> Somber Ties
>  by Mobytums
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Final Will and Testament
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The gathering of a council of lords was not a common occurrence. Managing to iron out their extreme dislike of one another long enough to have them seated civilly? Even less so. Especially when said lords presided over the regions under the flag of the recently freed Crystal Empire.

Princess Cadance sat in a chair that must have, at one point, served as one of Sombra’s torture devices. They’d had to remove far too many of those when they’d moved into the palace. As much as she wished to shift and get more comfortable, she dared not move an inch under the steely gazes of the present lords and ladies.

She wished again that Shining could have been present with her for this as well, but as Prince-Consort he technically had no place here and the nobles would have likely taken offense to his presence. He was forced into keeping the guard’s attention on protecting the arriving nobles and their carriages, and would no doubt be standing watch outside the room himself.

Repressing a sigh, she kept her eyes locked on the closed double doors across the room and waited. She couldn’t blame them for their cold attitudes, after all not even a year had passed since the emancipation of the crystal ponies from under the iron hoof of Sombra. 

A few of the previous nobles had even been supporters of Sombra’s and had to be impeached with help from the crystal ponies in their jurisdiction. Their replacements, taken from their own family lines, had been more supportive of new rule but were hardly more trusting of their new rulers than their predecessors.

Among those ‘newer’ nobles were those of House Crux, whom just so happened to be the reason for calling this meeting in the first place. The previous heads of the household, Lord and Lady Crux, had passed away not two weeks ago, leaving behind their only son, a young stallion by the name of Jet, as the heir apparent to the Slate Ridge region of the Crystal Mountains. The young lord was also the reason Cadance was watching the doors; he was late.

She smothered another sigh.

The creaking of the old oaken doors and the stomping of iron-shod hooves shook her out of her inner thoughts as one of Shining’s palace guards stepped inside and bowed. “Presenting the new lord of Slateridge, Lord Jet Crux, Your Highness.”

Cadance caught herself before her eyes could widen in surprise. A stallion swept past the bowing guard and into the room. Dressed in a sharply cut black cloak that hid his cutie mark and with his mane tied back in a ponytail with black ribbon, he was obviously still in mourning; but that wasn’t what surprised her. 

His horn was the first thing to catch her eye. It extended above his brow unfluted, unlike most unicorns, and about halfway up, natural bone ended and was replaced with a sharp, pointed cap of an opaque green stone. His coat and mane were slate gray and black respectively and he had piercing, restless emerald green eyes that lay deeply in sockets with dark circles underneath them, as though he had not slept in days.

Change the iris and horn color to red and he’d be a younger Sombra’s spitting image. 

Cadance opened her mouth to speak before she was cut off by one of the waiting ladies. “Ah, young Crux, so good of you to finally join us. Taking time out of your schedule to humor our request for a gathering wasn’t too much of a bother, I hope?” The mare speaking,a fair, tan coated pony with a blond mane and eyes the color of honey named Amber Torc, Cadance remembered, gave a wry twist of her mouth as she finished.

Jet slowly trotted to his seat as he answered, not bothering to turn his head to face her as he did so. “ No more of a problem than such calls have always been, Lady Amber. I didn’t really expect the Lords and Ladies to allow me the customary month to grieve anyway.”

Cadance flinched slightly at the bitter tone of his voice as she watched him seat himself, clasping his hooves over the table before finally casting his gaze onto Amber. Amber’s brow furrowed and she leaned forward slightly, mouth open to retort.

“And we beg your forgiveness, young Crux,” a deep baritone voice interrupted Amber’s speech before it could begin. “We are merely concerned with the nature of your parents’ passing, and wished to clarify such things amongst ourselves before rumor could do as rumor is wont and spread like wildfire.” 

Lord Godric’s brown eyes met the young stallion’s across the table with a sympathetic glint, the creases in the ruddy orange coat of his muzzle revealing his distress. His wife next to him offered an apologetic frown. Slowly, the hardness in Jet’s eyes softened and he gave a shallow nod.

Cadance cleared her throat to gain the attention of the group and looked down the table at Jet. “ If I may begin this meeting," she looked around the table at the agreeable nods “The lords and ladies gathered here expressed a concern that your parents did not...pass naturally. They all wish—”

“Did you do away with your parents for your own ascension, Crux?”

Cadance grimaced at the questioning words of the lord to her right, Jasper, a somewhat portly grey stallion with a silver mane and tail, froze the room in a quiet, nervous aura.

Crux’s emerald eyes seemed to burn with intensity in their sockets as he scowled at Jasper. “Are you accusing me of murder, Lord Jasper?” His voice was barely above a whisper. A soft cover for restrained anger and hostility.

Lord Godric rapped his hoof on the table and glared at Jasper. “Lord Jasper, this is not the place for accusation. We are here at this table to put such rumor and conjecture to rest where it belongs, not throw mud on the name of our newest peer.” His wife frowned at Jasper with disapproval.

Jasper turned his heavy-lidded, scarlet gaze on Godric. “I am not sure if we should consider it mere rumor, Lord Godric. After all, his mother passes away two weeks ago of unknown causes and his father follows in her hoofsteps not a week later. Anyone would be suspicious.” He ignored the piercing green gaze as he stared boredly at Godric.

“I agree,“ all eyes turned to Amber Torc as she frowned at Jasper. “Needlessly blunt though he may have been, I find he has a point Godric. It is most unusual for such a thing to occur, especially given how healthy they seemed when last we saw them at the winter summit.” She turned her eyes onto Jet as she finished her statement, their gazes locked in mutual dislike.

The room erupted into heated arguments. Godric and his wife lashing out at Jasper who kept his habitually bored expression throughout his responses. Other lords and ladies soon joined one side or the other when it came to supporting or disregarding the claim. Jet and Amber both said nothing, choosing instead to stare at each other with scowls on their faces.

Cadance’s horn lit up with a light blue glow as her magic compressed a ball of air to the size of a marble and released it just as quickly, resulting in a loud crack and gust of wind that echoed through the room, silencing the rabble and giving her their attention.

“I believe that is more than enough of that. We should all be proper about this and ask Lord Crux for his account of the deaths of his parents and make our decisions then. I should not have to remind you that the report from the morticians who examined the lord and lady Crux found no wounds, nor traces of chemicals or poisons in their systems.”

The Princess looked toward the stallion in question for his opinion and received a slow nod. “Then please, Lord Crux, tell us what you know.”

Every head turned to the young lord as he drew a deep breath. “The previous month my mother was struck with some sort of wasting illness. We called several doctors to the house, yet none of them found any physical signs of infirmity. They could only assume from her inability to use magic, that it was bleeding from her body faster than she could regain it.”

Jet sighed through his nose, his ear giving an irritated flick as he stared holes through the table. “She lasted almost a month before passing in her sleep two weeks ago. When she was discovered, father...was beside himself.” 

He paused in his tale for a moment, as though thinking. Taking his silence as being overwhelmed by emotion,  Lady Godric stretched a hoof across the table toward him, sympathy plain in her face “Take your time, Lord Crux, there is no rush.”

He looked up at her, smiling crookedly. “I appreciate the concern, madam, but I can assure you, I am in no hurry to ‘dig up’  my parents again, so to speak. After all, I just finished burying them.” 

Lady Godric blinked in surprise at his black humor and retracted her hoof, stunned into silence.

Cadance’s ears turned back in distaste, he spoke so candidly about the death of his parents, he was acting as if he found it more of an annoyance than anything else.

Turning his eyes up to Cadance, he began again. “Father had already been neglecting himself in favour of caring for mother.”

“When she died it was as if he’d...given up. He devoted all of his time to being alone in his study, leaving most of the affairs of the house to me. Varnish, our head maid, had taken it upon herself to attempt to bring him meals when he began to be absent at the table for dinner.” 

Cadance gave a small, sad smile at the thought. “He couldn’t go on without her.”

Jet nodded. “He’d been found about a week later, barricaded in his study. I had to have the groundskeeper assist me in breaking the door down to gain access to his room. A shame that… it was a nice door. Old hoof-carved oak and everything.” He shook his head sadly.

“Once we’d had the body taken, we found two letters on the table. The first was his will, claiming me as his heir to the house and leaving me with the affairs of the region.” 

He tilted his head to the side curiously. “The second was a letter, sealed and addressed to you, your highness.”

Cadance’s ears turned forward and her eyes widened as a letter from underneath Jet’s cloak flew into the air wrapped in a smoky green aura. She took the letter in her own magic looking at her name scrawled on the parchment in shaky hornwriting. 

“That is the second reason I am here today.”

Cadance look up from the letter and found Crux staring at it intently.

“My father was most definitely a more social pony than myself or my mother, but he rarely spoke with you aside from these meetings, your highness. He acted, at times, like an idiot but he never did anything without reason. I would speak with you after this meeting about its contents.”

The princess nodded slowly as the other lords looked at the letter with either curiosity or suspicion.

“Of course, Lord Crux. I’ll be having dinner after this with my husband, and you’re welcome to join us.”

Jet nodded, satisfied and turned to answer Lord Godric as said lord asked after his health, which was just fine, thank you for asking. Cadance sat alternating between staring at the letter and stealing glances at Jet as he spoke with the other nobles.

Not only did he possess more than a passing resemblance to Sombra, but his father writes mysterious notes on what amounts to his deathbed for the princess herself. 

She looked back down at the letter, chewing on the inside of her lip absentmindedly. 


[ hr ]


Cadance poked at her food awkwardly, the silence at the table making it hard to enjoy her salad. Shining Armor barely paid attention to his food, eating mechanically while staring at Crux with a mixture of curiosity and shock.

Crux sipped calmly from a glass of water, leaving his bowl of soup untouched. He set the glass down and looked up at the princess. “Does the prince make a habit of staring down his dinner guests?” 

Shining flinched in surprise as Cadance chuckled nervously. “No, he’s usually better trained than this.” She shot Shining a glare over the rim of her wine glass.

“Oh...uh, sorry Lord Crux, it’s just that you...surprised me. I wasn’t expecting—”

“Someone who looks remarkably like the late dictator King Sombra to waltz into the dining room and have dinner with you and your wife without hissing something about crystals and trying to vaporize you?” He smirked, a brow slowly inching upward.

The royal couple’s mouths hung slack for an instant before Shining Armor burst into laughter.

Cadance’s face slowly broke into a grin as she answered for her husband who was holding a hoof over his face and shaking with laughter. “ Um, yes. Something like that. I must admit Lord Crux, I’ve never seen you before today and I was more than a little surprised at your, um...appearance.”

The young lord nodded. “That’s not too surprising. I typically remained behind in Slateridge to run the estate while father and mother were the ones to come to these types of meetings, so this would be the first time we have had the pleasure of making one another's acquaintance. And, if I may be honest princess, don’t worry about your reactions. Maker knows you’re not the first to have them.” He gave a long-suffering sigh.

Shining, meanwhile, had recovered enough to voice his own concerns. “Why does your horn look like that? It’s not exactly common, is it.” 

Crux chuckled as Cadance slugged her husband in the shoulder with a frown. “Shining Armor! Don’t be rude.” Shining shrugged at her and raised a brow at the stallion, seeking an answer.

Crux’s chuckles subsided, but a small smirk remained. “Believe me, Your Highness, it is no problem. It was an honest question. And to lay your curiosity to rest, Prince Armor, my horn is a genetic trait passed down among the stallions on my mother’s side of the family.”

Shining’s brow rose and he 'hmmed' contemplatively as he took a sip of his wine. Cadance’s ears flicked forward in curiosity. “So that means your family must carry the same horn trait as Sombra’s.”

“Well yes, they would be related.” Crux smirked.

Cadance tapped her chin in thought. “Perhaps a common ancestor’s line split off to become your mother’s house and Sombra’s.” She cocked her head to the side inquisitively.

“Actually they were the same. I’m Sombra’s nephew. My mother, Sable Crux, was his sister.”

The rest of Shining’s wine never reached its intended destination, doomed instead to the fate of a red mist sprayed across the table as Shining armor coughed and spluttered.

Cadance stared at him in shock while Shining pounded on his chest with a hoof, trying to clear his lungs of rich Canterlot merlot. Sombra’s nephew sat laughing loudly in his chair.

“Hah! Faust as my witness, it never gets any less amusing to watch a pony’s reaction whenever they learn that, no matter how many times I see it.”

Cadance performed an impressive mimicry of a fish while Shining struggled to get his breathing under control, coughing and wheezing. “Y-You’re—”

“Sombra’s nephew who, now that my parents have passed, is also the uncontested lord of Slateridge: one of the largest and most profitable regions in your empire? Yes.” He smiled evilly.

“B-but that’s impossible! Why would somepony marry into Sombra’s family?” Cadance stared at her empty hooves as though they should have held physical evidence to support her claim, but they remained devastatingly empty.

“I believe it was more her marrying into our family, but that’s a question that my father is no longer capable of answering. Needless to say, I’m certainly proof it happened.” Crux flashed his crooked grin.

“But, why tell us this? You do realize this puts us in a bad position if we let Sombra’s nephew run one of our regions.” Shining coughed quietly as he raised an incredulous brow.

Crux shrugged. “My parents told me that I should keep my mother’s family a secret that I shared with no one but my closest friends. They’re both gone now, so they can’t suffer the repercussions of this secret being known, and I felt that if I told anyone it should be my new rulers. I never did like keeping secrets that much anyway.”

The couple raised a brow in unison.

“Consider it an act of trust.” He smiled toothily.

Shining stared, stunned, with his mouth agape while Cadance rubbed her temples with her hooves. “This is...a bit much,” she muttered. “What am I supposed to do about this?”

“Well, if you want my opinion I’d say we finish dinner, you read that letter and we discover my father’s final words, you and Prince Armor relax with a nice cognac and I go home to sleep for the first time in four days.”

Cadance blinked incredulously. 

“Just a suggestion.”

She let out an explosive half-sigh, half-groan and dropped her face into her hooves. “Does anypony else know about this?”

“You two, the Slateridge house servants, and Lord Godric and his wife. Family friends, you see. As far as anypony else knows, I just share a rather unsettling resemblance.” He frowned momentarily, staring off at some point behind her. "You wouldn't believe how often that fact has come back to bite me in recent weeks."

Cadance nodded in relief and rubbed her forehead.

“Alright, we won’t tell anypony and you can continue as you’ve been doing.”

Shining Armor’s neck snapped around as he turned to his wife. “What, seriously? We’re gonna drop this just like that?” Jet’s brow also creeped up in surprise.

“Well, I’m not sure what else we can do. We could tell the empire that Sombra’s nephew was the lord of Slateridge and have him removed but then we could be blamed for never looking into his family before now. We could not tell anypony the relation and have him removed but then we’d be put under questioning as to why we deposed a new lord for no reason.”

“We could have him beheaded or imprisoned,” she waved a hoof through the air. “But killing or incarcerating a pony that’s done nothing wrong doesn’t sit right with me.”

“I’m glad to know you have your reasons for not deposing or decapitating me.” Jet laughed.

Cadance nodded primly. “Also, that cognac idea sounds lovely and I’d like to hurry up and have one at this point.”

Shining nodded slowly as he absorbed her words. “Yeah...cognac.”

“I suppose that means we move on to reading that letter then, hmm?”

In answer, Cadance levitated the thick letter from the tray next to her dinner and took a small breath before cracking the black wax seal. Out tumbled a shakily hornwritten note and a much thicker sheaf of papers that looked like...forms.

Setting those aside for the moment she began reading…

Your Royal Highness, Princess Mi Amore Cadenza,

By the time you receive this letter, I will have departed to join my lovely wife. I have left this letter in the hands of my only son, Jet Crux. No doubt, even as you read this he’s imposing on you to let him know what I’ve written—

Cadance glanced up from the letter to see Crux staring intently at the parchment. She gave a small smile as she looked back down.

but he means well. He always was so set on knowing everything I did, preferring to study everything there was to know about running this estate over socialising and making friends his own age.

I’ll be frank, Your Highness.

I don’t think he’s ready. Even as I write this, he’s barely been a fully grown stallion for two years, and he hasn’t gotten the chance to live a fulfilling life. He shouldn’t have to give up the prime of his youth for a boring, paperwork filled existence. I think on that, at least, we can both agree.

An unladylike snort distracted both stallions as Cadance’s lips curled into a smirk.

Unfortunately, he’s my only heir and it is his birthright and duty. There is no one else who can do what he can, though that is for reasons unknown to both him and yourself as of yet.

But just because he has to take my place doesn’t mean a father can’t meddle just a little, right?

Enclosed with this letter is a set of adoption papers. Before my wife came down with her illness, we were intent on adopting the foal of old friends of ours, they passed away shortly after the return of our empire from Sombra’s curse. It took us some time to track the little filly down, but we finally found her in an orphanage within your city walls. 

All the paperwork has been filled out, copied, finalized, copied again and spritzed with just a hint of rose, as is standard procedure.

It is my sincerest hope that taking care of this filly will help him grow as a pony. After all, I know from personal experience that nothing can change who you are like a foal that depends on you.

Speaking of foals. Tell mine I love him for me, would you? 

I truly hate to leave him like this with no final words from me in person, but I believe he will understand. It’s only been five days since Sable passed but I can’t go on any longer. Being the alicorn of love, I’m sure you understand what I’m saying.

Thank you for humoring this crazy stallion with your time.

Sincerely,

Lord Aurol Crux


Cadance looked up from the letter with a sad smile on her face. “He seemed like a good father,” she said, glancing over at him. “Was he always trying to lighten up a conversation with jokes?”

Crux snorted, a crooked grin spreading across his features and brightening his eyes for just a second. “Always…”

She nodded and set the note down on the tray, picking up the forms for what she now knew were adoption papers. Rifling through the first few she gave them a quick scan.

Humming thoughtfully to herself, she tapped them on the table a few times to order them, set them back on the tray and passed the note to Crux.

Grasping the letter in his smokey green aura, the lord’s eyes scanned the letter slowly and methodically, top to bottom. His face flew the gamut of expressions from annoyed to incredulous, and finally to solemn.

He slowly lowered the letter, his eyes staring blankly into space before glancing again at the letter and then up to the adoption papers to Cadance’s right.

“May I see those, Your Highness?”

The forms were soon floating alongside his father’s final words in his aura as he read the name of the last recipient of his father’s goodwill. He sighed through his nose and placed the papers in front of him, leaning back in his seat and staring up at the ceiling. 

“This is ridiculous. I’m only twenty, I’m not even old enough to drink legally yet, for Faust’s sake. How can he expect me to know how to take care of a foal? Damn him to the moon.”

Cadance and Shining jumped at the unexpected heat in the last statement.

“Well, if you really don’t think you can do this, you don’t have to adopt—,” Shining began hesitantly.

“No, no, I do...I do. If these friends of his are who I think they are, they’re the reason my parents were able to marry in the first place. I owe them not only a deeper debt than even my father, but my very existence, “ he sighed again. “And may Celestia smite me here and now before I allow the foal of such loyal friends to grow up alone in an orphanage.”

Cadance smiled warmly and nodded. “I think you’ll do wonderfully, Lord Crux. If I may,” she held out her hoof for the forms.

Raising a brow, the lord passed them back in his aura to her waiting hooves. She grasped them gently and rang a bell with her magic. A butler was suddenly behind her chair as if he’d teleported, though he was just an earth pony.

After a few quiet words were exchanged, the butler left and returned shortly with a gold stamp in his teeth. He passed it carefully to Cadance, who stamped the papers with her seal, leaving a bright pink symbol of her cutie mark overlaid against the Crystal Empire flag.

“There, adoption papers endorsed by the princess herself. That should smooth over any possible wrinkles.” She tapped the forms gently with her hoof.

“Yeah, that princess. She’s something isn’t she,” Shining drawled, drawing a giggle from his wife.

She passed the papers back to Crux who sat staring at them as if at a loss.

“Is something the matter, Lord Crux,” Cadance asked, a worried frown etched on her muzzle.

“Oh, nothing really,” he said, still staring at the papers. “I’ve just been spending all of my time recently planning, by myself mind you, and attending two funerals before rushing to ensure the house wouldn’t run itself into the ground while I was away.”

“I took a carriage all the way to the capitol of my nation, was verbally assaulted by two of the most prudish excuses of ponykind upon my arrival, had dinner with my princess, watched her husband spit wine halfway across the dining hall, and found out through a letter from my father that I wasn’t allowed to read until just now that I’m also going to be a father myself. And to top it all off, it has now been almost five days since I last slept.”

The royal couple blinked, looked at each other, blinked, and then looked back at the young lord, whose left eye was now starting to develop a noticeable twitch.

“Would you like to have a guest suite for the night before you meet her?“ Shining gestured vaguely to the empty stretch of hallway beyond the dining hall doors.

“That would be the kindest thing I have ever had the purest good fortune to experience, Prince Armor," Crux said, looking at him with eyes that expressed gratitude beyond words.

Cadance tapped her hooves together with finality, ringing the bell again which summoned the servants to gather up the dinnerware. “Well, then that settles that. Let’s sleep for the night and deal with this headache tomorrow after cognac, everypony.”

Something which sounded suspiciously like a sob of relief came from Crux’s direction.

> Meet the Family
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Today’s the day, everypony!”

Bleary and unfocused eyes cracked open wide as the shriek grated harshly on her newly awakened eardrums. With a weary groan she grabbed the edges of her cover and pulled them up over her head as the day began, once again, with squeals and shrieks.

“Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh!”

"Mmm…and I was having such a nice dream too. I think."

As her mind tried to grasp feebly for the remnants of her dream, fading away in the face of the rising noise in the hallway, she struggled to a sitting position, the blanket still draped over her head.

“Awake now, I see?”

She gasped in surprise and pain, a wing rising to help cover her eyes as her impenetrable blanket fortress was dragged off of her head, letting in the bright sunlight.

“Olive, give me back my cover!” She hissed as she squinted at a greenish blob, blinking furiously to allow her eyes to adjust.

An answering scoff only aggravated her further.

“Nope, sorry Silver. It’s time to get out of bed, and I don’t know about you but I’d rather not have the Harpy swooping down on my head for not getting you out of it.”

Wiping her eyes with the back of her hoof, the green blob slowly came into focus. A small green unicorn filly had her wispy, olive-green aura wrapped around a quilted comforter, her eyes focused intensely behind large coke-bottle glasses.

With a quick tug she lined the edges ruler straight and set the wrapped bundle at the foot of Silver’s bed.

“And for the last time, Sylvia” Silver flinched at the use of her name. “My name is Olivia, Olivia Inkwell, not Olive.” 

She raised her muzzle high in the air and gave a toss of her short-cut brown mane, which sent her glasses flying off of her nose and onto the bed.

“Ooh! Oh no, my glasses!”

She scrambled around on the sheets with her hooves while Silver held her stomach, laughing loudly. 

“Nice try Olivia, but I think you overdid it with the mane flipping.” She covered her giggles with a hoof.

Olive found her glasses and slipped them back on her muzzle, blinking owlishly before covering her mouth with both hooves, leaning into the bed and giggling.

A matron’s stern voice reached back to their ears from the hallway, cutting their laughter short.

Olivia stepped back from the bed and tapped her glasses higher up her muzzle. “You should probably start getting ready, Silver. The Harpy is most definitely going to be making her rounds soon to make sure everypony is awake.”

Silver grumbled and slid off the bed, rubbing a hoof through her frizzy metallic mane. “I don’t get why we have to get so dolled up for stuff like this. I mean, if we’re going to get adopted we’ll look like this all the time. It’s not like we’ll be wearing those silly dresses twenty-four seven.”

She ran an appraising eye over Olive as she spoke, taking in her decidedly frilly green summer dress.

Olive rolled her eyes, which amplified by her glasses was quite a dizzying sight. 

“We have to at least try to make a good impression, Silver.”

Silver snorted and stretched her wings, trying to work out the kinks from her deep sleep.

“You should also probably go take a shower. You don’t want to be the last one in and not have any hot wa—”

The door slamming open interrupted her sentence as a tan and silver blur shot past her and out into the hallway.

Olive rolled her eyes again but couldn’t fight the smile that split her muzzle.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



One refreshing shower later and Silver was feeling in a slightly more charitable mood for playing dress up.

Not that that made those dresses any less silly of course.

Silver walked back to her shared bedroom with Olive and pushed open the door to be greeted with the sight of Olive stretched out on her bed with a thick history book pressed close to her muzzle, a hoof rising now and then to tap her slowly sliding glasses back into place.

“Already getting started, huh bookworm?” She smirked.

Olive’s magic grabbed a bookmark  and tucked it snugly into the crease between pages as she looked up from her text. “Oh, apologies Silver. I just couldn’t wait to continue this chapter I started last night.”

Her eyes sparkled and a smile lit her face as she gazed off into the distance.

“It shows the problems the crystal ponies were first having when they moved the empire up here into the Crystal Mountains. How they had to battle constant unicorn prejudice and the sociopolitical pressures of trading with predominantly unicorn societies. Not to mention the issues Chancellor Puddinghead was having with Princess Platinum’s outrageous demands fo—” 

“No more, please! Have mercy Madame Bookworm,” came a theatrical wail.

Her monologue drifted off as her gaze returned to Silver who had her wings and hooves raised protectively in front of her, as if to ward off a blow.

Silver giggled and peaked out from between her feathers to see Olive frowning, her cheeks puffed out and her brow wrinkled.

“I wasn’t that bad,” she huffed.

“Okay, maybe not that bad, but are you really going to sit there and read sweet history to me instead of helping me into this stupid dress?” She pulled a bright yellow summer dress similar to Olive’s out of a chest at the foot of her bed.

Olive sighed and smirked, sliding down off of her bed and tucking her book back into a pair of saddlebags on the sheets.

“Oh please, Silver. It’s not that hard.”

“Yeah, how about you try putting one of these things on with wings and no horn.” she flapped her wings at Olive once in emphasis, ruffling her mane.

Olive tapped her glasses back up higher onto her muzzle and sighed gustily with just the hint of a smile.

“A unicorn’s job is just never done, I suppose.”

“Uh-huh, yeah, sure. Now help me out over here,” the muffled voice called out from inside several layers of yellow cloth and lace.

Olive had to smother a giggle as she lit up her horn and started tugging strategic spots on the dress. After several moments of tugging and straining, and a few muffled words and grunts, they managed to get Silver’s wings through their holes and her head finally popped out.

“Whew! Finally! I can’t believe how hard these things are to put on, especially for pegasi. It’s like they weren’t made with ponies in mind or something.”

Olive’s lenses enlarged her rolling brown orbs.

“Don’t be ridiculous. Now hurry up and brush your mane, we don’t want to be late.

Silver shook her head and trotted over to their shared vanity. It was basically just a small dresser
with a large mirror behind it, but it served its purpose. 

She rummaged around for a brush and got to work on her mane, trying to smooth out the silver frizz that had begun showing up again after her hair had dried off.

After several fruitless attempts to tame her unruly hair she tossed the brush back onto the vanity and grabbed a hair-tie, pulling her hair into a loose ponytail and wrapping it up tight.

Smiling to herself and turning back around she was greeted with a deadpan Olive, her brow raised. 

“What?”

Her green friend merely shook her head and went back to packing books into her saddlebags, now strapped firmly on her back.

“You gonna refurbish a library or something, Olive?”

She turned up her muzzle with a huff, trying to hide her smile. “No, simply packing a few choices for light reading in case we end up having no adults to talk to.” 

The tan filly’s brow rose as she looked at the books her friend was packing. She tilted her head to the side to read one title.

“ A Historian’s Guide to Roaman and Ancient Greek Culture?” She leaned back with a look on her face that was half worried, half impressed.

Her friend nodded. “Light reading.”

“Sure.”

As she watched Olive pack her reading material she scuffed a hoof on the carpet, not daring to look in her direction.

“Did you, uh...pack anything for me?”

The unicorn filly turned around with a proud smirk but said nothing, instead her horn lit up and pulled a smaller hardback from inside the bags.

Prancy Drew and the Secret of the Old Clock.

Silver squealed quietly and snatched the book out from Olive’s aura.

“Oh, I’ve been wanting to read this one forever, thanks Olive! Prancy Drew’s first mystery!”

Her giddy smile faded and her ears turned down as she saw Olive biting her lip to keep from laughing.

“Not that her mysteries are that cool or anything,” she huffed and handed the book back to her straining friend. 

“Oh, of course not. Mysteries wouldn’t be cool to somepony like Silver Sleuth or anything, that would be ridiculous.” she packed the book carefully with the others in her saddlebags and flipped the top closed.

“Now come on, we should go out and join the others.”

Silver fell in behind her as they left their bedroom and stepped out into the hallway. It was already packed with other groups of fillies all dressed in assorted clothing to match their colors, or in the older foals’ cases, their cutie marks. The fillies stepped into the flow of ponies headed toward the auditorium, where the adopting parents met potential candidates. The foals were being herded aside for last-minute inspections by two matrons. One of them with a yellow coat and a blonde mane done up in a professional looking bun waved the two fillies over.

“Good morning, girls. How are you two this morning?” She smiled sweetly.

They both returned the sentiment warmly. “Wonderful, Ms. Rule. Though I had trouble getting Silver out of bed again this morning.” she smirked as the pegasus shot her a glare.

Matron Rule chuckled brightly as Silver shuffled embarrassedly.

“Oh, I see. Well that’s alright, at least you managed to get here on time, hmm?” she shot Silver a wink.

Silver smiled. “Yep, thanks Ms. Golden Rule.”

“That’s Matron Rule to you young lady.”

The fillies flinched and Golden Rule hid a slightly pained wince as her fellow matron walked over to the small group.

“Good morning, Matron Veil,” the girls replied robotically.

“Yes, I should hope it will be. Just as soon as we get you girls cleaned up and presentable.” She glanced at Silver’s mane, tied back in a ponytail. “A ponytail? Come now, you should be able to do better than that, you must look like a proper young lady.” 

“I thought it looked okay…,” the filly mumbled, her ears drooping dejectedly.

Golden Rule frowned as she looked away from the fillies. “Ms. Veil, she looks fine. No parent is going to judge a foal based on whether or not she has a ponytail. No decent parent at least.”

“Perhaps not, but they will still make at least part of their decision based on how proper the young lady can look.” she raised her muzzle slightly in the air, her curly red mane bouncing.

“Matron White Veil, could you come over here please my dear?”

Matron Veil spun around at the voice, the Director of the orphanage beckoning from a table in the auditorium surrounded by parent couples.

“Oh, yes sir, Mr. Director. I’ll be right there!” she fluttered her eyelashes and strode swiftly to the table, eyes glued to the stallion.

Golden Rule sighed through her nose before her ears twitched at a quiet sound. 

Olive was clamping her muzzle shut with both hooves to stem a tide of snickers as her friend made silent gagging motions with her hoof.

“Ms. Sleuth!” Rule scolded quietly, her brow lowered menacingly but its purpose defeated by the smile on her muzzle.

“Yes, Ms. Golden Rule?” the filly smiled innocently and batted her eyelashes.

She shook her head, golden bun bouncing as she tried to shake off the smile.

“You girls go ahead and go in. Remember, just be yourselves but try to be on your best behaviors…,” she stared pointedly at Silver.

“Don’t worry Ms. Rule, I’ll make sure she does.” Olive assured her.

Matron Rule smiled and turned away, greeting another group of entering fillies.

Silver scoffed. “Yeah, as if.”

“Oh, really Sylvia. You must try to present yourself as a proper young lady.”

She shivered. “Don’t copy the Harpy. You’re too good at it.”

Olive giggled as the two fillies walked into the auditorium.

The rafters were hung with brightly colored banners with smiling suns and and flowers and little colored paper cut-outs of foals and cutie marks hung by strings from the ceiling. There had been room laid out near the center for a dance area, and a few of the older colts and fillies were trying their best to dance to the slow, upbeat music without making complete fools of themselves.

Prospective parents were surrounding the refreshment tables and nursing paper cups of punch or juice as they were listening attentively to the Director and Matron Veil give encouraging instructions on how to handle approaching the foals. A few of them were stealing glances at the playing children.

Foals had gathered together into a cluster of groups at one end of the hall, chattering amongst each other nervously and playing with some assorted toys they’d brought along to stave off boredom.

Olive and Silver trotted over to a bench near the dance floor, hopefully close enough to catch attention, but not close enough to be asked if they wanted to dance. They were certainly very horrible at it.

They sat down and Olive set her saddlebags off to the side, pulling out their books. She carefully placed her glorious history guide down in front of her and turned to pass Silver her hardback. Her lips twitched as she looked at Silver’s blissful unawareness that she was bouncing in place excitedly.
“Come on, come on hurry up. Hoof it here!” she whispered.

The green filly snickered as she hoofed over the mystery novel. “If you wore glasses, they would certainly be fogged up.”

“As long as they didn’t look like yours,” she smirked.

“Hey! What’s wrong with my glasses?” the unicorn tapped her thick lenses up her nose lovingly.

A white ponytail bobbed from sided to side as she shook her head, giggling. “Nothin’.”

Olive huffed in faux-indignation before the two fillies dived into their respective pages.

The noises from the other groups of foals died down as the Director finished his encouragements and threw the parents into the proverbial lions den. Some of the couples stood still and took a moment to observe the children, while others rushed headlong onto the dance floor and began talking to some of the more courageous ponies.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As time wore on, several of the younger ponies grew more interested in playing games and playing with their friends rather than the adults. A few couples paired off with one or two foals apiece and were chatting animatedly, most with smiles on their faces. 

The couple speaking near the punch bowl with Olive didn’t look like they were having too much fun. 

The large, muscular stallion had a blank look in his eyes as though shellshocked, his mouth swinging slightly open and closed while his mate had her ears turned down in worry.

Silver tried to hide her snickers behind her Prancy Drew novel, but wasn’t succeeding too well.

“I assume something caused this fit of the giggles, Ms. Sleuth?”

The pegasus filly jumped slightly and spun around on the bench. “Ah, Ms. Rule! Don’t do that, you suprised me. I thought you might’ve been the Harpy.”

Golden Rule raised a brow, a small smile on her face. “The Harpy?”

“Oh, yeah sorry. I meant Matron Veil,” the filly smirked widely.

The motherly matron furrowed her brow but once again couldn’t fight the smile.

“That’s rather rude Ms. Sleuth. I must insist that you not speak so crudely like that in Matron Veil’s presence.”

“Sure thing, Ms. Rule!” the filly smiled widely.

“Where’s your friend Olive?” the mare asked as she scanned the groups of foals horsing* around near the ball-pen.

Silver raised a wing, pointing over to the punch bowl where Olive was explaining something with a slight frown. The couple stared at her like she were a buffalo barreling toward them at earth-shaking velocities.

“She’s traumatizing a few adults over by the punch.”

Golden Rule raised a hoof to her chin worriedly. “Oh, I hope things aren’t going too badly.”

“Yeah, not a lot of ponies can handle Madame Bookworm,” the filly giggled.

Golden Rule smiled slightly, though her forehead remained wrinkled. “She may be learned, certainly. More than any other filly her age I’ve seen, but that doesn’t mean she should be any less precious for potential parents.”

“I don’t know, they seem kind of hesitant about their choice,” Silver pulled a wry face that turned into a frown. “They better not hurt her feelings.”

Golden Rule smiled warmly. “I’m sure with a friend like you, she’ll be just fine.”

A quiet huff distracted the two ponies and they turned to see Olive trotting back toward them, the two parents retreating gratefully. The stallion leaning slightly on his mare and limping.

The matron frowned, biting her lower lip. “Hello there, Olive dear. How did it go?”

“That stallion was a complete idiot,” she deadpanned.

Silver buried her face in her book to stifle shrieking giggles.

“I’m glad you’re having fun! Trying to speak to that stallion about anything concerning Imperial history was akin to pulling teeth.” the little unicorn huffed angrily and pushed her glasses back up her nose.

Rule patted the filly’s shoulder consolingly. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out dear.”

Olive sighed. “Thank you, Ms. Rule, but I think I’m happier with this outcome.”

Yeah?” Silver pulled her muzzle out of her book, wiping tears away with a pinion.

“Quite. I have a feeling if I had been adopted by them, the most interesting thing we would talk about would be which hoofball team would be going to the world championship.” She rolled her eyes.

“He plays hoofball? Is that why he was limping?” Silver asked.

“No, he said he wasn’t sure if he would be able to get along with an ‘egghead’, but he would be willing to try. At least I’m somewhat sure that’s what he said, he was sort of mumbling under his breath. And then his wife kicked him in the fetlock.”

The pegasus held her sides with her wings as she rolled on the bench laughing. Golden Rule looked scandalized.

“Why that’s absolutely horrid! I have half a mind to give that stallion a talking to!”

Olive smiled tiredly. “Oh, that’s alright Ms. Rule. I’d rather just relax and forget about that tedious experience.” 

“Oh...well, if you’re certain Olive dear,” she muttered before turning to Silver in an attempt to lighten the mood. “What about you, Silver? Have you met any couples with potential today?”

The pegasus filly’s ears drooped slightly as she chuckled nervously. “Heh, uh no, not really Ms. Rule. I wasn’t approached again today.” She tucked her head back down below her book in an attempt to hide her face.

Golden Rule’s ears drooped in devastation as she quickly tried to cover her error. “Oh! Well I’m certain you’ll meet some lovely ponies at next week’s meeting.” She tried to smile warmly.

Olive trotted over and nuzzled Silver’s cheek comfortingly.

Silver smiled  at Olive and looked up from her book at the worried matron. “Thanks Ms. Rule. You’re right, I’m sure I’ll meet a nice family eventually.”

Golden Rule gave a livelier smile as she nodded. “I’m glad you’re staying strong Silver. But I think it’s time you girls packed up and headed to your rooms. It looks like the adults are leaving for this session.”

The younger foals were being shepherded off by the older foals and a few were walking out with smiling couples, eager for the trial adoption period.

“Yeah, I guess so. C’mon Olive, let’s pack up.” Silver huffed as she hopped down from the bench, fluttering her wings. “And get out of these frilly dresses.”

Olive rolled her eyes and smiled tolerantly.

“Fillies! Fillies, wait one moment would you please?”

The foals and Matron Rule turned back as the Director trotted up to the them.

“Ah, I’m glad I caught you before you went to your room. Olive dear, would you come with me please?”

The unicorn blinked at Silver who shrugged before tilting her head curiously at the stallion.

“What is the matter, Director, sir?”

He chuckled and waved a hoof dismissively. “Oh, nothing troublesome, it’s just that someone who wants to adopt has shown up, though he was a little late. He’s asked for you specifically, dear.”

Olive blinked owlishly in surprise before tapping her glasses and turning to Silver.

The pegasus rolled her eyes and gave her a bump with a wing. “Well, go on Olive! I’ll just take your saddlebags and go set them on your bed. Go see who it is!”

Olive hesitated before nodding and lighting up her horn to levitate her saddlebags carefully across Silver’s back. She turned to face the Director.

“After you, Mr. Director, sir.”

The stallion smiled and chuckled good-naturedly before cantering off towards his office with Olive in tow.

“Oh my, today’s a busy day for Ms. Inkwell, isn’t it?” Golden Rule smiled.

Silver stared off after the retreating ponies with a calm look on her face.

Rule looked away from Olive and saw Silver’s expression. “Is everything alright, dear?”

“Yeah, Ms. Rule,” the pegasus mumbled. “I was just thinking that one of these days Olive’s gonna meet some ponies  who are as smart as she is and can appreciate it. And she’s gonna go on to do really great things with that nerdy history brain of hers.”

Golden Rule smiled warmly down at her and patted her mane. “That’s very sweet of you to believe in your friend like that Ms. Sleuth,” the filly gave a small smile, still staring after Olive. “ And what about you? What will you do when you get adopted, Silver?”

The filly was silent before looking up at Rule with a big smile that didn’t quite reach her copper eyes. “Thanks for keeping me company Ms. Rule! I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She galloped out of the auditorium, leaving Golden Rule standing there with a surprised look on her muzzle.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Director stopped just outside of a meeting room inside his office, and turned around to face Olive who was staring at the door curiously.

“Now Olive, my dear. The stallion I told you about is waiting inside to meet you. I’ll be sitting out here in my office doing some paperwork. If you need me, just give a shout alright?” he smiled and winked.

Olive giggled and nodded. “Thank you, Mr. Director.”

He nodded and walked back to his desk as Olive turned to the door and gave it a tentative shove open. 

She peeked around the corner of the door and was immediately caught by the sight of a grey-coated stallion sitting at the table in the center of the room with a small brown book in smoky green magic.

He looked up at her with piercing green eyes as she trotted nervously inside, her ears twitching at the intensity of his gaze.

“Please, come sit down,” he waved a hoof at an empty chair across the table as his magic snapped the little brown book shut and tucked it under his coat.

She trotted slowly up to the chair and tried to relax as she sat down, though her ears kept flicking occasionally and her tail swished nervously as his eyes seemed to roam, taking in every inch of her.

“Am I to understand that you are Miss Olivia Inkwell?” the stallion leaned forward and clasped his hooves on the table.

“Um...yes, sir,” she squeaked.

The stallion tossed back his black mane and laughed loudly, startling the little filly.

“Sir? How well mannered. But where are my own manners? My name is Jet, Jet Crux. Lord of the Slateridge region of our lovely little Crystal Empire.”

She’d started to relax as he praised her formality but her eyes widened  as he related his title.

“A lord?! A lord came all this way from Slateridge to speak to me?”

“Slateridge,” she queried, leaning forward in her chair and tapping her glasses. “But that’s all the way at the foot of the mountains!”

He smirked and nodded his head, his horn looked very odd as well, she decided, “Indeed, it was by no means a stroll across town to get to the capitol.”

“And you came all this way just to speak to me?” she stared at the stallion in awe, her coke-bottle glasses magnifying her eyes to several times their normal size.

The stallion coughed and covered his smirk with a hoof as he looked at the filly. “Well, not just to see you. There was a meeting of lords at the palace earlier yesterday that I had to attend as well.”

Olive ‘ooh-ed’ appreciatively.

“Yes, unfortunately a lord or lady never truly has a life of their own. It’s typically mostly meetings and paperwork and such.”

Olive tapped her chin with a hoof thoughtfully, the tip of her tongue poking out. Crux raised a brow at her amusing mask of concentration.

“But, if I may ask Mr. Crux if you’re so busy why would you stop here to see me? I’m...just an orphan.” she mumbled the last part, her ears drooping and trying to avoid eye-contact.

She looked up as he snorted, raising an eyebrow at her disdainfully.

“Just an orphan, hmm?” he drawled.

He leaned back in his chair and pulled a sheaf of papers out from underneath his cloak.

“Tell me, Miss Inkwell. Are you familiar with the identities of your birth parents?”

The question caught her by surprise and she tapped her glasses up her nose as he set the papers down on the table between them.

“Not very well, sir. At least, not as much as I would like. I just have brief flashes of memories...warmth, a kind face…” she broke off into silence as he nodded understandingly.

“T-the Director told me their names though!” she rushed out before seeing how rude that must have been and hunching down in her chair.

“Well, I’m here to fill in as many of those gaps for you as I can.”

She looked up into his face which had softened a few degrees.

“You see, your parents were two of the Inkwells, a family of scribes and scholars that were very renowned in my parents’ time.”

“In fact, it was thanks to intervention on the part of your parents that my own were able to be married, and thanks to them that I am able to speak to you now as I am.”

Olive blinked in surprise as his magic slid the papers toward her where she could read them.

“A-adoption forms?” she gasped, looking back up at Jet.

He nodded. “Your parents showed kindness to my own long ago, but they passed before I could truly thank them for their selflessness. However, before my parents took to their own peace two weeks ago, they left these papers for me and in turn, for you.”

“I as well am ‘just an orphan’ in my own way,” he smirked at Olive as her ears perked forward. “And I would make good on that debt owed. I would adopt you, Olivia Inkwell, if that would be agreeable to you.”

Olivia bit her lip and looked down as tears sprung unbidden to her eyes.

“Thank you, sir,” she sniffed, wiping her eyes behind her glasses. “But...I can’t.”

Jet raised an eyebrow and waved a hoof, prompting her to explain.

“I…I have a friend here you see, sir. She is very dear to me, the only pony that’s ever treated me like a friend, and I can’t leave h-her here alone. We promised we’d be together and friends for the rest of our l-lives.” she sniffed as her voice broke on the last word.

She gave a watery giggle as she looked back up at Lord Crux with tears in her eyes, fogging up her glasses. “You know, there was this lovely couple that wanted to speak with me not even an hour ago.”

“They seemed like very nice ponies, but I had to act like I was a know-it-all and turn them away. That poor stallion even ended up getting kicked in the fetlock by his wife.”

She giggled again, though somewhat sadly.

“But I did it because...because I can’t leave Silver here all by herself. The other foals our age don’t treat us very nicely and they’d be even worse to her if I wasn’t here to help.”

Jet looked on silently as the filly sniffled and wiped away her tears, looking thoroughly miserable. 

“Would you wait here for a moment, Miss Inkwell? I won’t be gone very long.”

Olive wiped at her eyes and gave a weak ‘mm-hmm’.

Crux stepped out of the meeting room and walked into the Director’s office.

The stallion looked up from his paperwork and gave Crux a hopeful smile. “Ah, yes Lord Crux. I hope everything is going well?”

“As well as can be expected, good sir. Please, tell me, where can I find a young friend of Miss Inkwell’s? A filly by the name of Silver, I believe?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Silver lay down in her room on her bed, the abominably uncomfortable dress on the floor and the lights turned off. Olive’s saddlebags were on the sheets of her own bed. 

The filly’s face, however, was buried in her pillows where she was being a thorough mope.

She should have been happy that Olive was getting so many potential parents. It was a great thing to see so many ponies interested in giving her best friend a happy home.

So why did it make her feel so bad?

The pillow would have had to endure more of her sulking invading its personal space if a knock on the door hadn’t distracted her from her self-imposed muffling.

“Hello?” she called.

“Good evening, Miss Sleuth. May we come in?” the smooth voice of Matron Golden Rule called from behind the door.

“Ms. Rule? Yeah, sure, come on in.”

“Wait...we?”

Silver looked up from her pillow as the door opened and the lights flicked on to gasp as she saw the stallion that walked in beside Golden Rule.

Jet raised a brow at the filly’s expression of awe. 

“Is something the matter?” he asked.

“Your horn is weeeeird!” she half-shouted, her eyes sparkling and a wide smile threatening to split her muzzle.

The young lord scoffed in surprise before laughing uproariously.

“Miss Sleuth! How terribly rude, I insist you apologize right this instant!” Golden Rule scowled powerfully, but the filly was too entranced to pay the look its full due of terror.

“Oh, uh...sorry, mister. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings or anything.” she mumbled, her copper orbs still radiating supreme awe and wonder.

“No, no, it’s *heh* quite alright,” he waved a hoof dismissively at the filly and irate matron and snorted. “It’s just that awe isn’t the reaction I usually receive.”

Silver blinked and ‘hmm-ed’ thoughtfully. “Well, if you don’t mind my askin’ you...why are you two here? You’re probably the pony that wanted to meet Olive right? Is she okay?” her voice picked up speed and worry the more questions tumbled from her mouth.

Jet raised a calming hoof and smirked. “I assure you, Miss Sleuth. Miss Inkwell is just fine physically.”

“Physically?” she asked, raising a brow worriedly.

He nodded somberly. “That’s why I asked Miss Golden Rule here to bring me to you. You see, I offered to adopt Miss Inkwell just a short while ago.”

The filly kept her face calm as she felt an unwelcome stab of pain in her chest. She forced herself to smile.

“That’s great, mister! I hope you take good care of Olive, she deserves to be happy.”

Jet smirked. “Well, that’s just the thing, isn’t it. She turned down my offer.”

Silver blinked in surprise, but couldn’t stop her heart from jumping for joy just a little.

“B-but why? Not to be rude or anything, but you seem like a pretty nice stallion. Do you hate books or something?”

“Oh, no,” he chuckled quietly. “You see, she said she couldn’t accept my offer because then she’d be leaving you here...alone.”

The pegasus stared at the stallion, her mouth hanging open in shock.

“WHAT?!”

Jet winced slightly and turned his ears back at the volume of her shout and Golden Rule slapped her hooves over her ears.

“What kind of stupid, idiotic things is that filly thinking? How can she turn down a good home just to keep me from...being alone?”

“Where is that filly, I’m going to knock some sense into her head along with all that history mumbo jumbo!” she seethed and jumped off of her bed, her wings raised and flapping agitatedly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Olive had managed to make herself presentable again while Lord Crux was gone with the help of some delicately donated tissues from the Director.

She had just about begun to relax in her chair when the door flew open, slamming back on its hinges and nearly making her jump out of her skin.

“Olive! What the f-...the...the fidoodle are you thinking?!” Silver cried, stomping menacingly into the room.

“S-Silver?” Olive gasped, her hoof over her heart. “W-what are you talking about?”

She sat there paralyzed while Silver stomped over to her. Lord Crux, Matron Golden Rule and the Director trotted in her wake.

“I’m saying, what the hay are you thinking? Turning down an adoption offer just because you didn’t want to leave me alone?! What - the - hay?!” she cuffed Olive in the back of the head with a wing for emphasis.

“B-but I…” Olive stuttered in shock, holding her head with both hooves.

“I’m not worth giving up your future, Olive! You’re gonna get adopted and grow up to be a librarian or a history teacher, or even Princess Cadance’s head nerd or something!”

“You can’t go throwing all that away for someone like me!”

Olive blinked incredulously. “Of course you’re worth it! You are my best and only friend in all of Equestria!”

“I’m not gonna leave you here alone just so you can get bullied by the other kids and the Harpy without anyone to turn to!” she shouted, her voice dropping its properness in the heat of the moment.

“But you can’t! I was abandoned here by ponies who didn’t want me ‘cuz I was a pegasus. You’re a unicorn, you can-can’t just…” she broke off as tears started to flow uncontrollably down her face.

Her shoulders shook with silent sobbing as Olive grabbed her in a tight hug.

“Don’t be an imbecile, Silver! You’re worth so much more than that. You’re my best friend,” she sniffed. “Forever, remember?”

The fillies held each other and shook from the force of their sobbing before a voice broke the moment.

“Well, I believe I may have a solution to this.”

They looked up to see Jet eyeing The Director and Golden Rule, the latter of whom had red, puffy eyes from shed tears.

“Sir Director, how difficult would it be for you to draft up a second set of adoption papers?”

The Director blinked in surprise. Oh, well, um...that shouldn’t be too hard. I could draft another set in a few minutes.”

The girls blinked away tears in surprise as Jet kneeled next to them. 

“Miss Sleuth, I can see that your friend Olivia doesn’t wish to give you up, even for adoption. And I can see that you feel the same, regardless of your good intentions.”

Silver sniffed and looked down at the floor.

“So, what would you think of me adopting you as well?”

The pegasus looked up in shock as Olive gasped in surprised joy.

“We could be sisters!” She squealed, grabbing Silver by the withers and dragging her into a bone-crushing hug. 

Silver couldn’t stop the smile that lit up her face or the tears that followed.

“That...that’d be awesome, mister!” she cried, returning Olive’s vice-like grip.

Jet smirked as he turned back to the two orphanage managers, the Director with a whimsical grin and Rule smiling through puffy eyes and blowing her nose on a tissue.

“So, where do I sign?”
> Settling In
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jet was finding the struggle to suppress a sigh growing increasingly difficult.

His two new daughters—by the Maker, he’d have trouble getting used to that idea, had been silent nearly the entire trip back to Slateridge from the castle. Having been spending his free time re-familiarizing himself with the contents of his duties ledger after an entirely needed full night’s sleep, the silence had been appreciated.

That was of course, for the first half-day of a two day trip. Of course, they’d needed the first day to recover from their near physical trauma, and he could sympathize with that.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Oh my gosh!”

Jet had barely enough time to leap out of harm’s way and be steadied by Shining Armor before Cadance swept down upon the fillies like a ferocious pink panther.

“You two are just so adorable~!”

The two foals who, until that point, had been walking side by side behind their newly adoptive father, their mouths open in awe at the sight of the castle and the actual princess, realized too late their doom. 

Olive tried to scramble for safety behind a nearby tapestry but was snagged by a sparkly, baby-blue telekinetic field. Her little hooves flailing in the air as she was dragged inexorably toward a giggling princess who had taken the opportunity to pounce on Silver, the filly’s limbs frozen and her pupils enlarged in terror.

“Ohh~! Just look at you! And your mane is so cute! I love the ponytail, it looks so good on you. I used to have a ponytail too you know, back when I first met Shining-”

The princess’ mix of babbling and coos were lost on the tan filly, who felt as though her spine were being snapped in half by one of the princess’ forelegs, while the other petting her mane felt as though it were going to rip her hair out by the roots.

“Silver?” Olive asked worriedly as one of the pinned pegasus’ wings flapped feebly.

Her attention caught by the noise, Cadance turned and gasped as though seeing the bespectacled filly for the first time.

“Have mercy,” Olive whimpered.

Cadance squealed excitedly and released Silver who slumped to the floor, gasping for air. Olive gave one last fruitless attempt to wriggle out of the princess’ magic before she was encased in the vice-like grip of pretty pink hooves.

“Your mane-cut is just adorable, it really brings out your eyes. Oh, and you have the most amazing dimples!”

The unicorn filly batted weakly at the princess’ poofy tri-color mane as Cadance nuzzled her forcefully, pushing her glasses this way and that across her face.

“And those glasses! Ohh~! I wish Twilight had worn glasses like these, they just make you oh so squeezable!” Cadance giggled girlishly as she slung Olive around in her hug.

Silver tried shakily to stand and gallop for safety.

Jet watched the whole situation with a sense of morbid fascination.

“Does the Princess normally do this?” he mumbled, his eyes still glued to the scene.

“Only with foals,” Answered Shining, who looked as though he were unsure whether to laugh or groan.

After a heroic rescue by Jet and Shining Armor, the fillies had cowered behind Lord Crux, clinging to each other tightly. Cadance had contented herself by interspersing their conversation with wide smiles pointed toward them. 

The girls could only shiver each time.

The royal couple had first asked questions as to why Crux had come back with two daughters instead of one. Following one quick retelling of the complications that had arisen and been overcome, Cadance had sniffed back tears and made a wild grab to praise the fillies.  

“You refused to allow your friendship to be torn apart?! That...that’s so adorable~!”

They in turn had shrieked in terror until Shining had managed to restrain the ruling monarch from trampling Lord Crux who had put himself between the teary princess and her targets

Once she had calmed again and they had discussed any remaining concerns for Slateridge’s delayed shipments of stone and crystal. Now that the empire was expanding, they needed all the building material they could get for construction and housing. , Crux had thanked the couple for their hospitality and shepherded his new charges out of the castle and into a waiting carriage.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Crux looked up from his third re-reading of his duties ledger to glance at the two fillies. 

Olive kept her nose buried in a book of Slateridge history she had pulled from her room’s formidable tower of tomes that had taken up most of the luggage the carriage was now hauling. Silver, on the other hoof had been staring out one of the carriage’s windows at the passing buildings and quarries on their way into the main city.  

Crux was about to admit defeat and return to reading production percentages and profit margins when a voice finally broke the silence.

“So what’s with all the shiny stone and stuff around here?” Silver asked, her nose pressed against the glass.

One corner of his mouth upturned as he joined her in looking out the window.

“Well, Slateridge, as its name implies is a mining region for the most part. We are the empire’s prime producers of stone, crystal and ore.”

Silver’s brow wrinkled as she turned away to face her new caretaker.

“Crystal? Why does the Crystal Empire need any more crystal?”

He chuckled and opened his mouth to answer when a low, but confident voice caught their attention.

They turned to see Olive tap her glasses up the bridge of her nose as she began speaking, not taking her eyes from the pages of knowledge grasped in her hooves. 

“For building, of course. The vast majority of the Crystal Empire’s construction projects are heavily reliant on a material made of magically reinforced crystal native only to the Crystal Mountain range.”

A page lifted and turned under the influence of a wispy, green aura as a smile tugged at her lips, thoroughly absorbed in the topic.

“The houses in the capitol, and even the castle itself wasn’t just found or carved from existing structures. Several generations of miners and prospectors joined forces to find a new material for housing, since stone buildings were difficult to warm in the cold climate.”

“After the discovery of an enchantment that hardened the native crystal by said pioneers, their campsites became the center of mining for its time. And so, Slateridge was founded circa fourth century S.E.*”

Jet watched the filly with a bemused expression as she flipped another page, the smile still on her muzzle. His eyes returned to Silver as she cleared her throat expectantly.

“Your sister is absolutely correct,” he smirked.

The pegasus blinked in surprise before smiling warmly. “Yeah, I figured. Madame Bookworm is rarely wrong.” she sniffed haughtily and turned up her muzzle.

Olive puffed out her cheeks and ‘hmph’ed’ irritably, which only made Silver giggle.

Jet raised an eyebrow and snorted, shaking his head before gazing out of the window.

“We’re entering town now. We should arrive at the estate in an hour or so.”

Even the unicorn filly’s attention was grabbed long enough for the three of them to gather at one window and observe the passing town.

As befit its name, the buildings were primarily composed of wood and solid slabs of slate and granite, with only a few shining in true Crystal Empire splendor. Wide canals split the streets, where barges laden with ore and stone were delivering their cargoes to blacksmiths and refineries; identifiable by the large smokestacks that jutted out over the roofs of the surrounding houses like giant cigars.

The cobblestone streets and wooden bridges spanning the canals were packed with a multitude of earthy colored crystal ponies with the occasional unicorns and the even rarer pegasus. Stalls were surrounded by ponies who were ogling their varied offerings, from locally grown produce to painstakingly crafted pieces of crystalline jewelry.

Jet gave a small smile as he drew a deep, refreshing breath of the air of his home, the strong, metallic taste of iron from the forges heavy on the air.

“So you live here in town and not off on your own land right?” Silver asked. “What did you call it? Your strait...es-estake-”

“Estate,” Olive supplied helpfully.

“Yeah, that,” the pegasus grinned, not missing a beat. “You live in an estate here in town?”

“Indeed, it’s easier that way for the foreponies and merchants to bring me their reports or ask for corrections instead of having to slog miles out of town just to talk to me.”

“You’ll like it I think,” he smirked. “There’s plenty of rooms for the two of you to pick from, the local academy is just a few minutes’ walk from the gates, there’s even a garden on the grounds, if you find yourselves so inclined.”

“An academy!?,” the unicorn asked, her eyes sparkling in excitement.

“An academy!?,” the pegasus asked, her ears and wings drooping in sorrow.

“An academy,” Jet nodded proudly, smirking. “One of the best this side of the Empire.”

The fillies’ expressions grew two fold as the carriage carted them further into town.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The wheels of the carriage ground to a halt as the two ponies pulling it unhitched themselves and opened the door of the carriage, bowing as Crux stepped out onto the cobblestones and holding out a hoof to assist the two girls.

The fillies stared up at the wrought-iron gates in front of an imposing multi-story mansion made of dark wood and slate.

Jet stepped toward the gates as the carriage ponies unloaded their luggage. One of a pair of guards stepped forward and saluted with his spear, his eyes registering a small amount of curiosity as he beheld the two fillies following him.

“Good evenin’ milord! Welcome back!”

The young lord nodded, a crooked grin spreading across his face.

“Ahh, the welcoming party! At ease gentlestallions, keep an eye on our luggage for a moment will you? I’ll send someone along to pick it up shortly.”

The guards nodded and stepped back into position, pushing the gates open as they approached.

Olive and Silver broke into a canter to keep up with their guardian’s long stride, their eyes soaking up every little detail of the front of the house.

Their hooves clacked on the cobblestone path that lead through a wooded lawn, the sides of the path lined with trimmed hedges  that stretched all the way to a circular fountain in front of two wide wooden doors.

“Now girls, welcome, to the Crux family estate. And now yours as well.”

The slate tiled roof sloped down to dark wooden walls that were well spaced with tall, open windows, their curtains blowing in the breeze and revealing dark glimpses of interior rooms.

A chimney made of a dark brick extended above the roof, wafting a stream of gray smoke into the sky accompanied by the smell of cooking going on, no doubt, at its source.

“Ah, young master, welcome ‘ome!”

The fillies looked down from the higher floors to the front doors, which had opened to reveal a thin, purple stallion with a well-groomed green mane in a crisply pressed suit. As they stepped inside he took Crux’s coat and folded it over his arm neatly. He arched a thin eyebrow as his gaze roamed over the two girls.

“Might I ask who your...guests are, young master?” he asked in a thick Prench accent.

“Ah, Merlot! Good to see you. Say hello to my new daughters.”

Merlot’s already arched brow raised a hair’s width. He smiled widely and nodded his head to the Olive and Silver.

“Oui, of course! Bienvenu, young ladies. Will the three of you be having lunch after your trip?”

Crux shook his head. “No, thank you Merlot. I have a few calls to make now that I’m back home. I’ll have to wait until dinner, so you’ll give Varnish my apologies. But I’m certain the girls would like something to eat.”

The fillies vigorously nodded their assent, Silver pressing a wing to her stomach to suppress its grumbles.

“Of course, oui! Then young ladies please, follow me. I will escort you into the care of lady Varnish, our head housekeeper.”

As the butler walked back inside the house Olive turned to Jet. “Well, he seemed to take that surprisingly well.”

Jet smirked. “Oh, he's handling it well alright. He always did have the best poker face.” His lips curled into a thoughtful frown. "I'd give it ten minutes."

Silver shuffled her wings and sidled closer to Olive. “And we have to follow him? Without you?”

A bemused brow raised as he took in the anxious filly. “Don’t worry, Silver. Merlot may have his quirks, but my father trusted him with everything and so do I. You’ll be in good hooves while I’m busy.”

The fillies nodded and Crux spun sharply, taking a door into an adjacent hallway. 

“Young ladies! This way, s’il vous plait!”

Olive pressed as close to Silver as she could manage before they set off after the stallion.

They walked down hallways decorated with small stands topped with busts or vases filled with assorted flowers. There were even a few chairs and small end tables set next to windows so a pony could read or simply enjoy the breeze and bright sunlight.

Silver was looking at portraits of scenery along the walls when they passed the largest she’d seen yet. 

“Hey, Mr. Merlot.,” she called down the hallway. “Who’s this lady?”

She squeaked in surprise as the butler appeared next to her as if he’d been there the entire time.

“Ah, oui young lady. You have keen eyes. This is the young master’s mother, Lady Sable.”

Silver gazed back up at the portrait, her mouth open in a silent ‘ooh’.

The mare in the portrait was staring out at them as if knowing she were being observed, her dark gray coat and long black mane in stark contrast to the light of a sunset streaming in from a balcony door behind her. 

Her brow was raised over piercing red eyes and her lips were pulled into a smirk, as if mocking  the artist for having the gall to paint her.

“So that’s where he gets it,” Olive mumbled, tapping her glasses up her nose.

Merlot chuckled as he continued down the hall, the fillies in tow. “Oui, miss. It would be fair to say that the young master got his sense of humor from his father and everything else from Lady Sable.”

“She seemed like she would have been a nice pony to know,” Silver remarked, craning her neck to glance back at the painting.

“Oui…,” he said, smiling faintly.

The three took a few turns, making their way down several more hallways lined with more portraits and vases, though this one in particular seemed dedicated to roses, when Olive noticed Merlot’s eyes darting to steal glances at them for a moment before looking away.

“Is there something the matter, Mr. Merlot?” Olive asked, tilting her head inquisitively.

Merlot gave no sign of his surprise other than a slight tightening of his shoulders, but Olive’s microscopic lenses picked up the motion.

“Well...oui, miss. You see, I was merely wondering-”

“If he actually adopted us, or if this is some sorta crazy prank?” Silver guessed, her eyes still roaming the decor.

“Oui,” he chuckled.

Olive giggled. “Yes, Mr. Merlot. Sir Crux adopted us almost three days ago in the Crystal capital. Apparently, his father’s final words had adoption papers attached, specifically for me.”

“For you?” he asked, his eyes darted to Silver who had turned to the conversation.

“Yep! Me and Olive didn’t want to be separated so Mr. Crux adopted us both so we could be together.”

“And now we’re sisters!” the unicorn squealed.

“Ah, je vois,” he smiled. “Master Aurol always did like to spring surprises on the younger master. Oui, I could see such a thing.”

“Yeah, we must’ve been a surprise alright,” mumbled Silver.

“What is this? Doubts, non?”

“Well, y’know. It just seems like he doesn’t…” Silver broke off, chewing on her lower lip.

“He’s rather quiet around us. I don’t think he’s very comfortable,” Olive supplied. Silver nodded in agreement.

“Ah, je comprends. Not to worry, mon fille, the young master is simply...how do you say...socially awkward, non?”

Silver tilted her head. “Huh? But he seems pretty confident talking to other ponies.” 

“Oui, he is, but that is his job. What sort of respectable lord does not command respect and admiration in his ponies. But you two, you are family now, non? He can be himself around you, and he has very little experience in being himself.”

The girls digested the information as the hallway’s end neared.

“Ehh,” they looked up as Merlot cleared his throat awkwardly.

“No offense, mon petites dames, but you seem like mischievous young ladies, so if ever you use that against the young master, please don’t tell him I told you, oui?” he chuckled nervously.

Olive giggled as the pegasus raised an eyebrow and smiled evilly 

“No promises.”

“Ah, bien sûr,” he mumbled, smiling.

They chatted about a few more things, as they turned a corner to the sounds of clanking pots and pans overlaid with an authoritative voice calling orders.

“Mabel! Keep an eye on your pots, don’t let them boil over!”

“Yes, ma’am.” A voice called cheerfully.

“And Whittle, be careful with that knife! You could put someone’s eye out!”

“Yes, ma’am.” mumbled a voice that sounded like it belonged to a bored colt.

Merlot stopped in front of a door that was leaking odors that set the fillies’ mouths watering and stomachs rumbling.

With a smile and flourish, he pressed the door open with a hoof and bowed.

“Behold, mademoiselles, la cuisine.”

Olive and Silver stepped in ahead of Merlot as they gaped in wonder at the hustle and bustle of the kitchen. 

Ponies rushed back and forth through the narrow paths between counters and stovetops, the former covered in fresh ingredients being prepared for cooking and the later covered in assorted pots and pans simmering or sizzling over heat.

Dishwashers chatted animatedly over wide sinks filled with bubbly mounds of suds, and ponies wearing aprons deftly handled sharp knives that danced over cutting boards, reducing vegetation to uniform pieces.

So many colored coats were dashing around in circles that the girls felt themselves start to grow a little dizzy from trying to keep track of it all.

“Merlot, you scoundrel, you kept me waitin’. Is Master Crux back yet?”

Merlot sighed good-naturedly as a slightly chubby chocolate colored mare with her mousy blonde mane tied up in a neat bun trotted up to the group, a kindly smile stretching her rosy cheeks.

“Oh, and who are these little dumplins?” she smiled warmly down at the fillies, who couldn’t help but return it in kind.

“Ah, Mademoiselle Varnish, you’re looking as radiant as ever, non? To answer your questions, oui the young master has returned and these petit filles are his new daughters.”

Varnish giggled at first before realizing that Merlot wasn’t laughing and gasped as she stared at the two ponies.

“Greetings, Miss Varnish,” Olive said, giving a ladylike bow.

Silver glanced at her unicorn companion before smiling at Varnish. “Hiya! How’s it goin’?”

Varnish stared blankly for a few seconds before crumpling with a sigh. Merlot quickly dashed forward and caught the mare in his hooves, holding her up surprisingly easy for such a slight stallion.

“Ah, Varnish, mon petit chou-fleur, so delicate. Come now, we must have you in possession of your senses, oui?” He fanned her face lightly with a handkerchief he produced from a vest pocket.

Olive and Silver stared in surprise as the mare slowly awoke, a few of the kitchen staff made passing glances but shrugged it off with a smile or chuckle. Apparently it was commonplace.

“Oh, oh mah Cadance. I’m sorry Merlot, I didn’t mean to faint on ya again.”

“Non, think nothing of it mon cher! I will accept any opportunity to embrace your beautiful form, oui?” He smiled suavely, helping her to her hooves.

Varnish rolled her eyes, trying to hide a faint blush.

“Keep your sweet talkin’ to yourself, ya scoundrel.”

The fillies giggled as Merlot clutched his chest dramatically. “Ah, mon cœur! You wound me mademoiselle!”

“Keep it up and I’ll wound ya for real!” She smiled as she threatened a grab at a nearby rolling pin.

The butler quickly straightened and coughed into his kerchief. “Oui, of course.”

“Now what’d you come here for, and why’d you bring the dumplin’s with ya?”

“I came along to escort the young misses to the kitchen, non? They are hungry and wish to sate their bellies. I am also to inform you that the young master will not be taking lunch, but instead will wait for dinner.”

Varnish tutted and shook her head. “Boy’s right starvin’ himself. Doesn’t eat enough to feed a sick colt.”

“But you darlins are hungry, huh? What do ya want to eat?”

“Well, what’s cookin’?” Silver chirped.

“Sorry, but what’s in the pots and pans is for dinner and won’t be finished till later this evenin’. Just tell me what ya want to eat for lunch and I’ll have the cooks whip it up for ya.”

Olive blinked owlishly behind her glasses, “You mean to say we get to pick whatever we want to eat? It could even be junkfood?”

“I’m pretty sure that’s what I’m sayin’,” the mare chuckled, smiling fondly at the bespectacled filly.

“Awesome…,” Silver mumbled, wiping a bit of drool from her chin as the unicorn elbowed her.

Varnish let loose a hearty laugh at the their antics.

The two girls glanced at each other and shared wide grins.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Ooh, so many confections,” Olive moaned, rubbing at her stomach.

Silver stabbed a few slices of melon with a fork and stuffed them in her mouth before grabbing another cookie.

“Mmhmm! Dish wash a goodh idea!”

“How’s everything goin’ dumplins?” Varnish called as she walked into a small tea room where the fillies were seated at a table.

“Great! Miss Rule never used to let us eat this many cookies!” Silver squeed, swallowing her mouthful of fruit.

Varnish laughed loudly. “Well, I’m glad you like ‘em. My own recipe. But don’t eat too many of ‘em now, ya don’t wanna ruin your dinner do ya?”

Olive groaned and Silver looked at the cookie clenched in her pinions.

“Nah, I guess not,” she tossed the cookie back onto the platter in the center of the table. “Hey, Miss Varnish, tell that one curly haired cook thanks for making us this fruit salad.”

Varnish blinked in surprise. “Julienne? How did ya know he made your salad?”

Silver giggled and tapped the side of her nose with a wing. “The fruit was cut into the same little slices that he makes with his knife while cutting veggies. I saw him in the kitchen earlier.”

Varnish gaped as Olive chuckled weakly, still rubbing her distended belly.

“Silver notices little things like that.”

“Well, I’ll be,” Varnish smiled looking over the two fillies. “You two are a right treat, ya know that?”

Olive groaned. “Please don’t say treat.”

“Weak!,” Silver scoffed.

Varnish dissolved into chuckles that set her body shaking. “Yep, you two are somethin’ alright. I spoke with Master Crux  while I was out, and he said he’d be lockin' himself in the study 'til dinner, so do you two want to be shown where you’ll be stayin’? We can’t put your luggage away until ya pick a room.”

“A bed sounds lovely,” Olive mumbled with a faint smile.

“You aren’t gonna fall asleep on me now are you, bookworm?”

“No…,” the unicorn mumbled.

Silver rolled her eyes and Varnish chuckled. “Well, I guess that decides that, now don’t it? Ya got an idea in mind for where ya’d like to stay?,” Varnish asked.

The pegasus tapped her chin with a wing. “Hmm...is there a room close to where Mr. Crux sleeps? Any free rooms around there?”

Varnish pursed her lips and squinted before breaking into a slow grin. 

“I think I got just the one.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“This…bed…is...awesome!”

Silver laughed as she bounced up and down on one of the giant four-poster beds in their new room.

The mattress was so soft and the comforters so thick that even with the pegasus bouncing with total abandon, the noise didn’t disturb the semi-conscious unicorn on the other bed.

Possessing a balcony, bathroom, a walk-in closet, multiple bookcases, a table with a few chairs, dressers and a fully stocked vanity, this room was definitely more than the fillies were used to.

Their luggage had been placed to one side of the room for them to organize at their leisure, a single chest for the both of them, packed with their clothes and assorted knick knacks and a tower of books, stretching up as tall as the bed comprised Olive’s collection of history texts.

“Well, I’ll be. If that ain’t a trove then I don’t know what is,” Varnish smiled, shaking her head at the pile’s size.

“Yeah, as far as I know, Olive’s spent her whole life collecting all that history junk.”

“Ain’t that somethin’...” 

“So what room is this, anyway?,” Silver galloped around the room, opening drawers and doors, looking into every available cranny.

“This here was Lady Sable’s tea room. We moved the beds in for ya so you’d have somewhere to sleep.”

Silver ceased her rummaging to glance at Varnish. “ Mr. Crux’s mom used this room?”

“That’s right. Whenever she wanted to relax, she’d come to this here room and read, paint, or have tea. In fact, the old master used to come in here and use her easel to paint her picture. He musta made dozens of ‘em.”

“So...this is our grandmother's room?” The unicorn mumbled sleepily from her sea of blankets.

Varnish smiled warmly, nodding. “I s’pose so.”

Silver grinned, galloping around the room to look at all the decorations. There were seascapes, landscapes and more portraits of Sable herself, though these were smaller.

There was even a smaller portrait on the corner of the vanity. It was a brown stallion with a messy black mane and bright green eyes. It had a lipstick mark in the top right corner.

The pegasus grinned, holding up the frame. “This is Crux’s dad, isn’t it?”

“That’s right,” the maid chuckled. “She kept that picture o' him here in this room and he kept one o’ her in his study. When he was busy with his work, he’d write little notes and give ‘em to us to pass to her. She kept ‘em in that drawer right there.”

Silver pulled open the indicated vanity drawer and beheld the pile of notes with small, barely readable hornwriting scrawled on their surfaces.

“Wow, this is tiny. How was she supposed to...read...this!?” She squealed in surprise and delight.

Varnish tilted her head curiously, Olive grunted in her sleep.

“Look at this!” Silver pulled something out of the drawer and turned around.

It was a magnifying glass.

“Oh, lookit that,” Varnish cooed.

“It’s a magnifying glass, just like Prancy Drew and Sherlock Hooves use!” The filly squealed excitedly and put the lens to her eyes, using it to look over everything. The writing on the notes, the individual parts of her feathers, Varnish’s mane, up Olive’s nose.

“I don’t know if she’d appreciate that, dumplin’,” Varnish said, smothering laughter behind a hoof.

“Eh, what she don’t know won’t hurt her,” Silver shrugged. “Whoa! It’s really big in there!”

Varnish bit down on her hoof to remain silent as Silver continued to explore Olive’s nostrils.

As Silver continued to gush over the magnifying glass, Varnish opened the door and stepped out.

“Alright dumplin’, I gotta go make sure nopony burns dinner. You and sweet-pea over there relax until then. If ya need us, just pull that rope over there.” She pointed a hoof at a tasseled rope that hung near the vanity.

“Okay, thanks Miss Varnish!” Silver waved a hoof over her shoulder, too entranced with counting the hairs in Olive’s nose to pay much attention.

Varnish smiled and closed the door softly, leaving the fillies alone for the first time in days.

Silver’s eyes started to itch and burn  as she counted hairs. “One hundred and two, one hundred and three…*yawn*...one hundred and four.”

“Maybe a little nap before dinner won’t hurt.”

She pulled Olive’s glasses from her face carefully, folding them in her pinions and placing them on the end table between their beds along with the new magnifying glass.

Hauling herself into her new bed, she sank into the comforters, not even bothering to cover herself.

“This is a pretty neat place. And the new ponies seem nice, even if Merlot is a mare-killer. But he only seems to like Varnish. Maybe there’s more to them...I should investigate...that soo-”

The pegasus’ thought remained unfinished as she joined her sister in slumber.

> Well-kept Secrets
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The last week had gone as well as could be expected. If Jet could say anything about the girls, they were adaptive. 

He had enrolled them in classes within a day and according to their homeroom teacher, they’d adjusted quite well to the new curriculum and students. Olive in particular had dived into her classes with enthusiasm, and while Silver hadn’t quite shown her sister’s same propensity for learning he could not fault her determination.

Jet, on the other hand could find plenty of faults with himself.

At the orphanage, he’d managed to remain calm, sophisticated. During the ride home in the carriage they’d had rather enjoyable conversations, short though they may have been.

Even when they had arrived at the estate it had started well enough, however once they had chosen their new room right down the hall from his own, Varnish had thought it was endearing, and unpacked their luggage, the realization that they were now truly new family had slammed into him like a runaway train.

Normally, Crux considered himself rather level-headed but he would be lying if he’d said he hadn’t panicked just slightly.

No matter how hard he had tried, and he had worked harder on this than he had smiling at Lord Jasper’s wedding, he couldn’t seem to relax around those two.

He’d fallen back on old habits almost immediately, sequestering himself in his father’s office and making excuses about tax forms that needed attention, or receiving a conveniently timed notice to return a late library book.

Though Olive was perhaps too nose-deep in his father’s library to take much notice, Silver had picked up on his hesitation almost immediately. 

She had apparently mistaken it for dislike on his part and had recently begun avoiding eye contact with him, only speaking when spoken to directly and even then keeping her reply as short as possible.

The frustrated young lord even now sat in his office, the comfortably padded chair doing little to ease the uncharacteristic scowl that twisted his muzzle. Papers lay on his desk unheeded, his mind too clouded with frustration and contempt for his awkwardness to bother with their contents.

“Here I am, hiding in my proverbial castle from two little fillies like a foal frightened by Nightmare Night decorations. I call myself their guardian for Maker’s sake, I should be out congratulating them on their hard work, or helping them with their homework at the very least."

"Yet I can’t even manage to speak with them like normal ponies. Let alone the fact that, if anything, Olive would most likely be helping me with my work.”

So absorbed was he with his internal berating, he didn’t notice the creak of his door as a pony stepped softly inside bearing a tray.

“Ah, a pony must be careful with such a face young master, lest it freeze that way, non?”

The young lord sighed and closed his eyes, slumping over the desk defeatedly with his horn scraping against the lacquered hardwood. 

“What am I going to do, Merlot?”

“About what, young master? If you are asking this most humble servant for advice with some legal matter or another I must admit, such things are far above my paygrade.”

The dark purple unicorn gently set aside the few papers on Crux’s workplace, stacking them into a neat pile as he placed the tea tray down with nary a sound.

“No, Merlot about the children. What am I going to do about the children!?” The irate stallion slammed a hoof onto the desk, rattling the cups and saucers.

“Calmez-vous, young master! This was your mother’s favorite tea set. You break it, I break you, oui? And I am certain I do not know what you mean, have the young ladies gotten in trouble?”

Crux sighed through his nose, exasperated. “No, Merlot they haven’t. Though perhaps it would be easier to speak with them if they had.”

The butler clicked his tongue comprehendingly. “Ah, je comprends. You have been rather awkward speaking to the filles of late, oui?”

“I’m afraid awkward doesn’t do it justice. Silver’s barely even looking at me anymore. I’ve only been their guardian for a week and I’m already making a royal mess of things.”

Merlot shook his head an amused smile on his face as he poured two cups of steaming tea. “It has only been a week, and you were expecting to have already grown as close as family? Ne soyez pas ridicule, young master.”

“Please don’t do that, you know I can’t understand a word of Prench.”

“That is why I do. Believe me, young master if your parents understood half of what I said in my native tongue I would have been fired long ago.”

The desk muffled Crux’s snort of amusement.

“Ah, he no longer mopes but manages a laugh! Nous devons célébrer!” The butler cheered condescendingly.

“Yes, keep it up and it won’t matter if I can understand you or not. I shall still fire you.” Crux tried stubbornly to keep his scowl but his butler’s joviality had worked its magic.

“Please, young master,” Merlot chuckled. “If you could get through a single day without moi I would gladly hand in my own resignation.”

The strong, sharp scent of peppermint assailed his nostrils as Merlot’s magic passed him a steaming cup.

“Mmm, peppermint, hmm? Was I really that out of sorts?” He breathed deeply of the calming mist as he blew gently on his drink.

“I’m afraid so young master, I did not even have to ask for it to be made. As soon as I entered the kitchens Madame Varnish thrust the tray in my hooves, and me out the door. Such power in a mare, I have never seen.” The butler’s eyes glazed over, seeing beyond the walls of the office.

“Easy, Merlot. Don’t you know what they say about employee relationships.” Crux smirked, taking a sip of his tea. The soothing taste of peppermint easing mind and body.

“Well, they can go soak their heads. I shall win that bountiful mare yet!” Merlot raised a challenging hoof to the ceiling.

The young lord shivered, despite the hot tea in his mouth. “Please don’t refer to my prior nanny and current maid as bountiful. I’d like to enjoy today’s dinner.”

“Ah, and speaking of dinner, it should be an excellent time to work on that family bond you so desire!”

Crux sighed, jettisoning a cloud of scented steam from his cup. “That’s just it, Merlot. I can’t seem to be able to accept them as family.” The lord’s ears drooped depressedly.

The butler smiled sadly, comprehending. “Oui, young master. That is also not surprising, but please try to keep in mind that the filles are not your parents’ replacements, nor should they ever be.”

Staring at the his desk the grey stallion could only nod slowly, feeling his dour mood begin to creep back upon him.

Merlot smiled brightly, if a bit forcefully, pouring himself a cup of tea. “Don’t be too concerned about your relationship with the girls, young master. Why, I am certain they’ll be breaking down your door to talk to you about all sorts of things any day now, non?”

The two stallions chuckled, the magic of silence, tea and companionship falling over the room, broken only by the sounds of pouring liquid and clinking spoons.

*SLAM*

“Mister Crux, come quick! Something’s happened to Olive!” Silver screamed, distressed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Earlier that day…

“Ugh,” Silver groaned.

She lay sprawled out on her bed, the comforters rumpled and scattered across the mattress in fluffy piles. 

Stealing a glance over to her roommate to see if she’d noticed, he ears flattened in annoyance as she saw Olive sitting in a padded chair by the veranda, her face still buried in her book.

“Ughhh.”

Olive’s ear twitched slightly, she drew her hardback closer to her muzzle; a shield between her and her fidgeting sister.

“Oliiive~!” The pegasus filly whined. “C’mon~! I’m so bored, can’t you put that book down and go do something with me?” She flopped around on the mattress, trying to draw the unicorn’s attention.

Her sister’s only response was hunching her withers, trying to force as much of her body behind the book and out of Silver’s line of sight as possible.

“Ughhhhhhhh-” Silver squeaked and broke off her groaning, ducking as Olive hurled a book at her head.

“Silver, would you shut up!? I am trying to read!”

The innocent hardback sailed harmlessly over Silver’s mane and slammed into the vanity table, knocking down mane-care products and combs. The fillies flinched as the sound of shattering glass cracked through the air.

Accompanied by tinkling shards of glass, the hardback flopped listlessly to the carpet, bemoaning its mistress’ cruel treatment.

Olive stepped down from her seat, taking hesitant, horrified hoofsteps over to the damaged vanity.

“Oooo, you’re in trouubleee~,” Silver taunted in a sing-song voice.

“B-but I-I didn’t mean to...and it’s also your fault!” She screeched, 

“Well, I don’t know about that. I wasn’t the one who threw a book at Granny’s make-up table.”

Olive huffed petulantly, picking up the offending novel in her magic. She gasped, horrified.

“Oh, no!”

Silver jumped down from her bed, her frizzy ponytail waving as she tilted her head curiously.

“I broke Miss Sable’s portrait of Mister Aurol!” The filly whimpered as the lipstick graced painting of the deceased husband slid off from the book’s bottom cover, accompanied by a few shards of glass.

The unicorn danced from hoof to hoof fretfully as she picked up the pieces of shattered frame, trying to halfheartedly piece them back together. Silver cantered over to get a better look at the emotional devastation before something caught her eye.

She blinked. “Ooh, and ya knocked a piece of wood out from underneath the table, too.” 

“What?!” The filly squeaked, galloping over to stick her head next to the pegasus’.

“Yeah, see? There’s this little panel hanging out from the bottom.”

A hinged, hanging cabinet had been knocked loose by the book’s impact. In the dimmer light under the vanity the girls could see it held a small, circular chest, the kind used to hold jewelry, and a note penned in hornwriting so lilting it was nearly illegible.

“I wonder what that could be,” Olive whispered, plucking the note from its hiding place with her magic. Her panic from the unintended destruction temporarily forgotten.

Silver pulled the small chest out with a wing, turning it over in her hooves.

“I don’t know, but I can’t open this thing. It’s locked.” She ran a pinion over the scrolling wheels of the chest’s combination lock.

Olive ‘hmm-ed’ thoughtfully as she read over the note:

A day I shall never forget, its memory shall live on in the darkest places of my heart and in the contents of this case.

Jet, my son. When you believe yourself ready, open this box.

“Miss Sable left this here for father. He’s supposed to open it.”

The filly turned to Silver, but was too late to notice the pegasus flinch at her statement.

“You said it was locked?”

“Yeah,” Silver said, biting her lip. “It’s got some kinda combination lock or something.” She flicked a feather against one of the sliding tumblers.

“ Ya don’t think her darkest day had anything to do with Gramps, do ya?” She gestured toward the forgotten picture on the carpet.

“I shouldn’t think so.” Olive mumbled, picking up the portrait in her aura and studying it. “I don’t think she would keep his picture on her vanity like- wait.”

Silver’s ears perked up as she glanced away from the container.

“Whadja find?”

The unicorn had turned the portrait backwards, squinting as she read the script hidden on the back.

“To my dearest Aurol, with all my love. Since the heart first began to watch over your people, forever after has our love grown.”

“Since the heart?” Silver asked, a confused expression on her muzzle as she tilted her head.

“Perhaps she meant the Crystal Heart. Remember, father’s parents were alive before the thousand year banishment of the Empire and were trapped in it as well, so they would have been alive when the Empire first made the heart.”

“Wow, I wonder when that wa-”

“Approximately 982 S.E.” Olive tapped her glasses up her nose smugly.

The filly rolled her eyes. “Of course, I’d only have to ask Madame Book...worm.”

Silver trailed off as her eyes were drawn down to the numbered rings on the chest’s surface. A mischievous grin wrinkled her muzzle.

“0 - 9 - 8 - 2.”

“What are you...doing!?” Olive gasped as the tumblers gave a faint click and the lid of the chest popped open with a small cloud of dust.

“Oh, yeah,” Silver sniffed. “I’m the greatest.”

“You weren’t supposed to open that! That was meant for father.”

“Would you stop calling him that?” Silver whimpered.

Olive raised a brow curiously. “What ever for?”

“Nevermind.” The pegasus mumbled as she flipped open the lid.

Her eyes widened in surprise as she beheld a teal crystal disc about the size of a small serving plate, but inscribed with carefully etched runes around the edge. It gave off a soft glow that shimmered with the colors of the rainbow.

“Whoa...pretty.”

“Don’t touch it!” Hissed Olive, smacking Silver’s hoof away. “You don’t know what it is!”

“Sowwy…,” Silver mumbled through her hoof as she held it in her mouth.

“But come on,” she squealed, pulling her hoof away from her mouth and waving it excitedly. “You can’t tell me your nerdy side isn’t interested in this thing.”

Olive sucked in a breath to respond but hesitated, biting her lip and looking away as Silver’s grin reached manic proportions.

“Maybe...just a little bit.”

“Yeah, see!?” Silver waved the crystal in front of her, clutched in a pinion.

The unicorn gasped. “Silver!” She scolded.

“What?” The filly shrugged.

Olive groaned and plucked the crystal disc from her grasp with a delicate magical field.

“Well...it’s obviously magical so if we wanted to know what it is, we should inspect it magically.” She said matter of factly.

“Well? Go on then horn-butt! Light ‘er up!” The filly squealed, her eyes shining in anticipation.

Olive rolled her hazel eyes but did as bid, her horn glowing with a forest green energy as it tapped gently against the disc.

Her eyes slammed shut and she let out a piercing cry as an explosion of light and sound went off behind her eyelids.

“Olive?!”

She heard Silver shriek, shouting for help when she didn’t respond.

The deep, bass rumble ripping through her made her bones rattle, and her ears rang as she let loose a pained scream.

“Sable! What are you doing?!”

A rough, gravelly voice echoed through her mind with the sound of an avalanche. She cried out again, covering her ears with her hooves to no avail; the sound wasn’t real, it was being projected into her thoughts by the strange magic of the crystal disc.

“I’m doing what I should have done to begin with, brother!” the strong voice of a mare reverberated through Olive’s skull. It seemed angry and frustrated, yet holding back so much sorrow and heartache that the unicorn could feel tears pricking behind her clenched eyelids. “You’ve gone mad! You knew that we were not meant to remain in contact with the Cradle for as long as you have. Without its heart to balance it, it’s nothing more than a wretched, hate-filled wound that infects everything around it.”

“Dumplin’!?” she made out Varnish’s shout. “What’s happened ta sweet-pea?!”

Silver’s reply was buried by the unmistakably male voice as it lashed out.

“Somepony had to do it, Sable! If not I or you, then who? Our father?”

The sound of a pony spitting in disgust sent the fur on Olive’s spine rising as a shiver wracked her body.

“ The weakling would have let the Cradle fester! Its anger would have waxed for millennia before crashing down over their Empire like a black tide.”

“Which is why we exist to watch over it! We were meant to protect the Cradle, keep it safe from itself and stop it from harming those ponies under our protection!”

“Hah! Those ponies are the reason for the Cradle’s pain, my pain! They were the ones who stole the Cradle’s  heart in the first place! Were it not for their greed, my heart would be at peace!”

The voice’s volume seemed to shake the walls as Olive screamed in agony, clutching her head. At the back of her mind, she could feel hooves shaking her shoulders, a panicked voice calling her name faintly.

“Dumplin...Master Crux...and Merlot! Quickly now!”

“Silver…” she managed to gasp out before the disembodied shouting began afresh.

“Listen to yourself, brother! T’was not your heart that was taken, it was the Cradle’s heart. It has blackened your mind, left its mark on your soul…” Sable hesitated, her voice wavering and cracking with suppressed emotion. “You’re not even a pony anymore, are you? Have you seen your eyes? You used to have such kind red eyes, now they hiss and spit hellish miasma like a pit hydra!”

“ Tis only further proof of my becoming the Cradle’s new heart. I am the harbinger of its anger, and I will show these crystal ponies the error of their ways! With the Cradle’s power backing me, I will crush their flimsy crystal bones under my hooves, not even their whore princesses will be able to stop me!”

Panting hard, Olive tried to catch her breath in a blessed moment of silence, the shouting having momentarily ceased.

“Nay, they will not,” Sable whispered. “Which is why I will have to.”

“Sable?,” the voice echoed, uncertainty peeking out in its gravelly voice. “Sable, answer me! What are you doing?”

“I am sealing the Cradle. I cannot allow you to use its power for evil purposes. Now that you have been so touched by its hatred, the family seals will no longer heed your call, and this place shall be sealed to time.”

“What?! You can’t simply seal the Cradle away, it is the heartwood of the Crystal Mountains itself! All you will achieve is placing a lid over it, eventually it will boil over.”

“Yes, I cannot think of a way to combat the heart as it is now. However, this way I will be able to buy time for those that might. For my child.”

“Olive?!” shouted what must have been Crux. He sounded as panicked as she felt.

…

“You are pregnant. With the foal of that filthy crystal stallion.” It hissed.

“Indeed. Aurol is the father of my child, our families and those of the crystal ponies...it is fitting that the two sides of this conflict come together to mend it, no?”

“You would betray your own brother for that crystal pony and his half-breed bastard?!”

“Yes! I love my Aurol, and I will love my foal! And if I have to, I will shield them with my own soul from the Cradle if need be!” Sable’s proclamation seemed to pierce through Olive’s scattered thoughts, clearing the agitated waters of her mind and warming her from her heart.

“Think you such an act of defiance will be capable of stopping the void left by the loss of the Crystal Heart?” It scoffed, its mocking laughter grating harshly on Olive’s ears, making her grit her teeth in frustration.

“I will do what I must, Sombra.”

As quickly as it began, it was over. Olive’s eyes snapped open, taking in the ponies standing over her; shocked and fearful expressions stamped on their muzzles.

“Olive?!,” Silver shrieked, tears in her eyes. “Are you okay? Can you hear me now?”

“Olive, what happened!?” Crux cried his horn aglow and holding the crystal disc, worry evident in his voice and intense frown.

“Sacre bleu, my dear. You were having quite the fit, non?”

“Oh, sweet-pea, thank goodness! I was worried sick, you were sreamin’ and hollerin’ a storm.” Varnish had grasped her apron in her hooves, wringing it out roughly in distress.

Her glasses were askew on her nose making it hard to focus on the ponies, but she didn’t have the strength to tap them back into place. 

Struggling she managed to turn her head to her sister. “Silver?,” she panted weakly.

“Yeah, what is it Olive?,” the pegasus asked, her brows wrinkled fiercely as she tried to blink away fresh tears.

“The...the next time we find a strange magic crystal...you’re investigating it first.”

She collapsed into Crux’s quick hooves as she promptly fainted.
> Rude Awakenings
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The insensate filly lay in bed, wrapped in a profusion of thick, fluffy comforters and surrounded by carts bearing trays filled with a plethora of sweet treats and teas courtesy of an entirely distraught Varnish. 

While the mare had distracted herself from her worry by baking hoards of cookie confections, Merlot had immediately taken it upon himself to rush out in search of a doctor. 

Even now the quiet, stoic faced earth pony hovered over Olive’s impromptu sickbay, a gleaming stethoscope clenched between his jaws and pressed to her chest as he listened intently to her breathing and heartbeat.

The medical professional grunted to himself as he packed away his instruments. “Well, ‘s near ‘s I can tell, the lass is fine. Physically speakin’, at least. Wha’ was it ya said did this again?” He glanced up curiously from his large bag packed with vials, bottles and needles.

“We are not entirely sure, doctor. It seems she collapsed after breaking some furniture.” He gestured with a hoof to the mistreated vanity, whose shattered glass trinkets had long since been cleaned away.

The stallion clicked his tongue against his teeth contemplatively. “Hmm, well I checked ‘er for any visible injuries, but there weren’t any ta speak of. If’n I had ta guess, I’d say t’was probably stress.”

“It has been a very busy week for the girls,” Crux commented offhandedly, rubbing his chin with a hoof.

“Yep, stress’ll catch ya unawares like that if yer not payin’ careful attention.” Tapping a hoof against the handle of his bag, his gaze turned to Olive sympathetically. “All I can recommend is ta let ‘er sleep it off. She’ll wake up when she’s ready, but make sure she’s in bed fer at least the rest of today.”

Crux nodded appreciatively. “ I shall make certain of it doctor, thank you for your time. Merlot, my butler will have your payment.”

With an appreciative tip of his redonned fedora, the stallion grabbed his bag in his teeth before stepping out of the room, the door closing behind him soon afterward with a soft click; the handle swathed in a green aura.

With a sigh, the noble ran a hoof through his mane, collapsing into a chair. Massaging the base of his horn to fight off a rising headache, he glanced out of the open veranda in an attempt to lighten his mood with a glimpse of the surrounding city soaking in bright sunshine.

“Why’d you lie to the doctor?”

A dull, aching pulse throbbed through his forehead as he inhaled deeply; a futile effort to siphon patience from the surrounding aether.

“I didn’t lie,” he grumbled. “I simply neglected to give him the entire story.”

“Same thing,” Silver muttered sullenly.

“And what would you have rather me told him?,” the irate stallion snapped. “Oh, doctor! I’m glad you’ve arrived. Please, these girls found and tampered with a dangerous magical object that left one unconscious after a violent conniption! Can you help?”

An oppressive silence descended on the room, broken only intermittently by brief staccatos of birdsong from the open window.

“I - I apologize. I hadn’t meant to snap like that, Silver.”

The filly pulled her protective shell of blankets tighter around her withers. Her eyes studiously avoided those of her apologetic guardian. “Whatever.”

Their space once more going quiet, Crux bit his lip and shut his eyes, silently congratulating himself on another job well ruined.

His self deprecating revelry was not to be, however, as the sounds of sniffling and muffled sobs graced his ears with the harshness of a slap across the muzzle. A wince flashed across his features as a particularly loud sob reached his notice.

“Of course she’d be crying. She’s just watched her sister in all but blood suffer through a near seizure and the only comfort she has received have been my pathetic ‘attempts’.”

Crux stared sadly at the shaking ball of covers.

“She probably blames herself.”

His own physical pain set aside in light of Silver’s obvious emotional ones, the young stallion extricated himself from his chair and moved over to the filly’s shelter. The bedframe gave a faint creak as his extra weight settled across the mattress.

Feeling exceedingly awkward, he gave the pile a rough approximation of a soothing pat.

He felt the flinch in response to his touch through the woven barrier and a small glow of satisfaction lit his mind as his efforts were rewarded with the sight of a pair of ears and a silver ponytail poking out of a gap in the blankets.

“What are you doing?” the filly mumbled thickly, giving a small sniff.

Crux squared his shoulders confidently. “Comforting you.”

Silver eyed him dubiously through puffy, red lids.

“Is it working?” he asked hesitantly.

A slow shake of her head was enough to deflate him where he sat.

“Mm, well I can’t exactly say I’m surprised. I never did spend much time gaining experience with such things.”

The pegasus scoffed as she wiped her eyes with the back of her hoof. “Why would you try to make me feel better anyways? It’s not like I deserve it, what with Olive layin’ there hur-”

“Now that’s enough of that.” He cut her off quickly with a rough shake of his head.

Crux glanced briefly at the green filly lying in bed. “You may not have ended up as the one bedridden, but from what I understand Olive participated equally in this ill-thought out venture and is just as much to blame for the results as you are.”

“It was foolhardy, yes, but the two of you came out of it...relatively unscathed. What’s done is done and I’ll not have you beating yourself up over this.”

Silver’s mouth sprung open with a fresh retort but was silenced by a piercing emerald glare. Giving a sullen huff, her eyes dropped to the floor.

“And as for why I would bother, well...you’re my family now. And correct me if I’m wrong but taking care of one’s family is what the head of the house does. Isn’t it?” With a hoof rubbing at his chin thoughtfully he muttered the question to himself as an aside, but the keen ears of a foal miss little.

“Isn’t it? You say that like you don’t have any idea how a father’s s’posed to act.”

The lord turned away from the filly’s searching gaze, his eyes roaming out the window toward the shining rooftops and puffing smokestacks.

“Honestly, Silver, I don’t.” Silver watched the stallion’s hooves rub together agitatedly, his brow furrowing.

“I spent nearly the entirety of my young life in this estate. I never interacted much with ponies other than the staff.”

“I went to public school for a time but, as you can no doubt guess, many ponies had the same reaction to me that you did. I was shunned and tormented for my appearance. This horn has done me very few favors.”

He bared his teeth in a bitter, crooked grin and tapped a hoof against his crystalline horn. The sound of a distant chime ringing filled the filly’s ears.

“After one too many such occasions my parents had me home schooled. Mother took up that duty, since Father was presiding lord at the time and his duties kept him very well buried in his work.”

“Eventually I needed no more schooling, yet I still saw so little of him what with the Tyrant’s assaults against the past Empire consuming the time of much of the ruling class.”

Crux seemed to notice his busy hooves for the first time and gave an empty laugh.

“Ironic that in my attempts to become closer to him, I had less time in which to do so. Now I find myself in need of him, of what he knew. How to trade fairly and still make a profit, how to deal with annoyances like Lady Torc and her ilk...how to care for children and ease their suffering.”

Silver stared as the pony seemed to fold in on himself.

“And yet reality does naught but remind me at every turn that he is gone. I buried him and my mother myself in a cemetery not an hour’s ride by coach from here. There were so many things I needed to ask him, to tell him.”

A hoof reached up to grasp at emerald eyes. “I didn’t even get to say goodbye, for Maker’s sake.”

He sighed heavily as he turned to Silver, the pegasus eyeing him in surprise.

“Then what should I receive in his final words, but a letter detailing a surprise addition to my suddenly empty house. Or should I say two.”

“So no, Silver, I have no idea how to be a father. I don’t know what to do now that I have a family of my own. It doesn’t help matters that I can barely look at you girls without stumbling over myself like an imbecile, either.”

“You’re not that bad, really.” the filly mumbled, a small smirk on her muzzle.

“I’ve been avoiding you two like the plague! You tried to bring me my tea with Varnish a few days ago. I panicked and slammed the door so hard in your faces I rattled the windows!”

An unexpected, yet not entirely unwelcome smirk wormed its way onto his face as Silver gave a small, helpless giggle.

“Y-yeah,” Silver snorted. “Or what about dinner two nights ago? You looked like Nightmare Moon had popped up in your face when Olive tried to give you a hug.”

Crux groaned. “Don’t remind me. I was terrified, and now Olive won’t get within a few feet of me.”

“You did kinda freeze up like you’d stayed out in the woods too long.” Silver smothered her giggling in a hoofful of comforter.

“That I did,” he chuckled weakly.

Taking a deep breath to still her mirth, the filly looked over at her her sister. “Don’t hold it against her. Olive’s just really touchy-feely like that. She’d probably like it if you could give her one sometime.”

“She’s having alotta fun with school and your library, Merlot’s really cool even if his accent is horrible and Varnish makes the best cookies. So I know she’s grateful.”

Silver ducked her head down shyly, fiddling nervously with a few of her pinions. “We both are, even if I don’t act like it.”

“Well, I can understand your reluctance. You’re a little hesitant to open up with me, much like I am with you two. What do you say we both simply try our best to open up as much as we can, even if it takes time?”

He gave an uncertain chuckle, running a hoof through his ruffled mane. “I must admit, I’m still uncertain as to whether I could accept being called dad yet.”

“Yeah, me too. Callin’ you dad I mean, not me being called dad. Not that I wouldn't want to eventually. But be a mother, I mean, not a father!  Cadance knows I could do it better than mine. I mean-”

Silver groaned and flopped back on the mattress in defeat as Crux laughed.

The stallion’s chuckling faded a he took on a more sympathetic tone.

“Would you like to talk about it?”

Bed sheets rustled dryly as she shook her head. “No, not yet. I don’t really wanna remember them.”

He nodded slowly. “I see. I understand, though I know from experience that talking about it can help. Perhaps one day, when we might trust each other more?” His magic levitated two cookies from a nearby platter loaded with Varnish’s get-well wishes.

Silver’s face was slowly lit by a warm smile as she clutched the proffered treat in her pinions. “I’d like that, Mr. Crux. We’ll seal the deal with cookies of peace!”

They punctuated her decree with a generous bite, eating the cookies whole in one motion.

The white flag of truce was ruffled however by the filly’s surprised and disappointed whine. Crux’s mouth being filled with confection, he settled for raising an eyebrow curiously.

“Peashe tashtes like raishins!”

Giving a final slow chew and swallowing, he glanced at the platter of confections. “Do you not like oatmeal raisin?”

“Thoshe are old pony cookiesh!” The filly flapped her hooves in distress as she grudgingly finished the baked bad. “Nopony likes raisins!”

“I like oatmeal raisin!,” the stallion huffed petulantly.

“Yeah, that figures.” Silver giggled, rolling her eyes as she poured a glass of water from the bedside table.

Crux crossed his forelegs, a stern, furrowed brow warring with a crooked smile. “And just what exactly are you implying, young lady?”

“She’s insinuating that you’re a stuffy old pony trapped in a younger stallion’s body.”

“Olive!” Both ponies leaped from the bed to the side of the groggy filly rubbing her eyes with her hooves.

“You’re awake,” Silver squealed. “Are you feeling alright, do you need anythin’?”

The unicorn grumbled something unintelligible as she waved a hoof toward the pegasus.

“Whazzat?”

“I need my glasses, I can’t see without my glasses.” She blinked owlishly for emphasis, her hazel eyes seeming almost cartoonishly small without her customary lenses magnifying them out of proportion.

“Olive, my dear. I’m glad you are once more among the wakeful.” Crux chuckled as Olive slipped on her glasses, smiling warmly if sleepily from her recumbent position.

“Yes, I’m awake now. I had the strangest dream, though. Curious.”

“Strange? How strange?” Crux sat down next to the fillies on the edge of the bed as Olive took a deep breath.

“I dreamt that I could hear Miss Sable arguing with somepony. He sounded really angry when she started talking about you and Mister Aurol.”

“About Father and I?” He rubbed his chin, his brow cinched in contemplation.

She nodded as well as she could with Silver gripping her head in a crushing hug. “Indeed, they were also talking about the Crystal Heart and he kept calling it his heart. There was also something about a baby’s cradle, I think.” She frowned, puzzled.

“A cradle?” Crux tilted his head to the side curiously.

“Yes, Miss Sable said she was going to seal it off so he- Sombra!” The filly shouted in surprise, throwing her smiling parasite off in her haste to sit up.

“Uncle? What of him?”

“He was the one Miss Sable was-what?”

An incredulous cry came from down on the carpeted floor. “Uncle?”

Crux clicked his tongue. “Ah, that’s right. I never did tell you girls, did I?”

“Sombra was your uncle?,” Silver asked incredulously as she dragged herself off the floor, her eyes wide.

Olive turned pages feverishly in a book that appeared to have materialised in her hooves. “That wasn’t in my studies of your family history,” she muttered.

“Yes, he is. What, you didn’t recognize the family resemblance?” The noble smirked before his lips curled in a vicious snarl and he growled menacingly.

“Crysstals!” he shouted.

Both fillies shrieked in terror. Silver dove under the covers as Olive whacked him in the horn with her heavy text.

“Ow!” 

“Sorry!,” Olive whimpered.

“Ha! Serves you right!,” came a muffled huff.

Crux rubbed at his horn tenderly, flinching as the nerves in his forehead alerted him to his previously forgotten condition.

“I’d forgotten about that headache…”

“Sorry!,” Olive cried again, hiding her face behind The Crux Family, A History.

“Where’d you learn to make your voice rumble and hiss like that?” Silver peeked carefully over the edge of her hidey hole. 

“It’s genetic,” the lord mumbled, cracking his eyes open as the pain dulled to tolerable levels. 

“The rumble and amplification is just a spell any unicorn of acceptable talent can replicate. I believe a new princess in Equestria does much the same. The hissing however, is something my mother used to do on occasion when she was angered.”

“Whoa...so that means Sombra is our great-uncle?,” Silver asked, wide-eyed.

Olive nodded, tapping her glasses. “That seems to be the logical assumption.”

“Would have been your great uncle. Sombra has been long buried in all but name and memory. Best left that way as well, believe you me. I know a few older lords who could curl your hooves with stories from before the Passing*.”

A loud knock on the door interrupted their talk as they turned to see a well-groomed green mane poking its head through the door.

“Ah, young master. Forgive me, s’il vous plait but we heard your shout and became just the smallest bit concerned, oui? Madame Varnish may have had flashbacks.”

Crux winced. “Ah, my apologies Merlot. I was just teasing the girls a bit. Please, tell Varnish that it was my fault, there is nothing to worry about.”

“Oui, young master. I also have more to tell you however, you have a letter from Monsieur Godric.”

“Godric?” He blinked.

“Oui. Would you like me to leave it in your study?”

He nodded, holding his head. “That sounds agreeable, Merlot, thank you. Oh, and could you have tea sent up. With painkillers as well.”

The butler nodded, closing the door with barely a sound and rushing off to the kitchens.

“Well, if that letter is from Godric it must be important. He rarely ever writes, you know; he prefers to visit.”

“That sounds interesting. If you will be doing that, I suppose it wouldn’t be too much to ask for me to see that crystal disc again? No touching of course, I learned my lesson. Just observing.”

Crux put a firm hoof on her chest as she went to rise from bed, pressing her down into the mattress.

“No, there will be none of that, Olive. You’re to stay in bed and rest for at least another day. Doctor’s orders, I’m afraid,” He smirked.

“In the meantime,” he continued, ignoring Olive’s look of crushing disappointment. “That disc is staying where I put it until I find out what to do with it, and more importantly, where you girls will never find it.”

“Is that a challenge?,” Silver smirked.

Crux snorted. “No, that’s an order. No snooping.” He wagged a hoof in front of them.

The pegasus huffed as Olive nodded, contrite.

“I’ll see you girls at dinner.” He made to shift off of the bed before a small, green hoof grabbed his coattail.

“Wait, if I am to be confined to bed, how will I go to dinner?,” Olive asked.

Crux blinked in surprise before his brow furrowed. “Ah, yes. That is a problem. I’ll just have Varnish serve dinner here in your room.”

“Will you eat here with us?”

Silver and Olive stared at him imploringly as he hesitated.

“I’ll make sure not to try and hug you again,” Olive promised, holding a hoof in the air in solemn vow.

The fillies gasped as he hesitated again only briefly before pulling them into an awkward hug, nuzzling their manes with his chin. Shocked, Silver could only numbly return the surprise show of affection as Olive squealed quietly,hugging enthusiastically.

“I would love to join you girls for dinner.” 

Crux held them for a time before a sudden sniff interrupted the moment.

They turned to see a teary-eyed Varnish wiping her eyes on a hoofkerchief as she pushed a cart filled with tea and another plate of steaming cookies.

“Ain’t that just tha most heartwarmin’ thing I’ve ever seen.”

The ponies broke the hug immediately, Crux and Silver rubbing their necks awkwardly as the stallion stepped forward, making to exit the room.

“Erm, yes well. Thank you for bringing the girls refreshments Varnish, but try not to spoil their dinner if you would. Speaking of which, we’ll all be taking dinner here in the girls room, since Olive is confined to bed.”

“Sure thing, sir. I’ll have everythin’ set up for tha three o’ ya.”

Crux nodded as Varnish began passing out cups of tea, Olive blowing on hers and taking dainty sips.

“Cookies, huh?,” Silver drawled, eyeing the treats suspiciously.

“Yep, fresh outta the oven, dumplin’.”

“They wouldn’t be...oatmeal raisin, would they?” The pegasus seemed to hiss the dreaded fallacy’s name.

“Um...no. They’re chocolate chip. Why’re ya askin’?”

“Oh, nothin’ really. I just don’t wanna eat any more old pony cookies.”

An aggrieved shout echoed back from the hallway.

“They’re not old pony cookies!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Crux sighed in relief as he took a sip of his tea. If there was one thing he could say about this new era over that of the pre-Passing, it was that their advancements in medication were astounding. 

While he basked in the feeling of a narcotically eased cranium, he spun the sealed envelope in his magic, eyeing it curiously. Merlot had told him earlier that a pegasus had arrived carrying the letter in his saddlebags and had stayed only long enough to ensure that Crux would receive it immediately before rushing off again.

“Uncle Godric never was one to write letters.”

The paper crinkled as a thin blade of magic cut under the wax seal and unfolded the hoofwritten parchment.

“I wonder what could be so important as to warrant a note and have him not meet me in person.”

Dear Jet,

I hope this letter finds you well. 

I must apologize for the sudden arrival of this letter by courier, but I needed a way to ensure this letter would make it to you untampered with. 

“Untampered?” Crux snorted, as he scanned the page. “He makes it seem as if someone would be trying to intercept his letters.”

I was enjoying a nice read of this new book my son’s been interested in, Daring Do I believe, a rather interesting tale by all accounts. But I digress.

I was reading earlier this morning when an old trinket of mine given to me by your parents suddenly flashed bright enough to nearly blind me. An old crystal disc. I assume by now you know what I’m talking about, so I’ll skip to the heart of the matter.

Have you listened to your disc? You should, before anything else happens. I’ve recently had a break-in here in my house, of all things. And yet, not a single thing was out of place except in my office. 

It was positively ransacked, my table overturned, bookcases cleared, and even my antique collection. All of it demolished. They hadn’t taken the disc, so I assume the bunglers didn’t know what exactly it is they were looking for.

Jet, I’ll make this as clear as I can.  Somepony is looking for these discs. There have been rumors spreading among the lords of similar break-ins and Torc, Jasper and the other troublemakers have been speaking with one of the contemporary lords. A Lord Calister, I believe. I’ll be honest, I don’t like what I’ve seen of them, they’re planning something or my name’s not Lord Godric Spinel.

Listen to your disc and then join me at my estate as soon as you can. I need to give you this one as well, hopefully before my home is ransacked yet again. 

I’ll be awaiting your arrival.

Uncle Gaudy

Crux set the letter down on his desk, rubbing a hoof against his chin. Somepony had tried to steal Godric’s disc. And on top of that, there were more of the damnable things and his parents had given one of them to Uncle Godric? 

He’d been curious as to what, exactly, the disc was supposed to do but he’d been hesitant after seeing what it had done to Olive. 

Though now it seemed, he had little choice. Godric was requesting that he arrive as soon as possible to receive a second disc after ‘listening’ to his own.

His eyes roamed to a large globe set on a rotating stand surrounded by padded chairs.

The wheeled desk chair squeaking as his weight left it, he strode over to the globe and stared intently at its painstakingly etched and painted surface.

A wavering green light lit the walls as his horn flared. Coalescing into a point in front of him, the telekinetic force pressed lightly against the carved country of the Crystal Empire.

With a barely audible click, the lacquered wood depressed into the globe. The sound of whirring clockwork mechanisms emanated from the hollow structure as it popped open at its equator, revealing the crystal disc placed delicately on a cushion along with a few other precious objects.

As the disc was enveloped in a smoky green aura and pulled from its hidden confines it gave off a bright pulse of light, as if in response to his touch.

Returning to his chair, Crux stared contemplatively at the disc. It’s reflective edges inscribed with glowing runes that gave off a rainbow sheen of energy. It made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up as his horn seemed to resonate in time with the pulses of light.

Steeling himself, the stallion pressed the tip of his horn to the disc. His eyes slammed shut as an explosion of sound and light erupted behind his eyelids.

“Sable! What are you doing?!”
--
“The weakling would have let the Cradle fester!”
--
“...betray your own brother for that crystal pony and his half-breed bastard?!”
--
“I will do what I must, Sombra.”

Crux’s eyes snapped open as he sucked in a breath. His heart hammered wildly behind his ribcage as he shakily pulled himself up into a sitting position. It seemed that while he was ‘listening’ he’d fallen out of his chair and wound up on the floor.

Scattered remnants of the visions ran through his mind at a rapid pace. The warm, comforting memory of his mother’s voice played counterpart to the growling, vicious rumble of what he now realized was the voice of his infamous uncle.

“So mother sealed this ‘Cradle’ off from Sombra’s influence, hmm? And it was the original resting place of the Crystal Heart. This raises more questions than it answers. What did Mother do to sever his connection with this Cradle and how did it affect him. And where was Father during all of this?”

His thoughts whorled around in his skull, dancing from one tangent to the next and how it all related to this Cradle. He now knew the origins of the Crystal Heart, but the disc answered little aside from that. 

In one such line of thinking he remembered that Princess Cadance had used the Heart to defeat Sombra. If it were a part of the Cradle which strengthened him, how could it have been used against him? Was it because he’d been ‘cut-off’ so to speak?

“Perhaps Godric’s crystal will give me more to work with.”

Wiping a forelimb across his sweaty forehead, Crux grasped the crystal disc lying on the desktop in his wavering aura and wobbled unsteadily over to the globe, placing it back in its resting place and closing the hidden compartment with a click and the soft whir of clockwork gears.

Suddenly finding his legs threatening to give out on him, he sat down in one of the globe’s padded chairs. Levitating his tea cup over to him he took an absent sip, only to grimace as he found the liquid stone cold.

“I may enjoy peppermint tea, but I find it absolutely repulsive when cold,” he muttered to himself, placing the cup back on the desk before quenching his magic.

“I will need time to recover from that. Small wonder Olive passed out like she did, I feel as drained as if I’d hoof-fought the Princesses themselves.”

He snorted in amusement as the mental image of him trading blows with Princess Luna flashed through his mind.

“Something tells me they would be hard to best. I wouldn’t put it past the Princess of the Moon to have a mean right hook.” A crooked grin split his muzzle as he entertained the train of thought. “Not to mention Celestia. I wonder if she would be as tough a fighter as she is a negotiator.”

The creak of protesting wood reached his ears and stole him from his thoughts.

“Young master, I have come to inform you that Madame Varnish has finished preparing your dinner and- sacre bleu! Young master, what in the name of the Maker has happened to you? You are as pale as a sheet!”

“Ah, Merlot. Excellent timing,” the stallion drawled nonchalantly. “Thank you for alerting me of the time. I would be deeply appreciative if you would help me get there, I’m afraid I’m not entirely certain I can walk.”

“Are you well, young master? You look as though you would be better off in bed, non.” The butler gave his lord a concerned look as Crux panted heavily, a film of sweat shining on his forehead. 

“It was that devilish crystal discus, was it not young master? I told you it would be dangerous if you were not careful with it, non?”

“Don’t worry so much, Merlot. I’ll be fine. A filling meal and a full night’s sleep and I’ll be right as rain. I have to be at Uncle Godric’s estate in the next few days, however. His letter was urgent.”

“Ah, I assume he had telling information about said crystal?”

“Indeed, it appears he has a second and if there are two, there are likely even more.”

“I see. Well, if you are certain you can do without your bed, shall we get you out of here?”

“Oh, believe me Merlot. I look forward to retiring tonight, but for now I have dinner to attend with my daughters. And this is one dinner I will not be absent for!”

Merlot smiled indulgently. “Oui, Madame Varnish told me of your progress with the young ladies. Congratulations, sir.”

Crux coughed, waving a hoof dismissively. He was thankful for the dark coat that well hid his embarrassment.

“She didn’t tell anyone else did she?,” he asked quietly.

“Of course not sir, an honorable mare such as the Madame would not do such a thing.” The purple stallion smirked as the lord sighed in relief. “That is why I did.”

“What?!”

“The staff are very proud of you, young master.” The butler’s smirk remained as he pulled the sputtering young lord to his hooves.

“Now come, to dinner, oui?”
> Old Friends
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“This weather has to let up sometime.”

Gravel crunched under iron-shod hooves as the the creaking wheels of the lord’s most recent transportation was pulled unceremoniously away by its two drivers who wanted nothing more than to get out of the ferocious downpour.

“Thoroughly miserable weather,” Crux muttered as he stared up at the overcast sky. Roiling thunderheads the color of freshly forged steel stretched across the sky of his uncle’s town, sealing out the light of any but the brightest of the nearby streets’ oil lampposts.

His magic drew the collar of his decidedly too thin coat up higher around his neck as his hooves drew him off of the gravel and closer to the smoother cobblestone just short of the building’s steps.

Normally when a lord has arrived slightly later than is approved by polite society, proper etiquette allows three solid knocks to announce one’s presence. However when three solid knocks does not draw an immediate response while said lord is standing soaked and shivering in rain a few degrees short of being snow, he may suddenly find himself deprived of any amount of patience.

*Bang, Bang, Bang, Ba-*

The abused hardwood flew open under his hoof as a seething earth pony with an immaculately styled handlebar moustache stared at him.

“Lord Crux,” he seethed through clenched teeth and forced joviality. His moustache bristled like an indignant feline.

“Barnaby, excellent.” Crux neatly sidestepped the livid butler and stood dripping in the foyer, stripping off his cloak as fast as possible. “Glad to see you’re keeping me waiting, just like always. And in such lovely weather, no less! It gladdens my heart to know that no matter how many years go by, my uncle still won't get rid of you. It's comforting to have at least one thing in your life resistant to change.”

“Likewise, sir.” Smiling warmly, cheeks rosy with suppressed venom, the ponyservant gently snatched Crux’s coat from his hooves. “Please, let me get that for you sir. If I may say sir, I am greatly pleased you arrived safely, five hours late. My lord and lady have been expecting you.”

“I should hope so, Barnaby. My uncle was the one to send for me and it would be an absolute tragedy that I should have had to stand out in the rain and have the pleasure of your company for no reason whatsoever.”

“Of course, sir. If you will follow me, I will escort you to them.” With a stiff tilt of the head that might have passed as a bow, the stallion swept off down a hallway with his guest close on his heels.

His uncle’s house hadn’t changed at all he decided as Barnaby led him past pristine busts of strong-jawed earth ponies. Whereas his mother had enjoyed livening the halls with vases of flowers that fit each hall’s themes, Uncle and Auntie preferred to keep their estate as formal as possible. Where there wasn’t a bust, there were old wooden carvings and thickly stuffed furniture and where they were both lacking, a pony could safely bet on the appearance of a suit of armor from the old era.

“Auntie really hasn’t done much with the place, has she?” Crux mumbled to himself as his business-like stride took him swiftly past one ancestor’s chin to the next.

He always felt the need to suppress a grimace as he passed the face of his uncle’s great-grandmother.

“Now that’s a chin.”

“The Madame’s family has a long and upstanding history of propriety in all things, especially when it comes to the state of their abode.” 

The bristling butler stopped in front of a familiar wide, modestly carved wooden door bowing deeply as he opened it. “Unlike some families I could mention,” he muttered under his breath.

A mirthless smile stretching his lips, Crux swept past the portal and its irksome operator and stepped into his uncle’s study.

He’d always felt it could have passed as some sort of novelty shop, if he were completely honest.

Being careful to try not to drip too often on his aunt’s sickeningly colorful throw rugs, he trotted past walls whose bright orange paint was barely visible through gaps in between the bookcases and shelves that lined the walls.

The shelves were filled with his uncle’s assorted ‘antiques’. Gathered objects from a lifetime of traveling and sightseeing. Miniature models of the Crystal Palace stood next to statues of Celestia and Luna, and old silver war medals from centuries past hung immaculately polished in glass cases. A wide variety of model airplanes and gliders hung suspended from the ceiling on delicate wires.

Snowglobes of Celestia’s Statue in Manehatten swirled with magically enchanted flakes next to a hat with a bright yellow #1 stitched into its front and its accompanying foam finger. Souvenirs from the Empire’s last hosting of the Equestria Games.

A broad, polished oak desk rested in front of a tall window that stretched to the ceiling, the inky skies leaving the impression of an open portal to the void. Seated at the desk was a familiar sight that somewhat eased Crux’s irritation.

A stallion sat bowed over his desk, fiddling with the assorted pieces of what appeared to be his latest model airplane project. The older earth-pony’s ruddy orange coat wrinkled around his eyes as his brow furrowed in concentration. He clenched a small screwdriver between his teeth as he carefully drove a screw into a piece of the plane’s wheel axle. 

Seated next to him with her back pressed against his side, a fair peach colored mare sat reading a book as she hummed a slow tune. The sound seemed to fill the large room and gave the clashing colors a sense of unity in their collective madness.

They looked so happy sitting there together that it warmed Crux’s heart to see them.

A pity the rest of him was freezing.

Clearing his throat loudly, Crux arched a brow and smirked. “I’m not interrupting anything of world-shattering proportions, am I?”

The sound of his voice broke their reverie as his aunt gave a little gasp of surprise. Godric dropped his screwdriver and in a mad bid to catch it, slammed his head into the desk, rattling the model pieces.

“Oh, Nephew! You’ve arrived, how wonderful!” The mare swept around the table while her husband sullenly rubbed his forehead.

“We haven’t seen you since the emergency meeting. How are you?” She smiled warmly.

“Soaking wet and freezing, Auntie.” He smirked, tightening his lips in an attempt to keep his chattering teeth hidden. With a worried ‘tsk’ she hurriedly pushed him into a chair and he hissed as his wet clothing pressed against the parts of his body that had managed against all odds to remain somewhat warm.

“You just sit there and I’ll have the maids prepare a bath.” Her horn gave off a rosy light as a rope in the corner was pulled.

“Did Barnaby not offer you a bath?” Godric asked, quirking a brow before flinching and pressing at it gingerly with a hoof.

“No, and even if he had I trust that pony as far as I could throw him,” Crux scoffed.

His aunt’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Has he been giving you trouble again?”

“No more than he always has Auntie, only the casual insults and thinly-veiled malice as usual.”

Crux turned to his frowning uncle and grinned. “When are you going to get rid of that butler of yours?”

Godric leaned back in his chair and huffed through his nostrils. “I won’t and you know exactly why.” He smiled as his nephew rolled his eyes. “Barnaby’s the best I’ve got and it’s no fault of mine that your father swept Merlot out from under my hooves. Unless, of course, you can sweeten the deal?” He grinned, chuckling.

“Unfortunately for you, I like Merlot more than I dislike your butler. And it’s not my fault you lacked Varnish and father didn’t.” He smirked.

Godric shook his head in feigned irritation. “If only I’d known having ‘bountiful’ maids would strengthen my grip on prench butlers.”

He laughed loudly as the gray pony shivered in his seat from more than the cold.

“How do you know about that?”

Leaning back and crossing his hooves, the orange pony frowned admonishingly. “Well, since a certain nephew of ours has neglected to send us old folk any letters letting us know how he’s doing, Merlot has been kindly updating me on your situation.” He paused to rub at his chin amusedly. “That includes waxing eloquent about Varnish, apparently.”

“It’s not even been a month, Uncle,” Crux deadpanned.

“A lot can happen in a month!” His aunt swept back away from the door and stood next to her husband’s desk, a slightly disappointed pout emphasizing the thin wrinkles around her eyes.

“Even something like adopting two young ladies into your family and not telling your auntie.” Her gaze bored into him like a team of jewel frenzied diamond dogs.

Even the droplets of water caught in his coat felt as though they froze when pinned under the piercing eyes of his stern-faced aunt. Sinking slightly in his chair, he rubbed a hoof through his damp mane and avoided eye contact.

“I see Merlot mentioned that as well.”

Laughing loudly, Godric waved a hoof at his wife. “Come now, Rose. No need to terrorize the poor colt.”

Rose Quartz turned her stare onto her husband whose ruddy orange coat turned a much lighter shade under his wife’s steely gaze.

“I want to meet them,” she announced to the room at large.

“And I would be glad to have you over one day for just that! Perhaps after we finish whatever this business is?”

Crux breathed a silent sigh of relief as his aunt smiled, seemingly pleased with his answer.

“That sounds wonderful, but first we get you clean and warmed up. I assume your carriage is in the stables and it has your luggage?”

One hot bath and a clean change of clothing later, Crux and his hosts had managed to make themselves much more comfortable and his aunt’s furniture was in much less danger of water damage.

“Let nopony ever question your hospitality, Uncle.” Crux sighed contentedly as Godric chuckled and puffed gently on a pipe clenched between his teeth. "But now that the pleasantries are out of the way, I would ask that we get down to why I’m here. I hope you understand that I wish to keep this visit as brief as possible.”

Nodding sadly, his uncle gestured vaguely with his pipe to Crux’s person. “I assume by now that you’ve listened to your disc, then?”

Crux nodded as memories of his mother’s argument with Sombra echoed through his mind, he rubbed at the base of his horn as it gave off faint pangs of phantom aches.

“So you know of what your parents wanted you to see.” It was more of a statement of fact than any sort of question, but the young stallion nodded again regardless.

“Then everything’s going according to your parent’s requests. Now…,” Godric spun about in his chair and wrenched open a stubborn drawer under his desk before withdrawing a small satchel and placing it on the open desktop between them.

“I have in my possession, a few pieces of inheritance that your parents wanted left with me.”

Giving the satchel’s drawstrings a few quick tugs it opened enough for him to slip in a hoof. “The first of which, is this.”

Delicately, Crux took a small, black metal medallion into his magic.

It was a curious trinket. Made of a dull, black metal that seemed to reflect as little light as possible, it hung from a thick chain made of what appeared to be steel. Its most interesting aspect however, was the medallion’s roughly carved design.

“This looks like my mother’s crest.”

Godric nodded, chewing on his pipestem. “Yes, I believe your mother had a similar necklace?”

Tracing the medallion’s features with his eyes, Crux gave an affirmative grunt. “She did indeed. One made of silver, if I recall correctly. I keep it in my office.”

“Don’t let it out of your sight,” Rose stressed, taking her seat next to her husband. “From what Sable told me, they’re two of a set.”

“I’ve never seen this on either of my parents.To which did it belong?”

“Neither,” his uncle grunted, puffing a cloud of smoke into the air. “That necklace belonged to your uncle.”

As Crux inspected the trinket with newfound interest, Godric cleared his throat and tapped the desk. “And the second is this charming little bauble.”

Giving an amused snort as he glanced up from the necklace. “What, first you give me a possession of the Black Tyrant himself, and all that's left is a little bauble? Haven't you ever heard of saving the best for la—”

The medallion gave a thump as it slipped from his wavering aura and landed on the carpet.

Crux’s blood ran cold as he stared into a void of seething black mist that glared at him with lurid red eyes.

“Ah, the prodigal son sits before Us at last. Long has your mother kept you from Us, but We are not one to be denied for long. Greetings, Jet.”


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Olive, we really shouldn’t be doing this.”

“Oh, come now. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“You could end up in a coma? Again?” Silver asked incredulously. The two fillies were tiphoofing down the hallway from their bedroom. The light of Luna’s crescent moon providing illumination just barely bright enough to see their way around the tables and vases that stood in their path.

“Please, the chances of that are astronomical. This time I know what it is, and I know more of what I’m doing.”

“Olive, if we knew what we were doing we’d be in bed dreamin’ about cookies and Prancy Drew instead of whisperin’ in the dark so Merlot doesn’t catch us.”

“You dream about Prancy Drew?” The flash of light off of the unicorn’s teeth betrayed her grin as she looked over her shoulder.

“O-only sometimes,” the pegasus mumbled.

She huffed as Olive giggled. “I don’t think you have any room to laugh at me for dreamin’ about storybook ponies.” Ducking under a chair to avoid a possibly incriminating beam of moonlight streaming in through a window she smiled evilly in the dark.

“Who was that one pony in your Roaman books you had a crush on?,” she hummed mockingly, tapping a hoof on her chin.

“Don’t say it,” the unicorn hissed.

“Hockules?” She cooed to herself in a sickeningly sweet tone of voice. Imagining Olive’s sudden resemblance to a tomato, she snickered.

“Shh.”

“He was really muscly wasn’t he?”

“Shh!” Olive pressed a hoof up against Silver’s lips as the sound of somepony other than two huddling fillies bounced down the hall to their alert ears.

Whistling a quick, jaunty melody, Merlot moved slowly down the corridor with a lit candlestick. Double-checking the locks on windows and doors as he moved steadily down the hall, he failed to notice a pair of wide eyes staring out after him from inside a suit of armor.

The suit’s barrel rattled. “Is he gone?”

“I believe so.” Metal creaking as Olive turned to look after the fading light of Merlot’s candle, the unicorn lifted her visor and breathed a sigh of relief. 

“Well, awesome. Can ya get off of my head now?”

Continuing their ill-considered venture to the room just down the hall, the fillies endeavored to leave everything looking as untouched as possible. Merlot probably wouldn’t wonder too much about why the suit’s helmet was on backwards anyway.

“This is such a bad idea.”

Giving her glasses a firm tap, Olive giggled. “It’s strange. Usually I’m the one saying that.”

Silver groaned as she hopped over a roll in the carpet, flapping her wings for added lift.“Then listen to your own advice!”

“But I just have to inspect that disc again! I’ve never heard of an object inscribed with magic to relate memories. It’s positively fascinating!” She squealed quietly.

“Such an egghead.”

With a disgruntled ‘hmmph’, silence reigned in the dark until the duo finally stopped in front of the wooden bastion of Crux’s office.

The silence remained unbroken for several moments as they stared at the door.

“Well...go on. Open it.”

“What, me? You’re the one who dragged us down here, you open it.”

With a huff Olive grasped the handle in her magic and gave it a sharp twist and tug. Giving no more than a faint clack as the handle jammed halfway down, the filly frowned disappointedly.

“It’s locked.”

“Oh boy, what a shame.” Silver gave a jaunty salute with her wing as she spun around to trot away. “I guess we’ll just have to go back to be—”

“Pick it.”

The pegasus blinked incredulously at the commanding glare issuing from her bespectacled Don Capony.

“What?”

“You heard me. Pick it. I know you can, how else did you get into the pantry the other night?”

“There’s a little difference between pickin’ a pantry lock and the door to a bigwig’s office,” she grumbled.

Glaring out from behind her glasses, the unicorn thrust a hoof imperiously at the door.

Sighing in defeat, the pegasus trotted past her tyrannical sibling. “Fine, fine. Keep your saddle on.”

Trying her best to ignore Olive’s victorious smirk, the filly stopped in front of the door and fished around in her feathers. Olive looked on curiously, her mouth in a small ‘o’ of interest as Silver pulled pieces of a bobby pin out of her feathers and went to work on the door’s lock.

Bracing herself on the hardwood, the filly gave the stuck pins deft twists and turns with her dextrous pinions. Jiggling the metal a few final times, the inner mechanisms gave a soft click and swung open as the pegasus pulled on the now fluidly turning handle.

“There,” Silver mumbled through the pins clenched in her teeth.

Weaving the metal back through her feathers, she looked up to see Olive tapping her glasses further onto her muzzle with a serious glint in her eyes.

“Whatsa matter?”

“I must make certain we train you to use your powers for good and not evi-iiil”

The unicorn squealed as Silver swatted her on the rump with a wing, pushing her into the office.

“Oh shut up and get in there already.”

Olive had to admit, even with her begrudging sister by her side it was a lot spookier in the dark office than she had thought it would be.

She had never thought herself claustrophobic, but from the filly’s shorter perspective the towering bookshelves and straight-backed chairs set strategically around the room seemed to loom over her like wooden giants.

The light of the moon streaming in through the room’s only window only served to give the furniture elongated shadows that stretched over the walls, giving her the feeling of being watched.

Standing entirely rigid as her eyes darted around the room for a less nefarious looking spot to begin her search, she gave a small squeak as Silver sighed behind her.

“Don’t tell me you got cold hooves after I just committed breaking and entering.”

“The law doesn’t consider it breaking and entering if it’s your own house,” Olive admonished in a whisper, her eyes still whipping every which way as she decided the safest bet to find the disc was to stand as perfectly still as possible.

“Well Varnish wouldn’t like it. And in the land of the cookie-less, the spatula’d baker is queen. And the queen is the law!” The unicorn rolled her eyes, trying her best not to giggle at Silver’s fearful imaginings of Varnish’s stated punishment of a day without treats of any kind.

Her irrational fear temporarily forgotten thanks to her sibling’s antics, Olive took a deep, steadying breath and trotted deeper into the room, Silver close on her heels.

“Any idea where he’d keep it?” Silver asked.

“If I had to guess, I would say he probably has some sort of hidden safe or lock-box in here somewhere.” Olive hopped up into the swiveling chair behind the desk and began rummaging through the drawers.

“Ooh, maybe one of these books is actually a secret switch to an underground vault!” Excitement at the possibility of hidden secrets overcame the filly’s apprehension as she dove at the nearest bookcase and began pulling books off the shelves at random.

“Silver, we’re on the second story,” Olive sighed, a slight smile creasing her muzzle.

The pegasus hurled a book of poetry over her shoulder and waved her hoof dismissively. “Details, details.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I’ve gotta hand it to him, he’d probably be really good at hide and seek.”

The two fillies lay slumped against each other on the floor. Their spot the only clear ring of space on a carpet buried under tossed books and scattered paperwork.

Silver sighed and gave a discarded glass paperweight a half-hearted kick and watched it roll an unsatisfyingly short distance as Olive wiped her glasses on her coat despondently.

“There has to be somewhere we have yet to look.”

Rubbing her eyes as she rose to her hooves, Silver grabbed a book in her pinions and began placing them back on the shelves. “We searched the place top ta bottom, Olive. If we’re gonna search any more we might as well cover the whole Crystal Empire while we’re at it.”

The unicorn huffed and levitated a few scattered papers back into a pile and placed them on the desk. “You don’t think he actually hid it in the Crystal Empire or something, do you. Like in the globe or something, maybe?”

Silver paused in her placing another novel on the shelves as she squinted suspiciously at the object in question.

…

“Nah, that’d be pretty obvious even for him.”

“Yes, I thought so too.”

The fillies worked in silence as they slowly restored the office to a semblance of order. Silver gave a mighty yawn as Olive finished placing the glass paperweight back on the desktop and hopped off of the chair.

“We should probably head back to bed. We wouldn’t want Merlot to catch u—”

The ponies froze as the sound of hooves outside the door sent icy spiders crawling up and down their spines.

The rattling of the doorknob as it turned broke Silver from her shock as she grabbed Olive’s tail in her mouth and tugged the both of them behind the desk. They huddled together under the desk just as the door swung wide and shut silently. 

Olive could feel her heartbeat pulse through her entire body as she fought the urge to blink too loudly. The silence stretched on unbroken save for the soft hoofsteps of the other pony on the carpet.

“Why’s he bein’ so quiet?,” Silver whispered faintly.

“Maybe he already knows we are here?,” the unicorn whispered back.

As they listened to Merlot’s hooves run across the top of their desk and scatter papers and inkwells, Silver’s ear twitched as a thought sprang unbidden from her mind. Her eyes widening in horror, she gently shook Olive and leaned down to her ear to muffle her voice.

“Hey, didn’t Merlot have a candle?”

The fillies flinched as thud sounded above them before an open volume danced off of the surface, landing near their hiding place.

“What are they doing?,” Olive hissed.

Gingerly, Silver peeked her head out from their hiding space and and inched around the desk.

Her eyes widened and she crouched lower to the ground as she saw a pony dressed all in black illuminated by Luna’s revealing light tossing books off of the shelf and onto the floor with little to no regard for stealth.

“Aww, I just finished cleaning those up.”

The pegasus flinched and glared at her sibling as Olive crawled up beside her, her barrel pressed against Silver’s wings.

Tossing ledgers and literature around the room, the dark figure failed to notice one book strike the solitary globe on its edge, sending the balanced sphere rocking back and forth from the force of the impact.

The fillies, however, noticed it glide slowly open with the barely audible whir of clockwork machinery.

Silver blinked, mouth agape before turning to her companion excitedly.

‘I’m a genius.’, Olive mouthed silently.

Glancing back and forth between the mystery pony and the revealed cache, Silver took a tentative hoofstep out onto the carpet and away from the alcove. 

Ignoring Olive’s frantic and silent hoofwaving, which would have been hilarious to watch under other circumstances, the pegasus tiphoofed silently toward the globe, her eyes glued to the familiar glint of rainbow light emanating from underneath other assorted trinkets.

Flinching with a grimace every time the masked pony made a noise of any sort, the next few seconds felt like the longest hours of the filly’s life as she slowly slid around the globe and smiled at her prize.

Gently grasping the disc in her pinions she stood up and waved it in the air, pumping a forelimb in victory as Olive beckoned her back furiously.

She hadn’t even made it halfway back before a scuff brought her attention to another book that made the arcing trip away from its lovely shelf. Silver felt her heart stop in her chest as she watched the damning volume sail through space in slow motion toward the desk and Olive hiding behind it. 

With a thud, the book struck the surface and knocked loose the glass paperweight that had been delicately placed on top of a stack of forms. An all consuming sense of dread filled those brief fractions of a second as the glass fell from its perch and landed with a thump on an oblivious Olive’s head.

The filly gave a cry of pain and clutched at her bruised cranium.

Silver could only stand frozen like a statue as the black-clothed pony gave a grunt of alarm and spun about, dark eyes glinting with surprise and anger at the pegasus clutching a suddenly alarmingly bright crystal disc.

“Oh, crud,” she whimpered.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Crux’s grip on the arm of his chair tightened to an almost painful degree as his body unconsciously tried to find any available space in his chair to back into.

The black void with its seething red eyes glared out at him as it’s chuckle of amusement at his obvious discomfort seemed to vibrate through his bones.

“W-what in Tartarus are you? How do you know my name?”

“We? We are the forgotten, the abandoned. Much like you, young Jet.”

Crux couldn’t see it, but he most certainly felt the crooked sneer that punctuated its hissing statement.

“Have no fear, We have known you your entire life, Jet. We have watched you from behind your mother’s eyes as you grew older and stronger. Always watching. Do you not remember?”

His muscles seized violently as distorted visions flashed across his eyes. A pale, colorless world seemed to play out before his vision as if he were watching a black and white film in one of the city’s new theaters. He saw a grey colt with a long, messy black mane and what he knew to be green eyes running around the halls laughing as he was chased by his father. He was watching himself. He could feel a light, feminine chuckle vibrate through his chest, though his lungs were frozen and his throat felt tight and clogged.

More glimpses of his childhood through another’s eyes raced through his view before fading away. Sucking in a ragged breath and then another as his heart tried to catch up with a lack of oxygen, he heard the hissing chuckle again, mocking.

“Such a sad thing, to have been raised by parents who hid your heritage from you. To think that we could have met so long ago. Been such friends.”

“D-distance makes the heart grow fonder, or so they say,” Crux spat, glaring at the roiling black spot floating on the table before him.

“Ah, what a fitting phrase. We have indeed only grown fonder of you as time has passed. You have such potential to serve Our cause, much like your uncle did before you.”

“Sombra?”

“Mm, yes. He was quite the vessel before his fall. He had even managed to acquire Our heart before his death.”  A vicious snarl rent the air between them. “A pity your mother sealed Us away from him before he could deliver it.”

Crux felt his blood run cold as ice as the realization dawned on him.

“You’re the Cradle...aren’t you?”

“Ah! He can be taught! We are so proud, Jet. Would you like a reward?” Harsh, mocking laughter grated on his ears.

“What do you want?”

“Our Heart!”  Pinning his ears back at the rumbling echo left behind by the volume of the Cradle’s shout he glared back into its eyes as it chuckled.

“And you are going to help Us get it.”

“I’d sooner kiss Torc,” Crux scoffed. “Go throttle yourself, you black-hearted wretch.”

“Blackheart, eh? We like it.” Laughing uproariously the void trembled over the desk, the air shimmering with its mirth. “But please, don’t be like that, Jet. After all, you may be the only vessel capable of holding me with your true blood, tainted though it may be but that does not mean you are the only pony to whom I have whispered.”

Crux felt the hairs on his neck stand up as the feeling of its smirk washed over him like tepid oil.

“You’d be surprised how motivated a pony in power can be when offered even more of it. Disgusting, greedy little creatures.” Blackheart made a spitting sound, the revulsion evident in its voice.

“Why, even now one of their cronies prowls your home for your second sigil. And it would be a pity if anything were to happen to its other residents. Two little foals, perhaps?”

The muscles along his jaw clenched and curled into a snarl as an icy ball of dread dropped through his stomach, dragging it to his hooves. His eyes burned as though on fire with the force of his gaze as he matched stares with Blackheart’s red orbs.

“If you touch a hair on their heads I swear on the Maker I’ll make you suffer!” He spat.

“Yes, excellent Jet,”  Blackheart crooned. “Embrace Our magic. We must say, that look suits you.”

His brow furrowed in confusion as his eyes roamed to the window. They widened in horror at his reflection.

A nightmarish vision of himself stared back into his shocked face.

A bubbling purple mist leaked from the edges of his now slitted eyes like a sickly miasma and his horn, once solid green and opaque now glowed with an angry emerald light as it’s curve grew more pronounced and its tip even sharper. His slack jaw revealed sharp canines that bit into his lips as she slammed it shut, the coppery taste of his own blood coating his tongue.

“We believe We could get used to seeing you like this. You look so very much like your uncle.”

“I am not like my uncle,” he muttered. 

“No, you will be even better. We know this, and We are never wrong about such things. Now, what do you decide?”

“Go to Tartarus!” With a shout of rage and fear, Crux swiped a hoof through the void’s eyes as it disappeared into trails of wispy black smoke.

Drawing heavy, shaky breaths Crux blinked furiously as the rest of the room came into focus. His aunt and uncle were staring at him with looks of worried terror stamped on their muzzles.

“Jet, honey?” Rose asked hesitantly. “Are you alright?”

Crux swept the room with feverish eyes but all he could see were his distraught hosts and a small hunk of black crystal lying inert on his uncle’s desk.

“W-where did it go?”

“Where did what go?”

“Blackheart, the Cradle! It was just here a moment ago, threatening me.” The lord slammed a hoof down on the table, grabbing the crystal and shaking it in frustration. 

Godric glanced at his wife worriedly as he reached a hoof across the table to grasp his nephew’s.

“There wasn’t any cradle, Jet. You went rigid as a board and started glaring and shouting at the air.”

Frowning in confusion, Crux glanced up at the window to see his normal reflection staring back at him. Though he did look rather pale and sweaty.

“I...I-I don’t understand.” He wiped a shaky forelimb over his brow.

“Jet, honey I think you’d better go lie down.”

The two elders jumped in their seats in surprise as Crux leaped from his chair.

“No! No, I can’t lie down I have to get back! It threatened the girls, and there’s a thief in my house!”

Godric lept from his seat to grab at Crux’s shoulders with a steadying hoof.

“Jet my boy, calm yourself. There’s a thief in your house? How do you know?”

“The Cradle told me Uncle! I'm not entirely sure of what it hopes to gain by threatening me, but I can't just sit here and do nothing about any threat to those foals!”

His uncle stared into his eyes searchingly, unsure if he should let a possibly crazed nephew out into the Empire’s streets at night.

“Uncle please, I need to hurry!”

His mouth pressing into a thin line, he released a vented breath through his nostrils and nodded, releasing the younger stallion. Crux smiled gratefully before swiping the dropped medallion from the floor and galloping out into the hall shouting for his carriage drivers.

“Gaudy, you let him leave?!” Rose cried, incensed. “He obviously wasn’t in his right mind. What happens if he hurts somepony, or himself!”

“Now Rosy, our Jet is many things, but he is neither crazy nor a liar. If he says he saw some ‘Cradle’ speak to him from the crystal and threaten his children, then it probably happened.”

Godric took a deep breath before turning to face his distraught and teary-eyed wife.

“Besides, even if I’d hallucinated it, if something had threatened my children I’d be galloping to their side, come Tartarus or Discord himself.”

“But Gaudy, he-he looked just like him.”

The elderly earth pony pulled his wife into a tight hug as she started to softly sob, he stroked his hooves soothingly over his wife’s neck and its old, thin scars from her years of wearing chains.

“I know he did, Rosy. But it’s just like he said, our Jet isn't like his uncle. He’s a good colt.”

“W-what are we going to do, Gaudy?” she sniffled. Her tears soaked into his coat but he paid them no heed as he ceaselessly assured her with soft coos and a firm pressure on her taut neck muscles.

“I’m not sure there’s much we can do, my dear. But if anything, I believe it’s time we sent a letter to the Princess.”

“I’m sure Cadance will want to hear about this.”












> Taken
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Slateridge was having a calm night.

Rain fell down on cobbled paths in relentless sheets. The droning pattern of rain on the rooftops and the dull roar of metal gutters as they channeled spouts of water to the streets below filled the ears of patrolling Nightwatch. Their volunteer services to watch over their charges as they slept were given without complaint despite hoods pulled high over manes and ears to try and keep the worst of the icy droplets out of their eyes.

The recent agreements with the crown for greater shipments of building material had meant increased demands on the already tireless smithies and quarries. Not many ponies were against this however. Higher demand meant more hours which in turn meant more pay.

What few that hadn’t immediately left for home and their beds with tired hooves were taking advantage of heavier purses in the few local taverns. A little rain had never hurt anypony after all, and with enough alcohol in their system it probably wouldn’t be noticed either.

Groups of drunken ponies staggering home through the downpour weren’t uncommon sights, and so it was that a passing patrol gave a small hooded party little mind as they made their way silently through town.

“Damn pegasi and their damn clouds.” One of the hooded ponies hissed as the last of the Nightwatch turned a corner onto the next portion of their patrol. “Couldn’t keep their blasted rain to themselves for a bleedin’ night could they?”

“Cease your moaning, Grout. A little water will not kill you.“

The stallion snorted powerfully, sending a spray of misty breath and rainwater flying from his nostrils. 

“Easy enough for you to say, mare. You damned unicorns don’t get wet if you don’t want to.”

Ignoring both his companion’s smirk and the flickering glow of her horn as a field of force bounced individual raindrops from her back with small ripples of light, he tried to shake warmth back into his chilled hooves as he grumbled loudly.

“How much longer are we gonna be wastin’ time out here soakin’, anyway? I thought this was a simple grab and dash.”

A frown creased the unicorn’s lips as dislodged droplets from his movements splattered against her shield.

“You know the plan as well as I. We wait one hour for him to return with the targets in hoof, and if he does not, we go in after him. Until then, please, be silent.”

Ignoring his intelligible muttering, the mare swung her gaze back onto the paving before her. The monotonous grey tones of the houses and shops seemed to bleed into their surroundings, the rain washing it out into the air like watercolor with such intensity that even the meager light from the street’s gas lampposts took on the hazy tinge of beige. She would never admit it to Grout, but the situation was taking its toll on her patience as well.

Turning her gaze inward to one of the many passive spells she kept active during such occasions gave her the current time and her frown deepened. Their third member was in great danger of showing up late, and a lack of tolerance for tardiness was something that her mistress had beaten into her early in her career.

Minutes passed like hours with only the sound of rain and Grout’s grunting and constant fidgeting for company. As chewing on the inside of her lower lip began to lose its ability to keep her irritation in check, she felt herself grow dangerously close to snapping before her eyes caught the tell-tale shift in grey-scale that announced a new arrival trotting toward them through a nearby plaza.

As he grew closer, she noticed several peculiarities about the approaching pony. Namely the pronounced limp and very conspicuous burlap sack that he carried on his back.

“About bloody time,” Grout grumbled. “What in Maker’s name kept you? Didja trip over yer own hooves?”

“Go to Tartarus, Grout. I’m not in the mood.” The strained stallion’s voice was thick with irritation as he grabbed the lip of the sack in his teeth and dropped it unceremoniously at their feet. A pained cry emanated from the stitched cloth as it collided with the cobble.

Arching an eyebrow as she stared at the damp bag, her eyes snapped up to meet the newcomer’s. “In my experience, ancient metal sigils do not feel pain let alone voice it.”

“That’s because they don’t and that’s not what this is, genius.”

Her lips pressed in a thin line as Grout stepped forward and poked the bag roughly with a hoof, eliciting a high-pitched groan.

“‘Ey, Rivet, mind tellin’ me why you got a pony in this bag ‘stead of the thing we was after?”

“There was a change of plans. I had a few problems getting the amulet and crystal.”

The unicorn glowered from underneath her hood. “What kind of problems?”

Rivet gave the bag a vicious kick as it started shuffling on the ground. A harsh cry of pain split the air and the bag ceased its movement, shivering occasionally as the pony within gave muffled sobs.

“Little filly problems,” he spat.





It had taken far too long to arrive back home than he found tolerable. The pale sunlight of early morning shone dimly through a sky still streaked with grey wisps of clouds, spent after dropping their burdens on the scoured city below.

Water rose into the air in bright arcs as his hooves came down in puddles scattered across the walkways and streets. He’d had half a mind to throttle the unfortunate patrol that had apprehended his carriage with his bare hooves but he settled for just venting a little spleen and threatening to submerge them in enough red tape to carry over to their grandfoals.

Crux had been barely listening to their hasty apologies and excuses when he’d heard it.

There had been a break-in in his city, nothing too unusual save for its location. His own home, in fact.

And a foalnapping.

He’d been halfway down the street and onto the main thoroughfare before his dust cloud had settled. 

Flying down the pavement and weaving through hoof traffic, he payed little attention to the looks he was receiving from passersby. Heaving and panting while racing down the street like a demon out of Tartarus does wonders for one’s personal image, after all. One or two elderly ponies may have had flash backs and shouted in terror, but that was the price he paid for forgetting his coat in the carriage and putting his features on display again.

It did have one advantage, however, as the crowd parted readily around him. He put the dread of another public relations crisis aside for later as he turned a corner onto the street leading to his estate. He’d been expecting it, but that didn’t mean the sight of assembled guardsponies and a section of his grounds cordoned off with bright yellow tape hadn’t sent his heart plummeting into his stomach with a wave of chill.

His frenzied gallop turned into a jerky trot and finally a standstill as he heaved down great gasps of air, his heart beating a forceful rhythm against his ribcage. Forcing his unruly hooves into motion, he managed to rearrange his muzzle into a more acceptable, calm appearance before he stepped up to the assembled ponies who had yet to notice his presence. Save for one completely distraught mare.

“Mister Crux, there ya are,” Varnish cried. “It’s been just awful! Thank goodness yer back!”

Crux staggered under his maid’s weight as she threw her hooves around his shoulders, bawling hysterically. Unsure of what to say, he settled for patting her back soothing.

“Varnish, Varnish calm down. What happened?”

Drawing a hoofkerchief from his coat pocket, he offered it to the sobbing mare who accepted gratefully, releasing her vice grip on his withers and grasping the cloth tightly in her hooves as she wiped her eyes.

“A-ah don’t rightly know, Jet. Some vandal went and broke into the house last night while the staff went home. Ransacked the place, he did. Merlot and the girls were the only ponies inside and ah found him—”

Choking back a sob, the mare buried her face in the cloth. “Ah found him all cut up and bruised!”

Crux felt the cold claws of fear grip his heart as Varnish blew her nose into the kerchief like a foghorn.

“Merlot was injured? How badly?”

“H-he was bleedin’ pretty badly out of a cut in his side, wheezin’ and splutterin’ like he couldn’t catch his breath. It was all ah could do to keep him from bleedin’ out while one of the kitchen girls ran out to get a doctor.”

“He’s in the hospital?”

“Yessir, an ambulance took him a few hours ago. I’da went with him but someone had to be here when you got back.”

“What about the girls, are they safe?”

He almost fell to his knees as his heart stopped when Varnish hesitated, biting her lip and avoiding his eyes.

“They...they’re missin’ sir.”

The muscles in his face seized up as he stared blankly past the mare. Varnish stole hesitant glances up at him as his eyes were drawn to the yellow caution tape and he noticed the shattered window on the second floor of his house. The glass lay scattered on the grass, deep furrows dug into the ground. The small patch of uprooted turf held suddenly much more dire origins that Crux felt no inclination to ponder.

“Jet, darlin’?” Varnish whispered.

“I should have seen this coming.”

“Darlin’, answer me. That look’s startin’ to scare me.”

He turned to the mare in confusion before she shrank from his gaze. With a start he realized his face had been frozen into a glare and his brow ached as he relaxed the taut muscles.

“I apologize, Varnish. I let my emotions get the best of me.” As the maid relaxed slightly, he looked back at the uniformed ponies milling about the tape, collecting samples and questioning the few morning staff.

“Have the authorities discovered who may have done this yet, Varnish?”

“Sorry colt, but we have nothing to report yet.”

Crux eyed the older stallion that trotted closer. Puffing slowly on a large cigar wedged between his teeth, the off-white stallion scratched at the rough stubble on his chin absentmindedly and mumbled past the lit stogey. He extended his hoof and grasped Crux’s firmly in a hoofshake, which Crux returned.

“Captain Ash, I wish I could say it was a pleasure to see you again,” Crux said tilting his head in the direction of his house. “You have nothing to go on, you said?”

“We haven’t found even a single hair of evidence as to who might’ve done it, all we have to go on is the testimony of the staff that was on hand at the time of the incident and from the sight of him I don’t think we’ll be getting anything out of him anytime soon.”

Crux winced as Varnish whimpered, pressing the cloth against her face to stave off more tears.

“Oh, er, right. Sorry about that ma’am, I’m sure he’ll be just fine. The med-ponies around here do their jobs well, I can vouch for that.”

Sniffing morosely, the maid nodded before Crux placed a hoof on her shoulder and steered her toward the house. “Varnish, go get your things and go home. See that Merlot is alright and then get some rest.You have my thanks for staying, but Ash and I can take things from here.”

The two stallions watched the mare walk quietly back indoors, the captain’s cigar glowed with a dull red light as he sucked in a breath and sighed. “It’s a right pity that mare had to stumble in on something like that. I take it they have something?”

“Something like that. Tell me, Captain, you said you have nothing to go on?” The ponies walked past a cleanup crew who were hauling away a few of the larger pieces of glass. Ash took a long drag on his cigar before blowing a ring of smoke that flew down to settle on the furrows dug into the grass.

“Unfortunately. The most we can tell at this point is that the window at least probably wasn’t broken by the criminal.”

Crux raised a brow as he looked expectantly down at the shallow grooves. They hadn’t been dug very deep, so the impact had probably not been very hard. Glancing up at the empty window, Crux frowned slightly while trying to piece together how an adult pony could have leapt from a two story window and not—

Ash, who had been watching him carefully, nodded grimly as Crux’s jaw dropped in horror.

“Yeah, it looks like one of the foals was the jumper. Though if they were as young as your maid said they were, I wonder how they could have broken that window. Those panes looked thick and sturdy.”

“We also took the time to inspect the inside of the building, and strangely enough the only place that looked like it had been rummaged through was your office. Probably looking for something in particular. Do you have any ideas what they might’ve wanted, colt?”

Swallowing to ease the tightness in his throat as he rubbed a hoof across the pocket of his vest, Crux felt the weight of the etched silver and lump of crystal.

“I might have an idea.”

“Well, until that butler of yours wakes up any clues we have to go on would be helpful. If you know what they might’ve wanted then we could use that to narrow down a suspect.”

“It’s too soon to go crying wolf, Captain, but I have a few suspicions. If it’s not too much trouble would you mind going through City Hall’s immigration records and seeing if anypony showed up recently with registration from the Amber Forest or High Peaks?”

The Captain’s cigar spat a wisp of smoke as the pony blinked. “Of course, if you think it’ll help. Any reason for those cities in particular? They’re almost on the opposite side of the Empire.

“Like I said, I have my suspicions. Thank you, Captain.”

Crux walked away from the surprised captain and clean up ponies, moving slowly into his house. As he walked past the open doors and halls dimly lit with the few rays of sunlight that managed to penetrate the leftover cloud layer, he felt something unsettling about the place that was his home. Crux largely ignored the few members of staff who stopped him to ask hesitant questions, answering them with as few words as possible. Even the blood stain on the carpet that had been cordoned off as the place where Merlot had met their unwelcome guest was passed over with little recognition.

As the lord stepped into his office and his eyes roamed over the scattered books and overturned desk they settled on the open globe of Equestria that lay on its side, its precious contents scattered over the carpet.

He didn't have to inspect them. He knew what was missing already.

“There have been rumors spreading among the lords of similar break-ins and Torc, Jasper and the other troublemakers have been speaking with one of the contemporary lords. A Lord Cruciger, I believe.”

He had his suspicions, alright.

Taking a slow step into his gutted bastion, the shark crack of glass under his hoof brought him up short. Stepping back and glancing down, Crux was afforded a view of the mysterious object.

Olive’s cracked coke-bottle glasses.

It was then, as he lifted the damaged lenses up to his eyes with all the delicacy that he could muster that Crux realized what it was that had felt unsettling about his home.

It was quiet.

He had lived in this house for his entire life. He had forsworn relationships with any ponies save his parents and staff for all those years in favor of seclusion and study. The silence of the house and its peaceful air had soaked into his past and personality. And now, as he stared unblinking at the glasses with its cracked lense and bent rim, he realized that it had only taken a month with those two foals to become accustomed to constant sound.

He couldn’t stand the sound of an empty house.

Somepony had broken into his home, which only two days ago had been filled with shrieking laughter and shouting. He suddenly found himself wishing to hear the dry rustle of Olive’s magic turning pages or the creak of Silver jumping up and down on her bed. The giddy shriek as they helped Varnish bake cookies or even the sound of Olive smugly tapping these glasses up the bridge of her muzzle.

Not that it made a sound, mind you. It just felt like it did.

Somepony had broken into his home and stolen away the sound. They had snuck in in the dead of night and harmed his family, stolen away the noise which made these old walls feel closer and warmer. 

And that made him angry. He felt the shock and suppressed fear that had welled up within his mind earlier flare to bright, roaring life at the cracked spark that he held in his magic. The anger surged through his heart like a black tide and he could feel it sweep away everything except the need to find whoever had done this.

And, oh, he would make them pay.

He could feel the lump in his vest vibrate as cold, approving laughter rang in his ears, but he paid it no heed.





She’d just known leaving bed had been a bad idea.

Shifting carefully under the sacks in the back of the carriage, Silver tried in vain to ease the pressure on her damaged wing. It had gotten pretty bruised up when she’d hit the ground after jumping from that window. 

She shivered and quickly repressed that memory. Waves of cold ran down her spine every time she remembered being thrown out of that window. If it hadn’t been for flight instinct taking over in midair she probably would have landed on her back or on her head, and then there wouldn’t be any pony left to make a daring rescue for Olive.

Not that rescuing her would be easy, or even possible for that matter. She’d been running on adrenaline when she’d made the decision to follow the pony that had foalnapped Olive and once it had worn off, she had been forced to admit that her wing and right foreleg had been bruised fairly badly. 

She sighed as her mind ran through the night before once again.


~~~~~~~~~~


The thief had been less interested in her and her prize when he’d noticed the open globe and made a beeline for it, watching her the whole time. He had pulled some sort of metal necklace out of the junk Crux kept in his stash and it had seemed like what he’d broken into the house for in the first place, judging from the way he hefted it satisfyingly in his hoof.

At least it was before it vanished into thin air with a crack and glow of light green magic.

That had been pretty awesome. Silver hadn’t known Olive could put things into a little pocket dimension. Now she knew where Olive kept all of her stashed goodies. Too bad you can’t pick the lock on an alternate dimension. Phooey.

Olive hadn’t been visible before thanks to the angle of the desk she’d been hiding behind but when the thief had spun around, the green glow of her horn as she dashed out from behind the desk toward the hallway certainly made quick work of that.

“Run, Silver! Don’t let him get the disc!”

The stallion had made a wild grab for the filly but tripped over a tan coated leg that hadn’t been in his path a moment ago. Leaping onto his head and then off into the hallway, Silver clutched her disc in her feathers and took off after her sister.

Silver looked over her shoulder to see the thief snorting angrily and barreling down the hallway after them. Now, being a sleuth herself and idolizing her hero Prancy Drew, Silver knew the necessity for an investigator to keep herself in good physical condition just in case her quick wits and razor tongue weren’t enough. She knew that even with him being older and larger than her, she was fast and a pegasus on top of that. She could outrun him easily.

Her bookworm sister who had to switch to three legs every few seconds to push her glasses up her nose? Not so much.

And so, being the brave and awesome pony she was, she had taken it upon herself to use all of the various available tables, vases and suits of armor scattered throughout the hall for a much greater purpose.

Like tripping featherheaded adults.

The one thing she hadn’t counted on though was being caught. She’d underestimated the weight of one of the suits of armor, it had looked like it was from some other country whose name couldn’t be pronounced by anypony other than the most wizened of sages or Olive, and the stallion had grabbed her by a leg as she’d spun around.

She couldn’t tell through the black clothing he was wearing, but she guessed he was covered in bruises from all of the furniture being knocked into him and the way he was growling and snorting at her with bloodshot eyes made her feel that that guess wasn’t too far off. With a roar he had lifted her over his head and hurled her at the nearest breakable object, which in their current position in the hallway had happened to be a window.

It had been a sturdy window, but that stallion had been strong and an earth pony. She’d broken right through it and gone sailing out into the rain over the estate grounds.

Most of her mind had gone blank when she’d recovered from the impact with the glass and realized he’d thrown her out the window, but thankfully her body hadn’t forgotten it was a pegasus and had started flapping her wings. It was right before she hit the ground that she remembered she was holding onto the disc with one of those wings, and therefore couldn’t get full use out of the appendage.

And boy, it had hurt.

Even though she landed in the grass and the rain had soaked the ground into a softer mud, she’d still fallen quite a ways before impact and had gained a fair amount of momentum. Thankfully, she was small and light so she had managed to lose enough speed with her wings to land without breaking anything. 

Her head was still reeling from the sound of impact, which had been a thud she’d heard with her entire body rather than her ears, when the glass from the window rained down around her with the sound of a spinning crystal chandelier. Her ears did hear, however, the sound of a familiar voice screaming in panic. 

“Olive!”

With a groan, she hauled herself out of the furrow she’d carved in the ground and stumbled through the bushes and trees as fast as she could haul her sore body.

She pushed her way through a bush and peaked out between the leaves as the stallion burst out of the front door and into the rain, a sack slung over his shoulder. Silver’s excellent skills in deduction told her uneq-unoq- without doubt that Olive was in that bag. Mostly because bags without ponies in them don’t squirm around like ponies trapped in bags.

Pulling a hood over his head, the stallion tightened his grip on the bag and trotted off into the night.

Once she was certain he wouldn’t see her, she’d galloped from her hiding place and back into the house. Taking the stairs two at a time, she rushed into her room, grabbed Olive’s and her own saddlebags and rocketed out the doors and after her sister.


~~~~~~~~~~


Silver sighed internally again as the carriage she’d stolen into jumped over another knot in the road.

She’d been lucky to spot the thief again as he had made his way through town. Being unable to fly with her bruised wing and the weight of two saddlebags had meant she’d had to trot after him on hoof. Luckily, Olive had made it difficult for him to set a quick pace, squirming in the bag and making muffled shouts. 

That is, until he’d slung the sack around a few times to quiet her.

Silver bit her lip, quivering in rage every time she visualized it. She’d get that plothead back for hurting Olive.

She had watched from a dark alley as he had met up with two other hooded ponies and dropped the bag in front of them. Silver had snorted and rolled her eyes, what was this bring your fellow cultpony to work day? Which had brought another thought to Silver’s mind.

Why did every evil pony have to dress up in black robes and hoods? Did evil organisations have an ‘only black’ dress code? Silver herself preferred wearing hoodies. She’d seen this one hoodie in a local shop that had looked so cute.

And she reminded herself again to never say that in front of Olive.

They had taken Olive and put her into a carriage parked outside an inn that had taken two hours in the rain to walk to before leaving her there for the night. Silver had tried to get inside but it looked like the unicorn the two stallions had with them had magicked the locks, so rather than break her picks, Silver had settled for stashing herself inside with the luggage in the back.

Silver had started becoming rather disenchanted with the whole daring rescue shpiel. Prancy Drew made it seem a lot more interesting in her books. But if there was one thing Silver wasn’t doing it was abandoning Olive, so she hid herself under the luggage as well as she could and had settled down for the longest night of her life.

She had woken up to the jostling of the carriage as it swung over ruts and hills in the road, and she had never been more sore in her life. Her legs hurt, her chest ached, her wings were stiffer than three day old chewing gum and her head felt like it had been used in the park as a soccer ball.

And that was before the stallion with the thick accent driving the vehicle started singing some sort of endless, horrifying shanty.

Horribly, horribly off-key.

But despite all her own discomforts, the most worrisome thing about her situation was Olive. Silver had no way to tell if her sister was okay aside from the occasional cries and whimpers she could hear through the thin wooden panel that separated her from the inside of the carriage. 

She could only lay in the cramped compartment, silent for fear of being found as she listened to Olive’s fearful sobs.

And it hurt.

Why had Crux had to leave that night? When they needed him the most, he hadn’t been there.
He was supposed to be their guardian, right? And here they were, Olive trapped in a small room with two foalnappers and she stuffed into a luggage compartment.

Really, when it came down to it, you couldn’t trust parents. She’d learned that the hard way.

But this was no time to spend moping about what could have happened differently. Her sister, the only pony in the world who meant more to her than herself, was in trouble and needed rescue. And when they arrived where they were headed, she’d be ready.

Wherever they were headed. Hopefully it wasn't the land of luggage compartments.

> All's Fair
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Cadance, sweetness. You need to relax.”

“Relax! I can’t just relax, Brass. This is the Millennial Fair we’re talking about here. You know, the one that only comes once a millennia? And I have to oversee everything!” Cadance rounded on her scribe, this morning’s somewhat sloppily applied makeup making her eyes seem dark and manic, and seized his collar in trembling hooves, shaking him for emphasis.

“If I drop my guard for an instant, it will all go to Tartarus in a hoof-basket, crumbling around me like a house of cards! The nevermelting ice sculptures set up in the plazas will melt, I’ll forget how to read and my speech will be ruined, Pinkie will find the Empire’s secret cache of fireworks and candy, Sombra will return for a second reign of terror on a giant parade float! Aunt Tia and Lulu will be replaced with Chrysalises!”

Realizing belatedly that her voice had come dangerously close to a shriek of terror, she coughed nervously and smiled in what she hoped was a soothing facsimile of her Aunts’ expression at the sudden crowd of worried employees. Once again, she heard Shiny’s laughter when she’d told him she could fall prey to intense panic attacks. She’d been only a little shocked when he’d said he’d already known. After all, his parents were very level-headed ponies, and Twilight had to have picked it up from somepony.

“I’m sorry about that, Brass. I didn’t get the best sleep last night and Shiny and I switched to decaf for health reasons, and I really thought my therapist had helped me work through that last part.” She chattered nervously, rubbing a hoof self-consciously against a foreleg as the pristine stallion smoothed his mussed collar haughtily, though a small grin was visible on his muzzle in between flicks of his curly, golden locks.

“No apology needed,darling. I know how stressful these situations can be, after all the Maker only knows how many of them I helped Celestia work through.”

Cadance sighed as, slowly, the assortment of staffponies dispersed under the calm, assuring and most likely practiced words of her lent assistant, Brass Tact.

She doubted, if she lived through this event, that she’d ever be able to find a way to thank her aunts for sending the hardworking aide. He’d proven himself a necessity in keeping, not only her sanity, but the plans for the festivities moving smoothly. The Fair was taking so much out of her, she just wished she could grab her sister-in-law and her friends who were soon to arrive, slap a checklist in their stunned hooves and throw them to the rabid piranhas of the Festivities Committee.

But, of course, she would never do such a thing. Good sister-in-laws didn’t foist their problems off on their perfectly precious purple pony sisters. But that was one of the two major reasons she liked Brass. Not only was it his job, but he actually enjoyed being under pressure. She knew she should try to be a little more productive, but it was hard to feel bad about relaxing a little when he tossed her his playful grin and forced her to delegate more of her workload.

She blinked in surprise as her favorite coffee mug, one of a matching set stenciled with Shining’s and her own cutie mark and the word Love Bugs that Twilight had given her for their anniversary, was suddenly presented to her, suspended in rigid bronze bands of magic.Her horn lit up instinctively to snatch the heavenly chalice, but she hesitated.

“Oh, Brass, thank you. It looks lovely, but Shiny and I—”

“Sweetness, please. I’m a professional.” He gave an affronted sniff. “Decaf.”

“Oh, thank Auntie.” Softening her desperate grab for the mug with a grateful smile, she took as long of a sip as decorum allowed before giving a satisfied sigh. “What would I have to pay you to get you to move here permanently, Brass?”

The assistant snorted condescendingly. “Honey, you could give me the keys to the kingdom right now and I’d hoof them back and trot away. It’s too sparkly here for my tastes, and coming from me, that’s saying something.”

“Nonsense, I’m sure you could get used to it. Shiny only had to wear those sunglasses for the first few months!”

Brass halted in his tracks and sucked in a horrified gasp, a manicured hoof even reaching up to cover his slack jaw. “Sunglasses?! Oh, no. Sunglasses and I do not mingle sweetie. And besides, you know Equestrian ponies like me and your hubby can’t adapt to the brightness like your Imperial ponies can. A natural eye adaptation, right? Her Royal Huffyness Moon Candy was interested in it.”

Picking their pace back up after his dramatic fashion announcement, Brass hummed thoughtfully and glanced up at her.

“But speaking of that hubby of yours, how’s he handling his end of all this business? I’d like to offer a hoof to help...among other things, but he keeps turning me down.” 

Cadance had to take a hurried sip of her decaf to hide the wide grin and bubbly giggle that erupted as the stallion pouted like a little filly. She knew for a fact that Shining was having just as tough of a time with it as she was. They’d pulled lots out of a hat to see who had to deal with the noble ponies for the duration of the Fair and he’d gotten the red card, and that on top of having to detail guard duties for both the common pony and for the Crystal Heart, which would be the main attraction was taking it’s toll. 

No, the real reason he’d turned down Brass’ help was also the second, and second best reason she liked having him around so much.

“Mmm, what I wouldn’t give to get down and dirty on a little Fair planning with that stallion of yours.”

Sadly, even decaf couldn’t completely smother the giggles that erupted from her muzzle that time.

“Actually, Honey, I’ve changed my mind. I’ll stay if you hoof over the chiseled pretty boy.”

Shining looked up from the papers lining the coffee table of their more modest personal suite, a steaming mug grasped in his pink magic as the pair stepped inside, laughing loudly.

“What’s so funny?” He asked, taking a sip from his mug.

“Oh, nothing you need to worry that hunky head of yours about, Studly.” Brass tossed a wink at him. Cadance had a feeling that that shiver of his had nothing to do with the taste of coffee.

Trotting over to their suite’s kitchenette to refill her mug, her anticipatory grin widened as she heard the soft creak of another pony seating themselves on the couch. She’d been a little concerned with Brass’ antics at first, but a few questions and a little leaning on her love magic had assured her that Brass’ only intent was to tease Shining a little. She couldn’t blame him either, it was adorable how flustered and awkward Shiny could get sometimes.

“So how was your day, handsome?”

“F-fine.”

“You sure are.”

“I think he’s had enough, Brass.” Cadance didn’t bother to hide her laughter as the stallion stopped fluttering his eyelashes over the huddling mass trying to force itself into the cushions that was her husband.

Brass conceded the vacancy with a smug grin and theatrical sigh to Cadance as he pulled a stack of papers out of his saddlebags, arranging them on the neater side of the table away from the mess of lists and patrol routes in front of Shining.

“But seriously Shiny, how was your day? I know you and the nobility don’t really get along.” She placed a pink wing on his shoulder.

“Oh, it wasn’t too bad. The only real difficulty was merging their personal guards with ours. They were too busy arguing with each other over who would be the first to pledge to pay the rest of us much mind.” He shrugged.

“Pledge?” Brass looked up from his papers. “I wasn’t told you’d be pledged anything, Cadance.”

“Oh, I won’t be,” Cadance denied, shaking her tri-color mane. “The pledges made by the lords and ladies will be to the Crystal Heart. The Fair is a re-enactment of sorts. The nobility reaffirms their oaths to unity, peace and love for the Empire under the Heart.The actual Fair is just the celebration that follows.”

“I still don’t see what the big deal is.” Shining huffed, taking a gulp from his mug and pulling a face. Lukewarm coffee. “What’s it matter who goes first? Everyone will get a turn, right?”

“Well it is the defining icon of your nation.” Brass chuckled. “It’s a pride thing. If the regions that were the first to join the Empire’s banner get to make their pledges before everypony else, they can lord it over the others about how they’re still the most loyal. And on the flip side, the others want the position to prove that they’re just as loyal as them.”

“And don’t forget that proving how loyal you are is a good way to keep the citizenry proud of you.” Cadance rolled her eyes.

Shining hesitated before taking a sip. “So it’s PR, basically?”

“Yep!” Both ponies sighed, shaking their heads. Nobility would never change.

Shining groaned into his cup, making Cadance laugh. “Did they manage to decide who would be getting such a prestigious honor, at least?”

“Yeah, all the older ones didn’t want their rivals to go first so the position went to the youngest heads. Hoofing the torch or something.” Shining rolled his eyes as he pulled a list of names from the mess of papers on the table.

“So it’ll be...Beryl, Torc, Calister and Crux.”

“Hmm. Brass, didn’t I receive a letter concerning Calister the other day?”

“Yes you did, Sweetness. From Lord Godric, I think.”

“What about?” Shining asked.

“Well, he was a little concerned about Calister’s recent track record with a few of the other nobles. He cautioned us to be careful at the Fair, especially once Crux shows up, but he didn’t say why.”

Shining blinked in surprise as Cadance burst into laughter.
“Oh, I’m sorry, but can you imagine? Beryl caught between those three?”

“Oh no, she’ll be ripped to pieces in the crossfire.” Shining groaned, rubbing his forehead. “I didn’t even think of that.”

Brass chuckled.“But that makes me wonder, why all this pledging for the Heart? Is it tradition?”

Cadance nodded.“It goes back to the forming of the Empire. The regions the nobles preside over used to be city states under constant attack by windigos and harsh conditions. It wasn’t until my ancestors discovered the heart and used it to unite the city states that the Empire was first conceived. They didn’t flock to the banner at first, either. It took almost a century to bring them all together.”

“Wait, discovered?” Brass leaned forward over the desk, papers pressed under his barrel lying forgotten for the moment. “Your ancestors found the Heart? If it wasn’t made, then where did they find it?”

Cadance giggled, shaking her head. “Nope, we didn’t make the Heart. It has strong ties to the magic of this land, and the majority of the crystal ponies in those times were earth ponies. We’ve had a few scholars who’ve speculated, but as for where we found it, nopony really knows. The ponies who would have been present at the time had already passed away before Sombra’s takeover and now, a thousand years later, there’s barely anything left to go on.”

“All we know for sure is that it came from somewhere in the Crystal Mountain Range,” Shining mumbled. His horn lit up as he levitated a new steaming cup into his grip.

Brass tapped his chin with a hoof. “That’s a shame. Your nation’s symbol is an artifact of great power and no one knows where it came from. But at least your little problem with Beryl and the others is solved easily enough.”

“It is?” Shining blinked.

“From what you and Sweetness have told me, just get the three of them together to iron out the nastiness before the ceremony. Maybe you’ll get lucky and they’ll snark each other to death. Problem solved.”







The slow ticking of the clock overhead punctuated the oppressive silence. Though the windowless room had obviously been designed for comfort, with its dark, intricately carved wooden furniture and thick carpets, the post furniture did little to comfort the stricken filly who lay in the corner farthest from the door.

She lay surrounded by a fort of sorts, made from the thickest of manuscripts she could find in the dreary domicile’s bookcase. Their titles ranged from compiled literature to the biological texts of a professor with a name too long to pronounce, reminding her of safer times in the orphanage before she’d met a certain pegasus. When she would bury herself in the pages of her favorite texts, imagining she herself stood in the horseshoes of famous ponies throughout history, unintentionally raising around herself a castle built of tales from times long past. But just as when one of the matrons came to steal her from her bound ramparts and place her once more amongst strangers, the defensive volumes no longer offered their comforts.

Not that she begrudged the experiences much, mind you. After all if she hadn’t been forced to socialise, she would have never met the pony that had made all those years bearable. Olive rubbed the bridge of her muzzle, attempting to soothe that peculiar aching itch associated with bruises. She flinched as her hoof grazed just that little bit too hard against a particularly sensitive bit of discolored skin partially hidden beneath the green tones of her coat. She frowned, huffing thickly through a nose still congested with blood at the offending appendage.

It had been difficult to ascertain the extent of the damage her muzzle had received from the metal frame of her glasses. Her improvised cell did indeed come equipped with a large mirror but her eyes’ natural astigmatisms revealed little to her aside from the blurry, green splotches of color she’d come to associate her person with without her lenses. Prodding sections of her muzzle to determine the size and area of damage had been irritating to say the least, but the only thing she could think about was how thankful she was that the orphanage had planned ahead and given the foals that needed them shatter-proof lenses, though unfortunately, that hadn’t kept hers from webbing with enough cracks to render them useless.

The ride in the carriage sandwiched between two ponies who’d watched her like hawks the entire duration, to say little of the physical punishment she’d received by being dragged about in a burlap sack and dropped on her muzzle, had been one of the worst experiences of her short life. The shorter stallion had been proven to be deceptively strong despite his size as he pulled the carriage the entire distance alone, whistling some sort of hellish shantie, and this had left the other two, her original foalnapper and his silent unicorn companion, to be the ones to keep her ‘company’ for their trip.

They’d spent most of the trip attempting to coerce her into releasing the crystal discus from her pocket dimension,the angry stallion had not been above using force but she had been spared his violence by the unicorn who had not spoken a word before until that moment, her voice a strangely low, husky sound as though speaking did not come naturally to her.

“Leave the foal be, Rivet. Milady will decide what to do with her when we arrive, and I do not think she will appreciate her guests arriving...damaged.”

Olive had flinched as his resulting snort had blasted hot air on her still sensitive face and he dropped her back onto the cushion beside the unicorn before stepping outside, the driver’s whistling increasing in volume before the door slammed shut.

Tucking her forelimbs under her chest and trying her best to make herself as small of a target as possible without touching her bloody muzzle, she gasped as a soft cloth was suddenly pressed against her nostrils. Olive grit her teeth against the trapped heat and aching in her nose as the firm, yet gentle ministrations of the hoofkerchief wiped away the traces of blood and tears.

“There, now you are somewhat presentable.”

She resisted the urge to rub at her suddenly itchy muzzle as the mare’s low voice rolled over her making her eyes snap open to observe the unicorn as she tucked a blurry object that must have been the cloth back into a pocket in her cloak.

“T-thank you,” Olive whispered.

“Do not mistake this for kindness.The Mistress would be most distressed to bear witness to a foal covered in blood, that is all.”

Hunching down against the flat tone in the mare’s voice, the filly curled back into a ball and waited out the slow ride, trying her best to ignore the stare of the older mare that she could feel under her coat like crawling ants.

Whoever this Mistress was, Olive hadn’t been give the pleasure of meeting her. As soon as they had arrived in the strange place the mare had left her with the two stallions and gone to announce their arrival. Apparently she had been busy with something else, for barely a hoofful of minutes had passed before the mare had returned, dismissing the two earth ponies and beckoning to her with her husky voice.

“Follow me.”

Even without her glasses, Olive could tell that whoever owned this place had a very different idea of what amounted to an attractive home than Mr.Crux did. Her adoptive father liked solid walls and hallways, oaken furniture and rooms lit with warm hearths and candlelight that gave them a comforting coziness regardless of the time of day.

This place, if they could be compared, could be said to be its exact opposite. Most of the building was constructed from a strange white material that after a hesitant inspection driven by boredom in her first few hours, she had determined to be some sort of white wood. There were no hallways that she could see, the separate sections of housing spaced apart with cobbled walkways connecting them, gold arches spanning pillars of that same white wood and reflected the strange, ethereal light given off by the undoubtedly strangest feature of this new locale

The trees.

She had at first thought them to be more pillars, though she could not understand why they would be scattered so thickly and randomly throughout the gardens lining the paths until she had looked up and seen their defining features. Their tops were capped in leaves that seemed to shine with the colors of autumn epitomized.

Golds, bronzes, reds and yellows all gave forth a soft glow that was reflected off of their smooth, bleached trunks and the golden capped pillars and red tiled rooftops of the surrounding buildings. And there were hundreds of them, no matter where she turned her blurry vision, all she could see in the distance around this place was a darkening night lit by an undulating sea of glowing canopies, tossing like waves under a gentle breeze that blew through their unnatural beauty.

Had she not been pressed to keep pace with the strange mare’s much longer stride, Olive had no doubt she would have been more than happy to lose herself in a walk through such an enchanting place. They stopped outside of a smaller arrangement of rooms across the grounds from the main building where the mare spun around and stared down at the panting filly.

“This will be your place of residence until Milady decides otherwise. Do not try anything. I will be listening.” 

Nervously swallowing, Olive obediently trotted inside as the intricately embossed red door gave a soft click and swung silently closed behind her on oiled hinges in the grip of the mare’s magic.

And here Olive had sat and waited for several hours, the anticipation and dread of awaiting the arrival of a mysterious captor having long worn off with the ticking of the painstakingly polished grandfather clock. She had even tried to read a few of the books that made up her fort out of desperation despite her lack of distinct vision, glancing over texts on imperial flora and fauna as well as an autobiography that had looked to be as dry as the Badlands. Though a bookworm she might be, she was still a foal and even her favorite pastime could not keep her entertained forever.

So it was with an emotion approaching relief that she looked up, her ears flicking toward the door handle as it turned with a soft click, the door swinging open to permit two ponies entry. Unsurprisingly, one of them was her quasi-jailor but the other looked to be an earth pony maid as she pushed what appeared to be a cart of some kind. 

“Desist.”

Olive thought she had seen the maid flinch at the flat voice of the unicorn, but couldn’t be certain before her attention was caught by the mare clearing her throat in front of her. 

“Y-yes?”

“Milady is too busy to grant you an audience tonight. You will be brought before her in the morning. Until then, Milady has seen fit to offer you a meal and other amenities.”

She waved a hoof toward the cart and the domed platters that covered it, along with assorted medical supplies and a pitcher that she assumed was filled with some sort of liquid.

“Since you are a unicorn and therefore do not need them, you have not been provided with silverware, eliminating the necessity for me to observe you while you eat. You have also been provided with rubbing alcohol and bandages for your face. Do not abuse the privilege.”

Olive glanced over to the laden cart and its attendant before returning to hesitantly meeting the steely gaze of the unicorn. “Um, are there any cotton swabs I could use? I wouldn’t ask but I...can’t see for myself.”

“Yes, miss,” a demure voice piped up from the hesitant pony attending the cart. “There are several swabs and milady saw fit to provide you with replacements for your—”

Olive flinched at the harsh crack of the unicorn mare’s hoof against the maid’s cheek, sending her reeling a few steps until her hooves steadied beneath her.

“Did I not tell you that you were not to speak to Milady’s guest?” The mare’s low voice held a certain edge to it that caused the coat on the back of Olive’s neck to stand stiff as the maid held her cheek in a supportive hoof.

“Y-yes ma’am, you did. I’m sorry ma’am, it won’t happen again.”

“Make sure it does not. You are dismissed.”

The maid curtsied hurriedly before dashing out of the room as fast as decorum would allow, her eyes glistening with what Olive could see were held tears. Her ears pressed flat against her skull as the mare turned to regard her, her mouth curving slightly at one edge in an approximation of amusement at the the reaction.

“Worry not. I will not strike you.” With a brief glow of her horn, the cart pulled itself to a gentle stop in front of her improvised novel structure and the mare stepped slowly out of the room, pulling the door behind her.

“As long as you do not try to escape.”

Olive hunched further down in her fort as the door was shut and the sound of a lock turning filled the room before silence returned, broken only by the relentless efforts of the clock. As she listened to the steps of the unicorn fade away into nothingness, her eyes latched on to the cart draped with its white cloth and burdened with its contents. She didn’t know how long she’d been watching it before a low growl caused a spark of panic that faded quickly as she realized the sound had come from within her own gut. 

Breathing a thick sigh, she stood up on four legs shaky from prolonged sitting on the floor and made her way closer to the assortment of trays. Her horn was wrapped in a green aura as she raised the lid off of one of the platters to reveal a small pile of cucumber sandwiches, sliced diagonally. Not one to complain about their simplicity hungry as she was, she quickly busied herself with munching as she rummaged through the promised bag of medical supplies, pulling out a bottle of what, after pulling off the cap and getting a hint of its scent, she affirmed to be rubbing alcohol and several cotton swabs.

As she began to turn around and get comfortable before applying the stinging solution, her eye was caught by the play of light off of another item lying amongst the platters. Lifting it up before her eyes, she gasped as she beheld it in all its framed glory.

A pair of coke-bottle glasses.

“So these were the replacements the maid had mentioned.”

Her spirits momentarily lifted at the prospect of being able to see beyond her eyelashes, she quickly placed the frames on her muzzle, careful of the delicate bruises before she noticed something curious about these particular spectacles. They had words painted on their bridge, in curvy white paint that caused her heart to pound in her chest as she read them, having seen them so often that she had no need of clear eyesight to discern their meaning.

Olivia P. Inkwell.

“That’s my name. These are my back-up glasses. B-but how did they get he—”

It was as she uncrossed her eyes from the bridge of her glasses that her vision swept once more across the cart that had held this unexpected mystery. And as she gazed at the spot underneath where the lenses had been placed, she felt a warmth blossom in her chest and moisture spring to her eyes as fresh tears began to carve new tracks down her face, though these for a different reason.

There lay a tan feather, a large pinion plucked from the wing of a pegasus, no doubt. A mystery that needed no solving.









> Weaknesses
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Wheeling her cart through the rocking double doors of the house’s kitchens, her eyes squeezed nearly shut in response to the wave of warmth that washed over her in a tide. The scents of cooking delicacies and the sounds of rambling cooks furiously berating inept apprentices threatened to overwhelm her senses. 

Hurriedly seeking shelter with her cart from the bedlam, she steered toward the nearest island of calm in the storm, a corner of the room amongst other unfilled carts and idle servants. Blowing out a weary sigh, she slumped against a nearby wall, glad for the chance to rest her hooves.

Her ears twitched as the sound of low whispers reached them in between lulls in the chefs’ shouts and her eye opened a sliver as she beheld two other mares close to her own age huddled together. Unable to put names to their faces, her eye slid shut, taking advantage of the momentary respite.

It seemed like she had only just shut her eyes when she felt a hoof shaking her withers, and her eyes snapped open as she shook herself awake.

“Oh, no! Oh, no no no no! Please don’t tell me I fell asleep! Malice will flay me alive!”

The two maids that she remembered from earlier jumped back slightly, startled.

“Whoa, easy there filly. There’s no need to give yourself, like, a hernia or anything. It’s alright, you didn’t sleep through anything.”

“Yeah, totally,” the second mare chirped. “You must’ve zonked out for only, like, five minutes.”

A hoof pressed against her chest, easing out a sigh of relief as the first maid giggled, the many bracelets on her forelegs clinking together softly as she moved.

“Filly, you need to take it easy. You’ll get wrinkles if you keep working yourself ‘til you drop like that.  I’m Bangle, by the way, and this is Lemon Zest.” The second mare smiled in a friendly way, waving a hoof in greeting. “What’s the Witch got you running around for anyway?”

“W-what? Witch?”

The mare’s eyes gave an exaggerated roll. “Uh, duh, you know. You totally said her name and everything. Guess that explains why you’re working like you’ve got the Princess breathing down your neck. She must’a popped you one, huh?”

The mare blinked in surprise before Bangle smirked, reaching up a hoof bejewelled in various bracelets to tap smartly on a discolored patch on her cheek. The maid gasped as the unsightly bruising twinged in discomfort, her own foreleg snapping upwards to cover it protectively.

“Oh, sorry! I didn’t mean to, like, hurt you or anything.” The mare’s ears drooped in sympathy as Lemon Zest stepped forward, tutting as she gently grasped the maid by her jaw, turning her muzzle this way and that.

“Cadance, she got you good, huh? You must’ve, like, tap-danced across the line for her to pop you this bad.” She let go of the bruised cheek and turned around to rummage around in the pockets of her apron. Pulling out a strip of gauze and a roll of tape, she quickly plastered a bandage over the injury.

As she put the finishing touches on the covering, Lemon couldn’t help but notice the particular emblem stitched into the maid’s uniform.

“Hey, that’s the boss’ symbol you got stitched there!” She gasped, as she bent back down to four hooves. “You’re one of her personal hoofmares, aren’tcha? Well, that explains why Bangles and I haven’t seen you before. What’s your name, huh?”

“U-uh, uhm…” The mare hesitated, glancing briefly between her two fellow mares, their eyes shining with curiosity. “I’m, um...Vanilla. Vanilla Bean.”

“Ooh, vanilly! Filly Vanilly,” Bangles squealed.

Vanilla blinked in surprise as Lemon Zest rolled her eyes at her friends’ antics. “Vanilla, huh? Well, don’t mind Bangle, Vanilla. She’s just got this thing for nicknames.”

“O-oh. Alright then.”

“Anyway, now that introductions are outta the way, what’s a hoofmare doing all the way down in the kitchens? Wouldn’t they have gotten some regular maid like Bangle to do all this running around?”

“Hey!”

A small flicker of a smile touched Vanilla’s muzzle as she watched Lemon smirking through Bangle’s affronted pouting. Any trace of mirth disappeared, however, when the mares’ expectant gazes returned to her. 

“Well, no not exactly—”

“Oh, wait!” Bangles gasped. “I bet I know what it is! Remember,  Zest? I was telling you I’d heard some really interesting news from the ponies on night shift last night. Apparently the Witch and some crony ponies were escorting some important guest to the boss’ guest rooms.”

“Yeah? I wonder who it could have been.” 

“That’s just it! Now, you didn’t hear this from me, but I heard that, whoever they are, they’re somehow related to the boss’ mystery guest.”

“Mystery guest?”

“Yep! I’ve heard from a few sources who are gonna stay, like, totally anonymous that it’s a certain lord who’s been a little...friendly with our boss lately.”

“No way! Him? But if he’s here how come I haven’t seen him? I thought he loved to mingle.” Vanilla looked back and forth between the two mares as the shared interest of gossip caused them to gravitate together like planetary bodies.

“Oh, he does, but he apparently likes to do something else a little more. I heard they’ve been...talking. Fraternizing even.” Bangle ended her tale with a satisfied smirk that slowly faded as she realized the expressions on her confidants’ faces was more along the lines of lost and confused and less the scandalized fascination she’d been vying for.

“Yeah, so?” Lemon asked, her withers rocking up and down in dismissal.

“Oh, come on!” Bangle whined, eyes darting between the confused mares. “You, know what I mean, right Vanilla?” The mare in question jumped in surprised as her personal space was rapidly invaded by a distressed mare with a prodigious pout, even her various pieces of jewelry clicked in what seemed to be a piteous way.

“Uhm…”

Lemon rolled her eyes at Bangle’s groan of disgust. “Oh, for Cadance’s sake filly, just spit it out already.”

“What else do two adult ponies do in a room alone together for hours on end? Have secret, totally romantic love affairs, obviously!”

“What?!” Vanilla shrieked, her bruise stinging with the sudden onset of scarlet.

“Aha!” Bangle shouted triumphantly, pointing a hoof at her crimson face. “I knew it!”

Lemon Zest sighed. “And what’s this have to do with whoever the Witch brought in?”

“Well, I heard it was a foal!”

“A foal? No...you don’t honestly think—”

“And I think it’s totally theirs!” She squealed in excitement.

“That’s totally ridiculous,” Lemon deadpanned.

“But it makes sense, doesn’t it? From what I’ve heard they only let it out of the guest rooms to see them! And they have the Witch on guard duty twenty-four seven!”

“And I’m telling you that doesn’t make any sense! I don’t think the boss would hide her own flesh and blood away from the world. And on top of that, do they even look alike? Has anypony actually seen it up close?”

Bangle’s ears drooped slightly as she tapped her chin. “I’m not sure. The only pony I’ve heard that sees it regularly besides the Witch is whoever delivers its meals.”

Vanilla imagined she could hear the fizzle of light bulbs snapping to life above their heads as they turned to regard her with equal parts disbelief and wonder.

“No…”

“Vanilly!?”

The maid’s ears splayed back in a semblance of animal terror as she was slowly cornered against an empty meal cart by two intrigued mares. “I’m sorry girls, Malice would kill me if I said anyth—”

“Oh. My. Cadance!” Bangle whispered hoarsely. “Oh my Cadance, Vanilly you have to tell us everything right now! What is it? Just a guest; a dignitaries’ child? A niece or nephew? An illegitimate love-child born from an ill-considered but fateful night of reckless passion?!”

Vanilla’s eyes rolled in their sockets as she was gripped by a pair of iron hooves and shaken in excitement when the frenzied questions plying her from two sides were suddenly interrupted by a gruff shout.

“Oy, yous three!”

The three mares jumped as an angry stallion wearing an apron and chef’s hat and covered in the assorted colors of various sauce stains descended upon them in a fit of bombastic shouting, waving a wooden spoon around threateningly.

“What in the princesses’ names are yous fillies doin’ sittin’s around and wastin’ precious time’s? You!” He prodded his wooden spoon at Bangles whose shaking was causing her namesake to fill the air with the rattling of dozens of maracas. “There’s food sittin’ in dese carts waitin’s to be delivered’s! Get off ya rump and move it!”

As Bangle galloped off towards the waiting cart and began trying to shove its laden bulk out the swinging double doors, the remaining mares cowered together under the molten glare the chef turned on them.

“And yous, Lemon! When dese beautiful lids finish their blinkin’ I’d better sees you back at your station cookin’ and not fiddlin’ around doin’ nothin’. Or I’ll be zestin’ yous!”

Vanilla whimpered in fear as her last rock in the proverbial storm sank under the waves and fled back toward the lines of cooks and cookware with her apron flapping in the artificial breeze. 

Vanilla shrank down to the floor as the irate cook snorted in irritation before training his bloodshot eyes on her prostrate form. 

“I’m sorry!” She cried. “I was just sent down here to get a food cart for Mistress, I didn’t mean to intrude on your work! I’m just a hoofmare! Please don’t zest me!” She threw her hooves over her eyes, too afraid to stare her culinary doom in the face as he brandished his wooden spoon. 

“Ahh, quits your ballin’, miss. I won’t zest ya. Nothin’ personal but I don’t think yous would improve the soup’s taste any.” 

Vanilla squeaked as the chef bent down to pull her up by the collar of her uniform with his teeth. 

“You’s was gettin’ the Missus’ snack cart, yeah? We already gots it prepped.” He gestured with his spoon past the isles of empty carts to a waiting cart standing by the doors. Draped with a white cloth and filled with multi-tiered trays of small cakes, cookies, and a delicate looking tea set, Vanilla sighed in relief at her ticket out of the crazed kitchen.

“Strange, though. I coulda sworn’s that there were more cookies on dat platter.” He mumbled, rubbing his chin with a hoof. Vanilla nearly jumped out of her coat as he craned his head and bellowed at a row of cooks laboring over rows of neatly sliced pastries. “Oy, Shortcake! You’s haven’t been eatin’ the desserts while I wasn’t lookin’ again have you’s?!”

Seeing that the chef was now preoccupied with his underling’s indignant reply, Vanilla took the golden opportunity to press the cart through the rocking double doors with the brunt of her chest. As the doors closed behind her, she thought she’d heard a faint squeak, but passed it off as unoiled hinges.

Panting lightly as she and the cart travelled through the estate’s open-air hallways, Vanilla steered her burden down slanted ramps alongside white staircases and pushed it, rattling, along the cobbled paths between the gardens bordering the radiant forests. Glad of the moment of silence, Vanilla breathed deeply of the sweet, floral air that blew down from the Crystal Mountains and swept through the trees and gardens. Though the trees’ nightly glory was somewhat dulled in the all-encompassing light of Celestia’s gift to ponies, all it did was bring new facets of their beauty to bear, reflecting off of their bleached trunks like white metal.

Vanilla grunted lightly with exertion as she struggled up the final ramp up to her lady’s living quarters, the smaller, though no less elegant, cluster of buildings housing the lady’s more important guests and companions. She thought it was curious how heavy the cart seemed to be, seemingly laden only with tea and confections. 

Perhaps the extra sweets the chef had mentioned lay beneath the cart’s white cloth drape.

The hired guards that stood in front of the living quarters’ doors glared at her fitfully through the slits of their metal helms before recognizing her. Affirming her entrance with simultaneous nods, one of the armored sentinels rapped on the servant’s entrance to the side of the staircase with the flat of his partisan.

Giving a quick curtsy to the stallions, she swept her cart past them and through the opening door into a corridor sheltered from the cooler breeze that swept in from outside. The light squeak of her cart’s wheels and the click of her shoes on the polished floor filled her mind with the unpleasant thoughts of the last time she’d walked these halls. 

As she turned a corner down towards the used residences, the memory of the little filly’s face filled her thoughts once again. 

It’s important to pay attention to the little things, her mother had told her. 

“You may be surprised what you’ll find if you look at the details, odds are they’ll give you just that little extra you need to get ahead.”

Vanilla rubbed the cloth bandage taped over her sore cheek delicately. It wouldn’t be the first time her mother’s advice had failed her. A soft sigh escaped her lips as her mind’s eye recalled the thin, green foal, cowering behind her walls of books. She’d payed attention to the little things alright, and been slapped for it. 

The pessimistic thought crossed her mind again if maybe she’d been taking her mother’s advice the wrong way 

She’d looked so scared and miserable, with her bruised muzzle and the dried, crusty blood around her nostrils. As soon as Vanilla had laid eyes on the little ball of pony, her heart had leapt out to the filly. Vanilla hadn’t had much experience with foals  in her life. She was too young to have found a suitable husband or have a little one of her own and the only pony that she had worked for was her mistress, and as far as the maid was aware, she wasn’t one given to having children.

At least, that’s what she’d thought. Aside from the foal being the Mistress’ relative or the child of a guest, she couldn’t imagine what else it could be. The memory of Bangle’s assumption sprang to mind, and was immediately swept aside. As one of the lady’s hoofmares, she was one of the few ponies that got close to her on a daily basis. Vanilla didn’t pride herself on exceptional perceptive skills, but she believed she’d notice a pregnancy during her lady’s dressing.

Any further contemplation of the foal’s possible parentage was swiftly set aside as she turned onto the final path lined with wide arches sporting a panoramic view of the forests. 

Vanilla swallowed nervously as she sighted a blue-grey unicorn mare standing rigid before one of the intricately carved brass doors. 

“You are late,” Malice called in her husky tones.

“I-I apologize, Miss Malice, I got held up a little in the kit—”

“I am not interested in your excuses.” Malice interrupted sharply. “The only thing I am interested in seeing is Milady’s tea, and I find myself somewhat pleased to see you have not failed in that, at least.”

Vanilla winced at the unicorn’s tone as she rapped softly on the brass door with an iron-shod hoof. 

“Yes, Malice?” A soft-spoken, yet authoritative voice called from inside the room.

“Forgive my intrusion, Milady, but your maid has arrived with your tea.”

“Ah, excellent. Show her in, Malice.”

The unicorn stepped aside to her previous position, her horn shimmering beneath an oily wave of grey magic. She eyed Vanilla dully as the door clicked and slid open silently beneath her magic’s grip. 

“Milady bids you enter, maid. Do not keep her waiting.”

With a hasty nod, the mare swept through the open portal, which closed swiftly and silently behind her, and lowered into a full curtsy.

“Ah, Vanilla, you’ve brought the tea. Thank you for your efforts. Please, prepare a cup for our guest.”

“Please, dear. No need to rush on my account. Time taken makes tea all the sweeter in my opinion.” A soothing baritone confided. Vanilla once more fought down the urge to blush like a school filly as she felt his attention settle on her fully. Through some lucky blessing of the princesses, her hooves managed to stay steady on the pot’s thin handle as she gripped it with a thickly woven mitt.

“Thank you, my dear.” 

Vanilla felt a shiver run up her foreleg as a shoeless, golden colored hoof accepted the steaming cup and plate from her own. Bright, baby blue eyes glinted at her as he smiled in mischievous amusement. 

“Cold in here, is it my dear? I apologize, I find I dislike having the hearthfires a-roaring, as it were.”

“For reason’s I fear I’ll never understand, Cruciger.” A feminine tone chuckled.

“Ah, but Torc, my dear, you know me so well already! Can you not guess my reasoning? Very well, I shall tell you, lest the burden of knowing I left you as prey to the cruel grip of ignorance fall upon my withers!” He cried, sweeping the hoof not preoccupied with his cup to his chest dramatically.

“What use has one such as I for the warmth of a welcoming blaze, when the passions that fill my heart could set not only my own flesh ablaze with heat, but soothe the chills of another, held close?” Torc’s amber orbs rolled tolerantly in their sockets at the yellow stallion’s dramatics. She nodded briefly as she accepted a cup of her own from Vanilla, who had flushed lightly from the lord’s suggestive wording.

“I would appreciate you not scandalizing my hoofmares, Cruciger. Princesses know I can’t afford to replace any of them should they faint from overexposure to your antics.”

The stallion laughed loudly, throwing his head back and displaying rows of gleaming, white teeth. It was a charming laugh that caused the mares’ own lips to quirk in their own smiles. 

“Oh, of course Amber, I forget myself again it seems.” Vanilla swallowed nervously as the lord trained his gaze on her once more, fighting the blood rushing to her cheeks as his eyes roamed her body from mane to hoof. 

“Forgive me, my dear. I meant not to endanger your wellbeing. It is my misfortune to find I was born the sort to speak before thinking to censor such crude words.”

He smiled warmly, blue eyes twinkling as Vanilla nodded meekly, averting her gaze to the much safer, though less enticing, view of the domicile’s thickly-woven carpets.

“But enough of me, I should think. Would you consider, perhaps, Amber, that our little guest would like a cup of her own. I should think a nice cup would be just the thing to settle one’s nerves after waking up in a strange bed in a stranger home.”

Vanilla glanced up at the two nobles who had turned to regard a third, smaller seat set off to the side, as though dragged away from the two companions. She could just make out the soft green tufts of an improperly brushed coat sticking out past the seat’s arched back.

“I don’t want anything,” a tiny, sullen voice mumbled.

“But my dear, surely you must desire a little something,” the stallion cooed. “Perhaps a sweet cake or cookie at least?”

“No…”

“Such a dreary little girl. A young lady such as yourself should practice a little civility. Princesses forbid you should let Crux’s attitude rub off on you. I still find it hard to believe that stallion has children, adopted or otherwise. What is the Empire coming to I wonder.” Torc took a token sip of her tea as she eyed the back of the chair disdainfully, her amber eyes creasing in irritation.

“You wouldn’t say that if Mr. Crux were here to keep you in your place.” The filly shot back.

Vanilla gasped at the filly’s words, her eyes darting to her mistress, whose eyes widened in disbelief. The loud laughter of Lord Cruciger filled the room, his withers shaking in mirth.

“Well, at least Crux raises his children strong of spirit. No lack of it in this one, I see!”

“Why, I never!” Torc hissed. “Strong words to be said in his defense when she only refers to him by his name. My father would have had my ear if I had called him by anything less.”

Vanilla’s brow creased sympathetically as the filly’s green withers hunkered down further into the padded seat. Crux, was it? So that was her father’s name. She couldn’t remember hearing of a Crux arriving at her Lady’s estate. It didn’t sound as if he Lady approved of this stallion in the least, anyway.

“He’ll come find me. You’ll see.” The filly whimpered. 

“Find her? Does he not know she’s here?” Vanilla wondered. Her new train of thought was interrupted by a surprisingly dark chuckle from an unexpected source.

“Oh, I have no doubt of that, young miss. Your father possesses quite the repertoire of able companions. I must admit, I find myself envious of one in particular.” Cruciger tapped his chin thoughtfully as his eyes wandered the designs and patterns carved throughout the white wood of the ceiling. 

“However, not for too much longer I should think.” His eyes fell back down to meet those of the filly who had swept her bespectacled muzzle over the arm of the chair to stare at him.

“I personally believe there to be far more intriguing companions much closer at hand than the ones to which Crux is privy.”

“W-what are you talking about?” The filly asked, her voice wavering with her uncertainty.

“No, I should think that his presence will do little to upset things if we take the proper precautions,” the stallion muttered to himself once again before what would have passed for a charming smile split his lips. It possessed little in the way of friendliness however.

“How do you know so much about my father?” The foal asked, jumping up to place her hooves on the chair’s padded arm, her glasses bouncing low on the bridge of her muzzle with her anger.

“Oh, my dear. I should think it of little surprise when I say that I pride myself on knowing much of many ponies in our glorious Empire. It will be a great pleasure to make your father’s acquaintance at long last, I assure you. The opportunity has been a long time coming.”

Vanilla watched curiously as his eyes seemed to lose some hidden edge she did not recall them gaining. He glanced almost shyly back at her, rubbing his cheek with an embarrassed hoof before returning his gaze to the filly who had yet to look away from him.

“I will, however, apologize for your no doubt unexpected and prolonged visit to our dear Amber’s lovely home. I have no doubt that she agrees with me when I say that the necessity for your stay here was entirely unfortunate and unexpected.”

“Am I also to assume correctly, Torc my dear,” he asked as he glanced curiously towards the mare seated opposite him who was nervously fidgeting with her teacup. “That those employees of yours were reprimanded accordingly for their unabashed recklessness?”

“Yes, of course, my lord. they have been punished. Even Malice does not stand aloof from such an oversight.”

“Excellent.” The stallion murmured, smiling brightly before taking a sip of his tea. “Therefore, I should not have to worry about talkative maids either, correct?”

His eyes twinkled merrily as they settled on Vanilla, who kept a smile on her face as a strange shudder traveled up her spine, the coat on her neck standing on end. She saw her mistress shake her head firmly out of the corner of her eye, for which, for reasons unknown, she was very grateful.

“Vanilla is one of my trusted hoofmares. She knows better than to speak of anything she hears in this house.”

“Of course, how crass of me to ask. Please, forgive me my poor trust, my dear. It is simply that I abhor gossipers. There is a time and place for such things, after all.” Vanilla hurriedly nodded her acquiescence, to which he smiled warmly.

“I want to go back to my room, now.” Called the quiet filly’s voice, retreated back behind the chair’s support.

The golden stallion chuckled. “Of course, of course. Shall we call the young lady’s escort, Amber my dear?”

“I suppose so, my lord. We wouldn’t want to keep the poor dear overmuch.” Torc muttered.

“Now, now Amber there’s no need to set a bad example for impressionable youth.” Cruciger chuckled, eyes shining. “Oh, Vanilla, was it? Vanilla my dear, would you be so kind as to hoof me a cloth for my cup? Your lady’s tables are so lovely and I’d hate risk leaving a stain.”

“Of course, sir! Right away.” The maid cried.

Rushing back over to her cart, Vanilla was dismayed to see no cloths or towels in plain sight with the tea set before recalling the second level beneath its white cover. She flipped the drape back slightly and stuck her head in, peering about for a stack of linens. 

Quite a surprise to instead find a tan pegasus filly nestled amongst the cloths and covered in cookie crumbs.

The two ponies, mare and filly stared at each other. Both in shock, though one with rising degrees of horror.

“Is something the matter, Vanilla?” Torc called.

Vanilla blinked in surprise as the filly began rapidly waving her hooves in the air, shaking her head before silently clapping them together in supplication.

“U-uhm. No, ma’am. I must’ve bent down too fast, I got a little dizzy.”

“Well, come then. Bring Lord Cruciger’s cloth and be done with it. Malice! You may enter, please.”

Vanilla swiftly reached past the prostrate foal and grabbed one of the linens in her mouth. Lifting her head out from underneath the cart just as the door slid open silently, the steely unicorn striding slowly into the room. 

She bowed deeply, her eyes never opening as her head was kept low. “Yes, Milady? How may I be of service?”

“You may take this young lady back to her quarters.”

“I implore you to ensure that she remains comfortable.” Cruciger added.

Her ears flicked momentarily in what Vanilla swore was irritation before she bowed once more to Torc. “Of course, Milady. It shall be as you wish.”

Vanilla felt her heart give another strangled beat as she watched the filly, ears drooping, be led from the room in the wake of the dour Malice. As the door shut behind them, she delivered the linen to the smiling lord and curtsied.

“Will that be all Milord? Mistress?” She asked.

“Yes, thank you Vanilla. You may retire until sent for.”

Vanilla curtsied again as the two nobles bid her farewell. Pushing the cart out of the door and closing it carefully behind her, she closed her eyes. 

Inhale through the nose, out through the mouth.

In through the nose.

Out through the mouth.

Though she was too preoccupied to take much notice at the moment, she very well may have set several records for speed in pushing heavy burdens long distances.







“Alright, you...you...young lady! Get out...of that cart...this instant!”

Vanilla stomped the floor impotently, trying her best to heave more air past her lips to her starving lungs. 

As fast as possible, Vanilla had steered the careening cart around corners and through archways. Down ramps, past guardsponies and over a single janitor who had made the poor decision to drop to the ground in panic at the sight of the out of control tea set. 

Deciding that taking the stowaway to her own quarters was not the safest bet at the moment with the other hoofmares also on break, she’d chosen the first possible haven that she’d come across.

And so two ponies and a tea cart found themselves in a cramped broom closet full of mops, buckets and Pine Soul’s™ scented floor-cleaner. 

The only sound that Vanilla heard in response to her shout, however, was the the sound of her own labored breathing.

“Oh, come on. I know you’re still in there and I know you haven’t suddenly been stricken deaf. Get out of there!”

Slowly, and with great reluctance, the scruffy, silver maned filly climbed out from underneath the white linen drape, trailing smaller linen tea cloths and brushed herself off.

“And how do you know, huh? With how much you were shakin’ the cart around I could’a been struck deaf a buncha times.” The filly groaned as she stretched limbs that had cramped, no doubt from sitting huddled up amongst the linen. She grimaced slightly as she stretched her wings, however she seemed to shrug off whatever discomfort she felt and finished what appeared to be a practiced routine.

“That’s better. I hated hidin’ in those things anyway.”

“Oh, hide in tea carts often then, do you?”

“Well, I don’t try to make it a habit or anything, but yeah.”

“Do you mind telling me why?”

“Yeah, sure.”

...

“Well?”

“I meant yeah as in, ‘Yeah, I do mind.’, not ‘Yeah, I’ll tell you.’.”

“Don’t be smart with me, young lady.”

“I can’t help it!” Silver smirked. “When you live with the ponies I do, you don’t get to be the smart one very often.”

“Well if you don’t want to tell me why you were stowing away in Milady’s tea cart, I guess you won’t mind if I go report you to Malice.” Vanilla made as if to turn around and smirked in triumph as she heard the sharp gasp and frenzied beating of little hooves running. 

“Wait, wait!” Silver cried as she ran around in front of the mare, blocking the exit to the broom closet with a hoof held up in the air. “Okay, sheesh! I’ll tell you. No need to go ratting me out to the Frankenmare or anything.”

“Frankenmare?” Vanilla asked half laughing, her mind’s eye unable to not imagine Malice with two metal bolts sticking out of her neck. They would complement her coat color well.

“I’ve seen zombies that showed more life than that pony.” Silver deadpanned.

“Z-zombies?”

“I read a lot of horror comics, okay? Don’t judge me.”

“Uhm...alright?”

Silver nodded, satisfied before she inhaled deeply and let it out in a powerful sigh. “Alright, you found me stashed in the tea cart because I was hungry.”

“Hungry?” Vanilla asked askance, tilting her head.

“Yeah, I was hungry. You try going without food for a day and then finding a cart covered in cookies. They’re my weakness.”

“Cookies are your weakness?”

“I’m like, eleven, okay?”

“Okay, okay, fine. So you were hungry. Why had you gone an entire day without eating anything…uhm?”

“Name’s Silver, don’t wear it out.”

“Silver, right. So why did you go an entire day without eating, Silver?”

“Because I was hiding.”

Vanilla sighed, a hoof rising up to press at that spot between her eyes that was beginning to emit a curious ache. Curious because she usually didn’t get headaches. She wondered if it was because she was getting old.

“Alright, so you were hiding. Mind telling me why?”

“Yeah, sur—.”

“And don’t be smart with me again!” Vanilla interrupted, fighting off the infectious smirk she saw on the filly’s face.

“Ah, phooey.” Silver’s smile lasted another second before her sudden adoption of a serious demeanor surprised the maid.

“Okay, I’ll tell you why I’m here, but you’ve gotta promise me you won’t tell.”

“Well, that depends on what it is. If it’s really serious I’ll have to—.”

“No!” The filly shouted. “You can’t tell anypony! If you do, Olive could get hurt again!”

Vanilla blinked as she pegasus floated back down to the floor from the strength of her shout. She looked perilously close to tears. “Olive?”

“That green unicorn filly, close to my age?” Silver rubbed her eyes with the back of a hoof, trying to disguise a sniffle with a rough cough.

“How do you know about her?”

“She’s my sister…”

“Your sister? But that...does that mean you followed her all the way here?”

“You can bet your lacey maid suit it does! I stowed away in a luggage chest all the way here!” Vanilla stared with horror as the little filly puffed her chest out, no doubt proud of her accomplishment.

“I snuck in here and infiltrated the evil foalnappers’ fortress, and soon I’ll rescue Olive and take her back home while this place explodes in the distance just like in the movies!” Silver’s look of pride and confidence melted as her hoof left her chest to scuff sadly on the floor. “The plan won’t be finished until I find some way to have a guitar solo play in the background at the same time, but I’m workin’ on it.”

“By Cadance! You stowed away with Malice from wherever they found that little green foal—.”

“Olive.”

“—and now the only pony standing between you and sharing the same fate or worse is me!”

“Yeah, that’s another reason I kinda want you not to go ratting me out.”

“Oh, I can’t do this!” Vanilla moaned, pressing down on her ears with distraught hooves. “I’m no good at keeping ponies secret! I don’t handle pressure well! I’ll mess it up and then Malice will turn me into earth-pony jelly! And then I’ll be fired!”

Silver watched with awed fascination as the mare tried to cram herself in her same hiding spot in the tea cart. She finally managed to squeeze most of her body into the confined space, though most of her limbs were sticking out from underneath the cloth, where the cart began rattling with the force of the maid’s hyperventilating.

“Oh, nononono.”

“Are you okay, lady?” Silver asked, her eyebrows creased worriedly.

“No!” Vanilla shrieked.

“Well, if you’re gonna have one of those meltdowns that I keep hearing adults have, can we do it somewhere else besides a closet? I’m still really hungry and stuff.”

“Lady of Love, preserve me!”

> Revelations
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Thank you, Vanilla. You are dismissed.”

A quick curtsy in deference, a soft click of the door in its jamb, and Vanilla could breathe again. The mare leaned exhaustedly onto the support of one of the open hallway’s pillars. She sagged as her barrel inflated with weary breaths, her shoulder sending her messages of approval as it pressed into the pillar’s cool firmness.

Enjoyable as it was, the slight pleasure only brought to light the rest of her protesting body’s aches and pains. And her day was still far from over.

The Millennial Fair was fast approaching, and milady was leaving no stone unturned or painstakingly polished in her house’s preparations for her departure to the capital. Vanilla mused that her hooves had crossed every square inch available in the expansive, wooded estate. One minute spent delivering orders to the platoons of overworked gardeners who she’d swear were brandishing their pruning shears in a most threatening manner, and the next would be interviewing the captain of the guard.

There was also the celebratory feast to be looked after, but one hoof inside the saucy sauna and she’d been tossed out on her flank by the spoon-wielding chef.

And of course, there were the decorations to consider. All of them rather bedazzling affairs of magically suspended crystal scattered throughout the halls like captured stars. Their presence left the air aglitter with a kind of magic that brought a tear to the eye and a hint of joy in the appreciative gasps of ponies young and old. Torc had even been so determined to leave a good impression that she’d purchased a large crystal replica of the palace, complete with its own moonstone carved into a floating crystal heart suspended in its center.

Which, of course, had been made out of dozens of delicate, interlocking pieces of clear quartz that had taken her and the other hoofmaidens the better part of the morning to assemble in the courtyard. And which had left an abysmally thorough cramping in her neck. 

Notwithstanding affairs of the occasion, ponies from all over the forested region came to wish lady Torc well on her trip to the heart of the Empire. The guards had been near trampled by jovial craftsmares, workponies and business stallions alike as they moved to show encouragement to their representative in the tradition.

It was the first time Lady Torc had stepped hoof outside her estate in many days, and it had lifted Vanilla’s spirits to see the citizen’s excitement as Torc greeted them, a small smile on her lips. 

Vanilla had been in Lady Torc’s employ long enough to have heard and seen many things in that time. Often were the occasions when she would overhear complaints from ponies who had met with her mistress. Harsh, insensitive, cold: these had been words used in description. What Vanilla knew these ponies failed to realize however, was that Milady was a workhorse, plain and simple. Raised by orderly and dutiful parents, and gifted with a similar mindset that she had carried into adulthood, she had very particular quirks.

Amber Torc put her responsibilities before all else, she saw nothing in her life of higher importance than her duty to the empire and her ponies, and they loved her for it. Being one of the few empirical nobility to be full-blooded earth pony, she proudly displayed the philosophies of her race in every facet of her life and work. Loyalty, honesty, hard work, determination. Vanilla knew these were the traits that guided her lady’s life, and she simply had no tolerance for those ponies that lacked the same, or were unable to recognize them in her.

Which made the case of two little foals in what amounted to house arrest a troubling thought that kept resurfacing in Vanilla’s tired mind. She simply couldn’t understand why Lady Torc would do something like kidnap a foal, or why she would consent to hire thugs such as Grout and Rivet and keep them about the place. 

Vanilla bit her lip softly as a small thrum of apprehension rolled down her spine. She didn’t like to remember meeting those two stallions. They usually skulked around the barracks when they weren't following Malice around, and they were a common sight around the kitchen’s back entrance. Lemon had told her about how they commonly harassed maids as they left the kitchens. In fact, it had been the primary reason that Vanilla used the main entrance instead of the more easily reached back.

It has to be because of Lord Cruciger’s visits. She thought as her hooves carried her down well known halls to her quarters. 

She was so caught up in her thoughts that she almost didn’t notice the end of her path before her muzzle collided with the entrance to her room.

I hope I’m just worrying over nothing.

With a troubled sigh, Vanilla gave the door a sluggish kick. As it swung shut, leaving the sparsely furnished room in a partial gloom, she stumbled wearily to the sole mattress set in a corner and flopped onto it gratefully, the sudden absence of pressure in her back and hooves nearly bringing tears to her eyes.

Just a short nap. She’d done what needed doing for the time being, but no doubt there would be more awaiting her later. Even if this break was to be short lived, she finally had a moment to forget her problems.

“You don’t look so hot. Rough day, huh?”

Except that one.

Cracking one eye open, she blinked quickly as she suddenly found her personal space seriously invaded by two inquisitive young eyes. 

“Ever heard of personal space?”

“What’s that?” The filly grinned.

“Right.”

“Didja see Olive today?”

Vanilla sighed and rolled over onto her back, her forelegs pressed against her chest as her eyes roamed the ceiling. More to avoid the stare she could feel burning into the side of her head than for any sort of inspiration.

She could see the filly’s ears flop out of the corner of her eye. “No luck, huh?”

“No, my whole day was spent running around for Milady. No requests for food. Maybe she’s not hungry.”

“And my shoes are made of gold,” she mumbled through a mouthful.

“You shouldn’t talk with your mouth fu— What is that?”

“A cookie. Duh.”

Vanilla frowned as she eyed the crumbs that covered the filly’s face, dropping to the bedspread with every few words.

“Why did you get it?”

Silver paused mid-bite, glancing at the mare with a hesitant, slightly worried glance.

“You must be more tired than you look.”

The filly squinted as a powerful sigh swept over her, ruffling her silvery bangs.

“You know what I meant. You can’t keep sneaking into the kitchens like that, Silver. The cooks aren’t imbeciles, you know. You’ll get caught, and then where does that leave your sister?”

It had taken a little coaxing, but with the proper amount of concern and liberal application of bribery via assorted confections, Vanilla had managed to get the sisters’ story. As the pegasus had related it, the fillies had been minding their own business in their home before the foalnappers had burst down the doors and taken Olive, but not before throwing Silver out a window. Apparently even Silver’s superpony speed and keen instincts hadn’t been enough to deter the invaders.

Vanilla got the feeling that Silver might have embellished a little, but seeing as how Olive all but lived under Malice’s shadow for the time being, the mare hadn’t had an opportunity to receive any other versions.

“Okay, okay, I get it, alright? Sheesh! No need to have a foal or anything.” Silver huffed, leaping from the bed with a soft flutter of her wings.

“Ya talk like I’m the bad guy here or somethin’...”

“I didn’t mean it like that Silve—”

“Whatever.”

A soft, frustrated sigh escaped through the maid’s nose as she watched the sullen filly straighten the rumpled edges of her stained, grey hoodie that had gotten caught in the feathers of a wing.

As Vanilla observed Silver’s careful prodding around the feathery appendage, she remembered first discovering the wing’s injury. A large, splotchy bruise still stretched around the wing’s joint and across several of her ribs. As far as she could tell, nothing had been broken, but it appalled her that the filly had suffered such an injury at all, let alone secreted herself in a luggage compartment for such a long trip.

“—ello?”

And thoughts of one filly brought out thoughts of the other. It was true that the filly, Olive, had recently been turning down many meals, choosing to remain alone in her room so she hadn’t gotten a lot of time to see the little unicorn, but what little she had seen had stuck with her.

“Hello? Anypony there?”

The last time she’d entered the filly’s room she’d been astounded by the amount of opened books that had lain scattered across the formidably sized bed, nearly completely concealing the covers. The room’s bare bookshelves were the obvious source of literature. Malice had once again been announcing the maid’s arrival and had left her unable to ask for what reason she’d take such a session of binge reading. The similar titles she could see on the occasional spine however, meant her reading had purpose, at the very least.

“Oy!”

Vanilla shouted in surprise and pain as her ears vibrated from the force of the cry.

Silver huffed indignantly as she hopped down from the mattress, tucking her wings along her sides as she smugly waited for the mare to finish cradling her ear. “Serves ya right.”

“You didn’t have to shout in my ear!” Vanilla whined, rubbing said spot in an attempt to soothe the ache deeper in her skull.

“S’not my fault you weren’t payin’ attention. You didn’t hear a single thing I was sayin’ didja?”

The maid blinked in surprise. “Huh?”

The pegasus sighed, rolling her eyes. “I said how much longer am I gonna have to wait? You said your boss was gonna leave this place for the Fair at the palace, right? That’s my chance to get Olive outta this!”

Vanilla shook her head hesitantly. “I still think you should leave something like this to adults, Silver. Your father is Lord Crux, right? He’ll be at the Millennial Fair too, and I’m sure he’s looking for you two. Leave this to him.”

“He’s not my dad! And besides, if it weren’t for him we wouldn’t even be in this mess of ponyfeathers!”

“P-!  Language, Silver! And how could this possibly be his fault?”

“Duh, you were in that room with that creepy stallion too, right? You heard what he said, even if that lady’s goons foalnapping Olive wasn’t supposed to happen, they were still there for a reason. Who sends cronies to break into somepony’s house for kicks?

“And when they did show up, well he wasn’t anywhere to be found. Left us high and dry, just like adults always do.”

“But Silver, he couldn’t have known that was goin—”

“Doesn’t matter! He never should have left us in the first place.”

Vanilla couldn’t help her shoulders slumping in defeat, her eyes closing tiredly. This obviously wasn’t the topic to broach. “Alright. Yes, Milady and Lord Cruciger are leaving for the festivities at the palace. As a matter of fact, they’re leaving tonight so that they can arrive early the next morning.”

“Awesome! That explains the carriages I saw parked outside in the yard when I was gettin’ lunch. That’s probably how they’ll move Olive too.” 

Vanilla watched in curious amusement as the filly paced back and forth across the small space available in the room, her three legs slowly striking the carpeted floors as a forelimb rubbed at her chin in thought. Her wings extended themselves from her back slightly for balance. 

“Frankenmare’s too tightly wound for me to sneak into Olive’s room, I don’t even think I’ve seen her sleep since I got here. I could give a letter or a message to you or put it on the cart, but you said she checks the cart pretty well, and you’re not allowed to talk to her.”

The maid blinked as the filly trotted in slow circles in front of her, listing off a variety of scenarios for a possible rescue mission, then just as suddenly deny their possibility because of one or two qualities that left too much risk. To see the immature little filly logically breaking down a problem and approaching it in a similar manner left her surprised. It just seemed too out of her usual character for the mare to process.

It was no surprise the filly didn’t have her cutie mark yet if she was as unaware of her own talents as it seemed. Vanilla could take a few guesses as to what they might be, though.

Silver broke off mid-sentence as the sound of the mare’s giggling reached her ears.

“What’s so funny? This is serious business, ya know!”

“I-I’m sorry, Silver it’s just...you looked so serious wearing your puzzling face. All you were missing was a hat and a bubble pipe.”

“Puzzling face?” The filly asked, stupefied.

“Yes, you were talking like a detective or something.”

Vanilla was taken aback by the face splitting grin that suddenly stretched across the filly’s face.

“Really?!” Silver squealed, her eyes shining. “I sounded like a detective?”

“U-uhm, yes? At least, I thought so.”

“Awesome.” The filly whispered quietly, a smile still on her face.

“Anyway, I’m sorry. You were saying?”

“Huh? Oh, right. I was sayin’ that since they’ll be movin’ Olive in the carriages with ‘em that the best thing to do would probly be to hitch a ride again and follow ‘em there. There’s bound to be lotsa crowds there, right? Best chance to sneak Olive outta the place.”

Vanilla chewed her lip thoughtfully as her eyes roamed the ceiling, her mind going over the plan in more detail.

“I don’t know Silver, there’s still a lot that could go wrong with this. You managed to stow away in the luggage compartment last time, but who’s to say you’ll be able to do it again. There’ll be a lot more ponies than just the two foalnappers and Malice. You could get caught.”

“Yeah, I know it’s dangerous, but its better than stayin’ here.” Silver sighed, her frizzy silver ponytail bobbing as she stared at the floor. “You’re right about the sneakin’ around. At this rate I’ll probly get caught and that one stooge’ll recognize me for sure. I’m not any good to Olive if I get locked up too.”

“At least this way I figure even if I do get caught, hopefully it’ll be when we’re on the way there and they’ll have to take me with ‘em anyway. It won’t be how I planned to get to the palace, but I can make it work.”

“You have to be really sure about this, Silver. I’m one of Milady Torc’s hoofmaidens, so she’ll be taking me along for the trip, but I can’t do anything to protect you if they find you. And besides, I’m not entirely sure they will take you with them.”

Silver cocked her head to the side, an eyebrow quirked in silent query.

“I don’t trust the Lord Cruciger. He has this way of talking to ponies and this strange sort of charisma that he uses to get ponies to agree with him. I can’t be entirely certain, but I’m sure he’s done the same to milady. I wouldn’t be surprised if she hired those two goons on his recommendation. And I’m more than positive that you can’t let them get their hooves on you Silver.”

The filly’s ears splayed back along her head as Vanilla leaned close, the serious gaze drawing her own coppery eyes to stare into their hazel counterparts.

“Lord Cruciger doesn’t seem like the sort of pony to take chances. If they find you he might tell those horrid stallions to get rid of you, and despite the fact that I know how good of a pony she really is, I’m not sure Lady Torc would argue.”

“They might kill you, Silver.”

Vanilla watched as the filly swallowed nervously, her wings twitching in agitation before a measure of steel seemed to flow into the Silver’s limbs and her brow furrowed in determination.

“Yeah, they could, I know. But Olive’s worth it. I’ve been abandoned by everypony. First my...my parents, then by those crummy orphanage ponies, shipped around the empire from place to place because they couldn’t handle a pegasus. But not Olive. She’s my sister, and the only pony that’s always stuck by me through everything. And there’s no way in Tartarus I’m going to betray her like that!”

For some reason she couldn’t quite understand, Vanilla’s heart seemed to swell at hearing Silver’s declaration, and she couldn’t stop the warm smile that tugged at her lips.

“Well alright then. I can see you mean business. Okay, Silver, you can count on me. I owe my loyalty to my Lady, I can’t betray her or go against her in anything she does.”

“What? But then—”

“But.” Vanilla smiled warmly at the confused filly, her eyes sparkling fondly. “Milady expressed her own desires to eventually let your sister go. And it is my duty to assist her in all of her tasks. I suppose finding a way to get you into that escort could fall under that category.”

Silver grinned broadly. “Awesome! Y’know, you’re not too bad Miss Vanilla. For a grown up, that is.”

Vanilla laughed, her dark curls bouncing in her joviality. “You’re not too bad yourself, Silver.”

“So, any ideas for how to sneak me into one of those carriages?”

The ponies jumped, startled as a small brass bell hanging from an elaborate rack on the wall rang fitfully, jumping on the end of its rope and throwing its clear, sharp notes out into the room.

Vanilla looked up at the bell and sighed, her eyes glancing forlornly at the inviting pillows to her side.

“Well, looks like my break has flown out the window.”

“Sorry.” The filly mumbled, scuffing the floor with a hoof.

 “Don’t worry, Silver, it’s nothing. And as for the escort, well, you let me worry about that, I’ll think of something. In the meantime, you think of what to do when we do get you aboard. You can’t get all the way to the palace without any sort of plan in mind to deal with those stallions. And let’s not forget about Malice. She’s in a whole other league.”

Silver smiled, a determined glint in her eyes.“Right!”

“And please, do a little thinking about Lord Crux. You may think he failed, but in my eyes it was an honest mistake. He could make the difference in your plans to save Olive. I really think he deserves another chance, don’t you?”

The filly frowned petulantly, staring at the floor as Vanilla stepped off of the mattress 
with a soft groan. As the mare made her way to the door, she glanced over her shoulder one last time, giving the filly a smile.

“Like I said, give it some thought, hm?”

Vanilla took it as a good sign that Silver chose to say nothing. At least she hadn’t shot the idea down immediately. And if she chose to forgive Crux and bring his help into her plans, her chances of succeeding would likely go much higher.

Vanilla felt there might still be hope for this little family after all.







“A-achoo!”

Olive groaned as she rubbed at her sensitive nose, the violent gust of air feeling like hordes of miniature swords, cutting along the inside of her nostrils. She sniffed mightily as she felt another warm trickle of moisture run down her muzzle.

“Ow, ow, ow.” 

A tissue, levitating at the ready in her green magic pressed gingerly at her face, wiping away the offending ooze and leaving a bright red stain on the white cloth. Time had passed, and as always, it had healed much of her wounds. the bruise on the bridge of her muzzle had faded to a yellowish patch of skin, barely visible beneath her coat. Her nose on the other hand was still rather sore, and she discovered she was still very vulnerable to the occasional bloody nose.

Being careful not to cause a mess on any of the dry pages lying open before her, she pressed a new tissue carefully against her muzzle before glancing back down at the open text.

Her last discussion with her hosts hadn’t been the most pleasant experience, but at the very least it had been enlightening. Flipping the current page over with the dry crinkle of old paper, the unicorn poured over the lines of flowing text for any reference to what she’d been searching for.

With a sigh, Olive looked up from the book, shaking her head in irritation. Green light spiralled up the curves in her horn, magic filling every crevice with a physical manifestation of her will before radiating outwards in a bright flash as a small medallion poofed  into existence.

Once more, Olive looked over the intricate designs carved into the face of the silver trinket. 

It was because of this pendant that she was here now. Well, not the pendant’s fault, per se, but it was definitely what her foalnapper, Rivet she’d discovered his name to be one night, had been searching for. And if these two nobles keeping her under house arrest had hired him, then it fell to reason that it had been what they were searching for. 

Something she’d been told in her discussion with Cruciger the other day had struck a chord in her mind. Envious of her father’s “companions”, one in particular, he’d said. Call it intuition, but Olive was sure he hadn’t meant a pony. The way he’d said it made her consider some sort of group or force. Perhaps other nobility that offered Crux support?

Glancing briefly again at the medallion suspended in her magical grip she turned her gaze once again to the thick novel propped open before her on an overstuffed pillow. The fading gold paint on its cracked and worn casing labelling it as one of the more prestigious of its brothers, yet for all her searching had proven itself just as incapable.

She’d remembered seeing such a symbol as the one clutched in her telekinesis  in a reference section of one of her books back home, she was certain. In desperation, she’d taken down every available text within her room in the hopes that they might have similar details, or perhaps even another copy. No such luck.

With a huff, the filly slapped the cover down over the fading pages. Pressing her hooves to her eyes in an attempt to alleviate the disorienting whirl of words and phrases cascading across her vision behind her eyelids.

Cracking the irritated orbs open again, she began grumpily spinning the medallion before her as her gaze swept across the ransacked room. Similar books to the one before her lay scattered around the carpeting, the eldest stacked upon each other in an attempt to keep order. Though the many scattered throughout in random positions, either propped against objects where they’d landed or lying on their wrinkled spines told of her eventual disregard of organization in the face of disappointment. 

Her surroundings gave testament to time wasted.

Olive knew that if she wanted answers to her many questions, she would either have to return home and peruse again her own collection, or she would have to find access to a larger stock of information than her own quarters’ meager array could provide. The knowledge that neither was likely to become available any time soon only served to increase her frustrations. She turned her gaze roughly again to the trinket, as if to blame the offending item for her inability to find its likeness.

Her eyes roamed over its face with what had become practiced ease as she took in its details. A rough hewn crystal or stone of some kind lay inscribed on its surface, what was obviously painstakingly etched contours gave rich detail to the embossed object. The irregularly shaped thing itself was suspended over what looked to be a bowl or depression of some kind. What confounded her the most was its similarity to another similar symbol that she had seen a fair amount of times.

Her father’s symbol.

She may have spent an abnormal amount of her time in her new home perusing the place’s library, but she hadn’t lived there. Not for any lack of trying. The similar design had graced the forms of many things around the estate. Ledgers she had seen on the shelves had a small raised print of it on their spines, the iron knockers on the main doors were wrought in the same shape and the front gates sequestering the gardens also sported the same wrought iron symbol.

Olive had even been present a few times to watch Crux go about business in his office or at a board meeting. The mental image of Crux seated at a wide, oval-shaped wooden table surrounded by the hopeful faces of many ponies as he pressed a small golden seal into a blob of heated wax was fresh in her mind as she mentally compared the two images. 

There were really only slight differences in most of their features. The bowl shape made more curved and intricate, and the medallion’s bare outside edges were instead filled with phrases in Old Equestrian in its counterpart. No, the only striking difference was their most prominent features. While the silver medallion’s focus was on the rough hewn object, on her father’s seal the bowl held the Crystal Heart.

While the excess design she could readily dismiss, after all almost every pony in the empire today had seen similar words pressed into the silver and gold Cadenzas used as currency, she could not understand the need for their centerpieces to be so different.

Due to their similarity and the medallion’s apparent age, Olive could surmise that the medallion itself had been the design on which her house’s symbol had been based. But why the change to the Crystal Heart? Keeping the original as a rough hewn stone would, in her mind, make more sense. Slateridge was, after all, primarily a mining region. The differences that the seal possessed opposed to the medallion itself could be summarized as improving on the medallion’s concepts.

So the Crystal Heart was an improvement on the stone, logically.

Olive remembered asking Crux about the seal once his business at the Miner’s Guild had been concluded. She had posed her question as they trotted out of the building’s doors onto the cobbled streets. Making herself heard over the cheers and laughter of celebrating ponies inside the building had been difficult.




~~~




“Oh, yes. The family seal. An interesting design, to say the least. My father had it commissioned when he first took lordship, though I never thought to ask where it was he had gotten the idea. At the very least, I’d thought to ask what it meant. He said it represented how, just as the magic of this land upholds the Crystal Heart, so too do we and the ponies we watch over strive to uphold the values it represents. Truth, Love, and Loyalty.”

…

“No, Silver, I don’t use it to sign autographs.”


~~~


A ghost of a smile touched Olive’s lips as the memory played out in her mind’s eye, her true eyes still roaming over the medallion’s curiosities.

“So our grandfather had it commissioned? When he first took lordship. That must have been after the Heart had been constructed, it would certainly explain the change in design.”

As the trinket levitated before her, a small glint of light off of the dull metal drew her eye down from the stone to the curved depression it rested upon.

“Just as the magic of this land upholds it, hmm? Upholds it.”

Something about its shape raised uncertain thoughts in the back of her mind. Attempting to bubble to the surface, yet seemingly just out of reach.

“Just as the magic of this land cra-”

Olive blinked in surprise, her eyes glazed over as her focus lay elsewhere, her mind latching onto the stray thought with a desperate, iron grip.

“Cradles it?” She whispered. 

Her eyes widened as they snapped back over to the medallion, their attention directed away from the stone and onto the depression beneath it. “Just as the magic of this land cradles the Crystal Heart.”  Her mind felt as though it sped out of control with this now obvious connection, though she felt her thoughts occasionally stumble as memories of dark words and declarations passed on to her resurfaced. 


~~~




“Those ponies are the reason for the Cradle’s pain, my pain! They were the ones who stole the Cradle’s  heart in the first place! Were it not for their greed, my heart would be at peace!”


~~~




The Cradle’s heart? The Cradle was the source of the Crystal Heart? Olive felt her own heart thud rapidly within her breast as the pieces seemed to fall into place like puzzle blocks held in her magic. So the rough hewn shape on the medallion? That was the Crystal Heart. That would explain the change in the seal, after all Slateridge was the empire’s main crystal manufacturer. 

There were many jewellers who made their crafts in the city, and they had been for quite some time. Crystals didn’t just grow into a shape as strange as a heart naturally, after all. They had to be shaped, had to be cut.

Lord Aurol had had his family’s seal commissioned when he took lordship. And he and his wife had both been alive around the time the Heart had first been present. Had he also commissioned its shaping? 

His wife.

That’s right, Olive’s grandmother had also been present in that memory. Olive slapped a hoof against her forehead in aggravation, groaning with contempt for herself. Of course, how could she have forgotten?! Sable had sealed the Cradle, by her own words! And if the Cradle had once held the heart, it would make sense for her to have had access to it. That would make this medallion hers.

Sable guarded the Cradle with Sombra, but Sombra eventually fell to its corruption, to its anger. Anger? Did that mean that the Cradle was sapient? And the memory of Sombra had said that though Sable had sealed it, it wouldn’t hold forever. The Cradle would eventually break free again, and the only one who could hope to seal it again was Sable. But she was dead, and any hope of that had died with he— Well, actually that might not be true.

There was still Crux. There was still her father, Sable’s one and only child.

“Oh, I have no doubt of that, young miss. Your father possesses quite the repertoire of able companions. I must admit, I find myself envious of one in particular.” The memory of Cruciger’s words echoed through her mind, making her blood run cold as ice through her veins.

Had he meant the Cradle, then? Olive stared blankly into the comfortable bedspread without really seeing it, a hoof pressed into her chin and her tongue sticking slightly past her lips as her thoughts raced far ahead of her time and place.

But how did he know of the Cradle? Supposedly only Sable and Sombra himself had been privy to it, and during his rule Sombra had bent not only the bodies of his slaves, but their minds as well. Barely any pony in this day and age had any recollection of the events of Sombra’s rule, and a great amount of the eldest ponies who could remember what was before that had perished. Even then, the only things many could remember were the rattle of chains and cold despair.

Had he somehow escaped Sombra’s influence? Olive was still very young, but she had heard some things of the time when the empire had been brought back to present Equestria. There had been many ponies that Princess Cadance had had to physically depose. Those that for some reason, still clung to Sombra’s regime.

Perhaps then…

If that were the case, he would most likely be searching for some connection to Sombra, or at least his power. The Cradle would be an obvious choice, if any pony knew about it. That would make Crux an obvious target. 

But if the Cradle was sapient, then it wouldn’t be something you could just possess, like great magical talent or a powerful weapon. You would need to have some sort of bargaining chip. Something you could hold over the Cradle with no fear of retaliation. And what better ace than that which the Cradle held dear over all else?

The Millennial Fair was fast approaching, wasn’t it? And as far as she knew, every member of the nobility was to be in attendance.

And the Crystal Heart would be in the open.

The sudden rattle of a key in her room’s door lock startled her back to reality. With a hurried amount of focus, she sent the silver medallion back to the pocket she had crafted for it in her magic. Just as the last of the green light dancing on her horn dissipated, the door slid smoothly open and the tall, steel coated mare walked in, her eyes watching Olive with unblinking dedication.

“Y-yes?” Olive asked hesitantly, her eyes flicking between the unicorn and the open door behind her.

“Come with me, Milady and her guest are finished preparing for their trip to the palace and they bid me fetch you as well. You will be riding with them in their carriages.” Malice’s usual clipped tone bespoke no semblance of her emotions, but Olive could swear she appeared irritated though she could not place why.

Olive squeaked in surprise and panic as she was grasped in a thick, sturdy field of grey magic, pinning her limbs as she was lifted bodily from the bed, being drawn past the mare and out the door. 

She had been right. They were going to attend the Millennial Fair, and more likely than not, so would her father. As she hung suspended in the air before Malice,  the older mare’s long stride ate up the distance between them and the distant view of ponies running to and fro between a line of carriages on the grassy court before the main doors. Olive’s brow creased in a mixture of thought and worry.

“I personally believe there to be far more intriguing companions much closer at hand than the ones to which Crux is privy.”

Olive had a bad feeling about the Fair and what it entailed not only for her family, but for the whole Empire if Cruciger had his way. 

And she had a bad feeling that things would get a whole lot worse before they got any better. 







“Here you go, kiddo! Thanks for the purchase.”

The colt grinned widely in anticipation as the jovial stall owner hoofed the young pony a large, fried treat absolutely coated in powdered sugar.

“Enjoy the Fair!”

Grasping the sugary treasure awkwardly in one hoof, the colt spun off and dashed into the crowd. Wobbling somewhat unsteadily on three legs, the colt weaved through the narrow gaps present between ponies. Squeezing past suited business owners and exasperated mares shepherding groups of foals while managing to accidentally dust only one unfortunate stallion with powdered sugar, he was looking golden.

“Hey, watch it kid!”

“Sorry mister!” The colt called, glancing back over his shoulder with an only somewhat apologetic grin. Out of the corner of his eyes, he noticed the crowd growing thinner around him and, thinking himself nearing the edge of the throng, put on an extra burst of speed.

As the sense of freedom filled him and warm thoughts of how happy his older sister would be when he showed her the treat he’d gotten them played in his head, the colt turned back around to face his path. The grin stretching his lips widening even further.

Just in time to run headlong into a much bigger and very surprised pony. 

The stallion grunted as the colt’s forward momentum was suddenly brought to a screeching halt by the collision with his barrel. Falling to the cobbles with a muffled exclamation of surprise, the colt rubbed his snubbed nose gingerly, his eyes watering.

Blinking furiously to clear his eyes and also to clear away the emasculating tears, the colt couldn’t help but groan as his eyes looked down to the mashed and dirtied snack, crushed flat by his weight and the unexpected impact. His eyes snapped wide open as he remembered that he had indeed smacked into another pony and he winced as he noticed the large white stain that stood out like a fresh patch of snow on the stallion’s dark green vest.

“Aww, horseapples,” He muttered thickly around his swollen nose. “Sorry mister, I didn’t mean to mess up your su—”

The colt found his words of apology die unuttered in his throat as his eyes rose to meet the piercing gaze that seemed to bore its way into him. It seemed like the colt’s very nightmares had stepped out of the recesses of his mind and into reality. Whispered words of terror from parents and guardians mixed with dimly remembered flashbacks, brought to light by the sight of the pony before him. A cruelly sharp horn glinted in the sunlight as the head it rested upon loomed over him, casting the pony’s face into shadow save faint traces of light that seemed to reflect unnaturally from green orbs.

“A-ah, I-I d—uhm.”

“Well?” The stallion snapped with a quiet, controlled voice. “What have you to say for yourself, colt? Out with it, I have little time and even less patience.” The words seemed to hiss from his lips like air escaping out of a pinhole in one of the many float balloons tied to every feasible grounding.

Something in the stallion’s tone told him he should say something, anything rather than allow the silence that seemed to have settled over the fairgrounds to continue. His eyes flicked quickly around his surroundings, hoping for some sort of distraction or way out of what had quickly become an unsettling situation. Nearby ponies appeared either oblivious to his dilemma, or watched from the safety of what was a wide ring centered around the stallion. The colt realized with a cold sinking feeling in his chest that what he had mistaken for the edge of the crowd had, in reality, merely been ponies avoiding what he’d dived into head first. Literally.

The harsh sound of a throat clearing itself raked across the colt’s hearing and dragged his gaze kicking and screaming back to meet that of the increasingly irritated pony staring down at him with the coldness of Outer Wastes themselves.

The colt’s brain sent hurried instructions to his slack jaw to quickly say something, yet such requests were completely denied by the inexplicable cold that seemed to have settled in every inch of his body, seizing limbs and thoughts in a vice like grip as the two continued to stare into one another’s eyes.

“Ah! Young master!”

The stallion’s gaze eased momentarily as the pony turned to face the sound. The colt felt sudden warmth flood back into his hide as his starving lungs sucked in a greedy gasp. Breathing heavily, the colt tried his best to stand on shaky legs, if only to expedite his retreat back into the crowd and away from those green eyes that he could still see in his mind despite their being turned away.

“Merlot.” The stallion mumbled, some of the irritation and coldness bleeding from his voice like melting ice as the purple butler cantered slowly toward them. “I see you’ve gone ahead and disobeyed me again. I thought I asked you to stay with the carriage.”

“Oui, young master, you did. But the carriage, she was so stuffy, yes? I simply had to step out and stretch stiff legs, non?”

Momentarily free of the grey stallion’s terrifying stare, the colt jaw dropped in horror as he watched the smarmy purple pony smirk pleasantly in the face of the grey stallion’s growing irritation. 

“You know full well the limitations of your condition, Merlot. Let alone you following me to the capital against my protests, the hospital had you confined to bedrest! You can’t be out and about like thi—”

“And allow you to be having all the fun? Sacré bleu, perish the thought! It is the Fair, young master! Forget once a lifetime, this is an event that is only seen once every dozen lifetimes! I will not let some silly scrape lay me low during such an event!”

“S-scrape?!” The aghast noblepony spluttered in disbelief as the purple butler smoothed his immaculate green moustache. The colt, stricken immobile by the outrageous contrast between the two ponies, felt the hair along his spine curl in surprise as Merlot turned to regard him.

“Mon dieu! What has happened to you, young sir? You look as though you have seen several ghosts, yes?”

Blinking in surprise, the colt glanced down at himself to see his coat completely matted by white powder. It seemed that the stallion was not the only one to receive a dusting from the earlier incident.

“Ah, yes. This one.” The colt’s limbs twitched as the stallion’s gaze settled over him again, though the same wave of cold that had gripped his limbs previously did not come to pass. “Not watching where he was going, it seems. Ran into me and crushed his funnel cake.”

“Indeed? So that’s what that stain was, young master. The thought had crossed my mind that perhaps you had taken the liberty of confiscating the stalls’ goodies.” Merlot smiled warmly down at the colt, oblivious to the smouldering glare directed at him by his companion as a burst of magic raised the young pony from his prostrate position on the cobblestones. 

“I take it the young master has not yet made reparations for the tragedy that has befallen your sweet treat, non? Please, I beg your forgiveness, my boy. He is just a lad, and knows not what he does.” Blinking in surprise as Merlot bowed his head shamefaced, a slight giggle managed to escape the colt at the stallion’s absurdity. 

“Excuse me, Merlot?” 

“Oh come now, young master. Not only do you trounce the poor lad’s treat but you deny your guilt? Look at him, for pity’s sake!”

Crux sighed as the colt obliged Merlot’s ridiculousness, his eyes watering and lower lip quivering piteously. 

“Fine. Fine! Here boy, take this and go before you give this old codger more reason to embarrass me.”

The green spire on his head radiated with a dull green light as a small pouch flew out of the unicorn’s vest to land in the surprised colt’s hooves. His eyes nearly bugged out of his head as he gaped at the pile of coins nestled in the small bag.

“Whoa! Thanks, mi—.” 

The colt’s wide smile vanished instantly as he looked up to the stern frown beating down upon him. 

“R-right, sorry! Taking and going!” The colt grasped the pouch strings tightly in his teeth and took off running back into the crowd, his mane pulled back from the speed of his flight. This time, his eyes did not waver from watching his path. A small voice in the back of his head said not to chance looking back again anyway, just in case it might make the noble angry again.

“Try not to spend it all at once, my boy!” The butler’s voice called out over the crowd as the colt’s hooves carried him further away.

He wouldn’t be doing that, that was for certain. The first thing he would do was find his sister and let her buy the cakes. He wasn’t willing to take the chance of running into them again, he’d much rather relax a little. 

A boy could only handle so much excitement.









Crux snorted in irritation as he swiped a hoof over his once more stainless vest, Merlot’s magic having made quick work of the sugary patch. 

“There. Good as new, non?”

Crux grunted noncommittally as he resumed his brisk pace toward the tall crystalline towers of the palace in the distance, the crowd of ponies parting around him like fields of grass.

“At least I’ll still be presentable when I arrive at the palace. Just my luck to run into a little colt carrying one of the messiest treats to be found in this place.”

“Well, young master, that’s what happens when you leave your carriage and go strutting through the streets, bold as a peacock! You get dusted.” Merlot chuckled merrily as the two ponies managed to make it out of the surrounding attractions, the crowds watching the floats and dancers beginning to thin out as they edged toward the Commons.

The transition from packed streets and gleaming crystal buildings to a more sedate stroll through tended parks and gardens struck the two like a physical blow, the lack of noise and constant pressure from so many bodies so close together seemed to allow breaths taken to seem deeper, more refreshing. Even Crux’s surly expression dampened somewhat as they stepped farther into the less packed area.

The ponies present in the Commons, though fewer in number, were no less festive of spirit. Small parties being held in groups near riverbanks and under shady trees on patchwork picnic cloths were visible wherever one turned their heads. The more relaxed atmosphere of revelry nearer the Crystal Palace was indicated by the presence of curiously dressed infantry that patrolled up and down the crystal cobble paths, their postures reflecting mirth and merriment that was bellied by their eyes that darted every which way. These ponies were anything but distracted. 

The Crystal Palace loomed nearer now, the large arching branches that formed the structure’s supporting legs stretched far into the well-kept fields of the Commons, the light streaming from the low hanging sun sent brilliant rays of gold reflecting off of the tall spires like oiled brass, which combined with the multi-colored pennants flying from poles upon the ramparts gave the usually blue-tinted crystal a more regal, imperious appearance.

“Oh, how lovely. Even Celestia herself it seems celebrates with the Empire this day, non?” Merlot smiled whimsically as he seemed to bask in the sights around him.

“I suppose.” Crux mumbled, eyes glued to the base of the building rather than its peaks. From this distance could be seen the grand staircase beneath the palace. A winding path spiraling up from the ground glittered in the sunlight even from this distance. Guardsponies stood vigil on either side of a rich red carpet that extended up the entirety of the glass structure to the inside of the palace above.

Assorted carriages could be seen arrayed around the stairs’ foot, the ponies strapped to their harnesses chatting amiably with each other as they walked their burdens to the front of the entrance to drop off passengers or arraying themselves in wide arcs from the stairs to await the time to pick them up again.

Crux growled in frustration as he noticed his own carriage and driver parked amongst the others.

“Tut, tut young master. You should have known better than to leave the carriage.” Merlot chided, having seen where Crux’s attentions were focused.

“The crowd was so thick upon arrival, I thought the carriage would have little chance of arriving on time. How was I to know it wouldn’t be easier on hoof?”

Merlot didn’t answer, merely chuckling as his ward’s frown soured further.

“Hail, esteemed lord!”

The shout raced down from the path ahead, drawing the two ponies’ attention as they turned to regard an approaching retinue of armored ponies.

As the guards drew nearer and their dressing became clearer, Crux blinked in surprise and a little nostalgia as he beheld their garb. While it was obvious at a glance that the armored forces before him were Royal Guard, it it felt to him as though they had stepped out of the pages of history themselves. Mares and stallions alike were dressed in heavily engraved brass armor with a delicacy to them that bespoke age beyond counting. 

The decorative pieces didn’t look all that effective anymore in Crux’s eyes. Though they had no doubt been painstakingly polished, the old metal still looked very brittle and angular. There were even several ponies that were missing whole pieces of gear entirely, brightly colored scarves and cloths were wrapped about their bodies to artfully disguise the missing defenses.

A small laugh of amusement from Merlot drew Crux’s scrutiny away from the outlandish soldiery and he was too late to suppress a groan of horror and dismay as he saw what it was that had so distracted his companion.

One of the ponies was marching forward from the line of others wearing what had to be the most ridiculous get-up Crux had ever seen. Similarity to his fellows ended in that he too wore the same set of ancient armor as the others, polished to a mirror sheen. What stood out about him were the swaths of painfully pink cloth so bright it stung the eyes to do more than glance at wrapped decoratively around his armor, draped over his shoulders and around his barrel. But the centerpiece had to be the enormous red feather that sprouted from his helm like a battle standard, swaying in the slightest breeze like a drunk giraffe. Almost as long again as the soldier was tall, the atrociously fluffy abomination settled as the pony came to a halt a respectful distance from the duo.

“We say hail, esteemed lord!” The pony’s familiar shout echoed from inside of his helmet, the old metal rattling loudly from the force of the vibrations. “‘Ere Celestia’s awakening have we waited for the arrival of thee and thine peers. Henceforth we fondly welcome you to join in our merriment on this most joyous of days!”

Crux moved to nod graciously as the pony swept into a deep bow, but was caught by surprise as the movement brought the feather rushing mercilessly down to flutter about his face distractingly.

“Ack! P-phhut! S-stop that, you imbecile!” Crux spat as the feather wiggled about his muzzle. He turned beseechingly to Merlot for assistance as the armored pony seemed oblivious to the havoc he was wreaking. “M-merlot, stop him!” 

Suffice it to say, Merlot was laughing far too hard to do much of anything.









“Crux, you made it on time!” Shining said, his visor raised above his head next to the garish red feather. His face was split by a wide smirk that contained no little trace of satisfaction. “I’m glad to see you made the trip in one piece.”

Crux harrumphed.

“Ah, c’mon Crux, it’s a party...sort of. Just a little fun and no harm done, right?” Shining snickered.

“Grramaphrmm.”

“Merot wasn’t it? Was that Equuish?” Shining asked aside to Merlot, the purple butler still having some small difficulty taking full breaths as he wiped his eyes with a kerchief.

Merlot finally managed to settle his mirth and patted his chest soothingly. “Equuish or not, I feel I understand the young master’s sentiment, my lord. That was the most ridiculous thing I’ve seen in years.” He eyed the swaying plume perched on Shining’s head with no small amusement and perhaps just a little admiration.

“Very cunningly designed, Monsieur.”

“‘Nothing without purpose’ my old drill sergeant used to say. Or at least I think so. It was always hard to tell with all the shouting.” Shining smirked.

“Was all of that really necessary?” Crux stared flatly at Shining with a particular kind of seething that can only be displayed by the truly grumpy.

Shining let loose a small bark of laughter. “I just got done greeting Jasper, you tell me.”

“Oh,” Merlot sighed, a wistful look on his face. “I wish I’d been there to see that.”

“Truly a sight to behold.” Shining uttered sagely.

“Foolishness aside,” Crux ground out from between his teeth, his eyes flicking between the two ponies.”Am I to assume that means that everyone has arrived for the ceremony?”

“Well, you just got here so that leaves the Amber Forests and the High Peaks.”

“Torc and Cruciger.” Crux muttered.

“That’s right. I received word just a bit ago that they entered the main gates, so I’m sure they’ll be here any minute now.”

“Perfect.”

Shining arched a brow, eyeing the glowering noble curiously. “You’re looking for those two specifically or something?” 

“Something like that.” Crux muttered as he stepped past the surprised prince, striding purposefully toward the carpet lined staircase to the upper levels. Those ponies on duty beside the gilded elevation saluted smartly as he approached.

“The princess welcomes you with open hooves to the Millennial Fair and the Crystal Palace, Lord Crux. We await the arrival of more guests, but we have made ready accommodations to suit you in the western—”

Shining stared in confused silence as he watched the surly lord ascend the stairs and vanish from sight around one of the spirals. He blinked and frowned as Merlot stepped abreast of him, a somber look in his eyes.

“What’s eating him? I mean, we’re not exactly besties and he’s not a second Element of Laughter, but he looks like a parasprite ate his cornflakes.”

Merlot sighed as he eyed the retreating form of his employer. “Things have not exactly been going as smoothly as they could have since the young master last left your palace, mon prince.”

“What do you mean?”

“There have been some...complications with the filles.”

“The girls? What, did they have a fight or something?”

Merlot shook his head sadly. “If only it were that simple.”

“Well, don’t leave me in suspense or anything. Spill it.”

The butler hesitated, eyeing Shining uncertainly before turning once more for another glance up the staircase.

“I hope, Prince Armor, that you understand what it is I mean when I say I do not reveal this information lightly. My entire life has been spent in willing service, and the majority of that to the Crux family. My master prefers to keep such things within his own walls rather than seek outside interference. I do this only out of true concern for my master’s well-being and that of his daughters.”

Shining nodded an affirmative, his face set and showing no emotion save that of cool discipline.

“The girls were...they were foalnapped, my lord.”

“You’re certain?” Shining asked quietly.

“Oui. My master’s estate suffered a break-in just a scant few weeks ago and I myself was laid low and bedridden by the scoundrel.” Merlot related the details of the event in an even, quiet voice that betrayed little emotion. “Captain Ash, leader of our region’s local regiment, confirmed the break in and linked it with similar cases. Apparently it has been happening several times around the Empire, non? He reported signs of struggle and with the girls missing and no signs of them anywhere, he could only suspect the obvious.” 

“Has there been any further news on the investigation?”
“None as of yet.” Merlot said

“I see. That would certainly explain Crux’s mood. I take it he hasn’t responded well to the lack of success?”

“That would certainly be one way to put it, oui. Their loss has made my master’s personality take...a turn for the aggressive. He says he has his suspicions about the perpetrator and believes he will be able to meet and confront them at the gathering.”

“He suspects one of the nobility?”

“I’m afraid so. And I fear that he shall indeed confront them, guilty or not.”

“If you believe there should be concern for his safety I can post a guard—”

“Non, Monsieur. I am less concerned for my lord than I am for those around him.”

“Is he a danger to the others?”

“I will say...that his family does not have the best track record when it comes to taming their passions, non?”

“I’m not sure I understand what you…wait, do you mean Sombra?”

Shining blinked in surprise as Merlot flinched as if struck, his eyes clenched shut.

“Oui.”

“I apologize, I didn’t mean to stir anything up if I did.”

“Ce n’est pas grave, monsieur.”

“I’ll take that to mean ‘it’s okay’. Are you really so concerned about Crux? I know he’s related, but that hardly seems like reason to worry. He’s not Sombra.”

“Non, he is not his uncle.” Merlot muttered.

Shining looked askance at the morose stallion. “You don’t sound so certain of that, if you don’t mind my saying so.”

“My master is a good pony, Shining Armor.” Shining frowned as Merlot fixed him with a withering stare. “I have been at his side his entire life. I have raised him from a gangly little colt into a moderately less gangly stallion and in all that time never once has he raised his hoof in anger against another.”

“And yet you voice your concern to me.” Shining coaxed.

Merlot blinked once slowly. Twice. A third time before looking up at the Crystal Palace with a gaze that could only be described as sorrowful. “He is not his uncle...but he is as capable.”

Shining was silent for a time, his only action was to observe the purple stallion before him as he in turn was observed. Finally, after what seemed a small eternity, Shining spoke.

“You think he could be a second Tyrant?” Shining’s gaze was unreadable, but that didn’t stop it from digging deep into the eyes of the other pony. “I’m going to assume you know how big of an accusation that is, considering the nation we live in.”

“Non. I accuse my master of nothing,” Merlot snapped in the negative. “My master is a better pony than that monster ever was in every single way. He would be worse, in every single way.”

…

“Who?” Shining asked quietly.

“Pardon?”

“Who was it you lost? I may not be much older than Crux myself, but I was Captain of the Royal Guard years before I became prince. I know what loss sounds like. Who?”

“I —”

“I’ve met ponies who were tortured personally by Sombra that spoke with less hatred in their voice than you do when you speak of him. And an anger like that isn’t something you just grow casually.”

Though the butler never moved physically, Merlot seemed to curl in on himself as the seconds dragged into moments. Shining never stopped watching him intently.

“My wife.” Merlot breathed in a low whisper.

The barest of winces escaped Shining’s stoic mask as he watched something fade from the pony’s face. Shining may have been a soldier, but he shared the same weakness of many stallions. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Don’t be, Prince Armor. I appreciate that our royalty is so capable of empathy, but it was long ago and time has helped to dull the pain.”

Shining nodded as he allowed Merlot a moment to collect himself. 

“So what happened?”

“My lady...she was as beautiful as the day was long. As caring as Kindness herself, and as stubborn as the land she was born in.” A small smile touch Merlot’s lips as his eyes seemed to follow sights from memories long past, but it too faded as the moment passed and he continued. “When the Tyrant first began to make his move against the last queen, many ponies doubted a single pony alone could truly pose a threat to her rule. But what many of them did not understand was that Sombra’s power did not come from his affinity with dark magics. Non, his true strength lay in a tongue gilded in silver.” 

“Like dominoes, nobles fell one by one under his sway. Either for power or some other dark desire pent up in their hearts, they united under his banner. There were some who resisted, the Lord and Lady Godric, my then employers, and the Cruxes to name but a few. In the end, the Tyrant overthrew the royalty and had the queen’s skull mounted on his chariot.”

“Charming.” Shining muttered.

“Oui, he thought it fitting. Many ponies today know him as a tyrant, a slavemaster who worked the crystal ponies mercilessly and with unerring cruelty, but he did not start off enslaving the common folk. Early on in his rule, there was an attempted revolution.”

“And your wife was a member. “Shining concluded.

Merlot nodded somberly. “I never saw her alive again.” He said.

“Did you ever find any trace of her? Perhaps she didn’t—”

“Non, I saw her again. Just...not alive. I too have been afflicted by the strange haze of the mind that has muddled the thoughts and memories of ponies that survived the Passing, but one thing I have never forgotten was the seeming joy Sombra held for displaying trophies.”

Shining felt the fur along the nape of his neck stand on end as the pony looked at him, his eyes filled with a horrific mixture of deepest misery and buried pain. “I hope you never experience such a thing, Prince Armor, even in your darkest nightmares.”

Merlot inhaled shakily, his eyes leaving Shining’s to contemplate the crystal cobble beneath his feet. “I confess, I went mad for a time. I howled and raged at the moon and cared little for anything else save those thoughts of my own weakness that ate at my mind like acid. ‘I should have saved her!’ I would cry, ‘I should have died with her!’. But in the end, all I ended up truly caring for was revenge.”

“I told you, non, that Lord Godric was my then employer? A kinder pair of ponies you will be hard pressed to meet. Concerned for my health, they asked that I consider retiring, leaving the country and doing my best to forget what was happening in the Empire. I refused and, respecting my wishes, they asked that I then consider working for friends of theirs, the Cruxes. The Slateridge region lies in a far corner of the Empire, pressed up against the foot of the Crystal Mountain Range and elevated above the surrounding land by great plateaus of rock and slate, which give it its namesake. These, amongst other things, had left the region mostly unaffected by Sombra’s tyranny and as such, it had become a haven of sorts for ponies in the Empire.”

“They had hoped working in such a place would help me distance myself from my pain in more ways than one. Respecting their desires myself, I agreed and left to enter the employ of the Crux family. They were grateful for my presence, and I was kept quite busy. The Lord Aurol and his lovely lady had just become proud parents of a child of their own. A little grey fluffball of a colt that they named Jet, apparently after a favorite gemstone of his mother’s. For a time, I was busy enough to allow my painful thoughts to be pushed to the wayside. Not happy, for at the time such a thing was beyond me. But content.”

“It was around this time I discovered something very interesting.”

Shining’s ears flicked in unease, detecting something in the butler’s voice that caused him to take a half step backwards before he could catch himself. Before he’d realized it, he’d loosened his sword in its scabbard though Merlot had taken no notice.

“The Lord Aurol’s wife, Sable? As it turns out, she shared more than a passing relation to the Tyrant whose iron hoof was slowly crushing our Empire like a vice. A sister no less, which of course would make the infant whose daily care was my responsibility his nephew, non? I was surprised to say the least.”

“Mister Merlot—”

“Many in my position would consider such a thing to be the perfect opportunity, after all so did I. So fortuitous, non? A chance given by the Maker herself! All of those buried emotions from before came rushing back like a tidal wave and I was unable to stop them. I may not have been able to lay a hoof on the Tyrant himself, but his nephew? For most of the day it was simply he and I so who could stop me?”

The two ponies stared at each other, the seconds passing into minutes as each waited for the other to act. Each wishing for the moment to end for different reasons yet the both of them were rooted to their spots unable to escape the situation’s pull.

“Merlot, I sympathise with what you had to go through but why—”

“I couldn’t do it.” Merlot whispered.

“What?”

“I could not commit the act. I had everything planned perfectly. The Lord and Lady were out amongst the guild leaders and the majority of the guards had gone with them. I had gained the trust of the other servants and house guards so they would not impede me if I needed to leave quickly on some false errand or another. It was just he and I alone, and I with the knife in my hooves. But I made a mistake.”

Merlot’s tongue rasped as it escaped the confines of his tight jaw in an attempt to moisten his lips.

“I looked him in the eyes, and he in mine. In that moment I-I was weak. I lost my courage.”

Shining felt his muscles relax slightly as his magic’s grip on his sword hilt eased. That sort of manic energy that had filled Merlot’s voice had departed and left in its wake an empty, exhausted pony whose legs shook with the effort to remain upright. Struck by an impulse he could not explain, Shining placed a comforting hoof on the butler’s withers. 

“Compassion is not weakness, Merlot.” He soothed.

“But to me in that moment, it might as well have been.” Merlot hissed quietly through his teeth, hot tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. “I felt as though I had failed her, failed her memory and my love.”

Merlot seemed to struggle a moment, a hoof pressed tightly over his eyes to stem the tide of tears that coursed down his muzzle. Shining’s hoof never strayed from its spot.

“But I could not help myself,” Merlot sobbed. “So I did my duty. I helped raise the young Jet, a bright and inquisitive little thing. And in time, I came to love him as my own.”

A silence settled over the two ponies as Merlot struggled to reign in his emotions. Shining stood patiently and waited as, slowly, the tears dried and Merlot managed to open his eyes. He may not have been smiling, but he was still standing and that’s all that Shining cared for at the moment.

“Why tell me this?” Shining asked gently.

“So that you are aware, mon prince.” Merlot said thickly, dabbing at his face lightly with the same kerchief from before in an attempt to preserve his modesty. “My master has great potential, but he is young and not yet in full control of himself and his emotions. I pray that Jet and the girls come out of this unscathed, yet it may come to pass that the young master will lose control of himself and I will not be able to stop him.”

“Should my fears, his mother’s fears, come to pass, I will not be able to stop him. I love him too much. I do what I can to steer him toward the path set down for him by his mother, but in the end it is Jet’s choice to follow it. I tell you this because I must ask that if it does indeed come to that, you will do what I cannot.”

“I ask that you be ready to stop my master if I should fail.”

…

“A-alright. I’ll keep my eyes peeled for anything concerning.” Shining blinked uncertainly, a frown creasing his face.

“Thank you, my lord.” Merlot breathed.

“You...you should go rejoin Crux in the western tea room, I’ll have a guard escort you. I still have duties to fulfill out here before I meet with Cadance and we get ready for the ceremony.”

“Oui, of course my lord. As you wish.”

Shining stared blankly ahead as the steady sound of Merlot’s hooves striking the ground faded into obscurity on the edges of his perception. He felt a need deep in his body to move, run, to do something physical. Anything. Whatever it took to get his mind running in a better frame of thought to process the heavy words from this conversation that weighed on his spirit like a living weight, keeping his hooves rooted to the ground beneath him.

It had been a short time. Only a few years really, since his sister and her friends had dealt with Sombra for what he and many other ponies assumed to be the last time. Celestia herself had assured him that the dark sorcerer’s magic had been entirely untraceable. He, and any trace of him, had been obliterated by the power of the Crystal Heart. The very force he’d sought to wield.

The Tyrant King was long gone. But though his physical traces were nowhere to be found, the other remnants he’d left behind, trauma and emotional scarring, still had its claws sunk deep into the hearts and minds of the crystal ponies. 

Those remnants themselves had caused Shining no end of trouble when it came to initiating some semblance of law to the chaotic mire that had been the Empire after their coronation. And while he’d had no end of problems to untangle on his end, he knew it had been nothing compared to what Cadance had suffered through in her responsibilities every day.

While Cadance and he had managed to slowly gain the trust of the common pony over time, to describe their initial reception as anything but extremely wary would have been an understatement. The citizens had been so afraid of them at first that the harsh treatment and mistrust angled towards them had driven Cadance to tears at night, barely finding sleep after hours of being held in his hooves. He could handle the emotions being turned toward him by ponies, after all to their perspective, they had just escaped one of the most horrific and tortuous experiences detailed in Equestrian history. But what he had later discovered was that it had affected his wife in ways he had only recently come to fully understand.

Cadance was the alicorn of love, and while her talent was in spreading love to everypony around her, love was as much a necessity to her as it was a calling. Just as Celestia basked in the rays of her own ward every morning after raising the sun and Luna cherished her midnight walks in the Canterlot Gardens, Cadance loved to love and be loved. It was an integral part of who she was, and she thrived on the feeling as much as she did on the palace cooks’ delicacies.

His thoughts once more turned to his most recent conversation and a frown etched its way across his face. It seemed that no matter how carefully he planned the events, how painstaking he was in ensuring that the right ponies were in the right place at the right time, events were conspiring to throw a wrench into his efforts. Recent reports of break-ins and urban violence had begun to rise, ponies the Empire over were beginning to turn on one another for the smallest of slights and word of their misdeeds and misfortunes were being brought to his attention every day.The fragile peace he and Cadance had been carefully cultivating for years seemed be unravelling and fraying at the edges.

Ever since they had made the move to the lofty northern empire, his wife’s good cheer had been sparingly seen at best and nonexistent at worst. Everything he had done for the last few years had been for for her happiness. Left behind his family and friends, retired from his post as Captain of the Royal Army, even faced down Sombra’s apparition, just to buy Cadance and the Elements more time. He’d even, more recently, allowed himself to be dressed by the armorers in the most ridiculous pink ensemble he’d ever clapped eyes on.

But Cady had loved it. And everything, even pride, was happily sacrificed in the name of ensuring the continuation of that smile.

It had take a lot of time and effort, and more than his fair share of embarrassment, but now he could wake up in the morning, greeted by the single sight more radiant than the brightest dawn Celestia could conjure. His wife’s smile. And come Tyrant, Tartarus, or anything otherwise, he would never for the rest of his days spend another night holding his wife while she cried herself unconscious.

Not if he had a damned thing to say about it.



> Heart of the Matter
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Ladies and gentlecolts!”

The magically amplified proclamation echoed out through the crowd like ripples in a still pond, mouths fell still and heads turned to regard the sound in a wave of motion. Cadance looked down on her subjects from her vantage point of a raised podium set before the arches of the palace and couldn’t help the small bubble of anticipation that always gave her a jittery energy when she faced such large crowds.

The Commons was an area well designed for its purpose. Landscapers, masons and gardeners had spared no effort to make the center of their city a sight of splendor even amongst its more radiant surroundings. And the open air gardens were currently packed to the gills. Crystalline bodies shifted and stirred across the expanse like an enormous carpet of bedazzling jewelry. Glimmering ponies and even the occasional gryphon perched in trees like multicolored fruits while unicorns and earth ponies sat on woven cloths laid out over the waving grasses. The blankets’ metallic embroidery reflecting light from the fading sun onto their owners.

As the last remnants of her amplified voice faded into the distance, the crowds fell quiet but to Cadance, they were far from silent. She could ‘hear’ the sound of their emotions like the roar of a vast ocean stretched out before her. The spikes of excitement and joy rushed from all angles against her like breakers on the shore as passions rose high and low. Tempers were lost and tears were shed...and other more embarrassing things.

Cadance tried not to pay too much attention to those.

But for the most part her subjects were happy, glowing with joy and excitement that radiated a soothing warmth onto her spirit. Cadance was in her element as she basked in the glow of admiration and love that she could almost physically feel. Drawing a deep breath, she could feel the ecstatic crackle of magic housed in her lungs, so similar to the giddy, foal-like exultation that bubbled in her chest.

“I can’t thank you enough for attending, my lovely ponies. As you know, it’s been a trying time these past few weeks, but thanks to the valiant efforts of the Festivities Guild, the Millennial Fair has been an outstanding success!”

Cadance gestured broadly to the ponies seated along a table below her podium, many of whom seemed bashful as the crowd’s cheers swept up to their seats. She gave each of them a warm smile, watching with pride as the sat a little straighter in their seats. They’d been under quite a lot of pressure to ensure a fantastic celebration after two thousand years of waiting. The bar had been set high for the overworked guild.

“And let us not forget to thank our guard,” Cadance continued. “Without whom, keeping our streets safe for our foals to celebrate this wonderful event would have been impossible.”

Many of the present armored ponies, made easily identifiable in the crowd thanks to their brightly colored sashes, saluted her vigorously from their widely arrayed positions in the throng, chests puffed out nobly as they stoically bore their praise.

“Maker knows we don’t pay them enough to wear those ridiculous antiques anyway.” Brass admitted wryly at her side.

“Oh shush you.” Cadance let slip through the side of her smile, waving brightly to a group of ponies that had been giving her slightly perplexed glances.

Brass scoffed in mock outrage. “Yes, Shining! Please!” Brass scolded, playfully swatting the armored soldier with his tail. “Do be quiet, you’re ruining the moment.”

“Huh?” The metal pony echoed, his closed visor rattling a confused counterpoint. “I didn’t say anything.”

Cadance skillfully suppressed a case of the giggles as she returned her attention to the many faces watching their princess expectantly.

“But unfortunately, my lovely ponies, all good things must come to an end.” Cadance closed her eyes, waiting patiently as she felt the thick tapestry of joyous emotion fray slightly in the face of disappointment.

“Be that as it may, that doesn’t mean we’ll sit idly by and let this celebration end without a fight!”

As faces brightened again, the bright, hopeful glance of curiosity filling their eyes, Cadance decided it was time to let the ball drop.

“Though Celestia sets the sun and night lies impatient on the horizon, the show is far from over. The Festivities Committee has brought to my attention quite the spectacle they’ve prepared for the occasion.”

Excited murmuring stole through the crowds, citizens clumping together in groups sharing hurried, wondering whispers.

“And that’s not all.” Cadance assured, unable to stop a smug grin. “Princess Luna has told me how overjoyed she is to hear that so many ponies will be celebrating tonight, and promised her own little contribution to the event.”

A bright flash of light and the astonished gasps from not only the masses before her, but from her own circle, Shining included, advanced her grin into a full-blown smirk of satisfaction. Cracking an eye open just enough to watch the last of the perfectly timed shooting star’s trail fade as it streaked across the deepening twilight, Cadance could only appreciate how great it was to have two immortal aunts with lifetimes of experience in showmareship. 

“But as excited as I am sure you all are, these thing are not the reason I’ve called you here tonight.”

“As you know,” she began solemnly, the crackle of magic fading from her voice. “It has been two years since the return of the Crystal Empire. Two years to acclimate to a new time, new cultures and new ways of life. Two years to rebuild, to try and reclaim a fraction of what you once had.

“Two years to forget.

“Nor is time the only thing that has cost us, either. The strange haze of memory so prevalent among crystal ponies has caused much of what we once knew to be lost. Traditions and practices that defined the heritage of our empire has fallen to the wayside, confusion and forgetfulness wreaking havoc. It has also not helped matters that many of our citizens refused to make attempts to reclaim that lost knowledge, preferring the events of the past to remain where they lie, long buried."

Cadance closely observed the effect of her words, the ponies’ reactions to her softened claims and accusations. Many nodded gravely, faces downcast and full of sorrow while others muttered angrily, affronted. Most, however, hung their heads ashamedly, unable to meet her gaze as her eyes roamed over them. 

Cadance found it curious how alike a pony’s ears were to the flight signals she had seen in use in Cloudsdale all those years ago. The general mood of a gathering of ponykind could be easily determined merely by observing the movement of the ears. They were like switches, flicking on or off and carrying joy or sorrow with either state.

“Today, I propose that we put a stop to this downward trend for good. Since the founding of our nation, the Millennial Fair has been a time of remembrance. A time when ponies across the Empire gather together in the heart of our nation to recall the oaths and pledges that bound them together through a time of great trial.

“Love, Unity, Loyalty; these are our strengths. They are the ties that bind, and the foundation of our lives. These virtues, among others, have been extolled by the Bearers themselves time and again, and it has been proven twice that not even the Tyrant could stand before them!”

“Old traditions may have been lost, but new ones can always rise to take their place, and I suggest we begin a new one here and now.”

As the final word left her lips, a flick of her ears registered the sound of ponies in synchronised movement. The eyes of the ponies turned as one to regard the stately procession of ponies down the long stairway from the palace doors. Trotting slowly and measuredly, the formally dressed ponies parted around the podium Cadance stood upon, arraying themselves before her and the crowd in a loose hemisphere. As one, they kneeled respectfully which Cadance returned with a regal nod.

Rising slowly to their hooves, they spun about, facing the crowd with stoic demeanor, heads held high and chests thrown out.

“My lovely ponies,” Cadance called, smiling broadly at the rising excitement apparent in widened eyes and slackened jaws. Nobility in Canterlot shared very little in common with those hailing from the Empire. In Equestria the word noble was most commonly seen as only a title. Very few ponies actually had responsibilities weighing upon the words. Imperial nobility was another thing entirely. Each presided over a large section of the empire’s lands and officiated nearly every facet of their burden. Seeing them outside of their homes was a rarity; outside of their regions was madness.

“may I present to you, your Lords and Ladies!” Cadance cheered.








<> Some hours earlier…<>


“Would you stop talking poking around in my head? I’m not some sort of toy for you to fiddle with, damnit.” He whispered frustrated, wincing at the occasional pangs that echoed through his ringing skull like hammer strikes.

Crux stalked his way down the palace halls, armed guards leading the way further down the winding arches and glittering decor. Crux fancied himself more of a darker nature, more comfortable in oaken walls and padded pleather than in pristine stained glass and ambient crystal sconces. Needless to say, the blinding view wasn’t helping his headache.

“We must admit,” Blackheart rumbled, grating sounds of amusement like the sharpening of blades echoing through Crux’s mind like a distant chime. “We lost any true purpose for this probing some time ago. Your reactions, however, are most amusing, Jet.”

“You’re giving me a splitting headache!” Crux spat, an eye clenching as a throb pulsed through his temple.

“Is all well, Lord Crux?” One of his escorts asked, glancing back over his shoulder in concern. “You seem uncomfortable. Would you rather we escorted you to the infirm—”

“No, don’t bother. I’m fine.” Crux growled, waving a hoof dismissively. “Just a headache, it’ll pass.

“If your lordship is certain.” The guard, looking not at all certain, turned back to his path, taking turns at seemingly random intervals to Crux’s distracted mind.

“I’m serious, Blackheart! We’re about to join one of the most anticipated ceremonies in living memory, where every pony with an ounce of prestige will be in attendance.” Crux’s voice called into the blackness of his mind. “Thousands of ponies will be closely observing us and we can’t afford to let anyone catch onto you, least of all Cadance. If she knew you existed—”

“What concern is that of ours? The wrath of some insignificant alicorn barely into her magic is inconsequential to one such as Us.” Blackheart laughed derisively, regarding her image as the thought of Cadance brought forth her memory in Crux’s mind. 

“She might not be able to stop you alone, but she has both diarchs at call from a moment’s notice.” Crux countered. “Not to mention physical possession of the Crystal Heart! If she get’s even a whiff of you, the Heart gets locked away along with any chance I have of dragging Cruciger out of his hole.”

“We still do not understand why you show such concern over these little ponies.” The memories of the girls lit the darkened confines of Crux’s head like a ray of sunlight. Blackheart rumbled disapprovingly as the corner of Crux’s mouth upturned slightly in remembrance of a quiet moment shared with Olive in the library. “Such compassion does not fit one of your heritage, Jet.”

“To Tartarus with my heritage. My parents didn’t need it and neither do I. The only one who cared for that sort of thing was Sombra and look where he ended up. Eradicated and dispersed to the winds by the Crystal Heart.”

“Your uncle was of the true line, strong and proud, but you are right. He was not capable of being our vessel. Once we were sealed away, the lack of our presence drove him to madness. Even buried deep in our Cradle, We could feel the destruction he wrought.” Blackheart chuckled darkly.

Crux frowned in distaste as the eldritch spirit’s laughter seemed to echo all around him, bouncing from walls and around corners.

“So what in Equestria makes you think I’ll let you do the same to me? You’re nothing more than an annoying voice in my head, and as far as I’m concerned, you’re going to stay that way. At least until I find a way to get rid of you.”

A strange cornucopia of emotions and sensations poured from his connection to Blackheart. In his mind’s eye he could see a vast, crystalline chamber steeped in darkness. A few, rare protrusions threw light into the inky void, their rays reflecting off of the surrounding surfaces and giving the room the look of a hazy memory, like a dream. Crux hung suspended in the air, like a bobber floating on the tides as his eyes stared off at some distant point in the abyss.

Somehow, Crux knew he was staring at himself through great distance.

“There is no getting rid of us, Jet. There is no choice in a matter such as this, and there is no escape from our sight. Uncountable numbers of your ancestors have stood before us. We watched them be born through their mothers’ eyes, watched them grow, and watched them die. And every one of them heard our voice. They were the vessels through which we deigned to extend our power, and they had no way of escaping that fate.

“Just as you do not.” Blackheart admonished, traces of amusement and...perhaps pity, of a sort, winding through his tones.

“It’ll be a cold day in Tartarus before I let you turn me into some sort of puppet.” Crux growled.

Blackheart’s response was not forthcoming. Crux stared blankly ahead, hooves droning out the seconds as they struck the polished floor, awaiting some snide comment or grim threat, but there was only silence.

“My lord?” A voice called hesitantly, cutting through Crux’s preoccupation like a hot knife as he blinked rapidly to buy himself time to take in his surroundings. The two guards had stopped in front of a large, ornately etched door which seemed to be made out of some sort of darkened, smoky glass. They were both eyeing Crux with concern as the stallion shook his head to rid himself of his distraction. “We’ve arrived, sir.”

“I see, that was quick. Thank you for your time, gentlecolts. You may return to your posts now.”

“As you wish, sir.” They bowed, throwing the occasional glance backward over their shoulders as they trotted away. Crux ignored their concern, he had more important things on his mind as he regarded the majestic entryway. Drawing a quick, deep breath, Crux horn lit with a spark of will and radiated a wave of force that pushed the door inward. Squinting from a sudden influx of light reflecting out of the room, he stepped into the room, barely able to make out the shapes of furniture through lids drawn tight over sensitive pupils.

The sudden, crushing bear hug caught him entirely by surprise.

“Jet, my boy! So good to see you! How’ve you been, son?”

“Hng! G-godric?” Crux wheezed.

“Godric?!” Lord Spinel roared, increasing the force of his death grip on Crux’s spine. “You should know better than to call your uncle by his first name, Jet!”

“Grrk-aah! Sorry...Uncle!”

“Careful Gaudy, we don’t have many relatives so try not to break this one.” The soft voice managed to stir Crux from his agony, and he cracked open his clenched lids enough to behold a pink form through tear-filled eyes.

“How have you been, Jetty?” Rose asked, smiling warmly at the tortured stallion.

“Hnn…ack!”

“Oh, that’s wonderful!” Rose gushed, clapping her hooves together in delight.

“You lost weight, colt? You feel a little thin.” Godric grunted, hefting Crux’s weight a few times in his vice-like hooves. “Been eating enough?”

Crux’s only response was to allow a faint shade of blue to slip through his dark coat.

“Do you think I should let him down, dear?” Godric asked, amusement in his voice.

“Mmm,” Rose hummed thoughtfully, tapping her chin with a delicate hoof.”Nah.” She quipped, a bubbly smile on her lips. “He still hasn’t brought my nieces over to visit their aunty, even though he promised. He’s young enough to deal with a little punishment.”

Godric’s chuckle of amusement was cut short as Crux went rigid in his hooves, a look of silent pain not from any form of physical discomfort apparent in his blank gaze.

“Jet?” Godric asked, his grip easing on the younger pony as concern made itself evident in the creases of his face.

“Je m’excuse tres humblement, Monsieur et Madame Spinel.”

The two older ponies looked up in surprise as the large door slipped shut under a soft purple aura. The newcomer smiled sadly, gesturing to the slack and unresponsive Crux.

“Such a topic is perhaps best related over tea, non?”







“So you’re little premonition came true. I’m sorry to hear that Jet.” Godric said soberly. Taking quiet sips from his cup as he held Rose close to his side. The puffy-eyed mare had broken into tears after hearing of what had befallen the girls after his departure, apologizing profusely for her jibe. Though Crux had assured her of his acceptance, she still remained downcast, red-rimmed eyes refusing to meet his gaze.
‘
“Who would do such a thing? Kidnap two defenseless little fillies.” Rose asked, voice quavering. Godric shushed her softly, squeezing her close as tears threatened to spill again.

“I have my suspicions.” Crux said, brow wrinkling in response to the flare of ire always present when thoughts of his quarry surfaced.

“Think it might have something to do with that letter I sent you, Jet?” Godric asked, morbid curiosity in his voice.

“I do, uncle. I arrived home after leaving you to find my house completely ransacked. My office had been torn to pieces, and my private chest had been opened. They took my mother’s old heirloom and, according to the officers on scene, the girls”. 

“Stabbed Merlot too, while they were at it.” Crux mumbled, eyeing the offending butler disapprovingly.

“What?!” The couple exclaimed, wide eyes tearing to Merlot who rolled his eyes tolerantly.

“Twas but a scratch, I assure you.”

“Sounds like you’re still as much of a workhorse as you’ve always been, Prenchy. It’s good to see you’re still alive and kicking, but I hope you don’t mind if I wish it were under better circumstances.” Godric grunted.

“Likewise, sir.”

“What have you been doing to find them?” Rose asked, glancing at Merlot worriedly.

“Unfortunately, Madame Rose, the detectives have brought forth few traces of our mystery burglar. They suspect magical interference was involved. They cautioned us to be alert for such a thing, but we have not received any sort of ransom note.”

“So they wanted the girls to begin with.” Godric stated.

“Either that or they figured they could use them as leverage once they had them.” Crux growled affirmatively. “Captain Ash did his best but he wasn’t able to tell me much. You sent me a letter telling me to watch for this Cruciger fellow. I asked Ash to bring me reports of anypony entering Slateridge on a High Peaks visa or Radiant Hills, but the only one they found was a merchant carriage delivering trade documents the guilds requested some weeks ago. A unicorn mare and her driver, and Merlot tells me his assailant was male.”

“So no proof then?”

“None physical, no.” Crux said, mouth curled as though tasting something sour.

“But it sounds like you have your suspicions.” Rose said, not so much asking despite the curious tone of her voice.

Crux nodded, taking a sip from a teacup Merlot proffered. “I do. There was no physical evidence enough to arrest the merchant, aside from her being from Radiant Hills, but oddly enough Slateridge has had a large influx of business partners from that region lately. Torc’s region and mine were never ones for trade, both of us shipping different materials. Perhaps merely to cover for the one merchant who wasn’t actually a merchant.”

“That’s a pretty large stretch, Jet.” Godric frowned, rubbing his hoof along Rose’s barrel as he thought. “No way you could go to the Princess with something like that.”

“I know.” Crux said bitterly.

“And as much as I know the young master wishes to, we cannot simply allow him to storm up to Cruciger and demand his confession at hornpoint.” Merlot drawled drily, a brow snaking up in challenge to the smoldering glare directed his way.

“He’s right, Jet.” Godric chided, matching Crux’s stare until the young lord’s eyes broke the clash to stare instead at the floor. “It’s true I sent you a letter to be wary of Cruciger, but that isn’t nearly enough evidence. Not for the Princess, and not for you either.”

“Then what else am I to do, Uncle?” Crux demanded. “I have no other route to follow other than this suspicion. The girls are lost to me, and I have no idea where else I might find something to lead to their whereabouts! It has been weeks and still I have received no word about them. 

“Their safety was entrusted to me, and I don’t even know if they’re still alive!” He screamed in impotent rage.

Crux grunted as a pink body tackled him, grasping his neck firmly and squeezing him till he felt his body might give out.

“It’s alright, Jetty. We’ll find them. You don’t have to do this alone, you have family and friends here to help.” Rose cooed, brushing his mane soothingly as she held him. 

“You’ve been working so hard ever since Aurol and Sable left. It isn’t easy to manage a holding as large as Slateridge, even for a pair like Gaudy and I, and you’ve been doing it all by yourself.” Rose blinked tears from her eyes as she stared forward at the wall, holding the shaking pony in her hooves against her. “And then to have single parenthood thrown on your pile must have pushed you to the limits.”

“But you’ve got to get this through that thick skull of yours, mister.” She softly scolded, ignoring the hot droplets she could feel soaking into her dress. “Your mother and I were best friends, and you’re like the son Gaudy and I were never able to have. You’re never alone, and you never will be. We’re always there for family, Jetty.”

A silence filled the room, though the heavy blanket was far from oppressive. Merlot and Godric stood outside the small pile of ponies, smiling fondly as they watched the tension gathered in Crux’s shaking frame bleed out of him slowly like water down a drain.

Rose patted Crux softly as he inhaled shakily, drawing himself away from her embrace.

“Feel better, Jet?” She asked softly.

“A lit—. Yes, Aunty. Thank you.” Crux said, managing a small smile as he roughly wiped his eyes.

“Madame Rose, it seems you are still possessed of that beautiful calming spirit, non?” Merlot said, smiling appreciatively as he helped her back onto her feet and into her recently vacated seat.

“Oh absolutely.” Godric quipped, grinning. “She likes to hold me and let me feel her ‘calming spirit’ all the time.”

“Gaudy!” Rose cried, a heavy red blush filling her cheeks. She pushed the laughing pony away roughly with a huff as he tried to give her an apologetic smooch.

Despite his attempts to regain a more sober frame of mind, Crux couldn’t help but feel his spirits lift as he watched his aunt and uncle carry on. Crux caught Merlot’s amused gaze and smirked alongside the purple butler as they allowed the couple their moment.

“Oh my, what did we miss?”

The ponies jumped, startled by the new voice that cut through the merriment with startling abruptness.

“I certainly hope we didn’t interrupt anything?” Cruciger asked, a small smirk on his muzzle.







“Cruciger, Torc,” Godric acknowledged cautiously, eyes darting momentarily to his nephew. “This is a surprise. I didn’t think we would be seeing either of you until the ceremony.”

“Likewise, Lord Godric.” Cruciger said, settling into his chair with a pleased grin. “Unfortunately, due to some unforeseen problems packing for the trip, our arrival was somewhat delayed.”

Torc nodded as she received a cup of tea poured for her by her hoofmaiden, a dark furred mare the color of chocolate with bouncing curls Torc had introduced as Vanilla. “Princess Cadance made us aware that our previous vacancies in other rooms had been filled by the tide of early arrivals. Fortunately, there was room available here.”

“I see.” Godric grunted, inhaling the final remnant of an entirely decimated cake tray. He nodded his thank as his cup of tea was refilled. “That was awfully coincidental.”

“Indeed!” Cruciger smiled broadly. “I have been looking forward to speaking with all of you for some time. Especially you, Lord Crux.” 

“I find it such a pity that we’ve seen each other several times in this or that political gathering, but have never actually found the time to get to know one another. I am Lord Cruciger, overseer of the High Peaks.” The jovial unicorn extended his hoof amiably, his eyes creasing with the width of his smile.

Crux stared down at the proffered hoof, the extended limb a mere movement from his own. As the silence stretched on and he had still taken no action, he began to notice slight movements out of the corner’s of his vision. Merlot and Godric had taken to watching the two of them with great caution. The orange lord sitting nearly upon the edge of his seat, ready to spring between the exchange at a moment’s notice. 

“Is there a problem, Lord Crux?” Cruciger asked, quiet interest in his voice.

Slowly, deliberately, Crux’s head craned upward at the same time his hoof untucked itself from against his chest, reaching out and grasping Cruciger’s hoof firmly. Intense emerald crossed with dancing blue eyes as their gazes met, the both of them tightening their grips on the other.

“Not at all, Lord Cruciger. A pleasure to finally make your acquaintance.”

“We remember this one.”

The slight flick of his ears was the only outward sign that Crux’s attention had suddenly turned inward to where the voice had echoed out of the deep dark. He could feel the full return of Blackheart’s presence as the familiar, yet unwanted sensation of an alien mind touch his own, melding their thoughts together until he could feel Blackheart’s words and emotions as easily as Blackheart could likewise.

“You remember him? What do you mean? He doesn’t look ancient beyond reckoning.”

“The flesh standing before us is new, true. But the blood that ebbs and flows through his veins is descended from a line we knew well.”
 
“His line?” Crux queried, confusion coloring his tone.

“Indeed. Much like his forefathers, this one.”

As suddenly as he’d intruded, Blackheart retreated from the confines of Crux’s skull. He couldn’t fully suppress the shiver that raced through his muscles as the sensation, like multitudes of icy needles, crawled over his skin. Though the spirit’s presence was gone, he could still feel its remnants coiled about the semi-precious lump of crystal pocketed in his vest.

“Lord Crux.”

“Mm?” Crux grunted, eyeing Cruciger questioningly as the world around him faded back into definition.

“I admit, I too have been looking forward to this meeting for quite some time. Be that as it may, would you perhaps grant me the privilege of keeping my hoof? Much as I would gladly gift you such a trinket, I find myself rather attached to it.” The lord gave a soft grunt of pain through teeth clenched in a smile, a small light of amusement glimmering in the depths of his gaze.

“What are you talking about?”

“His hoof, you oaf,” Torc snapped. “You’re crushing his hoof. Let go of him.”

Crux glanced down in distant surprise as he found he was indeed still gripping Cruciger’s forelimb in a hoofshake. What sparse skin made itself visible between the blonde strands of his coat had turned a ruddy shade of red, patches of purple began to show themselves across his cannon.

“Ah, my apologies.” Crux eased his pressure, allowing Cruciger’s hoof to slip free.

“Not at all! No harm done,” Cruciger assured, his smile settling into an amused grin as he rotated the appendage absently.

“I suppose it was too much for me to hope that you could show a little restraint, today of all days.” Torc groused, eyeing Crux sourly.

Crux lips parted in a toothy smile as the two ponies stared at one another. “I could say much the same!”

“Jet!” Rose scolded.

“We will be attending a ceremony meant to display unity and brotherhood, after all.” Godric stressed, trying to regain his previous level of comfort in his seat. “The least we could do for those attending is try to look like we aren’t raring to tear each other’s throats out.”

“A wise suggestion,” Cruciger praised, eyeing Torc hintingly.

The two nobles glared at each other silently, fuming in the confines of their own thoughts as they both nodded slowly in agreement. 

“After all, ponies of responsibility such as ourselves have a duty to uphold a higher standard for all of those under our protection.” Cruciger admonished, patting the air soothingly toward the two opponents. A quirk stretched one corner of his mouth as he glanced at Crux. “Think of the children, for instance.”

*Crack, Crunch!*

A stunned pause was observed as the steady drip of tea added to the steadily spreading puddle staining the carpet below. Chips of old china flaked off of the ruined teacup held mercilessly in the iron grip of green magic, the force causing the gathered chips to occasionally shift. The cup’s unfortunate saucer had suffered a similar fate. A single great crack had sundered the innocent piece of tableware into halves. The dripping continued unnoticed by the perpetrator, small, pitiable splashes into the sodden rug playing metronome as the others stared at the scene.

“You ignorant brute!” Torc shrieked, shrill voice cracking the silence as violently as the teacup.”You just obliterated a Pre-passing antique! An ancient piece of history that you so callously crushed—”

“Be silent.”

Calmly though it was spoken, the wave of sound struck the ponies with an almost physical force. Rough and gravelly with barely suppressed emotion, Crux’s gaze burned with an inequine fury as he bored holes into Torc’s own. The mare had been left insensate in her seat, the muscles of her jaw seized, bunched and knotted, keeping her jaw firmly sealed. Her eyes were wide pools of white, pupils like pinpricks in the wake of the sheer mind-numbing force of Crux’s proclamation.

Crux let the ruined china slip from his magical grasp unheeded, the assortment of crushed shards tinkling mournfully as they rained down onto the floor. He tucked his legs tightly against his body to stay the insipid shivering.

A painfully cold spike had wedged itself deep in his chest and an unsettling icy emptiness had begun spreading its ruthless influence throughout every inch of his body. His mind had gone into temporary shock at the sudden transition. A deep burning hatred sprung into his mind uncontrolled as he had felt the hidden barb in Cruciger’s words lash at his wounded pride, but it had vanished just as quickly as he’d felt his heart lurch sickeningly in time with the bauble ensconced in his pocket.

Up until now, it had merely been a voice, a passive observer to his thoughts and actions. But now, he was painfully aware of how insidious it truly was, how deeply it had spread its reach. Now he could feel through what little sensation remained in chilled flesh, the full weight of its presence, settled across his back like a blanket of permafrost. And though his lips had gone numb, he knew it was not under his own volition that they had sprung to movement.

“We grow tired of listening to your harping, mare. We do not recall asking for your opinion, nor your presence. You are an irritation, clinging to Cruciger’s coat-tails like a determined fly. For some reason we cannot fathom, he tolerates you so we cannot simply have you gone. For now, we suggest you keep guard over your wagging tongue if you wish to keep it.” Blackheart-Crux growled menacingly.

 “Young master…” Merlot whispered fearfully, his face gone pale.

“Jet!” Godric exclaimed, throwing off the grip of unnatural stillness that had taken hold of the room. “What’s gotten into you, son?”

“What indeed?” Cruciger whispered quietly, an excited smile in his voice as he eyed Crux. The lord’s horn gave a flash, a harsh golden light radiating from its spirals that made Crux’s eyes snap shut in pain, a slight hiss escaping his clenched teeth.

As the sting slowly faded, and the bright spots vanished from the inside of his eyelids, Crux’s sight returned to behold a world awash in metallic sheen. A watery, mirage-like quality had taken hold of everything in his vicinity. Crux drew breath, but did not feel air pass his lips. He could see the hands of a nearby clock, and droplets of spilled tea fallen from the edge of the table, yet they showed no action. Even Merlot and the others stood suspended in the gold-tinted magic, like flies in amber. Crux felt his eyes widen in surprise, this time under his own will, as he stared at the others. Godric in particular had jumped halfway out of his chair, mouth agape and frozen mid-sentence as he hung unsupported inches off of the floor.

“Truly, I never expected providence to deliver so golden an opportunity.”

“What did you do to them, Cruciger?” Crux snarled, too angry to pay much notice to the regained ability to govern his own voice. “If you’ve hurt them I swear to the Maker it won’t end well for you.”

“Oh nothing so serious, Crux. Just a little trick I picked up from my father and he from his. They’re perfectly safe and unharmed, I assure you.”

“Temporal Dominion. It has been quite some time since last we saw a practitioner of time-altering magic. Old traditions we had believed been deemed a forbidden practice. It seems the oldest lines have lost none of their potency over the generations.” Blackheart’s voice echoed, much clearer than it had previously been. Crux did not wish to dwell on those implications.

“Time magic?” Crux grunted absently, perplexed.

“Indeed,” Cruciger admitted, a pleased smirk on his face. “It seems you’re not entirely as ignorant of the old ways as I’d originally thought.” He paused briefly, looking askance at Crux. Or was it through him?

“Or perhaps you draw from a font of knowledge not entirely your own.” Cruciger flashed a satisfied smirk as Crux jaw fell slightly slack.

“Wha—”

A flood of incomprehensible words poured from Cruciger’s lips, so ancient they predated the Founders sending waves of unease and a profound sense of wrongness cascading through his nerves. How Crux knew that alone, he didn’t know, but even though the meaning of the words were lost on him, the feeling they gave him told him he wouldn’t like their intent even if he could understand them.

As the last of the words dripped from Cruciger’s lips, heavy as oil, Crux felt the hairs on his nape stand on end and gooseflesh spring out across his skin as the temperature of the room plummeted alarmingly.

Crux watched in horrid fascination as a writhing, twisting black miasma poured from his vest pocket and coalesced into a seething cloud in the space between the two of them. 

“And he speaks in the Old Tongue,” Blackheart rumbled, his voice slithering through the air with an odd reverberating quality it did not possess in Crux’s thoughts. “We are impressed, foal. A pity you were so pretentious as to draw forth our presence without our permission. We have sentenced souls to eternal imprisonment in crystal for such slights.”

“Well as enjoyable as that sounds Old One, I’m afraid I must decline. There are still things I have left to do here.” Cruciger smiled grimly into the lurid, red points of light that stood as eyes in the otherwise featureless mass.

“Your greed will be your undoing, foal.”

“Whatever it is you’re planning, Cruciger, don’t think I’ll sit idly by and just let it happen.” Crux glared at the condescendingly smirking stallion. There was an infuriatingly smug glint visible in his blue eyes.

“Oh, you will Crux, whether you like it or not. Otherwise I may have to let that darling green foal in my care know that she will no longer be staying under my protection.”

“You touch one hair on the girls' heads and I will peel your hide like a grape, Cruciger.” Crux seethed.

“The brutality, Crux!” The lord cried, pressing a hoof to his brow. “There is no need for violence." 

"From your tone I assume you've misplaced more than the one bundle of joy. I assure you that I don't play host to any more of your unfortunate children, but dear little Olive is safe and sound. She will come to no harm as long as you play along like a good little colt.”

Cruciger ignored Crux’s parting glare as he stared deeply into the roiling cloud. “And I expect much the same attitude from you, Old One.”

“Such conceit! You think yourself in a position to make such demands of us? Do not think that the insignificance of one foal’s life will be enough to stay our wrath should you continue to cross us, foal.”

“I believe it will be, Old One. You see, as powerful and cunning as you may be, even you must abide by the ancient laws. your vessel must be truly willing to accept you in order to fully extend your influence, and you can do little else without him from inside your hidden seat.”

“Hobbling the puppet will serve most adequately, in the end.”

“Even the fraction of our gift he now possesses will be more than enough to squash your pathetic strength, insect.” Blackheart spat.

“Perhaps,” Cruciger mused.”But I will be correcting that oversight soon enough.”

An odd, echoing rumble filled the room, prickling Crux’s skin and forcing his ears to turn away as the air vibrated with its intensity. He realized with a start that the sound was emanating from Blackheart’s physical form. The eldritch being was growling.

“You would dare?” Blackheart hissed, shock and fury evident even in his otherworldy tone. “It is ours, lordling. Know your place!”

“It was my understanding that ambition was an admirable quality in one of the old blood back in your era.”

“I will destroy you, foal!”

Crux’s ears plastered themselves to his skull as Cruciger let slip more words from the hauntingly familiar language. Even Cruciger’s smug smirk shook slightly from the force of the unearthly howl of rage as Blackheart’s inky form was drawn back into the pocket of Crux’s vest from which it first poured.

“Wonderful. Absolutely awe-inspiring!”

Crux glared at the ecstatic unicorn, trying not to wince as he felt the bauble sear him through the thin barrier of his clothing. He could feel Blackheart’s incandescent fury raging in the back of his mind, though it had once more faded into little more than a distant echo.

“He is everything I imagined him to be and more!” Cruciger cooed, his voice filled with equal measures of awe and a strange hunger.

“What exactly did you hope to gain from that, Cruciger? Aside from the displeasure of an unknowably ancient and immeasurably wrathful eldritch spirit of pure hatred, I mean.” Crux snapped, eyeing the wide grin splitting Cruciger’s face with open derision.

“Why I was simply outlining the rules of engagement, Crux! There are the necessary steps to take and guidelines to follow in this sort of thing, and my honor as the scion of house Crucius demanded I take proper action.”

Crux shook his head, brow furrowed in confusion.” What stupidity are you spilling now? Your house name isn’t—”

“Not that foolish nonsense those ignorant outsiders decided to slap over my family’s true title!” Cruciger snapped, looking as though he had tasted something foul. “Crucius is my true house, back when my ancestors were true crystal ponies, before the Cradle was sealed and lost. Before our power dwindled so far that we were unable to sweep aside the foreign wench with illusions of grandeur that came and forced the old houses into this ridiculous empire!”

Cruciger and Crux stared at each other, the blonde unicorn breathing heavily in an attempt to regain his composure. His eyes glittered with a peculiar light as they swept over Crux’s form, as if seeing him as something different.

“Before my house was split in two to control the balance of power in the budding farce of a nation. Separated and sent to the farthest sides of the Empire and left to stagnate in the hopes that time and distance would prevent us from regaining our true glory.”

Crux found himself unable to tear his gaze away from the stallion whose eyes shimmered with a manic energy that seemed to spill from them with enough force to singe his coat as they stared unblinkingly into his own. All the while Crux slowly shook his head in disbelief as the true intent behind the possessed pony’s words made themselves known to him.

“But at long last! At long last, the true Crystal Empire shall be reborn! At long last, we two shall stand side by side, as we were meant.”

“I greet you, Jet Crucius, son of Sable Crucius, Keeper of Keys and Cradle’s Voice, blood of my blood. I am Cruciger Crucius, Guardian of the Gates and Cradle’s Sword, son of Sombra Crucius.”

“We are well-met, cousin.”








<> In the present…<>


Shining watched his wife glow in the adoration of the crowd.

Literally glow.

Cadance’s pink fur shimmered in the light of the Crystal Heart, a soothing radiance that lifted the spirit just to look at. She’d been much the same on their wedding night, recalled. But standing just behind her, watching the sincere joy on his wife’s face and bathing in the pristine aura of peace and calm radiating from the Heart, he couldn’t help but feel like all his hard work was finally starting to pay off.

So why did he feel so nervous every time he glanced down at the row of nobles arrayed below them?

Every ounce of noble blood in the Empire had shown up for the event, and the head of every house was present. Lord Jasper of the Dazzling Expanse, the largest natural deposit of gemstones in Equestria, and the Empire’s leading exporter of jewels. Dressed in a dull, grey suit and a cloak the color of freshly spilled blood, he presented quite the intimidating figure. If it weren’t for his portly disposition.

Lord Godric of House Spinel and his wife Rose Quartz, heads of the Golden Reach, largest money exchange in the Empire and the seat of nearly all its banking. Dressed in complementing shades of red, the two older ponies smiled warmly as they leaned on each other.

Lady Torc of the Radiant Hills, dressed in an austere robe of white with gold and amber accents to match the enchanted forests she presided over.

Lady Beryl of the Emerald Coast, the only shipping region in the nation, and the source of nearly all of its international trade. A shy, reserved mare whose simple dress of green silk reflected her personality.

Lord Andalus and Lady Virida, of House Viridian. Twins and co-heads of the Diamond Falls and the only two of the nobility to be pegasi. Silent or flippant to any save each other, the two green ponies were stately dressed in black.

Lord Onyx of the Glittering Deeps, the ancient, wizened pony spoke rarely, if at all, preferring to spend his twilight years fishing in the myriad lochs for which his region was named. The silver-coated pony was certainly making the effort to stand out from his peers. Dressed in a glaringly white tuxedo, the wrinkly old stallion gave little wheezing chuckles everytime he noticed somepony having to squint to look at him.

And lastly, Lords Cruciger of the High Peaks and Crux of Slate Ridge. Standing side by side, the two ponies could not have looked more each other’s opposite if they’d been painted separate hues. Cruciger, blonde furred and dressed in a bright suit of yellow and baby blue, looked for all the world like a foal in a candy shop. The grin he sported as he sipped from a glass of wine, the casks for the event shipped directly from the High Peaks’ esteemed vineyards, looked wide enough to crack boulders.

And it would need to be. Lord Crux, overseer of Slate Ridge, the Empire’s foremost source for mining and metallurgy, dressed in black with a dark green vest, looked as dour as the crags themselves.

And it was to Crux that Shining’s gaze most often strayed. As the time drew closer and the magical glow of the Crystal Heart grew in intensity, the words of Merlot came more and more often to the forefront of his mind.

If Crux should stray from the path, he would need to act. But what path was the right one? As the Crystal Heart gave a vibrant pulse of light mirrored by Cadance’s flashing horn and the crowd grew quiet, Shining fretted behind his metal visor.

What was a simple soldier to do in a situation like this? It sure hadn’t been detailed in basic.

“My lovely little ponies,” Cadance proclaimed.” Thank you for your patience and good cheer as we prepared for this most ancient reenactment. For tonight, just as it was done all those ages ago, the lords and ladies of the Empire have gathered here to reaffirm their ties of friendship and unity.”

Cadance flared her wings, the feather tips lightly grasping the floating relic and drawing it gently down to rest before her.

“For just as my ancestors asked for the allegiance of their own, so too do I ask much the same.” Looking down at the row of nobles, she beamed a radiant smile down upon them as a strange change seemed to settle over her being.

“Those of thee who art willing to give of thyselves, to love and honor thy neighbors, and give thy true and honorable allegiance to the Crystal Empire, step forth. May thee pledge thyself to the Crystal Heart, and speak no falsehood.”

Awed exclamations swept the crowd as Cadance finished her speech. The crown princess of the Crystal Empire had risen above her podium, her eyes burned with a bright white light as she and the Crystal Heart hung suspended. The combined radiance of both she and the Heart lent her an angelic appearance.

Torc was the first pony to approach, kneeling reverently as Cadance descended, extending the Heart toward her gently, like a child cradled in her wings.

“I do solemnly swear to give all that I am in service to my Empire. To my ponies. To my home.” Speaking in a voice that carried widely through the assembled masses, Torc placed her hoof upon the Crystal Heart’s central facet. A bright pulse of light filled the Heart, leaking around Torc’s hoof and radiating up her limb. As she slowly pulled the appendage away, a wavering image of her hoofprint traced itself across the Heart before gradually fading away. The Heart flared once softly, a delicate crystallin jingle sounding as if in approval.

The crowd was silent for a moment before applause swept through them like a bolt of lightning. The crowd roared, cheering loudly as Torc trotted sedately back in line, head held high. A peculiar emotion shone in her eyes, she looked perilously close to tears.

“The Empire gives its sincerest thanks for thy dedication, Amber Torc. Thou doest thine ancestors proud.” Cadance praised, her voice wavering with warm force.

Torc bowed deeply, head lowered for some time. Her barrel hitched slightly.

“Whosoever feels thyself ready, please step forward.”

One by one, the line of lords and ladies stepped forward. Following in Torc’s lead, each made their own vows, varying in word and weight, and left left their mark on the Crystal Heart. Many left the relic as deeply affected as Torc. Lady Rose Quartz had to be carried away, too busy squeezing and nuzzling her husband, tears in her eyes to bother with something as trivial as walking. Lord Onyx had a less emotional interaction, stepping away from the Heart laughing like a pony decades younger. Even the Viridian twins had not come away unaffected.







“Wasn’t that amazing, brother dearest?” ”Wasn’t that amazing, sister dearest?”

“Oh, you thought so too, Andalus?”

“Indeed I did, Virida.”

“Then it must have been.” ”Then it must have been.”







Then, finally, there were only two left to approach.

Cruciger smiled broadly as Cadance descended before him, her smile a little more subdued as she extended the Heart toward him. Shining blinked, brow furrowing. Crux’s posture had tensed considerably as Cruciger stepped toward the Crystal Heart.

The crowd’s silence slowly grew uncertain as time continued to stretch on. Cruciger stood still, a single stride’s distance from the figure of his reflection in the magic crystal. He stared into its multihued facets, seemingly lost.

“Lord Cruciger.” Cadance asked, concern in her reverberating tones. “For what reason dost thou hesitate so?”

“Forgive me, Cadance. It seems I’ve been waiting for this moment my entire life, and now that it has finally arrived, I can’t help but savor it.”

“That’s Princess Cadance.” Shining called from his presiding position atop the podium.

“Of course, quite right. My apologies, princess, I believe I am read now.”

Smiling serenely, Cadance nodded and once more proffered the Heart, watching as Cruciger placed his hoof firmly on the facet.

“An ancient rite, this is.” Cruciger said, voice carrying over the noise of the crowd to the farthest corners. “And therefore, it is only fitting that I give my oath in as revered a manner as possible.”

Cruciger inhaled deeply, eyes closed in focus as a steady stream of unfamiliar words poured from his lips.

The Crystal Heart pulsed brightly. Cadance glanced down in surprised as the crystal’s myriad rainbow hues were replaced with a bright, golden light.

“I, Cruciger, do solemnly swear to restore my once proud heritage to its true glory. No matter the cost.”

The Crystal Heart rang with approval, its clear, dulcet peal echoing through the very cobblestones of the city. As Cruciger stepped back into line amidst deafening silence, the golden radiance slowly faded. The blazing hoofprint in its center shining like a beacon in the night before it too vanished.

Crux watched the blonde unicorn’s stately approach carefully. Something had changed about him, something subtly different in his stride, the way his hooves struck pavement, than there had been just moments before. It was confidence, Crux decided. Cruciger had a look in his eyes and a way he held himself, a certain way in which he regarded all around him, that spoke of judgement. And he found all he saw lacking.

Crux was reminded of a conqueror on survey.

“The Heart hears thy oath, Cruciger, and gives thanks to thee for thy dedication.” Cadance decreed uncertainly, a faint look of confusion marring her otherwise detached, motherly countenance.

“My thanks, Princess. It was my honor.” Cruciger said as he stepped neatly back into line beside Crux.

Crux tensed as a low whisper reached him, his ear flicking in response.

“Your turn, cousin.”

Crux glared at his neighbor, a small scowl darkening his features as he noticed Cruciger’s slight smirk. The slow turn of his eye to meet Crux’s gaze and the challenging quirk of his lip set Crux’s teeth grinding, infuriated at his inability to react to the prodding.

As their joined gazes finally broke and Crux regained notice of the expectant hush of the crowd and the warm, welcoming smile of the princess. Breathing a deep sigh in preparation, Crux began the short trek toward where Cadance levitated.

As the inviting radiance of the Crystal Heart filled his gaze, but did not blind him, a small panicked feeling sparked into existence somewhere deep in the more instinctive part of his mind. It was not the aversion to crowds, ever-present and crippling, but rather some sort of deeply rooted warning that whatever was to come next would not be pleasant. 

He could feel Blackheart’s presence in the far reaches of his mind, like the touch of another pony on the back of his neck. However, the old spirit made no effort to speak, seemingly subdued after the conversation with Cruciger.

Crux halted as he reached the enchanted stone, extended toward him by the princess invitingly. As his hoof lifted towards the crystal’s central facet and the solid surface began to glow in response to his proximity, his thoughts drifted to Silver and Olive, and whether by doing this, he would see them again.

“Father, no!”

His eyes snapped up faster than he thought possible as he saw two distinctive forms dashing through the crowd toward him, two larger, unknown figures close behind. 

“Olive? Silver?”

Then his hoof completed its journey, pressing firmly down upon the Crystal Heart and linking them. The Heart rang loudly, a sharp, painful sound that seemed to scream denial. A harsh, white light filled his eyes, burning deeply into his vision. He could feel the pulse in his vest as the shard reacted strongly to the magic cooking him alive.

The white light became his world, and he knew no more.

> Interlude Chapter - Daring Operations
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

This was it. The time of action.

This was her moment, the epitome of all that she’d strived for in these few short moments. She could feel her mind and body tense, limbs coiling with energy for that all important first step. A flying leap would be first, followed by a stealthy roll onto solid ground to ease impact and continue momentum. Then the slide into cover behind the wrought iron fences coated with crawling ivy and grape vines. Just in time to avoid the curious gazes of the patrolling guards, their eyes trained every second for the slightest movement, the single errant twitch.

Cool as a cucumber.

She’d gone over and re-ran every single second of this impending feat of stealth and agility in her mind a dozen times. She was ready. The passing sentinel wouldn’t even know she’d come and gone, like a wraith in the mist.

She was the shadow, as the shadow was her. She was stealth, her thin body possessed of a lithe grace enviable by even the most skilled of jungle cats.

She was the savior! The heroine to top all action movie heroines!

She was—!

*Croak*

— screaming like a little filly as she sprung through the air, limbs locked with terror as she flew from her hiding place amongst the vines and shrubs to tumble into an embarrassing heap on the soft, loamy earth.

Her eyes were glassy with shock, wide and unseeing as the uncontrollable hammering beneath her ribcage shook her frame harder than the bumpiest sleigh ride. The need for oxygen forgotten as her steady breathing was replaced with a high-pitched squealing gasp of intake prolonged by the all encompassing surprise.

*Croak*

With a ripe splat, the warty mass of pasty green swamp spawn landed upon her forehead. Disbelief etched a slow portrait of flushed reds across Silver’s face as she stared into the frog’s beady black eyes. The bemused amphibian inflated in a slow croak of amusement before hopping daintily off of the embarrassed foal’s face and into a nearby artificial pond with a splash.

Silver let the mortified blush on her cheeks simmer quietly for a few seconds before righting her awkwardly placed body. Giving her limbs a cursory swipe with her wings and straightening a few errant feathers, she cleared her throat loudly to drown out the silence of a moment best left to the void of embarrassing secrets she kept locked up in the deepest vaults of her mind.

Silver turned to a nearby guardspony hesitantly, a small smirk quirking her lips.

“Not gonna tell anypony about that, huh big fella?”

The chiseled statue responded as only a statue could. Silver smiled and gave the statue a rough pat, her hoof clicking on the hard marble. “A pony that can keep a secret, huh? I like that. Keep up the good work!”

Brushing past the ornamental security, Silver trotted down the well-trodden earthen path that wound its way sedately between the decorative ponds and foliage. The soft sounds of the garden wildlife gave her surroundings a soothing ambience that let Silver’s mind wander as far as her hooves.

Silver had to hand it to the bigwigs, when it came to making fancy-schmancy gardens and tear jerking pieces of art, they really went all out. She’d been working her way through the myriad twisting paths and walkways of the indoor garden since she’d left the greenhouse behind a few hours ago. She’d begun to suspect the place was enchanted to be bigger on the inside than it looked on the outside, otherwise the Crystal Palace would’ve been huge. 

She didn’t pretend to try and understand how exactly she’d noticed the possibility, after all that sort of thing had always been Olive’s forte. Silver had always been the more assertive of the two, and the least likely to think her actions through. Take today’s earlier situation for example.

Her daring escape from Frankenmare’s castle and stealthy infiltration of the empire’s capital was a tale for the ages! A thrilling tale of of excitement, danger and…

It had actually been pretty easy and more than a little boring.

Silver had earned a healthy respect for Vanilla over the time she had known the mare. Not only had she shown enough concern for Silver’s plight to lend a hoof in the undertaking, but she had proven herself a cunning mastermind in the arts of stealth and espionage.

It was surprising what you could accomplish with a little bit of sweet talking, a generous hoofful of makeshift mane dye and an astonishing lack of caution and common sense. With a few well placed lies and a new head of chocolate colored frizz for a mane, she’d been successfully passed off as Vanilla’s adorably rambunctious niece on an educational visit from lands unknown. Turns out that the head chef had a soft spot for foals buried somewhere under that Neigh York accent. Deep, deep down under the accent.

Despite her obvious fear of the grizzled spoon wielding kitchen pony, Vanilla had managed to beg a favor from the cooks and gotten her a few babysitters. Since the cooks would be coming along with the mass exodus of almost every member of the estate’s staff, she’d acquired a free ride straight to the palace’s doorstep! The guards had waved her and the other staff in without so much as a second glance, and had seemed to welcome all the extra help if the sheer amount of work going on to feed all the partygoers was any indication of their need.

And if the trip to the capital had been easy, getting out of the kitchens had been a breeze. It had only been a few minutes before all the head chefs decided to but heads until the hardest skull earned the right to be head head chef. Silver had taken advantage of the ensuing shouting over stoves and the clack of wooden spoons to slip quietly through the nearest door and begin the search for the nearest pint-sized egghead.

Silver usually prided herself on her ability to navigate through unfamiliar territory. Olive had said it was something to do with a pegasus’ natural abilities to predict and avoid dangerous terrain or something like that. But it seemed that Silver had underestimated the Crystal Palace’s ability to be extremely confusing. 

It hadn’t even been half an hour before she’d gotten horribly lost.

Somehow between avoiding the occasional patrol and bypassing rooms filled with the sounds of music and laughter, she’d wound up shoving her way past a door and stepping into a wall of humid air that had smacked her in the face like a wet towel.

A hop, skip and a jump over the ensuing hours of time spent wandering aimlessly through a dense screen of non-native plant life and battling hordes of adorably mischievous garden critters brought her day back to the present as the endless path continued doing what it did best.

“The comics always make this sneaking thing out to be a lot more interesting.” Silver mumbled to herself, eyes roaming passively left to right in the forgotten hope of seeing anything other than a continuing glimpse of palmettos, rose bushes and the occasional bullfrog.

“It almost makes me wish you frogs could talk so I could ask for directions.” She huffed, eyeing a sedately squat leaper crouched protectively amongst his small throne of lily pads and pond lotuses.

“Bloody ridiculous…”

Silver jerked mid-stride, doing a nervous double-take to eye the pasty amphibian as her brain tried to play catch-up with what her ears had told her.

“D-did you say something, croaker?”

The croaker in question blinked languidly, it’s slack features displaying disinterest with the tan pegasus standing accusingly outside his watery realm.

“...the puffed up git…”

“What did you call me?” Silver hissed, eyes narrowing dangerously.

The amphibian blinked in alarm as the pegasus rapidly closed the distance through the shallows, upsetting the tranquil balance of the pond with splashing hooves to shove her muzzle up against his snout.

“Why don’t you say that again to my face, slimeball. Think you’re tough, do ya?”

Squirming uncomfortably on his pad, the frog gave a soft croak before springing from his perch and away from the aggressive foal. A wheeze escaped his pasty lips as two tan blurs whipped across his line of sight and grabbed his squishy body tightly, pinning his forelimbs as he was swept nauseatingly through the air back to face the smoldering eyes of an angry huntress.

“Oh don’t think you can just talk smack and hop off like that, ya little bugger. Ain’t no way a little guy like you is gonna get to squeeze away from me.” Silver growled.

Beads of sweat broke out across the frog’s brow as he gazed headlong into the pony’s penetrating stare, his body giving uncomfortable squishing noises as her hooves increased their pressure. 

“Who does he think he is, orderin’ me around?”

He croaked miserably as Silver’s eyes widened in outrage, her teeth baring in a silent snarl.

“Oh that’s it! You asked for it you little—”

A sharp crash, louder than the ones that had, unbeknownst to Silver, steadily been increasing in volume startled the two combatants. Gasping softly, Silver’s ingrained pony instincts made the immediate motion to beat a hasty gallop toward the nearest available cover but her scrambling hooves slipped on the slick pond sediment underhoof, sending her underwater with a loud splash—

Just as a short, gruff stallion shouldered his way through the dense foliage, crushing plant fronds and twigs under his iron shod hooves and plowing past natural obstacles as though either unaware of their existence or too annoyed to care.

“Jus’ wait till I get my mitts on that dirty—what the?”

The stallion stared as the frothing waters of the pond slowly settled, disturbed waves lapping at the edges of the trodden path. A lone frog sat perched on a drifting lily pad looking somewhat sheepish as the water rocked his makeshift raft. 

The stallion blinked in surprise as he and the amphibian watched each other warily.

“Oi,” Grout laughed, a crass grin revealing yellowed and crooked teeth. “You’re a noisy little blighter, now inn’t ya? Shouldn’t you be off hidin’ from big blokes like me instead o’ raisin’ racket? Eh?”

Grout gave a nearby rock a sharp swipe with a hoof, casting it into the water near the occupied pad with a splash. The frog gave a strangled quork as he edged away from the point of splashdown.

“Teach you, noisy devil.” Grunting in satisfaction, Grout turned back to the dirt path and resumed plowing a trench through protruding vegetation, muttering to himself angrily as he receded from sight.

The frog watched the irate stallion stomp off before giving a weary sigh. The stillness was broken by his loud croak, signalling an all clear.

He scrambled for balance as his seat rose rapidly from the surface of the water, droplets forming along the edges and dripping down with small splashes onto the damp fur below.

Silver lifted a hoof, propping up the lily pad’s dangling edge to warily scope out the trail of destruction left in the stallion’s wake. 

“Think he’s far enough away to not hear us?”

*Croak*

“Yeah. Sorry for that little mistake. I thought you were bein’ a punk.” Silver grinned sheepishly up past her lily hat, her ears lowering as she saw the frog’s unamused glare.

“My bad.”

Silver hauled her drenched form out of the artificial pond with careful steps, not wanting a repeat of the events that led to her soaking. The frog gave soft croaks of encouragement as Silver stood shivering on the bank, water dripping from her mane and wings and her legs and body caked with muck and pond slime.

“At least it’s kinda warm in here,” Silver mumbled eyeing her soaked plumage distastefully. “I should dry off in a bit. Not much I can do about the mud, though.”

Silver eyed the trampled trail through the undergrowth seriously as the soft plops of her dripping fur began to slow. The frog leaped hurriedly to the ground as a sodden hoof reached up to pull the limp pad down from her head. He watched mournfully as the once-stately perch sailed majestically through the air to land with a wet flop in the bushes.

“You know who that was croaker?”

*Croak*

“I think that was one of Frankenmare’s stooges. Trout or whatever ‘is name was...and y’know what else? I think he knows where Olive is.”

A devious grin curled the pony’s lips as she swiped the frog off of the grass to give it a new perch atop her damp mane.

“You thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’ croaker?”

The frog sighed, gripping nearby strands of mane for impromptu reins and giving a resigned croak as Silver leaped down the path, hooves beating a muffled staccato on the soft soil.







Olive frowned, ears drooping mournfully as she watched the stars begin to peek through the sun’s fading light. The ponies below looked like ants from her vantage point, muzzle pressed to the thick glass panes of a guest suite window stories above even the tallest of the surrounding cities’ rooftops. The palace offered a commanding view of the surrounding countryside. Nestled comfortably in the grassy Commons, the glittering buildings within her view rolled out before her like a mosaic of painted glass lining streets arrayed like the branches of an enormous snowflake.

Beyond the city limits she could just make out the edge of the enchanted biosphere that kept the air in the capitol balmy even in the midst of the white wintry landscape that stretched as far as the horizon. It was hard to be certain in the fading light, but the frequency of the strong gusts that brushed the shell of the biosphere leaving faintly glowing trails made it seem like there was a blizzard of some kind raging outside.

As her bespectacled gaze swept across the city her eyes were drawn to one rooftop in particular. Shimmer Quarter, all the way down Bauxite lane and take the second to last street on the right.

The orphanage. The home that had never really been a home.

Olive watched it carefully, even though seeing any noticeable activity at this distance was unlikely. And though the building’s front was faced away from her, her mind’s eye could still see the creaking weather vane over the dormitories whose shrill creaking had kept her awake at night more times than she could count.

She wondered if any of the ponies she’d known before she and Silver had been adopted were still there. There’d be a good few most likely, though there was the possibility for a few to have been adopted, as she had.

Maybe Tourmaline had finally gotten up the courage to go talk to a few possible parents. And Olive had thought of herself as being socially awkward. Diadem was probably still making it her mission in life to drink as much of the party punch in one sitting as possible, so she always missed talking to a few couples due to her frequent dashes to the restroom.

She wondered if Matron Veil was still trying to make a move on the Director. She wasn’t sure what had been more painful to watch in those days. Watching Veil make her shameless passes or watch the Director’s completely oblivious bumbling.

She wondered how Matron Rule was doing.

It had been a bittersweet moment when Silver and her had left with Mr. Crux. She could tell that Golden Rule had been happy for them, but it was still a little painful to hear her say goodbye. Ms. Rule was one of the few adults at the orphanage that had made interactions with the foals on a more personal level. She bonded with every pony who met her and Olive had watched many ponies be adopted who had been very close with their matron. 

She hadn’t ever told Ms. Rule that she’d seen her crying in her room more than a few times. It had been a secret she’d been too afraid would hurt Mrs. Rule to mention.

It was the orphanage policy to do a check up on any adoptions that had taken place. They were given a ‘trial’ period of sorts. The families and their new members would be given a few month’s time to get to know one another better, to see if they could live together amiably.

Most of the time it was just a formality. Ms. Rule had told her that she would often stop by and be gone within the hour, so obvious was it that the adoption had gone well. But sometimes, Ms. Rule would return with an adoptee in tow. Those were never easy times in the orphanage.

Ms. Rule had also scheduled such a trial for them. Just in case, she’d said.

~~~
“I’m sure everything will go wonderfully, girls.” Golden Rule gave them that glowing smile that always made them grin.

“The Cruxes are a well known family around the business districts, so I’m sure you’ll have tons of fun new experiences. But...just in case, you two know about the Fair coming up in the next few months?”

At their solemn nods she smiled again, though the girls could see a bit of her uncertainty in the strain around the corners.

“A little bit longer than most, but I know that Mr. Crux lives all the way in Slateridge, so it saves us the trip. I know that most likely he’ll be here in the capitol around then, most important ponies will be and I trust he’ll bring you two along as well. So we’ll have our little check up then.”

“Good luck girls! And try to get along with your new family.”

~~~

Olive scanned the streets swarming with multicolored forms for a glimpse of her old matron’s golden mane but from this distance she could barely recognize the shapes as ponies let alone tell them apart individually.

She sighed softly, her warm breath misting the glass. She wondered if Ms. Rule would come looking for them if they weren’t able to meet like they’d planned. Though the lack of any sign of rescue after Silver’s token on the serving trolley had dulled her imaginings of a quick rescue, she still found herself holding out hope. If there was one thing for certain, Silver was a stubborn pony. If she was out there looking for a way to rescue Olive, then she was completely certain it would happen.

When that might be however, she was uncertain.

“Hey, brat. Whatever little ideas you got running around in that noggin of yours that’s got you sighing like a sad little princess, forget ‘em. And get away from the window while you’re at it. Can’t have it said you fell out of the damned thing on my watch. Malice might think I’d thrown you out myself.”

Olive bit her lip, a brief flicker of annoyance washing through her before she carefully schooled her features. She didn’t want a repeat of the last time she’d let Rivet see anything other than fearful compliance on her face.

Olive turned around, hooves padding softly on the carpeted floors. She had to make a conscious effort to raise her gaze from the floor to meet that of the stallion eyeing her from his position at the only door across the room.

Of her three captors, she disliked and feared Rivet the most.

A gruff and irate stallion at the best of times, Rivet was a burly earth pony with long limbs covered in veiny muscle. A short, mussed coat of steel grey fur clung to his frame like an oil stained rag. The muscles in his thick jaw clenched and relaxed with near clockwork regularity as they corded under his skin. Dark, deep-set eyes glowered from underneath a heavy brow that bunched and beetled whenever he saw anything he disliked.

Which, as far as Olive had been able to tell over the weeks of her captivity, was pretty much everything. She’d even seen him punch a mirror once after staring at his reflection.

As she met his gaze, her eyes were drawn to the sharp shadows that flickered across his forehead as his brow bunched.

“Got something to say?” He growled.

Olive’s eyes dropped immediately to the floor, her body adopting a submissive posture.

“No sir, sorry sir.”

He snorted, the muscles in his jaw working overtime.

“Good, now get away from the damn window like I said.”

“Yes sir.”

Olive resented every step she took as she crouched down at the foot of the large four poster bed that dominated a large corner of the room. As she laid her head down on her forelimbs, Olive seethed internally. All she’d been doing was looking out the window. It was impossible for anypony looking at the palace to have noticed her, let alone recognized her for who she was. She knew this, and she had no doubt Rivet knew it as well. He’d only told her to leave the window because he enjoyed causing her as much discomfort as possible. 

Before Rivet had managed to kidnap her, she’d secreted the medallion away in a small pocket dimension she’d created after reading about a similar spell used back in the days of Roam. When political spies needed someplace to hide incriminating documents where they couldn’t be found in a casual search. 

When he’d shown up to his bosses carrying nothing but a bag filled with a bruised and battered filly with no signs of antique baubles or intricate prismatic discs, he’d wound up in hot water.

And he took every conceivable opportunity to repay her in spades.

But as much as she despised it, she couldn’t complain. If she complained, Rivet would find that as good a reason as any to punish her. The only pony who really seemed able to make Rivet do anything other than whatever it was he felt like was Malice. Though he didn’t show it, Olive was certain he feared the steely mare. And Olive had felt the strength in Malice’s magic firsthand. She was no pushover.

But Malice wasn’t here, she’d left Olive with Rivet and Grout when her lady had called her as escort for the evening. And Rivet had sent Grout out on some errand for something or other. As far as she could tell, Rivet had the shorter stallion running constant updates back to Malice, and she could tell the stocky pony resented the tedious grunt work.

She wondered, not for the first time, if she could somehow play the two hotheaded stallions against each other. It was obvious that the dislike was mutual and ran very deep. Whatever the two goons were being payed must’ve been no paltry sum for them to have tolerated each other’s presence for so long.

Her only concern was whether or not Grout could win the resulting altercation. Rivet may have been many things, but he wasn’t stupid. He would know it had been her idea, and if she went her whole life without feeling the power in those iron-shod hooves again it would be too soon by half.

But for the time being, Grout wasn’t here and Rivet was sitting in the same spot as he’d been in since their arrival at the palace. Watching her with his forehead rumpled like old newspaper.

So Olive smothered a sigh and turned her head to a more comfortable position on her forelegs, resigned to waiting out another day.

And then she heard hooves.







Not for the first time, Silver marveled at how completely oblivious this stallion was. 

He’d steamrolled right through the palace’s indoor gardens and down the seemingly endless hallways with little to no regard to his surroundings. She’d learned fairly early on that any semblance of stealth was completely wasted on this pony, his angry mumbling was so loud Silver could hear it clear as day over the sound of party going outside the palace walls. They passed several notable markers as she followed him at a measured distance, and she made mental note of each and every one in preparation of a quick return trip.

She’d almost begun to think she’d made a mistake in following this guy, seeing how completely random his choice of path seemed when she noticed the shape and decoration of the walls began to change. 

The opaque shimmering surfaces of the hallways around them was replaced with a serene turquoise material that reflected the soft light from metal sconces with a soothing glow. That and the noticeable lack of defining markers near or on every doorway led her to believe they’d entered a residential area of some kind.

Bingo.

She stumbled to a halt in alarm as the harsh banging echoed down the hall via the unnatural crystallin acoustics. Edging carefully around the corner, Silver managed to catch a quick glimpse of Grout wailing angrily away at a rather battered door frame. It seemed this particular scene had been repeating itself more than a few times.

“Oi, Rivet! Lemme in already!”

Silver’s eyes in anticipation as she watched the door hurriedly open, another stallion Silver recognized as the other half of the dastardly duo growl angrily.

“You loudmouth! Didn’t I tell you not to say my name out loud? Who knows who might hear you!”

“Oh, aye. Because that’s what’ll clue in the passersby, eh? Yer name, and not the fact that ya smell worse than me grandda’s lucky horseshoes and look half a sight sorrier. If ya’d just open the damn door, I wouldn’t hafta shout at ya now would I?”

“Watch it, Grout.”

“Watch it he says ta me!” The gruff earth pony shoulders his way past the fuming stallion and steps into the room and out of Silver’s line of sight, talking animatedly to himself.

“As if he has any right ta tell me ta watch it! He’s the one who sits on his sorry arse all day, watchin’ the wee lass, whereas me own self? I has ta go sloggin’ through some excuse fer a nature garden filled with buzzin’ insects and fat, warty little blighters—”

The tirade fades to near inaudibility as Rivet shuts the door, the protesting door rattling in its frame. Silver eased around the corner cautiously, patting the irate mass atop her head who had begun to softly croak in indignation.

“Easy there croaker, we can’t blow this now. Olive’s so close I can practically smell her.”

Silver took an obliging whiff of the air, her nose shriveling.

“Or maybe that’s just all this dried pond muck.” 

*Croak*

“Right! It looks like Olive needs a hand, and we’re poised to strike!”

*Croak?*

“Well yeah! You are gonna help me rescue Olive, right?”

…

“Oh come on! After all this, everything we’ve been through, you’re gonna turn warts and hop away? I thought we had something special, croaker.”

…

*Sigh...Croak.*

“Yes! I knew you wouldn’t let me down, you sly frog. Now lets get to it. I think I saw a broom closet a few halls back and it gives me an idea."







“Croaker, next time I suggest we use four tubs of super deluxe strength floor polish instead of three, croak some sense into me!”

*Croak!*

“I said next time!”

“Silver!” Olive screeched, barreling down hallways beside her dirty sibling in full flight from the sounds of angry shouting and slide whistles as their pursuers slid uncontrollably into nearby obstacles. “Stop chatting with the frog and lead us to the exit!”

“I’m trying alright! And don’t diss the croaker. It ain’t exactly the easiest thing to find the right door in this place, it’s like a maze!”

“Didn’t you plan for this before you rode into the suite on the back of a wave of cleaning products?”

Silver dashed around a corner with Olive in hot pursuit as the two furious stallions careened by shortly afterward, unable to control forward momentum with hooves coated in oily surfactant.

“Hey, I made mental notes! It took long enough to think of Operation: Slippery When Wet anyway!”

“You just made up your plan on the spot didn’t you…” Olive groused.

“Well to be honest, I didn’t have a lot to improvise with Olive. Excuse me for tryin'.”






















> Sometimes True Gain...
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

He felt as though he were floating. Caught somewhere in that hazy realm between rest and waking. His thoughts crawled, struggling to manage coherency in his addled state. 

Jet.

Crux mentally jerked, curling back in on himself reflexively as the intruding voice prodded at his faculties. A groggy sense of wakefulness made its first appearance as Crux’s mind tried to scrape itself back together. 

Jet, awaken. We grow impatient.

Once again the voice brought with it some semblance of clarity, like a slap across the muzzle. Some intricacy of the speech tweaked Crux’s mind, bringing half-formed memories of past conversations bobbing to light before fading back into the waking abyss.

“W-what? Where am I?”

Crux felt a rumbling sense of satisfaction pressing in on him from all directions before words once again slid between his thoughts like cold steel.

You have awakened, that is well. As for your question, Jet, you are with us now.

“What? Blackheart?” As if triggered by his remembering, the thought of his personal poltergeist brought Crux’s mind screaming back to reality. “What is this? What do you mean I’m with you?”

You reside with us, Jet. Within our sphere. We are somewhat disappointed, you know. For over a millennia our home has remained unseen by mortal eyes yet you carry on as if it is only so much business.

Crux blinked—or at least tried to, before coming to the sudden realization that he hadn’t felt himself blink. A hard ball of panic settled in his gut,  highly resistant to Crux’s attempts to quash it. He turned his gaze down to his hooves, unsettled by the missing sensation of his neck craning, and was met with a shifting, inky blackness that seemed to stretch in all directions.

“What’s going on, Blackheart?” He muttered, his thoughts echoing out into the void. 

Ah yes, a pitiable situation. We found it necessary to anchor your soul lest it be blown into the aether. We tried to warn you after all. Most foolish, Jet.
.
Crux’s mind was disoriented by a sudden assault of images. Cadance aglow in the magic of the Crystal Heart, a smug smile and icy blue eyes, three ponies fleeing a pursuer, his own hoof descending onto the Heart, a bright flash of light and a swift sensation of agony.

Crux reeled from the sudden change as the images faded, replaced by the all-consuming darkness. 

“The Heart…”

Aye, Blackheart growled angrily. The impudent whelp warded it against you, using it as it was used against your uncle. Touching it nearly ripped you apart, body and spirit. Be thankful We were watchful, otherwise you might have been utterly decimated. As it stands, We managed to extend enough of our influence to shelter your body from the brunt of the explosion—

“Explosion?!”

Yes, it was quite the sight. It left an impressive crater in the courtyard.

“That bastard! He tried to kill me!”

Perhaps, though We feel that was not his specific intent. Most likely he merely meant to incapacitate you.

“Well, it sounds like he did a pretty damn good job of that too now didn’t he?”

Indeed. We must give our grudging approval. With your body laid low, We cannot extend our will to affect the events in the ceremony. Blackheart snarled viciously.

“Events? What else is happening?”

Though the sudden intrusion was just as jarring, Crux was more prepared for the second occurrence. His mind’s eye was awash in color was he observed the ceremony as though through a telescope. The focus swayed dramatically, giving him an eagle’s view one moment before a bile raising swoop into closer detail the next.

Focus, Jet. You are too comfortable relying on your physical eyes. Merely will your gaze to wander as you wish and your mind’s eye shall make it so.

“Makes me wish I’d paid more attention in Magical Theories lectures.” Crux grumbled.

It was a peculiar twist of will, but a singular thought came to the forefront of his mind and he watched as the colors whorled and coalesced into an appreciable image.

Which nearly shattered as Crux felt his mind freeze in horror.

It’s a curious sensation, to look down on one’s own smoking body. A thin trail of pale smoke wafted from the tip of Crux’s soot stained crystal horn, which noted the only truly defining feature of the blackened pony-shaped lump. His green vest had been singed beyond use as clothing, nevermind recognition and his mane, once tied back in a ponytail, was now burnt and gnarled. The state of himself was almost enough to make him miss the ponies around him. Two of them he recognized as the girls, hovering over him with concern and giving him soft shoves as a strange mare with a thick mass of brown curls cradled his head, peeking into his eyes.

His heart leapt into his throat as he watched them crouched amidst the seared rubble of a recently excavated crater in the cobblestones.

Do not focus on these smaller distractions, Jet. Your physical form is safe for the time being. There are more pressing matters in need of your attention.

Crux felt a curious pressure on his thoughts as his view was swept away from his prone body. His gaze was drawn up above the scrambling masses until he could finally see the destruction being wrought in the Commons. 

A pink hemisphere of energy pulsed softly against the darkening light as wave after wave of concussive force broke upon its shell. Cobblestones cracked and mortar crumbled as the misdirected energy spent itself against the nearest surroundings. Through the haze of dust and flickering magic, Crux could just barely make out by hornlight the dull glimmer of Prince Armor’s helmet as he stoically bore the untold pressure of the magical assault. The protective magic defending his civilians and surrounding nobility from the backlash.

Princess Cadance on the other hand was much more visible than her husband. 

Radiating a harsh white glow, the crown princess of the Crystal Empire displayed a mastery of destructive magic few in the empire had ever witnessed, let alone thought possible by the princess of love and caring.

Bolts of pure kinetic force slammed into a hovering target across the grass like runaway freight trains. Even from his unknown distance within the Cradle Crux could feel her drawing on his love, his drive for serving his ponies and his country. She drew upon his passions as she drew upon countless others, and turned their burning emotion into a seething ball of pyrotechnic fury that slammed into her wavering target with a muted explosion. She leached the lingering despair from his heart, bolstering his resolve even as she molded it into an arcing wall of elemental cold that covered the gardens in inches thick sheets of ice and hoarfrost.

She even exuded an aura of sorrow and heartbreak so strong that Crux felt as though his spirit might cave in anguish at the unnecessary combat. And it hadn’t even been pointed at him.

Needless to say, the Princess of Love was trying her damnedest to whoop flank.

“Cruciger!” Cadance shouted, her voice magically amplified to echo across the city with the fury of an irate deity. She paused in her arcane assault long enough to allow the dust to settle, finally giving Crux a chance to view the object of her ire.

Cruciger Crucius floated serenely, the Crystal Heart emitting a soft, loving glow as it completed a languid orbit around his body. His coat didn’t even look rumpled.

Brushing a speck of imagined dust from his lapel, Cruciger smiled the smile of the self-assured. His brows rose in amusement and curiosity as Cadance’s honor guard began to encircle his position, wary of approaching too close should their princess choose to renew her attack.

“Absolutely awe-inspiring.” He mused to himself, eyes wandering over the surrounding forces and the furious alicorn before stopping on the floating crystalline relic suspended in pulses of magic.

“Cruciger! What have you done?!” Cadance shouted, impatience with Cruciger’s seeming nonchalance evident in her voice.

The lord of High Peaks seemed almost bemused as he observed the alicorn huff with suppressed rage. His smirk was so smug, it filled Crux with a sense of deep loathing.

“Why, Cadance. I’ve done what I set out to do. I’ve taken the first steps to restoring the prestige and glory of the old empire.” He breathed almost reverently.

“You’ve killed Lord Crux!” Cadance spat, quivering with rage. Her coat bristled beneath her regalia.

“An unfortunate side effect, I hadn’t expected the Crystal Heart to react quite so violently. I assure you however, he’s quite alive.”

The Crystal Heart pulsed with a sort of half light. The space around it warped like a ripple in still water and spread out across the city in slow pulses. They washed over Crux with an almost physical force. The light made Crux’s spirit crawl like a host of earthworms and if he’d been in possession of his body, he was sure he would have shivered. He fought off the disorienting sensation, only to feel a cold drop of ice travel the length of his non-existant spine.

Cruciger was staring directly at him, smug smirk and all.

“After all, we of House Crucius are notoriously hard to be rid of. Are we not, cousin?” Cruciger smiled almost warmly up at him, a malevolent glint in his eyes. It made Crux want to vomit.


~~~


“How does he know where I am?” Crux asked, feeling the malevolent presence lingering over his metaphorical shoulder.

His grip on our Heart has grown strong. It has recognized him as one of the Blood and surrendered its powers.

“So...so he wasn’t lying. He really is related to me?”

He spoke no falsehood. Different halves of the same line, you both are. You were meant to be Our eyes and ears. He, Our hand and sword. Blackheart’s voice faded to a bare whisper, rasping and growling. Out of the two of you, We expected you to put up the most resistance, Jet. It seems Sombra’s get has grown forgetful of their purpose.

“But how can he wield the Crystal Heart? Didn’t it eradicate Sombra’s shadow? It should be doing the same to Cruciger.”

Blackheart rumbled, as though pondering something. Crux had begun to think the old spirit wouldn’t answer him when the answer came, slow and reluctant.

Nay, Jet. Our Heart cannot destroy Cruciger. It will not. It eradicated Sombra, aye. Because he was an extension of Our nature.

Your uncle was a powerful vessel, but imperfect. His body was unable to contain Our essence, a side effect of which was being reduced to his gaseous form. The only reason he was destroyed as such was on part of your mother. When she sealed Us into our Cradle, it cut Sombra off from our presence. Our Heart is a fulcrum of sorts for Our magic, Jet. We balance each other, that we do not affect the world around Us too strongly.

“So… since he was serving as your vessel before, the Heart recognized Sombra as a source of your magic and...tried to balance him? Like it tried to balance me.”’

Aye. We imagine it was similar to stopping an ant with an avalanche.


~~~


“What are you on about, Cruciger?” Shining Armor growled, a slight hint of strain in his voice from the effort of holding up his shield.

“Why, Shining. I thought it was obvious. I’m deposing your darling wife!”

One of the surrounding honor guard strode forward, readying his lance and eyeing Cruciger viciously from under his ornamental half-helm. “Surrender fiend, and the princess shall show you mercy!”

“Fiend?” Cruciger rolled his eyes, his smirk replaced with a tired grimace. “How utterly cliché.”

“Enough games, Cruciger! This is your final warning. Relinquish the Heart to me before I take it from you.” A bright flash of light accompanied Cadance’s proclamation. The surrounding ponies winced from the force of the glare. 

Cruciger snorted, all traces of mirth gone from his complexion as a cold frown accompanied his icy stare. “That was almost amusing, Cadance, but I fear I’m growing more than a touch bored with this little game of ours. Here is my own proposal.”

“Submit.”

Crux blinked, stupefied. He wasn’t the only one. The legions of honor guard surrounding the stallion looked just as flummoxed. Cadance allowed her jaw to droop slightly, and even Shining Armor’s force barrier flickered from his loss of concentration.

And then the snickering began.

It was a quiet snort here, a small chuckle there. Before long several of the guards had broken into subdued laughter at the outrageous demand. Who did this pony think he was? He was facing down the might of the Crystal Empire’s legionary as well as their deific leader. He honestly expected them to bow to his wishes?

The fools. Blackheart whispered.

The princess did not join the merriment. “I’ve had enough of your games, Cruciger.”

Cruciger’s eyes lost their glint, darkening into malevolent pools.

If ever Sombra had a fatal flaw, it was his pride. 

“Who ever said I was playing, Cadance?” Cruciger hissed. 

“Submit,” Cruciger said, his voice lowering to a seething whisper of malice. “Recognize when you are outmatched and surrender the empire to my dominion. I swear on my name and my house that the common pony will suffer not for the changes I shall make if you go sensibly. Perhaps I will even allow you to live, though at the very least it shall be imprisoned in a crystal statue. Tradition and all that.”

“Cruciger, listen to yourself. This is madness!” Godric cried as he stepped in front of his wife, shielding her from Cruciger’s view with his body.

His armor clanked as Shining stepped aggressively forward, placing himself between Cruciger and the other ponies within his magic. Steam venting from the grill of his visor as he snorted. “You’ll touch Cadance over my dead body.”

Cruciger eyed the armored prince as he might eye a curious insect underhoof. “Believe me Shining Armor, I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Isn’t that right, Torc my dear?”

Shining’s aggressive stance eased, lifting his head in confusion. “What do you—”

Shining grunted.

He turned, feeling the brush of another pony’s coat against his decorative sash as he felt a cold shiver run down from his neck and become a spasm as it passed through his barrel. As the mare stepped away from his side, he stared in disbelief as he watched Torc’s hoof scrape off of the edge of the knife buried to the hilt in his barrel amidst the cloth covered gaps in his regalia. He felt a blossom of warmth run down his ribs and his knees turn to water as he suddenly had to struggle to remain upright.

“Torc?” Shining whispered, the words sounding hollow and metallic from within his visor.

“My apologies, my prince.” Amber Torc said clutching her reddened hoof to her chest, staining the white fabric of her robe. Her jaw trembled and her sunken, puffy eyes held his own with a manic intensity as if trying to seek his forgiveness through force of gaze alone. “It is what is best for the future of the empire.”

“An alicorn empress I can tolerate, even if she has no idea of the legacy behind the throne she sits.” Cruciger sneered, Torc appearing beside him in time with a soft pulse of the Crystal Heart.

“But the Crystal Empire will never have a prince.”

The pink radiance from Shining’s horn flickered and died, the shield shattering to pieces as the once Captain of the Guard and prince of the Crystal Empire fell to the ground with a thud and a quiet grunt.

“SHINING!”







Crux jerked as his view of the courtyard was suddenly replaced with the familiar inky blackness. He snapped around in a blind panic, forcing every ounce of will he could into trying to recapture the image. Try as he might, however, he could not grasp the magic in his current state.

“Blackheart! Hurry, we have to help!”

There is naught to do, Jet. As We are, We do not have the reach to stop Cruciger.

“You have to do something! We just witnessed regicide for Makers’ sake! Prince Armor could be dying as we speak!”

What would you have of Us, Jet? Much as We are loath to admit it, Cruciger is right. We are tightly bound by the Old Laws, and cannot leave our seat of power personally. The only link We possess to the world above is through you, Jet. Our eyes and ears. The rest is darkness.

Even in the midst of his mind-numbing horror, a part of Crux wondered what it must be like. To live millennia trapped in near ceaseless blackness with only occasional glimpses to let you know that the world had not simply ceased to exist around you.

“Then send me back! Put me back in my body and I—”

And you will what, Jet? Die? As your prince dies? How will you look, We wonder, crushed by the power of Our Heart, or with a dagger sprouting from your bosom.

You are not a pony of war, Jet. You are a unicorn. Aye, of strong blood. Yet you possess but the barest aptitude for magic. Even your telekinesis is barely adequate. You have not sharpened your talents, nor the defenses of your mind. You would be defenseless against Cruciger, even were he not to possess Our Heart. You would be crushed underhoof.

Crux felt a cruel twist in his heart as he heard Blackheart’s words. They lashed at his pride, driving their thorns deep into his mind. He wanted to scream, to rage. He wanted to march up to Cruciger and grind his face into the cobblestones!

For several quiet moments, Crux seethed alone in the dark. Eventually his rage burned low, only smoking coals and cold ashes and he knew why his anger had been so prodigious.

The words that strike cruelest and deepest, are often those that ring true.

Crux remembered that afternoon when he’d first met Olive and Silver at their orphanage. The Director had taken him aside before he’d signed his signature and given him Silver’s record. Its size had been worrisome, and Crux slew stacks of paperwork as a profession. He had read of several instances where Silver had been broken out of numerous fights and altercations at this latest orphanage alone. It was said that often, she’d been provoked. Told she would never fit in because of what she was. A pegasus, alone amongst a crowd.

Crux felt a strange kinship with his daughter that moment.

“So Cruciger wins then. We can’t stop him.”

We disagree.

“What? But I thought you said—”

As We are, We are helpless to stop him. And as you are, you have not the power to resist him. But together, Jet, We can do what neither may do alone.

Give of yourself to Us, Jet. Become our vessel. Let Us bestride the world once again and we will lay waste to the foal’s foolish ambitions. 

“No! Not an option. I’ve told you before, I am not like Sombra. Your ambitions are just as dark as Cruciger’s, and even if we did manage to stop him, how do I know it would end there? I will not be remembered as the second Tyrant. I would be trading one conqueror for another.”

Then we are lost. We shall keep each other company here in my Cradle as Cruciger destroys your world and rebuilds a true empire in the desiccated remains. Your prince shall die, and your princess shall forever remain entombed in a statue to be paraded before the world and mocked.

Your home will be destroyed. Your family will be no more. 

…

And with you gone, what will protect your children? You saw them, just as did We. It appears they were resourceful enough to escape, but what of after? Cruciger kept them well on the assurance of your good behavior. With you out of his way, what is to stop him from—

“Enough!”

The force of the mental shout echoed through the empty void, leaving silence in its wake. Crux trembled with his thoughts, the weight of Blackheart’s words pressing down on him like a sheet of the stone for which his home was named.

The truest words cut the deepest. 

The silence stretched between them on and on. Crux could feel Blackheart’s presence like the ache of an old wound, constant and crippling. He could feel the spirit pressing on him and his fears, believing him at his weakest.

He wondered if this is what it must have been like for his mother, when she had sealed the Cradle away from the outside world. If she had also felt Blackheart breathing down her neck every step of the way, promising pain and suffering for her actions. He remembered how she’d suddenly begun to fade day by day, finally passing peacefully in her sleep. The doctors had said she’d been drained too deeply of her magic and had no idea where it had gone.

From that memory, Crux drew a conclusion. And a plan.

“Alright, Blackheart, you win. I’ll do it. I’ll become your vessel.”

A sudden wave of vicious exultation nearly overwhelmed him. Crux latched on to his singular memory as a source of strength as he rode out the whirlwind of emotions. He prayed that this wasn’t a mistake. But most importantly, he prayed that however this ended his parents would still be proud of him.

He had always been a fan of calculated risks, after all.

Most excellent, Jet! Now We shall finally have what is Ours! We shall again be whole—

“With a few conditions.” Crux could almost feel his father smiling smugly next to him.

Conditions. Blackheart drew out the word slowly, like a buried splinter. Crux could feel the anger and impatience simmering quietly behind the spirit’s tone.

And what are these...conditions?

“Why I’m glad you asked! May I assume that, if neither of us can do this alone, then isn’t it fair to say that the two of us are equals in this venture?”

E-equals? Blackheart spluttered.

“Of course! And like equals, it should be understood that we both profit from this venture. I must protect my assets after all.”

We see. Blackheart muttered. We see that We have been entirely too accommodating with you, Jet. It seems you have begun to understand the nature of our seals. You overstep yourself.

“Do I? We still get what we want, Blackheart. You get your Heart after so long and I get to protect what I love. A fair trade, and I’m not even asking all that much. All I want is a few guarantees from you.”

Such as?

“First, I want your word that you will bring no harm to my family or to my country. As I said, I will not be known as the second Tyrant.”

You are entirely too attached, Jet.

“I know damn well what I am, thank you very much. Swear.”

Very well, Blackheart snapped. We swear not—

“ Uh-uh! Not good enough. I want you to swear on the Old Laws, whatever they may be. I want to know you’ll keep these promises.”

Crux could feel the soul-crushing pressure as Blackheart growled, rage pouring off of him in sickening waves. Echoing from all sides of the black expanse, Jet could hear as shards of crystal broke from the trembling earth and crashed to the ground somewhere deep below.

“Do I have your word, Blackheart?” Crux asked, only the slightest tremble in his voice.

The silence stretched on as Crux baked in the incandescent fury.

Aye. Blackheart spat.

“Excellent. I also want to put limitations on how fully you may possess me.”

The earth overhead rumbled and clashed. Crux wondered if the price of his plan might be more than a few avalanches.

“Don’t worry, I still intend to allow you your full reach. I just want to ensure that I remain aware and in some modicum of control. We do this as a team, or not at all. Besides, everyone at the capitol may be more accepting of our intrusion if I am able to answer them. No offense, but you’re not the most amiable being I’ve ever had discourse with.”

…

“Well?”

We see your reasoning...and find it logical. Very well.

“Good. Now finally, I want your promise not to interfere.”

Interfere with what, might We ask?

“I’ve had enough of this ridiculous haunting act you’ve been pulling on my family all these generations.” Crux barked, projecting his words toward what he hoped was the center of Blackheart’s furious emanations. “It ends with me. I’m going to make sure no one and nothing takes your Heart again. Do we have a deal?”

To protect what is Ours is the true obligation of your lineage, Jet. Blackheart rumbled darkly. Crux felt the daemon’s burning scrutiny as his surface thoughts were probed for dissembling.

Mmm...very well. We agree to your terms.

“Say it…,” Crux warned.

We solemnly swear on the Laws put forth at the Dawn of Equus that We shall abide by the terms of our agreement. So it has been said, so shall it be Our word bound by oath until the end of days when true darkness falls. Blackheart growled.

“A little dramatic, but I suppose you get what you pay for.”

And on the subject of payment…

“Right. Then we’re in agreement. What’s mine is yours, Blackheart.”

Most excellent. Now open your mind to us, Jet, that we might sunder the wards that bind you.

Crux suppressed the surge of nervousness that accompanied the realization that his guess had been correct. He had been ensorcelled. He wasn’t sure when it had happened, when he was a foal most like. But he knew that such protection had come at a dear price. 

As Crux forced himself to relax, allowing the icy sensation of Blackheart’s presence to extend through his being, warm memories of moments alone with his mother sprang unbidden to fight back the chill.

A moment later, Blackheart pushed them aside and Crux’s weary lungs drew breath.







 “Is it workin’, Vanilla? C’mon I can’t tell if it’s workin’.” Silver fretted, rocking Crux’s prone form again in a bout of foalish worry. 

“Silver, stop it. You’re not helping.” Olive grabbed her sister bodily and pulled her hooves away from Crux. She pressed the pegasus in a rib-crushing hug, knowing Silver needed to be doing something physical to soothe her nerves.

Vanilla leaned back to breathe deeply. She was drawing breath faster and faster to fight off the light-headedness that had begun to creep up on her as she attempted to keep Crux breathing.

“He just stopped breathing. Why did he stop? He was fine a moment ago.” Olive whimpered, burying her face in Silver’s frizzy mane.

“It’ll be alright, girls,” Vanilla soothed. “I’ve taken training classes for this.”

“You must be pretty desperate if you took classes on how ta get Prenchy with unconscious ponies.” Silver joked nervously.

Vanilla flushed red, bending back over Crux’s body to avoid eye contact with the two foals.

“Silver please, she’s performing cardiopulmonary resuscitation. She’s not kissing our dad.”

“Coulda fooled me…”

A rough, haggard wheeze escaped from underneath Vanilla’s curly mane and the mare sprung away with fright. Crux coughed wetly, taking a few more rasping breaths.

“Whoa, it...w-worked?!”

“It worked!” Olive crowed, crushing the air out of the unfortunate pegasus with her vice-like hooves.

Vanilla sighed, fanning herself with a hoof. “Oh thank goodness.” 

“G-girls…”

“Dad!” “Mr.Crux!”

“G-girls...you need to...to hide now.”

“Lord Crux, relax. You’ve had several near death experiences in the last few minutes. Your body can’t handle much strain.” Vanilla hovered over Crux as he struggled upright, clumps of burnt mane and clothing falling to the ground in a screen of fine ash.

“Hide now...all of you. Run to the palace. Take shelter there. Don’t come out.”

“We intended to take shelter just as soon as you were well enough to move. It’s a miracle your body wasn’t destroyed in that explosion.”

“I can...cannot go with you just yet. We...we must retrieve it.”

“We must retrieve what?”

“We...We must take back what is Ours.”