Night's Favoured Child

by Municipal Engines

Lullay, Dear Twilight

Most ponies assumed the Inquisitor would have a hobby or two. After all, with a dusting of grey in the sides of his mane, he looked about the age where a respectable gentlestallion would have a few ways to pass their spare time. Some might gamble or paint or start a collection. In that assumption, they would be wrong. The Inquisitor had taken up a vast number of hobbies in his life, and it made him seem quite the polymath.

One of these hobbies had been gardening. Although the Inquisitor had found it too time-consuming to continue, he still held a fondness for vegetation. That was why he favoured the High Garden as a spot for relaxation. It was a massive, cantilevered platform supported by equally large corbels, topped with patches of grass that carved up the bare stone of the plaza into geometric patterns. Laced throughout, beautiful trees and exotic flowers turned their leaves eagerly up to the moon, sucking hungrily at its silver light. Circular stone tables with swirling rococo patterns and cushioned stools offered comfortable dining with a breathtaking view.

The Inquisitor sat at one of these tables, just at the edge of the High Garden. The moon was especially dim that night, drowned by the heavy clouds heralding evening’s scheduled thunder storm, and so warped the colours of the world into shadowy shades of grey. Before him, the shrouded land of Equestria stretched to the distant horizon. Its rolling hills were coloured purple and blue by the darkness, while the river Canter was a ribbon of silver in the moonlight. Woodlands grew in shadowy patches all across the landscape.

While the ashen unicorn appreciated the softer shades that the starlight revealed, he found that he often missed the sun’s brightness and warmth. It had been so long since he had enjoyed the lazy bliss of a cloudless summer’s day. His diplomatic visits to the far regions of the world where the sun actually shone were cherished rarities.

He had brought some scrolls with him – reports and briefings – and he read them with a cup of coffee at the ready. Opposite him, little Twilight Sparkle was absorbed by her own reading material. She had completed her schoolwork rather quickly, and now enthusiastically devoured a novel. His Empress-mandated punishment of foalsitting Twilight was turning out much easier than he thought it would be. Give her a book and she’ll entertain herself for hours!

He looked back down to his report. The griffons had sent a secret envoy to the dragon overlord, Fostrun. That could only be bad news. He knew for sure that Fostrun held a centuries-old grudge against Equestria, only made worst since his  failed invasion eighty years ago. That bastard would jump at the chance to help the griffons dismember Equestria. The Inquisitor’s only consolation was that he would never so much as lift a claw against the Empire so long as they held the overlord’s offspring as a hostage. The only thing dragons valued more than their hoards was their young.

The grey unicorn sighed, gently massaging his temples. Grand, spur-of-the-moment decisions were exciting and created windows of delicious challenge in an otherwise mundane life, but  they often brought equally grand headaches. The Inquisitor began to wonder if he would regret his decision to provoke the griffons, especially since he made the mistake of doing so in person. They would doubtlessly tell the Equestrian sovereign in their next diplomatic meeting with her how insulting her ambassador had been in his veiled threats and refusal to exchange gifts. The stallion wasn’t exactly worried about Nightmare Moon’s inevitable questions – he had half a dozen different ways to lie or spin the situation in his favour – but there would be fallout, and he preferred not to incur his liege’s disfavour for too long a period of time.

He skimmed through other reports without much interest. They contained the usual news of minor political enemies and rebellious elements being defused, but nothing all that substantial. There were always dissenters, from the lowly pro-democracy pamphleteers to half-baked revolutionaries and assassins who were caught before their plots advanced beyond the earliest stages. But now and then, something exciting showed up, particularly revolving around the biggest and most elusive of the rebel groups. ‘The Harbingers of Dawn’. The Inquisitor rolled his eyes at the grandiose title. Who came up with that? 

Though most of the public was oblivious to their existence, those who knew of the group referred to them as Dawnists and regarded them as a lunatic fringe. Most of Equestria lived in the state of blissful ignorance regarding the day and the sun, thanks partly to the valiant efforts of the Blackcloaks in censoring most such information, and partly to the lack of interest from academics in teaching it to the younger generations. The knowledge wasn’t exactly hard to find if one went looking – indeed, most institutions of higher learning at least mentioned it in passing in their first history classes – but few ever thought to question it. That the continent of Midderland was blanketed by eternal night seemed as natural to a pony as the sea being salty. There was very little to worry about from the Dawnists; they struck most ponies as crackpots, and their worst actions amounted to the occasional raid on an army barracks or Overwatch hideout.

The reports soon began to wear on him.  They held nothing but the tedious minutia that agents seemed compelled to report when they had nothing of significance to offer, as if to justify their continued employment. The Inquisitor looked to Twilight again, now well aware of the silence that had lingered for so long.

“What are you reading there, Twilight?” he asked, leaning in towards her.

The little lavender filly looked up and showed him the cover. There was an illustration of a knightly stallion looking out over a mountain range, a dragon flying in the distance. “The Platinum Crown,” she said. “It’s about a knight who has to chase a dragon who stole a powerful artefact.”

“Sounds… simplistic.”

Twilight snorted a laugh. “Well, of course there’s more to it than that! He’s called Victory Guard, and he’s trying to prove his love for a stuck-up princess, so she decides to send him to hunt a dragon and claim its hoard for her. He finds a bandit mare along the way and she joins him in his quest, but he stumbles into a really big ancient conspiracy that has something to do with the dragon he’s chasing.”

“Let me guess. Over the course of the book, the hero and the bandit fall in love?” the Inquisitor asked.

“Well, I haven’t finished the book yet, but it seems to be going that way.”

He smiled. “That seems about right. I didn’t know you liked these kinds of stories, Little Spark. I thought you preferred non-fiction.”

The filly shook her head with giggly conviction. “No, I like all books. Educational ones are fun and all, but I do like to get lost in a really good story.” Twilight looked away for a moment, before meeting his eyes once more. “Um, Mister Inquisitor, do you know any stories? I mean, a pony in your position must have heard a lot of really good tales!”

Rubbing his chin with a hoof, the Inquisitor cocked his head. He certainly did know plenty of tales, though many of them were not appropriate for an innocent young filly of eight years. Still, he thought, if she likes knights and princesses…

“I know a few,” he answered, flashing his wry smirk at the young unicorn. “How would you like to hear the tale of the King in the Moon and the Lonely Prince?”

Twilight cocked her head, curious. “The King in the Moon?”

“Oh yes. The King in the Moon… it’s an old, old story. Older than the Empire, and passed down for generations before it was ever set to paper.” His voice adopted the hushed, excited tone of an elderly village storyteller. Twilight sat as still as a statue, staring at him with her full attention. “The story begins a long, long time ago in a land far, far away. There was a prince; an alicorn prince. His home was a tiny, tiny kingdom, and he was the weakest of the princes. His father was a vassal to the mightiest of kings and he often visited their court, where he became good friends with the king’s beautiful daughter. As they grew older, that friendship blossomed into something more.

“Unfortunately, when the prince asked the great king for his daughter’s hoof in marriage, the king rejected him and forbade him from seeing her. After all, why let this son of a minor vassal marry his daughter when he had offers from powerful emperors and the like? His heart broken, the prince fled deep into the forest and cried his heart out. There he stayed for nights on end, hoping to starve himself to death in his grief.

“One evening, far above him, the full moon shone brilliant silver, and there was a witness to the prince’s mourning. The King in the Moon, who watched the earth during eves when the moon was full, took pity on the young alicorn prince.

“‘Prince,’ he called down to the stallion. ‘Why do you cry so? Why do you hide yourself away from your fellow ponies?’

“‘I am too weak and too petty for my liege. He finds me unworthy to wed his daughter and has forbidden me from seeing her.’

“‘Do you love her?’ asked the King.

“‘I do, with all my heart.’

“‘I pity you, young prince,’ said the King. ‘I will help you, though I will ask compensation for my efforts.’

“The young prince was delighted and cried eagerly, ‘Name your price!’

“‘I wish to visit the earth,’ the King in the Moon said, melancholy filling his words. ‘The other alicorns do not like me or my kingdom much, so cold and strange as we are, and have forbidden me and my people from stepping onto your world. When you have your princess and rule beside her, you will let me come down to your kingdom whenever I want.’

“‘I gladly accept!” the prince said, all too quickly, too excited for his own good.

“‘Then the pact is made,’ came the voice of the King, and it died into an echo in the night’s wind.

“At first, nothing happened, but then the wind ceased to blow in the trees. The frogs and night birds fell silent, and even the crickets held their breath. Then the alicorn prince spied a ghostly silver glow coming towards him from the dark treeline. Like a scrap of moonlit mist, the glow slithered and flitted through the air, slowly drifting toward him. The air crackled with power as it drew closer. His hair stood on end and electricity shot through his body. He had never felt anything like it before; though it was only a faint light, it stung his eyes like the brightest Bright Moon. The glow grew brighter and brighter the nearer it came. It paused like a curious animal as it came within reach of the prince. At first he dared not reach out for it, though the power he felt was intoxicating. Then he hesitantly stretched out his hoof to the glow. There was a flash like lightning and a crack like thunder, and the prince slipped into unconsciousness.

“The next morning, he woke up feeling energetic and confident. He tried out a few simple spells, and was shocked to find how powerful he had become. Before, he had been barely stronger than the most powerful of mortal sorcerers, but now he found he could perform awesome feats of magic that were beyond even most Immortals. The prince set out to seek the permission of his love’s father.

“When he came to the king, he stood firm against the stallion’s anger and begged him for a chance to win his old foalhood friend’s hoof in marriage. The king, on the counsel of his wife, relented and gave the prince three tasks to test his strength, cleverness and courage, expecting that the young alicorn would not even pass the first test.

“The hopeful prince was sent to the borderlands, where a great conflict raged between the dragons and the king’s armies, charged with driving back the dragons and securing peace. Though a difficult task for many a veteran general and an impossible one for an untested youth, the prince drew strength from thoughts of his love and committed himself to protecting her father’s kingdom and winning her hoof.

“As he won victory after victory, the tales of his deeds spread far and wide. Faced with such a champion, the dragons’ nerve broke and they soon signed a treaty of surrender. The young alicorn had done in under a year what those of higher status could not in over a century. He returned to the king’s court wearing the laurels of a hero, leading the King’s armies while the generals hailed his deeds.

“Though grateful, the king insisted that he complete the remainder of his labours. For the next task, he gave the prince a riddle: to bring him a thing brighter than the stars that grew from a child of a skyless land. The prince puzzled over this for a very long time, for though he searched, he could find nothing that matched the king’s riddle. Eventually, he decided to take the matter into his own hooves.

“So, deep into the earth he dug and carved out a massive cavern. He then took a single seed and planted it in that cavern, watering it with his vast power. Though there was no light or water, the seed quickly grew into a huge, healthy tree surrounded by a lush field of grass. He presented the king with its fruit: a golden apple. Magical light from his horn was reflected by the apple, making it shine brighter than the stars.

“The king laughed as he took the apple, impressed with the prince’s ingenuity, and gladly gave the young stallion his final task. The king’s daughter was promised to another, a highborn warrior whose power and brutality was so legendary that even the prince, conqueror of dragons, feared him. The king told them that whoever won a duel between the two would have his daughter’s hoof in marriage. The prince and the warrior both accepted; the latter confident of his victory, the former unwilling to give up on winning his bride.

“The two fought a mighty struggle across field and mountain, through forest and waste, from the tops of the clouds to the bottoms of lakes and seas. Though the warrior was a fierce and skilled fighter, the young prince was powerful and determined. Finally, on a nameless beach of a foreign shore, the prince collapsed, battered and bloody. The warrior stood over him, laughing. ‘What made you think you could defeat me, little prince?’ the warrior asked.  

"‘Because I love her,’ the prince said. Suddenly, his wounds vanished; in his former weakness, the prince had learned to rely on trickery and deception, and his defeat had been feigned. He lunged to his hooves with a scream and drove his horn straight through the warrior’s heart!

“The prince and his love were married soon after that. The king gave the prince a dowry of land to rule as he wished. Together, the young alicorn and his new wife lived happily for many years.

“But one night, while the prince attended the birthday of his new baby daughter, the King in the Moon spoke to him once more. He demanded his repayment; he demanded to return to Earth in the prince’s lands. But the prince had become proud with the realisation of his dreams and his new power. He refused, fearing that everything he had worked for would be taken from him if the other alicorns learned that he had made a deal with the King in the Moon.

“The King in the Moon grew furious at this treachery. At first, he tried to negotiate with the prince. He offered the whole of the kingdom, the land of the dragons, the entire world, if only the prince would keep his word. But the prince would bargain no more. The King in the Moon threatened him, saying that he would tell everypony about their deal, but the prince laughed because nopony would ever believe him. The King in the Moon declared that he would take away the prince’s mighty power, and the prince shrugged that off as well. He already had everything he wanted; he had no need for the power anymore. The King in the Moon, now in a rage more terrible than ever, finally told the prince that he would receive a punishment for his betrayal that was beyond his darkest dreams. And then he vanished.

“The prince shrugged at the empty threat and returned to his wife and child. Slowly, however, he grew more aggressive and unpredictable. As the weeks and months passed by, these small changes became more and more pronounced until his body began to change as well. Slowly, torturously, the prince began to transform. His hooves were the first to change, becoming dragon claws and bird talons, and his legs soon followed suit.

“Though he tried at first to hide his deformities while he struggled to find a cure, he despaired as his tail and wings also changed, taking on the appearance of yet different animals. The deformities spread week by week, picking at his already volatile mind. Finally, as his face was twisted beyond recognition, he snapped.

“Driven to madness, he turned his vast power on his friends and family. The peaceful home he had won with the power of the King in the Moon became a wasteland in a single evening. And as he whiled away the lonely nights, no more than a beast among the bones of his loved ones, the King in the Moon watched from above and laughed at the sight of his vengeance.”

The Inquisitor stopped, smiling in satisfaction at his story’s end, feeling that he had done justice to the old story. He only noticed Twilight after a few moments of heavy silence. Her head just poked out from under the table, staring up at him with a shocked expression, her ears flattened in dismay. Oh dear, he thought.

“Tha… that was horrible!” the little filly squeaked, her voice wobbling. “D-don’t you know any nice stories?”

The grey stallion shrugged. “The good stories are seldom ‘nice’.”

“Says you!” Twilight scowled. “I thought it was going to be nice and romantic, but you made it end so horribly! That was… that was… horrible!”

“Well, you didn’t ask for a nice story. That’s the way it ends. But there is a moral to it. The prince was arrogant, and he didn’t give the King what was owed. That is a betrayal of trust, and the horrible, horrible ending drives home the lesson.” He smiled and continued with sarcastic cheeriness, “I trust you can take this lesson to heart.”

Twilight gave an adorable little pout. “I didn’t ask for a lesson. You were supposed to tell me a story.”

“Here’s another lesson for you, Little Spark,” the stallion said, leaning in towards her conspiratorially. “Everything, in one way or another, is a lesson. I just like to dress mine up as stories and tell them oh-so-bluntly.”

He flashed the filly wry grin, and despite the lingering dismay at his story’s downbeat ending, she cracked an uncertain smile. The Inquisitor then returned to drifting through his reports whilst Twilight turned back to her novel. From the corner of his eye, the ashen unicorn saw the filly fidget and frown thoughtfully. She continued like this for several minutes before turning to the Inquisitor.

“That prince… he was Discus, wasn’t he?” she asked.

“Hmm?”

“You said he planted a tree underground that grew magical golden apples. On the tour around the palace, the guide told us it was Prince Discus who planted the Hesperidium so long ago.”

“Oh… well, I guess the prince was Discus, then. I hadn’t really thought of it before,” the Inquisitor remarked.

Twilight nodded and broke away in thought before turning back to the stallion. “Was that what really happened to Discus? Did he get turned into a monster?”

“It’s just a story, Little Spark. As I said, it’s old, and so it has many, many versions. In some of them, the King in the Moon is a queen; in others, he outwits the King in the end and lives happily ever after. As for what happened to the real Discus…” he shrugged. “My guess is that he lived with his wife right up until the alicorns vanished.”

“Are there any other versions you know?” she asked.

The Inquisitor tapped his chin with a hoof. “Well, there’s quite a few more. A lot have him doing more tasks, like building great monuments or capturing Ladon.”

Twilight’s eyes widened with her smile. “Is he the one that made Ladon guard the Hesperidium, then?”

He answered her with an arched brow and a knowing smirk. “And why would you think that Ladon guards the Hesperidium?”

She blanched, swallowed, and tried act nonchalant. “I… read it in a book?”

“A book.” the Inquisitor said flatly. “What was it called?”

“Uh… ‘Figures of Ancient Myths and Legends’,” Twilight said, forcing a smile.

“Perhaps you can show me this book later?”

“I… um… I guess,” she babbled, the strain of keeping her lies together now plain on her face. “I mean, I’ve lost it. I can’t find it anymore.”

The Inquisitor allowed an uneasy silence to pass, staring her in the eye, before he finally grinned and said, “I know about the Hesperidium, Twilight.”

The unicorn froze. Her eyes bugged out as she stammered, “Wha… what?”

“I took the liberty of placing a system of security charms on the entrance to the Hesperidium some time ago. They alerted me to your entry, and I scried the tunnel to see what the problem was.” The Inquisitor allowed himself a sly smile. “I doubt the Empress gave you and your friend permission to go there.”

“I… I…” Twilight gulped. “I’m so sorry! Please don’t tell–”

The stallion lifted up a hoof and the little filly’s mouth snapped shut on the plea. She was almost quivering with fear under his impossibly dark eyes and that smile that was almost predatory in its casual superiority. The Inquisitor caught himself and offered a happier, nicer grin, raising his eyebrows for a gentler expression.

“Calm down, Twilight, I’m not going to punish you,” he said. She opened her mouth to speak, but he lifted his hoof again to silence her. “I haven’t told Nightmare Moon, and I don’t intend to. All right?”

“O-okay,” the little pony squeaked, and relaxed just a little. “Are… are you mad at me?”

The Inquisitor pursed his lips. “No, not at all. I mean, it was certainly very, very bad of you to steal the key from Nightmare Moon – I know she didn’t just give it to you – but there was no harm done. I certainly loved a little misadventure back in my youth.” Twilight perked up at his words, comforted by his casual tone and the realisation that she would get in no real trouble. “But, Twilight, you must never again wander into places that are off-limits. The palace is the centre of Equestria; its halls contain things that are definitely not for little foals. You’re lucky it was the Hesperidium you broke into and not somewhere more dangerous.”

“More dangerous?” Twilight ventured, eyes twinkling with curiosity. A narrow look from the stallion cowed her.

“I wouldn’t go looking for trouble, if I were you. You have some leeway as the Empress’s student, but the Hesperidium’s guardian is far from the worst thing you could disturb.”

“So there’s more things like Ladon?” the filly blurted.

“Yes. Things gathered from a millennium of searching. Things locked deep within the mountain, under the earth, in dark chambers far more forbidden than Ladon’s grotto. Canterlot is the ancient heart of Equestria, and Equestria has many, many secrets locked within the city.”

“And I’m not to go looking for them…” Twilight concluded wistfully.

“There’s plenty of fun to be had without hunting for things that have been locked away for your own safety. Haven’t you been having fun with the Empress and her private lessons?”

“I guess…” the filly said, her face drooping sadly. “It’s just lately she’s been a little… distant.”

The Inquisitor nodded and spoke to her gently, a soft conciliatory smile on his lips, “She has a lot on her plate at the best of times, and even moreso recently. She is the ruler of Equestria, after all.”

“She cancelled my last few lessons…” Twilight muttered. “I haven’t really been able to talk to her all that much lately.”

The stallion’s heart twisted at the little filly’s miserable pout. “Well, just remember that it’s not because she wants to avoid you or anything. I’m sure that she’ll soon be back to her old self, and you’ll have nice, long chats,” he soothed, before offering her an uplifting grin. “Besides, aren’t I fun to talk to?”

“Yeah, I guess…”

“You’re not going to get anywhere in life if you only rely on the Empress as a source of friendship. Someone your age should really open herself up to others, especially others your age.”

“Yeah, I know,” she said, though from her tone the Inquisitor wasn’t entirely convinced she was really going to heed his advice. “But I’m fine already, and I do have friends my age, it’s just that I don’t see them all the time. Like Orion, and–”

All of a sudden, Twilight sat up straight, as if a bolt of electricity had struck her. With wide eyes, she turned her head, frantically looking for something. The grey stallion flinched at the stark change in behaviour. After searching for several seconds to no avail, Twilight turned to fix her eyes with his.

“Do you have the time?” she asked.

The Inquisitor pulled out a pocket-watch. “About ten minutes past four.”

The filly gasped and slammed her book shut. “I’m so sorry Mister Inquisitor but I have to go!” she said, her words streaming out in one breath. She stood up and turned to rush away. “My friend’s probably been waiting at the reception hall for ages!”

The Inquisitor watched Twilight go. Her presence was a comfort, he had to admit. Even when they sat together in simple silence, he appreciated the company. It was a nice feeling, to not have to sit alone. Despite being ordered to look after Twilight whenever Nightmare Moon needed him, he found that, now he tried it, he wouldn’t have minded doing it voluntarily.

Perhaps Luna would not mind me adding to her education. The girl could certainly stand to learn a few things from me besides magic, if she is going to grow up in the palace, he thought. It would certainly allow him to spend more time with the foal.

A contented smile came to his lips. That was, he decided, a rather nice thought indeed.

==========

Twilight was gasping for air by the time she arrived in the reception hall. As there were virtually no foals there, it didn’t take her long to spy Orion sitting to the side at one of the tables, sipping at a drink. She trotted up to him, a smiling apologetically.

“Hello, Orion,” she said. “I’m so sorry I’m late. I didn’t realise what time it was.”

Her friend waved his hoof dismissively. “It’s all right. I didn’t mind, really. They suggested I wait here and let me order a drink. Do you want to get anything?”

She shook her head as she took her place in the seat opposite him. “No, I’m fine. How have you been?”

“I can’t complain. Still being run ragged by Miss Loch with the extra studies, training, and chores, but I kind of like it,” he said. “It gives me something to focus on.”

“So what’s the training about anyway?” Twilight asked with a little smile, unconsciously cocking her head at an inquisitive angle.

His brow creased slightly, as if he had to think about his answer. “Oh, it’s just the usual vocational stuff… uh, skills for life and work, that sort of thing.”

She rolled her eyes. “I know that. I mean, what is it specifically that you’re training in?”

“Uh, it’s not very exciting, really. Just a bit of handypony kinds of things: plumbing, mechanic skills and stuff like that,” he replied, the crease in his forehead disappearing.

“Oh, well, you’ll have to show me what you can do some night,” Twilight said. “In the future, I mean. Not right now, if you don’t want to.”

“Right… in the future…”  Orion looked away.

Though many would find it hard to read the colt, he had been Twilight’s close friend for quite some time. She noticed his shoulders sag a little and his ears twitch backward, just a fraction. Concerned, she leaned in towards him.

“What’s wrong, Orion?” she asked.

He looked back to her and smiled hollowly. “Nothing… nothing’s wrong.”

Twilight peered at him sceptically. “Are you sure? You can tell me what it is. Remember Orion, you can tell me anything and I’ll keep it to myself.”

The white earth pony closed his eyes shook his head, punctuating it with a sigh. “No, it’s fine. I mean, I’ll tell you later, but right now, I’d rather not spoil our afternoon together.” He opened his eyes and offered her a larger, seemingly more sincere smile. “Don’t worry about it.”

Now she really was worried. What could be bothering Orion so much that it might ruin their night if he told her? Is Blitz bullying ponies again? she wondered. Did… did somepony die?! Her eyes widened at the thought. She bit her lip to calm herself. No, it couldn’t be that. She’d have been told by Loch Mare or Orion soon after the fact if that had happened. Lost in her fears, Twilight was brought back to the present with the touch of a hoof on hers. Her eyes snapped up to Orion’s own cool blue ones.

“I said not to worry.” His voice was as gentle and comforting as he could make it. “Please, I’d like us to have some fun together without you driving yourself crazy over this. It’s not that big a deal, anyway.”

The little lavender unicorn sighed and, with a shake of her head, forced a smile back onto her own face. “Okay, Orion,” she replied. “I’ll try not to think about it.”

He rubbed her hoof reassuringly, then snatched it away with a slight blush on his face. Twilight giggled at her friend’s embarrassment, and Orion joined in with a small chuckle.

“So what do you want to do now?” he asked after they had their laugh.

Twilight hummed and tapped her chin with a hoof in thought. They had done quite a lot last time; between their fascinating tour of the palace, their adventure into the Hesperidium and her magical demonstration in the grove, she couldn’t think of anything that would surpass that night. Then, an idea occurred to her.

“Do you remember how I told you how I had a Flare during my entrance exam?” He nodded. “I hatched a dragon egg – which wasn’t supposed to happen – and now they’re taking care of the baby dragon in the palace. Do you want to go see him?”

Orion’s icy blue eyes sparkled with excitement. “A real baby dragon? I’ve never even seen a drag… well, I’ve never seen a baby dragon before.” He then frowned. “Are you sure it’s all right? I mean, wouldn’t it be dangerous?”

The filly shook her head. “No, he’s kind of like a baby pony, and he can’t breathe fire. He hasn’t even grown his wings yet.”

The white colt nodded and downed his drink, wiping his mouth with a satisfied sigh. “Well then, lead the way!”

They left the reception hall after that, the smaller foal leading the larger. Though this room was not on her usual circuit of most frequented areas of the palace, she had come to understand the palace better in the past two months. She was more comfortable in finding her way around, looking for landmarks and familiar corridors and rooms. They only had to ask for directions once, and Twilight was pleasantly surprised to discover she had been closer to guessing the right way than she had thought.

Along the way, they chatted together about all kinds of subjects, though mostly it was what she learned from the palace and its inhabitants. Orion was genuinely interested in the lessons from the Empress, marvelling at the rapid progress she made in her magical studies and enraptured by her retellings of Nightmare Moon’s first-hoof accounts of history. Her friend didn’t offer much to talk about; he was content just to listen.

“Twilight,” he said, pausing at the top of a staircase as she finished an anecdote about the time she helped Salt Wind cook. “Have you met any Blackcloaks?”

Twilight blinked quizzically at the sudden change of subject and looked over her shoulder at the colt. Instead of his usual stoic nonchalance, his face was set in a hard, serious expression. Twilight reminded herself that, while she might have grown  used to them, Blackcloaks were still scary to many, many ponies.

“Not really,” she said. “I mean, there’s the Inquisitor – he’s in charge of them all – I talk to him a lot. And there’s also his secretary, Thundersong, but I don’t really talk to her at all.”

“I don’t think you should spend time with any of them,” Orion said very seriously. “They’re all very bad ponies.”

Twilight shook her head. “Ponies are just scared of them because they’re supposed to be scary. If they’re going to stop bad ponies and criminals, they need to be intimidating. I mean, the Inquisitor’s really nice when you get to know him, even though he looks a little frightening.”

The colt didn’t seem convinced. “I just want you to be careful around them, especially this Inquisitor. Remember Ladon?” His voice shrunk to a whisper. “He was very nice and friendly, but don’t forget how dangerous he is. He admitted he’s killed people before. Don’t let your guard down just because somepony might seem friendly.”

“Well, the Inquisitor’s very kind to me, and the Empress says the Blackcloaks are good, and I trust what she says,” Twilight huffed. “If you met any of them, I’m sure you’d agree with me.”

“I don’t want to meet them,” Orion said, before sighing. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“Don’t worry, Orion,” she said, giving him a light-hearted nudge. “Even if somepony turned out to be a baddy, Nightmare Moon won’t let anything happen to me.”

A slight scowl briefly marred her friend’s face at the mention of the Empress’s name and he opened his mouth to reply, but quickly shut it. The usual neutrality returned to his features with a sigh and a shake of his head. Twilight was about to press him to say what he had on his mind, but then she saw their destination up ahead, a door at the end of the hallway.

“We’re here!” she called.

Twilight pushed the door open to reveal a spacious room. Tall windows offered a view of the gardens and allowed what there was of the dim night’s moonlight to stream in, though chandeliers and wall-lanterns lit the place well. The room appeared to be a drawing room that had been repurposed into a nursery. The wooden floor was home to a brightly coloured rug featuring fun little patterns. Toys of all kinds lay scattered around the place, from balls to building blocks to stuffed animals. To the bibliophilic unicorn’s delight, there were many shelves stacked with a plethora of children’s books.

A pair of nurses seated on a sofa, one pink-furred and one yellow, cut off in mid-chat and turned to the new arrivals with surprised expressions. Twilight waved sheepishly.

“Um, hi… I just thought I might show my friend, Orion, the baby dragon, if that’s okay with you,” she said, quite squeakily. “Sorry for not knocking,” she added.

“It’s quite all right, dear,” one of the nurses replied. She pointed to a little round basket on the floor in the corner. “He’s sleeping, so try to keep it quiet.”

Twilight nodded and ushered Orion forward, taking care to make as little noise as possible. They crept up to the cot, manoeuvring through toys strewn like caltrops. When she saw the little dragon, she immediately reacted how many little girls would.

“Awwwww!”

She simpered at the sight of the tiny baby, curled up tightly in fluffy pink blankets. The creature was covered in purple scales a shade or two darker than Twilight’s fur, though his underside was a trail of light green from his bottom lip to the tip of his tail. A dark green line of blunt, stubby spikes ran along his back, ending in a small crest on the top of his head. Ear-fans the same colour as his belly flapped happily in his sleep.

“What’s his name?” Orion asked in a whisper.

“I forgot what it was in dragonish, but it translates to something like ‘Spike’, so we’ve been calling him that,” one of the nurses answered.

Twilight leaned in closer to the sleeping babe, still beaming at the sight, and studied the ridge on his back. “Spike seems kind of fitting, I think. Though they aren’t very sharp.”

“I think they’re almost always like that, even when they’re adults. Though apparently some are born with sharp spikes, and many like to sharpen them.”

The filly turned to the nurses, grinning. “Like a manecut?”

The pink nurse smiled back, nodding. “Like a manecut.”

Then, behind her, Twilight heard a small, squeaky yawn. Turning to it, she saw the baby dragon had awakened. Spike peered up at her with curious green eyes, his scaly lips pursed in as much thought as a newborn could muster. Twilight cooed at the inquisitive little thing.

“Hello there, Spike!” she said.

Spike chirped in response.

“My name’s Twilight Sparkle, and this is my friend, Orion,” she motioned to the white colt beside her. “Say ‘hello’, Orion.”

“Uh… hi?”

Spike cocked his head at the colt.

“He’s too young to understand us, Twilight,” Orion said.

“It’s good to talk to babies,” Twilight assured him. “It helps them learn.”

Orion arched a brow. “You’ve read a book on infant social and mental development?”

The filly huffed indignantly. “No, I helped Miss Loch with the babies from time to time. She got me to talk to them and play with them when she couldn’t.” She sat down and crossed her arms with a pout. “I can sometimes pick up a few things without having to read them in books. It’s just that books are usually more helpful.”

“Yeah, okay,” Orion grinned at her before turning to look at Spike.

The baby was a curious little dragon, staring quizzically at the unfamiliar Orion. He padded over to him, quite bravely, Twilight thought, and sniffed the colt. She was scared Spike might bite her friend, dragon that he was, but it seemed the hatchling grew quickly bored of Orion and went off on a quest of exploration around the room.

“He seems a bit like a dog,” the colt said, earning a glare from Twilight for his tactlessness.

“Dragons learn how to behave like normal people as they grow,” a nurse chimed in. “Otherwise they go feral. Don’t worry; he’ll act more like a normal foal as he gets older.”

Orion nodded and stared at the purple reptile in thought for a few moments before turning to Twilight. “Hey, Twilight, you hatched him, right?”

The filly smiled at the memory. “Oh, yes. That was when I Flared and Nightmare Moon noticed me.”

The colt scratched the back of his neck. “Does that mean you’re his mother?”

“What?!”

“Well, think about it. You hatched him and brought him into the world, and that’s what mothers do.” Orion gave a slight, jocular smile.

Twilight shook her head. “No! Definitely not. I think… I think I’m more like the midwife.”

“So…” the colt turned to the nurses. “Who is his mother then? I mean, how did we end up with a dragon egg in the exam room anyway?”

The nurses turned to one another, nervous, unsure looks in their eyes. They looked at Orion. “Well…”

“Apparently the egg test was only meant for very gifted adults,” Twilight Sparkle interrupted, her chest puffing up quite proudly. “Ponies kept failing at it, and it was only by mistake that I was given it.”

Orion rolled his eyes and motioned for the two nurses to continue. The pink mare smiled and continued.

“Well, I think it’s all right if you know. You’re probably going to find out eventually anyway,” she said, eyeing the little infant dragon. “He’s the son of a dragon king far out to the west. We’re… foalsitting him.”

“Wow, so he’s like a prince?” Twilight said, regarding Spike with renewed fascination.

“Wait, what do you mean ‘foalsitting’?” Orion asked, frowning curiously. “Can’t he be taken care of by his own kind?”

“He… his father wanted him to be raised in Equestria for a time before he went back home,” the other nurse said, before quickly adding, “To foster good relations between our empire and his kingdom.”

“Hmm… well, okay… I guess that makes sense.” The colt did not sound very convinced.

Twilight shook her head and sighed, quite tired of her friend’s constant scepticism. “It does to me. Think about it, dragons live for… forever – I think – and what are a few years out of forever? Plus, he’ll be able to get a good Equestrian Canterlot education. I mean, that’s probably better than anything he’d get in Westerland.”

Orion didn’t reply. Instead he bent down to look at the little reptile at eye level. Spike scampered up to him and locked the larger boy in a piercing, unflinching stare. They watched one another in curious patience, waiting for the other to do something. The baby dragon took the initiative. Quite deliberately, he swayed his head back and butted it against Orion’s muzzle.

“Ow!” he said, springing up and rubbing his nose, glaring down at Spike, who was looking quite pleased with himself. “That little ba… that little rascal has a really hard head.”

Once again, the nurses offered some supplementary commentary: “Dragons are very, very tough creatures. They can even bathe in lava.”

“Wouldn’t want to get in a fight with one then, I guess,” he mumbled, still looking crossly at the thing.

Spike then waddled up to Twilight. She almost flinched, afraid he was going to do something similar to what he did to Orion, but quickly relaxed after he began rubbing his head against her leg, cooing softly.

“Awww, how cute!” she cried, scooping him up.

The baby allowed himself to be coddled like this and was soon asleep in Twilight’s gently rocking arms. She shot a smarmy grin at Orion.

“Told you I’m good with babies,” she said, sticking her tongue out playfully.

Orion just clicked his teeth and rolled his eyes.

The pink nurse stood up and walked over to Twilight. “I think he’s had enough excitement for the time being,” she said, gently taking him from Twilight’s arms. “He needs to finish his nap now.”

The filly nodded. “Sure, I–”

A rumbling, growling noise sounded out in the room. Twilight looked down to the culprit, her stomach, and blushed. “Uh… heh, heh.”

“Come on, Twilight,” Orion said, smiling at his friend’s embarrassment. “Let’s get some food.”

She nodded and walked with him towards the door, but stopped and quietly rushed back to the sleeping baby dragon. Craning over him, captivated by a simply adorable snore, she whispered, “Bye, Spike, I’ll see you later.”

If there was one place Twilight could always find, it was the kitchens, and they suffered no difficulties in getting there. All the while, they chatted almost mindlessly about subjects like the meals in the palace (terrific and varied) and how much free reign she had in the kitchens (almost limitless when a big meal wasn’t being prepared). More than once, Orion expressed his jealousy of her twenty-four hour access to such wonderful food, reminiscing about the fickle quality they had at the orphanage.

As the two foals trotted into the kitchen, they were greeted by a voice several decibels louder than was safe for normal, sane conversation.

“What the bloody hell do you call this?!”

Head Chef Ram Sea was in the process of exploding at a young stallion with a light amber coat. The stallion was quite lanky, though somehow Ram Sea seemed to tower over him with sheer force of personality.

“I-I…”

“If you can’t even keep the flipping scrambled eggs from going runny then how do you expect to succeed in my kitchen? We’re not cooking for kindergarteners here, we’re cooking for bloody royalty!”

“I was nervous!” the stallion blurted. “It won’t happen again.”

The chef didn’t accept the apology; instead he huffed and growled in a way that reminded Twilight of an enraged dog. “It better not bloody well happen again! I got a good word about you, and it turns out you can’t even cook the easiest breakfast to make outside of cereal!”

“I-I told you my specialty was desserts!”

“Well, prance off out of my kitchen and practice some other kinds of meals,” he snapped. “I don’t want to see you back until you can give me breakfast, lunch and supper with three courses that I am satisfied with, Carrot!”

“S-sir!”

The panicking cook bolted out the door, leaving Ram Sea to grunt and trot off to the other side of the kitchen. Twilight had never seen Ram Sea like this before. Her ears were flat against her head and she sat there, completely bewildered until a familiar dark blue pegasus mare walked up to her, smiling apologetically.

“I’m so, so sorry you had to hear that,” she said. “Ram Sea’s just in a… worse mood than usual today. Unfortunately, he’s chosen today to micromanage the pâtissier’s team, and they’ve just got a new recruit. Poor guy…”

“Oh, uh, it’s all right,” Twilight said, attempting a completely unconvincing grin to try and disguise her shock at the Head Chef’s language.

“I’ll have to have a little talk with Chef Ram Sea about his behaviour,” Salt Wind said, giving the back of the Gallopfreyan’s head a terrifying glare. Across the room, without even looking, he suddenly, inexplicably shivered. The mare returned her eyes to Twilight with a smile. “So! It’s good to see you again. How are the studies going?”

“They’re going very well,” she declared, quite proudly. “I’m at the top of almost all my classes.”

“Almost?”

She cringed. “Well, I had an… accident in Practical Magic Application.”

“Ooh, do you mind if I ask what it was?” Salt Wind asked.

“I, uh, strained myself a bit too much and sort of… blew up,” Twilight gave a sheepish grin. “Miss Springtime grew a moustache.”

“I guess you’ll have to work on that with the Empress then,” she said, shrugging before making a vague gesture in the air. “So, what can I get you? We’ve got mostly bits that we’re using to prepare dinner but I can grab you something out of the pantry.”

“I’m kinda in the mood for some spaghetti marinara,” Twilight said before giving Orion a questioning look.

He shrugged. “I’ll have a bowl too, I guess.”

Salt Wind nodded. “Okay then, I’ll have it done in a jiffy. Why don’t you two have a seat in the banquet hall? There’s nopony there at the moment.”

The two foals thanked her and set off for the banquet hall. It was as big as a typical banquet hall doubled or possibly trebled in size. Many long tables occupied the room, though currently free of cutlery and plates. Twilight led Orion to a table that sat on a raised platform overlooking the hall. In the middle of this table was a mahogany throne, beautifully carved and clearly indicating the Empress’s place during dinner. Twilight sat next to it, in a space that was now effectively reserved for her. When Orion chose the ornate wooden throne for his seat, Twilight hissed at him.

“What are you doing?” she demanded.

Her friend looked at her as if she was stupid. “What does it look like? I’m sitting down?”

“You can’t sit there!”

“Why not?”

“That’s the Empress’s seat,” Twilight whispered, afraid somepony would hear their argument and get them in trouble. “Nopony but her is allowed to sit there.”

“So? She’s not here now. Nopony’s here,” he retorted.

“Just get off of it! It’s disrespectful!”

Orion snorted. “It’s just a chair. It’s not like I sat down in it while she was in the bathroom during dinner.”

“It doesn’t matter. It’s the Empress’s seat and only she can sit on it. You wouldn’t like it if somepony used your bed.”

“But that’s my bed. This is just a chair. It’s totally different.”

“You’ll get in trouble. Please just sit here,” she indicated the seat opposite her. “Please, Orion.”

She looked up at him with the most pathetic look she could muster, her eyes large and shimmering with moisture, her lips pouted and trembling. He defiantly harrumphed and crossed his forelegs, turning away in the manner of many a stubborn noble. It took him no more than a couple of glances down at his little friend before he broke.

“Fine,” he said, standing up and making the rather long journey around the table, sitting down in front of her and muttering, “I don’t see why you’re so tetchy about it.”

“Well, firstly, the Empress is really old, and you know we should respect our elders. Secondly, she’s done so much for us all for centuries and that means we should respect her more. It’s like Miss Loch always said, respecting a pony means respecting their things.”

“Yeah, I know, but wouldn’t you want to sit in it if you could get away with it?” he asked. “It is the Empress’s seat after all; not many ponies could say they sat in that.”

She frowned and puffed out her cheeks, preparing for another tirade, before she froze and a sly grin slowly appeared on her face. “Weren’t you the one who said it was ‘just a chair’? Why would it be so important for you to sit on it?”

Even in a colt as insular as Orion, she could see the pride die in his eyes, being tripped over his own tongue by a little filly four years his junior. He gave the begrudging, semi-respectful scowl of a justly-beaten friend and childishly stuck out his tongue.

In the quiet of the vast hall, the opening of the door to the kitchen was heard as a loud, echoing bang. Salt Wind came in expertly balancing a couple of bowls of pasta on her back.

“Grub’s up, kids,” she said, reaching behind her and placing the dishes in front of them. She then theatrically bowed. “Bon appetite.”

Twilight giggled. “Thank you, Salt Wind.”

“My pleasure, Twilight. Now, I’ve got to go and see if I can get Ram Sea to calm down. He’s started to throw things at the intern.”

The two began to eat after she left. The older foal made sounds of audible pleasure as he chewed his food, gaining questioning looks from the filly. He slurped down a string of spaghetti and sighed quite loudly before finally noticing Twilight looking at him as if he was mad. He blushed in embarrassment.

“Sorry, Twilight,” he said with a suitably abashed, nervous grin. “It’s just that I’ve never tasted food that good. I can’t believe you get served like this every night.”

Twilight smiled. “Yeah, well, it is the palace, after all. I suppose only the best of the best get picked to come and work here. I guess I’ve grown used to the food, though.”

“It sure beats the food at the home,” he nodded in agreement. “I bet you’re pretty much being treated like a princess all the time here.”

“Um…” Twilight looked up in thought, recalling her time at the palace. She knew most of the servants treated her as if she was an extension of Nightmare Moon herself; bending over backwards to meet her desires. She didn't want them to do that, of course, but even the smallest of requests was met with frantic overenthusiasm. Those who she was more familiar with, like Salt Wind and Proud Song, treated her more like a normal child, though she had noticed they gave her a great deal of leeway and respect.

Even the foals treated her as something like a princess, though they kept their distance. Twilight thought that, had she been a proper princess, they would probably try to win her favour. But Grace had convinced them to despise her even more than they already did for her being a commoner, so despite whatever respect they gave her, Twilight could sense the simmering hatred underneath their candied words and polite airs.

“Yeah, I guess you could say I am,” she answered. “If you think that being tip-hoofed around all the time is like a princess.”

“Well, I guess it sort of is, I suppose. I mean, don’t ponies tip-hoof around royalty all the time?”

She frowned. “Well, yeah, I mean they seem like they respect me, but I don’t think many of them actually like me! It’s like I’m like some kind of prized ornament, and if they scuff it they’ll get in trouble with the Empress.”

“Must be frustrating.”

“Yeah, it is, a little,” she shrugged. “I try to ignore it and not let them bother me. I mean, I have plenty of ponies who are nice enough to me, like Salt Wind and the Empress.”

“Yeah, but you should really have somepony you can be friends with… besides me, of course.”

“I’m fine though, I don’t need any more friends,” Twilight insisted.

He frowned at her response and opened his mouth for a second. Then his eyes briefly flashed with some kind of inexplicable sadness before he closed it. Twilight was about to ask him what was wrong before he began to speak. “How’s your new school?”

“Oh, um, it’s good. My studies are going well.”

“Aside from Practical Magic Application,” her friend interjected.

“Yes, aside from that,” she sighed, before continuing. “They’re much more advanced than the school we all went to before. Apparently, we should be several grades ahead of other ponies our age. We’ll be taking their equivalent of the GCEs at the end of the elementary school, when we’re thirteen.”

“What? That’s crazy! You’re too young to be doing those kinds of tests,” replied a shocked Orion. “When do you do the SATs, or whatever they use here, anyway?”

“Uh, fifteen, I think,” she answered. Seeing his face, she continued, pride rising in her voice. “Remember that the Academy is supposed to be for gifted students, so they’ll expect us to learn fast and pass all these exams.”

“I guess… though it doesn’t really give you much time to enjoy yourself or take it easy,” he said.

“School isn’t for taking it easy or enjoying yourself – at least, in the way you probably mean it,” she replied, quite tartly. “It’s for studying and learning, and the Academy is just so dedicated to it. I’m going to have so much fun there! I bet you’ll be coming to me for tutoring soon.”

Orion gave a short, slightly unenthused laugh before looking down silently and intently at his bowl. He had finished, eagerly shovelling down his food, but Twilight hadn’t yet. Twilight was getting worried again; she hadn't missed his brief looks of sadness.

“Are you okay, Orion?” she asked, reaching out to him.

He looked up and immediately snapped out of his introspection, throwing up a shield of impassiveness. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he stressed. “Have you made any new friends at school?”

Twilight was taken aback by the sudden change of subject. “Uh… no, not yet. I mean it’s only just started and I’ve been busy trying to get the feel of the place.”

“Uhuh…” Orion sighed. “Just promise me you’ll make an effort finding some friends.”
She was about to tell him why exactly that would be hard for her to do before shaking the idea away. There wasn’t any point in troubling her friend. It seemed as though Orion already had some pretty heavy stuff on his mind. Instead she settled on saying, “I promise.”

They continued their dinner in thoughtful silence. Twilight wondered why everyone was so intent on her finding new friends. How many friends did a pony need? Besides, shouldn’t you only try and be friends with somepony that wants to be friends with you? These nights, it seemed like most ponies her age were either afraid of her or already disliked her. The only ones who didn’t were back at the orphanage.

When she finally finished, they took their dishes into the kitchen to find Salt Wind and Ram Sea in a full-blown fight. No physical blows were delivered, but the insults shouted across the kitchen were so scathing that Twilight was surprised they didn’t cause bodily harm. The two foals decided to leave their dirty plates on the counter and beat a hasty retreat from the kitchen.

“Well, that was… something,” she said as they walked along. Orion nodded in agreement. “So, what do you want to do now?”

The white-coated colt thought for a few moments before asking, “Is there a playground nearby?”

“Uh… yeah, there is. Why?”

He shrugged. “I just thought it would be nice for us to go and hang out down there. Maybe I could push you on the swings.”

She smiled at the thought. “Okay then. Follow me.”

The playground was easy to find. It was in the public part of the gardens, built for the children of the numerous officials that visited and worked in the palace, as well as any tourists that might be passing through. As with everything in the palace, it was made to impress. The jungle gym was a massive construction, with everything imaginable attached to its gargantuan frame. There were swings and slides and roundabouts galore, as well as all other manner of recreational equipment. Twilight considered herself a mature filly, but when she saw all this, her inner eight-year-old burst out. She rushed over to the playground to begin a long session of active fun. She was surprised when Orion followed in her revelry. I guess even colts that old want to cut loose sometimes, she figured.

Luckily for the both of them, the playground was empty at this time in the afternoon. With just reason, it seemed, as the clouds were getting larger and darker overhead. Still, they decided to go ahead and play, regardless of the worsening weather.

Twilight took the lead, choosing activities and jumping from contraption to contraption. Orion half supervised and half played, seemingly content in just enjoying his friend’s own enjoyment. The little purple filly allowed herself one of the rare moments to relax and throw herself into the joys of a child’s playtime. Here with Orion in the empty playground her worries seemed to melt away. There was no school, no fear for the lack of friends or the need to impress her teacher. Any loneliness there was at the Academy now seemed trivial in the comfort of her friend’s company.

The two ended their games with Twilight resting on the swings, being pushed gently by Orion. It was now getting late; the Bright Moon beginning to lower itself below the horizon to make way for its duller face. The change to the evening were always subtle and passed by unnoticed the two foals until the clocks struck seven o’clock and the bells chimed out the late hour.

Orion stopped pushing and looked forlornly to the face of the nearest clock. Twilight turned her head behind her to see him step away from the swings.

“Do you have to go now?” she asked him.

He nodded. “Wait here, I’ve got something I wanted to give you. I left it with some guards back at the gatehouse.”

She waited dutifully on the swing for the time it took for Orion to go to the gatehouse and back. Idly she swung back and forth, wondering what it was Orion had brought her. When the white colt came back at last carrying a saddlebag, Twilight hopped off the swing and trotted towards him. He sat down and zipped open his rucksack, carefully retrieving the object within as if it was some priceless treasure.

Twilight was surprised to find an odd little doll staring her in the face with mismatched button eyes. It was a simple grey thing with locks of hair like the tassels on the end of a rug. The only real elaborate part to the doll was a pair of blue polka-dot pants stitched onto the legs.

“It’s for you,” Orion explained. “I made it as a present for you.”

“It’s really good,” she said, gratefully taking the doll from Orion’s hooves. She cradled it for a moment before looking back up to the colt with a bemused expression. “Since when do you know how to sew?”

“Oh, uh, Miss Loch taught me it so I could fix my own clothing. She said it was a useful skill to know.” He grinned in recollection. “It took me too many tries before I finally got it right. Sorry it’s not much good.”

“No, no! It’s perfect!” Twilight cried, hugging the doll with as much sincerity as she could show. “I think I’ll call her Miss Smartypants.”

“Her? I kinda envisioned a colt when I made it.”

Twilight giggled. “Shouldn’t you have saved it for my birthday, anyway? Now you have to get me something extra special to beat this!” she teased.

“Your birthday… yeah,” Orion murmured.

His face once again took on the melancholy, thoughtful look that had been popping up all day. Twilight frowned with concern for her friend. What was on his mind that was so bad? He became down when she mentioned anything about the future.

Her heart began to race as a terrible thought began to wriggle its way to the front of her mind. “O-Orion?”

His focus returned to her. “Hmm?”

“Is everything all right?” she asked, stepping towards him and placing a hoof on his arm. “You’ve been kind of distracted for a while and you keep on getting down like you keep thinking about something sad. Just because I’m eight doesn’t mean I’m stupid, Orion. I’ve noticed it.”

The lavender unicorn’s trepidation stretched the silence before his reply. Those thoughtful eyes kept looking away and back to her, until he closed them and gave a heavy sigh.

“I’m… I’m going away, Twilight,” he said at last. “For a long time.”

Twilight swallowed and asked in a small voice, “How long?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know. It’s not a vacation or anything, it’s… there’s a family that’s adopted me.”

“A-adopted?” she was shocked. The older foals were hardly ever adopted, and most had either left as soon as they reached majority or had grown too attached to the orphanage to want to leave.

“Yeah,” he continued, now with a small tinge of joy growing in his voice as he spoke and a small, sad smile came to his lips. “Miss Loch… she knows them; they’re good ponies. There… they have some foals too, kids my age.” The smile fell at once from his lips and the joy drained immediately from his voice. “But it won’t be the same without you.”

“But where are you going?” Twilight asked. “Can’t you come and visit me like you do now?”

“I… don’t know,” he said, hanging his head pathetically. “They live far away.”

“How far?”

“West, I think. In the borderlands. I don’t think I’ll be able to see y… visit you.”

“But what about letters? Can’t you still write to me?” she asked in desperation.

“I’ll try,” he said, his voice so heavy he was nearly mumbling. “I… I wish you could come with me.”

Twilight blinked and felt moisture run down her cheeks, but paid no heed. “I could… I mean, if I ask the Empress if I could quit and go back to the orph–”

“No!” he snapped suddenly, springing forward and gripping her shoulders. “You can’t give up all of this just for my sake. You’ve got something really good here, Twilight. Please, please don’t throw it away just for me.”

She leaned into him, her head resting against his chest. “It’s not just for your sake. I don’t know what I’d do if you’re gone. I have no one here but you.”

“No, Twilight,” he said softly, lifting up her head to look her in the eye. He gave her a small smile. “Like you said, you have all the ponies here, like Salt Wind and Nightmare Moon.”

“B-but you’re my only real friend,” she sniffled, burying her face in his fur again. “I… I love you.”

She felt Orion envelop her in a tighter hug, resting his chin on her shoulder. “I love you too,” he said, his voice shaking. “You’ve always been like… no, you are a little sister to me.”

Twilight didn’t know how long they stayed like that, but she hoped it had been hours. Anything to stay with her friend for just a little bit longer. At last the two separated, with Orion glancing at the clock.

“I have to go now,” he said. “I’m leaving tomorrow, and I have to pack.”

She swallowed painfully and nodded. “T-take care, Orion, and thanks for everything. Don’t forget to write.”

“I won’t,” he promised, giving her one last smile. “Goodbye, Twilight.”

With those final words, he turned and trotted into the palace, and she sat alone in the dark, empty playground as thunder rumbled off in the distance.

==========

The storm was in full swing now. Rain beat steadily against the window, driven by a fierce wind. Nightmare Moon sighed contentedly. The sound of the rain was quite soothing, wrapped up as she was in her warm silk gown. Her regalia lay on the dresser, the silver shoes exchanged  for soft, fluffy socks. Inside her room, with the fire crackling and tinting the room with a red glow, she was as cosy as she could be.

The pegasi are really bringing Autumn in hard this year, she thought. Lighting flashed, followed soon by the low growl of thunder.

She turned the page of her book. It was a tale of sweet romance and thrilling drama, with a young heroine locked in a dilemma of taboo love with her family’s enemy. Nightmare Moon hadn’t read it in decades, having commissioned the work from a great poet some centuries ago. It was one-of-a-kind, and often she thought she should have it published, but there was a secret joy in having a story solely for her – she, who had surprisingly few personal, private treasures just for her own enjoyment.

The Empress shifted on her cushion by the fire and lifted a nearby glass of wine to her lips. It wasn’t the vintage so often favoured by her chancellor, but one far rarer, silkier, and much older. Fruity and nutty and oh so delicious, Nightmare Moon licked her lips after her sip. She had decided to pamper herself this evening, after a long week of negotiations with the griffons.

It seemed that they had the idea that her nation had continually insulted theirs and ignored their claim to the Western Wilds. The Empress had no idea they had previously tried to push a claim, though now that she thought about it, she found she didn’t care one bit if they did. The memory of the bloody war with the griffons a century ago was still fresh in her mind; she was determined to give not one inch of land to those feathered savages.

That didn’t change the facts on the ground, however. Despite Equestria’s control over the desirable northern territories bordering the griffon kingdoms, griffons still settled in droves in the Wilds, establishing their own mining towns in the peaks that only a pegasus could reach – and it was a rare pegasus who cared to dig in the earth for a living. Worse still, the griffons had established a military outpost on the coast just outside Equestrian control, determined to prevent any further westward expansion of her empire.

No progress had been made in the talks. The situation was infuriatingly delicate and, Nightmare was afraid, could easily devolve into war. In the old days, she would have simply led the charge and vanquished her foes with a power that could crush mountains. But then the Stalliongrad Accord had been signed. The brainchild of Konnica’s Koshchey the Deathless, it drew in many nations to pledge immediate war and destruction on Equestria should Nightmare Moon personally do battle against mortals. So now she had to be rely upon the strength of her people rather than herself to deter potential enemies.

But now is no time for these thoughts, she reminded herself. All she had to focus on was the trials and times of Everdew and her love Sparrowhawk. The fire now was hot on her covered skin, uncomfortably so, and Nightmare Moon cast a quick spell of cooling to dull the hearth. She sighed as the temperature returned to a more acceptable level and further reclined on her cushion as thunder rolled against the windowpane.

The sound of a muffled shriek tore through the calm atmosphere of her room and her peace of mind. The alicorn bolted upright, her ears already twitching toward the source of the noise. A frigid shock of dread rolled down her spine as she realised that it had come from Twilight’s room. Nightmare Moon shot to her hooves, her door slamming open as she half-ran, half-flew toward the disturbance.  In her cotton socks and desperation, the alicorn slipped and skidded on the smooth wooden floorboards outside her quarters. Each stroke of her wings seemed to take long seconds, and the width of the hallway stretched as if taunting her to arrive too late.

She hurled open her student’s door and plunged through, her horn already burning with a dozen powerful spells and curses. Who dares harm my child? she thought, rage barely smothering terror for the safety of her student. Any intruder she found would wish the Empress had killed him, if anything had happened to Twilight.

The room was cold and dark, lit only by the occasional flashes of lighting from the storm raging outside. The doors to the balcony hung wide open, flailing and banging in the wind. The floor beneath them was soaked with rainwater and the thunder that had been a faint, distant growl in her room roared its full fury here.

For a single, dreadful moment, the room was silent save for the storm’s clamour. Nightmare Moon’s heart raced in her throat as her eyes fell on the bed. The blankets were a rumpled mess, but unmistakeably tangled around an unmoving lump in the middle.

Relief came as another loud crash of thunder summoned a whimper from the bed. Twilight Sparkle curled up tighter in her covers, shivering and sobbing. That fear extinguished, the Empress spun toward the rest of the room. Is anypony else in here? The idea of such audacity brought forth her temper anew, and with a glare as steely as the executioner’s blade, she scanned the room for any intruders. Nothing. Satisfied she and Twilight were alone, the Empress went at once to the filly, closing the doors with a thought as she did. Gently, she touched the unicorn and called to her.

“Twilight? Don’t be afraid,” she said, her tone soft and soothing. “What’s wrong?”

Slowly, her student emerged from the ball she had wrapped herself in and looked blearily up at her teacher. The filly was a mess: her hair ragged, her eyes red from crying, the fur on her cheek matted and stained with tears.

“I… I…” she choked and then turned her head in shame. “It was just a… a bad dream. Sorry for disturbing you.”

The Empress let out a slow breath, her limbs nearly shaking in reaction to her fear. “Nonsense,” the she declared, picking Twilight up with her magic. “Come to my room, Twilight. It’s much warmer there.”

Her little apprentice squeaked her protests, but they were ignored by the mare. She took the filly to her room and closed the doors behind them before placing her on the bed.

“Wait here while I get you a glass of water,” she commanded in the same gentle, careful tone. The filly just sat in silence as the Empress took her wineglass and trotted to the bathroom. The alicorn stared in her mirror for a while, looking at her own tired reflection, asking it silently, pleadingly for advice. For all her years, she had no experience with anything like this. Was she right in bringing the foal to her room? Should she just send her back to bed as soon as possible? After all, it was just a dream. No, she thought. Dreams were important; she of all ponies should know this. Dreams were her realm, and as such, any problems with them should fall under her care. Gentle. Be as gentle as the moonlight. She smiled with growing confidence at her reflection. After all, am I not the moon herself? 

She brought the glass to her lips and threw her head back, downing the wine. There was a brief pang of regret at gulping the venerable spirit so quickly, but that was a lamentation quickly snuffed out. She had greater concerns for the moment. Rinsing it out, she filled it with water and went back to Twilight.

Her student was the picture of confusion: already tired and frightened, she seemed tiny in the overly grand and forbidden room of the immortal Empress of Equestria, being nursed by the self-same mare. An environment and situation that was perhaps almost unimaginable to a filly like Twilight, who – it was apparent to Nightmare Moon – looked on the alicorn as an idol, out of reach despite their physical closeness.

She went back to the shaken child and laid down on the bed next to her. The filly took the glass and gratefully gulped it down. After she had finished, Nightmare Moon took it from her and put it to the side. Twilight kept her head low, sitting in a drooping, sullen pose that radiated humiliation. She looked as though she would go back to curling up in a ball surrounded by a protective cocoon of bedding any second.

“There’s no need to be upset anymore, I am here for you,” the Empress said after a while. “Now tell me; what’s the matter?”

“I was having a bad dream,” Twilight repeated in a voice of disbelief. She looked about ready to stop, but after looking back at Nightmare Moon, she gave a sigh and pushed on, trying to shake off the shame that was hinted in her tone. “Then... I guess the storm woke me up. I heard the balcony doors bang open… I think I forgot to lock them. I… I’ve never been scared of thunder before, but it was all just so sudden...”

Nightmare Moon gave her a motherly nuzzle, much to the little filly’s surprise. “You’re all right now, little one. Do you want to talk about it?”

Twilight bent her head, biting her lip in stubborn, embarrassed reluctance, still obviously upset. The Empress knew her student prided herself on her maturity, and she realized after a moment that the filly was ashamed to have been so affected by ‘just’ a dream. With an embrace, a whisper and a hopeful smile from her mentor, the filly eventually acceded in Nightmare’s suggestion and closed her eyes, trying to remember her dream. In her recollection, tears spilled anew and she blinked them back to no avail.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, Twilight began barely above a whisper. “I was walking in the palace, and everyone was there; Salt Wind, Proud Song, Miss Loch and everypony from the orphanage, even Mister Inquisitor and Sir Silverstar. They were all ignoring me, and when I tried to talk to them, they just walked away and disappeared and…” Twilight blinked again, new tears slipping down her cheeks. “I tried looking for you, but you were gone and Orion was there and then he just turned away and left and I… I was all alone. The whole world was empty.”

She finished the room was silent save for the crackle of the fire. Nightmare Moon digested this, thinking of her experiences exploring the dreams of her subjects. Though they were often little more than garbled chains of events and meaningless imagery, they sometimes reflected the dreamer’s inmost thoughts and fears. Even without seeing Twilight’s dream in person, the source of the nightmare seemed clear enough from the filly’s description.

“Twilight?” she began, delicately, as if she was stepping on ice. “Are you feeling… lonely?”

“I… I don’t know,” the filly admitted. “I mean, it’s silly, everypony treats me so well here and–”

A black hoof went to Twilight’s lips, silencing her. “No, it is not silly. Not at all. A pony can be surrounded by others and still, in their heart, feel alone. What do you think you are missing, child?”

At this, Twilight muffled a sob and tried to shake away her tears, but it was like pushing away an ocean. “Orion…” she choked.

The Empress frowned questioningly. “That colt from the orphanage?”  Twilight nodded. Nightmare Moon stared. Surely this girl was too young to be having boy troubles? Then again, love did come differently to all.

“He… he’s gone,” the little lavender unicorn went on, squeezing the words out between sobs. “I don’t think I’ll see him again! He was my only real friend… He called me his sister…”

“Oh...” It started to dawn on the alicorn what this was about, but she allowed her student to continue.

“All my life I’ve been fine on my own,” she went on, speaking as though the realisation was just coming to her. “Ponies like Miss Loch have helped me and cared for me, but I’ve never really been that close to them. I haven’t really had a friend or a family. But then Orion came and, even though it’s been less than a year since I met him, I feel like I’ve known him all my life. I think… I think I didn’t realize that he’s been more like a brother than anything else. And now he’s gone… I’ve lost the only family–”

Twilight broke down into a wailing mess, and Nightmare reacted instinctively, pulling the filly to her bosom. She stroked her mane and whispered soothing nonsense to her young ward. Inside her own head, Nightmare Moon fought resurgent emotions and memories for composure. Twilight’s words had awakened old regrets and longings in her that she often tried to keep supressed. Desires for a family; her own long gone, either dead or forever separated. Now more than ever, in this young child’s despair and loneliness, she felt a kinship with her student. She wanted to hold the filly for as long as possible and cry with her and bond through their shared desires. For Twilight’s sake, she kept a lid on those urges and mentally vowed to remain the filly’s rock; calm, comforting and collected.

“Twilight, listen to me,” she said, after Twilight had calmed down and they broke off the embrace. Her voice was gentle but firm and she lowered her head to look the filly in the eye. “You are not alone, not anymore. Your friend may be gone, but that does not mean you have no family. The palace has become your home, and I think that we at the palace can become your family. Why, I have seen the way Proud Song acts as if you were his little sister when you are left in his care, and it seems to me that you spend enough time with that… Salt Wind mare for her to be like an aunt or big sister to you.”

Slowly, the corners of Twilight’s mouth rose by the smallest of a fraction in a tired smile. “I… I guess I can look at it like that. Sir Silverstar likes to tell me stories like an old grandpa would.”

Nightmare nodded. “We are all here for you, my faithful student.” She brushed the tears from the filly’s eyes and said in a firm voice, “I promise you: you will never be alone again.”

A thoughtful silence settled across the room in the wake of her proclamation. Twilight’s sad, tired smile gradually grew, and she eventually leaned into Nightmare Moon’s neck. “Thank you, Empress. Thank you so much for… for everything. Thank you for taking me in and letting me be your student. Thank you for caring for me.”

The Empress smiled softly. “Don’t mention it, Twilight. It has been a pleasure to have you here for these past months. You are a special filly; you will achieve great things, I am sure of it.”

A new film of moisture came to Twilight’s eyes, but this time Nightmare recognised them as tears of joy. The filly gratefully nuzzled into the mare and sighed in contentment. “Why don’t you get comfy while I read us a story?” the mare asked.

Nightmare Moon turned to her one-of-a-kind book, which had landed next to the fireplace when she bolted for Twilight’s room, and brought it over to them with her magic. Meanwhile, Twilight had manoeuvred herself under the duvet and waited, exhausted but excited, for her mentor to begin. Opening the book to the first page, the Empress cleared her throat and whisked them away to a new world of love, betrayal and adventure.

When Nightmare Moon had read through several chapters, she decided to stop. She had thought a bedtime story would lull the little filly back into a gentle slumber, but Twilight was still wide awake, captivated by the tale in spite of her yawns. Thankfully, her distress seemed to have passed.

“It is getting late, so I think I will end it there,” the Empress said, setting the book on the bedside table. When the Twilight’s face fell, Nightmare offered a conciliatory smile. “I can read it to you again tomorrow evening, if you want. But now, a little filly such as yourself needs a good night’s sleep. So close your eyes and go to sleep.”

The filly looked up questioningly at her mentor, surprised at her command. “But, Empress, this is your bed. I can’t sleep here.”

“You can if I allow it. Your room is damp and cold, and besides, I imagine you are already quite comfortable where you are.”

“Th-thank you, Empress!” Twilight smiled and snuggled down into a cosier position. She then turned back to Nightmare Moon. “Oh… Empress?”

“Yes?”

She smiled and said, rather shyly. “I like your socks. They look… comfy.”

The Empress gave a small laugh of surprise at the filly’s remark and leaned down to nuzzle her. “Thank you, little one.”

The unicorn closed her eyes and relaxed with drowsy determination. Nightmare Moon was content to leave her student to nod off, but then a new thought struck her. Something that she had always wanted to do, but never had the chance; a desire she hadn’t had since her time with Winter Storm.

“Twilight?”

“Mmm?”

“Would you… like me to sing you a lullaby to help you sleep?” she asked tentatively.

“’Kay,” Twilight mumbled dreamily.

Nightmare Moon smiled and, closing her eyes, drew herself up and raised her muzzle to the starry ceiling. She looked through her mind’s eye at ancient memories of a blue mare with a silken mane of liquid silver and a voice to match. Of times of innocence and comfort and love, all brought back by the angelic tones the alicorn did her best to emulate. As she finished composing herself, she opened her mouth to sing:

“Sleep now, child, beneath the moon,
Sleep here, beside my hearth.
Wander to peaceful lands of dream,
And touch the face of the stars.

“Cast thy soul to the heavens,
Cast thy cares to the sea.
If the dark dream seems endless,
Just remember me,
Just remember me.

“Sleep now, favoured child of night,
Sleep and quietly dream.
Forget crumbled hopes, etched with tears,
Rise beyond these earthly cares.

“Sleep until the sun rises,
When daybreak beckons thee.
Greet the new day before you,
And remember me,
And remember me.”

As the last note of the old family lullaby faded, Nightmare looked down to find Twilight sleeping soundly. She smiled in satisfaction. I haven’t sung that since I taught it to Winter Storm, she thought. A new weariness washed over her, and the Empress decided that she, too, should sleep. Shedding her robe, she settled down on the bed, lying her head next to Twilight’s, and followed her student into the realm of dreams.