11. Tidings From the Crown
Nearly two weeks after the first days of their trades had come to a close, Sure Stroke was sitting at the table with her boyfriend and new housemates, enjoying a nice, leisurely breakfast together after the usual weekend lay in. The perfect way to begin a Saturday, in her humble opinion—sitting in her usual place, snuggled up to her loving boyfriend, while they chatted with an equally snuggly and affectionate Esalen and Toola.
Why, it could’ve been inspiration for one of her paintings! Even as Toola, the cheeky, giggly little thing, caught Esalen unaware and poked her nose with a hoof-full of whipped cream and strawberry she’d spread atop her pancakes. An act which, rather predictably, drew a sudden hiss, a squeak, and a mad dash in vain attempt to escape before the changeling tackled her lover a mere three steps from their shared seat.
Sure Stroke covered her mouth to stifle a laugh, she could feel Aspire’s shoulders shaking with mirth as he brought his smugling mug to his lips and watched Esalen loom over Toola, her eyes glowing and fangs bared in a wicked grin before descending upon her. Poor Toola could do little more than squeal and writhe as Esalen nuzzled her face, spreading whipped cream and syrup all over the pair of them.
“Great,” Aspire said with a snort, grinning at the squealing pair. “Now they’re going to get it all over the floor. We just cleaned that the other day.”
Her control broke. Sure Stroke snickered and gave his chest a playful smack. “Oh, hush! Let them have fun!” Grinning, she leaned up to whisper in his ear, “Worse, just think of how much they’ll regret it when they have to clean it off!”
His eyes wide, Aspire snorted into his tea and sputtered a moment, then jumped up hissing and frantically wiping hot liquid from his polished carapace, right across his thigh. “Dang it, Doodle!” he cried. “Not when I’m drinking tea, for love’s sake!”
Sure Stroke winced. “Sorry.” Her ears splaying, she took up her napkin and moved to help him dry off. “I didn’t mean it.”
Her boyfriend stood on his hind legs as she worked, laying a hoof upon her shoulder for balance. With a sigh, he gave a little squeeze for comfort. “It’s fine,” Aspire murmured. “I didn’t mean to snap. Just stung a bit.”
Yes, of course it did. He loved his tea hot, and, as she’d learned, changeling carapace protected them well from physical blows to a degree. Heat and cold, not so much. If anything, it was worse.
An accident, yes, but it hardly dulled the pain.
Sure Stroke nuzzled his side, giving a little hum as she finished drying him, and leaned up to kiss his chest. The little buzz of his wings in reply drew a tiny smile, and gave her the little push to look up and meet his gaze.
His sky blue eyes never failed to transfix her. Aspire leaned down to nuzzle her nose and peck it sweetly before he wrapped his hoof around her shoulders, laying his chin atop her head as he let himself fall back on three hooves again. A low, appreciative purr rumbled in the back of his throat. He kissed her forehead softly, murmuring his thanks.
The picturesque moment had been dashed by an accident, but she couldn’t complain with how it ended. Not as lovey-dovey, but just as sweet. And, really, there was some sort of natural verve to it, wasn’t there? Not many artists she’d seen depicted the little missteps and daily accidents. It was too mundane, or lacking in that romantic mood.
To her, it was another painting. Forgiveness. Besides, love didn’t run at happy-lovey-dovey all the time. Nor did friendship.
“I’ll try not to make you snort next time,” she muttered. Sure Stroke drew back, smiling sheepishly. “But it was a good one.”
“It was,” Aspire agreed, stealing a kiss from her lips. A wicked smirk spread across his features. “Hmmm, I think I should get to spill something on you now. I’d say syrup, but …”
Curious, she raised a brow. “But what?”
His smirk grew into a full grin. “Well, you’re already sweet enough. If I cleaned it off your nose the way I wanted, I might get a sugar rush!”
Rosy red spread across her face, to the very nape of her neck. Her feathers fluffing, she unfurled her wings and batted her hooves against his chest. “You jerk! You big, dumb, teasing, dummy-dumb, jerk!” she squeaked.
Aspire chittered and caught her hooves, pulling her back into a tight embrace. With another low purr, he drew in close and nuzzled about her ears, murmuring sweet nothings, crooning such delightful compliments in her ear she could do little but bury her face in his chest and hide herself beneath his wings.
Then a loud, metallic clanging cut through the peaceful morning air. All activity halted in an instant, the four jolted, their ears perked and eyes alert as they heard Clanger’s bell ringing out as clear as day. On a Saturday morning.
Sure Stroke’s eyes went wide. There were only two reasons for Clanger to ring his bell off schedule. Given there were no guards banging on doors, she could rule out an attack.
“An assembly?” Toola asked from beneath Esalen. “On a Saturday morning?”
Frowning, Esalen rolled off of her lover, offering a hoof to help her stand. “Must be a good reason.” She turned, her bright pink eyes found her brother. “Think it has anything to do with …”
He hummed, his smile slipped away, a concerned frown in its place. Aspire released Sure Stroke from his embrace and lit his horn, levitating everything off the table. “Not sure, but if I were to wager love, I’d say yes,” he replied. “Hawkeye and Merryweather were due back soon.” His eyes flitted to the pair, he gave a little toss of his head toward the door. “Go wash off as best you can. Doodle and I will get these.”
Grinning sheepishly, Esalen and Toola muttered their thanks and dashed off to take care of their shared mess.
As soon as their thudding hooves died off, Sure Stroke followed Aspire over to the sink, her ears drooping in worry. “What do you think they’ll have found in Canterlot?” she asked.
He shook his head. “I don’t know, honey. What happened was …” Aspire sighed and leaned into her, laying his cheek against hers. Softly, he whispered, “Right now, I think we can only hope they bring good news. What happened that day has only happened once. Ever.”
Her heart sank. Sure Stroke knew that just as well as he. All of Equestria remembered the stories.
She felt his hoof wrap around her shoulders again, pulling her in tight as he used his precious love-powered magic to clean the dishes.
Every pony knew.
They’d just hoped she was just a story.
Not a single soul in Respite dared to miss an assembly when Queen Euphoria called.
Not out of fear of physical punishment or verbal tirade in front of fellow villagers, mind. Rather, a sense of obligation and commitment to one another, and a general want to maintain safety. If one failed to listen and heed warnings, well, for a village in which half the population had to keep hidden lest they inspire fear and invite persecution, it could have dire consequences.
But today, the mood was different. The Caretakers and ponies of Respite gathered together, the air thick with anticipation and anxiety. A low murmur rippled through the crowd, members of both races wondered with one another what news had come from Canterlot. Villagers held their families close, and encircled their visitors, a silent sign that while they might not be family or live there permanently, they weren’t alone. They were protected.
All found sanctuary in Respite’s boundaries, whether from sickness, injury, mental ailment, or threats from outside.
Aspire, Esalen, Sure Stroke and Toola Roola stood together with their families, with Sleet and Snow Flurry and their little fillies not more than a hoof’s length away—unprompted, Sure Stroke was happy to note.
Warm Welcome took a moment to turn and offer a comforting smile to the pegasus family. “I’m sure everything’s fine,” he said softly. “If anything, Hawkeye will have made his report, and it’ll come out that there was nothing too serious.”
“Princess Celestia never fails to raise the sun!” Sleet hissed without heat. Her eyes flitted between Warm Welcome and Queen Euphoria’s house. “Not once in my life has the sun not risen when it was meant!”
“There’s always a first time for everything,” Aspire chipped in helpfully. “Who knows? She could’ve just been sick and needed to lay in a little.”
If she hadn’t known him for two years, Sure Stroke might have missed his tells. That little twitch at the corner of his mouth, the strain in his smile even as he tried to sell the notion to the fillies, a sweet lie to get them to relax their wings and breathe a little easier. Perhaps if not for that little moment shared in their kitchen, he might’ve even fooled her a little.
But he managed with them. The hesitant smiles which slowly spread across their little faces, her shoulders relaxing visibly.
He’s so good with little ones, Sure Stroke mused with a fond smile. Just like his father.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw movement. The front door to Queen Euphoria’s house opened, and out trotted Hawkeye, Merryweather, all the Queen’s entourage, and Queen Euphoria herself. On each of there faces, they wore frowns—not of sadness, as far as she could tell. Rather, they seemed almost contemplative.
Sure Stroke’s mind raced. What news could Hawkeye and Merryweather have brought back to earn such looks? The sun was up, so clearly things were well enough with Princess Celestia. Or was there something else?
Her mind went back to her talk with Aspire earlier that morning. There was only one time in history the sun had failed to raise when it was meant. That it happened again left little doubt in anyone’s mind who could be responsible.
Who else could wrest control of the very heavens from the Harbinger of Day?
Only then did Sure Stroke notice that Queen Euphoria’s horn was lit a verdant green. Curious, she let her eyes flit left and found a piece of parchment floating mere inches over her left shoulder. A gust of wind made the parchment flutter, giving her a look at the bottom left corner—specifically, at the mark of a golden sun glinting in the light.
The Royal Seal of Princess Celestia.
All conversation ground to a halt, everyone turned their full attention to Queen Euphoria as she stood atop her porch steps, her gaze sweeping out over the gathered crowd. She offered a small smile, forced and just a little crooked, telling of tiredness and just a hint of something else. Anxiety? Relief?
The little sigh she gave while letting her shoulders relax brought a sense of warmth to Sure Stroke’s chest. Relief. Tenseness being let out. That was good.
“Thank you all for gathering so quickly,” Queen Euphoria said, bowing her head to her villagers. “I do sincerely apologize for asking my dear Clanger to summon you from your homes at this hour on a weekend, but thanks our dear friends, Hawkeye and Merryweather, accepting the risk of leaving our village boundaries after our recent troubles—” she paused to offer a nod to the pair and allow a moment of polite rumbling applause, then gestured to the parchment floating near her shoulder “—we have at last received news from Canterlot.”
All around her, Sure Stroke saw heads perk up and ears stand tall. Changelings and ponies alike regarded their Queen with wide eyes, and apprehensive gazes. She, herself, felt her heart jump into her throat.
Queen Euphoria drew the parchment forward and glanced at it quickly, reading aloud, “From Madame Chaleur du Soleil, as dictated by Princess Celestia. On the eve of the Summer Sun Celebration, an incident occurred which saw an old prophecy I’d known to be due fulfilled. My sister, the mare formerly known as Nightmare Moon was freed from her thousand-year imprisonment within the moon.”
The instant the words left her lips, the crowd whipped back into a frenzy. Sure Stroke felt her blood run cold, her breath caught in her throat, even as Aspire wrapped a comforting hoof around her shoulders and pulled her in close, tight against his chest. All around her, the villagers seemed to drift closer, as if drawn by some unseen force to gather together for protection and security.
“Be at ease,” the Queen of Caretakers called, holding up a hoof. “There is more still. Madame Soleil writes that her highness was imprisoned, briefly, by her sister. However, through the actions of six young mares, one of which was the Princess’s student, Twilight Sparkle, the Elements of Harmony were found after a thousand years of dormancy, and used to defeat Nightmare Moon.”
Again, heads perked up. This time, that heavy, oppressive weight bearing down on the crowd lifted, evaporated into relief and just a hint of joy!
“So she’s gone?” Sleet called, voicing everyone’s thoughts. Voicing everyone’s hopes. “For good this time?”
Queen Euphoria shook her head. “Not quite—wait.” She held up a hoof to forestall any panic. “From what Her Majesty writes, Nightmare Moon is not the true face of her younger sister, nor her name. Rather, Nightmare Moon was the identity assumed by Princess Luna, Mistress of the Night, after jealousy and dark magics corrupted her heart. The Elements purified her of dark influences, and granted her clarity. She has since put forth formal apology for deeds past and recent, and surrendered herself to Princess Celestia for judgement.” With a little flick of magic, she rolled up the scroll, and said, “Princess Celestia has extended a hoof of forgiveness and offer for a second chance, one it would seem has been accepted. Therefore, some change will come as Princess Luna acclimates and takes on her old duties. However, we have Her Majesty’s every assurance that Canterlot and Respite remain, and shall remain, on good terms.”
Sure Stroke could feel her head spinning, her mind struggling to keep up with everything. So much to take in all at once! Nightmare Moon’s return? The Elements of Harmony? Six random mares finding it all and saving the day? And a brand new, but not really new, Princess to top it all?
Slowly, she brought a hoof to her forehead to try and stem the onsetting headache. Goodness gracious, what was the world coming to? And to think she thought things irreconcilable the day she walked through Respite’s wooden gate to find a village full of changelings was the big problem she’d face in her young life!
The return of Nightmare Moon—er, Luna, rather? Surely not.
And yet, here they were.
To her left, Esalen shook her head. “This is just insane,” she muttered, voicing quite a few villagers’ thoughts, if the nods were anything to go by. Turning, she fixed Aspire with a quizzical look. “Prophecies, Elements, and ancient princesses?”
Aspire offered a hesitant smile. “To be fair, we came from the Eternal Forest on Emerald Isle, from the Faerie Glen,” he reminded her. “And there are plenty of stories of the Fall of Night. And we know of there being two princesses who put the Dark King down after he cursed the Sainted Ones.”
“True enough. I guess … I don’t know.” Again, she shook her head, leaning over to brush her shoulder against Toola’s. “All’s well that ends well, I suppose.”
“Essy, shh!” Toola hissed, jabbing her side. Before her girlfriend could take offense, she gave a meaningful nod to the head of the crowd, back to Queen Euphoria.
Following her gaze, Sure Stroke perked her ears just in time to catch the last little bit of the Queen’s announcement.
“While the news is indeed favorable on the surface,” she said, “I would still stress caution and maintaining the security of our village, all of you, and our guests until I speak with Madame Soleil personally. It is with that in mind that I must ask you all to put any travel plans you’ve made or were considering on hold.” Queen Euphoria turned to bow her head to the pony guests and said, “I cannot command you all to stay against your will, but I would prefer it, for ease of mind. If you should decide to remain, you will, of course, enjoy our continued hospitality. Thank you all again for your time. If there are any questions, feel free to join us inside.”
Her piece said, the Queen of Caretakers turned and began to walk into her home, offering a soft nuzzle and brush of her shoulder against the flank of each of her entourage as she went. Before she entered, though, she paused to turn and address her faithful informants with a smile. “Hawkeye, Merry, dear, I think you’ve more than earned a rest. Sweet Treat?” she called.
“Yes, Your Highness?” Sweet Treat called back, pushing her way forward.
“Kindly see to it that our friends are well-fed. Anything they’d like, on my treat. My thanks to them for taking such a risk.”
With a bow, Sweet Treat gestured for the pair to follow her, a stern look upon her face when Hawkeye dared look as though he might like to voice protest. The baker mare trotted along with her nephews and Maple trailing in her wake, along with a most amused Vigil grinning and waggling her ears at her fellow changeling.
Aspire released Sure Stroke from his embrace with a little peck on the cheek, and stepped forward. “I’m going to see what their reasoning is,” he said before any could ask. “A bit curious as to what else they’re thinking might come out once Madame Soleil is able to give more details.”
“Smart move, son,” Faith praised. “Let us know what you hear?”
“Of course.” He turned to nuzzle Sure Stroke, pecking her nose once more. “I’ll be home in a bit.”
She smiled in return. “I’ll make you some tea when you get there. I expect details.”
“You’ll have them.” For a moment, he lingered, furrowing his brows. “Could you do me a favor?”
“Sure. What is it?”
“Send a letter to Enticier by fire and see how he’s doing, and how the mood is in Paradise. They’re not as close to Canterlot, so it might be a few days before they hear.” Thinking a moment, he added, “Depending on where their scouts were at the time.”
Sure Stroke nodded. “I’d be happy to. He’s probably dealing with a lot.”
“What if their fire paths are locked down?” Esalen asked. “You know how Grandpa used to tell me they shut off during initial days if there was worry of war, save for the one between each of the Queens.”
He drew in a deep breath through his nose and let it out in a heavy sigh. “In that case, we’ll either have to wait or see if we can convince Queen Euphoria to check on our behalf. For now, please check on him.” Aspire turned, though not before Sure Stroke saw worry flash across his face.
A pang shot through her chest. They hadn’t even thought of Enticier, or how worried he might be. Or how much might be put on him helping out with the resorts.
Sure Stroke hurried forward to nuzzle his cheek. “I’ll do that,” she whispered. “Would you like me to tell him anything else?”
“Tell him I said we’re okay and not to worry. And tell him not to lie when you ask if he’s okay.”
Her brows shot up. “And if he’s not?”
Her boyfriend lingered a moment longer, his ears flicking. “If he’s not,” Aspire said softly, “then he has his choice of coming here, meeting in Manehattan, or us going to him as soon as this blows over.”
Without another word or backward glance, Aspire trotted off to speak with Queen Euphoria.
One of the things Sure Stroke had to pick up during her time in Respite was the odd way changelings sent letters to their kin.
Post, to changelings, was a rather silly thing, a bit of an unfortunate necessity they put up with so they could keep in contact with their pony friends living outside the village. Or, well, in Enticier’s case, outside the Enchanters’ resorts. Their typical manner between one another, however, made such things entirely unnecessary.Unless, of course, they were trying to send to a changeling living among ponies. In which case, the post would have to suffice.
In Respite, within each changeling’s home, they were connected to the other hives by a bit of old magic they called fire paths. Contrary to what the name might suggest, they weren’t maintained by some ever-present fire burning in the fireplace, or an entire room devoted to some arcane fire pit surrounded by ancient sigils—much to Sure Stroke’s initial disappointment.
Stupid Aspire, building it up like some fancy thing. And stupid Esalen holding back her smile until she realized and smacked him over the head for it.
And stupid thirteen-year-old me believing him, she thought with a sheepish grin.
No, nothing quite so fancy. Instead, there was a little alcove, a nook, even, off to the side in the sitting room. Right next to the actual fireplace, funnily enough. To the untrained eye, it looked like some random little spot, a half-circular area which could have easily fitted a nice potted plant or something. Maybe stick the fire poker and such in there so it was out of the way, a mercy on an unobservant pony’s poor knees.
In truth, that was where the fire path was set. If one were to draw near and look directly into the wood, they would notice a pair of circles etched into the perimeter, with lettering of the Old Tongue clear in between.
“Old magic,” Aspire had told her after the joke had passed. “This is some of the oldest magic we have from the time spent in the Faerie Glen, back when the hives were one. It was even used to make defense better during our alliance with the Sainted Ones.” When he noticed her quizzical look, he’d grinned. “We have a few spells like that. Some can change how things around us look, some can send things to one another …”
She never forgot how his grin faltered or eyes flitted away.
“What?” she’d asked.
He shifted in place. “Or sending food to secluded places where we wouldn’t be disturbed while we fed.”
Sure Stroke banished those thoughts from her mind, striding through the sitting room and down the hall until she reached her own. Upon her neatly-organized desk—a result of two years of Aspire’s nagging, more than her own design—there were several ready quills and inkwells, alongside a neat little stack of papers. Her drawers, on the other hoof, were a complete catastrophe, and Aspire had long-since surrendered to the reality that he’d never win that particular battle.
With a little snicker at the look that always flashed across his face when he opened them up, she snatched a couple pages and quill and inkwell from the desk, then hurried back to the sitting room where Esalen and Toola awaited, both seated on the slime pod love seat.
She shoved the single pod seat until it was within easy reach of the coffee table and took her place, spreading everything out so she could draft a quick letter.
“What’re you thinking of sending him to start off?” Esalen asked.
“Just letting him know that we’re okay and we got news from Canterlot, and asking if he’s okay,” Sure Stroke replied as she dipped her quill in the inkwell.
“Good call.” After a beat, Esalen frowned and glanced down at her hind hooves. “Please include my best wishes as well.”
“And mine,” Toola added, leaning against her lover’s side to offer a comforting nuzzle.
Smiling, Sure Stroke nodded and turned her attention to her letter, and scribbling out a message:
Dear Enticier,
I’m sorry it’s taken so long for us to write to you, but as you might guess, things were a little hectic with Trade Day and the mishap the morning of the Summer Sun Celebration. We just received word from Canterlot about Nightmare Moon’s return. I’m not sure when you’ll get details, but evidently she was defeated and somehow is now her more … benevolent self again. Princess Luna, the second sister who put down the Dark King, if you know anything more about her. All I have is the part of that old mare’s tale about Nightmare Moon being jealous of Princess Celestia.
Everyone is okay here. Aspire and I are now living together with Esalen and Toola Roola, like we mentioned when you visited last summer. It was a bit of a scare when the sun didn’t come up, but, for the most part, everything is running smoothly.
Are you okay? Is everything okay in Paradise and the other resorts? Everyone has asked that I pass along their best wishes.
Aspire especially.
I hope you get a little free time to reply soon, but I understand if you’re busy with everything up north. Take care and please be well.
With love,
Sure Stroke
She gave the letter a quick once over to check for spelling mistakes or anything she missed. Sure Stroke hummed and chewed on her lip in thought. Aspire had mentioned that he wanted her to check and see if Enticier was okay, as she’d done, but to state that he wasn’t to lie. What’s more, he wanted his old friend face to face if all wasn’t well.
In Manehattan, Paradise, or here, she recalled. Despite the mood, she couldn’t help but allow herself a little smile. Those two really do love one another.
Sure Stroke shook the page to dry the ink, then folded it into thirds. “Ready to send,” she said aloud. “Do you mind, Essy?”
Esalen pecked Toola’s cheek, then hopped up and bounded over to the fire path. “Happy to do it. Letter, please,” she replied, holding out a hoof to accept the letter. Then, she deposited it into the fire path, lighting her horn a deep, verdant green.
Within the little nook, the circle and ruins lit up, matching her magic’s color. There was a sudden rush of wind, then whooshing sound as green fire sparked to life around the ring and encircled the letter like a cyclone, and closed in, devouring the folded paper in seconds! The fire seemed to melt out of existence, dying to a few lingering emerald flickers, with no trace of ash or crumbled remains.
The letter was gone, on its way to Paradise.
“Well,” Sure Stroke said, flopping into her pod seat with a little bounce and smile. “That takes care of that. Hopefully, he sees it soon and can—”
No sooner did she begin to speak did the fire path light up again, casting the room in its emerald glow. There was another rush of flames and wind, the cyclone of fire swirled and spat out a rolled up scroll of parchment.
He’d already replied.
Grinning, Esalen plucked the scroll from the fire path and tossed it to her. “Well, seems that didn’t take too long at all!” She waggled her ears and leaned up against the wall. “What’s it say, Doodle?”
“Patience, nosy-ling!” Sure Stroke teased as she took hold of the scroll, noting the fine emblem of a heart set within a tongue of flame—his personal mark, a fitting nod to one of his name’s meanings. She unrolled it carefully, biting her lip at what she might find he’d written.
What she saw before her wasn’t the neat, flowing writing she’d been accustomed to when exchanging letters with the charming young prince. Instead, his writing was jerky, rushed. Almost sloppy, like he’d either not been sleeping or he’d quickly scribbled it all down in between doing ten or twenty other things.
Dear Sure Stroke,
Thank Morrigan you’re all safe. I’m so sorry that I’ve not written either. Things have been just as hectic at the resorts as you and everyone worried, I’m afraid. An unfortunate side effect of our guests being charmed to speak their deepest desires and let no shame or awkwardness come between expressing their feelings with us has … well, there is another side to our hive you’ve only really glimpsed.
We love them dearly. We protect them and try to take care of their hearts, similar to our cousins in Respite, in a way. But this … this is something we were ill-prepared to handle. This is something I’m not sure if any are prepared to handle. We’ve done our best to calm them and hold them close, and hearing from our own informants did ease the burden, but my mother is anxious about this new princess. It’s been a thousand years since our kind had dealings with her and hers, not all were pleasant. Nor were they all poor.
Time will tell.
I am well enough. Tired. Stressed. But relieved to receive your letter. Relieved to hear you’re all well. And, selfishly, gratified that you’d think of me.
Tell them that I wish them all well, and pass my (Sure Stroke took note of a hasty scratch out mark blotting out a word) wishes to Aspire. He’s sweet to worry for me. Give him a hug on my behalf, if you don’t mind.
L(Another blot in the middle of the letter, drawing a confused frown) Sincerely,
Enticier
No fancy titles or branding words, a small relief. He didn’t even try to slip in a bit of wordplay.
But there were those little scratch outs, like a foal making a mistake.
Enticier was normally so proper and neat when he sent letters. Why, his writing was almost artistry in itself! Even Aspire confessed his envy!
Was he lying as Aspire worried?
A cold claw touched her chest, just near her heart. Her brows furrowed, Sure Stroke passed his letter to Esalen so she might read it aloud for Toola, and took up her quill again. Her tail swished and feathers twitched in agitation. Something was off. She didn’t like off.
The young mare hastily scribbled out a new letter for Esalen to send.
Enticier,
Are you sure you’re okay? Your writing is a mess. Like you’re scribbling against a wall.
Sure Stroke
She rolled the letter up, bound it with Enticier’s fancy silver fastening, and passed it to Esalen again, who glanced it over and gave a little snort, but didn’t smile. She’d noticed too. In seconds, the spell was cast, and the reply sent through the fire path bound for Paradise.
Sure Stroke began to tap her hoof against the edge of the pod seat. What was wrong with him? It wasn’t like him at all to let anything be out of sorts, or to sound so choppy in writing. By Celestia, the only times she’d ever seen him looking anything but the picture of regality, teasing and slight awkwardness during their reunion aside, were the night she turned him down and the time he’d taken a tumble out of a fishing boat into the lake.
Something wasn’t right.
Another flash of emerald flame drew her out of her thoughts, she looked up just in time to catch another scroll. Sure Stroke undid the fasten as quick as a flash and unrolled it to read. Once again, the same jerky, sloppy writing greeted her eyes.
Sure Stroke,
I’m sorry about that. It’s just been very hectic here, and I’ve been running around a lot. Between ponies and my kin, I’m … I’m doing my best to juggle everyone and keep everyone’s spirits up. Mom was in tears the other night. Tears of absolute stress and fury because this isn’t something she could simply rend apart with her fangs to ease my—forgive the term, it’s odd, but it’s the closest thing we have in modern Equish to their relationship—sister-mothers’ pain. Dad has been trying his best to keep her together, but even he’s struggling.
They’re complaining about something in their dreams now. A pair of eyes, watching them. A lonely mare, curious and asking questions in an old tongue.
I don’t mean to worry you, I promise. I’m frazzled, but okay. I’m fine.
(Here, Sure Stroke frowned again as a large section was furiously scribbled out. An entire line, save for two letters)es.
Speaking of your trades, how are they going? Has your art therapy gone well? Your book? I hope I don’t sound impetuous, but I do look forward to reading it soon. Perhaps you’ll send me a copy? Name your price (Another blotch made her heart sink into the grip of that icy claw) and I’ll gladly pay it.
Sincerely,
Enticier
She looked back over his letter again, biting her lip. No, it wasn’t quite the same writing. It was worse. Messier. More erratic.
Was he in the middle of dealing with something as she sent them? Or was he panicking?
To that end, what was it he kept scribbling out?
With a frustrated grumble, Sure Stroke rose and hurried to snatch another pair of pages from her room, then returned to jot down another reply.
Enticier,
Please don’t lie to Aspire and me. Are you okay? Is there anything we can do to help?
With love,
Sure Stroke
She made as though to roll up her reply, but stopped short, remembering Aspire’s words.
“If he’s not, then he has his choice of coming here, meeting in Manehattan, or us going to him as soon as this blows over.”
He wasn’t. If Aspire were here, he’d have snatched the letter away the instant he noticed something amiss and demanded Enticier tell or agree to meet.
Perhaps it was time to give a bit of Commander Hurricane’s famed percussive therapy. Long distance.
P.S. You once told me you wanted there to be no boundaries between us speaking and how we felt, and I told you I wasn’t comfortable with that coming from your charm. Now, I’m asking you the same. Aspire is worried. He wanted me to tell you to be forward and let us know.
If not, he wants to see you. He wants to see his friend. Whether it means we meet in Manehattan, you visit us here, or—
Her heart skipped a beat. Could she?
Sure Stroke beat that little voice back. She befriended changelings and fell for the one who scared her so in the middle of the forest. Of course she could say it to a friend.
—or Paradise. I want to see you.
She shook the page to help dry out the ink before rolling and binding it with his fasten again, then tossed it over to Esalen. Her friend caught it with barely a look, then deposited it into the fire path where she cast the spell and sent it off to Paradise in another rush of emerald flames.
This time, his reply didn’t come so quickly. Sure Stroke sat with Esalen and Toola in muted silence, the mares watching with wide eyes while Esalen waited by the fire path, then began pacing, her lips tugging into a tiny frown and sugar pink tail flicking.
The atmosphere in their little home was thick with anxiety. Waiting for a reply after he’d been so quick just made it worse, so much so. And more difficult to do anything but analyze it to Pegasopolis and back!
He’s busy and trying to juggle everything, Sure Stroke reminded herself. His parents, all the guests at his resort, all the Enchanters worried about their lovers and friends, and his own worries.
The timing his reply came was almost too perfect. The first tongues of emerald flame began to swirl did Sure Stroke hear the door latch clicked open, and she turned over her shoulder to see her beloved Aspire poke his messy blue-maned head inside. He pushed it closed with a nudge of his hind hoof, his mouth open with a greeting on the tip of his tongue.
Then his eyes raised and saw the dying glow of the fire path. His jaw clicked shut, all focus went to the scroll resting in the center.
She saw his throat muscles work as he swallowed. Aspire approached slowly, his lips parted like he wanted so dearly to flick his tongue, but didn’t.
“Is that the first?” he asked softly. At a shake of Toola’s head, he bit his lip. “How is he?”
Slowly, Sure Stroke turned to look to Esalen. Her friend already had the scroll in hoof, her bright pink eyes dim as they flitted between the pair.
The scroll laid open in her hoof. Esalen’s eyes fell upon the message again, her face contorted into a worried grimace. “I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I’m not okay. I’m trying so hard for them. For mom. But I’m not.”
Sure Stroke felt that icy claw grip her heart. Her very throat was tight and raw.
Aspire crossed the room in an instant, his strides long and powerful. He held his hoof out for Sure Stroke’s quill. Once she passed it over, he dipped it in ink and spoke aloud, “Queen Euphoria says two weeks. In two weeks, we’re meeting him again.” He paused to glance up at Esalen and Toola. “Would you two like to come?”
“Any other time I’d say you have to charm me to stop me,” Toola replied, all traces of laughter gone from her face. “But I think he needs to see you two first.”
“Likewise,” Esalen agreed. She offered a small, pained smile. “Give him my love.”
Nodding once, he turned his attention to his reply. Across the face of the page, in letters almost two lines tall, he wrote in clear, precise print:
Enticier,
Manehattan. Two weeks. Pick a hotel.
If you skip out, Sure Stroke and I are continuing north until we hit your doorstep. Essy and Toola send their love.
Aspire.
With a flick of his magic, Aspire cast his letter into the fire path and sent it on its way. Then, with a heavy sigh, he let himself fall down into the pod seat beside Sure Stroke and covered his face with a hoof. His other trembled as he reached out, seeking hers.
What else could she do but take hold and lean in to nuzzle his cheek? “He’ll be okay,” she whispered. “We’ll see him in two weeks, and he’ll be okay.”
His grip tightened. “I know,” Aspire murmured. With another sigh, he shifted and rolled over to bury his face in her chest, his warm breath tickled her coat. He wrapped his hooves tight around her midsection, his voice muffled as he added, “I just wish we weren’t so far away right now.”
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God I love these characters. Enticier is having a very rough time, good to see his friends aren't willing to let that go.
Oh dear, Luna's already on the trail of the Enchanters? Yeah, that would cause quite a bit of stress, especially when they have little to no clue about Luna or her abilities.
Weeew. Really cranking up the intensity, aren't you?
Wow... I forgot about the Enchanters. Poor Enticier. He sounds so stressed. Doesn't seem like anything like this has happened with his Hive before. Where their own charms are working against them.
So if green fire is fae magic, is Spike a Faerie Dragon?
I really like how Luna comes back and immediately picks up on the Enchanter’s shenanigans. It’s always nice to see a story with appropriately powerful princesses. Now I’m curious what tricks the Locust tribe is able to pull to avoid that kind of surveillance long enough to be able to pull off the canterlot invasion.
That would track with legends of faerie rings spiriting unwary wanderers away without a trace...
Well. Off to the resort! Here's to seeing what it's like there
I really feel for your characters when you write them so beautifully. I feel their love for each other, their want for protection for each other, and the despair and anxiety that comes with it when that protection is in question. Just love it all. I hope Enticier gets a big bear hug from smugling and doodle soon.
This new chapter felt very tense, almost as if I could feel my muscles tensing and my heart rate increasing just from reading it. Hopefully things will speed up a bit from this point onward.
So...I may be missing something, but why is it so much worse at the Enchanters' hive? Because all the glamour and love spells and truthiness on their 'pets' is bringing out their truest, most terrified emotions in the aftermath of the longest night and the changelings are having trouble dealing with it and Luna poking into their dreams?
9832895
Well it's more likely that the Enchanters have their partners in a sort of waking sleep, daydreams, and enchantments blended together to the point where they still have free will and can dream at night, all be it a bit oddly (mind magic on that level has consequences), and the Locust just put food in comas, and drink them dry like that.
Luna can't check in on dreaming ponies, if they're in a dreamless coma.
Plus I imagine Changelings don't dream the same way as ponies do so Luna can't directly check on them.
But that's just a theory, a fimfic theory.
Carapace, do you have any plans to link the Respite and Thorax stories together at some point? I mean, I know they're sort of linked, but there is as yet, no actual crossover.