//------------------------------// // The Night Before // Story: The Ninety-nine Nectars of Princess Luna; Or How Twilight Stopped Worrying and Learned to Love Her Wings // by NoeCarrier //------------------------------// Chapter One “The Night Before” It was just after midnight and Princess Celestia's private study was awash with the makings of a scheme. Her desk, polished over the ages to a deep black hue, groaned under the weight of numerous books and papers, each more bizarre and contradictory than the last. Larson's Illuminating Illusions sat spine to spine with The Sad Clown: One Thousand Ways to Laugh and Are You There, Celestia? It's Me, Star Swirl The Bearded. Dei Ex Sol was humming quietly, writing with four quills simultaneously. She had been sat like this for hours, her haunches parked on an enormous red velvet pouffe, unmoving except for her eyes, which darted back and forth between what she was reading and what she was writing. Just before the dawn, and all the royal duty that entailed, twelve envelopes appeared from out of a distant bureau, dancing through the air and lining themselves up in a neat row under the influence of Celestia's magic. Twelve neatly folded letters slipped into them, and then the envelopes were sealed with the precision of an army marching in parade. After a moment they all vanished, eleven being pulled into the mute gold aura of a magical teleport, the last engulfing itself in dragonfire. Celestia drew in a deep breath and closed her eyes. Dawn occurred. * Ponyville lay in ruins. The town hall burned high, crowned with eerie green flames. Unidentifiable debris and the mangled remains of ponies littered the muddy streets. Those houses that hadn't been demolished outright into glassy craters stood as skeletons. The screaming had stopped hours ago. Now there was only the silence of the dead and the low roar of a thousand fires running their terrible courses. Princess Twilight Sparkle was hiding under the round table on the ground floor of her library, waiting for the end to come. Spike was missing, and the Elements of Harmony along with him. Nopony had seen them for hours before the attack. There was no way she could get a message out to anypony. Changelings. How could we have been so foolish to think that they were gone? She'd been on the edge of town, returning from Zecora's hut in the Everfree Forest, when she'd witnessed the dark, insectoid shape of their Queen swoop low over Ponyville, thunderous blasts from her horn raking long furrows into the ground. Twilight had seen Applejack's farm simply cease to exist in those same torrents of fire. Sugarcube Corner was next, immolated like a moth in a blowtorch flame. Some tremendous explosion, likely the town's winter fuel supplies detonating, had blown Rainbow Dash's cloudhome away as though it had been nothing more than an idle imagining in the daydreams of a God. Suddenly, a blinding teal light filled the library. The smell of ozone and burning parchment filled the air, joined by a sound like the Goddesses themselves tearing phone books apart. When she looked up, Twilight saw that the place she'd called home for the past three years was gone. Standing with a hoof on the edge of the newly created tree stump was Queen Chrysalis. Her eyes glowed with an intense hatred and rage, her face a mask of agony and triumph. I'm supposed to be a Princess, Twilight thought, how could this have happened? “Vengeance is mine, Twilight Sparkle,” the Queen intoned in a voice dredged up from the depths of Tartarus itself. Her magic swelled and focused, then sprang forth from its immaterial domain and into the tortured world of the real. The beam annihilated what books remained scattered over the floor. The ring of the stump exploded in a shower of fragments as the water trapped in the cells of the tree turned to steam. Twilight felt them pierce her skin, heard herself scream. Then the death magic caught her. This is it, she thought, strangely calm. This is how it ends. It didn't. There was a timeless moment of nothingness. Where there should have been pain, some sensation of dying, there came the most peculiar of sounds. Surely, it couldn't be. It was Pinkie Pie, laughing. Twilight hadn't realised she'd screwed her eyes closed, and as she opened them, she heard the sound of a light switch clicking on. Around her was the library, unburned. Outside, a beautiful day bathed Ponyville in serene light. All her friends were there. They were staring at her, except Pinkie, who was rolling around in a fit of hysterics. A large banner had been strung across the back of the library. It had 'Happy Discovering Your Inherent Immortality Day, Twilight Sparkle' emblazoned on it in big purple letters. Princess Celestia stood in the middle of the group, wearing a teal wig. She was covered in smudgy black body paint and grinning in a way that Twilight found incredibly unsettling. “Gotcha,” she said. * “Twilight Sparkle! We must apologise for our sister!” Princess Luna begged, from the other side of Twilight's bedroom door. “She was trying to be funny! That never ends well!” “Just get lost! I don't want to see anypony right now!” “Twilight, may we remind you that we can teleport? We will speak, one way or the other.” “Fine,” Twilight sighed, unlocking the door. Shod In Silver walked in, her head bowed in penance. “But nopony else.” “Thank you,” Luna said, closing it behind her. “We truly beg your forgiveness, Twilight. We should have known our sister would do something like this. She doesn't really understand humour.” “You're damn right she doesn't! She made me see the most horrible things! Just to tell me I was immortal?” Twilight said, trotting about in furious little circles, her face contorted into a vicious scowl. “Gee, was a letter too passé? Maybe a memo? That book on being a princess I should read?!” “We understand--” “I don't think you do! I have no idea why any of my friends thought this would be a good idea. Bloody lot of collaborators!” “They didn't have a full understanding of what Celestia had in store for you.” “Oh, so all the screaming and running in fear and the giant death beam didn't give the game away?” “It was a very powerful illusion. Please, please understand. There was no malevolence intended here. She really did mean well. Her methods can just be a little...” “Insane? Terrifying? Completely tactless?” “Yes, all of those.” “Why did she think it was a good idea to have it run on for so long? She roped half the damn town into this abominable farce! She had the Cakes dress up like dead ponies!” “We did think that was a little too much.” “Where did you even get that much fake blood?” “We, uh,” Luna blushed and poked at the floor with a hoof. “It was we who provided the props and special effects.” “So all those Changelings...” “My faithful Night Guard, earning their keep for once.” Twilight shook her head and flopped down onto the bed. Luna kept a respectful distance, sitting beside it. “I'd have expected better from you, Princess Luna.” “Please, call us Lulu.” “What? Why?” Twilight glanced at the Princess in puzzlement. “All our sisters do.” The two shared a chaste hug. It was all Twilight could do to stop herself crying. Today had been a very long and emotional day. There was only one thing she could think of doing at a time like this. She opened the door of her bedside cabinet with a burst of magic. Several bottles floated out. “I think I could use a drink,” Twilight said, sighing. “You and us both, Twilight.” * Twilight was moping. It was almost nine in the evening, and from her vantage point in a nest of clouds drifting gently about the foothills of the mountain on which Canterlot stood, the lights of her Equestria glowed peacefully, as they always did. For her whole life she'd found this sort of view a close friend and only confidant. She would pour her fears and desires into the unspeaking vistas, and the Gods, Celestia, or the Universe would impart revelation and comfort in return. But now it only reminded her of the asphyxiating weight of responsibility that, for now at least, sat only metaphorically atop her head. At least Celestia hadn't insisted on her wearing the physical manifestation of the Element she represented. That was a small victory. Also on the cloud with her were an otherwise bizarre collection of items that only made sense in the context of Twilight Sparkle. Loquacious Legal Loopholes and You: A Fillies Guide sat propped up against a smooth metal canister bearing a number of alarming warning symbols. Another just like it levitated quietly within her magical orbit. She was taking sips from it, wincing slightly at each mouthful. It really was no use. Try as she might, no law in the land, nor law meant to govern time and space, could free her from the responsibilities and new destiny that Morning Star, She Who Raises, Rules In Stead, had foisted upon her. Not even the power of the tome sat before her, guaranteed to rescue the worst of sinners from their righteous fate at the hooves of a jury of their peers, had provided succour. And would she give it up, even if she had a way out? This was important. The most important thing that had ever happened to Twilight. Every accomplishment in her life from now on would be measured against it. Her dalliances with forbidden books were but a distraction, an effort to salve her mind whilst it came to grips with the inevitable. Celestia's little demonstration of her new immortality the previous day had all but cemented it. So that was, of course, why she was drinking aqua regia in a desperate attempt to get drunk enough to stop caring. “Why so glum, chum?” a deceptively honeyed voice said, seeming to extrude from the fabric of reality itself, instead of from any meaningful direction. Even though Discord had been free and 'reformed' for only a matter of weeks, she was already quite used to him appearing out of nowhere. It was a habit both he and Celestia shared, it seemed. “Crushing existential misery, the usual,” she replied off hoofedly, waving the cannister around. Drops of the highly potent acid spilled out of the mouth of its glass-lined receptacle. There was an angry hissing noise that lasted for but a moment as the mere tangible compound was defeated by her new magic and prevented from doing more than fry a few hairs. “Oh, I feel for you. Joining the immortals club is always hard.” Discord materialized out of the fluffy cloud and sat down beside her in a remarkably close approximation of the lotus position. “Why, I remember the last time. Celestia cried for weeks. She cried so hard she willed her sister into the world so she would never be alone. Then they staged a war against me. Grief does funny things to ponies. Oh, and I heard about Celestia’s jape. I couldn’t have thought of a better prank myself. Sounds like she’s been taking notes!” “What do you do to get drunk?” Twilight asked, ignoring him. “I mean really, properly drunk. Luna and I downed four bottles of Miss Punch's Extremely Unusual yesterday evening, and we just got a bit rowdy.” “Drinking with royalty?” he exclaimed, in faux surprise. “How scandalous!” “I'm serious, you mockery of life.” “There's no need for hurtful barbs.” “Just spill the beans; how do I get wasted?” Discord began laughing and immediately turned into a miniature avalanche of beans, each with his annoying smile and draconequine features. “Everyone knows that immortals aren’t affected by regular drink or drugs,” he giggled. “But why don’t you just ask the Lunar Nag about it?” “What's Lulu got to do with this?” The mischievous spirit recombined in an instant and gave Twilight a look she had never seen before. Genuine surprise. A moment later he broke out in hysterics. “Lulu!” he managed to gasp between choking breaths. “You call her 'Lulu'!” “Oh fie on you,” the Dusk Princess muttered, rolling her eyes. “I'll just ask her myself.” There was a bright flash and Twilight teleported away, leaving the humour-crippled snake god to his own devices. * The lavender alicorn appeared without particular fanfare in the Selenite Compound of the Royal Palace. Since her return, Princess Luna had taken over a third of the interior spaces and altered them to suit her will. Gone were the neat, expansive corridors of antiquity that her sister preferred. In their stead was a wholly alien landscape, built from obsidian as black as her beloved night. It curved and contorted, like the flesh of a great lunar beast flash frozen into obedience, and at its centre was the geode that composed the Selenite Court. Light misbehaved within its confines, taking on a physical edge that could be at one moment cloying and overwhelming, and in other be as sharp and crisp as a winter's morning. This was, of course, at odds with the incredibly casual nature of the actual running of her little empire-within-an-empire. Luna eschewed the big, traditional throne of her sibling, instead choosing to layer the mirror-smooth floor of the Selenite Court with an innumerable array of large pillows and other comfortable objects. It more often resembled an opium den than the place where absolute power was exercised across the nation during its nights, complete even with tall hookah pipes covered in ornate silver inlay dotted about the hedonistic interior. It was an obvious idea, in retrospect, to ask the Princess of the Night about the best ways to intoxicate one's self. Part of her aspect was the Hidden Delight, a metaphysical domain containing every joy it was possible for a pony to experience beneath the cloak of the evening. Queen of Tides she was, but likewise Queen of Forbidden Lust, and Overindulgence, and much more besides. Just to gain audience with her was a test of chemical endurance in as of itself, for no mare or stallion could address the ruler without first having braved the many rings of lewd debauchery and drug abuse surrounding her place at the centre. After all, her courtiers were not called 'Lunatics' for reasons of thematics alone.   Twilight decided to exercise the royal prerogative and took to her wings to clear the roiling, intoxicated, loving crowd, most of whom had already forgotten why exactly they had come to beg a moment of regal time in favour of the nape of some blushing mare. After yesterday's paltry session with Luna, she'd convinced the Princess of the Night to show her a little of the ways of flight. It was, against all expectations, far easier than anypony had made out, especially Rainbow Dash. She'd already mastered graceful, glide-assisted bounds. That was all it took for now, and after a fluid moment in the air--during which she saw things no young filly should have to see, at least not outside the confines of her imagination--she alighted beside Princess Luna's futon “--and so we said to the policestallion, 'We do not need a license for this combine harvester, for we are Nightmare Moon!” The royal had just finished telling a joke of clearly excellent calibre, as the little gaggle of attendant ponies and petitioners all began giggling. “Which is why, unfortunately, we have to decline your request for payment of back taxes owed on our properties. We are sorry, Sudden Audit, but those assets were seized by our sister, and therefore you should take up any issues with her.” A dusty coloured mare wearing only part of a business suit gave a low, exaggerated bow of her head, grinning the whole time. Then she staggered to her hooves and carefully began to make her way toward the distant exit, wobbling precariously the whole time. Twilight fought the urge to raise an eyebrow. Such things were to be expected in the Selenite Court. The rumour mill held that any foal conceived during a session of the Court would be greatly blessed by the Goddess. This was an old legend, with its genesis in the time before Luna's descent into madness, one which had been rapidly revived by parties unknown. Twilight suspected none other than Luna herself. “Good evening, Princess,” she began. “Might I borrow a bit of your time?” “Come now, Twilight Sparkle, we told you to call us Lulu,” the Triarch replied, smiling warmly. “Prithee, tell us what is on your mind.” “Of course,” Twilight replied. The other petitioners began to move away, giving them space to talk. In any case, they had plenty of distractions to attend to, not least of all each other. She decided to be blunt. “What I want to know is how immortals can get drunk.” “Was yesterday evening not enough? Why, we put away enough libation to floor a stable of horses!” “To be honest, Lulu, it was like I’d been sipping shandy.” “Well, yes, of course. We are immune,” she said sagely. “Ah, but it’s been such a long time since we brewed the Nectars.” “What?” “Our Nectars, Twilight Sparkle, numbered ninety-nine. Drinks of great strength they are. Much solace did they provide us in our first years of exile.” “Oh, great! Can I have some?” “Alas, fair sister, such forbidden liquors have not seen the night for twenty generations.” “So you don't just happen to have some on hoof, as it were?” “If only the laws of the land could be so kind to us. No, our sister prohibited them, all ninety-nine, on the grounds of public safety and common decency.” “Common decency? I see. Surely we could make a drop or two. Nopony would have to know.” “We share your desires, but it is impossible. Celestia would have us back on the moon, for that thing we once were, that you called Nightmare, was so fond of it. It was her icon. The Night's Guard still tell tales of those admixtures.” Twilight sighed and her head dropped. Of course, it wasn't going to be that easy. Luna seemed unperturbed, and drew up a familiar looking bottle with her magic. “How about a spot of Old Extremely Unusual?” The demi-God rolled her eyes and wove the spell that would teleport her home. * Spike was shelving books when she arrived. With her recent preoccupation his workload had multiplied exponentially, especially with the influx of beggars after knowledge seeking to understand what had happened to Twilight. They had been forced to order twenty extra copies of Everything You Wanted to Know About Alicorns But Were Too Afraid to Ask just to keep up with demand. More disturbing was the similar rise in popularity of those vulgar bit-dreadfuls featuring the Princesses and various unlikely romantic partners. Wings of Lust and its best selling, though unimaginatively titled sequel, Horns of Lust, had never been more widely circulated other than at the time of their original printing. Much to the dismay of her internal cynic, the first thing Twilight did was scan the catalogue for books that might help her cause. This was her go-to option, especially on matters the Princesses thought she shouldn't know about. Scholarly discourse on the Lunar Nectars was scant. They were occasionally mentioned or referenced in books the mainstream considered apocrypha, but that was it. The most vivid and forthright accounts were to be found in the black pages of Night Guard captain’s biographies, though they spoke only to the many properties attributed to these beverages. Apparently a single drop in a thousand gallons of water was still powerful enough to illicit a six day intoxication in the average pony. During her High Equinox parties, Luna was reported to down buckets of the stuff. Several rebellions, six assassinations, two wars and one incident wherein Canterlot was burnt to the ground were laid at the hooves of the Nectars. None of this shed any light on how the Nectars might have been made, besides a particularly lurid description of the synthesis of Nectar seventy-nine, which had required the 'scream of a maiden, bottled' and 'the sounds of old lust made new, tinctured', whatever that meant. Old texts were never particularly revealing, seeming to concern themselves more with the poetry of a situation than hard facts. What Twilight wouldn't have given for a Star Swirl style dissection of the topic. But she had read, religiously, every text that ancient mage had ever so much as scribbled on with genius intent, and she knew that he had never spoken of the Nectars. Which seemed very odd. Star Swirl the Bearded, like his many predecessors, had always been a remarkably candid stallion. Besides his scientific contributions, his social commentaries and private diaries overflowed with detail on his personal life. Most of the modern understanding of Star Swirl's time in terms of culture had been derived from his records. And he had passed within a hundred years of Luna's betrayal. The glaring omission irked her. Deliberate censorship always did. After ponies who didn't use bookmarks, and ignorance of the Derpy decimal system, it was her least favourite thing. Twilight briefly considered writing a letter to Princess Celestia, but recent events had left her more than a little reticent to want to talk to the pony she’d once considered an unshakable mentor figure. She retired to bed under a cloud of grim disaffection. * “So you're telling me you can't get drunk no matter how much you drink?” Pinkie said, for the third time. Twilight was taking breakfast at Sugarcube Corner, amidst much in the way of strange looks and hushed chatter. “That would be the thing of it,” she replied, half-heartedly picking apart a cinnamon confection with her magic and popping small pieces of it into her mouth. It wasn't doing much for her mood. “Oh no! How awful!” Pinkie said, ears drooping. If it had been anypony else Twilight would have assumed some sort of deep sarcasm. As it was the Element of Laughter, she knew it could be nothing but a genuine sentiment. Either she rejected negative emotions, or lacked the emotional maturity to express them. Probably a little from both columns. “You have no idea, Pinkie.” “I think I do! This is just like that one time where my doctor said 'Miss Pie, if you keep drinking like you do you'll destroy your liver', but I kept doing it anyway, and now I can't drink any more either.” “You're teetotal?” Twilight was surprised. The party mare seemed like she'd be the one pony in her life to maintain steady consumption of strong liquor. That and sugar. “Yup!” She beamed, showing off a toothy grin. “Isn't that great?” “Well, if you say so. You learn something new every day.” Pinkie Pie immediately bounded off, her attention drawn to a group of foals who had just wandered in. She began to perform her usual routine of improbable acrobatics. Twilight sighed into her coffee. It wasn't too much of a logical leap to think that Pinkie was, in fact, in the last stages of Korsakoff's psychosis, having subsisted on a diet of cakes and alcohol for far too long. Certainly her bizarre fantasies and delusions supported such a hypothesis. Twilight glanced around at the rest of the café patrons. It was the usual morning crowd, mostly those self-employed early risers who'd been up before dawn finally taking a break. One notable exception was Berry Punch, Ponyville's enfant terrible prior to Twilight's apotheosis. She was wearing a pair of dark sunglasses and was nursing an inordinately large mug of Mrs Cake's high strength coffee. An idea emerged, and Twilight rose up off her haunches and sidled over to the vinter turned alcohol magnate. “Late night?” she said. “Oh!” the claret-coloured mare jerked upright, snapping out of some hangover trance. “Twilight. I didn't see you there.” “That's quite a feat,” she remarked dryly, fluttering her wings. “Hah, yes, it was a bit of a crazy one. We just launched a new range of, well...actually, you probably know about them already. Officially licensed Twilight Sparkle Alicorn spirits.” “Really?” Twilight stifled a laugh. The free market certainly had its surprises. “Yes, they're proving really popular.” “And what kind of booze bears my name?” “Oh, everything really. Most of it's just our old label sugar molasses stuff with purple food colouring. You don't know about it then?” “I can't say I do. Though it's not like I've been paying attention. Heh. Next they'll be making action figures.” “They do.” She blushed slightly. “My little filly Riesling has one. It's, uh, a good likeness.” Twilight didn't quite know what to make of this, so she changed the subject. Certainly whoever controlled her image rights would be receiving a stern talking to at some point. Nopony had even sent her a royalty cheque. “Tell me, Miss Punch, have you ever heard of the Ninety-nine Nectars of Princess Luna?” Berry Punch immediately adopted an expression that in other circumstances might have meant Twilight had just pulled a knife on her. After a long moment frozen in place, she shook her head and stood up, making to leave. “Absolutely not, those were banned,” she muttered, retrieving a pen that she'd stashed behind her ear and putting it in her mouth. She picked up a napkin and wrote on it, then passed it to Twilight. “As a pillar of the community, law abiding citizen and honest, upstanding mare of society, I have no truck with such things. Good afternoon, Miss Sparkle.” As she left, Twilight studied the note on the napkin. 12 NOON. PUNCH DRUNK DISTILLERY. COME ALONE. Twilight smiled to herself, and carried on drinking her coffee. * The factory that Berry Punch owned was a rather imposing edifice. Located just outside Ponyville, near the Everfree Forest, it was the town's one concession to the creep of industrialisation that had been a common theme in Equestria of late. Twilight remembered the land it occupied as the selfsame place she had greeted Celestia, following the disastrous parasprite infestation. As rapidly as a pony could change, it seemed, so the world around her could too. Four broad pillars arranged in a rectangle formed its corners, holding up three stories of red brick fascia, carrying on its front a huge neon bunch of grapes that also served as the trademark of the business. On any normal weekday dozens of workers would have been milling in and out, but as it was a weekend the carriage park was empty. With the big front doors barred and the main gates chained, all that remained open was a single side entrance, so Twilight let herself in. The interior of the factory was cool, though the air didn't move and it took the lavender mare a few moments to realise that it was employing a magical environment system, one of several new arcane innovations that Luna's return to the world had brought. It was now far easier for objects to hold chilling enchantments, so their use had become more widespread. It didn't take long for Twilight to find the centre of the factory. The door she had used was the employee entrance, and after negotiating a usefully signposted maze of narrow corridors filled with various pipes and conduits, she came out into the bottling hall. Big, steam powered machines crouched over blood vessels of conveyor belts, and her hooves made a clattering sound across the smooth, tiled floor. The faint smell of alcohol and summer fruits hid behind the chemical tang of disinfectants. In the middle of it all Berry Punch was head and forehooves inside one of the contraptions, doing something in the depths of an exposed maintenance cavity. “Miss Punch?” Twilight said. The booze magnate turned around and immediately dropped back down onto all fours. She peered behind the Dusk Princess suspiciously. “Tell me what the Nectars mean to you,” Punch replied bluntly. “I just want to get drunk, so if you kn--” “Bah!” She interrupted Twilight with a dismissive flick of her head. “That's just what they do, to us mortals and you immortals alike. I asked you what they meant to you.” “A return to my usual alcoholic tendencies, a method of self-medicating away existential strife, social lubricant, what else could they possibly mean? Normal booze doesn't work on me any more.” “Twilight, the Nectars are divine. I don't mean that they taste good. I mean they are literally divine. Pure, distilled and wrought by the hooves of a Goddess. There are two things you should know about me. Despite the low brow productions of this house.” She gestured around the bottling hall with a hoof. “I am an artist at heart. It should always be the goal of an artist to reach the pinnacle of her art. Don't you agree?” Twilight was not an artist. Of course, she knew about art, and the great many famous musicians, painters and the like that had appeared throughout history. Ignorance did not seem the way to go with this mare, however, and if she was ever to obtain a drop of these Nectars she'd have to improvise. “Certainly,” she nodded, then ventured; “So the Nectars represent the peak of your art, that is to say, getting ponies drunk.” “Yes, exactly. The second thing is that I am very pious. As much as the Goddesses discourage our faith, that is only in their nature, as benevolent extensions of the will of the Universe. They know in their hearts that they are worth our adoration. So you can understand that for somepony such as myself, these drinks are sacraments.” Berry Punch's eyes were glittering with a kind of rabid devotion Twilight had never seen before. Even when Rarity went on long rambles about how much she adored fashion, it was more an engrossing hobby than this. Whatever was going on with the vintner, it was bordering on insanity. Twilight began to wonder which was more true; whether she was in too deep or exactly where she needed to be. “I promise to respect them.” She nodded and flapped her wings for effect. “I give you my word as, uh, a Goddess.” “Strong magic and new wings do not a divine make. Nor does your crown.” “Tiara. It's a tiara.” Berry Punch rolled her eyes and tugged a neatly furled scroll the size of a pegasus pinion feather from out her mane. She offered it to Twilight, who took it from her mouth in a purple aura. “I have never attempted to brew this mixture. It is, unfortunately, illegal.” “Which of the Nectars is it?” “Number one, of course. It took me eight years to put together that list of ingredients. I must've slept my way through half the Night Guard, and made rich the other half with bribes or gifts of my own paltry contributions to the world of alcoholic delights.” “You?” Twilight raised an eyebrow, half in surprise and shock. “I didn't think you'd be into, well, what I mean is--” “You didn't think I'd be into stallions?” “Bat ponies.” “Oh come now, don't be so bigoted. You know they hate that term. And anyway, why do you think my little Riesling only comes out at night?” Berry Punch had succeeded in making Twilight blush profusely, and left her standing in the bottling hall, pausing only to say; “Do let me know how you get on, Princess.” * Dear Princess Twilight Sparkle, I trust this message finds you well. My sister tells me that you found my jest in poor taste. I apologise on behalf of the nation if this is the case. Please find enclosed a full report on the nature of alicorns, as far as we understand them. I hope that your nature as a researcher and scientist will speed us on the discovery of any errors...  Twilight finished the letter. She went through the disappointingly scant attached notes. She read them again. After a few minutes staring at a particular line in the section on 'divine biology', Twilight put down the hoof-written book and began staring out into space. Somewhere in the cluttered recesses of her mind, something important went clang * “Darling, I simply don't understand why we're doing this,” Rarity said, as she and Twilight wandered along one of the many gravel paths that skirted the Everfree Forest. “You know as my dear friend I'd follow you to Tartarus and back, but I don't see how I can possibly help with this task.” “It's just as I told you, Rarity. I need your expert gem finding skills.” “But I taught you that spell.” “Sure, but what I'm after is a bit special. I needed a professional.” “But you know how I feel about caves!” “This is a salt mine.” “Oh, it's the same thing!” Twilight felt the urge to begin lecturing rise in her gut, but decided that a little regal diplomacy might go a long way. She laid a wing gently over Rarity's shoulder and petted her, something she'd received from Celestia on numerous occasions. “We'll be out of there quickly, Rarity. And I really do need you. This is important.” “Friendship report important?” “You could say Princess Luna practically demanded it of me.” This wasn't strictly speaking untrue. By prohibiting something ancient and mysterious to Twilight, Luna had issued an unspoken intellectual challenge to her subconscious. This was now more than just getting drunk. She would make the Nectars again. Even if it did require an unsettlingly large amount of a material Berry Punch's notes assured her could be somehow extracted from pitchblende. Amongst other things. “Oh. Well, in that case, we have a duty, don't we?” “Even I can't refuse her, Rarity. Come on, we're almost there.” * The Helian Court had reached its zenith, both figuratively and literally. Celestia's boiling orb rose high over the broad chamber where she saw her petitioners, casting light down through special glass prisms. As it was now noon, they spread rainbow patterns across the floor, where etched marks counted time. Those new to the court gasped as they appeared, though her courtiers and Celestia herself had seen the sight too many times for it to still be interesting. Just as the Duchess of West Wingshade was bringing her annoyingly arrogant proposal for dealing with the homeless in her duchy to a close, the Princess of the Night stormed into the court, a look of vengeful wroth on her face. This didn't phase Celestia either. 'Vengeful and full of wroth' described her sister very well whenever anypony woke her during the day, which they obviously had. She merely raised an eyebrow and waited. Everypony else in attendance, however, either froze with terror or prostrated themselves. They were dwellers of the Helian and clearly never ventured into her subterranean realms, otherwise they would have known what a kitten her sister truly was. Luna began shouting in Old High Equuish. Celestia was glad that no scholars of linguistics were present, as they would have been both simultaneously terrified and deeply offended. The grasp the Queen of Tides had on expletives bordered on art. Her ranting would also have undermined a hundred years of thaumatological and theological thinking. If Whinny the Elder had still been alive, the poor stallion would have thrown a shoe.  “Are you quite done?” Celestia said, standing up in her throne. With the golden seat back contrasting against the pure gleam of her coat, she seemed to radiate an aura of authority. “Your insensitivity harries us again, sister!” “What now?” “You have impelled our newest family member down the path of fools!” “I'm not sure I follow.” “Twilight Sparkle came to us some nights past and asked us of our Nectars!” “So? You didn't tell her about them did you?” “Nay, sister, for we are possessed of tact! But now she is nowhere to be found--and an Element is missing with her!” “Why is this my fault?” “Clearly you have said some dire thing in a moment of unthinking, as you always do! Why else would she seek the drinks we drink to forget?” “My last missive to her was quite comprehensive. I told her everything she needed to know, everything that we understand about our particular condition. I made sure to mention that we could not foal.” Luna began swearing in Old High Equuish again. Celestia smiled, but so slightly that only somepony who was looking at her very closely would have noticed. Had they done, they might well have thought it the same sort of smile found on the face of a gardener who has just found the first green shoots of a fledgling crop poking their way up through fertile earth. * The Night Guard were singing. They always did this whenever Luna left the confines of her tower. Celestia levitated pillows around her head in a broad orbit, wondering when they might finally tire of such things. In a way, it was quite nostalgic. They only ever got drunk and sang their special songs on nights when the Queen of Tides was absent; that had been every night for the past thousand years. But just as she was getting used to the peace and quiet, Luna had taken her leave of the castle in search of Twilight Sparkle, and so tradition demanded they return to their old ways. Celestia automatically deciphered the lyrics of their song, sung in a language not too far removed from Modern Equuish. It was a new one on her. Apparently there was a unicorn called Ennis, who had a very small horn, but made up for it with other aspects of his anatomy. The Solar Goddess untangled herself from the silk wrapped duvet and trotted over to the big balcony that led out of her bedroom. The party below her was in full swing. Trestle tables had been laid out in the courtyard and every single member of the Night Guard was in attendance. Their peculiar leathery wings flapped in the warm midnight air, collectively sending up a wind scented with the fragrances of their merrymaking. Certainly they lived up to the ethos their patron set down. Queen of Overindulgences indeed… it would only take a spark to set them to their carnal ways, for how else would new bat winged ponies come into the world? Celestia often envied her sister. The night certainly held some wonderful aspects. Her ponies would work and strive during the day, daring themselves to be better, but only at night would they expose their loving, lusting natures. Few ponies were ever conceived during the daytime hours. It wasn't a well known fact, but they were all, to a pony, born of lust, and in many cases, too much liquor. Soli Deo flexed her alabaster wings and sighed. Of the many magical and temporal powers she had available to her, being able to join in their carousing was not one. Not that anypony would ever object to the act; the need for her to get out more was a common topic of private conversation amongst her courtiers. No, if she were to jump from her high perch and glide down to the revelry, it would kill the entire mood. Ponies expected things from the Ordered God. Primness, proper behavior, a certain typical way of being. They'd certainly stop singing their lovely songs about fornicating and drinking too much. They might even start singing the national anthem, or one of those ghastly Solar Cult religious songs. There was a sudden delighted gasp from below, audible above the babble, and Celestia smiled. It would appear the spark had been found. * Ig Neous was a simple pony. For his entire life he had lived only in the world of mining, and all things to do with rocks. His father was a miner. His mother was a miner. His brothers and sisters were geological surveyors, prospectors, and on the weekends, miners. Ever since he'd been a minor, he'd been a miner. So when the newly crowned Dusk Princess had walked into his mineshaft, a definite look of malice aforethought on her lavender face, he'd naturally been at a loss for words. But now he was mining, and that was something he understood, even if he didn't understand why, or what the triarch was looking for down here. She wasn't after the halite, that was for sure. If she had been, there were tons of it freshly mined that didn't require his efforts to obtain, but orders were orders. He understood that too. Not to mention the lovely sight of the Princess' companion, who, despite the grimace, was a walking poem on the subject of beauty. Suddenly the metal drill bit Neous was manipulating with his strong but simple magic broke through into a cavity. Inside was a strange looking black crystal jutting out of a slab of the type of rock he was named for. He'd never seen this kind of mineral before, but the odd look in the eyes of the Princess told him this was exactly what she was after. For reasons he could not put his hoof on, a strange tingle ran down his spine. * Luna found Rarity at the very trailing edge of the Everfree Forest, where it finally gave in to the alkaline flats that ran almost all the way to the Roarke mountains and the Dauphine sea beyond. It was clear she had been wandering in the noon sun for quite some time. Her lips were cracked and dry, and beneath her fur the skin had begun to burn. As the Moon Goddess descended from altitude, she saw that the Element of Generosity was trailing part of a cactus behind her with her magic. It was almost as large as she was, and obviously far too heavy to lift off the ground; a shallow rut of disturbed sand and rock vanished off across the horizon in testament to the distance that Rarity had travelled. “Well met, Rarity!” she called out as she landed. The white mare ignored her and continued onwards, apparently aiming for the thicker treeline up ahead. “Rarity? What business are you conducting in this most harsh of places?” This garnered a response, finally. Rarity turned her head and smiled in a drunken sort of way. Her eyes were unfocused, with one pupil widely dilated whilst the other was a barely visible pinprick. “Isn't this stallion simply marvelous?” she said, her voice raspy, but still lilting with her usual cheery inflection. The cactus shuddered slightly as it stopped, oozing green sap from the dozens of wounds in its flesh. “Twilight gave him to me. We're going to Canterlot to be married.” Luna's heart began to race. She had been hoping against hope that things had not yet progressed this far. But the truth was undeniable. It had begun. *  “Ah jes' don't understand, Princess,” Applejack said, tugging absentmindedly at her Stetson and massaging her left temple with a hoof. “Why would Twilight do such a thing? It jes' ain't in her nature to hurt one of her friends like this!” Luna had returned Rarity to Ponyville as fast as her wings and magic would carry her, which was about mach four. Fortunately these townsponies are enamored with their local superheroes.  They won’t care much about all the broken windows. Undoubtedly dear Sister will be asking some pointed questions when the invoices arrive, though. The other Elements were now gathered in the foyer of the Carousel Boutique, waiting as Nurse Redheart and her colleagues attended to Rarity. “'Tis all too true,” Luna replied, sagely. “A certain sort of madness, it seems, has overtaken her.” “Like that time she, um, mind controlled everypony because she didn't have anything to write to Princess Celestia about?” Fluttershy asked, draped over a cream-colored ponyquin like a depressed blanket. “Yes, though this is far worse.” Luna grumbled. One of Celestia's many names was Queen of Plots. That particular incident was a result of her careful machinations, which had gone as far as moving the planet in a jerky, clock-like fashion at the height of Twilight's mania. The sheer amount of magic expended to prevent Equestria ripping itself apart under the additional inertia was beyond her accounting. For a pony many considered the height of benevolence, her methods were often extreme, to say the least. “Why did Rarity think that cactus was a stallion?” Pinkie Pie asked, a picture of melancholy. All Twilight's friends were down, though with her it was more visibly pronounced. She seemed to radiate it.    “I bet Discord had something to do with this! I knew he was lying!” Rainbow Dash interjected. She was perched on a light fitting, apparently not wishing to abandon the high ground even when indoors. It swung with the force of her righteous indignation. “I'm afraid not, rainbow horse,” the light bulb said. Dash screamed in horror and sprang away, almost putting a hole in the opposite wall. Luna looked up at the source of the noise and saw that the light bulb had grown a fang and a pair of googly yellow eyes. “He tells the wholesome of it and nothing else,” the Princess agreed. Discord's magic had a certain greasy smell to it, and anyway, she knew what this was. “No, we are sad to say that it is  we who shoulders blame in this regard.” Everyone gasped in surprise. If they hadn't been looking at Luna to provide them with answers, they certainly were now. She felt herself dip her head and blush, pawing at the ground with a hoof. The sound her silver shoe made on the floor was stark amidst the awkward silence. “Twilight has not been adapting very well, it seems, to her coronation,” Luna said, trying to work out if the faces looking back at her were those of fear or anger. “She came to us with a question, but we did not see the subtext, and told her of a thing she should not have known about. We hoped that it would not have come this far, but alas, it has.” “Jes' what did you tell her?” “We will not repeat our mistake.” “We have a right t'know!” Applejack shouted, then added, sotte voce, “Yer Highness.” Luna felt her wings unfurl, and was about to put the insolent apple farmer back in her proper place. Then, realising that the earth pony was right, the fight went out of her. “We concede the point. Very well, we will tell you of our Nectars.” The light bulb Discord was occupying began to melt, and dripped down onto the floor into a viscous mold that immediately began to take on a draconequine form. “Oh goody,” he said, grinning. “I love this story.” * It was only when the giant lunar squid soundlessly broke the surface of the mare Imbrium in a spray of glittering particles and began its slow motion dive toward her that Twilight remembered how little war magic she actually knew. Thankfully the reduced gravity meant she had plenty of time to teleport away, placing herself further along the northern 'shore' of the mare. The second ingredient was proving trickier than the first. That had just been a case of some hard work, the liberal application of the remaining aqua regia and a helping hoof from Rarity. A quick magical centrifuge spell later, and the resulting dull gray metal was sitting in her saddlebags. In all her years of obsessive study and exploration of the world, she’d never come across anything quite like it. Had she done she’d probably have rapidly dismissed it as being without use, except for perhaps as a paperweight. Rarity, rather predictably, had fallen in love with it, polishing it to a luster that lasted for a few minutes before tarnishing. She'd gone on at length about how it would 'encapsulate the fleeting nature of true beauty' or some such other nonsense, before filling her bags with pitchblende and trotting off home. The giant squid landed on the spot she'd previously been occupying, its eight massive tentacles splayed out like an exploding concertina. Why, exactly, a selenite creature would consider her a prey object was quite beyond her understanding. Perhaps Nightmare Moon had taken to feeding those who displeased her to them. The selenite ecosystem was a product of her imagining, after all. Twilight glanced over at the horizon, where the black peak of her abandoned fortress merged seamlessly with the void of space, visible only in an outline picked out in shards of platinum and silver. Who knows what other eldritch abominations are out here? Twilight crouched low against the shore line and wove a simple illusion spell that made her coat appear the color of the lunar regolith. Equestrian squid hunted by eyesight alone, lurking beneath their prey and watching for their shadows as they occluded the light from the surface. If these creatures were anything alike, it would be enough to fool it. When she'd arrived, Twilight had half expected the sound of waves lapping against the shore to greet her. Of course, the mare Imbrium was not a sea in any traditional sense; where there had once been flat plains of dark volcanic rock, the touch of the Nightmare had wrought deep seas of fine silicates, oceans of sand which she had then populated with a whole array of bizarre fauna and flora. Twilight dipped a hoof into the sand. It clung to her like glue, but as she drew away from it the structure collapsed and sank back, leaving a trail of shimmers. She frowned. There was a great deal of magic at work here, for she was sure no such material could exist naturally. She had often wondered how Nightmare Moon had survived for so long. Now she knew. Luna had simply created her own environment in which to live. Twilight suspected most of it was for aesthetic purposes. The alicorn form certainly wouldn't leave itself open to the vulnerabilities of oxygen and temperature. Experimentally, she dropped the force field around her body. Sure enough, besides the long wisps of water vapour coiling away from her flanks as sweat flash boiled, and an icy cold that reminded her of not more than a brisk autumn morning just before dawn, nothing happened. The giant squid was now slinking back into the sand from whence it came. The second ingredient was its left eye. Twilight picked out a mental image from an old book she'd once read and began to forge something, plucking up a few moon rocks to supply the mass. Soon she recalled a name for the arcane device. Harpoon. * Shod In Gold stood on the balcony of her tower and counted down the seconds before dawn. It was something she barely needed to think about. It wasn't as though she could actually have stopped herself. The Universal Treason of the Nightmare aside, Celestia could no more fail to raise the sun, than the sun itself could suddenly cease to burn. Her divine heart fluttered with apprehension nonetheless. In another section of her mind, quite aside from the part dealing with the orchestrations of the heavenly bodies, the gilded wheels of her many schemes were steadily turning. A thousand years of rule had impressed into Celestia a fundamental understanding of the behavior of her charges. She knew exactly how they worked, what they thought and why they thought it. So it was of no particular difficulty to arrange reality in certain innocuous ways so that it behaved as she willed without anypony being any the wiser. Some might have thought this evil, and on a par with the worst excesses of the Sombre King or countless other tyrants and dictators that had inevitably sprung up at the borders of her beautiful nation. Celestia thought of it as the ultimate in benevolence. She had not once served herself, or sullied the work with emotion, as her sister did. For which she paid an appropriate price, she reminded herself. Not once, until recently. The first rays of sunlight crested the horizon and began to cast long shadows over the valleys and plains beyond Canterlot. Little towns and villages were painted in a sheen of gold, a lacquer over the homely smudges of brown and black. The high lances of the pegasus roosts and the bell shaped rooftops of the city itself sparkled with dew, the night retrieving its aspersions of gloom from them to reveal the intricacies of their decoration and design. It was a scene that had greeted her every morning in almost exactly the same manner for ten centuries. The Plaza Centrum building at the heart of the city suddenly shuddered, as if the God of the Winds had poked a vast, divine jelly. The granite and limestone gargoyles perched around its high edges wobbled precariously, and long streamers of displaced dust and crumbled stone filled the air. Long cracks began to track down its intricate white marble fascia, distorting the murals and tableaus of history depicted there, and as they did, an aura of blue and purple crowned the city’s centrepiece building. That combination was how Celestia perceived the highest energy radiation emissions; as they increased in intensity the old Goddess knew that it had begun. The building promptly exploded in a bright flash, briefly outshining the dawning sun, and Celestia’s lips curled into a smile. * After Luna had finished her story, and after Twilight's friends had recovered their sensibilities, an unpleasant silence had come over the Boutique. The telling had taken all night, and they had only paused once to allow Luna to perform her duties, which had apparently been a far less impressive affair than anyone had expected it to be. The Queen of Tides suspected that even if there had been a fantastic light show with dancing zebras in ballet garb and a flypast by the Wonderbolts, the assembled team of local heroes slash pillars of the community wouldn't have so much as batted an eyelid. In fairness, she had just overturned their entire worldview, not to mention reduced the so-called historical accuracy behind the seasonal pageant they themselves had performed in to smoldering ruin. Presumably her sister had found it amusing to have them play such a role. No, forget that. Celestia never found anything amusing. Though the Bastard Wyrmling certainly did. The whole time he'd just sat there, smiling, staring right at her with those moronic googly eyes. Why he chose that form, Luna would never understand. He could be anything. He could be nothing. He could be a thousand grains of sand on a thousand beaches on a thousand different worlds stretched out across the cosmos. Yet he chose that form, with its eyes and mismatched parts. It was to annoy her, she was sure of it. He broke the silence first. “You're probably all having a bit of a hard time acclimatizing,” Discord crooned. “After all, you have been living with this sappy outlook on reality for so long. Why, if Twilight were here right now--” “So now do you understand?” Luna interrupted, looking at Applejack in particular. The farm pony was laid out on one of Rarity's chaise lounges, which apparently were of the rare, self-replicating type, as identical versions had been found for all of them. “Do you comprehend why we have to stop the Element of Magic before the situation becomes more...” Luna looked for a charitable word. “untenable?” “Ah'll never look at apples the same way again,” the farmer said, an awful tone of complete hopelessness in her voice. “Or rainbows. Or clouds,” Rainbow Dash agreed. “Do you think I could reapply for flight camp?” Fluttershy asked, of nopony in particular. “ Especially clouds,” Dash continued. “Please, friends, listen! I know that this is hard, but Twilight is at this moment in deepest peril. We must unite and use the magic of friendsh--” “Friendship is dead! Friendship was magic!” Fluttershy shouted, starting to cry. Luna sighed and decided to leave them to it for awhile. It certainly was a lot to take in. Nurse Redheart and a now-comatose Rarity were in one of the boutique’s spacious fitting rooms, so she drifted back there to join them. Propped up against one of the walls, alongside several ponyquins dressed in half-made frilly lace ensembles, was the cactus. It was the only thing that had calmed Rarity, in the end, even after a heroic dose of sedative magic. “Princess, we can't even figure out what's in her blood-- and my staff are the best phlebotoscryers this side of Canterlot,” Redheart said, not bothering to stand up from the big cushion beside the inevitable chaise lounge where Rarity was sprawled. “I know you said that meeting was classified, but I have to be able to treat my patient.” “'Tis dangerous magic in her veins,” Luna said gloomily. “That, and probably uranium.” “Uranium? What's that?” “The least of her concerns, unfortunately.” “Is being cryptic and mysterious just your way of saying that you don't know?” Luna blinked and raised an eyebrow at the remarkably candid mare. “Because your sister tried that on me once after the thing with the parasprites, and I've come to know that you shouldn't believe her lies.” After the intensity and stress of the night, all Luna could think of doing at that moment was breaking down in hysterical laughter. So she did. * Twilight gave the surface of the mare Imbrium a tentative look. Against every expectation of her not inconsiderable scientific mind, waves and ripples were moving across it. They didn't seem to be formed by anything analogous to wind action, though. They were spreading out in random patterns, changing direction as though they had a mind of their own. Twilight found that if she followed any single wave for too long, a disturbing fractal effect emerged, bringing with it an unpleasant throbbing pain in the middle of her skull. The giant lunar squid was obviously an ambush predator, feeding on things that happened to wander along the shoreline. Besides the fact that fighting the beast on its home turf seemed like a bad idea, and that the Imbrium was as opaque as smoked glass, who knew what magic they had been imbued with by their creator? They might well have been Nightmare Moon's guard dogs, specifically designed to kill or capture alicorns. No, she would wait until something attracted its attention, and strike then. It didn't take long for that something to make itself known. Twilight was drawing shapes in the dust with the tip of her harpoon when she felt a low rumbling beneath her hooves. She turned to see what it was and laid eyes upon a remarkable sight. A creature was burrowing its way out of the lunar soil with the tip of its nose. It was a deer. Twilight recalled the shape from books on exotic Equestrians. Those descriptions and pictures had made them out to be mostly dun or tan coloured, with white chests and spots. This one, however, was a striking jet black, as though the night itself had taken on the form of a deer in order to live amongst mortals, except for the eyes. They were a deep blue, and though they had the slit irises of the Nightmare, they held none of the hate or anger. Instead, all Twilight saw was an intense sorrow. It was very familiar, and after a moment she realised why. This was the same look Luna had sported on her first nights back. The lunar deer, as Twilight subconsciously named it, seemed to be scenting the air. How curious, she thought. There's no atmosphere. I wonder how it's biology even works? And I'm pretty sure our native deer aren't subterranean. Apparently satisfied that danger wasn't near, the deer lifted itself daintily out of the hole and trotted the short distance to the shoreline, where it began to lap at the water with a remarkably normal looking tongue. “Let's fly to the castle!” Twilight dropped the harpoon in sheer surprise. Her entire stint on the moon had been characterised by complete silence, as befitted its nature as an airless ball of rock. To hear anything, let alone a voice so saccharine, was shocking. Especially as it almost sounded like Princess Celestia. Spinning around, Twilight came muzzle to muzzle with an alicorn. It was pink. Not pink like certain ponies she could mention, or the pink of her namesake. This was weapons-grade pink. If this pink was deployed in battle, it would be a war crime that surpassed all others. Whole armies of poets and writers would be required to describe but a single atom of its all-encompassing pinkness. “Excuse me?!” Twilight felt herself wordlessly mouth. Unfortunately, it was at that moment the giant lunar squid decided it was time for lunch. * Apparently, someone had attempted to cast Star Swirl the Unshorn's Strong Force Bomb, the end result of which had been the explosion Celestia had witnessed. The unicorn responsible was now wandering in circles amidst the ruins of what had previously been a rather fetching example of Late Classical architecture, singing very loudly to himself. Celestia alighted gracefully in the open plaza and headed toward him, though now not much separated it from the building that had once been its focal point. It was probably a very good thing that the unicorn had only managed to succeed in the first part of the spell. Celestia probed the local space/time curiously, checking it for damage. A distinct sensation of annoyance washed over her. Nothing too bad, she mused. Though I'm probably off the Hearth's Warming card list. Again. The triarch put on her best 'concerned royal' face and began making a show of picking through the debris for survivors as a crowd of innocent bystanders began to gather. Not that the Strong Force Bomb ever left much in the way of survivors. It was very precise, that way. Either you were in its area of influence, and were now not much more than a rapidly expanding cloud of very confused high energy photons, or you were now busy thanking any God that might be listening for your miraculous escape. “But Ennis was longah and strongah than most,” the unicorn half-sang, half-shouted. He had a thick South Canterlot accent, and his words were slurring. “By dint of his magical, fourteen foot po--” “Ahem.” “Cincess Prelestia!” he exclaimed, as though she had walked in on him in the bathroom. “What're you doin' here?” “Oh, I was just in the neighbourhood,” she replied, quite casually. “I was just wondering if I might ask you a question?” “H-heck!” he beamed. “You've come to the right pony! They don't call me Question Mark just because I'm questionable!” The unicorn winked laboriously in a manner he undoubtedly regarded as the height of eroticism. Celestia sighed internally, wondering why in the wide wide world of Equestria she'd ever repealed those laws proscribing the propositioning of a Goddess. “You haven't, by any chance, consumed any alcohol today?” “Alcohol?” Question Mark said, seeming genuinely surprised. “I never touch the stuff. I’m an entertainer, y’know’, for foals. It’d be bad for business.” “So no wines, beers, meads, rotten apples or bread that's been left out in the sun too long?” “Nope. Can't say that I have.” He patted his chest with a hoof. “This body o' mine is a temple of virtues.” “I see, well, carry on,” the Princess made to leave, then turned back. “Actually, don't. Please refrain from any more overenthusiastic spell casting. “Oh, about that,” he scratched the back of his head. “I was trying to cast Unshorn's Superb Farce Bomb and got a little confused.” “Ah, I see. Well don't cast that one either. I have a feeling things are about to get rather hectic around here, and I'm sure the guardsponies won't appreciate herds of sexually aggressive bison roaming the streets.” “I was going to make them pink.” Celestia raised an eyebrow, shook her head and took to the sky once more. *   Several things happened at once. The giant lunar squid burst from the surface of the Imbrium, propelled on a column of glittering dust at a speed that seemed impossible for something so vast. Its two elongated captor tentacles sprang out ahead of it. The deer simply looked up, regarding the behemoth with the air of someone realising the outcome of a foalish prank. Twilight was sure she saw it grin. Behind the deer, the lunar surface ruptured, as though it was the epicentre of a tremendous moon quake. A long, shocked fault line rose up just to Twilight's left, stretching along the beach into infinity. For a moment, peace reigned. Everything seemed beautifully frozen in time. She could feel the adrenaline racing around her brain, begging her to react. Then, as if given a cue by some invisible director, physics ensued. The squid flared open its many tentacles and landed bodily on the deer. As it did so, the new low cliff face of torn ground began to explode. Dark shapes flitted out, hundreds of them, vicious shimmering missiles wrapped in eggshell blue magic, all vectoring in toward the squid. Suddenly, Twilight was flying. Cold, pink, metallic hooves had wrapped themselves underneath her forelegs. Moments later a second and third giant lunar squid joined their comrade on the shoreline. The black and blue missiles were slamming into it at great speed, and it was having a hard time responding. Twilight caught a glimpse of one as it slowed to curve around and attack again. It was distinctly cervine in appearance. A few minutes later, Twilight and her impromptu ally landed on a basalt outcropping three kilometres from the shoreline. The low, rolling selenology allowed the jut of volcanic rock a commanding view of the landscape. The battle had clearly become titanic in nature. The gang of squids had been further reinforced by  five or six of their kind, and the sheer number of deer flitting over the surface of the Imbrium boggled her mind. Both sides had taken causalities. The beach was littered with black dots, and several squid were lying motionless, missing tentacles. Of the many situations Twilight had considered on arriving here, this was not one of them. This place wasn't supposed to have any life at all. She'd been very sceptical when she'd read the description for ingredient number two. A Goddesses’ own nature reserve, on the moon of all places. It was preposterous. It wasn't scientifically plausible. It was taking place right in front of her eyes. At least now she wouldn't have to kill anything. She could probably just scavenge the battlefield later on. “Blimey, I'm glad that's over, was that your first time?” the pink, saccharine voice asked. “Who on Equestria are you?” Twilight asked, still mouthing noiselessly. The alicorn was standing next to her, looking sheepish but invigorated. “Oh right, of course, hang on,” she replied, and pulled a strange face that reminded Twilight of the gastrointestinal results of a particularly strong batch of Pinkie's experimental prune cupcakes. The long, slender horn typical to most alicorns glowed and sputtered weakly. “There, that should do it.” “Do what?” Twilight heard herself say. “That, of course. I forgot, I'm sorry. The last time we had a visitor here was… well, it was never! We've never had a visitor.” “I'm Twilight Sparkle,” she said, tapping her chest with a hoof. “And you are?” “Oh, yes, of course. I'm called Whom.” “Your name is Whom?” “Yes. It's short for ‘A Pretty Pink Princess Whom Nopony Will Ever Love’, but only Nightmare Moon ever used my full name. My friends just call me Whom.” “I-- I see...” Twilight mumbled. She hadn't thought the vagaries of the Nightmare had extended to creating sentient life to torture. Artificial biospheres for the sake of art or entertainment were one thing. This was quite another. Whom didn't seem to be very sad or upset, though. Her face was locked in a permanent mirthful rictus. “Well, I'm from Equestria, and I'm here--” “Let's talk about it back at my castle. We can fly there!” “Your castle?” “Yes. My castle. I've got lots of them.” “Um, thank you, maybe later.” She gestured at the distant battle. “I'm here to gather a vital alchemical ingredient.” “Those guys won't be done for hours.” “Still, I think I'll just stay here and wait.” “Oh, I see,” Whom looked genuinely upset for the first time in the conversation. “What about a motte and bailey?” “No, thank you.” “Iron age hill fort? What about a nice redoubt, all modern interiors, built on what would one might generously call a steep incline?” “Honestly--” “Okay, okay, since it's you, first new visitor to the moon since forever, I'll make you an offer. I've been saving it, see, for a really special occasion. It's a stunning example of neo-gothic and baroque fusion, on a granite escarpment. It's got minarets and spires and crenellations you will die for. Whaddaya think?” Twilight massaged her temple. You didn't think it was going to be that easy, did you? * “No! You absolutely cannot name your son Ennis!” The Canterlot Hall of Records was full to bursting. This wasn't unusual for the time of year. By dint of their biology, all equine conceptions inevitably occurred within a week or two of each other. This led to sudden rushes on the immaculate marble and golden counters as ponies sought to register the births of their foals, with only a trickle of deaths and marriages the rest of the time. What was unusual, however, was how rowdy the crowd seemed today. New parents were always excitable. Repeat customers less so, but they would still be riding high on the rush of it all. The gaggle of ponies and young infants filling the venerable hall just seemed drunk, and in the most crude possible way. Ponies were tottering about, laughing wildly and generally being far too loud. There had even been several incidents of singing. “By which I mean to say,” Double Emboss continued, adjusting his gold lace government issue tie with a polite burst of magic. “That name has been on the forbidden list for the last six hundred years. It will simply not be possible to register it.” “Oh, I see,” the tenth sire to ask that question in the last half hour said. “What about Steven?” “Steven?!” Emboss exclaimed. “What kind of a name is that for a pony?” “I don't know,” the dam interjected. “But I like Steven. Can we have Steven?” “Very well,” Emboss said, attempting to hide his exasperation. “Steven Dazzle it is.” Emboss levitated his quill and, in a moment, the deed was done. The mewling orange pegasus neophyte before him was now legally known as Steven Dazzle. He handed the paperwork over to the unfortunately misguided parents, and the next couple trotted forward.          “Hi!” they both beamed, smiling the smiles of alcoholics everywhere. The unicorn dam was carrying a pegasus foal in a pannier. “This is Enn--” “For the love of Celestia!” Emboss shouted. He slammed the counter shutters closed with a far less polite burst of magical energy. His colleagues were all staring at him. He shot them back looks that would have flash boiled milk and burned holes in tungsten sheets. Double Emboss had been working for Her Majesty's government for more than thirty years. He was by far the most senior pony on the floor. If he wanted to storm out, he bloody well would, and only the Princesses themselves could stop him. Speaking of whom... The offices behind the rank of counters merged seamlessly with the warren of corridors linking the palatial administration spaces. They eventually ran all the way up to the peak of Avalon and the Castle itself. No reason to go that far today, though. As soon as Emboss was sure he was alone, he stopped and glanced around. 'Corridor' didn't really do justice to the space he was standing in. This was more like an interior avenue, partially cut into the rock. White and black marble Doric columns stood in evenly spaced pairs all along it, guarding mahogany and ponyoak doors. Each was neatly marked with a number cut in either gold or platinum, depending on which of the two Goddesses it concerned. Alas, the recent coronation had not quite yet penetrated this deeply into the bureaucracy. “Celestia!” he shouted into the thin air. “I know you can hear me! We need a word!” After a moment, one of the shafts of light put out by the solar candles lit above each door wobbled slightly. Then it began to congeal, the beam wrapping around itself and growing larger. The graceful shape of an alicorn appeared, manifesting purposefully onto the green marble floor. Her golden shoes made just the slightest click upon it. To the vast majority of ponies, such an apparition would have triggered shocked silence and reverent kowtowing. All Emboss did was glare. He looked very much like a young child, defiant for the first time in the eyes of a parent, even though this was far from the first time he had been angry with the Goddess. “My dearest Double Emboss,” she cooed. It was a voice from the seat of Olympus itself. Emboss fought to resist the new images entering his head; great rolling fields of lush grass, the sensation of time spiralling infinitely outwards from a single source, the intense heat of the zenith, the smell of an ageless garden in full bloom. This was a favourite parlour trick of the Gods. “What can I do for you today?” “You can knock that off for a start,” he muttered, trying not to stare into her eyes. “You know it doesn't work on me.” “My sincerest apologies,” she said. The intrusive images vanished, and Emboss was once more in the avenue-corridor, alone with Celestia. “It's not as though I usually make house calls.” “I take it you've seen that mess out there?” Emboss said. “Forty couples trying to name their kids after stuff on the forbidden list. Most of it to do with that damn song about the unicorn with the giant whatsit. Everyone looks like they've been at the booze! It's the middle of the day!” “Yes, indeed. But I don't know why you think I'm involved. Citizens are free to imbibe whatever substances they wish. Perhaps they are all celebrating the recent additions to their families.” “Come on, Celestia. I've been at this game too long. Parents don't turn up at registry offices drunk. It's just not done. And since when does anything happen in this city without your hoof in it somewhere? What about that giant explosion this morning?” “You wound me, Emboss.” She smiled unsettlingly. It was remarkably toothy for a creature that was supposedly a herbivore. “But in this case you are correct.” “So what’re you up to?” “It's not so much what I am up to, but what my most faithful student is up to.” “The purple one?” “She is your Princess now, Emboss,” Celestia said, casually. “As much as you have earned the right to a familiar tone with me, you will respect her, at least.” “Fine, fine,” he grumbled. “So what is Her Royal Highness up to?” “She seeks to brew my sister's Nectars.” “Sky above!” “Not just that, though,” Celestia continued, glancing left and right to ensure they were still alone. “Once she has completed the first batch, the Thiasus will follow.” “The Thiasus?” “Indeed,” the Goddess nodded, in a tone Emboss could only relate to excitement. “It is an event of great joy that is presaged by an intense act of debauchery. I would think my sister pleased, as hedonism is an aspect of hers, but she seeks a halt to it,” Celestia examined a gold shod hoof. “She will fail.” “Dionysus will come to us again. He will hear the call across the formless void and return for His procession. It wasn't really supposed to happen again for another century or two, but when I graduated my student to her current status, and discovered her latent drinking problem, I thought it was probably a good a time as any. I cannot break my own laws, as you know, and it takes the hooves of a Goddess to make the nectars.” “I've never heard any reference to a Thiasus, or this Dionysus, in any of the texts on your sister's nectars,” Emboss said, carefully. “I've been through the restricted wing of the royal archive at least twice. Plenty of stories about bat ponies and what they get up to at night, though.” “Yes, well, you wouldn't have,” Celestia chuckled. “It's not something we like to put about. Not even my sister remembers, though it was her who triggered the last one. Those High Solstice parties used to get extraordinarily wild. It was inevitable that it would attract someone of Dionysus' character.” “Who is Dionysus?!” “Why, Emboss,” she positively grinned, fluttering her wings. “He's the only person who knows how to show a Goddess a good time.” *