Spectrum

by Sledge115

Act III ~ Chapter Twenty-Three ~ Castles In The Air

Spectrum

The Team

TheIdiot

DoctorFluffy

VoxAdam

Sledge115

RoyalPsycho

TB3

Kizuna Tallis

ProudToBe

Chapter Twenty-Three

Castles In The Air

* * * * *

“Without even thinking about it, I used to be able to fly. Now I’m trying to look inside myself and find out how I did it.”
— Kiki, from Kiki’s Delivery Service

~ New York City, USA ~ November 22nd, 2024 CE ~

To Miss Cherry:

Earth Date & Time: 22.11.24CE, 15:00 (EST)
Local Date & Time: 19.06.03EH, 15:00

Time Elapsed Since Arrival: 18 days

First transition of PHL to parallel universe, Codename: Sunny Equestria, effectuated this morning. Reported success rate: 100%.

Specialist Amethyst Star informs me that with the existing gateway on the other side – read: Crystal Mirror – future transitions hypothetically performable on a regular basis.

Crystal Mirror presents following advantages;
– no required fuel supply of crystals,
– ergo, high probability of permanent activation

Crystal Mirror presents following disadvantages;
– only 1 exemplar available
– proportions inefficient for transport of multiple units
– proportions inefficient for transport of sizeable units

Recommend diversion of resources to Sunny Equestria for construction of extra portal-stations. Per Specialist Amethyst Star, with local materials & infrastructure, minimum construction time for 1 portal-station est. 15 weeks.

Presentation by PHL held today at 1200-hours in Public Assembly, Hall of Unity, before international representatives of Equus. Reception; majoritarily positive. PHL reported to be psychologically adjusting to presence on Sunny Equestria. By agreement with local government, PHL shall be quartered in spare rooms at Watchtower building adjacent to Hall of Unity, until further notice.

I have been in remission for 18 days from injuries sustained prior to arrival;
– loss of motor function in 2 legs
– 2nd-degree burns on chest
Local medical services predict full recovery after 40 days total, accelerated by runic enhancement.

Regards,
~ Cpt. Alexander Reiner

P.S.
Junebug, I believe this is it. Our miracle chance.

Finishing her reading, Cheerilee set aside the report, examining the seven other faces at the circular conference table, to gauge the reactions of her fellow members in High Command. Two for the PHL’s paramilitary divisions, five for the PHL’s many departments. Captain Thunderwing, tied down by a renewed surge of activity in the Pacific, would have to be informed after the fact.

“So, that’s Amethyst’s final word?” asked Time Turner. “Their only known means of transfer is the Crystal Mirror?”

Cheerilee nodded. “Think that’ll be a problem, Doc?”

Turner huffed wearily. “No more than what Amethyst says…” he began. “Frankly, it’s a miracle they’ve got the Crystal Mirror at all. Great whickering stallions, goodness knows where it vanished to in our time... If the Tyrant got it…” He shook his head. “We were lucky we could trace back the residue of Discord’s manifestation.”

“Not so lucky,” Pina spoke up. “Remember? The Empire captured Discord, yes.”

“Always look on the bright side, don’t you, Miss Nectar?” commented Olivine Jewel.

Cheerilee had to respect the young mare’s attempted flippancy. Whereas the sitting members of High Command were all long-accustomed to Pina’s inscrutability, she didn’t think Lady Cadance’s substitute as Head of Psychological & Spiritual Well-Being had dealt with her before. But Olivine’s experience in Cadance’s old staff would have given her a crash course in sly words.

Pina gave Olivine a condescending smile. “Merely a realist...” she said. “Commandant Cherry? Why don’t you read what our new friends are promising? Then we’ll know whether to look on the… sunny side, yes.”

Naturally, Cheerilee had privately read the documents. As she brought out the next one, she hoped it didn’t show that perhaps Pina was right to expect an unenthused response. Clutching the parchment, a duplicate of the original from the other side, she began to read.

We, the Concordat of Equus,

Do hereby declare our recognition of mankind as the Thirteenth Family of Equus.

It is the judgement of this Concordat that the Thirteenth Family’s identity is its inalienable right as a fellow sapient species. As of this document’s signature, we the undersigned pledge ourselves to the formal acknowledgement and defense of said right of identity.

On this occasion, though strifes may separate the Families in times past and in times to come, we welcome the introduction of the Thirteenth Family as symbolic of the right of identity, and vow that should any seek to strip the right of identity from any one Family, we the Concordat stand together to uphold this right.

Signatories,
~ Princess Ember of the Dragonlands (reprs. Dragon Lord Torch & Spykoran the Chaoskämpfer)
~ Princess Mi Amore Cadenza & Prince Shining Armor of the Crystal Realm
~ King Sint Erklass of Adlaborn
~ Proxenos Philip Darkhoof of the Tauren Isles (reprs. The Ecclesia of 60)
~ Chief Thunderhooves of the Featherhorn Tribe
~ Prince Abraxas of the Ezebrantsi Tribe of Farasi
~ Dame Grizelda of the Redcloaks, Pretender to Griffonstone
~ Queen Novo of Mount Aris

There was more, but the rest was a series of clauses Cheerilee saw no interest in reading aloud. She lowered the parchment and awaited the reactions. As expected, they weren’t great.

“That’s it?” said Vinyl. “That’s our miracle? That was a strongly-worded letter of the UN!”

“Diplomatic fudging, is what it is,” Saffron Masala grimaced. Despite unassuming origins as an exotic Canterlot restorateur, Cheerilee conceded those origins allowed her the savviness for Moondancer to appoint as her deputy. “Even the Empire formally recognises humanity as the Thirteenth Family– they’ve built it into their whole ideology that that’s why humans deserve to be converted!”

“Yeah…” said Time Turner. “‘Inalienable right as a fellow sapient species’... Honestly. If they hadn’t put that in, where’d the difference be?”

“I mean, fuck.” Vinyl slammed the table. “Fuckity-fuck-fuck! Is this a joke? When I saw the footage of an alicorn Cadance speaking to the Security Council, I was hoping great armies, badass warriors coming down the heavens and kicking the Tyrant’s flank to Kingdom Come! What’ve we got? One measly portal that couldn’t ferry a squad, and a letter that says jack-shit!”

“To be fair,” said Saffron, “there was Princess Luna doing her thing, just last week."

"Yeah, but one alicorn's not enough," noted Spitfire. “We’ve seen how that worked out. Even Cadance and Luna together mightn’t be enough against the Tyrant.”

Gladmane pushed back his mane. “Commandant,” he addressed Cheerilee. “Is that really all? I… I noticed the hippogriffs’ names at the bottom of that list. I’ll admit, that’s pretty impressive, given I believe they were in hiding, at around this time. But I kinda was hoping for more equines.”

“Well, from the notes Lady Cadance and Dame Moondancer sent back as well,” said Cheerilee, “we may soon see Saddle Mareabia add its name to the Concordat. Apparently, the Saddle Mareabian ambassador currently is in negotiations for satisfactory terms.”

As she’d expected, this wasn’t met wholly with welcoming.

“Saddle Mareabia,” repeated Gladmane. “Hm. Who was their ambassador, again, in the… What was it, the Year 3 of the Era Harmoniae?”

“Lady Amira-bint-Ramaha of House al-Husan,” said Cheerilee. “Their present Vicereine to the Co-Harmony Sphere.”

Several faces around the table darkened.

“Sounds like political manoeuvering, if you ask me,” said Spitfire, with barely-hidden contempt. “Making sure not to bet on the wrong horse– Hah!”

But Olivine stared at the others in bemusement. “Just now, you were complaining we don’t have enough allies,” she said. “What I’m real curious about is, how the heck did they get Queen Novo to sign? The Storm King would be out and about, in their time, and Queen Novo was keen on the Co-Harmony Sphere. I’m gonna guess their Princess Celestia’s got a way with words. If she’s got the hippogriffs onboard, bet more’ll follow.”

“You sound darn confident there,” said Saffron. Olivine shrugged, flicking away her pink bangs. They shimmered delicately under the light.

“Call it crystalpony intuition, Saff. The Crystal Heart taught us much.”

“Well.” Pina smirked. “Hope your ‘intuition’ can help us out of a bind, Miss Jewel. This Concordat promises everything and tells us nothing. Do we know if they have some grand plan to save the human race? Can they stop the Solar Empire? Quite likely not. So... Take in refugees? Give humans a new home? How would that work? Do any of us know?”

As was her wont, Operative Pineapple Nectar had voiced what others on High Command, including the more brash members like Vinyl or Spitfire, didn’t like to think or mention aloud. Yet in their position as defenders of humanity, these were the very sort of questions they had to wrestle on a daily, nay, an hourly basis. Everyone at this table, at one point or another, had experienced up close the nightmare of evacuating a human city.

Cheerilee forced herself not to think back to Paris, and the Purple Mist. Huddling with a terrified group of human children who’d been on a school outing to a place of worship, Sacré-Coeur de Montmartre. When the mist had spread from the city’s heart, which they could see only too well from atop one of the higher surfaces in Paris, there’d been only one imperative – keep looking for higher ground. It was pure luck that Sacré-Coeur was among the highest places in the city. Even then, there’d been a mad scramble to reach the dome…

“That’s a good question,” said Saffron. “Ma’am, have we got a strategy?”

It was a noble sentiment of the parallel Equestria’s, offering to take in humans, and Princess Celestia would probably get it through Parliament. But it was pure fact they couldn’t possibly take in all three-billion-or-so surviving humans. Unlike the Solar Empire, they didn’t have the benefit of half a planet’s newly-liberated real estate, plus what infrastructure the Empire had been careful to thaumon-seed so the Barrier wouldn’t wipe it out. And even if practictality got ‘Sunny Equestria’ to specify they’d only receive around forty-thousand, the median human population required for sustainable genetic diversity, what then?

Wasn’t this the age-old painful question, choosing who lived and who died? The vast scope of the human population was further complicated by national divides, which remained an issue, even under UNAC. Wouldn’t countries like the United States or China argue their cultures and population count deserved priority over, say, Lesotho or Timor Leste?

They’d already witnessed a similar problem with the Russian Federation, of which the most habitable landmass had been consumed by the Barrier. Although the United States had, grudgingly, agreed to grant Russia the same favour as the European Union nations by creating Special Administrative Zones for them on North American territory, Cheerilee suspected it wasn’t entirely due to preexisting ethnological distribution that said Zones were placed in Delaware or Maine – both areas closest to the approaching Barrier. Not that you could feel sorry for Russia’s leaders, if half the rumours were true of President Putin and his oligarchical lackeys going behind UNAC to set up corporate fiefdoms throughout the African Continent… Galling though it was to admit, the People’s Republic of China had done as much, if not more than the Americans to slow them in their tracks.

“Who’d have thought, after all that hullabaloo on Earth about refugees a few years back,” Cheerilee said to no-one in particular, although the room, she was sure, had all ears on her, “now everyone knows what it’s like to be without a home, or fearing to lose it.”

“Ma’am?”

It struck Cheerilee that she hadn’t answered Saffron’s question.

“Sorry,” said Cheerilee. “I’m just running through our options. We’re still unsure how the Solar Empire will choose to move against these newcomers. After all, they’re fighting on two fronts… If you can call their cold war with the Storm King a front.”

“And the Barrier is a front, is it?” Spitfire said wearily. “More like a steamroller. But why are we even wondering, Commandant. The Solar Empire already struck a blow to the newcomers when they captured Discord. They’ll press their advantage. It isn’t like they’ll tolerate any opposition.”

“Hm… Not necessarily…” said Olivine.

Seeing all eyes turn to her, their youngest and newest member shrank back, blushing.

“What do you mean, Miss Jewel?” asked Pina.

“W-well,” Olivine started, “By taking Discord out the picture, the Solar Empire already removed the biggest possible threat to their power. A-and, how eager d’you think they’ll be to open up a new front… especially against, well, Equestria, of all places? It wouldn’t just be a logistical headache, but an existential one as well. Propaganda can only do so much. I… you know what I’m talking about.”

They slowly processed her words.

Finally, Gladmane spoke. “It’s possible the Solar Empire may largely ignore… Sunny Equestria, if our new allies restrict themselves to humanitarian aid. It won’t make much difference in the end, with the Barrier.”

“That’s possible…” Saffron allowed. “But isn’t taking in humans just going to give the Empire the excuse to paint a target on their backs? If only to prevent a human-led retaliatory strike, several generations from now?”

Cheerilee sighed. “I’m afraid such response from the Empire isn’t off the table,” she said. “If they think there’s any chance that, even in a scenario of their victory here on Earth, humanity might rebuild elsewhere… But it’s down to us for what facet of humanity Sunny Equestria will see…”

She glanced at the third document, a list of the dozen PHL staff chosen to make the transfer into the parallel Equestria. Two names caught her eye.

Björkman, A.
Research & Development
– Chemistry
– Linguistics
– Long-range Firearms

Pinfeather, F.
Field Operations
– Statistics
– Cartography
– Internal Politics

Those were the names of the sniper team stationed in Boston – callsign ‘Nordlys’, from what Cheerilee recalled – who’d taken the shot at Archmage Twilight. Amethyst Star had personally vouched for the woman.

“We’ve got limited time,” said Cheerilee. “Our envoys should get to work soon. Then we’ve got Captain Gibbous heading there, too, next batch. A special envoy from the thestrals, to their Princess of the Night.”

“Baby steps,” Olivine chimed in.

“Baby steps,” agreed Cheerilee. She looked around the table, beholding these merry few, those who stuck by the PHL. “And, ‘right of identity’, well… Looks like we got our green light, everyone. They’re fifteen years behind, they won’t be ready off the bat. Food, medicine remain our priority. Saffron? Ready Cultural Preservation for this. They’re gonna have a lot to send across.”

“Understood, ma’am,” said Saffron.

It was Vinyl Scratch who spoke next, and her words gave Cheerilee pause.

“... What about Lyra?” Vinyl said softly. “Their Lyra. Any word on her? Cos’ if, if Lyra’s still there then… then Tavi…”

Her voice trailed off. Spitfire reached to pat her shoulder.

“She’s alive there, Vinnie,” Spitfire offered, with a hopeful, if forced smile. “She’s alive… So’s Fleetfoot… So’s everyone.”

While Fleetfoot hadn’t been one of the defectors to join Spitfire’s splinter group, the former Wonderbolts Captain had never stopped thinking about her. Yet after last week’s battle, her body had been recovered in Charlestown, the Boston no-one’s-land...

Both Vinyl and Spitfire’s gazes fell upon Cheerilee. She took a deep breath.

“Cadance wrote that we again owe a lot to Lyra…” Cheerilee began to say. Only to feel her voice wobble with each new syllable. “She… she says the Lyra Heartstrings of that world is actively working to garner interest in the cause. Getting international support, for… an expedition, following in Howie Waggoner’s steps. Going looking for Dream Valley, and proof of human visitation to our world, millenia ago…”

Silence.

“Yeah,” said Spitfire, “that’s Lyra, alright…”

In private, Cheerilee too wondered about whom she might have found in Sunny Equestria. Not only the departed, but those who were living, yet lost. Such as her own sister – such as Berry Punch. But it was the departed who weighed on her most. Cheerilee found herself staring at the empty chair by her, engraved with the mark of the lyre, wondering if one day, that chair might be filled once more.

~ Boston, USA ~

Aegis was of the opinion that post-battle was always the least glamorous part of being PHL. You could star in the propaganda ads, with some quip like “I’m doing my part, are you?” But, as Aegis knew well, after a suitably large battle with sensitive news the public might not want, you ended up in bureaucratic limbo. The first thing that’d happened was them climbing a mountain of NDAs promising they wouldn’t reveal Discord, Princess Luna and Princess Cadance had been in Boston until “such time as the PHL deems relevant”.

Of course Viktor Kraber had asked, using his colourful language, just why the intel shouldn’t be made public. Official stance from high-up had merely been that it was sensitive information, and would be revealed in due time.

Once that was over, Yael Ze’ev had taken the whole squad to a room that served as a bar. Now, here Aegis was, sitting on a stool besides the rest of his squad.

Lorne stood behind the bar. Johnny C and Fiddlesticks had scrounged an assortment of drinks from who-knew-where, and Lorne was passing them out to anyone who asked. But, despite that, the mood was surprisingly sober.

“So,” Johnny C asked, “What happens now?”

“I…” Yael began replying to her cousin, then looked down, “I don’t know. I’m assuming this means we get some reinforcements, more farmland, and somewhere to send artefacts. I think… I think I feel hopeful.”

Aegis sipped his drink, pondering what he felt.

He’d been allowed visits to Amber and Rivet, of course, since his placement on Ze’ev Squad. Back in the day, when Verity Carter was herself still kept in custody by the PHL, confined to her personal quarters in Boston, the woman-turned-mare was a frequent sight amongst their rag-tag group of oddballs during R&R. So was Vinyl Scratch, for that matter. Aegis sometimes wondered if it was Vinyl’s idea of her apology to him, that to overcome her notorious disdain for the HLF, she’d sought to understand his friends by making them her own.

What had been the worst was the pain in her voice, when she’d broken the news, flanked by a group of armed PHL, his comrades only a moment ago. She hadn’t had the courage to look him in the eye, not really, keeping herself concealed behind those sunglasses of hers.

“Aegis, I hate what I’m doing, but I must tell you you're getting reassigned... to a penal squad. Now, I know what your first instinct’s gonna be. Please, at least do this for me. Don't even try to go rogue. I'm giving you a chance with this.”

Yes, that was the worst. That she’d meant it.

“Weird feeling, isn’t it?” Kraber asked, taking a long sip from a can of beer. “Nice change of pace.”

“I wonder if there’s another me there,” Aegis said. “I…”

‘What do I tell him? That Woven Sugar might lose her mind at any point? That she’s not trustworthy, even though you thought she walked on water? Is that true if she hasn’t done it yet? How would I feel seeing us in love again? Seeing me?’

“It’s a disturbing thought. Another… another me. It just… feels wrong. If it’s all similar, then why? Is it fated to go the same way?”

“I get what you mean,” Fiddlesticks said. “But… just think of all the things we’ll get to see again. I could go to an Apple Family Reunion where half the family isn’t at the other’s throat!”

“Of all the things the war gave you,” Johnny C said, “I still can’t believe racist uncles at Thanksgiving were one of them.”

Fiddlesticks shot him a withering look.

“There’s just one thing that bothers me,” said Heliotrope.

“What’s that?” Kraber asked, nursing a large pitcher of beer.

“The Solar Empire’s always taken it for granted they’ll win,” Heliotrope said. “What happens when they decide their flanks might be to the wall this time?”

The whole room went silent. It was, to say the least, a sobering thought.

“One thing’s for sure,” Aegis said, “The war just changed in a big way.”

Aegis thought of Amber and Rivet. His and Woven’s two precious foals, and for a brief time, maybe Kraber’s as well. Amber wanted to be a welder, like him. Rivet loved collecting knick-knacks. Both the filly and colt, seeming proof that gigantism must run in the family, so huge were they for their ages. They had barely known life in Equestria, Amber being eight and Rivet not yet five, when he’d had to flee half a decade ago, leaving their mother behind.

He might still not fully understand what it was like for Kraber, having lost Peter and Anka, in a way perhaps worse than death, as could befall humans alone in the Conversion War. But living this was harsh enough. All the more with him knowing that, just a little, it may be his fault. Fate, it seemed, had decided his kids’ custody belonged to Verity Carter, herself ex-HLF. Verity and her ex-PER girlfriend.

People clinked their glasses together. In the quiet that followed, impromptu, a song emerged from amongst the patrons. A song from the last century, celebrating the foundation of a nation for people long used to diaspora, people like Yael, Johnny or Kraber, now perhaps consigned to that fate evermore, like the rest of mankind.

~An autumn night descends on the Negev,

And gently, gently lights up the stars,

While the wind blows on the threshold,

Clouds go on their way.~

~Already a year, and we almost didn’t notice,

How the time has passed in our fields,

Already a year, and few of us remain,

So many are no longer among us.~

Yael, the one person here to be professional military prior to the War, took up the tune...

~But we’ll remember them all,

With their beauty,

Because friendship like this,

Will never permit our hearts to forget.~

~Love sanctified with blood,

Will once more bloom among us,

Friendship, we bear you with no words,

Grey, stubborn and silent.~

And Aegis bobbed his head along to said tune, whispering it in tandem with his friends…

~From the nights of terrible terror,

You remained clear and lighted,

Friendship, as all of your youths.~

~Again in your name we will smile and go forward,

Because friends that have fallen on their swords,

Left your life as a monument,

And we’ll remember them all…~

~ Prison of Erebus ~ Day 10 of the Convocation ~ Nineteenth Day of the Month of Rophon, Year 3 of the Era Harmoniae ~

No matter how many times she visited Erebus – which admittedly, wasn't as often as her age or position would suggest – Celestia felt surprised at how the dullest aesthetics could seem unsettling and unfathomable. Right now, she found herself in a small room, surrounded by weathered walls of uncut stone. Like a cave. The ceiling showed signs of being carved, though only because of a storm lamp within. Despite efforts to clean the stone, it was still grey and drab. At least the floor was tiled. Celestia and Lady Amira waited at a wooden table lacking decoration, except for a notepad, inkpot and quill.

From what Celestia had learnt on humans, it was risky to leave sharp writing implements within prisoners’ reach. But Erebus had never known an incident where a prisoner gouged out eyes or took hostages. Even the worst were not that desperate. Or psychotic.

Lady Amira sat upright, with poise that matched Canterlot’s most uptight elite, although Celestia privately acknowledged she carried herself with far more grace. Her expression could only be called controlled and tight. She felt uncomfortable here, and Celestia knew why. Amira had a chance to reduce her husband’s sentence, but didn’t wish to raise her hopes.

The sound of keys broke the tension that filled the room, whereupon the door leading to the prisoners’ cells swung open. An armoured thestral of the Night Guard walked in, followed by Qabil al-Husan.

“My love,” Qabil greeted his wife in Intisari, a smile on his face that was small and guarded. He turned to regard Celestia, a slight glimmer in his eyes “Your Royal Highness,” said he, courteously employing Equish, with the finest Upper Canterlot accent he could muster. “May Fortune and the Lady be with you this day.”

He bowed – and then rose up just as quickly, to press down his black-and-white cap before it could slip. As Qabil straightened himself, the Guard indicated him to take a seat. Once he had, the Guard turned and left, closing the door without locking it.

“It’s always a joy to see you again, Amira,” Qabil began, in Intisari once more. his smile softening. Celestia saw Amira’s mask break at the sides under his gaze. With his cocky air of confidence, the stallion continued. “I’ve such trouble putting in words how I miss you, miss our family. To see you so soon after your last visit… Verily,” His tone dropped as he looked her in the eyes, “it is good to see you.”

“And I’m happy as ever to see you, my love,” Amira said in response, demuring a little.

“Your Highness,” Qabil then added, reverting to Equish as he turned to look at Celestia. “Now, seeing you is a surprise. A pleasant one, but unexpected, nonetheless.”

The stallion cut a changed figure from when Celestia had met him two years ago. His coat was not quite so fine, his goatee not so trim. Still, even though he’d swapped elegant textiles for the black-and-white uniform, Qabil’s golden colouration shone in this grey environment.

Celestia gave him her customary smile. She knew he’d recognise it for what it was, as would Amira, but it was only polite.

“Master Qabil,” Celestia said, by way of greeting. Her words were spoken in Intisari. For the remainder of this conversation, they would remain so. “Thank you for your graciousness. It has been how long, two years? Nonetheless, though I understand many Moons may pass before I find welcome in your home again... I hope we’ll one day meet under nicer circumstances.” She glanced at Amira. “I regret this place falls short.”

“Indeed, it does,” Qabil intoned, looking glad at the tacit permission to use his native tongue. “But I trust it’s safe to assume that neither you, nor my love, are here for a courtesy call?”

“I’m sure you were meant to get a visit soon,” Celestia said, to a token nod from Amira. “Yet I fear that you’re correct. Someone in my position doesn’t often meet a stallion for his honeyed words.” She sighed. “A pity. You’re probably wondering, though. Why me, and not my sister.”

“I am,” agreed Qabil. “This is nominally her realm. It is stationed by her guards, carries a sigil in her likeness…” With a brazenly questioning expression, he raised his head and puffed his chest. “So, if you’ll forgive my boldness, why are you here?”

On her way to Erebus, and even within, travelling by cart with Amira, Celestia had run through how she’d answer this.

It still felt no easier.

“The reasons are inordinately complicated,” Celestia said, reflexively stroking her satchel as she placed it on the table. “A jigsaw-puzzle I doubt the three of us could solve if we spent years locked in this room.” With these words, she gave Amira a knowing look. “Once we’ve spoken, I’ll grant you and Her Ladyship all the time to cover the rest.”

Qabil blinked, eyes changing from suspicious to interested. “And what is this matter?”

From her satchel, Celestia pulled out the sketch Headmaster Nexus had given her. She only briefly paused to admire its calligraphy, which proved Miss Rarity’s eye for beauty, before sliding it across the wooden surface to Amira.

“Amira?” she asked.

Silently, the ambassador turned the sketch, so her husband could read it right-side up. “These were found inscribed, my love,” Amira said softly, “etched directly into the skin of a hitherto-unknown being.”

“This is why a Convocation was called,” Celestia explained. “The Thirteenth Family has resurfaced on Equus. And we know them now to be human beings.”

Qabil raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

“Yet so much remains a riddle, wrapped inside an enigma,” Amira finished for Celestia. “The human creature was discovered to bear runes, the very runes on this paper. Which, following research by the Headmaster of Celestia’s School… and my insight, we believe trace back to your father’s lineage, Qabil.” She met his eyes. “Would this be true?”

“I cannot read them,” added Celestia. “This, as you can imagine, is a rare occurrence.”

Qabil stared down at the sketch. His eyes narrowed and his jaw set.

Celestia could tell he was debating. Not whether or not he knew, which he clearly did, but how much he was willing to tell. Glancing at Amira, Celestia sensed the other mare was thinking the exact same thing. There was a frown on her face, likely because her husband was wasting time mulling over this.

“Yes,” Qabil finally said. “These runes are a product of my lineage’s… research, I suppose you could say. How did this…” He stared up. “... Human, come to possess them?”

She’d known he’d ask, yet it felt strange to tell him.

“Ponies,” Celestia said simply. “There are ponies who discovered the Thirteenth Family, far before I or any of the world’s leaders knew of it. And for reasons of their own, an artisan of crystalline arts saw fit to tattoo these runes upon the human, using powdered crystal, so he’d be granted great power… Apparently, it worked.”

“Hardly anyone knows about my forefathers’ runes,” Qabil said. He lowered his voice, muttering. “Now they show up with a species long-believed mythical? That’s concerning.”

“That aside, my love,” Amira interjected, “We… that is, I need to know just what these runes are capable of.”

Qabil returned to gazing at the sketch intently. “The symbols here match those in tomes my father showed me of our lore. Although imperfect, they’ve been adequately replicated.” He looked up at Celestia. “They are symbols of endurance, designed to strengthen the body. My great-great-grandfather employed such runes during the… Farasi War of Independence. The others are for channeling magic, a useful ability to those tribes who possess no natural ability for spellcraft.”

He glanced at his horn, inert in Erebus, before taking a breath.

“This one, however...” He pointed out one image. “This has been modified.”

“And what is it?” Amira asked.

“It’s a counter-rune for transformation magic,” Qabil replied. “It was crafted to chain ghuls– my apologies, Changelings, into their given form and prevent them altering their shape. Normally, we would’ve had to forcibly brand the crystal into their hides.”

He stared Celestia in the eye, a genuine curiosity on his face. “I can translate most of these runes. I suppose the human is a warrior of some kind?”

“He is, yes,” Celestia answered.

“But why would he need a rune for countering transformation?” Qabil muttered. “Was it forced upon him? Or does he possess a dangerous ability?”

The image of her own face, split into a cold smile with flashing eyes, swam before Celestia.

“I’m… not entirely sure.” Which had some truth to it. “For one, it’s still unclear why he’s the only one we know of to bear these runes…”

“Only? Then there’s more?”

“Yes,” Celestia said. “But their time on Equus is yet to come. What you’ve said about countering transformation intrigues me, though… Knowing your own skillset.” She placed both forehooves together to mime a push-pull gesture. “This magic isn’t wholly alien to me. Can one use another rune as a counter, or do you remain stuck in a different shape forever?”

“I’ve yet to read all of the tomes my forefathers wrote,” Qabil admitted. “The runes they made to counter transformation had the express purpose of trapping a being in their present form. For instance, if a... Changeling were given one, when transformed, they’d remain as that being.”

Celestia could tell he wasn’t telling the whole truth, or perhaps hid the truth in his explanation. And here came, however she tried playing it, the delicate part.

“The Archives in my palace are expansive,” Celestia said slowly. “But Equestria’s assorted knowledge of magic likely covers a mere tenth alone. Since the human and those who gave him these symbols don’t appear to fully understand what they’re dabbling in… For time’s sake, we may have to request access to your forefathers’ library, sir.”

Qabil’s expression turned stern. “I’d be lying if I said I felt comfortable with the idea,” he told her, crossing his forehooves. “Those tomes are ancient, a personal property of my family, a legacy of our greatest achievements...”

“We understand that,” Celestia insisted. “We really do, but this is important–”

“How so?” Qabil interrupted, a bit curtly. “Is this human a threat? Are the runes killing him? Your Highness, I’m afraid I can’t open my library to idle curiosity. Especially without my supervision. The human won’t be going anywhere, will he? You could easily come back to me once my incarceration is over.”

Time. In Erebus especially, time was the great mountain-grinder.

“Sadly, that’s wrong. They may not be around by then– and nor may he.” Celestia delivered this news without fanfare. Only cold fact. “Time is a luxury they do not have, so, neither do I.” She let her eyes roam over him, then Amira. “Nor does your wife… nor does anyone who was called by the Concordia Maxima. I could ask Amira. She knows your books well. Yet though you are here, I wouldn’t consult your library without permission.”

“And I thank you for that,” Qabil said, his face still flat. “But I’m afraid I can’t just–”

“My love, please,” Amira cut in, her tone firm, but not stern. “You can’t imagine how important this will be. I myself have trouble comprehending the scope of what was revealed at the Convocation, and I was there to witness it. They– no, we all need this knowledge. We need the family library.”

Amira’s voice never rose beyond its steady, calm tone, yet her eyes implored her husband.

“But I asked Princess Celestia, and the Malikah, to seek your permission to enter the library. Because I know how important this collection is to you.”

“... Even though I put our family in danger for it?” Qabil’s face dropped and he looked away from his wife, ashamed.

“That alone makes clear how dear you hold the family’s tradition,” Amira said. ”And we are going to talk about this, someday... but not now.”

“Yes,” Celestia agreed. “I don’t like to interrupt, but we’ve got important matters to consider.” She turned to Qabil. “I ask you, sir, if you’ll let my ponies access your forefathers’ library. Its contents could be key to what decides the Thirteenth Family’s fate”

“Imagine what it could mean for us,” Amira added, lips forming a shrewd smile. “Your ancestors’ work saving the human tribe?”

He showed an ambivalent cringe. Whether due to Amira’s bait, or because the spirit of altruism had won through, he was conceding, that was apparent. Celestia smiled, giving him the radiant beam which inspired so many of her ponies.

“Equestria values the pursuit of knowledge, when wielded responsibly,” she said calmly. “You can be assured I’m prepared to repay your pursuits as warranted.”

Exactly like when Qabil’s pursuits had warranted this sentence, but of course Celestia avoided mentioning that part.

The stallion raised an eyebrow, his moment of self-reflection over. “And what kind of repayment can you offer me in here?”

Although it was a loaded question, it was not difficult to answer. “Well,” Celestia began, “a change in your current circumstances, for starters. You still have three years until your sentence is up. But I can arrange to have that sentence reduced.”

“Reduced?” Qabil said, eyeing her warily.

“Yes, reduced. Not overturned.”

“No more than another year,” Qabil shot back, tugging at his goatee. “And I want permanent transfer to the First Circle.”

“I’m afraid it isn’t that simple,” Celestia said smoothly. “True, for your family’s sake, I could shave it down to one more year. But, while you have risen swiftly from the Fourth Circle for good behaviour, it doesn’t yet merit the First Circle.”

Qabil slouched in his seat and, for the first time, groaned in frustration. Amira was frowning too, though Celestia couldn’t tell if it was at her husband or the news.

“With this new workload…” said Amira, “I don’t know when I’ll next be able to visit. Please don’t punish us both.”

“I understand, Your Ladyship,” Celestia nodded sympathetically. “This is going to be a busy, trying time for us all.”

As it was, time passed as Celestia discussed terms with the two horses.

Time and again they reworked the offer, with Amira dancing back and forth between supporting Qabil’s demands or dialling them back.

… Finally, after much haggling and negotiation, things came to a settlement.

“So we are agreed, Your Highness?” said Amira.

Celestia nodded, her long experience keeping her weariness from showing. “I’d say we are. Thank you. Well then, if that concludes negotiations, I shall bring out the necessary forms…”

She reached for the remaining contents of her satchel, but found herself stopped. Celestia blinked twice. To her great surprise, Amira had lain a forehoof upon her own – there was a familiarity to the gesture which Celestia hadn’t expected.

Even Qabil was staring at his wife, startled by her forwardness.

“Actually, Highness,” said Amira. “Pray forgive me, but there is one final matter.”

“Amira,” Qabil said, sounding spooked. “Surely you’re not thinking of requesting study time on the Tree of Harmony? It was difficult enough settling for what little we got on the Castle of the Two Sisters.”

Celestia muttered under her breath, “At least you got something to look forward to, sorcerer...”

But she let Amira keep her forehoof on hers. This was obviously something different. And Celestia suspected Amira was trying to give herself the strength for it.

“Alright, Your Ladyship,” she said, back at audible range. “What more is there to say? Is it a proposal, or a request?”

“Both, I think,” said Amira, removing her forehoof. “This isn’t a matter I could ever broach without my husband. I’ll spare you the preambles, but before reaching the heart of the matter, I must address one of the finer points. Princess Celestia, it is our understanding that, not long ago, Equestria’s old vassal-state of the Crystal Realm was reclaimed by Princess Cadance, of your royal sister’s lineage, newly come into her birthright as an alicorn. Both Their Highnesses were the first to open relations with the human tribe, were they not?”

Celestia nodded carefully. “That is correct,” she said. “I gather your unspoken question, Ambassador. Yes, my niece is entering new responsibilities in this changing world.”

“Of that, I’m convinced,” said Amira, pressing her forehooves together. “In the past, relations between my country and yours have lived off our exportation of crystals and spice. With the return of the Crystal Realm, a shift is inevitable.”

“Yes,” Celestia said slowly. “But our countries have been friends a long time, in spite of frictions.” She glanced at Qabil. “And I believe it’d be of mutual benefit not to fall into competition, but to combine the strengths of our crystal-based resources.”

Amira smiled. “Then we arrive at what I wished to say. In Saddle Mareabia, the noble families maintain an old and respectable tradition to strengthen their bonds, short of marriage. Your Highness, in my family’s name, I wish to extend that offer to Princess Cadance, on your behalf.”

It took Celestia a quick think for Amira’s meaning to become clear. “Your Ladyship,” she said. “You speak of fosterage?”

“Amira,” Qabil interrupted. “You know we can’t do that with royalty. The Malikah is supposed to offer foster to another nation’s leaders.”

“Which is why I already discussed the matter with Her Esteemed Majesty,” Amira replied. “She has agreed that one of our children would be naturally… suited to the magical nature of Equestria, or its satellites.”

“I wouldn’t refer to the Crystal Realm as a satellite...” Celestia muttered.

“I’ve made the arrangements,” Amira continued. “You have to trust me, Qabil. This’ll be good for the child, our family, and our nation.”

Qabil leaned back, a frown on his face. “And I can trust you to take care with their provisions?”

“I’ve taken the liberty of drawing up extensive lists for their care, both for our child and their foster-carers,” Amira replied. “Don’t worry, they will be fine… Won’t they, Your Highness?”

“Oh, certainly they would,” Celestia said reassuringly. “My niece is an excellent carer, and has experience with children. I’m sure your child would do fine… if Princess Cadance accepts. Still, I have a feeling she would.”

“But you don’t know who to send,” Qabil protested.

“This will work,” Amira said gently. “After how much we gained today, how much more do you think you’ll be able to achieve, through such a close relationship with the Amore dynasty? Whichever child we send will thrive. They are your children, after all.”

Qabil sighed, staring at the table. “Very well... You have my consent.”

“It will do, in the absence of any formal documents, my beloved bookworm.”

Celestia felt moved to speak. “Sir,” she said kindly. “Believe me when I say your wife’s offer came as a surprise to me as well. Yet what she offers has much to back it up. And you will find no better carer than my niece.”

Sighing, Qabil glanced up. “Alright. Then… let us fill what documents we have.”

This took less time than one would have thought. Once they were done, Celestia rolled up the papers, placed her quill back into her satchel, and stood up, nodding to both horses that they could do the same.

“I thank you for your aid, Master Qabil,” she said, inclining her head. “If all turns out for the best, I believe you’ll find our world a yet more fascinating place than you left it.”

“That’s beautiful to contemplate, Highness,” said Qabil, bowing very subtly. “But, if I may… I’d now like the time for a private talk with my wife.”

“Of course,” Celestia said, smiling knowingly. “And I know a better place for it. I’ll have the Guards lead you to the Sunroom shortly.”

“Many thanks, Your Highness,” Amira intoned with a deep bow.

“Indeed, many thanks,” Qabil said in turn, though he still frowned as he bowed a little deeper.

“Fortune and the Lady be with you,” both their voices echoed after Celestia, as she turned to head back to the visitor’s reception area.

But she threw a discrete glance behind her, to see Qabil and Amira were being led by a Guard to the door on the right. As the Guard opened it, Amira looked around briskly, then leaned into her husband, who rested his head on top of hers. Celestia saw Qabil give his wife’s ear a cheeky nip, before they had to pull apart when the Guard turned back.

Celestia smirked as she headed away. She supposed, after such good work today, those two had earned a little playtime.

~ The Hall of Unity ~

Princess Cadance waited patiently behind Celestia’s desk. She had an appointment coming soon, in which the Headmaster of Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns was to introduce her to a former student. A student of whom Luna, shortly after their return from Earth, had stressed the importance of keeping an eye on. How grand of convenience to dictate, as they’d found out upon closer investigation, that the stallion in question also be one of the first ponies who’d moved to the Crystal Realm since its return, a scholar of magic.

Presently, the plan was to offer him a job. The starting idea was that there’d be a place available for Master Sunburst by Twilight’s side, if the al-Husan family agreed to open up their library. But the news she’d just received from Celestia had planted the seed of a novel idea. Although little Spike’s absence limited the capacity for instant communication with Celestia, they hadn’t needed to dream-converse, thank goodness. The telegram that came in a few hours ago from an undisclosed location, a gateway to Erebus, had said matters were advancing smoothly.

A telegram which Alexander Reinder currently held in his hand, staring at it like he didn’t believe it was real. While she waited, the human and she were taking a moment to share in what the future seemed to hold.

“I know this must sound strange,” said Alex, laying the message on the desk, “but that’s one of the weirdest things I’ve seen in my time here. To me and my people, telegrams are way outdated. You’ve got magic, yet you still use telegrams.”

“Well, there are spells,” said Cadance. “But in this regard, telegrams are often the safest, most reliable means of communication.”

“Fair enough.” Alex smiled weakly. “Guess we won’t be getting into the debate of magic versus technology today. Pity, I’d have liked to bring it up to Captain Armor. Shame he’s returning to the Crystal Realm.”

A small, yet noticeable rapport had developed between her husband and Alex. Even with Celestia’s reassurance he wouldn’t be leading all Equestria’s military as it expanded, Shiney had needed encouragement from a fellow-soldier far more sadly familiar with constant warfare.

“I’ll have to join him soon,” said Cadance, “Matters there await us both. Just like many other leaders at the Convocation must eventually return to their homelands. And I hope to begin the… Spike’s healing before too long…”

Alex looked at her regretfully. “I’m afraid,” he sighed, “once Nurse Cross says I can get my ass off this wheelchair, I’ll have to leave too. Report back for duty… To Hell.”

“What about Lyra’s Expedition?” said Cadance. “I’ll be here for its departure, at least. Don’t you want to see her off?”

“I do,” Alex said, rubbing the wheelchair’s handles. “I’ll try and stay until then. But nor can I put this off forever. The Barrier will reach Boston in weeks… and even if it’s futile, I can’t abandon my post.”

Cadance placed a forehoof upon his hand, thinking of Shining Armor. He accepted it quietly.

“There is hope,” Cadance told him in whisper. “You came here, and we answered. Others surely will answer too. And if we fail…” She bowed her head. “I learned there are plans to keep humanity’s memory alive, from even before we learned of you.”

“The Harriet Thomas Foundation, you mean,” Alex said, in an equal whisper. “I’d heard about the Carter girl, but… I thought she was an urban legend, of the sort that crop up around Viktor Kraber’s crew a lot. That, or the type of rumour the HLF continue to spread about the PHL. A Newfoal in our ranks… They’ve got plenty of stories like this, to do with Newfoals.”

“So, you have been informed? I was told you’d be.”

“Amethyst Star,” Alex replied. “Said the PHL higher-ups were giving me special clearance, what with me finding this place and all.” He shook his head. “Still have trouble believing Verity Carter’s the one who re-established the Harriet Thomas Foundation. Harder to believe than her really being turned into a pony, without losing her mind. You sure she was herself?”

“I wouldn’t know how to answer that,” Cadance said evenly. “First time we’d met. But she was looking and sounding pretty lucid.”

“Really? Because Luna told me about how she’d met Maxine.” Alex sighed, looking down at his hand beneath Cadance’s forehoof. “My sister used to think ponies were the best. You can see how she might have changed her mind. But if you think she’s got a grudge, you’ve got no idea how bad people like Verity Carter could act– and that’s before you get to the outright butchers. So her wanting to stay a pony… It, it feels suspect.”

Cadance’s eyes gleamed.

“Or maybe it’s to do with a brew more potent than the Conversion serum. A different kind of elixir, the hardest to brew, but one I know very well,” said the Princess of Love.

“Perhaps,” said the soldier opposite her, a younger man than how he sounded, which was unconvinced, brought on by the weariness of experience. “Perhaps.”

“Pardon me, Captain,” Cadance spoke, after a time. “I’ve still got an appointment.”

Alex nodded resignedly, pulling away.

“I get you. I’ll be leaving through the side-door.”

Yet somewhat humorously, just as Alex wheeled towards said door, it was opened by a figure whom Celestia had frequently described as a ‘jack-in-the-box’, for reasons that were becoming clearer to Cadance.

Exchanging nods with Alex, Headmaster Nexus strode in, meeting his cue.

“Greetings, Headmaster,” said Cadance, while Alex closed the door behind him. “So, will you fill me one last time time on whom I’m going to meet? Amazing coincidence, isn’t it, that he should be from your hometown and have gone to live in my Realm.”

“Isn’t it, Your Highness?” Nexus said eagerly, rubbing his forehooves together. “But as I say, there’s a narrative thread–”

“And you say,” Cadance cut him off, “he’s got the qualifications to join Twilight on her research in Saddle Mareabia?”

The interruption was a bit unseemly, but Cadance knew that Nexus would get carried away, if given the chance.

“Oh, he does some tutoring, good with kids, I’m told,” said Nexus, nodding. “And he was close friends with my goddaughter as a child. Phew, dinners with her family sure got awkward once he moved and she entered that gloomy phase…”

“Why, what happened?” Cadance said, surprised.

Nexus’s expression sobered somewhat. “It’s… not easy to explain,” he said. “Friendship problems, mostly. On some level, she was jealous he got accepted by the School before she was. She had such talent, but she never took my offers of a scholarship…”

Though slight a description, it was enough to remind Cadance of a certain fiery-maned filly she’d grown up with in Canterlot, until the other girl had run away.

Her heart went out to Spell Nexus, wondering if he had regrets like Celestia’s, wondering also if his goddaughter and this Sunburst had been like her and Sunset.

“Well…” Cadance said, heading for the main door. “I’m sure he’s a perfect fit, Headmaster.”

Entering the antechamber, however, Cadance felt her heart miss a beat. It was like seeing a ghost. Or seemed like it at first, until she composed herself. Those colours, though, and most especially that shock of a mane… A shock it was, truly, to come across such fiery hair twice in her life. Her earliest memory of arriving in Canterlot Palace was the image of encountering a filly she’d thought was burning with fury.

None of this same anger was to be seen here. In fact, the orange-and-white-marked stallion hadn’t even noticed her enter, so focused was he on levitating and stacking a few tea plates. Right then, however, Cadance seriously wondered if Sunset Shimmer had a twin brother.

Upon sighting her, the stallion fumbled, scrambling to let the tea plates stabilise within his aura.

“Y-your Highness, hello!” he greeted brightly. With a white-socked hoof, he adjusted his pin, keeping the starry-blue robe he wore fixed on him, glasses hanging precariously off his nose. “I’m sorry, I was…”

She offered him a tentative smile, hoping her feelings didn’t show. “Filling time? Don’t worry, I got a bit busy back there, too.”

Her own horn lit up, her aura joining his in settling the tea plate stack.

Cadance’s gaze drifted to the stallion’s clothing, a robe that wouldn’t look out of place on Headmaster Nexus. Only, judging from the wear and tear at the seams, it wasn’t one worn exclusively for ceremonial reasons.

“Do you want me to–”

“Oh no, no,” Cadance said, “it’s fine, I’d say you’ve been waiting a while. So, Sunburst, was it?”

* * * * *

There wasn’t much distraction in Galatea’s room. But her room sat atop the Watchtower, its windows granting her a view of the Hall and the windswept landscape beyond. Once Galatea thought she’d seen all she could see this quiet night, she turned away from the window, gently closing it with a flick of her horn. Her gaze settled on the coffee table – one of very few pieces of furniture there, apart from the bed, the old nightstand to its right side, and the empty cupboard. Yes, Galatea found it just right. Pity she’d had to turn down Celestia’s generous offer of a room closer to hers or Luna’s, though.

Only the large, fluffy white pillow Celestia had given her was an indulgence. Her mattress was enough to pad, nothing more. Not that Galatea particularly minded. She was used to sleeping with less. And the pillow was comfortable, she thought, settling in snugly to examine the books Luna had brought back from Earth.

It was a gentle read. A child’s writing could be so imaginative. But Megan Williams hadn’t had to imagine much, for her tales were those passed down here.

Dear Diary,

Today was crazy! There was a rainbow that came out of nowhere and then there was this pegasus named Firefly in the well. I got her out, but then she said she needed my help. Next thing I knew, we were dancing on air in the sky. Her land was under attack by someone called Tirek.

I’d have been done for when a bunch of dragon-things attacked after Firefly landed. If it wasn’t for Scorpan– who was a good guy actually, just pretending to be a bad guy– rescuing me when one of the dragons grabbed and dropped me. We managed to escape and get help…

Sloppy, swift, and so very young indeed. Luna had spoken of a poet. Perhaps, Galatea mused, she had presumed a little much of a teenage girl… Yet...

‘Scorpan… Scorpan…’

The name was familiar. Galatea leaned back, resting against her bed’s headrest. An old name. One with hardly any descended forms. Faces, old and young from every Family, passed her mind’s eye. The name ‘Tirek’ had also popped up plenty. The Lord of Midnight Castle. It brought to her the same degree of familiarity as ‘Princess Platinum’ or ‘Clover the Clever’. A long-forgotten name that resurfaced.

But ‘Scorpan’ was a different matter. It jumped to her like an old friend or family member would, like ‘Celestia’ or ‘Luna’, ‘Broadleaf’ or ‘Snow Mist’...

Galatea blinked. ‘Of course it had to be you… Where else could I have looked.’

Now she remembered old Scorpan. An aged, decrepit figure, with batty wings and tired eyes. A twisted, gem-topped purple staff in hand. Neither friend nor foe, but an acquaintance of the past. Polite, kind, elusive, persistent. Ever-so-slightly curious.

Galatea’s lips twisted into a tired grimace. She should not have parted ways, left him alone, without ascertaining that he–

There was a knock at the door. Galatea frowned.

“Yes?” she called, affecting the rough, worker accent of her habitual disguise. “Who’s there?”

“Tis I, Sister,” came the tired voice of Luna. Galatea paused for a moment. Her horn had glowed light grey, beginning to shift her form into that of the earthpony ‘Shale’. She breathed out a sigh.

“I’ll get the door.”

When the door swung open, Galatea met her youngest sister’s gaze. This night, Luna wasn’t wearing her usual regalia. Only a pleasant violet, wide-brimmed gardener’s hat. Under her wing was an envelope. Galatea’s gaze drifted to the bags beneath Luna’s eyes, mixed with the dark freckles that now showed beneath her eyes and upon the bridge of her snout, then to the light-blue tuft of mane sticking out beneath the hat’s brim, and finally the rough patches of fur concealing bruises yet to heal.

“Have you gotten your rest?” asked Galatea. She reached to where the tuft of mane hung over Luna’s eyes, pushing it aside. Her sister did not react. “I see your mane hasn’t got its colour back. And your freckles are showing.”

“Astute as always, Sister,” Luna deadpanned. “But, yes. I don’t know yet when I shall return to what I ought to look like. Why, what is the matter?”

Galatea’s forehoof returned to the stony floor. She shook her head. “Even with caution,” she muttered, “it was not enough, I see.”

All Luna had was a tired laugh. She lifted the large, brown envelope she’d been carrying.

“The Empire proved cunning,” said Luna, giving her the envelope. “Here are your credentials. It was trivial of Tia to arrange for them.”

“Indeed,” Galatea replied with a nod. The envelope was large, but she held onto it. “I would expect no less.”

“She is the best,” agreed Luna. Then she cocked an eyebrow. “But… geology. Of all things, I did not expect that of you.”

“It is a proper science, Luna,” Galatea lectured on instinct, frowning. “The knowledge gained is as important as any other science, thank you very much.”

Perhaps she was too quick to retort. Yet her sister’s tired eyes held only bemusement. “Oh, no, no doubt on that, Sister. But truly, that you’ve found the time…”

“I have,” Galatea replied. She took a quick glance at the lavender pot hanging in her room, and back to Luna. “I hadn’t expected you to take up shears, either. But your work speaks for itself.”

“Let us hope so,” said Luna. “May I come in?”

Galatea stepped out the way. Her room was fairly spartan. Luna scarcely had to move anything in her stride, straight towards the lavender window-pot. It was one of many similar pots throughout Mount Metazoa, but it didn’t evade Galatea’s eye that this pot was of higher caliber. Luna’s tender care ensured the lavender seamlessly moved between the old pot and the new.

It was Galatea who soon broke the silence. “As I’ve mentioned, your work speaks for itself.”

Her sister chuckled. “At this time of day, I would have expected you to mingle with the staff,” said Luna, adjusting the hanging pot. It gently swayed in the wind, the pleasant aroma of lavender keenly felt in the breeze.

Galatea bit her lip. She shot Megan’s journal a quick glance. “I’ve had other… matters, to take care of, Luna.”

“Well, these are interesting times,” said Luna, setting her can down. She turned to look at Galatea, wearing a thin smile. “Your day went well enough, then? Another day of observation.”

“Usually, mine workload is heavier…” remarked Galatea.

Something flashed behind Luna’s eyes, then. The weariness was all too familiar to Galatea, from the eyes of many workers she’d mingled with.

“Always,” whispered Luna. She lifted her watering can. “But a little gardening takes my mind off the duties of the Dream Realm, arduous task that it is.”

“Indeed,” said Galatea. “On dreams… I believe I am in need of your aid there, Luna. I believe I’ve been imparted with knowledge from mine counterpart, regarding the present Headmaster.”

This caught Luna’s attention. “Knowledge?” she said. “I cannot look into your dreams, Galatea. You know that. But you said your counterpart, prior to her… death, let some of her knowledge transfer to you.”

“Via the Plane of Images, yes,” Galatea said grimly. “And appropriately enough, I believe it touches upon necromancy.”

An odd light gleamed in Luna’s eyes.

“Luna,” said Galatea, “what is it?”

“I think I may have heard of this,” said Luna. “While on Earth.”

* * * * *

“I once met a man– well, sometimes he’s a man– who was great with questions, but he’s not been around a while. Something about ‘bad atmosphere, needed to go back and tweak something’.”

“A man? What kind of a man?”

“A scholar of sorts, with a fixation on the souls of the dead,” Jones remarked. “In fact, to tell the truth, Princess Luna, when we saw you and that Discord fellow appear in the heavens, my first thought was our man had wrought something… Till I remembered you’re not dead. Merely petrified.”

Luna had liked hearing about that even less than her own fate in this other-world.

“And have you any idea where your… man, might have gone to?”

“Through the looking-glass, I expect,” Jones said with a chuckle. “He was a right card.”

“This does trouble me...” Luna said. “I’m not sure what trust I’d place in those who fixate upon the souls of the dead. Necromancy is considered a dark art of the highest order by my people. Father Krampus has been remembered by many names, but merely the memory of the Lord of Tambelon brings nightmares which even I struggle to ward away.”

* * * * *

As Luna concluded her swift explanation, Galatea had nothing immediate to say.

“And so,” said Luna. “You’re telling me that in the other-Equestria, the Headmaster became a… a necromancer, and took up contact with your alternate self?”

Lips thinned, Galatea nodded. “That is what I’m telling you.”

“Necromancy is a foul, despicable art, one whose path I dare not tread,” said Luna. Her eyes met Galatea’s in a sharp glare. “Not even when temptation lay so close to my heart.”

“The dead must rest,” Galatea said, nodding. “No matter how tempting it may be.”

“Clearly,” Luna continued, bile lacing her tone, “some saw fit to wield it as they so wish. Celestia, my sister… our, sister… who is no tyrant… and delivers justice… fairly…” As the bile receded, each word was more a struggle against emotion than the last, “Had the Saddle Mareabian court sorcerer arrested, with the Malikah’s approval, for the mere possession of the Liber Grogar...”

“Hm,” Galatea said. “He wasn’t planning on using it?”

“No,” Luna said simply. “But illegal purchase of such a tome was deemed cause enough to spend five years in Erebus.”

“Yet even so, politics being what they are,” Galatea noted, “Our sister Celestia believes she can reach an agreement for her student and fellow researchers to consult the al-Husan Library… Wait, hm. Didn’t you say it was Headmaster Nexus who led you back to that family?”

“He did,” Luna said. “But more importantly, if ironically, was that he led us to an Equestrian mage we may wish to keep an eye out on. Of course, Tia’s got to be clever, seeking to assign young Sunburst as one of Twilight’s research partners.”

Galatea smiled mockingly. “‘Keep your friends close’, isn’t that so?”

“And hope it makes them closer as friends,” Luna replied dryly. “Methinks that’s Tia’s thinking.”

“Maybe she should do the same with Headmaster Nexus,” Galatea said. “Just to be sure. But I understand he’s planning to accompany Madame Heartstrings’ Expedition. In which case, all the more reason that I go along, to keep watch on him.”

“Then I… shan’t waste anymore of your time, Sister,” said Luna, still with that joyless tone.

The bite, Galatea noticed, had turned out sharper than when Luna had spoken her name to Celestia one morning. She did not tip her hat this time, nor look back as she strode past. Another missed chance. Luna would be disappearing down the staircase soon. No, that should not be. Her sister was right here where she needed to be.

Galatea levitated the envelope to her nightstand, knocking the lamp aside. “Luna, wait.”

Her sister paused in her steps. She glanced back, with a raised eyebrow. The words died in Galatea’s own throat, as gears turned inside her head.

“I… if it isn’t too inconvenient,” Galatea murmured, pawing at the ground, “perhaps… we could have tea time after, at Gallopoli. We’ve much to discuss. And… Celestia is not here,” she added, feeling a little fuzzier. “We should do it with her.”

Luna blinked, furrowing her brows. “I don’t see why not,” she said. “I’ll inform Tia. I’m sure she will be thrilled.”

With neither seeming sure what to say next, they both settled on quick nods.

“Goodnight, Sister…,” Luna said uncertainly. “Happy reading, and… try not to stay up too late? Our sister’s an early riser, as you know.”

“That she is,” agreed Galatea, “Goodnight, Sister...”

Perhaps there was something about the way Luna carried herself, with her gait, and the way her mane was neatly brushed beneath her gardener’s hat, that caught Galatea’s attention a moment. She’d seen it plenty of times before, in many different times.

“And good luck with your talk,” finished Galatea.

Luna turned back, blinking. “How…?”

“Sisterly intuition,” Galatea answered, feeling a little curl of her lips, “Do not worry. I won’t tell Celestia. It’s your news to tell.”

“Ah,” Luna said, sounding awkward. “I… yes. Very well. Thank you, Sister. Rest well.”

With that, Luna was off, leaving Galatea alone in the doorway. She sighed, and turned, closing up behind her. Gone were the musings of old stories for now. Galatea had never considered, for all Celestia spoke fondly of the brew, what sort of tea she might personally like. It was hardly a concern of hers, not when coffee was more valued by laborers. An acquired taste, but she did like it, especially when her co-workers would offer a cup if she’d forgotten to pick up her share. And perhaps tea, like chocolate, would become a new favourite of hers.

Galatea went to her bedside table, where the envelope lay unblemished. Perhaps she should request a frame. Celestia wouldn’t mind, not when it would be... convenient, to protect her credentials here. Practicality. Not sentiment.

‘Not sentiment,’ she told herself. The hesitation remained.

She laid on the bed, legs folded. She reached for the envelope, and opened it with care, peering at the words by candlelight.

My dear sister,

I hope this letter finds you and Luna well. How are you both faring?

It was no problem at all arranging for the changes you’ve requested. A rocktorate this old, I’m sure none of your future colleagues would mind. If anyone takes a closer look, Madame Heartstrings or Prince Blueblood can help you with your cover.

Would you be up for tea time, before your eventual departure? You don’t need to answer this now. I’d love to hear it firsthoof, yes or no. I do not mind. I’m not sure if she’s mentioned this or not, but Luna has told me of your whereabouts from when she and I had breakfast with Sint and Ilsa, on the first day of the summit. I wouldn’t have minded if you joined us.

I can promise you there will be chocolate cake. I know you like it. And you still have a lot of birthdays to catch up on.

Our doors are always open, and I know Luna would agree.

Much love,
~ Your Sister, Celestia.

And there as promised, her revised credentials. A document which declared that the recipient had been bestowed the title of Doctor of Geology, from the University of Manehattan. A mare named Shale. Only, it wasn’t always Shale. Celestia had certainly needed to explain away that part to the university board. Yet she said it was no problem at all.

Galatea did not look up from the letter, for some time.

* * * * *

It had been a pleasant surprise for Twilight when she’d learned of the Hall of Unity’s Grand Archives. Even the greatest libraries of Equestria paled in comparison.

She pushed open the wooden doors. A great sight welcomed her, just as it had in the first days of her stay. Towering shelves loomed over the Archives. Rows upon rows of bookshelves, the largest of them so tall they were accompanied by their own staircases. A good three storeys beneath the tallest, solitary archivists could be seen mingling on the balconies, their claws or hooves or magical auras holding ancient books and scrolls to review. To Twilight’s understanding, many of these were copies of each species’ records, stretching back more than three thousand years ago, for the Minotaurs who’d founded the Hall wished to retain their memory in the event of catastrophe.

Much like humanity, Twilight thought in passing.

She continued her walk, passing by the table rows. Even these had scrolls stacked on them – undoubtedly reviewed by archivists from far and wide. Twilight had gotten to know some of them personally. There she replied in kind to a friendly wave given by the griffon archivist, Glenda. One of Grizelda’s followers, she was a young griffon of passing resemblance to the snow leopards who roamed the mountains of the Far East. She and Twilight had been engaged in a passionate, yet friendly debate days ago, about the throne of Griffonstone, land disputes, and a claim held by the Young Pretender.

A good five minutes later, having turned down Glenda’s offer for another archive-binge as politely as she could, Twilight found her spot. A small, makeshift hideout compiled from pillows lined all along a few seats she’d claimed from several rows. It was hidden here in the tax-collecting rows, between the Kirin’s disputes with Neighpon or the Griffish Isles’ old scandal with Manehattan. Boring, some would say, but not Twilight. Perhaps she did have to take a longer walk to the Equestrian and hippogriff rows, but it was a worthy trade-off for privacy.

Still, with much on her mind, from strange creatures to evil mirror-versions of herself, Twilight kept quiet for the longest time, with only a coffee-table a couple of tomes on the history of the zebra tribes for company. They weren’t the only books there, either. Flanking her, she had placed one of the collections of bedtime stories Luna had brought back. The other, Luna had told her, had been given to Galatea. Canterlot, A History, Nature or Nurture – Professor Dartwing’s iconic book on ponykind’s role as caretakers of the environment, famously defended by one of his colleagues, Professor Huxley the Diamond Dog – and even Lyra’s crackpot compilation on Dream Valley by her beloved Professor Shriek. Finally, Howie Waggoner’s Ponyland: Dispelling the Myths of Dream Valley. Back during its republication, Twilight hadn’t given it the time of day. But plenty of legends had since turned out to be true, like when the book Supernaturals had proven surprisingly useful.

‘How’d I ever come to this…’ Twilight thought, looking at the book’s unorthodox cover. It resembled a stylised drawing of a valley, question marks scattered all around it. ‘Well, guess legends have… truth to them…’

Ultimately, nothing could take her mind off Spike. Both of them, for even as she thought of the little drake she called brother, whom she’d left in Canterlot, her thoughts drifted back the twisted, pitiful creature lying unconscious in the Hall’s medical wing. He didn’t speak, Cadance had told her. Twilight doubted he could tell anyone his story. And what was done to him…

Horrific.

Celestia had established laws against the majority of body-altering spells, and from what Twilight had heard, the Solar Empire had systematically broken every single one.

‘He probably won’t even want to talk to me… Not when I… she did this...’

Twilight tapped the table, as she tended to. She couldn’t forget how she, and all others there, had been stunned silent when Cadance and Luna, accompanied by two mares from another world, one a flawed mirror of her old foalsitter, and the latter a friend she’d lost a long time ago, had emerged from the mirror’s portal. Among the four, they carried Spike, injured and unconscious. It had felt like she was dreaming, seeing her little brother like this. But none could compare to whatever nightmares must’ve gone through his mind…

‘Spike…’ she thought, unsure if she was thinking of hers, or theirs. ‘Why…’

“You seem awfully quiet, Twilight Sparkle.”

Twilight snapped out of her train of thought. Outside her hideout’s borders, there stood Princess Luna, who stared at her, unblinking. She wore a gardener’s hat.

“Forgive me,” Luna said evenly. “I… presumed that perusing the Archives would ease your thoughts after… yesterday.”

Her freckles somehow flushed a little darker. Come to think of it, Twilight thought, she hadn’t noticed Luna even had freckles before.

“Oh, sorry,” replied Twilight, after a moment’s pause. “It’s just… there’s so much to think about.”

“I can imagine. May I come in?” said Luna. She patted a large pillow. “You do have fine tastes in pillows, Twilight.”

“Well, y’see, heh,” Twilight replied, chuckling. “Someone ordered pillows from Canterlot, the Guard told me, but there were too many for one room. So I asked if I could have a few and…” She patted her own pillow. “Here we are! Just a nice… comfy place to read, Princess.”

“Hmpf, I’ve a suspicion who ordered these. But I do like them,” said Luna, entering the perimeter. “I should… try it for my place, too.”

“Oh, you should, you should…”

Luna rested on her side, facing her across the coffee table. It struck Twilight that Luna wore neither her shoes nor her peytral. Not even her crown remained. The locks of light-blue mane hanging over her forehead and freckles on her snout completed her unusual look, yet she still looked graceful and elegant. Perhaps even more so, Twilight thought, warmth in her cheek.

“How do you feel, Twilight?” Luna asked softly, her expression turning somewhat shadowed. “How are you, and your friends doing? I’m… I’m sorry I haven’t really checked on you all in the waking world, past Nightmare Night.”

“That’s alright,” said Twilight. “I know you’re busy, Princess, and… I guess we all are, now. I’m… I’m doing okay, I guess. Fluttershy’s… everyone’s fine. We just had a lot to talk about.”

Pushing the thoughts of the broken Spike away, Twilight let out a long sigh, rubbing her temples. Luna had visible eyebags. At the mention of Fluttershy, Twilight noted a quick, downcast look full of what may have been shame.

“Goodness, Princess, you… It’s been three days. You look like you didn’t get any sleep at all.”

“I do, don’t I?”

“Yeah,” Twilight said, nodding. “I mean uh, I… didn’t know you had freckles before.”

“Freckles?” Luna repeated, arching an eyebrow. Her cheeks flushed a little darker, forehooves moving to touch her own nose. “Yes, but– they aren’t supposed to show!” she grumbled. “Not now of all times.”

“Well, when are they supposed to?” asked Twilight. She rested her chin, to watch Luna shift her body shift slightly. And there, on Luna’s back, there were also darkened spots. Dapples. “Also… um, you got some on your back, too.”

Luna let out a loud groan. “Autumn, Autumn, they should show most clearly during Autumn! They do not show so prominently this early– blasted interdimensional time differences! If you’ll excuse me...” Her horn glowed. But that was all it did, before its light dimmed and faded. She cursed. “Blast, I must be more exhausted than I thought.”

“Were you going for a glamour spell?” asked Twilight, stifling a giggle.

“Makeup usually sufficed,” Luna bemoaned, hanging her head and averting her gaze. “But the Autumn dapples can be so annoying to hide.”

“Well, for what’s it worth, Princess?” Twilight snorted, interrupting Luna’s grumbling. “I think they look nice.”

That brought pause to Luna. She reached up to brush away a few of her now light-blue bangs.

“Do you mean it?” she asked.

“Why wouldn’t I?” Twilight retorted, offering a little smile. “It does, really.”

“Ah, um, yes, you see,” Luna stammered out, “Tia thought they looked silly, when we were fillies. Children’s banter, I assure you. But they can be distracting, I must admit.”

“Well, Princess Celestia isn’t here, you know,” Twilight said, shrugging. “And hey, this isn’t the Royal Canterlot Voice or anything. Really, I… think you should keep them, freckles and dapples.”

Luna bit her lip, hooves tapping the pillow in a rhythmic beat. Then, she nodded, ever so slowly.

“Very well, then, ah… um, thank you, Twilight.” She shook her head, before Twilight could follow. “Right. Well. If I may ask, in turn, ahem… I’m asking a lot, aren’t I? Sorry, um, yes– how goes your research with the Amulet?”

She had asked this before. But Twilight didn’t particularly mind. “Oh, it’s fine,” she said, smiling. “I know, I know I… probably need to finish it, don’t I? Just… I don’t even know if it matters, really. I mean, after… this.” Another pause. Twilight sighed, pushing a book aside. “To be honest, I don’t know if I can continue, knowing just how horrible everything is, Princess. Spike, Discord… now we know war’s coming for real and–”

Twilight glanced at Luna’s light-blue mane, distractingly unmagical. If she had to guess, the battle between Luna and the other-Twilight must have been draining even for the Princess of the Night. Not for the first time, Twilight wondered if Luna’s covert gazes were to compare her with her counterpart.

“What was she like?” Twilight asked, after a pause. “The Archmage.”

Luna didn’t say anything, at first. It was difficult to tell what lied beneath her stoic, regal mask.

“She was… like you,” Luna said quietly. “Different, but much alike. She’s done terrible things, I won’t sugarcoat it, but… she’s… she thought it was the for the best. The Empire, the serum…”

The thought of the ponification serum brought a shudder to Twilight.

“From what I’ve… gleaned from her memories,” Luna continued. “You– I mean, your counterpart, she did not… she tried her best to help. Help, in her own way. But some part of you lived on beneath the mask of the Archmage. And deep down, she’s… sad.”

“Sad?” Twilight asked, ignoring the growing lump in her chest. It was only logical, though Luna wouldn’t say it, to assume the Tyrant had tasked her – counterpart, Twilight reminded herself – to create the vile serum at the heart of this war.

“Aye,” Luna affirmed. “The Bearers are still together but, she’s lost so much. Lyra… Cadance…”

Luna’s voice trailed off, and she averted her eyes. Who else, Twilight wondered, did the Archmage lose, that Luna wouldn’t speak of? Then, she remembered, a child turned into a weapon of war. The drake whose broken form lay slumbering, tended to by the Mikado’s finest. Her own little brother.

“Spike,” Twilight finished. “That’s what you were gonna say right, Princess?”

Luna meekly nodded, still looking down. Twilight shook her head.

“She hurt Spike,” she concluded, icily. “We saw him. Or what… what happened to him. I don’t understand why anyone could do that to Spike and-and think they did him a favour! Gah, sorry, I know it’s a library but… Starswirl’s beard, I… how could I-she do this…”

She was starting to hyperventilate now, a forehoof placed on the table, one on her chest. Cadance’s breathing technique was failing her. She saw what became of Spike, how she – no, not her, the Archmage – had turned him inside out.

“She pulled him apart a-and put him back together. Why? I– I don’t understand, and I won’t, because, because he’s, he’s just a baby and… and…”

She was going into an aria soon, she could feel it. Yet, sudden warmth flushed within her, as she felt Luna’s forehoof touch hers.

“I keep telling myself I’d never do that,” Twilight said, “That… that he’s family, and I love him. But I did!” She looked up to Luna with tears in her eyes. “How could I... how could anyone...?”

“Twilight,” said Luna warmly. “It’s… take a deep breath. In, and out.”

So she did, for a few moments. And when she was done, Luna was looking right at her, again, with a gentle smile.

“Right… right, sorry,” said Twilight.

She withdrew her forehoof from Luna’s, resting upon the coffee table. There, they sat in silence once more, quietly considering one another, and neither knew what to say. Luna’s blue-green eyes, cool and tranquil as the Moon she raised, seemed as warm as Celestia’s today… perhaps warmer still. Or were they always like that? Twilight shook her head, feeling her cheeks burn up.

“Sorry, sorry,” Twilight said, swallowing. “It’s not everyday you get to hear about… you, doing things you haven’t done.”

“Oh, do not worry… These are strange times.”

“Strange times, isn’t that an understatement,” Twilight said, deadpan. “Isn’t that a Kirin proverb? I don’t even know what I’m gonna do. Well, there was that project I had in mind, for a school, but… I don’t know, it’s silly.”

“School?” Luna asked, tilting her head.

“To open a school of… friendship.” She gave a short giggle. “You know, get everyone to… understand one another. It’d be a waste if we all just parted ways, after this is over. Sorry, it’s… Yeah, it’s kind of silly. I just… you know. I just had the thought that, with Princess Celestia’s exhibition plans and Lyra’s expedition, I should chip in, too, back home. But, I don’t know, Princess. I don’t want to waste your time babbling.”

“Oh… Well, on the contrary, Twilight,” said Luna. “I, for one, would love to hear it.”

“You would?”

“Yes,” said Luna, smiling, “I dabbled in educational reform after Discord’s fall, you see. And the work doesn’t stop at the war’s end. On that, I’m sure both my sisters would agree.”

“Yeah, eheh, it’s… I thought I had to do something, right, Princess?” Twilight said, nodding. “Though, Princess Celestia must’ve covered it already.”

“Nay,” Luna said. “Perhaps she did, but nothing is new under the Sun. It’s what you do that sets it apart. My sister pulls many strings, but she believes everyone has their part to play.” She reached forwards and tapped her chest, then retracted quickly, looking a little shy. “This is yours, Twilight.” She managed an awkward smile, one that Twilight returned.

“Right, right!” Twilight exclaimed, flicking her mane aside. “Okay, okay, I’ll have to draft a curriculum, I’ll… I’ll have to ask around more. Glenda, maybe Glenda’s got a few suggestions too! Gotta take all the cultures into account, goodness, there’s so many! All the tribes, all Twelve Families, and then there’s also humanity. I also need a permit, convince a few teachers and…”

She continued for a solid minute, by her estimate, but in all likelihood, it was probably an hour. Wild gestures were a-plenty as she spoke of the Archives’ own mysterious history, how they’d all come together at a moment’s notice. Luna had a few questions of her own, quizzically inquiring what activities this school would perform, teamwork and games and so much more…

And when she was done, Twilight felt her mind clearer than it had been. Based on the shushes from down the aisles, she might as well have sung an aria.

“... And this isn’t even going what my friends would think! Gah! So much to talk about…”

“And so little time,” Luna finished. Her smile wasn’t mysterious at all, from the way she rested her chin upon her forehooves.

“Right? Hah, and they say we can’t teach friendship. Well, not exactly teaching it, but we’ll encourage it!”

Another shush from down the aisle prompted Twilight to step off the coffee table, sheepishly. Luna clapped her hooves.

“I cannot say I’ve ever seen a performance like that, but well done! I think,” she said approvingly. “Do you… feel better?”

“Yeah! Yeah…” Twilight replied. A few intrusive thoughts still passed by – Spike, the Empire, the Archmage. Even Moondancer. She shook it away. “There’s still plenty to figure it out, but… I know what I have to do. Just look at all this, Princess. Everyone’s… everyone’s history is here. Who’re we if we don’t share it?” She looked at Luna eye-to-eye. “And we’ll prove the Empire and their Co-Harmony Sphere wrong. We can make our own bonds, without destroying memories.”

“I think,” Luna said, smiling serenely, “I’d love to see that. A bond not on their terms.”

“Exactly!” exclaimed Twilight, matching Luna’s smile. “Though I should… probably hold off on it, I mean, with Princess Celestia busy, I’m sure she won’t have time to read–”

“Oh, or you could write to me,” said Luna, suddenly. “I, well, I suppose I can make suggestions, even a few arrangements! In addition to my sister, of course, as you usually do.”

Twilight tapped her chin. “Well, if it’s okay with you? I mean… I’m not sure I’d want to keep you busy either, Princess. I’d love to! I just… didn’t think you’d be available, is all, sorry.”

“Fret not– if any, I should’ve tried reaching out to you as well...” said Luna gently. “It… I will always have time for you– nay, I will make time, and I shall listen to what you have to say, whatever it is...”

And the Princess’ smile could have melted glaciers now, despite her tired eyes. Twilight did not hesitate in returning it. But it had occurred to Twilight that Luna hadn’t spoken much about how she was faring. And for the past few days, nothing suggested to Twilight that the Princess had found much rest.

“Oh, Princess Luna?” she said. “Thank you.”

Luna tilted her head. “Pardon?”

“You brought Spike here,” remarked Twilight, smiling despite the tears that welled up. Luna looked away for a moment.

“I had to, after what he’s been through,” she said stiffly. “But I could have done more for him.”

Instinctively, Twilight held Luna’s forehoof, comfortingly. “You’ve done enough. He’s here, and he’s safe. That’s on you and Cadance. I’ll never forget that.”

When Luna looked, Twilight saw nothing but kindness and relief etched across her face, and her beauty shone through weariness.

“If you say so, Twilight,” said Luna, gently. “I do hope you are doing just fine.”

“Well, so-so, but, I’ll… I’ll be fine, really. You need your rest. But thanks for the talk. We can, you know, we can talk again later, when you’re doing better. These books aren’t going anywhere. We’ve got time.”

“But I hope I am not taking away your time.”

“Well, no, you didn’t. In fact, I’ve been keeping you awake, haven’t I? Don’t worry, I always have time for friends, Princess.”

“Oh. Am I… your friend?”

“Of course!” Twilight said, beaming. “You are, and we’ve got catching up to do. After you rest.”

Curiously, Luna simply glanced around, as if she was avoiding her eyes directly. “Ah, yes, I guess that I should get my rest, the clock is ticking,” she said hurriedly. Another fake cough, and she turned her gaze away to look at the clock. But that didn’t make sense, Twilight realized. The Archives did not have any clocks on this aisle.

Luna turned back, fixing her gaze on her. “But… I was wondering, Twilight,” she said softly. “When will you be leaving?”

“Around the time Lyra will be, Princess,” said Twilight. “I’m hoping I’ll be back here soon... Saddle Mareabia won’t be a walk in the park. Why, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, just… I’ll miss you,” said Luna. She cleared her throat. “I, ah, you wouldn’t mind, then, well, if I stay here a little longer and catch up. Besides...” She patted her pillow. “You have wonderful taste.”

“Oh, if you prefer, Princess,” Twilight said, giggling. “Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere then. Maybe you could show me a few books? I got a couple questions, too, if you don’t mind.”

That brought a mirthful laugh from the Princess of the Night. “Perfect. And… you can call me Luna. Ask away.”

“Okay, Luna,” answered Twilight, beaming. “Hmm, well… first… how’d you figure you had those?” She pointed at Luna’s nose. Luna’s smile grew wider still.

“Very young, you see. It was… it was Sint who’d first remarked on them… but it was Lady Mistmane who saw that they were most prominent under the Autumn Moon, when we went out to garden…”

So the talk went on, for hours and hours, but never did either of their smiles waver.

~ Gallopoli, Equestria ~ Day 11 of the Convocation ~ Twentieth Day of the Month of Rophon, Year 3 of the Era Harmoniae ~

The ponies of Equestria may call this quaint seaside town somewhere they liked going to, a place to let life’s worries pass. But it dulled the senses, attracted complacency. All the things Ember thought didn’t fit a dragon. Once she and Madame Heartstrings’ contingent had arrived, Ember had excused herself to find a perch, on the ancient walls of the citadel, at a fair distance, but still within earshot. This place was a fortress once, standing proud in facing whatever invaders would dare approach from the waters in the West.

Now it was a tourist hotspot, its cracked walls covered in flowers. Ember groaned. Ponies! So close, yet so far from her understanding. She clutched the burlag bag countaining the Chaoskämper’s precious canister. It was only at Spykoran’s insistence she’d come here.

‘What a waste…’, she thought, ignoring the inane discussions of Heartstrings’ crowd.

But then the air changed. The winds turned. The scent of seawater and coal mingled. The rumble of machinery mingled with the crowd’s noises until only it remained.

There, gliding across the sea, emerged three vessels she’d only seen above Kirin waters. Great vessels of metal and wood, woven together by screws and welding. A figurehead emerging from the bow, a dragonhead, its piercing gaze cowing all within its sight. Enclosed, the vessel’s squat form protected from the rough weather it was constructed to withstand. A dozen windows of crisscrossing metal offered their occupants the sole sight of the outside world.

Ember had seen sky-whales before, the real-life beasts, rare as they were, on the occasional excursion aboard the Mikado’s private barge. She’d never seen sky-turtles, but if she’d had to guess, this was as close as she could get.

For such a stingy folk, the sky-turtle ships, Ember admitted, were works of art. The crowd that gasped and clapped below her certainly agreed.

* * * * *

Gallopoli was a familiar name to many beachgoers from across Equestria, and even the odd foreign visitor. The town, with its temperate climate, offered a pleasant seaside experience, its windswept cliffs and tranquil, white-sand beaches a highly-sought destination, with plenty of options among its old, rustic homes for those who wished to spend the night. And, for the more historically-minded, there was the old fortress situated by the coast, its large, stony walls facing the sea to counter pirates and raiders.

Thorax wondered if it had been breached. Perhaps the tour guides had something to say about that topic. But Queen Chrysalis had little need for tours. For now, she seemed content with lounging at the beach. And where Chrysalis wished to go, her entourage would follow. For a weekend, it was a quiet day at the beach. There was no-one else there with them, in these late hours, save for a grey earthpony, minding her own business on a sunlounger. So quiet was she, lying on her belly and reading a book, one could mistake her for a statue, were it not for an occasional flick of the ear, or inquisitive, piercing-blue gaze thrown their way.

Then she would return to her book, leaving Thorax with the pain he felt in his back, so vividly.

Naturally, there was no way he’d complain. Chrysalis wouldn’t like that much. So he could only wish she’d shift her legs to a better position. Which she did every so often, but never enough. Thorax would steal glances, enviously watching the Queen sip from a glass of orange juice on her own sunlounger. It was one of a couple things she’d ordered from the inn. What a surprise it had been for the poor old innkeeper to see her standing there, flanked by Thorax and Pharynx, and so casually request the menu. And a bigger surprise when she took the time to pay.

A courtesy, she’d said, and just about the only courtesy she’d offer.

“Oh, move a bit to the left, would you?” Chrysalis asked, sweetly.

Thorax obliged. It wasn’t a question so much as a command. She adjusted her hindlegs, pressing her hooves down harder on his back, forcing him to dig in deeper into the sand. Grains of sand poured into the holes in his hooves. It stung. He bit his lip, stifling a whimper.

“Much better,” said Chrysalis, letting out a satisfied sigh. “My… what a lovely day this is, Thorax.”

There wasn’t much Thorax could do except nod, very slowly. Thankfully, that seemed to satisfy Chrysalis, who resumed drinking. He looked away, his eyes seeking a distraction, any distraction. There were plenty of sights, between the cliffs, the fortress looming in the distance, and the comfy seaside inns dotting the town, even those newly-arriving ships… Yet little love to be tasted on the mostly-empty beach.

He didn’t feel like stealing. But the pain in his back left him no choice. Thorax smelt the air, hoping to catch a whiff of freshly-cut grass. He had caught its scent from the earthpony, briefly. He didn’t know what sort of love it had been – perhaps she was an avid reader. Despite her dull, grey colours, he had found her a sight for sore eyes. But Thorax’s heart sank upon sighting an empty sunlounger. In the time it took for Chrysalis to ask for an adjustment, the mare must have finished reading.

Now Thorax felt truly alone… were it not for the little Changeling further down the beach, closer to the water. Aphid, he remembered. Aphid was here, too, if a little busy. Still making sandcastles in the wetter sands, humming to herself. Ostensibly, Chrysalis had put her there on lookout duty. Still, the Queen didn’t seem to mind Aphid’s sandcastles. And neither did Thorax. They were nice little sandcastles, although the tides would claim them in the morning. It didn’t matter to the peppy Aphid. She always had time to make more, and Thorax would watch.

The pain stung yet again when Chrysalis shifted. Thorax whimpered.

He focused, without turning his head, upon one of the castles. It was built on a sand-mountain, meticulously shaped to resemble the Canterhorn. The castle itself was an approximation of Canterlot Palace, its distinct ivory towers sticking out. Here, Thorax wondered how much time it had taken to build the true castle, a feat of engineering matched by few in history. A castle and city the Ebony Hive had ruthlessly assaulted. A throne Queen Chrysalis had desired above all, a proud symbol to be claimed for her own.

Princess Celestia, by contrast, seemed to regard a throne as a mere chair. Thorax wondered just then how many castles Celestia had built, and how many more she was planning to, in the days to follow. How many more bridges were to be built amidst the Concordat. How she had so readily offered help.

There, in the Gallopoli beach, Thorax wished he too could build bridges.

* * * * *

Life was good, Chrysalis mused. Here, in the shade of her umbrella, by the Gallopoli seaside, there was nowhere else she’d rather be. Fun as it was to toy with the Concordat proceedings, a Queen needed her rest. Gallopoli wasn’t the prettiest of resort towns, she felt, but nevertheless it would do, and Chrysalis found it just right. No meddling spywork. No troublesome princesses. No looming wars to worry about. Only her, always. Only her…

She leaned back onto the sunlounger, taking a long sip from her glass of juice, and purred. Her gaze panned over the waves, moving towards the beach. She frowned, tilting her sunhat. Empty beaches were scarce in love. Any other day, she’d have gladly feasted, tasting the delicacy of tourists from everywhere.

‘Bah,’ Chrysalis thought. ‘Perhaps I should’ve stayed in town. Ugh.’

Carefully balancing the sunhat upon her horn, Chrysalis looked to Gallopoli’s old fortress, and the gateways that led into the town proper. It was a few hundred paces away. Nominally, she’d come here to view the sky-turtles’ arrival herself. Heartstrings… she vaguely recalled that little green former stooge of hers. She rolled her eyes.

‘Eh, I can wait.’

So wait she did, adjusting her hindlegs upon her footstool. He whimpered. Chrysalis scoffed. At least this time around, he wasn’t too much of a distraction.

Then, upon sighting Pharynx, marching over with a cage on his powerful back, Chrysalis’ lips twisted into a wicked little smirk.

‘How about this for a distraction, hm?’ she thought. Her footstool’s little misadventures with the Dragon Princess hadn’t gone unnoticed by her. She had the bruise from Lady Cadenza, that stunted wretch, to prove it.

With the swiftness and discipline of a Hive soldier, Pharynx set down the obsidian cage, giving Chrysalis full view of its occupant. Who, naturally, didn’t look happy, lying down with his arms crossed and throwing her a scornful glare. But that glare got replaced by a confused look, when Chrysalis gestured at Pharynx to open the cage.

“Well, go on, then,” said Chrysalis.

She watched Garble stand to take his first few steps outside what had been his home for the past few weeks, onto the white sand. He looked around, bewildered, before settling his gaze on Chrysalis.

“So… no catch, nothin’?” Garble asked.

Chrysalis groaned. “No,” she said, baring her fangs. “Now, shoo, before I change my mind.”

It was all she had to say. Garble only took the time to rapidly duck back inside the cage, grabbing that mystery package he’d got a couple days earlier, before he scurried away along the beach, tail hanging behind him. Chrysalis watched his figure retreat, shrinking, until he disappeared into the cliffs.

Snorting dismissively, Chrysalis lifted her hindlegs off Thorax’s withers, stretching and yawning. She saw Thorax gasp for air, wobbling feebly onto his legs.

“You too. Run along, Thorax,” Chrysalis said, cracking her neck. “How about you go follow that princess of yours in town. You’re a Changeling. Act like it. Won’t that be fun?”

Chrysalis noticed Thorax glance at her in surprise, then nervously towards Pharnyx, who’d put on his most inscrutable expression. All Thorax did was give a quick, desperate nod, bowing at her in abject gratitude, after which he finally took flight.

* * * * *

It hadn’t taken long after that for Chrysalis to bemoan her loss of a footstool. It also hadn’t taken long for Pharynx to take his place. Perhaps Thorax had a point about Chrysalis’ hindlegs. Heavy, they were. And he knew the Queen was only putting him through this indignity as punishment for losing the duel with the human, Reiner. But Pharynx was a loyal soldier of the Hive, and it was his duty to carry out. Even something so menial as propping up the Queen. If Thorax couldn’t do this, Pharynx would stoically perform the task as only he could.

For that matter, Chrysalis didn’t seem too concerned with pressing him down. He noticed the Queen signalling a few new figures coming up the beach, one of whom he recognised as the Harlequin Queen-in-Waiting. By her side was her heavyset Red Hive bodyguard, Mandible, walking the Timberwolves they’d captured in the Macintosh Mountains.

Seeing Chrysalis signal, the Queen-in-Waiting started, and fluttered over.

“Papillate,” said Queen Chrysalis, “could you be a dear and show me what you’ve practiced?”

The little Queen-in-Waiting tilted her head, prior to nodding. Rapidly, the green flames enveloped her, reflected upon the beach’s sandy white. What re-emerged was an equine figure with a blocky muzzle, a striped mane and equally striped frame.

Chrysalis sighed. “No, not that,” she said, although the lecherous feelings radiating off her did not escape Pharynx. “The other one.”

The zebra’s face grinned sheepishly, whereupon Papillate let the flames of transformation engulf her anew. When Pharynx saw what she’d turned into this time, he momentarily thought his eyes were tricking him.

At Chrysalis’ request, a familiar lithe, blue dragonet stood before them.

“Good,” cooed Chrysalis. “You know what to do, my sweetling. Those two fools can’t yet have gone far. You ought to pick up their love-scents. Now to test how well you can emulate another creature’s love-scent.”

Papillate silently nodded again, but Pharynx’s ears had perked at the word ‘fools’.

As he saw the false blue dragonet set off, there was no question what his Queen’s game was. He hadn’t been able to hide from Chrysalis what his fight with the Dragon Princess, the one which had led into the official duel against the human, had been about. Far from being upset there, Chrysalis had found this amusing. Like him, she knew there was nothing so cock-eyed as a Changeling in love.

Worse, though. While the cretinous red drake who “guarded” the Dragon Princess might not even know it, he did have feelings for Ember as well.

Pharynx grimaced. Whatever prank Chrysalis wanted Papillate to play, there was no outcome where this ended well for Thorax. And although he was rough with his brother, Pharynx had never liked anyone else getting rough with Thorax. Even the Queen. He’d always sheltered his little brother from her wrath or cruel games when he could. But what could he do now, while Chrysalis had her eye on him?

‘Eyes…’ he thought. ‘That’s it!’

A bit further along the beach, Aphid still played with her silly little castles. But she must have heard everything. The girl hung onto the Queen’s every word, no matter how trivial. Sure enough, Pharynx saw her looking their way. Normally, he found her habit of miming instead of talking to be annoying – but for once, Pharynx felt thankful his self-appointed “adoptive sister” was an expert in non-verbal communication.

Concentrating, Pharynx focused his magic so only his eyes would transform, in a subtle flash, to mimic the red-pupilled eyes of the Dragon Princess, then Papillate’s yellow eyes. It startled poor Aphid, who took a step back. But she seemed to quickly get his drift, from her vigorous nod.

Aphid sauntered off to the Queen, happy as she could be. She shot Pharynx a glance. A little forehoof reached out to Chrysalis, and tapped her shoulder.

“Huh-what?” Chrysalis exclaimed, eyes darting around. “Oh, Aphid. Yes, what is it, dear? Need a new scoop?”

Aphid shook her head, pointing at her saddlebags, by Chrysalis’ sunlounger. Then mimed a glass. Or a bottle. Pharynx couldn’t tell.

“But… you know you’re short a year for drinking,” said Chrysalis. Her grin widened. “Who cares. Here, my little sweetbug.” The saddlebags were summoned to her. Chrysalis reached her purse. A few bits trickled into Aphid’s forehoof. “Go have a sip or two. But save some for Mother, will you? Wouldn’t want to get too tipsy, dear.”

So Aphid leaned forward and nuzzled Chrysalis, rubbing against her chin, still beaming. But when Pharynx’s eyes found Aphid’s, a wink followed.

* * * * *

Thorax had quickly picked up Princess Ember’s love-scent. When he’d sensed it stemmed from the same ruined fortress he’d been admiring at the beach, he’d felt a moment’s apprehension, realising there’d be crowds there. A crowd of Madame Heartstrings’ burgeoning expedition, beginning to file down the staircases to take a closer look at the freshly-arrived sky-turtles, which loomed imposingly over the town’s harbour.

But then he’d spotted that the Princess was perched a way away from the crowd, showing no inclination to go and join them. And now he wondered what he’d say to her.

His heart skipped a beat when Ember’s eyes found him.

“Hey!” she exclaimed. “Thorax!”

Good going. He’d got too close. She swooped down from her perch, landing perfectly on the grassy knoll with hardly a crack. Now or never. With hesitant steps, he approached her, until he was within reach.

“I…” he began. His voice faded.

“Yeah?” said Ember. “What’s up?”

Her brow was raised. But her stance was relaxed, her shoulders loose. Thorax steeled himself. His brother had told him much. What to do, and what to think. He had to keep promises.

“Princess Ember,” he said, his tone neutral. “Your bodyguard has been released.”

Ember blinked. “Uh-huh… right. So. Garble’s been released, I get you. She looked around, huffing. “Listen, um, I… remember the mess back at the Hall and… I just want to move from it, y’know? So, here. I think I’d want to play the guitar soon. You wanna come?”

Tempting. Why was it so hard? But Thorax knew his duty. What Pharynx expected from him.

“No… No, I don’t think I can,” said Thorax. His jaws, tight as they were, felt as if they should be loosened. He pressed on. “I’m just here… to tell you about Garble. Your bodyguard. Yes.”

“...O-okay,” Ember answered. Her shoulders fell, Thorax saw. Then she glared. “Fine. Guess I’ll go find him, then. Where is he?”

“Last I saw him, he was heading for the cliffs, I think…”

And that was that. Shaking her head, Ember beat her wings and went. Thorax stayed staring at her receding form long after. Sudden impulse then seized him. He couldn’t leave it at that. His wings began to buzz as he prepared to follow.

* * * * *

Freedom, at last. Hidden away in a dense patch of foliage atop the cliff, Garble finally allowed himself a breath of relief, clutching his care-package to his chest. Before tasting freedom, he’d thought he’d want nothing so much as revenge upon Chrysalis. Now he was finally out, he realized it felt just too sweet to be here, enjoying a moment’s peace. His wings, after being cramped in a cage for weeks, had ached terribly once he’d stretched them anew. But, oh, the bliss of getting to fly once more!

Wings… So much trouble in his life could trace back to when he’d molted, getting wings.

His relief fading, Garble set down his package, contemplating it. He wanted what was inside. Yet ever since he’d found this hobby, he’d suffered for it. Not all dragons rigidly followed the code that a molting dragon be kicked out of the family nest. His own parents likely wouldn’t have – if it hadn’t been the perfect excuse, after his un-dragonlike side came to light. Filthy hypocrites.

Garble had struck out on his own for years, and if he had tears to shed, he'd spent them long ago. Let his parents be Smolder's business. She'd got to stay home even once she'd sprouted wings, whereas he'd been kicked out because he refused to have his wings clipped, so to speak. Sometimes, he felt he may have resented her for this, weren't it for her unwavering support, when few others would offer it.

It wasn’t his fault the best role model he’d found out in the wild was a drake who’d let himself get shooed away by ponies. The only way the mockery could have been worse, was if dragons learned a pony had driven Razer to tears. Boy, how the old dragon had acted so on-his-knees towards him after that, telling him how sorry he was, how he’d changed his mind about his hundred-year nap and how Garble would be welcome back. Too little, too late.

Feeling his lip curl, Garble decided to finally get to what he wanted. He began to unwrap the package, retrieving one of the items Smolder had sent from the Dragonlands, which he treasured more than other dragons treasured their hoards

A pair of rock bongos. Despite everything, Garble now smiled crookedly at the sight.

* * * * *

Following the red drake’s love-scent, or any scent of his, hadn’t been tough for Papillate. With his cage in Queen Chrysalis’ bedroom, she’d spent enough time close by him to know it well. At first, his presence hadn’t helped Papillate’s anxiety any, despite Queen Chrysalis’ reassurances that a tarp pulled over the cage provided them sufficient privacy. With the sort of requests the Queen made every other night, it’d taken Papillate ages to dispel her discomfort. Eventually, however, the caged drake had just become part of the scenery.

But the Swarmarch had told her early on that, as the next step in her education, Papillate would one day be expected to test her charms on other subjects. That day was here.

In her disguise as the blue Dragon Princess, Papillate observed the drake from a safe distance, peering through a patch in the foliage. Queen Chrysalis hadn’t given her any easy beginner’s test. Dragons weren’t known as lovestruck creatures. Still, Papillate had seized her courage, and resolved to go in. Teenagers of any species were malleable like putty.

Yet this was the last thing she’d expected. The red drake in front of two stone drums, she thought was what they were. Tapping at them slowly, musically. It made her hesitate. And in her hesitation, Papillate sensed someone had snuck up on her in the foliage. With a surprised gasp, Papillate turned abruptly to face another Changeling. She saw it was a drone, a tiny thing, yet one she’d met before. One of the Ebony Hive, the silent yet energetic Aphid.

Cutting across her way, the little drone stood on her hindlegs, stretching out her forehooves in what Papillate discerned to be an attempt to hinder her.

Papillated looked at the drone. “I-I’ve got something to do. Please just… just step aside.”

Aphid shook her head. She tapped both her hooves on the ground. A flash of green fire, and a little orange dragonet stood where she’d been. The dragonet waved at Papillate, then sat down. She tapped at the ground, two rhythmic beats. Another flash, and little Aphid stood there. She mimed two items on the ground, then resumed the orange dragonet’s form, waving goodbye.

By the time Aphid pointed towards the red drake, understanding dawned. Papillate was getting a grasp for the little drone’s strange way of communicating. It helped that she remembered the sign Aphid had used to describe the formidable soldier, Pharynx, as her brother.

“... From the drake’s sister, huh?” But Papillate shook her head in turn. “I’m… I’m sorry. It’s the Swarmarch. She gave me a job to do.”

Whereupon she pushed past Aphid before the drone could stop her.

* * * * *

Garble was surprised, and displeased, to see a certain blue dragonet emerge into his hidey-hole.

“You?” He bared his teeth. At that moment, he couldn’t care that his bongos were in full view. “Fancy seeing you here, Princess.”

“Yeah?” Ember said slowly, sultrily. “Well, fancy seeing you here, Garble…”

He blinked. “Huh?”

Tittering, the blue dragonet stood upright, showily rubbing her face with one claw while the other rubbed her hips, in a demeanour that wouldn’t have been out-of-place against saxophone music in a Klugetown bar.

“Oh, I’ve been missing you all that time, didn’t you know?” said Ember, sashaying towards him, to place her claw beneath his muzzle. “How sorry I felt for you, stuck in that cage… A strong, handsome drake like you, all alone… But I can take care of you now…”

Her words, and her touch, did send signals along his scales pleasing to his teenage mind. Garble couldn’t deny that. It was why, for an instant, he wanted to believe it. Yet only an instant.

“Yeah, right,” he said flatly. “How dumb do you think I am?”

The blue dragonet stopped cold. “Pardon?”

Garble sighed. “There you go again… The real Princess don’t talk like that. You’re a Changeling, ain’t ya?”

She gasped in horror, which told him all he needed.

“Figures,” Garble muttered, standing. “Shoulda known the Roach Queen weren’t done with me… Well, don’t just stand there, fake, show yourself!

Whether out of fear or on instinct, his words had an effect on her. Abrubtly, the Changeling flames that were green, like the Chaoskämpfer’s but not proper dragonfire at all, took over ‘Ember’. And after that, she was replaced by a metal-green bee-thing, of diamond-marked chitin.

“Hey, I know you…” Garble started to growl, remembering his so-called vaccination by Chrysalis. “You’re the roach who brought that needle. It hurt like Tartarus. What’s your deal?”

Her lip trembled. “L-look, I got-gotta do this! The Queen will be very unhappy if I don’t have any love to bring back to her!”

“So?” Garble snorted. “What’s it to me, roach?” He rubbed the sore spot on his thigh, contemptuously. “Serves you right, far as I’m concerned. But you’re in luck, I can’t even be bothered scratching you for that. Get lost.”

He sat back down, ignoring her. The Changeling stood there, then, hanging her head, she prepared to fly off. As she raised herself, however, Garble gave her another look. She seemed rather lonely and sad.

“Hm…” Garble snapped his fingers. He’d just had an intriguing idea. “Wait. I know, you could…” But then he deflated. “Ah, forget it.”

She turned to stare back at him, confused. “Eh?”

Garble waved her off. “Nah, dumb idea. I was thinking, you could be my sister… ‘Cept you don’t know what she looks like.”

The Changeling’s brow creased in thought. Suddenly, the green flames surrounded her, and to Garble’s great surprise, there stood a perfect imitation of Smolder.

“How’d–”

“We all got our tricks,” she said wanly. Which sounded weird from Smolder.

He shook his head. “Never mind. You stay here. I’ll be right back.”

What he wanted to do didn’t require her not looking, Garble knew as he picked up his leftover care-package, retreating into a denser foliage patch bordering the cliffside. After all, she’d see him soon enough. But this still wasn’t really Smolder. He didn’t feel comfortable changing in front of her. Funny, given she was a Changeling.

Under safe cover, he reached in and pulled out what was left in the package. He’d missed these nearly as much as the bongos, but once he’d got them, without Smolder around, he hadn’t seen the point of putting them on. Actually, in her absence, he’d felt something missing to his beat. Perhaps, Garble hoped as he began pulling an arm through a sleeve, this’d make the difference.

When he returned, ‘Smolder’ was still there. She gazed at him, nonplussed.

Garble raised a claw. “Here’s the deal, ‘sis’. We sit together. I play, you listen. You do that, and we’ll both keep mum. You won’t tell you saw this, I won’t tell Chrysalis how you got love. We clear?”

‘Smolder’ nodded, thoughtful-looking. “You know… This is kinda like transforming yourself, too.”

“Bah,” Garble said as he sat by his bongos. “Just shut up and listen.”

So he began to play anew, in full attire.

And for a while, he could pretend it was just him there with his sister, nothing hanging over him, least of all other dragons’ judgement.

Or his mission from the Chaoskämpfer.

* * * * *

The first thing Ember noticed was Garble, sitting down, with two rock bongos. The second was a smaller orange dragonet, sitting with her legs pressed to her chest, watching Garble play in awe. The third, most distractingly, was that Garble had clothing on. A blue-and-white striped shirt, like a sailor’s, and a beret.

Then Garble, mid-beat, saw Ember, and his voice came out like he was strangled.

“Em-ber?”

Ember looked at him, up and down. “... What are you wearing?”

“I… uh, it’s nothing,” said Garble, hastily stuffing away his beret.

“Nothing?” Ember repeated. She gestured to all of him. “You look so… so wide! Where’d you get this stuff?”

She reached out to grab at his sleeve, but Garble snatched it back, rubbing at it as if her touch were contagious.

“Hey, careful!” he shouted. “It weren’t easy getting these here…”

Ember shot the little orange dragonet by his side a quick glance. “Yeah, sure,” she said, scoffing. “How do you explain her, then?”

The little dragon squeaked, turned into a Changeling and flew away. Initially feeling surprised, Ember then saw things become clear.

“Admit it, Garble,” she said, faintly amused. “You like to dress up.”

“Whu-?” Garble’s nostrils flared. “Hey, this isn’t a dress, this is authenticity!”

That threw Ember off. “How do you know that word?”

“How do you not?” retorted Garble. “Okay, so I keep this stuff secret. But I do have one person I share it with.” He gestured at Papillate. “Sure, I’m making do with what I got. Still, Smolder’s a real dragon. All you got is a roach.”

Ember stiffened. “What?”

“Oh, I was there, remember? When you were playin’ guitar. Or what, “ Garble leered at her, “don’t tell me you liked performing for roaches?”

“W-what? No! No it’s… it’s not the same. It’s…” She stiffened up. “It’s not like I cared about him, just like you cared ‘bout her over there, huh?”

* * * * *

And of course, in the foliage, two other Changelings overheard.

“But we’re friends…”

Aphid grabbed onto Thorax, shaking her head as she tugged him. She withdrew, and mimed.

‘Don’t be a doofus!’ read her signs. ‘You know she doesn’t mean it. She’s only saying those things because she’s a dragon, and wants to save face.’

Aphid rummaged through her saddlebags. In her aura, she held a bottle of water. It looked expensive, the price a good few bits. But Thorax pushed it away when she gave him puppy eyes and offered it to him.

“Does she?” Thorax whispered, in a cracked voice. “Well, that… that still doesn’t make this right.”

He left then, going where Papillate had gone, not hearing how the rest of the dragons’ argument was to unfold, nor caring.

Author's Note:

Spectrum 2.1 - Autumn 2021

VoxAdam:

• A chapter that was created from splitting the prior Chapter Twenty-Two (‘Unveiled’) into two chapters.
• In the scene of the PHL penal squad, Aegis reflects on his children.
• The scene of Princess Cadance talking with Alexander Reiner is expanded to touch upon her encounter with Verity Carter in Boston.
• Cadance is reminded of Sunset Shimmer when she meets Sunburst.

Comments

[Starcat5]

Poor, poor Thorax. 😿

[VoxAdam]

11290694

Thorax is made to suffer as the outlier of his Hive, in ways which the series didn't have space to show, so that it feels properly earned when depicting him in a happy moment.

I may be a little overly enamoured with the idea that the guy thought he was looking for a Princess Classic in his life, but his true love is an Amazon.