Where Loyalties Lie: Ghosts of the Past

by LoyalLiar

V - Family Ties

        The nights in the scorching wasteland of Suida were always devoid of dreams.  Khagan was not foolish enough to allow Luna's influence on his prisoner.  Without such pleasantries, day after day of torture bled together into a single mass.  Only the present stood out as unique.  That night found the Commander staring blankly at a shallow wooden bowl.  He was confused.  The months of unending agony had blunted the edges of a mind once known for the sharpness of a skysteel blade.  He knew something was wrong, though it took him far too long to realize what.

        For the first few weeks of his imprisonment, they had fed him rotten meat.  The tragedies of war had given him an iron stomach, but it quickly rusted.  He'd given up eating on his own, and Khagan's servants had taken to feeding him like a griffon chick.  He loathed the jailer, who had lost a tusk to what looked like a clean sword-cut.  One-Tusk was the name the blunted mind had given him, too tired to acknowledge his bristly head or his beady eyes.  One-Tusk was the one who usually fed the stallion, even when he tried to starve himself.  It started by shoving the one remaining tusk into whatever wound on his body was open.  When the pain sent clouds to the edges of his vision and he could no longer hold his teeth clenched shut, One-Tusk would thrust the shredded 'food' into him.  He never retained enough consciousness to remember the boar's Arcana; he only knew the sensation of awakening with rotten meat (and sometimes worse things as well) rolling in his gut.

        Yet the bowl promised something different.  It held a plant, freshly plucked from the ground.  He could still see the dirt on the stem.  A dozen petals, wrapped softly around a tiny center.  All danced in beautiful gold.

        A Gilded Lotus.  

        The Commander actually found the strength to stretch a smile over his crusted, scruffy face.  That was Khagan's final insult.  The admission that he would be allowed to die.  It took all his energy to move the distance, pulling himself with both forehooves as if he was climbing a ladder.  His body was thin, and in places his coat was falling out.  The scar on his right flank burned constantly, rather than the old spikes that had once plagued him in battle, and nowhere else.  They'd healed his other limbs, only to break them again and again, whenever the whim came up.  Yet there was one blessing that they never returned.  His wings still hung cracked and twisted; their once-proud arches pointing backwards to the rest of his body.  

        When he lay in his cell at night, after the boars had lost their interest in him, he cried for the worst nightmare of all: that someday, even if he ever did find his freedom, the sky would well be lost to him forever.  He'd cried from the pain before, but that thought was the only one that moved him to cry out of sorrow.

        He could still feel the streaks where the salt of his tears had matted his coat, even as the dragging of his ribs brought pain that most others would find unbearable.  A noise escaped his dry lips and his parched throat.  He coughed up drops of blood in place of a laugh, and then his lips were on the flower.  

        Then came the laughter, and the taste of rotten air.  The cell door swung open, though the Commander lacked the willpower to even twist his head and look toward his 'guest'.

        "How does it taste, pony?"  The voice faded too quickly from the world, but not before it reached the Commander's mind.  When the very memory of the boar's words began to rot out of his thoughts, there was no willpower left to stop them.  "Did you truly believe we were done so soon?"

        "Plea..."

        "Please?  Do I hear you begging?  I knew you were ready to die, but to hear you put the effort into saying it–I have not been so happy in many days, pony.  Many days.  Here, let me help you."

        Khagan, the titanic boar warchief, forced himself into the room.  His barbed and serrated tusks were placed against the Commander's side.  A brown aura engulfed them, though it seemed disjoint, as if viewed through dirty glass.  Soon, the Commander could only remember a spell being cast, and then that thought too rotted away into oblivion.  He only knew that he had been healed enough to speak, as his throat and his lungs stopped their constant searing agony for the first time in a month.

        What Khagan had not counted on was the resolve that the healing would grant the stallion.  The Commander rose shakily to his hooves, as a scowl worked its way onto his face.  His forelegs slipped, and he fell to his chin with a painful crack, but that did not stop him.  The second try came far closer.  When he was nearly upright, Khagan swept a tusk to the side.  It cut into the Commander's left foreleg, exposing bone and slicing through muscle and sinew.  Newly remade tongue and throat gasped and hissed, but they did not scream.

        "Do not try and look me in the eye.  I reserve that honor for my warriors, and my chiefs.  Those with the courage to face their foes eye to eye.  For all the skill I hear of your stories, you are the lowest of worms.  Return to the dirt.  I will destroy you again tomorrow."

        Khagan turned away with a genuine smile.  Had the Commander's stomach borne any strength at all, he might have vomited in disgust.  Instead, he clutched his leg, shut his eyes, and welcomed the darkness on the edges of his eyes as he heard the door to his cell slam shut.

        "Tsk, tsk.  Oh come now, Commander, are you truly going to give up this easily?"

        "D...Discord?"

        "Oh, he fixed your throat?  It's so nice to hear that gravelly voice again.  It always astounds me that you used to be renowned for your charisma; of course, it isn't really fair to use myself as a comparison."

        "Why didn't you answer me?  All these years..."

        "Years?  Oh, if only you knew.  It's been just a little more than six months, Commander.  And thanks to your daughter and her friends, I don't have my usual unlimited magic.  The long distance surcharges are enormous!"

        The Commander gritted his teeth, and forced his eyes open.  "So... why bother?"

        "You say that as if you won't want me around.  That really hurts, you know?  Here I am, rooting for you from all this distance away, and you don't even have the courtesy to say 'thanks'?"

        The little figure that the Commander had carved into the wall by hoof stepped out of the stonework.  It was strange to see a carving walk away from the material it had been carved into, as if what remained was composed only of shadows, lacking the stone that served as their canvas.  The guardspony reached out a leg toward it, even as his blood began to clot and dry against his dark, blue-gray coat.  Khagan's healing enchantment served as the worst curse of his pathetic existence.  Not only did it sap his energy, but it kept him from dying in the face both of the boar's tortures and his own desperate attempts to move on.

        "Can you..."  The Commander broke his words off to groan as his foreleg's muscles struggled to stitch themselves back together over the jagged edge of his broken bone.  "...end this curse?"

        "Not as I am... but then, the Commander who was brave enough to ask me for advice, and trade away his life's secrets in return, wouldn't have given up so easily."

        At the taunt, the Commander glared silently at the illusory, two-inch high figment pacing around him on the floor.  "You don't understand pain, Discord."

        "I suppose you're right.  I can't see why I'd ever want to feel it.  But then, I'm not the legendary guardian of Equestria, who flies on the night in black armor and slays dragons with his bare hooves."

        "Stupid..." the stallion muttered, before his tongue built up the slightest bit of momentum out of spite.  "If you can't kill me, go away."

        "Ah, but there I something I can offer you.  Something you haven't had in months, Commander.  I can offer you hope."

        There followed a long silence, and then a single word left dry and cracked lips.  "Why?"

        "Why help you, you mean?  Well, to be brutally more honest than I normally approve of, it's because I think the next few months are going to be a lot more fun if you're there.  But I do want something from you in return."

        Humoring the spirit, the Commander moaned out a single word.  "What?"

        "Well, two things really.  I want you to admit that I'm reformed, and I'd like you to use your clout with Celestia to get me out of this infernal stone prison again."

        After a moment's silent contemplation, the Commander snapped with a snarl, and slammed his foreleg down on the figment of the Draconequus.  His bloodshot, crusted eyes glared with a deep fire that ignored the pain of his jagged bone jutting upward and slicing through the fresh wound once again.  He found no target, as the illusion passed through his limb entirely, but the sheer spite of the motion served perfectly to convey his broken, animalistic state.

        "Why?  Why taunt me now?"

        "Taunt you?  If anything, I'm encouraging you.  You can get out of this, 'Commander', and I'm interested in helping in what little way I can.  I'm almost out of magic for now, so I'll just say this: if you remember the Castle of Midnight, you know what to expect.  I hope that helps, Commander.  Now, I'll let you get back to wallowing in agony, and giving up on everything you've ever stood for.  I'm sure Celestia will be fine without you, after all."

        The Commander watched the little figure wander over to the wall of the cell, and once more become a mundane carving.  For what seemed the longest time, he simply stared, confused.  Discord had in the past shared information and secrets, but never of his own free will.  Some might have imagined the spirit to be simply exercising a helpful nature.  The mind of a warrior, however, could not accept such an explanation.

        In the end, why was a question for a later day.  Discord's last word had set a fire in the stallion's blood.  Raw Empatha gathered at the edges of his broken, crippled wings.  Yet, for the first time since his imprisonment, the Commander did not feel sorry for himself.  Instead, a far more active emotion dominated his thoughts.  The stallion had only one question to answer.  He looked down at the spur of jagged bone jutting out of his leg, reflecting on how it rather resembled the edge of a knife.  

        Though the motion was not without hesitation, his mouth ultimately found its way down to the skeletal protrusion.  The Commander closed his eyes in focus, bit down, and yanked.

        Unconsciousness took its sweet time arriving to rescue him.

        There was no delay between the sound of the door clicking shut and Luna's brutal and irate scolding.  "While we welcome your advice on our sister's recommendation, Marathon, we will not let you presume to lie to Krenn on our behalf!"  The portraits on the wall and the frosted window seemed to shake at the sound of her voice, subdued though it was from her famous 'royal' tone.

        Marathon recoiled in the small common room of the four-bed suite that had been granted to the Canterlot ponies.  "Princess, with all due respect–"  Her pleasant and subtle Canterlot accent did very little against the momentum of Luna's displeasure.

        "Respect is what you clearly do not have for Krenn.  Perhaps you have had conflict with dragons in the past, but he has been our- my friend for eight-hundred of your lifetimes!"  There followed a short lull in Luna's controlled anger, though the young diplomat knew better than to interrupt.  "If his life is in danger from Masquerade, he has a right to know.  I would not see my fate forced onto him, nor to anyone else.  Your interruption was both unwanted and out of place.  We shall have to hope he forgives us for your attitude when we inform him of the truth."

        When Luna's rant was finally done, the subject of her ire found the strength to once more draw breath.  Having recovered her fortitude, Marathon waited until some of the fire in Luna's eyes had died down before speaking up.

        "Princess, while I do understand your concern, we can't afford to let your past friendship with Lord Krenn overrule Equestria's needs."

        It was clearly a struggle for Luna to retain any degree of professionalism.  Rather than disregarding the statement entirely, she sucked in a deep breath, and then asked the foremost question in her mind.  "Why should I not play to our relationship?"

        "That's not what I mean, Princess.  Friendship is fine.  I'm only concerned that you're putting that friendship ahead of Equestria's needs, and unfortunately, we don't have any other good choices for a representative left."  Marathon paused to shuffle over on stumps of legs toward an ornate tea set that had been readied atop the room's coffee table.  "Ever since the war, Lord Krenn has refused to speak to Princess Celestia, or even be in the same room as her.  When he went to sleep a dozen years ago, we appointed an ambassador–my predecessor, in fact–to deal with Krenn's second."

        "And why not rely on that pony, if you find me so unacceptable?  And what of you?"

        Marathon poured three cups of tea with a sigh, gripping the ceramic pot tightly with her wing and trusting the heat resistance of her feathers to endure the mildly uncomfortable warmth.  "Firstly, Princess, I didn't mean to imply that you're a bad choice. I just think you're being naive, in this case.  Relations have been strained between Canterlot and Krennotets for almost forty years now.  Things came to a head in the war, as I'm sure you've heard, and we assumed they would settle down once the fighting stopped."  The young mare pushed one cup of tea toward Luna, and another was offered in the direction of Mirror Image, who stood by the door to the room.  The stallion shook his head without word.  Marathon shrugged, and downed her own small cup almost as if she were taking a shot of hard liquor.  The action reflected curiously on Luna's perceptions of her appointed companion, though it was curiosity on a different matter that drove her next question.

        "You speak of relations between Canterlot and the volcano that bears Krenn's name?"

        "Oh, I suppose I hadn't thought of that.  It's history to everypony else.  Almost seven-hundred years ago, Lord Krenn hollowed out the volcano, and made it his capital. That's where 'Peschera' is; I'm sure you must've heard of it."

        "What happened to Dral... Drathl..."  Luna grumbled something between clenched teeth.  "To his former capital?"

        "If memory serves from history class, he lost it to Emperor Magnus.  In retribution, Krenn ripped Dioda in half straight through the center of the old griffon capital of Angenholt.  Hence, Grivridge."  The mare poured herself another cup of tea.  "I don't think we have time for a history lesson now, Princess.  I only mentioned it in the first place so you'd understand that Equestria and the various dragon lands are still very much at each other's throats.  It's been political incident after political incident.  The predecessor I mentioned earlier?  He insulted one of Lord Krenn's great-great-grandchildren, and the dragons ate him."  Luna cringed, and a certain haunted look seemed to slip momentarily over Marathon's face.  "The first time I went to Krennotets to negotiate, I came back with a very lightweight box."

        Luna sipped her tea gingerly, welcoming the mixed flavors of orange, lemon, and the tea itself.  Only after a short swallow did she address her advisor, and she did so with the remnants of an obviously still smoldering anger.  "You tell a compelling ghost story, Ambassador Marathon, but it fails to answer my questions.  Why should I lie to Krenn about the assassin, and why should I not play to our friendship?  If anything, you've convinced me that I should emphasize our familiarity even more heavily, to avoid the risk of war."

        "That's exactly what you're missing though, Princess.  I'm not against being friends with him, but I don't want that friendship to leave you taking actions that hurt Equestria.  So, as your diplomatic advisor, I have to caution you that informing Lord Krenn about Masquerade's escape will have major consequences.  We would be showing him directly that the Guard is, historically speaking, very weak.  We've had twenty years of virtually unbroken peace, and civilians view the Royal Guard as more of a police force than an army these days.  Our numbers are a third of what they were twenty years ago under Captain Vigil and Commander Coil. And twenty years ago, we nearly lost a war with the dragons. Equestria would be gone if it weren't for Commander Lining."

        Luna's eyes narrowed further still as she took another sip.  "So, Ambassador, what you are proposing is that we not inform Krenn of a dangerous assassin, and risk an enormous diplomatic incident between our nations, on the grounds that informing him of the assassin's escape might make us look militarily weak?"

        "You still aren't understanding me.  This won't be like the Royal Academy Incident; we know to expect Masquerade.  If she tries to sneak in under cover of an illusion, we know to look at her cutie mark.  Either she comes to us and we see through her disguise, or Captain Armor and Captain Ink catch her before she gets here. I know she's dangerous, but I'm worried that you're underestimating Lord Krenn.  You heard his story about how the last war started, and I'd be willing to bet both my forelegs that he's here again to try and get that same land.  I don't know if Tsar Eye will refuse him, but if he isn't given what he wants... I'd prefer that we not offer the dragons anything that might encourage a conflict.  I was very young during the war, but if what I've heard of it is true, Lord Krenn had more to do with it than his story at dinner let on."

        "I see no reason to continue bickering on the subject of a war twenty years gone.  You certainly put a great deal of stock in such a matter, considering it was a war that Equestria won, if my lessons are correct."

        Marathon sighed.  "That is correct, Princess, but I hope you aren't suggesting we disregard the threat of a war from Lord Krenn just because we think we can beat him if something goes wrong.  It isn't as if we won by military means the last time."

        Luna shook her head.  "It matters not how we won, or that we won.  If I tell Krenn the truth, in the spirit of honesty, we will strengthen our friendship and find lesser risk of this war you seem to fear so.  I do not see such a thing as even being likely."

        Marathon quickly realized she was arguing a losing point.  With some degree of dejection, she muttered her final defense.  "I have to hope you're right, Princess.  I just warn you that the way he thinks of you is probably quite different from how he views Equestria.  We lost enough reputation in Krennotets when Discord flew off after Princess Celestia's reform project."

        Luna glared.  "It was most foolish of him to fly to Krenn, after the past the two share.  Still, the draconequus meant no true harm, however spiteful his words."

        "Discord's intentions aren't the issue, though, Princess.  I wish I could say they counted for something, but we don't have the luxury of pretending the dragons are going to forgive him. What matters is what it meant for Equestria.  I don't know what he did to the dragons or the griffons or the elk.  What I do know is that all three races demanded that we give up the Elements of Harmony, and threatened us with war if we didn't."  She rolled her eyes, allowing them to land on her ruler.  "Believe me; I was the one who got to deal with that political nightmare."

        "What?"

        It took only a split second for Marathon's eyes to widen and her teeth to clench.  "Princess, I–"

        "Spare us."  The room grew visibly darker as the night princess' eyes glowed with a pale light.  "You still blame us for what was done to Loose Cannon, just as Crack and Flag and all the others do.  We could not blame them, but you swore an oath that such things were beneath you.  We will not tolerate such lies, nor your taking out your hatred on our reputation with the dragons, or the Tsar.  Think on what you've said, and we will speak to you in the morning, though we still wonder what good such an attitude could do serving for diplomacy."

        It was midnight at Sweet Apple Acres, and the trees swayed in a fell wind.  In an upstairs bedroom, a young mare was startled from sleep by a hammering on the door.  At first, she feared a tree had fallen against the house, until the distinct, three-beat knocking came again.  Grumbling words that bear no repetition, she stumbled from her bed and directly down the stairs, hoping to herself that her elderly grandmother hadn't been stolen from her sleep by the noise.  

        After tripping and stumbling down the last two steps in the dark, the door presented a curious problem.  She fumbled with the lock for almost a minute, grateful that the knocking had stopped, before finally opening their house to the untimely visitor.

        "Y'all know what time it is, right?  Ain't no decent folk comin' around at two in the mornin'."

        The stallion at the door nodded, locking onto her with the one eye he had remaining.  "I'm sorry about the hour, but wouldn't have woken you if it wasn't important.  My name is Dead Reckoning–"

        "Yer' Deadeye?"  Applejack's already displeased expression grew narrower.

        "That's what they call me, yeah.  You must be Rainbow's friend... Apple Cider?"

        "Applejack," the mare corrected, without the slightest hint of welcome in her voice.  "That was a real classy move, runnin' off on Rainbow without answerin' any of her questions.  You've got a lotta nerve pullin' a stunt like that an' then showin' yer face around these parts."

        Reckoning stepped back from the door as the cowpony thrust her head forward.  His legs itched as he forced himself not to drop low to the ground and draw his machete.  "I didn't mean to cause trouble.  Honestly.  I'm not even here about her.  I'm looking for Soldier On."

        Applejack squinted.  "Uh, who?"

        "You might know her by, uh, Stoy-caw-juh."

        "Ain't ringin' any bells."

        Deadeye rolled his eye.  "Look, you can't possibly miss her.  She's like four feet tall, and–"

        "Ya mean Resistant?  Yeah, I..."  Her voice trailed off into a yawn.  "...I know where ya can find 'er.  She sleeps in the cider cellar, 'round the other side o' the barn.  Be careful wakin' her up."

        "I know," Reckoning answered with a grin that momentarily frightened Applejack in a way she couldn't quite explain.  He seemed to miss the reaction altogether as he started to walk away.  "You touch her, she tries to snap your neck."

        Applejack was flabbergasted and clearly intimidated by the insinuation.  "What now?  Look, I'm not toleratin' any violence on this here farm.  You got a beef with her, ya might as  well leave now, or I'll get Big Mac to buck your flank off the property."

        Reckoning donned his best cowpony accent.  "I ain't lookin to start no fights, ma'am."

        The joke went over rather poorly for the genuine farmer.  "Says the pony who wears a sword around town and comes knockin' on doors at an unholy hour of the mornin."

        Reckoning offered her one more of his signature lopsided grins before returning his hooves to their slow walk toward the barn.  "I didn't say I didn't finish fights."  Turning his head back toward the barn, he expected the door of the farmhouse to shut.  Instead, Applejack's voice called out once more, following behind him in the frigid night air.

        "Hold on one cotton'-pickin' minute there.  I want one or two answers from ya.  Straight answers, too.  I'll know if yer lyin' to me."

        Reckoning froze, and took a single deep breath.  He made no effort to turn back toward the mare, or even glance over his shoulder.  His eye remained locked on the barn.  "What do you want to know?"
        
        "What did ya want with Rainbow Dash?  What's some big-time, fancy Honor Guard doin' in Ponyville?"

        "I..."  Deadeye hesitated.  "I thought maybe Rainbow should know.  That I was back."

        "But are ya' back?"

        The question got Reckoning to turn his head, in a very curious manner.  In profile, it was his solid black eye patch that faced Applejack.  "I'm here, aren't I?"

        "So's Rainbow."  Applejack's lithe body paced toward him, and his breathing grew very quiet.  "But that ain't what I meant, and I know ya know it.  Just like I know ya ain't been straight with me.  You didn't come back her for Rainbow's sake, or at least not the way ya just put it.  So I wanna know why.  Spit it out, Deadeye."

        He was intimidated by the mare, but there was something else as well.  His eye squinted shut, trying desperately to ignore her presence as his mind throbbed and his emotions fled his control.  "I..."

        "Yah see somethin' in her, don't ya?"

        The grass ripped up in clumps from beneath his hooves when he turned.  For just a moment, she saw something glimmer in his eye, and it drove her back in shock and fear.  Gone was his callous smile and carefree demeanor.  The trio of parallel scars on his face seemed somehow deeper as they bent to accommodate the peeling back of his lips form his teeth.  "What difference is it to you?"

        When the verbal blow had been struck, Applejack's strength of will returned.  "She's mah friend!  I ain't about ta see you hurt her.  You guardsponies ‘ave already made her life miserable enough, don't ya think?  You stay away from her, ya hear?"  The last words were accompanied by a threatening hoof.

        Reckoning ignored the orange limb, as his fleeting rage gave way to a bitter melancholy.  "Then you don't have anything to fear from me.  She's staying here, and I'm going away.  One way or another, I'm not coming back."

        "So ya do see something in her?"

        The air filled with excruciating silence.  Though there was a chill wind, it made no noise amongst the trees.  The starry sky was still and empty, sucking away all sound and motion into the endless void.  Applejack wondered just how long it would take the stallion to build up his courage and admit the truth.

        "Yeah.  I do."  He frowned slightly, almost mournfully.  "But it wouldn't be fair of me to do anything.  To say anything.  We can't be together."

        Applejack cocked her head.  "What, cause yer a guardspony?  Ya could just quit."

        "No.  I can't."  Reckoning turned back toward the barn.  "Don't tell her what I said."

        'Why' was a question that didn't seem to need asking.  Applejack nodded.  "Least ya seem willin' ta own up to it.  One last question.  Yer' takin Resistant, ain't ya?"

        He nodded silently.

        "Right.  Well, tell 'er she did good work.  We'd love ta have 'er if she could stay on."

        "I'm sure she'd love to, but you have to play the hoof you're dealt.  Goodnight, Applejack."

Rainbow tucked Scootaloo into a bed of clouds, under a thick comforter emblazoned with the elder mare's cutie mark.  "What do you think, squirt?  Pretty sweet place, huh?"

        "It's awesome!" Scootaloo declared in tired awe, struggling to keep her eyes open only for the sake of sucking in the amazing purples and blues of the ornate cloud architecture.  "I've never been in a cloud building!"

        "Well, most of them aren't as awesome as my place.  But we can talk more about that tomorrow morning.  It's time to catch some Z's."  Rainbow slid onto her own bed, finding more than ample space alongside the young filly.  "Night, Scoot."

        "Goodnight."

        Despite the ample space, the little orange filly lived up to her name by scooting across the bedspread until the soft hairs of her back were pressed tightly against Dash's side.  Unable to resist, Rainbow extended a wing and let it lay over her 'little sister' as a second blanket.  In perfect comfort, Scootaloo curled into a tiny ball with a smile on her face.

        "...too bad Mr. Reckoning couldn't stay.  I liked him."

        With her face turned away, Scootaloo couldn't see the confused expression that rose on Rainbow's face.  "Really?"

        "Yeah."  Scootaloo's soft voice was accompanied by the sensation of her side moving up and down under Rainbow's wing as she breathed.  "He was nice, and you..."  Scootaloo paused to yawn, and then smack her lips together.  "...you seemed sad when he left."  Scootaloo stirred once more gently, snuggling more tightly against her pillow.

        It came upon her like magic, tearing aside all else her mind had ever held.  Reckoning was leaving.  She didn't recall the thought bothering her before, but there it was; a reality whose jagged blade sunk tight into her gut and twisted until she was forced to acknowledge it.  Yet for all the pain it brought, she had no reason to cry.  Crying was for when things were too late.

        Her wing folded back against her side, slowly.  For the loss of warmth, Scootaloo only curled up tighter in the blankets.  Rainbow watched her chest rise and fall for a moment, keeping track of the steady ebb and flow until she was sure the filly was asleep.  Only then did she roll lightly out of bed and drop to her hooves, the cloud floor muffling the noise.  A silent trot downstairs and a spreading of her wings,  she was off into a world of white ground and black horizon.  

        Ponyville was tranquil and beautiful at night, frosted with January snow.  Her shadow swam across the rooftops and streets of a city asleep and bundled tightly against the chill.  Though her breath was clearly visible temperature gave her no trouble, compared to the flurry of thoughts fighting within her mind.  Acting on autopilot, her perfect wings carried her toward Sweet Apple Acres.

        Snow-covered, leafless branches stretched on for miles, continuing the perfect grayscale that dominated the world.  In the midst of the night, a warm orange glow caught her eye in a rather familiar building far away from the farmhouse and the barn that housed Applejack's family.  She knew all too well how perfectly the Cutie Mark Crusader's clubhouse could serve for clandestine meetings.  

        Her wings flare moments before her hooves touched the wooden ramp that led up to the door.  The fresh snow chilled her just a bit, but not enough to distract her from her goal.  She pressed her hooves down carefully to avoid any layer of ice hiding on the wooden boards, and made her way up to the clubhouse.  When her hoof met the door to knock, it swung open of its own accord.

        From that motion, the world turned into a sudden blur.  Rainbow was lifted in an incredible grip, as an unstoppable hoof swept all four of her hooves out from under her.  She flipped over as the interior of the clubhouse spun.  The motion ended with a painful collision against the floorboards.  No more than a moment later, an unnaturally frigid steel sword came to rest against her throat.

        "What are you–"

        "Rainbow?"  Dead Reckoning lifted his machete from the mare's throat.  "On, let her up.  She's fine."

        Soldier On grumbled, removing her forelegs from Rainbow's shoulders.  Rainbow didn't have many memories of the titanic mare.  They'd spoken twice, each meeting lasting less than fifteen minutes, and both introductions had been lost over the seven intervening months.  After taking a moment to recover her hoofing and rub her sore back, the pegasus stared up at the wanted traitor.

        Soldier On stood more than four feet tall at the massive, muscular shoulder.  Below that line, it would have taken Rainbow a very discerning eye to some rather private parts of her body to identify her as a mare.  Her dirty hooves but otherwise pristine off-white coat and short cropped tail reminded the stunt flier of Big Macintosh.  Both had huge, broad hooves and legs that didn't seem to grow more slender as they stretched up toward their bodies.  Where Macintosh's stance was somewhat reclined and comfortable in its strength, however, On seemed perpetually strained.  The very way her legs pressed down into her heavy steel shoes suggested that she was ready to bring them to bear for combat at a moment's notice.

        From her towering shoulders, her burly neck rose up to a face that most mares would consider less than attractive.  On's eggshell mane was pulled back tightly across her scalp, pinned around and behind her head into a ponytail.  Behind a black knot of cable, the hairs hung loose and wild, though cropped too short to actually reach down to her back or shoulders.  Sticking out of the mane were one and a half ears.  While her left was impeccable and untarnished, her right rose up to only about half its original height before ending in a surprisingly smooth cut.  Despite their varied shapes, both ears stood taught and attentive in Rainbow's direction.  Below them, green eyes stared down the length of a long, masculine muzzle with a rather potent jaw line.  Everything about the expression painted across her faces warned that she was unhappy for Rainbow's presence.    

        "Hey," Dash muttered to the disapproving glare.  "It's, uh, been a long time?"

        "What do ya' want?" the mare asked. Rainbow had to suppress a chuckle.  She'd been expecting a Stalliongradi accent, given what she knew of the mare's origins.  Instead, Soldier On had greeted her in a tone surprisingly reminiscent of Applejack.

        "Well, I'm here to talk to Deadeye."  Without waiting for any sort of permission, she turned her back on the enormous earth pony and toward her friend.  

        Reckoning's wing hung in a tight sling at his side, beneath which he was in the process of actively stowing his machete.  His head was craned down to deal with the weapon in slow, deliberate motions.  He didn't look her in the eyes as he addressed her.  "We had the whole train ride back to talk, Rainbow.  I'm sorry, but I don't really have time to talk now."  With a rather angry hiss, his blade slid down against his side.  From that pose, he allowed himself to lift his head slowly.  "You should go home.  It's late."

        There was a part of Rainbow that knew the words should not have hurt; after all, they were sound advice.  But it was a tiny part, fragile and weak in the face of overwhelming opinions that swirled up within her from the void.

        "Deadeye, listen to me.  This mission thing–"

        Soldier On interrupted with a single word at first.  "Don't."  She walk around Rainbow, and came to a stop standing where most of her impressive size lay between the two pegasi.  When her words came again, they were bitter and dry, seeming as if they meant to dictate fact rather than swaying opinion.  Gone was the forced 'cowpony' tone, or any accent at all.  Her harsh message had no room for geography or culture.  "You didn't know the Commander, so I don't expect you to understand why we need to do this.  But I know you understand loyalty, so you know that this is something we have to do."

        She glanced at Reckoning.  The determination across his scarred face made his agreement clear as crystal.  It forced Rainbow's mind to contemplate a thousand possibilities, and one after another were shot down by the corners of her rational thought.  Telling him what she wanted directly would not sway him.  Downplaying loyalty would only lose her his respect. On and on her mind raced in the span of a mere second, until she settled on an option that weighed down her conscience like lead.  The lie she needed swam to her tongue, greased on its way by magic and pulled by the strings of a heavy heart.

        "I don't want you to stop.  I want to come with you."

        Reckoning froze as if struck dead by the simple words, and so once more the burden of a response fell upon Soldier On.  She glared, harshly enough that Rainbow had to suppress the urge to backpedal away.  The Stalliongradian mare's words came with a faint growl that seemed to shake the clubhouse.  "This is not your concern, or your danger to face.  You aren't Honor Guard."

        Rainbow felt a fire in her blood at the accusation, in spite of its truth.  "Neither are you.  I wouldn't want to do this with the Honor Guard.  I want to go with you."  Her eyes glanced Reckoning's direction to indicate her meaning.

        Reckoning snapped out of his stupor at the direct glance.  "I don't think you get it, Rainbow.  This isn't just–"

        "Stop, Reckoning."  The simple, controlled words brought instant silence from the old soldier in the young civilian's body.  Soldier On returned her focus to Rainbow Dash.  "This is the second time you've involved yourself in our business, and I've had to deal with it.  Since my last tactic didn't work, I'm going to tell you the truth.  Rainbow Dash, no matter how much you want to be, you aren't expendable.  You embody the Element of Loyalty. Equestria needs you for its protection.  The Commander would have my head if I let you put yourself in the kind of danger that we're going to be dealing with. The last time this issue came up, I failed to convince Princess Celestia that you weren't fit to serve as an Honor Guard.  Thunder Crack made your training a living Tartarus because I wanted you to quit.  When that didn't work, you got sent to Zebrica because I decided it would be the safest place to put you."

        Rainbow rolled her eyes.  "Smooth move on that one."

        Soldier On lunged forward and bared her teeth,  Rainbow could feel the larger mare's hot breath on her muzzle.  The scent of apples dominated the air.  "Seeing as you're standing here, I'd say I was right.  If I'd taken you with me, Roscherk would have killed you in a heartbeat."  For only a fraction of a second, Rainbow thought she saw something flash across Soldier On's face.  Before she could even ponder it, however, the towering pony pulled her face back slightly and continued speaking.  "But I am not making that mistake again.  You have no reason to put your head on the chopping block.  If you try to follow us, I will break a wing and a leg.  I may no longer be a guardspony, but I still protect Equestria."  Soldier On thrust out a foreleg, and the door to the Cutie Mark Crusader's clubhouse was torn completely off its hinges.  It flew out into the snow, bouncing across the ground and coming to rest at the foot of a nearby apple tree.  She did not lower the limb, instead using it as an obvious command.

        Rainbow glanced to the door, and then back at Soldier On.  Her heart was pumping with anger and desperation, and her tongue acted long before her mind had given it consent.  "I do have a reason to go.  And it's not just loyalty to my friend."  Once more, her eyes flickered to Reckoning, before returning to the stalwart face of the off-white mare.  "Steel Lining is my dad."

        Soldier On took her turn to stand slack-jawed and stunned as Reckoning cocked his head in confusion.  "Wait, is Steel Lining...?"

        "Yeah," Rainbow muttered.  "The Commander."

        "Celestia told us at the funeral."  She caught Rainbow's confused glance, and added a further explanation.  "You'd be surprised how easy it is to get onto the palace grounds unnoticed when nopony has taken the time to change the patrol schedules."  Those words came easily and without aggression from Soldier On.  It took her much longer to find more.

        As the silence grew longer, Reckoning began to watch On with a shocked expression. "You aren't seriously considering–"

        "I won't be Roscherk!"  Both pegasi in the room jumped at the volume of her response.  Rainbow remained hovering in the air as the mare continued with more controlled words.  "I... I won't be the one to keep her from her family."        

        A one-eyed gaze searched Rainbow for a very long moment, lingering in places that seemed to tell him nothing.  When he finally spoke up, it was with a tone that clearly forced itself to remain simple and neutral.  "She can take care of herself if something goes wrong."  He wasn't able to hold the forced tone long as he continued.  "Her Empatha is amazing; I'd say only the Commander is stronger.  Now I know where she gets it from.  I'm not sure I like it either, but she's too damn stubborn for either of us to stop her."  He'd been looking at Rainbow the entire time, but when his eye refocused, it became clear he had chosen to actually speak to her.  "I'd like to talk to you about this, but we don't have any time to waste."

        Soldier On sat down, only marginally decreasing her height.  "Are you determined to do this?  Are you sure?"  The words accompanied the first wave of truly deep emotion Rainbow had ever seen on the titan's face, and she had no idea of quite what to make of the expression.

        Showing no desire to explain her thoughts on the matter, Soldier On returned once more to the dangerous business at hoof.  "Reckoning, you're right.  We don't have time to waste arguing.  We need to be moving as soon as possible.  Rainbow, do you have any money?"

        Caught off-guard by the question, Rainbow's brow rose.  "What?"

        "We need equipment for the trip.  Suida is hostile territory, and harsh terrain.  I'd rather purchase supplies than steal them; it’s faster, and it leaves less of a hoofprint for the others to follow."

        "What's that supposed to mean?" Reckoning wondered aloud.

        On's expression did not change with her explanation, remaining firm and businesslike.  "I'm the most wanted pony in Equestria right now.  It took me a lot of work to blend in here; especially when Roscherk showed up in town."  Her muzzle wrinkled momentarily in a slight display of disgust.  "Armor's guard think that I'm hiding in the Everfree Forest, but that won't last long once we start traveling. Celestia seems to believe our mission is going to put Equestria at war, so we have to worry about that too."

        Reckoning briefly flashed a scowl of his own.  "It's Princess Celestia, On."

        The earth ponies voice dropped to an unmotivated muttering.  "We aren't guards anymore, Reckoning.  She's just another pony."  On rolled her eyes, resuming her prior focus.  "We're wasting time.  The point is that there are going to be guardsponies coming after us.  Especially if you're coming, Rainbow.  We need to move fast, which starts with gearing up fast.  So I'll ask again: how much money do you have?"

        "Uh, a few hundred bits.  It's not much..."

        On didn't seem to be listening beyond the first sentence.  "Not enough.  I can survive without a weapon, and you have your machete, but she needs something."

        "Her Empatha is amazing, On.  I mean, really."

        "I saw the Sonic Rainboom, Reckoning.  But even the Commander gets tired.  And I'd hoped we could get something to repel the Boar's Arcana."

        "I could go back to Canterlot, or hit the armory in Manehattan.  They'd give me armor."

        "You might as well be telling Celestia to her face what we're planning.  Bad enough what you already told Flag.  We don't have a unicorn, so we need something to give us an advantage there.  We'd be better off grabbing some Royal Guards and making off with theirs–"

        Rainbow's ears perked up more and more as the discussion progressed, until at last a small smiled had wormed its way onto her face.  "I can get us skysteel."

        Soldier On momentarily let her jaw go slack, though it only took her a spare second to regain her attention.  "How?"  Rainbow's mouth lost the race to answer the question.  "No, wait.  I don't care, as long as it doesn't warn the guard.  Take Reckoning, get what you can.  A weapon for yourself, and armor for both of you.  Keep it light, and concealable if you can.  Reckoning, see if you can get a set of shoes for me."

        Rainbow looked at the older mare as if she were insane.  "Uh, you know how skysteel works, right?"

        "Yes."

        "It's made of clouds."

        "I'm aware."

        Rainbow fluttered the tips of her wings in the air.  "And you're an earth pony..."

        On grumbled something in Stalliongradi under her breath.  "All Royal Guard armor incorporates some level of skysteel, between a layer of cushioning for comfort in wear, and the gilded exterior, for protection against Arcana.  I have my shoes made the same way."  She turned away from Rainbow and toward Dead Reckoning.  "Pure stratus with a bladed leading edge and flying tails.  Do your best to balance them, if you can."

        "Relax, On.  I've got a bit of experience working with skysteel."  He flipped out his machete, revealing its hideously jagged edge.  "I've been keeping this thing together for going on thirty years."

        "That's skysteel?"  Rainbow struggled to contain her disbelief.  "It looks like crap."

        "Well, apologies for not having a fancy smelter handy in the middle of Zebrica. It used to be a standard issue machete, but things tend to break down in the jungle.  I had to heat and cool the clouds with my own Empatha, and make off with whatever clouds I could fly up and grab.  Fire isn't really my thing, which is sort of why the blade came out this jagged.  It's got about every kind of cloud you can imagine in it.  Still cuts great, though."

        "I noticed."  Rainbow glanced back to her right flank, where a thin line of a five-month old scar had mostly blended in with the red segment of her tri-tone lightning bolt.  Rainbow realized just how distracted she had become when she turned back to Reckoning, and saw his broken wing resting in a white sling.  "We'll have to go to Cloudsdale, and you can't fly."  It took only a moment to conjure a solution.  "I bet Twilight will let us borrow her hot air balloon."

        "How long will it take?" Soldier On asked.

        "The balloon's kinda slow.  Maybe seven hours or something..."

        "Tell Twilight Sparkle you will be borrowing her balloon for a week."

        "Uh, why?  That's a long time to begin with, but–"

        "When Twilight realizes you are gone with us, her dragon will tell Celestia.  The longer that message is delayed, the easier our journey will be. A week is long, but believable."  On glanced at the broken doorframe.  "No more time for questions.  Go now.  Wake her, or her dragon.  Take the balloon.  I'll get clothing.  We meet at the Ponyville train station at a quarter to five this afternoon."  

        Rainbow and Reckoning walked out of the small clubhouse together.  As they walked across the snowy apple orchards, a quick glance back found their third companion hefting a door across her back, putting immense effort into repairing damage that had been caused with little more than a stray thought.

        Twilight Sparkle slammed so many books into her suitcase that there was barely room for a single set of her academic, arcane robes.  Even for the youngest Archmage in the history of the Royal Academy, squeezing the container shut was an impossible war.  Finally, out of irritation, she grabbed four small focusing crystals (gifts from her older brother's empire) and jammed them into the corners of the container.  After that, it took only a slight burst of magic to make the interior of the container larger than its actual dimensions.  Rather than accepting the solution, Twilight observed that she had created more space, and proceeded to fill it with more books.

        Her focus was rattled by a knocking at the door.  The sheer force of her telekinesis being interrupted sent Volume XIV of the Complete Equestrian Encyclopedia of Law hurtling across the library.  Irritated, she stepped away from her container and strode across the room. "Gaah!  Pinkie, if you're inviting me to another surprise midnight party, I'll turn your cannon into–"  The door to the library flew open, revealing a pair of unexpected faces.  "Rainbow?  Mr. Reckoning?"

        "Hey, Twilight."  Rainbow scratched the back of her neck, recognizing the awkwardness of the hour.

        Dead Reckoning had enough of an advantage in years of social interaction to step in where Rainbow's words had failed.  "I'm sorry, Twilight.  Did we wake you?"

        She glanced back at the aftereffects of Hurricane Twilight, which had just swept through the center of the public institution.  "Well, no, actually.  The Princess just sent Spike a letter.  She wants me at a Royal Academy Council Meeting.  It's actually my first one since becoming an Archmage.  I'm a little nervous."

        Despite his lack of depth perception, Reckoning had clearly noticed some small sliver of the room behind the unicorn mare.  "A little?"

        "Yeah."  Rainbow chuckled under her breath.  "You should see her when she gets really worried.  It's pretty funny."

        Twilight's eyes rolled under the even line of her bangs.  "Laugh it up, Rainbow.  I really do need to get back to packing.  I have to be in Canterlot by eight A.M.  Actually, I was expecting to see you there.  You got back fast."  Twilight gestured for the two pegasi to enter the library as she turned back to packing half the library's texts into her newly fabricated extra-dimensional suitcase.

        Rainbow was grateful the mare's back was turned, as her mouth struggled to form the lie she'd been handed by Soldier On.  "Oh, uh, yeah.  Actually, Twilight, we were wondering if we could borrow your hot air balloon for a few days..."

        "Days?  What for?"

        "Well..."  Rainbow's words trailed off.  Thankfully, they seemed to imply a level of shame at her request, rather than the truth of the matter: that she had no idea what sort of an excuse to use.

        "I need to get to Cloudsdale," Reckoning picked up, clearly cognizant of the younger mare's struggles with lying to her friend.  "Figured I should get somepony to look at my wing, and almost all the specialists are at Cloudsdale General.  Obviously, with a broken wing, I can't fly.  I was going to ask the Princess for a few other guards to pull a chariot, but when Rainbow said you had a balloon..."  He let his voice trail off quite deliberately, before picking up a moment later.  "I hope we aren't asking something inconvenient."

        "Oh, no, I guess.  I'm taking the train up the mountain anyway."  Twilight didn't even glance back over her shoulder as she sorted her works.  "Rainbow, have you seen Commander Hurricane's journal?"

        "Uh, no.  You freaked out when I touched it last time."

        "It's eight thousand years old, and you almost bent the spine!" Twilight shouted suddenly, before realizing her volume.  She winced noticeably, before going back to packing once more.  "Sorry.  I was done copying the text, so I wanted to bring the original to the Canterlot Archives."

        Showing exactly the sort of respect for the near-religious status of the ancient leader of the pegasi that Rainbow would expect, Reckoning donned another goofy, smug grin.  "What is it, a book of racial slurs about unicorns and earth ponies?"
        
        "I'm going to ignore that," Twilight muttered through gritted teeth.  "Use the balloon as long as you need.  Are you two both going to stay up there the whole time, or are you coming back soon, Rainbow?"

        For the first time in the conversation, Rainbow decided to take the reins in deceiving her friend.  "I kinda thought I'd spend some time with my grandpa, actually.  Maybe catch a Wonderbolts show."

        "Sounds fun," Twilight muttered with a total lack of interest.  "I'll have Spike tell the others you're going."  Rainbow nodded to Reckoning, and the two pegasi moved to leave the library.  A few final words from Twilight froze the former's hooves in mid-step.  "When you get back, you should think about staying in town for a bit.  We're worried about you, Rainbow."

        "Uh... yeah."  The pegasus felt a knot form in her throat as her words hung void and empty.  "After this, I promise.  Just one more little trip."

        Knocking on a door with Arcana was something of an involved act, but Foresight preferred the greater control his magic gave him over the risk of creating either too loud or too quiet a noise.  Then he waited.  The pause gave him time to truly appreciate the finer things in that moment of his life.  Things like the drab gray of the castle's thick stones, or the painful white light emanating from the naked lightbulbs strung up along the ceiling overhead.  They were the result of his insistence that Castle Burning Hearth be brought up to a modern standard.  That morning, just a few hours before dawn, he was learning to hate them.  Though there were no bags under his eyes, their absence was not a decent indicator of his physical wellbeing.  He was tired, and found himself longing for the warmth of the bed he had been stolen from only minutes prior.

        As the noise of approaching footsteps became audible through the heavy wood of the door, Foresight forced himself to stand upright, and moved the focus of his magic to adjust the lapels of his jacket.  It was a very strange thing for the stallion to realize that he was well and truly naked.  While certainly not a faux pas indoors, Foresight couldn't help but liken his wardrobe to his brother's cheap black jacket.  Being without at least a light coat or a shirt felt wrong.  

        When the door opened, Foresight had to force himself not to widen his eyes in surprise.  "Lord Krenn?"

        "Are you surprised to see me in the suite you yourself granted, Predvidenie?"

        The stallion coughed gently to disperse some of his awkwardness.  "I had assumed you would be asleep, and that one of your companions would meet me."

        Krenn leaned heavily against the doorframe, supporting himself where his stunted leg could not.  Foresight stared into his draconic eyes, and forced down a shudder.  He'd never been the best stallion in the world at reading the emotions of others, and attempting to discern what was going on in Krenn's draconian mind was like to decipher a foreign language with an unfamiliar alphabet while blindfolded.  

        Thankfully, Krenn gave some hint of his thoughts, in the form of his dry and scaled black lips peeling away from his vicious fangs.  "I have just woken up from a twenty-year nap, unicorn.  I suspect I won't be able to sleep for a year or two, even if I wanted to.  No, I've been keeping myself busy reading the history of this structure.  It's fascinating what you ponies achieve with such limited lifetimes.  Perhaps I gave your magical talent too little credit when we spoke yesterday."  The dragon lord maintained his grip on the door as he gave a rather stiff and strangely choreographed bow.  "You have my apologies."

        "It's no trouble, Krenn."  This time, Foresight remembered that the title of 'lord' was a pony term for the dragon, and omitted it as was preferred.  "Father has asked me to welcome you on two short errands."  The unicorn hesitated, fiddling with his silver mane.  "I understand if the hour may be inconvenient–"

        "Nonsense.  I would prefer intelligent company to sitting alone and reading while the rest of the world sleeps."

        Foresight's posture slacked visibly with relief.  "Of course.  Well, Father has opened Frostbite's vaults, and he suggested we try and find this bag you're looking for."

        For the very first time Foresight had ever observed, Krenn's smile did not look like it was a declaration of hunger.  "Excellent."  The dragon opened his mouth, and a small burst of black flame issued over his tongue.  Rather than dissipating into smoke, the ball of fire began to drip what looked like quicksilver onto the floor.  Foresight stepped back, but Krenn merely smiled as the drips turned into a drizzle, and then an outright flow.  Rather than pooling across the floor, the molten metal built upon itself as a cylinder a little more than two inches in diameter.  Soon, Krenn's walking staff was reformed.  He claimed the apparently cool metal, and set it on the ground beside his malformed right leg.  "Shall we go?"

        Foresight nodded, unable to find words as a reflection of his utter awe toward the dragon god.  "That's... amazing."

        Krenn limped out into the hallway, and the two odd companions began their relatively short journey.  "It's simple magic, when you have both Arcana and Empatha.  A dragon need simply attune themselves to a location as their hoard, and their breath will have the ability to conjure anything they have stored there, or return items by the same method.  It can be very convenient, though items must be fully melted or burnt.  As we spoke of before, gold is a favorite.  Most dragons of decent size can burn it.  Steel, though..."  He tapped his staff with his claws, eliciting a brief but cheerful tune.

        "Astounding," Foresight couldn't help but mutter.

       "Perhaps.  But then, I have a gift.  What I found astounding is that your species governed themselves for so long without your Princesses watching over you."

        As they reached the stairs that lead down through the very heart of the castle, Foresight shrugged.  "I can't imagine it's that great of a feat.  From what I understand, you don't really govern the other dragons."

        Foresight started when a third voice joined in on the conversation.  "You might find that the dragons have a very elegant political system, despite their shortage of formal law."  Private Marathon had been gliding gently down the hall as she spoke.  The motion and words both ended with a sharp whistling, that terminated with Krenn holding a sword of at least her height in her direction.

        The dragon glanced down at his weapon, almost as much in surprise that he was holding it as the two ponies were.  He set the tip against the ground.  The steel swam like water and the blade disappeared, once more becoming a tall staff.  "I would ask that you announce yourself, subject of Luna, when approaching me at night.  I do not take well to surprises."

        Marathon dropped to the ground gently, and prostrated herself in a low bow.  "Apologies, Krenn.  I had assumed you'd seen me.  Don't dragons see well in the dark?"

        "Most dragons do, yes.  Most dragons of my age also have a pair of grown wings, and two functional legs."  The dragon ruler rolled his shoulders, eliciting a clicking of scales against one another, but the utter absence of popping joints.  "One does not live to my age without scars.  I am grateful that mine are physical."

        At this point, Foresight felt the need to step in as a host.  "Did you need something, Ambassador?  Or can I arrange something for the Princess, perhaps?"

        Marathon winced lightly at the mention of Luna, though the emotion was hidden well enough that to most ponies, it might have passed for an itchy nose or a cramp.  "Nothing like that, Foresight.  The staff have been incredibly hospitable.  I'm actually on my way down to the dungeons."

        Krenn's scaled brow slid upward across his forehead as his eye glanced from the pegasus to Foresight and back.  The unicorn stallion shared the feeling of confusion.  He tried his best at humor to break the ice.  "If your quarters aren't acceptable, I can find you something else.  I don't think you want your stay to become... long-term."  Rather than jest, the poorly delivered joke came across almost as a threat.

        Thankfully, Marathon handled it well.  "I won't be long.  It's Honor Guard business, I'm afraid.  Just a few brief questions."

        Foresight shrugged and nodded.  "I suppose I won't step on my brother's hooves.  At least you have the decency to do your interrogations when everypony else is asleep.  The dungeons come up from a separate stairwell, in the hall attached to the old barracks.  Go back down this hall, take a right, and look for the burnt, iron-banded door.  That'll take you down through the storage, but when you hit the bottom, you'll be where you want."

        "Thank you.  I'll see you tomorrow."

        Lord Krenn watched as the pegasus mare turned to fly away.  "You may want to announce yourself to any guards, pegasus.  They may not have as tight of control as I do."

        Only when the mare was truly gone did Foresight return his attention to his goal.  "That was interesting.  I'm sorry for the interruption.  We were talking about... politics of some kind?"

        "My rule, if memory serves."  Krenn shrugged, gesturing for Foresight to once more lead the way down the stairs.  "Functional anarchy is a luxury we enjoy simply by the limits of our population.  How many ponies live within this city of yours?"

        "Three million in the city limits.  Another two, give or take, in the surrounding hills outside the valley."  A spark in Foresight's memory picked up.  "Or is that the Valley?"  

        His shifted emphasis put another curious look on Krenn's face.  "You remembered Luna's words."

        "There aren't many ponies who will ignore either of our princesses when they speak."

        The dragon unleashed a grumbling chuckle.  "Be careful, or we may soon find ourselves in a battle of words.  I fear my experience is far greater than yours.  But you wished to hear of the Valley, as your princess and I knew it.  Very well."

        The spiraling staircase continued downward.  "Eighty-thousand years ago,  when I was but a tiny hatchling, I was taken from my kin and brought near this place.  It was an island, off the coast of the place you call Trotsylvania.  I was not the first of my kind to be taken, but I was the youngest."

        "What were they?" Foresight asked in awe.  "Ponies?  Other dragons?"

        "Not they; a single being.  Some half-breed or Tartaran monstrosity.  I never learned his nature.  Some of your species destroyed him, and freed us."  He growled gently.  "I was wingless, and too young to make my way back to my kin on my own."

        "I'm sorry."

        "There are old wounds, Predvidenie, and then there are ancient ones.  Besides, how many of those dragons gained immortality?  I only tell you that story so that you can appreciate it when I tell you that this place was my childhood home, just as it was Luna's and her sister's."

        "They were born here?"

        "Your curiosity is admirable, but you have asked too many questions for one day, and my leg tires of walking. How much deeper does this accursed stair go?"  

        "Only two more stories," Foresight answered.  

        "I am afraid I have grown tired of serving as the storyteller tonight, and I'm not so sure I even know two more stories of that length."  Krenn smiled when he earned a chuckle from his equine host.  "Perhaps you have something more interesting to tell me.  How did you and your father come into ownership of this castle?"

        "Very violently," Foresight answered.  "To summarize an incredibly long story, Baron Frostbite was unwilling to believe that your species was not simply about to come charging down again on the city."

        "You overthrew him to make peace with my dragons?"  Krenn's brow rose.

        "In small part, perhaps, but also because his paranoia about a draconic invasion had blinded him to the well being of his Domain.  He conscripted..."  Foresight stopped as the spiral staircase led off into a small, straight hallway.  At its far end, a pair of huge doors hung ever so slightly ajar.  They were made of steel and gold, and covered in more gems than most anypony could care to imagine.  Despite the dazzling variety, the image engraved on the doors was clear.

        Three ponies stared at the approaching unicorn and the limping dragon who followed.  On the far left, a pale white unicorn mare with a slender horn and a luxuriant purple mane.  Her eyes were directed across the paired doors, to a brown earth pony stallion with what could only be described as a moronic hat.  Hovering above and between the pair with one wing spread across each door was a pegasus stallion with a coat as black as his armor.

        Krenn's grumbled something in Draconic.  While the language was not far removed from Stalliongradi, the slithering of his forked tongue and the growling from his throat left the words indecipherable to Foresight.  

        Rather than bother for clarification, Foresight gestured toward the doors with a hoof.  "This is the door to the vaults, Krenn."

        "That pony."

        Foresight was confused by the words, which seemed to have nothing to do with the vault.  He turned back to Krenn's reptilian eyes, and saw them glaring at the depiction of the pegasus in the center of the wall.

        "Commander Hurricane?"

        "I would destroy him, if given the chance."

        Foresight shook his head.  "I see.  Krenn, that armor is an heirloom.  I don't know which pony who wore it wronged you in the past, but this stallion, Commander Hurricane, has been dead for more than eight thousand years."  There was a moment of trepidation before he continued.  "The most recent stallion to wear it died less than six months ago."

        "Pity," Krenn muttered, before stalking forward in a silence that marked the absence of any explanation.  His guide followed gently, walking narrowly between the heavy doors that he lacked the capacity to open on his own.

        The vaults were the image of pure darkness.  Though surprisingly warm, their crushing blackness left the unicorn stallion feeling claustrophobic.  Foresight's horn ignited with a faint blue light.  The magic itself provided little illumination, but that was not his intent.  Sensing Arcana, rows of hundreds of magical crystals began to shed a warm yellow glow.

        Krenn and Foresight stood at the edge of a huge octagonal segment of stone, three hundred feet across.  The door behind them was centered in its wall, but the other seven edges were dominated by massive, fifty-foot tall stone arches.  Behind these towering pillars were long vaulted catacombs, stretching off in all directions farther than eyes could pierce.  Overhead, catwalks and balconies suggested three higher stories within the space.

        There was far more to observe than the mere architecture, however.  Massive shelves dominated the space, stretching up through the various floors and toward the ceiling.  The space nearest the door held only books and scrolls, but farther in opposite the door, the shelves held all manner of other curiosities.  Rusted swords, clothes, globes for worlds that no longer existed, and things which escaped the capacity of words to describe.

        The center of the octagon was alone in its nature.  Utterly devoid of shelves, it was instead populated by a variety of old but well-made cushions and seats, alongside other trinkets large enough to stand on their own as furniture.  An enormous crystal ball rested beside a lectern at the proper height for a pony.  Without hesitation, Foresight began to make his way toward the lounge-like area.

        "This place is surprising."  Krenn looked up at the ceiling.  "It's too large.  Do the other floors of the castle open on this vault as well?"

        "Not quite."  Foresight's magic levitated the largest chair in the lounge space, placing it behind the limping dragon as he approached.  "Are you familiar with spatial stretching?"

        Krenn's eyes narrowed.  "Do not think you can lecture me on magic!  I know more than the sum of your entire species."

        Foresight took a full step back as the dragon's teeth gnashed with his harsh words.  "I didn't mean to offend!"  After catching his breath, Foresight continued.  "This chamber is seven times larger on the inside than the outside.  Each of the seven vaults off of this chamber are likewise seven times larger, and each leads to a further octagonal hub."

        "Difficult magic, even for me."

        "No pony knows how it was built.  Some say Star Swirl the Bearded made the vaults, while others argue the cave has always been here.  What's amazing is that each of those seven hubs branches again, and again, until seven layers of depth have been achieved."  Foresight watched Krenn's expression, and noted the awe found there.  "If somepony were to walk past every shelf in the vault, they would have traveled a million miles, though it doesn't take all too long to get to a specific shelf if you know where it is."

        "Are all the vaults filled?" Krenn asked, gesturing to the sheer volume of arbitrary 'stuff' sitting on the various visible shelves.  

        "Not all of them are filled with shelves in this way.  There are some chambers off the sixth arch that just have huge scorch marks, with ambient Arcana and Endura floating around.  Monsters live in some of the others.  At least, that's what the catalogue says.  I've never been more than two vaults deep."  As Foresight made his explanation, he walked over to the lectern, where a huge leather-bound tome sat open.

        "You trust a book?  Or is that what the scrying sphere is for?"

        Foresight glanced at the crystal ball.  "Oh, no.  That's... well..."  Growing increasingly uncomfortable, he scratched his brow with his hoof.  "Just a leftover of Baron Frostbite's.  I haven't wanted to risk breaking it trying to move it somewhere else.  But, uh, to answer your question.  Right, the book."  Foresight nodded emphatically.  "It's enchanted to the vault, to know every item within.  For example, in the main hub, we have Predvidenie, son of Tsar Eye, and..."  Foresight's brow rose.  "Is Krenn your name, or merely a title?"

        "All names are merely titles."

        Foresight nodded.  "A fair point.  On that topic, does this bag you're looking for have a title?"

        "No."

        The unicorn flipped past a few pages.  "Do you know who brought it here?"

        "Not by name," Krenn answered.  "But I suspect you do."

        "Really?  Who?"

        "The stallion in the black armor."

        The day passed from the starry darkness that would still be called night through a rather hurried an unimpressive dawn.  A pair of pegasi struggled to bring a hot air balloon into the clouds.  An assassin wore the face of a warrior as the pony in question fought icy headwinds.  An older soldier lay in agony in a tiny cell, embracing his new glimmer of hope.  And, at eight o'clock in the morning on January the Twenty-First, 1453 A.S., Twilight Sparkle barely managed to suppress a panic attack.

        "What if I don't know what she needs?"  Twilight paced back and forth on the checkered marble floor in the heart of the Royal Academy, just outside their largest conference room.

        She was the only pony standing.  Seven other unicorns had gathered outside the door, and all of them were sitting quietly on the various benches, waiting for Celestia to open the doors.  One of them, a pale green stallion, leaned his head back and sighed. "Please, uh, Archmage Sparkle... can you stop pacing?  You aren't the only one worried here."  Cloudy Mirror's words did little to help Twilight's concern.  Instead, the chair of illusions found himself the focus of Twilight's complete attention.

        "But you've all done this before!" Twilight cried out.  "Princess Celestia has always been my teacher, but now she wants my advice?  What am I supposed to do?  What can I–"

        "For the love of Star Swirl's Beard, Twilight, sit down!"  Dr. Graymane, foremost researcher on non-unicorn magical forms in Equestria, bellowed at his former student.  "You are not behaving like an Archmage, nor are you behaving like Celestia's student."  

        Twilight didn't even bother moving to a bench; the idea probably had not entered her mind.  Her hind legs simply folded up beneath her, and she fell onto her rump.  "Sorry, professor."

        "The only thing I'm professing at the moment is my annoyance!" Graymane snapped.  His lengthy beard swung from side to side as he spoke, serving as a metronome to keep pace with his irritation.  "Bad enough that I be stolen from bed at this unnatural hour, but to suffer so many infants at a meeting of the college council–"

        A small red unicorn mare spoke from beneath the point where her hooves were pinching the base of her muzzle.  "You might wish to stop speaking before you dig yourself a hole, Dr. Graymane.  Perhaps the reason you're seeing so many 'infants' around is because you yourself are getting old.   I seem to recall you being the one most vocal in approving Twilight's thesis."

        The stallion grumbled.  "Yes, well... Brilliant though she may be, it isn't an excuse to behave like a foal."

        "I think Twilight is simply..."  Crystal Ball's words were cut off as the doors to the conference room swung open at the behest of a golden aura.  

        Unlike the rest of the Royal Academy, with its thick gray stone brick walls, the interior of this particular conference room was made up in the most modern of sensibilities.  Wood paneling framed tasteful sky blue wall  A dozen cushioned chairs flanked a table of polished walnut.  Opposite the door, at the head of this table, Princess Celestia sat beside a unicorn mare whom Twilight did not recognize.  Her pale mane matched Celestia's coat, though her dark blue coat  seemed likely to blend in with the walls of the chamber.

        "Please, take a seat," Celestia requested.  The smile that accompanied the request was enough to get Twilight back on her feet, though the young mare was unable to shake the sensation that beneath her mask of calm, something was truly troubling Celestia.  At least to begin, she chose not to comment on it.

        As seats were granted by length of membership, Twilight found herself sitting opposite Cloudy Mirror at the far end of the table from her mentor.  Four semi-familiar faces filled the space between those two ponies as Celestia's closest advisors: Dr. Graymane and Crystal Ball.  

        Celestia waited until everypony was seated, though she wasted not a second after Dr. Graymane's flank met his cushioned seat to begin speaking.

        "I'd like to apologize for calling you all here so early, and on such short notice, but this a matter of some urgency.  As such, we will skip the usual introductions."  Her eyes flicked to the mare at her side, and in response, she was handed a tightly bound scroll.  Celestia set it on the tabletop and looked across the faces of her advisors.  "Yesterday, the assassin Masquerade escaped."

        The sound that followed was as though every one of the unicorns had been punched.  Twilight was the one to respond.  "Is she going after–"

        "Please, Twilight, if you'll let me finish, I suspect I might answer many of your questions."  Celestia took a moment to sweep over the gazes of her advisors, though the motion lasted less than two seconds.  "Unlike the previous... incident, we have warning, and we know what to expect out of Masquerade.  I've put my best guardsponies on her tail.  That is not why I've summoned you here.  You see, Masquerade did not escape by herself."

        "A traitor?" Dr. Graymane asked gently.

        "To the nation, yes.  But this other pony was not present.  Rather, she was able to offer Masquerade guidance, and sabotage my cell for the assassin from a great distance."

        "You know it was a mare?"  Twilight asked.

        Celestia shook her head.  "No, simply a generic gender.  Apologies."

        It would have been common to hear eight ponies wave away Celestia's mistake, but at that moment, urgency overrode normal courtesy.  Instead, Crystal Ball leaned forward.  "How can we offer our assistance?"

        "I have two questions, which may lead to more.  Firstly, Dr. Graymane and Twilight, I believe you might have special input on this.  Masquerade was able to break through an alicorn door."

        "Could you explain the term, Princess?" a stallion halfway up the table with half-moon glasses asked aloud.

        "They are an old variant of the principle of an Arcana lock.  Various magical foci are placed on a door, usually in the form of crystals.  Those foci have to be stimulated in the correct order, as a form of combination, in order to unlock the door.  However, an alicorn door does not function off of Arcana alone.  Some of the foci will only respond to Empatha, or Endura.  Thus, barring a very select few ponies, the doors are impregnable by any group of less than three."

        A few hushed whispers spread across the table, though Celestia ignored them.

        "Are you certain this 'other' pony isn't an alicorn as well?"

        Celestia shook her head.  "I suspect either a unicorn or an alicorn, but the matter is irrelevant.  It was Masquerade who broke through, without help.  I know that Masquerade broke through one of the doors because anypony coming in from the outside would have had to pass through two to reach her."

        "I'm not sure I understand..." Crystal Ball observed, echoing the thoughts of the collected council.

        "In addition to escaping, Masquerade stole an item of some value from within the palace, which I thought was secure.  Further, she was able to walk away right in front of me, disguised as Captain Red Ink of my Honor Guard, and my magic failed to detect her illusions.  To be blunt, mares and stallions, I am tired of being deceived by this assassin.  I'd like your theories on how she continues to achieve this impossible magic."

        Dr. Graymane stroked his beard as he sat back.  "There are a number of spirits and creatures that could mimic the form of a pony to achieve what you describe, Princess.  I suppose I'll ask the first, and most obvious question: could Discord be behind it?"

        Celestia glanced down the table in Twilight's direction.  "Unless I haven't been informed, he's still petrified following the incident with the dragons.  Is that correct?"

        "Yes, Princess," Twilight answered calmly.  "I still think we ought to free him."

        Celestia nodded gently.  "I agree, Twilight, but things aren't so simple.  Regardless, this is not the place or time for such a discussion.  Dr. Graymane, you seemed to have another idea."

        He cleared his throat.  "Yes, Princess, though I have my suspicions on the subject.  There does exist a type of... parasite, which can disguise itself perfectly as other ponies, and wield all three forms of magic."

        "You refer to the changelings?" Celestia asked.

        "Yes.  As I'm sure Mr. Mirror can explain, Changeling disguises do not function under the normal laws of illusion."  The esteemed professor glanced down the table.

        Suddenly under the gazes of all his peers and Princess Celestia, Cloudy Mirror grimaced.  Ever the illusionist, it did not take him long to recover with a smile and a bit of kind acting that did nothing to hide the discomfort he felt within.  "That's correct, Dr. Graymane.  I'd liken a Changeling's disguises more to shape-shifting than to illusion.  To give you an example..."  Cloudy Mirror closed his eyes and his horn ignited.  Before the eyes of the other mages and archmages, his body grew bloated and fat until he was quite literally rolling over the sides of his seat.  "Archmage Sparkle, if you'd care to, uh, poke me."

        Knowing exactly what to expect, Twilight stretched out a hoof across the table and poked the stallion in his newfound gut.  To her utter lack of surprise, her hoof went straight through the immaterial image.

        "Although a clever mage can, for example, levitate a board within their illusion to create physical contact, no illusion is ever actually physically solid.  Changelings, in contrast, are able to physically change shape within certain restrictions.  Although their organs can become considerably less dense internally, I understand they're still 'mostly' subject to conservation of mass. " With no sound or transition, Cloudy Mirror's false gut disappeared, revealing the young and slender stallion it had concealed.  "I've done a bit of research, but I feel like I'm not the correct pony to be asking for this matter.  That ordeal two years ago notwithstanding, I've never even seen a changeling.  Even when they attacked Canterlot, I was able to put an illusion over the door to my classroom and keep it sealed off for my students."

        The gazes of the academics and Princess Celestia shifted together to face Twilight Sparkle.  Nopony even had to say it out loud.  It was simply known that she was the one to ask for encounters with such dangerous beasts.

        "Uh..."  Twilight hesitated for just a moment, before clearing her throat.  This was just a dissertation, really.  A very high-stakes dissertation.  In fact, lives were likely riding on her ability to convey her academic knowledge.  Realizing where her mind was going, she forced herself to toss away the thoughts.  "Yes, well, Dr. Graymane... "  She hesitated.  Correcting teachers was simply something you didn't do, and Dr. Graymane had been teaching the mare for half her lifetime.  "Changeling drones... aren't that smart.  They aren't hive-minded, really, but they are mostly instinctual.  They can usually understand orders from their queen, and those are largely pheromone based.  I doubt they would have lasted for her extended imprisonment.  Also, didn't my brother set up anti-changeling spells?"

        Celestia turned to the mare at her side, who stepped forward and spoke up.  "Shining Armor and I did design an array of Changeling detection wards.  One of these wards was tripped on the night of Princess Luna's attempted assassination, but we believe that may have been a deliberate action, used as a distraction."  Twilight nodded, but the mare's words did not stop.  "You're overlooking a possibility however.  There is a caste of Changelings who are capable of their own thought.  We took to calling them 'warriors' in keeping with the hierarchy of a termite colony."

        "Excuse me, but who are you?" one of the ponies in the center of the table asked.  "And, more importantly, what is the source of this information?"

        The mare, clearly annoyed, glared at the pony who had interrupted her.  "I am Captain Flag, and the source of the information is an extended series of military operations against the Changeling Hive on the Suidan border, two years ago."

        The name perked Twilight's attention.  "Wait, are you White Flag?  From the Battle of Treasonfang–"

        "Twilight, please."  Celestia's interruption was far more gentle than the glare that White Flag shot in the direction of the youngest mare present in the room.  "Again, now is not the time to discuss history.  Captain Flag, are you suggesting that Masquerade might be one of these changeling warriors?"

        "It is a possibility," the soldier muttered through gritted teeth.  "She's proven smart enough to beat our other wards.  Changeling warriors are what happens when a pony–or any other creature–is left in their cocoons after their love is drained away."  Several of the ponies at the table recoiled at the revelation, and a gagging noise escaped from somepony's throat.  White Flag was unfazed by her own statement.  "Thankfully, they are rare.  We freed most of the captives from the Canterlot invasion in time.  Though they are forced to serve the hive, they retain their former sentience and intellect."  Flag retained her scowl as she turned to address Celestia directly.  "If that's the case, then Queen Chrysalis is behind the plot.  Changelings don't act alone.  Does that scroll you brought tell us anything about the 'contractor'?"

        "If that is the case, it's unlikely Masquerade is a changeling."  Celestia unrolled the scroll on the table, and cast a simple spell.  The writing on the parchment rose up to hover in the air over the table, enlarged, where everypony could easily see it.  "I received this message from the other pony, who admits to being behind the plot on my sister's life.  They also indicate that they have used the magic of divination to anticipate my actions, as well as the actions of the Honor Guard."

        There was a sudden silence at the table, and in that void of noise, Twilight felt left out.  She knew that divining the future was illegal by Equestrian law, but it a much lesser charge than treason and murder.

        Crystal Ball, whose name was rather indicative of her field of study, actually rose in her seat.  "This is concerning, Princess.  Does this... conspirator indicate the outcome of the divination?"

        With a flash of magic, a select few sentences from the letter grew to titanic size.

        The mages gasped and flinched and generally reacted poorly.  All save Twilight.  As a scholar, her eye studied the words closely.  Twice and then three times she scanned over them, noting all the intricacies and insinuations she could pick out.  

        Crystal Ball's shoulders sagged in resignation.  "If this is true, I'm not sure precisely what you want me to tell you, Princess.  There's really nothing to be done."

        The words managed to tear Twilight from her sixth re-reading.  "What?  Of course there's something to be done.  There's something we have to do.  We can stop the war its talking about!"

        Crystal Ball's mouth opened, and then shut.  "Twilight Sparkle, this is hard for all of us to see, but..."

        "Why are you pretending like this is set in stone?  Sure, there's maybe a prophecy, but even if there is–"

        "Have you never studied divination, Twilight?" Crystal Ball's inflection bore condemnation and spite.  "It is well known that once a prophecy is made, the future cannot be changed.  That's Electrum's Law.  I would have expected it to be covered in even a basic magical theory course."

        "But it isn't right," Twilight protested.  "If prophecy is always set in stone, how did my friends and I free Princess Luna from Nightmare Moon?  There was a prophecy about that too, and it said that she would bring about everlasting night."

        Crystal Ball scowled.  "If you're going to pretend to know better than one of the fathers of magical theory, miss Sparkle, I see no reason for you to remain on this council."

        Twilight actually rose to her hooves in her seat at the comment.  "When empirical observation doesn't agree with a theory, we discard it!  Yes, a prophecy is likely to come true, but that's just a result of Clover's Postulate.  When you make a prophecy, it wants to come true, so the magic tries to twist things to become true.  It might 'change' the future, but you can still overpower it with stronger magic, or more effort.  Even sheer willpower would beat that sort of a spell; just like telekinesis or transmutation, it's just a conflict of forces. Not some impossible nightmare!"

        What followed was a painful silence.  Twilight had been expecting a rebuttal from Crystal Ball or Dr. Graymane.  When her foremost mentor began to speak, it nearly tore the unicorn's heart in half.

        Celestia's words were hard pressed to come forth.  She didn't meet Twilight's gaze.  "You say that willpower can defeat a prophecy?  I have to disagree, Twilight Sparkle."

        "Princess, you've seen the Elements of Harmony–"

        Celestia winced.  "I know the Elements can break prophecy.  But I asked about willpower."  The mare took a slow and painful breath.  "One thousand years ago, when Equestria was gripped by the Twilight War, and Nightmare Moon was slaughtering my subjects, I realized that I needed to confront Luna's shade myself.  It was my plan to drain away her darkness into a set of void crystals, and allow the darkness to die, just as the ponies were dying.  The Captain of my Honor Guard urged me to look into the future, to ensure I would not die in our encounter.  I knew the dangers, but I ultimately took his advice."  After those words, Celestia finally looked up.  Even from across the table, Twilight could see the tears there on her face.  "The prophecy said that one of us would die at the others hooves.  I would defeat her, but I would have to choose.  I couldn't accept it."

        "So the Elements..."

        "I didn't use them until the end."

        Celestia stood over the black-coated monster, clad in gilded armor and panting.  The strain of their battle had drained her magic, leaving her mane mundane and her frame shortened and mortal.  Where once the sisters had fought within a great black castle, the force of their clash had blown away walls and ceiling until only a field of rubble beneath a great eclipse lingered overhead.

        The Nightmare glared at her, hissing and screaming where words had failed it.  Yet for all her rage, Celestia saw only her younger sister, tortured and ill.

        "Don't make me use the Elements, Luna."

        "I am not Luna!"

        A bolt of lightning flew from the monster's horn, catching Celestia's foreleg.  It burnt in pure agony for a short eternity, before the skysteel in her armor sucked away the potent Empatha.  "Don't make me do this, sister."

        "You're... too weak!  Too weak to strike me down!"

        Celestia glanced down at the pouch on her side.  Inside were a trio of black crystals.  She wanted desperately to try; to tempt fate and defy what she knew to be fact.  If it worked, she would have her sister back.  That was all that mattered, at least in the first moment of consideration.

        Yet if she failed... the cost would be too great.  Not just her own life, but Equestria.  The entire world.  Luna wasn't the only pony who needed the mare who moved the sun.  Her mind flashed across fields of corpses, and worse things.  In her mind, she saw faces.  His face.  She drew in a sharp, short breath.

        "I'm sorry."

        The sensation of wielding the elements had been familiar to the mare once.  Never before had it burned.  Never before had it brought tears to her eyes.  Amidst the cacophony and the vibrant chaos of pure, undiluted magic, Celestia's ears caught a single desperate phrase, from a voice she had not heard in more than a year.

        "Please, sister, no!  Don't!"

        She wanted to stop, but it was too late.

        "If willpower could have ended prophecy, then I was wrong.  If those words were so easily broken, I would not have had to live without my sister for a millennium."  Celestia did not struggle to deliver her words, and yet they bore more suffering than Twilight could truly comprehend.  "If what you say is true, Twilight, then I banished her because I didn't love her enough to try and save her."  Celestia shook her head.  "I can't believe that, Twilight."

        "You can't blame yourself for that choice, Princess," Twilight told her oldest friend.  "You did what you had to.  But there's no point just accepting this because somepony who tried to–"

        "That is enough, Twilight Sparkle."  White Flag began to walk around the table.  "Come with me."

        "But–"

        "That was not a request," Flag warned, before speaking over her shoulder.  "Princess, I suggest you take a moment to calm yourself, and then continue your discussion.  I will be having a word with the Archmage outside."

        The doors to the conference room slammed quite loudly behind Twilight, under the control of White Flag's Arcana.  The guardspony indicated for Twilight to take a seat on a waiting bench beside her.  

        After sitting down, on the verge of tears herself, Twilight looked into the other mare's eyes.  She saw a great deal of pain on White Flag's, amongst the subtle beginnings of wrinkles.  By Twilight's guess, the other unicorn was approaching fifty, though the fitness of her body hid most signs of that age well.  

        "Are you mad at me?" Twilight asked.

        "Personally, no."  Flag's answer was curt and blunt, and offered no comfort for the pain that the younger mare was feeling.  "But I took an oath to protect Princess Celestia.  Not merely her body, but her heart and soul as well.  You may have meant well, but your words were hurting her."

        "But if she doesn't understand that the prophecy isn't just guaranteed..."

        "Then what?"  Flag's brow rose, suggesting incrimination.  "Then she will not act on an opportunity to save her sister?  She is not the pony on the front lines, deciding whether or not to take action.  That is what we are for, Twilight. Myself, and you as well, in your own way.  If it is easier for Princess Celestia to believe that prophecy cannot be bent, we let her believe it."

        "What?"  Wiping tears from the corners of her eyes, Twilight found herself on the verge of shock.  "You mean you just tell her what she wants to hear?  Even if you have to lie to her?"

        "It's the Honor Guard's job, at times," Flag answered without hesitation.  "Sometimes we have to protect her from assassins.  Sometimes we have to protect her from the harsh truth.  Sometimes, we have to protect her from herself."

        "I'm not sure I really like the Honor Guard."

        "We don't like the Honor Guard.  But it is a job that has to be done."

        Twilight forced herself to discard thoughts of Rainbow Dash.  Left to its own devices her mind latched on to a different topic.  "Princess Celestia called you Captain Flag.  Did something happen to Red Ink?"

        "Red Ink is fine," Flag answered with her usual directness.  "A captaincy has been a long time coming for me."

        "I read about that.  Before the Battle of Treasonfang Pass, you were second-in-command under Unending Vigil, right?"

        White Flag's harsh demeanor turned to bloodlust.  Her legs slipped off the bench, and she began to walk down the hall.  She lacked even the courtesy to look Twilight in the eyes as she spoke.

        "You want to know about me, Twilight Sparkle?  I'm Captain White Flag of the Royal Guard.  My predecessor was killed by Masquerade in Stalliongrad yesterday."