//------------------------------//
// A Dazzling Place 
// Story: Crystal's Hopes 
// by Crystal Wishes 
//------------------------------//

After days spent staring into an endless view of the blue sea reaching out into a blue sky, there was finally something new to see: Saddle Arabia.

Crystal leaned against the ship's railing, the salty air brushing through her mane with the exciting taste of the adventure that lay ahead.  She had spent too much time shackled to Silver Script's side, writing and revising the script tirelessly.  Now, she was enjoying a welcome reprieve while he finished the last scene so she could watch them pull into the harbor.

Al-Jawhar, the Jewel of Saddle Arabia, truly lived up to its name.  While the surrounding desert was barren, the city was graced with palm trees and lush greenery in between the buildings that rose up like tall dunes of sand.  Spiraling towers reached higher and higher to oversee the goings-on below, their tops glinting with brilliant blue roofs that matched those of a large building that had to be the palace.

With several large and wide domes, the palace looked down from its perch high above everything else, its walls made of smooth white stone that stood out against the sand-colored city.  Its extravagance was palpable even at a distance; Crystal guessed it was the same size as the entirety of Canterlot itself, and it absolutely took her breath away.

"Beautiful, is it not?"

Crystal's ears perked and she looked over her shoulder to see Faizan approaching.  "Oh, yes!  Absolutely magnificent."

Faizan smiled, his gaze fixed on the city ahead.  "My home.  I have known no other.  She is an oasis in a cruel desert."  Clicking his tongue, he looked at her.  "How much do you know of my home?"

Crystal opened her mouth to respond, but hesitated.  Slowly, her ears started to droop and she recoiled like a scolded foal.  "I thought I knew enough, but I'm starting to doubt that."  She offered a weak smile.  "Tell me about it, please?"

A swell of pride was visible in the way the stallion stood tall.  "We do not have your magic.  Saddle Arabia does not have your unicorns, your pegasi, your alicorns.  There is only us, and we are strong."

Quietly listening to his every word, Crystal looked between him and his home, wonder and excitement filling her.  Al-Jawhar had been built with painstaking labor around a natural oasis, expanding the bountiful resources to support an entire city of horses.  Horses who had no magic and did everything with solid hooves incapable of the feats Equestrians could accomplish with their own.

She knew these details from reading books, but they were only details before.  Now they were intimate.  Real.  Powerful.

"Malika Shafiqah has brought a prosperous time for Al-Jawhar.  We have more than we have ever had before.  I pity those who do not live within our walls."

Crystal scrunched up her nose, trying to connect what she knew with what he was saying.  "Malika Shafiqah, she is your—?"

Faizan smiled at her.  "She is our Princess Celestia.  Kind, benevolent, and wise beyond her years."  A wistful sigh escaped him.  "If only the malika were an alicorn.  In my lifetime, she will pass into the next world.  I can only hope the next malika will continue her legacy."

"Oh," was the only response she could give.  The idea of Princess Celestia or Luna passing on was nigh unfathomable to her, and almost gave her chills.  Somepony else raising their sun and moon?  Somepony else sitting upon their thrones?  Somepony else caring for everypony in Equestria, protecting them, and—in Luna's case—playing board games with them?

She couldn't imagine an Equestria without Celestia and Luna, and hoped she would never have to live in one.

"Ah, but these are not the things you wish to hear."  He chuckled, raising a hoof to gesture at the port they neared.  "We will walk through the souq.  Do you see all of the bright colors?"

Crystal followed the direction he pointed and squinted.  Sure enough, just past the docks were countless stalls, their cloth roofs each a bright white, red, green, or yellow.  "Yes."

Faizan smiled.  "You will find anything your heart desires in the souq.  We are prosperous."  The smile fell into a light frown.  "Ah, but I do not believe we will have time for that.  What a shame."

"Really?  Oh.  That is a shame..."  She sighed, watching the robed figures move about the open bazaar.  The closer they got, the more details she could see: namely the colorful garb the Arabians wore as protection from the sun.  Though it was the same sun that she knew in Equestria, it was somehow different.  It felt closer, hotter, harsher—almost cruel.

"I'll just have to come back some time," she continued, "as a tourist instead of on business."

Faizan bobbed his head.  "So long as you ensure you have a guide."  He raised a hoof and set it on her head, much like a parent teasing their foal.  "A little pony like you would get lost in our big city."

Crystal huffed lightly, shooting him a playful glare.  "I am an adult little pony, thank you very much."

He gave a good-natured laugh.  "Is that so?  It is hard to tell.  Equestrians are all so small and live like children."

The thought startled her into silence, and he quickly amended, "I mean no offense.  We simply come from different worlds."  His gaze shifted back to Al-Jawhar.  "We do not have the love and protection of your alicorns.  Equestria is...  How to say it?  Sheltered?"  He frowned, flicking his tail.

A somber feeling took hold of her chest as she nodded slowly.  "You're right, so no offense taken.  I've come to realize just how sheltered we are these past few months."

Before they could say anything further, Silver Script's voice from above broke the mood.  "There you are!"  He tucked in his wings to dive down, landing between them.  "I've been looking all over for you!  Here, here, read.  I'm finished.  Read!"

Crystal tried to smile at how Silver sounded like an excited foal, but her heart was sinking.  The last scene.  The scene she didn't write, didn't want.  She did her best to keep her expression even as she held the papers in her magic and read over them.

FATINAH (narrating):  I knew this was the right choice.  Khalil and Ghareeb looked happy—truly happy, a happiness I had never felt.  I stood between them not as their wife, but as the mare who brought them together.

Camera pulls back as FATINAH looks out across the desert and starts to walk away, still wearing her bridal dress.  KHALIL and GHAREEB follow her, side-by-side.

FATINAH (narrating):  That was when I knew that, somewhere out there, was my own happiness.  I just had to find it.

Fade to black on the setting sun.

"It's perfect, don't you think?"  Silver puffed his chest.  "It's open for a sequel, as well!  Perfect!"

How could Crystal describe the way she felt?  There was a complicated, muddled mess in her head.  The only thing she understood was that she wanted to cry.

Fatinah wasn't happy?  No, no, no.  That wasn't how it was supposed to end.  Fatinah was supposed to be happy at the end!  What was the point of it all if Fatinah wasn't happy?

Silver's chest deflated, his wings drooping slightly.  "You don't look like you like it."

"It's what Majesty wants," Crystal said in a soft, defeated voice.  "I don't know if it matters how I feel."

Silver furrowed his brow and went silent.  The three of them stood there for a while before he sighed and snatched the papers out of her magic.  "Well, it's done, and with no time to spare, either."  He tucked his wings in to his side.  "We'll be docking soon.  Come on, we need to all go get dressed."

"Dressed?"  Crystal tilted her head as he started to walk away.

Faizan bobbed his head to urge her to follow Silver.  "Yes.  Your fragile Equestrian coats will burn under our sun."

"Oh.  Oh!"  Crystal flashed him a smile before trotting after the pegasus.  "Right, of course."

Descending into the sleeping quarters made the need for proper clothing all the more evident.  She had been out on the deck for less than an hour, and stepping into the cool shade below deck brought to her attention how hot she was.

A pile of folded pink clothing waited on her bed, and she lifted them up in her magic to put them on.  There were three pieces to the ensemble that she recognized from her books: the thwab, a large robe that went all the way from her shoulders to her hooves; the keffiyeh, a headpiece that had holes for her ears and an opening for her eyes; and an agal, a rope to go around her forehead to secure the keffiyeh.

Excitement replaced all her previous feelings of gloom as she pranced out into the hall.  These were the clothes Fatinah wore!  Well, these were much more extravagant, with silver embroidery that she marveled at, especially knowing the work that went into such intricate patterns.  Fatinah was a simple mare and wore simple white cotton, but nonetheless—it felt like she had stepped into her own writing.

"Crystal?"

Ears flicking, Crystal turned to see a pair of blue eyes peering out through the opening of a light yellow keffiyeh.  "Oh!"  She beamed.  "Golden!  You look so pretty!"

Golden's brow furrowed.  "There's absolutely no form to this.  I might as well weigh twice as much as I do under this shapeless cloth."

Crystal waved a hoof, giggling at the way the thwab shifted and moved from the gesture.  "What do they say?  Sometimes the imagination is better than the reality?  You could weigh half as much as you do, too!"

"Then I would likely be dead," Golden muttered, but Crystal could see the smile reaching her eyes.  "Nonetheless.  I believe we are docking shortly.  Shall we?"

"We shall!"  Crystal pranced up the stairs.  "I feel like a little filly on Hearth's Warming morning.  The reality of Saddle Arabia is so much more than books can describe!"

Golden walked alongside her, her natural gait the same speed as Crystal's prancing.  "Well, then, it's a good thing your story will be a film."

The casual statement felt like a kick in the gut and Crystal nearly tripped over her own hooves.  She swallowed, slowing her prance to a normal trot.  "Oh, yes."  She laughed woodenly.  "Yes, I suppose that's true."

Above deck, Saddle Arabia was in view again, much closer now.  The extravagant boat seemed terribly out of place in the Arabian waters, surrounded by wooden fishing boats of simple design.  There were a few merchants' ships near the docks with colorful sails, but they looked like toys next to Majesty's ship.

The three Arabians aboard stood where the ramp would be lowered as if they could not get off the boat fast enough.  Crystal could hardly blame them.  Prince Majesty had sent the boat to pick them up, brought them to Equestria, and turned them right back around.  It made little sense, but that seemed to be Majesty's way.

As Crystal and Golden approached them, the sounds of their native tongue reached her ears.  It was a rapid language that sounded like music, with the way vowels and consonants flowed together like wine.  The occasional guttural sound slipped in with ease and without interrupting the cadence.

"Ana afham," Djamila said, pausing to look over at Crystal with a pleasant smile.  Instead of engulfing cloth, she wore layers of gold jewelry and a mixture of solid and sheer purple fabric.  Every movement she made was accompanied with a light tinkling.  "Are you ready, Crystal Wishes, daughter of Upper Crust?  Golden Pants, daughter of Lyrica Lilac?"

Golden winced and shifted beneath her thwab.  "Golden is fine, please."

Crystal nodded quickly.  "As is Crystal."

Djamila arched her brow.  "But that is impolite.  We are not friends."

"Dja..."  Wajdi flashed his teeth as he nipped at her side.  "We will be working with them for quite some time.  Make amends."

"Amends?"  Crystal's ears folded back.  "I apologize if we've offended you, it certainly wasn't intentional, whatever we did."

"Offended?  Oh, silly little pony."  Djamila laughed, but there was little mirth in the sound.  "You know nothing.  You write this story, but you know nothing of us.  Of our home.  I find you of the same caliber as my niece, who has seen her fourth year.  She tells tales of her own imagination, as well."

Crystal's breathing grew haggard as she tried to focus on it rather than Djamila's words.  Could she argue?  No.  The Arabian wasn't wrong.  What did Crystal know?  Nothing.  She did know nothing.

"Oh, please."  Golden stepped forward to put herself between Djamila and Crystal.  "You think you're better than us?  You know nothing."  Golden's thwab swished as her tail lashed.  "Crystal is more than the daughter of Upper Crust, the Writer.  She is stronger than you, certainly.  You're just hiding behind your little barbed words."

Djamila's nostrils flared and she lowered her head to Golden's.  "Mind yourself, little pony."

Laughter broke the tension, startling them all to look over at Faizan as he laughed freely.  "Djamila, you—"  He gasped for air.  "Djamila, you are acting like a child, yet you are calling them children?"  He shook his head.  "Your anger betrays your sulking."

Djamila whirled to face him, her legs splayed slightly as they slipped on the smooth wooden planks.  "Faizan!"

Crystal blinked a few times.  "Sulking?"

"Yes."  Wajdi sighed.  "Djamila has always wanted to visit Equestria.  She took this opportunity because she thought the filming would be there, but when the ship turned around, she threw a tantrum."

"Agleg famak!" Djamila yelled, glancing between them all, her demeanor shifting to that of a shy filly.

"Oh, then—"  Crystal felt a weight lift off her shoulders and she stepped forward.  "Then, perhaps—perhaps what you said to Majesty about changing the ending, was that out of anger?"

There was a pause before Faizan shook his head and said, "It may have been brought up out of anger, but she was still right."  His gaze fell.  "Two stallions should not wed without a mare."

Wajdi snorted, but said nothing.

Golden cleared her throat.  "Well, it is what it is.  I expect now that the air has been cleared, Djamila, you will call us Golden and Crystal.  And you'll treat my friend with more respect."

Djamila didn't look at her, instead staring angrily at the two stallions.  Crewponies came over and started to lower the ramp, and Crystal looked up, startled to see that the boat had already stopped.  All prior thoughts vanished when she looked at the port, at the bazaar, at the city—all so close she could hear, smell, and feel it.

Horses moved from stall to stall, the pockets of their gilded and embroidered saddles filled with their purchases.  Voices yelled over other voices to grab attention, likely advertising better and better prices than their neighbors.  The scents of fresh fruits and spices drifted on the breeze, enticing her to try them all.

The moment the ramp was lowered, Crystal just couldn't help herself.  Perhaps she was a little foal-like pony after all, but for the time being, she didn't care.  Her hooves hit the uneven planks of dark wood and she looked around at the dockworkers carrying boxes on their backs.  She heard her name being called and hoofsteps following her, but she kept moving forward.

Saddle Arabia.  Al-Jawhar.  Arabian horses.  She was among it all!  Her hooves stumbled when she stepped off the docks and onto the hot sand that gave way under her weight.  The strange sensation of walking on sand didn't slow her down too much, but it did give time for her pursuer to catch up.

"Little pony," Faizan's voice called and the stallion was at her side in an instant, unhindered by the shifting sand.  "What did I tell you about getting lost?"

Crystal didn't look at him and allowed her gaze to wander freely.  The air was hot, the sand was hot—everything was hot.  A fountain stood in the center of the bazaar, crystal clear water jetting into the air and falling down in a dazzling display.  Was its water hot, too?  Crystal wanted to find out!

Faizan, however, put a hoof down on the hem of her thwab and she nearly fell from the sudden force.  "Stay.  We must all stay together.  Calm your excitement."

"But—"  Crystal beamed up at him, her heart racing.  "It's all so wonderful!  I didn't understand!  I read about it, I dreamed about it, but I didn't understand!  I feel like I'm in a whole new world, Faizan!  I'm so excited!"

"Then you will have to come back as a tourist, as you said."  He chuckled and looked over his shoulder.  "We do not have the luxury.  Your Prince Majesty, son of Prince Success, the Producer"—the formality dripped with a bit of sarcasm that brought Crystal back to reality—"has set quite a tight schedule."

Crystal's ears drooped slightly and she relented with a sigh.  "I will have to do that, certainly.  All right."  She looked behind her to see the entourage of ponies heading their way.  She forced a smile, even if it couldn't be seen.  "This will be its own fun, I'm sure."

"I am sure," Faizan repeated without an ounce of certainty.

Prince Majesty trotted forward, his thwab and keffiyeh both a deep royal blue and embroidered silver stars.  "Crystal, Crystal, Crystal!  You gave me quite the scare, running ahead like that!  I know you're half as excited as I am to begin filming, but you ran right past a very important pony!"

Crystal blinked.  "I did?"

"Yes!  Please, now, settle down so I can introduce you to the film director, Magic Hour."  He stepped to the side to reveal a lanky pony with glittering, sequined, and feathered garments.

The copper eyes that looked at Crystal seemed to bore into her soul, accentuated by eyeliner and mascara.  However, the voice that came from them was—albeit airy and a little feminine—decidedly that of a stallion.  "Oh.  My.  Stars!  Finally, we meet, pet!"  A hoof the color of the evening sky slipped out to touch her cloth-covered cheek.  "Aren't you just precious?  Tut, tut, running off like that!  If you think this little hub of mercantilism is fascinating, sweetheart, then you are in for a surprise."

Crystal could only gawk, even if she wasn't surprised.  Such a large personality fit Majesty so well that she had expected the director to be the glamorous, over-the-top pony he clearly was.

Magic Hour winked, the glitter of his eyeshadow catching in the sunlight.  "Just follow my lead and I will take you to paradise!  Yes, everypony, let's be on our way!  If the little princess wants wow and ooh-la-la, then she must get to the set immediately.  Come, come!"  He trotted ahead, giving nopony any option but to follow him.

As they walked through the bazaar, Crystal's sense of wonder returned.  The Arabian language shot through the air from all directions, and her ears got quite the workout trying to keep up with all the foreign words.  She saw merchants haggling with customers; she watched a colt running after a filly; she felt the abundance of life flowing through the entire city.

"Oh!"  She perked up and looked over at Golden, who was walking at her side.  "Look!  Equestrians!"

Golden glanced around, then spied the same group Crystal spotted and rolled her shoulders in a light shrug.  "Tourists, most likely."

Crystal giggled like a filly and started to prance, but the slippery sand scolded her by giving way.  She cleared her throat and resumed her normal pace.  It was a struggle to walk through the sand, more so than she had anticipated.  "It's too bad we can't stop to say hello.  I wonder where they're from, what they're going to see, who—"

"Keep up, pet!" Magic Hour called from ahead.  "I scouted the absolute perfect location for filming, but it will take us two hours by walking, three by dawdling!"

The excitement was once again drained from Crystal and she nearly collapsed under the sun that felt suddenly a lot hotter than hot.  "T-Two hours?"

Golden swallowed audibly.  "Why did I agree to come along?"

"We could hire a caravan," Djamila said in a light, mocking tone as she looked over her shoulder with a smirk, "to carry the dainty little ponies."

Crystal glanced at Golden and saw the same hardened resolve in her heart reflected in those big blue eyes.  "No," they said in near unison.  "We're fine."

The group moved out of the bazaar and onto a large street that led to what appeared to be the main city gates.  They stood tall, much taller than had to be necessary, and were flanked by equally tall statues of rearing horses with fiery manes.  The hindlegs of the statues were slightly off; instead of ending in hooves, they seemed to be rising up out of something.  Swirling sand, perhaps?

Beyond the gates lay the Great Desert that Crystal had read so much about.  It was a desert of ever-shifting dunes, traversed by nomadic herds known as Bedouins, who believed in powerful, unseen forces called Jinn.  Fatinah belonged to a herd that followed the Jinn of Fire.  Would Crystal encounter an actual Bedouin while out in the Great Desert?

The possibilities were endless, just like the horizon of sand that stretched forever onward, and her heart pounded with anticipation.