The door to the Heart’s Knowledge, the greatest library in Helios, was hideous. It was pockmarked, scored with the heavy damage of years spent in neglect. The solid old oak tree that had given its wood to the door had held up over the centuries, helped along by powerful spells of preservation. However, no amount of spellwork could fully stave off the passage of time, with each successive year marking another deep warp to the wood.
The hinges were fastened to the door with large bands of blackened iron, darkened by the forge rather than soot. The same spells that preserved the wood were anchored in the metal, and had at least held back the inevitable rust to a minimum. Thin bands of metal wrapped the solid door, anchored to two ornate hasps, cutting a small furrow in the wood when it had expanded in some long forgotten year. Even the small cuts and nicks in its surface didn’t show the pale flesh of new wood. They were the same darker hue, where grim had sunk so deeply into the timber that it blackened the surface, and the deeper layers too.
But for all that the ancient monstrosity was ugly, it was still a masterfully built door. It fit snugly into the frame, some subtle spell keeping it perfectly sized, so that not even an ant could squeeze past it. It was heavy oak, and with that weight came the comfort of strength, and almost boundless resilience to the world. The ancient door kept the library it guarded a still, nearly silent place. And finally, it was all but utterly silent. No creaking of arthritic lumber, nor the faintest squeak of hinges. Though time had worn on the old wood, it still guarded its treasure with the same care as it had in bygone ages.
Not unlike its Princess, Luna thought with a smile. Though Celestia was by noponies measure an ugly sight, she was just as deeply scarred by time’s passage as the wood. And like the door, she too can be an obstinate bulwark when she wants to protect something.
Luna shook off the thought, her smile fading a little. Even if that protection does more harm than good.
The Night Mare pushed the door open with a nudge of her hoof. The silver shoe scraped against the wood with a soft sound, before the door swung in silently. Delicately, doing her best not to disturb the lattice of spells surrounding the entrance, Luna stepped inside the Library.
Inside, the library was surprisingly dark. Nopony wanted to risk the wealth of knowledge in this room with torches, or even small candles. A few braziers were scattered about, enchanted to burn slowly for years without attention. The small braziers wafted a sweet smoke into the air, one that smelled to Luna like wet rock. She recognized the scent of Spider’s Delight. It was an herb used to keep away pests, creating a semi-magical barrier that even most magic devouring insects couldn’t pass. It also had the pleasant side effect of being a mild soporific, calming anypony who inhaled the smoke of the burning weed.
Though the room had no windows, the wide pathways were easy to find with the aid of a small magelight. The problem was that Luna’s magelights, ironically, illuminated next to nothing, as her magic was only a shade or two lighter than her coat. Luckily, while her directed magic was black, her body was forever sheathed in a layer of silvery energy. That glow was more than enough for her to see by, after a moment to adjust to the dimness as the door swung shut. With a small smile at the title of the nearest book, she set off through the library.
Most of the room was still a cluttered mess, with books and scrolls jammed without any apparent regard to order. Texts on flight were bracketed by notes on the reproductive cycles of gryphons. A book on farming was set haphazardly atop a pile of scrolls on advanced alchemical formulae. While most of the clutter was contained to the shelves, more than one previously precarious pile had toppled. The resulting flood of paper tended to block off most of the pathway between rows.
Her shoes made soft chimes as she stepped around the piles, and walked through the library. It appeared that her hoofsteps were the only sound in the entire room, a quiet echo of her past with each movement. It seemed that everything was peaceful in the library, even if the entire place was such a disorganized mess that only the curator of this demesne could possibly find anything by some metric other than blind luck.
Which she was coming to realize was fairly descriptive of her wife. She found Twilight’s mix of mania and kindness to be a rather endearing feature, and the comfortable clutter suited her.
Not that it made finding anything, particularly a young mare, any simpler amidst the kerfuffle. With a sigh, Luna plucked at their strengthening bond as gently as she could. The mental connection vibrated slightly, and the Nightmare began picking her way through the dark room with more certainty.
Turning a corner, she smiled. Twilight was sitting at a table halfway down the aisle. She had attached half a dozen candles to the table, shining a bright, warm glow about her. The table looked like one conjured with magic, too simple to fit with the elegant, if dusty, surroundings.
Luna kept her steps soft, walking slowly over to where Twilight was slumped over the table. What she saw made the dark Princess smile.
Twilight was slumped forward, resting her head on the table. Several papers, all bearing Twilight’s rapid scrawl, were being employed as a pillow. Her mouth hung open slightly, emitting a small snore with each slow breath.
Luna lit her horn, gently lifting Twilight’s head. A thought conjured a velvet pillow, and she neatly swapped the pillow for the notes. She let Twilight’s head fall back onto the pillow, chuckling when she began to snuggle down into the softness.
Curious, Luna scanned the pages she had saved. Twilight’s words were cramped, but legible enough. They seemed to be largely disjointed though, jumping from a note about the leylines leading to the Waste, and into another about researching grindstones. It took a moment, but soon the pieces clicked, and she felt another warm smile grace her lips. Smaller piles of scrolls littered the rest of the table, some precariously close to the wax dripping from the candles.
Careful not to wake the slumbering mare, Luna settled herself beside Twilight. What she had written was intriguing, and Luna was curious now. Unfortunately, she ran into a problem.
When Twilight had conjured the table, she had conjured a table she could comfortably sit at. Luna, however, was almost twice as tall, and she just frowned at the annoyance. A moment’s consideration laid her options before her, and forced a reluctant laugh from her. She didn’t have much choice, she could either enlarge the table, letting it fit her larger frame, and possibly wake Twilight up. That option was immediately discounted. Which left her with a simpler solution. She knelt beside Twilight, feeling the mare’s warm side brush hers as Twilight inhaled. She folded her hind legs, shivering when her belly touched the cold floor.
Her shiver seemed to rouse Twilight, who mumbled something into the candlelight. Luna quickly sent a soothing pulse along their bond, calming the young mare and sending her back into her slumber. She smiled again, a small, personal little smile, and settled herself. Her wing slowly lifted, and wrapped around Twilight like a cloak. With a soft peck to her cheek, Luna turned to read the papers hovering before her.
Twilight stirred a little more than an hour before the sun would begin its daily journey through the sky. It sometimes shocked the mare, to realize that even hidden away in the depths of the Heart, she could still easily keep herself to her schedule. Still, her bed was awfully comfortable. Her blanket was draped over her, warm and inviting. Silky feathers brushing her sides in time with her steady breaths.
Twilight opened her eyes, and suppressed a smile. Her pillow was drowsing peacefully, face relaxed in sleep. For all that the Night Mare held sway over dreams, it still surprised Twilight to see how serene Luna was in repose.
It was a little embarrassing for the newest Princess, but every night for the past week, she had woken like this. Cuddled against a strong, soft body, with one of Luna’s wings sheltering her. It never failed to bring a measure of serenity to Twilight, no matter how manic she had been when she finally drifted off. Last night, she had been awake for hours, busy doing research and drawing up plans.
Now, even though she still felt the need to complete her work pressing on her mind, her heart was content to bask in the moment for just a little longer. Ever since their wedding, Twilight had been more and more willing to listen to her heart, and see where it lead her.
For a moment, Twilight cursed Rylias for causing so much trouble. She and Luna had been set to travel to Selene, where Twilight could be introduced as Luna’s consort officially. The ceremony in Helios was official as well, but it was a show, something to set the nobility and the Council at ease. Even if the Selene marriage was almost identical, Twilight had felt Luna’s desire to be wed within her own realm, where nopony could contest her claims to Twilight’s affection.
That sense of pride, mixed heavily with fondness and a dash of desire, had been one of the reasons Twilight had come to feel so much more at ease with her wife. Luna had been coerced, somehow. Twilight felt certain that it had something to do with the night that they had first met, when Luna had met with Celestia privately. Something had happened, and it had forced Luna to seek a wedding. Twilight had been willing, if not thrilled, to do her duty to Helios, and to help out a mare who was rapidly becoming one of her few friends.
After that first night, when Luna had come to her in her sleep, Twilight had felt a similar rush of affection wash through her. It wasn’t lust, not entirely. It was a feeling that, with great care to keep the thought heavily shielded, Twilight believed might be the beginnings of love. Maybe not the grand, sweeping romance of fairy tales, of the saucy romance novels from Selene, but love all the same. It had the same quiet, endless strength she had seen between Shining Armor and Cadance. But it was too early for her to be sure, and Twilight made sure to keep her mental barriers up in those moments of introspection.
Not that she didn’t trust Luna, she thought, snuggling closer to her pillow. Luna made a soft noise in her sleep, too gentle to be a mumble, and shifted her weight. Her other wing stretched out as she shifted, flapping once before tucking itself away. When she was done, Twilight was nestled a little closer to her wife, both mares lying side by side.
Twilight giggled and rubbed her neck over Luna’s, shivering a little as her soft black mane tickled her throat. After a moment of hesitation, Twilight shifted herself slightly, and pressed a soft kiss behind Luna’s ear. She had found that the alicorn mare was sensitive there, and even in the depths of sleep, Luna purred at the touch.
Sighing happily, Twilight let herself lean into the warm weight next to her, closing her eyes. She really, really didn’t want to get up just yet. But she knew she couldn’t put it off much longer, either. Again, she sent a silent curse at Rylias, and to the courier who had ruined her honeymoon. If that stallion had waited just a few hours, they would have been happily on their way to Selene. Pip had left at dawn that day, tending to their, okay, her, baggage. Just as they were set to leave, the stallion had burst into the entrance hall, shouting about needing to see the Princess.
And from there, everything had gone downhill. A week of waiting, everypony on edge, to see what the mobilization of several flights of dragons would do. A week, without Shining Armor, who had been running himself ragged trying to adapt his small force to fighting dragons, rather than gryphons. A week, when Cadance had simply vanished, without a word to Twilight, leaving a note on the door to their suite apologizing. A week, when Princess Celestia had been equally difficult to find, often buried in paperwork or meeting with some general or other.
That last one had made Twilight furious. Princess Celestia had been her ward for years. Yet now, when her organizational skills and swift pen would be of the most use to the Princess, when they were most needed, she wasn’t able to help. Princess Celestia’s scribe was the only pony able to attend the private meetings, kept bound that way by ancient magicks. And to Twilight’s fury, she was no longer that scribe. Instead, she was a Princess with nothing to do, no way to help, and she didn’t know what was going on.
In the end, she had sequestered herself in this library. She had been here all week, studying as hard as she could to adapt the commonly practiced healing spells into something she could use. It had taken her days to learn each spell, and she had only mastered one of them, a small cantrip to heal minor wounds. It was a popular spell, one that sealed small nicks and cuts, as well as healing large, shallow wounds, like sores and very mild burns. She hadn’t had a live subject to practice on, and found the thought of cutting herself revolting, but she was confident that she could cast the spell.
The other two were much more powerful, a bone setting spell, and a fairly gruesome flesh melting curse. The first was fairly simple, just exhausting. Every medic learned the spell, which could be cast in several ways, depending on the power a unicorn fed into it. Twilight had felt pretty sure that she had the power to cast the full charm, which would instantly and painlessly repair broken bones. However, the spell had been known to produce horrific side effects if the spellcaster wasn’t skilled enough, or ran out of power halfway through casting. The other spell, the curse, was one she would leave to the medical professionals. Light knows the kind of damage she could cause accidentally.
She had worked herself to exhaustion, often forgetting to eat. And when she woke, like today, she would find Luna resting beside her, with a wing shielding her from the world. If she hadn’t eaten enough the day before, a tray of breakfast would be set on the table. But it was always a safe, happy place Twilight awoke to.
Sadly, now she had to get up.
Slowly, Twilight rolled her shoulders, brushing close to where Luna’s wing met her flank. The touch was one she had learned from one of her books on anatomy. In pegasi, it activated a reflex action that moved a wing. In a sleeping alicorn, the wing didn’t suddenly flare up and away from the touch, but it did lift enough to let a young mare slip away without waking her wife. She carefully extricated herself, and kissed Luna softly on the cheek.
Twilight paused at the small door, weighing her options. She could hear a muffled clatter and bang coming from the other side, but she had yet to see the door fly open. Either the pastry chef was still asleep, which Twilight personally thought was impossible. She had yet to see the sugar crazed mare slow down, much less sleep.
And if she wasn’t asleep, then the moment she walked into the kitchen, she would have to fall flat or be clobbered. Somehow, that mare ALWAYS knew.
Still no response from the door. Twilight’s belly growled, an uncomfortable ache making very clear her body’s thoughts on the matter. If she were buried under a cake, well, she would just have to eat her way out. Sometimes, Twilight thought that her tummy had a hidden agenda.
Sighing, Twilight carefully approached the door.
Already expecting it, Twilight dropped to her belly. The door swung open with a shouted warning, the edge barely an inch away from her nose, and a colossal cake sailed through the air, hurled along the passage with incredible strength.
Not for the first time, Twilight wondered what in the world happened to the assorted goodies once they reached the end of the hallway.
Brushing that aside, and taking an appreciative taste of a splotch of frosting that landed on her hoof, Twilight walked into the kitchen. And promptly stepped to her left, dodging as a spoon wizzed through the air. The projectile thudded heavily into the door, quivering.
“Oh, its you lass.” The colonel grunted, trying to appear gruff. “What’re you doin’ down here at this time o' day?”
Twilight grinned, and nodded to the spoon. “A spoon? Why a spoon?”
“Because its dull, you twit. It’ll hurt more.” He retorted, lifting another spoon from the drawer near him. “Want an example?”
“I can hardly believe you stopped tossing knives at everypony who walks in.” Twilight teased, taking a step closer to the Colonel. The sheep didn’t notice, too busy looking over his shoulder.
“SWEET RADISH! I TOLD YOU TO ADD THE YAMS AFTER YOU SIMMER THE ONION!” He roared, making a young mare squeak with fright. She dropped the yam she had been holding, barely catching it before it splashed into the bubbling pot.
“Anyway, what can I do fer- OY!” He yelped, dancing back as his array of cutlery suddenly lifted into the air. “Now lass, there’s no need for rash actions. We’re all friends here, aren’t we?”
“Of course we are.” Twilight said, smiling. A pair of butter knives pinged off of the large pot lid the sheep had grabbed. “I just thought I should return fire.”
“I dinna think that’s really needed, Princess.” He grunted, staving off a flurry of small forks. “Besides, didn’t you come for a reason? Not that I don’t love your company!” He quickly added, scrambling behind the bend in his counter as half a dozen sharp knives attempted an early shearing.
“I did, as a matter of fact,” Twilight sniffed. She lifted a pair of delicate looking soup spoons, inspecting them while she spoke. “I was hoping to see if I might scrounge some oatmeal. With cinnamon. And brown sugar. Lots of brown sugar.”
“What!” The Colonel shrieked, poking his round head out. “You want me to ruin perfectly good parritch! You can’ even taste the bloody oats in it with as much blasted sugar as you like!”
A pair of forks had been sneakily moving around the counter while they spoke, and jabbed the sheep in the rump, making him jump and squeal. Just then, another scream of, “DOOR!” echoed through the room, and a relatively small chocolate pudding came sailing towards the duo.
The Colonel’s eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. He couldn’t do anything but watch the pudding barrel towards him, like an oncoming locomotive. Suddenly, there was a firm jerk on his hooves, and he crashed into the marble floor with a huff. The door swung open, and the pudding sailed through it neatly.
“Ow. Thanks lass.” He muttered, rubbing his rump irritably. He didn’t look particularly pleased when he went on. “I suppose I should see about getting you that parritch.”
“Thank you,” Twilight said with a small curtsy, voice positively saccharine. “That would be lovely.”