//------------------------------// // Think Unsexy Thoughts // Story: A Mark Of Appeal // by Estee //------------------------------// To Celestia, it felt like the lead-in for what was almost guaranteed to wind up as a singularly unfunny joke, the sort of thing which occasionally took the center of the Solar throne room during her own open sessions and never made it onto the comedy tour afterwards: 'How many Princesses does it take to write a letter?' In this case, the answer seemed to be something over one. With Luna finally collapsed into some form of sleep -- an exceptionally movement-filled one which had briefly renewed Celestia's old wish for the ability to visit other nightscapes just before bringing on the blush as she considered exactly what might be found there -- the elder sister had resumed her normal duties: a session of the Day Court followed by a scheduled meeting with the minotaur ambassador over lowering the tariffs in both directions across their borders. (Progress was being made -- by them. Getting the Mazein Senate to cooperate with their agreements was proving rather more difficult.) Then there had been a teleport to Cloudsdale because the mayor there insisted on personally being told just why her city hadn't been chosen to host the recent eclipse and apparently wasn't willing to take "Because not only would I have had to adjust the Sun's path, but everypony who isn't a pegasus gets tired of your unofficial city motto: 'Visit scenic Cloudsdale -- for all of two seconds'," for an answer unless it was coming directly from Celestia's mouth, and that had just led to another rant about why pegasus cities so seldom got the Games and how could the Empire possibly be up for them this time around, they didn't have the facilities for the air events and their own sports -- well, who even knew what those were, not to mention if wings helped best all others while playing them, it was anti-pegasus discrimination and everypony knew it... Celestia had gone through all of it as part of a more-or-less normal day, right up to the mayor's sudden silence upon being asked when the pegasus technique which would work like a cloudwalking spell would finally be available. But she'd been -- distracted. No more than eighty percent of her attention had been focused on anything. She'd been thinking about... ...the water had been every bit as cold as she'd remembered. It had helped. A little. However, it hadn't done anything to prevent relapses and while her own abilities were perfectly suited to speed-drying her coat, a number of brief absences had needed explaining away. She'd found herself entering verbal repeats on the third attempt. But now, with her official duties finished for the day and some time remaining before she could reunite with her sister to truly begin work on the problem, Celestia had an hour to herself -- probably more, given that Luna was still determined to wrap up the lost eight minutes from the open Lunar session and that was just begging to run into all kinds of overtime. And so she'd started with what had felt like the most necessary step: the tracking of Joyous' family. The Canterlot Archives hadn't been much help. Census data recorded a pony's location when the survey was taken -- but not how long they intended to stay, let alone where they were going next. Celestia generally took a full census every three years, and the next was still ten moons away. As of that last count -- made sometime after Joyous had fled -- her parents had been in the desert, examining the movement patterns of the dry winds in preparation for any pegasus settlement which might follow the earth pony ones (and still hadn't, although Celestia expected something within the next two years). But they hadn't stayed there. Their last tax forms showed them closer to the west coast -- but they hadn't stayed there either. And those papers also revealed them to be independent contractors, which left her with no regular employer to contact and discover their location through. She wanted to let them know that their only child was at the castle, under her direct attention and care. That she was working on the problem -- an issue which Joyous' parents must have known about to some degree, or at least so Celestia hoped. There was so much that she was hoping, and part of that centered around settling the minds of those ponies, letting them know their daughter had been found, that they could stop searching... and there had been a search: Joyous' disappearance had been reported to local law enforcement. Those ponies hadn't been able to do much with it: trying to track a young endurance flier -- one who had much less reluctance than the average pegasus about leaving the air paths and going through wild zones -- was typically a good way to get one's futility some little-wanted exercise. She's alive. She's with me. She's safe under my wings. Celestia badly wanted to tell them that. But she didn't know where they were. She'd sent out messages, told police departments all over the continent to be on the lookout -- which would mean nothing if Joyous' parents were currently surveying another wild zone. And that meant her last resort was a letter -- one she couldn't be sure would even arrive. Oh, she'd taught Spike well -- to the point where the student now outperformed the teacher. Celestia could send a letter using a modified version of Spike's system, one which required no dragon flame at all. But her version had a requirement attached: she generally had to know the recipient -- and the better she knew that party, the stronger the chance of the letter coming through. Celestia could reach Spike anywhere in the world simply due to the hours they'd spent together in his private lessons -- but Spike could target ponies he'd never met in locations the little dragon had never been to. He worried about such letters, he was eternally concerned about fumbles and the embarrassment or worse they might cause --- but the worst he'd ever done was send a message meant for her to Luna, and he'd been stressed to the point of terror at the time. For that effect, Spike could do more than Celestia. She could put the letter into the aether -- but with two ponies she'd never met, there was no guarantee it would ever emerge on the other end. Still, until somepony could find them, it was all she had. And so she was working on that letter. This was the ninth draft. Dear Mrs. and Mrs. Release, First: your daughter is safe. She is currently with me in Canterlot. I am keeping her close. I will know exactly where she is at all times. I will not let her leave my side. If I have to sleep in her -- No. Her field crumpled the paper, brought a fresh sheet into view. Please be assured that I have no improper intentions towards her. I shall retain royal decorum and Princessly protocol at all times. You may recall the formal series of announcements which preceded the wedded union of Princess Cadance and Shining Armor: should you not see any such thing regarding myself and Joyous, you will know nothing is happening between us. Naturally, this also means you would be the first to hear about the wedd -- Take eleven. ...I realize you may have certain fears regarding this, but I believe I can answer all of them. For starters, I am quite aware of my sheer physical size and all the ways it could potentially create difficulties within the Royal Bedroom. Be assured that over the centuries, I have carefully planned out methods of getting around every last one of them. While I will not include diagrams here, such exist, have never been seen by the general public and if I have anything to say about it, never will be. But they are actually rather simple to memorize and I'm certain a degree of improvisation can be added on the fly. Which, as your daughter happens to be a pegasus (and the most beautiful one I've ever had the honor to see in my lifetime, something I hope truly impresses you both when you fully consider all of the implications), we may be able to render quite literal -- Celestia blinked. Reread the entire thing. Went between. Seconds later, a second flash of light bounced off the gold inlays of the Solar Throne room, and the cold water dripping from her coat ran across the marble to soak through all the discarded drafts, which was going to make it slightly harder to dispose of the evidence later through the usual route of setting it all on fire. A distinctly avian snicker came from overhead. "You," she told Philomena, "aren't helping." The phoenix regarded her with an expression which indicated help had never been any part of the plan. Celestia sighed and, not for the first time, contemplated a future where she was just about eternally stuck with a pet who was essentially Angel Bunny with wings, extra centuries of prodding experience, somewhat improved long-term planning skills, and a nastier sense of humor. "You know you can be replaced, right?" That got her something closer to snigger than snicker, with little licks of flame punctuating the sound. The phoenix knew she would never do it -- as did Celestia. The most they ever did was prank each other, and that with something considerably less than mercy. But... "You should be familiar with the problem," Celestia added. "Phoenixes go into heat and no, I don't care about the pun. I remember the last time you couldn't focus on anything except finding a male -- not to mention my having to track you down across two-thirds of the continent when you ultimately decided the only place to look was around your own original birth nest. Doesn't that give you any perspective on this?" Philomena spread her wings, looked down at Celestia from the elevated perch -- then glanced at the discarded letters. And with the near-precognition that came from having owned the same pet across an ocean of time and knowing just how the bird's mind worked, Celestia internally conjured the image of the approaching swoop, grab, and delivery to the Lunar wing, indelicately dropped onto her sister's face in just the right way to both spread the paper and wake her sibling up... Celestia shrugged and turned away from her companion. "I'm running low on paper," she wearily noted aloud, ignoring the shifting shadows as Philomena's generated light started to move with the phoenix. No answer. Naturally. It would have distracted Philomena from lining up the attack angle. "And," Celestia peacefully added, "quills." Her field lanced backwards. "Would this be the part where you once again explain the joys of animal companionship and advise me to consider seeking out something suitable?" Celestia blew a final burst of soot from her nostrils: it settled onto a Moon-lit white lily. "Not really... okay, stop smirking: let's go over what we have so far." Luna sighed. "If we must," and took her own bench in the gardens, her position almost exactly matching that of her sibling. (They were not using the Trottingham section this time: the San Dineighgo portion had been mutually, silently chosen -- and both were trying a little too hard not to think about that.) "I see very little reason to run a full tally of rejected concepts, however. We already know what it is not and the things which will not work. Reciting them hardly accomplishes anything beyond a waste of time." "It may jog our memories as to something we're overlooking," Celestia replied. "Checklists exist for a reason, Luna -- and part of that is seeing what you forgot to cross off. You first?" "And the rest is driving your student to a rather unique level of distraction," Luna grumbled -- then brightened. "Sister -- do you wish to involve her in this? A third perspective could not hurt, and all we would have to do is send her our notes -- actual contact with Joyous should not be required in any way. There would be no additional --" and she visibly bit off the word 'rival' just in time, lips already in position for the first syllable, breath stopped a split-second before final commitment. Celestia's mind tried to conjure an image of Twilight and Joyous in the same room together and succeeded. Then it tried to advance into 'Twilight excited about something which isn't magic, a new book, research, or a Very Important Lesson' and promptly rebelled against one of the most unlikely resulting imaginary seduction scenarios to come along in more than a thousand years. No, Twilight would not decide foreplay somehow meant writing on her. Not with anything other than the finest of quills and most delicate of field movements... and Celestia wrenched herself away from the waking dream before it could fully add the reference texts, lettered experts standing by within the room to advise on technique, and careful loving application of the check-out stamp. "I don't want Twilight involved in this." "Why not? She does not have anything near our experience, but this is most likely an issue of magic. Potentially the deepest magic known to ponies. Bringing in the current Element of Magic could hardly hurt, as long as we take steps to keep her -- from anything she -- potentially cannot..." Luna's voice trailed off. Her expression suggested her own internal scenario had just reached the sensuous opening of the card catalog. "I don't want Twilight studying mark magic," Celestia firmly said. "Not unless there's no other choice. She's already going to be skirting the borders of it with --" and it took two incredibly audible seconds before she could force herself to continue "-- that spell." Two words which raised the overall temperature in the gardens by five degrees and put several of the closer, more delicate blooms on the verge of wilting. They also made Luna sigh. "Sister, we both have the same bad memories -- but she is not --" "-- I don't want her in on this," Celestia insisted. "I know who she is, Luna -- and who she isn't. But that is still the last topic I want her investigating. There are certain things she's not ready for." "And you will continue to insist on that despite all evidence to the contrary," Luna dryly responded. "You are not being reasonable, sister. I can hear it within your voice. Can you?" So? "She's my student, Luna. When I want her to study that, she will. She's not ready. I'm not only the final judge of when it'll be time for her to investigate the subject, I'm the only one, and you're not going to --" "-- are you aware of how loudly you are speaking at this moment?" "It. Is. Not. Going. To. Happen!" They both waited for the echoes to die away, and not just those of the thunder. "...I'm sorry," Celestia finally sighed. "I just -- it's not time, Luna..." "You are afraid." A plain statement. The silence pressed down on them, added its own weight to that of memory and a pain the years had done nothing to weaken. "...yes." Luna nodded, just once. "And I -- am not. Because Twilight Sparkle -- is exactly that: Twilight Sparkle. No matter what you might fear in your heart of hearts, Tia... in the end, she will be exactly herself. But as you say -- your student. So for now, I will accept your judgment. I simply ask you to remember where that verdict truly comes from -- and thus to realize that should we fail, the judge in the case may wish to recuse herself for being too close to the subject." Celestia shifted slightly on her personal bench, one of those she'd had placed in the gardens simply so there would be a few scattered pieces large enough for her to actually use in comfort. Stared up at the Moon. "This is part of why I need you, you know." Luna smiled. "A touch more specific, perhaps?" "Somepony has to tell me when I'm being stupid. All right, Luna -- if we completely run out of options, I'll think about bringing her in. But not before. Give me that much. I don't want to face this until I absolutely have to." The younger sibling nodded. "Agreed. But should we be at the point of that last resort --" "-- we take it," Celestia reluctantly finished. "But for now, let's go over the rest." "Very well," Luna conceded. "But as little as I wish to begin with one particular subject -- you have brought it up. And therefore, I would like to remove it from the list immediately." The next two words were spat. "That spell. Is there any chance that this is the place it can finally do something other than damage?" Which got Celestia to sigh. "I still can't cast it. Admittedly, I never tried that hard while you were -- away. Or at all. I didn't want to study it too closely... it was almost leaving that last bit of dignity intact, Luna, a way of honoring who he'd been before... But I don't know how it works. I don't know how it creates those side effects -- making everypony for acres around think the new was always the true, just for starters. As it currently exists in its flawed or incomplete form, depending on whether you still think it's broken or just unfinished --" an argument they'd had in the deep past "-- it is a spectacular abomination of a failure. And it won't help. Even if one of us mastered it now, we'd still need a second pony, a volunteer to be switched -- and it would be like the first time. The marks transfer and -- the important part this time around -- the talents are driven into latency. But the first situation which would require that buried talent to be expressed starts unraveling the working and brings it all back. Somehow find that volunteer, learn how to cast the spell -- and then we'd still need to keep her away from any situation where sex appeal would be of benefit for the rest of her life. Which is an isolation level equal to what she had already. I would consider using it if I thought it would do any good, Luna -- but it won't. At most, we'd buy her a few days, even at the risk and cost of casting that -- thing." A slow nod. "I had thought we could keep her away from such situations -- but you are right: it is not realistic. An isolated life with no hope for connection or contact, using that spell as a solution, would only lead to the same." Celestia nodded. "Well," she dryly added, "now we know how seriously we're both taking this. Mutual independent consideration of actually pulling out the single worst possible magical option." Luna shifted a little on her own bench, stretched her wings. "So let us move on to the lesser offenses. Magic which directly affects marks. I had little time to research any changes which might have been made to the more basic spells, but I assume nothing had been developed which masks the mark and suppresses the talent? In the early part of our mutual time, the best one could do was hide their mark for a few minutes with great personal effort -- and such did nothing to stop the magic." "It's almost the same," Celestia conceded. "The mark resists. It won't let itself be hidden: dyes drip away, blending potions wear off. Clothing covers and doesn't trigger counters -- but the talent remains untouched. There has been one new development and after hearing what you just said, I know you haven't seen it yet, but..." She sighed. "It's almost useless." Luna's ears perked. "Tell me, sister. Anything we could do... something we might be able to refine..." Celestia took a deep breath, let a familiar face come into inner vision, at least for as long as it could block out that of Joyous. "There was a very talented researcher, seven centuries ago. Kalziver. You would have liked him, Luna -- he always saw the impossible as his starting point." There had been a time when Celestia had felt that he might have been -- but if that had been true, it had never worked out. "He recognized that in times of battle against other ponies whose marks were for warfare, their best weapon was the mark itself -- having their internal magic channeled into boosting their fighting skills, the ability to both strategize and change plans faster than the opposition could adjust, use intuitions which occurred to nopony else, and everything else that came with a battle mark. So he put his own skills against the impossible -- and found a means to take that weapon away." Luna blinked, leaned forward, wings quivering. "He discovered a method for negating a mark?" A simple "Yes," began the response. "It's one of the most difficult spells there is, Luna -- but it works. It severs the connection between a pony and their magic -- at least for the magic of the mark itself. Use it on a unicorn and they can still marshal their field: it's just the talent which vanishes." Although Celestia had wondered what would happen if the spell were to be cast on Twilight. "The mark is still there -- but for the duration of the spell, it means nothing. Cast this on a pony whose talent is battle and suddenly, they're just like everypony else at that general skill level: no special advantages, no magical insight -- and if they were relying on the mark too much, or can't adjust..." "So -- why is it almost useless? It sounds if it is ideal, sister. Is this one of those rumored and previously unknown spells which for some ridiculous reason requires strange ingredients and nonsensical incantations, neither of which is available to us?" "No. Any caster strong and careful enough to use it just has to learn the feel of it." "Then why is it not our solution?" "I've never seen it take less than the full triple corona --" "-- we can be isolated and safe from backlash when we cast it --" "-- it's incredibly hard to do --" "-- I have faith in both your skill and my own ability to learn --" "-- and the longest I've ever been able to make it last was ninety-eight seconds." Luna blinked. "Ninety-eight seconds." "Yes." "With your strength." "Most ponies who can work it just barely make it hold for twelve. And then the pain sets in. The headache is like nothing you've ever felt, Luna, like a double-side migraine got together with the worst hangover of your life and they both took classes from the world's only three-hour brain freeze. It's magical blasphemy, almost as much as -- that spell. It's denial of -- everything we are. And going against ourselves on that level has a price. But Kalziver understood that there were times when we'd need that level of last resort -- so I let him create the working and studied it myself. I've had to use it a few times. It's effective. It does what it has to. The Severance is the last resort, Luna, because after you use it, you won't be doing much of anything else. And for me -- it lasts ninety-eight seconds." They looked at each other across the orchids. "And that is the pinnacle of reliable, controllable, consistent mark-affecting magic," Luna not quite asked. "Yes," Celestia replied. "Kalziver was a genius, Luna. Nopony else has been able to advance his theories. Most don't even understand them. Honestly, there were times when he lost me about two hours in..." A light breeze shifted the flowers, ruffled through their coats. Luna had seen no need to raise a shield for the night meeting: her own Guards had no concerns about leaving them alone together, and there were considerably fewer ponies about under Moon. It left the wind free to move through their discussion, and both felt it shifting the fur which made up the surface level of their marks. "Very well," Luna finally went on. "I examined her for magic myself and found nothing. I had thought somepony who was exceptionally cruel might have found a way to perform some variation of Want It-Need It on a living being, but there was not a single lingering thaum of such a working present." Celestia winced: the spell had started as one of her least favorites and had gone even lower in her personal rankings after The Smarty Pants Incident. All of the Bearers had been suffering from at least a degree of post-traumatic stress following the recovery from Discord's inversions, she'd recognized that afterwards, she should have been watching all of them more closely... and once that one wondrous Nightmare Night had taken place, multiple visits from Luna to all of their nightscapes over the course of several weeks had been required before things had been truly put right. She'd just been so proud of them -- and that pride had blinded her to the warnings of memory. "Still inanimate objects only. Trying to install the resonance for desire and want into a pony so the luring emotions will radiate out... at most, the direct target feels them for a few seconds and nopony else gets anything." "Good," Luna firmly said. The spell wasn't exactly high on her personal workings love list either. "My next thought was disease. We know it is not cutie pox -- she would have succumbed a long time ago. But it is the only thing I could remember which would force the constant practice of a talent. Perhaps -- a variant on the illness, where only a single false mark appears and the pony with the sickness is not made to perform to the point of death from exhaustion?" "It's a true mark," Celestia answered. "I tested that when I was in her current quarters. It's not a bad idea to have a doctor examine her, though." Which is another potential rival... ...and she managed to push it back. "Having a talent active at all times, getting stronger -- that could easily be some kind of sickness. Let's just hope it's something from the outside and not -- in the blood." If it was somehow a previously unknown disease of heredity, then there was truly nothing which could be done. "But it's possible, Luna. I can't think of anypony whose talent is constantly active -- and given what cutie pox does, that makes it easy to assume disease." Forcing a small smile, "Even the Cakes don't bake all the time." "They have a pair of foals," Luna dryly noted. "We can safely assume they have worked on a mix together at least once. Very well. We have no instant magical cures at our mutual disposal, no spells or potions to effect an immediate solution. I had pondered another possibility, but -- it is a dark one." If she's talking about -- No, Luna would never go that far. "What's that?" Starkly, "Exile. But not to isolation a second time -- to another of the nations. One without a real pony population, possibly excepting a few expatriates seeking new experiences, a different kind of companionship, or a final means of dodging both the searches of the law and their back taxes. It would largely be a life without true hope of romance -- you know how few marriages take place between different species, sister. That number was in single digits in the first nights and the numbers have scarcely risen since. I would hardly assume Joyous to be one of the few who would follow such a road in the first place. But ultimately, she could still make friends in such a nation. Have an occupation, a home outside a wild zone... It would be a hard life, away from all other ponies, adjusting to a culture not her own, devoid of all hopes for romance and knowing she could never come home. But there would be company. It would simply require a friendly nation and a few words from us to their immigration department. I can think of several places that might welcome her. I simply do not wish to lose --" hastily "-- to send her away from her own place and species -- but if there truly is no cure or help to be found, then at least a life among what would begin as strangers remains a life." Celestia reluctantly nodded. "I'd hate to do it --" and too many reasons for that surged forward, all screaming for attention "-- but it might be the last hope. Keep it at the absolute bottom of the list." "I will not," came the oddly calm reply. "...because?" Because you're running away with her using this as your excuse? "Because there is a test to be made yet. I am working under an assumption -- a decidedly foolish state at the best of times. My final resort assumes that her talent only works with ponies. No animals in her fringe came out to find her, not for reasons other than hunger. But the other intelligent races..." Even to her own restless ears, Celestia's laugh sounded forced. "Luna! Remember what you said a few seconds ago? Guess how many griffon-pony marriages have been registered since Equestria was founded. Go ahead -- guess." Luna shook her head. "A universal key, Tia. I know of at least three locks which sought opening in our mutual early years." "All right," Celestia persisted, half-ignoring Luna's words, "some griffons and ponies date -- mostly in the school years, experimental phases for both -- but to have it last..." "And if there are any who seek such a union," Luna went on, ignoring Celestia's attempt to dismiss the words, "then it means somewhere inside each of those species, the lock may lie in wait. Or perhaps her talent has simply strengthened to the point where it can overcome even that barrier." Firmly, "You're being ridiculous." "I am being rational. You do not write an equation down as a proof until it has been tested." With increasing tension, "Fine. Then we'll test it." "Good." Open frustration. "Perfect." "Tia?" "What?" "Are you upset because I am talking about sending her away? Adding more who might challenge for her affections? Or both?" "You're being --" "-- what position are your wings in at this moment?" Celestia blinked. Glanced down her body length. Kept looking. Luna went on, voice soft. "I continued to dream of her. You have yet to rest. But when you do... I suspect you will find her waiting in your nightscape, as you likely saw her during every quiet moment throughout the day. And I thought of her when I woke, and I am -- trying very hard not to see you as somepony -- in the way. We have to be careful, Tia. It may be a deliberate act to remain rational regarding her -- an act of will both of us must make again and again. You have dealt with this for longer than I, had centuries -- active -- where you were mastering your 'urges'. But at the same time -- there is more built up behind the barriers. We need to watch over each other, sister. But without overreacting. Without bringing our base desires into this. We must be rational beings -- and nothing more." Slowly, carefully, Celestia forced her wings out of the challenge position. It seemed to take more strength than the prior reversion of her mane. Faint wonder rode in the words of the elder. "How are you so calm?" "I --" Luna blushed. "-- did have -- time alone." Celestia couldn't even bring herself to tease. "Practical," was the best she could manage. "Yes," was all she got in response. "All right," Celestia made herself say. "Tomorrow, we'll find a doctor -- somewhere." And shoved back the thoughts of adding somepony else to a battle which shouldn't be allowed to exist. "But for now, I can test part of your equation. Let me go to Joyous --" "-- we will both go." Celestia glared at Luna -- then realized she was doing it, and her gaze softened just enough. "Let's both go to her -- and then we'll make an introduction." "Oh?" (Celestia noted the light tension in the word.) "And just who is she meeting?" "So that's your new envoy, huh?" "Yes, Ambassador Power," said the elder sister. "Nice mare. Kind of skittish, but that's okay. I was her first minotaur ever, right?" "Correct," replied the younger. "I get it. We're kind of hard to get used to. Most ponies pull back a little if they're seeing one of us for the first time. Two legs, the horns, hands... it's like we just walked out of one of your wild zones. I don't take it personally, Sunbutt. Once she's gotten to know me a little better, she'll treat me just like another pony. Same as you do." Celestia silently counted the number of 'just another pony' she would have allowed to openly call her 'Sunbutt' as she did her best to ignore Luna's poorly-suppressed snicker. But Ambassador Power was much like all the other minotaur diplomats she'd hosted since the border between their nations had first opened: direct, straightforward, truthful about whatever he was feeling, and with no regard for any formal title other than the ones he granted. In her case... well, at least this one only used the assigned nickname in (relative) privacy. "It is about exposure, isn't it? I know that when I saw my first from your species..." A distant memory, a powerful one -- and more than a little embarrassing, even now: the one emotion which never seemed to fully fade. "...let's just say it's not quite the way we're talking now." The ambassador grinned. "Yeah, I just bet. Anyway... one more thing about your envoy." "Yes?" asked the younger. "She doin' anything tonight?" And from both siblings in perfect chorus, "...what?" "Because I was just thinking... you know, most of the time when I visit you, I just get stuck in the castle. And then I go back to the embassy or head for home. Sometimes you and me walk around the gardens for a while when we're working things out, but I don't exactly get to enjoy Canterlot, and the rest of Equestria's pretty much a wash. So I was thinking that maybe if she's free, she could -- show me around town a little. A few night spots. Places with high ceilings. Nothing with tankards hanging down: these horns don't have their own eyes. And if the night goes well, maybe I could take her back to the embassy and let her really get used to minotaurs. And as long as you and me are talking -- that smell she gives off... that's some kind of perfume, right? Her favorite? If you could just tell me where to buy her a bottle..." "Twenty minutes. Twenty minutes to go from 'Four legs equals who cares' into looking for a date." Celestia groaned. "I just barely got him out of the castle and he was still asking about her taste in flowers when I shoved him through the last door. He's going to come back tomorrow so we can work on the tariffs a little more and I'm betting he's going to walk in carrying the contents from half of Canterlot's flowershops: two tons of gift bouquets and ten servings of appetizers." Luna's eyes squeezed shut. "I believe we are in trouble." "You think?" The laugh was bitter. "So much for the last resort... maybe there's an immune race out there, but unless we run through every last embassy plus those who haven't applied for one yet and find a miracle in some dusty corner, I'm guessing we can't even send her out of the country. What's the next no-hope plan?" "We have research we can still do," Luna reminded her. "The dusty corners we need to search first are those in the Canterlot Archives. There is still the doctor to consult. And beyond that -- I believe we may need to add one more to our forces." "I'm not involving Twilight yet," Celestia insisted. "It hasn't gone that far --" "-- no. Not your student: I will honor your wishes there for as long as I can. But in one aspect, we are arguably dealing with a trotting incarnation of lust. And whose magic might be better suited to deal with that than the pony who embodies the other face of the coin?" "...Luna?" "Yes?" "Remember when you told me seeing Joyous by myself was a bad idea?" A very dry "Rather clearly." "What do you think is going to happen if we get Love and Lust in the same room?" The verbal steadiness felt like a deliberate coating of ice over the heat of concern -- among other things. "I know of but one way to find out." Celestia took a slow breath. "Under the one hoof, Luna -- I've been trying to leave her alone. The Empire needs to get used to the idea of their new ruler -- and that she is that ruler, by herself, without any influence or interference from us. Giving her initial solitude and a chance to try on her own reinforces that image. She needs a honeymoon period to establish herself, as much as any such thing could exist at all." "And under one of the other hooves?" Luna inquired. Three alicorns trying to stop one mark. That was the best way to look at it -- and even that held too much in it, starting with the implications that she and Luna wouldn't be enough, the Archives would come up empty, the potential shadows of history would yield to neither sun nor moonlight, and the Diarchy ultimately could do nothing more than gallop for help. But towards the darker end of the scale... Three alicorns fighting over one pony? ...one of their citizens needed help. "Under another hoof..." Celestia sighed. "...the first truth of being a ruling Princess is that the honeymoon never even starts. I'll send the warning letter before I retire for the night." And had to deal with whatever would be waiting in her own nightscape. "But if we can't help Joyous through Archive-digging and the doctor can't diagnose and cure this -- we're heading to Cadance."