> Love, And Other Felonies
>  by PatchworkPoltergeist
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> O, Holy Night
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------




Weekly Devotional of Night Chamberlain Rarity. Full Moon 8.


Please, you must understand. Once upon a time, we were not the blessed ponies we are now.

An outsider, in their shallow judgement, might have seen our fields and called us prosperous. We, in the shallows of the Unenlightened Age, once believed the same. You see, Equestria and her ponies lived in ignorance. Callow, selfish, fleeting creatures darting from day to day in accordance to whatever silly whims struck our fancy.

We lived in knots of havoc, lawless hedonists in a lawless land, and it was the disregard of our heartless ruler that allowed it. Enforced it. I would call her a spectator, but I doubt she even went through the trouble of observing. Instead, she stood back and deigned it acceptable to sip tea and eat cake while Equestrians slaved themselves to their passions, no matter how foolish, destructive, or cruel those passions might be. We were her children, and our mother abandoned us in a kitchen filled with knives, hot stoves, and poisons under the sink.

Of course, we thought nothing of it at the time. I am ashamed to admit we enjoyed ourselves and praised her for the neglect. After all, what foal doesn’t relish the thrill of sliding down a banister? What foal considers the danger of falling down the stairs and breaking their neck?

I wish I could say I never partook in this thoughtless debauchery. I cannot.

But understand, we knew no better. We knew no other way.

How could we see the truth beneath the blinding glare of Daybreaker’s sun? A merciless servant of a merciless mare, the scalding orb strung along the sky, burning and hounding Glorious Night into exile for twelve hours. Sometimes more. This prideful symbol of Daybreaker’s arrogance, existing only that she may shine brighter, bolder, bigger for any eye to see, blinded all who dared look upon it. It scorched the skin beneath our coats and forced dark glasses over our eyes.

(The details of these trying days are hazy. My dreams seem to know them, but when I’m awake, it’s a struggle to remember. That can happen with trauma; some events are too terrible to recall. But the fires—I remember those. I remember those very well.)

Our Lady, our Matron of the Night, The Mare in the Moon, our most and best beloved Nightmare Moon watched it all, miles above our heads, unjustly trapped in her millennial prison: the very moon She so loved. (Daybreaker had an awful sense of humor and a taste for irony, you see.) The crime for this sentence? A request to share a bit of light from Daybreaker’s plate. A slice of the love Daybreaker hoarded for herself.

Yet even the cruelest of tyrants can’t escape justice forever. On the longest day of the thousandth year of Her wrongful imprisonment, Nightmare Moon could no longer bear our suffering. Down thundered Our Lady from the heavens. Great clouds clasped the sun, and the thunder cracked with Her righteous fury as She cast down the wicked Daybreaker from her stolen throne.

I was there. I am one of the blessed souls fortunate enough to witness the Homecoming, though I confess that isn’t how I felt when it happened. None of us did. We didn’t understand and cowed at the lighting and thunder. We were all so frightened to be in the presence of such glory, and the sudden guilt of our thousand-year mistake crashed against us like a wave. Oh I cried so much that night

There are times when I wake up teary-eyed, without knowing or remembering exactly why. I am certain I don’t want to. Praise Her Royal Majesty, our Lady of the Moon. Praise her infinite kindness for sweeping our dreams clean of Daybreaker’s horrors. Praise the true Princess and her infallible mercy. A lesser mare might have looked upon the past millennium of heresy, hedonism, and narcissistic foolishness, and punished us as we deserved. Instead, Nightmare Moon chose generosity and gifted Equestria an everlasting night. Twenty-four hours a night, seven nights a week, twelve moons a year, we are sanctified by Her dark and jeweled sky. We may look upon the moon without fear of blindness. We see the wicked despot trapped in the very prison that kept our true Princess from us for so long, and we breathe easy.

Daybreaker can’t hurt us anymore, nor will anything else. By the glory of Our Lady and the tireless effort of the Night Guard, we are safe from dragons, from the vicious monsters of the forest, the greedy foreign powers of the griffons and the yaks, and we are safe from ourselves. Especially ourselves. We are silly little creatures, and I, chamberlain or not, am no exception.

There is no greater danger to a pony than other ponies.

I do not deserve what I have. I know this. I am blessed and cherish my position in Castle Midnight, that I may serve in the shadow of Her Majesty. If Our Lady wills it, my position may elevate in the coming years. (If I may be so bold, She seems pleased with my work. I pray this devotional may please Her, too.) Some would kill to wear my uniform.

I am grateful and I am faithful—despite my transgressions. Ponies are fallible. We all make mistakes. We all have incorrect dreams every now and then. But my heart is aligned, and that is what is important.

One warm summer night five years ago, we awakened to a marvelous new kingdom. A rightful kingdom. Nightmare Moon—most magnificent of mares, giver of stars, shepherdess of dreams—gave us safety, security of work, and governs us with a strict and steady hoof as all good mothers do. Equestria is prosperous.

The only thing She asks of us, her little ponies, is She always be first in our hearts. Her alone. Lovers cheat, parents die, children leave, but the Night will last forever. The Nightmare is always there. A little love in return is more than a fair price to pay.

Tonight, the eve of the fifth anniversary of our liberation, I remember this. I am grateful. I am devoted.

I am trying.

Please. Please, please know that I am trying my best. I’m only a pony. Everypony makes mistakes, but my Princess is always first in my heart. So may it always be.

Most exalted is our Equestria. Best beloved, our glorious Moon.








The clock struck the hour in the northern courtyard. Lieutenant Dash popped up, took a sharp gulp of air, and wiped her muzzle. “Wait, what time is it?” Her eyes darted in search of a clock; where she expected to find one in a pantry, Rarity didn’t know and didn’t care. Of all times to be punctual.

“Six.” Rarity propped herself higher on the flour sack. “And my eyes are down here, in case you forgot.” The sultry whisper petered into an impatient pout, and her ears flushed at the sound of it. Not that anypony could blame her. Two months of party arrangements (celebratory and political), managing a spotless castle, and attending to Her Majesty’s wishes, all the while the humid summer glossed the Night Guard in sweat and blew the heady scent of her… It had left the chamberlain in something of a state.

A state to be rectified. Right now.

A warm flush surged in the pit of her stomach. Rarity hooked her forehooves around Dash’s taut neck. She nipped a tempting little blue ear twitching right above her nose. “We’ve got an hour. It’s fine.”

“Are you sure?” Some amount of caution could be expected for a mare in Dash’s profession, but tonight it edged irritatingly close to paranoia.

To say nothing of other things edging irritatingly close. Rarity nuzzled the soft hollow of her throat. “Positive, Moonbow.”

The white and silver of her mane had always put the chamberlain in the mind of tarnished candlesticks and week-old snow, and it gleamed in the half-light when Dash turned from the door. Finally.

“And technically, I’m still off duty, so…” The leathery edge of her wing skimmed the length of Rarity’s thigh, up and over the cutie mark, and down again. She shrugged and smacked her lips. “Yeah, I guess I can spare a couple minutes.” Dash smirked. “If you’re that needy.”

Rarity huffed. “I do beg your pardon, but you’re the one who came sniffing around my desk looking for—”

The wing switched direction. Swept higher.

The remains of Rarity’s sentence peeped in a breathless squeak. Her knees buckled, and she dangled from the lieutenant’s neck like a winner’s garland. A second wing wrapped her withers. Clawed wingtips dug into the base of her tidy bun, plucking at the thin purple hairs.

In the backrooms of her mind, Sensible Rarity remembered that while the lieutenant had the night off, chamberlains did not, and she still had a high-profile event to attend. How did she expect to face the public in such a disheveled—

A hoof joined Dash’s busy little wing. Silver buttons scraped the dark armor. Rarity’s jaw fell, and Dash swept in to meet it in a kiss.

Sensible Rarity decided to keep her opinions to herself.







One wardrobe change, two globs of pomade, a steel currycomb, and three puffs of Nightshade No. 6 later, Night Chamberlain Rarity moved among the best and brightest stars of the Night. Second only to Winter Solstice, the Summer Sun Liberation was the highlight of the year.

A silly sort of pony might be tempted to compare it to the frivolous galas of the Unenlightened Age. The wise, of course, understood this night meant more than dancing and trifling dresses. What need had Equestria for gaudy designs in their taffetas, velvets, and sequins? Filtered and perfectly tailored for every pony, the designated dress code suited them fine. Everypony who mattered moved through the courtyard in their blacks, indigos, and violets, stark against the paler lavenders, greys, and periwinkles of their lessers.

“As a matter of fact, Commissioner, I do believe it was a Manehattanite who originally submitted the designs accepted into Her Majesty’s dress code. A Miss… Pommel, if I’m not mistaken. Which I am not.” Rarity swirled her weak cider, peering over Commissioner Gladmane’s pompadour. “Why, speak of the sun-bringer.”

There, by the buffet, a pale pink pony in an ash-grey dress arranged a plate of vittles. Where that hayseed Polomare went, her mistress couldn’t be far. “There she is.” Rarity gestured to the mare in the bob-cut chatting up Mr. Orange. Pity he hadn’t brought his niece along this time. The mare talked nothing besides business, but Rarity always welcomed a familiar face. “Rumor has it those two have a wedding date this Solstice. About time, wouldn’t you say?”

Commissioner Gladmane made a noncommittal grunt. “If you’re that curious, why don’t you ask the general? His wife’s head of Family Planning, isn’t she?” He shifted on his hooves. Bored.

Perhaps fashion had been a poor choice of subject matter. “General Windrider has far better things to do, I’m sure.” In the corner of Rarity’s eye, a familiar shade of creamy yellow cut through a crowd of commoners. Headed her way. “But speaking of wives, how is yours, Gladmane? I haven’t seen her tonight.”

“Upper Crust decided it would be best to stay home with the baby. Better not to be tempted by old mistakes.” He cast a glance toward Jet Set and his wife, Misty Fly, who blinked back at them with slitted yellow eyes. “The new arrangements still need some gettin’ used to. You understand.”

Yes, yes—please tell me all about it. Rarity saw her clearly now. The crowd gave the viceroy ample room and no space to be mistaken. Her clipped stride hadn’t slowed in the least. Rarity fluttered her eyelashes, utterly absorbed by the commissioner’s anecdotes and far too busy to speak to anypony else, thank you.

“I’m afraid that I don’t.” She smiled apologetically. “Of course, still a single mare myself, I find it somewhat difficult to understand how one could be dissatisfied with Her Majesty’s whims.”

“Oh no, I—I wouldn’t say dissatisfied, Madam Chamberlain. Not in the least.” Damn it all, she’d spooked him. It served her right for pushing too hard. “I only meant we weren’t exactly each other’s first choice. Crust already had hers, of course. Myself, I’d been hopin’ for somepony like Madame Hemline or Lady Silver.” He laughed and bent his head. “Oh, but the Night knows better, doesn’t she?”

A second Night Guard swooped to join Corporal Misty Fly. Rarity couldn’t see the eyes beneath the helmet from this distance, but she noted the lithe, sleek build and the rounded ears of a pony who hadn’t undergone permanent transformation. The Guard strove for uniformity, but a trained eye could pick them out. Corporal Fly had a clipped right ear. Lieutenant Dash liked to hover or perch instead of standing. Private Sky Stinger was the second-tallest. Lieutenant Dash had chipped hooves because she never bothered filing them. Captain Dust had a slight limp. General Windrider boasted a wider wingspan and moved slow, while Lieutenant Dash never stayed still for two seconds—there, even now, she fidgeted and—

Rarity blinked hard. Conversation. They’d been in the middle of a conversation. “Indeed. May the Night last forever.” When she looked at Gladmane again, the viceroy was behind him. She felt at her bun; tied tighter than usual, the roots pulled at her scalp. “How very fortunate we are to have a Princess to… to relieve the burdens of—”

“Chamberlain.”

Rarity clenched her teeth.

“Can I have a moment of your time, please?” Viceroy Moondancer adjusted her glasses—dreadful things with chunky frames that didn’t fit the dress code at all. (Surely a relic kept for sentimental purposes. It couldn’t be for fashionable reasons.) A flick of her red and violet tail bade Rarity to follow. She never broke her stride.

Commissioner Gladmane made a run for it the moment Rarity turned her head, the gutless coward. So much for her excuse. She nodded and fell into step. “It’s a lovely night for an execution, is it not? The stars are shining so brightly, and the moon…”

She looked up. Something in her stomach sank at the sight of Daybreaker’s silhouette. She looked down again.

“Oh,” Rarity said. Her voice stuttered. “I have no words.”

Moondancer led them to the buffet. Corporal Fly nodded her way, but she ignored it. “I know. All nights granted to us are lovely.” Levitating a fork, she stabbed a small tomato. The pale pink skin—nearly red in the moonlight—had a dull sheen. The Department of Horticulture had saved the very best of this year’s crop yield for tonight. “However, I really have to wonder how well one can appreciate Her Majesty’s art from inside the castle pantry. Call me crazy, but I don’t think it takes that long to take inventory.”

Rarity sampled a tomato for herself, chewed the hard little thing slowly, and paid no mind to the lieutenant two tables away. Nor the lazy confidence of her slouch. None at all. “What can I say, Viceroy? I like to be thorough.”

Moondancer set the fork down. “Do not treat me like one of your petty social-climber friends. I didn’t come to play games with you.” Her muzzle wrinkled as she scanned Rarity’s pristine uniform and glossy mane. Not a hair out of place. “I still have a nose.”

Lifting her chin, the chamberlain regarded her coolly. “In that case, you know what season it is. There’s no fault in scratching a summer itch; no different than a drink of water on a hot night. The way you talk, it’s as if I’d committed Heartcrime.”

Two tables away, Lieutenant Dash chuckled and ruffled the mane of a schoolfilly who stared at her with small wings and wide eyes. She’d always had a soft spot for foals. Sometimes she’d wave to them during the castle tours. Rarity twitched her ears and kept her eyes on the viceroy.

Something in Rarity’s expression must have betrayed her, because after a moment, Moondancer relaxed. “Of course you haven’t, Chamberlain Rarity. You’re a good pony. However, you’re still an official of the Court, and as such, you represent Our Lady. Daybreaker’s strongest season brings out the worst of our base urges, but that doesn’t mean we have to obey them.” Viceroy Moondancer adjusted her chunky glasses and brushed a stray hair from her black suit jacket. “Tonight is a sacred night. I want you to remember that.”

She was right. Passionate rolls in the hay were a pastime for teenagers who knew no better and had nothing better to do. An occasional fling could be understood, but there was a difference between eating a peach and sucking down an entire orchard.

Rarity’s ears wilted. She should have used tonight for gratitude and praise, not selfish entitlement. “I will, Viceroy.”

“Good.” Moondancer pointed her fork at the stage in the center of the courtyard. “Your sister’s looking for you, by the way.”

The clock read ten till the hour; not enough time to “hang out,” as Dash put it, but more than enough to catch up, at least. Sweetie Belle stood in her reserved spot at the foot of the stage, bouncing on her hooves. The moonflowers braided into her mane and tail matched the blue plaid of her Academy uniform, and petals went flying when she waved to her sister. Just in case Rarity hadn’t seen her, she got on her hinds to wave with both hooves. “Happy Liberation Night, Rarity! Look, I won a front-row spot just for us!”

“So I see! Well done, Sweetie.” Rarity gave her a side-hug—cordial, with sentiment kept to a respectful minimum—and took her place at her sister’s side. “Have you been having a good time?”

“You bet! Gosh, aren’t these seats the best? I’ve never been this close before.”

“Neither have I.” To be honest, Rarity had always been more of an opera glasses sort of pony. Her usual box seat in the balcony had a better view. Fewer distractions.

Excited murmurs of the crowd blended into the scattered whimpers and sobs just above their heads. She stole a glance at the lines of heart-traitors, sun heretics, and other miscellaneous criminals. This close, she could pick out their cutie marks. The dark hoods over their heads had been Mr. Svengallop’s idea, according to Moondancer.

“So!” Rarity looked away and cleared her throat. “So, which one is yours?” At the last minute, she remembered to smile. Proud big sisters ought to smile, which is exactly what Rarity was, so that was exactly what she did. Smiled proud and lovely.

Sweetie Belle’s little pink tongue stuck out in concentration as she squinted. “Um… gosh, it’s harder to tell with those weird bags—oh! There he is, the yellow one in the back with the skinny legs, see? You see him?”

“Yes, dear. I see him.”

“He used to run the—”

“Who he used to be doesn’t matter, Sweetie Belle.” Big catch this year. With a crowd this large, she couldn’t see his cutie mark even if she tried. And Rarity did not try. “He’s a traitor of the heart, now. That’s all. Good as nopony at all.”

“It’s not fair. I worked all year to find somepony with a Heartcrime, and then at the last second, Scootaloo goes and finds two ponies working for Sunwise. Sunwise!” Sweetie Belle stamped her little white hoof, turning to frown at the orange schoolfilly who’d been fawning over Lieutenant Dash a moment ago. “She’s been bragging about it in the dorms since last Waxing Crescent.”

The orange filly caught them looking at her and puffed her feathers. Rarity nodded graciously at her; manners by example, after all. “Come now, ladies don’t sulk. You still did your very best, right?”

“I guess so,” Sweetie sighed.

“That’s all Nightmare Moon asks. Every little bit helps.”

The clock struck seven, and struck the crowd silent.

Rarity took a breath. Held it. Let it go. Kept smiling. Thought of lovely things.

One by one, the blue lamplights dimmed and shrank. In a solid wave from back to front, the commoners and the titled noblemares, the officials and the ladder-climbers, the fearsome soldiers and the eager foals knelt until their foreheads pressed against the mosaic tile.

“Rise.” There, atop a castle spire, stood Her Royal Majesty Nightmare Moon.

Rarity’s heart thumped in her throat, and she trembled against the effort not to cry. No matter how many times she saw Her, even now, after years of personally delivering reports or turning Her linens, every time still felt like the first. Rarity couldn’t name the emotion that devastated her so. She supposed it must be love.

Clouds smothered the stars. No light now, save the one slice of moonlight from Daybreaker’s prison. The light opened and spread over Her Majesty, and upon the condemned.

Rarity’s coat bristled at the crackling scent of ozone and fire. Behind her, somepony in the thick of the crowd began to cry. For their sake, she prayed those were tears of joy.

Lightning struck the stage.

When the smoke cleared, all three rows of the condemned slumped over each other, the stage, and themselves. A pile of blackened coats and burnt tails, no different than a heap of coals.

Nightmare Moon stood center stage, and the blades of her smile shone white and whetted. “My beloved subjects, welcome to the fifth annual Summer Sun Liberation.”

The courtyard erupted in applause.
> The Night Has A Thousand Eyes
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------




	Weekly Devotional for Night Chamberlain Rarity. Waxing Crescent 9.


Our Supreme Lady of the Night is not cruel, but firm. It isn’t that she wishes us to be unhappy, only that our decisions be tempered and wise. 

Before she left again for boarding school, my sister asked me if our parents had committed Heartcrime because they’d chosen to stay together. Of course they hadn’t, and I told her so. There’s no harm in a little bit of love for our family, friends, and spouses—they, too, are part of Equestria, and we love our dearest Equestria. 

But think of love as if it were a fire. In a lantern or hearth, it has its purpose and keeps us warm, but a fire let loose with no temperance at all? Why, that could burn your house down. Worse, that fire might catch and raze the whole village.

There is a difference between affection and adoration, and the latter must be reserved for Moon, Night, and Kingdom. A moth flown into the flames burns in seconds. Moths flown towards the moon live for years. In other words, there is nothing wrong with the proper amount of love.

“How do you know what the right amount is?” my sister asked me.

“You don’t,” I told her. “You couldn’t. That’s why the Princess grants us Her wisdom instead.”

Besides, splitting up harmless pairings would be pointless; the royal stipend is meant to encourage remarriage, not enforce it.

Now, in the event that Mother and Father’s love—Moon forbid—turned treacherous, they would have received a warning. Everypony, as I have said, makes mistakes. It’s only fair we’re given the chance to correct it, as Our Lady corrects our nightmares misaligned dreams. If somepony chooses not to correct that mistake, that pony must, alas, suffer the consequences. Too little, too late, regret comes to so many of us in the shadow of our transgressions only after the light burns the shelter of our self-deceptions.

Praise the Night, everlasting in guiding our hearts toward the correct path.
 
Family aside, we can still have friends. There is no harm in a friend for company, or to extend a hoof in scratching a summer itch. Nightmare Moon wishes us to be happy, and so we are. What better choice of companion than another mare sworn to the Moon? Besides, we’ve only had a lunch here, a dinner there, and some talks.

Our Lady keeps a magnificent castle, but a relatively small staff. The halls can become lonely. As it so happened, the second lieutenant’s ground patrol overlapped with my own concierge schedule. Over time, one starts to welcome any company at all, even when said company is churlish and insists on flying indoors, despite all pleadings and insistences that she please refrain. (And then has the utter gall to call me a maid of all things! A maid indeed!)

She’s an arrogant little thing. Good at what she does, and knows it. Oh, she (usually) won’t put it on display, and she doesn’t brag (openly). After all, a Guard’s a Guard. But you can tell. If you look, you can tell.

Last waning crescent, I watched her running drills in the yard. 

She’s smallest of her squadron, light and swift, but I’ve seen the powerful roll of muscles beneath the armor. A heavyweight powerhouse, no, but I would personally argue that the sheer strength of velocity makes up for it.

She cut ahead of the crowd, nipping the corners and swooping through the barricades, the dust clouds swirling behind her. I’ve begun to mark the groundskeepers’ watering schedule by the dust she kicks up. She completely ruined my mane when she swept past the window—my fault for leaning so far out, I suppose. I couldn’t bear to look away. The grim lieutenant who patrolled halls and loomed in corridors of Castle Midnight stepped aside for this sweeping creature of rolling wings and flinty eyes sparking—

…Actually. I’m not certain of the color…raspberry? Or would that be plum? No, plum is more of a dark purple and the lieutenant’s eyes lean more pinkish. Not light or bright pink; nothing like the coat of Polomare, or that vile terrorist from the pamphlets. Hm. I used to know these things when I still studied fashion and other frivolous things. So many of the warmer sun-struck colors of the spectrum come rare within the castle, I’ve forgotten their names. Burgundy? Too dark. Let’s just say magenta.

There’s a boldness there, in her eyes and in her movement. The sort that makes captains of cadets. Why, it’s enough to almost pity Sunwise. She tackled that winged training dummy and ripped the head off, horn and all, with one strike of her hooves. Strange to know that they’re the same hooves that… well, they’re not always so fierce.

It is comforting to know what fearsome ponies serve Her Majesty. It is my personal hope Dash the second lieutenant will be granted her full transformation soon. She deserves it, and I believe it would bring her some peace. Of course, she is already eternally grateful for the armor’s enchantments. (As I understand, they’re less a transformation but more than an illusion? The leather of the wings does feel real, at least. I don’t pretend to understand the details. Magic of that caliber is only for Her Majesty to know.)

Still, the good lieutenant fidgets in her armor the way Sweetie Belle used to wear my old hats. It doesn’t quite fit without the pointed ears and nocturnal eyes. It doesn’t bother me at all, for she has the loveliest little ears, but I believe a full and permanent transformation would make her happy. A boon to my duties as well, for sharper night vision might finally stop her from tracking dirt on the carpet.

Dear me. 
I seem to have gone on something of a tangent.

The point of it is, there are moments when it behooves us to share the grace and beauty of Her Majesty’s Night with others. Was that not the intention of Everlasting Night to begin with? To bring some comfort and joy of the stars to Equestria?

A comfort, indeed, to know Her Majesty is, in return, served with great devotion and love. Another comfort to know she inspires such loyalty and vitality in her Guard. May the same be said of the rest of us, as well.

Highest exalted, our Equestria. Best beloved, our glorious Moon.




Rarity removed her reading glasses, hunched over her desk, and slowly ran her hooves over her face. “Hormones,” she whispered into her horseshoes.

The last two pages—stars save her, almost half the devotional—talked of nothing but bright eyes, strong wings, rakish smiles… no, wait, she’d actually caught herself before writing down the smile.

“It’s only hormones. Nothing else. It’ll be over when summer ends.”

True, summer only had a week left, and most estrus cycles had ended already, but the cycle was different for everypony. This one happened to last a little longer. Perfectly normal.

Nothing but simple, heedless lust. Lust would pass. It always did.

When the chamberlain lifted her head, she saw the blue (azure or cyan?) of the lieutenant’s coat in the lamp flame. She remembered the weight of wings upon her back—not when they’d rocked together in the dark, but the quiet moments afterwards. Over a year in, they still hadn’t been caught. Not directly. Rarity dared say that Dash enjoyed the challenge of sneaking about, as if it were some elaborate game of hide-and-seek.

Squeezing her eyes shut, Rarity shook herself off. Stars, mare. Some self-control, if you please!

The fact remained that she couldn’t leave the weekly devotional in such a horrid state. Rambling tangents and crossed-out sections and erroneous language everywhere, no cohesion at all. It wouldn’t do. Devotionals meant devotion to one mare and one alone.

The superfluous material went up in flames.

Alright. Time for a second draft.





“Huh. It’s a little light this time, Rarity.” Moondancer’s magic flipped through the scant pages. She wheeled her chair backwards into the archive shelves where three books levitated down into her waiting hooves. “Need some inspiration? I know some poems that always give me a boost for my devotionals whenever I need it.”

“That’s thoughtful of you, Madam Viceroy, but no thank you. I chose brevity this week. Quality over quantity, you know.”

Rarity peered over the tidy columns of scrolls, books, and letters that sprawled across Moondancer’s desk. The crisp new sheets of Ponyville’s records sat second from the top, ready to go at moonrise. She found a Pound and Pumpkin Cake among the list of citizens, current residents of Crescent Cradle Nursery/Seminary. Permanent residents, it appeared. No record of the poor dears’ parents. Foundlings, both of them, now wards of a Kingdom committed to their flourishment.

An uncooperative chamber of Rarity’s heart recalled a somepony who’d once given her free cupcakes on her birthday, and always added an extra donut just for her when Rarity fetched bagels for her old boss. He’d been tall, with a blocky chin and a kind smile.

But her mind knew better, for there had never been such a pony. Not today, not yesterday, not tomorrow.

Rarity shook her head. Ponyville was none of her concern. “Viceroy, are these ready to be delivered?”

Moondancer had a poor habit of falling so deep into the rhythm of her work that she forgot everything else. More than once, she’d been tardy with her work. All well and good for her; Nightmare Moon’s favorite could do sun salutations in the throne room and get away with it. Tardy chamberlains afforded no such liberties, good excuse or not.

“Yes, take them. The other materials for tonight, too.” Moondancer’s magic rolled up the refurbished records for Ponyville, Appleloosa, and Cloudsdale and passed them into Rarity’s aura. “These are for the mailroom, but deliver the document on top to the courier personally. It’s sensitive.”

“Of course, Viceroy.”

All but the top document slipped into a waiting satchel. Rarity carried the last one herself: a jet black scroll tied in blue ribbon and addressed with the seal of King Sombra of the Crystal North. The icy scent of Her Majesty’s magic prickled the fur on her neck. Faint green traces of the King’s magic traced the edges, and the scroll wobbled in Rarity’s hornlight.

Ignoring the pulsing throb at the base of her horn, Rarity stepped back into the hall. Murmuring voices echoed down the east corridor, headed by the chipper tones of the Flim Flam Brothers. The tour schedule must have shifted again. With no time to lose—and no time to nurse a migraine—it’d be best to avoid the hallways entirely.

Rarity counted tiles until she found the fifth one past the seventeenth torch. After a quick check for roaming eyes, she stomped the tile. The stone separated to reveal a pathway hidden within the castle walls. Rarity wrinkled her nose at the moss growing in the old stone as she trotted up the sloping path, and made a mental note to contact the mason about it.

A kick to another tile, and Rarity emerged at the top of the stairwell outside Courier Fleetfoot’s office. She pulled the door handle, twitched her ears, and frowned. The Royal Courier worked and lived in a former bell tower, and she often complained of the bats and nightjars that roosted there.

Rarity cracked the door, listening for little squeaks and the flapping of wings outside. Nothing. Quiet as a crypt.

No sign of activity in the stairwell, either. Did the Guard do regular patrols here? She couldn’t remember. The door creaked open, and Rarity stepped inside.

A white unicorn stood there. His blue mane—shaggier than the dress code permitted—matched the courier uniform. “Oh! Hi there.” He had the warm voice of a camp counselor, but stood like a sergeant. “I’m one of the newbies with dispatch. Need something delivered? I can take that right off your hooves. Or horn. Whatever.” He laughed at his little joke and smiled at her.

Rarity did not smile back.

Officials of the courier office wore three stripes. He had two, and with the colors in the wrong order.

The door shut behind her.

She noticed something white and fluffy poking out from behind a bulging curtain. A tail. Fleetfoot’s tail. When Rarity brought her eyes up again, the stallion’s blue gaze locked onto hers. He’d lit his horn, and the lanterns cast long shadows over her as he closed the distance between them.

Behind her, a lock clicked. Rarity found herself backed against a shut door.

“Don’t scream. I won’t hurt you.” Which was what ponies always said before slitting your throat. “Just let me see what you’ve got there real quick.”

Rarity snatched the scroll in her teeth and ran. The stallion darted forward, but she faked right and doubled back, scrambling under his legs.

She glanced about the room. The door? No. He’d outrun her in the stairwell, or catch her fleeing into the passageway and give chase there, where nopony could hear them. That left just one option. Rarity shoved a file cabinet, and it fell with a crash. 

In the seconds it took the assailant to shove it aside, she took a running leap out the window.

The stallion gasped behind her. “Sweet Celestia, no!”

Rarity landed hard on a tower ledge. She pressed against the cold stone, panting hard. That word. Moon save her, ponies had been flogged just for hearing that word. None dared write it, none dared speak it, save one group: Sunwise.

Above her, the terrorist gaped from the window. The fool. He may have managed to sneak his way into the castle, but Chamberlain Rarity had overseen Castle Midnight for years. She knew all its secrets and pathways.

Now, only a small matter of pulling the gargoyle head, and—

The gargoyle didn’t move.

Rarity tugged harder. The gargoyle’s horn broke off. …Or perhaps she’d been thinking of the southern bell tower. Oh, dear.

Light poured from windows below, but without a rope, she couldn’t reach it. Above, the Sunwise agent crouched on the windowsill. A dagger floated in his magical field, aimed straight at Rarity’s throat. He narrowed his eyes. “I’ll do it,” his face said.

But Rarity had seen killers before. No. I don’t think you will. She spat the scroll into her hoof. “GUARDS! Guards, Sunwise in the courier tower!”

A great swell of bats rose from the base of the tower, streaming into the night. From the opposite direction, a clutch of Night Guards swerved through the cloud of bats, arrowing into the window. More flooded through the side entrances below her.

One of the smaller Guards hovered a moment, blinking at her with wide magenta eyes. “Whoa, is that you, Chamberlain? Are you okay?”

“I am, but watch out. He’s armed.”

Moonbow’s teeth flashed in a grim smile. “So am I.”

“Oh, first could you help—” Wind rushed past Rarity’s ears as the guard vanished through the window. “—me down from here?” She smoothed the strands of tousled mane back into her bun. A breeze blew them loose two seconds later. “Or not.”

Inside, the commotion raged, then quieted as it retreated deeper into the tower. Wobbling, Rarity tried rearing on her hind legs to reach the windowsill. The world swayed under her. Balancing on two legs had been much easier when she wasn’t stuck seven stories from the ground. She couldn’t reach it anyway without a running leap.

The document passed back into her magical field as she shifted down to four legs. “Hello? Is anypony up there?”

A blue hoof reached down and pulled her up.

“Finally! Better late than never, but for goodness’ sake, it’s freezing out—” Rarity found herself nose to nose with Fleetfoot. “—there. Ah, Courier Fleetfoot. Alive and well, I presume?”

The courier groaned and rubbed the back of her head with her wing. “Ugh. Alive at least, Chamberlain.”

“Can you still fly?”

“Always.”

“Good.” Rarity secured Her Majesty’s scroll—slightly tooth marked, but no harm done—into Fleetfoot’s bag. “Crystal Empire, on the double. Go!”

The moment Fleetfoot jumped into the air, Rarity pivoted and rushed down the stairwell. A Night Guard slumped motionless against the wall, midway down the stairs. Still breathing.  Badly hurt.  Too heavy to carry. Two more guards sprawled facedown at the foot of the stairs. Rarity swallowed hard; perhaps she’d misjudged the Sunwise unicorn before. 

She stepped over the guards and into a hallway in minor chaos. 

Living shadows slithered up and over the walls, blotting out torchlight as they passed, hissing and whispering to each other. One of them dripped down from the ceiling—a wriggling oil leak of a creature—and pooled over the carpet. Like wax melting in reverse, it rose from the floor to become a solid pegasus, dark grey and dressed throat to hoof in black and blue. Glowing yellow eyes blinked once before it flew to join the writhing black mass of its brethren.

Beneath them, the unicorn from Sunwise convulsed. Wide blue eyes rolled in their sockets as his head arched backwards, trying to scream through a mouth full of wriggling shadows.

Shadowbolts. A whole pack of them, with more arriving by the second. Rarity shrank from the walls and shifted into a quick trot.

A magic-scorched helmet sat in the middle of the hall. Several feet away, in a darkening spot on the carpet, Lieutenant Moonbow Dash struggled to find her hooves. A familiar dagger stuck out from under her armor, and red splattered through her short white mane. Still alive, thank goodness, but—

Night Chamberlain Rarity. A Shadowbolt watched her with empty sockets full of moonlight. Its voice scraped through Rarity’s mind, tangling through her bloodstream. Castle Midnight stands at high alert. Please retreat to your private chambers. You may resume duty momentarily.

“O-oh. Yes, yes of course. I’m just on my way now, but I wanted to mention the injured ponies I found on the stairwell. They may need attention.” Beyond the Shadowbolt’s wispy mane, Moonbow wobbled on three legs, leaning hard on the servant escorting her to the infirmary. At least Rarity hoped it was the infirmary. “Do tell me when it’s safe to come out, would you? I’d hate to fall behind with my duties.”





Déjà vu, the Prench called it: the uncanny sensation that one had experienced something before. Impossible, of course. Rarity hadn’t spoken to Lieutenant Dash until she began patrolling the castle roughly two years ago, and she hadn’t known her… closely until a year after that.

Yet tonight, as Rarity observed the young second lieutenant grumble to herself while she perused a novel, it brought to mind another image of Dash in a hospital bed. Same pose, same bandages strapped around her head, but with a longer mane plastered on the pillowcase. It never happened, but the image burned deeper than memories of the mushrooms she’d had for lunch. The leftovers of a dream, perhaps. (Goodness, was she appearing in her dreams, now? Stars save her.)

She cleared her throat. “I never took you for a reader, Lieutenant.”

Dash rolled her shoulder with a huff. “I’m not.” Her mild sneer curled to reveal a missing tooth. Freshly lost, probably; Her Majesty didn’t approve of a scraggly guard. Pity. The rakish look suited her. “The last guy left it under the bed, and I figured I’d take a look. It’s not like there’s anything else to do down here.” She gestured to the rows of empty beds lining the infirmary. A barren place, save for the moon sigils and the sorry vase of evening primrose wilting in the corner. Dash tossed the battered paperback between her hooves and shrugged. “Beats being dead, I guess.”

“I can’t disagree, Lieutenant Dash.” Rarity passed through the lines of empty beds, frowning at their untouched sheets. “I saw the guards on the stairs. Am I to understand that they didn’t make it?”

“Stinger just got knocked out; I think he went back to work. I guess Rider got the others to walk off whatever they got hit with.” She flicked an ear. “Kicker’s dead, though.”

“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It happens.” The pages fanned back and forth under Dash’s chin. “We’ve got backups to replace her, don’t worry.” Before Rarity could explain that wasn’t what she’d meant, Moonbow’s eye snapped up from the book. “Shouldn’t you be working right now, Chamberlain?”

The title had a clipped, testy edge to it, and Rarity couldn’t say that she approved. “No, my shift ended early in regard for my troubling experience tonight. Not helped in the slightest by being stranded on a ledge in the bitter cold, and I without my coat.” The adrenaline had kept her fairly warm, but that wasn’t the point.

“I dunno if you noticed, but I kind of had my hooves full taking down an enemy of the Kingdom and trying to keep my guts from spilling out.” Dash raised an eyebrow. “Besides, you said you were fine. It’s not like somepony didn’t come get you eventually, right?”

“I—well yes, but it still...” Rarity smoothed her lapels and cleared her throat.

What in Equestria had she expected? One paltry, disposable chamberlain took sixteenth priority against terrorist espionage. Expecting anything less would be absurd. A mare-at-arms had no time for dashing rescues or sweeping ponies off their feet or whatever foalish fantasy the silly part of her brain had cooked up. Such trifles should have been left in the past with sunflowers and straw hats. It served her right.

It would have been smarter to ignore Rarity on the ledge altogether, but if Dash had taken the time to check on her, then she could have done... well, something besides just taking off. It was a stupid little thing to fuss about, and Rarity knew it, but now had to clamber out of the hole she’d dug for herself.

“It still was… rude,” she finished. Rarity tucked a stray hair into her bun and smoothed her lapels again. “However, I understand you still had a job to do, and as you so bluntly pointed out, so do I. Perhaps I ought to return to it.”

Dash’s hoof caught her shoulder. “Wait. No, I didn’t mean it to come out like that. It’s just that my ribs are killing me and my head’s been all—look, can we start over?” She set the book down and pushed herself up higher. “Hi, Rarity. Nice night isn’t it? I mean, aside from the whole getting-attacked-by-terrorists thing.”

“Hello, Moonbow.” It felt odd using the name outside an intimate liaison. Odd, but nice. “Yes, it’s a fine night. A bit chilly, perhaps, but I can’t complain.”

“You literally just complained about it five minutes ago.”

Rarity waved her off.

“I’m glad you’re okay.” Dash frowned, looking her over. “You are okay, right? It’s hard to tell with you, sometimes.”

“I am, thank you. I wish I could say the same for you.” Rarity’s magic felt at the white tufts of mane poking out from the bandages. In the bright lights of the infirmary, Dash’s bangs weren’t pure white, but a diluted shade of pink. Not unlike a seashell.

“What, this?” Dash tapped her bandaged ribs and repressed a flinch. “Nah, this is nothing. You should’ve seen the other guy.”

“I did. He’s in the dungeon now, and not a minute too soon. To think of what that vicious sunchasing brute almost did to… er, the sanctity of our kingdom, why it’s…” Rarity dared a glance at Moonbow’s face.

The lieutenant grinned. She didn’t have to be so smug about it. “The kingdom, huh?”

“Yes, our beloved kingdom. I saw the dagger in your armor, and feared the worst.” Blue-white flames flickered in their sconces, the shadows around them stark and wriggling. Only shadows, or…? “You’re a valued asset to the Kingdom of Night. I would hate for Equestria to lose one of its best talents.”

Dash followed Rarity’s gaze. “They’re not down here. Heck, they’re not even in the castle most nights unless it’s a special occasion. Usually they’re out scouting the rest of Equestria. The worst thing that happens down here is a gross infection.” She leaned forward and propped her chin on her knees, inches from the chamberlain’s nose. “So, what’s that you were saying about Equestria’s best talent?”

“A simple fact, that’s all. You were among the first on the scene, and all the way from the southeast halls. I don’t think even Lightning Dust is that fast. You’re skilled, I don’t deny that.” Rarity swallowed a smirk at the self-satisfaction spreading across Dash’s face. The blowhard. “You’re also absolutely incorrigible.”

“Thanks!”

“That was not a compliment, lieutenant.”

Dash’s grin grew toothy. “Then why’d you say it like one?”

“Because you’ve hurt your head and are clearly hearing things.”

Moonbow laughed at that. Sultry chuckles notwithstanding, Rarity had never heard her laugh before. The raspy sound popped and crackled like a campfire, and it squeaked in places. Perhaps it had gotten rusty. “It’s my job to be fast, though. You’re the one who climbed out a window with Sunwise on your tail.”

“Jumped, actually,” Rarity said. “I thought the courier tower was the one with the secret slide, but—”

“Whoa, back up. You jumped out of a window? As in, the old bell tower’s eighty-foot high window?” She made the ember-pop laugh again. “Sheesh, Rarity! No wonder you got the night off.”

“I didn’t have much choice at the time.” An eighty-foot drop or a quick slash across the throat couldn’t compare to the consequences of losing Nightmare Moon’s royal correspondence. Blessed in Her mercy, whatever punishment she’d have received would be no less than what she deserved. 

Something blue twitched behind Moonbow’s back as she leaned forward with her chin on her knees. Now with room to breathe, her wings twitched and arched just above the line of bandages.

“Ooh, are those your real ones?”

Dash clapped her wings shut and backed against the pillow.

“Oh! Oh no, I’m sorry, I just wanted to look.” Rarity stretched her neck, trying to see the feathers fluffing under the blanket. “Would it be alright if I could see them?”

“Well. Okay, but…” The left wing unfurled slowly, and Moonbow’s gaze flicked to and away from it while the right shuffled, still pinned to her back. “They’re not like my Guard wings.” She said it like an apology.

“I know.” Rarity’s magic grazed the ragged edges of the primary feathers, and she noted several gaps in the plumage. She remembered something about pegasi going through molt; it would explain why the rest of her feathers didn’t have much sheen to them. “My, I haven’t seen feathered wings since I lived in Ponyville.”

Dash tensed as another wave of magic rippled through her feathers. “Careful, those are kinda sensitive, and I’m not exactly in the shape to...” A thought seemed to occur to her. “Sorry if you wasted a trip.”

“That isn’t why I came here.” The thought hadn’t occurred to her until Moonbow mentioned it. So much for the estrus excuse.

“I was afraid you’d say that,” Dash sighed. The wings drooped, and those lovely eyes pinched in a squint. “Kinda wish you hadn’t.”

An awful prospect dropped in the pit of Rarity’s stomach. Something she should have considered months ago. Armored or not, Lieutenant Dash still remained a Night Guard, and the Guard had its duty. She remembered reports last year of the clandestine affair between a magistrate and his gardener. Five months in, the gardener reported him for Heartcrime. Lady Flower Wishes lived quite handsomely these days.

Rarity stepped back, wondering how fast she could spin a last-minute alibi. “And why is that?”

“Because I don’t really want you to go.” Dash looked away and rubbed the back of her neck. “But I also don’t want to get you in trouble.”

“Trouble for what?” Rarity took a breath and allowed herself a coy little smile. “There’s no harm in attending to a guard or thanking them for exemplary service.” She settled on the edge of the bed, a thin island of blanket between their hooves.

Every feather fluffed at once. Dash glanced at Rarity’s hoof, then Rarity’s face, then her hoof again. “Yeah, I—” Coughing into her hoof, she casually leaned against the pillow. As casually as one could lean with a blue powderpuff on their back. “I guess that’s true.”

It would be rude to laugh; the dear tried so hard. She probably wouldn’t like being called cute, either. “Of course it is. We’re professionals, after all.”

“Hey, didn’t you say you used to live in Ponyville?” Dash’s mouth scrunched in thought. “Yeah! Yeah, you brought your kid sister to Cheerilee’s schoolhouse and used to hang around the old Buttonbelle place. And you always stopped by Sugarcube Corner in the morning for donuts, right?”

“Not for myself, but yes.” At the crack of dawn before the store opened, otherwise Buttonbelle would rail for the rest of the day. Strange to remember her before she’d changed her name to the more cosmopolitan “Polomare”. 

“Thought so. You had different hair, then.”

“I did.” Rarity dared say Moonbow remembered more about her than she did herself. Memories from before the Final Sunset were few and faded these nights. Vague feelings and wisps of sensations. A dream. “I’m sorry, but I can’t recall anything about you at all, Dash.”

“Not surprised. Back then, I never talked to many ponies besides the weather crew. I’ve got a pretty good memory though, and you see a lot from the sky. I oughta show you sometime. The view ten miles up? A-maze-ing!”

Personally, Rarity’d had quite enough high-rise adventures for the year. Pointing it out didn’t seem worth blowing the wind out of Dash’s wings, though. “Well, bless the Night we finally had the opportunity to get to know one another, then.”

“Yeah. You’re actually pretty cool, Rarity.” She grinned and flicked her tail under the covers. “Even if you are a giant tease.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, Lieutenant.” Rarity investigated her hoof polish in the firelight. “Besides, you started it, winking that way at ponies in the hall when they’re innocently trying to work. Shame on you.”

“That wasn’t a sexy wink, that was a Look-How-Awesome-I-Am wink. There’s a huge difference.”

“In other words,” said Rarity, “you have no inkling what a sexy wink is supposed to look like, because for your information, that was the exact definition of a sexy wink. You winked. We had sex. Therefore: a sexy wink.” She propped her back on Dash’s knees and tipped her nose in the air. “That’s that.”

“Yeah, well.” Dash ran her tongue along the edge of her teeth. “At least I did it with my face.”

Rarity drew back with a gasp. “I—you—in-INCORRIGIBLE!”

“Thanks!” She laughed until she flinched from her wounds. 

Both hooves behind her head, Dash rested against the headboard with a sigh. She moved her legs to offer more room on the bed, and watched Rarity pretend not to look at her while she settled. An empty food tray sat on a nearby end table. Dash wrinkled her nose at it. 

“Say, do you think you could sneak me something from the kitchens later? I dunno what they feed chamberlains and stuff, but whatever it is has gotta be better than beans, oats, and moss.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Rarity told her, “but no promises.”

“What I could really go for is a good old-fashioned cupcake. Remember cupcakes?”

“Mm, yes.” Rarity draped over Moonbow’s knee. “And eclairs, petit fours, and gâteau. Oh, how I miss gâteau.” She’d only had it once on a trip to Canterlot, and promised herself to be back someday to buy more. Another hallmark of the Unenlightened Age’s decadence, she supposed.

“I know there’s not much room for cupcakes, what with the rations and all…” Dash rubbed her chin. “But you don’t need grain for chocolate, right? I bet Sugarcube Corner still has fudge or ice cream.” She practically melted at the memory. “Man, Mr. Cake made the best fudge.”

The air sucked out of the room, dreams of gâteau and donuts at dawn with it. Rarity pulled her legs up and curled in a bed too small for two ponies. Studying the blanket’s thread count, she said, “I believe you must be mistaken, Lieutenant Dash. There’s never been a pony by that name.”

Dash pricked her ears. She frowned. “Oh.” A moment of stillness, then she slumped. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess so.”

The quiet roared in Rarity’s ears. They had to keep talking. About something. Anything. “How is that novel of yours, by the way?”

“Actually, I don’t know yet. I never really got past the first couple sentences.” Dash picked up the paperback by the front cover. The Colt in Crimson: A Shadow Spade Mystery.

“I think I’d like to hear it. We could find out how it is together.” She reached up to bap Dash’s elbow. “Don’t hold it like that, you’ll hurt the binding.”

Dash thought about it. “That could work. Between the two of us, there’s a better chance at least one of us will like it. M’kay, let’s see: ‘She walked through the night like a burnt-out street sign through the Coltifornian smog—two letters left, flickerin’ like Horse code—hollow eyes that ran straight through Tartarus and into my old husk of a heart. Hocks from here to Cloudsdale. A smile full of hope, with a rolodex of broken promises. One look and I knew: the dame was trouble.’ …How does somepony walk like a burned street sign?”

“It’s a metaphor, dear, don’t worry about it.”

“If you say so.” Moonbow shrugged and went on to describe the hiss of rain on the pavement on a dark humid night.

Nighttime, even in novels. Rarity sighed.

The Night was not just forever, the Night was everywhere. The Night was always. When she woke, while she worked, and as she dreamed. In her deeds, her thoughts, her words, her books. She inhaled moon and exhaled stars, and they burned in her chest from being there so long. Rarity could not deny The Everlasting Night's beauty, but oh, how it smothered.

“‘Sorry doll face,’ I tell her, ‘That’s not my bag, you’re barkin’ up the wrong tree. Find somepony else for your little escapade. I’ve got a date with a bottle of cider.’” Dash sighed. “Had to mention cider, didn’t they?” 

But here, in a tawdry little bed in a lost quiet corner of the castle, she could take some air. Just a little. Rarity let her head rest in the crook of Dash's wing. “I’ve been so tired,” she said.

Moonbow yawned, the primary feathers stretching and flexing the way Rarity’s cat used to do with her paws. “Yeah, I heard that. I’m gonna hit the hay myself after these last couple pages, but you can go on to sleep if you wanna. It’s like, what, almost Second Midnight?”

Not precisely what Rarity meant, but not wrong either. “Close to it, yes.” And she’d set her alarm for six hundred hours. She should have gone to sleep hours ago. “Pleasant dreams, Moonbow. I’ll visit you later tonight.” 

Rarity rose from the bed and kissed her. A flickering little thing on the side of her temple, just below the bandage. A kiss not meant to go anywhere, but to stay a while and keep her warm.

Dash twitched her ears and blinked in surprise. Slowly, a lopsided grin tilted on the side of her face. “Yeah, I’d like that.” She felt at the soft feathering of Rarity’s fetlocks in the frog of her hoof until it drew away completely. “Later.”

Midway down the hallway to her chambers, Rarity realized what she had done. What they both had done, and without even the excuse of an afterglow. But a peck on the cheek didn’t count as eternal devotion. Nothing wrong with affection in moderation.

Moonbow made her happy, that’s all. Her Royal Majesty loved her subjects; she only wanted them to be happy. 

It was not a crime to be happy.





The card arrived with a modest breakfast of toasted mushrooms and oatmeal. A glass of orange juice sat to the side—the real thing, not the watered-down drink served at cuteceñeras and graduations. Rarity hadn’t seen a full glass of real orange juice since Ms. Applejack rolled in with her cart full of bribes and insider trading.

Bribery, Rarity suspected, was the agenda for today. Nopony requested an office visit without at least two weeks’ notice, and the card had arrived only this eventide. Eight hours before the appointment, plus change.

The carriage rumbled across the stone bridge bordering the Everfree Forest. Rarity took a moment to observe the waning gibbous through the claws of the pines. The card rotated in the glow of her magic. Again, she examined the embossed pink lettering on crisp baby blue paper.


Night Chamberlain Rarity’s presence is requested at:



THE EQUESTRIAN BUREAU
OF FAMILY PLANNING.


	1st Midnight, Waning Gibbous 10.



	Mandatory.


No further instructions, no manner of dress, no materials or arrangements for an entourage. Not even a mention of who Rarity would meet. She supposed it would be the current commissary, but with the constant revolving door of Bureau officials, that didn’t narrow it down. Only the head geneticist—a Mr. Time Turner, former town eccentric-slash-“scientist”—had stayed constant since the Bureau’s inception.

For whatever reason, burnout for matchmakers ran high. Defection, as well. “A petri dish of degeneracy and insurgence,” Moondancer once called it. Rarity merely called it a waste of a lunch break. The second lieutenant would simply have to wait until tonight to get her bagel.

In the window, the trees and dirt gave way to towers and cobblestone. Ponyville’s starlit streets rolled past in an assembly line of brick, stone, and iron. After the dragon attacks three years prior—the conflict that had earned Dash her rank, as Rarity recalled—the town eschewed the traditional thatched cottages in favor of sturdier, finer architecture. With half the place burned to cinders, a fresh rebuild only made sense.

If anything, Ponyville resembled a cozier Old Canterlot—the sections unspoken for by crop research and farming efforts, anyhow. A funny thing. All night, Rarity dreaded the ghosts of her old hometown, and yet, as with all ghosts, there had been nothing to fear at all. Save for the name, the river, and the apple farm to the south, nothing of the Ponyville she’d known remained. Thus, nothing to be missed.

Two blocks from Magistrate Heartstrings’ villa, the arabesques and heart iconography of the Bureau of Family Planning welcomed her. A personal escort of matchmakers swarmed Rarity two steps out of the carriage, armed with complimentary rose petals and compliments for what the chamberlain had done with her mane.

“That’s kind of you to say.” Manestyle Number Twelve was standard for mares of Rarity’s rank, but the eager little things sounded so genuine, she couldn’t bring herself to correct them. They lacked both the wide-eyed awe of novices and the hunger of sycophants, with no real reason to fawn over her this way. Surely they had work of their own to do. Rarity didn’t quite know what to make of it. They followed her from the door to the elevator to the hallway.

By the time she finally reached the commissary’s office, the five-minute trip felt like an hour. The place smelled of lavender and disinfectant, a cross between a hospital and a perfumery. Rarity knocked on the open door. “You wished to see me, Commissary…” She glanced at the door’s fresh name place. “…Spoiled Wind?”

Small portraits of General Wind Rider and the commissary’s daughter hung below a massive banner of the Moon behind the desk. A purple up-do bobbed behind a metropolis of paperwork and coffee cups. “Ah, yes, Night Chamberlain Rarity. Right on time, good.” A pink hoof slid an envelope through columns of paperwork and tapped it. “That is yours. Sorry to drag you all the way out here, but after last week’s incident we can’t be too careful with official documents. Oh, and congratulations on the union.” 

Rarity blinked at the black envelope. White, blue, and violet striped the corners. Four blue diamonds of her cutie mark sealed it shut. No doubt of it, this belonged to her, but… “I don’t understand.”

Pen scratched along parchment. Commissary Spoiled stamped it, filed it in an ivy-covered mail desk, and swigged the rest of her cappuccino. “Opening it helps.”

Gently, Rarity cracked the seal, unfolded the paper, and scanned the contents. She frowned. Rarity read it again:


“…the Grand Authority of H.R.M. Princess Nightmare Moon


	& The Equestrian Bureau of Family Planning


	hereby certifies Night Chamberlain Rarity, formerly of Ponyville


	& Prince Blueblood VIII, of New Canterlot to be Joined in Lawful Wedlock upon the date of Full Moon 12 (Honey)”


Rarity stared at it, wondering if bureaucrats had a taste for pranks. “There must be some mistake, Commissary.”

“Oh?” Spoiled Wind took it back, flipped it to see the rainbow of colored stamps that lined the opposite side, then gave it back. “No, everything’s in order. The Bureau does not make mistakes, Chamberlain. We have the best matchmakers and geneticists in the Kingdom. The pair is ideal.”

“But he’s a—”

“Prince, yes. Quite a match. It will be the highlight of the Solstice Nuptial; center stage, I expect.” The commissary’s pen dipped into a fresh jar of ink. “You’re a very lucky mare.”

“I suppose I am.”

“Yet here you are, still in my office.” She sighed hard enough to ruffle the stack of certificates. “Do you wish to file a complaint?”

Rarity thought about it. “Would that do anything?”

“Waste my time and yours.”

“Don’t misunderstand, it’s not that I’m ungrateful, but I…” This was happening. This was really happening. Rarity swept her hoof over her mouth. Shaken awe was still an appropriate response, was it not? She didn’t think she could manage a smile. “I-I thought I still had more time before marriage.”

The commissary shook her head. “So did we all. It’s not as bad as it sounds. The first year is the worst, but it gets easier. You just need to give it a chance, meet him halfway. You’re compatible in more than genetics, you know.” Her spiel rose from behind the paper towers with that special brand of controlled optimism from reciting a script fifty times a week.

Rarity frowned. “Did it get easier for you?”

The pen stopped. “They’re not worth it, Chamberlain. It’s better to try and put them out of your mind sooner than later.”

“Who do you mean by ‘they’?” Rarity’s envelope slipped into her breast pocket, next to the spare feather she’d found in her mane.

“Good answer. Keeps me from filing a second report.”

“...Is it really that obvious?” How many others could tell?

The commissary hummed to herself. “No, actually. You hide it well. But we’re matchmakers here; we have a nose for it. I’m sure you noticed everypony sniffing at your heels on the way in.” She leaned back in her chair, far enough for Rarity to see the bags under her eyes. “Whoever they are, I hope you haven’t been together long. It’s a lot harder the other way around.”
> A Shot at the Night
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Well.” Dash gnawed the inside of her lip. Air drew in, then out. She squinted against the pain in her ribs—enough to keep her from active duty, but not castle patrols. “Can’t say I’m surprised. Rumor around the barracks is She wants ponies to marry younger, so it’s mostly gonna be mares our age at Solstice.”

“Hm. I don’t see you wielding any proposals,” Rarity said.

“I’m not in the right job for foals. Not until I’m grounded for good, or promoted high enough for a desk job.” Moonbow propped herself up against the wall to stretch her bat wings. One came down to wrap around the unicorn’s withers. “Do you remember where we were?”

Rarity’s magic fetched the novel from behind a lamp, and she curled against the armor. Colder than fur and feathers, but it would do. Coils of hair ran over Dash’s lap in shiny violet streaks. “Chapter twenty-eight, I believe. Shadow Spade just found the Griffonstone double-agent in the diner.”








	Weekly Devotional Confessional


	Personal Log for Night Chamberlain Rarity. 


	Waning Gibbous 11.


Last night, I dreamt I had wings.

Not soft feathered pegasus wings, and not strong leathered bat wings. They’d been tapered, delicate things of gossamer and morning dew. Wings not of the gentle moth who shies beneath the moon, but like those of a butterfly—one of those poor extinct creatures too weak to survive the chill of Everlasting Night.

I had nothing to fear on that front. The sun was out.

My wings boasted vulgar, garish colors in the vivid hues that respectable ponies don’t dare flaunt anymore. My outfit, wilder still. The makeup was positively clownish.

And yet I’d no idea how absurd I appeared, for I had become overwhelmed and consumed and entirely besotted with the love of myself. Vain and self-absorbed, I soaked in the cheers and applause of my adoring public as a flower soaks in the sun, and sunlight is what I craved.

The sun warmed my coat until sweat oozed from my pores to soak the ghastly fabrics I’d draped over myself. Shameless, greedy, drunk and heedless in a stupor, I soared higher, higher, higher towards the sun.

And then my wings burned to ash.

I fell.

This is typical of most dreams of the sun: a textbook case of Daybreaker’s false egotism and false promises, the danger of untempered passions. A normal, if not upsetting, bad dream.

This is where I should have woken in a sweat, but.

I didn’t.

The dream kept going. I kept falling. I never hit the ground.

Not because I woke up first, but because she is there. She’s caught me in freefall, and the sky is the color of her coat, and the sky…. Oh, the sky, the sky goes on forever.

In the back of my mind, I know that somehow, in the process of putting myself in this absurd position, I’ve hurt her in some way. (In the light of moon and stars, I can’t recall the hows and whys of it. We competed for the same goal, wanted the same ideals… something. I don’t know. I know I hurt her. I hated that more than the falling.)

I’d been warned what would happen if I strayed too close to the sun. I’d been warned quite clearly. I can’t claim ignorance, and I cannot claim naivety. I knew. I just didn’t care.

This is the part when I ought to recant. I couldn’t ask for a clearer wake-up call—it’s a surefire sign to stop what I’m doing and turn the wagon around.

But it isn’t. Because in the seconds before she snatches me from the air—the breathless second before I wake up and I’m so close to the ground I can smell grass—I see the sky again. 

The sky is a rainbow.







“He’s a stubborn one, I’ll give him that. A lesser stallion would’ve cracked weeks ago. As of now, we know he’s a former guard of Daybreaker’s regime, and a current stalwart of the insurgence group known as Sunwise.” General Wind Rider’s gravelly voice echoed through the throne room. He gesticulated with his wide leathered wings and stood with an easy confidence.

Few ponies could say the same, especially not in the middle of a disappointing report. If he’d come with exceptional news, he probably would have led with it. Rider, however, had flown with the Wonderbolts for years, and his lingering showmanship dovetailed Nightmare Moon’s taste for drama. He knew how to bide time without pushing his luck.

“However, we now have reason to believe that not only does he rank high within the organization, but he is also romantically involved with Mi Amore Cadenza herself. He calls her ‘Cadance’.”

A pair of blue eyes gleamed in the dark. Before one’s eyes adjusted to the well of shadows cast by the gas lamps, it appeared as if the general spoke to an empty throne. If Chamberlain Rarity focused her attention on the growing catalog of arrangements for King Sombra’s visit this winter and her mind on her work—

In the corner of her eye, Captain Dust and Lieutenant Dash stood at attention in the alcoves. The second lieutenant’s eye wandered to meet hers. 

—And if she kept her mind on her work, Rarity could almost pretend Wind Rider was only rehearsing his report. Almost.

However, the leaden atmosphere, the cloud of stars undulating in the blackness— “I presume you’ve more for me than a nickname and a recitation of what I already know.” —and the thrum of Her voice proved harder to ignore.

Moondancer sat in her designated spot at the foot of the throne, transcribing the affair.

“You presume correctly, Majesty.” The general had a smile in his voice. “We now have a motive. Corporal Fly found this on him.” He produced a locket from his jacket. “The matching half of the photograph inside belonged to that librarian in Canterlot. She was his sister.”

“So it’s revenge.”

Wind Rider chuckled. “What else?” If he hadn’t gone into the armed forces, the general might have made an excellent storyteller. His voice droned on at a clip: easy to fall into, but easier to ignore.

Rarity let his voice fade into the background chorus of rain, shuffling wings, and the steady hiss of gas lamps. As well she should. Eavesdropping was a positively filthy habit; Her Majesty or Her courtiers would deign to inform her of the information she needed to know. No more, and no less. The stuff of politicking and royal maneuverings fell to viceroys, viscounts, and baronets. Chamberlains minded their own business.

Her eyes fell upon the rust-colored stains on the general’s battle shoes. One did not stick their nose where it didn’t belong, lest they wanted it cut off. Rarity made a note to have the carpet cleaned and reupholstered. Perhaps that could also be done with the tapestries; they needed attention as well, didn’t they? She turned to check.

“Rarity.”

The word froze her.

When she turned, she discovered that Wind Rider had gone. Night Guards loomed nigh-invisible in the shadows of the alcoves, and Moondancer lay so still and silent that she may as well have been carved from marble. For all intents and purposes, they were alone.

Billowing nebulae licked the edge of the throne, reflecting constellations across Rarity’s silver buttons as she approached. Rarity bowed her head and knelt. The tip of her horn grazed the throne’s base, and chills of magic bit the marrow of her bones. “Majesty. How may I serve You tonight?”

Up close, the gleaming starlight of Her mane cast Nightmare Moon’s silhouette in sharp relief. “Rise.” Her voice burrowed between Rarity’s ribs and nested there. She watched Her Chamberlain drag her eyes up to a respectful height, and blinked slowly. “You are trembling, Chamberlain Rarity. Tell me why.”

Was she? Rarity hadn’t noticed.

“You… oh, You possess a breathtaking presence, Majesty. To experience the magnitude of the Night up close—I… I am overcome.” Stop shaking. “I can only offer my sincerest apology.” Stop. Shaking. Deep breath. Good. “I will try to keep my emotions in check.”

She smiled. “You’re a poor liar, Chamberlain.” The little purr of laughter set Rarity’s teeth on edge. Was that danger, or just amusement? Was there a difference? “You’ll need to work on that if you’re to be a functional member of my Court. Honest politicians and noblemares never last long.”

Viceroy Moondancer laughed, so Rarity supposed that had been a joke. She managed a watery little chuckle. “True, yes. But your… Court, Majesty?”

“Yes, Chamberlain.” The deep reverb of Nightmare Moon’s voice fell away syllable by syllable until it became almost normal. Powerful, gripping, but not deep enough to sink into Rarity’s gut. “Did you not receive word of the engagement?”

“I did, Majesty, but—”

Of course. In marrying Prince Blueblood, she would become a noblemare. Not a minor throwaway title, but a real noblemare with a place in the Eventide Court. And there was something else, too. What, Rarity didn’t know.

“—but I hadn’t fully considered the ramifications. It needed time to sink in, and I must admit, I couldn’t place what my new position would be.” In jest, she gave a small chuckle. “Prince or not, I surely couldn’t become a princess by marriage.”

Moondancer snorted at that, and in turn, Her Majesty smiled.

“Is this why you have not rejoiced?” Nightmare Moon tilted her chin slightly. “It puzzles me that your dreams of late have been anxious and troubled. Is the pairing not suitable? Have I not offered the most coveted husband in all Equestria?” Again, She smiled. Wider, this time. “There are some who would call it a dream come true.”

And there it was. Night Chamberlain Rarity stared. “You? You did this yourself?”

“The term,” said Moondancer, “is thank you.”

“Oh!” Curse it all, she’d started shaking again. “O-oh no, Your Majesty, I’m grateful—truly, I am—but I… oh, dear. Well, I don’t deserve it. I’m not worthy of such a gift.”

“Humility is a virtue, Night Chamberlain, but do not sell yourself short. You have performed exemplary work in my service. If not for you, we wouldn’t have our favorite guest in the dungeon.” The great arc of Her wings bloomed dark, awful, and gorgeous. “You are scheduled to meet your fiancé at the start of New Moon. We still stand at high alert, thus you shall be accompanied by a Night Guard.” The Princess made a dismissive gesture towards the alcoves. “That one, I suppose.” She turned to Moondancer to confirm. “That is the injured one, yes? Yes.”

Lieutenant Dash’s bright magenta eyes—no, light burgundy after all—blinked at them in the dark. She saluted with a nod.

“Yes, Majesty.” Rarity bent her head. A thin tendril of stars lifted her chin up again.

“Oh, always so serious.” She laughed. “Ah, rejoice, dearest Rarity. You’ve earned this.”





Moonbow Dash paced semi-circles around the mountain of luggage. Her tail clinked against her armor as she flicked it, and she twisted her mouth as if she’d swallowed something sour. Halfway through one circuit, she stamped her hoof and paced the other direction.

Watching her in the reflection of her vanity mirror, it put Rarity in the mind of clockwork soldiers in a music box. She refocused on brushing her mane. Future brides ought to look presentable. “Is there something on your mind, Dash?”

Dash snorted. “Think you brought enough for an overnight trip? Sheesh.” She made a great production of rolling her eyes and muttering under her breath and flapping her little bat wings. It was annoyingly precious. “I think this is more stuff than you brought on our camping trip. At least that took, like, three days and we were outside, but this is ridiculous.”

Rarity’s hairbrush paused mid-stroke, ninety-two out of one hundred. “I’m sorry?”

“You heard me. Prince or not, this is way too much—are those two umbrellas? You know you’re gonna be inside the whole time, right? And even if you weren’t, all the rain’s going east for crop stuff.” She tapped the wooden structure in the center of the mound. “Who brings a literal wardrobe?!”

“The chiffarobe is a present, first of all.” Rarity turned from the vanity while her hairbrush finished the last few strokes. “But what did you mean with all that business about camping?” Her? In the black dead forest with the dirt and timberwolves and all those wretched thorny vines? The very idea!

“Yeah, that one summer in the falls, remember? You and me and Applejack—”

The brush dropped. “How do you know Applejack? She moved ages ago!” She wouldn’t be caught dead in a forest, either. Not unless Orange Co. needed space for a new industrial greenhouse.

“She...” Dash flicked an ear. “I know I saw her at Solstice last year for Orange’s wedding. Pretty sure I knew her before that, though. I guess I first met her at…” Her wing rubbed the back of her helmet. “…huh. I’m sure I’ll think of it.” 

Rarity doubted it. Unless Moonbow arrived in Ponyville back when she’d been a filly, or had been stationed in Manehattan—and she hadn’t—there was no way. Applejack didn’t even have a cutie mark when she’d left. “I’m certain we’ve never been camping either, dear.”

“Yeah, but…” A lost expression crept over the second lieutenant. The beginnings of another protest stirred under her breath, but it died before it began. For all the world, she appeared an actor who’d stumbled into the wrong production.

“Perhaps,” Rarity offered, “you dreamed it?”

“Don’t think so. I don’t really dream much. See, I do these little naps instead of one big sleep. That means I’m ready to fly whenever I need to.” Dash pawed the carpet fringe. “Not that big on dreaming, anyway. Mine get kinda… weird. Way too real.”

Understandable. None of them slept well in the first weeks of Eternal Night. Traumatic stress of Daybreaker’s regime took a toll on everypony. Canyons of blank space cut across memories of the Unenlightened Age.

Rarity felt no rush to fill those gaps.

Flames roar through Town Hall. Sweetie Belle screaming. The mayor dead. Everypony screaming, fire everywhere. A wicked and terrible alicorn throws her head back laughing—

None at all.

“You should try to sleep anyway.” Rarity crossed the room and sat next to her. Would it be appropriate to touch Dash’s hoof? She blinked at her shiny little shoe beside the filthy battle boot. Probably not, under the circumstances. “If you’re having bad dreams, Her Majesty could help. She’s always helped with mine.”

Moonbow stared at her. The lost expression had vanished. “…Right, help. Rares, are you okay? I saw you tonight in the throne room. That looked… intense.”

“Oh, well, it’s as I said before. Standing in Nightmare Moon’s presence can be overwhelming.” To her credit, she hadn’t even wept afterwards. Wanted to, but didn’t. “Overcome with love for Her Majesty, I suppose.”

“Rarity. You were terrified. I thought you were about to faint in there.” Dash’s wing wrapped around Rarity’s back. She shouldn’t have done it. Rarity shouldn’t have leaned into it.

They should have parted ways at Harvest Moon and left each other alone. Rarity should have offered her gratitude for Dash’s service and gone back to work. It had been she who’d pulled the lieutenant into this. She who didn’t have the discipline to turn Dash away when she found her after she’d left the infirmary. The heat of spring and summer had dissipated long ago, and Rarity missed her old excuse. She missed a lot of things.

“It doesn’t matter. I’m better now.” A little open air. Some warmth. That’s all she needed. Rarity pressed against the armor and tapped her nose under Dash’s chin, smiling when she felt Dash smile. “There’s still time before bed. Why don’t we read in bed for a little bit?” Her hoof began to lift the helmet.

Dash pushed it back down. “Actually, I’ve got a better idea. C’mere a sec.” In one smooth motion, she hoisted the chamberlain into her hooves. She glanced at Rarity’s surprised blink and grinned. “I’m gonna show you something neat.”





Rarity gasped for breath. Sheens of sweat shimmered in her coat, despite the cold. Little clouds of her breath lifted up into the blanket of cumulus above their heads. Still trembling, she wrapped her forelegs tighter around Moonbow’s neck. “That was amazing.”

“Heh. I know.”

Disheveled tangles waved behind her in the open air. Rarity would need at least three hundred brushstrokes to make her mane presentable again. Somepony down there probably heard her shrieking at takeoff. It didn’t matter. “That… was amazing. Is flying like that for you all the time?”

“Yep, pretty much.” They touched down on a lonely cliff face. The lights of Ponyville sparkled in the distance, and with Castle Midnight to the north, Rarity guessed they must have landed in Galloping Gorge.

Rarity wobbled on the rock a moment before she found her legs. “Can we go again?”

Dash plopped down beside her with a satisfied sigh. “What, another ride through the stars at breakneck speed, so fast the fur melts off your face?”

“Yes.”

“So fast it turns all your bones into jelly?”

“Yes!”

“So fast that it rips all the feathers off the little birdies and even the falcons have to hang their heads in shame knowing they could never hope to match that level of speed? Of power? Of that supreme level of totally superb awesome awesomeness?”

Rarity squealed and peppered Dash’s cheek with little kisses. “Yes yes yes!”

“Sure, I guess I can squeeze in one of those.” Dash hissed with a flinch. “Maybe not right away. I might’ve pushed a little too hard just now.”

Lightly, Rarity prodded Moonbow’s ribs. “You’re not supposed to overexert yourself. The nurses said—”

“I know what they said. I’m okay, I just need a sec. I can fly fine, I’m just not supposed to run drills.” The Night Guard’s wings flexed and stretched, throwing long shadows over the rocks. “But these things aren’t built for speed. They hit like a buffalo, though.”

Grit, dust, and cloudstuff mussed the armor’s shine, yet the glamoured wings could have come fresh from the spa. No nicks, no cuts, no scars. Dearest Moonbow took such pride in her scars. Every one had stories behind them, from the magical burns of unicorn terrorists to the nick on her eyebrow when she’d crashed into a birch tree. She’d marked every part of herself, save the part that belonged to Nightmare Moon.

Rarity raised an eyebrow, inspecting the rent-to-own Guard wings. “How fast are the real ones?” she muttered, mostly to herself.

“Dunno, really. Until I earn full transformation, I can only guess, but I know Wind Rider can—”

“No.” Her eyes narrowed. “How fast are your real ones?” When Rarity prodded the glamoured bat wings, they didn’t flinch at her touch. They didn’t shiver at the wind or catch the light, and the more Rarity thought about it, the more she came to resent them.

“That’s it, I’ve decided,” she said. “Take off your armor.”

“W-what? Why?” Moonbow shied back, fluffing under the collar and… was that a blush Rarity saw? “No, that’s dumb. Besides, I only need to ditch the backplate to fly with the feathers. …Though I guess flying around half-dressed looks kind of silly.”

Rarity nodded. “Precisely.”

Dash pursed her lips. “It wouldn’t make a difference. A few extra seconds, maybe a tighter turn or three.” She sagged a little. “…I’d catch more thermals. Feel the wind in my feathers.”

“On the contrary, Lieutenant Dash, I believe it would make all the difference. If nothing else, it’s a chance to see them in action before you make first lieutenant.” After the Solstice, who knew if she’d ever get a chance to see them at all? “And on a personal note, I like seeing them. They’re glorious.”

The chest plates went first. Rows of blue feathers blossomed from leathery skin as the bat wings fell away like dust on a trophy case. A light breeze teased the primaries, rippling through the secondaries, tertiaries, and the softer-than-soft down feathers. Every feather fastened by skin and blood, every feather unequivocally Dash.

“You really like these old things?” She dipped her ears, but a smile hid beneath the helmet. “Nopony’s into featherbacks anymore. Even civilians have them now.” Dash stepped out of the first shoe while she unfastened the last of the rear guard.

“Oh, absolutely!” Rarity circled her, admiring the tiny nicks and tatters in the otherwise glossy feathers. She’d preened them. “Why, they’re so out they’re in. Vintage, I’d call them. Anyhow, it’s still a speed experiment; as it is, nopony else can blast through the sky the way you can, right?”

“Technically, on the straightaway, Fleetfoot—”

“Oh, Fleetfoot, Shmeetfoot.”

The last battle boot slipped off Dash’s hoof. She placed it in a crevice, along with the chest plate. “What’s ‘vintage’ mean?”

“Hm? Oh, it’s a fashion term.”

Dash blinked. “Really? Huh, I didn’t know you were into fashion.”

Rarity pulled her silk dressing gown around her shoulders: an elegant number, deep purple with blue accents, not unlike the rest of her wardrobe. Not unlike most of Equestria’s wardrobe. “As a filly, yes. For a time, I even fancied myself a future designer.” She smiled at the silliness of it. “I wanted to create beautiful things: flowing gala gowns, avant-garde runway statements, stately tuxedos... Making Equestria shine brighter one pony at a time.”

The year before everything changed, shoulder pads had come back into style. Even at the time, they were hideous leftovers of a decade so engorged with choice it didn’t know what to do with itself. Even so, Rarity found herself missing them. A selfish want, she knew. Gussying up just to show off—what could be more vain?

She’d been a filly in an age that didn’t know better, but even now, older and (presumably) wiser, the ghost of vanity wormed into her. Sometimes, she wondered about adding a pink scarf or a pair of gold earrings on the nights when she didn’t actively serve Her Majesty. Only wondered.

“A silly little filly’s trifle, really,” Rarity said.

“I don’t think it’s that silly. When I was little, I wanted to be a Wonderbolt.” Moonbow twitched her ears in thought. “Then again, a lot of ’Bolts ended up joining the Guard anyway. In a way, I guess I got in after all. Except there’s less racing and more standing around looking spooky.”

Rarity couldn’t disagree. The hawkish helmet cut an imposing figure, especially in the dark where shadows did half the work psyching ponies out. Less so on a mostly naked pegasus. “As a former fashionista, I regret to inform you that you cannot flap about wearing just a third of an ensemble, Moonbow.” She pointed at the helmet. “When I said lose the armor, I meant all of it.”

“The helmet stays.” She hovered out of reach before Rarity could do anything about it.

“Why?” Rarity lifted an eyebrow. “You’ve taken it off plenty of times. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.” 

Now that she considered it, when had she last seen Dash without the helmet? When she’d been stuck in the infirmary, but bandages wrapped her head then. Before that, it had been on Liberation Night. Perhaps the week after. 

“Unless!” Rarity jolted straight up. “Unless it isn’t.”

“Uh. Rarity?” No doubt about it, Dash was definitely blushing. Her feathers bushed out as the unicorn stalked closer with a sly smirk. “What are you doing, Rarity?”

“Lieutenant Dash, you’re hiding something.”

“No I’m not! YOU’RE hiding something. This is insubordination, you can’t go around telling officers to remove their helmets.” She climbed higher. “I outrank you.”

“Barely. We’re nearly the same rank as it is, and I’ll be a—a something in two months, and then I’ll outrank you anyhow.”

Dash crossed her forelegs. “Two months isn’t now, is it?”

“Now you’re just being petulant. You’re a Night Guard; guards serve ponies of the castle. I still win.” She reared on her hind legs as Dash flapped backwards. “What are you hiding from me? Did something happen to your mane?”

“No.” That poker face wouldn’t fool a blind infant.

Rarity hopped an inconsequential little hop. “Show me! I want to see. Please?”

“No you don’t, it’s—look, Zephyr can’t dye it again until the rest of the stitches come out, plus it’s all gross and why… why are you looking at me that way?”

“Now I have to see it. Come now, I won’t tell a soul.” Rarity tossed her knots and tangles over her shoulder. “It’s not as if you’re the only one here with a mane emergency.”

“That’s not the same thing. Everything looks good on you—you’ve got freaky look-great-all-the-time powers and…” Dash groaned. “I’m not getting out of this, am I?”

“Not on your life.”

“Okay.” Dash touched down, both hooves on her helmet. She groaned again. “You asked for it.”

Rarity staggered back with a gasp.

COLORS.

“Oh. O-oh my. Oh MY!”

It was all she could say. What else could she say? Such colors! That scream of poppy-blossom red and the lush emerald fields of grass, and the full plump oranges grown from the sun—oh, and the tongue of the sun whipping bright yellow, bold and grand, not searing or hurtful but warm and feather-soft. And there in back, the extinct rich violets that only bloomed in books, and the gorgeous azure blue of fine Saddle Arabian silks.

“Dash.” Rarity blinked away tears. “Oh my goodness.”

Moonbow’s head hunched in her shoulders. “Hey, I know it’s terrible, but there’s no need to cry about i—”

Rarity grabbed the pegasus with both hooves and kissed her. She kissed her until she ran out of air. And then she ran her hooves through all those magnificent colors and kissed her again. “Darling, you’re BEAUTIFUL!”

Dash blinked with both cheeks mushed between Rarity’s hooves. “I am? Hey—no, I’m not! I’m tough and fierce, I don’t do pretty.” Her war face held significantly less menace when squished up. Even less when kissed upon the nose. Dash did her best, bless her.

“Tough and fierce things can be beautiful too, darling.” Nightmare Moon, for instance. And yet Dash was even more beautiful than She—a sleek, strong creature with a mane shining all the colors of…

“A rainbow.” Cradling the lieutenant’s chin in her hooves, Rarity let her cheek rest against the stripe of fluffy reds and yellows. She breathed in the scent of water vapor and iron. “It’s been so long, I almost forgot what they looked like. How dare you keep something this divine under your hat for so long, Moonbow?”

Rarity pulled away, curious. Though lovely, the moonbows of the Canterhorn waterfalls had colors so faint and diluted they may as well not exist at all. “You changed your name, didn’t you?”

“It’d be kind of strange for Nightmare Moon’s guard to have a name like Rainbow Dash. Rainbows need sun ’n’ stuff. Can you leggo of my face now?” She rubbed her cheeks as Rarity pulled away, eyeing what must have been an ungainly grin.

Though she tried to hide it, a shy smile twitched at Dash’s—Rainbow Dash’s—muzzle. What a sweet smile for such a pony on so dark a night. “So, do you feel better?”

Rarity considered it. “Yes, Rainbow Dash.” It even felt fabulous to say. “I think I do.”

“Good. You deserve to have a break sometimes.” Rainbow’s wing flipped Rarity’s mane the wrong direction. “What do you say we find out what these vintage wings can really do?”

“I’d love nothing more.”

Together, they lifted off the cliff. Below them, the kingdom of Night smeared in wisps of whites and blues and tiny little lightning bugs. A painter's mistake wiped off the canvas. The weight of the last night—of five years’ worth of last-nights—dropped and fell away, too heavy to carry and too slow to keep up. Wind in her ears roared louder than any stupid old thing she’d worried about hours before. The landscape shifted. Browns and greens overtook blues and whites, and the city lights clapped out all at once, with only the rush of black clouds beneath her hooves.

And above…

Moonlight filtered through a sweep of blue feathers and skimmed a shock of color bannering through the night. Rainbow Dash held the horizon in her eyes and rushed to meet it, teeth clenched in a spitfire grin.

She had been right about the view.

In that harmless space of seconds, Night Chamberlain Rarity knew she had committed high treason. It bothered her less than she’d imagined.
> Nightcall
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Prince Blueblood VIII yawned in his doorway. Tailored silk and velvet swung at his sides, buttoned in one spot and in the wrong hole. “Suppose it was inevitable. So much for good faith.” Bowing his head, he swept the way inside. “Welcome to my not-so-humble abode, dearest future-wife. It’s my utmost pleasure to make your acquaintance at last and I’m certain we’ll spend many years together in prosperity and…” He yawned again. “…and such.” A bouquet of spiderwort and meadow saffron levitated up from a nearby table.

Admittedly, it was a more… modest welcome than Rarity anticipated. She spared a glance for the expressionless Night Guard hovering beside her. Not that Rarity couldn’t understand a lack of enthusiasm. At least he’d brought flowers.

“Good evening, Your Grace. Praise Our Lady that I may have the honor to—”

The bouquet passed Rarity’s waiting hooves to hover under Dash’s nose. “Um.”

“I’d offer a tour, but you’ll see the rest of the manor in due time anyhow, or we’ll both live in Castle Midnight. There’s no point either way.” Blueblood’s hoofsteps echoed as he crossed the foyer. “Unless I’m under investigation, in which case, knock yourself out.”

Lieutenant Dash stared after him, holding the flowers the way one holds a smelly baby.

Trotting up to close the gap, Rarity cleared her throat. “Prince Blueblood, I believe you might be a bit—”

“Sauced?” Dash mumbled.

“—confused. The good Second Lieutenant Moonbow Dash is here as my bodyguard.” When the prince turned and stared at the both of them as if they’d sprouted sunflowers from their ears, Rarity took the bouquet. “I am your fiancée.”

The prince’s eyes opened in full. “You? The chamberlain? Hm, that’s interesting.” He led the way to a minimalist parlor, all whites and golds and rich chestnut browns. The liquor cabinet had already been opened. “What are you in for?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Dearest wife, we have the rest of our marriage for mind games and duplicity; we may as well be honest now. I’m either your life sentence or your prize. I’d like to know which one.”

Rarity sniffed the spiderwort. They must have come from a capable hothouse; the blossoms were barely wilted. “I helped intercept a stolen correspondence to King Sombra of the Crystal Empire.”

“And she jumped out of a window to do it.” The lieutenant perched at the top of an armchair. Wings spread and scowling, she loomed over the parlor like a blue and purple gargoyle. “The chamberlain could’ve died.”

“Prize, then.” Blueblood knocked back a shot of vodka and flopped on the couch. His head lolled over the throw pillow, blond mane dangling over his eyes.

Seconds passed.

Minutes.

Dash folded her wings, squinting. “…Did he just fall asleep?”

“I don’t know.” If Rarity’s tail weren’t in a bun, she might have snapped it in his face. She sneered at the half-bottle of vodka that he hadn’t even offered to share. “Either way, this boorish behavior is unbecoming of a prince.”

“It’s unbecoming for a prince to marry below his station, and yet…” Blueblood’s glass gestured vaguely into the air. “Before I forget: how many foals d’you want? Our quota’s one, but you’re the one having them, so…”

Rarity’s ears snapped back. “It’s somewhat early for that sort of talk, don’t you think?”

“Why not? That’s the point of this whole affair. Between the nanny and The Academy, we’ll only see them a few times a year, anyway. The number’s up to you—you’re the one bearing them, and the extra stipends might be nice—but personally, I’d prefer just one.” The prince sank deeper into the couch. “I hope it doesn’t take too many tries.”

“What, you don’t like mares?” Lieutenant Dash ignored the chamberlain’s pointed stare.

“I like them fine, but I prefer sex as… let’s call it a spectator sport. With towels.” Blueblood’s handsome nose wrinkled. “I never understood why the process needs to be so messy.”

Flipping his mane out of his eyes, the prince rolled onto his stomach and stretched like a tomcat. He squinted at his company in a weak attempt to read the room. “Mm. I’ve been rude, haven’t I? Thank you for the armoire, Night Chamberlain… Clarity?”

“Rarity,” the lieutenant and the chamberlain both said.

“Then thank you, Chamberlain Rarity. Care for a drink?” He rattled his glass of ice at the liquor cabinet. “If you’re not the vodka type, I think there’s still some vintage brandy back there.”

“I gave you a chiffarobe, and no thank you.”

Stars above, he’d had better manners at the Gala—better composure, at the very least. Rarity’s frown deepened. Memories of a (probably) sober and tidier Prince Blueblood providing himself a corsage and snubbing apple fritters drifted in the back of her mind. But she couldn’t have met him at the Gala. Liberation Night? Yes, it must have been then.

Since nopony had even invited her to sit, Rarity saw fit to circle the couch so as to glare at him properly. “If you don’t mind my saying so, Your Grace, you certainly know how to suck the romance out of an engagement.”

“Romance!” Something between a laugh and a cough bubbled from Blueblood like a cracked oil barrel. “Ah, you’re my funny wife. I think I like you.”

“I did not intend that as a joke, Prince Blueblood.” Rarity’s voice rose above respectable octaves. Not that anypony besides her would even care. “There’s still a place in Equestria for romance and love.”

“And that place is in our Nightmare’s lap. Ah, praise and glory to our best beloved Matron of the Night, everlasting and ever-loving.” In all her life, Rarity had never seen somepony clasp their hooves in such contempt. Blueblood’s little smile bordered on blasphemy, and when he noticed Rarity’s shock, he only laughed. “Does that count for a daily devotional? I don’t think it does; I didn’t write it down.”

Lieutenant Dash fidgeted in her spot atop the armchair, frowning at the foyer behind them, then at the bits and pieces of decoration upon the mantle and shelves. Exchanging a glance with the chamberlain, she gestured to the walls around them: carved ivy, compass roses, masterpieces of dead painters, photographs and portraits of several ponies… all but one.

The eighty by sixty portrait of Nightmare Moon that hung in every official’s office and every titled pony’s bedroom was not there. No moon sigils. No visual tributes to the Night to be seen. Had there at least been the proper banners in the foyer? Rarity couldn’t remember any.

“Did you know,” continued Blueblood, “that the merchant and farmer ponies only need to write yearly devotionals? A travesty. She taxes the peasants a little less for their love.” He cast his fiancée an appraising glance. “Suppose that explains why you buy that fluff and nonsense about romance.”

“It’s only fair for ponies closer to Her Majesty to devote more of their love because they have more to be grateful for and—” Rarity snapped around. “What do you mean, ‘that explains why I believe it’? Are you implying I’m a peasant?”

“No, I’m implying you were a peasant, and I don’t know why you’ve got your tail in a twist. It’s the truth, isn’t it? You must have been a commoner before; I know I’ve never heard of you, and I know everypony worth knowing. Or I did.”

Prince Blueblood pulled himself up to lean over the back of the couch. Behind him sat a bookcase brimming with photographs of himself shaking hooves and claws with deposed yak princes, missing griffon diplomats, and countless ponies in lovely suits and gowns. Many of whom no longer existed, or else had been assigned new spouses and families years ago.

“If I hadn’t known you, one of them would.” Blueblood frowned at his last swallow of vodka and rested his chin on the cushion. “Did you know that Fancy Pants mixed the best vesper martinis in Canterlot? Always so kind, even when you weren’t kind to him.”

Rarity’s reflection skimmed over the laughing faces of Fancy Pants and his entourage. Of the four of them, only Lady Silver Frames remained. “Your Grace, I’m sure you must be mistaken. There’s never been such a pony.” Grazing the rest of the photographs, Rarity felt hair prickle at the base of her neck. “Perhaps you’re thinking of Minister Neighsay?”

He smiled at that. “I can see why you’re chamberlain. I wonder what that will make us. Duke and duchess? Viscount and viscountess? They didn’t tell you, did they?”

Rarity shook her head.

“Didn’t think so. My guess is viscount, but honestly who the hay knows. The titles mean whatever Nightmare Moon says they mean.” Smelling sweetly of cologne and alcohol, he leaned down to fake-whisper, “Between you and me and the Night Guard, I think she’s making it up as she goes.”

Lieutenant Dash flapped from the armchair to the couch. She sneered at the prince, rolled her wings, and shifted into the air again. For good measure, her tail “accidentally” knocked an antique compass off the mantle.

He blinked slowly at the compass on the marble tile. “Rude.” Turning back to the chamberlain, he raised an eyebrow. “I still don’t know why you’re in such a mood, dear wife; I’m the one lowering a rank. You’ll ascend no matter what. It’s sort of her thing.”

“Her thing?” Rarity’s magic caught Dash’s tail before she flew another circuit around the room and “accidentally” broke something. Poor circumstances were no excuse to go about abusing other ponies’ property.

Blueblood poured another glass and nodded. “Her Majesty, I think, has a soft spot for ponies who feel ignored or forgotten or left behind. That and it’s easier to breed a new court from scratch with ponies who have a reason to like her. The rest of us…” He toasted—to himself, to the dead, to Moon, to his colleagues, to being sauced off his rump, who knew for sure? “We behave. The commissaries—we’re on what, our third?”

“Fifth, I think.”

“The commissaries didn’t match the elite with Night Guards by accident.” He gave a curious tilt of the head. “You almost seem surprised, chamberlain. You’re right in the thick of it; don’t tell me you never noticed?”

“I know how to mind my own work; my job is to deliver the Viceroy’s documents, not read them. The process of political intrigue isn’t my business. I am a professional, Prince Blueblood. Wandering ears help nopony, and I’ve no interest in politics.”

The prince grinned. “A mare after my own heart: keep your head down and it can’t get chopped off. Maybe we’re a match after all. I respect professionalism, but as for the other part, I’ve got bad news for you, viscountess.”

Blueblood’s empty glass levitated across the couch, and it clinked the Moon sigil on Rarity’s uniform. “You are politics.”

Perhaps she’d take that drink after all. Rarity poured herself a modest glass and sank into the couch, four cushions away from her future husband. A swift movement behind her indicated that the lieutenant had landed on the armrest. Rarity looked at neither pony, but studied rows of the grinning dead elite in their bookshelf memorial. “And what about you?” She spoke low, and her voice felt as if it belonged to somepony else. “What’s your place in all of this?”

“Me? Why, I live here as a prime example of Her Royal Majesty’s sweet mercy—provided I don’t stray more than two miles from the estate.” He chuckled to himself with a smile so sad that Rarity found herself sorry for him. “As if I had anywhere to go. Besides that, I’m the only family she’s got left. I’m her nephew too, you know.”

Lieutenant Dash leaned over the back of the couch so that her wing just so happened to rest on Rarity’s shoulder. “Yeah, I’ve been wondering: how’s that work, anyway? If you’re the nephew of both Nightmare Moon and Daybreaker—”

His ruddy eyes met them directly for the first time that night. “Don’t call her that.”

A terrible clarity fell over him, and he must have realized he’d all but admitted Heartcrime to a Night Guard Officer. Though he blanched, Blueblood didn’t recant. “You don’t need to use the other word. Just don’t… don’t call her that. Please.”

Rarity set the vodka aside and ran her hoof down the side of her face. What had she stepped into?

“As for your question, Lieutenant, it happened through some arrangement with the Platinum bloodline a millennium and a half ago. I don’t know, check the studbooks if you haven’t burned them yet.” Blueblood swung back another shot. Grinning with the ugly sort of liquid courage, he added, “I hope it wasn’t in the old library.”

Chamberlain Rarity jolted up. “I’m sorry, Your Grace, but I need a moment of air. If you’ll excuse me.” Without waiting for an answer, she opened the door and moved out onto the balcony.

Outside, the gentle breeze had shifted into warm swift gusts—thermals to push a legion of guards through the sky. A war wind. Since the wind wasn’t strong enough to knock her off her hooves, Rarity guessed that it centered farther out in New Canterlot. Perhaps even Ponyville.

The door opened behind her. “You know,” said Dash, “if I broke his legs right now, I’d get away with it. This place has like, twelve violations and three felonies, and that was before he opened his mouth. The photos alone are five years in the dungeon, minimum.”

Rarity blinked at her slowly, but didn’t answer.

Water crashed below the balcony, spitting white froth through cracks in the wooden floor. Rarity leaned over the side to watch the waterfall vanish off the side of the Canterhorn. One of the last vestiges of Canterlot Castle—indeed, of Old Canterlot herself—the falls remained unchanged. Too useful of a resource, Rarity supposed. Nightmare Moon kept nothing in her kingdom that was not useful.

Behind her, Blueblood's manor glowed upon the mountaintop, a white crumb of the demolished castle it once was.

“She must already know,” Rarity said to the banister. “He’s not what I’d call subtle.” The Second Lieutenant of Her Royal Majesty’s Night Guard had stood within two feet of cracking Blueblood’s skull, yet he’d led them into the heart of his parlor and waxed nostalgic for the Unenlightened Age. “I wonder why.”

“Why hide what Moon already knows? You can get away with a lot if you preen the right feathers, but ponies who do that still get scared about it.” Dash’s wings clapped against her armor as she glanced back at the stallion half-fallen off his couch. He waved at them through the window. “If he was flaunting it, that’d be one thing, but… I don’t think this guy even cares.” She stamped. “It’s weird. He’s weird. I don’t like it. I don’t like him. I don’t like any of this!”

“Nopony’s asking you to like it.”

“Okay. You hang tight, I’m gonna go break his legs.”

Rarity caught Rainbow’s tail as the pegasus turned around. “Do not break my fiancé’s legs. Besides, he’s not so bad.”

“But Rarity, why him? Blueblood’s a buckface but he’s right—these things don’t happen by accident.”

“Of course not. You heard it yourself: She picked him out for me personally. And why not? He’s all I ever wanted.”

A dream come true. 

Literally. Once, Rarity dreamed of nothing more than marrying a prince and being whisked away to a castle. She already had the castle. Now for the other half.

Nightmare Moon, gracious in action and generous in all ways, despite Rarity’s transgressions, had bestowed a remarkable gift. A legacy in the making. All she’d need do was continue as she had done: praise, obey, repeat ad nauseam.

“Am I your prize or your life sentence?”

A sliver of a dream served up in a crumb of a castle.

Rarity peered at the shimmer of silver stretching across the mist of the waterfalls. A permanent moonbow. Not a rainbow, but in a world with nothing but moonlight, it would do. It could suffice. It could.

A strand of red poked out from under Rainbow’s helmet.

...It couldn’t.

“I don’t think I can do this,” Rarity whispered. She turned and said it again, louder this time.

“That’s Heartcrime talk, Chamberlain.” Dash’s eyes glinted, expression hidden under the helmet. “You know what She does to ponies like us, right? Liberation Night’s for civilians—the higher-ups don’t go that fast. I saw what happened to the last commissary.”

“Us,” she’d said. Ponies like us. “Is that an admission of guilt, Lieutenant?”

“Like I said, three felonies.” Dash pointed her wing at the prince in the window. “One.” At Rarity. “Two.” At herself. “Three Heartcrimes. Didn’t know for sure about the second one until tonight, though.”

Rarity clicked her tongue. “Tonight? I would have thought you’d figured it out when you revealed that fabulous mane of yours.”

“Hey, I said I didn’t know for sure. I still had a good feeling about it when you tried to eat my face.” Her wing smoothed along Rarity’s cheek as she leaned in close. “Gotta say, you’re pretty cute for a felon.”

A new voice spoke from the roof. “She’s not wrong.”

They looked up. Rarity gasped. Rainbow Dash slouched into a battle stance in front of her. “You.” Her wings flared wide, braced to block the path and leave the chamberlain room to flee inside.

Rarity stayed put and stared. Rude, she knew, but she couldn’t help it.

The pony on the roof stared back. The black flag of her trench coat snapped and swirled in the gale of a war breeze and beneath it, dawn-pink wings stretched for the new moon. Hardship of the chase had turned what had probably been a lovely manestyle into a riot of pink and purple and shocks of gold. A tapered horn faintly glowed beneath an absolutely stunning wide-brim hat. A sigil of the sun gleamed gold, bronze, and amber.

Equestria’s most wanted, the infamous terrorist and spearhead of Sunwise, wearing the best outfit Rarity had seen in ages: Mi Amore Cadenza. Cadance, the captured unicorn had called her. “I felt you from three blocks away. You’re a cute couple.” She tossed a dry glance toward the Night Guard pawing at the tile. “Even if one of you broke my husband’s femur.”

Dash snorted. “I can give you a matching his-and-hers set if you want.”

“No thanks, but I’ll tell him you said hi when I get home. He should be there soon.” Cadenza skittered along the roof tile, ears rotating while her attention fought between the balcony and the city. “This is a bad time for lovers, but I think you know that. You could come along if you want.”

“Right, like we’re gonna fall for that.” Dash scowled her most imposing Guard scowl. “You’re lucky I don’t fly up and wring your neck right now.”

“Hm. I tried.” She turned to Rarity. “How about you?”

For a moment, Rarity almost considered it. They couldn’t remain as they’d been. But this had all come so fast, and for all they knew, Cadenza needed a couple of dupes to slow down the Guard. Heartcrime was one thing, but defecting to the other side…

“No thank you, but I love your hat. It’s positively sublime.” She blinked at Rainbow Dash’s incredulous stare. “Well, it is. I’ve got—” Wait, did she? “Er, I’d love to have one just like it in burgundy.”

Prince Blueblood peered out of the door. Bleary-eyed, he squinted at his fiancée, at the Night Guard, and then slowly twisted his neck to see the terrorist on the roof. One could almost call his smirk handsome. “Oh. Hey, cuz. What’re you up to?”

Cadance’s feathers ruffled as the war breeze kicked into a full gale. The Guard came hot on her trail. “Making a distraction.” In the distance, a building erupted in a fireball. “You?”

“I’m meeting my new wife! 'S that one.” He pointed to both mares. When he looked up again, the alicorn in the trench coat had vanished. Blueblood rattled the ice cubes in his glass. “Huh, must’ve had too much to drink,” he said to himself. “I’m seeing strange ponies on the roof again.”





Night Chamberlain Rarity considered herself an optimist.

While some might have quailed at a castle lockdown and a city-wide curfew, she took it as a key opportunity for personal reflection. No castle tours meant she could freely lodge all the issues to be rectified before the Solstice Nuptial. With a little over a month to go, nothing could afford to be overlooked.

“Dash, we can’t stay here.”

“I know, but we can’t leave now, either. Looks bad.”

“It looks bad no matter when we do it.”

“We disappear now, and ponies are sure to know what’s up. We need a head start, and that means waiting until the heat’s off. I reported Cadenza’s appearance in Canterlot, but that’s not enough. Nopony’s said anything, but Fly and Dust have been watching me. Blueblood’s the first place they’ll go, and I trust that guy with a secret like a changeling on Hearts and Hooves.”

Two nights ago, Rarity had dreamed of changelings: wretched creatures she’d only seen in ink reliefs, all teeth and chitin and swarming Canterlot in a black mass. Rarity—composed, benign Rarity—had fought them with Rainbow at her side, and they hadn’t been alone.

A pink madmare armed with a cannon full of confetti. A yellow pegasus with a kind face and a long pink ribbon of a tail. A purple unicorn’s horn steamed from shooting rapid-fire magic. Applejack had been there, too—back in her Ponyville ponytails, not a pressed suit in sight.

Since the rainbow stripe of Dash’s mane, all of Rarity’s dreams had been this way: lectures from the unicorn; fighting Applejack for Lord Trenderhoof’s attention; the pink madmare leaping off a moving wagon and into her hooves; scaling mountains with Dash to face some horrid dragon; spa days with the ribbon-tailed pegasus; sewing fine gala dresses for all five of them. Absurd, impossible things that came to her without the fuzziness or nonsense of dreams, clearer than memories of tonight’s breakfast. Clear and real as the moon itself. 

The stress must have finally gotten her. At first, she’d wondered if perhaps Her Majesty deigned to tease her in the Dream Realm. Rarity doubted it; Nightmare Moon had bigger felons to fry, and she’d never allow gentle sunshine, even in dreams.

“I know a mare—candy maker in the Ponyville outskirts having an affair with Magistrate Heartstrings. She owes me, and I think she’s got solid passage out of the Kingdom. Fly thinks she used to do recon for the old regime, but I dunno about that. Also, we can get candy.”

“…Are you implying that a known Heartcriminal bribed you with candy?”

“No, I’m implying that I’m too lazy to do Heartcrime paperwork and if ponies want to give me candy I’m not arguing.”

“You say you ‘think’ she has safe passage. You don’t know for sure?”

“Rares, these nights I don’t know anything for sure. It’s gotta be good enough.”

In the entry hall, a skylight full of stars sparkled over Rarity’s shoulders. Her magic took a tapestry off its hook and down to eye level. She donned her silver work glasses, frowning. Hideous reddish-brown stained the indigo dye from where Sky Stinger—may he rest in peace—had been smashed against it. The bottom fringe frayed and tangled where the young guard had grasped at it in feeble desperation.

Her Majesty hadn’t taken the Sunwise unicorn’s escape well.

“Give it a week. Two at most. She ought to chill by then, and everypony will be busy smoking out Cadenza or prepping for Solstice. It’s not much of a window—”

“But it’s the best we can do.”

Rarity cast the tapestry aside. No, this wouldn’t do at all.

In fact, the approach of the new year called for a total makeover. The simple black and indigo needed flair—a silver border, perhaps, or blue fringe instead of black. Both? Yes, both would do nicely. A final offering to the Kingdom of Night before she absconded forever.

“I’m sure she’ll catch some poor Sunwise sap between now and then.”

“Yes, and interrogations always put her in a favorable mood. She’ll joke with Moondancer and me when we come to attend her.”

“Heh, now if any extra alicorns don’t pop back in to visit, we should be clear.”

Deep in the forest, the timberwolves raised their voices to the air. It must have been zap-apple season—or rather, it would have been. Rarity did so miss zap apple jam. Made from rainbow-striped apples with a nip of lightning, crisp, smoky, biting at her tongue…

How long until Rainbow is off-duty, I wonder? With terrorists and vagabonds prowling the night, requesting a guard for her bedchamber wouldn’t be out of the question.

Behind her, a fresh autumn breeze rolled through the open door. Hoofsteps echoed through the hall. Slow. Tentative. Curious.

“Rarity?”

When she turned, a unicorn stood there.

The purple unicorn with pink streaks in her mane and stars blazed upon her flank. The one she’d stood with at a gala she’d never attended. The mare who visited Rainbow Dash with her at a hospital that had been rebuilt years ago. Who’d stood withers to withers beside Rarity in the gnash of changeling teeth. Who’d given her butterfly wings in dreams of rainbows and sunshine and skies the color of Dash’s coat.

A librarian crossed from the records after a mysterious fire burned down a library harboring forbidden texts. The dead sister of the unicorn from Sunwise. Dead for four years.

She had wings this time.
> Light Up the Night
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Teeth dragged through Rainbow’s shivering feathers. As the wings arched upwards and smushed against the headboard, Rarity dove to kiss the fluff at the bottom. She grinned when the pegasus seized and squirmed beneath her. “Now, what was that you said before, darling? Something about burning off energy?” Her magic flipped through the primaries. “Making ponies squeal?”

“Not a squeal.” Rainbow’s breath hitched. “Th-that was a grunt. C’mere, I’m sick of that hair.” Rarity’s black silk ribbon pulled away in her mouth. The last bit of her uniform dangled in Dash’s smile. “Yeah, that’s the stuff. No, wait—”

“Wait, what are—?"

Both hooves ruffled Rarity’s mane into a dangly mess.

“How dare you.”

“Oh, I dare alright, and I’m just getting started.” Dash hooked one hoof around Rarity’s neck, pulling her down as she dragged her tongue up the horn. A tactical error. This only pushed Rarity’s face closer to those fluffy twitchy feathers.

An error quickly realized, if Dash’s gasp was anything to go by. Her body tensed. “…’arriggie.” Dash’s voice muffled around the horn. “A’fink… ah fink I…”

Rainbow Dash launched upright in bed, and Rarity tumbled to the carpet in a white and purple ball of outrage. “I think I’ve seen that mare before!”

Slowly, Rarity shifted her tail out of her face. She glared up at the pony peeping over the edge of the bed. “You’ve picked an opportune time for great revelations.”

“Oh. Sorry about that, Rares.” She pulled her back up, with an earnest (if unsuccessful) effort to smooth Rarity’s mane into a respectable shape. “No, but seriously, I’ve seen her before—you know that purple alicorn who showed up tonight?”

So much for an evening of catharsis and lovemaking. “How could I not? The rambling madmare and her pet dragon are the talk of the town. And she didn’t show up tonight, she showed up three nights ago.”

No… two nights ago? She’d spent at least three hours in the soft interrogation room enduring Flim and Flam’s good-cop/bad-cop routine. Two hours, plus interest, convincing Moondancer that the world wasn’t going to end. Nineteen hours ducking Her Majesty’s wrath. Five hours running scrolls from end to end of the castle. A half hour eating, three more hours with The Colt in Crimson and literally worrying herself sick wondering whether Dash would come back in a box, if she made it back at all. Altogether, that made… too many hours.

All she’d wanted was an hour or so of peace without strange ponies barging through her head. A weak scream wailed in the distance, and Rarity pulled her hooves deep into the blankets. Of course, compared to certain alternatives, she couldn’t complain.

“Oh, and the stranger put Her Majesty in such a good mood at first.” It had been ages since Rarity had heard a threatening cackle from Nightmare Moon; She’d practically salivated at the chance to milk the mystery alicorn’s fear for all it was worth. Or perhaps She’d anticipated a cat-and-mouse battle of wits, if not a battle of horns. Whatever She’d wanted, the alicorn had stolen it from her.

Rarity rubbed the rings under her eyes and groaned. Even now, even here in the warmth of Rainbow’s wings, the purple unicorn—alicorn, whatever—haunted her. “Yes, I’ve seen her too. In dreams...” 

They had to be dreams. What else could they be? 

“…I think.”

“Nonono, that’s the thing—I don’t mean a dream this time! Not even one of those freaky hallucination maybe-it-happened-maybe-not memories either. I mean a for-real thing that absolutely happened.” Dash frowned at her. “You believe me, right?”

“I don’t… disbelieve you,” Rarity said. “You do seem sure. But how could there be another alicorn running around Equestria all this time, and nopony’s noticed?”

“Dunno about all that, but it went like this: It’s back in Cloudsdale when I’m a foal, and me and these two jerks are in the middle of a race, right?” Dash hunched over the blanket, skimming her hoof over the velvet to illustrate. “We’re zooming along and I’m winning of course, then BAZZZAAP! Huge lasers right through the runway! And I’m like, ‘The hay is that?’ ZAP-BAP-ZAPPITYZAP! Cloud rings sliced in half. We start looking around and see these two unicorns duking it out in the sky—except one’s not a unicorn ’cause the wings—and the other mare’s floating around with magic or whatever and it’s like ‘Where’d these guys come from?’ but also like, ‘Who cares?’ because when else do you get to see an epic laser battle in the middle of the sky? Rarity, it was the third coolest thing I ever saw in my life.”

“Is that all?”

“There’s one thing.” The bright of Rainbow’s tail flickered through the dark sheets. “She was really, really set on getting us to finish our race for some reason.”

Rarity frowned. “And now, the same pony turns up spouting a bunch of fluff and sunshine. A madmare, clearly.” A madmare who’d known her name. Not Night Chamberlain Rarity, just Rarity. Only close family and Dash called her that anymore. The alicorn had spoken with the familiar urgency of a sister whose carriage had crashed outside.

“Madness isn’t uncommon. Some aren’t… blessed with the fortitude to thrive in Her Majesty’s Night.” The words fell stillborn, the way they had when she’d praised Sweetie Belle on Liberation Night. They came from somewhere else, and Rarity sat far away. “She’s… she’s withdrawn into her own delusions, that’s all.”

Rainbow Dash leveled a long look. “Yeah, well. She’s not the only one.” She shook her head as Rarity began to protest. “We’re trained to sniff out liars, and you’re not a good one. Not even to yourself. C’mon, you’re ‘overwhelmed with love’ for Nightmare Moon?”

“It’s not unusual to weep or tremble when one is in love.” Her hair. Her hair was a fright. She should fix it. Right now. Rarity fetched a brush from the nightstand and ran it through her mane in quick choppy strokes. “Love… appears in many forms.”

“It doesn’t look like that. Rarity, I’ve been watching you a long time. Nightmare says two words, and every time—every single time—you’re so scared you forget to breathe, and it hurts to look at. It hurts more every time.” Rainbow rested her head against Rarity’s. She ignored the hairbrush still fussing with the unicorn’s mane. “I know that face. I hate that face. Townsponies make it whenever we walk through their neighborhood.”

In a tender corner of the bedchamber, Night Guard armor gleamed like the Nightmare’s grin, half-hidden under the chamberlain uniform. Rarity let the hairbrush fall to the bed, and blinked slowly at their reflection in the vanity mirror: bedraggled, weary, unsmiling, but happier than they’d been in years. Ponies were rather silly creatures and didn’t always know when they were happy, but when it came so rarely, one learned to recognize it.

“That time in Cloudsdale… that wasn’t the only time you’d seen her before, was it?”

Dash tensed. “No. The second time I saw her, she… I know nopony left that library. We watched it go down to cinders, and Dust treated us to ’shroom burgers afterward. Maybe she didn’t have wings at the time, maybe she was just a crazy radical egghead who didn’t wanna let go of those stupid books, but—” She rubbed both hooves over her face. “Buck me, she’s the same pony, and that pony’s dead.”

Rarity’s free-flowing tail coiled around Rainbow’s docked split ends. “Do you think she could have teleported away, somehow?”

“Rider thought that, too. First thing after the alicorn vanished, we all went to dig up the mass grave in Canterlot. Body’s still there. Magic signatures matched. It’s her.” Rainbow glanced at the white hoof draped over her shoulders. She rested a wing on top of it. “If the others weren’t with me, I woulda thought I’d lost it or seen a ghost or… When that alicorn started showing up in my dreams, I figured it was just guilt at first.”

“I thought you didn’t dream.”

“She’s why I trained myself to stop. Turns out being asleep didn’t matter.”

A quiet moment passed while whimpers and pleadings oozed through the floor. On any other night, Moondancer’s wards barred the dungeon’s nightly miseries. Not tonight. Tonight, Nightmare Moon wanted the castle to hear.

“I remember when I used to like this job. Working under some of the best former Wonderbolts of all time? Finally feeling like I’m finally part of something bigger than cloudbusting? Awesome. But cracking down on ponies is a lot different than cracking down on dragons—and most nights I don’t feel so great about the dragons either.” Dash stared at the rolltop desk where Rarity wrote her weekly devotionals. “There’s this foal in the Academy, her name’s Scootaloo.”

That sounded familiar. Sweetie Belle mentioned a Scootaloo at Liberation Night, hadn’t she? The one who’d discovered the Sunwise sympathizers. “The orange filly with little wings?”

“Yeah. She says she wants to be just like me. I’m her hero.” Her ears wilted beside the rainbow mohawk. “Rider says it gets easier, but I don’t think so. Burning that library felt like losing one of my best friends. And when that alicorn left, I felt it again. I don’t get it. How do you miss—”

“—somepony you just met?” Rarity’s tail waved through the air as she thought. “It is a mystery.”

“She walked through the night like a burnt-out street sign through the Coltifornian smog—two letters left, flickerin’ like Horse code… A smile full of hope, with a rolodex of broken promises. One look and I knew: the dame was trouble.”

Indeed, all the players had been assembled: a mysterious mare on a dark night begging for help and rambling nonsense. The hardboiled law-pony with a past longer than a five o’clock shadow. And finally, a by-the-book dame, prudish and haunted—but haunted by what?

Rarity steepled her hooves and breathed slow.

“Spade spat out her lollipop stick, ground it beneath her hoof. The clues all came together in one smooth path. She started walking. ‘Celestia help me when I find where it leads.’”

In Rarity’s window, the Mare in the Moon hung like the condemned: striped like a catseye marble, all green and pink pastels. Soft, gentle shades. Not the brutal reds and oranges of the alicorn who thundered through Equestria’s bad dreams. Why should the colors in the moon be different?

“Your kingdom?”

“Who else?”

“Um... Celestia, of course!”

Because the mare imprisoned in the moon was not Daybreaker. There had never been such a pony.

“It’s an illusion,” whispered Rarity. Against the truth, illusions melted like nightmares at dawn. Faded like the dyed mane of the mare she once called Moonbow.

“Wait, what’s an illusion?” Dash blinked and tilted her head. “Did I miss something?”

“It felt like losing one of my best friends.”

Loath as she was to admit it, a familiar spark had flared within Rarity’s chest at the sight of the mystery alicorn. Warm, exciting, familiar, like a favorite old jacket she thought she’d lost at the bottom of a closet.

How do you miss somepony you just met? When you’d met them before.

“Darling, we’ve known each other for two years, yes?” Two and a half, counting Dash’s first few months patrolling castle grounds and winding up Rarity’s nerves (among other things). “Yet it feels longer than that. There are times I can scarcely imagine life without you.” Rarity nuzzled the soft bristles of Rainbow Dash’s mane. “I believe I’ve missed you for a long time.”

Dash pulled away with a frown. “What exactly are you getting at, Rares?”

“I breathe easy with you around, and…” She paused. Horrors had stormed the halls all night, unspeakable atrocities wailed underhoof, but since Dash had slipped into her chambers, Rarity hardly flinched at them. “It’s a little odd. I’ve been afraid so long, I’ve forgotten what it’s like not to be.”

Or because the dark chasm of her memories was better than illuminating the past few years. Better to pretend there’d never been a Mr. and Mrs. Cake who’d lived and loved in Sugarcube Corner before dying onstage, cold and alone, to the applause of hundreds.

Blueblood’s words came back to her, bitter and giggling: “Keep your head down and it can’t get chopped off.” He’d never stepped to Nightmare Moon’s drum. Performed less than the bare minimum for fealty rituals. He all but openly mourned Princess Celestia. All with no interference from Nightmare Moon or her forces. Why waste energy on somepony content to drown the past in liquor and self-loathing? He’d done their job for them long ago. Blueblood played ball and stayed out of the way; that was more than enough.

How many, Rarity wondered, were like him? Like herself? Dash aside, how long had it been since Rarity had seen a smile of joy? Not appeasement, not conceit, irony, lust, nostalgia, ennui, acceptance, or contentment, but real unfiltered joy?

Equestria turned from frivolity and hollow hedonism, but it was not a crime to be happy. Not unless that happiness sprung from somewhere beyond the Night. It wasn’t a crime to love, so long as that love didn’t surpass the love for Nightmare Moon. But what the Nightmare had squeezed and wrenched from their hearts hadn’t been love. Not really. Moondancer, perhaps, genuinely loved her—or fallen down a deeper rabbit hole than Rarity. If such a difference existed.

Rainbow Dash poked her, and Rarity sat up with a jolt. She realized she’d gone quiet for the last few minutes. “Dash, I’ve been thinking.”

“Yeah, I noticed. You gonna let me in on that or what?”

She took Dash’s hooves into hers. Rarity opened her mouth, but the scope of what she’d learned couldn’t fit inside of it. Instead, it compressed into one simple sentence. “Lieutenant Rainbow Dash, this is wrong.”

“Wait—what?! No.” Dash popped into the air, still gasping Rarity’s hoof. Her wings beat so furiously they ruffled the paperback on the nightstand. “I know what Nightmare Moon says, what all of Equestria says, but what we’re doing isn’t wrong—they are!”

“Dash, that’s—”

“No.” Rainbow Dash grabbed Rarity’s other hoof and pulled her to her hind legs so that they faced nose to nose. “Listen, you just said you don’t feel scared when you’re with me. If I have anything to say about it, you’ll never be scared of anything ever again. Especially not Nightmare.”

“Rainbow—”

“You can’t give up on us now. And what for? To marry some drunk coward and dump out noblemares for Nightmare’s stupid phony court? No.” She kissed her quick on the tips of her white ears. “I can’t—I won’t let her do that to you. Not anymore. That bully took away the Wonderbolts, my parents, and with that creepy boarding school, she took Scootaloo. Nightmare Moon’s got enough. She doesn’t get to have you, too.”

Rarity pursed her lips. “That’s quite gallant of you, darling, but if you’ll only let me speak, that’s not what I meant.” They touched noses. “But I do appreciate the thought.”

“Oh.” Dash’s ears waggled awkwardly. “Not my fault you’re being vague and weird…”

“I mean this—” Rarity gestured to the window, the Kingdom of Night, and the ponies toiling within it. “All of this it’s wrong. It shouldn’t be.”

“Every world I come to is worse than the last!”

Rarity hummed under her breath. “I’m starting to think that madmare might have been the only sane pony in the country.”

“You believe all that whacked-out stuff about time travel and parallel worlds now?”

“Maybe. I think so. It’s insane, but what isn’t these nights?” Rarity raised an eyebrow. “Do you believe it?"

“My gut does, and my gut’s never wrong.” Dash’s mouth thinned into a grim slash. “And I know what I saw, and I saw that Nightmare Moon—”

“She believes it,” Rarity finished.

“A hundred percent. The time travel stuff, at least. That part’s real enough to drag the Guard through the Everfree searching for that glowy table, and when the alicorn vanished, I saw Nightmare’s face.” Her grip on Rarity’s hooves tightened. “It wasn’t like the Cadenza incidents—those made her angry, but this…” Dash froze. Her ears pinned flat against her head.

“What?”

“This scared her. Rarity, we gotta go. Now.”

Rarity fell back into bed, and blankets fell over her head when she landed. She rested her chin on her hooves, breathing in the comfort of her own little bed in her cage in the castle one last time. A part of her—specifically, the part that had stayed up for forty-eight hours—called her to close her eyes and sleep… but no.

Later. She’d sleep later. 

Shaking off the blankets, Rarity hopped out of bed, twitching her ears. The dungeon had gone silent, and it prickled her coat. Either Moondancer had set the ward back up… or Nightmare Moon had left the dungeon.

Rarity fetched a cloak from the armoire—standard dress for fugitives, and the pink stitches and purple lining reminded her of dearest Sweetie Belle—as she felt along the mantle for aberrations in the stone. “It’s quicker through the passageways.”

Rainbow Dash raised her eyebrows, as if she’d expected more pushback.

“I trust you.” There. Third brick from the end. She lit her horn and led the way into the passage. Their shadows curled up the walls and over the ceiling. “But I presume you have a plan in mind?”

Judging from the pause, Dash didn’t. Not a full one. “I wanted to bug out the southern corridor, but that’ll be swarming with Shadowbolts by now.” She glanced at their own shadows swishing above them. “They’re not real, you know. I mean they are but they’re not, like actual creatures. Just magic and shadows, but if you let ’em in, they’ll tear your mind in half.”

“Let them in?”

“Yeah.” The cramped walls barely left room for Dash to stretch her wings, much less fly. She cozied close to Rarity with her ears flat. “It’s a trick from Sombra, I think. Don’t remember how it works, but it’s got something to do with fear and they climb in through your mouth. So don’t scream, don’t think, just run. Run and don’t stop. It’ll be okay.” Dash raised her head high. Held a breath. Let it out. “We’ll be okay.”

Rarity nuzzled her cheek. “No doubt of it.” Angling her head, the hornlight dipped ahead to where the corridor forked three ways. They moved two floors above the dungeon, one below the library. A left here, then straight on till moonlight.

“This goes west, right?”

“Yes, into Everfree and the path to Ponyville. It opens up by the water lilies; I found it with Fluttershy.” She blinked at Dash’s expression. “At least, that’s how I remember it.”

Full moons made for a terrible getaway. Feathers and a rainbow mane doubly so. Dash’s abandoned armor would’ve been a boon for disguise, but Nightmare’s signature was scrawled all over it. They’d need to work with what they had. Warped and reconstructed Ponyville might be, but Rarity still knew her way around her hometown. They could hide, find Dash’s candy maker, and go from there.

Moondancer’s voice came through a crack in the wall. “…sky is the color of her coat, and the sky goes on forever.”

Rarity paused.

On the other side of the wall, Viceroy Moondancer steepled her hooves at the archive desk. A pile of white ash rose in the glow of her magic, pasting itself together. Paper reformed and rebuilt. The burnt confessional. “I hoped that might show some sign of remorse, as the edited devotionals had, but—”

A second shadow fell over Moondancer’s desk. “I’d been warned what would happen if I strayed too close to the sun. I can’t claim ignorance, and I cannot claim naivety. I knew. I just didn’t care.”

“Yes.” The Viceroy shook her head with a sigh. “It’s a cut-and-dried Heartcrime.” She looked straight at the crack in the wall. “What a pity.”

Rarity and Rainbow Dash met eyes. One thought between them: run.

Stealth wouldn’t help them now. They fled through the hollow arteries of Castle Midnight, the clack of their hooves echoing in their ears.

Black yielded to grey.

There. A pinprick of moonlight. The scent of grass sweet and waiting for them.

It had been years since Rarity felt healthy sun-fed fresh grass, but the memory of it held fast. Yes. Grass and rainbows and violets and luxury fabrics in an unlimited color palette. Rarity’s fear melted like cheap vinyl. She surged forward, Dash galloping at her shoulder.

Rainbow Dash grinned the way she had that night in the gorge. “Heads up—we’ve got company.”

Guards clanked single-file behind them. How close, Rarity didn’t know, but the corridor still squeezed tight. If Dash couldn’t fly, neither could they. The speck of light bloomed wider. They could make it, but just in case…

With a toss of her head, Rarity shot a bolt of magic behind them. Light ricocheted off the spell-proofed armor, a firefly in the dark. It bounced against the millennia-old stone, and—

CRACK!

The impact nearly threw them off their hooves. Rarity dared a glance back. Her hornlight skimmed a pile of rubble blocking the path behind them.

Dash laughed her ember-pop laugh. “I didn’t know you could do that!”

“I told the mason to reinforce these old passageways dozens of times. For once, I’m glad she didn’t listen to me.” There was enough light that they didn’t need Rarity’s horn anymore. “I expect we’ll meet a welcome party outside, though.”

“Maybe.” Dash’s wings flexed, itching to stretch. “The Guard’s spread thin all over, though, and a third are outta commission between the Sunwise attack and Her Royal Nag-ness’s tantrums. We got an eighty-twenty chance—maybe even ninety-thirty.”

“Those numbers don’t add up!”

“Hey, leave the numbers to the eggheads.” Silhouettes massed around the exit. Dash’s grin clenched. “And leave the crunching to me!” She flapped her wings, tucked her legs, and swung into a swift arc up and out of the castle.

Clusters of bat-winged bodies broke and scattered. Regrouped. A rainbow in the dark ducked and sliced through the swarm. “Go, Rares! I’ll hold ’em back!”

Rarity galloped through the thickets of Everfree Forest, grey sweeps of her cape billowing behind her. Under the merciless moonlight, shadows stretched at her heels. Stretched longer than they ought.

Rarity’s shadow slipped and fell away, twisting and reshaping itself. Eyes glinted ahead of her. Dozens, dozens of glowing eyes in the dark.

Shadowbolts. A line—one, two, nine of them—barred the bridge between the Everfree and Ponyville. Between Rarity and safety.

Chills clawed at her.

Night Chamberlain Rarity.

Their terrible chorus snaked through her heart. She ran faster.

Her Royal Majesty requests your presence.

Rarity’s blood screamed for her to stop. Apologize. Fall to her hooves. Recant. Their eyes shone yellow over her face. Memories of silk and the sun shone brighter. 

“So sorry, but I’m afraid I must decline.” Rarity burst through the Shadowbolts. She may as well have run through smoke and fog.

A new shadow swooped overhead. “Hey!” Dash dropped to fly at her side. Not a scratch on her, aside from the mussed hair. “You miss me?”

“Always.”

The streets of Ponyville lay empty before them. Damn it all, Rarity had forgotten about the curfew. In the castle or otherwise on royal business, she’d never had to worry about it.

“So much for blending in.” Dash twitched her ears. “Doesn’t matter anyway.” She jabbed her chin toward the silhouette watching them. “There’s more company.”

Rarity huffed. “And us without refreshments.” They braced haunch to haunch, ready to face whatever danger awaited them.

“Heh. Looks like somepony’s ready for round two.” The figure stepped into the moonlight: a familiar white stallion dressed in sky blue, with a mane and tail to match. Shining Armor shot them a sneer—a challenge, not a threat. He looked good for somepony who’d spent a moon in the dungeon. “But I’m afraid we’ll need to take a raincheck on the rematch, Dash. Somepony else has a couple of questions for you.”

Mi Amore Cadenza landed behind them, minus one trench coat but still bearing that fabulous hat. “Why, good evening lovebirds.” The hat tilted upwards, and she blinked down at them with gentle blue eyes. “We meet at last, Lieutenant Dash. Oh, but where’s your armor? Or your uniform, Night Chamberlain?”

“Slowed me down. Wanted a change of pace.” Rainbow Dash pressed close enough for Rarity to feel the quick pulse under her coat. “What about you? Just passing through?”

Rarity peered above Shining Armor’s head to the black windows behind him. Curfew or not, Ponyville still should have had some activity. A night watchmare, some smoke filtering out of chimneys, or silhouettes shifting behind lit windows. Servants tossing out the trash. A stray cat sniffing around the trashcans. Something. Had the last few nights shuttered the town completely?

“Something like that. I like to come through town and keep an eye out for all those dangerous heart criminals and traitors. You could call love my specialty.” Grinning, Cadenza turned to the Bureau of Family Planning down the block. “Defectors are common in this area… lovers determined to follow their hearts, secret followers of Daybreaker…” She turned her eyes on Rarity. “Though I think you might know her by another name.”

The grey hood slipped off Rarity's head. “Are you here to offer us safety?” Caution be damned, they should have taken the offer back in Canterlot. If nothing else, they’d have other ponies instead of running on their own.

“I am,” Cadenza said.

Dash and Rarity exchanged looks. Where else could they go? The candy maker had been a long shot from the beginning, and the path from there to freedom probably crossed Sunwise along the way anyhow.

A second wave of Night Guards plumed out of Castle Midnight. The great cloud of them covered the pastel moon, thrice the number Dash fought off earlier.

“Tick tock, lovebirds.” Mi Amore Cadenza smiled. “You can come with me, or you can go back.”

“Those options suck, you know that, right?” Dash looked to Rarity, who sighed and nodded. “But if those are all we’ve got… yeah. Yeah, we’ll come.”

“It’s kind of you to extend the offer again, Cadenza,” Rarity said.

Her pink ears twitched at “again.” She chuckled. “I hoped you might say that. My friends call me Cadance.” The alicorn bowed her head to them, moonlight glinting off the sun brooch on her hat. “I hope you know what this means, ladies. You’ll be criminals. Fugitives. You’ll never be safe in this kingdom, or anywhere else.”

Dash narrowed her eyes. “We’re not safe now. We never were.”

Shining Armor stepped up. “Even so, you’re defecting from Moon’s forces; you know what that means. Is all that worth it? For just one pony?”

Rarity’s eyes had never left Cadance’s brooch. The little metal sun shone bronze and gold, with a carnelian in the center. When they’d met in Canterlot, the center was made of amber. Her stomach sank. She looked again at the Ponyville surrounding them: abandoned, lifeless, an empty stage waiting for the players.

“Yes.” Both of them said it, though who said it first, Rarity couldn’t tell. Despite her growing dread, she didn’t tremble. Rarity took some pride in that.

It had all happened so conveniently. A perfect little line of scenarios. Slipping through the corridors undetected. Dash defeating every guard single-hooved, despite the guards’ armor and her flying naked as a jay. The fact that they’d just happened to overhear Moondancer list their crimes while they passed by at just the right time. 

And it all passed so swiftly, one location bleeding into the other without notice.

As if in a dream.

“Dash…”

Rainbow’s long bright tail curled around hers and held tight. “I know.” Her wings flared as she braced into a battle stance.

Cadance chuckled. “That’s cute. You know, a little birdie told me you’ve seen Shining’s sister around lately. You’ve seen her a lot.” She lounged on her side, sprawling over a cozy velvet pillow. Tresses of her soft tail curled under Rarity’s chin. “Maybe we can help each other out.”

“We’ve seen her, but we don’t know anything more than y—” 

The tail lashed around Rarity’s throat. “I said you’re cute.” It squeezed. “Don’t get adorable.”

Dash flapped hard enough for a minor windstorm, but she couldn’t budge. The cobblestones had absorbed all four hooves into them, as if the pegasus had been built there. “Look, it’s just been in dreams. Stupid dreams, that’s all! They don’t mean anything.”

Cadance tilted her head. “I think we all know better than that.” The alicorn’s tail lifted, letting Rarity’s hooves dangle in the air.

“That doesn’t mean we know what they mean. We don’t know anything.” Rarity could only manage a hoarse whisper. Something sharp pressed into her, but she couldn’t see what it was. “We don’t!”

“Very well.” The tail lifted away, but pressure still squeezed against Rarity’s throat. Cadance removed her hat, still all cashmere smiles. Her teeth sharpened. Her coat darkened. The pupils of her blue eyes thinned to slits. “We’ll do this the hard way.”





Rarity crashed to the floor. A ring of iron circled her neck, lined with tiny metal spikes hooked deep into her skin. The prickled fur at her collarbone felt wet, but she couldn’t angle her head to see. Above her, a chain wound from her collar to a hook in the ceiling and down again.

It ended at the hooves of Nightmare Moon, who watched her on the other side of the dungeon’s bars. “Hello again, lovebirds. Did we have a nice nap?” Inches from where Rarity lay, a tendril of the Nightmare’s mane pressed a hyperventilating Rainbow Dash against the stone. The stars of her mane illuminated the harsh contours of Dash’s face. “It’s been so long since you’ve had a good night’s sleep; I thought I’d help.”

When had they fallen asleep? It had to be before the castle corridors, but after Dash remembered the race from her foalhood. Rarity recalled the soft call of her sheets as they’d fallen over her… then, perhaps. Dash must have gone under after that.

“I enjoyed your daring romantic escape. I admit, the one-liners were a nice touch.” A string of magic idly stroked the links of Rarity’s chain. “Pity you don’t dream more often, Rainbow Dash. Who knew you were such an artist?”

Dash said nothing and stared helplessly at the wet, prickly—bloody?—fur at Rarity’s neck. Aside from the usual scars and nicks, she herself was untouched.

The chain clinked as it slowly drew up, pulling Rarity to her hind hooves. Spikes pressed into the soft hollow of her throat.

Nightmare Moon blinked slowly. “What do we say, Lieutenant?”

“THANK you!” It spurted between Rainbow’s teeth like blood. “Thank you so much, your majesty. I-it was so generous of you.”

“Yes, it was. Especially for such treacherous, selfish little ponies.” No laughter curled in the words. No sinister smiles or cackling threats. Nightmare Moon only watched them, calm as an empty, bloody cradle. “I want to know something.”

“I told you before, I don’t know that mare! I-I mean I saw her once when I was a kid, sometimes weird stuff pops in my head and she shows up, but that’s it. I don’t—we don’t know anything more than you do.”

The Nightmare sneered. “You’re a liar. A liar, a blowhard, and a gloryhound—I offered you splendor and honor, yet you spit it back in my face. You never loved me. Not once.” Her muzzle wrinkled, fangs whetted. “You’ve had the sun in your heart from the beginning.”

Metal teeth sank into Rarity’s neck. She heard herself scream. Behind her, Rainbow’s protests collapsed into a panicked jumble of syllables and shouts.

“Ah, but my dear chamberlain. You, at least, tried so hard to be good. You’re as foul as the rest, but you did try. There’s still an honest pony in you, I think.”

Rarity’s scream died in her throat as the chain lifted higher. She couldn’t feel the ground anymore.

“Now to find it.”

Rarity had never trained in wards, magic blocks, or mind guarding, and for the most part, neither had Dash. Nightmare Moon could comb through a treasure trove of secrets with a glass of warm milk and another stroll through the dreamscape. Dungeon interrogations would get her next to nothing.

It didn’t matter what they knew.

The Nightmare had been humiliated by some wet-behind-the-ears upstart alicorn. An upstart with the power to turn her utopia of night upside down and inside out with a merry jog through the fabric of time. The alicorn had known their names, even if they didn’t know hers. Somewhere, in some other place or time, they mattered to her.

But more than that, Nightmare Moon was indeed afraid. Afraid of something or someone she had no power to stop. Somepony, anypony, had to pay for that fear.

The metal teeth dug deeper. Rarity sensed that something had punctured, but she barely felt it.

A great tremble ran through the castle, and the dungeon seemed to lurch like a boat on choppy waters. Through Rarity’s blurred vision, Nightmare Moon dropped the chain and jumped back, glaring at the moldy ceiling above her.

“Majesty!” Hoofbeats clambered down the stairs. “It’s happening again!” The dungeon lurched again, and in the dark, somepony new shrieked. “I-I’ve looked th-through every s-scroll I could find but I—w-we burned so many of—I don’t know what we’re going to do. There’s got to be someth—CHAMBERLAIN!”

Rarity groaned. She sprawled on the wet stone—wet with what, she didn’t want to know—and coughed. Voices echoed around her, as if all of them had been trapped inside a thousand tin cans. One of them belonged to Moondancer.

The unicorn huddled behind Nightmare Moon, clutching the tyrant’s hind leg for dear life. “Chamberlain, you have to help us.” She stared at them, wild-eyed in the starlight of the Nightmare’s tail. “Rarity, please, we-we’re friends, aren’t we? You have to fix this!”

Fix what? What did she—?

Rarity’s eyes creaked open all the way. She looked up.

Oh.

Above them, the ceiling—the sky? the world?—was ripping. Not all at once, but slowly, like a skirt caught in an elevator door rips. Caught fast and pulled in the other direction, the fabric of reality couldn’t keep up.

Or at least, that was Rarity’s best guess for the gash of light tearing the castle from dungeon to turret. It blazed so bright her eyes watered—so bright she could hear it, a thin reedy whine in the back of her teeth. It sounded like biting into aluminum foil felt. 

The dungeon trembled so fast they barely felt it. Vibrations upon vibrations upon vibrations. 

Moondancer’s outline stuttered, doubling, tripling, quadrupling on itself like overlapping slides in a projector, all in different manestyles, and most of them afraid. “Y-you’re both a part of this—the time convergence. Please. Rarity, please, it’s getting worse! Just tell us how to fix it, and th—there’s got to be something we—” Moondancer hid behind her hooves and sobbed.

Nightmare Moon frowned at her. “Come, Moondancer. Try to have a brave face.” She nuzzled the unicorn’s mane.

In a blink, Rarity saw the image reflected five different ways with five different alicorns comforting their students. Three out of those five were the unicorn Twilight… Sparkle? Yes. That sounded like the right name.

“I don’t think we can hem this stitch, Viceroy,” Rarity croaked. Distantly, she felt the chain lift her. When she opened her eyes again, she dangled just above Nightmare Moon’s horn.

In the corner of Rarity’s eye, Rainbow Dash cursed and thrashed and kicked against the tendril of mane that pinned her to the trembling wall. Her hooves swam through the thinning little nebula—so thin it had become sheerer than chiffon. She’d break free soon.

Iron teeth bit deep into Rarity’s skin. Fine. Let the Nightmare throw a fit. It wouldn’t change anything, and everypony here knew it. “I think…” She smiled, giddy and stupid from it all. “We’re what’s being fixed.” She blinked at her foreleg, and for a moment, she saw it in ten different sleeves and fabrics. The grey jumpsuit was her least favorite.

“You’re one of hers.” Nightmare Moon trembled with rage and terror and sorrow. The great stomp of her hoof left a crater in the stone. “I KNEW you were one of hers! Even now, Celestia has to ruin EVERYTHING I do—everything I build!” She bared her teeth at the wounded sky. “You couldn’t let it be, could you? You’d rip time and space apart because for once—for ONCE, they loved me more than you!”

The sky split wider.

Her Royal Majesty, Equestria’s “best beloved” Princess Nightmare Moon sank to her knees. “Why can’t you let me have this?”

Rarity felt herself drop, but she never hit the floor. She slowly squinted at the horrid wounds staining her coat, then the mourning tyrant on the other side of the bars. 

But above her, it was beautiful. Rainbows and the blue of the sky. Rainbow Dash’s face. In the pulsing jitter of the world, she saw several versions of Dash’s face—in daring manecuts, green face paint, eyepatches, helmets, glasses, and pirate hats—all of them lovely. 

It hurt to laugh, but Rarity did it anyway. “You always catch me, don’t you?” She wanted to say more, but her throat hurt and they didn’t have the time. Instead, she kissed the bottom of Dash’s jaw. The poor dear had been crying. “I think you’re cool too, Rainbow Dash.” She’d meant to say it weeks ago, back in the infirmary. “I always did.”

“I’m sorry, Rarity. I didn’t mean to fall asleep, it just happened and… and…” It didn’t matter. Moments to the end of the world as they knew it, not much did. Dash buried her face in Rarity's mane. “Twilight better be right… she’s usually right about stuff. I think. Whatever’s on the other side, I hope it’s better than this.”

Behind them, the fabric of the universe tore wide open. Great and endless, so bright everything and everypony became silhouettes. 

Daybreak. It was the second most beautiful thing in the room.

“I’ll see you in the morning, Rainbow.”

“You know it.” Dash met her in a kiss. “I love—”
> A Hard Day's Night (Epilogue)
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“—you can’t just come barging into my workshop, this is not a raceway!” Rarity groaned at the sight of her brand-new shutters, now torn off the hinges and splintered to pieces. 

Morning air rushed through the window, scattering design plans across the boutique and into the waiting paws of Opalescence, who took great joy in pouncing upon the winter line. The cat let out a petulant meow as Rarity’s magic scooted her into another room. 

Gathering the designs into a hasty pile, Rarity huffed and turned to give a piece of her mind. “If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times, but it never seems to stick. At the absolute least, Rainbow Dash, you could have used the door and… oh.” She removed her work glasses, studying Dash’s face. The shutters and scattered designs and the unfurled bolts of fabric were forgotten. “Darling, have you been crying?”

“What? No, of course not.” Rainbow blinked her bloodshot eyes and frowned at her hooves. “Flying supersonic speeds without goggles gets you teary-eyed, that’s all. Sorry about your shop.” She peered over Rarity’s withers, poking at her collarbone and prodding under her mane.

“What are you—watch the coiffure. Come here. Stay still.” Rarity’s magic brushed Rainbow’s bangs out of her eyes. She’d left without brushing her mane… or her teeth, from the smell of it. “Please, what’s the matter? Has something happened?”

“No. I mean, yeah, but that’s not…” Rainbow scratched at her messy mane. “I had a bad dream, okay?”

“Oh? What about?” Come to think of it, she’d had a dream of her own, last night—something about sewing ugly jumpsuits or drab wall hangings (or both) and nopony would let her change the color palette.

Dash glanced over her again. “Doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it does! It’s clearly upset you, and you’ve already flown all this way.” Rarity’s emergency comb smoothed Dash’s split ends and cowlicks.  “You need a warm drink and—ooh, we could visit the spa, and don’t try to argue, you know you love the spa.”

“Rarity—”

“Oh fine, we’ll come in through the back. Nopony will see you.”

Rainbow shied from the comb, wrinkling her nose as it followed her. “That’s not the only reason I stopped by. AJ says Twilight needs us at the castle, pronto. Starlight Glimmer’s back and—what are you doing to my head?”

“Tidying it.” Rarity sprayed a shot of dry shampoo, waited for it to settle, and rubbed it in. “What is Starlight doing all the way in Ponyville?” She’d fled into the mountains, the last time they’d seen her.

“Dunno, but it can’t be good.” Dash flicked her ears at the spritz of manespray. “But since I’m headed over there anyway, you wanna walk with me? Maybe? Also, sorry about your window.”

Rainbow Dash frowned at her clean-pressed mane in the reflection of a mirror. She looked ready for jury duty, and if not for Dash’s nightmare, Rarity might have been tempted to let it stay that way. 

“You already apologized for the window.” Two quick ruffles of Rarity’s hoof, and Rainbow’s mane flopped into its natural shape. Perfect.

“Oh… well, I’m sorry anyway.”

Two hours behind on her order for Bon Bon’s gala dress and three days behind on Fashion Week’s preliminary sketches, Rarity had no time for disasters or leisurely walks. Fortunately, a lady knew how to work close to the wire. A lady had priorities, too. “I’d love nothing more.”

Rarity closed shop, and they walked down the road together.

The long way to Twilight’s castle eased past Town Hall and through the farmer’s market. Background chatter and vegetable haggling buzzed around them, filling in the silence between them. Not an unpleasant or uneasy silence, but the satisfying quiet of a bubble bath. Peaceful.

Rarity raised an eyebrow. Since when was Rainbow Dash peaceful after a summons to the castle? And under such circumstances? “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather fly?”

“I can fly back later.” Dash shifted closer and waved her over. “Hey. C’mere a sec.” In front of the entire market, with no regard for her “street cred,” Rainbow Dash kissed Rarity on the nose.

Rarity blinked. It happened so fast, she wondered if she’d imagined it.

Beside her, Rainbow had fallen back, staring straight ahead in a fresh composite of brazen delight and the urge to hide under a blanket for the next twenty years. Her ears fidgeted as if they couldn’t settle on a direction.

“Why, Miss Rainbow Dash! To what do I owe this sudden display of public affection?” Not that she was complaining… was she? No, she wasn’t. Not at all. Before Dash had the chance to change her mind, Rarity leaned into her and nuzzled.

Their tails swept over each other. If Rainbow noticed the explosion of whispers and bustling gossip from the flower stand, she didn’t show it. She cleared her throat, smirked, and shifted back in step as she’d done this every day. 

“No reason.” Rainbow rolled her wings in the morning sun, let the left one settle on Rarity’s shoulder, and smiled at her. “Just wanted everypony to see how much I love ya.”