//------------------------------//
// Act III ~ Chapter Twenty-Five ~ Family 
// Story: Spectrum 
// by Sledge115 
//------------------------------//



Spectrum





The Team



TheIdiot



DoctorFluffy



VoxAdam



Sledge115



RoyalPsycho



TB3



Kizuna Tallis



ProudToBe









Chapter Twenty-Five


Family





Dedicated to Mary Jane Begin





* * * * *





“Democracy is not the law of the majority but the protection of the minority.”
— Carnets III, Mars 1951 - Décembre 1959, by Albert Camus







~ The Crystal Realm, Northern Domain of Equestria ~ Day 15 of the Convocation ~ Twenty-Fourth Day of the Month of Rophon, Year 3 of the Era Harmoniae ~

When she’d reclaimed the Crystal Throne, Cadance had soon discovered she faced three immediate concerns. Firstly, how the crystalponies would reintegrate into a world that had moved on a thousand years. Secondly, though she came from Amore’s line, whether they’d accept her as ruler. And, thirdly, a combination of the prior two concerns – what place would her new realm occupy on the world stage?

The former questions had proven less a worry than she’d thought. She should have known that if Luna could return and be accepted as Princess by Equestria, her birthright would hold true in the Crystal Realm.

Now the issue of its relations with the rest of the world stood before her in the flesh.

“I do wish I could stay longer, Your Highness,” said Lady Amira, her eyes tracing over the crystalline structure of the station. “Crystal and glass aren’t a strange sight in my country, but I’d never thought I’d live to see a whole city of it… If my esteemed husband were here, he’d have more to say than I ever could.”

It was diplomatic flattery, of course, yet spoken sincerely. Cadance allowed a small smile. It did not escape her notice, however, that both the ambassador and the filly by her side were draped in a double layer of caparisons. Although the weather within the magical dome was what she considered cozy, it required passage through a blizzard to reach. Accustomed to the desert, the Saddle Mareabians would be feeling a constant chill, even under the dome.

Cadance had to wonder how the girl to be her ward, Hadia, felt about that. Having lived all her life in blazing-hot Saddle Mareabia, what would it mean, getting sent this far up North? Possibly like exile to the edge of the world.

“Thanks, Milady,” she replied, shoving away that thought for now. “I… understand you may only be able to visit my ward at certain intervals. But you’ll be welcome at any time.”

She didn’t mention what she knew about Qabil al-Husan. He was the girl’s father, and that was all that mattered. More worrisome was the looming threat from another world.

‘I’m receiving a lot of new guests later,’ Cadance thought, pondering the other passengers who’d arrived on the Crystal Express.

A prisoner and his guards. Captain Plow of the Imperial Trailblazers, captured in Boston. She’d negotiated with Amethyst Star to take him in. Him, and another. Spike. Larger than the little infant drake she knew, so horribly twisted by the Tyrant… 

Any plans she had for a child with Shining would be on hold for the foreseeable future. In a way, Lady Amira’s fosterage proposal was a boon. A chance to spend another three years doing what she’d always done best.

“I thank you for your consideration,” Amira said, bowing her head. “It means so much to me and to dear Hadia’s mother, if you would let her accompany me on these visits.” 

“Of course.” Cadance brightened. This was closer to her comfort zone. “She’s more than free to.” 

“Lady Tahira would definitely appreciate that,” Amira chuckled a little. “She worries so about her daughter’s growth as a young lady.” Hers eyes turned serious. “She has, in fact, prepared a full curriculum, with assistance of my own son, to ensure Hadia doesn’t slip in her studies. I’ve taken the liberty to prepare a copy.” 

“Oh. Well, thank you.”

This also wasn’t unfamiliar to Cadance. She’d babysat enough children of gentry and go-getters that she understood how many parents expected the world from their children. 

“Now, I suppose proper introductions are in order.” Amira gestured, and the filly stepped forward carefully. 

The filly in question was taller and lankier than a pony her age would be, giving away her horse heritage. Her coat was of subdued blood-orange with hints of crimson, whilst her mane and tail, tied into ponytails, were pitch-black. Like Amira, the caparisons she wore were richly-coloured light greens shaded with off-colour yellow, accentuating her body’s darker colours. Her head was adorned by a cloth circlet which Cadance recognised as the frame for a face-veil, though the circlet’s thinness meant such a veil would have been gauzy. There, Cadance saw Hadia was the rare she-horse with a horn.

But what actually got Cadance's attention was the anxious frown on her face. Hadia was trying to hide behind a poise not uncommon to Canterlot’s upper-classes, but her real feelings were filtering through. 

“This is my dear spouse and sister-wife’s daughter, Hadia-bint-Tahira of House al-Husan,” Amira intoned with indulgent warmth, looking down and smiling encouragingly. “And this, Hadia,” Amira turned back to Cadance, “is Princess Mi Amore Cadenza.” 

“It’s an honour to meet you, Your Highness,” Hadia said. Her voice was small and sweet – and the nervousness amplified by the tremor in it.

“And it’s nice to meet you,” Cadance replied, bobbing her head in greeting, “young lady.”

She complemented her words with a slight curtsy. Hadia seemed surprised, which Cadance had expected – ordinarily, this show of respect was required of her ward, not the other way around. But at a glance from Amira, Hadia curtsied in turn.

The girl did smile, yet it looked forced and thin around the edges.

“Now, Hadia,” Amira began as she turned back to the filly, “your mother expects you to keep up with your studies in your time here. I should visit in another month, with news of your father. Your mother and Aynuk shall be doing the same around that time, so be on your best behaviour for Her Highness.” 

“Yes, Lady Amira,” Hadia said. 

“We are willing to offer of our own porters,” Amira offered, “to bring Hadia’s luggage up to your palace, if you would like the assistance.”

Cadance risked a glance towards the train, to see several well-dressed horses standing by a large collection of bags, boxes and cases. 

“That won’t be a problem.” Cadance said politely. “My majordomo can take care of that. But I thank you for the offer.” 

On cue, Autumn Gem, flanked by two members of her staff, approached the convoy. Whilst they began conversing with Amira’s servants, Cadance returned her attention to the foreign nobility.

Amira seemed quick to move on. “Fair play,” she said. “Here is the copy of Hadia’s schedule that I’d mentioned.”

She proffered a collection of papers bound together. Cadance took the notes to look them over. Everything was written in small, tight lettering. It constituted an extensive lists of dates and times, which detailed every little thing Hadia’s mother wanted her daughter to accomplish. 

“This is… thorough,” Cadance said. The schedule could have given Twilight a run for her money, especially at Hadia’s age. 

“Lady Tahira expects the best from her children,” Amira said somewhat sardonically. “Not that I have any right to complain, of course.” 

Quietly, Cadance finished skim-reading the papers. With a sigh, she clapped them together and looked up.

“You have my word that I’ll see Hadia follows her schedule assiduously,” Cadance told Amira. “But, with all due respect, these timetables appear to set little focus on socialisation… Other than lessons on etiquette.”

“I did tell Lady Tahira she should allow for some leeway,” Amira said, her tone not betraying whether she agreed with Cadance. “This is, after all, your household. Yet she’ll know how closely her schedule has been followed.”

Cadance’s mind raced. “Would Her Ladyship deem it acceptable,” she said cautiously, “if I’m able to find uses for her daughter’s time that might actually exceed expectations?”

“Why, I don’t see why she wouldn’t,” Amira said brightly. “What do you have in mind?”

“I’m not sure yet,” Cadance admitted. “But given all we’ve learned about magic in Equestria over the last few years, to say nothing of the encounter with humanity… we may all be required to rethink what we believe in.”

“That is true,” said Amira, but now she was looking sterner. “However, I must inform you of a final specification Lady Tahira made. Considering the many unknowns involved… she does not want Hadia involved in contact with the Thirteenth Family, unless she gives her daughter express permission.”

Licking her lips, Cadance thought back to all she’d seen in Boston, Appleton, and Jarden. The prisoner Trailblazer and the Spike whose healing she was to aid in, both of whom she had placed in a secluded area of the Citadel, far from living quarters.

“I understand. Well. Music, arithmetic, geometry, astronomy...” Cadance said, reciting from memory what had been on the list of studies. “Grammar, logic, rhetoric… Etiquette… Magic… A heavy curriculum, make no mistake, but I’m sure we can manage.”

What she didn’t tell Amira was that ‘magic’ comprised a broad topic. In fact, by modern criteria, many of these fine arts were unnecessary or backward, even for the gentry. With luck, this might give her wiggle-room. No surprise that ‘magic’ should be vaguely-defined, considering how rare true mages were in Saddle Mareabia.

Cadance didn’t know much about Lady Tahira of House al-Husan, yet she’d heard the mare came from a prestigious family of textile artisans. She wondered if Hadia might show a proficiency in weaving dreams. That’d be fun. 

Throughout all this, Hadia had merely stood by, silent and shuffling. Maybe even shivering. Cadance felt a pang. In all likelihood, it was nervousness, but perhaps not only that. Even under her double caparison, the girl must be cold. Amira hid it far better, yet she too must have been feeling displaced, so far from her desert home.

“Alright,” said Cadance, gingerly tucking the notes under her wing. “If that is all, Lady Amira, I’ll be glad to take in Hadia. The Convocation will benefit from your speedy return. And, Hadia,” she added, smiling softly at the girl, “take the time you need to say your goodbyes. I’ll just go and arrange our carriage.”

Amira nodded. “I’ll be here.”

To Cadance’s satisfaction, when she went to check on Autumn Gem, her majordomo had performed the feat of moving all the luggage where it needed to go. A small procession of carts would take care of that – her carriage had to travel as light and comfy as it could. Assured all was in order, Cadance convened with her staff beneath the arched doorway a minute more than necessary, before she returned to her guests.

The al-Husans were right where she’d left them, though now Hadia stood in front of Amira, her back to Cadance. They looked like they’d just finished talking in their language, when Amira raised her head in Cadance’s direction and the girl spun around. Hadia looked stressed, as if she were desperately trying not to appear scared. 

“Is everything in order, then?” Amira asked pleasantly, eyes flicking down to Hadia. 

Cadance kept the frown off her face. The lady before her was the lead mare of a Saddle Mareabian herd, which culturally required Amira to treat all children in the herd as her own – but people were complex, and Hadia wasn’t Amira’s birth-daughter. Chances were that saying goodbye had reassured Hadia she’d be missed, yet it was easier for Amira to give her up whilst reminding the girl of her family name.

“It’s a quick road through the city,” Cadance nodded. “My husband awaits us at the Citadel.” She gave the clock above the archway a glance, then leaned towards Hadia. “Dinner’s served at seven in the Crystal Realm. I hope you don’t mind, Hadia,” she smiled. “I know a few ponies from further South who find it strange, adjusting to the hours in the North. It took me weeks getting used to how late Aunt Celestia’s Sun rises up here.”

“I understand, Your Highness,” Hadia replied in a clear, practiced tone. She did swallow noticeably, however, and her face was stuck in its worried half-grimace. 

“You will do just fine, dear,” Amira added in a comforting voice, turning back to Cadance. “But, I’m afraid I must leave now. There’s so much business to take care of back at the Convocation.” 

“Well, I wish you a safe return, and that we see you and your family soon.” Cadance beamed. Her expression was genuine, for it was the one she’d broken out to every parent she had foal-sat for. It always worked. 

Amira bowed her head one last time, then left and walked onto the train, her porters following. Autumn Gem and her people had already seen to the luggage, so they simply stood at attention until this point.

With a sharp whistle, the train pulled away from the station, to follow the tracks South, leaving Cadance on the platform with her new ward. When Cadance turned, it didn’t surprise her that Hadia wasn’t looking at her. But nor was she staring after the departing train. As if searching for anything else to look at, the girl’s eyes had moved upwards, staring at the peculiar sky of the Crystal Realm.

Moving at a delicate pace, Cadance trotted back to Hadia, following her gaze.

“Quite something, isn’t it?” Cadance said gently. “Long trip to get here, I know. With nothing but ice to see for miles… You could fall asleep mid-way, and wake up with more hours of ice to look forward to. But once in the Realm…”

She paused, waiting to see if Hadia would say anything. When the girl didn’t, she continued.

“I’ve never been to Saddle Mareabia,” said Cadance, pouring a note of regret into her words. “Before I got married, Celestia wanted me to get to know every inch of Equestria… preparing my future duties as princess, you see. But my cousin, Astron, he went on a boat-trip once. Two days over the desert… the big one South, I mean. I remember he described coming across an oasis. What was it...”

Briefly, she rummaged her brain for Blueblood’s words.

“‘Like a mirror, Candy,’” Cadance quoted. “‘Suddenly, it stops mattering how much nothing there is all around, because the sweetest thing’s right there, in front of you.’” She chuckled softly. “Yeah… he’d say that... I know it’s been a long trip, Hadia, and it’s going to be a long stay, but I hope the Realm shall be like an oasis to you.”

“Thank you, Your Highness,” Hadia intoned, looking uncertain now. “My… my father used to visit the desert. He told me about an oasis in the Mumit Desert. He made water sound so beautiful.” 

The filly went quiet again, but Cadance smiled. Hadia had finally said something not dictated by etiquette lessons. After foal-sitting so many children, Cadance could spot an anecdote given largely for politeness’ sake, but it was a start.

The two of them set off from the platform, to find Cadance’s carriage waiting for them.

It was, at first glance, a blocky vehicle formed of a single, shimmering piece of crystal that gleamed with a lilac hue. The carriage’s body terminated in sharp, diagonal points that looked as formed from the struts which dotted the city’s borders. Large wheels with thin, delicate-looking rims and spokes held it up, their centers embossed with the bronze caps of two stylised sheep, one on top and the other underneath, chasing one another. Holding up the bridles were curling ram horns, moulded from the body’s crystal, that had been strapped to a team of eight crystalponies standing at attention. 

Cadance let Hadia climb in and pick the seat she wanted.

Contrary to the hard lines and sharp edges of the outside, the carriage was much comfier inside. Velvet cushioned everything and the roof was translucent enough to allow light in. The seats were also quite plush, something Celestia had recommended after centuries of experience. Shining had even suggested installing some kind of mini-fridge, and after one particularly long ride in the early days of the Realm’s return, when train schedules were sparse and disorganised, Cadance was tempted to allow it.

The moment Autumn Gem had decided they were settled, she shut the door and bid the carriage begin moving. There was a little rocking at first, but that quickly smoothed out. Judging from Hadia’s poise, Cadance could tell she was used to riding carriages. Silence reigned at first, but Hadia soon couldn’t resist looking out of the carriage windows, taking in the sights of the Crystal Realm. Whilst ice had a wonder to it, there wasn’t much that could beat the shining meadows or crystalline growths of the Realm itself. And though there was still some trepidation, it seemed Hadia was comfortable enough to just watch.

“Lovely, right?” Cadance chuckled, stopping only when Hadia stopped staring, having returned to the intentionally composed position Cadance guessed proper Saddle Mareabian fillies were expected to keep.

“It’s… yes, Your Highness,” Hadia replied. “It is very beautiful.” 

Normally, had this been in Canterlot or dear old Florentina, this would have been idle talk, no more substantial than any stabs at breaking the ice – so to speak. In fact, Cadance hadn’t thought beyond her words when she’d spoken them.

Yet now the small exchange, which had seemed trivial, was taking on greater significance to Cadance. She could feel it in her chest. And this only had partly to do with the fact she was talking to a child she’d be expected to take care of for three years.

“Indeed,” said Cadance, looking out in turn, her eyes growing distant. “It is beautiful, this place. But it almost wasn’t. I saw what it could still have looked like today.” She returned to Hadia. “We’re sure it should be safe now. Did your mother tell you much about the Crystal Realm, Hadia? Or… did Lady Amira?” 

“My father did, Your Highness.” There was a slight hesitation in Hadia’s voice. “And… my mother’s also given me lessons on your Realm.” The frown the filly had worn all day faded as something in her eyes lit up. A sadness remained in her expression even as it brightened, yet Cadance noticed one of her ears twitch excitedly. “Is it true you and your husband fought the Shadow King?” 

Cadance’s mind had momentarily got caught on the words ‘my father did’. From what Celestia had told her, Master Qabil would have been arrested two years before the Realm made its return. But he was a scholar, and thus liable to know the history of her land.

Then the rest of Hadia’s words caught up to her, and she gulped. She should have expected there’d be some excitement from a child in her presence. She’d seen the looks often enough, in the little colts and fillies who wandered these streets of crystal.

“Well…” Cadance began, hesitant. “Sort of. Shining did most of the action, really, him and Twilight Sparkle and friends. I spent most of it in the Citadel, doing what I could to hold up the shield keeping Sombra out. My husband could’ve done that, but…” She bit her tongue. “Last time he took charge of putting a shield up around a city, it didn’t go so well. Besides, the Realm is my birthright, so my magic is attuned to it. I think the most exciting things got was when I had to catch the Crystal Heart in mid-air, before Sombra could grab it. I was too exhausted to fly on my own by then, so Shining… helped me along.”

“How?” Hadia asked curiously.

“He... tossed me,” Cadance admitted sheepishly. “Like a spear. He’s got great aim,” she was quick to add. “He is the Captain of the Royal Guard.”

Cadance almost felt embarrassed from the look of incredulity on Hadia’s face. She could tell the gears were still turning – not from a lack of comprehension, but of all things, actual belief. 

“That’s… I, wow,” Hadia stammered. “That sounds amazing.” 

Until then, Cadance hadn’t noticed her own shoulders stiffen – almost like she was ready to be tossed all over again, frankly – but now she felt them relax. While part of Hadia’s reaction was clearly overwhelment, she seemed to mean what she’d said.

This less rehearsed way of speaking appeared promising to Cadance.

“I guess it is,” Cadance said, brushing back her mane. “I haven’t thought about it that much. Plenty of amazing stuff happens in Equestria, but most of it involves the Element Bearers. Although… none of them are married, or look to be any time soon… Well, maybe the fashion-designer, Rarity. She’s got dreams of it, anyway.” She let herself pause. “I had talks with Princess Celestia and Lady Amira about this fosterage, you know. They told me how magic works in Saddle Mareabia… but Amira especially loved talking about your father and his powers. I think she may have used ‘amazing’ at least once.”

“Thank you, Your Highness,” Hadia intoned, a small blush on her face. “I am working very hard to match my father and big brother.” 

“Aynuk, correct? Lady Amira said he’d be coming to visit,” Cadance recalled. “I do hope you will be able to get all the visits you can from family. Amira had mentioned Aynuk’s shown interest in joining the Concordat’s work, and, well…” She trailed off. “It’s going to be a very complicated time for the world.”

The light seemed to go out of Hadia’s eyes there. Her expression flattened only a little, but Cadance could see something had changed and the filly’s mood had returned to its earlier state. 

“I know,” Hadia murmured, her voice barely carrying.

The frown was back. But this time it didn’t look sad. It seemed on the verge of becoming a scowl. 

Cadance’s special magic was attuned to one particular emotion, love. Yet a poor child-minder would she have been, if she couldn’t sense a child’s feelings through more prosaic means.

‘Oops… I shouldn’t have mentioned family,’ she thought guiltily. ‘One person Hadia won’t be able to see for a long time is her father…’

She’d actually gone over this more than once with Shining. Considering his poor opinion of Blueblood, he’d been surprisingly quick to accept fostering the child of someone convicted to Erebus. But of course her Shiney wasn’t one who judged by sins of the father. No-one was trying to replace anyone’s mother or father, they’d agreed upon this instantly. Just like before, Cadance was getting a child to look after, only now with a husband by her side. In some respects, she had to admit, Twilight had been a “problem” child – not due to disregard for authority, but quite the contrary, something like over-zealous devotion to it.

What rough patches awaited her and Shining with this filly, they’d find out soon enough. However, Cadance believed that, especially compared to what awaited Equestria based on her glimpse of Earth, having a child to care for would be worth it.

A slight rocking brought Cadance out of her thoughts. The carriage had come to a halt, and a moment later there was a knock on the door, followed by it being opened by Autumn Gem. 

“We’ve arrived, Highness,” the majordomo informed them. 

Directly ahead was the raised base of the Citadel, the path leading into it flanked by rows of Crystal Guards. Cadance wasn’t one for shows of royal pomp, but her court had insisted on making an official impression. She was just glad she’d got to meet Hadia by herself, before more extravagant features had a chance to overwhelm her. Cadance counted her blessings to spot Shining waiting on the path. Like her, he’d foregone regalia – boy, had that led to argument with Court, worse than welcoming the Crystal Bard – and was standing casually, with a friendly smile on his face that widened as he saw her dismount. 

“Hi there,” Shining drawled, the smile turning into an easy grin.

She could tell he was trying to set the mood, and given the cadre of Guards at his back, it certainly made him stand out. 

“Hello, Shining,” Cadance said in response. She ushered out Hadia, who walked forward. “Hadia. This is my husband, Prince Shining Armor.” 

“An honour to meet you, Your Highness,” Hadia intoned, bowing her head and shoulders with a fait bit of grace for one her age. “I am Hadia-bint-Tahira of House al-Husan.” 

“It’s good to meet you too, Hadia.”

Cadance could tell Shining was surprised at how practised the filly’s response had sounded, but he remained easy-going. The two of them had met Canterlot gentry with less dedication to courtly manners. 

Shining nodded towards his Guards. “Stand easy, chaps,” he said, “we’re welcoming a child into our home, not the Kirin Mikado. Sergeant Flash?”

An orange-toned pegasus Guard stepped forward. “Yes, sir?”

“You and your people, please assist Miss Gem in having our ward’s luggage brought up, so she may be given space in the hour before dinner-time.”

The Sergeant saluted with a wing and went to attend the task.

Shining took a step closer to Hadia so he stood by her left, while Cadance moved by her right, both of them careful not to hem the girl in.

“Shall we, love?” Shining asked Cadance.

When she nodded, he turned about, proceeding towards the Citadel’s entrance. She matched his pace, quietly gesturing at Hadia to follow. After slight hesitation, the girl did, walking between the two adults.

“We’ve got pegasi working on the luggage,” Shining said conversationally. “They should have it brought up to your room by the time we get there.”

Hadia looked at him. Her next words seemed to slip out before she could help it. “Are you sure that’s safe?”

He smiled back at her. “The Crystal Realm’s been one of the safest, most neighbourly places in all Equestria and its related territories since Sombra was defeated. Ponies here trust each other. And the dome’s there to keep outside dangers at bay.”

“But I understand how strange it can feel,” Cadance cut in, “being in a new place.” And Earth had been strangest of all, she thought. “So if you think you’ll need something, a night-light or a music-box, perhaps, we can see to that.”

An odd look crossed Hadia’s face. “No…” she said quietly. “No, I… think I’ll manage. But thank you for suggesting it, Your Highnesses.”

“Very well,” Cadance said, exchanging a look with Shining.

They were approaching the gateway, soon to cross into the crystalline magnificence of the Citadel, but Cadance suspected a noble’s child wouldn’t be awed by the architecture. What would leave an impression was where she’d be staying the nights.

Shining stopped before the great double-doors, horn lighting up to open them.

“Having you over was my wife’s idea, Hadia,” Cadance’s husband said, turning to speak even as the Citadel’s inside was revealed. “Well… I mean, she’s the one who did all the talking. But I was very happy to agree to it. There still haven’t been many new children to the Crystal Realm, and it’s a shame, when there’s so much love about nowadays.”

Cadance’s magical senses did kick in then. Emanating from Hadia was a feeling of connection to the family she’d left behind, the environment which had raised her in a manner unorthodox to Equestrians – yet, from what Cadance sensed, had not been an lacking in love. And though the Crystal Realm was the love capital of Equestria, she wondered if it could ever fill in for that.



* * * * *



Still neatly packed and closed, the cases were already there, as had been promised.

If the pegasi Guards had brought Hadia’s luggage through the windows, they’d done a discrete, elegant job of it. Her possessions waited in a neat little row by the bed, and the tall arched windows showed no sign of having been opened. That was the first thing which struck Hadia. There was glass in the windows, and curtains. Mother had often proudly told her that no nation rivaled Saddle Mareabia for glass-blowing or textiles – but those were meant for decoration. Curtains were made for beds or doorways, not windows. Where were the wicker shutters that belonged there?

Then she remembered. It wasn’t warm enough here in the North. Nowhere near enough.

At least the bed looked normal. A four-poster, just like hers. There the sameness ended, though. The colours were all wrong. Her room was all in soft orange, the lovely smooth feel of sandstone. This room was all in shades of blue, both dark and pale, its floor covered in the checkerboard tiles she’d once read rich Equestrians favoured. It looked pretty, but it was cool, glacial. Jutting crystals gave it a hard edge. Nothing like her bedroom.

Then finally Hadia’s sights fell on something familiar. A small vanity, just like Lady Haifa’s, only a subtle dark green in colour. And on the little table was a tiny gift-wrapped white box, with the words ‘Welcome, Hadia’ written in gold on the pink ribbon.

Hadia moved towards it curiously. But rather than pick it up, she turned to look at Princess Cadance and Prince Shining Armor, who were waiting in the doorway.

“You can open it,” the Princess smiled, stepping in. “It’s a box of chocolates. Sorry, spoilers.”

Next to his wife, the Prince joined his smile to hers. “I’d suggest waiting a little bit before popping one, though. Dinner starts in an hour.”

Uncertainly, Hadia picked up the box, turning it over in her hooves. “Thank you… thanks, Your Highnesses,” she said, giving a bow.

The Princess came to place a hoof on her shoulder. “We’ll give you your space, Hadia,” she said. “If there’s anything you need, just ring the bell. There’s a pulley next to the bed. I’ll come back to fetch you in an hour. Okay?”

The unknown term momentarily confused Hadia, before she caught the Princess’s meaning.

“Yes, Your Highness,” she said. “This is… this room’s very lovely.”

“We can have it changed as you like, during your stay,” the Prince said, as the Princess returned to the doorway. Then he gently closed the door behind them.

Hadia was now alone, and part of her was thankful for that.

It had been bad enough waiting to arrive, the Lady Amira watching her and trying to remind her that visits would happen, eventually. At least she’d had Lady Amira for comfort on the train, a last little link to home before she was left in this cold land.

Hadia shivered. These caparisons were her best clothes, and her mother had picked them so they’d stand out against her colours without clashing, yet they felt frightfully thin. The train had been thankfully heated, as had the Princess’ carriage, but the crystal castle, for all of its wondrous beauty, seemed to still suffer from the chilling effect of stone in cooler climes. She wasn’t sure if that was really it, yet felt no real wish to intuit.

Not knowing what else to do, Hadia climbed onto the bed, prodding at its fabric. She dropped the sweet-box next to her, unopened.

One last thing she hadn’t noticed. Her new guardians had left her a couple of storybooks. Two picture-books reclined upon the pillows, their covers illustrated in water-colours. Under The Sparkling Sea and The Dragons on Dazzle Island, the titles read.

A weak smile tugged at her lips. The Princess had been thoughtful. And those were truly beautiful water-colours. But she didn’t look at the books for long. It felt hard, somehow.

“Alright,” Hadia whispered as clearly as she could. “Think of Mother. Think of what she said... Think of what Aynuk said. Think of wha… wh… what Baba would have said. This is very important. This is your home… for now.”

Home. Hadia already wanted to go home. This place, though the Princess and Prince had tried their best to comfort her, was too foreign and too cold. She wanted to go back to her room, to hide in the library, to splash in Lady Naiya’s pool, even go do her studies if it would let her stay where she belonged.

‘Studies,’ Hadia thought. And her heart sank at the word.

The curriculum and a reminder to keep on top of it had been one of the last things her mother had given her before leaving. There had been genuine farewells, some hugs and a kiss on the forehead afterwards, but that word was all she could really think about linked to her mother. 

‘First I have to study for the family, now I have to leave the family for them.’ Stewing in her bitter thoughts, Hadia felt her legs go weak with every pulsating throb in her temples. ‘How’s that make sense? How does sending me here help?’ 

Aynuk had once told her a lot was expected of their clan, especially those who were special like he and she were, but also that he believed she could meet those expectations, maybe even exceed them. He’d never once doubted she could become as good at sorcery as he was. She wasn’t sure she was that good, but every time Aynuk had affirmed she could accomplish their father and her mother’s wishes, he was right. 

“But what kind of lesson is this?” Hadia asked herself. She was staring at the floor now and felt even colder for it. 

Hadia concentrated a moment. Her horn shone. A flicker of flame appeared in front of her. A narrowing of the eyes, and the flame grew in size and heat. Finally she felt warmer, but the magic just reminded her of all the demands made of her in the past year. 

Magic was her inheritance. That was what Baba had told her. Lady Amira had explained this trip to the ponylands in a very long and wordy fashion, telling her she’d be fostering good relationships with the land of Equestria, but Hadia had figured out the big reason she was here. She could do magic, which almost none of her siblings could, and Aynuk had to stay home and couldn’t take her place. 

Her flame flickered and faded, almost spitefully. Hadia concentrated and conjured it back, but it was weaker now, simply floating in front of her, as if in mockery. Frowning, Hadia intensified her focus upon the magical fire – which noiselessly exploded into a bright sphere of magical energy, tinted blue and green. She flew off the bed, her impact mercifully cushioned by her luggage. Dazed, she looked to see there was no damage to the bedroom. Or her, other than a slight shock. But the sphere was gone, having winked out when it detonated. 

Surrounded by knocked-over boxes and bags, Hadia just lay on the cold floor, stewing. Her mind was a maelstrom of  emotions and she shivered in barely-suppressed anger. 

That was it.

Hadia let out a scream of rage and jumped to her hooves, and she wrapped one of the cases her mother had packed in a magical grip. Lifting it high, Hadia screamed again, slamming it down onto the floor. The case flew open as it bounced off the crystalline surface, spewing out clothing everywhere. Another case rose in Hadia’s magic, followed by another. The first rocketed towards the wall, lid flying off and throwing books onto the floor, even before it impacted by the vanity. The other was chucked at the bed. More and more went as Hadia assaulted the bedroom, picking up anything nearby until she’d covered everything in the contents of her luggage.

Her face twisted in impotent fury, Hadia threw herself at the bed and pulled up the sheets, throwing them to the floor. The pillows, and the lovely picture-books with them, rose up in her magical energy immediately after and flew off in different directions, hitting separate walls. 

Hissing every breath, Hadia turned and looked around the room, eyes searching for something left to throw. She felt so tired, so tired. Each breath exhausted her. It was all pressing down on her at once. The anger was not gone, she still felt furious, but had no energy left to do anything. Her throat was hoarse and her hooves shook as she stood on the bed, her head bowed.

“Why?” Hadia whispered after a minute of standing in place.

She knew why, but still struggled to understand. 

It was then she spied something amongst the strewn clothing and personal items. A massive plush snake, twice as long as she was and almost as thick, Lfah. The doll was the oldest toy she could remember, and almost every night she had slept with it. For more than a year it had been her lifeline, one of the few things that helped comfort her in her father’s absence. 

“Baba.” Hadia whimpered and she collapsed onto the bed. She wrapped her forehead in her forehooves as the tears slowly started to flow. 

Lifting her head up again, Hadia concentrated and wrapped Lfah in her magic and pulled it towards her. Opening her forelegs she embraced the snake and let her magic wrap it around her, coiling the plush toy over and over, until it cocooned her body. The velvet head rested against Hadia’s face, soaking up her tears as she shut her eyes. 

Like so many nights, Hadia tried to imagine it wasn’t Lfah surrounding her, that it was her father, that he wasn’t in prison, that she wasn’t away from home. She tried to ignore the feeling of soft velvet and imagined they were smooth scales instead, the kind her father wore when he changed his form into the graceful serpent he often showed off for her. 

“Baba,” Hadia repeated, finally overcoming by exhausation. As her fatigue dragged her down into unconsciousness, she let out a final whisper. “I want to go home.” 





~ The Hall of Unity ~

Back when the Convocation had started, the Hive Queen’s private chambers had undergone a metamorphosis, transforming from the standard aesthetics of any fancy room in Canterlot into a wax-layered lair befitting Chrysalis. But in retrospect, this had only been the tip of that iceberg. Two weeks onward, and any bare patches remaining had now been consumed by this gelatinous, poisonous green, no trace left to show this was ever a bedroom fit for ponies.

Not even, Thorax reflected sourly, the four-poster the Queen slept in with her young charge, Papillate. The once-ornate bed resembled nothing so much now as a wax sculpture, as if four pairs of green stalactites and stalagmites had joined, to form an intriguing pattern around at the far corner of an especially moist cavern.

Princess Celestia had finally put her hoof down and insisted that, if the Queen was set on keeping her captive Timberwolves, the Hall had a menagerie at the ready and Chrysalis could move them there, rather than let the poor creatures suffocate in this stifling humidity. So that was their cages gone. Of course, by then, the Queen had also emptied out the red drake’s cage. It lay right where she’d left it, the wire-mesh door hanging open.

He’d been left here, as well.

‘Because,’ the words hammered at his skull, ‘what else do you have?’

Eyes down, Thorax did not think about where he was going. He let his hooves carry him, as they guided him past open wire-mesh, into the yawing blackness inside. His hooves touched obsidian. Without even a sigh, he turned to pull the door, hearing more than seeing the latch fall.

This was it, then. He’d shut himself in.

He lay down, scrunched up his eyes, and willed himself to shut out the world.

Whereupon, he heard it – three taps on the cage, in quick succession. A blink brought the world back into focus. Thorax glanced to meet the newcomer’s eyes. Her upside-down head stuck out from over the cage’s top, watching him through the wire-mesh.

“Oh, h-hey, Aphid. Didn’t see you there.”

The little Changeling drone rolled her eyes, and crawled down to the cage’s latch. Swiftly, she unlatched it, opened the door, and gestured for him to join her outside.

“No thanks, Aphid. I’m going to stay in here.”

Of course, given who this was, Thorax didn’t expect her to leave. Instead, Aphid dropped next to him and sat upright. She did not look happy, going so far as a quizzical tilt of the head as she faced him.

Thorax thought he read the unspoken question in her eyes.

“What? No, it’s not like that… It’s not. I wasn’t going to… I mean, I wasn’t trying to… I… just want to be alone. Please…”

Aphid pouted, but as she patted the floor in front of her, her expression shifted to concern. Yet Thorax just pulled his forelegs further in, refusing to close the gap between them.

“I wasn’t gonna starve myself to death, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Thorax said stubbornly. “I know I’ve not been… eating properly, lately... The Queen, maybe she’d let it happen, but Pharynx, he… He wouldn’t allow it.”

And then Aphid lunged forward – wax excreting from her forehoof. How she produced it so fast, Thorax did not know, but he was unprepared to resist her grabbing his forehooves and dragging him out of the cage.

He weakly tried pulling back, but gave up after a few short tugs. Aphid might not say much, yet when she wanted a chat, she got it. With her forelegs crossed and the unusually stern look on her face as she let go, Thorax saw no option but to give in.

“It’s not like that…” he repeated helplessly, avoiding her eyes.

Aphid said nothing, yet she didn’t do anything else, either. It was a heavy silence, and one he realised she was expecting him to fill.

“Look, I…” Thorax began, still not looking at her. “She’s a Princess. I’m a drone. Heck, she could’ve killed me! I was never kidding myself… But… Pharynx, he won’t even let me dream. And… maybe she is a Princess and I’m a drone, but I didn’t want to just… you know, just be a Changeling to her…”

He heard a sharp ‘tsk’ from Aphid, making him gaze up. She promptly gestured to all of him, before shrugging confusedly. Then she tapped his chest, and smiled slightly. She touched her own chest, and he knew she was mimicking Ember’s vocals as she made a gagging sound.

“Right… Yeah. Yeah, she’s a bit different around me, isn’t she?” He sighed. “Probably cos’ I said I liked how she plays guitar…”

With a shake of his head, he gave Aphid a sour glance.

“You don’t care what people think, do you, Aphid?” Thorax muttered. “I shouldn’t have said it. Said that about the guitar. I actually thought she might like me, just a little. But they only care for Changelings when we give ‘em what they want... and I told her what she wanted to hear.”

This time, Aphid mimed burying her face in her hooves. Then she tapped him on the chest, firmly, before speaking in Ember’s voice;

“Well… you said… you’re there with Chrysalis at mealtimes?”

Thorax remembered when Ember had spoken those words. It was the last time he’d had a quiet moment with her. Before everything had turned ugly. It had also been back when Garble was the one stuck inside that cage. And he’d been the one who let the dragon out so Aphid could massage Garble’s aching shoulders.

He felt his throat rise into a growl. That mean red drake had never deserved the kindness.

“Okay… I… I’ll keep an eye out for you.” 

Having finished her quoting, Aphid next mimicked the plucking of a guitar’s strings, prior to ‘throwing’ it away, and she tapped his chest once again, her expression growing softer.

“Really, huh?” Thorax said flatly. “Special, that’s what you think? Well, you were watching us a long time. So, if that’s what you think of her and me, what do you think of her? You saw her at the campfire, we all did.”

Aphid tapped her chin, briefly, her brows furrowed.

She turned her head over to the side, and breathed fire. Or quite a neat facsimile of it, using Changelings’ green transformation fire to the effect of it pouring from her open mouth. She looked at him again, mimicked strumming a guitar, and Thorax could just imagine what Ember had been practicing that night. Finally, the imaginary guitar was shoved away again, while Aphid bared her fangs.

Her little display, true to her, was capped off with a smug nod.

“Well, I see you got her mannerisms down pat…” Thorax said in a whisper.

Cold-blooded though he was, he was beginning to feel his heat rise. That seemed to be a recurring thing when it came to him and Ember. But whereas that time under the mistletoe had been uncomfortable, yet also kind of pleasant – now, there was nothing pleasant about this rising heat.

He was whispering, and he felt an urge to shout.

“You know… the mannerisms aren’t the same as the person,” he said, speaking louder now. “But… go ahead. Pharynx is right, isn’t he? Absolutely right. She’s a Princess, I’m a drone, pony-tale endings don’t happen, and most of all– what’s the difference? There never was nothing special between us– Do I know a thing about her? If you’re so good at imitating Ember, why don’t ya just turn into her, huh?”

Thorax gave Aphid a shove. She scuttled back in fright. A milestone for him. He was the most timid Changeling in the Hive and no creature had ever scuttled from him.

What little of that thought registered gave him no joy.

“Go on! Do it! Isn’t that what Changelings do? We don’t care for other creatures, and none care about us! You could turn into her right now, it’d make no difference! He’s right, I only liked her for her looks– her looks, ya hear me! It isn’t what’s inside that matters! All we want from them is that sweet, sweet love! And no-one loves a Changeling for… wh-who…”

His final words, which had struggled to come out, were cut off by a burst of green fire.

He found himself face to face with Ember. But it wasn’t Ember. It couldn’t be. It might look like the blue, fierce dragon that was Ember, but this was Aphid underneath. She was plain Aphid, not Princess Ember. The alleged dragon stared upon her form, stretching her claws. She pointed at herself, before shaking her head.

Another burst of green fire consumed her. Now Aphid, small and wide-eyed, sat there, her expression concerned and caring. She pointed to herself with a hoof, and then at him.

That heat which had built up inside of Thorax, having burst out so violently, now dissipated with nearly the same abruptness, leaving him with a hollow feeling. His throat hurt. He felt his lips tremble – his whole body, even. He was shaking all over. The tears began pouring thick and fast. He buried his eyes in his hooves, but nowhere quick enough for her not to see. It didn’t matter. Nothing about it did.

He felt himself pulled into an embrace. A warm, comforting hug. He released the sob he’d been holding in, returning the hug of Aphid’s hooves caressing his back, even as he let it all out.

“I’m sorry,” Thorax said in a hoarse whisper. “So sorry… Sorry for making this all about me… You’re a… I know you care, Aphid. I’m sorry for doubting that… For what I said. That was a horrible, cruel thing to say… We’re… we’re still friends, right?”

Aphid broke away from the hug, her large eyes staring into his. Then her smile grew wider, and the little drone patted his shoulder in camaraderie.

Thorax sighed in relief. “You’re a good friend,” he said, managing to finish that phrase. “I’m… I really am sorry. You’ve been listening to me rant… and I didn’t even think about how I’m not the only Changeling looking for love…”

Another ‘tsk’ from Aphid, but she wore a knowing smirk. He chuckled wryly in return.

“I’m sorry,” he said, having lost count of how often he’d said that. “I shouldn’t have shoved you. That’s not… not something friends do. No hard feelings?”

Aphid furrowed her brows, and scrunched her snout. With a heavy sigh, she raised a hoof, and offered it to him. A hoofshake.

“O-okay,” said Thorax. He raised his forehoof to met hers. “I-I guess this means it’s okay…?”

His word died in his throat, for he felt his hoof stick to hers, still wax-covered. And he hardly had enough time to blurt out a cry of terror when Aphid pulled him in a headlock and began to vigorously rub against his cranium. 

It wasn’t as rough as his brother, but Thorax still yelped.

“Alright, alright!” he wheezed, holding in his choking laughter. “You can stop now. Boy, I hate it when Pharynx does that. I’d prefer if you– ow– stuck to your massages.”

As suddenly as it had begun, Aphid fell back and clutched her stomach, 'giggling' with a smile as wide as she could make it, her eyes shut in glee.

Another light jab to his shoulder, and all was settled. Their laughter died down.

His gaze fell upon her fin. Whereas in Chrysalis’ presence, it was the same shade of green as their brethren, in private she tended to colour it purple, as now. She had done it ever since she’d returned from her brief separation from the Hive, and though she’d only responded with a tap on his snout when he’d asked about it, Thorax had a hunch.

Now, with the tension diffused, the chance was his to take.

“So, um, Aphid,” he began. “What’s it like out... outside the Hive?”

In the aftermath of the Wedding Invasion, Aphid hadn’t been found as one of the Changelings blown away by Chrysalis’ side. He – and Pharynx, who’d never admit it – had worried she might have been among the fallen. And yet merely a few weeks before the Call, she had returned to the Hive. A little thinner, a little jumpier, but nonetheless the same, energetic Changeling they knew.

Of course, she’d been quiet about her misadventure in Canterlot, and Thorax suspected she had let the myth grow for the admiration that came with it.

Aphid’s smile faded away, and she tapped her chin. She breathed out a long, long sigh, before motioning a rope around her neck – and tightened it, topped off with her tongue sticking out.

Before Thorax could comment, Aphid had already curled up on the floor, her body shivering and teeth rattling, whereupon she stood right back up and inhaled, pointing to her stomach, her ribs now showing from her sucked-in breath.

“Right... I can imagine it being way colder than we’d like,” Thorax commented slowly. “Guess that’s better than the desert, though… Dunno how the Violet Hive can stand it, down in Saddle Mareabia… no wonder they got cracked chitin…”

He was babbling. He’d really only thought about the Violet Hive from glancing at Aphid’s now-characteristic purple fin. Truth be told, he barely knew anything about other Hives. Chrysalis didn’t encourage mingling.

“Um, say...” Thorax said, realising this was a delicate question. “How did you… get by, finding enough to eat, after the invasion like that? They musta been on the lookout for Changelings…”

Upon hearing this, Aphid leaned forward, hooves on her chin, and fluttered her eyes. Before Thorax could comment, however, she waved a hoof, and changed positions – now she was laying on the floor, her eyes wide and looked up, half-pleading, half-begging.

“You… asked for it?” said Thorax. “How’d it work?”

Aphid looked towards him, and her eyes widened like a hurt puppy.

“Yeah, I can see that working. Lucky you…” His words petered out. “Sorry. I... dunno why I asked. A Changeling belongs with their Hive, don’t they? Pharynx said it… no more stupid dreams…”

From her position, Aphid suddenly sat up straight and moved closer to him, her face filled with utter worry. She pointed at his chest, and then to the door, and she tilted her head.

She was good at reading what was unsaid. She had experience.

“I… don’t know. I don’t know what else to do, Aphid,” Thorax said, rubbing his brow wearily. “I can’t go on like this… I thought I could, but I can’t. Pharynx knows what he wants, and you’ve found your spot, but me… If this keeps up, I’m gonna go crazy… or turn mean…”

Aphid blew a raspberry. It wasn’t mocking or anything, Thorax knew as soon as she pointed at him again, then drew a heart in the air. He wasn’t sure where the squeak she’d emitted had come from either. But then she hissed. Only, it was Pharynx’s hiss.

He knew what she was saying, yet he still wasn’t sure what to make of it.

“You don’t get it,” Thorax said glumly, “I know I’m not like him. He was born tough. I… it makes me feel bad, just doing what the Queen says. It’s okay for you, she likes your fanning and your massages. And… you know how to take care of yourself. I think the only reason I’m still around is cos’ Pharynx is my brother.”

Aphid opened her mouth, then closed it slowly. And for the first time since they spoke here, she looked at a loss of words, as she rested her chin on both hooves. Truthfully, Thorax didn’t expect Aphid to answer at all. Of all their brethren, her devotion to their Queen was such, compared to her irreverent behaviour around him and Pharynx, that it was too jarring a mystery. Without her usual mimicry, he wondered what she was thinking.

An answer came at last. She stared at him, and repeated the same gestures. A tap on his chest, then to the door, topped off by a tilt of the head. Only this time, she had a look in her eyes that was unusually pleading, like she didn’t want to believe something.

That look pained him. Grimacing, Thorax averted his gaze. On instinct rather than purpose, his eyes roved back towards the cage. It still stood there, the same dark hole she’d got him out of, and he made up his mind.

“Yeah,” Thorax said quietly. “I think that’s it. You… you probably don’t wanna hear this, but… I just don’t think I can live for the Queen, and… I don’t think she really wants me in the Hive. You’re my Hive, you and Pharynx. But you’re so good at fending for yourselves on your own.”

And for the longest minute, Aphid said nothing, simply staring back at him with those large blue eyes of hers. Her hoof moved to her saddlebags. From within she withdrew a bottle of water. Thorax shook his head.

“No, no, that’s yours,” he said, even as Aphid pushed it to him. “I can’t…”

But Aphid’s smile told him she wasn’t taking no for an answer. Gently, she reached for his froehoof and guided him into a hug. More than anything, he knew it was goodbye. 

He heard it, a whisper so delicate he might have missed it, but he caught it nonetheless.

“... Good luck.”



* * * * *



“Sir, I insist,” Nurse Cross said sharply. “I get what this means to you, but don’t push your luck.”

Blinking through the sweat dripping into his eyes, Alex tried to ignore her, focused upon keeping his fingers laced behind the back of his head. His eyes zeroed in on the end of the exercise mat, then he reclined, struggling to stay balanced. Pathetic. He shouldn’t be perspiring after a mere forty head-lifts, even rapid ones, but there it was. Between muffled gasps, he wondered whether Equus’s laws of physics were to blame. Except that didn’t make sense, as everything Cheerilee or Amethyst had told him suggested Equus was a less physically taxing world than Earth.

No, though he hated to admit it, he could only blame that lousy ‘honour duel’ for knocking his rehabilitation back by several days. The nurse’s eyes silently told Alex as much. Using his runic tattoos made him forget the natural limits to his body. Limits he couldn’t afford to lose sight of. The runes needed recharging as much as human stamina.

“‘Sides,” said Cross, “Maybe it’s your thing now, pursuing these exercises while talking tactics with the big-wigs. But you’ve gotta make yourself presentable once in a while.”

Having lifted his head for the fiftieth time, Alex stopped and stared.

“‘Talking tactics’?” he said. “Why, what’s the time?”

She motioned at his bedside table’s clock, grumbling. Quarter to eight.

“Blast,” Alex muttered, “where did time go… Okay, uh, help me up, please, Sutra?”

“Now you’re talking sense,” Cross said, lifting him by the arm. It was unsteady going, but she got him back into his wheelchair within minutes, offering him a clean towel he accepted gladly.

“I’m sorry to be such a pain in the ass,” Alex told her, as he finished wiping his face. “Guess you’re not used to the military exercise regimen, huh?”

“Nope,” Cross said, grabbing the towel back. “That was more Redheart’s thing.”

Alex noted the shortness of her tone. She’d practically snatched the towel, and hadn’t even looked at him when she did. His lips thinned. Sutra Cross’s bedside manner had began to slip after the Ponyville fiasco, but ever since the spy Redheart’s funeral, the amiable nurse he remembered had turned snappish.

“Sutra,” he said. “Is something wrong?”

She had her back to him, facing the window. “What’s wrong?” she said. “Will you tell me what isn’t wrong? And stop calling me ‘Sutra’. You don’t know me.”

Now this was unfair. “I did know you, back on–”

“No, you knew someone else,” said Cross. “A nurse with my name. You’re a stranger to me, Alexander Reiner. You’ve been my patient for over three weeks, and that’s a good time for a nurse and their patient to get to know each other. But when you look at me, you don’t see me. All you can think of’s the Nurse Cross who wanted to help, and got horribly killed for it– by the people she tried helping.”

Alex felt his guts tighten in a knot. The terrible images floated back up. Not merely the videos, broadcast on the darknet, of what the HLF had done, but the aftermath. Retaliation, visited upon the shantytown of Defiance. Ashes in the snow. A pregnant woman and a bullet… 

“They paid for it,” he said, too quickly. “They paid for it.”

“Did they?” She sighed, facing him again. “Maybe they did. But did that do any good?”

As always when he asked himself such things, Alex’s mind went back to how he’d chosen to become a soldier in the first place. More than twenty years ago, now. How Dan Radwick had only hoped he’d come home, but his mother... 

Few would have disputed that his mother was a patriot. She’d hung the Stars-and-Stripes over their porch every Sunday, in the various Texas towns they’d moved to during his childhood. A kid of the 1970s, the first vote she’d cast in her life was to give old Ronnie Reagan another term in office, and voted Republican ever since, except those three times – once for Ross Perot in 1996, then for John Kerry in 2004, and finally Barack Obama in 2012.

He’d never shaken off wondering if the Kerry vote was a swipe at him, for enlisting in the military that had eventually launched a repeat of the Gulf War, the same war which claimed his father’s life ten years before.

“I never asked for this…” Alex mouthed, staring at his lightly glowing runes.

“What was that?”

Cross’s eyes were on him, full of consternation.

Alex cleared his throat. “No, that’s not right. I did ask, I guess, when I signed up,” he said. “But… I never thought soldiering was all I’d ever do. I tried, a couple years, you know? After coming back from my third tour. Except, it never felt right. Stayed away from home, couldn’t face it. And the job market sucked, after 2008. So, I re-enlisted. Embassy duty, overseas.”

“And that was where you were, when all this went down?” asked Cross, placing her forehoof upon his armrest.

“Nobody ever knows where they’re gonna be, once it hits the fan,” said Alex. “That’s why I enlisted as a young man… Kid, really. Stupid kid, fresh out of high school. Bastards, they hook you in when you’re too young to know better. But I did it, because I didn’t want to get caught unprepared, next time it happened. Well, that sure as hell worked out.”

In the ensuing silence, the nurse’s bearing remained stoney. Just as Alex was asking himself what else he could say, however, she did something unexpected. Her forehoof moved up the wheelchair’s armrest, to take his hand.

“Alexander,” said Cross. “I can’t say I understand. But perhaps I know how it feels, a tiny bit. Redheart was my friend. Is. And with the newcomers arriving across that gateway, you’d think now’d be the time for a xenobiologist like me to have a field day… You’d think. I guess that’s why I’m not going to be your nurse until you’re done healing.”

“You’re not?” Alex said, surprised.

Cross nodded. “I spoke to the Princess,” she said. “Asked for a spot on that Expedition of Madame Heartstrings’, which they’re now expecting will ship out in five days or so.”

“First Lyra, then you…” Alex shook his head. “Hm. Five days? I gotta admit, we humans love bragging about our tech stuff, but it’s always impressed me how quick Equestrians get things done. A summit and an expedition like this would’ve taken months to prepare, back where I’m from.”

“Yes,” Cross said distractedly, “But five days it is. I’m sorry, but it looks as if you’ll have to complete your re-education on… on Earth. I know you were stretching your stay right up until Lyra heads off... ”

“And you’re going with her.”

“That’s right,” Cross said. “They’ll need a xenobiologist.”

Alex looked her in the eyes. “It’s not just that.”

Her lip quivered. “Sorry,” she repeated. “How could I pass this up? I need to understand what this is about. Why what happened… did. And if they’re gonna find anything, up there in the Sunken Dream Valley, to do with humans… Then I can do something to help.”

There may have been a chance at closure. If there was, Cross didn’t give it to him. Instead, she glanced at the clock and, seeing the time, released his hand with little warning.

She made her way to the door, opening it expertly. Right on time, four figures awaited outside.

“Pardon the delay,” said Cross, stepping out with a token bow to the tallest figure, “we were having a heart-to-heart. The human’s all yours, ladies.”

Alex tried smoothing his uniform, his one item of clothing, laundered over and over again by the tireless Nurse Cross, as the four stepped in.

Princess Celestia and the PHL’s three top representatives, Lady Cadance, Dame Moondancer and Specialist Amethyst Star. They each wore equal looks of bemusement from the strange greeting they’d received.

“Howdy, Alex.” Amethyst observed Sutra Cross’s retreating back. “What’s the matter with her?”

“We had… a talk,” Alex said. “It’s been tough. She’s still coping with the story of how she died in my world. Meeting a different Redheart, then having that one die on her too, it’s not been doing her mental state any favours. I think someone’s gonna need your TLC, Cadance.”

“Please, call me Cadenza,” said she in a measured tone, as she closed the door. “The more time we spend in this place, the better it suits me, don’t you think?”

Alex nodded. He, too, was beginning to think of her as ‘Cadenza’. He just hadn’t got into the habit.

“I get what you’re saying about Nurse Cross,” Cadenza commented. “A victim of both the Solar Empire and the HLF… No wonder it’s messing with her head. What happened to our Sutra Cross was unforgivable. An indelible black mark on the HLF’s reputation. Although… one not undeserved, I should think.”

Moondancer gave her a troubled glance. “The Reav–”

“Oh, yes,” Cadenza said dryly. “The Viking cosplayers who blood-eagle people. Truly paragons of human virtue.”

“You know we’ve only heard of them doing that a couple of times,” Amethyst said. “And it was to people few would shed a tear for.”

Cadenza snorted. “Yes, it’s okay when you only do it to people who truly deserve it. Pretty sure that’s the argument they used for the electric chair.”

Celestia’s brows were furrowing. Evidently, she questioned the direction this was taking.

“Princess Cadance told me she accosted a former member of the HLF during her time on Earth. She described them as quite accommodating. Apparently, Miss Carter relayed all kinds of peculiar stories to her regarding the Newfoals.”

“Vinyl Scratch’s old pal,” sighed Moondancer. “What a character.”

“I suppose it would be fair to say the Carter girl has some personal expertise on the topic,” Cadenza acknowledged grudgingly. “Her being around shows no story’s too wild where Conversion are concerned… Even if she wasn’t converted by the serum, but rather, an incident of her own making when she tried to sabotage our operations.”

“Poison joke,” Celestia said, and Alex felt sure she was hiding a tiny smile on her face. “But isn’t it true that of all those converts affected by a slow-acting variant of the serum, some were still active years past when they should have succumbed?”

“Definitely,” Alex nodded soberly. “There’s documented evidence of that.”

“But then there’s that story of a woman who turned after being splashed by grape juice,” Amethyst cut in suddenly, and rather forcefully, much to Alex’s surprise. “And let me tell you, that’s nonsense.”

“How can you be sure, Miss Star?” asked Celestia, her eye as quizzical as her tone.

“I had my friend, Agent Bjorgman, look into the matter,” said Amethyst. The expression on her face was particularly dark, and he wondered what it hid. “This was at a time of relative détente between the PHL and HLF. Naturally, our relations didn’t stay stable for long, but… Rest assured, whatever lurks inside that cursed liquid, it wouldn’t work through a placebo.”

“Why would anyone claim otherwise?” wondered Celestia.

Moondancer shifted on her hooves. “It is… terribly delicate, Your Highness,” she said, “and I don’t think we should scratch that scar too hard. But… grief, would be a factor.”

Cadenza gave a grim nod, with a face Alex could recognise too well. “Indeed.”

“On the contrary, Your Highnesses,” said Amethyst. “Let’s scratch it.”

“Now, Amethyst–” Alex started, feeling uneasy.

“What the good Captain’s too diplomatic to let me say, Highness,” Amethyst said in a low voice, “is that the HLF high-ranker who set this urban legend in motion has an ego, which won’t let them entertain the possibility their precious supplies could, in fact, get spiked–”

“Dammit, Amethyst,” groaned Alex, “You’re awfully sure about this, after admitting that you’d never finished looking into it.”

“You needn’t play good cop with me, Alex. You know I’m damn right. It’s not like you’ve got any love lost for the Commodore.”

“Hold on,” frowned Moondancer, “should we let personal feelings cloud our judgement?”

Amethyst closed her eyes. She took a deep breath and, when she reopened her eyes to resume her speaking, her tone was somewhat humbled.

“Yes…” Amethyst sighed. “Alright, I admit it. We don’t know.” She refocused on Celestia. “Still, the point remains. I wouldn’t call the Commodore a trustworthy source. It tickles his fancy to pilot those super-ships his corporate overlords gave him to play with. Pride and ambition are all that make him refuse to integrate the PHL, rather than any real moral objection to our lapses.”

“Not that it’s kept him from shaping his branch of the HLF into a PHL knock-off,” noted Cadenza. “Sadly, though, I can understand a few of the reasons that’d lead the Equestrian Stranded to turn towards the Ex Astris flotilla, not us.”

“And those are?” said Celestia.

“Lyra’s one, ironically,” Cadenza said regretfully. “There are people who feel the PHL has grown too cult-like in its devotion to her. What doesn’t help is the key role she played in the Co-Harmony Sphere– some even see her rebellion against the Solar Tyrant as just the act of a false prophet, seeking to overthrow another false prophet.”

“And by that, we mean a lot of humans,” Moondancer spoke, “but ponies as well. That’s how you find Equestrians integrating the more open-minded HLF, such as Ex Astris.”

“Poor souls,” Amethyst sighed. “If they think this way, they’ve escaped from serving under a leader with delusions of grandeur…”

Now Alex heard himself speaking somberly. “Who knows, Amethyst. Maybe it isn’t possible to be leader without buying into your own hype, just a bit. Who can say?”

And Princess Celestia was silent.

“Um, what were we talking about, again?” said Moondancer.

Her question broke whatever dark spell had hung over the room. But where Celestia had chosen silence and discretion before, now she stepped to the forefront, assuming a place which drew all gazes to her.

Cued by a light fizzle and pop and a tang of ozone, the Princess retrieved two rolled-up sheets of paper from the sub-dimensional confines of her null-space.

“We had reports to make, plans to discuss,” Celestia stated. “First, the report. I’ve been informed via telegram that Captain Plow, the Trailblazer officer apprehended in Boston, has been transferred to the Crystal Realm, as has… Spike. Princess Cadance is currently preoccupied with hosting her ward, but will soon look into their cases.”

“That’s… that’s good, Your Highness,” said Alex. “And what about the plans? You got those things we talked about?”

“Yes, Captain.”

In view of the PHL, Celestia unfolded the two paper sheets within her aura. Alex, shouldered by his comrades, leaned forward for a closer look. It was a series of floor plans and diagrams, printed on blue, detailing the outline of an iconic structure of the Canterlot cityscape.

“As promised,” said Celestia. “These are the blueprints of Canterlot Palace. We’ve discussed the limitations of what I can offer you– however accurate these are, we cannot predict how the Palace’s layout might have changed in fifteen years. But if our guess is correct, and the Queen’s had Discord’s statue stashed in the Vault, this’ll aid your agents on their rescue mission.”





~ The Tabletop of The Assistant’s Mind ~

Spike gazes hungrily at the basket of gems while Rarity loads a couple more in. Of course, they are doing this as quietly as possible, given the bats nesting in the cave roof above. And the hardest thing for the young drake is resisting the temptation to sample at least one gem. Because they weren’t for him, and he couldn’t eat a gem quietly.

Rarity’s coat has a rougher appearance than it once did, no matter her delicate ministrations, her eyes less lustrous. But she remains Rarity, wearing a stylised hard-hat with a front-light and bow.

“The last time I was here, I woke them, and ended up with a mane full of… bats!” Rarity whispers. She sighs, stealing a glance at the bats before looking back to him. “Thanks for being my basket-carrier, Spike.”

“Basket-carrier?” Spike parrots out of surprise, “I thought I was your bodyguard.”

“What? Oh, heh, yes, yes, that of course, too,” Rarity says with a light chuckle, as she resumes collecting gems. “You’d make a gallant knight.”

Spike just lets out a quiet huff, scratching his shoulder. It'd be nice for the others to view him in a better light than just a helper. And– there is a terrible itch now that demands Spike’s full attention. Unfortunately, the itch is all around his body and very insistent on being scratched.

Also, for some reason, his scales turn luminescent–

“Spike! Turn that off! You'll wake the bats!” 

“I can’t–”

And then everything stops.

Or rather, there is movement from the bats above, roused by Spike’s spontaneous glowing. But even then, it is as if the scene between the young drake and the Bearer of Generosity has simply frozen mid-thought. Spike, caught in the midst of trying to scratch his glowing scales; Rarity, gasping in fright; the bats, awakening.



* * * * *



Now, to one reviewing this memory, this was something which could be done – employing the magic of dreamwalkers to suspend and study the details of the moment. Doing so was useful for uncovering hidden motivation, or locating those obscure details critical to an active plot. 

In any event, to the observer of this memory, one Princess of Love, it was perplexing to behold. While Cadance wasn’t a specialist of the mind-delve spell that Luna provided her, she has her own method on how to use it – love. Or rather, a tracing of the various forms of love as a guiding line through one’s mind. It is an effective substitution to match her field of expertise.

But, as Cadance looked on in confusion, there remained the problem of what she’d seen. The memory had stopped on its own without command or prompt. Normally, this did not happen because such was an unwinding presence, like watching a body of water flow by its own velocity.

‘A one-sided, yet powerful affection,’ the Princess mused on what she’d observed of Spike with Rarity. ‘But it stopped dead. Why? Is this Spike’s mind so damaged by they did to him?’ 

With her horn glowing, Cadance turns her head elsewhere to continue on her descent.

The mind of the older Spike, his physical form safely sequestred in a secret area of her Citadel, manifested itself to her in a straightforward manner. With nice forestry grass beneath her hooves, willowy trees beside her, and a sizable fortress before her. One that was wide open and vacant.

‘Boys and their board games,’ she thought as she crossed the drawbridge, entering the fortress’s courtyard. ‘I told Shiney, Spike would get hooked on this kind of stuff.’

Mind you, the mind-delve spell was not unlike flipping the page around for answers on a crossword puzzle or a cheat key on an escape room. It had its uses.

Where was everyone? If this was a castle, where were the guards? Or servants for that matter? Why wouldn’t the Solar Empire have defenses made? So far, this had been a breeze...

‘Another connection,’ Cadance thought in recognition of a heart-shaped stone archway that lay before her. ‘Hopefully this one lasts.’

With a simple point of magic, the archway glowed and–



* * * * *



“The Gauntlet is dangerous, for I designed it myself!” booms the largest dragon Cadance has ever seen, an armoured brute large enough to bestride a mountain, from atop this very perch. “Only dragons with my ferocity, strength, and determination will be able to finish. We will gather at the cliff when the Sun is at its peak!”

There is cheering from the smaller, younger dragons gather in the valley below, praising the name ‘Torch’, although it sounds forced to Cadance’s ears.

One of them, by far the tiniest, is Spike. The young drake is uninterested in any sort of competition.

“I don't want to be Dragon Lord or dragon toast,” Spike mumbles aloud, “and I stopped glowing, so let's sneak out of here!”

However, as he begins pushing a large rock away, which only Cadance seems to notice has sprouted eyes on its surface – no doubt one of Miss Rarity’s ingenious disguises, the Princess smiles at that – the huge Dragon Lord somehow spots his tiny figure.

“Where do you think you're going, little dragon?” bellows giant Torch.

And, as one, every single other dragon in the vicinity parts away from Spike, leaving him in clear line-of-sight of the Dragon Lord. Put on the spot, a very nervous-looking Spike turns around.

“Oh, uh, hi, Your Lordship,” Spike warbles. “Uh, I was just going home!”

This leaves Torch distinctly unimpressed.

“You don't get to leave unless I say you can!”

But someone comes to Spike’s defense, and Cadance’s eyes widen as she sees another dragon whom she recognises. A lithe she-dragon, her scales a brilliant cyan topped by a pale turquoise underbelly and indigo dorsal spikes, including at the tip of her tail.

“Dad, look at him. He's just a runt,” says Princess Ember, landing by Spike. “Besides, he doesn't even wanna compete. Let him go.”

Cadance has never taken a good look at Ember, but despite the cruelly curved white horns, twin to her father’s, and the red-pupilled eyes, there is kindness in the Dragon Princess’s face.

“He is rather tiny,” Torch agrees, finding amusement in the infant drake. “Heh-heh. I could squish him with my pinkie claw.”

Spike gives an uncertain laugh.

“That wasn't a joke,” Torch says sternly. “When I want you to laugh, I’ll say ‘be amused!’”

“Of course, Your Lordship!” Spike hurries to say. “I, uh, guess I don't understand dragon customs. Another reason why I shouldn't compete.”

“Hm.” Torch sighs. “Very well then, little dragon. I release you.”

And Spike thanks not only the Dragon Lord, but Princess Ember.

However, as he goes on his way, Cadance overhears an argument between father and daughter. Apparently, Ember has a mind to compete in the Gauntlet herself. But Torch is having none of it, telling her she isn’t much bigger than Spike, and her counter-argument that she is smart finds itself promptly overruled. Torch’s entrenched opinion is that it takes a big, strong dragon to lead.

Growling, Ember flies away to parts unknown.

In the meantime, there is conversing amongst the dragons. Each of them has an idea for what they’d do as Dragon Lord, and yet while some are harmless-sounding, others pertain directly to Equestria. In fact there is one drake, a tall red one, who has a rather specific idea.

“When I’m in charge, the first thing I’ll do is get revenge on those puny ponies!” he says with a grin, “they might think they’re tough, but they’ll regret ever having crossed me! We'll take whatever we want from Equestria and then burn the rest to cinders!”

“Like what?” a smaller orange dragonet, herself not much bigger than Spike, actually asks.

The tall red one sighs in irritation. “Whatever we want, Smolder. I heard they’ve got a lot of crystals somewhere– could make for a massive hoard.”

Recognising that of which he speaks, Cadance gasps in dismay. However, before she can speculate on any of what she has just seen, the scene abruptly cut elsewhere.

Namely, it now shows Spike with a pair of binoculars watching over something in the distance. Squinting, Cadence makes out that he is watching a collection of dragons at the top of a cliff, facing Torch and the Celestial Sea. Furthermore, a green flame hovers atop Torch’s head as his unmistakable voice booms out.

“Looks like it’s about to start,” Spike says in an uneasy tone.

He is not alone. Cadance sees her guess was correct. Standing by a discarded rock-coloured textile, Twilight and Rarity hold watch with him.

“You’ve made the right choice, Spike,” Twilight says, in the tone of a big sister telling her kid brother he’s a good boy. She, too, has that rougher look. There is grey in her mane. “After Chrysalis and Sombra, Equestria can deal with anything. Even if Garble were to win, he’d be in over his head.”

Rarity stays quiet. Her face shows less conviction than Twilight’s.

“I guess…” Spike says, resuming his viewing.

Lord Torch gives the starting order, sending the dragons flying over the sea to their destination, a volcano island.

Very soon the contestants are hindered by violent spouts of water, shot by massive eel-like creatures rising from the depths.

Some dragons are knocked into the sea-water, some aren’t and keep flying, but what catches both Cadance and Spike’s eyes is the red one, Garble, who gets knocked back by one water-spout and crashes into a dragon masked in armour.

Garble manages to recover and keeps going.

As for the other, though– 

“I want to leave,” Spike suddenly says, putting the binoculars down.

Cadance cannot blame him. Judging by the air bubbles in the sea-water, at the spot where the unlucky armoured contestant fell, slowly fading from view, Lord Torch wasn’t lying when he warned how dangerous this contest is.

And it appears no-one else is going to take notice...



* * * * *



The scene then changes one more time. This surprises Cadance, to say the least.

It is the rocky, barren Dragonlands, again, but under cover of night. All seems quiet, barring two cloaked figures making their way through.

One figure, obviously Spike given the voice, whispers at the mouth of a mountain’s cave. “Alright, this should be the place. She said to meet her here. We should be safe, Rarity.”

“Are you sure, Spike?” The other figure is indeed Rarity. However, something is different about her. The note of anxiety in her voice is familiar, but there is another layer lurking underneath it. “We… we don’t know if this Dragon Lord will be as amicable as she claims.”

“She’s our only hope, Rarity. And trust me, she’ll want to see you.”

Rarity doesn’t look all that encouraged by this, yet before she can respond, there comes a gust of wind from the mountain’s mouth. Thankfully, it does’t rob them of their cloaks, but this does make it difficult to stand in one place. The two of them stare towards the cave mouth, which now sports a lone, glowing green eye amidst the darkness.

“Who approaches?” The voice speaks like a smoldering fire. Despite the display, Spike stands and faces the eye.

“Spike the Dragon.” He then gestures at his companion. “And Rarity of Equestria. We’ve come to request an audience with the Dragon Lord. She should be expecting us.”

There is a pause. A pause that seems to last longer than it should have, as the eye focuses upon Spike and Rarity. And even then, Cadance almost wonders if the eye has seen her as well.

“A pony, and a dragon named Spike… of all the possible names…” The eye closes itself. “The Dragon Lord will be with you shortly.”

Spike and Rarity share a look of confusion.

“So you’re not–”

“I never claimed such a title, young drake. And even then, I’ve no desire to lord over anyone. I am content with what I have, after ages of life. You, raised by Equestrians… hrm… I will tell you who I am. I am the oldest dragon that remains of a time forgotten by most. I’m the Dragon Elder, Spike. I am the Chaoskämpfer. And I remain to guide.”

“Whoa.”

Rarity steps forward. “Dear Elder, I ask you, could you tell us anything about the Dragon Lord?”

“Element Bearer of Generosity, your concerns are born from that which looms over your homeland and people. You hope for asylum and protection, that much is evident. You needn’t fear, for this Dragon Lord is more merciful than many.”

Rarity breathes a sigh of relief at that. In little time after, a flapping of wings is to be heard, as a figure flies to join them. To Cadance’s surprise, she knows who this is.

Dressed in skirted armour and bearing a sceptre strapped to her back, the Dragon Lord comes. Spike and Rarity look to her whilst the Chaoskämpfer opens the proceedings.

“I present to you, visitors from Equestria, the Dragon Lord.” 

The orange dragonet lands next to the mouth of the cave, gracefully. 

“Smolder.”





The blue light of Cadance’s horn winked out as she brought herself back to the waking world.

She released a deep, deep breath. That had been hard. Cadance wondered how Aunt Luna would have done it. But dragons’ resilience to most forms of mental ensorcellment, she reflected as her eyes contemplated the huge, quietly stirring mass lying in front of her, was not overstated. Although he had given in eventually, no homonculi had been left to patrol, no wards had been placed upon Spike’s mind.

This path remained open to her.

“I’ll be back soon,” Cadance whispered to the other creature in the cave. “Take good care of him.”

The Crystal Bard bobbed its ghostly, kindly head, careful not to let the white crystals which jutted from atop hit anything, least of all the dormant Spike. Its blue eyes twinkled, and it resumed the book it had been reading to their patient when she’d come in, The Dragons on Dazzle Island.

But while Cadance navigated her way back through the maze that separated the Crystal Bard’s underground home from the concealed doorway in her Citadel’s library, her mind was aflame. She had so many tasks at the moment, and Shining would only be back home for a few days, before his duty as High Captain took him back to the Hall. What she was envisioning was tricky.

Yet after seeing one Spike, she saw this with clarity. Hadia reminded her so much of Twilight. Master Sunburst had declined her invitation to take part in Twilight’s research trip to Saddle Mareabia, but he’d been happy to be approached by the Crystal Princess, and when she’d come back to him saying she’d need a tutor for her ward, he’d agreed on the spot.

So, Hadia would now have a tutor. But she didn’t have a Spike. Or anyone else.

If Saddle Mareabia was giving her Hadia, then perhaps she should give this to Hadia. The little Spike, at least, would no doubt be ecstatic to revisit the Crystal Realm, where he was a hero.





~ The Hall of Unity ~

At the foot of Mount Metazoa and its Hall, a most peculiar geographical features of Equus found its source. Here below the North face of the moutain, one of the four waterfalls which eternally poured down all of its faces met the ground and formed a stream. A tiny trickle, truly, by the time the water had finished its long descent, yet resilient as all running water. Further along, on its downward path across the crevices and screes of the Arimaspi Mountains, that stream joined with a multitude of other miniscule tributaries borne from the rock, shaping to become a veritable river. A river in full flood, by the time it roared out of the Arimaspi Mountains, but passage through the San Palomino Desert and Ghastly Gorge quieted it some, until finally it reached a woodland that gave it a name; Everfree.

Sint Erklass observed as Ilsa gingerly deposited Alexander Reiner, whose legs still had not regained full mobility, into a waiting wicker-seat. Testimony to the human’s grit, he didn’t in the least seem shaken to have ridden, bareback, a Reindeer in flight.

Down by the riverbed along the plain, a few leagues away from Mount Metazoa, with the terrain too impractical for Alexander’s wheelchair, a beige carpet had been draped upon the ground, the wicker-seat in its centre.

They were not alone with the human. Awaiting them had been Princess Ember, the coltan canister she carried everywhere by her side. Her arms folded, the Sceptre in one claw, she gave Alexander a characteristically indifferent glance, then grunted a greeting to Sint.

“And hello to you, Princess Ember,” smiled Ilsa. “You said they’ll be here soon?”

“Yes,” Ember said coolly. “If the Chaoskämpfer says they will, then they will be. But if you’d just tell me what this is about– Ah. There they are.”

Everyone stared at the river. Something huge and alive was rising up from the waters, and Sint saw the top of the emergent mass was nothing short of a mop of hair. 

“‘Loreal, it’s because you’re worth it,’” he heard Alexander mutter dazedly.

While the exact meaning of those words was lost on Sint, he caught on readily. The intonation reminded him – with some distaste, he had to admit – of the feeling behind the ‘Goops’ natural beauty product which had become such a hit on the Equestrian market recently.

After all, how fitting was that for a plum-purple dragon sporting the most fabulous blonde bouffant, not to mention moustache?

“Oh, hello!” exclaimed the sea-serpent, dripping all over the place, before sighting Ember and her Sceptre. “Your Lordship! I, wow, so sorry, hadn’t realised there’d been a Gauntlet already…”

“I’m not the Dragon Lord,” Ember said, sounding as if the very words hurt to enunciate. “I’m his representative to the Concordia Maxima.” She twisted a knob on the canister. “But with me is the flame of Chaoskämpfer Spykoran, Elder of Dragons. I summoned you on his behalf, dragon.”

“Please, call me Steven,” said the sea-serpent, unabashed. “All my friends do. Oh my, oh my, the Dragon Elder? And who’s that– Oh my, is that– It is! Them Reindeers who bring presents? My mate Cranky told me all about you guys! Yeah, that’s what I said, ‘my mate Cranky’, not my cranky mate, though he is cranky, well, bit less cranky now he’s found his lady-love–”

And then his eyes fell upon Alexander in the wicker-seat.

“Wow, is this an actual, mythical human?” said the sea-serpent, whose exuberance never seemed to abate for long. “Golly, always wanted to see one with mine own eyes… But,” added the serpent, now he’d spotted that Alexander’s legs were limp. “Oh my, this is just terrible!” He gave a mournful howl. “To see a poor wee thing hurt, by my patch of river! Well, not patch, but my riv–”

“Master Steven,” Sint interrupted, in a quiet, yet authoritative rumble, “Do not fret. Yes, this is a human, and he is being well cared-for. In fact, it is so you can help this human that Spykoran wishes to speak with you.”

But Alexander, astonishingly, was trying to suppress a grin from his ordinarily stoic face.

“I’ll be damned,” he said. “A dragon called Steven… Wait until Bauer hears about that one.”

Ember, conversely, looked just more and more irked, even as she finished unlocking the canister. With the final twist, the emerald-green flame rose, a steadily swirling pillar which paused in mid-flow as if considering its surroundings.

“You have come, sea-serpent,” the Chaoskämpfer spoke. “That is good,” He then paused, and a little of his flame billowed Ember’s way. “Thank you, dragonet. You may leave us.”
 
Ember’s jaw dropped open. “What?”

“I must bid this serpent’s assistance in a matter not for all ears,”, explained the Chaoskämpfer, sounding apologetic. “I do not doubt your valor, Ember. Don’t think this is because you are not Dragon Lord– I’d keep private council on this as much from Torch. This is for the human, and Princess Celestia’s family.”

It worried Sint to see Ember positively seething, her knuckles whitening around her Sceptre. An angry dragon, however small, was never comfortable company. But, all she did was shoot Alexander a furious glare, and spread her wings in preparation of flight, 

“This won’t take long,” Ilsa told her gently. “Come back in an hour, Princess.”

The only reply she got was a strangled growl from Ember, who threw the Sceptre to the ground, taking off in a violent gust.

“Oh my,” the sea-serpent said. “I– I’m sorry if I upset anyone–”

“The fault is not yours,” the Chaoskämpfer said quietly. “But I wish you could have been called upon sooner. The ponies say you are not normally hard to find, in the Evefree River, yet you have been missing of late.”

“Oh, yeah… See…” the sea-serpent said bashfully, “My mate Cranky– I told you ‘bout him, right? Seeking his lady-love and all– Well, guess where he found her, in Ponyville’s, that’s right! Right next to where I live! And when it just two bachelors, you know, nothing wrong in hanging out all the time, but when your mate’s found his lady-love, got to give them space, so I took off for a w–”

“And that is noble of you, sea-serpent,” the Chaoskämpfer told him. ”But now I must request your aid in an endeavour nobler still. This human–” The flames billowed at Alexander,  “–has lost something precious to him. We believe it fell into your river. But the ponies have searched the Everfree area for weeks and found nothing.”

“‘Precious’?” The sea-serpent’s eyes gleamed with interest. “I mean, I know what it is people think about us dragons, but we sea-serpents aren’t like that at all about shiny things– Now, if it’s sparkly or glittery or shimmery–”

“It’s a locket,” Alexander spoke. “Heart-shaped locket. It’s red. It belonged to my mother.”

That got the sea-serpent to stop a moment.

“Oh…” he whispered. “Oh, oh my… So it’s got sentimental value?”

Alexander glanced away. “You could say that, yeah…”

The sea-serpent drew himself up to his full height, which, seen out of the river, was actually rather impressive, towering a good fifty feet over Sint himself.

“Then fret not, wee human,” announced Steven, “As the Dragon Elder requests, I shall comb every inch of my river, until your treasure is found, no matter how long it’ll take!”

“We would thank you for it.”

But the sea-serpent hadn’t even waited to plunge back in, spraying them with river water.

“Let’s hope he succeeds,” Sint said quietly, wiping himself off. “If not even a sea-serpent who knows every inch of his river can find the locket, we’ll have to conclude it was washed away.”

“Or that Redheart never threw it in at all,” Ilsa noted. “Shame we can no longer ask her…”

“It’s an object of great power,” said the Chaoskämpfer. “I saw it used many times, in days gone by.”

“I…” Alexander hesitated, eyeing the canister. “I still can’t believe you knew her… Megan.”

“Not only her, but her brother and sister, Sir Alexander,” the Chaoskämpfer said softly. “But were it not for Megan, and Firefly the Brave, I forever would have been a slave, to the Lord of Midnight Castle…”

“Tirek the Red,” Ilsa said darkly. “He was from before my time…”

“A blight on the land, Ilsa,” Sint cut in. “Rejoice that you never witnessed his reign. It surpassed Discord’s in deceit. Grogar’s, in cruelty.”

“Firefly, though...” mused the Chaoskämpfer. “What became of her? I heard that in her later years, she retired to live with… You, the Reindeer…”

“And for many, many years, too,” Ilsa whispered. “She lived long enough to witness the coming of Celestia and Luna. This, I was there to see.”

“Aah…” sighed the Chaoskämpfer. “A good place in which to be, at the end… But… I had hoped she and Scorpan would find their happiness together.”

This sent a spark through Sint’s age-old system.

“Scorpan?” he said. “The brother of Tirek? I knew he’d turned, and sought afterward to atone for his complicity… But Firefly never mentioned anything about her and him.”

“Yet it is so. And despite the things he did, I mourn Scorpan. He was my protector from his brother’s worst cruelties.”

Alexander rubbed his chin. “You know, if you know all this and more,” he said, “I’m not sure what exactly Lyra’s gonna do on her Expedition, if she finds this… Dream Valley.”

“She can bring back proof,” said Ilsa. “Relics and artefacts, long-buried remnants that show what life was once like, in a place the Equestrians have consigned to myth and for which even we, long-lived though we are, hold only a piece of the puzzle. Where the past lives only in our memories, the labours of a mortal such as Madame Heartstrings can give life back to it.”

“I get you,” Alexander sighed. “To be fair, I’m not a scholar. But I don’t want my people forgotten.”



* * * * *



Ember was still glowering as she flew up the face of Metazoa.

She hated this. None of them thought her worth taking into their confidences. Not her father, not the Chaoskämpfer – not even Garble, keeping his hobbies hidden like that. Nothing had changed for her since attending the Convocation. As far as they were all concerned, a dragon only cast a long shadow when it had size to match.

These were her thoughts, flying up the imposingly tall, oddly wind-free mountain.

Was it any wonder she hadn’t even sent word to Torch that she’d be joining the green unicorn’s Expedition? The Chaoskämpfer hadn’t even sought to dissuade her there, in fact he’d encouraged it, curious to see Dream Valley again for himself, and his canister needed a carrier. But he wasn’t aware Torch didn’t know.

‘Dad can’t forbid me from doing something he doesn’t know about.’

She could have asked the Chaoskämpfer to relay the news to the Dragon Lord, through his flame. Instead, she’d decided she’d write a letter. Torch had insisted on the Kirin giving her the education he’d never got. Well, then let her father hear it from his secretary. Blacktip should have gone to the Convocation anyway, not her, for all the good it’d done her.

Past the mountainside, the Sun’s rays fell. A flicker of sunlight caught Ember’s eye, bouncing from an odd angle as, weirdly, the light seemed to reflect something in the clouds that wasn’t there. For that instant, Ember thought she spotted the shimmering outline of an airship.

Her mind was playing tricks on her. She shook her head. No wonder, she was obsessing over this.

As she alit upon the landing platform, though, Ember was feeling slightly calmer. Perhaps even the tiniest bit guilty. At one time, Torch wouldn’t have opposed her going on a voyage, let alone one with the possibility of uncovering a sunken ship. He liked ships. At the edge of the Dragonlands, there was a whole creek filled with well-preserved carcasses of old vessels. Collecting the wrecks from the seafloor had been a hobby of his, and her mother’s…

Back when she had a mother.

‘Thorax,’ Ember thought suddenly. ‘I’ll go see Thorax.’

Thorax may be a drone, he was the only person who’d let her confide in him, no strings attached. That wasn’t to say she could tell him just anything, least of all about her parents. But spending time with him helped her relax. He liked it when she played guitar.

This time, Ember didn’t even bring her guitar. She went as she was.

Unfortunately, once she’d reached the end of the hallway to Chrysalis’ personal quarters, she was met by an unwelcome sight. 

It was not Thorax on guard at this hour, but his older, tougher, bitier brother.

Pharynx stiffened, eyes narrowing below his helmet. “What do you want?”

“You know what I want,” Ember said coldly. “We’re not gonna duke this out again. I want to see Thorax, and you’re not stopping me.”

“Oh, that’s a shame,” Pharynx sniffed. “Because Thorax doesn’t want to see you.” 

Ember had thought nothing could chill her blood. That she could wrestle a drake the size of Razer and laugh off the bruises. But those seven words hit her in the gut harder than any punch thrown in a fight.

“What?” she said. “But– no, you’re lying. Where’s Thorax?”

“Mind your own business, Princess.”



* * * * *



Pharynx was still feeling grouchy after the Dragon Princess had stomped off in a huff. He’d have enjoyed a rematch against her, but now he was under strict orders. Queen Chrysalis blamed him for starting the chain of events which had led to her getting punched by that pink princess pony. But she’d been worse than ever with Thorax. And he could not eternally undermine every humiliation or cruel trick the Queen had planned for his brother. All he could was stand guard.

Of course, although Pharynx had anticipated this very scenario, he still wasn’t quite prepared when something jumped onto his back.

“Aargh!”

His assailant had latched onto his barrel, chitin upon chitin, attached by wax, and Pharynx frantically grappled at it with his hooves. Alas, he couldn’t, for it was small and so annoying to shake off. His horn lit up, reaching at the little bug that refused to let him go even as he kept furiously struggling, and grasped hard at it. Or rather – at her.

With all his strength, he cast Aphid off, and he watched her slide across the polished floor. Undeterred, the little Changeling stood up. He hissed aggressively. As did she. And when they eventually paused, staring each other down, Pharynx harrumphed.

“What are you doing here?” he asked hotly. “Get lost, you parasite.”

He’d called her worse before, but the persistent bug never left his or Thorax’s side. No matter how many times he’d shaken off her near-daily ambushes. Perhaps it was his fault, partially. Making the best of it, he took it as good practice for a real attack, and Aphid’s presence did make the Hive livelier.

Not today, though. 

“I’m leaving,” said Pharynx. “I’m not waiting for the Queen. It’s Thorax’s turn.”

The smaller Changeling scuttled past him, sat down in the doorway, and stared at him.

“Go away,” he spat. He was met by a raspberry. Very mature. “I mean it.”

Aphid shook her head energetically, though the ill-fitting, dark-blue helmet she wore didn’t match her head’s movements.

Then a thought struck Pharynx, bringing him to touch his forehead.

“Wait a second. Is that my helmet?”

A pause. She shook her head. She’d always been a bad liar.

“Ugh. I don’t have time for this. Give it, Aphid. Now.”

Another pause. Then, with her head bowed down, Aphid took off the helmet, and gave it to him. Pharynx harrumphed, placing it on his head. He looked around. It should be his brother’s shift. Yet, Thorax was nowhere to be seen. 

He turned, and glared at Aphid.

“Aphid,” said Pharynx. “Where’s Thorax?”

Aphid glanced left, and right. Pharynx groaned.

“Listen here, you little…” Pharynx spoke up, but Aphid had scuttled up to him, put a hoof against his mouth. Her eyes were wide and clear. She pointed at the doorway. Her hooves traced a heart, before she cut a line through it. Finally, she pointed out the balcony.

As the gears inside his head were turning, Pharynx saw her retrieve something from her satchel. She held the mistletoe aloft before his disbelieving eyes.

It had a scent to it. Everyone had a scent to them, when their love came up to the surface. Queen Chrysalis smelled of sulfur, scented by the Ebony Hive when her love for them and their conquest of the Wedding poured out from the Palace balcony. The Princess of the Night’s lavender scent sharply pierced Pharynx’s senses when she’d come across him ruin her lavender. Aphid’s, so often did he smell hers before, right before she jumped on him and entered a scuffle, was the morning glory.

Now he smelled wild dandelion coming off the mistletoe, like those that grew infrequently near the Hive before the patrols cleared it. Like those bulbs and seeds Thorax would try to grow in hiding until inevitably, the other drones would come laugh and stomp them… And Pharynx would swoop in, like an elder brother should, and drive them off.

The smell of dandelion and roses was familiar to him, hanging in the air whenever Thorax had muttered thank-yous over and over, holding him in a hug. Now, he…

’What’s this?’

The smell was unfamiliar to him, a musty, herbal scent. Something that reminded him of the Kirin, of the talks exchanged between the Queen and the Dragon Princess, when she spoke of the inane traditions in the Court…

“I told him, to stop with this stupid pony-tale of his…”

Aphid tilted her head. At that, something bubbled hot within him, and Pharynx let out a low, hissing growl.

“Fine.” He slapped the mistletoe hard onto the ground. “Let him have his way, then. See if I care.”

Aphid’s jaw dropped, and she gasped. She shook her head rapidly, her mouth forming little ‘no’s. But Pharynx didn’t particularly care, gritting his teeth and pawing at the ground as his frustration and anger and anxiety bubbled up.

“Stupid, stupid little grub,” Pharynx growled out, making Aphid wince, and he did not care if he meant it for her or his idiot brother. “Why in the Hive would he leave–”

“Ahem,” someone cut in, from the hallway.  Its voice was cold as Winter snow, deep and scratchy, “Captain Pharynx. And Aphid. I was looking for you.”

Few Changelings could ever invite such a skin-crawling feeling. Such as the creep who’d arrived. Pharynx turned right around to meet him in the eyes – that cold pair, much like most within the Ebony Hive.

“Coxa,” said Pharynx simply. No need to entertain him with anything further. Where Pharynx tread in the light as a soldier, the spymaster of the Ebony Hive had little need for appearances, preferring to slink around the shadows.

Coxa stood as tall as Pharynx, if a little leaner, and more decrepit. There was no denying that Changeling’s uncanny ability in mimicking a dried husk. Or perhaps that was just how he normally looked, judging by the condition of his rough chitin, weathered from innumerous spy operations. Either way...

The spymaster inclined his head, expression impassive. His narrowed eyes moved from Pharynx, then Aphid, then back at him.

“What’s going on here?” he intoned raspily. 

“We’re doing nothing much. Is there a problem?” rebuked Pharynx. 

“The Hive tends to its Queen, need I remind you,” countered Coxa. “A soldier and spy...” His gaze moved over to Aphid at that, “should know better.” He shook his head. “Especially if there is a runaway Changeling.”

Pharynx’s blood ran absurdly cold.

“Coxa–”

“Mind your tongue,” Coxa said. “You aren’t in the Queen’s good graces at the moment, Pharynx. You know the rules. The Queen will want to hear about this… matter, of the Hive’s. Our eyes and ears only.”

Before Pharynx could reply, Aphid had already begun to mime, waving frantically, gesturing at Pharynx. What she meant, Pharynx hadn’t time to decipher, for she froze when Coxa threw a withering glare her way.

“Talk, Aphid,” Coxa said coolly. His voice lowered to a dangerous whisper. “I’ve told you, you’re intolerable when you play charades. I get enough of those on the job. Drop the act, now.”

Silence fell. Aphid’s eyes darted between Coxa and Pharynx. When they fell upon Pharynx, they looked almost pleading. But there was nothing for it. She took a deep breath.

“... O-okay,” she said, barely above a whisper.

“Good. I’ll want a word with you later. We need all our spies at the ready,” Coxa said clinically, his stare still fixed on Aphid. “Now, if that’ll be all. Follow me. Don’t try anything funny. I’ll know.”

He turned, disappearing into the green-tinged gloom.

Although neither Pharynx nor Aphid said anything to each other, a part of him wondered just what she was thinking.



* * * * *



Sometime later, Pharynx and Aphid stepped out of the steam-baths, where they’d delivered the news to Chrysalis. As they walked away, Pharynx decided he needed to set the tone sooner rather than later.

“Well, that’s done,” Pharynx said softly. “We shan’t talk about it again.”

Once again, it had happened. It would now be the same as when Kevin had fled the Hive. Thorax, if he’d ever been anything more than a name on a drone, was not even that anymore.

Pharynx tried his best to ignore Aphid’s waving beside him. He was also certain that he’d asked her to stay away afterwards. But Aphid never was one for listening. Once she’d waved too much, tapped his shoulder too often, Pharynx swivelled around with a cold glare.

“You know what I mean,” he hissed, irritated. “Go away.”

Aphid shook her head, sitting on her haunches. She pointed back at the room they had both only  just left. Then she tiptoed, lightly bopping Pharynx’s forehead.

He snarled. “‘What do I think’? I think that what the Queen says, the Queen does. Forget it, Aphid. Thorax is gone, and don’t ask me why I didn’t tell Her Majesty you let him go.”

Aphid rapidly shook her head. She mimicked an elephant’s trumpet noise, a little quiet in the hallways, pointed at both his chest and hers, then back at the room.

For a moment, Pharynx wondered what she was babbling about, talking of elephants standing in the room. Until he remembered, it was an expression. He’d heard that Changelings had a reputation amongst other races for literal-mindedness.

“You’ve spent too much time around ponies,” he remarked darkly. “Thinking that way. No, I’m not gonna say why I didn’t tell her. If you had any sense, you’d stop right there.”

Aphid bit her lip. Another pony thing to do. She shook her head, pointed at his heart, then at hers and out the window, her wings buzzing.

It made him angry.

“No!” Pharynx shouted. “He’s no brother of mine! A true brother wouldn’t run away like that. Not from his– Hive.”

He rarely raised his voice that way. Usually he’d lower it, when Thorax was around. Or Aphid. Perhaps she would run away now. Her as well.

Instead, Aphid looked wide-eyed. No tears brimmed there, but she tapped her own chest, and back at his. She moved to pat his shoulder.

And there, Pharynx no longer knew what to say. Ever since the little drone had inserted himself into his life, and Thorax’s, he’d had no idea what to make of her. Somehow, despite the considerably different circumstances of their births, she’d got into her head that she was more than one of Queen Chrysalis’ brood. A sister to two specific drones.

Aphid’s forehoof moved to his chest. She purred, raising a brow.

“Do I look ‘okay’ to you?” Pharynx scowled. “I knew this’d happen someday, I knew it. I’ve spent my whole life dutifully serving the Hive, and now all anyone’s gonna know me as is the guy whose brother ran away. And I fought that human to defend the Queen’s honour, and I lost.”

Aphid bit her lip yet again, hooves tapping the floor. Her mouth began to open, yet fell back shut. This repeated a couple of times. At last her forehoof pointed at his chest, and hers. She reared, mimicking a biped, then lowered her body to the floor, looking back up to where she’d been, emitting a hiss identical to Pharynx’s. She returned to her haunches, blowing a raspberry. She clapped her forehooves, in between pointing to the floor.

Before Pharynx could retort, she had bopped his chest again. Aphid wore a little smile.

Something about all this made him feel unusually weak in the knees. In all the time she’d spent pestering him, he’d never really thought of just why she did it. She may never even have ‘said’ it this expressly before. It was another twee pony expression, and didn’t even make sense. Changelings were naturally cold-blooded.

‘Who cares? You’re still my brother. You’re cool as hell. And I’m still here.’

Pharynx shook his head. “Look… Why are we talking about this? It doesn’t matter. All that matters is the job we’ve gotta do. For the Hive. It’s bigger than any of us. If you don’t mind, I’d like to get back to doing my job.”

For the umpteenth time, Aphid pointed at his chest and hers, then right out the window. All while she smiled gently. This was followed up by a pat on his shoulder, accompanied by a vigorous nod. The smell of morning glory filled the air.

She started to walk away. But it was as he saw her retreat that Pharynx heard himself call out.

“Wait. Aphid? Come back here.”

The little drone circled around, to meet his gaze, eyes twinkling. He sighed.

“Aphid…” Pharynx began, in a subdued voice. “Could you… give my back a massage? I feel like it’s been hurting… Must’ve been that duel against the human. Took it out of me more’n I thought.”
 
All Aphid had to give was a gentle nod. To begin with.

It was also all either of them had to say for a time. Not when they passed any other creature who was enjoying the bathhouse that day. Not when they passed the doors to a spare steamroom. Not even when Pharynx lay on the massage table, face down, and Aphid hopped onto his back and began her marvelous work with her dainty forehooves.

Only when his shoulders sagged and relaxed. and he let out a deep breath, did Aphid lean closer to his ear, her voice gentle and sweet and soothing in all the ways Chrysalis wasn’t.

“It’s okay~” she whispered, “I miss him too.”

Pharynx said nothing to that. But nor did he need to. It was the elephant in the room.





~ Gallopoli, Equestria ~ Day 16 of the Convocation ~ Twenty-Fifth Day of the Month of Rophon, Year 3 of the Era Harmoniae ~

Teatime by the seaside, Sunny Skies mused, was as fine an activity as any. Here in the premier inn at Gallopoli, The Morningtide Inn, she found herself basking in the Sun, its rays bringing the welcome warmth of the early days of Summer, reflecting off her dull white coat. Perhaps she ought to let it set a little later than usual.

‘Author,’ she reminded herself. ‘I am an author of children’s books.’

Yes, she was indeed. Sunny Skies, five-times-featured author at Equestria Daily, elusive and mysterious, a playwright beloved by children throughout all of Equestria, the Griffish Isles and beyond – and soon, the Crystal Realm, too. To obtain a permit from the reigning Crystal Princess, Guardian of Love, Foalsitter to a Thousand Children, would surely be trivial.

Adjusting her shoulder-length dyed blonde mane, braided halfway, Sunny hummed an old tune. She wondered whatever lay next in store for her. The last few years of her– of Celestia’s rule had been so eventful.

‘Perhaps one of the old classics would do. Hmm… but which one... ’

One glance at Claire, sitting across from her, boisterously recounting her misadventures in touring Equestria, gave the answer. Macintosh Hills’ Tranquility at the Bridge was an old poem, but one Sunny saw fit to adapt for children. For however old the tale had been, the essence and message of a warrior’s stand continued to resonate through the ages.

Both her sisters, Claire de Lune and Shale, would certainly agree.

Filing away the thought of ancient heroes’ tales for another time, Sunny Skies leaned forward, resting her chin upon her hooves, listening intently to Claire’s tall tales. They sat there, all three of them around the coffee-table, idly chatting as they were now, or simply taking in the view of the beaches around Gallipoli.

More on the former with Claire, chatterbox that she was, and more on the latter with Shale, who was listening intently to either Claire’s story about how Equusite politics had so thoroughly changed since her temporary leave, or the wind chime above the table. Either made sense.

“... And sadly, dear sister,” Claire remarked, shaking her head, “the only politics I know better than Sunny here would be Earth politics.”

“Truly?” asked Shale, raising an eyebrow. She shot Sunny a knowing glance. “Well. Perhaps you can fill Sunny in on a few things, then.”

That was her cue, Sunny decided. “Yes, ahem…” she said, rubbing her chin as she did so. “I was wondering about, what was it, the militaristic theocracy in place in the United States of America. How does that work?”

“Oh, it isn’t a theocracy.”

“But the motto is, and I quote, ‘In God We Trust’?”

“I know, right? And please don’t get me started on whatever the People’s Republic of China is. That one is an ideological mess. So much theoretical infighting in the discourse, and that’s from a quick glance.”

“A failed workers’ paradise, is the impression I’m getting,” Shale noted wistfully. “If I’m parsing what you’ve said correctly. But no less powerful for that.”

“You’ll have to lend me your books on this, Claire,” Sunny sighed. “It's all very complicated. And those are the two empires who provide the backbone of humanity’s alliance against the Co-Harmony Sphere? Such feedback does make me wonder about the people we’re helping…”

“I’m certain Captain Reiner can arrange to send us the books we need,” said Claire, huffing. “But this ought to be your side of things, Sunny. You shouldn't feel too worried, really! You’ll catch up in no time.”

That was true enough. In Sunny’s spare time, she had so often read of other, faraway lands, from Neighpon, where Lu–Claire’s old teacher had hailed from, to the treacherous Peaks of Peril, rumoured by some to be where the nefarious Nirik resided.

Another idea for the list, then. But nothing Sunny couldn’t handle.

“I suppose I shall,” Sunny said at last, smiling, to the cheer of Claire, and an acknowledging nod from Shale. No sooner than Claire had returned to regaling tales of strange religions, did Sunny wonder if there was a market for a happy-go-lucky, flighty unicorn mare to write about.

A glance at Claire, who’d slammed the table with all the grace of a rhinoceros, her mane left wildly astray and sunglasses ajar, guffawing at her own joke, provided the answer.      

‘Well, Sister,’ thought Sunny, grinning as she took a sip from her cup, ‘I do hope the royalties will be enough… Heh, royalties.’

Never mind the royalties, of course. Claire would, without a doubt, greatly appreciate it, given her flair for storytelling, from days spent under the Northern Lights, wishing upon a star…

Shale, at that moment, chose to speak up. “Allow me to apologise,” she said, adjusting the goggles that rested upon her forehead, flicking her braid aside. “But we have… shall we say, other matters to tend to.”

Sunny blew a loose strand of her own mane away. She had hoped this could wait, but perhaps this hope was for naught.

“Must we speak of business so very soon?” lamented Claire, lowering her sunglasses. But Shale’s gaze only hardened, her hooves tapping in a steady rhythm on the table.

“I truly am sorry, Claire, seeing how I had requested your presences, but...” said Shale, her voice trailing off. She reached into her saddlebags, and withdrew a pair of old journals. “Time is… running short, and though I wish… I wish we had more time–”

“I understand,” said Sunny. “What troubles you so?” 

Her gaze shifting left and right, Shale withdrew a sharp breath.

“I met him,” said Shale. “The one called Scorpan.”

A pause. “Scorpan?”

“Yes, a name, repeated within these journals,” Shale explained, tapping the weathered tome before her. “A tired old fellow, with batlike wings and a weathered gaze. Thrice I met him, thrice I turned his offer down, and he went on his way each time. The first was soon after the Pillars of Old Equestria disappeared, and the Tree of Harmony sprouted. The second, when Discord took power and cast you two aside, temporarily. And the third was...”

Her voice trailed off, her gaze turned to Claire. A shadow came over their eyes, Sunny’s face twisting into a frown.

“The Nightmare, yes,” Claire said, teeth grinding. “You turned him down thrice. Why?”

“Because he carries with him a safety-measure, he told me. Something he created with Clover the Clever, from the Tree of Harmony. A great Staff to wield the Sun and Moon, should the right magic be given to it.”

“Why have you not mentioned this before, Sister?”

“It did not seem relevant,” Shale admitted, pushing her cup. The haunted gaze she wore did not escape Sunny’s notice. “But the name has come up too often, like his brother’s, for mine eyes to ignore it.”

“That does not answer my question,” Claire insisted, “on why you turned him down.”

“Because I did not trust him to wield your birthright, Luna. Both of you,” Shale retorted. Her voice grew steelier, an unfamiliar fire flashing in her icy eyes. “Nor did I trust mineself, should he offer me the Staff. So I let him be, but assured him that if he were to harm a hair on either of you, I’d have no choice but to dispose of him.”

“My, a gentle fellow indeed,” Claire mused, chuckling, “if he could provoke your wrath.”

It was then, of course, that Sunny noted the rhythmic tapping of Shale’s forehooves, over, and over again, upon the journal. It was quiet before. Now it escalated, as did her voice.

“What more could I possibly do?” Shale countered. For a second, Sunny saw her lips tremble. “Thrice did I choose not to meet you, mine sisters, after so long. Thrice did I stand at the crossroads. And thrice did I deny him the chance to relieve or add to your burden. And after so many failures…”

Neither Sunny nor Claire spoke a word, when Shale trailed off. Her tea had spilled a little onto the table, prompting Sunny to lift the journal and put it aside.

“I’m so sorry,” Shale spoke, barely louder than a whisper. “But after this long… I should’ve been there when Starswirl and the Pillars disappeared, when Discord took the throne. When…”

She trailed off, and looked at Claire, her expression inscrutable. But a twitch at the corner of her lips caught Sunny’s interest.

“It was not your duty,” Sunny offered, reaching out to touch Shale’s forehoof. Though Shale remained motionless, training her gaze upon her half-empty cup of tea, neither did she withdraw her forehoof.

“No, it wasn’t. But I am your sister.”

Shale’s customary glare softened, and she looked away for a moment, looking out towards the open seas. Sunny thought, fleetingly, that her eyes glistened more than they usually did, the icy glare melted. She cleared her throat.

“May I ask something, Sister?” Sunny asked, emphasising ‘sister’. Shale glanced at her, a curious tilt to her head. “What became of this Scorpan?”

“I do not know,” Shale said. “I chose to remain in Equestria for a long while. I did not tread far from its borders, not after… after the Elements were used a second time.”

“Why?”

“Because that is mine duty,” Shale spoke, her tone even, “and that is reason enough.”

Her eyes had returned to their icy gaze. But, try hard enough to look, Sunny realised, and there was a glimmer of something beneath them. 

‘Sister…’ Sunny thought, wishing she spoke aloud. ‘Why must you be so… concealed?’

“And so it is,” Shale stated. “Well, I suppose we’ll keep an eye out for him, just in case.”

“Indeed,” Claire sniffed. “But if he has not made a move, I don’t see why he would now.”

“That isn’t quite true,” Shale cut in. Sunny cocked an eyebrow, and Claire’s gaze too fell upon her. “I am here, after all. What’s another immortal to add to the tally?”

Claire burst out laughing.

“Oh, Shale,” said Sunny, amidst Claire’s futile attempts to stifle her own giggle, “you’ve got plenty more to tell, I sense.”

“Too much,” said Shale. “The people of this realm can be so strange and so mundane.”

“If we must speak of business,” Claire added, “we must assess readiness, you know, when was the last time they prepared for battle, Sunny?”

It was already the point of no return. Their tea was growing colder by the moment.

“Well, there was the Wedding,” answered Sunny. “Still, the Guard’s ranks will need to be bolstered…”

“Hmm, I can’t say I’m familiar with the regular Guard,” Claire said. “What sort do you have nowadays?”

Oddly, Shale spoke here. “Vanhoover has a former weathermare for its Sergeant, I believe. Lieutenant by now, if mine estimates are correct.”

“Hang on, hang on,” Claire interjected, rubbing her chin contemplatively. “How do you know they have an ex-weathermare? I mean, pfft, I didn’t know, but how do you know?”

Shale glanced down at her tea, a moment.

“She and I had ourselves a talk, two months after you returned,” she said simply, taking a sip. “A nice talk.” She looked up, with a raised eyebrow. Claire was scrutinising her. “I meet people, you know,” she added, shrugging. “It wasn’t all ‘boring’, as you might think.”

“I see,” said Claire, clearly unconvinced. From the corner of her eye, Sunny thought she saw Shale hide an uncharacteristic smirk beneath her cup. But the moment passed, and with a shrug, Sunny returned to sipping as well.

Yet, with the chat shifting to the matters beyond their little get-together here, Sunny could no longer maintain the charade. She looked back and forth, between her sisters.

“Luna, Galatea,” she told them, with a sad little smile. “With all that said, well, I believe… our time is almost up.”

As she said it, her blonde mane shimmered, the magic within burning away the dye, letting the colours shift from pink, then turquoise and blue along with it. And when ‘Claire’ and ‘Shale’ looked back at her, Princess Celestia sat where Sunny Skies had been.

“This has been a most pleasant hour,” she said earnestly, her mane returning to its ethereal glory. “But… well…”

“Our task awaits,” Shale finished for her.

Claire, looking at Celestia and the disguised Galatea, let out a tired sigh, before she returned to her true form, as well.

“All good things must come to an end. And yet, I must agree with you, Celestia. It was a pleasant morning. Talking, sharing, drinking.”

“I’m glad you think so,” said Celestia. “I only wish we had more time.”

“And we shall,” Luna said, offering her a wink. “I suppose we’ll gather here again, sometime. We have got our own… matters.”

“Yes, I think we do. Don’t worry, I’ve given Kibitz and Miss Inkwell advance notice. They’ll be happy to ease you in.”

“Funny, Sister, how I once would’ve been just thrilled to rule by my lonesome,” Luna mused, “yet I know not if I should envy diplomatic overtures or menial labour.”

Celestia, they had all agreed, would have to remain in the Hall, overseeing diplomatic proceedings. It was her, after all, who remained as keen and knowledgeable as ever in memorising each and every little treaty Equestria had signed over the centuries.

It had taken a promise from Celestia that every little loophole and law would be taught to Luna, over the following weeks, by letter correspondence, for the other diarch to accept temporary monarch duties over Equestria.

“Don’t fret about mine labour,” said Galatea, shrugging. She alone had remained unchanged, in her earthpony form. “It is not something one should envy, least of all shipboard tasks.”

“Indeed,” said Celestia, feeling a giggle build up. “And, Luna, I really do think you ought to lend Lyra your books first.”

“But I haven’t finished reading them! It shall me take some time to transcribe them...”

“Don’t they have multiple copies? The PHL would be happy to answer your request,” said Celestia, giving Galatea a cheeky glance,“ and Twilight would certainly appreciate extra material for the Hall.”

The freckles on Luna’s cheeks darkened. “Oh. Oh yes, quite, ahem,” said Luna. “Very well, then.”

Galatea was first to stand. “If… there aren’t anything else, I believe we ought to prepare soon.”

Luna cleared her throat, all of a sudden.

“Oh, do you have something else in your mind?” asked Celestia.

Her little sister remained quiet, for a good few moments, under the stares of both her sisters. Then she shook her head, her brows furrowed.

“No, nothing,” she said. “Nothing at all, Sister.”

A moment’s pause. A smile formed on her lips. A sweet, happy smile.

“I saw something else on Earth, Tia, Galatea,” said Luna, her voice light and breathless. “I saw Pipsqueak. He has a family…” 

Celestia returned her sister’s smile. Galatea’s listened with interest. All was well.





~ The Hall of Unity ~

“Do we have the tea ready, Luna?” Celestia was saying later on.

“More than enough for the entire Concordat, if I do say so myself,” Luna replied. “It’s too late to go back and shop for any more!”

“Wonderful! Then, we’re all set…”

Exchanging a nod with Luna, who stood at the kitchenette, meticulously setting up the teacups, Celestia gazed over the rest of her room from her bed’s vantage point. Her aura wrapped around the big, fluffy pillows, arranging them into comfortable positions. Close to a dozen people would be attending this little gathering in her chambers, and she wanted to be ready.

Galatea returned from the balcony, silhouetted by Celestia’s own setting Sun. “The flowers have been watered, all according to Luna’s instructions,” she said, lifting her goggles. “I… hope this will suffice.”

She sat herself down on one of the pillows, wiping sweat off her brow. Celestia smiled at her, but it was Luna who spoke first. “Did you arrange them as I requested?”

“I have,” said Galatea promptly. “Have you got any coffee, Luna?”

“Way ahead of you, Sister.”

A cup of coffee passed by Celestia, held in Luna’s aura, to come to rest upon the coffee-table, followed by two sugarcubes and a muttered ‘thank you’ from Galatea. A moment’s quiet reigned while she took a sip.

“Ahh, this coffee tastes delicious,” said Galatea, “but still, I feel…”

“Anxious?” Celestia finished for her. She moved off the bed, joining her sister’s side. All three of them were unadorned, save for Galatea’s goggles. Even her patchwork cloak had been taken off, hung on the coat rack. “I can’t say I blame you, but we are soon to be amongst family. Come now,” she said, draping a wing over Galatea, “we’ve already seen you let your hair down, as it were. Why should this be different?”

“I’m not used to appearing like this in front of so many people,” Galatea mumbled, casting her eyes over her alicorn figure, wings unfurled as she stirred the coffee by her lit horn. “I don’t even have mine travelling cloak on.”

“You showed yourself to our confidantes in the library,” Luna remarked. “And then there was the birthday party.”

“Your birthday party,” Celestia added.

“Yes. One was a formal occasion, the other was…” Galatea briefly hesitated. “Small, low-key. I wasn’t lying when I told you I don’t get to have fun very often. Not as the alicorn Galatea. Actually, I rarely allow myself downtime.”

“Hm,” said Celestia. “That reminds me. Sister, did Luna ever tell you what happened the last time I went as… well...”

The air around her shimmered with an ethereal glow and the light touch of Celestia’s wing upon Galatea’s withers grew lighter. Feeling the shine recede from her body, Celestia knew she stood now before her sisters as Sunny Skies.

“Little old me?” Celestia’s smile had gone sheepish. “It was a year ago. A street urchin had stolen the Alicorn Amulet, you see. So I took it upon myself to find it, I who know the ins and outs of Canterlot, hoping I could get it before the Saddle Mareabian delegates arrived... but..."

“But?” said Galatea.

“It was all a bit much,” Celestia admitted. “I forget how hot the Sun feels when you’re not physically acclimated to it. The day was boiling, my hooves chipped with every wrong step, and I thirst so easily as a pegasus. Worst of all was the anxiety. Goodness.”

Clearing her throat, Galatea idly stirred her coffee. “And then?”

“Well, I found the urchin, set her free from her wicked aunt,” Celestia said proudly. “Although,” she continued, her face falling, “I’m afraid I wasn’t in time to stop Mistress Shadowfall selling off the Amulet, which then turned into Twilight’s problem… But most of all, it’s at times like these that I wonder how many of my ponies live a desperate existence, like young Scarlet Petal, all because Princess Celestia cannot be everywhere at once.”

Sighing softly, she chose this moment to pat Galatea, ruffling her wings, much as she used to do with Luna in the coldest days of Winter.

“When I see you, walking among the people in these historic halls– yes, I see you, Sister– that’s when it gladdens my heart to know all this time, there hasn’t been only an alicorn to take inventory of our accumulated wisdom, or an alicorn to safeguard our dreams, but one who watches over our people– looking out for us.”

Ironically, Galatea seemed unable to quite look her in the eye, contemplating her coffee instead. “That might only be half-right,” she said. “I’m still not sure our Mother planned I should mingle with mortal folk. All I remember is she tasked me to watch you. Nothing but watch, when for so long I…”

“When for so long you what?” said Luna, as Galatea left her words hanging.

Galatea swallowed. “I wanted to meet you. Both of you, mine sisters. And now, that’s done. But… I hadn’t expected to meet a whole family. Believe me, Luna,” she said, eyeing the Princess of the Night. “I haven’t many regrets, yet one of mine greatest is how even after you lost yours, I could not step forward.”

Luna said nothing, but her trembling lips told Celestia enough. Unspeaking, Luna returned to the kitchenette, where the kettle had begun to whistle. Celestia, aware she had not yet reverted her pegasus guise, gazed at her sister’s back, before looking to the other alicorn present. Something passed behind Galatea’s icy blue eyes, her lips parting… 

There was a knock at the door.

“I’ll get it,” Luna said, perhaps too loudly.

Which she did, hurrying so that Celestia only just had time to resume her appearance as Princess of the Sun, stepping away from Galatea. A gap remained in their relationship, this much was evident, yet Celestia wanted to believe the gulf was closing.



* * * * *



Some time later, Celestia’s spacious quarters had filled up in short order. Once every new arrival had been received, greetings exchanged, everyone including young Spike given their cup of tea, the late afternoon gathering had become about waiting until her Sun reached just the right angle in the sky for the promised family snapshot. In the meantime, naturally, people split into groups. Luna, by the kitchenette with Sint Erklass. Twilight was conversing with Ilsa by the coffee-table. And Galatea had found herself with Blueblood and Spike.

“I’m glad you were able to come for the day, Cadance,” Celestia smiled at her niece, standing close to the balcony with Shining Armor. “They don’t have days off aboard a ship in sail, you know, and Galatea’s expended all her shore leave-time just so she could be with us today.”

“I would never miss this, Aunt Celestia,” Cadance said softly. “Not in a million years.”

Shining nuzzled her fondly. “You should go talk to Twily, love,” he said. “She’ll be going to Saddle Mareabia in a few days, after Lyra Heartstrings leaves on her Expedition. Last chance you’ll get for a while.”

Cadance’s eyes swept the room. “You didn’t invite Lyra, Auntie?”

“I thought about it,” Celestia admitted. “But it’d have felt… false, I suppose. I love Lyra very much, like I love all my students, but we never had any… special relationship.”

“That all reminds me,” Shining put in, addressing Cadance. “How’s our little ward doing, Candy?”

“Well…” Cadance said slowly. “I’ve left Hadia in the care of Autumn Gem and Master Sunburst while I’m away. He seems reliable, hard to think he’d ever be one of those ponies who committed to the Solar Empire… But I privately told Autumn to watch him closely.”

“Mmh. And Hadia?”

Cadance glanced to one of the other groups. “Hopefully I’ve got that covered.”

She was looking at where Blueblood, Galatea and Spike were talking. From what Celestia heard, Blueblood had been trying to impress them with stories of his joyride aboard the Starspear, but the results were mixed.

“And I’m going to the Crystal Realm!” exclaimed Spike, puffing up his chest. “You should see how they treat me, heh-heh.”

“Oh  you silly little drake,” Blueblood said, patting Spike’s head, “how would it compare to an Expedition into the very Unknown?”

Galatea gave a cough. “Now don’t you go saying you've experienced life, not until you've seen others from the bottom, Astron… And you know I'll be looking up at you from the lower decks.” Her eyes glanced at a spot behind his haunches. “It’s quite the sight.”

“Galatea!” Blueblood blushed, his white cheeks a startling pink even beneath his golden beard. “That’s so wrong. You’re technically my aunt…”

“A statement on class struggle,” she smirked, unbothered. “Nothing untoward, don’t you worry.”

“Uh, what?” Spike inquired, scratching his head.

“I’ll let you in on it once you’re older,” Galatea said. “Now, what was that about the Realm?”

Celestia didn’t hear what Spike replied, or reprimand her sister, as she excused herself from Cadance and Shining. Those two, already, were going to say ‘hello’ to Twilight and Ilsa. 

Momentarily alone, Celestia crossed onto the balcony and into the open air. She hid her grin. Blueblood, always good for a laugh. Pity he’d never had the chops to be her student. Her eyes beheld her setting Sun.

All her living family were gathered here…

Save one.

Celestia’s grin faded. Luna had never known her, but Blueblood and Cadance missed her dearly. Blueblood, especially, had never truly been the same after losing her to the Crystal Mirror.

Sunset Shimmer. Blueblood’s first girlfriend, and Celestia’s former student, and more.

At times, Celestia still felt hers was the blame. Between those three, there had been affection, yet Sunset’s ambitions had overcome her in the end. Perhaps Celestia should have trusted her more. When she’d taken Cadance from Florentina, she’d believed it was Cadance who’d assemble the Elements and free Princess Luna.

After Sunset too fell, Cadance had shown her the way. A handsome young schoolcolt she’d found love with, who had a baby sister, a magical prodigy. The most promising spark since Celestia’s greatest student, Radiant Hope of the Crystal Realm.

With the vanishing of the Realm had gone Radiant, and Luna, and hope for a new age of crystal. A millenium, haunted by failure, by promise unfulfilled… Until Cadance.

“Cadance…” Celestia whispered to herself. “I always used to wonder. Where you came from. Odds that in a thousand years, you'd be the only scion of Luna's I ever ran across were... astronomical.” Pause. “But now I must look at your old story, your confrontation with Prismia, in a new light… And a suspicion takes root within me.”

She returned inside. Seeing her stride in, laden with purpose, the room fell silent. Celestia glanced at Luna, who’d stopped mid-conversation with Sint. They had prepared for this.

Celestia locked eyes on her niece. “My apologies, Cadance. But… I need you for something.”

“What is it, Auntie?” Cadance whispered, Shining stroking her withers.

“A lullaby, from the Crystal Realm,” Celestia said softly. “A lullaby for Hearts & Hooves Day. It was Princess Amore’s favourite… She used to hum it for her daughter, Radiant Hope, all the time…”

Luna spoke up next, coming over. “Radiant would sing it whenever we paid the Realm a visit. She thought it might make me smile,” she said, wiping a tear away, “and it did.”

With grace in her heart and mind, Celestia began to sing the song of old.



~Join voices, every child,


In Winter turned harsh and wild.~



~There is only one solution,


And we have made our resolution.


We shall lift our spirits to the sky,


Our hearts grow full and our hooves rise up high.~



~Hooves cold, hearts warm. Cold hooves, warm hearts.


Oh, Spring of Garden Hearts, we all take part…~



And when she was done, not a soul dared to speak. Not Twilight, wiping a tear away with a hoof, not Sint, who hung his head in somber silence. Not even Galatea, who’d turned her sorrowful gaze towards Cadance.

“Cadance?” Celestia said.

Cadance’s eyes were glistening. “I know that song.”

Luna touched her horn against her heir’s. “When Cadance and I went on that visit to Florentina, a few months ago,” she stated gently, “she and I dove deep into her memories. She told me she wanted to find her earliest memory.”

“And… and we did find it,” Cadance whispered, smiling through tears that rolled down her cheek. “Deep, deep down… I heard her. I heard my mother.”



* * * * *



It all went by like a breeze. Many stories were shared, between all those who had gathered. Cadance seemed content, at least, to reminiscence about her childhood in Florentina, to a curious Spike and melancholic Galatea. Yet the song lingered in Celestia’s mind, even as the matter passed, with Luna next informing them of Darkhoof’s proud remark about her broken armour, now that it had proven itself worthy on the battlefield.

“And I had wanted the gauntlet fixed,” Luna had remarked, and shrugged, “but I didn’t want to ruin his cheer. I suppose it does have a style to it now.”

Galatea had fewer stories to tell, but what little she did mention, from her time in Manehattan University, to building a bridge at Trottingham, certainly charmed them all.

At last, when all was said and done, they gathered at the close.

A fine photo-camera on a tripod had been procured, and it did not take much for everyone to wrap up their matters and gather for the shot.

It was Celestia who sat at the centre, the only one sitting, as she’d arranged for the photo in the first place. A memento, she told them, one last calm before the coming storm. Then Luna went to her left, with Twilight in tow, fresh off a discussion on succulents to accompany one’s studies. On her right, Cadance and Shining stood, sharing that same, cheerful grin. Maybe, in the end, they’d convinced Ilsa to join them for Ogres and Oubliettes, after all.

The Snow Maiden herself chose to stand by Twilight’s left, flashing both Luna and Twilight a friendly smile. Magicians, the whole lot of them. Whatever collaboration they surely were planning, she could hardly wait.

Next came Blueblood, tidying himself the best he could, both mane and beard, standing by a rather surprised and mildly annoyed Shining Armor, although this evaporated as Cadance greeted Blueblood with a happy smile.

Galatea and Sint were the last ones to enter the frame, both of them tallest of all those present. They stood at each end, Sint to the left next to Ilsa, as always, and Galatea to the right next to Blueblood. She must have spoken to him more than expected. With luck, they’d have a few tricks to teach one another.

Celestia returned her gaze ahead. Now only two were missing.

The little drake she called son was fumbling the camera, telling everyone to hold their smiles. Twilight rolled her eyes, and levitated him over, to be seated before Celestia, right in front of her forehooves and close to Luna’s. Spike threw her a nervous glance, yet Celestia smiled serenely, as her aura lit up the camera.

As for the other…

Well. There was still space, next to Spike, for a young mare. If she was here, and Celestia doubted that she’d want to be, then she’d be there, lying down, resting a forehoof on her chin. Maybe with that usual scowl of hers.

Or perhaps a smile, a gentle smile like all the others. A fool’s hope, to think that Sunset Shimmer could even care. But a hope Celestia clung to, just like how she’d hoped that she would be here, where she belonged...

And, with only a moment’s hesitation, the camera flashed.



* * * * *



It was only when the door closed on the last guest, that Celestia turned to address her sisters. She’d asked them to remain behind once everyone else had left. A moment’s pause, a frown from Luna and a curious glance from Galatea followed, but they’d said yes.

“Luna,” said Celestia, swiftly, “how could Radiant’s lullaby have survived unchanged, down the family line? You and I both know stories change, with each retelling.”

Her sister scoffed at that. “I do not think it so outlandish at all,”  she said, “if the Crystal Realm… no… no, wait...” She shook her head, frowning. “Perhaps Cadance remembered wrong.”

“‘Remembered wrong’?” Celestia repeated. “You’re a dreamweaver, so if anyone can ascertain that she remembers right, it’s you.”

“If you have something to suggest,” Luna said, frown deepening, “then out with it.”

Celestia glanced at Galatea.

“Sister. In the years that followed the Realm’s fall, how many crystalponies have you seen? And how many of Amore’s line?”

Galatea blinked, expression twisting into a grimace. “No… I cannot say that I have, to either of your queries. None escaped the Crystal Realm, I’m sorry to say.”

“Are you certain?” Luna cut in.

“Yes. And… Luna,” Galatea said, voice softening, “Believe me that I tried. I went to search. But… Nothing. The only conclusion I could reach was that Sombra’s purge was complete.”

“But– Cadance, what did you make of Cadance? When, when she emerged…”

Galatea shook her head. “I… had presumed she was another disciple, like Miss Shimmer. Nothing more than that, until I met her, and the rest of our family. She may not bear your colours, Luna, yet there is no mistaking Amore and Radiant in her.”

Celestia spoke up. “You said you could sense other alicorns.”

“Only when you first raised the Sun, and when Luna first wove a dream, did our latent connection emerge, Sister. Since then, I’ve watched both of you for a very long time. I’ve watched your family flourish. And I could even see the bonds coalesce around those few talented enough to become your student. I felt it with Radiant Hope. But I did not feel such a bond with Cadance, not until she ascended.”

Luna opened her mouth, but remained quiet.

“I know what it feels like, Luna,” Celestia said, brushing Luna’s mane with a feather. “Losing Sunset has given me time to reflect on the loss of your children. They were my family, too. And Radiant… when the Realm returned, I wanted to find her too. I wanted to set things right with you, once more, and yet… I cannot help but wonder.”

She looked deep into Luna’s eyes.

“What if Radiant did leave the Realm, before it reemerged?” 

Both Luna and Galatea let the silence hang heavy, the implications settling in.

“And never come forward?” Luna finally said. “I… I don’t know, Tia.”

“But if you’re saying what I think you are,” Galatea said. “How did Prismia know? Unless… No, this still doesn’t answer how Radiant, or Cadance, could stay hidden from me all those years.”

“The only explanation which makes sense is that someone was hiding them,” Celestia said ponderously. “And what if it were also that someone who one day brought out Radiant? Sisters, if the traveller whom Cadance encountered in childhood truly was the Architect of the lost era, she may be less a stranger than any of us knew.”



* * * * *



Ever since he’d remembered the office at the Hall of Unity, the Headmaster had felt a youthful temptation to revisit it. While it had taken him some time before he indulged, it was no empty pursuit. Back when he’d been the head of Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns, there’d been a particular aura surrounding his offices. As Headmaster, he should be grand, at home in his personal study, reassuring. If he ever used his designated office at the Hall, it would be homely. Such an office needed to be inviting to the other peoples of Equus, neither superior, nor inferior, but nicely centered.

‘I never had this office,’ the Headmaster thought contritely, as the pen continued scribbling upon the parchment. ‘How cosy. This Equestria’s Nexus has a sense of home.’

Alas, simplicity was not a quality he possessed. Because this former Archmage, above all else, had become so accustomed to complexities and duplicity, he’d limited himself to writing letters, rather than directly approaching whom the message was for.

‘And, done,’ the Headmaster thought as the pen finished its work. ‘A message to send by magic rather than dragon fire, or electronically… the joys of innovations.’ 

One more time, he took in the office that wasn’t his, the owner busy preparing for an expedition. Plenty of inviting objects decorated the whole space. Different types of dragonscales, diagrams of various Changeling types, an old wooden Diamond Dog figure, and so much more. Any of these items would invite conversation, or provide familiarity to a foreign visitor. The purpose was simple, to put guests at ease.

But the most imperative items remained on the finely-stained and treated timber desk. Pictures. Their frames custom-made, with appropriate epitaphs. One for the Princesses of Sun and Moon, per his title as Archmage and old friend of the Sun. One for his family – his half-brother, his half-sister-in-law, and his half-nephew. And lastly, one for his students, for those fillies who all had their own potential to be greater, and had accomplished so well.

At least, most of them had on this Equus.

‘Bound without choice,’ the Headmaster thought, in regards to the filly who bore magic. ‘A troublemaker gone astray,’ was his thought about the filly with plenty of showmanship. ‘Murdered without care,’ this thought aimed towards the filly whose lyre was never cut. And, ‘Lost once, found again,’ a thought for the filly whose ambition shined like the Sun.

For the goddaughter become no better than a cultist, all he had was, ‘A disappointment, such a terrible disappointment. Will there be a hope for tomorrow, if any?’

Sighing, he prepared to folded and sealed his letter, preparing to send it–

Part of the parchment found itself literally cut by magic. Or rather, a magical weapon.

“In your dreams, Headmaster Nexus,” said a voice. “That is not how the story goes.”

In lieu of an immediate answer, the former Headmaster chose a different tactic. While his instinctual, or paranoid response would be to retreat first, his eyes moved towards the one who’d spoken. Although he’d found that voice unmistakeable.

The very last of those dear students. With all he’d taught her, the one whom it hurt on the most personal level to contemplate. How could she have chosen this, to lower herself to being the Tyrant’s executioner… 

“Really now?” he asked calmly, despite the pain starting.

The chorus was getting restless. Especially since there were plenty of them who’d been on the other end of her weapon.

Her, the pale mare. She wore no hood. Bold as brass, she stood in the shadow of the doorway, though he had heard no door open, or shut.

“You think this is my dream we’re in?” the Headmaster stated, subtly summoning his magic to push away the orichalcum blade which had sliced his parchment. “It is a beautiful one, but not of my making. We’d be dancing now if that were the case. They have parties here, in case you hadn’t noticed. It’s not too late to attend one. Wouldn’t that be just like old times?”

Her eyes glinted humourlessly beyond the edge of a raised weapon. The sheared piece of parchment fell to the desk, as the loose shard reassembled itself with its twelve siblings that together comprised the orichalcum sword.

“Your sentiment has lost none of its charm,” she said, “but you know as well as I the festivities cannot last in this realm, now our fight is brought to their doorstep– It’s too late to change that. But not, I think, to let go of your hold on the past. You’d have Equestria encased in amber, if you could keep it as you want it to be… That did not work out so well for your goddaughter, did it?”

“One disappointment is not equal to another, Weaver,” the Headmaster said briskly, despite the chorus’s call. “And if I could have Equestria as it should, then your hooves would be clean and I would be at peace. But the dream is not dead. And I won’t let you ruin this world as you’ve done to the others. There is a reckoning building against you.”

She listened to him with solemn mien, her aura covering the parchment piece on the desk.

“So. You still bear the Architect’s Amulet,” said the pale mare. “But you’re not alone to hear that chorus in your head– I have known many who hear it. You alone, however, have dabbled in arts forbidden to the Solar Empire, wrapped as you are in the past– in death, over rebirth. Had Redheart succeeded, I would not be here. But then,” she added, eyes lighting knowingly, “that is why you are, isn’t it? Because she died.”

He saw her taking the parchment piece.

’Stop her. bloody her as she bloodied us…’

“Stop,” he ordered. “I’d sooner not fight you. We know what the outcome would be. Yet I shall do it if I must.”

“Tell me,” she said placidly. “My identity is still safe with you? Whatever this parchment’s contents, I feel confident that isn’t what you were writing.”

‘Betrayer, ruiner–’

“It is so,” the Headmaster said. “Because in spite of it all… I remember what you once were…  Who you were going to be. It mightn’t be too late to turn before the night falls.”

Despite the face she wore, there was a hint of contemplation in her eyes.

‘‘Punish her! Suffer as we–’

“I wonder…” she said, lowering her weapon. “When this Equestria exists, do you have as much reason to keep the secret? But you’re not the only one who’s been hiding another’s identity.”

He blinked. “What do you mean?”

“You know much, Headmaster,” said the pale mare, smiling thinly. “You know Starlight is far too valuable a prisoner for us to hold the crudest methods over her head as a threat– killing her would be a waste. And her willpower, too strong to risk bending her brilliant mind out of shape. Yet you know too, wondrously, it is in Erebus she came closest to redemption, through love.”

With another of the fillies of potential, yes.

Indignation, his rather than the chorus’s, began to boil. “What are you playing–”

“I have harmed innocents, you know this,” she interrupted. “I do not pretend otherwise. But Miss Lulamoon has been no innocent, even after her release. Nevertheless… I’ve done nothing to harm her, when I’ve long been in position to do so easily.”

“Why?”

“Why do you think? She was my ace-in-the-hole against you.”

As his face turned ashen, the Headmaster understood her game.

“Her secret remains,” she said, pocketing the parchment in null-space. “But… I have not kept every secret. The PHL believe the old Palace blueprints will give Miss Lulamoon an opening to extract Lord Discord… They do not know the Empire has been forewarned. And how do you think Starlight would feel about that?”

The Weaver met his eyes, boring into his soul.

“The door lies open, Headmaster,” she said. “Go, I shall not stop you. Unless you do, after all, prefer that shade of Queen Celestia’s student you extracted from the Mirror, so she can finish replacing your goddaughter.”

At a moment’s notice, his form rippled ever-so-slightly. By Changeling magic, his body changed to become draconic. As he reached out, she reacted in turn by fragmenting her sword into pieces. Pieces that, with precision, would slice through him like shrapnel from a human’s explosive. Despite the pain he would feel, he continued and reached out to grab her in his claw.

His transformed eyes glowered into her own, to which there was a banality. No fear, nothing. Despite the chorus, despite his own irrational response, the Headmaster knew this illusion wouldn’t solve anything. She was ready.

And even then, what would facing her now accomplish?

Taking a deep breath, the Headmaster shuddered the weight as best he could. There weren’t any other options. 

“... Damn you,” he whispered as his horn glowed. "Ferrier."

Yet, all while knowing it was bait, he vanished. Pulled back and away, with no trace left behind.