VI. These Arts Are Perilous
Luna
Luna was silent as she surveyed her sleeping city of Canterlot. As the daylight had left, the subdued business of the city had wound down like an old toy. Her eyes traced the streets that were at once foreign and familiar. How they had changed in her absence! Yet, some things had not. The High City was the same. She supposed it would never change. The Argent and Golden Gates in the interior of the city stood as they had since before she and her sister had ruled from Everfree.
The lower city hadn’t been walled in yet, she thought to herself. It was creating itself, back then. Sprouting up like a nascent forest.
It was not really the city that was on her mind. Her thoughts wandered, flitting from subject to subject: Twilight. House Rowan-Oak. Her sister.
“Um... Princess?”
Her guest. “Yes, Spike?” she replied, eyes not leaving the city below.
“I’m sorry... you sent me a runner? I mean, I didn’t wanna rush you. If you’re doing something, I guess I can just wait.”
Luna sighed. “No, We have ignored you long enough. We apologize.” She turned and walked back into her reception room. Spike leaned against the far wall, and as he saw her he stood smartly. She nodded at him. “We are glad you waited, Spike. ‘Twas good of you.”
“It’s what I’m here for, Princess,” he replied. He eased off of the wall and stood before her in the center of the spacious chamber. She regarded him.
Spike had grown up, she reflected. Perhaps not all the way, but he was making it there. He was taller than a pony, perhaps as tall as two stacked. She would have to measure to be absolutely sure. The spikes on his back and head had grown immensely. His green eyes seemed somehow more fully draconic.
“Indeed. Twilight was perhaps right when she recommended that We take you into my confidence, Spike. You have matured.”
He smiled. “Something like that, Your Highness.”
And still he did not ask, though she could see his tail twitching behind him. Luna smiled. No, not quite there, but he was learning. Patience is a virtue, young Spike. You begin to see. But he would have to wait a little longer even so.
“We are a bit puzzled what to do with you. Officially, if you understand.”
“I hadn’t thought ‘bout it.”
“We could arrange for you to take command of some auxiliaries currently under Captain Broad Hoof. Or perhaps Iron Shod? Do you have a preference?" She tilted her head and offered him a smile.
Spike seemed taken aback. His mouth fell open. “Uh... I mean, I’m not sure I would know what to do, Your Highness.”
“Which is why, for now, We have decided against it. It is simply too much to ask of you at this time. Though... ‘twould be nice to...” Luna paused and shook her head. “Excuse us, our thoughts stray. May We have anything brought up for you?”
Spike shook his head. “No thank you, Your Highness.”
“As you wish. If you will take no refreshment, it would seem our business is at hoof.”
He stiffened, and his wandering tail stilled. “Y-Yes?” he asked.
“Do you like walks?”
He simply blinked rapidly at her. Luna resisted a sudden urge to chuckle, and felt the pressure in her chest diminish a bit. Yes, she was glad Twilight had spoken to her about her familiar..
Spike finally managed to answer. “I... yeah? Sorry, yes. Yes I do, your Highness.”
“Excellent. Then We shall simply let the guards outside from our friends House Rowan-Oak go home, shan’t we?”
Spike paused, his face screwing up in sudden recognition. Good. He begins to learn. Luna walked by him, her eyes catching his. She gestured towards the door. Observe, she thought.
“Guards?”
The door opened, and two armored stallions rushed in. Luna noted the rather conspicuous four-pointed star insignia that adorned their barding. She reined in her distaste and kept her features neutral and composed.
She wondered briefly if Spike noticed, but then dismissed that line of thought. She couldn’t keep second-guessing what he did or didn’t see. She would simply have to begin teaching him to see. Assume that he didn’t. She would need his eyes.
And his claws.
“Guards,” she spoke, looking both of them in the eyes, one after the other, “we will be taking our leisure in the gardens. I trust that you will maintain your posts?”
It wasn’t strictly necessary to say this of course. Perhaps it was even a bit spiteful of her. Regardless, they answered in unison. “Yes, your Highness!”
“Excellent. Spike? Come,” she strode past the guards. Spike walked beside her, and she wished she could see his face. Those reptilian features were not so hard to read, not for one such as she. Luna had known many dragons.
They left the Rowan-Oak guards behind, and in the hall two batponies stood at attention. She smiled at them warmly, and gestured to Spike.
“Harcourt, Rolan! This is Spike, newly sworn into my service. Spike, these are two of the Nightshade Guard.”
Spike bowed awkwardly. Luna chuckled, delighted that he should try. The two Nightshades accepted it with their patented stoic grace, mouths in firm, expressionless lines as they bowed in return. Dark eyes, gray coats, black manes; they could have been carved from the very stone below them all in the mountain, Luna thought for not the first time. And were they not like stone, hard and unyielding?
She turned, and Spike trotted to her side. The Nightshades followed and she turned her attention to the guards in the hall. It was perhaps a futile endeavour, as the assignments shifted, but it filled the time to count their sources. Most were regular rank-and-file Royal Guard, drawn from levies and volunteers. Unassociated with any house, they answered to the Princesses primarily. The Houses Major could exert little direct influence upon them through legislation or order. In theory, a bastion of support and power. In practice, at least now that the world had moved on, they were wild cards. Divided into two halves, one for day and one for night, for each sister. A whole half of them were bereft of a proper master. They were a sock with no foot. A sheath without a sword. She felt for them; she understood it well. It also made Luna nervous.
“Do you know much about the Eastern Batponies, Spike? And our Nightshades?”
“No, your Highness. Almost nothing,” he replied. His voice echoed lightly in the hall. It sounded so adolescent in her ears, and she frowned.
There were a few House Guards, provided by ancient obligation to the monarch of Equestria by the disparate Houses Major. These were the ones she felt sure of. House Rowan-Oak: in the camp of the conspirators, but perhaps not all the way in. House Trotsany: leaning towards loyalty. Ah, House Epona, from the west: loyal, solidly so.
“Oh, good! We do love telling stories, Spike. Would you believe it, that We once were considered a patron of the arts? It is true, We quite enjoyed the company of artists and writers. Storytellers, all of them, full of such stories. Yes..." Luna trailed off, large eyes lost in fond memories for a moment before she snapped back to the present. Her smile was brittle when she spoke again, but it warmed as she continued, "But we were talking about my Nightshades."'
Luna marked the faces of the House Guards. She remembered this one... this one... the two from Trotsany were new. She added them to her growing list. It was slow going, but she thought perhaps worth it to know who might stab her in the back.
She shook her head. Have I become such a low thing that I would think in this vein?
Yet she did. She needed to. “You see, Spike,” she said, keeping her voice light, “there are batponies in the west, where Twilight is headed. We daresay she will encounter them in their homelands. When We traveled with our sister in the days of our youth, we made many friends in among them. In our ascendency, they asked that they might be our right hoof.”
Luna smiled, remembering strange, flat roofs on a lonely plain, the smell of spices she couldn’t name, and the sound of strange music. It seemed far too long ago.
“Huh. So they aren’t native to Equestria?”
She tsked. “Ah, but they are now, Spike. It has been a long time, ‘twixt then and now. We daresay they are just as native as you.” Luna thought about this, and then chuckled. “Perhaps more so. Dragons came late into this corner of creation, Spike.”
Luna took a right, and led her newest charge down a stairwell into the Great Hall.
She did not expect him to ask questions, and gave him a sidelong glance and a raised eyebrow when he did. She could not say it was disappointing.
“Do you know a lot about dragons, then, Princess?”
“We do indeed, Spike. We would gladly tell you more, if you would hear it.”
“I would,” he replied. She could almost hear his smile. Finally, a pony who will listen to my stories. Twilight picked you well.
Twilight. What could Twilight be doing, right this moment? Luna saw Twilight on the road in her mind’s eye. Pausing, perhaps, to check the map, Twilight would be shielding her eyes against the bright sun. She would be grimacing, her brow furrowed. Dedicated. Focused.
Luna was glad for her ability to daydream and navigate simultaneously. She had brought Spike at last to the great doors that led out to the gardens. She smiled and stopped at the top of them, surveying the forest of torches below. A few small figures moved below. Our guards.
Loyal, perhaps. She would not judge them without seeing them. Regardless, Luna wished for privacy.
“Nightshades, would you kindly clear the way? We wish not to be disturbed by well-intentioned soldiery.”
There was a rustling as leathery wings unfurled. The laconic stallions took to the air and split up. Luna wandered down towards the meandering walkways, whistling an ancient tune. The night was, of course, wonderful. She had brought forth her splendid argent moon with care, greeting it with a weary smile. After the burden of the day, the gentle light of the moon and the familiarity of the nocturnal air was comforting. How did Celestia bear it? Did she struggle at first, too? For a few years? I never asked her, when I had the opportunity.
“Princess?”
She continued on, listening to the strains of her own song and the clack of Spike’s adolescent claws on the little paved paths. How she had enjoyed resuming her walks at dusk with her sister, before Celestia’s sabbatical. “Yes, Spike?”
“I’m... I’m kinda confused. I mean, I thought you’d have something for me to do. Or something.”
“And what makes you think that I don’t?”
She could almost hear Spike’s mouth opening in surprise, and she smiled thinly. By now, she was sure her Nightshades had done their appointed tasks. Luna was impatient to begin, but even she had learned caution.
The Princess summoned her magic and the air shimmered.
“Spike, what have I done just now? Do you know?”
“I... why aren’t you...?”
“We are in private, are we not? I can drop the mask here,” Luna said, and stopped. She whirled on Spike, who stepped back. His strange draconic pupils were slits in the moonlight, and she could read the surprise in them. “Answer me, Spike. Come.”
“You cast a sound barrier,” he answered at last, setting his face into a stoic mask.
Contemplation? Trying for a brave face? Perhaps I forgot more of dragons in my long exile than I thought, Luna considered.
“Good. Yes, and now we are alone in a very true sense.” Luna sat, and tilted her head. “I wish I had time to gain a rapport with you in a better environment. As you can imagine, I am rather hard pressed.”
“I can imagine. It kinda sucks around here.”
Luna was shocked into laughter by his sudden lapse into vulgarity. The corners of his mouth lifted back to reveal glimmering teeth in the torchlight—discomfort! I remember that for sure, say true—and Luna held a hoof up to her mouth. She shook with quiet mirth. “Oh, forgive me. Yes, you’re quite right, Spike. It does indeed ‘suck’ these days.”
Spike smiled, reassured. “But it’s getting better, right? I mean, Twilight and them are all out there doing stuff.”
“Perhaps, Spike. Perhaps! I daresay that our Twilight will do her best. But we shall not be idle!” She looked away for a moment, her eyes catching movement of shadows out on the other paths. My Nightshades, waiting, I suppose.
“No,” she continued, turning back towards the watchful young drake. “No, if you are willing, we shall be quite occupied in a rather dangerous employment.”
“Dangerous?” Spike smirked, and Luna wondered how sincere it was.
“Of course. The world has moved along since the days when you were a child, Spike. Danger is everywhere underhoof! But I have certain things in mind. Dragons were never creatures of stealth, in the old days. I wonder if that holds true.”
“Uh... I mean,” Spike scratched his head with a single claw. “I guess I can keep a secret, if that’s what you mean.”
“No, though I do not doubt your fidelity! But the time is not quite right for outright action. The time is fragile. I am not exactly beloved, Spike
He grimaced. “Don’t say that, your Highness. The ponies like you.”
Luna sighed. “Perhaps. Would you like to continue walking?”
Spike shrugged and nodded.
The continued along the paved way, and Luna remembered walking these paths with Celestia, not long after her return. She recalled that first moonrise, when she had taken up her old burden once more. It had been a moment of sweetness, and she had felt right. Celestia had smiled with such warmth, and thanked her as she let the stars shine brilliantly in the dark. For her night.
Luna wondered what Celestia was doing. She looked to her right to find Spike there.
“I should apologize to you, Spike,” she said softly.
He looked over at her, cocking his head to the side. “What for?”
“I have done you wrong. Namely, I have called you a ‘familiar’ without knowledge of how language has changed while I slumbered in the dark.” Luna’s ears drooped. “In my time, you must understand, it was a rather common term. It was no insult. It was simply fact. My aide has informed me that it has some... ‘baggage’ associated with it, I think he said.”
Spike shrugged. “It’s no big deal. Honestly, I didn’t even know.”
“Be that as it may, I am sorry for it. You must be very close with Twilight.” She faltered, losing her train of thought. What had she wanted to talk about? It hadn’t been Twilight.
But Spike smiled. “Definitely. They found my egg without a mother, y’know? I mean, they didn’t know what happened to my mom. Twilight wasn’t supposed to be able to hatch me, that was the whole test. It was to see how she would try, how she would handle failure. But she did. I got to have a chance to grow up in Ponyville and be happy because of her.”
“Has she always been as she is now? So driven? She is like... a stone. At the top of the hill it will never move, but get it going, and...” she trailed off, her eyes wandering among the stars. “I don’t know how to describe Twilight Sparkle.”
“Kind of. Her whole world was books and stuff when I was really young. Princess Celestia raised me until Twilight moved into the Palace. But we were like... I guess like siblings? I mean, she has a brother, but he went off to guard training. When Shining left, Twilight had me, and I was her assistant. Her number one assistant.” He sighed. “That was a long time ago.”
They passed a statue of three ponies raising a flag with a star. Luna stopped and held out a foreleg to stop Spike. Then, she gestured to the marble scene, flanked by magic-lit torches, and began to speak.
“Did you know there was an Equestria before my sister and I came out of the west? There was, and it was a hardscrabble little kingdom. But they were proud, and they were brave. You know the story of Founding, I assume.”
“Well, yeah, I mean it’s just Hearth’s Warming, right?”
“Yes, more or less. It is not precisely the tale that is told every year, but it is close enough that you will understand.” Luna began to smile, and it was a small and soft sort of expression. As she told her story, her voice changed. She knew it did, and she knew that as she weaved the tiniest of threads of magic in the air that Spike would begin to see what she had once seen.
Luna knew that before him the statue seemed almost to evaporate and be replaced, not violently but surely, like a mirage in the desert. He would see the rough beginnings of Canterlot, then little more than a castle with a few hovels surrounding it. Rock hewn from the living mountain Canter—shaped by magic and quarried by Earth ponies—formed into sturdy towers that sported the ancient banner of Equestria. Luna knew he would see it as it had been, before Discord. When first her sister and she had wandered into the east, into the little land between the Twinned Oceans, they had stayed the night in the court of Queen Amethyst.
Luna began to tell Spike about how they had left and gone north, wandering without aim and with few cares. She told him about the oracle they had been given there, though she did not tell him where or by whom it was given, and how they returned years later to find Discord on the throne of the little kingdom who had befriended them.
“Do you know why this statue is important to me, Spike? Because it reminds me,” she said, and the smile that had lingered now blossomed in full. “The oracle given to us was also given to the ponies of Equestria, and though they spent years waiting for our advent, they never lost hope. So it was, Spike, that when we came into the plain below the mountain Canter that they saw our coming and foals came out to greet us, their mothers behind them, tears in their eyes. They were ready. We were so happy, in that moment, almost as if victory was not still months off. We were so very, very happy.”
Spike was quiet. Luna looked down at him, tearing her eyes away from the past. She wondered what was happening in that foreign, scaly mind of his.
At last, when he said nothing, she continued. “The statue reminds me that life moves on, Spike. The village was named Vale, and when finally our long battle with Discord was done, we returned to find it changed. Not many had died—and we thanked the Song for that—but they were scarred. They did not blame us, Spike, but I never forgot how the world moves on.”
“That’s sad,” he murmured at last.
“Yes,” she agreed, turning away. “But would you like to know the rest?”
“I’m not sure I do,” Spike said. Luna wondered if he was watching the statue still, or if his eyes were following her.
She stalled on the path, her eyes scanning the night. “On the fiftieth anniversary of Discord’s final defeat and deposement, Celestia and I returned to Vale, and the place of our first arrival in the kingdom. It had grown since then, and would you like to know what the character of the place was?”
She glanced over her shoulder. Spike was looking at the statue.
“Sure.”
“They were happy, Spike. The foals were grandparents, and they still came out to meet us. The ones that inspired that statue, who made that flag? I embraced them, and remembered their names. They were content. They had lived life to the lees despite the haunted eyes I had seen, and the world had moved even farther along.”
Luna was glad when Spike spoke directly. “So, things get better?”
“Perhaps. They certainly can, my friend. Even I know that the Night passes.” Luna sighed. “Come, I think we will go a little further into the gardens.”
And so they did.
Fable Rowan-Oak
Fable Rowan-Oak, heir of House Rowan-Oak and so-called Sword Prince of Canterlot, was unfathomably bored.
The halls were boring. The books were boring. The guards were... well, more boring than usual. They were more or less always boring, he had found, with their stoic gazes and refusal to play his games. Everything that Fable could find was utterly boring. He was quite tired of it.
He lay sprawled out on the opulent couch, dragging his hoof across the soft carpet. His gaze wandered over the walls of books, completely unfocused.
Groaning, he rolled over quickly. “Paradise, you have to let me do something.”
“You know that my orders are rather specific, young Master. They are also strict.”
“They’re also stupid.” He sat up, scowling. “Honestly, I’m eighteen years old. I’m grown, aren’t I? One would think that I would at least be able to leave the house.”
Fable leaned towards the door where his bodyguard stood, glaring over the lip of the couch.
“I can make no comment on that,” Paradise responded, one of his strange, tufted batpony ears flicking.
“I know when you’re laughing at me, Paradise. I won’t have it.”
“I am not laughing, young master.”
Fable growled. “Look... Oh nevermind. You’re an unsufferable sort, you know that?”
“Yes.”
“What exactly did my mother tell you? What was the actual wording of your order?”
The batpony coughed and deadpanned as if by by rote, “Fable is not allowed anywhere near Saddle Street.”
Fable sighed and rolled off the couch. He dusted himself off and straightened the barding. Taking a moment to glance down at the tree emblem on his chest, he considered his options. The night was boring—it was absolutely criminal, really, that in times like these that the night should be boring. High Canterlot was about as entertaining as a mausoleum. His mother had finally caught wise to his carousing. Unfortunate, too. I had only begun to taste of the seedier side of my dear Canterlot. It’s not like I wore the emblem of our house, slumming it. No harm in a few drinks and some mares in a tavern. Just a few games of cards, it’s all I wanted.
Annoyed, he wandered the large library. With an idle bit of magic, he turned an antique globe. The strange continents turned before his eyes, but he didn’t care to examine them. The thing about maps, he had decided so long ago, was that they were rather uninteresting unless they were of something you needed. Sure, his little brother loved them and could tell you all sorts of geographical... things, and he supposed those were useful, but the only kind of map Fable needed was the one he kept in his head, the one that told him where the bars were and where the best shows in town could be found.
The library of house Rowan-Oak was extensive. Books, from ceiling to floor, with a few ladders to reach volumes on the very top shelves. It was two stories, with a small balcony above the door with more shelves and a few nice couches. It was also home to several suits of ornate barding made for Tarrow Rowan during the Dragon Wars and capable of withstanding dragon fire in small dosages.His father had loved entertaining ponies on business there, to show off his family’s twinned nature.
Fable wandered over towards the large window that looked down at the gardens. There was a guard patrolling the small walls of the estate, and his young sister chatting with one of her little friends beside the fountain in the torchlight.
There were two strains of his illustrious family, and it was for a reason that sometimes they wore black and white instead of the green and gold. House Rowan, a unicorn family, had married into House Oak and brought with them a love of lore and power. The Oaks had brought to the table an iron spine and martial prowess. It had been an excellent match.
He was thinking about those suits of armor when something occurred to him. He stood up straight, tearing his eyes away from the fountain and the hedges.
Fable blinked, looking back towards the door. He couldn’t see it, of course, for the forest of full shelves between him and it, but it was the thought that counted. He grinned and navigated back through them, the pieces coming together at last.
Paradise was waiting for him. The batpony in foreign silk, his one good eye watching his master, was still. He made no movements, nor gave any outward sign, and yet Fable felt like he was waiting for something.
“Bondspony.”
“Yes, my young master?” He stiffened, coming to attention, and for a brief second Fable was amazed that he could stand even more stiffly than he had been. Paradise was full of surprises.
“Saddle Street is forbidden me by the Lady of my House, is this correct?”
“You say true.”
If anything, Fable’s grin widened. “Say, perhaps—and this is just hypothetical—I were to simply... give Saddle Street a rather wide berth. Would it not be technically alright for me to go out? All the way down to the lowest level of the city?”
“Yes.”
“Ha!” Fable crowed, turning in a little manic circle of glee. “Excellent! Let’s be off, Paradise! There are plenty of good dives off the best and well-trod path. Adventure!”
The bat pony sighed and his ears flicked. The young Rowan-Oak glanced over his shoulder, halting mid-dance, but could only see the eye hidden by an eyepatch. Fable turned back, sensing that he had missed something.
“It took you far too long, young master.”
He huffed. “In my defense, Para, my mother was far less specific with me.”
“Details. Details are important, young master. If you are going to be leading your House’s ponies-at-arms, you must learn to pay attention.”
Fable scowled. “I suppose.”
“But yes, if you must go I will accompany you,” the bondspony said gruffly, and pushed the door behind him open.
And like magic, the young Rowan-Oak’s good cheer returned. The smile that had faltered on his face once again blossomed. “Perfect! You really have to learn to have fun, Para! Off we go.” With a quick trot out of the library, Fable left his boredom behind. The batpony sighed and followed him out.
Spike
Spike wasn’t sure what he felt.
On one hand, Luna had treated him like an equal, or at least someone who could be an equal with time and he appreciated it. He felt like perhaps she understood what he was feeling, now that Twilight was gone. On the other, his skin was crawling. Well, it would be, if he had softer mammalian skin. Which he didn’t. Ponies didn’t realize how much idioms like that didn’t work for him, and it was sometimes a bit frustrating. Oh well.
It wasn’t the night. He had nightvision that was almost preternatural and so the night didn’t bother him in the slightest. It wasn’t the cold, for even the breeze that whistled through the hedges was countered by the dragonfire that burned in his belly. It wasn’t Luna, because even when her voice seemed grave he still felt that sense of conspiratorial inclusion. That the secrets were his secrets. It was not Luna that bothered him.
If he had to put a claw on it, it was what Luna talked about. The implications of it, and what he saw in his mind’s eye.
“And all of this... wheeling and dealing, it’s just... continuing?” he asked, scowling. “There’s nothing you can do?”
“I didn’t say it quite that way, Spike. I have not been able to do anything as of yet.”
“Twilight didn’t tell me as much as I thought she had, about the Houses,” Spike said aloud, and wondered why. He supposed she had been trying to shield him from it. It annoyed him. He understood, but...
“Do not think harshly of her,” Luna cut in. They paused before another statue, and Spike looked around and realized that he had never been here before.
Where are we? Center of the maze? We’ve been walking a while.
Luna continued. “It is a tangled web that the ponies of High Canterot have woven. I do not blame her for keeping some of it from you. To be honest, Twilight herself floundered like a foal learning to swim. She was trained in scholarship, not in politics. The sea of noble opinion has not been such since I was much, much younger.”
The little box clearing they found themselves in was small for a full-sized alicorn and a teenage dragon, but it was enough. Spike felt rather large, more so than usual, and it occured to him in this place how small ponies really were. A swish of his tail, and the hedge came down. How fragile the ponies were, the creatures that had seemed so large when he was a child. How fragile the things they made!
“What are you going to do?” he asked.
Luna regarded him. Their eyes met, and Spike felt the urge to look down. He ignored it, feeling like this was important, that he should look her in the eyes and listen.
“I am not entirely sure. There are several courses of action. Most of them involve you.”
“So it’s me that’ll be doing the... um, doing,” he said lamely, feeling like an idiot. Eloquent. Real silver tongue there, Spike.
Luna chuckled and graced him with a smile. “Yes. We will iron the details out in the coming days, but I would have you as my knight. As my scalpel, my blade. My flame to put to their designs and make of them kindling.”
Spike groaned. “And how exactly am I going to do that?”
And Luna’s smile became something else. Something that finally did make Spike feel a little cold.
“However you can.”