I should be asleep, Twilight thought. The doctors had told her to rest. Which was absurd; there was far too much to do, after all.
But there is only so much a pony can do without sleep, sketchy stimulant-laced chocolate or no. (Twilight had been offered some vile black liquid called coffee by the retinue of servants that swirled around her whenever she didn't make it thoroughly clear that she wanted to be left alone. Even by Twilight’s standards, it was wretched, bitter stuff, and she could barely feel the pickup.)
So yes, sleep...
But sleep wasn't coming. So she stared up at the ceiling and into the dark.
Her bed was disgustingly soft—probably a down mattress, worth its weight in gold.
Rich was an idiot, Twilight thought. Coffee, servants, this damn squishy bed.
She sat up, flank sinking into the bed. Levitating her pillow—just as soft and appalling as the mattress, but at least she could put her forelegs under it to compensate--she dropped down to the floor and laid down.
The carpet was nice. Rich had no doubt bought it for its luxuriousness, a surface for his heavy, privileged hooves to step on.
I would have killed to sleep on this ten years ago, Twilight thought, closing her eyes.
Something was still... off.
She put aside her pillow. Maybe I'm not used to it. I should send somepony to buy me one just like I had when I got here.
She shrugged, or would have if she wasn't laying down.
What if...
Spike. That's what she was missing. Not that she missed the dragon.
That must be it, she thought. I don't think I'm safe without him—it. Stupid. What would the princess think?
She was, after all, safer than she had ever been, wasn't she?
Surely it hadn't been this bright earlier. It didn’t seem fair. Twilight opened her eyes. Yes, it was brighter. Maybe one of the servants had come into the room and turned on a light. She would have to fire them.
And maybe have them shot. Just because they were a security risk. I'm not a... psychopath. No matter what anypony says.
Dash would probably approve. She's as paranoid as I am about security risks. I could have her do it.
But would she?
Screw it. Twilight would have to investigate, deal with whatever was making that damn light, and then...
Sleep.
Yes. Sleep.
The light wasn't coming from the doorway to her bedroom, and it wasn't the hot glow of an electric bulb, anyways. A pale, thin light was streaming in through her window.
Possibilities, she thought.
1. It's moonlight.
This was unlikely. The sky had been thoroughly overcast when she had last seen it—the pegasi were still hoping to corral the rain clouds northwest, into Canterlot. Something had to stop those fires.
2. I'm hallucinating.
Twilight took a instant to be disappointed by this hypothesis. Even if sleep deprivation or whatever was in those chocolate bars had been causing hallucinations, this would be a boring hallucination, and she was sure her subconscious could do better. In any case, it wasn't terribly useful. She couldn’t trust herself to think clearly if she was hallucinating.
3. Magic.
Well, now, this was plausible. Twilight subdivided this hypothesis in her head.
3a. It's a solar assassin.
Dash should be proud of me, Twilight thought. Jumping to the most paranoid explanation. Yes.
Well, she was outside the line of sight from the window. This didn't preclude an explosive device from killing her before she could project a shield, but it meant that they couldn't get to her without drawing attention.
3b...
This took some thought.
Princess Luna. Outside my window. She needs a place to sleep—does she sleep? And of course she’d drop in on her most loyal student.
I bet she doesn't like soft beds either, so she'll lay next to me on the carpet and—
Get a hold of yourself, Sparkle.
She walked to the window, solar assassins be damned. And if she paused a second looking for a pair of teal eyes, she soon forgot about it.
Because the sky was grey. A flat grey, but it shone a bit, like a cheap newspaper held up to the light.
She walked out to her balcony and stared up into the strange sky, her eyes wide. She gasped, and at that second, a raindrop fell into her mouth.
It tasted like chocolate.
The art of the nap is a subtle one, and Dash had mastered it. Any spare moment in any safe corner of the world was an opportunity to catch up on sleep.
But it didn’t help that lately, she didn’t have that many spare moments, and safe corners were in short supply. Oh well. At least she could use all of these papers as a makeshift pillow. It was surprisingly comfortable.
The mare standing at the door to Dash’s office—which was strewn with papers Dash was probably supposed to address at some point—was slightly built and pale, wearing an unpretentious black jacket, and consulted a clipboard, glancing occasionally at Dash.
Dash focused her bleary eyes on the jacket. Not a Night Guard uniform. Huh.
“Lieutenant Colonel Dash?” the mare asked, her voice carrying just the slightest twinge of country.
Dash groaned. “That’s me.”
A forced smile. “Oh, good. I hoped I could track you down—”
What?
“—after all, Ms Sparkle seems to mention you quite a bit.”
“Uh, okay,” Dash said, standing up. “Who are you?”
The mare walked into Dash’s office, stepping distastefully over the papers that had somehow managed to find their way onto the floor.
Dash smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of her head. “Yeah, uh... I sorta just moved into here, so it’s kind of a mess.”
A blank stare. “I see. In any case—” A hoof extended to Dash in a smooth, professional motion. “I’m Moonshine Luster, personal aide to the princess. She’s... preoccupied... but wanted to check in on her personal student. And so here I am.”
Dash met Moonshine’s hoof with her own. “Pleased to meet you, I guess. Twi—um, Ms Sparkle—is upstairs right now. I think she’s sleeping.”
Moonshine glanced at the makeshift paper pillow. “Yes, well, there seems to be a fair bit of that going around. But actually, I wanted to talk to you.”
“I’m an open book. What do you want to know?”
“Twilight Sparkle trusts you a great deal, you know,” Moonshine said, looking seriously up at Dash. “I handle some of the princess’s personal correspondence. You’re mentioned.”
Great. “Huh,” Dash said.
Moonshine raised an eyebrow. “Yes. And it seems that trust is earned. You’ve, ah, saved her life on multiple occasions, haven’t you?”
Dash shrugged. “Doing my duty as a Night Guard.”
“She considers you a friend.”
“Huh. I didn’t know Twilight wrote that kind of stuff to the princess.”
“Not infrequently, either.”
Dash said, “So what do you want to talk about?”
“The princess has... concerns,” Moonshine said, speaking slowly and carefully. “I’m here to evaluate whether you’re a threat to Twilight.”
Shit. How do they know?
“The princess fears that Twilight may have been... emotionally compromised by you.”
Oh. Well, that’s weird. “Doesn’t sound like Twilight to me.”
“I see,” Moonshine said, flipping to another sheet in her clipboard and retrieving an pencil from her jacket. “Could you characterize your relationship to Twilight Sparkle?”
“I... what?”
“The princess suspects that there is more going on than simple loyalty.”
And she’s right, Dash thought. Shit. “Nothing wrong with simple loyalty, is there?”
That eyebrow raised again. “It’s rare.”
Dash shrugged. “If you say so.”
“So you don’t consider Twilight a friend?”
Dash couldn’t even think of an honest answer. “I don’t know.”
The aide’s eyes didn’t leave the clipboard, and she scribbled something down. “I see.”
“I mean—” Damn it. I could have just left it there. “I don’t know,” she repeated, lamely. “I respect her?”
“That’s good,” Moonshine said. She still didn’t look at Dash, still scribbled onto her clipboard. “Respect is important.”
“So you’re the princess’s personal aide?”
A stare that held enough contempt to kill a rat at ten paces. “Yes.”
Dash offered a weak smile. “That’s... cool?”
“I suppose it is.”
“So, uh... any more questions?”
“I think I’ve learned enough,” Moonshine said. “You said that Twilight Sparkle is sleeping, correct?”
Dash glanced at the clock. “At least for the next hour. I’ll kill her—uh, sorry...”
Well. That could have gone better, Dash thought, and raised her eyebrows, smiling at the mare. Nothing going on here, Ms Personal Aide.
“I’ll be—disappointed—if she tries to start working, you know, before she gets enough sleep,” Dash offered.
A raised eyebrow. “I see. Well, in any case, Colonel Dash, the princess has written a set of instructions for the way Twilight Sparkle is to proceed in her—” The aide looked up at the ceiling for a second. “—mission tonight.”
“Can I look at them?” Dash asked. Maybe I can tip some ponies off before we get started.
Moonshine shrugged. “I can’t imagine you’d be foolish enough to interfere with the prosecution of this war by any means necessary.”
“I didn’t know there was a war.”
“As of now.”
“Any means necessary, huh?”
Moonshine hesitated for a second. “The princess was very clear on that point.”
Don’t be ridiculous—no, not you, Pinkie, I know you’re very good at it. Shining Armor, you could at least pretend to have the barest semblance of imagination. Why on earth would I want to raise the sun? So that you can get your giggles in the noontime glare?
If I recall, you have access to an alicorn who is quite capable of doing it for you.
Oh, you did already? Why, that comes as a complete shock. I can only assume that it went as brilliantly as the majority of your plans seem to.
If you’ll cast your memory back to the deep, distant abyss of a whole five seconds ago, you might remember that I mocked only the majority of your plans. Freeing me was an absolute master stroke, even if Pinkie here gave you the idea.
Uniforms schuniforms. Fluttershy sch...utterfly? Whatever. In any case, shut up and let me work.
The great solar leader demands an explanation! Well, isn’t that just utterly impressive of him? Here’s your explanation. You might remember that there’s a certain length of time before the sun is visible. It’s called twilight.
You managed quite a grimace there, Shiny. But no matter. What I’ve done will drive little loony Luna to distraction. She’s used to dealing with you solar nutcases, so of course she’s told all of her little ponies that the sun is dangerous—
That will never, ever, be the point.
She doesn’t know what’s going on now. She’s... in the dark... about what the angle is or who happens to be playing it.
The chocolate rain is just a little personal touch of mine.