For Whom the Night Calls

by NH3

Chapter 2

The next morning, Three Dee heard a gentle knock at his door. At seven o’clock in the morning, he had still been unable to get a wink of sleep, too burdened by his woes and fears for the future. His insomnia was definitely worsening, and would continue to worsen in light of recent developments.

Fired. He had actually been fired. Although he was twenty-five, and full of youth, he couldn’t actually recall ever being let go. Of course, he had never been fired before, and now, it was a tremendous blow to whatever shreds of self-esteem he had left. Dull labor and monotonous life tended to do that to a pony: they tore at whatever he loved, and what he was meant to do spiraled out of sight, down the drain. It seemed that no matter where he flung his hoof, he wasn’t going to grab his calling in life. And now, he felt more worthless than ever.

There was more knocking, but this time, a little harder, and Three Dee remembered that someone currently waited at his door. He huffed at his exhaustion and proceeded to toss it aside, along with the sheets he kept warm in.

I’ll worry about it later, Three Dee thought through the haze of his mind as he slid out of bed and onto his hooves. Shaking himself into awareness, he approached the door as the visitor knocked again, and reached for the doorknob, turning it with the care he would a volume knob.

Before him, Vinyl Scratch stood in his doorway, a black bag in her mouth, and goggles nowhere to be seen. She let loose her trademark grin of borderline dementia as the string was caught in her teeth. Three Dee wasn’t particularly amused, though, and wordlessly stepped aside to let her in. Her smile subsequently fell as she stepped into the apartment and aimed for the nearest kitchen counter. Her horn glowed and magic levitated her recent purchase ahead of her to come to rest.

“Hey, Three Dee,” Vinyl murmured, clearly affected by the mood he was in. “How are you holding up?”

“I guess you heard?” The purple pony whispered.

“Shaker told me when he got off. I stayed at the club all night. I was wondering where you were after a while, because I had a nice mare for you to meet, but now…” she trailed off to uncertain grounds as Three Dee’s head drooped towards the ground. “I…I’m sorry…”

“It’s not your fault,” Three Dee stated it with an irritated rasp to his voice—something he instantly regretted as the words lingered in the air between them.

“…Three Dee, can you just talk to me? I may be no Element of Harmony…but I am your friend…” Vinyl frowned as Three Dee veered past her and into the kitchen, lifting his front hooves to lean against the counter and peer inside the bag.

“Hard cider,” he remarked, before trudging to a cupboard next to the rusty fridge. He opened it up, but before he could reach for the shot glasses up high, a bluish-white aura surrounded them, and they levitated over his head. His head followed his gaze, and they fell upon Vinyl, who had already uncorked one of the giant bottles, and was proceeding to fill them up to satisfaction.

“Vinyl,” he huffed. “I have work in three hours. I can’t drink right now.”

“It’s just one drink that your pegasus metabolism will burn off in less than an hour,” Vinyl growled, now angry over the misfortune of her friend. “This is the least you deserve. Just a small break.”

She floated one of the filled glasses over to him, before smiling a hesitant smile. “Please?”

Three Dee paused, sighed, and gave in, lifting his hoof and balancing the glass upon it. As the aura dissipated, he lifted the drink to his mouth and gulped it down in one go. It stung and settled unpleasantly in his empty stomach, but already he felt better. And he wanted water too.

He quickly rinsed the glass out and filled it up again with water, which he drank. He refilled the glass several times before the dryness in his mouth quelled at last. Vinyl levitated her glass into the water stream as well, and left it to dry on the dish rack nearby.

“Listen. I don’t normally go to bed until about noon. If you want to talk until you have to get ready for work, I’m here,” Vinyl Scratch soothed as Three Dee stumbled back to the bed, and she kept firm at his side. Her words, combined with the lightweight guarantee of a pegasus, got through to him this time, and before he knew it, he had climbed back onto the cushioned bed, and he was crying again.

The tears didn’t tear a path into his soul like last night’s did, but they were still very bitter, and they made him feel weak. He didn’t want to look weak, especially in the eyes of his friend and idol.

Too late, Three Dee thought as he clenched his eyes shut, and felt a pair of warm front legs envelop him. He slackened in her grip, partially because of the loosening effect of alcohol in his system, and buried his face into her shoulder, hoping that it would plug up the tear ducts. No such luck: they stained Vinyl Scratch’s nearly flawless coat beyond the immediate reach of his face.

His situation dire, it spilled itself from his lips as he cried. He confided in Vinyl that his injury had seriously hindered his efficiency to do nearly anything, and thanked Celestia for universal healthcare, but it almost meant nothing. His hooves had been bruised from all the running he had to do for the past three weeks, and he was always running late now, because what took little time on wings took too long on foot. He was genuinely scared. He didn’t want to leave Canterlot—and morally, he couldn’t, though he would not tell her why. But making ends meet in the capital city was a challenge too great for him, and he didn’t want to be homeless. And he didn’t want to lose his other job either.

Eventually, he calmed done, and the clock on the nightstand nearby began to flash eight o’clock. He heard it buzz, and then a small slam as Vinyl wacked it off the surface with her hoof, and for the first time since he had gotten fired, he laughed at her antics.

What started out as a simple, crude way to shut off the alarm clock quickly degraded into a short wrestling match on the bed as the ponies began to fight like foals. Vinyl won, because Three Dee was smaller than her, and he suspected that she had cheated with magic, but he didn’t care. Joy was flooding through his being again, and suddenly, things didn’t seem so bad. Sure, he was out one job, but he could definitely find another. And the tips from last night, not to mention the aid he would receive in the mail from Shadow Stride, would keep him afloat on the costs of living for long enough.

Breathless, the ponies sprawled on the mattress, a smile on each of their faces, before Three Dee rolled off the bed and shook off the dizziness. “Okay, I better get ready for my day. Help yourself to whatever you like.” He smiled at Vinyl Scratch, who looked perfectly content to be lazy in his bed, before slinking into the bathroom and shutting the door behind him with his back leg.

He quickly washed up in the shower and composed his appearance, making sure that his mane wouldn’t have its two different colors blending together as he combed himself all over. He took a quick glance in the mirror, hopped to attention in a battle pose, and grinned with the light of a challenge in his eyes, before laughing at his continued antics. He felt like the same pony again. Life felt manageable.

Three Dee left the bathroom behind, and found Vinyl Scratch chowing down on cereal in the kitchen. He raised an eyebrow with his smile. “Isn’t it technically dinner time for you?”

“Only on Saturdays,” she explained.

“It is Saturday.” Three Dee challenged. Vinyl shrugged.

“Whatever,” she let out, and Three Dee’s hoof smacked against his face in mock exasperation before he walked over. Vinyl opened the fridge and levitated over milk, letting him discover the bowl that had already been set out and filled for him. Considerately, his friend hadn’t put milk in it yet, which was good. Nopony liked cereal soggy.

“Thanks,” he acknowledged, gripping the carton and opening it before pouring it into his bowl. Afterwards, he capped it, and Vinyl’s spell took it away from him to replace the milk in the fridge. Three Dee eagerly grabbed his spoon nearby and started to eat.

“So what’s your plan, Three Dee? How are you going to make money flow again?” Vinyl Scratch asked between bites.

“After my shift, I’m going to stop by the palace and see if Joy Bringer can pull some strings.”

“Joy Bringer?”

“My sister,” Three Dee clarified. A thought was spared towards the glory of Cinnamon Toast Munch. “She works as one of the servants.”

“Don’t you think that’s aiming a little…high and low at the same time, Three Dee?” Vinyl asked. “I mean…few ponies want to wait on others, and even fewer have the cutie mark talents to do so…I think.”

“It’s worth a shot. And I think I owe it to my sister as well. We haven’t talked in…well, so long…” Three Dee’s gaze wandered off to horrible times, before his thoughts reverted back to his cereal in a saving grace. Vinyl didn’t press for more information.

“I suppose. It seems beneath you, though. You may or may not deserve to work your way up in the world, but not in that kind of work,” Vinyl continued.

“It’s not like I have many choices. It’s an opportunity, though,” Three Dee’s spoon clattered in the empty bowl, and he felt revitalized as he leaned over the tiny counter and down to the sink below it. He gently let the dish come to rest inside, before speeding off to his closet by the front door.

“Whatever you think is best, I suppose,” the white pony muttered as her friend dug out the yellow straps in his closet. “Is that your uniform?”

“Standard for pegasi.” Three Dee confirmed as he began to buckle it around his figure. “Usually, unicorns wear vests, and earth ponies don a fusion mix of the two.”

“Ah.” Vinyl let out as she floated her dishes into the sink as well. “I suppose I best be off to my place, then. You have a fairly decent commute ahead of you.”

“Sure, no problem,” Three Dee smiled, before stretching out his front leg. Vinyl trotted over and accepted the hug, providing one of her own as well.

“Thank you for coming. I’m really a mess without you,” Three Dee smirked as he buried his smile into her shoulder.

“No problem. I like to see ponies happy,” Vinyl smiled as she broke away, before her nose began to twinkle. “Huh. You smell like blackberries.”

Three Dee mildly blushed, but it soon faded off. “T-Thanks. You smell like…” he took a moment to debate the smell lingering in his nostrils, which was soon followed by his most incredulous face. “Jasmine?”

Vinyl Scratch suddenly released a yell and a whoop. “I knew it would work!”

This was promptly followed by her boisterous exit of laughter to a joke Three Dee didn’t even know about. Before he could swing the door shut, she said her final goodbye, before continuing to laugh. Three Dee closed the door, shook his head in bemused confusion, and began to search his closet for a utility pouch that had somehow been disconnected from his straps.

=

This was usually how Luna ended her Friday evening and Saturday morning cycle of consciousness: sprawled out on her bed, her mane scattered about beneath her with the hints of a fizz, and as much desire to keep lazy and shut up as she did to speak right now with her therapist, Perception. In truth, she’d rather be alone, attending to some activity on her own, like reading or one-player chess—which was not as flawed as everyone might think, though. With the intelligence of an alicorn, it was more like an intimate puzzle.

“So how did the recent negotiations with the griffon kingdom make you feel?”

“So how did the recent negotiations with the griffon kingdom make you feel?” Princess Luna sharply mocked in a whiney voice, before lifting her follow-up glare towards the psychologist sitting in the armchair off in the corner. “You know I hate it when you do that.”

“My apologies, Luna.”

“Whatever, Perception.”

This was, so far, how close they had gotten in their weekly appointments. They were on a first name basis—something which Luna found both relaxing and dreadful at the same time. Long ago, familiarity was nearly exclusive to her royal family fellows. Today, familiarity was almost expected of her. There was no denying it: the absence of a thousand years followed her everywhere.

“So what was your opinion on them?” She simplified, and Luna grunted her disapproval of the question. Still, she chose to answer, rather than make Perception’s life harder, because both of them knew that she would make Luna’s life just as hard.

“Pointless!” That was the word that erupted from Luna’s muzzle, and though she hadn’t been looking for it, it did suffice. “It was all so stupid. It was more like a house visit! There was no talk of problems, no debate of politics, no discussion of debate—it was boring! Boring, boring, boring! A touch-base, even!”

Luna’s brow furrowed as she stopped flailing her legs about. Throwing a tantrum didn’t solve anything, but complaining alone had been a wonderful release. So she continued with her line of thought: “I mean, a thousand years ago…”

The thought abandoned her. She had said too much. Nearby, she could hear Perception as she lowered her writing pad. She twisted her head to watch as the psychologist removed her barrier glasses.

“What was Canterlot like a thousand years ago?”

That’s it! Time’s up! Princess Luna instantly decided as she buried her head underneath one of the pillows she had kept nearby. While her face was out of view, she cast a spell with her horn, reaching out to the clock on the dresser by the glass balcony doors and adjusting the clock so that it read nine o’clock instead. Afterwards, she waited.

“Oh, my! It already appears to be the end of our session,” Perception suddenly let loose in her calm voice. “But I think we’re making process, Princess Luna.”

And back to formalities. Where we belong!

“I wouldn’t personally know, doctor, but I’ll try to dwell upon it over the week,” Luna gently placed the pillow aside, having gotten off the neurotic train express with the falsified end of the hour. She sat up and slipped off the bed as daintily as she could in the presence of another, before turning to face Perception. “Thank you for your services.”

“It has been a pleasure, Your Majesty,” the doctor bowed before treading her own path out, glancing at the watch strapped just below her front hoof and releasing a tsk as she didn’t like what she saw. “This watch always seems to be running slow or fast. It’s brand new, too…”

Luna’s magic sneakily shut the doors behind her therapist without a sound, and she sighed. She didn’t think they were making progress at all. She never felt any better after talking with the psychologist, and she was supposed to be the best. There must have been something that she just couldn’t understand though.

But as it was, she already knew, and she already understood her latest mistake. She didn’t realize it during her appointments, but after each one, she realized that the much preferred the company of even a distanced pony like Perception than the emptiness her room tended to bring. Try as she might, though, she could not banish the feelings of resentment over the time she had to spend in these sessions. Perhaps everypony around her would have an easier time if they weren’t trying to decipher her on all scales of life.

As she walked over to the large mirror near her desk, she examined the damage her inherent need for rest had brought her. Her mane had gotten a little frizzy with the increased humidity the sun had brought out that morning, and tossing it around on her bed hadn’t particularly helped either. Usually, the stars in her mane were reflective of the constellations, and just like them, were more prominent when the moon hung in the night sky. Now that morning had come, many of the stars were no longer visible, except for those in the two constellations that she considered her personal favorites: Orion and Andromeda. However, they were out of place—something Luna knew she absolutely had to remedy as she levitated the hairbrush on her desk from the evening before. It would soon be time for breakfast, and she made it a point to never show weakness in front of her sister again.

One she finished taming Betelgeuse and Alpheratz back into their difficult spots, the brush was levitated away, and she briskly trotted out of her room, passing by the Royal Guards stationed outside of her room for this rotation of shifts. Her gaze passed over the giant halls of mahogany, black marble and purple granite, and was in admiration of how they had stood firm against the tests of time during her dreaded absence.

What she liked most about her personal wing of the castle, though, was the almost-labyrinthine design. There were a few grand hallways to pass though, but plenty of smaller passageways and hidden stairwells were omnipresent as well. The plans she had drawn up those millennia ago had been fairly reflective of her residual paranoia: in the event that she was under attack, under pursuit, and the Guard was suspiciously absent, to this very day the blueprints of the Lunar Wing were embedded in her head. Today, her paranoia still lingered, but its usefulness proved sparse: an occasional slip of the attendants, or perhaps a peruse of Canterlot from an unfamiliar balcony were the only times it liked to kick in, and she wasn’t a pony who particularly enjoyed being startled.

As she took the most straightforward path through her own royal wing, she eventually came to an entryway passage that joined up with another. This other path led to her sister’s living domain: the Solar Wing. While the princess was fairly familiar with that wing, it was not her final destination as she continued through the castle, in hunt of the royal breakfast.

A couple grand staircases and a fair amount of walking later, she entered the private dining area for the princesses. This was the room used for the times that she and Celestia weren’t hosting formal banquets and dinner parties, and with such a purpose, it was used fairly often.

There were two more stallions stationed to flank the doors as she whisked it shut behind her with magic, and the wafting smells of several delicious foods entered her nose as she held it up for scent analysis. It was a combination of a succulent breakfast and a hearty dinner, fairly common when Celestia and Luna dined together, seeing as Celestia was on a daytime schedule, and Luna lived at night.

The Princess of the Sun herself currently sat at the left end of the long table before her, levitating a cutlet of juicy lettuce to her mouth as she perused a newspaper. This routine was fairly common: Princess Celestia abandoned the use of silverware for simplicity when she wasn’t concerned with her public image at the immediate moment, and regularly tried to read the Canterlot Post, preferring this source of information to her dull reports. However, she did not hesitate to switch the newspaper out with books, reports, drafts, and other documents when her days as a princess severely demanded that her duty be done. Once, sometime in the last year, Luna had come for her dinner, and found her sister with a fortress of books, her own food abandoned. It turned out that she had discovered the genre of urban fantasy before going to bed and had stayed up all night, checking out most of the genre collection from the Royal Library and powering through it. Needless to say, it had been an off day for her afterwards.

“Good morning, my dear sister,” Celestia took notice of Luna’s arrival, and kept a piercing gaze upon the dark alicorn as she maneuvered to the opposite chair and took a seat. Combined with the dashing smile, Luna knew that Celestia was hoping to sooth her. It wasn’t going to work.

“Morning, Celestia,” Princess Luna replied as a couple of servants trotted over and placed a few pitchers and a personal glass on the table. The pitcher with grape juice was coated with a navy-blue aura, and promptly floated over to the glass before her, before tilting over to fill it up. “Did you have a good night’s sleep?”

“Indeed, I did,” Celestia smiled as she floated a glass of water to her lips and took a sip. Luna returned the pitcher to the table. “How did Night Court go?”

“Fine,” Luna replied, perhaps a little too quick and forcefully. The truth was that it hadn’t been close to fine. Every session of Night Court she held was a painful reminder that she had missed a thousand years, and that she still couldn’t seek out the trust of their subjects. The most recent one to transpire hadn’t been much better. Two walk-in appointments were granted: the first was the griffon ambassador touching base with her after the previous afternoon’s meetings with Princess Celestia. The second one was the representative for the Royal Astronomer School in Canterlot, who formerly requested that she inspect the observatory, which had recently been renovated.

It wasn’t even that they had showed up, but that was only the better side of the situation. Neither one of them had even bothered to make an appointment, which begged the question to ring in Princess Luna’s head all night: why? Were they expecting such low attendance for Night Court, or did they feel that her presence in the royal palace could merely be brushed off, and as such, could wait for the sun to return? Just thinking about it weighed down Luna’s heart, but she ordered it to remain firm: once it cracked, there would be no turning back.

“…And how was your appointment?” Princess Celestia slowly asked, sensing the turmoil past her sister’s single word response.

“Pointless,” was the reply again, and Luna couldn’t help but wonder just how many times she could apply the word to the different aspects of her life. Her therapy was pointless. Her Night Court. Her presence. Her work. Pointless. Pointless pointless pointless pointless, and not a single spark of hope was shining on the horizon. Just the moon she rose every night—which, after viewing pictures from the last decade before her return, was a role in which her partaking of border-lined optional: Celestia, after a thousand years of practice, could paint the navy skies and light the shadowy nights with as much skill as her sister. And Luna didn’t believe her when she said that her own nights were art, and that Celestia could never do them like she could.

Bull, Princess Luna had thought, and she thought the same upon her summons of the memory. Was every pony ignoring the problem? Or could they not see the problem right in front of her?

Could she?

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that…” Celestia looked a little down after hearing Princess Luna so aptly sum up the usefulness of appointments she helped arrange. “Would you like me to cancel all future appointments?

“Not yet,” Luna answered with tradition, before levitating the grape juice to her lips and drinking some of it up. The past year had been a taxing one for the sisters: this wasn’t the first time they had partaken in this conversation. Moving on, Luna couldn’t help but remember the passing importance of the griffon negotiations. “By the way, the griffon ambassador paid me a visit. I concurred with all the progress we’ve made on trade agreements and mutual aid on the border.”

“Excellent, Lulu,” Celestia smiled again, and Luna groaned out loud. She hated that nickname.

“Why do you call me that?” She asked with a growl of irritation and a small glare towards the white alicorn.

“Habit, I suppose,” Celestia answered, before hiding her amused smirk behind a cup of tea. Luna rolled her eyes as Celestia put down her tea. “I do which you would call me ‘Tia again, though…”

“Celestia, we’ve been over this. We’re grown up! We’re not foals anymore,” Luna defended herself adamantly.

“But we are sisters. Why can’t we rely on that for our familiarity?”

“‘Lulu’ is derogatory!”

“You know I only mean the most affection for you when I call you that, Luna.”

“But I’m not clumsy anymore!”

“I never called you ‘Lulu’ because you were clumsy as a foal. I called you Lulu because you were dear to me.” Celestia let her cup float down to an empty saucer with a clink before looking at Luna with a greater measure of seriousness. “You’re also dancing around my question, sister.”

“I am not dancing around the question.”

“Then answer it.”

“I already have!”

“The claim that your nickname is derogatory is not an answer for why you won’t refer to me as ‘Tia, though.” Luna inwardly cursed at her sister’s stunning ability to stick to the point of a conversation. She chose to stay quiet. She had escaped the eventuality of her feelings on the matter before, in similar conversations for the past year. She knew she could do it again.

“So please, Luna. Why can’t we be familiar as sisters?”

A longest pause descended upon the room. Even the soldiers at the door and the servants at hand on the side felt it, and while the mares at work shifted nervously, and the stallions shared a subtle glance with each other, Luna stared down her sister, pressing into their conversation with one of the nastiest silences she had ever summoned with the absence of her answers. Not a thought ran though her being as the demon inside her yearned for the evil of that lost voice, and even as she quenched it once more, she felt it clawing at the rusty bars of her iron will prison.

The stillness of the room was suddenly broken by the faintest clatter of metal to the side. Luna didn’t lose her focus, but Celestia chose to watch as a pink unicorn tentatively approached, gently levitating a covered plate over to the table surface in front of the Princess of the Moon.

“Y-your dinner is r-ready, Your Majesty,” the mare continued to tremble as she set the dome down, and the noise of such brought forth Luna’s attention on the object before her. Magic enshrouded the cover immediately after, and was whisked away to present a glorious supper of daisy-fruit salad, made from the finest plants picked in Equestria.

A moment passed, and a dark blue coated a few of the utensils. They lifted into the air before depositing themselves among the food.

“I’ll be taking my meal in my room this morning, instead,” Luna decided with words that cut through the air, before slowly standing and leaving the dining room behind.

=

Later that day, a purple pony trotted out of one of the warehouses in the shipping district of Canterlot, doing his best to maintain an upbeat mood. It wasn’t particularly working, however, especially since his destination wasn’t the club he usually bartended at. Of the two professions he worked, his work at night had easily been the preferred of the two, and to have lost it meant more to him then the loss of future paychecks. With a sigh, he began the formidable journey on foot up to the Royal Palace at the topmost point of Canterlot. Normally, it would be a few minutes on a speedy wing, but on the ground, it was half-an-hour on hoof.

Despite the universe’s best attempts to wear down his hooves and mock him for his crippled wing, he trudged on. The sun didn’t help, and today’s weather schedule hadn’t even called for a soothing breeze, much less the exhilarating roar he would’ve experienced flying through the air. About halfway there, he chose to rest on the cobblestone and against a building. A lot of ponies glared at his unwelcome presence for a moment, but most of them let their detestation transform into pity when the saw the bandages around his right wing. Despite that, someone had indeed chosen to complain, and while Three Dee hadn’t caught sight of that pony, he did spot the pair of guards walking down the street, straight towards him.

“Sir, I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to ask you to move along. This neighborhood doesn’t take too kindly to the homeless,” one of the guards stated as they stopped in front of him. Three Dee grunted as he stood, now sore instead of hurting.

“My apologies, guards, although I’m not homeless as you think. I merely stopped for a rest, but I’ll be moving along now,” Three Dee responded, keeping as courteous as he could, even as the lie slipped past his teeth. He didn’t have a home, per se. He had an apartment. A residence. But to Three Dee, that was as much a home as the rest of Equestria.

Wise words came to his mind from his days as a college colt: Home is the place where, when you have nowhere else to go, they have to take you in. Three Dee sighed at the memory, more from depression than nostalgia. He didn’t have anybody to take him in.

As he moved along, the palace towered far over him, and almost seemed to grow in height as he continued to get closer. It was almost intimidating from the ground, and he had no wish to continue towards something he could not currently conquer with his wings. But still, he pushed himself through the city. Right hoof, left hoof.

The palace gates were finally upon him, and of course, they were locked tight, and flanked on each side by a guard. Logic dictated to Three Dee that this couldn’t be the only way into the palace, and even then, the palace didn’t have to be his ultimate location. The guard quarters or the servant entrance would suffice.

Bravely, the purple pony approached one of the white guards, maintaining a respectable distance. “Excuse me, but I’m looking for my sister. She works as a servant, and I was wondering where the servant entrance was.”

Three Dee didn’t get a reply, and he huffed at the stubbornness of these ponies to do their job. Once more with courage, he decided to physically approach the ebony, golden-lined gates, as he could remember them being open for court in the morning when he was smaller. However, they were of course, firmly locked, and neither guard attempted to stop him as he raised his hooves and gave an experimental push. Those stallions were only there for show, unless he broke down the metal, cast a spell against it, or flew over the gate, none of which he could currently do.

He backed away out of consideration for the guards, just in case he was making them nervous, and began to trot the lap around the palace, searching for another way in that didn’t involve breaking the law.

It took him a few minutes, but he eventually found a booth next to a smaller gate, flanked by a single stallion in armor and with an uptight, green unicorn inside. Three Dee approached, hoping that his search had come to an end.

“Excuse me, but I’m looking for my sister, who—”

“Name!” The exclamation was so harsh that Three Dee felt like someone had shouted at him. He leaned his head forward, confused.

“Three Dee?”

The unicorn glanced at his red-and-blue mane and rolled her eyes. “Your sister’s name.”

“Oh, sorry. Um, Joy Bringer?”

The unicorn’s horn glowed as she started magically shuffling through stacks of paper inside the booth as the grounded pegasus awkwardly shifted from hoof to hoof, almost hopping in place as he waited.

“Ah, here’s the file!” The unicorn exclaimed with suppressed glee, before opening it. “Why, yes, it does appear that you’re recorded as family. She’s even included a picture of you. There might be some paperwork allowing you entrance as well.”

Three Dee was forced to play the waiting game once more before the green mare found it. “Ah! Here it is!”

“Great!” Three Dee praised, glad that this was going so well.

“However…” the purple pony’s ears drooped a little at the sound of that. “The paperwork calls for an escort as well, to be called off at the whim of your host. Fairly typical, though I hope you’ll understand.”

“Oh? Is that it?” Three Dee questioned, his mood holding.

“Yes. I’ll just ring for a guard to come,” the mare already seemed so much friendlier as her magic ringed a bell that was gentle and soothing to the ear. Three Dee instantly liked the sound of it and asked the mare if she knew what kind it was, and possibly what musical pitch it rung in. However, she didn’t, and promptly apologized for it. By sheer coincidence, the escort showed at that moment, and Three Dee thanked her as he was guided through a small courtyard and into one of the smaller branches of the palace itself.

Despite their bonds of siblinghood, Three Dee and Joy Bringer hadn’t remained close when they grew up into stallion and mare. However, Three Dee knew that Joy Bringer was one of the few servants who lived in the castle itself, fulfilling every requirement and dodging every prohibition to do so. The servants who remained in the castle for the majority of their time lived in a series of apartments set aside and away from the wings of the rulers and the nobility who also occupied the castle on business or pleasure, temporary or not, so that there wouldn’t be any ruses among the different-classed ponies. Despite this segregation, the apartments were very, very grand themselves, which was probably why living in them constituted so many bullet points to be followed.

Three Dee had debated the idea of moving into the apartments as he worked his hours that day, but he knew that it was incredibly unlikely to happen. He thought it viable that he violated more of the rules to do so than he could possibly know, and that they remained mostly incurable. Plus Three Dee felt he was a very free spirit. The idea of a job in the castle sounded almost violating itself, but he knew it was his best opportunity, and so emphasized the notion of sucking it up and doing it.

The guard led him through a pair of grand doors and up some smaller staircases until they had reached the fourth floor, and Three Dee’s hooves were beginning to hurt again. Fortunately, it was a short walk down the hall before he was presented with a tall set of doors. They were a brilliant hue of white with onyx designs elegantly drawn upon the entire length, forming abstract patterns that made little sense to Three Dee, although he was able to form a few random words from all of the squiggly lines. There was no real message to discern, though, and he was sure he would have caught it, considering his talents.

Tentatively, he reached up a hoof and knocked on the door. There was a lengthy pause before a pinkish aura enveloped one of the doors, opening it, and allowing a pony to poke her head through.

Joy Bringer, despite being the younger sister, was actually slightly taller than Three Dee, who had apparently grown short instead. She was a pink unicorn with a white mane and tail, complete with several red streaks that gave her the appearance reminiscent of a peppermint lollipop. When she saw her big brother with the guard directly behind him, she didn’t smile, but calmly requested the guard to take his leave from this point on—a request that went fulfilled, as per the paperwork she had filled for potential guests. She swung the door open a little wider, and gently allowed Three Dee to enter.

Three Dee glanced around the apartment, which was far more spacious than his residence, though it adopted the design of wide open space instead. There was no illusion though, and it came complete with state-of-the-art accommodations that included a spectacular kitchen, a fine sitting area, and a luxurious bed. Through a small door, he could spot what appeared to be a grand bathroom, and as he heard the door shut behind him, he started to turn to compliment the place, only to be greeted by a hoof to the face.

The purple pony recoiled back as the candy-coat color of the mare suddenly seemed to be the most threatening thing to him in the room. He stumbled onto his flank as his sister advanced.

“Three! Dee! I told you never to see me again!” She yelled in a shrill voice that was fairly becoming of the situation. The purple pony’s head hung down in shame, although the thought that the paperwork allowed him in trickled somewhere in the back of his head.

“I-I’m sorry, little sister,” Three Dee stuttered as he felt his cheek with his hoof. It still stung a bit.

“What else were you expecting?! Do you think I would have forgiven you by now?!” She yelled, demanding an answer.

“To be honest…I wasn’t thinking about it,” Three Dee whispered the truth of it all.

“Why are you even here?! Why are you even back in my life?!” Suddenly, an immense force carried Three Dee right off his hooves, and the pink field expanding out from his little sister confirmed what had happened in a moment: lack of control. Simply coming here had angered his sister into losing all restraint when it came to her magic—something he should’ve considered, if he let himself think at all about the consequences of coming.

The magic outburst sent Three Dee flying straight into the bed frame, right against his broken wing, and the purple pony screamed in agony as if a flame was set to his feathers and left to fester. The pegasus crumbled to the floor as pain seethed through his extra appendages. He whimpered and let a tear leak out as the pain came crashing down in a steady collapse, and continued to do so until it was an ever-present throbbing. He heard hooves rushing forward.

“Three Dee! Three Dee! Oh, buck, what happened to your wing? I’m so sorry, my magic has been fluctuating a lot lately, and I was just so angry, but—oh, big brother, I never meant for you to get hurt! I’m so sorry!” His sister continued to rant through hysterics as she checked him over, sincerely sorry at the potential damage she might have called “Should I send for a doctor?”

“No, Joy Bringer. I’m fine,” Three Dee lied as he shakily stood up again. Joy Bringer continued to fret over and around him as he did so, before he spoke again. “Although if you wouldn’t mind, I’d prefer to rest on the bed for the time being.”

“Of course, Three Dee! Anything for you!” Joy Bringer exclaimed, levitating her big brother right off his feet and onto the mattress. As he landed, he sighed: that was as close to flying as he could get nowadays.

“Can I get you anything?”

“Water would be nice. I mean, please, Joy.” Three Dee corrected himself. He didn’t know anything about servitude, but he suspected that servants didn’t get nearly enough of the thanks they deserved and a minimum of respect and courtesy to the service they provided.

“Of course,” Joy answered before quickly trotting away to the kitchen. As Three Dee watched, she opened a cabinet, floated a tall glass out, closed it, and turned on the faucet to fill it with water. All with magic, and sometimes even multitasking the actions. He couldn’t help but feel that big brother pride for her little sister. Even if his little sister had just hurt him. Nothing to be done about that, though: big brothers were forbidden from hitting their little sisters. Ever. Forbidden by their parents, and then themselves. Three Dee cast a small thought for their parents as he thought that though, and squelched memories down as Joy Bringer returned with a glass of water in her magical grip.

“Here,” she said, floating it to his hooves. He gently clenched it before drinking deep, and suddenly, his toils in reaching the palace didn’t seem so bad. The pain even seemed to fade a little. Such was the magic of favors from his family.

“Thank you,” he said when he had emptied the glass in one go.

“You’re welcome,” Joy said as she levitated away from him and transported it to the counter without moving a muscle. She sat down on the floor and faced Three Dee’s prone form. “So how did that happen?”

Three Dee quickly glanced at his injured wing, glad to find that it hadn’t bent out of its set position. The thought of a doctor having to break his wing because it didn’t properly set sent shudders up his spine. “Brawl. Rough night at the club got out of hand real quick.”

“Three Dee, didn’t I tell you not to work in dangerous places. A club is a perfect example of a dangerous place!” Joy Bringer, ever the cautious one, had issued many warnings to her bigger brother over the years. He had always been in the habit of ignoring them. Free spirit and all.

“Joy! A club is a wonderful place! It’s the only place I sometimes feel like I am truly alive!” Three Dee gently scolded, before sighing and laying his head against the covers. “It doesn’t matter, though. I got fired yesterday.”

“Oh, I’m sorry about that, Three Dee,” she replied, using his name like it was one continuous word. It sounded like a nickname that way, one which the purple pony in question didn’t truly mind.

“It’s okay. But that’s…kind of why I’m here,” he continued, doing his best to forge a segue. “I can’t lie to you, sis. I’ve stumbled upon some bad times. I was working two jobs before I got fired, and I was barely making ends meet. And you know my dreams to be a big pony, and how badly I want to break into the music scene, and someday even write stories and books. But…my special talent isn’t coming through.”

Three Dee’s eyes watered up a little at his admission of defeat, and he couldn’t help but scan over his sister’s cutie mark: a heart with a smile inside of it, set upon a yellow circle behind that. It was fairly clear what Joy Bringer’s special talent was: she made other ponies feel happy again, helping them in their times of need and living for the benefit of everybody around her. The day she had gotten it rung in Three Dee’s mind: they had been raising money in school for charity, and she was elected to deliver the money to the hospital it was meant for. When she did, she was so enamored by the smiles of the littlest and sickest foals she got to see afterwards that her eyes lit up, and suddenly, her cutie mark appeared. The memory cheered him up a little as he continued.

“I’m just…a little bit…in dire need of your help,” he let out the words as he struggled to find them. “I’m hoping you can…pull some strings…and get me some work here in the castle.”

A long pause descended upon them, and Three Dee swore he could hear his little sister’s heart battling it out. He knew she was naturally inclined to help him because he was her brother, and it would make him happy, but she was still angry with him about what he designated their ‘separation’ although it was more complicated than that. And clearly, she hadn’t completely forgiven him. Frankly, he deserved that, but he hoped that his sister could come through.

Finally, she spoke: “Okay, Three Dee.”

The stallion smiled his brightest smile that day, and jumped forward to tackle her in a choking hug. “Oh, thank you thank you thank you thank you so much Joy Bringer I love you so bucking much right now I promise I’ll repay you for this and everything else that has happened between us!”

“Okay—Three—Dee! Ack! Choking—here—big—brother,” she coughed out, and Three Dee bashfully got off of her, now embarrassed. She slowly got up and shook herself clean.

“I think I can do you one better. Servants in the castle earn more bits than you think. I might be able to start you off with a salary that’ll allow you to quit your second job.” Joy Bringer announced.

Three Dee paled, and his jaw dropped wide open. Joy began to carefully scrutinize his face.

“Big brother? You alright?” She asked.

“Yeah…if I start moving though, I’m going to squish you again. Give me a moment,” Three Dee let out as best as he could without losing his very mind. Finally, he let out a giant breath, and proceeded to tackle-hug Joy Bringer again.

“Thank you! Thank you so much!” He shouted, burying his face into her mane, even as the tears began to trickle down his cheek. He couldn’t help it: he was so happy!

“Choking!”

“S-sorry,” he stuttered, scrambling off. Joy Bringer got to her feet, and weakly smiled as she saw her brother’s face.

“You haven’t gotten a break at all, lately, huh?” She asked wisely, and Three Dee, in a mix of embarrassment and confirmation, began to rub his tears out of his coat.

“I’m not going to lie: I really hated working in the warehouse. And things had gotten worse since I’ve been grounded. I was almost beginning to wonder when they’d fire me too.” He admitted, and Joy Bringer stepped forward to gently hug him with her front hoof.

“Don’t worry, Three Dee. I’ll help make it all better,” she whispered, before Three Dee felt her shake her mane and step away, a small glare on her face. “But don’t think I’ve forgiven you quite yet!”

“Y-yes, ma’am!” He gulped, nervous again, before she dropped that act.

“If you want, I can help you look into the possibility of living in the servant apartments here too. It would save you some money, and it can’t possibly be worse than whatever accommodations you currently suffer,” Joy Bringer offered, and Three Dee weakly smiled.

“Why not? It doesn’t hurt to check up on it.” He said. He was uncertain if he wanted to leave his apartment. Sentimental value, for some reason or another. But he wasn’t leaving Canterlot yet, and that was good enough for him.

=

AN:
Okay. Wow. I’m exhausted from finishing this chapter. It is nearly four in the morning, and ponies have driven me to insomnia. Typical. Wouldn’t change it for the world, though.

I’m just going to put this out there: things have changed for me as a writer in fan fiction. When I first started writing, I maintained an approximately 1,000 word count for each chapter. When I returned and then left a little while ago, I worked towards 3,000 words. Now, in my latest return, this fan fiction has a personal 6,000 word count quota! Approximately! And with much more awareness as to what may drive a reader crazy, and/or keep them hanging on the line, this chapter came out in the range of 8,000 words. I desperately need contact lenses with x’s in them to depict just how dedicated I can be. That is, to the point of collapse. (XwX)

What that means is that my update schedule will be consistently erratic. I try not to leave you guys hanging, and in exchange, you read my work. Fan fiction is Harmony. Etc. You know what I mean.

Random Disclaimer: I do not own Wiz Khalifa.

Read and review, please! Constructive criticism please, and no flames! More to come.

Comments

[-Brutus]

Tracking this to see where this goes, however Ill give you a thumbs up. You deserve it

[N00813]

Also, it should be "teeters on the edge", in your summary.

[NH3]

502400 After all my spell checking for the chapters, how the hell did I miss that?! (Actually, I know why. "Titters" is also a word, just not the right one at all. BUT THAT'S NOT THE POINT! Thank you for catching that!)

[Count Doofus]

40 views on chapter 1, and only 12 on chapter 2? 5 thumbs up?

This story isn't receiving a fraction of a fraction of attention it should be getting. I'm loving every word of it. Granted, Vinyl is my favorite background pony which is what drove me to read this fic in the first place. But there's so much more than that, and I'm getting the impression the fandom is looking over this story, which is a DAMN crying shame. If anyone anywhere asks for a recommendation of a fic to read, I'm pointing them to this one.

I'm sorry I can't offer you any constructive criticism, but frankly, I couldn't if I tried.

[NH3]

503810 that's actually freaking awesome to hear. Vinyl Scratch is one of my favorite ponies too, she inspired me to start practicing DJing (which I freaking love now TwT) and I was especially eager to include her as one of Three Dee's best friends, as well as his idol.

And those are some of the nicest words I've ever received on a fan fiction. I'd love for it to get some more attention, but admittedly, the fandom has exploded, especially in the shipping industry (totally unintentional pun, but sticking with it), so there's just so many bronies and not enough space. I still love that people are reading this story with such enthusiasm though, and I hope you, as well as everyone else, stick around for more!

And if it makes you feel any better, this story also gets updated on fanfiction.net, and the stats for that have been stunning! I'm sure time will tell the fate of this story in the fandom, but I'm already very, very happy with the initial results. Thank you so much!