“Hello?”
I stand on the doorstep of twenty-one twenty-one, Shetland Street, with a strange Pegasus in front of me. The Pegasus has a dark grey coat and deep blue mane. The same Pegasus is also…
“A mare?”
I quickly cover my mouth with my hooves, once I realize I said that aloud. The mare who called herself Swiftwing is taken aback by the question: her ears flatten while her eyes widen, her mouth hangs open in surprise. After a minute of me staring uncomprehendingly at her, she speaks.
“Yes... And you are?”
My mouth snaps shut, as I remember my reason for being here. I clear my throat.
“Y-yes, my name is Happytune. I was put in charge of investigating Applejack’s disappearance. I understand you were dating her, is this true?”
On closer inspection, it looks like she was crying; though she had wiped away her tears, her muzzle and eyes were rather moist and I can make out about thirteen tissues in the wastebasket. ‘Swiftwing’ responds:
“Yes, this is true.”
She gestures with a hoof for me to come inside and I accept, stepping in to her, rather messy, house. I sit down on the sofa provided, while she goes into the next room and procures a glass of water. She sits down with the glass and I speak again.
“Tell me about her.”
She takes a slow sip from her glass and responds.
“W-well she is a very nice, hardworking, pretty, mare. S-she is loving, kind, she was always b-by my s-siiiddee.”
She breaks down in tears. She puts particular emphasis on the is’s in that sentence, as if thinking that through willpower she can ensure Applejack’s safety.
Truly an impressive display. Almost believable.
I speak again, trying not to let the coldness of my thoughts seep into my voice. I have not forgotten what Swiftwing and the dissidents did to Celestia. Whoever this mare is, she calls herself Swiftwing. It is likely she is involved.
“When was the last time you saw her?”
I ask. After a few minutes of her sobbing into her hooves, she looks up and swallows.
“It was the fourth of August.”
She says.
Applejack disappeared on the seventh. A three day gap is quite the convenient number, both not enough time apart for anyone to get suspicious and not too close to the day she went missing. She is quite good.
I nod and speak again.
“What did you do?”
I ask. Her eyebrows knit together, furrowed in concentration. She smiles gently and responds.
“I told her off. That’s what I did.”
She speaks rather slowly. My eyebrows go up in surprise. She smiles some more and brushes away some tears.
“Why?”
I ask.
“Because she missed our date.”
My left eyebrow moves up.
“Date?”
I ask.
“Yeah, we had made reservations to le café de blanc but when she was supposed to pick me up she wasn’t there. When I went to her house, she was eating with her family. Needless to say, I was furious; so, I told her off right in front of Granny Smith, Big Macintosh, and Applebloom.”
She explains.
Interesting…
“Do you know the significance of August third, to Applejack?”
I ask, expectantly.
“I’m afraid not. When I asked what it was on her calendar, she just said she was busy that day with personal matters. Sorry.”
I nod, slowly.
Personal matters… I wonder what that means…
“Is that all?”
She asks. I stand up and walk over to the door.
“Just one more thing.”
I say. She nods. I drop my illusion to reveal my divine stature. She steps back with her mouth agape. I open mine.
“I hereby place you under arrest, in the name of Princess Celestia, Princess of the sun, for conspiracy… and treason.”
She nods. Her head droops to the floor and she follows me out the door, in perfect, unnerving, silence. I escort her to Canterlot castle by guard carriage, trying to draw as little attention to her arrest as possible. Despite her obvious connection to the dissidents, I feel sorry for this mare and I actually believe that she loves Applejack. I must arrest her, but I don’t need to disgrace her in front of the whole town.
* * *
After the guards take her to a cell, I attend court to see how Twilight is doing. I talk to some of the guards that were present during her court sessions and find that, while shaky at first, Princess Twilight is doing well in her temporary duties.
Well, that is something at least.
I trot towards the Canterlot Archives; it has been many years since I have seen an inactive rune, much less an active one. Perhaps there are books on it in the Archive, at least, I hope there is. I take in the familiar and the unfamiliar, the sights, sounds, ponies; visiting the Archives at dusk is a much different experience than my excursion previously. I lower the sun and raise the moon, making the transition officially to night. I sigh. Why can’t Celestia be here? I don’t know how to run a kingdom. I look down at my hooves.
I don’t know how to do much of anything.
I hear a noise: a shuffling noise, there is something shuffling around in the darkness of the Archives. I extend my wings and a flap brings me to the window, I hear the shuffling from. I peer into the darkness, cutting through it with my keen night vision. Applejack, Applejack is the one in the darkness. I see her stealing books from off the shelves. By looking closer I see both that she has the same rune on her forehead that Celestia had, glowing with an evil power, and that the books she is trying to steal are various texts on magical combat.
That’s right: the Runemaster did not know any combat spells when he had Celestia fight me so now he has to remedy that.
Applejack begins her exit, bags laden with knowledge. I bend the magic around and within me, to form a net of energy which I then launch at the Runemaster, in Applejack’s skin. The Runemaster turns around and grins, easily sidestepping my spell by jumping behind a bookcase. I hear trotting, but see nopony; the Runemaster hides behind these shelves of ancient text. I hear Applejack’s voice, echoing through the nearly empty archives.
“Do you know who I am, Princess?”
I cannot tell where the voice originates from. Some kind of echo spell was cast.
It seems we are not alone.
I have to keep him talking, so I can find Applejack.
“You are a dissident to the crown. I think you should know I have one of your members locked up somewhere. She goes by Swiftwing Silver… do you know her?”
My lips curl up, into a small smile. I have forced his hand; now the dissidents can either leave her in prison, try and break her out, or surrender. It is your move Runemaster, make it wisely. Fierce, harsh, laughter echoes all around me with a wicked sincerity.
“My, you are way off, now aren't you?”
My blood runs cold in my body. I look around for any sign of Applejack’s location, but see none. Then, I feel something; something doesn't belong, and it is right behind that bookcase over there. I trot over to it, as if I am asleep and, with a pull of magic, the bookcase abandons Applejack, who was moving silently behind it. I grasp Applejack, with my magic, as she struggles with me; then, a blast of kinetic force knocks me over, weakening my grip, so Applejack can break free. I look over to see who fired the blast and see my sweet sister Celestia, looking at me, eyes and rune ablaze.
Before I can give chase, Applejack topples a bookcase onto me, just as Celestia increases the gravity in the room. The force of the books knocks me through the second story floor, into the first story floor, crushing my bones into slippery dust. I scream in pure agony, my voice carrying, through my broken mouth, into the town. I hear Celestia take off, from the window of the second story floor, presumably, with Applejack on her back. I sigh, and lie down on the cold, ceramic, tiles.
I lost again. What am I supposed to do?
* * *
I walk through the marble halls of the Canterlot Castle, with my head hung low. I see various night workers cleaning, making repairs, and even supervising those cleaning or doing repairs. I also see Princess Twilight trotting towards me, an anxious look on her face.
“Princess, look at you. What happened?”
I look down at myself, and see that I am covered in scratches and bruises, my mane is disheveled, and partly missing in the place it was hit by Celestia’s spell; though quickly healing, I have some time before the wounds from this battle go away, and my previous battle wounds haven’t left, completely. I look up at Princess Twilight’s concerned face, and wince when I move my jaw to reply.
“Y-you heard about my fight with the Runemaster, did you not?”
Twilight nods.
“Yes. Did… oh Celestia, did that happen again?”
Now it was my turn to nod. I try to speak again, but only manage to cough up some blood onto the floor. Twilight rubs my back with a hoof until I am finished. Twilight calls some guards over, and I hear something akin to ‘take her to her room and make sure she gets some sleep’. I find it harder and harder to hear her, however, and before long the guards pick me up and carry me to my bed, while I fall into a deep sleep.
Waning Crescent
I smile and nod at this, his latest in a string of rather unfunny jokes. I take a drink, from a passing waiter, in my magic and excuse myself. The presence of the illustrious Benedict Blueblood does not make me quite as flustered, as I suppose it should. No matter. I know Celestia will make an appearance; this is the first Grand Galloping Gala after all, and I am wearing the perfect outfit: that of noblemare Patrician, of the palace elite.
My, this will be fun.
I exchange pleasantries with some more guests and, eventually, make my way to the front. At the door, a special guest just arrived, namely, my beloved sister Celestia. I bow very low, to mask the wide smile on my face. Celestia smiles, but I know her too well; she is quite afraid of Nightmare Moon. She is afraid of me.
I call up the memories of Patrician, to see when the last time she saw Celestia was.
Well, it looks like she was at the palace during my attack with Lanternmane, sleeping with a stablehoof. Looks like Lady Patrician does not have quite so high standards, after all.
I exchange some pleasantries with Celestia, and I tell her that there was a very strange thing I saw, today, that I think she might be interested in, for it involves Nightmare Moon. Celestia’s eyes widen, as she, so predictably, takes the bait. She gives her speech on how happy she is that everypony could attend, and afterwards I lead her to a different room in the Palace.
My palace.
I shut the door behind me, as I walk in with Celestia. She turns to me and speaks plainly and to the point.
“What is it you saw?”
Celestia truly is a master of subtlety. I take a slow sip from my glass of champagne and swirl the contents around for a minute, looking at them intently. Then, I speak in a voice slightly high pitched, yet not quite annoying to listen to.
“Well, you see, I was in the washroom, getting ready for tonight, when I heard some ponies outside the door talking about Nightmare Moon.”
I pause here, and take another sip of the elegant drink, I carry in my magic. When Celestia sees that I will not continue, she asks for more:
“What did they say?”
She asks. I scrunch my forehead together, as if in deep thought.
This is my favorite part.
“They said they agreed with what she was doing. And, they said something about her attacking you tonight.”
I raise my voice, in faux alarm, adding in a slight gasp, to complete the ensemble. Celestia stands, stock still, in complete shock at what she just heard. I am not going to attack her tonight; I am having much too much fun, toying with her, for that. I bow to her motionless body again, and take my leave.
“I just thought you should know, goodnight Princess.”
When I make it to the gates I laugh, clutching at the gate posts.
I simply must do that again sometime.
I think to myself. I bring the body of Lady Patrician back to her home and into bed. If she questions why she doesn’t remember most of today, her servants will say that she came home exceptionally drunk last night and that will be that.
I will not dispose of her body, not yet anyway; if she were to die now, Celestia would be disinclined to believe what she said to her, and we cannot have that can we? With a flick of my magic I disinhabit the Lady Patricians body, and leave her to a deep, dreamless, sleep.
Waxing Crescent
I awake, with a start. Cold sweat comes off of my body, in tiny streams, while my tears join them. I feel a foreign presence in the room and know that I am not alone. I look around the room and see him, kneeling at the hoof of my bed: Swiftwing Silver, the stallion Swiftwing, of course. He raises his head, and looks at me with a cold stare.
“I hear you have Swiftwing Silver locked up somewhere.”
He steps onto my bed, and presses his forehead against mine, looking directly into my eyes.
“I want her back.”