What Moonlight Made Her

by Storybelle

Chapter 8. Moon of Caution

Everything is falling apart.

And yet Equestria keeps moving along as if nothing were wrong at all.

The throne room is quiet but filled with ponies going about their work with purpose and professionalism. The castle’s event planner is busy comparing samples for new tablecloths for the Grand Galloping Gala. Maids dust and polish and shine, all under the watchful eye of Orchid Belle. Her dutiful guards stand by the throne, as stock still as statues. In short, Canterlot Castle goes about its daily business as it always has, as if no one knows the truth of what is happening.

And that is how it should be, no matter how much distress this causes Celestia.

Celestia sighs heavily and adds the parchment that she has just signed to the steadily growing pile to her right. It’s barely even settled before her assistant, Ivory Thorn, has whipped another one down in front of her. Wearily, Celestia picks up the quill again.

“Are you alright, Princess?” Ivory asks suddenly, concern in her cat-like eyes. Some may think that she’s more suited to a being a model than a secretary, with her dark curls and narrow green eyes, but Ivory Thorn has a quickness and professionalism to her that ponies don’t see when they first meet her. She notices everything and often has fixed problems before Celestia is even aware of one. Quite frankly, she’s the perfect assistant.

Right up until she notices too much.

“Oh, yes,” Celestia says absently. “Why do you ask?”

“I wouldn’t…” Ivory says, hesitantly. Her assistant looks unusually worried. If the past three years have taught Celestia anything about her assistant, it’s that Ivory only ever drops her blank face of professionalism in dire circumstances. “But that’s the third time that you’ve sighed in five minutes.”

Celestia pauses, quill aloft in a golden glow. She’s clearly not concealing her inner conflict all that well. How can she, when the argument with Moon Shadow is still playing in her mind? Her ward has never once looked at her like that before, with such anger in her eyes and a snarl of disdain on her lips.

She has argued with Moon Shadow before, of course. You can’t mentor a filly until adulthood and not have a few spats here and there. It was especially hard when Moon Shadow was a teenager and couldn’t understand why she was the only one unable to go to parties or dates or even to school like a normal pony. But there has never been such vitriol before.

And the worst part is that Celestia can’t even blame her. How can she, when she has lied and hidden things from Moon Shadow all her life? So much about Shadow and who she is and how she came to Canterlot. Moon Shadow will inevitably find out the truth. Who knows if she’ll forgive Celestia when she finds out?

“Princess? Princess!” Ivory Thorn is definitely frowning now. If she’s not careful, Celestia may find herself promptly referred to the medical wing. Some may think that as princess she doesn’t have to listen to anypony but that’s far from the truth. The ponies around her value her health and wellbeing. They will not hesitate to send her to a doctor, or a therapist or, Heavens above, put her on a diet.

“I’m sorry, Ivory Thorn,” Celestia says wearily. “I did it again, didn’t I?” Ivory Thorn looks as disapproving as she is professionally allowed to.

“Yes, ma’am. Should I send for someone? Nurse Needles perhaps?” Ivory says, carefully and Celestia tries to contain a shudder. Nurse Needles rules the medical ward with an iron hoof and is as prickly as her name suggests.

“No, thank you, Ivory Thorn,” Celestia says, turning back to the papers in front of her. “Maybe a cup of tea would help? I feel a bit drowsy this afternoon. I think I’d like another cup.”

“If you’re certain, Princess,” Ivory Thorn says. “I’ll order one be sent up from the kitchens right away. I noticed that you didn’t seem especially hungry at lunch earlier. Would you care for a snack?”

“Oh,” Celestia says. The tea was just a ruse but now that Ivory has mentioned it, she is a bit hungry. She was so upset over her argument with Moon Shadow that she barely ate. “That would be lovely, Ivory. Some fruit or biscuits will do.” Ivory inclines her head and steps away from the throne and towards the large double doors. Once her assistant is out of sight, Celestia exhales and puts down both quill and paper.

She needs to get this out of her system. She needs to try to make amends with Moon Shadow, maybe to explain herself before it all comes out anyway and their relationship is ruined forever.

She glances up at the closest window and judges the time to be mid-afternoon. Moon Shadow must be awake now. She can send for her and have dinner together, like they used to. She can have Moon Shadow’s favourites prepared and tell her…

Tell her what exactly?

Admittedly, this has not been the only time that she’s done this, Celestia begrudgingly admits to herself. She has never told Twilight what waits for her but that’s because she can’t. When Twilight goes to Ponyville she must make friends, truly and genuinely with her whole heart – and not just because Celestia told her to. Twilight will go into battle with five special ponies, who Celestia is sure will not let her face the danger alone.

But Moon Shadow, oh, Moon Shadow. By the nature of being the Sandmare, Moon Shadow must go alone.

“Excuse me, Top Bolt?” Celestia says and the guard in question immediately snaps to attention at her words.

“Yes, ma’am?” he asks. He wears the same gold armour of all her guards and he’s quite young, if Celestia remembers. Came here from Cloudsdale, just last year. Son of a former guard, eldest of three children and known for speed. He’ll be perfect.

“If I may, I need you to fetch somepony for me?” she asks. She reaches for a scrap piece of paper in her magic and hastily scrawled down Shadow and Tea Leaf’s address on it. It shouldn’t take him long to reach it. “I would like for you to go to this address and ask the young lady within to accompany me for dinner.”

The paper drifts over to the guard in her magic and he pulls it out of the air with a hoof. His eyebrows furrow when he sees the address.

“There is a young mare there who lives with her mother,” Celestia explains. “I need you to be speedy about it. I estimate that it will take her two hours of sulking and then half an hour for her to work up the nerve to actually come here. If you leave now, she should be in plenty of time for dinner.”

The guard looks more than a little bit startled at this statement but to his credit he hides it well. He merely looks at his fellow guard for permission but the stallion to Celestia’s left only nods. It is a direct request from the princess and she is not in immediate danger, so he is free to follow it.

“Certainly, Princess!” Top Bolt says, his eyes bright with the challenge. “I’ll be as fast as lightning and deliver your invitation to this mare immediately. What’s her name?”

“She is Lady Moon Shadow,” Celestia informs him, hurriedly gathering up her papers and quill again. Ivory Thorn must be returning shortly. Celestia will be in trouble if it looks like she’s slacked all this time. “Please, when you see her, express my sincere apologies and that I would like nothing more for her to accompany me to dinner. Oh, and don’t take it too harshly if she slams the door in your face.”

This causes the guard to look a little less enthused about his mission now, but he bows and turns to head for the throne room doors. Staff quarters are only a few streets over. He shouldn’t be gone long.

Not even five minutes after Top Bolt has exited, Ivory Thorn returns with a cup and plate levitating in a field of dark blue magic.

“Ivory, you didn’t have to bring it yourself,” Celestia says in surprise, retrieving the meal with her own magic. Ivory delicately shrugs.

“I went directly to the kitchens, it seemed simpler to bring it straight back myself,” Ivory says, taking her place to Celestia’s left, as always. “Did you make much progress on those documents?”

“Of course,” Celestia says, discreetly trying to hide the stack of papers behind her while she investigates what Ivory has brought her. The tea smells wonderful, but strong and sharp. Ginger, Celestia deduces, with lemon and maybe some honey. Her snack appears to be a fresh fruit salad and a few oat biscuits.

“This looks wonderful. Thank you. I’m sure I shall be revived after this,” Celestia says, lifting the cup to her lips. The tea is warm and soothing on her throat, the ginger invigorating her and the honey is smooth and comforting. Celestia easily swallows half the cup before lowering it.

“Wonderful. Who made it? After all, Tea Leaf is away on leave.” Celestia notices too late that Ivory Thorn has slid around the throne and is staring with disapproval at the pile of documents that is the exact same size as it was when she left.

“Café Au Lait did,” Ivory answers, after a beat. “She didn’t manage it as well as Tea Leaf but nonetheless, it seems to be satisfactory,”

“Indeed. Although, I wonder if there is a little too much ginger,” Celestia muses. “That might explain the honey to compensate for…”

Celestia is cut off when the door to the throne room suddenly opens, revealing a windswept Top Bolt. He’s back quicker than expected. Either Shadow agreed to dinner easily or there was door slamming involved.

But this thought is quickly dismissed when Top Bolt arrives at the base of the throne. He dips into a quick bow in front of the princess, still slightly breathless from his flight. Celestia feels a ribbon of worry curling around in her gut. The guard’s face does not imply that the visit went well.

“Top Bolt?” Celestia asks, worriedly. “What’s wrong? Did she shout at you?”

Top Bolt takes a few deep breaths before looking up at Celestia. “I’m sorry, Princess, but she’s gone.”

Ivory’s magic is fortunately quick enough to catch the cup of tea before it hits the ground or even spill a drop. Ivory really does deserve a raise, Celestia thinks muzzily. She’d never be able to rule Equestria without Ivory taking care of little details like unhappy nobles, lost vases and falling cups.

“Gone?” Ivory asks, quickly setting the cup down. “Who’s gone?” The throne room has gone still as the other guards, staff and Orchid Belle have all gone quiet to listen. One of the maids has paused with her duster frozen in mid-air, so captivated is she by the dramatic appearance of Top Bolt. The palace rarely has such drama.

“I’m sorry but while I was knocking on the door, her neighbour came out,” Top Bolt explains. He looks thoroughly unhappy to have to be giving the princess bad news. His ears are twitching, although he tries to contain it. “It was Blooming Dahlia, one of the gardeners, and she said that Moon Shadow had left an hour before for the train station. She’d asked Dahlia to take care of her cat and then left with full saddlebags, with no word of her return.”

Celestia is frozen. This is much worse than she feared. There are only two places that Shadow could have gone. One is Ponyville to see her mother and, as much as Celestia hopes this is true, it is extremely unlikely. Celestia knows Moon Shadow and how she thinks and she would not give up that easily. Certainly not to slink off to Ponyville, where there are no answers.

But Manehattan on the other hoof… Well, Moon Shadow could find out everything there.

Celestia struggles to focus her eyes and notices that the entire room is watching her. Taking a deep breath, she issues the only command she can think of.

“Ivory Thorn,” she says and her loyal assistant immediately stand to attention. “Please take a letter. I need you to send a message to Ponyville.”

---

Moon Shadow splurges and gets a taxi. Her legs feel as stiff as they did in the dream. All those bucking stairs, Moon Shadow thinks grumpily, as she pays the driver and trudges up towards the apartment block.

She’s on her grandparents’ street and she really, really doesn’t fit in. She’s aware that there’s a middle aged couple on the other side of the street, suspiciously eyeing her. Around here all the saddlebags are worth several thousand bits and if it’s not couture, then it doesn’t count. Even the gleaming building in front of her looks more pristine and polished than she ever has. She swears that the little topiary bushes out front don’t have even a leaf out of place.

Shadow takes a deep breath and forces herself to walk in.

The doorpony looks up as the door shuts behind Shadow, and she’s pretty certain that he wrinkles his muzzle at her. Her sudden exit from the bath this morning has made her mane and tail frizzy and sleeping on the train has left her dusty. Combine that with the puddle she stepped in when she got out of the taxi, she looks a fright.

“Madam, the homeless shelter is a few streets over. This is a high class building. Move along or I’ll have to call the police.” The guard intones, barely looking at her. Shadow bristles at his cool remark. This is why she hates Manehattan’s high society. Canterlot nobles are just as rude, but they rarely say so to your face.

She strolls right up to the desk and glares right at him, while she levitates her ID out of her bag.

“If you could please let Fine Dining and Lace Bonnet on the fifth floor know that their granddaughter, Lady Moon Shadow is here, I’d appreciate it,” she explains, in the snottiest tone she can muster. Living so close to nobles for so long means that she has a well-trained accent. “I’ve had an exhausting train journey and I would very much like a bath.”

The doorpony’s blue eyes widen at the sight of her official castle ID.

“Of course, ma’am! Right away!” he exclaims, at once. He turns around to address the intercom on the wall. Shadow puts away her ID, feeling slightly smug. Being the Sandmare does have its perks sometimes.

“Yes, sir, she’s right here. Yes, that description matches her exactly. I’m afraid she didn’t say her reason for being here,” the doorpony replies into the mouthpiece. He casts a quick glance towards Moon Shadow. “She looks…” He trails off again, at Moon Shadow’s quick glare.

“If you say I look homeless again, I will lodge a complaint!” she threatens him.

Well, no, she won’t. Who has the time for that? But it always works.

The orderly sizes up her threat and then turns quickly back to the intercom. “I’ll send her up, shall I?” says the doorpony hurriedly into the mouthpiece. “Yes, very good, sir.”

He hangs up and turns back to Moon Shadow, plastering a smile onto his face. It is clear that he still wants her to leave, but Shadow couldn’t care less. She simply waits for further instruction.

“My lady, if you could please direct yourself to the elevators. Your grandparents are waiting for you upstairs,” he says, politely gesturing with a foreleg. By rights, he should escort her up, but she can’t blame him for not wanting to be stuck in an enclosed space with her.

“Thank you,” Shadow says, drawing herself up with a final, tired smile. “Have a good night.”

“You too, my lady,” the stallion answers, weakly.

Moon Shadow tries her best not to skip straight into the elevator. She takes her victories where she can get them.

Moon Shadow tenses before the door opens onto her grandparents’ apartment, but it’s not nearly enough to prepare herself for her grandmother’s bald scrutiny.

“Good heavens!” Lace Bonnet exclaims, as soon as Moon Shadow steps slowly out of the elevator and into her grandmother’s clearly concerned gaze. “How can your mother let you out of the castle in this state?” she continues, closing the door behind her granddaughter. Moon Shadow stands carefully on the doormat, ever more aware of setting her filthy, bedraggled self on her grandparents’ immaculate white carpet.

Of course, her grandmother is as flawless as ever. Even this late in the evening, Lace Bonnet has her hair piled up in perfect golden curls and a set of pearls gleams around her neck. Not even her eye makeup has smudged. Moon Shadow can’t manage wearing mascara without it running off in the first five minutes

“Stay there, dear.” Her grandmother warns, clearly having the same thoughts that Shadow has had about staining the carpet. Moon Shadow has no choice but to stay, uncomfortable stuck in one spot, as her grandmother continues to study her with undue discontent. “I’ll have Feather come to take you to your bath. And run your bath. And maybe burn your saddlebags.” Lace Bonnet adds, with a quick shake of her perfectly coiffed mane, before hurrying off to find the maid.

Shadow continues to stand awkwardly on the mat, unwilling to move an inch. Everything in her grandparents’ apartment is colored in white and beige. Much of it is made of glass and any one item is probably worth more than Shadow’s entire salary. She has the feeling she would break everything simply by breathing near it.

“Good evening, Miss Shadow!” chirps Feather Duster, trotting through to the family room. “Now, shall we take you through to the bathroom?”

“Of course you may, but I don’t know how I’m going to get…woah!” Shadow muffles a mild shriek, as a yellow glow of magic carefully lifts her into the air. Shadow considers protesting, but finally slumps as she involuntarily follows Feather Duster like a balloon. It unfortunately reminds her of when she was a filly and the head housekeeper, Pristine Glass, used to carry her around the same way.

Shadow is finally put down on all four hooves on an unsurprisingly white towel in the bathroom. Feather begins to run the taps in the giant white Jacuzzi tub, filling the bathroom with steam and the delicious, sweet smell of bubble bath. Shadow breathes it in, appreciatively. Her grandmother has been buying the marshmallow bath cream since before she can remember.

“Let me take your bags,” politely prompts Feather Duster. Shadow reluctantly hands them over, well aware that the Sandmares Journal would be a very odd item for any pony to find should they decide to look in Shadow’s bags. Thankfully, all Feather does is hang them on a hook.

After a few moments of comfortable and companionable silence, Feather tests the temperature of the bath. With a quick nod of her head, she turns off the taps and smiles at Shadow. “It’s all ready, Miss,” she informs her, as she steps aside. Shadow makes a quick assessment of the situation. Without another thought, she walks across the floor and carefully climbs into the tub, intensely grateful for the soothing hot water on her sore limbs.

It could only have been eight hours or so since she was sitting in her own bathtub at home, but it somehow still seems like days ago. Moon Shadow lazily lifts a hoof out of the water, watching the drips slide down her coat. Gosh, how the mud does cling to her fetlocks.

“Would you like a drink, miss?” Feather asks her, politely. She’s the former housekeeper’s niece, if Shadow remembers correctly. She even has the same shade as Pristine Glass’ cream mane.

Shadow blinks, coming out of her haze. She’d almost forgotten the other mare was still in the room. “Oh. Some cold apple juice would be lovely, if you have it.”

Feather inclines her head, almost in a nod. “Of course, miss. I’ll have Rose Petal bring a glass immediately. In the meantime, however…” Shadow does not appreciate her tone. With growing horror, she lifts her head to see the diminutive brown mare advancing on her with a loofa, nail clippers and scissors held aloft in her magical grip.

“What are you doing?” shrieks Moon Shadow, dark eyes wide. She clings to the back edge of the tub, as far away from Feather as possible. This obviously isn’t a very good plan as she just slips back down the side again, towards the implements of doom.

“Miss Bonnet has requested you be appropriately cleaned up. That means the full works, Miss,” cheerfully smiles Feather Duster. Before Shadow can even think of a reply, let alone move, her tail is once again caught in a glow of magic and the loofa comes down on her.

When Rose Petal arrives a few minutes later, to deliver an ice cold glass of fresh apple juice, she knows better than to comment on Moon Shadow trying to crawl out of the tub, while Feather Duster scrubs at her hind hooves with a pumice stone.

It takes an hour before Moon Shadow is finally released from Feather Duster’s clutches, rubbed raw to the point of gleaming. Without another word, the sinister maid delivers a shivering Shadow into the family room, where her grandparents are seated on the couch. Shadow shoots one last glare at her captor, just before she is presented to her grandparents.

The maid clears her throat as they enter the grand room. “Lady Moon Shadow is ready,” Feather announces their presence. Lace Bonnet pulls herself off the couch to inspect her granddaughter.

“Well, at least she’s cleaner,” she decides, pacing around Moon Shadow to scrutinize every inch.

Cleaner? Moon Shadow thinks with indignation. She is pretty sure Feather got close to scrubbing off her cutie mark. Even Mrs. Glass was never that thorough. And Shadow made mud pies as a filly.

“And her mane is a vast improvement,” adds the older mare, with approval, as she continues to inspect Shadow’s purple mane and tail. Feather did a pretty good job on that, Shadow has to admit. Her tail is neatly trimmed to a more suitable length and curled at the ends. Her mane, on the other hand, is shorter and styled so it no longer hangs in her eyes.

“She looks like an actual member of society now. Don’t you think so, dear?” Lace Bonnet turns to ask her husband, who hasn’t yet moved from his seat.

“Much better,” says Fine Dining, not sounding the least bit interested in his granddaughter’s appearance – approved by his wife or not.

“Hello, grandfather,” greets Moon Shadow, finally able to see her grandfather since she stepped foot into this apartment.

“Hello, dear,” Fine Dining replies with a soft smile. Her grandfather hasn’t changed much since she was a filly. He’s a strong stallion, from years of building up his restaurant business and working long hours every day. The last few years, he’s started to bow out of the long hours that the food industry requires, instead taking on a more relaxed role in his old age.

“Now, have you eaten?” Lace Bonnet says, already interrupting their reunion.

Her granddaughter’s eyes widen. “No, I haven’t,” realizes Moon Shadow, suddenly remembering her hunger. The last thing she’d managed to eat was half an oatbar, and that was hours ago.

“I’ll have Crème Brule bring out a light supper,” announces Lace Bonnet, already making her way towards the kitchen. “You won’t believe our fantastic tomato and basil tarts!’

Fine Dining waits until his wife is out of earshot, before whispering in his granddaughter’s ear. “She acts like she makes it herself.” Moon Shadow giggles, as she carefully settles herself onto the loveseat. It squeaks a bit, as she sinks into its plush cushion. Oh, this is so much better than the train benches, she thinks blissfully.

“So, how’s Canterlot?” Fine Dining asks her, as he continues to peruse the newspaper.

“Fine, fine,” responds Moon Shadow, absentmindedly. “How’s the restaurant business?”

“Very well, thank you,” Fine Dining insists, as he sets down his paper. “Marvellous, if I do say so myself. I must take you out for dinner while you’re here. You always loved the dessert trolley when you were a filly!”

Moon Shadow hides a smile, as she simultaneously tries not to salivate at the images of deserts that begin to float through her mind. Mixed fruit tarts. Red velvet cake. Banoffee pie. All of it sounds perfectly wonderful, especially to a very hungry pony.

“That would be lovely, Grandfather,” she answers him quietly, trying to swallow her extra saliva.

A clatter and high-pitched voices cause both Shadow and her grandfather to lift their heads towards the kitchen. It sounds like yelling. Shadow turns a quizzical glance towards her grandfather but, after a moment, Fine Dining simply rolls his eyes.

“And she wonders why we go through so many chefs.” he mutters, disdainfully. “She won’t even let me cook, did you know that?” Moon Shadow wants to laugh at his scandalised expression.

“But you own three five-star restaurants…” she begins.

“Five now, dear,” he says, sounding pleased as he passes over the newspaper. Flicking her eyes over the page she sees a review for the Manehattan Times. Shadow skims over the review but doesn’t notice anything out of the ordinary. Five stars, excellent service, the usual city review. It sounds like the rest of her grandpony’s restaurants. Fine Dining will settle for nothing less than the very best. It’s a trait that he passed on to Tea Leaf.

She turns a smile on her grandfather. “Did you get Las Pegasus?” she prompts him, knowing he will want to speak about it. She doesn’t talk much to her grandparents; her schedule doesn’t allow it and Tea Leaf avoids visits to Manehattan unless absolutely necessary.

“And Mareseilles,” he proudly informs her. “We’re global now, dear! Next Cloudsdale and Saudi Arabian! Heck, give it a few years and Appleloosa will be a big enough town.” Shadow wrinkles her nose but doesn’t comment. She’s not so sure Grandfather’s classy, expensive restaurants will ever fit in Appleloosa.

Lace Bonnet bursts back through the door, looking harassed. “That mare is intolerable,” she grumbles.

“That’s because you keep yelling at her, dear,” Fine Dining tells her, bluntly. Lace Bonnet bristles at his comment.

“All I did was ask her for a few small appetisers, is that so hard?” she says answers, in a high snobby tone. Moon Shadow easily recalls how much she had hated that tone when she was younger. It stings all too much of rude Canterlot ponies and nasty little fillies at magic school.

“It’s quite late in the evening, dear,” Fine Dining reasonably points out. “I’m sure she has to go home. Let me whip something up instead-”

Lace Bonnet is nearly about to breathe fire in response, when Moon Shadow chooses to interrupt and hopefully save the peace.

“We should. I can help! I’m sure Grandfather can teach me a few dishes suitable for Canterlot in the process.” Shadow turns to address Fine Dining. “Can’t you, Grandfather? After all, one of his restaurants is the highlight of the food district there.”

“Well, then. That’s settled.” says Fine Dining, as he folds up his newspaper. “We can let Crème Brule go home and I can put my skills to good use. I will teach my granddaughter what it means to own first class restaurants!” As he stands up and heads towards the kitchen, Lace Bonnet deflates a touch.

“Well, I suppose,” she finally manages, reluctantly. “But don’t let her get dirty!”

Moon Shadow scowls as the pair trot into the kitchen. Fine Dining shakes his head, with amusement born of love.

“She means well, dear, but she’s from an old family,” he reminds her, leading Moon Shadow into a large, shining kitchen of polished metals and honeyed wood. It is a far cry from the cluttered and disorganised kitchen that Shadow and her mother share.

At the end of the room, there is a mare putting away some pans. She looks up when they enter and her mouth turns down.

“Is this she?” she asks Fine Dining. Moon Shadow’s temper immediately flares. Isn’t she standing right in front of that mare?

“This is my granddaughter, Moon Shadow” Fine Dining tells her, his voice warm with approval. He places a hoof on Shadow’s shoulder. “Moon Shadow, this is Crème Brule.”

“Nice to meet you,” says Shadow as kindly as she can, as she tries to ignore the fact that the mare is studying her up and down.

“You are not what I expected,” says Crème Brule flatly informs her.

“You’re not what I expected,” Shadow returns and it’s true. She expected Crème Brule to be a classy mare, with creamy colouring and a delicate voice. In actuality, she has brassy red hair piled on top of her head, lurid eye shadow and a rather rounded rump. It is quite round, actually, and very curved. The kind of rump you see in Playcolt Magazine. Curvier than Moon Shadow’s, for that matter.

Crème gives her a sharp look and then trains her eye back on her employer. “She’s not snooty,” she continues, sounding mildly mystified. She also continues to speak as if Shadow has never even entered the room. “I thought you said she was from Canterlot.”

“She is. I mean, I am!” interrupts Moon Shadow, incensed. “I am right here!” Crème finally eyeballs her, a touch sceptically.

“You’re meant to be a lady?” she asks. Moon Shadow bristles but Fine Dining interrupts, clearly sensing an impending argument.

“Now, Crème, you can go home for the day. Moon Shadow and I will take care of the appetisers,” Fine Dining tells the cook, not appearing at all worried about getting between the two mares. Moon Shadow’s quite grateful for it, though – she’s pretty sure Crème Brule would flatten her in an instant.

Crème studies them for a moment and then shrugs. “All right. But remind your old lady that I can’t be expected to stay after hours, unless she asks me in advance.”

“I will make sure to do so,” replies Fine Dining calmly. Crème pulls off her apron and hangs it on a hook. Her cutie mark is a flaming Crème Brule. Moon Shadow holds her tongue, but in her mind she realizes how well-matched the cook is to her flaming cutie mark. Well, that explains that charming personality. Less of the fancy dessert, more of the ‘Watch out, it’s on fire.’

Crème pulls on her saddlebags and swishes out of the door. Her long, fiery tail wraps around her hind legs as she goes. Fine Dining shakes his head, already pulling a large pan out of one of the cupboards.

“Not quite sure how she got past the interview stage, to be honest.” he comments, as he sets the pan on the granite island. He continues to trot over to the fridge and Moon Shadow follows in his footsteps.

“Because of her sparkling personality?” asks Moon Shadow, with a hidden smirk.

“Well, now your grandmother chose to hire her,” he gruffly replies. “And, as you can tell there’s no love lost between them.” He drops the subject there, and Shadow chooses not to pursue it any further. Whom her grandmother chooses to hire is none of her business, anyhow.

Her grandfather turns a winning grin on her, his blue eyes alight with mischief. “Now, I do hope you know how to dice, young lady…”

---

Moon Shadow collapses back onto her seat with a happy groan. “That was some of the best food I’ve ever eaten,” she exclaims, eyeing the plate in front of her. If there’s going to be dessert she should stop now but if not, surely she can fit in one or more of those delectable little toast points?

Fine Dining beams, obviously pleased. “I’m glad you think so, dear. And you helped, don’t forget. I’m sure that you can quite easily make these at home. Your mother is quite an accomplished chef herself so she should be able to help you.

Hmm. It’s true that Tea Leaf is a great cook but she usually prefers to use those skills for hay burgers and vegetable stews and moist slabs of cake. Nothing quite like the fancy meals her grandfather specialises in.

“Oh, I forget that she used to work in your restaurant,” Moon Shadow says, deciding that one more little treat won’t hurt. But which one to choose? The tarts, the toast points or the zucchini parcels?

“Before she threw all that expensive culinary training away and skipped off to Canterlot, that is,” Lace Bonnet sniffs. She gestures for the maid to bring another bottle of wine and then wrinkles her nose when she sees the label.

“Really,” Lace Bonnet mutters. “This is very undignified. Dinner at my coffee table, cooked by my husband and granddaughter, served with the very questionable wine we got from Glitter Gloss and her husband. Honestly, who do they think they’re kidding? This is ten bits from the market at best! You just can’t expect these entertainer ponies to have class…” Lace Bonnet grumbles.

“Serve the wine, dear,” Fine Dining says flatly, as he passes out plates. “This is just a family occasion, I’m sure we can survive for one night.”

Lace Bonnet sniffs and looks suspiciously at the wine as if it might bite her.

“You know entertainer ponies?” Moon Shadow asks curiously, finally deciding on a zucchini parcel. “What do they do?”

“Lovely couple,” Fine Dining says, before Lace can get a word in edgeways. “Glitter is an actress on Bridleway and her husband is a music producer. They have some wonderful stories. When we were at dinner last week they told us a delightfully scandalous tale regarding an opera singer, a bellboy and a chocolate cake!”

“That’s hardly a suitable story for the dinner table!” Lace Bonnet scolds him, as she fills up her glass. Fine Dining chuckles as he offers his own for a refill.

“Well, I didn’t tell the story, did I? Just the key details,” he says, with an impish grin. “What Moon Shadow makes of it, is up to her.”

Moon Shadow can probably guess. But chocolate cake? Surely pudding would be easier…

Shadow is jolted out of her thoughts by Lace Bonnet offering her the wine. She declines – after all, she’ll need to go to work soon. She can’t be too intoxicated. It was hard enough having just the one glass, when she was so worried about spilling even a drop onto all this pristine white.

“Now, how about some pudding?” Fine Dining says. “I believe we have a marvellous cheese board or just the best amaretto trifle this side of Equestria…” He trails off and then laughs at his granddaughter’s expression. “Trifle it is, then!”

“You spoil her so!” Lace Bonnet says, but there’s no real anger in her voice. Moon Shadow is not theirs by blood but you’d never guess it, for how she’s been showered in treats, trips and presents since she was a foal.

The trifle is fetched and dished out into bowls. Moon Shadow has to restrain herself from planting her face muzzle-first into the dish, instead waiting while spoons are handed out.

“Did Crème Brulee make this?” she asks. There are simply mounds of fluffy whipped cream, on top of soft sponge and amaretto biscuits. The whole thing smells amazing and even though Shadow just ate, she knows she’ll have no problem licking out the bowl.

“She did,” Lace says. “That mare is a trial, but she makes spectacular desserts.”

Moon Shadow catches the look on her grandmother’s face and thinks she knows why Lace hired and subsequently keeps the feisty chef around.

It’s not too long before the table is silent, save for the clink of spoons and quiet chewing. The trifle is perfect with just the right amount of amaretto. Moon Shadow’s is gone all too soon and she scrapes around the sides of the bowl as best she can.

“That was amazing,” she sighs, pushing her bowl away, “You’ll have to roll me back to Canterlot.”

“Would you care for some coffee?” Lace Bonnet offers. “It’s not quite as good as your mother’s, but we have a nifty little machine now that can make a nice latte, quick as anything.”

“I think I may need one or I’ll fall asleep right here on this couch!” Shadow says, barely able to stifle a yawn. All this delicious food has made her sleepy and she doesn’t have long until sundown. Some strong caffeine should perk her up.

Lace departs to the kitchen to make three coffees, as Feather Duster has long been dismissed for the night. Moon Shadow rests her head on the back of the couch and tries hard to not doze off. Fine Dining returns to his newspaper and for a while, all that can be heard is the quiet rustling of newspaper pages.

It’s just as Lace Bonnet is returning with a tray of cups and saucers that Fine Dining makes a startled noise.

“What’s wrong, Grandfather?” Moon Shadow asks, jolted awake. He’s staring in shock at a small article near the back of the newspaper. Lace places the tray gently down on the coffee table and moves beside her husband to read the paper for herself.

“Oh my,” she breathes, raising a hoof to her mouth. Moon Shadow grinds her teeth and then slides over the couch so she can peer over her grandfather’s foreleg.

What she sees almost makes her meal come back up again.

“That’s awful. Who would do such a thing?” Lace asks, unaware of her granddaughter’s plight as Moon Shadow clutches the side of the couch and tries to breathe deeply. “Actually stealing… It’s so…so…”

“Indeed,” Fine Dining agrees solemnly. “No good can come from somepony stealing corpses. I think the last time anypony did that was that mad stallion from a few hundred years ago. What was his name? You know the one I mean, Lace, the one who thought he could bring ponies back to life…”

Lace Bonnet very visibly shudders and sets about pouring the coffee, a far more normal and familiar task.

“Goodness, I don’t know his name. I don’t want to know his name. Ghastly business. Maybe it’s no pony at all. That far out, near a tiny town with no decent civilisation to speak of, maybe it’s some beast…”

“A beast that carefully dug up six graves and removed all traces of the bodies?” Fine Dining asks, hitting the newspaper with a hoof for emphasis. “No, this must be the work of some sick individual. Someone very clever indeed to sneak in and steal corpses without a trace…”

“I vote that we cease saying ‘corpses’ for the remainder of the evening,” Lace says briskly. “Now, Shadow, would you like cream and sugar?”

Shadow has just about gotten a hold of her stomach again and is just about capable of saying yes to both. Lace pours in some cream and drops a few sugar cubes into a cup before passing it over. Shadow breathes in the comforting smell of coffee, letting it take her back to when she was just starting to patrol the dreamland every night.

It was so hard to sleep during the day back then and she’d be tired and grumpy when she got up. Tea Leaf would make her strong, sweet coffee and Shadow would slump over the breakfast table and drink it, while Tea Leaf made dinner.

“I’m just saying that this seems no ordinary crime,” Fine Dining says, crisply folding the newspaper back up.

“Then why would they hide it at the back?” Shadow asks, taking a sip. Lace Bonnet is right, it’s not as good as Tea Leaf’s but it’s still tasty nonetheless. “Why is it not a big headline?”

“They probably can’t,” Dining explains. “It would frighten everypony. We’re herd animals, dear. If a few get spooked then you’ve suddenly got mass panic on your hooves.”

This is, unfortunately, true. Even for the tiniest things, ponies will follow everypony else. This is especially true in Canterlot – ponies hate to stand out by not following the latest trend. Shadow has seen some absolutely ridiculous fads sweep the city because of this exact problem.

“I think that we should finish our coffee and head to bed,” Lace Bonnet says, nose wrinkling with distaste. “Shadow, dear, will you be alright? I know your schedule is quite different to ours.”

“Yes, how do you do that every night?” Fine Dining asks, curiously.

“I suppose I’m more than used to it by now,” Shadow says. “I hope I won’t bother you if I keep the same schedule while I’m here?””

“Not at all,” Fine Dining assures her. “You know where the library is should you need something to pass the time.”

“Speaking of that, I’m going to bed,” Lace Bonnet says, placing her cup down on the table. “Leave the cups, Shadow, dear. I’ll have the maid clear them up in the morning.”

“Goodnight, Grandmother,” Shadow says, accepting the cheek kiss offered to her by Lace Bonnet. “Goodnight, Grandfather.”

“Goodnight,” Fine Dining says, wrapping a foreleg around Moon Shadow to squeeze her tightly. “It’s lovely to see you. Sleep well.”

“Yes, you too. I’ll just stay up a bit and read,” Shadow says. “I’ll see you both tomorrow.”

Her grandparents head down the hall to their bedroom and once they’re out of sight Moon Shadow slumps down with a sigh. She wants to curl up on this plush sofa and fall asleep right here. She has basically been awake all day and every bone in her body feels exhausted. But now night has fallen and she has work to do.

She levitates the mugs and saucers and takes them through to the kitchen to wash them up. The apartment is quiet but she can hear the bustle of the city outside the windows, even at this hour. The ponies that live here are more likely to be returning home late from the opera than making noise at a club. But even so, Shadow can hear music from a few streets over, and the squeaky wheels of a cart as it trundles down the road.

When she places the last dry cup back in the cupboard, she pauses in the dark kitchen to stare out of the window at the Manehattan skyline. She can’t help but wonder if she’s done the right thing by coming here. She’s never defied Celestia before, especially not when they’re being threatened by a crazy, murderous ram.

Honestly, she’s never really had to do anything without Celestia before. The Princess might not be able to go into the dream realm with her, but Celestia has always been there to patch her up and guide her when needed.

Now she’s really, really alone.

Shadow heads back through to the living room, grabbing her saddlebags on the way. She wasn’t lying to her grandparents, she really does intend to read. But the subject matter is a little different from what they might have pictured.

The room Shadow stays in when she comes to visit is mostly unchanged from when she was a filly, frozen in time. The walls are a delicate lavender patterned wallpaper and the furniture is all the same matching cream colour. When she was a little filly and it was time for her to get a proper bed the magnificent four poster bed seemed large enough for ten of her. There’s only one teddy left sitting amongst the pillows, Shadow’s favourite as a child.

Shadow picks up the teddy in her magic and rubs it gently against her face. She can no longer remember his name, but his fur is as soft as ever.

She climbs up onto the bed and sets Teddy and her saddlebags beside her. She had packed them in a hurry, so chances are she’s forgotten her hairbrush or something else. The outline bulging against the side shows however that she has remembered the one crucial item that she needs.

Taking a deep breath (and clutching teddy to her side with her hooves) she magically lifts the flap of her saddlebags and slides out the Sandmare’s journal.

She’s not sure when she’d had the idea. Maybe it was on her furious exit from Canterlot Castle. Maybe it struck her as she browsed the library. Maybe it had clung to her subconscious all day and only just now was making itself come to light. But there was a Sandmare in her dreams and every Sandmare that ever existed wrote in this book.

Kimono held this book in her hooves, just as Shadow has done countless times before. Kimono found something to write in these pages, or maybe she struggled to find the words as Shadow has. Either way, this is the first time Shadow has held something tangible related to her fellow Sandmare.

She flicks it open to the first page and then flips through, slowly at first and then faster. Names blur together, the writing changing from a delicate calligraphy to a messier scrawl. Old Equestrian makes way to more modern language. A thousand years pass in the blink of an eye.

And then there she is.

The name Kimono is accompanied by a little paper lantern sketch. It’s not uncommon for Sandmares to draw their cutie marks with their entries, started all the way back with Galaxy, who used to mark her pages with little stars. It didn’t catch on for a while though, when Dancing Butterflies, a more artistic Sandmare, started adding a cluster of butterflies to her pages. Shadow wonders if little Galaxy ever expected hundreds of mares after her to look to her as a beacon, and use her journal a thousand years after her death. Really though, Galaxy was a little twelve year old filly, who was homesick and lonely and had nothing more than crayons and blank pages for comfort.

For a moment Shadow stares at the page, drinking it in, not even seeing Kimono’s words. This here is proof that Kimono existed. No trick, no illusion – a real mare wrote this and a real mare visited Shadow’s dreams. A real Sandmare.

Shadow’s heart skips a beat and she flops down on her stomach onto the bed, eager to devour Kimono’s story.

Half an hour later and she turns the page to nothing but white. Kimono’s words are cut off, her story’s end untold. Although it’s not a mystery what happened to her – Kimono’s sudden, tragic death meant that there was nopony to finish the tale. Only Sandmares have ever written in this journal. Not even Celestia has ever added anything.

Kimono only ever wrote a few pages. It started with her describing her home so far away and how much she misses her family. Like many Sandmares, Kimono was brought to Canterlot young. Shadow is lucky and her mother is always close by, so she can’t imagine how hard it must be to have to leave your family as a little filly. Moonstone was brought all the way from Roam. Dancing Butterflies was Prench. Not all the Sandmares were picked up from a town only a few hours away.

Kimono doesn’t really try to add advice to the journal. After all, after so many Sandmares, there’s not much more you can say. But she does express the same feelings that all the others had. Loneliness. Worry. Fear of what hides in the night. Shadow can both hear Kimono’s voice and an echo of her own feelings as she reads the words.

Kimono’s entry skips on a few years to describe her feelings when she receives the news that her parents are expecting a baby. Later on, the page is covered with joy when she discovers she has a new sister. Discovering her cutie mark, terrifying experiences, wonderful dreams: Kimono puts them all down, her feelings uninhibited and free.

And then there’s nothing. At about twenty years old, there is no more, the author brutally murdered. ‘Is Kimono’s family even still alive?’ Shadow thinks. Maybe they never found out what truly happened to their daughter. Or even worse, they’re like Tea Leaf and know exactly what Kimono went out to face each night.

Shadow closes the journal and slides it back into her saddlebags, so nopony will easily find it. The last thing she needs is her grandmother coming across this secret and ancient relic and demanding to know what it is.

Shadow gets up and stretches, stiff from reading. When she gets back from work in the early hours of the morning, she’ll have to go right to bed; otherwise she’ll never have enough of the day to do what she needs to do.

But for now she has to sneak into Feather Duster’s bedroom and pray that she doesn’t get caught.

Author's Note:

Wow. Um. So I've been gone a really long time. I started chapter 8 and between me and my beta we decided that the original chapter 8 was not up to par. It was just not the standard we expect for Moony. So it got broken down and rewritten and edited. It was hard. And long. And then I wrote in so much that I needed to split it. So chapter 9 will be coming very soon. This chapter was originally 27 pages. My poor beta had to put his foot down.

Anyways, glad to be back! I've worked on this chapter for so long I'm glad to see it done. As always, mega thanks to Julie for her detailed comments and fixing all my mistakes. Mega, mega thanks to Alex for his cheerleading, tireless re-reads and endless belief in Shadow's story. See you guys very soon for 9 and then 10 after!