//------------------------------//
// What We Do In the Night 
// Story: The Rising Night 
// by Sixes_And_Sevens 
//------------------------------//

The meeting hall was silent, but the tension was as unto a thunderstorm. The Chancellor’s brow was heavy and dark as the night. At length, he spoke, and did so with none of his usual good humor. “Oi trust,” he began, “tha’ ye have ‘eard tell o’ the death o’ ‘Oney Mead.”
Murmurs of assent echoed throughout the chamber. “In light o’ th’ recent deaths, it ‘as become necessary t’ select a plan o’ action. ‘Ave Oi any suggestions?”
Councilor Barley banged his hoof on the table. “Three ponies ‘ave died, Chancellor! We must take action ‘gainst the killers!”
Councilor Smart Cookie leaned forward in his seat. “Know thou wha’ has done this?” he asked.
Barley scowled. “These murders could only be done by them wi’ magic o’ th’ unicorns, speed o’ th’ pegasi, and knowledge o’ th’ earth ponies. There are naught but two beings in the world ‘oo may ‘ave that power, and they are both in this town! Celestia an’ Luna must die!”
Murmurs of shock echoed through the assembled councilors, and Chancellor Puddinghead looked taken aback. 	“Barley,” he began, “We’ve nae proof—”
“But who else could it be?” cried Councilor Slate, her voice desperate. “I second th’ motion!”
“Any discussion?” the Chancellor asked hopefully.
“Aye,” came a voice.
“Th’ court recognizes th’ hon’rable Councilor Oat Cake,” Chancellor Puddinghead said, relieved.
“Oi fink we ought to find tha’ pegasus what were snoopin’ round earlier,” he rumbled. “‘E might ‘ave summat t’ do wif this too.”
The Chancellor leaned forward. “Now see ‘ere,” he began, but was overwhelmed with shouts. He banged the gavel up and down to no avail, until the table let out a sickening crunch and snapped right down the middle. The room fell silent, aside from the Chancellor’s labored breathing. “We— cannae— jest— go— killin’— ponies— on suspicion,” he wheezed. “Now, let us say ye be right aboot th’ sisters and th’ Professor bein’ killers, which seems more’n a bit unlikely to Oi. Well, we can arrest ‘em, sure enough, an’ if somepony else dies, we’ll know it ain’t them. Right?”
“An’ if nopony dies, then it was!” cried somepony else.
“No,” the Chancellor began, but was once more overwhelmed by the voices of the council. He met Smart Cookie’s eyes. 	They were wide and confused. He shook his head. Never had any of the councilors ever acted this way before.
“The hunt is on!” one shouted.
With a roar, the assembled honorable councilors swept out of the building, apart from three. Barley Corn stood at the door, smirking at the Chancellor and Councilor Cookie. “At last,” he sighed, a blissful look in his eyes, “Sanity is restored.” 	Then he, too, went off to join the baying hounds charging for the forest.


***


The Doctor was caught first. They were already heading back toward the town, and were more than slightly taken aback to find themself at the mercy of an angry mob. “Ouch!” they shouted as a hoof connected with their cheek. “There’s no need for such violence— Ouch! Ruffians! Renengades! Rhubarb! I’ll come quietly!”
They were sent limping back to town, flanked by a trio of ponies. Their left eye was swelling up, and their body was covered with bruises. One of their wings hung at an awkward angle. All of that stung less, to their mind, than the unforeseen nature of the attack. Were they losing their touch? Well. If they were or not, they knew what would come next. The Doctor looked back into the woods, silently hoping that the two young mares that lived within its confines would be safe.
But with one of their quarry downed, the pack continued onward, baying for the blood of their enemies.


***

Luna woke up to the sound of shouts, and found that yes, waking up with a sword at your throat is exactly as bad as it sounds. Maybe worse when the one holding the sword is one of the  stallions one had been crushing on, a twisted expression of anger and victory sculpted across his features. “Nae sudden moves, wench, or I’ll slice ye clear open,” he snarled around the sword.

Celestia didn’t go quietly. Perhaps it is for the best if we leave it at that. The only thing more dangerous, vicious, and bloody-minded than an armed and angry mob, after all, is a wounded, armed, and angry mob.


***

When Celestia woke up again, she had to blink a few times. Her mane was bloodied, and it had dried across her eyes. With a hoof, she brushed it away, nearly crying out as pain shot through her bruised, broken body. She couldn’t see out of one eye, as it had swollen shut. With her good eye, she saw her little sister playing a game of cards with… “Doctor,” she said flatly. There was no rage this time, no suspicion, merely resignation.
They glanced up. “Oh, good morning, Celestia,” they said. “It is still morning, I believe?”
“What— what ‘appened?”
Luna sighed. “The whole town thinks we did for Pease Porridge, Dowsing Stick, an’ Honey Mead, Councilor Barley convinced th' council to arrest us, and the Doctor is learning me to play Up and Down the River.”
The Doctor shuffled the deck. “Yes, and she told me a very interesting story about the other night,” he said. “Mysterious 	voices from the shadows, tempting her into the darkness… Very odd, wouldn’t you say?”
“Twas just a nightmare,” Luna said, eyes downcast.
“Hm. Nightmares can have rrrather more power than we give them credit for,” the Doctor replied, shuffling the deck.
“I don’t—” Celestia began, but stopped when the door to the cell opened. A trio of councilors walked in, Barley Corn at the forefront.
“Yes?” the Doctor asked, before a hoof smacked him across the face.
“Shut up,” growled the orange mare who had struck him.
Barley glared at each of the prisoners in turn. “Oi like not any o’ ye,” he said. “But Oi be of a fair mind. Confess now, an we’ll give ye a quick death.”
Nopony spoke. “What, none of ye craven canker-blossoms will turn tail?” he taunted.
“I thought thou wanted us to shut up,” Celestia said poisonously.
In an instant, Barley had her smashed up against the wall. “Clever mare, art thou?” he asked, his eyes dark and dangerous. “Oh, clever, clever… not so clever now, is ye? Wouldn’t be so clever if I were to do this!” He struck her directly on the horn, and she responded by shoving him away into his cohorts, so hard they went sprawling from the cell.
“Touch. Me. Not,” Celestia roared, her eyes faintly glowing.
Barley stood. “I’ll see ye suffer,” he growled. “I’ll see ye dead, wench!”
“Good-bye,” the Doctor said, gently closing the door behind them.
Celestia felt her legs wobble, and fell to the ground, tears streaming from her face. Her body was wracked by silent sobs, each one bringing fresh pain from her injuries. Luna sat at her side, holding her sister tight. The Doctor, sensing that this was something in which they should not be involved at present, simply sat, staring out the window at the sun. It was at its zenith, now. But it wouldn’t remain there for long.