Morning turned into afternoon, and then to night.
The doors to Canterlot court closed behind Celestia, signalling the end of the day and the end to today's duties. She hung her head, sighing. The images of a hundred nobles, furious, begging, or both, passed in front of her closed eyes. There was only one face she wanted to see right now, hopefully he would be in her room.
A clatter of hooves caught up, matching her speed. Colonel Purple Dart made a loud sniff and smelt faintly of starched cloth.
"What a complete debacle," the Colonel muttered, shaking his head. "How are you feeling, ma'am?"
Celestia didn't answer at first. Even with her memories scattered, she had not seen so many ponies arrayed against her in a very, very long time. The Equestrian nobility had unsurprisingly petitioned for leniency with any of their relatives. Some were demanding, some were pleading, some were bargaining, but all of them were hard to look in the eye.
"They believe that you are their leader," Celestia whispered under her breath, drawing on that gentle strength. She thought she had lost him last night. Then, not twelve hours later, he pulled her back into his arms. She could still feel the warmth.
"What was that?"
"Oh? Uh, nothing," Celestia quickly looked away.
The Colonel nodded sympathetically, "I understand, princess. 'Traitorous Royal Guard', my heart aches just putting those words together. I respect your decision to allow a trial for each of them… the law says they deserve it, but surely, this is just drawing it out. Their crimes simply deserve imprisonment."
"I know," Celestia replied, trying to suppress the haggard expression on her face, "And the law also states that their imprisonment should be for decades, or even exile from Equestria. However, mercy and pragmatism suggests otherwise."
"Oh yes," the Colonel smiled darkly, "Might I say that the lads greatly appreciate you entrusting them to Cloudsdale until their trials come about. Stripping them one by one of their uniforms and ranks will be a rare pleasure. I do hope one of them tries to esca—"
Celestia silenced him with a glare.
He froze, quickly bobbing his head.
She turned away, looking just as apologetic, "In the middle of sentencing, you mentioned something about Gar— ah, Grey Spear. What happened?"
The Colonel swished his moustache. "He's made a nuisance of himself, that's what he's done. What's more, he humiliated one of the Wonderbolts, stepping right over like she was a rock! Monochrome Sprint was guarding Noble Era's room and when I got there, I saw him digging through Noble's notes like a Diamond Dog. Not that I care for the stallion, but Noble Era is in a coma. Gareth ought to show some respect!"
"I see. I'll make sure to speak with him later," Celestia said, injecting some steel into her voice. Good work, Gareth. Hopefully he'd found something worthwhile. "Now, if you'll excuse me—"
The Colonel paused as Celestia gestured up to the red cross sign hanging above them. He blinked for a moment before jolting in surprise.
"Ah, v-very good, ma'am! Best of luck with Dr. Legata," He said before turning away.
Celestia stepped into the office. The doctor had cleaned up a little since her last visit; there wasn't a pile of sheets in the corner with an Earth-Guard feigning sleep, and there wasn't a wounded prince-consort rifling through her cupboards. Instead, there was just the doctor herself restocking some supplies, closing the cupboard doors with a sigh.
Dr. Legata turned to Celestia, blinking for a moment before politely nodding.
"Good evening Princess, I presume you're here about Noble Era? His condition has not changed," she gestured to Noble Era's bed. A rainbow of bouquets lay at the foot of his cot, looking almost as though his body was on display; bad news traveled fast. "Although it may worsen, given that his well-wishers seem to be attempting to suffocate him with flowers."
"I know he is in the right hooves, Legata," Celestia lowered her voice to a whisper, "But I'm not here to check on him, I'm here for me. My knowledge of this world is not as complete as it once was, and I need to know something for certain; is there a way of transforming my alicorn body into a human one, even for a short time?"
The doctor stared at Celestia with an uncertain expression. She glanced over Celestia's shoulder. Her horn lit up purple and pulled the heavy wooden door swung closed.
"Princess, the techniques of that kind of transformative magic have been lost to the ages. Some would say they were lost for good reason. Certain unicorns are feverishly studying it, but I am convinced that recreating it is a pipe dream," Legata said.
"Oh…"
Legata's brows turned up in a surprisingly tender expression. "Your majesty, are you familiar with my thesis?"
"Your thesis? Yes, I think I am. It is why I hired you in the first place, was it not? Your theories of emotional well-being and physical well-being were fascinating."
"Yes, well," Legata sucked in a sharp breath, glancing away, "That wasn't my initial thesis. My initial thesis was on the study of Love. More specifically, the emotion of love, the understanding of friendship and the bonds that bind ponies together."
Celestia pulled her head back in surprise, "Yes… I remember this. Your peers—"
"Laughed my flank out the University? Yes," Legata muttered bitterly.
Celestia winced. "I wouldn't have put it that way."
"But it's true," Legata continued, "You were the only pony I knew who put any stock in it. That's why I agreed to work with you. You also hired me for another reason; I would never lie to anypony, not to a patient, not to a family, and not to you. That also means that I will never withhold information, which is why you should know something."
Celestia felt numb.
"Princess Celestia," Legata said, "when I first saw Gareth, I performed one of my scans on him. When he came into my office earlier this morning, I performed another. In these, I saw what connections he had to the ponies around him. Even with his lack of magic, I could see the faint tethers of friendship."
The doctor took a moment to sigh, "Princess, there's no easy way to tell you this, but while he had a connection with you, it was not one of love. It was a connection between friends, nothing more."
Nothing but Noble Era’s rhythmic breathing filled the room. Legata stared deeply, a shadow of fear on her face.
Celestia ignored the pang of despair, warded off by warmth. "You saw no love from him?" she asked, schooling her expression.
"Not for you," Legata shook her head, "He loved someone, and quite strongly, but that pony was not you."
"I see," Celestia turned and walked to the door. She paused on the threshold, "Doctor, I had one more question; what does a connection between a mother and a daughter look like? Is it closer to love or to friendship?"
"Uh, friendship, of course."
Celestia smiled softly, "I see. Thank you, Doctor."
Legata took a half step forward, eyes wide, "Wait, I don't understand! He doesn't love you! Doesn't that upset you in the slightest? Normally when I tell this to ponies they become agitated or at least—"
"Doctor," Celestia replied with a gentle smile, "I learnt a lot of things in England. One thing I learnt is very dear to me: there is more than one kind of love."
The looks on Celestia's guards’ faces told her what she needed to know; Gareth was inside, and he was not doing well. Her horn lit up as she pushed the doors open and quickly locked them behind her. The room had been cleaned since this morning. The bed was made, her sketches were neatly arranged and the large silver platter, once filled with flank-fattening comfort foods, was removed.
Garth's Spartan cot was empty, but his equipment still lay next to it. Armour hung on a makeshift armour stand, effectively, a coat rack with a horizontal stick lashed on. His spear and longbow lined alongside that... along with a recurve bow. Celestia frowned, perhaps Gareth had taken more than just notes from Noble Era's room.
A whip of shifting satin sheets came from her bed. What at first looked like a yellow cushion was actually a head of hair: Gareth's hair. He dozed on the floor, propping his back up against the side of her bed.
Celestia crept up to him, trying not to startle him awake. He had taken the hair-tie out.
Celestia grumbled. The ponytail was starting to grow on her. A surprisingly pleasant mix of sweat and body odour wafted by her as she approached. She could see him sprinting up all those stairs, barely needing to take a breath.
Brown eyes snapped open. Gareth lurched forward with a gasp, reaching down for his dagger. His head whipped about wildly.
"It's okay," Celestia whispered. "I'm here, it's okay."
Gareth caught sight of her. A heavy, relieved sigh escaped him. "I just—" he said, smiling gently. "Sorry... Cecilia"
"Nightmares?."
His smile turned rueful, glancing away, "Yeah, I-I know. 'We both get them', 'it's nothing to be shameful of'."
Celestia smiled. "No daggers in bed."
"'No daggers in bed'," he recited, affecting a nagging tone.
"Prince Gareth! Are you implying that you might actually be listening to your wife? Scandalous," Celestia tittered. She slowly lowered herself down, reclining next to him.
"Ah, but my wife is the princess, and I am but a loyal subject!" Gareth replied, his grin turning genuine. "You married a York, your majesty, our oaths mean something. Now Lancasters, those rats wouldn't—" he stopped, seemingly remembering something. His face froze in horror.
"Rats!" All humour in his voice was gone. "In the courtyard! Cecilia, there are plague rats in the courtyard!"
Well, that explained the panic.
"Gareth, please, calm down," she said, placing a forehoof on his shoulder. "There is nothing to be concerned about. There has been no evidence of the plague in Equestria."
"Of course there hasn't!" Gareth growled, gesturing wildly. "Even in England, horses were immune to the plague! If Equestria's ratcatchers aren't doing their jobs, then I'll do it for them!"
"Gareth!" Celestia's voice turned firm, her forehoof pressing harder. "You're not listening to me; there are no ratcatchers here because there is no plague here. But, if what you said is true, then these rats are violating Equestrian law, they're trespassing on royal land. I will allow you to capture them if you wish, but on one condition—"
"Let me guess, no killing, right?" Gareth huffed petulantly.
"No killing?" Celestia echoed, her lip curled. "Gareth, I don't want so much as a single strand of fur yanked out! These rats may be criminals, but they have rights!"
Gareth let out a long, aggravated sigh, dragging his palms across his face. He rocked to his feet with a huff, marching a few steps forward.
"Gareth?"
"No injuries," he replied, his tone neutral. "I understand."
"No, I…" Celestia pursed her lips. "I just wanted to say good night."
Suddenly, he stopped. His body swayed slightly.
"Cecilia?" Gareth asked, slowly turning to her. "I... can I sleep beside you tonight?"
Celestia's heart pulsed, breaking into a sprint. She blanked her face as her mind raced. This morning, she managed to put on some perfume before she seeing him in Dr. Legata's office. Right now, both of them reeked the high heavens. If she told him to bathe, he might take it the wrong way, and he looked so fatigued that if she took a bath, he might just fall asleep anyway.
However delightful the idea was, she wasn't stupid enough to suggest they should take one together.
"Cecilia?" Gareth asked again, tilting his head.
She jolted, quickly answering, "Y-yes, of course you can. If that's what you would like." Mercifully, her voice came out as sounding perfectly calm and gentle.
Both of them made their ways to opposite sides of the bed. Celestia's coat prickled with sweat, watching him as he made the first move. If anything, Gareth looked how she felt: tired and lonely.
He reached forward, pulling the sheet back and slipping in underneath the covers. A grimace formed on his face as he tossed once, twice, trying to find a place where he could get some decent legroom. With a sigh, he closed his eyes.
Celestia kept her distance, lifting the covers and laying down on the opposite side. There was almost a yard in distance between them. With a flick of her magic, the lights in the room extinguished.
Gareth sighed in relief, "'Night, Cecilia."
"Good night, Gareth," she whispered.
Celestia had a dream that night. Well, she could only assume it was a dream, or perhaps it was just Gareth shifting in his sleep. Maybe it was just a shoulder or fingertips that brushed across her.
Or… maybe he kissed her on the lips.
Dream, mistake or reality, Gareth was not there when she woke up.
The next morning, Gareth wheeled a barrel out into the middle of the courtyard. He stopped by one of the larger trees, pulled it up and lifted off the lid.
Yes, this was plenty close enough. At his age, Gareth had mastered a variety of different skills. The art of fletching, bowyership, archery, horse riding and farming were all within his ken. Yet, not all of his skills were as proud or honourable.
Being raised on a farm meant that his fellow knights tended to see him as the person who looked after any animal problem. Feral dogs? Gareth will do it. Sick cat? Gareth can heal it. Head lice? Gareth. Rats...?
Hungry nights on the road meant that Gareth had to learn the art of ratcatching. One could make a tidy profit in it actually, with a dead rats weighing in a few pennies a head. A dozen rats meant a pleasant night's sleep and food in one's belly. Although not nearly as glamorous, before long, Gareth came to see it as being roughly as dangerous as bounty hunting. Both needed the correct equipment, planning and preparation.
Gareth pulled a small sack off his belt and unwrapped it. The sweet smell of cake frosting tickled his nose. His stomach growled in approval. However, this was not for him. He drew his dagger and dragged it across.
Gleaming Horizon's words still echoed in his head. Gareth asked for a hunting dog to be allowed into the castle –a reasonable request, he thought– which could help with the hunt. 'No', was the answer. No 'vicious dogs'. Not even a 'small but vicious dog'. No animals were allowed in the castle. Moreover, no, there weren't any rats in the courtyard; the groundskeeper would have spotted them.
Aha, he thought: groundskeeper! Unfortunately, said keeper was on holiday, so another pony was looking after the grounds in the meantime. Whoever that was, Gleaming had no idea. Marvelous. So, back to basics then. He could not use a dog to sniff them out; he couldn't poison the bastards either. No, he only had only the humblest of a ratcatcher's implements: a trap.
Gareth peered over the side of the barrel, swabbing the innards with an index finger. Yes, the soapy grease was holding strong. He reached up to the centre, tugging at the rod and loosely-fitted cylinder.
Now for the bait; he slathering the cylinder with the icing. Rats loved sugar, and they loved grains. Therefore, cake made of both these things made the perfect trap. Gareth's logic was infallible. When the rats crawled over to get a nibble of the cake, they slip on the rod, and then fall in the barrel. Bang, one captured rat.
Normally he would have filled it with water, but no, Cecilia specified LIVE and UNHARMED rats. No one was going to accuse him of being a disobedient husband. That did not mean that he was going to be anywhere near this thing when the time came to fish them out. A pony could have that 'honour'.
With a final grunt, Gareth lifted up a plank, setting the base on the ground and the tip on the lip of the barrel. Rats go up the plank, and then the trap does it's stuff. Simple.
Gareth turned, clapping his hands together, smirking with the satisfaction of a job well done.
A tuft of pink mane poked out from the side of a tree. Butter Pie trotted forward, a small sack held in her mouth. Her eyes were fixated on the wall just behind Gareth.
"Good morning, Butter Pie," Gareth said, politely waving. She looked up to him, smiling through the sack.
"Hello, Gareth," her voice was warm and dreamy. It never ceased to amaze how ponies managed to speak so clearly with something in their mouth. "Lovely day for a pic— oh? What is that?"
Gareth glanced to the barrel behind him, trying to think up the words, "Trap for… uh, monsters. Black, small monsters, ah, fuck it—" He lifted his hands up to his face, mimicking whiskers. "Squeak, squeak! Yummy cake," a flattened palm mimed the rat's ascent, and— "Oh no, fall! Thud!"
Besides her left eye twitching once, Butter Pie's expression did not change from numb contentment.
"Gar-eth!" Styre's voice rang out from the courtyard's entrance. He wore gold barding instead of silver. A promotion perhaps?
A cloud of dust trailed in Styre's wake as he rushed up to the pair of them. He snorted loudly, subtly huffing to get his wind back. Butter Pie made a murmur of greeting, smiling at him sweetly.
Gareth cocked a brow, waving his hand expectantly.
"Celestia," Styre grunted. He paused for a moment, before fishing a palm-sized scroll out of the plates in his barding. Despite being new, for Styre at least, the armour looked rather beaten up.The corners of the plates were worn down, likely from grinding off rust.
Gareth frowned. Perhaps that was different in Equestria, but in England that meant that the set had to be decades old at least.
With a flick of Styre's mouth, the scroll unravelled into a map of Canterlot. A large rubber stamp marked a familiar location: Canterlot Library.
"Ah, got it," Gareth surmised, leaning over and gently tugged the scroll of out Styre's mouth. He rapped his knuckles against Styre's armoured shell as he walked past, "Good armour. You did well last night."
"You too." Styre snapped his forehoof up to his brow in a pony's salute. Gareth returned it.
Butter Pie stepped up to Styre's side, nuzzling against him… and giving Gareth a pointed look.
Ah, right, picnic. Gareth took a few steps back, bidding them farewell and turning away.
Canterlot Library was old. Not that it looked unkempt, no, but rather the very architectural style hinted at a different time, perhaps hundreds of years earlier. Instead of smooth corners and bright colours, the stone was angular and plain, much like the castles in England. The smell of pine, horse and paper filled the air inside, along with a sea of bookcases that stretched on for a hundred yards to his left and right.
Gareth walked by a group of chattering ponies, each grabbing piles of books like a child with a toy. There was no reverence here. To make this many books would have taken an army of monks decades. There must have been thousands, no, tens of thousands of books here.
After getting directions from a stern-eyed librarian, Gareth found himself in front of a gilded door. A sign was stuck on it with the bust of an alicorn's head. While he could not make out much of the text below, one of them probably meant 'royal'.
Gareth gave the door a gentle nudge.
On the other side Cecilia and Gleaming sat at a round table in a private room. Bookshelves lined the four walls, each one stacked to the ceiling.
Gareth's heart seized for a moment. He hadn't seen Gleaming since the night of the attack. Cecilia said that she'd broken her leg... because of him. He lifted raised his hand in a nervous greeting. "Hello."
Both Cecilia and Gleaming brightened, looking up from the piles of books and scrolls in front of them. "Gareth, you are here!" Cecilia said in Equestrian.
He smiled back, taking a moment to consider his reply, "Hello everypony. How can I help?"
"By getting a book!" Gleaming said, smiling and pointing up to the bookshelf behind him.
Book? Gareth turned, looking up at one of the higher shelves. There... there were a lot of books. "Uh... which book?"
"Red book," Cecilia said. "Top shelf.
The hairs on the back of Gareth's neck stuck up. Her voice felt unnervingly... scheming. He looked through the shelves again.
True to her word though, the book was nestled just between the top shelf and the cieling. It was just within reach. Just.
Gareth reached up on the balls of his feet, pinching the spine of the book. Once, twice, three times.
A pair of giggles came from behind.
Gareth felt his cheeks grow hot. They were making fun of him, somehow. With a growl, he reached up one more time.
The book gave way, falling into his hands with dusty clap. 'On the nature of translation spells by Starswhirl the Bearded', the title said. There was a stamp of Equestria's royal insignia on the otherside.
"I've got the book," Gareth said, turning back.
Gleaming Horizon looked up, her face was burning red and lips twitching nervously. Cecilia continued to stare where his arse used to be. "That's nice, dear."
"You done?" Gareth said, placing his hands on his hips.
"Not quite," Cecilia said, finally looking up. "Gleaming Horizon is VERY interested in just how dexterous human fingers are, do you think you can--"
"--NO, NO, THAT'S NOT NESSESCARY!" Gleaming Horizon squeaked, seemingly attempting to sink beneath the table.
Gareth rolled his eyes. "Why am I here again?"
"We...w-we asked you here because," Gleaming Horizon glanced over to one of the many books strewn across the table.
Emotion drained from Gareth's body. He looked Cecilia in the eye. "How can I help?"
The light in her eyes faded, "Just… be here," . She pulled over one of the books, the cover had two alicorns on the front, one white, and one blue. "This book is called 'History of Equestria: Fifth Century'."
Gareth sat down, "Your sister?"
Cecilia nodded.
Gleaming's ears perked up. "I... I better go."
"Gleaming, it's okay," Cecilia said.
"No... it's... I-I should go." She pulled away. The heavy plaster cast on her hind leg thumped with each step as she nervously trotted by.
Gareth's chest tightened at the sight of it, proof of his failure.
She cast a final, nervous glance as the door closed behind her. They were alone.
Gareth turned to Cecilia. "I'm ready whenever you are," he urged, switching back to English.
The manuscript opened at middle, one of the pages depicted a series of scenes in small boxes. At the top left was a pair of alicorns in a swirling pose, the flag of Equestria.
Cecilia cleared her throat, "And so it was agreed that the eldest used her alicorn powers to raise the sun at dawn. She ruled the day: keeping the peace through political rule in keeping with the principles of Harmony. The younger brought out the moon to begin the night. She was the defender, protecting not only against beasts of the physical, but also against nightmares, traveling into the dreams of her subjects when needed.
The blue alicorn stood on a cloud with her head hung low. A shadow passed over Cecilia's face, "But as time went on, the younger sister grew resentful."
A field of ponies, half in the sun and playing, and half at night, sleeping, "The ponies relished and played in the day her elder sister brought forth, but shunned and slept through her beautiful night."
The white alicorn stood upon the blue alicorn's cloud, "One fateful day, the young sister alicorn refused to lower the moon to make way for the dawn. The elder sister tried to—" Cecilia froze, her lips trembling. She closed her eyes, taking a breath, "She… tried to reason with her, but the bitterness in the young one's heart had transformed her—"
Suddenly, the blue alicorn's eyes turned green, rearing up as the white sister recoiled, "—into a wicked mare of darkness: Nightmare Moon. Sh-she vowed she would shroud the land in eternal night."
A fire clutched Gareth's heart. Her sister betrayed Cecilia because of jealously?
"Re-reluctantly, the elder sister harnessed the most powerful magic known to—" Cecilia's eyes glazed over. She closed the book with a creaking thud, "I-I can't read this anymore. It hurts too much."
Gareth cautiously picked it up, watching her for protest.
There was none.
He flicked back to the page. The scenes in the book told him the rest; Cecilia used this powerful magic, involving six coloured stones, to defeat her sister. This magic transformed the younger sister into the moo— no, wait; this banished her to the moon. Then Cecilia took control of both the sun and the moon, with the ponies looking up at her, smiling and joyful.
They were... happy about Cecilia banishing her sister.
He lowered the book.
Cecilia stared at him.
Gareth picked his words carefully. "What happened to her?"
"Banished to the moon," Cecilia glanced out the window. "For a thousand years."
"Why?"
Cecilia paused. "Because I couldn't bring myself to destroy her," she turned back. "Could you?"
"This was the one that challenged your rule before, wasn't it?"
"Yes," she squeezed her eyes shut. "I was weak."
"...Did you love her?"
"Of course I did, Gareth," she chided half-heartedly. "She was my sister. She was family."
Family...
"Cecilia, do you remember my mother?"
She nodded. "Yes, she abandoned you and your father took you in. Isn't that right?"
"Yeah... and do you remember how I sold my cuirass a few years ago? Before we wed?"
Cecilia tilted her head, "Gareth?"
The memories came back, unbidden. A woman in a blackshawl stood at his doorway, rainsoaked to the bone. Her face was vivid, still as proud as he remembered, but age was not kind to her. She begged, pleaded. Begged for money, begged for protection. Demanded it on account of his familial ties. He owed her.
Embers of rage stung in the back of his mind. Gareth bit his lip. "She... abandoned my father and I to marry a yeoman. They had children. He died. His family cast her out. She and my half-siblings were destitute."
"And the money you got from the breastplate—"
He nodded, "—was enough to send one of Uncle's representatives, fetch them, and then buy them a home in Corby. On the condition that they'd never know who I was."
"That's why you never wanted to go to town anymore."
"Yes," he admitted. "I felt… used, I guess. Weak. But I knew that I couldn't live with myself if I just let them suffer. She abandoned us, she deserved no mercy... but her children were innocent. I could have destroyed them, instead, I took a chance."
Cecilia's brow nit upwards.
Gareth stroked her cheek. "Just like you did."
She leaned into him. Her muzzle gently rubbed his cheek. "Because they're family."
That... affected him. His throat closed up, forcing down a hitch. Tears blurred his vision, a few swipes of his fingers brushed them away, but they were not stopping. No... no damn it, he was meant to be comforting her, not the other way around.
"Alright, enough of this," Gareth closed the book, placing it back on the pile and snatching a scroll. "What else do we have here?"
Huh, a stack of papers. Research papers. A jolt rushed through his veins. Noble Era's research papers!
Gareth abruptly stood, "Cecilia, a diary! Noble Era was researching your diary! It had entries from when you were just going into the mirror!"
"Are you certain?" Cecilia asked, deadly serious.
"Yes, I dropped it outside Noble Era's window yesterday afternoon! Wait, why didn't I tell you back in your—" He froze, his eyes widening. The rat; that bloody, plague-ridden--
A white forehoof planted itself on his chest. "Gareth, focus. Are the papers still here?"
"Yes, they'd have to be!"
She stood with him, moving to the door. "Then we haven't a moment to lose. Let's go, Gareth."
'I was right. I cannot change them.' The line came back, still as vivid as when he first saw it.
He glanced to Cecilia, did she really have no idea? Could she really have been lying to him? The sooner they had those papers, the sooner he would have his answers…
They slowed, both panting from the mile-long sprint. The sun hung low over the castle's roof, casting a long shadow.
Cecilia's head flicked about, looking near the bushes. They retraced his steps: he picked up the papers there, then walked over to the tree, and then he… he must have dropped them.
The papers were not there.
"FUCK!" Gareth yelled, boot cracking into the base of the tree. He slammed his palms into it, throwing his head down as his blood boiled over. No answers. Again. Was God testing him, or mocking him?
"Do you remember anything from the pages?" Cecilia asked.
"Yeah… as a matter of fact, I do," he huffed, turning back to her. "One of the pages said 'I was right. I cannot change them'."
She blinked in confusion.
"Each page was dedicated to one sentence," He took a step forward. "What I just said was one of those sentences. Between that and all the sketches in The Castle of the Two Sisters, there is no way you have only been to England once. How long have you been watching us, Cecilia?"
She took a step back, eyes widening and wings rising, "Gareth, I don't know what you are talking about--"
"You know exactly what I am talking about!" Gareth roared, jabbing a finger at her, "You've always been watching us, even when I first met you, you were sketching me! You seriously expect me to believe that you haven't? Why would you have risked coming through otherwise? Why didn't you have a group of your guards watching over you in case you didn't come back?"
"Gareth, I--"
"What, did you think that I was an idiot, that I wouldn't notice?" His throat tightened. "Was this always just a game to you? Or where you intending on leaving me too--"
"GARETH!" Celestia's voice filled his ears. Her face was red and eyes wide. "I-I honestly don't know what you're talking about! I don't remember... I don't remember any of it. And as far as I know, that was my first time in the Mirror. I wish I had answers for you, I really do, b-but I don't! I just... don't... and I'm sorry. Everypo-- everyone is always looking to me for answers, but I just don't have them!"
She stared at him for a while, the fear in her eyes matched his own.
"Cecilia..." He trailed off, the words weren't coming to him.
"Gareth, I'm just as afraid as you are, and for different reasons," she walked up to him, biting her lip, "You're afraid that I'm going to betray you. I understand that, people who were very close to you, people who should have loved you, cherished you, they hurt you, a lot. Let me tell you what I'm afraid of... I'm afraid of losing you. I'm afraid that... someday I'm not going to have the answer, or I'm going to be wrong and you'll suffer for it, or you're going to... just not... love me any more."
Gareth squeezed his eyes shut. He placed a hand on her neck, "You're right, I am afraid. I'm sorry... I-I lost control. But I want to be clear on this, you have your secrets and I mine, but please do not lie to me. Once you remember, I want the full truth."
She placed a hoof on his hand, "It's okay Gareth; if that's what you remember from the notes, then I'm just as scared as you are. Now... did you really see some of my sketches back there?"
"Yeah, I did," he sighed, rubbing his face. "Well, that's about as close as we're getting to the truth tonight. We can use the pegasus express to check it out tomorrow. I'd rather not have any adventures at night."
There was a thud of falling wood from the forest, "Wait, Cecilia, did you hear that? The barrel trap!"
Drawing his dagger, Gareth gestured Cecilia to stay behind him. She perked a brow and walked up beside him.
"Alright, now, stay—"
"Behind you? Gareth, do you remember what I did to that cart last night?"
How could he forget? Popped off wheels, unconscious guards, and power enough to turn night into day, all in a matter of sec— oh.
"Yes, yes, I remember," Gareth grimaced; he still wasn't putting his dagger away.
"As do I," She smiled. "Allow your most gracious lord to protect you."
"Hah." Gareth felt sorely tempted to take her up on that.
They approached the barrel trap, its plank had been knocked down. A common issue, Gareth should have nailed it to the barrel itse--
There was a rat sitting next to the barrel... a black rat munching down on a sugar sprinkled pastry. He recognised the design, it was one of Butter Pie's.
Holding his dagger out, Gareth inched towards the plank. If he could pick it up, then all he would need is just one quick strike and it would be all over. The rat didn't seem to particularly care, lazily waving at him, heedless of its imminent demise.
Gareth froze, "did that rat just wave at me?"
"Yes my child," Cecilia replied in a patronising tone. "Fear not, you are within the wings of the most high."
"Oh, do shut up."
With a yawning chomp, the rat stuffed the rest of the pastry into its mouth. For a second, its skull distorted and swelled to almost twice its size. Within a few bites, it swallowed, returning to normal.
"By God's bones, please tell me you saw that," Gareth whimpered, stepping behind Cecilia.
Cecilia groaned in disbelief. The rat squeaked up at Cecilia. A few moments later, she spoke in Equestrian, staring at it. Then the rat squeaked again, waving its paws around. Cecilia continued.
They were having a conversation. His wife was having a chat with vermin.
"Oh-ho, he's quite a charmer!"
"Excuse me?" Gareth spluttered.
"And apparently he's hale and hearty, who'd have guessed?" Cecilia sneered. "He told me that his friend, a chubby grey pony, had given him that treat as a reward for giving us a page of the diary." She gestured down at the rat, who quickly ran around the other side of the barrel.
The rat returned with a scrolled up piece of paper. It bowed to Cecilia, handing it up to her.
"Cecilia, please tell me you're not—"
She glared at him, "oh, stop it. He's helping us." Her magic plucked it from its paw. The scroll unfurled with a flick, her eyes quickly scanning the lines. "Gareth, look, it's your armour on the front! Let me see the other side…urgh, yes, I figured as such. While that line is in English, the rest is encrypted in another language. If Noble Era was still awake he could have told me where my diary is. Unfortunately, he's still unconscious."
"It's not in Equestria?"
Cecilia shook her head. "No, it's Limerick. It uses the same font, but uses totally different words."
"Ah." A thought crossed Gareth's mind. The younger sister controlled the moon, and then Cecilia came to control it later. The young sister could also go into other people's dreams -an unnerving idea if he dwelt on it- but if Cecilia could control the moon…
"Cecilia, what about your sister's dream magic?"
"What?"
"Her dream magic," Gareth continued. "You learnt how to move the moon, what's stopping you from finding out how to walk in dreams like she did?"
Cecilia looked away, her face locked in thought.
"...Nothing?" Gareth asked.
"I can't believe I hadn't thought of it. You're right, that's what I need to do," she decided. "I'll head back to The Castle of the Two Sisters and look over my sister's old notes. In the meantime, I need you to find the rest of the pages."
Gareth frowned, "How? The only person I can think to question is the groundskeeper, maybe Styre or Butter Pie, but that is it. I'd need a hunting dog to track down the other pages."
Cecilia smiled, "Funny you should say that, just a moment."
She turned away, exchanging some words with the rat. It chirped in confusion, glancing at Gareth, then to the dagger in his hands. A few more urging words from Cecilia and it slowly nodded, giving her a jolly 'thumbs up'.
Gareth pulled his dagger closer. He was not throwing it away.
"Excellant!" Cecilia turned back to him. "Gareth, this rat is not supposed to be here. However, he and his family may stay on staff at the castle provided he helps you find the rest of the pages."
"WHAT?" Gareth yelled, unable to keep the disgust from his face. "Have you gone insane? Think of the contamination, the poisoning, they're filthy beasts! Cecilia, just because you're a pony here doesn't mean that I'm immune to the plague as well!"
"Gareth," this time Cecilia was gentle. "Dogs can also catch the plague. I've never seen an Equestrian dog with it."
"Yes, but the animals here are weird!" Sweat began prickling all over his body. He paced back and forth, giving Cecilia a pleading glance. "Cecilia, please, I love you, but don't make me do this. I see what happens to people who catch the plague! I don't— I don't want to die like that!"
She screwed her eyes shut for a moment, opening them as she leaned over, gently touching his cheek. "Gareth, I know that this is harsh, but I need your help. I will not make you do this, but you are the only person that I can trust with this. Please."
Gareth balled his hands into fists. He glared down at the rat, who waved cheerfully. A growl rolled up his throat.
"Fine," he ground out. "I'll do it, but on two conditions. One, it stays on the end of that plank and two, I come back in my armour; lavender, beeswax and all."