//------------------------------// // Epilogue // Story: Mendacity // by Dromicosuchus //------------------------------// Steam piped and whistled from a stout copper teakettle, rising in eddying clouds through the warm, fragrant air. Two thick, round loaves of bread, fresh from the oven, lay on a scratched table pushed against the wall of the kitchen, and beside them on a wooden tray sat a small tub of butter, a tureen of hot carrot soup sprinkled with floating flecks of oregano, dried bananas, and fenugreek (Bon Bon wasn’t fond of banana as a spice herself, but Lyra swore by it. It was possibly a pony thing), several clean, neatly folded napkins, assorted utensils, and a stack of carved bowls. Bon Bon, her mane tied back with a kerchief and her flushed face dusted with a few patches of flour, surveyed the culinary still life before her with a satisfied smile on her face. The warmth, the smells, the gleam of her nice copper pots and pans and the wholesome realness of fresh baked bread... This? This was good. Pale green hooves clattered against the tiled floor as Lyra trotted into the kitchen, her mane still dripping from the shower that Bon Bon had insisted that she take. Her eyes widened. “Dang, that smells good.” She ambled across the room and draped herself over the changeling’s back like a wet dishrag. Peering up at her marefriend, who was trying to be irritated at being used as a clotheshorse and failing spectacularly, the unicorn continued, “I mean, really good. What about you, though? You didn’t make any broth for yourself?” Bon Bon motioned at the steaming tureen. “I thought I should have some soup as well. We don’t want to put Princess Celestia’s apprentice on edge. There’s a difference between knowing I don’t need food and seeing that I don’t need it, and it’s probably best for me to not be too strange.” Her voice dipped mid-sentence out of an Appleloosan twang into what she suspected was a Dunnish accent. “At least, as far as I can manage.” “You’ll do fine. It looks awesome.” She nuzzled the changeling’s mane. “Love ya, Bonnie.” “I love you too, dear heart.” Bon Bon smiled. This was best. “And thanks, I tried to get it looking nice. It’s just a shame I have to ruin it.” “Ruin it? What do you—Oh.” A knowing glance. “The chicken?” “The chicken.” They both looked over towards the little windowed alcove where they usually ate, now dim and shadowed in the evening twilight. A squat, garish patchwork chicken was lolling there atop a little two-pony table, surrounded by a tangle of sewing supplies and a half-empty bag of “Mr. Frisky’s Cat Nibbles.” Lyra set her horn aglow, and a golden aura materialized around one of the bulbous thing’s malformed legs and lofted it over to the tray, where the unicorn tucked it in between the butter and the soup tureen. After they had considered the effect of the little tableau for a few moments, Bon Bon silently grabbed one of the napkins in her mouth and covered the prismatic abomination. Lyra nodded. “Good call. Sort of a shame she’s got to be here, but I guess Sparkle needs to know about the bad as well as the good. Don't want her getting blindsided by it later. Should I take it in, then?” “No, I’ve got it.” Biting down on the two long loops threaded through the tray’s edges, the changeling shook Lyra off her back (“I am not going to carry you around all night.” “Aww…”), heaved the tray up, and trotted out into their den, followed by her marefriend. Her eyes widened as she entered the room. Setting her burden down on an old folding table sitting in front of the hearth, she turned to Lyra and exclaimed, “Goodness, this is lovely!” “You don’t have to sound so surprised,” grinned the unicorn. “Told ya I could manage fancy-schmancy. There’s a tablecloth and everything, and I used damp rags instead of newspaper around the bathtub.” Bon Bon winced. The chicken, the bathtub…Well, not everything could be perfect. “Clean rags?” “Cleanish.” “That’s…probably good enough, actually. Now, here’s hoping that she gets here before Twilight Sparkle does, so that we can get—“ She was interrupted by a loud clanking, clattering thud from the front passage, as though somepony wearing a tin-can hauberk had thrown themselves bodily against the door. Bon Bon sighed. “Speak of the draconequus.” Lyra’s brow furrowed. “What’s she trying to do, batter it down?” “No, she just doesn’t understand—“ Another heavy, rattling blow from the front door. “Sun and Moon…” The cream-colored mare trotted towards the anteroom. “There’s a latch, Aldrovanda! You push down on—“ Whatever else Bon Bon might have said was buried under a rush of thunks and crashes as the door swung open and a vaguely pony-shaped mound of detritus blundered in, tripping over the sill and sprawling across the floor in a tangled mass of limbs and refuse. Lyra trotted over and peered around her marefriend’s shoulder at the kelpie, who paused in her flailing to squint up at the two of them. “Doors,” hissed Aldrovanda, her voice dripping with venom. Bon Bon rolled her eyes. “You’ll get used to them eventually. I hope. We’ve got a tub of water set up for you, over there in the corner, and most of the things in the room aren’t edible, so please don’t try to eat anything just yet.” She started to turn away, but Lyra stopped her and whispered something in her ear. The changeling nodded. “Oh, that’s right. There is still nothing living inside the fireplace, so we’d really appreciate if you didn’t try to crawl up the chimney again.” Settling Aldrovanda in was oddly catastrophe-free. There were a few slight hiccups, but as Lyra pointed out that one cushion had never been very comfortable anyway. Privately, Bon Bon felt that this docility on the kelpie’s part was more than a little suspicious, but unfortunately she wasn’t able to do anything particularly productive about those suspicions. Their ramshackle guest had scarcely scrabbled into the bathtub, her eyes glittering darkly just above the water’s surface, when there came a hesitant tap at their door followed almost immediately by a firm tac-tac-tac. Lyra gave a little “here goes nothing” shrug and trotted over to the anteroom, while her marefriend hung back a moment to cast a warning glare at Aldrovanda. The kelpie made no reply other than a toothy smirk. Bon Bon scowled, and then followed her marefriend to the door. Lyra gave her an encouraging nod, and after drawing a deep breath the little changeling pulled the door open. “Hi! Hi. My name is Twilight Sp—RightYouKnewThatAlready.” The lavender unicorn standing on their doorstep flashed a smile that was just a little wider than it should have been, adjusted the saddlebag slung across her back, and then started guiltily at the dull clunk of metal against metal from within the cloth sack. All three mares froze. After a moment Bon Bon sniffed at the air, and said in a quiet, even tone, “Mage Starswirl’s Wort, too. You did do your research.” “And iron,” hissed Lyra. She started to step forward, her eyes narrowed and ears flattened back against her skull, but stopped at the touch of Bon Bon’s hoof on her shoulder. “It’s okay. I don’t blame her.” “Yeah, well I bloody well blame her. You’re the only reason she ever got out of that cave, and that ungrateful—“ “It’s okay, sweetie. It’s okay. There are lots of nasty stories about the Shee, you know—and most of them are true. I’d want some defense too, in her place.” She smiled reassuringly at their guest. “I’m sorry, I just—I wasn’t going to use it,” spluttered Twilight, her eyes darting from the changeling to the unicorn and back again. “It’s just—my books said—I—“ “Then what were you going to do with it?” demanded Lyra. “Listen, mare, you so much as touch a hair on her head, and I’ll take your eyelids, tie ‘em into a butterfly knot around that horn, and then take a big ‘ol bucket of brine and—” Bon Bon frowned. “Lyra…” “Seriously, though!” The unicorn gestured at the cringing mare standing in their doorway. “’She wasn’t going to use it?’ Does she think you’re stupid?” “No.” The changeling turned to look at Twilight, whose smile had now very emphatically left both “awkward” and “creepy” far behind and was beginning to make little exploratory twitches into “terrified.” “She thinks I’m dangerous. And we need to show her that she’s wrong. Come in, Miss Sparkle, and if it makes you feel safer, you can bring the faebane with you. Just keep the chase-discor—sorry, the Mage Starswirl’s Wort away from the soup, if you can. It’d ruin the flavor.” She considered. “Oh, and it’s poisonous to me and Aldrovanda over there, even in small amounts, so there’s that too.” She gestured back to the bathtub in their den, currently filled with water, a kelpie, and approximately one shellycoat’s-worth of attached detritus. Aldrovanda waved a junk-encrusted hoof and grinned, giving Twilight an excellent view of her gleaming fangs. The mare hesitated, peering past Lyra and Bon Bon at the darkling creature lounging within the house. For a moment it looked as though she might back away, but then she drew a deep breath, shrugged the saddlebag off her back, and stepped inside. “I guess if you can trust me enough to let me bring iron into your house, I can trust you enough to not bring it in. I’m sorry.” “Don’t worry about it,” said Bon Bon. “Hmph,” said Lyra. “Now that she’s defenseless, can I eat her? I’m hungry,” said Aldrovanda. ----- Kelpie notwithstanding, the rest of the evening actually proceeded much more smoothly than might have been expected, given the rocky beginning. Following Aldrovanda’s little contribution to the conversation, Twilight had decided that on the whole she really would prefer to bring her saddlebag and its contents inside, thanks. She relaxed her death grip on it not long after they had all settled themselves down around the table, though, and within half an hour she seemed quite comfortable, slurping soup as she peppered her Seelie host with questions about the Shee, the Unseelie Court, and Tír na nÓg. Somewhat to her surprise, Bon Bon found herself incapable of answering many of them. Their guest seemed to have a peculiar knack for intuiting the most obscure, arcane question she could possibly ask about the world of the Fae, and then immediately developing an intense, burning need to have it answered to the very finest detail. Still, she was at ease, and that was what mattered. Bon Bon had realized that after the events of the royal wedding, and the renewed interest in the Unseelie Court that it would no doubt bring, that it was really only a matter of time before somepony or other figured out what she was. Although having the Royal Sisters already aware of the situation was all well and good, she thought—and Lyra agreed—that having a more local ally would be no bad thing. So far, the changeling was really quite impressed with their guest. She was plainly just a little unhinged—hardly surprising given her magical ability—but all in all she seemed to be handling everything very well. It helped, Bon Bon supposed, that Aldrovanda had removed herself from view early on, curling up underwater to gnaw on the cat food innards of her messily disemboweled stuffed chicken. Other than occasional sloshing noises emanating from the bathtub and the unpleasantly pungent aroma of a decaying grayling—or half of one, anyway—entrained in the drifting tangles of her lank, weedy mane, Aldrovanda might as well not have been there at all. It helped even more, although neither changeling nor pony was aware of this, that between the two of them Lyra’s personality was far more volatile. When Bon Bon and Lyra had shown up at the Ponyville library one rainy afternoon, explained their situation to the shocked unicorn, and invited her over for a dinner where they could talk about it more and assuage her worries, Twilight had suspected that she was dealing with another parasite, feeding on Lyra just like the changeling queen had fed on her own brother. Despite Princess Celestia’s reassuring response to the quick letter she had dashed off, Twilight had arrived that evening half-expecting to see the same green, glowing Glamour-blight she had seen in Shining Armor glimmering out of Lyra’s eyes. Well. The unicorn mare was definitely protective of her marefriend, but it was obvious that there wasn’t the faintest speck of Unseelie magic clouding her mind. Mindless thralls did not get into loud, good-natured shouting matches with kelpies, or immerse themselves in—Twilight wasn’t sure what it was, actually. Amateur clockwork hoof-spider making?—and derail perfectly enthralling conversations about facultative bipedalism in subadult pucás for half an hour for the sake of demonstrating their latest invention. Nor would one expect, after the invention had gotten loose and started scuttling around the room like a demented pocketwatch on legs, for a mind-slave to chase down said invention and beat it into submission with a dog-eared copy of White Stockings’ Guide to Proper Pony Punning, bellowing “Death and artichokes!” and “By Celestia’s Beard!” the while. So both the parties of the first part and the party of the second part chatted and considered and explained and judged, and although Lyra didn’t budge from the protective position she had taken between their guest and Bon Bon, and Twilight continued to cast occasional nervous glances towards the lurking kelpie, on the whole all of those present found themselves beginning to feel almost comfortable with— And then there came a sudden string of harsh, staccato knocks at the door. All three mares started back. Bon Bon and Lyra edged closer together, Twilight laid a hoof on the saddlebag resting by her couch, and the two mares and their guest stared across the table at each other in strained, suspicious silence. Water splashed behind them as Aldrovanda reared up out of her ersatz pond, her tattered mane scattering rank droplets on the rags around her bathtub as she cackled gleefully. “The pure, untarnished trust you all have for one another is positively heartwarming. It truly is.” “Quiet,” hissed Bon Bon. “This isn’t…” She trailed off. “Yes?” The kelpie inclined her head politely. “Isn’t what?” The pale cream mare made no answer at first. Then, her voice grim despite its current high pitch, she turned to face the creature and demanded, “Who did you bring?” “Who did I—you think I know? Honestly, my dear little race traitor, I haven’t a clue what you, or maybe your charming guest, here, have been doing behind each other’s backs. Perhaps it’s a pack of ponies—“ She stopped, struck by the alliteration, and after a few moments of thought finished, “—porting pokers? Or a fleet of Fae, fanged and fierce? How could I possibly be expected to know?” She slid a slender tongue over her fangs. “Or wait, another thought occurs to me. I’m like that, you know, always thinking thoughts. You wouldn’t know what it’s like, I imagine, but—“ “Get on with it,” Bon Bon snapped. By this point Lyra and Twilight had turned too, staring at the smirking creature lounging in the corner. “Fine, fine.” The kelpie rolled her goatish eyes. “I just thought that since you’re here, the pony who saw through your queen’s disguise is here, and the pony who was able to shake off your queen’s glamour and bring down a buggane is here…” Another toothy grin. “…Well, I wouldn’t be at all surprised if you three had earned yourself a visit from someone very important. Royalty, even, perhaps. I suppose it’s possible I may have hunted down a certain mutual acquaintance of ours and…made arrangements.” “No,” whispered the changeling, her face white. “No! She was cast out!” “She’s baaa-aaack!” warbled Aldrovanda in a lilting, singsong voice. Another heavy blow struck the door, imperious and emphatic. Twilight clattered away from the table. “Back door? Is there a—“ “Nope.” Golden light swirled up Lyra’s horn as she drew a bent poker up from the hearth, her tail lashing back and forth. “You’d better get out that iron of yours, Spar—you brought a spoon?” “Three, actually, but yes. It was all I could find on short notice.” “It’s a spoon! What were you going to do, scoop your way to safety?” “If it’s made of iron or it’s got iron in it, it’ll help,” interposed Bon Bon. A burst of green flame swirled around her legs, blackening her hooves and pitting them with sharp-edged cavities, and she slunk over to the side of the den and clambered up the wall, crawling in unsteady stealth across the wooden planks towards the space directly above the front door. Her marefriend followed below, creeping over to one side of the door with her poker poised at the ready. Looking back, she gestured for Twilight, who was currently gawking at the changeling crawling across the ceiling, to join them. The being outside struck the door again. From behind them, Aldrovanda called, “Well, aren’t you going to answer it? This rudeness surprises me, Bon Bon. I thought you were more picky about that etiquette stuff.” The changeling scowled, then gestured to Twilight to lift the latch. She gave a little nod, took a deep breath, swung the door open— —And dropped her spoon with a gasp, her eyes wide in shock. For a moment nopony said anything, and then Twilight stammered out, “Princess Luna!?” The tall, graceful alicorn standing in the doorway, her dark mane swirling and glimmering around her, nodded assent. “Indeed.” She gazed down at the two ponies, Lyra with her poker still poised in mid-air and Twilight with her Spoon of Death, and her mouth twitched into a puzzled half-smile. “Had I known that a coup d’état was being planned for this evening, I believe I would have had my guards escort me to the door, rather than stay by the chariot. What means this?” Celestia’s student stepped forward. “Princess, I—“ “Wait!” Lyra hoisted the poker up into a striking position, her ears still flattened back against her head and her teeth gritted. “Wait. Bon Bon?” “No, it’s alright,” said a voice from somewhere over Luna’s head. The alicorn nearly brained herself on the lintel as she swung her head up to look at Bon Bon, clinging to the wall above the door like some surreal equine fly. “I don’t feel any Unseelie magic. It’s not Chrysalis. It’s Luna. She’s real.” The princess raised an eyebrow. “I confess I am ignorant of many modern customs, but I do not recall my sister telling me that ambush was considered a proper mode of greeting. Is aught amiss?” Scuttling down from the wall—or rather, scuttling halfway down and then losing her balance and flopping the rest of the way down like a Jacob’s Ladder—the changeling said, “No, but—I thought—we thought—“ She paused, struggling to drag her thoughts and her mouth into roughly the same place. After a moment she scowled, and hissed, “Kelpie.” Raising her head, the changeling glared across the room at Aldrovanda, who was leaning forward in her tub with her pebbly hooves resting on the rim and an enormous sharp-toothed grin plastered across her face. After emitting a sort of weak “hkk-kk-kk” noise the cluttered creature managed to gasp out “spoons,” and then collapsed forward, her body shaking with laughter. Twilight scowled. Lyra made a small choking noise and covered her mouth with her hoof, trying not to smile. “I take it she did not inform you that I wished to speak with you, then, and her naming of this date and time was done entirely without your consultation,” observed Luna, drily. Bon Bon stomped over towards the bathtub. “No she did not, and yes it was. Aldrovanda! You wretched—horrible—you told us that you’d summoned Chrysalis! You scared us to death!” “Chrysalis?” The kelpie lifted her head, her face a perfect picture of wide-eyed, innocent surprise. “Chrysalis? I merely suggested that your unexpected guest was both royal and recently returned from exile. And you thought I meant Chrysalis? What a peculiar notion.” “You knew full what you were hinting at. Don’t think I’m going to—“ She halted and looked back over her shoulder. “Oh, Lyra, sweetie, no! You know it’ll only encourage her.” “I’m—pffchle!—sorry! I can’t—tchrk—I can’t help—pfff—I—PftcHAHAHAHAHAA” The kelpie smirked. For a moment Bon Bon just stared at the scabrous creature, rifling through her brain for possible responses. Then, without really meaning to, she slumped back on her hindquarters and began to laugh. Maybe it was relief. Maybe it was sympathy with Lyra. It was not, she told herself, because there was anything remotely funny about the situation, and she was going to wring that thing’s neck for putting them through that. Just as soon as she was able to catch her breath. ----- Somehow it all worked out. Halfway through her fit of laughter Bon Bon realized (A.) that Princess Luna, even if technically uninvited, was still their guest and (B.) that everypony else had soup and she didn’t, and scurried off to the kitchen to get another bowl. When she got back Lyra had calmed down a little but was still chortling, while Twilight had just remembered that Luna was likely to have word of Shining Armor and Cadence, and was peppering the alicorn with questions about the newlyweds. This was doubly fortunate in that it took Twilight’s mind off of spoon-based mockery and prevented Luna from raining divine wrath on Aldrovanda. The kelpie herself was looking smug, not that that was exactly noteworthy. It was odd, really. Every moment, Bon Bon expected the good mood to turn sour and for somepony, kelpie, or alicorn to step on another’s hooves and send everything spiraling out of control, and yet it never quite happened. A nascent argument between Lyra and Twilight turned into a conversation about technomancy. Luna’s chastisement of Aldrovanda became a Q&A session on the habits of the Shee, and any further problems that might have been caused by the antagonistic creature were forestalled when, after about half an hour, she drowsed off at the bottom of her tub. Lyra’s mildly confrontational request that the princess explain how, exactly, things went so horribly wrong at the wedding ended up as a remarkably candid discussion of the royal sisters’ plans to counter the invasion, and where they failed and succeeded. A non-smiting Luna, a no-longer-suspicious Twilight, an unconscious Aldrovanda, and a happy, contented Lyra…strange how sometimes, somehow, things really did turn out well. The stars drifted along in the sky, clouds gathered and dissipated, and the night wore on. Eventually Twilight glanced up at the clock on the wall, started at the lateness of the hour, and said she’d better be off. At the door, she turned to Bon Bon (Lyra, having said a short farewell, was back in the den debating the merits of modern technology with the princess and trying to convince her that a difference engine, while much less portable than an abacus, was worth the trouble) and said, “I learned a lot tonight—about a lot of things. Would you and Lyra maybe like to come over for dinner sometime, at the library? Spike—he’s my assistant, he’s a dragon—I think he might like to talk to you. He’s always had some trouble figuring out how to be a dragon in a town filled with ponies, and it might help if he could talk to somepony—Oh, sorry.” Bon Bon rolled her eyes and smiled. “’Somepony’ is fine.” “Right.” The unicorn gave an awkward grin, and continued, “Somepony else who isn’t—well, who isn’t a pony.” “I’d have to ask Lyra, of course, but for my part, I’d be happy to. We’ll let you know. Goodnight, Miss Sparkle. Thank you for giving Lyra and me a chance; not all ponies would have.” With a somewhat sheepish smile, the lavender unicorn waved goodbye and trotted out the door. Princess Luna rose to her hooves. “Meet it is that I too make my farewells. Ere I take my leave, though, there are yet some matters that I would discuss.” She glanced over to the anteroom, where Twilight had stood a moment before. “She is not the only pony who owes both of you her life, though she knows it not. If there is aught that I or my sister may do in thanks for—“ Bon Bon walked over, shaking her head. “Thank you, your highness, but I think we’re good.” “Yeah,” added Lyra. “If you’d offered to shower us with wealth beyond our wildest dreams a few weeks ago, I’d ‘a told Bonnie here to let the nice alicorn dang well shower us with wealth beyond our wildest dreams, but…y’know, not so much, now. Only having to buy half as many groceries frees up a lot of bits, too.” The unicorn yawned. “Like she said, we’re good.” With an odd little half-smile, the princess said, “As you wish it. I must insist, though, on one token of appreciation. Nay, do not thank me; it is no great thing. It is, indeed, merely a matter of returning to you that which was already yours.” Cobalt-blue light swirled around the alicorn’s horn, and with an odd rushing rustle a bundle of fabric and straps unfolded itself out of nothingness in front of her, suspended in midair in a web of glittering magic. Her eyes wide, Lyra exclaimed. “My saddlebag!” Luna nodded. “Indeed. It was found shortly after the invasion by one of the city guards, along with a most singular list. Upon hearing of its existence and deducing its likely owner I took it upon myself to seek it out, and then, well—” Luna set her horn glowing again. A discolored scrap of paper and quill pen flickered into being. “—I confess I indulged myself and ran a few errands. The fifth task on the list had already been completed satisfactorily, but as the other purchased items had been ruined by rain and mold, it seemed the least I could do was to replace them.” Giving the brittle, tattered scrap of paper an officious little shake, the alicorn brought it up to reading distance and cleared her throat. There was an odd theatricality to the action, as if the simple act of reading from a list gave the princess a great deal of pride. It occurred to Bon Bon that, what with her royal status, Luna might not have ever had an opportunity or a reason to go shopping before. She remembered Nightmare Night, and was suddenly filled with deep sympathy for the merchants of Canterlot. Luna began reading. “Item the first: Sandpaper, coarse grade. Aye.” The saddlebag shifted, and a rough sheet of sandpaper rose halfway out, its rim shining with deep blue magic. Luna scratched “sandpaper” off the list with her quill. “Item the second: Lapis lazuli paint. Aye.” Scratch. “Item the third: Lyre strings. Aye. Item the fourth: Marsh mallow. Aye.” The quill dashed across the paper two more times, and then lay still. The princess looked up at Bon Bon. “Item the fifth: Warn Captain of Guard of imminent changeling invasion, thus saving all of Equestria from certain doom.” Luna smiled and scratched the words from the list. Lowering her head, she bowed to the changeling. “Aye. All that, and a great deal more.” The solemn silence that followed (or awkward silence, from Bon Bon’s perspective) lasted all of two seconds before Luna broke it by glancing back at the list and muttering, “Powdered sugar, Aye, almonds, Aye. ‘Faith, changeling, could you not have concluded your list with the world’s salvation? I possess, I hope, great personal dignity, but even I can do little with such an ending. Baking supplies make for a poor denouement.” “Um, it was at the end originally, but then I remembered I wanted to try a marzipan recipe. I didn’t see a point in wasting the paper.” “I suppose I cannot gainsay that.” The graceful star-maned creature gave her wings a shake. “Now, I must be off. My thanks to both of you for a most pleasant evening, an engrossing conversation, a fine dinner, and for saving the world.” The two mares followed Luna into the anteroom, and Lyra pushed the door open. “Honestly, the whole saving-the-world bit was kind of an accident. Mostly Bon Bon and I were just trying to save each other.” “May the stars have mercy on whatever poor creature next threatens one of you, then,” said Luna. She made as if to depart, but then stopped and turned back. In a hesitant voice, she continued, “There is one other matter, actually. Am I correct in understanding that you are not wed?” Bon Bon blinked in surprise. “Um, no. That is, yes. That is—no, no we’re not married. I mean, I guess maybe we will, someday, but the subject hasn’t really—we haven’t talked all that much about—“ “Which is kinda weird, really,” interrupted Lyra. “You’d think we would have gotten around to that by now. Whaddya say, Bon Bon? Wanna get hitched?” Bon Bon clapped a hoof over her face. “Lyra…” “Alright, alright. I got it. You’re not ready yet.” She raised a hoof to one side of her face and whispered theatrically to Luna, “She’s not ready yet.” “Well, now,” said the changeling, eyeing her marefriend, “I didn’t actually say no.” Lyra’s ears perked up. “I didn’t say yes, either. I just didn’t say no.” Down went the ears again. Luna, who had been watching this exchange with raised eyebrows and what might or might not have been a smile, said, “Well. In the happy event that such a proposal is accepted, I would like to make the two of you an offer. I confess that when first I learned of the nature of the bond between you, I did not understand that—I am from an older age, you must realize. I supposed that yours was, by definition, an entirely carnal—that there was no true depth of feeling—that—sinful—“ She halted, brow furrowed, and gave a frustrated snort. “Enough. I was wrong, and my past errors are hardly relevant. I simply wish to tell you that, should you be in need of an elder to preside over your wedding, I would be honored if you would permit me to fulfill that role. Nay, I will not have thanks. Nay. A good night to you both.” She smiled. “I believe I can promise that your sleep will be sound, and your dreams wholesome.” With a long, low bow of farewell, the dark alicorn departed, spreading her wings as she left the door and leaping up into the clear, starry sky. Warm, amber light flowed out of the open doorway, marking the outlines of Bon Bon and Lyra in sharp relief: Bon Bon, standing with her head raised and her gaze directed at the stars above, and Lyra sitting by the changeling’s side, her head resting against her marefriend’s shoulder. Perhaps a minute passed in silence. At length Lyra looked up. “Hey, Bon Bon.” “Mm?” “So, why didn’t you say yes? Are you just not ready? Was I not sappy enough? Too sappy? You don’t accept proposals on Thursdays?” The changeling peered down. “It’s Friday. And in what demented universe would ‘Whaddya say, Bon Bon? Wanna get hitched?’ be too sappy?” “I dunno. Just throwing it out there.” The unicorn nuzzled her marefriend’s shoulder. “But seriously.” With a chuckle, Bon Bon raised her head again, looking back up at the vast light-spangled arc of the Galaxy overhead. “For one thing, you did kind of put me on the spot. But to tell the truth—is this a serious ‘seriously,’ or a jokey ‘seriously?’” “Serious ‘seriously.’” “Hm.” After a moment, the changeling grinned, and said, “To hay with it. To tell the truth, if you asked me again now, I might just end up saying yes after all.” Lyra pulled back, staring at her in surprise. “Wait, really?” “Yes, really. The only thing holding me back, I think, would be one slight problem that needs to be fixed first.” “Name it.” The changeling raised a hoof and pointed back into the house at the bathtub where Aldrovanda was currently dozing. “I don’t accept proposals—or do anything remotely romantic—when there is even the slightest possibility that that ambulatory waterweed might show up and start snarking about it. Once she’s back in her swamp, then we can talk proposals and acceptances and engagements.” “Is that all? Awesome!” Lyra rose to her hooves. Golden light spiraled along her horn, and the poker that had been left by the door rose up into the air beside her. “That’s my next thirty minutes taken care of, then.” She leaned in and gave Bon Bon a quick nuzzle. “Stay beautiful, filly. To war!” The changeling mare watched as Lyra galloped inside, and then looked back up to the sky. She closed her eyes and shivered. There was an icy touch to the breeze blowing past that had nothing to do with cold. The sound of pipes drifted through the flowing air, whining and whistling melodies that no pony had ever heard, and that no pony ever would hear. For a moment Bon Bon glimpsed, or smelled, or heard, a great wolfish phantom, white-haired and lank-limbed, lumbering blindly and invisibly along a distant Ponyville byway that had been built atop a far older leyline. A sigh. She would never be rid of Faerie, no matter what. Not without some effort, Bon Bon forced herself away from the cloying, venomous pull of the Otherworld and struggled back to reality. All her life she would be fighting this battle. All her life she would be struggling against Discord’s Curse, a single Seelie Shee standing at the brink of a vast, hungry elder world writhing with demons. From somewhere back in the house Bon Bon heard a very large quantity of water moving very noisily, followed by the clang of metal striking stone and a hissed stream of insults in at least two different languages. There was a brief moment of silence, more invective and clanging, and then Lyra hollered, “Bonnie, could you come help me with this? She glued herself to the fireplace like last week! I think we’re gonna have to knock out another brick!” Bon Bon rose, shaking her head with a smile on her face as she trotted back into their comfortable, safe little cottage. There was iron and faebane in the world, true, along with the ringing echo of the Wild Hunt’s horns, the cruelties and whims of the Unseelie Court, the insistent tug of Tír na nÓg, and of course the kvetching of a certain kelpie. But there was also the scent of bread, the shine of copper, the light touch of cotton, and the warmth of Lyra’s love. She faced a lifelong struggle, maybe—but it was worth it.