from under the bed. When that proved fruitless, she reached for the ring on his head. Fine’s own magical aura pressed down on it, preventing her from the task.

She lay over her husband and looked upon Fine with pleading eyes once more. “Please, don’t do this! If Celestia catches us, she’ll—”

“She’ll what?”

The color fled Cadance’s face as her eyes bulged. She wrapped her hooves around Shining and trembled like a leaf, sobs bursting from her as she buried her head in her husband’s mane. Shining, still struggling for breath, could only gape past Fine.

Fine felt his heart skip a beat. Legs shaking, he slowly turned about to find Princess Celestia staring over him to Cadance. She was as big as he'd imagined, pearly with the tiniest hint of pink and the very definition of royal majesty. Before Fine appeared a goddess, beautiful and good.

Fine was not fooled. He dropped into a deep bow, horn touching the carpet, and fought to keep control of his breathing.

“Do tell me, Governess Cadenza,” Celestia went on in a polite, conversational tone, “just what will I do to you now that I finally have you?” When the governor of the Crystal Empire failed to respond, the princess tsked. “Come now, I’m curious. Just what horrible, twisted fate have you conjured up in your mind for yourself?”

“P-please, Princess,” Cadance at last managed to say, “sh-show mercy upon us.”

“Oh dear, you misunderstand the situation entirely.” Celestia sat and looked about the room, completely ignoring the ever prostrate Fine Crime. “This won’t do, not at all. When I gave orders for your capture, I had no intention of letting the place become such a mess in the process.”

Her horn shined and the room began cleaning and organizing itself; the massive vanity on the wall returned to its place, the dark stains from the explosion faded, the chandelier rose from the floor and re-attached to the ceiling. The bed rose into the air, flipped to its proper position and rested neatly against the wall.

Shining Armor sucked down a deep breath before standing on wobbling legs. Though he continued to gasp, he promptly pushed his wife behind him and stood glaring before Celestia. “You… you won’t get… to her without—”

“Yes, yes, I know.” Celestia waved a dismissive hoof. “Husband’s duty and all that. Fine, if that’s how you want it; hit me with your best shot, oh dashing hero.”

Shining hesitated, glancing back to Cadance as his legs buckled. She shook her head frantically, but when he turned back to Celestia his horn glowed… only to dim as soon as it started.

“Oh, right, inhibitor ring.” Celestia shrugged. “I wasn’t interested in your pitiful efforts anyway. I have far more important things to do with my time… like watch your darling little sister.”

Shining’s face gained an extra shade of white. “W-what did you say?”

Celestia nodded with a pleasant smile. “If my records are correct, little Twilight’s a mere four years old, yet she’s already proven herself to be a remarkable talent. Maybe in a couple of years I can test her and make her my protégé. Wouldn’t that be nice? The sister of a hated traitor, one of my most loyal pets?” The princess shivered with a delighted sound. “Goosebumps.”

“You will not touch her!” Shining charged, eyes brimming with hate and horn struggling to ignite against the Tartarus stone.

The response was quiet and simple; Celestia’s horn shimmered and Shining lifted into the air. He clutched at his throat and gagged as something squeezed so tightly it left an imprint in his coat. A moment later, he went flying across the room to slam against the wall. He hit the floor and didn’t get back up. Cadance screamed and ran for her husband, clutching and covering him with her wings.

“Hmm, now then, about your…” Celestia paused, her eyes going to Fine Crime as if she just noticed he was there. “You are the one who captured them.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” Fine still hadn’t risen from his bow.

“By yourself?”

Fine cocked his head at the uncertainty in her voice, but nodded against the carpet. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Not bad.” Celestia turned to face him properly. “What is your name, Archon?”

He shifted, not having expected such a question. “I was born Verity Fine. As an Archon I go by Fine Crime.”

“Do you now?” Celestia considered him with a  hoof to her chin and a pleasant smile. “I rather like that name. Your success will be remembered, Fine Crime. Now tell me—” she turned back to the ponies lying against the wall, “—what was the Governor and her colt toy doing when you captured them?”

Fine at last looked at her, his brow furrowed in uncertainty. “They were… having sex, Your Majesty.”

“How delightfully naughty!” Celestia grinned at the two trembling ponies. “I don’t blame them in the least; Cadance is a fine pegasus and Shining is a model of stallionhood. A-ha!” She clapped her hooves, a single hard snap, and turned back to Fine as if seeking his approval. “I know exactly what punishment I should offer them. I think they’ll even enjoy it. But first…”

Her horn glowed and something materialized in the air before her. It was a scroll, which hovered just over Fine’s muzzle. The sight of it left him chilled to the bones. “Do you know what this is?”

Fine finally sat up, albeit only because it was hard to talk back in such a position. He sucked in a deep breath, staring at the scroll as if it were a viper prepared to strike. “I think so.”

“Good. Take it, and don’t open it.”

Fine hesitated only a moment before taking the scroll in his magic. He kept it at a safe distance from himself.

“Now then, oh Cadenza…”

Cadance was engulfed in yellow as she was pulled forcibly from her husband. Shining tried to follow, but the same glow captured him, lifted him up and pinned his back to the wall. Cadance sobbed as she floated in the air, legs and wings spread wide as Celestia approached. “Please, have mercy. C-Celestia, I swear, we’ll disappear and never—”

“Be silent, you little whore.” Celestia pressed a hoof to Cadance’s chin, forcing her face to the left and right while inspecting her. “You dared to think you could stand up to me? Thought you’d look good with a crown on your head, did you? Fancy yourself a princess?” Celestia smirked. “So much planning went into this war. You played it out perfectly, as I knew you would. Making you Governess was one of my better ideas of the recent decade. Now everypony in Equestria has a boogeymare to scare their foals with for the next few decades.”

Cadance tried to escape Celestia’s hold on her chin, but couldn’t manage it. “Y-you’re lying. Nopony’s that good.”

“Your beliefs don’t matter. The point is: the public is distracted. I can continue about my business. And you? You’re going to rot in Tartarus with your husband for the rest of eternity. Oh,” she raised her hoof as if just remembering something important, “by the way, I’ve got Blueblood as well. He thought himself so clever, funneling funds directly from the monarchy to your cause. Turns out he’s not very good at covering his tracks. He’ll be joining you both very soon. Isn’t it amazing what stallions will do for a hot flank, you dirty little slut?”

“That is a lie!” Cadance renewed her struggles. “You wretched, evil witch! I did nothing like that!”

“No, you didn’t.” Celestia’s smirk returned. “But history will say otherwise.”

She turned her attention to Shining, who merely glared as she approached. “The strong, silent type, are we? Good, I never cared for pillow talk.” Celestia’s hoof rose to rub his crotch, prompting Shining’s cheeks to burn even as his glare intensified. “I think it’s time I got to see what all the fuss is about.”

“W-what are you doing? Leave him alone!”

“Get your dirty hooves off me,” Shining hissed.

Celestia didn’t relent. When she spoke, it was in a tone of absolute certainty and dominance. “I’m going to toy with you in front of your wife. I’m going to throw you onto that bed and have my way with you, and when I’m done I’ll repeat the process with her.” Her horn flashed, a small spark of pink energy striking Shining’s head and making him flinch.

His eyes abruptly bulged. “W-what did you do?”

“Feels nice, doesn’t it?” Celestia’s grin turned wicked. “It’s a gradual thing, this spell. I’ll have to hit you with it a few dozen times before the effects become lasting. I’m going to break your minds, Shining Armor, until you can think of nothing…” she leaned forward to nuzzle his chest, “…but pleasure.”

Fine Crime stared at the scene, a sick feeling in his gut. He glanced for the door, but didn’t dare leave, not until he’d been given permission.

“Celestia, stop!” Cadance squirmed against her invisible bonds. “P-please, don’t do this! I’ll do anything!”

Celestia’s ears perked and she turned back to Cadance. “Anything?” She approached the tear-streaked pegasus, regaining that smirk. “Beg. I want to hear your pleas for mercy. I want you to kiss my hooves and grovel.”

The aura faded and Cadance did exactly as she was told. Fine turned his face away, unwilling to watch the pegasus crawl on her belly and clutch at Celestia’s hooves. He tried to drown out her begging voice and the sobs that accompanied them. All he wanted was for this to be over.

“Enough.”

Cadance merely wept.

“Are you not enjoying the show?”

Fine blinked upon realizing the question was aimed at him. He turned to find Celestia watching him from over Cadance’s shivering form, one of her hooves pressed firmly on the governess’s back. He cursed himself for his weakness and hurried to think of a response that wouldn’t get him thrown into Tartarus. What came out was not what he intended:

“I’m disgusted.”

He winced and readied himself for the pain.

Instead, he was rewarded with a grin. “Really? How delightful. So you don’t approve of what I’m planning to do?”

Fine hesitated, but knew he’d already dug himself a hole. Perhaps it would be better to be honest. “No.”

Celestia considered him for several long seconds, her smile unnerving. At last she nodded, and Fine had the distinct impression she’d made a decision. The idea filled him with dread. “I can see why Hoofknife likes you so much.” Her attention turned to the shaky mass of pegasus under her hoof. “Are you a whore, Cadance?”

“W-what? No…” Cadance let out a whimper as Celestia’s hoof pressed down on her back. “Yes, P-Princess.”

“Good.” Celestia stepped back and fired another of her pink beams, this one hitting Cadance’s head and making the pony flinch. “You will raise your tail for the good stallion.”

Cadance shook her head frantically, her tail curling around her body. Shining shouted something, but his muzzle promptly clamped closed as a yellow aura wrapped around it.

“Raise your tail, Cadance.”

“Please, C-Celestia… don’t make me…”

“Raise your bucking tail!”

Whimpering, Cadance at last did as she was told, lifting her hindquarters and exposing her marehood to Fine. He swallowed as his stomach twisted at what was happening before him. Celestia was watching; he didn’t dare look away.

“Good. Stay just like that, you little whore. I am going to play with your husband for a while.” Celestia looked to Fine. “Rut her.”

Fine’s legs locked as he gaped at Celestia. It took everything he had not to vomit. “You… you want me to…”

“Enjoy it.” Celestia grinned and reached around to rub her hoof along Cadance’s opening. “Think of it as a reward for doing such a good job. Come now, don’t keep the governess waiting.”

“Y-your Majesty, I…” Fine clamped his jaw closed when Celestia’s gaze hardened. “A-as you c-command.”

Yet he didn’t move. He didn’t want to move. He could only stare at the wretchedness offered before him as a prize. The indignation left Fine with a horrid blend of disgust, anger and hatred. He tried to make his legs work, but all he could do was stare at the exposed marehood before him and listen to Cadance’s sobs.

“I know, you’re sickened.” Celestia smirked before turning for the struggling Shining Armor. “That’s the thing about fetishes: they always start off as something you hate. Hop to it, Archon; I expect you to have filled her up by the time I’m ready to play with her.”

Fine gritted his teeth. He sucked in slow breaths and tried to think of anything but the complete wrongness before him. If he didn’t do this, what would Celestia do to him in return? Given the horrors she had in store for her current victims…

Swearing that he would hate himself for all eternity, Fine finally forced himself to step forward.

He wondered if the sobs in his ears were actually the sound of his soul dying.
	
> Book I — Fine Crime: The Mane Archon
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------




Fine told me once how he used to be, the things he had to do to appease his “cursed heritage,” as he liked to call it. At first I found it hard to believe, but as time wore on and I got to know him a bit more, I realize now that his entire life was shaped by his mental disorder.

Bloodmane. The very name makes me shudder. If Celestia ever did anything right by Fine, it was naming him the Mane Archon. If she hadn’t, then it scares me to think of what Fine would be like today.

Yet there was no time when Fine scared me. On the contrary, he was always very good to me. Learning what he was once capable of, knowing what he was capable of on the day we met, I still can’t bring myself to disapprove. The fact that he wasn’t worse is nothing short of a miracle. I can’t imagine what I would be like if I were addicted to murder like that and constantly seeing the visions.

I remember holding him close that day. I promised that I would never be afraid of him.

It was the first time I saw him cry.

—Octavia P. Melody, Book of Shadows XLVIII
May 11, C.Y. 1007












August 26, C.Y. 989
Fillydelphia


Fine banged his hoof on the metal door, his eyes set on the handle just to have something to focus on. His lips were set in a scowl, his eyes hard, his breath coming in slow gasps. The agony was just starting to fade when the small window at eye level slid open with a clang. “Who is—”

Fine’s eyes jerked to the window, and the pony on the other side gulped. Locks and bolts came undone, and within a second or two the door opened. The pony kept behind the door as Fine stalked in, his tail swishing back and forth and his eyes set straight forward. “I need a volunteer.”

“A-alright.” The guard closed the door and fumbled with the locks and bolts, his hooves shaking. Fine tapped the black knife that dangled from his throat by a necklace, making it sway like a pendulum. His body remained rigid as it did. He began to grind his teeth.

“This way.” The guard hurried ahead of him at a swift trot with his tail tucked between his legs. Fine followed, eyes lowered to the bare stone floor. He passed the guard’s waiting room where two sturdy-looking mares peered at him from over their cards. When they saw who the visitor was, they promptly jerked their faces away.

They trotted past the door leading to the cells, past the access to the Phillydelphia slums and went to an adjacent door. The stallion hurried to unlock it and kept well out of Fine’s way as he entered. “I-I’ll bring one of the inmates over right away.”

“Make it two,” Fine said, his voice gravelly as he sat in a corner by the two-way mirror. “The visions are very strong tonight.”

The guard swallowed and nodded before closing the door, leaving Fine to his thoughts.

Time crawled by, gradual and frustrating. It clawed at his mind like a ravenous insect, and the more it chewed at his brain the more agitated he became. He examined himself in the mirror; his shirt was a wrinkled mess and his rosewood eyes were bloodshot. His mane, normally dyed black to aid in his stealth, had lost much of its color in the past week. He’d have to dye it soon to hide the bright red hairs; they didn’t make sneaking any easier. His mottled brown coat was in need of grooming as well. He hadn’t expected the journey to Fillydelphia to take so much out of him… but that’s what happens when one travels for a week when without a fix in four.

He cast a darkening spell, shrouding himself in black with the hope it would help to sooth his mind. The cool comfort of the dark eased him, but it couldn’t end the tension. He tapped his knife once more, his mind focusing on the rhythmic swaying. He thought on the ecstasy that he would get tonight… and the revulsion. Not for the first time, he considered the irony of a monster whose job it was to hunt down monsters.

Is that what Cadance and Shining Armor had been? Monsters?

They hadn’t seemed like it. He cringed and pressed himself tightly into the corner, trying to get their pleading screams out of his ears. Even after almost four months, he could still hear them. Worse was remembering their moans as they began to succumb to Celestia’s indecency. A cold shiver ran down his back; wasn’t sending them to Tartarus enough punishment on its own? And why the buck had she made him take part in it? He didn’t think he would ever have an erection again in his life. Probably a good thing; there didn’t need to be any little monsters running around Equestria thanks to his blasted seed.

“Leave me with him.”

Fine flinched; he’d not heard the door open. He stared at the darkness, body still and ears swiveling forward to catch any sound as the door closed once more. Whoever was in the room with him, he was reasonably sure it wasn’t one of the prisoners.

A chair scraped noisily on the floor, the sound sending more chills down Fine’s spine. Somepony sat. An unusually high-pitched voice met his ears.

“How long has it been since your last kill?”

Fine’s head sank low and his eyes grew hard. “Four weeks. Aren’t you supposed to be in Canterlot kissing Celestia’s hooves?”

“Drop the spell.”

“No.”

“Do it, Verity.”

Fine bristled. “It’s better this way. I won’t have a vision if I can’t see you.”

“You can go eight weeks without a kill.”

“And it hurts like you wouldn’t believe,” Fine grumbled, “so I’d rather not do it again. Get out of here, let me sate the appetite, then we talk.”

“You’ll get no victims tonight, Fine.”

With a snarl, Fine dropped the darkness spell. The black faded away like a fog, revealing the interrogation room once more. There, sitting at the opposite side of the table, was a middle-aged, light grey pegasus stallion. By some cruel twist of fate, he’d also been saddled with a hot pink mane. Ugliest color combination imaginable, at least in Fine’s mind.

He made no attempt to hide his disdain. “What do you want, Hoofknife?”

“A lot of things,” Hoofknife replied, rubbing the crescent-shaped scar on his right shoulder as if it itched. “Not that it matters. Here on business.”

Fine focused his eyes on the floor, more to avoid a vision than anything else. “Darn. And here I thought you meeting me in a dungeon was a sign you wanted to play ‘catch up.’ ” He considered the situation. “What is this about?”

“The Crystal Empire.”

Fine tensed. It took him a moment to fight down the sobs in the back of his mind. “You got my report. What more do you want to know?”

“I’m not here for some report. Something big has come up. Celestia wants to see you right away.”

Fine’s heart leapt into his throat. His head jerked up before he could think of the consequences, and when his eyes met Hoofknife’s the vision hit. He grabbed the table and flipped it, but Hoofknife used his wings to float backwards before it could hit him in the face. His chair smacked the floor as he went for the door, but Fine held it closed with his magic and pulled the knife from around his neck.

His lips parted in a grin so broad it hurt. “I’m going to make you sing, ugly birdie.”

The struggle was harder than the usual; Hoofknife was a trained combatant, and nearly got the upper hoof on more than a few occasions. They danced around the room, rolled on the floor, smashed the table and the chairs. Yet Hoofknife was much older and suffering from the handicap of aged wounds. In the end Fine, bloody and bruised, at last managed to smash the old bastard’s head through the mirror. Hoofknife’s throat got cut on one of the bottom shards, and he stumbled around the room on weak hooves as he hacked for breath. Blood formed a wavy, beautiful line wherever he went, and Fine followed his every step with a smile and a hum.

Hoofknife collapsed. Fine rolled him over and gazed into the stallion’s wide eyes. Their fear was glorious to behold, almost divine. “I warned you, old fart.” He tapped the tip of his knife against the prostrate pony’s chest, drawing little drops of blood like precious rubies. “Let’s see how much playtime I get before you—”

The pain smashed into Fine’s skull like a sledgehammer and he promptly collapsed to his knees. Vision white, he clutched at his head with twitching hooves. A fire seemed to cover his entire body as tiny convulsions overtook him. He had to remind himself again and again: Breathe. Just breathe. It’ll be over soon. Breathe.

Though it felt like an eternity before the pain started to fade, Fine knew from experience that it had to have been no more than a minute or two. The convulsions ceased, his breath came back in gasps and his vision cleared. He was still in the corner of the interrogation room, and Hoofknife was still sitting at the table, watching him with a solemn frown. No broken furniture, no blood.

“Are you done?” There might have been a smidgeon of concern there.

Fine snarled and, shoving himself to his hooves, re-cast the darkness spell. “This is why I wanted to keep he spell up, you bastard. Now get out and tell that damn jailer to get me a victim.”

There was a long pause, which never boded well when it came to Hoofknife.

“No.”

“Damn it, why? Do you enjoy watching me suffer?”

Another pregnant pause. When Hoofknife spoke again, there was a strange quality to his voice that Fine didn’t recognize. “Fine… I need the Bloodmane. I need you ready to go off at a moment’s notice. It’s important for what’s coming.”

Fine blinked, his anger fading with the last of the pain. He stared into the darkness, mind momentarily blank. “You… But I…” He shook his head in a vain attempt to clear it of the nonsense he’d just heard. “I don’t understand. What for? It’ll take another week to get to Canterlot. You want me in week five while talking to Celestia?” His ears folded back at the mere thought of seeing that witch again. “And if I have a vision in her presence?”

“I’m counting on it.” Fine could almost see the Mane Archon’s smile.

Fine tried to make sense of this response, but he could think of no proper explanations. “You want me, the single most dangerous pony in the Archons, to walk up to Celestia and try to murder her? She’ll tear me to pieces, and you with me.”

“That’s not exactly what I had in mind, no.” Hoofknife sighed. “Look, Fine, you’ve been a major project for me. I’ve got a lot more in mind for you than just assassination and capture jobs. When Celestia asked for my best pony for the Crystal Empire job, I sent you hoping you’d catch her eye. It looks like that’s exactly what happened, because she specifically requested your presence, by name.”

If only those shivers would leave his backside alone. Fine wedged himself against the corner once more, rubbing his back against the stone in an attempt to alleviate the feeling. It also helped distract from his fluttering heart and the weakness in his knees.

“She’s got a special mission in mind for me, doesn’t she? One I’m not going to like.”

Another one of those long, dread-inducing silences.

“We leave first thing in the morning.”

Fine couldn’t help but whimper.








September 3, C.Y. 989
Canterlot Castle


It was rare that Fine visited Canterlot. Too many ponies to bump into, too bright, too much noble stupidity. He’d never been in the castle, nor had ever wished to visit it. He knew his place, and that was in the alleyways and dark corners. Where the bad things waited.

As such, he had no idea where Hoofknife was leading him as they walked along a long, windowless hallway. He kept his eyes set on the double doors ahead, determinedly not looking at his boss. Hoofknife’s steps echoed loudly in the gloom, but Fine’s were almost imperceptible; he was so used to sneaking about that not doing so didn’t even occur to him. Under normal occasions he might have actually enjoyed this part of the castle; it was dark and ominous and quiet, just how he liked it.

Yet he couldn’t enjoy his surroundings. He was five weeks without a kill – just as Hoofknife wanted – but his fears of another vision were the least of his worries. The walls glowed with a dim pink flame that, even ignoring the color, didn’t seem natural. The flames moved too slowly and seemed to follow a distinct rhythm in their swaying forms. The air was thick with magical energy, and Fine could sense through his horn that it came from beyond those doors.

He slowed to a stop. “What is this place?”

Hoofknife paused before the doors and turned to him, expression grim. Fine averted his eyes as a precaution.

“Beyond these doors lie the Ritual Chamber. I do not expect you to know what that means. All you need to know is this: what happens in that room will either change your life forever, or end it.” Hoofknife stepped aside and gesture with a nod of his head. “It’s up to you. Go in, or turn back now.”

Fine chanced a glance his way, then studied the doors. They seemed to loom over him like dual monoliths. “Where’s Celestia?”

“Waiting inside.”

His breath caught in his throat and he had to take a moment for the air to come back to his lungs. “I had hoped to never see her again.”

Hoofknife touched his shoulder. “I know exactly what you mean. I—”

Fine slapped the hoof away. “Don’t patronize me.” He sucked in a deep breath to calm his nerves before glaring at the door. “What can I expect?”

“I’m not allowed to say.” Hoofknife stepped up to press his hoof to the door, but paused. “Fine, I’ve been looking forward to this for fifteen years. I know you can do what needs to be done. Don’t buck this up for me.”

“ ‘Cause it’s all about you,” Fine grumbled.

His boss only smirked before pushing the door open. Hoofknife stood aside and gave Fine a commanding look, and Fine promptly walked in. Thankfully, his knees weren’t shaking anymore.

The room was designed as a hexagon ceiling rising so far above their heads that the room seemed smaller than it was. The pink torches were lined high in the stone brick walls, keeping the floor in a dim lighting. A variety of stones comprised the floor, forming an image of ponies lingering in the shadows of great columns, metal collars fastened about their necks. The ponies took on many faces and poses, some of anger, others of misery, but most of abject fear. Chains stretched from those collars towards the middle of the room, where a very real plinth stood. It was decorated with a familiar sun-shaped cutie mark, and atop it sat a large, pink, leather-bound book.

Hoofknife stood beside the book, but his gaze went high. “I have brought him, as commanded.”

Fine stood on the opposite side of the plinth, barely giving the book a passing glance. Instead he followed his boss’s gaze to a small balcony several stories above them. Shrouded in darkness, it gave Fine the sense of a judge’s bench. His sensitive ears caught the small motions and he could feel eyes upon him. They brought a shiver to his spine.

She stepped out, tall and imposing and ominous in her bearing. Celestia stared down her muzzle at the two ponies below her, eyes cold and commanding.

They locked upon Fine. “Hello again, Verity Fine Crime. A happy birthday to you.”

The voice touched his ears, but Fine took no heed of them. For a moment his mind was slammed with memories of screams, of a city on fire, of a pitiful wreck of a mare begging for release of two different kinds, of a husband sobbing for mercy. His heart pounded against his ribcage and his legs trembled, but he steadily forced the images and sounds away. Slowly, he dropped to one foreknee and bowed his head.

Not a sound filled the Ritual Room. Fine’s own breathing sounded obnoxiously loud.

“Why do you bow?”

Fine’s ears perked. Was that aimed at him? When Hoofknife failed to respond, Fine slowly cast his gaze up. He was careful not to look directly at Celestia; now would be a horrible time for a vision. “I don’t understand.”

“Is it because of loyalty?” He could feel her eyes boring into him. “Because of fear? Do you bow only because you know it is expected?”

When Fine hesitated, Hoofknife whispered to him, “Be honest. Lie to her here and she will know it.”

Fine closed his eyes and nodded his understanding. Wondering if he was about to die, he slowly stood up. He wouldn’t look up at her. “I am loyal to my duty, not you. Never you. I bow because if I don’t I’ll be doing it without legs.”

He held his breath, waiting for the strike. A lightning bolt might be a fast way to die. Or perhaps she’s set him on fire. Best case scenario: sent to the moon.

“Look me in the eye, Fine Crime.”

Fine clenched his teeth, entire body going stiff. “That would be unwise.”

“I know what you are.” Her tone brooked no argument this time. “Look me in the eye.”

Slowly, fearing the worst, he did. Celestia’s pink eyes bored into him, hard as granite and judging. They held one another’s gaze for a long time, so long that Fine began to wonder when the vision would strike. Not that he could ever hope to kill the Goddess of the Sun.

“You hate me.”

Fine swallowed to moisten his throat. “Yes.”

“Did you always hate me, or did the events in the Crystal Empire do it?”

Realizing she might not actually be planning to turn him into a black stain on the floor, Fine spoke with a bit more force; “I never liked you, but I didn’t hate you until then.”

Another long pause. This time Fine refused to look away, determined to match her glare for glare. If he had a vision, so be it. Something told him this place would be his doom regardless, and he preferred to face his demise.

Death had never been what scared him.

At last Celestia looked away, a small smile on her lips as her gaze fell on the still-prostrate Hoofknife. “You were right, Mane Archon, his manner in the Crystal Empire is normal. I like him.”

Fine glanced at Hoofknife from the corner of his eye. “Like me for what?”

Yet Celestia’s attention was now entirely on the Mane Archon. Her horn flashed and the doors closed; Fine heard something lock into place. “This is only your second time here, Hoofknife, is it not?” Hoofknife merely nodded. “Most ponies in your position pick poorly the first time. It took your predecessor three tries.”

Hoofknife stood at attention, his eyes steely. “I have every faith in my choice, Princess.”

Celestia’s smile didn’t waver. If anything, it grew broader. “Does he know what’s in store?”

“No,” Fine answered for him, “he does not. What do you want from me?”

Her gaze crept upon him. She seemed to be pushing him down with her very will, but Fine didn’t buckle. Her tone regained its judging texture. “Would you obey my commands?”

“I have a job,” Fine replied, once again meeting her gaze. “Who the orders come from and my opinion of her doesn’t matter as long as I complete my obligations. What do you want?”

She studied him, expression as hard as ever. After a time she appeared to relax; a smirk formed on her lips. “Defend yourself, Fine Crime. That is all. Hoofknife?”

Hoofknife sucked in a sharp breath.

“Kill him.”

The surprise lasted for less than a second, but Fine’s body moved before the need even registered. He jerked towards his boss to find Hoofknife’s wings spread wide and his eyes filled with murderous intent. “What the buck?” A single red laser shot from Fine’s horn but missed by a wide margin as Hoofknife took to the air.

Hoofknife flew wide circles, his wingtip just grazing the walls as he studied Fine. Fine shifted towards the center of the room, keeping his gaze on his new opponent.

“Is this what you intended, you old bastard? Come on, then, let’s get it over with.”

The pegasus didn’t take the bait; he just kept circling, clearly trying to form a plan. Fine had known that the veteran wouldn’t fall for the ruse, but it hadn’t hurt to try. He made no attempt to question the reason behind these events; he’d question it when the fight was over. He knew well enough that his mentor wouldn’t dare disobey the princess.

Quiet save for the ruffling of feathers, Hoofknife performed a corkscrew maneuver and came flying for Fine. The attack came suddenly, but too slow to catch the ever-alert Fine Crime off guard; he ducked the attack with ease. Just as quick, he cast his darkness spell, shrouding the bottom of the room in impenetrable black.

He lay in the same position, perfectly still as his ears swiveled about. He couldn’t hear Hoofknife’s flapping wings. That disturbed him, but he didn’t dare move. Where was he? Where had the bastard gone to?

The plinth. He must have landed on it, Fine would have heard him land if he’d flown beyond it. The bastard had to have anticipated this spell. Yet if he was on the plinth…

Fine turned, his movements soundless. Was he facing the plinth? Surely he was, the darkness hadn’t messed up his sense of direction quite yet. There could be no certainty; he would have to guess at the range and angle. Taking a moment to think on his mental image of the room, he leveled his horn in just the right way…

He heard the wings flap the instant the magic touched his horn. The simple laser attack was an easy one and quick to cast, but Fine knew as soon as he fired that it hadn’t been quick enough. He jumped back only for something to slam against his chest and knock him off his hooves. He hit the ground and already had been struck four times before he was able to react. By the sixth he had the pattern down. He blocked the seventh with his left leg and used the same to perform a strike; judging by the impact, he thought he hit Hoofknife’s jaw.

His attack had been weak, certainly weaker than Hoofknife’s painful blows. Yet it served its purpose; the swinging punch twisted Fine’s body and made it possible for him to turn onto his barrel. He stood with a jerk, knocking his opponent off simply by the awkward position the motion put them in. He tried bucking but hit only air, Hoofknife’s wings flapping once more.

“You think you can beat me with shadows, little colt?”

Fine said nothing. He crept along the floor, a mere shadow himself, and listened to the flapping. Hoofknife was hovering.

“There’s a reason I made you wait five weeks, Fine.”

Those words pierced Fine’s battle-ready mind and he froze in place. His throat seemed very dry at that moment.

“Drop the spell, Fine, and face me like a stallion!”

“Is that what you want?” Fine whispered, heart pounding as he considered the idea. “You want me to use it as a tool?”

“Isn’t that what you do?”

The flapping grew louder. Fine had just enough presence of mind to roll sideways; a gust of wind blew his mane over his face and he was sure a feather touched his flank. He knew he should change positions, but he’d lost all his focus.

Now he understood what was going on.

“Come on, Fine,” Hoofknife’s disembodied voice called. “Do what you have to.”

Fine jerked about and fired another shot. Too late, he realized that the flapping wings weren’t coming from the same direction as the voice. Something slammed into his side, once again knocking him to the ground. A hoof bashed into his chest and white-hot pain filled him as Hoofknife took to the air again. Fine lay on his side, giving himself time to recover from the agony. His mind registered a probable hairline fracture in his ribs.

Hoofknife was going easy on him.

“You’re stronger than this,” Hoofknife called from somewhere above. “Faster. I know, I’ve seen it. Stop analyzing the situation and fight back! Celestia demands a show.”

Celestia. That craven, immoral wench. This was all for her amusement, was it? Fine picked himself up, ignoring the constant soreness in his chest.

“Come on, Fine.” The voice came from his left. Fine was paying attention this time.

“Don’t disappoint me.” Now the right.

“Drop the darkness.” Ahead of him. Fine steadied himself.

“Fight like a bucking Bloodmane!”

Wings flapped. Fine turned even as he dropped the spell. His vision cleared and there was Hoofknife, flying low right at him. Fine jumped sideways and raised his hoof high. When Hoofknife passed the hoof came down, smashing into the stallion’s right shoulder.

Hoofknife made a sound between a shout and a grunt, spiraling sideways as he felt at the scar on his shoulder. A wing hit the floor and he toppled, bouncing against the ground and rolling to a stop.

“You want to die that badly, you old bastard?” Fine stalked towards him, body low and teeth bared. “You want to abuse my foul blood? All for her amusement?”

Hoofknife chuckled as he stood, favoring his right foreleg. “There’s a lot more to this than amusement, little colt.”

Fine paused. The two stared at one another for several seconds, each sizing the other up. Every breath burned, but even with his injury Fine knew he was better off than his opponent. “What’s this all for, then?”

Lifting his leg to get the weight off it, Hoofknife glanced over Fine’s shoulder. At Celestia, no doubt. His eyes returned to Fine after a brief pause. “Can’t say.”

With a snort, Fine took a threatening step closer. “And this is what you want? After all those years of training me, giving me a path, of mentoring me?”

“Oh, yes.” Hoofknife’s eyes gleamed, his smile broadened. “This is exactly what I want. Kill me, Verity. Kill me or I’ll kill you.”

“If that’s the way it has to—”

It came suddenly, like they always did. It caught Fine by surprise, as usual. Fine locked his legs and sucked in a sharp breath as he saw himself ripping out Hoofknife’s tongue. He focused on the vision, but the adrenaline was still in his system and the desire to succumb was so strong.

“That’s it, little colt,” Hoofknife whispered, approaching him with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Let it come. You’ve got a minute or two before you come out of it, and by that time you’ll be dead.” He moved slowly, one step at a time. “This is it, Fine. Let it out and kill me, or I kill you.”

Fine’s mind was in turmoil, half his focus on the image of him smashing Hoofknife’s face against the stones over and over again, the other watching his mentor readying for the kill. Sweat began to drip into his eye, but all he could think about was the need to not kill the pony who had given his life some kind of purpose. “I… don’t… want… to…”

“If you don’t…” Another step. “Somepony else will.” And another. “This is going to happen whether you like it or not.”

Hoofknife’s screams filled the core of Fine’s mind. He shook his head, body trembling as the vision filled his sight with blood. The real Hoofknife was unknowingly walking in a pool of it, his steps creating bloody imprints on the floor that only seemed half-there.

Fine gasped; Hoofknife had pressed a hoof to his throat. He stared in Fine’s wide eyes. “What are you going to do, Archon?”

At that moment, Fine understood only one thing: he wasn’t ready to die… or to let anypony else face this.

He let it sweep over him. The fantasy faded, replaced with a reality yet to be bloodied.

It felt so horribly, delightfully good.

“I’m going to hurt you.”

Fine raised one leg and pressed it against Hoofknife’s, then slammed the other against the elbow. The impact was accompanied by an ear-piercing crack, but before his opponent could even register the need to scream Fine pulled back and delivered a left hook. With only three legs to work with, Hoofknife collapsed on his side. The pegasus started to scramble away, perhaps to gain some breathing room, but Fine leaped forward and slammed both front hoofs on a wing as it started to spread, right on the metacarpus.

The pegasus jerked to a stop, body slung forward by momentum as his wing anchored him in place. He let out a fresh shout, but it became a scream when Fine stomped with both hooves on the upper wing. A second resounding crack made Fine’s loins quiver and a broad grin split his face.

Hoofknife, now on his side, squirmed against Fine’s weight on his wing. He kicked and tried to bend his neck to bite at Fine’s hoof, to no avail.

“Yes,” Fine whispered. “Keep struggling. Dance for me!” An aural blade appeared over his shoulder as he relished the moment.

Hoofknife tried to turn onto his barrel, but couldn’t. He tugged and gritted his teeth against the pain. “Get off me you bucking psychop—” the blade stabbed into his flank, right over his hourglass cutie mark. He didn’t scream, much to Fine’s annoyance; only hissed through his teeth.

Frowning, Fine twisted the blade and sliced, cutting a long gouge in Hoofknife’s flank. The katana rose high and stabbed into the pegasus’ wounded shoulder, piercing right into the stone below. Hoofknife gasped, entire body going rigid as his free foreleg grasped at the wound.

“Hold still.” Fine’s grin returned as he stomped his back hoof onto the gaping wound of Hoofknife’s flank, but the pegasus still didn’t scream. Fine ground his hoof into the wound, forcing blood to pour out, but he couldn’t get the right sounds to pour out of his victim. He leaned over Hoofknife and whispered into his ear.

“You are going to squeal for me. Keep resisting, please. It’ll make my eventual success that much more succulent.”

Hoofknife’s head whipped back, smacking into Fine’s muzzle. He jumped up, but recovered quickly. He took a moment to wipe the blood from his nostrils, then examined the sticky substance on his fetlock.

He grinned.

“Aren’t we sporting today?”

He grabbed Hoofknife’s head in both hooves and slammed his muzzle into the ground. And again, and again, and again. On the fifth hit he backed off, huffing and chuckling. Hoofknife only moaned.

“Now then, let’s see what it takes to make you sing.”

And Hoofknife did sing. He sang until his lungs burst – or perhaps that was from the pressure of Fine’s hooves after he’d pulled back the ribs. No matter; the important thing was that he rewarded Fine’s efforts with his magnificent voice. And blood. Lots and lots of blood, enough of cover Fine’s muzzle when he pulled out the stallion’s entrails with his teeth. Cracked, exposed bones; teeth scattered around the floor; shrieks that chilled the blood with morbid delight.

Of course, it ended shortly after the lungs. Fine had been a little overeager there. He stood over his bloody and mutilated victim, staring into wide eyes that begged for release. Hoofknife’s jaw was broken; it wobbled as he gasped and heaved for air with lungs that wouldn’t work. His eyes rolled back in his head, his blood-splattered face turned blue.

Fine watched it all, breathing heavy and heart pounding. His lips were locked in a huge grin that made his cheeks ache. He rolled his tongue over his lips, savoring the coppery taste of the blood still decorating his muzzle.

Hoofknife convulsed, body flopping in an amusing fashion, then at last went still.

Time passed. Fine watched, just in case, but at last knew for certain that the deed was done. Giggling, he stepped back and sat, staring at his handiwork with pride. How delectable the screams, how gratifying the blood! He felt alive, full of energy, ready to—

—ready to vomit. He turned away and promptly did so.

As he dropped to his knees and gagged, the last several minutes played back in his mind. The image only made his stomach churn even more. “Oh… Goddess…” He frantically began scrubbing at his muzzle with his fetlocks in a vain attempt to get the blood off. Some of it got on his tongue and he retched.

He dared a glance at the body, then turned away and covered his muzzle, breathing in shallow gasps. “Not m-my fault. This is… n-not my…”

“Are you done?”

Fine jerked about and his vision was filled with green. He started to rise to his hooves, but his entire body went rigid before he could get to more than a crouching stance. His jaw slackened and his body tensed as… something connected to his horn.

Celestia stood over him, her gaze matched with his and her eyes burning with green fire. A wavy stream of similarly colored energy flowed from her horn to his, steadily engulfing his body. Out the corner of his eye, Fine could see the light rising up the walls like living spiderwebs, runes not visible before shimmering like beacons.

He wanted to run, to break eye contact and flee, but his body refused to obey his commands. There was a pressure on his mind and a tingle running down his spine. His scream came out as a hoarse wind. Something crawled in his skull, skittering about like a thousand tiny insects. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t focus, couldn’t speak or move. All he knew were hideous green flames, clawing little brain bugs and complete helplessness.

Fine didn’t fear death.

He did fear this. To have this… this brutal whatever forced upon him and not even be able to scream his displeasure!

Then, just as suddenly as it had started, it was done. Fine collapsed in a heap, sobbing and sore and convulsing. He didn’t even think about trying to move. He simply lay there, staring at nothing and trying to piece together his fragmented mind. Where was he, how had he come to be here, why did he feel like his head was full of lead?

Somepony was talking to him. The words were fuzzy, he couldn’t make them out. He tried to move his legs. They wouldn’t obey; too busy twitching and kicking randomly. Something was wrong. With his body, his chest, it burned. Sore, but also burning. His mouth opened and closed over and over again as weak sounds left his throat.

The moment he realized that he wasn’t breathing, he sucked down a sharp gasp. The pain instantly reduced itself to a mere ache, and though already on the floor Fine felt as though he’d collapsed all over again. The green flames in his vision were finally fading and the fuzziness of the world went with it. The first thing he noticed was that the torches on the walls had all turned rosewood red.

Celestia stood over him, turned to gaze at something to his right. “W-what did you do to me?”

She cast him a curious glance. “Be silent and still.”

Fine wanted to protest. He tried to protest. He couldn’t. He just sat there and watched. Not sure why, he tried to recall the entire spell. The runes, the green fire in her eyes, the feeling of creatures in his head that made him shiver.

Celestia turned to him with a pleasant smile. “That was most impressive, Fine Crime. I look forward to having you around.”

Fine tried to work his lips. They wouldn’t move. He blinked and tried again; nothing.

The princess grinned. “Lay down.”

Before Fine could even think about it, he was on his barrel. His mind reeled.

“Roll over.”

He rolled onto his back, eye wide.

“Bark.”

And he did. He barked like a dog. His breathing grew shallow again.

“Good boy. Now, sit.”

Fine was on his haunches in an instant. He stared up at Celestia as if he’d never seen her before. “What did you do?”

Celestia leaned over him, her smile wicked. “You will not harm me. You will not lie to me. You will never tell anypony what happened in this room. If anypony asks, Hoofknife chose to retire in anonymity.”

He opened his mouth to reject her words. He could not. A vice clamped over his chest as he continued to stare into her playful eyes. “H-how?”

“That’s for me to know.” Celestia moved closer and raised her wing.

Fine shied away.

“Stay still.”

Fine’s legs locked, and despite his pounding heart and pleading mind he could do nothing as she sat flank-to-flank with him and draped a ‘comforting’ wing over his shoulder. She nodded at something. “Look at your work, Fine Crime.”

Fine turned his gaze to the side, where the mutilated corpse of Hoofknife still lay. The sight made Fine’s stomach churn; the exposed ribs, the broken limbs, the loose jaw opened wide in a silent scream, the blood splashed all over the floor. He started to turn away—

“Look at it.”

He stared. His stomach rebelled and he nearly threw up, but he looked. A tear ran down his cheek at the sight of his own evil deed.

“Are you proud of what you have done?”

“N-no.”

“Good.” Celestia smiled at the mess before them. “He was a good Mane Archon, but in the past year his age caught up to him. Too many failures too frequently.” She gave Fine an encouraging smile. “You are the Mane Archon now.”

Fine couldn’t take his eyes off the corpse. Literally. He whimpered and shook his head as much as he could manage, but his eyes remained focused on it. “I d-don’t want the job.”

“I don’t care.” Celestia chuckled. “Hoofknife chose you as his successor, knowing full well what that meant. I’ve been using this little ritual for seven hundred years, Fine, and it always brings me great pleasure. Yours wasn’t the most exciting fight I’ve seen, but oh, that heavenly finale! You have a gift, that’s for sure, and I aim to make use of it.”

“N-no, please…”

She went on as if he weren’t speaking at all. “Now, you are going to spend the next several months learning all about Hoofknife’s former duties, aren’t you?”

No! “Y-yes, Princess.”

“Once I believe you’ve learned enough, I will make the shift in leadership official. I’ll keep my eye on the Archons myself until that time. Now, what is your job?”

“I… I…” Fine trembled beneath her wing, tears streaming freely down his cheeks by this point. “I don’t…”

“What is your job, Fine Crime?”

He sucked down a deep breath. “To protect the Princess Celestia from her enemies, by any means necessary.”

Her smile faded. She studied him for several seconds with an intense gaze. He couldn’t meet it; he was still stuck staring at Hoofknife’s intestines. After a little while she sighed and stepped away. “It will do for now. We’ll see what your answer is later.”

She made her way to the exit, which swung open to her magic. “Your first order: I want you to personally clean up this mess. When you’re done, talk to my secretary; she’ll get you settled in your new quarters here in the castle. Good afternoon, Mane Archon. And happy birthday again.”

The doors slammed closed. Fine could only stare at the horror before him and sob.

The red torches faded, leaving him in blessed darkness.
> Book I — Fine Crime: Celestia's Test
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------




It’s no secret that I used to hate the Archons. Why shouldn’t I? Buckers are responsible for so much misery in this world. They deserve to get their tails handed to them, especially after what they did to Amethyst's family.

That’s how I used to think, anyway. Sometimes I wake up at night sweating because I realize… buck it all to Tartarus, I’m one of those bastards. I start to hate myself and panic and act like an idiot. Then I come out of it and I realize that it’s not their fault. It’s not my fault. When Fine first recruited me, I felt like the biggest hypocrite.

Now I know. I can’t claim to speak for every Archon out there, but at least when it comes to Fine and the Order, I get it. What he wants to do is impossible and it’s gonna take a motherbucking miracle to even come close. Goddess knows Celestia won’t help us, and her sister? Fat chance, not with that blasted demon in her head. It comes down to us, and every time I think about it I get chills. We all could die tomorrow, and nothing will have changed.

It’s worth the fight, right? The end justifies the means. The means isn’t even our fault.

But I keep thinking on my friend.

Ammy. I wish I could explain to you why he had no choice.

—Vinyl Scratch, Book of Shadows XLVIII
May 12, C.Y. 1007








November 24, C.Y. 989
Canterlot Castle


Fine sat at his huge cherry desk, poring over letters that periodically appeared in small puffs of smoke. He tried not to think about how it had once been Hoofknife’s desk, as was the study it sat in and the ten-room suite of the castle he was now obligated to live in. Fine’s living arrangements were nothing short of extravagant and he hated every inch of the place. Even the beautiful view of Canterlot, shimmering orange in the dusk, earned his scorn.

This ‘reward’ was like a tantalizing fruit, begging him to take a bite and taste the poison that came with it. Had Celestia not ordered him to make this his new permanent residence, he wouldn’t have been anywhere near it.

He read through another letter and hastily penned a response. Once done, he rolled the letter up and dropped it into a tall bottle filled with a dark blue liquid. Within seconds the letter had dissolved, sent on its magical way to whomever it had been addressed to. Two more letters poofed into existence as Fine grabbed another.

This was a large part of his work; reading letters and making decisions based on them. There were, according to Celestia, five tiers of importance to the letters, but he was only getting the bottom three. The largest pile stood on the floor to the right of the desk. He didn’t look at them too often, as they were beneath his new rank, although he sometimes checked them as a means of quality control on the agents who now answered to him. The letters would disintegrate on their own once whatever Archon it had been addressed to dealt with their contents.

It always struck him as weird, knowing he had ponies under his command now. It was an entirely new experience that, were it not for the circumstances of his promotion, he might have thoroughly enjoyed. Fine had never understood just how good it would feel to be the one giving the orders for a change.

The second tier also didn’t require his direct interference, but they were higher in priority and thus warranted a bit more attention. The third tier, while technically still below his rank, were required reading to ensure that he kept track of major events. According to what he’d learned already, Hoofknife hadn’t been much for monitoring the third tier and had all-out ignored the last two. Maybe that explained the mistakes Celestia mentioned.

Fine didn’t intend to make the same decisions.

A bell rang somewhere in the ceiling. Grumbling, Fine set aside the letter he was reading and made his way through the rooms. Lush carpet covered the study, hallways and bedrooms, while dark hardwood floors made up most of the other rooms. The walls were lavishly decorated with fine art, mirrors and blue paint. Celestia had made it abundantly clear that Fine was free to redecorate the place to his heart’s content, but in three months he’d yet to make a single adjustment. Interior décor had been his father’s thing, and though Fine had inherited the eye for it, he’d never made use of the gift.

Besides, he felt his mentor’s ghost glaring at him any time he considered changing something.

The bell chimed a second time before Fine finally reached the door. He was supposed to have servants for this sort of thing, but had dismissed the lot of them. He pulled the door open with his magic.

“Oh, there you are!”

Fine never knew how to greet this particular visitor. He should probably smile, but that was hard considering the rude awakening she was set to have. The pony was a filly, only eleven years old and decorated with a flamboyant mane of crimson and gold. She ducked a little at Fine’s emotionless stare.

“I’m sorry for bothering you, Mr. Crime,” she said, “but Celestia told me to. She wants me to bring you to her quarters right away.”

Fine finally managed a smile at the filly’s anxious pout. “It’s okay, Sunset; I don’t mind if you come to visit.”

She perked up instantly. “Really? Thanks, Mr. Crime.”

He cringed and coughed into his fetlock. “Please, just call me ‘Fine.’ ”

Sunset Shimmer shook her head, brilliant mane whipping back and forth around her horn. “Nuh-uh! The princess says we should always greet important ponies properly. You’re the Mane Archon, Mr. Crime, and that means you’re a very important pony.”

He sighed and glanced away. “I don’t know about that.”

“I do!” Sunset sat and raised her hoof, mimicking one of Celestia’s dictating poses. “You are a very, very important pony. Only Princess Celestia is more important. She said so.”

Fine stared at the filly, trying to process what he just heard. “She said that? Really?”

“Yep!” Sunset nodded emphatically with a big grin. “It must be neat to be that important. Celestia told me she’s got a major test for you to take and that if you pass you’re gonna do big things for her. Isn’t that great?”

“Uh…” Fine hesitated, but couldn’t bring himself to burst the filly’s bubble. “Yeah, just great.”

“It is!” Sunset frowned and kicked at the floor, her pout coming back. “I wanna take a test like that. I wanna do big, important pony stuff for the princess.”

Putting on a smile took all of Fine’s willpower, but he pulled it off and patted Sunset on the head. “You’ll get there someday.” He didn’t dare mention that it would probably be the worst day of her life, and that assumed she succeeded. Goddess help her if she failed. “And if you want to be proper, call me the Mane Archon. ‘Mr. Crime’ makes me sound like a bad guy.”

Sunset giggled. “It’s just a name, silly, and you’re not bad. You’ve always been nice to me.”

With a sigh, Fine stepped outside and closed the door. “Just because I’m nice doesn’t mean I’m good. You’ll learn that someday. Come on, best not keep the princess waiting.”

He walked slowly so her short legs could keep up, and she still moved at a trot. Always with that big, eager smile. Fine liked Sunset – a lot – but not knowing what Celestia had planned for her future left a perpetual knife in his guts. He never tried to warn her of the dangers, though. No point.

More pressing on his mind was this ‘test’ Sunset mentioned. Celestia had told him last week that she would be giving him the full responsibilities of the Mane Archon very soon. Perhaps this ‘test’ was to prove him ready for the role. Fine didn’t like the idea, but he had a job to do, and he never backed out of a job once given.

Celestia’s quarters were in the grand central tower of Canterlot Castle, so it took some time for them to get there. Sunset passed the minutes by cheerfully informing Fine of all she’d learned in the past week; new spells, history, politics, mathematics and so on. Her schooling was going well, and Sunset clearly made for an excellent student. No wonder Celestia had chosen her for an apprentice.

She’s already proven herself to be a remarkable talent. Maybe in a couple of years I can test her and make her my protégé.

“Mr. Crime? Are you okay?”

Sunset was studying him, standing on the tips of her hooves and stretching her neck out to peer at his face. He shook his head and smiled for her. “Sorry, just had a thought.”

“Oh.” They resumed walking, but her eyes were still set on him. “About what?”

“Nothing little fillies need to worry about.”

Twilight Sparkle. Fine would make it a point to look her up. He couldn’t help but wonder what she would mean for Sunset’s future.

At last they reached the large, golden double-doors of Celestia’s chambers. A pair of stern-looking guards stood on either side… or at least, usually stern royal guards. Their pale coats turned an extra shade of white upon seeing Fine and they shifted anxiously as he approached. Fine could never be sure what to think of the reputation that came with his new job title.

Sunset knocked on the door with her little hoof. “Princess Celestia? We’re here.”

Celestia’s voice, gentle as a mother’s, whispered in their heads. Ah, very good. Do come in, you two.

The filly practically bounced through the door; Fine followed at a more subdued pace.

Fine had been in Celestia’s rooms often enough. Due to the highly secretive nature of Archon activities, the princess preferred to meet Fine in private locations such as this. He’d grown accustomed to the lavish nature of the place, with its vaulted ceiling, exquisite wood furniture, silver-framed images and lush purple carpet. To be fair, Celestia only kept two rooms in such a state of grandeur, the lounge and the dining room, which were the ones she would occasionally meet foreign dignitaries in. The other rooms, while still decidedly royal, didn’t put on so much effort in flaunting it.

They found Celestia in her private study, entering just in time for her to discreetly slip some papers into a drawer. Sunset bowed before hurrying to share a quick nuzzle with Celestia; Fine merely stood opposite the desk and waited.

“You did very good, Sunset,” Celestia announced, patting the beaming filly on the head. “Thank you for being so prompt. How’s the reading on Shēnzào’s Enchanting Theorems coming along?”

“About half done,” Sunset replied, though she frowned. “I think some of the translations in that old book are off. They don’t make sense with Spark Dancer’s work on magic entropy.”

The princess ginned and nodded. “Very good, my little pony. Shēnzào and Spark Dancer were born both a century and a world apart, and neither knew of the other’s works. Comparing the two is difficult.”

Sunset’s smile came back in a flash. “And that’s why you assigned me the essay, right?” At Celestia’s nod, she sat tall and attained what was probably meant to be her most confident pose. “Don’t worry, Princess, I can take it.”

“I’m sure you can. Oh!” Celestia raised her hoof as if just recalling something. Her horn shined as a small box on a corner shelf floated towards the filly. “For you. It was a gift from the ambassador of Germaney, but I thought you’d appreciate it more.”

Sunset took the box in her magic and studied it, then bounced high. “The cinnamon kind! Thank you, Princess!”

Celestia grinned and patted Sunset’s mane. “Now you go on, I need to have a private discussion with the Mane Archon.”

“Okay. I’ll try to have the book finished by tomorrow night. Bye, Mr. Crime!”

Fine watched Sunset depart at a trot, then turned to Celestia. The princess waved after the filly before turning to Fine. She cocked her head at his bemused frown. “What?”

“Nothing,” he replied. “Just wondering when you plan on ripping her heart out.”

Celestia smiled towards the door. “I admit, I’m looking forward to the day I can give her more… mature responsibilities. Sunset has been an exemplary student. If she passes all my tests then I may make her my archmage. I’ve not assigned one of those in…”

“Two-hundred-thirty-two years,” Fine said once her pause lingered too long.

“You’ve been studying.” Celestia’s smile returned. “I approve. Hoofknife said you were a quick learner.”

“Just making sure I can do the job. I’ve been going through the Book of Shadows collection; figure the more I know about what my predecessors did, the better I’ll be at avoiding their mistakes.”

“Smart.” Celestia looked genuinely pleased, but Fine didn’t trust the expression. “You’ll find they all made a mistake at some point or another.” Her smile didn’t fade, but Fine didn’t miss the shift in her tone. “I’m not good at tolerating mistakes.”

“Nor would I expect you to be.” Fine sat and leveled her with a expectant frown. “Now, what is this ‘test’ your naïve little apprentice mentioned?”

“Ah, yes.” Her drawer opened and the letter she’d been reading a moment ago rose into the air. “Tell me, do you know about Jewel Hoof?”

Fine cocked his head, but after thinking on the name he nodded. “He used to be the royal jeweler. That’s about as much as I know at the moment.”

“He had a foal recently.”

Fine glanced at the letter, then shrugged. “So?”

Celestia’s smile grew. “His wife is a pegasus.”

Once again, Fine could only stare.

“He is a unicorn.”

“Oh.” Understanding struck, and Fine’s lips dropped into a scowl. “You want me to punish a pair of ponies because they decided to disobey one of your petty, bigoted laws?”

“The law is the law.”

“It’s a stupid law,” Fine countered with a growl. He didn’t care that he was insulting Celestia; she’d made it clear that he was to voice his disapproval whenever possible, and thus far she’d not so much as given him a harsh look for his opinion. “It makes no sense to make interracial relationships illegal. And why only in Canterlot? Why not all of Equestria?”

“It is still the law. Even so, if it were just this then I wouldn’t be bothered.” Celestia let the letter fall to the desk and steepled her hooves. Her dark smile never faded as she repeated, “They had a foal.”

Fine felt like walking out then and there, but that would have been a mistake. Instead he just glared at Celestia and let the anger simmer beneath the surface. “This is something for the guards, not the Archons. Why bother me with it?”

“Because this is a test,” she replied, pushing the paper towards him with her magic. “It’s not a matter of can you do it, it’s a matter of how you do it. I want Jewel Hoof to be made as an example to the citizens of Canterlot regarding what happens when they disobey my laws. The Royal Guard make decent enforcers, but when it comes to striking fear in ponies’ hearts? That’s the Archons’ job.”

Fine stared at her, then looked to the letter. There was a sinking feeling in his stomach and he realized that he was almost desperate to not read it. Slowly, he reached forward and took the paper in his hooves. He began to read. He got through the first paragraph before putting it back down.

“This is… barbaric,” he whispered. “You actually think they deserve this?”

“Of course not.” Celestia’s smile didn’t waver. “They’ve done nothing wrong, save disobey the law. But it’s going to happen anyway, and you are going to be there personally to make sure of it.”

Fine slumped forward, a distinct horror filling him. “Celestia… don’t make me do this. They don’t deserve this.”

She said nothing. She merely watched with that patient, expectant smile. Once again, Fine picked up the paper in his shaking hooves. This time he read through the whole thing. Every word made his heart ache and his insides churn. “At… at least let it wait a few weeks. I just went to the dungeons three days ago, I can’t have a vision for at least another eighteen. I don’t think I can do this myself otherwise.”

Celestia giggled, regaining his attention. “That’s the point, Fine, I don’t want you to do it yourself. Let me be perfectly clear: this really is a test. I want this done within two days time, and then I want you to write me a full, detailed report on what happened. I want you to tell me how you arranged it and your reasons, without your judgment hindered by the Bloodmane. Pass, and you graduate to the next phase of being Mane Archon. Fail… well, you don’t want to.”

Fine swallowed to ease the dryness in his throat. “The ‘next phase?’ You mean I won’t be fully in the position at that point?”

At that question her smile faded, traded for a ponderous expression. “Very few make it to the full job of Mane Archon. Pass this, and you will be the Mane Archon, but certain doors will remain closed to you. Most Mane Archons remain stuck in that position for their entire careers, such as Hoofknife.”

“I see.” Fine shuffled and glanced at the letter. Part of him was horrified at the prospect of there being more horrors to learn about, yet he couldn’t deny his morbid curiosity.

Celestia leaned back and regained her smile, although this time it was a touch more pleasant. “Let me dangle a carrot before your face: if you do graduate to the full job of Mane Archon, I will give you something that only a pony in your position could desire. I cannot tell you exactly what it is, but I assure you that it will be worth it.”

Fine rolled his eyes and tucked the letter under his leg. “There is no material thing you can offer that would make this job more enjoyable.”

“I’m not offering you anything material.”

He paused at the door, looking over his shoulder with a curious expression. “Knowledge, then?”

She paused to consider her words, tapping a hoof to her chin and cocking her head one way, then another. At last she said, “Something more… ‘health’ oriented. Now go, do your job.”

He sniffed his derision, but did as he was told.

He was incapable of doing otherwise.









The great elevator at the center of Canterlot Castle was broad enough to fit a dozen ponies easily, but today it only held Fine and the five unicorn royal guards who powered the device. Fine sat in the middle of the group, watching as floor after floor of castle passed. He’d often questioned the wisdom of having an elevator shaft in the castle that went directly to the crystal caves beneath the city; it seemed like the easiest way for the denizens below to slip in and wreak havoc. To be fair, the shaft had been made centuries ago, long before the mines had been repurposed.

The last floor disappeared, replaced by rock and marble supports, but still the elevator descended. With every passing second, Fine fought a little more to maintain a calm expression. He kept his legs locked, his neck taut and his eyes focused forward, not daring to show any weakness before the guards. Fine sucked down a deep breath as the rock at last gave way to gleaming crystal. Several seconds later, the lift began to slow.

The lift came to a jerking halt at the very bottom of the shaft, but no opening was apparent. The shaft was now lit by dimly glowing crystals that remained imbedded in the walls, perhaps in the same places they’d been since the mine was first excavated centuries ago. Fine glanced towards the Captain of the Guard, who nodded and turned his attention and horn to a dark wall. With all five guards working in tandem, they managed to lift a section of the wall so that it rose into the ceiling.

Fine sucked down a deep breath to calm his nerves; his muzzle was promptly assaulted by the reek of unwashed bodies, trash and blood. The scent jolted him and he coughed before at last stepping off the lift. “Thank you, Captain. I’ll signal you when I’m ready to return.”

The captain nodded and closed the hidden exit, appearing as eager to be away from this place as Fine was.

Now on his own, Fine adjusted his new vest and checked to ensure his Archon talisman was visible. He gave it a cursory examination; a silver recreation of Celestia’s cutie mark, the tips of the sun touching an outer circle of onyx. At the center of the sun was an eye with a thin iris. It wasn’t the most interesting design, but not a single pony in Equestria would fail to recognize it, and that was exactly what he needed now.

Fine marched through the dim tunnels, not bothering to cover his muzzle against the smell. Before long he found the source; trash piled high and thick in every corner of the path, so constant he couldn’t avoid stepping in some of it. Moldy blankets and clothes, shreds of metal, shattered furniture and so many other things littered the area, but not a scrap of food. This made Fine wonder where the smell was coming from… until he spotted a rotting pegasus carcass amongst the discarded items. He moved on, preferring not to give the fly-infested thing a closer look.

In retrospect, it made perfect sense that this area would be used as a trash heap. Perhaps it was the locals’ method of ‘sticking it to the mare.’ Fine couldn’t blame them in the least.

At last, Fine escaped the tunnels. He stood upon a rise in the floor of a vast cavern of crystal, the roof and walls shimmering in unrivaled splendor. Yet within that cavern was one of the most notorious and worst-kept secrets in all of Equestria: the slums. The floor of the cavern was carpeted with tents, lean-tos and rows upon rows of blankets. Near the far wall stood what had once been a temporary miner’s town, the buildings still standing but in a clear state of disrepair.

The cavern floor was filled with ponies. Hundreds of them milling about, talking, sitting around in groups, fighting, arguing, nursing wounds. None seemed to take note of Fine’s arrival, but to be fair, he was still several hundred feet from the nearest inhabitant. He glanced around, noting the many different tunnels leading out of the cavern. On the other side of the decrepit town was the main entrance shaft, which from Fine’s vantage appeared open to all. He wasn’t fooled; he’d seen the great gates blocking the exit before.

Fine followed the wall of the cavern, making his way to a specific tunnel on his far left. A few ponies, outcasts even among the outcasts, hovered near the walls. A few actively avoided him, cowering in apparent terror as if they feared his gaze. Others watched him pass with blank stares, and some outright ignored him. Many were scarred or had been amputated and more than one appeared to be suffering from some kind of dire illness. A lot of them were thin to the point of exposed bones.

At last, Fine reached the tunnel he was after. A quartet of brutes, appearing a lot healthier than those along the walls, lazed about the place. They jumped to their hooves as Fine approached and moved to block him. Before Fine could even state his intentions, however, they caught sight of his talisman and backed away as if he were made of living flame.

Fine offered no greetings or smiles. He turned his eye upon the biggest of the guards, a half-bald pegasus with only one wing. “You. Tell your boss that I’m coming to talk to him. Nopony needs to be hurt provided he plays along.”

The stallion galloped off as if his tail were on fire. Fine followed, not bothering to even glance at the remaining three. They kept pressed against the walls as if scared to even touch him.

The tunnel within was neater than the rest of the slums. Items were stacked together in some semblance of order and the ponies appeared hardier than the rest of the rabble, even if one could barely call them ‘healthy.’ There was no small number of ponies, but they all gave him a wide berth. Fine thought he saw a mare hiding a foal beneath a blanket. Perhaps she thought he’d come to steal the poor thing away.

If he did, it probably would have been a blessing to the child’s future.

He came upon a three-way split in the tunnel. Fine glanced one way and saw a couple ushering foals away from him. The children appeared so horribly malnourished. He glanced another way and saw ponies hovering around boxes beneath tarps. The strings on the tarps were loose and the ponies were making an effort to block his view of any labels, but the smell of fruit and vegetables reached his nostrils even through the stench of their unwashed bodies. Did they think he was going to take their food supply away if he noticed?

Fine at last turned to the third path, in which ponies were already spread wide apart. Guessing that was due to the stallion he sent ahead, Fine walked along the thin tunnel. Ponies pressed against the walls as if hoping to slip into some unknown cracks as he passed, and he thought he saw more than a few praying. Their eyes were as focused on his talisman as they were on him.

At the far end of the tunnel, Fine came upon a curtain that hung from a rusty pole jammed into the walls. He paused several feet away and waited, his ears picking up the sound of muffled voices. Seconds passed as what seemed to be an argument played out just beneath the level of audibility. At last the voices quieted down, and a moment later the curtains parted.

A stallion stepped out, but came to an abrupt stop upon seeing Fine. He froze, blue eyes sharp and teeth bared. Surprisingly big for a unicorn, he was white with a curly blue mane and moustache. The most striking thing about him, however, was the crack that ran down the entire length of his otherwise impressive horn.

Fine offered no smile. “Hello, Fancy Pants.”

Fancy’s eyes darted to Fine’s talisman, then to Fine himself. He scuffed the floor as if considering whether to make a run for it. “What do you intend to take from me this time, Archon?”

“I don’t intend to take anything from you,” Fine replied. “I intend to work with you.”

Teeth bared, Fancy backed a step. “I want nothing to do with your kind.”

Fine sat and nodded. “I understand. If not for the Archons, nopony would have ever known you were secretly supporting Governor Cadance. To be honest, I can’t believe that Celestia didn’t send you to Tartarus with Blueblood, although I suppose it makes sense to have at least one lasting example in view of the public.”

Fancy eyed him as if expecting an attack. “Good, then you’ll leave. Right now.”

“I don’t think so.” Fine glanced to his left; a stallion with a bandage over half his face averted his gaze. Fine glanced right; a pair of mares attempted to hide, one burying her head beneath the other’s wing. Both were unnaturally thin.

“You’ve been carrying on your work.” Fine turned back to Fancy and worked to keep his voice soothing. “In a mere three months you’ve already made a big name for yourself in the slums. If it weren’t for a few of the more powerful gangs, you could be the leader of this place. More food for the most needy, less restrictive water control, fewer conflicts, more lives saved. You’re a philanthropist even when all your riches have been confiscated and your name been reduced to mud on the surface.”

Fancy growled, tail swishing as he kicked the floor a second time. “What is your point, Archon?”

“I am not just ‘Archon,’ ” Fine snapped. “I am Fine Crime, the Mane Archon, and my point is that I want you to succeed.”

“The… Mane Archon?” Fancy considered this, expression skeptical. “What happened to Hoofknife?”

“He retired,” Fine replied, cringing at how easily the lie came out. “I replaced him not long after the end of the rebellion.”

Fancy thought on this, but didn’t relax. “Archons are Archons. You’re still Celestia’s puppet.”

“You’re right.” Fine grimaced at the fact. “When she gives an order, I must obey. But that doesn’t mean I can’t adjust how things are done. That’s why I’m here.” He raised his hoof, as if to offer it despite them being too far apart for that. “Hoofknife put you down here, and there’s nothing I can do about it. However, if you’ll give me a chance, I think I can help you help these ponies. With time and cooperation, I might even be able to make you the one who hoofs out work permits.”

Eyes widened; now he had Fancy’s attention. “How do I know this isn’t some setup?”

“You don’t.” Fine toyed with his talisman, lacking the knife he usually carried. “Let’s go inside and talk. You can always reject my offer… but know that if you do, I’ll be forced to swing my favor in the direction of one of your rivals. I don’t want to do that. There’s a reason I came here first, Fancy.”

Fancy hesitated, body tense. He stared at Fine, then glanced at the ponies along the tunnel. His gaze fell to the curtain behind him, then back to Fine. Gears were turning in the former businesspony’s head and Fine was content to wait for them to finish working.

At last Fancy stepped back. “I’ll hear you out, Archon. I guarantee nothing.”

Fine relaxed. “That’s good enough for me.”









The hallway remained unlit, save for the lights emanating from beneath a door or two. It was also filthy with trash and covered in dust. A lone lamp hung from the ceiling, unlit and with a crack running along its surface.

Fine huddled in a shadowy corner, his heart pounding and his stomach reeling. Were his legs not firmly locked they would have been shaking. He ran the orders over and over again in his mind, but the repetition did nothing to end his disgust. Sometimes he would close his eyes and pray that it was tomorrow and the deed had already been done.

A stallion with all the heft – and brains – of a rock appeared at his side. “They in there, Packer say.” He grinned, revealing several missing teeth. The rest were yellow and didn’t help Fine’s insides. “Ready fer some fun?”

Where did Fancy find these stallions? “You know what you have to do?”

The brute flexed his shoulders and cracked his neck, never losing that wicked grin. “Oh, yeah.”

Fine nodded. “Just subdue them at first. Don’t get started with the—” he barely avoided shuddering, “—good stuff until I get in there to watch.”

“Hey, yer the Archon.”

That statement brought a curious thought to Fine’s mind. He turned to the stallion, tapping his big shoulder. For all his size and bravado, the brute still flinched at the physical contact. “Hey, a question: why do you work for Fancy?”

The stallion recovered and shot a toothy smile. “Ya mean ‘Why’s a good guy like that employin’ a freak like you.’ ”

Fine waved a dismissive hoof. “Po-tay-to, po-tah-to.”

“Po-tah-to.” The burly stallion didn’t lose his grin, nor did he seem offended. “Lemme tell ya somethin’ about the slums: there are two things in very short supply down here. First’s food, second’s character. Now, Fancy-Schmancy’s big on character, but he gotta protect the food, ya hear? Not many ponies in the slums can do that an’ be all goody-four hooves.”

“Work with what you’ve got,” Fine concluded, expression grim.

“That’s it. You just sit back an’ watch, surface dweller. We might be bucking bastards, but we’re Fancy’s bucking bastards.” With that, he trotted off down the hall.

Perhaps these hired hoofs of Fancy’s were smarter than they appeared, but Fine was still mildly surprised at how well they took to taking orders from a ‘surface dweller.’ By all rights, they should hate his guts. Maybe they did. There were a lot of horror stories about what life was like in the slums and the kind of ponies that lived down here, but Fine had never been fooled. He was an Archon, and responsible for at least a dozen ponies being thrown into a major city’s slum level – four in Manehattan alone, and only one of those deserved it.

Still, that stallion and the five others helping out in this situation all obviously belonged down here. That had been clear from the moment Fancy had introduced them.

The stallion reappeared at the end of the hall, crossing it on his way to the targeted room. He was followed by the other five ponies, some carrying small cans and all moving with the stealth of a freight train; the task had begun. Fine walked down the hall, ears perking as hooves slammed into wood. Another three hits and something gave. A scream filled the air; nopony left their rooms to investigate. Screams probably weren’t that uncommon down here.

Fine’s legs wobbled.

The sounds of magic and fighting filled the air, but didn’t last long. As Fine rounded the corner, he heard a snap followed by a much more primal shriek. Somepony – a mare – was begging for mercy and a foal began to cry. Fine paused beside a doorway, the door itself a shattered mess barely hanging on the hinges. He stood there in silence, breathing heavy and steeling his heart.

He willed himself to walk away, or to step in and stop the brutes, or to order them to cease their work. He struggled to do anything other than what he’d been told to do. His legs refused to budge. He felt like crying, but instead he sucked down the desire and walked forward. It proved disturbingly easy.

Jewel Hoof was red and not a very big pony. He was prostrate on his barrel, held down by two massive earth ponies. His horn had been snapped off and now lay innocuously on the floor. A purple pegasus was pressed against the wall by another earth pony, while a unicorn pinned her wings with magic. A fifth pony, a unicorn mare, lay on the floor, unconscious and bleeding from a cut over her left eye.

“Here.” The brute Fine had spoken to earlier, the only one not unconscious or holding a captive, kicked the horn Fine’s way. “A souvenir.”

Fine lifted the horn and studied it with a deep frown. There was no blood, but he felt no relief from the fact. If anything, this only made the moment all the more real. He was tempted to drop the thing, but instead he held onto it with his magic.

The red stallion tried to raise his head, but it was pinned to the floor by a lone hoof. Even so, his wide eyes were locked on the talisman around Fine’s neck. “P-please, we didn’t do anything wrong! We left the city, what more do you want?”

Fine sighed and shook his head. “Celestia wants you made an example to the public. She gave me very specific instructions.”

“You don’t have to do this!”

“Yes, I do.” Fine looked into Jewel Hoof’s horrified eyes and felt his heart twisting. “I know you can’t understand, but I really do.”

The mare squirmed against her captors. “What have we done to deserve this? We didn’t hurt anypony. It’s not our fault we fell in love!”

Fine turned to her, taking a moment to study her features as best he could under the circumstances. He glanced at the horn floating by his shoulder, then at her wings. Using his magic, he plucked a long pinion from one of her wings. The act elicited a yelp from her, but her eyes were on her husband.

“I don’t intend to let this linger longer than it has to.” Fine looked to the stallion still standing by Jewel Hoof. The pony stared back, awaiting permission. Fine sucked down a deep breath and once again tried to resist. Celestia’s words echoed in his head, loud and ominous and commanding.

He nodded. It happened automatically.

The stallions atop Jewel Hoof began their work, kicked and pounding on him with grins on their faces. He shouted and cried and begged, but the blows didn’t stop. His wife screamed as she was jerked from the wall and thrown on the floor. She tried to run to her husband but was set upon by the remaining ponies before she could get even take a step.

She shrieked as one of the stallions mounted her. Squirming and sobbing proved useless; within seconds her entire body was bobbing to the thrusts. The unicorn pinning her wings gave each a slow twist, drawing out the process of cracking her bones as she howled.

Fine watched; he sat in the corner and observed the scene in its entirety. His ears picked up every scream of the mare as she was violated again and again, absorbed the pleading sobs of her husband as he was forced to watch. Whenever the brutes got tired of his pleas they would start beating him again, only to pause and trade roles whenever one finished with her. Every stallion got a turn, and when the big mare who had been unconscious finally awoke she got to play as well.

Fine just watched, and absorbed, and died inside. He cursed Celestia under his breath, and himself for not being able to resist her commands. He winced with every blow at first, but as time passed his flinching ceased. As Jewel Hoof stopped begging, as his wife ceased her struggles, as their eyes glazed over with acceptance and misery, Fine’s disgust shifted to anger. It boiled within him like molten lead.

All of this.

Over a foal.

The thought brought his focus back, and her glanced around the room. A makeshift, old, damaged crib sat in the corner of the room. Mind numb, he approached it. There, half-buried under a blanket, lay a tiny little lump of filly. She couldn’t have been more than a few weeks old. She stared up at him with big, uncomprehending purple eyes, her tiny horn just visible beneath a mess of dark violet mane. She shared her mother’s coat color.

“Almost fergot the kid.”

Fine barely gave the stallion at his side a glance. The pony reeked of sweat and sex and blood. The desire to stick a blade through his throat was strong, but Fine ignored it; he wasn’t about to go picking a fight against six ponies.

No… he’d deal with those bastards later, in the manner of an Archon.

Fine lifted the filly from the crib, cradling her in one leg. She batted at his talisman with a giggle.

The mare must have heard the sound, for she abruptly began to squirm once more beneath the stallion currently rutting her. “P-please…” Her voice was hoarse from the screams, barely amounting to a whisper. “S-spare my little Ammy. Please…”

Fine sat and raised his hoof as the stallion climaxed inside her. “Enough.” None argued; they’d all had their way with her multiple times as it was. She made no attempt to move as he approached her, fresh tears forming rivers down her soiled cheeks. Her face and mane were covered in semen, dried and otherwise.

She trembled on the floor, whispering pleas of mercy for her child. Fine glanced at the husband, but Jewel Hoof stared at the scene with the gaze of the broken. Fine knelt before the mare and displayed the foal. “What is her name?”

The mare tried to move her legs to reach for the filly, but they’d been broken by the overzealous rapists. Through a sob, she managed to whisper, “A-Amethyst Star. Please… please don’t hurt her…”

“I won’t.” He brought little Amethyst closer to her mother’s face, and the mare nuzzled the filly. Some of the white gunk on her face got on the foal, who giggled. The mare sobbed when she realized what she’d done. He waited for her to say something, perhaps a goodbye or some last words, but she did not. At last, he stepped back.

When he looked up, he saw the brutes were already pouring the contents of the cans they’d been carrying before onto Jewel Hoof. It was oil.

Fine glanced to the closest stallion. “She doesn’t need to watch.”

The stallion shrugged. “If you say so.” He leaned down to grasp the mare’s throat and began to squeeze. She gasped and squirmed, but her movements were sluggish with weariness.

With a grimace, Fine summoned one of his aural swords and thrust it forward, piercing the mare’s skull. The stallion jumped back with a cry; the blade had almost got his leg. Fine sucked down a deep breath, letting his anger simmer beneath the surface; the mare's convulsions ended. A single dark glance was all it took to silence the bastard before he could complain.

Fine turned his attention to Jewel Hoof just in time to see one of the stallions drop a match. The room lit up in an orange glow, and Jewel Hoof found the last bit of energy needed to shriek. Fine watched as the stallion, too broken to even run, became a living inferno. The brutes who had performed his dark deed for him left, laughing amongst themselves. Fine didn’t move.

He stared. He loathed. He simmered and cursed under his breath and sobbed for his villainy. When Jewel Hoof finally stopped moving, Fine turned and vomited, as if that were the final thing he needed for the sickness within him to be completed.

He shuffled out the door, tears streaming down his cheeks. He collapsed in the hall and clutched the foal close to his chest. He considered using one of those aural swords on himself. He probably should. Or maybe he should jump in the flames and burn like Jewel Hoof.

The sound of a yawn touched his ears. He looked down to find Amethyst snuggling up to him, eyes heavy and a small smile on her lips.










November 25, C.Y. 989
Canterlot Castle


Celestia peered at the report floating before her, her expression stern. Fine sat opposite her, staring into the shimmering golden light of her horn and fantasizing about snapping it off. Between them, Jewel Hoof’s horn and his bride’s pinion lay across one another on Celestia’s desk. Fine hadn’t said a word since arriving fifteen minutes ago with his report, nor had he reacted when she told him to wait while she read it.

At last the glow of the horn died. The fog of Fine’s thoughts faded as the report dropped to the table, and he found Celestia’s eyes upon him. “This is good, Fine Crime. You did as you were meant to.”

Fine said nothing. He felt no anger or sadness or fear. He just felt… empty.

Celestia leaned forward, her gaze piercing. “There are two things I want to know. First, why did you choose to work with Fancy Pants – a known enemy of the crown – instead of using Archons for the job?”

Fine didn’t have to think on his answer. “Getting Fancy to control the slums will make things a little less chaotic down there. Makes keeping control of the place easier; less risk of riots and the like.”

She considered his reply, tapping a hoof to her chin. “And how did you convince him to help you on something like this?”

“It wasn’t easy,” Fine admitted. “Took a lot of talking. I convinced him that hurting two ponies to gain the power to aid all the slum bums was a good trade, although I know he won’t be sleeping well for a few weeks.” Nor would Fine.

“Hmm… I approve.” There was no smile on Celestia’s face. “The other thing, which is the one thing you left out. Care to tell me anything?” She waited for Fine to speak; he did not. “What happened to the foal?”

For the first time since entering the room, Fine reacted; he flinched. He worked his lips a bit, thinking on the response he’d prepared for her. “You said nothing about how the foal should be treated in your instructions, so I took my own path.”

Celestia’s stern gaze didn’t falter. “Answer the question directly, Fine.”

Another flinch. “I… sent her away. The foal will be raised in an orphanage far from Canterlot.”

The princess’s eyebrow rose. “And what was the point of that specific decision?”

He recited the answer in his mind yet again, buying time by tapping the knife around his neck. Thank the Goddess for her choice of phrasing! “You wanted Jewel Hoof to be an example. His daughter will be a living one. Her family tragedy won’t remain a secret for long; she will grow up with the knowledge that her parents died because of her, and everypony that cares to will know it. I gave her something special from the royal alchemist to make sure she never forgets what she saw.”

At last, Celestia’s gaze melted. She smiled. Fine had come to learn to never trust the princess’s smile, but he could have sworn this one appeared the most genuine he’d ever seen. “Very good, Fine. You’ve far exceeded my expectations.”

Fine blinked. “You mean… you wanted me to send her away?”

“Oh, no.” Celestia giggled, a sound which sent a shiver down his spine. “I expected you to leave her rotting in the slums, to grow up amongst thieves and murderers and the mentally depraved. This, however, is far better.”

He cocked his head and chewed his lip. “I don’t understand.”

Celestia pressed her hooves together and leaned back, her eyes going to the ceiling in an innocent pose. “Fine, did you really think I neglected to include Amethyst Star from your orders?”

Fine thought on this admission, rubbing his mane back. Realization dawned upon him and his eyes widened. “The foal was the test all along.”

“Very good!” Celestia grinned and nodded. “You spared her, and then you told me what you thought I wanted to hear. You wanted me to think that you were planning things with her misery involved. We both know that’s not really the case, but it also wasn’t a lie. You told me one inevitability of her life, but painted it as your reason for doing it when in reality you just wanted to make sure I didn’t cancel your good intentions.”

He gaped at her, knowing that there could be no denying her claims. “Y-you… Was I so obvious?”

Celestia smirked. “I’ve been playing this game for centuries, Fine Crime; you’re going to have to work harder than that if you want to pull one over on me. You do have talent, though. At any rate, you passed.”

“Passed?” Fine’s mind reeled and he wobbled, although that may have been the lack of sleep. “B-but… I let the foal get away. ‘Let’ nothing, I arranged for her to escape this place!”

“Which is good!” She chuckled and reached over to pat his cheek; Fine was too dumbstruck to be disgusted by the physical contact. “Oh, don’t give me that look. This shows that despite all the horrible things I’m making you do, you’re still trying to be a good pony. You’re resisting, Fine. That’s exactly what I need in a Mane Archon. I’m really looking forward to the final test.”

Fine swallowed the lump in his throat and refused to point out that he was terrified of the prospect. “Has anypony ever told you that you are very scary?”

“Only every Mane Archon who came before you.” Celestia giggled and waved to the door, which opened to her magic. “Now go on, get some rest. Take a day or two off. I’ll let you know when I’m ready to give you the major duties of your title.”

He stumbled away, still trying to take in all that he’d just learned.

“Oh, and Fine?”

He looked back over his shoulder to find Celestia grinning his way.

“Congratulations.”
	
> Book I — Fine Crime: My Little Monster
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------




This is neato! Fleurry gave me this awesome-cool quill that never runs out of ink and writes down everything I say. I could say ‘sassafras’ and— look look, it wrote it! Sassafras sassafras sassafras! I wonder how many words it knows. Let’s find out!

Chimichanga. Albatross. Balloons! Party favors? Cake cake cake! Jumping Jacks. Zap-Apple Jam. Incision. Cherrychanga! Streamers? Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious! Ooooh, it’s gooooood. Let’s see… slaughter. Laughter. Master? Monster. Monster-vonster-bo-bonster! Claw… uh… oh, vivisect! Hold still, you’re giving me some ideas. Oh, scream, that’s a good one! Blood, cut… what’s a harder word for cut? A-ha, excision! Oh, that’s some good inspiration there. Let’s see… spleen, lungs, heart, eye, tongue, liver, lower intestine—









It’s not my fault, okay? If he didn’t want me to lose my quill he shouldn’t have let me cut him open. I mean really, how was I supposed to know stomach acid would damage the thing? Besides, he didn’t knock. Rude! But Fleurry gave me another after I promised to clean up the mess, and she promised she’d make this place off-limits to castle staff so that I wouldn’t be disturbed. Which is good, because I get distracted easily.

I’ll have to ask Uncle Fine if they can wash the blood off the paper. Oh, I hope he doesn’t get mad! He said this book was super important.

I have to make Uncle Fine happy. He’s always working so hard and making him smile isn’t easy. Like how right after I was born…

I don’t want to remember that. I think I better stop here.

—unsigned, presumed Surprise the Pegasus, Book of Shadows XLVIII

May 13, C.Y. 1007












December 10, C.Y. 989
Undisclosed location in the Appleachian Mountains


Fine pulled the curtain aside and watched the light snowfall. The carriage rocked wildly along the largely unused path, the trees and mountains hidden from view thanks to the darkness. He leaned back in his seat and thought on his orders again. His presence here was nothing short of confusing. He’d been the Mane Archon – in the same capacity as Hoofknife had been – for a mere two weeks. That his first major command from Celestia was a mere gopher job mystified him. He couldn’t complain, seeing as he already knew what kind of job she could have given him, but it was still odd.

The ride had been long and quiet, bumps aside. The air had grown thin with altitude and the trees were spread out at this point, far from the thick foliage at the hoof of the mountains. The road barely qualified as such, largely due to the need for it to remain untouched by regular ponies. Had Fine not known ahead of time about the team that walked the path on a monthly basis clearing major obstacles, he’d find it a minor miracle the road was usable at all. Still a rough ride, though; they wanted the road passable, not comfortable.

At last the carriage rolled to a stop. Fine adjusted his knife and pushed open the door, not interested in waiting for his drivers to do it for him. Stepping out into the snow, he took a look at his surroundings; nothing but darkness, sparse trees and rock. He could see what appeared to be a steep drop just within visibility. He shivered in the cold and tugged the collar of his jacket up against the wind.

One of the drivers, a red earth pony with a wild orange mane, approached him while the other worked on pulling the torch from the carriage. “If you’ll follow me, sir?”

Fine nodded and let the mare lead him towards the drop. They paused by the road and waited for the other mare – a green earth pony with a brown mane – to join them with the torch. They walked along the cliffside, Fine occasionally glancing at the seemingly bottomless darkness below. Most ponies would have been nervous at such a sight. Fine found it curious at best. The mare with the torch didn’t seem so excited about it, keeping well away from the edge.

They eventually came upon a slope going along the side of the cliff, which they carefully descended. It was wide enough for three ponies to walk side-by-side, but the uneven ground, low visibility and occasional gust of wind convinced them to walk single file without even having to discuss the subject. The green mare all but pressed her body against the rocky wall of the cliff. Fine used his magic to take the torch from her; one less thing for her to fret over.

The incline twisted and turned around the cliff for a while, occasionally doubling back beneath where they’d already walked. Fine had no way to tell the time in the dark, but he guessed that they’d been walking an hour by the time they reached the bottom. There was a lone pine tree standing beside the cliff, and the red mare knocked on it as if it were a door.

Silence greeted them, save for the biting wind. Fine adjusted his collar again and glanced down the steep cliff once more. Still nothing but darkness below. How far up were they?

His ears perked to the sound of a bird somewhere above them.

“Sounds like a woodlark,” the red mare said.

“I-In Equestria?” the other asked, her eyes flitting between the tree and the cliff. “More like a crane.”

“Whatever you say.”

Fine listened to the exchange in stoic silence, lifting his hoof to the green mare’s shoulder. She gave him a brief, grateful look before turning her attention back to the darkness.

A crunch filled the air, making all three ponies flinch at the abrupt sound. With much grinding and shaking, the big boulder by the tree began to rise up the cliff. Fine couldn’t help but smile; it was a pretty good illusion, that rock. He might have thought differently if he’d seen it in the bright daylight, but for now he was pleased with the craftsmanship.

A dark passage lay behind the boulder, which the three quickly filed into. The rock began to descend, and they waited quietly for it to hit the bottom and enshroud the trio in darkness. A moment’s pause, then a lamp ignited from a hook on the ceiling. Fine peered at his surroundings, easily making out holes in the walls where some kind of trap undoubtedly lay, just waiting to be triggered. No poisoned arrows or gas or flames this time, though; the wall opposite the boulder slid down, revealing a tall, thin pegasus in a blue officer’s uniform. He had a face that would have fit in perfectly amongst the rocks outside.

The pony turned his black face directly to Fine Crime. “The Mane Archon, I presume?”

“That would be me.” Fine stepped forward and bumped the stallion’s waiting hoof. “Here to pick up Celestia’s asset.”

“Patient Practice, Head of Security. Welcome to the House of Eyes.” He turned to the mares and gestured down a long hall. “You two can wait in the visitor’s lobby until we’re done. Hot coffee, hot chocolate, food, feel free to whatever you like. Don’t try the pepper balls from Nildia unless you really like your food hot.” He turned and gestured to Fine. “Shall we?”

They walked through a wood-paneled corridor, past a guard booth where four burly ponies watched them with undisguised scrutiny. At Patient’s nod, the guard at the window pressed a button under the desk, unlocking the door before him.

“Y’know, I used to be an Archon.”

Fine nodded as they passed through a large room and made for an elevator. “Retired three years ago. Busted knees after a long fall, ended your field career.”

Patient looked back with a curious expression. “You looked up my record?”

“I like to know who I’m working with.” He grimaced as he recalled scouring the archives back in Canterlot. “Couldn’t find much about your inmate, though. Just a name and a list of crimes.”

The stallion nodded as he punched a button on the elevator, which began to rise. “Hoofknife wanted the records on all the major research centers to be contained at the centers themselves to minimize the risk of said records being uncovered.”

“I’m going to fix that,” Fine said, tapping his knife as he scowled at the wall. “I need better access. I’m planning to set up a magical storage method for more reliable information delivery. Not sure how to do it yet.”

“If you can make it work, it’ll be worth it,” Patient admitted. “I remember having hell trying to get reliable information just because of the hoofwork required to get the files I needed for a mission. Talk about a mess.”

“Been there, done that.” The elevator stopped, and Fine followed Patient out. They were now in a long corridor of natural stone lined with white, metal doors. Fine didn’t bother to examine the cells as he passed; he had no interest in knowing what these researchers were doing to their inmates. Knowing Celestia, it probably wasn’t something for the betterment of ponykind.

“So what can you tell me about the prisoner?”

“You’ll be surprised.” The officer pulled out a small notebook from a pocket of his uniform and began flipping pages between steps. “She’s young, and I mean young. They caught her four months ago, amongst the bodies of her victims and coated in blood. Doesn’t deny that she did it, and bucking terrified of doing it again. Which she has, several times since she got here.”

Fine cocked an eyebrow. “Is that supposed to make sense?”

Patient paused before one of the doors, sat and flipped a little faster through his notebook. “Ever heard of a Bloodmane?”

Fine’s breath caught in his throat. He stared at the officer, trying to process what he’d just heard. Patient didn’t notice until he found the page he was after and glanced up. “Uh… you okay?”

“Open it.”

The stallion titled his head but did as he was told, pressing buttons on a panel by the door. A small pink crystal above the panel began to glow and blinked when he touched it; the sound of a lock touched Fine’s ears.

Fine reached up to stop Patient from opening the door, looking the officer in the eye. “How long since her last kill?”

It seemed Patient understood the situation, for he stepped back as if Fine were a viper prepared to strike. “Six days.”

“Three weeks between?”

Patient audibly swallowed, his eyes wide. “G-give or take a day or two.”

Fine nodded, his eyes on the door handle. “Any experiments performed on her?”

Patient shook his head. “Not yet. The researchers didn’t think she was old enough to withstand the experiments.” He hesitated and averted his gaze. “Not out of the kindness of their hearts, the bastards.”

Sucking in a deep breath, Fine nodded and pushed open the door. The interior was white and padded. The first thing he spotted was the urinal in the corner. Not seeing any sign of the prisoner, he carefully stepped inside. No sign of her against the wall or on the bed. The lighting was painfully bright, created by some kind of gemstone in the ceiling.

She had to be in the corner he couldn’t see, the one the door blocked. Not knowing if the prisoner was dangerous, Fine took no chances; he turned to face the door and stepped back, the knife at his throat encased in a preparatory magic aura. Reasonably sure he could defend himself, he sidestepped… and his jaw dropped.

It was a filly, a tiny ball of pink. She was huddled in the corner, face buried in her hooves and shaking all over. She was so… small.

For a long time, he could only stare. When he at last managed to move, he turned his eyes on Patient, who was watching him with head low and ears folded back. Fine’s lips worked, but at last he managed to silently mouth “How old?”

Patient mouthed back, “Seven.”

Seven. The number pierced Fine’s heart like a knife; he’d been the same age for his first time. He could still vividly recall his uncle’s face as the blade found his heart. If things had happened slightly differently – if he’d not had the presence of mind to flee from the authorities – would he have ended up in a padded cell like this one all those years ago?

What was Celestia planning to do with this foal? Something she wanted him privy to, no doubt. Was this… some kind of message?

Fine swallowed, soothing his dry throat. He gestured to Patient to remain in the hall and began to approach the filly. Slowly, so very slowly, he crouched down a few paces away. “Hello there.”

The filly gasped and seemed to squeeze deeper into the corner. “Go away!”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not.” She sobbed into her fetlock. “D-don’t wanna hurt you.”

“You won’t.”

“I will!” The filly shook her head frantically, her straight mane hiding her face. “I’ll m-make you bleed. D-don’t like blood. Please, go away.”

He shushed her, crawling just a little closer and reaching out. “I know. It’s scary. So much blood, so many screams.” He touched her head and she flinched, but she couldn’t move any farther away. He began stroking her neck. “You don’t know why you do it, or why you can’t stop it. You want to, you want to so badly.”

Light blue eyes, bloodshot and shining from tears, peeked through the wall of pink mane. He offered her a sad smile.

“Nopony understands, do they? They tell you it’s not your fault, that you did nothing wrong.” He paused to collect himself, rubbing his own eyes with a fetlock as memories came back like a wound with the scab ripped off. “But you feel wrong, don’t you? They don’t know the horrible, terrible pleasure of it, the pleasure that makes you feel sick and hate yourself afterwards. You can’t help thinking that all the monsters out there – the creature under the bed, the boogie pony in the woods – they’re nothing. You feel like you’re the worst monster of all.”

A tear fell down his cheek. Fine was short of breath. The filly finally sat up, staring at him with wide eyes.

“And all you want to do is disappear.” He stared at his hooves. “Go far away so that you’ll never hurt anypony again. M-maybe if you didn’t exist, then the nightmare would be over. But you always wake up… and…”

The filly barreled into him, clutching her small legs around his neck and sobbing. He ignored his own tears and held her close, rubbing her back and listening dutifully as she let it all out. He sat up and cradled her in both legs, his breathing slow and controlled to keep himself from breaking any further down that he already had.

He remained there for some time, wallowing in his bloody memories and waiting for the poor filly to recover. When her crying was at last reduced to a few mere sniffles, he patted her head and asked, “Can you tell me your name?”

She sat back in his hold and looked up at him, face streaked by dried tears. She wasn’t smiling, but at least she was calmer. “I… I’m Pinkie Pie.”

“Hello, Pinkie.” He smiled. “I’m Fine.”

“Hello, Fine.” She hunched down and rubbed her tiny hooves together. “Are y-you… a monster too?”

He huffed a weak chuckle. “Yes, Pinkie, I’m a monster too.”

Her eyes went to her hooves, prompting her mane to fall over half her face. “Are… are they going to lock you in here with me?”

He smiled and nuzzled her. “No, my little pony; I’m taking you out of here.”

She looked up, eyes wide. “B-but.. but I might hurt somepony.”

Fine cocked his head. “Do you like it here?”

Pinkie shook her head. “They’re not nice here, but if I leave… I don’t want to hurt ponies anymore. Mommy and Daddy… They… Th-they wouldn’t want me to…” Her little lip trembled and tears reformed in her eyes.

A distinct horror filled Fine. He swallowed down the nasty taste in his mouth and shook off the sensation, raising the filly so he could look into her eyes. “Somepony very important wants to meet you, Pinkie. How would you like to see Princess Celestia?”

“The princess?” Pinkie gaped at him, then covered her mouth with both hooves and frantically shook her head. “I don’t wanna hurt the princess!”

Fine chuckled at that. “Pinkie, if you could hurt the princess I would be very impressed. I promise you, there’s no way you could hurt her.”

Pinkie kept her hooves over her lips, eyes as big as saucers. “Are you sure? Really sure?”

“I personally watched the princess defeat an entire army by herself. Yes, Pinkie, I’m really really sure that you won’t hurt her.”

The filly leaned forward, her voice shaking. “W-will you stay with me? All the way there?”

“Yes.” Fine offered his warmest smile. “I promise.”

Pinkie chewed her lip and glanced at the open door. Fine could almost see the gears turning in her tiny head. At last, she nodded. “Okay, I’ll go. Maybe the princess can fix me. Can she fix me?”

Fine managed to hold his smile, but only barely. Though his heart ached, he kept his voice as steady as he could. “I hope so, Pinkie.

“I really do.”










December 14, C.Y. 989
The Village of Mellow Falls


“That’ll be eight bits.”

Fine hoofed over the funds before taking the bags in his magic, floating them alongside the one already in his possession. “Much obliged.” Tonight’s dinner acquired, he left the small restaurant and made his way back to the inn. Night had long ago fallen and the world was quiet. The stars twinkled overhead and Fine made no attempt to hurry, enjoying the darkness and the sound of the snow crunching beneath his hooves.

It was truly a pleasant evening, even with the chill of winter. The little village was well decorated for the coming of Hearth’s Warming, with holly wreaths and red ribbons and brightly-lit lamps everywhere he looked. Fine had nothing for or against the holiday and had to admit that, for such a quaint little backwater, the villagers had done a great job decorating. It seemed Mellow Falls was full of festive ponies. Almost every soul he passed offered a grin and a “Happy Hearth’s Warming!” greeting.

Fine tried to remind himself that he had nothing to be happy about, but the pleasantness of the town was infectious and he was smiling as he walked through the inn’s front door. Inside was a lively scene as a horde of earth ponies chattered around frosted mugs and seasonal food. There was laughter, music and no shortage of good cheer. Fine had been nervous at first, seeing as he was a unicorn in what was clearly an earth pony town, but the racial tensions of much of Equestria didn’t mean much here. That or everypony was in too good of a holiday mood to care.

In either case, it made Fine’s life easier, and he wasn’t about to complain. He made his way up the stairs, bags floating over his shoulder. At the top he found his two mare drivers huddled against the wall and appearing very interested in one another. They were putting on such a good show that Fine wondered if it wasn’t an act after all, especially considering it was their idea.

“Ladies. Anything interesting, other than one another?” He levitated one of the bags closer to them as he approached.

“Not a thing, boss. Filly’s quiet as a mouse in there.” The green mare – Roxy, he now knew – took the bag in her mouth.

“And nopony’s even come upstairs since you left,” the red one – Fire Fox – said. “You get extra pickles on mine like I asked?”

“I ordered it,” he said as he walked by for his room. “Whether you got it is up to the cooks. You two go have ‘fun,’ I think I can take it from here.”

Fire Fox winked and followed Roxy to their room next door. “I’ll take that as an order. Fun shall be had! Hope the walls are thick.” She stuck her tongue out at his raised eyebrow and giggled as they disappeared into their room. Fine couldn’t resist a small smile; compared to how anxious and serious they’d been around him when this trip started, now they were downright playful. It was good to know he could handle his job and be friendly with those under him. Hoofknife had never been good at that.

He entered his room, closing the door quietly behind him. He glanced around, taking in the small but cozy space and the big bed. In the corner was a simple desk, on which a pile of scrolls and letters lay; Fine’s work from earlier in the evening. He smirked and went to put his two bags down on the desk, brushing aside the paperwork to make room.

He turned about and surveyed the place a second time. No pink filly. He pretended to keep looking, making his way to the bed. He stopped right beside it and raised his eyes to the ceiling.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think there was a monster under my bed.”

A pink filly burst from under the bed and wrapped her hooves around his leg. “You’re back!”

He grinned and patted her head. “Of course I am. I said I would be.”

Pinkie looked up at him with a hurt expression. “B-but you were gone for so long!”

“Only for an hour.” He lifted her in his magic and set her on his back. “C’mon, I brought some food.”

“An hour? That’s like… like forever!” She hugged the back of his neck as he approached the desk. “I was scared.”

“Fire and Roxy were just outside.”

Pinkie only tightened her hold. “I could have hurt them…”

Fine paused to consider that. Should he say what he wanted to? What was worse, knowing that the next vision was inevitable, or not knowing when or even if it would come next? He glanced back, but couldn’t see Pinkie due to her hold on his neck. “Pinkie, do you know what a week is?”

The filly pulled her face out of his mane and snorted. “Your mane smells funny.”

“That’s because it’s dyed.” He picked her up with his magic and set her on the desk. “Now, do you know what a week is?”

“Seven days.” Her muzzle wrinkled up and she rubbed it as if it itched. “What do you mean, ‘died?’ Can a mane be hurt?”

He chuckled and shook his head. “It means I changed its color. My mane is normally red, but I make it black.”

“Oh.” She cocked her head a bit too far to the side and nearly fell over, legs waving as she righted herself. “Why?”

He grinned and flicked his mane at her; it tickled her muzzle and made her giggle. “Because my special gift is hiding, and having a black mane makes that easier. Now—” he sat and leaned forward, “—do you know how long it’s been since you last hurt somepony?”

Her smile collapsed and she bowed her head, her mane forming a wall between her eyes and him. “N-no…”

“Ten days.” He tilted her chin up and tried to smile for her. “That means you have another eleven days before you’ll want to again. We’ll meet the princess before that time.”

“Eleven days?” She thought on this, not losing her long face. “H-how do you know?”

He tapped his chest. “Because I’m a monster too, remember? I’ve been a monster for a lot longer than you, and I know how it works.”

She bowed her head once more and turned her face away, fully concealing it behind her mane. “I don’t wanna hurt anypony.”

“Neither do I.” He petted her mane as his magic opened one of the two bags on the desk. “Let’s eat, hmm?” A pair of oatburgers rose from the bags, one much smaller than the other.

“I’m not hungry.”

“Neither am I.”

Pinkie was silent for a while, but at last turned around and took the small burger in her hooves. She ate slowly, her mouth moving as if on auto-pilot. Fine watched her far-off stare, the burger dry and tasteless on his tongue. Silence ruled the room and he was loathe to interrupt it.

Pinkie set her half-finished meal down and felt at her stomach. Fine wondered if he wasn’t about to have a small mess to clean, but the filly sucked down a deep breath and seemed to shake off whatever had come over her. She looked up at him with big, hopeful eyes. “Do you think the princess can fix me?”

Fine froze mid-chew. Four days he’d been waiting for that question to come up again, and he still hadn’t figured out how to answer. “I… uh…”

Eyes going to her hooves, Pinkie kicked at the table and muttered a half-hearted, “Momma said not to talk around food.”

He dutifully swallowed. “Pinkie… I…”

“She can’t, can she?” The filly sighed and looked away. “She can’t fix me.”

Fine sighed and began stroking her neck. “I don’t know. Pinkie, I don’t even know why she wants to see you.”

Pinkie sat and pushed against his hoof, almost like a cat. “M-maybe she wants to be a hero.”

He cocked his head. “A hero?”

“That’s what Celestia is, isn’t she?” Pinkie raised a hoof to stare at it. “Princess Celestia, Hero of Equestria. I’m a monster. Heroes… hurt… monsters…”

Fine thought his heart might have snapped in two. Before he knew what he was doing, he’d grabbed the filly up and was hugging her to his chest. His legs shook and it took everything he had not to start crying.

“You’re not a monster, Pinkie.”

“But—”

“You’re not a monster!” He tightened his hold, her tiny gasp seeming disproportionately loud in the quiet room. “You’re just a poor, unlucky filly. Celestia’s not going to hurt you because you are not a monster.”

Pinkie squirmed in his grasp. “Y-you’re hurting…”

“Sorry!” He held her at leg’s length, barely noticing the tear trickling down his cheek. “Sorry, Pinkie.” He stared at her sad eyes, her deep frown, her face so empty of energy. Another crack ran through his heart. “I’m so, so sorry.”

She squirmed and tried to reach for him. “Please don’t cry. It’s not your fault! I don’t mind being hugged.”

He smiled, knowing it was a weak display. “You’re a good kid, Pinkie Pie, and don’t let anypony tell you otherwise.”

She rubbed one hoof over the other and bowed her head once again. “Am not.”

He set her down and tapped her on the head. “Don’t argue with your elders. Now… you think you can finish that burger off?”

She felt at her stomach, glanced at the burger and blanched. “I don’t think so.”

“Well, that’s okay.” Fine levitated some paper napkins from one of the bags and used it to wipe her face, earning him a frown from a scrunched-up muzzle. “What? Not sharing the bed with a dirty filly.”

She pointed at his chest. “What about you?”

He glanced down and saw that he had ketchup and a bit of lettuce in his fur. He chuckled and wiped it off. “That’s your fault.”

“Is not.”

“Is too.”

“Is not.”

“Is too.”

Pinkie crossed her hooves and stuck her tongue out at him. He returned the favor and crossed his eyes for good measure, his effort rewarded with a small giggle. “Now, before you go to bed…” He pulled the remaining bag closer to them. It was smaller than the original and decorated with a mix of colors. “How much do you know about the Mare in the Moon?”

The filly tilted her head at the bag, then looked up at him with an uncertain gaze. “Umm… the big shadow on the moon?”

He nodded. “Do you know what she is?” Pinkie shook her head. “She’s a dream weaver.”

“Weave?” Pinkie raised her hooves and studied them, wiggling them a few times in imitation of something. She looked up at Fine again, confusion plastered on her face. “Like Momma with her cloth?”

“Not quite.” The bag opened and Fine pulled out the reason it had taken him an hour to get supper. It was a wooden ponyquin, with a solid body and legs that dangled from strings. The head and wings bobbed on springs and its mane and tail were wool. It had a long rubber horn and a dark blue coat of paint.

The doll floated to Pinkie, it’s little legs clacking together, and Pinkie gaped at it. “For me?” He nodded, and she took it tentatively in her hooves. The head bobbled as she turned the doll to look at its every angle.

“I noticed you have nightmares.”

She abruptly clutched the doll close, hunching over it and avoiding his gaze.

“It’s okay.” He petted her mane once more with a patient smile. “Nopony can blame you. I had a lot of nightmares when I was a colt.” Best not mention he still did. “That’s why I’m giving you the doll. It’s her.”

She peeked through her mane with wide eyes. “The Mare in the Moon?”

He nodded, his smile broadening a touch. “If you keep her close, she’ll watch over you and help you have better dreams. That’s her job, you know.” He had no intention of telling her about the real Mare in the Moon, either; the filly had enough trouble without knowing her doll also represented the Queen of Nightmares.

He wondered if he’d get to meet her. Now that he thought on it, it seemed very likely. One more thing to not look forward to.

“What’s her name?”

He blinked, taken out of his reverie by the question. “Name?”

Pinkie nodded, still holding the doll close. “It’s not really ‘The Mare in the Moon,’ is it?”

His smile came back. “It’s Luna.”

“Luna.” Pinkie held the doll out, its head bobbing and legs clacking. She studied its wooden, blue face. “Will you help my dreams, Luna?” She turned her head and lifted her ear attentively. After a second she yawned and clutched the doll close again. “I hope so. I don’t like the bad dreams.”

Fine stroked her mane one last time before lifting her up in his magic. “Come on, little miss. Bed time.”

Pinkie made no attempt to argue as he tucked her under the covers, but when he turned for the desk he heard her shifting to face him. “Are you gonna work?”

He paused, the pleading in her tone like glue on his hooves. He glanced back and saw her watching him, half-buried in covers and only her eyes and mane visible around the doll. They stared into him, big and blue and oh-so full of hope. He forced himself to look to the desk, at the small pile of scrolls and letters. He’d already canceled the spell, so he’d receive no more tonight. He had mission reports to review, status updates, orders to issue…

Barely holding back a groan, he used his magic to blow out the lamp above the desk. “No, Pinkie. Not tonight.” He turned back to the bed and slipped under the covers. She nestled against his chest before he even had a chance to settle, burying her face in his fur with a tiny smile.

Fine brushed a hoof through her mane and cursed himself.

If only he knew what Celestia had planned for the foal…










December 17, C.Y. 989
The Everfree Forest


Pinkie’s quiet voice broke the silence. “I don’t like it here.”

Fine followed behind Fire Fox, carefully picking his way over the snow-covered ground. “I know.”

“It’s scary.”

He smirked. “I’ve seen worse.”

She shivered and tugged at his mane. “Do we have to be here?”

“Eeyup.” Fine climbed carefully over a fallen log, then turned to help Roxy across. The earth pony clearly didn’t need it, but seemed to appreciate the offer anyway. Their breaths rose as steam in the chill air.

Pinkie grumbled something under her breath. “Why’s the princess way out here, anyway?”

“I have no idea.” He glanced back to see Pinkie pouting between his shoulder blades, her hooves crossed as she sulked. She wore a small brown coat, purchased in nearby Ponyville. He kept his smile in check until he was safely looking forward once more.

His smile abruptly faded, for they were now in a small clearing. In the center, open like the mouth of a great worm, was a substantial hole in the ground. Celestia’s chariot was just visible behind the bare trees on the opposite side of the clearing, and a pair of pegasus guardsponies stood at attention by the hole.

They saluted as Fine approached. “Sir, the princess said to join her inside.”

Pinkie’s little hooves landed on his forehead as she worked for a better view. “A-are we going down there?”

“We are indeed.” He turned to Roxy and Fire Fox. “You two should probably stay out here. Why don’t you show our friends here your clever deception technique?” The two mares shared wicked grins as he turned back to the hole.

“Do we have to?”

Fine used his magic to pick Pinkie up and hold her with one leg, all so he could look her in the eye. “Don’t you worry, little miss, I’m right here.” Yet even as he smiled for her, his stomach was cutting flips. He so desperately didn’t want to proceed, but Celestia’s orders had been clear. He knew he couldn’t resist the instinctual, magical force that was already tugging at his legs.

Somehow, he managed to hold back. He wouldn’t be able to for long, but he fought the urge and watched Pinkie, who was hiding behind her mane once more and staring at the cave. She nestled against his chest and shivered. “The princess will be nice?”

Goddess, but he hoped so! “Of course she will.”

Pinkie looked up at him with those big eyes he wished weren’t so filled with hope. Why the buck did Celestia make him deliver this foal? If she did anything to Pinkie, he’d…

He’d what? Give her dirty looks? Think murderous thoughts? There wasn’t another option, and that made him feel all the more pathetic. His legs were starting to wobble with the need to enter the hole.

“Okay.” Pinkie puffed out her chest, squared her small shoulders and stared down into the darkness. “I’m ready.”

“Good girl.” Fine breathed a sigh of relief as he at last let his legs take over. He began to descend, only mildly surprised to find a shallow incline just inside. The path curved along in a steady circle, the world never going completely dark. Soon he felt a wave of warmth come over him. It could only be due to some spell of Celestia's.

It was only a few seconds before they entered the cavern. It was broad and tall, but not empty; the place was filled with a  variety of plants, some of which literally glowed. It was bright enough to make most of the cavern visible, including the wide, mirror-smooth pool at the center of the cavern. There, staring at the water with an intense focus, was Princess Celestia.

Pinkie gasped. “Is that her?”

Fine barely managed to keep his grimace at bay. “That’s her.”

“She looks so… pretty.” The filly gained a broad smile. “She must be a good pony.”

Fine kept his jaw clamped, determined not to respond to that declaration. He busied himself with getting Pinkie out of her coat, for now it was too warm for such a thing. He kept his distance from the princess; though her horn wasn’t glowing, he suspect disturbing her concentration right now would be a bad idea.

Pinkie had other plans. “What’s she looking at?”

“Hush.”

Celestia’s eyes flicked their direction and a soft smile formed on her lips. “Hello, Fine Crime. I see you’ve completed your mission.”

Fine sat and readjusted his hold on Pinkie, who squirmed against his grasp. “One filly, as requested. You wouldn’t mind telling me what you intend to do with her?” Please let it not be something barbaric. He eyed the pool and hoped he wasn’t about to see Pinkie drowned in it.

“But of course.” Celestia finally turned, leaning forward and offering the foal a playful smile. “And you must be Pinkamina.”

Pinkie gasped and bounced as best she could under Fine’s hold. “You know my name. She knows my name!”

The princess laughed – a startlingly pleasant sound compared to what Fine was accustomed to. “Come now, Fine, release the poor thing and let her expend some energy.”

The order was given, and Fine dropped Pinkie before he could register the need. She hit the floor running and within seconds was bouncing circles around the princess. “The princess, the princess, I get to meet the princess!”

Celestia turned her beaming smile on Fine, who was watching her in much the same way a bear observes a predator near his cubs.

He blinked; had he really just made that comparison?

“Was she this energetic all the way over?” Celestia asked as the filly made her tenth lap.

“No,” he confessed, his mixed emotions killing any force his voice might have held. “She was… pretty quiet, actually.”

Pinkie abruptly stopped before Celestia and looked up at her with big blue eyes. “Princess, can you fix me?”

Celestia cocked her head and leaned down, her smile still smooth and elegant. “Fix you? Do you need fixing?”

The filly bowed her head and scuffed the cave floor. “Uh-huh.”

“Well.” Celestia sat up straight once more and looked to Fine, her smile suddenly more like a smirk. “I can certainly try.”

Pinkie squealed and began bouncing laps around her once more. Fine, however, felt a lot more subdued about this idea. He approached slowly, his eyes going from Celestia to the pond. He could sense some kind of lingering magic in those waters. “What are you going to do? Pinkie.” He tapped his hoof, and the filly promptly ran to his side, pressing against his leg with a broad smile and purring like a kitten.

Celestia raised an eyebrow, her smirk broadening. “She likes you, I see.”

Knowing there could be no hiding the truth, Fine merely sighed and nodded. “You didn’t choose me to bring her here for no reason. Please, at least tell me what’s going on.”

“You are correct, of course.” Celestia turned to the pool, her manner serene once more as she stared at the waters. “I discovered this place a few decades ago, and I’ve been trying to unravel its secrets ever since. I think I know enough to try a certain experiment, one for which little Miss Pie is perfectly suited.”

Fine curled his hoof around Pinkie, who was listening with rapt attention. “You mean she’s a test subject. A lab rat?”

“I have every reason to believe she won’t be hurt. If anything, this may be the happiest day of her life, past or future.” She glanced over at Fine’s scowl and sighed. “I know, you find that hard to believe. I’m being sincere this time, Fine.”

Fine glanced at Pinkie, doubt eating away at him. “You’re sure she won’t come to harm?”

“I can’t say with absolute certainty what will happen,” Celestia admitted, turning to him once again, “but I am sure that she will be fine, Fine. Pinkie?” The filly’s ears perked. “Would you come here, please?”

The filly grinned and started to move, but Fine’s leg held her back. She blinked and looked up at him with a questioning gaze.

Celestia raised an eyebrow. “Fine?”

The command was there, even if she didn’t outright say it. With a growl, Fine released Pinkie, who promptly walked for Celestia, albeit at a more subdued pace.

“Thank you.” Celestia beamed at the filly, who sat before her and had to lean way back to get a proper view of the alicorn. “Now, Miss Pie, I am going to do something to you, and it is going to feel a little strange. Tell me, can you swim?”

Pinkie glanced at the smooth surface of the pool, then shook her head. “There was a river near my… my home.” Her ears flattened as she looked at the ground. “Momma said I’m too little to swim with my sisters.”

“That’s okay. I’m going to hold you in my magic, if that’s alright.” Celestia lowered to her knees so she could look the filly in the eye. “I’m going to have to put you under the water, but please don’t be afraid. It will only be for a moment, and you’ll be perfectly safe. I promise.”

Hunched low and chewing her lip, Pinkie eyed the pool. “Is it deep?”

“Yes. I promise not to let go.”

The quietest of whimpers escaped the filly. Her fretting eyes turned to Fine who, despite his anxiety and fast-beating heart, nodded to her. She turned her eyes back to the water.

Her voice was a whisper so low Fine almost didn’t hear it. “I’m not a monster, am I?”

Celestia’s eyes went to Fine, who shook his head with an imploring look. The princess smiled as she turned her attention back to Pinkie. “No, Miss Pie. You are no monster.”

Pinkie gasped and Fine thought he saw a tear run down her cheek. She trembled as she stared at Celestia for a little while. At last she nodded. “O-okay, Princess. I trust you.”

“Thank you, Miss Pie.” Celestia gave her a little nuzzle. “You are a very brave little pony. Are you ready?”

“I… I think so.”

Celestia stood and lifted Pinkie in her magic. As she floated the filly over the pool, Pinkie began to squirm. Her eyes turned to Fine, pleading, imploring, but she didn’t say anything.

“It’s okay, Pinkie,” Celestia called. “We’re right here. I’m going to lower you now.”

Fine watched, heart in his throat, as Pinkie dropped gradually for the surface. He could already see the water shimmering with some unknown magic. “Celestia… what’s going to—”

“Be silent, I must concentrate. Stay right there.”

His lips sealing of their own accord, Fine couldn’t help but think she sounded a lot more like the Celestia he knew at that moment. It wasn’t a comforting notion, but he tried to smile to Pinkie as her hooves touched the water. She pulled her legs up with a yelp. “It’s cold.”

Celestia said nothing and Fine, despite his best attempts to force something out of his throat, did the same.

Pinkie’s body was half-submerged in the pool, which glowed bright enough to illuminate the entire cavern in shifting light. The filly began to squirm. “I-I don’t like this. I’m scared!”

Fine’s legs couldn’t move, or else he’d have stepped closer. His lips remained closed, otherwise he’d have called some reassurance. Pinkie looked to him, her pretty blue eyes wide and her legs kicking beneath the water, and he silently begged Celestia to let him comfort the child. The fact that he couldn’t swim probably wouldn’t have stopped him from diving in.

The water reached Pinkie’s chin and she tilted her head back, breathing in gasps as panic filled her. “P-please, I don’t want to—” The water rose over her face, and she was submerged.

Silence. Horrible, lasting, mind-numbing silence. Fine watched as a pink blob squirmed beneath the mirror-like surface of the pond, his own breath coming in shallow gasps. He looked to Celestia; her eyes were set on the pool with an intense focus, her horn shining with enough brightness to rival the pool’s ethereal glow.

Seconds passed. Panic began to worm it’s way into Fine’s mind as the filly remained submerged. He fought against the enchantment holding him back, silently begged Celestia to pull Pinkie out, yet he didn’t budge an inch. The pink blob thrashed beneath the water, only making his fears that much worse.

She was drowning. She had to be drowning! Fine closed his eyes and strained; his leg began to move forward. Not enough, he wasn’t strong enough! His mouth gradually opened, his jaw aching with the effort. “Ce… le… sti… a…”

The pink shape’s movements slowed. Tears streamed down Fine’s cheeks as he realized what he’d done. All the little talks, all the encouragement, those big blue eyes begging for acceptance. He cursed himself for growing so attached when he had known along that something like this was probable. How could he have let himself raise Pinkie up like that only to cut her down now?

“St-st-stop…”

He closed his eyes against a bright pink flash, a wave of magic coming over him. Splashing met his ears, and when he looked up he saw Pinkie, sputtering and soaked. She broke into sobs as soon as she’d cleared her lungs, hanging limp like a rag in Celestia’s magic.

She wasn’t alone. As Pinkie floated back to the edge of the pool, she was accompanied by a second filly, as white as snow with a curly, blonde mane and tail.

“Come, Fine,” Celestia called, her voice quiet. “Take a look.”

He did, approaching at a trot as he watched Pinkie. The two fillies, one sobbing and the other unconscious, were laid side-by-side as Celestia observed them. Fine knelt down to pet Pinkie’s mane. “Are you okay? I’m so sorry I made you go through that.”

Her sobs reduced to mere hiccups, Pinkie looked up at him. She rubbed her soaked face and pulled away from his touch. “Wh-who are you?”

Fine’s eyes widened.

“W-where’s mommy? I wanna go home!”

Fine, caught between uncertainty and the sting in his chest, looked up to Celestia in search of answers. Though as calm as ever, her raised eyebrows gave away her uncertainty. The princess leaned down to study Pinkie, who shivered and tried to back away from the two adults. “Do you not remember what just happened?”

Pinkie’s eyes darted between them as she trembled, a pool of water forming beneath her and her new… twin? “W-w-where am I? Please, c-can I go home? I want my granny!”

With a sigh, Celestia fired a thin beam of light, which enveloped the filly’s head. She fell asleep almost immediately. “Perhaps her memories have been split as well.”

“What happened?” Fine nudged Pinkie, but she just slept on. He turned his attention to the new arrival, examining her white fur and curly mane… and something else. Using his magic, he pulled on the alien object, which outstretched to reveal itself as a long, thin appendage attached to her side. “What the…”

“Now this is a surprise.” Celestia touched the bony limb tenderly. “I expected many things, but nothing like this.” At Fine’s questioning look, she added, “It’s a wing, Fine. Featherless, but a still a wing. The child is a pegasus.”

The new filly squirmed and yawned, catching their collective attention. She wriggled onto her barrel and stretched. Her eyelids opened, revealing startling violet eyes. They locked on Fine and she grinned. “Hello, Uncle Fine!”

He blinked. “What did you—”

She leapt into him, holding tight to his neck and nuzzling his fur. She was startlingly cold. “Can we play?”

Fine, caught between vexation and kindness, sat back and held her protectively. “Umm… maybe in a little while.” He looked up to Celestia, who was staring at the white foal as if it were an alien. “Could you please explain to me what just happened?”

“Something between a perfect result and an abject failure.” Her eyes flitted between the filly and the sleeping Pinkie. “I used the intrinsic powers of the Mirror Pool to separate the Bloodmane part of Miss Pie’s mind from the rest.”

Fine’s hackles rose and his breath caught. “Y-you mean… this filly is pure Bloodmane?” Celestia nodded, and he release a long, slow breath. He looked down at the tiny pegasus in his hooves, who continued to snuggle against him with a fond smile. He realized that he had a very real monster in his possession. “B-but… why is she a pegasus? Why can’t Pinkie remember me?”

“I anticipated side effects,” Celestia admitted, reaching forward to touch the new filly’s featherless wing, “but this is far beyond my predictions. It is likely that some of Pinkie’s memories were transferred over along with the Bloodmane disorder. As to the wings… your guess is as good as mine.”

“I want to play!” The white Pinkie whined and tried to shake Fine, which she was actually able to do despite her size. “Please?”

“Little one?”

The filly turned to look up at Celestia just as another yellow light struck her, and she promptly fell unconscious on Fine’s shoulder.

Fine looked to Pinkie, then the pool, then at the filly in his arms. His gaze went to Celestia. “You were planning on doing this to me, weren’t you?”

The princess rubbed her chin with a contemplative frown. “It was a possibility, but I didn’t want to do it without running a proper test. I was hoping for faster results, but I think we need to study this new filly for a little while and gauge her behavior. There could be other side effects waiting to make themselves known.”

“A proper test?” Fine scoffed as he adjusted his hold on the filly. “I hardly think you care about my safety.”

“In your case I make an exception.” Celestia gave him a wicked smile. “It’s not easy replacing a Mane Archon from scratch, you know, and I have some big things in mind for you.”

Fine raised an eyebrow. “Thanks, that makes me feel so much better.”

“Control is another issue.” Celestia leveled a frown at the filly. “As much as it would amuse me to unleash a living, breathing embodiment of wanton murder upon the public, my intentions with this project are for something that can be managed and commanded, and as of now there’s no way to know if our little monster fits that bill.”

“ ‘Little monster.’ ” Fine sneered. “You want to weaponize this filly, don’t you? Create a whole army of mindless murderers to further assure your control?”

“Close.” Celestia considered Fine carefully, her scrutiny making him fidget. After a while she nodded as if coming to a decision. “I want you to keep this filly near you in the castle for now. Perhaps she can be of use to the Archons, and that will give us ample opportunity to study her.”

Fine groaned and rubbed his temple. “You want me to play the role of ‘Daddy’ now?”

“Need I remind you that you are a Bloodmane yourself?” Celestia waved dismissively at him. “That makes you the most qualified pony amongst my staff to care for the foal and not end up in a bodybag. You’re also in the best position to make use of what I hope will be some formidable skills, while taking advantage of the Archon’s natural veil of secrecy. And of course—” her smirk returned, “—the filly is already fond of you.”

“Guess I don’t have a choice.” Fine sighed, not looking forward to the months ahead. He looked upon Pinkie, still sleeping soundly between them, and his fear jumped back into his throat. “What about her?”

The princess shrugged. “I don’t care about Miss Pie anymore; she has served her purpose. Leave her here, drown her, send her to an orphanage, whatever you want. I couldn’t care less.”

Fine glared, but she brushed it off and walked by him with an imperious posture. “Deal with Miss Pie, then send our new friend ahead to Canterlot.

“There’s one more thing for the two of us to do here before we head back.”
	
> Book I — Fine Crime: Lawn Ornament
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------




I’m not sure where to start. Uncle Fine told me to start at the beginning, but what’s that mean? My beginning, or his? Dude needs to be more specific.

Screw it, I’ll assume his for now, and I guess that starts with the forest. Now I’ll be honest, I have no idea if what he believes is true or not. I know I’m just a dumb kid, but I ain’t that guli gulla guhli





Gullible. (Thanks, Miss de Lis!)

Why are they making me write this stuff, anyway? It’s not like I have anything important to say. So Uncle Fine saw a statue in the woods. Maybe it’s important, maybe not. Who cares? It doesn’t get me any closer to my goal. It’s just a dumb lawn ornament some stupid noble left out there ages ago.

But it’s important to Uncle Fine. It did get him started on this mad quest, and if it hadn’t I’d have never met Miss de Lis. Heck, I’d probably be in the slums. Or dead.

Maybe I owe that dumb rock more than I thought.

I hope they don’t make me write too many of these things. I have more important stuff to do.

—Gulfstream Dust, Book of Shadows XLVIII

May 14, C.Y. 1007








December 17, C.Y. 989
The Everfree Forest


Fire Fox stared at the unconscious pink filly Fine had given her. “Far away?”

“And far removed,” he added, unable to take his gaze from Pinkie. “No big cities, no major government presence. A nice, small town, preferably with a reputation for friendliness.”

Fire Fox and Roxy – the latter carrying the slumbering white filly – exchanged uncertain looks. “If you say so,” Roxy said. “I think I know a good place. I’ll let you—”

“No.” Fine shot her an alarmed look. “I don’t want to know. I don’t want anypony to know. The farther away from me… from us she is, the better. I never want that filly to see another Archon or even another Royal Guard for the rest of her life.”

Fire Fox shifted and averted her gaze as Fine stared at Pinkie. “Okay, I get it. You want to… uh…”

“Just go.” But when she started to turn away, Fine raised his hoof. “W-wait. Her… her doll. Make sure she has it?”

She nodded, giving him an extra second to brush Pinkie’s mane aside and study her peaceful face. Then she started for the woods, and Fine felt his heart rending.

“What about this one?” Roxy asked, nodding to the foal in her hooves.

Fine rubbed his eyes and turned to examine the white bundle. “She goes to Canterlot Castle. Put her in my suite for now, and make sure somepony is there to watch her at all times. And Roxy?” He waited until she was looking him in the eye. “Be careful. She may be just a filly, but she could be very dangerous.”

She glanced at the filly, an incredulous look on her face. “Really?”

Fine’s lips pulled back in a grimace. “Don’t make light of this, Roxy. That’s no normal filly. You’d do well to remember that.”

“Oookay.” She started to follow Fire Fox, but paused. “What’s her name?”

“Uh…” Fine paused, giving the filly a curious look. He thought for a moment, recalling everything that had just happened in the cave below.

Now this is a surprise.

“Surprise. Her name is Surprise.”

“Surprise.” Roxy nodded and turned for the forest. “See you later, boss.”

“Be careful with those fillies,” he called at her back. He turned his eye on Fire Fox, who was already disappearing in the thick forest. He heaved a long sigh. “Goodbye, Pinkie. I sincerely hope I never see you again.”

With a heavy heart, he turned and trudged past the hole leading to the Mirror Pool. He came upon Celestia’s carriage, to which the two royal guards were already hitched, and climbed in next to the princess. He chose to stare at his hooves and kept as far away from her as the seating arrangements would allow.

“To the castle.” At Celestia’s command, the carriage lurched forward. “Why so glum, Fine?”

He gritted his teeth, knowing he couldn’t ignore the question; already his tongue was tingling with the need to speak. He scrambled for some way to redirect. “I just wish I understood a bit more.”

“You mean about Pinkie and… ‘Surprise,’ was it?”

He shot her a dark look from the corner of his eye. “You were eavesdropping.”

Her smug smile said enough. “I do approve of the name.”

“Thanks, I guess.”

“You’re going to miss Pinkie, aren’t you? I didn’t know you had such a soft spot for foals.”

Leaning against the side of the carriage, Fine sighed and pressed a hoof to his cheek. “That makes two of us.” He blinked and sat up, his eyes roaming the thick foliage all around the carriage. They were moving along an overgrown path, the stallions struggling to pull the carriage through the tall grass and ruts.

“Where are we going? I thought you said we were headed back to the castle.”

Celestia giggled and shook her head. “Wrong castle. Tell me, have you ever heard of the Castle of the Royal Pony Sisters?”

“I have,” he grumbled, ears going flat against his head. “I always thought that a rather ridiculous name for a castle. Why not just ‘Everfree Castle’ or something like that?”

Celestia shrugged. “I didn’t pick the name for it, and I agree it’s a bit long-winded. It had a different name before, which I had expunged from all records.”

Now she had his attention. “Why?”

Celestia didn’t answer at first, her gaze set on something in the distance. She’d lost her smile, instead adopting a pursed frown and furrowed brow. “You’ve done exceedingly well so far, Fine. You approach your work with diligence and focus, know how to follow orders. At the same time, you’ve been fighting my decisions and trying to lessen the impact my commands have. You’re learning quickly. There’s no question that you will make a better Mane Archon than your predecessor.”

If Fine had alarm bells in his head, they’d have been ringing like crazy. He pressed against the wall of the carriage and braced for impact.

“I’ve decided to show you something, the last qualification. Do as I hope, and you will no longer have me shadowing your every action.” She glanced at him, a hard, focused look. “The last five Mane Archons failed to achieve the full privileges of the title, as you are on the verge of doing.”

Okay, no catastrophic orders as of yet. Fine didn’t relax. “So the next test in at your old home?”

“In a sense.” Celestia gained the smallest of smiles. “It’s a little early for a visit, but that’s alright.”

Celestia said nothing after, and Fine was content to brood in silence. He wondered about what horrors he might be set to encounter today, the ideas feeding his bitterness. Then his thoughts shifted to Pinkie, leading to his stomach twisting horribly at the thought of never seeing her again. Of course, this resulted in him thinking on Surprise and just what she may be capable of, which left him with a strange combination of horror and disgust. Another filly soon came to mind; poor little Amethyst Star, who would forever remember the torment her parents suffered but, if fate was kind, might also recall his last words to her. His memories shifted back to Cadance and Shining Armor, the way they begged for more of Celestia’s ‘punishment’ before the black circle and its arcane runes stole them away to the darkest place known to ponydom.

More names, more shames, more dark acts. Fine’s mind ran in circles, retracing its steps and leaving him in a quagmire of misery and guilt. Time passed. An hour, maybe two, all of it silent save for the voices in his head. He refused to look at Celestia, and she didn’t bother to interrupt his brooding.

“We’re here.”

Fine shifted from his reverie and looked up. The chariot came to a gradual stop before a tall stone wall covered in moss and vines. Celestia stepped out, and he followed suit. His head clearing of the last of his unhappy thoughts, he observed their surroundings; nothing but trees along a barely-discernible path, the canopy spreading out over even the wall. Birds chirped in the trees and assorted animal calls filled the air, but otherwise the world was quiet. Fine glanced at the pegasi drivers, both of whom dripped with sweat despite the chill air. Neither looked physically capable of hauling the chariot back through that slog.

“Come along, Fine.”

With a last concerned look at the drivers, Fine followed Celestia through the lone opening in the wall. On the other side he found himself within a broad courtyard overgrown with shrubs and trees. The buildings of the old castle had crumbled, the walls in a state of severe deterioration. Places where doors once stood were now overgrown and impassable or blocked by fallen debris, while new paths had been opened up by the endless, gradual destruction of nature. Only two structures remained largely intact, both towers that stood tall over the ruins, one to the west and another to the north.

“This place is a veritable maze if you don’t know it,” Celestia said, her tone warning. “Keep near, Fine. I’d hate to lose you when you’re so close.”

Fine barely resisted asking ‘Close to what?’ He followed just behind the princess, his head moving about constantly. He took in everything, observing landmarks and making note of alternate paths as Celestia walked him through the walls of stone and trees. “I do hope you don’t intend to abandon me at the center of the ruins and wait for me to find my own way out. That would be a rather weak test.”

Then again, maybe he should hope for exactly that.

Celestia’s chuckle drew his attention. “What?”

“Nothing.” She shot him a wink over her shoulder. “I just like the way you think.”

Fine glowered and turned his face away from her. Looking to change directions, he asked, “So why did you and your sister abandon this place, anyway?”

“I thought you would be aware of the history.”

“I am, even without any schooling.” Fine sighed and recited what every pony in the world could. “After the Sisters killed Discord with the aid of the Unknown Princess, they disappeared from the world for two hundred years of meditation on their dark deed. They returned to rebuild Equestria from the chaos their absence fomented.” He turned his eyes to the back of her head. “That says why you left, but it doesn’t explain why you never bothered to reclaim the castle once you came back.”

“An astute query.”

Celestia said nothing more, and Fine bristled at her silence. “Can’t you at least give me a hint?”

The princess came to a stop and turned to a massive tree grown within the wall next to them. “You’re about to get one.” Her horn flashed, and the tree shivered in place. The center of the trunk warped and twisted, then finally split in two to form an opening. Celestia promptly trotted through, and Fine followed.

They stood in a courtyard, this one much smaller than the last. There were no exits beyond the one they’d entered through and, while still in a state of disrepair, the walls here were intact. The area also lacked any of the overgrowth that covered the rest of the ruins, although the grass had indeed grown tall and broken up the cobblestones that once made the grounds. What really had Fine’s attention, however, stood directly in the middle of the courtyard.

It was a statue of Celestia. It stood tall, but its head hung low and its face showed only despair. Its wings were half-opened and its body was adorned with the familiar stone regalia. It was an exquisite piece of art, best showcased by the mane and tail which hung low in deference to the statue’s apparent mood, yet still had a waving structure that spoke of incredible craftsmanship. Unlike every other object in the ruin, the statue remained untouched by the ravages of nature; not a crack marred its surface and no growth dared touch it.

It seemed nature itself feared to insult the Princess of the Sun.

“Isn’t she beautiful?”

Fine shot a deadpan frown at Celestia and mimicked her fawning tone. “Aren’t you full of yourself?” Then, grudgingly, “It is exquisitely crafted.”

She shot him a smug grin. “I know, right? Come.” She led him to the statue, and as she stopped before it she spoke. “Hello again, Celestia. I’m a decade early, but things happen.”

Though his eyebrow rose, Fine said nothing. He couldn’t help wondering if he’d finally been shown proof that Celestia was as mad as he’d come to believe… although this wasn’t the brand of madness he’d been thinking.

The princess wrapped a hoof around the statue’s neck and leaned against it, a pleasant smile on her lips. She whispered into the statue’s ear. “I have a gift for you. For the first time in decades, a new Mane Archon has proven himself worthy of knowing about us. Isn’t that nice?” Her eyes shifted to Fine Crime. “Say hello.”

Realizing the order was aimed at him, Fine eyed the statue. Though he felt silly, his tongue moved on its own: “Hello, Princess Celestia.”

“Ah-ah-ah.” Celestia waggled a hoof at him. “Just ‘Celestia.’ I’m the princess, isn’t that right, Celestia?” She rapped a hoof against the statue’s head with a smirk.

“Oookay. Hello, Celestia.”

“Much better. Do try to enjoy this, Celestia; you don’t get this opportunity very often.” The princess waved for Fine to approach, and once he was standing before the statue she tapped it again. “Touch your horn with hers, Fine.”

Fine cocked his head but did as he was told. His horn touched the smooth stone surface. “I’m starting to think you brought me out here just to watch me look and act like a foal.”

“Hold still.”

There was a renewed bite to Celestia’s tone. Fine tensed, worry shooting through him at the sound. What was she up to? His eyes drifted up just in time to see Celestia lay her own horn across both his and the statues. It glowed, and Fine opened his mouth to—


Sister, who is that?                                       She won’t stop talking to me, Luna.
Celestia, this isn’t working. We can’t find the cure together.        You are weak. You were never fit to rule, and you know it.
What now? Are you crying because Luna left again?            I’ve done it. With this spell, I can finally be rid of you!                         
At last! Two centuries, and my mind is finally clear!              No, please!          No, stop! Luna, the Elements!                
Sister, we cannot rule like this.                                                 What are you saying, Luna? We need one another now more than ever.
Get out of my head, you foul thing.                                                              Go away.                   
Two bodies? I had hoped to take over this one, but it will do.                          Good. Now, let’s settle things.
This couldn’t have gone better! Now there will only be one Celestia.
Discord… I’m so sorry.                 I can! If only you pathetic things would get out of my way.       I don’t need you! I don’t need any of you!     
Oh, how I wish I could.             Goddess, you’re so pathetic!             I hope this hurts. I want the pleasure of knowing I caused you pain.
Fight? Why? We are free from one another, just leave.
You can’t! You need me, Celestia.         Are you really, Celestia? I don’t think you are. But you will be.
We’ll go away, where the ponies won’t have to fear the outbursts.                     Luna!                             I will find a way to be rid of you.
How un-princess-y of you.            
If we don’t fight now, we’ll do it anyway in time. Fifty years, a hundred, a thousand?
Need you? Hah! That’s rich. Nopony ever needed you.               Who are you?
Yes, I fear it’s our only choice.             You see, Celestia? We are at war with ourselves.
Rid of me? We are one and the same, Celestia.           I… guess that’s true. But I don’t think either of us could survive if the other… died.
No, nonono! Don’t do this!                                                                
I am Celestia.
Oh, pish-posh. She’s just being her usual spoiled self.        I am nothing like you.                                       I didn’t think of that.
I’ll do what I want. Nopony in Equestria will know better, most have forgotten we exist.
Get out of my head!               You see, sister? Can we even trust one another like this?                      Celestia!
S-sister, what did he do to us? I’m hearing voices…                     I… I don’t know.
I’ll rule this world in your stead. I might even put you on parade.
Are you comfortable, Princess? Now I just need to locate our sister, tell her the good news.


Fine fell back from the statue, the coppery taste of blood on his lips. His legs twitched in violent spasms and he collapsed to his side. His lungs begged for air as he gaped like a fish, eyes rolling into his head and his vision turned red.

He reached a trembling hoof, begging silently for help as a fire coursed through his brain. Visions swam through his gaze, images of fighting, of isolation, of despair and anger and loss. Voices whispered into one ear and screamed into the other. He felt hatred in one instant, shame in the next. The world was a chaotic mess of intermingled nonsense that overpowered his mental faculties and ripped his skull apart at the seams.

Fine panicked. He shook and tried to clutch at his head, but his legs still wouldn’t obey his commands, so he tried banging his skull against the ground. To his horror, even his neck muscles wouldn’t respond properly, his head jerking about in random directions and sending sharp spikes of pain through him.

At last his lungs took in air, and he promptly shrieked. He screamed and sobbed and pleaded for mercy and screamed some more as wave after wave of information smashed into his head. He thought he could feel blood running from his nostrils, or was that a wind in his face? Or the heat of the sun or the bite of snow or aroma of fresh wheat or the reek of charred flesh or—

It stopped. The end came so suddenly that it took Fine some time to realize it. He lay sprawled on the ground, a hoarse whistling sound accompanying his rapid, shallow gasps. His skull throbbed, his body burned, his mind couldn’t grasp any proper thoughts. Just as his vision started to blur, he made out a strange white shape looming over him.

“You have one week, Fine. Don’t disappoint me.”

The world went dark, the pain traded for merciful oblivion.
> Book I — Fine Crime: When Truth Becomes Deception
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------




Do I believe Fine’s story? Personally, I think he went a little nutty thanks to Celestia’s trials and came up with that convoluted mess just to keep his head on half-straight. Can’t say I blame him, considering the things he’s done. That stallion’s dangerous. I’ve met a lot of thugs and whacks in my time, and they’d all go paler than a ghost if they were told they’d have to go hoof-to-hoof with Fine and his cronies. I won’t deny it; I’m a little scared of the guy myself.

But here’s the messed up thing: Fine’s not a bad guy. Yeah, he’s done some twisted things, but how can he not when he’s got a sun goddess breathing down his neck? He might be able to scare the piss out of hardened criminals with that glare of his, but deep down the stallion’s got a heart of gold. Thing’s probably got more bandages and stitches than Frankenpony’s monster, but it still beats; Celestia hasn’t broken him yet.

I don’t believe Fine’s story. Not even remotely.

But I believe he believes it, and I’m not going to argue.

We all gotta cope somehow.

—Crueles Caballeron, Translated from Palabras del Sur, Book of Shadows XLVIII
May 15, C.Y. 1007












December 18, C.Y. 989
The Castle of the Royal Pony Sisters


It took time to realize he wasn’t dreaming. Fine lay on his side, entire body numb as he stared at loose cobblestones and brown weeds. Visions swirled within his mind, mixing before him in the steam of his breath, and he struggled to make sense of them.

He sat up with a jerk and a gasp.

He had no idea why.

Blinking, Fine slowly turned his head to the left, then to the right. This place… this… courtyard? He combed his mind for some recollection of why he was here, but couldn’t grasp hold of even one tangible thought. For a moment, he didn’t even remember his own name. Another came to his lips.

“Celestia.” Legs wobbling, he stood and turned around. He almost collided with the princess’s miserable, stoney face.

No, please!

A sharp pain jolted the area behind his eyes, prompting him to clutch at his head. An image had been burned into his retinas; Celestia, gazing down her muzzle at him with a smirk and eyes filled with venomous joy. Yet the voice… that had belonged to Celestia as well.

The pain receded, and Fine once again gazed at the statue. “W-what the buck did she do to me?” He blinked and turned in a circle. “Where did she even go?”

I can! If only you pathetic things would get out of my way.

Fine snarled and shook his head as a new image flashed before his eyes, this time of a pretty blue alicorn. He blinked upon realizing her mane was made of stars. She had been glaring at him with wide eyes, her pupils narrowed like those of a dragon, and the sight made him shiver. Though he’d never seen her before save in history books, he didn’t even have to think about it to know who it was. “W-why… Princess Luna?

“Celestia!” He wobbled away from the statue, the world shifting wildly to his motions. “What did you do to me?” He lost his balance and fell on his side.









He couldn’t move. His legs remained locked, his head hung low, his body ignored his commands. He couldn’t even breathe. A mind-numbing horror filled him as he stared at the ground, unable to so much as turn his eyes. Fine wanted to beg some more, his tongue shifting within his closed mouth, but not a sound escaped his throat. He sobbed silently as a fresh dread overcame him.

This isn’t happening.

White hooves appeared in his vision. He knew those hooves. They were his.

“Are you comfortable, Princess? Now I just need to locate our sister, tell her the good news.”

No, not Luna! Leave her alone!

“I imagine it will be easy to convince her. We’ll reform this world together, and I’ll plant within her the seeds of doubt. How long before her already broken mind shatters completely?”

Fine struggled against the prison holding him so perfectly in place. A pointless endeavor, but he had to try. His sister…

“I bet I can draw it out for centuries. I’ll make her my toy while Equestria falls farther and farther. Doesn’t that sound fun?”

He could see Luna in his mind’s eye. The thought of what might be coming brought a silent sob to his throat. His tears… he couldn’t even feel his own tears.

“Do not worry, Celestia. I promise to come by every fifty years or so to let you know of my progress. I wouldn’t dream of leaving you out.”

Luna… I’m so sorry.









Fine gasped, the vision fading as fast as it had come. He had tears in his eyes, tears for a mare he’d never met. He climbed to his hooves and rubbed his eyes, fighting down the emotions that had inexplicably taken over. “Th-that wasn’t me. Didn’t even s-sound like… like…”

His heart stopped. Slowly, he turned to face the statue. Closing his eyes, Fine tried to recall the pose he’d been trapped in. Once he had it in his head, he carefully opened his eyes and studied the statue.

It was in the exact same position.

“That’s… really creepy.” Fine eased up to the statue, trying to recall the spell Celestia had used on him. It wasn’t easy; he still had trouble sorting the past from whatever she put in his head. Yet Fine couldn’t help but think that the images flitting through his brain like leaves in a gale were more than just random ideas. They felt more personal, more focused.

They were like memories.

Go away.

Fine crouched low, a sudden and powerful sadness striking him. A sob erupted from his throat as he struggled to make sense of what was happening to him.









Fine lay on a bed of hay deep within a cave. A pool of water stood mere inches from his head, the smooth surface like a mirror. He stared into the darkness, at the other bed just barely visible in the black. Loneliness washed over him. His throat constricted and his vision blurred. He wanted to crawl over to that bed and bury himself in it, to take in the smell of his sister that was fading all too quickly, but he couldn’t conjure the energy to move.

What now? Are you crying because Luna left again?

Fine covered his head and bared his teeth through his weeping. “Go away.”

Oh, how I wish I could.

A flame of anger made itself known through the despair. “I will find a way to be rid of you.”

Rid of me? We are one and the same, Celestia.

With a snarl, Fine forced himself into a sitting position. Though weariness made his movements sluggish, he pulled himself close to the pool and gazed into it.

A white face glared back, outlined by a brilliant, flowing, multi-hued mane.

“I am nothing like you.”

The apparition in the pool studied him… then smirked.

No, I suppose not.









Another gasp, and Fine was staring into the forlorn eyes of the statue. He felt anger, frustration… loneliness. It all seemed so real. He sat back and studied the statue some more, picking out the pieces of what he’d seen and pulling them together like a puzzle. It didn’t take long to form the seemingly impossible conclusion.

“There were two Celestias.” He reached up to rub the cold, hard cheek of the statue before him. “And… and you were one of them.”

Fine shook his head frantically. “No, that makes no sense. How? How could there possibly have been two?” He rubbed his aching skull, trying to think through the maze of images still running wildly through his brain. “Is she trying to confuse me? Give me a false history? What possible motive could she have for—”

You see, Celestia? We are at war with ourselves.

With a groan, Fine backed away from the statue. Celestia had made sure he was touching the thing when she cast the spell, so maybe if he kept his distance the visions and thoughts would slow down. Yet, as he trudged all the way to the corner of the courtyard, he felt no relief; the information kept coming.

You have one week, Fine. Don’t disappoint me.

Celestia… she’d told him that right before he’d been knocked out. That was right, wasn’t it? Yes… he could make out his own memories from those shoved in his head. They were memories, weren’t they?

One week to do what?

He sat against the rocks and massaged his temples, trying to think straight. Analysis was one of his talents, he should be able to figure out what the witch wanted. One week… what could he do in one week? He was in the Everfree Forest, amidst a ruin, no clues save that disturbingly realistic statue. What could he do with this in just one week? The specific amount of time had to have a purpose.

Canterlot. It would take him about a week to get back there.

Fine grimaced and shook his head; too easy. It had to be related to these visions she had hit him with. Some correlation to the statue? He approached it again, gritting his teeth as more pain shot through his skull.

“She’s showing me a world where there were two Celestias,” he grumbled, walking a wide circle around the object. “That alone doesn’t make sense. Celestia doesn’t have some long lost twin. So maybe… maybe she…”

He sat before the statue and tugged at his mane. “Damn it all to Tartarus, I just don’t know!”

His own shout sent an extra stab of pain through his head.









“Sister, who is that?”

Fine was already floating in the air, and intense magic like he’d never imagined coursing through his body. Colorful jewels encircled him, and when he glanced aside he saw his sister, Luna, whose eyes were glowing pure white from the same powerful energies. Luna was pointing at something, and he looked.

There, standing only a few hooves away, was a violet pony. Amidst his efforts to control the Elements, he still managed to be shocked at the sight of another alicorn here of all places. Though small, the pony wore a crown of gold, studded with a gem that looked not unlike…

Something akin to a lightning strike shot amongst the Elements, jarring Fine from his momentary distraction. He could feel the magic within him stirring, shifting, becoming unstable. “W-what’s going on?”

The newcomer shrieked, her crown glowing white hot atop her head. The brilliant colors forming all around Fine and his sister began to churn and stretch out, as if reaching for the gemstone in the crown. At once Fine understood, although he couldn’t comprehend the how: that alicorn was wearing an Element of Harmony.

“Celestia, the spell, I can’t control it!”

Fine put all his efforts into pulling the magic back. Their purpose was confused! The Elements didn’t know what they were meant to do with this extra member among their ranks. The colors began to blend, creating a mismatched stream that was anything but harmonious.

“What’s this?”

Fine’s head jerked towards their foe: Discord. He stood from his throne, eyes wide at the sight of the chaos unleashed before him. A toothy grin formed on his face. “Well, it seems the Elements have a sense of fun after all.”

Fine’s heart leapt into his throat; with the way the Elements were now, there was no way to know what they would do to him. “No, stop! Luna, the Elements!”

“I know, I know!”

Yet even with the two of them struggling, the greatest magic known to ponydom refused to be tamed. Fine grappled with the magic with all his strength, yet the energy proved beyond his capacity. He turned his eyes to the violet alicorn. “You, help us, please!”

He received no answer, for the newcomer appeared to be straining just as hard as they were. She hunched over, eyes squeezed tight and teeth clenched as she battled to restrain the magic coursing from her.

“Celestia!”

Too late: the magic coalesced and released in an explosive, mismatched rainbow of colors. Fine could feel the unwholesome new form, a new purpose that felt altogether wrong. He screamed at their failure to rein in the magic.

Discord spread his arms wide in invitation as the enigmatic force plunged towards him. “Oh-hoho, I’m so excited! Let’s see what this does.”

Luna screamed. “D-Discord, no, don’t let it—”

The wave of magic engulfed him. Fine’s heart raced as a torrent of terrible possibilities ran through his mind. Would Discord be stronger? Weaker? Undergo a horrid personality shift? Good Goddess, what if he multiplied? He glanced towards the violet alicorn… who was gone. Fine stared, but only for a moment, for his attention went back to Discord the moment the magic faded from him.

Discord hadn’t moved. He remained in the exact same pose, arms spread wide and inviting. His face, however, had gone slack. He stared at the sky, eyes wide and pupils shrunk. It took a few seconds for him to work his lips, and all he was able to get out was, “Oh.”

Then he fell flat on his face.









Uncertainty was shifting into full blown terror, but it faded quickly as Fine rubbed his head. For once he wasn’t confused; he knew exactly what he’d just seen. Everypony in Equestria knew how Discord was defeated.

Except that purple pony... she had to be the Unknown Princess of lore, the one that helped the Royal Sisters defeat Discord twelve hundred years ago. Yet the history books all stated that the Unknown Princess was a warrior pony, a mighty leader with a much larger role in the battle. According to what Fine had just seen, she seemed more like an incidental participant.

“But still,” he whispered, eyes on the statue’s hooves, “that was much closer to what history says. Yet the Elements of Harmony… a seventh one? How is that possible? Why is Celestia showing me—”

He blinked, for a drop of water had fallen in the grass between him and the statue. He raise his head to view the night sky; a few clouds, but certainly nothing that would produce rain. He looked down again and saw a few more drops fall. “What?” He looked up again. His jaw dropped as he found the source of the ‘rain.’

The statue of Celestia was crying.

No, nonono! Don’t do this!

The implication of what Fine was seeing crashed atop his skull like a ton of bricks. His legs crumbled and he fell to his barrel. “W-why… Who… How…” He pressed his hooves to both side of his throbbing cranium and gaped at the statue’s face. “There really were two. Th-there really were two.”

He crawled forward and studied the stoney face of Celestia closely, looking for some trick. He could see none. Moving slowly, he leaned in and stuck his tongue out to catch one of the drops as it fell from that pale chin. A sharp, salty taste met his taste buds and he pulled back with a whimper. “B-but why? Why would there be two of them. You? Them?” He cocked his head at the statue’s face, but it made no attempt to respond. “Why did she trap you in stone?”

He turned aside and tapped his chin, noting how the images running through his head had calmed. Still a bit chaotic, and nothing save for the hallucinations held any sense of clarity, but at least he didn’t feel like information was being injected into his skull by a syringe.

“She wants me to figure this out,” he muttered, glancing back to the statue. “I don’t know who you are, but by now I’m sure that Celestia’s not deceiving me.” He leaned in close, looking into the statue’s downcast eyes. “Celestia does nothing ‘good,’ so I can only believe that you don’t deserve to be here. If that is true, then I promise you’ll see me again.”

He turned away from the statue, looking towards the entrance of the courtyard. The tree was still split open, inviting him to leave. Fine had to believe that whatever Celestia wanted him to learn, the clues were in the ruins. He would search. Perhaps solving this riddle was what she wanted of him.

As soon as Fine was on the other side of the tree, however, it shook and creaked and groaned closed. He grimaced at it, wondering exactly how he’d get back inside when the time came. “One more riddle for me to solve, eh, Celestia?”

He turned about and took in his surroundings. He could follow the wall left or right, or move forward to a crumbled building opposite the tree entrance. Not seeing any advantages in choice, he started forward—









“She won’t stop talking to me, Luna.”

Fine stared at the smoldering fireplace. Though worn to exhaustion, he could attain no sleep. He rested his head on the small pillow before him and sighed. His sister’s hooves appeared in the corner of his vision.

“I know,” Luna whispered. “My own mental tenant bothers me incessantly.”

Sounds like somepony I’d like to meet.

Fine didn’t even have the energy to grimace at the voice. Silence reigned in the Royal Suite. Luna shifted her weight from one hoof to the other; she wanted to say something. He made no attempt to drag it out of her. Deep down, he knew what she wanted to say.

“Sister, we cannot rule like this.”

There it was. He sighed and closed his eyes. Then, abruptly, his head jerked up and he glared at his sister. His voice was forced from his lips. “I can! If only you pathetic things would get out of my way.”

Fine slapped his hooves over his muzzle, cringing as laughter echoed through his head.

Luna hardly reacted to the abrupt outburst. She merely lay on the cushion at his side and rested her head along his withers. “We’ll go away, where the ponies won’t have to fear the outbursts.”

He wished he could argue against it. Fine had fought for so long to keep control of his mind, to teach his inner voice who was in command of this body. Yet now, with his energy drained and that incessant whispering in his ear… he knew. He hated it, was ashamed by it, but he knew. He cast his gaze around the room, at the great paintings and the furniture and the fireplace. It all left him with a horrible melancholy. What would the ponies do without them?

As if the peasants could do a thing without our hooves to guide them. They have no idea how to take care of themselves!

With head bowed, he forced the words from his lips. “You are right, sister. Yes, I fear it’s our only choice.”









Exhaustion overtook Fine and he fell on his side. He lay there, breath coming heavy and slow, but the weariness he’d felt in the vision faded quickly. He chose to wait and process what he’d just seen.

If he understood the hallucination correctly… Celestia had a voice in her head? And Luna did too. A case of multiple personalities? Fine wasn’t about to discount the idea; Celestia’s decisions and actions were enough to make it obvious she was mad. Perhaps she always had been. Yet what did that have to do with the statue and the other visions about there being two Celestias?

One thing was clear: these things weren’t coming in any discernible order.

Shaking off his uncertainty, he stood and trotted through the ruins. He had to try and think constructive and not let the stuff filling his head distract. Celestia was trying to tell him something. Alternatively, she could be trying to drive him mad. Either way, he would play her little game and solve this riddle.

Surveying the ruins was by no means easy. He spent a good hour examining walls and corners and stones, looking for any hint as to what he was supposed to learn. Every now and again a vision would come to him, always giving him a small piece of a history not in agreement with modern teachings. He saw the first time Celestia’s more ominous personality took control of her body. It happened to Princess Luna as well. Eventually, he witnessed Luna’s decision to leave Celestia, fearing that their dark sides would attempt to harm one another.

Always from Celestia’s perspective. He felt every horrible emotion: the pain, the depression, the loss. The princess spent decades alone in the wilderness, away from all civilization as a voice of menace whispered poison in her ears. There were times when she went entirely insane, and sometimes the corrupt half would take over for weeks at a time. Fine gained one of those visions in the second hour, and it took a while to come to his senses; for a brief time, her madness had become his own.

Snow began to fall. Fine realized his thirst and hunger and recognized that he might be in trouble. Though he doubted that Celestia would be so kind as to leave him food and water, he decided to make for the entrance of the ruins. With any luck, there might be something left behind for him. He shivered in the chill air, wishing he’d not left his jacket with Roxy and Fire Fox. What a foalish decision…

If Celestia thought Fine would get lost in the ruins, she had grossly underestimated him. Getting back to the entrance proved a simple matter, and before long he was approaching the original opening of the former castle’s vast exterior wall. Not getting his hopes up, he turned the corner.

The chariot was gone. No surprise.

What was a surprise was the two blackened lumps where the chariot had once been. Fine stared at them, eyes wide as the scent of charred flesh filled his nostrils. The smell brought back images of Jewel Hoof shrieking amidst flames. Slowly, chest heaving, he approached the two shapes.

There was no question that they were ponies. Though his stomach churned at the proximity, Fine leaned over them to get a better look. There could be no doubt that they were Celestia’s drivers. They even still had their armor, which had warped and curled as if affected by an incredible heat. The ponies’ bodies had been welded to the interior of their metal plates. Their skinless, black faces grinned at him in a macabre mockery of amusement.

Fine shivered and turned away. Why would Celestia do this? What had these two royal guards done to warrant such a death?

Then again, if Celestia had sealed her better half in stone, she certainly wouldn’t want that kind of information coming out. Had she killed these guards just to preserve the secret? The thought made him—









“I’ve done it. With this spell, I can finally be rid of you!”

Fine stared into the pool, a victorious grin on both his lips and those of the Celestia looking back at him. She appeared ragged and thin, her mane no longer flowing but hanging loose over her face in tangles. Her eyes were bloodshot and dark bags formed accessories for them. Her coat was dirty and smeared like she hadn’t washed in weeks, and Fine felt appropriately grungy.

It didn’t matter.

His lips curled back against his will, the Celestia in the pool snarling at him. “What are you on about, this time? I was having a nice time napping.”

He raised up a worn out scroll with his golden magic.”I figured it out. I know what we’ve been doing wrong!”

“Right.” His voice didn’t sound very enthusiastic. “I wish you’d give it up, Celestia. You’ve been ‘figuring out’ that spell for decades now.”

“Just look.”

The scroll unfurled before Fine, and his eyes poured over its contents. Magical formulas, proofs and complex theoretical patterns were laid out in a mess of ink. At first, he merely skimmed over the material, only reading the familiar parts… but then his eyes moved on their own, slowly taking in the data. He felt his jaw gradually dropping.

“Celestia, this is a big departure from our previous thinking.”

He nodded eagerly. “We were thinking in all the wrong ways. We believed Discord just created you and crammed you into my head, but that’s wrong. He didn’t make you from nothing, he made you from me; my head, my memories, my thoughts. You’re not a separate being I can just pull out and stuff in another body, you are me. It’s like you said: we are one and the same.”

A long pause passed, Fine waiting with bated breath as his abominable mental partner considered the information before them. At last, his lips moved again. “It’s… an interesting theory. Yes, this could work, assuming you’re right. It would be like…”

“Like creating a twin,” Fine finished with a grin. “There would simply be two of us, and then we could go our separate ways.”

“Two bodies? I had hoped to take over this one, but it will do.” The scroll lowered so that Fine’s wicked smile could taunt him through the mirror of the pool. “Then perhaps we can settle things.”

The smile faded to a grim frown. Fine felt anger boiling within him, as it had so many times before in conversations like these. “I hope this hurts. I want the pleasure of knowing I caused you pain.”

A laugh forced its way from his throat.

“How un-princess-y of you.”









Fine glared at his surroundings. It took him a moment to realize that the vision had passed… but his anger refused to go away. At last, he knew why there were two Celestias. Worse, even the good Celestia, who he’d come to recognize as being strictly anti-violent, wanted to hurt the bad. He didn’t blame her in the slightest; he wished he could kill the witch, and he’d only known her for a few months. He couldn’t imagine having her stuck in his head for two centuries.

He sat in the steadily building snow and simmered. The smell of the smoldering bodies behind him enhanced his frustration. Kill Celestia. As if it was that—









Fine leaned back to stare at the ceiling of the cave. He listened to the pristine silence of his mind and felt tears forming rivers down his cheeks.

The quiet was beautiful.

“At last! Two centuries, and my mind is finally clear!”

“How peculiar.”

He looked to the voice at his side and saw, to his alarm, Princess Celestia. She stared right back, eyes peering as she felt at her own body as if unsure of what it was. Fine felt himself doing the same, comparing his white form, great wings and flowing mane to hers. They matched in every conceivable way, to such a degree that they might as well have been identical twins. “This is… fascinating. Are you feeling okay?”

“I feel fine.” Celestia trotted in place to test her legs. She crossed her eyes and ignited her horn, filling the cave with dim light. “Everything seems to be working.”

Fine nodded, but then the reality hit him. “I… I did it.” A smile stretch across his face. “I finally did it! We are free!”

“Free?” Celestia’s eyes shifted about, as if she too were just beginning to comprehend. She worked her lips for a moment, and then a dark glint came to her eye. “Free. Good. Now let’s settle things.” She lowered her head and spread her legs into an aggressive pose, eyes locked upon Fine. “Time to fight.”

He blinked and stepped back from her. “Fight? Why? We are free from one another, just leave.”

Celestia stomped, growling her frustration. “For two hundred years I have been stuck in your head, listening to your pathetic whining and putting up with your spineless nature. I’ve been waiting to kick your flank for far too long!”

Fine recovered his confidence and stood tall, leveling a judging frown at his old adversary. “There is no need to resort to violence. We might offend one another, but the better solution is for us to go our separate ways.”

“And then what?” Celestia reared her head back with a haughty pose of her own. “You’ll go create a kingdom of harmony, and I go to wreak havoc? We will cross paths eventually, Celestia, like The Voice and The Blight before us. If we don’t fight now, we’ll do it anyway in time. Fifty years, a hundred, a thousand?”

Fine hesitated once again. As much as he hated to admit it, there could be no denying the reality of the claim. “I… guess that’s true. But I don’t think either of us could survive if the other… died. After all, we are linked.”

Celestia’s face fell, as if Fine’s words were little more than a slap in the face. “I didn’t think of that.” She sat back, all aggression lost as she rubbed her chin in thought. “Looking at the workings of the spell… Yes, I can see that there is a chance. If I die, you may die as well.”

“And vice versa.” Fine sighed and waved a dismissive hoof. “Don’t you see? We can’t stop one another, but we cannot live with one another either. It’s quite the impasse. I really think we need to just… stay out of one another’s way.”

Celestia glared at him. “Could you? I don’t think so. I am you, after all, and thus I know you won’t tolerate my plans.”

“Well, what are we supposed to do?”

“Improvise.” Celestia regained her unpleasant grin. “Nopony said we absolutely must fight to the death.

“I think I know exactly what to do with you.”









Fine stomped, sending snow flying. He shook his head forcefully to clear the last of the vision before glaring at the crumbling wall before him. His anger amplified as the repercussions of his latest hallucination rapidly fell into place. The picture was clear, the story apparent.

It made his blood boil.

“The good Celestia was the first victim,” he grumbled, pacing a circle in the ever-falling snow. Hunger forgotten, quest sidetracked, he aligned all his newfound knowledge. “Couldn’t risk dying, could you, Celestia? The changelings, extinct. The caribou, wiped out. Standing armies in every part of the world. I bet the stories about your bucking sister are all lies too. Did you send her up there just to make sure she wouldn’t raise a hoof to stop you?”

Now I just need to locate our sister, tell her the good news.

“You… you scheming… murderous…” Fine reared back and screamed. “Amethyst, Pinkie, Cadance and Shining Armor! Even me. All you had to do was bucking take the offer and go away.”

And the entire world might have been better off. Fine turned his gaze back to the ruins, thinking on what the world could have been like had the other Celestia won, or even if there’d not been a fight at all. Equestria the cesspool.

Celestia’s great, intentional legacy.

Fine didn’t care what Celestia wanted of him in this place; he would not be another pawn in her game. He turned and galloped into the chill of the Everfree, following the path east. He would confront the monster on her throne, and be damned with the consequences!










December ??, C.Y. 989
The Everfree Forest


Hunger gnawed at his insides. Thirst had his tongue hanging from his open mouth. The cold winter air stabbed into Fine’s very bones.

How long had he been walking? At least two days. Though his legs shook with each step, he kept going. Ever East, ever onwards. For the millionth time, he wished he knew the layout of the forest. Was he lost? It felt like it. His drivers had brought him to the Mirror Pool from Ponyville within only a few hours.

He had to be lost.

No more visions plagued him; he had all the events down in his head by now. It seemed to matter little. He would starve if he didn’t eat soon. He’d run across a couple pools and a river in his walking, so his thirst wasn’t so bad, but the last time he’d tried to eat anything had left him so sick he’d lost everything he’d eaten… violently.

So he just trudged on, leaving a long track in the snow. He had to get out, had to get to Celestia, had to stand up to her. It would be the death of him, but at least he would die on his terms. Somepony had to speak for the pony trapped in stone at the ruins, for all the ponies who had suffered, for the thousand years of…

He groaned and fell to his knees, his heavy breathing creating great clouds of steam. “C-come on, Fine. Don’t stop n-now.” He strained, but all he achieved was to flop forward on his barrel, knocking snow high into the air.

A wall of snow blocked his vision. He stared at it, eyelids heavy and heart thumping in his ears. Even the thought of trying to stand once more took too much energy. He fought it with all his might, but his eyes gradually closed. “I’m s-sorry. Celestia… Cadance… Amethyst… P-Pinkie…”

As his senses faded, he couldn’t help but think that he should have done so much more.









“Fine, help me.”

He shifted, coming out of his reverie. Muscles aching, he stretchd and found no relief. He looked up to find himself in the throne room of Canterlot Castle, the lush rug soft beneath his hooves. The place appeared empty. “Who’s there?”

“Why didn’t you let us go?”

He turned around and felt his heart slam into his throat, for ponies were before him, each suffering their own special brand of torment.

To the left, Cadance lay on the floor, her legs and neck in shackles, her wings broken. Shining lay atop her, their flesh fused in a hideous display. Both stared at him with dull, expressionless eyes.

“Where’s mommy and daddy?”

To their right was the filly Amethyst, hanging by her neck from a small noose and gazing with that same lifeless expression. Behind her was Jewel Hoof and his wife, bound together about a pole and lit by a raging inferno. Though their mouths were opened in screams, not a sound escaped them.

“I’m a monster.”

Right again, and there was Pinkie. She lay upside down, throat held in the grasp of her doppelganger, Surprise. The tiny pegasus was giggling madly and smashing the helpless filly’s head against the stone floor again and again and again.

Yet Pinkie’s lifeless eyes never left Fine.

He covered his lips with a fetlock and sobbed. “P-please, don’t look at me like that.”

Not one eye turned away.

Fine backed from the horrors before him. “I-I’m sorry. I didn’t have a choice. Please, you must believe me!”

Of course you didn’t have a choice.

Fine spun around and gasped, for there sat Celestia before him. Except what he saw wasn’t right; Celestia was as still as stone. She stared into his soul with the familiar eyes of the doomed, not a muscle twitching. Not even her multihued mane moved. A single chain connected to a metal collar at her throat and attached to the floor, but it seemed redundant. She didn't even seem to be breathing.

She always wins. What are you but a bug for her to squash, or a playing piece to be sacrificed?

“I…” Fine bowed his head and trembled. “I d-don’t know…”

We are slaves. Celestia’s voice crushed his mind. It pushed into his head with such force that he found himself flat on his stomach. We are all slaves, now and always. Celestia knows no equal.

“That c-can’t be t-true.”

The frozen being before her said no more. She didn’t need to, for Fine’s despair was complete. He lay on the floor and sobbed, wallowing in his uselessness. All his anger, all his despair amounted to nothing before the sheer might of his opponent. What could he do to earn forgiveness?

Nothing. He could only weep as his soul shattered.

Now this is an interesting sight.

“Interesting? It seems rather horrid in my mind.”

Those voices were new. Fine didn’t look up. He didn’t want to see any more horrors.

“He knows, Nightmare.”

It would appear so.

“I would speak to him.”

Fine hadn’t realized he’d curled himself into a ball. Despite his misgivings, he rubbed his eyes with a fetlock and forced himself to look up. “W-who… who’s there?”

The throne room had gone. Now Fine found himself in a world of fog, still to the point of unnaturalness. He shivered at the sight, sensing a great unwholesomeness hiding within.

Why would you want to talk to him? Our sister has clearly already broken him.

The voice came from everywhere at once. Fine shifted into a sitting position and looked around, noticing with mild surprise that his fear had faded. Yet how could that have happened so quickly?

“You forget our duty, Nightmare.” Fine turned to see a figure walking forward through the fog, tall and regal and soundless. “We can help him overcome.”

The ethereal voice scoffed. Go on, then. Waste your time.

“Who are you?” Though weariness made the act difficult, Fine managed to force himself to his hooves. He put on the most aggressive expression he could under the circumstances, knowing it would amount to little. “What do you intend to do?”

“Nothing,” the pony said as she stepped through the fog at last. “Only speak.”

Fine’s jaw dropped at the sight of a dark blue coat, a horn and wings, and a mane decorated with stars. “Y-you… You’re Princess Luna.”

The princess, her pose regal and composed, gave a small nod. “Yes, that is my name and title.”

A blink. Another, just to be sure. She still stood before Fine. “B-but… Aren’t you still on the moon?”

Her face betrayed no expression. “Being in exile does not prevent me from walking the dreamscape. Now—” She pointed at him, “—how is it you know of my sister’s tragic fate?”

“I’m dreaming?” Fine flinched at the princess’s raised eyebrow. “She… showed me. Stuffed all the memories right into my head.”

A chuckle resounded through the fog. She has chosen another.

“So it seems.” Luna’s lips curled into a contemplative frown. “What is your name?”

“Fine…” He paused to consider his answer. “It’s Verity. Verity Fine, but I am known as Fine Crime.”

“Fine Crime, once Verity Fine.” Luna gave a curt nod. “Tell us, are you loyal to my sister?”

Before Fine could even register the question, he felt his anger rise within him. “No.”

Oh, he looks like a feisty one.

“Silence.” Luna’s head shifted in a tiny jerk to the side, her eyes never leaving Fine. “Then why do you work for her? I presume you joined the Archons of your own free will.”

He grimaced and looked away. “Because nopony else would take a monster like me. I don’t like what I am or what I do, but it is the only job I know.”

That bodiless voice chuckled yet again. I like this one. Celestia chose well. Perhaps he’ll still be around when she deigns to bring us back for our regular visit.

“ ‘This one?’ ” Fine looked around at the fog, but could find no other pony to address. “What are you talking about?”

“You will see in time.” Luna waited for him to look to her once more before speaking again. “That assumes you pass her final test. Tell me, Fine Crime, once Verity Fine, where are you in the waking world?”

“Where?” He paused to think, rubbing his head as he sought out his memories. Indeed, where was he? The last thing he recalled was galloping away from the ruins, so…

A sinking sensation made him bow his head. “I… I was trying to get back to Canterlot. Celestia abandoned me in the Everfree Forest. I got lost.”

Ah, the old Forest Illusion trick. Celestia is quite fond of that one.

“Forest Illusion trick?” Fine glanced around once more, wishing he could put a face to that voice.

“One more part of Celestia’s test for you.” Luna stepped closer and peered at Fine, who leaned back with ears folded. Her gaze didn’t appear at all friendly. “What is it you intend to do once you get back to Canterlot?”

He grimaced at the query. “There’s not much I can do, to be frank. She has me cursed to obey.” Yet he puffed out his chest and looked the princess in the eye. “But I won’t be her puppet anymore. She can kill me if she wants. I’ve done enough harm under her hoof.”

Hah! The voice made him flinch with its sudden volume. Is that all? Just walk up to her, say ‘I’m done’ and let her blast you? How noble.

“Well, what would you propose?” Fine turned a circle, glaring at the fog. “I can’t try to hurt her, that’s part of the curse. I can’t disobey her orders either.”

You are to be the Mane Archon. You work in shadows, do you not? Even Celestia can’t be aware of everything your ponies do.

“I am the Mane Archon,” he snarled. “And yes, everything I do is veiled in secrecy. It’s my Sun-be-damned special talent to keep things hidden!”

“Then take advantage of that,” Luna said, her tone commanding. “You cannot harm her, but you can still scheme, can’t you? You’d not be in the position you are in otherwise. There are more ways to stand up for yourself than a direct confrontation.”

Fine stared as he processed her words. He looked down and rubbed his chin, eyes shifting. “Hmm… I suppose the order to do her no harm does only include me. Assassins won’t be able to touch her, but if there are other ways to bring down a demigoddess…”

Luna scoffed. “Celestia is no goddess, full nor half. She is but a pony. An immensely powerful pony, but a pony nonetheless.”

“What you suggest… is no simple matter.”

The voice shared Luna’s unpleasant tone. So you would give up because the job is hard?

“No.” He shook his head, but had to admit that some of his conviction had been lost. “I just don’t know where to start.”

“There have been many Mane Archons, Fine Crime, once Verity Fine. All have failed to do precisely what you wish. In all likelihood, you will too.” Luna looked down her muzzle at him. “Does this frighten you?”

Fine didn’t have to think about it. “No.”

She studied him for some time. Fine couldn’t help but feel like a second pair of eyes were also watching him from somewhere in the fog. He kept his gaze locked with Luna’s, determined to show his conviction.

Abruptly, Luna lowered her head and tapped Fine’s with her horn. A jolt ran through him, not unlike a static shock. “This will help you escape the forest. It will also make you forget much of this dream, our presence included.”

“What?” Fine cocked his head. “Why?”

“It is best to not let Celestia know I am interfering.”

Another of those ominous, disembodied chuckles. She’ll find out, you know.

Luna cringed. “Perhaps, but I have to try.” She turned away and launched, wings quickly carrying her into the surrounding mists. Fine raised his hoof to stop her, but it was far too late.

I’ll let this play out. Sometimes it’s more fun to watch Luna’s scheming fail spectacularly.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Fine grumbled. “Who the hay are you, anyway?”

Time to wake, little colt.









Fine came to with a start, his world nothing but white. Snow cascaded from his face as he raised his head to look around. He was still in the Everfree, still cold and hungry. Yet somehow he felt more… energetic. He picked himself up and shook off the remaining snow. “W-what the heck was that all about?”

He blinked. “What was what all about?” He shivered as a chill wind hit him, yet somehow it didn’t seem so bad as it had before. He closed his eyes and tried to recall the dream that he’d just had, but all he could think of was endless fog and some voice he couldn’t place. Dreams were such weird things, but he seemed to remember that one being weirder than normal.

He gave a good shake of his head, trying to focus his thinking. He had to remember his goal: face Celestia and get to work. For the sake of all those she wronged over the centuries, he would fight in the best way he could. Though it would take nothing short of a miracle, he would stop Celestia. It was the only way to ensure the future of Equestria. He would have to continue doing terrible things, and it may end up exploding in his face, but if he didn’t try nopony else would.

The wind bit at Fine’s face as he took in his surroundings once again. He was still in the Everfree, that much was clear, but where did he need to go to get out? Something within him made him turn to the right, off the path he’d been following. He stared into the bare trees, trying to determine what made him think to go in that direction. No answers came to him, yet the longer he gazed the more confident he was in the decision.

Steeling himself, Fine started into the woods.










December 23, C.Y. 989
Canterlot Castle


Ponies stared, but Fine ignored the lot of them. Though he’d barely eaten, he hardly noticed the pangs of his stomach. His coat was grimy, his mane had lost most of its dye and his body ached with all the walking he’d done, even with the train ride from Ponyville. His eyes were locked on his goal: the throne room doors. The guards tried to impede him at first; some recognized him and backed off, and those who didn’t saw the look on his face and wisely thought better of it.

Fine had been thinking a lot during his journey. The more he thought, the angrier he’d become. The knowledge Celestia had given him went beyond just a brief moment in history, for some of the tyrant’s memories had bled in along with her good counterpart’s. Fine realized so much about the causes behind Equestria’s bitter state that he could completely rewrite the books himself and outrage every historian who ever lived over the past thousand years.

It was all Celestia. Every law passed, painted so innocently as helping the public, had been painfully designed to spread hatred amongst the races and social classes. Every war supposedly waged for good intentions had been carefully orchestrated and arranged to be as bloody and painful as possible. He didn’t have all the details, only smidgens of information spanning the centuries, but it was more than enough for a pony like him to connect the dots and see the big picture.

And what he saw was a carefully woven tapestry of pre-engineered pain, suffering and death. Oh yes, Celestia was a brilliant chessmaster, but now he had her lessons in his head.

And Fine was a very good student.

He was overdue for a vision. It was the one thought that made him smile. It was that smile that kept the gawkers at bay, from Ponyville to Canterlot.

Though his legs protested, Fine shoved the great doors open. He stood tall as all the delegates and nobles turned their eyes on the pony who dared to interrupt the afternoon court. Gasps rang out at his disheveled appearance and grim glare, which he turned directly on the visibly startled princess on her gilded throne. Fine waited not for instructions, but marched straight towards Celestia.

The princess’s surprised expression quickly shifted into a grin. She clapped her hooves, the sound cracking throughout the chamber. “Clear the throne room. I would have a private word with Mr. Crime.”

The nobles made no attempt to argue, hurrying out and casting disgusted looks Fine’s way. He ignored every last one of them, focusing all his venom and hate upon the smiling princess.

“Not you, Scrolls,” Celestia said, stretched a hoof towards the scribe at her side. “I want you here.”

The doors closed just as Fine stopped at the stairs, staring up at Celestia with a teeth-baring snarl. “Hello again, queen bitch.”

Celestia tsked and shook her head. “Such vulgarity is unbecoming of any pony, Fine. You will not use such words again.”

He snarled and scuffed the carpet. “You sit on your throne and you laugh, don’t you? Laugh at the hell you’ve created, at the pathetic sheep of a citizenry that hail you as the great bringer of good.”

Her smirk never fading, Celestia leaned forward. “Just say it, Fine.”

“I hate you.” He poured all his menace into the words. “You’re an abomination and I hate you.”

She leaned back, her smile only making his rage more pronounced. They gazed at one another for several seconds, her calm and pleasant, him seething.

“You’re a day early.”

Fine eyed her. “For what?”

Her smile broadened a touch. “I said you had a week. It’s been six days. You got here early. I’m impressed.”

“You mean you wanted me to—”

It hit before Fine even understood, and when he did he made no attempt to stop it. He lunged for Celestia with an intense and fervent desire to spill her blood. It was such an incredibly good image and he had to make it real! To hear her scream would give him more joy than he could imagine.

Yet he found himself coming to a halt halfway up the steps. He struggled against his own body, snarling and cursing, but his legs would not move. “Come on,” he hissed between strained breaths. “M-move! I want to open you up!” He gazed upon the still-calm Celestia, imagining every cut, every broken bone, every shriek. A giggle escaped him even as he fought to overcome whatever it was that held him back. Tears began to stream down his cheeks and he wriggled in place. “Why? What is wrong with me?!”

Celestia’s horn shined, and suddenly something else was in his face. It was a mare, a wide-eyed, silver unicorn who appeared as surprised to be there as he was to see her.

Fine’s grin came back, and so did the movement in his legs. He caught the mare in his hooves and bit into her shoulder so hard he tasted blood. She shrieked and tried to escape, firing weak lasers that seared his coat; Fine responded by grabbing her by the head and slamming it into the stairs. It only took three hits to crack the horn.

Fine jerked the knife from around his neck and raised it high. “Bleed!” The weapon came down, stabbing deep into the mare’s good shoulder before she could crawl away. He could feel it tear into muscle and twisted the weapon around, savoring her shrieks. Howling with laughter, Fine stabbed again and again, always aiming for the places he knew would do the least damage.

The mare begged for mercy, pleaded to Celestia for help, cried for her father. Fine could feel an erection coming on from the noise and began to laugh hysterically. With little effort, he turned her onto her back. He stabbed the knife into her chest at a shallow angle, set a knee to her shoulder and pulled. She shrieked and squirmed, legs hanging limp from his carefully aimed attacks. It took him several seconds, but at last Fine heard the crack of a rib; it took very little effort to make it stick out of her chest like a beautiful, grotesque blade.

His energy was slipping. Time to wrap this up. He leaned over the mare, pressing his foreleg against her throat and gazing into her eyes. She choked down a sob, blood dribbling from the corner of her lip and tears streaming down the sides of her face.

Her words came out in a gurgling whisper. “C-Celestia… w-w-why?”

A shudder coursed through Fine. “Oh, but that’s beautiful.”

Then his knife pierced the side of her head. The mare spasmed and coughed, eyes going wide as death began to take hold. Fine took in every second of it: the tiny twitches of the lips, the rapidly-blinking eyes, the sharp breaths laced with a soft hiss. He moaned at the sheer pleasure she gave him.

The motions stopped. Fine stared at her for a while, the pleasure gradually fading until the disgust kicked in. He surveyed his work from up close, breath coming in slow gasps, but he felt no self-loathing for this one. He jerked the knife from the poor mare’s face and stood, glaring up at the ever-calm Celestia.

“You’re… a…” He struggled, his eyes locked on her expressionless face. His lips shook, his heart pounded, his jaw began to ache. And then, though it took all the willpower he could muster…

“Bitch.”

Celestia offered a toothy, gleeful grin. “You’re perfect.”

Fine peered at her, slowly returning the knife to its place around his neck. Though his anger continued to bubble under the surface, his latest kill had calmed him significantly. “I know. You want a Mane Archon who will challenge you, who wants to see you dead.”

“And who will resist me with everything he has.” Celestia’s hooves were shaking. “I’ve never had a Mane Archon with such determination. I am going to have so much fun watching you squirm. To know your anger and desperation as you struggle in vain to take me down… It’s going to be exquisite.” She leaned forward once more. “But I must know; how did you escape the Everfree Forest?”

He cocked his head, unsure of the purpose behind such a query. Seeking to get past this pointless tangent, he chose to answer quickly. “I don’t know. Somehow I just knew where to go.”

“Hmm…” Her smile became a smirk and she gestured. “Come here.”

Though just being in the same room with her filled Fine with disgust, he obeyed, stepping over poor Scrolls and stopping just before the throne. Celestia leaned forward and tapped his horn with her own, and he felt a the familiar tingling of magic flow through him.

Her smile broadened. “Why, you spoke to Luna!”

He blinked. “I did?”

“She came to you in your dream and gave you what you needed.” Celestia rubbed her chin, but didn’t lose her satisfied expression. “Dear Luna. Even as a filly, she couldn’t resist playing with my toys. Having her nod of approval only makes you that much more qualified. Perhaps the two of you will work together when I bring her back in the next decade.”

“Whatever.” Fine made a cutting motion with his hoof, effectively catching her attention. “Obviously I’ve got the job. I’m going now, before I throw up for looking at you.”

Fine didn’t get a chance to turn away. Instead, he found himself floating upside down in a golden glow. “Oh, come on. What now?”

“Not so fast, Mr. Crime.” He floated up so he was face-to face with Celestia, who tapped his muzzle with a grin. “Before you can go about following my every command while trying to murder me, there’s one more issue that needs to be addressed.”

“Like what?” Fine struggled against her magical grasp, knowing it was pointless but still wanting to show his dissatisfaction. “You can’t tell me you’ve got another bucking test!”

“Hardly.” She angled him so that he gazed upon the corpse lying on the stairs. His stomach churned at the sight of his handiwork. “You’re still a Bloodmane, Fine, and that’s a problem.”

He shot her a scowl. “I thought you liked that I was a Bloodmane.”

“I did, but it adds a bit of unpredictability and makes you something of a liability.” Celestia shook her head. “I want you in control of your faculties at all times. Makes the game between us more interesting.”

“Great. So what do you intend to do, drop me into the Mirror Pool like Pinkie?”

“No.” Celestia pouted at the mention of her recent deed. “As much as I wanted to do that with you, I still don’t trust the spell to achieve its purpose without some adverse side effects. No, we’re going to have to use the traditional cure.”

Fine paused to stare at her. For a moment he wondered if he’d not just heard incorrectly. “What do you mean, ‘traditional’ cure? Are you saying there’s actually a way to cure me?”

“Of course there is.” Celestia regained her smug smile. “It’s very slow and intensely painful, but it works.”

It took a few seconds for Fine to accept that she wasn’t lying. Part of him was so excited he almost forgot his anger, but that faded quickly as he recalled exactly who he was speaking to. “Let me guess,” he grumbled, “you kept the cure a secret from the public to enhance our suffering?”

Celestia’s smile broadened. “Permit a mare her pleasures.”
> Book I — Fine Crime: Government Health Care
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------




Knowing that Fine is guaranteed to read this later, I must confess that I have always loved him. He changed my life in ways I cannot describe, and the only pony who could possibly share the sentiment is Octavia. The moment he first laid eyes on me, I was smitten. It was one of the most memorable moments of my life.

But, speaking strictly in terms of being memorable, that was nothing compared to the second time I met him. Those three months in the Canterlot dungeons will haunt me forever. It was then that I realized my infatuation with the stallion would take me places most sane ponies don’t want to go. I was terrified the entire time.

Yet I was also indebted.

I hate Celestia perhaps as much as Fine does, but I must also appreciate her. Had she not sought the path she had to ensure Fine’s suffering, I would not be where I am today. If she only ever did one thing right by me, it was that, even though her intentions were cruel. Now I sit here, writing in the forty-eighth Book of Shadows as a leading member of the most powerful clandestine organization in the world. Ponies live or die by my word, and the only ones who can stop me are Fine and Celestia. I have access to whatever I want, however and whenever I want it. By all rights, I’m living the high life of power and wealth.

None of this would have come to be without Fine. I owe him everything, from my power to my very life.

I would happily sacrifice it all if I could just give him what he wants.

—Fleur de Lis, Book of Shadows XLVIII

May 16, C.Y. 1007












December 25, C.Y. 989
Canterlot Dungeons


They were chains. Plain, simple and obvious. Fine stared at them in the darkness, taking in the rusted shackles. He swallowed, but it did nothing to assuage the dryness in his throat. “This is going to hurt, isn’t it?”

Celestia stood beside him, sporting a smug smile. “Oh, yes. It’s going to hurt a lot.”

He hesitated. “I’m going to experience every bit of it, right?”

“Twelve weeks' worth.”

Fine sucked in a deep breath, but couldn’t slow his rapid heart rate. “But if I go through with it, I will be cured?”

Celestia giggled. It was the kind of sound a filly makes when knowing she is about to get her way. “There is no ‘if,’ Fine. You’re going through with it.”

He looked up at her, hope and uncertainty mixing in his expression. “But it will cure me.”

“Yes, it most certainly will.”

Another deep breath. Fine studied the chains once more, knowing he would soon be bound by them. The thought of being tied down and helpless for Celestia’s pleasure made him tuck his tail between his legs. “W-will you at least let me know what’s going to happen?”

Celestia waved to the restraints. “Get over there. I’ll explain once you're secured.”

“You’re relishing my terror, aren’t you?” Despite his trepidation, Fine couldn’t keep himself from moving forward. Knowing there was no point in resisting, he moved on autopilot and let his body obey the commands of Celestia on its own. Soon he was standing amongst the bindings. He looked to Celestia expectantly, not even bothering to hide his fear.

She stood at the edge of the small room, a calm, dark smile gracing her pale features. In the deep darkness she had the appearance of a specter or spirit.

“Put on the chains. Slowly.”

Fine cringed, his horn already lighting up. A shackle clamped around each leg, then a work collar around his neck. Two large half-pieces rose up to wrap around his midsection, snapping together with an echoing clang. A bearing rein attached to these reached over his head to a rubber bit and muzzle piece which, one set in place, prevented him from lowering his head below shoulder level. He clamped the locks and bolts tight, whimpering at the sounds produced.

An intense fear filled him as he realized his predicament. He tested his movement and found he couldn’t move more than a few inches in any direction, and the bindings on his neck and face prevented him from turning his head. He felt a distinct urge to panic, especially knowing that he was trapped at Celestia’s mercy, but somehow he managed to keep his head. Slowly, carefully, he lay on his barrel. It was exceptionally uncomfortable with the metal wrapped around his midsection, but at least he could lower his head to the floor for rest when he needed to.

Celestia stood over him, still possessing her smug smile. “Good boy. Now, close your eyes.”

Fine’s breathing came in slow gasps around the bit, but he finally obeyed. He trembled like a leaf, waiting for whatever pain would come first. Instead, something cool and hard slipped around his horn. The moment it did, Fine felt the natural flow of his magic stifled as if a dam had been thrown over a river.

“There you go, we’re done. You may open your eyes now.”

Fine tried to look at his horn, but whatever she’d put on him was low enough that he couldn’t see it. He tried to speak through the bit, but could manage only inaudible noises, so he gave her a questioning look.

Celestia giggled. “It’s an inhibitor ring, Fine. The same one you used on Shining Armor, as a matter of fact.”

His breathing jumped to a fevered pitch to match the frantic pounding of his heart. He reached up to feel at the thing, but his bound hooves couldn’t go that high even while lying down. The memory of all the things she did to Shining Armor made him gag on his bit. He tried to shake his head and get the accursed thing off, not wanting to even think about the things that ring had allowed to happen in the past, but of course it was a fruitless struggle. He gazed up at Celestia with pleading eyes.

“Oh, that is such a cute look.” Celestia licked the bottom of her hoof and offered a toothy grin. “Well, now that you’re all comfortable, it’s time I told you what this cure involves. I’m sorry to say that it has nothing to do with whips, latex or safe words.”

She began to pace, speaking in a half-lecturing, half-amused tone. “You see, there is really only one guaranteed way to cure a pony of the Bloodmane. That method is simple: you must suffer withdrawal.”

Fine’s eyes grew wide and he promptly began thrashing in his bindings, but Celestia went on. “You must not kill a pony for a period of around twelve weeks. Of course, it could be longer. Depends on the pony.”

Fine had tears running down his face. He tried to voice his pleas, but the words came out as muffled nonsense. Celestia smiled down at him and raised his chin with her magic.

“As you are no doubt aware, letting a vision pass without killing leads to pain. Mild at first, but growing worse with every passing day. I understand your record is eight weeks, and I’m sure you remember how excruciating that was.”

For the first time in his life, Fine prayed. He closed his eyes and tried not to remember the constant stream of visions, the evil voices filling his brain to bursting or the endless, fiery pain. He tried to tell himself, over and over again, that it was necessary. It did nothing to assuage the pure adrenaline pumping into his system.

“Bring her.”

Fine’s eyes opened upon as he realized Celestia hadn’t been addressing him. Though his heartbeat pounded in his ears and his breath came in gasps around the bit, he worked through the near-panic of his mind and tried to focus. His sight, momentarily blurred, regained its clarity.

A pony was being ushered into the room. She was young, perhaps only twelve or thirteen, with a pearly coat and pale pink mane. A unicorn filly with unusually long legs, who stared at him with wide, horrified eyes. By the comprehension in them, she seemed to recognize Fine, but he couldn’t place her. The colors were familiar, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything.

Celestia set her forehooves on the filly’s shoulders and looked Fine in the eyes. There was a menace to her smile that made him shiver.

“Do you recognize her, Fine?”

He attempted to shake his head against the restraints. When he did, the filly sunk low as if wounded.

“Tell him your name, child.” Celestia patted the filly on the head, her gaze never leaving Fine.

The filly’s ears perked and she stood up to her full height once more. Her gaze hopeful, she looked upon Fine and spoke in a thick Grypha accent: “My name is Fleur Purpurnyj.” She leaned forward a little. “You remember me?”

Fine would have jumped to his hooves if not for the weight of the metal holding him down. He stood slowly, all of his self-directed horror shifted in a new direction as he gaped first at the filly, then at the princess. He forgot his bit and tried to speak, but stopped halfway upon realizing he was incomprehensible.

“I thought you’d recognize the name.” Celestia grinned, her hoof running up and down the filly’s back soothingly. Fine watched its lethargic movements, his stomach twisting as he imagined her stomping on the filly’s back. “That was your very first independent mission, wasn’t it? You told Hoofknife you did the job to perfection. Did you really think he’d miss that you let one member of the family live?”

Fine’s eyes flicked from Fleur to Celestia and back, again and again and again. He tried to reach up to the bit in his mouth, but no matter how he strained he couldn’t reach it. He tried to vocalize his plea, silently begging that mercy be shown on the foal.

Celestia whispered something to the Fleur, who slowly approached him. She paused before him, staring at the chains binding his hooves. Fine stood stone still, his heart pounding frantically as he tried to think of a way out of both their situations. When at last the filly looked up, her cheeks were moist with tears.

“I looked for you. I came all vay from Grypha. To s-sank you.” She reared up and wrapped her hooves around his neck, just beneath the collar on his throat. “You saved my life. Now I save yours.”

Fine gaped at the filly, who rested her head against his shoulder with a contented sigh. He turned his uncertain gaze upon Celestia.

The princess flashed a smile. “Miss Purpurnyj will be your caretaker for the next twelve weeks. She will provide you with food and water, clean you and keep you healthy. She seems to have something of a hero’s image of you, which I find rather cute.”

A fresh horror tore through Fine’s mind as he realized just what was happening. Whimpering, he once again struggled to shake his head. He wanted to pull away from the filly, but couldn’t move any further back than he already was. Attempts to push her away proved fruitless. He closed his eyes and imagined himself choking the life out of the Fleur. If even one chain came loose…

“I vill make you better.” Fleur gazed up at him with what was probably meant to be a reassuring smile, though her lips faltered and her ears were folded back. “I promise, I vill vork hard to fix your mind! You vill get better. I vill make you better.”

She didn’t understand. Celestia hadn’t told her everything, surely.

“I think I’ll leave you two to it,” Celestia said, her tone as friendly and kind as ever he’d heard. “It’s going to be a good three weeks before your symptoms show up again. Why don’t you take this time to get acquainted?” She winked at Fine as she exited the room, and he could do nothing but shout through the bit.










January ??, C.Y. 990
Canterlot Dungeons


“Dinner time.”

Fine groaned from around his bit, lifting his head from the floor with agonizingly sore muscles. Lying on his barrel with that metal ring around his midsection for so long left him with a perpetual ache, for the metal had rubbed his hide raw. He winced at a sharp pain in his side, then looked down at the mixture of finely shredded fruits and vegetables laid before him in a feedbag. At its side were two buckets of soapy water with a towel each and a large, closed case.

Fleur, her mane and coat dirty, gave him a hopeful look. “Come, Mr. Crime. Please?”

He looked from the feedbag to her, then raised his head as high as he could.

The filly sagged with a pout. “You cannot get better if you do not eat. Do you not vant to be better?” When he refused to look at her, she sighed and lifted the feedbag in a light pink aura, setting it around his muzzle. He made no attempt to resist, knowing from experience that it would be futile to try.

He had to admit, she was getting better. In the past she made the morsels too big to fit between his teeth and the bit, but now he could easily suck much of the food down with no attempts at chewing. The taste was welcome, too; at least he wasn’t being fed the dregs of the crop. The only thing souring his appreciation of that was the knowledge that Celestia was only protecting her ‘asset.’

“Sere you go.” Fleur rubbed a gentle hoof along his shoulder, her voice sweet. “Sat is better, is it not?” She walked behind him. “Oh, you have made anoser mess. I apologize, I sought I had timing right by now.”

Fine felt the heat come to his cheeks and closed his eyes. He heard one of the buckets scrape across the floor, and then the moist towel rubbing up and down his sullied hind legs. He bit down on his bit and tried to ignore the shame as she rubbed the thing beneath his tail and across his anus. Even after dozens of times, he still hated this part.

“Now, let us take look at you, hmm?” He could hear Fleur walking around to study him, her hooves touching at his side right where the metal could be found. “Oh, you have bled again. You must not move so much, Mr. Crime, it only makes it vorse.”

As if he didn’t know that already; just shifting to try and find a more comfortable position could lead to agony. He flinched as she used the towel from the other bucket to wipe at his coat all around the clamp, front and back, both sides. That done, she opened the large case and took out one of six white bottles. A small, soft rag also rose, and she began covering it in the foul-smelling blue gel that rolled out of the bottle. Once she had a good amount, she floated the rag to Fine’s side.

She came within his peripheral vision and gave him an apologetic look. “Are you ready?”

With a long sigh, he nodded and braced himself.

The rag was squeezed between Fine and the clamp. The gel was as cold as ice and made Fine tense up as it was slowly rubbed all over his hidden hide. The cold was bad enough, but when it reached the torn skin a searing pain ripped through Fine. He moaned and shivered, biting down on the bit with all his strength as the rag rubbed the gel deep into the wound. At last it passed, going out the other side of the clamp. Fine relaxed, panting heavily as Fleur prepared a second dosage.

As with every other time, it took a half-dozen passes before Fleur had lathered every part of Fine’s raw hide with the substance, bringing both an intense cold wherever it touched and excruciating pain whenever it came upon a wound. As soon as she was done, Fine lowered his head to the floor and tried to relax muscles aching from having been so tense for so long.

“Sere,” Fleur said with a weak smile. “No infections for today. You vill feel better soon, right?”

Fine replied with a glower, at which she winced.

“I know, it is not easy.” She sighed and sat, shaking her head. “I do not understand vy I do sis. Princess said I vill make you better, but do I?”

How was Fine meant to respond to that? Not just in a literal sense; although he could be considered more miserable than he could ever recall, the fact was that in the end this would help him... provided Celestia was honest about the treatment. Of that he couldn’t be sure. The thought that Celestia might be doing this just to make him suffer was a horrifying thought, and a difficult one to put down. Then again, everything Celestia did seemed to have some purpose in the end.

Except Cadance and Shining.

He closed his eyes with a growl. Not helping, brain.

“It is okay.” Fleur stroked his mane. “Please, it vill be fine. You vill be better, ve will get out of sis dark place. And sen… sen you can look after me, maybe?”

Fine rolled his eyes up to study her. Fleur turned her face away, but he didn’t miss the worry in her eyes. She’d mentioned this little dream of hers before, that he might take care of her. How could she have developed such an image of him? The very idea of him as a father figure might have made him laugh if he weren’t in so much pain. He wished he could tell her just how bad an idea that was. If only—

Chains clattered as Fine jerked to his hooves, eyes wide and focused on the filly. Fleur jumped back as he let out a vicious growl, her eyes going wide. His body tense, Fine focused on maintaining control even as he watched chains wrap around Fleur’s throat. He pulled on them, squeezing her neck as she gasped and offered a futile struggle against his superior strength.

“Mr. Crime, vat is vrong?”

He gasped, the vision shifting out just long enough for him to see Fleur standing unharmed before him with a concerned expression. His legs jerked against the chains, sending a stab of pain through him. A beam erupted from his horn and struck her in the face, and Fleur shrieked. She fell back, face covered in black and blood leaking from her eyes.

“Please, stop! You are hurting yourself!”

She grabbed his face in both hooves and tried to stop his thrashing; he responding with a muffled roar in her face that sent her scampering back to the wall.

Blood. He needed to see her bleed. He tugged against the chains, groaning at the pain the act induced. He fought to force some magic out of his horn, but it was like throwing eggs at a brick wall. He could almost hear her bones breaking, and he couldn’t make the fantasy a reality!

“V-vat is vrong? Please, Mr. Crime, tell me! I vant to help!”

The urge died just as quickly as it came. Fine collapsed to his belly, his head throbbing with a familiar ache. It took a few seconds for the pain to fade, but that only made him aware of the terrible sting in his legs and waist. He looked to his forelegs and saw no blood, but by the pain in them he knew he’d probably broken the hide. Again.

A terrible understanding struck Fine; this was only the beginning. The visions would grow stronger, the pain of withdrawal would get worse, and he was being cared for by a filly who hadn’t even been told the truth of his condition. His first vision meant they were in week three…

Celestia said he had to be in this state for twelve weeks. Fine closed his eyes tight, a terrible chill running down his spine. He sobbed as dread took over and left him imagining the sheer agony and horror of the next three months.

“It is okay. P-please do not cry.” Fleur was petting his mane again. “I vill make you better, Mr. Crime. I vill. It vas just little panic attack. In few moments I get fresh buckets and clean you again.”

He relished her voice and touch.

They were the only comforts he’d be getting for a long time.










??? ??, C.Y. 990
Canterlot Dungeons


Chains rattled in the darkness. Fine’s breathing came in slow gasps. He pulled one way, tugged another. Each motion sent jolts of agony through his legs, neck and waist. He relished the sensation; anything to take his mind off the throbbing, constant ache that filled his entire body. His vision was red… or was that the blood on the walls?

“Vy?” A filly lay curled in the corner of the room. She sobbed as she watched him squirm against his bonds. “Vy von’t you calm down? I j-just vanted to help.”

She had long gashes in her sides.

Or did she?

Blood pooled around her body, then disappeared.

Hurt her. Kill her. Kill her and the pain will stop.

He screamed, spittle rolling off the bit in his mouth and dribbling down his chin. His body lurched towards her, the bite of the metal searing into his legs. She flinched and covered her face.

He couldn’t say the words, so he thought them. Stop cowering, you little pelt! Let me go!

Fleur merely trembled.

Fleur? Was that her name?

Who cares what her name is! Rip her apart, make her bleed!

The pain swam up his spine and into his head, a pulsating throb against which he had no defense. He shouted obscenities through the bit and tensed as the fire consumed him. He bit down so hard he thought he could feel the metal beneath the rubber. When the wave subsided, Fine fell to his barrel and attempted to bang his head against the floor, but the bearing rein kept him from making any significant impact. Slowly, so very slowly, the pain receded. Fine relaxed and sobbed as a tingling sensation ran through him, something he had become intimately familiar with.

Fine had long lost count of the number of attacks he’d had. He kept his eyes closed, not wanting to look at the still-crying Fleur. The scent of blood reached his nostrils, and he knew it was his own. He could feel the slickness of it on his hooves. He didn’t care anymore; if it were up to him, he’d make sure he bled out. It was a far better fate than waiting for the next vision to strike.

Perhaps it had been seconds. Perhaps hours. Eventually, Fine heard hoofsteps.

“It is okay, Mr. Crime. Y-you are okay.”

Fleur brushed his mane, which had lost all its remaining dye and shone a bright red. Something – a few somethings – hit the floor, and Fine whimpered.

“I need to clean your vounds. P-please, remain still?”

Fleur must have took his silence as acceptance, for she began to clean one of his forelegs around the metal cuff. He kept his eyes firmly closed, not daring to look at her lest a vision hit. The soapy water stung horribly, but Fine considered it a welcome distraction to the murderous thoughts still clawing at the back of his mind. They wouldn’t remain there for long; in time they would push to the surface again. Perhaps Fleur was aware of this, for she worked quickly. She cleaned both front legs and soon began work on his neck. He had to lift his head for her to get the bottom of the big collar.

“Sis needs to stop, Mr. Crime.” Her voice shook as she whispered in his ear. “Please, you have to control it. At sis rate, I von’t be able to clean often enough. You could get infected.”

He knew that, but what could he do save keep his eyes closed and hope the withdrawal didn’t come back? Even so, he managed to nod for her.

Things were silent for a time, save for Fine’s occasional whimpers and the rattle of chains when a dab of water made him flinch. He spent all his time trying to quiet the violent instinct in his brain. The best way to do that was to imagine a lot of that violence being directed Celestia’s way.

“Sis…”

He shifted from his stupor, ears perking to Fleur’s voice. She had stopped cleaning him.

“S-sis… is not going to end vell, is it?”

He shifted his head sideways as best he could, taking in her depressed tone. The sound of dripping water accompanied her voice.

“I had big dreams. I vorked hard to get scholarship, just to come to Equestria and find you.” The rag rubbed beneath the shackle of a back leg, moving slowly. “I sought, ‘If I can find Equestrian hero, I vill be happy.’ Everysing was meant to be good now.”

She leaned against his flank. It made his side burn, but Fine made no attempt to protest. Water splashed lightly as she soaked the rag again, then she began cleaning around the metal on his barrel.

“Princess said I could help you. I vas so excited.” She sighed and stepped back from him; Fine could just see her tail out of the corner of her eye. “Vy must reality get in way of dreams?”

For a time, Fleur continued cleaning him. It seemed her monologue had ended. He closed his eyes and recalled the first time he’d seen her, long ago on the plains of Grypha. That had been a bloody night. He’d assumed the filly would never want to see him again, yet here she was, willingly caring for his health. It would have been better if she’d stayed at the orphanage in Stalliongrad.

She finished at last, and Fine watched as she walked to the door, buckets levitated behind her. “I need to change water.” She hesitated at the door, head hanging low. Fine noted her bloody hoofprints… or not? She looked back at him from over her shoulder.

“Do you sink I could be vith you ven sis is over?”

Fine shouldn’t have opened his eyes. He saw cracks running down her horn and a wicked grin formed on his lips. He tried to move for her, the chains jerking him back painfully. Snarled erupted from his throat and he struggled with his aching horn.

Fleur sighed and left the room, the door closing with a resounding clang.







??? ??, C.Y. 990
Canterlot Dungeons


Bitch.

The chains rattled.

Foul, ugly little monster.

Blood pounded in its ears.

Let me go. Eyeballs. So ugly.

The filly stepped back, shaking as it strained for her with a twisted grin.

Pop them out. Use your horn. Break it off.

She stared up at it, tears streaming down her cheeks. She had no eyes. Her tears were blood.

Beautiful. Let me show you how beautiful you can be.

It could feel blood trickling down its barrel. It snorted and grit its teeth against the pain.

Kill her. Kill. Celestia. Kill her. Fleur. Kill her. Kill kill kill.

Though her lip trembled, she displayed the two buckets to it. “I-I’m going to t-take care of you, Mr. Crime. Please, hold still?”

It pulled back, then lurched forward to strain against the bonds. A hiss, both pained and threatening, rose from around the half-chewed-through rubber.

Come closer. Let me go. Break those fragile little bones.

She stepped closer and reached a hoof. It jerked its head, but couldn’t reach that far to the side. Even so, she pulled back.

Bite it. Let me go. Let me go!

“I p-promised.” Sucking in a shaky breath, she took the buckets and moved around to its side. Its eyes followed her, steam rising from its nostrils with every snort. “I said I v-vould take care of you. I vill do vat I say.”

Little bitch. Gonna pee? Cut you open, make a new hole.

The chill of the cleaning solution touched its side. It twisted away as best it could.

“H-hold still, I know it hurts.”

It roared and thrashed; she leapt back and dropped the rag.

Bitch! Little pink monster! I’ll pour that blue vomit down your throat!

She spoke to herself in her native tongue, unaware that it understood every word. “You can do this, Fleur. Y-you said you would. He’s just sick. Celestia said twelve weeks. Just a few m-more.”

It snarled at her, pulling as tightly against the bearing rein as it could and ignoring the moisture trickling from its neck. Celestia! The queen bitch! I’ll rip that horn off her ugly head and ram it up her ass. Get me out of here, let me go. Let me go. Let me go! It tried screaming the phrase, not caring that it came out muffled.

“Get through it, Fleur,” she whispered, still in griffon. “Just a little l-longer, and he’ll be okay. He will. Please let him be okay.” She approached again, coming out of its line of sight. It felt the rag squeezing under its bindings and howled.

“A little longer. The nightmare w-will be over. Th-three more weeks.”







March 12, C.Y. 990
Canterlot Dungeons


The world was dark. Fine lay sprawled on his stomach, breath coming in a slow, steady rhythm. The only illumination came from a dim light beneath the door. He focused on it, watching the swaying patterns of what was probably a lamp. A gurgling growl rose from his stomach, but he ignored it.

His head felt… he settled upon ‘clear’ as the best descriptor. It seemed as though his skull had been stuffed full of cotton his entire life. Though he had no idea what it meant, it was a remarkable relief, like a massive weight he hadn’t realized he’d been carrying had fallen away. He didn’t ache anymore, either, save for where his bindings continued to leave his skin raw and on the verge of breaking.

The door opened. Fine sat up as Fleur crept in, her head bowed and eyes on the floor. Her hooves dragged, her mane was a mess and the two buckets she levitated barely grazed the floor. She paused halfway inside and waited. Fine stared at her, anticipating the vision and pain and blood.

Time passed.

Fine blinked. Nothing happened.

Fleur raised her head to stare at him. Nothing happened.

Seconds turned to a minute.

And nothing happened.

“M-Mr. Crime?” She took a tentative step forward, a trace of hope in her voice. “Do you… do you understand me?”

Even after all that waiting, comprehension still hadn’t dawned upon him. His eyes began to widen. He closed them tight, counted to ten, opened them again. He saw no blood, felt no rage. Just… hunger.

“Mr. Crime?”

Fine worked his jaw around the bit, which somehow still had rubber left. “Flrr?”

Fleur gasped, the two buckets hitting the floor with twin clangs. She hurried to him and held his cheeks in her hooves, examining him closely. “Y-you are okay? Not angry vith me?”

He wasn’t. He didn’t feel so much as a mild frustration. His lips began to curl back into a grin as reality hit him, and he abruptly burst into mad giggling. Tears spilled from his cheeks.

It was gone.

Fleur leapt into him, legs wrapping about his neck as she sobbed. The work collar on his throat burned from the contact, but he merely laughed. He tried to hold her in turn, but couldn’t move his legs far enough, so he set his chin on her shoulder. Together, in that dark place somewhere beneath Canterlot, they laughed and cried as one.

Abruptly, Fleur jumped back. She touched at his collar with an expression half concerned and half thrilled. She even forgot to speak Equestrian. “I’m sorry, that must have hurt. I just can’t believe it’s over. Oh, praise the Sun, it’s over! And three days early, if my calendar’s right.” She gasped, hooves dancing on the concrete. “That means I can get Celestia to let you out!”

Horror filled Fine, who gave a muffled shout and raised his hooves as high as he could, waving them. Fleur had half-turned away, but turned back at the noise. She cocked her head and spoke in Equestrian again. “I am sorry, but I must get Celestia.”

He shook his head as best he could.

“No?” Fleur cocked her head and gestured to his chains. “But she is only pony who can free you. Do you not vant out?”

Sighing with relief, he moved his hooves in a calming gesture.

“I do not understand. I sought you vould be happy to be free.” She leaned forward, taking in his imploring expression. He tapped a hoof to the floor three time. “Sree? Vy… You vant to vait sree days?”

He nodded as best he could and tried to smile. Even without the bit it would have been forced.

Fleur’s ears folded back and she chewed her lip. “Vell, I suppose. I really vant to get out of sis place, but… sree more days vouldn’t hurt.” She approached at his gesture and accepted his grateful nuzzle with a blush.

Three days. He might be chained like a common animal, but it would be three days without going violently mad, without the pain and fury of the Bloodmane, without having to worry about Celestia breathing down his neck. Though his legs and waist were as sore as ever, that was something he could put up with. He might as well be on vacation in Bermooda.

And then there was Fleur. Celestia would have plans for her, probably something horrid. He needed time to consider the possibilities and prepare for them. The filly had just seen him through one of the most horrible ordeals of his life.

He wasn’t about to abandon her to Celestia’s whims.










March 15, C.Y. 990
Canterlot Dungeons


Fine could hear the filly talking well before the door opened. He sat tall and waited patiently, ready for whatever was about to be thrown his way. He ran through possibilities, each worse than the last, and bit down on the rubber.

The door opened and Fleur’s voice resounded in his ears. “Vait until you see, Princess! He is new stallion. Come, look.”

Celestia strode through the door, a bouncing filly hot on her heels. She had that calm, calculating smile he’d grown accustomed to, the same smile she got when she knew something unpleasant may be about to happen. She sat before Fine, who matched her smile with a patient, emotionless stare. Fleur, apparently unaware of the sudden friction in the room, pranced to Fine’s side and beamed up at the princess.

Celestia said nothing, and neither Fine nor Fleur pressed her. It was apparent that she was waiting for him to react. Though Fleur fidgeted with barely contained excitement, Fine kept perfectly still, his eyes set upon Celestia’s.

At last the princess nodded. “Well, it seems you are all better. That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

His eyelids lowered, but he managed to keep from growling.

“Well, no time like the present.” Celestia’s horn shined. “Let’s test this out properly, hmm?”

The shackles on Fine’s legs snapped open one at a time, revealing hairless, bright red skin covered in blisters and scabs. The bearing rein and collar were removed, allowing Fine to work his jaw properly, and he smacked his lips a few times. It seemed odd to not have the taste of rubber on his tongue.

At last, the main casing around his barrel was removed, and this time it really was a great weight off his back. He stretched with a low moan, then glanced back to find much of his midsection in a similar condition to the rings around his legs. It was a nasty sight to say the least, but Fine didn’t care. His coat would grow back; the Bloodmane wouldn’t.

At least, he presumed it wouldn’t.

“All better?”

He looked up at Celestia and her smug smile that made his stomach roil. Yet despite his loathing, he knew that she had this coming, so he grudgingly bowed his head to her. “It is. Th… Thank you, Celestia.”

She cocked her head, a hoof to her chin. “Really? Even knowing what a big favor I did for you, I assumed the nine weeks of ever-worsening agony would make you hate me for this.”

He smirked as he pushed the magic inhibitor ring from his horn. “Disappointed?”

She raised her hooves in a shrug. “Maybe a little. That’s okay, though, I’ll fix that pretty quickly.”

“I don’t doubt it,” he said, his frown coming back. “And for the record, I do still hate you. I’m just obligated to give credit where it’s due.” He leaned over and nudged the grinning Fleur. “Even if you didn’t spend the time with me like Fleur did.”

“Well, I do have a world of misery to run.” Celestia chuckled and turned to Fleur. Her voice became motherly. “Now then, I believe it’s time for a little filly’s reward.”

Fine tensed in preparation, while Fleur bounced in place. Once again, she forgot to speak in Equestrian. “I did good, didn’t I? It was really hard, but I pulled through just as I promised!”

Celestia nodded and spoke in perfect griffon. “You did wonderfully, Miss Purpurnyj, and I’m sure Fine appreciates your hard work, but I’m afraid our business is at an end.”

The filly paused and cocked her head with an uncertain frown. She sat back to think on this response, clearly at a loss. Celestia eyed her with that dangerous smile, then turned her eyes upon Fine. His ears perked.

“Kill her.”

“What?” Fleur jumped to her hooves, eyes huge and pupils shrunk to pinpricks. “B-but I did what you asked!”

“And you did a remarkable job,” Celestia agreed, ever with that pleasant smile. “Yet I’m afraid you know far too much now. We can’t have unpredictable little ponies running around Equestria telling others about the cure for the Bloodmane, now can we?”

Fine had been fighting with himself throughout this conversation, but at last his body turned to Fleur of its own accord. The filly backed away from him, head shaking frantically. “N-no, please. You saved me back in Grypha, I… I saved you now. You w-wouldn’t really kill me, w-would you, Mr. Crime?”

As a matter of fact, he had no intention of it. This was one of the scenarios Fine had predicted. Now he just had to hope his predictions were accurate. “Celestia, wait.”

The princess raised an eyebrow, her expression curious. “Go ahead.”

The tension in Fine’s legs eased, but he kept himself from heaving a relieved sigh. He turned to her, determined to maintain a businesslike manner. “I think it would be better if we named Fleur an Archon.”

Celestia chuckled and shook her head. “Ah, yes, I saw this one coming from a mile away. She’s a little young for Archon work, is she not?”

“She’ll be less obvious that way,” he countered, offering his own confident smile. “She can’t be more than thirteen. If you check the records, you’ll find I was that age when I signed up.”

“Hmm…” Celestia glanced between the two of them. “Of course, you’re just trying to protect her because she helped you through a traumatic ordeal. Will she really make for a good Archon?”

“You’re absolutely right, I am trying to protect her.” He nodded at Fleur, whose face lit up at the affirmation. “I’m also acknowledging a valuable resource. Fleur has no family ties – I personally made sure of that – and from listening to her these past few months I know that her primary direction for the past four years has been finding me. Then she remained here for twelve weeks tending to a raging maniac. I believe that’s called loyalty, and I can use it.”

“You are enjoying this.” Celestia grinned at him. “Do you really think I hadn’t already thought of all that?”

“Oh, I know you did,” he replied with confidence. “But you weren’t going to let me take her in unless I made the arguments, right?”

Fleur sputtered, her cheeks going red and hope in her eyes. “T-take me in?” She clamped her lips between two hooves when Fine made a silencing motion.

Celestia studied Fine, her smirk growing broader by the second. He held his ground and maintained a confident demeanor, but in his mind he prayed. He had a backup plan, but if this didn’t work then Fleur’s chances would be slim. If the princess stared for long enough he might start sweating bricks.

“Very well.” Celestia nodded at last. “I will permit this. After all, she did do a good job and may prove valuable.”

It took all Fine’s willpower not to show his relief. “Excellent. I will—”

She raised a hoof. “I have one condition.” She turned to Fleur. “Listen well, little one, for this is important.”

Fleur nodded frantically. “I’ll listen, I will!”

“Good.” The princess turned back to Fine. “I don’t want the cure for the Bloodmane being known to the public. So, if Fleur ever reveals this information to the general public, you will kill her immediately, as well as any ponies she told. Am I clear, Fine?”

She always knew precisely where to poke, didn’t she? Fine offered the princess a toothy smile and replied through clenched teeth, “Like an expertly crafted window, seconds before I buck it into a thousand tiny shards.”

“Remember, those shards can cut deep.” Celestia giggled, then turned to the door. “Well, I’ll give you the night to recover. Tomorrow it’s back to the grindstone for you, my little pony.”

Fine kept his grin until after Celestia had been gone for a few seconds. “Goddess, but I hate that mare.”

“Umm… Mr. Crime?” Fleur was sitting by the wall, her head low but her eyes hopeful. “Are you really going to take me in?”

He sighed and rubbed his head; dealing with her was going to be a trick. “Well… yes.”

She all but tackled him, hooves clamping around his sore neck. “Yes! Thank you, thank you so much!”

He cringed at the pain of her touch, but held her tightly anyway. He spoke to her in griffon, suspecting it would be easier for her. “You did me a huge service, Fleur. I should be the one thanking you. But know it won’t be easy.”

“I don’t care!” She pulled back and rubbed tears from her eyes. “I’ll finally have a family again, even if it’s just one pony. And the fact that it’s you makes it even better!”

With hooves to her shoulders, Fine pushed her into a sitting position. “Now hold on, Fleur, I need you to understand this situation. I just got you named an Archon. Do you know what that means?”

“Umm…” She bowed her head. “I th-think so. Even in Grypha, everypony and everygriffon were afraid of Archons. It’s like being the Boogiepony.”

Fine couldn’t help smiling; she was charmingly accurate. “That’s right, we’re boogieponies. We have to do bad things, but we try to only do them to bad ponies. Celestia will have us hurt the good ones too, though.”

“L-Like how she wanted you to kill me?” Tears returned to her eyes and she chewed her lip. “I thought Celestia was a good pony.”

With a fresh sigh, Fine held the filly close. “I’m sorry, Fleur, but she’s not. She’s the most evil pony in the world, and we work for her.”

“D-do we have to?” she looked up at him with hopeful eyes, cheek pressed to his skin-bare chest. “Why not just leave?”

He knelt to her level and offered as pleasant a smile as he could offer. “We can’t. It’s impossible.” At her frown, he set his hoof beneath her chin. “I’m going to teach you. You’ll learn how to be an Archon, but you’ll also learn how to avoid hurting the wrong ponies. It’s going to be tricky, and I need you to be a good student. Can you do that for me?”

Her lips curved up and she rubbed her tears away. “I can do anything for you, Mr. Crime.”

“Please, call me Fine.” Fleur giggled at his cringing face and nodded. “From here on out, you’re my apprentice. And…” He leaned over to observe her cutie mark. “I’m giving you a new name.”

Her giggling went on for a few seconds as she worked to control herself. “I think ‘Fleur Crime’ sounds silly.”

“Actually, I was thinking ‘Fleur de Lis.’ ”

She blinked, then turned to study her flank. She grinned and nodded. “I like that one.”

“Good.” He hesitated, glancing at the door. He half expected Celestia to be listening in, but what did it matter? “Thank you, Fleur. Thank you for staying with me all this time. You’ve given me a special gift, and I will never forget it.”

“It was scary.” She examined him, rubbing a hoof along the coat beneath his red-skinned flesh. With a  warm smile, she leaned into him. “It was worth it.”

He held her close, enjoying her peaceful presence. Yet his mind was far from comforted, for Fine knew what this moment really meant for her. He’d not just acquired an apprentice, but also an ally. His first in the great trial that was coming. Fine knew that he would probably fail, and in all likelihood Fleur would burn with him.

Yet his thoughts turned to a filly whose parents had been tortured, to a crying statue hidden in the woods, to a pair of lovers lost in the darkness, and to a foal whose mind had been ripped in two.

For the first time in his life, Fine’s mind was clear. He had Celestia to thank for that.

He would do so by spending the rest of his life seeking a way to bring her down.
	
> Intermission I – Prodigy
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------




Twilight Sparkle. A name I knew before even becoming the Mane Archon. It was clear I’d be hearing about her again and that Celestia would probably make her life a living Tartarus, but when I first laid eyes on her, the game changed.

Celestia and I, for the one and only time, were on the same page. I had my doubts, but Twilight’s destiny seemed clear. I think she is the only pony Celestia ever truly feared, and for good reason. We gazed upon her as a filly and saw life and death, a universe made real. Celestia fully believed that, through Twilight, the world could be either saved or ruined. Go figure, she was right and wrong at the same time.

Should she ever read this, I have just one thing I would say to Twilight: I hope that your destiny is far brighter than that which came to be. And if ever a pony offers you wings, run like your very soul depends upon it. I don’t think I need to explain why.

—Verity Fine Crime, Book of Shadows XLVIII

May 17, C.Y. 1007












November 2, C.Y. 991
Canterlot Castle


Fine scribbled over the parchment as his horn continued to vibrate. He almost couldn’t hold his quill properly from all the interference. Whatever filled the air, it seemed to be fading steadily. He grabbed a potion from a nearby shelf, checked for the “Canterlot” label and then pulled out the stopper with his teeth. Letter finished, he rolled it up and stuffed it into the bottle, watching intently as it dissolved.

Now there was nothing to do but wait.

He left his desk and stood at the window, gazing at the bright autumn sky. In all his life, he’d never seen or felt anything like it; a massive circle of colors spreading through the air as if from an explosion. He’d read about the Sonic Rainboom in one of the older volumes of the Book of Shadows – the fifth or sixth one, if he recalled correctly – but never imagined he’d actually see it. Whoever managed to perform such an incredible act needed to be found. Celestia would want to know about such a pony, and it was thus important that Fine learned as much as he could. The more he knew, and the quicker he knew it, the more likely it was that he’d minimize the damage.

Yet the steadily fading vibrations in Fine’s horn had nothing to do with Sonic Rainbooms. That had been magic on an incredible scale, and it had originated in Canterlot. Celestia would be focused on the source, as would all the Archons who had received Fine’s letter. He imagined he would be getting reports soon, so he hurried back to his desk.

In the meantime, he wrote another batch of orders which he directed towards his four Cloudsdale agents. The rainboom had come from that direction, so it made sense to start there.

It took several minutes for the responses to roll in. Most of his agents had no idea of the source of either incident. Annoying, but understandable. Fine replied by pushing them to learn as much as they could. The two incidents had to be connected, of that he remained certain. They were just too big independently for him to believe anything else.

A letter appeared in a puff of pink smoke near the corner of the desk. Only one pony delivered those, and Fine wasted no time snatching it out of the air. He pulled it open with his hooves and poured over the hastily-written Grypha text.




FC,

It came from the school. I wasn’t there personally, but I think it was from that filly you told me to watch for. The other students report seeing Celestia escorting a purple filly out of the school.

Can I come by tonight? We can compare notes.

Little Miss



Fine’s heart sank, for he had only asked Fleur to keep an eye for one pony, and that pony was Twilight Sparkle. He’d known that Celestia had pulled strings to get her to the Canterlot school. His hope had been that the filly would prove less talented than the records showed and thus fail to get in. If she was…

He paused to think on what Fleur had written, reaching up to rub his horn absent-mindedly. That had been a huge blast of energy. Could a filly of just under seven years of age do something like that?

He hurried to scratch out an affirmative response for Fleur, sending the message in a special bottle intended just for her, then left his study for a large room in the corner of his suite. It took him nearly a minute to undo all the security protocols on the door, both magical and otherwise. Inside stood rows of about three dozen filing cabinets.

In the third row, he made directly for the fourth filing cabinet and opened the top drawer. It took less than a second to find the file he wanted. Grumbling about having to use such an archaic data storage system, he left the room, locked the door and returned to his study, file opened before his muzzle.

Fine had read Twilight’s background a dozen times in the past year-and-a-half, each when it had been updated with new information. Even so, he poured over the details as if he’d never read the file before. She would be seven next month, had already proven herself as a skilled magic user in Magic Kindergarten, and seemed to actually enjoy studying. Her foalhood was far from happy, of course, what with a brother who turned traitor against Equestria and a father who left the family out of shame as a result. Apparently the stallion now lived off booze in Seaddle and worked as a janitor in some school.

At least the mother still worked hard for her foal.

Fine flipped through the pages, looking over timelines including unimportant dates and events that told him nothing, though he appreciated the thoroughness of the agent keeping tabs on the filly. Hoofknife might have been slipping in his later years, but the stallion knew how to train his ponies.

The doorbell rang. Fine trotted for the entry, having a pretty good idea what was about to happen. A butler stood outside his door, looking as prim and proper as always. “Begging your pardon, sir, but Her Majesty wishes for you to join her in the upstairs library.”

“So be it.”

He reflected on the circumstances as they walked. Twilight’s situation seemed grim at best. What would Celestia do to her? Nothing pleasant, that was certain. Seeing as of how Fine had played a major role in the defeat of her brother, Fine also had no doubt that Celestia would want him there to see Twilight’s demise as well. It just… suited her.

Scenarios ran through Fine’s mind. What would Celestia choose to do? She couldn’t let that kind of raw power run around unchecked. Twilight might make for a tempting toy, yet if she were dangerous and independent enough then the princess might have her killed outright. He needed to think up some counters, ways to spare the filly the worst torments. He couldn’t let Twilight be condemned over this.

Though the walk went on in silence, Fine’s mind buzzed nonstop all the way to the central tower. There he traveled up into the private residences of Celestia until the butler stopped him at a pair of familiar mahogany doors, rapped on the wood and poked his head inside. “Mr. Fine Crime, Your Majesty.”

Fine waited for the command to enter. It didn’t come. After a few seconds the butler nodded and turned to him with an uncertain expression. “The princess asks that you watch from the door. She will see you in a moment.”

‘Watch from the door?’ Fine shared the butler’s questioning frown, then nodded and pushed his way inside. He paused upon seeing Celestia sitting before a small purple unicorn, a filly who was spinning in place with a look of outright glee.

“You mean I can come here any time I want?”

“That’s right,” Celestia said with a strained smile. “Any time you want. Your mother mentioned how you love books, so I thought you’d appreciate this.”

“I do!” The filly bounced a few times. “This is amazing, Princess!”

“It sure is.” Sunset Shimmer walked in from around the bookshelves. “Hello, Celestia. Who’s this?”

Twilight practically flew at the teenager, somehow managing to stop before barreling into her. “You’re Sunset Shimmer! Oh my gosh, I’m meeting Celestia’s student!”

Sunset leaned back with a weak smile, her eyes shifting between the filly and Celestia. “Umm, that’s right. Celestia?”

“Calm down, Twilight,” Celestia called, and Twilight promptly dropped to her rump. The position did little, for she constantly squirmed and looked around with all the wonder of a child. “Sunset, this is Twilight Sparkle. She’s the source of that surge I’m sure you felt a few minutes ago.”

Sunset’s eyebrows rose. “Her? You’re serious?”

“What do you do?”

All eyes went to Fine, to whom Twilight had hurried up to. He stared down at the foal, taking in her curious gaze.

He saw it. The outline, the bone structure, the colors. They were perfect. His eyes darted to Celestia, who met his gaze with one of uncertainty; she saw it too.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m…” Fine opened his mouth, closed it again. He stared at the filly before him, who cocked her head and gained a worried frown. “I… uh…”

Celestia rescued him. “Twilight, that is Mr. Fine Crime.”

“Oh.” Twilight glanced back at Celestia and nodded, then looked up at him. “Are you okay, Mr. Fine Crime?”

He nodded slowly. “Y-yeah, I’m fine.”

She broke into a fit of giggles. “I know that, silly! But are you okay?”

“Oh, right.” Fine smiled and nodded. “I’m okay. I’m just not used to the princess bringing fillies into her private library.”

“That makes two of us,” Sunset said.

“There is a reason, of course. Twilight, come here please.” As Twilight hurried to sit before her, Celestia turned her attention to Sunset. “I have decided to name Twilight as my secondary apprentice.”

Sunset’s and Fine’s jaws dropped in unison. Sunset managed to work hers enough to utter, “You have?”

The princess nodded, but her smile still seemed forced in Fine’s mind. “She has an incredible raw talent, which I would like to see tempered. I feel she would be better taught by myself.”

Twilight gaped at Celestia. “R-really?”

“Really.” Celestia gestured to Sunset. “Furthermore, you will also act as Sunset’s assistant.”

“Oh my goddess, yes!” Twilight began bouncing around Sunset, whose jaw had once again gone slack. “Yesyesyesyesyesyesyes!”

“B-but, I don’t understand,” Sunset cried over the filly’s shouting. “Celestia, why? I’ve been doing fine on my own.”

“Indeed you have,” Celestia said with a nod. “And now you will do even better with an assistant. Twilight will help you in any way you need. In return, I expect you to assist in her studies. Think of it as tutoring.”

Sunset’s ears folded back and she chewed her lip. “Well, if you say so.”

“Don’t worry!” Twilight paused in her frantic hopping to look up at Sunset with big, hopeful eyes. “I’ll be the best assistant ever, promise. And you can help me learn magic! It’ll be fun, right?”

The two stared at one another, and Sunset’s face turned a bright shade of pink. Despite her attempts to hide it behind a hoof, Fine caught the smile taking over her lips. “Oh, but she’s good at that. Alright, I’ll give this a try. Far be it for me to say ‘no’ to Celestia.”

“Yes!” The bouncing resumed, this time even more energetic than before.

Celestia stepped over to set a hoof to her protégé’s shoulder. “Thank you for being so understanding, Sunset. If you please, I have something very important to discuss with Fine. Would you mind showing our new friend to her rooms across from your own? I’ll be there as soon as I can to finalize things.”

“Of course.” Sunset nodded with a grin. “Come on, Twilight, you’re going to love your new room!”

Twilight’s bouncing came to a sudden halt and she collapsed to her stomach with a gasp. “A room? Y-you mean I’m staying here?” At Celestia’s nod she hopped to her hooves. “Wow, wait until Mom finds out! She’s gonna be so proud of me.”

“I’m sure she will.” Sunset led her forward, giving Fine a nod as they passed.

“Bye, Princess! I hope you feel better, Mr. Fine Crime.”

Fine watched the two of them leave, his eyes locked on Twilight. His throat had gone dry, and he had to swallow to get some moisture in it. When the door closed, he turned to see Celestia staring with wide eyes at her hooves. Without looking up, she gestured to him with a wing.

Her voice came out as merely a whisper. “Did you see it?”

He sat before her, not sure what to do. Celestia’s eyes were wide and her legs shook. She looked… “Are you afraid?”

Pink eyes, their pupils shrunk to pinpricks, met his. “Did you see it?”

He leaned back, startled by a showing of emotion he was not accustomed to seeing in her. “Y-yes, I saw it. She’s younger, but the resemblance is incredible.”

“The Unknown Princess.” Celestia gazed at the ground once more, eyes shifting in thought. “Twilight is the Unknown Princess. She helped my sister and I defeat Discord twelve centuries ago.”

Fine rubbed the back of his neck, trying to find the right words to say in this unusual situation. “That seems a bit farfetched. She resembles the princess. Maybe she’s just a descendant of the same line.”

“No.” Celestia’s voice shook. “I know I gave you my memories of that time, but you weren’t actually there. I assure you, Fine, the Unknown Princess just became my apprentice.”

“But how?” Fine raised his hooves high in a shrug. “There are no time spells! You gave me access to the entire collection of forbidden magic, so I should know.”

“You are correct.” Celestia nodded, though it was a slow, subdued motion. “I had all research into temporal mechanics ended eight centuries ago, specifically because I knew the dangers it posed.”

Fine peered at her. “Dangers to Equestria, or to you?”

“Does it matter?”

“No, I suppose it doesn’t.”

Celestia tapped her hoof on the carpet a few times and chewed her lip. “That filly is the Unknown Princess, of that I am absolutely certain. This means that she will eventually become an alicorn and travel back in time, and she’ll have an Element of Harmony. I hid them away, but somehow she finds them.”

“I still think the odds are low for what you’re predicting, but…” Fine sat back and rubbed his chin, possibilities swimming in his head anew. “If it’s true, then… wow. She holds the past and future of Equestria in her hooves. She could change everything!”

“She already has.” Celestia began to pace, her lips set in a taut frown. “I must control this. For all we know, Twilight will go back with the specific intent of defeating me and taking over my kingdom. But if I can lead her in a different direction, maybe…”

Fine watched her, head swinging back and forth with her movement. “You’re really afraid of her, aren’t you?”

Celestia’s wings flared as she pressed her muzzle into his face. Her lips pulled back in a ferocious display. “You’re loving this, aren’t you? Yes, I am afraid. I am the most powerful being in the world, capable of defeating any force that comes against me. I have ruled Equestria for a thousand years, crushing my foes beneath my hooves like so many pathetic toys! This world is my masterpiece of pain, but I have no defense against a pony who can go back in time. My life’s work is at risk of being ripped out from under me!”

“I most certainly am not enjoying this,” Fine countered, pressing a hoof to her chest as he returned her glare. “You’re plotting against an innocent filly as if she were the Queen of the Changelings escaped from Tartarus! If you really feel that way, why haven’t you just killed her?”

“No!” Celestia retreated as if stung. “We can’t touch her, she must survive and grow. She needs to become an alicorn. Don’t you see? If she doesn’t go back in time, none of this will have happened!”

“Oh.” Fine was so startled by Celestia’s reaction that he had to take a moment to reorganize his thought processes. “So no killing her, good. That’s one weight off my mind.” A sudden comprehension dawned upon him and his horn began to glow.

“Don’t even think about it.”

He blinked. “What?”

Celestia smirked and raised an eyebrow at him. “Do you really think it would be that easy?”

“Eh, heh-heh…” He rubbed the back of his neck and let the glow of his horn die. “Can’t blame me for considering it, right?”

“No, I suppose not. But really, an attack out in the open isn’t your style.” Celestia tilted her head with a curious smile. “I had expected an assassination attempt by now, though.”

Fine rolled his eyes. “An assassination attempt? I have a better chance of discovering the Lost Stones of Silma Ril than killing you with some anonymous figure in the shadows.”

Celestia shot him a deadpan frown. “And yet you considered hitting me with a spell just now?”

He gave a disarming grin. “Testing purposes only, I assure you.”

“Right.” She began pacing once more. “Back to the subject at hoof: Twilight Sparkle. I’m going to have to keep her close, endear myself to her in these early years. The best shot I have of making sure she does things as necessary is to keep her on my side.”

“Hmm…” Fine glanced away, already thinking of ways to—

“You and the Archons are forbidden from telling her anything about my darker activities.”

“Son of a—” Fine stomped.

“In fact, let’s take it a step further.” Celestia leveled a commanding gaze his way. “All the darker aspects of Equestria and the world? That’s your fault. If she asks, that is.”

“Great.” He sat and rubbed his temples with both hooves. “You don’t make it easy, you know that?”

“That’s the point,” she replied, resuming her pacing. “Deal with her mother.”

He ground his teeth and tensed. “That filly lost her brother because of us, and then her father ran off. Don’t you think that’s enough punishment for having done nothing wrong?”

“Not even remotely.” Not a hint of sarcasm could be heard in Celestia’s tone. “Twilight needs to be as close to me as a child to her mother. That necessitates getting rid of the mother she already has. Do it, Fine. Make it appear to be an accident; I’d rather not instill in her a desire for revenge against some unknown foe. Might tempt her to do some unhealthy research and learn truths better left unknown.”

Fine growled, his eyes following as Celestia wore a line in the carpet. “Such as you being an unholy fiend worthy of hate?”

“Yes, that would be a stellar example.”

She just kept finding ways to look worse in his eyes. Fine snorted and turned for the door. “I’m going back to my suite; I’m supposed to be meeting with Fleur shortly.”

“Fine.”

He took a long, growling breath through clenched teeth. “Yes?”

“You will not contact Twilight without my express permission, is that understood?”

Head low, Fine looked back at her with peering eyes. Anger simmered within his mind, but Celestia’s gaze commanded obedience. Lips pulled back, he let out a low growl. “Go to Tartarus.”

He waited for Celestia to say something else. When she didn’t, he left the library at a trot.









“Fine?”

“I’m in here.” Fine shoved a letter into a bottle and watched until it disappeared. When he looked up he found Fleur reared back so her front hooves were on top of the desk.

Her ears folded back at his gaze. “You’re mad.”

“Yes, I am.” Fine used his magic to deposit the potion onto a nearby shelf. “Celestia’s doing her evil witch thing again.”

Fleur ducked so only her eyes and horn were visible over the desk. “She didn’t hurt Tvilight, did she?”

“Not yet.” He stood and shook himself as if to be rid of water from his coat. The motion made him feel a little calmer. “Come on, Little Miss, I’ve got a hot dinner about to be served.”

Fleur followed him, trotting to keep up with his longer legs. “So Tvilight really vas source of eruption? Vat vas sat about? Vat’s going to happen to her?”

Fine didn’t answer immediately, preferring to wait until they were seated at the table by a window. It wasn’t a very big table, and was in fact one of Fine’s personal additions to the suite. He had no need for that giant thing in the dining room, after all. As he sat upon his cushion, he folded his forelegs on the tabletop and stared at them.

“Fine?”

He glanced up. Fleur sat opposite him, mimicking his pose from atop her own cushion and a pillow for added height. She gazed at him with a concerned frown.

“Twilight is now Celestia’s second protégé.”

Fleur blinked. Her jaw dropped. “Because of one event?”

“No.” He sighed and went back to studying his hooves. “There’s her brother to consider. And now I…” His throat dried up and he took a moment to swallow. “I just issued orders for her mother to have an ‘accident.’ ”

Fleur’s eyebrows rose and she shrank back from him. “Vy vould Celestia order such a sing? She’s too young.”

Fine turned his gaze to the window, watching as the sun gradually drifted into the horizon. He thought about Twilight and how her life would now proceed. A chill ran down his spine. “It’s going to be up to us to help Twilight get through this. After what I’ve already done to her, I’m responsible for easing the situation as best I can.”

“No you’re not.” Fleur leaned forward, but he wouldn’t meet her stare. “Fine, sis is not your fault. Celestia is one pulling strings.”

“That doesn’t change my involvement, no matter how unwilling.”

The teen slammed her hoof to the table. “You can’t protect everypony!”

“And who would you have me choose, then?” He finally looked at her, his shoulders slumped. “Twilight is right here. She’s going to grow up in the castle. Watching after her is something I can do, even if my options are limited.”

Fleur considered this response, her face scrunched in a grimace. “Okay… So ve look after Tvilight. One more sing on extensive to-do list. How do you propose ve go about it? Tell her truth?”

“We can’t.” Fine shook his head. “Celestia expressly forbade it. She’s arranged the game so that I, personally, am going to be a target of Twilight’s disdain.”

“Ouch.”

“I know.” He heaved another sigh and stared at his hooves… then his head jerked up. “But there’s nothing to stop you from watching her.”

Fleur blinked. “Me?”

“Celestia can’t spend all her time with Twilight,” Fine said. “Neither can Sunset Shimmer. She’ll have to go to classes like regular ponies for a while, and you’re already a student there. Celestia aside, nopony knows that you’re an Archon.”

“No.” Fleur shook her head, muzzle held high. “I’m not foalsitter. I don’t even like younger children.”

Fine spoke in a soothing tone. “I’m not asking you to foalsit. I’m just suggesting that you keep an eye on her, be her friend. Goddess knows she’s going to need one.”

“Fifteen-year-olds don’t typically hang vith five-year-olds, Fine.”

“So be a mentor,” he pressed. “There’s nothing wrong with you taking on an older sibling role.”

Fleur stuck her tongue out with a disgusted expression. “No, sank you. Besides, I don’t vant to compete vith Sunset. Sat’s one mare whose bad side I don’t vant to be on.”

With a groan, Fine let his chin fall to the table. “Why are all the mares in my life so bucking difficult?”

The teenager shifted and glanced out the window with a scowl. “You could alvays just order me to do it.”

He thought on the idea, eyes rolling up to the ceiling as he remained slumped over the table. “No, I don’t think it would accomplish anything. You probably couldn’t do it, anyway.”

“Excuse me?” Fleur’s shoulders stiffened and her eyes narrowed. “I most certainly could.”

Holding in his smirk, Fine waved a dismissive hoof. “Make a foal like you? Keep an eye on her and keep me updated when it looks like Celestia’s up to something? I think a more senior agent would be—”

“A ‘senior agent’ pretending to be a student? Don’t make me laugh.” Fleur flicked her mane and struck a haughty pose. “I am only pony you have who could do se job.”

Fine made a showing of perking his ears in her direction and adding just a hint of hope to his tone. “Are you saying you want to do it?”

“Err…” Fleur’s eyes widened as she realized the direction the conversation had moved in. “I didn’t say sat, I am only pointing out sat I’m best pony for se job.”

“Oh, of course.” Now with a sprinkling of disappointment. “I guess poor Twilight’s going to be on her own. I’ll look through my list of agents anyway; maybe there’s somepony else right for the job.”

Fleur shot him a blank expression. “I’m not doing it.”

“Yes, you’ve already established that.”

The sound of hoofsteps filled the air. A servant appeared in the door, pushing ahead of him a rolling silver stand with two steaming plates. Much grumbling came from Fleur as dinner was served, and she spent the entire time glaring out the window. Fine thanked the servant and dismissed him, then gave Fleur a thoughtful look. It required all his willpower not to laugh at her apparent indecision.

“I sink I’ll keep eye on Tvilight,” Fleur announced, turning to Fine with her muzzle raised high. “After all, nopony else vill do it.”

“Really?” Fine feigned surprise. “You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to. I can always—” He closed his mouth at her ominous stare. “Well… if you insist.”

“I do. Now let us eat.”

Fine congratulated himself by doing as he was told, savoring the seaweed pasta with its curious texture and high salt content. His pleasure didn’t last very long, though, for soon his thoughts drifted to a filly whose mother was about to be taken away from her. His meal didn’t seem so tasty anymore.

In fact, he suddenly lost his appetite.
	
> Book II — Vinyl Scratch: Guardian
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------




Don’t listen to anything the smiling social workers tell you; Equestria’s foster system sucks. I should know. Back when I was a foal, I thought it was because adults are cruel and the potential parents coming in didn’t like me. By the time I turned fourteen, I’d been shuffled around a dozen families, five foster homes and three orphanages. I figured I was just an eyesore, so I stopped caring.

Of course, I get it now. The system was designed to fail. Celestia made a bunch of royal decrees Goddess knows how long ago that were supposedly ‘fair’ and would give less capable families a chance to raise a foal. Let’s ignore the fact that those families didn’t have the financial or mental means to raise foals and ended up giving them back to the system in less than a year, either willingly when they realized their situation or by force when they were too dumb or naïve to understand.

At least I didn’t get picked up by one of those families that just wanted a nubile young filly or colt to play with. I heard some horror stories, and the looks I saw in some kids’ eyes have never left me.

My awareness of the realities of the system may be what drew me to Amethyst. I knew from the moment I first saw her that she’d seen something bad already. I still didn’t care much for myself at the time, but Amethyst?

She gave me something worth devoting myself to.

—Vinyl Scratch, Book of Shadows XLVIII

May 19, 1007








July 20, C.Y. 994

Hoofington


The social worker spoke again. Vinyl stared out the side of the wagon, letting the sounds of the Hoofington street drown out the stallion’s words. It’s not like she hadn’t heard the same spiel a thousand times already. An overcast sky threatened rain and the few ponies still on the streets hurried to find shelter. Vinyl absent-mindedly wondered if the downpour would start before they arrived. Might make things a little more interesting, at the very least.

The wagon rocked on the uneven dirt road. Vinyl turned her eyes forward to the closely spaced homes and townhouses. Though not new, they certainly weren’t the dilapidated ruins Vinyl had been around in the past two or three years. There was some comfort to be had in that, but she knew it to be a small reprieve. An orphanage was an orphanage. She’d been in enough by now to know they never changed on the inside.

The exterior is an entirely different matter. The wagon rolled to a stop before a four-story structure squeezed between a farrier’s shop and some lawyer’s office. Probably meant to be white, the whole building had aged into a dull grey. Even so, it appeared well-maintained; no cracks in the windows, no rotted or missing pieces of wood in the walls, gutters that served a purpose other than holding plants.

“So, what do you think?”

Vinyl glanced at the smiling social worker, an orange unicorn. She grunted, hoping he would take it as a sign of her approval and shut up.

“The headmistress is Miss Dry Eyes,” he continued in that merry way that had Vinyl grinding her teeth. “Why don’t we go introduce you and let you meet your new friends?”

Sure, new friends, to be had for four months tops before I get shuttled to the next place. Vinyl thought about the headphones in her pack but resisted the urge to take them out. They’d only gripe at her for being unfriendly – again. Better to wait until this jerk left and she could be alone in whatever room they offered her.

The stallion led her through the front door just as the first drops of rain fell. Vinyl considered pausing to let herself get wet. It would be fun, and it would annoy the social worker. Letting her new guardians know exactly what they were dealing with could be entertaining, but she instead let the door close behind her. Not now, not in the mood.

The lobby was as Vinyl expected; full of images of happy kids and posters displaying the joys of parenthood. The place was brightly decorated and well furnished. Vinyl turned a circle as the social worker went to knock on the office door. Nothing caught her eye, so she shuffled her way to the office. Another dull home.

Joy.

The door opened, revealing a dark brown mare with a green mane. She wore a pink sash wrapped about her neck and sported small square glasses. “Ah, you must be Mr. Sunny Smiles.”

“That’s me,” the stallion said with a grin. “Am I to suppose you are Miss Dry Eyes?”

“Indeed.” Dry Eyes looked to Vinyl, who made a point of not looking her way. “And you must be Vanilla von Scratchington.”

“Vinyl Scratch.” Vinyl ground her teeth together and absolutely refused to look at the mare.

“Of course, Vinyl. Whatever you say.”

We’ll call you whatever you want, so long as you behave and play nice. Vinyl kept her eyes on a nearby painting that featured a grassy meadow with a lone tree on a hill. Boring, but better than listening to the two adults drone on about the particulars of her arrival.

At least the paperwork had all been done ahead of time. That meant a shorter conversation before Mr. Smiles-Too-Much went on his frustratingly merry way. He reassured Vinyl that he really enjoyed her company on the long trip before his departure, though. Bucking two-faced liar.

“Come along, Vinyl.” Dry Eyes pushed open the door leading into the rest of the orphanage. “Let me show you around and introduce you to your new friends.”

Right. One meeting and we’ll be chums forever. Whoop-dee-bucking-doo.

The headmaster brought Vinyl all over the orphanage. The first floor play area wasn’t the smallest she’d ever seen, and its range of toys for the younger kids certainly impressed. It lacked in items that might interest a filly Vinyl’s age, but that came as no surprise as these places always favored the blank flanks. The second floor sported the learning center, nothing special to remark upon there, save that it seemed to be where the older foals hung out. Dry Eyes introduced her to the half-dozen other teenagers, most of whom were right around Vinyl’s age. She made a point of remembering their names for later, but otherwise showed little interest.

At last, the headmaster brought Vinyl up to the residential part of the orphanage. A full two floors were devoted to housing the foals and the three administrators. Dry Eyes led her up to the fourth floor while droning on about bedtimes and noise levels, but as they reached the top of the stairs the mare grew quiet. Noting this, Vinyl found herself paying closer attention.

Dry Eyes’ smile had faded, replaced with a look of worry. She paused in the middle of the hall and turned to Vinyl. “I would like things to be clear between us.”

Vinyl cocked an eyebrow and said nothing. She knew when some ridiculous, ‘you’ve got to have hope’ speech was on the way. She’d learned long ago that it was always better to shut up, nod a few times and let the ignorant adult get it out.

Dry Eyes heaved a long sigh, and the mare abruptly seemed a lot older. “I’ve been doing this for longer than you’ve been alive, Vinyl. In that time, I’ve come to understand what’s coming. I hope you like it here, I really do, but I know exactly what’s going through your mind right now.”

Wow, that’s a new one. Vinyl nodded and pretended to be understanding.

“And I’ve seen that look a thousand times.” Dry Eyes sat and shook her head. “You’ve been thrown all over Equestria. By this point you don’t think there’s any reason to get attached to anything here, because in all odds you’ll be gone in a few months. You won’t play nice, you don’t want to make friends, and you seriously doubt anypony will adopt you.”

Vinyl felt her jaw drop. She had suddenly become much more attentive.

“I’m not going to play word games with you, Vinyl. You’re fourteen and the system has done you no favors. If anything, it’s made your situation worse.” The headmaster set a hoof to Vinyl’s shoulder with a neutral expression on her face but concern in her eyes. “Nopony here has been through the system even half as long as you have. So I get it. You’re angry and you’re going to be distant. I promise not to pressure you into doing things you don’t want to.”

Vinyl stared up at her, mind reeling from this completely unorthodox behavior. Her lips opened and closed a few times before she finally managed to utter, “Uh… thanks. I guess?”

“You are welcome.” Dry Eyes offered a weak smile. “Now that that’s out of the way, we have a little problem that I hope you will be understanding of. You see, Vinyl, with you here the orphanage is now filled to capacity. That means there’s only one bed you can take.”

“That’s okay.” Vinyl shrugged the hoof off her shoulder. “I’ve had roommates before.”

“True, but they usually try to room you with a pony your age or older, yes?”

Vinyl nodded, not sure she liked where this was going.

“Well, I’m afraid the only space left is with a pony much, much younger than you.” Dry Eyes’ smile grew to give her an embarrassed manner. “Amethyst is only four.”

Vinyl’s eyes became like saucers. “I… uh… don’t do well with the young ones.”

“I understand, but I think the two of you will be okay together.”

“You just said you wouldn’t force me into doing something I didn’t want to.”

“And I intend to keep that promise,” Dry Eyes said swiftly. “For now, though, I need you to be cooperative. Give it a week, and if you can’t take it then I’ll try to see if somepony will trade places with you. Please, Vinyl, give it a try. I really think you would be a good match for Amethyst.”

Vinyl rolled her eyes. “Goddess, this stinks. Fine, but only because I don’t feel like arguing right now. One week won’t kill me… I hope.”

“I know, I know, it’s not what you had in mind, and I— Wait, you’ll do it?”

“That’s what I said.” Vinyl was tempted to smirk at Dry Eyes’ gaping, but managed to hold back and maintain her stony, disinterested demeanor. “You didn’t try to scratch my ears and give me some bullcrap about things getting better. After spending three days with Mr. Freaky-Grin, that’s a nice change. So yeah, I’ll put up with the baby for a few days, but you can bet your cutie mark I’ll be out of that room by next week.”

Dry Eyes sagged as a wan smile spread across her face. “Thank goodness. I was really hoping you wouldn’t fight me on the matter. Amethyst could really use a friend, so I thought—”

“Yeah, gonna stop you right there.” Vinyl turned her sight to the wall, crossing one foreleg in front of the other. “No chance I’m gonna be friends with anypony here, much less a foal ten years younger than me.”

“Maybe, maybe not.” Dry Eyes grinned and resumed walking down the hall, gesturing for Vinyl to follow. “You might find that the two of you have a lot in common.”

“Right.” Vinyl eyed the doors, noting the signs marking one as Dry Eyes’ bedroom. Two more doors had signs indicating the names of the other two adults running the place. Vinyl made no attempt to memorize the names, her eyes skimming along the letters without taking in anything.

They stopped at the very next door, which raised Vinyl’s suspicions. “Why is she here?”

Dry Eyes cocked her head, hoof halfway to the door handle. “What do you mean?”

Vinyl gestured to the doors. “You’ve got her right next to you guys.”

“Oh, that.” The headmaster hesitated. “Amethyst has… problems. She’s a filly with a lot of needs, and it’s better to have one of us around to be there for her.”

Vinyl grimaced; now she liked this idea even less. She was a mare of her word, however, and made sure to keep a semblance of confidence in her expression. As Dry Eyes pushed the door open, Vinyl braced for the barrage. Would it be a bunch of crying? Screaming? Or excitability, which easily qualified as the worst possible thing.

“Amethyst? Somepony would like to meet you.”

Not a single expectation was met. Vinyl stepped into the typical messy room of a foal – in fact, just messy enough to be comfortable to her own sloppy sensibilities. A few toys littered the floor; in the corner was a makeshift art gallery of scribbled, colorful drawings taped to the walls; the bed on the right was a tangle of sheets. Messy, but not unreasonably so for a four-year-old.

Said four-year-old looked up from her current coloring project. “Hello, Miss Dry Eyes.” Then her gaze set upon Vinyl. The filly stood bolt upright and backed against the wall.

“Amethyst, this is Vinyl Scratch.” Dry Eyes patted Vinyl on the shoulder. “She’s going to be sharing your room.”

Quiet lingered over the ponies, giving Vinyl just enough time to look Amethyst over properly. Her overall summary: purple. With just one word, she had Amethyst’s description down. Then she noticed the tiny horn poking through the thick mane and amended her description to ‘purple unicorn.’

Amethyst’s big eyes were set upon Vinyl. “No.”

“Now, Amethyst,” Dry Eyes said with a tone both reassuring and lecturing, “I told you this might happen. We have no more beds. Somepony has to stay here.”

“No.” Amethyst stared at the floor. “She’s gonna say bad things.”

Vinyl’s eyebrows rose. Why would she do that? Granted, she wasn’t the nicest pony around, but…

“Vinyl will do nothing of the sort, will you, Vinyl?”

“Uh… no.”

Amethyst pouted.

“Vinyl will be different.” Dry Eyes glanced at Vinyl, her eyes a silent plea. Clearly she expected Vinyl to say something.

Exactly what that something was, Vinyl had no idea. She really wanted to put on her headphones about now. “I… er…” She looked to Amethyst, who wouldn’t meet her gaze. For reasons unknown, anger welled in Vinyl’s chest. She raised her head high and gave the filly a firm look. “Hey.”

Amethyst flinched, but looked at her anyway.

“I’m not gonna pick on you or bully you. I’ve been bullied myself a bit, so I know what it’s like. Got me?”

The filly cocked her head, eyebrows furrowed, then sat and looked at her hooves for several seconds before bringing her eyes back to Vinyl. “Umm… no.”

Vinyl promptly facehoofed. “Look, let’s just try this out, okay?”

“Please, Amethyst?” Dry Eyes nodded encouragingly. “Think about how nice it’ll be to have somepony here at night.”

Amethyst shuddered and cast a wary glance at the bed. “O-okay. I’ll try.”

“Wonderful! Thank you so much, Amethyst.” Dry Eyes broke into a grin so broad Vinyl thought her face might break. “I’ll let you two have some time to get acquainted. Remember, Vinyl, dinner will be served at six o’clock and it’s lights out at nine. In the meantime, feel free to explore and meet the others.”

Vinyl grunted her acceptance and dumped her pack on the remaining bed. She immediately began rummaging through it. After a short time, she procured her headphones and Walkcolt. As she sought out a certain cassette, she glanced over to see Amethyst watching her intently. “What’s up?”

“Miss Dry Eyes left.”

A glance at the closed door proved Amethyst’s claim true. “So?” Vinyl found the album she was after and raised it high with her magic.

Amethyst stared at the floorboards, one hoof tracing a circle. “Are you going to be mean to me now?”

Vinyl sighed upon realizing that she wouldn’t be getting to her musical daydreams as soon as she’d hoped. “Why would the other foals pick on you?”

Her new roommate chewed her lip and glanced aside. “Because mommy was a pegasus.”

The cassette nearly hit the floor before Vinyl remembered to catch it. She stared with wide eyes at the foal, paying particular attention now to the horn. A much better image of this foal’s past had made itself clear to her.

Amethyst pressed against the corner of the room again, a light whimper escaping her.

Feeling foalish, Vinyl struggled for some kind of response. “So… does everypony know?”

Amethyst’s nod encouraged Vinyl’s stomach to twist. She knew how things worked; every potential parent who came looking for a foal would be told this information. It was only illegal in a few major cities, but a mixed bloodline was still taboo. Amethyst would never be adopted. Vinyl was as sure of this as she was that the sun would rise in the morning. At least she had a chance of landing some permanently family, no matter how small of one. Amethyst, though, was doomed.

‘Problems,’ indeed.

Vinyl took a couple steps closer, but paused when Amethyst flinched away. “Hey, look at me.” She waited for Amethyst to do so, which took a considerable amount of time. “I’m not going to say bad things about you. You’ve done nothing to deserve it, okay?”

“B-but I’m a bad filly.”

“No, you’re not.” Vinyl scowled at the suggestion. “You’re just unlucky. Tell you what, if anypony gives you any trouble, you come to me.

“I’ll set them straight.”










August 6, C.Y. 994
Hoofington


“Vinyl, is there a reason you keep ending up here?”

A cotton swab soaked in a foul-smelling something-or-other pressed against the cut on Vinyl’s shoulder, forcing her to hiss at the sting. She made no other attempt to answer Ms. Woundsalt.

The mare sighed as she eyed Vinyl’s many bruises. “This is the third fight since you got here, and it hasn’t even been as many weeks. What in Equestria could be so worth fighting over?”

Vinyl kept her lips sealed and glared at the picture of flowers on the wall of the orphanage medicine room. She would offer no explanation. What good would it do?

“You can’t keep getting into fights like this,” Ms. Woundsalt lectured as she wrapped a bandage about Vinyl’s leg. “Even ignoring the threat to your health, I’m not sure my medical supplies can keep up at this rate. You don’t have a record for such violence, so why start now?”

Vinyl gritted her teeth and kept quiet.

“I know you’re young and feel like you’ll live forever, but there’s no need to waste all that energy on something so trivial.” Ms. Woundsalt didn’t notice the glare at her back as she worked to put away her supplies. “You like music, don’t you? Focus on that.”

Vinyl made no attempt to disguise her growl. “Are we done here?”

If Ms. Woundsalt noticed the anger, she did a wonderful job of hiding it. “Only if you promise not to get into any fights for a while.”

“No can do.” Vinyl exited the room and made for the stairs, her head low and eyes sharp. A few foals poked their heads out of the nearby doorways to watch. Some cowered back at her glance while others looked down on her with blatant disdain in their eyes. She didn’t care one way or another, just so long as they understood two things: she was not a pony to be crossed, and right now she was pissed off. Apparently the message was clear, for none dared interfere with her passing.

Ms. Woundsalt’s words echoed in her head over and over again. Vinyl wanted to lash out at the bigot, but knew better than to try. She had to take at least some of the mare’s advice and avoid fighting for a while.

That thought nearly made her pause, but for the sake of the image she forced her legs to keep going.

She pushed her way through the door to her room to find Dry Eyes sitting with Amethyst on the foal’s bed. They both looked up upon her arrival. Amethyst leaned over the edge of the bed. “Are you okay?”

“I’ll be fine.” Vinyl pulled the door closed with her magic and flopped onto her bed. “Ms. Breeze told me to stay in the room for the rest of the day, though.”

Dry Eyes nodded, lips pursed. “And Junebug?”

“Same thing.”

“Good.” The headmaster stood with a groan. “This is going to be a problem. I’m sure Amethyst appreciates you standing up for her, but this fighting needs to stop.”

“Well, what else am I supposed to do?” Vinyl turned so her back was to them, hissing at the pain that ran up her leg when she applied a little too much pressure. “Junebug treated her like dirt. She had it coming.”

“There are ways to resolve your problems without violence, Vinyl.”

“Maybe, but it sure felt good cracking my hoof across her jaw.”

Silence permeated the room, but Vinyl knew better than to hope the conversation had ended. She braced for the inevitable lecture.

“Don’t fight anymore.”

Vinyl blinked and sat up to find Amethyst reared up against the side of her bed. The filly stared at her with the kind of big, pleading eyes only a foal could manage. “Please, Vinyl. No more fighting.”

Those eyes threatened to crush Vinyl’s still-bubbling anger. “B-but, I was fighting for you.”

“You’re hurt.” Amethyst set her chin to the bed, her eyes rolling up towards Vinyl in a way that only amplified the effect and left a sting in Vinyl’s chest. “I don’t want you to be hurt anymore.”

“It’s not that bad.” Vinyl shifted her legs so the bandage was hidden. “Really.”

Dry Eyes stepped forward. “Think about this, Vinyl; these violent actions of yours are not going unnoticed. I have to issue reports to the government on such things. What if you take one of your brawls too far? They could send you to a juvenile detention center.”

Vinyl snorted and rolled her eyes. “Just another home.”

“Amethyst won’t be coming with you.”

She stiffened, staring at her hooves and fighting not to look at the filly still gazing at her. “That’s…” The lump in her throat prevented any further speech.

“If you get into enough fights, you won’t be around to protect her at all.” Dry Eyes set a hoof to Vinyl’s shoulder. “Despite your words when you first arrived, you’ve grown attached to her, haven’t you?”

“Hey, you’ve got the wrong idea.” Vinyl shoved the hoof off and started to turn away, but paused when Amethyst flinched. “I m-mean… I just feel…” With a groan, Vinyl covered her face to hide the blush. “I just don’t think she deserves to be picked on, okay?”

“They can.” Amethyst ducked so only her eyes were visible over the corner of the bed. “L-let them. Don’t go away.”

Vinyl and Dry Eyes shared startled expressions. “Amethyst,” Dry Eyes said, lowering head to the filly’s level, “do you want Vinyl to stay with you?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“No you don’t.” Vinyl crossed her hooves and sulked, not even bothering to hide her blush this time. “I never play with you or anything like that. I’m not a nice pony.”

“Uh-huh.” Amethyst nodded and nudged Vinyl’s leg with her muzzle. “You’re not mean. I like you.”

“Oh, come on.” Vinyl pulled away with a grimace. “You’re making it real hard to keep up my image, kid.”

Dry Eyes laughed and ruffled Amethyst’s mane. “Sorry, Vinyl, you can’t deny you’ve made a friend.”

“I sure as Tartarus can try.”

“Vinyl…”

“It’s okay,” Amethyst said, dropping to the floor and stepping back from the bed. “Vinyl wants to do big pony things, and I’m a little pony. I’m just happy she’s here.” She turned and pranced to the other side of the room, where a large collection of very organized building blocks were arranged.

Vinyl and Dry Eyes watched her play for a few seconds, the younger unicorn distracted by an insufferably pleasant rising sensation in her chest. She jerked her face away when she caught Dry Eyes studying her with a sly smile. Would her face ever stop burning?

“I think you understand,” Dry Eyes said, her tone patient. “Amethyst’s never had a pony to look after her like you do. If you left she’d be back to square one. I can only do so much. Please, Vinyl, find another way.”

Vinyl refused to meet Dry Eyes’ gaze, and after a while the mare left her alone. At first Vinyl planned on listening to some music to pass the time, but she found herself watching Amethyst play with her blocks. She wanted to be angry at the foal for getting under her skin the way she had, but such an emotion never came to be no matter how she encouraged it.

It dawned upon Vinyl that she’d always been angry at somepony: at her nameless parents for ditching her in that dumpster, at the dumb ponies who kept failing to give her a home, at Celestia’s broken system for letting them try. For every problem Vinyl ever faced, the origins of that problem could be traced back to somepony or something else.

Amethyst was a problem, and for the first time in her life Vinyl could think of nopony to blame. She couldn’t blame Dry Eyes for having no other place for her to sleep, nor was it the system’s fault that Vinyl ended up in this specific orphanage. Oh, she could make the argument that the system and Celestia and the proverbial ‘they’ had led to her being here and growing attached to a filly, but the excuses seemed paltry.

Vinyl didn’t want to take responsibility for her feelings. She’d never been responsible for anything, and now she was supposed to… to what? Be a big sister? She’d barely known Amethyst for three weeks! That kind of bond took a lot longer to form.

So why did she feel so happy when that foal smiled? Why did she get so angry when the other kids bullied her over her heritage?

Maybe this was less of a problem than Vinyl had thought. She stepped off the bed and went over to Amethyst and her blocks. “Whatcha buildin?’”

Amethyst smiled up at her. “A mineshaft.”

“A… what?” Of all the possible answers that could be given, that was not one Vinyl expected.

“A mineshaft,” Amethyst repeated with confidence. She pointed to the yellow bricks, which were arranged in a semi-domed shape. “That’s the mountain.” Her hoof rose to a half-finished, square structure halfway up the ‘mountain.’ “That’s the building over the mine.”

Vinyl cocked her head, but had to admit that she could see what Amethyst had been trying to do. “Why are you building a mineshaft? What are you mining?”

“Jewels.” Amethyst picked up a pile of green, blue and white blocks and lifted her hooves, letting the colorful pieces cascade back to the floor. “I’ll dig them up and sell them. That’s what daddy did.”

“Oh.” Vinyl was so busy trying to process how a four-year-old understood anything about mines that it took her a moment to register exactly what Amethyst had said. “Wait, so you remember your parents?”

Amethyst flinched and looked away. “Yes… but I don’t want to.”

Vinyl flicked some blocks around with the tip of her hoof, wondering about the words on the tip of her tongue. “Um… were they mean?”

The foal hunched over her little mine, face hidden from view. “I don’t know. Were your parents mean?”

Recognizing the dodge, Vinyl thought it only fair to accept defeat for now. “No. I don’t even remember them.”

Amethyst looked up at her, surprising Vinyl with barely controlled tears. “Good. That’s better.”

“Uh… okay.” Vinyl forced a smile, sat and waved to the half-finished mine. “Can I help?”

“Y-you want to play with me?” The foal’s ears perked and she rubbed the moisture from her eyes.

“Sure, why not?” Though she dreaded the potential embarrassment of being caught playing with a foal so young, Vinyl sucked down her pride and grabbed some random blocks. “You finish the mine and I’ll… uh…” She noted some wheels in the organized blocks beside the mine and grabbed one in her magic. “I’ll make the wagon that carries the jewels to the store! How ‘bout that?”

Amethyst’s smile might have outshined the sun. “Okay! But you gotta make it right.”

“Aye-aye, cap’n!” Vinyl saluted, having every intention of making the wagon wrong. She couldn’t resist a smile – a genuine smile – at the way Amethyst giddily clapped her hooves.









The shadows on the ceiling were as still as death. Vinyl stared at them, hooves behind her head and horn gently glowing. A fifteen second portion of a popular rock song played in her headphones.

Click, she rewound the tape. The same music played.

Click, she listened again.

Click.

Click.

Click.

It didn’t fit. Vinyl kept repeating that small section over and over and over again, lips set in a deep frown and brow furrowed. The music was good, but it also felt wrong. She could hear it, a missing element or perhaps a note that wasn’t quite right. If only she could get her hooves on a DJ booth, but she’d only ever used one. That event had birthed her cutie mark and got her thrown out of the house she’d been living in after less than a month.

That was three years ago. She’d give just about anything to get her hooves on another, even if it was just a basic turntable machine.

The shadows on the ceiling came alive and danced as a red and purple glow appeared on the other side of the room. Vinyl tensed, dread rising within her as she watched the shifting darkness. Turning her head, she looked towards Amethyst’s bed at a now-familiar sight; the filly’s horn was creating sparks. They weren’t much, but in this darkness they were impossible to miss.

Vinyl cut off the music and sat up, removing her headphones and slipping off the bed. Moving slowly so as not to wake the filly, she approached and peered at Amethyst’s face. Her lip trembled and tears fell from her tightly closed eyes, and every now and then a whimper would rise from her. She would occasionally yelp, and every time the sparks from her horn would grow brighter. Sweat beaded the poor thing’s brow.

Fifteen times Amethyst had done this. Fifteen times in less than three weeks. The first time or two, Vinyl had dismissed it as something related to the bullying. When it continued, she’d asked Dry Eyes and found that the headmaster was aware of the nightmares, but not the cause. As she studied the filly now, watching her tiny legs kick under the covers, Vinyl couldn’t help thinking that she had to know what disturbed the filly so much.

“Amethyst.” Vinyl shook the filly with one hoof. She jerked away when Amethyst let out a particularly loud shout and kicked at her. Not to be discouraged, Vinyl tried again, this time with two hooves. “Come on, Amethyst, wake up.”

The filly’s breathing increased in pace, becoming shallow and rapid… but then her eyes flitted open. Her mouth opened wide as if she were going to scream, but she stopped herself before anything more than a hoarse wind could come out. She gazed at the ceiling with wide eyes and tiny pupils, which slowly turned to Vinyl.

“V-Vinyl?”

Heaving a long sigh, Vinyl nodded. “Yeah, kiddo. It’s me.”

Amethyst relaxed and the sparks of her horn died. She sniffed and turned her face away. “I’m sorry. I woke you up.”

“Nah, I stay up real late.” Vinyl helped the filly sit up, then sat next to her on the bed. “You have a lot of nightmares.”

“No.” Amethyst hunched over and leaned away from her. “Just one.”

Vinyl nodded, having expected as much. “You want to tell me about it?” The filly shook her head. “Come on, please? Why not?”

“It’s scary.” Amethyst hugged herself tightly. “I don’t wanna remember.”

Though using the advice of some of the adults she’d met made her feel uneasy, Vinyl knew she had to get something out of Amethyst. “Maybe if you tell me about it you’ll feel better. Come on, you can trust me.”

“But it won’t go away,” Amethyst whispered.

Vinyl glanced at the door, ears perking for the slightest of sounds. She heard nothing and could only assume nopony had heard Amethyst. Of course, that was a ridiculous thought; Amethyst was hardly a loud filly. Still, Vinyl moved with great hesitancy as she wrapped her leg around Amethyst and tugging her close. She just knew somepony would burst in right about now to catch her acting all nice.

But this trumped her reputation… mostly. “If it doesn’t go away,” she whispered, “maybe it won’t be so scary.”

Amethyst perked her ears. Her eyes shifted about as she thought on this possibility, lips tightly closed. Vinyl made no attempt to press her, knowing she wouldn’t want to be if she had been in the same position.

“ ‘The Archons killed your parents.’ ”

Vinyl blinked and looked down at Amethyst. “What?”

“That’s what he says,” Amethyst whispered, pressing against her. “ ‘The Archons killed your parents. Fear Celestia and stay away from Canterlot. You don’t deserve this, and I am sorry.’ ”

“Uh… Is that… from your nightmare?”

“Not a nightmare,” Amethyst said before burying her face between Vinyl’s leg and barrel. “I remember. It h-happened.”

“What?” Vinyl lowered her head to better hear. “Amethyst, what do you remember?”

“Mommy and D-Daddy.” Amethyst began to cry and wrapped her legs around Vinyl’s foreleg. “I saw them d-die. I see it again and again. It’s horrible.”

Vinyl’s blood ran cold. “Oh Goddess… seriously?”

Amethyst somehow managed to avoid sobbing. “Some muddy stallion took me away while Daddy… D-Daddy burned. ‘The Archons killed your parents. Fear Celestia and stay away from Canterlot. You don’t deserve this, and I am sorry.’ He made me drink and… and I can’t forget.”

Vinyl gazed at her, mind blank. She fought to come up with some kind of response, but… How do you respond to something like this?

Would the Archons do something so terrible? What for? What possible advantage could there be to making a filly remember something like that? Then again, everypony in the orphanage knew Amethyst’s background. They all shunned her, just like they were supposed to. It dawned upon Vinyl that Amethyst might be nothing more to the Archons than an example, a warning to others not to repeat her parents’ mistakes. Fire burned fresh in Vinyl’s mind. She held Amethyst close and slowly lay down on the bed, letting the filly cry silently in her shoulder.

Images of Celestia came to mind, pure artworks shown all over Equestria of the great deliverer of light and good and justice. For her part, Vinyl had never been enamored with the princess, for she was peripheral to everything Vinyl knew. Yet now that she really stopped to think on it… on the system and its flaws and the way it came to be, on how it had turned her life into one big joke…

Vinyl entertained the thought that she might be wrong. Amethyst could just be having a recurring nightmare, or perhaps she was sick in the head. Vinyl thought on the subject and could easily see how many might form such a conclusion.

It was a veil, a blanket of comfort. Vinyl rejected that blanket. Amethyst’s pain, her quiet sobs were real. They didn’t come from some trick of the mind. Everypony knew the Archons were everywhere, doing the dirty work Celestia couldn’t. How curious that all the nefarious deeds the Archons were accused of had never been condoned by the princess, yet they did them anyway. All Vinyl’s life, she’d heard the same story; Celestia cannot control the Archons, she can only influence them.

The Archons killed your parents. Fear Celestia and stay away from Canterlot.

It sounded like a conspiracy theory playing out in her head, but what if Celestia really did control the Archons? If Amethyst’s little story was true – and Vinyl was determined to give her that much – then it may be that somepony had opened a window into the true nature of Celestia. Perhaps that was crazy. Most ponies wholeheartedly believed that Celestia brought forth everything good in the world. If ponies questioned the word of a goddess, were they inherently wrong, or coming upon some profound and deeply hidden truths?

Vinyl didn’t like where these thoughts were taking her.

The crying had stopped. Vinyl discovered Amethyst cradled tightly against her barrel and sound asleep. Biting her lip, she glanced at the door. Maybe she should…

With a grimace, Vinyl forced her head down and tried to relax. Amethyst needed her. This filly was broken, and Vinyl was worried about her image?

Buck the image, and buck the Archons. She cradled Amethyst and closed her eyes. I’ll look after you, little Sparkler. Goddess knows nopony else will.

Besides, us misfits have to stick together.
> Book II — Vinyl Scratch: Little Dreams
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------




I decided early on to make Amethyst my responsibility. It was a big step for a pony who had never done anything for herself, much less another pony. I knew I’d be out of the system long before Amethyst, though, and something had to be done about that. What was I supposed to do, leave her at the mercy of the other foals? Risk her being taken in by some perverted bastard? No, I needed to make something of myself so that I’d be ready when the time came.

That meant bits. That meant a job. I know I have a reputation for being a slacker and partying, and I won’t deny that living that kind of lifestyle is fun. I’ll be the first to admit that I don’t like doing more than I have to, but when I turned fifteen and could actually work, I did, and I worked hard. Ponies today probably wouldn’t recognize me flipping patties at the local Hayburger in Hoofington, but I was there two days after my birthday.

That’s something that I learned about myself; I like to play, but when it comes time to work, I work. It was that ethic that helped me find my voice in music early and get my first album. I might not have topped the charts when I went on my first tour at just seventeen, but I was still on them, and that’s really something for a first-time musician. It was easy to be lazy and myself with the crowds, because really, the hard work had already been done by that point. I just needed to show up, play the music and lounge around. It’s amazing how success can seem normal.

I didn’t lie to my fans. Every word I ever told them was honest, and I never bothered to put on airs. I just didn’t let on to certain truths. They didn’t need to know that the only reason I was with them was because I knew Amethyst needed somepony to watch over her later, and I was determined to be that somepony. Don’t get me wrong, I love the music.

I just love her more.

I could never really pinpoint the moment I made that recognition. When did I go from protecting Amethyst to loving her? Eh, guess it doesn’t matter.

—Vinyl Scratch, Book of Shadows XLVIII
May 20, 1007












August 6, C.Y. 996
Hoofington


Vinyl stared out the window of the carriage, looking for the familiar sight of the orphanage. For the first time in her life, she was coming home. A smile set across her face, broad and eager. The buildings were familiar and the faces in the street all had names to them. She relished this new experience, but she relished what was coming even more.

“If you lean any further you’re gonna fall out the door.”

“Lighten up, PP.” Vinyl turned to stick her tongue out at her producer. “I think it’s okay to be excited to be coming home after eight months.”

PP, a dappled grey unicorn in a brown suit and tie, sighed and pushed his sunglasses up on his muzzle. “You’re not going to stop calling me that, are you?”

“What? PP’s a perfectly fine nickname.”

“Says the pony who burst into raucous laughter upon thinking it up.” He smirked. “Admit it, Vinyl, your dirty mind laughs at the joke every time.”

“Yeah, it does.” Vinyl returned the smirk. “Besides, ‘Polished Prose’ takes too long to say, and you’re going to put up with it now just as you have for the past six months because I’m making you a truckload of bits.”

“You got me.” He leaned back in his seat with a grin. “Alright, fine, call me PP, but I get to call you Vanilla.”

Vinyl snorted and turned to look out the window once more. “Yeah, sure. You start calling me that in front of your wife. Fifty bits says she thinks you’re in an affair with the hot, up-and-coming musician.”

PP chuckled. “Yeah, there’s no way. She knows I’m wrapped around her hoof.” He sobered and glanced out the window. “Say, Vinyl? You really wanna stay at the orphanage? You could always check out your new place, y’know.”

Ah, it finally came out. Vinyl sighed and let the curtain fall over the window once more. “I’m on vacation. I can spend it where I want.”

He glanced at her from over his sunglasses. “Most people don’t consider an orphanage to be all that relaxing.”

“It’s not all about the location,” she countered with a smile. “Who you spend your time with makes all the difference. Now stop being a stick in the mud and let me enjoy myself.” Her attention went back to the window. She pulled the curtains aside just in time to see a grey building squeezed between a farrier’s shop and a former lawyer’s office, now a restaurant. Her lips split into a broad grin.

“All I’m saying is that you could take the filly with you to someplace nicer.” PP leaned over to eye the orphanage from over her shoulder. “Let her have a chance to see your new lifestyle.”

Vinyl rolled her eyes and turned to him. “PP, why is it you have to accompany me wherever I go?”

He cocked an eyebrow. “Because you’re only seventeen.”

“Exactly. Legally speaking, I’m too young to be on my own. I’ve spent eight months with ponies like you hovering around. You’ve let me get away with a lot of stuff I shouldn’t, and I appreciate that, but I’d like to spend some time at home, with the ponies I choose, without dudes like you having to be there.” She shoved the door open and stepped out. “I know it seems like a dump to you, but this is about the only place I’m going to get some real ‘me’ time.”

PP frowned and glanced away. “I didn’t realize you didn’t like our company so much.”

“Oh, don’t be like that,” Vinyl snapped, then kicked the door closed in his face. “You’ve got a wife and kid to go to! Now git.” She waited until the carriage rolled away to turn to the orphanage.

Eight months away. Vinyl had no idea she’d feel so good about being back. She traced the building’s form with her eyes, taking in the dull colors, the simple design and plain entryway with its… surprisingly fresh flowers. She trotted up to them, amazed at the sight of lush blooms and even a few roses. Vinyl had never been one to appreciate flowers, but even she had to admit they looked lovely. She leaned down to smell, only to be disappointed that whatever scent they’d once possessed had long passed with the afternoon.

Vinyl went to the door, pondering on this curious new development. She stepped inside to find the lobby no different than usual, save for the nice vase of some kind of shrub in the corner. Vinyl had to question how it could look so good when there were no windows in this room. Her eyes on the plant, she went to the front door and pushed her way in without announcement.

The first thing Vinyl spotted was a familiar face near the end of the hall, a brown colt talking with two younger fillies she didn’t recognize. Neither seemed to like what he was saying. Vinyl smirked and trotted up to them. “Well hello, Juke.”

Juke glanced at her. “Hey, Vinyl.” He turned back to the fillies, then jerked around. “Vinyl! Y-you’re back.” The two fillies perked their ears up and gave Vinyl a curious look.

Vinyl, a full head taller than Juke, leaned over him. “That’s right, pal, the queen of the roost is here to inspect her kingdom. If I hear that you’re picking on the younger foals again… well, I might have to teach you another lesson.”

“N-no lessons needed! We’re all friends here.” Juke grabbed a filly in each arm and hugged them tight, his smile like that of a mad pony. “Right, girls?”

The two fillies promptly shoved away from him, to his apparent distress, and turned their collective attention upon Vinyl. “Who are you?” the yellow one on the left asked.

“Vinyl Scratch,” she replied, rubbing her chest self-appreciatively. “DJ, musician and resident head honcho. And you are?”

“I’m Bluebell,” the appropriately blue filly declared. Her tiny wings fidgeted as she stared at the floor.

“And I’m Banana Fluff,” the unicorn announced with a bit more confidence. “We both got here about two months ago.”

“Nice to meet ya.” Vinyl glanced between them to see Juke retreating from the scene. “So, Juke, you haven’t been being mean to Bluebell because she’s a pegasus, have you?”

Juke went ramrod straight, then turned back to offer another of those far-too-big smiles. “What, me? No way. I’m reformed, you know? Uh… tell her, Blue. We’re, like, best buds, right?”

Bluebell’s ears folded back and her head drooped. “I… that is…”

“I can see she thinks highly of you.” Vinyl sat and started stretched her forelegs with an ominous grin. “Looks like Vinyl Scratch is gonna have to start teaching again.”

Juke let out a cry and fled down the hall, disappearing into the playroom. Vinyl laughed at the sight and turned her attention to the two fillies. “If he ever gives you two any trouble, just let me know.”

Banana Fluff shifted from hoof to hoof. “Uh… you aren’t going to… y’know… beat him up or anything, are you?”

Another burst of laughter escaped Vinyl. “Nah, I stopped doing that ages ago. Here.” She pulled out a small jar from her pack and extracted a single white feather. She placed it in Bluebell’s waiting hooves. “Next time he teases you, put this under his mattress.”

The two fillies stared at the feather with mystified expressions. “So… what does it do?” Banana asked.

“It’s got a curse on it,” Vinyl explained in a whisper. “Complicated stuff, but the point is this: it’ll make him think he’s near the edge of the bed. So when he shifts to get back in the middle, kapow, he rolls off the bed. Again and again and again.”

The fillies giggled at the image. “That’s great! Did you make this?”

“Yep. Pretty cool, huh?”

A familiar voice spoke over their chuckles. “Miss Scratchington, are you distributing prank gifts to my foals?”

Vinyl looked up to find a familiar face smiling at her. “Mmmaaaybe. How ya doin,’ Dry Eyes?”

Dry Eyes grinned and gave her a tight hug. “I’m fine, thank you. And what exactly are you giving these fillies?”

“Just a little something that’ll teach Juke a lesson, right girls?”

“Right!” The fillies pranced off, laughing as Banana Fluff carried the feather in her magic.

“You haven’t been home for five minutes and you’re already back into your role of righteous trickster.” Dry Eyes raised her hooves in a dismissive shrug. “Old habits die hard, I suppose. Do try to keep it down while you’re here, yes? I don’t need a repeat of the Pickled Pony Ears incident.”

“Nice to see you, too.” Vinyl smirked as she recalled the gag in question. “That was a good one, but not at all marketable. Is my room open?”

“It is indeed.” Dry Eyes led Vinyl down the hall, making for the stairs. “Amethyst wouldn’t have it any other way. She’s been doing well since you left, much better at making friends. How was the tour, by the way?”

“A lot easier and a lot more fun than I expected,” Vinyl replied with a broad smile. “And you talk about money! Speaking of which, you need a donation?”

Dry Eyes shot her a wide-eyed look. “Vinyl! You just earned some bits, and now you’re going to spend it all? Besides, you can’t donate until you’re eighteen, you know that.”

“Yeah, I know.” Vinyl glanced around, but there were no foals present that she could see. Even so, she continued on in a whisper. “I bought a place on the East side of town.”

“What? When did you come back to do that?”

Vinyl shook her head. “I didn’t. I already knew exactly what house I wanted. I told my producer and we got in touch with the owners. House is completely paid off. Even got some guys to go in and fix it up a bit.”

Dry Eyes peered at Vinyl, her lips pursed. “You really are spending all your money at once, aren’t you?”

“Actually,” Vinyl declared in a mock-lecturing tone, “the house only amounted to about a fifth of my earnings for the tour.” She giggled at the headmaster’s bulging eyes. “Yeah, it was really successful.”

The revelation seemed to have shut down Dry Eyes’ capacity for communication, as much of the rest of the walk upstairs was quiet. Several of the foals either welcomed Vinyl home, retreated at the sight of her or – for the few news ones – watched her pass with curiosity. Just as they reached the top floor, Vinyl paused and set a hoof to the headmaster’s shoulder. “Wait.”

Dry Eyes shook as if coming out of a trance and looked to Vinyl like she had forgotten she was there. “Uh… yes?”

Vinyl glanced down the hall, eyes set on that familiar door near the end. A few foals played in the middle of the hallway, but there was no sign of the one she was looking for. Nodding to herself, she turned back to Dry Eyes. “It’s pretty obvious, but… you know what I intend to do, don’t you?”

“Ah.” Dry Eyes smiled warmly. “You’re right, it’s a foregone conclusion, but you have to wait another year for that too.”

“Just want to make sure we’re on the same page.” Vinyl smirked. “So if somepony comes along trying to snatch her up before I can, I want you to scare them off.”

“I’ll do my best.” Despite her dry tone, Dry Eyes smile turned wan. An awkward pause came between them. “So… how long do you intend to stick around?”

“Two weeks.” Vinyl grinned at the thought. “After that it’s back to work on a new album. I’ll be in Castville for that.”

“Castville.” Dry Eyes chuckled and shook her head. “I thought you were obligated to play guitar and sing about your spouse leaving you in order to live there.”

Vinyl joined in on the chuckle. “I know, right? Apparently they don’t just do country. Who knew?”

Dry Eyes sighed and gestured down the hall. “Well, I’m going to let you spend some quality time with your favorite filly. I’m supposed to be helping Jamboree with supper. Oh, you haven’t met Jamboree, have you? I hired him four months ago to replace Ms. Breeze.”

“I’ll do that, then. See ya later, Dry Eyes.”

Now came the fun part. Grinning uncontrollably, Vinyl walked as quietly as she could down the hall, pausing only to raise a hoof to her lips when the foals there spotted her. Those in the know giggled and continued their game, which seemed to be a modified version of ‘red light.’ She used her magic to open the door as slowly and quietly as possible, then peeked inside.

Amethyst had company in the form of a colt who appeared a little older than her. She was focused on a gemstone, which hovered between them in his magic. A trio of wires were dancing in the air, gradually twisting about to form small patterns and wrapping around the pale stone. The two foals were so focused on their task that neither noticed as Vinyl slipped through and closed the door behind her. She sat and watched as the wires came together in a final form: a necklace.

“All done,” Amethyst declared with a nod and a proud smile.

“Wow.” The colt slipped the necklace over his head and looked down at the gem resting against his chest. “It’s good as new! Thanks, Ammy.”

“You’re welcome! Take better care of the wires this time, okay?”

“I will.” The colt grinned and lifted the gem in his magic. “Momma will appreciate it.”

“Not bad.”

The colt shrank at the sound of the new voice, but Amethyst went from still to launched in an instant. She squealed and barreled at full speed into Vinyl, knocking her onto her back. “You’re home!”

“Hey there, Little Sparkler!” Vinyl hugged Amethyst tight and rubbed cheeks with the filly. “How’s my little sis?”

“I’m great now that you’re here! I started to think you’d never come home.” Amethyst stepped back to sit on Vinyl’s chest and beam at her. “How was the tour? Did the ponies like your music?”

“The tour was awesome.” Vinyl pushed her to the side so she could sit up. “And of course they liked my music, it’s mine. You doubt me?”

“Never!”

Vinyl hugged the filly once more, then turned her attention to the confused colt. “And who’s this? Your coltfriend?”

“What?” The colt shivered and stuck out his tongue. “Gross! No, I’m Ice Sculpture.”

“I was fixing his mom’s pendant,” Amethyst said with a grin. “I’m a lot better at making jewelry now.”

“Really? Can I see?” Vinyl gestured to Ice Sculpture, who approached hesitantly. Using her magic, she examined the gem. Considering the necklace was pieced together by a seven-year-old, it looked quite nice. “You really are getting better at this, kid.”

Ice pulled the necklace and Vinyl released her hold. He cradled it and smiled. “Thanks, Ammy. I’m gonna go show Poppa!” He gave Amethyst a quick nuzzle before prancing out the door.

Vinyl watched him go, then turned to Amethyst. “His dad?”

“Mr. Jamboree. He’s new.” The filly began bouncing in place with a broad grin. “I’m so happy you’re back! Now I can show all the new ponies my cool sister!”

Vinyl chuckled and pulled her into a one-legged hug. “That’s right! But first, how about we go to Maple’s and get some treats?”









The sun shined down on the park, warming the air with its powerful rays. Seeking to escape the heat, Vinyl and Amethyst settled in the grass beneath a tall pine tree. Amethyst enjoyed a small ice cream cone, having already gotten some of the strawberry-flavored stuff on her cheeks. Vinyl, not all that into ice cream, had a Horshey’s candy bar floating before her.

Vinyl hadn’t taken a bite. She was too busy watching Amethyst for that. She could only smile at the mess that had become of the filly’s face. Tempted to let the scene play out to its gruesome end, Vinyl decided it would be easier to clean up right away and thus levitated a paper napkin to wipe off the ice cream. Amethyst scrunched up her face at the unexpected contact, which only made Vinyl chuckle.

Freed from the attack, Amethyst shot Vinyl a glower. It didn’t last. “You don’t like your candy?”

A glance at the bar showed it was still wrapped. Vinyl sighed and set it down. “It’s not that, it’s just… I’ve been thinking.”

“About what?” Amethyst chewed on the final remnants of her cone as she studied Vinyl.

“Big pony things.”

Swallowing the cone, Amethyst wiped the crumbs from her lips with a fetlock before taking on a sage tone. “Ah, ‘big pony things.’ I see.”

Vinyl smirked at the familiar exchange. “Do not.”

“Do too.”

“Not.”

“Too.”

“Not times infinity.”

“Too times infinity plus one.”

Vinyl’s smile grew and she bumped the filly’s muzzle with her hoof. “Not times infinity times infinity again.”

“Hey, you never used that one before!” The filly peered at Vinyl. “Too times infinity three times!”

“Not times infinity squared.”

Amethyst blinked, thought for a second, then cocked her head. “Huh?”

“Higher math.” Vinyl bopped her on the muzzle a second time with a toothy grin. “Beat that!”

The filly scrunched her face up in thought. She maintained that expression for some time, “hmm”-ing and “uhh”-ing. Vinyl giggled at the expression.

“No fair.” Amethyst crossed her hooves and sulked. “I don’t know that stuff yet.”

“Well then, you better do well in school so you can beat me.” Vinyl raised her chin in a haughty manner, though she couldn’t stop smiling.

Amethyst gained a smirk of her own. “I’ll get better grades than you.”

“You better!” Vinyl nodded vigorously. “You don’t have to jump from school to school like I did. That’s going to make a big difference, and you’re gonna take advantage of it.”

Yet Amethyst didn’t respond with her usual cheer. Instead, she bowed her head and stared at her hooves. “Am not.”

Vinyl sobered at the sight. Cocking her head, she leaned down so her eyes were level with Amethyst’s. “Hey, Little Sparkler, chin up. What’s wrong?”

It took some time for the filly to respond. She looked up at Vinyl with worry in her eyes. “Orphans have to change homes every four years. They’re gonna send me to another home.” She bowed her head once more and kicked at the grass. “I don’t wanna leave.”

“Hey.” Vinyl offered a warm smile and raised Amethyst’s chin with a hoof. “You’re not going anywhere. Trust me.”

But Amethyst merely shook her head. “Yes I am! It’s the law. I’m going to go away and… and I might never see you again.” Tears began to well up in her eyes.

Vinyl scooped the filly up and hugged her tight, a familiar pleasure sweeping over her mind. “Come on, don’t start that. You gotta be tough! Besides, I know you’re going to stay right here in Hoofington. Would I lie to you?”

Amethyst hugged her tightly, but there was a touch of sarcasm in her tone. “Yep.”

“Hey, that hurts!” Vinyl held her at leg’s length and offered a look of mock-annoyance. “I only lie when it’s going to have fun results, and lying about this is definitely not fun. So what does that mean?”

“That you’re not lying.” Amethyst rubbed her hooves together with an uncertain frown. “But… how? How would I stay here?”

Vinyl winced and cursed herself. “I… uh…” She averted her gaze from the filly’s imploring eyes. “Well, I kinda know something…”

Amethyst gasped. “Tell me! Tell me, tell me!”

Crap, too soon! “I wanted to keep it a secret.”

The filly squirmed in her hooves. “But I want to know! I don’t wanna leave. Please?”

Vinyl resisted as best she could. She turned her face away and closed her eyes tight. Don’t look, don’t look, whatever you do, Vanilla, don’t look…

She looked, cracking open a lone eye to find Amethyst staring at her with the biggest, most imploring gaze she could muster. The expression seared its way into her consciousness and clouded her mind, steadily cracking open her formerly resolute shell of refusal. Unable to hold out for long, Vinyl groaned before pulling the filly in for another tight hug.

“You’re a monster.”

Amethyst giggled and nuzzled her neck.

“Alright, but first I’ve got to show you something.” Vinyl set her down and nabbed her candy bar. “Come on, kiddo, we’ve got some walking to do.”









It had taken nearly an hour to reach the proper neighborhood, and by that time Vinyl was carrying Amethyst on her back. A far cry from the huddled homes and busy streets that defined the orphanage’s neighborhood, this place had fresh-cut lawns, attractive two-story homes and an immaculate street of thick paving stones. Vinyl didn’t need to think about where she walked, for she’d had this place in mind for many years. It had seemed like a pipe dream when the idea had first taken hold.

Yet now she paused, gazing upon a brick home of two stories. The grass in the yard stood tall, but the shrubs that lined the side of the wall had been trimmed; the vines that once filled them were stacked in a neat pile on the corner, awaiting removal. Vinyl stared up at the place, a giddy feeling in her chest and a dopey smile on her lips.

Holy horseshoes, this belongs to me.

Amethyst set her forehooves on Vinyl’s ears for support as she looked over her head. “What is this place, Vinyl?”

Vinyl glanced up at her. “Let’s find out.” She pranced forward, pulling out the key she’d received from PP. “Time to see if this works.”

Amethyst fidgeted. “B-but what if somepony’s home?”

“Trust me, kiddo, nopony’s home. Yet.” Vinyl paused before the door, key hovering before her. She lingered, butterflies dancing in her stomach and breath coming in quiet gasps. Moving with dedicated slowness, she put the key in the lock and turned it. The latch gave a pleasant clack.

Swallowing to moisten her throat, Vinyl turned the handle. The door opened without a sound. Still, she didn’t move. Her eyes were set on the threshold, breath stopped entirely as she pondered the implications of stepping across.

“Vinyl? Are you okay?”

Vinyl licked her lips. “I just… need to savor this moment.”

Seconds ticked by. Vinyl closed her eyes and imagined a lifetime of moving from orphanage to home to orphanage, of always having strangers watching her, of sleeping in new and abused beds. All the things she longed to be rid of in one ugly little package, wrapped up and to be left right here at the threshold. Her lips curled into a grin.

Amethyst began to fidget on her back. “Umm…”

Opening her eyes, Vinyl took the step she’d been longing to take for ten years. Her hoof landed on a hardwood floor. She’d never touched anything so wondrous.

She passed through a short hallway and into an entry room, her head moving about slowly to take in the sight of it. Her heart skipped a beat; this one room was bigger than any three rooms in the entire orphanage combined. “H-holy horseshoes.”

Amethyst stood on her back. “Hello? Anypony home?”

“There’s nopony here,” Vinyl said, using her magic to deposit the foal on the floor. “It’s just us.”

“Are you sure?” Amethyst rubbed her leg and looked around as if she expected somepony to step out in the open at any second. “Why are we here?”

Vinyl sat and grinned. “This is my place now.”

“Yours?” Amethyst cocked her head, frowning in thought.

“That’s right, mine.” Vinyl couldn’t resist the tiniest of bounces. “It’s mine. All mine! I can’t live here by myself for another year, but still… it’s my home, Amethyst!”

The filly’s jaw dropped. “But you said you had to be eighteen.”

“I have to be eighteen to live without adult supervision,” Vinyl corrected as she turned a circle to take in the bare walls and ceiling. She giggled like a mad pony. “There’s no law saying I can’t buy a home. Can you imagine it? A place of our own, no more cramped rooms, no more having to deal with the other kids, no more worrying about whether we’ll be part of a family. We can live like normal ponies!”

Amethyst leaned forward, her eyes shining. “We?”

Vinyl’s head whipped over to Amethyst, her excitement disappearing in a flash. Her cheeks turned pink and she chuckled weakly. “Y-yeah. I’ll be eighteen next year. And… well…” She sat and beamed at the filly. “I’ll be an adult then.”

“S-so you’re going to…”

When Amethyst seemed at a loss for words, Vinyl nodded enthusiastically. “Adopt you.”

With a squeal, Amethyst launched herself into Vinyl, knocking the pony off her hooves. “Oh Goddess, yes! I’m going to have a family!”

They laughed on the floor and held one another. Vinyl’s chest swelled and her brain swam with thoughts of the future. Everything was going according to plan and she couldn’t have asked for more. “We’re gonna make a great family, kid.”

“Wait.” Amethyst sat up and cocked her head. “Does this mean you’re going to be my mom?”

“Uh…” Vinyl blushed, then chuckled at the unpleasant look the foal acquired. “Yeah, that seems odd to me too. How about a big sister?”

Amethyst bounced and dove in for more snuggling. “I’ll take it!”

“Good, because I’m not taking ‘no’ for an answer.” Vinyl buried her muzzle in Amethyst’s mane playfully, earning her a giggle. “We’ve got to do our jobs properly, y’know? That means I have to embarrass you at every opportunity and you get to annoy me at all hours of the day.”

“Yep, then I’m gonna spread my toys aaall over the house for you to trip on.” Laughing at her own suggestion, Amethyst sat up and sported a faux-serious manner with her muzzle turned high. “Then you can shout at me and tell me to clean up my room.”

“ ‘Right now or you get no dessert!’ ” Vinyl sat up and shook a hoof at the filly. “And what’s with these grades, huh?”

Amethyst scrunched up her face and stuck her tongue out. “But homework’s boring. Can’t we go get ice cream instead?”

Vinyl crossed her hooves and turned her face away with a hmmph. “Not a chance, little filly.”

“How about some candy?”

“Err…” Vinyl tensed and kept her lips tightly pursed for a few seconds, then groaned and threw her legs up. “Oh, fine, but then you gotta take a bath.”

“Aww…”

They burst into laughter and held one another close. After a while the laughter died. Amethyst leaned against Vinyl’s chest and Vinyl rested her chin on Amethyst’s head. Vinyl’s heart swelled. “Normal lives. Think about that, Amethyst. We’re going to live normal lives.”

Amethyst nodded against her chest. “I can’t wait. Why can’t we move in now?”

“Not for another year, kiddo.” Vinyl sighed and stood. “It’s just something to look forward to.”

“I guess.” Amethyst pouted and stared at her hooves. “I want you to be my big sister now.”

“I’ve always been your big sister.” Vinyl nuzzled the filly with a grin. “We don’t need some fancy house or a bunch of adoption papers for that. Now come on, why don’t we explore the place? You can pick out your room.”

Amethyst jumped to her hooves. “Yeah! Let’s go.”

Vinyl permitted the filly to lead her on, a smile plastered on her face as the filly bounced from room to room. Her eighteenth birthday couldn’t come soon enough.
> Book II — Vinyl Scratch: A New Friend
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------




When Fine told me who had his attention these past few weeks, I waited for a punchline. Trixie, the hope of Equestria? Then I heard what happened at the Gates of Tartarus two weeks ago. Trixie – my Trixie – in a duel with Twilight Sparkle. I wish I could have seen it, just to have the proof before my eyes.

She’s here, back in Hoofington. Trixie’s hurting and lost. It’s the same cycle all over again; big plan, live high for a while, crash. Every time she reaches for something, it distracts her just long enough to keep her from seeing the cliff she’s about to step over.

I want to go to her. I want to hug her and tell her that I’m proud of what she’s managed these last few weeks. She’s been working so hard, harder than I ever knew she could, and she lost so much. But no, Fine wants Fleur to be the one that contacts Trixie. The bucker. Doesn’t he know that nopony can connect with that foal like I can? I’m tempted to go anyway. Amethyst has been crying half the day, and I can’t blame her. Kinda feel like crying myself.

I’m proud of my Little Sparkler. She did what she had to, and I know that both she and Trix will be better for it in the long run. At least, I hope so. I just wish it didn’t hurt so much. I wish my little sister didn’t have to be the one to crush Trixie like that. I wish Trixie didn’t have to shoulder this burden. They were supposed to be happy, and instead…

I shouldn’t be writing this. Not now, not with Amethyst staying the night.

Fine, you’re playing with my family. You better be right, or so help me I will go through with the threats I made when we first met. This story better have a bucking happy ending.

—unsigned, presumed Vinyl Scratch, Book of Shadows XLVIII
May 21, C.Y. 1007












August 8, C.Y. 996
Hoofington


Vinyl lay on her back in the grass under a tree, her head bobbing as music streamed into her head via a pair of old headphones. The music was her own, something new she’d come up with just before the start of her vacation. It still needed work, being only a rough draft, and her mind swam with alternatives. Even on break, she couldn’t stop herself from thinking about the music.

At least until something decided to tug on her ear. Vinyl reached up to feel a muzzle and smirked. She pulled her headphones so they rested on her neck and tilted her head to find Amethyst looking down at her. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Amethyst grinned. “Being an annoying little sister?”

“Well done.” Raising to a sitting position, Vinyl stretched and yawned. “I’m starting to think I got up too early. Maybe I’ll take a nap when we get back.”

“Only if I get to wake you by bouncing on the bed.”

Vinyl shot her a peering frown. “Don’t get too into the act, birthday girl.”

Amethyst giggled and batted her eyes innocently. “Okay.” She pulled on Vinyl’s hoof. “Come on, there’s a magician.”

“A magician?” Vinyl rolled her eyes, but stood up anyway. “Amethyst, Hoofington is a unicorn town. Everypony’s a magician here.”

“This one’s different,” the filly insisted. The lack of amusement in her tone caught Vinyl’s attention.

Amethyst led her down the hill towards a gazebo near the park center. A small crowd had gathered, but Vinyl noted that more ponies were going than were staying. One couple walked past them with a sobbing toddler on the stallion’s back. Vinyl’s ears perked as she picked up some of the mare’s words.

“—nerve of her, picking up our foal without permission! What if Jade had been hurt? Why, I…”

Vinyl’s ears folded back as the conversation faded by distance. When she glanced at Amethyst, the foal didn’t appear excited or particularly eager. Instead her face was set in a firm frown, as if she were prepared to do something difficult. Vinyl couldn’t help but wonder what her little sister really intended to do.

They pushed through the thinning crowd, past ponies departing from the scene. Vinyl noted a rope hanging high in the air by a small splash of magenta magic. The rope was taut and shook slightly as a breathless voice filled the air. “See what… I can do? See the… amazing…”

As Vinyl and Amethyst reached the forefront, the aura dissipated with a little pop and the rope crumbled. They got to watch as a blue filly, apparently in the process of climbing the rope, fell to the floor of the gazebo with a shout. Vinyl winced at the sight of the pony laying there with her hind hooves dangling just above her face. The crowd dispersed on a round of laughter, leaving her alone to pick herself up from the floor. Tears were in her eyes as she righted her light blue ponytail and rubbed the back of her head.

Now Vinyl knew why Amethyst had been so interested. The ‘magician’ could be no more than eleven or twelve. Her mane was a mess even with the ponytail. Dirt blotted her coat and her thin frame exposed her ribs. Vinyl glanced around, but there were no grownups remaining.

“Stupid magic!” The filly kicked at the rope. When it failed to do anything but flop a bit, she turned and instead kicked the small to-go cup at her side, sending it flying out into the grass. With nothing left to kick, she flopped onto her belly and glared at nothing in particular.

Amethyst glanced up at Vinyl, then approached the filly. “Hello.”

With a yelp, the little pony hopped to her hooves and rubbed her eyes before turning to Amethyst. She spoke hurriedly and took on a broad smile. “H-hello! Are you here to watch me do tricks? Well, prepare to be amazed!” She closed her eyes and started to concentrate, but Amethyst reached up and tapped her horn. The filly blinked and shook her head. “Hey, don’t do that! I need to focus.”

“What’s your name?”

The filly blinked at Amethyst, then giggled anxiously. “Oh, I’m Trixie. Now—”

“Hey Trixie, I’m Amethyst.” Amethyst gave a warm smile and offered her hoof.

Trixie paused, mouth open mid-word. She slowly accepted the younger foal’s hoof bump. “Um… h-hello.”

“Are you by yourself?”

Vinyl facehoofed.

“What? I…” Trixie backed away, her head low and ears folded back. “I just… I mean… I b-better go.” She turned away.

“Are you hungry?”

Trixie paused and glanced back. There was a look in her eyes that put Vinyl on edge, a look that spoke of fear and hesitant hope in one trembling package. When she didn’t say anything, Amethyst gave Vinyl an intent expression.

Vinyl couldn’t resist a smile, at last understanding her sister’s intentions. Pride swelling within her, she turned to Trixie. “We were going to go get breakfast. You can join us if you like.”

“Really?” Trixie bit her lip, one leg raised in preparation for flight. “I… Are you sure?”

“Come on.” Vinyl waved invitingly. “There’s a great place down the street.”

“Yeah, let’s go.” Amethyst tugged gently on Trixie’s hoof. “Today’s my birthday, so Vinyl’s treating me to pancakes! You can have some too.”

“Your birthday? I…” Trixie turned to them, but her posture was low and her eyes darted about. “I don’t know.”

Vinyl grinned and rubbed Amethyst’s mane. “C’mon, it’s on me. You wouldn’t say no to a filly on her birthday, would ya? She’s inviting you, after all.” On cue, Amethyst sat and looked up at Trixie with what Vinyl suspected was her best pout.

Trixie cringed at her expression. “Well, I suppose I could. It’s just breakfast, right?”

“Yep. Let’s go, I’m hungry! And Vinyl. Nice to meet ya, Trix.” Vinyl motioned Trixie to follow as she set off.

Trixie held back, but then her thin stomach gave a grumble so loud the ponies back at the orphanage might have heard it. Shoulders sagging, Trixie nodded. “Hold on.” She turned and cantered off the gazebo to retrieve the cup she’d kicked away, carrying it back to them in her mouth. At their questioning looks she set the cup down and, with eyes low, said, “I need something to hold tips.”

Vinyl’s eyebrows rose and she took the cup in her magic. A glance inside showed no bits. With a smile, she tossed the cup into a nearby trash can. “We’ll get you something better, okay?”









Trixie’s plate didn’t have a crumb on it. Pancakes, oat sausage and eggs had been devoured without mercy or hesitation, and with the main course dealt with she had proceeded to lick the plate clean. Her orange juice fared little better, two glasses of the stuff having already been gulped down. Vinyl and Amethyst weren’t even halfway finished with their meals.

Now Trixie sat with her eyes half-closed and a soft, contented smile. She hummed and let out a belch. “That was great.”

“No kidding.” Vinyl took another bite of oatmeal. “So where are you from, Trixie?”

“Hmm?” Trixie rested her chin on the table with a sigh. “Don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” Amethyst, syrup coated on her chin and cheeks, cocked her head. “Don’t you have a hometown?” She grimaced as Vinyl wiped her face clean.

“Nope.” Sleepiness laced Trixie’s tone. “Maybe Trottingham? I remember Trottingham.”

“Uh-huh.” Vinyl cringed on the inside, but kept her smile. “That’s not too far away. What brings you to Hoofington?”

A shrug was her only response.

“Do you know where you’re going next?”

Another shrug. Vinyl shared a distressed look with Amethyst. They stared at one another for a second before nodding in unison.

Amethyst turned to Trixie. “You could stay with us.”

Trixie’s ears perked and her eyes flitted open. She sat up and shook her head as if to clear it. “What was that?”

“Come stay with us.” Amethyst grinned and nodded enthusiastically. “There’s plenty of room, and you won’t be hungry anymore.”

Trixie’s jaw dropped, but only for a second. She shook her head vigorously. “No.”

Vinyl shared a frown with Amethyst, then turned it on their guest. “What do you mean, ‘No?’ ”

“I mean no!” Trixie crossed her hooves and raised her muzzle high. “I need to travel, see the sights, get some fans! I’m not gonna stay in any one location.”

Amethyst fidgeted, her ears flat against her skull. “But you were so unhappy.”

“I’m happy!” Trixie banged her hoof on the table, which earned her a few glares from the neighboring diners. “I’m plenty happy.”

“You were starving and broke,” Vinyl said, her tone lecturing.

“B-but still happy!” Trixie shrank under their gazes. “I should probably go. Thanks for the meal.”

“Please don’t go!” Amethyst hopped to her hooves. “I wanted to be friends. You won’t be hungry anymore. I don’t want you to be hungry.”

“I…” Trixie, half off her cushion, looked at the exit with an uncertain gaze. Vinyl tensed at the sight of a filly so eager to escape the offer of shelter. At the same time, Trixie’s gaze wasn’t that of hope or a desire to escape. No, she looked upon that door as if it led to things best left alone.

Vinyl knew who Trixie was. She’d seen her fair share of foals with that look on their face, the look of pain remembered and hope lost. She wondered what Trixie had witnessed, or perhaps been put through. What must it be like, to want and fear shelter at the same time?

“Trixie?” Vinyl leaned back to give her as much space as possible. “How old are you?”

“What?” Trixie turned back to her, anxiety lost in her confusion. “I’m thirteen. Why?”

“And I’m seven as of today!” Amethyst puffed out her chest with a grin. “Miss Dry Eyes promised me a cake tonight.”

“For once, wouldn’t you like to have a warm bed?” Vinyl offered a soft smile. “Hot meals regularly, friendship, devoted fans?”

At the last suggestion, Trixie’s eyes lit up, but it didn’t last long. She huffed and jerked her face away. “What would you know about having fans?”

“Well, I did just get back from a national tour.”

“A tour?” Ears shooting up, Trixie leaned over the table to get a closer look at Vinyl. “What kind of tour?”

Vinyl opened her mouth to respond, but a bouncing Amethyst beat her to it. “Oh, Vinyl’s a big time music pony now! She went aaall over Equestria playing for ponies and did real good. She even bought a house!”

“Really?” Trixie’s eyes went back to the blushing Vinyl, who nodded. “Wow. I… want a house.” She grinned and rubbed her hooves together. “Yeah, a big house. No, a castle! I want a castle that’ll make Celestia’s castle tremble, because it will know the glory that is the Almighty, Indomitable, Beautiful, Powerful and Magnificent Trixie!”

Vinyl couldn’t help laughing. “That’s a pretty big title, Trix.”

“Uh, yeah.” Amethyst cocked her head. “Maybe it should be shorter!”

Wincing, Trixie’s smile turned sheepish. “Y-yeah, I’m working on that.” She waved her hooves high in the air. “Back on topic! If you’re a famous pony… c-could you teach me how to be famous?”

Vinyl’s smile faded. “What, like a musician?”

“No, in general.” Trixie’s eyes lit up, and this time the brightness didn’t fade. She stared at something distant, a light smile on her lips. “I want ponies to know my name. I want to be great and powerful, a pony who is loved by thousands, no, millions. Even without a cutie mark, I know that’s where my destiny lies.”

“Right.” Vinyl fought to keep her skepticism to a minimum. “I dunno if that’s something that can be taught. Besides, that was my first tour. I dunno that I’m all that ‘big time’ yet.”

“But you have fans, right?” Trixie leaned forward with an expectant air. “Ponies pay to come and see you, right?”

“W-well, yes…”

“Good enough for me!” Trixie sat back and nodded as if she’d made a decision. “I’m sticking by you. Even if you can’t teach me, maybe I can learn by watching.”

Vinyl wanted to object to this idea, but a glance at Amethyst’s joyful face sealed her lips. She set her eyes on the present goal, which was getting this silly filly off the streets. “I suppose I can let you hang around us. If you’re cool enough. But I may want you to do some things for me in return.”

“I’ll do it!” Trixie puffed out her chest and leveled a determined look at Vinyl. “The Almighty, Indomitable… You’re right, I do need to shorten that. Well, you know, I can do it. Just name it!”

“We’ll get to that part later.” Vinyl grinned and winked at Amethyst, who gave another hop. “For now, let’s just enjoy Amethyst’s birthday.”

“Yeah!” Amethyst gave a few more bounces. “We made a new friend!”

“Friend? I don’t know about…” Trixie’s words died when Vinyl shot her a frown. “Umm, that is… sure. I guess we can be friends.”

Amethyst giggled and dove into the remains of her pancakes. Vinyl just smirked.









“W-what is this place?”

Vinyl paused at the office door, looking back to see Trixie trembling in the middle of the room. Her eyes were set on the posters of happy families. The moment she saw Trixie’s eyes, Vinyl knew what was coming. Licking her lips, she used her magic as subtly as she could to hold the door closed.

Amethyst sat beside Trixie and gave her a questioning look. “It’s an orphanage. Why?”

A gasp burst from Trixie and she promptly backpedaled into the door. “No! You didn’t say you lived in one of those!”

Her hoof raised in a calming manner, Vinyl took a step closer to her. “Calm down, Trixie. It’s going to be okay.”

“Is not!” Trixie turned to the door, but it wouldn’t budge. She twisted the handle and jerked on it over and over again. “I don’t wanna be here!”

Amethyst hurried to Trixie’s side and tried to wrap a leg around her shoulder. “It’s okay! Trixie, what’s wrong?”

“Everything!” She knocked Amethyst away with a snarl and fought with the door by hoof and by horn. “Open up! Lemme out!”

“Calm down.” Vinyl had little difficulty keeping the door closed despite the filly’s efforts. “Trixie, it’s going to be alright.”

“You’re lying!” Trixie turned to glare at Vinyl, horn shining and lips pulled back. “This is a setup and I’m not falling for it! I won’t go back to living in one of these places!”

“Trixie, please!” Amethyst hugged Trixie’s neck tightly. “This place isn’t bad, I promise.”

“You just haven’t seen it yet.” Trixie pushed her away and backed against the door once more, eyes still locked with Vinyl’s. “You can’t make me stay!”

The office door opened and Dry Eyes’ voice filled the room. “What in Celestia’s name is going on here?”

“Hey, Dry Eyes.” Vinyl shot her a concerned frown. “We, uh, brought something back with us.”

“Keep away from me, you… you…” Trixie’s eyes darted about the room before going back to Dry Eyes. “You whatever you are! I don’t want any part of it, you hear me?”

“I see.” Dry Eyes adjusted her glasses with a frown. “Well, Vinyl, this is another fine mess you’ve gotten me into." She turned her attention to Trixie. "What’s your name?”

“I’m not telling you!” Trixie’s horn sparked. “Let me go!”

“Her name’s Trixie,” Amethyst said, not noticing the elder filly’s glare. “We met her in the park.”

Vinyl felt her stomach churning. She took a tentative step forward, flinching as Trixie’s harsh glare turned her way. “Trixie, I know what you’re thinking. I get it, I really do. I’ve been in enough orphanages and bad homes to recognize the signs.”

“You’re lying,” Trixie hissed. “You’re in on it, whatever ‘it’ is. You just want me to submit to whatever… stuff is happening here.”

Amethyst turned to Trixie, her face marred by confusion and worry. “D-did something bad happen to you, Trixie?”

“No.” Trixie’s gaze shifted between Vinyl and Dry Eyes. “But I saw enough.”

Vinyl hesitated, then turned her attention to the headmaster. Dry Eyes noted her worried expression and nodded before stepping forward.

“Keep back!” Tiny sparks flashed from Trixie’s horn.

Dry Eyes cocked her head at the display. When she finally spoke, her tone was consoling. “You never went to school, did you?”

Trixie’s eyes widened. “Sh-shut up! I’m the Magnificent Trixie. You have no idea how powerful I am!”

“Spell your name.”

“I… It’s…” Trixie’s magic dimmed a touch, her tiny pupils darting about the room. “Th-that’s such a stupid suggestion, I’m not going to bother responding!”

Amethyst gasped. “You can’t read?”

“Of course I can!” The pitch in her tone betrayed Trixie, and her cheeks were burning. “And I’m really strong and can blast this entire orphanage away with one spell, s-so you better let me go now!”

“So do it.”

Trixie went rigid, her eyes set upon the headmaster. “What?”

Dry Eyes waved invitingly. “Go ahead. Smite us. Bring the house down.”

Trixie’s mouth opened and closed a few times, and Vinyl could almost see the gears turning in the pony’s head. After some time the filly sat, crossing one leg before the other in a sheepish display. “I… don’t want to hurt the, uh, foals.” Her aggression kicked up, but just a little. “I’m sure you do plenty of that already.”

Dry Eyes was unphased by the accusation, her tone even and her expression neutral. “You have two options, Trixie. As a responsible pony who has made the welfare of foals her life’s work, I cannot in good conscience permit you to go back to living on the streets. The first option is for me to call the authorities to have you restrained, at which point the state will determine what happens to you.”

A faint whimper escaped Trixie, who tucked her tail between her legs and began magically tugging on the door again. Her wide-eyed gaze didn’t leave Dry Eyes, though.

The headmaster’s tone grew gentle, accompanying a small smile. “Your other option is to give us a chance. Stay the night and see if it’s really so bad.”

“N-no.” Trixie shook her head, but her voice was weak. She tried tugging on the door handle with a lone hoof. “One night’s too much. Y-you’re going to do something to me.”

Dry Eyes’ smile didn’t fade. “Come now, Trixie, we can’t watch you all the time. You could always run away in the middle of the night. A pony of your ability surely won’t have a problem with a few locked doors and windows.”

The filly paused. She gazed at Dry Eyes, then glanced up at the door. Vinyl leaned forward, taking in the sight of a filly in serious contemplation. She couldn’t help wondering if, had things been just a little different, she might have been like Trixie. So much fear... 

Vinyl was suddenly very appreciative of having Dry Eyes around for a third of her life.

“Trixie?” Amethyst walked up to the older filly, eyes full of worry. “Will you stay? Please?”

Trixie looked to her and let out a small gasp. She released the door and stepped beside Amethyst, casting her glare towards Vinyl and Dry Eyes. “Fine, but I’m staying with Amethyst. The instant I find out what you’re doing to her, I’m gone and taking her with me.”

“Doing to me?” Amethyst’s brow furrowed. “Nopony’s doing anything to me.”

“We’ll see.” Trixie’s ominous gaze didn’t budge.

Vinyl was tempted to argue the point about Amethyst, but fought down the desire. Amethyst wouldn’t want to be taken away, so the threat did seem minimal. By now Vinyl was reasonably sure she could stop Trixie if need be… though she would be sure to magically seal their bedroom windows tonight. Good thing Dry Eyes taught her that little spell.

Dry Eyes nodded to Trixie, her smile warm. “Thank you, Trixie. You won’t regret this decision, I promise.”

“I already do.” Trixie wrapped a leg around Amethyst protectively. Her eyes went to Vinyl. “Don’t even think about trying to stop me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Vinyl forced a smile and gestured to the door leading into the orphanage. “Come on, we’ll show you around.”

When Trixie didn’t move, Amethyst stepped out from under her and tugged on her hoof. “Come on, it’s okay.”

Trixie hesitated. “I’m staying with her tonight, got it?”

“That’s fine,” Dry Eyes said.

Vinyl smirked. “You realize that makes us roommates, right?”

“Oh.” Trixie grimaced, but let Amethyst pull her along. “Fine, but I’m watching you.”

Getting her into the orphanage proper took a lot of goading from Amethyst. Trixie lingered at the open door for nearly ten minutes, but at last she disappeared within. As soon as the two had gone, Dry Eyes turned to Vinyl.

“Be proud. You did a good thing today.”

“I am proud,” Vinyl replied, permitting herself a smile. “Amethyst’s the one who made it happen.”

“She’s a good filly. You two work well together.” Dry Eyes’ smile faded. “But you’ve essentially taken responsibility of Trixie while you’re here. You know that, right?”

Vinyl nodded, her smile not fading in the slightest. “Amethyst is my responsibility, and she won’t leave Amethyst, so I’m saddled with both of them. I’ve got two weeks to help her get used to this place.”

“If she’s not comfortable by the time you leave, she’ll probably disappear shortly after.” Dry Eyes sighed and shook her head. “Are you up to it?”

With hesitancy, Vinyl nodded. “It looks like she’s spent nearly all her life homeless. She’ll be difficult, but… I think we can handle it. Together.”

“Good.” Dry Eyes turned for the office. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, you’ve just given me some fresh paperwork for the evening. Thanks for that, Vanilla.”

“You’re welcome.” Vinyl stuck her tongue out and Dry Eyes responded in kind. The two chuckled and the headmaster left to begin what Vinyl imagined was some tedious work.









Vinyl stood over the bed now being shared by Amethyst and Trixie. “Already asleep, eh?”

Amethyst lay on her back, one leg wrapped around the shoulder of the larger Trixie. The older filly clung to her as if not even sleep could make her relax. Amethyst blinked wearily and looked up at Vinyl. “Mm-hmm. She was real tired.”

“I don’t doubt it, she’s had a big day.” Vinyl watched as Amethyst snuggled against her new friend. Her chest felt like she’d swallowed something warm and pleasant, and she reached out to pet Amethyst’s mane. “I’m really proud of you, Little Sparkler. You know that, right?”

The filly gave her a quizzical look. “You are?”

“I am.” Vinyl knelt down so she could nuzzle her cheek. “You saw a pony in need and didn’t hesitate to help her. You did a very, very good thing today. That makes me proud to have you as a little sister.”

Amethyst returned the motion, then let out a long yawn. “I hope we can be good friends,” she whispered as her eyelids drooped once more.

“I’m sure you will.” Vinyl patted her head and stepped back. “Goodnight, kiddo.”

“Goodnight.” Amethyst turned and snuggled a little closer to Trixie. The sight left Vinyl with a massive smile. She slipped into her own bed, but couldn’t stop staring at the two fillies across the room. She closed her eyes and imagined a bright future, one where she and Amethyst would be together and happy as a family. Her own personal dream just waiting to be fulfilled.

It felt so close she could almost touch it.

“One more year,” she whispered. “Then everything will be as it should be.”










August 18, C.Y. 996
Hoofington


A light rain fell on Hoofington. Vinyl’s horn gave off a dim glow, projecting a weak dome over the head of herself and the two foals standing before her. Amethyst bounced a few times, grinning from ear to ear. “I can’t wait for you to come back! Make it soon, okay?”

Vinyl hugged her and grinned. “You bet! I’ll be back before you know it.”

“Will you? Really?” Trixie scuffed the wet dirt, head low but eyes on Vinyl. Despite her manner, she looked far healthier and cleaner than she had two weeks ago.

“Really.” Vinyl nodded with an encouraging smile. “Don’t worry, Trix, nopony’s going to mess with you, ‘cause if they do you’ll tell me and I’ll make them pay.” Her grin turned mischievous, but Trixie’s smile was frail.

Amethyst patted Trixie on the leg – leaving a smattering of mud on her coat – and nuzzled her cheek. “Everything will be okay, Trixie. You and me will be best friends. And as long as ponies know Vinyl’s on our side, we’re gonna be okay.”

“But she won’t be here,” Trixie replied with a pout.

Vinyl leaned down to nuzzle the filly. “Hey, come on. I know it’s scary, but Amethyst will be with you. She’ll look after you, won’t you, Sparkler?”

“Yeah! Promise.”

Trixie smiled at her friend’s enthusiasm, but her ears remained folded back. “Thanks, I guess. But I still don’t trust this place, okay? Don’t be surprised if I’m gone by the time you get back.”

“Hey!” Amethyst latched onto Trixie’s leg, her cheeks puffed out in a determined expression. “You’re not going anywhere!”

Vinyl shot her a grin before turning her attention back to the blushing Trixie. “Don’t worry, Trix. I’ll be back in a month to make sure everything’s fine. That’s no time at all. And if anypony gives you trouble in the meantime, just tell Dry Eyes. She’s even tougher than I am.”

Amethyst let out a little gasp. “Is not!”

“Besides,” Vinyl continued, “I have a very important job for you.”

Trixie’s ears perked at last and her brooding frown faded a bit. “You do?”

“Yep. Did you know Amethyst has nightmares?”

“She does?” Trixie turned to Amethyst. The filly released her and stepped back to give a bashful nod. “When?”

“She hasn’t had a single one in two weeks.” Vinyl stood tall and smiled Amethyst’s way. “Have you?”

Amethyst blinked and thought on the matter. She abruptly smiled. “Hey, I haven’t!”

Vinyl nudged Trixie once again. “I think it’s because you’ve been staying with her at night. When I’m gone, there’s nopony to look after her while she sleeps. Do you think you can watch over her for me?”

Trixie looked from Amethyst to Vinyl and back. After a while she nodded. “I was gonna do it anyway, but… yeah, I can do that.”

“Great!” Vinyl nuzzled a furiously blushing Trixie as Amethyst gave a little cheer. “It’s an important job. I’m trusting you to take good care of my little sister, okay?”

“Okay.” Trixie stared at her hooves, but there was a certain conviction in her tone. “I’ll protect her.”

Amethyst leaned into her and nuzzled her cheek with a giggle. “Best friend ever!”

The carriage driver whinnied his impatience. Vinyl rolled her eyes and said, “It’s about time I left. You girls be good for Miss Dry Eyes, okay? I’ll see you in a month.”

The fillies waved while she stepped into the waiting carriage, and she returned the motion through the window as it started off. The two fillies hurried back inside when Trixie failed to reproduce her shield against the rain, but they stayed at the door to watch. With a contented sigh, Vinyl sat back in her seat and relaxed. The past two weeks had been eye-opening, to say the least. Now she knew how good her ‘sister’ really was, and it thrilled her to think she may have had a hoof in that.

And Trixie. It felt so good, knowing that she’d helped a pony like her. Vinyl hoped she’d still be around when she came back. Amethyst might be getting along better with the other foals, but to have a real friend who would be there for her?

Things were well and truly looking up.
> Book II — Vinyl Scratch: Slice of Life
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------




Looking back, I’m proud of what I did. I always have been. Amethyst will always be my little sister and I want her to have every chance she possibly can.

Yet I still can’t shake the feeling that I made a mistake. Knowing how things went for Trixie, understanding what she’s doing at this very moment… did I do right by her? I mean, I know it’s at least partially her own fault. You couldn’t keep that pony in one place if you nailed her hooves to the floor and coated them in concrete. It always bothered me, her incessant need to ramble.

I always tell myself that I’m being dumb. I’ve been telling myself that for years. Who am I to judge Trix? My job has me travelling all over Equestria and the world on a regular basis. Sure, I spent more time with Amethyst than Trixie, but what am I supposed to do about it if she’s not home when I am?

It doesn’t feel like much of an excuse. I say I’m their sister but, legally speaking, I was responsible. Should I have stayed at home more often? Gone on fewer tours? Ignored a request or two? I thought I was helping them out, but…

I’m sorry, Trixie. I should have been there more often.

—Vinyl Scratch, Book of Shadows XLVIII
May 23, 1007












July 4, C.Y. 997
Hoofington


The atmosphere was tense. Dry Eyes sat at her desk, a stack of papers set before her. Vinyl sat opposite her, entire body taut with pent up energy. By the door of the office, Trixie and Amethyst slept together on a couch. The younger buried her muzzle beneath the elder’s foreleg.

The two adults didn’t look at one another, nor did they look at the papers. They watched the clock on the wall as its second hand ticked a slow, infuriatingly steady rhythm. Closer and closer it climbed, and it was all Vinyl could do not to scream in frustration. Thirty seconds.

Twenty.

Ten.

She licked her lips, stomach churning.

Five.

Her horned shined.

One.

The minute, hour and second hands moved in unison, aligning neatly to display that long-awaited time: midnight. Vinyl turned her eyes to the paper and signed, her quill scribbling out a barely legible name. The air fled her lungs the moment she finished.

“Happy birthday, Vinyl.” Dry Eyes offered a warm smile and took the papers, placing them in a large manila folder. “Congratulations.”

For a time, Vinyl could only stare at the desktop, mind empty. Then she broke into tears, a trembling smile forming on her lips. “It f-finally happened.” She turned to stare at the two sleeping fillies, her eye lingering on Amethyst. “I have her. She’s my sister.”

“Well, legally speaking, she’s your daughter.” Dry Eyes chuckled as she stuffed the folder into a filing cabinet. “But you can call her what you want.”

“Dry Eyes, I…” Vinyl’s hooves shook. She didn’t dare stand for fear her legs wouldn’t support her. “Thank you. Thank you for making sure this would happen. And f-for watching them and… and…”

“Hey.” The headmaster wrapped her in a tight hug and spoke with words caressingly soft. “No need to thank me. Just take it slow, give it a moment to sink in.”

In the privacy of the small office, Vinyl let go of all pretense; she held Dry Eyes close and buried her face in the pony’s shoulder to muffle her sobs. Images of the last four years played out in her mind, images of Amethyst laughing, of comforting the filly at night, of sharing their dreams. Protecting her from the misguided bullies who passed in and out of the orphanage, showering her with praise as she helped Trixie, worrying over how the world would treat her bloodline. All the work to create, the days travelling, the nights performing.

All of it, for her.

Vinyl had never felt more fulfilled in her life. She doubted she ever would again.

At last she sat back, rubbing her eyes and grinning like a madmare. “I am so glad those two weren’t awake to see that.”

Dry Eyes chuckled and stepped back. “Your secret’s safe with me. For now.”

“It better be,” Vinyl replied with a smirk, “or else I’ll tell all the foals you’re boning the gardener you hired last year.”

“Oh, so threatening.” The headmaster rolled her eyes. “Honestly, they all know we’re dating.”

Vinyl’s wry look didn’t fade. “Yeah, but then you’ll have a small army of underage foals demanding to know what ‘boning’ means.”

“Knuckling the head with an elbow.”

It took a moment for Vinyl to process what she’d just heard, and even then she could only stare. “What?”

“That’s what ‘boning’ means… as far as the kids know.” Dry Eyes gave a cheeky wink. “I’ve been doing this for a long time, Vinyl. I’ve had escape routes set up before you were even born.”

“Ah, horseapples.” Vinyl laughed, her entire body going slack. “This is great. It’s literally a dream come true. I just wish Trixie could get in on it.”

“I know.” The headmaster shifted her gaze to the filly in question, who fidgeted in her slumber. “It’s a shame that there’s a limit on adoptions. There are so many potential parents who are willing and actually capable of taking care of these foals, and they have to wait five years between adoptions? It’s ridiculous.”

“Well, at least I can be her guardian.” Vinyl perked up at the thought. “That’s something.”

“Just make sure she checks in here at least once every three months,” Dry Eyes said.

“Yeah, I got it.” Vinyl stepped up to the fillies and watched them sleep. Amethyst’s ear flicked and her leg reached up to rest on Trixie’s shoulder. “Goddess, they’re cute together. I don’t want to wake them, but…”

“I know.” Dry Eyes stood next to her, beaming upon the fillies. “Imagine their surprise if they wake up in their new home?”

“I know, right?” Vinyl turned parallel to the chairs and dropped to her knees. “Put them on me? I’ll carry them home.” She giggled at the last word. “Home.”

Dry Eyes said nothing, instead working to carefully separate the two fillies. Vinyl watched from over her shoulder in quiet anticipation, just waiting for one of them to wake up. The headmaster’s touch was gentle and careful, and before long Amethyst was resting between Vinyl’s shoulders. Trixie proved much trickier, being a heavier pony, but with some work they were able to drape her over Vinyl’s back.

“You better get going,” Dry Eyes whispered, opening the office door for Vinyl. “That doesn’t look comfortable. Trixie could wake up.”

“Yeah.” Vinyl took a moment to nuzzle her cheek. “Thanks, Dry Eyes. For everything.”

“You’re welcome. Now go on, birthday filly, some of us would like to get to bed.”

“Yeah, bed. With a certain gardener, I bet.”

Dry Eyes knocked her on the head with the back of a hoof, albeit gently. “Hush, you. Off you go. And Vinyl?” She waited for Vinyl to look her in the eyes and offered a warm smile. “Congratulations again.”

Vinyl nodded, delighting in the energy that coursed through her. Despite it, she trudged slowly, making her way out of the orphanage and towards her new home. The going was slow and the heft of the two fillies on her back didn’t help matters, yet Vinyl stepped with care. She moved in as gentle a manner as she could to make sure neither of them were jostled much. The night wore on and she grew steadily more and more exhausted, but she refused to change tactics. Just the thought of their faces when they’d wake kept her going.

She stopped to rest only once, while in the park where she’d met Trixie. The stars shimmered in a clear sky and a waning quarter moon hung low on the horizon. The Mare in the Moon gazed back at Vinyl, seeming to almost smile at her. That seemed a strange image – Nightmare Moon wasn’t known for her kindness – but it still left Vinyl with a sense of comfort. She couldn’t care less who watched over her and her foals, so long as they provided blessings instead of curses.

Realizing that she was at risk of falling asleep if she remained idle for too long, Vinyl forced her weary legs to work and continued her journey. It was well past two in the morning when she finally reached the right neighborhood.

The building loomed over her like a sleeping giant, peaceful and calm. Vinyl’s hooves fell upon soft, fresh-cut grass that felt delightfully cool in the nighttime air. Heart hammering, she rubbed a hoof along the had brick wall by the door. It was so unfamiliar, so new, so… welcome. ‘Home’, she had to remind herself. She’d not spent a single night here, determined to do so only when Amethyst and Trixie were with her. That first night had to be shared.

Hanging her head low to keep her glowing horn from waking the fillies, Vinyl extracted her key and opened the door. Slowly, making sure to keep the clop of her hooves as silent as possible, she entered the house. Her eyes roamed the fresh sight, taking in the new furniture that had been delivered only a week ago. Her furniture. So many things happening at once...

She climb onto the big blue couch in the middle of her new living room. That alone proved an exhausting chore, and she congratulated herself on not taking the stairs. She took a moment to re-position Trixie and Amethyst into more comfortable states on the opposite side of the couch, then rested her head on one of the big, fluffy cushions and closed her eyes.

She smiled in anticipation of the coming day.









Something pushed against Vinyl’s side. She shifted and turned her back to it. “Five more minutes…”

“C’mon, Vinyl, wake up.”

That was Trixie. Vinyl smirked and covered her face beneath a hoof. “Nope. Sleeping. Can’t hear ya.”

Seconds passed, and for a moment Vinyl thought the filly had left. She relaxed and prepared for a few more hours of blissful unconsciousness…

“Amethyst’s gonna burn down your shiny new house.”

“That’s nice.” Vinyl smirked… then paused to think on that statement. “How?”

“She’s trying to bake.”

Vinyl’s head whipped up, her eyes going wide. “No.”

Trixie, standing by the couch, nodded with a small smile. “Couldn’t stop her.”

In one leap, Vinyl cleared the filly and landed near the kitchen door. She rushed inside, panic filling her at the potential consequences of what she might see. “Amethyst, step away from the oven!”

In her defense, the kitchen was a mess of flour and dough and cracked eggs. No flames in sight though, and on the table before her sat an actual cake. It leaned sideways and the icing appeared to have been thrown on at random, but Vinyl was reasonably certain that the object was a cake. And there, covered in flour and with icing hanging off one ear, was a grinning Amethyst.

“Happy birthday, Vinyl!”

Vinyl stared at the scene for some time, jaw hanging loose as she took in the chaos. But then her eyes settled on the filly beaming before her. “Wow.”

“Were you surprised, huh?” The filly bounced in place, each landing sending a puff of flour into the air. “You are, I knew you would be!”

“I tried to stop her,” Trixie said from the other room, “but she insisted.”

“I was very surprised.” And briefly terrified. Vinyl swept in to give her little sister a tight hug. “You didn’t have to go through all of this for me, Little Sparkler.”

“Uh-huh.” Amethyst giggled and nuzzled her. “When we woke up and realized where we were, we just had to do something for you. This is the best day ever!”

Trixie stepped into the room and examined the two of them. “It took everything I had to keep her from bouncing on you to wake you up three hours ago. The cake was the compromise.”

“And I appreciate that.” Vinyl set Amethyst down and hugged Trixie. “I’m glad you were there, Trix. I feared we’d get a repeat of Amethyst’s last attempt at baking.”

“Hey, I got better!” Amethyst puffed out her chest. “I didn’t burn the cake, did I?”

“Speaking of…” Vinyl cast a curious glance at the mess of a kitchen. “Where’d you get all the baking supplies? I haven’t stocked this place yet.”

“Oh… um…” Trixie tapped her hooves together with a sheepish smile. “I kinda raided your coin bag to get them. I’m sorry, I just really thought you deserved to sleep and I had to distract Ammy somehow.”

Vinyl shrugged. “Eh, that’s okay. It’s not like I don’t have the bits.”

“Cake!” Amethyst began bouncing once more. “Come on, try the cake!”

“Okay, okay.” Vinyl’s chuckle was short lived as she approached the table. She looked upon the cake, one side of which was taller than the other. It seemed as though Amethyst had attempted to make up for the fact by slathering a ton of icing on the smaller side. The words ‘Happy Birthday’ were scribbled in what appeared to be chocolate icing.

Vinyl hesitated before using her magic to slice up the cake. It didn’t fall, and the inside at least appeared okay. She made sure to take a piece of the big half, fearing the other would be burned. The slice hovered before her lips and she paused, preparing her mind for whatever torment was to come. Perhaps she could fake it? She glanced at Amethyst and nixed the idea, as she was being watched too closely.

At last she succumbed to inevitability and took a bite.

In that moment, the world fell into place. Vinyl thought she could see the future as it would be in crystal clarity. Her career taking off, Amethyst growing up to live a happy life, Trixie never being afraid again. A happy family, sparked by a connection she’d never imagined finding a few short years ago. There would be many cakes, many birthdays, many happy, normal mornings. Amethyst and Trixie would go to school, she’d go to work; they’d have their daily complaints and gripes and tell one another about their trials.

Every day, a day of normalcy.

The cake was dry, crumbly and too sweet.

It was the best cake she’d ever tasted.










January 21, C.Y. 998
Hoofington


Vinyl adjusted her denim jacket against the chill wind, watching as the foals left the school grounds. There were a lot of parents there, mostly for the younger children. She examined their faces, taking in the different emotions that came with this daily ritual. Cheer at seeing the kids, annoyance because of some other thing on the minds of foals and adults alike, indifference. That last one always bothered her, for what did it say about the relationship the parents had with their foals?

Vinyl understood the annoyance. There were days when she wanted to hurry home to finish work on a song, or had somewhere important to be. It was usually work-related.

Far more common for her was cheer. After all, the fact that she came to school every weekday meant that she had foals under her care. It meant she was a responsible adult. This mundane, everyday chore proved that she was right where she wanted to be. How could she be unhappy about that?

A flash of purple caught her eye. Amethyst waved to her school friends before approaching at a canter. Vinyl couldn’t resist a smile at the sight; the fact Amethyst even had friends at school indicated a huge improvement to how things had been only a year ago. She leaned down to accept the filly’s nuzzle. “Hey there, Little Sparkler. How was your day?”

“Okay. Ms. Blot Spot said my writing is lots better, and Ms. Dry Tome taught us about changelings. Did you know they’re all gone?”

“Sure did.” Vinyl scanned the crowd, but saw nothing of her other charge. “Celestia wiped them out a loooooong time ago.”

Amethyst flinched. “Yeah, she’s real scary.”

The hesitation in her voice caught Vinyl’s attention, but the filly hurried on before she could offer any sort of response. “Mr. Incal…” She paused, face scrunching as she worked her tongue around the name. “Incalculable gave me this, told me to give it to you.” Her horn shined and a letter rose from Amethyst’s saddlebags.

Vinyl cast one more glance at the dwindling crowd and scowled; still no sign of Trixie. Filing the annoyance in the back of her mind, Vinyl opened the letter and read its contents. Her frustration faded quickly as she realized what she had before her. “Amethyst… this is great!”

Amethyst cocked her head and reared up to try and see the letter’s contents.“It is?” 

“It is! Your math aptitude is off the charts. He wants to advance you a few courses.”

“Oh.” The filly’s lips curled in a lopsided frown as she thought on this. “So he wants to me take classes with the older foals?”

“That’s right.” Vinyl pulled her in for a tight hug. “It means you’re doing real good. I’m proud of you! It’s way better than I ever could do in school.”

Amethyst giggled and rubbed her head against Vinyl’s neck. “Told ya I’d do better.”

“And I knew you would.” Vinyl’s high faded slightly as she looked to the near-empty schoolyard. “Where is Trixie?”

Amethyst hesitated. “Umm…”

“She skipped school again, didn’t she?” Vinyl groaned and set Amethyst down. “Well, come on. At least she’s predictable.”

“Don’t be too upset.” Amethyst’s voice was quiet and pleading. “Cinder and Juice were picking on her again.”

“That’s no excuse.” They trotted out into the snow-covered street. Vinyl shivered against a cool breeze. “We’ve talked about bullies before.”

Amethyst’s head hung low as she walked alongside her sister. She kept quiet for a long time, and Vinyl devoted the walk to thinking on how best to right the current situation. Amethyst was doing so incredibly well, but Trixie…

“Why doesn’t Trixie have any friends?”

Vinyl stumbled as a knife pierced her heart. She looked to see Amethyst gazing at her hooves with a pathetic frown. It was hard to keep the strain out of her voice. “Surely she must have some?”

The filly shook her head. “I asked once, and they said she’s ‘broken.’ What do they mean by that?” Amethyst raised her head to give an imploring gaze. “Trix isn’t broken, is she?”

Though her heart throbbed, Vinyl forced a smile to her lips. “Of course not. She’s just…” Just what? Slow? “Just different.”

Amethyst sighed and kicked at the ground. “Then why can’t she use magic right?”

“Trixie’s horn is just fine.” Vinyl turned her eyes forwards to the park at the end of the street. “She hasn’t had the education everypony else has, that’s all. She’ll get there.”

“But her cutie mark says she should be good at magic,” Amethyst pointed out, confusion laced in her tone.

“I’m not sure that her cutie mark is directly related to magic, Little Sparkler.” Which was true enough. Trixie’s cutie mark, earned when she got into a fight earlier in the year, mystified Vinyl to no end. She wished she’d been there to see the moment, it might have clarified things.

“Why can’t Trixie be happy?” Amethyst pouted and kicked at the grass as they entered the park. “I can’t be happy if she’s not. I want the bullies to stop.”

Times like these left Vinyl feeling… helpless. She knew all about bullies, or so she thought. In her experience, once you stood up to them they would back off. That was the advice she’d given Trixie, and the result was a fight, Trixie earning a cutie mark, and the bullies continuing their frustrating work. The last part was the most troubling. Vinyl understood fighting, she didn’t mind if it was for the right reasons. Cutie marks were always a good thing, of course.

But the bullies? Vinyl had no idea what to do about them. When fighting and trickery did nothing, what else did she have?

“Vinyl?”

She shook her head free of such troubled thoughts and forced a smile for Amethyst. “It’s nothing, kiddo. Just thinking.”

“Oh… okay.” Amethyst kept her head down and her eyes averted. The sight broke Vinyl’s heart, but she could think of nothing to say.

Their ears perked to the familiar cries of a magician hawking her talents. Vinyl turned to a well-known gazebo, where a small crowd had gathered. There, showering the group with fireworks, was Trixie. She reared back in a triumphant pose as the colorful flashes streaked through the cool air, but Vinyl could only scowl. Hadn’t the park authorities warned her enough times about using that spell?

“And now, gaze in awe at the Amazing and Inspiring Trixie as she performs feats beyond imagination!” Trixie pulled out some playing cards, which she sent flying from hoof to hoof over her head with a grin.

“Not this again,” a stallion in the crowd shouted just as Vinyl and Amethyst closed in. “Don’t you have anything new, Clumsy?”

The filly’s eyes went wide as she turned in the direction of the voice. “Excuse me? I’d like to see you do that.”

“And I’d like to see you use your horn for something other than fireworks,” a mare called out, tone mocking.

Trixie flinched, but recovered quickly. “You doubt me? Let’s see you laugh when I display my good old-fashioned rope trick!” A long rope, one Vinyl recognized, began to float in the air.

“What, that old thing?” A few ponies broke into laughter. “You’ll never climb it. Why do you keep trying?”

Indeed, why? Vinyl watched from the back of the crowd as the rope hung high in the air. Her lips slipped into a pursed frown at the height of it… and it kept going higher. Should she interfere? If Trixie pulled off climbing to the top, it might shut the crowd up. On the other hoof, a fall from that height would be no laughing matter.

“My magic has only grown stronger over the weeks!” Trixie grabbed the rope in one hoof and did a twirl on her hind legs that Vinyl had to admit looked tricky. “Just watch me, you simple-minded foals!”

“Stop!”

Vinyl blinked and looked down; Amethyst was nowhere to be found. That had certainly been her voice, though. Cursing under her breath, Vinyl began pushing her way through the crowd.

“Don’t climb it, Trixie,” Amethyst pleaded. “It’s too high, you could get hurt!”

Trixie stared at what Vinyl could only assume was Amethyst. “Ammy? What are you doing here? You’re getting in the way of my act.”

“You don’t have to climb the rope,” Amethyst said. “You don’t have to prove you can do it. I know you’re great. Isn’t that good enough?”

“I… uh…” Trixie’s cheeks burned a bright pink, her eyes shifting about as she visibly struggled for some kind of counter. “Amethyst, they challenged me. I have to climb it now.”

“Yeah,” somepony in the crowd shouted, “let’s see her try! Bet it’ll be good for a laugh when she falls on her rump.”

Trixie’s expression grew firm and she grabbed the rope in both forehooves. “Just you wait, you’ll see! I’m gonna—”

“Hold it right there, Trixie.” Vinyl at last pushed her way through the crowd. “The show’s over. Put the rope down.”

Trixie groaned and rubbed a fetlock across her forehead. “Great, just what I need. Don’t you have some music to mix?”

“I leave on tour in a week.” Vinyl grabbed the rope in her teeth and jerked it from Trixie’s magical grasp. The whole thing fell to the floor in a loose circle, and she spat the end out. “Is this the responsible filly I’m leaving in charge of watching Amethyst while I’m gone?”

Trixie sat her haunches and crossed her hooves with a hmmph. “I was just trying to practice some tricks. It’s not a big deal.”

“And you skipped school to do it!” Vinyl paused upon realizing that the crowd hadn’t dispersed. “What are you ponies looking at? Go on, git! My sister and I are having a private conversation, if you don’t mind.”

The ponies grumbled, but steadily began to wander off. Vinyl held her tongue and her temper until she was reasonably sure that the three of them were alone. When she at last focused on Trixie, she found the filly with her back turned. “Oh, come on, Trix. Don’t be this way.”

“Be what way? Independent?”

“Independent? Trix…”

Amethyst stepped between them, her face marred with concern and frustration in equal measure. “Please don’t fight. Please?”

Though it required no small amount of willpower, Vinyl stilled her tongue. She closed her eyes, counted to ten and thought of some peaceful music. When she opened her eyes, Trixie had turned back to her with a face full of guilt.

“Sorry, Ammy.” Trixie patted Amethyst’s shoulder. “I’m causing trouble again.”

Vinyl studied Trixie, who wouldn’t meet her gaze. Keeping her voice as even as she could, she asked, “Trixie, why’d you skip school?”

Trixie sighed and shook her head. “You don’t understand, Vinyl. I can’t learn there.”

“You just—”

“It’s not about me being behind.” Trixie tapped herself on the head. “It’s in here. I tried to tell you that before. Everything the teachers are saying doesn’t click. The textbooks are gibberish to me.”

Vinyl opened her mouth, then closed it once more. No point in reminding everypony that Trixie had only just learned how to read. “So you just… gave up?”

“Don’t get me wrong, I want to learn.” Trixie sighed and stared off to the horizon. “But I can’t do that here.”

Amethyst gasped, her ears folding back. “Y-you’re not leaving, are you Trixie?”

Trixie’s response was hurried. “No. No, Ammy, I’m not leaving. I’m just…” She looked between Amethyst and Vinyl. “I guess I’m just getting tired.”

She’d leave. Vinyl fidgeted and tried to think of a stalling tactic. “Besides, she’s got to look after you while I’m on tour. Trixie wouldn’t leave you all alone, would she?”

“Yeah.” Trixie gave a hesitant nod. “Somepony has to look after you.”

Amethyst studied Trixie with a solemn frown. After a while, she walked forward and pressed her forehead to Trixie’s chest. “Right,” she whispered. “So don’t go anywhere.”

Trixie cringed, but wrapped a leg about the filly in a light hug. She looked to Vinyl with concern in her eyes, and a question.

Vinyl didn’t care for the expression. “Trixie, you know I just want you to succeed, right?”

With a sigh, Trixie nodded. “I like you better when you act like a sister. We’re way too close in age for you to be my mom.”

“I guess that’s true.” Vinyl kicked lightly at the floor. “So if you’re not planning on going to school, what are you going to do?”

“I don’t know,” Trixie admitted. “The ponies in this town just aren’t entertained by my act, so maybe I should try somewhere else?” She tightened her hold on Amethyst when the filly let out a small whimper. “But not yet. I still need to figure out how to handle my horn.”

Amethyst nodded, and the conversation died. Trixie still wouldn’t meet Vinyl’s gaze, and the silence lingered into awkwardness. A chill breeze made the ponies shiver.

“Come on.” Vinyl turned away from them. “Let’s go home.”

As they walked in silence, Vinyl pondered on Trixie. The pony had just turned fifteen – at least, that was true as far as Trixie could guess her birthday – and she was already thinking of leaving. She’d not even been with them for two years. Vinyl had thought she’d given the filly a home, but every day it felt more and more like Trixie didn’t want one.

The thought disturbed Vinyl to no end.








April 24, C.Y. 998
Hoofington


Vinyl stepped into an empty house, letting her saddle slump to the floor and kicking the door closed. She glanced around, noting how the lights were out. Curious, considering it was early afternoon. Perhaps Amethyst and Trixie had left somewhere for the day?

That was her hope, at least. Vinyl fought down the dread that had been building in her ever since the ride from Canterlot had started. Instead, she forced a smile to her lips and tried to relish the fact that she was home for the first time in months. She could always surprise her fillies when they got home.

The house seemed so pleasant when there was nopony around. Through her work, Vinyl had built a reputation as something of a noisemaker, but when not on tour? The quiet did wonders. She paced from room to room, taking in the sights and relishing the fact that the entire house was hers. She couldn’t help wondering if she’d feel this sense of appreciation every time she came home from a tour.

It wasn’t until Vinyl passed the door to Amethyst’s and Trixie’s room on the second floor that she realized she wasn’t alone. Backtracking, she peered through the partially-opened door. There she saw Amethyst sitting at her jewelry desk, gazing solemnly out the window with her hooves to her cheeks. Though her face wasn’t visible, her slumped shoulders and folded ears told a story Vinyl didn’t want to hear.

She pushed the door with her muzzle. When it creaked, the filly spun about in her chair so quickly she nearly fell off, legs waving wildly for support. Vinyl hurried to catch her in her magic, smiling at the foal’s enthusiasm. “Whoa there, Little Sparkler.”

“You’re home!” Amethyst leapt from the chair and bounded towards Vinyl, slamming into her at full gallop for a hug. “I thought you’d never come back!”

Vinyl laughed and pulled her into an embrace. “Hey, squirt! How’s my little sister?”

“I’m great now that you’re home!” Amethyst’s typical response made Vinyl’s heart swell, as always. “Why do those tours have to be so long?”

“I couldn’t agree more.” Vinyl ruffled her mane with a grin. “I missed you, kiddo. But hey, I’m home for the next few months at least, so we need to celebrate. Where’s Trixie?”

Amethyst deflated, sagging against Vinyl and burying her face in the mare’s chest. “Umm… she… Trix is…”

Vinyl’s heart sank as she took in Amethyst’s fretful tone. At first she could offer no words, and a silence lingered between them. Vinyl held her sister close and examined the room. Trixie’s bed was immaculately made, a true rarity, but some of her things were missing. Vinyl’s eye lingered on the corner of the wall where only one travelling saddle hung.

“She’s gone, isn’t she?”

“I’m sorry!” Amethyst’s words came out as a wail. “I tried to stop her, I really did! I begged and offered her all the gems I found, all of them! I told her you’d be mad, th-that I was too young to be left alone, that—”

Vinyl set a hoof to her muzzle, bringing the tirade to an end. “Look at me, Amethyst, okay? This isn’t your fault. I’m not mad.”

“Y-you’re not?” Amethyst rubbed tears from her cheeks. “But we’re supposed to be a family. Trixie’s my friend.”

“We are family.” Vinyl offered a warm smile and tightened her hold on the filly. “And I’m not mad. Trixie’s just… different. It was her decision, and while I don’t approve of her leaving you on your own, I think we should respect her choice. How long ago did she leave?”

“Umm… a month ago. I think.”

Vinyl blinked. “You mean you’ve been living by yourself in this house for a whole month?” At Amethyst’s nod, Vinyl felt a fire burning in her gut. Her shoulders shook as she pondered the best way to kill Trixie when she found her. Amethyst was only seven, for buck’s sake!

Yet she forced herself to calm down, taking a few slow, long breaths. She rocked back and forth, keeping Amethyst tucked to her shoulder as she whispered curses to herself. As soon as she felt she could speak without giving away her frustration, she said, “That won’t happen again. Somepony's gonna be here, Ammy. That or I'll bring you with me on the tours.”

“Really?” Amethyst’s eyes practically sparkled at the thought.

“Really.” Vinyl managed to smile for her. “And when Trixie gets back, I’m gonna make her listen to nothing but opera for a whole week.” Amethyst’s horrified gasp made her chuckle and dimmed the fire within just a touch. “But I’m really impressed with you. I didn’t know you had what it takes to stay by yourself for that long, and the house looks outright spotless.”

Amethyst beamed at her. “It was easy! You left enough bits to buy food, and Trixie only took a small amount. And I didn’t use too many rooms, so I didn’t have to clean much.”

Vinyl was more impressed that Amethyst had actually considered cleaning in the first place. “You did great, Little Sparkler. But surely you didn’t just stay cooped up in the house the entire time?”

“Nope, I went to visit Miss Dry Eyes sometimes, or go to the park. And I still had school.” She sat and rubbed the back of her neck with a sheepish smile. “Sometimes I didn’t go, though.”

Vinyl raised an eyebrow. “Did you keep your grades up?”

“Yep!” Amethyst hurried to her desk and pulled some slips of paper from a drawer. She used her horn to float them before her while she pranced back. “See?”

Vinyl took the papers and saw they were report cards. She went through each one and saw consistently high marks. By this time her anger had disappeared entirely, replaced by an all-encompassing pride. “You’re one amazing kid, you know that?”

Amethyst bounced a few times. “I’ve gotta be responsible, right? Nopony ever took over a mine without that!”

Vinyl blinked yet again. “Take over a mine? What are you talking about?”

“Oh, right. Hold on.” Amethyst trotted back to the desk, this time pulling from the top of it a page from a newspaper. She hurried over to Vinyl and set the paper flat on the floor, then tapped on it. “See?”

Vinyl took a moment to skim the paper. What she saw made her eyebrows rise with alarm. “Why are you reading about the Rape of Sīṃgakh?”

“Oops.” Amethyst grabbed the paper in her magic and flipped it over. “This one!”

Sighing with relief, Vinyl took in the contents of the article. From what she could tell, it had to do with how a large mine was being run into the ground financially due to terrible safety standards. “Uh… okay?”

Amethyst attempted to give a frustrated growl. It only made Vinyl smile. “The name! Look at the name.”

Doing as she was told, Vinyl scanned the article again until she spotted the name of the mine. “Jewelstone?”

“Once owned by Jewel Hoof.” Amethyst stared intently at Vinyl, as if expecting her to form some conclusion. When Vinyl offered only a shrug, the filly huffed. “My daddy!”

“Your…” Vinyl looked from the article to the filly and back, the gears in her head slowly grinding to a conclusion. “You mean Jewel Hoof was the name of your… Oh, so this mine belonged to your family!”

“That’s right!” Amethyst clapped her hooves. “And it’ll be mine someday.”

“Uh…” Vinyl stared at the newspaper article. “Little Sparkler, do you have any idea how much a mine costs?”

“Nope.” The filly shook her head, but her determination didn’t falter. “Doesn’t matter. That mine is mine. It belonged to daddy and they took it, so I’m taking it back even if I have to wait until I’m as old as you are!”

Vinyl scratched the back of her head while she worked to process this news. “You’re a little young to be worrying about stuff like that, kiddo.”

But Amethyst only grew more determined. She stared at the article, lips set in a grim frown and eyes shining. “I know I’m just a little filly. I know, but I remember. The nightmares came back after Trixie left. I can’t forget. I…” She leveled a gaze far too harsh for her age upon Vinyl. “I have to do something for mommy and daddy.”

The focus in those eyes pierced Vinyl. Should she be proud of this, or worried? The idea of Amethyst setting such a huge goal at such an early age – and being absolutely serious about it – bothered her. Seven-year-olds should be carefree and happy, not focused and responsible.

With a sigh, Vinyl reached out to pat Amethyst’s head. “I wish Trixie were a bit more like you, Ammy.” She lifted the article and studied it for a couple seconds. “If this really means that much, I’ll help.”

Amethyst’s jaw dropped. “You will?”

“Yeah. I’m making enough bits, I can fund whatever you need. But,” —she leveled a hoof at Amethyst— “there’s a lot that’ll need to be done. You’re going to have to make great grades and study hard even after you finish school. You can’t just buy a mine, there’s a lot of legal junk you gotta fight over. It’s not going to be easy.”

“I can do it!” Amethyst puffed out her chest. “You’ll see, Vinyl, I’ll work as hard as I have to!”

Those words hurt, but Vinyl only nodded. “You prove to me that you can do it, and I’ll help in whatever way I can. But you’ve got to prove it to me first, alright?”

“Alright!” Amethyst gave a little shout. “I’ll prove it to you, Vinyl! And to Mommy and Daddy!”

Vinyl rolled the newspaper up and used it to pat the filly on the head. “But it’s going to take a long time,” she said in a more soothing tone. “Don’t be in a hurry. For now, just try to be a filly, okay?”

That made Amethyst cock her head. “But I am a filly.”

“And you should be focused on filly things.” Vinyl smiled and tossed the rolled up newspaper on the bed. “Don’t worry about that for now. It’ll come later, when you’re much older. For now, you know what you should be concerned with?”

Amethyst, her eyes wide and attentive, leaned close with bated breath.

Vinyl chuckled and leaned down to whisper in her ear, “Cookies.”

The filly gasped and began to bounce, all seriousness lost in an instant. “Cookies! Are we going out?”

“We’re going out!” Vinyl grinned and pulled her little sister into a hug, then set her on her back. “We gotta celebrate me coming home. You didn’t even plan a proper welcome home party for me.”

“I didn’t know when you were coming home, silly!” Amethyst giggled.

“No excuses!” Vinyl tapped her on the muzzle with a faux-glare. “Thanks to your laziness, I have no choice but to go all out today. Tons of cookies, you hear me? Tons! It’s all your fault.”

Amethyst gave something between a cheer and laughter. “Sorry! I’ll try to eat my fair share, okay?”

“You’d better!” Vinyl struck a pose and pointed at the door. “Onwards, to cookies!”

“To cookies!”

And so they left, the two grinning at the sweets to come. Yet even as they did, Vinyl couldn’t resist a glance back at the corner of the room, where a lone saddle remained. She couldn’t help but wonder where Trixie was just then. Despite her earlier anger, she could only hope the filly was okay.










June 3, C.Y. 998
Hoofington


“Who is it, Vinyl?”

Vinyl paused at the foot of the stairs and looked up at Amethyst. The filly looked about as tired as she felt. “Stay up there. I don’t know yet.”

Waiting until Amethyst sat on the top step, Vinyl turned back to the front door. She approached slowly, glancing at the clock on the wall as she did. Three in the morning. Who the buck would be knocking on her door at three in the morning? Waiting until she was beyond Amethyst’s site, she grabbed the iron poker from the fireplace, hovering it just over her shoulder as a precaution.

Another knock resounded in the darkness. Vinyl bit her lip and somehow managed not to jump at the sound. It seemed unusually loud in the quiet darkness. She paused a safe distance from the door. “Who’s there?”

The wait seemed to last forever. Vinyl grimaced and readied her makeshift weapon.

“V-Vinyl? It’s me.”

Vinyl nearly dropped the iron poker. She jerked the door open to find a blue pony sitting before her with head hanging low. Mane a mess and body coated in dirt, the teenager merely stared at the doorstop in shame.

“Trixie?”

Trixie flinched at the sound of her name. “Y-yeah, it’s me.”

Time passed, punctuated by the ever ticking clock. Vinyl awaited some explanation, but Trixie’s eyes remained rooted to the floor and her lips sealed. At last, Vinyl lowered her makeshift weapon and gestured. “Come inside. Quietly.”

“Who is it, Vinyl?”

Cringing, Vinyl pressed a hoof to Trixie’s chest before turning for the stairs. “It’s nopony, Amethyst. Just some teenagers playing a prank. You go on to bed, okay?” She waited, ears perked in case Amethyst decided to come downstairs anyway.

It was some time, but Amethyst finally responded. “Okay. But come up soon, alright?”

“I will, promise.” Vinyl waited until she heard the foal’s door close to turn back to Trixie.

Trixie had tears streaming down her cheeks. “So I’m nop-pony now?”

Her heart twisting, Vinyl pulled her into a tight hug. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, “I didn’t mean it like that. I just wanted to have a chance to talk to you before Amethyst latched on. Once she does, she won’t let go. She missed you.”

Trixie’s legs came up gradually, shaking like her voice. “She did? Really?”

“We both did.” Vinyl offered a warm smile. “Now come on, let’s get you something to eat. You look famished.”

They entered the kitchen, Trixie trudging into the room like a felon awaiting conviction. She stood in the corner while Vinyl pulled out a few leftover sandwiches from the refrigerator. When Vinyl noticed her manner, she rolled her eyes and pointed. “This is your place too, you know. Go on, sit. I promise not to blow up on you.”

Trixie looked to her, then to the table. With the caution of a mouse expecting the trap to snap, she settled down in her usual cushion at the table. Vinyl used her magic to warm up a pair of sandwiches before placing them before her surrogate sister.

For a long time, Trixie just stared at the food. Then, she picked one of the sandwiches up in her hooves. Vinyl, standing by the table, watched in grim uncertainty as even the act of taking a bite required an eternity from the teenager. Finally, Trixie did as was expected, chewing the first mouthful slowly.

A sob wracked her before she could even swallow. “It’s just a sandwich,” she whispered. “J-just a sandwich, but… but I…”

Vinyl held her. Trixie’s muffled weeping bled into her ears, making her feel miserable in turn. She rubbed the pony’s back and hummed, not knowing what else she could do.

“How can you be so nice to m-me?” Trixie squeezed a little tighter. “After I ab-bandoned you like that? After I left Ammy all alone?”

“You’ve got to ask?” Vinyl pulled back to offer a warm smile. “I admit, I was pretty peeved when I learned what you did. But Trixie… you’re family. A pony should always have someplace to call home.”

“Home.” Trixie spoke the word as if it were holy, fresh tears streaking her cheeks. “I… I’m home.” She rested her forehead on Vinyl’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry. For what I did. For being not doing what I said I would. For leaving. For… for being me.”

“It’s okay, Trixie.” Vinyl patted her shoulder, feeling far better about this situation than she’d anticipated. “We’ll have a much more focused conversation about it later. For now… welcome home.”

“It’s g-good to be back.” A smile, frail but hopeful, at last formed on Trixie’s lips. “It really, really is.” Her eyes lit up as she looked to the ceiling. “Ammy. I… I want to see her.”

“Hold on.” Vinyl pushed her down before she could properly stand. “Sit. Eat. No sibling of mine is going to bed hungry, not under my roof.”

“Right.” Trixie obediently grabbed the sandwich, but paused before taking another bite. “Thanks, Vinyl. Really. You can’t imagine how scared I was to come back like this. I half expected you to slam the door in my face.”

“Now what kind of sister and role model would I be if I did that?” Vinyl’s smile faded quickly. “But Trixie, we’re not done. We are going to have some serious words. I’m okay with this, but you can’t just up and leave like that without some kind of consequence. You get that, right?”

“I do. It’s worth it.”

Trixie finished her meal in silence, then excused herself for the stairs. Vinyl remained in the kitchen for some time, feeling at once anxious for the future and proud of her decisions. She’d always known that Trixie would be a hard case.

Yet right now? The happy cry from the ceiling made it all worth while.
> Book II — Vinyl Scratch: Opportunity Outside the Community
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------




I find myself thinking of PP and his wife lately. I don’t know why. It’s not like they were responsible. Still, PP’s the one who got me started on that tour. At the time I was… what’s that word? Right, ‘blasé.’ I was doing good, didn’t need the bits. I still remember the look on his face when he first suggested it. Had I known then exactly who it was that made the offer, I’d have been more firm in my objections. Then again, how was I to know? How was he to know?

Poor PP.

Even without that, I didn’t want to go on that tour. I mean, it didn’t seem worth my time. But Trixie deserved a little more love. Gotta admit, Amethyst hogged a lot of my attention. I hate to say it, but Trixie really was the outsider, and I did a terrible job of hiding the fact. I should have been a better sister for her. I wanted to be. That’s why I made the choice I did.

And Ammy still stole the limelight.

Sometimes I feel so stupid.

—Vinyl Scratch, Book of Shadows XLVIII
May 24, 1007












March 8, C.Y. 999
Manehattan


Vinyl stepped out to a rainy spring night, the lights of the city illuminated in sparkling glimmers by the droplets in the air. Her ears still rang from the music that had bounced from the club’s speakers and, despite her weariness, her head continued to bob to the ghost of her last song of the night. A carriage pulled up right on time to greet her at the curb. Not surprisingly, a few fans braved the weather to watch her cross the sidewalk, and she happily waved to them. After all, she loved her fans.

Stepping into the carriage, Vinyl accepted the towel hovering in the air by PP’s yellow aura and dried herself off. “Hey, PP. Great gig, as always.”

Upon hearing only silence, Vinyl perked her ears. The lack of his usual praise put her on high alert, but she kept her manner jovial and finished drying herself off before looking to him. PP shifted in a manner as if he had some secret he could barely hold on to.

Satisfied that the news was good, Vinyl tossed the towel in his face. “Alright, PP, what’s going on?”

“Am I that obvious?” he asked, voice muffled by the towel. He tugged it off with both hooves and grinned.

“You’re worse than Amethyst in that regard.” Vinyl sat back and watched as the city drifted by her window. “But seriously, what’s going on? My night’s not complete without the usual ‘you’re doing awesome’ speech.”

“Bull.” PP smirked and tossed the towel aside. “And I quote: ‘Would you stop yammering about how awesome I am? I get that enough from my sisters.’ ”

“Yeah, and you still do it every night.” Vinyl cocked her head his way. “You’re ruining my groove, dude.”

PP raised his hooves in a defeated manner. “Fine, you were awesome tonight. Good show, great work with the crowd, yadda yadda yadda. Satisfied?”

“Eh, it’ll do.” Vinyl waved a dismissive hoof. “So what’s got you all excited?”

He giggled like a little colt. “While you were performing tonight, some highbrow elitist came up to me with an offer. You like charity work?”

“Charity work?” Vinyl cast a curious look his way. “I’ve made more bits in the last two tours than I know what to do with, so yeah, I’ve got no problem with it. But c’mon, PP, you’re already lining up new work? My current run doesn’t end for another month.”

“And you’ll get three months to relax with your sisters,” he countered smugly. “The job doesn’t start until late July… should you decide to do it. You will, once you realize what it is.”

Vinyl stuck her tongue out at him. “Would ya stop beating around the bush? So what’s the job?”

PP rubbed his hooves together with a grin Vinyl would almost describe as wicked. “A military tour. An international military tour.”

She stared at him for several seconds, eyes gradually getting bigger. She abruptly leaned forward and grabbed him by the shoulders. “Whoa, whoa, what do you mean, international?”

He nodded, eyes glowing as he stared at something beyond her vision. “The Eastern Isles. Saddle Arabia. Grypha. A world tour, Vinyl. We’d be going to Equestria’s most prominent bases abroad.”

“Wow.” Vinyl sat back once more, her mind struggling to take in the idea. “That’s just… wow.”

“I know, right?” PP gave a giddy laugh. “I mean, it’s a charity tour with a few other artists, but just think of the recognition! This is a huge step up, Vinyl.”

“You’re telling me.” She rubbed her hooves together with trepidation. “How long?”

“What?”

“How long, PP?” She cast a long gaze at the city beyond her small window. “How long is the tour?”

“Oh… nine months.”

She cringed. “That’s… a long time.”

PP cocked his head uncertainly, then smiled. “Hey, don’t worry. I’m sure Amethyst and Trixie will be fine. Your friend at the orphanage could watch after them.”

“My friend is getting married in two months,” Vinyl replied with a sigh. “I think I’d rather let her have some time to herself… and her fiancé.”

He let out a small curse. “Come on, Vinyl, you can’t possibly say no to this. Think about what it’ll do for your career! Sure, you might be away from your sisters for almost a year, but after this you’ll have ponies all over Equestria just begging for concerts and tours. You’ll be able to hoof-pick your jobs, which will mean more time in the long haul for Amethyst and Trixie.”

She raised an eyebrow at him, not sure whether to feel disdain or anger. Settling with mild annoyance, she said, “You and your wife don’t plan on having any foals, PP, so I get it that you don’t understand. Amethyst is only nine years old, and I want to be there for her when she needs me. It’s very important for her, and I don’t just mean for her comfort.

“And Trixie? She’s sixteen. I don’t have hardly any time left before she’s old enough to be on her own legally, and you want me to blow off nine whole months? That pony needs me there now, not later.”

“But… I… You…” PP’s face contorted in disbelief and frustration. “Vanilla, think of your career!”

“My career isn’t half as important as my sisters.” She shook her head firmly. “I’m sorry, Polished, but my answer is no. I owe you big time, but no.”

He raised his hooves as if to reach for her, then pulled them back. His lips worked silently for some time and the desperation was clear in his eyes. At last he bowed his head, and Vinyl turned back to the window. Though sadness ate at her for having to turn down such a good offer, she closed her eyes and imagined Trixie and Amethyst. She was confident – absolutely, unwaveringly certain – that this was the right course of action. Her career was off to a great start as it was, and she had plenty of bits.

“Take them with you.”

Vinyl chuckled. “You don’t give up easy, do ya?”

“I’m serious,” PP said. “Come on, how many fillies can honestly say they got to travel the world? You’ll be the best sister ever.”

“Stop it.” Vinyl shot him a smirk. “You’re just trying to butter me up so you can get some more moolah later.”

“Yes. Yes I am.” He clapped his hooves together. “Please, Vinyl, at least think about it? You can talk it over with Amethyst and Trixie. You know I haven’t steered you wrong before.”

“True.” Vinyl rubbed a fetlock under her chin as she considered him. As far as she could tell, there was nothing that would get her to agree. Amethyst didn’t need to travel, she needed to go to school. Trixie, on the other hoof, would probably jump at the opportunity. Still… including them in the conversation was only fair.

And she might be able to shut him up.

“Alright, PP, I’ll think about it.”

PP gave a loud whoop that made her jump and wrapped her in a tight hug. “Thank you! You won’t regret it, Vinyl, I promise!”

She worked to push him away, blushing mildly at the unusual close contact. “Hey, hey, watch it! Your wife’s gonna get ideas.”

He laughed and let her go. “When she finds out about this she’ll want to hug you herself!”

“I didn’t say I’d go, you know.” Vinyl sighed and shook her head. “Just like a stallion, getting all ahead of himself.”

“Deny it all you want, Vinyl,” he replied, “but in the end you will be going on this tour.”

“We’ll see, PP.” She turned her eyes back to the window. She couldn’t help but feel a little apprehension at the thought of going home.










April 14, C.Y. 999
Hoofington


“You said no?”

Trixie stood atop her bed, gawking at Vinyl as if she’d grown a second head. “Vinyl, you can’t be serious!”

“Like a plague.” Vinyl sat beside Amethyst’s bed, tucking the filly into her covers. “I have more important things to deal with.”

Amethyst peeked from under her blanket with wide eyes. “But wouldn’t it be good for your job?”

“My job is to be with you two.” Vinyl smiled and tousled the filly’s mane. “I’m not going anywhere, Little Sparkler.” Her smile was returned, and the sight of Amethyst’s pleasure warmed her heart.

She heard Trixie flop onto her belly and emit a groan. “You foal! How many opportunities like this are you gonna get? Trixie would do just about anything for a chance to tour the world, and you’re turning it down?”

Vinyl raised an eyebrow at the disgruntled teen. “You can stop referring to yourself in the third person, y’know. Or is this part of the Awesome and Mighty Trixie’s new act?”

“It’s the ‘Great and Powerful Trixie,’ thank you very much.” Trixie’s frown shifted to a grin as she waved at the opposite bed. “Amethyst thought of it. Has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, it kinda does.” Vinyl nuzzled Amethyst, who giggled. “Doesn’t explain why you’re talking in third person, Trix.”

Trixie rose to her haunches and set a hoof to her chest in a pompous display. “Trixie must constantly maintain her image if she is to gain the fans she so clearly deserves.”

“Or maybe you’re just trying to make up for your low self esteem.”

The teen choked and sputtered, her face going beet red. After a few failed attempts at a counter she turned around and dropped to her side in a huff. Vinyl winced at the sight and, with a last nuzzle for Amethyst, walked over to Trixie’s bed. “I’m sorry, that was uncalled for.”

Trixie gave no reply, but her barely controlled sniffles were hint enough. Vinyl leaned against the bed, keeping her eyes towards the window. “Trixie, I’m gonna keep asking. Why do you want to be a performer so much when you have so much trouble doing it?”

“Who cares?” Trixie grumbled. “It’s not like you do.”

“Is it because you feel challenged?”

Trixie tensed, but said nothing.

“I’m going to tell you both a little secret.” Vinyl glanced towards Amethyst, who was listening intently. “You promise not to tell anypony outside this house?”

Her face scrunched up with seriousness, Amethyst nodded. Trixie kept quiet.

“Being a DJ and going on tour is easy. It’s what I was born to do, and because of that I have absolutely no trouble with it.” Vinyl smiled at Amethyst and spoke in a loud whisper. “But you know what’s hard?” Amethyst shook her head. “Taking care of you two.”

Amethyst gasped, her expression pained. Trixie merely made a hmmph sound.

“I love my job, but I’d rather spend my time with you.” Vinyl reached out to touch Trixie’s shoulder. To her relief, Trixie didn’t shy away from the contact. “Every time I go on tour, I worry about what I’ll find when I get back. I want to be with you two. Sure, we butt heads a few times and get on one another’s nerves. Sometimes we say things we regret. But that means something special.”

Resting her chin on a hoof, Amethyst asked, “What does it mean, Vinyl?”

With a warm smile, Vinyl leaned close to Trixie’s ear. “That we’re a normal family.”

Trixie shifted, her moist eyes meeting Vinyl’s. Surprised laced her expression, but she only let Vinyl have a brief glimpse before dropping her head back onto her pillow.

Even so, what Vinyl saw was enough. She sat up again and kept her warm smile. “I love having a normal family, no matter how trying it might be. Trixie, soon you’re going to be able to strike out on your own. How much of that time do you think you’ll spend with me? Not much, I bet.”

Trixie huffed. “Maybe I don’t want to spend any more time with you.”

“That’s not true at all.” Amethyst gave Vinyl a broad smile as she settled back in her bed. “She misses you when you leave.”

“Thanks, Ammy,” Trixie growled. Amethyst only giggled.

Vinyl sighed and considered the situation for some time. Her thoughts strayed to PP and his desires, then to Amethyst and her schooling. Trixie… if she was truly honest with herself, Trixie had always played second fiddle to her kid sister. Perhaps it was time for that to change.

“I know I can’t stop you from travelling, Trix.” Vinyl set a hoof on Trixie’s shoulder once again. “To be honest, I’m just grateful you stuck around for the entire tour this time.”

“I wasn’t gonna leave Ammy alone again,” Trixie grumbled. “Wasn’t for your sake.”

Vinyl leaned over the pony with a broad smile. “How would you like to go on the tour with me?”

Trixie’s head rose with a jerk, nearly smacking horns with Vinyl. “What?”

“I want you to succeed in your travels,” Vinyl said. “And you once said you wanted to watch and see how I work. This way you get the experience of world-travelling and get to spend time with me doing it.”

Amethyst jumped out from other the covers with a squeal. “What about me?”

“Yeah, what about her?” Trixie sat up to and gestured to the filly. “I thought you didn’t want her to miss school. Take her and she misses a whole school year.”

“I wanna go too.” Amethyst tried stomping for effect, but the impact was muffled by the sheets. Her attempt to make up for it with a scrunched up expression of determination nearly brought giggles to Vinyl. “You can’t take Trixie and not bring me.”

“Hmm…” Vinyl rubbed her chin as she considered the dilemma. “Tell you what: we’ll go see the headmaster this week and ask him what you need to learn next year. Trixie and I will keep you on track while we travel.” She turned to Trixie. “That’s a condition, Trix. If you wanna come, you have to help Amethyst with her homeschooling.”

Trixie went pink and stared at her hooves. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? I mean, me trying to teach anything to anypony?”

“Amethyst taught you how to read.” Vinyl nudged her chin with an elbow. “Think of this as returning the favor. I’ll handle the actual learning, you just help keep her on track.”

“I don’t even know what you mean by that.” Trixie thought on the condition, lips pursed in a tight frown. “Well, it’s not like I’m going to get another chance to do this again. I’ll try.”

Vinyl’s smile grew. “That’s all I ask.”

Amethyst let out another squeal and began bouncing on her bed. “We’re gonna see the world! Best sisters ever!”

Laughing at her enthusiasm, Vinyl used her magic to catch the filly by the tail and ground her to the bed. “You should be getting to bed! Come on, kiddo.”

Amethyst shook her head even as she let Vinyl tuck her back under the covers. “How am I supposed to sleep now? We’re going on tour. Beyond Equestria!”

“Look at it this way,” Vinyl said, patting her on the muzzle. “The faster you fall asleep, the sooner the tour will be.”

With an exaggerated gasp, Amethyst promptly dove her head under pillow and ceased all movement, as if keeping completely still would invite slumber. Vinyl chuckled and considered reminding her to breathe, but figured it was best to leave well enough alone. She turned to bid Trixie goodnight… only to find the opposite bed empty.

Frowning, she looked around the dark room. There was no sign of her elder surrogate sister. Wondering what Trixie was up to now, Vinyl left through the open door.

Trixie waited in the hallway, her expression serious. She gestured at Vinyl, who took the hint and closed the door behind her. “What’s up?”

“I just wanted to say something.” Trixie’s ears lowered and her eyes dropped to the floorboards. “I know you favor Ammy more than me. Ah—” She raised a hoof before Vinyl could get a word in edgewise. “Don’t bother. I understand, Vinyl. You two have a bond, and I’m just… here. I got used to it a long time ago.”

Vinyl cringed at the words, her heart twisting. “You make yourself sound like the third wheel.” She paused to think of her words. It was exceedingly rare for Trixie to speak so openly, and Vinyl wanted to take full advantage of it. “I admit, my attention has been kinda focused more on her, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you, Trix.”

“I know.” With determined eyes, Trixie finally met her gaze. “I also know that your offer with the tour is entirely for my sake. You’re trying to make up for it.”

Vinyl blushed and rubbed the back of her head. “That obvious, huh?”

“Read you like a book.” Trixie smirked, but it lasted only a second or two. “Vinyl, I wanted you to know… I appreciate it. Not just the trip, but everything.” She turned her face away, cheeks a soft pink. “I know I’m something of a brat. I know I don’t make it easy for you. But really, I… If Amethyst hadn’t found me, I’d…”

She fumbled with her words, cheeks growing ever brighter. Vinyl waited patiently, heart filled to bursting as Trixie rubbed her eyes. She wouldn’t rush this. It felt too good.

“You gave me a home, Vinyl.” Trixie sat back and rubbed her eyes some more. “It’s the best gift I’ve ever received. S-so just remember, no matter h-how much of a problem I’m being tomorrow, I… I am really grateful. You don’t have to go on this tour just for me.”

At what point had Vinyl started grinning? She came forward to wrap Trixie in a hug. The pony stiffened under the contact, but after a second or two she returned the motion, sniffling quietly in Vinyl’s mane. They held onto one another for a long time, neither willing to let go.

“I’m glad I got to be your sister,” Trixie whispered.

“Me too.” Vinyl leaned back to grin at her. “And I do have to go on this tour for you. It’s been a long time coming, Trixie.”

Trixie grinned and rubbed her eyes yet again. “Y-you can say that again. I expect my own flying chariot, alright?”

Vinyl chuckled. “Why flying?”

Brushing her mane back, Trixie took on a haughty pose.

“Trixie doesn’t trust wheels.”










November 14, C.Y. 999
HMS King Bullion


The synthetic tones pumped into Vinyl’s ears, the bass shaking the headphones. Frowning, she turned a knob to lessen the thumping. Her hooves moved over the turntable in an automatic fashion, adjusting volume here, changing tempo there. She was ‘in the zone,’ taking in the music and modifying what felt off to her. A lot of things felt off about this particular song, and she suspected it would be a weaker one on the new album.

Her stomach churned, indicating a clear drop in altitude. Vinyl glanced up to examine the massive suite she’d called home for the last three-and-a-half months, with its plush red carpet, hardwood wall paneling and fancy chandelier. That last one shook a little as the airship began its slow descent. Vinyl’s eyes shifted to the large window making up the wall of the suite, confirming that they were still over the clouds.

She smiled upon noticing Amethyst leaning over the back of a couch with her face pressed against the glass. She did that often. Removing her headphones, Vinyl saved the track and meandered over to her sister. “So, any different from last time?”

“It’s so cool!” Amethyst giggled and pulled back to bounce on the couch. “We need to ride in airships more often!”

“Yeah, maybe.” Vinyl wasn’t about to mention that the cost for such a trip was huge, or that this one was being paid for by her record label as a business expense. “Did you read that book I gave you?”

“Most of it.” The filly’s muzzle was pressed against the glass once more. “I’ve got another five chapters left.”

“Good girl.” Vinyl patted her on the head, the motion gaining little recognition. “Remember, Trixie’s gonna quiz you on it this weekend before the show.”

Amethyst’s eyes were glued to the clouds. “Uh-huh.”

Rolling her eyes with a smile, Vinyl left her to cloud-gaze and approached one of the two big doors on her right. She pushed her way through to find a bedroom sporting two beds. One was neat and empty, whereas the other had a large lump beneath the covers. Vinyl approached and sat by the shape, noting how it trembled.

“Hey, Trix. You okay?”

A groan arose from somewhere beneath the mass. “It’s moving again. Why is it moving again?”

“We must be close to Neighrobi.” Vinyl patted where she thought Trixie’s head was. “The ship has to land at some point.”

“Does not.” A blue hoof rose up from under the covers and waggled back and forth in a denying motion. “It can stay up here indefinitely. We’ll survive off the clouds like pegasi.”

Vinyl chuckled. “Sorry, Trix. Don’t think it works that way.”

Another groan answered her as the hoof retreated like a snake into the bowels of the sheets. “When you said we could travel with you, you didn’t say anything about flying…”

“Would it have mattered if I had?”

“No.” Trixie’s head poked out from beneath the covers, her face green and her ears flat against her skull. Her mane was a frazzled mess and she looked about as miserable as Vinyl had ever seen her. “I’d never flown before, so… no. Goddess, I hate airships.”

Vinyl turned her attention to a nearby desk, using her magic to open a drawer and pull out a small, clear bottle of green liquid. “We’ll be in Neighrobi for almost two weeks, so you won’t have to worry about it for a while.” Moving cautiously against the rocking airship, she unscrewed the cap and poured some of the thick, syrupy mixture into it. “Here ya go.”

Trixie eyed the cap as if it might contain poison, but opened her mouth wide. Vinyl tilted the cap so it would be easier to drink out of, and Trixie sucked down the medicine in one quick gulp. She coughed a few times and stuck out her tongue. “What is it about medicine that requires it to be nasty?”

“Dunno,” Vinyl admitted as she screwed the cap back on. “Maybe it’s another Celestia conspiracy.”

“That wouldn’t surprise me any.” Trixie’s head retreated back under the sheets, giving Vinyl the distinct impression of a blue tortoise. “This stuff better kick in soon…”

“It will.” Vinyl patted her head through the sheets. “Trust me, Trix.”

A light knocking came from the open door. “Is it safe to come in?”

Vinyl rolled her eyes. “Honestly, PP, what do you think we’d be doing in here for it not to be safe?” She turned just in time to see the stallion trot into the room. “Seriously, and you call me dirty-minded. Lookin’ good, by the way.”

PP gave a cheeky grin as he adjusted the tie to his expensive white suit. It went well with the dappled grey shades of his coat and brought out the deep blue in his mane. His trademark sunglasses were tucked into a pocket, ready for use in an instant. “Yeah, I do look pretty suave, don’t I? At least, my wife thinks so.” He examined her unclad form curiously. “You planning on dressing up any for your first appearance in Neighrobi?”

“Ponies – or in this case, zebras – don’t pay to see what clothes I’m wearing. Besides,” Vinyl sat and raised one hoof in a haughty pose, using the other to flick her mane, “why would I want to mess with perfection? I’m just fine au naturel.”

Trixie’s frail voice rose from beneath the mass on the bed. “Besides, wouldn’t want to outshine that peacock wife of yours when we first step off the ship.”

“Probably a good call, that.” PP chuckled and glanced over his shoulder as if expecting his wife to be listening in. He sobered a little as he turned back to Vinyl. “For your knowledge, the Guard’s gonna be all over the place when we land. Those are the ponies you’re performing for, so it might be a good idea to stay in form as we depart.”

“Oh, uh, okay.” Vinyl rubbed her chin as she thought on this. “Why would there need to be security around us like that?”

“I wouldn’t be too worried.” He waved a dismissive hoof. “Apparently there’s some minor rebel group in the area. The Guard captain of Neighrobi is being overcautious because they’ve been raiding small towns and whatnot lately.”

“What, seriously?” Vinyl rolled her eyes. “What the hay would a bunch of rebels want with somepony like me? Sounds like the captain’s paranoid.”

“I agree, but they are the Royal Guard.” PP shrugged. “What they say goes, y’know? Just try to appear nonchalant, and for Elysium’s sake, don’t say anything to my wife. If she even hears mention of the word ‘rebel’ she’ll freak and refuse to leave the ship.”

The lump that was Trixie shifted beneath the covers. “She really gets that worked up?”

“Are you kidding?” PP asked with a laugh. “If she feels a drop of water on her muzzle she’ll swear it’s about to storm and refuse to step outside for the day. That mare jumps to the craziest conclusions.”

“Well, I’m not gonna fret over it.” Vinyl sat next to Trixie once more and reached out to stroke what she presumed was the pony’s back. “They can look as grim as they want, those soldiers are still my audience. They’ll get the same treatment everypony else does. If anything, I can make them think they’re getting an early look. Hey…” She shot PP a hopeful expression. “Maybe we can arrange for me to get close, chit-chat with some of them after we land. Maybe give out a few backstage passes or something.”

“I like the way you think, kid.” PP rubbed his chin, his eyes set on the floor. “Might have to clear it with their captain. Let me get to the radio room and see what I can dish up. You’ll know all I do by the time we land, which should be in about an hour.”

Trixie let out a low groan. “An hour?”

PP chuckled and turned for the door. “See you soon, ladies.”

“Don’t worry, Trix.” Vinyl patted her sister. “The meds will kick in long before then.”

Trixie’s reply came as a mere moan. Leaving her to her misery, Vinyl went back to the lounge, where she found Amethyst watching the passing clouds. The filly rested her forelegs over the back of the couch, though she no longer held her face against the glass. Her gaze was set on a particularly large cloud formation that floated by, curiosity set in her calm eyes.

Vinyl sat beside the filly and followed her gaze. The cloud drifted lazily along, quiet and the same as every other save for its size. She couldn’t help but wonder what made it so interesting. “What are you looking at?”

“A mountain.”

Vinyl glanced at Amethyst, then peered at the cloud. She supposed it did have a sort of triangular shape. Perhaps a mountain. “Anything on it?”

“There’s some ponies on the left, about halfway up. They’re walking a really rough path up the mountain.” Amethyst pointed, tracing her hoof along the glass as if to indicate a passage up the cloud. “The hole at the top is a cave. They’re gonna look for treasure.”

“Treasure hunters, eh?” Vinyl smirked and pointed at a particular set of clouds near the top of the formation. “I think there’s a manticore getting ready to pounce on them.”

“That’s not very nice.” Amethyst cocked her head to one side with a small frown. “Maybe he’s hoarding the treasure for himself?”

“Nah, that’s a dragon’s gig.” Vinyl sidled away from the filly and tensed her legs with a wicked smile. “A manticore’s just a big kitty. What he really wants is belly rubs.”

The filly’s face scrunched up in uncertainty as she considered this. “What? I don’t think—”

“Belly rubs!” Vinyl pounced, tackling the filly. Amethyst yelped as Vinyl pinned her to the couch, then laughed wildly as her stomach was assaulted by Vinyl blowing a raspberry on her belly. “Give me belly rubs or I’m gonna eat ya!”

“Noooo!” Amethyst squirmed and kicked, laughing even harder as Vinyl switched to her hooves in a tickle assault. “I’ll g-give you belly rubs, j-just stop!”

“Yes!” Vinyl sat up and took on a regal pose, muzzle turned high in the air. “As Lord of the Mountain, I demand all the belly rubs! You shall grant them to me, slave, or else—hey!” She burst into laughter as tiny hooves wriggled under the pits of her forelegs. Immediately losing her balance, she fell forward on top of Amethyst and snatched her up in a tight hug. “Manticores don’t like being tickled!”

“You don’t know that.” Amethyst nuzzled her cheek against Vinyl’s chest. “You’re just being silly.”

With a loud gasp and a scoff, Vinyl countered, “The Lord of the Mountain is never silly.”

“Right.” Amethyst giggled, then grew quiet. “Hey, Vinyl? Have you ever been to Neighrobi?”

Vinyl rolled off the little pony and sat up. “No. Why?”

Amethyst remained on her back, one hind leg sprawled on the backrest of the couch and a foreleg hanging over the floor. Her eyes remained on the ceiling, gazing upon something distant. “They sell a lot of gems from Neighrobi. I remember reading about it.”

“Well, yeah.” Vinyl shrugged. “I heard that. So what?”

“Maybe, if we have time…” The filly chewed her lip, but it seemed more to buy herself time to think than a showing of anxiety. “I’d like to see one of the mines. Just to see what they’re like.”

Vinyl’s eyebrows rose at this suggestion. “Uh, I doubt the mines around here are anything like Equestrian mines.”

Amethyst nodded, gaze still set on the ceiling. “I’d still like to see it.”

Lips pursed, Vinyl considered her options. She knew how serious her littlest sister was about getting her father’s mine and could only assume this indirect request was related to the matter. Would it be productive to do such a thing and satisfy her curiosity? Would it even be safe? Then again, how often would they get to come to Neighrobi? This might be Amethyst’s only opportunity.

A long sigh escaped Vinyl. Why couldn’t Amethyst stay focused on foal-like things? She wished she’d worry about adult stuff later. Even so…

“Tell you what.” Vinyl leaned down to nuzzle the filly. “I’ll talk to PP and the captain of the guard after we land. If we have time and it’s safe, I’ll see if we can get a tour of one of the mines, okay?”

Amethyst’s eyes drifted to Vinyl. Without a sound, she sat up and wrapped her tiny legs around Vinyl’s barrel, burying her mane in the bigger pony’s chest.

Vinyl patted the filly’s head as she glanced at the great cloud outside. Her eyes drifted to the ‘cave’ near the top, then to the ‘manticore’ below.

She couldn’t help thinking the beast looked unpleasantly fierce.
	
> Book II — Vinyl Scratch: Crossfire
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------




There wasn’t a lot of choice in the matter, was there? Everything happened so quickly. At the time, I didn’t care about politics or class warfare or… well, anything. I had Ammy and Trixie. Nothing else mattered. Oh, I might have harbored a tiny smidgen of concern regarding Celestia based on the nightmares Amethyst sometimes had, but I never thought any of that would affect me in any meaningful way.

I should have known better. Did I not believe Amethyst’s story? Had I not gone through Equestria’s horrendous adoption and foster care system? Every day I was living under somepony else’s roof, I witnessed what all those seemingly unimportant things really meant to the little ponies, the ones who weren’t rich or who didn’t work for nobility. The signs were all around me, and I never took the time to read them. In the end, it took a concert in Neighrobi to pull the blinders from around my eyes.

Granted, I didn’t get it just then. It took a little more time. That was the moment that started my gradual path to understanding. It’s kind of ironic, really.

Almost every day, I wish I could go back to that ignorance.

—Vinyl Scratch, Book of Shadows XLVIII
May 25, 1007












November 16, C.Y. 999
Neighrobi


“In what year was the King Sombra defeated?”

“Celestial Year Eighteen.”

“Canterlot Castle was constructed in how many years?”

“Um… eleven? I think.”

Vinyl stood outside the barely opened door, peeking in with a lone eye. A light breeze blew through the hotel’s dimly lit hallway, but she repressed the urge to shiver. Instead, she focused on Trixie, who continued to rattle off questions from the notebook hovering before her. She seemed so firm and steady, having taken to the role of test-giver with a level of determination rarely seen. In a way, Vinyl felt proud of her for being so responsible about the whole thing.

Amethyst sat on the bed opposite Trixie, shifting from hoof to hoof with head low. The temptation to pat her head and offer encouragement nearly brought Vinyl to reveal herself, but she held out. After all, it had been Vinyl who initiated the rule that she couldn’t be present for tests, a necessity when Trixie caught her mouthing answers to the filly. Trixie and Amethyst both took the lessons far more seriously than she’d expected.

“Eighty-five out of one hundred.” Trixie beamed at the filly and showed her the grade in the notebook. “That’s much better than the last test.”

“Eighty-five?” Amethyst’s head rose, revealing a startled smile. “Really? I did that good?”

“Yep!” Trixie examined the questions once more, eyes shifting over the pages. “You’re doing better than I could have. Honestly, I don’t know how you remember any of this stuff. Trixie doesn’t need to learn history, anyway.”

“Do too.” Amethyst rolled her eyes. “Are you sure I got an eighty-five?”

“Hey, Vinyl’s the one who wrote the questions and answers,” Trixie replied defensively, tapping the top of the notebook. “I’m just going by the script.”

Vinyl retreated into the hallway, a grin splitting her face wide. An eighty-five. Amethyst really was improving a lot. If she could do that well in her worst subject, she’d go far. Vinyl sat and felt at her chest, from which she had a curious swelling sensation. Pride… 

Was this how most parents felt about their foals when they were so successful?

Trixie’s voice floated through the crack in the door. “You remember the deal, right? Get an average score of ninety on all the tests and you get to help with my routine in the park tomorrow.”

“And Vinyl swore to try some of that bug sauce the zebras use in their meals.” Amethyst giggled like a mad filly. “You hear that, Vinyl? You’re gonna eat bug juice!”

The thought sent a wave of nausea through Vinyl, prompting her to stick out her tongue and fake a gag. Still, she chose to say nothing; why confirm the filly’s suspicion that she was listening in? Instead she crept away, walking backwards with a bemused smile. Having to eat crushed bug was a worthy punishment in return for Amethyst’s education. She could make the sacrifice… although she’d be endeavoring to make sure both ponies forgot that particular promise, if at all possible.

As she reached the door to her own room, something bumped into her flank. She flinched and turned to find that she’d backed into another pony, who dropped his keys in surprise. “Oop, sorry,” she whispered, eyes shifting to her sisters’ door.

“No problem.” The stallion turned to her with a warm smile. Something struck Vinyl as really odd about him, but in the dim lighting it took her a moment to realize what it was: the pony had stripes. This wouldn’t have been so odd in Neighrobi if it weren’t for the fact that he didn’t have the thin, tall build of a zebra.

Vinyl stepped back to get a better look at him. “I saw you in the hall earlier, didn’t I?”

“Probably.” He offered his hoof, which she bumped. “You’re Vinyl Scratch, aren’t you?”

“Yep.” Vinyl struck a little pose and smirked. “I see my reputation precedes me.”

He chuckled, brushing his mane from his eyes. “More so than mine, I’m afraid. I’m Cheeky.”

“Are you now?” Vinyl paused as she realized her mistake. “Oh, you mean that’s you name. Sorry.” Cocking her head, she considered what she’d just learned as she examined him. He was just a hair taller than she was, but with a lighter frame. Though his colors were muted by the lighting, she suspected him to be orange with a brown mane. His stripes, however, were black.

It clicked. “You’re Cheeky Grin, the oboist. You’re going to be performing tomorrow, right before I am.”

Cheeky Grin offered his namesake and gave a flamboyant bow. “That’d be me. I’m not as popular as you are these days, but I have my niche. Tell me, did you actually know of me before you got to Neighrobi, or only when you read who all would be performing there?”

Vinyl shifted from hoof to hoof, cheeks burning. “Uh, I knew who you were. Totally.” At his raised eyebrow, she sighed. “Okay, yeah, I’d never heard of ya until four days ago. Nopony said anything about you being… er…”

He laughed. “A half-breed? It’s okay to say it, it’s not considered derogatory here. And if it makes you feel any better,” he added with a smirk, “I had hardly heard of you before I got approached for the job.”

“A little, yeah.” Vinyl’s chuckle joined his. “Never saw you on the Bullion, so I guess you’re a local musician?”

“Yep.” He turned away, sweeping his keys off the floor. He stepped to the door opposite her own. “You wanna come in and chat? I’ve got some coffee brewing.”

Vinyl considered the prospect, imagining the recording equipment sitting in her room with its unfinished songs. A yawn invaded her concentration, reminding her that she probably wouldn’t be getting very far tonight without caffeine. Though not sure she could trust this guy, she figured herself more than capable of handling him if he turned out to be a creep. “Sure, why not?”

Cheeky’s room was identical to Vinyl’s, save that it had less of a mess and sported an oboe stand and case in the corner. He went directly to the coffee machine by the bathroom sink, leaving Vinyl to close the door and look around. Her eyes landed on some sheet music neatly stacked on the kitchen counter. She played the music in her head, automatically making small adjustments to match the tune with her style. It wasn’t a bad piece at all, though it seemed too slow for her tastes.

“You know it?” Cheeky asked from across the room.

“Haven’t heard Tchaikhoovsky in a long time,” she admitted, flipping to the next page. “I’m more of a Beecloven fan.”

He glanced from over his shoulder. “Pardon me for saying so, but I hardly imagined you to appreciate classical music.”

“I know, that’s not my image.” Vinyl sat and hummed a couple lines, then frowned and thought on how to ‘fix’ it into her style. “Most think ponies like me don’t appreciate the greats, but that’s not true at all. We study them just as much as any other musician.”

“Huh. Consider me impressed.” Cheeky turned to watch her for a moment as the coffee brewed. “I’d offer to play it for you, but it’s pretty late and the walls in this place are thin. Plus, I’m sharing a wall with your friends.”

“My sisters,” she corrected with a small smile, flipping another page. “I thought I’d let them tag along. Earns me the ‘best sister ever’ title, y’know?”

“Not really,” he said with a shrug. “No siblings.”

Silence filled the room, save for the occasional hum from Vinyl and the drip of the brewing coffee. After a while she glanced at a clock on the bedstand and saw it was past ten. The temptation to go remind Trixie and Amethyst of their schedule and the need for sleep arose, but then Vinyl recalled that she had no intention of going to bed anytime soon. She accepted a steaming mug from Cheeky and decided not to bother with the hypocrisy.

“So…” Vinyl cast around for some inspiration on what to say next. “You don’t speak in rhyme?”

“I was raised in Equestria,” he replied before blowing the steam from his coffee. “I didn’t have to learn to speak that way. Besides, you have to follow the Traditions of the Ancients.”

“Traditions of the Ancients?” Vinyl cocked her head. “You’re gonna have to explain that one to me.”

“It goes by many names.” Cheeky eyed the ceiling as if it might help with his recollection. “The dragons call it The Way of the Voice, the minotaur call it the Old Way. Even the diamond dogs have a term for it; ‘Good Steps,’ or something like that. It’s not a faith, per se, more like a philosophy. It’s taken extremely seriously here, and those who follow it among the zebra speak in rhyme, apparently in honor of the one that started the whole thing.”

“Huh. Sounds like a hassle to me.” Vinyl winced. “No offense?”

“None taken.” Cheeky waved a dismissive hoof and sipped his coffee. “I never thought the rhyming thing was all that big a deal.”

Yet again, a quiet fell between them, disturbed only by the occasional shift or gulp of caffeine. Eager to not let the silence drift into awkwardness, Vinyl tried to think of something to say. Her eyes fell on his stripes.

“From my dad’s side of the family,” he said before she could cast her gaze away. “I’m second generation in that regard.”

“Oh.” Feeling strangely anxious, Vinyl stared into her mug. “So… you were born in Equestria?”

“Yep.”

“Why move to Neighrobi?”

“That’s the big question, I suppose.” Cheeky turned his gaze to a nearby window, from which the half-full moon could be seen over the buildings. The shadow of Nightmare Moon was partially visible, seeming to peek out from the darkness like a shy filly. Vinyl approached the window and took in the view, which was fairly nice for a cityscape.

It seemed like forever since the question had been asked, but Cheeky finally spoke again. “I didn’t like Equestria much. My grandfather went there for opportunity, but all I saw was misery.” He scowled at his reflection in the window. “My mother kept using dye to hide my stripes. It was never pretty when anypony saw them.”

Vinyl glanced at him, feeling no small amount of sympathy. “How bad was it?”

“Could have been worse.” He shrugged. “Got beat a few times, once spent a few nights in jail over something I didn’t do. At least I had it better than…” He glanced away and mumbled something. Vinyl made no attempt to press him on the matter.

After a couple seconds, he turned back to the window. “Sorry, old wounds and all that. You seem a lot more tolerant than the average unicorn, though. If that’s not too forward?”

“Nope.” Vinyl closed her eyes and thought of her foalhood and the things that she’d seen throughout the foster system. “I had a pretty tough time of it myself. I know there’s this whole stigma about interbreeding.” Her thoughts went to Amethyst and her parents, leading to an involuntary shiver. “I haven’t experienced it firsthoof, but I have an idea what it’s like to be blamed for your heritage.”

Cheeky nodded, his expression hard. “If only the ponies knew just how many half-breeds there are out there. There’d be anarchy… or something. For all its success, Equestria is a cruel place.”

“It is indeed.” Vinyl stared up at the moon, questioning how things could be so bad.

“Well, at least it’s been good to you, right?” Cheeky’s smile came back with an ease that startled. “You get to be a rising star thanks to the dupes.”

“Dupes? I happen to like my fans, thank you very much.”

“Like them?” Cheeky leaned forward, his eyelids lowered in a peering gaze. “Granted, they pay, but think about who they really are, Vinyl. Pegasi with their heads in the clouds, unicorns acting all high and mighty, both looking down on the earth ponies. Let’s not even consider what the three think of outsiders. They’re all mean, selfish and conceited. They let themselves be that way.”

Vinyl raised an eyebrow, lips set in a thin line. “Is that how you see me?”

“No, you’re different.” There was no hurry or guilt in his response, just a direct argument. “If you were anything like them, you wouldn’t have accepted my invitation to chat. You probably would have spit in my face.”

“Hmm.” Vinyl set a hoof to her chest. “If I can be different, why can’t any number of the ponies in Equestria? Just because you only experienced the bad doesn’t mean that’s all there is.”

“No, just a majority.”

She sighed and shook her head. “Is that why you left Equestria? To get away from the bad?”

“Pretty much.” He left the window to pour himself another cup of coffee. “Although, if I’m wholly honest about it, my style of music also gets more appreciation here. Equestria might be the land of the successful, but it’s not the only place to make a career.”

Vinyl waited, her eyes set on the cityscape but her mind focused on the events of her life. The more she thought about it, the more she disliked it. She remembered how the foster system left her bereft of a family for most of her life; how Trixie was so often ridiculed and bullied for her weaknesses; how Amethyst’s parents died; how she herself had no parents. Equestria really could be a cruel place.

But it wasn’t all bad. She had her sisters, and they had her. She had her career and enough common sense to manage herself, so none of them would ever want for anything. She closed her eyes and saw Trixie standing over Amethyst, helping her with her studies despite having no interest in doing so. They were so different, Trixie and Ammy, but so close. It brought a smile to her lips.

Cheeky was at her side once more. “I’m sorry,” he whispered over his freshly steaming mug. “I invite you in here, and all I do is complain about things. Not much of a host, am I?”

“It’s alright. We all have something to say.” Vinyl blinked, not exactly sure what she meant by that. Cheeky offered no response, though, so she let it go.

They sat quietly for a time, just watching the city and basking in the dark. Eventually Vinyl’s coffee ran out and she had to get a refill. Only half a mug this time, lest her bladder protest in the middle of the night.

As she settled back down by the window, Cheeky spoke. “So what do you have to say?”

Vinyl blinked, studying him from over her mug. “Me?”

He nodded, gaze still set on the moon. “If we all have something to say, what’s your something?”

She blew the steam from her mug, buying time to consider the question. “I never thought about it. I’ve never really had anything important to say. If you put me on the spot and forced it out of me, I’d probably say something about being there for my sisters.”

“Hmm.” He offered a wan smile. “They’re important to you.”

“More than anything,” she admitted with a smile of her own. “I wasn’t going to go on this tour at all. They wanted to go, though.”

His smile broadened. “And I guess your parents had to come along as well?”

She huffed a weak laugh. “What parents?”

Cheeky’s eyes widened and his pupils shrank, followed immediately by a healthy smattering of stammered apologies. She waited patiently for the noise to burn out before adding, “Don’t worry about it. When you’ve spent all your life without parents, the fact doesn’t really bother you anymore.”

“But still, I feel like a jerk for bringing it up.” He hesitated before adding, “How’d they die?”

Another small laugh escaped Vinyl. “I don’t even know if they’re dead. Same goes for Trixie. We don’t actually know who our parents are. And before you ask, yes, we do know who Amethyst’s parents are, and they are most certainly dead.” Her amusement faded when the memory of her kid sister’s nightmares came to mind. It was a minor distraction, though; Ammy hadn’t suffered from one of those in ages.

“Uh-huh.” Cheeky cocked his head as he considered her. “So… you aren’t really sisters?”

“Nope. Legally, I’m Amethyst’s mom and Trixie’s guardian. We feel like sisters, though, so that’s what we call ourselves.”

Cheeky’s smile came back, this time full of warmth. “Sounds like you did them a lot of good.”

Vinyl’s chest swelled at the statement and lips pulled back in a grin. “Yeah… I like to think so.”

His smile broadened and he set a hoof to her shoulder. “Well, if you don’t mind my saying so, it’s an honor to be sharing a stage with somepony like you. It’s good to know that there are still some good ponies in Equestria.”

“Thanks.” Vinyl wallowed in pride for a while. It was quite the pleasant sensation. It was also inspirational, and Vinyl began tapping her hoof. She turned from the window, her eyes going to the sheet music on the bed. “Hey, can I borrow that?”

“Borrow what?” Cheeky turned and looked where she pointed. “Oh, that? Sure, I was just keeping it for inspiration. Just give it back before the concerts are done next week, alright?”

“You bet.” Vinyl took the music in her magical aura, flipping through the pages with a peering gaze. Excitement began to bubble within her. “This is gonna be awesome for my next album! I’ve gotta get to work on this while the juices are still flowing through my brain, you know?”

Cheeky laughed, setting a fetlock over his lips to keep from being too loud. “Glad to know I can inspire! You’ll let me have dibs on a copy when it’s done, right?”

“Of course.” Vinyl punched his shoulder and pranced to the door. “Thanks for this, Cheeky, and the coffee. See you at the concert tomorrow?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”










November 18, C.Y. 999
Outside Neighrobi


“Who here thinks they know how to party?”

Vinyl leaned over her DJ booth and aimed her ears forward in time to hear the excited shouts of the audience. She scowled and shook her head. “You call that a scream? I want to hear it!”

The crowd stomped and shouted with enough force to shake the stage, the chaos amplified by the flashing lights and shifting colors of the outdoor theater. It was so noisy that she thought the zebras in the city several miles away probably heard it.

“That’s more like it!” She flicked a few switches and prepped the next track. “I wanna see every pony on that dance floor, you hear me? Get out there and make some noise!”

All in all, Vinyl really liked this batch of soldiers. They were far better than the prudes in Prance. As the next song blasted over the speakers and the audience got into the music, she leaned back and observed the scene with a satisfied smile. Neighrobi was starting to be one of her favorite stops on this little tour. The soldiers welcomed her warmly, were reacting great to the music, and knew how to get into the groove. She glanced over to spot PP and his wife standing behind stage left and threw them an encouraging wave.

PP hoof-pumped with a broad grin. On the other hoof, his wife – a mustard-yellow unicorn with a fiery red mane – maintained a haughty scowl. It had been established long ago that Vinyl’s music wasn’t among the mare’s preferences, and Vinyl had to wonder why she was there at all. Shouldn’t she be off enjoying tea with the more ‘elite’ ponies? Then again, there was no way that one would be rubbing shoulders with zebras, so her options had probably been limited.

Vinyl let her head bob to the music and watched as the mass of ponies moved to the beat. It was interesting seeing so many colors on the dance floor; without their enchanted armor to make their coats uniformly white, soldiers looked about as regular as any other pony. The crowd consisted mostly of earth ponies, although Vinyl noted a few wings every here and there. No unicorns today, curiously.

“Looks like you’re a hit,” somepony shouted into her ear. Vinyl turned to find Cheeky Grin standing beside her, once again sporting his namesake.

Eyebrows raised, Vinyl leaned close to his ear. “What are you doing out here, dude?”

“Ask them first.” He pointed, directing Vinyl towards a couple stallions who had somehow managed to climb on the stage and were doing something disastrous that they probably thought constituted dancing. She couldn’t help but laugh at the sight as the ponies below cheered them on.

“Some ponies have no shame.” She turned back to Cheeky with a grin of her own. “So whaddaya think of my art?”

“It’s…” He rubbed his ears with a glance at the vibrating speakers. “Loud.”

“That’s the way it’s gotta be.” Vinyl turned and grabbed the microphone. “Do you ponies like it loud?” The query was met with a collective scream of approval so great it startled one of the stage dancers into falling off. Vinyl turned to Cheeky with a smirk. “See?”

Cheeky slowly pulled his hooves from his ears and shook his head. “Wow.” He sat and gazed at the crowd. After a few seconds he leaned closer. “Are your sisters here?”

She raised an eyebrow, suddenly curious. “Yeah, they’re backstage. What are you doing up here again?”

He nodded, expression grim. “You’re gonna have to stop the music after this song. Somepony important has an announcement to make.”

“What?”

He grimaced and shouted directly into her ear. “I said, somepony important wants to say something!”

She leaned back and rubbed her ear with a grimace. “Geez, I heard you the first time, dude! It was a reaction.”

“Oh.” He glanced away with a blush.

Vinyl reached under the DJ Booth for the performance book she’d been keeping, taking a moment to note how much more of the song was left before flipping it open. “There’s nopony listed as coming on during my act.”

“There is now.” Cheeky nodded stage left. Vinyl glanced that way to see that a zebra now stood close to PP and his wife. Some words were exchanged, and Vinyl could have sworn she saw her producer’s face go white. When he caught her looking, he offered only a nod.

Vinyl leaned back towards Cheeky. “Something big’s happening, isn’t it?”

“We’ll find out in a few seconds.” His firm tone defied his words, though, and Vinyl suspected he knew exactly what was coming. Gritting her teeth, she raised her hoof above the kill switch and waited for the song to end. Her eyes shifted over the crowd, but she could see nothing amiss.

The last note faded, and Vinyl hit the button. The static of the speakers faded to a glaring silence and the flashing lights flicked off. The soldiers below all came to a steady pause, shuffling around in confusion and looking up to the stage for answers. Vinyl had none to offer, her eyes shifting to Cheeky. His face might have been made of stone for all she could get from it.

Just as she was about to ask a question, there came shouts from outside the theatre. Vinyl turned in time to see hooded figures burst from the trees and shrubs surrounding the place, all of them wielding weapons of some kind. The startled soldiers turned to face the aggressors and Vinyl braced, heart leaping into her throat, but no attack came.

“What the buck’s going on?” she hissed to Cheeky, wide eyes panning the scene. The soldiers were too tightly packed to form any sort of defensive formation that she could see, but the hooded figures forming a tight line around them simply stood by, weapons aimed at the crowd. Though their cloaks kept their identities well hidden, it was clear by the hooves holding the spears, swords and other tools that they were zebras.

A collective gasp filled the audience, and Vinyl turned in time to see a tall, muscular zebra step out from stage right. Despite a slight limp, he sported a physique that would make bodybuilders weep with envy, and though he had a friendly smile, there was a force behind his blue eyes that defied the expression. He walked right up to Vinyl, who could only stare and feel small.

He paused before her, and when he spoke his voice was like molten honey. “I pray my apology will suffice. I must ask for that device.”

Before she could even consider the statement, Vinyl grabbed the microphone in her magic and offered it to him. He reached up to grab it, and her eyes only grew bigger; instead of a hoof, he sported an artificial limb that appeared to be made of solid iron extending from just below the knee. The device sported four talon-like fingers that grasped the microphone with a firm but uneven grip, causing the it to tilt at an angle.

“My thanks to you, sure and true.” His eyes softened and he gave her a nod. “You are not part of the plot we hatch, so please be at ease, Miss Vinyl Scratch.”

She watched him walk towards center stage with her mic, then slowly leaned back towards Cheeky. “Who is that?”

“Tune Grief,” he whispered in a tone of awe. “Leader of the Jioni Barabara.”

Vinyl’s eyes crossed as she tried to take in the name. “The what now?”

“Good evening, soldiers all, you who answer the musician’s call.” Tune Grief strode across the stage like he owned it, a smug smile on his lips. “I hope you do not much lament the end of tonight’s entertainment. I suppose by your group reaction that I need no introduction, but know I am Tune Grief, and I come to fix your foul belief.”

The lone soldier still standing on the stage shifted to an aggressive pose and charged. “The leader of the rebels! You’re coming—” His words were interrupted by an explosive crunch, his charge met by a head-butt so strong it dropped him like a bag of flour. Vinyl could only gape at the sight of a soldier taken down with such ease.

Tune Grief turned to the crowd, not even phased by the interruption. “You stand for the glory of Celestia, and strive to protect Equestria? Never have I seen so many fools led astray with charismatic tools! Today you shall know what Celestia dare not show, the crimes that she commits and those who fall victim to her wits.”

Vinyl rubbed her head, ignoring whatever he was saying in favor of clearing the haze in her head. She turned to Cheeky, who was listening to the speech with a gaze of outright rapture. “For a giant lump of stud, he sure talks a lot. What’s he prattling on about?”

Cheeky shifted out of his trance and gave her a glower. “Only an extension of what we discussed yesterday. He’s trying to explain our philosophy and avoid bloodshed, because that’s the kind of hero he is.”

“Hero?” Vinyl glanced towards the rebel leader, a sinking feeling in her stomach. “He’s got all those ponies at spearpoint, and you think he’s a hero? Might I add that I’m stuck in this mess.” Her eyes went wide. “Wait… What about Trixie and Ammy?”

“Don’t worry about them,” Cheeky said as his focus went back to Tune Grief. “They’re in no danger.”

“And how do you know that?” She started to stand, but stiffened like a statue as something sharp pressed against her side. “Ch-Cheeky?”

“Please, Vinyl,” he hissed, “just stay still and wait it out. We don’t like civilians being caught in the middle of our war.”

Slowly, heart hammering in her chest, Vinyl sat back down. Her body remained rigid, and the blade didn’t shift from her side. She stared at the rebel leader, not taking in his words in any capacity. “Was I part of this plan all along?”

“No, we just chose today because you had the highest turnout. Plus, no unicorns to fight.” Cheeky twisted the blade, which brought a small sting to her side. “Now be quiet, I’m trying to listen.”

Despite herself, Vinyl trained her ears towards Tune Grief.

“…years of misery, how can the source be mystery? I beg you all to open your eyes and see through the sun’s lies! Celestia seeks only to pain and hurt, and sees you all as filthy dirt. It can be hard to see through your indoctrination, but…”

Giving up on understanding his speech, Vinyl instead turned her thoughts to Amethyst and Trixie. If they were behaving, then they were still backstage. Her eyes shifted to PP, who remained beyond the stage left curtain with a fearful look in his eye. His wife appeared about ready to faint. Vinyl and her producer shared a fretful gaze that lingered for several long seconds.

At last she broke the contact, turning her eyes to Cheeky. “If anything happens to my sisters…”

“It won’t,” he whispered.

She grimaced at him. “And what about reinforcements? You don’t think somepony is going to warn the base right now?”

“It’ll take them an hour to get there and back. We’ll be long gone by then.”

Lips pursed, Vinyl eyed the audience. Not a single one of them appeared at all swayed by whatever rhetoric Tune Grief was spouting. Ominous gazes cast about, both at the rebels surrounding them and their leader on the stage. There was a hushed urgency about them that brought a chill down Vinyl's spine. At that moment, the full implications of her situation became terribly clear.

“H-hey,” she whispered, “what are the chances of this turning violent?”

Cheeky sighed, but it wasn’t of annoyance. “Pretty good.”

“Uh-huh.” She shifted slightly, trying to take the edge off of whatever was pressed against her. “And, uh, what’s the plan to make sure I’m not killed in the process?” She winced as some of the soldiers started shouting insults at the rebels. An almost visible tension filled the air, growing more sinister with every passing second.

“Don’t run,” Cheeky whispered. “If you do, our boys might think you’re the enemy. Just stay and wait it out.”

Vinyl already knew that following his advice would be impossible. If fighting did break out, her only priority would be to get to her sisters and ensure their safety. She silently cursed PP for telling her about this job, and herself for agreeing to it. Granted, she’d never expected in a million lifetimes that she’d be caught in the middle of some rebel movement.

Heart pounding, ears perked towards the crowd, Vinyl surveyed the situation. She had a feeling that Cheeky was honest in his desire not to harm her, but she still had a blade of some sort pressed against her ribs. Dealing with that would be her first priority when the fighting started… and judging by the way the soldiers were starting to drown out Tune Grief’s words with their outrage, that would be soon.

Just as she began to think about potential ways to disarm Cheeky, Vinyl saw the crowd surge in all directions. Tune Grief shouted pleas for calm, but his efforts were fruitless; the soldiers had heard enough. Even unarmed, they came at the surrounding rebels in a stampede. Soldiers smashed into armed zebras, a wave upon a wall, and Vinyl could already see that the wall wasn’t strong enough. Within seconds the zebras were being pushed back, their circle cracking under the weight of their attackers.

Seeing that his efforts were for naught, Tune Grief reared back his head and let out a call so loud it pierced Vinyl’s ears. A moment later, even more zebras joined the circle, speartips gleaming as they answered their leader’s call. Others burst out from behind the curtain, meeting the soldiers as they clambered onto the stage. Tune Grief joined the soldiers head on well before his allies could enter the fray, falling upon the ponies like a hurricane of muscle.

“Crap!” Cheeky stood, his head turning to take in the commotion. “This is going a lot faster than planned!”

Caught between gazing at the mayhem and blood, Vinyl almost missed her chance. She kicked backwards with her foreleg and jumped sideways, both knocking Cheeky’s blade from her side and escaping his presence. She didn’t waste any time trying to finish him off, instead turning to charge for the curtain. “Ammy, Trixie! Where are you?”

She was immediately met by two zebras that burst from behind the curtain. They came at her with spears aimed for her chest. Vinyl considered trying to talk, but the idea was cast away the instant it came to mind; all these zebras knew was that she was a pony, and that made her the enemy. Acting on pure instinct, she dodged one spear, then knocked the other one up and over her shoulder with a foreleg. She aimed quickly and shot a beam right in the face of the first zebra, who fell back with a shout.

Burning pain ran through her foreleg as her other opponent retracted his spear, the sharp edge of the back of the weapon's tip cutting into her flesh. He immediately tried to stab, but Vinyl’s leg was still up and she dropped it on top of the wood, sending the blade into the floor. The motion had been accidental, but Vinyl didn’t wait to count her lucky stars; she aimed for his face and unleashed a blast of directed sound out of her horn so loud it made his head rattle.

The first zebra was recovering, but Vinyl had no interest in continuing the fight; she shoved between them and darted behind the curtain before either could stop her.

“Trixie! Amethyst!” She galloped along the curtain, eyes moving frantically over the backstage area. There were no zebras left; presumably they were all outside fighting. “Come on, girls, where are you?!”

“Vinyl!”

She slid to a stop, her head whipping around. What she saw sent a lance through her heart and rooted her to the spot.

PP lay sprawled on his back, blood pooling around a gaping wound in his neck. His face was covered by his blue mane, his body still. Leaning over him was his wife, who sobbed uncontrollably as blood seeped into her dress. “H-help him. Please, Vinyl, help!”

“I… I…” Vinyl could only gape. She wanted to say something, to do something, to react in any meaningful way, but words and actions failed her. Blood pounded in her skull and the chaotic noise of combat swelled over her mind like a flood. “Polished…”

“Help.” His wife sat back to gaze at Vinyl, and when she did Vinyl felt her heart sink even lower; the blood seeping into her dress wasn’t coming from PP. There was a hole in her chest, from which crimson blossomed out like a morbid flower. “V-Vinyl, help us…”

The mare collapsed backwards. It seemed so slow, too slow to be natural. Vinyl watched as she hit the floor, the sound muted amongst the fighting. She just lay there, still breathing, eyes glazing over as her perfect dress gradually changed colors.

Something brushed past Vinyl, knocking her sideways. She looked up and realized that it was zebras. They were retreating.

The sight of their movement snapped Vinyl’s mind back into place and she jerked into motion. “Amethyst!”

She got two steps in before something slammed into her side. Her head smacked the wall so hard that her vision swam. “H-hey, stop…” Her voice seemed so frail all of a sudden. She reached up and felt blood on the side of her head. “T-Trixie… Ammy…”

The floor rose up to meet her. She lay there, the world still spinning as countless hooves darted past, first striped, then colorful. The shouting became indecipherable, her thoughts drifted.

“M-must… find…”

The world faded.










November 19, C.Y. 999
Outside Neighrobi


Vinyl woke with a start and found herself gazing upon a ugly yellow ceiling. She lay there for a moment, not comprehending the sight. It took a few seconds just to remember to breathe. As soon as she did, the memories came rushing back in a flood and she was sitting up—

—only to crash back down. She groaned and rubbed her head, her hooves touching upon what could only be bandages. Her skull throbbed, but at least the pain made it clear that she was alive.

“Hey, Vinyl.”

Cracking one eye open, Vinyl struggled through the pain and turned her head to her left. There was Trixie, just rising from a straw mattress on the floor in a corner. Despite the pain, Vinyl grinned at the sight. “You made it out.”

“Yeah.” Trixie sat next to the bed and set a hoof on Vinyl’s shoulder. “Bad headache?”

Vinyl started to nod, but stopped herself as the fire in her brain grew more intense. “Y-yeah.”

“Doctor said that was likely. You’ll have to stay in bed for a day or two and lay off the magic, but it’ll go away.” Trixie rested her chin on the bed, and though her eyes were aimed away the worry in them was apparent. “You had me scared when I found you backstage.”

Vinyl pursed her lips and stared at the ceiling. “Next to PP, right?” Silence was her only answer. She didn’t mind; she wasn’t sure what to say either, other than a feeble, “Sorry I worried you.”

The quiet lingered for some time. Vinyl had a lot of questions, but wasn’t sure if now was the right time. Her skull still throbbed after all, which made just talking an unpleasant experience. She attention shifted; she couldn't focus well. A new topic shifted unbidden in her head.

“Where’s Amethyst?”

She stared at the ceiling, waiting for an answer. She became aware of a fan by her bed, its blades turning lazily in the wind of an open window. Now that she looked, Vinyl realized she must be in a hospital room. Her eyes drifted to the cracked plaster and dull colors. It hardly looked like a modern place. Perhaps they weren’t in Neighrobi proper?

Her eyes shifted to her sister. “Trixie? Where’s Ammy?”

Trixie closed her eyes. Her breath came in a slow, controlled manner and her expression was hard.

“Trixie?”

With one last, long breath, Trixie answered. “The rebels took her.”

“Oh.” Vinyl stared at the ceiling again, letting the concept wash over her. It was like dread and anger and loss and terror combined in a single, slow wave. She didn’t know why she was so calm about it. She wanted to scream, but… but just couldn’t. “W-why?”

“A hostage.” Trixie set a hoof to Vinyl’s shoulder once more. “They needed hostages to escape. They severely underestimated the strength of the Royal Guard, even unarmed.”

“A hostage.” Vinyl’s lips worked soundlessly as the concept ground its way into her consciousness. “My Little Sparkler, a hostage to those animals? I… I…” A tear fell down her cheek. She made no attempt to hide it.

“You just rest up.” Trixie leaned over to nuzzle her shoulder. “I’ll take care of everything, okay? Just rest.”

“How am I supposed to do that?” Vinyl tried to sit up, but the agony coursed through her skull once more and knocked her back down. “I can’t just lay here.”

“You don’t have a choice.” Trixie’s smile was frail. “Even without the doc’s orders, you can’t move. I’ll deal with it, I promise.”

Vinyl wanted to shake her head, to scream a denial, to insist that she come along. She couldn’t do any of those things, because deep down she knew that Trixie was right. There was just too much pain. “What’s being done for Ammy?”

“We’re going to look for her,” Trixie declared, standing tall and resolute. “We’ll find those rebel bastards, and then I’m personally getting her back.”

“No.” Vinyl stared up at Trixie with wide eyes. “Trix, you’re not a soldier. You can’t go hunting for Ammy like that.”

“Yes, I can.”

Vinyl raised a bandaged hoof, but it was pushed back down by Trixie’s magic. “You don’t understand, Vinyl. I owe everything I have to that filly. To you too, but without her I wouldn’t have met you. We’re family. I have to do my part.”

Another tear streaked down Vinyl’s face as she stared upon her sister, love and pride and fear mixing chaotically within her. “B-but Trix… you are family. I don’t want to risk losing both of you.”

Trixie’s smile grew warm, and she bent down to nuzzle Vinyl’s cheek. The contact sent a wave of pain through Vinyl’s head, but she tolerated it.

“You underestimate me. After all, who am I?” She stood tall and grinned. “I’m the Great and Powerful Trixie. A few pitiful rebels won’t slow me down.”

At that moment, Vinyl knew she couldn’t stop her. The realization was like a vice on her heart, and she shook her head in spite of the agony. “Don’t go. Please…”

“You need to rest.” Trixie turned away. “Don’t worry, Vinyl. Trixie has this under control. When next you wake up, Ammy will be right here with you. I guarantee it.”

“No.” Vinyl made a third attempt to sit up, and for a third time she failed. She raised her hoof for Trixie as she walked away. “Don’t go.”

Trixie paused at the doorway. She didn’t look back.

“I love you, Vinyl. Don’t worry, I’ll be back soon.”

“Don’t go. Don’t go. Don’t go…”

Vinyl repeated the line even after Trixie had left. She kept saying it, over and over again. It was the last thing she heard before unconsciousness retook her.
> Book II — Vinyl Scratch: In The Hooves of Strangers
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------





So many things bothered me these past few years. Things I couldn’t answer, or didn’t want to know the answer to. I want to blame somepony, but who is there to blame? I can’t trust any of them to have told me the truth of the matter. Oh, Fine takes responsibility, and Octavia acts all guilty whenever we graze the subject, but who is really responsible? I don’t think I’ll ever know, but it’s always been in the back of my head.

Fine used to say that the truth is for ponies who lack imagination. It’s a bit of a joke. I know that, but sometimes I just want to tear his head off. My life isn’t a joke. My eyes aren’t a joke. Amethyst and Trixie are not jokes!

Do I blame him? Yes. But I also blame Octavia. It was her plan, her ponies, her lack of preparation. Then there’s Surprise. How could I possibly not blame her? I know she doesn’t think like normal ponies, that it’s all just a big game to her… but sometimes, when I hear her voice, I swear I detect just the tiniest hint of regret there.

Regret is not enough. There are nights when I lie awake in the eternal darkness and wish I could make them aware of what they put us through. Then I ponder on that darkness, and the light that never comes. Those are the moments that make me cry, because I always realize that any amount of revenge won’t make a difference. I’m here, for better or for worse, and I have to live with it.

Amethyst. If ever you learn the truth about your surrogate sister, I hope to all that is holy that you’ll find it in your heart to forgive me.

—Vinyl Scratch, Book of Shadows XLVIII
May 26, 1007








November 23, C.Y. 999
HMS King Bullion, Neighrobi Skyport


A doppelganger stared back at Vinyl, a creature that had her eyes and mane and colors, but otherwise didn’t seem real. She shifted her head one way; it followed. She took in the messy tangle of hair on its head, the roughness of its coat and the bags under its bloodshot eyes. At least the bandage wrapped around its head just below the horn was clean. That was something, wasn’t it?

She trudged out of the bathroom and into her suite on the King Bullion. After two days of trying, she knew there was no point going to the door. The guards would be there, as they always were. She made her way to the massive window and rested with her legs over the couch’s backrest, gazing upon the skyport and all its dullness. With a heavy sigh, she looked up to the clouds drifting overhead. One of them reminded her of a manticore.

Despair struck before she had a chance to fight back. Vinyl collapsed in a heap and wept for her uselessness. The fear and gut-wrenching anxiety refused to leave, but far worse was the understanding that she could do nothing. Her sisters were somewhere out there, and all she’d been able to do was sit here. What could possibly be more distressing?

Her ears perked to the sound of a cough. Rubbing her eyes furiously, she raised her head to investigate the sound. What she discovered was a mare sitting in one of the large chairs against the wall. The very first thing to run through Vinyl’s mind was that the pony was extremely attractive. Her grey coat was clean and shining beyond anything Vinyl could ever hope to achieve, and her dark mane fell off her shoulders in a way that could only be described as perfect. And then there were her eyes: magnificent mulberry pools that drew her into a soft, calm face.

Vinyl realized she was staring and promptly shook her head to clear it. “Who are you?” she grumbled. “How’d you get in here?”

“My name is Octavia, and they let me in.” The pony smiled, and the sight of it made Vinyl wish she were more presentable. “I wanted to speak with you.”

“Well, I’m not entertaining visitors right now.” Vinyl turned away, resting her chin on the backrest of her couch. “The guards already asked me enough. You part of their investigation?”

“I’m part of an investigation, but not directly aimed at you.”

“Hmm…” Vinyl considered the answer, trying to come up with possibilities. After a while she glanced back at her visitor. “The rebels?”

Octavia nodded with a pleased smile. “It’s my job to deal with them.”

“Your job?” Vinyl turned back to take a closer look at the pony. There was some muscle on her, certainly, but even so… “You don’t look like the military type. And what kind of name is ‘Octavia’ for a soldier?”

“I’m not in the military, Miss Scratch.” Octavia pressed a hoof to her chest. “I come from a… ‘special’ organization, the kind that is called upon to deal with Equestria’s bigger problems.”

“Yeah, like who?” Vinyl rolled her eyes. “The Archons, maybe?”

The quiet that followed was a blanket, settling upon her with more and more heft as the two gazed upon one another. Octavia didn’t flinch. She merely waited with an expectant smile that no longer matched her eyes. Vinyl waited for the punch line, but with every passing second her heart twisted a little more. Before she knew it, she was inching away.

The Archons killed your parents. Fear Celestia and stay away from Canterlot.

“Get out.”

Octavia remained motionless. Her smile faded to a thin line and her eyes hardened.

Vinyl pointed to the door. “I said out.”

“Do you want to get your sisters back?”

“Don’t think I don’t know what you did.” Vinyl sat up to her full height, her gaze piercing. “I’m not about to make a deal with a devil.”

Octavia studied her, expression unreadable. Vinyl wanted to lash out, but knew better than to try. Even if she could take on an Archon, she wasn’t about to have the entire organization coming for her afterwards. Perhaps now it was just a waiting game to see who would give up first.

At last, Octavia spoke. “Amethyst is in the hooves of the rebels. Trixie is putting her life in danger as we speak to find her. We can end this, and quickly, but we cannot guarantee anything without help, help that you can offer. It’s up to you, Vanilla von Scratchington.”

“Me?” Vinyl huffed and turned her face away. “What the buck am I supposed to do? The Royal Guard thinks I may have been in on the whole thing.”

“Because of your brief association with their accomplice, Cheeky Grin.” Octavia nodded, her expression as rigid as ever. “I can end the investigation immediately. You’ll be free, and you’ll be able to protect your sisters. All you have to do is agree with our plan.”

Vinyl had no more room to back away on the couch. She considered climbing over it, but nixed the idea as quickly as it had come. “How do I know you really are an Archon? How do I know you’re not leading me to something even more horrible than I’ve already experienced? How can I trust anything you say?”

“All good questions, none of which have good answers.” Octavia flicked her immaculate mane in a haughty way that had Vinyl grinding her teeth. “So allow me to respond with a question of my own: would you prefer to sit here and do nothing while your siblings are out there, risking their lives?”

The query stung far more than it probably should have. Vinyl bowed her head and resisted the urge to feel at her aching chest. She couldn’t know what Octavia was really after, but…

Nopony would ever offer something like this again. Vinyl couldn’t see the future, but she had a good idea of what was coming: months or even years of house arrest waiting for some bureaucratic entity to pick up her investigation and decide whether she’d aided the rebels or not, all while Trixie and Amethyst remained lost to her. Even if the investigation ended quickly, how long did her siblings have? Every day, a torment of not knowing, of wishing they were back, of dreading the letter saying they’d been killed… or worse.

She gazed upon Octavia, who continued to watch her with those pretty, unblinking eyes. What if she was with the Archons? Could she possibly agree to work with the monsters that killed Amethyst’s parents? She didn’t want anything to do with them and was reasonably certain this would end in tears. But again, nopony would ever make her an offer like this again.

A door had been opened. Though she couldn’t see what was on the other side, Vinyl knew her decision had been made.

“I want your word that they’ll be safe.”

Octavia said nothing at first, but her eyes shifted ever so subtly. Vinyl took it to be hesitation, which raised her hackles, but at last Octavia replied, “I give you my word, as well as this: the Archons don’t exist. We will work with you until the mission is complete and your family is safely home in Equestria. After that, you won’t hear from us again.”

Vinyl gave a firm nod. “I don’t want to be associated with you jerks longer than I have to, anyway.”

“Good, then let’s get started.” Octavia stood and walked for the door, her movements graceful enough to make Vinyl feel clumsy.

Vinyl followed, but doubts were already assaulting her mind. “What about the guards?”

Octavia pushed the door open. “What guards?”

Sure enough, as she stepped outside Vinyl found the hallway empty of soldiers. “How did you…” She turned to find Octavia already walking away. Biting her lip, she moved after her. She couldn’t help thinking that she would regret this decision.

For Amethyst and Trixie, it would be worth it.










November 24, C.Y. 999
Neighrobi Outskirts


Even in the shade of night, the heat bore down on Vinyl like an angry spirit. Sweat beaded on her brow and flanks, and the coat beneath her heavy saddlebags felt uncomfortably wet. Even so, she didn’t dare move from her spot, her eyes casting up and down the road on the southern edge of Neighrobi. To her left, the road was cobblestone; to her right, it faded into dirt. She was at the edge of civilization, where masonry and architecture stood side-by-side with trees and nature.

What bothered her most was that she’d been standing there for a long time. The moon was nearing its zenith and she had yet to meet anypony – or, more specifically, anyzebra – on the road that night. She kept glancing at the sky and wondering if her ‘contact’ would even show up.

The plan went through her head for the millionth time. A ransom offer struck her as cliché, but she seriously doubted a bunch of rebels were known for their brains. After all, they did pick a fight with the world’s most powerful military force. How smart could they be? Still, something about this didn’t feel right, and she could only hope that Octavia knew what she was doing.

Which begged the question of where that pony was. Despite orders not to, Vinyl couldn’t resist casting her gaze around for any sign of the supposed Archon. Octavia had said that there would be eyes on her at all times.

So why did she feel like she was all alone?

Grumbling, she sat and adjusted her saddlebags into a more comfortable position. The familiar clinking of bits met her ears, and she couldn’t resist a grimace. At least it wasn’t actually her bits; she couldn’t imagine hoofing over so much at once. Well, yes, she could – anything to get her sisters back – but the thought of how hard things would be for the foreseeable future in that instance had her stomach twisting. Then again, Trixie was well versed in that kind of lifestyle, wasn’t she? Perhaps she’d be taking the lead for a while under such circumstances.

Thinking about Trixie didn’t help matters, casting an unpleasant aura to Vinyl’s thoughts. The ponies in the Royal Guard had confirmed that Trixie had gone with them on the search and rescue missions. They’d tried to stop her, of course, but soon learned that telling the rambunctious teen “no” was like standing in front of a buffalo stampede. Worse, in the last day the only news she been getting from them was that there was no news. It was a far cry from the tidbits she’d been getting.

They were hiding something, Vinyl knew it. Perhaps Trixie had been captured. That, at least, was what Vinyl considered the best possible reason. She refused to think about the potential alternatives.

With a long sigh, Vinyl forced herself to her hooves and cast her gaze about once more. She wiped the sweat from her brow and cursed the heat. Impatient, constantly fidgeting, ever worrying, Vinyl forced herself to wait. Seconds ticked by like minutes, minutes like hours. She tried to think about something to pass the time, anything but her sisters. It proved a pointless endeavor.

Her ears perked to the sound of hoofsteps on the stone road. Her gaze shifted and she tensed as a figure approached in the dark. Her eyes had long ago adjusted, and it took no time to recognize the individual as he came near. Her horn sparked at the pure, unfiltered fury that came to her. “So you survived.”

Cheeky Grin sported a smile, but it was frail and uncertain. “Hey there, Vinyl. How are you?”

“ ‘How are you?’ ” She gritted her teeth and focused on calming herself. “Your heroes foalnapped my sister, and all you can say is ‘How are you?’ ”

“Yeah…” He rubbed the back of his neck and averted his gaze. “The circumstances are unfortunate. We did what we had to, okay? I’m sorry.”

“Sorry.” She flung her head back with a scowl. “Buck your apologies! Can’t believe I thought you were cool. I’ve got your warlord’s stupid bits, now where’s Amethyst?”

“He’s not a warlord, and they aren’t his bits.” Cheeky’s smile faded, all anxiousness and charisma gone in a heartbeat. “You’re the one who contacted us with the offer, remember? We’d love to know how you found a way to do that.”

“I wasn’t going to stop until I found one,” she replied coolly. “You took my sister.”

Cheeky sighed. “That’s hardly a satisfying answer. We don’t have time to be playing these games. Boys?”

Vinyl let out a weak cry as rough hooves caught her from behind. She considered fighting, but stopped herself when she realized that the two zebras who had snuck up on her appeared to be only rifling through her saddlebags. The temptation to blast either of them was strong, but she battered down her anger with a reminder that she needed them to get Amethyst back. If they did anything more than check her saddlebags, though…

Her horn sparked as she shot a glare at Cheeky. “Can’t wait to count the coin?”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” he replied with a dismissive wave of his hoof. “We just want to make sure there are no surprises in store for us. We’ve already determined that you’re not being watched.”

So Octavia had been lying about that; or perhaps her ponies were so good that the zebras failed to notice them? Vinyl didn’t know which idea disturbed her more.

At last the two zebras stepped away from her, both offering firm nods to Cheeky.

“Alright, you’re clean.” Cheeky coughed and averted his eyes once more. “I’m sorry, Vinyl, but we need to blindfold you.”

“What?” She stepped away from the closest zebra, who pulled out a grey rag. “Why?”

“So you can’t tell ponies where our base is, that’s why.” Cheeky rolled his eyes. “Seriously, isn’t it obvious?”

“And if I refuse?”

He leveled a grim expression her way. “Then we slip off into the shadows and you never see your sister again.”

She stomped and shook her head. “How can I trust you not to do something while I’m helpless?”

To her surprise, Cheeky burst out laughing. “S-seriously, Vinyl? What do you think we’re gonna do?”

“How the buck should I know?” She growled and pawed the ground in a threatening display. “You’re the criminals, not me.”

The laughter came to an abrupt stop. Vinyl noted the two zebras tensing. She kept her eyes on Cheeky, whose expression turned cold.

“We’re not criminals, Vinyl.”

“By the letter of the law, yes, you are.” Vinyl sniffed in derision. “Foalnapping, attacking unarmed soldiers – who still kicked your flanks – attempting to make said soldiers defect? What in Celestia’s burning sun made you think that would work?”

Cheeky sniffed right back. “When the letter of the law is determined by the criminals, the law itself becomes criminal.” He pointed to the rag still being held by one of the zebras. “Are you gonna do this, or should we leave you here?”

Vinyl considered her options, her gaze shifting from Cheeky to each of the zebras in turn. Her mind boiled with fury at the understanding that she had no choice. “Fine.” She jerked the rag from the zebra’s grasp via magic. “But I’m putting it on myself.”

The zebra moved to grab it, but he paused when Cheeky raised his hoof. Vinyl applied the rag to her head, not taking her eyes off Cheeky until it had effectively covered them, then tied it tight. As soon as her horn dimmed, she felt hooves studying the knot behind her head. A few seconds of silence passed.

“Alright then, let’s go.” Something nudged Vinyl’s shoulder, gradually spun her around, then guided her into a trot.

Time seemed to drag on forever. Vinyl’s mind ran in circles as she pondered what might happen next. She cursed Octavia regularly, for this hadn’t been part of the plan at all. If there wasn’t an Archon watching her every movement, she would kill that mare… assuming she survived this little exchange in the first place.

That was a sobering thought; how did she know the rebels wouldn’t just take the bits and kill her? How did she know the hostages weren’t already dead? And Amethyst…

“H-hey? What proof do I have that you’ll keep your end of the bargain?”

Cheeky sounded incredulous. “You’re just considering that possibility now? You’re really new to this kind of thing, aren’t you?”

She ground her teeth. “Forgive me if my life has been rather tame up until this point.”

“I didn’t think of you as being that naïve.”

Vinyl turned her head towards him, but doubted her glare was effective. She just had to hope it could burn through to him. He made no attempt to speak further despite her queries, leaving her to steep in her fears and doubts. For now.

They went on in silence for some time, and the path gradually went from flat to hilly. Walking while blind proved difficult, but her companions – escorts? Wardens? She couldn’t think of a proper military term – guided her along and kept her from falling. The two zebras finally spoke when it became clear that touch alone was an insufficient guiding method, and they were surprisingly polite.

This didn’t ease Vinyl’s suspicions at all.

At some point, Cheeky called for a halt. They had her remove the saddlebags, which made Vinyl suspect that they’d arrived, but the blindfold remained. She sat and listened to some grunting and huffing. “What are you doing?”

Cheeky’s voice arose from close by. “They’re burying the saddlebags.”

“What? Why?”

“We’ve still got a long way to go,” he replied solemnly. “It’ll be midday or so before we get to our destination, and all those bits have to be heavy.”

Mention of the weight reminded Vinyl of the slight ache in her backside, as well as the relief from the load. Labor like that was hardly in her repertoire of skills, and she took a moment to stretch out the kinks.

“So,” Cheeky continued, “we’re just gonna leave the bits here. It’ll make the entire journey go a lot smoother, and you won’t die of heatstroke.”

Vinyl bit back her thanks and tried to find something more abrasive to offer. “And when Tune Grief sees that I don’t have the ransom money?”

“You assume he even cares.”

Her head whipped towards the sound of his voice. “What? Those bits are the entire reason he agreed to see me. Why wouldn’t he care?”

Cheeky’s voice turned harsh. “Don’t act like you know everything about us. There’s a lot more to our cause than violence and bits.”

Vinyl rolled her eyes before realizing the pointlessness of the act. She tried to maintain a confident manner, but inside her mind was running away with itself. If the rebels didn’t want her for the bits, what did they want? A hundred horrible scenarios played out in her head, each worse than the last. More alarming was the possibility that any one of those things could be happening to Amethyst at that very moment.

Yet something else came to her, an idea that left her feeling alone and frightened: she was a pawn. Octavia had set her up for this, and she’d played along because there seemed no other choice. How much had Octavia known? Had she been aware that the rebels didn’t want her bits? What if Octavia wasn’t even an Archon, but part of the rebel organization? Or maybe she was an Archon, and this entire scheme was just a method of getting a bunch of bits stashed in some random location for them to take later and fund their evil activities?

Her imagination was going berserk, and Vinyl knew it. The temptation to conjure up more and more complex conspiracies tugged at her, leading her down new directions that were very unwelcome. Vinyl felt like a marionette, dancing to some tune she couldn’t fathom. Next to her fears for Amethyst, it had to be the worst feeling in the world.

The job was at last done and her captors – yes, that word seemed very appropriate now – pushed her along. They gave her a melon to eat as they continued.

It tasted like ash.









The first thing that told Vinyl they were approaching civilization was the shift in the ground from rough grass to a flat, sandy structure. Realizing she was on some kind of path, she perked her ears in search of new sounds. Voices were just reaching her, faint but growing steadily louder as she kept walking. She thanked the stars for this development; after countless hours walking beneath a burning sun with little water, she was about ready for some civilization.

Asking where they were seemed like a dumb move, so she kept her mouth shut and focused on the sounds all around her. She had anticipated some kind of reaction to her arrival, perhaps a hush to come over the area. Instead, the zebras – at least, she assumed they were zebras since they were all rhyming – didn’t seem to be paying her any mind at all. Maybe if she had the use of her eyes she’d find that assessment wrong.

She had long come to hate that blindfold. How many times had she banged her legs against random obstacles or nearly fell due to a sudden shift in ground height? She had a greater respect for the blind after this; she couldn’t imagine spending an entire life under such circumstances. Or rather, she could after the past several hours, but would rather not.

Vinyl turned her head in the general direction she hoped Cheeky was in. “Will it be okay to take this thing off soon?”

“Yeah, soon.” Cheeky patted her shoulder. “We’re practically there. Just gotta get to the boss.” The patting stopped when she hit him with as vicious a growl as she could muster. She imagined him jerking it back fearfully and barely resisted a satisfied, malicious smile.

A rhythmic sound reached her ears. It grew louder with each step, a steady clang, clang, clang. The noise reminded her of something, though she couldn’t put her hooftip on it. The volume increased, though it seemed muffled by something. A wall, perhaps?

There came the sound of a door’s squeaky hinges, and Vinyl felt herself the target of an unpleasant blast of sweltering heat. She hesitated at the sensation, for the sun on her back all day was bad enough, but hooves prodded her forward. Hoping she wasn’t about to be cooked for some unholy ritual – possibility number eighty-seven in her earlier mental ramblings – she allowed herself to be herded inside.

The heat was almost suffocating, and the clanging grew exponentially in volume. Not enough to hurt her ears, but more than enough to have her wincing with each retort. She heard the door close behind her… and then there was nothing. The heat remained, the clanging remained, but no instructions were offered. She waited, holding her breath and wondering if she hadn’t just been made a prisoner.

“Do not let your breath cease. Let your heart be at peace.”

Vinyl’s ears perked even as she followed the voice’s advice and released the air in her lungs. “Tune Grief.”

“That you recall my voice is a delight. Please, give yourself some sight.”

Vinyl ripped off the blindfold immediately, then winced against the red lighting of the area. Vision blurred, she shook her head and tried to focus. The rhythmic noise continued, and she could make out a figure standing on the other side of the room. There was the sound of blowing air, leading to the light intensifying for a moment. “Where am I?”

“At my place of employ,” Tune Grief answered politely. “It does bring me joy. Pleasure is something in great need after the failure of our recent deed.”

“Well, what did you expect to happen? You can’t just go up against…” Vinyl’s words died as her vision at last cleared. A wide variety of tools hung from the walls, such as hammers and tongs, and scattered throughout the large space was assorted equipment; a pile of horseshoes there, a few swords hanging in the corner, a massive battleaxe leaning against that wall. A trio of forges made one wall, but only one was lit, the fires within casting the area in a bright glow. To her left and side the walls were open to the outside, though they revealed only woods and no zebras were visible.

Vinyl turned her gaze back to Tune Grief, who was the source of the noise. His metal claw held a short piece of glowing metal, which he pounded regularly with a hammer fitted over his good hoof. Sparks flew with each hit, the metal gradually shifting into whatever form he was attempting to create.

“You’re a… blacksmith?”

Tune Grief’s eyes never left his work, but a small smile appeared on his lips. “Surprised?”

“Uh… yeah.” She sat and cast another look around, realizing she was alone with him. She didn’t know whether to be alarmed or comforted. “I kinda thought of you as some warlord.”

He chuckled, the sound barely audible over his hammering. “Warlords know only combat, and gain not what they work at. We are soldiers of peace seeking only a release.” He lifted his finished tool and quenched it in a bath, the water steaming noisily.

“Peace, huh?” Vinyl glowered and pointed to the bath. “And what’s that, then? An axe to cut Celestia’s head off?”

“Blacksmiths make more than just weapons, Miss Scratch.” He lifted the cooled metal from the water and displayed it to her. “There are more mundane needs we must match.”

Vinyl peered at the object, which he held close for her. It was a thin piece, broad and curved to form a scoop. The bottom side appeared flat and less curved, ending in a small round section with a hole in it. It certainly wasn’t an axe, but she knew she’d seen something like it before.

“Permit me to offer a clue.” Tune Grief stepped back and, freeing his hoof from the hammer, reached over to grab one of the short poles leaning against a nearby wall. He displayed both the metal and the pole to her at once. “Perhaps this will clear your view?”

She cocked her head, considering the two pieces. “A shovel. You’re making a shovel.” She blinked and shook her head. “That’s… anticlimactic.”

“If I disappoint, then accept my apology.” He returned the pole and set the shovel head upon a pile of them. He paused, eyes turning thoughtful. After a moment he turned back to her with a grin. “I trapped myself with my terminology.”

It took Vinyl a moment to understand his meaning. “Hey, you’re doing far better than I—” She shook her head forcefully. “Stop changing the subject! I came here for a reason.”

“That you did.” He sat, his smile not fading. “Further delay we should forbid. Yet I pray you will not balk should I take this chance to talk?

“I’m not here to hear you preach,” she growled. “You got your chance with the speech. Perhaps if you didn’t practice the futile you wouldn’t have to resort to the brutal.”

Tune Grief’s eyes widened. “That was good.”

“Then how ‘bout this?” Vinyl shook her hoof at him, blood boiling. “You killed my producer and friend! You foalnapped my baby sister. My other sister is out risking her life to find her. I don’t want any part of your bucking rebellion, I just want Amethyst back. So stop with the smooth talk already and give her to me so I can go home!”

They stared at one another, Tune Grief a calm giant and Vinyl a huffing ball of anger. She took a moment to wipe the sweat from her brow, mentally cursing how comfortable he appeared in the oppressive heat of the smithy. His manner had shifted to a focused, unpleasant frown, but Vinyl refused to be intimidated.

“I see you are prone to fits.” He sighed and shook his head. “We do not want your bits.”

“Don’t give me that crap,” she snarled. “My bits are the only reason you agreed to see me.”

“So quick are you to call us wrong,” he countered coolly, “yet you came to us with your song.”

“That was a crappy rhyme!” Vinyl stomped a few times. “Stop wasting my time!”

Tune Grief raised his hooves in a placating motion, though his expression remained cool. “Calm yourself, you shall have your foal. Abduction for ransom was never our goal.”

“Oh, really? Then why didn’t you just let her go once you were away?”

“At the time her freedom could not be set.” He waved to the woods outside the smithy. “A filly alone in these woods of threat? If you would but pause for reflection, you would see it was for her own protection. Her death we sought to forgo, and with you here she’s free to go.”

Vinyl peered at him, trying to find the lie. His expression remained unreadable. “What’s the catch?”

The zebra’s shoulders sagged slightly. “This is why you ponies need our help; one offers kindness and you yelp. There is no catch or test of wits. We’ll even let you keep your bits.”

Seconds ticked by as Vinyl considered this offer. It sounded so nice, almost generous. Too nice for her to believe. Her eyes drifted about the smithy for some clue as to what was really going on. “I don’t believe you. After that crap you pulled, you expect me to just take your word? Ponies are dead – Polished Prose, my friend, is dead!” She took a cautious step back from the giant of a zebra. “I’m not agreeing to anything until I know exactly what it is you’re setting me up for.”

“Goddess, but you are stubborn!” Tune Grief rubbed his eyes with both hooves. “I… We…” He fumbled with his lips and ground his teeth. After a few seconds he abandoned his attempted rhyme entirely. “Do you think we wanted a fight? We only sought to send a message!”

Although Vinyl felt a tinge of guilty pleasure at finally breaking his pattern, she also felt a moment of trepidation. After all, she’d just angered a stallion nearly twice her size and rippling with muscles, not to mention the small army of subordinates he undoubtedly had within shouting range. She took a cautious step back from him, gauging whether a run into the woods would be practical.

“The Guard gave us a bloody muzzle,” he admitted with a sigh, “It was worth the struggle. Now they know we can be anywhere, and their eyes will be everywhere. When one gazes at all their land entails, they miss the little details.”

Vinyl raised an eyebrow, still shuffling for the forest as subtly as she could. “So you are planning something.”

“Perhaps we are, perhaps not,” he replied, his tone gradually calming. He sidestepped, his long legs dwarfing her quiet movements. It was enough to make clear that he hadn’t missed her intention. “Either way, you are not part of our plot. Just take your foal and leave this…”

They both paused, ears perking to the sound of muffled shouts. Vinyl turned her gaze to the door, listening intently as the noise grew louder. “What’s going on out there?”

“Hmm…” Tune Grief’s eyes turned ominous. “Could it be that Cheeky failed? I fear you may have been tailed.”

The Archons. Vinyl didn’t know whether to feel overjoyed or horrified. “What about Amethyst?”

The door burst open, and Cheeky hurried inside. He slammed the door and pressed his back to it with wide eyes. He stood there for some time, breath coming in slow heaves. The shouting began to turn to screams.

Vinyl stepped forward. “What’s going on?”

Tune Grief was reaching for the axe on the wall. “Is it an attack? How many to hack?”

Cheeky’s eyes shifted to Tune Grief as if just realizing he was there. It took him a few tries to speak. “One.”

The zebra and unicorn shared an incredulous glance. “One?” Vinyl asked.

Tune Grief opened his mouth to snap, but paused when something unusual floated into the room over the screaming.




Cause I love to see you beam, beam, beam

Yes I do




An especially loud shriek pierced the air, followed by a bang that made the tools on the walls rattle. Cheeky dug his hooves into the ground, firming his pressure on the door.




Tell me what more can I say to make you see

That I do?




“Help me!”

Vinyl had no idea what that wet sound was just on the other wide of the wall, and she didn’t think she wanted to. She began backstepping for the forest, her wide eyes shifting to Tune Grief. The stallion had the axe in hoof now, his metal claw cutting grooves into the wooden handle and his lips pulled back in a snarl.

The door handle rattled, prompting Cheeky to whimper like a foal.

“___ ____ ____ ___ _____ ___ _____”

Vinyl’s head whipped around to Tune Grief, who was clutching at his throat with one hoof, his expression one of alarm and confusion.




It makes me happy when you beam, beam, beam…




A choking sound turned their attention back to Cheeky. His back remained pressed to the door, but his eyes now bulged and blood dribbled from his lips. Something pierced his barrel, and beneath her horror Vinyl registered total confusion: the ‘weapon’ was a word, complete with...

“fool!”




Yes it always makes my day!




The door exploded into the room in a spray of splinters, letters and pieces of pony. Vinyl raised her hooves in alarm just in time to deflect Cheeky’s detached lower foreleg, blood splattering across her face as she did. There was no time to react, to think, to even process what had happened. Something white and yellow darted into the room, smashing into Vinyl’s side and sending her flying against the wall.

Pain spread across her side as she fell to the ground. Playful laughter filled her ears, and when she finally looked up she could only gape: it was a pegasus. A white pegasus with a  blonde mane and tail, who hovered in the center of the smithy with a grin far too wide to be normal. She laughed manically, blood covering her legs and face. Tune Grief stood beneath her, waving his axe in preparation.

“What foul demon are you?” he shouted.

“The kind that likes to have fun! Hey, Vanilla.” The pony waved to Vinyl as if she were an old friend, leaving her dumbstruck.

“D-do I know you?”

Tune Grief jerked about, ready to swing. “You led this thing to us?!”

Vinyl shouted and pressed against the door, but before the zebra could slice her head from her shoulders the pegasus dropped down and caught the axe head, her hooves locking over the flat of the blade. She flapped her wings and released, making the zebra’s swing fly high. It came so close to its mark that Vinyl felt the wind on her ears.

As the zebra and pegasus turned on one another, Vinyl decided that she’d waited long enough. Amethyst was somewhere nearby, she had to be! She turned and ran for the open doorway, ignoring the shouts and commotion of the fight, only to step on something that rolled beneath her hoof. The motion tangled her hooves and sent her to the ground. She turned to see what tripped her up and almost immediately threw up.

It was Cheeky’s head.

Vinyl jumped back, only to shout as something extremely hot pressed against her back. She pulled forward and turned to find herself looking at the lit forge, its coals glowing and ominous. The heat radiated against her and prompted her to pull back—

“Look out!”

She turned just in time to see Tune Grief’s axe flying towards her in a rapid spin.

The world moved slowly. She could see the zebra falling backwards, his eyes wide with surprise as he followed his axe’s trajectory. The pegasus shared the same expression and was rushing through the air in an attempt to catch the loose weapon. Vinyl knew she’d not get to it in time, and that she couldn’t possibly dodge. The blade seemed to shimmer in the glow of the forge, sharp and hungry for her flesh. Vinyl did the only thing she could think of; she turned aside, raised her leg in an attempt to block, and prayed the blunt end would be what got her.

Pain erupted in her head. The force of the blow was so strong it toppled her sideways. She only had enough time to register the direction of her fall before her face landed in the red-hot coals.

Chaos. That was the best way to describe what Vinyl was feeling at that moment, because it was all a jumble of everything and nothing. There was no pain, but there was agony. There was no sound, but somepony was shrieking. There was no motion, but her body flailed.

How long was it before she realized that the screams were her own? It might have been seconds. It might have been days. Vinyl had been hurt before, but never had she felt such all-encompassing torture as what coursed through her head at that moment. She could think of nothing but the burning in her eyes and the desperate need to make it stop.

Something slapped against her face, cold and brutal and all the more painful. She realized she was on the ground, curled in a ball and clutching at her face. Somewhere over her own shrieks came a panicked voice.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry! You have a beautiful voice and I really like it but Octavia told me not to play with you and she’s going to be so mad and if she’s mad then Uncle Fine will be mad and I’m so so sorry! Please tell them it was an accident because I swear it wasn’t on purpose this time and I wasn’t trying to hear you sing even though you have a great voice for it and ohnotheGuard’scomingandthey’regonnafindyoulikethisohnoohnoohno!”

Vinyl reached for the voice. “H-help me! It hurts!”

“I can’t! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry! Oh, what am I gonna do? I’m supposed to be gone before they get here and and and oh I’m so sorry!” The pegasus’ voice began to fade with distance. “I’ll make it up to you later, cross my heart and hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye!”

“Wait!” Vinyl tried to stand, but only stumbled to the ground once more. Her world was completely black, and any attempt to clear her vision with her hooves resulted in crippling pain. She lay in a ball and sobbed, struggling to think past the searing fire over her face.

“S-s-somepony?” She raised her head. “Anyp-pony?” Only silence met her.

She lay there for some time, taking shallow gasps and trembling like a leaf. She felt so horribly alone. This was far worse than the rag she’d been wearing; this blindness felt more complete, more oppressive. She kept trying to open and close her eyes, but the darkness didn’t change. She eventually gave up, for even blinking seared a path of flame through her skull.

Her voice came out in a cracked whisper. “Am-methyst… I came here for Amethyst.”

Though any movement sent pulsing fire to her brain, Vinyl began to crawl across the floor. “Ammy… I’m coming. I’ll f-find you. I’m not giv-ving up…”

Every shift was a new torment. Vinyl knew she should lay still, but thoughts of her beloved Little Sparkler filled her head. She could almost hear the filly laughing to one of her pranks. It was such a beautiful sound.

“Ammy, please.” Her hoof touched something solid. “Talk t-to me…”

A wall. She found a wall. She crawled alongside it, sobbing from the pain. She began to feel lightheaded, but she pressed on.

“Somepony… S-save Ammy.”

She was so tired…

“Amethyst…”

Her head wobbled, then hit the floor. She wept as the impact sent a jolt through her brain. No matter how much she willed them, her legs wouldn’t drag her any farther.

“Little… Little Sparkler…”

The last thing she saw was the beaming gaze of a filly.

“I’m sorry.”
> Book II — Vinyl Scratch: Scars
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------




I’m an Archon now. No, more than that; I’m a member of the Order. It’s funny, when I really think about it. I don’t have Fine’s schemes, or Fleur’s beauty. I lack Caballeron’s experience, Gulfstream’s anger or Surprise’s ferocity. I can’t even touch Octavia; that mare puts all of us to shame, if she’d just realize it.

So what do I have that makes me worthy of this lofty position? Why do I get to make the big pony decisions? I know the answer. I can even say I like the answer. I always had the drive. It was a subconscious thing for most of my life; most ponies think I’m lazy, and I would agree.

But something happened to me. Neighrobi opened a door. In the weeks afterwards, I gradually became aware of just how fragile my happy little life was. My family had already taken a severe blow.

Somepony had to protect it.

—Vinyl Scratch, Book of Shadows XLVIII
May 27, 1007












November 26, C.Y. 999
HMS King Bullion


The first thing Vinyl became aware of was a constant burning that blanketed her face. It was more nuisance than issue, but the potential sources were a cause for concern. The resultant worry is what drove her from the recesses of half-sleep to the gradual knowledge of proper consciousness.

The second thing she realized was that she was in a bed. The world outside her soft sheets was cool, but no light came to her. She considered opening her eyes, but the thick layer of weariness over her mind made her hesitate.

“Vinyl?”

Her ears perked, the movement seeming strangely lethargic. She recognized the voice in spite of through the fog of her mind, and a tremble of elation coursed through her. “Trixie?”

“Yeah, it’s me.” As Vinyl sluggishly rolled to face the voice, Trixie’s gentle hoof touched her shoulder. “Welcome back to the land of the living.”

Vinyl tried to open her eyes, but only blackness met her. She reached up and felt the soft touch of gauze around her face. It reminded her of her last conscious moments, but she lacked the energy to grow properly excited. What might have been a demand came out as a whisper. “Where am I?”

“We’re on the King Bullion,” Trixie replied, her voice quiet. “We’re about a third of the way back to Equestria.”

“Oh.” Vinyl struggled to think. Why did she feel like her brain was pushing against a giant thought filter? “What about Ammy? Is she okay? Is she—”

Trixie shushed her. “She’s here. She’s sleeping at the foot of the bed. She came out of the camp, safe and sound.”

“Vinyl?”

A gasp burst from Vinyl’s throat at that sleepy voice. “Yes, Ammy, I’m here. Oh, thank the Goddess.” Her forelegs reached out, and once again she noted her slow movements.

After a few seconds, something small nuzzled her hoof. She grabbed Amethyst and pulled her close, legs shaking as a grin reached her lips. “I thought I’d lost you. I thought I’d lost both of you.”

“I’m okay, Vinyl. Really.” Amethyst let out a yawn. “The zebras were really nice to me. They gave me books to read.” She snuggled into Vinyl’s chest, a sensation that the unicorn absolutely loved.

“And all I did was a lot of walking with the Royal Guard,” Trixie grumbled. “Some help I was.”

Vinyl smiled in Trixie’s direction. “You tried, that’s what’s important. I don’t like that you went off like that, but I understand why you did. I’m just glad we all got out of it alright.”

An elongated silence passed over them. Vinyl felt the blanket of sleep threatening to take back over, but she resisted it as best she could. She reached up to touch the bandages around her head, examining them with the tip of her hoof. “Guess the rest of the tour’s canceled…”

Trixie huffed. “How can you think about work at a time like this?”

“I dunno,” Vinyl admitted. “My head’s all woozy.”

“Must be the medications.” Trixie hesitated before continuing. “The doctors gave you some pretty heavy stuff for the pain. They said it may take a good two weeks before it stops completely.”

“Oh… I see.” Vinyl stopped toying with the gauze and instead focused on holding Amethyst. By the steady breathing sounds, she imagined the filly had already fallen back to sleep. “Is she really okay, Trixie?”

“She’s just tired.” Again with the hesitation. “She was honest, Vinyl. The zebras didn’t hurt her at all, but I’m told that the state of the camp when they found her was… graphic. Nightmares are keeping her up again.”

The screams of the camp came back to Vinyl, ghost drifting through her head, and she shivered. “I can only imagine.” She silently cursed whoever that white pegasus was. What if Amethyst was traumatized for life? The poor foal had enough bad memories to deal with.

Things were quiet for a while, and Vinyl heard Trixie take a seat in what she presumed was a nearby chair. Her mind swam with images and thoughts, most disconnected and frivolous. They lulled her back into a sense of torpidity. After a time, one finally came to the surface that helped her wake back up a little. “Hey, Trix?”

It took a few seconds for Trixie to respond, and her voice was airy. Perhaps it had been longer than Vinyl had thought? “Yeah?”

“Did they say when I can take the bandages off? Not being able to see bites.”

Trixie said nothing.

Slowly, Vinyl turned her head to where she thought her sister was sitting. “Trix?”

“A week, maybe a day or two longer. B-but… Vinyl…”

“Yes?” Vinyl wanted to sit up, but recalled the foal still snug on her chest. “What’s wrong? You’re starting to worry me.”

“Your eyes, they…”

“What’s wrong? Trixie, talk to me.”

Another long, terrible moment of silence left Vinyl feeling cold inside.

“They’re burned out. I mean, not literally, you still have eyes, but the f-fire…” The fear in Trixie’s voice was palpable, and it clutched at Vinyl’s heart like a steel talon. “The doctors tried their best. Really. There was n-nothing they could do.”

Vinyl stared at the blackness. It almost seemed to stare back; mocking, ominous.

“Are you saying I’m… I’m…”

A pair of hooves clutched hers. “I’m sorry, Vinyl. I’m so sorry.”

Trixie wept. It was a quiet sound, but in the silence of Vinyl’s mind it seemed to rattle inside her brain. She gazed at the black; fear and loss and confusion mixed to leave her numb. She remembered the experience when she’d been blindfolded. Now she faced a far more powerful blackness, an impenetrable dark that gripped her soul with the chill of a Grypha winter.

This was her future. She wanted to scream. Instead, she just lay there, taking in her new world.

Trixie cried enough for the both of them.










November 29, C.Y. 999
HMS King Bullion


It was Amethyst’s rhythmic breathing that clued Vinyl in to her awareness. The second thing was the motion of the airship and rising sensation in her stomach, indicating that the King Bullion was dropping altitude. She shifted, but moved as carefully as she could so as not to wake Amethyst. Having been bedridden since their departure and with no way to determine the time of day, Vinyl’s sleeping habits had grown unpredictable at best. It might be mid-afternoon or midnight and she wouldn’t know the difference in the air conditioned room.

But Amethyst was tucked under her leg, and by the sound of her she was fast asleep. Vinyl would have to assume that meant it was night. If Trixie was in the room, there was no indication of it.

She remained there for a while, mind blank as she listened to the distant hum of the ship’s engines. Thinking was something she actively avoided lately, because it always led to the same questions of uncertainty. So much of her life was doomed to change and she didn’t have the first clue how to address any of it. To think of it as daunting was understating the situation considerably.

Amethyst was safe. Trixie was safe. That made this worth it. Vinyl told herself that until she believed it.

The trepidation wouldn’t fade, though. Was her career over? Could she learn to make music without her eyes? Perhaps. What disturbed her more was the thought of the record company assigning her a new producer. They would, of course… but then, that made Polished Prose feel like a mere item to be replaced once it had worn out.

She could still see him lying with his wife in a pool of their own blood. It made her stomach twist every time. Polished wasn’t some tool to be replaced, but that’s what would happen. The suits would talk about how they were sad for his loss and offer their condolences, but then they’d turn right around and ask about her recovery time. She understood the corporate sellouts. She prayed they would at least give her a week after landing to recover. Even a few days would be nice.

Which was more than the press would give her. She’d already been informed that reporters were lining up at the Baltimare skyport, jostling to be the first to get their hooves on an interview.

Such sickening thoughts. Vinyl did her best to push them out. Better her mind stay numb while it could still afford to be.

Thirst gnawed at her. She licked her dry lips.

Her ears perked to the sound of water running in the kitchen sink. She considering calling out to Trixie, but then thought about Amethyst and stilled her tongue. She shifted her head as hoofsteps approached. They paused by the bed, and a straw tapped against her lips. Smiling appreciatively, Vinyl sucked down the water.

“Thanks, Trixie,” she whispered once she’d finished. “What time is it?”

It was some time before a response came.

“Late. Or early, depending on your viewpoint.”

Vinyl froze; that was not Trixie. “Who are you?”

“I wish I could say a friend,” the male voice replied with a sigh, “but I don’t think you’d accept me as such.”

The glass landed on the nearby end table, and Vinyl heard her visitor sit in the chair next to the bed. Her mouth opened to call for Trixie, but she held back; whoever this was, he’d be able to whatever he wanted before Trixie could get in the room. “Answer the question.”

This time the response came easily. “My name is Verity Fine Crime.”

A sharp breath entered Vinyl’s lungs. She knew very little about politics and didn’t pay any attention to the government, but even she knew that name. Heart pounding, she whispered, “W-what do you want with us?”

“Nothing.” His words were quiet, even hesitant. “When I read the reports about the Neighrobi mission, I decided to come as soon as your ship approached Baltimare.”

Vinyl opened her mouth to ask how he’d even arrived on the airship, but closed it with a loud click of teeth; more important things needed to be discussed. She considered her words carefully, well aware that saying the wrong thing to this particular Archon would likely result in her permanent disappearance. “I did as Octavia asked. We p-played our part. Just leave us alone.”

“I would like nothing better,” he replied. “I know you probably won’t accept this, but I came to apologize. It was Octavia’s very first command mission, and she botched it. I take full responsibility for what happened to you, your friends and family.”

At first, Vinyl only gazed towards his voice in a dumbfounded stupor. Then a fire ignited within and she barely resisted a snarl. Her sense of self-preservation vanished. “That’s it? After all the crap we went through, you think you can just apologize to me?”

His voice was firm. “No, I don’t. So in addition to the apology, I want to do something for you.”

She pointed to the bandages around her face. “You think you can make up for this? For Polished Prose?” She waited for an answer that didn’t come. “I just want to go back to a normal life, but I can’t do that now, can I?”

“You think I am unaware?” Fine’s voice had grown harsh, a veritable growl. “Terrible things happen all over the world, Miss Scratchington, and the Archons aren’t perfect. The only difference between us making a mistake and you is that you don’t have to live with the lost lives of innocents when you inevitably screw up.”

Vinyl glared as best she could under the circumstances. She neglected to mention her sincere doubt that the Archons cared a wit about innocent lives.

Fine spoke again before she had a chance to consider her reply. “You are either extremely lucky to have come out with only the loss of your vision, or horribly unfortunate that you came out of the events alive to see what the next great Equestrian horror story will be. I promise you, there is more to come.”

Vinyl raised her head, anger and fear stirring within her. “W-what do you mean, more? What else is my family going to go through?”

“I couldn’t say,” he answered, his tone growing soft once more. “If you’re truly fortunate, then bad luck has had its way with you and will focus its attention elsewhere. But, given what I know, I find that unlikely.”

“What do you know?” Vinyl leaned up a little more, knowing she risked waking Amethyst with her movement. “Please, tell me.”

Fine kept quiet for some time, and Vinyl feared he wouldn’t answer at all.

“Vinyl,” he said at last, “I do wish I could tell you more, but I don’t have the luxury.”

“But—”

“Please, don’t press me. I can’t offer you what you want. Instead, I offer you a favor. Anything you’d like. If it is within the Archons’ power, then I will see it done. This is not something I offer often, or lightly, but yours is a special circumstance.”

Hesitation kept Vinyl from snapping at him. She took her time, pondering the situation and his offer. The very idea of taking something from the bastard left her sick to her stomach, but…

“If I accept this… will you leave us alone? For good?”

“That might not be in your best interest,” he said, “but if that is what you want.”

She chewed her lip, wondering if it was worth the trouble. Asking something from the Archons felt almost like making a deal with Tirek. Then again, by working with Octavia, hadn’t she already formed the pact? Was this any worse just because he was the leader? Maybe she was already doomed by association.

“I…” She cringed. “I want…”

“Vinyl?”

She paused. “A-Ammy. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“It’s okay. Do you need anything? Water or… or…” The filly sucked in a sharp breath.

Vinyl reached up to touch Amethyst’s shoulder. “Ammy?”

The shriek was so piercingly loud that Vinyl nearly jumped out of the bed. Before she could comprehend what was happening, Amethyst was clutching her throat and sobbing wildly between screams. “Ammy! What the buck is—”

“Don’t let him kill me!”

Vinyl’s jaw dropped even as she held the trembling filly close. “What? Did you have another nightma—”

“He’s the mud pony!” Amethyst screamed. “He was th-there! I’ll be a good pony, I promise, just don’t b-burn me!”

“Amethyst, please,” Fine said, his voice placating. “I would never—”

“Liar!” Amethyst buried her head in Vinyl’s shoulder. “I don’t wanna burn like Daddy!”

By this point, the pieces of the puzzle had connected in Vinyl’s head. A mud pony, she’d said.

Some muddy stallion took me away while Daddy… D-Daddy burned.

“Get out.”

“Vinyl, I—”

“Get out! Get the buck away from my family! Out, out, out, out, out!”

Trixie’s voice rose over Amethyst’s screams. “What’s going on in here?!”

Vinyl didn’t reply, instead glaring as best she could at the spot where Fine’s voice had been. She rubbed Amethyst’s back and took in her sobs. “Get out, you bastard, and if I ever find out you came near us again—”

“Vinyl?” A hoof touched her shoulder. Worry laced Trixie's tone. “Who are you talking to? Why was Ammy screaming?”

The tension faded and Vinyl released a breath she’d not known she’d been holding. She sat up slowly, with Trixie’s help, and rocked back and forth. “It’s okay, Ammy. He’s gone. He won’t hurt you. I promise.”

But Amethyst didn’t seem to hear her. She only wept and repeated the same line over and over again.

“I’ll be good, please don’t kill me. I’ll be good, please don’t kill me. I’ll be good…”










December 1, C.Y. 999
Hoofington


Vinyl stumbled on the step, but Trixie was there to keep her on her hooves. There was a quiet pause as Vinyl took a moment to rebalance, then she gradually moved forward. Cool grass was replaced by hard floor that clopped pleasantly under her hooves. The house was warm, though a cool breeze rushed at her back.

She tried her best to recall what the hall looked like. The walls, the pictures, the furniture. It seemed so vivid in her mind’s eye, but when she turned to enter the living room her shoulder bumped a wall. Something dropped to the floor, and she heard the faint sound of magic as whatever it was rose back up.

“I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be,” Trixie whispered, guiding her around the corner. “Ammy, help her to the couch while I get the air conditioning going.”

“Okay.” Amethyst sounded tired, but she put a hoof to Vinyl’s shoulder and guided her forward. Again, Vinyl struggled to picture the world around her; Amethyst’s little couch, Trixie’s favorite rug, the rarely-used fireplace. That image shattered the moment she walked farther to reach her couch than she’d envisioned. Her legs shook.

“Here we are.” Amethyst manually raised Vinyl’s left hoof to touch the couch.

Vinyl said nothing, but slowly climbed on. Her head hung low as she realized she was too far to the right from where she’d planned. She thought about moving over to her preferred spot, but couldn’t work up the energy to try.

A cool breeze ruffled her mane.

“There.” Trixie’s hoofsteps approached. “That’s better. How do you feel, Vinyl?”

Like an invalid.

“I’m… okay.” Her voice had to have given her away. She turned her head towards Trixie, but the pony said nothing. Vinyl wished she could still see faces. She’d never known how important they were for gauging reactions.

She so desperately wanted to see Trixie’s face.

“That’s good,” Trixie answered at last. “I think we all should just take a break for the next few days. I’ll go out later to get some groceries.”

“Okay.” Vinyl sighed and laid down properly.

The couch was blue. She knew it was blue. It was her favorite couch, and it was just the right shade. She tried to imagine its vivid color, but whatever she thought of seemed dull in comparison. She rested a hoof before her face, then tried to imagine the blue against her white coat. The colors in her mind… were they accurate? Was she way off? How could she have forgotten that color so easily?

Because she’d never paid attention. She’d become so accustomed to the couch and its colors that she’d stopped giving them any thought. It was blue, and it was a blue she liked, but she couldn’t remember the exact shade. Was it darker than her mane? She thought so… but then, what shade was her mane?

Had she really forgotten her own hair color?

Her distress must have shown. Something moved on the couch, and she felt a small body pressing against her side. Amethyst nuzzled Vinyl’s foreleg, and she obediently raised it only to lower it over the filly. Amethyst snuggled against her shoulder, and Vinyl pulled her in close.

Purple.

Amethyst was supposed to be purple.

Why did her colors seem so faded?

“Vinyl?”

“I’m alright,” Vinyl whispered through her tears. “I am. I’m o-okay…”

Trixie whispered soothing nothings into her ear. Soon she was on the couch too, holding Vinyl and Amethyst in a tight hug. They barely fit on the furniture, but Vinyl couldn’t care less.

Trixie was supposed to be blue, too.

Vinyl let out a small sob. “I’m s-sorry I can’t remember. I want to remember so badly…”

“It’s okay, Vinyl,” Trixie whispered.

Amethyst nodded against her chest. “We’re here. We’ll help.”

Vinyl could only weep, but even as she did she acknowledged the one bright light she had in this darkness:

Her sisters were there, and she loved them.










December 10, C.Y. 999
Hoofington


“Alright,” Trixie said once Vinyl was comfortably seated, “let me just turn it on.”

“No.” Vinyl waved her off. “Don’t. I need to figure it out for myself.”

She could almost feel Trixie’s hesitation. “Are you sure? I can at least guide your hoof.”

Vinyl ran her hoof along the synthesizer, anxiety and familiarity coursing through her. She attempted to instill confidence in her voice. “I’ve been working Synthia for a long time. I know this machine. I just need to practice, that’s all.” She reached for the corner of the device, feeling for the start switch. She wrinkled her muzzle when the first thing she found was a knob.

“Back a little farther,” Trixie offered.

Following the instructions, Vinyl found the familiar switch and flicked it. Sitting straight once more, she sucked in a slow breath and touched one of the keys. A high D-flat met her ears, crisp and beautiful. She immediately followed the chord up the keyboard, taking in the wondrous sound.

For the first time since Neighrobi, she smiled.

“I can do this.” She reached for a C key, winced when she hit an A. Another try hit the mark, and her confidence swelled. “I’m not out of the game yet. Being blind doesn’t mean I can’t create.”

“I’m sure you’ll do great,” Trixie said, and the pride was clear in her voice. “That’s my big sister; nothing gets in your way for long.”

“It’s gonna take me a while to get the hang of playing by hoof and ear.” Vinyl started experimenting with the knobs. She pressed a few more keys and got some new sounds, then categorized in her mind exactly what knobs she’d manipulated to get that particular effect. “I should probably start looking into Braylle, see if they have symbols for sheet music.”

She experimented a little more, enjoying the assorted tones from her keyboard, before Trixie finally spoke up. “Wow. Had I known this was all it would take to get your spirits up, I’d have sat you in front of Synthia the day we got back.”

“It wouldn’t have mattered,” Vinyl mused. “I needed to come back when I was ready to. You can’t force this kind of thing.”

“I guess that’s true,” Trixie admitted. “You need anything? Food, water?”

“I’ll take a back massage and a few dozen truffles.”

Vinyl could almost see Trixie’s deadpan look. “Well, I see your humor’s coming back.”

“It is…” Vinyl paused, gazing towards her synthesizer. That familiar, heavy feeling in her chest was back. “There are so many things I took for granted, Trixie. Light, color, texture, even something as mundane as shapes. But this? This is something that I can hold on to, that I can work with. I can see the music, play with it, meld it. This is what I have left, and I intend to make the most of it.”

She could hear Trixie shuffling from her spot nearby. “I get it, Vinyl. You need this. I’m not gonna question it.”

Not knowing why, Vinyl relaxed at those words. “Sorry, Trix. It's just… new perspective, y’know? I don’t know how to deal with this yet, but I think this is a step in the right direction.”

“Me too.” Trixie’s hoof touched her shoulder. “I’ll help you out, Vinyl.”

Vinyl turned to her, worry settling in. “I… uh… I thought you planned on leaving after the tour. Y’know, to test out your new experience?”

Trixie was quiet for some time, but her shuffling hooves seemed strangely loud. “I was going to do that, yeah. I wanted to practice my act again and travel like I did before.” She sucked in a sharp breath, and Vinyl could imagine the determination in her eyes. “You still need somepony to help you, at least until you figure out how to take care of yourself without eyes. Amethyst’s nightmares have been getting worse since… since whatever happened on the King Bullion. You need me here, Vinyl. I’m not going anywhere until I’m satisfied that’s not the case.”

A smile might have formed on Vinyl’s face if not for the unpleasant reminder of her family’s poor state. “I appreciate that, Trixie. Really, I do, but… We all have dreams. I know I’ve talked about you going off on your own before in a bad way, but that was before I thought you were responsible enough. I don’t want your dreams to fade away because you’re too busy taking care of us.”

“Fade?” Trixie huffed a laugh. “The dreams of the Great and Powerful Trixie never fade, they only grow brighter! You and Ammy will pull through this in time, and then Trixie will be free to do as she wills.”

Now Vinyl did smile, and it was genuine. “I’m sure that she’ll shine like a star.”

Trixie’s chuckle was sheepish. “Sh-she is too, but I have to stay, at least for now. After everything you risked to protect us, leaving now would make me the poster foal of selfishness. I wasn’t able to do anything for you two, so…”

“You did what you could at the time.” Vinyl kept her voice soothing. She reached forward, and after a moment she felt Trixie’s cheek press against her hoof. She pulled the pony close. “What you did is no less noteworthy. Don’t punish yourself just because you came out of Neighrobi unscathed.”

“I shouldn’t have left,” Trixie mumbled. “You needed me to be there, and I… I went galloping off to pretend to be a hero. Goddess, what’s wrong with me?”

“Nothing. There’s nothing wrong with you.” Vinyl rubbed the shivering pony’s back, feeling strangely calm compared to how she’d felt over the past week. “I wouldn’t even say you made a mistake, Trix. I mean, at least you didn’t go trusting some mysterious organization to protect you while walking right into hostile territory. If anypony was stupid, it was me. At least you had enough brains to work with a reliable organization like the Royal Guard.”

“Yeah, really reliable,” Trixie huffed. “They were out on wild goose chases. They didn’t even know where to look until some anonymous tipster pointed them to that little backwater town they found you in.”

Vinyl’s ears perked. “Anonymous tipster?”

“You didn’t know?” Trixie pulled back, though she kept her hooves on Vinyl’s shoulders. “Somepony dropped a letter off at the base with directions. They even told us you and Ammy were there.”

There was no doubt in Vinyl’s mind where the tip originated from. Had that been Octavia’s plan all along? Vinyl realized that she may have been little more than bait. If she ever met that pony again…

“Vinyl?”

“Sorry, just thinking.” She sighed and offered a weak smile. “So, you’re sure you want to stay? I won’t blame you if you decided to follow that dream of yours.”

“I’m sure.” Trixie’s tone was rock solid. “Like you said, I came out of Neighrobi unscathed. That puts the brunt of taking care of this family on me, at least until you get back on your hooves.”

Vinyl smirked. “Oh, so you’re the big sister, now? Think you can wear the big horseshoes?”

With a laugh, Trixie countered, “Filling in your horseshoes? Easy! I dunno the last time you checked, but Trixie’s getting a leg up on you in the size department.”

“I told you to stop eating so many cookies, didn’t I?” Vinyl’s crack was rewarded with a light hit on the shoulder, though it didn’t do a thing to her grin. “Hey, it’s not my fault you’ve got the appetite of a parasprite.”

“Yeah, yeah, everypony’s a comedian. If you’re done insulting Trixie’s fine flank, she’s gonna go check on Ammy.”

Vinyl sobered, her head turning to follow Trixie’s hoofsteps. “How’s she doing? I know she’s not telling me everything.”

The hoofsteps ceased, but Trixie didn’t immediately answer. When she did, her voice was quiet. “Ammy’s… okay. I think. She’s been busy studying like a good girl.”

“But the nightmares are getting worse.”

Trixie’s response was a little too swift. “Not worse, no. They just won’t go away. Even when I share the bed with her, she still…” More hoofsteps told Vinyl that Trixie was turning to face her. “What happened on the King Bullion, Vinyl? What scared her so much?”

Memories of Fine Crime’s visit haunted the back of Vinyl’s mind, as they had ever since that unfortunate evening. She considered telling Trixie the truth, but this was the one thing that they’d kept from her. Amethyst had entrusted Vinyl and Vinyl alone with the reality of her nightmares, and though it hurt to keep Trixie out…

It was something that Amethyst herself would have to tell Trixie, in her own time.

“All I can say for sure is that something reminded Ammy of her past.” Vinyl turned back to her keyboard. She had to hide the guilt in her face. “Maybe it was something that happened in that town that triggered it, I don’t know. She got over it once, surely she’ll do it again?”

“I hope you’re right,” Trixie replied. “I can’t stand seeing her like that.”

Trixie left, and Vinyl sat in silence for some time. She thought about what she knew of Amethyst’s past and repressed a shiver.

But Amethyst was strong. Vinyl knew it, she’d seen it. The filly would recover, she had to.

Praying she wasn’t belittling a much bigger problem, she tried to focus on her work. She couldn’t sit idle forever. Work would take her mind off things. They all had to move on at some point.

Better to get started now.










January 2, C.Y. 1000
Hoofington


The screams didn’t wake Vinyl, for she’d been waiting for them. They weighed on her heart, links to a chain growing longer and heavier by the day. Feeling no need to hurry, she rolled off her bed and made her way to the door. A month of darkness had trained her well, and she passed into the hallway without incident.

The shrieks grew louder as she walked along the second floor hallway, counting her steps. After the eighth one she stopped, ears flat against her skull as the sound reverberated through the wood.

“I don’t wanna burn! Don’t let me burn, please! He’s coming, coming to burn me!”

Vinyl had no tears to offer, no words of comfort. It would do Amethyst no good, not at this stage. She merely sat and waited, taking in the cries until, at long last, they faded into sobs. Vinyl could almost set a watch to the timing, were she able to see the hands. She didn’t have to press her ear to the door to know that Trixie was carefully rocking the filly back to sleep. It would take time.

She turned for the stairs, legs moving with practiced precision, and entered the kitchen. She went straight to the sink and turned it on, then grabbed some glasses. She had learned how to use her magic to pick things up without sight, provided she touch them first, but still hadn’t gotten the hang of levitating objects when she couldn’t tell what obstacles were in the way. A half-dozen shattered glasses had been enough to teach her to stick to using her hooves for now.

Two glasses of water filled, she set them on the table and sat in her chair. Her head remained bowed, her thoughts drifting to the past month. It hadn't been pleasant, but she didn’t stop her line of thinking. She knew what had to be done… even if she dreaded the consequences of it.

“Oh. Hey, Vinyl.”

Vinyl’s didn’t look up as Trixie entered the kitchen. “You sound exhausted. You have for a while now.”

“You’re no sunflower, yourself.” A rustling sound indicated that Trixie had settled across from her at the table. “She’s doing better. It’s two in the morning. Normally she’d have had three of them by now.”

The words didn’t comfort. “She’s not getting better,” Vinyl said. There was no question in her tone, for there was no doubt in her mind.

Trixie took a moment to reply. “No, she’s not. She’s too exhausted to do anything, she barely eats… I don’t know what to do. It’s like the fear has become entrenched in her very soul.”

They were quiet for a time. The familiar tick-tock of the wall clock echoed in Vinyl’s head. She never realized how soothing that sound was until recently. Now, when the weight of her problems wore her down, sometimes she'd just sit and listen, and let the steady certainty of time smooth out the wrinkles of her brain.

It didn’t help this night.

“So,” Trixie said, her words forced, “when do you go back on tour?”

“I dunno. The record company’s been uncharacteristically lenient about that.”

“Oh. I see.”

The conversation petered out before it really began, and once again they sat in silence. Every now and then, Trixie would shift audibly in her cushion, and Vinyl knew she was looking at the ceiling. It annoyed Vinyl, but she said nothing. It wasn’t like she could blame her for worrying.

“This situation can’t continue.”

Trixie’s response came quick. “Oh, and here I was thinking the night terrors were a good thing. Silly me.” Then, after a pause, “Sorry, I’m sorry. That just came out.”

“It’s alright, Trix,” Vinyl said with a weak smile. “We’re all on edge these days.”

There as a quiet clunk, presumably of Trixie setting her glass down. “You sounded pretty confident. Do you have an idea for Ammy?” The hope in her tone was impossible to miss.

“Yeah.” Vinyl bowed her head once more, steadying her nerves. “I don’t know if it will work. I don’t even know if it’s worth trying. The risks are huge, but… but I can’t think of anything else.”

“So what are we going to do?” Trixie asked. “Bring her to a shrink? I doubt that’ll do her any good.”

Vinyl sucked down a long breath. “No, nothing like that. There’s an… acquaintance. He might be able to help, he might not, but he owes me a big favor. He might know somepony that can do something.”

Doubt laced Trixie’s voice. “That sounds far-fetched. Who is this pony?”

“I’d rather not say.” Vinyl chewed her lip and turned her face away. “He’s a total bastard. I wouldn’t go to him unless I had no other choice, but with Ammy being as she is…”

“I get it.” Trixie’s tone was soothing. “It’s worth a try, right? When do we leave?”

Vinyl shook her head. “We don’t. You and Ammy will stay here. She can’t travel in her condition, and one of us has to stay behind to look after her. I have to do this on my own.”

If Trixie intended to argue, she gave no indication of it that Vinyl could detect. “Alright, I’ll look after her. Are you sure you’re up for a trip?”

“Being blind doesn’t keep me from travelling, Trix.”

“I know… I just worry about you too,” Trixie said dejectedly. “So where is this mystery stallion?”

“Canterlot.” Vinyl spat the name as if it were poison.

“That’s not too far, at least.”

“It’s not far enough,” Vinyl whispered. There was no way to know if Trixie heard it.

Another scream pierced the ceiling, making Vinyl wince. Trixie’s hoofsteps traced an image in her mind; out of the kitchen, up the stairs and into the bedroom. If Vinyl heard the clock right, she’d travelled the distance in less than three seconds. She listened to the screams until they faded away. Trixie didn’t come back down.

Vinyl took in the quiet tick-tock of the clock, desperate to have it sooth away her fears.

Not tonight.
> Book II — Vinyl Scratch: The Antidote
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------




It’s not uncommon to hear ponies going on about taking things for granted. Well, I guess I’m living proof that they know what they’re talking about. I fell into a rhythm of sorts, and thought it would go on forever. How ironic, to think that I had to become blind to recognize the claws looming over us. Who would have thought that something so wonderful could be snuffed out like a light?

I have one thing left in my life. I will protect it with all my soul. If that means I have to become the bad guy, then so be it.

I won’t take her for granted.

—Vinyl Scratch, Book of Shadows XLVIII
May 27, 1007












January 9, C.Y. 1000
Canterlot


The fact that Vinyl wasn’t completely lost was a matter of pride for her. The fact that she had no idea where to go next? Not so much.

She sat in the grass, knowing she was in the front courtyard of Canterlot Castle. Her next task, obviously, was getting into the castle itself. It should have been simple; just follow the throng of ponies down the path. Unfortunately, it turned out the path broke into three different directions, and it took her a lot of wasted time to realize it.

Vinyl wasn’t accustomed to traveling alone. Walking to a set destination in a city she never visited before was a far cry from exploring Hoofington with Trixie and Amethyst there to guide her along. Why had she told them to stay behind, again?

She cringed at the memory of Amethyst’s violent reaction to Fine Crime and the miserable, bone-tired sound of the filly at the train station. “That’s why, you foal,” she muttered under her breath.

Fortunately, the last few months of experience had taught Vinyl the fine art of listening. It had been her only tool for this journey, and she’d spent the entire day sitting at street corners and listening to ponies talk in order to get her directions. Though the method proved slow, it usually worked fine.

Unfortunately, these three paths were close enough in direction that Vinyl couldn’t sort them out. She ground her teeth, taking in the chatter of frustrated nobles, guards leaving for home or coming in for a shift, and tourists gawking at the scenery. The sounds all seemed to be coming from the same direction, which frustrated her to no end. She took a moment to adjust her new sunglasses, knowing that asking directions would be pointless unless she could somehow catch an on-duty guard, but those jerks never spoke.

“Stay sere long enough, and ponies vill sink you are part of se décor.”

Vinyl gave as quiet a yelp as she could manage before jerking about to face the source of the feminine voice. “Don’t sneak up on ponies like that!”

The stranger offered a flighty giggle. “My apologies, Miss Scratchington. I tend to forget how quiet I can be.”

Her ears folded back. “How did you know my name?”

“I vas at your concert in New Horseleans… four years ago, I believe? It vas your first tour.”

“Oh, right.” Just a fan, then. Or so Vinyl thought, but then she took in what she’d just heard along with the soft Grypha accent. “Why would a griffon be in New Horseleans?”

Vinyl had never heard such pristine laughter in her life, a sound not unlike the ringing of bells. “Oh, Miss Scratch, I am a pony! Fleur de Lis, pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“Fleur…” Vinyl scratched an ear as she thought on that name. “Wait, aren’t you a fashion model?”

“Vy, yes! I am surprised you know of me. I beg your pardon, but you do not strike me as a mare vis an interest in fashion.”

“Don’t look at me, I just hear things.” Vinyl winced. “Eh, that sounded like a bad joke. Look, Miss de Lis—”

“Fleur, if you please.”

Even without sight, Vinyl could still appreciate a good eye roll. She dearly hoped this mare didn’t intend to make friends. “Fleur, I’m sorry, but I can’t talk right now. I’ve got something very important to do in the palace.”

“Yes, I am avare.” A hoof touched Vinyl’s shoulder, turning her away from the path. “You’ll vant to go sis vay, it is faster.”

“Hey!” She pulled back from Fleur’s touch and scowled. “I haven’t even told you where I’m going.”

“To meet a certain stallion.”

Vinyl froze, her eyebrows rising. A thought pressed into her head, but there was no way. This mare, a fashion icon, couldn’t possibly be…

There was no more playfulness in Fleur’s voice. “He offered you a favor, did he not?”

Vinyl’s hind legs gave out. She gaped, feeling at once both shock and horror. “You’re… you’re one of them?”

Fleur was silent. 

Surely nothing would happen to Vinyl here, not in front of all those ponies. She tensed as she felt something move close; a silken mane brushed against the side of her face.

“I am somesing else altogeser.”

The whisper sent a shiver down Vinyl’s spine. It took all her willpower not to leap away.

As soon as it began, the sense of closeness faded. “If you vould let me, I can guide you to him.” Fleur’s voice had switched to that pleasant tone, not a hint of the ominous left to be found.

Vinyl didn’t bother to consider the proposition. She knew this day was going to end the same way regardless. Her anxiety kept her from speaking beyond a mumble, and she gave only a weak nod. A twitch overcame Vinyl at the touch of Fleur’s hoof to her back, but she let the mare guide her further away from the path.

The movements in her legs were stiff. Vinyl had to wonder how much Fleur knew about her. Was her family being watched even now? Was she going to walk into a room and find Amethyst and Trixie waiting for her? How long had the Archons known she was in Canterlot? A thousand more questions crashed through her head, tormenting her with visions of doom far beyond anything Tune Grief’s rebels had inspired. When she felt her hooves land upon hard stone instead of grass and heard a door close behind her, she couldn’t help imagining that she was in some cobweb-ridden hallway awash in shadow.

“You’re so stiff. Relax, Miss Scratchington.”

“I will relax,” Vinyl hissed through her teeth, “when I get out of this place alive and whole. Not a moment sooner.”

Fleur sighed, frustration evident in her tone. “You speak as if you are a prisoner. Se Archons have no reason to cause you or your family harm.”

“Then why have you been watching us?” Vinyl turned her head, hoping her glare was appropriately aimed.

“You are a… umm…” Her guide mumbled something in griffon. “A ‘special case.’ I’m afraid my boss vill have to be se one to provide more details.”

Vinyl frowned as she considered the answer. “A special case? Because of what happened in Neighrobi?”

“I am afraid not.” Fleur guided Vinyl into a turn. “Be mindful of se stairs.”

Begrudgingly grateful for the warning, Vinyl slowed down until she felt the first step underhoof. Fleur made no attempt to hurry her. After a few paces, Vinyl realized they were climbing a circular staircase. Her confidence rose with her gradual mastery of the steps. “Come to think of it, what was an Archon doing at one of my concerts? Have you guys been watching me that long?”

“I am afraid I can offer no commentary on sat particular subject,” Fleur remarked. “And it vas never specifically you ve vere vatching.”

Vinyl’s heart leapt into her throat and she missed a step, nearly falling face-first on the stairs. “W-what are you saying?”

“Oh dear, I’ve said too much.” Though Vinyl recoiled from her touch once more, Fleur helped her regain her balance. “Forgive me, I really should be letting Fine tell you sis.”

A whole new world of terrible possibilities swam through Vinyl’s head. She hated being blind, for it meant there could be no visual distractions from the horrors of her mind. She wanted to look at something, anything to keep her fears in the recesses of her imagination. “Who are you really watching? Trixie? Amethyst? Why?”

“I am sorry. It’s not my place to say.” Fleur’s tone grew softer. Vinyl wasn’t buying it.

The climb seemed to last forever, and Fleur made no attempt at small talk. Vinyl was left with her thoughts, which inevitably painted her surroundings as being some decrepit, forgotten tower of the castle that nopony ever visited for rumors of curses and ghosts. She’d never thought herself too imaginative, but there she was, wondering when she’d come across the Wendigos that were rumored to be kept as pets by Celestia. She’d never believed such wild tales, but now, in the silence and the eerie echo of their hoofsteps, she could almost feel something icy nipping at her fetlocks.

At last they reached the top step, then passed through another doorway into a hall. Realizing that she had not just been in a tower, Vinyl finally decided to do something about her anxieties. “Hey, what is this place?”

“I don’t understand,” Fleur answered slowly. “It is Canterlot castle. You knew sis.”

“Right.” Vinyl mentally kicked herself for asking the question in such a poor way. “But, like, what does this place look like?”

It was a few seconds before Fleur answered, and there was an anxious quality to her words. “The valls and floor are marble. Mostly vite, vis subtle shades of pink every now and sen. Sere are vindows to your left, vith some grand views of Canterlot. Sis part of se castle isn’t visited by many citizens, so ve are mostly alone save for a guard or two.”

So, not a cold, dark, brooding place of hard rock and spooky décor?

Vinyl broke out in laughter upon realizing just how dumb her little fantasy had grown. Why had she ever let such imagery into her head? Cobwebs and shadows! What did she think this was, some b-list horror novel?

“Umm, are you okay?”

“Y-yeah, I’m good.” Vinyl grinned and shook her head. “Sorry, it’s just that I had some really stupid ideas about this place and I feel just as stupid for believing them. I can’t believe I was thinking of Canterlot Castle as scary.”

Silence was her only answer, and after a time she felt Fleur’s guiding hoof on her back once more. They walked on through the halls, their echoing hoofsteps the only sound.

“It is.”

Vinyl’s ears flicked. “Pardon?”

“It is scary.” Fleur released a shuddering breath.

“In some vays, Canterlot Castle is one of se scariest places in se vorld.”









“At ease, boys.” Fleur’s tone was playful, evoking none of the fear she’d demonstrated before. In fact, there were very few times Fleur didn’t seem perfectly happy.

As usual, Vinyl was not put at ease by this. She’d queried the unlikely Archon about her little slip, but Fleur had offered no other hints as to the nature of Canterlot Castle. To her frustration, this forced her to go back to her wild fears, in which she’d been stuck ever since.

And now they stood before the lair of the demon: Fine’s office. Fleur hadn’t said it, but somehow Vinyl knew they had arrived. She stood stock still, ears perked and breath coming in slow gasps. She had to not let her imagination run away with her. She had to go in there and face him. Fine was only a pony. He wasn’t going to kill her, or play mind games, or demand she give up her soul in exchange for Amethyst’s sanity.

She hoped.

“Vinyl?”

“A minute.” She bowed her head and worked to steady her breathing. “Just… just give me a minute.”

Was it a minute? It seemed like longer. Fleur didn’t press her, for which she was grateful.

At last feeling… marginally confident, Vinyl trudged forward. The door closed softly, but the sound still made her wince. She’d done it. She was here, for better or for worse, and there was truly no going back. The idea left her stomach in tangles.

“He’ll be in his office at sis hour. Come.”

Vinyl allowed herself to be guided along, devoting her attention to rebuilding her courage. She had to face Fine with firmness, or at least a good façade. Oh, but if only she had her eyes! Being able to look determined was nothing compared to matching a pony glare-for-glare. Still, Vinyl would work with what she had.

What she had was emotion: a whole day of frustration at trying to find this place; weeks of anger building up as she listened to Amethyst’s steady decline; years of suspicion and bitterness at the filly’s constant nightmares. All because of one pony.

Vinyl had plenty of negative emotions to level at Fine, and right now she tapped into all of them.

A knock caught her attention. “Fine? You have a visitor.”

“In a moment, Little Miss.”

Ears perked as Vinyl recognized Fine’s voice. She tensed, her frustration building at the thought of having to wait.

“Who is… oh. Oh my.”

A new voice. A voice Vinyl was very familiar with.

A voice that knocked all of her anger to a single point.

“You!”

Vinyl surged forward, only to bang into an object that rose to her chest. She snarled and attempted to climb over, but something caught her tail and pulled her back. “This is your fault, you haughty, arrogant, evil witch!”

“Um… Hey there, Vinyl.” Octavia’s voice was strangely quiet compared to Vinyl’s shouts.

“Don’t you ‘hey, Vinyl’ me!” Vinyl knocked her glasses off, revealing the scars and blank, unseeing eyes. “Look at this. Look at what you did to me! You said we’d be safe, that somepony would be watching out for me. Your bucking pony used an axe to shove my face in a fire!”

“I didn’t mean to—”

“Octavia, leave.”

“But—”

“No buts. Just go. You too, Fleur.”

Vinyl snarled and lunged again. The vice-like grip on her tail remained steadfast. “Don’t you walk away from me! You are going to Tartarus, do you hear me? Tartarus!” She turned to follow the hoofsteps, constantly straining against her own tail. “Talk to me, damn you! What did I ever bucking do to you?!”

The door closed in her face, but not before faint sobs reached her ears. “What, you’re going to cry now? Boo-hoo-hoo! Why don’t you spend the rest of your life blind? Then you might actually have something to cry about!”

“That’s enough, Vinyl.”

“And you!” She turned to glare in the direction of Fine’s frustratingly calm voice. “Why the buck are you so interested in my family, huh? We haven’t done anything wrong. We just wanted to live normal lives. Everything was going wonderfully until your ponies showed up! Why the buck do we deserve to be targeted by you?!”

She stood in place, legs splayed and breath coming in deep heaves. She wished she could see him just so she could properly hit him with her most vicious look possible. And maybe a few beams to boot. The fire within her was like an inferno now, and she wouldn’t be satisfied until somepony burned.

“Are you done?”

“No, I am not.” Vinyl stomped forward, barely noticing that her tail was no longer pinned. “I want answers. I want to know what’s going on!” She bumped into the object again, presumably a desk. She pressed against it and stretched her neck forward, hoping he was right there for her to glare at. “The Archons owe my family, and I am here to collect.”

Quiet filled the office. Vinyl continued to huff as her simmering anger kept her on edge. She wouldn’t let this bastard treat her family like trash anymore. She was prepared for anything; an attack, a laugh, a refusal, anything.

Or so she thought.

“Alright.”

The fire snuffed out instantly. “…alright?”

“What do you want? Name it.”

Vinyl stared at the blackness for some time, lips slightly parted in a dazed expression. “You… Really?” The faint hum of magic reached her ears, and she was carefully pushed back into a sitting position.

Fine’s voice was a lesson in patience. “I told you on the airship, Vinyl; you get a favor from the Archons. How could you forget? Isn’t that why you came all this way?”

“Well… yeah.” She shook her head forcefully and regained her glare. “But I’m not accepting anything until I know it’s safe! And I still want answers.”

There came the sound of papers being shuffled on the desk, then some faint scribbling. “Fair enough, but be aware that I can’t tell you everything. We are a clandestine organization, after all.”

“I don’t care about the Archons,” she hissed. “I care about my family. Now, why are you ponies watching us?”

He sighed heavily. “Classified.”

“Classified?” She stomped both hooves. “What the buck could possibly be classified about it? It’s not like we’re scheming with the Gallopeans to take down Celestia! We’re just a normal family, trying to live normal lives!”

“You indeed have a normal family, despite the odds against you. You should be proud of that.”

“I was, until you guys stepped in.” She rubbed a fetlock across her eyes. “This is getting us nowhere. How about why you made Amethyst remember her parents’ deaths?”

A pause. Vinyl lowered her hoof, her ears swiveling towards Fine. She could hear him shifting. Her breath caught as she realized that he might actually answer, and she couldn’t help leaning forward in anticipation.

“That’s my fault,” he said at last. “I wanted to make sure she avoided Celestia, Canterlot and the Archons at all costs, so I gave her a potion to ensure she never forgot.”

Vinyl released the breath she’d been holding. “So it’s true. She said a mud pony forced her to drink something. It really happened.”

“A mud pony?” Fine chuckled. “I suppose my coat does fit that description.”

Vinyl leaned closer, her eagerness for answers negating all her anger. “So… the nightmares are intentional? Why?”

“Oh?” Uncertainty laced his voice. “She still has nightmares? I was sure she’d grow out of them by the age of, say, three.”

Vinyl gaped. “Three? Fine, she’s always had the nightmares! Did it not occur to you that you might be scarring her for her entire life?” She realized her own words and huffed. “Then again, you probably don’t care.”

“Of course I care!” Fine’s hoof banged the desk, making her wince. “Contrary to what you might think of me, I am not some cold-hearted monster. Making Amethyst remember may have scarred her for life but, after what I did to her parents, I wanted to make bucking sure she would live the rest of her life in peace. Away from here. If that means giving her the occasional nightmare, so be it.”

“Occasional?” Vinyl snarled and took a step closer. “Do you have any idea what she’s going through right now? You’ve broken her! You broke my Little Sparkler!”

“Broke her?” Now he sounded incredulous. 

“Yes, broke her!” She reared up to stomp both hooves on his desk. Her volume grew with every word. “Ever since we met on the King Bullion. She wakes us up every night with her screams. She begs us to save her from being burned like her father! She hasn’t had a good night sleep since we got home! My precious little filly is going insane, and it’s all your fault!”

Yet again, she was reduced to a heaving mess of rage. It would be nothing for her to leap over that desk and start pounding, and to Tartarus with the consequences! Yet somehow she held back. She waited.

“I… I didn’t mean…” Hoofsteps alerted her to his pacing. “That wasn’t supposed to happen. It wasn’t supposed to be that strong. I was trying to help her!”

A growl rose unbidden from Vinyl’s throat. “Fix it. Fix it right now.”

Fine gave a shout of frustration. “Now I understand, Celestia. You really are a heartless b… b-b…” He strained with the word for a moment. “B… b-b-b… bitch! Goddess, I hate that she did that to me.”

Vinyl’s brow furrowed. Slowly, she pulled back from the desk and sat. “Did you just call Celestia a bitch?”

“I’ve called her worse,” he grumbled. “So is that your request? You want Amethyst to forget?”

“No, I came all the way over here for a night in Celestia’s bed.” Vinyl threw up her hooves. “Yes, that’s what I want! What else could it possibly be? And you better be able to do it, Fine, or so help me I am going to tear you to pieces.”

Fine was quiet for a moment. When he next spoke, his tone was subdued. “I want you to understand something, Vinyl: I want to help you. I’m pretty sure I can. But the catch will be… Well, I honestly don’t know. I can tell you that you may regret it for the rest of your life.”

“Catch?” Another growl from Vinyl. “You promised me a favor. No catches.”

“I promised a favor from the Archons,” he corrected in a bitter tone. “This goes beyond our purview. You see, shortly after I gave Amethyst that memory potion, Celestia had all access to the antidote restricted to herself. To get that antidote, we need to ask Celestia’s favor. There is no question that she planned for exactly this moment.”

Vinyl huffed and turned around. “Then I talk to Celestia. Got it. Just point me in the right direction.” Hoofsteps galloped around the room, and Fine caught her by the shoulders. “Let me go!”

“Listen.” The force behind his words held her attention. “Celestia’s going to demand something from you in return for this. It is going to be terrible. You need to really think about whether you want to do this.”

“It’s for Amethyst.” Vinyl leveled a firm frown his direction. “I will do whatever it takes. I’m not going to doom her to an asylum because I got cold hooves. Now get out of my way.”

Fine didn’t move at first. Vinyl ignited her horn.

Then he heaved a sigh. “Alright, Vinyl, but I’m going with you. You’re going to want a witness, and I might be able to lessen the blow.”

She shoved him aside and groped for the door handle. “I don’t need your help.”

Her sunglasses slipped back onto her face. “Yes, you do. You just don’t know it yet.”









Vinyl groaned from her couch. “How long is she going to make us wait?”

“She is Celestia,” Fine remarked with disinterest. “You can’t expect her to stop the day court for any pony who walks through the door.”

Vinyl shot a scowl in the direction of his voice. “It’s been… I don’t know. Hours? Doesn’t she ever take a break?”

“It’s been an hour-and-a-half, and if she was gonna take a break, I guarantee she wouldn’t come here to do so.”

“But this is important!” She sat up and stretched. “You did tell her this was important, right? Doesn’t she care about her ponies?”

Fine’s response was a growl. “Your complete ignorance on that matter is the only reason I don’t burst your bubble. She’ll get here when she gets here.”

“Yeah? And when the buck will that be, next year?”

“How about right now?”

The hair on the back of Vinyl’s neck rose and she hurriedly jumped down from the couch. “P-Princess! It’s an honor.” She gave a hasty and clumsy bow.

A door closed. Celestia’s hoofsteps were light compared to Fine’s, and it sounded as though the princess was approaching Vinyl directly. For the first time, Vinyl realized that she had no idea how to speak to royalty. Was there something she was supposed to say? Her ignorance shot a wad of anxiety into her gut.

Celestia’s voice was light and friendly, and curiously pleasant on the ears. “Your politeness is nice, considering your reason for coming here. Rise, Miss Scratchington; let me take a look at you.”

Vinyl obeyed, trying her best not to fidget. The soft sound of magic met her ears, and her glasses floated from her face. She could only blush and keep her jaw clenched as the cool metal of Celestia’s regalia touched her cheek, forcing her head this way and that. Celestia released her, and Vinyl heaved a deep sigh.

“I should thank you,” Celestia said. “Your sacrifice made the annihilation of the Neighrobi rebels a simple matter. Mr. Fine Crime informs me that you had a request, to be granted as promised for your losses. Is this true?”

“It is—”

“I was talking to Vinyl, Fine. Be a good boy and sit in the corner there while we have some girl talk.”

Vinyl balked; Celestia spoke to Fine as if he were dirt. It wasn’t at all the kind of tone she would imagine the princess having.

“Now then. Miss Scratchington, what is it that you would ask of me?”

There was the faint sound of magic once more, but Vinyl couldn’t tell what the princess was doing. She swallowed the lump in her throat and hoped she was looking Celestia in the face. “Your Mane Archon gave my sister a memory potion. I have come to ask for the antidote.”

“Hmm…” A low chuckle came from the princess. It was an portentous sound, the likes of which should never have come from the Princess of the Sun. “The nightmares have finally grown worse, haven’t they?”

Vinyl gasped. “You mean you knew? But how—”

“Fine used that memory potion prematurely,” Celestia said, and there was no attempt to hide her mirth. “That was your first mission as the Mane Archon, wasn’t it, Fine? You were so traumatized, it’s no wonder you weren’t thinking clearly enough to check the fine print.”

“B-but, if you knew…” Vinyl took a step forward, confusion and worry stirring within her. “Why did you just let it happen? Why not give Amethyst the cure right away?”

“You really have to ask?” Celestia laughed once more. “That little abomination is the spawn of two races. As far as I’m concerned, she’s not even equine. Knowing that she would squirm later sounded delightful! And since I knew Fine would try to correct his mistake as soon as he found out about it, I of course had to make sure he couldn’t do that without coming to me first.”

Vinyl recoiled. Now, for the first time, Vinyl had to face reality and ask the big question: what was Celestia? History called her the source of all good things, but with her experiences with the Archons… and now this?

The next words came out as if of their own accord. “Y-you can’t think like that. You’re Celestia!”

Celestia’s tone went from playful to threatening in a heartbeat. “That’s Princess Celestia to you. See that you recall it, or you’ll never get the antidote.”

“But… b-but…” That wretched feeling in her gut threatened to make her heave. “You can’t… She’s only a filly. She can’t help who her parents were.”

“Oh-ho, you silly pony.” Celestia giggled. “You seem to think I care. How delightfully naïve.”

“Stop it!” Vinyl stomped, and the first tear formed in her eyes. “I get it, okay? You don’t have to pour salt in the wound. J-just… What do I have to do to get that antidote?”

“Why, not a thing.” There was a trio of thunks in rapid succession. “I’ll offer it freely.”

Vinyl perked her ears to the sound, then gradually reached a hoof out. Before she could touch whatever had been placed before her, however, something pushed her leg back. “But you said—”

“Not so hasty, Miss Scratchington,” Celestia said playfully. “I have yet to explain the rules.”

“Rules? What rules?”

“My rules.” Celestia’s little laugh was starting to get on Vinyl’s nerves. “There are three potions before you. You will take two. The yellow one is the antidote.”

Vinyl cocked her head with a frown. “And how the hay am I supposed to know which one is the yellow one?”

“It doesn’t matter. Fine will be taking that one.”

“What?” Vinyl grimaced and shook her head. “I’m not liking this.”

Again with that frustrating chuckle! “You’re getting it! So, Fine will take the antidote and keep it hidden. He will accompany you back to Hoofington, and you will take the remaining two potions. One of them provides a boon; the other, a curse with no cure.”

That sinking feeling came back to Vinyl’s stomach. “S-so… which one’s which?”

She waited for an answer. And waited. She could almost see the smirk on Celestia’s face. “You’re not going to tell me.”

“Neither will Fine.” Celestia’s tone suggested she was speaking directly to the Mane Archon. “Nor will he make any attempt to find out for himself.”

Vinyl’s breathing became shallow. Her pulse increased. “W-what do you want me to do with them?”

“Is it not obvious? You and your 'sister,' Trixie, will drink one potion apiece.”

“How do you know about…” Vinyl shook her head. “Wait, but why? Why should we drink these?”

“Because Fine won’t give you the antidote until you do.”

Another lump in the throat. Another slow swallow. Vinyl turned her head to the side. “F-Fine, you wouldn’t do this… would you?”

There was a moment’s quiet. “I’m sorry, Vinyl,” he whispered. “I don’t have a choice.”

“But you do!” Vinyl turned her head back to Celestia, her legs trembling. “You don’t have to obey this… this creature.”

Celestia laughed, a much louder and more forceful laugh than she’d offered before. “That’s where you are wrong, my little pony! He is magically bound to me. If I told him to jump off the highest tower of the castle, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from doing it. And just to make things even more entertaining… Fine?”

Another brief pause.

“Vanilla and Trixie have one hour from the moment she gets home to drink the potions. If they do not, you are going to kill Amethyst and Trixie.”

The air burst from Vinyl’s lungs. She tried to form some sort of plea, but nothing came out.

“Furthermore, you will temporarily incapacitate Vinyl, then go to the orphanage where she met Amethyst. Once you’ve ensured all the children and their caretakers are trapped inside, you will burn it to the ground.”

“N-no…” Vinyl slowly shook her head, mind reeling. “Y-you… They have nothing to do with this.”

“Is that understood, Fine?”

Vinyl turned her head once more, silently pleading to the Mane Archon. Her breathing sped up; it took her a moment to realize she was hyperventilating.

Loathing filled Fine’s voice. “You are determined to find creative new reasons for me to hate you, aren’t you?”

“Is that understood?”

“It is.”

“Good.” The pleasure in Celestia’s words was like torrid oil seeping into Vinyl’s ears. “So you see, Miss Scratchington, you have a choice; either save little Amethyst while risking yourself and Trixie, or watch as every pony you ever cared about dies. Seems like an easy decision to make, don’t you agree?”

Vinyl fell to her knees and sobbed. She could just see all the images in the books, the stories of the great Celestia and her fight against evil. And now, here Vinyl was, facing something that truly defined vile. She wanted to scream, but couldn’t manage it.

“Please,” she whispered, “don’t do this. We’ve done nothing wrong. P-please.”

Celestia’s words grew cold. “You still seem stuck on the concept that I might actually care. You should be grateful that I’m willing to even let you have the antidote, you feeble, blind wretch. I should let that bastard child rot in her own misery.”

Cheeks moist, Vinyl lowered her head to the floor in a placating position. “Please, Princess. H-have mercy.”

“Mercy. You hear that, Fine? She wants mercy.” Celestia gave a disdainful huff. “For Goddess’s sake, I’m only cursing one member of her family, and the other gets a boon! She should be thanking me, and instead she acts as if I’m torturing her.”

“I’ll do anything.” Vinyl shuffled forward on her knees, not daring to raise her head. The shame she felt for her words was nothing compared to the desperate desire to escape the position she’d found herself in. “What do you want me to do? Beg? I’ll beg. Please!”

She was rewarded with a hoof stomping on her head. She barely suppressed a shout of pain as the metal ground against her skull. “I would love to hear that. Really, I would. I’m afraid I don’t have the time. You run along home, my little pony, and be sure to give Amethyst my regards.”

The pressure left Vinyl’s head. She trembled, anger and loss and fear bubbling up within her. She thought of Amethyst, of Trixie, of Dry Eyes and the foals at the orphanage. With every fresh face, her fury grew. Her hooves shook, her throat was dry, her heart battered her ribs. All sense of self-preservation and hope faded as the hoofsteps grew fainter.

“You…” She forced herself to her hooves. “You cold, heartless, manipulative… evil bitch!”

Vinyl sprinted. Her horn vibrated with magic. A scream burst from her lips. The desire to rip Celestia apart eroded all logic. She fired a beam, and another, and another! “Come back here, you ugly—”

She plowed face-first into the door before she even recognized the sound of it shutting. She collapsed in a heap on the floor and learned firsthoof that even blind ponies could see stars. With a pained moan, she covered her pounding head and shivered on the floor. “C-come back. I… I’m not… done with you…”

Yet all the energy had left her. The mare broke into sobs as she realized that there could be no escape, no relief, and no solution. She never should have come to Canterlot, but she had, and now her family would suffer for it. There was nothing left but to pray it would be her how was cursed.

Time passed. The pain faded to a dull throb and her weeping ceased. Vinyl just lay there, mind empty and heart heavy.

Hoofsteps reached her ears.

“Are you okay?”

She didn’t bother to answer.

“Yeah, stupid question, I know.” Fine shuffled in place, his small movements loud in her ears. “I warned you that this wouldn’t end well.”

She took a long, slow breath. “Can’t you at least tell me which potion is cursed? I’ll take it.”

“I don’t know which one is,” he confessed, voice quiet. “And even if I did, I am magically bound to her command. I wouldn’t be able to tell you. I’m sorry, Vinyl.”

“Are you?” She buried her head in her hooves. “How am I supposed to believe that?”

Fine heaved a long sigh. “I know you won’t believe me when I say this, but you got off easy. If you’d seen the things I have, if you knew what she is really capable of…” He gave an audible shudder. “I would give my life to see hers taken.”

Vinyl raised her head from the floor to look in the direction of his voice. Her own was pleading. “What can I do?” When he didn’t answer, she slowly pushed herself into a sitting position. “Fine, what can I do?”

The longer the silence lasted, the worse she felt. She wanted to cry and scream and die all at once. She raised a leg and leaned forward. “Please, tell me.”

His hoof touched her shoulder.

“Go home.”










January 12, C.Y. 1000
Hoofington


Fine had claimed he would disappear before they reached Vinyl’s place. She hadn’t taken it seriously, much less literally. Now she stood on the sidewalk before her home, alone and feeling ill. Her left forehoof stood atop a distinct groove in the concrete, one she’d come to use as a landmark in her blindness. In a few short steps, she’d be at her front door.

It was the last place she wanted to be.

She turned her head one way, then another. A carriage rolled past. She could hear the foals two doors down playing a game of tag. From somewhere in the distance came the music of a saxophone. All the familiar noises of home, welcoming her back. It was almost enough to make her cry.

A cool breeze rustled her mane. The hairs snuck between her glasses and her face, tickling the ridge of her muzzle. She waited to see how long she could resist the urge to brush it back. Anything to distract from the twin weights in her saddlebags.

A door opened, and she sucked in a sharp breath. Her legs tensed, her neck pulled back, her ears folded. She could just barely make out the hoofsteps in the grass. They stopped right before her, and she could feel the gaze.

“You’re back.”

Vinyl’s heart snapped in two at the worn quality of Trixie’s voice. “I’m home.”

A long, anxious pause. Then Trixie was at her side, guiding her forward. They said nothing as they proceeded together. Across the yard, on the doorstep, into the house. The door closed with a quiet click. Trixie led her into the kitchen, and though she knew the way by heart Vinyl allowed herself to be herded onto her cushion at the table. Trixie didn’t move away, instead leaning heavily on her.

Seconds passed. Vinyl didn’t dare speak. Speaking would force them to begin. The familiar tick-tock of the clock reached her ears. An hour. She had an hour.

At last, Trixie broke the quiet. “Did you find anything at all?” Her voice was so… ‘heavy.’ Like she had trouble pulling it out of her throat.

Vinyl turned her head in her direction. “Have you been sleeping at all since I left?”

“A little, here and there.” Trixie took a long, slow breath. “Ammy’s bedridden. There’s no telling when she’ll…” She swallowed. “Tell me you found something.”

“I…” Vinyl closed her mouth, opened it again. It would be better to get it over with quickly, wouldn’t it? “I found something. It’s a double-edged sword, though.”

Trixie heaved a shaking sigh. “Oh, thank Celestia.”

Though subdued by defeat, the familiar fire sparked in Vinyl’s heart. “No. Don’t thank her. Never, ever thank her, Trixie.”

“Vinyl?” Trixie nuzzled her cheek. “What’s wrong?”

With a heaving sigh, Vinyl wrapped a hoof around her sister’s shoulder. “I learned some things. What I’m about to tell you is unpleasant, Trix. We don’t have a lot of time, but you need to know what we’re getting into. Just… promise me you won’t tell Ammy, okay?”

Upon securing that promise, Vinyl proceeded to tell Trixie all that had happened. She left no detail out, from her meeting Fleur de Lis to Celestia’s terrible arrangement. Trixie’s reactions were predictable; curiosity towards Fleur, anger at Octavia, outright animosity towards Fine Crime and Celestia. By the time it was done, Vinyl had set the two bottles down on the table before them.

And now the room was quiet once more.

After a few quiet ticks from the clock, Trixie asked, “And where’s Fine?”

“I don’t know.” Vinyl perked her ears, half expecting Fine to answer the question out of the blue. “He said he would be watching, and would come with the antidote when the time was right. I have no idea how he’s supposed to know that.”

“He couldn’t have just come in and waited?”

Vinyl bowed her head, thinking about what little she’d gleaned from the Mane Archon in the past three days. “I think he’s afraid of seeing Amethyst again. He feels pretty guilty about that.”

“Bull.” Trixie huffed. “I doubt that bastard is even capable of remorse.”

Yet Vinyl wasn’t so sure. Perhaps Fine had been merely saying what she wanted to hear, but in the few times she’d stomached him enough to have a conversation she’d come to think that he wasn’t as horrible as she’d originally believed. His hatred for Celestia certainly sounded legitimate to her ears. Still, she thought as she noted the ever-ticking clock, there was no time to debate the matter.

Trixie’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “So… one of these is cursed, and the other is blessed?”

Vinyl nodded. “And there’s no way to know which is which until after the fact.”

“I see.” There came the sound of the bottles sliding over the table, then then pop of a cork. “Guess I’ll take this one.”

“What?” Vinyl turned to her. “Just like that? Don’t you want to think about it?”

“What’s there to think about?”

Vinyl fidgeted in place and bit her lip. “Y-you could be cursed.”

“Or blessed,” Trixie countered impatiently. “Or I could not take it and end up dead anyway. I’m a proud pony, Vinyl, but even I know that standing up to the Archons is suicide.”

“But this is going to change our lives.” Vinyl bowed her head once more. “Shouldn’t we… I don’t know, have some system for figuring it out?”

Thunk. “Too late.”

“Trixie!” Vinyl grabbed her sister and shook her. “Did you already drink it?!”

“We’re going to do this one way or another.” Trixie gently pushed Vinyl’s hooves away. “Amethyst needs that antidote, Vinyl. There’s no point in prolonging the inevitable.”

Vinyl sagged, all the energy leaving her in a single, feeble wave. “But I hoped to find a way to get the cursed one.”

“Like you said, there’s no time.” The remaining bottle scraped across the table towards Vinyl. “Just drink. We don’t know how fast these things will kick in, and we want to be able to give Ammy the antidote. Come on, Vinyl.”

The cork popped out. Vinyl looked towards the sound, imagining a round bottle full of some thick substance. Maybe it was green. Whatever it was, it didn’t appear at all appealing. Her legs trembled as she reached out with fumbling hooves, finally touching the smooth glass. Funny, it was actually a triangular shape.

She held the potion to her chest. It was lighter than she expected. Her stomach churned at the thought of what might happen. What if she didn’t get the boon? Worse, what if she did? But it was too late to question. Trixie had made sure of that.

“Go ahead, Vinyl,” Trixie whispered in her ear. “It’s okay. Like ripping off a band-aid. Just get it over with.”

Vinyl nodded. She raised the bottle in shaking hooves, her mouth half-opened. Her heart throbbed as the glass touched her chin. “W-whatever happens, Trixie, I want you to know that I’m proud of you. You and Amethyst. If this ends up being something really bad… you’ll let her know, won’t you? That I love you girls?”

“Of course I will.” Trixie’s hoof rubbed Vinyl’s back. “And I know you’ll do the same for me.”

“Yeah.” Vinyl heaved a long breath. Then another. And another. Finally, she pulled her head back and drank.

The potion wasn’t as thick as she’d expected, and it had a very strong taste. It reminded her of that pink gunk she sometimes took when her stomach bothered her as a filly, but with a sour quality. It wasn’t a pleasant taste, but at least it didn’t leave her gagging. She drank it all in one go, surprised that there wasn’t a lot of it. Two quick swallows and it was down.

She set the bottle on the table and sucked in a sharp breath. Seconds passed as she braced for some kind of impact. Her ears flicked to the clock; one second, five seconds, ten. The tension slowly left her shoulders and she turned her head about as if to look for something. “I don’t feel anything. You?”

“Not really,” Trixie said. “Maybe it takes a while to set in? Or—”

Vinyl cocked an eyebrow Trixie’s direction. “Or what?” She could hear Trixie shifting around. The pony stood, her hooves hurrying towards the door. “Trixie?”

“How the hay did that happen?”

Vinyl perked her ears, but heard nothing out of the ordinary. “What’s going on?”

The hoofsteps returned. “There’s… a third bottle on the table. It wasn’t there a second ago.”

“A third—” Vinyl gasped. “What color is the potion?”

“Is it a potion?”

“What color?”

“Yellow!”

A smile came to Vinyl as hope sparked in her. She had almost thought Fine wouldn’t keep his promise. “It’s the antidote! We have to get it to Amethyst.”

“But how did it get there?”

“Who cares?” Vinyl waved at the ceiling. “Weren’t you the one who wanted to get this over with?”

Trixie sighed, and the faint hum of magic could be heard. “You’re right. Come on.”

They climbed the stairs together, Vinyl’s leg draped over Trixie’s back. Trixie didn’t bother to knock, instead going directly into the bedroom. Faint whimpering could be heard from Amethyst’s bed. They took their spots on opposite sides before Trixie worked to wake the whispering filly.

“Come on, Ammy. Sorry, sis.”

Amethyst gave a tiny yelp, and for a few seconds her breathing was labored. “T-Trixie? You’re okay?”

“Of course I am. It was just a dream.”

The filly’s voice was hoarse, her words slow. “What about… Oh, Vinyl. You’re home. Th-thank goodness.”

“Yeah, I’m back.” Vinyl reached a hoof out, grasping until she felt Amethyst’s mane. She rubbed a hoof along her face and smiled. “I picked something up for ya.”

“Here you go, Ammy.”

“What is this?” The bed squeaked, presumably from Amethyst sitting up. “It looks like medicine.”

“It is,” Vinyl whispered. She set her forehooves to the bed and tried to offer a comforting smile. “It’s why I went to Canterlot. It will take away the nightmares. Now I know medicine tastes—”

Pop.

Vinyl closed her mouth, eyebrows rising to the loud gulping sounds from the filly. “Uh…”

Amethyst let out a gasp and took a moment to catch her breath. “That tasted pretty good.”

“Wow,” Trixie said. “I thought we were gonna have to convince you.”

“I d-don’t want to have nightmares anymore,” Amethyst whispered. She whimpered and rested over Vinyl’s legs. “I’m so tired… B-but if I sleep, the mud pony comes for us. I’m scared, Vinyl.”

“I know. I know, Ammy.” She leaned down to nuzzle the filly. “But they’ll stop soon. The potion will kick in and you’ll be all better. I promise.”

A long yawn escaped Amethyst and she rubbed her head against Vinyl’s chest. “I hope so. I can’t stay awake long. Umm…”

The bed shifted under Vinyl’s hooves. She realized Trixie had climbed on. “I’ll stay here with you, Ammy. It’s okay to sleep now.”

“P-promise?”

“We’re not going anywhere,” Vinyl whispered into her ear. “Go on. Get some rest. You deserve it.”

“O-okay…”

Only a few seconds passed before the filly’s breathing shifted to that familiar, deep rhythm. Vinyl started to rest her head, but quickly realized that she was in a terrible position for laying down. “Aww, nuts.”

Trixie giggled and carefully extracted the filly from over her forelegs. “There. Better?”

“Much.” Vinyl climbed on. She could just feel the edge of the bed at her back, but she put up with the discomfort as she and Trixie settled down on each side of Amethyst.

They lay in silence for some time. Vinyl kept stroking her hoof along Amethyst’s back, a small smile on her lips.

Trixie’s sleepy voice rose from the other side of the bed. “It’s worth it, right? No matter what the outcome.”

“It is,” Vinyl whispered, leaning down to kiss the filly’s forehead. Amethyst’s ear flicked against her nose, making her grin. “It really is.”

Trixie gave a great yawn. “I’m not moving. I’m tuckered out. You can go, if you want. I can take it from here.”

With a contented sigh, Vinyl wiggled into a more comfortable position and relaxed. “I’m not going anywhere. Whatever happens next, we’ll face it together.”

“Hmm… I like that idea,” Trixie whispered. “Vinyl?”

“Hmm?”

A long silence passed between them.

“I’m proud to be your sister, too.”










January 13, C.Y. 1000
Hoofington


Vinyl was having a strange dream. A vivid, colorful dream where everything was lit up like a Hearth’s Warming night. She was still laying on Amethyst’s bed, and she could actually see the filly lying on her forehoof. But instead of a filly with fur and hooves, she saw colors; brilliant, streaming raspberry reds that radiated through the pony in a myriad of lines coursing through every part of the body, all coming to a bright point at the filly’s horn.

Her own hooves were colored, too. The web streaming through her was a light magenta, the same as the aura of her magic. She lifted a hoof to study it, watching with fascination as the lines brightened briefly along her musculature. There were other colors, too. Whenever Amethyst breathed, a soft blue aura rose from her chest. The bed squeaked at Vinyl’s movement, producing little splashes of yellow.

“Well, this is different,” she said, watching with fascination as a green wave rose from her throat. She sat up and turned her head, noting the total darkness surrounding her. Yet it wasn’t a complete black; the hum of the air conditioning produced a dull blue color on the vent, and when she turned to the window she could see vibrantly shifting colors in reds, yellows and green as birds chirped from the gutters. She turned to look at Trixie, but the pony was nowhere to be found.

Vinyl had been in many a weird, terrible and beautiful dream, but this was unlike any she’d known before. Curiosity quickly got the better of her, and she trotted out of the room to see what other colorful weirdness might be in store for her. She looked down as her hooves clopped on the wood, each step producing a bright purple color. When she descended the stairs, the purple was joined by the yellow sparks of the squeaky wood.

As soon as she reached the ground floor, her gaze went to that old friend, the wall clock. It sent out alternative pulses of two distinct shades of violet. She couldn’t help but smile at the sight.

Although she could ‘see’ sound, otherwise Vinyl was well and truly blind. She cast her head around, trying to orient her position based on what she knew and the few splashes of color that made themselves known. She made her way to the kitchen, but paused when she found something waiting for her: the rosewood red webbing of a pony, half-covered by blackness. She realized that the blackness was the corner of the wall and relaxed before stepping into the room proper.

The unicorn’s head, distinguishable only as a spiderweb of shifting lines, turned her way. Vinyl could only gape; there was something in the pony’s head, yellow and bright and snaking out to connect to the red lines in an intricate weave. She couldn’t tell what she was looking at, but it gave her a bad feeling she couldn’t put into words.

“Is something wrong, Vinyl?”

She jumped, startled by the crystal-clear sound of his voice and the light blue wave radiating from where she presumed his mouth was. “Fine Crime? What are you doing in my dream?”

“Dream?” He cocked his head, the lines of his neck glowing faintly from the movement. “If this is a dream, wake me up.”

She stared at him for several seconds, not comprehending, then his words hit her with all the force of a sledgehammer. The air left her lungs and she slowly looked down at the magenta weave of her own body. “This… this is real?”

“As real as ever.” He stood and turned to her. “Why? Did something happen?”

She raised one hoof, studying the little lines up close. “This is so strange. I can see sounds. And magic, I think. Pick something up.”

A red aura appeared, forming into a distinct coffee mug shape on the table, then rose into the air. Vinyl watched, jaw loose, then tried her own magic. Her magenta glow appeared distinctly, encircling the red aura until Fine released, and she immediately felt the mug’s weight. It was all the confirmation she needed to know this was real.

“Fascinating.” Fine turned to her. “I can’t imagine what that looks like.”

The mug fell to the table with a dark brown thunk, accompanied by the light green splash of its contents. “I got the boon,” Vinyl whispered. “Th-that means…”

She whipped her head about, looking for Trixie’s magical aura. It was blue, she remembered that much. “Where’s Trixie? What happened to Trixie?!”

“Trixie’s…”

She turned on Fine, fear and hope battling for control of her emotions. “You saw her? What happened to her? What was the curse? Where did she go?”

He bowed his head, giving her a perfect view of the spidery yellow tendrils wrapped inside his skull. She took an unsteady step back from the horrible sight. His words from back in Canterlot rose from the back of her mind.

I am magically bound to her command.

“Oh, Goddess, you weren’t lying,” she whispered, a fresh wave of horror coming to her. Horror… and sympathy.

“Trixie’s gone.”

His words snapped her out of the moment and brought her mind crashing down. “W-what do you mean, gone?”

He nodded, head turned away from her. “She left this morning in a daze. I followed her for a while, spoke to her a few times. She had no idea who I was every time. I think… I think her memories were fading.”

“What?” Vinyl shook her head forcefully. “But… but Ammy was supposed to get her memories cleaned!”

“I don’t think Celestia lied to you,” he said carefully. “I think Amethyst is cured. Perhaps the potion Trixie drank was a more severe mental wipe. Ah, don’t.” He moved to stand in Vinyl’s way as she turned for the door. “It’s too late. She got on a train. She’s long gone, Vinyl.”

“W-what do you mean, long gone?” Vinyl’s legs shook, her heart ached. “She’s… Trixie’s my… I have to help her.”

“And who’s going to watch after Amethyst while you search?” Fine pushed her back, and she fell to a sitting position. “I promise, we’ll keep an eye on Trixie.”

“I have to get her back.” Vinyl buried her face in her hooves, but all that served to do was give her a face-full of brilliant magenta. “How could she have forgotten? I’ll find her. Dry Eyes can—”

“No.” Fine pressed his hooves to her shoulder and shook his head vehemently. “Don’t do it, Vinyl. Celestia is watching. We have to report to her on this.”

“I don’t care!”

“You should care!” The lines forming his body pulsed with his emotions. “Don’t you get it? Celestia has made Amethyst a pet project. She wants your little sister to be miserable, but she traded that for this little game. Somepony has to suffer, or else Celestia will try something different, something worse. Don’t give her an excuse, Vinyl!”

Vinyl tried to sound forceful, but her voice broke. “What do you want me to do? Give up? Leave her alone out there?”

“Yes.” He sighed and turned from her. “Let the Archons watch over Trixie. We’ll keep her as safe as we can. You’ve already seen a little of what Celestia is capable of. Believe me when I tell you that you don’t want to know the full extent of her corruption.”

At his words, Vinyl found herself staring at that yellow… atrocity in his head. Her heart sank as she realized that she already had a perfect example of how low the princess could go. Tears welled in her eyes as she understood the truth in his words. “B-but… We’re family. Trixie belongs here. Why does she have to go back to being alone? Why wasn’t it me?”

“I know. Believe me Vinyl, I know.” Fine turned to her once more, his blue voice weak. “How do you think I felt when I had to leave Amethyst at an orphanage after overseeing the butchering of her parents? Horrible, evil things are happening all around us. Sometimes the best course of action is to take a small hit to avoid a big one.”

“This isn’t a ‘small’ hit, Fine.” She bowed her head, thinking about everything that led up to this moment. “It’s so hard to accept. Goddess, what am I going to tell Ammy?”

“Be respectful,” Fine said, his tone suddenly firm. “Tell her the truth.”

She eyed his brilliant colors. “Seriously?”

He nodded. “Seriously. Don’t assume she’s too young to handle it. Amethyst has been through a lot. It’ll hurt, but what’s worse, thinking her sister abandoned her, or knowing that Trixie had no idea what she was doing?”

“I… guess that makes sense.” Vinyl growled at her shiny hooves. “Why the buck did I have to get the boon? Why did Celestia even have to put that stupid stipulation on us? I want my sister back!”

“Because Celestia is evil incarnate,” Fine whispered, anger dripping from his words. “Someday she is going to burn.”

Vinyl took another close look at the yellow spiderweb on his head. She had a pretty good idea of what it was for, and the thought was truly sickening. It also brought up some troubling questions. “If you hate her so much, why do you work for her?”

His answer came quick and with confidence. “Because the Mane Archon is the second most powerful pony in the world. This job gives me the tools I need to at least try to bring that b-b-b… mare down.” He rubbed at his muzzle with a growl. “I have to do terrible things for her, but in return I get a shot at her life. Ending it is the holy horseshoe of my existence.”

Vinyl considered this, her gaze never leaving the yellow streaks in his skull. She thought on Trixie, now doomed to a life alone; of Amethyst and her ten years of needless mental torture; of her own struggles in the early part of her life due to a broken system; of every foal that didn’t have a chance. Her gaze lingered up to the ceiling, to the one thing she had left to protect.

And she was determined to protect her.

“What can I do?”

Fine didn’t answer, so she turned her determined frown on him.

“You… want to help?”

“That’s what I said.” She began pacing, her gaze on her hooves. “I can’t just stand by and let this happen. Trixie deserves better. Amethyst just got a second chance at life, I am going to protect that life. I can’t believe I spent all these years trying to live a normally when the source of all our problems is sitting on a gilded throne!”

“I don’t think you understand,” he said with uncertainty. “What about your sister? Shouldn’t you be focused on taking care of her?”

She glared at him. “You think I can’t raise her and do a full time job? That is what we’re talking about, after all.”

“A very dangerous full-time job,” he countered. “And you wouldn’t be just helping me to bring Celestia down, you’d also be following my orders, which are often her orders, which means a lot of bad sh… sh… things. You’d have to become the bad guy, Vinyl. And let’s not forget that you’re blind as a bat.”

“I can see colors! I can see magic! And I’m not the weakest—” A small wave of energy radiated from her horn, intended to be used as a demonstration of her power. She jumped back, head whipping around as everything the magical wave touched became visible like a massive, three-dimensional painting of different shades of magenta. It was the clearest image of the kitchen she’d had in over a month, though it faded after only a couple seconds.

She smiled. “I’m gonna have to remember that trick.” She realized Fine was watching her and shifted anxiously. “Well?”

Fine’s answer was deathly serious. “I can see some huge potential in a pony that can see sounds and magical effects. But I want you to think about this, Vinyl.” He raised a shining hoof to silence her retort. “Think about it. Think about what’s best for Amethyst. Think about the dangers you will face, and the atrocities you may have to commit. Then think about how success is anything but guaranteed; just because we want to kill Celestia doesn’t mean we can do it, and failure may mean death.”

He stepped forward and set a hoof to her shoulder. “Think about what you’ve already been through, and what is yet to come. Don’t just jump into this. It’s a huge, life-changing decision. I’m going to give you time – let’s say a month. If, when I come back to see you after that, you’re still interested in this then I will have you trained properly. I’ll let you in, Vinyl, no questions asked.

“But you have to promise me that you’ll think this through.”

She stared at his hoof, the red lines shifting subtly towards her own magenta. She looked at his colorful head, at the abomination webbed across his brain. She thought on not just his words, but also his tone and volume. Everything told her that he was completely serious in this offer… and the warnings.

“Alright,” she whispered, giving a slow nod. “A month. I’ll think about it.”

“Good. That’s all I ask.” He stepped back. “I’ll leave you be. I promise to keep you updated on Trixie’s situation, okay?”

At the mention of the sister she lost, Vinyl’s heart twisted. “Y-yeah… thanks.”

“Goodbye, Vinyl. Whatever decision you make, I wish you only the best.”

His colors disappeared behind the hallway wall, and then the door closed with a dull blue thunk. Vinyl sat alone in the kitchen, her mind empty save for the steady ticking of the clock. Eventually she took the time to get a glass of water, quietly admiring the soft orange of the faucet and the yellow squeak of the handles.

Then she went back upstairs and buried herself under the blankets of Amethyst’s bed, holding her remaining sister tight.

She had no intention of letting go. Ever.
	
> Intermission II — From the Sky
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------




Princess Luna. It took forever for me to get used to that name. I mean, everyone knows it’s her real name, but we’ve been going for so long referring to her as Nightmare Moon that it’s easy to forget who she once was.

Who she could be again.

We’re all on pins and needles around here. Trixie’s on her way to the Everfree Forest as I write this, and Fine has made it clear to me what her task is. I haven’t seen her in seven years, and I know she wouldn’t recognize me even if I got in her face and hugged her. Even so, I’m scared. What if she can’t do it? What if she’s overwhelmed? Fine acts confident and tells me to trust my long-lost sister, and I do

Don’t lie to yourself, Vinyl. Don’t delude yourself into think everything’s gonna be alright. Your sister is about to face a demon, and you have to sit in the bucking castle and wait it out. I can’t stand this. It’s the most horrible torture I’ve ever endured. If Caballeron and Fleur weren’t waiting for me to make a move, I’d be halfway to that old, rotting castle by now. Why won’t Fine let me go? What does he think I’m going to do?

Trixie might die.

I want to see her. One more time. There’s so much I want to say.

I hate this. I hate it so much.

Please, let Fine be right about her.

—Vinyl Scratch, Book of Shadows XLVIII
May 28, 1007












June 21, C.Y. 1000
Canterlot


Vinyl’s horn hummed a light yellow as she released small, barely noticeable waves of magic in widening spheres around her. With every cast, the hallway became visible in a cascade of visual static of twinkling, yellow spots. Each hoofstep offered a bright green clop against the marble floors. Despite her easy gait, her mind was far from quiet.

She arrived at a closed door, which was flanked by two guards. Though their shapes were easily distinguished by the little magical bursts, what really made them stand out was the complicated weave of lines – leylines, she’d come to dub them – that coursed through their bodies in an intricate web of light. The earth pony’s lines were a dark green, with the color being especially bright around the muscles of his legs and the hooves. The pegasus opposite him was a dull orange, with more intense colors in his wings.

Vinyl was fascinated at how the magic looked different based on race. All the pegasi she’d met had dim coloration through most of their bodies, but their wings always lit up like torches. Seeing them in flight was especially brilliant. It was much the same for unicorns and their horns. Earth ponies, curiously, were almost always more vividly displayed, their colors shining evenly throughout their bodies but more dimly on the whole. She assumed it was because the magic was evenly spaced throughout their forms instead of centered in one area.

She realized she’d been staring and promptly headed for the door. The guards made no attempt to stop her. Her magenta aura took hold of the handle, leaving a dim streak in its wake as the door opened. Vinyl stepped inside and immediately fired off some more of her detection spells.

She was in what appeared to be a circular amphitheater, an aisle running ahead of her to a large central opening. The place was so big that her regular magical sweeps couldn’t reach the opposite wall, and she promptly increased the strength. It would mean that others could see the wave, but that was of no concern to her.

She first noticed that, instead of cushions or seats, the rows around the center were nothing more than unadorned steps. The center ‘stage’ was anything but, being an equally undecorated circle; it hadn’t even been raised up for ease of viewing. A single point of magical energy hovered high near the ceiling at the center of the room, shining bright gold. She could only assume it acted as a light for those with usable eyes. A spotlight, perhaps?

Her gaze drifted to the figures sitting at the edge of the amphitheater. The first she noted was that soft, girly pink that Vinyl associated with frilly dresses and air-headed laughter. By now she knew that none of those things applied to Fleur de Lis, no matter how often she wore such a mask outside these walls. The tall unicorn towered over everypony else, and her horn shone more brightly than any other in the room. Vinyl couldn’t imagine how much work Fleur had put herself through to achieve that level of magical strength at her young age.

Beside Fleur sat a mass of dark red. When Vinyl looked at Fine, she sometimes imagined she was actually seeing blood vessels. Though an unsettling image, she thought it suited Fine very well. His horn also shone brightly, but not nearly as bright as that of the tall, pink form beside him. Still, it was clearly more intense than the last time she’d seen him. It seemed Fine grew stronger by the day, albeit slowly.

But he still had that hideous yellow mesh around his brain. Vinyl didn’t let her magical gaze linger on it.

A short distance from them was another bundle of energy, both literally and figuratively. Surprise’s colors were pink, but of a much darker shade than Fleur’s. Her leylines constantly shifted, the magic running through her body much faster than the others, and the shapes and patterns flowed in a way both distorted and chaotic. Vinyl had learned how to look at ponies and determine the direction and flow of their inner magic, but Surprise’s seemed to have no direction or purpose, coursing around in rapid pulses of energy.

It was hard to look at Surprise. Her leylines were simply wrong, on a disturbing level. There were also fewer of them – about half that of a normal pony – and this gave her a thin, sickly appearance without the aid of Vinyl’s detection spheres. One couldn’t tell that from her behavior, though; the mare bounced and fidgeted in her seat, probably caught in a desperate mental war between the urge to fly around and the desire to be good for Fine. Her aura shined brightly today; she had to have just come out of the pool.

Or had lunch.

A calm form of beautiful purple sat beside Surprise, a perfect shade that somehow stood on the line between dark and light. Like all earth ponies, Octavia’s colors perfectly distributed throughout her form, giving an unusually clear picture of her shape. Even by earth pony standards, however, Octavia was vivid; her magic flowed in a smooth stream that never ceased, yet never seemed rushed or excited. Watching Octavia’s leylines had a curiously calming effect on Vinyl, though she’d never admit it to the pony’s face. How frustrating, that the pony most pleasing to look at was the one Vinyl least wanted to be around.

A light blue wave washed over her. “Admiring the view?”

She turned to glower at Fine. “Don’t be insulting.”

He flinched and rubbed the back of his head. “You know, you could always try talking to her.”

“I don’t want to talk to her.” She sighed and gestured to their surroundings. “So why’d you call everypony here? Must be something big if the whole team is in.”

Fine shrugged. “That’s a question for Celestia. She’s the one who called for this meeting.”

“Great…” Vinyl could swear she saw the green wave of her voice dripping with disgust. “Had I known she was behind this, I would have got on the train. And what am I supposed to tell my producer when I get to Seaddle a day late for my concert? I can’t keep my cover job if they fire me.”

“There’s no way they’ll fire you.” She could see his smirk even without a detection sphere. “Just like they didn’t press you to get back to work after Neighrobi.”

She sighed and nodded. “Yeah, you’re right. Nopony’s gonna say ‘no’ to us, right?”

“And certainly not ‘you’re fired.’ ” Fine waved towards the seats. “Come on, might as well get comfortable. Or not, considering the surroundings.”

As she followed him towards Fleur, she asked, “So why would Celestia want us to meet in some forgotten part of the castle nopony cares about? The dungeons get more visitors than this dump. Hey, Fleur.”

Fleur nodded to her. “A pleasure as alvays, Vinyl.”

Vinyl returned the motion, then looked to Fine. He pointedly refused to look at her. “Hey, I asked a question.”

“I know.” He fidgeted as she sat beside him. “The last time Celestia called me to a place like this, bad things happened.” He raised his hooves and stared at them, but without her detection spell there was no way for Vinyl to determine his expression. “I’m just a little worried.”

“Ah.” Now Vinyl was fidgeting, too. “That’s not exactly reassuring, y’know.”

“I wouldn’t worry,” Fleur said. “It will probably just be some special mission.”

Fine’s head jerked towards her. “A ‘special mission’ like the Rape of Sīṃgakh?”

Fleur winced and said nothing.

“Wait.” Vinyl looked between the two of them with eyebrows raised. “The Rape of Sīṃgakh was an Archon mission? Seriously?”

“Keep your voice down,” Fine hissed. “I’d rather not remind Octavia of that now.”

Vinyl sniffed her disdain, but kept her response quiet. “What, did she bungle that one up too? Is she the reason thousands of nilgiri died?”

“We’ll discuss it later,” Fine hissed. “But don’t you dare say anything to Octavia about—”

The door opened, and all eyes immediately shifted to it. Except for Vinyl’s; she instead turned her face away, raising her hoof in a pointless attempt to shield herself from the glare. So intensely bright were Celestia’s leylines, Vinyl couldn’t stand to look directly at the princess for longer than a second or two. Even looking away, her head felt thick from the sheer energy vibrating through her skull at the princess’s proximity.

She didn’t want to think about how powerful Celestia must be.

“Good morning, my little ponies.” The princess’s voice was bubbly, befitting the prancing pace of her hooves.

“Good morning, princess!” Surprise called, promptly leaping into the air to approach. Nopony tried to stop her. Vinyl risked a quick glance to find the pony flying small circles around Celestia in a pink blur.

Celestia giggled at the freak’s enthusiasm. “Always a pleasure to see you, Surprise. I’m sorry I can’t play with you right now. Please, have a seat. If you’re good, I may give you a treat later.”

Surprise gave a gleeful cry. “Oh boy! Will it be in the dungeons? Can I use the iron claw this time?”

“We’ll see. Now, go on.”

Surprise was back in her spot an instant later, her body perfectly still but her leylines flowing with refreshed energy. Vinyl didn’t try to disguise her glare.

“You’re unpleasantly chipper this morning,” Fine said gruffly.

Celestia came to a stop at the center of the room. “I have every reason to be. Hello, Vinyl. How goes your training?”

Vinyl felt like vomiting, but she forced the words from her lips. “As well as can be expected, your highness. Fine says I’ll be going on missions before the year is out.”

“Glad to hear it! Fleur, you’re as lovely as always.”

“Thank you, princess.”

“And Octavia! I haven’t seen you since your assignment to Neighrobi. Good to have you back. I read your final report. Wonderful work, as expected.”

Vinyl turned her glare on the pretty purple shape of Octavia, which wobbled in place before answering with a quiet, “Thank you, your highness.” Vinyl thought she saw the mare cast a look her way.

Fine growled and stood. “Can we dispense with the idle chatter? I’d like to know why we’re all here.”

“Oh, really, Fine, you’re such a bore.” Celestia chuckled and backed away from them until she sat just outside the circle. “But I suppose you’re right. I invited you and the Order here to act as witnesses, and to establish the special circumstances. It’s been a long time since I’ve been able to watch such entertaining ponies as the lot of you.”

“We’re all charmed, I’m sure,” Fine replied in a dull tone. “And just what are we witnessing?”

“Oh, oh!” Surprise began bouncing in place. “Is it a new toy? With lots of screaming involved? Will there be blood?”

Celestia spoke in a soothing voice. “Calm down, child. It is nothing so blatant. I am continuing a special project tonight, a project of torment, one that I have been working on for a long time. In fact, as of today, it will be the project’s one-thousandth anniversary.”

Surprise released a ridiculously loud gasp. “That’s amazing! I didn’t know you could play with somepony for a thousand years. Can you teach me how to do that?”

“Hush,” Octavia whispered, pushing her companion to the floor. “Let her finish.”

“Thank you, Octavia. Now, you’re all going to help me with this project, probably in ways I cannot foresee. I am, essentially, dropping you all into it head-first. Then I’ll just watch and see where it goes. Sounds like fun, right?”

Nopony replied. Vinyl felt her insides churning; it almost sounded like Celestia planned to feed them to some monster. Sucking in a short breath and hoping she sounded calmer than she felt, she asked, “So what are we expected to do?”

“Nothing,” Celestia replied. “You will do what comes naturally, whatever that entails. I trust that you will all entertain me regardless. After all, this project always produces results. Now, everypony keep quiet and use no spells. I need no distractions.”

Then the magic started, and what magic it was! Vinyl turned away as the already blinding brightness of Celestia’s horn increased exponentially. The waves of energy coursing through the room impacted her skull like hammers, and she gritted her teeth to keep from shouting. It didn’t actually hurt, but it would give her a colossal headache before long.

Fleur’s voice whispered in her ear. “Are you okay?”

“No,” she hissed back. “It’s like being caught inside the sun.”

“Is there anything we can do?” Fine asked.

She shook her head. Another wave of energy smashed into her, pulling a whimper from her throat. Soreness began to course through her skull. “Goddess, I am going to be feeling this tomorrow.”

Then, there was a flash, not of Celestia’s golden might, but of a soft blue. An instant later, the waves of magic ceased entirely. For Vinyl, it was like having all the lights turned out at once.

Silence reigned. Vinyl’s magical vision gradually evened out, though the faint throbbing continued. She looked to Fine, then to Fleur; both were looking towards the center of the room. Pursing her lips, she dared turn to face whatever Celestia had done, squinting pointlessly against the brightness of the princess herself.

Her jaw dropped at the sight of a new figure in the circle. Or... was it one figure? Two very different shades of blue crafted a confusing jumble of leylines. Though neither blue was light, one was notably darker than the other, and that one coursed with energy and vibrancy that reminded her – worryingly – of Surprise. The other was calmer, smooth like Octavia’s, and constantly flowing with patient energy.

The two colors intermingled as a single form, both beautiful and hideous at once. They shined brightly, outmatching all in the room save the vastly more brilliant Celestia. It was a constant glow, webbing out to every part of the pony’s body like an earth pony, but sporting the familiar wings and horn of an alicorn.

Vinyl was at once perplexed and amazed. What was this new, brilliant and frightening creation? She wanted to say something, to ask the questions flying through her mind, but could pull nothing from her throat. The silence seemed sacrosanct, and she wouldn’t be the first to violate it. So, like everypony else in the room, she merely watched as the new figure rose on wobbling legs, its head turning towards the blindingly bright Celestia.

A voice, hard and focused and a brilliant violet, rose from the figure. “So, the time has come once again.”

A second voice, this one playful and a slightly lighter shade, came from the same figure. “Hello, Celestia. I was beginning to wonder when you’d let me have some more fun.”

Celestia’s tone was polite and pleasant. “Hello, dear sister. It is always good to see you. Luna, Nightmare, I look forward to the coming months.”

Vinyl’s throat constricted as comprehension hit her.

“Not that I’m complaining,” the playful voice said, “but I would love for these visits to be more frequent than once a century. Couldn’t you make it fifty years instead?”

“Now Nightmare,” Celestia countered with her own playful tone, “you know we must keep up appearances. Besides, I thought you liked having Luna all to yourself.”

Nightmare laughed, a radiating wave of violet flowing from her throat. “What can I say? We’re hot and we know it.”

Celestia giggled in turn, but then her voice became worried. “What’s the matter, Luna? Haven’t you anything to say to me?”

For a time, the figure did not answer. When it did, it was in the darker-shaded voice, and there was no small amount of bitterness in it. “How long do you intend to keep me here this time?”

“I love you too, Lulu.” Celestia chuckled. “That depends. I’ve got some special playmates for you. Look, I suspect you’ll recognize one of them.”

Nightmare Moon turned to face the audience, and Vinyl noted how the others tensed. Therein lied one benefit to only seeing ponies as colorful bundles of light: Vinyl had no idea what their faces looked like. She could have used her detection sphere to get the details… but thought better of it. She probably didn’t want to know if one of Equestria’s mortal enemies was looking her in the eye.

That didn’t keep her from shifting in agitation, well aware that this pony could probably tear her to pieces for the fun of it.

She’d probably get along perfectly with Surprise.

“So,” Luna said in that deeper, icy voice, “we meet again, Verity Fine, once Fine Crime.”

All heads turned to Fine, who stepped forward cautiously. “Hello, Princess Luna. Celestia tells me you’ve visited my dreams.”

“Only the one. I assume you are the Mane Archon now?”

At his nod, Nightmare spoke up. “I have to admit, I’m impressed. I thought you’d be a desiccated corpse in the Everfree.”

Celestia walked up behind her sister – sisters? – and Vinyl had to turn her face away from the glare. “Fine is more than you know, Lulu. He may be the single best Mane Archon I’ve ever had. He and his chosen ponies will make perfect playmates for you.”

Nightmare’s head slowly shifted as she took in the other members of the Order. The lighter-colored voice spoke with a playful tone. “They appear to be a bunch of misfits. I wonder what motivations they will have for me to play with?”

“Be silent,” the darker-shaded voice commanded. “I don’t understand why these ponies are here. Have the Archons expanded?”

“They are the Order of Shadows, founded by Fine,” Celestia replied with a giggle, “and they all share one goal. Well, all save one. Surprise, would you join me?”

The air practically exploded from Surprise’s lungs, suggesting she’d been holding her breath the entire time. Vinyl had to give her credit; staying quiet for as long as she had must have been a terrible strain on her psyche. “Yes yes yes! Are we gonna play now, huh huh huh?”

“Come on, the dungeons await!” Celestia’s golden form made for the door, Surprise’s pink mass following behind so fast it left a streak of color across Vinyl’s world. “I’ll leave the lot of you to introduce yourselves. Nightmare, you and I will talk later.”

“You mean you’re leaving me alone with these plebes?” Nightmare scoffed. “A hundred years apart, and already you abandon me.”

“Oh, don’t be such a drama princess.” The door closed, and the brilliance of Celestia disappeared. Vinyl heaved a sigh of relief as the pleasant darkness she was accustomed to came back at last.

There was a prolonged silence. The newly returned princess and the Order members shared glances. Octavia coughed.

“So,” Nightmare started. “I suppose Celestia wants us all to be ‘chums.’ Might as well introduce myself: I am Nightmare Moon, general incarnate of villainy, half-sister of Celestia. Hobbies include manipulation, inducing nightmares and crochet, while dabbling in attempted coups. I’m sure we’ll all be best friends, provided you don’t mind me screwing with your heads. Who’s next?”

Another lengthy silence.

The darker-shaded voice returned, Luna’s tone as commanding as ever. “Nightmare, could you please refrain from speaking for at least a few minutes?”

“Oh, I suppose.” Nightmare chuckled, a slow, unpleasant sound. “But only because you asked nicely.”

“Thank you.” Princess Luna raised her head, once again panning the room. “No introduction is needed on my part. I imagine you all know who I am and my long history, though I know Celestia has tortured it into something false.” She spat the last few words like poison. “Am I to assume that everypony present seeks to remove my sister from the throne?”

“You assume correctly,” Fine replied, his voice as bitter as Luna’s. “The ponies before you are members of the Order, which I have been forming to act as both Archon leadership and my… ‘co-conspirators.’ Of course, Celestia is well aware of our purpose.”

“Of course she is; she’s been ‘playing’ with her Mane Archons for centuries.” Luna’s voice became curious. “But never has a Mane Archon gathered a team like this. Consider me intrigued.”

Fleur spoke up, her tone hopeful. “Princess, do you intend to vork vis us?”

“Celestia will be expecting that,” Luna replied quickly. “She wants it. She delights in watching me struggle in vain – and I assure you, the struggle is in vain.”

Vinyl grimaced. “That’s hardly what I’d expect from a pony like you.”

The colorful lines of Luna’s head shifted her direction, and Vinyl was sure the temperature in the room just dropped a few degrees. “I have been trying for a thousand years to dethrone Celestia. Every century she brings me here so that I might try again, and every century I fail and am sent back. She does this purely for her own amusement, and I have been dancing to her tune all along. If you had to watch every plan and scheme crumble around you again and again, you too would recognize the futility of resistance. I have watched allies and friends die because of my failures, and I am tired of it.”

Vinyl turned her face away; even if she couldn’t see the glare, she still felt the pressure of it. She felt foolish for having bothered to speak at all.

“Now hold on.” Fine stalked towards the princess, his light blue voice filled with anger. “You are the one who got me out of the Everfree alive, are you not? You wouldn’t have done that just to slight your sister. Why would you support me, fully knowing what it meant for my future, if you didn’t intend to work together?”

Luna cocked head, but the voice that came out was Nightmare’s. “Tell me, colt, how long have you been the Mane Archon?”

“Ten years.”

“Ten years to you is both a blink and an eternity to us,” Nightmare hissed. “Could you hold out hope, Verity Fine? Those ten years – your entire life – is but a fraction of the time we spent on that blasted rock.”

The voice shifted to that of Luna. “Can you even imagine one year of such isolation, with nothing but the mad ramblings of a monster in your head for company? Do not even try to envision a hundred years of loneliness, bouts of madness, untold days of rage and hate and loss and defeat and abject misery! What of a thousand? At the time we spoke to you, it was at a rare moment of pointless hope. It happens occasionally.”

“Then we wake up,” Nightmare continued, head held high and tone vicious. “Celestia cannot be defeated. We have agreed to a new strategy: leave things be. At least then we can stay on this green planet for a while longer before Celestia realizes our ruse and sends us back for her boredom.”

Fleur let out an unladylike curse. “Is sis vy Celestia brought us here? So ve can listen to you vine?”

“It is not—”

“Princess?”

Everypony turned their attention to Octavia. Even Vinyl, who saw all ponies as shining beacons in the dark, hasn’t noticed her walking up to the princess. Now she sat a small distance from the alicorn, who looked to her in turn. Nightmare’s words were biting. “What? Have you some fresh means of scolding me with your mortal, pathetic self-righteousness?”

Though Vinyl couldn’t see her face, Octavia’s ever-flowing leylines remained calm, which was a far cry from the shifting and pulsing emotions of everypony else in the room.

The pony gave a brief bow. When she spoke, her voice maintained a steady, curious manner. “You don’t have long, right? Celestia sent you here to entertain her, but you intend to defy that. How long do you have before she grows tired of waiting?”

Luna fidgeted, her head aimed at the smaller pony before her. The agitated rush of the two sets of leylines in her body began to calm. The voice that replied was Luna’s. “I cannot say. A few years, we hope.”

Octavia nodded. “I understand that you don’t want to work with us. I don’t mind. But… perhaps we can be friends? I think you and I have much to share.”

It took a moment for Luna to reply. “You… what?”

She shook her head, Nightmare’s voice coming out in force. “Don’t be ridiculous! Why would I want to be friends with you?”

Octavia tilted her head. “I would think that, after a hundred years alone, nothing would be more desirable than a little company.”

Vinyl cast her magical eye towards Fine and Fleur, who glanced back in what she could only assume were expressions as dumbfounded as her own.

“I do not want your—”

Nightmare made a strange, grunt-like sound and wobbled.

“Be silent, Nightmare,” Luna said, her voice quiet. “What is your name?”

“Octavia Melody, your majesty.”

“I… I do not think being familiar with me would be good for your health, Miss Melody.”

“I don’t care.” Octavia took a step closer. “If I know Celestia as I think I do, you don’t deserve the punishment you have received. Nopony should be so alone. If you will not let us help you in other ways, then let me help you in another.”

A wave of nausea ran through Vinyl as she realized Octavia ploy. Though tempted to call her out on it, she stilled her tongue; they needed the princess on their side. Vinyl hated herself for it, but she would let the pretty little blot of purple work her foul charm.

“I rather like this idea,” Nightmare said, her tone whimsical. “She can be my first plaything.”

Luna pressed her fetlock over her eyes. “Nightmare—” It was her turn to wobble and choke.

“Don’t ‘Nightmare’ me. You and I both know what I’ll do to a delectable morsel such as her.” Nightmare’s hoof traced a line along Octavia’s cheek, her voice almost a purr. “As if I could resist such a pretty face.”

Octavia pushed the hoof back. Her tone became hard. “I can name a few dozen nilgiri and ponies combined who can attest to my bedtime skill, Nightmare. Would you like to know how they died, or can I talk to Luna now?”

Vinyl sucked in a sharp breath. Had she just admitted to being a whore? Had she just threatened Nightmare Moon? Vinyl had no idea which was more unbelievable.

But instead of turning Octavia into a pile of ash, Nightmare threw back her head and laughed. “I like this one, Luna! She’s got fire. I think I’ll leave her be for now, just for the pleasure of watching.”

“Good, now shut up.” Luna shook her head forcefully. “Forgive her, she is an uncouth demon. But surely you see now that attempting to befriend a wretched soul such as my own can only prove disastrous.”

Octavia shook her head. “It’s my risk to take. Come, why don’t we get out of this stuffy amphitheater? I’m sure you’d like to see something green after all that time among rocks.”

Luna – indeed, everypony – watched as Octavia made her way to the door. When she looked back Luna flinched, as if coming out of a trance. The princess took a hesitant step. “Are… Are you sure? This is not wise.”

Octavia pulled the door open and gestured with a hoof. Her pleasant, violet voice was cheerful. “Come on, princess. There’s a whole world out there.”

Though her reluctance was apparent in her slow pace, Luna followed. As soon as the door closed, the three remaining ponies shared one long stare.

“Vat… just happened?” Fleur asked.

“I think we just got ignored,” Vinyl offered with a shrug.

Fine chuckled, his voice full of respect… and something else Vinyl couldn’t define. “That mare is amazing.”

“Yeah, ‘amazing,’ that’s the word.” Vinyl shuddered. “I knew Octavia was a manipulative witch, but this is something else.”

“Manipulative vitch?” Fleur cocked her head. “Vatever do you mean?”

“I fail to see your point,” Fine agreed.

“What?” Vinyl thrust her hoof in the general direction of the door. “You of all ponies should know a trick when he sees one!” When they both just stared, she groaned and facehoofed. “You can’t tell me you missed it. Octavia’s buttering her up so she’ll work with us!”

Her companions sighed in unison. Fleur spoke first. “You have no idea who Octavia is. You really need to sit down and talk to her.”

Before Vinyl could snap a counter, Fine spoke up. “Octavia was doing nothing of the sort. Her interests were sincere, Vinyl, and you would know that if you’d stop being so stubborn and learn a bit about her.”

“Stubborn?” Vinyl stomped and turned away from the two of them. “I wouldn’t even be an Archon if she’d kept her muzzle out of my business. I wouldn’t be blind if she’d left me out of her stupid scheme! I am not going to try to get along, not with her, so get used to it.”

“But Vinyl, sat’s—”

Fleur was silenced by Fine’s leg rising before her. “We’re not going to waste time arguing over this,” he said, voice hard. “We need to focus on our jobs. Princess Luna and Nightmare Moon are back, and despite their misgivings I’m pretty sure they aren’t going to ignore Celestia forever.”

Fleur shuffled in place. “I’m a little surprised. I sought Celestia vould parade her sister’s return in some cruel fashion. I anticipated a spectacle, not a private meeting.”

“Me too, come to think of it.” Vinyl turned back to them, fighting down her anger now that the conversation was off her vendetta. “Are we really going to work with them? I mean, Luna I’m fine with, but Nightmare? Total psycho.”

Fine considered the question, then turned to Vinyl. “What do you see when you look at her?”

“I saw…” She paused to think on how to describe it. “I saw enough leylines for two individual ponies, but smashed together in a single body. It was weird… and a little disturbing.”

“So sere really are two minds in sere,” Fleur wondered aloud.

Fine rubbed his chin in a thoughtful pose. “Which only goes to further confirm my theories about Celestia. Alright, we’re all going to introduce ourselves to them. Properly.”

Vinyl groaned. “I don’t have time for that. What about my tour?”

“Your train won’t leave until tomorrow,” he replied. “We’ve got all day to make our introductions. And we’ll do them individually, not as a group. I think Octavia has the right idea.”

“Great.” Vinyl jerked her face away from them with a scowl. “Just how I wanted to spend my day; alone with a freak that might just kill me.”

Fleur chuckled. “Surprise is vis Celestia, Vinyl.”

“Oh, Goddess!” Vinyl covered her face in her hooves. “One psychopath was enough already!”
> Book III – Gulfstream: Making a Mark
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------




Uncle Fine wants me to talk about the past. Why should I? He already knows everything. What good would writing it down do? I don’t care about this stupid book. The only reason I haven’t chucked it out the window is because it seems important to him. And because I read Miss Scratc

Okay, maybe this stuff is important. But Miss Scratch went through everything, didn’t she? And to do that, you have to remember. I don’t want to remember. It just makes me angry.

So angry.

—Gulfstream , Book of Shadows XLVIII
May 29, 1007












July 5, C.Y. 1000
Foal Mountains


Gulfstream didn’t feel the legs wrapping around his barrel. He didn’t notice anything, save that his hooves were no longer in the bully’s face. Obscenities too mature for his five years poured out of his mouth unheeded as he was dragged back. “Take it back! Take it back right now!”

His opponent lay in a ball on the floor, sobbing and cradling her bloodied face. Though three years his elder, she’d barely landed a blow on the small red pegasus.

Gulfstream wanted to do more to her. He wanted to do so much more. He squirmed against whoever was holding him back, wings flapping wildly. “Take it back! Take back what you said about Momma!”

“Gulfstream, calm down!”

“No!” Tears formed unheeded rivers down his cheeks as he struggled. “Momma wasn’t a drunk! Momma was a good pony! Take it back!”

Something caught and twisted his ear, delivering a jolt of pain. “I said enough! Don’t make me call Mountain.”

He tried to jerk away from the magical grip, but the pain knocked at least some sense into him. After a few seconds he sagged in the headmaster’s hold like a bag of flour. “Momma was a g-good pony,” he choked out. “D-don’t talk about her that way. She was good.” The pain in his ear faded.

Heavy hoofsteps announced the arrival of the second headmaster. “Another fight?”

“Yes.” Gulfstream was set on the backside of a massive brown stallion. “Can you take him? I need to check on Peaks.”

A mere grunt was the only answer before the giant earth pony turned away. The blurry heads of the other foals followed his departure. Gulfstream was glad he couldn’t see their eyes.

The headmaster took him outside and sat him on a bench under a tree. Mountains covered in thick forest surrounded the quaint village of Foal Mountains. The sky remained overcast and grey, which suited the colt just fine. He fidgeted and rubbed the moisture from his cheeks, sniffing occasionally as his anger subsided to a mere buzz in the back of his mind. All this time the pony at his side, a mountain in his own right, said nothing.

Just when Gulfstream thought he might escape a lecture…

“Your cousin is coming tomorrow.”

Gulfstream gritted his teeth. “Mm-hmm.”

The bald pony wouldn’t look at him. “Do you think she would approve of your violence?”

He jerked his face away from Mountain. “I just wanted to defend Momma.”

“Hmm.” The headmaster’s hum had the rumbling quality of a minor earthquake. “And does fighting solve the problem?”

He nodded his head. “Mm-hmm.”

At last Mountain looked at him, his bright orange eyes contemplative. “And do you feel better now?”

“Sure.” Gulfstream huffed. His wings shifted and he puffed up a little. “I feel lots better.”

Mountain gave another of those throaty hums. “Pheasants always puff up when confronted with an eagle’s talons.”

Gulfstream slunk low and simmered. “Maybe I wanna be the eagle.”

“You only just hatched, little bird,” Mountain countered with unwavering stoniness. “Have you considered that the eagle may regret the kill?”

“That’s stupid. You’re stupid.” Gulfstream dropped from the bench and skulked away. “Eagles don’t care about their food. They’re tough.”

Mountain made no attempt to stop him. “So when your cousin comes for you tomorrow, should I tell her that you beat Peaks and felt no remorse?”

“Yeah, whatever,” he mumbled. “Tell her that.”










July 6, C.Y. 1000
Foal Mountains


A knock on the door pulled his attention from the tin soldier playset. “Hey, Gulfie.”

“Lightning!” Gulfstream’s wings became a red blur as he zoomed across his room and crashed into his cousin, knocking her back into the hallway. He wrapped his hooves around her neck and laughed. “You’re finally here! What took you so long?”

Lightning Dust answered his laughter with her own, squeezing him tight as they rolled on the floor. “By Celestia, you’ve grown! You run into me like that too many times and I may have to go to the hospital.” She sat up and pushed him back with a grin. “How ya doin’, cuz?”

Gulfstream hovered before her. “I’m great! Look, I can fly and everything. I bet I’ll be as good as you!”

“Oh, I dunno about that. Aim high, kid, but not too high.” Lightning chuckled and gestured to her panniers. “I’ve got everything settled. Mountain Mantra and Mrs. Spring made it pretty easy.”

Gulfstream let out a gasp and began flying circles around his cousin so fast he was a red blur. “I’m gonna live in Cloudsdale! This is the awesomest day ever!”

Lightning tried to follow his movements, and soon her body began swaying in a wide circle as her eyes rolled. “Wow, you really are fast.” She shook her head and grinned. “That’s my little cousin colt! You wanna gather up some friends, say your goodbyes?”

“Nope!” He landed atop her shoulders piggyback style. “I’m ready to go. Don’t need those losers.”

Lightning hesitated, her wings twitching half-open. “Oh… okay, then.” She cast her head around, perhaps in search of something. “If you’re really sure?”

Gulfstream rolled his eyes and pulled on Lightning’s ears. “What? They’re just bucking bags. Let’s go!”

“Well, if you say so.” To his dismay, Lightning stepped back into his room. “What about bags? Surely you’ve got something you want to bring with you.”

“Nu-uh. I don’t wanna remember this place.” He gave her ear an even stronger jerk. “Let’s goooooo!”

“Alright, already! Yeesh.” She jerked her head to one side, freeing her ear from his grasp. “No need to act like a whiney filly.”

“I ain’t no filly,” he grumbled as she trotted back into the hall.

He stood tall on her back, chest puffed out and a smug expression on his face. The other foals – the less fortunate – watched them pass with curiosity and… was that relief? He shook off the thought. What did he care about their opinions, anyway? He was going to Cloudsdale, where he’d never have to think of any of them ever again.

Peace Spring, a unicorn with a pink, off-white coat and soft blue mane, was waiting with Mountain Mantra at the bottom of the stairs. Lightning slowed at the sight of them, much to Gulfstream’s chagrin.

“Alright, Gulfstream,” Peace said in her unpleasantly pleasant voice, “you will behave for Lightning, now won’t you?”

“Yessss,” he droned, his eyes rolling so far back his head rolled back with them.

Lightning chuckled. “He’s in good hooves, Mrs. Spring. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“I hope so, Miss Dust. I really do.” Peace’s frown shifted to a smile as she hugged Lightning. “It was good to see you again, Lightning. Tell your father I said ‘hello,’ won’t you?”

“Sure thing.” Lightning gave a respectful nod to the other headmaster. “Mr. Mantra.”

“Lightning.” Mountain Mantra did something that made Gulfstream stare: he smiled. Mountain never smiled! The Gates of Tartarus were more likely to crack open before Mountain Mantra’s grim face. “Tell your mother I’m still waiting for her to take them back. She’ll know what it means.”

“You betcha.” Lightning offered a lax salute. “Maybe next time I’ll bring one of them along. They both miss Foal Mountains.”

Gulfstream began to bob up and down, pressing his forehooves into her back. “Come ooooon, I wanna go!”

Lightning sighed and nodded. “See you guys.”

“Take care, Lightning.”

Gulfstream risked one look back before the door closed. He was just in time to catch the smiles slipping from the headmasters’ faces and a fretful look shared between them. As soon as the door was in the way, he stuck out his tongue.

Good riddance.

“Well, that was quick.”

Gulfstream’s head whipped around to this new, unfamiliar voice. Waiting in the dirt road was a pegasus he’d never seen before. His eyes widened at her multi-colored mane. “Whoa, that’s cool.”

“Well, I hate to brag.” The pony rubbed a blue hoof against her chest. “Ah, who am I kidding?”

Lightning turned so Gulfstream was face to face with the pony. “Gulfstream, meet Rainbow Dash. We work together in the Cloudsdale Weather Team.”

Rainbow nodded, her red eyes taking him in appraisingly. “Nice to meet ya, kid.”

Gulfstream took in her mane, then her gaze, then leaned sideways to examine her wings. She looked… strong. “Are you a good flyer?”

Rainbow burst into laughter. “I like this kid! He’s got his priorities straight.”

“And you bet your feathers she can fly,” Lightning answered, sharing a hoofbump with her friend. “Our squadrons compete all the time. We are gonna waste the competition at this year’s Best Young Flyers Competition!”

“Heck yeah, we are!” Rainbow gave a flap of her wings and struck a confident pose. “First and second place, guaranteed.”

“I don’t believe you.” Gulfstream’s small wings opened with a snap. “Prove it! Race ya to Bluegrass Falls!” He was off in a blur, leaving the two mares behind.

Or so he thought.

“Nice try, featherbrain!” A bolt of lightning flashed by his left.

“Hah! You call that flying?” A rainbow darted by his right.

Gulfstream’s eyes widened as the two wakes faded in the distance. “Whoa…”

Seconds later, the twin streaks banked into wide arcs in opposite directions, steadily turning back towards him. They came side-by-side and began spiraling around one another, only to blast by him so fast that Gulfstream thought the wind had pushed him into a standstill. He found himself inside a tunnel of prismatic vibrancy, electricity crackling about a swirl of colors.

The effect faded, and the two pegasi were abruptly flying on either side of him, both appearing smug.

“How’d you like that?” Rainbow asked.

He looked from her to Lightning and back. His lips broke into a wide grin as excitement coursed through his small body. “That was the awesomest thing I have ever seen!”

Rainbow and Lightning only laughed.









Gulfstream eyed the waterfall, his gaze peering and his wings twitching. It cascaded over a rocky ledge halfway up the mountain, the water upstream following a meandering course along the rocky slopes. The waters didn’t drop very far – only forty feet or so – and the river wasn’t very wide. What made Bluegrass Falls so unusual was the location, situated over a dozen feet along a cliff that left plenty of room for two or three ponies to walk between it and the curved mountain wall.

His ears perked to the sound of Lightning’s muffled laughter. “Come on, Rainbow! Not in front of my cousin.”

His eyes glanced to the rocks beneath the waterfall, just in time to see Rainbow pull her wing away from Lightning’s flank. Both mare’s cheeks were pink and they cast anxious looks his way, but he pretended not to notice. He was too busy glaring at the waterfall and ignoring the anger rising within him, an anger he didn’t understand.

But it was building. It had been for the past couple hours. He’d thought it only his imagination at first – the little glances, the wry smiles, the in-jokes he wasn’t supposed to catch – but that last sight sealed the deal. He knew what he was seeing, what Rainbow and Lightning were up to. He knew he shouldn’t care. It was just a bunch of stupid adult stuff. Stupid, adult and girly stuff. He’d always thought Lightning above that kind of thing.

He did care. It was driving him crazy already, knowing what Rainbow might be doing to his awesome cousin. Yet he didn’t dare show it. No, he would focus on the waterfall. He imagined it being a stream of colors, pretty and athletic and fun.

And girly.

He’d teach it a lesson.

Lightning’s voice caught his ears again, and this time it was taunting. “Oooh, he’s gonna try it.”

“Try it?” Rainbow asked. “Try what?”

“You can do it, Gulfie. Teach that waterfall who’s boss! If I can do it, I know you can.”

A smile wormed its way to his lips and he tensed in anticipation. Lightning thought he could do it. He closed his eyes and recalled the one time he’d witnessed it, the way she’d plowed through. If Lightning said he could do it, then he could do it. He spread his wings, opened his eyes and focused on the waterfall once more. His tail whipped back and forth in anticipation.

“Go!” Lightning began to chant. “Go, go, go, go…” Rainbow chimed in.

A smarmy grin graced his lips. He wiggled, adjusted his stance, began flapping.

He was off, flying in a blur for the bottom of the falls! He dropped low over the river, his barrel just grazing the water’s surface. He had to time it right… now! His flight path arched upwards at a sharp angle. When he reached the falls, he was almost flying straight up.

It was like being hit on the head with cement. The water stung his shoulders and soaked into his wings, but he flapped with all the force he could muster. The weight pushed on him, slowing him down, and he ground his teeth with the effort to push through.

He strained his ears as much as his wings. He could only barely hear Lightning’s and Rainbow’s cheers through the racket of the falls. Lightning was expecting him to succeed. He had to succeed!

But his ascent came to an unsteady halt. He growled and barely heard it. That only made him angrier. It was just water! Why couldn’t he best it? Even as he tried pouring more and more of himself into the flight, all he felt was his body hovering in place and his temper rapidly rising.

And he needed to breathe. He held out for as long as he could, but at last he was forced to pull away. Sucking down long gasps of air, he glared at the water through his tangled red fringe. His hooves shook and his blood boiled, but in his huffing he could offer no words.

“Hey, that was really good!” Lightning was at his side, rewarding his efforts with a grin. “It took me a dozen tries to be able to hold elevation like that.”

“Yeah, that was some kind of awesome.” Rainbow was at Lightning’s side. “Now I’m sorta tempted to try it.”

His glare jumped to Rainbow. She was too busy studying the waterfall to notice. He couldn’t let her try, if Lightning saw her succeed when he couldn’t…

“Hey, Gulfie? You okay?”

He sucked in one last huff of air. “No!” He darted to the water and kicked the falls. “Stupid water! Stupid, stupid, stupid!”

Lightning called out, “Hey, calm down.”

He didn’t listen. He was too busy being pissed at a bunch of stupid liquid to listen. He tried hitting at the falls again, but it was hardly satisfying. “I’m gonna teach you a lesson, you… you…” He shouted and flew through the water. That proved more effective; at least it felt as though the falls were hitting back.

He wanted more of that, so he turned around and flew through again. “Take that, you rotten piece of—”

“Hey!” Rainbow reached out to him. “It’s just some dumb water. No need to—”

“Shut up! I’m not dumb!”

“I didn’t say—”

Gulfstream snarled and went at the falls again. He wanted to hit something, and the water was his best choice. So he turned around and did it again. And again. That wasn’t fast enough, so he began flying in a tight circle, smashing into the falls over and over and over. The droplets stung against his hide, driving him to unleash more of his anger. He pounded, and pounded, and pounded some more!

His body was a blur of motion. His impacts with the wall of water began to feel less like hammers and more like… like tunnels. The wind around him changed quality, cool and sharp and tugging at his feathers. The water no longer battered him.

In anger-driven confusion, he thought he might have lost control of his flight. Yet, as he turned his head to look outside his blurred red circle, he could make out through the swirling world that he still flew beneath the waterfall. Where had the water…

When he looked inside his circle, he got his answer: the water wasn’t hitting him because the wind from his circle was funneling it away. Half the falling water curved into a new path, angled sideways from the original as the winds sent it crashing against the rocks. It was like nothing he’d ever managed before.

And then it dawned on him: he’d won. In his own way, he’d defeated the waterfall. A thrill of malicious victory ran through him, a sense of presence and strength and focused, infallible rightness. He let out a whoop and laughed as the waters bent to his will by sheer force. It felt so good!

Then a jolt of pain ran down his left wing.

He cried out and went flying sideways, all control lost and the world going crazy in his vision. He flew into something soft that wrapped around him like a cocoon, then he hit the surface of the river. He kicked and squirmed. Muddy water swirled all around. He thought he could hear muffled shouting.

Then the water receded. He sputtered and sagged, carried aloft by Lightning. She was saying something, but he couldn’t hear for the ringing in his ears. His world continued to spin even after she set him down the grass and began examining him.

“—hurt? Come on, Gulfie, talk to me. Tell me you’re okay!”

He sucked in a long breath. “That. Was. Awesome!” He leapt into the air and started to spread his wings, but his left one cramped and he fell to the ground on his side. “Ow. Ow. So cool. Ow.”

“Looks like he sprained his wing,” Rainbow said from somewhere behind him.

Lightning grabbed his face and forced him to look her in the eyes. That proved tricky since her eyes wouldn’t stay still and there were three pairs of them, but eventually they righted themselves out. “Gulfstream. Are you okay?”

He grinned. “I’m great. Did you see that?”

Rainbow laughed. “I think he’s just fine.”

“For the moment.” Lightning shook him, albeit gently. “Don’t you ever scare me like that again! What if you had gone flying in the wrong direction, huh? You could have broken your neck on the rocks!”

What was she so upset for? “But I didn’t, and I learned an awesome new trick.”

“New tricks are only great if you can survive to use them again.” Lightning sat back and rubbed a hoof over her eyes. “Geez, Gulfie, you almost gave me a heart attack. What the hay would I tell my parents if their nephew ended up dead before he even got to Cloudsdale?”

“Oh, lighten up, LD.” Rainbow appeared at his side and gave him a playful whack on the shoulder that nearly sent him to the ground. “He came out of it okay, didn’t he? I mean, yeah, it was dangerous, but now he’s learned a lesson.”

Gulfstream pulled himself up, bristling at his fall. He looked up at Rainbow with brow furrowed. “I have?”

Rainbow facehoofed before drawling out, “Nevermind.”

“The lesson,” Lightning said in a lecturing tone, “is to know your limits. You let that trick go on for far too long.”

“Oh.” He cocked his head and rubbed his aching wing. “Yeah, I guess I get that.”

“Good.” Lightning sat up and nodded. “Stick with us, kid. You’ll become an ace flier yet.”

“Yeah,” Rainbow chimed in, “and the next time you try to get a cutie mark, try to be a little less deadly, huh?”

His ears perked. “What?” He bent around and let out a gasp; a dark grey tornado adorned his flank. “That’s… I got my… but I’m only…” He looked up at Lightning and Rainbow, both of whom were grinning. Energy surged through him as realization settled into his mind.

“Yes! I got my—” He threw up his hooves and started to spread his wings. He promptly collapsed to the grass.

“Ow, ow. Best day — ow — ever. Ow.”

The mares could only laugh.
	
> Book III – Gulfstream: Competition
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------




I’m useless at this stuff, so I asked Miss de Lis what I should write about next. She said I should try to figure out “where it all went wrong.” I really like her, but that’s just dumb. Where it all started? Why the buck would I wanna write that? Nopony cares.

Crap. I shouldn’t have written that.

Why does this stupid book have an anti-blot enchantment? You can’t blackwash when





I’m sorry, Miss de Lis! Really! I didn’t mean it! I did mean to throw the book out the window, but I’m really sorry about that, too. Please don’t tell Uncle Fine! I’ll do like you told me to and write about it. I’m a big colt now, I can take it. Just please, don’t tell Uncle      

I forgot. He’s gonna read this later, too.

Crap.

—unsigned, presumed Gulfstream Dust, Book of Shadows XLVIII,
May 30, 1007












August 16, C.Y. 1000
Cloudsdale


Gulfstream marched out of the school, his head held high and his lips tightly sealed. The other foals cast anxious looks his way, but he ignored them, just as he ignored the red slip of paper in his pack. The mere thought of the thing set his mind ablaze; his second one in under a week. He wanted to rip it to shreds, but he learned his lesson from last time and wasn’t about to do it in plain sight of the flight teachers. They watched him like overgrown vultures, and he dared not meet their gaze. The temptation to stick his tongue out at them would overwhelm him if he did.

They had no right to lecture him. They were there to show the feeble foals how to use their wings, and he already could! Like he had to learn the stupid ‘rules of flight.’ That was for amateurs. Why did Aunt Flit make him go to flight school, anyway?

And there was no way he was gonna learn that stupid cheer.

“Well, somepony’s looking all mopey.”

His anger faded, lips switching to a smile in no time. He looked up just as Lightning Dust landed on the edge of the support cloud. “What’s up, kid?”

“Hey, Lightning!” He trotted towards her, his school day already forgotten. “Am I glad to see you.” He glanced around before nuzzling her; no Rainbow Dash this time. He wasn’t about to complain.

“Of course you are, I’m the coolest cousin ever.” Lightning ruffled his mane before looking to the school. She must have seen something bad, because she sighed. “You got another one, didn’t you?”

The anger zapped back into him. “It’s not my fault!”

Lightning responded with a bemused frown.

He growled and waved his hooves back at the school. “It isn’t! I just clipped her. She shouldn’t have been in the way. It’s not like I forced her to crash, she should have used her wings!”

Lightning sighed and rubbed her temples. “Most ponies your age can’t use their wings, Gulfstream. That’s part of why they go to flight school.”

“Well then, they’re just… just stupid.” He stomped, sending a puff of cloud wafting into the air around them. “I can fly, why can’t they?”

Lightning studied him for a moment, her lips twisted into a frown that was caught between concern and frustration. She squeezed her eyes closed for a while, but finally heaved a sigh. “You know what? I’m not gonna deal with this right now. I have something else I wanted to talk to you about. Come on.”

She launched, and Gulfstream followed. He didn’t know what she intended and he didn’t care; as long as they stopped talking about things that made him mad. Which was a lot of things, come to think of it. He glanced back to see the other foals having to be carried on the backs of their parents and siblings and couldn’t resist a cocky grin at their expense. Especially for that wimpy black filly he’d grounded.

It may have been an accident, but it was still funny.









Gulfstream licked another glob of ice cream from his cone before hopping onto the park bench. “Best cousin. Just saying.”

Lightning’s smile was subdued as she joined him, her own ice cream barely touched. Gulfstream hardly noticed, he was too busy trying to use his tongue to coax a large chunk of chocolate cookie out from under the vanilla blob. At last he freed the confection from its frigid prison, only to pull it into his mouth and suck on its chocolaty goodness.

“Hey, Gulfie? I gotta ask a favor.”

“Mmm.” Gulfstream shrugged, his eyes still set on his cone. He kept sucking on the cookie even as he used his tongue to keep the ice cream from dripping onto his hoof.

“You know the Best Young Fliers competition is in two days, right?”

That did it: he promptly swallowed the rest of the cookie and gave her a broad grin. “You bet I do! First place, guaranteed, and I’ll get to watch!” His wings buzzed and he forgot his ice cream up until the chilly drippings began running down his hoof. He gave a small cry and promptly began licking it off.

Lightning chuckled, though it was a quiet sound. “Did you know Nightmare Moon’s gonna be there?”

“Really?” His eyes widened and his heart skipped a beat. He looked up to see if there might be some deception or trick in his cousin’s words.

She nodded, her eyes averted. “Yeah. Scary, huh?”

“Scary? It’s cool.” Gulfstream’s grin came back in full force. “Even Celestia’s scared of her. But not me!” He puffed out his chest, then took a big bite of his ice cream.

Lightning blinked, her ears perking as she stared at him. After a moment she shook herself out of it and smiled. “Well, aren’t you the brave colt? You know she might gobble you up, right?”

“Nuh-uh!” He shook his head and flapped his wings demonstrably. “I’m too fast!”

“Of course ya are, kid.” Lightning rolled her eyes and chuckled. “Alright, one thing down. Now for the other.” She paused, her smile fading as she gazed at something in the distance. After some time she took a small bite of her ice cream, not even noticing how it was melting all over her hoof.

Gulfstream had finished his ice cream and was chewing on the still-crispy cone when she finally spoke up. “Rainbow’s also gonna be at the contest.”

His face scrunched up as he pictured the rainbow-maned mare in his mind. “Uh-huh.”

Lightning finally noticed the state of her ice cream and, with a sigh, tossed it over her shoulder before using one of the napkins they’d acquired to clean her hoof. She did it slowly, as if it were something very important, which was dumb; Lightning didn’t care about being clean. That was Aunt Flit’s job.

“You don’t like Rainbow.”

The cone crunched in his hooves, crumbs and dollops of melted, leftover ice cream falling through the clouds. He gritted his teeth and glared at the mess, if only so he wouldn’t be glaring at her.

“Here.” Lightning pulled his hooves towards her and began cleaning them with the leftover napkins. Her eyes were aimed at his face, but he turned it away. He’d much rather study that uneven patch of cloud.

“Why don’t you like her, Gulfie?”

His head pulled back and he hunched his shoulders with a scowl. Lightning stopped cleaning his hooves. She bent low, trying to look him in the eyes. He refused to let her.

“Please?”

Gulfstream gasped, his anger faded as he turned to stare at his cousin. There was a quiet plea in her eyes that didn’t belong. In an instant, his frustration returned in full force. “Don’t do that!”

Lightning jerked back at his shout. “Do what?”

He jumped to the air and pointed at her with both hooves. “Lightning Dust does not say please!”

“She does when the topic is important enough.” Lightning waved to the spot on the bench he’d just vacated. “Please, Gulfie. Talk to me.”

Gulfstream’s legs trembled. The pained expression on her face made him feel something familiar, something he hated more than anything: sadness. The steady beat of his wings became jumbled as their synchronization failed. Wobbling in midair, he slowly forced himself to land, but on the clouds before her. He wouldn’t let this… this changeling dictate where he should be! He stared at his hooves and fought desperately to hold back tears.

“D-don’t say that,” he mumbled.

Lightning was staring at him. He didn’t have to look up to know it. It made him feel small.

He hated feeling small.

“Gulfie, why do you hate Rainbow?”

His lips curled back in a quiet snarl. “Because you’re my cousin.” He kept his eyes on his hooves, blood boiling. Stupid tears.

“Uh… okay. What does that have to do with Rainbow?”

His eyes jumped to hers even as his legs tensed. “You’re my cousin.”

Lightning sighed and bowed her head. “Gulfstream, I don’t—”

He screamed at her. “You’re my cousin, mine! She’s not cool enough, she’s not good enough! You’re mine!”

“Whoa, Gulfstream, calm down. You don’t have to—”

“Shut up!” He grabbed her leg and pressed his cheek to it, tears streaking his face. He did lower his voice, but it was more because he couldn’t stand his own words. “I know what you’ve been doing together, when you think your parents aren’t looking. Why does she get to spend so much time with you, huh? I don’t wanna share. You’re too awesome to share. She doesn’t deserve you!”

He trembled, his legs wrapped around hers in a vice-like grip. The words echoed in his mind. They angered him. He shouldn’t have said them. He shouldn’t be crying. Cool ponies didn’t cry. Lightning wouldn’t like him anymore if he cried, and then Rainbow would get her all to herself. He clung ever more tightly.

He tensed; Lightning was stroking his mane. He didn’t like it… no matter how good it felt.

“I thought it might be something like that,” she whispered kindly. “I knew you liked me, Gulfie, but geez…”

He growled at her tone and pressed his forehead against her leg. “You’re my cousin. Only mine.”

“And Rainbow’s not gonna change that.” She grabbed him around the waist and lifted him up. He resisted at first, gripping her leg as tightly as he could, but after a few seconds he relented. She set him on the bench next to her, in the warm recess between her foreleg and hind leg, and wrapped a wing around him. It was a familiar position, one she’d put him in before, right after his parents…

“I don’t like this spot,” he grumbled, rubbing his eyes. He stared at his hooves and sniffed a few times.

Lightning’s warm smile appeared in the corner of his eye. “Gulfstream, Rainbow isn’t going to take me away. I’ll always be your cousin, you can count on it, but I can’t spend all my time with you.”

“Can too.”

“Can not.” She nuzzled his forehead. “You’re important to me too. You know that, don’t you?”

His shoulders shook. His eyes burned. Though the anger within wanted him to say no, he instead gave a small nod. “Mm-hmm.”

“And I promise, there’s no way Rainbow will come between the two of us, not ever.” Lightning rested her head on the bench. That was frustrating. It made it hard to not look at her. “You’re my precious cousin colt. Nothing can change that. Okay?”

He stared into her eyes, and though his words choked him he still managed to ask, “But what if she does?”

“She won’t.” Lightning nudged his leg with her muzzle, her smile hopeful. “Come on, kiddo, you know she’s not a bad pony.”

“Is too,” he mumbled. “She makes you do girly things.”

Lightning raised as eyebrow. “What are you talking about?”

He sniffed and rubbed his nose. “I saw you two in the bed. You giggled like a wimpy girl.”

Pink bloomed across Lightning’s cheeks and her eyes went wide. “Uh… Gulfie… what exactly did you see us do?”

He shrugged. “I dunno. You were giggling and nuzzling each other. I got mad and left.”

She released a long, slow breath, but didn’t relax. “Did you tell mom and dad what you saw?” When he shook his head she seemed to deflate, a broad smile forming on her lips. “Good. Wanna make a deal?”

He shrugged once more, his eyes on his hooves.

“If you promise to never tell anypony what you saw me and Rainbow doing, I’ll take that red paper and make it disappear.” She nuzzled his cheek, prompting a smile to finally come to him. “Mom and Dad don’t need to know about it.”

Gulfstream didn’t even have to think about it. “Deal.”

“One condition.” She pressed a hoof to his nose. “You’ve got to try to stop causing trouble.”

His shoulders sagged and he scowled. His words came out with a slight buzzy quality due to her hoof on his nose. “It’s not my fault.”

Lightning's eyes narrowed. “Then no deal.”

He growled and pushed her hoof away with both legs. “You’re supposed to be cool.”

“And you’re supposed to behave.” She sighed and shook her head. “Come on, Gulfstream. My parents jumped through a lot of hoops to get them to let you live with us. You shouldn’t reward them by causing more trouble.”

Gulfstream couldn’t be sure what angered him more; what she said or that he believed her. He always believed Lightning. With a final huff, he lowered his head to the bench and mumbled something.

“What was that?”

“I said ‘okay,’ ” he repeated forcefully. “I’ll… be nicer.”

“Good.” She nodded firmly. “And now, I need a favor.”

He groaned and, without raising his head, glared at her expectantly.

“Rainbow’s going to be in the contest with me.” Lightning leveled him with a firm frown. “I want you to cheer for her.”

“Awwwww, do I have to?”

“I’d like you to,” she said, though her tone was hard. “Rainbow’s not like us, Gulfie. She’s constantly worried about her image. She needs our support.”

“But I don’t want to,” he mumbled, once again staring at his hooves. “What if she wins?”

“What if she does?” Lightning sighed and shook her head. “I want to win, Gulfie, but I’d happily be second place if she was first. She’s my friend. She’d be yours too, if you’d let her.”

He grumbled, pressed a little closer to her and closed his eyes. “No.”

Though he could feel Lightning’s gaze on him, he refused to acknowledge her. She couldn’t force him to be nice to Rainbow. She didn’t deserve it.

“She’d gonna try to do a Sonic Rainboom.”

His ears perked. “She can’t.”

Hope lingered in Lightning’s voice. “I bet she can. If anypony can, it’s her. She did it once.”

“Did not. She lied.”

“How do you know?” Lightning nuzzled him.

“How do you know?” he countered before covering his face with his legs to protect against her pleasant assaults.

“Because I believe in her. I think she’ll pull it off. Come on, Gulfie.” She bumped her muzzle against the barrier of his legs. “For me? Can’t you support her just this once? You gotta admit, a Sonic Rainboom would be all kinds of awesome.”

He shuffled his hooves and cringed; he had to admit, it would. But this was Rainbow Dash, and she was stealing Lightning. Except Lightning had promised. She kept her promises. And if Rainbow could do a Rainboom… well, maybe she was cool enough for Lightning.

Maybe.

The next two words took all his substantial willpower to produce. “I’ll… try.”

Lightning cocked her head to study him, then smiled. It was the kind of smile that left him feeling warm.

“That’s good enough for me.”










August 18, C.Y. 1000
Cloudsdale


“You’re gonna stay right here, right?”

Gulfstream rolled his eyes and batted Lightning’s hoof from his mane. “Yes, LD.” He leaned forward to look out over the cloudiseum. “I can see everything from here!”

“That’s why I picked it.” She grinned and looked out over the scene. The oval structure’s stands weren’t as full as might be expected. “A lot of ponies are gonna be missing out.”

“Yeah.” Gulfie looked around at the empty space around them. “Wonder why.”

Her face shifting to a grimace, Lightning pointed her hoof to the VIP box. “Probably because of that thing.”

Gulfstream turned his gaze to the box. There sat the infamous Nightmare Moon. Even near the opposite side of the cloudiseum, Gulfstream’s keen eyes could make out her straight posture and the cool, scrutinizing expression she wore. Her head turned in slow movements, sweeping the stands like a hawk seeking prey. The idea made him shiver, but not from fear.

He was excited.

Those eyes fell upon him, and his blood chilled. The cat-like irises ceased their scanning and delved into him, and he had absolutely no intention of looking away. Their harshness, their underlying anger, the cool sense of judgement that washed over him… it made his blood boil, and he liked it.

Then the eyes moved on, and the energy left him. He sagged, panting for breath, but he kept watching Nightmare Moon. He hoped she’d look again.

“Goddess…” Lightning shivered and shook out her mane. “That thing gives me the creeps. Why’d they invite her to this, anyway?”

Gulfstream followed the dark alicorn’s gaze and noticed how everypony refused to look towards the VIP box. He could almost see their shivers passing along the stands, like a wave of fear traced by her eyes.

Was he the only one to look? Was that why she’d focused on him a little?

The blaring of trumpets diverted his attention, and all eyes turned up as the announcer introduced the judges for the contest. They flew over the cloudiseum in a perfect ladder formation, each pegasus releasing smoke in his or her wake. Gulfstream felt his heart pound as the Wonderbolts broke formation and began swirling about one another in a complex aerial maneuver that left the crowd cheering. In short order, they’d finished their display and came for a landing in the judged box just beneath the seat of Nightmare Moon. The princess, rather than showing excitement, studied the four figures with apparent curiosity.

“Alright, the show’s about to start. I’ve gotta head backstage and get ready.” Lightning set a hoof to Gulfstream’s shoulder. “I’ll be listening for your cheering, Gulfie. For me and Rainbow.”

He gave a derisive sniff. “Yeah, I got it.”

Lightning didn’t leave, not at first. He could feel her eyes boring into his back; he hunched over and refused to acknowledge her. He relaxed only when he heard her flapping wings fading in the distance.

Satisfied he was finally alone, Gulfstream sat up tall and took in the scene. So few ponies here. He glanced towards Nightmare Moon; was she really that scary? If nothing else, he thought she was rather nice to look at. So look he did, wondering at her starry mane and regal bearing. Had she led warriors into battle? She looked like she could.

She looked cool. Like, “flying over the violent horde, horn shining while her enemies flee before her” cool. Probably with rock music. Gulfstream didn’t know much about her, save that she once fought Celestia for control of Equestria. His mother liked to tell him stories about her, trying to scare him into behaving.

He shivered and drooped; he didn’t want to think about his mother.

But he did want to meet Nightmare Moon. The idea filled him with eagerness, but Gulfstream wasn’t dumb. He couldn’t just fly up to meet her. How did a foal meet the Scourge of Equestria? He cast his eye her way once more and blinked; she was looking at him again.

He looked right back, face slack and eyes wide.

The announcer was speaking, but the words were incomprehensible. The entire world seemed to be little more than background noise, slowly shifting past this weighty moment in time. The light of the world faded into a colorless grey. The cat-like irises of Nightmare Moon held him as surely as any griffon’s claws, talons grasping his throat and restricting his breath.

Gulfstream knew that the appropriate response was fear. The fact hovered in the back of his mind, lingering, teasing, begging, but he ignored it. How could he not? His blood rushed, his heart pounded, his body trembled. He felt alive, and he wanted more.

The connection was cut, like a taut cord snapping. Her face turned away.

In an instant, the world assaulted Gulfstream once more; the roaring crowd, the rambling announcer, even the quiet wind against his ears seemed disproportionately loud. He wobbled and shook his head, once again feeling his energy drain.

“What… was that?” A chill ran down his spine, and he couldn’t tell if it was a pleasant or frightening sensation. He looked to the night princess once more, an eagerness welling within, but her gaze was on the current contestant. She avoided his eye as if he wasn’t even there.

He stared. He stared and stared, but she wouldn’t acknowledge him. Chewing his lip, he leaned forward intently and silently begging for another glance. He didn’t even care about the aerial display over his head. What was a flying competition compared to this? “Look at me,” he hissed. “I want you to look at me. Come on…”

Anger began to grow within him, but before he could properly acknowledge it he felt a tap on his shoulder. He yelped and hopped away, then realized his mistake and turned to face the newcomer with wings flared. “Hey! What’s your problem?”

A royal guard stood before him, tall and imposing. Gulfstream’s eyes went wide at the muscles on the stallion and his golden armor.

But whatever strength the guard seemed to have had paled. He looked at Gulfstream with anxious eyes, his body just a little too fluid. His voice quavered. “Y-you, colt. The princess summons you.”

The air released from Gulfstream’s lungs as though from a popped balloon. He turned his eyes to Nightmare Moon, but still she refused to match his gaze. “R-really?”

“Yes, really.” The guard adjusted his armor and gestured. “Come with me, boy.”

Gulfstream was too dumbstruck to do anything but obey, trotting alongside the stallion as they went to a walkway behind the stands. He glanced back at the cloudiseum just before the arena faded from view. Lightning had told him to stay put, but… he couldn’t ignore the princess, could he? She’d understand. Worry swept over him as he realized he might miss her routine.

The guard must have noticed his worry, for he stopped and turned to Gulfstream. He shuffled in place, eyes dancing about as if afraid somepony might overhear. “Look, colt, if you d-don’t wanna meet her, I understand.”

Gulfstream cocked his head, thoughts of Lightning fading away. “Huh?”

The stallion shivered and flapping his wings. He gestured to the city of Cloudsdale. “You can fly off. I can tell her I couldn’t catch you. Sh-she might have my head, but… but I’m not gonna force you to come. After all—” he swallowed audibly, “—she’s Nightmare Moon.”

Gulfstream understood what the stallion wanted. He looked out over Cloudsdale, at the pegasi flying to and fro on their daily duties. He could disappear there, surely.

Why would he want to?

He glared at the stallion. This was a royal guard? This was the kind of pony that protected Equestria? Gulfstream puffed up his chest and met the guard’s fearful eyes. “I’m not scared. I wanna see her.”

The guard took a deep breath. “Are you sure?”

How could he be such a coward? Gulfstream hopped into the air and hovered just high enough to be at eye level with him. “I’m sure.”

The guard’s eyebrows rose. He considered the colt before him, eyes running along his wings. After a second or two, he nodded and turned to continue walking. “You’re a lot braver than I was at your age. You thinking about joining the guard?”

Gulfstream huffed, crossed his forelegs and floated after the stallion. “I used to.”

It didn’t take long to get to the other side of the cloudiseum. Gulfstream spent the short trip listening to the crowds inside and trying to determine if Lightning had done her routine yet. He was reasonably sure he’d not missed it, yet he still simmered at the thought that it could happen at any moment. The stallion opened his unusually large wings and flew up to an opening in the back of the cloudiseum, and Gulfstream followed.

The two guards just inside the opening eyed Gulfstream as he passed, their expressions unreadable. That was more like it! Gulfstream wondered why the princess couldn’t have sent one of them to talk to him.

“Mind your tongue in here,” the stallion ordered as they paused beside a long white curtain. “The princess may decide to cut it off and eat it.”

Gulfstream’s ears perked and his eyes shined. “Really?”

The guard shot him a raised eyebrow, his confusion apparent. He shook his head and mumbled something about kids before pushing the curtain open and gesturing for him to follow. When he spoke, his voice had become as hard as granite. “The colt, as requested.”

Pushing his way through the curtain, Gulfstream found himself in a room big enough to hold a dozen ponies. Light streamed in from a balcony opening out into the cloudiseum, revealing that the space was almost completely empty save for a few cloud cushions and two guards on either side of the exit. Sitting in the tallest one, her face turned away to watch the competitors, was the Princess of Darkness herself.

Nightmare Moon’s mane and tail wafted about in an invisible wind, but she was otherwise perfectly still. Gulfstream took in her brilliant black wings, massive even when folded. He could only hope he’d have wings half that big when he grew up. Slowly, his gaze followed along her back to the purple cloud of her flank and the moon emblazoned there. He only gazed at it for a moment, perhaps to confirm to his muddled mind that she was who she claimed, before looking at those beautiful wings.

The princess shifted and gestured to the cloud cushion at her left. “Come, young one. Have a seat.”

Gulfstream nodded and stepped forward, approaching the fluffy cloud. It was too tall for him to climb onto, so after a moment’s hesitation he opened his wings and flew himself onto it. Slowly, of course. He looked up at the princess eagerly, but she was still observing the show. She looked harsh, like a wolf watching a bunch of rabbits at play. He studied the curve of her neck, the length of her muzzle, the length of her slender horn. Had she stabbed anypony with that?

Her head turned to him in a single swift motion, and though her muzzle raised imperiously her eyes were upon him. He stiffened as they appraised him, passing up and down his form with those wicked irises. His breath caught in his throat as he awaited her judgement.

But he refused to look away.

Nightmare Moon’s lips curled up on one side of her face, revealing wicked fangs that she traced with the edge of her tongue. “I’m feeling… hungry.”

The guards shifted in place, their armor rattling. Gulfstream considered her words, then remembered what his mother had told him before about Nightmare Night. He couldn’t help but smile. “Then eat something.”

Her tongue paused and her eyebrows rose, the end resulting being an expression of amusement and perplexity. After a moment she closed her lips and returned his smile. “Perhaps I will. What is your name, my brave little pony?”

He sat up tall and puffed out his chest. “Gulfstream Dust.”

“Hmm…” She levitated a small booklet from the cushion beside her and flipped through it. “Ah-ha. So you know Lightning Dust, I presume?”

“Uh-huh. She’s my cousin. She’s gonna win first place!”

“Is she now? You sound certain of that.”

“I am.” Gulfstream nodded emphatically. “Nopony can beat my cousin. She’s the best flier in all of Equestria!”

Nightmare Moon turned her gaze back to the arena as an orange pony zoomed by. “And what would your cousin think if she knew you were speaking with the Scourge of Equestria?”

Gulfstream hesitated, his eyes going to the arena. With the cushion, he was just tall enough to see over the edge of the lower wall. He considered Lightning in his mind’s eye, trying to think of what her reaction might be. “I think… I think she’d be worried.”

Once again, her eyes turned to him. Her words were only a whisper, but there was a wickedness in her tone. “Are you?”

He met her gaze, and once again those eyes bored into him. There, he felt it again! That strange sensation like he was flying through a storm. An exhilaration swept through him, a desire to fly… or fight. He gave an involuntary shiver as the awe consumed his mind. He wanted to speak, to act, to do.

His eyes shifted to her horn, but only for a fleeting moment. The question was on the tip of his tongue. He saw her lips pull back in a fanged grin that had his heart flitting like a hummingbird’s wings. Oh, but he loved this feeling!

“Have you killed anypony with your horn?”

The words seemed to have taken flight of their own accord, and now floated between them like ethereal butterflies. Nightmare Moon’s grin faded, her expression shifting to curiosity. After a moment, the vicious fangs appeared once more. “Once or twice.”

Gulfstream let out a ragged breath, somehow managing to whisper, “That. Is. Awesome.”

Her eyes widened and her face went slack. An instant later, she threw back her head and laughed. “You aren’t afraid of me at all, are you?”

“Afraid?” Gulfstream took an eager step closer, his eyes aglow. “This is the coolest day ever! Is your sword really made of stardust? What about your shield? A shield made of solid night sounds awesome!”

Nightmare grinned, but this time there was no threat in her smile. Her tone grew playful. “Here, try it out.”

With but a blink from her horn, something flashed into existence before Gulfstream. The colt nearly fell off his cushion in surprise, and after recovering he let out a loud gasp; there, hovering before him in an ethereal glow, was the sword of Nightmare Moon itself. The blade glimmered like a million stars, silvery and enticing. His heard pounding, Gulfstream reached forward and touched the hilt, which appeared to be made of pure obsidian. It was smooth to the touch. Reared back, he reached high and felt at the flat of the blade; his hoof dipped into the starry substance before landing on something solid. He could not see through the glimmer to what it was he was touching, but it sent a spike of cold along his leg.

“Wow…”

She gestured invitingly. “Go ahead.”

Ignoring the continuous shifting of the guards, Gulfstream reached out and grabbed the hilt in his hooves. The hold was clumsy, but he still managed to pull the weapon closer to his chest. “It’s so light.”

Nightmare Moon chuckled. “But of course; it is made of starlight.”

Gulfstream adjusted his hold on the weapon and gave a practice thrust, then reared back and tried a downward slash. The movement came out wrong and he nearly fell forward, but used his wings to catch himself. With a giddy giggle, he raised the weapon high. He could imagine himself standing over his defeated foe. Maybe a griffon. Yes, a mighty griffon warrior, brought low by his—

“How did you get your cutie mark, Gulfstream?”

“Huh?” He dropped back onto the cushion, careful to hold the blade forward. He turned to see the princess’s eyes on him. “Why?”

Nightmare smiled, opened her mouth, then pulled back from him with a grunt. She shook her head forcefully and grimaced. Gulfstream watched in fascination and confusion; did her coat just shift colors? He could have sworn it had turned blue for an instant…

His ears perked; the announcer had just called Lightning’s number. The princess fled his mind as he turned, heart leaping into his throat. He hopped forward to sit on the wall of the balcony, a grin spreading across his face as his cousin exploded out of the curtains like her namesake! She turned a wide circle, electricity crackling in her wake over the applauding audience.

Lightning began flying across the stadium, but did so in a rapidly bobbing route that had ponies nodding as they followed her flight path. Her movement was so quick that the electrical streak in her wake still remained when she made a sharp about-face and flew right through it. This created an explosive shower of sparks that rained upon the arena! Gulfstream bounced in place as she flew a rapid loop, then circled around as if to fly through the circle she’d created. Just before she did, however, she came to a sharp stop and fanned her wings in a mighty thrust that made the electric circle erupt in a second shower of sparks over the watching Wonderbolts.

“She is so cool!”

As the crowds applauded and the Wonderbolts took notes, Lightning flew high above the cloudiseum. Gulfstream tensed as her flight path shifted to a wide circle.

“Ooh, this is one of the hard ones…”

Lightning’s flight path was nothing short of flawless. Though her energetic discharge came to a stop, all eyes locked upon her as she kept her body locked in a vertical stance, her wings spread wide. But she didn’t fly up or down; instead, she seemed to outright float in a wide circle, her descent slow and gradual as she spun like an airborne top.

Nightmare Moon hummed. “I must admit, I’m impressed. I’ve not seen an aerial pirouette in a very long time, and certainly not used like that.”

“She is the best,” Gulfstream insisted, not taking his eyes off his cousin. His wings had opened at some point during the display, but he didn’t bother to close them.

He knew what was coming next.

Lightning completed her third lap of the cloudiseum, having fallen about halfway down the structure, but now she pulled out of the graceful descent and darted for the center of the arena. When she got there, her lightning wake was replaced by a black cloud. She’d explained to Gulfstream just how she this did once – something to do with speed adjustments, air densities and precise timing with the wings – but it was beyond him. All he knew was that most pegasi couldn’t produce any physical wake at all, and his cousin could make two.

Lightning’s flight path descended in an ever-widening circle, the smoke behind her crackling with energy. Within seconds she’d formed a veritable pyramid of smoke, the pony herself lost to the darkness. Gulfstream rocked back and forth, his eyes on the strange new cloud formation and his ears perked. “Come on, LD, you can do it. I know you can…”

Then he saw it; the pyramid began to turn in place. It twisted and shook, the electricity within sparking in small eruptions as the clouds began to close in on themselves like an implosion in slow motion. Their speed picked up, the bottom began to curl under the formation…

And then Lightning erupted from the top of the formation, followed by a blast of electricity that sent jolts flying high above the cloudiseum. She came to a stop, posing with wings spread wide as the bolts continued to flash all around her in a steady stream of sparks. Gulfstream outright screamed her name as the ‘Lightning Volcano’ erupted in all its glory, setting every pony’s hair standing on end and covering the sky in a brilliant aural display that didn’t end until the last of the great cloud had dissipated into the still air.

Ponies all across the cloudiseum were in the air, cheering and clapping and screaming for an encore. Pride swelled within Gulfstream; he could almost see the other contestants defeated faces. Especially Rainbow’s. He laughed and waved his hooves, but Lightning was already on her way back to the contestants’ box.

His hoof stopped moving of its own accord.

“I would appreciate you not waving that around so carelessly.”

Gulfstream looked up and realized he still had Nightmare Moon’s sword in hoof. He blushed and let it go, settling back down on his cushion and taking a moment to get the excitement out of his system. When he next looked up, the weapon was gone. He felt a twinge of regret over that, but it lasted only a second. He turned to the princess with a grin.

“Wasn’t that awesome?”

She chuckled and nodded. “Your cousin is very talented. Barring any unexpected surprises, she’s the clear choice as the contest’s winner.”

“I know!” Gulfstream bounced a few times and turned his attention back to the arena. “We don’t even have to watch the rest of the contest. She’s got this!”

“In that case, I would ask you to do something for me.”

He paused at her curious tone. When he turned to face her, he found himself caught once more in the power of her eyes. His jaw went slack, along with his wings and shoulders. There it was again, that powerful grip on his throat. But this time was different; it wasn’t the claws of a griffon threatening to squeeze the life out of him, but a tender caress. It felt so… soothing.

Gulfstream relaxed, his mind at ease and his body light.

“Now,” Nightmare purred, “I want you to tell me how you acquired your cutie mark. Tell me the whole story. Remember it like you are there.”

And he did. Gulfstream’s mouth opened and words poured out, with no thought at all towards stemming the flow. He spoke of his last day at the orphanage, of flying with Rainbow and Lightning, of his anger and jealousy towards the blue pegasus. He described the waterfall and his attempt to repeat Lightning’s trick, the rage he felt when he failed. His heart swelled as he recounted his battle with the water and the way he diverted its path.

Then… there was a cutie mark.

Nightmare Moon hummed once more, her lips curled in a thoughtful smile. It was only then that Gulfstream noticed how he was curled up next to her on her cloud. When had he done that? His cheeks burned and the pleasantness of his mind faded. He stared at his hooves and stammered an apology.

“It’s alright, my little pony.” Nightmare rubbed a hoof between his wings, her tone kind. “I liked your story, Gulfstream. Yours is a fine cutie mark. I think that you will make for a great warrior someday.”

His head jerked up, ears perked and eyes wide. “You think so?”

“Oh, yes.” She nodded with a fanged smile. “I see great things in your future. Do you want to be a warrior, Gulfstream?”

He jumped to his hooves. “Yes! I do, Princess, I really do!”

“That is good to know. I—” Nightmare Moon cringed, her body stiffening.

Gulfstream’s ears went flat. “Princess?”

“I’m… fine. Just an old nuisance that occasionally arises.” She turned her face away and mumbled something. Her words were indecipherable, but her tone was harsh. When she turned back to him, her eyebrows rose at his concerned expression. “What?”

He sat back and looked into her eyes. “Can I help?”

The princess stared at him, seemingly perplexed. “I… no, little one. I am fine. There’s no need to fret over me.” Her ear flicked and she turned her gaze to the arena. “Ah, I believe your rival is about to go on.”

Gulfstream groaned, but turned to watch regardless. He had promised Lightning, hadn’t he? Yet try as he might, he could conjure no enthusiasm as Rainbow Dash made her appearance from the curtains. “She’s gonna blow it.”

“Your confidence in her is reassuring,” Nightmare Moon said, sarcasm dripping from her tone.

Despite Gulfstream’s doubts, Rainbow passed the first part of her routine without difficulty, flying a complex obstacle course that he begrudgingly admitted showcased her high speed agility. He grumbled as she flew towards a trio of clouds; Lightning didn’t need props. Even so, there could be no denying that a single pony spinning three clouds was impressive. Frustratingly so. Gulfstream hissed under his breath that he could do that trick… or would be able to eventually. Surely his cutie mark made it so.

But Rainbow, it seemed, could not; something went wrong while she was behind one of the clouds. It careened from its proper place and slammed into one of the others, which flew right at the VIP box. Gulfstream saw Rainbow rocketing sideways, flapping wildly to regain control of her flight. He had more important things to worry about, though… like the giant cloud heading his way.

It was just a cloud. It might be a solid pegasus cloud, but still just a cloud. Nonetheless, Gulfstream felt the urge to act and promptly jumped onto the wall between Nightmare Moon and the swirling vortex of condensed air. “Don’t worry, I’ll—”

Two things happened at once. The first was Gulfstream’s sudden understanding that, for all his bravado, he’d never be able to stop a cloud that big moving that fast.

The second was Nightmare Moon’s horn appearing over his shoulder, vibrant with dark energies that sent tingles running up and down his body. He jumped with a yelp as a streak of black lightning flew from it, striking the cloud and disintegrating it into vapor. His hooving lost, he tumbled backwards into the VIP box only to be caught halfway down by a dark aura of magic.

“Are you hurt, Gulfstream?”

Face burning, he struggled to right himself. “N-no, I’m okay.” As soon as he’d been deposited back to the cushion, he grumbled, “Sorry, Princess.”

“Don’t be, my little pony.”

His ears perked; that sounded like the princess, but… not the princess? He looked up to find the cat-like irises missing, replaced by normal cyan eyes brimming with kindness.

Then the princess blinked, and the thin irises were back. As was the strong voice. “You should be more cautious, little colt.”

“I… I will be.”

Gasps filled his ears, and the two of them turned to look out over the arena. Rainbow had flown high so that she was only a speck in the distance, but now she was diving. Fast.

Gulfstream couldn’t help it; his pulse quickened. He leaned forward, eyes wide as he saw the cone forming around her. “She’s gonna try. A Sonic Rainboom!”

“A what?” Now even Nightmare Moon leaned forward, her eyes set upon the descending pegasus. “Nopony has performed one of those in six centuries.”

Thoughts poured through Gulfstream’s mind as he watched, most of them questions. Did he want Rainbow to succeed? It would be pretty cool if she did. Cool enough to be with Lightning? Would he be okay with that? Should he be rooting for her? Lightning wanted him to. Maybe if she failed, Lightning wouldn’t want to be her friend anymore. That was a good thing, right? But she’d probably be sad, too. Maybe he should—

The entire world let out a collective gasp; Rainbow had stopped mid-flight. The cone of air around the pegasus snapped back, and Rainbow zipped through the sky like she’d been fired from a slingshot. He couldn’t tell if her cry, just audible in the distance, came from frustration, despair, fear… or all of the above.

Laughter rippled through the audience. Gulfstream couldn’t help but chuckle and wonder what he’d been so worried about. Of course she wasn’t going to pull it off! His amusement faded when he noticed the streak of lightning following after the tumbling pony. He winced as he imagined Lightning’s pained face at that moment.

A faint hum drew his attention to Nightmare Moon, who peered at the scene with an intense focus. Gulfstream glanced between her and the two dots in the distance. “What’s wrong, Princess?”

“She almost had it,” she whispered, her voice contemplative. “With a little adjustment…” Her lip pulled back into her one-sided, fanged smile. “I want to meet this pony.”

“Rainbow?” Gulfstream gawked at her, not phased at all when she turned those sharp eyes upon him. “But she failed! Why would you want to talk to her? She’s a loser.”

“For now.” Nightmare’s gaze went back to the two pegasi in the distance, who were now returning to the cloudiseum. “She may become something more in time.”

“But… but Lightning won!”

“Of course she did.” Nightmare stood from her cushion, her smile growing playful. “Come then, little colt; let us greet the winners.”

Gulfstream cocked his head in uncertainty before following her out of the room.









Gulfstream had cheered just as loudly as anypony else when it was announced that Lightning had won the competition. She looked so proud, standing atop the podium… up until she realized that her laurel crown was to be set upon her head by Nightmare Moon. The mare had trembled like a leaf before the alicorn’s looming presence, which Gulfstream found just a little odd.

But not so odd as what happened next.

“Gulfie!” Lightning stood over him, crown still on her head and eyes wide. “You mean you’ve been sitting with the princess for the whole contest? I was worried sick when I didn’t see you in the stands!”

He hunched back at her anger and pointed a shaky hoof towards Nightmare Moon. “It’s not my fault, cuz! She told me to come, honest.”

Lightning’s face twisted into an ugly grimace as he’d never seen on her before. “I’ve known you to be many things, Gulfstream Dust, but I never thought you were a liar. When I get your flank home I’m gonna—”

She froze as a dark hoof touched her shoulder. “Please, Miss Dust, restrain yourself. Your dear cousin speaks the truth.”

Lightning whipped around and bowed so quickly her crown fell off her head. “P-Princess! I’m sorry if he bothered you, I promise to—”

“Miss Dust?” Nightmare Moon’s smile was taunting. “Breathe.”

Lightning sat up and did as she was told, taking several heaving breaths. She never quite relaxed, but at least she seemed less tense to Gulfstream’s eye. He saw the princess’s gesture and eagerly trotted to her side. She ran a hoof from between his ears and down his back in one slow, fluid motion that left a pleasant sensation. Were he a cat he might have purred, but he wasn’t a cat, so he settled for a grin.

“I was feeling a little lonely in my box, and your cousin caught my eye.” The princess turned her smile back to Lightning, whose eyes constantly danced between her and Gulfstream. “I summoned him to me. I assure you, he was no trouble. In fact, I quite enjoyed our brief time together.”

“Really?” Lightning shook her head before offering a fragile smile. “I mean, glad to hear it! Uh, your majesty.”

Nightmare Moon nodded, then turned her eyes to the crowds. “Now, where is that friend of yours? Rainbow Dash, I believe it was. I would like to meet her, as well.”

“Rainbow? Why would you…” Lightning paused, her eyes going to Gulfstream and the hoof still rubbing between his ears. His tongue lolled out as he moaned pleasantly from the attention.

Lightning swallowed audibly. “I-I’ll get her.”

A few moments later, she returned at a trot with Rainbow following behind. The blue pegasus’s head hung low as she gazed up at the noble princess before her. “H-hello, your majesty.” She dropped to a bow, her bloodshot eyes set on the clouds. “You w-wished to see me?”

Nightmare Moon’s tone was pleasant. “Please, Miss Dash, stand. I would look into the face of one so daring.”

Rainbow did as she was told, her face coated in confusion. “Daring? Me?”

“Why yes.” Nightmare nodded. “Few are the ponies who would dare to attempt such a stunt as the rainboom. I understand you’ve done it before?”

With a blush, Rainbow rubbed the back of her head and averted her eyes. “Well, yeah, but I was just a filly. Nopony believes the story anyway.”

“I do.” Nightmare leaned forward, catching Rainbow’s gaze. “I have seen the Sonic Rainboom performed in the past. I can assure you of this much, Miss Dash: you were very close to succeeding. If you had, you may well have placed first in this contest, rather than sixth.”

Rainbow’s lips flipped to a grin. “I knew I was close. I could feel it, it was right there!” Then her frown came back, although now it was contemplative. “But I don’t get it. Aside from my first routine, I did terribly. How did I even land in the top ten?”

“I imagine that is because the Wonderbolts value effort.” Nightmare’s hoof left Gulfstream’s head, and he sagged with a tired, woozy smile. “From my little source here, I believe you are set to do great things in your future.” Her eyes shifted to Lightning, who abruptly stood straight. “If you can handle the competition.”

Lightning flinched and smiled at the attention. She didn’t notice Rainbow’s grimace.

Gulfstream did. He knew what was going through her mind, and though he didn’t blame her it still irked him. He looked around and discovered the laurel crown lying in the clouds between Nightmare Moon’s hooves. Snatching it up, he flew over to his cousin and planted it firmly on her head. “I knew you’d win, cuz.”

He made sure to smirk at Rainbow. She responded with a glare.

Which shifted to a grin the instant Lightning looked her way.
	
> Book III – Gulfstream: Building with Broken Glass
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------




Rainbow Dash. As gross as it is, I have to admit that Lightning loved her. I don’t know why, and I never will. Even after, I don’t think she ever stopped caring about that featherbrain. I always knew Rainbow would amount to nothing, but still Lightning put her faith in her.

It was stupid. Lightning was stupid.

But I still felt bad for her. I was always so mad at Rainbow but, for Lightning’s sake, I thought I could put up with her.

Guess I was stupid, too.

—Gulfstream Dust, Book of Shadows XLVIII,
May 31, 1007












January 9, C.Y. 1002
Cloudsdale


Gulfstream stared out the window of his cloud home, eyes set upon a lone figure laying on a stray cloud. His lips set in a frown as he considered the situation, trying not to let his anger get the best of him this time. The sun was setting, casting the city of Cloudsdale in a fiery orange glow, but Lightning didn’t move from her cloud.

He didn’t like seeing her like this. It made him want to hit something, but Lightning said that attack wasn’t always the best course of action. Besides, what would he attack? The window? He wasn’t about to make her replace another one.

So instead he did the only thing he could think of: he grabbed his jacket and stepped out into the cold winter air. It took him only a moment to gather up a small cloud and bring it alongside hers. He sat down and observed his cousin.

Lightning lay flopped on her barrel, fringe hanging over her glassy eyes. She stared at nothing, her gaze lingering on some distant goal. Her posture was increasingly familiar to him; the slumped form, the limp wings, the subtle pout. Lightning Dust wasn’t supposed to pout. She was supposed to smile, always. He hadn’t seen her smile in so long…

“Lightning?”

The mare’s eyes drifted over to him, then back to the far away nothingness. “Hey, Gulfie.”

He followed her gaze for a moment, looked back at her. “I don’t think she’s coming today.”

Lightning merely grunted, her body as limp as ever.

He leaned over to nuzzle her shoulder. “You should come in. It’ll be dark soon.”

“There’s still some daylight left.”

“C’mon, Lightning. Please?”

Silence lingered between them for some time, Gulfstream staring at her and Lightning not moving an inch. He huffed and turned to glare at the city below. Maybe he should have stayed inside and hit something. At least the ruckus would have drawn her attention.

“Gulfie?”

He grunted.

“What’s it like to always be mad?”

He turned back to her, ears perked, but she continued to gaze at the dusk skyline. He thought on the question for a while, not at all certain why she would ask it in the first place. “I dunno. It’s like… like you’ve always got a fire and you’re dying to put it out. No, that’s not right.” He rubbed the side of his head as he thought. “I’m trying to let it out?”

Lightning’s eyes shifted to him but, once again, it was only for an instant. “I wanna put the fires out, y’know? Why is that so hard?”

Gulfstream cocked his head. “Uh, I don’t think you can put mine out.”

No response. Lightning closed her eyes and shivered.

Gulfstream considered her, watching as the orange light of the sun tinted her body. Their shadows grew longer, his heart grew heavier, his anger simmered. At last he opened his wings and took off. He made his way east, fully expecting her to try to stop him.

She didn’t, and that only made him worry even more.









It didn’t take long to reach the edge of the city, and finding a rainbow-trailed pony performing stunts was foal’s play. Gulfstream landed on a cloud and watched Rainbow Dash in the faint light that remained. Just the thought of her left his blood boiling, and he was tempted to turn around and go home. Lightning would probably be worrying about him right now.

Or would she? She seemed so preoccupied lately…

And Gulfstream knew the cause of it. So, with the fire burning dimly in his gut, he set off to catch the ever-moving Rainbow. It wouldn’t be difficult; for all her turns and loops and corkscrews, she never moved very far in any one direction. Catching her attention wasn’t hard, either. All he had to do was predict what cloud she intended to bust in a few seconds, land on it, and wait for her to notice him.

Rainbow was nothing if not predictable.

She’d also apparently forgotten how to stop mid-air, because when she saw she was about to plow into him she chose to divert her course and barely miss him rather than slow down. Gulfstream ducked, the wind of her passing flowing through his mane and feathers, and turned in time to see her spiral directly into a large cumulonimbus below. Taking a moment to still his heart, he flew down to land just as her head popped out of the fluffy substance.

“Gulfstream!” she snapped, extracting herself from the cloud. “Are you crazy? We could have both been seriously hurt. What the hay are you doing out here?”

“Looking for you.” He sat on the cloud and shivered in the chill air.

She followed his example, flapping a few times and settling a stern look his direction. “You don’t even like me. Hay, you hate me. Why would you come all the way out here just to find me?”

He snarled, wings snapping open, but the image of Lightning came to mind and he forced himself to calm down. It took a few seconds to get his wings back to his sides. “Lightning was waiting for you.”

Rainbow recoiled, her wide-eyed gaze turning west. “Sh-she didn’t follow  you out here, did she?”

“Hmm?” He followed her example, then examined her posture. “Don’t think so.”

With a relaxing sigh, Rainbow nodded and turned back to him. She fidgeted, worked her lips and shuffled her wings. “Look, Gulfstream, you shouldn’t be out here. LD’s gonna be worried.”

This time there was no containing it; he jumped to his hooves, wings spread wide and teeth bared. “Do you even like Lightning anymore?”

Once more, she pulled back. It only served to anger him even more. He snorted and waited for an answer.

It seemed to take ages to come. “Of course I do. I just… I’m not…”

“What?” he demanded. “Not what?”

At last she gained some of her old fire back, stomping and leaning over him. “This isn’t something a nine-year-old needs to be thinking about! Go home.”

He met her glare for glare. “No, not without you.”

“Gulfie—”

“Don’t call me that!”

He leaped into the air, hoof pulled back, but caught himself. Hovering before her startled face, he ground his teeth together and imagined the sheer pleasure he’d feel if he could hit her once, just once. He couldn’t think of any pony he’d rather do it to.

But Lightning wouldn’t want that. So, though it took every ounce of willpower he had, he backed away and landed, planting his hoof firmly on the cloud. “Don’t call me that,” he growled. “Only Lightning can call me that.”

Rainbow observed him, her anger faded to a grim sadness that shined in her eyes. It reminded him of the sadness he saw in Lightning, so he turned away.

“You really do hate me, don’t you?”

He hunched forward with a pout. “Uh-huh.”

“And yet you still want me to be with Lightning?”

“Mm-mm.” He huffed and refused to look at her. “But I don’t want her to be sad, either.”

The shadows stretched as he waited for her to respond. The only sound was the wind in his ears, ruffling his feathers and making his mane wave into his eyes.

“You’re rough around the edges, Gulfstream,” Rainbow whispered, “but you’re not a bad kid, y’know that?”

He gritted his teeth and said nothing, absolutely refusing to look up when she sat next to him.

“Alright, you win. I’ll go. But… I don’t think you’ll be any happier.”

With a sigh, Gulfstream began to hover, turning west. “I don’t care. It’s LD I’m worried about.”









The flight back was made in silence, neither Gulfstream nor Rainbow interested in discussing things. Despite his desire not to, he kept glancing back at Rainbow, half-expecting her to have something to say. She never looked back, though. Instead she kept her eyes forward and hard. He didn’t like that expression on her face. He’d seen it in her and Lightning enough times, and sometimes in the mirror. It meant she was determined to do something, and nothing would stand in her way.

Second thoughts nagged at him the whole way home. He wished he and Lightning still lived with her parents. They were a bit too nice for his tastes, but at least they were good at calming ponies down. Why he thought that would be necessary, he couldn’t say. He just knew that he was very uncomfortable right now.

Maybe going to fetch Rainbow had been a bad idea after all.

Night had fallen by the time they made it home, but the cloud patio of Lightning’s place glowed with magical night lights. Gulfstream was glad she always kept them on. It reminded him of a lighthouse bringing him back to salvation. Even so, he hesitated at the door, and it was Rainbow who knocked.

Lightning’s voice pierced the door. “Gulfstream, that better be you, or so help me—” The door opened, and her mouth paused mid-word. “Rainbow?”

Rainbow’s expression hadn’t lost an ounce of its hardness. “Hey, LD. I—” Her words were muffled when Lightning abruptly embraced her. Her eyes went wide and her cheeks turned red. Gulfstream thought he’d be sick, so he promptly marched inside.

But he didn’t go away. He just hid himself behind the corner of the hall. He wasn’t sure Lightning even noticed him.

“Where have you been?” Lightning asked. “You said you’d come by after work today.”

Rainbow’s response came slowly, like she was thinking carefully on her words. “I decided to train. Can I come in?”

“ ‘Can I come in?’ RD, you know you don’t have to ask.” A few seconds of silence, followed by the door closing. When Lightning spoke again, it was with trepidation. “Rainbow, what’s going on?” There was a long pause. “Wait, did you see Gulfstream?”

“Look, I’ve got a problem.”

Gulfstream peeked around the corner. Rainbow was sitting before Lightning, her expression as determined as ever, her posture as stiff as rocks. Lightning, on the other hoof, was fluid in her anxiety, and looked as if she might start panicking at any moment. The sight brought that fire back in his gut, but he held back; this was between them.

“Okay.” Lightning’s voice was so quiet he barely heard it. “You’ve got a problem. I… I’ll listen, Rainbow.”

Rainbow opened her mouth, paused, closed it again. Her stony manner cracked at last, with her eyes shifting away from her marefriend. “It’s funny, I spent all that time thinking about how to say it on the way over here, but…” She sucked in a long breath. “I need to be the best.”

Lightning blinked. She cocked her head. “I don’t follow.”

“I know,” Rainbow grumbled. “Give me a sec.” She turned her grimace away, only to meet eyes with Gulfstream. They stared at one another for several seconds, and Rainbow didn’t lose that angry expression. For once, Gulfstream had no idea how to react, so he just stared right back.

She turned back to Lightning, head held high. “This has to stop.”

The change in Lightning was subtle on the outside; a catch in her breath, the slightest widening of the eyes, a sudden tenseness in the wings. Subtle, but to Gulfstream she might as well be screaming.

“W-what do you mean?”

“I mean… I’m not gonna be hanging around anymore.” Rainbow closed her eyes. The stiffness in her stance did nothing to hide the tremble of her lips. “I’ve gotta be the best, and I… can’t. Not at this. Not with you.”

Lightning leaned forward, a plea in her eyes. “The best at what? Rainbow—”

“I don’t like it either,” Rainbow snarled, pulling away when Lightning tried to move closer. “I’m supposed to be the best. I want to be the best. I should be the best. But next to you, what am I? Not even a second place. I’m a bucking sixth!”

“Sixth?” Lightning’s concern shifted to confusion. “The contest was almost two years ago now. What does it have to do with anything?”

“Everything!” Rainbow turned away, and Gulfstream backed into the hallway. “Ever since that day, I understood the difference between us. You’re better, LD. In every conceivable way, you’re better.”

Lightning at last found some energy; her next question was laced with irritation. “Is that why you’re trying to break up with me? Because I just so happen to be a slightly better athlete?”

Rainbow’s answer came quickly. “No! A-and… and yes. I have to be the best I can be just to keep up with you. Don’t get me wrong, it’s great that you’re so good, but… but I need to be better.”

A snort revealed Lightning’s growing frustration. “That’s a really stupid reason to break up with somepony.”

“I know,” Rainbow whispered. “I know it’s arrogant and… and dumb. I’m being a featherbrain. B-but, Lightning, I—”

“We’ve had one another’s backs for three years, Rainbow. Three. You think I didn’t know you were an attention hound? Do you know how hard I worked to feed that?”

“It’s not about being an attention hound!”

Gulfstream winced at his cousin’s shout. “Then what is it about, huh?”

“It’s about… I mean…”

“And do you really think I wouldn’t notice if something was wrong?” Lightning’s voice only grew louder. “The way you’ve been avoiding me? How you don’t show up when you say you will? Yet every time I try to talk about it, you dodge and stutter and go do something else. By the Sun in the sky, Rainbow, I bought this space thinking we’d be living together, and where have you been, huh?”

The doubts returned to Gulfstream’s mind as he listened to her heavy breathing. Maybe bringing Rainbow here had been a bad idea. As much as he liked to think of her squirming… Lightning had to have been holding that in for a while. If this went the wrong way… or the right way? Or…

What did he even want to happen?

He couldn’t be sure anymore.

Rainbow’s growl pulled him from his thoughts. “I know that’s what you hoped. It’s what I wanted too. But dang it, Lightning, I can’t compete with you.”

“Why is everything a competition for you? Can’t you look past it for this one thing? It’s not like this could be the most important decision of your life, y’know.”

Gulfstream peeked. He shouldn’t have, he didn't want to, but at the same time, he had to. What he saw was two full grown mares, standing apart, wings spread aggressively, and both on the verge of tears.

He really wished he hadn’t brought Rainbow home.

“You wanna know w-why I can’t look past it?” Rainbow’s voice was quiet, but the fire in her glare told of a barely-contained explosion. “You wanna know why, everytime I look at you, I feel a twist in my gut?”

Lightning snorted, steam rising from her nostrils.

Rainbow took a long breath. And another. With the third, she managed to speak. “It’s because every time I do, I realize how incredible you are. Then I realize I can’t match you. And then…” Her shoulders set, her wings stiffened. “Then I realize that I’m not good enough for you.”

Though her dark expression didn’t fade, Lightning blinked. “Good enough… for me. Is that what’s got your tail all in a knot?”

“And I’m not saddling you with a substandard marefriend.” Rainbow made for the door. “S-so that’s it. It’s done.”

But Lightning stepping into her path. “Oh, no. We aren’t done. We’re not even close to done! Don’t you think it’s up to me whether you’re good enough or not?”

“Get out of my way, LD.”

Lightning puffed out her chest and stood firm before Rainbow, her eyes offering steadfast resistance. “No. I love you, Rainbow, and I’m not letting you make this mistake.”

“No, you put up with me.” Rainbow advanced another step, lips pulled back. “Get out of my way, or I’ll make you.”

“I think we’ve already established who the stronger of us is, RD.”

Gulfstream watched, his body low and his wings wide open. He wanted to be angry; anger would be so much easier than dealing with this tension. If he could pull away from the corner and run to his room… even that cowardice would be better than watching this. His hoof came up and he began to chew on it, eyes wide and heart pounding.

The two mares just stared at one another, one puffed up and making an insurmountable obstacle, the other poised for attack. The standoff seemed to take an eternity. Gulfstream could almost feel time passing, immeasurable but grinding. He didn’t know whether to scream at them or start crying.

“I hate you.”

He gave a small gasp as Rainbow at last broke the silence.

“I love you so much I hate you,” she hissed. “You stand there and tell me what I’m gonna do, and why? Because you’re stronger than me? Well guess what, Miss Holier-Than-Thou, you just proved my point.”

Lightning said nothing, but there was a shift in her eyes. It was as clear to Gulfstream as a lighthouse in the night; uncertainty.

“You’ve gotta constantly hold my hoof,” Rainbow pressed. “’Cause I’m the ‘lesser’ of the two of us. You think you know what’s best for me. For everypony. It’s so easy when you’re on top of the gene pool, ain’t it?”

“Rainbow—”

“No.” Rainbow raised herself up to her full height, the aggression having fled from her pose… but not her eyes. “You condescending jerk. That’s how it’s always been, hasn’t it? The Best Young Fliers Competition just clarified things. Admit it, Lightning; when I failed the rainboom, you flew after me because poor, weak, feeble Dash would never get over that failure without you. You had to show up and shove your stupid face in it, just to remind me who my superior was.”

“You… I…” Lightning’s lips worked, strange sounds rising from between them. She looked so angry… but confused too.

Rainbow pressed her attack. “That’s why I hate you, you and your righteousness. For all your skills and bravado, inside you’re nothing but a snob, staring down your muzzle at us ‘lesser’ ponies and wondering whether you should deign to mingle with us today. And me? You keep me around as a joke, so that everypony who sees us will be able to recognize just how much better you are compared to them. After all, only a truly good pony would lower her standards like that, right?”

“Sh-shut up…”

“A truly superior pony, one that everypony else has no choice but to look up to. That’s what I am to you, Lightning. Well I’m sick of it. I’m sick of being the lowly sixth place you parade around for the sake of your ego. I’m done, and you can rot in Tartarus.”

Rainbow stepped around Lightning… who did nothing to stop her. Even as she walked outside and closed the door, Lightning did nothing. She stared at the empty space before her, still puffed up, anger shining from her moist eyes. Gulfstream couldn’t keep staring; he retreated back into the hallway and tried to control his panicked breaths.

There was a quiet poomph sound, like something falling on the soft cloud floor.

Then came the sobbing.









It was quiet that morning. Gulfstream hadn’t slept much at all, and when he did it he kept dreaming of Lightning and her sobs. He wished he could be mad. He should be angry. Rainbow was the one who’d been a jerk, he should be thinking about kicking her teeth out. Yet no matter how hard he tried, the frustration wouldn’t come. It made him feel weak.

So now he stood outside Lightning’s room, staring at the half-closed door and the bed he could just see at this angle. If he turned his head a little, he could see the lump under the covers. It offered not a sound; if it weren’t for the steady rise and fall of her breathing, Gulfstream might have thought her dead. He glanced at the window and the shadows that it conjured. It would be noon soon.

As hard as he fought it, he knew he would have to do something. Something hadn’t done much of anything the first time… but he still had to try, didn’t he? So, with a heavy heart, he slipped through the open door and crept up on the bed. Carefully, he reared up and looked over the side.

Lightning’s face lay on its cheek, surrounded by sheets like a turtle barely poking its head out of its shell. Her bloodshot eyes were wide open, and they fell upon him instantly. That was the only sign she’d noticed him, for her gaze remained vacant, her expression lost. The sight twisted his heart and he nearly fled the room then and there.

But he didn’t. He stared at her, wondering what she was thinking. Wondering if she was alright.

His mouth felt parched, but he still managed to squeak out, “Lightning?”

Gradually, her far off gaze shifted to something more… direct. Now she really was looking at him. Her lips opened, then closed again. He saw her swallow. She spoke in a scratchy voice. “Gulfie?”

He set his chin to the cloud mattress. “Mm-hmm.”

It took time for her to speak again. “Aren’t you supposed to b-be at school?”

“Mm-hmm. Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”

Lightning didn’t answer. She merely stared… then closed her eyes. Tears fell down her cheeks.

A shudder ran through Gulfstream’s small body, and he promptly climbed onto the bed to nuzzle her. “I’m sorry, Lightning. It’s my fault and I’m sorry.”

Her legs flew out from under the covers. Before he knew it, he was held against her chest in a breath-stealing grip.

“She left me, Gulfie. Sh-she left me!”

He wanted to respond, but didn’t know how. Besides, he could barely breathe, much less talk.

Lightning set her chin atop his head as she quietly wept. “I sh-should have seen it coming. Three years, Gulfie. H-how did I miss it? Why didn’t I know how she felt?”

Gulfstream began squirming against her tightening hold. His face had probably turned blue by the time she noticed. As if his plight were a trigger, her manner went from distraught to worried. She released, and he sucked a few gasps of wonderful oxygen.

“S-sorry, Gulfie.” She sat up, rubbing her eyes. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah…” He choked and rubbed his chest. “Just… gotta… breathe for a bit.”

“Good.” And then she deflated, her head drooping and her eyes on her hooves. “M-maybe… Nevermind.”

The air finally returning to his lungs, Gulfstream leaned forward, trying to look her in the eye. “I’ll listen.”

She avoided eye contact. “You didn’t even like her.”

He wanted to deny it, just for her sake, but couldn’t. He turned away to stare at the window. The guilt wouldn’t go away. This was his fault, so he should try to fix it, right? But he never could fix things. All Gulfstream ever did was… hurt things.

“Lightning, am I a bad pony?”

“W-what? Why would you ask something like that?”

He looked up to discover that she was finally looking at him, but her alarmed, near-panicked expression didn’t help the feeling in his gut.

It was his turn to stare at his hooves. “You looked so sad yesterday. I thought, if I could bring Rainbow home, you’d be happy again. But… but you weren’t.”

“Oh…” Her words were just a whisper. “So that’s where you went.”

Was that all she had to say? Gulfstream felt moisture in his eyes. “I wanted to help. Why couldn’t I help? Why do I break everything? I’m always angry and… and mean to the other foals. I’m bad, right?”

“No…” But Lightning hesitated, and the first tear trickled down his cheek. She caught him in another tight hug. “You’re not bad, Gulfie! You’re not bad at all.”

“B-but if I hadn’t gone to get Rainbow—”

“You’re not bad!” She buried her muzzle in his mane. “I promise, Gulfie. Y-you only wanted to help. That’s the sign of a good pony. You’re good.”

“I want to be,” he whispered. “I really do. I didn’t mean for Rainbow to break up with you. I j-just wanted you to smile again, honest.”

“I know.” She kissed his forehead and rocked. “I know, Gulfie. It’s okay.”

“Is not.” He rubbed his face in her chest, his tears staining her fur. “You’re not okay. Nothing is okay.”

She chewed her lip, her chin resting on his forehead once more. “Maybe you’re right, but it’ll get b-better. I promise. We’ll get through this together, you and me.”

They remained like that for some time. Every time Gulfstream thought he would say something, his tongue would fail to work or his lips would feel strangely heavy. So he said nothing and let his dear cousin rock him back and forth. He liked it when she held him. Whether he was angry or sad, being held by her made him feel better.

For the first time in nearly a year, he thought of his mother. He remembered how she would hold him at night sometimes, like when he had bad dreams. Lightning looked nothing like her, but… but she was good like her.

“L-Lightning?”

She sniffed, her hold loosening a touch. “Mm-hmm?”

“Do you think you could… teach me? To be good?”

Lightning leaned back to study him. The fact that her tears had stopped lifted his spirits, but only a little. She examined him with a sad, soft expression, and he kept his head bowed so his wet cheeks wouldn’t be obvious.

“You’re already good, kiddo.” Then, somehow, she managed to chuckle. Patting him on the head, she added with a wry smile, “But I suppose a little improvement never hurts.”

“I don’t think I need a ‘little’ improvement,” he murmured.

Her smile became frail. After a second’s consideration, she leaned down to nuzzle him. “Alright, that’ll be our new project. We’ll work at it every day. I’m really gonna drill you, and by the time we’re done the Royal Guard’s gonna be looking up to you. Alright, soldier?”

He returned her smile, then pressed his cheek against her chest again.

“I love you, Lightning. You know that, right?”

“Yeah, I know.” She rubbed his back and leaned down to whisper in his ear. “I love you too, Gulfie. Nothing’s coming between us, you got that?

“Nothing in the world.”
> Book III – Gulfstream: Successes and Failures
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------





I asked Miss De Lis what she thought about destiny. I think the question surprised her. It’s just that, now that I’m really looking back on things, I find myself wondering about stuff like that. Some coincidences just seem too… coincidental.

Miss De Lis said that we make our own way in life, but there are also some things we just can’t change. Nopony can change when they were born, for example. Yet most of the things we see and do in life are up to us. I trust her, I really do, but I can’t help wondering how true it is.

Uncle Fine sometimes talks about ‘alternate universes.’ I don’t listen most of the time, that stuff gives me a headache. Sometimes, though, I think I’d like to see one of those alternate universes. Would Rainbow and I have been friends? Would she and Lightning still be together? Would we have been a family?

I still hate her. There’s no way I couldn’t hate her. But sometimes…

Sometimes I like to dream.

—Gulfstream Dust, Book of Shadows XLVIII,
June 1, 1007












July 16, C.Y. 1003
Cloudsdale


Gulfstream glanced at the door, ears perked. At the immensely frustrating silence, he resumed pacing, eyes on the floor. He fumed and grumbled, turned around and cast another look at the door.

Still nothing.

Lightning looked up from the newspaper on the kitchen table. “You’re gonna wear a hole in the floor. Sit, have some breakfast.” She glanced at the clock on the wall. “Lunch.”

The temptation to snap at her was strong, but he’d been getting a lot better at controlling those urges. He still sat by the door and sulked. He crossed his hooves and hunched forward, eyeing the door as if it had stolen the last cookie in the batch. He bristled when Lightning chuckled.

“Glaring at the door’s not gonna make the mail come any faster.” She tapped the table and pointed to the cushion perpendicular to her spot. “Come on, I’ll make you some waffles.”

That was almost enough to do it, but he tensed his legs and refused to move.

“With apple syrup.”

A tremble ran down his back. With a groan, he turned and walked to the table, though he made sure to sit at the spot opposite his usual. He had to get some kind of victory, after all.

She smirked and pushed the newspaper aside. “Good boy.”

He responded by lolling his tongue out and panting like a dog, which made her laugh. As she went to the refrigerator, Gulfstream resisted the temptation to look at the door by grabbing the newspaper. “Why do we have to wait for the mail, anyway? It’s not like you’re not going to get in.” He hoped that sounded more confident than he felt. He glanced at Lightning, but she was focused on getting the ingredients together.

With a sigh, Gulfstream took a look at the headlines. Not that he was at all interested in news, but any distraction was welcome right about now.

That is, until he turned to the third page. There he found a pair of images beside each other in the same article. One was of Celestia’s oh-so-loyal student, Twilight Sparkle. The other, far more interesting in his mind, was Princess Luna. Yes, the mad Nightmare Moon in her ‘good pony’ appearance. Gulfstream never understood why she had two different forms, but he’d gotten used to it after seeing it in the news enough times.

Sometimes, when he was feeling lonely or frustrated, he would close his eyes and remember her eyes. Though they pierced like blades, they always made him smile. Evil or no, Gulfstream had fond memories of his one and only encounter with the princess. There were times when he longed to see her again.

His curiosity drawn, he tried reading the article. To his disappointment, he found that it had nothing to do with some epic fight or anything else cool he generally associated with Best Princess. No, it was some stupid report about how Twilight and the princess had supposedly been having a romantic relationship. To this Gulfstream responded with a gag; girly romance was the last thing he wanted associated with Nightmare Moon!

Well, at least the article claimed the relationship was over. And that Twilight pony had been reassigned to—

His eyes widened. “Whoa.”

Lightning cast a glance over her shoulder. “Hmm?”

“Twilight Sparkle just got sent to the Gates of Tartarus. She’s the Gatekeeper now!”

His cousin rolled her eyes and turned back to flip the waffle iron. “It’s not what you’re thinking, Gulfie. That’s a demotion.”

“Who cares?” He grinned as he imagined all the monsters and criminals and fiends Twilight Sparkle was probably fighting right at that moment. Suddenly her coolness factor got a big bonus. “I wonder if she’s had to kill anypony?”

“It’s not what you’re thinking,” she repeated. “She probably just sits there watching the gates do nothing. Boring stuff. It’s not like the demons of Tartarus are constantly banging on the gates.”

“Why wouldn’t they?” Gulfstream’s grin didn’t fade one iota as he imagined himself engaged in an epic aerial duel with Cadance, the traitor seductress – whatever a seductress was. Probably something involving magic. Yeah, and he could be dodging bolts of lightning, distracting her so Twilight could deal—

A plate of waffles hit the table before him with a thunk, pulling him out of the mental struggle. “No epic adventures for you… or her.” Lightning stuck her tongue out at his glower, then poured the precious Apple-brand syrup. The sight of the sugary awesomeness got rid of his annoyance in no time at all, and he promptly dug in. He’d not realized how hungry he was; with the first bite, his stomach rumbled its approval.

The mound of dough proved a poor foe, rapidly succumbing to his eager assault. His face was a mess of syrup and crumbs. Realizing his error, he took his time in rubbing the gunk off with a lone hoof, from which he licked as much as he could. Just as he was about to start licking his plate, though, he caught Lightning’s raised eyebrow. His ears promptly folded back.

Grumbling, he took the plate in his hooves and flew to the kitchen sink. He never liked doing chores, but cleaning dishes was one of his all-time least favorites.

Just as he got the sponge soaked enough to be pliable, there came a knock at the door. His head whipped up and wings snapped open, but Lightning’s raised hoof ended his flight before it even started. She pointed at him, then at the still dirty plate.

For a moment – just the tiniest fleeting instant – he wondered what it would be like to throw the plate in her face. Then he turned and went to work, scrubbing frantically even as his ears remained swiveled back to listen.

“Letter for Lightning Dust.”

“Thanks.” After a lengthy pause, “What?”

“Aren’t you gonna open it?”

Gulfstream took his eyes off the plate to look back at the door. He couldn’t see the mailpony. He was more interested in the letter, which was in a thick manila envelope. He grinned and hurried to finish off the plate.

“Derpy, don’t you have another four sectors to run?”

“I’m fast enough. Come on, open it!”

Gulfstream dropped the plate onto the cloud strainer and was at Lightning’s side in an instant. “Yeah, open it!”

Lightning peered down at him. “You were supposed to clean your face too.”

“Open it first.” He hovered and waved his hooves wildly. “Come on, open open open!”

Derpy grinned and began hoofpumping to a chant of “O-pen! O-pen! O-pen!” Gulfstream, who liked her more than the average pony, joined in.

Rolling her eyes, Lightning at last raised the envelope high. “Alright, alright. But I’m telling you, it’s a foregone conclusion.” She ripped the top of the envelope off with her teeth, spitting the paper on the ground. She reached for the letter within—

“Wait!” Gulfstream pressed his hoof to hers. “Slowly. Let’s savor it.”

“Make up your mind!” Lightning huffed and put on an exaggerated display of tucking the envelope under her wing. “If you want to face the suspense, maybe I should wait until tomorrow.”

“No!” Derpy shook her head frantically and pulled Gulfstream back. “Read it!” He didn’t protest; he’d have reacted the same way if his muzzle wasn’t being held closed by the mailmare.

“I dunno.” Lightning leaned her head back and rubbed her chin. “Gulfie has spoken, after all.”

With a muffled shout, he began to squirm in Derpy’s hold, leaving little splashes of syrup on her uniform. He’d have bit down on her hoof if Lightning hadn’t gotten really mad the last time he’d tried such a thing. The mailmare held on for as long as she could, but at last he managed to free himself and jerk upwards and out of her reach. “I take it back! Open it!”

Laughing, Lightning reached back and pulled the letter out from under her wing. She scanned it with a broad smile. “Oh, look, it’s just a message from Mom. Who knew?”

Derpy hopped in place with a whine not unlike the one Gulfstream was making at the same moment. “Lightniiiiing!”

With one more roll of the eyes, she turned the letter around so the others could see. “Duh, I got in! What did you expect?”

“Yes!” Gulfstream began flying circles as he cheered. “My cousin’s gonna be a Wonderbolt!”

Derpy did her part by throwing her hooves around Lightning. “This is awesome! My friend’s going to be famous!”

Lightning chuckled as pink spread across her cheeks. “Come on, guys, I’m not a Wonderbolt yet. I’ve got to actually graduate the academy first, y’know.”

“It’s in the bag.” Gulfstream whacked Derpy on the shoulder. “Hey, hooves off. It’s my turn!” The moment she relented, he swooped in to wrap his legs around Lightning’s neck.

After a few moments of grasping, Lightning pulled him back and sucked in a deep breath. “Geez, kid. Are you trying to kill me before I even get to the academy? And now I have to wash the syrup out of my coat.” He only giggled and nuzzled her, a display of affection he reserved only for the best occasions.

“This calls for a celebration,” Derpy cheered. “We’re going out tonight, my treat!”

“Oooh, no.” Lightning shook her head as she set Gulfstream on her shoulders. “I’m not letting you blow your hard-earned bits on me.”

“Oooh, yes you are!” Derpy rubbed her chest with a smug grin. “You’ll just have to pay me back later. With interest, of course, but since you’re going to be a super-awesome and well-paid Wonderbolt, that won’t be a problem for you.”

“Ah, I see where this is going.” Lightning returned the grin and shrugged. “Fine, but only ’cause I know you won’t stop until I say yes. And not tonight, I’ve got some things to do now that it’s official.”

Gulfstream, who had spent much of the conversation envisioning his cousin in Wonderbolt Blue, leaned over her head. “Like what?”

“Like taking care of you, for starters.”

“Eh?” He cocked his head. “What do you mean?”

“Well…” Lightning cast a concerned frown at Derpy.

The mailmare nodded and waved a dismissive hoof. “Yeah, I need to get back to my rounds, anyway. I’ll see you later?”

“Count on it.”

Lightning shared a hoofbump with her before turning to head inside. She pulled Gulfstream off her shoulders and set him on the  counter by the sink. “Now, you and I have got something to discuss,” she declared as she turned the water back on.

“Is it about you taking me to meet Spitfire?” he asked, wings flapping eagerly. “ ’Cause you know I’ve always wanted to meet Spitfire!”

She pressed a hoof to his muzzle with a smirk. “It’s about you meeting my parents.”

His eyes went wide. “Wait… what? I already met them.”

Lightning sighed and shook her head, already working on cleaning his hooves. “Gulfstream, you realize they won’t let foals live at the academy, right?”

No, he didn’t realize that. His jaw dropped as the consequences of her words hit home. “B-but… but why not? You’re my guardian, right? Legal control. That means you have to raise me.”

“They’re not going to budge on this, cuz.” Lightning gave him an expectant look. “You’re going to have to stay with mom and dad while I’m at the academy. Six weeks.”

“Six weeks?” He threw his head back in what was most certainly not an exaggerated display. “I can’t stay with Aunt Flit and Uncle Meter for six weeks, I’ll die of boredom! Can’t you sneak me in or something?”

Lightning reached out and pressed her hoof atop his head, right between the ears. She didn’t just place it on his head, she pressed. Exactly when she’d developed that habit, he couldn’t recall, but he knew it meant he needed to shut up and listen. So that’s exactly what he did, closing his mouth and ignoring the spark within, eyes focusing directly upon hers.

Her hard look would have been enough, had he noticed it. Her eyes bored into him as she spoke in her most commanding tone. “This is very important, Gulfstream. I need you to behave yourself while you’re with Mom and Dad. You’ve been working very hard and improved a whole lot. I’m proud of you, but if you can’t be good when I’m not there then it won’t amount to hydra droppings. So you’re going to accept this, you’re going to be a proper and polite colt for my parents, and you’re going to be proper and polite for six weeks. Am I clear?”

Every fiber of his being wanted to cry out “no!” But Lightning was right, he had improved a lot. He knew how to take the angry voice in his head and put a muzzle on it, and that’s what he chose to do now. He even managed to douse the fire that had been steadily building in his gut.

At last certain of himself, he bowed his head and muttered a compliant, “Yes, Lightning.”

She smiled and pulled him in for a hug. “That’s my precious cousin colt. Don’t you worry, the time will fly past before you know it.”

“Will not,” he grumbled, though he returned her hug. “I really wanted to see the academy.”

She chuckled and ruffled his mane. “You will. It’s not like you can’t visit, Gulfie. Hay, you might even get to meet Spitfire.”

His eyes lit up and his wings buzzed. “You really think so?”

“Maybe, but don’t get your hopes up.” She paused to think, then facehooved. “Aw, who am I kidding?”

When she pulled her hoof back, it started to shake. Gulfstream noticed and took it in his own with wide eyes. “Lightning, what’s wrong?”

“Wrong? Nothing’s wrong.” She pulled her hoof back and shook it loosely, but when she stopped the trembling continued. She blushed and hunched over, a grin forcing its way onto her lips. Her wings began to vibrate.

Gulfstream leaned forward. “Lightning?”

Abruptly, his cousin gave the most girly squeal he’d ever heard from her throat. Her wings snapped open and she pulled him into a bone-crushing hug. “I’m going to the Wonderbolts Academy! Sweet Celestia’s multi-hued mane, this is the best day of my life!”

Gulfstream could only squirm, half thinking this was going to be the last day of his life. As he listened to Lightning’s giddy laughter, he couldn’t help thinking there were worse ways to go.










July 19, C.Y. 1003
Cloudsdale


“You’re going to get Spitfire’s autograph for me, right?”

Gulfstream cast a glare at his bespectacled uncle. “She’s getting one for me first.”

Lighting giggled as she pulled out of her mother’s hug. “I’ll get one for the both of you.”

Aunt Flit – a tiny dark grey pegasus who shared Lightning’s mane color – shot her husband a wry look before mock-whispering to Lightning, “I made sure to pack your father’s beach magazine with her as the spread. Make sure she signs that.”

Uncle Bear O. Meter’s eyes grew so much they dwarfed his glasses. “Flit, you didn’t!”

“A-ha!” She pointed an accusing hoof at the teal stallion, though her grin remained. “I knew you had one! I’m on to you, ya old tailchaser.”

Pink cascaded across the middle-aged stallion’s face as he sputtered. Lightning caught him in a hug before he could come up with a proper response.

“Love you, Daddy,” she whispered. “And good luck.”

“Y-you too.” He sighed and wrapped his hooves about her. “I’m proud of you, my little adventurer.”

Gulfstream watched the interaction with a deep frown, kicking at the cloud floor. When Lightning turned to him, he offered his most pleading, big-eyed gaze. “Are you sure I can’t come with you?”

“You behave for your aunt and uncle,” she instructed, patting him on the head. “And don’t worry, you’ll get to see the Academy before too long.”

He sighed, offering a small nod of acceptance. “I’m gonna miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too.” She gave him a brief nuzzle, and though he hesitated with her parents there, he returned it. “Well, I’d better get going. Orientation starts this afternoon and I’m not about to be the late recruit.”

“You go on, LD.” Aunt Quick Flit waved her off. “We’ll be here when you get back.”

Lightning smiled at each of them, her gaze lingering just a little longer on Gulfstream, then finally turned for the door. His hoof rose of its own accord, reaching out as if to stop her, but the door closed between them regardless. He could do nothing but stare, shoulders slumped and ears pulled back.

Uncle Meter sighed. “Our little adventurer’s finally living her dream. Did you ever think this day would come?”

With a chuckle, Aunt Flit replied, “Of course I did. You were the one worrying over nothing. Now then…”

The measured tone caught Gulfstream’s attention, and he turned to find them both watching him with concerned expressions. He hunched down and tried not to think angry thoughts. “What?”

They shared an unreadable glance. It was Uncle Meter who finally spoke up. “Well, nephew, I hate to be blunt, but you didn’t exactly leave a good impression on us during your last stay here.”

It took everything Gulfstream had not to scowl. He hoped he sounded more contrite than he felt. “Yeah, I know.”

Aunt Flit knelt down next to him and smiled. “We don’t mean to make you feel unwelcome, Gulfstream. Lightning tells us you’ve made wonderful progress in the last few months.”

But they didn’t believe it. Their meaning was as plane as the muzzles on their faces. He pouted and stared at the floor, but inside he felt like kicking something. Or somepony.

“You remember the rules?” asked Uncle Meter.

Of course he did. Lightning made him recite them a dozen times before she dumped him here. He raised his head and looked his uncle in the eye, unable to keep his frustration hidden from his tone. “No flying in the house, dinner is at seven, bed is no later than ten. The weather lab is off limits unless you invite me in. I’m not allowed to leave on my own unless I seek permission first.”

“Very good!” His aunt’s smile seemed genuine, at least. “It’s not that we don’t trust you, Gulfstream.”

It’s just that you don’t trust me. He managed to get a smile out and nodded, his legs and wings taut. “I understand.”

“Relax, nephew.” Uncle Meter patted him on the head. Gulfstream was tempted to bite him. “If you behave yourself this week, maybe I’ll take you downstairs.”

That got his attention. Gulfstream looked between his aunt and uncle, ears perked as he considered this. “You mean you’ll take me down to the ground? Like, with the dirt and trees and everything?”

Aunt Flit nodded, and Gulfstream could detect no hint of deception. “Lightning said you liked to head down there on occasion. I thought we might visit Foal Mountains and…” She faltered, licking her lips as her eyes began to shift.

He understood. Gulfstream felt strangely… heavy. That was the best way to describe it, like there was a great weight in his chest that might pull him through the cloud floor. He sank to his haunches, trying to take this idea in.

He’d not gone by to see his parents since leaving the orphanage.

In truth, he didn’t even know if he wanted to.










July 27, C.Y. 1003
Cragsleaf


Gulfstream had been as good as his word, doing everything he could to meet Lightning’s criteria of ‘good pony.’ It hadn’t been easy; their place was about as boring as he remembered, and the only cool room in the whole house – his uncle’s weather lab – remained strictly off limits. Still, they let him go and do his own thing more often than not, so long as he made sure to tell them where he was going and always came back at the time they specified. And besides, Aunt Flit was a much better cook than her daughter.

His aunt and uncle had been as good as their word, too. At that moment they were touching down in a small town not quite halfway between Cloudsdale and Foal Mountains, where they would rest for a night before continuing onward. It was called Cragsleaf. Dumb name, but Gulfstream figured it couldn’t be easy naming a town. He certainly didn’t have a better idea for it.

As his uncle and aunt went into the inn, he turned a small circle to examine his surroundings. Cragsleaf was a small community surrounded by forest and hills. Few ponies were out at this late hour, but even with those it was clear that this was an earth pony town. He couldn’t imagine any unicorns stooping so low as to live in this place, what with all the muddy roads and the wooden hovels for houses, and with the wild weather there was no need for a pegasus weather team.

Lightning had brought him to Cragsleaf once, when she’d picked him up from Foal Mountains. It hadn’t changed much, and he turned his back on the town with no small amount of disdain. He was amazed the place even had an inn. Well, not really, since he’d stayed there before, but the point remained.

The interior was livelier than he expected. Ponies were spread out in a bunch of groups, chatting and laughing and enjoying their ale. Gulfstream saw his aunt and uncle at the front desk, which was actually a bar. His aunt spotted him and waved, but didn’t demand he come. He appreciated that; he would much prefer to roam. Cragsleaf wasn’t a dangerous place by any stretch of the imagination, after all.

As he walked to the center of the room, a particularly loud bout of laughter caught his attention. He was surprised to find a large number of pegasi all grouped around a couple tables. There had to have been a dozen at least. He examined them, wondering what they’d be doing in an earth pony town like this.

His answer came when he turned back to the bar and spotted a large poster just behind it. He trotted over and, after a wing-assisted hop onto a seat, took a closer look. The poster depicted the pegasi he’d seen flying in formation with lots of exaggerated colors and words in needlessly big font. It was an ad for a stunt team, one he’d never heard of. His eyes went wide when he recognized one of the ponies. He jerked back to the table, sweeping his gaze across every face.

He spotted her: Rainbow Dash. She was hurrying up some stairs. Just before her head disappeared, she cast a look his way. Her eyes were wide, her wings tucked tightly around herself, her jaw clenched.

She’d been running.

From him.

With one quick check to ensure his aunt and uncle weren’t watching, Gulfstream snapped his wings open and zoomed after her, keeping low to the floor so as not to draw too much attention to himself. He darted up the stairs and spotted Rainbow unlocking a door. When she saw him coming, she froze… then bowed her head and waited. He hovered by her head and set his hooves to his hips, glaring.

Rainbow kept her head low as she looked at him. “H-hey, Gulfstream. What are you doing here?”

That familiar fire was alight within him again. He landed and took a moment to take a calming breath or two. “You’re running away. Why are you running away?”

She winced and turned for the door, but didn’t go in. “I… didn’t want to talk to you.”

Teeth gritting, Gulfstream worked to close his wings. “Why not?”

Rainbow licked her lips and looked straight ahead. “Because I knew you’d be angry. Um, L-Lightning’s not with you, is she?”

At the question, he couldn’t help but smirk. “She’s at the Wonderbolt Academy.”

With a gasp, Rainbow turned on him. “Really? She made it?”

He had to pull back from her wide-eyed gaze. “Yeah, she made it.” His smile came back. “Without you.”

“That’s… Th-that’s…” She sat down, her gaze falling to the floorboards. All energy faded from her voice. “That’s great. Really. It… It is.”

Gulfstream knew he shouldn’t be enjoying her misery. Lightning would surely disapprove, even after what Rainbow had done to her. The pleasure came to him regardless, and he permitted himself to wallow in it. He puffed out his chest and grinned, delighting in Rainbow’s pouting form.

“So, she’s… doing okay?”

His smile dropped to a scowl. “As if you care.”

Rainbow winced. “I do. I care.” She caught his narrowed eyes and sighed. “Yeah, I didn’t think you’d believe me.”

He sniffed derisively, looking her up and down. “And you’re a stuntspony now? You left Cloudsdale?”

“Yeah.” She turned away yet again, her eyes glassy. “I couldn’t stay there. Too many mistakes, too many friends lost. This isn’t much, but… it keeps me busy.”

The smirk came back. “Must not be much of a stunt team if they hired a sixth place pony like you.”

He expected her to take offense and lash out in some way. Instead, she only hunched over a little more. The disappointment fanned the flames within him. His legs tensed.

“You’re right, they suit me perfectly.” She cast a sorrowful glance his way. “You still hate me, huh?”

“Yeah, I do.” He flapped his wings a couple times, hoping to relieve some of the energy building up inside him. “I wanted you to make Lightning feel better, not worse. You deserve whatever you get.”

“I won’t argue. But… she’s doing okay, right?”

He tilted his head, confusion dampening his anger. “Uh, yeah. She’s doing great.”

“Good.” Rainbow sighed… and then smiled.

Gulfstream leapt into the air, wings buzzing and hooves shaking. “Why are you smiling? You shouldn’t be smiling!”

She stepped back, eyes going wide. “Whoa, easy there, Gulfstream! Can’t I be glad she’s doing okay?”

“Not after the crap you pulled.” He buzzed forward, pressing his muzzle to hers. “Do you have any idea how much you hurt her? Lightning was a wreck for weeks!”

Rainbow’s ears folded back. “Really? That’s… I mean, I’m s—”

“Don’t you dare!” He shook his hoof in her face. “Don’t say you’re sorry! I won’t let you lie to my face like that.”

Her eyes crossed as she observed his fist. Then, like a balloon with a leak, she deflated, sagging against the wall. “You really want to hurt me, don’t you?”

He hesitated, pulling back and studying his own hoof. He did want to. He wanted to hurt her so badly.

“I won’t stop you.” She leaned forward and tapped her chin, eyes averted. “I have it coming. Go ahead. Hit me with all you’ve got.”

He gaped, hoof still raised between them. Slowly, he looked from it to her and back. This was it, an opportunity to do the one thing he’d never dared, because if he did… He closed his eyes and saw Lightning’s disapproving, sad frown. She wouldn’t want him to, but Goddess, the temptation! And nopony, not even Lightning, could argue that Rainbow didn’t have it coming.

But if he hit once… he’d do it again. And again. He probably wouldn’t stop until she forced him to or ran away. If he started now, when would he stop? What if attacking now meant that he’d go back to that as his default solution to everything?

“Well?” Rainbow at last set her gaze on him. There was no harshness in her eyes, no judgement. Only acceptance. “What are you waiting for? You know you want to.”

“I-I do,” he whispered. “I want to so badly. It would f-feel good. B-but…”

Slowly, he forced himself to land. As he’d been taught, he pressed both forehooves into the floor as hard as he could, lest they do something they shouldn’t. He sucked down a deep breath and recited, “ ‘Just because something feels good, that doesn’t mean it is.’ Lightning said that.” He turned his face away, fearing his own eagerness. “I want to be g-good for her. I want to hit you, Rainbow, b-but… but she wouldn’t want me to.”

Rainbow studied him for a few seconds as he bristled and awaited her mockery.

Instead, she just gave a frail smile. “She really is better than me,” she whispered. “In every way possible.”

He sucked down another sharp breath, giving himself time to force the bite from his tone. “Yeah, she is.”

They were silent for a little while, Rainbow fidgeting in place and Gulfstream working to keep his temper down however he could. He pondered if he shouldn’t just go back downstairs to his aunt and uncle. They were probably looking for him right about now…

Rainbow spoke just as he started to turn around. “So what are you guys doing all the way out here?”

He flinched. “Going to visit Foal Mountains… and my parents.”

“Oh.” Rainbow rubbed her leg with a bashful frown. “Okay, then. You looking forward to it?”

“I… I don’t know.” He stared at his hooves, thinking on the strange emptiness he suddenly felt. “Should I be?”

“I don’t know,” she replied in kind. “Were you… close?”

For a moment, he considered walking away. It wasn’t as if he wanted to talk to Rainbow, after all. But something kept him from going. Something made him want to say…

“With my mom.” He sighed and rubbed his mane back. “I was real close to Mom. She was kinda like Lightning. Real nice and patient and… you know.”

“Mm-hmm.”

Gulfstream felt so strange. Talking to Rainbow without wanting to buck her teeth out? Yet here he was. Suddenly, he really missed Lightning.

“W-well, you should probably head back down.” Rainbow turned for the door to her room. “Miss Flit and Mr. Meter are probably looking for you.”

“Yeah.” He turned away, not sure how to feel about this recent talk.

“Hey… Gulfstream?”

He paused and looked back. Rainbow wasn’t looking at him, but at something in the room. Her chin hovered just above the floor. “When you see Lightning again, would you tell her… that I miss her?”

His eyes narrowed. The fire sparked, and he welcomed its heat.

When he didn’t answer, Rainbow sighed. “I didn’t think so.”

She disappeared, the door closing with a quit thud.
	
> Book III – Gulfstream: Effort
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------




I remember trying. I worked hard to be Lightning’s ‘precious cousin colt.’ Being good took a lot of effort. I hated that I couldn’t be me, but sometimes I also hated being me. As I got older, the things I wanted to do grew worse. Picking fights at school? Small time compared to the ideas that haunted me later.

I could have really hurt ponies. Aunt Flit and Uncle Meter have no idea how many times I considered…

Back then, I was so scared of what I could have been. In a way, I still am. I know what I’m capable of, and sometimes it keeps me awake at night. But usually I just run with it, because there’s only one pony who could control me. Lightning was the only one I loved enough to be willing to change for.

But by the Goddess, it was hard.

—Gulfstream Dust, Book of Shadows XLVIII,
June 2, 1007












July 29, C.Y. 1003
Foal Mountains


Thunder rumbled in the distance. Gulfstream paid it no mind. All around him were gravestones. The most lavish ones were shaped like cutie marks, but most just had the symbols carved in a traditional headstone. Some were made of marble, one or two of granite, but most of concrete.

The graves before him bore no stone at all. No, these mounds were marked only by a pair of wooden plaques. The names of Golden Field and Deep Dust were clearly legible... for now. Within a few years they’d be gone, the wood rotted, and their memories relegated to Gulfstream’s head and a filing cabinet in the town hall.

His aunt and uncle had said their words. Now they lingered on a bench down the hill, far enough away to give him his privacy but close enough to keep watch. He didn’t mind. They were trying to look out for him. Still, he wished…

With a sigh, he sat between the two earthen mounds, now covered in grass. He rubbed a hoof on each, pulling up the loose, fertile black soil that ponies used around here for this kind of thing. It was some sort of tradition; going back to nature, or something like that. It provided little comfort to the colt. But the smell...

He’d already gone through the usual pleasantries, all while his aunt and uncle were there. None of it meant much. Okay, that wasn’t true, he really did miss his parents. A lot. Everything else felt hollow and pointless, like how his aunt and uncle insisted on saying that he was a ‘good boy.’

They really had no idea.

But now that he was alone, saying what he really wanted to was difficult. For once, that didn’t anger him. He couldn’t be angry, not before these two. He wished he was, it would have made this easier.

At last, he turned his attention to the grave on the left: Deep Dust. “Dad, have you ever been angry at somepony? I don’t mean the kind of angry where you hit a stallion for talking bad about Mom. I mean…” He hesitated, his eye going to his aunt and uncle. The words came out slowly. “I m-mean, really angry. Angry enough to want to do more than hurt a pony.”

He perked his ears. Only thunder answered him, of course.

“Lightning wants me to be good,” he whispered. He rubbed both forehooves on his mother’s grave, stirring up the soil so he could get a good whiff of it. She’d have liked this soil. She’d used some in her gardens. “I wanna be good. For Lightning. And for you, Mom.”

He raised his dirt-coated hooves to his muzzle and breathed it in. It smelled so good… just like her.

Tears began to form.

“I… I think I’m s-sick.” He bowed his head, heart twisting as he finally admitted what had long been disturbing him. “I think Lightning knows it. She’s been trying to help. She has helped. I’m getting better at controlling m-my anger.”

He sagged to his belly, unwilling to look at the two mounds that rose over his small form like mountains. “It’s not normal anger. I keep wanting to hurt ponies. No, worse than that. They get hurt and I… I don’t feel anything, except maybe pleasure. It’s not normal. I know it’s not. A-and sometimes I…”

He paused, took a deep breath, let it out. He did it again. And again.

“Two days before we left to come here, I…” Another breath. “I-I asked Aunt Flit if I could take a look at Uncle Meter’s lab. She said no, th-that it was too dangerous without Uncle Meter home. I was so mad.” Another breath. Another glance to make sure he was alone.

“I thought about taking that croquet mallet from the attic and… and…”

He buried his head in his legs, trembling and holding back more tears.  He struggled to keep his voice down. “I’m a b-bad pony. A terrible pony. I don’t want to be bad. I want to be good, like y-you. Why do I keep thinking these things?”

He breathed. Slowly, carefully, savoring his mother’s earthen scent. He imagined her rubbing his mane and humming to him. “Help me. H-help me not think these things. Help me feel guilty. Th-that’s the worst part, sometimes I don’t even feel bad about it. Sometimes I’m just scared I’ll get caught.”

Lying on his side, he staring at his mother’s mound. The wind of the coming storm blew his mane before his eyes. He ignored it. “Sometimes I hate being me. Sometimes I wish you’d taken me with you. At least then ponies would be… safe.”

Another deep breath. His heartbeat was slowing down to normal speeds. He rolled onto his back, wings splayed out to touch both mounds. Above him, the sky roiled with grey clouds. They were in turmoil.

He could relate.

“Lightning’s trying to help. She’s been good to me. Too good. I don’t know that she can help me.” He reached out to rub his hooves in the dirt again, one on either side. “I love her. I think she’s the only pony in Equestria I really like. I tolerate others, but Lightning…”

He paused, his gaze roaming to a bright spot in the clouds. He could just imagine the sun hiding behind there. And thinking of the sun made him think of its partner…

“There’s another pony I really like,” he whispered. “I d-don’t know if you’d approve, though. Her n-name is… Nightmare Moon.”

He pulled his hooves to his face and breathed in. He kept quiet for a while, thinking and enjoying the smell. He could almost see their faces… And hers. He smiled.

“She’s done bad things too. Princess Luna… maybe she knows how I feel. Do you think she could help me?” He turned his head to his father’s grave, eyes imploring. “Do you think I’ll meet her again? If I do, maybe I’ll ask.” His smile grew a fraction. “Yeah… I think I will. Maybe she’ll even remember me.”

The idea began to solidify in his mind as he sat up to gaze out over the cemetery. “She was the one who suggested I could be a warrior. M-maybe if I join the Royal Guard I can meet her again. I wonder how old you have to be?”

He pondered that for a few seconds, the idea growing stronger and stronger in his mind. “Yeah. Yeah! Princess Luna knows what it’s like to be a bad pony, but she didn’t seem bad when I met her. A little scary maybe, but not bad. Maybe she’s not bad anymore. She can tell me how she did it!”

Stepping out from between the mounds, he looked back at them one last time. “Don’t worry about me, guys. I’ll be a good pony, you can count on it!”

Heart filled with confidence and conviction, he spread his wings and flew for his aunt and uncle.










July 31, C.Y. 1003
Cragsleaf


“You come right back, alright?”

It took some effort to keep from rolling his eyes, but Gulfstream pulled it off. “Yes, Uncle Meter.” He pushed the door to their room open and stepped out into the hall. He paused to take in the dark surroundings with a frown.

“It’s the third door on the left, dear,” Aunt flit mumbled from the bed.

“Right.” As an afterthought, “Thanks.” Closing the door with a light kick of his hind leg, he promptly turned right. Should he feel guilty about lying to them? Probably. One more lesson he needed to learn.

He opened his wings and flew, not daring to risk the sound of his hooves on the floorboards. The hall was lit only by the occasional torch, but that proved more than enough to get him to his destination. He didn’t bother to land, hovering high as he examined the worn wood.

How long had it taken him to get here? Ever since he’d learned they’d be staying in Cragsleaf again. That was when the idea hit him, at least. It was a good move, right? Lightning would approve, wouldn’t she? He just had to knock… and face the consequences.

So why did his hoof resist when he tried to raise it?

“You can do this, Gulfie,” he whispered, trying to imagine that it as Lightning saying so. “You’re wasting time. J-just knock.”

He didn’t want to. The idea of doing it reignited that old, familiar fire within. Why should he be here? What good would it do? It’s not like anything would change for the better! He shook his head, trying to push down the vicious thoughts as he had all day and into the night.

Again, he tried to imagine Lightning’s voice in his head. This is a good start. A good choice for a good pony. You do want to be a good pony, don’t you?

“I do,” he whispered through clenched teeth. “But w-why do I have to do this to be one?”

He could see, with startling clarity, Lightning’s concerned frown. It gave him the strength he needed to raise his hoof. It hit the wood once, and the sound seemed to echo through the entire inn like a gong. He winced, the heat in him flashing at his own weak reaction. Hooves shaking, he forced the emotion down and braced for what would come next.

Except nothing did. He waited, staring at the door. It didn’t open. With a groan, he flew a little closer and pressed his ear to the wood. He could make out snoring, an unpleasantly familiar sound.

His brow furrowed as he considered his options. “She’s gonna make me wake the whole building.”

Of course, it could be argued that he’d tried. His aunt and uncle would be expecting him back before long, so…

No.

Before he could reconsider, he banged on the door, though even through that determination he tried to temper the sound. He set his ear to the door; the snoring had stopped. Determined to press his advantage while his courage was still up, he knocked a few more times. She’d wake up, she’d talk to him, and he’d… He’d try. At last, the doorknob shifted. He floated back, crossing his forehooves for lack of knowing what to do with them, and waited.

He tensed as the door opened, but the pony who peered out wasn’t the one he was after. It was a purple mare with a grey mane, who rubbed one eye and glared at him with the other. “Whaddaya want, kid?”

Gulfstream narrowed his eyes at the pony. Had he worked up all that courage for nothing? “Where’s Rainbow?”

She scowled and started to close the door. “It’s too late for visiting fans.”

“Tell her it’s Gulfstream.”

The mare rolled her eyes and closed the door… only for it to jerk open half a second later. Rainbow gaped at Gulfstream, her mane a tangled mess. There was no questioning the concern in her tone. “Gulfstream? Why are you here so late? Did something happen?”

He brushed off her apparent worry, wings buzzing as he flew a little closer. “Who is that?”

“My roommate.” She stepped out and began to close the door, but kept it open a crack. “What’s going on?”

He stared into her eyes, trying to find some hint at deception, anything to indicate that the pony he’d just seen… His search shifted. Rainbow’s eyes weren’t of uncertainty or anger, but of concern. An image of Lightning sobbing in her bed flashed into his mind. He was glad his legs were tightly crossed or he might have done something he’d have regretted later.

“Gulfstream?”

Right. He came here for a reason. He gritted his teeth and landed. “I just… wanted to…” The words were like poisoned barbs in his throat.

Though her eyelids drooped, Rainbow remained patient. She sat and leaned forward expectantly.

Expectant of what? Why should she expect anything from him?

No, he was being unfair. Lightning said…

Lightning said…

Lightning…

He bowed his head in defeat. Through the anger that held his tongue, he could feel the threads of shame wrapping about his heart. “I… I c-can’t.”

Rainbow cocked her head. “Can’t what?”

Though he knew it to be pointless, still Gulfstream tried again. He worked his tongue, lashing it against the bonds of frustration. He wanted to scream at himself to grow up and make Lightning proud. The image returned every time. Lightning’s sobs pierced his ears, her desperate hold crushed his ribs, her tears tickled his cheeks.

“Hey, are you okay?”

He was crying. When did that start? He rubbed his eyes and looked up at Rainbow with a confusing combination of hatred and fear.

“N-no, I’m not.”

Rainbow leaned back, her wide eyes darting about the hall as if in search of assistance. She rubbed the back of her head and made a feeble attempt at keeping her cool. “Look, I don’t know if I’m the right pony to talk to about… whatever this is.”

No, she probably wasn’t, but she was here. Right now, at this moment, Rainbow was the only one he could talk to. His aunt and uncle… they wouldn’t get it. Rainbow might not get it. Probably not.

But she was here.

Gulfstream bowed his head, fighting back a sniff. “I w-was gonna forgive you.”

He could almost hear her jaw drop. “You were?”

“Good ponies… forgive. They forgive, don’t they? I p-promised Mom and Dad. Lightning would want me to. So why c-can’t I…” He rubbed his eyes and cursed under his breath. “Every time I think about it, I get so… mad.”

His eyes met hers. He took in her surprise and worry and knew she couldn’t help him. Still, he had to ask. “Rainbow, is there something wrong with me?”

They held one another’s gaze for some time. Rainbow’s eyebrows rose high and her bottom lip trembled. He saw her swallow. He just waited, hoping she’d tell him everything he felt was wrong… no, right… no… he didn’t know. He just wanted her to say something. He couldn’t even be upset right now, which was almost as distressing.

At last, Rainbow shook her head. “N-no, Gulfie. It’s… hard to forgive sometimes, especially when the pony you’re forgiving did something really bad.”

Were his mind running at full spread, Gulfstream might have latched onto that confession with a  vengeance. Instead he just stared at the floorboards. This was supposed to be his moment, the big turnaround, the instant he shed the anger. Instead, it clung to him in the recesses of his mind. Or was he the one clinging to it? He shivered and tried his best not to sob.

Rainbow fidgeted from side to side. “Um… but… you know, this is a good thing, isn’t it?”

He glared at her, and she pulled back. “How is it a good thing? I failed. I can’t…” The energy faded from him.

At his lingering silence, Rainbow tried again. “You came here to forgive, right? Okay, so you failed. But… but isn’t trying worth something? I think Lightning will be happy you came here, even if it didn’t go as planned.”

As much as he hated to take hope in anything she might say… “D-do you really think so?”

“Absolutely.”

He looked up at her. For reasons he couldn’t fathom, he smiled.

She returned the expression. “You’re on the right track, Gulfie. It’s hard to reach the top, but once you get there it’s a glorious thing.”

He came so very close to asking ‘How would you know?’, but managed to keep it in. That little bit of restraint watered his mood and broadened his smile. “Thanks, RD. I’m sorry I woke you for nothing.”

She waved a dismissive hoof and yawned. “Eh, don’t worry about it. I’m glad you’re trying, kid. Really, I am. You don’t have to forgive me for what I did, it was…” She hesitated, her eyes turning away. “It was wrong.”

Yes, yes it was. Even so, Gulfstream found the fire to be tolerable, and he didn’t lose his smile. “I should go back. Aunt Flit and Uncle Meter are probably wondering why it takes so long to use the bathroom.”

Rainbow chuckled and nodded. “Yeah, probably. You gonna watch the performance tomorrow? It’s our last one in Cragsleaf.”

He shook his head. “Can’t. We have to leave for Cloudsdale early tomorrow, and you’re still pretty low on my aunt and uncle’s list of ponies.”

“Can’t blame them for that.” Another long yawn escaped her, which prompted him to do the same. “Well, goodnight, Gulfstream. I’m sure things will get better for ya. You’ve got a great trainer, after all.”

Another image of Lightning, this time of her grinning, filled his head. Gulfstream smiled and nodded. Just as they parted, though, a thought came to him. “Rainbow?”

She paused, hoof touching the door. “Yeah?”

He grinned. “I still hate you.”

She glanced at him for a moment, then smiled. “Of course you do.”










August 8, C.Y. 1003
Hurricane’s Spire


Gulfstream landed on a rocky outcropping and took in his surroundings. The earth was barren and grey, completely devoid of life. All around  him, crags rose up to make a veritable maze of jagged doom. He couldn’t imagine anypony trying to get through this place by walking. He glanced at his hooves and shifted them to keep well away from the small, sharp-looking edges that decorated every surface.

But the truly interesting thing, at least to him, was the great pillar that rose high into the sky. At least, ‘pillar’ was the best way he could think of to describe it. It appeared almost as though some giant had cut a perfect oval into the earth and pulled out a perfect chunk of soil. It towered over him, disappearing into overcast, grey clouds.

The flapping of wings announced a pony just behind him. “You shouldn’t land, it’s dangerous.”

“I can take care of myself.” He launched anyway, turning to face the pony. It was Derpy, who was out of her mailpony uniform for a change. He smirked and waved a hoof at himself. “Don’t worry, the ‘package’ is safe.”

She tapped his muzzle with a smile. “I am the professional deliverymare, and I won’t have my reputation ruined. It’s not every day I get assigned to deliver live cargo, y’know.”

“Right.” Gulfstream flew a small circle, his gaze set on the spot where the tower of stone and earth met the clouds. “So… we really can’t just fly up there? It’s not like it’s that high.”

“Nope.” Derpy hovered in the center of his circle, one eye following him while the other followed his gaze. “Protocol and all that. You don’t want some Windigos to get you, do you?”

“Hah!” He paused to puff out his chest and perform a walk-like strut in mid-air. It wasn’t as easy as it looked, which only enhanced his smugness. “I can take a bunch of popsicles.”

Just at that moment, a flash of blue light erupted from the sky. Something similar to thunder rolled through the air, and Gulfstream looked up in time to see the image of something vaguely equine and big outlined in the clouds. He flinched at the sight. “L-Listen to them, bunch of bullies. They know a threat when they see one!”

Another rumble, slightly louder, made him drop closer to the ground. To give him the room he’d need to charge, of course.

“That usually means somepony’s coming down,” Derpy said. “Looks like we’re right on time.”

He glanced at her curiously. “So you come here for deliveries a lot?”

She shrugged with a bored expression. “Oh, once a week or so. Even Wonderbolts need the postal service.”

Now his attention centered entirely on her. He’d never really thought about Derpy’s job before, but… “Doesn’t that include, like, top secret stuff?”

Another shrug. “Sometimes. Not usually.”

“And they let you deliver it?”

She blinked, then gained a sheepish smile. “What? I’m just a mailmare.”

“A mailmare handling super secret things that might be dangerous.” Gulfstream took a moment to swirl this idea around in his head. It dawned on him that Derpy was a lot more important a pony than he’d ever given her credit for.

No wonder he liked her.

Another bout of thunder rolled across the sky, catching his attention. The sound trailed behind that blue light, which spread out from a point near the earthen column like a ripple of water in a smooth pond. He kept looking for a sign of lightning, but it never came.

Then, in a smooth motion, the clouds immediately around the spire opened wide, roiling and churning like the edge of a storm as the thunder erupted in a continuous ruckus. The clouds around the area began to shine and flash, as if there might be azure explosions behind them. Gulfstream watched, jaw dropped, as a convoy of carriages and pegasi fled from the opening. The ponies spread apart as soon as they were clear of the clouds, all flying in their own unique directions and destinations.

One came hurdling straight towards them, trailed by a brilliant streak of electricity.

Gulfstream’s heart skipped a beat and, before he could even think about it, he darted forward. He broke into laughter and crashed right into Lightning’s chest. The impact knocked the breath from his lungs, but all he cared about was the hooves wrapping tightly around him.

Lightning let out a whoof of air and they dropped several feet before her wings flared to catch their descent. “Gulfie, you are getting way too big for that.”

He giggled like a mad foal. “Can’t talk, must snuggle.”

With a sigh, she squeezed him close and rested her cheek on his head. “It’s good to see you too, kiddo.”

“Hey, LD,” Derpy called before coming to a hover beside them. “One excitable colt, as ordered. He’s in your hooves know, Celestia help you.”

Lightning, still holding Gulfstream with one leg, reached out to accept her hoofbump. “Thanks for volunteering, Derpy. He didn’t give you too much trouble, did he?”

Gulfstream glanced at the deliverymare, quietly urging her response.

“He was well behaved the whole way,” she declared with a grin. “Your parents told me to tell you they’ve been really happy with him these past three weeks.”

Lightning barked a laugh and knuckled Gulfstream’s mane. “I knew you had it in you, Gulfie!”

“Hey, no fair!” He squirmed in her grasp in a determined effort to escape. “You’re supposed to catch me first!”

“Tough. Take it like a stallion.” Lightning laughed and didn’t stop, until at last he managed to squeeze out of her grasp. He glared at her for all of two seconds before descending into laughter as well.

“You better get up there,” Derpy warned. “Hole will be closing soon.”

Lightning’s laughter died. “Weren’t you going to come up?”

But the deliverymare shook her head. “Sorry, I got work. Don’t worry, though; I’ll be back the day after tomorrow to pick him up. I wasn’t going to leave you stuck with this knucklehead longer than necessary.”

“Hey!”

Lightning grabbed Gulfstream before he could do anything beyond that yell. “Sorry to hear it. See you later, Derpy!”

She rocketed up, and Gulfstream quickly forgot Derpy’s little jab. His heart swelled as the wind whipped through his mane. When he looked up, he found the great circle in the clouds opened wide before him.

Then it dawned on him how it would look to arrive at the Academy like this. “Hey, I can fly too, y’know.”

Lightning didn’t slow down, but she gave him a peering look. “You promise to stay right by me? Those clouds are no joke, Gulfie.”

He nodded against her chest. “Promise!”

Though she appeared hesitant, she complied. He spread his wings and quickly caught up, and the fact that he was flying alongside her at speed made his heart pound. Oh, she was probably going ‘slow’ for his sake, but it still felt good. Flying with Lightning always felt good.

Then they entered the cloud ring.

Despite how the clouds roiled and flashed, Gulfstream had expected the area between them and the pillar to the calm. Instead, fierce and icy winds buffeted him from all sides, roaring in his ears as if the windigos themselves were at his back! His wings worked overtime to keep him steady, and a glance revealed that Lightning was watching him out of the corner of her eye. Knowing he was being judged, Gulfstream didn’t dare complain.

It dawned upon him that this was all part of the defenses for one of Equestria’s three most important military bases. If the winds weren’t enough to deter a foe, the idea of falling onto the spikes below would probably do the trick. He couldn’t imagine what flying through the clouds would be like!

A flash of blue light drew his eye. Once again, he could just recognize the outline of what appeared to be a horse amid the clouds. Almost three times the size of a normal pony, blue-white contrails following its every motion, it cast one chilling gaze at him with flashing blue eyes before disappearing into the clouds once more.

And windigos. Those would scare just about anypony off by themselves. Gulfstream worked extra hard to keep from moving closer to Lightning.

Yet for all the anxiety he felt, his heart was racing… and he loved it. He whooped and laughed and embraced the cold, grinning like a foal. A hard wind knocked him off course towards the pillar, bringing him back to the present. Settling himself between the pillar and Lightning, he noticed his cousin’s smirk and hoped he wasn’t blushing.

Then, just as suddenly as it had started, the winds stopped. Gulfstream blinked and looked around, quickly realizing that they were truly above the clouds. They stretched out in a seemingly endless plain of grey, shimmering in the exposed sunlight. He looked down at the great opening beneath them and considered the possibility of diving back in, but that idea came to a crashing halt when the clouds closed up, leaving no trace of the passage.

“Gulfie, that was pretty cool.”

Lightning hovered over him, a proud smile on her lips. “You went through that the first time faster than half the new recruits.”

He chuckled and rubbed a hoof through his mane before striking a pose. “Well, what can I say? I come from a family of awesome.”

“Awesome and reckless.” The lightly whacked him on the head. “You realize that if you get caught in those clouds, nothing short of Celestia herself will be able to get you back out?”

He flinched and bowed his head. “Yeah… sorry, LD.”

When she didn’t answer, he looked up to discover her staring at him. “What?”

“Nothing.” Her smile returned, wider this time. “That’s just not the kind of reaction I was expecting.”

The blush came back to his cheeks and he glanced away… to find himself looking at the top of the spire. His brows rose as he took in the unnaturally flat surface, devoid of any grass. Just smooth dirt and rock. A few buildings took up space along the outer edge opposite them and a training runway took up half the surface. “Is that it?”

She hovered next to him and nodded. “The top of Hurricane’s Spire, training grounds for the Wonderbolts.”

“Yes!” Gulfstream began flying circles around Lightning. “I’m gonna see the Wonderbolts Academy!”

Lightning laughed and reached out a hoof to catch his leg. The two spun in place for a few cycles before she managed to slow him down. “Yeah, but that’s not it.”

His ears folded as he looked from her to the base. “What? But you said—”

“I said it was the training grounds.” She turned him around to face it, the tucked a hoof under his chin. She tilted his head up and he promptly gasped.

Hovering in the sky was a vast structure, an airship held aloft by not one, not two, but three massive blimps! Large propellers kept the thing moving in a lazy circle around the base, the underside comprised of a long, broad compartment that reminded Gulfstream of a falcon’s beak, complete with the curved tip near the front. Extra compartments rose like walls on either side of the air bags, giving the whole structure the image of a floating iron and stone fortress.

And there, emblazoned upon the front and sparkling in the sunlight, was the insignia of the Wonderbolts.

“That,” Lightning whispered in his ear, “is the Perilous, former command ship of the Quinese Aerial Army. Now? It’s the Academy.”

Gulfstream looked up at her, then back to the airship. All he could manage was a quiet “Wow.”









The interior of the Perilous was all hard metal and solid wood. Pipes ran everywhere, rivets held it all together, and the entire structure shook to a quiet humming. Uniformed ponies, many of them not pegasi, wandered about the hallways. Gulfstream had the mixed pleasure and uncertainty of standing on solid ground while thousands of feet in the sky, and the whole thing amazed him to no end.

“You mean Celestia stole this thing from the Qilin?”

Lightning tsked and shook her head. “No, she claimed it as one of the conditions to their surrender in the Mongol/Qilin Accord. Totally different.”

“Right.” He shifted from hoof to hoof; the vibrations in the ‘ground’ still didn’t sit well with him. He followed her through the halls, eyes roaming to images of officers and paintings of battles long past. “This place is amazing. I never thought something this big could fly. Is it magic?”

“Yep.” Lightning guided him into a carpeted area with a lot of wooden doors lining it. He saw the names of many a famous pony set in plaques on each, his eyes growing wider with each one. “They use enchanted crystals to power everything. Big ones, the size of a full grown stallion. I hear they have to replace them every decade or so. Come on.” She had to drag him away before he risked knocking on the door with Soarin’s name on it.

At the end of a hall was a wide shaft leading both up and down. Lightning launched, and Gulfstream followed. The interior of the shaft was far more utilitarian that the hallway, all metal bars and wires with very little lighting. They passed by what appeared to be a lift with assorted crates, carefully descending along rails and powered by a trio of unicorns.

After passing numerous floors – Gulfstream wondered just how many there were – they came to a landing. As Lightning continued to lead, Gulfstream pranced beside her. “So are there, like, weapons on this thing?”

Chuckling at his enthusiasm, she replied, “There used to be. The Qilin can’t fly on their own, so they loaded all kinds of things on the Perilous for self defense. But we’re pegasi; we can fly. It made more sense to make the ship a mobile staging platform.” She caught his uncertain frown. “Basically, it now carries soldiers to the battlefield.”

Gulfstream cocked his head to one side. After a few seconds of thought, he asked, “But if we can fly, why do we need something big and slow to carry us anywhere?”

“We don’t,” Lightning said, “but for unicorns and earth ponies, this thing’s a lifesaver. It’s the only mobile command center in the world, and that makes it super important.”

“But I thought you said it was the Wonderbolts Academy.”

She paused and gestured down a side hallway. “It is.”

Gulfstream looked into the hall and spotted a pair of doors. His eyes widened at the name on the plague above them: Capt. Spitfire – Wonderbolts and Academy Headmaster.

“Wow…”

Lightning grinned and tugged on his wing. “Come on, Kiddo. We’re not gonna bug the captain just so you can get an autograph.”

“But—”

“No buts.” She pulled him along, her tone softening. “Don’t worry, we’ve the rest of today and all of tomorrow. I’m betting you’ll meet her at dinner.”

Even so, Gulfstream’s eyes kept on the door right up to the last second.

More corridors, more uniformed ponies. At last they came to a stop in an average sized room with a long window over a bed; Lightning’s place. Gulfstream hopped onto the bed and pressed his hooves to the glass, staring with wide eyes at the clouds far below. Even as a pegasus, he found the whole experience riveting. “This is so cool.”

“I thought you might appreciate it.” Lightning walked over to a closet and pulled it open. “Check it out.”

He turned and felt his wings snap open to the sight of a Wonderbolts trainee flightsuit. “Whoa… is that yours?”

Lightning giggled and patted the garment. “It’s in my closet, so I sure hope so.”

He bounced on the bed, a grin splitting his face. “Put it on! Put it on put it on put it on!”

Her giggle became a laugh, but she closed the closet. “Hold on to your feathers, Gulfie. I want to talk to you first.”

He shook his head frantically. “No time for talking. Flightsuit, you, now.”

She grinned and walked over to the bed. “Nope. Talk first.”

He threw his head back and groaned. “Fine, let’s get it over with!”

“First, ground rules.” She leveled him with a serious expression. “I’ve got a map of the ship. I’m going to let you have it, Gulfie – to keep – but it’s more than just a souvenir. I want you to keep it with you and check it before you go anywhere. Some places are off limits, and you will not go where you’re not supposed to be. Got it?”

Realizing the importance of her words, Gulfstream sat down properly and nodded. “Got it.”

“Good. Second thing.” She pressed her hoof to his head and kept it there. “Several of the Wonderbolts are on the ship right now, but that doesn’t mean you can go hunting them down. They’re busy ponies and don’t have time to deal with crazy fans.”

He pulled back and rubbed his head. “But I thought the Wonderbolts loved their fans.”

“They do, but they’re also soldiers.” Her expression hardened once more. “This isn’t a raceway or an airshow, Gulfstream, this is a military base. Every member of the Wonderbolts is also a major officer of the Equestrian Air Force, and they have responsibilities besides looking cool. This is where they work, and you can’t go around interrupting that.”

He sighed, wings slouching onto the bed. “Fine…”

A few seconds passed. As he waited for her to continue with the next rule, he focused his attention on the bed. He could still feel the ship’s vibrations through it… but only barely.

The bed shifted. Lightning sat by him, her wing pulling him close. “Last thing,” she whispered in his ear. “I’m really proud of you.”

He glanced up, feeling just a spark of pleasure at her words. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She nuzzled his mane with a grin. “You’ve been good these last three weeks. You didn’t need me looking over your shoulder to do it, either. That’s great, Gulfie.”

His heart sank at her words. Had he been good? Really?

“What’s wrong?”

He turned away, head hanging to almost touch the bed. He knew he should tell her, but to do so meant admitting things. He pursed his lips and concentrated on the opening. It was like pulling teeth. “I met Rainbow. In Cragsleaf.”

It took several seconds for her to respond. “I see. Um… H-how was she?”

What would she want him to say? The truth? A lie? Did she still like Rainbow after all this time? “She’s… okay. I think. She’s joined a stunt team. That’s why she was there. On tour.”

“Oh. That’s good?”

There is was, the hesitation. The concern. It told Gulfstream everything he needed to know, and it tried to bring out that fire within him. Putting it out seemed easier these days.

“Gulfie?” Lightning slid off the bed so she could look him in the eye. “Is there something you wanted to tell me about Rainbow?”

For a fleeting moment, he thought he would admit it. He would open his mouth and confess to how he just couldn’t forgive the pony Lightning still cared about, how his promise to his parents already seemed so feeble as a result, how the only thing keeping him from doing something terrible was her. It almost happened.

And Lightning would be disappointed. She’d get angry at his failure. She might even decide he wasn’t ready for this and send him home. None of that mattered compared to the knowledge that he’d failed her, and she knew it.

So it didn’t happen. He pushed the urge down, no matter how badly he wanted to let it out, and locked it away.

“She… wanted you to…”

Lightning leaned closer, hope shining in her eyes. “Yes?”

The fire returned. It burned subtly, lit by the spark in those eyes. Eyes that revealed a desire to see, to know about, to be with Rainbow again. Gulfstream hated those eyes.

“She wanted me to tell you something, but… I forgot to write it down.”

Lightning stared at him for a moment. The way the light died in them, he thought she might be running a knife through his ribs.

“Oh. I… I see.” She patted his head. Her smile was weak. He hated that smile too. “That’s okay, Gulfie. I’m sure it was nothing.”

He bowed his head as she turned away. He didn’t feel at all like a good pony.

The fire simmered.
> Book III – Gulfstream: The Gears Turn
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------




I don’t think I’m very bright. I never did good in school, even when Lightning was helping me. I was focused on so many different things at the time, and Lightning’s success left me so happy. I know I had no way to know. Still pisses me off that I didn’t.

It’s so obvious. All the clues were right there. I should have seen the setup! Uncle Fine says I have no reason to think that, but he’s wrong. I should have known. If I had said something, if I had noticed the scheme, I might have been able to stop it. I could have warned Lightning.

Sometimes I hate myself so much.

—Gulfstream Dust, Book of Shadows XLVIII,
June 2, 1007












February 25, C.Y. 1004
Cloudsdale


Lightning busied herself with the small suitcase, the only one she ever needed for trips back to the Perilous. Gulfstream watched her from the door, taking great strides to avoid bouncing on the spot. Even so, his forehooves kept shifting about with the urge to trot in place.

Breathless, Lightning paused to re-read the letter she’d received that morning. “You’re sure you can handle yourself for a few days alone?”

He put on the most mature expression he could muster. “Sure. It’s just a week. Nothing to it.” If only his hooves would stay still.

She zipped up the suitcase, her Reserves Flightsuit disappearing within. “Remember to go by Mom and Dad’s every day. If you don’t they’re gonna start worrying.”

“I will.” His hind legs flexed with the urge to bounce. “Don’t worry, cuz, I’ve got this.”

“You’re sure?” She turned on him, lips pursed in apprehension. “I m-mean, it’s not that I don’t trust you, Gulfie, it’s just—”

“I know.” At last he couldn’t help it, hopping into the air with an excited cry. “You get to perform for Celestia! I’m not going to do anything to ruin that!”

“It’s not p-performing.” She brushed her mane back with a weak smile, but her eyes were shifting wildly. “It’s just a… a demonstration. That all. It’s not a b-big deal.”

“Is too!” He flew circles around her for the fifth time since the letter arrived. “You’re gonna fly with the Wonderbolts!”

“Only because Fleetfoot’s got the Feather Flu.” Lightning’s wings tightened around her body and she shivered. “B-but I’ll do alright. I will. I’m certainly not gonna mess this up for everypony.”

Gulfstream paused before her and set hooves to hips with a roll of his eyes. “Pu-lease, Lightning! Out of all the reserve ponies they could have chosen, they picked you, a rookie. They wouldn’t do that if you weren’t ready. Not that there was ever a time you weren’t ready.”

Lightning rubbed her hooves together, her eyes darting to the suitcase. “Yeah, but… in front of Celestia! Goddess, Gulfie, I can’t buck this up.”

The heat rose in Gulfstream’s mind, but he took it in practiced hooves and channeled it in another direction. “Hey, what’s the big deal? You were all confident and ready before the Best Young Flier’s contest. Now you’re acting more like Rainbow Dash did.”

She winced and stared at her hooves. “I know. It’s different, okay?”

Landing before her, he sat and looked up into her eyes. “How so?”

Lightning hesitated, her eyes shifting to the picture that still sat on the stand by her bed. “It’s… Well…” Her brow furrowed as she thought. “Hard to explain.”

He glanced at the image of him, her and Rainbow together. “Is it because she’s not here this time?”

“It’s related to her, yeah.” She shook her head with a sigh. “It’s complicated, okay? I’m not sure you’d get it.”

He shot her a deadpan frown. “I’m twelve, not two. And how is this any different from flying in front of Nightmare Moon?”

“Back then it was just me.” Lightning shivered once more, perhaps recalling being in the dreaded alicorn’s presence. “If I screw this up, it’s not just my tail on the line. It’s not that it’s her or her sister, it’s the stakes.”

He sighed and shrugged. “I don’t get it, but it doesn’t matter. You’re Lightning Dust, and you are the best flier in Equestria, young or not. Celestia can’t be anything but amazed at how awesome you’re gonna be.”

A smile drifted at last to Lightning’s lips. She bent down to nuzzle him. “Thanks, Gulfie. You’re the best cousin a mare could ask for, y’know that?”

He scoffed and flung his head back, imitating one of her haughty poses. “Of course I am. I come from a family of awesome.”

With a chuckle, she gave him a whack on the shoulder just strong enough to topple his unbalanced pose, sending him to the floor. Pouncing before he could respond, she proceeded to tickle him and blow raspberries on his belly. “You’re not so awesome as to best me!”

He roared with laughter and kicked frantically. It all proved fruitless, and after some time he admitted defeat amidst his tears. She sat back to let him up, taking on a prim pose of her own. “Train harder, kid.”

Laying on the floor with legs splayed, Gulfstream spent a few seconds huffing. Once he had recovered somewhat, he raised a weak leg in the air. “I’m gonna pay you back for that. Gimme a few years to get bigger.”

“Hah! Good luck.”

“Won’t need it.” He rolled onto his hooves and stood. “You watch me, Lightning, someday I’ll be as good a flier as you are.” He puffed out his chest and grinned. “Then I’m joining the Royal Guard!”

She patted him on the head. “Aww, aren’t you a cute little warrior? Better buff up, though; they’re not going to accept somepony who can’t even fight off a few tickles.”

He jerked away from her to glare. “I ain’t cute.” At her warm smile her turned away, the fire having shifted into his cheeks. “I ain’t.”

“Sure you aren’t, Gulfie. Not at all.” Lightning grabbed her suitcase and set it on her back, securing it with some travel belts. “I’ve got to go. If you’re gonna have any crazy parties while I’m gone, at least make sure the evidence is cleaned up before I get back.”

“Aww, do I have to?”

They shared a grin… and then Gulfstream jumped up to throw his hooves around her shoulders. “You’re gonna be great, Lightning. Rainbow might not be around anymore, but you’re still an inspiration to me.”

Lightning said nothing at first, but then returned the hug tightly. “Thanks, Gulfie. I’ll do my best.”

He sighed, resting his chin on her shoulder. There it was, that pleasant warmth, something so very different from the flame. “Then there’s nothing to worry about.”

They held the embrace for a time, Gulfstream soaking in the pleasant sensation he found with nopony else. When they finally separated, he offered a grin and pointed to Lightning’s bedroom door. “Now get out of here. I’ve got a party to plan!”

Lightning laughed and gave him one last nuzzle. “Alright, alright. Remember, kid, ya break it, ya bought it.”

He followed her to the door and even held it open for her, his wings buzzing with his quiet excitement. “Don’t worry, LD. When Celestia sees how awesome you are, she’ll insist the Wonderbolts make you an active member of the squadron right away!”

“Sure, and you’re gonna have a marefriend when I get back.” Lightning giggled at the disgusted expression he made before giving him on last pat on the shoulder. “I’d tell you to be good, but I don’t think you need me to anymore. So… see you later, Gulfie.”

Gulfstream’s jaw dropped as she left. Even after she disappeared from sight, he remained hovering by the door for some time, her words ringing in his ears. He slowly shut the door and landed in the middle of the hall.

She didn’t think he needed it anymore. His lips curled into a smile, his chest swelled, his eyes watered.

“Thanks, Lightning.”










February 28, C.Y. 1004
Cloudsdale


To say that Gulfstream was bored would be incorrect. Distracted was a better term. Not that the History of Celestia class was uninteresting; learning about how the princess vanquished Equestria’s foes like the changelings and brought peace to the world was action-y enough for him. Especially with a teacher like Miss Sun Dazed, who had a true gift for telling stories with flare and drama. Today, however, he just couldn’t keep up.

Two desks ahead and one to the right sat a black filly with a pleasant orange mane. Gulfstream had known of her ever since his Aunt Flit made him go to flight school, which he still insisted wasn’t necessary. Her name was Summer Showers, and in Gulfstream’s opinion there was nothing special about her. Average flyer, soft spoken, not very athletic, and one of the few remaining blank flanks in his class.

Despite all of this, she had his full attention, even if he did his best to hide it. He’d spent the last few months taking careful steps with Lightning’s and his personal project, and he had no intention of slacking on that with his cousin away. But Lightning didn’t know about this step. It was Gulfstream’s own personal challenge.

The bell rang just as Miss Dazed finished recounting Celestia’s apparently epic battle with King Sombra. As always, the abrupt sound startled her out of the moment; this time she ended up flopping onto her back with a yelp that had half the classroom laughing. She rose blushing, but didn’t hesitate to join in the laughter. After reminding all the foals of their homework due the next day, she dismissed the class.

Gulfstream already had his books in his pack. His eye followed Summer Showers and he walked a safe distance behind her, thinking of what he had to say. They had to be the right words. He just hoped she wouldn’t run away when he tried to talk to her.

Not that he would blame her.

After what he hoped was some good stalking – why did that sound so wrong in his head? – he finally saw an opportunity. Summer had stopped by one of the teachers' offices and, after nopony answered her knocking, now waited patiently by the door. By now most of the foals were well on their way out of the building, escaping to an afternoon of whatever normal foals did, so there was some margin of privacy.

Except that he knew that teacher would be coming by before long. Anxiety and urgency warred with his mind. After a time, he began to slowly approach. His legs felt like lead. His stomach dropped, his throat dried up. If he messed this up…

“H-hey, Summer?”

The filly gave a tiny jump, her wings jerking open. She turned to him and the blood rushed from her face. “Oh. Um… H-hi, Gulfstream.” She backed a few steps away, prompting him to lock his legs and come no closer.

He swallowed to moisten his throat. His wings twitched as the urge to fly away came to him, but he resisted. Inhale. Exhale. He recited the words in his mind. They sounded so hollow.

The filly sat – or perhaps her hind legs collapsed – and she hunched over, still staring up at him. “I’m s-sorry.”

He blinked, all his careful plans flying out the window as he took her apology in. “Wait… what? Why?”

“I don’t know.” She shook her head frantically. “W-whatever you’re gonna shout at me for.”

Shout at her? Gulfstream had only ever done that to her once, and that was years ago. Then again, with his reputation…

The fire arose, as expected. Gulfstream grabbed it and turned it around quickly, making sure his anger didn’t go anywhere near the shivering filly. The bite remained in his tone, though. “You didn’t do anything. I did.”

Summer’s trembling ceased and her ears perked. “What?”

He turned his face away, kicking at the cloud floor and glaring at the wall. “I wanna apologize.”

She gaped at him for a few seconds. Her gaze made him uncomfortable, but he absolutely refused to let that feed the flame. At last she managed to repeat, “What?”

His teeth ground together. He took another long inhale. Then an equally long exhale. The tension in his body fell away enough that he could look at her again. “When I clipped your wing. It was an accident, but… I should have been nicer about it. I shouldn’t have laughed.”

“Clipped my wing?” She frowned and looked back at her unusually small wings, giving them a light flap. “That was years ago.”

He winced and bowed his head. “Yeah. Sorry it took so long. To say I’m sorry, I mean.”

She tapped her chin with a hoof, staring up at the ceiling. “But… you did.”

Gulfstream shook his head. “I didn’t mean it, not back then. I only said it ’cause the teacher made me.” He looked directly into her green eyes, trying to force his sincerity to the surface. His entire body felt tense. “I mean it this time. I’m sorry.”

She studied him, first with uncertainty, then with concern. She tapped her hooves together in a sheepish manner. “This is really hard for you, isn’t it?”

Another spark. The rush to push it down was a bit more frantic this time. He groaned and bowed his head. “That obvious, huh?”

She flinched and eyed her still-tapping hooves. “W-well, you had this really angry look when you said it.”

He believed it. He considered what to say next, rubbing his mane back and staring at the cloud floor. “I’m always angry. Really, I am. I get angry for no reason. I...” Why was he telling her this? It wasn’t as if she could help him.

“Look, I’m just sorry, okay?” He gave her a look he prayed was more hopeful than frustrated. He was certainly feeling both.

She cocked her head one way, then the other. Her eyes never left his. He shrank a little under her calm scrutiny. In his mind, he yelled at her; was she going to accept or not?

Then… she smiled.

“Thank you, Gulfstream.”

His jaw dropped. “Really? Y-you mean it?”

She nodded, her smile only broadening. “Thank you very much! You’re nicer than you know.”

Gulfstream stared at her. Then, slowly, he returned the smile. Then he giggled. He sat, threw his head back and laughed, making her jump back in surprise. Not that he blamed her; his reaction startled him. He didn’t care. He was too happy to care.

He’d done it. The next step had been taken. It felt like an important step. Maybe he really could be a good pony.

“Umm, are you alright?”

“I’m great!” He hopped into the air to hover over her. “I really, really didn’t think you’d accept my apology. Thank you so much!”

Her smile came back. It was a really nice smile. “Of course I accepted. It was sincere.”

It was. It really was. Even if she hadn’t accepted, this would have been a huge step forward. Gulfstream flew a couple quick circles to vent some energy, the resulting wind blowing Summer’s mane wildly. “This is great!”

“A-hem.”

He froze, wings snapping closed. The result was that he went plummeting sideways into the cloud floor, rolling to a stop in a sitting position. He looked back to see the ever-imposing frame of Mr. Fog Horn, who stared down his white muzzle at Gulfstream.

“Flying in the halls is fine, Mr. Dust, but your speed is more than a little excessive.”

There it was, that bloom of heat in gulfstream’s mind.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Gulfstream stood properly and turned to the teacher before bowing his head. “Sorry, Mr. Horn. I guess I got a little too excited.”

The stallion’s eyebrows rose; clearly this wasn’t the response he had been expecting. “Umm… That’s okay. Just try to contain yourself next time.”

“Yes, sir.” Gulfstream nodded politely – even as in his mind he was hissing insults. They faded quickly as his eyes went to the nice smile of Summer. He waved to her and turned away. “See you tomorrow, Summer.”

“Bye, Gulfstream.”

If the teacher hadn’t been staring holes into his back, Gulfstream might have flown out at top speed. That not being an option, he settled for a prance, head held high and heart soaring. He couldn’t wait to tell Lightning about this! He could almost hear her adoring praise. Too bad she wouldn’t be home for several more days.

Which only made this moment better; he’d done it on his own. He giggled at his own initiative.

He was almost to the school’s exit when he felt somepony grab him. A hoof fell over his muzzle and another wrapped around his midsection, and before he could even register what had happened he was jerked into the colt’s bathroom.

This time, he made no attempt whatsoever to hold back the fire.

Immediately registering the size of his opponent based on the weight pressed to his side, he figured he was under attack from an adult. His folded wing curled over his own back as far as it could manage before thrusting out, jabbing into the pony’ soft underbelly just behind the ribs. This was enough to make his opponent yelp – a mare, by the voice – and loosen her hold. He instantly kicked off the floor, his right elbow coming up to smack the pony’s muzzle. Now with enough room to spread his wings, he did so and flapped, twisting his body around to deliver a straight buck with his left hind leg against the pony’s chest. He landed facing her, legs splayed and wings opened wide.

As the pony fell on her side, realization swept over Gulfstream like a flood. The fire winked out, replaced by an abrupt horror: he’d just attacked somepony! Not just attacked, that could have done some serious damage. How did he even know what to do? It had been instinctual, reactionary, but that didn’t mean it was right. He should have had more control!

What if Lightning found out? How could she not? Would she be disappointed? She might never leave him to fend for himself again.

No, wait, more important; what if this meant he hadn’t progressed at all? Good ponies don’t attack other ponies, right? He’d promised not to start any fights!

Hold on… that had been self defense. That made it okay, didn’t it? Yeah, he’d been attacked first, so—

At last his mind snapped back to where it probably should have been from the beginning: his attacker. To his surprise, she hadn’t jumped back up to resume her assault. She lay on the floor, and now that he had a good look at her his heart all but stopped.

“R… Rainbow?”

With a groan, Rainbow sat up. Her hooves touched gingerly at her muzzle; there was blood dripping from one of her nostrils. “Dang, kid, you can really pack a wallop. I’m impressed.”

A new clash entered Gulfstream’s head; he’d just attacked Rainbow Dash! He’d always wanted to do that, but at the same time, he hadn’t known who he’d been hitting. So… did it count? Should he be ashamed? Proud? Worried over how Lightning would react? Wait, if it was Rainbow… would Lightning even find out?

All of his confusion led him to say the only thing that his mouth could pull off at the time: “What the hay are you doing here?”

“Hold on.” Rainbow stood and slipped into one of the stalls. She returned a second later with some toilet tissue pressed to her muzzle, the blood seeping into it in small dots. After a few dabs, she sat before him once more. Her voice came out with a nasal quality. “Where’d you learn to fight like that? I know Lightning’s not teaching you this kind of thing.”

He kicked at the floor, head low. “I dunno. I just… reacted.”

“Fighter’s instincts,” she observed as if she were a scientist examining a curious specimen. “Huh. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised by that.” She checked the tissue, breathed through her nose a couple times, then reapplied it. “Bet you’d make a good Royal Guard.”

He might have been thrilled by that statement if he weren’t so confused. “What’s the big idea, grabbing me like that?”

She sobered quickly, eyes darting about as if she expected somepony to overhear. Which was silly, since they were in a small bathroom. The colts bathroom, Gulfstream reminded himself.

This suddenly seemed very awkward.

“Sorry, Gulfstream. I’m, uh, kinda sorta maybe hiding.”

“Hiding?” He sat and rubbed the side of his head. “Hiding from what?”

“Can’t say.” She pulled the tissue away from her face and sniffed a few more times. Apparently satisfied that the bleeding had stopped, she tossed the tissue into a nearby stall. When she turned back to him, her expression was deathly serious. “I had to talk to you. I’m real sorry I jumped you like that, but I’m trying to keep a low profile.”

He cocked his head, wishing she would start making sense. “Why would you want to talk to me?”

“Well, um…” She sat back, tapping her hooves together in a curiously good impression of Summer Showers. “Y-you remember back at the Frequent Young Fliers Competition? Like… how you got to spend time with Nightmare Moon? You haven't seen her since then, have you?”

His ears perked and his eyebrows rose. “I wish. That would be awesome. But why are you bringing that up? It was ages ago.”

Rainbow fidgeted, her wings twitching. “A-are you sure? Like, maybe you saw her in your dreams?”

Gulfstream’s lips jerked up in a hopeful smile. “Can she do that? Visit ponies in their dreams?”

“I don’t know, that’s why I’m here!” Rainbow hunched over, her eyes wide but her pupils small. They danced around the room as her breathing sped up. “Why would she come to see me? It doesn’t make sense. I-I’m not worthy of that kind of attention. I’m a loser!”

He almost backed that statement up, but just stopped himself. Lightning’s voice berated him from the depths of his mind, reminding him that it would have been mean. So instead he asked, “So you’re dreaming of Nightmare Moon?”

Rainbow’s eyes fell upon him and she froze. It was almost like she had forgotten his presence. “N-no, not her. Luna. Princess Luna.”

He cocked his head yet again. “Aren’t they the same?”

“I don’t know. Are they?” She rubbed her face with both hooves. “I don’t know. I just keep dreaming about her. A-and she smiles and encourages me and… and… I don’t know! I thought that, since you’ve met, you might know more about her.”

Gulfstream hunched over, ears folding back. “I’m sorry, Rainbow. I only met her that one time. I mean, she let me hold her sword… you don’t care about that.” He shook his head. “I haven’t had any—”

He blinked, thinking back on the dreams he did have. They were usually either action-oriented or nightmares of being… what he thought he might become. But sometimes… “S-sometimes I see her eyes.”

Rainbow’s hooves lowered slowly. She stared at him with a tired expression. “Her eyes?”

He gave a happy sigh and nodded. “I still remember them. They were amazing. Sometimes I’ll see them in my sleep. I always feel stronger when I do.”

She studied him for a few more seconds, her disheveled mane dangling before her eyes. She smiled. “Yeah… she has really nice eyes, doesn’t she?” The smile faded quickly and she bowed her head. “But why would she look at me? I’m just a screw up. Couldn’t even pass flight school…”

Gulfstream studied her old… enemy? Whatever Rainbow was. He tried to think of something to say, but the proper words eluded him. His dislike for her might have mellowed with time, but he still didn’t think he could bring himself to comfort her. Or could he? That was the ‘good pony’ thing to do, wasn’t it?

What would Lightning do in this situation?

Rainbow’s head rose just a fraction. “H-hey, what about Lightning? She’s pretty awesome. Maybe she’s seeing Luna.”

While that did sound a lot more plausible to Gulfstream than the princess visiting Rainbow, he could only shrug. “If Lightning dreams of her, she never said anything to me.” An ear perked as a thought hit him. “Come to think of it, she’ll be seeing Princess Celestia tomorrow.”

Rainbow’s head snapped to attention, her eyes going wide. “Really?”

“Yeah.” He grinned at her awed expression, only to realize that he was reveling. He wasn’t happy for Lightning just then, he was happy that it was her and not Rainbow. He didn’t feel shame, but he could just see Lightning’s angry gaze bearing down on him. “I m-mean, yeah. Celestia’s visiting the Academy and wanted a demonstration from the Wonderbolts. One of the members is sick. Lightning’s in the reserves, so…”

“So they called her in.” Rainbow whistled through her teeth. “Wow. A rookie replacing a full time member. Way to go, LD.”

Knowing it was a shot in the dark, Gulfstream leaned forward with one hoof raised in apprehension. “Do you think that may have something to do with your dreams?”

Rainbow blinked, then sat back to think on the subject. She gazed at the floor with a pursed frown, her wings flicking lightly. “Maybe? It could be a coincidence. Why would Luna even look at me if they wanted to talk to Lightning? Luna never mentioned Lightning.”

Gulfstream scratched at his ear, eyes never leaving her. “Are you sure they aren’t just dreams?”

“They… might be?” Rainbow glanced over her shoulder at the fogged window near the ceiling. “But they happen a lot, they’re different every time, and—” Her mouth clamped closed and she hunched over once again.

He leaned forward. “And?”

Chewing her lip, Rainbow ran a hoof through her mane. And again. Her wings spread, flapped once, started to fold but stopped halfway. Gulfstream couldn’t help but notice the disheveled look of her feathers.

“I th-think I’m being followed.”

She said it with such dread that Gulfstream was tempted to believe the claim, even going so far as to glance at the door behind him. “Really?”

“M-maybe I’m just paranoid. Maybe it’s a coincidence.” She rubbed her face with both hooves. “A whole bunch of coincidences. Right, as if.”

Gulfstream cocked his head. “But who would want to follow you?”

Rainbow threw up her hooves. “I don’t know!” She promptly slapped a leg over her muzzle, eyes wide. When she spoke again, her tone was much quieter. “I don’t know. The Archons, maybe?”

“The Archons.” Gulfstream didn’t doubt that Rainbow believed she was being stalked, but… “Unless you’re planning on attacking Princess Celestia, I don’t think the Archons are after you.”

Her voice took on a panicked quality. “But Luna’s talking to me in my dreams. W-what if she’s got them watching me for something?” She appeared to shrink, body dropping low. “M-maybe Celestia’s keeping an eye on me. Maybe she thinks Nightmare Moon is trying to turn me against her.”

Gulfstream’s wings sagged to the floor as he attempted to comprehend that statement. He tried to picture Princess Luna and Nightmare Moon manipulating Rainbow somehow. Luna was supposedly good and Nightmare Moon was supposedly bad, but weren’t they the same pony? And Celestia wouldn’t fear the Nightmare, she dealt with her every century like clockwork. And didn’t the papers make it clear that Princess Luna was…

His thoughts came crashing down and she shook his head. “This is way too hard. Couldn’t you, like, go to Canterlot and ask? Don’t they hold courts for this kind of thing?”

“Are you kidding?” Rainbow shook her head in turn, only much more frantically. “If the Archons are after me, that’s the last place I wanna go!”

Gulfstream scowled and crossed his hooves. “If the Archons were after you, I think you’d be dead by now.”

Gritting her teeth, she surveyed the room yet again, as if somepony might have snuck in while they were talking. “Oh, no. That’s not how the Archons work. It won’t be obvious or direct. Th-they’ll get me when I’m least expecting it!”

His frown turned deadpan yet again. “And since you expect them to get you in Canterlot, they won’t go after you there?”

She blinked, her eyes at last centering on him fully. Seconds passed, even her shivering and fidgeting having come to a stop.

“That’s… not a bad point, actually.”

Gulfstream’s brows rose. He found himself at a loss for words; had he just helped Rainbow Dash? Had he meant to?

Rainbow sat up and tapped her chin, still studying him. “Yeah… That might work. If I go to Canterlot to talk to Celestia or Luna, there’s no way the Archons can hit me.”

He was still trying to figure out why they would want to.

“I’ll be too close to the princesses, it’ll look bad. Yeah… yeah!” The brightness in her eyes returned and a wary smile formed on her lips. “At the very least, I might be able to get answers. If I hurry, I can be out of here and at the castle gates before the Archons even know where I’m going!”

Gulfstream rubbed his leg as he studied her, not following her logic at all. “So, uh… You’re going to Canterlot, then?”

She reared onto her hind legs, sticking one forehoof high as she proclaimed, “To Canterlot!”

Silence lingered as Gulfstream stared. There was Rainbow, complete with a bruised face and chest and raised as if proclaiming some victory… in a colt’s bathroom. As if recognizing the ludicrous nature of the moment, Rainbow dropped down and rubbed the back of her head, cheeks going crimson. “Uh… yeah, maybe we should get out of here.”

They stepped out into the hall – after Gulfstream bothered to check to make sure nopony would see a grown mare leaving the colt’s bathroom. As they turned for the exit, Rainbow set a hoof to his shoulder. “Hey. Thanks for hearing me out, Gulfie. You were the only pony I could think of to talk to.”

He looked up at her with an uncertain frown. As much as he disliked the idea, “What about Lightning? She met Nightmare Moon too, you know?”

Rainbow flinched, her smile fading in a flash. “I… don’t think that’s a good idea. She probably—” Her eyes went wide as they went to the school doors. Her wings snapped open and she abruptly turned around. “Gotta go!” In a rainbow-colored blur, she disappeared deeper into the school.

He stared at where she’d just been, only a blink of the eyes hinting at his surprise. He turned his gaze forward.

A white pegasus approached him via a series of high bounces, her curly blond mane flopping with her motions. Her purple eyes fell upon him as she neared. “Hey there, Gulfstream! How ya doin?”

He gaped. “How do you know my name?”

“I don’t,” she replied smoothly, grinning. Her wings opened and gave a powerful flap that lengthened her last bounce, sending her sailing right over his head. Her tail fell over his muzzle as he turned to follow her movements.

“But you just said—”

Her merry voice interrupted. “Don’t be silly, Gulfstream. How could I know your name when we’ve never met before?”

She bounced off, singing a wordless but happy tune. Gulfstream stared after her, catching her cutie mark of purple balloons. He continued to gape long after she disappeared down the hall. Finally, he turned for the doors and left the school at a trot.

He’d had enough of mares and fillies for one day.










March 4, C.Y. 1004
Cloudsdale


The instant he heard the front door open, Gulfstream abandoned his math homework and zoomed through the house. He came to a rough landing in the hall just when Lightning stepped past the threshold. “Welcome back!”

She grinned and spread her hooves wide. “What, no tackle this time?”

He obliged, jumping into her with a happy cry. She giggled and nuzzled his mane. “So, how many crazy parties did you have?”

“Only about a dozen.” He rubbed his cheek against her chest, delighting in the sound of her heartbeat. “And I replaced the windows. Twice.” He pulled back to look up at her. “So how did the demonstration go?”

Lightning’s eyes lit up like beacons in the night, dim only in comparison to her grin. “It was amazing. Couldn’t have gone better!”

He flew back and hoof-pumped. “I knew you’d be great! I bet Celestia was so impressed she wanted to praise to you personally.”

“That’s right.”

Whatever cheer had been on his lips, it died instantly. His legs fell limp at his sides and he almost lost control of his wings. He stared at her beaming face and realized that she was being serious. “Y-you mean she really did?”

Lightning whinnied – something he had never heard her do – and did a little dance. “Even better than that, I got to have dinner with a princess! She went on and on about how impressed she was!”

“Wow.” Gulfstream could conjure no other words. Since that seemed insufficient, he decided to try again. “Wow.”

Lightning pulled off her suitcase and hurried to open it. “It gets better.”

“Better?” He landed on his haunches. “How could it get better?”

Lightning paused, both forehooves in the suitcase, and gave him a cheeky grin. “Celestia didn’t just go to the Academy to review the Wonderbolts, she went to make an announcement.” She pulled out a flier and displayed it to him. “Early next year there’s going to be a big contest where ponies demonstrate all their skills. Guess what the grand prize is?”

He grabbed the flier and studied it. It had the Wonderbolts logo emblazoned across the top and a number of names and details he didn’t care for. His eyes skimmed it for the important part… and when they found it he gasped. “Immediate acceptance.”

“That’s right!” Lightning’s grin grew. “The winner will officially join the Wonderbolts! Skip the mandatory reserve years, bypass the tests, don’t worry about professional recommendations. Instant. Wonderbolt.”

A shuddering breath escaped Gulfstream. He stared up at Lightning with wonder. “L-Lightning... that’s awesome.”

She raised a hoof high. “Not nearly as awesome as this: most ponies have to apply and be accepted to join the tournament, but Princess Celestia and Princess Luna are each hoofpicking one pony to represent them in it. And…” Her grin broadened as she reached into the suitcase and pulled out a letter bordered in gold with Celestia’s cutie mark emblazoned on it. “Guess who Celestia picked?”

Gulfstream couldn’t breathe. His mouth bobbed open and closed like a fish, tiny squeaks barely making their way through his throat. Were he paying any attention, he’d have thought his entire body was shaking apart. When at last the air found its way into his lungs, he let out what was nothing short of a delighted scream.

This time when he tackled her, Lightning was knocked right through the open doorway.
> Book III – Gulfstream: Competition, Part II
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------




Rainbow Dash. Just her name fills me with venom. I feel so hot I think the book might burn in my hooves. After everything she’s done   everything she did

I gave her the benefit of the doubt. I tried to be accepting. What did I get for it?

I hate her hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate HATE HER

I should have left her down there to freeze! Why didn’t I do it? If I had, where would we be? Would Lightning have even known of my involvement? Maybe maybe not. But it would have been bucking worth it!

I feel sick

Hate

She called me

Luna damnthat pony IhopeTartarus takes herevery pony sheever metwould be better offifthatcuntwasdead

—Unsigned, presumed Gulfstream Dust, Book of Shadows XLVIII,

June 3, 1007












January 18, C.Y. 1005
Cloudsdale


Gulfstream pouted as he stared at the equation in his homework scroll. If he hadn’t known better, he’d have thought steam were rising from his ears. “Math is stupid.”

Summer Showers looked up from her own homework scroll, sitting across from him on a small cloud. “You just need to practice.”

“No, it’s stupid.” He flicked the corner of the paper with a lone hoof, his cheek resting on the other. “These numbers and letters don’t make sense.”

The filly set her scroll down and stood, flexing her wings around her brown jacket. “Let me see.” He didn’t bother to stop her as she flew a small, slow circle and landed beside him. She knelt down and examined the problem at the top of his scroll. “Oh, that’s not so bad.”

“Is too,” he grumbled, cheeks burning. “There’s no way to make that work.”

Summer dropped onto his cloud with a faint floomph. “Just think of it as having a goal.”

He ground his teeth together. She made it sound so easy. “I tried that.”

“Come on, Gulfstream. Let me walk you through it.” She tapped the paper, encouraging him to look. “See, this seven doesn’t have a letter next to it. What does that mean?”

He shrugged. “It’s lonely?”

She giggled. It sounded nice. “Not exactly, but close enough. Now, on the other side of the equal sign, what do you see?”

Her tone made him feel foalish, but he studied the equation anyway. “A five.”

She nudged him gently with her elbow. “And?”

“And… it’s also lonely?”

“Good!” She circled the two numbers with his pencil. “So let’s put them together. How do we do that?”

“I… uh…” He peered at the numbers, half-hoping the answer would rise up from the paper. Eventually he sighed. “Move the seven with the five?”

“Close!” Her wing rub his back. Part of him wanted to knock it away, but only because he didn’t want her to know how much he liked it. “We need to add by seven. See?”

He watched as she wrote a new equation on the scroll. “So… we can just take the seven away?”

“We didn’t take it away.” She tapped the number twelve she’d written. “We added it to five, making twelve. That’s what you do with lonely numbers, you add or subtract them together.”

“So why didn’t we subtract?”

She tapped the negative sign next to the seven in the original equation. “Because we want to make the seven on this side be zero.”

“But… it’s not.”

“Hmm…” Summer tapped her chin, eyes roaming the bright blue sky over their heads. “We have negative seven. Right?”

“Uh-huh.”

“What happens when you add seven to negative seven?”

“It becomes…” He paused, squinting at the equation again. “Oooooh. So why don’t we write the zero?”

Her smile turned hopeful. “Because we don’t need it anymore, see? Zero is nothing.”

“Huh… I think I get it.” He thought on it for a few more seconds, cocking his head one way, then another. “So what about the one with the letter?”

“Well, what’s the goal?”

“Oh, right.” He reached for the pencil, which she returned to him, and promptly divided the whole thing by three. “And that makes ‘B’ be ‘four,’ right?”

“You got it!” Summer wrapped a leg around his neck in a brief hug, and he couldn’t resist a smile. He liked how soft her coat was. “See, it’s not that hard.”

“It kinda is.” He fiddled with his pencil, blushing at her smile. “I get confused when you make the equations bigger. There’s all these rules you gotta follow.”

She rubbed her wing along his back once again, and he shivered at the contact. “Don’t worry, you’ll get it. And if you have any trouble, just ask me! I’m happy to help, Gulfie.”

His breath caught in his throat at the nickname. “W-what did you call me?”

Summer winced and pulled her wing back, retreating from him as if afraid of being stung. The cool winter air quickly filled up the space she’d taken up. “I heard Lightning call you that. You don’t like it?”

“It’s not that,” he hurried to reply, raising a placating hoof, but she still had a hurt frown. Scrambling for an explanation, he came up with, “I just didn’t expect to like it when anypony else said it.” He flinched; that didn’t come out at all like he’d intended.

Her worry was traded for a beaming smile. “Then I can keep calling you that?”

“S-sure.” Why wouldn’t his cheeks stop burning? “If you want to, I mean.”

“Aww, thanks, Gulfie!” And then, before he could even think to stop her, she leaned forward and rubbed the tip of her muzzle with his.

His wings popped open more or less immediately. He had no idea why, and that only made his embarrassment more mortifying. He buried his head beneath his legs and moaned. “Please don’t do that!”

She laughed again. If it were any other pony, he’d have considered attacking a semi-legitimate option right about now. Well, anypony other than Lightning. But this was Summer; he liked her and her laugh, so he took it like a big colt and hoped nopony saw.

“You’re cute, Gulfie.” He heard her flap back to her own scrolls. “I’ve gotta go, I have flute practice soon. Can’t be late. If you still don’t get it, come by and ask. You’ll get through it, Gulfie, I guarantee it!”

He waved her off with a lone hoof, the other still over his blushing face. He remained flopped on the ground for a while, willing his wings back into place. It took some time before they started to fold back against his—

Wait, did Summer just call him cute?

Fwoomph.

“Oh, come on!”









It had taken nearly an hour to get his wings back under control. Gulfstream had resorted to building a thick mound of clouds around himself to keep other ponies from seeing, even though he still had no idea why it embarrassed him so much. Every time he’d almost have them folded at his sides, he’d think of how much he liked Summer’s black coat, or how their muzzles touched, or some other seemingly insignificant little thing that made him start all over again. At last he’d managed to keep them down, but only by thinking nonstop about boring things – not math! – and biting hard on his leg whenever Summer so much as crossed his mind.

By the time he felt confident enough to fly home, the sun was low in the sky. He’d blown so much time, and he was supposed to have finished all his homework today. Granted, he only had math left to finish, and Lightning would be okay with that. Or so he believed. What if she wasn’t? What if she asked why he hadn’t finished? He did not want to broach the subject of his traitorous wings with her. Anypony but her.

But coming home after dark would be worse than not having finished his homework. If his homework wasn’t done, she might ask about it. If he came home late, she absolutely would. So, taking the lesser risk, he shoved his school supplied into his pack and left the park for home.

The Cloudsdale suburbs stretched out below him, comprised of hundreds of cloud islands floating along to their own rhythm. Unlike the inner town, none of these were connected by bridges or walkways. Earth pony and unicorn visitors were rare enough there, they certainly had no reason to be out here. Gulfstream liked it this way; letting the clouds float on their own just felt more natural to him.

He glanced at the sun and determined that he had the time. He took a look at the cloud islands below; there weren’t many ponies visible. A quickie wouldn’t hurt anything… and it would help to keep his mind off of Summer.

His mind made up, Gulfstream secured his school saddle, folded his wings… and dove. The frigid wind whipped against his grinning face as he darted around clouds like a red missile, weaving amongst the islands with precision. The few ponies who saw him caught only a blurry glimpse of red.

The wind stung his face, the clouds and structures flashed past! His wings no longer buzzed – they were too big for that now – but their powerful muscles and unusual wingspan more than made up for the loss of flapping speed. He tucked, rolled, cartwheeled, every simple trick in the book. Lightning had taught him well.

With a giddy laugh, he banked, turned upside down and dove, punching through the lowest cloud layer. The winds were harsher here, threatening to knock him around with powerful gusts, but he’d learned from the best. He let the winds propel him, felt their cool caress with his feathers, redirected their strength to maintain his momentum!

With a cry of delight, he broke through. The air was full of fresh snow falling all around. He could feel each snowflake hit him, a fresh sting of needles that invigorated and thrilled. He danced among them, creating swirling tornadoes with his strong wings. Sometimes he would fly upside down and use them to push the snow back up, creating a thin layer of floating snow that followed his own path. Once the layer was too thick for him to hold that way, he’d dart upwards, bursting through like a fish from water. He couldn’t help but imagine the sight as something magnificent.

When he tired of playing in the snow, he lowered his altitude and took in the land below. The world was covered in white, a magical carpet. Sometimes he wondered how it was that the Earth ponies and the unicorns could survive with so much of it, but Lightning always assured him that it wasn’t as bad as it looked.

But it sure was pretty. He wanted to go down to the ground, but knew better; it was too far, and he’d never get home before dark if he did. And Lightning would know if he went that far. She always did, somehow. Still, he’d like to bring Summer down there. She’d never been. He could just imagine her lying in the snow, her black coat—

“No!”

He came to an abrupt stop, hovering in place and whacking himself on the head a few times with both hooves. “Don’t think about her! Now is not the right time!” It took no small effort to keep his wings from locking up.

This had been a foolish thing to do. With his wings behaving so strangely, how could he have even considered flying beneath the cloud cover?

But, just as he started to turn back for Cloudsdale, Gulfstream saw something out of the corner of his eye. When he looked again, all thoughts of Summer and Cloudsdale left him; there were lights coming from atop one of the wooded hills. They were purple, and many of them flew high in the sky, attempting to catch a swirling, diving, corkscrewing rainbow.

His moment of weakness forgotten, Gulfstream watched the display in quiet curiosity. That rainbow could only belong to one pony, and his brain screamed at him to stay away. But the lights? The beams? The way the trees shook? He couldn’t escape the thought that Rainbow Dash was in a fight of some kind, and that had his full attention.

He hovered for some time, indecision weighing him down. How would he explain being late to Lightning if he went down there? Well, if Rainbow was in a fight, and she got hurt, wouldn’t Lightning want to know about it? The thought that Lightning would almost certainly fret over Rainbow’s wellbeing ignited that familiar spark within him. It was almost enough to make him fly back to Cloudsdale and leave Rainbow to her fate.

But… a fight. A real, bonafide, no holds barred fight. Eagerness sent tingles down his spine. This was an opportunity to see something brutal. Could he really pass it up? Ignoring the lecturing voice of Lightning in his head, Gulfstream tucked in his wings once more and flew for the sight, hoping he wasn’t risking his tail for a flashy stunt routine.

If Rainbow noticed his approach, she showed no sign of it. The closer he got, the more her bobbing and weaving looked like dodges, the purple attacks barely missing her. Gulfstream had no intention of joining the fight – a longing, sure, but not an intention – and so flew under the leafless canopy of the forest. He darted amongst the wide tree trunks, eyes shifting upwards on occasion to follow the lights to their source.

He landed as soon as the sound of magic reached his ears. He continued at a trot, hoping his hoofprints in the snow wouldn’t give him away. Black marks began to appear on the trees, and every now and then he’d come across a large circle of melted snow. A grin formed on his lips as Rainbow darted overhead, an angry shout on her lips and a stream of lasers in her wake.

No question now, Rainbow was in a fight. With a unicorn.

Things just got a lot more interesting.

Gulfstream topped a tall hill and came to a stop. There, standing with eyes focused and horn shining like a beacon, was a purple unicorn. The mare’s head swung about to follow Rainbow’s flight, beams shooting from her horn at a rapid pace. Gulfstream dove behind a tree and hoped she didn’t notice the sudden movement.

“You can’t beat me by just dodging,” the stranger shouted.

Rainbow’s counter was mocking. “Wanna bet on that, egghead?”

“Mature.”

Keeping his barrel flat against the tree, Gulfstream peeked around it to watch with bated breath. Rainbow swooped low over the unicorn’s head, making her mane fly up in the backwash. A transparent purple wall formed and tried to get in her way, but was too slow. Though the stranger’s face remained stiff with concentration, she didn’t seem at all frustrated.

She turned to follow Rainbow once more, and Gulfstream got a look at her cutie mark: a large star. He’d seen that somewhere before…

Rainbow weaved through trees that took the brunt of a large ball of energy. “Face it, you can’t stop me! No mere unicorn can, I proved that when I took down that prim and proper fashion pony.”

Gulfstream’s ears perked; this wasn’t the first unicorn she’d fought?

“Rarity?” The stranger scoffed even as she fired more beams. “Her magic is limited. She spends all her time sewing. I study it constantly, every day!”

Rainbow paused overhead just long enough to shout, “And that’s supposed to impress me?” She departed in a blur, easily avoiding a long stream of energy. “What do bookworms know about fights?”

As loathe as he was to give Rainbow any credit, Gulfstream had to admit he was impressed with how easily she danced around the unicorn’s attacks. He couldn’t help but wonder how the pony ever thought she could win. Yet, as he looked at the stranger’s face, he also wondered why she didn’t seem to be trying.

Perhaps this was all staged after all? He glanced around, noting that they were in the middle of nowhere. What was the point of staging a fight if nopony could see it? So maybe it was real?

A flash of colors blew past the other side of his tree, prompting him to duck back behind the trunk. A violet light flashed all around in a noisy eruption of snow, dirt and splintered wood. As soon as the noise died, he glanced around to see a large, charred crater in the tree he was hiding behind.

Definitely real.

It was then that Gulfstream realized that his situation was precarious for many different reasons. Obviously, he should root for the pegasus to beat the unicorn. But that pegasus was Rainbow Dash; could he really bring himself to support her? At the same time, that unicorn wasn’t pulling her bucks. Rainbow could get seriously hurt, and he couldn’t let that happen. Lightning would be crushed!

And then there was the obvious danger he’d put himself in. Gulfstream liked to think that the risks didn’t scare him, but he had to admit that magical blasts leaving holes in trees were intimidating. Even if he accepted the risk and tried to help, would he really be helping or would he just get in the way? He wasn’t so confident in himself to think he could brawl his way out of a fight like this. And of course, he’d be helping Rainbow, the last pony he wanted to help in any situation.

And if Lightning knew he was even considering getting into a real fight?

Luna help him.

Another explosion, this one sending snow and dirt flying in his face. He sputtered and shook off the material, refocusing his attention on the battle. As he did, the stranger’s attacks came to a stop. Smoke rose from the blackened tip of her horn, which she rubbed with a visible wince.

Rainbow’s laughter rained from the treetops. “I knew it, you can’t use magic forever. I’ve got ya now!”

Gulfstream looked up to see Rainbow dropping almost to the ground, approaching the defenseless unicorn with incredible speed. The snow flew up behind her like water in a boat’s wake, and even from this distance he could see the victorious grin.

He looked to the unicorn, who watched the attack come with wide eyes. Her legs locked and her ears folded back, bracing for the hit. Gulfstream couldn’t help but smile.

Then, just before Rainbow struck, things changed. The unicorn’s fear faded to a knowing smile. Her legs loosened up. Her horn flashed, and when it did the snow just before her jumped up.

“Whoa!” Rainbow had no time to dodge, flying right into it.

At the same moment, the unicorn disappeared in a flash of light, only to similarly reappear a few paces back. She spun in a circle, and Gulfstream watched in open-mouthed awe as a magical apparition resembling an absurdly large hammer appeared, swinging around to the movements of her head.

Rainbow burst through the snow, course unchanged, and flew right past her foe. She didn’t even see the magical weapon until it smashed into her side. Her course shifted erratically, she shouted… then her hind legs slammed into a tree with a pronounced whack. Her body spun wildly before she plowed into the ground, bouncing and rolling down the hill. Gulfstream winced with every impact.

The unicorn disappeared in another flash, this time reappearing at the bottom of the hill. Gulfstream hurried to follow, trying his best to stick to the trees.

“You’re so predictable,” the stranger declared, watching Rainbow from a safe distance.

Rainbow clutched at her leg, the one that first struck the tree, and hissed. Blood poured from a large gash above the knee, staining the snow. She tried standing, fell, then tried flying. Her wings got her off the ground, but there was no strength to them; she could barely hover, and the effort had her gritting her teeth. Even so, there was a fire in her eyes that suggested she wasn’t finished quite yet.

Gulfstream had never been so engrossed.

“You’re not going to beat me.” Rainbow shook a hoof at the stranger, lips curled back in a snarl. “You don’t have the right. You gave her up!”

The unicorn stiffened, her expression pained. “I didn’t. I never wanted to. It’s not like I was given a choice.”

“Of course you had a choice! You could have fought for her, but you didn’t.” Rainbow pointed at the pony, steam rising from her nostrils. “And now you have the nerve to come here and tell me that I can’t have Luna? She’s not your bucking property!”

The unicorn stomped, kicking up snow. “You have no idea what’s at stake here, Miss Dash!”

“Don’t give me that crap!” Rainbow flew at her foe, still able to move surprisingly fast considering the pain she was likely in.

Another flash of the horn, and Rainbow’s tail became engulfed in a violet glow that stopped her completely. She flapped her wings even harder, shouting in frustration and reaching with hooves that couldn’t quite touch the unicorn. Her opponent proceeded to shove snow in Rainbow’s face before hitting her point-blank with a concussive magical blast that sent her and the snow flying.

Gulfstream watched, mouth agape, as Rainbow rolled to a stop over a dozen feet away. She stayed down for some time, mane blowing in the wind. At last, she tried to stand. She couldn’t even lift her barrel from the ground, though her legs visibly shook from the effort.

The stranger approached Rainbow slowly. Her head was bowed, a frown adoring her lips.

“No.” Rainbow shook her head and beat at the snow. “You can’t win. She picked me. I won’t let you take her!”

“I never intended to, Miss Dash.”

Rainbow glared up at her, wings flapping feebly against the ground. “Then why? Why are you even here? You think just because you’re some high and mighty Gatekeeper you get to decide things?”

Gulfstream’s ears perked. Gatekeeper? A jolt of electricity seemed to run through him as he at last recognized the unicorn from the newspaper he’d read ages ago: Twilight Sparkle, protégé of Celestia, keeper of the Gates of Tartarus. Former marefriend of Princess Luna. He could only stare at Rainbow, comprehension finally dawning upon him.

Rainbow and Twilight were fighting over the princess.

Twilight stood over Rainbow, sadness etched across her features. She spoke so quietly, Gulfstream barely heard her. “I came here for your sake, Miss Dash. I’m here because I know that if I don’t make you cut ties now, you’re going to be in for a lot more pain than this.”

Rainbow all but screamed at the pony. “Like I’m supposed to believe that? She comes to me in my dreams, she encourages me, she makes everything better! She chose me to represent her! Luna cares, she won’t dump me like you did her. You’ll see, it doesn’t matter what happens here, she’ll still be there for me!”

Gulfstream bristled; she could say that? After what she did to Lightning?

Twilight sucked in a slow, tense breath. “You think I dumped her? It’s was a mutual thing, Miss Dash. If it didn’t happen, my life would be hell, and she’d be back on the moon.”

Though her legs wobbled, Rainbow managed to push herself into a sitting position. She glared at Twilight with a venom Gulfstream was certain he’d never seen in her before. “You didn’t have to do it. You broke up because you’re Celestia’s lapdog. A real marefriend fights for the pony she loves!”

Those words pierced Gulfstream’s brain like a hot knife, igniting the flame within him into an instant blaze. His body shook, his shoulders heaved. His wings snapped open, the gust sending snow flying from him.

The latter was enough; both mares’ ears perked. Their heads jerked towards him as Twilight snapped, “Who’s there?”

Gulfstream froze, anger still threatening to escape him. It was too late to duck back behind the tree. Rainbow’s eyes met his, and her face paled. “G-Gulfie?”

Twilight rounded on her. “You said you’d come here alone!”

“I did!” Rainbow raised her hooves defensively. “Gulfstream, what are you doing here?”

He probably should have thought his reaction out a bit more, but all Gulfstream could think about was the wrongness of what he’d just heard. So he stomped out from around the tree and marched straight to Rainbow, completely ignoring Twilight. He stood before her, glaring into those red eyes and feeling the fire consume him. Rainbow only stared back, her expression a mixture of confusion and worry.

Then, Gulfstream did something he’d always wanted to do; he jumped up, pulled his hoof back and slammed it into her muzzle. The force of the stinging blow proved strong enough to knock the already weakened mare onto her back.

“How dare you?!” He landed on top of her, muzzle pressed to hers as a growl rumbled out of his throat. “You dumped Lightning, made her feel like crap, left her a sobbing mess, and now you’re whining because another pony might do it to you? You don’t have the right to be offended by that!”

Rainbow’s pupils dilated, her hooves raised in a defensive posture once more. “G-Gulfstream, hold on, it’s not—”

“Lightning still loves you!”

Her jaw fell. If her eyes grew any wider they might have broken her sockets.

Gulfstream stomped on her chest, and she hissed at the impact. “I don’t know why, I don’t get it at all, but she still loves you. She’d do anything to get you back, even after what you did. And now you stand there and act like you’re a victim? You selfish, arrogant, bullheaded—”

“I think I’ve heard enough.”

Gulfstream squirmed as a violet aura surrounded and lifted him from Rainbow. He glared at Twilight as she pulled him away. “Let me go! She’s got it coming!” His mouth clamped closed, encased in a purple ring.

Twilight, her expression somber, turned to Rainbow. “Lightning. Celestia’s choice for the coming tournament, am I right?”

Rainbow held a hoof to her bleeding muzzle, but didn’t try to get up from the snow. She stared up at the ever-darkening sky with glassy eyes.

“Rainbow…” Twilight chewed her lip for a few extra seconds. “Listen, Luna’s amazing. I know she is, just like you do. But Nightmare Moon won’t let you be happy. She’s waiting for the perfect opportunity to crush your heart. I guarantee you, pursuing Luna will only cause you pain. I fought you today because I knew, by the rules set in place by Celestia, that if I won you’d lose her. It’s better this way. It’ll hurt less.”

The fallen pegasus closed her eyes, her face scrunching up in effort. She sat up gradually, wincing and whimpering, before finally giving Twilight a determined glare. “You’re wrong. Luna will come through. She's better than me.”

“Against Nightmare Moon?” Twilight shook her head. “She’ll fold. And if she doesn’t, the Nightmare will take over and make it happen regardless. Celestia controls Nightmare Moon, and through her she controls Luna.”

Rainbow hunched forward, anger and hurt plain on her face. She looked to Gulfstream as though she were trying to refute Twilight’s words. He would give anything right then to hit her again, but Twilight’s magic held him firmly.

Twilight took note of his squirming and sighed. “I did what I came to do and said what I had to say. If you want to continue down this path, I can’t stop you short of killing you, which I’m not prepared to do.” She turned back to Rainbow with a deep frown and sorrow in her gaze. “Rainbow, please, just think about what I’ve said. And even if you do keep going, try to understand that I did this for your sake.”

Her attention turned back to Gulfstream, who glared daggers back at her. “She’s already hurt enough. Please, I don’t know what you have against Rainbow, but she’s going to need help getting back to Cloudsdale. Will you help her?”

The magical band around Gulfstream’s mouth faded, and he almost shouted no, but he bit his tongue. Though the anger still burned hot in his mind, he’d had a little time to calm down. She was right, Rainbow had been hit hard, and not just by him. He could do more, but… it would serve no purpose, would it? And he needed to get back to Lightning and spend some time think on everything he’d just seen.

Apparently taking his silence for acceptance, Twilight carefully lowered him to the ground and released. He nearly fell to his knees from the unexpected control he now had, but managed to stay standing. He kicked snow in Rainbow’s direction and turned away from her.

Twilight’s voice was soft. “Goodbye, Miss Dash. I pray you make the right decision.”

Rainbow huffed. “Go to Tartarus.”

Quiet lingered among the trees. A bitter wind picked up, whipping the snow into small flurries and chilling Gulfstream. Eventually there came a flash of light in the corner of his eye. When he turned to investigate, Twilight was gone, only her hoofprints signifying she’d ever been there. Half hoping Rainbow would be gone too, he turned and cursed under his breath at the sight of her. The mare had her back turned to where Twilight had been, her forehooves crossed and a scowl on her lips.

He considered leaving her there. It wouldn’t be hard; just open his wings and fly back to Cloudsdale. Yet, as another chill breeze blew across the snow-covered hills, he looked to see that the sun was already half obscured by the horizon. Flying back home was going to be an unpleasant experience, and he was at full strength. Rainbow…

With a growl, he marched towards the pony and poked her shoulder. “You coming or what?”

Rainbow winced, as if even that small hit hurt. She turned to him, appearing about as pleased to see him as he felt in return. “You’re still here?”

He snorted and thrust his head away from her. “I don’t wanna be, but I can’t leave you here to become a popsicle. Lightning would be pissed.”

“Do you do everything based upon what Lightning would think?”

He returned her glare. “Yeah, I do. Everything I have, I have because of my cousin. I owe it to her to be the best pony I can be in her eyes.”

Rainbow’s frown softened, but didn’t leave. Her gaze fell to the snow at her hooves. “You’re right. Lightning, does she… really still care?”

His brow furrowed. Though his body shook with the effort, he calmed himself before replying. “You’re a bucked up, selfish jerk of a featherbrain… but yes, somehow she still cares.”

Tension filled Rainbow’s form, her eyes shifting as she thought. Her expression drifted from anger to concern to hesitancy, but finally settled on firmness. Standing on stiff legs, she turned that stern gaze upon him. “I need to talk to her.”

“No way.” He shook his head and made a denying gesture with his forehooves. “Not a chance am I letting you anywhere near Lightning.”

Rainbow cringed, but her manner didn’t change. “Look, I know you hate me. I have it coming. But I have to talk to her, the sooner the better. Either you help me get to her now, or I do it later. I’m talking to her, Gulfstream.”

Sucking down a slow breath proved vital to keep him from hitting her again. He closed his eyes and turned his face, letting the steadily growing winds shove an icy chill across his muzzle. Maybe it would be enough to douse the flame. He doubted it, but it was worth a try. It also bought him time to think on Rainbow’s words.

What was he going to do, skip school and hover around Lightning and hope she didn’t notice?

He spoke through gritted teeth. “Fine, we’ll do it your way. But if you hurt her again…”

“I know.”

He opened his eyes. Rainbow was staring at him, and though her expression remained firm he noted something else in her eyes.

He thought it might have been resignation.









Night had long fallen by the time they approached the cloud house. Gulfstream had one of Rainbow’s forelegs over his shoulder, and though she was able to keep herself aloft it had been up to him to get them this high. Rainbow spent the entire flight wincing and grumbling under her breath, but even through the blizzard that had formed she never lost her determination.

Now they were above the buffeting winds and snow. Here the air was calm. The light over the front door of his home was on and Lightning could be seen standing at the edge of their private cloud. Her head turned in slow arcs and her hooves did a small dance. The sight filled him with regret; he should have known better than to worry her. He did know better, and that made it worse.

His wings ached from carrying Rainbow’s weight, but he tried to put on a brave front. Lightning’s head turned their way as they made their wobbling approached, her eyebrows shooting up when she caught sight of them. Gulfstream felt a small spark of frustration upon realizing that her worry wasn’t just for his sake.

“Gulfie, Rainbow!” Lightning launched and met them a few yards out. “What they hay? What happened to you guys? Gulfie, I’ve been worried sick!”

He flinched, eyes dropping to the darkness below. “Sorry, Lightning. I just… uh…”

“I was my fault, LD.”

He turned to Rainbow with ears perked; this was entirely unexpected.

Lightning took Rainbow’s other leg and pulled them towards the front door. “By Celestia, you guys are freezing! Come on, get inside.”

“I don’t think that’s a good—”

“Shut it, RD.” Lightning landed with them before the door and kicked it open. “You’re not going anywhere until you’ve warmed up. Gulfie, think you can get some spare blankets?”

He bristled; so Rainbow was too cold to do anything on her own, but he was just fine? Granted, Rainbow did look as though she’d just been tossed around by a manticore, but still… He did his best not to stomp his way to the storage closet, but one or two may have come out. When he came trotting back, Lightning had forced Rainbow to lay on the couch.

“Thanks, Gulfie.” Lightning patted his head and took one of the blankets. She draped it over Rainbow, who muttered a quiet thanks. “You two stay here and try to get warm. I’ll be right back.”

With Lightning in the kitchen, Gulfstream jumped into one of the two cloud chairs and pulled the blanket around himself so only the tip of his muzzle poked out. He didn’t want to look at Rainbow, much less think about what her being here would do to Lightning. He just wanted to curl up with his cousin and enjoy her warmth. Goddess, but that sounded good right about now.

He heard Lightning come back after a short period of silence. “Here ya go, Gulfie.”

He pulled the blanket from around his eyes and found her holding a steaming mug of hot chocolate before him. Despite everything, he grinned and took it. “Thanks, LD.”

“You deserve it.” She ruffled his mane, then turned to Rainbow. It was then he noticed two more mugs sitting on a tray on Lightning’s back. His pleasure faded a bit as she offered one of the mugs to Rainbow, who accepted it with great hesitancy.

Still, as he took a sip of the sugary beverage and felt his bones thawing, he couldn’t begrudge Lightning too much.

She sat in the seat opposite him, her own cup in her hooves, but didn’t drink. She looked between the two of them with a concerned frown. “Okay, now will you guys please tell me why my cousin just dragged my ex home on a night like this, and my ex looks like she just got thrown around by a manticore?”

Gulfstream couldn’t help but chuckle at her familiar choice of words. He said nothing, figuring Rainbow would have a better story to tell. He didn’t know all the facts, after all.

Rainbow stared into her hot cocoa, lips curled in a dark frown. “I… was in a fight. I didn’t win. Gulfstream saw me from a distance and helped me out.”

“Well, that was good of him to do.” Lightning practically glowed when she turned her smile to him, and he could feel his heart rising in his chest.

But the smile faded as she turned back to Rainbow. “Why were you fighting?”

She was met with silence, Rainbow fidgeting beneath her blanket. She took a long drink of her cocoa. Gulfstream watched her from over his mug, peering as he wondered how she might answer. He had an idea, but he would say nothing until he knew more.

Besides, he had the feeling this was meant to be between them.

Though she continued to stare into her cocoa, Rainbow finally spoke. “Lightning, I need you to understand something. It’s very, very important that you do. You… You’ll listen to me, won’t you?”

Gulfstream bristled at her words. “She shouldn’t.”

Lightning silenced him with a harsh look, then turned back to Rainbow with a soft smile. “Of course I will.”

Rainbow tensed and closed her eyes. She tried to speak, failed, paused to think. “D-despite everything I said before… I want you to know that I still care for you.”

Gulfstream saw the way Lightning’s eye lit up. Those eyes – aimed at Rainbow Dash – ignited the flame into an inferno.

He stood and threw his mug with all the force he could muster. It passed not even an inch from Rainbow’s head and over the couch, shattering against the wall and splashing chocolate everywhere.

“You liar!” He leapt into the air and hovered over her, entire body trembling and vision going red. “You bucked up shit! You never cared about her! I’m gonna—”

“Gulfstream!”

“No!” He landed on the arm of the couch and pressed his muzzle against Rainbow’s, taking in her startled eyes. “I’m not going to stand here and listen to her hurt you again! You hear me, Rainbow? I won’t stand for it!”

Something yanked on his mane, hard. He fell backwards and was caught in Lightning’s forehooves. He squirmed and shouted, but she shoved him to the floor and glared into his eyes. It was enough to shut him down completely; he’d never seen such ferocity in his cousin’s gaze. The fire winked out, leaving him with a cold sensation.

“The only reason I’m not tanning your hide and sending you to your room is because you were good enough to bring Rainbow here in the first place. You are going to clean that mess up, then you are going to sit down, and if I hear so much as a peep from you I’m gonna show you just how red that flank of yours can get, do I make myself clear?”

He swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded, tears welling in his eyes. Lightning had never threatened him like that before.

She pulled back and returned to her chair, her menacing eyes not once leaving his. Gradually, his ears tucked and his tail between his legs, Gulfstream stood and trudged for the kitchen to get a broom. He’d never felt so… defeated. There wasn’t even an urge to be angry anymore.

He just wanted this night to be over.

“Sorry about that, RD.”

“It’s… okay. He’s not entirely wrong, y’know? I hurt you. I know that.”

He returned to the room, the small broom in his teeth and a dustpan on his back. He didn’t look at either of the mares as he began cleaning up the shattered mug.

“But… did you mean it? About still caring?”

He perked an ear, tensing.

“Y-yeah… I meant it. We had good times. I wish we could go back to that.”

There was that spark again, but it was subdued. Gulfstream was too depressed to conjure anything more significant. Even so, he listened intently to the conversation; if Rainbow slipped her real intentions, he wanted to know it.

Lightning’s voice was so quiet he almost didn’t hear it. “We could. If you really wanted to.”

He paused, dustpan between his teeth, and glanced to the couch. He couldn’t see Rainbow at all from this angle, but Lightning? The sheer hope in her expression was like a knife to his heart. He waited with bated breath, heart pounding. He silently begged Rainbow to say no…

“I’m sorry, LD, but that ship has sailed.”

He gave a silent cheer, happy to ignore the miserable tone of Rainbow’s voice.

“But… why?”

Gulfstream focused on brushing up the last pieces of the mug, if only to not see the hurt expression his cousin wore. He set the dust pan aside and walked back to the kitchen. He moved slowly, not wanting to miss one word, but Rainbow had said nothing by the time he entered the room. He hurried to grab a couple towels and return to the living room.

“There’s somepony else.”

The words left Rainbow’s lips just when he entered the room. He paused, eyes shifting to Lightning. The pain on her face might as well have been his own.

“Oh, I see.” Lightning bowed her head and rubbed her hooves together in a sheepish display. “I… that’s…”

“I know,” Rainbow whispered. “She’s important to me, LD. But you are too. That’s why I asked Gulfstream to bring me here. I had to warn you.”

Gulfstream’s ears perked, but he continued on to the wall. With a gentle flap of his wings, he hovered high enough to begin cleaning it with one of the towels. He kept his head cocked just enough to have one ear pointed in the mares’ direction.

Lightning’s despair was only partially hidden by her surprise. “Warn me about what?”

He had finished with the wall and was cleaning the floor when Rainbow finally spoke up. “I know Celestia picked you to represent her in the Wonderbolts tournament.”

“Y-yeah, she did.” Somehow, Lightning still managed to get a little pride in her voice. “I’ve seen her a few times since she picked me. She’s got high hopes.” A moment of silence. “RD?”

The floor was done. Gulfstream set the towels atop the dust pan and lifted it—

“Luna chose me.”

The dustpan hit the floor, its contents spilling out. Gulfstream stared at the back of the couch, eyes wide. Lightning’s expression matched his own.

Rainbow’s chuckle was a frail thing. “Yeah, I know. Who saw that coming?”

Gulfstream’s jaw almost touched the floor. Now he knew exactly what Rainbow was trying to do. He could almost respect her for it. But if Lightning reacted poorly… He turned his eyes to his cousin and felt his heart sink as she began to smile.

“That’s… that’s great news, Rainbow!”

With a groan, Gulfstream covered his eyes beneath his fetlocks.

Rainbow’s voice suggested she felt much the same way. “Didn’t you hear me? I’m representing Luna in the contest. We’re going to be enemies again!”

Lightning tut-tuted. “Competitors, Dash. Competitors. Big difference.”

“No, it’s not!” Rainbow sat up, her head rising over the back of the couch and allowing Gulfstream to see her frustration. At least they shared something in common. “Lightning, don’t you realize what this means?”

“You bet I do!” Lightning was all smiles. “It means you get another chance. It means you might be able to do great things again. Rainbow, this is your ticket back into the spotlight!”

Rainbow threw her head back and slapped a leg over her face not unlike Gulfstream had done a moment ago. “You just don’t get it. There’s only one grand prize! Only one pony gets to join the Wonderbolts. If I win, you don’t get in!”

“I’m going to get in at some point regardless.” Lightning shrugged, still bearing that insufferable smile. “My future’s set, RD.”

She glanced at Gulfstream and raised an eyebrow. It took him a moment to gather her intent, and he grudgingly re-cleaned his mess and started for the kitchen once more. Thoughts swirled through his head, but he tried to listen as Rainbow spoke up again.

“Lightning, I will do anything to win this for Luna. I mean it, anything.”

With a smug expression hidden by her mug, Lightning asked, “Would you kill?”

“Yes.”

Gulfstream tensed, eyes wide as he listened to his cousin choke on her cocoa. He was rooted to the spot, now taking in every word.

“Rainbow! That’s not something to joke about.”

“I’m not joking, LD.” By her tone, Gulfstream believed it. “Luna means everything to me now. Yes, even more than you. I’ve heard the kind of things we’ll have to do in the tournament. Nothing’s supposed to be lethal, but… possibilities are there.”

Gulfstream turned to look out the kitchen door. Rainbow’s gaze was as hard as stone, her eyes alight with a fire he’d never seen in her before. He didn’t dare say anything – not a peep – but at that moment he really hoped Lightning would listen to reason.

“Rainbow,” she whispered, “nopony’s going to die. Celestia wouldn’t condone that.”

“Don’t be so sure,” Rainbow replied. “That’s why I’m here, Lightning. You can’t compete. You’ve got to drop out. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Now Lightning sounded incredulous. “Come on, do you really expect me to believe that you’re going to hurt me?”

“Not if I can help it.” Rainbow heaved a tired sigh and rubbed a hoof across her face. “But others might not be so nice. Lightning, this is going to be a cut-throat contest. It’s not just stunts and speed, there are jousting matches and duels! There’s going to be some desperate, determined ponies out there, ponies who won’t hesitate to do something permanent if it means they get to advance.”

Lightning scoffed. “And how would you know what the contest is going to include? They haven’t publicized that yet.”

Rainbow stomped, the sound muffled by the couch. “How do you think? I’m with Princess Luna!”

“Wait…” Lightning leaned forward. “You mean, when you said you were seeing somepony else, you meant her? Rainbow, she’s… she’s Nightmare Moon! She’s evil!”

“No, she’s not!” Another stomp from Rainbow. “She’s just lonely and misunderstood. Luna supports me, she encourages me to be the best I can be!”

“Supports…” Lightning’s voice petered out, and Gulfstream couldn’t help slipping behind the wall. His ears folded as he braced for what he knew was about to come.

It came in a shout so loud it made him jump. “Supports you?! What the buck do you mean by that? Didn’t I support you? Didn’t I do everything I could to feed your ego, to make you feel better about yourself, to be your friend? What about that, huh, Rainbow? What about that?”

“Lightning, I—”

“Or maybe it’s because everything I did for you was designed to make me look better. That’s what you think, isn’t it? That my love for you was all one big, bucking sham! Because Lightning’s too good for whiny, self-obsessed Rainbow Dash, is that it?!”

“If you would just let me—”

“So instead you dump me for Nightmare Moon, a pony whose very name is next to the word deceit in the dictionary! What makes her better than me, huh? How is her supporting you any different in your twisted, screwed up head? She’s a traitor! A verified, Celestia-be-damned traitor, and you’re picking that ancient hag over me? What the buck is wrong with you?”

Gulfstream was flat on his barrel, head covered in his trembling hooves. He wanted to tell Lightning that it would be okay, to comfort her and calm her down, but he didn’t dare enter that room. Not a peep. “N-not a peep…”

Rainbow spoke up, her tone calm but pained. “I’m sorry, Lightning. I bucked up, and I know it. One more reason you deserve better.”

Lightning’s words cracked like whips. “Is that all you have to say, ‘you deserve better?’ Spare me your bucking self pity.”

This time Rainbow’s words had a bite of their own. “I don’t expect you to forgive me, LD. I didn’t come here for it. But I do expect you to believe me when I say I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“It’s a little late for that, don’t you think?”

“Maybe emotionally. But I’m telling you, Lightning: don’t enter the tournament.”

Lightning’s snarl made Gulfstream whimper. “Why? Because you don’t want the champ getting in your way? Is that the only reason you came here?”

“I’m trying to protect you!”

“You’re doing a lousy job of it.”

“Only because you won’t listen, you featherbrain! What about Gulfstream, huh? I bet even that little psychopath knows you shouldn’t do this.”

The air left Gulfstream. He clutched at his chest, his eyes bulged. Psychopath. Was he a psychopath? He could have sworn his heart had just been encased in ice.

Lightning’s voice became very quiet. “W-what did you just say?”

Rainbow’s reply was uncertain. “Uh… that Gulfstream knows you shouldn’t do this?”

“What did you call my cousin?”

Silence filled the air. Gulfstream fought to breathe.

“Get out of my house.”

“Wha… What did I—”

Lightning’s shout shook the clouds and jolted the air back into Gulfstream’s lungs. “Get out! Get the buck out of my house!”

“Lightning, I’m sorry!”

“Out, out, out!”

Something shattered. Gulfstream didn’t dare move, his head buried beneath his legs once more. He could hear their hoofsteps, the snarls and growls and grunts. Rainbow’s pleas were cut off by the slamming of the front door, which reverberated as somepony banged on it over and over again. She continued to shout through the wood.

Still he didn’t move.

He lay there, tears threatening to escape his eyes. The banging echoed through the house for what seemed like hours, crushing his skull with its harsh presence. Every single hit brought the word back to him: psychopath, psychopath, psychopath.

“I’m n-not a bad pony,” he whispered. “I’m not. I’m g-good. Not bad. Good.”

After a while he realized that the banging had stopped. Sniffing and rubbing his eyes, he looked up to a quiet kitchen. Too quiet; there wasn’t a sound to grace his ears. The silence pressed upon him. The air was still. The world was still. The windows, the furniture, the pots hanging on the wall... nothing moved. He had the disturbing impression that the world was dead.

He wanted to move, but should he? If he saw Lightning now, what would she say? Would she even look at him in the same way? Maybe she’d thought on Rainbow’s words and saw truth in them. Perhaps the reason the world felt so dead was because she’d abandoned him, leaving him alone in his wickedness.

The thought was unbearable. It spurred him to stand up on shaky legs and go out in search of his cousin. Even if she believed Rainbow’s words, he had to see her. He started with her room. Not there. He tried the study. Nothing.

Fear welling within him, he made his way back to the living room… and there she was. She sat with her back to the front door, curled up in a ball with her head pressed against the knees of her hind legs. It didn’t look like a very comfortable position. Lightning’s mane had fallen over her knees, making it impossible to see her face, but he could hear her sniffling. Another shattered mug lay on the floor not far from the door.

He approached slowly, tail tucked and heart heavy. He stood just inches from her, trying to think of something to say. All he managed was a weak, “Lightning?”

Her head slowly rose, revealing bloodshot eyes and moistened cheeks. She gazed at him as if unaware of who he was. Then, she released a ragged breath, her gaze becoming focused and fearful.

“G-Gulfie. I… you…” She paused to rub her eyes, then sat up properly and reached a shaking hoof towards him. It stopped halfway to his face. “I’m so s-sorry, Gulfie. I shouldn’t have lashed out at you like th-that. You… you’re not mad at me… are you?”

He took her hoof in his own and pressed it to his cheek. He offered a weak smile. “Never. Not at you.”

Her lips curled into a trembling smile, fresh tears dripping down her cheeks. She pulled him into a tight hug, her chin on his shoulder. “You’re a g-good colt, you know that?”

“I hope so, Lightning,” he whispered in her ear. “I really do.”

“You are.” Somehow, even through her sniffling, she managed to add some firmness to her voice. She squeezed a little tighter. “Don’t let what that… that featherbrain said get to you. You’re a good colt, and don’t ever forget it. I’ve been so, so proud of you these past few months.”

He pressed his cheek to her chest and smiled through his tears. “Th-thanks, Lightning. I mean it. Thank you.”

They remained like that for a little while, but Gulfstream couldn’t help thinking about all that Rainbow had said. Worry began to eat away at him as he thought about all he knew… and all he suspected.

His voice was so quiet, even he almost didn’t hear it. “L-Lightning?”

“Mm-hmm?”

He took a deep breath. Another.

“I… don’t think you should compete.”

He felt her pause. Slowly, she leaned back to look at him with a concerned frown. “Gulfie… You don’t really think Rainbow would hurt me to win, do you?”

Not looking her in the eye, he shrugged. “I don’t know. She’s desperate, and… and I think she meant what she said. About trying to protect you, I mean.”

Another long, unbearable silence.

“Gulfstream, I can’t just quit.” Upon seeing him flinch, she asked, “Does it really scare you that much?”

He nodded, pressing his cheek to her chest once more. “She’s not the only one in the tournament. What if she’s right? What if some other pony…” He sucked down a sob. “I don’t want to lose you too. I’d be nothing without you.”

She sighed and squeezed him again. “You’re a lot stronger than you think, kiddo. But I promise, you won’t lose me anytime soon.”

When he glanced at her face, however, he saw the solemnity in her eyes. “But you still plan on competing?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted, staring into the distance. “I… I need to talk to Celestia about it.”

“Can you do that? Just go talk to her?”

Lightning hesitated, but her voice remained firm. “She chose me to be her representative. I think, if I went to Canterlot to ask, she’d see me.” Her smile came back. She relaxed and gave him a peck on the forehead. “Don’t worry, Gulfie. I’m gonna be careful. If I think the risk is too much, I’ll back off.”

His lips curled up into a smile. “Promise?”

There was no hesitation in her response. “I promise.”
> Book III – Gulfstream: Sunstroke
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------




I should have said something. I should have told her what was happening. I didn’t. I was stupid. I was a coward.

Celestia once asked me a question. I know now I gave the wrong answer. It was my fault for being so bucking pathetic. The only pony who supported me couldn’t do anything to help.

I miss Summer. Sometimes I wish I could go see her again. She probably wouldn’t want to talk to me. Can’t blame her.

Why do I have to think about this? Why are they making me write it? It’s not like anyone who ever reads this will care about my past. I’m just a little freak, after all. Rainbow wasn’t all that off about me.

I don’t want to think about this anymore. I’m gonna ask Uncle Fine if I can stop. I know I didn’t get the ending down, but

—Gulfstream Dust, Book of Shadows XLVIII,
June 4, 1007












January 22, C.Y. 1005
Cloudsdale


Gulfstream chewed absentmindedly on a pencil, his cheeks resting in his hooves. Though his eyes were set upon the blank parchment in front of him, his mind was far away. Rainbow’s words from a few days ago echoed incessantly in his mind, refusing to let him think of anything else. His eyes shifted to the window; late afternoon. How much longer would he have to wait?

“Gulfie?” Summer Showers sat opposite the living room table, two-and-a-half pages of writing set aside. “Haven’t you started?”

He sighed and shook his head. “Sorry. I just… can’t think.”

A hoof rested on his shoulder. He looked up to see a lone eye staring at him, the other aimed somewhere in the general direction of Summer. “Is something on your mind?”

With a sigh, he turned from Derpy to stare at the window. “I just wish Lightning would come home.”

“Why are you so worried?” Summer asked. “I mean, the weather’s fine and she’s the best flier in Cloudsdale. Maybe in Equestria.”

He swallowed the lump in his throat and kept his mouth shut. He wished he could tell them what was on his mind. “I just… have a feeling something bad’s going to happen.”

“Like what?” Summer asked.

Like Lightning will still be in the tournament. “I dunno.”

Derpy tapped the paper in front of him. “You really will have something to worry about if you don’t finish this essay for tomorrow.”

He scowled and shoved her hoof aside.

“Come on, Gulfie, this one’s easy.” Summer gave him a smile that made him feel funny. “Just write a bunch of stuff about Celestia being an awesome military leader and Sombra being a dunce. Miss Dazed will eat it up and give you a perfect score, even if you get some of it wrong.”

Derpy frowned. “That doesn’t sound like a proper grading method to me.”

“You haven’t had Miss Sun Dazed for a teacher,” Summer countered with haughty confidence.

“No, but she sounds a lot like my history teacher back in school, Mr. Gaze.” Derpy rolled her eyes, a sight that was almost enough to make Gulfstream feel dizzy. “History teachers never change.”

Gulfstream stared out the window once more, ignoring the ongoing conversation in favor of thinking about Lightning. He’d expected her home an hour ago. What if she still wanted to be in the tournament? What if Rainbow tried to stop her somehow? She could have been met on the way back. Would Rainbow take such a desperate step? He had no idea.

Rainbow wasn’t the only threat. Lightning’s selection as Celestia’s representative was public news now. What if those other ponies Rainbow mentioned had tried something? Gulfstream knew Rainbow wouldn’t seriously hurt Lightning – at least not physically – but he couldn’t say the same for others.

Perhaps they’d interfered. Maybe along the way to Canterlot? Goddess, Lightning might be hurt and abandoned in some desolate spot on the way. She could have been there for days!

“Hey, Gulfstream!”

He jumped with a shout, his hoof lashing out to barely miss Derpy’s face. The instant he realized what he’d almost done, he dropped back into the chair and sunk low. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to, honest!”

“It’s okay.” Derpy raised her hooves in a placating motion. “It’s my fault for startling you. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I…” He chewed his lip, then turned to look at the window. He caught Summer watching him. A sick feeling rose in his stomach. His shoulders shook, and he realized that he was just barely keeping it in. “I j-just—”

The front door opened with a bang. “The star of the show has arrived!”

The world flew by in a blur as Gulfstream tore through the air, out the door, through the living room and plowed right into Lightning, who was ready and waiting for him. Rather than try to stop the impact, Lightning took it in full, flying out the door to crash into the clouds.

“Hey, kiddo,” she wheezed, laying in a heap on her side. “You’ve gotta find a better… better way to greet me.”

He just buried his head in her chest, a sense of contentment and relief washing over him.

“Hey, Lightning,” Derpy called from the door. “Welcome back to the city of clean air and airless heads.”

Lightning chuckled. “Don’t go thinking you’re the perfect example of a Cloudsdale native, Derpy.”

“Good afternoon, Miss Dust.”

A gasp escaped Lightning, and Gulfstream had a strange sensation that his world was about to get a little warmer.

“Is that Summer Showers? Gulfie, are you inviting girls home now?”

He was in the air in an instant, but his escape was hampered by his tail caught beneath one of Lightning’s quick hooves. He saw the wicked glint in his cousin’s eye and knew he was doomed. “I-it’s not what it looks like! She’s helping me with my homework, that’s it!”

“Oh, really?” Lightning’s wolfish grin turned to Summer. “And what exactly does it look like, huh?”

“I-I don’t know!” He really didn’t. “But whatever it does look like, it’s not that!”

Derpy whistled and lightly bumped the grinning Summer with her elbow. “Somepony’s caught.”

Summer maintained her smile, but her brow furrowed as she looked between Derpy and Gulfstream. “Caught doing what?”

The response had Lightning howling with laughter. Or maybe it was the way Gulfstream was trying to hide his blushing face behind both hooves and wings, leading to him falling unceremoniously to the clouds.

Derpy was in a fit of giggles, but she had the presence of mind to bend down and whisper to Summer, “You’ll figure that out later. Promise.”

“Uh… okay?”

Gulfstream was little more than a ball of embarrassment half buried in clouds by this point. If he’d had his way, he’d have melted and descended upon the earth as rain, ending life as a messy puddle. Preferable underneath a very broad and heavy rock where nopony would find him.

Lightning, still huffing from laughter she didn’t quite have control over, lay on her barrel and nuzzled the back of his neck. “O-okay, Gulfie. I’m sorry. I won’t tease you anymore about your new marefriend… for now.”

“M-m-m-mare…” He ground his teeth together and refused to indulge her with a response. Or his tongue failed to cooperate. Either excuse was legitimate.

“Oh, look,” Derpy said just a little too loudly. “Now she’s blushing too.”

Gulfstream dared to glance between his pinions. Sure enough, Summer’s face was decorated with pink, her eyes on her shifting hooves. Her lips trembled as if she didn’t know whether to smile or frown. He just covered his face back up and prayed this whole topic would be forgotten soon.

“What’s with the knife?”

It took a moment for the words to register in his mind, and even longer for Gulfstream to risk exposing his burning cheeks to take a look. Lightning had stood up to display her left foreleg, on which was wrapped a tight brown band. The band held a white scabbard with golden engravings that sparkled in the sunlight. The humiliation faded from his mind as he gazed at the dazzling item and the handle of a knife emblazoned with golden fire. The grip was curved to fit in a pony’s mouth and the triangular pommel held within it a familiar sigil: the cutie mark of Princess Celestia.

“Whoa…”

Lightning caught his gaze and smiled. “Celestia gave it to me. A good luck charm.”

The implications of her words gradually seeped in, and his wonder faded for a dull sorrow. He looked upon her beaming face. “You’re still entering the tournament.”

“I sure as hay am! And I’m going to win.”










January 25, C.Y. 1005
Cloudsdale


Gulfstream could hear the grunting from down the hall. He balanced a plate of noodles on his back and approached the door to Lightning’s room. Worry filled him as he stopped at the threshold to listen to Lightning’s rapid, rhythmic breathing. Sucking in a sharp breath, he threw on a smile and stepped into the doorway.

His cousin was performing wing-ups on the floor, sweat glistening all over her body. She kept her body perfectly straight, forehooves held behind her back, and pushed herself up and down with a speed that would impress any athlete. There was no waver or wobble, no shaking in her wings. Gulfstream would usually admire her at times like this.

But tonight Gulfstream felt apprehension at the sight. He walked into the room and set the plate down before turning to her. “Are you going to train all day every day?”

She didn’t look at him as she responded through her rapid breaths. “The… tournament… is… a week… away. Gotta… make sure…. I’m ready.”

He cast a glance at the knife still strapped to her leg. “You were always ready, LD. You couldn’t possibly be more ready.”

“You… never know. A little… extra work… never hurt… anypony.”

“A little? This is your fifth set today, not to mention the jogging, the chin-ups, laps…” He nudged the plate a little closer to her with his muzzle. “Come on, take a break. Eat.”

She did a few more wing-ups, huffing with each one, before muttering, “Five hundred.” With those words she sat up, wiped the sweat from her brow, and pulled the plate closer. “Thanks, Gulfie. I’ve really worked up an appetite.” She must have seen something in his expression, for her smile faded. “What’s wrong?”

He looked down and rubbed his leg. Her wing came forward to rub behind one of his ears, prompting a small smile that didn’t last.

“Come on, Gulfie. Talk to me.”

He held out for a few more seconds. When he next looked up, he didn’t bother to conceal his concern. “Ever since you went to Canterlot, you’ve been obsessed with winning the tournament.”

“So?” she asked between mouthfuls of noodles.

“So… that’s not like you.” He rubbed the back of his head and averted his gaze. “You’ve always been about doing your best, about trying hard regardless of the result. You could make tenth place, and you wouldn’t care because you gave it your all and had fun. Suddenly, it’s all ‘win, win, win.’ ”

She shrugged, slurping down a few more noodles. “I just got a little ambitious.”

He gawked at her sweating face. “A little? It’s the only thing you ever talk about anymore.” He took a cautious step forward. “Lightning, what did Celestia say that got you so worked up?”

The eating ceased. Lightning stared at him as if she didn’t recognize him. Her eyes shifted to the knife strapped to her leg and a smile formed on her lips. “She told me… that she believed in me.”

He waited for her to continue. She didn’t. “Wait, that’s it?”

“Isn’t that enough?” Lightning set the bowl down and began gently rubbing the scabbard. “I have to honor the princess’s wishes. She wants me to win, and I don’t intend to disappoint her. Don’t you see, Gulfie? Celestia – Goddess of the Sun, the great giver of all that is good, our beloved shepherd – has chosen me. I’ve been blessed, and I have to pull through.”

Gulfstream’s ears fell flat against his skull as he took in her words. Something about them sounded wrong, and the way she stared at the knife made him uncomfortable. She wasn’t telling him everything. She couldn’t be.

But what was he supposed to do? Tell her he didn’t believe in her, that he thought she might die? It wasn’t like that would do her any good. It wasn’t necessarily true, either; he honestly thought she had a good chance of winning. Even so, he couldn’t escape a sense of impending… wrongness.

He chewed his lip as she went back to eating, wolfing down the remaining meal as if she’d not eaten in days. There was another test he wanted to offer, but to try it would be to walk dangerous waters. What if she took it the wrong way?

“W-what about… Rainbow?”

Lightning finished the last of the noodles and pushed the bowl away with a content sigh. “What about her?”

What did she mean, ‘what about her?’ That familiar heat was in Gulfstream’s heart again, though he wasn’t sure of its source. “She’s in the contest too. If you two have to face one another—”

“She’ll lose.”

The casual nature of the claim filled him with alarm… and anger. But he held the fire in check with the practice of years. He was almost proud of how neutral he managed to make his tone. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

Lightning chuckled and patted his head. “I’m fine, Gulfie.” He got a good, solid look at Celestia’s cutie mark on the knife before she retracted her hoof. It seemed to taunt him, as if daring him to try and unlock some riddle. It took everything he had not to scowl at the thing.

“Good noodles, kid.” Lightning hopped to her hooves and began jogging in place, her wings stretched out to their full extent. “Heat me up another bowl, would ya? I’m going to need all the energy I can get.”

“Yeah… sure.” He turned away, the sound of her hoofbeats in his head. He’d do as she asked, but he wouldn’t like it. Deep down, Gulfstream had one disturbing thought:

That wasn’t the Lightning he knew.










January 28, C.Y. 1005
Cloudsdale


The cloud house was awash in darkness. Not a thing moved; no wind shook the windows, there was no shift in the walls, even the air had a stale quality to it. For the first time in his life, Gulfstream wished he lived in something other than a cloud house. They were such quiet things. He could vaguely recall the orphanage of Foal Mountains, how it shifted and creaked at night. Gulfstream would have given anything for a home that made noise.

A cloud house never spoke. It didn’t creak or groan, it didn’t shift due to age. It was still.

Still like death.

That’s what Gulfstream felt all around him. Doom seemed to hang in the air, a focused inevitability that weighed upon him like a blanket of ice. No quantity of bedsheets could push back that chill. He wasn’t sure he wanted them to, even though he hated how cold and still and quiet everything was.

He didn’t want to hide from the chill. He wanted to get rid of it.

He had been lying awake for hours, staring at the ceiling and thinking on his lingering doubts. A sense of urgency filled him, but he didn’t know what it was pushing him to do. The familiar fire churned in his stomach, making him ill, but it was a minor nuisance compared to the things he’d witnessed in the last few days. He thought of Lightning’s behavior over and over again. The more he did, the more convinced he was that she’d changed.

Why was he so scared?

When he was little – well, little-er – he’d go to sleep with Lightning when he got scared, allegedly under the claim of protecting her, of course. He’d feel like a foal going to her now. Besides, what comfort could she give when she was the source of his worry?

But the tournament was just days away. The thought left him with a hole in his heart. The very concept peppered his sense of impending doom. He needed to see Lightning. So what if he looked like a baby doing so?

Steeling himself, he climbed out of bed and left his room. Shadows loomed in the hall, but still not a sound met his presence. He moved quickly to Lightning’s door, doing his best not to think about how quiet the house was. The door opened without so much as a squeak, but he couldn’t pass the threshold. He stared into the dark of the room, breath clutched in his throat. It didn’t release until he saw the steady rise of Lightning’s chest over the bed.

The icy claw at his back retreated and the shadows didn’t seem so looming. He managed to contain his giddy giggle to a whisper, feeling dumb for worrying so much. He moved across the room, hoping to get a good look at Lightning’s face. She made some of the silliest expressions in her sleep.

He got halfway across the room when she shifted, turning towards him. Her left foreleg flopped over the side of the bed. To his dismay, the knife with its white and gold scabbard was still attached. The sight of it brought back that pit in his gut and the shadows came pressing down on him once more.

Now that he thought about it…

Gradually, one careful step at a time, Gulfstream approached the bed. His gaze remained locked on the knife. The closer he came, the less confident he felt. That blade… never had he seen it unsheathed. Never had Lightning removed it from her ankle. It remained there, all the time, ever reminding him that his sensible and kind cousin had become a new pony when she left for Canterlot.

He was by the bed now. Throat dry, he reached up to touch it. The moment he did, he felt something like a jolt of static electricity run down his leg—

“What are you doing?”

He jumped back with a yelp. Lightning stared at him, her gaze piercing and her teeth bared. There had been a viciousness in her voice he wasn’t sure he’d ever heard before, not even when she’d threatened him for attacking Rainbow. He could almost swear there was a golden spark in her irises…

It disappeared, if it had ever been there at all. Lightning flopped back onto the bed with a quiet sigh. The danger in her voice had gone just as quickly, replaced by drowsiness. “Oh, it’s just you. Hey, Gulfie. What are you doing up?”

He opened his mouth to answer. No words came out. He didn’t want Lightning to be angry again, but something was wrong.

“I just… wanted to…” He looked about frantically for inspiration. His eyes fell on the scabbard. “I just wanted to see your knife.”

She raised her leg to examine the weapon, a smile forming on her lips. “Been on your mind for a while, huh? All you had to do was ask.”

His ears perked. “Really?”

“Of course. Just be careful, okay?” She let her leg fall limp before him, the hilt inches from his muzzle.

She watched as he leaned forward. He recalled that little discharge from before. Did he really want to take it?

“It’s okay,” she whispered. “It’s just for decoration. Go ahead.”

Swallowing, he stepped closer and opened his mouth. The moment his teeth touched the hilt, he felt something cold flow into his body. He shivered, hesitated… then pulled the blade out. The sound of it rang through the night, shoving away the silence with a harsh clarity. The weapon felt unusually heavy for its length, which couldn’t have been more than six inches.

He sat back and took the hilt in his hooves, shaking as the chill continued to soak into his body. It felt as if there were a pressure radiating from the knife, shoving not against his body but his very soul. He thought about the time Twilight had captured him with her magic and knew it was very different… but he still suspected some kind of enchantment on the thing.

His eyes roamed up the double-edged blade. The center was thick, the two edges curving into an obtuse angle of a tip. Slowly, carefully, he reached up—

“Careful, Gulfie.”

He gave Lightning a reassuring look, then gradually, cautiously touched the edge of the blade. He pulled it away and looked to find a small cut in the wall of his toe. “Really sharp for a decoration.”

Lightning hesitated. “It’s… practical decoration?”

A lie. With a grimace, he gripped the blade in both hooves once more, hefting it up and down to test its weight. The fire was growing inside of him, fighting against the chill. He couldn’t get the lie out of his head.

With a snort, he turned away and put the hilt in his mouth. He swung the knife once, twice, a third time, each swing stronger than the last one.

Lightning’s voice became stern. “Careful with that, Gulfie. It was a gift from the princess.”

He knew that! The fire grew, his wings twitching with his anger. First she lied to him, now she was repeating crap he already knew. The chill tugged on the flame, feeding it, egging it on. He took the weapon in his hooves once more and thrust it forward, grinning maliciously as he imagined—

“Okay, that’s enough.” The weapon was pulled from his grip before he had a chance to think about it.

It was like being doused in cold water. He dropped to his haunches and gasped for air, the flame that had been building within almost winking out. His entire body shook and he held himself in a tight embrace. His ears folded to the sound of the blade returning to its scabbard.

Lightning crawled back into bed with a long yawn. “You okay, kiddo?”

No, no he wasn’t. He turned to stare at the knife, heart pounding and breath ragged. “L-Lightning, you’re not gonna take that to the tournament… are you?”

“What’s it matter?”

His lips trembled, he opened his mouth… and closed it. How would she react if he said what he suspected? It would be an accusation against the pillar of Equestria!

He changed tactics. “Are you going to use it?”

She set a fetlock over her muzzle, hiding her face. Frustration tinted the weariness of her words.  “Only if I have to. Go back to bed.”

His heart sank, but his mind was churning out one terrible thought after another. He’d never get to sleep now, not with fear rampaging through his head. Dozens of ideas swam through his mind, including everything from stealing and hiding the knife to literally tying his cousin to the bed. He cast them all aside as hopeless.

With the grim understanding that he couldn’t help his cousin came a powerful dismay. There was also a clarity, a comprehension that these may be Lightning’s final days. It was stupid, he knew Lightning was capable and had a strong chance of winning the contest, and even if she didn’t, she probably wasn’t going to die because of it. But the idea forced vile roots into his brain and refused to go away. He was almost prepared to drop to his knees and beg her to reconsider.

Instead, he walked around the bed and climbed in. Lightning barely lifted her hoof to shoot him an annoyed glance, but he only rested at her side. After a moment, she lowered her hoof back over her face and said nothing, though she did offer a sleepy smile.

He tried to keep his crying as quiet as possible.










January 29, C.Y. 1005
Cloudsdale


Gulfstream adjusted his saddlebags for the tenth time, wondering if he shouldn’t ring the bell again. The cloud house before him wasn’t any bigger than the one he shared with Lightning, but had the advantage of a large cloud yard surrounded by a wrought iron cage. The construction had to have cost a small fortune, to say nothing for enchanting it to be held by cloud foundations. It gave him the unpleasant image of a birdcage.

At last the front door of the house opened. A short, beige stallion peered out at him, his chin covered in a thick but short beard of orange. “Whaddaya want?”

Recalling his manners, Gulfstream bowed his head to the pony. “E-excuse me, sir. I was looking for Summer Showers? I’m a… friend from school.” The word ‘friend’ felt odd on his tongue, but pleasant.

The stallion examined him with a peering gaze, jaw set into a rigid frown. He turned his head back, one eye still locked on Gulfstream. “Summer. Get your rump out here, ya got company.” When the filly didn’t appear immediately he shouted, “Come on, move it! Ain’t got all afternoon.”

His tone made Gulfstream bristle, but he held his tongue.

At last Summer appeared, her ears tucked back and head low. Both immediately straightened when she caught sight of her guest. “Gulfie? What are you doing here?”

The world seemed just a little bit brighter, but Gulfstream’s frown didn’t fade. “Hey, S-Summer. I wanted to ask a favor. Can we… talk?”

She hesitated and looked to her father. The stallion scowled at Gulfstream, but finally nodded. “Go on. At the least it’ll get ya out of my mane for a little while.”

“Thanks, Daddy.” She flew for the gate, opening it with a flick of her hoof at about the same time the front door slammed closed.

Gulfstream raised an eyebrow at the door as she floated out of the birdcage and closed the gate behind her. “Does he always talk to you like that?”

“He’s… Daddy.” Summer sighed and turned to him. “So what’s going on? I never thought you’d come to my house on your own.”

He sat down and rubbed his forehooves together, watching as they rubbed back and forth. “Are you… doing anything during the tournament?”

She head tilted to one side with a pouting frown. “Not really. Dad’s got work those days.”

“Then… would you…” He reached into his saddlebag and pulled out a small envelope. Opening it, he revealed to her two tickets.

Her green eyes lit up like the sun. “Are those what I think they are?”

He nodded, offering one of the tickets to her. She took it gingerly. “Gulfstream, this is great! How’d you get two tickets?”

“My sister gets to invite any number of ponies to watch. Her parents are getting tickets, and Derpy too. I asked her to get me an extra one.”

Summer’s wings burst open and she gave a squee that even he had to acknowledge as adorable. Bounding forward, she wrapped him in a tight embrace. “Thank you, thank you, thank you! This is the best gift ever!”

He wanted to smile. He tried to, but his lips wouldn’t obey. When he didn’t return her hug, Summer slowly backed away. She gazed into his eyes, all happiness faded. “What’s wrong?”

Gulfstream returned to rubbing his hooves together. “Do you believe in… curses?”

“Well, sure. I heard there’s a whole wing in the Royal Spell Library on them.” She leaned forward, worry in her voice. “You don’t think you’ve been cursed, do you?”

“Not me,” he whispered. “My cousin, Lightning.”

Summer gasped, a hoof rising to her lips. “You don’t think somepony’s trying to sabotage her for the tournament, do you?”

He cringed. “N-no. I think Celestia gave her an enchanted weapon. To make her more… aggressive. Obsessive. She’s not like she used to be.”

His friend frowned and shook her head. “Celestia? Why would Celestia curse anypony, especially the one she picked for the tournament?”

“I know it sounds dumb, but I touched that knife and…” He recalled the night before and shuddered. “I’m an angry pony, Summer.”

“Gulfie, you’re—”

“I am and you know it.” Gulfstream cringed at the bite in his words, but Summer took them without so much as a flinch. He proceeded with a softer tone. “I’m angry, Summer. I’m always angry. Lightning taught me how to control it, to push it in the back of my mind and redirect it when I couldn’t. But when I touched that knife… I could feel my anger building. It grew so fast, and I didn’t even think to hold it back. If Lightning hadn’t taken the knife from my hooves when she had, I…”

He choked and bowed his head. “I’m sc-cared, Summer. I think that knife’s doing bad things to my cousin’s head.”

Summer was quiet for a time. He appreciated that, it gave him time to regain control of his emotions and push back the fire that threatened to grow within him. He didn’t look up until he had the threat of tears well under control.

She wore a thoughtful expression, studying him as if he were a curious lab specimen. “So… you haven’t said anything to Lightning about it?”

“How could I?” He rubbed his eyes with both hooves. “ ‘Hey, LD, I think the divine goddess of all that is good is turning you into a raging war machine.’ Lightning all but worships Celestia now, she wouldn’t listen to me.”

“Hmm…” Summer rubbed her chin. “Are you sure Celestia gave it to her?”

He shrugged. “That’s what she said. Why would she lie?”

Summer offered a shrug of her own. “Maybe it was given to her by somepony claiming it was from Celestia.”

Gulfstream absorbed that idea with a deep frown. “You mean, like, somepony else cursed the knife and gave it to Lightning?”

“Well, yeah.”

“I… don’t know.” He pressed his hooves to his head and groaned. “I don’t know, I don’t know. I wish I did. What difference does it make? Lightning’s being cursed. Who cares who is cursing her, I want it to stop!”

“So why not just take the knife away and—”

“No!” He backed away as if stung, body low and wrought with shivers. “I don’t ever want to touch that thing again! I don’t want to be a bad pony. I-I’m good!”

Summer’s eyebrows rose, her lips slightly parted. Slowly, she came closer and touched his hooves with her own. Her voice became soft and soothing. “This really is scaring you, isn’t it?”

He nodded frantically, once again struggling to hold back his tears. But her hooves on his… He had no idea why, but they made him feel at least a little better. “I don’t know what to do. W-what if Lightning becomes like me? What if she gets hurt? Or… Or…”

She shifted a little closer, her eyes filling his vision. “Is that why you want me to come?”

He sniffed and nodded yet again. “I wanted somepony I… I trust. I have to watch, but I don’t think I can do it on my own. P-please, Summer?”

She smiled. It was not an expression of comfort this time, but of genuine pleasure. “You really trust me?” The smile became a grin at his third nod. He had no idea what she had to grin about. “Of course I’ll come. I have to help my friend. Don’t worry, Gulfstream, I’ll be with you to the very end.”

His ears perked, his heart did a little flip. “You will?”

“Of course I—”

Before even he knew what was happening, he’d jumped forward to tackle her in a tight hug. “Thank you! Thank you so much!”










February 1, C.Y. 1005
Cloudsdale


The Cloudiseum. Gulfstream had visited this place often enough, usually to watch Lightning compete in some event or other. It had always been a place of joy, fun and adventure. Today, the structure loomed all around, feeling more like a prison than a site of mass entertainment.

Gulfstream didn’t know whether to be disturbed or not by the seating arrangements. Lightning’s parents, Derpy, Summer and him had been given special seats in one of the viewing boxes… which just so happened to be the same one in which he’d met Nightmare Moon five years ago. That seemed like ancient history to his young mind, and yet he could almost vividly picture the dark alicorn sitting in that same spot. Of course, today there were no guards or royal cloud cushion. His aunt and uncle took up the space that the princess had before.

They were so excited, and why shouldn’t they be? Their daughter was in the tournament, sponsored by Celestia no less! Derpy sat on the window ledge and waved a giant, felt minotaur hand in her hoof, as thrilled as any pony could rightly be. Any odd behavior on Lightning’s part had been pushed aside by those three as her preparing herself for the tournament. Never mind that Lightning had never obsessed over a contest like this before.

Only one pony offered him any comfort; Summer sat beside him, occasionally brushing a wing against his back or touching his hoof. He was so glad he’d invited her to come. All the teasing and giggles behind his back were worth it, and he made sure she knew that.

In the arena below, a race course had been crafted from the local clouds. Over twenty ponies stood around at the starting line. They were the third group of six that would be racing today. They stretched and chatted amongst themselves as they awaited the start of the race. He easily identified Rainbow Dash by her colorful mane. She looked up at the stands as if in search of somepony, her head whipping about.

Far away from her stood Lightning. She spoke to nopony, devoting herself to her warm ups and not indulging any who tried to chat. She’d been that way ever since last night, and the sight left a pit in Gulfstream’s belly. Why was he the only one to notice how un-Lightning that was?

The announcer’s voice rose over the audience, which had filled the Cloudiseum beyond its capacity. Gulfstream tensed as the ponies below went to their starting positions.

Derpy noticed. “Don’t worry, Gulfstream. All a pony has to do to get to the next stage is make at least tenth, and we all know Lightning’s gonna do better than that.”

He tried to nod, but his head barely moved. His neck was too taut. He stared wide-eyed at the ponies lined up in three rows; Rainbow was in the middle, Lightning in the back near the corner. “Let this go well, let this go well, let this go well…”

“It’s okay,” Summer whispered in his ear. “She did fine on the relay and the flag hunt. She’ll be fine here, too.”

“Physically, maybe.” He focused on Lightning’s face and saw it scrunched up in fierce determination. It wasn’t at all like her usual, smirking ‘game face.’

The referee blew a whistle, and the athletes were off! But this wasn’t a flying race; Wonderbolts had to be as capable on the ground as they were in the air, so for this race they went hooves only. Gulfstream watched with quiet anticipation as Lightning and her rivals fell into places and started around the first curve. Not all of them were doing well, and already a good quarter of the ponies were falling behind. Many hadn’t anticipating racing by hoof.

Rainbow was aggressive. She passed ponies without warning, sometimes when there were already three or four side by side. Gulfstream knew that was dangerous; it left little room to maneuver, and forced her to the outside where she had to work harder to close the distance.

Lightning, on the other hoof, hardly ever passed, keeping a steady pace for the entire first four laps. By the fifth, she began to steadily move forward, picking her way up the herd one pegasus at a time. Rainbow, who had originally settled near the back, was closing on her quickly.

Gulfstream barely breathed as he watched the action. He could feel his pulse in his ears and kept one hooftip between his teeth. He barely noticed Summer’s wingtip brushing up and down his back. Five more laps…

Rainbow passed Lightning on the sixth lap. She made no attempt to catch her, but had Lightning glared at her ex? They were on the opposite side of the Cloudiseum when it happened, so Gulfstream wasn’t certain.

On the seventh lap the race really started, or so it seemed to him. As soon as the first pony passed the finish line, everypony on the field kicked into high gear and went from galloping to galloping. The crowd broke into cheers as the tempo of the whole race changed. Ponies started to pass Lightning, despite her added burst of speed. Gulfstream felt a confusing welling of both hope and fear; hope that she might be put out of the tournament early, and fear for how she might take it.

Then, on the eighth lap, the race changed again, but this time in a way Gulfstream never anticipated: Lightning, while caught in the middle of a four-wide formation of ponies, jerked sideways and slammed into the golden pegasus on her right. The pony promptly careened into the one next to him, and the two fell in a jumble of hooves and mane. The ponies immediately behind them didn’t stand a chance, tumbling and tripping and trampling over one another.

Gulfstream gaped at the scene as the racers in the back reacted. The fast-thinking among them managed to run around the incident, but were slowed dramatically as a result. Those not so clever instinctively used their wings to avoid a collision, but in so doing were immediately disqualified. In a single chaotic moment, more than a third of the pegasi were out of the race or too far behind to ever catch up, and that didn’t include the poor ponies who had been involved in the incident.

Cries of outrage filled the crowds. Gulfstream turned his attention to the nearest referee. She made no attempt to stop the race.

“Thank Celestia,” Uncle Meter said breathlessly. “I thought Lightning had been caught in that.”

Gulfstream stared at the stallion. Had he missed Lightning’s actions? Then again, she’d been far away; what if he’d misinterpreted? Surely his cousin hadn’t… cheated. She wouldn’t, not even now.

Would she?

She galloped by their window, flying past slower ponies who had already exhausted themselves. The look of determination and focus on her face hadn’t receded. That icy feeling returned to Gulfstream’s chest as the scabbard, still attached to her leg, glinted in the sunlight.

Lap nine. The racers in the lead swung wide to avoid the scene of the ‘accident.’ A few ponies managed to untangle from the pile and resume the race, but by now they had no chance of continuing in the tournament. A team of medical ponies were on the low side of the track, assessing the damage.

When Gulfstream looked back to the race itself, he found Lightning catching up to Rainbow. The latter had clearly used up all her energy and had begun to lag, but by now she’d made her way to third place. Lightning swept by her easily, and the frustration on Rainbow’s face was clear even from a distance. By the beginning of the final lap, Lightning held the lead.

Aunt Flit and Uncle Meter were cheering like crazy. Derpy was doing a silly dance.

Gulfstream kept quiet, his legs shaking as he prepared to wait for the next event.
> Book III – Gulfstream: Blood on the Wing
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------




You want me to write it down? Write my thoughts and opinions? Fine. Let me tell you exactly how I feel.

I am going to kill Rainbow Dash. I’m going to do it slowly, drawing it out until she’s almost gone, then I’m going to give her time to heal. I’ll do it again, and again, and again.

I hate that bitch.

Bitch.

Are you happy, Fine Crime? I’m not. You can tell me not to. Because I know the stakes, I’ll do what you say. But when this is over and we don’t need her anymore, that bitch is dead. If you get in my way, I will kill you. I don’t care that you’ve given me everything I need to do it. Stay the buck out of my way.

I

will

kill

you

There. I said my piece. Now you can take this stupid book and burn it, for all I care.

—Gulfstream Dust, Book of Shadows XLVIII,
June 5, 1007












February 2, C.Y. 1005
Cloudsdale


“Gulfie, are you sure about this?”

Gulfstream stared at the door in the long hallway. He tried to ignore the way Summer tugged on his shoulder. “It’s… the only option.”

Summer whimpered. “B-but what if Lightning finds out?”

He drew a shaky breath, his confidence slipping on the slope of her doubt. “I… I don’t know.”

Lip trembling, she looked between him and the door several times. “Oh, this isn’t going to end well. Can’t we just go back to our room and pretend this never happened?”

At that, his stance solidified. “It’s happening. I can’t pretend it isn’t. You can can go back if you want, Summer. I won’t blame you.”

She hesitated, a soft whining sound rising from her throat… then she moved a little closer to him. She returned his wan smile unsteadily. He leaned over to nuzzle her cheek, and she responded by pressing a little tighter to his side. It felt so pleasant that his worries faded a little and his smile grew.

But then he turned back to the door. Silence reigned as he took a few slow, careful breaths. He stepped forward, and Summer stepped with him. Raising his hoof proved difficult. He lingered like that for some time, breathlessly willing himself to knock.

Summer did it for him, giving three quick raps with her fetlock that made him jump. She didn’t respond to his reaction, but he still blushed.

Seconds went by. Summer knocked again. When no answer came, Gulfstream stepped away from her to rear back and knock with both forehooves in a rapid rhythm that only the dead – or perhaps inebriated – could miss.

“Alright, already,” came a muffled voice through the wood. The door cracked open a moment later, and familiar red eyes peered out. “Whaddaya… Gulfstream?”

He swallowed the lump in his throat and stared at his hooves. “H-hey, Rainbow.”

The chain bolt came free with a clack. The door opened properly, revealing a disheveled and worn Rainbow Dash. Her eyes were raw, fresh streaks from recently-cleaned tears evident on her cheeks. Her mane was a mess and her wings looked like they needed a good preening.

Yet despite her ragged appearance, her expression was hard. “It’s one in the morning. What the hay are you doing here?”

The question was out, just like that. Too fast. It came too fast. Gulfstream’s eyes shifted, unable to rise from his hooves. “I… I just…”

Despite her earlier hesitation, Summer’s voice came out sharp and certain. “Gulfstream needs your help.”

Rainbow raised an eyebrow at her. “And who are you?”

Gulfstream gave another weak smile to Summer. Her nod was firm, but her eyes were shining with concern. He looked up to Rainbow. “She’s my friend, Summer Showers.”

Comprehension dawned on Rainbow’s face. “Oh. You’re Night Lace’s kid, aren’t you? I heard what happened.”

Summer’s mouth opened, then closed it once more.

“Rainbow?” Gulfstream stepped forward, catching her attention. “I know it’s late and you probably like me as much as I like you, but… can we… talk?”

She studied him with a sour frown. “I’m not forfeiting the match.”

“That’s not what I’m after.”

Her head tilted back. She pursed her lips, but finally nodded and stepped back. “Come on, let’s get this over with. I don’t want Lightning finding out you two slipped off in the middle of the night.”

Half-fearing that Lightning would come walking down the corridor at that very moment, Gulfstream hurried into the dark hotel room. Summer followed at a trot, offering a quiet “thank you” as she did. The door closed, engulfing them in darkness, but Rainbow soon turned on a lamp next to her bed. She beckoned with her hoof, and the two little ponies climbed onto the crumpled up covers.

Rainbow sat on the floor opposite them, her expression as hard as ever. “Gulfstream, the only reason I’m putting up with this is ’cause you helped me out a few times when you had no reason to. I’m willing to give you the benefit of the doubt, but don’t think I’m going to help you with just anything, especially not with the semi-finals coming tomorrow. You know this won’t look good.”

Gulfstream felt a spark of hope. “That’s exactly why I’m here. I’m glad you made it this far, Rainbow. You’re one of the only ponies left who didn’t try to get there by cheating.”

She puffed up her chest, but her lips fell to a grim frown. “I still can’t believe it. Ponies have been breaking the rules left and right, and the refs aren’t doing a bucking thing. I barely beat that jerk with the unicorn helper hiding in the audience.”

Despite his lingered dislike of Rainbow, he couldn’t help but grin. “That was awesome, by the way. Best jousting match of the whole tournament. I never thought I’d see you pretend to be an amateur like that.”

Summer leaned forward, concern lining her voice. “Is your shoulder alright?”

“It’s fine.” Rainbow tapped her shoulder as if to demonstrate. “They got good healers on standby.” Her piercing gaze returned to Gulfstream. “We all know how this started.”

With a wince, Gulfstream nodded. “Lightning. It’s her fault.”

His open confession made Rainbow lean back, her eyebrows rising once more. “Y-yeah. When she cheated in that race, it sent the signal to everypony competing that they could do whatever they wanted and nopony would stop them.”

“I know.” Gulfstream bowed his head once more, his heart heavy. He relaxed a little when Summer rubbed her wing across his back. She did that a lot lately. He didn’t mind.

Silence permeated the room. Gulfstream kept seeing the day play over and over in his mind. Even his aunt and uncle couldn’t deny Lightning’s actions by now, and she hadn’t even come to visit them when the events of the day had ended.

Rainbow’s voice was quiet. “Gulfstream… what happened to her?” When he looked up, she was fidgeting and casting furtive glances away. “She’s never been like this before. She almost took that poor stallion’s head off in the Co-Action Stunts contest, and she’s never cheated before in all her life. What’s going on?”

His heart leapt into his throat and he jumped to his hooves. “Oh, thank Luna, you noticed! I was afraid I’d have to convince you. Rainbow, you’ve got to get into the finals and stop her!”

Her jaw dropped and her eyes nearly popped out of her head.

He took another daring step forward, wings popping open as his words came out in a rapid stream. “She’s cursed and she’s going nuts and you’re the only pony who can do something about it! I don’t care how you feel about me or what you think about Lightning, but you have to do it. Please, I want my cousin back! If you—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Rainbow pushed him back into a sitting position; Summer’s wing immediately wrapped about his shoulders. “Are you telling me you want Lightning to lose?”

“I know it looks bad,” he replied quickly, not noticing the tears welling in his eyes. “It looks terrible and I feel terrible, but I’ll feel even worse if this keeps up. Lightning’s a good pony! I need her back. I can’t let her be like… like… like me.” The tears broke free and he sobbed, leaning heavily on Summer. “She’s good. She has to be g-good. I need her to be good.”

He wept openly, not caring that Rainbow could see. Summer was cooing in his ear, and he clung to her as if she was a life raft in a surging ocean. His entire body shook; he made no attempt to stop it.

It took him a moment to realize that Rainbow was trying to get his attention. She’d dropped forward, her forehooves and chin resting on the edge of the bed as she stared at him with the kind of concern he’d only ever seen her offer to Lightning. “Gulfie? Talk to me. Slowly. Tell me everything.”

And he did. He explained how Lightning had gone to see Celestia and returned with the knife, and how from that point on she had gradually become increasingly aggressive and determined. He recalled her ferocity when she’d thought he was trying to take the knife, and his theory of how it was cursed. He explained his belief that the weapon had changed her completely.

Rainbow listened to every word, her expression growing darker and darker as the story went on. She never spoke, not even to ask a question.

At last the story ended, and Gulfstream felt tired and weak. He’d dropped to his belly at some point, still trembling and feeling so very lost and afraid. He stared up at Rainbow with pleading eyes. “You’re good enough, Rainbow. You can get to the finals with her. You’ve got to do something.” When she didn’t answer, he asked, “You believe me, d-don’t you?”

She stared at the floor, her eyes shifting in quiet thought. At last she looked directly at him. “Yes, Gulfie. I believe you.”

“Then you’ll help?”

“I’ll have to get that knife away from her.” Rainbow rubbed her chin, expression as serious as the grave. “It sounds like things will go back to normal if I do. But if she’s as far gone as you say, then that won’t be easy. She’s better than me at everything.”

That was true, but Gulfstream couldn’t accept it this time. He stood up with a jerk and stomped – an ineffectual motion against the bed. “Maybe she is, but the knife’s screwing with her head. She’s confident and not thinking straight. There’s still one thing you can do that she can’t: the Sonic Rainboom.”

Rainbow’s eyebrows rose. “I thought you didn’t believe I could do that.”

He rolled his head back to shout, “Then prove me wrong! It’s the one and only thing that Lightning can’t counter, because she’s never had to face it! You say you’ve done it before, so do it again. I know you doubt yourself and think she’s better than you, but that’s only true because you say it is!”

Her eyes narrowed. Her lips dipped to a pursing frown. “You’re just saying that.”

“Yes, I am! But I…” His energy faded and he slumped back to his haunches. “I want my cousin back.” Summer’s wing was already wrapped about his shoulders.

They stared at one another for some time. Gulfstream had no idea what else to say, and Rainbow appeared to be in the same predicament.

Summer’s voice startled them both. “You’re an inspiration, Gulfie.”

Rainbow and Gulfstream turned to her at once. She bore a broad, beaming smile, to which he could only respond, “Huh?”

“You’re so… loyal.” She bent forward to nuzzle him, which brought out a fire in his cheeks. “You’re willing to risk everything to get Lightning back to normal. I mean, if she found out about this it would be bad, but you’re doing it anyway. That’s really brave.”

An image of Lightning’s furious visage came to him. He promptly sank to his barrel and threw his hooves over his face. “She’s going to h-hate me.”

Rainbow’s voice was subdued. “Loyal, huh? That’s… so much more than I was. She’s right, kid — you are an inspiration.”

He didn’t bother to remove his hooves, his tone coming out in a grumble. “Now who’s just saying things?”

Hooves touched his own, lightly pulling them apart. Rainbow had a small smile. “Not this time. You’re a good pony, Gulfstream. You’ve got your issues, but you fight them far better than I fight mine, and mine probably aren’t half as serious. I don’t think Lightning will be mad. I think, once she figures out what’s happening, she’ll be proud of you.”

That small, vicious voice in the back of his mind wanted to refute her words, to not accept her kindness. He shoved it into obscurity and smiled back with a sniffle. “I think she’ll be proud of you too.”

Rainbow’s smile didn’t fade, but she suddenly couldn’t look him in the eye. “I don’t know about that.”

“I do.” He sat up and rubbed his eye, opening his wing around Summer. She jumped at the motion, but relaxed quickly. “If you win the tournament, Lightning will be proud. If we can get rid of that knife.”

“And I will.” Rainbow nodded firmly. “Don’t you worry, Gulfie. Now that I know what’s driving her, I know what to do.”

He looked up at her with all the hope he could muster. “Stop her, Rainbow.

“Stop her before it’s too late.”









Gulfstream peered out at the cloudiseum from his spot in the box. Many of the bells and whistles had been removed from the arena entirely, leaving only a flat plain of clouds. Summer sat at his side, her grim expression matching his own. His aunt and uncle were at their usual places, but their excitement from the day before had been replaced with solemnity. Derpy remained near the back of the box. She’d been in something akin to a depression all morning. None of them would come out and say it, but he knew; Lightning might win this tournament, but her methods were eating away at them.

Soon the final match would begin: a one-on-one, no-holds-barred fight. As much as Gulfstream loved a good brawl every now and then, he couldn’t help but think of this event as barbaric. The Wonderbolts were an elite fighting unit, but from all he knew about them – which was a lot – this kind of contest seemed below them. He silently wondered how Spitfire would allow such a thing to be the final event of the tournament.

His brooding thoughts were interrupted by voices through the door behind him. He turned just in time to see a pair of ponies step into the box. The startling thing was that neither of them were pegasi. The earth pony stallion wore a brown suit that blended well with his light-brown coat and graying black mane, although his stubble of a beard seemed off for the ensemble. The unicorn mare, on the other hoof, bore all the stature and poise of a model, complete with long legs, a pristine white coat and luscious pink mane. She outright towered over her partner, her expression the definition of haughty.

“Oh, good,” the stallion spoke up in a thick accent suggesting he was from the southern deserts. “It appears we have not missed the main event.”

They stood for a moment, surveying the scene, before the mare turned to walk towards the two seats between Gulfstream and his uncle. His feathers bristled and he thought about telling her to buzz off, but Summer’s hoof on his shoulder kept him quiet.

The mare paused behind the seat. Her superior demeanor faded to a soft, reassuring smile aimed right at him. “Excuse me, young stallion, but is this seat taken?” She too had an accent, this time of the much more identifiable griffon tongue, though it wasn’t as strong as her companion’s.

Gulfstream frowned, thinking on his options. How did these two even get up to the entrance without wings? Bunch of rich ponies from Canterlot, no doubt, pushing others around like they owned the place. Still, she did have a nice smile, and Lightning probably wouldn’t approve if he—

“They’re both open,” Summer spoke up sweetly. “You and your friend are welcome to take them.”

Gulfstream shot her a glower, but she only smiled.

“My thanks to you both. Come, Doctor.” And the mare promptly sat beside Gulfstream, settling gracefully upon the cushion of cloud. He stared at the sight; he’d heard of cloudwalking spells, but this was the first time he’d seen a pony utilizing one. He reached out to gingerly touch the cloud under the mare, and detected the faint echo of unfamiliar magic coursing through it. He looked up at the mare’s horn, wondering at its great length.

“You’re staring,” whispered Summer.

He promptly jerked his face to the arena, cheeks burning. He thought he heard a light giggle from the unicorn, which didn’t help his cheeks.

Things were quiet for a time, but then the earth pony struck up a conversation with Uncle Meter and Aunt Flit. Gulfstream ignored the chatter, waiting impatiently for the next event to begin.

Until the mare leaned towards him. “You are related to one of today’s combatants, yes?”

He frowned up at her, but no anger swelled inside him. She had a serene smile that he imagined would rival Celestia’s. “Lightning Dust,” he said, his words clipped. “I’m her cousin.” He looked back to the arena.

“Ah, the young Gulfstream. Princess Luna spoke of you.”

His head whipped around. “You know the princess?”

“Indeed I do,” the mare replied, her voice like silk. “She said you wish to become a mighty warrior for her.”

Nopony had mentioned that secret goal of his in an eternity, and he felt the blood rushing right up to his ears. A glance at Summer revealed her surprised stare. “Er… Uh… yeah?”

“Gulfie, that’s dangerous! You really shouldn’t.”

“And who is this young beauty?” the mare asked.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Summer regained her sweet smile – the one that made his wings twitch. “I’m Summer Showers, Gulfie’s friend.”

“A pleasure, young filly. I am Fleur de Lis.”

Summer gasped, her wings popping open as she stood. “You’re a fashion model! A famous one!”

Well, that explained why Gulfstream hadn’t heard of her. He looked up at Fleur with a studious gaze. Sure she was pretty, but…

He got lost trying to figure out where he was going with that thought.

A deep voice rumbled through the cloudiseum; the fight was about to begin. Gulfstream’s attention jumped back to the arena as an announcer pony hovered above the center of the ring. As he summarized the events thus far, Summer leaned over to whisper, “Don’t worry, Gulfie. Rainbow will know what to do.”

He nodded, hoping he looked as confident as she sounded.

The announcer reminded everypony of the grand prize for this tournament, which revealed something Gulfstream hadn’t known: three of the Wonderbolts were sitting not ten feet away in the box right above them. Had he realized that, he might have tried to talk to them about Lightning’s situation. Then again, maybe that wouldn’t have been the best move…

All distractions fled as the announcer began introducing the two finalists. He started with Lightning. Though he used nice, fancy words to keep things civil, Gulfstream knew she was being painted as the villain. He might have objected if she hadn’t been acting like one for the entire tournament. The crowds cheered when he called her name and she flew down from the entry doors to her side of the arena… but there were a few ‘boos’ in there as well.

“Well, your cousin sounds like quite the ruffian.”

Gulfstream’s ears folded back and he sank behind the protective wall. He felt at his stomach and tried not to think too hard on Fleur’s comment.

Then the announcer introduced Rainbow Dash, and the speech was very different. She hadn’t cheated once in the entire tournament, but somehow she was still here. With how she defeated some of her opponents – especially in that jousting match – her reputation was at an all-time high. The cheers were far louder when she flew into the cloudiseum. She was too far away for him to determine her facial expression, but he had a suspicion that she wasn’t happy.

“I think I know who to root for,” Fleur declared in a dainty voice. “No offense, of course.”

Gulfstream forced himself to sit up and watch, even though he wanted to crawl into a corner and hide. The announcer finished speaking and raised a hoof to each fighter. Lightning and Rainbow approached one another and hoof-bumped; the knife's scabbard glinted in the sunlight. It struck Gulfstream as unfair that Lightning had been allowed to bring a weapon while Rainbow was unarmed. But then, maybe she’d simply refused to have one. She’d always been more devoted to the hard effort of bare hooves.

Then again, so had Lightning. Once upon a time.

If they exchanged any words, the crowd didn’t hear them. The ponies paced apart, ending with their backs turned to one another and several yards apart. The announcer flew out of the way, landing on some unseen observation booth. The air filled with murmurings and hushed conversations, the world in a state of calm. Gulfstream gazed at the quiet scene, ticking the seconds in his head.

One… two… three… four… five…

A whistle rang through the air, and Rainbow launched in a cerulean blur. She formed a wide circle clockwise, keeping to Lightning’s back as she turned around. A lucky guess, or did she just know Lightning that well?

Lightning made no attempt to fly. She simply turned in place. Rainbow swerved in for a sideways assault, but her colorful wake ruined the surprise; Lightning saw it, followed it with her head and launched straight up, just avoiding impact. And with that, the fight was on, the crowds erupting in a deafening roar as a rainbow and a lightning bolt danced around the arena.

Gulfstream’s experienced mind analyzed the sight before him as the two improbably fast pegasi turned the sky into a vortex of electrical surges and chromatic lines. Lightning set the pace, keeping ahead and choosing how to maneuver. Rainbow could only try to keep up and catch her in the turns. Sometimes she’d get the angle just right and get in close for a strike, but Lightning was always ready to block the attack. Yet he could tell by the way she shifted her wings and kept her focus that, sometimes, those close calls were intentional.

He had watched them mock-fight in the past, back in a happier time when they were friends. He would never have admitted it back then, but today he recognized that – in terms of sheer athleticism – they were equals. Lightning was more tactical and strategic. Rainbow was all aggression. The only reason Lightning won so often was because she had been smarter.

As she zoomed past their box in a flash of lightning and wind to intercept Rainbow, he suspected she still was.

She caught Rainbow in the middle of a bank, her backside exposed. Rainbow abandoned the maneuver and twisted in midair. She managed to block the hoofstrike, but Lightning still slammed into her shoulder-first, the impact flinging her opponent into the clouds below. Rainbow disappeared, and Lightning turned a tight circle, staying low to the clouds. A second later, Rainbow burst through a scant few feet ahead of her. By the time she realized Lightning’s position, it was too late to avoid taking another hit – this time right between the wings.

Lightning knew Rainbow, too.

“Come on, go for the knife,” Gulfstream hissed, his hooves pressed tight to the wall; when had he reared up? “Use your brains, you stupid pony.”

The combatants shared a few more blows, both getting a few good hits in, before breaking up. Now they flew in smooth, slow circles, each working to catch their breaths. Rainbow passed by the box, and though she had a few bruises, her face was set with determination.

When Lightning passed, she just looked angry.

Abruptly, Lightning began flying in a tight circle. Gulfstream recognized the maneuver even as the air began to coalesce. He immediately saw the mistake, Rainbow moving in before he even finished the thought. She smashed into the cloud, Lightning accelerating away just in time to avoid what would have been a telling blow.

Gulfstream frowned; that had been a dumb maneuver on Lightning’s part. Did she really believe she could create a stormcloud before Rainbow could get to her? Maybe that knife was addling her brain more than he thought.

Lightning changed tactics, and her wake shifted from the familiar electrical blur to her less common smoke. Rainbow pursued, busting the dark clouds as she went, but she focused so much on catching her opponent that she ignored many of them. As the seconds ticked by, the skies became more and more obscured until most of the arena was overcast and neither fighter was readily visible.

Then came the lightning, flashing about the clouds in a chaotic frenzy. Sometimes it streaked past the box, making Gulfstream’s hair stand on end, and other times it was hidden behind the dark cover, only known by the crackling eruptions and bright lights. The clouds gradually faded as their energy released bolt after bolt.

Finally, Lightning herself appeared, moving from cloud to cloud and sending the arcs of electricity flying randomly with her bucks. Rainbow was nowhere to be seen, even her wake hidden from view. A few clouds remained as Lightning paused her attacks, flying in a slow circle in search of her opponent. Gulfstream tensed, realizing Rainbow may have already fallen.

Summer’s gasp caught his attention. She pointed down; there, swirling within the white floor of the arena, was a cloud so black it made Lightning’s appear white by comparison. It spun like the center of a storm, tiny electrical charges sparking like static. The thing was flat with the arena floor, having once been the clouds making up the floor itself.

Rainbow had always been the better weather pony.

Energy erupted from the miniature storm in a quintuplet of lightning bolts, each arching towards one of Lightning's clouds. When struck they sent even more bolts flying to hit the rest of the clouds, turning the air above the arena into a massive maze of electricity. Lightning weaved about, struggling to avoid the bolts. She didn’t even notice the blue blur come flying up from the hole left in the cloud floor.

Maybe Rainbow was smarter than Gulfstream gave her credit for. He gasped, eyes wide as she slammed into Lightning’s exposed belly. The two were flung up as one, and he could just make out a blue hoof reaching for the scabbard—

Lightning flung herself away, delivering a hit to Rainbow’s jaw as she did. The two fell, the knife still attached to Lightning’s leg, and Gulfstream’s heart sank.

Rainbow recovered first, diving after Lightning with a frustrated cry as the last of the lightning and clouds faded. Lightning’s wingbeats were weak and her forelegs were wrapped about her barrel. Even with the air knocked out of her, she managed to twist around and meet Rainbow’s attack, blocking a blow with both hooves. The two landed on the clouds, but didn’t punch through this time. Rainbow had Lightning pinned and was trying to get her hooves on the knife.

They shouted at one another. Gulfstream wished he could make out the words, but they were drowned out by the screaming crowds. He wanted to shout as well, to tell them all to shut up, but how pointless would that be? So he just stared, determined not to blink, his gaze set on the knife as green and blue hooves fought frantically around it.

At last, Lightning managed to escape by delivering a hard strike against Rainbow’s head with the bony edge of her wing. The move made Gulfstream wince; that had to have hurt both of them. It made even his wing tingle. The stunned Rainbow was unable to stop Lightning from thrusting up with her wings to sink into the clouds.

And so the battle went on. Gulfstream watched mostly in mute worry as Lightning and Rainbow came at one another again and again, dragging the fight on far longer than he anticipated. He lost count of how many times they ended up in a grappling match for that knife. A few times he even thought Rainbow was going to get it, but Lightning always found a way to escape. They were battered, bruised and bleeding, but neither pegasus would stay down. For all his fears, Gulfstream couldn’t help but be enthralled; this was a display of aerodynamic combat he never thought he’d get to see in his lifetime. The Wonderbolts above him were probably taking notes.

But the battle wasn’t just physical; the two ponies had been speaking to one another throughout the ordeal. Sometimes it was a few words in a lull, other times they were screaming at one another. Gulfstream never really heard what they were saying, but he didn’t have to. Years of anger, withheld hostility and repressed emotions were seeping into this fight. By the looks on their faces as they passed nearby, he guessed that the words had just as much an impact as the physical blows.

Despite all the ferocity, Lightning gradually gained the upper hoof. Gulfstream could see Rainbow tiring first, and she’d definitely taken more pain than she’d delivered. Her attacks weakened, her flight patterns grew more predictable, her reaction time slowed. By now she could no longer afford to go for the knife, instead devoting all her strength just to keeping up with her opponent.

The two paused for a breather, standing apart from one another on an arena cloud that now had more holes than actual floor. They were near the center of the ring and speaking to one another, but no matter how much Gulfstream leaned out of the box he could hear none of their words. Both pegasi’s shoulders heaved with their breaths, their wings limp at their sides. The crowd had descended into a quiet chatter, everypony knowing that the end would come soon.

Fleur said something. Or was it Summer? He didn’t listen. He only watched, hooves shaking as the anticipation mounted.

Whatever they had been saying, it must have ticked Rainbow off. She flared her wings and, in a sudden showing of energy, launched. She didn’t go for Lightning, but flew high into the sky, still managing to generate impressive speeds. Lightning made no attempt to follow.

Gulfstream’s heart sank. Had Rainbow given up? He never thought she would just fly away from the fight. The grumbling of the audience matched his frustration perfectly.

Until Summer whispered breathlessly in his ear. “Gulfie, look.”

He did; Rainbow was little more than a speck in the sky. She’d stopped flying away, but at this distance he couldn’t tell—

She dove. The approach came at a sharp angle, her speed growing faster and faster.

Gulfstream’s eyes widened as he understood. He looked to Lightning, but she only watched. He knew what she was thinking: Rainbow would never pull it off.

“Come on,” he whispered, looking up to Rainbow. “You can do it. Come on…”

“Do what?” Summer asked.

He didn’t answer. He simply watched, wings spread in anticipation. “Come on, RD. You can do it…”

The cone began to form. He held his breath.

The shape elongated. His heart pounded in his ears.

“Come on… come on…”

The world erupted in colors.

While everypony else in attendance looked away from the chromatic flash, Gulfstream exercised all his will to keep watching. The Sonic Rainboom exploded in all its glory, bathing the sky in a ring of colors as Rainbow, now little more than a streak of colors, rocketed towards the arena at a speed he’d not thought physically possible. He looked down; Lightning’s shock was apparent even from this distance.

Then Rainbow struck, and Lightning went flying. She didn’t get far before the multi-hued streak came again, knocking her in an entirely different direction. The audience watched in mute silence as a ribbon of colors formed in the arena, always coming back to bounce the defenseless pony in a new path. Lightning tried to recover, flapping her wings wildly, but her attempts to escape proved futile as blow after blow rained down on her.

It ended with one final, mighty strike that sent Lightning barreling haphazardly, striking the solid wall of the arena with a whack so loud it reverberated in Gulfstream’s ears. She fell to the cloud floor in a heap and didn’t move.

Rainbow landed not far away, the aura of her rainboom fading as she panted and huffed. She appeared about ready to collapse herself. Seconds passed in silence, everypony in the audience gaping in a stupor.

The cheers came abruptly, so loud it startled her. Seconds passed as she took the moment in, and then she was rearing back and shouting. Reveling.

Gulfstream paid her no mind. He was still staring at his beloved cousin, worry eating away at his mind. She’d lost, and she still had the knife. But more importantly, she was hurt. How bad could it be? Rainbow’s hits had indeed seemed powerful…

He sucked in a gasp; Lightning moved. Her head rose in a slow, woozy motion. She shook it, then looked around. Gulfstream’s heart resumed pounding as he wondered how she would take her loss.

He jumped onto the wall and spread his wings.

“What are you doing?” Summer grabbed his leg. “We can’t go out there!”

“I have to talk to Lightning.” He tried kicking her away, but she held firm.

His aunt shouted. “Gulfstream! Get down from there this minute! I know you’re excited, but—”

“But nothing!” He managed to shove Summer away. Her pained expression was like a knife to his heart, but he had more important things to worry about. “Lightning needs me!” But just as he tried to fly off, something caught his tail, stopping him with a jerk.

He hung upside down, momentarily stunned, then looked up to find his tail surrounded by a pink aura. Fleur de Lis answered his scowl with an apologetic smile.

“Let me go!” He waved his legs wildly. “Dang it, this is important!”

“What is she doing?”

At Derpy’s alarmed tone, he jerked his head about to look into the arena. Lightning marched on shaky legs for Rainbow, whose back was turned to her.

The knife was in her mouth.

Panic struck. Gulfstream’s wings beat frantically as she tugged on his tail. “Lightning! Lightning, no! Rainbow!!”

It was no use – his words were lost amidst the wild cheers. Maybe others were trying to call out a warning, but there was such a cacophony that he couldn’t tell.

Rainbow didn’t see it coming. She was still reared up, hooves pumping in the air, when she turned to Lightning. The knife flashed in the sunlight… and disappeared.

All movement ceased. Gasps rang out through the arena.

Lightning’s head, low by Rainbow’s barrel, rolled up in a slow, jerky motion, each move making Rainbow flinch. Then she stepped back, and Rainbow fell. Blood seeped into the clouds. The hilt of the knife could still be seen in her chest.

Gulfstream watched, mouth hanging open, unable to comprehend what he’d just seen.

His cousin fell to her haunches. The cheers came back, but she didn’t offer anything in return. She merely stared at Rainbow’s body. Gradually, she lifted her hooves and stared at them. Even from here, the shaking was obvious.

Her head whipped around frantically. Her face turned towards the box, and he knew she was looking right at him.

She shrieked. He could just hear it over the uproarious applause, a sound that encompassed heartbreak and horror in a single piercing note. She lifted Rainbow’s limp form in an embrace, burying her head in the mare’s shoulder.

The hold on his tail loosened, and Gulfstream was flying to the scene before he could even register the need. Tears blurred his vision as Lightning’s sobs reached his ears. This was all wrong. This wasn’t how things were meant to go! He had to do something, talk to her, help her, something!

He came to a stumbling landing a few yards behind her. Lightning’s crying stabbed into his heart like icepicks, but he had to stay in control. He had to… to deal with this. Somehow. He rubbed his eyes, frantically thinking of what he would do next.

The crying stopped, replaced by a gurgling sound. He lowered his hooves from his eyes.

A thin blade protruded from the back of Lightning’s neck.

A sheet of ice ran across Gulfstream’s body as he took the sight in. The world slowed, a distant ringing plaguing his ears. Lightning stepped back, her hooves reached for her throat. She started to turn away. He saw her jaw opening and closing like a fish out of water, her eyes wide and her pupils mere pinpricks. Then she fell, landing on her side, the impact quiet on the bloodstained clouds.

He stared at her as she convulsed, the hilt of Celestia’s gift pressed at an angle beneath her jaw. One hoof reached for him. He couldn’t even bring himself to reach back. Her eyes pleaded, her chest heaved as her lungs failed to take in breath after breath. Shadows overcame them both; somepony grabbed him and pulled him away.

He lost sight of Lightning. With nothing else to focus on, his gaze turned to Rainbow. She lay on her back, blood seeping from a long, wicked cut running from her right hip, across her body and stopping at the left of her chest. Her eyes were aimed straight up, wet and wide and unseeing, but still very much alive.

Then she too was hidden by a mass of ponies.

The world went by in a haze. Ponies were trying to speak to him. He was being held tightly in trembling legs. There were sobs, but they weren’t his. All he could think of was a fact he’d never believed possible, and which he didn’t dare speak of.

Lightning.

His precious cousin.

His life, his world, his salvation.

His sanity.

Lightning was… was…

The mass of colors parted just enough. He saw the knife, bloodied and lying near Lightning’s body. She wasn’t moving. Ponies were doing things, trying to help, but he saw her face. Her eyes were cold, emotionless.

Empty.

They weren’t meant to be empty. They were supposed to be happy, or frustrated, or sad. They were supposed to shine upon him. And now…

Something caught his face, moved his head away from the sight. It might have been his uncle. He didn’t listen, didn’t pay attention. Instead, his gaze went over the pony’s shoulder. There was Rainbow. Her bleeding chest rose and fell slowly. She had tears in her eyes as she was carefully set on a medical wagon. Her gaze met his.

In an instant, what had been a carefully controlled spark in the depths of his mind flared into an inferno the likes of which he’d never known before. Gulfstream barely registered his own scream. He lunged, wings beating wildly as he tried to get to her. Legs caught him from all sides, but he bucked them away.

“Rainbow!”

Her pupils shrank as he approached.

“I trusted you! I asked for your help! You bucking bitch, look at what you’ve done! I’m going to kill you!”

Ponies jerked him back just before he reached the wagon, his hooves outstretched for her throat. She recoiled from his snarls, shrinking back to a corner of the wagon as if he were a dragon instead of a young colt.

“I hate you! Hate, hate, hate, hate, hate you! I won’t stop, do you hear me? I won’t stop until I see you dead!”

His ranting went on even as the wagon pulled her away. He kicked and bucked and shrieked and raged, the fire untamed and burning everypony who came near. “Let me go! Buck you, let me go! She has it coming!”

No longer did he try to control it. He didn’t want to, didn’t care to.

He just wanted her to burn.

A hoof struck him across the face. The pain felt good. He howled at his assailant and was rewarded with another blow. They were dragging him off, but he couldn’t let them. They were on her side, the bastards! He had to find a way, some means of getting back at—

The knife. He saw it out of the corner of his eye, still lying in a puddle of Lightning’s blood.

The ponies never expected him to fly backwards. Their holds failed and he jerked free, a red streak in his wake. They tried to give chase, but he darted around them, dove low and snatched up the knife.

Ice encased his heart in an instant, but it only added fuel to the fire in his soul. His desire to hurt, to be hurt, to kill swelled as he flew high into the sky, away from his pursuers. The weapon spoke to him, begged to be wielded. He swore to bathe it in Rainbow’s blood.

But when he paused above the arena to scan for her, the wagon was nowhere to be found. He let out a vicious cry and flew away from his pursuers, uncaring about the direction.

Getting caught wasn’t an option.

He had to find Rainbow.

Whatever the cost.
> Book III - Gulfstream: A New Avenue
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------




I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.

Uncle Fine, Miss de Lis, I’m sorry.

I’m just so angry about it. Angry about everything.

I’m still scared. I know you’re both trying, but without her I don’t think I can do it. It’s like my brain is constantly boiling. I just want to lash out and hurt somepony!

Sometimes I wish I could be more like Surprise. At least then I wouldn’t feel so guilty about the blood on my hooves.

Lightning’s gone. I’m still trying, but Lightning’s gone.

I used to think I could be a good pony.

I don’t anymore.

—Gulfstream Dust, Book of Shadows XLVIII,
June 6, 1007












February 6, C.Y. 1005
Canterlot


Gulfstream was hungry, he was dirty, and – in the midst of a windy day within one of the most elevated cities in Equestria – he was cold. He’d slept in hay bales and hidden under bushes for the past three nights, most of his food had been taken via theft, and he was pretty sure he’d acquired fleas last night. He spent each night sobbing and each day raging.

None of that mattered.

What mattered was the knife in his hooves, the aching hole in his gut, and the blue pegasus in the street below.

He had perched behind the chimney of one of Canterlot’s many tall buildings just outside the castle. He’d never been to the city, never thought he’d see the castle itself, but he barely paid them any mind. His unkempt wings ached with tension as he worked to keep them close to his body, not daring to spread them lest he give away his presence. He ran the flat of the blade along one forehoof, watching as Rainbow made a stand at the castle gates.

How she had managed to move with her injury, he couldn’t imagine. By the time he’d found out that she’d left Cloudsdale, she’d already had a two day head start – by train. Catching up had been a lot of hard work, and when he did she’d already been in the city for over a day. Somehow, she managed to move about on her own power, but it was at a hobbling pace.

Gulfstream studied his nemesis, swallowing the bile that rose in his throat. Rainbow was nothing short of a mess, most of her body wrapped in bandages. Fresh, from the looks of things; somepony had been caring for her on the journey. He suspected she’d slipped out of a hospital in order to go to the castle.

Her attempt proved futile. No less than five Royal Guards stood before the gate, fully armored and barring her entry. She’d been alternating between talking and yelling, but they wouldn’t budge.

Gulfstream continued to rub the knife, his blood boiling with hatred. He kept seeing Lightning’s pleading eyes. Sometimes he thought she was calling to him. Her voice begged him to reconsider, but that last vestige of her influence grew more and more quiet as his anger simmered. He would strike soon, but not yet. The guards would stop him if he went down there now.

So he waited, ignoring a soft headache and anticipating Rainbow’s screams. Oh, but they would be glorious. A fitting end for such a pathetic pony.

He blinked; the screams weren’t just in his head anymore. Rainbow threw herself at the guards, her furious cries filling the streets.

“I know you can hear me! You can’t do this to me! I needed you, I trusted you, I murdered the love of my life for you! Damn it, let me go, we’re not through! Luna? Luna!”

Her shrieks continued as the guards held her back. She clawed and snarled and raged and bit. She didn’t stand a chance, and had to have known it. With a final thrust, the guards knocked Rainbow to the cobblestones. She lay there for some time, fresh blood seeping through her bandages as she sobbed.

Gulfstream felt no pity.

Seconds passed. Thunder rumbled in the distance. Still Rainbow lay there. Gulfstream grew impatient, his tail lashing back and forth as he silently cursed her. If the stupid mare would just move…

At last, she did. Rainbow’s legs wobbled; she didn’t stand so much as she crouched. She looked to the castle one more time, her head craning back to take in the structure. Her cheeks glistened with tears. Then, head hanging and wingtips dragging in the dirt, she turned away. Gulfstream’s body tensed as he watched her go.

He followed, sticking to the rooftops to avoid being spotted. He had to do this right. Too many guards around and he’d be caught. Gulfstream wasn’t afraid of that. He could spend the rest of his life in prison for all he cared. He just didn’t want them to show up too soon; Rainbow’s death had to be as slow and painful as he could manage.

She moved at a sedate pace, hooves scuffling the ground. The few unicorns who didn’t outright ignore her watched her pass with blatant disdain. None approached, and some eagerly moved out of her way, as if she might be poisonous. She paid them no mind. Gulfstream wasn’t sure she even knew where she was going.

All the better.

The Canterlot weather team had been pulling rainclouds over the city. Now, nearly an hour after her outburst, the sky was overcast and gloomy. Gulfstream hoped a storm would come; it would mask her screams and give him more time.

Rainbow paused in the middle of a random back street. Her entire body shook visibly, and she abruptly turned to shuffle for some dark alleyway.

A thrill ran through Gulfstream as his opportunity presented itself. He glanced around and saw how empty the street and alleyway were. Perfect. With a wicked grin, he opened his wings and dropped to the road below. As quietly as he could, he hurried after Rainbow.

He turned the corner in time to see Rainbow fall sideways against the wall… and begin to weep. It wasn’t loud, but it appeared to be physically overwhelming. Gulfstream’s grin broadened as he approached, the knife low in his hoof. He would come from the side, aim for her wings. One neat slice to cripple her. He could almost see the blood, and her sobs were like a pleasant music.

Yes. His heart pounded, his hoof shook, his wings trembled. Just a few more steps. The knife shined in his mind’s eye like a sun, begging to be fed blood.

Five steps left. He held his breath, slowed his approach. Rainbow had her face covered with a cannon, she would never see him coming. Too easy.

He readied the knife.

Rainbow disappeared.

Gulfstream’s jaw dropped. He stared at the space where she’d just been, trying to understand what just happened. Had she noticed him coming? But… Rainbow couldn’t just vanish into thin air!

He looked down the alley and nearly dropped the knife; a wall of pink blocked the exit. He turned around and saw the opposite side of the alley looked exactly the same. “W-what the…”

“I fear I can’t let you do that, little colt.”

That accent…

He spun about to find a familiar pink unicorn standing at the end of the alley. It was Fleur de Lis, in all her splendor. She looked upon him with the air of pity, even as her horn shined brightly.

Gulfstream aimed the dagger at her. “W-what did you do?!”

Fleur’s soft frown didn’t fade. She approached, her every movement graceful and refined. “I am sorry, Gulfstream. We need Rainbow Dash to live. I know you can’t understand, but—”

“I don’t care!” He swung the knife a few times, even though she was much too far away for it to matter. “I’m going to kill her. You can’t stop me. Lightning deserves to be avenged!”

The glow of Fleur’s horn intensified, and the knife melted in his hooves. Gulfstream jumped back, gaping as the silver and gold goop that had once been his method of vengeance fell to the cobblestones and disappeared, seeping through the ground as if it were silt instead of stone. “H-how did you do that?”

He looked up and gasped upon seeing a familiar scabbard hovering just before Fleur, complete with the sun’s insignia. The metallic liquid reappeared above it, formed back into the knife, then slid inside the scabbard. Fleur promptly tucked it into a saddlebag.

Gulfstream stomped with a growl. “That was Lightning’s. Give it back.”

“It belongs to the Archons now.”

“The Arch—” He paused, his brain running over that response. “You’re an Archon?”

Fleur sat, her gaze turning studious. “Indeed. We have been watching your family for some time, mostly due to your relationship with Rainbow. It was inevitable, seeing as of how she caught Luna’s attention.”

He bristled at the mention of the princess. “What does she have to do with this?”

Fleur’s response came in a hushed tone. “Everything, and Rainbow still has a part to play.”

“No!” Gulfstream spread his wings and bared his teeth at her. “I’m going to kill her. Lightning deserves justice!”

“You just want petty revenge.”

“You’re damn right I do!” He scuffed the cobblestones with a snort. “I’m doing this. You wanna stop me, you’ll have to kill me.”

Fleur lifted a hoof to her lips as she observed him, her eyes lidded. “I think I have something better for you. How would you like to earn the right?”

“Earn it?” He stomped a couple times and flapped his wings. “She was my cousin! More than that, she was my guiding light! My heart, my soul, my ticket to a life of good. Rainbow took her away. What more do I have to lose to earn it?!”

The response cracked like a whip. “You are just a foal, and I am not speaking of age.” Fleur flicked her mane and raised her muzzle high. “You think you are suffering, little colt? You do not know what pain is. We can hone your skills, make you into something better, stronger, faster. Lightning was going to be a Wonderbolt. You could be our own special Wonderbolt. You wanted to be a warrior for Princess Luna? Now’s your chance.”

The anger faded as comprehension dawned. He took a step back, one leg raised anxiously. “Are you saying you want to… to hire me?”

“No, little colt. I am offering you an apprenticeship.”

His wings fell to the ground as he gawked. “B-but why would you do that? I’m a monster!”

Fleur’s smile was sad. “Aren’t we all? Lightning would not want you to lash out in anger.”

“You don’t know anything about Lightning!”

“She was trying to help you control the fire inside you,” she pressed, her words soothing. “We will continue the work where she left off. Just because she’s gone, that doesn’t mean you have to fall into violence, Gulfstream.”

The anger broke in a strangled gasp, replaced by all the sorrow and fear that had been pouring out of that hole in his stomach. He fell to his haunches, tears threatening to burst from his eyes. She was right. So right. He’d known it all along, but without Lightning… “You c-can’t help me.”

“Are you so sure?”

He looked away, his eyes burning. “Why would you want to help me, anyway?”

Her words tickled his ears and soothed the flames. “Because we know what it’s like to hurt, and to hurt others. We are the boogieponies, Gulfstream. There’s a difference between being a monster and being a warrior. Let us show you how to tame the beast within you.”

It sounded so… so tempting. This couldn’t be real. But if it was…

His thoughts drifted to Lightning. He recalled her laughter, her smile, her words of encouragement. He could remember cuddling beside her in the bed. He wanted that feeling back. He wanted it so badly…

He saw her teary gaze, pleading for his understand and aid. He saw the blood.

His wings tensed. He stared at his hooves. “And Rainbow?”

That pitying frown returned to her face. “I would hope that we could turn you away from your desire to murder her. At the very least, we cannot permit her to die… yet. But if I might ‘sweeten the pot,’ as they say, you could take comfort in the knowledge that we will always be keeping an eye on her. Perhaps, should a time come when we no longer have need of her, you may take advantage of our information network to exact your revenge.”

Lightning wouldn’t want that. He knew she wouldn’t want that. Somehow, he’d lost sight of everything his cousin had taught him. His thoughts turned to the knife, and a chill ran through his heart.

It dawned upon him just how close he’d come to leaping over the edge. Lightning had kept him safe all those years. Now that she no longer held the lifeline, was he really that eager to jump off the cliff?

No. No, he wasn’t.

Fleur regained that pretty smile. “I take it you’ve made a decision?”

He took a tentative step closer. “I… I don’t know what I want to do with Rainbow. A big part of me still wants to kill her.” His eyes narrowed. “That will remain an option?”

She nodded. “Should there come a time when we don’t need to keep her alive, then yes.”

He closed his eyes. Lightning’s life flashed in the darkness; every laugh, every tear, ever stunt, all flowing by in a beautiful and depressing montage.

“What do I have to do?”









Gulfstream sat on a large red cushion. Next to a cloud, it was probably the softest thing he’d ever touched. Fleur stood at his side. Across the desk sat a unicorn stallion of mottled brown hues and a black mane, adorned in a black and red vest. He gazed at the colt in a way that made Gulfstream think of a wolf. Despite his attempt to show confidence, Gulfstream felt uneasy at the harsh attention.

Not taking those sharp eyes off him, the stallion finally spoke. “Little Miss, why is there a colt in my office?”

Gulfstream bristled.

“Not just any colt,” Fleur replied confidently. “This is Gulfstream Dust, cousin of the late Lightning Dust.”

An eyebrow rose. “The question stands.”

She blinked, clearly taken aback by his deadpan manner. “I… I found him in Canterlot. He was going to kill Rainbow Dash.”

“And?”

Though his teeth ground together, Gulfstream kept his lips firmly sealed. She’d told him to keep quiet unless directly spoken to and, though he wasn’t sure if any of this was worth it, he felt determined to keep his cool.

Fleur hesitated, but then set a hoof to Gulfstream’s shoulder. “I want to make him my apprentice.”

“I don’t see a horn on his head. What, exactly, did you plan on teaching him?”

This time Fleur’s tone was firm. “Control. Strategy. Combat. I know you’ve read his file. He has skills we could use. You can’t tell me the scenario didn’t pass through your mind at some point or another.”

The corner of the stallion’s lip twitched into a smile. “Maybe I did. But he’s pretty young.”

Her muzzle rose, accompanied by a prim sniff. “I was younger.”

The smile grew. “So you were.”

Gulfstream felt the heat rising. He wanted to remind them that he could hear them. He fought the urge down by thinking of Lightning and how this might be something she’d approve of. It was the only thing keeping him going.

“Do you know who I am?”

It took him a minute to realize the question had been aimed his way. He glanced at Fleur, who nodded. “Not really. Should I?”

The stallion shrugged and replied with a carefree, “I’m Fine Crime, the Mane Archon.”

Despite the laid back manner of the statement, Gulfstream could have sworn a jolt of electricity passed through him. He straightened up, tucked his wings in and tried to appear as confident and firm as he could. In his mind, however, he was doing a little dance. Fine Crime, Celestia’s dark hoof. Fleur hadn’t been lying; this was his chance to be a warrior for Princess Luna, and he was not going to pass it up!

Fine gained a grim smile at the physical response. “I see you’ve heard of me.”

Gulfstream tried to think of something important to say, something that might impress the second most powerful pony in the world. To his chagrin, all he managed was a dumb “Yep.”

Fine raised an eyebrow. His stare shifted from Gulfstream to Fleur and back. “There’s two things that need to be made clear to both of you.” His gaze locked on Fleur. “First, if this happens, you’re taking full responsibility. His mistakes are your mistakes, and you will be held accountable. You’re the one wanting this, so you’re the one taking the risks.”

Fleur pursed her lips. Her expression, once confident, shifted to severe. “I… understand.”

“You better, because that leads into my second point.” He set his eyes on Gulfstream. “If you intend to be directly associated with him, that means he’d be a junior member of the Order. I’m not the one who decides who gets in.”

Another flash of hesitation in Fleur’s expression. “But you always pick the members of the Order. Nopony joins without your go ahead.”

He nodded, yet his expression was hard. “And every pony I’ve approved of had to gain the acceptance of one other, and her tests are… dangerous.”

Fleur swallowed audibly, but said nothing.

Gulfstream looked between them, taking in their grim faces. His wings trembled with excitement… and worry. “Who?”

Her response was quiet. “Celestia.”









Gulfstream gave the hall an incredulous look. “She wants us to meet her down here?”

They were in, for lack of a better description, a dungeon. Judging by the stoic guards, that's probably what it was. He wanted to fly in order to look through the barred windows of the many doors they passed, but Fleur had expressly forbade any flying while down here. He couldn’t imagine why, but her fevered insistence was enough to tell him to obey.

Her response to his query was little more than a jerk of a nod. Though her every step was graceful, there was a faint wobble to her knees and a twitch in her eye. Something about the coming meeting had Fleur terrified, but Gulfstream couldn’t imagine why.

Then again, this was Celestia they were going to see. The knife – the very thing that screwed with Lightning’s head and led to her death – had supposedly come from the princess. That alone was enough to keep the fire burning, and containing it wasn’t easy. Still, he had no choice but to hold back. He knew well enough to know that he’d never be able to kill the Goddess of the Sun, and he wasn’t going to waste his life like that when he could be doing something to make Lightning proud.

But he still had every intention of asking about it.

They turned a corner, and movement immediately caught his eye. Between the doors ahead was a familiar white pegasus. She bounced in place with a grin, her curly blonde mane and tail rising and falling to her movement. She waved excitedly mid-bounce as the two approached.

“Hey, Fleurry, hey Gulfie! I’ve been waiting for you to show up because Celestia told me to and so here I am and she said I could play once you went in so could you please please hurry because I haven’t played in ages and I’m hungry and I hear we’ve got a screamer in cell twelve so if you’d just hurry that would be great!”

Gulfstream paused. “You’re that pony that was following Rainbow Dash!”

The pegasus literally screeched to a stop in her bouncing, her eyes going wide.

Gulfstream felt a hoof tap his shoulder. He turned to find the pegasus’s eyes filling his vision, suspicion set upon her muzzle. “How’d you know about that?”

He blinked, then looked to the hall. No pegasus. He looked to his side… and she wasn’t there, either.

“Nice call picking this one, Fleurry!”

He turned to discover the pegasus leaning against Fleur’s side opposite him, a broad grin on her face.

“He’s good.”

Fleur sighed, her brow furrowed and her eyes closed. “I’m sorry, Surprise, but I don’t have time for your antics right now. Where is—”

“Celestia’s in cell eighteen, the big one.”

Gulfstream froze, paying close attention this time. Surprise still leaned against Fleur, but the voice had come from down the hall. He kept his eyes on the pegasus for as long as he could while turning his head forward, but she hadn’t moved. When he finally shifted them forward, Surprise was back in her original spot, grinning at them and bouncing like before. He gawked, then looked back to Fleur; Surprise no longer stood at her side.

“H-how… What…”

Surprise paused in her bouncing to stare at him, her smile a little smaller. There was something odd about her eyes, like they weren’t seeing him so much as seeing inside him. Her head tilted one way, then another.

“Sorry, Gulfie, but you’re not gonna make it.”

He sputtered, an abrupt worry making his stomach churn.

Then Surprise was bouncing again, her smile back in full force. “But you’ve got a long time before that happens, and we’re gonna have a lot of fun together in the meantime. I’m finally gonna have somepony to play with!”

Fleur’s eyes opened in a heavy-lidded stare. “Surprise, what do you—”

“Reallyhungrydidmypartgottagobye!” Surprise ran into a nearby room, slamming the door behind her.

With a sigh and a shake of her head, Fleur said, “That pony is so random.” She had the tiniest of smirks.

“H-how does she do all of that?” Gulfstream asked her, turning a circle and half expecting the pegasus to appear wherever he looked.

“When you figure that out, be sure to let us know.” Fleur cast a thoughtful look his way.

Her gaze lingered long enough that he started to fidget. “What?”

“Surprise has something akin to a sixth sense,” she replied, her tone curious. “If she claims something is going to happen… I would advise that you keep it in mind.”

He frowned as he considered this. “So you think I’m ‘not going to make it?’ Like, I’m gonna die?”

Fleur shrugged and resumed walking. “That’s one interpretation. There could be others. You’ll soon learn about Surprise’s gifts for yourself.”

Gulfstream followed, anxiety nipping at his heels and making his wings twitch. He realized that Fleur had assumed he would be accepted by Celestia. An oversight… or faith in Surprise’s words?

A shriek rose from the door Surprise had entered, the sound lingering as they passed. Gulfstream eyed the bars above the door but, as the screamed increased in pitch, decided he’d rather not know.

The cries faded as they went on, but never quite stopped. The shaking in Fleur’s legs had ceased, but her grim expression still spoke of worry. “Now remember, Gulfstream; Celestia will test you. It’s not about passing or failing. It’s about appealing to her tastes. Whatever it is she plans for you, it won’t be pleasant.”

He shrugged. “I doubt she set up something that hard in the few hours since she found out I was here. How bad can it be?”

Fleur jerked to a stop. Her lips pulled back in a silent snarl as she glared at the hall ahead of them. “Let me make this perfectly clear to you: Celestia planned this days, maybe even weeks ago. She is clever, ever-prepared and cruel. You will not be tested based on your physical abilities, but on your mental fortitude.”

Her head twisted about to center her fiery eyes upon him, and he couldn’t help backing away at their intensity.

“Celestia is going to try to break you. How you handle that will determine if you can be an Archon. Prepare yourself, Gulfstream Dust, or be crushed.”

He raised his hooves as if to ward off a blow. “Okay, okay. I get it.”

“I find that highly doubtful.” With a toss her her mane, Fleur continued down the hallway. “But you will learn quickly.”

Releasing his breath in a long, slow exhale, Gulfstream took a moment to steady his freshly frayed nerves before following. Her warning – and her eyes – repeated in his head several times. How could Celestia know of his coming? That didn’t make sense. He didn’t know he would be here until a few hours ago.

Yet the ferocity of Fleur’s words remained with him. Somehow, he knew it wasn’t an idle statement. He focused less on the walk and far more on keeping a firm grip on the spark in his mind. Now would be the absolute worst time to lose his cool.

Fleur knocked on a cell door like any other. By the third strike, the door came open in a golden glow. Gulfstream’s insides danced as, for the first time, he really grasped what was going on. He was in Canterlot Castle. He was going to meet Princess Celestia herself. Why hadn’t the enormity of this moment hit him earlier?

Fleur noticed his wobbling legs. Without so much as a word of encouragement, she entered the cell.

Gulfstream struggled to reclaim control of his body. His brain was drowning in a flood of uncertainty. His situation seemed to grow more dire by the minute; not only was he meeting the Goddess of the Sun in pony, but it was for a job interview! An interview to work with one of the most dangerous, feared and powerful ponies in the world! He was just a colt with an anger problem, not even able to protect his cousin from death. How could Fleur possibly believe he deserved to be here?

But he was here. She’d brought him to this dungeon to face a test. If he passed…

“For Lightning,” he whispered, taking slow and shaky breaths. It proved enough to get his trembling legs to move. Gradually, his head low but his eyes up, he passed through the cell.

His breath caught in his throat at the sight of her. Celestia faced away from him, her brilliant mane wafting to an unseen wind along her pristine back. Her face remained hidden, directed to a wall of bars. Doubting the truth of his eyes, Gulfstream looked to see her flanks adorned with the brilliant golden sun that was her cutie mark.

It was her.

It was really her.

Fleur had knelt in a deep bow behind Celestia. She said not a word, but Gulfstream decided it would be best to emulate her example; he stepped forward and imitated her low pose. Her eyes were closed, so he closed his own.

The door shut behind them.

Hoofsteps.

“So,” a pleasant, gentle voice said, “this is the candidate. I did not expect one so young.”

“Your majesty,” Fleur replied, her tone submissive. Gulfstream didn’t know if he should speak, so he leaned to the side of caution and kept his lips firmly sealed.

“Fine Crime tells me that you, Miss de Lis, wish to make an apprentice out of this colt. Rise, and tell me why.”

Gulfstream started to rise, but a touch from Fleur warning him to stay down. He chewed his lip, wishing he could open his eyes and look upon the face of the pony who may have manipulated the death of his cousin.

No. He had to keep the fire under control.

“I believe Gulfstream will make an excellent addition to the Archons and the Order.” Fleur paused, but Celestia said nothing. “He is a talented flier, more than he knows. His aggression can be channeled for combat, his small stature can be purposed towards stealth. He has a fire in him, a desire for revenge that will fuel him in his training and missions. He—”

“He’s a powderkeg.”

Gulfstream winced at Celestia’s harsh tone. He could feel her eyes boring into his backside.

“You think I didn’t read the reports? He’s likely to attack just about anypony. Without his cousin to keep a leash on him, he’ll fall to barbarity.”

Barbarity?

He couldn’t stop the fire from igniting. Before he knew it, he was hovering a few feet off the ground and glaring at the princess. “You’re one to talk! You’re the one who gave the knife to Lightning. It’s your fault if my leash snapped!”

“Gulfstream!”

“No!” He waved Fleur away, not taking his eyes off Celestia. “I’m not going to let her insult Lightning’s hard work, not after what happened. She’s partly responsible!”

Celestia’s eyes were ominous, but her lips curled into a smirk. “It’s okay, Fleur. He’s right.”

The fire nearly winked out. His legs fell limp as he stared at her. “Wait… You’re not denying it?”

“Fleur, the knife?”

Fleur responded instantly, hurrying to pull out the scabbard from her saddlebags. Celestia took it in her magic, eyes not leaving Gulfstream’s, and let the sheathed weapon hover between them.

“I have an important question for you, Gulfstream,” she cooed. “Who do you blame?”

He bristled, opened his mouth—

Celestia’s hoof rose. “Not. So fast. I wasn’t finished.”

Gulfstream’s teeth clicked closed. He glared, but waited.

Celestia sat and raised her left hoof as if to hold something in it. “On the one hoof, you have me. I gave the knife to Lightning, and I had it cursed to heighten her aggression and ambition to obsessive levels. Had I never given Lightning the weapon, she would probably still be alive.

“But what about my sister, hmm?” She chuckled at his uncertain frown before raising her other hoof so its position mirrored the first. “Did you forget? She visited Rainbow Dash in her dreams. She encouraged Rainbow, gave her hope, instilled passion within her. Luna rekindled Rainbow Dash’s dreams for glory, and that led to her joining the tournament. Had she not done that, Rainbow would not have entered at all, and she would not have murdered Lightning in cold blood.”

Celestia’s smile turned coy as she tapped her chin. “Of course, she did abandon Rainbow right before the tournament. Rainbow was determined to catch Luna’s attention once again, which is why she fought so hard. I can only imagine how delightfully crushed she must have been when my sister didn't even show up to watch.”

“Whoa, wait.” Gulfstream leaned closer, his eyes wide. “Princess Luna… dumped Rainbow?” He recalled the night he and Summer went to ask for Rainbow’s help. He could still see her bloodshot eyes.

Why hadn’t he noticed that before? They seemed so obvious now.

“So tell me, little colt,” Celestia asked pleasantly. “Who holds the blame in your heart? Me, or my sister?”

Was this the test? He knew his answer was important, but this didn’t seem as soul crushing as Fleur had made it out to be. In fact, he already had an answer.

“Neither of you.” He crossed his legs and raised his head in confidence. “I went to Rainbow for help. She might have been hurting, but she was still Rainbow. She didn’t have some bucked up curse warping her mind. She betrayed me and the pony she once claimed to love more than life itself, and I’m suppose to just let that go? Not a chance.”

“My answer is Rainbow Dash. I blame her.” His eyes narrowed and his voice lowered. “And I’m gonna kill her for it.”

Celestia’s smirk returned. Her horn began to glow. “Now is your chance.”

Torches lit up along the walls, illuminating the parts of the cell that had been shrouded in dark. Gulfstream squinted – more from the light of her horn than the torches – and looked around the room for the first time. His heartrate climbed as he saw four prisoners. Three were chained to the walls, two on his left and one of his right, with their forelegs raised high over their heads. The fourth was chained spread-eagle to a table beyond the bars behind Celestia.

“Fleur, leave us.”

“But I—” Fleur’s words died in her throat as Celestia shot her an ominous frown. “V-very well.” She turned and left the cell, closing the door behind her quietly.

Gulfstream turned a circle, taking in the four prisoners. One was blindfolded. All three of the ones on the wall were gagged. The pony on the table, a pegasus, had no such restrictions. All four squirmed and jerked against their bonds, the two ponies on the left watching the scene with wide eyes.

“Look, Gulfstream.” Celestia pointed to the blindfolded pony.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, he did as he was told. She was about to test him for real, this he knew. He stared at the pony, took in her muffled protests. Why was she here? A criminal, perhaps?

The knife floated past his vision, coated in Celestia’s golden aura. As it moved by, the pony on the wall was transformed before his eyes. The silver coat turned blue. Wings appeared. The mane and tail went from black to a brilliant rainbow of colors.

Rainbow Dash. The pony had become Rainbow Dash.

Now he knew what the test was.

“Take the knife, Gulfstream.”

His heart seized, his hover wobbled. He could hear Lightning’s voice, screaming at him to say no.

But it was Rainbow. She was right there, and at his mercy. It would be so easy…

“Take it. Take it and do what you want.”

His hooves rubbed together. The knife appeared before him again. He was almost desperate to grab it… but equally desperate not to. “L-Lightning… Lightning wouldn’t want…”

Celestia’s voice was like satin in his ear. “Lightning is dead. Rainbow Dash murdered her.”

“M-murdered…” The flame tried to ignite. He could almost see Lightning’s ghost trying to stomp it out. “I’m… I’m good…”

“And is revenge really the sign of a bad pony?” Celestia whispered, her lips tickling his ear. “Don’t you think Lightning would want to be avenged?”

No. No, she wouldn’t. But he wanted it. Rainbow had it coming, didn’t she?

The Lightning in his head turned her face away in shame. His heart broke at the image.

“Look at her, Gulfstream,” Celestia insisted, pointing from over his shoulder. “She took everything from you. She’s always taken everything from you.”

That… that was true.

The fire grew stronger. The Lightning in his head tried to stomp it down.

“She held Lightning's attention, didn’t she?”

“Y-yeah…”

His legs shook. The knife seemed to call to him.

The little Lightning beat frantically at the flame.

The poisonous words continued. “How many nights did Lightning ignore you for her? She is so selfish, right?”

He knew her words were venom. He knew Lightning was begging him to ignore them. But… but they were true, weren’t they?

The flame grew higher. He ground his teeth.

“Even after she abandoned Lightning, leaving her a shattered husk of a pony…”

“Y-yes…”

“…Lightning still fawned over her.”

“Shut up.”

“She only paid attention to you because she needed a substitute.”

“B-be quiet.”

“And you knew it all along, didn’t you?”

His entire body trembled as he began to hyperventilate. He felt like he was going to explode! And there, prostrate before him… Rainbow Dash.

The bitch.

“Rainbow would never let her go.”

Never.

“You would always be…”

Unwanted.

“Unwanted.”

The flame finally hit a breaking point, flashing wild and knocking away all efforts to put it out. The little Lightning in his mind retreated even as Gulfstream shrieked. He grabbed the knife out of the air and felt the comforting coolness of it fan the heat of his mind into an inferno.

He flew forward, his blade glinting in the torchlight like a hungry beast before it was buried in the pony’s chest. Blood leaked from the wound as a muffled scream tore through the cell. Gulfstream relished in it, for it was Rainbow’s, and she deserved it.

He flew back, staring at the hilt of the knife sticking out of the Rainbow’s chest. Blood continued to seep out. She squirmed against her bonds, tears streaming from beneath her blindfold.

“Die,” he whispered. “Die, you bitch. Hurry up and die!”

“It would go faster if you took the knife out.”

He had the knife in his hooves before she finished speaking, jerking it out of Rainbow with a powerful pull. Blood seeped out, spilling down Rainbow’s chest as she twisted in pain. Gulfstream smiled.

He barely acknowledged the Lightning in his head. She’d turned away from him entirely, her disappointment apparent. It didn’t matter. She would understand in time. Rainbow wasn’t worth her tears. Seeing her body fall limp, watching as her breaths grew ragged filled him with an intense pleasure he’d never known before.

“Are you satisfied, Gulfstream?”

He turned to Celestia. She studied him from over her muzzle, her teeth showing in a wicked grin. Stepping aside, she gestured to the two ponies on the other wall.

They were both Rainbow Dash.

“What do you want to do?”

With a snarl, he flew for the two Rainbows. Their eyes went wide and they screamed through their gags. He relished the sounds even as he loathed her selfishness. She had the gall to want to live? After everything she’d done to Lightning?

The knife carved a line into the first Rainbow’s throat. She gagged and sputtered, her chest heaving as she fought to suck in air. He turned to the other, saw the tears streaming from her eyes.

“Don’t cry,” he hissed. “Don’t cry! You don’t have the right!”

The Lightning in his head stood terrified at his inner flame.

The blade jammed into Rainbow’s eye at a high angle, driving down towards her neck. He jerked it out, blood splattering across his face. Her muffled shrieks sent a delightful shiver down his spine. He wanted more.

“Scream, you filthy pony, scream!”

He stabbed, again and again and again.

“She was mine, do you hear me? Mine!”

He pulled back, watching as the remaining eye began to dim. His shoulders heaved, his brain felt like it was on fire and submerged in ice at the same time.

He liked it.

“More.” His turned the bloodstained blade to the other Rainbow, just in time to see her last convulsive trembles before her body fell limp. “No… more!”

He spun about to the Rainbow on the opposite wall. She still bled profusely, but she was breathing. He dove across the room and plunged the knife into her barrel once, twice, three times, screaming with each hit, then stabbed it directly between her eyes. Her skull resisted and the knife got stuck.

The blindfold fell off her face, revealing her wide, crossed eyes as blood trickled between them and around her muzzle.

Then she too went slack against her bonds.

“No, not yet!” He pulled on the knife; it remained stuck. With a snarl, he pressed his hind hooves to her shoulders, wrapped his teeth around the bloodied blade and pulled with all his might. It broke free with a loud crack and he hit the floor, knife clattering to the ground at his side.

His entire body felt heavy. He gazed at the stone ceiling, taking in slow breaths. The elation, the desire, the anger, the fury continued to simmer within, making his head throb with combined fire and ice. In his mind’s eye, Lightning stared down at him, her face pained and disappointed. She didn’t understand.

Maybe she never would.

Clang.

Slowly, he turned his head to the sound. The metal gate to the other half of the room swung wide. There, still lying on the table, was the last Rainbow Dash. She shrank back from his gaze, twisting against her shackles.

He lunged to his hooves, the knife already in his mouth, and galloped for the pony. She screamed and pleaded. Another delightful sound.

He jumped onto the table, straddling her, and watched as she frantically shook her head. Tears streaked down her blue cheeks.

“N-no, please! Why are you doing this? I didn’t do anything!”

The inferno exploded.

As the knife tore into her shoulder, a moment of clarity came upon Gulfstream. The world seemed to move in slow motion as the blade rose up, shifted direction and came down in her other shoulder. Her screams pierced his ear… no, his soul.

In his head, the screams belonged to Lightning. He watched in mute horror as the flames engulfed her, scorching and boiling her beautiful flesh and mane.

A coppery taste came to his tongue. His hooves were sore. He realized he was punching Rainbow’s face with both hooves, over and over and over again. His shriek joined hers, uncontrollable, unintended, wild like an animal.

Terror swept over him. He tried to stop, but his legs moved of their own accord.

Lightning fell, the flames tearing into her as she shrieked and rolled.

He leaned down, bit down on Rainbow’s ear and pulled. He pulled and pulled, taking in her howls and sobbing as Lightning begged for it to end.

Blood spilled into his mouth as a chunk of ear broke loose. He sat up and spit the flesh to the floor. His tears mixed with the blood on his face as he fought against his own hooves. They gripped the knife tightly, jerked it out of her shoulder. It plunged into her leg and twisted, eliciting a frighteningly loud snap.

He begged. Rainbow begged. Lightning begged.

Stop it.

End it.

No more.

He was good.

This wasn’t him.

Lightning… he was killing Lightning!

Why couldn’t he stop?

His hooves pressed down on Rainbow’s throat. He had to end it now, before Lightning burned to death.

“Die. Die. Die. Die!”

Rainbow killed her. He was killing her. He was killing who?

He thought his ears would bleed from the volume of the shrieks.

“Hate you. Hate you! Hate you!”

Rainbow’s squirming slowed.

Lightning began to convulse in the flames.

“No!” He pressed down even harder. “Not again! You can’t do this! Die, you stupid bucking bitch!”

Lightning, her body black and blistered, flames still dancing across her form, stared at him with wide, disbelieving eyes.

“No no no no no!” He began thrusting against the throat. “Why. Won’t. You. Bucking. Die?!”

Snap.

Eyes went wide. Gulfstream’s heart shattered, transformed into tiny needles and pierced every part of his body. His head throbbed with the intensity of the flames.

Lightning went still.

The world went quiet.

He sat there, hooves still on her throat, mind blank, shoulders heaving with his heavy breaths. Tears blurred his vision. He blinked them away, unwilling to move his heavy hooves.

Green. Amber.

The fragments of his heart turned to ice as he stared down at the corpse. It wasn’t Rainbow.

“N-no.” The word came out as a faint whisper. His shaking hooves reached up to brush the mane away from the face.

Lightning’s face.

He fell off the table like a rock, hitting the stone floor on his shoulder. The pain hardly registered. He could only stare ahead, at the corner, at that bar, at the dirt. At anything that wasn’t… her.

He killed Lightning.

“I k-killed…”

He closed his eyes tightly, seeking her out in his head. Where was she? His guidance, his heart, his anchor?

She was nowhere to be found.

He curled into a ball and sobbed.

Laughter filled his ears.









Humming.

Somepony was humming.

Gulfstream stirred. He was nestled against a warm body. He snuggled against it, trying not to think about the terrible dreams. Somepony nuzzled him.

The humming continued. It sounded nice.

He lay there for some time, still feeling the urge to cry. Though he made no attempt to fight it, the tears wouldn’t come. He felt so… exhausted. Would it be too much to ask to fall back to sleep?

No. Sleeping brought dreams. Dreams brought Lightning.

He didn’t want to see her and her cold, angry eyes. Watching her walk away from him was the worst thing imaginable.

No… watching her burn was worse.

Another nuzzle, gentle and pleasant. He pressed against it. Were he a cat, he might have purred.

Though he feared what might confront him, he forced his eyes to open. He was curled beside a pink mare. A large one. Slowly, he forced his head up.

Fleur offered a sad smile. She didn’t stop humming.

They were still in that cell.

He jumped to his hooves with a yelp, head swiveling around to take in his surroundings. Rainbow Dash still hung from the walls. His heart pounded in his throat, he opened his mouth to scream—

Fleur caught his face before he could properly begin. She turned his head so that he was looking at Rainbow’s limp form.

“Look, Gulfstream! It’s not her!”

He gasped; indeed, it wasn’t Rainbow. It was a unicorn with a sawed off horn, his body covered in dried blood.

“B-but…” He turned to look at the other two hanging bodies. Neither was Rainbow Dash. “But I saw her. I killed her. I… I…”

Dreading what he might see, he turned to the back room. The table remained… with the corpse of a purple pegasus.

No Rainbow.

No Lightning.

“It was an illusion, Gulfstream,” Fleur said, slowly pulling him back to her side. She carefully forced him back to his barrel before nuzzling him. “Only an illusion. She was messing with your head.”

He buried his face in her mane and sobbed, even though tears still wouldn’t come. “I st-still did it. I murdered Lightning. I murdered my own cousin!”

She shushed him, one hoof pressed to his back and her neck curled over his withers. “It’s okay. It’s okay, Gulfstream. It wasn’t real.”

“But it felt real!”

“I know. I know it did. It’s alright, Gulfstream. You didn’t kill Lightning.”

“She’ll never forgive me,” he whispered, clinging tightly to her neck. “I… A-after what I just did, sh-she’s going to hate me!”

“Lightning could never hate you, Gulfstream.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry!”

“You’re a good pony. I promise.”

“No I’m not! I’m evil, mean, brutal, angry! I’ll never be the pony Lightning wanted me to be, not now and not ever!”

She caught him by the shoulders and held him away so that she could look him in the eyes. “Listen to me, Gulfstream Dust: this is all Celestia’s fault. She manipulated you, pushed you into your worst nature. But that doesn’t have to be you. Lightning trusted you to be a good pony. Are you going to betray that trust now? Or are you going to rise above it and prove to her that you’re better than Celestia?”

“I… I…” He hiccuped a few times, but the urge to cry was going down. He closed his eyes and tried to see Lightning. She didn’t appear in his mind’s eye. She was nowhere to be found.

His heart lay in a sloppy mess at his hooves.

“Let me help you, Gulfstream. You will overcome the darkness inside of you.”

His looked into her eyes. There he saw hope, eagerness… determination. They reminded him of Lightning.

He sniffed and rubbed his nose. “Do you… do you really think I have a chance? Why would you help me?”

Fleur’s sad smile returned. “Because somepony taught me that the greatest joy and pleasure in life is in helping others and watching them grow. Because you don’t deserve to be toyed with. Because you got caught in the crossfire of what the gods think of as nothing more than a game, and it’s not right.”

She sat up, looming tall over him. Her smile broadened. “And yes, Gulfstream, I do think you have a chance.” She offered her hoof. “Will you join us, and let me help you?”

He stared at the hoof, mind too blank with misery to process exactly what she was offering.

Then it hit him. “Wait… you mean I passed the test?”

Fleur’s smile became strained. “ ‘Passed’ is a strong word. It’s more like you… satisfied her interests. But either way—” she moved her hoof a little closer, “—the offer is open. You can join us and become an Archon. I will train you. Hopefully, with us working together, you can become a pony Lightning would be proud of.”

Lightning.

He close his eyes and thought of her. He still couldn’t see her.

If this gave him his chance…

“I can’t do this alone.” He reached out with a trembling hoof, taking hers. He slipped closer and pressed his forehead to it, fighting back a fresh sob.

“P-please… help me be good again.”
	
> Intermission III — Between a Moon and a Nightmare
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------




I saw her today. Celestia.

She told me what happened in the Everfree. I didn’t press her, she looked mad. It’s never wise to talk to Celestia when she’s mad.

Uncle Fine, why didn’t you tell me? I knew they'd be re-merged, but I thought their minds would remain separate. You didn’t tell me that the Elements would kill her. Do you have any idea what that means to me?

Of course you don’t. How could you? You aren’t like me, no matter what you might say.

I want to be angry. I wish I could be, but all I feel is a big hole in my heart. I didn’t realize how important it was to have somepony like her around. We arewere both freaks, but together we

at least she was I don’t

I already miss her. She was bad, I know that, but damn it all to Tartarus, she was my friend!

I’m glad I’m done with this book. I don’t want to look at it anymore. I didn’t want to remember any of the things I wrote about. I don’t want to think about this.

Please. Please, tell me I’ll see her eyes in my dreams.

—Gulfstream Dust, Book of Shadows XLVIII,
June 7, 1007








February 9, C.Y. 1005
Canterlot


Crunch.

Crunch.

Crunch.

Gulfstream’s forehooves pounded against the sand in a steady rhythm, each blow stinging. He’d been at it for nearly an hour now, reared on his hind legs and delivering punch after punch, refusing to lighten up. Held up by a faint glow of pink magic, the sand barely shifted from each successive hit. Its resistance didn’t bother him. If anything, the consistency and soreness kept him focused and calm.

This had been the first thing Miss de Lis had done for him. A small ruby sat a couple feet behind the floating sand, a magical battery that kept the levitation spell going even when his new ‘teacher’ wasn’t around. The idea had been to give him something against which he could vent his frustration. Why not use a bucking bag? Apparently, because she wanted to practice her enchanting and gemcraft, both of which appeared to be specialties for her.

His currently assigned task had nothing to do with this. In the room down the hall sat a small fountain that constantly dripped water into a pool. He was supposed to be there, doing some sort of ‘speed training.’ It only frustrated him; he was already a fast flier, so that should mean he’d be a fast attacker too. Sure, he could put neither hoof nor wing through the water stream without getting wet, but that didn’t mean anything. It only pissed him off.

Which was why he’d come here.

Crunch.

Crunch.

Crunch.

Three days, he’d been an Archon. For three days, he’d done everything she had asked. And he would continue to do so. He liked Miss de Lis. She was pleasant to be around. She’d stayed with him these past few nights, reassuring him when his nightmares woke him in a cold sweat. Her patience reminded him of Lightning’s. Yesterday, she’d suggested they spar, to ‘test his current fighting ability.’

He’d learned the hard way that she only looked like a dainty flower. Lightning would have been impressed.

Crunch.

Crunch.

Crunch.

He didn’t want to think about Lightning.

Crunch.

Crunch.

Crunch.

Not thinking about Lightning led him into thinking about Rainbow.

He didn’t like thinking about her, either.

Crunch.

Crunch.

Crunch.

He was thinking about them. The blood in the clouds. The horror in Rainbow’s eyes. The pain and confusion in Lightning’s gaze. The feel of the knife pushing through soft flesh.

Crunch.

Crunch.

Crunch.

His teeth ground together, his hooves digging deeper into the sand. Of all the things he never wanted to see again, it was that knife. He wouldn’t ask Miss de Lis what happened to it, no matter how badly it tempted him. He didn’t think she’d tell him, regardless.

Crunch.

Crunch.

Crunch.

He still saw Lightning in his sleep. Sometimes, when he closed his eyes, he would see her on that table, bleeding, her breath coming out in feeble rasps.

An illusion.

Crunch.

Crunch.

Crunch.

It had felt so real.

Crunch.

Crunch.

Crunch.

Crunch.

Crunch.

Crunch.

“I think that’s enough.”

Gulfstream’s hoof struck one last time. He let it sit in the sand, relishing the bite of the grains against his sore skin. His breaths came in shallow, sharp gasps. His wings were extended. The fire danced, not quite strong enough to be a threat, but most certainly there.

A hoof, attached to a mottled brown leg, settled upon his elbow. “Relax. There’s no need for such tension.”

He fought valiantly against the urge to lash out. With a grunt, he jerked his leg away and stomped for the gem behind the bag. When he set his hoof on it the sand dropped into a neat pile on the floor.

Fine Crime spoke in a calm voice. “You didn’t have to stop.”

Gulfstream snorted and turned to glare at the stallion. “But now you’re going to tell Miss de Lis I wasn’t doing what she told me to.”

The stallion raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t know about that. Until now.”

Realizing his mistake, Gulfstream slapped a hoof over his eyes. “I’m an idiot.”

“You said it, not me.” Fine said. “How do you feel about being an Archon so far?”

“Is this some kind of test?”

“Nope.”

He studied his ‘boss’ with a peering gaze, banging his hooves together for the sake of the pain the act produced. “I’ll get used to it.”

Fine turned his head to stare at him with a lone eye. “Do you feel like you’re taking a step in the right direction?”

The fire wanted to grow. With a grimace, Gulfstream pushed it back down. “How should I know? I only just started.”

“Hmm.” Fine continued to observe him for some time. His gaze unnerved Gulfstream, who kept his attention on grappling with his anger. This was the first time he’d met the Mane Archon outside of that encounter a few days ago, and he had to make at least an attempt at a good impression.

But damn, if he didn’t want to whack the guy! If only to get those piercing eyes off of him.

Recalling that this was Miss de Lis’ boss – and by extension, his own – Gulfstream worked to keep some civility in his tone. “Did you come here to just stare at me?”

Smooth.

“I came to ascertain some facts,” Fine replied, apparently willing to ignore his flippant nature. “Fleur is going to be busy for the rest of the day, and this gives me the chance to… ‘meet’ you.”

“Well, great! We’ve met. I have work to do.”

Fine watched him approach the door. No emotion could be interpreted from his frown, which only served to unnerve Gulfstream even more. But not as much as the door when it refused to open for him. He tugged at it a few times, then noticed the red aura on the handle.

“You’re a very angry pony.”

His body low and his ears folded back, Gulfstream turned sideways to glare at him. “I don’t want to talk about that.”

“I don’t care.” Fine sat, his body relaxed but his eyes cold. “You’ve been invited into something far bigger than you know, and I’m going to determine whether you deserve it.”

Gulfstream didn’t know why he felt so threatened by the Mane Archon, but he kept his side pressed to the door and his legs braced for motion. “Celestia said so. Miss de Lis said so. Isn’t that enough? And you just said this wasn’t a test.”

“Celestia tested you,” Fine said. “She accepted you because you’re wounded and angry and might amuse her. I am the Mane Archon, and I test you for different reasons.” He raised his head and gestured to the spot before him. “Sit. Talk.”

“Seems like a test to me,” Gulfstream grumbled, but after a few seconds hesitation he did as he was told. Sitting before Fine, he kept his head low and his scowl firm. “Now what do you wanna talk about? Make it quick, I’m supposed to be doing the thing with the water.”

“ ‘The thing with the water.’ Charming.” Fine’s hard manner broke to a chuckle. “It took Fleur two years to master that one.”

“T-two years?” Gulfstream hated how squeaky his voice just sounded.

Fine’s brief smile fled in the face of renewed stoicness. “And now she strikes faster than most ponies can think. I hear you’ve already learned that lesson.”

Gulfstream winced, thoughtlessly reaching up to rub his shoulder. The ache was long gone, but not forgotten. “Yeah…” Suddenly, the water exercise didn’t seem so stupid.

They were both quiet. Gulfstream was too busy wondering if he had the patience to master the water exercise to consider what he would say next.

So Fine beat him to it. “Did you know there are two types of Archon?”

He blinked. “Miss de Lis mentioned it, but didn’t go into detail. What about it?”

“Do you know what the difference is?”

Gulfstream’s shoulders slumped and he looked away. “Are you gonna keep asking a bunch of dumb questions? I just said she didn’t go into detail.”

“Then allow me to…” Fine waved his hoof in the air as he thought of the appropriate word. “ ‘Enlighten’ you. Did Fleur at least mention what most Archons have to do to get in?”

“Some of it. I asked.” Gulfstream realized that Fine wanted him to elaborate. With a tired sigh, he recited what he knew. “Every Archon is hoof-picked. They are watched in secret for a while to make sure they deserve the job.”

“Some go for over a decade before a decision is made,” Fine added.

Gulfstream’s eyes widened slightly, but decided not to respond to that new bit of info. “Those who get accepted get trained. That’s about it.”

Fine cocked his head, though his expression remained neutral. “That’s not quite everything, but not bad for beginner’s knowledge. For an Archon, it’s a job. They are paid – handsomely – they sign a contract and they eventually retire, assuming the job doesn’t kill them. Now, tell me, Gulfstream…

“What didn’t you have to do?”

Another annoying question. Gulfstream clamped his jaw to keep the anger from rising up unbidden. Instead, he focused on his answer. After some consideration, he found one. “I didn’t sign a contract.”

“Exactly.” Fine gave a curt nod. “I trust you’re aware of what that suggests.”

Indeed, he was. Gulfstream stared at his hooves, but with this new topic his anger had faded. Now only curiosity filled him.

The Mane Archon leaned forward. “We are called the Order of Shadows.”

Gulfstream shrank back, but he couldn’t be certain why. Fine’s manner wasn’t aggressive, and yet he seemed to loom in the colt’s mind.

Fine gave him no chance to think of a response. “For Archons, this is a job. But the Order? We have reasons to be here. We’ve all wallowed through the muck and found within ourselves a purpose, a goal, a powerful motivation that keeps us going.”

There it was: an intensity to his gaze. Yet this wasn’t like the harsh look of Nightmare Moon, or the ferocity of his cousin when she was mad. This was something wholly different. The taught frown, a small spot of his lip raised up, the tiniest twitch of the muzzle, the furrowed brow.

And the eyes. Fine’s rosewood irises bored into Gulfstream’s own, making him feel small and weak. His anger tried to rise up against that gaze, only to be crushed under its viciousness. He was gasping for air, his heart hammering in his chest, and he couldn’t help but scream in his own mind, why?

Hate. The Mane Archon’s expression was hatred in its most condensed, piercing form. This begged the only question that Gulfstream was able to force out.

“W-what’s yours?”

Fine replied before the second word ended. “I am going to kill Celestia.”

Where his heart had been abusing his ribcage, now it seemed frozen. Gulfstream shrank a little further back, his barrel touching the hard stone floor. “B-but you work for her. She’s y-your… sh-she’s the—”

“She’s an abomination that needs to be put down.” Fine’s words were little more than a hiss, coming out of gritted teeth. “Her work, her aspirations, her control. I will see it all crushed. I will shove her pretty white face in the sh… sh-sh…”

His face twisted with effort, strange sounds and growls rising from his throat. Gulfstream scooted back even more at the strange sight.

“Sh-sh-sh… Shit!”

The tension faded from Fine’s body and he sagged nearly to the floor. He even had a few drops of sweat on his forehead. When he next spoke, his voice was calmer. “I hate that she did that to me.”

Though still cautious, Gulfstream couldn’t resist the query. “So… um… enchantment?”

“You have no idea.” Fine sucked down a deep breath and sat up. A leg ran over his black mane and, in an instant, he was back to his calm and collected manner. “So what’s your motivation?”

“My motivation?” It took Gulfstream a couple seconds to recall the original subject of the conversation. “Oh! To get revenge for Lightning.”

Fine’s eyebrow raised.

Gulfstream sagged and averted his gaze, but there was no anger in his tone. “A-and… To be a better pony.”

“And what, exactly, defines ‘better?’ ”

Another pause to consider the answer. Gulfstream thought that his response would be so very simple in comparison to how the idea felt. It wasn’t something easily conveyed in words. “ ‘Better’ means… not being angry all the time. It means I act normal. It means…” He latched on to a perfect explanation. “It means doing the right thing without having to think about whether Lightning would have approved.”

A smile came to Fine. To Gulfstream’s mild surprise, he thought it was genuine. “That’s a good answer.”

“It is.” Gulfstream smiled back, but it didn’t last. He turned away from Fine to stare at the overcast sky outside the window. “It’s going to be hard without her. I don’t know w-what to do.”

Damn it, his vision was blurring again. He rubbed his eyes and tried to redirect his thoughts. Of all the ponies to cry in front of!

A hoof touched his shoulder. He flung himself from it as if it were made of burning coals, casting a seething glare at Fine. The fire held him for only a second before it dimmed and he was staring at his hooves again. “S-sorry, I didn’t… I mean…”

Fine heaved a long sigh and shifted a little closer. “You’re not the only one battling demons, Gulfstream Dust.”

He huffed. “Yours aren’t a bad as mine.”

“Ever raped anypony?”

His ears perked. Once he realized what he’d heard, his breath caught.

“Or maybe you murdered a filly’s entire family, only to take her on later as your apprentice.”

He looked up with wide eyes.

Fine had a small, sad smile, but his gaze met Gulfstream’s evenly. “Or perhaps you orchestrated the razing of an entire city, burning it to ashes and ensuring that tens of thousands died in the fighting.”

Gulfstream swallowed.

The Mane Archon’s eyes closed. His voice fell to a whisper. “Or, if you really want to be a bastard, you can take an adorable, innocent, beautiful filly. You can tell her that everything’s going to be okay, comfort her at night, open up to her. Then you can deliver her to a demon and watch as she is turned into a bloodthirsty maniac. If you do that, then maybe we can be considered monsters on equal terms. But until then?”

His eyes opened, revealing barely contained tears. “Until then, you’re nothing more than a colt with a grudge.”

Gulfstream gazed at the stallion before him, his breath stuck in his throat. He wished he could refute the things Fine had told him. It all seemed like far too much for any one pony. But somehow, he didn’t think he’d heard a single lie. He bowed his head in shameful deference.

“I’ll j-just shut up now.”

Fine pushed his chin up. His smile had grown, oddly enough. “Your anger is justified, Gulfstream. Your pain is nothing small. It’s the very reason I didn’t object to Fleur’s desire to take you on as an apprentice. But…”

He sat back, his smile fading but his expression still soft. “The key to being a member of the Order is channeling that rage in the proper direction. In your case, I think that’s going to be a severe challenge.”

The implications settled upon Gulfstream like lead weights. “So, you’re saying that if I can’t aim my anger properly, I have no place here?”

“Something like that. This is the challenge you face. Are you willing to try?”

Gulfstream didn’t need to think on his response. “Yes! For Lightning’s memory, I want to.”

Fine observed him, head cocking one way, then another. His eyes shifted to the window. At last, he nodded. “If you’re serious about that, then I want you to meet me later, about an hour before sunset.”

Hesitating, Gulfstream followed his gaze to the window. He couldn’t see the sun, but he guessed they had another four or five hours of sunlight left. “Are you going to test me?”

The reply came in a swift, crisp, “Yes.”

“And if I pass… I join the Order?”

“Eh…” Fine rubbed the back of his neck with a frown. “No. You’re only an apprentice until Fleur decides you are ready. But if you pass, then the door will be open to you.”

Gulfstream shot him an uncertain look. “But you’re her boss. If she says I’m ready, what if you disagree?”

“You are her apprentice,” Fine replied with firmness. “It will be entirely up to her when you are ready to move beyond that role.”

His face softened yet again. His hoof settled upon Gulfstream’s shoulder. “Understand this, Gulfstream: as much as she is training you, you are a trial for her. Fleur has never had anypony to be responsible for… at least, not as she will be responsible for you. It is as important to her as it is to me.”

Those words weighed heavy on Gulfstream’s mind. A steady realization came to him.

Fine turned for the door. “Well, I leave you to your training. If you are serious about joining the Order, you will meet me in the lower amphitheater of the Nocturnal Wing this evening. It shouldn’t be hard to find.”

Gulfstream watched him go, a strange feeling in his chest, like something held him tightly. “Mr. Crime?”

The stallion appeared to trip, his head nearly hitting the floor. With an exasperated sigh, he called back, “Just Fine, please. What was I thinking when I picked that name?”

Another bout of hesitation. Was it really his place to ask?

“Miss de Lis. She was your apprentice, right?”

Fine looked back over his shoulder, confusion set upon his features. “What of it?”

He raised a leg in an anxious display. “She’s… important to you?”

The Mane Archon – self-proclaimed monster, the second most powerful pony in the world, the pony whose title struck terror into the hearts of millions – turned away from Gulfstream with a jerk that failed to conceal his widening eyes. His body stood stiff, his tail flicked a few times. Gulfstream backed away, fearing he’d asked the wrong question.

But when Fine at last spoke, his tone was warm.

“Someday, my Little Miss will be called on to replace me. The requirements for that are… brutal.” He looked over his shoulder again. He smiled. Not a deceptive or wicked smile, but a kind and hopeful one. “I will make sure she never has to face the challenges I did. My job is to protect her just as much as it is to protect Equestria. Fleur de Lis? I look upon her as one does a precious baby sister.”

He faced forward, took a deep breathe, and made for the door.

“But please don’t tell her I admitted it.”

The door closed.

Gulfstream could only sit there and think.





Finding the Nocturnal Wing was easy. Finding the amphitheater beneath it? Not so much. Gulfstream wound his way through many halls, struggling to recall the directions Miss de Lis had grudgingly given him. Apparently, she’d not been made aware of whatever was about to happen. When he’d suggested she come, she refused; “Fine did not tell me about it, so I’m either not invited or not supposed to know about it at all.”

That revelation did not comfort the colt.

Gulfstream’s anger had already grown to such heights that he suspected he would hit the very first pony he came across. He prayed it would not be Celestia. Fine Crime, on the other hoof…

The Nocturnal Wing was true to its namesake. All the windows had been covered by blue curtains that blocked all sunlight, and the torches on the walls did little to illuminate the dark blue marble that made up the place. He encountered not a single soul within the shadowed hallways. The silence and dust gave him the disturbing impression of being within a tomb, not unlike the dungeon he’d been in a few days ago.

Yet this place was worse than that dungeon. At least there he saw signs of life, even if those signs came in the form of shrieks. Here there was nothing; not a face in the dark, not a voice in the silence. The only thing that accompanied him in these still halls was the sound of his breathing and the steady clop, clop, clop of his own hooffalls.

He came to the end of a hallway before a closed door. Doubting himself, he knocked a few times on the thick wood. The sound echoed down the hall, making his ears fold back, and dust fell from the cracks of the door. Caught between mounting frustration and worry, he pushed the door open with a shriek of ancient hinges. Nothing. Shadows shrouded the room beyond, offering him only the shaded shapes of stored and long-forgotten furniture. Growling to avoid a whimper, he turned away.

And bumped right into Fine Crime. With a cry that rattled his own eardrums, Gulfstream leapt and brought his hind leg up in a rapid vertical kick.

Fine blocked with his cannon and parried, spinning Gulfstream so he faced the wall, then placed a hoof on the colt’s back, forcing him firmly but gently back to a standing position.

“Nice to see you too.”

Gulfstream took a moment to breathe, reviewing the quick motions in his head. Instead of his anger bursting forth, a thrill ran through him. Wings spreading, he turned his head to Fine and grinned. “That was awesome! How’d you do that?”

Fine returned the smile. “Lots – and lots – of practice.” The smile faded. “You ready for this test?”

Oh, right. The test. “Yeah,” he managed to reply, though his voice lacked any confidence. “I just, uh, got lost.”

“That is not surprising.” Fine gestured for him to follow before walking down the hall. “Only two ponies lives in this part of the castle, and very few bother to pay them any visits. This place is a mystery to the vast majority of the castle staff.”

Gulfstream hurried to catch up. “So who lives here?”

“Princess Luna, of course.”

Oh. That did seem pretty obvious, all things considered. “Wait, you said there were two living here. Who’s the other pony?”

“Her personal attendant. Guy named Stone. Decent sort, far better than most.” The corner of Fine’s lip turned up in a grim smile. “Doesn’t much care for me, though.”

Gulfstream didn’t bother to store that bit of information; his only interest was the princess. He realized that he’d not seen feather not tail of her in the days since he’d come to stay at the castle. Did she prefer to stay hidden here?

A new thought occurred to Gulfstream as Fine led him down a long spiral staircase. “Wait, so are we going to see Princess Luna? Or… Nightmare Moon?”

It took Fine a few seconds to answer. “Celestia has granted us the opportunity to witness something not done in over a thousand years. She chose to make it happen down here.”

Gulfstream felt bile rising in the back of his throat. So, he would have to do something for that witch again. The idea didn’t sit well with him, but he kept his hooves moving as they descended deeper and deeper into the castle. The memory of being in that cell, of what he did to the false Rainbow Dashes…

And to Lightning. That image was still thoroughly burned into the back of his eyelids. He gave an involuntary shudder and tried to remember that it was only an illusion. Curiously, the phrase came to him in Miss de Lis’ voice.

After what seemed like ages, they exited the stairs and walked along a hallway even darker than any Gulfstream had encountered so far. No doubt this had to do with the lack of windows. Were they underground, or just far within the castle?

“Gulfstream.”

Fine’s tone was hard again. Somehow, it reminded him of Lightning when she was cross with him. That thought was more than enough to make him pay close attention to Fine’s next statement.

“Celestia will want these events to be a secret. Tell nopony about what we are about to see. If you do, Celestia will have you killed.”

Gulfstream’s eyes became as broad as saucers. “You’re joking.”

There it was, that cold stare that chilled his heart. Fine’s voice grew quiet. Shouting would have been preferred. “No. She’s had ponies killed for far less. If you have any doubt about your ability to keep this a secret, turn around now.”

Anger tried to rise up within Gulfstream as he paused. He held it back… but couldn’t keep the heat from his voice. “Why didn’t you warn me about this before?”

Fine didn’t bother to wait for him, nor did he look back. “The life of an Archon is dangerous. You accept that when you accept the job. I shouldn’t have to warn you that your life could be put on the line at any time. If Fleur failed to mention that to you, take it up with her.”

She’d mentioned it. Gulfstream simply hadn’t taken that to mean he was in danger already, not even three days into his training. He resumed his trot and fell in step with Fine. “I won’t tell anypony.”

“See that you don’t.”

Several minutes passed as they traversed the dark hallways. They seemed more and more like underground tunnels by this point, even though the dark marble walls never changed design. Gulfstream was just beginning to question if they would ever arrive when Fine stopped them before an unremarkable stone door. A cursory glance down both directions revealed nothing to differentiate this door from any of the others.

Still, Fine did not enter. His eyes had narrowed and his ears were aimed forward. A dim red light shone from his horn.

Then he nodded and looked to Gulfstream from the corner of his eye. “It’s almost time. If you must speak, keep your voice down. Do not interrupt Celestia in her work, nor Luna. Speak to them only if spoken to, at least until Celestia leaves.”

Gulfstream examined the door, then Fine. “And what’s the test?”

“If I told you that, it wouldn’t be much of a test. Are you ready?”

He took a deep breath, then exhaled with equal slowness. He didn’t feel any more prepared, but then, he wasn’t sure anything could prepare him for another meeting with Celestia. Still, he sucked down his anxiety and gave a firm nod. “Ready.”

Fine’s eye remained set upon him for a few more seconds. Finally, he set his attention forward and pushed open the door.

The room took on the shape of a shallow bowl, with tall steps acting as seating space. A set of more regular stairs descended in front of Gulfstream, leading down into a plain circle at the center of the room. The walls, crafted of common stone rather than marble, arose into a dome. At the apex was an inlaid gem that may have been a diamond, which shined brightly to act as illumination for the amphitheater. All in all, the whole place seemed painfully drab.

Except that there, sitting in the circle in the middle of the room, was Princess Luna. Or was it Nightmare Moon? No… it was Luna. Even in the dim light, he could see the black around her cutie mark. He opened his mouth, but remembered just in time Fine’s warning and closed it with a click of teeth. He noted Fine sitting in the highest row, and so moved to join him.

The princess did not acknowledge their presence. As Gulfstream leaned forward to study her, he saw that her head was bowed. Her wings had opened forward, not enough to cover her head, but far enough forward that, at this angle, he couldn’t see it. He knew that pose well. What could she have done that would make her feel so shameful?

In that moment, Gulfstream recalled how much he liked Luna. It struck him as odd, especially considering how he only really met her once, and she’d been partially responsible for Lightning’s death. But then, it never felt like her fault to him. Maybe it was because she seemed peripheral to the entire situation.

Whatever the case, he didn’t like seeing her in such a pose. His ire rose in his mind, fanned by speculation and a strange defensive view of the princess. He realized that he wanted to find the pony responsible for her apparent malaise and teach them a lesson.

He continued to brood for some time, his anger steadily rising as nothing happened. Ever shifting, he glanced to Fine. The Mane Archon remained stock still, his brow furrowed and his gaze set on Luna. Gulfstream envied his patience.

A door, opposite the one they’d entered from, opened. Celestia appeared, her expression solemn as she marched into the amphitheater. She glanced towards Fine and Gulfstream, but that was all the attention they warranted. The disinterest frustrated Gulfstream, but he would not speak. Even ignoring his orders, he wanted little to do with her after what she’d made him do in that dungeon.

Celestia’s voice rang out, firm and authoritative, as the door closed. “Luna, Nightmare Moon. I give you one last chance to reconsider your request.”

Luna didn’t raise her head, nor did she move her wings. As such, her face remained unseen to Gulfstream, but the frail manner of her voice gripped his heart. “Sister, I will not. This must be done.”

Celestia stood regally before her, appearing a giant to the Luna’s small stature. “And you, Nightmare?”

Luna’s head rose, her wings folding back. The shaking of her body lessened and her expression became a match to Celestia’s firmness. Only the tearstains betrayed the emotions she’d felt mere seconds ago.

“I will not object.”

“Then you will submit.” No smile adorned Celestia’s face. “You will bow, and you will beg. Make it known to me, and to these witnesses, who has defeated you.”

Luna hesitated, her eyes shifting to Gulfstream and Fine for the first time. Then she turned her attention back to her sister and lowered her head. “Will you spare them, sister? Those who have fallen to our failures?”

A pearly wing whipped out, slapping across Luna’s muzzle with enough force to turn her head. The sound alone made Gulfstream wince.

“You are already asking much from me, sister,” Celestia hissed. “Should you wish for this to happen, you will not so much as consider asking for more. Do as you are told.”

At first, Luna let her head remain where it had shifted to from the blow. Her lips pursed and her cheeks puffed out as she took in a deep breath, then another. Her eyes remained downcast. Gulfstream couldn’t explain why, but he silently begged for the princess to strike back, or shout, or any of a hundred things.

She did none of those. Gradually, as if she’d been hit with a spell of sluggishness, she turned to Celestia. Gulfstream gaped, heart heavy as she lowered to sit, then settled to the floor. Her wings opened wide and limp to take up almost the entire circle. Her head bowed until her muzzle pressed against the ground. Her horn touched the stones at Celestia’s hooves.

She was crying again. Gulfstream looked to Fine, hoping the stallion would do something, but the Mane Archon remained as rigid as ever.

A new feeling rose within Gulfstream, something very different from his usual anger. This was something reserved for ponies like Rainbow Dash, who warranted far more than mere frustration. This emotion was hatred, and it was aimed directly at Celestia.

Yet, even as he bathed in his own ferocious energy, Gulfstream didn’t understand it.

“Celestia,” Luna spoke, her voice submissive, “you are the supreme ruler of Equestria. I s-submit myself before you, I implore you. Please undo the damage that has been done.”

For the first time since arriving, Celestia smiled. It was a cold, wretched thing. “Do you accept your defeat, and surrender to my might?”

A deep, shuddering breath. “Yes. I, Luna, surrender my will to you, the greatest ruler of all. Against your might I offer no challenge.”

Celestia’s head rose, regal and commanding. “You will obey.”

“I w-will obey.”

“You will submit.”

“I will submit.”

A gold-shod hoof stomped, dangerously close to Luna’s muzzle. The sound echoed in Gulfstream’s folded ears like a thunderclap. Revulsion filled him as, hesitantly, the Princess of the Night leaned forward to kiss the hoof.

Seconds passed in silence. Luna kept her eyes to the floor, and Celestia continued to stare down her muzzle at her. Gulfstream trembled with combined anger and disgust, frustrated with himself for being unable to do anything about this demeaning scene.

Then he looked to Fine once more, and couldn’t help backing away. Though the changes were minute, they were very real. The furrowed brow, the hardness of his eyes, the way his lip twitched. This was that same gaze he’d used before. The knowledge that he wasn’t alone in his anger proved no comfort; Gulfstream took a few more steps away.

Celestia’s words, quiet but strong, floated to his ears. “I accept your failure, your inferiority, and your subservience. I shall grant that which you desire.”

By the time Gulfstream turned back to the scene, a light shined from Celestia’s horn, so bright it obscured his vision. He looked away and shielded his eyes with a wing, but even then the world was uncomfortably brilliant.

Then, as soon as it came, the light vanished. Everything seemed dark as his eyes began to adjust.

His jaw dropped the moment his eyes returned to the inner circle: where Luna had once been bowed before Celestia, now there were two of her. No, that wasn’t exactly right; the new pony was darker, her cutie mark a dark shade of violet.

Nightmare Moon.

Gulfstream rubbed his eyes and looked again, but they weren’t fooling him: Nightmare Moon and Princess Luna were now two different ponies.

Celestia offered a comforting smile to Luna. “How do you feel?”

Luna’s head rose with a jerk, her pupils small. She began to tremble, mildly at first, but then with increasing frequency. Her lost expression broke into one of combined horror and despair. At last, as if a dam had been broken within her, she sobbed, a pitiful weeping so wretched they felt like daggers piercing Gulfstream’s heart. Her head fell to the floor and was buried beneath her cannons and wings as she howled.

Nightmare Moon jumped back from her, head whipping around as if she were taking in the room for the very first time. Her eyes settled upon Gulfstream for only an instant, but it was long enough to send a delightful shiver down his spine. Oh, he remembered those eyes so very well!

Her attention landed upon Celestia, and she gave a fanged grin. “At last! This is…” She sat and examined her forelegs one at a time, wonder in her expression. “This is amazing. It’s as if the shackles have finally come off. My mind has never been so clear!”

Celestia smile didn’t waver. “I take it you’re happy?”

“Am I!” The Bringer of Eternal Night pranced in place, as if to test her legs. “There’s so much I want to do, and now I don’t have to have that insufferable foal nagging my every thought. I’m free of her, and it is the greatest blessing imaginable!” She gave a flap of her wings, the resultant wind buffeting Gulfstream.

“I am waiting for the ‘thank you.’ ”

Nightmare Moon blinked, then scowled, her wings snapping back into place at her sides. “Of course, you actually expect me to serve you.” She pointed a hoof at Luna, whose weeping hadn’t faded. Only now did Gulfstream notice the shield around her, presumably intended to deaden her voice. “I am not such a pushover as this wretch.”

Celestia’s smile broadened. “And yet you are already at my beck and call.”

Hesitation came over Nightmare’s features, but only for a moment. “I am free at last. I won’t lose that by being your slave.”

“You already are.” Celestia took a step closer, prompting Nightmare to retreat. “For starters, you will take over the moon… for now.”

Surprise, pleasure, then frustration ran across Nightmare’s face in rapid succession. “I… I will not take it just because you tell me to! I am not your beast of burden. If you want—”

Zap!

Gulfstream winced as Nightmare slammed into the wall of the amphitheater, her body smoking from the impact of a golden orb. Celestia's brilliant aura jerked her down and dragged her roughly along the hard stone stairs. Once at the bottom, she was lifted by her throat and slammed back-first against the wall of the lowest row of benches. There she lay, belly up and legs sprawled, the golden aura pinning her neck up. She appeared as a marionette with the strings cut.

“Go ahead,” Celestia said, completely relaxed even as her horn shined. “Attack me. Show me your defiance.”

Nightmare clutched at her throat, breathing in gasps through her clenched fangs. Her eyes were venomous, but gradually the fire went out of them and she sagged.

Celestia’s smile never wavered. “As I thought. You might be stronger than Luna, but you are both little more than children compared to me.” She turned her head to her audience with a smirk. “I hope you’re taking notes, Fine.”

Fine’s heartstopping glare hadn’t eased at all since last Gulfstream had observed it. If anything, he appeared even more ferocious. Gulfstream had the distinct impression that he was caught in the middle of a war he never wanted to be part of.

She turned back to her captive. “Raise the Moon, Nightmare. Now, if you please.”

With a half-hearted scowl, Nightmare bowed her head and ignited her horn. Seconds passed, and the spell finished. Gulfstream saw and felt nothing different about the world.

Celestia nodded and said, “Thank you.” The magic around Nightmare’s throat faded, and she sagged to the floor in a heap. “Your task will be to spread your influence throughout Equestria. Perpetuate the image of Luna as a monster.

“And you.” She turned to Luna, but the princess didn’t notice. She still wept, though quietly, and appeared to be lost in her own despair. After watching for a few seconds, Celestia rolled her shoulders in a shrug. “As she seems useless to me at the moment, I shall give her the details later. Suffice to say her task will contrast yours; she will spread dreams of my goodness and glory, reminding everypony who their benevolent benefactor is.”

At first, there was no response. But when Celestia’s head shifted towards her, Nightmare grumbled, “As you command, Princess.”

“Good girl.” Celestia began walking for the door, but paused. She looked to Fine Crime, her expression sweet. “Oh, Fine Crime? I’ll be heading to Nildia tonight. Is there anything you’d like me to relay to your darling slut?”

Gulfstream had been observing the crying Luna, so it surprised him when he turned to find the rage in Fine Crime gone entirely. The stallion appeared almost… pleasant.

“Nothing I can’t send to her via potion,” he said. “I take it you’re going to meet with the president?”

She nodded. “He’s due to pay me back for intervening and saving his country from its own corruption. After all, if not for me he’d have never been elected, and incidents like the Rape of Sīṃgakh would be widespread.”

Fine smirked, something that made Gulfstream’s jaw drop once more. “Do tell President Foghorn I said ‘hi,’ won’t you?”

“I’m sure he’ll be pleased to hear it.” She looked over her shoulder to Nightmare Moon, who hadn’t bothered to get up from the floor. “I’ll be paying close attention, Nightmare. How you handle yourself while I’m gone will go a long way to determining the permanency of this situation. Make sure you remember it.”

She departed, closing the door quietly. Gulfstream felt tension leaving his body the moment she was out of sight.

Only to come back as he realized Luna and Nightmare Moon remained in the room. He looked from one to the other. Luna, the sound buffer faded, remained on her barrel with cannons over her eyes. Her body shook to the occasional hiccup. Even her mane seemed limp and feeble, falling over her back like a starry blanket.

In comparison, Nightmare Moon lay on her side against the lower seats, her expression sour and her gaze far away. Anger shone in her face, but there was also a subtle depression there.

They seemed so... defeated. The flame in Gulfstream's heart gave a little kick, but he mostly felt sadness. In his own way, he had looked up to this pony – these ponies? – and admired them. To see them brought so low so easily...

He turned to Fine Crime, who watched him with an unreadable expression. He leaned close to whisper, “What am I supposed to do now?”

Fine didn’t answer. He merely turned his attention back to the fallen alicorns.

Gulfstream growled and turned away with a huff. His anger faded quickly, however, as he took in the unpleasant sight below. It felt so wrong to see Luna and Nightmare as they were. The princess’s muffled weeping in particular continued to jab cold needles into his heart.

Shouldn’t he hate her? This was the pony who seduced Rainbow Dash into joining the tournament. If she hadn’t…

Why couldn’t he hate them?

Why did he want to go to them?

But Fine said he was not to say anything unless spoken to. This was a test, he couldn’t fail it. Lightning depended on him to do this right! He crossed his cannons and tried to think of a solution, wincing as Luna heaved a fresh sob. A glance at Fine garnered no help. The fire flickered, hurrying him to a conclusion. He couldn’t talk to them, but at least he could make his presence known. Then it would be up to them if he could talk, right?

Without looking to Fine, Gulfstream began to walk down the stairs. He took every step with caution, watching the two alicorns as a rabbit spies on a hawk. What would he say? What would he do?

It was Nightmare who first reacted, her head twisting his direction with startling swiftness. He froze, one hoof on the bottom floor of the amphitheater, and stared into those slitted pupils. Those eyes... they made him shiver, but not in a bad way. Fear filled him, yet he wanted to come closer. Only an underlying sense of self-preservation kept him from doing so.

Nightmare didn’t get up, but still she leaned towards him with a peering gaze. “I know you.”

After an involuntary swallow, he nodded. “W-we met at the Best Young Flier’s Competition. I-in Cloudsdale.”

She pursed her lips, scrutinizing him. Then her eyebrows rose and she sat up properly. “The little warrior.”

“W-what?” Luna finally raised her head, rubbing moisture from her eyes to look his way. “Gulfstream? What are you doing here?”

A calm elation rose against his fear; they remembered him! He stood tall and nodded to the princess, then to Nightmare. “I was… invited. To see this.” He opened his mouth only to realize that he had no idea what to say next. Closing it, he shifted and tried to think of something.

At that moment, the door from which Celestia had left burst open. “Luna!” All eyes turned to a white earth pony, his blonde mane and slightly overweight form matted with sweat. He froze at the top of the steps, taking in the sight of the alicorns below. After only a moment’s hesitation, he hurried to Luna. “Are you alright? It didn’t hurt, did it?”

“Calm yourself, Mr. Stone,” Luna said even as she sat upright. “I am… well.”

Nightmare leered. “You were sobbing like an infant.”

“I am physically fine.”

“Are you sure?” Mr. Stone looked over the princess’s body in a way that struck Gulfstream as intrusive, but she did not seem to mind. “Celestia appeared far too pleased with herself when she passed me in the hall.”

Nightmare pouted. “I was involved too, you know.”

Mr. Stone didn’t so much as glance her way. “I don’t care about you.”

Gulfstream took a step back, wincing as some unknown sensation passed over him. The fear that had been resting in the back of his mind grew stronger, giving Nightmare a sense of ominous presence she’d not had a moment ago.

She leaned towards Mr. Stone and Luna, her eyes vicious. “Is that any way to treat the mare who spared your life?”

To Gulfstream alarm, the stallion appeared unfazed by her threatening manner. He looked down his muzzle at her – as well as he could considering her superior height – and replied, “You had nothing to do with that though, did you?”

Luna’s cannon rested on his shoulder. She pushed him behind her, appearing curiously calm despite her ragged appearance. “No, Nye, she is right. She could have ended your life at any time, but she did not. For doing nothing, you do owe her your appreciation.”

Nightmare’s aggressive posture – both the physical pose and the fear-inducing aura that seemed to emanate from her – faded in favor of a sly smile. “Why, thank you, Luna. It’s good to know that some ponies can appreciate my… charity.”

Just when Gulfstream began to think he’d been forgotten, Nightmare’s gaze fell upon him once more. He straightened up as she spoke. “And you. Gulfstream. Do you still wish to be a warrior of the moon?”

A thrill ran through him. He opened his mouth—

“No!”

Before he could even cry out, his vision was blurred by blue wings. He was dragged aside, the force of the movement knocking him down. When he looked up, it was to find Princess Luna standing over him and glaring at Nightmare.

“You have done enough damage to this foal’s life. Leave him be, Nightmare!”

Now it was confusion that controlled Gulstream’s thoughts. He looked out from between Luna’s wings, which were wrapped forward in a shield before him.

Nightmare’s wry smile hadn’t faded. “Oh, come now, Luna. I agreed to let you be free of me, and it was not a pleasant thing for me to do. Besides, you already have an apprentice.” Her predatory gaze met his. “Let me have one of my own.”

“Your lies are transparent, monster,” Luna hissed. “You wanted this just as much as I did. And Nye is no apprentice, he is my friend!”

With an exaggerated gasp, Nightmare pressed a hoof to her heart. “And I am not permitted friends? You would deny me something so simple?” She turned away, pressing a hoof to her lips in mock distress. “Is it because I have fangs?”

Gulfstream wanted to protest; he rather liked her fangs.

Luna drowned out his attempt to speak. “Do not play games! I had no choice but to stand by as you ruined Rainbow and the others, but that will not happen now. I am free, Nightmare, and I will not be idle. This colt has been through enough pain!”

Anger and ache hit Gulfstream simultaneously. He wanted to ask questions. He also wanted to point out that he didn’t like being spoken of as if he weren’t right there. His attempt to stand was thwarted by Luna's hoof pushing down on his withers.

“And what are you going to do to stop me?” Nightmare leaned forward, baring her fangs and spreading her wings. She took a couple steps, licking her lips as her horn shimmered.

“Whatever I must.” Luna matched the pose.

“You know you cannot beat me in a direct fight.”

“That won’t stop me from standing up to you.”

Gulfstream crouched down, anger replaced with a very real fear. He wondered if this was what a toy felt like when two cats fought over it. It wasn’t a pleasant sensation. The temperature in the room was dropping, and the steam from his breath proved it had nothing to do with his imagination. Was he about to watch these two fight? Over him?

Nye’s voice pierced the tension in the air. “Luna, please! Don’t throw away this freedom right after you got it.”

Luna tensed. “Nye… I don’t think this counts as ‘freedom.’ ”

“You’re free from her, aren’t you? And remember, Celestia’s going to know about this; she has her dog here.”

Gulfstream didn’t have to see to know that all eyes had turned on Fine Crime. He shifted under Luna’s legs and looked as well.

The Mane Archon hadn’t moved, still sitting in the same spot as earlier. His ears raised at their sudden attention, but his stoic manner betrayed no other reaction. He didn’t even glance at Gulfstream, which was frustrating as the colt was very eager for some hint as to what he was expected to do.

“Fine Crime.” Nightmare spat the name like a curse. “I imagine you’re the one who brought the little warrior. A test for Celestia, no doubt.”

“Not at all,” he replied. “Gulfstream himself is being tested, not you. But you know as well as I do that, should Celestia ask, I would have no choice but to tell her exactly what I’ve seen here.”

A long pause. At last, Nightmare folded her wings. “Of course you would, and our sister would never approve of me killing Luna. She prefers slow torture, after all.”

Luna’s wings brushed Gulfstream’s back as she spoke. “A test? Am I to believe you are inducting this foal into your Archons?”

“I’m old enough to—” Gulfstream’s words were cut off by the brush of feathers against his muzzle. He lowered his head and steamed.

Fine’s voice remained as resolute as ever. “A member of the Order seeks to apprentice him. That is their business. I am simply looking to see what he will do before I grant full permission.”

“And is he meeting your expectations?” Nightmare asked, her voice sickly sweet as she cast another predatory look at Gulfstream through Luna’s wings.

Gulfstream barely acknowledged it, for he was too busy watching Fine with bated breath.

At last, Fine looked at him. His expression remained as unreadable as ever, but his tone lectured. “I don’t know yet. Neither of you have allowed him to speak.”

Moments passed in silence. Though he couldn’t see Luna’s face, he had the uncomfortable feeling that all her attention was on him. Nightmare’s certainly was, her manner contemplative, her smile smug. At last, Luna stepped back, giving him space to stand on his own.

With two titanic minds centered upon him, he preferred to remain sitting.

It was Nightmare who broke the stillness. “I think the Mane Archon has a point. Why not let the little warrior decide?”

Luna scoffed. “Because he is too young?”

“I was younger than him,” Fine noted from the periphery of the conversation.

Gulfstream looked from Luna to Nightmare, his mind filled with indecision. He felt he understood now what it was Fine wanted from him. This was another opportunity... but an overwhelming one. Nightmare wanted…

Come to think of it, he wasn’t entirely clear on what she wanted. So he turned to her and asked, “What are you after?”

“So direct.” She grinned, fangs glinting in the dim light. “You still wish to be a warrior, do you not? I can teach you.”

“And she’ll use you,” Luna said, catching his attention. “What does she gain from such an agreement other than your life to torment?”

Nightmare chuckled. “Oh, aren’t we the righteous princess?”

Gulfstream turned back to her with a scowl. “It’s a good question. What do you get from me?”

She raised an eyebrow, smile wavering. “Not such a simpleton as I expected. A loyal follower would be a good start. For all her blatant flaws, our dear princess has a wing up on me in that department.”

Luna stomped. “Do not believe her! She seeks only your pain.”

Gulfstream shifted his glare to her. He opened his mouth to snap, but the memory of her breakdown weighed upon him. It was enough to let him douse his inner flame… some. “Will you train me to be a warrior?”

She raised her head in a regal display. “And you would do what? There is no defeating Celestia. Nor would I condone your petty revenge.” Then she lowered her head, ears folding back. “Gulfstream, we are responsible for what happened to Rainbow, and by extension, to your cousin. Lightning did not deserve to die. Please, let me repay this debt. I can help you with your fury.”

Her words soothed. He had to admit, the idea sounded pleasant.

“Why put away your anger?” Nightmare asked eagerly. “There’s no need to tame it when you could use it. She will stifle you, whereas I will give you the tools you need to excel!” She took a step forward, her eyes narrowed. “What she says of your cousin is true, we are responsible. Your family has acted as collateral damage. Perhaps we could help to make up for our actions.”

Luna let out a low growl. “Deceiver! You feel no guilt for that. You delighted in—”

“Stop it!”

Gulfstream clamped his hooves over his muzzle as the two alicorns looked upon him with vicious glares. Had he really just snapped at them? Good Goddess, let him get out of this room alive!

But… he had their attention. He looked from one to another. He knew he had to say something before they started bickering again, but what? What could he possibly ask that would make his decision any easier? Lightning… she would want him to accept Luna’s offer. He knew it for a fact. If he chose her, would he also be choosing to leave Rainbow alone and abandon his revenge? Luna herself wouldn’t condone such a thing, he was reasonably certain.

Nightmare Moon would welcome it. And she’d teach him the skills to do it! He hunched low, struggling with the options available to him. What to do, what to do?

“I grow impatient, little warrior.”

He looked to Nightmare, took in her fangs, her mane… her eyes.

Those eyes. Even now, they pierced his mind and invited something akin to fear to his heart. For reasons he couldn’t grasp, he still liked them. He felt strangely comfortable beneath them. They were wicked and piercing, true, but they were also incredibly familiar. How many times had he seen them in his dreams? How many months had he longed to feel them upon him once more?

Ever since the day of the contest. Their anger burned…

Anger.

The answer was before him all along.

He turned to Nightmare. “You’re angry.”

She paused, brow knitting with uncertainty. “Of course I am.”

He took a step closer. “But you’re always angry.”

The confused frown didn’t change. She looked to Luna as if expecting her to give an explanation. When none came, she merely looked to Gulfstream. “Yes.”

He gave a small nod, his suspicions confirmed. “I understand that. I think I finally get why I like your eyes so much.”

Her eyebrows shot up. Whatever menace she’d last held faded and she looked upon him with true bewilderment. “My eyes?”

He sat, brought his knees to his chest, and closed his eyes. He saw her gaze, cat-like irises studying him, testing him, judging him. He could feel the anger within them.

Anger like his own.

When he opened his eyes to take in hers, he saw the same thing he often did in the mirror most mornings; a flame that always lingered in the back of the mind. A fire of frustration and fury that might be pushed down or ignored, but could never really go out. Her inner flame spoke to his own, filling him with longing and a desire to be recognized.

He offered a frail smile. “I remember how you let me hold your sword.” He raised his legs up and down in a slow mimicry of how he’d held the weapon so long ago. “You gave me… acceptance.”

“Gulfstream—”

Whatever Luna was about to say, she held back when he turned to her. Concern lined her soft features. Nye stood at her side, his manner grim.

Gulfstream shook his head. “I know you mean well, Princess. I wish I could be with both of you, but I have to choose. I’m sorry, but…” He turned back to Nightmare. “I think this is the better choice. For her and me.”

Nightmare didn’t gloat. Nor did she smile. She only stared at Gulfstream as if he were a puzzle she couldn’t solve. She fidgeted as she asked, “You choose me because I am… angry?”

“Because we’re both angry.” He took a step closer. “I think you’d appreciate somepony who understands.”

Her wings ruffled. She averted her gaze. “You weren’t supposed to pick me for my sake.”

Gulfstream shrugged. “Well, I’m doing it anyway. Do you really care why?”

“Yes, I do.” Nightmare wrinkled her muzzle as if she’d just gotten a whiff of some nasty scent. “This isn’t the kind of victory I was going for.”

“You could always deny him his desire,” Luna ventured in an even tone.

Nightmare promptly straightened, her posture stiffening into proper regality. “And give you the pleasure of the first victory in our freedom from one another? Not a chance.” She cast her gaze upon Gulfstream, this time with all the force he’d come to anticipate… and enjoy. “I will accept you, little warrior. I shall teach you myself.”

Fine appeared at Gulfstream’s side, standing tall before her. “Then you’ll have to coordinate with Fleur de Lis, to whom he is apprenticed. Gulfstream is an Archon, and will eventually be a member of the Order. I am sorry, Nightmare, but we take precedence.”

Gulfstream’s ears perked, a combined wave of confusion and pleasure passing over him. He’d passed! He didn’t know how he passed, but he had.

Nightmare leveled Fine with a piercing frown. “Of course he is. Celestia’s little pets get all the nice things, don’t they?”

Her words stung. Once again, Gulfstream felt like a cat’s toy. Or perhaps he was the mouse, being played with prior to the kill.

“For now,” Nightmare purred as her delightfully creepy eyes met his, “I think I shall spend a little time with my new… ‘friend.’ Walk with me, Gulfstream Dust.”

Though worry ate at him, Gulfstream nodded. He got two steps in when Fine’s hoof landed on his shoulder.

“In a moment,” the Mane Archon said. “Allow me to speak to the boy, and then he’s all yours.”

She nodded, a wry smile on her lips once more. As she turned away, she gave Gulfstream a wink. “Don’t keep me waiting, little colt.”

She disappeared out the door, and the air seemed to warm up in an instant. Gulfstream sighed, his shoulders sagging and his hind legs collapsing. He felt so horribly drained.

Luna appeared at his side, the tips of her primal feathers running along his back. “I cannot say I approve of your decision, Mr. Dust. But, as misguided as it is, I do approve of your reason behind it. If you ever wish to speak to me of my vile counterpart, do not hesitate to do so. It is the least I can offer for my transgressions against you.”

Gulfstream wouldn’t look to her, though he didn’t know why. He merely nodded.

The feathers left his back. Her next words came out with a harder edge. “A word of caution. I have lived with that fiend in my head for a millennium. She cannot be redeemed, and she does not care about you. Remember that well, and wait for the moment of her betrayal. Good luck, Gulfstream Dust. You will need it.”

With those parting words, Luna too left the amphitheater, her attendant Nye close behind.

Now it was only Fine. Gulfstream raised his head; the Mane Archon watched him with a solemn gaze.

“So… I passed?”

Fine nodded. “Not in the way I expected, but you did indeed.”

Gulfstream rubbed his mane back, wings giving a faint flap. “But I thought you wanted me to pick Luna. Wait, did you know they were going to fight over me like that?”

Fine’s mask finally broke, revealing a smug smile. “I had a hunch.”

He huffed and crossed his cannons. “You could have warned me.”

“No, I couldn’t,” Fine replied. The mask came back on. “The best test is that which the testee isn’t prepared for. Keeping you in the dark was essential to my scheme. And by the way, who you chose wasn’t as important as why you chose her.”

Gulfstream sniffed and turned his face away, but his frustration was only halfhearted. After a moment, he looked to Fine once more. “So what happens now?”

Fine stood aside and gestured to the door Nightmare Moon had left from. “Now you train with Fleur de Lis and Nightmare Moon at their discretion.”

“But don’t you have some special instruction for me? Like, ‘keep an eye on Nightmare Moon’ or something?”

Fine patted his shoulder, then turned for the door. “All things in due time, Mr. Dust. For now, just focus on what they teach you.”

And so Gulfstream was left on his own, sitting in the middle of the tall, gloomy amphitheater. He thought about what had transpired, his emotions shifting between concern an exhilaration. He was going to be an Archon, which was awesome. He was going to be trained by Nightmare Moon herself, which was awesome.

But then again… he was going to be trained by Nightmare Moon.

With a whimper, he cast his gaze to the ceiling and beyond. “Lightning, what have I gotten myself into?”

No answer came. His cousin wouldn’t speak to him anymore. Her wings wouldn’t guide him, her hooves would not comfort him. That torch had been passed, and two mares he barely knew were sharing it. The thought sent his insides to flipping.

But he’d begun this path of his own free will. Lightning would expect him to carry through with it. For revenge or for his peace of mind, one way or another he had to keep going.

With these thoughts weighing heavily on his mind, he turned and made for the door. It was time to properly introduce himself to the monster.

A monster just like him.

His lips curled into a smile.
> Book IV – Fleur de Lis: Shadow Pony
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------




Fine told me to start at the beginning. I suppose most ponies would have to pause to look back and wonder where their life really began.

I do not.

October 10, C.Y. 986

I was already eleven years old, but that is the day I was born.

—Fleur de Lis, Book of Shadows XLVIII,

June 8, 1007












October 10, C.Y. 986 
Zamoroʐyenniye Krilo, Grypha


She awoke to the sound of coughing.

That wasn’t unusual.

The hay she’d slept on was coarse and dirty, the leftovers of her elder brother and father after a month of activity ranging from simple sleep to naughty activities she wasn’t meant to be privy to. For a bedsheet, she had a thin blanket she’d managed to rescue from a trash pile. Her room was a closet under creaky stairs on the north side of the house, the cracks in the walls letting the eager air chill her.

None of this was unusual.

With her blanket wrapped tightly around her, she crawled to the wall and peered through the cracks. Long experience told her the sun would soon be rising. Though her side stung from the splinters and a fierce chill filled her to her core, she knew she couldn’t waste time.

And so she folded her paltry blanket as neatly as she could and tidied her precious few possessions; a little mirror with the frame broken, a hand-me-down pillow that did little for her head at night, a large clay bowl with a small crack in its side, and a hairbrush missing half its bristles, rescued from the same trash heap as her blanket. Once the closet was presentable enough – she hoped – she took the bowl and left.

The filly moved as quietly as she could. Her father upstairs wouldn’t wake up for another hour at least, and was a heavy sleeper. Especially after a night of drinking. Her brother, on the other hoof, slept lightly, and she had to pass his bedroom hallway to get to the kitchen. She crept past, tail between her legs and bowl in her teeth. Carefully now, carefully…

No boards creaked. She’d learned exactly where to step, and so she made it to the kitchen without incident. There was still some water left in the basin from when she did dishes the night before. Bits of leftover food floated on its soap scum-decorated surface, but she managed to avoid getting any of it into her clay bowl. She wondered if she could get away with using soap today.

No. No, she didn’t dare. She rinsed her bowl as best she could and scrubbed it with a dirty rag. It could never be properly cleaned under the circumstances, so not much time was wasted on the task. As soon as she had the bowl as clean as it could possibly be, she set it in a corner under the cabinet. With luck, none of the dirt from the day’s activities would get into it this time.

She wasn’t lucky very often.

The next part of her day began with gathering firewood. The wood pile was out by the river, and her legs, long but frail, made it hard for her to pick up more than two or three pieces of firewood at once. The snow wasn’t particularly high this morning, though it still reached to her shoulders. Another lesson learned from long ago, the filly took a couple boards lying by the front door and made a small ramp, then grabbed some snow horseshoes. She stepped lightly and with experience to traverse the wobbling planks with little trouble.

It took her three trips to the river and back to collect all the firewood. A biting wind left her legs and ears numb, but she didn’t try to get her brother's coat. Though it happened years ago, she could still recall the pain of her punishment when her brother had found snow on one from her borrowing it. Instead, she kept warm through hard work, taking the heavy logs and moving as quickly as she could to cross the snow without sinking in it, walk carefully over the dangerously bending boards and deposit the wood in the cooking pit.

Now came her favorite chore. With the logs properly set, she used the magic of her unusually long horn to carry the flint and light the fire. That done, she collected the clean pan and floated it over the fire while gathering the ingredients for a simple breakfast. Hay, lettuce and cabbage mixed in a thin layer of oil, topped with goat cheese. Then came the delicacy; hay sausage, a treat for which she’d never been afforded.

Last but not least, the special ingredient. She moved to the windows and checked as the light of dawn gradually covered the snowy plains; not a soul in sight. She checked the other window, then even went out in the frigid cold and patrolled the house. Satisfied that there would be no unexpected visitors, she hurried inside and pulled up one of the floorboards.

Chicken eggs. Only eight of them. They were nestled within a small hole, padded by cloth. With as gentle a magical touch as she could manage, she lifted two of them up. Once they were safe near the fire, she replaced the board, taking care to ensure it was exactly as it had been before.

Cooking wasn’t just her favorite chore, it was the only one she looked forward to. She wasn’t especially good at it, but there were very few others where she was permitted to use her magic. Best of all, she had heat; the fire crackled before her, filling her body with the warmth it would need to survive another harsh day of wind and snow. She always made sure to start early so as to take in as much of that precious heat as she could, lest she lose it too quickly and freeze during the day’s activities.

A few griffons had mentioned how tall she was for a filly her age. She didn’t know if it was true, having met no other ponies her age to compare herself to, but she doubted it. If she were tall like they said, she wouldn’t need a chair to see inside the pan as she broke the eggs. She didn’t like having to use the chair, because she had to set it back from the fire to keep it safe, and that meant less warmth. A chill wind ran through the house, clawing her back and making her shiver.

Once certain that no eggshells had fallen into the pan and the food was being properly prepared, she dropped from the chair and settled next to the fire. Resting on her barrel, she closed her eyes and took in the warmth.

This moment – this lingering, quiet, comfortable moment – was the best moment of every day. If she held her eyes tightly closed and let her imagination work its magic, she didn’t live in an old house on the edge of some snow-swept, backwater town of griffons. No, at that moment she was in a comfortable home, basking in the sunlight streaming through a window. In a few minutes somepony would find her there, give her a hug, and tell her…

Tell her she was loved.

She ignored her head, which told her that it was just a silly dream. Instead, she listened rapturously to her heart, which told her that someday, in the distant future, this would be her reality.

She wondered if such dreams were unusual.

The fantasy lingered, warm and sweet and pleasant, until a muffled cough pulled her out of it. Her ears perked to the sound of hoofsteps upstairs. At the same time, the sizzling of the pan came back to her. Swiftly, she hopped onto the chair and checked the still-floating pan.

Her heart sank at the sight of the food. It filled the air with a pleasant aroma. To her, it looked like the greatest of feasts, but she knew what the reaction would be. Heart pounding, she pulled the pan from the fire and carefully, delicately shifted its contents into two clean plates from the cabinet. She eyed the two meals, using her magic to delicately remove the overcooked bits. Well, not ‘overcooked’ at all, really, but she silently begged they’d not notice. Eating the extras was out of the question; if her father found out she wouldn't eat again until tomorrow.

The last of the bad bits were swiftly tossed into the fire as the hoofsteps, heavy and stomping, descended the stairs. With head low and posture meek, she brought the plates to the kitchen table and set them in their usual locations.

As soon as she sat in the corner, her father appeared in the doorway. He was a thin orange pony, but compared to her he was a giant. Her breathing caught at his very presence, and her legs trembled with his hoofsteps. He did not so much as glance at her before settling before his plate. His head turned to the empty spot by the table. Grumbling, he brushed his light grey mane back and looked to the hall.

“Are you going to get up, boy, or am I gonna have to go in there?”

His voice had a light quality to it, which always defied the harshness of his tone. He stomped once, the blow shaking the table, and a moment later the door to her brother’s room opened. The stallion all but crawled into the kitchen, his pale pink mane a mess of tangles that covered his face. His coat matched their father’s perfectly but, even though still a teenager, he was already the taller pony.

Their father snorted at his grumpy appearance. “If you’d stop staying out all night chasing tailfeathers, maybe you’d be able to get up on time.”

“Sorry, Pop.” Her brother’s tone didn’t reflect the words very well.

They began to eat. The filly stared at her hooves, struggling to keep her breathing as quiet as possible. Please let them not notice, please…

“Small eggs this morning,” her brother grumbled.

Her ears lowered.

“Indeed…” Her father shifted. She didn’t see it, but she could hear the floorboards creaking beneath him. “The sausage is… Fleur.”

Her heart sank at the ominous tone. Slowly, her muzzle almost touching the floor, she turned and took a trembling step closer.

“You overcooked the food.”

She kept her lips sealed, but behind them her teeth chattered. She didn’t dare look up.

“You were daydreaming again.”

Fleur winced and closed her eyes. She wanted to say something, but the last time she did that…

His hooves clacked on the floorboards. She did her best to stiffen, preparing for the inevitable.

Her brother spoke up, his voice still droning with weariness and disinterest. “Mr. Podzornayatrooba will be here later.”

The hoofsteps paused. Fleur didn’t look up, didn’t bother to hope. She held her breath and waited.

Her father sat back down. “Go to your room. You will come out when it’s time to prepare lunch.”

Her eyes opened wide; that was unusual. The clay bowl under the counter beckoned to her, but her father’s growl overrode her hunger. Tail tucked, she walked quietly to her room. Neither her father nor her brother said another word.

When the door to her closet shut, she took a moment to examine her surroundings. The same familiar, dirty room. Wind blew through the cracks, whistling as it invaded her private space and sent tremors up and down her form. Already, the fire’s warmth faded from her small body. With nothing better to do, she wrapped herself in her thin blanket and lay in the corner beneath the steps. She would hear every hoofstep and dust would rain on her whenever her father would go upstairs, but it was the safest place from the cold air.

She took the mirror with her. Once she’d settled down to be as comfortable as possible, she used the edge of her hoof to pull back on the broken frame. It came apart easily. When it did, a piece of paper dropped to the floor. Fleur picked it up as gently as she could.

A mare smiled back at her. She was a big pony, wide and stout. No horn. She’d overheard once that her mother had been an earth pony, which she guessed was a name for all ponies without horns.

Fleur studied the image closely, as she had so many days and nights in the past. The hard chin that contradicted the soft, round cheeks, the thin eyebrows, the long pink mane. The strong muscles of her legs, the slight arch of her back, the tail caught in mid-flick. She seemed so happy, standing before a house that didn’t look so old as it did now. Fleur never knew what was beyond the burned portion of the photo, but she always assumed it had been her father.

Her stomach rumbled. She ignored it. She focused her attention instead on her brush. Keeping her gaze on the photograph, she worked on her mane.

She worked on her mane for a long time.

That was not unusual.









Fleur watched the rays of light shift through the cracks in her closet. She knew how to tell from the angle of the sunlight when it was nearing noon. Noon… the halfway point of her day. She typically hated lunch time, but today she was simply glad to note that time did indeed pass. By the time her door opened, she felt a distinct pain in her stomach.

Her brother had already marched away from the closet by the time she poked her head out. With tentative steps, she went to the workroom. The largest room in the house, it took up an entire third of the structure. The dirt floor was clear of debris and worn smooth from years of hooves moving across it. One wall was lined by a battered set of shelves covered in tools. Empty tanning racks took up one corner of the room, and she could see a few in use outside the large doors. The skins of weasels and other small animals were everywhere, all in various stages of tanning.

She had meant to go see her father, who she noted was outside working on the de-greasing vats, but her eyes fell upon a particularly large pelt lying on the worktable in the center of the room. It was a pale brown color, and when she saw the fur it nearly stopped her heart. Slowly, she approached the thing.

Fleur had seen many pelts in her short life. Only twice before had she seen one like this brought in. It could only be elk.

Watching her father and brothers make coats and the like for the griffons was one thing, but looking at this, she couldn’t help but imagine a living, breathing, talking creature not unlike her. Did the griffons chase it down? Did it put up a fight? What had it done to deserve to have its skin paraded around like an accessory?

Life was hard on the Griffa Plains. Fleur knew this as well as any. Yet she couldn’t help but think that the poor elks deserved better than this. Maybe it was just because griffons were natural hunters. Perhaps, to them, elks were nothing more than prey.

So what was she? Maybe some day she’d be walking outside and a griffon would leap out of the snow to rip her chest open and tear out her heart. It might not even need a reason to do so, save perhaps hunger. Maybe it would be better to die like that; at least the griffon would appreciate her meat in its belly and the warmth her skin would provide.

“It’s a special order.”

Fleur pulled her hoof back from the pelt with a flinch. She turned to her father, keeping her eyes on the dirt. She half expected him to strike her for touching the pelt.

Instead, he simply spoke, his tone quiet and contemplative. “It’s really something, the way life works.” He stepped up and closely examined the pelt, rubbing the hair with his hoof. “I understand that this poor guy gave them a good chase. Kept going for three days, even after one got a claw in his flanks. He earned their respect, and for that he gets the honor of being made into a coat for the one that finally caught him.”

He turned once more to Fleur, who refused to raise her head. She did her best not to whimper when her stomach growled and prayed he hadn’t heard.

Her father continued, “I want you to understand something, child. In this world, you must prove yourself useful. If you do that, then you live on. If you don’t, the griffons eat you. We shouldn’t blame them for this; they are struggling to get by just as much as we are. It is because we help them survive that we survive in turn. You want to be useful, don’t you? Speak.”

Her ears perked; she’d not been permitted to speak in… she wasn’t sure how long. She worked her lips, wondering if they would remember how. “I do, sir.”

“Good.” He patted her head; she flinched at his touch, only realizing after that he’d not intended to strike. “That is good, child. So please, understand that when I do not feed you, it is to demonstrate the cost of failure. Is that understood? Speak.”

Twice in as many minutes? In her surprise, she almost looked up at him, but stopped herself at the last instant. “I understand, sir.”

“Good,” he said again. “Then you won’t mess up the lunch today. I have a lot of work to do, and I want to eat light anyways so that I can properly enjoy the large meal to be made for tonight’s guest. My son and I shall enjoy simple sandwiches, you know the type. Only one each, so as to give us hearty appetites in the evening.”

Fleur nodded, but didn’t move. She waited for his permission, but when it didn’t come she began to fidget. Was there something else he wanted? A tremble ran through her; what if she’d forgotten to do something? But he’d made her stay in her room, she couldn’t have done anything regardless!

“My sister will be coming over tonight to cook supper,” he said at last. “She will not require your help, as we want this meal to be especially good. Mr. Podzornayatrooba is an important figure in the town and things have to go well. You will take a bath before sundown, then wait in your room until it is time for dinner. You will be permitted to eat at the table.”

A gasp escaped her. She couldn’t help it; she looked up. When she did, her father’s expression darkened.

Icy claws gripped her heart. She jerked her head away as quickly as she could and lowered to a prostrate bow, lips and legs trembling.

He stepped closer, and his hoofbeat was like thunder in her ears.

“Do not buck this up, child. I’ve been treating you kindly these last few months. If I have to regret my kindness, so will you. Now go.”

It took all the willpower she possessed not to gallop, but there could be no hiding the teardrops in the dirt.

That was not unusual.









Baths. Fleur hated baths. She didn’t mind being clean, but the process for being so always proved a terrible ordeal.

Entirely because she couldn’t heat the water.

When her father and brother used the bath, they would have her build a fire beneath the tank. Being deemed not worth the firewood, Fleur was forced to simply fill the tub with the water as it was. Opening the spigot gave her only a trickle, and she had to bang on the pipes to dislodge the ice within before she could get something resembling a proper flow. She didn’t use much water, just enough to moisten the soap – something she’d only been able to use once before in her entire life – and soak her mane and tail for a proper cleaning.

Even that quickly turned into a challenge, for the water froze in her hair and refused to budge without her taking the effort to break it. The bite of the ice in her coat and mane was enough to bring tears to her eyes, but she struggled through the misery quietly. Her father was letting her clean herself, after all. She couldn’t refuse his generosity.

She was still working diligently on getting the soapy ice from her tail when her aunt entered the room. Apparently she’d needed some more water for cooking and had come to get some from the tank.

The mare took in the filly’s plight with wide eyes and a gasp. “By the Goddess, child, is this what my brother’s requiring of you?”

Knowing better than to respond vocally, Fleur merely continued her work with eyes on the ground.

“Stop that this instant.”

Fleur thought of her father and what he would do if she disobeyed him by not finishing her bath. Would it be worse than if she disobeyed her aunt? Caught in a moment of horrible indecisiveness, she inadvertently obeyed. She cringed in preparation as her aunt approached.

Her aunt ran a hoof over Fleur’s frozen mane. “I know you’re a useless waif of a girl, but this will take forever! We can’t leave the constable waiting, nor can we have you looking like a mess. We’ll have both if things go on like this.”

She turned to the tank and, after a moment’s concentration, ignited her horn. She stood still for several long seconds, her eyes closed tight and mumbled nothings slipping through her lips. Fleur watched in quiet wonder as the ice on the tank slowly melted. Her aunt had always been better at magic than her father, but this surely must have taxed even her abilities. The spell continued until the tank was hot enough that all the ice had melted from the outside, and only then did her aunt’s horn dim.

She heaved a long sigh, then turned to Fleur. “There, now let me do something about you.”

Fleur bit her lip to keep from yelping as a beam of light struck her. With it came no pain, only a deep warmth. Within seconds, the ice had melted from her body and left her feeling nothing short of delightful. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d enjoyed so much heat!

Her aunt tapped the shampoo bottle, knocking it towards Fleur. “Use this. I’ll explain to my brother why it’s not a waste… this time. You’ll want to hurry, the water will be freezing again before too long.” She levitated a bucket to the spigot and retrieved what she needed, then turned to leave. “Get started, girl! I won’t be doing that again.”

The water escaped the tank freely, flowing better than Fleur had ever known it to before. It proved more lukewarm than hot, but she saw that as nothing less than a blessing. She did as her aunt instructed and washed herself thoroughly with the soap and shampoo, cleansing herself of grit and grime that had built up over months of neglect. When it was all said and done, Fleur felt – for the first time in her life – clean.

Even though she was starving, Fleur enjoyed her bath.

That was most unusual.









As instructed, Fleur remained in her closet until called upon. The sun was just peeking beyond the horizon, soon to go to sleep and leave the night sky open for its nocturnal sibling. Fleur spent the long wait grooming her coat and mane. She took great delight in the act, admiring herself in the mirror and trying valiantly – if in vain – to imitate her mother’s manestyle.

It also served to distract from how unfathomably hungry she was. The smell of her aunt’s cooking didn’t help matters.

At last, there came a knock on her door. She opened it to see her brother, who stared down his upraised muzzle at her. His eyes widened upon seeing her, and his upper lip curled back in a scowl. Fleur backed into her closet, not certain what she had done to earn his anger. She fell to her knees and bowed her head, silently begging him not to deny her tonight’s feast.

After a few seconds of silence, her brother tapped his hoof on the floor to catch her attention. His scowl unchanged, he thrust the same hoof to the kitchen. “Stand tall and don’t embarrass us. And don't you ever try to wear your hair like that again.”

She nodded and moved for the kitchen, hanging her head low but keeping her legs as straight as she could.

Her brother grumbled and reached a hoof to her chin, forcing her head up. “As long as our guest remains in the house, you may look. Just don’t stare.”

She swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded. Oh, let her look presentable! She wanted this meal so badly.

She entered the kitchen to find the head of the table – her father’s place – taken up by an unusually large griffon. He was chortling and grinning with her father, a large steaming plate before him.

He turned to her, nothing save joviality in his manner. “Ah, and this must be the reclusive daughter I’ve heard rumors of. I must say, I thought you were a myth, the kind of tale old hens whisper to their grandchildren.”

Fleur’s heart came to a stop. The griffon smiled upon her as if he anticipated an answer. No one had ever been so… so direct with her! If she did the wrong thing…

Legs wobbling, she ducked her head and looked to her father, being careful to avoid eye contact. His smile had faded to an unreadable expression, but he nodded.

Oh, no. What to say? “I… um… I promise I’m real.”

The griffon burst into laughter, slapping a claw over his chest as he did. “She’s more shy than those stupid elks from the northern hills!”

“Y-yes, sir, quite right.” Her father exchanged a dark frown with her brother, who had already settled at his side. Fleur noticed her aunt sitting opposite her father. A chair sat beside her, and Fleur realized it was meant for her. Heart pounding, she carefully climbed on.

It was curious, how entirely different the world could look just by seeing it at a different angle. Fleur stared at the table from above for what may have been the first time ever. Somehow, she’d always thought it would have a more polished surface, but what she saw instead were cracks and stains. She studied the curve of the wood’s layers, tracing them with her eyes, memorizing them just in case she never saw them again.

In so doing, she finally saw the plate set before her. She blinked, taking in its smooth shape. This wasn’t a rough tool like her bowl, nor was it the simple items she used to feed her father and brother. No, this had been made from smooth, treated wood. She’d never been permitted to even know where these plates were, much less eat from them. Thinking a mistake had been made, she looked around the table for her clay bowl and its porridge.

But there had been no mistake. Every pony and griffon had the same plates.

Fleur flinched back from the plate, fear gnawing at her insides. This wasn’t right, she wasn’t supposed to have one of these! What if she broke it, or scratched it with her teeth? What would her father do to her? They'd given her a fork and knife, but she'd never used those before!

She couldn’t say anything, and that made it all the worse. It was one thing for a serious error to have occurred, it was another when she couldn’t speak to correct it! She cast a pleading look her father’s way, but he didn’t seem to notice.

Before she could think any further, something landed in her plate. She could only gape, mouth watering and stomach rumbling, upon steamed carrots and cabbage, diced turnips in some brown sauce, and mouthful of peas. Steam roiled from the lot of it, filling her nostrils with such delightful an aroma as she’d never dreamed of. All of this… for her?

Then her aunt placed one more item on the plate, something Fleur had never even seen before: meat. She had no idea what kind of meat, but it clearly belonged to a small animal. Rabbit, perhaps?

Fleur had never seen her father or brother eat meat. In fact, she wasn’t sure ponies could eat it. Yet, as she looked around the table, she saw that every plate had a piece of the stuff. The others all had much bigger portions compared to hers, but she didn’t mind that; what she had was already at least three times as much as she would get to eat in a regular day. Given that she’d not had so much as a nibble for herself all day long, she was certain she’d be eating every bite.

The meal began in earnest, and it really was unlike anything Fleur had ever known before. Her brother, father and aunt spoke with a polite pleasantness alien to her ears, but not so alien as the laughter that erupted from them fairly regularly at Mr. Podzornayatrooba’s jokes. She still rarely spoke, and even then it was only to answer the rare question from the constable.

She gathered quickly that, although the circumstances were different from the usual, her behavior was not expected to be. Though she kept her head up and smiled when the griffon looked her way, she said not a word and didn’t look anyone in the eye. The vegetables were the most delectable treats than any she’d ever had, and she ate them slowly so as best to savor every bite.

The peas practically melted in her mouth! Had she just discovered her favorite food?

What a novel concept.

The meat, on the other hoof… Fleur ate it to be polite, but it didn’t feel right on her tongue, and her teeth didn’t seem to behave properly around it. If her family felt similarly, they did a good job of masking it. Perhaps they were only accommodating their meat-eating guest? With nothing else to go on, she assumed this was the case and tried to follow their example.

Fleur attempted to pay attention to the conversation, but it wasn’t easy. Most of the time she focused on studying the room from her new position. It felt good to be high up. It let her see more and made her feel special. Perhaps, for tonight at least, she was. Even if the constable was the only one that would ever speak to her, and then only infrequently. She got the feeling he was trying to be accommodating, too.

After the meal had ended, Fleur’s aunt began taking the dishes away. She wasn’t told to help, and when she reached for her own her aunt snatched it away as if afraid for the thing. Fleur didn’t understand – cleaning dishes was normally her job – but chose not to fret over it. Tonight had been unusually pleasant. Why ruin that by doing more than was asked of her?

Her ears perked. What did the constable just say?

Her father possessed an incredulous frown as he addressed the griffon. “A pony? Really? Is this some kind of joke?”

Mr. Podzornayatrooba was watching her father with a grim expression. “Do I look like I’m joking, Gladkaya? A pony came to town just yesterday. A unicorn.”

Fleur leaned against the table, paying rapt attention.

Her father didn’t seem so interested. “What the flying feather is a unicorn doing in these parts? It’s not exactly a tourist trap.”

The constable tapped his claws on the table in a rolling rhythm. “That’s what I was hoping you could tell me. I didn’t get to meet him, but I saw him a few times. Tried to talk to him every time, but couldn’t catch him.”

Fleur’s father tensed. Her brother appeared as confused as she felt.

“What do you mean, couldn’t catch him?” Her father’s tone was terse… and perhaps a little worried.

Beak snapping in annoyance, the constable crossed his arms and glared at the ceiling. “I mean every time I tried to get to him, he disappeared. It was like trying to corner a shadow. I guarantee you, that pony didn’t want to be talked to.”

Her brother grinned. “He sounds cool.”

“He sounds like a pony with something to hide,” her father countered. “I don’t know anything about any weird ponies, Constable.”

The constable’s eyes narrowed as he gazed down at Fleur’s father. “He was looking for a pony family. According to the griffons I spoke to in town, he had a name and a description. Doesn’t take much for ponies in Grypha; colors alone would do it. You know who it was?”

Again with the tension in her father’s pose. Fleur’s chest pressed against the edge of the table, her ears rotated forward as she listened. Her brother looked much the same.

“Purpurnyj.”

Crash.

All eyes turned to the kitchen, where Fleur’s aunt stared at them all with her jaw hanging loose. At her hooves lay the remains of one of the plates.

Her father stood quickly. “Blyesk, it’s okay. It’s not that.”

“How do you know, Gladkaya? What if it is?”

Fleur looked from her trembling aunt to her father, who sagged against the table as if he’d lost all his strength. She’d never seen him look so… frail. Her brother gaped at the stallion, then shifted a little closer and rubbed his shoulder.

The constable leaned forward. “What is it that troubles you?”

“I-it’s nothing,” her father replied, but there was little conviction in his tone. When the constable didn’t stop staring, he sighed and nodded. “It’s just that… grandmother once told us this story about why she came to this land. The story came with a warning.”

A talon rested on his shoulder. The griffon spoke softly, “What was the warning, Gladkaya?”

Fleur’s aunt stepped closer, shaking her head.

She was ignored. “It was: ‘Beware of ponies coming from far away places. Where the light shines, it creates a shadow, and someday that shadow may come for us all.’ ”

The constable’s eyes grew so large Fleur thought they would fall from their sockets. Slowly, he pulled his talon away. “I… I see. Well, that’s that, then.”

Fleur’s father shook his head forcefully. “It doesn’t mean anything. It could be nothing.”

“But Gladkaya!” Fleur’s aunt raised her hooves in an imploring gesture. “He spoke of our family – by name. What else could it be?”

Fleur’s brother spoke up. “I don’t understand. What are you two talking about?”

“Not now, son. Constable, isn’t there anything you can do, just in case?”

The constable opened his beak to respond, then reconsidered. His claws rolled on the table yet again as he thought. His eye lingered on Fleur, and she thought she saw sadness in that gaze. At last, he asked, “Do you have any means of protecting your family?”

Her father shifted. “Aside from our magic? I… I guess we have our tanning knives.”

“I suggest you keep them close.”

A choking sound rose from her father’s throat. “You want us to… to… With just knives? You’re the law in this town, isn’t it your job to do something about this kind of thing?”

The constable rubbed his eyes and heaved a long sigh. “Against a ‘shadow of the light?’ There’s not a griffon on this side of the Lena that would even dream of tangling with something like that. If you really want to survive this, I propose you and yours get out of town as quickly and quietly as you can and pray this pony doesn’t catch your scent.”

Fleur’s brother stomped hard enough to shake the wooden floor. “Come on, what in the snows are you guys going on about?”

“I better go.” The constable stood with a small bow of his head. “I appreciate the meal, Blyesk, and I’m sorry I can offer nothing more. For what it’s worth, this town is going to miss you ponies.”

Her father shouted after the retreating griffon. “Constable? Mr. Podzornayatrooba! Damn you, you can’t just run away, you have a job to do!”

The front door slammed closed. Silence loomed over everypony present. Slowly, Fleur’s father dropped to his haunches, shoulders slumped and head hanging so low she couldn’t see it for the table. She looked to her aunt, but the mare had her hooves pressed together and was whispering with her eyes closed. That left her brother, but he appeared no less confused than she felt.

For the first time in years, their eyes met. He made no attempt to threaten her for the offense. He merely gazed back with a lost expression. At last, he reached up to place a hoof on their father’s shoulder.

The contact made the older stallion jump. He looked at him, then at his sister. He didn’t even cast a glance Fleur’s way. His expression hardened.

“Red, I want you to go to your brother’s place. Tell him to pack his things and come here. He’ll stay the night and help us prepare.”

Her brother cocked his head. “Prepare for what?”

Fleur’s father tapped the table a few times, his brow knitted as he thought. When he spoke, it was with fierce determination.

“We’re leaving.”









When her father said they were leaving, Fleur had been afraid. She’d never been allowed to leave home for any reason, and now they were supposed to travel somewhere new. Would they go far? What dangers would they face? What if they left her behind? These and many other questions filled her head as her father and aunt talked into the night about what they would bring and where they might go.

Fleur tried to listen in from an out of the way place, but her father noticed and sent her to her closet. Now she lay under her blanket, trembling in the cold and fearing for her future. No matter how she pressed her ear to the wood and held her breath, all she could hear was indistinct mumblings.

Wanting to be responsible, Fleur set her pillow next to the door and put her mirror, brush and bowl on top of it. She could tie her blanket into a bundle to hold it, but for now she needed it for what little protection it could offer from the frigid air. With her belongings so stored, she would be able to wrap them up quickly in the morning when they called on her.

If they called on her.

A shiver ran through her, but it had little to do with the cold. Her heart sunk into her barrel, Fleur took the picture from her mirror and set it against the wall, her bowl pressed against it to keep the wind from blowing it away. That done, she lay down such that she could stare at her mother’s smiling face.

She wouldn’t speak. Speaking led to pain. But in her head, she recited the same thought over and over again.

Please, don’t let them leave me.

Trying her best to keep quiet, Fleur cried herself to sleep.









Thump.

Fleur woke with a start. Fear lanced through her heart, for the very first thing she suspected was that she overslept. The last time she’d overslept she’d been unable to walk for a week! She pressed her hooves tight around her muzzle to keep the apologies at bay. Apologies always led to worse punishments.

The silence clued her in. With ears perked, her head shifted one way, then another. Not a sound in the whole house other than the wind through the cracks in her closet. She peered outside and saw nothing but the night. She realized that it couldn’t possibly be time to leave, the sun wouldn’t be up for hours.

So what had woken her up?

Creak.

Her head whipped up to the ceiling, her ears at attention.

Silence.

Creak.

That wasn’t the typical sound her father’s hoofsteps made. Somepony was going up the stairs above her head, and they were trying to be quiet about it.

Someday that shadow may come for us all.

She wanted to scream, but every fiber of her being resisted. If it was this ‘shadow’ then she didn’t want to announce her whereabouts! But it might be going for her father and aunt. Shouldn’t she warn him somehow?

No. If she spoke without permission – if she made any sound at all – she would be punished. And if it wasn’t the shadow, that would make things so much worse. Yet she also couldn’t leave her closet without permission, so she had no way to know for certain! Her father could die, and… and…

And what? What would happen to her? Without her father to be her keeper, she could die anyway. Or maybe she would be taken away from this cold place. That couldn’t be a good thing… could it?

She didn’t want her father to die.

She didn’t want to be hurt.

If she didn’t help her father, she would be all alone.

If she did help him, he would hurt her for it.

He always hurt her.

Indecision cracked her fortitude, allowing the slightest of whimpers to escape her. She immediately slapped her hooves back over her muzzle, wide eyes darting to the ceiling.

Creak.

With a gasp, she turned for the door, but stopped herself before her hoof could reach it. An image of her father’s furious expression from the last time she went out without permission pushed her back. Trembling, struggling to keep her sobs as quiet as possible, she gathered up her threadbare blanket and buried herself as deep into the corner beneath the bottom stair as she could. Maybe if she made herself small enough, neither he nor the shadow would notice.

The world was quiet once more. Her eyes, shining with tears, stared out at the rest of her tiny little room under the stairs. Shafts of moonlight pierced the dark, decorated with the floating little dusties she sometimes counted as stand-in stars on cloudy nights. The darkness seemed to shift and she could swear something was in the room with her. Or maybe watching her from the cracks outside?

Fleur’s throat constricted. She fought so hard not to cry that she started choking. At any moment, some skeletal black pony would appear from the shadows to carry her away into Tartarus. Or perhaps the Nightmare would slither into her room via the moonbeams and gobble her up! Or perhaps it would be the vengeful spirit of the elk whose skin still lay in the tanning workshop, ready to stomp her to her doom and rip her skin off as penance.

She buried her face in her blanket. It wasn’t fair! She was just a worthless, weak filly. What did she do to be punished as well? It wasn’t like she wanted that poor elk’s carcass in her home!

Thump.

She froze, her eyes still blinded by the blanket. But her ears were free, and they turned upwards to the sound. She thought she could hear something. Something… muffled.

Snap.

She twitched at this new oddity. Following it was something distinct and terrible to hear, a protracted and thickly muffled sound that she suspected had little to do with the floorboards between her and her father’s room.

It sounded like somepony trying to scream.

Snap.

It came again, long and quiet but unquestionable. Fleur’s heart began pounding once more, her breathing coming in shallow gasps. What was she going to do? If her father was in trouble…

But if he wasn’t and she left her room…

But if he was and she did nothing…

Thump.

Thump.

Snap.

She nearly screamed.

Her father’s hoof came at her from the darkness. She winced, preparing for the blow…

It didn’t come. She peeked out of one eye and saw that she remained alone.

She promptly stuffed the filthy blanket into her mouth. She would not scream, she would not scream, she would not scream!

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

The sound repeated, again and again, growing louder with each successive bang. Fleur covered her ears as tears streaked down her face. She was dreaming, she had to be! She’d heard something scary and now her mind wanted to play mean games with her. There was no shadow pony, the Nightmare probably didn’t really eat little fillies, and the ghost of that poor elk was not in their house! Soon she’d wake and see the sun about to come out.

All she’d have to worry about then was to not make a sound. Or look anypony in the eye. Or walk too slowly. Or too quickly. Or not be useful. Or be in the way. Or leave her room without permission. Or—

A new sound forced its way past her hooves to pierce her ears: a scream. A real, horrible, prolonged shriek that filled the night with razors to slice into her head. Only a short lifetime of practice kept her from joining in.

A resounding bang shook the entire house, and the screaming abruptly stopped. Fleur held her breath, staring into the darkness of her blanket and listening as carefully as she could.

Hoofsteps. Fast hoofsteps.

The quietest of yelps escaped her as the door to her room opened. She couldn’t bring herself to look up. If it was the shadow, or the elk, or even the Nightmare, she didn’t want to know about it!

“Whatever you do, don’t make a sound.”

At that familiar voice, she promptly looked up. Her brother was kneeling within the closet, far too large for the small space. He had streaks of moisture running down his cheeks as he looked her in the eyes. His entire body trembled.

Was he… hiding? In here?

Her brother’s head drooped until his chin touched the floorboards. His voice came out so quietly that she almost didn’t hear it. “If you ever figured out how to pray, please do.”

Pray? She squeezed herself a little more tightly into the corner, clenching her teeth to keep them from chattering. Where was her father? Her aunt? If her brother was so scared…

Scritch, scritch.

They shared wide-eyed looks, then turned their attention to the wall.

Scritch. Scriiii~

The sound rolled across the wall, moving gradually for the door. A shadow passed over the crack beneath just as the sound stopped.

Everything was still. Only the wind betrayed their attempt at silence. Fleur’s mouth had dried, but her cheeks were soaked with frigid tears. She didn’t dare shout, not with her brother right there, but there was no stopping the trailing whine in her throat. Her brother had gone paler than the moon. Both kept their eyes locked on the door handle.

They waited.

And waited.

And waited some more.

Her brother began to loosen up. He heaved a deep sigh—

The handle turned.

Something snatched Fleur from her hiding place in a blur. Before she even knew what happened, she was dangling in the air between the door and her brother, held up in his white magic. “T-take her! Do whatever you want with her, I don’t care, just let me live!”

Fleur’s jaw fell, she sucked in air… and failed to scream.

This was entirely because the creature that appeared in her door wasn’t like anything she expected. For a shadow pony, he appeared remarkable healthy and un-bone-like. His coat wasn’t even black, but a mottled brown. His mane was black, though. Was that enough to make him a shadow pony?

The stallion – a unicorn – stared down at her with a startled expression. On his neck hung a black knife that swayed like a pendulum. Fleur gazed at it, feeling strangely mesmerized by its motions.

The stallion sat. The motion jarred her focus, and she met his eyes. They were red, and though they seemed to shine in the night they were anything but bright. Even though she knew she shouldn’t look others in the eye, that doing so meant severe punishment, she couldn’t look away. He seemed surprised and… uncertain.

“W-what the feather?” Fleur’s brother rose from where he’d been cowering. “Who are you? You’re not all that scary.”

Eyebrows lowered. Lips twisted into a scowl.

The necklace rose in a dark red aura.

A hoof smacked Fleur’s side, sending her flying against the wall. Even as she fell in a crumbled heap, she understood that it had been her brother’s hoof.

“You sorry son of a hydra! I’m going to—”

His words were cut off by something between a gasp and a gurgle. Clutching at her aching sides, Fleur slowly looked up. Her brother half-stood, half-sat before the stranger, who watched him with a cold frown of indifference.

The black knife had been buried to the hilt in her brother’s stomach.

Fleur’s breath caught. She made no attempt to move. She probably wouldn’t have managed it if she tried. Even when the knife pulled out and swam through the air in a neat arc to slice her brother’s cheeks open, she didn’t so much as flinch. Her stomach roiled as the blood poured out from the teeth of his loosely hanging jaw.

He screamed. It lasted about a second before the stranger threw a kick that knocked her brother’s head back so it bounced off the wall and cracked the boards. His body fell forward, only for his head to be caught in the stranger’s forehooves and slammed to the floor.

He moaned, legs twitching sporadically. Blood began to pool out from the splayed mess that was his mane.

The stranger’s hoof came down on the prone horn. It only took one stomp to break it off with a resounding snap. Her brother’s cry was weak, his trembling legs grasped at his skull. Still he didn’t get up.

The stranger bent low over him, lifted the horn from the blood-smeared floor. His eyes, hard and focused, locked with hers. He went still. The indecision returned, barely noticeable behind his solemnity.

Once again, the world grew quiet. Fleur pressed herself against the wall, unable to breathe as she gazed at the scene before her. Her brother’s blood continued to pool, slowly approaching her. As it nearly touched her hoof, she came to understand that she was about to die. This pony might appear normal, but there could be no doubt that he was the shadow pony her great grandmother had warned her father about.

The shadow had come. It wouldn’t spare her.

Her father…

Her aunt…

Her brothers…

One last thought hit her mind. It was a desperate thought, a hopeful plea, and feeble desire. She broke eye contact with the monster and looked to her insignificant bundle of possessions by the door.

As if in reaction, the stallion rose up and set the tip of the broken horn to the back of her weeping brother’s neck.

Fleur scrambled to the door even as she heard something go crunch. Choked gasping and gurgling filled her ears, but all her attention was on one thing. She caught the picture of her mother, still nestled tightly between the wall and her bowl, and pressed it to her chest. As tears began flowing once more, she curled into a ball on the floor and clutched the paper so hard it crinkled.

“Mommy! I’m sorry! I tried to be a good girl, I really did! I obeyed, I didn’t argue, I cooked, I cleaned, I didn’t talk. Even when they hit me, I didn’t talk! Please tell me I’m a good filly, please, please, please!”

No pain came. Maybe she was too distraught to notice whatever was happening to her. She just kept talking, talking because this would be her last chance to do so.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you, I swear I didn’t. Father and Brothers said it was my fault, and I’m so sorry, but I didn’t know! If I had known it hurt so much, I would have stayed a little nothing in your stomach, I promise! I wanted to be a good filly. I wanted to make you proud. I did everything father said I should, just for you. So please, when I see you, tell me I’m a good filly. That’s all I ever wanted!”

She kept rambling, not even sure what she was saying anymore. The moment seemed to stretch on into infinity. She kept waiting to see her mother’s face for real, to look upon her in the flesh for the very first time and know her smile. It would be the perfect smile. Her father said so, every time he reminded her of how she’d stolen it away. Why couldn’t she see that smile? Why hadn’t the shadow pony killed her yet?

Death. She wanted to die. To no longer be freezing, hurt or hungry. To be with somepony who loved her.

Because her mother would love her… wouldn’t she?

What if she didn’t?

Something touched the back of her head. She flinched, preparing herself for the pain and sweet oblivion. The hoof ran along her neck and down her back. It lifted. It came down again, retracing the same course. It did this again and again. Every time it came back to her head, she flinched, until she slowly came to realize what was happening.

She was being… petted.

Rubbing her eyes, Fleur raised her head. Through the blur of her vision she saw the stallion sitting beside her, tall and looming. When at last her vision cleared, she saw no anger or threatening solemnity. His ears were folded back, his eyes shifting at nothing. And still his hoof kept rubbing her back in that pleasant way.

She licked her lips and moistened her sore throat, but kept herself from speaking at the last moment. But then again…

Speaking meant punishment. Her father punished by hitting her. Would this stallion’s punishment be her death?

Thinking of her mother and how desperate she was to hear her voice, Fleur cleared her throat. “Aren’t you going to k-kill me?”

His eyes shifted to hers. He blinked, shook himself, swallowed. “I… Do you… Do you live here?”

Without taking her eyes from his, she nodded.

He heaved a long sigh. His hoof didn’t stop stroking her back. “I see.”

Silence passed between them. His gaze unfocused once more. She glanced back at his hoof, coming to realize that she really liked how he touched her. Her father and brothers, not even her aunt ever touched her like this. It was so new, so strange, so… nice. Why would he be nice to her?

“I killed them all.”

She shrank from him, eyebrows shooting up. He wouldn’t meet her gaze when he said, “That’s right. Him, his sister and two sons. They’re all dead. That was my job.”

Fleur’s legs grew weak. She slowly sank to her barrel, neck craned back so she could continue to gawk at him.

One more, he looked upon her. He reached a shaking hoof forward, touching her neck. “I should. I didn’t know about you, but… but I…”

His hoof remained poised at her throat, its tiny vibrations tickling her hairs. She refused to move for fear of provoking him.

No, wait… she wanted to die.

Didn’t she?

The hoof retreated. He heaved a shaky breath and shook his head, mumbling indecipherably. He turned for the door, began to leave.

Comprehension dawned upon her. Fleur jumped to her hooves. “Wait!”

He went stiff, already halfway through the door. Fleur couldn’t help hesitating; was he mad? She had spoken out of line, that should have earned her a strike. Yet he made no move to hit her. Why not?

She’d already risked so much, and this murderer had yet to harm her. Did she dare to try again?

“You… You’re supposed to kill me.”

No reaction. He didn’t even shift.

“I want you to.”

He stepped away before she even finished the sentence, moving with a jittery swiftness. Though the memory of every bruise she’d gained in her life told her not to follow, she forced her legs to move.

She paused at the door, gawking at the sight of her eldest brother lying on the couch. His legs were sprawled out wildly and his mouth gaped in a silent shriek. He didn’t appear to have any wounds, but his normally brown face was blue.

So… they really were all dead. Was she the only one left? And why was it that, when she gazed upon that disturbing face, she felt no great loss?

The stallion was approaching the door. With a gasp, she gave chase. “Why? Why won’t you kill me too?”

He said nothing. The door opened to the pull of his magic.

She scrambled after him even as the frigid wind of night cut into her flesh. “Please! You can’t leave me like this!”

At last he stopped. He turned around to give her a look that danced somewhere between frustration and confusion. “Don’t follow me.”

Disobedience meant pain.

She stood before him and gazed up with pleading eyes. “Kill me.”

His jaw dropped slightly, but he recovered quickly. “No.”

She moved a little closer, shivering in the cold air. “Then I’ll follow you.”

“You’ll die.”

“Good!” She didn’t know she could speak so much. Maybe the lack of violent retribution was loosening her tongue? But Fleur knew that this was the fastest way to get what she wanted, so she tried to imitate her father’s stomp and glare. “I want to be with Mommy. I want her to know how good I’ve been!”

With a  heavy sigh, the stallion walked back inside and closed the door. He sat before her, brow furrowed and lips pursed. She stared right back, trying her best to be intimidating. Her father was good at it, maybe she could be too.

Time passed. Neither pony spoke. The stallion was as stiff as skin on the rack. Fleur tried to be the same way, but she kept shivering in the cold and shifting to get comfortable. At any moment, she knew this stranger would strike her for being so impertinent. After all, she’d defied orders. Her father would have beaten her bad if she’d spoken like that to him.

At last, the stallion sighed. “Don’t follow me.” He made to stand, but when she braced he promptly sat back down with a groan. “You’re going to follow me anyway, aren’t you?”

She tensed on all fours, ready to run after him if necessary. She looked up at him with all the determination she could muster.

Rubbing his forehead with both hooves, he grumbled, “If you’re gonna follow me out there, the least you can do is wear your coat.”

Coat? What coat? She pondered this suggestion for a few seconds, trying to make sense of it. Then she nodded and hurried to her room, grabbing her blanket and throwing it over her shoulders. She ran back, surprised to find him still sitting there, and went back to her braced position with no less determination.

His eyebrows rose. “What is that?”

She smirked triumphantly. “My blanket.”

“A blanket.” His deadpan tone matched his expression. He lifted one corner of her blanket with his hoof and stared at the frayed edges and threading so bare it was almost see-through. “A blanket,” he repeated.

He looked into her eyes once more. Gradually, his disbelief was replaced by… was that concern? “This is a tannery.”

She cocked her head. “So?”

“Don’t you have anything better?”

Realizing he wasn’t going to try to get away, Fleur sat back and relaxed. She picked up the edge of her blanket and examined it uncertainly before looking back up at him. “Better?”

His lips twisting to a scowl, he walked past her for the tanning room. Realizing he might try to leave her through the back door, she hurried after him. He looked over the assorted furs and skins, examining them one at a time. She watched from the doorway, wondering what he was planning. Had he come here and killed her family just to steal some furs?

No, that was silly. If that were true, he wouldn’t have tried to leave earlier.

So… what was he doing?

“Let’s try this one.” He picked up the skin of a fox and brought it to her. She lowered her ears as he raised the skin in his magic and started to—

“No!” She danced out from underneath it, her heart hammering.

He cocked his head, tail flicking. “What’s wrong now?”

“I’m not allowed!” She shook her head frantically. “Th-those are for the clients. If father ever found me playing with his hides, he’d hang me by my tail on one of the racks!”

“Hang you by your—“ What started as a disbelieving attitude quickly shifted to silence as he looked in the direction of her room. He swallowed again before looking at her with wide eyes. “Did he… actually do that to you?”

She nodded, shivering from the memory and tucking her tail around herself. That had been such a horrid day.

The stranger closed his eyes and took a long, deep breath. When they opened again, they were hard. The fox skin hovered before her. “Wrap this around yourself.”

“B-but, my father—”

He growled through gritted teeth. “I. Killed. Your. Father.”

Fleur shrank back, staring up at him with wide eyes.

The stranger nodded. “I killed him. He’s dead. So is your aunt and two brothers. There’s nopony left in your family to listen to, so you will listen to me.” The fur fell to the floor. “Put it on.”

This was bad. He was making her do bad things! Her father…

Her father… couldn’t do anything to her anymore.

The thought was like being doused in frigid water. Her father was gone. Forever gone. He couldn’t hit her. He couldn't shout at her, or make her go to her room without food, or push her head underwater. He would never again tell her how useless she was, or stupid or weak or ugly.

Slowly, hooves trembling, she took the fur and wrapped around it herself. It was cool to the touch… but already she could feel herself warming up. Her legs danced, her eyes shifted to the door. Her ears lowered in anticipation of the shout that never came. She opened her mouth to apologize, but there was nopony to apologize to.

The stranger turned away from her. She watched him go, too stunned by her newfound… freedom? Was that what this was? Without her father, she couldn’t survive, right?

But without her father, she was wrapped in fox fur and starting to warm up.

A whole new world of possibilities sprang open before Fleur’s startled mind. She could say anything, go wherever, eat whatever! For the first time in her short little life, she had the option of choice, and nopony was going to punish her for it. She could enjoy a real bed, wear warm clothes, take hot baths, anything. So many options, so many chances.

Energy built within her long, thin legs. She pranced in place, her frown shifting into a smile, the smile into a grin. Her father was gone. Gone. Gone!

For her mother, she still had to be a good filly, but without her father, who was it that determined what ‘good’ was? Maybe there were other ways to define ‘good.’ Nopony ever said that her father’s way was the only way, or the best way. Well, her father suggested it, but—

Fleur gasped upon realizing that she was all alone. Hooves scrambling on the floorboards, she galloped through the house and out the open front door. She fell forward into the snow, only to jump back to her hooves and look around frantically. The snow, almost as tall as she was, gave her savior away in the form of a wide, clear path from his passing.

She hurried along the pale valley, pressing through where the snow had toppled and hoping the snowfall would stay light. If it got any stronger, it might bury the trail!

It didn’t take long to catch up. The stallion didn’t seem to notice her, so she fell into step behind him.

The sky was overcast and the darkness oppressive. She tugged her fox skin tighter around her shoulders, grateful that his path blocked much of the wind. How far had she already traveled? Farther than ever before, that much was certain. Would she come back? Where were they going? Maybe the stallion would kill her later.

She wasn’t so sure she wanted to die anymore.

In fact, she felt certain she’d changed her mind on that matter.

“Still going to follow me, eh?”

Fleur raised her head, but the stallion didn’t look back. She chose silence as the best response.

“I’m not going to kill you, you know.”

She smiled and nodded, even though he wouldn’t see it.

He heaved another of those long sighs. “Now what am I going to do with you?”

Having no good answer, she offered none.

They walked for several more minutes in silence. Fleur had no way to know where they were. Aside from the shadow of a tree every now and then, the world seemed to be nothing but a pale blanket of snow and darkness. Even so, a wave of contentment washed through Fleur’s body, warming like no fire had ever managed before.

She had a second chance. An opportunity to make up for her greatest mistake. Perhaps, if she followed this stallion, she would be able to repent the sin of having been born.

It was better than wasting away under the stairs.
> Book IV – Fleur de Lis: Walking with a Stranger
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------




One week. That’s all I got with Fine in the beginning, and then he was out of my life again. One week.

In such a short time, my life changed in ways I didn’t understand. The world was so very different from what I’d been taught. Maybe I didn’t have a roof over my head… but I’d never been so warm and my belly was always full. He let me do things that before would have gotten me beaten or would have cost me a day’s meal, and at the time I thought I was really getting away with things! It wasn’t until later that I realized my life before had been abnormal.

One week. That was all it took for my mind to be opened to a whole new world of possibilities. And when that week ended, I found I didn’t want to be separated from the one who, for all intents and purposes, rescued me. I didn’t just like him, he became everything to me.

He had no idea what he'd started. Neither did I.

—Fleur de Lis, Book of Shadows XLVIII,
June 9, 1007












October 11, C.Y. 986 
Griffa Plains, Central Grypha


Fleur  leaned over the front of the small boat, watching in quiet fascination as ice cold water swept past. She tried tracing the swirls and eddies and foam, but they moved in ways she couldn’t fathom. A large chunk of ice bumped against the dull brown hull. Curious, she reached down and bumped it with her hoof, examining how it twirled and bobbed before finally slipping past the flat front of the vessel.

“If you fall in, I’m not stopping to get you out.”

She pulled back slowly, setting her hooves down on the smooth hull beneath her. The boat rocked steadily back and forth in response to the paddle the stranger used to propel them against the river’s current. Fleur had already nearly fallen a dozen times, but she would always find herself distracted by something else. Just the idea of being on a boat was alien and new.

Her head turned to shore, which was covered in thin pine and fir trees. Her ears perked to the chattering of squirrels, another very new sound, and she sought them out with her eyes. There, two of them, wrestling on some high branches. She giggled at the site of one chasing the other in circles about the trunk. Sadly, they passed the scene swiftly, but Fleur merely redirected her curiosity elsewhere.

In this case, ‘elsewhere’ was the waters around the stranger’s paddle. She stared in rapt fascination as tiny whirlpools followed the paddle’s motions in the water. When it rose to arc forward, the droplets fell in rivulets that sounded like music and projected the light in strange ways. She knew she shouldn’t be so fascinated by mere water, but her attention didn’t waver as the paddle entered the water again, smooth and quiet.

After so many strokes, she turned her attention to the stranger. His entire body shook, but only a little, and his gaze was focused upon the waters ahead of them. He shifted frequently, making the boat rock in small motions, and his black tail was wrapped about his flank.

Fleur had seen that behavior enough times within herself to know what it meant. She cocked her head, then looked to the front of the boat. There was nothing ahead of them save more water and ice, the river turning gently through the thin woods.

She turned back to the stranger. “What are you afraid of?”

His eyes flicked to her. He spoke through gritted teeth. “I don’t like boats.”

“Oh.” She waited for him to elaborate. He didn’t. “Why?”

Another flick of the eyes. “Because I can’t swim.”

“Oh.” She looked over the side of the boat at all the ice. She could easily imagine falling in and freezing. Just the thought made her shiver. She turned back to him. “I can’t swim, too.”

“Then I suggest you sit still.”

“Oh.” She dropped to her haunches, wiggling a little to get comfortable. “Okay.”

Fleur had gathered the subtle ‘and be quiet’ of his intent, but for once she found it difficult to obey. Obedience had come so easy in the past, but with the loss of her father and brother, she felt as if a dam had burst open. She had the option to be herself, to say and do what she wanted. The desire, long bottled within her, now pried at her lips with eager, greedy claws.

She let out a long yawn, which reminded her how little sleep she’d had that night. Her eyes drifted to the Mare in the Moon, still visible through the thin trees and snowfall. It was low. Turning her attention the other direction revealed the same pre-dawn darkness she’d long grown accustomed to waking in. Morning would be upon them soon, and her head drooped as weariness pressed in. Should she take a nap?

But if she took a nap, she might shift around in sleep, and if she shifted too much she might unbalance the boat, and if she unbalanced the boat it might tip over, and then she and the stranger would drown or freeze or drown and freeze and it would be all her fault! She snapped her head up and straightened her back, steeling herself awake. Her gaze drifted to the stranger, who still had the same focus as before. Wasn’t he tired?

Fleur needed something to keep her eyes open, as a second yawn reminded her. So she asked, “Where are we going?”

She realized too late that she was probably supposed to be quiet. Tensing, she turned her face away and braced for the pain.

“Not much farther now.”

Her eyes opened wide. Slowly, she turned back to him. He wasn’t even looking at her, his gaze still focused on the river. Bolstered by his indifference, but dreading the potential consequences, she asked, “Why don’t you get mad?”

His muzzle screwed up with uncertainty. At last, he gave her his full attention. “Why would I be mad?”

Her ears folded back as she thought. “Because… I’m talking too much.”

The stranger gave a derisive sniff and refocused his attention on the river. “What would your father do in this situation?”

With a wince, Fluer turned away from him. “He’d hurt me, and not let me have breakfast. Or supper.”

“What about lunch?”

She drooped. “I’ve never been allowed to have lunch.”

The quiet splashes of the paddle and the crunch of ice against the hull decorated the quiet between them. She wondered if the stranger was considering following her father’s example.

“Well,” he said at last, “I am not your father.”

No, he wasn’t. She kept having to remind herself of that. Though she didn’t understand why, he wouldn’t harm her for any of the things that she was used to.

There’s nopony left in your family to listen to, so you will listen to me.

She shuffled in place, words on the tip of her tongue. A glance back showed him still focused on the river. Even as she turned forward, however, she felt the boat shift into a new direction. Her gaze fell upon a rapidly approaching shoreline among the trees. In the steadily building light of dawn, she could just make out a small something hidden behind the branches. Although she’d never seen one before, she soon recognized it as a tent.

The front of the boat plowed into the muddy shore, the force of the impact nearly toppling her. Within seconds, the stranger had climbed out, and she heard him issue a long sigh. He turned back to her and frowned. “Come on, out.”

Fleur climbed to the edge of the boat quickly; it seemed like an oddly long fall. Despite a few butterflies in her stomach, she crouched low, wiggling her tail in the air as she prepped, then jumped down. Her knees bent upon landing, cushioning the blow, but her hooves slipped a little in the slick mud. She barely managed to avoid a face full of the stuff.

There was a loud thunk, and when she looked back the boat was drifting away on the current, heading back in the direction they came. The stranger was trotting for the tent by the time she turned back to him. With a spark of his horn, some sticks rose from a pile nearby, landed in a neat new pile before the tent, and sparked. The fire was small, but Fleur hurried to it in hopes of gathering what warmth she could.

The stranger disappeared in the tent. Fleur huddled by the fire and yawned loudly, her ears twitching to the sound of something banging behind the canvas. A moment later, a large skillet and a bag floated out of the tent, followed by the stranger.

Fleur’s weariness dissipated in an instant. “Are you going to make breakfast?”

He merely grunted, but Fleur had heard her brother make the same sound enough times to know that this was meant to be a ‘yes.’ She hopped to her hooves and beamed. “Can I cook? I’m really good at it. Dad made me cook every meal!”

“No.” The stallion set three short, Y-shaped rods in the ground around the fire, then set a triangular metal plate atop them. The result resembled a makeshift stove, on which he set the skillet.

Fleur’s smile faded and her shoulders sagged. “A-are you sure? I promise, I won’t mess up.”

He began mixing ingredients in the skillet, including things like lettuce, tomatoes and some kind of grass Fleur didn’t recognize. “You’re not my slave. I don’t need you to cook for us.”

“But… But…” She stared at the skillet, then at him, then back again. Something welled up in her, making her eyes burn. “I wanted to be useful. You saved me, and I…”

Her own words struck her. She stared up at the stranger, lips trembling as the understanding finally, truly dawned on her. “You… You saved me.”

The stranger shifted uncomfortably, eyes flicking her way for the barest instant. He focused on the skillet.

Fleur didn’t try to stop herself, and before she knew it she was pressed against his side. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she rubbed her head against him. “You saved me. You saved me! I owe you so much. P-please, I can cook. I can… I can clean! I have to do something for you. Please!”

He scowled at her from the corner of his eye. “That’s enough.”

“But I—”

He pulled away from her, eyes hard and expression like stone. “Let’s get one thing straight: you are not going to be staying with me long. As soon as I find the right place for you, you will stay there.”

She opened her mouth to object, but his expression darkened and she promptly closed it again. She bowed her head, but didn’t break eye contact.

“I am not the good guy in this story,” he continued, turning back to the skillet. “I am a monster, and you don’t want to be anywhere near me for very long. I don’t want you trying to repay me for being something so… vile.”

Fleur listened to this with a heavy heart, but before the implications of his words could strike, something else came to mind. She looked up at him, ears perking once more as she looked back on the night. “That doesn’t make sense.”

He heaved a sigh. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah! If you’re a monster, why didn’t you kill me? You were supposed to, weren’t you?”

The hardness of his eyes cracked. He tensed up. Then, after several seconds of stillness, he sagged and released a long breath. “You’re awfully observant for a little kid.” He stirred the skillet with a wooden spoon. “What’s your name?”

Sitting up straight and offering her best smile, she replied, “Fleur.”

His brow furrowed. He turned to her with an expectant expression. “That’s it?”

“Um… yes?” She thought about it, then added bashfully, “Fleur Purpurnyj?”

He blinked a few times, then shook his head and went back to his cooking. “Weird. Almost every single name I’ve come across in Grypha has been some Goddess-awful pile of syllables and nonsense. Even the name of your town was ridiculous. And you’re just ‘Fleur’?”

She rubbed her hooves together, cheeks burning. “Father says my m-mother named me. Before I killed her.” When he froze, she leaned forward. “Is it a… bad name?”

He remained silent for a few seconds, staring wide-eyed into the skillet as if it held something terrible within its shallow depths. “He told you that you… killed her?”

“I did kill her.” She stared at the snow around her hooves, her entire body heavy. “I did. She’s dead. It’s my fault.”

He continued to gaze at the skillet. Time passed. He stirred the sizzling food, levitated out two wooden plates, and separated the food between them. Then he turned and hovered a plate just beneath her muzzle. Upon seeing it, her eyes widened; he had to have given her an equal share.

“I like your name.”

He was really giving her so much? Gingerly, she took the plate in her hooves. “Thank you.”

“The first name, that is.” He turned away from her. “That last one needs to go.”

“I… I won’t mind.” She eyed the meal, a hodgepodge of ingredients that appeared to be mixed haphazardly. She took her first bite slowly, dreading what might assault her taste buds. The food was crunchy… but surprisingly flavorful. Had he added spices without her noticing? And that strange grass had a powerful hit in its taste that she’d never experienced before. She took her second bite with much greater emphasis.

As she worked on her simple but tasty meal, she reflected on the stranger. He was indeed strange, claiming to be bad but acting so kind. Sparing her life, letting her come with him, keeping her warm. Even this simple meal was more than she could have expected on any given day with her father and brother. This stallion… Nopony had ever treated her so well.

As the last bite slid down her throat, she recognized a new desire. It was like appreciation, only… stronger.

“Alright,” he said, putting his plate down by the fire, “time to get some sleep.”

She eyed the rising sun, but the words that escaped her had nothing to do with it. “What’s your name?”

He paused, hoof raised for the tent. He glanced back.

“You don’t need to know that.”

He disappeared inside.

Fleur watched him go, lips curled in a frown and shoulders sagging. What was wrong with a name? With a sigh, she began lowering to the ground—

The tent flap opened. “Are you coming, or what?”

“Huh?” Their eyes met, hers wide and his narrowed. They remained that way for a while, Fleur struggling to understand what he meant. She cast her eyes around at the snowy world, then back at him.

At last, his shoulders sagged. “You were actually going to sleep out there, weren’t you?

Fleur stared at the ground, her forelegs shuffling in the snow-covered dirt. “Where else would I sleep?”

“In the tent!” He shoved the flap open a little wider and gestured with a shift of his head.

“B-but, that’s where you’re sleeping.” She turned her face away even as she curled up. She taken this position many a time in the past. It was reflexive, not unlike how she closed her eyes in preparation for pain. “I can’t. I’m not allowed. I’m—”

Something jerked her hooves forward just enough to force her to stand. When she looked up, the stallion was standing over her with a scowl that, against everything she knew, actually put her father’s to shame. She stepped back, blood chilling as the stallion’s hard red eyes bored into her own.

“Now listen,” he snarled. “I don’t know what made you think coming with me was a good idea, but since you did, I’m going to teach you a few things. You’re not going to be with me very long and you’re going to need some basic survival skills. Look at me.”

Fleur’s head froze, half-turned away. Though she trembled, she forced her eyes to open. His glare was almost enough to make her curl up into a ball and sob. Her lip quaked almost as much as her legs.

But when he spoke next, his tone had softened. He set a hoof to her chin and forced her to look directly at him. “First lesson: the one who breaks eye contact first, loses. You’re going to have to be strong, Fleur. Your father and brothers aren’t around anymore, they can’t control your life, and that means you have to learn to fend for yourself. You need to make the decisions.”

She tried to relax. His eyes weren’t so hard anymore, she should be able to relax. But her legs still shivered and her heart still hammered. “B-but I’ve never had to make decisions.”

He stood to his full height, expression solemn. “You’ll learn. You’ll learn, or the world will gobble you up. Second lesson: stand up for yourself. Where do you want to sleep?”

Her mouth opened and closed a few times. A hard wind penetrated her makeshift coat with all the intensity of an icy talon. Yet her mind didn’t focus on the chill; the stranger had asked her to make a decision. No, more than that: he asked what she wanted. For the first time in her life, somepony asked, and she had no idea what to say.

She looked to the tent. Her body begged for salvation from the cold winds, but could she tell him that? Maybe this was a test. Maybe he really didn’t—

“Look at me.”

Her eyes snapped to his face. His expression hadn’t changed.

“Look me in the eye,” he whispered. “See me not as some ‘master,’ nor as a ‘savior.’ Look at me. Think about what you want. Don’t think about anything else. You are your own pony now. You have needs. You have wants.”

He bent low so his muzzle was almost touching hers. His eyes filled her vision.

“What. Do you. Want?”

She flicked a glance at the tent. Only a glance. She licked her lips and cleared her head. Pain… Pain was probably coming, but she had to do as he said. So, with a ball of ice in her stomach, Fleur licked her lips and said, “I want to sleep in the tent.”

He continued to stare. She stared right back, tail tucked between her legs. He didn’t attack. He didn’t speak. She could hardly tell he was breathing.

Then he stood up straight and stepped aside. With a small gesture at the tent, he said, “Alright. Go ahead.”

She waited for the caveat. Or perhaps laughter. None came. Not daring to hope, she began to walk slowly, carefully for the tent. She kept her body low and her eyes on him, her breath coming in small gasps that steamed between them.

Her hoof touched the floor of the tent. It was such an unfamiliar, unexpected sensation that she jerked her leg back. She studied the brown, unfamiliar material then looked to the stranger. He nodded.

A light kicked on in Fleur’s mind. Heart humming, she hurried inside before he could change his mind. The wind stopped entirely, and though she wasn’t warm, she did feel far more comfortable. The tent was loaded with the stranger’s travelling pack, but she managed to sit herself down in a corner. Although excitement coursed through her veins, she didn’t dare show her enthusiasm; there was still a good chance the stranger would have a change of heart.

She watched as he stepped in and closed the tent flap, blocking out the morning light and the chill wind. He stretched, yawned and settled on the floor, already curling up for sleep.

Fleur didn’t move. She didn’t speak. She almost didn’t breath. What if making a sound disturbed him? There was precious little space in the tent; what if she curled up for sleep and bumped him? If she did anything to disturb his sleep, he might toss her back outside! No, better to sit there and wait. Maybe if she—

“Hey.”

With a blink, she saw him watching her from the corner of his eye. “Y-yes?”

“Get some sleep. You need it.”

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she nodded. Moving with utmost care, making sure to be as quiet as possible, she began to lower herself down.

“Oh, for the love of Equestria…” He caught her in his magic and pulled her forward.

Fleur yelped and tried to scramble away. “I’m sorry, I’ll be good! Don’t throw me outside, I promise I won’t—”

Her words died as he nestled her against his body. She could only gape as he curled for sleep once more, surrounding her in his own warmth. She kept perfectly still, not sure what to say or do or think about this sudden development. Her father and brothers had never done something like this for her. Was she supposed to do something?

It was… really comfortable.

She released a long yawn, then slapped a hoof over her lips. The stranger didn’t stir.

She lay there, eyes on his face. His lips were curled in a frown, his brow furrowed. But, as time passed, his grimace began to fade. Soon his breathing became rhythmic.

It took time for Fleur to realize that she was safe. It took longer for her to smile. She closed her eyes, pressed against his delightfully warm body.

For the first time in her life, Fleur stopped worrying.










October 15, C.Y. 986 
Griffa Plains, Central Grypha


Fleur jerked awake, just barely managing to stifle her shout. She stared into the darkness, but in truth she didn’t even see that. Her mind’s eye was still on her father’s hoof pressing against her throat. The sensation of it against her skin, the way her breath stopped, how her lungs ached for air…

The stranger’s voice cut through the illusion. “Another one.”

The world came into focus, revealing the shadowy interior of a barn. Bright light streamed through the window of the loft they’d hidden in, the beams revealing the lazily drifting dust that filled the air. With cheeks flushed, she turned her face away from the stranger, who lay not a foot away from her.

Fleur shifted from side to side, her forehooves kneading at the hay. Guilt swelled within her, but she couldn’t bring herself to apologize. After so many times, the words were beginning to feel rote, as if they held no meaning anymore. How much sleep had they lost because of this?

The stranger asked, “Were they always this bad?”

She shook her head.

“What changed?”

With no answers to give, she merely stared at her hooves.

“That wasn’t as direct as you’re thinking.”

A blink. Her brow furrowed, Fleur turned her head to study him. His face was an unreadable mask, which didn’t help her situation at all. Not knowing what to say, she merely kept staring.

He closed his eyes and tilted his head back. His chest expanded in a long breath. He nodded. “Tell me something, Fleur; are you glad you’re here?”

Fleur perked her ears. “I am.”

“Really?”

She might have shouted the answer were they not hiding. “Really.”

He opened his eyes. “Tell me why.”

Another blink. Did he really want her to talk about it? He’d never shown much interest in the last four days. She ran the topic through her head, wondering how much detail she should offer. There was so much to say. Thoughts that had been drifting through her mind ever since that night. She’d kept quiet about all of it, though, suspecting that he didn’t want to hear it. Now that he’d expressed an interest, she feared she might say more than he wanted to hear.

He let out a yawn, which prompted her to speak. “B-because of you.”

When he came out of the yawn, his face had lost its control; he appeared tired. So very, very tired. And she was responsible for that. She turned her face away once again.

“Eye contact.”

Fleur forced herself to look him in the eye, doing her best not to appear guilty. She had no idea if she was doing a good job.

“Now, because of me.” He tilted his head in a lethargic motion. “Explain.”

She almost looked down. Almost. Somehow she managed to stop herself, even though her cheeks burned and her stomach felt funny. She tried to think of the first thing to say, but all she managed was, “You don’t hurt me.”

“Hmm.” He nodded.

Fleur found her lips moving once again. “You let me make decisions. A-and… let me be warm. And today you let me take a bath. With hot water.” She smiled at the memory. “You let me speak. You didn’t get mad when I messed up breakfast this morning. I can move, I can think, I can speak, I can breathe and you won’t hurt me for it.”

As she spoke, her words came faster and with greater confidence. She raised her head and grinned. “I’m free. You set me free. I don’t care if we’re always walking, or we sometimes sleep outside, or that we always leave at night when it’s so cold. I have so much more, more than I could have, more than I wanted! I—”

His hoof pressed to her muzzle, stifling the flow of words. His face did a curious dance with itself – brow furrowing, lips twitching between smiles and frowns – but his eyes were soft and spoke clearly. He’d never had such warmth in them before. They made Fleur’s little heart melt.

At last, he managed to speak. “Getting a little loud there.” He retracted his hoof as his features finally settled into a small smile. “If you’re so happy, why are you so afraid?”

She opened her mouth… and said nothing. Her excitement faded once more, drifting away as she thought and thought, but no answer could come to her. At last she shrugged. “I don’t know, but I keep dreaming of my father and brothers.”

The stranger nodded. “I think I know. I think you’re afraid that you might wake up and find that all of this isn’t real.”

Her ears lowered.

“That you imagined me up, and you’re still living under those cold stairs.”

Her eyes dropped to her hooves.

“And that just when you’ve finally escaped, your family will be there, ready to drag you back into the dark and the misery.”

Her lips trembled, her throat ached, her eyes burned. Once more, she felt a hoof pressed to her throat. She could see the cold indifference in her brothers’ eyes, the distaste in her aunt’s, the frigid hatred of her father.  It was almost enough to make her scream.

Hooves pressed atop her shoulders. She looked up to see the stranger smiling. An open smile, warmer than any smile she’d ever seen in her entire life.

“It’s over, Fleur. They will never touch you again.”

And when she looked into his eyes and saw the honesty behind them, Fleur knew that she believed him. She believed every word, and it was beautiful and captivating and empowering all at once. Her worries, her fears, her hesitations were quelled by this stranger. Her shackles had been cut, but she’d yet to throw them away.

Here, with his strong hooves on her shoulders and a kind smile she’d never seen before on his face, she felt she could leave them behind at last. The realization – the sheer comprehension – softly creeped into her mind. It welled within her belly, churned up her throat and pushed into her skull before finally bursting forth from her eyes as tears. The next thing she knew, she’d buried her head in his shoulder and begun sobbing.

The stranger went stiff. She barely noticed. She was too happy to notice. She wrapped her forelegs around his neck and wept as she’d never wept before.

Eventually, his own legs wrapped about her. He offered no more words.

She needed none.










October 17, C.Y. 986 
Stalliongrad


They stood atop a tall cliff, staring down into the snow-covered landscape. To the east stood sheer walls that marked the southern tip of the Nyebo Pyero Range. The north was covered in hills, many of which hosted cattle ranches, and to the west the Skoleya river lived up to its name by snaking through a long, wide valley dotted with farmland. And in the center, before the wide eyes of a six-year-old filly, a city arose.

Fleur, having never even left her father’s house in her short life, could only stare in stark amazement at the sight of a proper city. Its buildings, taller than anything she’d ever known, were circular brown columns with layer upon layer of disks, to and from the edges of which griffons the size of specks flowed. There were also shorter, rectangular buildings, but these paled in comparison to the alien shapes towering to the heavens. Fleur tried to count the dots of creatures moving about, but quickly gave up.

She shook her head to clear it, then turned to the stranger. “Are we going in there?”

He nodded even as he took his fist steps down the hill and out of the forest. “Stalliongrad. It’s the only city in Grypha with a noticeable pony population. It was founded specifically to be the main thoroughfare between Grypha and Equestria, hence the Equestrian name.”

She hurried to catch up, her attention still set upon the distant city. “But I thought you wanted to avoid others.”

“Normally, yes.” He noted her struggling to keep up his pace and slowed down. “But right now, we need to be there.”

Fleur kept close to him, her tail curling about one of his hind legs. “But it looks so big. What if we get lost?”

The stranger shrugged. “We won’t get lost. I’ve been there before. Besides, I have to go there to report on my mission, and to get back to Equestria.” He shuddered before adding, “I’m not looking forward to that trip.”

Tearing her gaze from the distant structures, she cast a concerned look his way. “Why? Is it dangerous?”

He glanced back at her. At first, he held a hard scowl… but then it softened. “You don’t know much about geography, do you?”

She cocked her head. “Geowhat?”

The stranger chuckled and shook his head. “Geography. The study of locations, maps, things like that. Anyway, there’s an ocean between Equestria and Grypha.”

With a gasp, she cried, “You mean you have to get on a boat to go home?”

The scowl returned. “That’s what it means.”

“But you don’t like boats!”

“Well unfortunately, it’s not up to me.” He snorted, steam billowing up into the air. “I go where I am told, and keep my complaints to myself.”

She wanted to complain in his stead, but didn’t want to be annoying. Even so, she didn’t like the idea. After some thought, she skipped a little closer and pressed her cheek to his side. “I’ll stay with you. Keep you from being scared?”

The stranger paused, his head turning back. He stared at her as if she were a strange and unusual creature rather than another pony. She looked back, trying to emphasize how serious she was through her eyes.

He sighed and resumed his walk. “You would, wouldn’t you?”

“Of course!” She trotted ahead so she could look back at his face. “You’re my hero. I owe you. I want to help.”

“Not with this, Little Miss.” He blinked, eyebrows rising. He moved his lips, rolled his chin, moved his lips again. “Huh. I like that.”

“Like what?”

“Nothing.” He smiled, something he’d been doing more often lately. “Look, you can’t come to Equestria with me.”

She jumped in front of him. “Why not? I want to go!”

“What we want is seldom what we get.” He stepped casually around her. “You coming with me won’t end well for anypony.”

She trotted after him, a block of ice lodged in her chest. “Then what am I going to do? I don’t know what to do. I need you.”

“What you need is somepony capable who can take care of you. That’s not me.” He gestured to Stalliongrad. “I’m going to drop you off in the city.”

“But I don’t want to live in the city!” She grabbed his tail between her teeth, fully prepared to pull on it, but promptly spit it out. Gagging, she sat and began rubbing her tongue with both hooves.

The stranger, stride unbroken, giggled at her expression. “Yeah, I don’t imagine hair dye tastes too good.”

Gritting her teeth, she thought carefully over the problem. A solution came to her quickly, but she hesitated; using magic without permission had always been taboo. But… it was only taboo because her father said so, right? And the stranger did say she should act on her own from now on. Did that include magic?

He was getting away! Deciding to take the risk and test one of her newfound freedoms, Fleur lowered her head and concentrated on his tail. It was soon encased in a pink aura, to which she gave a firm tug.

The stranger paused, his hind legs shifting to account for the unexpected pull. He looked to his tail, then cast a deadpan look at her. “Fleur…”

“I want to go with you!” She leveled him with her hardest glare.

“Let my tail go.”

“Not until you say I can go!”

The scowl returned, but for once it had no effect on Fleur. She gritted her teeth and focused on the magic, determined not to let go.

The stranger reached back to tug on his tail. When it didn’t move, his eyebrows lowered. Then, his own horn shined, his red aura mixing with her pink one around the tail. She could feel his magic pulling against hers, but she resisted. She didn’t really understand how she was resisting, but she did it anyway.

Seconds passed as their two auras swirled around one another. Fleur concentrated, working to keep her magic intact. For having no idea what she was doing, she found it surprisingly easy.

The stranger’s expression shifted from frustration to annoyance, then curiosity. He eyed her, then let the magic die from his horn. “You’re pretty good for your age.”

The compliment caught her off guard, her eyes widening and her cheeks going hot. “Really?”

“Yep.” He turned to her, tail still stuck in the air by her magic, and peered at her horn. “Most fillies your age are just figuring out how to use their horns, and you can already play tug-of-war with an adult. Who taught you?”

The burning in her cheeks intensified. Her horn flickered and died, and his tail dropped back to its normal position. “I… uh… watched my father and brothers.”

His stare shifted to incredulity. “You mean you taught yourself.” When she nodded, he looked away and muttered something under his breath about feeling ‘inadequate,’ whatever that meant.

She tapped her forehooves together, ears folded back. “Is that… bad?”

He flinched and quickly turned back to her. “No, not at all! It’s impressive. I couldn’t use my magic that well at your age.”

She beamed, approaching him at a canter. “So does this mean I can come?”

The stranger laughed and shook his head. “No.” He pressed a hoof to her muzzle as she pouted. “But it does suggest you have some special skill relating to magic. You’re going to need to learn it properly.”

She brushed his hoof aside and gazed up at him with a wide-eyed, pleading expression. “But why can’t you teach me?”

“I’m not going to be around long enough. Ah—” He raised his hoof to silence her before she could speak. “And I’m not bringing you with me.”

She threw her hooves high. “Then who’s going to teach me?!”

“You’ll go to school, just like the other fillies and colts.”

Her anger faded in an instant, replaced by slack-jawed disbelief. “You mean I’ll meet other ponies? Other… foals?”

He turned to resume his march for the city. “That’s right. You’re going to be living with them, in fact. It’ll be nice to have foals your age to play with for a change, right?”

Would it? The idea left her feeling… ill. “B-but, what do I say? What do I do? I’ve never even seen foals my age.”

“What about cubs? Surely you’ve met a cub or two your age?”

Fleur stared at her hooves, but began to follow. “Not really.”

He cast another look back at her, but it was only the briefest glance. “Well, you will now. Don’t worry, it’ll come naturally.”

She hoped so. She really did. “Do I have to stay? I can help you.” She trotted to catch up, eagerness rising in her voice as she spoke. “I can carry things, and cook and be quiet and… and… and lots of things!”

He didn’t so much as slow down. “I’m sure you can.”

She broke into a gallop, sliding to a stop in front of him and rearing back to press her forehooves to his chest. “Please! I want to stay with you!”

He kept going, pushing her aside with an ease that made her feel foalish. She watched him pass, lips trembling and heart aching. What didn’t he understand?

“Please.” She rubbed at her stinging eyes. “I feel safe with you. Please.”

With a groan, he finally turned back to her. She fought with her tears in order to stare up at him, and he stared right back with a frown combining annoyance and concern. Time stretched on as they gazed at one another, Fleur not daring to speak, and the stranger not breaking eye contact. She silently begged him to listen, to accept her, to give her the protection and love she so desperately desired.

That thought hit her hard, and she reeled as if struck in the head. Love? Was it love she was seeking? That hadn’t occurred to her before. But now, on the side of this hill, her legs shivering in the snow and a strange, frightening city full of frightening, strange creatures so close, it seemed obvious. Her father, brothers and aunt had always denied her that one simple, precious thing. And now that she’d met somepony who might, maybe be able to offer it to her, she was supposed to let him slip through her hooves?

The idea was too terrible to contemplate.

“Please,” she whispered, leaning forward a little. “I want to be with you.”

He sucked in a long breath before pressed a hoof to his forehead and scowling. “I don’t take care of foals.”

“I can take care of myself.” She stepped a little closer. “You don’t have to watch over me. I just want… I want…” Why was it so hard to say?

The stranger stepped forward. He placed his forehooves on her shoulders, eyes never leaving hers. There was a sadness to his gaze, a longing that she hoped and prayed would work in her favor. She let out a weak gasp when he dropped down to hug her tightly.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered in her ear. “I can’t give you what you want. I just… can’t. I wish I could. You’re going to have to adapt and be strong on your own, Little Miss.”

Fleur rested her chin on his shoulder, tears dripping to her cheeks. “I just want somepony to love me.”

“I know. Believe me, Fleur, I know.” He nuzzled her neck. She thought she heard him sniff. “It’s not me. I’m not capable of that kind of thing.”

“Are you sure? Really sure?”

He pulled back and gave her a sad smile. “I’m a monster, Fleur. Monsters don’t love. They only destroy. If you stay with me, it’ll kill you. I can’t let that happen. That’s why you have to stay here.” He cupped her chin with a hoof and raised her head. “Do you understand?”

She didn’t. She didn’t understand at all. She wanted to shout at him, to demand he let her come with him, but knew it would do no good. Everything was going over her head, and she hated it.

She felt like screaming. Instead, she forced herself to whisper, “I… understand.”

His smile gained a wry slant to it as he patted her head. “Good girl.”

And he turned away, marching for the city at the same gait as always. Fleur rubbed her eyes and followed, hooves shuffling in the snow.









Her freedom was slipping through her hooves. Fleur knew it without having any direct evidence of it. She could just feel the hooves of her father’s, brothers’ and aunt’s ghosts grasping at her body, ready to drag her into a fresh new life of misery and isolation. The pain in her chest brought to mind their teeth chewing feverishly upon her heart.

She sat on a bench in a short hallway made of ugly yellow brick. If she perked her ears just right she could hear children playing upstairs, but there was no angle by which she could hear the conversation currently being had behind the closed door opposite her. There was a wide plague on the door, but she couldn’t read what it said. Her father never taught her how.

Fleur pondered the situation carefully, desperate to find something, anything to change what was happening. The noise upstairs didn’t help matters. She wished the children would just be quiet so she could think. That’s what she needed, time to think.

The stranger was in that room right now, arranging to leave her in this place. How could he? After all the time they’d spent together, he couldn’t just walk away. But that was exactly what he planned to do. Why? She could be brave. She could be smart. How was she supposed to learn to survive like he wanted without him there to teach her?

She clutched a book in her forelegs, keeping it pressed tight to her chest. It was a book about magic. He’d taken it from a local library so that she could learn on her own for a while. He didn’t seem to understand that she didn’t want to learn on her own.

Tears threatened to break free. She closed her eyes and brushed them with a fetlock. The sensation of the ghosts clawing at her back intensified. Already she could see herself, lying alone in some dark room, nopony to talk to, nopony to love and appreciate her. It would be like her father’s house all over again. But this time, no shadow pony was going to rescue her, for it was the shadow pony that put her here.

He couldn’t do this to her!

Click.

She looked as the door opened on squeaky hinges. The stranger stepped out, his expression unreadable. A gold and orange griffon, the silver of age decorating his wings and fur, followed behind. The griffon carried one of his hind legs carefully, and she noticed a long, featherless scar just above his knee.

Fleur brushed the tears from her face and focused her attention on the stranger, dread eating away at her.

The stranger gestured to the griffon. “Fleur, this is Myagkey Kluv, the headmaster. He’s the one in charge of the orphanage.”

The griffon gave her a smile that seemed sad, although she suspected he hadn’t meant it to be. “A pleasure to meet you, young filly. You may call me Kluv; everyone does. Unless you’re a bad child, then you call me ‘Old Fartfeather’ and I teach you manners.” He chuckled and offered his claw.

Fleur stared at the appendage, then turned her wide-eyed, pleading gaze upon the stranger.

The stranger heaved a long sigh. “Give us a moment.”

Kluv flinched as if the stranger had struck him and retreated a step. “Of course. I’ll be in the next room.”

As soon as he entered the front lobby, the stranger’s shoulders sagged and he gave Fleur an exasperated look. “You knew this time was coming.”

“I hoped you’d change your mind.” She studied her hooves. “You were supposed to change your mind.”

He dropped to his knees to be level with her. “It was never my decision. This is for the best, Fleur.”

“No, it’s not!” She glared at him through blurry eyes. “Best for who? It’s not the best for me!”

Brow furrowed, he considered her. It wasn’t a look of anger or frustration, though; it felt more like a curious study. At last, he spoke. “Fleur, don’t you remember? It was my job to kill all members of the Purpurnyj family. I was supposed to kill you.”

She crossed her hooves and pouted. “But you didn’t. Why didn’t you? You can’t leave me.”

“I have to.” He nuzzled her, and she did her best not to enjoy the sensation. “Understand, Fleur, please. I was supposed to kill you. If they find out I didn’t, they’ll send someone else to do it. If you go with me, they’ll find out. You must stay far away from me, in a place that nopony will look.”

He pressed his hoof to her heart. It felt strangely warm, just like the smile he now sported. “I met a scared, weak little filly. That filly is dead. You are a new pony, Fleur, able to change your life. If you stay here, you will go on to be something far better, brighter and happier than what you used to be. I have faith in that.”

All bitterness fled her. The ghosts holding her soul lost some of their grip as she stared at him. “You… You really think so?”

He nodded, then wrapped her in a tight hug. “Don’t tell anypony I said this, but I’m going to miss you, Little Miss.”

She wrapped her long legs around his neck, holding on as tightly as she could. This was it. He was about to leave, and there was nothing she could do about it. The tears threatened to come back, but she wasn’t ready to give up just yet.

“W-will I ever see you again?”

He replied quickly. “Probably not. I’m going far away.”

She squeezed a little more tightly. “But, if I work hard and get to be better… Is there a chance?”

His hesitation could be felt in the way his hold on her stiffened. She closed her eyes and prayed for the right answer.

“M… Maybe. I wouldn’t count on it.”

The teeth squeezed on her heart. “You could always come back. To visit?”

He was silent for a while. She didn’t speak, afraid to push him away with words.

“We’ll see. I can’t promise you anything. To be honest… I don’t think so. But—” He stepped back and pressed his hoof to her heart again. “Don’t ever give up hope. Be strong for me, alright?”

Without waiting for an answer, he turned away. She watched him go at first, stomach twisting into ugly knots.

Then a thought occurred to her. “Wait!”

The stranger stumbled and nearly fell. With a fresh sigh, he shot a frustrated look over his shoulder.

Fleur rubbed her hooves together, cheeks burning even as she hoped he’d answer. “Please, can I… Can I at least know your name?”

His features softened, his eyebrows rose. He turned away, but didn’t resume his walk. Fleur leaned forward, licked her lips, and waited.

After what seemed like an eternity, he spoke.

“My name is Fine Crime.”

With those as his parting words, he walked out of the hall and her life.
> Book IV – Fleur de Lis: Into One's Own?
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------




Hero Complex — Noun

A mental state in which a pony develops an inflated sense of adoration towards an individual or group of individuals that elevates them above their station and/or reasonable, realistic expectations.

That was me, alright. It almost sounds childish, reading it right out of a dictionary. I knew I might never see him again, but I literally dreamed of getting that chance. There was nothing I wouldn’t have done, no act I wouldn’t have committed. My every action was dictated by the feverish need to exceed his expectations, to draw his attention and pull him to me from the shadows. I just knew that he was watching me, waiting for the right moment. Sometimes I spoke to him at night, wishing that he would someday speak back from the darkness. It was all so juvenile.

But then, I was a child.

—Fleur de Lis, Book of Shadows XLVIII,
June 10, 1007












February  17, C.Y. 987 
Stalliongrad


Crack

The teenage griffon let out a wail as he jerked his fist back from the solid beam he’d just punched. He sat and clutched the broken appendage, tears streaming down his beak. The other cubs and foals backed away from him, jaws hanging loose and eyes wide.

Fleur watched the scene with cold indifference, the glow of her horn fading. Redirecting the cub’s punch had been a simple thing, once she applied the magic in the right way. The fact that she hadn’t been able to do it a dozen times in a row stung worse than the blows she’d received, but that was okay; she had figured it out. She rubbed the blood from her jaw and flicked it away, barely acknowledging how the splatter fell upon the cub’s bewildered earth pony goon.

The other children were muttering to one another, casting fearful looks her way. She liked how they looked at her. It was far better than the leers and taunts they’d thrown her way for the past few months. She met their eyes with a placid expression, daring them with her eyes. The pitiful squawking of the cub on the floor proved more than enough to prevent any of them from taking her up on it.

“What is going on here?”

Foals and cubs made room for Headmaster Kluv, who stared down at the weeping mess on the floor. His beak opened and closed a few times, eyes shifting between Fleur and the cub. His frown was less upset and more confused. “Fleur, did you do this?”

She eyed the blubbering creature. “He did it to himself.”

The cub at last found a use for his vocal cords other than pointless screeching. He pointed his good claw at her and cried, “Nuh-uh! You used magic! You made me!”

Fleur cocked her head and rubbed a little more blood from her muzzle, more to point it out to the headmaster than for any discomfort. “I thought you might like hitting something harder than my face.”

Headmaster Kluv’s eyes widened just a touch, but that was as much surprise as he’d offer her. He turned to two of the older children, both griffons. “Plato, Syeryebro, take Toopoy to the doctor.”

The two did as they were told, having to practically drag the howling griffon away by his shoulders. Toopoy screeched as they rounded a corner, “You wait, bonehead! As soon as my claw is better, I’ll put you in your place! I’ll break your horn off, do you hear me?!”

The headmaster ignored the shrieks as he turned to Fleur. He pointed down the hall, his features expressionless.

A tightness came over Fleur’s chest. She wanted to snap at him, but she didn’t dare. Yet even as she turned away, she understood that she’d done something amazing; for the first time in her life, she’d defended herself. It felt good, and not just because she knew she had it in her now. The tension fled as a smile spread across her bruised face, and she all but pranced for the headmaster’s office.

Would Fine Crime find out about this? Would he be proud? She felt like dancing – another new concept.

The door closed, and she realized she was already in the office. Her happiness fell away in the face of reality, her ears folding back and her shoulders slumping. Slowly, she turned to watch as Headmaster Kluv sat behind his desk. He wrapped his talons around one another and studied her.

Fleur had learned a lot since Fine had left her here, but she had yet to really understand things in the orphanage. In a way, she was still struggling with exactly what qualified as ‘wrong’ here. The headmaster always seemed forgiving, but she’d never seen that unreadable expression on him before. Had she crossed a line?

“Explain.” The word came out crisp and firm.

Fleur obeyed eagerly. “He was hurting me. I made him stop.”

“I gathered.” Headmaster Kluv waved the back of a talon at her. “How did you make him stop?”

“I learned magic.” At his raised eyebrow, Fleur struggled to find a way to explain. “I’ve been studying the book. I learned a spell. Tele… Telke…”

He click his beak. “Telekinesis.”

“Yes, that.” She rubbed her hooves together, then rubbed the last of the drying blood from her muzzle. “I always knew how to do it, but now I know how it works. I pushed Toopoy’s hoof. It took me a few tries.” Maybe mentioning how difficult it was would remind him that she’d been attacked first. She hadn’t really attacked Toopoy. Had she?

Headmaster Kluv sat back, his eyebrows narrowing. “You mean you knocked his punch aside so that he’d hit the column behind you?”

At his incredulous tone, she sat up straight and glared. “He was hurting me! I’m tired of being hurt. Why should I let him hurt me?”

With something resembling a derisive sniff, the headmaster waved a dismissive claw. “You’re not in here because of that.”

Fleur blinked, the haze of anger clearing just a little. “But aren’t you mad at me?”

“Hardly.” He leaned over the desk to study her. “Toopoy has had this coming for a long time. I brought you in here for two reasons. First, to know how you did it. Second, to teach you about consequences.”

She glanced at the door, uncertainty welling within her. “Toopoy wants to break my horn?”

He nodded. “Yes, that’s exactly what I’m talking about. Before, Toopoy was a bully. Now he might be something worse, and you’ve made yourself a target.”

“But I was only defending myself!” She whirled to face him. “Can’t you stop him? I don’t want to lose my horn!”

He slapped the desk, the reverberating crack making her jump. She shrank away from his piercing gaze.

“You acted without thinking, Fleur. Yes, I can stop Toopoy, and I will, but I won’t be able to protect you all the time. The stallion who brought you here gave some very strict instructions, and I intend to carry them out, but once you’re out of my claws?”

He sat back once more, heaving a long sigh. Fleur stared at her hooves, too afraid to do anything else. Why was he upset? Fine had told her to stand up for herself. His way was right, she was sure of it.

“Fleur.”

Eye contact.

She met his gaze, and her frustration faded as she recognized the concern in his eyes.

“Don’t antagonize others directly. You are small, and not very strong. I understand that you want to retaliate, but if you must do it, then be smart about it.”

She thought about his words, head tilting to one side, then another. “I don’t get it.”

“You’re a bright filly,” he said. “You taught yourself to read in just a couple months. You’ve started learning magic all on your own. Use those brains Celestia gifted you with to protect yourself.”

Fleur shook her head. “But I don’t know how.”

He stared down at her, expression stern. “I’ll help you, starting with Toopoy.”










February  25, C.Y. 987 
Stalliongrad


Fleur shared a room with two younger cubs, a boy named Granat and a girl named Venogradnek. Today they watched from their bed with wide eyes as six young unicorns focused on iron weights. Some of the foals barely managed to get their weights off the ground. Others were able to pull it off, but their targets wobbled dangerously in the cramped space. Only Fleur’s weight floated high and steady.

Fleur smiled to a red filly about her age. “You’re doing well, Toosklt, but you don’t need to focus so hard. Relax.”

The filly grimaced, but after a few seconds her shoulders lost their tension. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she opened her eyes, she saw that her weight had stabilized. Relief washed over her features.

Fleur nodded. “Very good!”

“It’s not so great,” grumbled a grey, teenage colt, the oldest pony in the group. He looked about the same age as Fine Crime had been, although that was where the similarities ended. His weight floated so low that its wobbling made it bang the floorboards.

Fleur stepped over to him, her own weight perfectly still, and set a hoof to his shoulder. “Don’t worry, Oryol. You’ll get it.”

He glared at the weight as if it were the cause of his inability. “It weighs too much.”

“Don’t think about how much it weighs,” she instructed. She reared up, leaned against him and set her chin on his shoulder, so as to see what he saw.

He shifted from hoof to hoof and seemed to focus even more fiercely on his weight. “You said the weight is important.”

“Yes, you can’t lift something too heavy, but to lift it, you have to forget that it’s heavy.” She leaned forward a little, and her pink aura enveloped the bottom of the weight. “Can you feel what I’m doing?”

She heard him swallow. “Y-yeah.”

An older filly in the corner giggled. Fleur wondered what the joke was. Casting the thought aside, she raised the weight just a little. “Feel my magic with yours. It moves in a certain way, right?”

His silver aura shifted, initially to match hers. As soon as the two were synchronized, however, the rest of his aura appeared to ‘snap’ into position. Fleur stepped back at his gasp, and soon the weight was rising to be level with his head. It wasn’t stable, but it was floating.

“I did it.” He gawked at the weight, then threw his head back to laugh. “I actually did it!”

The other foals were cheering, the two cubs on the bed clapping excitedly as Oryol bounced in place. He turned to her, tears welling in his eyes. “Thank you, Fleur. I thought my horn was broken or something, but this… thank you!”

“Oh, isn’t this cute?”

A sick sensation came over Fleur at the sound of that voice. Here it was, the moment she’d been dreading for a whole week. Was she ready? Had the headmaster given her enough time?

She forced her expression to be as neutral as possible before turning to the door. Toopoy stood there, settled back in a relaxed pose as he took in all the unicorns – and two cubs. He wasn’t alone, being flanked by another teenage griffon who was slightly smaller than him, but had the muscles to make up for it. Tochnost, he was called. Another bully. His added presence sent a worrying chill down her back. She hoped her face remained neutral.

“Welcome back,” Fleur said, just managing to keep the shake from her voice. “I expected you in from the hospital days ago. How’s the claw?”

Toopoy grinned and raised the mentioned appendage, flexing his talons demonstrably. “Ready for a test run.” He took a step inside; all the ponies stepped back. Fleur cursed herself for having done the same.

“Magic lessons?” Toopoy chortled as his new ally stepped up behind him. His eyes landed on Fleur’s book, which was sitting on the edge of the bed. “As if you could teach anypony anything. What good is magic?”

One of the younger foals tried to speak up, but closed her mouth and looked away swiftly when both Toopoy and Tochnost’s eyes darted to her.

“Your little club is disbanded,” Tochnost growled. He stepped aside and gestured at the open door. “Everyone out. We’re gonna have a few words with miss priss.”

To Fleur’s surprise, not a pony moved. She looked around to find all of them glaring at the two griffons. Why weren’t they leaving?

“What in Tartarus?” Toopoy ruffled his wings and puffed out his chest dramatically. “Didn’t you hear him? Get out!”

Oryol took a step forward and scuffed the floor, his eyes narrow. “You want to talk to Fleur, you talk to all of us.”

The way the two teenage griffons’ beaks dropped matched the fall of Fleur’s jaw perfectly. She cast another look around and saw that the others were demonstrating similar resolve, each of them braced for a fight. Even the two cubs on the bed were up on all fours, tiny wings spread and feathers puffed out. She turned her attention back to Oryol, who shot her a look of firm assurance before refocusing on the two bullies.

In that moment, Fleur understood. Her dread was shoved aside by a veritable river of glee, and she couldn’t resist throwing a grin at Toopoy. “We’re not afraid of you.”

Toopoy and Tochnost shared wide-eyed looks for several seconds.

Their stupification didn’t last: Toopoy whipped his head around to snarl at her. “You think this changes anything? You’re just a bunch of unicorns. Not even that, unicorn foals. We can take you.”

Fleur hesitated, but Oryol spoke up. “And how are you gonna explain that to Headmaster Kluv? You can get away with hurting one of us, sure, but let’s see you explain five of us… if you really can take us.”

Tochnost popped his knuckles before lowering himself to an attack stance. Fleur tensed, prepared for what may well be the fight of her life. It struck her as so unfair; she’d finally escaped that miserable little house and her father, and she might just be about to die!

Yet the fight didn’t come. After examining the situation for several seconds, Toopoy at last stepped back. He set a talon on Tochnost’s shoulder, startling him. “What can I say? The colt’s right.”

Tochnost’s face twisted in a combination of surprise and anger. He jerked back from Toopoy’s touch as he growled, “You’re backing down? I thought you were ready to teach these ponies a lesson.”

“One death is a crime,” Toopoy replied, his manner oddly calm. “Five could get us sent to the mines.”

That sobered Tochnost up quickly. Though it appeared to require a lot of strain, he managed to pull himself out of his aggressive stance. Yet there was no disguising the disgust on his face, and he shoved his way past Toopoy as he left.

Toopoy looked at the ponies gathered before him with derision, then pointed a talon at Fleur. “Don’t think you’ve won, bonehead. Your friends won’t be around you forever. That moment when you’re alone is the moment I’ll break that horn from your worthless skull.” With one last glare at the others, he turned and strutted off, soon disappearing down the hall.

Fleur stared at the door, not sure she could believe her eyes. They were—

“They’re gone.”

She turned to the filly who’d spoken, a tall green one with a light red mane, and discovered that the others appeared as shocked as she felt. The filly’s wide-eyed gaze fell on Fleur. “They went away. And nopony got hurt. It… It worked.”

Oryol shook his head forcefully, as if to clear it. “Yeah. Yeah! They left us alone!”

Sighs of relief were soon followed by chuckles, and then laughter. Fleur watched them all in silence, still unable to process just what had happened. She turned to Oryol. “You… You all helped me. Why did you do that?”

The stallion offered a lopsided grin. “Why? Because we’re friends, that’s why.”

“Friends?” She rolled the word around on her tongue, getting a feel for it. It had to be one of the most unfamiliar words in her vocabulary.

“Of course we’re friends,” the younger colt – was his name Kryevyetke? That sounded right – ignited his horn, releasing a small spark. “You’ve been tutoring us!”

Oryol nodded eagerly. “I learned more from you than I ever have at that stupid school.”

Noting Fleur’s vacant expression, the elder filly set a hoof to Fleur’s shoulder. “Have you never had friends before?”

No. No she hadn’t. She fell heavily to her haunches. “I… Only one pony ever… I mean…”

“You helped us out,” Oryol said. “It’s only right that we return the favor. If we stick together, we’ll never have to worry about jerks like Toopoy and Tochnost again.”

They were all smiling at her. They were all supporting her. Headmaster Kluv had been right, but mixed in with her relief was a new and growing terror. Fleur had never had friends before. Now that she did…

What was she supposed to do?

Kryevyetke cocked his head, concern filling his features. “Fleur? Are you okay?”

She pressed a hoof to her hammering heart even as her eyes darted from one pony to the next. “I don’t know. I mean… We’re friends? I don’t know how to be a friend. Is there something… Something I’m supposed to do now?”

Oryol raised an eyebrow before looking to the elder filly. “She’s kidding, right? I mean, she is kidding right now. Right?”

The filly stepped closer to Fleur and smiled. “This isn’t a trial, Fleur. You don’t have to do anything different. Whatever you don’t know, we’ll teach you. Okay?”

Tapping the tips of her forehooves together, Fleur stared at the floor. Her cheeks burned as she whispered, “I don’t even remember your name.”

The filly blinked, her face abruptly blank as she took this in. Fleur cringed, waiting for the unpleasant result.

Instead, she heard laughter. The filly grinned, shook her head and patted Fleur on the cheek. “It’s Nyektar.”

“I’m sorry! There are so many creatures at the orphanage and in the city and I… I don’t know how to—”

Another playful laugh. Nyektar pressed a hoof to Fleur’s lips. “It’s okay, Fleur. We’ll help you with that, too.”

Fleur’s eyes crossed as she tried to examine the hoof on her muzzle. She looked to Nyektar, then to the others. They were all smiling.

Smiles. They made her want to smile, too.

So she did.










March  21, C.Y. 987 
Stalliongrad


Fleur had been dreaming about Fine. She did that often, and the dreams were always strange. Sometimes they were scary, but not always. This one had been especially odd, for she’d been in the boat with him, and they’d both been scared. She remembered Fine could be scared when it came to water, but that didn’t make seeing him in such a state any more appealing. So she’d gone to him, and curled up at his side. There they’d remained, drifting on an endless river, taking comfort in one another’s presence.

It had been wonderful.

Waking from the dream so suddenly left her stunned and confused, her gaze set upon the wall as she struggled to make sense of what she was seeing. By the time she realized that something had jostled her awake, the weight was already on her chest. She turned her head in a daze to find something bulky and feathered grinning at her. A second later, her extra pillow pressed against her face.

Fleur had no idea what was happening, but two things registered quickly: first, that Toopoy was the one sitting on her, and second, that she couldn’t breathe. Both of these facts were mysterious to her, as if her groggy brain had trouble connecting them to a conclusion.

Then comprehension kicked in, and she squirmed. Even her ears barely took in her shouts, and the sideways position she’d been trapped in made her hooves all but useless. She kicked and screamed and shook, heart hammering as her lungs fought for air. Where were the cubs, Granat and Venogradnek? They should be calling for help. Did they even know she was in trouble?

Her lungs started to ache. She needed air!

Questions swam through her growing panic. Regrets battered against her skull. She’d not even had a chance to look for Fine. He was watching, wasn’t he? He would protect her, surely. Any second now, he’d appear behind Toopoy and stab that knife into the brute’s neck. Yes… Yes! Fine would save her!

The aching grew into a burn. Her chest heaved with the need for oxygen.

Fine would come. She closed her eyes and prayed. He would come. He hadn’t left her here to die. He hadn’t!

Her eyes stung with tears that couldn’t make it past the pillow, it was pressed so tightly to her. She slowed her struggles, realizing the need to conserve her energy. Fine would be given all the time she could offer. He had to do this right.

Right?

Though she couldn’t move, her head was swimming. A painful throbbing began in her forehead. Her body trembled as it fought for air that wouldn’t come. Slowly, through the pain and the dizziness, Fleur began to recognize the horrible truth.

No help was coming.

…

Or was it? For the first time since waking up, Fleur remembered something so fundamental that neglecting it felt insultingly stupid: she had a horn. Though concentration eluded her, she worked frantically to build up some magic. She wouldn’t need much, right? She had no answer. Conscious thought barely functioned in her oxygen deprived brain. Magic. That was all she knew.

She needed magic.

No, she needed Fine Crime.

Magic. Fine.

Focus!

Her lungs begged for air. Her heartbeat slowed. Her throat constricted on itself in a desperate bid to force oxygen down from something, anything it could. Jackhammers pounded her skull from the outside, cotton stuffed it from within. Her eyes were on fire, her horn grew hot.

Magic.

Fine.

Pain.

Dying.

Focus.

Fine.

Focus.

Fine.

Dying.

In the recesses of her fading consciousness, Fleur felt something ‘shift’ at the base of her horn. Within nothing left to go on, she used it as a sign and released. No conscious spell, no intended direction; she just let the magic go.

Pink blinded her. It erupted in all directions, making her horn feel like a torch. The pillow didn’t pull away so much as it disappeared, and if not for the desperate, innate need to breathe Fleur would have shrieked at the pain. For an instant or an eternity, all she knew was pink, pain and the wonderful, incredible delight of air.

Then the color faded, bringing to her a world of black. She could hear nothing for the ringing in her ears, couldn’t move for the pain of her first breaths. Slowly, the fire of her horn faded, and in the darkness she could make out its brilliant glow. In time, even that dimmed to darkness.

At last, the ringing stopped. Replacing it was a pathetic, howling whine. Or was it crying? Whatever it was, it sounded… wrong. Garbled. Mutated.

Her strength finally coming back, Fleur forced herself up on wobbling legs. She stared uncomprehendingly at the hole in the ceiling, not sure what it meant. Paying it little mind, she perked her ears to follow the ugly sounds. It came from the floor… at the foot of her bed. Slowly, she crept forward. Her eyes barely registered the shape of a griffon in the doorway.

Her chest constricted at the sight of the creature on the floor. It took her a while to realize that the mess of black and smoke was none other than Toopoy. His right foreleg was missing entirely, his chest a mess of charred tissue. His remaining, shaking talon hovered just before his face, as if he wanted to touch it but couldn’t bring himself to do so. There was no question as to why; almost half of it had been seared off, leaving a gaping, concave mess of cauterized flesh.

Fleur stepped back, breath coming in gasps. She looked at the hole in the ceiling, then at the speechless, wide-eyed Tochnost in the doorway. An errant spark crackled from the tip of her smoking horn. The pieces came together.

It’s over, Fleur. They will never touch you again.

They would never touch her again.

She didn’t realize she wore a manic grin. The euphoria was too great.

Be strong for me, alright?

She was strong. She’d not understood that before. Her father and brothers kept it hidden from her, but she was strong.

You need to make the decisions.

She hopped off the bed, landing on all fours with a dull thunk. She leaned over the howling, trembling creature on the floor, dropping down until her muzzle was just beside the unburned side of his head.

“Nopony will ever hurt me again.”

Toopoy shrieked and dragged himself away with his good claw, leaving a trail of ash and blood behind. Fleur watched his blind retreat without pity or remorse. Fine had told her that he wouldn’t be here. She should have remembered that. She would have to protect herself from now on. And that started with…

When her eyes met Tochnost, he fell backwards and pressed against the wall of the hallway. Fleur approached him at a trot, her eyes hard. The griffon, a full twice her size, quaked at her approach.

She paused before him, her hard gaze holding him in place. In her peripheral vision were the other orphans, watching the scene in quiet awe. She ignored them as she spoke.

“I won’t let anypony, anygriffon, anything hurt me again. Never. Never. Never!”

She reared back, her horn flashing in the darkness. She didn’t know what she was doing, and she didn’t care. Tochnost had helped, he had acted as the sentry, and he would pay.

The griffon screamed and raised his claws, perhaps in an attempt to grab her before she could act. It did him no good; a sparkling beam of pink energy rose from her horn like a sword, and when she swung her head it cut through flesh and bone like butter.

Tochnost’s scream became a piercing shriek as his two talons fell to the floor, his arms now ending in red stumps of blood and heat. He fell against the wall, cradling his arms against his chest and sobbing. The pathetic sounds did nothing to ease Fleur’s rage as she swung her horn a second time, the short blade of energy slicing into the wall. Tochnost dove to the floor just in time to avoid decapitation.

A voice in the back of her head demanded she stop, but it was drowned out by a boiling fury Fleur had never known she could possess. She snarled as she leapt after the fleeing griffin, and with another swing of the head took a chunk off of his hind leg. Tochnost babbled incoherently as he crawled away, and she liked the sound.

Her father turned to her, raising his forelegs over his face as he stared with eyes blinded by horror. He begged for mercy. Mercy. Him, begging her! Her body shook with her fury. An anger born from every blow, every insult and every lie that had been fed into her young, susceptible brain. A good filly, that’s what he’d insisted she be, even as he beat her to within an inch of her life.

She was strong.

She could be independent.

And she would never be hurt again.

Her mouth opened in a roar. She reared back, taking in her father’s fear, relishing it. He would feel it, all the pain he’d put her through, all the hate and the despair and the nights of being cold and miserable and not understanding why she could never be good. She brought her horn down, eyes locked with his, grinning as she heard him scream—

The world blurred as something smashed into her, and the beam of energy fizzled out. Fleur landed on her stomach with enough force to knock the air from her lungs, and something pinned her jaw to the floor. Her brother, it had to be her brother! If she could just tilt her head at the right angle and start the beam again…

A voice screamed in her ear. “Fleur! It’s okay, Fleur, it’s okay! You can stop now.”

She blinked; that wasn’t her brother’s voice. Who… Who was it?

Sobs reached her ears again. Though she couldn’t move her head, she still managed to see the shape of Tochnost on the floor nearby. He was a bloody, burnt wreck.

And he was still alive.

The anger stirred her back into the struggle. “Let me go! He deserves it! They tried to kill me!”

“Fleur, please, stop! They can’t hurt you anymore!” Now she recognized him. Headmaster Kluv.

Her response came as a piercing shriek. “Nopony will ever hurt me again!”

“Fleur!”

A new voice. She looked up as best she could. There stood Nyektar. At her side was Oryol. She had no idea which had called out to her, but their shocked, frightened expressions slammed into her heart like a runaway carriage.

The energy and anger collapsed, to be replaced by tears. Fleur buried her face beneath her hooves and wept. “I don’t want to hurt anymore. Please, make the hurting stop. M-make it stop, please.”

Gradually, the weight pinning her down lifted. Someone was rubbing her back… petting her. The headmaster’s voice was in her ear. “It’s okay, Fleur. It’s over. You’re okay.”

A moment later, Oryol and Nyektar were lying on either side of her, nuzzling her and pressing in close.

Nyektar whispered soothing sounds in her ears as Oryol spoke. “We’re here, Fleur. Nopony’s going to hurt you. You’re safe.”

She tried to take comfort in their words. Safe. She was safe.

She didn’t feel safe.










March  22, C.Y. 987 
Stalliongrad


Headmaster Kluv’s office.

Again.

At least Fleur wasn’t alone, what with Nyektar and Oryol insisting to be at her side. She was more grateful for their presence than she thought she’d be, especially when she woke up with nightmares again and again. Her head still throbbed at the base of her horn, but by now it was only a minor nuisance.

Headmaster Kluv had one talon pressed to his forehead as he slumped over his desk. He didn’t look at Fleur, instead staring at the sheet of paper between his elbows. She didn’t dare speak to him. After all the trouble she caused, not to mention the hole in the roof, she knew that some kind of punishment was due.

Would he hurt her?

She shivered and shrank in on herself.

At last, the headmaster spoke. “I’m not going to lie: we’re in trouble.”

Fleur’s voice sounded frail even to her. “I’m sorry.”

Oryol raised his head high. “She had every right to defend herself.”

“Of course she did,” Headmaster Kluv growled. The sound made Fleur wince. “Toopoy and Tochnost had reputations. Not a soul will blame her for fighting back.”

Nyektar tilted her head to one side. “So… is it because of the roof?”

“It’s not the roof, either, although that is a pain in the feather.” The headmaster kneaded the desk, his claws making faint scratches in the wood. His eyes were still set on that piece of paper. “The problem is, we can’t keep this a secret. Word’s going to get out that we’ve got a gifted filly in our midst. It’s only a matter of time before someone comes looking for her.”

Fleur lost her timid pose and stared at him with wide eyes. A spark of hope ignited within her. “You mean… Fine?”

At last, he looked at her. Her hope dwindled at his lack of a smile. “No, Fleur. Fine isn’t going to be coming.”

She wilted once more as Nyektar asked, “Then who?”

More kneading. The headmaster looked at the three of them, then looked to the closed door. His expression was hard, but his eyes thoughtful. He sighed and sat back. “I’m going to tell you three something, and you have to promise to keep your mouths shut. You tell anybody I said it, and I’ll deny it and throw you all under the carriage. Got it?”

Fleur pushed away from him with whimper. “You’d throw me under a carriage?”

“No, no, no!” Nyektar bend down quick to nuzzle Fleur in the small of her back. “It’s a figure of speech. He won’t really throw you under a carriage.”

Headmaster Kluv’s face twisted in alarm and guilt. “Sorry, I’m sorry. No, Fleur, it just means that… That you can’t tell anyone about what I’m going to say, alright?”

She took a moment to let her pulse drop below the speed of a hummingbird’s wings before giving a shaky nod. “Y-yeah, okay. I promise.”

The headmaster visibly relaxed, though the guilt remained on his face. “Okay. Good. Sorry.” He coughed before resuming is solid manner once more. “Now, I have a friend from back when I worked in the mines, and—”

Oryol’s body seemed to jerk in place. “You were in the mines? But I thought nopony could survive that!”

Headmaster Kluv growled. “Where do you think the limp comes from, kid? Yes, I was in the mines, and I survived. Made friends with one of the guards there. He’s a lot higher in rank now, and we keep in touch. That’s why I know what I’m about to tell you: war is coming.”

A heavy silence permeated the air. Fleur could only be confused; she’d heard of war, but didn’t really understand it.

Oryol and Nyektar, on the other hoof, were stuck in a wide-eyed stupor.

“War?” Nyektar asked, as if the very word left a bad taste in her mouth. “With who? Why?”

Rubbing a talon over his forehead and staring once more at the paper on the desk, he replied, “With Equestria.”

“But that’s suicide,” Oryol snapped. “Grypha couldn’t possibly win a war against Equestria! Princess Celestia could crush them by herself.”

Headmaster Kluv shook his head. “From what I hear, the governess of the Crystal Empire is planning rebellion. She’s sent her husband here to negotiate an alliance, and my friend says there are a lot of Lords buying into the argument. Not enough to get a mandate of war passed, but the possibility is strong.”

Nyektar’s face had a hint of green in it. Oryol swayed from side to side, expression slack. Fleur looked to each of them, then to the grim face of Headmaster Kluv. “I don’t understand.”

“Are you sure, Headmaster?” Nyektar asked.

“Nobody’s sure,” he replied. “But I know a lot of griffons are gearing up for it. They’re going to be looking for every edge they can get against Equestria, just in case the fighting really does come. And we’ve got a young and surprisingly powerful unicorn in our orphanage.”

The way they all stared at Fleur made her shrink back a little. Why did her stomach feel all twisty? “What does that mean? What’s going to happen to me?”

The headmaster’s expression was as solid as rock. “What it means is that the Grypha government may try to take you away. They’ll want to use you, Fleur, as a weapon. A weapon against your own kind.”

She thought on this, trying to apply it to herself in some fashion. The concept eluded her. “I don’t understand. How could I be a weapon?”

The headmaster, Oryol and Nyektar exchanged uncertain looks. It was Oryol who attempted an answer. “Well… You know what you did to Toopoy and Tochnost? Did you enjoy that?”

She opened her mouth to reply, but hesitated. In her mind’s eye, she saw Oryol crawling away from her, his body burnt and black. And Tochnost, weeping on the floor with nothing but stumps on the ends of his arms. Chaos assaulted her brain as she tried to gather her feelings around what she had done.

“I… I don’t…” She lowered her chin to the floor. “It felt good and bad at the same time. I want to be a good pony for Mommy, but I want to be strong for Fine too. If I’m strong, they can’t hurt me. I don’t want to be hurt… but I don’t want to hurt others, either. I…”

She pressed her fetlocks over her eyes and moaned. “I don’t know what I want.”

Oryol and Nyektar pressed a little closer to her. Nyektar said, “Imagine that someone forced you to hurt others, Fleur. Again and again, without stopping. That’s what it means to be a weapon.”

“B-but I don’t want to have to hurt others,” she whispered. “I just wanted the pain to stop!”

Nyektar shuddered, then turned to the headmaster. “We can’t let them have her. She’s just a foal! Isn’t there something we can do?”

Headmaster Kluv heaved another of his long, weary sighs. He leaned over the table once more, examining the paper before him. “I’ve got this incident report. I’m bound by law to file it. I have to recommend something, something that can give the big feathers pause.”

Oryol leaned forward, his voice hopeful.“But you’ve got an idea, right? You must have something.”

“Oh, I’ve got something, alright.” The headmaster pressed his palms to his cheeks, his scowl appearing more like a defeated frown as a result. “But if I do it, I’m breaking the rules. That damn Archon gave me just two responsibilities: keep Fleur safe, and keep her out of Equestria. I’m stuck in a position where I can’t possibly do both.”

Everything stopped. The fear, the confusion, the anger and the worry and the doubt, it all vacated Fleur’s mind at the sound of one word: Equestria. Fine was from Equestria. He’d left her to go back to Equestria.

Fine Crime was in Equestria.

“What are you suggesting?” Nyektar asked.

Headmaster Kluv noted Fleur’s wide-eyed gaze. He examined her with a solemn, but curious, expression. “There’s a school. It’s in Equestria’s capital. It’s for gifted unicorns… like Fleur. The application process is supposed to be brutal, and we’d have to help her catch up in her education, but if she can get in?” His lips twitched, a failed attempt at a smile. “Celestia won’t send a filly to war. With any luck, Fleur can avoid the fighting entirely, and get a top-of-the-line education while she’s at it.”

The grin came to Fleur’s face involuntarily. “You mean I can go to Equestria?” She could already see Fine meeting her at the docks, smiling and congratulating her for her hard work. She could have her savior back! Fine Crime, who gave her everything. To see him again, to be by his side…

Nyektar’s words drew her back to reality. “That’s a great idea! What safer place is there than right under Princess Celestia’s castle?”

Oryol nodded, but he wasn’t smiling. “Won’t Grypha try to keep her from leaving? I mean, they’d be sacrificing a pretty powerful tool otherwise.”

Headmaster Kluv shook his head. “That school was founded by Celestia. Keeping a pony from it is like snubbing the Sun itself, and Grypha can’t afford to be under suspicion. They wouldn’t dare get in the way of Fleur’s admission.”

“In that case—”

Fleur jumped to her hooves. “I want to go!”

All eyes turned to her, but she didn’t shrink back this time. She grinned at the headmaster. “Fine is there. I want to go. I’ll go to the school.”

Headmaster Kluv hesitated. “Fleur, I really doubt you’ll ever see that archon again.”

“I will!” She stomped, lifted her head high. “Fine Crime is in Equestria. He saved me. I need to see him again. I want to be with Fine.”

Oryol set a hoof to her shoulder. “But Fleur—”

“I don’t care!” She pushed his hoof away and reared back, slamming her hooves on the headmaster’s desk and giving him her most firm glare. “I want to go! Fine will be there, and he’ll take care of me. I won’t hurt anymore, because he’ll be with me. I can be strong for him! I want to go to the school.”

The headmaster met her gaze, his own slowly growing solemn. He glanced at the ponies behind her, but she only stared more intently. Finally, he spoke.

“Fleur, I need you to understand. You’re a strong unicorn, but it takes more than strong magic to get into Celestia’s school. You’re eleven years old, and you missed out on five years of education. You are going to have to work very hard to catch up and be good enough for the school.”

“I can do it,” she insisted with as much confidence as she could squeeze out. “I have to! I’ll learn everything I have to. No, more than everything! I’ll show Fine how strong and smart I can be, and then he’ll have to see me.”

He merely stared at her, frowning and thinking. Fleur didn’t budge, even as her hind legs started to ache from her awkward stance. Eye contact. Confidence. Decisions. She had to be her own mare now, and this would be her first real choice. She would go to Equestria, no matter what. If the headmaster didn’t help, she’d find another way.

Fine would welcome her. She knew he would.

Headmaster Kluv closed his eyes, breaking the hold they’d had on one another. Fleur felt a small weight lift from her mind, but didn’t bother to ponder it; she just kept staring.

When his eyes opened, they were set upon the ponies behind her. “Nyektar, I want you to go to the Stalliongrad State Library and collect as many texts as you can regarding unicorn magic. Basics first, we want to do this right. Oryol, gather a few strong friends and start emptying the store room on the second floor. Fleur’s going to need space to practice.”

The two ponies barked their confirmations and left in a hurry. The headmaster noted Fleur’s continued gaze and smirked. “You can stop, now.”

“Oh, r-right.” She dropped back to the floor and sat, happy to rest her sore hind legs. “So I’m going to school?”

He reached for a nearby quill, one claw smoothing the paper on his desk. “Yes, Fleur, you’re going to school.”










December  17, C.Y. 987 
Stalliongrad


Nine grueling months of study.

Thirty-nine weeks of practicing with Oryol.

Two-hundred-seventy days of quizzes and recitation and tests given by Nyektar.

Countless late nights in candlelight studying theories and dreaming of Fine Crime’s proud face.

And now, three weeks of waiting for a letter that she thought would never come. Fleur was exhausted physically and mentally, having refused to take a single day off throughout the entire ordeal. Even now, she had a book on the bed beside her as she took diligent notes on a scroll that hovered in her pink aura. The act of studying had become so natural that even now, when she had no need and everyone told her to relax, she found herself still going at it. It wasn’t that she wanted to so much as she’d forgotten how to do anything else.

But reading wasn’t the only thing happening in her bedroom, the same bedroom she’d lived and studied and practiced in ever since her decision to go to Equestria. In the center of the room, five large rocks were moving in a winding, circular pattern around one another, an endless cycle of motion perpetuated by her horn. Near the corner of the room was a large stand covered in gems that one of her friends had gathered, linked to one another via an intricate system of ley lines that were themselves little more than gems crushed into powder. The gems glowed as they built energy, growing stronger with every tick of the clock on the wall. And despite these things, Fleur’s mind still wasn’t fully occupied.

So she thought. She thought about the friends who had helped her get this far. She thought about Headmaster Kluv’s physical exercises, designed to teach her self discipline. She thought about Oryol and Nyektar, who had both worked hard to keep her going and always gave her the support she needed, even when she didn’t realize she’d needed it. She thought about how far she’d come in such a short time, and the way the foals and cubs at the orphanage had come to respect her. Sometimes she thought of Toopoy and Tochnost, wondering what had become of them after they’d been carried away on gurneys. She thought about her new cutie mark which, curiously, didn’t have anything to do with magic and everything to do with charm. That led her mind to the four months of etiquette classes she’d squeezed in to prepare for a life in Canterlot. She thought on the test she’d taken over a week ago, the one administered by the only appropriately licensed mage in Grypha.

But mostly? She thought of Fine Crime. She’d long come to acknowledge that he probably wouldn’t be waiting for her when she arrived. The intense training she’d undergone had also taught her logic, and logic told her that finding her beloved savior would take a lot more than this. Regardless, her determination to see him again never wavered. He consumed her thoughts, drove her passion and guided her devotion.

She was strong, and getting stronger by the day. He would see her, and he would weep in pride for what she achieved.

A knock on the door brought her smoothly out of her thoughts. “Come in.”

It was Nyektar. The pony stepped inside, only to pause as she took in everything that was happening at once. “Fleur, you’re supposed to be relaxing.”

With a sigh, Fleur finished her sentence and let the scroll and quill drop to the bed. “I know, but I couldn’t. I’m so tired of waiting, I had to do something.”

Her friend eyed the floating rocks before raising an eyebrow. “And your solution was to do everything at once?”

Without so much as a glance at them, Fleur ceased the motions of the rocks and settled them in a neat pile in the corner. Nyektar cocked her head before pointing at the still-glowing gemstones.

Fleur smiled and hopped off the bed, approaching the table. “They’re on automatic.”

Nyektar stepped up beside her, a smile of her own forming. “You mean you finally figured it out?”

“Last night, actually.” Fleur examined her work with no small measure of pride. She could see what others couldn’t: the magical patterns running along all the gems like so many tiny, spiderwebbing cracks. Where they had once been dormant, now they sparked and flowed and pulsed like blood vessels filled with colorful electricity. “Gem batteries, Nyektar. I know how to make gem batteries.”

“I’m glad you could figure it out,” Nyektar replied with exasperation. “Those stupid equations confused the hay out of me. I get a headache just thinking about them.” She set a hoof to Fleur’s shoulder. “This is going to impress a lot of ponies in Canterlot, Fleur. It’s such a rare specialty, and you’ve figured it out at the age of twelve.”

Fleur’s shoulders slumped. “If I even get to go. Why is it taking so long to get that letter?”

A giggle met her ears, which slowly built into full blown laughter. Before Fleur could react, Nyektar caught her up in a hug. “The letter, Fleur! It’s here!”

Her eyes widened in comprehension even as her hooves seemed to slide out from under her. “W-w-what? It’s here?”

“Yes!” Nyektar pulled her to her hooves and dragged her to the door. “Come on, everyone’s out in the lobby waiting for the news! The headmaster’s going to read it. Come on!”

It had arrived. At last, after all the waiting, all the hard work, Fleur’s fate was about to be decided. Excitement and horror raced through her mind in equal measure, neck and neck for the finish line that was her visible expression. Her legs wobbled, her heart began to pound, her voice cracked. All she managed to get out was a quiet, “Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no…”

“Don’t worry, it’s in the bag.” Nyektar practically dragged her through the orphanage and down the stairs.

Oryol met them at the bottom, grinning from ear to ear. “You ready, Fleur?”

“No.”

He chuckled and helped Nyektar push her forward, which was needed now that Fleur’s legs had locked. “Come on, you’re a magical genius! There’s no way they won’t accept you.”

“B-but what if they don’t?” Fleur shook her head wildly as they approached the front lobby. Already she could see the excited faces of all her friends. They were smiling at her, acting as if everything was going to go well. They did little to comfort her. “What if I bucked up the test? What if I forgot something critical, like… Like… I don’t know, something!”

Before she could think to brace against the doorframe, she was thrust into the crowd. Foals and cubs alike cheered her arrival, and all she could think of was how much she wanted to hide under the floorboards. Why hadn’t she taken the time to learn that invisibility spell? Or teleportation, she could have learned a teleportation spell. But no, she’d chosen to specialize in gemcraft, which seemed so preposterously useless right now!

“Alright, everybody, calm down.” Headmaster Kluv appeared at her side. Her eyes immediately fell upon the letter in his claw. Such a small thing, to hold her entire life in the balance. It might as well have been a ticking bomb in her mind. Her ears folded back as she stared at the thing, half wishing someone would steal it and rip it to shreds. “Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no…”

He set a palm to her shoulder and offered what was possibly the warmest smile she’d ever seen on his chiseled face. “It’s okay to be nervous. Everything’s going to be just fine.”

She nodded numbly, eyes still set upon the letter.

He gave her one last examination before turning to the cubs and foals gathered before them. “Who wants me to read the letter, eh?” He grinned at the cheers and promptly ripped the envelope open. Ice covered Fleur’s heart as she saw the words, the neat Equestrian script… and was that the emblem of the sun? Oh, sweet merciful Goddess, did Celestia write her rejection letter personally?

Doom weighed upon Fleur. She wobbled in place, but somehow managed to keep her hooves. It would mock her, wouldn’t it? Celestia was laughing at Fleur’s feeble attempts to get into her school. Her life was over before it even started! She’d be stuck in Grypha, a worthless orphan, a laughing stock, no, less, gutter trash!

Or maybe the truth was even worse. Maybe the goons of the Grypha government would steal her away, beat and break her and turn her into a weapon. She’d be forced to murder ponies in some hopeless war she didn’t want anything to do with, all because Celestia wouldn’t have her!

Fleur closed her eyes tight as Headmaster Kluv cleared his throat and began to read.

“Fleur Purpurnyj,

I extend the warmest of the Sun’s greetings to you, my little pony. I must admit, when I heard that one so old and with no formal education intended to attend my school in Canterlot, I had my doubts. Yet I have always believed that anypony may achieve great things with the correct application of hope, dedication and willpower.

These things you have shown in abundance. I have personally reviewed your test results and discussed the matter with the school council. Professor High Feather spoke to me directly regarding your oral and practical exams. Knowing that you have advanced so far, learning and comprehending things that most ponies require years to grasp, has left us all astounded. You are truly an inspiration, Miss Purpurnyj, and a shining beacon of what one can accomplish in spite of their humble origins.

The school’s course is clear. It is my great pleasure and honor to approve your application to the Royal Academy of Gifted Unicorns in Canterlot. Congratulations!

Being aware of your geographic and financial situation, I have prompted the school to grant you a full scholarship, and I intend to personally fund your journey to Equestria. You will find enclosed with this letter a ticket to travel via airship to Las Pegasus, from which you will be escorted to Canterlot proper. As you will be arriving early January, I would recommend beginning your formal education with the summer courses in June.

In the meantime, be prepared to live the life of Canterlot! All your needs will be met. A chance to rest and relax before going back to the grindstone. You have more than earned it.

I look forward to watching your progress, Miss Purpurnyj, and to meeting you in pony. Welcome to the Royal Academy for Gifted Unicorns!

Her Imperial Majesty,

Princess Celestia of Equestria”

The lobby was silent, all eyes set on Fleur as she gazed upon the letter. The words repeated in her head, again and again and again. Her legs shook, and there was a strange sensation in her chest she didn’t recognize. It was as if she were being filled up by some invisible pump, soon to explode.

The headmaster, shock filling his features, reached into the envelope and pulled out a golden ticket. He flipped it over once, twice, a third time. “All expenses paid,” he whispered in quiet awe. “All expenses paid. Holy pinions of Celestia…”

A pain in her chest was all it took to remind Fleur to breathe. The instant she did, tears erupted from her eyes. She all but flew into Headmaster Kluv, forelegs wrapping about his waist as she sobbed and grinned and laughed in a chaotic unleashing of energy. The entire orphanage erupted in applause, eagle cries and hoof stomps. Ponies and griffons jostled for position, eager to offer their congratulations and well wishes.

In her mind’s eye, Fleur could see Fine Crime grinning.










December  30, C.Y. 987 
Stalliongrad


Above them was the airship. It loomed as a giant of wood, metal and hydrogen, bobbing lightly in the soft wind. Snow formed a thin blanket on its great airbag, which only served to emphasize its mountainous appearance. Griffons and ponies were running all over the place, performing whatever myriad duties were required to get the vessel ready for launch.

Fleur noticed none of it. She faced Oryol, Nyektar and Headmaster Kluv with her head bowed.

“I’m sorry.”

They exchanged dumbfounded looks. “Sorry for what?” Oryol asked.

She fiddled with the small binder in her hooves, in which was hidden the golden ticket. “I wouldn’t have made it this far if not for you. All of you, and everyone at the orphanage. I can’t repay you for it. I… I wish I could bring you with me.”

They responded with quiet laughter, and Nyektar wrapped her in a warm hug. “The best gift you could have given us was the chance to watch you grow. We’re so proud of you, Fleur.”

Oryol stepped in to nuzzle her. “Yeah, we don’t need anything. But if it makes you feel any better, we’re all a lot better at magic thanks to you.”

Headmaster Kluv knelt down so he was at Fleur’s height. He had that warm expression again. She really liked when he had that expression. “It was a pleasure, Fleur. If you want to pay me back, then there’s only one thing I want.”

Fleur leaned closer, despite Nyektar still holding her tightly.

He rested his palm on her head and ruffled her mane. “Lead a good, happy, safe life. Use those amazing talents of yours and be a success. I’ll sleep better at night knowing that you’re happy and healthy wherever you go. Can you do that for me, kid?”

With a fragile smile, she nodded. “I will. I promise. To all of you. I’ll be strong, and smart, and happy.”

“That’s all we need.” The headmaster stepped back. Oryol and Nyektar did the same. All three beamed at her.

“Well,” Nyektar whispered, tears threatening to escape her eyes, “you’d better go. The ship won’t wait forever.”

Fleur stepped back, her own eyes burning, but happiness swelling within her. She gave them one last “Thank you” before turning and cantering through the boarding platform. She wanted to look back so badly, but she resisted the urge. She had to look forward, forward to a new future. Forward to a new life. Forward to Fine Crime.

The platform ended at a small door, next to which stood two mares and a stallion in attendant uniforms. The mares were checking tickets, and the sight made her smile drop. She fiddled with her binder once more, worries cascading through her mind. What if it was all some cruel joke? What if the ticket was fake? She hurried to whip the binder open and was relieved to find that the ticket was still within.

It was her turn. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she presented the binder to the pegasus mare, who smiled sweetly before taking the ticket out and examining it closely. Fleur barely avoiding bursting into tears when the mare’s eyes went wide. It was a fake! She was going to be thrown off, and then she’d never get to go to Equestria, and then—

A hoof touched her shoulder; she jumped high and yelped. She turned to find herself facing the pegasus stallion, who grinned at her with all the same warmth and friendliness as the mare had a moment ago. Fleur blinked at his colors: a light grey coat and a neon pink mane. It was a hideous combination, and that was being generous.

“You are Miss Fleur Purpurnyj, yes?” the stallion asked in Equestrian. She managed to understand him, but only barely. She abruptly wished she’d devoted more study time to the language. She gave a small nod, heart hammering in her chest as she anticipated the cruel blow to her hopes and dreams.

His smile only grew warmer, if such were possible. “My name is Hoofknife, and it’s my job to make your journey to Equestria as comfortable and fun as possible. Celestia wants only the best for a guest such as you.”

Her fears petered out at his words, her eyes growing wide as saucers. “Y-you mean, it’s real? I’m going?”

Hoofknife laughed and ushered her through the door.

“Oh, it’s real, alright. Come on, child.

“It’s time you started a new life.”
> Book IV - Fleur de Lis: Tending to a Demon
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------




Knowing that Fine is guaranteed to read this later, I must confess that I have always loved him. He changed my life in ways I cannot describe, and the only pony who could possibly share the sentiment is Octavia. The moment he first laid eyes on me, I was smitten. It was one of the most memorable moments of my life.

But, speaking strictly in terms of being memorable, that was nothing compared to the second time I met him. Those three months in the Canterlot dungeons will haunt me forever. It was then that I realized my infatuation with the stallion would take me places most sane ponies don’t want to go. I was terrified the entire time.

Yet I was also indebted.

I hate Celestia perhaps as much as Fine does, but I must also appreciate her. Had she not sought the path she had to ensure Fine’s suffering, I would not be where I am today. If she only ever did one thing right by me, it was that, even though her intentions were cruel. Now I sit here, writing in the forty-eighth Book of Shadows as a leading member of the most powerful clandestine organization in the world. Ponies live or die by my word, and the only ones who can stop me are Fine and Celestia. I have access to whatever I want, however and whenever I want it. By all rights, I’m living the high life of power and wealth.

None of this would have come to be without Fine. I owe him everything, from my power to my very life.

I would happily sacrifice it all if I could just give him what he wants.

—Fleur de Lis, Book of Shadows XLVIII,
May 16, 1007












December 24, C.Y. 989 
Canterlot


Snow drifted in lazy waves outside the window, but Fleur hardly noticed. Her attention was set upon the scroll in front of her, a quill scratching her solution in careful, elegant script. Four different books were spread out on her desk, and two scrolls rested on a chair to her left. A tight fit, but she made it work. The scrolls contained complex magical formulae centered around the efficiency of gem batteries, whereas the books focused largely on the intricate workings of illusion magic. Her eyes drifted from one source to another, her horn flaring every now and then to turn a page.

The only other sound was that of her roommate, a filly who was a year ahead of her in classes named Sliver Bright.

Equestrians had weird names.

Out of the corner of her eye, Fleur noted the bright red dress Sliver had slipped on. She looked alright, but Fleur wouldn’t say so out loud.

Sliver turned to her, the skirt of her dress swaying to her motions. “Are you sure you don’t want to go out? I mean, it’s Hearth’s Warming Eve.”

Fleur’s reply was a crisp “No.” She didn’t so much as glance up from her work. “I have too much to do. You know sat.”

She could almost feel Sliver’s eyes rolling. “More work? Fleur, you went from being epic-ally behind to a year ahead of everypony your age in just two years. Don’t you think you deserve a break, even for one night?”

A pause.

A look out the window.

Even with the cloud cover, Canterlot shined brightly in the fading daylight. The city was everything she’d imagined it to be as a foal. In some ways, it was better. In other ways, it was so much worse. All across the city, unicorns would be going out to party and celebrate the anniversary of Equestria’s founding. Surely there would be plenty of fun available for her to enjoy.

And somewhere in the depths, earth ponies and pegasi were packed together in the crystal slums, hungry and weary. Were they celebrating in their own way, or was Hearth’s Warming just another day to them?

When Fleur closed her eyes, she remembered a small closet under the stairs, and the chill winds that always invaded during the frigid winter nights. Supposedly the caverns beneath the city were quite warm, but how was she to know for certain? Fleur knew that could just have been a lie to make her feel more comfortable about the whole thing. All she could think of was what it might be like for that freezing closet to be multiplied a hundredfold.

Would Fine Crime approve if she went out with Sliver? She had no way to know, but she wanted him to be a good stallion, and if he was a good stallion…

“No.” She turned back to her books. “Forgive me, Sliver, but I von’t be going out tonight.”

Sliver stuck her tongue out, but quickly retracted it when Fleur shot her a dull frown. “Seriously, Fleur, you are so boring. There’s more to life than studying, y’know. What’s the point of getting a cutie mark in being charming if you aren’t going to use it?" when Fleur didn't answer, she added, "You’re never going to get a coltfriend if you never get out.”

Fleur’s cheeks flushed at the suggestion, and she promptly turned away. “I’m not interested in that.”

Her roommate’s tone turned wry. “Oh, yes you are. Don’t think I can’t hear you mumbling his name in your sleep. He must be mighty fine if he’s managed to catch even your eye.”

Fleur’s entire body went tense, her breath catching in her throat. Her eyes were set upon the scroll before her, but in her mind she only saw him. His smile, his commanding presence, his strange kindness… his back as he walked away. Leaving her alone again when all she wanted… all she needed…

“Oooh, I got you, didn’t I?” Sliver giggled and pranced closer. “So, what’s he like, huh? This mystery stallion you’re so—”

Something hot coursed through Fleur’s brain. She turned on her roommate, lips peeled back and eyes shining with dark promise. “Do not ever, ever speak of him.”

“Whoa!” Sliver fell back, her hooves raised as if to ward off a blow. “Easy, girl! Where did that come from? I was only teasing.”

Just as quickly as it had come, the fire in Fleur’s heart faded and she slumped over her desk. Even after all this time, the wound of being left behind felt so horribly fresh. “Sat topic not open for discussion. Go to party, Sliver, and leave me to vork.”

But Sliver did no such thing. “Are you sure? I mean, I thought he was a crush, but…. Fleur, if you want to talk about it?”

“I do not.” Fleur flipped a page in one of her books, even though she had no idea what she was looking at anymore. “Get out, Sliver. Before I start lecture on se mechanics of gemstone enchanting utilizing principles of—”

“O~kay!” Sliver was halfway to the door, one hoof raised in defeat and an awkward smile on her lips. “Off limits. Gotcha. I won’t bring it up again.” She opened the door, but paused halfway through. Fleur noticed her watching out the corner of her eye and tried not to bristle too much.

“Fleur?”

Repressing a groan, she turned to her roommate.

“If you change your mind, I’ll lend an ear. Okay?”

Fleur’s eyes narrowed as she thought on her response. At last, she gave a firm nod. “I vill… sink on it. I promise nosing.”

She turned back to her work, and after a few awkward seconds the door closed. As soon as it did, Fleur permitted her head to sag. She reached back to rub at her flanks, thinking on what Sliver had said about her cutie mark. It was true, she hardly ever got to make use of it these days… but then, she didn’t need it. Fine Crime wouldn’t be impressed by pretty words, flattery and etiquette.

If she ever saw him again. He said he was from Equestria, but she’d never expected Equestria to be so big.

She shook her head and sat up straight. Setting her shoulders, she attacked her studies with a renewed fervor, the same fervor that had driven her to excel at everything she did. Searching for Fine was out of the question, so she would just have to shine so bright he couldn’t ignore her. She would become the best Gem Master anypony had ever known, and get her Illusions Supremacist robe before she was thirty. He’d have to take notice of her then.

At least, that’s what she kept telling herself. Deep down, she also knew that she actually enjoyed these subjects far more than she’d ever expected. It had started off as tedious and challenging, but after working so hard with her friends back in Grypha, she’d come to relish the difficulty. The thought of overcoming her weaknesses, of being better than what everypony expected of her, of seeing the doubters so startled by her knowledge and abilities…

That made it worth it every time. Nopony would ever look down on her again.

And if Fine Crime happened to recognize her pleas for attention as what they really were, all the better.

Her studying continued in silence as the sun gradually set. Before long, she had lit a few candles to light her workspace. After a time, she went from theory and study to practical application, taking a few emeralds from her storage chest under her bed and lining them up on the window sill. Going back to her notes regularly, she began working her magic on the first one. Her goal was a simple one: storing raw data into the stones. It wasn’t new magic, but it was highly specialized and equally inefficient.

Fleur liked being specialized. She didn’t like being inefficient. She would find a way to do more than what others before her had managed, even if progress proved unpleasantly slow.

“Why gems?”

She blinked, her magical control fluctuating. When she refocused on her work, she saw that she’d applied too much energy; the webline she’d been setting had been ruined. It didn’t doom her experiment, but now she’d have to completely redesign the matrix. With a scowl, she turned to give Sliver a piece of her mind.

Her words died in her throat at the sight of the filly standing at her door. She was shorter than Fleur – most foals her age were – with an amber coat and a mane of reds and yellows. Even knowing this foal was younger than her, Fleur found herself struggling to form words. Excitement brewed with anxiety to leave her fumbling for something, anything to say!

“Um… excuse me?”

Brilliant. Fleur was tempted to bash her stupid skull against the table for that eloquent response. So much for her cutie mark saving the day.

The filly stepped further into the room, curiosity in her gaze. “You specialize in gemcrafting. Why?”

“B-because…” Fleur looked at the gems on her window sill, then back at the filly. Heat came to her cheeks as she realized how monumentally stupid her answer would be. “Because I vanted to be special.”

“Oh. That makes sense.” The filly beamed and trotted forward to gaze at one of the stones so closely her muzzle nearly touched it. “I never worked with gemstones before. I’ve always been better at elemental magic.”

Sunset Shimmer was studying her work. The Sunset Shimmer. Heart hammering, Fleur tried to smile and nod. “So I heard. I… um… I mean… V-vat brings you here, Miss Shimmer?”

Sunset giggled and turned to her. “I’m not a ‘Miss,’ that makes me sound old.” She sat and leaned a little closer, her ears perked and eyes curious. “So. You’re Fleur? I’m in the right room?”

“Yes?” Fleur glanced at the door, wondering how she’d missed its opening. More to the point, how was she supposed to address this pony? She didn’t seem all that mature compared to Fleur, despite being only around a year or two younger. Even so, she was the personal student of Princess Celestia, and Fleur had read the official reports. This filly had enough magic in that little horn to make Fleur’s illusions mere parlor tricks!

And yet, this overpowered unicorn was a filly.

“Is it true you also do illusions?”

Jarred from her mental reasoning, Fleur nodded. “I am. I hope to get Expert License next year.”

Sunset beamed and gave a light bounce. “That’s awesome! I hear it’s real hard for most ponies to master two types of magic.”

Another blink. “But aren’t you studying five?”

An eager nod. “Yep! I wanted to study six, but Celestia says I need to focus on what I’m already doing.” She pouted and kicked at the floor. “Too bad. I wanted to try combining the basic principles of pyromancy and geomancy with intermediate conjuration, but geomancy will have to wait a few years. It stinks big time.”

Fleur grew weak in the knees; she wanted to combine elements from three different schools of magic? And she spoke of it as if it were a simple thing! Fleur abruptly felt so horribly inadequate.

“You alright?” Sunset leaned forward once more. “You’re pale. Well, pale-er.”

“I’m fine,” Fleur managed to mumble. “Um… So. You came here looking for me?”

“Oh, right!” Sunset pronked, grin coming back in full spread. “Princess Celestia asked me to grab you! Er, I mean…” She coughed, tilted her head back to what was probably meant to be a regal pose, and said, “You have been summoned.”

Fleur’s stomach caved in. “S-s-summoned? Me?”

“Summoned. You.” Sunset giggled and gestured to the door. “Right now. She said it’s real important.”

“I… I…” Her throat felt like sandpaper. Fleur had met the princess once, but that was a courtesy greeting, a welcoming to her new home. She’d not so much as seen Celestia since then, and had never expected to. To be summoned out of the blue… “D-did she say vy?”

Sunset sat and tapped her chin, her tongue sticking out the corner of her mouth as she thought. Then she shrugged. “Nope.”

Fleur rocked on her hooves, feeling light headed. “Okay. I… Okay. Let me just— Am I supposed to bring somesing?”

“I dunno.” Another nonchalant shrug. Sunset trotted to the door, her smile not budging. “Better get going! I bet it’s something cool.”

Though her chest heaved and her mind ran in circles, Fleur managed to pick up her hooves and follow.









As they approached the door to Celestia’s private chambers, Fleur would have given almost anything to have more time to prepare. The frigid walk from the dormitories to the castle hadn’t been anywhere near enough to settle her nerves, even with Sunset’s curiosity-driven questions regarding griffon culture – a topic that had tickled the filly silly when Fleur brought it up. What she'd intended as a minor distraction ended up being the primary topic of conversation the entire walk.

Sunset had no intention of giving Fleur that extra time to prepare, walking between the stoic guards and pushing through the doors without so much as a knock. “We’re here!”

Fleur gaped at the open door, then glanced at the guard on the left. He returned the look, then rolled his eyes and shrugged.

“Uh, okay. If… If it’s okay?” She stepped tentatively through, almost certain those spears would be thrust in her path, but they didn’t so much as look at her funny. More than a little flummoxed, Fleur walked through. The doors closed behind her in silence.

She took in what could only be referred to as the height of opulence. Lush purple carpet, beautiful wood furniture, vaulted ceilings, and was that silver framing the pictures on the walls? Her head turned slowly, letting her take in every detail. The white marble walls almost seemed to shine compared to the drab rooms she was accustomed to at the school. To think, when she was a filly she’d lived under some stairs and thought whole, intact walls a luxury! That anypony could live in a place like this…

Sunset, you know you’re supposed to knock.

Fleur whipped around, but saw nopony. That had sounded like the princess, but where was she? And for that matter, where had Sunset gone?

“Sorry, Princess.” Sunset’s abashed voice came from an open door to left. Swallowing, Fleur turned to face the door and sat, making sure to stay as far away from the furniture as possible. Goddess, what would happen to her if she damaged something?

Sunset’s words began to tumble out, all pretense lost. “But I brought Fleur with me, and she’s interesting! She knows so much about griffons, things I never knew before. We talked and talked the whole way over and I learned so much! Now I really wanna go to Grypha and see what Stalliongrad’s like.” Her voice grew louder, and Fleur stiffened. “Oh, oh, do you think the next time you go to Grypha I could come with you? It can be part of my studies! Please, please, please?”

A chiming, playful laugh arose just as Celestia stepped through the door. She was everything Fleur remembered; luxurious white coat with just a hint of pink, that enigmatic and mesmerizing mane, and the perfect definition of grace. Fleur allowed herself only the barest of seconds to take in the sight before planting her muzzle to the floor, her legs trembling. At least she seemed in a good mood. That was good for her, right?

“I don’t know, Sunset. I’ll have to think about it. Now—”

Sunset let out a pitiful whine. “Think about it? That’s as good as a no! Come on, Princess, I’ll be good and study real hard.”

“You already study hard, my wonderful student. Now please—”

“I’ll study even harder! And then maybe you’ll let me study another field of magic. Did you know that Fleur—”

“Sunset?”

There was no bite in Celestia’s tone, but it did hold a certain commanding aspect that made Fleur’s ears fold back.

“Yes, Princess Celestia?”

“I would like to speak with Fleur now, if that’s alright.”

“Oh! Right. Sorry.”

A moment’s pause, perhaps to see if Sunset wouldn’t speak up anyway. Fleur thought she might be sweating.

“Ah, Miss Purpurnyj. Please, rise. It is good to see you.”

On wobbly legs, Fleur stood as instructed, but kept her head half-bowed and her eyes down to Celestia’s shoulders. “S-se pleasure is all mine, Princess.”

Another pause. Fleur bit  her lip and tried to control her shaking.

“Come now, Miss Purpurnyj, there’s no reason to be so docile. Look at me, please.”

Wincing, Fleur let her eyes meet Celestia’s. The princess smiled with a radiance to match the Sun, but the knot in Fleur’s chest refused to untangle. Why was she so… petrified? Some voice in her head screamed at her to bolt, but she didn’t dare act on the instinct.

Celestia set a hoof to her lips, appearing thoughtful, then regained her smile. “I think this setting is a bit too garish, don’t you? Come, let us talk in my study.” She stepped aside and gestured to the door she’d just passed through. Her horn shined, catching Sunset by the tail just as she was about to enter. “I’m sorry, Sunset, but this is going to be a private conversation.”

“What?” Sunset sat and looked between Fleur and the princess with a pout. “But I wanted to learn more about the griffons.”

“You’ll get another chance, I promise.” Celestia raised her head empirically, but her smile grew playful. “Besides, it’s Hearth’s Warming Eve. Didn’t you want to watch the show in the Celestial Theater?”

The pout was erased in an instant, Sunset leaping to her hooves. “Oh, the show! Can I watch from your box this time?” At Celestia’s nod, the filly cheered before raising her hoof in the manner of a general commanding an army. “Right! To the show, for Equestria!” She galloped off, calling back a “Thanks, Princess!” before disappearing through the front door.

Celestia chuckled and shook her head. “She loves the story of Equestria’s unification. Clover the Clever is her hero. Shall we?”

No more distractions, no more time to think. Fleur stared at Celestia’s pointing hoof, then at the door. Swallowing, she walked forward, tail between her legs.

“Oh, I’m not going to eat you, girl.” Celestia giggled and followed her inside. “Please, be at ease.”

Were Fleur not so anxious, she might have been surprised at how the large room she’d entered didn’t seem so lavish as the first one. While the first was heavily decorated and resplendent, this one felt more like a proper living area, complete with a few bookshelves, cushions and a couch facing a grand window. Granted, Fleur imagined that just those gold and white curtains would be beyond affordable for her even if she saved for her entire life, but at least this didn’t feel like it was screaming ‘power’ at her.

Maybe that was the point. Fleur had to admit, she did feel a little less intimidated. She followed Celestia into another door, this one leading to a much smaller room that had wood-paneled walls covered in bookshelves and a large, ornate desk. Celestia gestured for her to take a seat on one of the cushions, which she did, albeit very carefully; those cushions probably cost more than her entire education.

“Can I get you something? Tea, hot chocolate? I have an absolutely delightful batch of cherry-flavored kissel.”

Kissel? Fleur considered the situation, and who she was visiting. Her etiquette and cutie mark both kicked in at the same time, giving her an easy response: “Sat is most gracious. Sank you, Your Majesty. Se kissel sound lovely.” Rejection would be rude, after all.

With a charming smile, Celestia ignited her horn, and a hidden door opened in the wall behind her. White fog rolled into the air as a serving bowl and two smaller bowls floated out. Fleur stared at the door in perplexity until Celestia said, “It’s a refrigerator.”

“Oh. I’ve only known sem to be in restaurants and storage cars.”

As the bowls settled on the desk, Celestia gave a wink. “The perks of being a princess. Tell me, have you tried making one?”

Fleur blinked, then set a hoof to her chin. “I hadn’t even sought of it. I could make proper gems for it vis great ease, but do not know if my sermauturgy is good enough. Still, I can see sere are perks.” Realizing just who she was speaking to, she blushed and lowered her eyes, adding a sheepish, “Princess.”

Celestia shook her head as she spooned some of the red liquid into the smaller bowls. “Now, Miss Purpurnyj, there’s no need for such formality. You may call me Celestia, if I may call you Fleur.”

That seemed entirely inappropriate, but once again, Fleur’s training and social sense kicked in readily. “Of course. Celestia, sen.” If she weren’t so set on making an impression, Fleur would have patted her cutie mark in thanks for the calmness of her tone. She accepted the bowl of kissel with a pleasant smile. “My sanks for your generosity. I’ve never had kissel before.”

“Oh?” Celestia’s eyebrows rose. “And here I thought I would be helping you recall home with this offering. Might there be some other dish you prefer?”

Fleur’s response might have been formed in haste, but it came out smooth and sincere. “Not at all, I am quite happy vith sis. It can be a new experience. Dessert is not somesing I ever have.”

Now the princess cocked her head. “Did you never enjoy sweets back in Grypha?”

The knot was coming back. Fleur resisted touching her stomach and kept her smile pleasant. “Sveets vere available, but not to one so lowly as I.”

“I… see.” Celestia frowned, and for a moment Fleur feared she would dig deeper and ask about Fleur’s past. She undoubtedly knew Fleur came from an orphanage, but if she tried to go beyond that…

But the princess’s smile returned. She raised her small bowl, and after a moment Fleur did the same. “Well then, let us try it, hmm?”

And with that, they drank. The kissel was powerfully sweet, and the cherry flavor far stronger than she anticipated. Maybe a little too strong, and perhaps a little too sweet; Fleur might still be a filly, but she’d learned long ago that her taste buds weren’t so childish. Even so, when the bowl lowered from her face she was all smiles. “Sat vas delightful.”

“Indeed! My world-renowned sweet tooth approves.” Celestia licked her lips in a way that Fleur found unbefitting a princess, but theorized that even princesses could act ‘normal’ every now and then. Perhaps she wanted to put Fleur at ease. In a way, it worked; the anxiety didn’t feel so strong anymore, and the pleasant drink helped her relax.

Celestia took another sip of her kissel as she sat. “Now, Fleur. I know it might not have seemed like it, but I have been keeping a close watch on your progress over the past two years. I must say, I am very impressed. At the pace you have set, you’ll be a master of gemcrafting and illusions both within the next five years.”

Fleur’s smile, once a mask, now became far more sincere. “I did not realize I varranted such attention. After all, Sunset is younger san me, and she is vorking to master five magical fields. I do not believe I am even remotely qualified for such praise in comparison.”

Yes, a little modesty never hurt, no matter how proud she was on the inside.

Celestia shook her head. “Sunset needs to learn focus. By aiming her attention in so many directions at once, she fails to master anything. At the rate she is going, she will not advance beyond the intermediate level in any of her chosen fields. I did permit her to choose her own path, though, so that may be my own fault.”

“But even so,” Fleur replied with no small interest, “five magical fields at once! Most ponies struggle to reach beginner level beyond one field.”

“And you are set to master two of them.” Celestia’s smile only grew. “Do not doubt your own achievements, Fleur. You are a pony who will go places.”

Fleur’s blush had her staring into her bowl. “Y-you’re too kind. I don’t even know vere I vant to go.”

She blinked; did she really say that out loud? She raised her bowl to her lips.

“Hmm…” Celestia took another sip of her kissel. Her eyes, still set upon her guest, narrowed. “Could that be because you do not know where he is?”

Fleur almost dropped her drink, her response coming in sputters and coughs. She set the bowl down quickly and beat on her chest a few times, fire burning in her throat. At last she recovered, only to gape up at Celestia. “H-h-him?”

The princess’s lips curled into a knowing smile. “One Fine Crime, yes?”

Heart leaping into her throat, Fleur leaned against the desk. “You know? How do… Vere? You know vere Fine is? Please, I must know!”

The smile turned predatory.

“I was hoping you’d say something like that.”










December 25, C.Y. 989 
Canterlot Dungeons


Fleur’s emotions were, for lack of a better phrase, all over the place. Uncertainty, fear, hope, compassion, disgust, anger, it all flooded over her.

On the one hoof, her new room had everything she could possibly want. Bookshelves lined two of the walls, filled with all the magical tomes she could possibly want in her study of gems and illusion. A workbench covered half of a third wall. Her new bed was large enough to fit four Fleurs with room to spare, and she found out last night that it was by far the most comfortable thing she’d ever enjoyed sleeping in. In the center of the room was a U-shaped desk so big it might as well have been three, with all the room she could possibly want for her work and a wide, plush cushion in the middle of it all. A chest by the door held so many gemstones it made her little box under her old bed seem pathetic. Just outside, she knew there was a kitchen where she could make whatever she wanted with the ingredients given, and those ingredients appeared to be the best Canterlot could offer.

And it was a dungeon.

The bookshelves and workbench did nothing to hide the solid stone walls made almost black from age and stains. Not a single window graced her presence, and all light had to be produced by strategically placed torches. The door – her door – was a metal monstrosity with only a small opening at the bottom, presumably for food and water to be passed through. The hard stone floor was stained with things she had no interest in contemplating, and above the workbench hung rusty shackles that had been carelessly left behind by whomever had been instructed to put the room together for her.

Or maybe it wasn’t a case of carelessness. Fleur shuddered and turned away from the sight, pushing away any wayward thoughts regarding the things that may have gone on down here.

She sat on the cushion, which rivaled the bed for pure comfort, and wrapped her forelegs around herself. Part of her knew she was being treated luxuriously, but she couldn’t escape the thought that she was being placed under the stairs again. Cold air filled the dungeon, and she could swear she felt the wind creeping through cracks in the solid walls.

But the door was open. She was free to walk around and do as she pleased, within limitations. Three months, Celestia had told her. Three months of… this. One half living like a princess, one half as a prisoner.

She could do this. Her underlying goal was just within reach, and all she had to do was save a life. The most important life: his. If she could do that, what wonders would be in store for her future? Her life might finally be where she’d always wanted it to be.

So she could do this. Three months. What was three months compared to a lifetime?

“It’s time.”

Her heart climbed into her throat and remained there. She turned to find one of Celestia’s straight-faced guards at the door, watching her with cool disinterest.

This was it, the moment she’d waited three years for. Her hooves trembled as she slipped off the cushion and made for the door. Would he remember her? Would he be happy to see her? Celestia said his mind was troubled. Maybe he wouldn’t even recognize her. Perhaps he’d be angry. He had left her behind, hadn’t he? Or maybe this was all some cruel joke. Celestia wasn’t the type to do something like that, was she? No, surely not. She felt guilty for even thinking something so mean of Equestria’s shining light.

The guard walked her through the hallway, past the doors leading to the kitchen and the bathroom, and by the old passageway that had been bricked off sometime in the past. Another hallway appeared to the right, leading to a second metal door that remained closed; the exit.

Then, there was the last door. This one had no windows, and the metal appeared sturdier than the others. It was opened wide, and Fleur could just make out the form of Celestia within. The alicorn turned to the door at the sound of their hoofsteps, offering a beaming smile. It probably should have filled Fleur with hope, but all she could feel was her heart refusing to go back down to her chest and her insides churning.

This was it.

Oh, Goddess, this was it.

She stood at the door, entire body shaking. The room seemed so… dark. She could hear something back there. Rattling chains. Was it really that bad? She closed her eyes and recalled the first time she’d seen him. She could still hear the sound of her brother’s neck being shattered by his own horn.

Yes. Yes, she knew it could be that bad.

Swallowing to moisten her throat, Fleur opened her eyes and willed movement from her legs. What she saw was enough to finally dislodge her heart from her throat, only to send it crashing to the bottom of her hooves.

Shackles held each of his legs to the floor. One massive, oversized manacle clasped tightly his barrel. A bulky work collar rested upon his shoulders, and a bearing rein was attached to stuff a rubber bit into his mouth. The design prevented him from bending his neck below the shoulders or moving his head left or right. Set upon his horn was a small, innocuous ring, but Fleur had studied magic long enough to recognize that there was nothing innocent about an inhibitor. He lay on his barrel, body raised slightly off the floor thanks to the giant shackle around his midsection. Sweat beaded upon his brow and his eyes were wide with uncertainty.

Fleur had thought she’d at least be re-introduced to him before he was restrained, and even then, she hadn’t expected this. He studied her as if she were an oddity, making no attempt to speak around the large piece of rubber between his teeth. He looked like… like a frightened animal. A small voice screamed in the back of Fleur's mind, demanding she be afraid, but pity overwhelmed that instinct.

She flinched as Celestia’s hooves rested on her shoulders. “Do you recognize her, Fine?”

He could hardly move his neck, but she recognized his attempt to shake his head. The motion struck her like a knife to the heart, and she sank to her knees. So, she didn’t even warrant his recollection. After all this time, everything that she’d been hoping. Had he no idea just what he’d done for her? Tears welled in her eyes, but she blinked them back; Fine wouldn’t be impressed by a sobbing child!

“Tell him your name, child.”

I am not a child!

She felt foalish for even thinking it.

But then, her ears perked. He wasn’t in his right mind, yes? Maybe it was all the stress. Maybe he just needed a reminder. She climbed back to her hooves and looked him in the eye, praying her theory was correct. “My name is Fleur Purpurnyj. You remember me?”

Fine responded with a jerk that probably would have brought him to his hooves if not for the weight of his bindings. He still stood, however, his wide, wild eyes set upon Fleur in open recognition that made her heart flip. Then those same small pupils turned to Celestia. He tried to speak, but could only manage some nonsensical noise. Even so, it sounded…

Fleur shivered; it had sounded like a plea.

“I thought you’d recognize the name,” Celestia purred. She began stroking Fleur’s back, and she relaxed a little under the light touch of the princess. “That was your very first independent mission, wasn’t it? You told Hoofknife you did the job to perfection. Did you really think he’d miss that you let one member of the family live?”

The mission. Her family. It all came back to Fleur, but it was a subdued recollection. She cast it aside; she had no family. The one she’d known could rot in Tartarus.

But Fine…

His hoof reached up, but couldn’t make it to the bit in his mouth. He offered only a feeble struggle before giving in and resorting to that terrible pleading noise. Fleur didn’t blame him for being scared, all things considered. But still, this was Fine, her rescuer and idol; he wasn’t meant to be scared.

Celestia whispered in her ear. “Go to him. Reassure him. Tell him everything will be okay.”

Yes. Yes, she would do that. Fine had taken care of her once, right?

She took a step, and she saw him staring from the darkness.

In another, his knife had been buried in her brother’s stomach.

A third, and he was petting her, comforting her fears.

A fourth, and they were riding in the boat, the ice drifting in the calm waters.

A fifth, and she was laying by his side, comfortable and warm for the first time in her life.

One last shaking step… and he was walking away.

When had she started crying? She shouldn’t be crying. She was supposed to be strong now! He deserved somepony strong. Yet no matter how much she blinked and tried not to think about it, the tears kept flowing. With a weak hiccup, she raised her head.

He stared at her, doe-eyed and as still as a statue. His imploring gaze ate away at her desires, hammering home at last that this would not be the reunion she’d dreamed of.

The words came, unbidden. “I looked for you. I came all vay from Grypha. To s-sank you.” She reached up, touched his neck. It was real. It was real, and before she knew it, she’d wrapped her legs around him in a tight hug. The shakes returned to her body as she buried her face in the hair of his neck. As she relished the knowledge that she wasn’t dreaming, that he was right there for her to touch and see and speak to, her resolve began to grow.

“You saved my life. Now I save yours.”










January ???, C.Y. 990 
Canterlot Dungeons


Fleur was thirteen years old. At her young age, she could easily cast spells most fully grown adults wouldn’t bother to try. She might have been living off the royal teat, so to speak, but she had endeavored to be as independent and proud as she could possibly be under the circumstances. Ever since that day she’d been left behind, she had decided that she would be something better than her past – than her father – had demanded.

But now? Now she felt as useless as ever. Worthless and weak, unable to make anything go right. Her mane and coat were dirty, and she felt so oddly tired. Despite all her aspirations, she couldn’t help but feel like that same fragile, helpless filly who’d slept under the stairs and was never allowed to have lunch.

She sat in the kitchen, carefully cutting up the vegetables and fruits by hoof. She could have used magic, but this gave her time to think. Besides, she was used to cooking with her hooves.

There was a mirror on the far wall. A quick glance confirmed her dirty appearance. Two buckets of steaming hot water, covered in soap bubbles, sat on either side of her. She didn’t dare take advantage of them. She would only be given so much per day, and Fine needed them more than she did. Whatever was left over from his daily cleaning, she would use. Usually, it wasn’t enough for her to do a proper job, hence her current state, but it was better than nothing at all.

Fine needed it. He needed her. This would work, Celestia had said so.

With one last look at the food to make sure it had been diced small enough, Fleur put the knife away and scooped it all into a feeding bag. That done, she lifted a large case filled with a half-dozen white bottles and some thin rags, which she settled onto her back. The two buckets she carried with her magic, while she held the feeding bag with one foreleg via a simple strap. So prepared, Fleur made her way down the hall.

She cast a glance at the exit, half-hoping to see Celestia or one of the guards. No such luck, but maybe later? She hoped somepony would at least tell her how long she’d been down here. She didn’t even know if it was day or night, and Celestia wouldn’t let her out to find out. Her only method of telling time was a small calendar in her room, but her marks on it were little more than wild guesses. She marked it whenever she woke up and hoped that to be a proper indication of the passing days.

With a resigned sigh, she opened the door to the cell. Fine lay as he always did, chin resting on the floor and body as constrained as ever. Fleur hated seeing him like this; the stallion she’d met so long ago didn’t deserve to be caged in like some animal. Still, she tried to keep her smile pleasant. If she were in his horseshoes, she was certain she’d want a caretaker who remained positive.

Setting the buckets and box down, she trotted over to him and set the feed bag before his muzzle. “Dinner time.”

After a groan that made Fleur think of old ponies with complaining bones, he opened his eyes and gradually raised his head. He gave the slightest of jerks to one side, then noticed the feed bag. Seconds passed as he stared at the chopped up food. For all the freshness and variety, one would think he was looking at stale bread and brown grass.

Fleur’s ears folded back at the sight. Why did he keep doing this? “Come, Mr. Crime. Please?”

The stallion looked at her. There was nothing in those eyes, not even sadness. Fleur felt her heart ache for the hundredth time since this task had started, and she could only wonder what had happened to make him so broken on the inside.

At last, he raised his head high in rejection.

She pouted and nudged the food a little closer. “You cannot get better if you do not eat. Do you not vant to be better?” He made no attempt to respond, not even a glance. With a sigh, she lifted the bag in her magic and set it upon his muzzle. Once it was properly attached to his bearing rein, he obediently ate. For that, Fleur was relieved; at least he wasn’t outright fighting her anymore.

He was depressed. Fleur understood that well. She would have to be positive for him, help him through this. With that in mind, she reached up to rub his shoulder in what she hoped would be seen as an encouraging act. “Sere you go. Sat is better, is it not?”

No response, not that she’d expected one. Keeping her smile on, she turned to walk around him, prepared for the next step. What she found was a brown mess, and once again her heart sank. How embarrassing must this be? The first time it had happened had come as a shock, and she’d certainly felt a bit of revulsion at the thought. By now?

“Oh, you have made anoser mess. I apologize, I sought I had timing right by now.”

Pleasant voice. Willingness to help in any way.

Stay positive.

She dragged one of the soap buckets across the floor with her magic, then got to work cleaning his hind legs. She’d have to get rid of the dung on the floor, but that could wait until after, when she had the right tools. She glanced towards Fine’s face, but couldn’t see it at this angle. Oh, please let him be okay with this!

Okay, the icky part was over. Time for the most important step.

“Now, let us take look at you, hmm?” She walked a circuit, examining his bonds at the edges. It had been awkward before, looking so closely at his body. Now she ran her hooves lightly against him, right where the metal met skin. On his right side – the side he had flinched away from – her hoof came up wet and sticky.

Her heart sank at the sight. “Oh, you have bled again. You must not move so much, Mr. Crime, it only makes it vorse.”

He grunted, which she took as acknowledgement. Using the second rag, she began carefully cleaning around his bonds, wiping away any blood that might have accumulated. She tried to be as gentle as possible, knowing that what came next would be the worst part. Once certain he was clean, she set the buckets and rag aside and opened the case with its white bottles. Picking one up and a softer, thin rag, she walked to his side so he could see her.

She raised the bottle and rag and offered an apologetic frown. “Are you ready?”

He eyed the bottle, heaved a deep sigh, and nodded as best he could through the rein’s restrictions. He went stiff, and Fleur hesitated… but shook her head to clear it. This was necessary. He needed to be protected from infection.

She hated this part. If she could have gotten anypony else to do it…

A blue gel oozed out of the bottle onto the rag. Fleur made sure the stuff was well and thoroughly soaked in before stepping up to Fine and setting it on his side via magic. Biting her lip and bracing, she forced the thing beneath the clamp.

Fine jerked, his legs going taut and a snort escaping his nostrils. He groaned as the rag was forced deeper in, until Fleur could no longer see it and had to guide it by magical sense alone. Beneath the metal, the gel was being rubbed into his skin and wounds, sanitizing and providing protection to keep the rashes from getting any worse. It probably took only a minute or so to get the rag through to the front of his body and out in the air, but it felt like hours.

One down, a dozen to go.

Fleur refused to cry. She was hurting him, but it had to happen. She told herself that again and again, even as his groans turned into whines and his breathing grew intense. Just get it over with. That’s all she needed to think about, even as her heart cracked: just get it over with.

At last, she’d managed to apply the blue gel to every part of his shackled form. Fine’s head dropped to the floor, his entire body shaking.

Positive. Stay positive.

“Sere, no infections for today. You vill feel better soon, right?”

Please let him get better soon.

His glower made her fall back and turn her face away. Still, she cast a glance at him. How was she to know?

“I know, it is not easy.” She sighed and sat, shaking her head. “I do not understand vy I do sis. Princess said I vill make you better, but do I?”

Fine closed his eyes and let out a low growl. Her head sunk low once more. If only she could make him understand. She stepped closer, trying to think of what she should do. What would he have done?

Hesitantly, she began stroking his mane. “It is okay. Please, it vill be fine. You vill be better, ve will get out of sis dark place.” Her heart flipped as a thought forced its way out of her mouth. “And sen… sen you can look after me, maybe?”

His eyes rolled up to meet hers, and she quickly turned her head away yet again. Why had she suggested that? Stupid brain. Stupid mouth. Now wasn’t the time. Couldn’t she see how he was hurting? It didn’t matter that she was hurting too; her issues were nothing compared to his.

The chains rattled. With a sudden burst of energy, Fine jerked to his hooves and emitted a growl that was very different from anything she’d heard from him before. She jumped away as he lurched with lips peeled back around the rubber bit and his pupils dilated. He shook and strained against his shackles as if determined to reach her.

Fleur backed away, tail tucked around her flank at this unprecedented outburst. “Mr. Crime, vat is vrong?”

Another lurch, a hiss of pain. Fine’s eyes grew wild, his teeth gnashed his bit. She could see his muscles going taut in their effort to fight the chains. Then, just as suddenly, he began thrashing about, snarling and chomping like a wild animal.

Panic threatened Fleur’s tenuous self control. “Please, stop! You are hurting yourself!” She reached up to grab the sides of his face, struggling to hold him still.

He responded with a roar that, even through the bit, made her ears ring. Pure adrenaline and an unanticipated fear sent her scrambling back to press her side against the wall. Her heart pounded as she stared at this… this thing that was once Fine Crime. His horn glowed dimly, struggling to push some magic past his inhibitor ring, but the effort was for naught.

Fleur pressed a hoof to her chest and focused on controlling her breathing, which came in short gasps. What in Celestia’s name? “V-vat is vrong? Please, Mr. Crime, tell me! I vant to help!”

Just as suddenly, he collapsed. His chin bounced on the floor and he groaned, hooves moving as if to try and cover his head. When that failed he just let them fall, face contorted in pain.

Seconds passed. Fleur slowly began to reclaim her breathing, but her legs shook from a desire to get away. Questions swam through her mind, theories and potential answers and lamentations. Three weeks, Celestia had said. Surely this wasn’t what she’d been referring to? It couldn’t be…

Her ruminations were interrupted by a choked sob. Fine had tears running down his cheeks. His entire body rocked with his weeping.

“It is okay. P-please do not cry.” She hurried to his side and began stroking his mane again. “I vill make you better, Mr. Crime. I vill. It vas just little panic attack. In few moments I get fresh buckets and clean you again.”

A panic attack. Yes, that was it.

It had to be.










???
Canterlot Dungeons


A monster. That’s all Fine was now. She stared at him from the doorway, buckets on either side of her and the case on her back. She didn’t shake, didn’t cry, didn’t speak. Only watched.

The pony that was once her idol snarled and snapped and screamed. Tears ran down his face. Blood dripped from the shackles where his skin had torn in the thrashing. He didn’t seem to even notice the damage. Or maybe he did and didn’t care.

On the outside, Fleur was calm. On the inside, she wanted to scream just as much as Fine did.

This should have been a happy reunion. Fine was supposed to recognize her skills and personal growth and take her under his wing. They were supposed to be a family. She was supposed to be loved. This was...

She dropped the case, letting it crash to the floor, then turned away from the snarls and the ever-clinking chains. She walked in the one direction she knew she couldn’t go. It only took a couple steps to reach the exit, and then she sat and stared at it. A simple metal door. An inch of thickness between her and the help she needed.

How long had that door been closed to her? Months? Years?

Stupid. Celestia had said three months. Her calendar… she’d been marking it dutifully when she woke up, but had stopped paying attention to the dates. How was she even to know that her markings were accurate? She could be off by weeks and wouldn’t know.

Her breath fled her lungs at a terrible thought: what if Celestia had forgotten about them?

No. She shook her head forcefully; there were guards. They came by daily to deliver supplies through the little door.

Then… maybe Celestia never intended to let them out. Maybe this was punishment.

Punishment for what?

She closed her eyes and trembled, recalling the sight of her eldest brother on the couch, his face blue and distorted in the pain of death.

That’s right, Fine had come to kill her family. He spared her. Was that why they were trapped down here? Had Celestia decided this was a good way to finish the job and punish Fine at the same time?

That made this her fault. She’d not been able to convince him. He wouldn’t kill her, and now he was…

Her voice came out frail. “H-hello?”

She perked an ear, listening for a response that never came.

“I… I’m sorry.”

A shift of the head. She strained to hear anything at all over Fine’s indecipherable roars. When no sound came back, she moved to the door and pressed against it with both forehooves. It didn’t budge.

“Please. He needs help. I c-can’t…”

Fine let out a piercing scream combining rage with pain. The sound sent a shiver running slowly up her spine, and when it reached the back of her neck she sobbed and kicked at the door.

“Please! I’m not good enough! I can’t do this! Help him, somepony, help him!”

She banged until her hooves were sore. She slammed her shoulder against the metal once, twice, then just pressed her body against it. She ignored the moisture on her cheeks and collapsed to the floor, clawing at the small supply window. Somewhere deep down, her rational mind tried to explain how even her lithe body would never fit through that hole, but she ignored it and kept grabbing at it. She tried her magic, only to see her aura slide around the anti-magic enchantments.

At last, she curled up in the corner and buried her head beneath her hooves and tail. She didn’t think to translate her words. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. W-was I supposed to die? Is that what you wanted? Would you help him if I did? Please, take me. Do it. I’ll go, just make it stop.”

Time ticked by, or would have had there been something around able to measure it. Fleur cried until she could cry no more, and then just tried to drown out Fine’s shrieks. She closed her eyes and thought of magical theory, of gemstone enchanting, of the orphanage back in Grypha, of her days under her father’s stern gaze. It didn’t matter what she thought about; anything was better than this.

Anything.

At some point, she realized that her small, dark world had gone silent. Sniffling, she raised her head to gaze at the still-open door to Fine’s cell. Not a sound came from there, not even the clinking of chains. Had he fallen asleep? That happened sometimes, usually quite suddenly. It was like his body just shut down, probably due to exhaustion.

Slowly, she stood and made her way to the door, her legs wobbling. Holding her breath lest she wake him, she peered around the doorway with a lone eye.

Fine was awake. He lay with his chin to the floor, as always. Bloodshot eyes gazed out into nothing, drool and blood dripping from between his teeth. For a moment, Fleur panicked at the thought that he might have bit his own tongue. As she quickly drew closer, she saw that the blood was coming from his gums, perhaps from biting down too hard. It looked terrible, so she grabbed a rag from one of the buckets and prepared to clean his face.

He didn’t so much as acknowledge her presence, even when she applied the moist rag to his bleeding mouth. She went through the motions on autopilot, knowing that speaking was pointless.

He went on these quiet spells at times. They were rare, and she had to make use of them whenever she could. Quietly, she went about cleaning his wounds, being careful to ration her water, soap and sanitizing gel, for there was no telling when she would need them again. He could snap at any second, as she’d come to learn.

Why was she still doing this? Because she felt responsible? For all she knew, they’d never be set free. Fine might never be cured, and she’d spend the rest of her days tending to the health of a madcolt. How long before the sheer futility of the practice made her give up? Fine had saved her life. Taking care of him was the least she could do in return. If only there would be some sign, an indication that things would turn out okay. At least then she would be able to hope.

She turned to put the sullied rags into one of the wash buckets, and paused. Fine was watching her with one eye. There was no malice in his gaze, but for once it also didn’t seem lifeless. There was a spark of recognition in that red iris. Recognition… and concern.

For the first time in ages, Fleur allowed herself to hope. “F-Fine? Can you… Can you understand me?”

He only blinked. She took that for a confirmation, forcefully ignoring the potential alternatives, and stepped closer.

“I’m not going anyvere,” she whispered, and she knew it to be true. She’d had a moment of weakness, but seeing his comprehending stare reminded her that all had not been lost. “Ve’ll get srough sis. Togeser. I know it hurts, but I von’t give up. I promise.”

At first, his one-eyed gaze was confused. Then his brow furrowed, his eye closed, and a weak sob sounded from around what remained of his rubber bit.

“It’s okay,” she cooed, petting his head between the ears. “It’s okay. I promise, it’ll be okay.”

A thought occurred to her, and she jumped to her hooves. “V-vat am I doing? Food, you need food, vile you are still calm!” She trotted to the door, wondering how much she could cut up on such short notice. “It’s so much easier ven you are calm, and you really must eat more. Yes, you’ll feel better if I just—”

The growl made her stop at the door. Her ears folded, her head drooped. As the growling rose in volume, she peeked over her shoulder.

Gone was the awareness and misery in Fine’s eyes. The all-too familiar rage and hate replaced them, centered upon her as he chewed at his bit and tensed his legs. When he roared at her, she merely stepped outside and closed the door. Then she walked to her room and buried herself under the dirty covers of her bed. There were no tears, no whining. She didn’t even think. She just stared at the underside of her comforter and listened to the muffled shrieks until darkness overtook her.










March 12, C.Y. 990
Canterlot Dungeons


She stared at the door to his cell, buckets at her sides. She’d been there for some time, just gazing in thoughtless silence. Not a sound rose from the door. He’d probably passed out again. Not that she cared.

Fleur didn’t care about much of anything.

Yet again, her mind went through the motions, the questions, the doubts. Would anypony know if she just turned away to lay in her room? That would be better than staring at the knives again. In all likelihood, nopony would notice anything that happened in this dungeon. A dungeon she’d never escape, just like the task she could never quit.

For she couldn’t quit. Fleur had no idea why, but no matter how despondent her thoughts, she could not bring herself to cease. Perhaps it was just that she’d grown so used to it. Stopping didn’t seem… natural. So, though she had no idea what purpose it would serve, she pulled the door open.

Chains clinked as she stepped inside, her eyes set to her hooves. So, he was awake. The screams would start at any second now. All there was to do was wait.

So she waited.

And waited.

She frowned; what was wrong with him?

Wait, what if something was wrong? Tentatively, she raised her head.

Fine sat as upright as his bonds would permit, gazing at her with wide eyes. No anger. No hate. No blank, mindless stare. Only a slowly-growing awareness and confusion.

Fleur’s eyebrows rose along with her ears. No, she shouldn’t hope. But… “M-Mr. Crime?” She took a cautious step closer. “Do you… Do you understand me?”

He closed his eyes tight, and she winced in preparation. Seconds passed. He opened them wide again, and they were the same as before.

Did that count as awareness? After so long, could it be? “Mr. Crime?”

He worked his jaw, as if unaccustomed to it.

“Flrr?”

Her horn winked out. Air escaped her lungs and the two buckets on either side of her hit the floor with twin clangs. Even breathless, she still found herself moving across the room to grab him by the cheeks and stare into eyes that were, amazingly, clear.

“Y-you are okay? Not angry vith me?”

It couldn’t be true. As he stared at her, silent and wide-eyed, she braced for the inevitable backlash. Any second now, his expression would turn venomous and he’d begin screaming muffled obscenities at her. She knew this to be true… but still held her breath. Silent pleas swam through her brain at a mile a minute.

And then he did something wholly unexpected: he smiled. Not just a smile, but a grin so broad it seemed almost unequine. He burst into a fit of giggles as tears formed rivers down his cheeks. For the briefest moment, Fleur thought he’d fallen back into his mania.

But his eyes. Though blurred by tears, the happiness they reflected told her everything she could possibly need to know.

There could be no containing the elation that came with her comprehension. She dove forward, wrapping her forelegs around his neck. She couldn’t tell if she was sobbing or laughing. Maybe it was a crazy mix of both. Maybe she was crazy, but she didn’t care. Fine wasn’t angry. He wasn’t screaming. He was okay. All the fear, the misery, the feelings of hopelessness, they were all washed away with his muffled laughter and the comforting weight of his chin resting against her shoulder.

They must have remained that way for hours, alternating between laughing and crying into one another’s shoulders. Fleur held on tight, even as her legs began to ache. If she let go, she might find it all to be a hallucination, a desperate dream concocted by a desperate filly. As long as he was there, physically touching her, she could believe. She wanted to believe so much.

As time passed and their emotions settled, Fleur began to accept that this was real. And with that, a fresh excitement hit her. She thought back on her calendar, the one she’d dutifully kept track of even when it all seemed pointless. Was it accurate? If so, then it was…

Three days. He’d recovered three days earlier than Celestia predicted. Though her jaw ached from smiling so much, she couldn’t help grinning as she pulled away from Fine.

Her good humor faded a touch at the sight of blood on his collar. How foolish of her, to go hugging him when he was so raw! But he could take that work collar off now, and… and then… “I’m sorry, that must have hurt,” she replied, unwittingly reverting to griffon. “I just can’t believe it’s over. Oh, praise the sun, it’s over! And three days early, if my calendar’s right.” Her hooves danced as old dreams and fantasies dared to tiptoe back into her thoughts. “That means I can get Celestia to let you out!”

She turned away, then paused when Fine gave a muffled shout. Her heart all but stopped from the fear, but when she looked back he had his hooves raised as high as they could go and a pleading look on his face. With a relieved sigh, she took a step towards the door. “I am sorry, but I must get Celestia.”

He shook his head as best he could in his bonds, which wasn’t much. She blinked, uncertainty driving her hesitation. “No? But she is only pony who can free you.” Abruptly realizing she’d been speaking griffon, she forced her tongue back into Equestrian. “Do you not vant out?”

Fine sagged, breath whistling out from around his bit like air slowly escaping a balloon. He waved his hooves up and down at her, as if to calm.

“I do not understand. I sought you vould be happy to be free.” She leaned forward as he tapped his hoof on the floor three times. The look on his face suggested she was supposed to infer something. Maybe the count as important. Three… three what?

Oh. “Sree? Vy… You vant to vait sree days?”

He nodded vigorously against his bonds, the chains rattling. Even without the bit in his mouth, she would have recognized how fake his attempt at a smile was.

Her ears folded back and she chewed her lip. Why three days? If her calendar was accurate, they’d been down here for months! Didn’t he want to see the sunshine, feel the wind, breathe fresh air? Yet the more she studied him, the more she understood that he was completely serious. But why? Why would he want to keep living in this horrible place, trapped in those nightmarish shackles?

But then another thought occurred to her: she’d helped Fine. He was better, or so it appeared. If she got Celestia… would she lose him again? Would he walk away and leave her alone?

Three days.

She took a few steps closer. “Vell, I suppose. I really vant to get out of sis place, but… sree more days vouldn’t hurt.”

This time his smile was real, as was the nuzzle he gave her abruptly burning cheeks. She grinned and averted her eyes with a light giggle.

Yes, three days wouldn’t be so bad.










March 15, C.Y. 990
Canterlot Dungeons


Fleur pronked about the princess’s legs, unable to stop grinning. Celestia had come on the very day of her prediction, even having the courtesy of knocking on the door. Now Fleur could show her the fruits of her labor! The sheer elation could keep her bouncing for days.

“Vait until you see, Princess! He is new stallion. Come, look.”

The door to the cell opened, and there sat Fine Crime. Fleur had done her best to clean him up, although his mane was still a bright red mess and his coat ungroomed. He looked thin, too, but three days of giving him extra food couldn’t fix that. Though he appeared as a dog who’d just slept in an alleyway, she was proud of her accomplishment, and eagerly pranced to his side.

Celestia sat before him, her smile small and her eyes calculating. Fleur only beamed and leaned a little closer to Fine, ears perked to listen to the praise that would surely be coming her way. The princess said nothing, though. Not for a long time. She just stared at Fine, who gazed right back with a blank expression. Fleur didn’t understand Fine’s stoic manner; shouldn’t he be thrilled? Yet she said nothing, not daring to interrupt the silence no matter how much fidgeting she did.

At last, Celestia nodded. “Well, it seems you are all better. That wasn’t so bad, was it? Well, no time like the present. Let’s test this out properly, hmm?”

There was no fanfare; one minute Fine was a prisoner, the next the shackles were coming loose. Fleur turned to watch, only to lower her head and hunch her shoulders at the sight of furless skin, so raw as to be intensely red. Blisters and scabs covered his exposed body, and she couldn’t resist a shiver. Had he really put up with that for three months? What would he have looked like without her there to treat him with the gel?

The thought only made her shudders more forceful.

Celestia’s smile turned smug. “All better?”

Fine’s upper lip twitched, as if he were resisting the urge to bare his teeth. Then, slowly, he bowed his head to her. “It is. Th… Thank you, Celestia.”

Fleur’s heart fluttered, for his voice was everything she remembered. Oh, how she’d longed to hear it!

Celestia blinked, cocked her head and tapped her chin. “Really? Even knowing what a big favor I did for you, I assumed the nine weeks of ever-worsening agony would make you hate me for this.”

A smirk adorned Fine’s lips as he bent down to push the inhibitor ring from his horn. It hit the floor without a sound. “Disappointed?”

Celestia raised her hooves in a shrug. “Maybe a little. That’s okay, though, I’ll fix that pretty quickly.”

Fleur blinked, looking between the two of them. This conversation wasn’t going at all like she expected. Why didn’t either of them seem excited? Fine was cured. Shouldn’t they be reacting more strongly to this? Well, perhaps not Fine, as he’d had three days to get used to the idea, but still.

“I don’t doubt it,” Fine said, his frown coming back. “And for the record, I do still hate you. I’m just obligated to give credit where it’s due.” He leaned over and nudged Fleur, who broke into a wide grin at the contact. “Even if you didn’t spend the time with me like Fleur did.”

“Well, I do have a world of misery to run.” Celestia chuckled and turned to Fleur. Her voice became motherly. “Now then, I believe it’s time for a little filly’s reward.”

This was it! Fleur was bouncing before she knew it, beaming up at Celestia as a combination of pride and excitement coursed through her veins. So eager was she to hear Celestia’s praise that she once again forgot to speak Equestrian. “I did good, didn’t I? It was really hard, but I pulled through just as I promised!”

Celestia nodded and, to Fleur’s mild surprise, responded in griffon as well. “You did wonderfully, Miss Purpurnyj, and I’m sure Fine appreciates your hard work, but I’m afraid our business is at an end.”

Wait, what?

Fleur dropped to her haunches, taking those words in. What did that even mean?

Before she could formulate a response, Celestia turned to Fine.

“Kill her.”

If blood could turn cold, Fleur’s would have been ice. She leapt to her hooves to gape at the princess. “What? B-but I did what you asked!”

Celestia didn’t have ponies killed. She didn’t. That was more like what griffons did!

“And you did a remarkable job,” Celestia agreed, ever with that pleasant smile. “Yet I’m afraid you know far too much now. We can’t have unpredictable little ponies running around Equestria telling others about the cure for the Bloodmane, now can we?”

Fine turned to her with a jerk, and Fleur thought her heart had already stopped beating. She backed away on wobbling legs, shaking her head. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening! He’d not wanted to kill her in the past, surely he wouldn’t want to now. But he was approaching, and he was in a combat stance, and… and…

She pushed every scrap of hope she had into her words. “N-no, please. You saved me back in Grypha, I… I saved you now. You w-wouldn’t really kill me, w-would you, Mr. Crime?”

He took a step forward, but his legs shook with the motion. His eyes narrowed, his mouth opened…

“Celestia, wait.”

“Go ahead.”

As if a switch had been turned off in his head, Fine’s aggressive posture disappeared in an instant. He turned to Celestia and sat. Fleur could only stare, her mind torn between fear and confusion.

When he spoke, it was in an even tone of complete seriousness. “I think it would be better if we named Fleur an Archon.”

She blinked… then fell to her haunches. An Archon? Her?

Her attention was captured by Celestia’s light chuckle. “Ah, yes, I saw this one coming from a mile away. She’s a little young for Archon work, is she not?”

“She’ll be less obvious that way,” he countered, offering a confident smile. “She can’t be more than thirteen. If you check the records, you’ll find I was that age when I signed up.”

Wait. Fleur’s head whipped to Fine as comprehension dawned: he was proposing to hire her. Nervous excitement struck her at the idea, but a voice in the back of her head was screaming for her to run away as fast as her long legs could carry her. She couldn’t possibly listen to that advice, though.

“Hmm…” Celestia glanced between the two of them. “Of course, you’re just trying to protect her because she helped you through a traumatic ordeal. Will she really make for a good Archon?”

Indeed, would she? Fleur had known that fine was an Archon, but not once in all her fantasies had she imagined becoming one herself. Did that mean anything?

“You’re absolutely right, I am trying to protect her.” He nodded at Fleur, who perked up instantly. She knew he didn’t actually want to harm her. Maybe her hopes were going to come true, after all. And if that was the case, why would she even consider turning down an offer to be an Archon?

Not that she had a choice in the matter, of course.

Fine continued. “I’m also acknowledging a valuable resource. Fleur has no family ties – I personally made sure of that – and from listening to her these past few months I know that her primary direction for the past four years has been finding me. Then she remained here for twelve weeks tending to a raging maniac. I believe that’s called loyalty, and I can use it.”

Celestia’s smile turned into a wry grin. “You are enjoying this. Do you really think I hadn’t already thought of all that?”

“Oh, I know you did,” he replied with confidence. “But you weren’t going to let me take her in unless I made the arguments, right?”

His words struck Fleur like a hammer, and she sputtered at the idea. “T-take me in?”

Without so much as a glance in her direction, Fine performed a sharp gesture with his hoof. Fleur got the message and slapped her hooves over her lips. Her mind was running wild with the very idea.

She was so busy thinking of the possibilities and trying to control her wild heart that she barely noticed how long it took for Celestia to respond. “Very well. I will permit this. After all, she did do a good job and may prove valuable.”

Fleur gasped through her hooves. She almost fell over, being too happy to even think about keeping her balance.

Fine’s face didn’t so much as flinch. “Excellent. I will—”

Celestia’s hoof rose in a silencing motion. “I have one condition.” She turned to Fleur. “Listen well, little one, for this is important.”

Fleur dropped her hooves to the floor and nodded frantically. “I’ll listen, I will!”

“Good.” The princess turned back to Fine. “I don’t want the cure for the Bloodmane being known to the public. So, if Fleur ever reveals this information to the general public, you will kill her immediately, as well as any ponies she told. Am I clear, Fine?”

Fine offered the princess a toothy smile and replied through clenched teeth, “Like an expertly crafted window, seconds before I buck it into a thousand tiny shards.”

“Remember, those shards can cut deep.” Celestia giggled, then turned to the door. “Well, I’ll give you the night to recover. Tomorrow it’s back to the grindstone for you, my little pony.”

The princess left, not giving Fleur so much as a passing glance. She kept her head held high and a smile on her lips, as if threatening to have a thirteen-year-old filly killed was nothing to her. The thought left an empty feeling within Fleur, but that space was filled rapidly when she turned her eyes on Fine.

Who abruptly scowled, his gaze set on the now-empty door. “Goddess, but I hate that mare.”

They were alone. He was sane again. For the first time since Grypha, they could actually talk. Fleur knew exactly what she wanted to ask first, even as she dreaded the potential answer. With head low, she spoke. “Umm… Mr. Crime?”

His head turned to her, and the heat of his gaze faded to something much gentler. She swallowed the lump in her throat. It was now or never.

“Are you really going to take me in?”

His head pulled back and he rubbed his mane. He went through a number of strange expressions, none of which Fleur could identify. “Well… yes.”

It was as if somepony had detonated a firecracker in her heart. All the hopes and dreams of the past four years smashed into her reality at once. She didn’t even realize she’d moved until her hooves were wrapped around his neck in an embrace. “Yes! Thank you, thank you so much!” It seemed like such a paltry exclamation compared to the sheer, unbridled joy she felt at hearing those two simple words.

And that pleasure only doubled when she felt him returning the embrace, pulling her tight against his chest despite the blisters and pain it must have caused. He spoke quiet griffon in her ear. “You did me a huge service, Fleur. I should be the one thanking you. But know it won’t be easy.”

“I don’t care!” She pulled back and rubbed tears from her eyes. “I’ll finally have a family again, even if it’s just one pony. And the fact that it’s you makes it even better!”

She’d said it. Out loud, to him. And he wouldn’t deny it. Nopony could deny it!

But then his hooves were on her shoulders. He gently pushed her into a sitting position. Although his eyes remained soft, his entire demeanor had shifted into something far more serious. ““Now hold on, Fleur, I need you to understand this situation. I just got you named an Archon. Do you know what that means?”

Archon. She let the name roll around in her skull for a few seconds, trying to wrap her head around it. Everyone everywhere knew of the Archons, but what they were? Even to a filly such as she, the name held a distinct level of dread. She recalled that griffon lord, what was his name? She couldn’t recall, but he’d been a very important figure in her home town, and he’d been terrified of them. Of course, Fleur hadn’t figured out exactly who he’d been terrified of until later.

“Umm… I th-think so. Even in Grypha, everypony and everygriffon were afraid of Archons. It’s like being the Boogiepony.”

Fine rewarded her with a soft, pleasant smile. “That’s right, we’re boogieponies. We have to do bad things, but we try to only do them to bad ponies. Celestia will have us hurt the good ones too, though.”

The idea brought that unpleasant emptiness back. Fleur didn’t want to think of Celestia in such a way. It broke every rule regarding the princess that she’d ever known. “L-Like how she wanted you to kill me?”

He gave no answer. With a quiet horror, Fleur realized how close to death she’d probably been a few moments ago. “I thought Celestia was a good pony.”

Fine sighed and pulled Fleur close once more, his hoof petting her mane. “I’m sorry, Fleur, but she’s not. She’s the most evil pony in the world, and we work for her.”

The most evil pony in the world. Surely not! But then, after three months in this place…

Pressing her cheek to his naked chest, she gazed up at him with hopeful eyes. “D-do we have to? Why not just leave?”

Pushing her back slightly, he knelt to her level and offered a wan smile. “We can’t. It’s impossible.”

At her frown, he set his hoof beneath her chin. “I’m going to teach you. You’ll learn how to be an Archon, but you’ll also learn how to avoid hurting the wrong ponies. It’s going to be tricky, and I need you to be a good student. Can you do that for me?”

Could she be a good student? He had no idea what she’d been up to these past few years, had he? Besides, “I can do anything for you, Mr. Crime.”

His face twisted and his shoulders went slack. “Please, call me Fine.” She couldn’t resist a little laugh at that, even as he leaned over to study her cutie mark. “From here on out, you’re my apprentice. And… I’m giving you a new name.”

She thought on that idea, then burst into a fit of giggles. “I think ‘Fleur Crime’ sounds silly.”

“Actually, I was thinking ‘Fleur de Lis.’ ”

She blinked, then turned to study her flank. It seemed like such an obvious name, and yet it had a certain charm to it. Classy, even. She grinned and nodded. “I like that one.”

“Good.” He hesitated, glancing at the door, but then relaxed once more. “Thank you, Fleur. Thank you for staying with me all this time. You’ve given me a special gift, and I will never forget it.”

She thought on the last few months; the screaming, the isolation, the feelings of worthlessness, hiding in her bed and wishing it could all be one long nightmare. “It was scary,” she confessed with a shiver.

But then she looked upon this stallion, her savior and hero. She took in his wounds, which made him quite hideous at the moment, and the way his mane made him appear wild. But his eyes shone with kindness, a kindness that would be giving her a real home for the first time in her life. Family. Even if it was just a family of two…

“It was worth it.”
> Book IV - Fleur de Lis: Pretty Pony
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------




Fleur de Lis. I wouldn’t say everypony knows that name, but I don’t consider it immodest to say it’s well known. Of course, I’m not at all modest, but the point stands. I’ve been to no small number of fashion shows under my cover identity, and nowadays the suitors amuse me at best. They may never know that I only have eyes for one stallion. Too bad he’s been stolen from me…

None of those ponies know how I used to feel. If you’d told me when I was thirteen that in a couple years colts would be putting my picture on their bedroom walls – and that I would like the idea – I would have accused you of having too much extract. I was convinced that colts weren’t interested in me, and besides, I was too focused on my work and my boss to care. I’d never really paid much attention to my own body. My father and brothers treated me like an ugly filly, so I just assumed that to be the case.

Then came the days leading up to my fourteenth birthday.

Oh, Fine. You can be such a nice guy when you want to.

—Fleur de Lis, Book of Shadows XLVIII,
June 11, 1007












March 20, C.Y. 990 
Canterlot


The fountain made no sense whatsoever. It stood tall, its central column surrounded by statues of ponies from every race, all bowed in supplication to the great alicorn above. Below the ponies were a wide variety of races, all prostrate and being used as little more than stepping stones for the ponies above them. Water poured from the alicorn’s horn, flowing along her wings and tail to drip upon the heads of the ponies below, and then going farther to pour widely over the other creatures. The intent of the imagery was obvious, and it made sense in that there was a purpose to it.

But this vast work of art, with its superb craftsmareship and clear philosophical message, was situated in a room it barely fit in, with no windows or observation posts. It was as if it had been made for the express purpose of staying hidden.

Fleur stared up at the alicorn’s pale, emotionless face. Was it meant to be Celestia? It didn’t look like her at all.

Fine sat by her side, his coat lacking much of its hair and his mane still its natural, brilliant red. She could understand the coat would take time to heal, but after almost a week, didn’t he want to dye his mane again?

He spoke in griffon. “Do you recognize her, Fleur?”

She looked to the alicorn’s face again with a frown. “No.”

“It’s Princess Luna.”

She furrowed her brow, then glanced at him. “Who?”

He returned the look, expression soft. “Celestia’s younger sister.”

“Oh.” Celestia had a sister? Fleur observed the statue a little more closely. There was a resemblance, but only a slight one. She turned her attention to the ponies and creatures below the alicorn’s hooves. “Is she bad like Celestia?”

He gave a light laugh. “That’s… hard to answer. She can be good or she can be evil. It depends.”

Fleur cocked her head at him. “Depends on what?”

“Who is telling the story.”

This made no sense at all, but Fleur responded with only an “Oh.” Perhaps pretending to understand would be better than revealing her ignorance. “So where is she?”

“On the moon.” Fine stepped forward and dipped his hoof in the small circle where some of the water fell. Rather than one big pool, the assorted streams all landed in individual, small basins, such as the one just in front of Fleur. “Or in the moon. Never was clear on that. I only met her once, and she didn’t tell me much.”

Her jaw dropped. “You’ve been to the moon?”

Fine laughed, a far more honest and loud sound compared to the previous one. “Of course not, you silly filly. She came to me in a dream.”

“Oh.” Fleur chewed her lip in contemplation. “I thought only the Nightmare Pony could do that.”

He shot her a curious look. “She is the Nightmare Pony.”

The hair on Fleur’s back rose. She crept backwards, suddenly much more wary. “R-really?”

“Indeed.” He turned his face high to observe the statue. “When her evil half manifests, she becomes Nightmare Moon, bringer of Eternal Night.” He turned to set his hoof under her chin, guiding Fleur to look at him. “Just like you and me, she is a victim. She was Celestia’s first casualty.”

Fleur’s eyes darted to the statue’s face and back to his a few times. “I don’t understand.”

He shrugged and stepped back. “Eh, that’s okay. Maybe I’ll give you more details when you’re older. I didn’t bring you here to discuss ancient history.”

“No?” Her ears perked and she sat up straight. “Then why are we here?”

“For this.” He gestured to the water falling before them. “It’s time to start your training. The water test is a great start.”

“Water test?” She took a few cautious steps forward and peered at the dripping liquid before her. She couldn’t see anything special about it. She sniffed and detected no odd scents. It wasn’t a weird color. “What’s the water test?”

He smiled and gestured at the water once again. “I want you to hit the water.”

She blinked, shoulders slumping. “Um, hit the water?” At his nod, she shrugged. “Okay.” She sat and raised her foreleg, prepared to give a light punch.

“Without hitting the water.”

Fleur paused, then stared at her hoof as if it might do something miraculous. “I don’t… Oh!”

Her horn lit up, and the water parted into two streams due to a small, conical shield. She promptly thrust her hoof through the new opening, pulled it back, and gave him a grin.

Fine stared at her, ears folded and face slack. She winced and looked from the water to him. “Did I do it right?”

He pressed a hoof to his forehead and sighed. “Points for thinking outside the box… and making me feel stupid. I wish I’d done that when I was first given this task.”

She frowned, brow furrowing. “So… I did it wrong?”

Fine flashed a reassuring smile. “You did it wrong in a good way.” He raised his hoof and gave a small jab at the air. “No magic, Fleur. Just a simple hit. Go on.”

Her frown intact, Fleur examined the falling water. How was she supposed to hit water… without hitting it? She tried wrapping her head around this conundrum for a few seconds, but finally decided to do the obvious: she raised her leg and punched. Her hoof came back wet, as she expected. She examined it, then cast a curious look at Fine.

He grinned and moved a little closer to the water. “Not easy, huh? Like this.”

His hoof flashed forward, far faster than it had the first time. It went right through the stream, but when he displayed his fetlock to her, it was completely dry.

Fleur could only gape. “How did you do that?”

“Speed and reflex.” He punched again, then with his other hoof. Both came out dry. “You learn to watch the water and know when to strike, but you also have to be fast enough to pull your hoof out before the water hits.”

She peered at the water, coming so close it nearly fell on her muzzle. “So… I have to strike between the drops?” She sat back and tried again, only to bring a wet hoof back.

He nodded encouragingly. “You’ve got the concept, or at least the surface of it.”

She tried with her other forehoof. Upon yet another failure, she pouted and shook her hooves free of water. “What good is this supposed to do?”

Setting a hoof to her shoulder, he spoke quietly. “You’re going to be an Archon, Fleur. You need to be able to defend yourself. This is the first step to that goal.”

Defend herself? “But can’t magic do that?”

“And what if you lose your magic?” He tapped her horn lightly, making her flinch. “What if you end up with a horn ring on your little head? How would you defend yourself then?”

With a huff, she turned away and crossed her forelegs. “I just won’t let that happen. I’ll be too good.”

“Is that what you think?”

“Yes.”

His lips were near her ear, his voice only a whisper. “Do you think I killed your family with magic?”

Her entire body went stiff. Slowly, she turned to stare at him out of the corner of her eye. His face, right there at her side, was hard, his lip curled back to show his teeth. And his gaze... She recoiled, shivering as she recalled that first night that seemed like so long ago.

Then, as if nothing had happened, he was sitting up once more and smiling. “Magic is useful, Fleur, but it isn’t everything. You need to learn to defend yourself without it, or at times be able to use both your hooves and your magic at once.” He pointed at the water. “Practice. Every day. Two hours minimum.”

She gaped at him. “Two hours? B-but, what about school? I want to master illusions and gemcrafting!”

“Good, because you will still be attending classes and studying those things.” He leveled her with a firm look. “This is important, Fleur. I intend for you to bury me, not the other way around.”

She pouted once more and eyed the water. Two hours seemed like a terrible sacrifice. It was bad enough she had to sleep when she could be studying, but now this? Still, she was Fine’s apprentice now. She couldn’t say no, could she? “I guess. But if it takes longer for me to get my Supremacies, it’s your fault.”

Fine paused. “Wait, you’re going for dual supremacies?” He stared at her for a couple seconds, then shook his head. “And I thought I worked too hard.”

“I’ll do it!” She raised her muzzle in a haughty pose. “Maybe not dual, but at least in Illusions. I want to get a Mastery in gemcraft, though.”

“That’s still crazy.” He chuckled and offered her a light smile. “If that’s what you want, I’m not going to stop you. But—” The smile faded. “—you’re still going to train. I’m not going to let my apprentice die young because she didn’t learn how to throw a proper buck.”

She grumbled and glowered at the water, then swung her hoof through it. Still wet. “Fine. I’ll figure this out and get it over with.”

He chuckled at her glare. “You do that. It’ll only take two years.”

Grinding her teeth, Fleur sat up straight and prepared both her forelegs. “I’m not that slow.” She kicked with one, then the other. Still wet. Undeterred, she began to alternate her kicks in a rhythmic fashion. “Six months.”

He patted her on the shoulder. “Keep telling yourself that.”










August 18, C.Y. 990 
Canterlot


Fleur glared at the water, her eyebrow twitching. It continued to drip into the small basin, innocuous and uncaring.

“I’m going to figure you out.”

The water offered no reply.

Growling, Fleur flipped the hourglass at her side and raised her hooves in the aggressive posture Fine had taught her. Balancing with practiced ease, she peered at her foe. She counted the drops, her right foreleg tensed in preparation. Three drops… eight… twelve…

Her hoof flashed forward.

It came back wet.

Grimacing, she started over.

Count the drops, punch, start over.

Count the drops, punch, start over.

She wasn’t even paying attention to the hourglass. All her focus was on the water, her timeless enemy. She would get this right. She was determined. Two more days. She couldn’t fail. She said she’d get it done, she would get it done! Strike after strike, wet every time.

Her blood boiled. Why was this so hard?

“Hey, birthday filly.”

With a cry, she spun about and struck, only to have her attack caught by the frog of a hoof. She blinked, then recoiled. “Don’t sneak up on my like that!”

Fine laughed at her scowl. “That never gets old.”

She huffed and crossed her forelegs. “Maybe to you. Some ponies don’t like surprises, you know.”

“Oh. Well, in that case…” He turned his head away in a haughty pose as his horn glowed, lifting two gift-wrapped boxes from his back. “I guess I’ll just keep these for myself. A pony who doesn’t like surprises surely doesn’t like gifts.”

Though her pose didn’t change, Fleur’s face went slack. “W-what? You… brought me gifts?”

“Of course! A filly should gets gifts for her birthday, shouldn’t she?”

Fleur cocked her head. “But my birthday’s not for another two days.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” The boxes resettled on his back and he turned away. “You probably don’t want them.”

“Wait!” She raised her hoof at him, then froze at his smirk. With a blush, she sat back down and rubbed her forehooves together. “Y-you really got me gifts?”

He turned back and set the two boxes down before her. “Well, in truth I only got you a gift. The square one’s cake. Strawberry flavored.”

Fleur looked to the boxes, then to Fine. She felt lost, uncertain of what to do or say, but deep down she felt a strange… lightness.

His eyebrows rose. His smile broadened. “Well?”

“I…” Her hooves hovered over on of the boxes. The ribbons were red, the wrapping paper a light pink. She just stared, mind blank, taking in the colors through a haze. Her hooves began to shake.

“Feur? What’s wrong?”

Her eyes were burning. Her throat constricted.

“A… A present. You bought me a-a present.”

He shuffled in place. “Uh… yeah?”

She pounced, hugging his neck tightly and burying her face in his mane. Tears poured down her cheeks, but she ignored them. Fine went stiff, but eventually patted her shoulder with an unsteady hoof.

“Uh… Fleur?”

She fell back, grinning through her laughter. “Thank you, Fine! I’ve never received a present before.”

He blinked, then leaned a little closer. “Never?”

“Never! This is…” She brought her knees to her chin, fighting to contain her enthusiasm. She broke into a fit of giggles and, unable to hold it back, began to pronk in place. “Best. Birthday. Ever!”

A touch of pink reached Fine’s cheeks as he smiled. “Okay, okay, it’s not that big a deal.”

“Yes, it is!” She gave him another quick hug, then grabbed the gift and shook it with her ear close by. “It so is. A present. You bought me a present!”

He averted his gaze, cheeks still glowing and a lopsided smile on his lips. “Are you gonna gonna shake it or open it?”

“Oh, right.” She set the box down and observed it from several angles. Eagerness swelled within her, made all the harder to resist by the happiness bubbling inside. But resist it she would, for this was her first present ever, and she was determined to savor it. She found the edge of the wrapping paper and carefully, delicately began to remove it.

Seconds passed, her heart pounding and her brow furrowed in concentration. The grin just wouldn’t leave her face!

Fine looked down at her work. “You do know you don’t have to protect the wrapping paper, right?”

With a giggle, she replied, “You open your gifts your way, I’ll open my gifts my way.”

“Whatever you say, Little Miss.”

Though it took no small amount of concentration, Fleur at last managed to get the wrapping paper removed. And with only a few small tears, too. Grinning, she gently set it aside and pulled open the box. What she found brought a small gasp out of her.

It was a dress. Most of it was blue, but there were black accents and trim, and small jewels decorated the shoulders and chest. She felt at the fabric and found it to be soft like silk. Carefully, she lifted it in her magic, turning it slowly to catch every angle. “This is…”

Fine shuffled in place yet again, his gaze turned away. “I, uh, know you were eyeing it. When you went to the etiquette courses. I thought, you know, you might like it.”

She turned to him. “H-how? You never attend those classes.”

He gained a wry smile. “I have my ways.” The smile faded and he stared at his hooves. “You do like it, don’t you?”

“Of course I do! It’s beautiful.” She grinned and felt at the soft fabric once again. “I never cared about clothes until I came to Canterlot. Even then, I always thought they’d be beyond my reach.” She gave him another hug. “Thank you, Fine! It’s wonderful.”

But then a thought occurred to her. She turned back to the dress with a small pout. “Oh… but… when will I wear it? It’s a little much for school, isn’t it?”

“Glad you asked. How old will you be?”

With a quizzical glance, she replied, “Fourteen. You should know that.”

His lips parted in a toothy grin. “Perfect. Just the right age to introduce you.”

Head cocked, she carefully set the dress back in the box. “Introduce me to what?”

“Canterlot.” He set a hoof to her shoulder. “I intend to groom you for a specific role, Fleur, one that I know you’ll excel at. You’re still too young for the real missions, but your cover? We can start that at any time.”

Her ears perked. That giddy feeling came back and her legs did a little dance. “Finally! I can’t wait to prove myself. What’s the cover going to be, huh?”

Fine sat back and tapped his chin with a wry smile. “Well, let’s see. Your special talent involves being charming. Your etiquette is near perfect, you’ve got grace and poise, plus you’re specializing in illusion magic.”

“And gemcraft!”

“And gemcraft.” He nodded as his smile broadened. “You can speak two languages, and I note you’ve been learning Prench recently. With the right outfit, you can look downright aristocratic.”

Fleur was leaning forward by now, hanging on to his every word. She knew he was leading her on, trying to build the suspense. She didn’t mind at all.

He eyed her for a moment, perhaps to tempt her a little. “You are going to be what we in the spy industry refer to as a ‘Little Princess.’ ”

All her thoughts slowed at the term. She eyed her hooves, brow low, then looked at him again. “A… what?”

“A Little Princess,” he repeated. “A Killer Queen?” At her dumbfounded expression, he scratched his chin in thought. “Femme Fatale?”

She latched onto that last one, eyes going wide. “Oh. Oh! Femme Fatale! I know what that is.” She blinked, then felt the blood rushing to her cheeks. “Whoa, w-wait a minute. Fine, I’m not near pretty enough for that.”

He threw his head back and laughed. “Not pretty? Fleur, have you ever looked in a mirror? Or better yet, haven’t you payed any attention at all to the colts at school?”

She opened her mouth, hoof raised… then ducked her head. “Um, no?”

Fine smirked. “Muzzle in a book all the time, eh? Well let me tell you: while you’re staring at magical equations and gem lattices, the colts are looking at you. I’ve had a number of agents suggest I send you down this track. While I question their incentive, I don’t think they have the wrong idea.”

Fleur’s brow furrowed. She shuffled and gave herself a once over. She saw legs that were too skinny, a neck that was too long and colors too pale to be considered engaging. “But I’m really not much to look at.”

Fine was silent, and she didn’t want to look at him. So she stared at her too-small hooves and pouted. Of course he would recognize the error of his suggestion once she pointed it out. How had he ever gotten such an idea? She was tempted to go hide in some corner where nopony could see her plainness.

“Fleur… Hasn’t anypony told you?”

She pulled her head back between her shoulders. “Told me what?”

A long pause.

“How pretty you are.”

Her head whipped up. She bared her gritted teeth at him. “Don’t do that.”

Rather than be intimidated, he merely tilted his head. “Do what?”

“Don’t lie about something like that!”

He leaned back, ears folded, but recovered swiftly, studying her with a hawkish gaze. Fleur merely snorted and leaned closer, her front lowered into an aggressive pose.

Fine sighed and rubbed his forehead. “By the Moon, you’re serious. Alright, forget the cake. Forget the damn water training, or studying, or anything. You and I are going out.”

Fleur’s ears lowered, her glare shifting to raised eyebrows and an uncertain frown. “Going out?”

“That’s right. You’re gonna put on that dress, we’ll eat at the fanciest restaurant in town, and you’re getting a makeover. And then—” He thrust a hoof in her face. “Then you’ll see how pretty you really are.”

She pushed his hoof out of the way, making room to gawk. “You can’t be serious. I have work to do!”

“Not tonight, you don’t.”

“But I— You can’t—” Fleur covered her burning face beneath her fetlocks. “This is not going to end well. Can’t we just forget we had this conversation?”

“No.” He walked until he was beside her, wrapped a leg around her shoulder, and leaned in close. He spoke with an earnestness she was reasonably sure she’d never heard from him before. “It’s not right, Fleur. What your father and brother did, how they made you look at yourself? It’s not right. You deserve better, and if nopony else is going to give it to you, then damn it, I will.”

He released her and turned away. Fleur stared at his back, fear rising in her mind at what he was about to put her through. When no other words came to her, she shouted, “But what if I don’t want to be pretty?”

He paused, tapping his chin with head held high. “Hmm… I suppose it’s possible.” He turned back to her and smiled. “Alright, I’ll make you a deal. We do this tonight, and if you decide you don’t like it then I won’t press you anymore. I’ll find some other way to focus your talents.” He raised his hoof to her. “Deal?”

Eyeing his proffered hoof warily, Fleur thought on the suggestion. Going out tonight and doing the things he said would be nothing short of mortifying. She could already hear the ponies at school laughing at her for even attempting to be attractive. Besides, there was no value in it. What good was being pretty going to achieve for an Archon?

But then, if she put up with it for one night, he’d drop it. She could nip this problem in the bud and not have to lose a lot of valuable time. One evening wouldn’t ruin everything.

With a sigh, she accepted his hoof bump. “Fine. Let’s get this over with.”









Fleur stared into the mirror of the dressing room. Her dress was black, composed of many layers with small decorations of lace. It wrapped around her body snugly, with a long V-shaped neckline criss-crossed with white thread. White stockings covered her legs and dainty black shoes adorned her hooves. Her mane draped over her shoulders to curl at the ends and shimmer in the light. It felt soft against her skin in a way she’d never imagined it could, and when she turned her head her locks bounced pleasantly.

On her face was only the smallest touch of makeup, giving her cheeks a rosier appearance. Nothing for the eyes, no lipstick. Compared to the rest of her body, her face felt downright naked.

And yet…

She turned to admi—observe her profile. Had her body always been shaped like that, or was the dress playing tricks on her mind? It wasn’t as uncomfortable as she’d expected. If fact, she found she could move quite easily. She tested this concept by walking a small circle, raising her legs high, and even bouncing once. Her dress remained intact, the skirt flowing about her legs almost like water. It was a little heavy, but not too bad.

The mare beside her – owner of the boutique – clapped her hooves. The pony’s grin hadn’t faded since the moment she’d learned Fleur was to be given a new dress. “Oh, I knew it would suit you perfectly! You were practically born for Cobic Filita!”

“Umm… sanks, Miss Cayenne.” Fleur’s cheeks burned as she took another look in the mirror. She fidgeted and chewed her lip, ears folding back. Maybe it did look kinda good on her.

The fashionista bumped Fleur’s shoulder and nodded for the curtained doorway behind them. “Come on, let’s show that uncle of yours the prettiest filly in Canterlot!”

That’s right, Fine was supposed to be her ‘uncle.’ Fleur wasn’t sure she liked that, though she couldn’t say why. She permitted the mare to drag her to the curtains as butterflies made quick work of her stomach. Fine would see. Sure, maybe she thought the dress looked… a little pretty on her, but that was the dress, right? She was still just Fleur. He’d notice, and then he’d change his mind, and then…

And then what?

“Thank you for waiting, Mr. Mud Pie!” Cayenne pulled the curtain open with her magic and stepped into the boutique’s showroom, high stepping as if she were the leader of some parade. “Just wait till you see what your niece looks like, she’s simply to die for!”

The butterflies tripled in number. Fleur swallowed and, keeping her head down, stepped out of the room. Oh, this was such a bad idea! Her eyes rose gradually. Fine sat on a bench on the opposite wall, and he wore a smile.

Not just a smile, though. He was absolutely beaming. He tapped his hooves on the floor in quiet applause, and she turned her face away quickly. If her cheeks got any hotter, what little makeup she had would melt.

“You’re beautiful, Fleur. I told you you would be.”

“I—” She closed her eyes, heart pounding. He was just saying that, wasn’t he?

Cayenne trotted around her, having all the appearance of a foal at Hearth’s Warming. “She’s magnificent. Her shape, her poise, her grace! I’ve worked with many a pony in my time, Mr. Mud Pie, but never has a walk-in possessed her level of natural talent. I’ve got a half dozen ideas from her colors alone!”

Fleur would have sat down were she not afraid of ruining the dress. She shifted from hoof to hoof, unable to stop the smile from coming to her lips. “I… umm… S-sank you.”

Fine smirked and waved a dismissive hoof. “Come now, Miss Cayenne. She’s my niece, I know how perfect she is. There’s no need to flatter her more. Believe me, you’ve made a sale.”

The air left Fleur’s lungs. She gaped at Fine, his words seeping into her mind. He was really going to buy her this dress? It had to cost a fortune compared to the other one! She was tempted to object… but it was really nice. It wouldn’t be all that bad if she accepted it, right?

“A sale? Are you kidding?” Cayenne brought a leg over Fleur’s back and set a hoof to each of her shoulders. She pressed her cheek to Fleur’s even as she looked to Fine. “I don’t care about the sale, Mr. Mud Pie. You can have it for free! On one condition.”

Fine raised an eyebrow, his smile shifting to a thin line.

“Oh, don’t give me that look! This pony.” Cayenne shook Fleur by the shoulders, albeit gently, and rubbed cheeks with her once more. Fleur was tempted to push her away. “This precious, beautiful filly! I have an Autumn Presentation coming up in a month, and Fleur would make the perfect model for my Young Mares line. You must let her take part in the show!”

Now Fleur did push her away, and took a few steps back for good measure. Her voice cracked as she cried, “But I’ve never modeled before!”

“Honey, you are a natural.” Cayenne turned to Fine and clapped her hooves together in an imploring pose. “Please, Mr. Mud Pie! Do you have any idea how hard it is to find good talent in this town?”

Fine voice betrayed no emotion. “I have an idea.” His eyes shifted to Fleur, then back to Cayenne. “Fleur is fourteen – well, in two days’ time. I can’t make the decision for her.”

Fleur’s jaw dropped; he was letting her decide? He should have just said no. What was he thinking, giving the mare hope like that?

“You hear that, Fleur? It’s up to you!” Cayenne bounced and landed facing the startled filly. She broke into wild giggles before grabbing Fleur’s hoof in both of hers. “I’ll pay you, if that’s what you want. And I can teach you anything you’re missing. I can introduce you to some Important Ponies, maybe even a cute, wealthy bachelor or two.” She laughed and winked at Fine. “If your uncle is okay with it, that is.”

Fleur looked to the mare’s hooves over her own, then at Cayenne. Her Illusions Supremacy and Gemcrafting Mastery came to mind, and she was a breath away from shouting ‘no.’ When she opened her mouth, however, the word wouldn’t come out. Instead, she stammered, “Y-you really sink I’m… pretty?” The spoke the word so quietly it was a wonder anypony could hear it.

Cayenne’s smile disappeared. She studied Fleur as if not knowing who or what she was.

Then she laughed and bumped her muzzle with Fleur’s. “You are precious. Little filly, you’re going to be on the minds of every colt from Manehattan to Las Pegasus!”

A smile reached Fleur’s lips. Catching it too late, she cast a fearful look at Fine Crime. Though his expression remained unreadable, she could have sworn she saw amusement in his eyes. She swallowed to loosen her throat and tried to think through the clouds in her head. Why was she even considering this? She had dreams, aspirations, goals.

Okay, Fine had proved his point. It was time for this train to get derailed.

Sucking down a deep breath, Fleur pulled away from Cayenne, whose smile slipped. “I am sorry, Miss Cayenne, but sis is not somesing I can just jump into. Is it alright if I sink about it?”

Let her down easy. Burn no bridges. Hint at the possibility and make no promises.

“Think about—” Cayenne’s lips twitched, somehow managing to avoid a frown, but her disappointment shined in her eyes. “I suppose. I mean, there’s still time before the Autumn Presentation, and even if you miss that, I’m sure there are other events we could do together.” She shuffled and put a little more effort into her smile. “Are you sure? I mean, I don’t want to rush you. It’s just… well…”

“I’m sure.” Fleur offered her most charming smile and gave a small bow. “Sank you so much for se offer. It’s just too fast. I have so much to sink about, but I promise to let you know before too long.” She averted her gaze with a blush and put a little worry into her tone. “I mean, sat’s alright, isn’t it? Se offer will stay open?”

“Oh, of course!” Cayenne nodded frantically. “Of course it’ll be open. Come by anytime.”

“Well, that settles that.”

Cayenne jumped so high, one might think Fine had screamed in her ear, rather than spoken normally from right beside her.

His smile was small, but Fleur saw the little twitch in his lip and knew he was barely containing a grin. “So, Miss Cayenne, how much do I owe for the dress?”

The mare pressed a hoof to her chest and sucked in a few sharp breaths, the tension slowly easing from her body. When she finally recovered, she gave a nervous giggle and brushed her mane out of her face. “Oh, no charge. Really! Just having a chance to work with your niece is payment enough.”

At last, Fine smiled. “Well then, thank you for your generosity! We’ll be in touch, won’t we, Little Miss?”

He started to turn away, but paused when Cayenne put a hoof to his shoulder. She leaned close and whispered something in his ear. He gave her a thoughtful look, which she responded to with a high-browed, hopeful expression. After a few seconds of studying her, he gave the smallest of nods. “Good evening, Miss Cayenne.”

The fashionista regained her grin. “Good evening, Mr. Mud Pie. And to you, Fleur. I look forward to hearing from you soon.”

They stepped out onto the Canterlot streets under an orange sky, the sun just beginning to creep beneath the horizon. Fleur still wore the black dress, and the heat returned to her cheeks at the thought of being seen out in public as she was. Whereas before she never paid attention to other ponies, now she couldn’t help noticing the eyes upon her. She noted, with a confusing mix of fear and pleasure, that she was garnering quite a lot of attention. Brushing a stray lock of her mane behind an ear, she focused her eyes on the path ahead. It did no good; every turned head, every raised brow, every hushed conversation brought more and more butterflies.

But the weirdest part? She rather liked the attention.

Attempting to distract her mind from such thoughts, she asked, “Vat did she visper to you before ve left?”

“Hmm? Oh, she just asked me to try to convince you. Y’know, to take up her offer.”

She whipped her head around. “And you agreed?”

He gave her a wry smile. “You’re the one who left the door open.”

“I vas trying to be diplomatic! You know, let her down softly?”

The smile broadened. “But she had you, didn’t she? For just a moment.”

Fleur sealed her lips and jerked her head forward. She raised her legs with each step now and kept her face held high. “I sought you agreed to drop sis.”

“No, I said that if you don’t like being pretty then I wouldn’t press you on the matter anymore.” He nudged her shoulder. “But you liked it, didn’t you?”

She paused, her thoughts shattered by the question. She examined herself and the dress she wore, then lifted a leg to study its stocking and shoe up close. Unable to resist, she glanced around and saw there were still ponies watching them. No, watching her. Before she knew it, that stupid smile had sneaked its way onto her lips again. Upon noticing it, she turned her face away from Fine and tried to turn it back into a proper frown. “V-vell, I didn’t… dislike it, I guess.”

He stepped a little closer and leaned down, but tilted his head away. He spoke playfully, “So... who’s a pretty pony?”

As the fire in her cheeks rekindled, she pushed him away and walked ahead. “Shut up.”

But deep down, she had one strangely giddying thought:

Fine actually thought she was pretty.

She might never stop smiling.
	
> Book IV – Fleur de Lis: The Other Filly
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------




He wants me to keep writing. Tartarus is going to break loose in the slums tomorrow. The most important mission of the Order’s entire collective existence, and he wants me to keep writing. Writing, while Octavia is

No. I shouldn’t let this get the better of me. Fine taught me better than that.

I don’t feel like writing. What would I write about? How bucked up this whole situation is? I wish I knew why he felt the need to take on all the responsibility for himself. Fine doesn’t deserve that. Maybe he’s wrong about all of this. Perhaps Trixie can do the job without

By the Sun, I can’t focus.

Surprise. I find myself thinking more and more about her. Of all the ponies involved in this battle, she is the only one who has a stake as high as Fine’s. We all know what could happen, including her. I think she wants it, although it’s hard to tell. It’s funny, I once thought that losing her would have been a blessing. It was tough, when the only other filly I could confide in was… her. But I think that, in a way, I’d miss her.

Curses. Now everypony will see the stains. I’m far too emotional for all this. Why does winning require so much pain?

Buck it, this is pointless. I’m sorry, Fine. I just can’t right now.

—Fleur de Lis, Book of Shadows XLVIII,
June 12, 1007












January 16, C.Y. 991 
Canterlot


Fleur sat before the pouring water, her heartbeat steady and her breathing slow. She focused on the drops before her, trying to make out the individuals. Her hoof itched, but she paid it no mind. She needed to focus, to be swift, to be prepared. And calm. Calm like the water.

Her hoof shot forward.

She raised it before her face, but didn’t focus on it. Calm. She needed…

She focused her gaze. The hoof was wet.

“By Celestia’s bucking mane!”

So much for calm.

She swung her hoof through the water with a snarl and turned away. Teeth grinding, she stomped a few times before bucking the fountain hard enough to make her knees hurt. “Why can’t I figure this out? Why? Bucking why?”

“Oh, are you playing a guessing game? Can I try?”

Fleur mentally recoiled from that familiar, frustrating voice that somehow spoke perfect griffon. She turned to find herself muzzle-to-muzzle with a white face. Startlingly purple eyes filled her vision. She jumped back with a yelp, leading to a fit of giggles from the hovering Surprise.

Fleur glowered at the pegasus. “What are you doing here?”

The much younger filly buzzed to one side of the room— “Well, I jut got back from playing this fun game of chase with this minotaur in the Neighderlands—” Then to another part of the room. “—then I had to travel aaaaalllll the way back to Equestria—” Then she was above the fountain. “—so when I got here I was real hungry and Canterlot has some of the yummiest food ever so I went to the dungeons—” She had zoomed to another corner. “—and had me a snack because Uncle Fine says it’s okay to have snacks in the dungeons but then I thought—” And she was in Fleur’s face again. “—hey, maybe I can finally play with Fleurry! So here I am.”

Fleur shook her head to straighten her thoughts from all the movement, then pushed Surprise away by the chest. “Don’t call me Fleurry. I’m not made of snow.”

Surprise landed, her wings flapping lazily before folding in. “Yeah, but wouldn’t that be neato? Oh I bet I could make a snowmare I could just stuff snow into a pony until she’s so cold, she looks all blue like a popsickle! Hmm…” She looked around the room, then tapped her chin. “I guess I’d have to go north to do that, though. Hey, you think Uncle Fine will send me to the Frozen North anytime soon?”

Fleur rubbed both hooves over her eyes and repressed the urge to moan. With a snort, she turned back to the water and sat once more. “I don’t have time for you. I’m busy.”

“Oh, right, guessing game. Let me try!” Surprise trotted next to Fleur, sat, and looked at the water intently. Her presence made Fleur bristle, but she worked to keep her temper in check.

Silence reigned.

For all of two seconds.

“So… what are we guessing?”

Grinding her teeth and refusing to look at her perky companion, Fleur growled, “I’m not guessing, I’m training.”

“Oooooooh.” Surprised bobbed up and down, perhaps to release some pent up energy. “How?”

With a sigh, Fleur punched at the water. Her hoof came back wet, not that she’d expected anything else. “That.”

“Oh, I get it!”

White blurs passed through Fleur’s vision. The movement had been so fast she couldn’t be certain it was real. She looked from Surprise to the water and back. “Wha… Do that again.”

“Okie dokie lokie!”

Fleur watched intently as Surprise attacked the water with both forehooves several times. When she finished, Fleur took the pony’s hooves in her own and gaped: they were perfectly dry. “What? You can— But you’re only— Fine already taught you that?”

“Taught me?” Surprise laughed. “Uncle Fine didn’t teach me anything.”

Fleur gaped. For some time, that was all she could do. Those incessant, horrible giggles flooded her conscience, mocking her inadequacy. That cute little face, all smiles and pleasantness and hideous, foul charm. Fleur’s legs began to shake, her breathing quickened. She could hear her blood pulsing in her eardrums.

Surprise merely cocked her head. “Fleurry?”

With a scream, Fleur turned and banged her hooves on the fountain. And again. She lashed out at the water, sending it spraying all over, then fired a few beams that ricocheted wildly around the room. “My. Name. Is. Fleur!”

With one last snarl, she slammed her hooves on top of the fountain. She shook and panted, staring wide-eyed at the water, which continued to drip as if her outburst had been a mere wind. She’d not even scratched the polish on the stonework.

“Umm… I think it’s warded, Fleur.”

Surprise’s tone had changed. It was quieter, and lacking in energy. Fleur turned to the foal. With a weary sigh, she said, “You’re still smiling.”

Surprise nodded, but it was a lethargic motion. “It’s hard.”

“What is?”

“Not smiling.”

Fleur blinked, her anger fading with the pain in her hooves. “How can it be hard?”

“I don’t know. It just is?” Surprise shrugged, her wings giving an errant flap. “How do you not smile? I don’t see many ponies, but I know they don’t smile like I do. They make it look so easy.”

Now the anger had gone entirely, replaced by a burning curiosity. “Don’t you ever feel sad? Or angry or confused?”

“I don’t know.” The younger filly rubbed the side of her head, her smile firmly in place. “What are they supposed to feel like?” She gestured to the fountain. “Like, just now. You were playing with the fountain, but you weren’t smiling. Why?”

Fleur’s hackles rose. “I wasn’t playing, I was—” She caught herself upon realizing that Surprise was watching her intently with big, curious eyes. “You really don’t understand?”

“If you weren’t playing then what were you doing? Oh, oh, do you not know how to play? Now that I think about it, I’ve never seen you—” Surprise let out a dramatic gasp and dropped to a low stance, her tail swishing about and her smile broadening. “I know, I can teach you! You wanna play with me, Fleurry, huhhuhhuh?”

“Playing?” Fleur threw her hooves high. “How the hay do you define—”

A new voice, speaking Equestrian this time, drowned her out. “Stop. Right. There.”

Surprise was gone before Fleur even had time to turn her head. “Uncle Fine!”

By the time Fleur had turned, Surprise was hovering at Fine’s side and rubbing her cheek to his with a silly smile. Fine returned the gesture with a smile of his own, one that looked disturbingly genuine. Fleur bristled and wondered why he never nuzzled her that way. Was she not cute enough?

Fine broke contact with Surprise. He raised a hoof before her face and spoke chastizingly, “Surprise, I warned you. You do not play with Fleur.”

“Butbutbut,” Surprise buzzed about Fine’s head like a filly-sized bee. “Fleurry doesn’t know how to play! I was gonna teach her and we could have all sorts of fun together and whywouldn’tyouwanthertohavefunthatdoesn’tmake—”

It took three tries for Fine’s hoof to find her mouth and silence the rambling. “Fleur doesn’t play in the same way you do. And why are you speaking in griffon?”

Despite her misgivings, Fleur tentatively raised her hoof. “I’m a little curious, now. About se playing, sat is.”

Surprise floated out of range with a giggle. “I’m just speaking, silly. Fleur understands, don’t you, Fleurry?”

Still facing Fleur, Fine raised both forehooves towards Surprise. “Okay, I’m not gonna worry about the whole language thing.” He then turned those hooves towards Fleur. “And why would you be curious about how she plays?”

“Because I… She can…” Fleur groaned. She both looked and pointed at Surprise, then pointed at the water behind her.

“Oh, I get it!” Surprise darted to the water and repeated her earlier feat, legs flying unhindered through the stream of droplets. “But that’s not playing, silly.”

Fleur gestured at the pegasus even as she raised her eyebrows at Fine. “You see sat? She can do it so easily, visout any training! Maybe if I can study her—”

Fine raised his hooves in a silencing gesture. “Whoa, whoa! First off, studying Surprise isn’t going to get you much of anything. Second, I don’t think you have even a remote idea what you’re getting yourself into with this line of thinking.”

Surprise hopped to Fleur’s side, smile unphased. “But Uncle Fine, I want friends! Right now I just got you and the princess. Please? Pleasepleasepleasepleasepleasewithcherryontop?”

“I was going to send you home, Surprise.”

“Aww, but that place is boring.” The filly started pronking in place, the flutter of her wings letting her jump high enough to reach Fleur’s head. “I know, we can play together. Instead of with each other. That’s in the rules, right?”

Fleur offered Fine a smile of her own. “It’s just playing. Right?”

Fine opened his mouth to reply, but then looked at each of them in turn. With a sigh, he gestured to the door. “Surprise, do me a favor and stand outside for a moment. I need to have a private conversation with my apprentice.”

“Okie dokie lokie!” Surprise leaned over, raised her hoof before her lips as if to hide what she was going to say, then proceed to ‘whisper’ in a voice that could almost certainly be heard by everypony in the room. “Don’t worry, he’ll be a pushover ‘cause we’re cute.”

Then she was gone, humming and bouncing her way out of the room. Fleur was too busy blushing at the comment to react beyond staring at her hooves.

The door closed. Hoofsteps announced Fine’s approach. Her mind became frantic with thoughts and ideas that had been swirling within her ever since her birthday. Surprise surely didn't mean it that way, but—

“Fleur?”

“Do you sink I’m cute?”

She slapped her hooves over her mouth and gave a muffled yelp. How could she have possibly asked that? Stupid thoughts. Stupid mouth. Stupid Surprise! She looked up at Fine with wide eyes, half hoping he’d not heard it. She’d been quiet, right?

Fine chuckled with a incredulous but wry smile. “We’ve been through this before. If you weren’t an attractive pony, would you be modeling for Cayenne every other weekend?”

That didn’t answer the question! It wasn’t enough to be attractive to everypony else, she wanted to be attractive to… She forced the thought aside even as her cheeks burned. “R-right. So vat did you vant to talk to me about?”

His smile faded in a flash. “You really, really shouldn’t entertain this idea, Fleur. You didn’t see what my quarters looked like when we got back from the dungeons.”

Fleur tried to put some encouragement into her expression. “I know you said she’s pure Bloodmane, but she just… ahem, ‘fed.’ How bad could it be?”

“Bad.” Fine rubbed his forehead with a groan. “I know she looks like a cute little foal. I know she’s all smiles and bouncing happiness. I also know that she has zero concept of the consequences of her actions. If she hurt you, the worst she’d feel about it is a worry that I’d be mad.”

She considered this quietly. “You mean to say she’s some emotionless machine?”

“Not at all, she’s certainly got emotions. She just…” He rubbed his chin and examined the ceiling through peering, contemplative eyes. “…doesn’t see them through the same lens we do. Her entire method of comprehension is different.” He pressed a hoof to Fleur’s chest, making her blush. “Do you even know what she means when she says she wants to play?”

“I imagine it involves somesing violent.”

“Imagine.” He huffed the word in a sardonic laugh. “What you imagine isn’t even close.”

Fleur gave a dejected sniff. “She’s an Archon, isn’t she? And I’m your apprentice. Don’t you sink I should learn to deal vis her?”

He leaned forward, looking as if he were about to say something snide, but paused. “Hmm… Point. But you’re still not going to beat the water trial just because you watched her. It’s up to you to overcome that hurdle.”

“I know it is. It’s just…” She looked over her shoulder at the ever-cascading water. Her words took on a bitter tone. “I am tired of failing at it.”

He placed a hoof on her shoulder. “I told you, two years minimum. How long has it been?”

“Not two years,” she grumbled.

“Exactly.”

She shoved his hoof away. “Vell, maybe if I do somesing else for a little vile I’ll have better focus ven I get back to it.”

He turned his head to study her with a lone eye. “I thought you didn’t even like Surprise.”

Fleur sighed and shook her head. “I admit, she rubs me se vrong vay every time I see her, but I’ve only seen her, vat, four times? You have to spend some time vis somepony before you start to really not like sem.”

Fine sighed, looked to the door, then back to her. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Absolutely.” She stood tall and held her head high. “I’m not afraid.”

“We’ll see. Surprise!”

The door slammed open and Surprise was at his side in an instant, nuzzling his cheek once more. Fine let her do that for a second or two, then gently pushed her away. “Okay, Surprise, you two will spend some time together.”

Surprise let out a cheer and started for Fleur as if to hug her, but stopped short when Fine caught her tail via magic. “On one condition.”

“Aww, there’s always a condition.”

“And this is an important one.” He caught her by the shoulders and pushed her to the ground. She looked up at him expectantly, tail wagging back and forth in a way Fleur wasn’t sure ponies were supposed to be capable of. “You are not allowed to touch Fleur.”

“Touch. Touch?” Surprise cocked her head one way, then another. She leaned backwards to look at Fleur upside down. “You mean I can’t touch her at all?”

“You can’t touch her at all.”

“Pooey, you’re no fun.” Surprise bounced to her hooves, wings buzzing. “Alrighty, then. I, Surprise the Pegasus, do solemnly swear not to touch Fleur with hoof, mane, tail or tongue!”

Fine leaned over her with an exaggerated expression of lecturing. “Or knives, or axes, or bats, or other creatures, or any other item, be they sharp, blunt or of a generally physical constitution.”

Surprise winced. “You’re really tying my hooves behind my back.”

“You’ll live.” He turned to leave, but paused to cast one last glance between the two fillies.

“Both of you.”









In hindsight, Fleur should have known better than to doubt Fine’s word.

There had been a mare chained to the wall by her leg, an earth pony. When they’d walked in, that mare had looked at them as if they were dirt beneath her hooves. Now that same pony lay on her back, sobbing as a filly of perhaps no more than nine years of age – in appearance, at least – pounded at her skull and chest with reckless abandon. The mare’s forelegs were broken, her ribs had probably been cracked, and her face was a bloody mess.

And Surprise? She was humming. Even as the blood splattered on her hooves, she just kept smiling and giggling.

“Hey, Fleurry, don’t you wanna join in? Come on, there’s plenty of room for two!”

Fleur opened her mouth to respond, only to feel something foul rising up. She press a hoof to her lips and fought to recover. She couldn’t take her eyes off the scene.

“No? Come on, I thought wanted to learn how to play.” Surprise paused in her assault to peer at the trembling filly, then shrugged. “Oh well, more for me.”

Then she dropped down and bit the mare’s ear. As the pony screamed and jerked beneath her, Surprise twisted her head back and forth, pulling and chewing, until at last her head whipped back, the bloody ear still lodged between her teeth. Her victim’s pleas were little more than indecipherable blubbering by this point.

Surprise spat the ear out before turning to grin at Fleur, the blood caking her chin and teeth. “Y’know, I’m glad we got to spend some time together. You’ve been with the Archons for almost a year and we hardly ever talked! I think that’s a real shame, don’t you?”

Fleur swallowed the acid in her throat and nodded weakly. “Y-yes. A… shame.”

“Well, now we can have fun together.” She turned to punch the mare in the face a couple times, then turned back to Fleur. “And be best friends.” Another two hits. “Forever!”

The only thing Fleur wanted to do was take a hot shower. She didn’t dare run away from this scene, though. For one, she had no idea how this miniature maniac would respond to rejection. For another, she didn’t want to appear weak. Was she not gifted in illusion? She always had a few gems on her as well, just in case. If she had to, she could defend herself against the filly.

Besides, Surprise wouldn’t disobey ‘Uncle’ Fine’s orders. Surely.

Surprise was busy using a serrated knife – where did she get that? – to saw open a portion of the mare’s belly. That combined with the mare’s feeble sobbing almost made Fleur turn away, and she was sure she’d lose her lunch before this was over. But she had to stay. She was supposed to be an Archon now. She needed to be able to handle monsters of this sort.

Surprise slipped the knife into her mane and, attention still set on the mare beneath her, spoke cheerfully. “Oh, by the way, there’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you: I’m not jealous.”

Her gaze set on the corner of the room, Fleur took a few deep breaths before asking, “Jealous?”

“Yeah.” There was a wet plop. Fleur didn’t dare look. “I call Fine ‘Uncle’ all the time, but he’s far more important to me than that, y’know? He’s more like a father than anything else.”

“I… see.”

“But I don’t get to spend as much time with him as I’d like. I know he likes me, and he’s really nice to me, but I’m always off having fun. When I’m not doing that, I’m back at home, being bored out of my mind.”

More wet sounds. Fleur was sweating with the effort to not satisfy her morbid curiosity. The mare’s sobs grew weaker.

“But Uncle Fine gets to spend a lot of time with you. He likes you more. It’s just how it is. So I want you to know, I’m not jealous.”

Fleur swallowed again and closed her eyes. She couldn’t imagine what it would be like to have that filly legitimately upset with her. “I’m glad to hear it.”

“Me too! Say, you ever seen a lung? It’s pretty neato.”

“I sink I’m fine, sank you.” Fleur couldn’t resist the quickest glance out of the corner of her eye. She didn’t get the details, but what she saw was enough to nearly make her heave. “S-Surprise, vy do you enjoy sis?”

“I dunno. Why does anypony enjoy anything? Oh, it’s time.”

Fleur’s ears perked. She noticed that the sobs had stopped. Now there was only a frail, raspy breathing. Carefully, with a hoof to her stomach, she tilted her head just enough to see what was going on.

Surprise had been systematically removing the pony’s organs. They were laid beside the mare in neat rows. Fleur didn’t recognize half the things she saw, but she suspected none of them were necessary for living in the short term. There was surprisingly little blood, not that this did Fleur’s stomach any favors. She almost turned away, but paused when she saw something that distracted from the gruesome scene entirely.

Surprise stood over the mare, her eyes gradually gaining a white glow. She bent over the mare, lips curled in that eternal smile, and opened her mouth wide as the glow turned brighter. Just as the mare’s last breath left her, something pale like a wisp of cloud floated from her mouth. The fog-like substance rushed up and into Surprise’s waiting lips, moving in a continuous, quiet stream.

Then, just as suddenly, it was gone, and Surprise’s mouth closed with a click of teeth. She licked her lips, sat back and rubbed her belly. “Mmm, this one tasted like chocolate!”

“Tasted?” Fleur’s vision blurred. She began to wobble as the world spun. “T-tasted?”

“Fleurry, are you okay?”

She wasn’t okay. She was very far away from okay.

She didn’t feel it when she hit the floor.









Fleur awoke to a strange scent in her nostrils. She blinked lazily, her vision gradually coming into place. At first, the world was nothing but blurry shapes. Then they righted into more distinct forms, until at last she recognized Fine Crime and the small bottle floating beneath her muzzle. He pulled it away and tucked it into his vest.

“Hey, Fleur. You alright?”

“I… I sink so.” She tried to get up, but her legs wobbled. “Vat happened?”

“I’m so sorry!” Surprise was rocking on her hooves near the wall, panic in her eyes. For the first time ever, she wasn’t smiling. “I don’t know what happened! We were talking and you just… just fell! I wanted to bring you to Uncle Fine but he said I couldn’t touch you and I was all scared I’d done something wrong anyway but I went to get him and he hurried down here and made me clean up before he woke you and I’m so sorry Fleurry I didn’t mean to do whatever I did to hurt you I swear!”

Fleur shook her head groggily, barely able to grasp the lightning-fast stream of words. “It’s okay. You didn’t do… anything…”

Her memory came back in sharp contrast, and her eyes widened. “Y-you… you ate sat pony’s soul.”

Surprise blinked and cocked her head. “Yes?”

Fine set a hoof to Fleur’s back, rubbing it gently as he whispered in her ear. “It’s okay, Fleur. It’s not her fault. She can’t help what Celestia made her to be.”

Fleur gaped at him. “You condone sis?”

He cringed. Had he gone just a little pale? “No, but I am partially responsible for Surprise’s existence. I won’t condemn her for existing.”

Surprise flapped her wings for a couple beats. “What’s the big deal? Uncle Fine says they’re all bad guys, anyway.”

That made Fleur wince; she knew as well as Fine did that not all of the ponies down here were ‘bad guys.’ Probably not half of them. She looked to Fine for answers as he helped her up. When Surprise tried to approach, she jerked away.

“It’s okay,” Fine assured her, hoof still on her back. “Surprise won’t hurt you.”

Surprise looked between the two of them curiously. “Hurt? I don’t hurt ponies.”

“Is she serious?”

“Of course I am. I’m just having fun.”

“Fun?”

“Alright, Little Miss.” Fine pulled Fleur's leg and pointed to the door. “You’ve had enough fun for today. Let’s get you upstairs.”

Fleur wasn’t about to argue. She’d have given anything to get away from that foul… thing. She turned for the door, took a step—

A low, quiet voice met her ears. “What did you call her?”

Fine and Fleur shared an uncertain expression, then glanced back. Surprise was staring at Fine with wide, unbelieving eyes.

He frowned. “I called her Little—”

Fleur had no idea what happened. One minute she was standing at Fine’s side, the next her back was pressed against the wall and pain lanced through her chest. When she opened her eyes, she found two furious violet ones taking up her entire vision.

“How dare you? You can’t be his Little Miss, that’s me!” A hoof slammed into Fleur’s jaw. The words were nothing less than a screech. “Me! I’m Little Miss, not you! He’s my Uncle Fine and you can’t take him from me!” Several more blows connected. The back of her head cracked against the wall, causing stars to explode in her vision. “I’m Little Miss! I’m Little Miss! I’m—”

Just as suddenly, Surprise disappeared, and Fleur collapsed to her side. Her head and chest felt as if they were on fire. For a moment her vision had doubled. It righted by the time she managed to look up.

Surprise’s wings were caught in a red aura. She kicked wildly at the air, screaming and spitting and hissing, all her rage aimed at Fleur.

“That’s enough, Surprise!”

The filly didn’t seem to hear. Fleur pressed herself against the corner of the wall, trying to make herself small as the little monster continued to reach for her.

Then, abruptly, Surprise’s wings twisted. There came two simultaneous snaps, and the filly shrieked. The auras faded and she landed hard on the floor. She picked herself up on shaking legs and looked back to see the sorry state of her white wings, now bent at improper angles in places where joints weren’t supposed to be. Panting and sobbing, she looked around… then locked eyes with Fleur.

Pain turned to fury in a heartbeat, and Surprise broke into a gallop. Fleur scrambled along the wall, a scream on her lips and panic taking root.

Fine appeared between them. “I said that’s enough!”

“No!” Surprise kept going, trying to move around her ‘uncle.’ “I’m Little Miss, only me! Nopony else can be Little Miss!”

Fleur winced as Fine’s hoof came down on the filly’s head with frightening force. She hit the ground with a pronounced crack, and then the same hoof was atop her head, pinning the little pony. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and still she squirmed and struggled to get to the her target.

Fine lowered his head so it was above Surprise’s. His words came out in an ominous growl. “Don’t make me tell Celestia you were a bad filly.”

The change was instantaneous; all rage left Surprise’s gaze in a heartbeat. She screamed and clutched at the leg pinning her head to the floor. “No I’ll be good I promise I’ll be a good filly please don’t tell Celestia I don’t wanna be sealed in the pool!”

Fine’s voice lost none of its edge. “You gonna leave Fleur alone?”

“Yes! She can be Little Miss, just pleasepleaseplease don’t tell Celestia I was a bad filly!”

“Apologize to Fleur.”

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it!” Fine’s hoof ground against her skull. “I m-mean, yes! I meant it, and I’m sorry! It won’t happen again, I promise! Don’t tell Celestia. D-don’t.”

The energy left Surprise, who broke down in sobs and stopped trying to get away. Fine held her down for a few seconds longer, but finally stepped back. He turned and crouched by Fleur, holding her by the chin. “Are you okay? Look me in the eyes, Fleur. Tell me you’re okay.”

“I’m… okay.” Why was she speaking so slowly? She couldn’t stop looking at the weeping filly. “Vat just… Vy did she—”

“Hush.” Fine touched at her chest gently. She yelped on contact. “You’ve a concussion. Looks like a fractured rib or two. I’ll take you to the infirmary. If anypony asks, one of our training sessions got a little too rough.”

Fleur stared at him blankly for a few seconds. Her mind worked just enough to get something out. “You’re still… protecting her?”

His expression remained like stone. “Like I said, what she is is not her fault.” He looked over his shoulder. “Surprise? Go to your room and stay there. I’ll meet you later and we’ll get your wings fixed up, okay?”

Surprise raised her head, revealing bloodshot eyes. She rubbed her muzzle and nodded, her gaze on the floor. “Y-yes, sir.” She slowly climbed to her hooves and hobbled for the exit, wings dragging along the floor. She didn’t look to either of them as she departed.

“Alright, on your hooves.” Fine gently helped Fleur up, one leg wrapped around her shoulder for support. She wondered why, until her hooves slipped out from under her. “Easy there. Take it slow.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, tears dripping down her cheeks. Why was it so hard to think? “I… I should have defended myself. I should have… have been ready.”

Fine sighed and shook his head. “Nopony’s ready to get broadsided by a force of nature. Don’t let it get to you; that filly was created for brutality’s sake.”

Fleur didn’t argue. She couldn’t think straight enough to recall what she’d already said. Her thoughts began to wander. A glance up made her aware of how everything looked off. Now why would that be? She risked a tumble to feel at her face and realized that her left eye had swollen shut.

Her lip trembled. “I… I von’t be able to model for Cayenne sis veek.”

“Don’t worry about that.”

“But I promised…” What? She had promised Cayenne something, hadn’t she?

“Don’t worry about it.”

She hung her head, too weary to hold it up anymore. Minutes passed in silence. She drifted in and out of awareness, her legs moving on autopilot. She kept seeing the moment in slow motion; the blur of white and blonde, the pain, the hooves smashing against her body too quickly. And the rage; the pure, indescribable fury of those eyes.

She raised her head. “Is… Is Surprise evil?”

It was some time before Fine responded.

“She’s just a filly who got all the wrong rolls of the dice.”

Fleur let her head sink once more.

She couldn’t wait to go back to punching at water droplets.
> Book IV – Fleur de Lis: Frustration
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------




It’s happened.

It’s really happened.

I We He

Buck Just buck

I can’t do this without you. Fine. Verity. Please.

I

I just wanted to be loved. You gave me that. So why did I



I’m sorry I





can’t

—Fleur de Lis, Book of Shadows XLVIII,
June 13, 1007












March 1, C.Y. 998 
Canterlot


The Fountain Room was quiet. Only the soft flow of water touched her ears. Fleur sat before the familiar fountain, her gaze aimless. She said nothing, only took in the calmness of her immediate world.

She was no longer a teenage filly struggling through school. This room, which had become her private study, now held the many reminders of her achievements. It was, in many ways, proof of her great growth over the last seven years. Slowly, she turned her head to take in all the sights of her life.

Resting on special ponyquins by the door were two robes. One, a brilliant blue that appeared to have a living, cloudy sky moving lazily across its fabric, marked her place as a master of illusions. The other was a dark, deep green, its linings studded with small gems that glistened with every color of the rainbow, evidence of her supremacy in gemcrafting. She wore them only rarely, when she was called upon as an official expert for some purpose or other. The diplomas sealed in plagues above them gave credit to her status as the youngest pony to ever achieve the titles, individually or combined.

In the corner of the room, right next to her great mahogany desk, stood many racks of clothes. Vibrant dresses of every conceivable make and design, all given as mementos of vast experience in the world of modeling. The wall above had been decorated with dozens of images of her meeting with famous ponies, wining and dining with actors, lords, models, designers, businessponies and dignitaries.

Which made the next display all the more curious.

The glass case stood tall beside the fountain. Its offerings were varied, but all of a single purpose. Enchanted roses that would remain eternally fresh; glittering necklaces of every shape and size; decorative earrings made of the finest silver and gold; silk dresses; signed books; priceless works of art. These and so much more stood out to her, begging for attention, every last one a gift from an eager suitor. Stallions – and the occasional mare – fell all over themselves, offering these gifts in exchange for even a moment of her time. She only kept the most exquisite items, which served as trophies of her conquests.

Yet she had not given herself to a single suitor. She knew, with a sad confidence, that she never would.

Out of everything that Fleur had achieved in the last few years, however, none could compare in her mind to the final display. It sat upon a long table against the wall, uninteresting to anypony who failed to understand it, which was nearly everypony. Embedded within the wood were over a dozen gems, carefully laid out with a complex pattern of leylines crafted from the dust of crushed diamonds. Every line was a work of art, the magic pulsing through them subtle and yet magnificent in purpose.

Few in the world could appreciate the magnificence of a gem storage array. This modest one had been but a sample of her grand scheme, a proof of concept that had astounded the very few peers she’d been able to present it to. Even Princess Celestia acknowledged it as a marvel of modern gemcrafting, although Fleur questioned the princess’s honesty.

Now, similar storage arrays were placed in key locations throughout Equestria and the world, all vastly larger and each with ten times the complexity as this simple device. It had taken her four years to set up the global system, all done in secrecy and under a mask of a world modeling tour. The work had been exhausting, the mental challenge calling for all her accumulated knowledge in gemcraft, but at long last, Fine Crime had the international information network he’d long desired for his Archons. By herself, Fleur had achieved one of her mentors’ greatest career goals, one he’d not expected to see completed for at least another twenty years.

And then?

She stared at the fountain before her, taking in the steadily dripping water. It had once seemed so fast. Each drop passed her gaze, an individual world of crystal clear perfection upon which she could center her focus. Yet she didn’t have to maintain such devoted attention to these little droplets. She didn’t even try. Her hoof moved, a pale pink blur, and when it pulled away, it remained as dry as a bone.

She sat. She listened.

The world remained calm and quiet.

Fleur de Lis wanted to scream.









She found the Mane Archon in the Royal Library, his muzzle buried in a thick tome. Finding him always proved easy; he would either be working in his office, performing historical research in his personal study, or researching magic here. Fleur could admire his continuous drive to improve himself, confident that he added a little more strength to his horn with every passing day.

Today, however, her admiration had cooled. She kept her steps light and her expression peaceful, but her blood boiled. She stood before him quietly, noting once more that she’d somehow outgrown him by a large margin. Fine was a tall stallion, but she dwarfed him by no less than a horn length, not including the horn on her own head. Sometimes it still felt odd, having to look down at the pony who had done so much for her, but today she found the difference agreeable.

When he ignored her for too long, she spoke softly. “Fine.”

He didn’t so much as look up as he replied, “Little Miss.”

It took all her training not to scowl. “I’m not so little anymore.”

His eyes flicked to her from over the book, but only briefly. “You only say that when you’re upset about something.”

She bristled; was she only worth a glance now? With practiced effort, she kept her response civil. “I want to do something.”

“Then do something.” After a moment’s pause, he added, “I can’t go out right now.”

Fleur closed her eyes and tried to ignore the light pounding behind them. “That’s not what I meant.”

Fine’s brow furrowed. He lowered his book to study her with a frown. “Are you going to dance around the issue, or are you going to tell me what you’re after?”

“What I’m after is—” She bit her tongue, for when it came down to it she couldn’t be certain how to respond. She stared back at him, finding herself lost in his dark red eyes. They weren’t the prettiest eyes ever, but they held a certain… impact. She liked them. She always had.

She almost missed his raised eyebrow. “You keep staring at me like that and ponies will think you’re crushing.”

Heat flooded her cheeks and she promptly turned her gaze away. If only the foal knew how close his tease came to the truth.

Fine sighed and, setting his bookmark, closed the massive tome. “Fleur, you’ve been moody for a while now. What’s wrong?”

She wanted him to pay attention, that was what was wrong. She thought back on all the great things she’d accomplished and just how little she’d gained from it. There was only one payment she desired, and only one thing she could do to get it. Her mental faculties firming, she turned to give him a hard look. “I need a job.”

Another raise of the eyebrow. Fine leaned forward to rest his chin in his hoof. “You’re a fashion model. You’re in charge of the entire Archon storage network. You regularly go out to gather information from rich stallions for the Archons. Plus, you do professional gemcrafting and illusion work on the side. All that and you want another job?”

“I don’t want jobs like those,” she countered with a grimace. “I want an Archon job.”

“Did you miss the part involving the Archon data storage network?”

Fleur’s stamped a hoof and snorted. “You spent years teaching me how to kill a pony with my bare hooves! I have yet to use those skills.”

Fine leaned back from her, his face going slack. “Wait, you want to kill somepony?”

“I want to be useful to you as something other than a pretty face or a glorified filing clerk!”

He pressed his forehooves to his face and spoke in a quiet growl. “Since when were you unsatisfied with your station? There are ponies who would love to be where you are right now, including you ten years ago. You should be content, Fleur.”

She flicked her mane and raised her muzzle high. “Well, I’m not. I am not content at all. You’ve helped me gather all the skills necessary to be an Archon, and I’m not using any of them. I want to do what I came here to do.”

He lowered his hooves to peer at her. “Didn’t you say you came here to find me?”

The fire returned to her cheeks, and all her anger faded away as she stared at her hooves. Her old accent slipped back onto her tongue for a moment. “S-Sat’s… true. It is vy I came here.”

“And you found me.” Fine stood, walked around the desk and made for the exit, the tome floating over his shoulder. “You don’t need to go putting your life in danger, Fleur. I assure you, you’ve been incredibly helpful so far. Even Celestia thinks you’re irreplaceable.”

But was she irreplaceable to him? The entire world could be staring at her in rapt adoration, and it wouldn’t mean a thing if he turned away. Fleur racked her brain for something, anything to make him change his mind. There had to be something…

“Wait.”

He didn’t stop, so she hurried to speak up. “What about Sīṃgakh?”

As soon as the word left her mouth, he froze. He said not a word, but his ears had perked. She had his attention, which was all she needed.

“I know something big is happening there. Soon. You’ve got a third of all our Archons in Nildia, and a third of them are heading for one location.”

She leaned forward, anticipating his answer. But the time slipped by, and he remained quiet. Fleur felt the first tugs of anxiety as it dawned upon her that, just maybe, she’d put her muzzle somewhere it didn’t belong. There weren’t very many subjects of that sort.

At last, Fine reacted. His head shifted just slightly, as if he had considered turning to face her. “How do you know about Sīṃgakh?”

Despite her moment of worry, Fleur couldn’t help but scoff. “Fine, think about who you’re talking to. I designed and created the entire Archon data network myself and trained a quarter of our agents in its use, including you. Do you really think I couldn’t gain access to any information that existed in it should I decide to go looking?”

Fleur had seen Fine’s many faces through the years. She knew him when he was happy, sad, scared and frustrated. Out of all the emotions he could project, few rivaled the impact of his anger. So when he turned to her with his head lowered and that familiar spark burning in his eyes, she had to take a step back. Her pulse quickened and her breath left her; never had that intense flame been aimed her way with such force.

It did not matter that she was taller, right now she felt like a child once more.

“You will drop this subject,” he said through gritted teeth. “You will not bring it up again.”

Fleur barely kept the whine out of her throat. She cursed her knees for feeling so weak. “B-but… I just—”

“No.” He took a step closer. Such a simple motion, smooth and quiet. It was the kind of movement she saw in him when they were training together and she was about to lose – badly. It had only been a single step, but it had spoken volumes to the pony who had come to know Fine better than any other.

It settled a ball of ice in her gut.

“Sīṃgakh is off limits,” he continued quietly. “Even to you. I don’t care how you feel on the matter, it is not a subject you are to go anywhere near. It is not your place to know. Do I make myself clear?”

Despite her trembling, Fleur opened her mouth. His eyes narrowed, and her jaw slowly closed. With eyes to the floor, she nodded meekly. “But can’t I at least know why?”

“No.”

And without another word, he left the library.

Fleur sat alone among the books for some time, staring at her hooves and wondering about Fine’s reaction. Never before had he outright refused her like this. Her heart ached, for no matter how she considered the scene, only one thing came to mind: he didn’t trust her with a real Archon mission. After all the things she’d done, after so much success, he still didn’t think she was ready.

But she was. She knew she was. She had to prove it, but how? All she wanted was his… attention. Why couldn’t he see that? To have those powerful eyes turn kind, to know that he loved her. It wasn’t a big demand. Surely not. If she could just figure out the truth behind Sīṃgakh, but the orders she’d uncovered were so vague and she lacked Fine’s gift for analysis. How was she meant to know?

Her ears perked; there had been one name mentioned a few times in the reports. Perhaps there was somepony who could tell her what she wanted to know. Her hesitation removed and the image of Fine’s threatening gaze subdued, Fleur marched for the doors.

She would need supplies.










March 5, C.Y. 998 
Canterlot


In all her years as an Archon, not once had Fleur found a reason to come to the Everfree Forest. Now, as she stood over the gaping hole in the earth, she thought on how Fine had confided in her a few years ago. Somewhere in this terrible place stood an ancient castle in which a statue of Celestia had been hidden. Fine claimed that this statue was special, perhaps even sacred. All his efforts revolved around freeing the ‘Celestia’ that had been trapped here.

Was the story true? Fleur had no idea. Because it was Fine, she wanted to at least consider it probable, even if the tale sounded like something cooked up in a fever dream. Fleur had often pondered the idea of going out to investigate the statue herself, but always cast it aside. Perhaps she was afraid she’d find nothing. Maybe she feared to learn that Fine really had lost it in these woods with Celestia’s final trial. She may never be closer to an opportunity to investigate than now.

But Fleur made no attempt to do so. She preferred to keep faith in her beloved savior. She would trust him.

Today wasn’t a day for her to doubt. Today, she would try to find a way to make him trust her just as much as she did him. And that started with a hole in the ground, one which she’d only heard of in quiet conversations and the occasional report.

She gazed into the wide opening. She’d expected something smaller, and darker. Instead, the hole stretched out so wide that she had no doubt Celestia could have walked down that steep slope without having to duck her head. And rather than darkness and shadow, the hole offered a dim glow of the lightest purples and blues. There weren’t even the dried up bones and bloodstains that had haunted her nightmares when she’d been a filly. Fleur didn’t know whether to feel disappointed or relieved.

Even so, a monster resided within, and Fleur was determined to meet with it. Sucking down a calming breath and straightening her back, she took the first step into the depths.

With how warm the Everfree had been, Fleur had anticipated the cave being like a sauna. Instead, she was greeted by cool air that sent chills along her body. Strange, Fine had reported the place as being quite warm. Was the cave enchanted?

Oh, what was she thinking? Of course it was.

As she neared the end of the slope, she found herself standing within a small cavern. Tree roots curled from the ceiling and a wide assortment of strange plants littered the corners of the rocks. The small plants themselves provided one part of the faint glow. Had Fleur the time and interest, she might have examined the flowers more closely. Instead, she focused her attention on the highlight of the cavern.

The Mirror Pool was everything Fine had described to her. It cast a soft glow from its perfectly still surface, offering not the smallest ripple of motion. As she looked into it, she discovered her own image gazing back.

It was so rare for Fleur to really take the time to study herself. The lankly little filly with the overlong legs had grown into a tall, thin but muscular mare, her pink mane cascading in curls along her shoulders. Her face had elongated as she’d grown older, but the soft and gentle form of her cheeks, lips and jaw suggested somepony far daintier than her personality allowed. This, she knew, was one of her greatest weapons. Even now, she practiced her demure, innocent expression.

How many hearts had she melted with but a pout and a bat of the eyelashes?

Her reflection winked. It took her a moment to realize that she’d not done the same.

Fleur backed away, an uneasy feeling in her gut. It was an extremely familiar sensation. Carefully, she removed her saddlebags and set them next to the water’s edge. That would likely be enough. Now all she had to do was touch the water’s surface. Easy… in concept.

Fleur stared at the water for some time, her teeth gritted and heart pounding. She didn’t dare speak, not when she knew her self encouragement might be overheard. She needed to act, but her legs were like rubber. She’d come all this way from Canterlot, just to stop now?

No. With a grimace, she stepped forward and brought her foreleg down. Her hoof touched the water’s edge, but it felt as dry as ever. No ripples flowed from the contact. She waited, shivering from the chill of the water that felt far colder than it should.

Something touched her hoof. It pressed, matching her own perfectly. Now, she needed only think.

Come on out. I have a gift for you.

She’d barely finished the sentence in her mind when something yellow rose from the surface of the water not a foot from her hoof. She stepped back as a white head emerged, violet eyes staring up at her. The corners of them crinkled as a playful light came to them, and then the pegasus burst out of the water.

“Fleurry! You came to visit me!”

Fleur silently thanked Fine for training her reflexes. She dispelled her shield, the water dropping back into the pool, and smiled. “Hello, Surprise. How are you feeling?”

Surprise had grown over the years. Her wings were unusually large, but this may have been because her build was more like that of an earth pony. She appeared as a teen, fresh into the world of marehood. ‘Appeared,’ as Surprise had very little interest in the things that caught the attention of the average teenager.

Surprise moved forward, her mouth open to speak, but then froze. All excitement faded as she hovered, her forelegs curling to her chest and her expression turning hopeful.

Every instinct in Fleur’s brain screamed at her to reject the idea. She pushed all of that aside with the ease of practice and, maintaining her smile as best she could, nodded. “I won’t tell if you won’t.”

With a squeal of delight, the pegasus slammed into Fleur’s chest and wrapped her in the kind of bear hug only a magical construct could muster. Surprise could probably break somepony’s back if she had the mind to. She was also as cold as ice and sopping wet. Fleur tolerated the hold for as long as she could before coughing up, “Surprise? Air.”

“Ohsorrysorrysosorry!” Surprise released her and landed in a sitting position, her eyes wide. “I didn’t hurt you, right?”

After taking a moment to recover her lungs, Fleur regained her smile. As always, she weighed her words carefully. “No, I was only out of breath. You did nothing wrong, Surprise.”

The smile came back in an instant, as wide and toothy as ever. “Oh, thank goodness! I don’t wanna hurt you, you know that, right? I mean, I kinda want to play with you, but I’m not allowed to and I know Uncle Fine would be real mad if I played with you and you got hurt, and Uncle Fine being mad makes everypony else sad, especially me.”

Fleur’s smile turned wry and she steepled her forehooves before her face. “Well, I’m playing a little game with Fine. He doesn’t know I’m here, because I’m going to surprise him.”

Before she could utter another word, Surprise burst into the air and began flying circles around her. “Surprise, surprise, I love surprises! Surprises are my specialty and we’re gonna have so much fun and do you think there’ll be any blood I know we could start by—”

Five years ago, Fleur would have been growling under her breath. Today? As odd as it felt to acknowledge, Surprise’s exuberance and freedom made for a pleasant change of pace. There was a time when she’d feared this pony. In all fairness, she still did, except now she knew how to handle her. Besides, Fleur spent all her time dealing with stuffy nobles and high-brow elites. This wild pegasus gave her the chance to behave normally. Even more so than Fine did.

A glance at the saddlebags near the water brought her mind back to the present. “Did you forget the gift already?”

“ReallyagiftFleurrybroughtmeagift!” Surprise was on the bag like a cat pouncing upon a ball of yarn. She pulled it open and her already wide eyes seemed to double in size. “Oooooooooh Goddess. Fleurry got me candy. This is the most awesomespectaculamazing day ever! Thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou!”

A pile of wrappers had already formed. Fleur chuckled and lay down to watch the relentless assault on the hoard she’d delivered. “You know, if you hide it in the woods you won’t have to eat it so fast, because Fine won’t know.”

Surprise coughed, her lips and cheeks covered in chocolate and caramel. “Are you kidding? Uncle Fine would find it in no time.”

Another chuckle. “You’re probably right. So, how have you been, Surprise?”

“Terrible.” The filly popped another sweet in her mouth, her smile subdued. “Or at least as close to terrible as I can be. I hate it here. It’s lonely and the voices in the pool are annoying. It’s always ‘Oh, why did you hurt that stallion?' 'Please, don’t rip open anymore mares’ ribcages.' 'This is not what the alpha would want!’ Blah blah blah and yackity smackity.”

Fleur consider this, momentarily at a loss. “You never said anything about voices in the Mirror Pool before.”

“Because they’re stupid!” Five pieces of candy, wrappers and all, were vacuumed into Surprise’s mouth. “They make me feel weird and dumb and… and things I don’t understand. I’m not a bad pony, I’m just written that way.” She spat the perfectly clean wrappers as one giant ball of foil, which splashed loudly into the water. “Stupid voices, telling me stupid stuff.”

She reached for the bags. Her hoof paused over the candy. With a sigh, she closed the nearest pouch and pushed it back. She still smiled, but it was as weak now as Fleur had ever seen it. “So… uh… Have you heard anything about Pinkie?”

Fleur pursed her lips. She’d anticipated that question, but had hoped it wouldn’t come up. Knowing she could be entering a minefield, she spoke softly. “The last I heard, she still lived at the orphanage.”

Surprise gave the tiniest of nods. She rubbed her foreleg, ears flat against her skull. “Do you think, if I asked nicely enough, Uncle Fine would let me… see her?”

The pegasus might have been a homicidal fiend, but that didn’t stop Fleur’s heart from sinking at the query and her hopeful tone. “I’m sorry, Surprise, but I don’t think Fine would ever approve of that.”

At last, the filly’s smile broke. She flicked at a small plant between her hooves for several long seconds. “I know.”

Fleur wondered if she should try to comfort Surprise, even knowing the dangers involved. The fact that she even wanted to startled her. She reached a hoof out and patted her shoulder as gently as she could. If Surprise appreciated the gesture, she offered no indication of it.

Eventually, Surprise rubbed her eyes, and when her hoof came down her smile was back, although it had little enthusiasm behind it. She looked up at Fleur expectantly. “So… what did you want to do for Fine?”

She was asking directly? Fleur took this as a sign that things were really going bad for Surprise. “Hey, if you want to talk about—”

Surprise spoke swiftly. “The surprise. Tell me about the surprise!”

The false excitement was one thing, but the unsteady look in her eyes was enough to tell Fleur to give up. If she pressed any harder, she ran the risk of antagonizing the demon. Of course, she was capable of dealing with Surprise by this point, but she didn’t like having to calm her down. Not just because of the dangers; hurting Surprise felt like hurting a child. “Alright, then. I need some information.”

The filly’s face scrunched up as though she were thinking on a challenging puzzle. “That doesn’t sound like a surprise at all. And I should know, ‘cause I’m Surprise.”

“I need the information in order to set up the surprise for Fine.” Fleur set a hoof to her lips and winked. “You don’t want to spoil it, do you? I need you to keep this just between us.”

“Oooooh, I get it!” A bit of energy returned to Surprise, who began bouncing in place. “Don’t worry, Fleurry, you can count on me. If anypony knows how to keep a secret, it’s me! After all, I can’t be Surprise if I don’t know how to surprise, and surprises call for keeping secrets because you don’t want to let the pony being surprised know that you’re going to surprise them! Or griffons. Or minotaurs! Or anything, really. So what did you want to know?”

It took Fleur a moment to register the query at the end. Her heart skipped a beat; was it really going to be that easy? She leaned forward and asked, “What can you tell me about Sīṃgakh?”

“Sīṃgakh? Oh, that’s—” Surprise abruptly launched backwards, the wind of her wings blowing Fleur’s mane back. “No! Not that! I’m not supposed to tell anypony about Sīṃgakh, Uncle Fine said so!”

Fleur barely contained her smirk. Now that she’d confirmed Surprise’s involvement, all she had to do was get the information out of her. Setting her voice to be as sweet and innocent as she could, she said, “Oh, come now, Surprise. Do you really think he meant to not include me?”

“Yes.”

She flinched; so much for that tactic. “But how am I going to surprise him if I don’t get the information?”

Surprise’s hover dropped until she was just over the water, her wingtips brushing the cold surface. Still no ripples. “I dunno. Maybe you can tell me what the surprise is?”

Fleur almost cursed; the pegasus wasn’t as malleable as she’d anticipated. “I can’t. It wouldn’t be a surprise if I did.”

The teenager landed before her and leaned forward, her eyes narrowing. On any other pegasus, it might have been annoying… or cute. On Surprise, it sent a chill down Fleur’s spine.

“You’re being sneaky. I can tell, Uncle Fine warned me about sneaky ponies.”

Fleur’s pulse quickened. She began considering defensive spells even as she tried to keep her smile steady. “Well, I am an Archon. Being sneaky is part of my job. But you do know ponies can be sneaky for a good reason, don’t you?”

“Do you have a good reason?”

A moment’s thought was all Fleur needed. “Are you saying that making Fine happy isn’t a good reason?”

Surprise blinked, the intensity of her stare fading. She sat once more, her wings twitching as she “hmm”-ed and “umm”-ed. At last, she nodded. “It’s a good reason, but… are you really gonna make him happy?”

“Of course!” Fleur didn’t need to fake a smile this time. “Surprise, Fine rescued me from a life of misery. He’s given me everything. He’s made me so happy. All I want to do is return the favor. Please, tell me about Sīṃgakh?”

A pathetic whine rose from Surprise’s throat as she rubbed her forehooves together. “B-but… But he told me not to tell anypony. I don’t wanna get in trouble.”

Fleur stepped about and sat at the filly’s side. She reached down and pulled Surprise against her with a cooing hum. “I promise, Fine won’t know that you told me. It’ll be our little secret.”

Surprise leaned heavily against her. Her big, violet eyes stared out at nothing as she considered Fleur’s offer. Absentmindedly, she reached out to pluck a lolipop from the bags at her side. Fleur watched her in silence, her mind jumbled by a strange mix of emotions. She knew Surprise was dangerous, that this little pony had murdered a great many. She could still remember that terrible beating she’d received seven years ago. Seven years… had it really been that long?

For all the things that should have made Fleur hate this teenager, she couldn’t find it in her to do so. Instead, she felt a certain fondness. She wanted Surprise happy, and the fact that this didn’t surprise her was in and of itself unexpected. How, then, would she define this pony?

After sucking the lollipop into nonexistence, Surprise finally spoke. “Can you do something for me?”

Petting her yellow mane, Fleur nodded.

Those hopeful eyes rose to meet hers. “Would you… take me to see Pinkie?”

Fleur sucked in a sharp breath. Her tongue fumbled about uselessly as she tried to think of some response to this. All she could see was Fine’s angry gaze.

“It’s only fair, right?”

The words hit her like a hammerblow. Fleur stared down at Surprise, taking in the implications of what she’d just heard. With this understanding came shame; why should she expect Surprise to risk Fine’s anger and not be prepared to do the same? Pinkamina Diane Pie was strictly off limits, this Fleur was well aware of, but so apparently was Sīṃgakh.

With a sigh, Fleur nodded. It was fair, and certainly worth the risk. “Alright, Surprise. Give me a week to find out exactly where she is, and I’ll bring you to see her. But only if you tell me about Sīṃgakh now.”

Surprise shifted moods in an instant, laughter bubbling from her throat as she shot into the air. “Yes! I’m finally gonna see Pinkie!”

Fleur shuffled nervously, already looking for ways to honor her part of the agreement. If Fine found out what they were up to…

No, she came here for a reason. Fleur turned her attention to Surprise, who was doing a silly dance in midair and giggling wildly. She’d grown so accustomed to her antics that Fleur made no attempt to question how she continued to hover in the air despite her barely moving wings.

“So… Sīṃgakh?”

The pegasus sucked air in a massive gasp, then flew down to grab Fleur’s cheeks and stare into her eyes. “Oh, it’s going to be so much fun!”

There was that word. Fleur prepared herself for the worst.

“A whooooole buncha Archons are gonna flock to the city in Nildia and then we’re gonna play, play, play! It’s gonna be the biggest party ever! There’s gonna be singing and dancing and lots and lots of tasty Nilgiri souls for me to eat because Uncle Fine says there’s nothing there now but evil and mean things so that makes it okay for me to do whatever I want and play all night long because Celestia spent decades making the place the perfect playground for me and I think that’s so cool that she’d make all that just for me although it probably isn’t just for me because I haven’t been around for centuries only a few years but they’re still going to let me have fun and that makes me soooooooooo happy!”

Fleur didn’t catch all of it, but she’d heard enough. Whatever was going to happen in Sīṃgakh, it was clearly going to be a major operation. “So, how big is this… er… party?”

“Huge!” Surprise let her go and flew a few circles, her wings buzzing. “It’s gonna be so big, I dunno if even I can handle it! Fine says it’s gonna be like the Crystal Party! Well, maybe not that big, but really close!”

It took a moment for Fleur to grasp the meaning of Surprise’s words, and when she did the facts made her gasp; Surprise had just compared the mission in Sīṃgakh to the Crystal Rebellion. It was enough to get Fleur thinking on the importance of the war. Fine didn’t speak much of the rebellion, but she’d at least managed to learn that he’d distinguished himself enough there to be recognized as the next Mane Archon. This was the kind of event that was about to come up, and Fleur wasn’t invited.

Now more than ever, Fleur was determined to get into Nildia. “When does this party take place?”

Surprise paused in her spinning to shrug her shoulders. “I dunno, a few weeks? Wait, Fine said…” She squeezed her eyes closed and stuck her tongue out the corner of her mouth. She held that pose for some time, grumbling and growling, before her eyes popped open and she cheered. “Aha! Mid-April! I knew I could remember!”

Fleur grinned; she had more than a month to prepare. Plenty of time to scheme her way to Nildia. Fine had stopped looking over her shoulder ages ago, it wouldn’t be too hard to explain her absence. There were even a select few archons who would help her out and keep things quiet.

Fine wanted to keep her out of the real work. She’d show him. She’d go in and do her part, and she’d do such a good job that he wouldn’t be able to ignore her any longer. This would be her Crystal Rebellion, and she’d pull it off in spite of his doubts.

And then? Then he’d have eyes only for her.
> Book IV - Fleur de Lis: Into One's Own
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------




Tradition dictates I end this book. Set it aside. Start my own.

Fine bucked tradition. I shall do the same. I don’t think I’m fully prepared to start my own chapter in this saga, not yet. So I will continue Fine’s book, just as he originally intended. The others will have their say. Once I am satisfied with my own progress, only then will I set this aside. For now, Fine’s story lives on.

The princesses tell me I should quit, or at least take a break. I refused their suggestions. I may be crying every night, but I will not abandon the Archons. Fine wouldn’t want that. He chose me, and I must meet his expectations. There’s still a lot of evil in Equestria, remnants of the last thousand years. Somepony has to put that evil down.

But we will not bow to Celestia anymore. We will not bow to any princess at all. The Archons began independent, and we will return to that state. I believe Fine would have wanted it that way.

Independence. I took this route once before.

I regretted it then. I won’t regret it now.

—Fleur de Lis, Book of Shadows XLVIII,
June 14, 1007












April 20, C.Y. 998 
 Sīṃgakh, Nildia


There was a phrase for cities like this. Fleur had to think for a while to recall it, but eventually it slipped back to the forefront of her mind: “a wretched hive of scum and villainy.” Yes, Sīṃgakh fit that description perfectly.

Fleur had loathed the city the moment she stepped off the airship. Every corner was grimy, and the goats – nilgiri, if she were to use the appropriate racial terminology, or ibex if she wanted to be insulting – were no better. The entire city was comprised of ugly yellow structures that appeared to be made of a mishmashed combination of stone and local clay. Only the most important buildings used modern construction materials, and to the nilgiri ‘important’ apparently only included the major government buildings and the home of anypony rich.

She stood at a balcony overlooking the city’s town square, being in the only hotel in the entire city wealthy enough to warrant proper construction and modern conveniences. Well, most modern conveniences; the heat was nothing short of sweltering. Fleur regretted not learning any thermodynamics-related spells, because a proper cooling aura would have done wonders for her just then. Her mane clung to her sweating shoulders, and she learned quickly to not even think of wearing a proper dress in this country.

Beneath her wandered a people who were little more than rabble. Under normal circumstances, Fleur might have felt guilt for thinking so low of others, albeit briefly. In this case, though, the statement was about as true as could be. The vast majority of the citizens wandering the square lived in squalor, and one needed only glance at their ratty, flea-infested coats to see it, to say nothing for the grime, the downcast eyes and the torn, moth-eaten clothes.

In the meantime, the elites were gathered about the city’s capital, a squat, wide structure of marble that, for all its elegant design, appeared no less dirty than the city surrounding it. It wasn’t just nilgiri there, for Fleur could make out ponies and griffons as well. This didn’t surprise her in the least; Nildia was a puppet state of Grypha, and Grypha in turn had no choice but to accept Equestrian oversight as punishment for its involvement in the Crystal Rebellion. Knowing what she did about Celestia, Fleur thought the catbirds had gotten off easy.

But the leaders being well groomed and wearing suits didn’t make them any less of a rabble. They were criminals and monsters, every last one of them. Fleur had read enough reports to get the gist of the levels of crime in this city. For all intents and purposes, the crooks owned it, and that criminal element trickled down to every corner of life in Sīṃgakh. It seemed there wasn’t a single nilgiri, griffon or pony living within the city limits that hadn’t committed at least one terrible deed, mostly in the service of some organized crime group or family.

Fleur hovered one of her intercepted letters, brow furrowing as she took in the words once again. “So… whatever this thing is, it’s happening today.”

“That’s right,” a deep voice acknowledged from behind her. “The Mane Archon’s instructions are clear. It’ll start during the mayor’s speech.”

She turned around to face her companion, a tall, purple-feathered griffon. “But they don’t specify what exactly is going to happen. Surely you must have some idea.”

The griffon shrugged and shuffled from claw to claw. “Not really. Apparently, I’m not high enough in rank to know.”

Fleur ripped the letter to shreds with her magic, making sure the pieces were as fine as possible, before letting it scatter in the winds. She then smiled sweetly at the griffon. “Do not worry, Thin Tongue. Your assistance with getting me here will be well remembered.”

Thin Tongue scratched at his chest and averted his gaze. “That’s not what I meant. Lady de Lis, are you sure you want to be here?”

“Don’t worry.” She turned back to the balcony, eyes narrowing as she watched the workers below setting up a large stage. “I’m taking full responsibility.”

The griffon grumbled something unintelligible. “I don’t think you get it. I’m risking more than my job helping you get here. If something happens to you—”

“Nothing’s going to happen.”

“If something does, we’re all in trouble. It’s no secret that you’re the Mane Archon’s pride and joy. I don’t care how smart you think you are, he’ll find out who helped you, so for all our sakes, lay low.”

Fleur’s retort didn’t reach her lips. She was too busy trying to shove her heart back down her throat. Fine’s ‘pride and joy’? Surely Thin Tongue hadn’t meant that. If Fine really thought of her that way, she wouldn’t have had to come here.

No, it had to be a ruse. This catbird was trying to trick her into holding back. She hadn’t come this far just to watch from the sidelines. She flicked her mane and raised her chin, steeling herself. “I’ll be fine here. You may leave.”

“You can’t dismiss me like I’m some—”

“Get. Out.”

She could feel his glare on the back of her head. It didn’t bother her in the least. If he dared to say anything more, she would be sure to remind him of his rank… and hers.

He departed, grumbling all the way to the door. “I’m stationed in the lobby,” he growled at her, then disappeared into the depths of the hotel.

Fleur immediately turned to the nearby kitchen counters, pouring herself a glass of water and dumping a few cubes of ice from a bucket sitting on the floor. The water felt delightful going down her throat, but did nothing for her foul mood. ‘Pride and joy,’ indeed. Had Fine sent instructions through the ranks to have her called that? Of course not, she would have seen if he had.

Still, she wouldn’t put it past him.

This was his fault. She was here because of him, because he wouldn’t acknowledge her. But she’d show Fine. After today, he’d have no choice but to see her for what she was. Maybe he would finally love her, love her as he was meant to, as she’d always desired him to.

But first, she needed to succeed. Exactly how, she couldn’t be sure. She turned to the small gem array she’d built the night before, situated on the the bed that had all the softness of a rock. Setting her empty glass aside, she sat before it and activated the starter gemstone, and soon green and blue light arose from the carefully-arranged apparatus. Her ears turned forward, but no transmissions met them.

That was alright. Fleur knew the Archons wouldn’t be sending too many messages, not so close to Mission Start. Somepony would use it eventually. The order had to come down, after all. She resigned herself to a quiet stakeout, by no means her first.

She would learn what this mission was all about, and then she’d act.









“Signal will come during the Mayor’s speech. All units to positions.”

Fleur’s head rose at the same time as her eyebrows, pulling out of a daze of thoughts. The words that had arisen from her gems took their time rooting inside her brain. Once their meaning became clear, she slumped her shoulders. “That’s it?”

Six hours she’d sat in that room, stopping for nothing save a few glasses of water and the occasional bathroom break. In all that time, there’d been not a single word on the system. And now this?

Worry seeped into her brain. Her plans were unraveling, and all because the foals weren’t using the communication and data storage system she’d designed! She silently cursed Fine for his old fashioned methods, as appropriate as they may be. What did a mare have to do to get in on top secret information?

But it was too late. The Mayor’s speech was scheduled to start within the next five minutes. With a groan, she tapped her hoof on the red gem in the corner of her apparatus, shutting down the device. As the lights faded, her room grew red from the fading light of the sun. Head low and hooves heavy, Fleur walked to back to the balcony and sat. At least she could see this oh-so-special project in action.

The city square was packed with nilgiri. There had to have been thousands. Fleur could smell their reeking, sweaty bodies even from her balcony. Could these cretins smell anything beyond their own stench? Across the city square, several rows of dignitaries sat on cushions. They looked as haughty as ever, with well-dressed servants rushing to and fro to cater to their every whim. At the forefront was the podium, a gargantuan thing that made Fleur wonder if the mayor weren’t compensating for something.

She detected no sign of Archon activity. And why should she? Despite knowing there would be nothing to see, Fleur couldn’t resist passing her eyes over the scene a few times in search of something out of the ordinary. No luck. Whatever Fine had planned, it would catch everypony by surprise.

Fleur growled under her breath. She’d come all the way here, and for what? To watch others do the dirty work. Now that she thought on it, it could be that the entire mission would occur in the background, unseen to the public eye. The thought had occurred to her before, but Surprise had compared it to the Crystal Rebellion. Surely nothing could be that big and not be noticed.

Big or not, she would miss it completely. Were she not worried about the consequences, Fleur might have stormed up to Fine right then and there to demand an explanation. His location was the one and only thing she’d managed to squeeze out of this entire trip, not that it would be worth anything. How long before the next major mission? How many opportunities like this would she miss?

How long would she have to wait for Fine to notice her?

She blinked; the mayor was speaking. When had she shown up? Fleur peered across the crowd, wondering why she hadn’t bothered to get some binoculars. The mayor was a griffon, apparently blue. Other than that, Fleur could make out no details. Even so, she paid close attention to the scene. What would Fine’s signal entail?

The mayor kept talking. Fleur’s frustration grew steadily. Still, no signal came.

After some thirty minutes, the mayor turned aside, and two more individuals stood, a pony and a nilgiri. They approached the podium, then hugged the mayor. Fleur peered; had things gone off script? Why had nothing happened yet?

The three figures stood at the podium. The mayor stood tall and raised her talons high.

Then her head exploded. Followed by the heads of the two dignitaries.

As the screams started, Fleur could only gape. When the elite figures began to flee, she remained silent.

What happened next, she wasn’t quite sure. She could just barely see the wave of energy that rushed over the city, causing no visible damage. Fleur tried to bring up a shield, but it shattered as soon as the energy wave passed. For the span of a second, Fleur’s skull felt as if it were filled with bouncing iron balls. By the time her head cleared, the screams filled the air in an endless chorus.

With a gasp, Fleur looked down to witness total chaos. The ibex in the streets were, for lack of a better term, at war with themselves. Everywhere she looked, the peons clawed, stomped, bit and drew blood. Somehow, in the mere blink of an eye, the Archons had awakened the true viciousness that defined these rubes.

Fleur burst out in laughter at the sillines of it all. Oh, what mindless worms they were! It was no wonder Celestia singled this city out. Maybe she was trying to have them all killed. Wouldn’t that be lovely?

Her laugh was cut short when she heard something strike the wall beside her. She turned to look down; it was an arrow. Thunk, another hit the wood of the railing beside her, and Fleur hurried back inside. “Those worthless simpletons! How dare they attack me? Do they not know that I’m—”

Teeth clamped down on tongue, ending the tirade before it could properly launch. Fleur’s wide eyes darted about the room as more and more vicious thoughts coursed through her brain. Where had they come from? She thought of her time living under the stairs of Gladkaya. The way her father had treated her… She didn’t want to think like that monster.

But the thoughts kept coming. They told her to bask in her own superiority, to laugh as the cretins slaughtered themselves, to take part and bathe in their useless blood. She was smarter, she was wealthier, she was prettier, she was more cultured. She was better than these plebes!

“No!” Fleur fell to the floor and clutched at her head. “That’s not me. That’s not me. That’s not me.”

But it was her. She knew it. There had been times, moments where she’d indulged in the knowledge of her superiority. They’d been dark thoughts. It felt so good to know that she’d become something her father would never be, that she could look down on him with impunity. Him, and others like him. The wretches, the indecent, the worthless, the villainous.

Sīṃgakh. The city of sin. Crime capital of the world.

Who better to look down on than these wretches?

Fleur stood. She walked to the kitchen, her hooves quiet, her steps dainty. Outside, the sun was just touching the horizon, painting the world red as shouts, screams and shrieks filled the air like grotesque music. Fleur poured herself another glass of water, took a sip. Somewhere outside her room, she could hear loud hoofsteps. Calmly, she pulled her mane back and, using a rubber band she noticed in one of the drawers earlier, tied it in a ponytail.

Something banged against her wall. An explosion sounded in the distance. The cries of anger and rage swam in through the balcony doors. Ever serene, Fleur walked back to her bed and levitated a dozen gems of various colors, absent-mindedly checking the etchings on them before tucking them into her mane. A tiny jolt of magic was all it took for them to stick to her scalp like magnets.

Despite their weight, she held her head high. Another bang resounded, and there came a pained scream through the wall. Fleur picked up the glass of water and made for the door, stride as graceful as ever. The door opened to her magic and she stepped out, taking a long drink of water as she did.

A nilgiri maid lay against the opposite wall. Her head was a bloody mess and she didn’t move. Fleur cringed at the sight, but moved on.

There was a nilgiri stallion down the hall. He spotted her and, with a wicked grin, charged.

Fine’s words, words from a thousand training bouts, ran through her mind: Assess. Plan. React.

Fleur finished her drink.

Then, in a flurry of motion, she took the glass in one hoof, smashed the top of it against her doorframe, sidestepped the stallion’s lunge, then jammed the jagged glass into his throat. It had taken less than a second, and she was already moving on. She didn’t bother looking back; the sound of the stallion’s choked gurgling was enough. She didn’t even perk her ears when he hit the floor.

“Pathetic.”

It dawned upon Fleur that she’d just killed somepony. Her first kill. Shouldn’t she have a stronger response than this?

Of course not. He was inferior. Killing him had been a mercy, to the world and probably to him.

No, that wasn’t her. She didn’t think like that.

Why shouldn’t she?

Because it was wrong!

Says who? Celestia arranged this, and isn’t she the voice of all things good?

Fleur staggered, the air escaping her lungs in a harsh gasp. Her last thought had been so ridiculous, so phenomenally stupid that she almost broke into laughter. Celestia, that bitch, the voice of all things good?

Just as quickly, alarm and anger mixed into her mind. Everything came together: the shockwave, the fighting, all of it. Somehow, every creature in this city was under an enchantment that brought their darkest desires to the forefront of their minds. All the hatred, all the anger, all the fear, put forward with inhibitions cast aside. For something like this to be happening all over the city…

This was no assassination mission. It wasn’t about information collection or dealing with the crime families. It wasn’t about cleaning up the streets. It wasn’t even about politics.

This was a cleansing. Celestia didn’t intend for anything to get out of this city alive.

The door to Fleur’s left opened with a bang, and something smashed into her. Before she could even register the need, she began punching and kicking. A glint of steel caught her eye, and suddenly she and her snarling opponent were wrestling over a kitchen knife. The nilgiri shouted in her face.

Fleur’s horn ignited, and when she shrieked back it was with long fangs, a slithering tongue and wide eyes with thin pupils. Her foe shrank back, face going pale with shock. Then he gasped, for the knife had found its way into his heart.

Fleur’s illusion dropped as she stepped back. The nilgiri, a short stallion in a blue business suit, blinked a couple times in stunned silence before collapsing. Fleur sucked in a few sharp breaths, conflicting thoughts warring for supremacy in her mind.

He attacked first!

It was self defense.

He deserved to die.

He wasn’t himself!

Yes, he was, and that makes it okay.

I didn’t even know him.

He’s an ibex, that’s knowledge enough.

No, it’s not!

Dirty, ugly, backwards goats.

“Shut up!” Fleur slapped herself, and the thoughts came to an abrupt stop. She stood still in the middle of the hall, her breath coming in shallow gasps and the stillness interrupted by a chorus of bangs, bumps and shouts all around her.

“Okay,” she whispered, pressing a hoof to the side of her head and grimacing. “Think, Fleur, think. All of the city was hit by that spell. There are Archons in the city. That means… that means…”

It meant the Archons had some kind of protection against the magic. Fleur’s path was clear now, she just needed to survive the trip. Her gaze went to the elevator. What state would the city be in once she reached the ground floor?

She looked to the dead nilgiri. It took her precious seconds to make the decision, but when she did there was no hesitation. Dropping to her knees, she whispered an apology, rolled the body aside and pulled the knife from his chest. That done, she started for the elevator.

Shouts, roars, thumps and bangs filled the air. The hallway was empty, but Fleur knew that to be only a lucky break. At any minute, more of the hotel’s staff and guests would burst into the hallway from the adjoining rooms. She had to get out of this hotel, and fast. She reached out, pressed the button on the wall—

The elevator screamed past. Shrieks rose, climaxed and faded with its passing, culminating in a crash that rocked the building beneath her hooves.

She stared at the door in mute silence, more disturbed by her own numbness of what just happened than the event itself. “Okay,” she muttered. “Stairs.” She’d feel for the poor souls later, right now she had to survive.

A door opened down the hall and a griffon lunged out. She already sported blood on her chest and legs, and it couldn’t have all been hers. The creature spotted Fleur and let out an eagle’s cry before charging. Fleur was already rushing down the stairs. She turned two corners of the stairwell before finding her way blocked by a group of ibex and ponies engaged in a fierce, bloody free-for-all. One pony saw her approach and lunged.

Assess. Plan. React.

Her elbow met his face with a crunch, then she had him on the floor. His radius snapped a moment later. Before Fleur had even finished, she snatched one of the gems from her mane and tossed it into the brawl a few steps away. She buried her head under the stallion’s barrel just when the garnet hit the ground. A lone spark of her horn, and the world was filled with a resounding crack. Even from her protected position, the light shined in her eyes.

She wasted no time, leaping up and darting past the combatants. They all stood on wobbling legs, blinking away the dots in their eyes and trying to figure out what had just happened. She slipped by the last one and continued downstairs, looking up to see her griffon pursuer smash into the unprepared equines.

A wicked grin came to Fleur’s lips; and Fine thought she was unprepared.

Something slammed into her from an open doorway. She hit the wall before she and her attacker fell to the ground. It took only a second for Fleur to realize she’d not been attacked at all, merely run into. Even so, she and the zebra mare moved at the same time. Fleur wove her hoof through the zebra’s punch and struck an easy blow to the jaw, then came forward. Her opponent fell for the motion and reached up, prepared to grapple, and Fleur’s kitchen knife slid neatly between her exposed ribs. She walked past, knife back in her possession, before the mare even hit the floor.

As she hurried down to the ground floor, Fleur wondered at how incredibly easy it was. The riot couldn’t be more than five minutes old, and she’d already taken two lives. It felt… good. As if the act of murder had been an unrealized dream all her life. Had Fine felt this way back when he was a Bloodmane, effortlessly slaughtering pony after pony?

She knew it was the magic making her enjoy the bloodshed. Deep down, she felt the appropriate guilt, but it was through a thick filter. Fleur let the knife bounce in the air before her, a lopsided smirk on her lips as she wondered why she’d ever held back. Imagine if she’d had the courage to slip a knife in her father’s back all those years ago. Where would she be now?

Understanding struck her like ice water, making her go still at the foot of the stairs; she would be in the Grypha Mines. Or, more precisely, she’d have already died there. This entire scenario was wrong, evil, and she’d been enjoying it!

Of course it was evil. Celestia planned it.

Shaking her head forcefully, Fleur opened the door just as an eagle’s cry pierced her ears. Looking up, she cursed at the sight of the griffon from before charging down the stairs. She was so covered in blood now that there was no telling what her plumage’s color had been before. Fleur shoved the door open and rushed into the hotel lobby, only to slide to a stop.

Bodies covered the floor, painting the once-purple carpet red. Dozens of nilgiri, ponies and griffons in varied positions of death. Broken bones, sliced body parts, bruised coats, shattered skulls. Not even the magic pressing against Fleur’s mind could hold down her revulsion. For precious seconds, she could do nothing but stand in mute silence, a hoof over her lips and her stomach churning.

An eagle’s cry, but not from behind her. She turned her head. Thin Tongue. He approached her at a run, wings spread and beak opened wide in a shriek.

Another cry came, and Fleur lunged sideways just in time for the other griffon to fly through the stairwell door. The catbird landed amongst the bodies and, undeterred, began to turn, but paused when she noticed the approaching Thin Tongue. Apparently recognizing him as the greater threat, she focused her assault on him, and the two ran into one another at full speed.

The fight was over before Fleur could even consider moving in to help; Thin Tongue accepted a scratch to his chest, and repaid it by ripping his opponent’s throat out. Fleur wasn’t the least surprised. “Thin Tongue, we need to get to the Solar Flare! If we can—”

A screech cut her off. Thin Tongue’s talons ripped into the carpet, his gaze vicious as he prowled her way.

Fleur stiffened, her gaze piercing. “Great. I should have known a mere catbird would be too feeble-minded to resist the enchantment. No matter.” But deep down, Fleur knew it to be a big matter. Slaughtering a bunch of untrained, inexperienced nilgiri and zebra was one thing, but Thin Tongue was a battle-hardened, Archon-trained griffon warrior. Did she even stand a chance?

Worse: this meant that the Archons in the city didn’t have any protection after all. Why hadn’t Fine warned them?

What a stupid question; Celestia had told him not to, obviously.

As Thin Tongue lunged, a part of Fleur screamed at her to flee. Instead, she dodged her new opponent’s deadly talons and stabbed with her knife. Thin Tongue avoided it, moving around the blade like water, forcing her to dance backwards or be sliced to ribbons. They continued this routine, each dodging attacks that came more and more swiftly.

Fleur knew she was in trouble. Thin Tongue might be small for a griffon, but he still far outweighed her, and didn’t appear at all slowed by the extra heft. Worse, he was aggressive, and she found herself constantly having to back away. If she didn’t come up with a solution quickly, he’d back her into a corner and the fight would be over.

Mind working frantically, Fleur cast a spell on her blade. The kitchen knife appeared to divide into four different weapons, and all went at the griffon at once. Thin Tongue cried out and jumped back, trying to dodge all four. The real one made it through, but only delivered a small cut to his shoulder. Now aware that the others were fake, he caught the real one in a lone talon and, with a startlingly powerful tug, jerked it from Fleur’s magical grasp.

She winced, the cancelled magic like a slap to the forehead, but had no time to be impressed. She leapt sideways, a melanite gemstone falling from her mane, and made as if to retreat. Thin Tongue followed with a screech, bounding over a table to get to her. Fleur’s horn sparked, activating the dropped gem.

Crack!

The air around the gem became a vacuum, and everything nearby began to be sucked in. Thin Tongue rocked back before digging his claws into the floor and bracing against the powerful pull just behind him. Fleur had to do the same, wrapping one leg around a support beam to keep steady. The pull wasn’t so bad for her given the distance, whereas the griffon’s strained face revealed his exertion. Slowly, Fleur pulled away from him, until she reached a chair that was slowly sliding her way. She grabbed it, turned and prepared to throw it.

A shout forced her attention left, to the hotel entrance. A pair of nilgiri charged through the shattered windows, heads down as they prepared to ram her at full speed.

Assess. Plan. React.

She slammed the chair down, shattering it, then grabbed one of the broken pieces of wood and set it at an angle on the floor just as the first nilgiri reached her. It promptly impaled itself in the chest and staggered; Fleur dodged sideways, attention already on the second opponent. She thrust a second piece of wood at him, but he dodged sideways… right into her waiting knife, which plunged into his throat.

Fleur’s gem, now filled with an excessive amount of local matter, chose that moment to explode.

The force of the eruption sent Fleur and the two nilgiri sprawling. She landed hard on her side and cringed, but needed only a second to regain her bearings. She found the area around the gem annihilated, the walls and ceiling crumbling. Her jaw dropped at the sight of Thin Tongue, blood oozing from several cuts on his backside and wings, climbing to his paws. She’d expected some broken bones at the very least!

Their eyes locked, his vicious and hers startled. Then he charged once again.

Assess.

He was bigger. Stronger. As fast as her. Wounded. Not thinking clearly.

Plan.

Ponies ran from griffons. Predator and prey instincts. Fool them, get close.

React.

Fleur charged, horn lowered and a scream rising from her lips. Thin Tongue didn’t slow down. Instead, he smirked. They grew close within just a few steps, and his left claw rose high.

Just as he swung, Fleur leapt. She didn’t get out of the way, she merely altered her course just slightly left, where all his weight was positioned in that moment. Her center of gravity shifted so that her back half swung around, but she felt the slice of his claws in her side regardless. It burned, but she accepted the pain; after all, she’d not performed the maneuver to dodge.

Her forelegs came out and caught his head in a tight grip. He kept coming, and she was airborne. Putting all her weight in her hind legs, Fleur let them whip around like a lead weight at the end of a rope. His head, still in her iron grip, turned with her motion. Her spin continued, over his back, around—

Snap.

The counterbalance of his weight disappeared as he fell, and Fleur hit the floor on her side. She watched as Thin Tongue’s head rocked back and forth, his eyes wide with shock. Panting, heart pounding, Fleur continued to lay there for several long seconds. The understanding of just what she’d done left her unable to think of anything else.

She’d killed a fellow Archon! True, it was in self defense, but hadn’t Thin Tongue been part of the plan? And she’d been so stupid as to come here uninvited and get in the way. This entire trip was one massive, idiotic mistake!

No… Thin Tongue hadn’t been part of the plan. He’d said so himself, he had no idea what was going to happen. Did that mean that the Archons sent here were expendable? Had they been set up to fight amongst themselves somehow? She could see Celestia enacting such a terrible agenda for her own amusement. The idea that Fine would readily go along with it seemed harder to accept. Then again, he did have an obedience curse.

Only after her fears settled did Fleur realize that she felt no actual guilt for her misdeed. She pressed a hoof to her chest, feeling her rapid pulse, and tried to force her breathing to slow. Why didn’t she feel bad about her actions? The worst that came to her was a fear of being punished for it. These couldn’t be her own thoughts. It had to be the magic toying with her mind. She was stronger than that, she knew it!

Death was not part of her character.

But if she didn’t get to Fine soon and get the counterspell, she feared it might become so. With this in mind, she stood and walked over Thin Tongue’s corpse, making her way to the exit. She had a long way to go and an entire city of chaos and violence to get through, but she would get through.









Fleur limped onto the airfield. Her entire body ached. Scratches and bruises covered her once pristine coat, her mane hung loose over her face, her breathing came in a slow rhythm. Every step sent a jarring pain through her chest where a nilgiri had got a lucky ram in. Some of her ribs were almost certainly broken. Only one gem remained hidden in her mane, her head throbbed from the effects of a magical overdose, and as if that weren't enough, she was drenched in her own sweat.

But she had survived the night. She laughed feebly, then cringed at the agony in her chest. Fine thought she wasn’t ready, but she’d done it. He’d never be able to tell her she was unprepared again. All the pain, all the trouble she’d gone through, it would be worth it just to see the look on his face.

She slowly raised her head, taking in the few airships still on the ground. She spotted a cargo skimmer and, recognizing it from the reports she’d intercepted, hobbled towards it. Odds were high that the crew had already killed one another. She didn’t know how to fly an airship, but perhaps she could figure it out. At the very least, it might be a safe place to lay low for a while.

Through some effort, she managed to raise her head up high. Her destination was visible in the near distance; a long, narrow airship held aloft by a massive blimp. Fleur had seen it enough times in Canterlot: the Solar Flare, Celestia’s personal overseas transport. Celestia had been generous enough to lend it to the Mane Archon for this mission under the guise of a ‘world peace’ tour. When Fleur had first heard that, she’d broken into hysterical laughter.

Now? The thought scared her, because she knew the vast majority of the world had fallen for it. Celestia’s ability to remain saintly in the eyes of the commoner was something to respect… and fear.

“Fleurry, you made it!”

Fleur screamed and swung her hoof, but the laughing pegasus had already slipped out of reach. “Surprise! Would you please quite doing that!?”

“Youcameyoucameyoucame! I knew you’d come, and wow, it looks like you had so much fun!” Surprise pressed her hooves to her cheeks, her eyes positively glowing. Only now did Fleur notice that the mare was covered in blood. “I’m so happy you’re enjoying yourself I’ve been having a blast and Uncle Fine was right the food here is yum yum yummy!”

A question almost left Fleur’s mouth, but she shook her head upon realizing the pointlessness of it. Of course Surprise would be down here, where all the action was. But in that case… “What are you doing at the airfield?”

“Oh, right. How silly of me.” Surprise giggled and flew away in a wide circle. Now that she was out of the way, Fleur noticed the young, grey mare. She looked a mess, her mane in tangles and bruises covering her body, but still looked better than Fleur at the moment. She kept her eyes on her hooves. The pathetic thing shook like a leaf, and her cheeks were stained with dried tears.

Surprise landed at the mare’s side and patted her shoulder. The mare flinched in response, but didn’t look up.

“Fleurry, meet Octy. Octy, Fleurry! Octy really knows how to have a good time, but I think she overdosed on fun, so I figured I’d take her to Fine and she can rest up before we go out to party some more!”

Fleur’s jaw dropped; had Surprise made a friend during all this insanity? She didn’t know what seemed more impossible, the concept of Surprise not trying to kill a pony the instant she met her, that there could be even one sane creature left in all of Sīṃgakh, or that any one pony would willingly go somewhere with Surprise. The combination of improbabilities left her speechless.

Surprise nuzzled her friend – Fleur found it decidedly strange to see that mare comforting anypony – then gestured to the same airship Fleur had been approaching. “We were gonna hitch a ride; I can’t carry Octy all the way up there. Wanna join us?”

It took Fleur a moment to recover her thoughts. “Oh. Um, yes. That would be nice.” She walked in a daze, watching as Surprise pronked ahead of them while singing an upbeat song that had something to do with ripping out nilgiri guts and comparing sizes.

How had she come to this point? She shivered in spite of the warm night air, trying to piece together the evening’s events. It all came back as a jumble of blood, pain and exhaustion. How many creatures had she killed? Just to prove a point. It had all seemed so dark and serious and vicious.

And now, in the span of just a few brief sentences, Surprise had made it all seem like fun and games. It was almost insulting to her struggle, not to mention to the lives lost.

But Surprise was just being Surprise. Despite the anger bubbling under the surface, Fleur wouldn’t begrudge the ignorant foal. No matter how badly she wanted to.

Seeking to distract from her frustration, Fleur turned her gaze to the mare walking beside her. ‘Octy?’ An off-the-cuff nickname of Surprise’s, to be certain. The mare appeared as exhausted as Fleur felt, and was hunched as if anticipating an attack. Except where Fleur would have defended herself, this pony’s manner suggested she would have simply taken the beating without any resistance. She didn’t appear submissive so much as she did broken. How could such a feeble-minded mare catch the eye of a monster like Surprise?

Surprise had gotten well ahead, so Fleur leaned closer to the mare. “Are you alright?”

‘Octy’ pulled away, her shoulders hunching even more. She squeezed her eyes shut as if anticipating a blow. Her only response was a feeble whine.

This pony had ‘played’ with Surprise? Fleur grimaced as an idea came to her. “She didn’t force you into this, did she?”

The mare didn’t respond beyond the slightest shake of her head. The reaction mystified Fleur, who decided to just give up for now. There were more important things on her mind than this simpleton anyway.

They arrived at the ship. Fleur started to ask Surprise to fly up and lower the entrance ramp, but stopped halfway when the ramp was lowered anyway. Curious, she climbed aboard, ignoring Surprise’s rant about some of the nilgiri she’d slaughtered that night. A pair of stallions met them, each wearing pendants with the Archon seal. They met Surprise warily, and were outright shocked when they recognized Fleur.

It didn’t take much to convince them to bring the trio to the Solar Flare. Between Surprise’s reputation, Fleur’s bad mood and their combined ranks, neither pony was willing to risk their heads. Within a matter of minutes, the small cargo ship was making its way to the luxurious vessel that oversaw this night of carnage.









The sky was bright. Not from the sun, that wasn’t to rise for a few hours yet. Fleur watched from the deck of the Solar Flare as the city of Sīṃgakh literally burned. She had no idea when the fires had started, but with the mayhem below and no one capable or willing to stop it, the blazes had consumed entire neighborhoods. The screams were no longer audible from this high up, but Fleur knew the fighting hadn’t ceased. Sīṃgakh’s population had been over a five hundred thousand creatures; the fighting would continue on for days, assuming the enchantment lasted that long.

Surprise hovered at her side. “Whatcha lookin’ at, Fleurry?”

“A sick dog,” she replied evenly. “A wasted cretin that had to be put down. At least, that’s what we’re supposed to think.”

Surprise set a hoof above her eyes and peered at the city. “Huh. I don’t see any dog. Are you sure?”

Fleur turned away, not so much as cracking a smile. “Come. I would speak with the Mane Archon.”

“Good idea! I can tell him about Octavia, and then I can head back down there and have some more fun. Come on, Octy!”

Octavia followed them, her tail tucked and her eyes on the floor. Fleur bristled; the mare’s endlessly meek behavior had started grating on her nerves some time ago. She wondered if Fine would have her killed. It only made sense; it was apparent that the Archons’ task here was to kill as many citizens as possible.

She knew Celestia was the one behind this purge. There could be no other pony behind this. Even so, Fleur simmered with anger over the tartarus she’d gone through tonight. She still limped and the pain refused to go away. Only carefully controlled breathing kept the sting down in her chest. All of this, just to earn Fine’s trust.

She resolved to buck him in the face as soon as she was healed up enough to do so.

Surprise was uncharacteristically silent. She flew at Fleur’s side, wings beating in a lazy rhythm and her semi-eternal smile subdued. Even though she was covered in blood, Fleur felt a touch of concern for the pony. “What’s got you so quiet?”

“Hmm?” Surprise glanced at her, then back at Octavia. The earth pony kept a safe distance and didn’t look up. “I’m just a little worried about her, that’s all.”

Fleur almost stopped in her tracks. “Worried? You?”

“I know. Weird, huh?” Surprise giggled lightly, rubbing her hooves together. Dried blood fell away in pieces, littering the path behind them. “It’s just… I don’t make a lot of friends, y’know?”

Fleur shook her head, concluding that she’d probably never completely understand Surprise. Once again, she had to question exactly what happened between her and Octavia.

Having been on the Solar Flare a few times in the past, Fleur knew exactly where to go to find Fine Crime. They reached the great doors to the observation deck, and she was surprised to find four royal guards standing in her path. The instant they recognized the two Archons, however, they visibly paled and stepped aside without so much as a word. Fleur walked past them with head held high, even as she questioned why royal guards would be present.

In a sudden burst of energy, her pale companion rammed the doors. “Surprise!”

The observation deck was more like a lounge. It spread forward in a curved pattern like an elongated egg, every wall made of windows. Plants lined the left and right sides and expensive white furniture had been placed in a number of locations. A bar and kitchen could be found to Fleur’s left, and on the opposite side of the room was a raised viewing platform. A tall chair – essentially a plush throne – sat on the platform facing the windows.

None of these things registered to Fleur’s mind. She was too busy staring at the two nilgiri fighting in the middle of the room, and the dozens of bodies that littered the place.

“Oh, wow,” Surprise said. “They had a party here too.”

“Go ahead, Surprise. Have fun.”

Fleur hardly heard Surprise’s gleeful cheer, or how she darted into the fray with the two unprepared nilgiri. Her attention was set entirely upon Fine Crime, who stood with his back to her beside the velvet throne. He was observing what appeared to be magical screens, over a dozen of them, that showed varied scenes of the ongoing havoc below. Nilgiri, griffons and ponies engaged in a ceaseless, bloody and brutal free for all, bodies littering every scene.

This was it. This was her opportunity. She stepped into the room, her head held high and her pace as regal as she could manage. Her blood boiled at the site of him standing there, untouched, unburdened, dealing death in the same way a dealer dealt cards.

“Ah, the star of the show enters the scene.”

Fleur’s blood froze. Her heart seized as she stared at the back of the throne, mind running in circles and a distinct sense of panic welling inside her mind. She’d heard the voice, but… but it couldn’t be. She wasn’t supposed to be here!

Yet there’d been no deception. The throne turned sideways to reveal a smirking Princess Celestia, who eyed her like one might a particularly entertaining toy. “You looked like you were having some fun. Good morning, Miss de Lis.”

“What?!” Fine turned in a flash, his face slack and eyes wide. “What the buck are you doing here?”

The sight of his shock was enough to erase Fleur’s hesitation. She snarled and approached him. “I’m proving a point. You didn’t think I was ready, but here I am! I survived—”

“Shut up.” The words were spoken with such force and behind a gaze of such ferocity that Fleur inadvertently complied. Normally she would have quailed under his harsh gaze, but tonight she overcame the fear and guilt threatening her mind and met his stare.

“I told you to drop it, Fleur. I told you directly.”

Fine’s gaze pierced her heart, but she resumed her focused walking. Her heart pounded, her body throbbed, her mind boiled. He had the gall to be angry at her? A seething flame grew within her, turning more and more wild with every step.

“Do you have any idea what could have happened? When I—”

Fleur, though she stood below him, put enough force into her punch to nearly drop him. Ignoring the searing pain covering her body, she jumped onto the platform and stared into his startled face. “No, I had absolutely no idea what you had planned, because you wouldn’t bucking tell me! All I ever wanted was for you to love me, and instead you don’t think I’m trustworthy! Well I slipped past your information network. I made it to Sīṃgakh. I saw blood and death and pain, and you know what? I’m alive! I killed ponies with my bare hooves, and I did it for you! You think I’m not—”

Fine’s shock ended, and his anger returned. He pushed her back with a shout. Unable to resist in her condition, Fleur tumbled back off the platform and fell with a pained cry on her back.

“You ignorant foal,” he hissed at her. “I kept you out of this to protect you!”

She met him glare for glare, slowly climbing back to her hooves. “I don’t need your protection. Only your affection.”

He let out a snarl. “Is that what you want? You chose the worst way to let me know.”

It abruptly dawned upon Fleur that she’d never seen such fire in his eyes. And it was aimed at her. Despite that, she didn’t hesitate. “It was the only way,” she countered, pressed her face against his. “You hardly noticed me for anything else!”

“You think I didn’t notice? I never took you to be stupid.”

She resisted the urge to hit him again. Barely. “I did this for you. I joined the slaughter for you!”

Fine screamed his next words in her face. “I did not rescue you from under the stairs to watch you throw your life away!”

Though her scowl remained, Fleur found herself unsure how to counter that.

He held her with his glare, his curled lip twitching. “I wanted to give you everything. I wanted you to be warm and sheltered and happy and loved. I wanted you to know a better life that you could have ever had beneath that bucking bastard who sired you. I let you grow in the direction you wanted, I funded the education you desired, I showered you with opportunities, I trusted you. And I did it all without ever risking you getting a drop of blood on your hooves, because damn it, Fleur, you are the most important pony in my life!”

Something grabbed and twisted Fleur’s heart. She gasped and almost fell, her eyes widening.

“But this?” Fine’s voice calmed, but still held a bite. “I can’t believe you. You did this, and now everything I had planned for you, all the things I had hoped for, they’re gone. You want to be an Archon? Fine. You’ve got it.” He turned away. “And all the pain that comes with it.”

Fleur rocked on her hooves, her mind reeled. She felt so very dizzy, and her tongue refused to obey her commands. She knew she needed to say something, but… but what? Slowly, she turned her head to take in her surroundings. She saw Surprise standing over the bodies of the two nilgiri, watching the interaction with pity in her eyes. There lay Octavia, cowering by the door and watching the scene from behind a shaking fetlock.

Then there was Celestia, who hadn’t moved at all. The Princess smiled sweetly, leaning into a hoof and appearing perfectly smug. She’d known. Somehow, the Princess had known she was there, even when Fine didn’t. How? How had she known?

It wasn’t important. Fleur turned to the only thing that held value in her small, shallow world: Fine Crime. “I… We…” Her tongue flopped about uselessly.

Celestia turned to Fine, her tone sweet. “You know, Fine, you should be impressed. After all, she managed to fight her way through an entire city of maniacs with no permanent damage. She even killed a fellow Archon who should have vastly outclassed her.”

Fine didn’t so much as glance at Celestia. “You saw her fighting down there. You saw it, and you didn’t tell me.”

Celestia’s giggle seemed almost childish. “Of course not. Where would be the fun in that?”

He snorted and turned his head away from her. “And you called me here, now, just because you knew she was coming and wanted to see the fireworks.”

“Permit an old mare her pleasures.”

Fleur took a wobbling step forward. “F-Fine? Do you really…”

“Do not speak to me,” he hissed, and Fleur found herself obeying. She had so many crazy feeling running through her brain that she had no idea how to react. Fine said he cared, but he was so upset, but he was going to let her do the real missions, but she’d crushed his hopes. So many accomplishments, so many failures, all bombarding her in tandem such that she didn’t know whether to laugh, cry or scream.

“Don’t worry, Miss de Lis,” Celestia said playfully. “Life only gets more interesting from here on in. And by the way, I just want to add how impressed I am that you resisted my mania spell.”

As much loathing as Fleur had for the princess, she latched onto the topic of conversation as if it were a life raft. “M-mania spell?”

“Indeed.” Celestia steepled her hooves and grinned at Fine. “As entertaining as it was having the Archons expend so much energy driving the varied criminal elements of Sīṃgakh apart, none of it was necessary. My spell would have – and has – done the job in a fraction of the time. That you managed to keep your head and not succumb to the desire for wanton viciousness is a testament to your mental prowess.”

She turned her throne back to the many images of violence, blood and death. “Watching this city rip itself apart has been so very entertaining. Most fun I’ve had since the Crystal Rebellion. But I must say, watching you trash your peaceful, comfy and secure future entirely of your own ignorance may well be the highlight of my night.”

Celestia looked at Fine, her smile turning into a leer. “And now? Now Fine is going to start sending you on the dangerous, bloody missions, whether he wants to or not. Shame on you, Fine Crime, for not telling me the whole truth regarding her activities.”

And Fleur knew Fine would do as Celestia said. His curse made it impossible to do otherwise. Yet if Fine had any feelings regarding this, they were hidden from her gaze by his back. But Celestia’s words…

Had he been shielding her all along? It wasn’t because he didn’t trust her?

She sank to her belly, heart cracking as she understood the full extent of her mistake. How could she have been so childish to not realize it? She just trampled all over Fine’s hard work – hard work performed entirely for her benefit!

“Fine… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“Go.” Fine’s voice was hollow, but it still silenced her. “Get treated. Find a room. Rest. We’ll talk later.”

Tears running down her cheeks, Fleur tried to speak again. Her throat was too tight to allow it. At last, she just nodded, stood and turned away. She walked past Surprise, who watched her with a forlorn smile. Past Octavia, who remained trembling against the wall without looking at her. Into the hall and past the stone-faced guards. She just walked, without direction, without purpose.

Amidst all the scathing, self-directed insults and circling questions, she wondered if her relationship with her beloved mentor would ever be the same. At long last, she’d reached that state of independence and strength she’d long desired. For the first time in her life, she’d come into her own.

She couldn’t remember having ever felt so miserable.
> Intermission IV — The Two
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------




I don’t think any of us have gotten over the shock quite yet. It was difficult, telling everypony what I planned to do. Octavia has been Heaven-sent in her support. I knew she would approve, but admit I was still worried. I accepted her letter this morning. It’s strange, I should feel relieved, but instead it feels like I’m losing another piece of my soul. I won’t hold her back, though. She deserves it.

Gulfstream is reacting to everything in his usual way: extreme violence. I’ll have to assign him some special work so that he can get it out of his system. It won’t come easy, though. I hope I can give him what he needs. In a way, I may be all he has left. Even that connection may be breaking, after what I told him today.

Vinyl’s taking it the best. I suppose that’s to be expected. Celestia was more than willing to assist her. I wonder if she'll keep working with us now that she has everything she wanted out of the deal.

Princess Luna concerns me. She has Trixie, true, but I can still remember the look on her face when I finally told her the truth. She blames herself. Perhaps she should. No, that is wrong; none of this is her fault.

I remember the first time I met Luna after her return. I still thought of her as a monster back then, fully prepared to believe the legends. But it was then, in that cell, that I saw why Fine put so much stock in her. I didn’t ‘get it’ until some time after.

But that is when I saw the real Luna for the first time.

—Fleur de Lis, Book of Shadows XLVIII,
June 15, 1007












August 26, C.Y. 1000 
 Manehattan


It never ceased to amaze Fleur. A bat of the eyelashes, a little sway of the hips while walking, a graceful step, just the right touch of makeup, the appropriate amount of confidence and allure. Get the ingredients just right and any colt will eat out of a mare’s hooves. She had the method down to an art.

Lord Tassel Wave was as pretentious as nobles came, but he liked his mares. What a shame he wasn’t attending this particular soiree. It didn’t matter; tonight wasn’t about meeting him, it was about getting his attention. The best way to do that was to turn heads, which was precisely what she was achieving. Were she a little less self-controlled, she might have strutted for how the stallions in the room kept watching her. More than a few had already attempted to chat her up, but she was playing the part of the hard-to-get, haughty celebrity this time.

As much as Fleur enjoyed the attention, tonight was about work. Mingling might be best part of these parties, but she had to pay attention to the least interesting of the attendants. In particular, the richest. It was for this reason that she kept close to the hosts of the party, one Mr. Stickin Stone and his wife, Sweet Dream. Had she not been in such close proximity, she probably would have missed the architect’s comment.

“I don’t care how big a deal it is for earth ponies everywhere, I’m not working on any project with Celestia’s signature on the endorsements.”

Their little corner of the room burst into a collective gasp, all eyes turning on the imposing white stallion. Fleur imitated the others’ shock, but was more curious than anything. Abandoning her current conversation – not that the stallion was paying attention to her now anyway – she moved a little closer to the scene.

“Mr. Stone,” hissed a nearby businesspony, “I think you should be very careful what you say.”

Stickin Stone blew his long silver mane from his face. “Oh, grow up. You all act like pegasi, scattering at the slightest hint of trouble.”

His wife – who just so happened to be a pegasus, orange with with a short blonde mane – set a hoof to his shoulder. “Honey, please. There’s no need to spook them.”

“Spook them?” Stikin eyed the gawking ponies, then gained a wicked smile. He faked a lunge at a nearby mare. “Boo!” She squeaked and backed away, perhaps intimidated by his size. Only the continued need to maintain her act kept Fleur from smirking.

An earth pony in a painfully purple suit stepped up to the stallion. “Stickin, please. As Captain, I’ve gotta tell you that I’ve seen things. You keep down this road and—”

“Oh, Goddess, Peacock, it was one comment.” Stickin downed the rest of his glass with a scowl. “Look, I’m not going to accept the endorsement of a princess who lets her demonic younger sister run around Equestria without restraint. When she shows some responsibility, then we’ll talk.”

Other ponies were backing away, and the Captain of the Royal Guard’s face paled. “Stickin! That’s Celestia you’re talking about. You do realize she has led us for a thousand years, don’t you?”

“You’re really scared of her, aren’t you? Think there’s an Archon listening in?”

Fleur barely held back her snort.

“Stickin, honey, that’s enough.” Sweet Dream stayed by her husbands side, but her ears had folded back and she was looking at the crowd as if expecting to come under attack at any moment.

Stickin glowered at her, but after a moment’s consideration nodded. “Very well. For your sake, Peacock, I won’t bother to explain why what you just said is actually a bad thing. Can we please just enjoy the rest of the night?”

The others complied, but the number of ponies willing to be around the couple had diminished. Fleur hung around for a little while longer, taking in the ongoing conversation. Unfortunately, it all had to do with architecture projects and business; no more juicy criticisms to be had. The only remotely interesting thing now was the way Captain Peacock kept getting a dour look whenever he thought nopony was looking.

Fleur decided to pay them no more mind. She was here for a reason, after all.










August 28, C.Y. 1000 
 Manehattan


Every stallion had a different way to his heart, but they did come in types. Fleur’s date for the evening was one of the exceptionally rare varieties that seemed to legitimately enjoy her company. It was okay to act smart, provided she was speaking to him directly and not over his head. There was no need to work on her looks prior to the date or lay it on thick, for he was just happy she was willing to spend time with him at all. It wasn’t that he had low standards, it was only that he expected his mare to be mortal.

In short, he was the easiest kind of tool for a night like this.

But the night had passed, and now they rode in his carriage, making for her hotel. Another advantage to colts of this sort: they didn’t get frisky the instant they were alone with her. Instead, the two of them were engaged in a pleasant conversation regarding local politics. He knew quite a bit for one so young, and even managed to inform Fleur of a few things.

“Vat do you mean, arrested?” This stallion did like her accent, so she kept it going. Weird, how the way she moved her tongue alone could turn a pony’s head.

“I mean exactly that,” he said. “Just this morning, Stickin Stone and his family were arrested.”

Fleur didn’t know whether to be shocked or offended, so she went with both. “Who vould do such a sing? Mr. Stone did nosing vrong. I vas at sat party and heard se entire conversation.”

Her companion shook his head. “Most ponies I know would consider insulting Princess Celestia a crime. Even saying her name without the honorific is frowned upon.”

She sniffed derisively. “And here I sought griffons vere jumpy. I doubt Celestia even knows vat vas said.”

He sighed and leaned back in his seat. “You are a unicorn, and not from Manehattan or Equestria, so I don’t expect you to understand right away. The fact is this is an earth pony town. Celestia has put severe restrictions on places that work against her, and she’s even less likely to look kindly on those of us who lack horns. We tread carefully, Fleur.”

She gave him a bemused look. “And just vat do sey expect her to do to se entire city just because of one stallion’s loose tongue?”

“Phillydelphia was put under martial law twenty years ago for less.”

“For less? I’m not sure a prison break counts as less san one stallion turning ze cold shoulder to a princess.”

He stared at her as if she’d just told him Celestia was a diamond dog. “What prison break?”

“Ah, not so knowledgeable as he sinks.” She chuckled at his dour expression. “Dig a little deeper, detective.”

“Hey, no fair!” He grinned and leaned a little closer, but it was more to emphasize his interest in the topic at hoof than any sultry desires. “You can’t hint at something and then refuse to tell me about it.”

She turned her head away and raised her chin. “I’d tell you, but sen I’d have to kill you.” It was an Archon job she was referring to, after all, even if it was one before her time.

“You think you’re a regular femme fatale, don’t you?” He sat back once more and crossed his forelegs. “Fine, don’t tell me. It just means your argument holds no weight.”

The conversation died as she considered what she’d learned. Stickin Stone, arrested. She wouldn’t put it past Celestia to do such a thing, but she truly doubted the princess knew of it, and if she did, why bother? It’s not like a single disgruntled stallion would topple an empire, or provide much in the way of entertainment. And besides, any such orders would have filtered through the Archons, and she'd intercepted nothing of the sort. The Stone Family had been served a grave injustice, but not by the princess.

Her gaze set on the passing buildings, she asked, “So… Vat’s going to happen to Mr. Stone and his family?”

“I heard they were going to be executed. Wait, I should have withheld that!”

She grimaced; executed over a few paltry words! One more reason to look forward to Celestia’s removal, assuming Fine could ever pull such a thing off. If Fleur were honest with herself, she found the idea highly doubtful.

There could be no gain from thinking on the topic any further. Mr. Stone had made his grave, and that of his family. Pining over a bunch of nobles she didn’t even know would do her no favors. She had a mission to complete. Nothing else mattered.

Within a few days, she’d be out of the city and have forgotten all about the Stones.










August 30, C.Y. 1000 
 Manehattan


Fleur awoke with full alertness, already climbing out of her bed to the sound of a gentle chiming. It took only a second to locate the gem communicator apparatus she’d put together the day she arrived in the city. She tapped it, waited for the emerald to blink a few times to confirm the connection, then spoke. “This is Little Miss.”

The voice was scratchy with static, but still readily identifiable. “Hello, Little Miss. It’s Shadow Pony.”

Her jaw dropped and her ears perked. “I thought you were supposed to be in Las Pegasus this week.”

“I am.”

She sucked in a sharp breath upon realizing that this was going to be more than a request for status. “Do you have any idea how much power you’re using right now? Even a fully charged G-Seven battery setup will drain out in five minutes at that distance. You could have sent a letter by potion.”

His voice grew serious. “I had to make sure you’d get the message immediately. What do you know about the Stone Family?”

Fleur cocked her head. “They were executed this morning.” She glanced at the clock on the wall. “Excuse me, yesterday morning.”

“All of them?”

“I don’t understand.”

If Fine had any impatience in him, it didn’t show in his voice. “Stickin had sons, Little Miss. Twins.”

Her eyes widened at this revelation. “You mean they executed children?”

“Not children. Sons. They’re adults, and we want confirmation that they’re dead.”

Fleur groaned and rubbed her temple, wishing she were still in bed. “I have no idea. The Stone Family isn’t exactly a top priority for me.”

“They are now,” Fine said, tone sharp. “Eclipse is heading to Manehattan. You are to help her with whatever she requires, starting with finding out the health and location of those sons.”

Fleur’s eyes widened at the mention of Princess Luna’s code name. “What? Why does she care?” Fleur tried to fathom what the witch might have planned, but the princess’s manner still eluded her. “Shadow Pony, I’m supposed to meet with my target tomorrow.”

“The assassination will have to wait.”

She growled through clenched teeth, barely resisting the urge to send the gem assembly flying across the room. “I don’t appreciate my targets getting away.”

The static grew stronger around his voice; the connection would collapse soon. “Sorry, Little Miss, not my call. When Eclipse says she wants some… you do…”

They probably had thirty seconds of garbled communication left. “I’ll do what I can. Where am I to meet her?”

“She’ll… you at…”

Or not. Fleur banged her hoof on the gem, cutting it off and saving what little battery power she had left. For a pleasant moment, she thought about tossing the apparatus out the window, but rejected the idea with a scowl. She took the spent gem battery from the assembly and replaced it with a fresh one from her luggage. Fine might want to contact her again to complete the message, after all. Then again, she was awake now; a proper letter was probably imminent.

Overshadowing her frustration was one unpleasant thought: Princess Luna was coming to Manehattan, and she had been assigned to act as liaison. Her, liaison to Nightmare Moon. Why not just cut her head off now and be done with it?

Although… This could be a good sign. Fleur knew there were only four Archons currently in the city. Any of them could have been chosen for this task, but Fine contacted her. He’d given her many a dangerous, high-profile mission since Sīṃgakh, but this felt different. Maybe this was a sign that he was finally willing to trust her like he used to. Not that he’d ever shown any sort of mistrust, not really. But there’s been a distance between them since that night. Maybe now...

A few years ago, Fleur might have responded to her thoughts with joy. Tonight, that pleasure was kept in reserve. After all, she still had to deal with Nightmare Moon – a daunting prospect by itself – and get her the information she needed. Once she’d come out of this alive and successful, then she’d risk being pleased by these developments.

Sleep tugged at her eyes, but she forced the urge down. She’d have some coffee, then contact the other Archons in the city. Surely one of them had to know something about these two stallions the princess was so interested in.










September 1, C.Y. 1000 
 Manehattan


Getting atop the roof of the Royal Guard’s Manehattan Branch Headquarters had been foal’s play. Fleur still had most of her gems and the master key to the building. She’d not performed a direct infiltration in months, so it was good to know she still had the knack for it. Perhaps Fine would be proud.

She stood at the edge of the building, staring up at the waning moon in quiet anticipation. Despite the pleasure of her success, anxiety coursed through her in an endless, relentless stream. Somewhere in that darkness, the Bane of Equestria stalked the skies. Would Nightmare Moon meet her as a friend?

Did Nightmare Moon meet anypony as a friend?

Old horrors, long forgotten since she came to Equestria as a filly, returned to the forefront of her mind. Oh, how her father and brothers tormented her with stories of Kaoshmar, who devoured naughty fillies that didn’t obey and accept their beatings in silence. So many nights trembling under the stairs, fearful eyes set upon the wide cracks in the wall that surely looked inviting to the monster of the dream world. Sleep and face potential horrors untold, or stay awake and face the wrath of an angry stallion for her weariness.

Fleur ground her hoof in the cement. Her lips curled back as she snarled. Fear coursed through her, and that fear drove her anger. She could not tell if her frightened state was to do with foalish childhood fantasies or the very real menace of the creature coming to see her, and that uncertainty only frustrated her more. She was not a foal anymore, she shouldn’t let old stories get to her! But Nightmare Moon was real, and dangerous, and of her she should be afraid.

Not because of foalhood stories. She reminded herself of it over and over again. It did little to calm the flame in her mind.

A harsh wind blew her mane over her face.

“You must be Miss de Lis.”

Her heart became a ball of ice at that harsh voice. Fleur pushed her mane back and turned around slowly. Princess Luna stood before her, blue eyes cold and lips set in a thin line. She was, to Fleur’s mild surprise, only a little taller than the Archon.

Fleur promptly bowed, grateful that she could keep her legs from shaking. “Princess Luna. Welcome to Manehattan.”

The princess continued in the same cool tone. “I have heard rumor of a grave injustice done in my sister’s name. I would see the pony responsible for such a thing.”

Injustice? Uncertainty blended with the fear in Fleur’s mind. Was Nightmare Moon not in league with Princess Celestia? True, the stories said otherwise, but Fleur knew that the Nightmare was actually a willing pawn in her game of self-idolization. In that case—

“She fears us, Luna.”

Fleur barely avoided looking up. That voice sounded like Luna, but managed to be more… Was ‘wicked’ an appropriate descriptor? ‘Playful’ might be a better choice.

“She fears you, Nightmare,” Luna said in a droll tone. “I had nothing to do with this.”

“And you think I did? It’s not like I sought this pony out after learning her name and location.” A chuckle danced through the night air. “Although it does sound like fun.”

“Be silent. We agreed this would be my night.”

“Oh, Luna, you know how much I enjoy playing with your things.”

“Silence.”

Seconds passed, the quiet night interrupted only by the wind and Fleur’s heavy breathing. Her ears were folded back and her heart pounded. Everything she’d just heard confirmed the rumors: Luna was insane. She had to fight down the voice of her father and brothers with everything she had, praying all the while that she would avoid agitating the monster’s psychosis.

“Rise, Miss de Lis.”

Fleur did so, thanking Fine a thousand times over for helping her learn to control her emotions. She neither trembled nor stammered as she spoke. “Yes, Princess. I know where the sons of Mr. Stone are imprisoned, and I know who issued the order for the execution of him and his wife.”

Princess Luna considered this, her expression entirely unchanged. “Show me to the villain responsible for this.”

“Of course. Did you prefer stealth?”

“My sister is already using me as a scapegoat for her villainy,” the princess replied. “It matters little if I come storming through the city or act from the shadows. I would prefer to do this openly.”

Fleur nodded, then gestured to herself. “My identity as an Archon remains unknown. If I—”

“You are a certified Master of Illusions, are you not?” Luna’s eyes narrowed. “Be illusive.”

Fleur bit her tongue to keep her retort in check. “As you wish.”

Her horn glowed brightly and a wave of shimmering air washed over her. Once completed, she examined her hoof. It remained visible, but transparent. “I believe this will suffice. I may have to pause for a break along the way.”

“I understand. How far is it to the perpetrator?”

Fleur gave the princess a firm look, not caring that she was invisible. “He resides in this very building.”









It appeared that Princess Luna was not one for subtlety. After confirming that she could still see Fleur’s magical trace, she followed the Archon directly through the headquarters without so much as a knock on the doors. Her firm walk, billowing mane and icy visage were enough to make every pony who spotted her stand well clear. A few tried to ask her about her presence, but she brushed past them all without a word. Not a soul dared try twice.

Fleur didn’t blame them in the least. She liked to consider herself capable of performing the ‘ice queen’ look when needed, but the princess made her appear an amateur. Of course, Fleur didn’t have the stigma of Nightmare Moon following her wherever she went.

Forced to walk ahead as a guide, Fleur dodged most ponies and shoved her way past those she couldn’t. They were so startled at the abrupt appearance of Princess Luna in their midst that they hardly reacted, perhaps thinking they were being pushed aside by her magic. In any case, they reached the office of Puffed Peacock, Captain of the Manehattan Royal Guard, in short order. She pushed the door open and entered, quickly slipping to the side so she’d be out of the princess’s way.

Puffed Peacock was a light purple earth pony sporting a thin, dark blue mane. He was currently being entertained by the company of a brown-coated pegasus mare whose head popped up from his lap the moment the door opened. Peacock sat up quickly, face red and sweaty, clearly prepared to fire vitriol from all barrels.

Then he saw who had just entered his office and began choking on the aborted words. The mare was away from the desk and on her knees before the princess in less than a second, her wings still spread wide. Fleur scowled at the disgusting creature, while also swelling with pride that she didn’t need to perform such base actions to do her job.

If Princess Luna shared in her distaste, she gave no outward sign of it. She looked upon the cowering mare as if she were an insect and spoke evenly. “Get out.”

The whore scurried past in a blur.

“P-Princess! Please, I apologize for you seeing us in such a—”

“Your carnal activities on the job are of no concern to me.” Luna leveled Peacock with a stare that would have frozen a blazing fire. “I have come here to discuss something far more damning.”

“M-More?” Peacock seemed to finally remember to bow, but was in such a hurry to do so that he fell out of his chair and onto his face. He crawled around his desk like a dog and prostrated himself. “Of course, Your Majesty! J-just tell me who you want locked up and I’ll see it done. Give me a name and he’ll have disappeared by sunrise!”

For the first time since her arrival that night, the princess reacted. Merely the twitch of an eyebrow, to Fleur it was like seeing a bomb seconds before detonation. There came a moment’s pause. Ponies watched from within the hall. Not a soul dared disturb the moment.

Princess Luna’s hoof rose slowly. Fleur leaned forward, anticipating what may be coming.

The silver-shod hoof dropped onto Peacock’s head with a thump, forcing a cry from the stallion. The princess ground it on his skull, her expression as rigid as ever.

“I want to know, clearly, what the charges were against sir Stickin Stone and his wife, Sweet Dream.”

Peacock squirmed beneath her hoof, face hidden beneath his mane. “Of course! They were accused of slander against the crown, against your sister! I had to make an example of them, your highness, to show this city’s loyalty!”

“Loyalty.” The princess ground her hoof even more, making the pony moan. “And were they convicted? Where is the record of a trial?”

“C-convicted? Princess, I heard the words myself. Stickin Stone insulted your sister!”

“How. What did he say, exactly?”

The squirming stopped. Peacock said not a word. Fleur watched in mute anticipation, eager to see in what direction this was going. Thus far, it had not been in the direction she’d expected.

“He… He said that Princess Celestia was a foal for… for… for letting you roam free.”

Fleur wished she could see Peacock’s face, if only so she could get a gauge on what he was thinking.

“I… He also… insulted you. By suggesting it was a bad thing?”

The princess studied him, then slowly pulled her hoof away. Then blackness swirled into existence on her blue coat as if the two colors were being mixed in a jar of water. They swam about one another in a wild dance until only the black remained. Nightmare Moon, her eyes shining like diamonds, leaned over the prostrate captain with a fanged smile. “Sticks and stones may break my bones.”

Peacock looked up. Upon finding the Nightmare’s grinning visage so close to his face, he pulled away on instinct. “W-what?”

Her head tilted back and forth in a slow rhythm, the smile never leaving her face. “Sticks and stones may break my bones.” The playful, almost musical way she said it made Fleur tremble, but she didn’t dare look away.

Peacock sat up, sweat beading on his brow. Nightmare Moon followed his motion perfectly, keeping her face close to his the entire time. Her head continued its rhythmic tilting, back and forth like a metronome. “Stick and stones may break my bones.”

“I-I, I don’t understand!” He backpedaled, but the Scourge of Equestria met his every movement, her face always the same distance from his. “Please, Princess, I don’t understand!”

Fleur’s heart beat rapidly as she watched the exchange. She had to fight down an intense urge to flee, but somehow she suspected it was going to be worth it. She kept her hooves planted firmly on the floor and didn’t dare look away.

“Sticks… and Stones.”

The Nightmare moved forward, and the Captain was pinned to the wall by her gaze.

“May break my bones.”

“P-please, what are you trying to—” His words cut off with a choking sound. A ring of magic wrapped around his throat.

“But words?”

The magic carried him into the air, his back still pressed against the wall.

“Words can get you killed.”

Peacock kicked wildly, his eyes bulging. His mouth opened and closed like a fish with only the faintest wheezes to accompany the motion.

Nightmare’s voice was almost playful. “By presuming to know our will, you have insulted us. By your own methods, that demands your life be forfeit. So tell us, Captain: do you think what you did was warranted?”

She leaned forward, turned her head and perked an ear. All she got in return was Peacock’s desperate rasps as his face turned blue. “Hmm… Nothing to say. I guess if you don’t wish to object, I might as well carry out the sentence. Sticks and stones may break our bones, but words will get you killed. That’s your policy, after all.”

The captain’s head shook feebly. His eyes rolled back into his head. Fleur watched in fascination, barely conscious of how she held her breath.

Then, abruptly, the magic dissipated and the stallion dropped to the floor. He hacked and breathed deep, tears streaming down his cheeks. He made no attempt to stand. Fleur felt her own lungs take in breath and felt the unnoticed tension in her shoulders ease.

The darkness returned to blue in an instant, and Princess Luna stepped away from the fallen captain. “First you take over uninvited, then this? Your approach was uncalled for, Nightmare.”

As Fleur watched in quiet awe, Luna’s face shifted from its normal appearance to having fangs and those draconian eyes. “Oh, relax, Luna. You wanted to scare him, didn’t you?”

Just as quickly, the eyes reverted to normal irises and the fangs faded. “Your interference is neither required nor desired.”

Nightmare’s visage returned, complete with a smug smile. “Spare me your goody-four-hooves mewling. You know these ponies already fear us.”

And back. “As I said, they fear you! And I would appreciate it if you stopped making it so easy for them to equate us.”

“As if you’re not guilty of plenty of things.”

“I should have known you wouldn’t leave me to do this on my own.”

The princess’s ear flicked. She was silent for a couple of seconds. Then she turned sharply, facing the crowd watching mutely from the door, her mouth filled with fangs and her eyes wide. “Boo!”

The herd left in a screaming stampede. The hall was cleared in less than a second, fluttering pieces of paper the only signs that it had been occupied.

The vicious visage faded yet again. For once, Luna made no attempt to disguise her anger. “That was uncalled for, Nightmare!”

Fangs, draconian eyes and a wicked grin. “Maybe, but it was lots of fun.”

Luna shook her head violently. “Leave me in peace! You’ve had your time.”

“Of course, of course.” Nightmare’s grin faded to a small smile. “But first…”

She whipped around again, this time to Captain Peacock, who was just beginning to sit up. In a flash of light, a sword of glimmering silver flung through the air. It impaled the captain through the chest and stabbed deep into the wood behind him. His jaw dropped in a gasp and his eyes went wide. He reached up with trembling hooves to grasp the obsidian hilt.

Cackling laughter filled the air, but was cut off when Princess Luna reared back with a shout. “Nightmare! That was not part of the plan!”

She dropped to all fours, wings outstretched, and whipped her head around as if in search for her tormentor. All pretensions were gone now; her teeth were bared, her eyes wide in a vicious visage and steam roiled from her nostrils.

“Nightmare, answer me! He was meant to stand trial for his actions, you foul, wicked abomination!”

No answer came, and after turning a few circles the princess stilled herself. She glared down at the captain, who appeared to be growing weaker by the second. He looked up at her with pleading eyes, reached out a shaking hoof.

Princess Luna turned from him, her blue eyes narrowed and her stance tall. After only a moment of pause, she looked directly at Fleur. The Archon had watched the entire scene in quiet alarm, every moment a fresh surprise. And now she recalled that she still had a role in this scene. The thought was most disquieting.

Gradually, the princess’s expression softened. She paid no mind to the final rasping breaths of the captain. When she at last spoke, her voice was soft. “Do you think me insane, Archon?”

Fleur tensed, her mind scrambling for a response that wouldn’t awaken the demon. “I… uh… I…”

“Do not let it burden you.” Luna looked away, her gaze going distant. “You would not be the first, and I have long given up on defending myself.”

The soothing tone was enough to let Fleur relax, but only so much; considering what she’d just seen, she wasn’t about to let her guard down.









The Manehattan jail, situated underneath the Royal Guard Headquarters, were a nicer set of accommodations than most such places Fleur has visited in the past. It certainly appeared more comfortable than the Canterlot dungeons. That made perfect since, though, seeing as of how those were part of Celestia’s home. She’d once heard the princess refer to them as her ‘playground.’ The thought gave her chills.

She walked at Princess Luna’s side, her invisibility spell re-engaged after a few minutes of rest. She’d not held the spell for so long before, but felt no issues with the task. They were in a long, wide hallway of concrete, bright magelights shining overhead. There were no guards on duty; they’d all fled for their lives once Princess Luna stalked in. As such, the only sound to grace their ears were the echoing clops of their hooves on cement.

The quiet lingered. Princess Luna had said nothing to Fleur during their walk to the jail, and she wasn’t inclined to start a conversation. Her mind kept going over what she’d seen in the Captain’s office. Fine had once told her that the princess was of two minds, but to see it in action still left her anxious. How long had the princess possessed such a disorder? Was this the cause of Nightmare Moon, or only a symptom? Fine had offered to explain everything to her, but she’d waved him off, having never been interested in the fiend.

Now that that fiend walked at her side, Fleur realized how foalish that decision had been. If only she knew what would set the Nightmare off…

“Why illusions?”

Fleur paused, her gaze turning to the princess. It took her a moment to process her thoughts. “I beg your pardon?”

The princess stopped to look back, not revealing anything through her stoic face. “I can sense your power, Miss de Lis. That horn of yours possesses an undeniable strength, enough to rival my sister’s protégé. Why devote all that magic to something as indirect as illusions?”

Fleur chewed her lip, wondering how wise it would be to reveal her reasons to such a pony.

Luna gestured languidly. “You may release your spell.”

A ball of worms found its way into Fleur’s stomach. To reveal herself here, when there was no telling who might be around the next corner…

“That was a command, Archon.”

Lips pursed and heart fluttering, Fleur did as she was told, dispelling the mirage of light surrounding her.

The princess eyed her, a thoughtful frown on her lips. “A Master Illusionist and Gemcraft Supremacist. Most unicorns of your natural ability would focus on something more… destructive.”

Fleur wanted to avoid this conversation. She was almost desperate not to think about what was being asked of her. “I… I just chose to do somesing unusual.” She barely resisted pawing the floor. “I had to be, to get into se Canterlot school.”

Princess Luna leaned a little closer, making Fleur sit back and avoid eye contact.

“You are from Grypha.”

It took a moment for Fleur to realize that she’d slipped into her old accent. Cheeks flushing, she nodded.

“Hmm…” Eyes narrowing, the princess turned away and resumed her walk. Fleur hurried to keep up, but kept her distance. Now more than ever, she wished this night could be over.

“I wonder what I would find if I entered your dreams.”

Her head whipped up, eyes going wide. “I… Vat? Vy vould you—” She bit her tongue upon catching her own accent, and princess glanced back at her. Legends had always told of Celestia’s sister being able to enter dreams, and Fine once said… “Did you really enter the Mane Archon’s dreams while he was tested by Princess Celestia?”

“You’re getting off topic.” Luna faced forward once more. “But yes. I’m considering entering yours.”

Fleur barely held back her whimper. Her nightmares had grown rare, but sometimes, in the nights when she felt particularly lonely…

“Why illusion and gemcraft?”

Understanding finally hit Fleur, and she realized that she was trapped. The princess would learn the truth, one way or another. With head bowed, she finally replied, “Because my strength scares me.”

Not looking back, her tone no more comforting than it was commanding, Princess Luna asked, “You had an incident?”

Fleur nodded, knowing she wouldn’t be seen. “Back at the orphanage, two griffons cubs tried to kill me. I… lashed out.” And then there was Sīṃgakh...

The princess’s tone turned inquisitive. “Was it not self defense?”

Fleur shook her head, trying her hardest not to remember, but it was too late. She could still smell the charred flesh of Topoy. The image of Tochnost’s two talons hitting the floor appeared on the back of her eyelids as if they were still before her. “No. I snapped. My horn lock broke that night, and I was so angry. I almost murdered those two cubs, and I remember…”

At last, the princess looked back, studying her with a lone, peering eye. “Yes?”

Fleur’s legs locked.  In her mind's came the unbidden image of her jamming a small dioptase gem into a nilgiri's mouth before activating its acidic melt charm. The gargling screams tortured her ears. Her heart throbbed and she took slow, calming breaths. Even so, her words came out in a hushed whisper.

“I enjoyed hurting them.”

The princess’s eye widened, but not in alarm. She closed her eyes and shook her head forcefully, murmuring something. She sucked in a deep breath and turned forward once more. It took some time, but Fleur managed to follow, grateful that the conversation seemed to be over. She wasn’t looking forward to her dreams tonight.

They continued through the bright halls in silence. In time they came to the cells, all of which were closed off not by doors of metal, but solid stone. Each had a large plate by the door handle with a letter and a number. Fleur walked the route by rote, having studied the jail’s blueprints and taken extensive notes from a few interviews committed to stallions drunk on a combination of flattery, alcohol and poison joke extract. Getting to the cell they sought was foal’s play.

“Thirteen-twenty-two.” Fleur stopped by the door they’d been seeking and raised the skeleton key in her magic. “Would you like to do the honors, princess?” She was grateful when Princes Luna took the keys in her magic; whatever she intended to do to these boys, she did not want to bear witness to it. She turned back to the hallway, took a couple steps—

“No, Miss de Lis. You stay.”

Biting down a curse, she obediently turned back. “As you wish.”

The key aimed for the keyhole, but paused. Luna’s expression remained unreadable, her gaze set on the handle of the door for some time. Fleur kept her gaze low, maintaining a submissive pose.

“Do not fear your strength, Fleur.”

She blinked and looked up. “I beg your pardon?”

“Do not fear your strength,” the princess repeated. No expression appeared on her face, and her eyes remained set upon the door. “Only those who would seek to abuse it.”

Without another word, she unlocked the door and stepped inside. Fleur stared after her at first at a loss, but then followed.

Fleur had seen the records. She’d known the two stallions were only a year younger than her. Still, she’d expected them to appear younger, for whatever reason. They lay in a room of pale grey concrete, with only a bright light above them and some hay to sleep on. Both were white like their father, but one sported blonde and the other a silver mane. They lay side by side in the hay, dejected and weary.

The one in silver, a pegasus, lacked his father’s impressive height. Aside from that one difference, however, the resemblance to Stickin Stone was almost surreal. Combine his handsome features with his visible muscles, and Fleur wondered if he hadn’t left a broken heart or two in his wake.

The other stallion appeared wholly different. Rotund and stocky, the earth pony lacked any of his twin’s musculature, but shared the soft, coltish facial features undoubtedly inherited from their mother.

And yet, it was he who raised his head, while his brother offered no reaction at all. As soon as he recognized their royal visitor, he nuzzled his brother and whispered something. The bigger stallion didn’t react.

With the lightest of whines, the blonde rose to his hooves, only to bow low before the princess. He said not a word.

Princess Luna stared down at him, her expression soft. “You are Jimmy and Nye Stone?”

The blonde nodded as best he could with his muzzle touching the floor. “Y-yes, Your Majesty. I am Nye.” His brother kept quiet.

“And you are aware of the situation?”

Nye raised his head, but his eyes settled on the princess’s hooves. “I… We are.” He swallowed audibly and his entire body shook. “Are you… Are you here to kill us?”

Fleur looked to Princess Luna, searching for any sign of the Nightmare. Instead, the alicorn chewed her lip and shuffled in place. Fleur found the expression on her face mesmerizing, if only because it seemed so incredibly odd compared to everything she’d seen so far in the princess’s emotional repertoire.

Finally, Luna said, “I would know your side of the story.”

Nye’s eyes rose at last, his features a mix of confusion and fear. “I—”

“We don’t know anything!”

Jimmy had sat up and was staring at the princess, his pupils small in wide eyes. “We don’t know anything, I swear! Father said something. That’s all, he just said something! We don’t even know what he said! Please, we didn’t do anything wrong.”

Princess Luna raised her leg in an anxious display, her head turning just slightly towards Fleur. “Mr. Stone, I ask that you—”

But the muscular stallion dove into a bow, his wings trembling. “We’re sorry! P-please, we’ll make up for whatever Father did, just have mercy! Please, we didn’t do anything wrong. Nothing. N-Not a thing…” He fell into indecipherable mumblings, broken periodically by quiet sobs.

Mommy! I’m sorry! I tried to be a good girl, I really did!

Fleur didn’t know whether to feel pity or disgust. She cast a worried look at the princess, but the alicorn seemed at a loss for words.

It was Nye who broke the silence. “Please forgive him, Princess. He was… close to our father.” He looked up at Luna with an imploring gaze. “Knowing I have no place to make this request, I humbly beg your forgiveness. If there is anything we can do to make up for our father’s sin, I assure you it will be done.” He rested his forehead on his fetlocks. “Our lives are in your hooves.”

Fleur watched the scene in rapt fascination. The twins bowed in subservience, and the princess appearing as if she’d just watched a foal murdered for sport. Her lips trembled, her face twitched, her eyes painted a picture of weariness and sorrow. At last, she turned away from the two stallions and sat. She took in slow, even breaths, her gaze going beyond the walls of the cell.

“I suppose I should be grateful,” she whispered. Fleur wasn’t certain if she was meant to overhear. “After a hundred years, Equestria hasn’t changed. Frightened, cowed foals lash out at the slightest pretense, all for fear of the wrath of my sister. That this remains so painfully true… At least Equestria isn’t worse. That’s… that’s something, is it not?”

She glanced at Fleur as if expecting a response, but the Archon could only stare in mute uncertainty. How did one answer such a query?

The princess shook her head. “I cannot stop her, not on my own, not with the demon in my head.” She cringed, entire body jerking as if struck by electricity. She hunched low and tensed. “That was not a summons, Nightmare.”

Fleur stepped back, her horn glowing dimly as she thought of a hundred potential spells and took mental stock of the gems still on her body.

The moment passed, and the princess sat up straight once more. She sighed and turned back to the prostrate stallions. “I cannot fix this broken world, but… if I can protect a pony or two from my sister’s influence, I would welcome the opportunity. It is better than doing nothing.”

As Fleur relaxed, Nye dared to raise his head once more. He spoke in a tone of unsteady optimism. “Princess?”

Though no smile graced her lips, Princess’s Luna’s voice was comforting. “Be at ease, My Little Pony. There will be no more death this night. I will ensure that you will not share your parents’ dire fate.”

He said nothing at first, but his smile would have given Surprise a run for her bits. He moved backwards and whispered in his ever-trembling brother’s ear. Jimmy Stone gasped and looked up at the princess with wide eyes, tears having already moistened his cheeks. He crawled forward and wrapped his legs around one of the alicorn’s, sobbing as he did. “Oh, thank you, princess! Thank you so much!”

Princess Luna’s eye twitched. She tugged her leg back, but without enough force to dislodge the stallion.

Nye Stone climbed to his hooves and jerked on his brother’s tail. “Jim, I don’t think she appreciates that.”

“Right, right!” Jimmy retreated and pressed his forehead to his fetlocks, wings spread wide on the floor. “F-forgive me, Princess. If there is anything we can do, anything, please, tell us! Tell us how to repay this generosity, and we’ll—”

Nye struck his brother’s shoulder. “Jim! You’re overdoing it. Just shut up and be happy, alright?”

Jimmy merely whimpered and maintained his prostrate position.

I obeyed, I didn’t argue, I cooked, I cleaned, I didn’t talk. Even when they hit me, I didn’t talk! Please tell me I’m a good filly, please, please, please!

Something vile made its way up Fleur's throat. She pressed a fetlock to her lips and turned away from the sight, struggling to push the stuff back down. She could almost feel the chill wind against her cut and bruised coat. The memory brought hot tears to her eyes, heated by a fire that grew steadily in her chest.

Luna’s voice reached her ears. “Miss de Lis? Are you alright?”

Fleur forced her hoof away from her face with a stomp, swallowing the last of the acid in her throat. Her words came out cold and harsh. “Get him up and stop his whimpering, or get him out of my sight.”

A long pause.

“Come, brothers Stone. You will join me in Canterlot, where I shall decide your futures. Thank you for your service tonight, Miss de Lis.”

Hoofsteps faded into the depths of the jail, and Fleur didn’t move. She merely stood still, forcing her breathing to come in a long, slow rhythm. In, out, in, out, until the pathetic voice of a filly faded from her mind. Gradually, she raised a hoof before her muzzle. It shook violently.

“I am good,” she whispered, fighting not to clench her teeth. “I’m not Fleur Purpurnyj. I am not that pathetic, good for nothing waste of air.” She stomped once more, whipping her mane back and standing tall. “I am Fleur de Lis, and nopony will ever hurt me again. Never.”

She turned to face the empty cell. Her eyes fell upon the thin bed of hay. She could see herself lying there, cold and miserable and alone, longing for somepony to love her, even if she had to accept a beating for it. With a growl, she fired a small beam, igniting the hay. As the flames rapidly spread through the room, she left and slammed the door behind her.

She’d never be that pathetic again.
> Book V – Cruelles Caballeron: Find of a Lifetime
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------




Y’know, I sometimes wonder why I keep writing in these things. It’s not like I’m doing any real science. Not anymore. Guess it’s just habit. All my years in the field and in front of the classrooms sticking in my head like a damn sickness. I tried so hard to forget my old life, but I keep doing this, the one thing I still have left from that time. Well, that and Boomer.

Can’t get rid of Boomer, though. Old friends and all that.

All my life, I’ve lived by one simple rule: roll with it. Some of my former students would have scoffed had they known my motto, especially with the tests I gave. Still, it’s not like I was mean. I just had high expectations. Archeology is not a field for the faint of heart. It’s hard, slow, tedious, and it pays diamond dog dung unless you make a big find.

I’m thinking about it again. About her.

Not going there tonight.

—Cruelles Caballeron, Book of Shadows XLVIII,

December 20, 1002

Excerpt from personal diaries, translated from Palabras del Sur, June 16, 1007












March 7, C.Y. 987 
The Badlands


The Magnetic Enchanted Microscope, or MagEM, was a clunky thing. It took up a third of the flimsy folding table, which bowed under the weight. It cost a fortune, and if it got damaged the repairs would put the entire expedition behind for weeks. It had to be handled in a magic-free environment to protect the special enchantments that made the whole thing work. Just transporting it had required a specialized wagon, the design of which would make any seasoned offroad traveler laugh hysterically. It was, put simply, a pain in the flank.

And yet this was the finest instrument for specialized macro-and-micro observation the Third Academy of Sciences in Estéril Pezuñas had ever produced, and if you babied it then you’d never get a better view. And for this reason did Cruelles Caballeron endure all the trials required to bring it to this remote site in the middle of some of the most challenging terrain outside of the Burning Lands. It was also why he only permitted himself and two other members of the expedition to enter this tent. The students can mean as well as they want, he wasn’t going to put this on hold because of their clumsiness.

The air was cool thanks to an enchantment on the tent. Another expensive luxury, but it had little to do with comfort and everything to do with protecting the delicate equipment. A shard of pottery lay under the microscope’s receiving lens, its surface covered in faint engravings. As Caballeron looked through the eyepieces, he was treated to an up-close view of one mark that looked not unlike a bowed pony.

A curious mark, the Syen-Tak. In common pony it could be translated as the letter ‘d’, although a few outliers argued it might be better to think of it as ‘t’. This letter of the ancient Jackal alphabet was solely responsible for the common misconception that the jackals enslaved ponies. The more knowledgeable knew that the appearance was entirely coincidental, but this didn’t stop the occasional conspiracy theorist or crackpot from writing some bestselling piece of ‘non-fiction’ that spread the idea like wildfire. The true tale of Clawpatra was so much more fascinating, and those foals made their wealth on clichéd tales of slaves romancing queens and fighting wars in her name.

He shook his head, dispelling thoughts of amateur paperback archeologists, and shifted the shard of pottery until his view was between two characters. His attention settled on the striations. He smiled at the smoothness of the stone and the parallel formations of the cracks that, even at this magnification, were barely visible. It was everything he could have hoped for.

Pulling away, he took the piece of pottery as gently as he could and set it in a thin, padded box along with five other shards. With the box full, he carefully set some foam pellets inside, then closed and sealed the box. He still had another dozen pieces to go through, but thus far this expedition was proving fruitful. Sure, it wasn’t the lost city of Rohtwa Liur, but it was certainly enough to justify the trip.

His ears perked to the sound of shouting. He sighed and turned to the rest of the finds, trusting in one of his three team leaders to settle the dispute. Probably one of the minotaurs getting defensive again. He hadn’t wanted those giant brutes along for the trip, but his colleagues talked him into it. In their defense, they were only half as troublesome as he’d come to expect.

The shouting didn’t fade. Indeed, it grew louder. Now that he paid attention, he realized there wasn’t anger in that voice, and it was especially familiar. He turned his head to the tent entrance, which had been zipped closed to keep the sand out. Yes, someone was calling for him. With a sigh, he abandoned his precious relics.

The flaps zipped open just as he reached them. “Cruelles!” A large white unicorn with a chestnut-brown mane burst through, nearly slamming into the archeologist. She jerked to a stop, rearing her head back and whinnying at the near collision.

Caballeron barely reacted beyond a dull stare, taking in her hard features and pink eyes. “What is it, Silty?”

She caught her breath in one instant and was grinning with the next. “We found something.”

One raised eyebrow later, Caballeron gestured his head to the artifacts resting on the counter behind him.

Silt Eyes waved a dismissive hoof. “Forget that. Forget all of it! This is big.”

Caballeron didn’t move a single leg muscle. “You’ve said that before, Silty. Remember two years ago when you insisted to me and Dr. Seco we’d discovered a legitimate Felid burial site?”

“This is different, I swear!” She sat back and clapped her hooves together, expression imploring. “Please, just come take a look! The worst that’ll happen is you saying ‘I told you so.’ ”

“And your reputation falling further than it already has.” At her pained expression, Caballeron sighed. “Look, Silty, I’m sorry. That might have been harsh, but there’s a reason you haven’t risen above the apprentice level.”

Silty’s ears folded back, but she didn’t break eye contact. “I know I’m on thin ice with the Academy. I know that. And I’m really grateful that you were willing to bring me along on this expedition. It means more to me than you know. But Cruelles, I swear, Celestia’s name, you need to see this.”

Cablleron, his face stoic, studied his friend’s pleading expression. It was so strange, seeing those big eyes on that hard face. The poor thing could hardly be called physically appealing with those pointed features, but even she knew how to be cute when the situation called for it.

And he was hardly made of stone. With a sigh, he nodded, to which the pony squealed in delight. She bolted out of the tent; he followed at a steady trot.

The bright sun nearly blinded Caballeron as he stepped outside, a problem readily remedied by the placement of a pith helmet atop his short-cut mane. Everypony agreed that he looked terrible in the things, but they had their uses. The blistering heat, on the other hoof, wasn’t so easy to escape.

The camp consisted of a dozen large tents and a similar number of covered wagons. Most of the team he’d recruited were out at the five dig sites, although a pair of earth ponies and one minotaur were still present and going over the supplies. Deciding what to cook the team for dinner, no doubt. The camp rested at the foot of a squat sandstone rock formation composed entirely of vertical cliffs. The only landmark in sight on the endlessly flat horizon, the formation was inaccessible to all save griffons and pegasi, who claimed the roof of the thing was as flat as the surroundings.

The Dingo’s Overlook. One of the few notable landmarks of the Badlands, and a perfect place for a campsite, if only because it provided plenty of shade at the right time of day. Alas, in this camp the ‘right time of day’ meant the afternoon, and it was still morning.

They trudged out of the camp and turned west, their hooves crunching in the red desert pavement and kicking up dust. The gritty sands left stains on Silty’s typically pristine white coat, giving her the appearce of having a faint red underside. Once they were well away from the camp, Caballeron asked, “How many have you told about this?”

Silty rolled her eyes. “What, did you think I circled the entire overlook in this heat just to blab to all the other dig sites?”

He gave her a wry smirk. “Knowing you? Maybe.”

With puffed cheeks, she lowered her head and glared forward. “That hurts.” Then she shook her head forcefully and began to prance. “And you’ll be apologizing for it in a few minutes! Now stop crawling along like a snail and let’s go!”

She burst into a gallop, not bothering to check if he’d done the same. Caballeron held his breath until the dust and sand settled, then increased his pace to a canter. He didn’t like the idea of moving so quickly in this heat, but he guessed that the sooner he disproved whatever Silty thought she’d found the sooner he could get back to his real work.

Then again, the pottery pieces weren’t going anywhere. Maybe he should go ahead and walk the circuit of the Overlook. It would take him half the day to check in on each of the digs, longer if they found anything new, but it wasn’t like he’d be wasting his time.

It took another half-hour to reach the first dig. It was situated several hundred yards from the base of the overlook, making it much more out in the open than the others. This one was also rather unique in that it was set next to a deep impression in the otherwise flat desert landscape. Lake Dingo, although it hadn’t possessed any water in at least fifteen hundred years by most archeologists’ estimates.

It was also one of the smaller digs, possessing only a half-dozen earth ponies, two diamond dogs and lone unicorn – which would be Silty. Most were gathered around something, although what was beyond Caballeron’s view. Not a soul noticed as he approached, their heads all downturned at the same thing. Murmuring apologies, Caballeron pushed his way through until reaching the front of the crowd. What he saw made his jaw drop.

Silty and the two diamond dogs were in a depression that had been dug some nine or ten feet deep. The dogs were using their soft paws to carefully brush away sand from something long and flat. Silty had her dimly glowing horn pressed to the top of the object, her eyes closed as the quiet chime of her magic filled the dry air.

Carefully, Caballeron climbed into the hole. He then stood, transfixed, at the sight before him. He could tell from just a glance that the object couldn’t be natural; not only was the shape too straight, he was reasonably certain that perfect edge had been crafted. A thousand ideas and hopes flashed across his mind, each more breathtaking than the last. He tried speaking, but his mouth was as dry as the sandstone surrounding them.

He tried to calm himself, even as his heart battered his chest. It was a fluke, an abandoned beam from some ancient building. It wouldn’t be a building unto itself. To think it might be part of, say, a neighborhood? Impossible. Expeditions had been digging around the Lookout for five decades, surely they’d have found something that big by now. There was no way it would be…

“Cruelles?”

He broke from his thoughts, looking up from the find. Silty’s pink eyes met his, filled with amusement and confidence. “What did I tell you? It runs deep.”

He worked his lips, closed them, swallowed. “H-how… How deep?”

Her smile grew. “I can’t tell.”

“Y-you can’t—” His eyes darted from her to the stonework and back. “How deep can you detect?”

“No very,” she admitted. “Five feet, tops.”

“Five feet. It goes down five…” His hind legs collapsed, his vision swam. “Five feet. It’s… It’s…”

She caught him by the shoulders, steadying him even as she said “It goes back beyond my range, too.”

“B-b-back?” Caballeron thought his heart had stopped.

Silt grinned and nodded. “It’s a structure, Cruelles.”

He gaped at her, the concept slowly sinking in. Gradually, he turned his head to look at the long line of stonework. The diamond dogs had stopped their careful cleaning and were offering toothy grins he barely noticed. All his estimations, predictions, planning, the fights for funding…

“I… I w-want the other digs scrapped,” he whispered. “This… This is… I…”

Silty patted his mane, then turned to snap orders at the earth ponies still watching the scene. Caballeron nearly collapsed in the absence of her care, but she steadied him before that could happen. All he could think of was a dream from his foalhood, a dream promising greatness and achievement and fame. And here, right now, he may be seeing his very first glimpse of—

“Cruelles?” Silty held his face, her eyes abruptly worried. “Hey, buddy! You alright?”

Tears flowed. A sob broke through Caballeron’s throat. He clung to her, burying his face in her dusty mane and shaking all over. The larger pony patted his shoulder and whispered into his ear, but he hardly heard her.

All he could do was whisper the same words over and over: “It might be. It might be. It might be…”










March 9, C.Y. 987  
The Badlands


It was. By this point he had no doubt.

Caballeron sat at the edge of the pit, gazing down at his expedition’s discovery. With all of the dig team converged at the site, they’d managed to uncover a façade that so far ran forty feet in either direction with no end detectable by Silty’s horn, confirmed by the other unicorns. The steadily-uncovered ceiling stretched back another eighty feet and grew wider by the minute, its surface much easier to uncover. It consisted of little more than a flat roof of red sandstone, but already there were signs of ancient Jackal construction techniques. The visible mortar type they’d sampled had all the physical characteristics, but it was the circular columns that stopped smoothly at the rooftop that turned theory into fact.

Push-through support columns. Only the jackals and the coyotes used that design, and they were very far from established coyote lands. The very thought gave him goosebumps in spite of the heat-induced sweat rolling down his shoulders.

“Oi, Cruelles.” Silty looked up at him from the shade of the pit wall, sweat and grit marring her pearly coat. “You gonna laze up there all day? I’m gonna start calling you Blister.”

“Hey!” One of the earth ponies shouted amidst hearty chuckles all around, “I don’t go making fun of your name.”

“Excuse me,” Caballeron replied haughtily, “but you were having so much fun playing in the dirt that you missed me pulling the last of the camp’s wagons over here. Those things aren’t light, you know.” None of the others seemed interested in mentioning that he’d finished doing so nearly an hour ago, probably because he paid their wages.

Silty flicked her mane and turned away from him. “Oh, well, since playing in the dirt is too uncouth for you, I guess I’ll have a look at what’s behind this door we found by myself.”

“What!?”

In his hurry, Caballeron tipped over the side and dropped the whole ten feet, landing with an oomph on his belly. Pain shot through his body and he groaned. Dazed and out of breath, he decided not to bother picking himself up just yet.

Red-stained fetlocks appeared in his vision. “Geez. You alright?”

Despite the aching of his entire body, he managed a feeble, “Yeah.” He tried standing, but his hooves could find no purchase. “Just… give me a minute.”

“You’ve got five,” Silty said, her tone amused. “Then I’m going in without you.”

He watched her hooves walking away and raised one of his legs after her. “Can’t I get a little sympathy?”

“Nope.”

He sniffed, only to cough at the red sand he’d inadvertently churned up. Then he recalled exactly why he’d fallen in the first place and promptly forced his legs to hold his weight. Though he limped, his head was swirling with so many hopes and possibilities that he hardly noticed.

Three diamond dogs were digging furiously into the compacted dirt, which formed an ever-growing pile behind them that a team of a dozen earth ponies couldn’t clear fast enough. Silty supervised the work even as her magic blew a gentle wind on the stone face being uncovered. Sure enough, Caballeron could make out what appeared to be a doorframe through the airborn sands.

His legs folded to his chest, and his grin failed to contain a quiet, excited “Hohohoho…”

Silty glanced back and, with a smirk, patted him on the head. “Keep your sheath on, pal.”

“Are you kidding?” He shook her by the shoulders, not taking his eyes off the doorway. “And to think, just the other day I was excited because the pottery was genuine! Have you any idea what this means for our careers?”

“You’ve only reminded me a thousand times in the last two days.” She pried his hooves from herself and refocused on her work, carefully blowing the last remnants of sand from the exposed entrance. “I thought doctors were supposed to be calm and controlled.”

“I haven’t got my doctorate yet,” he replied, barely able to keep his hooves from dancing. “I’m allowed to be as excited as I want until then.”

The rest of the team gathered around the site. Silty noticed and stepped back from the dirt and sand still being kicked up by the diamond dogs. “This is it, everyone. History in the making. And we all get to be a part of it!” The team cheered. More than a few members slapped Caballeron on the back, and he was so intensely focused on the door he almost fell from the impacts.

At last, enough of the centuries-old sand had been removed that the entire doorway was visible. It appeared to be made of a single stone, and the door itself was a simple rectangle cut into the masonry. Though faded, a set of ancient Jackal hieroglyphs were still visible. Caballeron hurried to the door, rearing onto his hind legs to get a better look.

The crowd grew quiet as he studied them, piecing together what little was known about the dead language in his mind. If he could just find the right combination of familiar words…

“Well?” Silty asked from beside him. “Can you read it?”

A lone word stood out. Then another. Caballeron detected five words in total. He managed to decipher three. The last had a few unfamiliar characters, but he recognized its purpose. He dropped to all fours, mind reeling at the implications. “It… It’s a…”

Silty placed a heavy hoof on his shoulder. “Cruelles?”

He stared at her with wide eyes. “It’s a home.”

“Home?” She cocked her head, looked at the words, then back to him. “What do you mean?”

“Home,” he repeated. “Household. Residency. It’s someone’s house.”

Silty narrowed her eyes and furrowed her brow. “A house. Of all the things, I didn’t expect—” Her eyes bugged out and her breath caught. “B-but if this is somepony’s house, then that means…”

Caballeron nodded, the words coming without any thought. “Either it’s some hermit, or we’ve got a… a…”

“A community!” Silty fell to her haunches. “Oh, sweet, merciful Celestia. This could be the find of the century. No, the millennium.”

He turned to the door, heart pattering and mouth dry. “Open it.”

The door proved troublesome, for a thousand years of pressure had ruined its original mechanisms. It took Silty and three other unicorns together to force the stone slab to slide into the recess it was meant for. Dry air escaped in a rush of wind when the thing finally budged. Caballeron was, of course, the first to enter.

Within the first minute, he’d been rendered speechless. Then he spent four hours talking nonstop, bouncing from dry room to dry room, feeling as if he were a colt reading adventure stories all over again. Silty babbled right alongside him, and the two could often be found bouncing in place as they came upon some new discovery.

Not that the house was big. All in all, it was only four rooms, although there was a fifth with a closed door they couldn’t budge. The rooms consisted of a living area, a bedroom, a hallway and a kitchen… and they were furnished. Benches, tables, chairs, dishes, even the remains of a bed! And those were just the most obvious things. Every moment was a new discovery, every revelation a fresh excitement. Caballeron was so enraptured he actually kissed Silty, who took the act with only a hint of a blush.

The sun went down and lanterns were brought in. Eventually, the team exhausted their thorough search of the place… except for the lone door. Against his better judgement, Caballeron gave the diamond dogs permission to break through. They had to rig up a makeshift battering ram using some spare wagon parts, but it did the job.

He stepped inside before the dust even settled, holding a lantern in his teeth. The room was small, perhaps a closet. It didn’t take long for him to take stock of its contents, and when he did he became as still as stone.

“Cruelles?” Silty pushed at his flank, jostling for a view. “Come on, what’s in there? Cruelles!”

Tablets. Row upon row, stack upon stack. Stone tablets covered in words. Slowly, Caballeron stepped fully inside. He set his lantern down on the ground just before his wobbling knees failed him. So many tablets, so much writing…

“Cruelles? Are you… Oh. Oh my Goddess.”

Caballeron had no words. He only sobbed.










March 10, C.Y. 987 
The Badlands


Eighty-seven tablets. After studying only five, Caballeron had discovered eight previously unknown characters. Now he sat in the cooled tent of the MagEM, unable to do anything but stare at the pile of boxes, each containing four or five of the discovered tablets. Even now, after the fact had settled in, the sight almost brought a tear to his eye.

Silty stood at his side, gazing along with him. “The supply convoy arrives in two days.”

“M-hmm.”

“You gonna go back to Estéril Pezuñas?”

“No.”

She glanced at him, but only for a moment. “I understand. But one of us has to go back soon. We need to secure funds to expand the expedition.”

He nodded. “I’m aware. I just… I don’t want to leave so soon. I can go on next week’s convoy.”

She didn’t look to him, but the doubt laced her tone well enough. “You’re not going to keep saying that week after week, are you?”

Considering her words, he could easily see the dangerous truth in them. “You could always go yourself.”

“Me?” Now Silty really did look at him. “I can’t. This was your expedition, and we wouldn’t have even dug there if it hadn’t been for your interpretations of the Rock of Howlia and instincts. If I go, they’ll think I did it.”

He shook his head. “I can’t leave. There’s so much potential here! What if something new is discovered? What if there are even more—”

A white hoof pressed against his lips. “You’re cute when you’re gushing, but right now we have to think practical.” Silty waved a hoof over the boxes as if to display trophies. “We’ve got more than enough now. We need funding. We need to have the site claimed as ours on a more permanent basis. We need you to go back.”

Caballeron wanted to speak, but her hoof didn’t leave his lips. He stared into her commanding pink eyes, eyes that dared him to argue. The temptation was so strong, and he knew he would win. This was his expedition, his dig team, and his site. He could give whatever order he wanted, a fact that delighted the little devil inside him.

But all of his desires were weighed down by one simple fact: she was right.

Silty must have seen the acceptance in his eyes, for she finally nodded and lowered her hoof. “Don’t worry. The site will still be here when you get back.”

He sagged so low his muzzle nearly touched the ground, but it came back up just as swiftly. “Well, I can always bring a bunch of these with me! I can work on translations on the road.”

“That’s the spirit.” She nudged him with her shoulder, nearly knocking him over. She laughed at his scowl. “You’re awful weak for an earth pony, you know that?”

But then she sobered. She gazed at the boxes solemnly, and her serious manner had him biting down his intended retort. For a time, they only stared at the collection they’d gathered. Caballeron wondered what she was thinking. He wondered how his doubting colleagues back at the academy would react to his find. He wondered about his bright future and what mysteries he might uncover about Jackal culture.

Mostly, he wondered about Silty, and why she’d grown so quiet.

“Hey… Caballeron?”

He raised an inquisitive eyebrow, but she still refused to look at him. “What’s on your mind, big girl?”

Silty chewed her lip. She remained curiously still. At last, she spoke. “Thank you. Thank you for bringing me. For trusting me. For letting me be part of this.”

With a smile, he replied, “You’re welcome. Your career’s looking bright, Silt Eyes.”

“Forget my career.” She finally looked at him. “I’m not going to be… I mean, I’m nothing compared to you. That’s not why I’m grateful.”

She turned to the boxes once more. “You believed in me. They were encouraging me to quit, but you… You gave me a chance. One more chance. It was all I wanted. I never intended to discover anything big, I just wanted to be useful to somepony. And now I…”

Her hoof came up. She studied it. It began to shake. “Do you know what it’s like to be a nopony? To be nothing like your parents envisioned? To be so different from everything everypony expected of you? I… I got into archeology on a hunch, because I couldn’t think of anything. And we both know that’s not where my talent—”

“Stop.” Caballeron pushed her hoof down, and she gazed into his eyes. “Just stop. You know I can’t stand it when you get like this.” He placed a hoof on her shoulder and brought out his warmest smile. “This is as much your discovery as it is anypony’s. This is ours, Silt. I couldn’t have pulled this off without you.”

She grunted and tried turning away, but he blocked the movement with a hoof to her cheek. Even so, she scowled. “You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

He smirked. “Am I going to have to start singing about how inspiring you are? Because I will.”

“Goddess, no!” She bounced away, waving her hooves at him. “No singing. What you do is not singing!”

Grinning all the while, Caballeron threw back his head and inhaled deeply.

Silty tackled him to the ground. Both her hooves were pressed against his lips as she held his gaze with wild eyes. “No, no, no, no, no. I am not letting you subject me to this torture!”

Caballeron raised his eyesbrows and pushed his tongue out from between his teeth, licking her hoof. Grit got on his tongue, but the scrunched up expression of disgust on her face made it worth it. She jumped back once again, waving her hooves frantically. “Ew, ew, ew! You know I always hated when you did that to me as a kid!”

“Yeah, sure. You like it.”

“Cruelles!” She sobered quickly, staring at him as if seeing him for the first time. Then she cracked a smile. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.”

He let his head fall back and stared at the top of the tent. The two of them remained silent for some time, as if an unspoken truce had come between them. Caballeron couldn’t stop smiling, his thoughts playing out the long, tiring journey taken. Endless nights without sleep, pouring over half-translated documents and explorers’ notes, followed by long days in classrooms, both as student and teacher. Endless theories, a half-dozen misfires, a couple minor successes. All leading to this. And all along…

“Don’t downplay your part, Silt,” he whispered. “You were there. The whole time, you were there. How could I not put my faith in you?”

He sat up slowly and admired the collection they’d gathered in such a short time. And to think, there could be more. “I’m leaving you in charge of the expedition while I’m gone.”

“Me?” Silty frowned once more. “Are you sure? Stonework has more experience. Gloobokoye is more respected.”

“It’s my expedition,” he replied. “I’ll pick who I want.”

She fidgeted, not taking her eyes off of him. “They’ll accuse you of favoritism.”

“And they’ll be right.” He flashed her another grin. “But you can handle it. You’re more of a leader than you know. I’ve never been much of one. These creatures follow my orders because I pay the bits, no more.”

With a sigh, Silty nodded. “Alright, but I don’t like it. It’s going to be hard to deal with them when they’re pissed.”

“Hmm…” Caballeron rubbed his chin as he considered the situation. “I’ll talk to Stonework and Gloobokoye. They’re aware of your reputation. I’m sure I can convince them to be more accepting of the decision.”

“I’d appreciate that.” She yawned and stood, stretching as she did. “It’s been a long couple of days. I’m hitting the hay, and I suggest you do too. No staying up until dawn ogling those tablets like a schoolcolt at a filly’s hindquarters, you got me?”

He snorted. “I look at those now.”

“I’m serious, perv. Get some sleep.”

He heaved a sigh and turned away from his treasures. “Fine, but I retain the right to ogle as much as I want tomorrow.”
> Book V – Cruelles Caballeron: Blows
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------




I find myself thinking about you more and more. Silty. The Marble Statue. My statue. You were so mad when I first called you that. Thought I was trying to make you a ‘trophy.’

I’ve been with a lot of mares, Silty. I’ve got Fleur here, teasing me with that indescribable body of hers. Cold as ice, though. Won’t give me the time of day. Probably for the better; tapping that could get me a one-way trip to Tartarus. And you know, lately I’m not so interested. Not just in her, but in mares in general. They’ve been a serious pain in the ass for me lately, but it’s not even that. I’ve been with dozens of mares; beautiful, young, old, fillies just starting to learn what their cunts are for.

None of them were you. Looking back, I feel like I was just… looking. For something that doesn’t exist anymore. Funny thing, the act of looking. It’s what I do, isn’t it? Looking for treasures, looking for tail, looking for revenge, looking for meaning. I was never satisfied, because I didn’t know what it was that would satisfy me. I still don’t.

Damn it, I’m rambling. This is a waste of my time. You’re probably insulted, anyway. Can’t blame you. I turned into a real shit after you left.

—Cruelles Caballeron, Book of Shadows XLVIII,

December 20, 1002

Excerpt from personal diaries, translated from Palabras del Sur, June 16, 1007












March 1, C.Y. 989 
Estéril Pezuñas


Caballeron knocked on the door to the Acquisitions Office, wincing at the loud sound. He glanced around; nopony was watching. Okay, maybe it hadn’t been that loud. The corners of his lips tried to rise up, but he fought them down and remained stoic. Professional. Calm. This had to be done the right way.

The door opened, revealing a short, stubby yellow stallion with a brown mane. His scowl softened upon seeing Caballeron. The Dean of Acquisitions spoke first. “Ah, Cruelles. I take it the meeting with the Board went well?”

Twitch. Stay down, lips. “Very well. I’ve come to… put in some requests.”

Without cracking so much as a smile, the stallion replied, “I think the word you mean is ‘celebrate.’ Well, come on, she’s in her office. Just try not to get her too excited this time.”

“No promises.” Caballeron followed him inside, at last having mercy on his own lips with a smirk. “In fact, you may want to clear a path.”

The older stallion groaned and nodded, already walking away. They’d entered a room roughly the size of a regular classroom. Filing cabinets formed neat rows that reached all the way up to the ceiling, making the place feel much smaller than it really was. How Silty could stand to work in these claustrophobic conditions, Caballeron hadn’t a clue.

The path had become so familiar to him he could have walked it with his eyes closed. His smile grew more and more as he weaved through the equivalent of hallways. Within seconds, he’d stopped at a simple door. He paused to return his face to that same stoicness as before, the effort almost painful. One slow breath. Two. On the third, he knocked.

“Come in.”

He pushed through the door. The office was small, though a bit larger than what most of the professors at the school warranted. Priceless artifacts, most of them coming from the Jackal civilization, decorated the walls like aged trophies. There were a few others – the hilt of a Caribou sword here, the shards of ancient Equestrian pottery there – but none with a knowledge for archeology could doubt where Silty’s interests lay.

Squeezed behind a desk covered in towers of forms sat Silty, her horn dimly lit as three different pages hovered before her face. Without looking up, she asked, “Alright, CC, what’s the damage?”

Stay down, lips, stay down! “You always know it’s me. How do you do that?”

“You have a way of walking,” she replied, tone distracted. “I can hear you coming from clear across the school.”

He stood before her, eyeing the paper towers, some of which were taller than he was. “If these fall over while I’m here, I’m not gonna help you clean up the mess. Again.”

She rolled her eyes and set the forms down, levitating a quill to scribble on one of them. A quick glance told him the note was for rejection. “They aren’t going to fall,” she countered. “Again.”

Still as stone, Cabby. Still as stone. “They might. You tend to get excited about things.”

She waved a dismissive hoof, somehow managing not to hit one of the miniature skyscrapers. “Unless you’re here to tell me that you’ve been approved to expand the Overlook Dig again, I don’t see me getting too excited. So how long did they say they were going to make you wait this time?”

He sighed, doing his best to keep it from seeming exaggerated. “Ah, you know how the Directors are. One minute they’re making nice promises, the next they’re ripping the rug out from under you.” He pulled out the letter in his coat pocket with his teeth. His blood pounded, his legs wanted to do a little dance. He paused as he felt the extra weight in his coat pocket shift. Maybe…

No, wrong timing. He turned back to her and let her take the letter from his mouth. He then sat… and braced.

Silty deftly slipped the letter between the paper towers. Caballeron bit his lip as she gave him one last glance before opening the envelope, pulling out its contents and reading.

A second passed.

Two.

Silty’s eyebrows would have impacted the ceiling had they not been attached to her face. She let out a pitched squeal and bounced. One of her legs bumped the desk; towers rocked, tilted… and remained in place.

Then they shattered into a billion pages as she dove over the desk to engulf him in a tight hug. “Three more years! Three more years, Cabby!”

Oh, look, he was grinning. He gave up the fight and held her tight, laughing as a page settled on his muzzle. “Celestia increased educational funding this year, and the school won a special fund specifically because of the Overlook dig. We’re free to expand… heck, as far as we can! We’ll get to the edge of the town before we run out of funds.”

“That’s wonderful! Oh, Cabby, I’m so happy for you!” She kissed him right on the lips, and he returned it eagerly.

They parted shortly, Silty pronking and giggling like a school filly. “Oh, this is so exciting! Who knows what you’ll uncover? There’s no telling how far out the town goes. You’d better remember to leave some choice artifacts for me to add to my collection.”

He raised an eyebrow and smirked. “What, you expect me to do all the work? Why should I find them all?”

Her bouncing ceased and she blew a floating form away from her eyes. “Yeah, because the workers like watching you sit on the sidelines sipping martinis. And we both know I’m not going back.”

He set a hoof to her shoulder, firmly, and met her gaze. “Says who?”

Silty glanced at his hoof, brow furrowed. “Uh, the guys who write our checks? I’m in Acquisitions now, you know that.”

“But you don’t have to be.” He grinned as her eyebrows rose once more. “I spoke to Ledger before heading here. I had to make a couple promises, but if you want back out in the field, we can do it.”

The air left her, blowing the paper from his muzzle. “Y-you’re serious? I can be an archeologist again?”

“Yes, and let’s be clear.” He pecked her on the lips. “I want you with me. This is our dig, Silty, and you—”

She launched into him, squealing and holding him tight even as they collapsed onto the floor. More papers flew about as she gave him a firmer kiss than before, with a little tongue to boot. “Yes, yes, yes! I love you, you hunky stallion!”

Back on her hooves an instant later, she began bouncing in small circles. “Th-there’s so much to do! I need to write my mother, my collection needs to be secured, the house too, and and and—” She laughed wildly and leapt for the door. “You’re the best coltfriend ever, Cabby! I’ve gotta get started!”

“We’ve got time,” he called after her, only halfway off the floor. “Shouldn’t you clean this mess up?”

“Screw the mess, I’m not in Acquisitions anymore.” She disappeared out the door at full gallop, shouting at the top of her lungs. “I’m an archeologist!”

He sat in the middle of her room, which now looked as if a hurricane had passed through. He chuckled, then frowned. With a sigh, he reached into his pouch once more and pulled out a small case. It opened to reveal a shimmering silver necklace. “Darn it, Silty, if you’d just held back a little.” After a moment’s consideration, however, he gained a soft smile. “But y’know, I bet she’d find the dig itself more romantic. Plan B, then.”

Putting the necklace away, he stood, stretched, and trotted for the door. His progress came to a halt at the threshold when the Dean of Acquisitions appeared and pressed a hoof to his chest. He smirked at Caballeron. In unison, the two glanced back into Silty’s office. Forms were literally everywhere, some still fluttering about like so much debris. Caballeron looked to the stallion, then back to the mess, then back to the stallion. He caught the look in the Director's eyes.

With a groan, he turned back for the office. “Damn it, Silty…” He wasted no time getting to work. He hoped he could simply get things looking neat and leave the sorting for some intern to do, because he had far more important things on his mind. Then again…

He paused to glance at the door. The Dean was nowhere to be seen. A small smirk lit his lips; perhaps he could find a few of his team’s official requests. Would anypony notice if the stamp of approval… ‘dropped’ onto them during Silty’s excitement? She wouldn’t approve, of course, but as she said: she wasn’t in Acquisitions anymore. The little devil inside him gleefully rubbed its hooves.

Ah, but then again, there was the matter of the wrong people catching wind and tracing things back to her. Caballeron wilted, his little scheme vanishing in a puff of smoke. It was one thing to play the system a little, it was another when somepony else took the fall for his actions. Especially Silty. If there was any pony he never wanted to hurt, it was her. And so, grumbling about his accursed loyalty, he set to work doing the job the right way.

He didn’t get very far before the commotion started. Somepony called his name from beyond the doorway. He poked his head out, but couldn’t see for all the filing cabinets. Whoever it as, she sounded scared. Perhaps a student in one of his classes freaking over an essay? It wouldn’t be the first time. He’d be glad when he could go out to the field and not worry about such mundane problems.

As he stepped out into the main office, a mare appeared at the end of one of the rows. He took in her features as she bounded towards him; definitely a student, but from a class… last year? Why would she be coming at him like this?

She slid to a stop in front of him, gasping for breath. “P-professor, I came as fast as I—”

He raised a hoof. “Calm down. Whatever it is, I’m sure it doesn’t warrant this kind of—”

The student slapped his hoof down and shook her head frantically. “There’s been an accident! Miss Eyes is… She’s…”

Caballeron’s blood ran cold. “Where?”

“B-by the school post office. It was—”

He shoved the mare aside and ran. Ponies tried to call out to him as he barreled through the halls, but their voices were drowned out by the incessant pounding in his ears. She’s fine, just fine. The student was scared, that’s all. Silty will laugh it off and poke fun at the poor thing. Nothing gets the big girl down. Nothing. She’s fine. The thoughts repeated over and over, struggling to block out all doubt. The girl overreacted. Surely.

But if she hadn’t? He put on the speed, sliding across the wooden floor at a corner and slamming into the wall. Paying no mind to the pain in his shoulder, he galloped to the double doors leading outside.

It wasn’t hard to figure out where to go; a crowd had gathered near the front of the school’s post office. Over the heads of ponies rose a carriage on its side, one of the wheels still spinning on its lopsided axis. He rushed into the crowd, shoving ponies aside without apology. “Silty? Out of my way. Silty!” He strained his ears to hear her over the chattering crowd, but earned no answer. “Move it, curse you!”

She’s okay she’s okay she’s okay…

He burst through the crowd, nearly falling on his face from the effort. He looked up, and all hope left him. Silty lay on her side… partly. A pony’s body wasn’t supposed to twist like that. Her upper body was on its back, her legs unmoving, her eyes gazing at the sky. Two ponies knelt at her side, but he neither heard their words or recognized their faces. Even as he came to realize what he was seeing, her eyes began rolling back into their sockets and her chest spasmed.

“No you don’t!” Caballeron shoved one of the ponies aside and nuzzled her cheek. “You don’t get to do that. Come on, Silty, hold on. You haven’t become famous yet. You can’t go until you do, you hear me?”

Her only response was to gasp through her wide open mouth. Her face had already turned a deep shade of blue.

“No, stop that!” He held her face. “Don’t you dare!” He looked to the pony opposite him. “What are you doing? Help her!”

The pony only looked away.

“I… you… Somepony help her!” He looked at the crowd, but not a pony stepped forward. Cursing, he looked down to find her gasps weakening. “No, nononono, come on, big girl. Breathe!”

That was when she stopped moving entirely. His mind froze as he took in her blue face, her wide, motionless lips, her rolled back eyes. Time, it seemed, had stopped. That could be the only explanation. Soon it would kick back in and she’d be gasping for air once more. He just had to wait. Any second now.

Any second.

Any…

“S-Silty?”

Silence hung in the air like dead weight, pulling down on his withers like an anchor. His eyes burned. Something began to bubble up, something primal and unpleasant and loathsome. Something Caballeron wanted absolutely nothing to do with. If he could avoid nothing else in the world, he would avoid that.

So he did the next worst thing, and the devil within him sharpened its horns.

Caballeron jumped to his hooves as he bellowed. “Who did this?!”

He whipped around to glare at the crowd, who all retreated from his snarl. He snorted steam, body low and one hoof scraping the cobblstones. “Don’t just stare at me, talk!” When nopony answered, he leapt forward to grab the closest pony he could, a wide-eyed student. Lifting the gasping pegasus off the ground, he shook the pony and shouted in her face. “Where is he? Who did it? Tell me!”

“Cruelles! Let her go!”

The mare fled back into the crowd the instant he dropped her. Caballeron spun around to find the school’s head doctor gaping at him. “Pulso! Where were you?! You bucking useless piece of trash, do you know what I’m gonna do to you?”

Pulso looked to Silty’s still body, his ears lowered and his shoulders slumping. “Oh... Cruelles, I am so—”

“Don’t you fucking dare!” He launched, but didn’t get more than a couple steps before strong legs grasped him from three directions. He pushed and kicked and shoved, never taking his eyes off the forlorn face of the doctor. “You should have been here! You could have saved her! Don’t you pretend to be sorry, you shitfaced crackpot! I’ll kill you, do you hear me? I’m gonna—”

Something hard cracked against the back of Caballeron’s skull. The impact rocked him forward and the pain was incredible… but not enough. With a roar that made everypony nearby back away, he turned and heabutted one of his captors in the muzzle. The mare cried out and lost her grip, which was all it took for him to jerk his foreleg free and deliver a powerful punch in the gut of the pony on his opposite side. The stallion’s eyes boggled as the air left him, and with another shake Caballeron had freed his other foreleg.

That left the pony holding his hindquarters. He began bucking wildly, snarling and growling, but the pony held on tight. He tried circling, jumping, twisting and kicking, but no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t get free. Before he knew it, burly ponies in brown officer uniforms were tackling him. He bit and bucked and bellowed, but finally somepony managed to deliver another blow to his head, and everything went black.










May 12, C.Y. 989 
Estéril Pezuñas


The study was dark, the curtains closed and the candles unlit. Caballeron leaned on his desk, head pressed against his forehooves. His eyes were locked on the silver necklace between his elbows. Even in the dark, it gleamed. He said nothing, shed no tears, paid no mind to his rumbling stomach.

He just stared. Stared and ruminated on once was’s and might have been’s.

His ears perked to a loud knock from his front door. He didn’t move. They would go away in time. He didn’t want to answer. Did want to do anything. It wasn’t as if doing something would make things better.

And yet the knocking continued. Whoever was at his door, they were persistent. Finally, he realized that his ‘guest’ had no respect for his brooding. Grumbling under his breath, he closed the necklace case and set it lovingly on a shelf before descending down the stairs of his townhouse. A glance at a mirror in the hall revealed a very different stallion from what he was accustomed to; mane a mess, eyes bloodshot, body gaunt and a few days of stubble on his chin. A long lost part of him considered cleaning up, but he thought better of it; perhaps his wretched countenance would scare the annoying visitor away first thing.

He flung the door open to find…a filly? He squinted against the bright sunlight – what was it, noon? Later? – as he tried to make sense of the small shape before him.

The pony’s hoof had been raised in preparation for another knock. It lowered slowly, and a young but scratchy voice spoke. “Mr. Caballeron?” She had a faint Equestrian accent, but otherwise spoke Palabras del Sur quite well.

He grumbled out a rough “What do you want?” that she might have been able to comprehend.

“I-I’m your new assistant. For the… dig?”

Assistant?

Comprehension struck him like a hammer: this was supposed to be Silty’s replacement. In an instant of bitter venom, he strongly considered slamming the door in her face. He flung the devil within aside, however, harshly reminding himself that he couldn’t hold this pony at fault for… anything, really. Except disturbing his mourning. But if she’d come here to bug him with such determination, she’d probably been ordered to by somepony at the school. As much as he wanted to tell her to go away, he guessed it wouldn’t be fair to put her in that position.

With his mind made up, he rubbed his eyes one last time and, with his vision finally cleared, got his first good look at her. For a moment, he thought his eyes deceived; this pony was so young she could hardly be called a mare. A pegasus with a typically light build, she sported a golden coloration and a mane that was… grey? Shades of grey. What would one call that? Bah, he wasn’t an expert in colors. She stared up at him with anxious, rose-colored eyes framed by a pair of red glasses.

He stared at her, momentarily at a loss for words. At last he blurted out, “How old are you?”

She straightened up with a little gasp and a smile. “Just turned fifteen, sir.”

“Fifteen?” He took in her youthful appearance, jaw working slowly. “They expect a fifteen year old to be able to lead a dig site?”

Her expression dropped. “I-I’ve worked digs before. A half dozen! I brought my career history, h-here, I’ll show you.”

He stopped her from reaching into her saddlebags with a hoof to the shoulder. She met his eyes even as she chewed her lip.

“What’s your name, filly?”

She hesitated. “A.K. Yearling.”

His eyebrows shot up. “That A.K. Yearling? Of the Unitopia Watch site?”

“Yeah!” Her wings burst open and a grin shot to her lips. “You’ve heard of it? That was an amazing find! I still can’t believe the sheer number of ancient unicorn tribe artifacts we found. Old Miss Igneous refused to believe me when I told her we should be looking on top of Callyhoof Mountain three miles west of the dig, so I had to go there myself and bring back a dagger, and even then she thought I was lying so I went again and brought back an onyx necklace, and at that point she demanded I show her the site because she still thought I was snatching them from somewhere around the dig instead but you should have seen the way her eyes popped out of her head when we landed right in the ruins of the guard tower but you couldn’t tell it was a guard tower at the time because it was still mostly buried even so she knew right away that I’d—”

He silenced her rambling with a hoof to her lips. Slowly, his struggling brain processed everything she’d said. It flailed about wildly in an attempt to make sense of everything he was hearing. “B-but… but that was two years ago! You mean to tell me you made your first archeological breakthrough at the age of thirteen?”

Blushing and rubbing her leg, she replied, “I-I wouldn’t say that. I mean, all I really did was retranslate the Platinum Scroll in a slightly different way. It was still Miss Igneous’s find.”

Caballeron wasn’t sure how to take this discovery. Part of him knew that this pony being chosen for his assistant was a move on the school’s part to get him to stop moping and get back to work. He recognized this for the gift that it was; a brilliant young archeologist on his team who was modest enough to not try to steal the credit from under his muzzle. He’d never imagined that the pony behind the Unitopia Watch site and the Tomb of the griffon king Shearing Feather had been so young.

And attractive. Too attractive. His lips curled in a scowl at Yearling’s shapely, muscular form. Had that factored into her being chosen as well, or just a coincidence? If they thought having a cute young mare would make him forget his big girl that quickly, they had another thing coming.

“Uh, Mr. Caballeron?”

Realizing he’d been staring, Caballeron shook himself and stepped aside. “Alright, come in and we’ll talk.” He waited for her to enter, unnerved by how she did so with a strange combination of flight and walking. He promptly dubbed the motion a ‘flitter’ and wondered if it wasn’t a sign of her lingering excitement. “Now, let’s start with—”

She released a massive gasp and darted to an object hanging from his wall. “Is that a coyote ceremonial mask? Oh, Pre-Celestial fifth century? And you found one with the ears intact!” She let out a small squeal, her eyes shining with glee and her wings popping open. “And the engravings around the eye sockets! Clearly from the Barktarian Region. Maybe it’s from around the time of the War of Pawticlus?”

Caballeron’s intended snap faded from his lips and his eyebrows reacquainted themselves with his bangs. “You can tell all that just by looking?”

She went stiff for a moment, gradually forcing her wings down, then turned to him with a fresh blush. “S-sorry. I’ve been trying to keep my excitement down. It’s just... so… awesome!” She slapped a hoof over her lips. “I m-mean, interesting. I’ll calm down now, I promise.”

Despite all his misgivings, Caballeron chuckled at her antics. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.










June 2, C.Y. 989 
The Badlands


“Boss?”

Caballeron flinched as his thoughts were interrupted. He found himself staring at one of the more recently unearthed Jackal homes, which had a small team of researchers cataloguing its possessions. Adjusting his helmet against the sun, he wondered how long he’d been sitting there.

He turned to find Yearling sitting by his side, her own pith helmet adjusted back to better see him. “Hmm?”

She glanced at the ancient house, then back to him. “Are you alright? You looked… sad.”

He sighed and brought his eyes back to the home. “I’m fine, kid. Just… thinking about Silty.”

“Oh.” She sat in silence for a while, fidgeting in place. “I’ve been trying not to ask about her.”

He grunted. “I appreciate that.”

Another moment of anxious fiddling with her clipboard. “I never got to say it, but… But I never wanted you to think I was trying to, well, replace her. I mean, in terms of the job I am, but I’m not really, not in the way that counts. Except as it counts on the job! That is to say…” He turned his gaze upon her, and she promptly looked to her hooves. “N-nevermind.”

With another weary sigh, he patted her helmet – a habit he’d developed because it always resulted in an amusingly sour look from her youthful face. He didn’t smile at her pout this time, though. “It’s alright. I get what you’re trying to say.” Turning away from the house, he looked over the vast dig site. The Overlook Dig had by now uncovered a dozen homes of various designs and was perhaps halfway through uncovering what he suspected was a marketplace. It had already been established as the single biggest find in archology since the practice had begun two centuries ago.

“Do you know what this is?” he asked her without looking her way.

She followed his gaze with a thoughtful frown. “The Overlook Dig?”

“It’s a legacy,” he corrected, voice soft. “And I want it to be Silty’s. Her name. Her find. Her glory.” He looked to the cloudy skies and offered them a feeble smile. “It’s the least I can do.”

“You really cared about her, didn’t you?”

“Yeah.” He thought back to a silver necklace still resting in its box under his pillow. “A lot.”

Yearling wasn’t Silty, but Caballeron was coming to know her enough that he knew she was watching him. He’d grown to like the filly, not least because her past findings had nothing to do with luck. She was born to do this job. He found it almost enviable.

She gave a light cough. “I hope I can do half as good a job in her place.”

He huffed a small laugh and gave her a genuine smile. Those were far less common for him nowadays. “Kid, you’re ten times the archeologist Silty ever was.”

Her eyes widened. “Wait, really? But you make her sound like she was amazing.”

“Oh, she was.” He nodded. “An amazing mare. Good friend.” He chuckled and looked back to the dig. “Lousy archeologist. She made up for it in with sheer tenacity and lots of optimism.”

“I, uh…” She tittered and fidgeted with her helmet, clearly at a loss for how to deal with this topic. He couldn’t blame her; this was the first time he’d really spoken of Silty with her.

He patted her helmet, and she rewarded him with that cute little scowl. “I’m glad you joined the team, kid.”

The scowl switched for a beaming grin so fast it was like the former had never existed. “Really?”

“Yeah. Sorry I never said it before.” He began walking through the dig, beckoning her to follow, and she flittered after him. “You’ve got a promising career ahead of you, and I’m glad to have been part of it. With your help, Silty’s dream is coming together faster than either of us ever imagined.” As they walked, he took to eyeing the other workers around the dig, making sure they were doing their jobs properly. They always did, but it never hurt to be vigilant.

“I’m just doing my job, sir.”

He chuckled at her ever-present politeness. He wondered if she knew that he sometimes overheard her more aggressive talk with the workers. It was nice to have a pony around who knew when the situation called for a firebrand. He was also aware of her grin, even without having to look. Yearling took pride in her skills, and he couldn’t fault that.

“You know,” he said after a moment of silence between the two, “when they first assigned you to be my assistant out here, I wasn’t even sure I intended to keep up the job.” He cast a glance her way and saw, with satisfaction, that he now had her full attention. “Silty’s death hit me hard. I… don’t think I’ll ever get over it.”

She tilted her head, quickly raising her hoof to keep her oversized helmet from tipping off. “So why did you come back out here?”

“You, to be blunt.” He shot her another smile and chuckled as she glanced away with a blush. “You were so full of energy, so excited to get the chance to get out here and discover. It… reminded me of her.” He sighed and paused before the entrance to the sand-coated marketplace. “The day she died, I’d just told her that she’d get to be an archeologist again. She was so thrilled, it was like she’d been reduced to a filly. I…” He closed his eyes against the liquid in his eyes. “I think it’s how I’ll always remember her.”

Another moment of silence passed between them. Yearling patted his shoulder and asked, curiously, “Was she pretty?”

He barked a laugh and rubbed his eyes. “Nope! Not at all. But she was mine, and there’ll never be another like her.” Once his eyes had cleared, he straightened his posture and took in the marketplace once more, watching as diamond dogs and ponies worked in tandem to meticulously clear out the soil and rock covering the area. “That’s why I came back. She deserves this. She may not have been the greatest archeologist, but she was here and she did her part. I want the world to remember that Silty Eyes was a key figure in the discovery of Pawtlpotl.”

He eyed the workers for a time, but mostly he basked. Basked in the success of the dig, and in the knowledge that Silty’s dream would be a reality. She might be gone… and sometimes he still cried at night. But at least he could give her what she always wanted and deserved. If he could do nothing else for her, he would do this.

“Ummm…”

Yearling’s voice had been barely audible. He turned to find her hiding her face behind her clipboard, the pith helmet leaned over her eyes. “What’s wrong?”

She glanced over her clipboard and gave the tiniest yelp. “I… Uh, well, now that you mention it… er…”

Sighing, he turned back to watch the workers. “Spit it out, kid.”

She tittered and fidgeted for a good time, and he let her. If it was important, she’d get it out eventually. After what seemed an eternity, she finally managed to ask timidly, “What if it’s… not… Pawtlpotl?”

His brow furrowed as this concept danced around his brain. After a few seconds he gave up on it as indecipherable and turned to her. “What do you mean?”

She twirled the clipboard between her hooves as her wings gave small flaps. She couldn’t meet his gaze. “I’ve been going over your translations of some of the tablets you and Silty found. I… I found some irregularities. Maybe… maybe they don’t say what you think they do?”

Was she serious? He considered the possibility carefully. The translations had been time consuming and, if he were honest, not just a little challenging. He’d been forced to make some educated guesses here and there. Could he have made a mistake?

This was still a major find in archeology. But to think that they’d not found Pawtlpotl, the legendary Jackal city? No. This was Silty’s legacy. He did his best work because her name had been attached to it. To have his theories and translations debunked would destroy all he’d worked for in her name! There was no way he’d have slipped on something this important.

He chuckled and shook his head. Yearling might be an archeological prodigy, but she was still equine. Ponies make mistakes. “I suggest you take another look. This is definitely Pawtlpotl.”

Yearling flinched. “B-but, if it isn’t, then—”

“It is.” He shot her a hard look. “I didn’t agree to let you join this dig just so you could go casting doubts around. This is Pawtlpotl, and Silty’s name will go down in the history books as its discoverer.”

The filly stepped back, her head hanging. Her helmet slipped a little further over her face and he could see her lower lip trembling.

Curse him, why’d he have to take that tone? He reached up and pushed the helmet back, looking her in the eyes. “Hey, it’s alright. It was just a little mistake.”

“But I…” She bit her lip, her eyes shifting in thought. Finally, she let her face drop again. “O-okay. I’m sorry I bothered you about it.”

“No, I’m glad you did.” And he was surprised to realize he meant it. “If you think you’ve found something, good or bad, always report it. Even if it ends up being a false alarm, the worst you can do is keep it to yourself. Alright?” He waited for her nod, then smiled and patted her helmet. “Good girl. Why don’t you go take another look at the records? Maybe you’ll find what you did wrong.”

Yearling didn’t give him her usual scowl. She just walked away, head hanging low. He watched her go, miffed by her behavior. I guess she takes failure pretty seriously.

After a moment’s consideration, he shrugged and turned back to the marketplace. He’d make it up to her later. It was time he got his hooves dirty.










July 3, C.Y. 989  
Estéril Pezuñas


Caballeron was in the Academy’s Storage and Research wing helping to put away the latest haul from the Overlook when they came. Director Colarse stomped through the hallway, backed by a quintet of armed Royal Guards. “Caballeron! I hope you’ve got a dang good explanation for this!”

Ears perked and eyes shifted onto the approaching figures, all of whom came to an abrupt stop at the sudden attention. Caballeron frowned at the Director, but his mind lit up when he saw the Guard. The brownshirts were one thing, but the Guard? What was this all about? Why would they visit the school – and wanting to see him, no less? And he’d been having such a good day.

Approaching warily, he asked, “What’s going on, Colarse?”

“What’s going on is this.” The director reached into his saddlebags and pulled out something; a familiar stone tablet.

Caballeron sucked in a sharp breath as the object was displayed to him. “What are you doing with that in your saddlebags? That is a priceless relic, you fool!”

“Is it?” Colarse pulled the tablet back before he could grab it. “Take a closer look.”

What was going on here? Caballeron studied the director’s face. His brow was furrowed, but the look in his eye was less accusing and more concerned. Curious, so he wasn’t getting blamed for something? He looked at the tablet, inspecting it more closely.

It took all of three seconds to see it, and when he did a chill ran down his spine. “What the… What happened to the words?” He reached for the stone, only to have it pulled away once more. “Damn it, let me look at the thing!”

“Evidence, Cruelles.” Colarse stepped back, his movement like a flighty bee trying to keep its distance. “The Guard won’t let anypony touch them. I’m lucky I was able to bring this one. Now please, tell me you had nothing to do with it.”

“I don’t even know what’s happening. Now let me see that tablet!” He started to approach, but one of the armed ponies stepped in his way. He scowled at the mare, clearly an officer, then shifted to get a better look at Colarse. “Give me the details.”

“The ‘detail’ is that somepony tampered with the Outlook tablets,” the director hissed. “Dozens of them! Somepony went in and changed the lettering.”

The hackles on Caballerons’ neck rose. His legs started to shake. “They. Did. What?”

“You see that?” Colarse snapped at the mare between them. “Does that look like the reaction of a guilty stallion to you?”

“The evidence points to Mr. Caballeron.” The officer leveled Cruelles with a firm look. “We need to bring you in for questioning.”

He snorted and backed away. “Evidence? What evidence?”

“All in due time, Mr. Caballeron.” She gestured to her three companions, who spread out as if to block escape. “Are you going to come quietly?”

Caballeron considered refusing, even knowing they’d try to force him. The little devil in the back of his head was clawing at the walls to be let out, but he gripped it by the tail and flung to the back of his mind. He’d done nothing. A guiltless pony had no need to fear. He’d go in, answer their stupid questions, and then get to the bottom of things himself.

He lifted his head high just for the sake of looking down his muzzle at her. “I’ll go. I want to know who’s screwing with my research as much as you do.”

She nodded and stepped aside. “There’s a carriage waiting outside.”

With the four guards surrounding him, Caballeron allowed himself to be led out, but not before shouting back at the crew, “I’m gonna be back by morning. Don’t let me come here and find out you’ve all been slacking off! And somepony tell Yearling.” The thought of his young assistant almost brought him short.

“She’s gonna freak out.”










July 4, C.Y. 989  
Estéril Pezuñas


Caballeron wasn’t back by morning.

The ‘evidence’ against him was nothing short of absurd. Apparently somepony insisted on having seen him enter the store rooms for the tablets right before the most recent vandalism. That seemed vague to even his questioners, but the criminal had left the tools of the act behind, along with fur and mane hairs that looked startlingly similar to Caballeron's. Worse, the tampering had apparently been going on for months! By this point Caballeron suspected he was being framed, and suggested they look closer at the pony who was accusing him. Alas, she had an alibi, with witnesses.

Still, Caballeron had been confident they’d be able to prove his innocence, even after having to stay a night in jail. When they asked permission to search his townhouse, he gave it readily; what possible evidence could they find to incriminate him there?

He’d been a fool.

He stared at the officer from before, who he now knew was named Cherry Picker. Odd name for a Royal Guard. “A journal.”

Officer Picker nodded solemnly, lifting up a small green book. “Your personal journal.”

He stared at the unfamiliar thing in puzzlement. “I don’t keep a journal.”

“No?”

“No.” He leaned forward, trying to get a better look at the book. “I mean, I keep official journals for the Outlook digsite and my research notes, but personal, everyday stuff? No need.”

She raised an eyebrow, then flipped the book open. “It has your hoofwriting.”

Gritting his teeth, Caballeron pushed the little demon to the back of his mind. “You are mistaken.”

“I don’t think I am.” Flipping a few more pages, she began to read. “ ‘The damn tablets aren’t getting the results I need. Clearly we were mistaken; this isn’t Pawtlpotl after all. I didn’t spend all these years of my life on a lost cause. Perhaps, if I can’t find the evidence, I can make it.’ ”

The devil came back with a vengeance. Caballeron shot to his hooves, chest banging against the table as he did. “It’s a lie! I didn’t write that!”

Officer Picker continued as if he’d not spoken. “ ‘It would be one thing if it was just my career on the line. I could accept the setback. But the Outlook isn’t just my dig site, it’s also Silty’s. If I can protect her reputation—‘ ”

Caballeron launched himself over the table, only to be caught halfway over it by the magic of the watching guards. He squirmed and roared in Officer Picker’s startled face. “Who wrote it? I’ll kill them for abusing her name like that! Give me that fucking book! I’ll track them down, I’ll rip them to pieces!”

The book snapped closed as the mare retreated. “Calm down!”

“Fuck you!” He kicked and flailed, emitting snarls and growls as he hung in midair. “They’re framing me, and they’re using my fucking dead fiancee’s fucking name to do it!”

She stuffed the foul thing back into her pocket, scowling at him all the while. “We’ll determine the validity of the journal for ourselves, Mr. Caballeron. I’ll admit, we didn’t have too much to go on when we first brought you in, but after finding this the odds are not in your favor. If you are guilty, I’d seriously consider a confession.”

“I’m not confessing to a Celestia-be-damned thing!”

“Suit yourself.” She nodded to the guards, and Caballeron was carried out the door.

He fought and kicked and grasped, but the guards did an excellent job of keeping him away from anything he might use for leverage. “Give me that book! I’m being framed! I won’t let them do this to me!”

“Boss!”

The fire dimmed just slightly at the familiar voice. He turned his head to find A.K. Yearling watching from an office down the hall. Hope flared within him at the sight of her tear-streaked face. “Kid! You gotta get back to the campus. Tell Colarse what’s going on. You’ve gotta find the truth. I didn’t do this!”

She jumped up and followed as he was carried back towards the cells. “I’m sorry, Boss, I’m so sorry!” Her path was blocked by a pair of guards. “I didn’t know they’d accuse you like this!”

Wait, what? He paused his fighting to stare at her. “What are you saying?”

She pressed against the guards, anguish clear on her face. “I found the tablets. I found them and you weren’t there, so I told Director Colarse. I’m sorry, I didn’t think they’d target you like this!”

It had been her. The witness they’d spoken of. Did she plant the journal, too? Why would she?

Of course, it was obvious. She was a rising star. She wanted credit. She needed him out of the way!

The world turned red. “Y-you… You!” He resumed the struggle as he glared at her horrified face. “You fucking traitorous bitch! I accepted you, was gonna make you part of something special! And you used Silty’s name to do it!”

Her fight against the guards ceased and her eyes grew wide. “W-what? No, I never—”

“Shut up!” He roared with such ferocity even the guards holding him in the air paused. “You’re dead you little whore! You hear me? Dead! You better hope they throw me in jail, because if they don’t I am going to make you pay, do you hear me? Do you fucking hear me?!”

He was still screaming when the doors to the cell block slammed in his face. The last he saw of her was her tear-streaked, horrified expression.
> Book V – Cruelles Caballeron: A New Life
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------




Anger issues.

Yeah, they had me pegged with that one. You always helped me keep it in control, didn’t you? It  never got out of hoof. I figured out how to hold back, and a lot of that had to do with you. Looking at how things turned out after, I can’t help but wonder. Were you the only thing keeping me good all that time?

The more I think on it, the more I think so. I’ve always had a devilish streak in me. I can’t tell you how many times I thought about fudging the rules to get what I wanted, or outright breaking the law. But I never did it. I held myself back, because I knew you wouldn’t approve. The thought of disappointing you

It scared me.

Then you left.

Nothing scared me anymore.

—Cruelles Caballeron, Book of Shadows XLVIII,

December 22, 1002
Excerpt from personal diaries, translated from Palabras del Sur, June 16, 1007












November 1, C.Y. 991 
The Firesands – The Burning Lands


Caballeron snarled with every swing of his pickaxe, the rough wood tasteless in his mouth. The hard stone flew about in small chunks, occasionally pelting his hot, sweat-streaked coat. He accepted the sting. Enjoyed it. It kept his anger boiling. He imagined her face with every downward stroke, happy to imagine it was blood covering his body instead of sweat and grit and bits of coal.

A bell sounded. Reigning in his fury, Caballeron slowed his rhythm until the strikes finally ceased. He glanced up at a cloudless sky. Noon already. Interesting how time flew when one was pretending to commit murder.

Resting the pickaxe against the wall of stone, he turned to tread the long path back to the mess hall. Though he had only an hour to eat, he didn’t hurry. Even had his legs not burned from a morning of endless labor, he felt no desire at the thought of food. The discomfort of an empty belly soothed just like anger did, distracting him from… other things.

He looked down the cliffside of the quarry, at the railcars being filled with coal to be delivered to central Equestria for distribution. He was too low to see beyond the pony-made valley, but knew that if he followed the tracks he’d end up in the endless desert that was the Burning Lands. The perfect place for a prison, really. They didn’t bother with fences or patrols. There was no need. Beyond this place lay nothing but rock and sand and mountains and lava for over a thousand miles.

To say nothing of the natives. He cast a glance at the cavernous cave set above the quarry, where sat a great yellow dragon. Kuranox, the Warden of the Firesands, her reptilian eyes ever on the prisoners placed in her ‘care.’ Could Celestia have asked for a more fitting jailer? Not for the first time, Caballeron dreamed about feeding her a few old friends. The steady stream of troublemakers did well to add some spice to her regular gem-laden meals, so it wasn’t hard to imagine their screams. It brought a pleasant smile to his lips.

He noticed the dirty, sweat-coated mare coming, but did nothing to avoid the impact. She slammed into his shoulder, knocking him closer to the sheer cliff edge. He grunted from the blow – she certainly had some muscle to her – then studied her with one eye. Light blue, mess of an orange mane, tooth missing from her smirk. A big earth pony. Big as him. More muscular, too. Still, one look was all he needed.

Without turning to her, he settled his hooves and lowered his head slightly. “I don’t know you.”

Her smirk only grew and her tail flicked. “I hear you’re the Prince of Sands.”

“Stupid name.” He listened to her chuckle. Low, hard and raspy. “You don’t want it.”

She lowered her front side and scraped at the dirt. “I think I do. It’s a long fall, huh?”

Caballeron didn’t smile. He kept loose, shifting his body in small ways in quiet preparation. He never took his eyes off her own.

A scowl replaced her smirk. It seemed his unwillingness to banter was a disappointment. Did she expect him to be braggadocious? Another simple felon looking for an easy climb up a ladder not worth the destination.

Not that they ever realized that.

The mare lunged, but Caballeron was quicker. His neck swung, and the pointed tip of the pickaxe moved in a blur. He spun his hindquarters around with the movement, rotating out of the way of her clumsy attack, and she landed at his side. She didn’t even get the chance to look surprised before the axe stabbed into her shoulder from behind.

Caballeron’s hips ended their revolution by banging into hers, knocking her sideways even as she screamed. He repositions his mouth on the shaft, and with a lurch of his shoulders and neck, pulled her forward and down. Howling as her body twisted to his movement, she flipped sideways and went over the edge. He locked his legs and bit down hard on the handle; the mare’s descent jerked to a stop thanks to the pick still stuck in her shoulder.

They hung there for a few seconds, him staring down at her and her gripping the axe head in a combination of pain and fear. He kept his legs spread and taught, but could tell he wouldn't be able to hold her weight for long. The drop below was probably a good five stories, emphasized by the rocks that rained down from their brief scuffle. After a moment of pained groaning, the mare looked up at him with pleading eyes.

“H-hey,” she spoke between hissing breaths. “J-just playing, right? Wanted to see h-how good you were. You know?” With a feeble chuckle, she reached for the cliff edge. “Give a girl a break, r-right?”

He tried to get the image in his head. Golden coat. Greyscale mane. Brilliant ruby eyes.

It wouldn’t come. No matter how much he willed it, this wasn’t her.

He let go anyway. He took in her expression in that fatal moment between hope and horror. The way her smile drifted into open-mouthed shock. How her eyes, once expectant and hopeful, turned to the terror of understanding. And her face, once a pleasant blue, became pale. He watched her all he way down, letting her shriek stab into his eardrums, and tried his absolute best to imagine her with another mare’s colors and face.

Then the sound cut off. Unsatisfied, he turned to continue his walk. Those ponies who had paused to watch were quick to step out of his way.









Solitary confinement. Again. Why wouldn’t the dumb lizard just eat him and get it over with?

The room was pitch black, not even a window to tell him the time of day. That didn’t bother him much. More serious was the heat. Sweat poured from his body in waves, filling the room with a horrid stench. The floor beneath him was hard and unforgiving. As uncomfortable as it was, Caballeron couldn’t bring himself to complain. What good would it do?

Twelve more years of this. If the heat or labor or Kuranox didn’t kill him first, which seemed to be the case for most of the ponies here. But he’d survive. He could tough it out better than they could, he knew it. The only thing standing between him and his vengeance was time.

It had all happened so neatly, so quickly. One moment, he’s a prestigious archeologist just months away from his doctorate. Then the foundations crumbled, and all because of one mare. No, not a mare; a filly. To think, he’d given her a chance. He’d grown to like her. She was going to have her name etched in history one way or another, and he’d been happy to let her share the spotlight of Silty’s great discovery.

Tampering with artifacts, they’d said. Creating a false narrative, they’d declared. The evidence had mounted against him, all of it false, some of it blatantly manufactured just for his case. A journal he’d never written, telling all about how he’d planned some scheme to falsely claim the discovery of Pawtlpotl.

Now Silty’s legacy lay in ruins. Pawtlpotl would forever be known as a red herring – a fantastic find, for certain, but not what he had told everyone it was. All the tablets, all their proof, ruined in a heinous act of vandalism. And if a dozen were proven to be manipulated, how could any of the others be considered accurate? All the evidence of Pawtlpotl’s rediscovery, named worthless thanks to one overambitious filly.

Caballeron ground his hoof on the gritty floor, imagining it was Yearling’s head being mashed to a pulp. The devil in the back of his mind rubbed its claws with sadistic glee, whispering promises of blood and violence and hatred. He made no attempt to silence its velvety voice. No, he basked in it, reveled in it, looked forward to the future it would bring.

A decade. Only time.

He needed only be patient.

There came a clanking sound, which experience told him was the bar of the door being removed. He frowned towards the noise; though he had no means of telling time, it seemed far too early for them to be letting him out. He covered his eyes with a canon just before the door opened, and he still had to squint against the glare. They didn’t come rushing in to beat on him with their clubs and magic, so clearly they weren’t here to drag him back to his regular room.

“Mr. Caballeron, I presume?”

Thick voice. Masculine, but a little off. Accent gave his origins away instantly. Caballeron lowered his leg and blinked as his eyes readjusted. He couldn’t see anything beyond his visitor’s shadowy frame, but it was enough to know he was a deer.

He scowled. “I don’t know you.”

The deer chuckled. “No, I would say not.”

Re-positioning so he sat facing his guest, Caballeron asked, “What’s a tree hugger like you doing in this hellhole?”

“Straight to the point. Good.” The deer stepped aside, out of the glaring light from the door, and his features became clear. Tall and lanky, but that described all deer as far as Caballeron knew. Muscular, though. Soft face, a common trait of the species if the stories were accurate. Antlers were… well, they were antlers. Caballeron knew nothing about those, so he couldn’t say if they were unusual or not. He did notice that one of the horns had been cut off where it had been growing from the main trunk, though. Was that the right terminology? Trunk?

The deer smiled and set a cloven hoof to his chest. “And now that you have had a good look at me, know that I am Chasing-The-Green-Wind, son of Leaves-Fall-To-Earth. You may call me Chasing, if you so prefer.”

Aristocratic manner of speaking. His entire demeanor might have put Caballeron off his game, but for one thing: Chasing’s eyes revealed an analytical, focused gaze. It was not the gaze of one who goes into dangerous places like the Burning Lands unprepared. His outer shell was soft, but Caballeron suspected that when pressed Chasing would reveal a great many thorns, and that muscle surely wasn’t just for show.

With a sniff, Caballeron glanced between him and the door. No guards. They had privacy. “What are you after?”

“A pony of your skills,” Chasing replied smoothly. “I wish to hire you.”

“Not interested.” Caballeron turned away and lay down, ready to return to his brooding.

“But sir, I have not even mentioned your fee.”

Flicking his tail at the deer, Caballeron replied stoically, “You don’t have anything I want.”

“Oh, but I think I do.” A soft, yellow glow filled the room, presumably from Chasing’s horns. Dust and dirt swirled around them, only to begin coalescing before Caballron in a pile. He watched with disinterest as the pile reshaped into the distinct form of a pony roughly a hoofs’ width tall.

Then that pony gained a recognizable appearance, and his eyes widened. “Director Colarse?”

“He is the one who officially filed charges, is he not? After he too became convinced of the evidence.”

Caballeron glanced back at Chasing to take in his smirk. He thought on the director and the day he’d been confronted regarding the tampered tablets. Yet, no matter how he thought on it, he felt no anger towards the old pony. He turned away with a shrug. “The director was fooled. I won’t begrudge him that.” He swept away the sand pony with a foreleg.

“Oh? Well, that is unexpected.” The sands drifted back into place, shifting into a new form. “It takes away many of the… ‘opportunities’ I intended to offer. But that is alright. There’s really only one I need.”

There could be no questioning what was coming, but Caballeron awaited it anyway. As expected, the sands became another pony, this time a familiar filly. A perfect image of A.K. Yearling stared up at him, her smile bright and innocent. The image alone was enough to make his blood boil, but he made no move to demolish the offensive thing.

He glanced away. “I don’t want you to kill her for me.”

“Kill her? Perish the thought.” Chasing laughed pleasantly. “No, I will do nothing of the sort.”

Cocking his head, Caballeron turned to observe the deer. “Then why show her to me?”

The smile on Chasing’ face turned wicked. He looked Caballeron in the eye, and his gaze held a clear darkness. “I know your type, Mr. Caballeron. I know what stirs you. You would never wish for me, or an old acquaintance, or anyone else to go after young Miss Yearling, oh, no. You want to go out there and do it yourself.” He raised a hoof as if to offer it. “That is what I give you, sir. Freedom. You leave this pit now, instead of in a decade, and perhaps find your quarry.”

The little devil in Caballeron’s mind had suddenly developed a new interest in this deer. But Caballeron wasn’t so eager to accept that hoof, at least not yet. He sat up straight once more and peered at Chasing. “In return for what?”

“Ah, yes, the ‘what’.” Chasing lowered his hoof, and his smile softened. “I am a collector, you see. Of fine, rare antiques. It is a little hobby, you know.”

Caballeron raised an eyebrow. “You want me to steal relics?”

The smile faded, Chasing’s expression becoming one of annoyance. “Do not think me so uncivilized. I do not need a thief. I need an explorer. An archeologist with the smarts to know where to go, the resourcefulness to get there, and a hide thick enough to make it back alive.”

Ears perked as Caballeron began to make sense of this strange request. “Ah. You need a treasure hunter.”

“And a good one,” Chasing said with a nod. He pointed to the small sand statue of Yearling. “One good enough – and enthusiastic enough – to do the job before more decent-minded upstarts can.”

Caballeron glanced at the small statue, ignoring the ball of venom the sight of it created in his throat. He thought her 'decent-minded'? “Is she on some sort of mission?”

Now Chasing’s gaze had grown cold. “Your former assistant has since changed her identity, Mr. Caballeron, and taken up a new life. She travels to dangerous, mysterious places in the wild to raid infamous tombs of their valuables for museums and her own collection. She has proven quite capable in this endeavor.”

So that was why he’d come for Caballeron. He was likely the only individual in the world who had been on such dangerous adventures before. Caballeron hadn’t done that sort of thing in over a decade, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t go back to that sort of life. Granted, back then he’d been doing things legally, but this sounded like something… less so.

He wouldn’t admit it out loud, but the thought appealed to him. It certainly beat wasting away in this prison dreaming of vengeance. His old life was gone, and his reason for remaining legit lost to some foal of a carriage driver. This? This might at least make life interesting again.

But Caballeron wasn’t quite ready. “What are you up to?”

Chasing’s eyebrows rose. “Up to?”

A good act, but not near enough to dissuade. Caballeron stood and took a step closer, scrutinizing the deer. “Ancient artifacts don’t get hidden in dangerous ruins because they are covered in gold. Many of them are magical, unusual… dangerous. I’m not about to help a mad deer go from relic collecting to tyranny.”

With a cloven hoof to his chest and a gasp that almost made Caballeron roll his eyes, Chasing replied, “I had no idea! Well, if these artifacts are half as dangerous as you suggest, is it not in everyone’s best interest to get them in a safe place?”

Caballeron raised an eyebrow. “Safer than where they already are? As in the undiscovered, largely unknown deathtraps hidden beyond known civilization?”

A blink. Chasing stared at Caballeron as if seeing him for the first time. He lowered his hoof slowly… then gained a predatory smile.

“You are an even better candidate than I hoped.” He paused to rub the sweat from his forehead, but beyond that the heat didn’t seem to bother him. “Alright, so I cannot prove to you that I am not doing something nefarious with these artifacts. You cannot prove I am. So how about this?”

He thrust his hoof to the small statuette of Yearling. “She has already found two artifacts since you were imprisoned. She will find more. The foolish child does not appear to know what she is meddling with, not really. Would you rather trust in her to keep the world safe from such things?”

Caballeron cast another glance at the small Yearling. Was Chasing trying to use his anger to goad him? Oh, he certainly felt the necessary heat. Indeed, right now he wanted nothing more than to smash that pile of dust. The only reason he hadn’t was to prove his self control, although whether that was to himself or his potential employer was unclear.

He wouldn’t let this sway him. “Your suggestion is pointless. You’re asking I either trust you – whom I don’t know in any way – or trust the ponies that may take advantage of the brat. Trade and unknown with an unknown, and all things are equal in the end.”

Chasing’s smile faltered. “You are a tough negotiator.”

Caballeron stood up and straightened his shoulders, coming to his full and considerable height as he leveled a firm glare at the deer. “No, you just don’t know what makes me tick. You mistakenly believe that I have an interest in protecting this world. I don’t. The world hasn’t cared about me, so I don’t care about it.” He thrust a hoof at Chaser’s startled face. “But if you end up being a fiend who would use some ancient magical relic to grow all-powerful and start a new reign of terror, I don’t want the princess that kills you with a glance to come after the pony who gave you the opportunity afterwards.

“I want just one thing.” Only now did he lash out, his back hoof stomping Yearling’s little sand statue into oblivion. “Her. All other arguments are a waste of both our time. You let me go after her on my own terms, in my own way, to do with her as I will. All I need is the freedom and the financing.”

Chasing’s face had become stoic. “And my artifacts?”

They stared at one another for some time. Caballeron considered his situation, and the potential faults. He knew as well as anypony that legends were often based on fact, and some of the things that might be found out there could be exceptionally dangerous even if the stories were only half true. Could he risk letting this guy have such things when he had no idea what he’d do with them? Was it worth it? He glanced back at the pile of sand he’d smashed, imagining it as Yearling. Oh, but he wanted to break her neck so badly.

Another decade of waiting for the sake of his conscience, or a chance to go after her now at the risk of a world?

Chasing’s lips twitched in the slightest of smiles. “I wonder what Miss Eyes would want?”

Caballeron moved without thinking, his hoof flying for the deer’s smug face. Chasing’s antler’s shined, a yellow shield appeared—

—and shattered like glass. His eyes had barely begun to widen in shock by the time the hoof smashed into his cheek. He staggered back with a cry, raising his legs to defend himself, but Caballeron didn’t follow up the hit. He was too busy thinking about how good the violence had felt, how Silty would be shaking her head had she seen, and how the little devil in the back of his mind cackled. He snorted steam, breath coming in sharp hisses through his teeth. He tried pushing the demon back, but it danced around his mental shoves like it was made of water, taunting and teasing.

She’s dead. She’s dead. There's nothing to hold me back. All that time I acted like the good little colt. It didn’t matter at all. Silty is dead. And that bitch used her name to frame me. That rotten, flea-infested, backstabbing…

“Mr. Caballeron?”

He shifted his glare upon Chasing, who flinched back. The deer rubbed his cheek, and his eyes were wide and unsure. The mask of confidence and control had broken, and now he saw Chasing for what he was: a rich brat who always got his way. Those muscles were all for show. And now that someone had dared to teach him a lesson, he didn’t seem so bold. No, he was more like a bundle of straw waiting to break.

What would somepony like that do with the power of the Alicorn Amulet? Or the Ring of Destiny?

Does it really matter?

Another glance at the pile of sand behind him.

No. It really didn’t.

He jerked forward, and Chasing flinched. Caballeron paused his hoof’s motion a hair’s breadth from the deer’s face. He held Chasing’s gaze, channeling through his own as much of the rage boiling within as he could muster.

Chasing swallowed audibly.

“You get me the funds and the freedom,” Caballeron hissed. “You give me the means to deal with Yearling, and I’ll get you your artifacts.”

Chasing blinked, fear fading for confusion. “You… You will?”

“Don’t make me repeat myself.” Turning for the door, Caballeron made his way out. “I trust everything is arranged for me to leave?”

“Why, yes. As a matter of fact.” Chasing chuckled nervously, slowly building to a proper laugh. “Splendid! This is going to be a wonderful partnership. Now if you would just—”

Caballeron rounded on him so fast that Chasing jumped back, his legs spreading in preparation for flight. “Let’s get this right,” Caballeron snarled. “I don’t like you. We aren’t partners, or friends, or whatever other term of endearment you intend to use to weasel your way into my good graces. We are the means to each others ends and no more. And if you ever, ever say her name out loud again, I swear to Celestia, Nightmare Moon and The Voice I’ll rip your tongue out and eat it.”

Though he did not smile, Caballeron couldn’t help but be pleased by Chasing’s shivering, wide-eyed expression.










November 15, C.Y. 991 
Estéril Pezuñas


The door’s hinges creaked as it opened. They actually creaked. That probably shouldn’t have bothered Caballeron as much as it did, and it was silly to fret over such a thing.

But still…

They creaked. They never did that when he lived here.

He stood at the threshold, body covered in a thick brown cloak. He kept his eyes set on the hinges, a spike of ice running through his chest. He’d come all this way, hoping for some commonality or familiarity or even a bit of nostalgia. And what greeted him? Creaking hinges. First thing. With his door so poorly maintained…

He shouldn’t look. Couldn’t. Looking would do him no good.

Maybe if he kept his eyes closed. He followed his own mental suggestion, and the idea immediately became easier. With a sigh, he took a step forward. When his hoof clopped on the wooden floor, however, his momentum crashed. The sound was so painfully familiar, sending echoes that shook his ribcage and pounded on his heart. He stood there, half inside, and let the pain stew inside his chest.

Somepony in the street called out. Though the yell hadn’t been for him, it shot through Caballeron like a jolt of energy, and before he knew it he’d lunged forward and slammed the door closed. He sat and pressed his back to the wood, trembling and trying to control his breathing. He remained that way for some time, letting his heart calm and his mind focus. Finally, he opened his eyes.

Dust coated everything in a thick grime. Otherwise, his old home looked the same now as it had when he’d left it. He’d expected things to be ruined by the investigation of the Royal Guard all that time ago, but from this first glance? Not a single picture was out of place. Even the artifacts remained on the walls. He’d imagined they would have been stolen for certain.

His first fears and expectations left unrealized, Caballeron swiftly recovered from his anxiety. This wasn’t so bad. He might only be visiting for the night before the beginning of his new job, but the thought of staying in this place didn’t seem half as daunting now. Perhaps he could make it his permanent residence once more. The fact that it remained in his name, though completely unexpected given his two year absence, was a welcome one.

But he’d not chosen to come back for the sake of convenience. This in mind, he moved through the greeting room, then the kitchen with its cabinets unused for a seeming eternity. Would the gems in the stove still function after all this time? Onwards to the least used room in the house: the utility room, where he kept all the tools and materials necessary for regular household maintenance. A glance at the dusty yet well-stocked counters made him consider fixing those creaking hinges, but he swiftly filed the thought away upon noting the large chest in the back.

He blew on the bronze lock, sending dust flying. The big red thing was still a beauty even after a decade of doing nothing but lying forgotten in some repurposed closet. Even so, it took him only a moment to fetch the key from a nook hidden behind some hammers and screwdrivers. It slid in easily and the lock came undone. More dust particles filled the room as the lid opened, making Caballeron sneeze into his fetlock.

A visual cacophany of colors met his gaze: rugs, ornate things of red, yellow and gold. He rubbed a hoof across the first one, delighting that the thick wool remained as soft as ever. Carefully, he pulled the Zebrabwe souvenirs out and set them aside, revealing numerous boxes. He could remember the contents of each, and though he opened none of them as he put them out of his way, he fondly recalled the treasures. This one, a statuette gifted to him by an old Griffon Lord. And this, full of ancient beads belonging to a now extinct race of avians, distant cousins of the griffons. And here! A solid wooden box possessing a solid black crystal carved as the face of Princess Amore of the Crystal Empire. He knew some old collectors who would kill for that one – they'd tried once before.

And beneath it all, a long case made of polished oak. Caballeron traced his hoof over the lacquered veneer, recalling the night when he’d been gifted this item. It had been so long since he’d had to use it. He’d thought his days of adventuring were over. A ‘young colt’s’ life, set aside for a more level-headed career among students and research papers. Did he even remember how to use it?

With great care, he lifted the case. As long as he was, the thing proved tricky to get out of the small room. He brought it into the kitchen and laid it upon the table. The latches snapped open with ease, and the box opened to a velvet-lined interior. Inside lay a long, thick boomerang, painted a dark red with yellow stripes running along its two wings. The leading edge gleamed silver, a blade of cool metal embedded in the wood.

“Hello, Boomer.” Caballeron lifted the weapon, careful not to touch the sharp edge. He tested its balance with one hoof, feeling the weight of it pushing against his muscles. It was almost as long as he was. “Did you miss me? I’m sorry I kept you hidden all this time. Silty wasn’t very fond of you, y’know?”

With a satisfied sigh, he set Boomer down on the table, pushing the case aside as he did. The weapon stretched beyond the length of the furniture. Boomer seemed bigger than he recalled. Did he still have the strength to throw it properly? He’d have to get some practice in while he travelled.

A light tap of the hoof reminded him that the blade needed sharpening. Running his canon along the edge helped give him an idea of how bad the situation was; he didn’t cut himself until he’d gone halfway along Boomer’s length. “That just won’t do.”

It took a little digging to find the old whetstone and oil. They’d been under the sink, for whatever reason. But then, that was how he always handled things at home; where work was an organized arrangement, home was messy and unclear, with nothing ever put in the same place twice. The only reason the place looked so orderly now was because he’d not been living in it prior to his arrest. If he’d been at home for another day or two, though…

He wondered if Silty would have corrected that. Looking back, she’d never been the neatest individual. Perhaps that made her a stickler for a clean home? Of course, she could have been as bad at home as she was in the field, in which case this place would have looked like a disaster area. Now that he thought on it, had he ever seen her own home? The outside, yes, but the interior?

Thoughts of Silty gave him pause. He stood before the table, Boomer awaiting his tender ministrations and the whetstone held in one hoof. He gazed at the stone for a time, thinking of his beloved Marble Statue. His trophy. He could almost see her face in the hard stone.

Setting his jaw, he put the stone down next to Boomer and turned for the stairs. He strode with purpose, hooves clopping loudly as he marched to his destination on the second floor. That will faded swiftly, however, when he came to a stop at the door to the bedroom. Not giving himself a chance to hesitate, he pushed it open and strode inside, but from there his determination truly wavered.

His eyes landed on the bed. Big, but plain. Neatly folded, one would think it had never been used before. If he focused properly, he could still see her stretched languidly beneath the covers, watching him with a lazy smile. It had been one night. Just one. But oh, what a memorable one. Even now, he felt something stirring within him. Just the idea of her being here, waiting and eager and…

With a gasp, he turned away from the bed. As he did, his eyes promptly fell upon the bookshelf inlaid in the wall. The books were ignored, the artifacts forgotten, all in favor of a single small box that left his heart cold. He clutched at his chest just to make sure the hole there was all in his head. Assured that the condition wasn’t physical, he tried to relax. His body refused, of course.

Though his bones seemed to grind against one another in violent protest, Caballeron approached the innocuous box on the shelf. His trembling hoof snatched it down as if he were afraid of some repercussion to the action. With a dry throat and moist eyes, he undid the little clasp and opened the box. Within sat a familiar silver necklace, the tiny diamonds upon it shimmering even in the dim lighting of the bedroom. Caballeron could only stand to look at the thing for a few seconds before snapping the lid shut once more.

His prize attained, he walked back downstairs. Upon reaching the kitchen, he sat before the table and held the box over Boomer. Opening the box was easy this time, though he couldn’t fathom why. Carefully, he set the box down on the table’s corner, where he could easily see the necklace from where he sat before his old weapon.

And then? He just sat there. Shoulders slumped, head low. His gaze shifted from Boomer to the necklace. Boomer, his old traveling companion, seemed to smile at him in patient anticipation. But the necklace?

Silty watched him, her expression stern like stone, judging and accusing. Her eyes glistened silver like the necklace, reflecting her firm displeasure. Those eyes ate at his soul, reminding him of everything he’d agreed to. Chasing would have him go on the hunt, doing whatever it took to get things that Caballeron himself so strongly valued. And he would do it, not because he agreed with Chasing, or even trusted him, but because the pony he hated the most would be after the same thing. And when he caught up with her…

Even when he closed his eyes, Silty’s stabbed into his heart. She didn’t understand. He knew that. Silty was a good pony. Caballeron had once thought of himself as a good pony, too.

With arms feeling leaden, he pulled Boomer closer to the edge of the table, making sure the blade was over the side. Then he took the whetstone, seeming so much heavier, and began to work. He moved slowly, with the care and precision he’d thought forgotten, but it came back as naturally as breathing. He didn’t look to the ghostly apparition glaring at him from the corner. Even so, with every scrape of stone against metal, he thought he could feel something within him dying. The very sound of his actions ached.

But he kept on, jaw set and shoulders hunched. He had to do this for her, even knowing it would offend. Yearling had stolen so much from them, he couldn’t just let it be. If what he’d heard was true, that upstart was starting to become recognized as a hero. A hero, that traitorous, meddling, backstabbing wench. Silty would understand in time, she had to. This wasn’t just about revenge; this would be justice.

In the back of his mind, that little devil leered. Every brush of metal against stone weakened the lifetime of bindings Caballeron had set upon it, until it began to break the old chains one by one. It flexed its muscles with newfound energy, smirking at the stone-cold visage of Silty as it did. Had she even known about it, Caballeron’s deeply hidden desires and anger? Perhaps she had. Perhaps she’d been the salve for the beast that had threatened to escape his entire life.

But now that salve was gone, and only one pony was responsible. And despite Silty’s silent-yet-ardent opposition, Caballeron was prepared to unleash it against Yearling with all its viciousness. The thought almost made him smile, but Silty’s fierce glare kept his lips in check.

For now.

The action went on, slowly, rhythmically. Caballeron took his time. The blade hissed with every motion, the only noise in the dark kitchen. The sound did little to distract him from Silty’s icy gaze or the devil’s excited giggles. But then, he didn’t want it to. Did he not deserve her scorn, deserve it for wanting his little monster freed? She wouldn’t understand. She couldn’t. He wouldn’t let her good nature stop him, nor would he allow himself to hide from her anger.

The sun no longer peeked through the windows’ blinds when he finished. Boomer’s blade was as sharp as he could get it with his simple tools. He used a hair from his tail to test it, and it sliced through it with no resistance. The devil within grinned at the sight. Silty had long ago turned her face away.

One last thing to check. Caballeron turned his attention to Boomer’s old carrying case. Inside was a simple harness, complete with some thick boots and a cavesson. He left the harness for now and took out the noseband, wrapping it about his head. Unlike regular, decorative nosebands, this one included a set of thick leather braces that pressed against his jowls, forcing his lips into a wide position without getting in the way of his teeth.

It was uncomfortable, but that was to be expected. He’d not worn the thing in so long, he’d have to adapt to it all over again. But in time he’d be good enough so as to not need it. With the cavesson secured, he turned back to Boomer. His eyes shifted to the necklace; the ghostly image of Silty had lost her frigidity. She now watched him with ears low and eyes containing a mix of worry and hurt.

Dropping to his knees, Caballeron gradually positioned his mouth around Boomer. He leaned forward, keeping his tongue rooted to the bottom of his mouth, until the blade pressed against the leather on his cheeks. Grunting, he stood, lifting the boomerang with little difficulty. The leather did its job, protecting his vulnerable flesh from Boomer’s deadly blade. He gave the weapon a few slow swings, cautious not to strike any of the furniture or walls as he did.

Of course, this wasn’t the proper way to hold Boomer; the blade was meant to face outward. But until he re-mastered his throws so as to always catch the blunt side Caballeron would need to be sure that the cavesson could protect him. He wouldn’t be able to test that properly until he was out in the field with space for a few throws, but for now he was satisfied with the equipment. He put Boomer back down, then took a moment to test the boots. They fit even better than he remembered, and when he sat back and lifted the boomerang with them they effectively stopped the blade from cutting into his flesh. It all came together, every piece working properly, as if they’d been patiently awaiting his return. It was almost like meeting an old friend.

His work done, Caballeron put each piece back into the carrying case. With the lid closed, he took a moment to look around his old home. The artifacts, some taken on carefully planned digs, others from a life of adventuring he’d thought long past. Compared to the things he’d now be seeking? They were mere trinkets. He’d be after bigger game, relics worth something other than knowledge of the past; items that had been hidden not because of a decaying society or invasion, but because the owners recognized them for the threat they were.

A wise pony would leave them be. Silty’s phantom all but begged him to do so. She appeared so frail now, her eyes sunken and her knees trembling. He’d never seen her so gaunt. She said not a word. She didn’t need to.

Caballeron stared back, his heart bleeding with every slow beat. She was right. Every fiber of his body, every whispy piece of his soul, declared it so. But the demon, freed from all its bindings, whispered into his ear the gentle reminder of who else was out there and what she was responsible for. And, with hooves shaking, Caballeron reached out and took the small case in his hooves. He gazed at the shiny silver necklace within for a long time.

The case snapped closed. With that, the worn apparition disappeared, and he was left alone once more.

“I’m sorry.” He set the case down on the table. “I was never the good pony you thought I was.”

Ignoring the leering devil in his mind, Caballeron placed Boomer’s carrying case on his back and left his old townhouse. He closed the door on his past and his reservations and strode into the city, ready for whatever the future had in store.
> Book V – Cruelles Caballeron: Under New Management
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------



	It’s been ages since I last wrote to you. At least, it feels that way. But tonight

There’s a mare in my hotel bed. I picked her up from the last adventure. One of the monks. She thinks we have something special. I’m thinking I’ll be on the first train to Riverwood in the morning. She’s not the first I’ve left behind. And while I can see your hot pink glare, I know I’ll be at it again in a few weeks. I think. Maybe? Something about this time felt different. Wrong. It’s more than being unsatisfied with her performance, because – and I admit this to you with a shame I didn’t know I could have anymore – she’s very skilled.

I felt sick. The entire time. I kept looking at her, but it was never her. It was always you. You were giving me what I wanted, but doing so with this hatred in your eye.

Maybe it was a dream. Maybe it’s the years weighing down on me. Maybe I’m finally losing it.

I’ll go back to doing it. I’m sure I will, because there’s only one thing that makes me forget.

But

I don’t want to anymore.

—Cruelles Caballeron, Book of Shadows XLVIII,
April 11, 993
Excerpt from personal diaries, translated from Palabras del Sur, June 16, 1007












June 15, C.Y. 993 
Somewhere in the Archipilego of Caribou


Aw, shit. Not again.

Those were the last words to cross Caballeron’s mind before his face met mud. Why was there always a copious amount of mud in temples, and why did he always find a way to put his face in them?

Her voice pierced his ears, neither taunting nor sympathetic. “Sorry, Caballeron, but I tried to warn you. See you at the next temple, I guess.”

Slowly, he raised his head from the muck, spitting some of the gritty gunk as he did. Too late; she’d already flown off. He considered trying to chase her, but after a few seconds simply laid his cheek back down in the mud. She had wings; he’d never catch her now. His muscles ached, his breathing barely below gasping, and his thighs still burned from that rope trap that had nearly torn his hind legs off. That particular tomb had been more dangerous than the average, and all he really wanted to do at this point was lie there and let his body complain.

So there he remained, protected from the jungle’s heat and bugs by a thick layer of cool mud as he considered his position – both literally and figuratively. When he’d started this mess four years ago, he’d been so confident in his ability to keep up with that wretched mare. This was his third time running into her on a mission for that obnoxious deer, and he’d not even come close. Even with his burning desire to break her neck, she’d gotten to the artifact ahead of him with minutes to spare. He might not have even gotten out alive had she not remained behind to help him.

He closed his eyes and heaved a sigh. Was he getting old? Couldn’t be, he was only twenty-six, and getting back into the hunt had done wonders for his health. His mind was as sharp as ever and his strength was the envy of other earth ponies. He had the passion, the focus and the purpose, but she was always one. Step. Ahead!

With a pained groan, Caballeron forced himself into a sitting position. He spotted a simple ramp running along the pit’s wall that would help him get out. Not a trap, then. Probably used for construction in some way, or storage. He limped his way out, body protesting every step. He removed his jacket, so tattered from the struggle that it easily slipped from beneath Boomer’s harness. Tossing it aside, he finally started up the ramp.

Next time, he’d always said. There was always a ‘next time’. But what if there wasn’t? His prior run-ins with Yearling had been sheer luck, this one included. The encounters came by virtue of the same information becoming available to the public at the same time. She must have a stellar information network if she was learning of things as fast as Chasing could deliver it to him. She became almost impossible to track once she stopped announcing her destinations publicly. Smart move, that.

As much as he wanted her to suffer, Caballeron couldn’t resist having a grudging respect for his enemy. That loathsome mare had… well, everything. For the first time since his quest for revenge had begun, he had the capacity to admit it: she was better. Smarter, faster, more resourceful, more capable. In every conceivable way save strength, Yearling had him outclassed. The thought might have been sobering if it hadn't been building upon him for the last few months.

He found Boomer embedded in the thick trunk of a tree not far away. He rubbed his hoof along its smooth surface, recalling how Yearling had angled herself just so for him to lose his weapon. Had she planned it? Could she be that good? The idea seemed preposterous. But then, she wasn’t the one covered in mud without an artifact.

Shit, what am I going to say to Chasing this time?

With one pull, he extracted the boomerang from the wood. With no small amount of snapping and popping, the large tree succumbed to its wound and fell to earth. Startled, Caballeron watched it fall with wide eyes. I didn’t think I’d thrown Boomer that hard.

Then again, he’d been at his most furious when they’d finally escaped the collapsing temple. Now that the excitement had passed, however, he just felt... weary.

He turned to glare at the ruin, now little more than a pile of busted stones and cracked engravings. He understood, the Collar of Dainn was a dangerous item, but did every place guarding something like that have to have some sort of self-destruct mechanism? Did it occur to none of those ancient cultures that once the temple or tomb or fortress or whatever was destroyed it lost its entire purpose? He wondered what was to stop the next band of adventurers from just digging up the ancient relic of doom after the last group got crushed.

The little devil in the back of his mind gave a gleeful chuckle at the thought of him having to dig Yearling’s body from just such a disaster. From that perspective, perhaps the stupid things did have some use.

He swung Boomer back, setting it into his holster with practiced skill. After snapping the locking straps closed, he patted the weapon gently. “Don’t worry, buddy. I don’t blame you. We’ll get her next time, alright?”

Next time.

There was always a next time.










July 12, C.Y. 993 
Riverwood of the Tribes of Green


Caballeron never felt comfortable being in deer country. Oh, the tribals were friendly and kind folk, but they had an unfortunate habit of looking down on anything not a deer. As far as they were concerned, they alone understood how the world worked and all others were pitiable ignorants. Heck, he wouldn’t even begrudge them that – were ponies really any different? What made them so much worse was the way in which they made their self-conceived superiority known.

'No, I'm not interested in reading a book while I wait, it would only be some drivel about how violence is evil and the magic of nature is the greatest thing ever.'

'Thanks, but I’m not interested in discussing where the ponies went wrong with their modern society.'

'Sorry, but the unification of the tribes into a major superpower – and that term is used only with an appreciation of the audience in the room – and why that way is perfect compared to the rise of every other nation on Equus has been recited to me a dozen times already.'

And it always came with pitying smiles and soft words of ‘understanding’. By the time they finally left him alone before Chasing’s office, he was on the verge of strangling one of the foul tree huggers. He stood in silence for a while, giving his stomach a chance to settle from the ever-nauseating experience that was deer.

Deer homes, however, where fascinating things. They would plant a special ‘Abode Tree’ that grew to maturity in a matter of months. The handlers used their magic to shape the growing tree however they desired, turning the inside hollow and making rooms as per a client’s needs, and with but a simple spell, the growth could be stopped. The trees came in a variety of species with many options, from stronger wood for industrial applications to varying colors and textures for décor purposes. Chasing’s home, which he’d been told was nearly four hundred years old, appeared to be some sort of spruce.

They proved to be amazingly comfortable and aesthetic buildings. Caballeron often wondered if, should he ever retire, he might convince Chasing to lend him some handlers for a private tree home of his own back in Equestria.

The idea of retirement pulled him out of his musings. If he kept losing artifacts to Yearling, that time might come sooner than he’d like. Grumbling to himself, he pushed open the door to Chasing’s office.

That was all it took for him to know something was wrong. For starters, the magilights were off. For another, Chasing had a bad habit of inviting guests in boisterously, even when they were so rude as to not knock. The combination of darkness and silence created a blanket of ice that draped uncomfortably over his backside. Caballeron glanced about the hallway, but he was alone.

A trap? Had Chasing grown tired of his failures and—

Caballeron almost burst into laughter. Chasing would never solve his problems using such tactics. Why use violence when he could leave Caballeron penniless? Even for the cruel ones like his employer, deer simply didn’t do blood.

But then he realized that perhaps this was a trap after all. It could always be that someone else had decided to step in. What if Chasing had been shoved aside? He’d never mentioned having any powerful compatriots or rivals, but Caballeron wasn’t so ignorant as to ignore the possibility. The items that stag dealt in were a lot more than mere trinkets, after all. Who knew what nefarious individuals in the world had him on their bad list?

The better question: did Chasing being on somepony’s bad list also put Caballeron on said list?

To walk away would be the smart thing. If he was fast and lucky, he could be on the next train to Equestria within the hour. If it turned out that his suspicions were wrong, he could always find some sort of excuse. And if not, so what? Chasing didn’t own him. They worked together, no more, and there were plenty of others who would pay Caballeron for the prizes he collected.

Caballeron turned from the door… and paused. He asked himself a question he’d not thought of in years: what would Silty have wanted? Would she have run away at the first sign of danger?

The devil in the back of his mind scowled at this unexpected intrusion of its domain. Caballeron didn’t blame him. The question had come out of nowhere. But then, she had a habit of doing that lately. He closed his eyes, remembering the last time he’d written to her. It had been right after… what was that filly’s name? He couldn’t say. He’d left her in a workhouse, where she could get three square meals a day and make an honest living until she found something to do with her life. Something legit.

That had been unusual. He normally would have disappeared like a phantom in the night, leaving the mare with naught but tangled sheets and a memory of his presence. But Silty… she’d pressed him that time, for whatever reason.

He was forgetting the current problem. Go, or investigate? He could almost swear that if he turned around now, he’d see Silty glaring at his backside. He glanced over his shoulder, feeling like a foal who’d been caught with his hoof in the cookie jar. The hall was empty.

The feeling didn’t go away.

The little devil within cursed up a storm. Caballeron declined the inclination to do so, preferring to go into danger silently. Anypony in the room would know he was entering, but he could at least pretend at an attempt at stealth. Lips tightly sealed and body tense in preparation, he slipped into Chasing’s office. The door remained open, just in case a hasty escape was needed.

Chasing’s office was spacious, to say the least. It rose up with four walls cornered by columns that the tree had been made to grow around, and the ceiling appeared as a four-cornered dome with vines and pine needle-covered limbs crisscrossing it. The effect always reminded him of a forest canopy, which was likely the intention. It had to be heck for the cleaning staff.

The far wall consisted of two windows that reached almost to the ceiling, but they were sealed behind massive red velvet curtains. The walls were covered in paintings and some of the more domestic artifacts of the world, showcasing their owner’s love for collectibles. Only one wall didn’t receive this treatment, but only because it was comprised of a vast bookshelf filled to bursting with old tomes. Chasing had once confided in Caballeron that he’d not read a single one; they were merely one more collection he possessed for the sake of having it.

All of this was shrouded in shadow. The only exception stood atop Chasing’s desk, nestled neatly between the two windows. Atop that sat what Caballeron knew to be a magic mirror of Equestrian make, used for long distance communication. The side facing him remained dark and empty, but a pale blue light glowed softly towards the opposite side. Against that lighting was a shadow of antlers that stretched tall and shifted lazily in the mirror’s ever changing aura. Even with the movement, the missing horn on the left side was a dead giveaway.

Caballeron eyed his surroundings, turning a slow circle. Seeing he was alone, he approached the desk, moving cautiously so as to make as little noise as possible. Upon reaching his destination, he hissed a sharp, “Chasing.” No response came. Flexing his shoulder for a moment, he stepped about the desk.

There was no deer. Only a pair of antlers, still attached to one another via a small piece of finely polished skull.

Caballeron closed his eyes and heaved a deep breath. He was no stranger to death, but to see some creature’s body put on display like this left him with a cold feeling. He felt no anger or guilt for Chasing’s apparent demise; he’d never really liked the stag, and was certain the feeling was mutual. To know he was gone, however… It left questions. Many, many questions.

He tried to put pieces together. Clearly, Chasing had been dead for a while. One did not remove a piece of skull so neatly, even giving it a polish job, without having a bit of time available. But if true, did that mean the staff he’d only just spoken to were in on it? They had behaved the same this visit as they always had, so either they’d been unawares of their master’s demise or were incredible actors. Having seen one or two of the plays around these parts, Caballeron was confident it wasn’t the latter.

His contemplation was interrupted by the door to the office closing. It didn’t slam, it merely eased shut. Even so, the event put him on alert once more. Turning his back to the nearest window, Caballeron moved away from the desk. If he needed to escape quickly, he’d rather a long fall than a charge through the dark.

“Please, Mr. Caballeron. There is no need for alarm.”

Male. Older, perhaps middle aged. None of that condescension that eternally defined deer. No, this was probably a pony. He took he room in slowly, looking for the source of the voice. At last he spotted him; a pegasus stallion by the bookshelf.

Turning to face the threat, Caballeron shook his legs one at a time, readying them for whatever action may await. “I don’t know you.”

“No, I’m afraid you don’t.” The pegasus stepped closer, but paused when Caballeron lowered to a defensive crouch. “I am no threat to you.”

“Tell that to him,” Caballeron countered, tilting his head towards the antlers on the desk.

“Ah, yes.” The pegasus, his colors difficult to make out in the shadows, smiled. It was charming, which only disturbed Caballeron more. “Merely a declaration. For your sake.”

Caballeron sniffed. “Declaration of what?”

Sitting beside the desk, the pegasus plucked the antlers from the desk. Using a wing to adjust the mirror a little closer towards himself, he studied the gruesome display, never losing his smile. “A declaration that you no longer have to worry about what Chasing wants in your little agreement. You’re free to pursue your own goals.”

“That’s stupid.” Caballeron snorted to emphasize the point. “The stag was already helping me do that.”

“We know, but he also had his own agenda. Not anymore.” Tucking the antlers under a wing, the pegasus brought his smile back to Caballeron. “It was decided by… a certain individual that Chasing-The-Green-Wind knew and had gathered too much. We’ve confiscated certain parts of his collection, parts you would be familiar with.”

The tension, which had eased over time, came back to Caballeron’s body in an instant. “And me? Do I know too much?”

The pegasus shook his head. “I wouldn’t worry about that. In fact, we would like to extend you an offer similar to the one you are already working on. You get all the same financial resources, a superior information network, and we’ll actually pay you. We are correct that Chasing merely paid for your needs?”

Clearly, this guy had an agenda of his own. In fact, it seemed this new player in the game was going to be worse than Chasing by miles. “I’m not inclined to work for somepony when I don’t even know their name.”

A wing flicked, and something flew in a slow, high arc. Caballeron caught it easily, his hoof snatching the object from the air on instinct. He felt his blood run cold; it was a medallion in the shape of a stylized sun. A very familiar sun at that. Nopony grew up in Equestria without recognizing the cutie mark of Princess Celestia.

“I trust that gives you an idea of the magnanimity of this offer.”

Caballeron’s hoof trembled, clutching the medallion so hard it may have cut into his hide. He looked to the pegasus, heart pounding. This isn’t happening. I never wanted to get involved with them. Anypony but them. “I’m l-less inclined to accept.”

The smile disappeared from pegasus’s face, replaced by a cold, emotionless stare. “Do you want Yearling or not?”

He took a step back, only for his rump to touch the curtains and the window behind them. “I… I can get her without you.”

“Can you? You’ve been doing a wonderful job so far.” This time, the pegasus’s smile was cocked and mocking. “She’s outrun you. Outwitted you. Outplanned you. Even her ethics are superior.”

“Ethics?” The sight of Yearling watching him dragged to a prison transport at the guard station in Estéril Pezuñas flared to mind, accompanied by a heat as the devil within him ignited. Only a supreme force of will kept him from lunging at the stallion. “Buck your ethics! You think she’s one of the good ponies? She’s a lying, scheming fiend with no thoughts towards anything but her financial and social glory! That bitch is going to pay for her crimes, and it will be by my hooves!”

The pegasus’s smirk only grew. “Yes, that’s worked out splendidly for you. Keep up the good work, mudpony.”

The little devil inside laughed even as Caballeron lunged. It didn’t laugh long.

Caballeron’s mind was just quick enough to recognize what was happening, but not quite fast enough to react to it. With a flare of wings, the pegasus drifted into the attack, moving sideways. It seemed as if he’d merely dodge, but then the knee of a hind leg rammed into Caballeron’s exposed stomach. Something cracked against the back of his skull an instant later, filling his vision with stars and sending him to the floor. The instant his face connected, Chasing’s antlers pierced the wood on either side of it. There was no use trying to stand, but he did anyway. The antlers held him down by the neck, not budging no matter how he pushed against the ground. He felt his stomach sink into the floor; he was a dead pony.

The pegasus’s voice snaked its way into his ear. “You see? This is what you gain working us. No more middling mercenaries who work based on their cut of the pay. No more having to go it alone when things get rough. You’ll have friends who are not just skilled at their jobs… but passionate about it.”

Even if the situation seemed dire, Caballeron felt his anger simmering once more. “I don’t need henchmen.”

The pegasus laughed in his ear. “As if an Archon would ever be your lacky! No, we pull the strings. Always.”

The antlers were jerked out of the floor. Caballeron stood, rubbing his neck where the skull had pressed against it. He didn’t turn around; he knew he was outclassed. Even so… “What happens if I say no?”

“You keep fumbling around in the dark,” the pegasus replied, tone light. “Who knows, maybe you’ll get lucky and catch Yearling before we’re forced to off her for getting in the way.”

As much as he hated to admit it, Caballeron doubted he could manage that. Losing Chasing meant losing his entire network. He couldn’t afford to keep that going, and even if he could, he didn’t have the mind for it. He specialized in solving puzzles and putting pieces together, but he had to have pieces to work with first. Without a strong list of contacts, he’d never keep up with Yearling.

But to work with the Archons…

The pegasus sighed. “Look. There are dozens of creatures we could turn to for this. They’d do it for half what we’re willing to pay you. But none of them have your experience and skill.”

Caballeron turned at last to study his shadowy companion. “None except Yearling.”

“True.” There it was, that infuriating smirk. The pegasus’s tail flicked as Caballeron growled. “She’s easily the best there is. But she’d never work for us. Morals are too… moral. Celestia has tasked us with getting the more dangerous artifacts out of circulation though, so she’s either got to cooperate or face the consequences.”

The pegasus raised Chasing’s antlers, examining them as one might a trophy. “We could have dealt with her already, but we thought she would sweeten the pot in your case. Unless, of course, you’ve had second thoughts about your revenge?”

Caballeron scowled as he considered the options before him. It certainly sounded like a good deal, which made him all the more suspecting. He’d never get a leg up on the Archons, but what possible information network could match them? He’d always have a head start on Yearling, and that idea alone made it worth examining the deal more closely. But then, he’d have Celestia’s bloodhounds constantly breathing down his neck. The very concept of working with the Archons struck him as little more than suicide, or at best a pact with Tirek.

Then again, does that really matter?

He’d already lost so much. His career, his reputation… Silty. He closed his eyes and could easily see her as her eyes rolled back in her head and she gasped her last breath. The image left him hollow, like an egg with no yolk. He’d lost so much, and if he worked with the Archons, surely he’d lose his life too. They’d keep him around so long as he was useful, but the moment they didn’t need him, what then?

But to get his vengeance…

At last he opened his eyes. “I want—”

“You want?” The pegasus’s tone held a dangerous edge as his eyelids lowered.

Caballeron ground his teeth to keep from snapping. “I want to be the one that brings Yearling down.”

“Oh.” The pegasus was all smiles once more. “That we can do. And here I thought you’d ask for something ridiculous. You want her? You can have her.” He offered his hoof. When Caballeron made no move to bump it, he shrugged and let it drop.

Ear twitching, Caballeron glanced around the dark room. Knowing it to be ridiculous, he still half expected there to be some contract he had to sign with his own blood or whatever. His inner demon found the idea amusing. His stomach roiled in protest of what he’d just tacitly agreed to, but he’d already committed himself. He needed a path to Yearling, and Chasing was no longer around to offer it. Better Celestia’s hounds than nothing.

“We’ll contact you in, say, a week. You’ll find a paycheck in your hotel room.”

Caballeron turned to ask something, but only darkness met his gaze. He took in as much of the room as he could, but found no sign of his new, unexpected ally. How could a pony disappear like that without magic?

The Archons. Never in Caballeron’s life had he imagined he’d be in league with them. Celestia might be the pinnacle of all that was good and holy in the world, but even goddesses had to defend the nation. Who was the Mane Archon now? They’d had a new one come along in recent years. Caballeron couldn’t remember the name, only that he was said to be even worse than his predecessor. Worse in what capacity, he had no idea, nor any inclination to find out.

The rabid demon that Celestia kept chained to her hoof, ready to destroy whatever she begrudgingly deemed necessary. That was who he worked for now, and the thought sent shivers down his spine. Even the devil within felt uneasy.

But he couldn’t back down.

“I’ll get you, Yearling,” he whispered in the dark. “Even if I have to sell my soul to do it.”

He tried so very hard not to think of Silty’s crestfallen face as he left the office.
> Book V - Cruelles Caballeron: Ghosts
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------



 Bored. 

I can’t describe how bored I am. What am I doing? Why am I even doing it anymore? 

I’ve thought about quitting for years. Yeah, I never got Yearling. Beat her to the buck once or twice. That’s good enough, isn’t it? I still want to kill her. I think. The idea just doesn’t excite me like it used to. 

I thought working for the Archons would be shit. It’s actually been a pretty smooth deal. Haven’t had to kill anypony in over a year. I grew to like some of my ‘helpers’ too. Surprisingly nice bunch, for violent ruffians (not that I have room to talk). Celestia help me, sometimes I even thought of them as friends. 

I’d forgotten. 

Then I read the newspaper this morning. An entire city put to the torch. They say the nilgiri just started slaughtering one another. I’m not so easily fooled as the masses though, and I’ve spent enough time around the Archons to know when something’s up. They did that. Somehow. 

An entire city. 

Shit. I don’t want to do this anymore. 

—Cruelles Caballeron, Book of Shadows XLVIII, 

April 24, 998 
Excerpt from personal diaries, translated from Palabras del Sur, June 16, 1007












July 13, C.Y. 1002  
Furlin, Germaney
 

A quiet, slow song played on the speakers above the bar. Caballeron didn’t understand a word of it, seeing as it was all in Germane. It sounded depressing though, which suited him just fine. He tapped the countertop, and within seconds the drab bartender was filling his mug with beer. 

It was quiet in the bar. No surprise, considering it was a weekday and fairly early in the afternoon. Caballeron hadn’t wanted to be around anypony anyway. He nursed his mug, the third one so far, and wondered how many he’d be able to get in today before he collapsed. Maybe if he kept going he’d get alcohol poisoning and die. Might make things interesting for a change. 

The front door opened. Caballeron didn’t look. Looking drew attention. He huddled on his barstool and stared at his mug, trying to convince himself to take another drink. 

To his frustration, the newcomer chose the stool on his left. A lost soul seeking companionship, perhaps. Caballeron was in no mood to help in such things. He took a sip of his beer and said nothing. Neither did his new companion. The bartender wandered over, asked the guest what they wanted. No vocal reply. Must have gestured. Whatever the case, the bartender left. 

Seconds turned to minutes. It seemed as if all Caballeron’s neighbor wanted to do was sit. If anything, that only made him fidget and wish he had Boomer with him. Who comes into a bar just to sit? This might be a problem, but Caballeron had plenty of experience dealing with problems. A one-on-one bar brawl would be a simple thing compared to what he'd dealt with before. 

Then, the pony did something that startled him out of all pre-combat planning: they spoke. It wasn’t the act of speaking that caught him off guard. It was the voice; gentle and sweet like the most decadent candy, with just the slightest hint of a Grypha accent to compliment the classy tone. 

“It appears you are going it alone today.” 

And she spoke near-perfect Equestrian. 

Slowly, Caballeron shifted his head to examine her with one eye. What he saw made his loins ache: a delicate white coat, a mane of silky pink, playful eyes of the softest violet, tall legs with fine musculature, and a sleek body the everyday runway model would sell her soul for. This wasn’t just a mare, this was a goddess of beauty. Even the devil in the back of his mind, usually gleeful at such a find, was stunned into silence. 

Caballeron chugged his beer and didn’t look again. 

“Whatever is the matter?” The mare giggled, a sound not unlike the tinkling of bells. “Never had a mare sit next to you in a bar?” 

“Never one like you.” He absolutely refused to look her way. The mare couldn’t be real. This kind of encounter just didn’t happen. That meant she was here for a reason. He’d been in too many bars and picked up too many mares at those bars to buy this situation. And it couldn’t be something simple like a gold digger, no; this was a pony who knew him. 

She gave a haughty ‘hmmph.’ “And here I thought the great Cruelles Caballeron was supposed to be a lady killer.” 

Now he looked. Body tense, breath slow and steady, he spoke. “I don’t know you.” 

She folded her forelegs on the bar and gave him a calm, blank look. It did nothing to detract from her beauty. When she replied, it was in perfect Palabras del Sur. “No, but we work for the same ponies.” 

Once again, his train of thought derailed. “They employed somepony like you?” 

“Meaning?” 

He frowned, examining her from hoof to substantial horn. “I didn’t think they employed ponies based on attractiveness.” 

Her lips curled into a smirk. “They didn’t. I first got involved when I was ten.” 

Caballeron stared at her, his mind trying to wrap around that claim. All he managed to get out was a dull “You’re joking.” 

“I’m afraid not.” She reached over, took his mug, and drained the last of it in one long gulp. Setting it aside, she wiped her lips daintily before adding, “I was found and trained by the Mane Archon himself. Fleur de Lis. A pleasure, I’m sure.” 

“I’m not.” He scooted a little away from her. He wasn’t sure if he could trust half the claims she was making, but he also knew better than to challenge them directly. “What do you want me to do?” 

“As direct as they say.” She turned to face him properly, and though her smile was as pleasant as nectar Caballeron suspected it to be hiding venom. “My boss’s boss wants something. Something so important that she had special... 'accommodations' made. You are going to get this item for her, and I am going to go with you.” 

Caballeron narrowed his eyes. “Why?” When she merely raised an eyebrow, he elaborated. “Why you? I’ve worked with a dozen of your ponies in the past. Ponies with all the skills I’ve ever needed. Why not give me the ponies I know instead of some stranger?” 

Fleur shrugged. “If I know her as well as I believe I do, then it’s likely a test. For me. For you. For my boss. I don’t need to know. All that’s important is that she wants this item badly, and she wants you and me to work together to get it.” 

He studied her for some time, trying to detect some kind of deceit. He found nothing but her pleasant smile. She had to have been a master at poker. He didn’t like the circumstances at all… but he wasn’t about to say no, not to an order from the Princess herself. 

“What’s the item?” 

Her smile broadened. “Ever heard of the Alicorn Amulet?”





Caballeron stared at the image in his hooves. It was a pencil drawing, all in greys and yellows, depicting something between a mansion and a fortress. It featured two towers at the corners of a wide wall, with a third tower just visible in the background. It was situated among dry rock with what appeared to be a cliff in the background. Caballeron had never seen this particular image, and that alone indicated its importance. The structure was familiar enough though, and his hooves shook at the understanding of the opportunity he was being given. 

He looked across the dining table to Fleur de Lis, who ate her Seapetal Stew with delicate sips. The two of them were in a hotel suite, a far grander locale than any Caballeron had been able to stay at before. The place had three bedrooms, two baths and a stunning view of one of Furlin’s many lakes. The table was pristine, varnished rosewood, the magilights hidden in shimmering crystal chandeliers, and the molding on the walls might have been real silver. 

None of it meant anything in comparison to the framed piece of paper in his hooves. “Giulgiul’s Shame. You’ve actually found it?” 

Fleur took a moment to dab at her lips with a napkin. “Not quite. It was never lost.” She took in his furrowed brow with the regal, aloof manner she’d adopted since they’d left the bar. “We’ve always known where Giulgiul’s Shame was. It was decided by a higher power that it should remain hidden.” 

“A higher power.” He snorted and set the image down on the corner of the table, albeit very gently. “I imagine that translates to the highest power?” 

Fleur nodded. “The highest.” 

Grumbling, Caballeron took a sip of the stew before him. He had to admit, it was very good. And an unpleasant reminder of home. No doubt Fleur knew Seapetal Stew was a specialty of Equestria’s southern coastline, and had probably meant for it to make him comfortable. Then again, maybe it was some form of psychological torture… 

Despite his misgivings, he couldn’t resist the flavors. How he missed Estéril Pezuñas. 

After a few spoonfulls, he looked upon his host. “Why would Celestia want to keep Giulgiul’s Shame hidden?” 

Fleur studied her soup in contemplative silence before responding. “Celestia is harder to understand than most ponies know, but also easier than they realize. To be honest, I do not know the exact why. All I know is that she’s decided she wants the Alicorn Amulet for her own purposes, and we’ve been given the task of retrieving it.” 

“Huh.” Caballeron took a look around at the tall ceilings, amazing view and perfectly groomed servant waiting by the door to the kitchen. “Maybe my eyes are deceiving me, but you do not exactly look like the type who goes gallivanting into jungles looking for ancient artifacts in dangerous tombs.” 

She flashed him a pearly smile, the kind of smile that would have made him weak in the knees ten years ago. “Your eyes do not deceive you. I am a city pony; I attend parties on the elbow of snobby nobles and spend my days trotting across fashion runways, and while the prince is freshening up thinking he’s about to get lucky, I’m slipping out the window with enough dirt in my hooves to destroy his entire family. Simply stuff, really.” 

Caballeron scoffed. “Are you trying to scare me or impress me?” 

“Neither.” She flicked her mane and returned to her stew. “I am merely acknowledging the fact that this kind of mission is not at all normal for me.” 

“Then why would the Mane Archon assign you to do it?” He leaned forward to peer at her. “Why not send the guys I’m used to working with?” 

“You’ve asked that once already.” Fleur sighed and dropped her spoon. She looked him in the eyes, and this time the cool, regal look was gone. In its place was thoughtful uncertainty. “On the surface, I’d say they thought you would appreciate working with a mare of my…” She smirked. “Caliber.” The frown returned and she shook her head. “But that makes no sense. You’ve never had a problem working with the others, and I would think the opportunity to ‘discover’ Giulgiul’s Shame alone would have been enough to get you onboard, pay or no pay.” 

He smiled at the idea, already imagining the moment he set hoof inside the long lost ruin, said to be the former home of a mighty alicorn prince. For the first time in years, Caballeron felt genuinely excited about a job. “There’s no way I can argue that.” 

Fleur continued, drawing him out of his momentary reverie. “As such, the only conclusion I can come to is that I’m being sent out of my comfort zone as part of a test.” 

He leaned back and eyed the pearly ceiling. “A test. So what does that make me, the tester?” 

Her tone became as serious as the grave. “Do you want my honest answer?” 

When he looked down, it was to see her watching him with a heavy-lidded, hard expression. “Of course.” 

She steepled her hooves, partially hiding her face behind them. She studied him for a time, seeming to think on her answer. “I’ve been through a lot, Cruelles. In the time I’ve been an Archon, I’ve come to understand a bit about how these things work. You and me? We were chosen for a very specific reason. I promise you, as sure as the sun will rise in the morning, that neither of us will like that reason.” 

“I see.” Caballeron didn’t see, not really, but he had a good enough image to know that there was no point in pressing the matter. “So this team up is bad news for both of us, then.” 

“Most likely.” She drank some wine and held her glass out; the servant hurried to refill it without looking hurried at all. “But I’ve learned to roll with it. These kinds of jobs come along once every year or so. The only question is who will be the target next.” 

The casual way she spoke enticed his curiosity. “And have you been targeted before?” 

She stared at him for a moment, expression blank. Her response came in a perfectly even tone. “Once. Maybe twice.” Another sip of her refilled wine. “I think it best we talk about the job now, don’t you?” 

He grunted and shoved his bowl away. “Fine, if you’re so determined to dodge, but I’ll be bringing this up again.” He tapped the frame of the picture. “Giulgiul’s Shame. Where is it?” 

“Ever heard of the Uvres Marshes?” 

He frowned, trying to sort through the vast amounts of geography stored in his brain. “That’s in… Mongolia, right? Strange, that’s about a thousand miles off from where everypony thought it was.” 

“Naturally.” Fleur waved a dismissive hoof. “Celestia had the Archons plant false evidence centuries ago.” 

His back went straight and his ears perked. “What? There are archeologists who made entire careers hunting for that place. You mean Longue Étape’s entire life was one big lie?” 

Fleur stood and walked towards the window. Her empty bowl was quickly taken by the servant. “She lived a long and fulfilling life, according to her memoirs. Yes, her studies were based on lies, but she never knew that.” 

Stew sloshed from his bowl when he slammed his hoof on the table. “That doesn’t make it okay!” 

“True.” Fleur gazed out at the moonlit lake, her face hidden from view. “But it is not our place to question.” 

“No, you are all Celestia’s obedient little lapdogs, aren’t you?” Picking the picture back up, he scowled as he studied it. “What does this amulet do that it would scare her so much?” 

Fluer cast him a one-eyed glance. “Scared? The princess is not scared of the Alicorn Amulet. She merely saw no reason to move it. It was safe and protected where it was, and she had no use for it.” She raised a hoof to her chin and returned to gazing out the window. “At least, that’s my theory.” 

“Whatever the reason is, I don’t like it.” 

“You don’t have to like it.” Fleur turned to give him a solemn look, her regal mask back on her face. “You just have to do it.” With that, she moved for the door. “I have some reports to write. Feel free to stay the night in one of the guest rooms. Tomorrow we can plan our trip. Good evening, Mr. Caballeron.” 

He watched her go. When the door closed, he cast his eye on the servant. “What are you waiting for, an invitation? Get out of here.” 

The servant raised his muzzle with a derogatory sniff before walking over. He reached for Caballeron’s bowl of stew. 

“I’m not done with that.” 

The servant’s eye twitched. He stepped back, gave what may have been the smallest bow an equine body could physically produce, and left. Caballeron waited until the door closed before taking another look at the picture. 

Giulgiul’s Shame. Just the question of who Giulgiul was could keep linguists and archeologists busy for their entire lives. War hero, villain, traitor, philanthropist, archmage, necromancer, all had been accredited to him by one pony or another. Caballeron knew that he’d never be able to go back into legitimate archeology, but it didn’t matter. Giulgiul’s Shame was one of those mystifying pipe dreams that all archeologists dreamed of finding, even the ones who didn’t believe it existed. It was like… like… 

Pawtlopotl. It was like Pawtlpotl. 

Caballeron’s heart jumped into his throat. His hooves shook, his breath came in gasps. Gradually, he put the picture down. Could he do this? Risk such disappointment, such shame? If Silty were here, she’d… 

The little demon in the back of his head, having long settled in, threw a tantrum at the thought of the one pony that might dare threaten its domain. Caballeron was tempted to smash the picture, and everything else in this damnable hotel room. He might go in there and show that ignorant filly just how much of a ‘lady killer’ he could be! They would do this to him again, drag him into the misery and pain and foolishness just like that? Just like that? 

He was halfway to the door when he slowed to a stop. He thought of Fleur, how young she was. How… pretty. She looked as if she might have been Silty’s age when… 

Shaking his head, Caballeron stomped for the window. The thought had been a dumb one. Fleur looked nothing like Silty! Where did that even come from? 

But still, as he stared at his reflection in the glass, he felt his anger smothering. He reached for it, tried to hug it close, but it melted away in a flood of misery. Groaning, he pressed his forehead to the cool pane. “Silty… This isn’t like the others. I’ve been to so many little tombs and temples, but they were minor things. Common. Known. This… This is like what we should have had. Why does it have to be that pretty prancing unicorn flower instead of you? You could appreciate this for what it is.” 

His reflection offered no answer. So he just stood there, letting the pane of glass warm up. 

He almost swore he saw familiar pink eyes watching over his shoulder.






July 20, C.Y. 1002  
Irmegdex, Mongolian Khanate
 

There were few places that Caballeron could say he’d never been to before. The Mongolian Plateau was one of them. It stretched out before him, green plains with low hills of varied degrees of steepness. There were no trees that he could see, but grass was abundant, and the tribe Fleur and he had spent the night at had converted the area into farmland.  For the most part, the landscape was flat, almost to the point of being dreadfully dull. 

The natives weren’t much better. They were true horses, like the Gallopeans, but possessed shorter and broader statures. Really, Caballeron had seen a pony or two of similar size. If he hadn’t known better, he’d have accused them of being ponies with inferiority complexes, but since they were all of a similar size – disturbingly so – he had to assume they really were a specific breed. 

And their color. So drab. Dull browns, slate greys, the occasional chalky white, and most dabbled with spots of blacks, browns and oranges. They certainly didn’t appeal to Caballeron’s senses. Heck, he had trouble distinguishing the mares from the stallions! 

He stood outside their rented hut. What was the local term for these things? Gers? Not a bad structure, assuming one was fine sharing a single room. Fleur certainly didn’t have a problem with it. He wouldn’t dare touch the apprentice to the Mane Archon, not like that. Unfortunately, Fleur knew this and seemed to find teasing him a great source of entertainment. There was a time when he wouldn’t have hesitated, but now her constant toying with him only left him bitter. 

Which was why he was sitting outside their ger so early in the morning. Fleur had been honest about the city pony thing, and was currently going through the frustrating, time-consuming process of ‘readying herself,’ as she liked to call it. Stay in there and the blasted mare might ask him to brush her tail for her, or perhaps groom the coat hairs on her back. She’d done both at different times on this trip. Goddess, but that playful tone she took on grated on his nerves. 

Part of him longed to take advantage of the situation. With how often she put on the charm, he couldn’t help wondering if she really would let him go all the way for the fun of it. She was an Archon, after all; why would he expect ponies with no moral compasses to be prudish? Then again, he might try it and end up on his back… and not in the pleasant way. He wouldn’t put it past her to offer little more than a cruel bait-and-switch. 

Did he even want to? A whole week of travel with the mare, and he still couldn’t help wondering how he would feel afterwards. Probably like he had after every other mare. There’d been so many other mares… 

The flap over the door of the ger opened, and Fleur stepped out. She was as radiant as ever, to his consternation. “Good morning, Cruelles!” She gave him a cheerful smile as she pranced out into the grass. “You’re so cold, refusing to help a lady when she needs it. Do you know how hard it is to get the tail combed just right without a mirror?” She waggled her hips, her tail swaying tantalizingly. 

He snorted. “You ready to go, princess?” 

With a pout, she flicked her mane and trotted further into the small village. “After I get some fresh breakfast. After all, this will be our last opportunity before we reach our destination.” 

He couldn’t argue her point, and so followed along. She always seemed so happy in public. Even now, though she didn’t understand a word these horses spoke, she always smiled and greeted the Mongolians as she passed. And they smiled back every time, charmed by her bubbly personality, pretty voice and lithe figure. Caballeron suspected the mare could charm a hoard from a dragon if she wanted to. 

It was all a ruse. There were moments, few and fleeting, when she’d slow down. Like when they’d met in the bar, or how she acted when they first discussed the mission over dinner in her hotel suite. Out in view of the general public, however, she seemed to take on a singular persona: naïve, happy and bouncy. Not necessarily in that order. Back when he worked for Chasing, he’d wear mares like that as an accessory and for exercise. To think, a mare who looked and acted like that was capable of slicing his throat in his sleep. 

Deep down, the idea terrified him.   

While he’d been lost in his thoughts, Fleur had found their translator. He’d been shocked she’d needed one, having already heard her speak fluent Equestrian, Germane, Gryphan and Palabras del Sur, and he was pretty sure he’d heard her murmuring in Fancy once. He supposed even an Archon couldn’t do everything though. The translator, also the guide who brought them to the village, was always enamored with the pretty pony, and he was more than happy to help them purchase some buuz, which they’d learned last night was a sort of dumpling. Fleur bought enough from the local vendor to feed them for several days, and Caballeron wasn’t about to complain; the things were vastly superior to the travel packets they’d brought with them, at least in taste. 

Once they’d each packed an equal number of the dumblings, they asked their guide about the Uvres Marshes. As before, he turned pallid and adamantly refused to say anything about it. He was talking in rapid Gryphan, so Caballeron had to take him at face value. 

Whatever he was saying as he stormed away, it gave Fleur pause. She watched the horse go with an uncertain frown. 

“What?” Caballeron looked from her to the retreating Mongolian. “What did he say?” 

She cocked her head to the side, ears flicking. “He said he was tired of mares asking about the marshes.” 

Caballeron’s blood ran cold. There had been nothing concrete, but there didn’t need to be: he knew. His voice felt like gravel in his throat. “Which way?” 

“Cruelles—” 

“Which way do we go?” 

She raised an eyebrow at him. “North by northwest.” 

Pivoting on his hind legs, he headed in the identified direction at a quick trot. He seethed at the audacity of fate, putting him in this position. His first chance in thirteen years, and that bitch was set to rob him of a glorious moment again. What were the odds that she would be looking for the same thing, have arrived at roughly the same time? By Nightmare Moon’s purple ass, the bitch could already be there, putting her dirty hooves all over his ruins! 

“Cruelles!” Fleur was at his side, waving a hoof in his face. “What’s gotten into you? Why the rush?” 

He ground his teeth and glared straight ahead, not slowing in his relentless march out of the village. “It’s Yearling. She’s here. I’m not letting her win. Not this time. This time, she dies.” 

“Yearling?” It took a moment, but comprehension finally dawned on her face. She gave him a dull frown, her ears folding back. “You’re basing that off of a single comment? Cruelles, there’s no way to—”

Whipping his head around, he snarled in her face. “Did you know? Is this some fucked up Archon plot? If you knew about this, I swear to Celestia—” 

She hissed in his ear with a startling amount of force given her earlier demeanor. “Get a hold of yourself. No, I didn’t know and don't even think you're right. But if you are, why are you complaining? Hasn’t it been your goal for the last decade to kill her? Here you go. Here’s another shot. Stop whining and take it.” 

He bit his tongue to keep his retort in check. His mental demon was clawing the walls in a desperate bid to escape and do some damage, but steadily, Caballeron reined it in. He met Fleur’s glare and considered her words. “You really didn’t know?” 

She huffed. “You don’t even know that stallion was talking about Daring Do in the first place, but for the sake of argument let’s assume he was. No, I didn’t know. However…” She glanced away, and her scowl faded to a brooding but thoughtful frown. “I wouldn’t put it past my superiors to have made… ‘arrangements’.” 

“And what does that mean?” 

“It means somepony in the Archons might have known.” She glanced at him and sighed. “Would you slow down? You’re going to exhaust us both long before nightfall at this pace.” 

He didn’t. At least, not at first. A few minutes passed as they trotted, her mumbling and sulking as he glared straight ahead. Yet, in time, logic and experience won out, and he eased his pace… albeit only so much as he deemed necessary. The very idea of Yearling exploring his ruins had the demon inside sharpening its claws. 

They had to get to Giulgiul’s Shame as quickly as they could.





“Why are you so upset?” 

Caballeron raised his eyes from the small fire. Fleur, nestled deep in her sleeping bag, watched him over the flames. Perhaps he should have been upset by the query, but all he felt was a dull annoyance. Even his inner devil couldn’t bother to take interest. “Don’t you already know?” 

Shaking her head, she replied, “I know what happened between the two of you. That doesn’t explain your worries now. Why would you think she’s ‘stealing’ your find?” 

He stared at her for a time, then turned his attention back to the flames. 

Fleur sighed. “Come on, Cruelles. Talk to me! We’ve been stuck together for a week now, and we’ve got more than that to go. Aren’t you the least bit interested in getting acquainted?” 

“Not with Archons.” 

She raised her head, ears flicking against the cool wind that blew over the already chilly plateau. “That’s not what Clammy said in his report.” 

He grunted and said no more. 

Rather than dissuade her, the act seemed only to make her more interested. Fleur tapped her chin, eyes set upon the stars, and spoke in a playfully thoughtful tone. “How did it read? Ah, yes: ‘A hard exterior marred by a secret desire to know companionship, which leads to him inevitably warming up to those he works around over time.’ There was more, if you’d like me to go on.” 

Goddess, but she could be annoying when she wanted to be! “I’m not interested in making friends with you, alright?” 

“And why not?” She leaned forward to study him with what appeared to be genuine interest. “Because I don’t know as much about archeology as the other Archons you’ve worked with?” 

“No.” 

“Because my rank intimidates you?” 

“No.” 

“Because you have to share the find of Giulgiul’s Shame with me?” 

“No!” 

“Because you’re too grumpy for your own good?” 

“I don’t need another Silty in my life!” 

He had jumped to his hooves. Steam billowed from his nostrils as he glared at her startled face and his shoulders were tensed for a pounce. For a moment, he thought about going through with the attack. His little demon would be grateful for the distraction. 

But then he realized just what he was doing, and the anger bled out like steam from a valve. He slumped to his barrel and sighed. “Just… leave me alone.” 

For a time, it seemed as though she’d honor that request. But then, to his frustration, she spoke quietly over the crackle of the flames. “I apologize. All this time I’d been teasing you. You had a reputation as a tail chaser, so I never thought you’d look at it in such a way.” 

“That’s not—” He found her staring at her hooves. Was that remorse real, or just another one of her acts? She was capable of so many masks, there could be no telling. But if she was faking it… well, she’s was doing an amazing job. 

He exhaled a long breath and shook his head. “Look, I don’t know what you’re expecting from me. All I know is that I can’t grow attached to another mare, even in a platonic way. I’ve had my fill of loss.” 

A perfect eyebrow rose. “Are you suggesting that I would die to just any old threat?” 

“It doesn’t matter how the loss occurs,” he replied distantly. “A loss is a loss.” 

She cocked her head and pursed her lips in thought. “You never had such reservations with the other Archons who have worked with you in the past. Mares included, so I know it’s not that.” 

“They weren’t…” Words eluded him. He couldn’t be sure what he wanted to say, much less what he was supposed to. If only this conversation would end. 

She leaned forward once more, even as her ears folded back. “Do I remind you of her? Silt Eyes?” 

He would have scoffed were he not feeling so miserable. Settling for a snort, he replied, “You’re white… mostly. And a unicorn. And tall. Other than that, you don’t look anything like her. She had a much larger build. A brown mane.” He closed his eyes, and suddenly she was there, smiling at him. “Silty was a rugged pony. Strong, and smarter than she believed. Tenacious. Excitable.” 

The corners of his lips curled up as he spoke, and he could feel a certain floating sensation in his chest. How clearly she appeared in his mind's eye, as if she'd been standing before him all this time. “She wasn’t the most attractive pony. I knew some stallions who thought I was an idiot for wasting time with her. But it wasn’t a waste. Not a single minute was a waste.” 

Even the devil, in an uncharacteristic showing of respect, refused to lash out against his musings. “She loved the life. Loved the job. She was never so happy, so… so brilliant than when she was in the dirt, sweating in the desert sun over a single piece of pottery most ponies would think of as junk. When she got into her element, my Big Girl shined brighter than the full moon.” 

His words drifted into the night, and his mind’s eye lingered on Silty’s smiling face. He’d not seen her so well in years, and she was perfect. More perfect than he recalled. In that moment, he couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, she’d have forgiven him everything. That he could have walked up to her and held her, and she’d laugh and threaten to kick his flank for getting too grabby. 

And then she’d hold him too, and tell him everything was okay. Pawtlpotl didn’t bother her. The mares that he’d toyed with didn’t bother her. The lives he’d taken didn’t bother her. If he’d just give up this stupid journey for revenge, that would be all she’d need. And he would… 

He would… 

The high faded. He was back in his sleeping bag, on the cold plateau of Mongolia, lying by a campfire. Despite the heat of the flames, a chill entered his bones. He curled the sleeping bag a little more tightly around his withers and sighed. 

Then he remembered that he wasn’t alone. Fleur watched him with a soft smile, the firelight shifting in her eyes. “You loved her very much, didn’t you?” 

“And I lost her.” He snorted and looked away, out into the endless plateau. “That’s it. That’s all there is.” 

She was quiet for a time. “I think I get it.” 

“Good for you.” Adamantly refusing to look at her, he nonetheless had to ask. “Get what?” 

“The frustration. The mares you leave behind after one night stands. Why you avoided talking to me.” A pause. “Why you’re so afraid.” 

His gut clenched, and he almost rejected her last statement. Somehow, he managed to stop himself. But he couldn’t keep the bite out of his voice. “So, Dr. Sickmend Faust, what’s the prognosis?” 

She turned her gaze to the fire. “I think you chase the pretty mares because you long for the closeness you lost, and leave them behind because you think if you get too close you’ll get hurt all over again.” 

He closed his eyes, only to see Silty there. That same wonderful, adorable smile on her comforting face. His chest ached at the sight, even as he recalled so many mares. Or… the ‘presence’ of them. Could he remember a single face? 

“You’re wrong,” he whispered. “They didn’t mean anything to me. Not a one of them.” 

“But they could have. And that’s what scares you, I believe.” 

He took a few long, calming breaths. He felt as though he should be angry at her. He wanted to be angry. But the fire wouldn’t come. His inner demon, as if cowed by some unseen force, skulked in the back of his mind and ignored his halfhearted prodding. Perhaps it was because of how much his heart burned at the moment. He looked to that image of Silty. The way her ears were folded back, and how her eyes shined like stars, and how sad her little smile was. He silently begged her to come closer, to tell him Fleur was wrong, to make him better. 

But she did none of those things. She was little more than a ghost, a figment of his fractured mind. No help would come, but not for a lack of want. 

Fighting the tears in his eyes, Caballeron curled into his sleeping bag, back to Fleur. “You don’t know a damn thing about me.”
> Book V – Cruelles Caballeron: Giulgiul's Shame
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------





You know what the single most awkward thing in the world is?

Getting what you want and not knowing what to do with it afterwards.

—Cruelles Caballeron, Book of Shadows XLVIII,

July 27, 1002

Excerpt from personal diaries, translated from Palabras del Sur, June 16, 1007












July 26, C.Y. 1002 
 Uvres Marshes, Mongolia


The marshes were a peculiar place. They existed in what amounted to a massive hole in the middle of the Mongolian Plains, at the center of which was a lake. There was no river to the lake, inflowing or outflowing, nor was there another source of water for at least a hundred mile radius. In every conceivable way, the marshes were normal – right down to the cragodiles – except that they were in a place where no marshes would be expected to exist.

That, of course, made it a fascinating subject for Caballeron. As he walked through knee-deep water covered in green algae and surrounded by marsh grass, he pondered once more the nature of the place. Perhaps it was an impact crater from an astronomical body, sort of like Crater Lake in the Badlands was purported to be. The caldera of an extinct volcano seemed no less plausible. He didn’t rule out some sort of glacial formation created millions of years ago, but it didn’t strike him as a likely culprit. And of course, there was always something less natural; perhaps the alicorn prince who supposedly once lived here had done it for some unknowable reason. It could even be damage from a magical conflict before recorded history.

An unsubtle growl reminded him that he was the only one enjoying this outdoors adventure. Fleur fought to free her rear leg from the muck beneath the shallow water. Her coat glistened with moisture, at least the parts that didn’t have globs of clinging algae and slime on it. Her mane hung down the side of her face, still dripping as the end of it dragged in the still waters, and her tail fared even worse. She glared at her hind leg as if she intended to bite it off if it didn’t start cooperating.

Caballeron kept form smirking. Barely. “Do you need some help?”

“What I would like,” she hissed through gritted teeth, “is to get the buck out of this swamp.”

“Marsh.”

“Do not pester me with semantics!” Straining and cursing, she gave her leg a long, strong pull. After several seconds in which Caballeron feared she might hurt something, she finally came free. The sudden motion sent her splashing forward; she just barely managed to catch herself before she could land face-first in the water. She stood stark still, her chin raised high beneath wide eyes that stared at the liquid as if it might lash out at her at any second.

Once she had her balance, she stood up properly and pushed her thoroughly re-soaked mane back over her shoulder. Her gaze could have sublimated dry ice. “Not a word.”

He opened his mouth, only to click his teeth when her eyebrows lowered and her horn sparked. It was nothing short of a miracle that he managed to avoid grinning until his face was safely turned away.

“And wipe that smile off your face!”

He didn’t, although he did question how she knew.

They continued, him in silence and her grumbling and fuming. He had to question just what it was that made her boss think she’d be good for a job like this. At least her difficulties amused him, even if he felt a little sympathetic. It would be one thing if she’d come here of her own volition expecting to conquer the marshes with ease, but she’d been ordered to go and not once indicated that she expected it to be easy. She certainly hadn’t looked enthusiastic when they’d stood at the edge of the valley gazing upon the cold, wet landscape.

Good for her, then, that their destination was so easy to find. That was another mystery. The Uvres Marshes were not all that big; one could see all corners of it from any spot within. This also made Giulgiul’s Shame easily identifiable from the higher plateau when they arrived. It stood out like a sore hoof on the western edge of the lake, a triangular shape overgrown with vegetation.

Caballeron had been so excited upon first spotting it. In truth, he was still excited, but the reality of approaching such a legendary place gradually dwindled in his mind to ‘other’ realities. Things weren’t adding up, and that made him gradually more wary as they approached the structure in the distance.

At last, his anxiety could take no more. “Fleur?”

“What?”

He winced, but didn’t take offense to her aggressive tone. “Celestia wants this place kept secret, right?”

Fleur grumbled for a bit, and he thought at first she wouldn’t answer. She finally gave a clipped “Yes.”

He glanced back at her, no longer finding her miserable countenance amusing. “Giulgiul’s Shame isn’t exactly hidden. Anypony who comes around here would be able to see it, so how did Celestia keep random explorers and traders from stumbling upon it?”

Though her scowl remained in place, Fleur paused in her quiet snarling and appeared to think on the question. “She mentioned something about a gemology illusion. Something to hide the manor from prying eyes even though it is in plain view.”

“That sounds an awful lot like mechanism that hid the Drake Lance in the Spurbardin Ruins.” He eyed her curiously. “Isn’t gemology one of your strong suits?”

She snorted as she flicked some slime off her hoof. “I’m a Gemcraft Supremacist.”

Caballeron froze, his ears shooting up. “Supremacist? But I thought you said you were an Illusions Master.”

“I am,” she replied, finally walking past him at her slow, clumsy gait.

He sputtered, mind failing to wrap around this new bit of news. “That’s… incredible.”

She didn’t so much as glance back at him, her limp tail dragging along in the muck behind her. “Not doing me much good now, is it?”

He watched her go, his brain gradually coming to terms with the power that probably existed in that mare’s horn. Not for the first time, he wondered if its unusually large size had anything to do with it. Unicorns always denied that size had anything to do with magical potential, but he never knew for sure if they were just saying it out of envy for ponies like Fleur. He followed after her, feeling a new sense of respect for his partner. Why hadn’t she mentioned such a thing before?

The subject disappeared from his mind as he refocused his attention on Giulgiul’s Shame. “So… the illusion’s broken?”

Fleur’s dull voice made her disinterest blatant. “It would seem so.”

He narrowed his eyes, attempting to see any signs of life at the distant mansion. Nothing moved, but he found no comfort in this. He sped to a trot, soon catching up to Fleur. “Can you pick up the pace?” Despite his eagerness, he made sure to keep his tone inquisitive rather than demanding.

“If I want another face full of this mierda, sure.” She sniffed and kept her scowl aimed at Giulgiul’s Shame. “I’d rather not have a repeat of that incident, thank you.” When he said nothing to this, she cast a dark look his way. “You’re thinking she broke the illusion?”

“Yearling is intelligent. Resourceful. Skilled.” He growled and shook his mane. “Even without a horn, I’ve no doubt she could do it with time, and we’ve no idea how much of a head start she’s got on us.”

“You’re assuming she’s there at all.”

“She is.” The little devil in the back of his mind was sharpening his claws. “I know it. And she’s already in there. If we move quick enough, we can corner her inside.”

Fleur’s lips formed a thin line as she turned her gaze back to the ever-growing structure. By now it was about the size of Caballeron’s hoof. At their current pace, he suspected they’d arrive within the hour. “How can you be sure she hasn’t already left?”

“She got here by the same town we did. She’ll go back the same way. We’d have run into her by now if that were the case, assuming she didn't spot us first and circle around.”

A moment of quiet, interrupted only by the sloshing water that had risen to just below his barrel. Fleur broke the stillness once more. “And if she knows we are coming?”

“Why would she?” He shook his head. “She has no reason to believe that, especially since she’s ahead of us.”

He could feel her eyes boring into the side of his head. When he finally glanced at her, all her anger and frustration had faded. In its place was an expression of utmost seriousness. “What if the Archons told her?”

He paused. The little devil stopped sharpening its claws to pay close attention. His voice came out slow and hollow. “Are you confessing to something?”

“No.” She didn’t look away, her brow furrowing as she met his glare. “But I know Celestia well enough to know the kind of games she plays. I wouldn’t put it past her to order my boss to let the information slip into her hooves. A convenient… accident.”

A long study of her features revealed no deception. That didn’t mean much given her performances so far, but he almost felt that she was being honest with him. “What would something like that earn for her?”

“Humor,” Fleur replied without hesitation.

He felt his eyebrow twitch. “Does she not know what Yearling’s presence would mean to me?”

“You clearly don’t understand Celestia’s brand of humor.” Fleur continued her slow, stumbling way forward.

Caballeron snorted and moved to keep at her side. “I’ve never been one to fully buy the ‘perfect sun princess’ image the PR teams keep cooking all day every day, but your suggestions of her character seem extreme.”

“If that’s what you think,” Fleur muttered, her lip curling back in a grimace, “you really don’t understand Celestia’s brand of humor.”

She said nothing more, leaving Caballeron to smother in his black thoughts.









The marshes hadn’t spared Giulgiul’s Shame from a watery fate. The old image Caballeron had been shown depicted the mansion as standing atop a raised stone platform. If that were true, then the entirety of that platform was now submerged, along with nearly half of the first floor. He and Fleur had been forced to swim to reach the west doors. Fortunately, it had been only a few minutes of paddling. Unfortunately, the brief trip did nothing to help Fleur’s mood.

Even partially submerged, the mansion was a sight to behold. Made of what appeared to be stone – limestone, perhaps? – it stood at what Caballeron guessed to be five stories. He knew from the view on the plateau that the structure was triangular in shape, with each of the three walls sporting an identical entrance. The wall before them stretched for hundreds of feet to their left and right, and each stone block was roughly half as tall as Caballeron himself, although they seemed to become smaller as the elevation increased.

Much of the manor was covered in green algae and vines, and large chunks of the masonry had crumbled over the centuries. This did nothing to lessen Caballeron’s awe as his paddling hooves finally touched down upon solid stone. As he moved forward to shallower waters, it abruptly dawned upon him that he was standing upon ground untouched by ponies for a thousand, perhaps even thousands of years.

His legs began to wobble. His heart pattered in his chest like a hummingbird and a smile slowly grew on his lips. “My Goddess. Silty… I’m… I’m standing upon the entryway of Giulgiul’s Shame. If only you could have been here…”

Fleur appeared at his side, her legs spread and her mane flat against her face. “Do you need a moment?” Her voice had been little more than a growl, but subdued enough that he guessed her intention sincere.

Caballeron closed his eyes and saw Silty once more. Except… this time she appeared sad. Why? Because she wasn’t really here? Or something else?

His eyes opened once more, settling upon the empty doorway. Whatever doors had once filled that space, they were gone now. Victims of the ravages of time, no doubt. What kind of wood would they have used? There were so many questions to be answered, and all he had to record anything was that journal he’d not looked at in months. It would have to do. Maybe, if he could convince some old colleagues, he could—

“Cruelles.”

He shook himself, the brief bout of fantasy slipping away like a coy maiden. He found Fleur watching him with a lips pursed and menace in her eyes. “Uh… sorry?”

She turned away with a groan. “No, I am. I get this is a dream come true for you, Cruelles. I’m just not in my element right now. It’s making me…”

“Snippy?”

A wince. “I would have said bitchy.”

Caballeron raised an eyebrow. “That doesn’t sound like a ‘Fleur de Lis’ thing to say.”

With a sniff, she raised a sopping leg to point at the entrance. “We have a job to do. I wanted to give you the privilege of entering first, but if you don’t shut up and move I’ll start taking my frustrations out on you.”

That was more than enough to get him walking; he didn’t want to imagine what she could do to him if she really put her mind to it. Even so, he slowed at the entryway. It wasn’t as large as he’d imagined, though still taller and wider than the average door. Sized for an alicorn, perhaps? He grinned at the thought; if half the legends were true, this could be a veritable treasure trove of magical artifacts!

But Caballeron curbed his excitement in order to proceed slowly. It was as much in reverence for this ancient place as it was wariness of what he may stumble into. Leaders of the distant past had an odd propensity for putting deathtraps in places like this. He’d always imagined it to be counterproductive. And even if that didn’t prove the case, the crumbling architecture made it clear that caution should be the order of the day.

He passed through the columned doorway. Now inside one of the great secrets of the ancient world, he felt his breath leave him at the sight of a massive entryway at least two stories tall, composed entirely of the same limestone material. The marshes hadn’t been kind to the place; anything that might have once been decoration had rotted away long ago. But that mattered little to Caballeron as he gazed upon no less than four staircases leading to untold mysteries in the darkness. He spun a small circle, taking in the algae-coated walls with their decorative pillars. Overhead, three windows allowed sunlight to filter in, dimly illuminating the great hall.

Fleur sloshed her way through the door, glancing around with folded hears and a dull frown. “Well, it’s big. But I don’t see what makes it any more special than, say, a manor in Canterlot.”

“What?” He turned on her, water splashing at his sudden motion. “Tell me that is a joke! This place is ancient beyond recorded history, a window into the past such as nopony has ever laid eyes on!”

Her leg snapped up to point, interrupting his coming rant. “Don’t be so sure about that.”

Outrage momentarily stalled, he turned his head to see where she was pointing. He saw it almost immediately: puddles on the the steps of one of the staircases. His fur bristled along his back as he checked the other sets of stairs; they were dry. “Yearling.”

Closing his eyes, he tried to remember everything he’d read in the report given to him by Fleur back in Furlin. Giulguil, Ghoulargh, Garland Sentry. Adored the sunlight. If the ancient writings of Lord Canis were correct, then his study would be…

With a snarl, Caballeron started for the stairs. “She’s going for the Amulet, just like us. We have to move fast.” He reached back to snap off the safety strap on Boomer’s harness. “We might be able to corner her with the artifact.”

Fleur was at his side in an instant. “That would not be ideal.”

Her tone, devoid of any of her prior frustration, held his attention. “Do you think she’ll use the Alicorn Amulet?”

“I’m honestly not sure if she can.” Fleur ran a hoof through her mane. The motion was slow, methodical. Somehow he doubted she was trying to fix her hairstyle. “We should be ready for that, just in case.”

They ascended the stairs, moving slowly lest they slip on the moist stone. Caballeron kept his muscles relaxed, all the better to make them move when he really needed them to. “You never did tell me what this thing does.”

“That would be because I don’t know.” She caught his eye and rolled hers. “Celestia doesn’t tell us everything. It’s about as frustrating as you might expect.”

They reached the top of the staircase. The balcony of the entrance hall extended to their left, a pair of doors set equidistant between them and the other staircase. The alternative was to go right, through a doorway and into a wide hall shrouded in shadow. Water dripped from the ceiling and some sort of thick fungal growth covered much of the limestone surfaces.

Fleur looked to the hallway, her eyes peering. “This way, then?”

Caballeron nodded. “The letters from Lord Canis to Viantex hinted that Giulgiul’s study was in the western portion of the manor. The texts of the elken scribe Ruby Horn claim Giulgiul kept his research there. It’s the most likely place the amulet would be.” He wasted no time trotting through the hall, Fleur hurrying to keep up.

They passed over dirt and mud clumps, which gave off unpleasant squelches beneath their hooves. Fleur didn’t react to the sounds or the water trickling over her mane. By her hard expression, Caballeron guessed she was now in proper ‘Archon’ mode. She spoke in a quiet but harsh voice as her horn began to glow dimly. “And who, exactly, where Lord Canis and Scribe Ruby Horn? Big picture.”

“Put that out. You want Yearling to see us coming?”

Fleur raised an eyebrow. “You can see in the dark now?” She gestured ahead, where darkness swiftly swallowed up the hallway beyond the dim glow she produced.

Conceding her point, he turned away to check a door they were passing by. Nothing but shadow greeted him. He paused, ears perked, but no sound met them. If Yearling was nearby, she was being stealthy. Grunting, he turned back to the hallway and rejoined Fleur as she poked her head into another room.

“Nopony knows anything for sure,” he whispered once they were moving on. “Lord Canis was a king. We don’t know much more than that beyond his kingdom being called Silverdale and they were big on silver mining. Viantex is also a big mystery, although most scholars think she was a dragon. Ruby Horn we know more about ‘cause she wrote a lot. She started off as a maid, supposedly employed here, but went on to be one of the major historians of her time.” He paused to peer into another room. “At least, she was if her own immodest writings are anything to go by.”

Fleur paused at a doorway, her horn sparking. A thin wave of light flew forward, its outline contouring to the room in which she was looking to give a very brief image of what was inside. “And how do we know anything any of them said is accurate and true?”

“We don’t.” He caught her alarmed look and shrugged. “With archeology, we’re largely going by what evidence we can scrounge up. We’ve got to infer what we can and go by the words put down by those before us, at least until something comes along to contradict them. Nopony knows the age of Giulgiul’s Shame, not really. Possibly as far back as The Fall. Not much from that time period to go by.”

Fleur continued to stare at him, and he began to fidget. When she didn’t follow him, he turned back. “What’s wrong?”

Her shoulders slumped and she shook her head. “It just dawned on me that the only real ‘proof’ we have that there is anything here at all is Celestia’s word. It’s… not encouraging. If she sent me into this goddessless bog in the middle of nowhere on a wild goose chase—”

“It’s here.”

Her ears perked. She peered at him as if expecting him to divulge some dark secret. “How can you be sure?”

“Because I’m an archaeologist.” He turned away from here. “Are we doing this or what?”

She followed, much to his relief. In truth, he couldn’t be completely certain of his directions – no archaeologist worth his salt really could. As he’d learned over the years, the important thing for ponies in his line of work wasn’t so much the knowledge but the faith in that knowledge. Sometimes it led to disappointment, but without faith, nopony would ever go looking in the first place.

Silty smiled at him from the shadows. A sad smile, made disturbing by the darkness shrouding her features. The little devil in the back of his mind shivered, which gave Caballeron pause; it had never done that before.

“Cruelles? What’s wrong?”

He blinked, and it was Fleur watching him, not Silty. She bore no sad smile, only that stern, thin-lipped gaze that spoke of a determination to work.

He shook himself and moved on. “It’s nothing. Let’s find this thing.”

Fleur didn’t say a word, but he could feel her eyes boring into the back of his skull.









“Cruelles, over here.”

Caballeron moved quickly to answer Fleur’s call. Part of it was the need to find Yearling quickly. Another part was the fact that they’d been searching the west side of Giulgiul’s Shame for the better part of two hours without finding anything. But a big chunk was that this new, focused and commanding Fleur de Lis left him with an ominous feeling, like she might do something nasty if he didn’t snap to at her every word. Exactly what she’d do, he had no idea.

That just made her scarier.

He slipped into one of the open doorways, identical to all the others. He stood in a room slightly smaller than what he'd grown accustomed to, with a large window opening out to the marshes. The darkness of the overcast sky was such that he guessed they had only a couple hours of daylight left. The room had five stone bookcases and a similar stone desk, all bare and overgrown with moss and fungus.

But what really caught his eye – and undoubtedly Fleur’s – was the confusing arrangement of gemstones embedded in the ceiling and every wall. Rubies, diamonds, amethysts and a few Caballeron couldn’t think of the names for shimmered in Fleur’s ever-glowing hornlight. Every one was connected to at least one other by a thin line cut into the stonework, giving the entire room a spiderweb appearance. He looked to Fleur, who was tracing one of the lines on a wall with her hoof.

“Is this some sort of gemcrafting array?”

She didn’t so much as glance at him, her face taught as she scrutinized the line before her. “Gemcrafting is the infusion of magic into gems. This is merely a gem array. It’s really old, but not all of these gems are. Somepony was here, and recently.”

The little demon flexed its muscles, more than ready to make up for its embarrassing display of weakness a few hours ago. Caballeron stalked a circle around the room, peering for any sign of something unusual. He found it in short order: a perfect curve of moved dirt. He eyed the bookshelves and sucked in a sharp breath. “She’s inside.”

“Yearling?” Fleur glanced at him, then at the quarter circle of dirt. “Ah. Secret door. I’m impressed our hidden companion was able to decipher the array.” She turned back to the wall and ran her hoof along it and over one of the purple gems. “These are flush. The whole thing was meant to be hidden behind wallpaper or wooden paneling. My boss would have thoroughly approved.”

“Can you open it?”

The disdainful frown she cast his way was the kind he might have shot at a university student who had asked if rocks were old. “This gem array would stump an amateur, and maybe in its time it was considered top of the line, but I didn’t get my Supremacy in just six years for nothing.” She walked directly to a small ruby in the corner and pressed her hoof to it. The ruby blinked, and the light flowed along the lines so fast Caballeron couldn’t keep up, dividing and flowing across multiple paths within seconds.

Moving at a sedate pace, Fleur went to the window and pressed her hoof to a gem set within the wall to its left an instant before one of the flowing lights struck it. More, brighter lights darted along the lines from that gem, adding to the already numerous set that flew along the gemlines with no rhyme or reason that Caballeron could comprehend. And then, neatly, they all converged on the bookcase. There was an audible click, and the bookcase swung out, its edge matching the circular dirt pattern on the floor.

“Foal’s play.” She walked through, tail flicking his muzzle. “Come on, archaeologist, we’ve got an amulet to liberate.”

He watched her go in silence, trying to gather what had just happened. A glance back at the room showed all the gems dull and lifeless like before. “A Gemcraft Supremacy in only six years?” He sucked down a deep breath and entered the new passage. “I’m glad you're on my side.” He stepped into the door in time to see her reaching for a gem in the wall. "Don't."

Pausing, she glanced at him. "What? It closes the door. We don't want to give her an easy escape, right?"

He slowly pushed her hoof to the floor. "Trust me. Places like this? You want a clear path to the exit."

Fleur raised an eyebrow, glanced between him and the gem, then shrugged and moved on.

The passage led to a staircase heading down. He followed the bobbing light of Fleur’s horn, ears folding back at the idea of having to go underwater to continue. Those worries seemed unfounded as he took a closer look at his surroundings. The stonework was dry as a bone. Not only that, it was pristine, with not a crack in sight. This even as the stairs most certainly descended to at least the first level. Perhaps even below?

“There is magic at work here.” Fleur didn’t look back, and her voice only just met his ears. “Ancient. It must have been powerful once, but it has diminished with time.”

Caballeron kept his gaze on the light of her horn. “Is that why the place looks so new?”

She hummed a confirmation. “It seems the architect of this passage wanted it protected. Given a few more centuries, though? The magic would probably come apart on its own. I wonder if that played a role in Celestia’s calculations.” She glanced back at him, a hint of curiosity breaking through her stoic manner. “We are clearly beneath the ground floor by now. I can’t imagine building something like this under a marsh was easy.”

“It wasn’t a marsh back then,” he replied. “The entire area was a few hundred feet higher in elevation when the manor was built.”

“Of course.” She turned her gaze forward once more. “Still, I wouldn’t want to be down here when the magic fails.” At last they reached the bottom of the staircase, and Caballeron felt his breath leave him.

They stood in a massive room at least fifty feet from floor to ceiling. No stone construction appeared here, the surfaces covered over by solid wood floors and paneling. Intricate carvings decorated every wall and wide, black iron chandeliers hung from the ceiling. A massive doorway opened on the opposite side, revealing more rooms of equal size and splendor.

And all of it was covered in assorted treasures beyond Caballeron’s wildest expectations. Tables covered in glass and earthen tools; a smithy in the corner stained black with soot, surrounded by weapon racks and standing armor; a trio of statues, one for each member of the pony race, facing one another near the center of the room; a large, clear tank filled with some green concoction, inside which was an object too obscured by the murk to make out. All this and more, ordered into neat spaces spread out just far enough to let a large pony pass among them unhindered.

Caballeron’s eyes burned. He realized he was hyperventilating. To think, all of this has been sitting here untouched for thousands of years! This was nothing less than the find of a generation. The knowledge that could be gleaned about the past from just one of these items…

The foal-like excitement disappeared in an instant as something else dawned upon him: he could see everything. “The torches are lit.” Even the ones in the chandeliers.

He exchanged a glance with Fleur. Her expression was unreadable, her lips in that familiar thin line and her ears raised high and swiveling. Her hoof reached up to dig through her mane; once more, he doubted she was trying to straighten it.

“I’ll watch the left.” She moved forward, her tail flicking.

There came a quite 'chink' sound. He glanced back to see a yellow and silver gemstone now lying on the bottom step of the stairway. He raised an eyebrow; did that fall out of her tail? How’d she drop it?

“Come.” She started forward, and he moved to match her speed.

They walked at a slow trot, each of them examining the potential hiding places on their respective side of the room. He reached back to check Boomer’s safety latch had been removed. “Don’t forget the ceiling.” Fleur didn’t respond.

The place had so many different things, Caballeron struggled to understand exactly what he was looking at. The second room was loaded with bookshelves, and… were those coffins? One was opened, and he thought he could make out a half-decayed body within. It seemed even that had been preserved. Good Goddess, to get an autopsy done on that…

Fleur kept dropping more gems. These were all a pale blue. He made no attempt to ask what they were for.

They were almost to the third room when Caballeron finally realized exactly what they’d found: it was a magical laboratory. Perhaps a dark magic laboratory. He recalled the ancient texts suggesting Giulgiul had been a necromancer. Suddenly they didn’t seem so far-fetched. He wasn’t so sure he wanted to know what was in that tank in the first room.

His ears perked to the sound of some sort of hum, and then something falling to the floor.

“Finally, I thought this thing would never open!”

He and Fleur shot one another startled looks and hurried forward to the fourth and last room. It was lined with a series of marble slabs, each with a pony’s corpse resting on it. On the right side of the room, a larger body lay slumped on the floor, emaciated and thin, with featherless wings and a long, blackened horn. Next to that body stood a small plinth around which some sort of clear paneling had dropped to the ground.

And there, standing before the plinth with an object in her hooves, was a familiar golden pegasus.

“No!" Caballeron charged, barely registering Fleur’s shout.

Yearling spun around, eyes going wide at the sight of the stallion charging her. “Whoa!” Her wings shot open and she went airborne, her tail just escaping the click of his teeth. He slammed into the plinth chest first; it didn’t budge. Grunting from the pain, he turned around and spotted Yearling hovering near the ceiling. “Y-you. I won’t let you take this away from me!”

Yearling scowled at him. “I’m not taking anything from you! What the hay are you doing here anyway, Professor?”

Fleur’s horn flashed, and the doorway out disappeared as if it had never existed. “We are here for that amulet. You wouldn’t be so kind as to let us take it, would you?”

Twisting around to look upon her, Yearling frowned and squinted. “You’re not part of his usual entourage.”

Boomer was in Caballeron’s mouth in an instant. With the ease of a decade of practice, he pulled the boomerang from its harness and threw it in one smooth motion. Yearling merely dropped a little lower, dodging without even glancing at him. He swore, took a step to his right, braced his legs and caught the weapon in his teeth.

She glanced at him, one eyebrow raised in a disdainful expression. “Seriously, Professor, that thing’s gotta be the worst weapon ever for fighting pegasi.”

Setting Boomer back in its harness, Caballeron snorted. “Why don’t you come down here and see how you do against my hooves?” His inner demon cackled as he pawed the hardwood floor.

“Please, everypony.” Fleur raised a leg in a supplicating gesture. “There’s no need for aggression. “Miss Yearling—”

“Daring Do.”

Fleur didn’t miss a beat. “Daring Do, please, all we want is to bring the Alicorn Amulet to Canterlot. It’ll be safe there. We don’t want to fight.”

Caballeron snarled, ignoring her ominous glare. “Buck that. I’m not letting you steal the spotlight again! You took Pawtlpotl from Silty, you’re not taking Giulgiul’s Shame!”

The room went quiet beyond the blood pounding in Caballeron’s ears. Yearling stared at him. Her frown never left, but the tension in her poise faded gradually. “You’ll never get past it, will you?”

Fleur looked between the two of them, her expression unreadable once more. “We can still discuss this as reasonable ponies.”

With a sigh, Yearling shook her head. “Lady, I learned long ago that there’s no reasoning with him.”

Caballeron’s body felt hot. The hairs on his back stood straight up like his ears. He flexed his shoulders and bared his teeth. “You’re not getting away this time.”

“You’ve said that before.” Yearling sighed and looked to Fleur. “Sorry, lady. I don’t know you, but if you’re with him then I just can’t trust you. Nothing personal. Also…” She flapped her wings and flew a swift circle. “I know illusion magic when I see it!”

She went for the wall and passed right through it.

“Damn it!” Caballeron charged after her, but knew he’d never catch up. “Damn it, damn it, damn it!” He passed through the wall just as Fleur’s illusion faded. Daring was already halfway to the exit. “Come back here, you cowardly foal!”

Yearling came to a stop just at the stairs and turned to face him. “You gonna talk to me this time, or just try to kill me like always?”

He pulled Boomer from its harness and didn’t slow down.

“That’s what I thought.” She spun away. “Sorry, Professor. I guess I’ll—Huh?”

The gem on the first step shined a bright yellow for an instant, then shattered like glass. When it did, energy struck the pegasus like a bolt of lightning, sending her flying across the room.

Caballeron didn’t give himself time to consider what happened. He slid around the last doorway to find Yearling in the corner and slowly getting to her hooves, chest burned black. She'd lost the amulet. “Owww…” She saw him coming and leapt, dodging Boomer’s blade. “What the hay?!”

As he turned to face her, he spotted something large and black flying across the room. He had just enough time to think Obsidian? when it erupted like the last stone. Smoke burst from it, filling the entire room in a dark grey haze within the blink of an eye. It flew into his nostrils before he could consider holding his breath, but despite an ashy smell he found he had no trouble breathing.

“Crap! This is not cool!”

Holstering Boomer, Caballeron moved slowly through the fog. Fleur’s distraction kept him from seeing his prey, but Yearling had dropped the amulet. She wouldn’t leave without that. If he could just pinpoint her location…

“Come on, come on…” Yearling’s voice was low to the ground. “Stupid smoke.”

He turned for the sound, only to find his way blocked by a table covered in neatly organized beakers, bottles and tubes. Gritting his teeth, he made his way around.

Fleur’s voice rose from somewhere to his left. “There’s still a chance to end this peacefully, you two.”

“Lady, if I could end things with him peacefully, I’d have done it years ago.”

“Don’t act all high and mighty,” Caballeron snarled, finally getting around the table. He saw a vaguely pony-shaped shadow among the swirling mist, but it disappeared in an instant. “You bask in the love and adoration of your fans, but you and I know the truth. You’re a fraud. A cheat. A deceiver!”

“Yeah?” Yearling was in the air again, if her voice was any indication. “And what are you, selling dangerous relics to the highest bidder? You used to believe in your work!”

There came the sound of metal rubbing against metal. It reminded Caballeron of swords being freed from sheaths. Fleur? “I never lost my love for Archeology,” he hissed. “But that path was closed to me thanks to you.” He stumbled into a statue and changed course.

“I didn’t do anything!”

“Liar!” He turned in place, following her voice. “You think I don’t know? Who else could have tampered with the tablets from Pawtlpotl? Nopony but you!”

Her words came as a frustrated hiss. “Can you prove it?”

He turned once more, eyes darting through the gradually thinning smoke. He heard wingflaps just over his head, but the sound passed by the time he looked up. “You can’t prove I did it, either.”

“I never tried to!”

The mists began to swirl as if caught in a slow-motion tornado, only to erupt from the center of the room. Yearling ceased a spin and spread her wings wide as she looked down at him with fire in those rose-colored eyes. “Not once did I tell anypony I thought you altered the tablets! You came to that conclusion all on your own!”

“And I’m supposed to believe—stop!” Caballeron was too slow; Yearling had reached the floor and snatched up the amulet in a blink.

“I’m out of here!” She corkscrewed and darted for the exit, only to come to a sudden stop. “Ponyfeathers.”

Fleur stood in her way. Surrounding her were more than two dozen weapons – swords, knives, daggers, spears, maces, etc. – in her pink aura. Caballeron blinked, then glanced towards the smithy in the corner. Every single weapon had been taken.

She had her head low and her brow furrowed. Her horn pulsed brightly enough to overpower the torches, covering the room in a soft pink glow. When she spoke, there was a force in her voice that seemed to press into the ears and down on the heart. It was hardly the soft tone he knew, nor was it anything like when she'd been frustrated before. This was an Archon, and her voice sent chills down Caballeron's spine.

“I do not wish to harm you, Daring, but I will do it if you don’t cooperate. Give. Me. The amulet.” Her mane billowed in an unfelt wind. A dozen gems of varying colors rose from somewhere beneath the hairs. They formed a semicircle before her, shimmering in the pale lighting.

Yearling flew back slowly, eyes wide. She raising her hooves in a supplicating pose. “Who are you?”

A ruby flew forward. Yearling dodged with ease, but it shattered an instant later with a concussive blast that sent her careening across the room. She recovered swiftly and hovered, the amulet still in her hooves. “You’re not the only pony with some tricks up her mane, y’know!” She darted to and fro for a moment, as if in demonstration. “You’ve got a lot of pointy things and fancy little stones, but I can keep dodging. Which one of us do you think will slip up first?”

Caballeron had been so focused on the gloriously frightening creature standing before the stairs that he almost missed his opportunity. With Yearling distracted, he snatched Boomer in his teeth, rushed to the nearest wall for room, and tossed.

Yearling almost didn’t see the weapon coming. Almost. She ducked low with a curse and turned to him with forelegs crossed. “Oh, come on Professor! We both know you’re never going to hit me with—yikes!” She dove sideways as an axe whistled through the air.

“I gave you fair warning!” Fleur reared back as the weapons flew forward. They cut and sliced and bashed at the pegasus, who dodged wildly.

Caballeron caught Boomer and considered his position. Could he hit Yearling with her moving so much? Only if he got really lucky. More likely he’d end up knocking some of Fleur’s weapons out of the air and giving their opponent room to escape. Growling, he charged into the fray. Fleur noticed and caught his eye. He hoped his expression was enough to convey his silent command to not hit him on accident.

When Yearling dodged a pair of knives by flying low, he leapt and swung Boomer. She spotted him and twisted in midair, the weapon blurring past her chest by inches. “Celestia’s golden flanks! Why do you have to be such a pain in the tail?” She rolled away as a mace flew at her.

Caballeron pursued her from one corner of the room to another, barely noticing how their struggle damaged the priceless relics in the room. She kept trying to make a run at Fleur, but every time she did she found a wall of blades blocking the path. A gemstone occasionally flew through the air, sometimes bursting into flame, others with electricity, once with an audible thunderclap that left Caballeron’s ears ringing for several seconds. Sweat began to run down his chest as he struggled to keep up with the damnable pegasus!

But Yearling wasn’t faring well either. She’d gained multiple small cuts and bruises from the barrage and her coat shined with her own layer of sweat. While Caballeron stopped for a few seconds every now and then to catch his breath, Fleur never let up, forcing Yearling to be constantly on the move. Even when she fled into the other rooms and beyond Fleur’s vision, the weapons never stopped coming. He suspected that had something to do with those blue gems Fleur had distributed earlier.

Yearling flew back into the main room, but Fleur hadn’t moved from the stairs and had kept a good number of weapons with her to block any quick attempts to slip past. The pegasus huffed as she kept up the dodging game. “Come on… lady! This is… getting… really… old!”

Fleur didn’t have so much as a drop of sweat on her. She stood perfectly still, though her sharp eyes followed Yearling’s every movement. “Drop the amulet at my hooves, and I might let you fly out of here.”

“No you won’t!” Caballeron flung Boomer once more, having long forgotten his misgivings about the act. “She’s not leaving this place alive!”

The boomerang flew in a high arc, weapons deftly avoiding it as it passed. Yearling saw it coming and, with a growl, performed a swift backflip. She’d timed it perfectly, her hind hooves striking the top of the weapon as it passed and changing its course. Boomer wobbled, flew low, curved in a tight arc…

And smashed into the large tank that, until now, had miraculously avoided damage. Glass shattered and green liquid splashed across the wooden floor. Everything stopped. All eyes turned to the contents of the tank, which turned out to be a large lump of brown and grey rock. At first, Caballeron was disappointed.

Then, there came a crackling sound. A sheen of light passed over the stone, then something like an arc of electricity. The stone began to float up, generating an almost mechanical hum. The ponies exchanged alarmed looks as the noise got louder and louder.

“Uh…” Daring flew to the opposite side of the room, panting and wiping sweat from her brow. “I don’t suppose either of you know what that is?”

Caballeron shot his companion a worried look. “Fleur?”

She shook her head, face still locked in that commanding glare even as she watched the orb.

The humming stopped. The orb hovered a couple feet in the air, silent and still. A sound somewhere between a hollow thump and a splash of water filled the room, and then there was a flash of white that made Caballeron cover his face for a moment. As soon as it passed, the orb dropped to the ground with enough force to shake the floor beneath their hooves. At the same moment, Fleur’s magic winked out and all the weapons and gems fell out of the air, filling the cavernous room with echoing clatters.

Yearling collapsed. Her flank smashed into a book-strewn table, and the impact flipped her so she hit the floor face-first. “Ow! Son of a hydra, that hurt!”

Caballeron felt a jolt within him, as if he’d been given a weak but forceful pull towards the stone. It passed as fast as the flash had, leaving a tingling sensation in his hooves, and left him feeling strangely… weak. Diminished. He shook his body as if to free it of water. “What the hay was that?”

Fleur’s face had gone slack. “Oh… chyort voz’mi.” Not a second later, the ceiling over them gave a crack so loud it was like a bolt of lightning in their ears. Caballeron looked up just in time to see a chunk of wood paneling spit apart as a deluge of water poured in.

“The magic has been negated!” Fleur was already running up the stairs. “Get out! Get out now!”

More fissures made themselves known, the cracking sounds battering Caballeron’s ears. Water gushed into the room from the walls, the ceiling and even the floor. Already there was enough to cover the ground, the level rising quickly. Caballeron took a step towards the exit, paused, looked back. His eyes drifted across the dozens, maybe even hundreds of artifacts.

Abruptly, his entire heart felt heavy. So much knowledge lost. His eyes fell upon one of the weapons that had fallen nearby. If he could just save one…

“Professor, what are you doing?” Yearling stumbled in in his way, a limp in her hind leg. “We’ve gotta go!”

“I c-can’t.” He tried to go around her. She blocked. “The relics. I have to save at least one!”

Her wings burst open and she shoved him back. “Forget about the bits and get moving!”

Snarling, he raised his hoof to shove her out of the way. “Any one of these things could be as old as Celestia herself! There’s knowledge here. I can’t let that die!” Water sloshed around his legs as a large chunk of stone collapsed on top of a statue, crushing it. He raised a leg against the splash and turned for a large urn on a nearby plinth. “I c-can’t let it go. This place can’t be forgotten!”

Yearling slammed into him, knocking him on his back. The water was up to his chin, but all he could see was her furious rose eyes. “Silty wouldn’t want you to die down here!”

For an instant, Caballeron saw Silty standing over him, panic overwhelming her anger. In another, it was Yearling, anger masking her panic.

The demon launched, guiding Caballeron’s hoof into the side of her skull. She jolted sideways and hit the water, legs and wings flailing. It didn’t take her long to get up, but adrenaline and rage made him faster. He slammed into her side head first, pushing her across the room until she smashed into a large chunk of limestone. She gasped and started to fall, but he caught her shoulder and pulled so that she was standing on her hind legs, back to the rock, and pressed his elbow to her throat.

Still gasping for air, water streaming down the side of her face, she grasped his leg and kicked at him. He felt none of it as he snarled in her face. “Don’t you ever, ever use her against me like that! You have no right to speak her name you selfish, immature bitch! Silty was ten times better than either of us could ever dream of being, and I won’t stand here and let some backstabbing cheat like you soil her name!”

Yearling squirmed, the air coming out of her throat in a frail whistle. Her eyes boggled as she kicked and flapped, but he held her in an iron grip. The devil in the back of his mind was laughing. Laughing and jeering and dancing and making lewd gestures and—

Something dangled before his face. It was all angles and sharp points, with a blood red image of an alicorn on the front. He stared at it, uncomprehending at first, and then realizing what it was. His breathing slowed. He looked to Yearling’s face, which was going blue in the cheeks. Slowly, she mouthed something.

‘One thing.’

One thing? One…

He gasped and jumped back, suddenly remembering their situation. The water was above his knees now and rising fast. Yearling fell to her haunches and sucked down air, hacking as she did. Books and scrolls and small tools floated about them, and Caballeron yelped when one of the walls between the rooms collapsed on itself.

“Shit!” He turned, scanned the waters and spotted Boomer floating nearby. Sloshing his way across the room, he grabbed the boomerang and set it in its harness, strapping the safety on. That done, he started for the exit, but stopped himself when he remembered Yearling.

Though she continued to heave, she’d managed to get in the air, stuffing the amulet in her satchel. “I’m f-fine,” she said, just barely loud enough be heard over the cacophony of rushing water and cracking stonework. “Go. Go!”

They’d escaped harder situations than this. She’d make it out, he knew it for a fact, and so he rushed for the stairwell. More water gushed through, making it hard to see the steps themselves, and with Fleur gone he had no light to see by. Cursing, he fought the urge to move quickly lest he fall. The cascading waters had enough force that he feared he might lose his footing, but gradually he made his way. When he looked up and saw the light of the other side, however, his heart fell at the distance.

The staircase buckled and shook. A wall just ahead of him snapped, unleashing more water into the small space. He could hear the steady cracking of rock, first behind him then over his head, then in front of him. Shit, it’s the roof! He tried to move faster, stumbling as he misplaced a hoof.

“That ain’t gonna cut it, Professor!”

Legs wrapped about his torso, and he shouted in surprise as he began to dart up the stairs. “Yearling! There’s not enough room for that!” He didn’t know that for sure, but he couldn’t imagine how she was able to flap her wings without banging them on the narrow walls.

“Stop complaining, and stop squirming!”

Water, stone and dirt rained on them as they ascended faster and faster. Gritting his teeth, Caballeron tucked his legs close to his body and hoped she didn’t choose this perfect opportunity to drop him. They might be right above the steps, but at these speeds the impact may very well kill him. The light of the exit grew brighter and larger by the second. The water stopped flowing. Against his better judgement, he actually began to hope.

A resounding crack filled the air, dirt and pebbles blocking his view. He covered his face as Yearling screamed in what he hoped was merely determination. Bright light, a twist that made Caballeron’s guts churn. A window—

Another cry, and the legs around him disappeared. Caballeron sucked in a sharp breath as his airborne path sent him sailing out the study window. His first thought: I’m out!

His second thought: Aw, shit. Not again. He tried to angle himself for a dive, but Caballeron was no seapony; he smashed into the marsh water sideways, grunting at the pain of the impact before his world was engulfed in liquid. He hit the bottom a second later, and though the grassy muck caved from the impact he still felt as if he’d slammed into a solid wall.

It took a moment for the shock to fade. Once it did, he started swimming for the surface. It didn’t take him long; the water was just deep enough to keep his hooves from touching bottom. He gasped, wiped his mane from his eyes and tried to access the situation. What he saw almost made him wish he were back underwater.

Guilguil’s Shame appeared to be imploding, its walls shaking and collapsing as the entire structure slipped beneath the churning water. Cat lilies and marsh grass swayed wildly at the disruption to the normally pristine habitat and the air was filled with a cacophony of crunches, crashes and cracks overlaid by the steady rush of water. The hole beneath the the manor was sucking everything down…

Including him! Caballeron cursed and began to swim away from the disaster. The current rushed past him, carrying along clumps of grass and moss and mud that tangled in his legs and mane and tail. He kicked as hard as his legs could muster, but when he looked back the destruction had only grown closer. He watched in horrid fascination as an entire stone wall crumbled in on itself and disappeared. He didn’t want to imagine what that kind of pressure would do to him.

“Cruelles!”

He whipped his head around, sending water droplets flying. Fleur stood in shallower waters only a dozen feet away. He tried calling to her, but a clump of muddy moss chose that moment to get into his mouth. He spat and choked and went under for a moment, only to burst back out and spit the gunk away. His efforts to swim her way gained him nothing but a slightly faster ride towards the bubbling, churning waters beneath Giulgiul’s Shame.

Then he felt something latch onto his forehoof. He fought to get his head above water for just a quick glance. Relief washed over him at the sight of a familiar pink aura, which drug him through the rushing waves towards Fleur at a steady pace. Within seconds he’d found his footing, but she kept pulling him until the water was only just above his knees. He promptly fell to them, gasping and hacking out what water had lodged itself in his throat.

Once he could finally breath without a knifing pain, he shook his head and grumbled. “Why can’t I ever go to a site that doesn’t destroy itself once the treasure is found? And why is there always some mud for me to fall into?”

“Are you alright?”

Fleur's tone was stern, but he chose not to dwell on that. “I think I’ll be fine.” He peered up at her. “You left me to die down there.”

Her expression was as cold as winter in the Frozen North. “Do not blame me if you chose not to get out when I expressly declared the urgent need to do so.” Her gaze shifted to Giulgiul’s Shame, or what was left of it. “What of Daring Do?”

Indeed, what of Daring Do? Standing at last, Caballeron followed her gaze. The once grand structure was now but a pile of rubble not even a floor in height. It seemed that the gaping hole they’d made beneath it had finally filled up, for the wreckage ceased its descent and merely rested in the gradually calming waters. Of his longtime foe there was no sign.

“I don’t know,” he muttered, ears folding back. As an afterthought, “She had the amulet.”

Fleur nodded slowly. “Then we’ve no choice but to search. I can’t face the Mane Archon without telling him I did everything I could.” She glanced at him, her face no less hard than before. “I am sorry you didn’t get the opportunity to kill her yourself.”

“She’s not dead.” He didn’t know if that was true or not. He realized, with some surprise, that he hoped it was. “But she might be in the wreckage. It’ll be unstable.”

Fleur was already walking for the structure. “Stay behind if you are worried.”

Watching her go, he weighed his options. Yearling… might be dead. Crushed beneath the weight of the debris, or trapped underwater and unable to escape. The thought left him feeling uneasy. After how much he’d chased her, all the effort he put into trying to kill her, she’d made the effort and saved him from what would have been certain doom. Why?

Knowing it to be a bad idea, he followed Fleur. It seemed that the suction had either lowered the water level or dragged a lot of mud and debris into the area, for Caballeron had no trouble reaching the site without having to swim. That proved not to be much of a blessing; his legs sank in the muck to above his knees, and every step was a struggle on his already aching muscles. It seemed Fleur had no such problems, but her horn was glowing. A spell to make her passage easier? He wished she’d use it on him. He had a very real concern of stepping into a deep spot and dropping into some mud-filled pit.

Somehow, he managed to get to the debris, slowly climbing atop a large limestone chunk of what he suspected had been a wall. He moved slowly, eyeing the cracks and edges, hoping nothing would collapse under his weight. Fleur moved with equal caution, but with her lighter frame she had less trouble going from slab to slab.

“Hey. Hey! I’m here.”

The two shared surprised looks and hurried as fast as they dared towards the sound of the voice. Fleur reached the spot first, stopping at the edge of what had once been a piece of roof… maybe. Caballeron reached her a minute later.

Yearling was in the water, her face just barely poking out. It was almost to her eyes, and she kept blinking when it sloshed into them. She kept her lips formed in a small ‘o’ shape to keep the muddy marshwater from getting in her mouth, with only marginal success. Caballeron stared at her, not sure what he was seeing. Those rose eyes… they hadn't looked like that in a long time.

“H-hey.” She struggled to speak without letting too much water in her mouth. “Um… help a mare out?” She spat out a small gob of mud that found its way in. “P-please?”

Fleur cocked her head. “What’s stuck?”

Yearling’s face shifted and rocked, as if she were repositioning herself. Water sloshed over her face and she blinked her eyes free of it before answering. “My tail. It’s caught on something. I gotta hold—” Another quick adjustment. She spat some water out and took a few quick breaths. “I’m holding myself up with my forelegs. It really hurts.”

“I see.” Fleur glanced at Caballeron. She offered not a smile or a frown, nor anything else to betray what she might be thinking. After a moment’s thought, she lit her horn.

“Hey, w-what are you doing?” Yearling’s eyes went wide. “Don’t pull! You’ll do more… oh.” The drop in her tone was like a stone landing at the bottom of a well; desolate and certain.

A moment later, Yearling’s satchel rose out of the water. Fleur pulled it close, opened it, and peered inside. A moment later, the Alicorn Amulet floated out. “I have what I came for.” She looked to Yearling, then to Caballeron. “Do as you wish. I’ll be waiting nearby.” The amulet dropped back into the satchel. She turned and left without another word.

Silence. Cabelleron stared at Yearling. She stared right back, the gaze of the hopeless.

Thirteen years of longing, of seething hatred and burning need. At last, he had his chance. The little devil in the back of his mind giggled like a school colt, patient, savoring the moment. Except…

Why did he feel like it was he who was trapped?

“I didn’t do it.”

He shook himself, ears folding back as he refocused on her. “What?”

Yearling shifted once more, but her eyes never left his. “I didn’t frame you. I didn’t take Pawtlpotl from you. All I ever—” She spat more of the muck, coughed. “All I ever wanted was to set the record straight. I didn’t know they’d come down on you like that.”

He said nothing, only stared and absorbed her words. His mind was disturbingly blank.

She continued after a while. “I’m sorry, Professor. It all happened so fast. I tried to tell them you were innocent, but nopony would believe me. I… I-I tried so hard…”

Where those tears in her eyes? No… No, it had to be the marsh water. She couldn’t keep it out of them for longer than a few seconds.

“S-somepony framed you, but it wasn’t me. I swear, it wasn’t me. I—”

A question came to mind. Caballeron leaned forward, and she went silent. “What do you hope to gain by telling me this?”

She gazed up at him for a moment, breath coming in steady gasps as she fought to keep still. It was getting harder for him to dismiss the tears. “I’m hoping you’ll make it quick.”

He knew what she really meant. He took in the waters around her, the wreckage of Giulgiul’s Shame, the stillness of the place. It would be simple, wouldn’t it? Just turn and walk away. She’d stand there for hours, struggling just to keep her face above the water. In time her legs would begin to wear out. He could imagine it; the despair, the fear, the steady understanding that nopony would come to help her. It would be a slow death, a lingering one, filled with a hopeless fight to stay above water for as long as her strength remained. It was about as torturous an end as he ever could have hoped for.

It left a pit in his stomach.

“Do it, Professor.”

He met her gaze but said nothing.

She spat once more, shifted, took a few slow, rattling breaths. No, those were definitely tears. She closed her eyes and made a strange, choking sound. He realized it was a failed attempt to stifle a sob.

“Walk away. If it’ll h-help you heal… If it’ll fix what happened, then just go.” A deep breath. “Please.”

He cocked his head. “I thought you wanted me to make it quick.”

“I do.” She sniffled, closed her eyes. “I don’t want to die like this. B-but if it’ll end your rage, th-then… then go. Before I start to beg. P-please.”

So that’s what it came down to, was it? A choice. Leave her to die slowly, or end it now and be merciful. Merciful. Could he be merciful? After all she did…

He closed his eyes, feeling sick in his stomach now that he faced his great moment. It all felt so wrong. Her words… Her last declaration of innocence. She’d always maintained it, never once even acknowledging the idea of guilt. And she’d never fought back, not really. All the chasing, all the determination, but all she’d ever done before was dodge and run away. Now that he thought about it, had she ever so much as threw a punch?

His tiny demon was snarling and snapping, fighting to get out of its cage. It tried to block the path of his thoughts, tried to force the anger into him. The comfortable, safe rage. The flame that kept him going for so long, all in an effort to find somepony to blame. And he’d chosen Yearling. Yearling, who stared at him now with those wide, terrified eyes. How could he forget the horror on her face? He’d been so busy screaming at her as they dragged him from the interrogation room, he’d barely noticed.

But he’d never forgotten.

And now, as he opened his eyes, he saw those same eyes watching him, waiting in silent expectation of her doom. And right then, he knew the truth. More than that; he’d always known, he’d just refused to see it.

“You’re innocent.”

She blinked. Shifted. “W-what?”

The demon howled and shrieked. He shoved it down. “You’re innocent.”

He went with his third option, and jumped into the marsh. He couldn’t see through the dirty water, but he could feel just fine. He moved along the slabs, cautious to keep from hurting himself on the debris, and found her. His hooves traced her forelegs, which extended to their full length against a chunk of stone. They ran down her body to her hind legs, also fully extended. With a mental apology, he felt around her flanks until he got to her tail, then followed it down.

It was caught between what felt like two thick slabs. He anchored himself to something hard with his hind legs, kept one foreleg on her tail, then unlatched the safety strap from Boomer. His chest began to burn from a lack of oxygen, but he ignored the sensation. Moving slowly so as not to accidentally hurt her, he flipped the boomerang to its bladed side and slowly cut through the strands of tail hair. As soon as he felt her come loose, he pulled back, replaced Boomer and swam.

He broke through the surface with a gasp, his chest aching. Sputtering and wiping his mane from his eyes, he turned to find an offered a hoof. He took it and climbed back onto the ledge. As soon as he was safely on, Yearling collapsed onto her side. She breathed slow and heavy, not even flinching when he shook the water from his coat. He sat next to her and said nothing, focusing instead on the task of accepting his actions.

It was over, wasn't it? He tried to find the devil in the back of his mind. It was nowhere to be found.

He mentally reached out for Silty. His summons went unanswered. For the first time in over a decade, he truly felt alone. It left him with a cold, hollow feeling. But he didn't know how to react to it, so he just sat there, water dripping off his mane.

Seconds passed. Maybe minutes, he couldn’t be sure. At last, Yearling looked up at him, expression weary. “Y-you could have ended it. Why?”

He spared her a glance, then stood on aching legs. “I’m sorry, kid. I blamed you. You were an easy target. I… I should have been looking harder.”

He left her there without another word, walking with his head low and eyes on the water. He made slow progress through the muck, not bothering to fight it with any real effort. It made his knees burn with the constant effort, but he welcomed it. He deserved it. Thirteen years of being an ass. Thirteen years wasted on childish goals and blind rage.

A creep like him didn’t deserve Silty’s forgiveness.

“You let her live.”

His head felt like it were made of bricks, his neck moving stiffly to raise it just high enough to let him eye Fleur. She stood nearby, frowning as she studied him with a solemn, heavy-lidded expression. It had been a statement, but there was a question in her eyes.

He let his head drop once more and resumed his walk. He offered her no explanation.

Nothing he could say would lessen the shame.
> Book V – Cruelles Caballeron: Chasing the Amulet
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------





Trixie. Fine thinks she’s got what it takes. He’s prepared to sacrifice everything just to give her a chance. From where I’m sitting, it’s a stupid gamble. I remember that pony. Granted, I didn’t see her too much, but what I did see was unimpressive. Definitely not somepony worth pinning the future of Equestria on. Yet that’s exactly what he’s going to do, isn’t it? In a couple days she’ll be here, and so will we.

Fleur’s taking it badly. I want to say something, to comfort her somehow, but I’m not sure I have the right. Heck, she might not even want comforting.

She’s my friend. I never thought I’d have a friend again, but Fleur puts up with me. Pushes me when I need it, holds me back when I get ahead of myself. Talks. Somehow she always knows when I needed to talk. I don’t think I’d have ever gotten past

Damn it. I’ve got to try. If she pushes me away then I guess I’ll just let it be. Maybe. Don’t know if I can.

Lulamoon, you better be worth it.

—Cruelles Caballeron, Book of Shadows XLVIII,

June 11, 1007
Excerpt from personal diaries, translated from Palabras del Sur, June 16, 1007










August 9, C.Y. 1002 
HMS Indigo Horizon, Over Manehattan


Caballeron gazed out the window, taking in the glimmering light show that was Manehattan at night. He’d never liked cities like this one. Too fast paced, too loud. Impersonal, but without the space or privacy. Not to mention the high crime rate the city was known for. Despite that, he’d have been glad to have risked a few amateur muggers, a drug gang or even one of the crime families if it meant not reaching his destination.

He turned away from the view, taking in the brightly lit lobby of his and Fleur’s airship suite. Wood-paneled walls with silver molding, plush blue carpet and a chandelier served as reminders of the opulence of the life of an Archon. Fleur was in the midst of some sort of magical training, standing in the center of the room with her hard eyes set on nothing in particular. Three images of her stood in a triangle around her, each bearing a different pose and expression while levitating items found in the general vicinity. Caballeron knew enough about magic to be deeply impressed, especially as she wasn’t pushing herself to her limit.

As fascinating as her exercise was, Caballeron had more important issues on his mind. “Are you sure I can’t just… I don’t know, hide out in Manehattan or something?”

One of the dopplegangers stopped its pronking to give him a coy smile. “What, are you not fond of my company?”

He grunted and scuffed the floor. “You’re not the one that scares me.”

Another clone, this one going through what appeared to be some sort of martial arts exercise, spoke up next. “I am aware, but do you really want to ignore a summons from the Mane Archon himself?”

He turned his attention to that one, despite the fact she wasn’t looking at him. “I do if there’s a chance I can get away with it.” He noted with some surprise that the image was actually sweating from its exertion. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe that was the real one.

“There is no chance of that,” declared the third Fleur, who was busy practice a catwalk strut with a model’s professional air. “You know full well that it’s impossible to hide from this.”

Caballeron allowed himself a moment to study the speaker’s poise and feminine curves. How strange that they did nothing for him anymore. “But what the hay does he want with me? I did my part. We got his trinket. This is supposed to be where I get paid and move on to something else.”

“I told you,” spoke Fleur – the real one? “I don’t know for sure why he wants to see you. I just know that he does, and when Fine Crime wants something to happen, it happens.”

Snorting, Caballeron went to take a seat at a nearby dinner table. A bucket of sparkling white wine on ice sat atop it beside two crystal glasses, and he poured himself a small dose. “It must be nice to be all powerful,” he grumbled before draining the glass in one go. “I don’t take kindly to being bossed around.”

“Come, Cruelles.” The strutting doppleganger shot him a wink, her tail swishing playfully. “What were you going to do once we left Mongolia?”

He flinched, eyes dropping to the glass in his hooves. Indeed, what? He could always put himself back on the market, look for a new job. But it just didn’t feel… necessary. Or interesting. He had plenty of bits to last him – or would once he got paid for delivering the amulet – and hadn’t much interesting in going anywhere. Technically he was working for the Archons, but that didn’t appeal to him much anymore.

With a sigh, he set the glass aside and reached for the bottle. His hoof paused an inch away, pulled back. He stared at the bottle, trying to find some desire within for it. When no such thing surfaced, he slumped and let his hoof fall.

“I’m sorry.” He didn’t look up, so he had no idea which Fleur was speaking now. “Was that too on the nose?”

He almost didn’t say anything. Indulging her would be indulging himself, and that was… unwelcome. And yet he felt a compulsion the likes of which he’d not had in over a decade. Why now? Why with her? Fleur didn’t deserve to know his innermost thoughts any more than Yearling did.

Despite his brooding, his tongue moved. “You’re right. I don’t know what to do with myself.” Leaning against the backrest of the chair, he stared at the ceiling. “All my life, I wanted to kill her. Now that I’ve given that up…”

“You have no idea what to do.”

Caballeron closed his eyes and tried to call on his inner demon to guide him. It was absent, its little room in his brain empty and starting to gather dust. The image left him feeling frail, like his strength had abandoned him. He turned his mental focus towards Silty, begging for her to show him something. But she wasn’t there either, as if she’d decided to go on vacation with the devil and not bothered to leave a note for him. Which, he had to admit, wasn’t a very ‘Silty’ thing to do.

He had to make his own decisions now.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

“I feel like a lost little foal.”

There came a distinct silence, and it took him a moment to realize that the sound of Fleur’s magic, once constant, had vanished. He cracked open an eye to find Fleur alone once more and watching him with an unreadable expression. “What?”

Her ears folded back, but her face didn’t budge. “Nothing. It’s just… I don’t know what it is like to live without a direction. I’m trying to relate.”

He sat up once more and shook his head. “I’m not looking for sympathy.”

“Looking for it or not, you strike me as a pony who could really use a friend.”

Ears perking, he turned to study her. He watched the slight changes in her toned muscles, the tiny shift in her eyes such that she avoided looking right at him, the small twitch in one ear. Was she nervous? “Are you suggesting we could be friends?”

If she was indeed nervous, the calm nature of her response did a good job of masking it. “Yes, I think it is possible. And I would be willing to take that step, if you were.” She smiled, and it may have been the sincerest expression he’d ever seen on her face. “I suspect we'll be seeing more of one another soon. Might as well get started.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I have no idea what you are talking about.”

With a shrug, she turned away. “I understand. Maybe we’ll talk about it more on the way to Canterlot. Right now I need to get ready for my statement.” She opened a large closet door and used her magic to pull out her luggage, including at least seven different cases. Picking one out after some careful inspection, she started for a changing screen set in the corner.

Caballeron stared incredulously at the suitcases, bags and travel cases littering the floor. “What statement? And what in Celestia’s name do you need that much luggage for?”

The groan that rose from behind the screen was decidedly unladylike. “Don’t remind me! Seriously, I haven’t even touched four fifths of those things. I really only needed one or two.”

Cocking his head, he hopped from his chair and went to inspect the luggage. He tried straightening one bright red bag and found it to be much heavier than it appeared. “Then why have so many?”

“I am Fleur de Lis!” She spoke the words with a Fancy accent and exaggerated pomp. “Ponies know me as one of the world’s premier fashion models. Magazines pay out their muzzles for me to grace their front page, clothing designers literally beg my agent for an opportunity to have me model their lines, colts all across Equestria have my image plastered on their walls, and fillies dreaming of fame look up to me as a role model. I have to look and act the role that is my cover, and part of that is pretending to be a high maintenance mare demanding tons of superfluous junk in my luggage.”

Caballeron paused in his inspection of a pale yellow suitcase to gawk at the screen hiding his travel companion. “Wait, so you mean it’s not just a front? You do the whole modeling career for real?”

“Of course it’s real! You don’t get to where I’m at by faking it, no matter who backs you.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Not even the Equestrian government? The Archons?”

Her muffled sigh gave off an air of frustration. “Yes, the Archons can easily force some magazine in Germaney to put me on their front page. That’s not enough for a real cover life. I’ve had to meet ponies, do real shoots, attend interviews and hold press conferences. I studied fashion and etiquette, I attend important parties of the fashion scene, the whole works. The job is as real as it gets, Cruelles.”

“But…” He glanced at the center of the room, recalling the three clones she’d been projecting for half an hour. “But how could you do that and still have a full time Archon job? Or maintain your gemcraft and illusions? When do you find time to relax?”

The bark-like laugh that came from behind the screen caught him off balance. “Cruelles, I’ve lived my whole life in a constant state of activity. If I stop for more than ten minutes, I feel lazy and start looking for work to do. I’m at my happiest when I’m achieving, and – believe it or not – that training session I just went through was my relaxation time.”

He tried to take this declaration in. It… wasn’t easy. “You mean all that work was for fun?”

Fleur stepped out from behind the screen, and he thought his heart might have stopped from the the lace and ribbon-covered dress she wore. Colored so dark purple as to almost be black, it featured a narrow skirt covered in several layers of frills that reminded him of the traditional dance dresses of his native southern shores. Where he not so caught up in how the tight fit brought out her luscious curves, he might have asked when she planned to start dancing la rumba.

Apparently not noticing his roving eye, she adjusted her collar and focused on a small makeup bag that floated in her magical aura. “Being an Archon is work. Maintaining my cover takes work. But I love gemcraft and illusions. That’s fun for me.”

She looked his way, smirking when he failed to adjust the direction of his eyes quick enough. “When the ship lands, I will be going directly to a podium to do some minor press conference about my stay in the far east. It’s mostly platitudes and playing the part of the peace-loving idealist everypony believes me to be. Then it’s off to a fancy dinner meetup with Hoity Toity, who wants me for his upcoming fashion show a month from now.”

With a flick of her tail, she turned away and cantered towards the bedroom. “It’ll take me forty-five minutes to prepare, and by then we’ll have landed. Can I trust you to handle the luggage?”

Caballeron’s ears perked at her tone. He knew what she was really asking. “Of course. It will be safe with me.”

“Good. I’ll probably not get into the hotel until late. Don’t wait up.” The door closed behind her with a gentle click of the latch.

A quiet filled the suite, punctuated by the steady thrumming of the airship’s engines. An unpleasant chill settled in Caballeron’s body as he turned his eyes to the open closet. There, set in the corner of one of the shelves, was a large pink saddlebag. He thought about what it held within, which in turn reminded him of what he’d done.

He wondered what Yearling was doing at this moment.







Caballeron understood Fleur’s reasoning for carrying so much luggage. Even as he grumbled and groaned alongside the taxi carriage's driver, he could acknowledge that the illusion was well kept. What he didn’t understand was why she insisted the Alicorn Amulet be kept in her saddlebags. It seemed silly at best. It wasn’t as if it was protected there.

He knew two things for certain. First, Fleur refused to wear the thing. He could agree with that one, considering neither of them knew what it could do. The second part had been some inane lecture about how putting it in the most obvious place would better protect it, especially if they were keeping an eye on it. He didn’t buy her idea, not one bit, but he wasn’t about to disobey. He had a lot of respect for her, and if she thought this was the best plan, he might as well give it a go.

Granted, he was also afraid that she might skin him alive for disobedience. He’d seen enough of her power to know she could do it. Sure, she seemed friendly now, but how long would that last if he messed up?

The luggage cart had been filled, Caballeron applying the pink saddlebag last and in a prominent position so that he could keep a close eye on it. He gave the poor carriage driver a generous tip, then prepared himself for the arduous challenge of pushing the cart towards the hotel doors.

“Take your luggage for you, sir?”

His instinct was to snap at the bellhop, but he held back as he considered his workload. He eyed Boomer’s carrying case near the bottom of the pile and sighed; it would have made for wonderful intimidation at a time like this, but one didn’t walk around Manehattan with a giant weapon exposed for all to see. The bellhop waited patiently for his reply, and at last Caballeron stepped back and nodded. Better the pony being paid for this kind of labor than him.

Even so, he kept a close eye on the luggage as the young stallion pushed the cart through the doors and walked with him to the front desk. The room had been booked in Fleur’s name, but a false I.D. convinced the desk clerk and hotel manager that Caballeron was her bodyguard sent ahead to make sure things were well situated. The manager bent over backwards trying to be accommodating, offering free this and complimentary that – anything to make Equestria’s premier fashion model happy. It grew grating in short order, not least because the mare kept forcing him to look away from the luggage.

It took almost twenty minutes to get the manager to stop with the flank kissing, and then the frustrating creature insisted on personally guiding him to the suite, yammering the whole way. Another thirty minutes were spent listening to the mare talk about her photographer friend who was certain to be up-and-coming in the industry if she could just get a solid recommendation and maybe an interview. Caballeron listened to that bit of nonsense the entire time he watched the bellhop deliver the luggage with astounding slowness. That wasn’t his fault, though; every time he tried to move at a decent pace the manager would scold him for being careless with a celebrity’s property.

It was nothing short of a miracle that Caballeron kept from bucking the manager’s teeth in before they left. With one last check to ensure that all the luggage had been delivered – especially the pink saddlebags – he promptly took a much-needed shower and went to bed. He drifted off wondering how in the wide world of Equestria Fleur put up with such things.







Caballeron was shoved awake. Literally, the force of the hit sending him sprawling off the bed. He hit the floor shoulder first, but was back on his hooves in an instant and ready for a fight. But instead of assassins sneaking into his camp under cover of shadows, he found himself in a high class hotel suite bedroom, and instead of assassins in the shadows, he found Fleur standing on the opposite side of his bed.

Then again, maybe the assassin comparison was accurate.

All Caballeron’s anger and preparation disappeared as he took in Fleur’s visage. Her face glowed hot pink, the magic she contained in her horn making her mane float over her head. The combination gave him a perfect view of her snarling, teeth-bearing visage, not to mention the eyes that burned hotter than the sun. Caballeron thought he could feel the hairs of his coat shriveling under her gaze, and he promptly backed against the wall.

The pink saddlebag floated up between them, and Fleur spoke in a voice that reverberated in his ears like the clap of thunder. “This. Is not. My saddlebag.”

Heart pounding, sweat beading on his forehead, Caballeron stared at the thing. It looked… perfectly like her saddlebag. “I d-don’t understand.”

The saddlebag flew into him with enough force to slam him into the wall. “Did you even check it?”

“It’s your bag! I didn’t want to intrude on your…” He swallowed as small flames flashed from the tip of her horn. Slowly, he opened the bag and looked inside. The air fled his lungs; it contained nothing but rocks. “W-what? How? I was watching it the whole time, it couldn't have—”

“Where is my saddlebag, Cruelles?” The bed slid out from between them, crashing against the opposite wall even as she took a step closer. “Where is the Alicorn Amulet?”

Caballeron was in very real danger of pissing himself. “I-I… I don’t know! I swear, Fleur, in Celestia’s name—”

She was in his face so fast he thought she might have teleported, her muzzle pressed to his and the fiery aura of her horn actually burning his mane hairs. “Do not swear to that conceited bitch! Do you know what my master will do to both of us if we have to tell him we lost that amulet? Do you?”

He hardly noticed the warm, wet feeling between his hind legs. He dropped to his haunches and slowly raised his shaking hooves. He tried to speak, to say something to placate the demon before him, but his dry throat betrayed him. All he could do was sit there and tremble.

Fleur gazed upon him with all the fury of a goddess, the skirts of her dress waving wildly in the winds of her magic. Steam rose from between her lips and her body heaved with her rage. Caballeron wanted to close his eyes, but he didn’t dare. If he was about to die, he’d at least watch it come. He had to be able to tell Silty he didn’t go down a complete coward.

He yelped as Fleur’s magic reached out, but nothing happened to him. Instead, the dresser beside him jerked from the wall. Screaming like a banshee, Fleur spun about and sent the furniture piece flying through a nearby window. The glass shattered instantly, only to be sucked outside by the latent magic that followed in the dresser’s wake. Then the noise died, along with the brilliant aura of Fleur’s horn, and she collapsed to her knees.

Caballeron stared, his ears ringing and trembles running up and down his body. It took him several long seconds of gazing at the unicorn to realize that he hadn’t been killed. The demon had spared him. His eyes drifted to the rock-filled pink saddlebag at his hooves. When had the bag been switched? Who in the world walked around with a bag full of rocks? Where the hay was the Alicorn Amulet?

Why had she let him live?

He wanted to say something, but Fleur rose before he could regain control of his tongue. “Okay.” The smallest of trembles laced her words. “Okay, we can fix this. I have the skills. We can do this.” Sucking down a deep breath, she turned towards him. He flinched at the sharpness of her motion, but she only lifted the saddlebag in her magic. Raising it close to her chest, she began to cast some sort of spell.

Caballeron’s tongue at last obeyed his commands, but he held back and observed. Fleur's mane and tail were a mess of loose hairs and tangles, and there was a haunted look to her eyes. For how frightening she’d been just a moment ago, she seemed plenty afraid herself. Could Celestia really be that unforgiving?

She dropped the saddlebag and raised her head, eyes narrowing. “Alright, I can trace the original owner now. Let’s follow the magical breadcrumbs.” She was out the door before she’d even finished speaking. Caballeron had no choice but to follow, breaking into a slow jog to keep up with her long-legged canter.

As they entered the elevator, he took the opportunity to speak and hoped he didn’t trigger some terrible backlash. “Miss de Lis, I don’t know how this happened, but I promise I will do whatever I can to make it up to you.”

Her glance was neither judging or commanding. Brows furrowed in apparent thought, she focused on the elevator doors and the faint pink light glowing at the tip of her horn. “I’ll hold you to that.”

“I know.” He shuffled in place, impatient for the doors to reopen. He tried to think of exactly when and how he’d lost her saddlebags. All the way from the air dock, he’d been cautious, doing his best to keep the saddlebags within sight. He’d never taken his eyes off of it for more than a second or two the entire time. Did somepony else have a similar bag and accidentally grabbed the wrong one?

No, that was ridiculous. The one they had was filled with rocks. Who carried rocks?

The elevator door opened at last, and Fleur stormed into the lobby. She only got a few steps in before coming to a sharp pause. “It happened here.”

“Here?” He glanced around at the empty, wide open space. The hour was so late that even the front desk was unmanned. “In the lobby?”

“No.” She pointed at the carpeted floor. “Right here. I can sense how the bag’s original owner’s position changed. They intercepted you here and made the switch.”

Caballeron felt his lips curl up. “The manager. She wouldn’t stop talking my ear off. I was trying to ignore her, but the bitch was so insistent!” Another thought struck him and his ears perked. “But wait, the saddlebag looked exactly like yours. They had to have specifically targeted us. Or… you.”

Fleur shook her head, her peering gaze set upon the carpet in front of them. “No. There was a spell on the saddlebags, an illusion. I don’t know what they really look like, but they were given a weak enchantment to make them look like mine.” She began walking once more, taking a side path. “Most likely it is a member of the hotel’s staff. I bet if we look into the local police records we’d find reports of several robberies here.”

They marched through a door in a nearby hallway labeled for employees only, coming upon a large laundry room for the hotel’s bedsheets and towels. Fleur moved with purpose, ignoring the rumbling machines as she entered a back door. Caballeron followed, and they ended up in a back alley outside the hotel.

Her heels clopped on the hard concrete, each sound like a minor crack of lightning. A tingle of worry itched at the back of Caballeron’s neck. He’d seen her move in anger before, but this was different. This wasn’t even the way Fleur moved when they’d been hunting Yearling beneath Giulgiul’s Shame. There was more focus in her movements, more intent. Every step was a declaration of will, and Caballeron almost felt sorry for the pony at the center of her ire.

With no means of detecting the magical signature, he was reduced to following her lead. They traveled the near-empty streets for block after block, the buildings gradually growing smaller, more densely packed, and more run down. Soon they were in an area covered in graffiti and decorated by broken windows. Shadowy ponies watched their progress from street corners and alleyways. Few looked friendly, and the rest were eyeing Fleur in the way a griffon eyed a plate of lamb chops. Caballeron regretted not having Boomer, but wasn’t too concerned; he’d dealt with petty thugs often enough in his life.

Fleur led them into a parking lot for a large, two-story building. Most of its windows were boarded up and the yellow brick was coated in dirt and colorful slogans or images of ponies doing lewd things. A poster for a cabaret hung like a dirty dishrag by the entrance. In front of the door was a large silver earth pony with a chunk missing from his ear. He had the muscle of a guard, Caballeron would give him that. He glanced back and noticed some of the street thugs were closing in.

The guard stiffened upon noticing their approach. “Don’t know who called for a whore, lady, but if I don’t get the word—”

Fleur’s horn flashed, and the stallion’s head snapped back so hard his body lifted off the ground. He slumped to the concrete in a heap, already unconscious.

Caballeron took this as his queue to turn and face the approaching thugs, who all stood frozen with wide eyes. “This doesn’t concern you kids. Leave us alone and leave with your skulls intact.”

Clearly, this wasn't going how they expected. They eyed one another, as if to silently dare one another to make a move. A few backed away. Two turned tail and ran. A group of four decided to take the risk and approached, heads low and eyes ominous. Caballeron glanced behind him to see Fleur watching. Though her gaze was hard, he could see the question in her eyes. He snorted and waved a hoof. She got his meaning and, stepping over the guard as if he weren’t even there, entered the building.

By the time Caballeron focused on his foes once more, one was already within striking distance. The mare lunged in what was probably meant to be a tackle. Her movement was sloppy, her actions predictable. Caballeron dropped low and, with a kick of his back legs, slammed his head up into her gut as she passed over him. He heard her gasp as the air left her, and then she tumbled over his back and to the ground. He glanced back for just long enough to deliver a kick to her exposed hind leg, the unmistakable sound of breaking bone filling the parking lot.

The three remaining thugs hesitated, prompting Caballeron to smirk. “What’s the matter, kids? Not used to getting bucked back?”







They hadn’t lasted long. Caballeron left them bleeding and broken, but alive. Maybe after this they’d get out of the crime business and take up less painful occupations, but he wasn’t about to get his hopes up.

The inside of the building was quiet, but he could just hear the telltale sound of magic and screams somewhere ahead. As he walked over the broken tiles and beneath flickering magilights, he took note of the doorways he passed. Some were closed, but every now and then he’d pass by one that was open. Wide eyed ponies stared back at him, shivering and yelping at just his passing glance. There were also bodies in some of the rooms. He didn’t check any of them. He didn’t have to.

Fleur was taking no prisoners tonight.

He followed the screams and begging voices. This brought him up a flight of creaking stairs and into a second floor game room, or at least he guessed it was a game room considering the billiards table in the corner. A glassy-eyed griffon lay on his back atop the table, the butt end of a pool cue just barely sticking out of his open beak. Caballeron didn’t see any broken pieces lying around. A battered pegasus lay against the wall, billiard balls scattered around his corpse and an ugly depression in the side of his head. The sight put ice in Caballeron’s veins.

His ears folded against a piercing scream, and a unicorn went flying out of one of the hallways. She landed on her side in the center of the room, tried to stand and collapsed; her back legs were improperly bent at the knees. Sobbing, she used her forelegs to drag herself towards the stairs.

“Ah, Caballeron.” Fleur stepped into the room, her expression emotionless but her eyes glowing with unused energy. “I’ve found the owner of the saddlebags, but the amulet is gone. Does she look familiar to you?”

He took a quick look, but could determine nothing save the pony was pink with an orange mane. He stomped over and grabbed the mare by the shoulders, prompting her to shriek.

“P-please, don’t kill me! I’ll tell you anything!”

Jerking her around, he got a good look at her tear-streaked face. “No. I don’t recognize her.” She cried out in pain as he shook her forcefully. “You took the amulet, didn’t you? Where is it?”

The mare gripped his fetlocks. “Our fence! I gave it to our fence!”

“Where?” He rocked her so hard her head was flapping back and forth loosely. “We need a location. A name! Where?”

“Wing! His name is Uncle Wing! I don’t know where he is, I swear!”

A hoof touched his shoulder, and Caballeron relented. He dropped the bawling mare and stepped back, letting Fleur have her turn. The Archon stared down at their victim, and Caballeron could feel the icy coldness radiating from her.

Fleur’s voice matched her expression perfectly. “You said he is a fence. He sells your stolen goods.” The mare nodded frantically, unable to reply through her sniffling and hiccups. “Then he is almost certainly in our network. We’ll find him.” She stepped past the mare, moving for the stairs.

Eyebrows raised, Caballeron looked from Fleur to the broken pony on the floor, then back. Well, if Fleur didn’t intend to kill her, he saw no reason to do it himself. With one last glare at the thief, he followed in Fleur’s frigid wake.

“Y-you… you’re letting me go?”

Fleur stiffened, and Caballeron was quick to step out of the way of whatever may be coming. But she never turned around. Instead, she spoke in a quiet voice. “I know who you are. I know everything about you. It’s how I got to you so quickly. Let me make this clear: if you give us a reason to come back for you, any reason at all, you will wish we had killed you now. Don’t make us come back.”

She was gone, passing beyond the stairwell with heavy, stomping steps. Caballeron stared at the shadows where she’d been standing. A bluff? She’d not given any specifics. He could see the signs. And yet, even if all his experience told him she’d been making it up on the spot, he knew he’d have believed her words. No, he did believe her words. Maybe Fleur didn’t know the mare directly, or her family.

But she could find out, he was sure.







August 10, C.Y. 1002 
Manehattan


True to her word, Fleur swiftly learned everything she could about Uncle Wing. She’d used gems hidden in her luggage to swiftly create some sort of communications array, and somehow she gathered information without speaking to anypony. It had taken her less than twenty minutes from arriving back at the hotel to determine that the stallion had a large operation selling stolen goods from gangs in Manehattan, Baltimare, Fillydelphia and Pittspurgh. But he was based out of Fillydelphia, so that was where they were going.

They were on a train within the hour. Caballeron had queried why they weren’t scouring Manehattan for the guy, but Fleur pointed out that they had no means of doing so. There was only one Archon based in the city, and that one couldn’t just clap their hooves and magically know where Uncle Wing was hiding. Besides, the stallion never sold anything outside his shop in Fillydelphia, so he would still have the amulet. All they needed to do was stake out the establishment he used as a front. It should be a simple operation. Easier than pretty much anything else Caballeron had ever done.

Which was why Fleur’s behavior mystified him. They sat across from one another in the private train car, the darkness outside making it seem as if the cabin was the entire world. Fleur stared out the window, incessantly chewing her lip and tapping the tip of her hoof on the edge of the glass. Her ears were folded back and her shoulders kept twitching, as if she were actively trying to keep from tensing up. There were bags under her eyes and she rocked a bit more than the motions of the train seemed to warrant.

Caballeron had been battling with his survival instinct ever since they’d left the hotel, but the more he watched the harder it was to hold his tongue. The struggle was made all the harder by the guilt that had settled like an anchor in his gut. He hadn’t known her for very long, but he’d come to recognize that Fleur was a strong pony, in will as much as in magic. The idea that she might be on the verge of tears seemed wrong on a fundamental level.

But if he said something about it, would she lash out? He might not survive whatever she could dish out. Yet, for all his wariness and fear, he realized he was coming to like Fleur. He sighed upon realizing that their records on him were very accurate; he just couldn’t spend so much time with a pony and not get friendly. It felt different with Fleur, though. He wished he could understand what it was about her, but seeing her like this hurt.

So he finally took the plunge. “You know this is my fault, right?”

She did not react at first, her hoof continuing its relentless tapping. “It’s not all your fault.”

“Bullcrap.” He leaned forward and pressed his hoof to hers, just to stop the sound.

She glanced at where their hooves made contact, then at him. “I don’t hold hooves with just anypony.” Perhaps she’d meant to intimidate, but her haunted gaze and weak tone defied any force the words might have offered.

“I was supposed to be watching the saddlebags,” he said, not taking his hoof away. “That brat slipped past me. It’s not your fault.”

She tugged, and he pulled his hoof back. Folding her legs to her chest in a manner that reminded him strangely of a scared filly, she cast her gaze to the floor. “It was my idea to leave the amulet in such an easy to reach place. You even told me it was stupid, but I…” She let the sentence peter out and heaved a deep sigh.

“Oh, come off it!” When his snap failed to elicit a reaction, he groaned and sat back in his seat. “I don’t understand you. You could pass this off as my fault easily. Like your boss would take my word over yours. Just tell him I’m responsible and let me take the heat.”

Her brow furrowed. “You don’t really want that.”

“Buck, no! But that shouldn’t stop you from doing it anyway. Seems like the ‘Archon’ thing to do.”

“You don’t understand.”

Growling, he lay down in his seat and scowled at the window. “Then make me understand. What’s so bad about losing this thing for a little while? Is Celestia that much of a hardass?”

He saw her shift out the corner of his eye. Her words came out subdued. “Celestia is more frightening than you know, but it is not her that worries me.”

“Then it’s the Mane Archon.” He glanced at her, but she was facing away from him now. “I’m guessing he’ll have a harsh punishment?”

Fleur’s shoulders slumped. “He doesn’t have to. It’s enough that I messed up.”

His ears perked at this. He sensed he was finally getting to the bottom of things, and so reined in his anger to speak softly. “What do you mean?”

A quiet descended upon them. He watched as she took slow, steadying breaths. Perhaps his suspicions were correct, and she really was on the verge of a breakdown. Still, he said nothing and waited. Pressing her now just didn’t feel like the right move, no matter how eager he was to do so.

He was at last rewarded; Fleur turned back to the window and settled onto her barrel, chin tucked between her fetlocks. “Fine Crime, the Mane Archon? He… practically raised me. He saved me from a life of misery, pain and worthlessness. Through him I attained purpose, desire, strength, and a chance to act on all of them. He means more to me than life itself.”

She covered her eyes and shuddered. “And I’ve let him down.”

Caballeron stared at her, momentarily stunned. He’d anticipated some sort of confession, but this bearing of her soul was far more than he’d hoped for. It felt almost as if he were learning something sacred.

“Fine Crime doesn’t have to punish me,” she whispered. “Knowing that I let something so stupid happen is bad enough, and he’ll know it.”

“B-but wait.” Caballeron raised a hoof, even though she couldn’t see it. “Why does he have to know?”

She raised her head just enough to glare at him with one narrow eye. It shined in the dim lighting, but she’d not broken into tears yet. “I’m not lying to him, Cruelles. That would make it infinitely worse! And besides…” She buried her head in her hooves once more. “He’ll know something is up the moment we don’t arrive in Canterlot on time. I’ll be sending him a letter in the morning to explain myself. I just… can’t write it now.”

What was he supposed to say to that? Everything that came to mind seemed shallow and unhelpful. He understood what it meant to be close to somepony, but his relationship with Silty didn’t seem much like Fleur’s situation. The more he thought about it, the less he felt he could contribute to a solution. Feeling helpless, he turned away and rested his chin in his hooves.

He half expected her to start crying. He lingered in silence, body rocking to the rhythmic motions of the train and feeling the tiniest of aches in his chest. After a time, he glanced towards her… only to discover that she’d fallen asleep.

He remained awake long after, pondering his renewed awareness that even Archons were equine.







August 13, C.Y. 1002 
Manehattan


They spent three days in Fillydelphia, hiding away in an Archon safehouse while they waited for word that Uncle Wing was back in town. The place wasn’t half as nice as the hotels they’d been staying in, but Fleur had been too distracted to make note of it. The Mane Archon had sent a response, but it had been very brief:



Circumstances noted. Contact as soon as amulet is recovered.



That was it. No threats, no reassurance. Merely an acknowledgement. Caballeron thought it might be a positive sign. After all, the Mane Archon wasn’t punishing them, so it couldn’t be all that bad.

Fleur, however, took the letter hard. To her, the lack of reaction in the letter was itself a punishment. She believed that her master had done it specifically to let her stew in her own doubt and fear. And no matter how Caballeron tried to comfort her in his own bumbling way, it worked. The poor mare was a nervous wreck, rarely seen outside her room and barely eating the meals he brought in. Not once did she cry, but Caballeron was sure she’d come close many times since the letter.

It had been a long time since he’d felt so useless.

On the afternoon of the third day, word came in from the Archon network that Uncle Wing would be back in town that evening. Fleur sobered with the news, and that night she stalked the Fillydelphia streets like a beast of quiet fury. Caballeron went with her, of course, but he felt more like a servant following along to try and prevent disaster than a wolf on the hunt. He moved in her wake, always behind, hoping that the matter would be settled tonight.

Uncle Wing’s home and shop was located in the western slums of the city. Even with the address on hoof, it proved tricky to find. They came upon a long street of brick buildings, each identical to the next. Every building had multiple access doors, and they knew that each led to a different home or business. Since none of the places here were practicing anything remotely legal, none of them sported any signage or even street numbers. Caballeron feared they’d have to make a ruckus entering a few wrong doors before finding the right one, assuming Uncle Wing didn’t flee with the first incorrect guess.

So it surprised him when Fleur marched straight for a door just like any of the others, skipping several as she glared at their destination. He could only assume she’d somehow known exactly which one to go to, although he couldn’t fathom how.

Another surprise: she didn’t smash through the door. The handle shined in her magical aura for all of two seconds before the deadbolt turned and the door was unlocked. She passed through as a shadow, and Caballeron shivered at the thought of what she could do to a sleeping pony. With one last glance to make sure their arrival had gone unnoticed, he stepped in and closed the door behind them, making sure to lock it.

If the outside didn’t bother to advertise this place’s purpose, the inside did the job well. A wide range of items were found on display all over the shop floor. There were fake artifacts, easily recognizable to Caballeron’s trained eye, but more alarming was how many were real. He even saw the Scepter of Golden Smiles, a rather strange relic that Caballeron himself had retrieved from a temple back when he’d still been working for Chasing-the-Green-Wind. That alone probably made Uncle Wing a big name in the black market.

Fleur wandered the small shop floor, scanning the assorted trinkets with little interest. She looked for all the world like a regular shopper. Wondering at her game, he decided to play along. Exploring the small shop brought back memories, even if most of the things here were little more than cheap knockoffs. Caballeron had never felt proud of his past, but seeing a few genuine articles among the trash made him feel guilty. He’d once stood for something, and he threw that life away to deliver treasures to creeps that owned seedy places like this. At least he knew the Archons appreciated his acquisitions.

“I see I have visitors.”

Uncle Wing emerged from a nearby hallway, a wry smile on his lips. Despite what his name suggested, he was a grey earth pony. His night blue mane was tied back in a tight ponytail and he wore heavy clothing reminiscent of travelers in the Qilin lands. He didn’t seem at all bothered by two strangers being in his store after closing time.

Maintaining his smirk, Uncle Wing walked over to his counter and rested a hoof next to the cash register. “You two strike me as ponies looking for something… unique. I appreciate that you were eager enough to break into my shop while it’s closed. Why don’t you let me know what you are after so we can haggle?”

Caballeron looked to Fleur and was startled to see her smiling. Not just any smile, but the kind he knew she put on for the common pony, the sort that melted hearts and dislodged suspicion. “Why, yes,” she cooed, prancing to the counter. “We already know exactly what we want, just as we already know that you have it. I’m so sorry about picking your lock, but my companion was just so eager. He can be quite the hooffull at times.” She pouted at Caballeron, and somehow he actually found himself feeling ashamed. He stared at her, stumped by this unexpected turn of events.

Uncle Wing chuckled and shook his head. “It’s quite alright, my lady. Just keep him in check long enough for us to make the transaction, hmm? If I don’t have what you are after, perhaps I can acquire it for you.”

“Oh, you have it.” She batted her eyelashes and leaned against the counter. “We want… an amulet. The Alicorn Amulet, to be precise.”

The shopkeeper seemed to stumble in place. His eyes narrowed for all of a second before he regained his smooth smile. “You must have an impressive network to already know I had that.”

Caballeron couldn’t pass up the opportunity to say, “Only the best.”

“I’m sure.” Uncle Wing adjusted his glasses, not taking his eyes off Fleur. “I’m sorry to say that you’ve missed it. The Alicorn Amulet was just sold to somepony, and I doubt she’ll be interested in giving it back.”

The smile on Fleur’s face cracked, but only in a blink it had returned. “I beg your pardon? I was under the impression you only sold your wares here.”

“True.” Uncle Wing chuckled and shrugged. “Normally. But this pony saw what I had and made an offer I couldn’t refuse.”

Caballeron tensed, watching Fleur as his stomach twisted. Just what would she do to the shopkeeper?

But she remained composed. She sat back and sighed in the breathy manner of a disappointed socialite. “That’s too bad, we probably could have beaten her price. No matter, we will simply have to approach the mare in question.” Her lovely smile came back and she batted her eyelashes. Her voice was like silken honey. “Would you be so kind as to tell us her name? I’m sure we could find her with that alone.”

With all the care of a doting father, Uncle Wing reached over the counter to pat Fleur’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, young lady. In a business like this, it is important that things remain anonymous. I cannot possibly give you such information.”

Out came the pout, Fleur’s tail wrapping around her haunches and her head lowering. “Are you sure? We can pay you for the information. Nopony has to know.”

“And ruin my reputation?” The shopkeeper shook his head. “No, it cannot be done.”

And still, Fleur didn’t snap. Caballeron knew she had to be raging on the inside, and her ability to hold back was nothing short of amazing. Where had that restraint been back at the hotel in Manehattan? Her method fascinated him, but also mystified.

Fleur’s smile slowly turned wry. “Are you sure about that? Curio Shopkeeper?”

Uncle Wing froze, his eye bugging. “W-where did you hear that name?”

Her voice shifted to something more direct and a lot less ‘filly.’ “As my friend told you, we have the best network in the world.” It was her business voice, and Caballeron knew the game was about to be over. He rolled his shoulders, ready to do whatever she needed to end this conversation.

The shopkeeper’s eyes darted between them. His face lost some of its color. “Who do you work for?”

Moving with purposeful slowness, Fleur reached into her mane and pulled out a small medallion. She placed it on the counter, the curve of her lips a wicked sight. Uncle Wing leaned forward to view the object, and Caballeron too. He recognized the sun-shaped object anywhere; it was the cutie mark of Celestia.

The shopkeeper swallowed audibly, the last of the color draining from his cheeks. He lightly kicked the medallion back to Fleur, as if it might be made of fire, and took a step back from them. “I don’t want any trouble.”

The medallion flew back into Fleur’s mane. Her words came out with all the hardness of granite. “Then you will give us a name.”

“I… but…” His eyes darted about as if in search of an escape. “P-please, you must understand. In this business, information is—”

“Let me be more clear.” Fleur’s horn sparked as her eyes narrowed. “If you don’t give me a name by the time I finish talking, I’ll have a pony watching your every move for the rest of your natural life. Every pony you ever do business with will be crushed under the hooves of the Archons. They might be killed, or imprisoned, or perhaps every deal they’ll make after yours will go horribly, horribly wrong. Or maybe we’ll murder their entire families. Whatever we choose to do, it will always be after you dealt with them, and ponies will gradually come to understand that you, Curio Shopkeeper, are cursed. Your business will dry up, your life will be over. Even if you decide to play legally from now on, we’ll still destroy every pony you seek to work with. We will—”

“Trixie! Her name was Trixie, that’s all I know!”

Fleur’s mouth was open… and it remained so. Her ears slowly rose with her eyebrows. “Trixie? Describe her?”

Trembling against the wall like he hoped to squeeze through the cracks, Uncle Wing nodded frantically. “Sh-she’s blue. W-with a minty mane! Y-you know, a lighter blue?” He flinched when Fluer sucked in a sharp breath and began babbling. “Sh-she wore a cape and a pointy hat! Her cutie mark was a wand w-with a cape or a swirl or or something and she liked to speak in the third person and mentioned something about getting revenge against some town near—”

A small, thin beam struck his forehead, eliciting a high-pitched yelp. An instant later, he dropped to the floor and began snoring.

Caballeron ignored the stallion’s collapse in favor of studying Fleur. She possessed a thoughtful expression, her eyes on the floorboards and a fetlock rubbing her chin. “You know who this Trixie is, don’t you?”

With a glance in his direction, Fleur nodded. “Oh, yes. It’s hard for me not to know of her.”

He cast his gaze around at the artifacts, real and fake, adorning the shop. If she was somepony who knew about the Alicorn Amulet… “Is she dangerous?”

“I wouldn’t think so, no. But she is a pony of great interest to the Archons. I’m afraid I can’t go further into it.”

“Ah.” Caballeron grimaced. “Archon secrets and all that.”

Fleur’s expression soured. She promptly moved for the exit. “Not this time, not really. It’s just that I don’t feel I have the right to discuss the matter. It is a private one relating to a fellow member of the Order.”

“Wait, what order?” He looked from her to the unconscious Uncle Wing. “And what about him?”

She spoke with calm authority. “Forget him. We have what we need, and he’s of more use to us alive and on the job.”

So that lengthy threat had been a bluff? Caballeron thought about just what she’d told the stallion and found himself doubting it. Regardless, he could see no reason to argue her point. He hurried to follow her outside. “And the order?”

She paused, brow furrowing as she thought on his query. “Normally I’d refuse to answer, but under the circumstances… all you need to know is that the Order comprises an elite team of Archons. Think of them as the Mane Archon’s lieutenants.”

They proceeded down the street, and Caballeron took the opportunity to go over everything he’d come to learn. A organization within the Archons. The thought was a little frightening. Weren’t Archons secretive enough without a special team among their ranks? He’d seen what the average Archon could do. The idea that there were ponies out there even better than that chilled his blood.

And then he remembered what Fleur could do, which was above and beyond anything he’d witnessed in an Archon in the past. She had to be a member of this ‘Order.’ If she really was the Mane Archon’s apprentice, she was probably high ranking even among those elites. By the stars, she had been frightening enough as it was! He couldn’t wait to hoof this Alicorn Amulet over to the Mane Archon and be done with her entirely.

Then again…

No, he didn’t want to go down that route tonight. The Archons had helped him get to Yearling, which hadn’t gone at all like he’d planned. Now that his main goal was… somewhat accomplished, he had no need to continue working for them. He should quit. Retire. Go do something legitimate, like maybe teach in some obscure town. He used to like teaching. But then, what school would ever hire a known criminal? And even if he changed his name and falsified records, he held no illusions that he could fool the Archons. Would they allow him to walk away, just like that?

He gritted his teeth; these thoughts were getting him nowhere. He had to make sure he survived his current ‘mission’ first, which meant worrying about the Alicorn Amulet. “So how big of a problem is this Trixie going to be?”

They’d trotted out of the slums, but were not headed for the safehouse. Now that he paid attention, Caballeron realized they were moving for the train station. Fleur didn’t look back as she answered. “Trixie having the amulet makes things simpler, but more complicated as well. Simple, because there’s only one place she would go if her interests involved revenge. It so happens that it’s on the way to Canterlot.”

Well, that was good to hear. “And what’s the complicated part?”

She huffed and shook her head. “A lot of important ponies are now involved, and we’ll have to tread carefully. I’ll have to contact another Archon who will want in on this, and then we’ve got to make sure things don’t get out of hoof. If things go poorly then Celestia herself could directly intervene.”

Caballeron paused, but only for a moment. He hurried to catch up, walking at her side to give her a worried look. “It’s that big a deal?”

Fleur grimaced. “Like I said, it’s complicated. We’re going to be tiptoeing around the demesne of Twilight Sparkle.”

That made his eyes widen. “Celestia’s student?” At her nod, he let out a low groan.

She was right, this was going to get complicated.







August 18, C.Y. 1002 
Ponyville


‘Ponyville’ had to be the dumbest name for a town Caballeron had ever heard. It would be like the griffons having a ‘Catbird Town’ or the buffalo having a ‘Cow City.’ Being an earth pony himself, he found the common stereotypical views of earth ponies as simpletons a tad insulting, but with a name like that who could blame locals for the assumption? He didn’t know what silly ponies thought up the name, but he imagined they’d ended their lives in shame.

Caballeron and Fleur got to the town by train, arriving close to sunset. They quickly realized that something was wrong. Part of it had to do with the lack of ponies in the area when they stepped into the streets, or the smoke rising in the sky. But really, the primary tipoff was the sound of magic, roaring and screams going on in the distance. Clearly, some sort of major event was ongoing.

“This can’t be good,” Fleur grumbled as they moved towards the center of town at a trot.

They found a crowd around Town Hall, ponies huddling in fear as lasers and fireworks went off in the sky. The ponies broke wide when a brown earth pony came running past with smoke trailing from his tail and flying clocks banging at the back of his skull. Fleur and Caballeron watched him pass in bafflement, then shared alarmed looks before pushing their way through the crowd.

A bombastic voice called out over the ponies as they neared the center. “That’s right, you fools! Thought you could mock the Great and Powerful Trixie, did you? Who’s laughing now, Ponyville? Who’s laughing now?”

They came upon the opening near town hall, and Caballeron could only gap at the scene. The pony apparently known as Trixie stood atop the steps of Town Hall, a malicious grin on her lips as she gazed upon the victims of her magic. One grey-maned earth pony hung upside down by her tail from the town flag pole, the flag on which had been changed to show a bust silhouette of Trixie. Another earth pony, this one orange with a brown stetson, was locked in a metal cage, her body weighed down by iron shackles and her lips sealed with an apple far too big for the purpose. A quartet of pegasi were flouncing about in some mud, their tails tied together in knots, and a nearby grey unicorn sobbed while holding her horn in her hooves in spite of no visible head wound.

Trixie reared up and flailed her legs with a triumphant laugh. “Where is Twilight Sparkle? It’s time I proved to everypony that Trixie is the greatest unicorn alive!” Only now did Caballeron notice the Alicorn Amulet around her neck.

Fleur began to walk backwards out of the crowd, keeping her head down, and Caballeron followed suite. He brought his head close to hers so his whisper could be heard over the commotion. “You’re not going to prove her wrong?”

“I don’t know what that amulet does yet,” she replied with equal care. “For all I know, it’s superpowered her or something. Now that I know where it is, I need to wait for the other Archon to show with more information. We’ll find a place to lay low outside of town.”

An explosion rocked the area and a pony screamed, making Caballeron’s ears fold back. “What about Twilight? Won’t she come try to put a stop to this?”

Fleur shook her head. “Not if Celestia tells her to stay at the Gates.”

They broke from the crowd and trotted away, unnoticed.
> Book V - Cruelles Caballeron: The Long Wait
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------




I never really believed in Celestia, but I also didn’t have a problem with her. Why should I? She seemed a decent enough ruler. Not perfect, but she’s only equine. I’m just a lowly crook, I’ve got no room to judge.

That’s how I used to look at things. Now I’ve seen her hoofwork.

The Archons mean a lot more to me now than a mere paycheck. I’ve met two members of the Order. I’ve learned what they’ve been through, what they’re doing under Celestia’s hawkish gaze. I feel like there might be something there, something worth my time. Something better than the petty revenge I wasted so much time to.

I’m just a crook. That’s all I’ll ever be.

Here’s hoping even a crook can do the right thing every now and then.

—Cruelles Caballeron, Book of Shadows XLVIII,
November 12, 1002
Excerpt from personal diaries, translated from Palabras del Sur, June 16, 1007










August 22, C.Y. 1002 
Whitetail Woods


Caballeron never expected Fleur to readily accept living out of a tent so soon after their return from the Mongolian plateau. Yet that is exactly what she did, purchasing the proper supplies from the town and jumping right back in without so much as a groan.

She was in Ponyville at the moment, gone to collect the other Archon that had been sent to help deal with the ongoing crises. It appeared ‘the Great and Powerful’ Trixie was a tyrant, having claimed the entire region as her domain. Still, she didn’t make for an impressive show; her villainous deeds included such things as making ponies drag her golden throne around with no wheels, trying to get the local farms to grow unrealistic produce such as skinless apples, and changing every banner and flag to bear her image. He wondered when she’d upgrade to stealing candy from yearlings.

There was little to do in the nearby Whitetail Woods. He spent his time practicing with Boomer, writing in his journal, and wandering the local forest. In his boredom, he was considering heading to the town to see if he couldn’t meet Fleur halfway, just for the change in scenery. It was at around this time that the mare finally returned, followed by a white pony with a shockingly blue mane and the tackiest shades he had ever seen. The newcomer was a unicorn, and her horn pulsed with a barely visible aura.

“Cruelles,” Fleur said as the two of them came upon the unlit campfire. “I trust you’ve been keeping yourself entertained?”

“As entertained as I can be,” he grumbled. He studied the stranger, noting how she wasn’t looking directly at him. “Who’s this?”

At the query Fleur stood between them and gestured to each in turn. “Cruelles, meet Vinyl Scratch, musician. Vinyl, Cruelles Caballeron, archaeologist.”

He was half-tempted to correct her on the title; he was not an archaeologist, not anymore. But he resisted in the name of expediency, instead offering Vinyl his hoof. “A pleasure.”

“Back at ya.” A pause. Vinyl’s horn gave the tiniest of pulses, and her attention promptly snapped to his hoof. Only then did she bump it.

That was… strange. Perhaps it was best not to dwell on it. “So, you’re here to give us some instructions?”

“That’s right. From the princess herself.”

Out the corner of his eye, Caballeron noted Fleur’s wince. How bad could it be? Surely Celestia would understand the circumstances. He was probably in far more trouble than her. “Alright, what’s the news?”

Vinyl grimaced and sat. When Fleur did the same, Caballeron decided to follow her example. “Alright, I’ll just get to the point,” Vinyl said. “Trixie is not to be touched. She’s free to do as she wants. The amulet stays around her neck until Celestia chooses to send somepony else to deal with her.”

Fleur let out a low groan, but Caballeron found the news appealing. It was out of his hooves. Now they could move on to other things. His pleasure faded quickly upon realizing that he didn’t really have an ‘other thing’ to move on to.

Before he could go any further down that train of thought, Vinyl continued. “You two are to stay here and observe. Strictly non-interference.”

His ears shot up. “Wait, what? You mean we’ve got to become residents of that boring little town and submit to that overgrown child’s antics until Celestia says otherwise?”

“No.” Vinyl’s head turned his way, but her focus appeared to be somewhere over his shoulder. “You two are to stay here, in the woods, and keep an eye on that ‘overgrown child.’” She said the last two words with a growl.

Caballeron narrowed his eyes at her. If she was so angry by his terminology, why wouldn’t she look in him the eye? “And what are you going to be doing? Or are you just a message bearer?”

“I’m gonna be in Ponyville. Also watching.”

He felt his eyebrows shoot up. He turned to Fleur, but she had her head bowed in clear defeat. When she had nothing to say, he turned back to Vinyl. “What the hay makes you so special that you’re allowed to live in town?”

“You’re the ones that bucked up,” Vinyl replied calmly. She tilted her head Fleur’s direction, but again, failed to look at her directly. “No offense, Fleur.”

Fleur responded with a despondent “None taken. It’s the truth.”

“And besides, my orders don’t come from Celestia, only yours do.” Vinyl’s ears folded back as she glanced away. “The Mane Archon… gave this one to me.”

“Gave it to you?” Caballeron raised an eyebrow at that. “As in you requested to be part of this miserable duty? What the hay for?”

Vinyl pursed her lips, head bowing just slightly. She seemed to be carefully considering her answer. At last, voice subdued, she said, “Trixie and I have history.”

“So you’re going to be in town, enjoying a comfortable bed and the local amenities, while we’re—”

“Cruelles.” He looked to Fleur, who was watching him with a hard expression. “Don’t.”

He growled. “You’re okay with this?”

“There are things at play here you don’t understand yet,” she replied with no less firmness. “Vinyl has every right to be there. She’s owed this.”

“Owed?” He glared at Vinyl. She was staring off into space. “You got a problem looking me in the eye?”

Her expression hardened. Fleur let out a faint hiss. Caballeron only continued his stare. Who did this creature think she was? Just because he wasn’t an Archon, she could treat him as if he wasn’t even there? He wasn’t about to let this aristocratic foal—

His venomous thoughts sputtered out when Vinyl slowly raised her hoof, pulling her shades away from her eyes. The moment they were gone, the air around her head flickered and shifted until, like a grotesque flower, burn scars bloomed across the upper half of her face. Ensconced in those rough bumps were two pale red eyes that gazed without focusing on anything. Her horn pulsed once, and those muted irises shifted to his face… but not quite to his eyes.

“Yes,” she replied with cool calmness. “As a matter of fact, I do.”

Caballeron felt a tightness in his chest. He couldn’t stop scowling, but his anger was no longer directed outward. “I… see.”

“I don’t.” The shades were replaced as quickly as they’d been removed, and the scars disappeared instantly. “Now if you don’t mind, I’d like to explain the Alicorn Amulet.”

“Please do.” Fleur’s voice was almost as chilled as Vinyl’s had been. “I’m sure Caballeron won’t interrupt you again. Isn’t that right?”

He said nothing. His tongue might betray him again.

Once clear that he had nothing to add to the conversation, Vinyl started in earnest. “There’s nothing too complicated about the Alicorn Amulet. According to Celestia, it’s primary purpose is to up the magical power of the unicorn wearing it. The idea, of course, is that it gives a unicorn alicorn-level strength. Right now Trixie’s got more magical oomph than most ponies could even dream of.”

Fleur nodded. “I was afraid it would be something like that, which is why I didn’t engage her from the beginning.”

Vinyl raised a hoof, stopping Fleur before she could say whatever else was on her tongue. “Thievery won’t work. I know you’re good at that, Fleur, but don’t try. The amulet can’t be slipped off her neck from the shadows. According to Celestia, it can only be removed by the pony wearing it.”

A short stomp was all Fleur needed to show her opinion on that matter. “Wonderful. So much for this being easy. And what else?”

“Just one other thing.” Vinyl cringed and turned her face away. The corner of her lip pulled back to show her teeth. “The amulet corrupts the user. Every minute Trixie wears the thing, she’ll get more and more depraved and vicious.”

“Oh.” Fleur’s eyes widened and her ears drooped. “Oh, Vinyl. I’m so sorry.”

Vinyl snorted and shook her head. “I know you are, Fleur. It’s alright. Well, no, it’s not, but I understand things were out of your control.”

Despite lacking a lot of context, Caballeron flinched. Neither mare looked at him, and the fact made him want to slink away. Perhaps he could hide in one of the tents until the fire in their eyes died down a bit. But no, he’d never get away with that. What was it about this situation that made him feel like the bad guy? Not that he wasn’t used to the feeling.

After an uncomfortable silence passed, Fleur finally spoke up. “Alright, so Celestia wants us to wait. How long?”

“She didn’t say.” Vinyl sighed and rubbed her mane back with a pout. “Of course.”

Fleur blinked. “You mean she intends for me and Cruelles to stay out here until she sends somepony else to deal with Trixie?”

“Yep.” Vinyl waved a dismissive hoof. “Fine said he’d give you some oversight duties while you’re here, things that can be handled with a scroll and a teleportation potion. Just to keep you busy with Archon stuff and make it not a complete waste of time. You know the princess.”

“Yes,” Fleur growled, “I do.”

Caballeron could take it no more; he had to speak up. “Am I missing something?”

Fleur pierced him with her icy gaze. “Odds are we’re going to be out here for a long time.”

He took in their forested surroundings and recalled how bored he’d been the last few days. “How long?”

“Weeks for sure,” Fleur replied, turning away from him. “Possibly months.”

With a long-winded groan, he slumped onto his barrel. “I can’t believe this. Why? What possible purpose could that serve?”

“Purpose?” Vinyl snorted and turned away. “The ‘purpose’ is the personal suffering of all involved. You two get to watch the consequences of your actions from the sidelines, unable to do a damn thing about it. I get to watch somepony close to me steadily ruin her future and become the target of hate and bitterness for the rest of her life. And then, somepony else comes in and claims the credit for putting an end to the mess. Possibly Celestia herself. Maybe her apprentice. Either way, the four of us?”

“Four of us?”

Vinyl flicked her tail, jaw tensing. “You, Fleur, me, and Trixie. One big miserable…” A wine escaped her throat as she sagged. “Family.”

“Best get comfortable, Cruelles,” Fleur grumbled from by the tents. “We’re going to be here for a while.”








August 30, C.Y. 1002 
Ponyville


“You there!”

Caballeron cringed. Not at the obnoxiously loud voice. Celestia help him, he was actually getting used to that. No, what brought about his folded ears and grinding teeth was the awareness that this particular outburst had been aimed at himself. Granted, there was no way he could predict that Trixie would actually look at him, much less call him out, but this was still exactly the opposite of what was supposed to be happening.

Looking up from where he’d been sitting on the park bench, he peered at the now-infamous Trixie Lulamoon. She lounged upon that golden monstrosity of a throne, the four sweaty earth ponies who had been pulling it taking a clearly needed break. Laying on her side, flicking her mane like the Bridleway diva she so clearly wasn’t, Trixie leveled him with a cool, red-eyed stare down her muzzle. The Alicorn Amulet taunted him from about her neck with its similarly red glow.

They had discussed this, Fleur and Vinyl and him. They had a protocol. To Caballeron it was the equivalent of poking nails in the leading edge of his frog, but he’d agreed to it because he’d had no choice. And so, keeping his grumbling to himself, he climbed off the bench and approached.

He had to play to her whims. “What can I do for you, Great and Powerful One?” He didn’t have to keep the disdain from his voice.

Trixie’s eyes narrowed. There came a flash within her irises, a now-known sign that the amulet was pressing some sort of ill desire into her mind. Caballeron did his best not to brace, aware that doing so may only make his situation worse.

“You will refer to Trixie by her name, slave. The opportunity to utter it is nothing short of a brilliant gift upon all ponies’ ears, and you insult that gift by not invoking the name Trixie at every opportunity. Do not spurn Trixie’s kindness again!”

Choking on his tongue, it took a few seconds for him to formulate a ‘correct’ response. “My apologies. What can I do for you, Great and Powerful Trixie?”

She gave a derogatory sniff and turned her face away, eyeing some random nothing in the distance. “Trixie is worn out from gracing the peasants with her glorious presence. Fetch Trixie some refreshments, so that Trixie may cool off.”

That was all? Well, at least he hadn’t been saddled with something extreme. “As the Great and Powerful Trixie commands. Is there a particular refreshment she would desire?”

She waved her hoof dismissively. “Do not pester Trixie with such details. Go.”

So he went, happy to be out of her presence. Vinyl had no doubt witnessed this little exchange and would be moving to intercept him. Weird how she could do that when she couldn’t see the shades on her face. She had some magical means of observation, but he’d yet to figure it out and neither she nor Fleur deigned to educate him on the matter.

Sure enough, he’d hardly left the park when a familiar voice spoke from his left. “She likes lemon water. There’s a decent bakery down Trottenheimer Street with some.”

He glanced at Vinyl, who trotted alongside him as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “How do you know so much about what she likes?” When Vinyl didn’t answer, he ‘harumphed’ and made for the aforementioned bakery. “Might as well grab something for us while we’re there.”

They walked in silence amidst the tasteless banners and flashy neon signs that had been conjured out of nowhere a few days ago. The bakery was soon in view. Curious how, despite the current circumstances, business appeared to be going on as usual. Did Ponyvillians just go with whatever was happening at any given time, even if that something was a megalomaniac on a power binge?

As they entered the store, Vinyl asked, “How are you and Fleur holding up?”

He paused to look back at her. This was the first time she’d expressed any interest at all in their circumstances. What was she after? A quick look around confirmed no pony was paying them any attention. “We’re doing well enough for two ponies forced to live in tents on the outskirts of a town that still has a perfectly good inn.”

She nodded, her expression unreadable behind her shades. “Sorry you have to put up with this.”

“Are you really?” He stepped into line behind the only other customer at the counter.

“I am, really.” Her tone lost just a touch of its neutrality, taking on a weary manner. “I know what it’s like to be caught in something you never wanted to be a part of.”

He might have said something to that were it not his turn at the counter. As he gave his order to the frazzled mare running the register, he idly wondered how long it would be before they were obligated to serve Trixie-themed items. He posed the question and was rewarded with a tired smile. The mare informed him that, no, Trixie had not come into the shop with such demands just yet, but now that he’d mentioned it they should probably start brainstorming for the inevitability.

With Trixie’s lemon water in hoof – and a couple apple juices and sandwiches for himself and Vinyl – he turned his attention back to his companion. “I complain, but I only do it because there’s nothing better to do. I’ve spent at least two thirds of my life living out of tents.”

Vinyl took the sandwich and her juice from him without having to be prompted. “Thanks. Yeah, I figured you’d be fine. Fleur’s… well, let’s just say she’s going back to her roots.”

They stepped back into the street. Caballeron took his first bite of his BLT and concluded that it was well worth the bits. If Ponyville had anything going for it, it was the citizens’ apparently universal desire to make high quality products. “I’d ask your meaning, but know you’d not tell me anything.”

“That’s right.” She nibbled on her own lunch, brow furrowed. “Not because of the job, though. It’s private. You wanna know that bit, you gotta get it from the horse’s mouth.”

“In other words, if Fleur doesn’t tell me, nopony will.”

“Yep.”

That was… fair. “And I don’t suppose you’ll be opening up to me anytime soon?”

An eyebrow rose from behind the shades. He idly wondered if it was really hers or part of the illusion. “Sorry, dude, but I barely know you.”

Also fair. And seeing as they would probably never see one another again after this ‘mission’, he promptly gave up on learning anything about her. “In that case, is there anything you can tell me for the sake of making sure our friendly local leader doesn’t turn me into a red smear on the ground with that artifact Fleur and I worked so hard for?”

It was several steps before he realized Vinyl was no longer at his side. When he looked over his shoulder, he saw her with head hung low and shoulders limp. Great. What did he say this time?

“It won’t come to that,” Vinyl whispered. “She’s… she’s better than that. I’m sure of it. Trixie’s a good pony. She is.”

He listened to her mutterings, shifting as he waited. What was she going on about? He finished his sandwich, too focused on Vinyl’s distraught appearance to properly enjoy it. When he finished the meal and Vinyl still hadn’t looked up, he cleared his throat. No response.

“Miss Scratch?”

She tensed, but only for a moment. Shaking her head as if to clear it, she resumed walking, though her posture only barely improved. “Sorry. It’s nothing.”

She didn’t go with him to see Trixie, disappearing into a side alley once the park was near. Her manner continued to plague him. Why did this bother him so much? Not even Trixie tossing the lemon water in his face could distract him too much from the troubled thoughts.

“It’s warm! Go get Trixie another!”








September 15, C.Y. 1002 
Whitetail Woods


Fleur was in one of her moods. Caballeron, sitting with his forelegs resting on a nearby tree stump, lost interest in his book and instead focused on his companion. She sat by the fire, magic slowly stirring the pot that contained their stew. Very slowly. She was staring at the pot’s contents as if it were responsible for the death of her parents, lips pursed and eyes burning. Her breathing was heavy and deliberate, as if even that were part of her careful actions.

What had set her off this time? It wasn’t anything he’d said, as he’d not said anything to her in a few hours. They did that a lot lately; long, quiet spells where both were content to just be in the same space. Such periods were once awkward. Now they were natural. Caballeron sometimes even found himself looking forward to that part of the day, when they had both had their turns observing Trixie’s shenanigans and had nothing to do but hang around the camp.

But sometimes, like now, Fleur would get moody. He never knew what might cause it at any given time, and he could at least take comfort in that fact that he wasn’t the source. Usually. She rarely spoke during these times, and he typically chose not to pester her about it. As much as she had the capacity to grandstand, he was coming to learn that Fleur was a much more private individual than appearances would suggest. Perhaps it was an Archon quality.

Yet this evening he felt… differently. The urge to talk was stronger than usual. As much as he feared the possibility of offending her when she was already in such a bitter state, he also knew she could be the most pliable at times like these. He gave his odds of coming out of a query unscathed thirty/seventy. Not great, but he wanted to risk it tonight. Why he wanted to risk it, he couldn’t fathom.

“Are you alright?”

Her ear flapped, as if to be rid of a mosquito. “I’m fine.”

Basic survival instinct told him to leave it at that. He ignored it, getting up to approach the fire. He settled perpendicular to her position and watched. Her focus on the stew was intense. He half wondered if her gaze made the fire redundant. “I can take over if you need a break.”

“I said I’m fine.”

Some cruel spirit took hold of his foreleg, and before he knew it he’d set it in the way of the steadily rotating spoon. Fleur’s shoulders tensed even more as she looked down on him with a withering frown. “What are you doing, Cruelles?”

He said nothing. Only stared back at her with a patience he’d forgotten he had.

They remained that way for an indeterminable time, her looming and him calm. He knew he should be frightened by her manner, but he couldn’t feel any such thing. Perhaps a few weeks of mundanity had made him willing to deal with any excitement, even the kind that might get him killed. Or perhaps he’d spent so much time with Fleur that he was coming to know how far he could push. That, combined with the concern he fought less and less to deny to himself every day. It was so rare for him to work with any one pony for more than two weeks, and Fleur…

How long had he been working with her?

His thoughts helped him weather her menace. She, it seemed, had no such defense against his unyielding presence. So it was that she broke first, her head turning back to the pot as her gaze softened. “I apologize. I shouldn’t be directing my anger at you.”

“It’s fine.” He tilted his head to better see her face. She moved to avoid his look. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s—” She bit her lip, and clenched her eyes closed. She shook from tail to ear tip before releasing a long, slow exhale. “Why do you want to know? It has nothing to do with the mission.”

That only made him want to know more. Now it was his turn to look away. “You’ve read my file.”

She cast a glance at him. Slowly, her lips turned up in the smallest of smiles. A warm one that made him blush. Him. Blushing. What was he, a pubescent colt? Not that it had anything to do with her looks, not this time. He hadn’t felt this way since… since before his time in prison, come to think of it.

“Yes,” she finally said. “I suppose I have.” Turning her attention back to the pot, she resumed stirring. He thought perhaps that would be the end of the ‘conversation,’ if it could be called that.

But then Fleur spoke again in a thick accent he’d never heard from her before. “Did I tell you I vas born in Grypha?”

The words gave him pause. “N… No.”

There was that small smile again. “Is not common knowledge,” she admitted. When she spoke next, the accent was gone. “From the pieces I’ve managed to pull together, my great grandmother did something that offended Celestia. She moved to Grypha hoping to escape, and the Archons elected to leave her be. I was born in a small, rural town in the Griffa Plains.”

She raised the spoon. Tilted it. Watched the soup pour back into the pot. “My mother died in childbirth. I had two older brothers. They and... and the stallion who sired me blamed me for her death, and they treated me accordingly.”

The spoon fell, splashing into the pot. “I was trash. They ‘permitted’ me to cook them their meals every morning. They got eggs and hay bacon and veggies. When they were done, I’d get a porridge slurry. I didn’t get to eat lunch. I got supper only if I behaved. Of course, ‘behaving’ meant only speaking when given permission, making sure their meals were perfect every morning, and hiding in my room: the closet under the stairs. If I so much as batted an eyelash out of line, I’d get a beating.”

Her fiery gaze had returned, and she set it upon him now. “But you know what the worst part was? When I went a full day without a beating and a half-full belly, I really thought I’d been ‘good.’ I honestly believed that I was being rewarded.”

When he could do nothing but stare, she sighed and turned back to the soup. The spoon lifted in her aura and began stirring once more. Slowly. Without need. Without purpose. “The Mane Archon’s very first solo mission was to murder my family. And he did. I watched him bash my brother’s skull in. But he defied orders to spare me and, in time, took me on as his apprentice. My life has been infinitely better thanks to him.”

The spoon came up. She blew on its contents a few times, then took a small sip. She did not smile. Did not show any indication if the soup tasted good or bad. She merely stared, dull-eyed, at the spoons contents. “I don’t cook for myself very often. It reminds me of a time when I was cold. Hungry. Dirty. Content in my miserable ignorance. Back when I actually liked cooking, because it was the one and only time I was permitted to use my magic without risking a beating.” A beat. “Needs pepper.”

“That’s…” Caballeron didn’t have the words. He tried to envision the life she’d just described, but somehow knew his imagination paled in comparison to reality. To think that this commanding, lovely, powerful mare had been born in such conditions…

“The pepper, please?”

“Oh… right.” On stiff legs, he entered their tent and rummaged through the small bag of ingredients they’d collected from the town. It was slow going. He as too busy thinking about little fillies shivering under stairs, covered in welts and bruises. Was that the kind of background all Archons came from? He hoped not. He’d heard of child abuse before, but this threw off all his old impressions of the concept.

He had the pepper. He stared at it between his two hooves. They had pepper.

Pepper. Such a simple commodity. He never thought about it before. Always in his pack when he went traveling. Easily obtainable. Like so many other things. Pepper. Flowers. Milk. Soap.

Had Fleur ever used soap as a filly?

Realizing she was waiting, he shuffled his way back outside and offered her the pepper. She took it with a quiet thanks and sprinkled some into the pot. They sat in quiet contemplation together, listening to the crickets and the crackling fire.

Her eyes drifted to him. “You’re getting that look.”

“What look?”

“The pity look.”

He met her gaze, expecting indignation or frustration. All she offered was a dull, listless expression.

“Yeah,” he muttered. No point denying how he felt.

“It’s alright,” she said, ears folding back. She took another sip of the soup. “I was pretty pathetic back then. Please don’t mind my moodiness.”

She offered to let him taste from the spoon. He did. She wasn’t a bad cook. Not the best campside meal he’d ever tasted, but definitely above average. He nodded to her, and she returned the gesture. Two ceramic bowls levitated from a nearby bag, and soon the two were sipping quietly together.

His soup was halfway finished when he spoke up, not daring to meet her eyes. “If it’s all the same to you, I think I’ll cook from now on.”

A moment’s hesitation. “You don’t need to do that.” When he said nothing, she sighed and nodded. “If you want.”








October 17, C.Y. 1002 
Ponyville


“B-but we don’t have that kind of magic! We can’t make apples grow like that!”

Caballeron watched from behind some bushes as a unicorn couple groveled before Trixie, who glared down her nose at them. Vinyl was at his side, her face turned away and a scowl on her lips. They were on the outskirts of Ponyville, on the road that, if followed to its origin, would ultimately lead to Canterlot.

“Is this your excuse then? Your pitiful reason for trying to abandon Trixieville?” Trixie thrust her hoof at the smoldering ashes that had originally been the couple’s chariot. A few yards down the road lay two ponies – the drivers – unconscious and blackened. Not dead, or so Vinyl claimed, but not in good straights, either.

The stallion’s voice was muffled from his muzzle being planted in the mud. “P-please, forgive us, Great and Powerful Trixie! We only wanted—”

“I know what you wanted, you ungrateful swine!” The stallion rose, a red aura wrapped about his throat. He flailed, forehooves grasping the at the magic as he choked. “Trixie needs worshippers, you ignorant creature. They must serve and obey and be ready to spread her glory to the four corners of Equestria!”

Face as red as her magic, Trixie shook the stallion by the throat, violently. “How do you expect Trixie’s slaves to survive if agricultural peasants like you abandon them? How?”

The mare jumped to grab the stallion, attempting to stop the shaking. Tears streamed down her yellow cheeks. “P-please, stop! You’re killing him!” The shaking continued for a few more seconds, and then the magic faded. The stallion, face blue, collapsed atop his wife, hacking and sucking down sharp breaths.

“Consider this your only warning,” Trixie hissed. “If you dare try to leave Trixie’s domain again, she won’t stop with just a little shaking. Trixie will pop that head off completely and give your farm back to that lowly hick of an earth pony! If you try, Trixie will know.”

She disappeared in a red flash, leaving the mare to sob over her husband. He moved, but didn’t seem capable of getting up. Caballeron glanced at Vinyl, whose horn gave off those now-familiar little pulses.

“I think she broke something,” she said quietly, still not looking towards the scene. “Not life threatening, provided he stays down and waits for help.”

It was at that moment the mare began screaming for help, making Caballeron wince. “That won’t be us, will it?”

She shook her head. “Too risky for our cover.” She turned and marched off, going deeper into the woods.

Caballeron cast one last look at the couple before following. “She’s getting a lot worse,” he noted once they were far enough away from the scene. “At this rate, she’ll be killing ponies by next week.”

“It won’t come to that.” She didn’t sound as confident as she had a month ago. “Trixie is… She’s better than that.”

He let out a low growl, more to show his frustration than anything else. “How can you know that? If you ask me, we should take her out before she does something—” He was blinded by a flash of red. He soon realized it had been a magical beam. Following the path it had taken right before his muzzle, he spotted a black spot on a nearby tree, still smoking.

In an instant he was in Vinyl’s face, teeth bared and legs ready for action. “Did you just try to kill me?”

Vinyl was undaunted. For the first time since he’d met her, it seemed as if she were truly meeting his gaze, as impossible as that might seem. She didn’t raise her voice, but there was a coldness to it that might have chilled him were he not already boiling. “No. That was a warning shot. Nopony harms a hair on Trixie. If they do, they die.”

A snort in her face. “Is that Celestia’s mandate?”

“It’s my mandate,” she returned with a hiss, horn glowing brightly. “I won’t let anypony hurt her.”

He stomped and thrust a leg out, indicating their wooded surroundings. “And I am sick and tired of standing aside doing nothing while she gets worse and worse! We need to do something.”

“Don’t act as if you care about her victims,” Vinyl countered, still not raising her voice despite the bite of her tone. “All you care about is finding another tomb to rob or a whore to pound.”

Her statement was like a slap in the face, and Caballeron reeled. “That’s not… I…” It had been true. It was true.

Wasn’t it?

Floundering for some kind of defense, he barked out, “And why do you care so much?”

The shades came off. The scars returned in all their hideousness. And the menace in her muted eyes, even if not aimed directly at him, was finally enough to quiet the bubbling cauldron within his mind. “I got this way for Trixie. I’m willing to lose a lot more. What have you sacrificed for the pony you loved?”

The heat came back in a flash, and it was took all Caballeron had not to leap at Vinyl. “I lost the mare I love!”

“And that’s terrible. My sympathies.” Her glare didn’t fade an iota. “But what did you ever sacrifice for her?”

“My career! My life and future—”

“Bullshit.” Vinyl’s tail flicked. She stomped a step closer. “You lost your career because you were framed, not because of her. After that? You threw away your life for your own petty revenge. You didn’t give away a damn thing because she would have wanted you to.”

“I…” His argument died on his lips, because deep down he understood one thing: she was entirely right. He’d known it for so long, but to acknowledge it out loud like that stung more than he’d ever imagined. “I… I gave up my hunt for Yearling. I sacrificed that for—”

“That’s not a sacrifice!” Vinyl sat, crossed her arms and shook her head. “That’s called ‘growing up.’ You could have done it years ago if you’d just had the balls.”

“I… Y-you… I don’t…” Caballeron didn’t know how to feel anymore. Insulted? Guilty? Angry? He spent several seconds sputtering and wishing he could form some kind of argument. But the more he thought about it, the more he understood he hadn’t a leg to stand on. Gradually, the half-baked defenses and justifications faded from his mind, flooded out by a creeping, heavy weariness.

He stared at his hooves and sighed. “I’m a selfish bastard, aren’t I?”

Vinyl replaced her shades and turned away. “In your defense, you’re getting better.”

At first, he planned to let her walk away. But then he realized something and jumped to his hooves. “Wait. You never answered my question. Why are you so protective of her?” She paused, head hanging low, but said nothing. So he continued. “You’ve been watching Trixie almost as long as Fleur and I have. You know she’s only going to get worse. Shouldn’t we stop her before she takes the next step?”

“We can’t.” Vinyl’s response was quiet, almost a whisper. “Celestia won’t let us. Even if that wasn’t the case, we can’t get the amulet off her ourselves, not without killing her first. I’d rather join Trixie and fight the Archons than let that happen.”

He approached, moving slowly for fear she’d take his actions as a threat. “But why? What is Trixie to you?”

Her head turned towards him, but only halfway. He could see her wide eyes at this angle, the irises shifting wildly as if chasing something in her vision. It was some time before she responded.

“She’s my little sister.”

Of all the things she could have said, that was not one he expected. He pictured Trixie in his mind – an easy feat considered he’d been watching her so closely almost every day for well over a month. “I… don’t see a resemblance.”

“I adopted her.”

“Oh.” He blinked. “Wait, you can do that? Adopt a sister? I thought it only worked with parenting.”

Vinyl huffed a resigned sigh and dropped to her haunches. “Technically speaking, I am Trixie’s legal guardian-slash-parent. But personally? Yeah, we’re sisters. I took her and Ammy in the moment I turned eighteen.”

“Ammy?”

“Littler little sister.”

“Ah.” He moved to sit by her, and she didn’t object. “But Trixie has seen you a few times since this started. Why wouldn’t she recognize you?”

Vinyl pursed her lips. Her brow furrowed in thought, and he got the distinct impression she was wondering how much to tell him. He didn’t press her. Now that he had a kernel of the truth, he didn’t think it would be right.

The thought might have made him chuckle were the mood less somber; when did he ever become concerned about the feelings of others? He checked that little room in his mind, hoping for an answer but not expecting one. Sure enough, it remained vacated, collecting cobwebs as its former tenants failed to return. It almost made him lonely without that devil and Silty there to act as his guides.

Vinyl’s deep, preparatory breath pulled him from his thoughts. “Celestia happened. I’ll spare you the details. Suffice to say Trixie has no memory of our life together, and Celestia won’t let us remind her. She’s forever l-lost to me.” Her ears drooped at the crack in her voice. She seemed composed, but the subtle shake of her lower lip gave away her turmoil.

Caballeron felt an increasingly familiar sensation taking hold of him. Pity, first discovered with Fleur and now pestering him with Vinyl. He tried to imagine what it would be like to have Silty alive and practically in his grasp, but unable to reach her for reasons beyond his control. The idea was as sobering as it was terrifying.

He suspected Vinyl was on the knife’s edge of her self control. Would it be right to press any further? Maybe if he changed topics… “And what of the ‘littler little sister?’” He dearly hoped that was a happier direction for this conversation.

“Ammy?” To his pleasure, Vinyl smiled. It was a fragile thing, but still an improvement. “She’s in Canterlot right now, in a legal battle to get her father’s mine placed in her name. It’s her inheritance, y’see.”

He blinked. “Her father owned a mine? What kind?”

“Gemstones,” she replied as if it were a small matter.

Caballeron choked on the words. “G-gemstones? She’ll be set for life if she wins that!” His shock was promptly traded for an entirely different thought. “Why didn’t she inherit it naturally?”

“The ‘if’ is the big deal,” she replied with a scowl. “Ammy is – and I use this term only because it best highlights the situation – a half-breed.”

“A half-breed?” Caballeron chuckled at the very thought. “You mean one of those actually thinks they’ll hoof her the deed to—” Vinyl’s entire body tensed. “—I… mean… How interesting.”

Vinyl’s tone grew hard once more. “You fiancée was a unicorn, right?”

What did that have to do with anything? “Yes?”

“Assume you were still together, and going to have foals.”

He tilted his head, trying to understand her meaning. Even back when Silty was alive, he’d never thought about kids. And yet, now that Vinyl had suggested it... It would have happened. Surely. Caballeron had wanted to spend the rest of his life with Silty. He’d have been happy to… to… “Oh.”

Abruptly, he felt like the dumbest stallion alive. His foals would have been half-breeds. Just like that, he saw his entire relationship with Silty in a new light. How would his own children have been treated? Where would they have gone to protect them? Would he have given up his career, or brought them along on his digs? If he’d had foals with Silty, he didn’t doubt he would have done everything in his power to save them from the stigma of racist pigs like…

Like himself.

He wilted on the spot, digging his hooves into the soft grass and failing to look Vinyl in the face. “I really am a bastard.”

Vinyl said nothing. That only made it sting worse. Eager for something to take his mind off his dour self-loathing, he muttered, “So will she get it? Her mine?”

“Maybe.” The harshness in Vinyl’s tone faded, much to his relief. “If Celestia interferes? Not a chance. But even without her acting against Ammy, there’s no guarantee the court will give it to her thanks to her lineage.”

Raising his head was like trying to lift an anvil with his teeth, but Caballeron pulled it off. He studied Vinyl’s thoughtful, concerned expression. “Can’t you intervene on her behalf?”

She shook her head, paused, and then shrugged. “Technically? Sure. But my Little Sparkler’s been fighting for this her whole life. Getting that mine back has been her dream. She studied hard, graduated early, did all the legal studies, worked at mines all across Equestria and even some beyond. She has slaved to gain the knowledge and experience necessary to prove to anypony who dares challenge her that she could reopen that mine and make it into a successful business. If I pulled some strings as an Archon to guarantee she gets it back, that’s… that’s kinda like robbing her of the glory. She deserves to win this on her own merits, not because of some nebulous secret order she doesn’t even know I’m part of.”

Caballeron had to admit, he couldn’t argue against her logic. He stared into the forest, wondering at the lengths he might have gone for his own children. “And it all could come crashing down because of a single judge she has no control over.”

“Or Celestia.” Vinyl nodded, expression grim. “Ammy’s done all she can do. There’s nothing left but to wait.” She kicked at the grass with a pout. “And instead of being there for her, making sure she’s got the emotional backup she needs, I’m stuck here, watching over another sister who I can’t actively help. It’s the definition of suck.”

He glanced at her. “I thought you said you’re here of your own volition.”

The casual shift of her head might have been mistaken for a glance if he hadn’t known better. “I am. Ammy can take care of herself if she needs to. She’s strong like that.” The pride in her tone was impossible to miss, just as much as the sadness of her next words. “But Trixie? She doesn’t know anything, on a level far deeper than you can guess. Part of why I joined the Archons was so that I could ensure she was being watched over and cared for from behind the scenes, in a way that wouldn’t defy Celestia’s orders.”

Her face turned away, and she seemed to gaze into the twilit foliage. “I love her, Caballeron, but the most I can do is watch and, when the shit hits the fan, try to alleviate the damage. And this?” She waved at their surroundings. “This is the biggest mess she’s been in since she got cursed. I have to be here. Somepony has to look out for her.”

She stood and walked off, headed in the general direction of Ponyville. “We’ve lingered too long. I gotta keep an eye on her.”

Caballeron made no attempt to follow, watching as she disappeared among the bushes. His mind was sorting through this new information, trying to piece together things that contradicted his old perspectives. A Trixie who was more pitiable than villainous; an Archon whose interest was more benign than he’d ever imagined; a Celestia pulling strings to make horrible things happen for no reason other than she could. But the strangest thing?

“I thought the Archons were supposed to be evil.”







“Oh, the Archons are evil,” Fleur said nonchalantly over her bowl of pasta. “At least, as far as the public is concerned.”

“But why are they evil?” Caballeron spooned some of the meal from the pan into his own bowl. “That’s what I don’t get. What purpose does it serve to pretend to be something you aren’t?”

“Something you are not.”

“Whatever.” He sat down and scowled through the steam. “Vinyl told me about her relationship with Trixie. Or non-relationship, as the case may be. She’s…” His frustration faded for a weariness he’d been feeling ever since his talk with the blind mare. “She’s got good intentions. Admirable purpose. What is a pony like that doing in the ‘most evil’ order in the world?”

“Didn’t she tell you?” Fleur asked before taking her first bite.

“Yes, but… It just doesn’t make sense.” He sniffed at his meal, finding he wasn’t all that hungry. Still, he forced himself to eat; no point in weakening himself.

Fleur studied him as she chewed, an attentive expression on her face. Upon swallowing, she spoke. “How do you look at Celestia?”

“Well…” He paused upon realizing he was speaking with his mouth full. At one time he might not have cared, but it seemed an insult to do so in front of Fleur, so he waited until he'd swallowed. “I never thought she was the ‘one true good’ so many other ponies did, but I never thought she was bad, either.”

“Then you are a rare breed.” Fleur had another bite, and Caballeron waited patiently for her to finish. “Most ponies? Celestia is the holiest of holies. The goddess that makes this world bright, literally and figuratively. She is harmony incarnate, and she has cultivated that image over a thousand years through us. We take on the appearance of evil so that Celestia can maintain the appearance of good, even if neither role holds even a grain of truth.”

He said nothing to this, instead wondering about her explanation. They ate quietly, the crackling fire and crickets once more providing their distraction.

“This is very good, Cruelles.”

“Hmm? Oh. Thanks.”

The quiet resumed. Caballeron squirmed. There was a question on the tip of his tongue, but did he dare ask? Fleur appeared to be paying him no mind, but he knew she was more observant than she sometimes seemed. She surely knew he wanted to speak, but rarely encouraged him. Still, they had developed… a rapport? Something. She didn’t seem to mind talking nowadays. Perhaps if he entered into this slowly…

He glanced at her. She was busy spooning herself seconds. Licking his lips, he asked, “Celestia really screwed up Vinyl’s life, didn’t she?”

Fleur met his gaze, then went back to her meal. He knew enough by now to recognize the lack of denial for what it was.

A breath. Two. “Did she… do anything to you?”

Those violet eyes met him without accusation or anger. There was, however, hesitation. Uncertainty.

Sadness.

“Forget it,” he whispered, huddling over his half-full bowl. “I don’t need to know.”

Back to listening to crickets and crackling flames. Back to his ignorance. Back to wondering how bad things really were.

Fleur’s voice startled him. “Ever heard of the Rape of Sīṃgakh?”

He almost got whiplash from jerking his head up to stare at her. Her fleeting glance only made the energy flow out of him even faster. “I knew it! That really was an Archon job!”

Her pained expression promptly faded to confusion. “What do you mean, you knew? How could you know?”

He spread his hooves wide. “The most corrupt city in the world going crazy and slaughtering itself? A raging inferno taking most of it to Tartarus? Princess Celestia immediately sending in peacekeeping forces to calm the situation? Everything about Sīṃgakh had ‘Archon job’ written all over it. I still can’t believe so many ponies across Equestria bought the cover story.”

His attention shifted at the same time she did, and the realization slammed his heart into his throat. “You were there.” Her head bowed. “You oversaw the destruction?” It bowed lower.

He blinked, enthusiasm falling away to cold understanding. “You were… on the ground? You took part in the Rape of Sīṃgakh?”

The quiet returned in all its uncomfortable non-glory. Fleur wouldn’t look at him. She closed her eyes and heaved a long, slow breath. “I wasn’t supposed to be there. Fine Crime tried to protect me from it, but I was young and stupid and determined to prove myself as an Archon. So I sneaked into the city. I thought it would just be some sort of high profile assassination, or maybe a major disruption of the politics of the area.”

She shivered, shuffling a little closer to the fire. When she opened her eyes, there was a weariness in them. And guilt. “I was wrong. I was so wrong. Celestia cast a spell turning every creature in the city into raving, violent animals. It took only seconds for the place to turn into a warzone.”

The words entered Caballeron’s ears, but they provided no logic. He shook his head, pursed his lips. After a moment’s consideration, he finally spoke up. “Why would she do something like that? What purpose would it serve?”

“Purpose?” Fleur actually laughed, but it was a cold, bitter thing. “You still haven’t figured it out, have you? Celestia is a monster, Cruelles. She’s every bad concept imaginable all rolled into a single equine package.” She turned to him with a smile as hard as her laugh had been. “Celestia had Sīṃgakh destroyed for fun.”

Caballeron almost accused her of joking, but her tired expression and slumped posture held his tongue. “For… fun?”

“Fun.” She nodded and turned back to the flames. “She does it every quarter century or so. Before Sīṃgakh, it was the Crystal Rebellion. Did you know Governess Cadance was unwittingly planted by the Archons into her position? Of course not. She was the perfect kind of pony, given just the right tools and resources and position, possessing exactly the kind of ambitious, moral mind necessary.”

It seemed too farfetched, but Caballeron asked the question anyway. “Are you suggesting that the entire rebellion was engineered to happen by the Archons from the beginning?”

Fleur nodded, the flames reflecting in her eyes. “It was before my time. A thirty-year project, or so I’ve been told. Over a hundred thousand lives lost to both sides, just for Celestia’s amusement. And the instant the rebellion was over? She started plans for Sīṃgakh.”

Really, what she was saying was outrageous.

And yet… what was too outrageous for an immortal alicorn at the height of political, military, and magical power? With centuries to scheme and concoct. He might have made an argument for the immorality of all Fleur suggested, but what was morality to a pony above ponies? When something lived forever, watching generations pass in the blink of an eye, surely they looked upon life and death through a very different lens.

Immortal. Immoral. Did those two concepts go hoof-in-hoof? Caballeron could just imagine it: a Celestia sitting atop her ivory tower, playing games with the lives of millions simply for the sake of alleviating boredom. The concept sent a shiver down his spine.

And what about this mission? Perhaps it was all nothing more than a bit of minor pleasure. A little distraction to bide her time before the next Sīṃgakh or Crystal Rebellion. A game, with Trixie and Vinyl in the center of it, but only one aware. What must it be like to know the truth and be unable to do anything about it? He imagined only a cruel mind could conjure such a situation.

Caballeron never considered himself a fanciful or imaginative individual. That part of him wanted to deny Fleur’s statements, wave them away as an Archon keeping the veil of secrecy intact. Yet after spending so much time with her, and seeing the vehemence in Vinyl’s conviction…

“Why do you work for such a creature?”

Fleur had returned to her meal. At his utterance, her eyes became hard like diamonds. “I work for Fine Crime, not Celestia. My loyalties are to him, and only him. And I promise you that every Archon in service today will tell you the same thing.” A moment’s silence as her gaze softened, brow furrowing in thought. “Well, almost. I can think of one exception, but his loyalties certainly don’t go to Celestia.”

“Okay, fine. Then why does Fine Crime serve Celestia?”

She cocked her head, appearing as if she’d just been asked whether grass was green. “Because he has no choice.” She must have seen his dissatisfaction, for she sighed and set her now-empty bowl aside. “It’s probably not something I should be telling you, at least not at this time. And frankly, I don’t want to talk about this anymore. I’m going to bed. I suggest you do the same.”

Yet Caballeron made no move to go to his tent. Fleur’s words bothered him, and he stared at the fire in silent contemplation for some time. She wasn’t going to talk about Fine Crime, but she’d already revealed so much. Vinyl had, as well. He was picking up the pieces gradually, learning more about the Archons than he had in all his time working with them, and that was a long time. Why were they so willing to talk about so much now, and why stop talking after having told him what she had?

And what did she mean, ‘not at this time?’

Caballeron got so very little sleep that night.








November 25, C.Y. 1002 
Ponyville


They were sitting at the table of a closed café. A great many shops had shut down since Trixie’s arrival, primarily because deliveries had stopped coming in. Trixie made a point of interrogating every pony who came within her unseen detection field, and those interrogations were getting more and more dangerous for the interrogatees. Nopony had died, but Trixie’s gradually escalating violence had left many a pony in the local hospital – now filled almost to capacity – and shipping companies were no longer willing to risk it.

Ponyville’s economy was in a state of freefall. Citizens were unable to escape. Visitors found themselves trapped. Celestia had sent an envoy to discuss terms – Fleur referred to him as a sacrifice, Vinyl as a chew toy – and the poor stallion was now sitting next to the mayor in a large birdcage. The local farms were more than capable of producing enough food for the citizenry, but beyond that? Basic amenities were getting dangerously low.

And yet Trixie remained, currently basking in the sun with two large stallions fanning her. For all the trouble she’d caused, she looked as though she hadn’t a care in the world. An illusion, of course; the moment anypony did the slightest thing out of place in her presence, the Alicorn Amulet would come to life and the magic would fly. Probably with some choice insults and certainly with some self-gratifications thrown in the mix.

Caballeron hardly cared right now. His mind was too preoccupied with a conclusion he’d drawn the night before. He didn’t know whether or not that conclusion was frightening or promising. He’d spent all morning debating with himself on the matter. Now he found himself pretending to loiter at the café with Fleur and Vinyl, the mares keeping a close eye on their target and he keeping a close eye on them.

At last, he came to the conclusion that he’d never know the truth without asking. So, without giving them any prior warning, he blurted out, “Am I being recruited?”

Vinyl’s and Fleur’s heads whipped towards Caballeron in perfect synchronization. Vinyl’s expression wasn’t clear from beneath her shades, but Fleur’s jaw had dropped in clear shock, and it was she who asked “Whatever would make you say that?”

He gave them both a firm look. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. Not much else to do.”

They continued to stare at him – or almost at him, in Vinyl’s case – for a while, then looked to one another. They smiled in unison, but it wasn’t a friendly smile. More… predatory. It was the kind of smile that made Caballeron realize he may have made a grave mistake.

“I don’t know what makes you think we’d ever want to recruit you,” Vinyl said casually, seeming to turn her attention back to Trixie.

“But even if we were,” Fleur said, focusing her smirk on Caballeron. “Do you really think we’d spoil the game by telling you?”

He hesitated, but Caballeron realized there was no point backing down now that he’d taken the plunge. “You’ve been telling me a lot.” She raised an eyebrow and gestured for him to go on, so he did. “I know your backstories now. Where you come from and what you do, all that stuff.”

“Assuming we were telling you the truth,” Vinyl threw in seemingly offhand.

“I think you have been.” He looked between them, then to Trixie. “Before she got involved, I was supposed to deliver that thing to your boss personally. I used to question why he’d demand that when you, Fleur, are more than capable of doing it. Doesn’t ‘application process’ fit the bill?”

Fleur leaned against the table, chin cupped in her fetlock as she studied him. “Nice theory, if a little self-confident.”

He shrugged. “I never said I’d get in.”

Vinyl chuckled. “The fact you think you might be a candidate at all speaks volumes about your ego, dude.”

He huffed, hunching over the table and crossing his arms. “Well, didn’t the two of you want to join the Archons?”

“Nope.”

He blinked. “Wait, you didn’t?”

“Nope,” Vinyl repeated. “I hated them. Feared them. Heck, before I joined I was more likely to try kicking Fine’s teeth in than join up.”

Fleur nodded solemnly. “I was only a child. I didn’t even think the Archons were real, and next thing I know I’m on the team. It was either that or an early grave.”

“Oh.” He let that sink in before scowling. “This still doesn’t prove I have an ego.” Their shared smirks brought a fire to his cheeks, but he elected not to take their bait. “Look, I just put the pieces together. Why else would the Mane Archon want to see me?”

“Oh, there could be many reasons. Maybe he wants to get rid of you quietly, or perhaps—” Vinyl sat up straight, her ears perking and her horn giving off rapid pulses. “Shit.”

Fleur snapped into business mode instantly, her expression going neutral as she sat up straight. “What is it? What do you see?”

Vinyl raised her hoof. “Hold on. Making sure. Don’t wanna jump to conclusions.”

Watching in curious fascination, Caballeron tried to trace her vision. He knew by now that she used the pulses of her horn as some sort of magical echolocation, so he wasn’t surprised to see that she was looking beyond the nearby buildings. He never was able to peg down exactly how far her magic could detect things. Was it something close? Far? Either way, he regretted having left Boomer back at the camp.

“Shit.” Vinyl’s bared her teeth in a hiss. “Shit. Celestia’s played her hand, and it’s a bucking good one.” Her head slowly turned to follow whatever her pulses were detecting.

“Come on, Vinyl,” Fleur snapped. “Stop talking to yourself and tell us what you see.”

Vinyl glanced at her, and there was a visible tension in her manner. “Celestia’s student. She’s sicced her favorite pet on Trixie.”

Fleur’s lips flicked into a frown for all of an instant. “Twilight Sparkle. I wonder if Fine knew about this.”

As if her words were a summons, smoke appeared just before her face. Caballeron had seen that happen a few times, and just as he expected, a scroll dropped from the rapidly dissipating cloud. Fleur caught it in her magic without so much as a flinch and ripped off the ribbon. Vinyl paid this no mind, her head still slowly turning to follow the newcomer.

Caballeron watched Fleur as she read through the scroll’s contents. He’d heard of Twilight Sparkle, but only in passing. He wondered what was so great about her, or why her arrival bothered his companions so much.

“Typical Celestia,” Fleur muttered, disintegrating the scroll with a flash of her horn. “She didn’t tell Fine about this until a few minutes ago.”

“What are our orders?” Vinyl asked with no less professionalism.

“Twilight’s here to ‘deal with’ Trixie.” When Vinyl’s head snapped towards her, she added, “Nonlethally. We let her do the job and grab the amulet at the first opportunity.”

“Got it.” Vinyl was off, trotting for an alley across the street. Fleur stood up and disappeared seemingly into thin air.

Caballeron just sat there, staring at where she’d been. “Um… and I’m supposed to do what, exactly?” He raised an ear, anticipating some answer from the empty air, but none came. “Well then, in that case…” He turned his attention back to Trixie, who hadn’t moved from her spot in the park. He would act if necessary, but right now he was better suited on the sidelines.

About a minute later, a group of ponies appeared from behind some nearby bushes. They were all gathered around a lone lavender unicorn, whom Caballeron assumed was the famous Twilight Sparkle. She trotted along, talking to her admirers with a chipper smile and a bounce in her step. She looked for all the world as though she were merely on an afternoon stroll. Pretty mare. Surprisingly young. The petite creature didn’t appear dangerous, but Caballeron had enough experience with unicorns by now to know better than to think that way.

As the chatter grew louder, Trixie squirmed where she lay, face twisting into a frustrated scowl. She abruptly sat up, blasting the two muscular stallions away with a gust of wind. “Who dares interrupt Trixie’s cat nap?”

Twilight, now only a few yards away, stopped to stare at Trixie as if only just noticing her. The ponies around her shied away from the tyrannical pony, giving the two mares plenty of space. “Oh, Trixie! What are you doing in Ponyville?” It seemed for all the world like she was merely greeting a friend.

Trixie spun around to face her visitor, jaw dropping and eyes nearly bugging out of their sockets. “T-Twilight Sparkle?” The tiny mote of fear in her voice had Caballeron raising an eyebrow, but she recovered quickly. Sitting up tall and raising her muzzle high, Trixie fired off a lopsided smirk. “At last! You’ve finally come to accept the Great and Powerful Trixie’s challenge. Trixie will be honest, Sparkle; she didn’t believe you had the guts.”

Twilight studied her frog with a bored expression. “Challenge? What are you talking about?”

Trixie’s poise faltered, but only for a moment. “Do not feign ignorance! You’ve come here to face the Great and Powerful Trixie in a magic duel. But you’ll find Trixie is more than ready for you this time, you charlatan!”

Lowering her hoof, Twilight cocked her head. “Why would I challenge you to a magic duel? Seems rather pointless.”

Sputtering, Trixie stomped a few times and growled. “Pointless? This is not a game! Ponyvile is mine, and you’ve come to try to reclaim it!” Her ears folded back as she added, “Right?”

“Yours.” Laughter, cruel and mocking. “I’ve got news for you, Trixie. Celestia sent me, but not to deal with you. I can say with confidence she doesn’t even know your name.”

A fire lit in Trixie’s cheeks, almost enough to rival the brightness of the Alicorn Amulet. “L-lies! The Great and Powerful Trixie is known throughout Equestria. Why else would Celestia send you here but to defeat Trixie in solo combat?” She pawed at the earth, horn shining brightly. Onlookers fled instantly at the sight, and soon the park was empty save for the two mares and a quietly observing Caballeron. “But Trixie will best you this time, Sparkle. And then Celestia will have no choice but to recognize Trixie as the greatest unicorn!”

Twilight stared at Trixie as one might a foal who had just claimed she would become the next Princess of the Sun. Shaking her head, she replied, “Celestia named Ponyville as my demesne not twenty-four hours ago. I just came here to pick a spot for my tower.”

After pondering this information, Trixie gained a predatory grin. “Your demesne, you say? In that case, Trixie guesses it is Trixie’s demesne. Trixie conquered it before you ever got here. You want it back?” She stomped before setting herself in a defensive pose, legs spread and horn aimed. “You’ll have to take it from Trixie!”

“A Trixie with the Alicorn Amulet, no less.”

“Hah! You recognized it?” She sat back and patted the amulet around her neck with a smug smile. “With this, Trixie is undefeatable.”

“Right.” Twilight rolled her eyes before flashing her horn. An item flew up from her saddlebag: an amulet shaped like her cutie mark, tied with a simple cord. Casually, she slipped the necklace on. “There. That should put things back in order.”

“What have you got there, Sparkle? A good luck charm?”

“Actually, Celestia made this for me.” Twilight copied Trixie’s earlier motion, patting her amulet. Her smugness rivaled Trixie’s. “Should be enough to let me beat your trinket.”

“Trinket?”

The battle began with fire lightning. Not fire and lightning, but literally fire jolting through the air with the shape and speed of lightning. It took only seconds for Caballeron to realize his decision to stick around may have been faulty. He half-leapt, half-collapsed out of his chair as Trixie’s third shot obliterated the table he’d been sitting at. Despite landing painfully on his back, he didn’t take his eyes off the two mages as they dueled.

Except… Twilight wasn’t fighting. Not really. All she appeared to be doing was teleporting from place to place, dodging each of Trixie’s rapidfire assaults with an ease that left Caballeron uneasy. How powerful was she if she could cast a spell known for its challenging difficulty with such ease? Taking a moment to survey the smoldering remains of the table was enough to remind him that he really didn’t want to get caught between these two.

But he couldn’t just leave! Scrambling to his hooves, he ran for the nearest cover; a collection of shrubs by a two-story home. Sizzling bolts, high-pitched beams and frustrated cries filled the air, the latter mostly consisting of less flattering variants of “Hold still, you insufferable smartflank!”

Caballeron skidded around to the relative safety of the bushes – which didn’t feel safe at all after he saw an entire wagon fly over his head! Still, this was no more dangerous than his usual outing with Yearling. He’d never fled from one of those, had he?

But then, he’d always had a reason to go after Yearling. What reason did he have to be here? Fleur and Vinyl could take care of themselves. And, he reminded himself as a beam of blue energy carved a pony-sized hole into the nearby house, an obligation. It was their jobs to get the amulet. For all intents and purposes, he was naught but a hanger-on, held in place only by the vague promise of retribution should he attend to his own desires.

Nebulous, uncertain desires. What did he want to do? He’d only followed Fleur because she’d been giving him a direction.

But… was that true anymore?

As the magic and frustrated screams became a mere background noise, his thoughts focused on the last few months. He hadn’t spent so much time with any one pony since… Silty. Fleur was no Silty, but she was an interesting individual. Intelligent. Entertaining when she had the mind to be, confident in most instances, fragile in a very few. He’d seen her at her best and worst. And now?

He groaned and rubbed his forehead with both hooves. “Stupid files and their stupid accuracies.”

Shoving his way through the branches and brambles, Caballeron took stock of the situation. Twilight was still doing her rapidfire teleportation thing, dodging everything that a tiring Trixie had to throw at her. From the look of things, Celestia’s student had yet to even throw up a shield, much less a counterattack. What was her angle?

At last, the attacks ceased. Trixie stood with legs spread, breath coming in heavy gasps and horn actually glowing red from heat. She glared at Twilight, who wasn’t even breathing hard. “How? How can you cast so many teleportation spells so quickly?”

With a smirk, Twilight stuck out her chest, her necklace bouncing from the movement. “With this, of course. You’ll never beat me so long as I have it.”

Trixie scowled. “Is that so?” In a flash, her expression shifted to a wicked grin. Before Twilight could react, the necklace was snatched away, cord snapping from a violent pull.

“Hey!”

Caballeron’s jaw dropped as Trixie swiftly removed the Alicorn Amulet, replacing it with Twilight’s necklace. “A-ha! Now Trixie will become the ultimate—” A purple beam half as big as she was smashed into her chest, sending her flailing across the grass.

The Alicorn Amulet dropped to the earth, innocuous.

“Oh, that’s hilarious,” Twilight said in a dry tone. She approached Trixie, eyes narrowed as her opponent stood on wobbling legs. “You actually thought the necklace made me stronger, didn’t you?”

“Be quiet!” Trixie snarled and fired a beam.

Twilight struck it aside with her bare hoof. It didn’t even leave a burn mark.

Trixie paled. “W-what? How? Trixie saw it, you were overpowered! Nopony can teleport that fast naturally!”

“True.” Twilight paused, standing over the Alicorn Amulet. Caballeron doubted the positioning was a coincidence. “Nopony could. That necklace doesn’t enhance general magical ability. All it does is make teleportation spells require a lot less magic.” Her smirk broadened. “You don’t know how to teleport, do you?”

Panic bloomed in Trixie’s gaze. She began to tremble, violet eyes shifting from the necklace she now wore to the amulet just between Twilight’s forelegs. “T-Trixie can still beat you. She can!” Her horn started to glow, catching the Alicorn Amulet in a blue aura. It barely got an inch off the ground before Twilight summoned a small purple ball of energy that slammed at a downward angle into Trixie’s cheek. The former tyrant dropped like a sac of bricks.

Twilight stood in silence, apparently waiting for Trixie to get back up. When she didn’t, she traded her smirk for a frown and sagged. “That wasn’t as satisfying as Celestia said it would be.” Her eyes lingered on her groaning foe. “Why’d you have to come back, Trixie? I asked you to keep away, didn’t I?”

She bowed her head, only to find the amulet still lying at her hooves. “Well, at least this is all behind us.”

It was then that Fleur appeared, shimmering into existence not a yard from where Caballeron was hidden. Her arrival sent his pulse racing, but he recovered quickly. Was this his cue? Probably. He pushed himself the rest of the way out of the bushes to stand at her side. A cursory glance showed no sign of Vinyl.

His movement caught Twilight’s attention. At the sight of the two ponies, her ears flattened against her skull and her tail tucked. She stared at Fleur as if she were a ghost come to claim her soul. She didn’t seem to notice Trixie coming to. Slowly, she turned her head to stare at something in the distance. Caballeron followed her gaze, only to end up looking at Canterlot Castle high atop the Lonely Mountain.

As she stared at the castle, Twilight’s entire demeanor shifted. Her eyes shrank to pinpricks and her knees buckled. She seemed to shrink in on herself, fear fading to a despondent, lost manner. Just as quickly, she picked herself up tall and hardened her expression. All of this passed in what may have been just five seconds, and then she cast a grim look towards Fleur and him. An uncertain glance from Caballeron revealed Fleur meeting Twilight’s gaze with her own stony expression.

Finally, Twilight heaved a sigh and turned for Trixie. “I have to do this ‘right’, don’t I?”

Trixie was trying to slink away, stumbling and dizzy, when the violet aura caught her tail. She let out a shout as she was dragged back, the force of the sudden pull dropping her back to her barrel. Wriggling, she turned onto her back and yelped as she found herself sliding back to Twilight. “W-what are you doing?”

The smirk was back on Twilight’s lips, but now Caballeron recognized it for the hollow thing it was. “You didn’t think I was done with you, did you? You’ve been a bad mare, Trixie.”

Trixie’s eyes went wide, the color once again draining from her. “No. Let me go! Please, i-it was the amulet! I didn’t mean for things to get out-of-hoof like—” Twilight walked past, dragging Trixie behind with her magic. “—help!”

“I think your cape would go excellently up on the school’s flagpole, don’t you?”

Trixie’s pleas faded as the two disappeared down the street, their passing marked by the small grooves dug into the soil by her grasping hooves. Caballeron almost felt bad for the mare. Almost. Maybe if she hadn’t been the reason he’d been stuck in this place for months, he’d have felt something more legitimate.

He did feel sorry for one pony, though. “Where’s Vinyl?”

Fleur walked towards the Alicorn Amulet, lying forgotten in the grass. “She has her own interests. We have what we came for.” She lifted the amulet in her magic, staring at the glittering red jewel at its center.

Caballeron approached, his eye drifting to where Twilight and Trixie had disappeared. Trixie’s cries were still audible in the distance. “Twilight Sparkle. She recognized you as an Archon, didn’t she?”

Fleur gave a halfhearted nod, her attention still on the amulet. “Indeed. She feared if she didn’t handle Trixie in a way Celestia would like, her situation would worsen.”

Worsen? So Celestia’s student was already on thin ice? A topic for later, but certainly an interesting one. He turned fully to Fleur. “What’s next?”

She studied him with one eye, expression unreadable. After some thought, she levitated the amulet to him. Hesitantly, he accepted it. “Next? You have a date with the boss.”

With a sigh, he turned to put the amulet into his saddlebags. “I guess it’s about time. Still don’t know what the Mane Archon wants with me.” When he looked to her again, Fleur failed to meet his gaze. “What?”

Her eyes shifted towards him, but only briefly. “That’s not the boss I was referring to.”

When her meaning registered, Caballeron felt his inside turn to ice.
> Book V – Cruelles Caballeron: Consequences
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------




I'm the bad guy. I've come to accept that. Without Silty, there was nopony to rein in my darker impulses, and I didn't want them to.

But that day that fucking

Fleur, I know you'll read this when it's over. I thought of so many

this is harderthan I thought. YouI

We so much harder than I thought.

Do you know what it's like to hate yourself? to wish that maybe tomorrow some prick will get a lucky shot? I thinkknow you of all ponies can relate to

no

Gulfstream could.

Tomorow, everything chnges, for better or for worse. And just in cse I don't make it out alive, I wat you to know. 

Sorry. Stupid quill. Stupid mouth. Stupid hooves.

Stupid me.

Fleur. Thank you. For being there. For keeping me standing. For doing what Silty couldn't anymore. Without you I would have

Don't forgive me. don't ever. I know you will, because you're better than me, but you shouldn't and dont and

I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I hope things work out. I hope I don't live to find out.

I'm sorry. I'm srry. Im sory. m sory Im sorry. Don't evver blame yourslf for what I did I'm so fucking sorry I stil see her wy wont sh e scream Im sorrplease luna take the nightmares away sorry bitch so sorry so small sco loo





It's okay. I'm okay.

I'm just

so sorry

—Cruelles Caballeron, Book of Shadows XLVIII,

June 12 12, 1007

Final excerpt from personal diaries, translated from Palabras del Sur, June 16, 1007








November 27, C.Y. 1002 
Canterlot Castle
 

Caballeron thought it a peculiar thing. He’d visited cities all over the world, and yet somehow he’d failed to visit the capital of his homeland. Canterlot had to be the most unusual city in the world. It was full of the arrogant and unpleasant jerks of cultural metropolises like Manehattan, yet there was little sign of a downtrodden and angry lower class. Its buildings rose tall beneath the shadow of the Lonely Mountain like Stalliongrad, proud in their phallic ego, and yet somehow managed to make it look good. The city was clean and pristine like Riverwood, but still achieved an appearance of modernness.

It was rare that he could say it, but Canterlot truly was a city like no other.

Yet he wasn’t here to sightsee, and he’d barely had time to register his thoughts before Fleur had escorted him into Canterlot Castle. Not a single guard so much as batted an eye when she hurried into a section clearly closed to the public. He followed, wary of those spears, but it seemed they’d been expecting him.

Canterlot city was unique, but Canterlot Castle was like any other he’d visited. He paid little mind to the tapestries and vaulted ceilings, instead focusing on the mare in front of him. “Don’t you want to take a moment to settle down, relax your hooves? You’re finally home.”

Fleur’s steps were solid and loud in the near-empty hallway, echoing her businesslike attitude. “The Mane Archon’s instructions were clear: I’m to take you to him immediately.”

So much for delaying the inevitable. His saddlebags felt hot and heavy as he considered the thing hidden within. Months of waiting, all for this. Why was the Mane Archon so eager to meet him, of all ponies? A slew of questions, all of which had been asked a hundred times before, swam through his head. Should he be worried? Eager? Afraid?

“Don’t you have anything to give me?” he asked, hurrying to keep up with Fleur’s longer stride. “A clue as to how to behave, an idea of what to expect?”

“No.”

Her lack of details was infuriating! He huffed and tried to think positive thoughts. If only Silty were still in his head. Hay, he’d take that old devil if it meant a distraction from the coming meeting. And after that… Celestia?

No greater mystery existed than why Celestia also wanted to see him. Caballeron had dealt with royalty before, but this was different. Kings and Queens didn’t move celestial objects on a daily basis. Surely there had to be some sort of protocol to this. Granted, he’d never been one for protocol, but it wouldn’t hurt to know how to behave before a being that could turn him into a cinder with a raised eyebrow.

They soon moved into an ominous portion of the castle, although it seemed to have been made that way intentionally. The marble appeared tinted to a darker hue and black curtains hung over the windows. Caballeron had heard of this place. The Nocturnal Wing, in which the Nightmare resided. A creeping chill ran along his spine and down his legs. Where they going to meet her? He dearly hoped not. He’d faced down undead, cursed souls, wild animals and strange beasts, but to face the Mother of All Night herself?

“Why are we here?”

“You know why.”

He focused on Fleur once more, ignoring the darkness all around. “You mean your offices are in the Nocturnal Wing?”

“Not originally.” She glanced back, perhaps checking to ensure he was keeping up. “The Mane Archon moved us here about a year after Luna returned.”

Luna? Ah, the alter ego of the Nightmare. The kind face to mask the monster. “And… how likely are we to meet it?”

She turned on a dime, blocking his path with her body, and he had to rear back to keep from running into her. Stepping away, he opened his mouth to snap at her.

Her cold glare stopped him short. “Do not disrespect Luna. Not in front of Fine Crime, or Octavia. Especially not in front of Gulfstream. Consider it vital to your health.”

Her hard eyes were more than enough warning. Ears folded and shoulders stiff, he nodded. “Got it. Not a word.”

“Good.” She stared at him for a few seconds longer, then continued to lead. They arrived at a blue-coated door not long after, identical to all the others in the hallway. “Are you ready?”

Refusing to appear as worried as he felt, Caballeron stood tall and nodded. “As I’ll ever be.”

A brief glance, and she was at the door. It opened before she could knock, and she entered without hesitation. Caballeron took a moment to settle his nerves, taking a few slow breaths and licking his lips before following.

He entered what appeared to be a living room. Sparsely decorated, yet tastefully so. His hooves sank into lush crimson carpet and the furniture was made of dark wood with red velvet cushions. A fireplace sat unlit in the corner and a small chandelier hung overhead, only half-lit to keep the room in a dim lighting. It seemed the Mane Archon liked his darkness.

Spotting Fleur’s tail disappearing through a nearby doorway, he hurried onwards. He could feel the alicorn amulet bouncing against his side within its bag. To be rid of the thing would be a welcome relief.

The Mane Archon’s office was more brightly illuminated than the last room, but only a little. Its walls were of wood paneling, one completely taken up by a massive bookshelf and another with a wide rack of potions labeled in what appeared to be code. The desk, much smaller than he’d anticipated, was made of a familiar dark stone. An impressive sight; Caballeron had seen granite-topped desks, but to see an entire desk made from the stuff?

And behind that desk, scribbling in a scroll with quill and ink, was the stallion himself. Fine was tall, but not near as tall as Fleur. Skinny too, but unhealthily so. Trying to gauge his musculature was tricky, because the stallion had a hodgepodge coat of mixed browns that defied study. His mane was black, but the shine of it suggested a recent dye job. Were this any other pony on the street, Caballeron might have thought it the decision of some immature fool thinking black was cool.

Fine Crime wore a simple black vest lined in red over a white, buttoned shirt with the sleeves rolled back. His horn glowed a soft red as he continued his work without looking up. Fleur sat before him, silently waiting to be acknowledged. With a lack of guidance, Caballeron elected to join her.

All was quiet save for the scratching of the quill. Fine Crime’s brow was knit and his jaw set, frustration radiating from his every motion. Only when his quill ran out of ink did he speak. “You’re a few months late.”

Caballeron bristled at that cold tone, but Fleur only nodded. “We ran into some complications.”

“Do you know why?” Still, the Mane Archon didn’t look up. He set his quill in the inkpot and pushed the scroll aside. His motions were slow. Deliberate.

Fleur closed her eyes and sighed. “Trixie.”

“No.”

Her calm demeanor cracked. Ears perking, she straightened up a little and gave him a quizzical look. “No?”

“No.” At last Fine looked up, but not at her. A steely, red gaze met Caballeron’s, and he felt as though something had grabbed hold of his heart. He’d been on the receiving end of many a dark look, but nothing quite like this. Caballeron couldn’t even grasp why Fine’s expression made his knees tremble. He just knew that he’d rather be anywhere than at the center of the Mane Archon’s attention right now.

Fleur glanced at Caballeron, lips pursed, but was clearly at a loss. “Then… why?”

At last, Fine released him from that powerful glare. “You bucked up,” he said, banging his hoof on the desk as he looked to Fleur. “You bucked up royally. I’m sure you guessed that being assigned this mission was a test.”

Fleur nodded hesitantly. “Yes, but I couldn’t figure out how.”

With a heavy sigh, Fine stood and began to pace behind the desk. “I should have known. Celestia played it too deeply, didn’t make things clear enough. Of course you wouldn’t notice the end goal. And now the test only gets worse.”

A grimace marred Fleur’s pretty face. “I knew Celestia was involved. I know she wants it to be painful. But I couldn’t tell what her real goal was.”

At last, Caballeron felt driven to speak. “The goal? The goal was to get the Alicorn Amulet. Which we have, and I would very much appreciate it if you’d take the foul thing and send me on my way.”

Fine turned to him. “This isn’t about the amulet, Caballeron.” He raised his head a little, appearing as if he’d forgotten something. “Caballeron. Fine Crime. I wish I could say it’s a pleasure, but the circumstances aren’t exactly pleasant.”

“The feeling’s mutual.” Caballeron looked to Fleur, but she appeared lost in her own world, chewing her lip and brushing her mane anxiously. Trying to solve Celestia’s puzzle, no doubt. He returned his attention to Fine. “Do you want the amulet or not?”

Fine waved a dismissive hoof. “In time. You’ve got far bigger things to worry about.” He turned to Fleur. “Caballeron was the test all along, Fleur.”

“I don’t understand.” Her shoulders slumped. “He helped me find the amulet. He dealt with Daring Do. He even wasted the last few months with me near Ponyville.”

Fine’s voice regained its ominous nature from before. “Is A.K. Yearling still alive?”

Caballeron and Fleur exchanged uncertain expressions. She looked to Fine. “Yes?”

“And that’s where you messed up.”

“Wait a minute.” Caballeron stepped forward, prompting Fine’s attention. “What does Yearling have to do with this?”

“Everything and nothing.” The Mane Archon pointed at him. “This is about you. This has always been about you.” He resumed his pacing, paying no mind to Caballeron’s peering stare. “The Archons keep growing since I took this job. I needed another lieutenant, another member of the Order. But Celestia figured out the list of candidates.”

“What?” Fleur stomped and snorted. “I made that gem server myself! How could she have gotten past the security measures?”

“She didn’t need to.” He waved a dismissive hoof, still not looking at either of them. “All she had to do was ask somepony with access.”

Fleur’s eyes narrowed. “That’s not a lot of ponies.”

Fine whipped around to glare at her. “We’re not blaming them for this! Could you say no to Celestia in her face?”

While Fleur glowered and refused to answer, Caballeron put a few last pieces of the puzzle together. “So I am being recruited.” He couldn’t resist a small smile. “And you two treated it as a joke.”

“We knew you were right,” Fleur grumbled. “That doesn’t negate the ego issue, Cruelles.”

“Yes, you were a candidate,” Fine acknowledged, sitting by his desk with a leg resting on it. “But I hadn’t decided yet. Celestia chose for me, and she chose you. You two have history.”

“History?” Caballeron chuckled and shook his head. “I’ve never even met the princess.”

Fine shrugged. “Take it up with her.”

Fleur stomped once more. “You still haven’t explained how I failed her test! Why was him killing Yearling so important?”

Her boss responded by slamming his hoof on the table, the force of the bang putting her stomp to shame. “You were supposed to test Caballeron yourself! Think about it, Fleur. Celestia relishes misery. That’s what you were meant to nurture in him.”

“How was I supposed to… Oh.” With wide eyes, she turned her attention to Caballeron. “You were supposed to kill her. And I just stood aside.”

“Why?” Caballeron brushed his mane back and rubbed his neck. He now had some exceptionally powerful ponies watching him, and he half-wished he could be back home and away from all this nonsense. “Killing Yearling wouldn’t have done anything. That’s why I didn’t.” Well, maybe it was a bit more complicated than that…

Fine’s eyes narrowed. His voice slowed. He spoke as a narrator announcing the coming climax of a dark play. “You were meant to goad him. To remind him of all the things Yearling did. To nurture his hatred and weed out his doubts. Twist him from the better nature still hiding beneath the brute on the surface, remind him of his long lost love who will never know glory because of one mare who, no matter what he did, would always be his better. You have all the skills needed to entice a stallion to animosity, and you were expected to use them.”

Fleur shrank under his scrutiny. “B-but… How was I supposed to know that?”

His glare didn’t so much as twitch. “She’s Celestia. That should be more than enough of a hint.”

“Now hold on!” Caballeron stood between the two Archons and stared Fine down. “You can’t blame her for not figuring out what Celestia wanted based on that alone.”

Only when Fine turned his glower to him did it dawn upon Caballeron that he was standing up to a pony who might be even more capable than Fleur in creative methods of murder. They called the Mane Archon Celestia’s Dark Hoof, and that pony was giving him a look about as effective as a spear to the chest. He hesitated, wondering if he shouldn’t have just left well enough alone.

And then he mentally slapped himself. He couldn’t not support Fleur. She wasn’t just some filly he’d met, played with and walked away from. She was…

His friend.

He met Fine’s gaze, chest out and shoulders back. “You can’t punish her.”

Fine snorted. “I can do whatever I want, and there’s only one pony in all of Equestria who can stop me.” But then he sat back, expression softening. “And yet… yeah. Fleur’s been punished enough as is.”

Caballeron’s ears perked, all his bravado fading in the light of his surprise. “She has?”

“Yep.” Fine looked to Fleur, who was currently peering at Caballeron as if he were a puzzle she thought she’d figured out until just now. “Consider yourself lucky, Fleur. Your failure to read Celestia like an open book has made her bored of you, and she probably won’t do anything to you. This time.”

Disengaging from a close examination that had been making Caballeron gradually more nervous, Fleur sighed and nodded to Fine. “That is indeed good to hear. I assume I’ll be on regular duties effective immediately?”

“That’s right. But as for you.” He gestured to Caballeron. “You failed Celestia’s test. However, since Celestia considers the test to have not been properly administered, she’s demanding a retake.”

With a huff and a roll of his eyes, Caballeron asked, “Is there any chance I could just say ‘no thanks’ and go home?” He ignored Fleur’s facehoof.

“Of course there is.” Fine smiled in the manner of one explaining to a child why the sky is blue. “But then, Celestia will consider this a personal affront and almost certainly call for you to have an ‘accident’ within the month. Probably just before you reach Estéril Pezuñas, to give you the impression of hope.”

He stood and walked around the desk, headed for the door. “Come. The Princess knows you’ve arrived and will be waiting for you. Fleur? I’d suggest you stay out of this one.”

Fleur hesitated, then looked to Caballeron. She said nothing, but her concerned expression spoke for her: ‘I will come with you if you want me to.’

“Right.” He turned from her. “It’s been a pleasure, Fleur. I really mean that.” He followed the Mane Archon out, closing the door behind him to ensure she would get the message. She was on thin ice as it was, and he wouldn’t let her throw away the out she’d been given. Still, her unspoken offer left him with a warm feeling in his chest. A few months ago, he was sure she’d have never considered offering it. Nor would he have expected it.

It was a curious thing, expecting somepony to want to help. Even curiouser was expecting them to want to help for no personal gain. He’d not experienced such a thing since Silty died.

He missed it.

Fine led him out of his office – and personal living space? – and into the Nocturnal Wing. Rather than go deeper into the dark section of the castle, he brought Caballeron back into the main portion. “I notice you and Fleur have become close.”

Caballeron, walking just a step behind and to the side, glanced over, but Fine wasn’t looking at him. “We’ve become friends.” He abruptly recalled that this stallion had raised Fleur, and the hairs stood up on the back of his neck. “Is that a problem?”

“Not at all. Fleur could use more friends.” Now Fine returned the glance. “Just make sure she doesn’t regret opening up to you.”

Despite the stallion’s calm, neutral tone, Caballeron kept his stance low and peered. “I take it that’s a threat?”

He anticipated some kind of ominous response. The Mane Archon had proven very capable of those so far. But instead, he was startled to hear Fine laugh.

“Caballeron,” he replied in the most pleasant tone he’d held since they’d met, “I don’t have to threaten you. We’re talking about Fleur. If you upset her, me threatening you is moot.” He sobered, but didn’t lose the smile. “I may be her boss, but in terms of strength both physical and magical, she’s my better. Especially magical. And I’m sure you’ve seen what she’s like when irked.”

That was a curious and somewhat worrying reveal. And indeed, Caballeron had had a front row seat to Fleur’s fury. The Mane Archon was entirely correct; he didn’t have to do a thing to him if he offended Fleur. She could do plenty on her own.

But Caballeron had no intention of betraying Fleur’s trust. In her own way, intentionally or not, her presence had helped him. What would he have done after Giulgiul’s Shame if she had simply left him on his own? Bury himself in mares? Drown himself in alchohol? Or just waste away in his old townhouse, growing old and alone and miserable. But Fleur had given him a direction to go, a goal to meet, even a companion to talk to.

She’d been a distraction from the loss of his motivation. She’d occupied his mind long enough to let him get over the shock of Yearling and what not killing her meant, even if he’d never found an answer. It was likely she’d never intended to keep him on the straight and narrow – well, as straight and narrow as it gets for Archons. But whatever her intentions, for the first time in a long time he felt… normal, and he owed that to her. It wasn’t ‘happy’, but it was a big improvement from where he’d been this last decade.

While in his own world, they’d walked deep into the castle, steadily rising higher and higher. He pulled his mind from Fleur and focused on the task ahead. “So what is this test Celestia’s got for me?”

“Can’t say. She told me not to.” Fine now held a deep frown, his brow a mess of furrows as he glared straight ahead. “But I’ll tell you this: it’s one of the crueler things I’ve seen her do.”

Humming, Caballeron tried to imagine what was coming. He came up blank. “You, Fleur and Vinyl made it abundantly clear to me that she wants me miserable. Still, that doesn’t explain what she expects me to get out of this. There’s got to be more than just me being unhappy.”

Fine’s frown turned thoughtful as he considered the topic. “Celestia is a vain creature. She wants everypony to look at her, to know what she is and what she’s done. The majority of Equestria knows her as a divine goddess of good.” A snort made his opinion on that idea very clear. “But that image doesn’t highlight her other deeds, the bad ones, and those are the ones she’s proudest of.”

Speaking as a teacher lecturing a student, Fine concluded, “What Celestia wants from you is your hatred. You’ve made the mistake of largely ignoring her throughout your life, not seeing her as good or bad. If you are going to qualify as an Archon – and especially as a member of the Order – you must hate her with all your soul.”

The concept seemed so… dull. Caballeron made a show of examining the hallway’s opulent décor as he spoke. “That’s it? I’ve lived a large chunk of my life hating somepony. I’m rather accustomed to the experience.”

“Not like this, you’re not.” The quiet warning in Fine’s voice came out crystal clear, though it did nothing to move Caballeron’s opinion. “But regardless, passing the test means hating Celestia at the end of it. I have no doubt you’ll succeed.”

“Right.” Sighing, Caballeron returned his full attention to the Mane Archon. “So what happens after I pass the test?”

Fine looked him up and down before responding. “For the record, I’m not sure you would have been my choice for a new member of the Order of Shadows. But Celestia has spoken, and I am incapable of defying her. Pass the test, and you’ll be given an offer to join us. You will accept, and be trained in all you need to know and do.”

Caballeron raised an eyebrow at the confident tone. “And should I not accept?”

“If it were up to me, you’d just walk away. But since Celestia picked you out, refusal will probably reward you with a kill order. I doubt you’d last ‘till sunrise.”

Celestia didn’t deal in half-measures, did she? It was a shame. Caballeron didn’t have anything tying him to life, so if the grand scheme of things what would death matter? Yet his natural desire to live far outweighed his apathy, and as such the decision had been made for him. So he resigned himself to fate. At least this would be better than wasting the rest of his life without a direction or goal.

Still, he doubted Celestia could do much to him. He had little to care about, so what could she possibly take from him?

“This is the place.” Fine paused before a simple wooden door. They had to have been a dozen stories up at this point, surely the highest they could go without being in one of the towers. “And where I take my leave. You handle the rest on your own.”

Caballeron studied the door. He probably should have felt some apprehension, but the only sensation running through his mind right now was boredom. “Alright, then. Guess I’ll see you later.” He reached for the handle.

“Cruelles.”

Fine met his gaze with a calm, sad expression. “When you leave this room, you’ll be a changed stallion. Try to keep Silty in mind. Maybe it’ll help.” He turned and walked away, unaware of Caballeron's scowl.

As if he had any right to talk about Silty like that! But Caballeron bit his tongue. There were far more important things to worry about right now, such as surviving the next few minutes. Hopefully whatever Celestia had in store for him would be quick. With a grumble, he pushed the door open.

The room was substantial in size, two stories tall and wide enough to fit a couple hundred ponies. It was bare, the marble stones unadorned and not even covered with the usual polish that made them appear seamless in the rest of the castle. The back wall was made up of arched windows that rose almost to the ceiling, revealing a pristine view of the plains and forests far below the Lonely Mountain. He could even make out the large speck that was Ponyville.

And there, sitting on a tall stone chair against the left wall, was the Princess of the Sun herself. She was every bit as radiant as the stories claimed, not that he’d ever doubted them, but he remained as unimpressed as ever. Oh, sure, her mane billowed with all the colors of a sunrise and her body and face could be the source of ravishing dreams, but they mattered little to a stallion who had already met and lost the love of his life.

What was interesting, however, was the foal nestled in her lap. A pegasus filly, orange with a sort of pinkish-purple mane, who trembled as the princess calmly stroked her back.

Celestia beamed at Caballeron as if he were an old friend. “Buenos días, Mr. Caballeron! I must say, it is a pleasure to finally meet you.”

“I’m sure it is,” Caballeron replied in a cynical tone. He stood a dozen feet from her and bowed – if only for the sake of not angering her right away. “Princess. I hear you have some sort of test for me.”

She chuckled, and Caballeron was almost sure he heard wind chimes in there somewhere. Weird effect, that.  When next she spoke, it was entirely in Palabras del Sur. “As direct as they say. Oh, do say hello to little Scion Beacon here, won’t you?”

Caballeron raised an eyebrow. Scion? Had he only thought the child a filly? Regardless, he nodded to her. “Hello, kid.”

Still speaking the language of the south, she continued, “Scootaloo to anypony who doesn’t know her. She changed her name a while back.” Another chiming chuckle. The filly didn’t respond to her words or Caballeron’s greeting, only stared at him with round, glassy eyes while her tiny wings shivered. Celestia kept petting her, as if she were a pet kitten.

Ever smiling and pleasant, Celestia returned her attention to him. “So, have you the amulet?”

Oh, right. He’d forgotten all about it. He promptly retrieved the Alicorn Amulet from his saddlebags, displaying it with a lone hoof as if in offering. Since she seemed insistent on speaking his native tongue, he decided to do the same. “One ancient artifact, as ordered.”

“Ah, excellent.” Celestia caught the amulet in her golden aura. She gave it only a moment’s inspection, as though it were a mere curiosity, then set it on the armrest of her chair. “Well done, Mr. Caballeron. And now let us proceed to why we are here.”

“Good.” He stood up, stretched, and rolled his shoulders. “I’d like to get this test over with, if you don’t mind.”

“Oh, no no.” Tsking and shaking her head, Celestia gestured for him to sit once more. “It’s far too early for that. As I said, we have to discuss why you are here. Then we’ll get to your test. Honestly, Mr. Caballeron, you have to take time and enjoy the little things.”

It took great effort not to groan at Celestia suggestion. Slumping to his haunches, he gestured. “Fine, let’s get this over with.”

“So hasty.” Another shake of the head. Her smile returned, so pleasant and sunny Caballeron thought it might make him sick. “Don’t you have any questions for me before we start?”

Questions? Why would he have questions? He just wanted to pass her stupid test and do whatever he was supposed to do after. Join the Archons, apparently. That idea might have horrified him once, but at the moment he couldn’t work up the energy to care.

Wait… there was one question. “The Mane Archon. He said you and I have had dealings in the past. I’ve never met you before, so what the hay was he talking about?” Now that he thought on it, Fine’s mentioning that couldn’t have been incidental.

“Oh!” She clapped her hooves, the ringing of her hoofguards echoing in the empty space. “I’m so glad you asked! But first, I have to explain the background. It’s a long and tedious story, but I’ll try to stick to the highlights.” She leaned forward with all the excitement of a foal at Hearth’s Warming. “Tell me, Mr. Caballeron, do you have any theories as to why the Jackal kingdom disappeared?”

The jackals? What did they have to do with anything? Still, if this discussion was going to go into ancient history, he wouldn’t complain. “Nopony knows, that’s why they are so fascinating to historians and archaeologists. A once-mighty kingdom of builders and thinkers just up and disappeared 900 years ago for no apparent reason.”

“Ah, but there is a reason,” she corrected with no small joy. “You see, the jackals didn’t like how I was running things in Equestria back then. They saw me spreading my influence and recognized the trouble I was causing. They starting fighting the narrative I was working so hard to create.

“So I had to make an example of them.”

He blinked, not sure he’d heard that quite right. “An… example?”

“Indeed.” She pressed her forehooves together just beneath her chin as her smile grew… wicked. “I wasn’t a quarter as strong then as I am now, and the jackals were a serious threat with their armies and their happy populace and their righteousness. So I had their leaders assassinated, then invaded during the confusion. They put up a good fight. Not as good as the changelings, not by a long shot, but still enjoyable. They did everything by the book and always planned long term. So I moved fast, overwhelmed their grinding bureaucratic methods, and took over the whole of their lands within a decade.

“And then?” Her eyes took on a faraway look, glassy and enraptured. “I slaughtered them. The dogs. The bitches. The puppies. It was glorious. Sometimes, if I try hard enough, I can still hear their howls and begging. Sometimes I did it en mass, sometimes individuals. Sometimes fast, but slow when I could. Fed them to one another, fed them to other races. Ate a little myself, just to try it.” Her face twisted into a grimace. “Ponies just aren’t meant to eat meat, I’m afraid. Still, a worthwhile experiment.”

Caballeron chuckled, to which she only cocked her head and smiled expectantly. He looked up at her with a dry smile. “That’s a nice tale, Princess. Really. But it’s just an attempt to shock and disgust me. I have no reason to believe a word of it.”

She resumed petting Scootaloo, who whined at the attention. The filly wouldn’t stop staring at Caballeron. Her wide-eyed, pleading expression was more unnerving than the princess’s story by far.

“I understand why you’d think that,” Celestia admitted. “It wasn’t until after the deed was done that I came up with my plan to live forever as the ‘source of all things good in the world’. That too was just a scheme, of course, conjured up so that no governing body like the jackals would ever see the need to defy me again. As I said, back then there was a legitimate chance that somepony out there could defeat me in battle, so I had to learn to be cautious.” She pouted. “I’d like to abandon the whole façade and let loose like I did in the Crystal Rebellion, but that would make my rule boring after a while.”

Caballeron cocked his head. “So… is that it? We done here?”

Tittering, Celestia waved a dismissive hoof. “Oh, Cruelles, you are entertaining. I told you, I’m just setting up the background.” Settling back in her seat, hoof scratching Scootaloo’s ear, she continued. “Now, you can imagine that, to maintain my new image of good, I had to either erase my old deeds or have them attributed to somepony else.”

He sighed, resigning himself to an overlong explanation of things that probably weren’t true. “Of course.”

Celestia smirked. It was the look of a pony who was about to drop a bucket of ice water on a sleeping friend’s head. Her horn sparked, and something flashed into existence before her. Caballeron peered at it and realized quickly that it was a piece of sandstone. Without a word, Celestia levitated the object until it hovered before him. Annoyed and disinterested, he nevertheless took the object in his hooves.

Only now did he realize that it was a tablet. It held words in a language he’d not seen in almost fourteen years. As he read, slowly and carefully, he realized he recognized the words. The sentences. The markings. His heart began to pound and his breathing slowed. It was perfect. Just like he remembered. Except…

“Th-this tablet.” He looked to the princess. “It’s from Pawtlpotl. The first one we pulled from that house.” He studied it once more, breathless in his excitement. “B-but it was damaged. Defaced. Somepony changed the letters! This… this is perfectly intact.”

Celestia said nothing as he studied the tablet from every angle, trying to find some clue as to its fakeness. But he could find none. For all he could tell, this was the original. “How?” He looked up once more, gratefulness and joy filling him to his core. “How did you do this?”

“I didn’t.” She chuckled and shook her head. “I simply had the originals replaced.”

“Replaced?” He looked from her to the tablet. Her again. The tablet. His joy gradually faded to something else. Something… darker. “You… you framed Yearling.”

“Of course not.” She grinned, looking for all the world like she was celebrating a long-coming victory. “I framed you.”

The air left his lungs. He saw Yearling staring at him at the guard station as they carried him away, the horror and loss in her gaze. All the years of foul thoughts, of a hunt for revenge that grew less and less rewarding with every passing chase, the empty nights nursing his hatred. Chasing, Fleur, the Firesands. His career, destroyed. His happiness, ruined. His mare…

He met her gaze, entire body going tense. He dropped the tablet, not even flinching when it banged on the floor. “Did you kill Silty?”

Back came Celestia’s pout. She sighed and shook her head. “Sadly, no. That was a legitimate accident. Maybe if I’d acted a little sooner, but fate beat me to the buck that time.”

The world rocked as Caballeron’s knees wobbled. His entire life, ruined. One way or another, this… this bitch was responsible for everything! “Why?”

Celestia rolled her eyes. “Seriously? I just told you why.”

He stomped a step closer. “Y-you could have told me! I could have continued my work but kept the secret. Why go through all that trouble for… for…”

That chiming laugh again. “Oh, you don’t understand me at all, do you? I did it because it was fun, you silly pony.”

Another step closer. He seethed, and for once he didn’t need some demon lurking in the back of his mind to show his fury. “How much of my life have you been manipulating? How many bad coincidences? What all have you done?”

“Nothing.” Celestia purred, stroking Scootaloo’s back in a perfectly relaxed pose. “I didn’t have to do anything. The framing was enough. After that it was just keeping tabs and watching the fireworks. I made sure to have Fine update me on your progress whenever you did something interesting. You’ve been a wonderful demonstration of self-destructive urges.”

He wanted to call her out, to insist that her declaration was a lie. Yet he couldn’t. He knew the truth in it. Every bad decision, every act of loathing that pushed him further and further down the path of hatred. All his own doing.

The anger deteriorated. He slumped, chin almost touching the floor as he at last fully understood his own wretchedness. He’d chased Yearling’s tail for so, so long. And for what? “I really am a terrible pony.”

“Oh, you are.” Her horn lit up. “And now it’s time to prove it.”

Scootaloo was encased in gold. She squirmed as the magic levitated her into the air, tears streaking down her cheeks while she shook her head frantically.

Caballeron stood up and eyed the filly, worry eating its way into his heart. “W-what are you going to do?”

“Oh, not me. You.” Celestia let Scootaloo hover between them, the filly kicking wildly. Whimpers, perhaps screams, were muffled by her ever-closed mouth. Caballeron could only assume she was under some sort of spell keeping it that way. “This filly is my test for you.”

“A filly?” He took a step back, meeting the child’s wide eyes. “Why a filly? What am I supposed to do?”

The wicked smile came back. Celestia tapped the armrest of her chair for a moment. “You were supposed to embrace your hatred for Yearling, only to learn of her innocence after. You failed to do that. So I had to devise something else. Something deeply personal. Something so important to you that it would tear you apart inside far worse than what might have happened. A harsher test, as punishment for failing the first.”

“You haven’t answered my question.” He pointed at Scootaloo. “What am I supposed to do with her?”

“Kill her.”

She said it with such calm simplicity, she might as well have told him to take out the trash. He cocked his head at the filly, who trembled from head to hoof. “Why?”

Celestia didn’t lose the pleasant smile. “Because I told you to.”

He rubbed his forehead, frustrated by her apparent desire to make every little thing a game. “No, I mean, why? You said my test would be something personal to me. I don’t know who this filly is. What’s personal about this?” Maybe if she understood how silly this idea was, he could avoid it entirely. Caballeron wasn’t in the business of murdering foals. Who did she take him for, King Sombra?

She raised a hoof high. “Oh, right. Forgot you’re not too bright.” Leering at his scowl, she levitated Scootaloo closer to herself and gestured to her as if she were a trophy. “This, Caballeron, is no filly. It’s an abomination against nature. Her father was a unicorn.”

Oh. So the filly was a half-breed. Well, that certainly explained Celestia’s disdain.

“Her mother was an earth pony.”

He grimaced; combined genes of all three races? The poor thing was doomed from birth, wasn’t she? He wondered if there was any hope he could get her out of this mess. To his grim displeasure, he knew the answer was ‘probably not’.

“So tell me, my friend…” Celestia leaned forward to eye him closely. “What was Silt Eyes?”

What was Silty? She was… “Oh.”

Celestia nodded, her smile gone entirely. In its place was a cold, neutral expression. “You were going to bring an aberration like this to my world, weren’t you? This, Caballeron, is the freak you would have brought upon my Equestria.”

He stomped his hoof and shook his head hard. “She’s not my child!”

“But she could have been. This foal represents the sin you were prepared to enact with your hideous union.” Celestia used her hoof to tilt the weeping Scootaloo’s face towards him. “Look at her. Look at her face. So normal. So innocent. She did nothing wrong. Nothing at all. But she was born, and that is something I won’t tolerate. The races were never meant to intermingle. You used to think that, didn’t you?”

He did. By the Goddess, he did. Vinyl had introduced to him the wrongness of that idea, but it didn’t change the fact that he used to think it without ever considering the consequences of his relationship with Silty. And this foal, this… Scootaloo. She shouldn’t mean anything to him. She didn’t mean anything to him. But… to murder a child…

“I…” He licked his lips, unable to look away from that pleading face. “I can’t…”

Celestia spoke slow and quiet, her calm gaze failing to conceal the danger within her words. “So tell me, Caballeron. If you had a foal with that unicorn friend of yours… would you have protected it? Kept it from my sight, nurtured it, loved it as if it were a real pony, and let it out into my world as if it actually belonged there?”

He knew the answer. Knew the answer she wanted. He knew it was the wrong answer. But, as he stared into Scootaloo’s pleading eyes, as he thought about the idea of a little unicorn filly running about his legs, of a Silty in the hospital nursing a newborn earth pony colt, of watching that impossible child grow up under his care… he knew there could never be any other answer.

“Yes.” He met Celestia’s gaze, silently pleading with her. “I would.”

For the longest time, she just stared at him. Cold. Quiet. Mane billowing and eyes hard.

Then the smiled. “Good.”

The golden magic swung Scootaloo at a wide angle, smashing her face-first against the hard stone floor. Caballeron gasped, took a step forward, but didn’t dare come any closer. He watched, heart in his throat, as the filly squirmed on the floor as if something were pressing down on her. Squishing her.

Celestia pointed to the windows. “She can’t fly with her mutant wings. Throw her out the window.”

He didn’t have to think on it. He stepped back and shook his head.

Celestia’s smile widened. She raised her leg forward, as if seeking a hoofbump. Scootaloo was flung from the floor and into it, her head snapping sideways as the golden hoofguard impacted her cheek. Caballeron grit his teeth and flinched.

“Kill her.”

“I won’t!”

The magic released the filly, only to come back around just her wing. It swung her violently to the side, as if cracking a whip. The sharp retort of cracking bone filled the air, and even with her mouth sealed closed, Scootaloo’s scream filled his ears.

“Do it.”

He shook his head frantically. “Stop!”

Still holding Scootaloo by the broken wing, the magic flung her into the ceiling.

“Do it!”

“Stop it!”

Scootaloo dropped to the floor in a heap, blood smearing the stones.

“Do it!”

“I can’t!” He took two steps closer, froze. Tears welled in his eyes at the sight of the slow-moving child. “P-please. I can’t.”

Celestia stomped on the child’s back, eliciting a muffled cry. Scootaloo’s wing stretched taught.

“Do it,” Celestia hissed. The corner of her lip peeled back as she sneered. “She doesn’t die unless you kill her. And until you do…”

The wing twisted, different parts moving in different directions. Multiple snaps and cracks made Caballeron cringe, but not as much as Scootaloo’s close-mouthed shrieks. She looked up at him with tiny pupils, a begging, piteous look.

“I can do this for a long, long time.”

Gritting his teeth, Caballeron considered his options. Killing the foal would be a mercy, but—

Celestia’s magic plucked a tailhair from Scootaloo, making the filly flinch.

—if he did that, then… He couldn’t think it. He couldn’t think about killing—

Another pluck, another whimper.

—that child. Every part of his mind argued against it. But if he didn’t—

Pluck. Whimper.

—then this would continue. It would. Celestia wouldn’t start this and not—

Pluck. Squirm.

—finish it. If the poor child died from the torture, she’d just find another. Only now—

Pluck. Muffled sob.

—did he understand her depravity. He had listened to Fleur and Vinyl, but—

Pluck. Whimper.

—he’d not really grasped it. And now, now he was—

Pluck.

“For fucks sake!” He charged, only to slam against a yellow, crackling shield. He pressed against it and tried to send every seething bubble of the hatred boiling inside him to her through his eyes. “Leave her alone for five seconds!”

Celestia grinned.

Pluck. Whimper.

“You can’t make me do this!”

The Princess laughed, and this time it was a cold sound. She laughed and laughed, took in his snarl and laughed some more.

Pluck.

“Oh, Cruelles, you really are simple!”

Pluck.

“I’m not making you do anything.”

Pluck.

“It’s entirely up to you how long it takes for this creature to die.”

Pluck.

“You will kill her entirely of your own volition.”

Pluck.

He banged his hoof against her barrier. “How am I supposed to do that if you won’t let me get near her?”

Another laugh, mercifully short.

Pluck.

“You can’t outwit me, Cruelles. I know you haven’t committed to the idea at all.”

Pluck.

“Stop it!” He fell to his knees, clawing at the barrier even as he met Scootaloo’s gaze. “Leave her alone!”

“Yes. Because it’ll be that easy.”

Scootaloo abruptly flew forward from beneath Celestia’s hoof, impacting the barrier with legs splayed out. She let out a stifled cry as all six of her limps stretched to their physical limits, the unnatural joints in her wing cracking and popping.

“Please!” Tears dripped from his chin as he grasped for the child who wasn’t more than an inch away. “Please, stop!”

There came a sizzling sound, and Scootaloo shrieked through her closed lips. Her cheek darkened, smoked, turned black as the emblem of the sun became branded into it.

“I’ll do anything! Anything!”

The shield cracked, then shattered with enough force to knock him off his hooves. He jumped up and turned to find Scootaloo lying on the floor, limp and hyperventilating through her nose. Her face was twisted in a grimace of agony, the last of the smoke floating up from her cheek. Celestia stood over her, smiling impishly in her victory.

One of the windows to the outside opened. “You have thirty seconds.”

Caballeron didn’t think. His every instinct was to save Scootaloo from any more abuse, and there was one sure, fast way to end her life quickly without having to witness it. He rushed to the wretched child, snatched her in his hooves, and ran for the window. Sliding to a stop, the wind billowing against his face, he took her in his arms and hurried to whisper “I am so sorry” before throwing her out the window.

And that was that. It was done. He stared at the horizon, the image of the filly falling silently out of sight replaying in his head again and again. All the crimes he’d committed, all the darkness that had lingered in his heart, but this? Nothing had prepared him for the empty feeling this left in him. A numbness ran through his every nerve as cold reality sank in. He’d always been a bad pony, but now he felt like he’d graduated to the status of monster. He sank to his haunches and closed his eyes tight, trying to will the feeling of the foal’s coat against his—

“Time’s up.”

A flash. A muffled cry.

Caballeron jerked about, heart slamming against his ribs at the sight of Scootaloo floating in the air not a foot from Celestia. “No!”

Scootaloo’s foreleg straightened and strained as Celestia smiled warmly. “What? I said thirty seconds.” Muscles lengthened and strained. Scootaloo howled behind sealed lips. “She wasn’t dead yet.”

The leg ripped away, blood spurting and muscle tissue dangling. The filly’s screams intensified as the open wound turned black and smoked, the loose hide shriveling at the rapid cauterization. The smoke didn’t even finish rising before the golden aura faded. Scootaloo didn’t make it to the floor; Celestia struck her with her own leg, turned stiff via magic, so that the filly twirled in midair and landed hard on the stone floor a dozen feet away.

A hideous urgency joined Caballeron’s adrenaline as he galloped to Scootaloo’s side. He had to be faster, had to end this now! He pushed the blood-soaked, bruised filly onto her back and wrapped his hooves about her neck. Eyes burning, breath coming in quick gasps, he squeezed. Die. Please, die. Please, please, please… The word repeated in his head, a cruel mantra. Scootaloo barely moved to resist, even as her eyes started to roll back.

Another flash, and she was gone.

“Time’s up again!”

No thoughts were needed. Caballeron spun about and charged. Scootaloo hung limp by Celestia’s side once more, sucking in sharp breaths through her nose and twitching. He didn’t go for her, though. Even as her hind legs became engulfed in yellow flame and her muted screams began anew. He howled and leapt…

And stopped in midair, entire body frozen. His eyes widened as his every muscle refused his commands. A golden aura covered his body, more confining than any shackle. Scootaloo continued to burn, moaning as the flames steadily died down to leave black, charred legs.

“Come now, Cruelles.” Celestia winked cheekily at him. “You really need to work on your aim. Unless you’re trying to hug your Princess, and while I can’t blame you for it, I’m afraid it jut wouldn’t work between us.”

The world spun as he went flying through the air. He hit the wall and screamed as he heard and felt something snap. Spots burst in his vision as he hit the floor hard on his shoulder. The pain seared, consuming his hind leg, but he struggled to think past it. Whatever agony he was feeling was nothing compared to what Scootaloo was going through! He blinked away his tears and looked up to see Celestia twirling Scootaloo by her once-good wing, faster and faster until the there came a gut-wrenching rip.

Flung through the air, Scootaloo impacted the floor shoulder first, bounced once, twice, and slid to a stop by the throne not five feet from him. She just lay there, twitching and sucking in slow breaths.

Caballeron moved. The pain in his leg was like a hot poker to the brain, but he ignored it with everything he had. He snatched up the discarded stone tablet, once a priceless piece of archeology, now naught but a tool for mercy. He slammed it down on the filly's head with all his considerable strength. Again and again. “Die! Die! Please, for the love of Elysium, die!”

He saw the blood, and kept pounding.

He heard the crack, and kept pounding.

He felt the resistance of bone fading, and kept pounding.

And pounding

And pounding.

And pounding.

And pounding.

And pounding.

And pounding.

And pounding.

And pounding.

And pounding.

And pounding.

And pounding.

And pounding.

And pounding.

He slipped on the blood, fell sideways. The side of his face impacted the hard corner of the stone throne, sending a fresh, biting agony into his face. Just like that, his energy left him, and he let himself lie limp against the seat. Through his burning, blurry vision he could see nothing but a kaleidoscope of pink and red and orange. It cleared for a moment, the Alicorn Amulet coming into view, then blurred again. A high-pitched ringing filled the silence while his breathing steadily slowed. He closed his eyes…

Something like a whine and a sob slipped from his throat, a sound like he’d never heard before. He pushed himself away from the pink and red and orange blur, but barely had his hooves on the floor before he doubled over and vomited. The world spun. He tilted to one side, another, collapsed. His legs quaked and his throat constricted as the sound of flesh failing echoed in his ears over and over and over again.

Another sound broke up the chaos of his mind: hoofsteps, loud and ringing. A gold-clad hoof landed before his muzzle.

“Cruelles, that may have been the single most delightful thing I have witnessed in decades.”

With what little energy he had left, Caballeron tilted his neck to view Celestia standing over him. His eyes were sheathed in gold for but a moment, and then the color faded and his vision was clear. Celestia smiled down at him as if she were a schoolfilly ogling her crush. She shuddered with an expression of pure bliss.

“You lasted so much longer than I expected. I thought for sure you’d kill her right away. Congratulations: you have a soul, and you pass my test. I hope we get to do something like this again sometime.” She turned from him as the tears once again impeded his sight. “It’s days like this that reminded me why I love this job.”

Her hoofsteps receded. A door opened and closed.

Caballeron let his cheek hit the floor.

He sobbed until his throat burned like hot coals, and then sobbed some more.





His cheek lay on something soft. Something warm pressed against his side. His eyes flickered open to reveal a off-pink body. “W-what?”

A familiar voice shushed him. “Take your time.”

He felt inclined to follow the advice. His leg burned and his body felt stiff. With a long yawn, he rubbed the sleep from his eyes and tried to take in his surroundings. Bare stone, windows on the far wall…

A chill ran across his body. Fresh tears welled up and he curled into a tight ball. It hadn’t been a dream. He’d done it. He’d actually done it. “Oh, Goddess, Silty… What have I b-become?”

“None of that now,” the voice whispered. Fleur. It was Fleur’s voice. “You aren’t responsible for this.”

“Bullshit!” He was on his hooves, stumbling away from her. The instant his back leg touched ground a feeling like a hot knife tore through his knee. He screamed and collapsed, curling into a ball again and sobbing. He could see that filly in his hooves, feel the blood, hear the cracking bone. He pressed his hooves to his face and prayed somepony would do to him what he’d done to her.

Fleur was stroking his mane again. He couldn’t see her, but he didn’t have to. “P-please,” he whispered, “tell me I didn’t do it.”

Her response was soft, but firm. “I will do no such thing.”

Half-snarling, half-weeping, he shoved her hoof away and tried to stand. His legs shook far too much to allow it. His eyes went to the window, and he began crawling for it. Celestia wouldn’t save him. He’d go out there and—

He jerked to a stop. Looking back, he found his tail caught in Fleur’s pink aura. “Let me go.”

She said nothing. Only stared at him with heavy-lidded, pitying eyes.

“Let me go, Fleur.”

Instead, she stepped forward and draped herself over his back. Her extra weight was more than enough to keep him pinned.

He stared at her. She didn’t meet his gaze. Something was happening, something strange and terrible and frothing and rising and—

“Let me go!” He scrambled at the stones, hind leg searing as he fought to get out from beneath her. “Damn you, get off! Off!” He kicked and snarled and cursed, and all along Fleur said not a word. She wouldn’t even look at him, her face hidden behind her mane. He tried rolling over, tried crawling again, attempted to hit her. Nothing worked. He could only squirm in impotence, heart bleeding and breath gasping.

At last, his energy left him. He let his cheek rest on the floor. Sniffling and fighting the tightening in his throat, he stared at the open sky only a few dozen feet away. “P-please,” he whispered, voice hoarse. “Don’t make me live with this.”

Still she said nothing, so he went limp and let his mind wander. That proved a mistake, for it brought him to places he didn’t want to visit again. He saw Scootaloo’s face, her pleading purple eyes boring into his own. And those lips… always closed. Always, no matter how hard she screamed. Why had Celestia forced them closed? What benefit did it offer? Perhaps it trapped her grief, compressed it like air within the filly, so that every agonizing moment would be more and more intense and—

He clenched his eyes closed, searching for that little room in the back of his mind. “Silty… Please. H-help me.” He waited, watching, praying for some sort of movement. None came. “I n-need you. I need your g-goodness. Please.” When she failed to appear, he locked himself inside and waited. He couldn’t do this by himself. He needed her. He needed his Silty, his moral compass, his life.

He sat in that room, ignorant of the world beyond its walls. He couldn’t lock out the pain though, no matter how much he wanted to. And when he finally looked up, he saw… a crib? Strange. He and Silty had never…

But the idea was there. It could have been. It should have been. He wanted it to be so.

A false dream. But a good one. Even as it filled him with loss, it also gave him warmth to know that, once upon a time, he’d had a chance. And with that warmth came more images, pictures on the walls. Pictures that moved, like they were windows into another world and life. There, a filly Silty chasing him through the streets, face scrunched up in mock menace. She was big even as a foal.

There, a little older, staring out the window at the rain. He lips moved, and he could almost hear her asking innocent questions. Where did the rain come from? Why did pegasi not control the weather there but did elsewhere? Was it unfair to the clouds in other cities that they couldn’t be where they wanted? Always the curious one, always wanting to know more.

Another picture, Silty standing next to her father. Blushing, unable to meet his eyes in her yellow gown. She said she looked and felt like an elephant. It took him all night and well after the dance was over to come up with the reply “I hope you’ll let me love every inch of you.”

It had been a quiet romance. They rarely spoke of it, rarely acted on it, but when they did…

She never came back, but perhaps she didn’t need to. She’d left him gifts, and he found they were enough to calm his throbbing heart. He wandered that room, now filled with wonderful memories of a mare that he’d almost lost forever. His circling path brought him back to the empty crib, and he stared at it for some time, wondering about things that could have been.

But, gradually, his thoughts went back to the only filly that mattered. Scootaloo… She could have been theirs. In another world, perhaps. And he’d…

No. Not him. He knew he would never forgive himself for the act he’d committed against a mere child, but he also couldn't delude himself. He’d done that for over a decade. It would grant him no relief. There was only one pony responsible for this. And just like that, he left the room. He didn’t hesitate, didn’t look back. He returned to the real world, safe in the knowledge that he could come back at any time.

Silty hadn’t abandoned him after all, even if he’d abandoned her.

Had he fallen asleep, or merely zoned out? He couldn’t tell, but the sky outside the window was just beginning to shift into the pink of a setting sun. He raised his head to watch it for a time, curious about the sick, churning sensation in his gut. The sunset had once been a lovely thing, if often overlooked. Now it just reminded him that the devil held the cards.

Something shifted. Fleur was still on his back. She raised her head from the ground to stare at him with a carefully composed face, neither smiling nor frowning. “How are you feeling?”

He sighed, but didn’t turn away. “Like I just murdered an innocent filly with my bare hooves.”

Her lips pursed in a thin line while she studied him. She spoke with evident care, slow and quiet. “Now that you’ve calmed down, we can talk properly. And after we talk, you are free to do whatever you want. If you want to throw yourself out that window, I won’t stop you. But I had to make sure you were rational before I let you do such a thing.” She peered at him. “I’m going to let you up now.”

The faint hint of warning in her voice was… strangely reassuring, so he nodded. “I’ll talk.”

A moment’s pause. “Very well.” As promised, she stood up and stepped off of him. Cabaleron moved cautiously, ever aware of his broken leg. It hurt to move at all, but he pushed through the fiery pain and settled himself on his haunches. Fleur sat before him, not losing her grim expression.

“To begin, I would like to apologize.” She bowed her head low. “Had I understood what Celestia wanted from us in Mongolia, I would have treated you differently. You might have hated me for it, but then this wouldn’t have happened. If you choose to hate me now, I will understand.”

Caballeron frowned at her, pondering the offer. But all he really felt, outside the numbness of his emotions, was a curiosity that he did not entertain her offer. Not even subconsciously. The old Caballeron might have, but today, knowing what he knew…

With a sigh, he replied, “I think I like you better as a friend who made an honest mistake than an enemy by necessity.” He tried to smile at her hesitant glance, but couldn’t pull it off. “It’s alright, Fleur. I don’t blame you for this.”

Exhaling slowly, she sat back up and nodded. “Thank you, but if it’s all the same to you, I still intend to take some credit.”

“To ease my burden?” When she dodged his eyes, he looked away. His eyes landed on something orange and bent, lying in a pool of blood. His stomach lurched when he realized it was a leg. He shuddered and turned back to her quickly. “You promise not to bother me about it not being my fault, and I won’t bother you about it not being your fault.”

Fleur observed him from the corner of her eye. “I guess it’ll do.” She faced him properly, the stony mask back in place. “Now I need to know what you intend to do.” Her hoof rose to silence him before he could speak. “I don’t need an answer right away. I’m just saying that Celestia’s going to expect you to react somehow, and there’s no telling how long she’ll wait for your answer.”

His eyes tracked her hoof as it dropped to the floor. They drifted, landed on that orange leg once more. It stood out among the drab stone like a morbid beacon, summoning him as a moth is drawn to a flame. Standing over it, he gazed at the stretched skin, the ripped flesh, and the pool of blood that stopped just before reaching his hooves. Out the corner of his eye was another orange shape, larger, deformed, ugly.

His stomach rebelled, his breathing grew fast and short. Yet he didn’t look away. He wanted to own this, to acknowledge it. This was his sin, regardless of the circumstances.

Fleur’s hoofsteps approached from behind. Still gazing at that leg, he quietly spoke. “Your boss. Fine Crime. You told me before that he wants to bring Celestia down. Can he do it?”

She was silent for some time. “I don’t think so. Celestia is powerful in a great many ways. But it is Fine’s goal, and Fine’s goal is my goal.”

“And that of the Archons?”

“Yes. And especially that of the Order.” Her hoof touched his shoulder, gentle as a leaf. “I must warn you. I feel as though the last few months have been… healing you, in a way. You’ve been steadily walking away from the dark life you’ve known for years. Cruelles, joining the Archons… you’ll have to do things. Probably nothing as bad as this, but…”

She pressed her hoof tightly against his shoulder, perhaps intending to make clear to him her seriousness. Or maybe her concern.

“It’s not too late to say no. If you don’t want to go back to living as the villain, then you probably should.”

The villain. That’s all he’d ever been, wasn’t it? Gazing upon Scootaloo’s lost leg, he felt more corrupt and hideous than he ever had before. His options were so few, and all lead to death in time. But in the face of the worst kind of hideousness… Would Silty have understood? Perhaps. He’d have to find out later.

He reached up to touch her hoof, turned his head towards her, but didn’t meet her eyes.

“I’m in.”
> Intermission V – Hope from Tartarus
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------




If Fine says it happened, then it happened. That doesn’t make it any easier to believe. One pony has achieved the impossible. A half-dead pony can do it. Why not a few healthy, driven, perfectly alive ones do the same?

Maybe that’s what he thinks. Personally, I think he’s nuts.

I’ll do what he wants though. Shouldn’t be hard. If it works I can safely say I did something good for Equestria. It won’t, but even hopeless bastards like myself can dream a little. He thinks that one shattered pony breaking out of Equestria’s greatest prison is a sign of changes in the near future. Stupid.

Still

I gotta admit, when I heard that the Gates had opened, if only for a minute, I felt a chill run down my spine. Who knows? I’ve been wrong before.

—Cruelles Caballeron, Book of Shadows XLVIII,
June 8, 1005
Excerpt from personal diaries, translated from Palabras del Sur, June 16, 1007








June 7, C.Y. 1005 
Canterlot Castle


Caballeron always thought he’d taken good care of himself, at least physically. How could a pony who made a living roaming the wide world and exploring ancient tombs not be in good health? So when he felt a dull ache in his knees, he began to worry if perhaps he was getting too old for this kind of life.

Not that he’d ever admit to it out loud, of course. Fleur would never let him hear the end of it. Vinyl would probably poke fun at him for it too. Not that he could blame them, considering he was even older than Fine Crime by a few years. That stallion never seemed to slow down for anything, and Caballeron had no intention of being the first in the Order to show weakness.

That didn’t make climbing up dozens of storeys any easier. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead, neck and flanks as he climbed step after curving step. Just how high did this accursed tower go? He couldn’t fathom why anypony would build one so high, especially in an age when elevators hadn’t been developed yet. What in the wide world of Equestria had Canterlot’s architects been thinking?

He passed by numerous doors on his way up the circular staircase. They all looked identical, so he was relieved when he spotted Fine Crime sitting patiently next to one a couple storeys up. “I hope you have a good reason for making me come all the way up here, Fine.”

Fine leaned over the edge of the hollow stairwell. “What’s the matter, Caballeron? I thought you liked exercise.”

“Maybe when it’s getting me to a goal,” he countered, though without any force to his tone. “Something tells me you’re just gonna talk to me, which is hardly the same.”

“Whiner.”

“Drill sergeant.”

“Pansy.”

“Mud pony.”

Fine chuckled as Caballeron at last reached his level. “Your attacks are weak, old stud.”

“Would you prefer I insulted you in my native language?” Only now did Caballeron notice the thick tome balanced on Fine’s back. “What’s that?”

“No, and it’s a book.” Fine turned to open the door next to them. “You know, square object, has pages, ponies read from them?”

“You’re in fine form today.”

“Puns with my name? Cheap.”

Now it was Caballeron who chuckled as he followed Fine inside. He hadn’t intended the pun, but he wasn’t about to say so. They entered a narrow hallway that circled around a perimeter. Walking along it, Caballeron soon realized the corridor probably surrounded a single, small room. “So what are we doing up here, really?”

The Mane Archon was all seriousness in an instant. “I’ve got a job for you. Something’s happened, something that hasn’t happened in several millennia. I think it’s a sign, and I want to be prepared.”

Caballeron rolled his eyes. A ‘sign’, was it? He knew better than to challenge the suggestion, but he also knew Fine had some rather fanciful ideas. Ideas like there being two Celestias, or that Princess Luna wasn’t an act put on by Nightmare Moon to fool innocent ponies into trusting her before breaking them like juicy bones between her fangs. And whatever this fanciful new thing was that Fine had uncovered, it undoubtedly meant trouble for him.

Still, Fine had been through some serious shit. Caballeron couldn’t blame him for being a little off. Knowing it was better to humor the stallion than openly criticize, he asked, “So what ‘sign’ happened that’s got you so interested?”

“Somepony escaped Tartarus.”

Caballeron tripped, barely managing to keep from face-planting on the hard stone floor. All his confidence washed away as the implications struck him with all their horror. “Y-you can’t be serious. Nopony escapes Tartarus!”

They stopped before a large iron door, on which was a small, closed window. Fine turned to Caballeron with his most ominous frown, which was more than enough to make even him hesitate. “Nopony until now. Twilight Sparkle is loose.”

Twilight Sparkle? “Celestia’s protégé?” A moment later, true understanding came to him. “You mean the supposed changeling that showed up two months ago.” At Fine’s raised eyebrow, he waved a dismissive hoof. “Don’t give me that look, obviously it wasn’t a changeling. They’ve been extinct for centuries.”

“You’d be amazed how many ponies bought the official story.” Fine sat, carefully levitating his book and setting it aside. “But regardless of what we think, the truth is evident: by some miracle, this Twilight doppleganger escaped. We believe it happened weeks ago.”

“So, what? You need somepony to go ‘take care’ of her?” Caballeron shrugged. “Have Surprise or Gulfstream do it. Isn’t this their kind of job?”

“We’re not killing her,” Fine corrected with a shake of his head. “I’ve managed to convince Celestia that there’s no point. She’s damaged enough as it is that there’s more misery in her continuing to live.”

“Okaaay.” Caballeron crossed his arms. “Then what’s the mission?”

“Artifact recovery. That’s your kind of job.” Raising a hoof to forestall any questions, Fine added, “But first, a little background.”

Of course. There was always background. Caballeron would rather just go where he needed to go, but he knew the Mane Archon wouldn’t let him get away that easily. It seemed a lengthy lecture was imminent. Suppressing his groan, Caballeron got as comfortable as he could on the rough stone before giving a begrudging nod of acceptance.

Fine returned the gesture, expression as serious as ever. “There’s a spell scroll hidden in the castle. I call it the Tartarus Scroll. According to Twenty-Seventh Book of Shadows, Celestia herself made it. The spell is extremely complex, far beyond my capacities, but the purpose is simple: to send a target directly to the deepest depths of Tartarus. One way.”

Caballeron whistled. “Now that’s a spell. Sounds like an instant win for whomever has it.”

“Exactly.” Fine sighed and closed his eyes. A shiver ran down his spine. “I’ve seen it. I watched when Celestia used it to send Governess Cadance to Tartarus at the end of the Crystal Rebellion. That was before I was the Mane Archon.”

A moment of silence passed. Fine didn’t open his eyes. His face began to pale and he started to squirm. At last his eyes popped open, and Caballeron was taken aback at the haunted look in them. The Mane Archon exhaled slowly, brushing his mane back with a hoof. “S-sorry. Bad memories.”

“Right.” What in Celestia’s name could make the toughest pony Caballeron knew react so badly? “I take it you want to use the scroll.”

“No.” Another shudder ran through Fine. “I saw an image of how Twilight looked after she left Tartarus. She’s… not as pretty as the one we know, and let’s leave it at that. Point is, if a creature that wrecked can escape, Celestia most certainly could too. The most we’d do is buy a few weeks of anarchy.”

Finally recovering from whatever had passed through his thoughts, Fine leveled Caballeron with his commanding gaze. “I want to destroy it. Unfortunately, that’s not something you can just ‘do’.”

Caballeron raised an eyebrow. “Why? It’s just paper.”

In response, Fine lit up his horn. The little window in the iron door snapped open, the sound echoing in the otherwise quiet hall. “That’s why.”

Sensing the invitation, Caballeron went to the door. Flakes of ice and snow drifted out of the little window. The edges of it were gradually building up frost. Careful not to touch the undoubtedly freezing metal, he peered through. He was rewarded with a flash of icy blue eyes, eyes that were flying right at him! He jumped back with a grunt as something large and heavy slammed into the other side of the door.

A muzzle, long and pale blue, forced its way through the window. Sharp fangs like icicles snapped at him, and a high pitched, ghostly whinny filled the air. Caballeron stared open-mouthed at the creature struggling to get out, only its snarling muzzle visible in the small window. “What in Tartarus is that?”

“That,” Fine replied solemnly, “is a wendigo. One of four.”

Wendigo? In the castle? Now Caballeron had heard everything. “How the hay did they get in there?”

Fine sat by his side, looking up at the window with an expression as cold as the frost slowly spreading across the iron door. He didn’t flinch when the creature let out another howl. “According to the Sixth Book of Shadows, Celestia had the Archons capture these when they were newborns. She was a lot weaker than she is now, and thought she could train them to act as guard dogs.”

The image of almighty Celestia flying across the darkened skies with a quartet of wendigo surrounding her brought a fresh chill to Caballeron’s heart. “I take it she didn’t succeed.” He prayed she didn’t succeed.

“It turns out that wendigo are too wild and destructive. They never imprinted onto her, and proved untameable.” As the beast finally retreated back into the window, Fine used his magic to slam it closed once more. The motion sent flakes of ice drifting through the cool air. “But she found other uses. The wendigo are magically connected to a few things Celestia wants protected, things like the Tartarus Scroll. If anypony approaches those things, the wendigo will be teleported there. Of course, no training was needed to get them to attack on sight.”

Caballeron nodded numbly. “I… can see how that would be a problem.” He turned to Fine. “Would they also attack her?”

He shook his head. “One of the Mane Archons before me tried that. Celestia’s power by that point was too great; even the wendigo couldn’t harm her. The Mane Archon himself was killed by the creatures right after he freed them.”

Of course somepony would have already tried it. Letting out a disappointed snort, Caballeron turned away from the door and its wretched inhabitants. “Alright, I get the picture. You need some way to deal with the wendigo before you can get to and destroy that scroll. I’m guessing you have something in mind.”

On que, the book floated over to Fine, already opened and flipping pages. After a few seconds it stopped, and he moved it so Caballeron could see. “Do you recognize this?”

Peering at the pages, it didn’t take long for him to notice the three cross-sectional images depicting a rugged, crystalline object. His lips ticked up in a smile as a fresh eagerness bubbled within him. “It’s the Crystal Heart, the Crystal Empire’s most famed and glorious artifact. But it disappeared after Sombra was sent to Tartarus in the first century.”

“Not disappeared,” Fine corrected. “Shattered.”

“Oh.” So much for a chance at finding a true relic of ancient times. Caballeron sagged, his ears folding as he gazed longingly at the Heart. “That’s… Oh.”

Fine’s took the book back and peered at its pages. “The Crystal Heart was a love siphon, to put it simply. It would store any love that was channeled into it, and could later use that love energy to repel opposing forces: anger, hatred, fear, so on. Celestia sought to corrupt it after she annexed the Empire into Equestria. When it turned out to be incorruptible, she destroyed it instead.”

Groaning, Caballeron turned his eyes to the iron door once more. “What is the point of talking about a relic that doesn’t exist anymore?”

The book snapped closed, the sound echoing in the narrow corridor. “We could use the Crystal Heart to defeat the wendigo, or at least keep them at bay long enough to destroy the scroll.”

With a dull stare at him, Caballeron replied, “You didn’t answer the question.”

“The point, my pessimistic friend, is that the Crystal Heart isn’t some ancient relic born from the fires of creation.” Fine met Caballeron’s gaze with a solemn expression. “It was made. And it can be made again.”

“Made?” Caballeron’s ears perked at that. “How?”

Taking the book in both hooves, Fine offered it to the former archeologist. “That is what I want you to find out.”

Gingerly, he took the book, eyes never leaving Fine’s. “You want me, an entirely non-magical – no, magic-ignorant – earth pony, to try to recreate the Crystal Heart?” He’d have scoffed were it not for his boss’s dead serious stare. “Isn’t this a job for Fleur?”

“Celestia watches Fleur too closely,” Fine replied. “She knows about this, and may be able to lend you aid, but in general she needs to stay well away from it. If you must contact her for help, don’t use the gem network. Celestia has ways of getting into it. Face-to-face except under the most dire necessity.”

Caballeron shook his head. “I still don’t understand. What about Vinyl? Heck, what about you?”

Fine chuckled, a cold and lifeless sound. “You really think I could do this and not inform Celestia? Impossible. As to Vinyl, she’s got her hooves full with a long-term mission in Gallopea. Even if that wasn’t the case, it would be a bad idea to cancel her tour over there. Besides, this isn’t at all her area of expertise.”

He shrank under the arguments that he knew were fair and accurate. He thought about what was being asked of him, but it still seemed over his head. “And… Octavia? She’s far smarter than me. And more resourceful, and cool-headed and… heck, she’s got all the good traits I don’t. And then some.”

“No offense intended,” Fine replied with a lopsided, almost goofy smile, “but I am aware.” Recovering his stoic manner with a cough, he continued, “But Octavia’s got her own mission overseas, and at a critical juncture. Calling her back now for this would be suspicious.”

He reached up to press a hoof to Caballeron’s shoulder. “You’ve got the skills for this, Caballeron. Everything you need is available to you. All you’ve gotta do is make use of them. You’re more valuable than you give yourself credit for.”

With a snort, Caballeron pushed the hoof away. “Quit trying to butter me up.” Rubbing the dull cover of the book, he sighed. “I guess I have no choice, but I don’t think this will work. Do I at least have a starting point?”

“You do.” Fine’s horn flashed, producing a puff of smoke in the air between them. When it faded, a manila folder hovered in his red aura. He set the folder atop the book. “You’re going to the Crystal Empire. There’s a mage there by the name of Sunburst. He’s the world’s leading expert on magical artifacts, with special attention made to those of the Crystal Empire. If he doesn’t know what to do, he can at least point you in the right direction.”

With a nod, Caballeron tucked the folder between the pages of the book. “Is he a regular contact?”

Fine offered a dark smile. “Not that he knows it. He’s a goody four-hooves, so we enlisted his cooperation by more subdued means. You’ll find the information in the folder.”

This was definitely a task out of Caballeron’s league, but he understood that Fine had no other ponies available for the task. He supposed all he could do was his best. He stared at the book for a while, wondering just how hard this would be. Then it dawned upon him that this… meant something. He looked to Fine with wide eyes.

“You’re getting ready to make your move, aren’t you?”

Fine, who had been staring at the iron door, glanced at him as if he’d just said ice was cold. “I’m always getting ready to make my move.”

“No, I mean… soon.” Caballeron licked his lips, anticipation mixing with his uncertainty. “Something’s changed, something that you think gives you a real chance.”

At that, Fine looked to the floor with a furrowed brow. The pause between them was pregnant with Caballeron’s eagerness. The idea that Celestia could be defeated at all was a fool’s dream. And yet, if there was a chance it could happen within his lifetime…

Fine spoke quietly. “Twilight Sparkle, the one who escaped. Do you know who she is?”

He didn’t have to think on it. “No. I have no idea.” And little interest, for that matter.

Perhaps catching his disdain, Fine peered at him. “She’s the Unknown Princess.”

A blink. Another. “That’s impossible.”

“Celestia confirmed it.”

To that, Caballeron had only one thing to say. “Obviously, she’s lying.”

“No, she wasn’t.” Fine looked ahead, staring at nothing as he spoke. “When she first arrived, Celestia was anxious. Uncertain. Afraid. She knows that this… ‘broken’ Twilight is the real deal. Call me naïve if you must, even insane, but I don’t think her escape from Tartarus was by luck. Her existence means something, and I intend to keep a very close eye on her. If she is what Celestia believes her to be, then she might be the key the Archons have been waiting on all these centuries.”

Caballeron’s shoulders slumped. “You mean to tell me you’re preparing to risk everything because of the actions of some crippled doppleganger who happens to look like Celestia’s protégé?” When Fine offered only a wan smile, he shook his head. “You really are crazy.”

With the smallest of smirks, Fine nodded. “Maybe. Just maybe.”

He was going to get them all killed. Which, as far as Caballeron was concerned, was of no consequence. He’d forfeited his life three years ago when he murdered an innocent filly with his own two hooves. The others might have more concerns about the matter, but for him life was nothing more than a chance to get a shot at Celestia. If that meant following a crazy stallion in a suicide scheme, so be it.

“I’ll take the next train.” He set the book on his back and turned for the exit. “If I can get you your Heart, I will. But where are you going to get the love necessary to fill it in a bucked up world like this?”

Though he’d turned away, he could see Fine’s confident smile in his mind’s eye.

“Don’t worry, Caballeron. Love isn’t as uncommon a commodity as you might think.”
> Chapter Timeline (Here There Be Spoilers!)
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

I decided to create this mini-timeline to help readers determine the order of events, considering that the story is written out of chronological order. For those wanted to get a bigger picture, may this assist you. This timeline isn't as thorough as the one I use for my story development, and doesn't include every chapter in the story. Rather, it only focuses on the major events. Even so, it is inclusive to all the main characters.

Have a key:


Date
Relevant Chapter
Location
Event








October 10, C.Y. 986
Fleur de Lis: Shadow Pony
Zamoroʐyenniye Krilo, Grypha
Fine Crime murders the entire Purpurnyj Family, but spares the youngest daughter, Fleur

October 17, C.Y. 986
Fleur de Lis: Walking with a Stranger
Stalliongrad
Fine Crime leaves Fleur Purpurnyj at an orphanage

March 7, C.Y. 987
Cruelles Caballeron: Find of a Lifetime
The Badlands
Caballeron and Silty Eyes discover the lost Jackal city of Pawtlpotl

December 17, C.Y. 987
Fleur de Lis: Into One's Own?
Stalliongrad
Fleur Purpurnyj is accepted to the Royal Academy for Gifted Unicorns

March 1, C.Y. 989
Cruelles Caballeron: Blows
Estéril Pezuñas
Silty eyes, fiancee of Cruelles Caballeron, dies in a carriage accident

May 12, C.Y. 989
Cruelles Caballeron: Blows
Estéril Pezuñas
A.K. Yearling is assigned as Cruelles Caballeron's personal assistant for the Overlook Dig

May 17, C.Y. 989
Fine Crime: The Face of Evil
The Crystal City
Last day of the Crystal Rebellion
Governess Cadance and Shining Armor imprisoned in Tartarus

July 3, C.Y. 989
Cruelles Caballeron: Blows
Estéril Pezuñas
Cruelles Caballeron arrested for tampering with Equestrian artifacts, among other minor crimes

August 26, C.Y. 989
Fine Crime: The Mane Archon
Phillydelphia
Fine is unwittingly selected as the next Mane Archon

September 3, C.Y. 989 (Fine Crime's Birthday!)
Fine Crime: The Mane Archon
Canterlot
Fine kills his mentor, Hoofknife, and inherits the title of Mane Archon

November 24, C.Y. 989
Fine Crime: Celestia's Test
Canterlot
Fine oversees the murder of Amethyst Star's family

December 10, C.Y. 989
Fine Crime: My Little Monster
The House of Eyes
Fine collects Pinkie Pie for transfer to the Everfree

December 17, C.Y. 989
Fine Crime: My Little Monster
Fine Crime: Lawn Ornament
Everfree Forest
Surprise the Pegasus is created
Fine Crime learns the true history of Celestia, Luna and Discord

December 23, C.Y. 989
Fine Crime: When Truth Becomes Deception
Canterlot
Fine is confirmed by Celestia as the Mane Archon

December 24, C.Y. 989
Fleur de Lis: Tending to a Demon
Canterlot
Princess Celestia asks Fleur Purpurnyj to take care of Fine Crime during his therapy

December 25, C.Y. 989
Fine Crime: Government Health Care
Fleur de Lis: Tending to a Demon
Canterlot
Fine begins treatment for the Bloodmane
Fleur acts as Fine's nurse

March 15, C.Y. 990
Fine Crime: Government Health Care
Fleur de Lis: Tending to a Demon
Canterlot
Fine is cured of the Bloodmane
Fleur Purpurnyj is renamed Fleur de Lis

August 18, C.Y. 990
Fleur de Lis: Pretty Pony
Canterlot
Fleur de Lis begins her career as a model

November 1, C.Y. 991
Cruelles Caballeron: A New Life
The Burning Lands
Eccentric, aristocratic deer Chasing-The-Green-Wind frees Cruelles Caballeron from prison in exchange for his services as a treasure hunter

November 2, C.Y. 991
Intermission I: Prodigy
Canterlot
Celestia accepts Twilight Sparkle as her student alongside Sunset Shimmer

July 12, C.Y. 993
Cruelles Caballeron: Under New Management
Riverwood of the Tribes of Green
Chasing-The-Green-Wind assassinated by the Archons
Archons hire Cruelles Caballeron for his services as a treasure hunter

July 20, C.Y. 994
Vinyl Scratch: Guardian
Hoofington
Vinyl meets Amethyst Star

August 8, C.Y. 996 (Amethyst Star's Birthday!)
Vinyl Scratch: A New Friend
Hoofington
Vinyl and Amethyst meet Trixie Lulamoon

July 4, C.Y. 997 (Vinyl Scratch's [Presumed] Birthday!)
Vinyl Scratch: Slice of Life
Hoofington
Vinyl adopts Amethyst and becomes Trixie's legal guardian

April 20, C.Y. 998
Fleur de Lis: Into One's Own
Sīṃgakh, Nildia
The Rape of Sīṃgakh

April 14, C.Y. 999
Vinyl Scratch: Opportunity Outside the Community
Hoofington
Vinyl agrees to go on a world charity tour

November 16, C.Y. 999
Vinyl Scratch: Crossfire
Neighrobi
The Jioni Barabara terrorist group interrupts Vinyl's concert
Amethyst is kidnapped

November 23-24, C.Y. 999
Vinyl Scratch: In The Hooves of Strangers
Neighrobi
Vinyl agrees to work with Octavia to get Amethyst back
Vinyl loses her sight in the fighting

November 29, C.Y. 999
Vinyl Scratch: Scars
HMS King Bullion
Fine offers Vinyl a favor

January 6, C.Y. 1000
Gulfstream: Making a Mark
Foal Mountains
Gulfstream Dust is taken in by Lightning Dust's parents

January 9, C.Y. 1000
Vinyl Scratch: The Antidote
Canterlot
Vinyl receives Amethyst's antidote from Celestia

January 12, C.Y. 1000
Vinyl Scratch: The Antidote
Hoofington
Vinyl is given magical sight and joins the Archons
Amethyst is cured of her memory curse
Trixie loses her memories

June 21, C.Y. 1000
Intermission II: From the Sky
Canterlot
Princess Luna returns from the Moon

August 18, C.Y. 1000
Gulfstream: Competition
Cloudsdale
Gulfstream, Lightning Dust and Rainbow Dash meets Nightmare Moon
Lightning Dust wins 1st Place in the Best Young Flyers Competition
Rainbow Dash wins 6th Place in the Best Young Flyers Competition

September 1, C.Y. 1000
Intermission IV: The Two
Manehattan
With the aid of Fleur de Lis, Princess Luna rescues the twins Jimmy and Nye Stone

January 9, C.Y. 1002
Gulfstream: Building with Broken Glass
Cloudsdale
Rainbow Dash breaks up with Lightning Dust

July 13, C.Y. 1002
Cruelles Caballeron: Ghosts
Furlin, Germaney
Fleur de Lis and Cruelles Caballeron are assigned to recover the Alicorn Amulet

July 26, C.Y. 1002
Cruelles Caballeron: Giulgiul's Shame
Uvres Marshes, Mongolia
The Alicorn Amulet is recovered

August 9, C.Y. 1002
Cruelles Caballeron: Chasing the Amulet
Manehattan
The Alicorn Amulet is stolen from Cruelles Caballeron. It is sold to Trixie Lulamoon.

November 25, C.Y. 1002
Cruelles Caballeron: The Long Wait
Ponyville
Twilight Sparkle defeats Trixie Lulamoon in a duel
Cruelles Caballeron and Fleur de Lis recover the Alicorn Amulet

November 27, C.Y. 1002
Cruelles Caballeron: Consequences
Canterlot
Scion "Scootaloo" Beacon is murdered
Cruelles Caballeron joins the Order of Shadows

February 28, C.Y. 1004
Gulfstream: The Gears Turn
Canterlot
Princess Celestia selects Lightning Dust to represent her in the Wonderbolts Tournament

January 18, C.Y. 1005
Gulfstream: Competition, Part II
Cloudsdale
Rainbow Dash is defeated by Twilight Sparkle
Princess Luna breaks all contact with Rainbow Dash

February 2, C.Y. 1005
Gulfstream: Blood on the Wing
Cloudsdale
Rainbow Dash kills Lightning Dust in the Final Event of the Wonderbolts Tournament

February 6, C.Y. 1005
Gulfstream: A New Avenue
Canterlot
Gulfstream Dust joins the Order of Shadows as the apprentice of Fleur de Lis

February 9, C.Y. 1005
Intermission III: Between a Moon and a Nightmare
Canterlot
Princess Celestia divides Princess Luna and Nightmare Moon into two separate individuals

June 7, C.Y. 1005
Intermission IV: Hope from Tartarus
Canterlot
Cruelles Caballeron is assigned the task of finding a way to repair the Crystal Heart