//------------------------------// // Revelations // Story: Somber Ties // by Mobytums //------------------------------// “Thank you, Vanilla. You are dismissed.” A quick curtsy in deference, a soft click of the door in its jamb, and Vanilla could breathe again. The mare leaned exhaustedly onto the support of one of the open hallway’s pillars. She sagged as her barrel inflated with weary breaths, her shoulder sending her messages of approval as it pressed into the pillar’s cool firmness. Enjoyable as it was, the slight pleasure only brought to light the rest of her protesting body’s aches and pains. And her day was still far from over. The Millennial Fair was fast approaching, and milady was leaving no stone unturned or painstakingly polished in her house’s preparations for her departure to the capital. Vanilla mused that her hooves had crossed every square inch available in the expansive, wooded estate. One minute spent delivering orders to the platoons of overworked gardeners who she’d swear were brandishing their pruning shears in a most threatening manner, and the next would be interviewing the captain of the guard. There was also the celebratory feast to be looked after, but one hoof inside the saucy sauna and she’d been tossed out on her flank by the spoon-wielding chef. And of course, there were the decorations to consider. All of them rather bedazzling affairs of magically suspended crystal scattered throughout the halls like captured stars. Their presence left the air aglitter with a kind of magic that brought a tear to the eye and a hint of joy in the appreciative gasps of ponies young and old. Torc had even been so determined to leave a good impression that she’d purchased a large crystal replica of the palace, complete with its own moonstone carved into a floating crystal heart suspended in its center. Which, of course, had been made out of dozens of delicate, interlocking pieces of clear quartz that had taken her and the other hoofmaidens the better part of the morning to assemble in the courtyard. And which had left an abysmally thorough cramping in her neck. Notwithstanding affairs of the occasion, ponies from all over the forested region came to wish lady Torc well on her trip to the heart of the Empire. The guards had been near trampled by jovial craftsmares, workponies and business stallions alike as they moved to show encouragement to their representative in the tradition. It was the first time Lady Torc had stepped hoof outside her estate in many days, and it had lifted Vanilla’s spirits to see the citizen’s excitement as Torc greeted them, a small smile on her lips. Vanilla had been in Lady Torc’s employ long enough to have heard and seen many things in that time. Often were the occasions when she would overhear complaints from ponies who had met with her mistress. Harsh, insensitive, cold: these had been words used in description. What Vanilla knew these ponies failed to realize however, was that Milady was a workhorse, plain and simple. Raised by orderly and dutiful parents, and gifted with a similar mindset that she had carried into adulthood, she had very particular quirks. Amber Torc put her responsibilities before all else, she saw nothing in her life of higher importance than her duty to the empire and her ponies, and they loved her for it. Being one of the few empirical nobility to be full-blooded earth pony, she proudly displayed the philosophies of her race in every facet of her life and work. Loyalty, honesty, hard work, determination. Vanilla knew these were the traits that guided her lady’s life, and she simply had no tolerance for those ponies that lacked the same, or were unable to recognize them in her. Which made the case of two little foals in what amounted to house arrest a troubling thought that kept resurfacing in Vanilla’s tired mind. She simply couldn’t understand why Lady Torc would do something like kidnap a foal, or why she would consent to hire thugs such as Grout and Rivet and keep them about the place. Vanilla bit her lip softly as a small thrum of apprehension rolled down her spine. She didn’t like to remember meeting those two stallions. They usually skulked around the barracks when they weren't following Malice around, and they were a common sight around the kitchen’s back entrance. Lemon had told her about how they commonly harassed maids as they left the kitchens. In fact, it had been the primary reason that Vanilla used the main entrance instead of the more easily reached back. It has to be because of Lord Cruciger’s visits. She thought as her hooves carried her down well known halls to her quarters. She was so caught up in her thoughts that she almost didn’t notice the end of her path before her muzzle collided with the entrance to her room. I hope I’m just worrying over nothing. With a troubled sigh, Vanilla gave the door a sluggish kick. As it swung shut, leaving the sparsely furnished room in a partial gloom, she stumbled wearily to the sole mattress set in a corner and flopped onto it gratefully, the sudden absence of pressure in her back and hooves nearly bringing tears to her eyes. Just a short nap. She’d done what needed doing for the time being, but no doubt there would be more awaiting her later. Even if this break was to be short lived, she finally had a moment to forget her problems. “You don’t look so hot. Rough day, huh?” Except that one. Cracking one eye open, she blinked quickly as she suddenly found her personal space seriously invaded by two inquisitive young eyes. “Ever heard of personal space?” “What’s that?” The filly grinned. “Right.” “Didja see Olive today?” Vanilla sighed and rolled over onto her back, her forelegs pressed against her chest as her eyes roamed the ceiling. More to avoid the stare she could feel burning into the side of her head than for any sort of inspiration. She could see the filly’s ears flop out of the corner of her eye. “No luck, huh?” “No, my whole day was spent running around for Milady. No requests for food. Maybe she’s not hungry.” “And my shoes are made of gold,” she mumbled through a mouthful. “You shouldn’t talk with your mouth fu— What is that?” “A cookie. Duh.” Vanilla frowned as she eyed the crumbs that covered the filly’s face, dropping to the bedspread with every few words. “Why did you get it?” Silver paused mid-bite, glancing at the mare with a hesitant, slightly worried glance. “You must be more tired than you look.” The filly squinted as a powerful sigh swept over her, ruffling her silvery bangs. “You know what I meant. You can’t keep sneaking into the kitchens like that, Silver. The cooks aren’t imbeciles, you know. You’ll get caught, and then where does that leave your sister?” It had taken a little coaxing, but with the proper amount of concern and liberal application of bribery via assorted confections, Vanilla had managed to get the sisters’ story. As the pegasus had related it, the fillies had been minding their own business in their home before the foalnappers had burst down the doors and taken Olive, but not before throwing Silver out a window. Apparently even Silver’s superpony speed and keen instincts hadn’t been enough to deter the invaders. Vanilla got the feeling that Silver might have embellished a little, but seeing as how Olive all but lived under Malice’s shadow for the time being, the mare hadn’t had an opportunity to receive any other versions. “Okay, okay, I get it, alright? Sheesh! No need to have a foal or anything.” Silver huffed, leaping from the bed with a soft flutter of her wings. “Ya talk like I’m the bad guy here or somethin’...” “I didn’t mean it like that Silve—” “Whatever.” A soft, frustrated sigh escaped through the maid’s nose as she watched the sullen filly straighten the rumpled edges of her stained, grey hoodie that had gotten caught in the feathers of a wing. As Vanilla observed Silver’s careful prodding around the feathery appendage, she remembered first discovering the wing’s injury. A large, splotchy bruise still stretched around the wing’s joint and across several of her ribs. As far as she could tell, nothing had been broken, but it appalled her that the filly had suffered such an injury at all, let alone secreted herself in a luggage compartment for such a long trip. “—ello?” And thoughts of one filly brought out thoughts of the other. It was true that the filly, Olive, had recently been turning down many meals, choosing to remain alone in her room so she hadn’t gotten a lot of time to see the little unicorn, but what little she had seen had stuck with her. “Hello? Anypony there?” The last time she’d entered the filly’s room she’d been astounded by the amount of opened books that had lain scattered across the formidably sized bed, nearly completely concealing the covers. The room’s bare bookshelves were the obvious source of literature. Malice had once again been announcing the maid’s arrival and had left her unable to ask for what reason she’d take such a session of binge reading. The similar titles she could see on the occasional spine however, meant her reading had purpose, at the very least. “Oy!” Vanilla shouted in surprise and pain as her ears vibrated from the force of the cry. Silver huffed indignantly as she hopped down from the mattress, tucking her wings along her sides as she smugly waited for the mare to finish cradling her ear. “Serves ya right.” “You didn’t have to shout in my ear!” Vanilla whined, rubbing said spot in an attempt to soothe the ache deeper in her skull. “S’not my fault you weren’t payin’ attention. You didn’t hear a single thing I was sayin’ didja?” The maid blinked in surprise. “Huh?” The pegasus sighed, rolling her eyes. “I said how much longer am I gonna have to wait? You said your boss was gonna leave this place for the Fair at the palace, right? That’s my chance to get Olive outta this!” Vanilla shook her head hesitantly. “I still think you should leave something like this to adults, Silver. Your father is Lord Crux, right? He’ll be at the Millennial Fair too, and I’m sure he’s looking for you two. Leave this to him.” “He’s not my dad! And besides, if it weren’t for him we wouldn’t even be in this mess of ponyfeathers!” “P-!  Language, Silver! And how could this possibly be his fault?” “Duh, you were in that room with that creepy stallion too, right? You heard what he said, even if that lady’s goons foalnapping Olive wasn’t supposed to happen, they were still there for a reason. Who sends cronies to break into somepony’s house for kicks? “And when they did show up, well he wasn’t anywhere to be found. Left us high and dry, just like adults always do.” “But Silver, he couldn’t have known that was goin—” “Doesn’t matter! He never should have left us in the first place.” Vanilla couldn’t help her shoulders slumping in defeat, her eyes closing tiredly. This obviously wasn’t the topic to broach. “Alright. Yes, Milady and Lord Cruciger are leaving for the festivities at the palace. As a matter of fact, they’re leaving tonight so that they can arrive early the next morning.” “Awesome! That explains the carriages I saw parked outside in the yard when I was gettin’ lunch. That’s probably how they’ll move Olive too.” Vanilla watched in curious amusement as the filly paced back and forth across the small space available in the room, her three legs slowly striking the carpeted floors as a forelimb rubbed at her chin in thought. Her wings extended themselves from her back slightly for balance. “Frankenmare’s too tightly wound for me to sneak into Olive’s room, I don’t even think I’ve seen her sleep since I got here. I could give a letter or a message to you or put it on the cart, but you said she checks the cart pretty well, and you’re not allowed to talk to her.” The maid blinked as the filly trotted in slow circles in front of her, listing off a variety of scenarios for a possible rescue mission, then just as suddenly deny their possibility because of one or two qualities that left too much risk. To see the immature little filly logically breaking down a problem and approaching it in a similar manner left her surprised. It just seemed too out of her usual character for the mare to process. It was no surprise the filly didn’t have her cutie mark yet if she was as unaware of her own talents as it seemed. Vanilla could take a few guesses as to what they might be, though. Silver broke off mid-sentence as the sound of the mare’s giggling reached her ears. “What’s so funny? This is serious business, ya know!” “I-I’m sorry, Silver it’s just...you looked so serious wearing your puzzling face. All you were missing was a hat and a bubble pipe.” “Puzzling face?” The filly asked, stupefied. “Yes, you were talking like a detective or something.” Vanilla was taken aback by the face splitting grin that suddenly stretched across the filly’s face. “Really?!” Silver squealed, her eyes shining. “I sounded like a detective?” “U-uhm, yes? At least, I thought so.” “Awesome.” The filly whispered quietly, a smile still on her face. “Anyway, I’m sorry. You were saying?” “Huh? Oh, right. I was sayin’ that since they’ll be movin’ Olive in the carriages with ‘em that the best thing to do would probly be to hitch a ride again and follow ‘em there. There’s bound to be lotsa crowds there, right? Best chance to sneak Olive outta the place.” Vanilla chewed her lip thoughtfully as her eyes roamed the ceiling, her mind going over the plan in more detail. “I don’t know Silver, there’s still a lot that could go wrong with this. You managed to stow away in the luggage compartment last time, but who’s to say you’ll be able to do it again. There’ll be a lot more ponies than just the two foalnappers and Malice. You could get caught.” “Yeah, I know it’s dangerous, but its better than stayin’ here.” Silver sighed, her frizzy silver ponytail bobbing as she stared at the floor. “You’re right about the sneakin’ around. At this rate I’ll probly get caught and that one stooge’ll recognize me for sure. I’m not any good to Olive if I get locked up too.” “At least this way I figure even if I do get caught, hopefully it’ll be when we’re on the way there and they’ll have to take me with ‘em anyway. It won’t be how I planned to get to the palace, but I can make it work.” “You have to be really sure about this, Silver. I’m one of Milady Torc’s hoofmaidens, so she’ll be taking me along for the trip, but I can’t do anything to protect you if they find you. And besides, I’m not entirely sure they will take you with them.” Silver cocked her head to the side, an eyebrow quirked in silent query. “I don’t trust the Lord Cruciger. He has this way of talking to ponies and this strange sort of charisma that he uses to get ponies to agree with him. I can’t be entirely certain, but I’m sure he’s done the same to milady. I wouldn’t be surprised if she hired those two goons on his recommendation. And I’m more than positive that you can’t let them get their hooves on you Silver.” The filly’s ears splayed back along her head as Vanilla leaned close, the serious gaze drawing her own coppery eyes to stare into their hazel counterparts. “Lord Cruciger doesn’t seem like the sort of pony to take chances. If they find you he might tell those horrid stallions to get rid of you, and despite the fact that I know how good of a pony she really is, I’m not sure Lady Torc would argue.” “They might kill you, Silver.” Vanilla watched as the filly swallowed nervously, her wings twitching in agitation before a measure of steel seemed to flow into the Silver’s limbs and her brow furrowed in determination. “Yeah, they could, I know. But Olive’s worth it. I’ve been abandoned by everypony. First my...my parents, then by those crummy orphanage ponies, shipped around the empire from place to place because they couldn’t handle a pegasus. But not Olive. She’s my sister, and the only pony that’s always stuck by me through everything. And there’s no way in Tartarus I’m going to betray her like that!” For some reason she couldn’t quite understand, Vanilla’s heart seemed to swell at hearing Silver’s declaration, and she couldn’t stop the warm smile that tugged at her lips. “Well alright then. I can see you mean business. Okay, Silver, you can count on me. I owe my loyalty to my Lady, I can’t betray her or go against her in anything she does.” “What? But then—” “But.” Vanilla smiled warmly at the confused filly, her eyes sparkling fondly. “Milady expressed her own desires to eventually let your sister go. And it is my duty to assist her in all of her tasks. I suppose finding a way to get you into that escort could fall under that category.” Silver grinned broadly. “Awesome! Y’know, you’re not too bad Miss Vanilla. For a grown up, that is.” Vanilla laughed, her dark curls bouncing in her joviality. “You’re not too bad yourself, Silver.” “So, any ideas for how to sneak me into one of those carriages?” The ponies jumped, startled as a small brass bell hanging from an elaborate rack on the wall rang fitfully, jumping on the end of its rope and throwing its clear, sharp notes out into the room. Vanilla looked up at the bell and sighed, her eyes glancing forlornly at the inviting pillows to her side. “Well, looks like my break has flown out the window.” “Sorry.” The filly mumbled, scuffing the floor with a hoof.  “Don’t worry, Silver, it’s nothing. And as for the escort, well, you let me worry about that, I’ll think of something. In the meantime, you think of what to do when we do get you aboard. You can’t get all the way to the palace without any sort of plan in mind to deal with those stallions. And let’s not forget about Malice. She’s in a whole other league.” Silver smiled, a determined glint in her eyes.“Right!” “And please, do a little thinking about Lord Crux. You may think he failed, but in my eyes it was an honest mistake. He could make the difference in your plans to save Olive. I really think he deserves another chance, don’t you?” The filly frowned petulantly, staring at the floor as Vanilla stepped off of the mattress with a soft groan. As the mare made her way to the door, she glanced over her shoulder one last time, giving the filly a smile. “Like I said, give it some thought, hm?” Vanilla took it as a good sign that Silver chose to say nothing. At least she hadn’t shot the idea down immediately. And if she chose to forgive Crux and bring his help into her plans, her chances of succeeding would likely go much higher. Vanilla felt there might still be hope for this little family after all. “A-achoo!” Olive groaned as she rubbed at her sensitive nose, the violent gust of air feeling like hordes of miniature swords, cutting along the inside of her nostrils. She sniffed mightily as she felt another warm trickle of moisture run down her muzzle. “Ow, ow, ow.” A tissue, levitating at the ready in her green magic pressed gingerly at her face, wiping away the offending ooze and leaving a bright red stain on the white cloth. Time had passed, and as always, it had healed much of her wounds. the bruise on the bridge of her muzzle had faded to a yellowish patch of skin, barely visible beneath her coat. Her nose on the other hand was still rather sore, and she discovered she was still very vulnerable to the occasional bloody nose. Being careful not to cause a mess on any of the dry pages lying open before her, she pressed a new tissue carefully against her muzzle before glancing back down at the open text. Her last discussion with her hosts hadn’t been the most pleasant experience, but at the very least it had been enlightening. Flipping the current page over with the dry crinkle of old paper, the unicorn poured over the lines of flowing text for any reference to what she’d been searching for. With a sigh, Olive looked up from the book, shaking her head in irritation. Green light spiralled up the curves in her horn, magic filling every crevice with a physical manifestation of her will before radiating outwards in a bright flash as a small medallion poofed  into existence. Once more, Olive looked over the intricate designs carved into the face of the silver trinket. It was because of this pendant that she was here now. Well, not the pendant’s fault, per se, but it was definitely what her foalnapper, Rivet she’d discovered his name to be one night, had been searching for. And if these two nobles keeping her under house arrest had hired him, then it fell to reason that it had been what they were searching for. Something she’d been told in her discussion with Cruciger the other day had struck a chord in her mind. Envious of her father’s “companions”, one in particular, he’d said. Call it intuition, but Olive was sure he hadn’t meant a pony. The way he’d said it made her consider some sort of group or force. Perhaps other nobility that offered Crux support? Glancing briefly again at the medallion suspended in her magical grip she turned her gaze once again to the thick novel propped open before her on an overstuffed pillow. The fading gold paint on its cracked and worn casing labelling it as one of the more prestigious of its brothers, yet for all her searching had proven itself just as incapable. She’d remembered seeing such a symbol as the one clutched in her telekinesis  in a reference section of one of her books back home, she was certain. In desperation, she’d taken down every available text within her room in the hopes that they might have similar details, or perhaps even another copy. No such luck. With a huff, the filly slapped the cover down over the fading pages. Pressing her hooves to her eyes in an attempt to alleviate the disorienting whirl of words and phrases cascading across her vision behind her eyelids. Cracking the irritated orbs open again, she began grumpily spinning the medallion before her as her gaze swept across the ransacked room. Similar books to the one before her lay scattered around the carpeting, the eldest stacked upon each other in an attempt to keep order. Though the many scattered throughout in random positions, either propped against objects where they’d landed or lying on their wrinkled spines told of her eventual disregard of organization in the face of disappointment. Her surroundings gave testament to time wasted. Olive knew that if she wanted answers to her many questions, she would either have to return home and peruse again her own collection, or she would have to find access to a larger stock of information than her own quarters’ meager array could provide. The knowledge that neither was likely to become available any time soon only served to increase her frustrations. She turned her gaze roughly again to the trinket, as if to blame the offending item for her inability to find its likeness. Her eyes roamed over its face with what had become practiced ease as she took in its details. A rough hewn crystal or stone of some kind lay inscribed on its surface, what was obviously painstakingly etched contours gave rich detail to the embossed object. The irregularly shaped thing itself was suspended over what looked to be a bowl or depression of some kind. What confounded her the most was its similarity to another similar symbol that she had seen a fair amount of times. Her father’s symbol. She may have spent an abnormal amount of her time in her new home perusing the place’s library, but she hadn’t lived there. Not for any lack of trying. The similar design had graced the forms of many things around the estate. Ledgers she had seen on the shelves had a small raised print of it on their spines, the iron knockers on the main doors were wrought in the same shape and the front gates sequestering the gardens also sported the same wrought iron symbol. Olive had even been present a few times to watch Crux go about business in his office or at a board meeting. The mental image of Crux seated at a wide, oval-shaped wooden table surrounded by the hopeful faces of many ponies as he pressed a small golden seal into a blob of heated wax was fresh in her mind as she mentally compared the two images. There were really only slight differences in most of their features. The bowl shape made more curved and intricate, and the medallion’s bare outside edges were instead filled with phrases in Old Equestrian in its counterpart. No, the only striking difference was their most prominent features. While the silver medallion’s focus was on the rough hewn object, on her father’s seal the bowl held the Crystal Heart. While the excess design she could readily dismiss, after all almost every pony in the empire today had seen similar words pressed into the silver and gold Cadenzas used as currency, she could not understand the need for their centerpieces to be so different. Due to their similarity and the medallion’s apparent age, Olive could surmise that the medallion itself had been the design on which her house’s symbol had been based. But why the change to the Crystal Heart? Keeping the original as a rough hewn stone would, in her mind, make more sense. Slateridge was, after all, primarily a mining region. The differences that the seal possessed opposed to the medallion itself could be summarized as improving on the medallion’s concepts. So the Crystal Heart was an improvement on the stone, logically. Olive remembered asking Crux about the seal once his business at the Miner’s Guild had been concluded. She had posed her question as they trotted out of the building’s doors onto the cobbled streets. Making herself heard over the cheers and laughter of celebrating ponies inside the building had been difficult. ~~~ “Oh, yes. The family seal. An interesting design, to say the least. My father had it commissioned when he first took lordship, though I never thought to ask where it was he had gotten the idea. At the very least, I’d thought to ask what it meant. He said it represented how, just as the magic of this land upholds the Crystal Heart, so too do we and the ponies we watch over strive to uphold the values it represents. Truth, Love, and Loyalty.” … “No, Silver, I don’t use it to sign autographs.” ~~~ A ghost of a smile touched Olive’s lips as the memory played out in her mind’s eye, her true eyes still roaming over the medallion’s curiosities. “So our grandfather had it commissioned? When he first took lordship. That must have been after the Heart had been constructed, it would certainly explain the change in design.” As the trinket levitated before her, a small glint of light off of the dull metal drew her eye down from the stone to the curved depression it rested upon. “Just as the magic of this land upholds it, hmm? Upholds it.” Something about its shape raised uncertain thoughts in the back of her mind. Attempting to bubble to the surface, yet seemingly just out of reach. “Just as the magic of this land cra-” Olive blinked in surprise, her eyes glazed over as her focus lay elsewhere, her mind latching onto the stray thought with a desperate, iron grip. “Cradles it?” She whispered. Her eyes widened as they snapped back over to the medallion, their attention directed away from the stone and onto the depression beneath it. “Just as the magic of this land cradles the Crystal Heart.”  Her mind felt as though it sped out of control with this now obvious connection, though she felt her thoughts occasionally stumble as memories of dark words and declarations passed on to her resurfaced. ~~~ “Those ponies are the reason for the Cradle’s pain, my pain! They were the ones who stole the Cradle’s  heart in the first place! Were it not for their greed, my heart would be at peace!” ~~~ The Cradle’s heart? The Cradle was the source of the Crystal Heart? Olive felt her own heart thud rapidly within her breast as the pieces seemed to fall into place like puzzle blocks held in her magic. So the rough hewn shape on the medallion? That was the Crystal Heart. That would explain the change in the seal, after all Slateridge was the empire’s main crystal manufacturer. There were many jewellers who made their crafts in the city, and they had been for quite some time. Crystals didn’t just grow into a shape as strange as a heart naturally, after all. They had to be shaped, had to be cut. Lord Aurol had had his family’s seal commissioned when he took lordship. And he and his wife had both been alive around the time the Heart had first been present. Had he also commissioned its shaping? His wife. That’s right, Olive’s grandmother had also been present in that memory. Olive slapped a hoof against her forehead in aggravation, groaning with contempt for herself. Of course, how could she have forgotten?! Sable had sealed the Cradle, by her own words! And if the Cradle had once held the heart, it would make sense for her to have had access to it. That would make this medallion hers. Sable guarded the Cradle with Sombra, but Sombra eventually fell to its corruption, to its anger. Anger? Did that mean that the Cradle was sapient? And the memory of Sombra had said that though Sable had sealed it, it wouldn’t hold forever. The Cradle would eventually break free again, and the only one who could hope to seal it again was Sable. But she was dead, and any hope of that had died with he— Well, actually that might not be true. There was still Crux. There was still her father, Sable’s one and only child. “Oh, I have no doubt of that, young miss. Your father possesses quite the repertoire of able companions. I must admit, I find myself envious of one in particular.” The memory of Cruciger’s words echoed through her mind, making her blood run cold as ice through her veins. Had he meant the Cradle, then? Olive stared blankly into the comfortable bedspread without really seeing it, a hoof pressed into her chin and her tongue sticking slightly past her lips as her thoughts raced far ahead of her time and place. But how did he know of the Cradle? Supposedly only Sable and Sombra himself had been privy to it, and during his rule Sombra had bent not only the bodies of his slaves, but their minds as well. Barely any pony in this day and age had any recollection of the events of Sombra’s rule, and a great amount of the eldest ponies who could remember what was before that had perished. Even then, the only things many could remember were the rattle of chains and cold despair. Had he somehow escaped Sombra’s influence? Olive was still very young, but she had heard some things of the time when the empire had been brought back to present Equestria. There had been many ponies that Princess Cadance had had to physically depose. Those that for some reason, still clung to Sombra’s regime. Perhaps then… If that were the case, he would most likely be searching for some connection to Sombra, or at least his power. The Cradle would be an obvious choice, if any pony knew about it. That would make Crux an obvious target. But if the Cradle was sapient, then it wouldn’t be something you could just possess, like great magical talent or a powerful weapon. You would need to have some sort of bargaining chip. Something you could hold over the Cradle with no fear of retaliation. And what better ace than that which the Cradle held dear over all else? The Millennial Fair was fast approaching, wasn’t it? And as far as she knew, every member of the nobility was to be in attendance. And the Crystal Heart would be in the open. The sudden rattle of a key in her room’s door lock startled her back to reality. With a hurried amount of focus, she sent the silver medallion back to the pocket she had crafted for it in her magic. Just as the last of the green light dancing on her horn dissipated, the door slid smoothly open and the tall, steel coated mare walked in, her eyes watching Olive with unblinking dedication. “Y-yes?” Olive asked hesitantly, her eyes flicking between the unicorn and the open door behind her. “Come with me, Milady and her guest are finished preparing for their trip to the palace and they bid me fetch you as well. You will be riding with them in their carriages.” Malice’s usual clipped tone bespoke no semblance of her emotions, but Olive could swear she appeared irritated though she could not place why. Olive squeaked in surprise and panic as she was grasped in a thick, sturdy field of grey magic, pinning her limbs as she was lifted bodily from the bed, being drawn past the mare and out the door. She had been right. They were going to attend the Millennial Fair, and more likely than not, so would her father. As she hung suspended in the air before Malice,  the older mare’s long stride ate up the distance between them and the distant view of ponies running to and fro between a line of carriages on the grassy court before the main doors. Olive’s brow creased in a mixture of thought and worry. “I personally believe there to be far more intriguing companions much closer at hand than the ones to which Crux is privy.” Olive had a bad feeling about the Fair and what it entailed not only for her family, but for the whole Empire if Cruciger had his way. And she had a bad feeling that things would get a whole lot worse before they got any better. “Here you go, kiddo! Thanks for the purchase.” The colt grinned widely in anticipation as the jovial stall owner hoofed the young pony a large, fried treat absolutely coated in powdered sugar. “Enjoy the Fair!” Grasping the sugary treasure awkwardly in one hoof, the colt spun off and dashed into the crowd. Wobbling somewhat unsteadily on three legs, the colt weaved through the narrow gaps present between ponies. Squeezing past suited business owners and exasperated mares shepherding groups of foals while managing to accidentally dust only one unfortunate stallion with powdered sugar, he was looking golden. “Hey, watch it kid!” “Sorry mister!” The colt called, glancing back over his shoulder with an only somewhat apologetic grin. Out of the corner of his eyes, he noticed the crowd growing thinner around him and, thinking himself nearing the edge of the throng, put on an extra burst of speed. As the sense of freedom filled him and warm thoughts of how happy his older sister would be when he showed her the treat he’d gotten them played in his head, the colt turned back around to face his path. The grin stretching his lips widening even further. Just in time to run headlong into a much bigger and very surprised pony. The stallion grunted as the colt’s forward momentum was suddenly brought to a screeching halt by the collision with his barrel. Falling to the cobbles with a muffled exclamation of surprise, the colt rubbed his snubbed nose gingerly, his eyes watering. Blinking furiously to clear his eyes and also to clear away the emasculating tears, the colt couldn’t help but groan as his eyes looked down to the mashed and dirtied snack, crushed flat by his weight and the unexpected impact. His eyes snapped wide open as he remembered that he had indeed smacked into another pony and he winced as he noticed the large white stain that stood out like a fresh patch of snow on the stallion’s dark green vest. “Aww, horseapples,” He muttered thickly around his swollen nose. “Sorry mister, I didn’t mean to mess up your su—” The colt found his words of apology die unuttered in his throat as his eyes rose to meet the piercing gaze that seemed to bore its way into him. It seemed like the colt’s very nightmares had stepped out of the recesses of his mind and into reality. Whispered words of terror from parents and guardians mixed with dimly remembered flashbacks, brought to light by the sight of the pony before him. A cruelly sharp horn glinted in the sunlight as the head it rested upon loomed over him, casting the pony’s face into shadow save faint traces of light that seemed to reflect unnaturally from green orbs. “A-ah, I-I d—uhm.” “Well?” The stallion snapped with a quiet, controlled voice. “What have you to say for yourself, colt? Out with it, I have little time and even less patience.” The words seemed to hiss from his lips like air escaping out of a pinhole in one of the many float balloons tied to every feasible grounding. Something in the stallion’s tone told him he should say something, anything rather than allow the silence that seemed to have settled over the fairgrounds to continue. His eyes flicked quickly around his surroundings, hoping for some sort of distraction or way out of what had quickly become an unsettling situation. Nearby ponies appeared either oblivious to his dilemma, or watched from the safety of what was a wide ring centered around the stallion. The colt realized with a cold sinking feeling in his chest that what he had mistaken for the edge of the crowd had, in reality, merely been ponies avoiding what he’d dived into head first. Literally. The harsh sound of a throat clearing itself raked across the colt’s hearing and dragged his gaze kicking and screaming back to meet that of the increasingly irritated pony staring down at him with the coldness of Outer Wastes themselves. The colt’s brain sent hurried instructions to his slack jaw to quickly say something, yet such requests were completely denied by the inexplicable cold that seemed to have settled in every inch of his body, seizing limbs and thoughts in a vice like grip as the two continued to stare into one another’s eyes. “Ah! Young master!” The stallion’s gaze eased momentarily as the pony turned to face the sound. The colt felt sudden warmth flood back into his hide as his starving lungs sucked in a greedy gasp. Breathing heavily, the colt tried his best to stand on shaky legs, if only to expedite his retreat back into the crowd and away from those green eyes that he could still see in his mind despite their being turned away. “Merlot.” The stallion mumbled, some of the irritation and coldness bleeding from his voice like melting ice as the purple butler cantered slowly toward them. “I see you’ve gone ahead and disobeyed me again. I thought I asked you to stay with the carriage.” “Oui, young master, you did. But the carriage, she was so stuffy, yes? I simply had to step out and stretch stiff legs, non?” Momentarily free of the grey stallion’s terrifying stare, the colt jaw dropped in horror as he watched the smarmy purple pony smirk pleasantly in the face of the grey stallion’s growing irritation. “You know full well the limitations of your condition, Merlot. Let alone you following me to the capital against my protests, the hospital had you confined to bedrest! You can’t be out and about like thi—” “And allow you to be having all the fun? Sacré bleu, perish the thought! It is the Fair, young master! Forget once a lifetime, this is an event that is only seen once every dozen lifetimes! I will not let some silly scrape lay me low during such an event!” “S-scrape?!” The aghast noblepony spluttered in disbelief as the purple butler smoothed his immaculate green moustache. The colt, stricken immobile by the outrageous contrast between the two ponies, felt the hair along his spine curl in surprise as Merlot turned to regard him. “Mon dieu! What has happened to you, young sir? You look as though you have seen several ghosts, yes?” Blinking in surprise, the colt glanced down at himself to see his coat completely matted by white powder. It seemed that the stallion was not the only one to receive a dusting from the earlier incident. “Ah, yes. This one.” The colt’s limbs twitched as the stallion’s gaze settled over him again, though the same wave of cold that had gripped his limbs previously did not come to pass. “Not watching where he was going, it seems. Ran into me and crushed his funnel cake.” “Indeed? So that’s what that stain was, young master. The thought had crossed my mind that perhaps you had taken the liberty of confiscating the stalls’ goodies.” Merlot smiled warmly down at the colt, oblivious to the smouldering glare directed at him by his companion as a burst of magic raised the young pony from his prostrate position on the cobblestones. “I take it the young master has not yet made reparations for the tragedy that has befallen your sweet treat, non? Please, I beg your forgiveness, my boy. He is just a lad, and knows not what he does.” Blinking in surprise as Merlot bowed his head shamefaced, a slight giggle managed to escape the colt at the stallion’s absurdity. “Excuse me, Merlot?” “Oh come now, young master. Not only do you trounce the poor lad’s treat but you deny your guilt? Look at him, for pity’s sake!” Crux sighed as the colt obliged Merlot’s ridiculousness, his eyes watering and lower lip quivering piteously. “Fine. Fine! Here boy, take this and go before you give this old codger more reason to embarrass me.” The green spire on his head radiated with a dull green light as a small pouch flew out of the unicorn’s vest to land in the surprised colt’s hooves. His eyes nearly bugged out of his head as he gaped at the pile of coins nestled in the small bag. “Whoa! Thanks, mi—.” The colt’s wide smile vanished instantly as he looked up to the stern frown beating down upon him. “R-right, sorry! Taking and going!” The colt grasped the pouch strings tightly in his teeth and took off running back into the crowd, his mane pulled back from the speed of his flight. This time, his eyes did not waver from watching his path. A small voice in the back of his head said not to chance looking back again anyway, just in case it might make the noble angry again. “Try not to spend it all at once, my boy!” The butler’s voice called out over the crowd as the colt’s hooves carried him further away. He wouldn’t be doing that, that was for certain. The first thing he would do was find his sister and let her buy the cakes. He wasn’t willing to take the chance of running into them again, he’d much rather relax a little. A boy could only handle so much excitement. Crux snorted in irritation as he swiped a hoof over his once more stainless vest, Merlot’s magic having made quick work of the sugary patch. “There. Good as new, non?” Crux grunted noncommittally as he resumed his brisk pace toward the tall crystalline towers of the palace in the distance, the crowd of ponies parting around him like fields of grass. “At least I’ll still be presentable when I arrive at the palace. Just my luck to run into a little colt carrying one of the messiest treats to be found in this place.” “Well, young master, that’s what happens when you leave your carriage and go strutting through the streets, bold as a peacock! You get dusted.” Merlot chuckled merrily as the two ponies managed to make it out of the surrounding attractions, the crowds watching the floats and dancers beginning to thin out as they edged toward the Commons. The transition from packed streets and gleaming crystal buildings to a more sedate stroll through tended parks and gardens struck the two like a physical blow, the lack of noise and constant pressure from so many bodies so close together seemed to allow breaths taken to seem deeper, more refreshing. Even Crux’s surly expression dampened somewhat as they stepped farther into the less packed area. The ponies present in the Commons, though fewer in number, were no less festive of spirit. Small parties being held in groups near riverbanks and under shady trees on patchwork picnic cloths were visible wherever one turned their heads. The more relaxed atmosphere of revelry nearer the Crystal Palace was indicated by the presence of curiously dressed infantry that patrolled up and down the crystal cobble paths, their postures reflecting mirth and merriment that was bellied by their eyes that darted every which way. These ponies were anything but distracted. The Crystal Palace loomed nearer now, the large arching branches that formed the structure’s supporting legs stretched far into the well-kept fields of the Commons, the light streaming from the low hanging sun sent brilliant rays of gold reflecting off of the tall spires like oiled brass, which combined with the multi-colored pennants flying from poles upon the ramparts gave the usually blue-tinted crystal a more regal, imperious appearance. “Oh, how lovely. Even Celestia herself it seems celebrates with the Empire this day, non?” Merlot smiled whimsically as he seemed to bask in the sights around him. “I suppose.” Crux mumbled, eyes glued to the base of the building rather than its peaks. From this distance could be seen the grand staircase beneath the palace. A winding path spiraling up from the ground glittered in the sunlight even from this distance. Guardsponies stood vigil on either side of a rich red carpet that extended up the entirety of the glass structure to the inside of the palace above. Assorted carriages could be seen arrayed around the stairs’ foot, the ponies strapped to their harnesses chatting amiably with each other as they walked their burdens to the front of the entrance to drop off passengers or arraying themselves in wide arcs from the stairs to await the time to pick them up again. Crux growled in frustration as he noticed his own carriage and driver parked amongst the others. “Tut, tut young master. You should have known better than to leave the carriage.” Merlot chided, having seen where Crux’s attentions were focused. “The crowd was so thick upon arrival, I thought the carriage would have little chance of arriving on time. How was I to know it wouldn’t be easier on hoof?” Merlot didn’t answer, merely chuckling as his ward’s frown soured further. “Hail, esteemed lord!” The shout raced down from the path ahead, drawing the two ponies’ attention as they turned to regard an approaching retinue of armored ponies. As the guards drew nearer and their dressing became clearer, Crux blinked in surprise and a little nostalgia as he beheld their garb. While it was obvious at a glance that the armored forces before him were Royal Guard, it it felt to him as though they had stepped out of the pages of history themselves. Mares and stallions alike were dressed in heavily engraved brass armor with a delicacy to them that bespoke age beyond counting. The decorative pieces didn’t look all that effective anymore in Crux’s eyes. Though they had no doubt been painstakingly polished, the old metal still looked very brittle and angular. There were even several ponies that were missing whole pieces of gear entirely, brightly colored scarves and cloths were wrapped about their bodies to artfully disguise the missing defenses. A small laugh of amusement from Merlot drew Crux’s scrutiny away from the outlandish soldiery and he was too late to suppress a groan of horror and dismay as he saw what it was that had so distracted his companion. One of the ponies was marching forward from the line of others wearing what had to be the most ridiculous get-up Crux had ever seen. Similarity to his fellows ended in that he too wore the same set of ancient armor as the others, polished to a mirror sheen. What stood out about him were the swaths of painfully pink cloth so bright it stung the eyes to do more than glance at wrapped decoratively around his armor, draped over his shoulders and around his barrel. But the centerpiece had to be the enormous red feather that sprouted from his helm like a battle standard, swaying in the slightest breeze like a drunk giraffe. Almost as long again as the soldier was tall, the atrociously fluffy abomination settled as the pony came to a halt a respectful distance from the duo. “We say hail, esteemed lord!” The pony’s familiar shout echoed from inside of his helmet, the old metal rattling loudly from the force of the vibrations. “‘Ere Celestia’s awakening have we waited for the arrival of thee and thine peers. Henceforth we fondly welcome you to join in our merriment on this most joyous of days!” Crux moved to nod graciously as the pony swept into a deep bow, but was caught by surprise as the movement brought the feather rushing mercilessly down to flutter about his face distractingly. “Ack! P-phhut! S-stop that, you imbecile!” Crux spat as the feather wiggled about his muzzle. He turned beseechingly to Merlot for assistance as the armored pony seemed oblivious to the havoc he was wreaking. “M-merlot, stop him!” Suffice it to say, Merlot was laughing far too hard to do much of anything. “Crux, you made it on time!” Shining said, his visor raised above his head next to the garish red feather. His face was split by a wide smirk that contained no little trace of satisfaction. “I’m glad to see you made the trip in one piece.” Crux harrumphed. “Ah, c’mon Crux, it’s a party...sort of. Just a little fun and no harm done, right?” Shining snickered. “Grramaphrmm.” “Merot wasn’t it? Was that Equuish?” Shining asked aside to Merlot, the purple butler still having some small difficulty taking full breaths as he wiped his eyes with a kerchief. Merlot finally managed to settle his mirth and patted his chest soothingly. “Equuish or not, I feel I understand the young master’s sentiment, my lord. That was the most ridiculous thing I’ve seen in years.” He eyed the swaying plume perched on Shining’s head with no small amusement and perhaps just a little admiration. “Very cunningly designed, Monsieur.” “‘Nothing without purpose’ my old drill sergeant used to say. Or at least I think so. It was always hard to tell with all the shouting.” Shining smirked. “Was all of that really necessary?” Crux stared flatly at Shining with a particular kind of seething that can only be displayed by the truly grumpy. Shining let loose a small bark of laughter. “I just got done greeting Jasper, you tell me.” “Oh,” Merlot sighed, a wistful look on his face. “I wish I’d been there to see that.” “Truly a sight to behold.” Shining uttered sagely. “Foolishness aside,” Crux ground out from between his teeth, his eyes flicking between the two ponies.”Am I to assume that means that everyone has arrived for the ceremony?” “Well, you just got here so that leaves the Amber Forests and the High Peaks.” “Torc and Cruciger.” Crux muttered. “That’s right. I received word just a bit ago that they entered the main gates, so I’m sure they’ll be here any minute now.” “Perfect.” Shining arched a brow, eyeing the glowering noble curiously. “You’re looking for those two specifically or something?” “Something like that.” Crux muttered as he stepped past the surprised prince, striding purposefully toward the carpet lined staircase to the upper levels. Those ponies on duty beside the gilded elevation saluted smartly as he approached. “The princess welcomes you with open hooves to the Millennial Fair and the Crystal Palace, Lord Crux. We await the arrival of more guests, but we have made ready accommodations to suit you in the western—” Shining stared in confused silence as he watched the surly lord ascend the stairs and vanish from sight around one of the spirals. He blinked and frowned as Merlot stepped abreast of him, a somber look in his eyes. “What’s eating him? I mean, we’re not exactly besties and he’s not a second Element of Laughter, but he looks like a parasprite ate his cornflakes.” Merlot sighed as he eyed the retreating form of his employer. “Things have not exactly been going as smoothly as they could have since the young master last left your palace, mon prince.” “What do you mean?” “There have been some...complications with the filles.” “The girls? What, did they have a fight or something?” Merlot shook his head sadly. “If only it were that simple.” “Well, don’t leave me in suspense or anything. Spill it.” The butler hesitated, eyeing Shining uncertainly before turning once more for another glance up the staircase. “I hope, Prince Armor, that you understand what it is I mean when I say I do not reveal this information lightly. My entire life has been spent in willing service, and the majority of that to the Crux family. My master prefers to keep such things within his own walls rather than seek outside interference. I do this only out of true concern for my master’s well-being and that of his daughters.” Shining nodded an affirmative, his face set and showing no emotion save that of cool discipline. “The girls were...they were foalnapped, my lord.” “You’re certain?” Shining asked quietly. “Oui. My master’s estate suffered a break-in just a scant few weeks ago and I myself was laid low and bedridden by the scoundrel.” Merlot related the details of the event in an even, quiet voice that betrayed little emotion. “Captain Ash, leader of our region’s local regiment, confirmed the break in and linked it with similar cases. Apparently it has been happening several times around the Empire, non? He reported signs of struggle and with the girls missing and no signs of them anywhere, he could only suspect the obvious.” “Has there been any further news on the investigation?” “None as of yet.” Merlot said “I see. That would certainly explain Crux’s mood. I take it he hasn’t responded well to the lack of success?” “That would certainly be one way to put it, oui. Their loss has made my master’s personality take...a turn for the aggressive. He says he has his suspicions about the perpetrator and believes he will be able to meet and confront them at the gathering.” “He suspects one of the nobility?” “I’m afraid so. And I fear that he shall indeed confront them, guilty or not.” “If you believe there should be concern for his safety I can post a guard—” “Non, Monsieur. I am less concerned for my lord than I am for those around him.” “Is he a danger to the others?” “I will say...that his family does not have the best track record when it comes to taming their passions, non?” “I’m not sure I understand what you…wait, do you mean Sombra?” Shining blinked in surprise as Merlot flinched as if struck, his eyes clenched shut. “Oui.” “I apologize, I didn’t mean to stir anything up if I did.” “Ce n’est pas grave, monsieur.” “I’ll take that to mean ‘it’s okay’. Are you really so concerned about Crux? I know he’s related, but that hardly seems like reason to worry. He’s not Sombra.” “Non, he is not his uncle.” Merlot muttered. Shining looked askance at the morose stallion. “You don’t sound so certain of that, if you don’t mind my saying so.” “My master is a good pony, Shining Armor.” Shining frowned as Merlot fixed him with a withering stare. “I have been at his side his entire life. I have raised him from a gangly little colt into a moderately less gangly stallion and in all that time never once has he raised his hoof in anger against another.” “And yet you voice your concern to me.” Shining coaxed. Merlot blinked once slowly. Twice. A third time before looking up at the Crystal Palace with a gaze that could only be described as sorrowful. “He is not his uncle...but he is as capable.” Shining was silent for a time, his only action was to observe the purple stallion before him as he in turn was observed. Finally, after what seemed a small eternity, Shining spoke. “You think he could be a second Tyrant?” Shining’s gaze was unreadable, but that didn’t stop it from digging deep into the eyes of the other pony. “I’m going to assume you know how big of an accusation that is, considering the nation we live in.” “Non. I accuse my master of nothing,” Merlot snapped in the negative. “My master is a better pony than that monster ever was in every single way. He would be worse, in every single way.” … “Who?” Shining asked quietly. “Pardon?” “Who was it you lost? I may not be much older than Crux myself, but I was Captain of the Royal Guard years before I became prince. I know what loss sounds like. Who?” “I —” “I’ve met ponies who were tortured personally by Sombra that spoke with less hatred in their voice than you do when you speak of him. And an anger like that isn’t something you just grow casually.” Though the butler never moved physically, Merlot seemed to curl in on himself as the seconds dragged into moments. Shining never stopped watching him intently. “My wife.” Merlot breathed in a low whisper. The barest of winces escaped Shining’s stoic mask as he watched something fade from the pony’s face. Shining may have been a soldier, but he shared the same weakness of many stallions. “I’m sorry for your loss.” “Don’t be, Prince Armor. I appreciate that our royalty is so capable of empathy, but it was long ago and time has helped to dull the pain.” Shining nodded as he allowed Merlot a moment to collect himself. “So what happened?” “My lady...she was as beautiful as the day was long. As caring as Kindness herself, and as stubborn as the land she was born in.” A small smile touch Merlot’s lips as his eyes seemed to follow sights from memories long past, but it too faded as the moment passed and he continued. “When the Tyrant first began to make his move against the last queen, many ponies doubted a single pony alone could truly pose a threat to her rule. But what many of them did not understand was that Sombra’s power did not come from his affinity with dark magics. Non, his true strength lay in a tongue gilded in silver.” “Like dominoes, nobles fell one by one under his sway. Either for power or some other dark desire pent up in their hearts, they united under his banner. There were some who resisted, the Lord and Lady Godric, my then employers, and the Cruxes to name but a few. In the end, the Tyrant overthrew the royalty and had the queen’s skull mounted on his chariot.” “Charming.” Shining muttered. “Oui, he thought it fitting. Many ponies today know him as a tyrant, a slavemaster who worked the crystal ponies mercilessly and with unerring cruelty, but he did not start off enslaving the common folk. Early on in his rule, there was an attempted revolution.” “And your wife was a member. “Shining concluded. Merlot nodded somberly. “I never saw her alive again.” He said. “Did you ever find any trace of her? Perhaps she didn’t—” “Non, I saw her again. Just...not alive. I too have been afflicted by the strange haze of the mind that has muddled the thoughts and memories of ponies that survived the Passing, but one thing I have never forgotten was the seeming joy Sombra held for displaying trophies.” Shining felt the fur along the nape of his neck stand on end as the pony looked at him, his eyes filled with a horrific mixture of deepest misery and buried pain. “I hope you never experience such a thing, Prince Armor, even in your darkest nightmares.” Merlot inhaled shakily, his eyes leaving Shining’s to contemplate the crystal cobble beneath his feet. “I confess, I went mad for a time. I howled and raged at the moon and cared little for anything else save those thoughts of my own weakness that ate at my mind like acid. ‘I should have saved her!’ I would cry, ‘I should have died with her!’. But in the end, all I ended up truly caring for was revenge.” “I told you, non, that Lord Godric was my then employer? A kinder pair of ponies you will be hard pressed to meet. Concerned for my health, they asked that I consider retiring, leaving the country and doing my best to forget what was happening in the Empire. I refused and, respecting my wishes, they asked that I then consider working for friends of theirs, the Cruxes. The Slateridge region lies in a far corner of the Empire, pressed up against the foot of the Crystal Mountain Range and elevated above the surrounding land by great plateaus of rock and slate, which give it its namesake. These, amongst other things, had left the region mostly unaffected by Sombra’s tyranny and as such, it had become a haven of sorts for ponies in the Empire.” “They had hoped working in such a place would help me distance myself from my pain in more ways than one. Respecting their desires myself, I agreed and left to enter the employ of the Crux family. They were grateful for my presence, and I was kept quite busy. The Lord Aurol and his lovely lady had just become proud parents of a child of their own. A little grey fluffball of a colt that they named Jet, apparently after a favorite gemstone of his mother’s. For a time, I was busy enough to allow my painful thoughts to be pushed to the wayside. Not happy, for at the time such a thing was beyond me. But content.” “It was around this time I discovered something very interesting.” Shining’s ears flicked in unease, detecting something in the butler’s voice that caused him to take a half step backwards before he could catch himself. Before he’d realized it, he’d loosened his sword in its scabbard though Merlot had taken no notice. “The Lord Aurol’s wife, Sable? As it turns out, she shared more than a passing relation to the Tyrant whose iron hoof was slowly crushing our Empire like a vice. A sister no less, which of course would make the infant whose daily care was my responsibility his nephew, non? I was surprised to say the least.” “Mister Merlot—” “Many in my position would consider such a thing to be the perfect opportunity, after all so did I. So fortuitous, non? A chance given by the Maker herself! All of those buried emotions from before came rushing back like a tidal wave and I was unable to stop them. I may not have been able to lay a hoof on the Tyrant himself, but his nephew? For most of the day it was simply he and I so who could stop me?” The two ponies stared at each other, the seconds passing into minutes as each waited for the other to act. Each wishing for the moment to end for different reasons yet the both of them were rooted to their spots unable to escape the situation’s pull. “Merlot, I sympathise with what you had to go through but why—” “I couldn’t do it.” Merlot whispered. “What?” “I could not commit the act. I had everything planned perfectly. The Lord and Lady were out amongst the guild leaders and the majority of the guards had gone with them. I had gained the trust of the other servants and house guards so they would not impede me if I needed to leave quickly on some false errand or another. It was just he and I alone, and I with the knife in my hooves. But I made a mistake.” Merlot’s tongue rasped as it escaped the confines of his tight jaw in an attempt to moisten his lips. “I looked him in the eyes, and he in mine. In that moment I-I was weak. I lost my courage.” Shining felt his muscles relax slightly as his magic’s grip on his sword hilt eased. That sort of manic energy that had filled Merlot’s voice had departed and left in its wake an empty, exhausted pony whose legs shook with the effort to remain upright. Struck by an impulse he could not explain, Shining placed a comforting hoof on the butler’s withers. “Compassion is not weakness, Merlot.” He soothed. “But to me in that moment, it might as well have been.” Merlot hissed quietly through his teeth, hot tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. “I felt as though I had failed her, failed her memory and my love.” Merlot seemed to struggle a moment, a hoof pressed tightly over his eyes to stem the tide of tears that coursed down his muzzle. Shining’s hoof never strayed from its spot. “But I could not help myself,” Merlot sobbed. “So I did my duty. I helped raise the young Jet, a bright and inquisitive little thing. And in time, I came to love him as my own.” A silence settled over the two ponies as Merlot struggled to reign in his emotions. Shining stood patiently and waited as, slowly, the tears dried and Merlot managed to open his eyes. He may not have been smiling, but he was still standing and that’s all that Shining cared for at the moment. “Why tell me this?” Shining asked gently. “So that you are aware, mon prince.” Merlot said thickly, dabbing at his face lightly with the same kerchief from before in an attempt to preserve his modesty. “My master has great potential, but he is young and not yet in full control of himself and his emotions. I pray that Jet and the girls come out of this unscathed, yet it may come to pass that the young master will lose control of himself and I will not be able to stop him.” “Should my fears, his mother’s fears, come to pass, I will not be able to stop him. I love him too much. I do what I can to steer him toward the path set down for him by his mother, but in the end it is Jet’s choice to follow it. I tell you this because I must ask that if it does indeed come to that, you will do what I cannot.” “I ask that you be ready to stop my master if I should fail.” … “A-alright. I’ll keep my eyes peeled for anything concerning.” Shining blinked uncertainly, a frown creasing his face. “Thank you, my lord.” Merlot breathed. “You...you should go rejoin Crux in the western tea room, I’ll have a guard escort you. I still have duties to fulfill out here before I meet with Cadance and we get ready for the ceremony.” “Oui, of course my lord. As you wish.” Shining stared blankly ahead as the steady sound of Merlot’s hooves striking the ground faded into obscurity on the edges of his perception. He felt a need deep in his body to move, run, to do something physical. Anything. Whatever it took to get his mind running in a better frame of thought to process the heavy words from this conversation that weighed on his spirit like a living weight, keeping his hooves rooted to the ground beneath him. It had been a short time. Only a few years really, since his sister and her friends had dealt with Sombra for what he and many other ponies assumed to be the last time. Celestia herself had assured him that the dark sorcerer’s magic had been entirely untraceable. He, and any trace of him, had been obliterated by the power of the Crystal Heart. The very force he’d sought to wield. The Tyrant King was long gone. But though his physical traces were nowhere to be found, the other remnants he’d left behind, trauma and emotional scarring, still had its claws sunk deep into the hearts and minds of the crystal ponies. Those remnants themselves had caused Shining no end of trouble when it came to initiating some semblance of law to the chaotic mire that had been the Empire after their coronation. And while he’d had no end of problems to untangle on his end, he knew it had been nothing compared to what Cadance had suffered through in her responsibilities every day. While Cadance and he had managed to slowly gain the trust of the common pony over time, to describe their initial reception as anything but extremely wary would have been an understatement. The citizens had been so afraid of them at first that the harsh treatment and mistrust angled towards them had driven Cadance to tears at night, barely finding sleep after hours of being held in his hooves. He could handle the emotions being turned toward him by ponies, after all to their perspective, they had just escaped one of the most horrific and tortuous experiences detailed in Equestrian history. But what he had later discovered was that it had affected his wife in ways he had only recently come to fully understand. Cadance was the alicorn of love, and while her talent was in spreading love to everypony around her, love was as much a necessity to her as it was a calling. Just as Celestia basked in the rays of her own ward every morning after raising the sun and Luna cherished her midnight walks in the Canterlot Gardens, Cadance loved to love and be loved. It was an integral part of who she was, and she thrived on the feeling as much as she did on the palace cooks’ delicacies. His thoughts once more turned to his most recent conversation and a frown etched its way across his face. It seemed that no matter how carefully he planned the events, how painstaking he was in ensuring that the right ponies were in the right place at the right time, events were conspiring to throw a wrench into his efforts. Recent reports of break-ins and urban violence had begun to rise, ponies the Empire over were beginning to turn on one another for the smallest of slights and word of their misdeeds and misfortunes were being brought to his attention every day.The fragile peace he and Cadance had been carefully cultivating for years seemed be unravelling and fraying at the edges. Ever since they had made the move to the lofty northern empire, his wife’s good cheer had been sparingly seen at best and nonexistent at worst. Everything he had done for the last few years had been for for her happiness. Left behind his family and friends, retired from his post as Captain of the Royal Army, even faced down Sombra’s apparition, just to buy Cadance and the Elements more time. He’d even, more recently, allowed himself to be dressed by the armorers in the most ridiculous pink ensemble he’d ever clapped eyes on. But Cady had loved it. And everything, even pride, was happily sacrificed in the name of ensuring the continuation of that smile. It had take a lot of time and effort, and more than his fair share of embarrassment, but now he could wake up in the morning, greeted by the single sight more radiant than the brightest dawn Celestia could conjure. His wife’s smile. And come Tyrant, Tartarus, or anything otherwise, he would never for the rest of his days spend another night holding his wife while she cried herself unconscious. Not if he had a damned thing to say about it.