> One Horn Too Many
>  by WiseFireCracker
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Deux Étrangers Cornus
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“T-that’s it! We’re out!” A clear male voice rang near the borders of the Everfree Forest. “Edward, we did it! We’re out of the woods! I was so sure we would get chased off by a timberwolf!”

“We got lucky, my friend, let’s just hope we won’t ever have to mess with those blasted tree humpers,” another stallion quipped, his voice tainted by a strong refined accent.

“Yeah… lucky...” a maroon stallion muttered, leaving the cover of the twisted trees for the open fields. “Right...” 

The tip of his hooves flattened softly against the dirt path, almost as if squished by his own weight. It felt comfortable, natural even, and it scared him the most.

“I-I… I still can’t believe that happened,” he murmured, twisting his neck to take a look at his body.

Twitches shook his eyes, as his pupils shrunk to tiny dots. His breath grew shallow, turned into minuscule gulps of air, too little, too sparsely, as the realization hit again, as the truth made itself cruelly undeniable. 

He was not human. Edward wasn’t human.

They were ponies. Stallions. Animals. Fucking animals.

They had hooves instead of hands and feet, a muzzle where their mouth used to be, eyes so huge they felt like they could see in wide screen. They were unable to stand upright, too unsteady on their hooves - no, feet, FEET! -, but even if they had had the necessary agility, they would have eventually fallen back. Ponies were quadrupeds, were they not? That’s what they were now, PONIES! HOOVES, MUZZLES, GIANT EYES, TAILS!

And horns. Plural. They had horns, curled backward, unlike that of any unicorn they had ever seen, not even from King Sombra. Twin grey horns just like those of goats span from the top of their heads, their tips coming just short of their manes. W-what were they? He didn’t know… there never had been a pony like that on the show. Their only theory so far was that they were freaky mutated unicorns. 

A reassuring thought if there ever were some.

How would the others even react? M-maybe it would add to the credibility of their stories. Maybe being so bizarre would help convince someone that they were not from that world. Or it’d send them to a research facility and a nice asylum. The thought made his mouth go dry, it racked his nerves. He felt he’d just lose it, lose control of his mind and his body. 

As if obeying a twisted order, his tail swished wildy, hitting his grey companion on the flank. 

Turning about, the darker stallion delivered a swift slap to his distraught partner. “I don’t want to drag a useless idiot behind me. This is going to be hard enough on the both of us.”

Massaging the painful spot, said partner gave a begrudging message of bitter gratitude. “Thanks, you limey.”

“Frogger,” Edward muttered in retaliation. “We need to look on the bright side, with any luck, Twilight or the princesses can just magic us back, willy nilly and that will be that.”

“Y-you think? But how would they even know where to send us? We’re bronies, from an entirely different universe!”

“They could use the magic residue or what not, or maybe they can track the statue, or something of the like.”

“Or they already know about humans! There was that Equestria Girl movie...” His voice trailed off, wondering if it would impact their chances of going back home.

“Now let’s not mix that trash with canon my friend.” Edward gagged, waving a hoof in front of his face in disgust.

Taking note, Pierre cringed, stuttering. “I-I mean, the first generation! Megan!”

“See, looking on the bright side is much better than going all bonkers, wouldn’t you agree?” Ed assured, tapping Pierre’s head pointedly for emphasis.  

His friend’s mouth twisted with annoyance, pushing him away and muttering a few words of no flattering quality. Edward only managed to catch a single one of them. “Enfoiré...” 

“Twat...” 

“D-do we have ANY plan at all?” Pierre spoke up suddenly, stopping in place and turning to face his companion, a look of panic on his face. “Are we just going to waltz up in there and say ‘Twilight Sparkle, please don’t think we’re creepy, but we’re aliens from another world and we look at you sleep and have adventures, so it’d be really nice if you could throw us through the dimensions so we could get back to that.’?”

“Well, when you say it like that, of course she’ll think we’re insane. You need to be a lot more subtle! I mean, in the name of the queen, grow a spine, frenchie,” Edward retorted dryly, waving a hoof at his nearly panicked comrade.  

“Oh? And exactly how do you plan on being subtle while telling her we’re not, despite appearance, ponies?”

“We’re obviously not normal ponies, now are we? This could vastly help our defense, Pierre.” The grey stallion bit back, a smug smile crossing his features.

“No, we’re not,” he whispered, sounding miserable.

With nothing else to say, Pierre followed his ‘dear’ friend inside the borders of the quaint rural town they had been looking for. Their luck had at least insured they would be close to the place of residence of Equestria’s national heroes.

The problem was… they had no idea where the library was in Ponyville. They would search, they decided. A simple plan that presented little opportunity for complications, or at least it was their hope. If worst came to come, asking for some directions would cost them too little in comparison to the gains they wished for. 

Trotting in a slow pattern, both to give the impression that everything was perfectly normal and to compensate for any coordination problem they retained with their four legs, the two stallions made their way in the first streets. Glancing around with the hope of locating a carved tree, they observed the population going on about their business as it did every other day. At first.

Their progression did not go unnoticed for long. 

It started with a whisper, a single exclamation, from one mare to another. Daisy spoke to Rose, and the latter turned around instantly, eyes wide. She, of as little constitution as she had ever shown, fainted on the spot. Then, on the other side of the street, a passing stallion noticed them, his surprised stop gathering the attention of his date. It took no little more than that for the words to travel, jumping from head to head. Each pony notified stopped at least for a moment to glance, to verify the veracity of the vehement rumor growing.

Soon, it became impossible not to notice the attention given to them, as equally difficult for them to ignore it and go on their way.

“Why is everyone looking at us like that?”

Following the general gaze of the crowd, the grey stallion grimaced. “It’s likely due to our twin goat horns, or at least that’s what I’d assume.”

“Great… so we are mutants...” Pierre looked down, not noticing how his ears flattened as a mimicry of his expression. “Besides also being humans, I mean.”

“Well now, we haven't even seen Twilight yet, who’s to say we can’t remedy this yet?” Edward reminded him, a hint of sympathy lining his normally confident voice.

“Well… no one, yet.” 

“Well damn, Pierre, if you keep talking like that, you’re sure to jinx us.” 

“Please, you said out loud that you didn’t want to meet any timberwolf. I’m the one tempting Fate?”

“We haven't seen hide nor hair of a timberwolf, now have we?”

Immediately, the maroon stallion dropped down, putting his hooves over his ears. “Lalala, can’t hear you. If I can’t hear it, I’m not jinxed!”

“Oh, how mature, you nobhead,” Ed huffed dryly, pushing his friend on the shoulder firmly.

At the contact, Pierre’s hooves moved away from his ears, a smug grin on his lips. Behind his infuriating smile, Edward could see that he considered it a victory for him. With a grimace, the brit roughly lifted him to a standing position and forced him forward.  

“Come on, come on, we have places to be.”

“Yeah, okay. Let’s try to find the library, for real,” he agreed, a shiver running down his spine as he ran a hoof against his left front leg.

“Oh, so up till now our search was fake?” the sarcastic limey pondered. “Oh, and why exactly are you shivering like a soaked child?”

“I just hate the feeling of touch with a hoof. D-does it not freak you out?”

“Not particularly, why would it?” 

Pierre glared, scowling darkly at him. A shout of indignation built up in his throat, but he forced himself to push it down. They didn’t need unwanted attention at the moment… Not more than they already had.

Falling into an awkward silence, they continue to trudge on, making their way slowly but surely through the rural town. Eventually managing to find the large tree that housed Ponyville’s fabled library, they paused, taking in the sight. There was no denying it was impressive, doubly so by how much it matched their own memories of it. The tree loomed over them, giving them the impression of being almost insignificant. As if it knew…

“Ah, huh… after you, Ed,” Pierre finally managed to articulate.

“No, please, frenchmen first and all that.” Edward motioned toward the door.

As he opened his mouth to reply, unkind words no doubt well-prepared, another voice cut him off completely.

“Excuse me, sirs.”

They both turned at the sound of the deep voice, Pierre in particular losing his voice when his eyes fell on a royal guard. “W-what?”

“Twat!” Edward punched his shoulder - or did the closest approximation of the gesture he could manage with hooves - before clearing his throat. “Is anything the matter, officer?”

“We didn’t do anything wrong!” Pierre blurted out, earning a glare and a curious look from the two other stallions.

“I certainly hope so,” the guard said goodnaturedly. “No, I simply saw the two of you trotting on your own in the streets and I was wondering...”

They leaned forward imperceptibly, curious in spite of themselves. Ears flickering, their attention was completely on the stallion before them.

The question was not what they expected.

“Did you two lose your bodyguards?”

Edward's eyebrows lowered into a frown. “Excuse me, have we lost our what now?”

What kind of question is that? What do we look like? We’ve just spent a whole day walking non stop through some of the most dangerous woods on this entire planet.

“Our bodyguards?” Pierre repeated, eyes shining with confusion.

“You know, it’s not right for two bicorns to be on their own like that.” He sounded mildly chastising, eyes narrowed with disapproval, though strangely not aimed at them. “Anything could have happened.”

“Well, excuse me, officer, but it’s really none of your business what we do on our own time, now is it?” the british stallion mused. 

“Oh, yes, of course.” The guard put a hoof in front of himself, seemingly sheepish. “I was just trying to do my job, you know?” 

Nodding, they pretended to be understanding, at least. 

But, as they tried to walk inside the tree, the guard made a motion to follow them. “You two don’t mind if I follow you inside, right? I’d rest easier if I knew nothing happened to you until you can find your bodyguards again.”

At that, Edward seemed just about ready to make an asinine comment, but a quickly placed hoof on his shoulder from Pierre defused him, for the moment. It did not, however, stop him from glaring daggers into the obnoxious officer’s head. 

Reluctantly, glancing at the imposing stallion that insisted on being around, Pierre entered the library, almost tripping on the first steps. Albeit muffled, the gasp that then came from the guard rang very clearly to their ears. 

Something was not right. 

“I’m getting a very strange vibe off this place, what say you, Pierre?”

“It’s not the place that worries me...” he whispered, eyes darting back to the guard. 

“I wonder where the magic bearing princess is?” Ed said as he stepped into the center of the main room.

“Hum… helloooo?” they called, looking around in the hopes of locating the one they were searching for. 

For a moment, silence answered them. They could not see anyone wandering through the alleys, peering for books, no one. No dust rested on the shelves, but otherwise, one wouldn’t be so foolish to believe the library was deserted. 

They stepped further in, hearts in their throat with the thought that maybe, it wasn’t the right place, that there would be no solution to their problem. But, joy suddenly started pumping through their veins, as they heard a feminine voice they both recognized. “I’m coming!” 

Entering the room was a lavender mare, unique amongst so many due to the combination of her wings and horn, who they hope would be their savior: Twilight Sparkle.

> Off the Map
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The night passed by slowly for once. No rush of studies, no big planned events with his classmates, just him, himself, and his computer. It was all a love story for the ages. And currently, they were entering the routine phase of their relationship. The boring one. So he waited dispassionately for his machine to start being entertaining, slumped in his armchair with a bottle of cola next to him. 

Pierre’s eyes darted toward his watch, a long sigh escaping his lips. His screen currently displayed an empty chat box, and beneath that, the link to his favorite pony song. However, as he moved his cursor toward that very same link, a completely different noise surprised him.

A newcomer to the chat.  

“Oh, hey, another living being!” he quickly typed. “Nice to meet you, brony.” 

Seconds later, a line appeared in reply. 

“Salutations to you as well, dear boy. How might you be this fair day?” the new arrival responded.   

Fingers hovering over his keyboard, Pierre grinned. He certainly could use a friendly conversation. Who knew? Maybe it was the start of something. “I’m doing well. It’s always fun to meet new bronies, you know? What about you?”

“As good as any other, just another englishman surviving as any other.”  

For a second, he hesitated. A wicked idea had crossed his mind, but this would literally be the third thing he’d ever told that person. Then again, he was rather bored. 

He let loose. 

“What?! You’re one of the enemy?! How can this be?! You should be all proper and ‘rubbish’ and ‘I like to drink tea’! Not like something cool like MLP.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I was talking to a petty, self absorbed, American.” 

“Oh no, you didn’t! I’ll have you know that I’m not one of your country’s hellish spawn!”

“Spawn, you say? If not a pawn, then what might you be, child?”

“Ah, et je me dévoile dans toute ma grandeur! Moi, le Français!”

The reaction Pierre received was less amusing than he had imagined.

“Oh, hahaahahha, you’re right. You're not a spawn, you’re less than that; you’re French. Hahahaha!”

Oh. It was ON!

“Fuck you, limey.”

“I’m sure you’d like that, Frog Licker.”

Ten uneven digits started raining hits on his beloved laptop’s keyboard, every letter serving to pump his blood harder, hardening his traits into an expression of tranquil fury.

“At least, frogs are edible. You boil leaves and hope not to poison yourself!”

“You had to weaponize your taxis, just to lose the war anyway.”

He muffled a scream by biting into his hands. Oh, they were going to play that game? He could play that game too.

“You had to cry for your kids to bail you out!”

But his opponent was either a sly stuffy human british guy or a demon in disguise, for he completely ignored the attack and countered on another field. 

“Says the guy who relies on Great Britain to save you from every force to ever approach your borders.”

“Says the guy whose monarchy was invaded by the French for the better part of the Middle Ages.”

“Well, look at your revolution: you kicked out the king, just to return to a monarchy only a few years later.”

Okay! Okay, okay... he had to swallow down on his venom before it killed him. The vitriol in his veins was probably doing a number on his stomach. 

Downing the rest of his cola, he felt the liquid clench his thirst and his anger simultaneously. Alright, he was ready to go back at it.

“Yeah, and after we kicked the king AGAIN, we conquered the rest of Europe under Napoleon.”

“Then you forgot to pack winter clothes and lost to Russia, and they never had to fire a weapon.”

“Dude, Russia. Their winters kill snow. It doesn’t count.”

“Yeah, maybe that is an unfair debate. No one has ever conquered them...period.”

Pausing, his eyes read the line again and he suddenly felt very silly for going on an argument for something as stupid as a joke. Slowly, he started typing again.

“...Okay, so… what were we talking about before all that?”

“Ponies…?”

He felt lucky his blush couldn’t be seen.

“Probably, yes. Then again, do I know if you’re good enough to be a brony?”

“Let me guess, Fleur De Lis is your favorite?”

Pierre fought not to roll his eyes. 

“Ah, no way. But best background pony. No, I bet you don’t even know who is best pony!”

“Best? That’s as obvious as the unbreakable bread you have on your kitchen table. It’s none other than the royal sisters, my dear frenchie.”

A chuckle escaped his lips.

“You would root for monarchs, wouldn’t you?” He typed, hoping the deadpan showed as strongly on his screen than it did on his face.

“The sisters are the most well developed characters in the show, and it’s not even about them.”

“No, the answer is as obvious as the recipe you will never be able to complete for the life of you. Twilight, obviously!”

“Twilight, please, she would be nothing without Celestia.”

“Who is bailing who out of trouble?”

“Spike, obviously.”

“Oh screw you...”

“Get in line, lad.”

And, just like that, the hours passed to the sound of their silent bickering. 


--


In all honesty, they hadn’t been certain as to what they should have expected. Curiosity? Polite greetings? Mild scientific interest toward their horns? 

Indeed, it might have been any of those paths, but the one that unfolded before them was not the one they anticipated. 

“Oh my gosh!” Twilight exclaimed. “You two are bicorns! That is so great! I’ve never even had the chance to meet one before, and I lived in Canterlot!”

Uneasy with such enthusiasm, Pierre poked Edward’s ribs, motioning for him to take the lead.

Rolling his eyes, Edward stepped forward. “I’m afraid you may be mistaking us for someone else, Princess Twilight.” He coughed into his hoof, in a fit of nervousness.

Nonplussed, the mare’s eyes very obviously went to the pair of goat horns they both had on their heads. For a second, a light of uncertainty appeared in her features, one hoof lifted in an almost interrogating motion, but she shook her head. “I’m not mistaken. You two are bicorns, right?”

“Hum… probably?” Pierre smiled shily, ears flat on the side of his head. 

“I’m not at liberty to say.” Ed huffed, still seeming rather tense.

Now, both princess and guard exchanged puzzled looks. A fact that should have been a non-question was somehow being turned into a pointless bout of questioning. Was that their idea of a joke? 

“You know, if you wanted to hide it, a hat would have been a good idea.” Twilight flicked a small bolt of magic at their manes. “Those are clearly bicorn horns on your heads.”

“You mean goat horns, right?” Ed pointed out, tapping one of his horns as he did so.

Patiently, she shook her head and spoke again, this time with the tone of a teacher or a parent, “When they’re on a pony’s head, the classification changes. Sure, the attributes are incredibly similar, but they channel magic too.”

“So, what you are saying, lass, is we’re magical goat ponies?”

“You sound like you were unaware of it before.” The princess tilted her head, keeping her tone light.   

And all of a sudden, Pierre’s eyes widened with the realization, before Edward had even opened his mouth to speak. His guts turned to ice, as if he was witnessing himself trot right into a trap. Unfortunately for him, he was too slow to stop the next words to ring in the library. 

“Mostly because we were.”

“You call that subtle?!” The maroon bicorn reared, face contorted by disbelief. 

“More subtle than your idea,” the other one stated flatly.

“I was sarcastic back then!”

“No, that’s my job,” the brit scoffed, staring at his companion, and silently daring him to say he was wrong.

Twilight stepped in between the two bickering stallions, gaining their attention. “I hate to interrupt your argument, but could you both please show me your papers?”

“Papers, what papers?” Edward mused, not really too interested in conjecture.

“We lost them!” Pierre blurted out, obviously the first thing to come to his mind.

So obviously, in fact, that a strong pair of hooves grabbed both of their midsections and slammed them against an orange armored pony. 

“Whoa!”

“What the hell?”

Stars danced in front of their eyes.   

Without waiting for them to recover their senses, Twilight walked in front of the prone duo. A frown now radiant on her face, but not nearly as radiant as her horn which glowed in a bright purple hue, she stood over her two suspects. Leaning closer, her authority only became a true force of obedience when her stern gaze met those of the now trembling stallions. 

“Are you two really bicorns?” she asked after a short pause.

“That’s a grand question, if I've ever heard one, though I’m not really sure how to go about answering it.”

Next to Edward, Pierre was starting to get agitated. “Can you tea sucker be serious for even one moment?!” 

Though understandable, his reaction was in itself a mistake, as it only made their captor’s frown deepen. 

Twilight turned to him, a small muscle twitching on the right corner of her face. “Do you have anything against tea, mister?” 

“I want to know that, as well actually,” Edward added.  

“They’re acting mighty suspicious, princess.” The officer’s deep voice cut through the air and the out-of-topic interruption. “You think they’re fakes?”

“Only one way to find out,” Twilight said, ignoring the insult superbly and forcing her subordinate to do the same. “Officer…?”

“Bronze Chainmail, your Highness.” 

“Right, officer Chainmail.” She nodded, looking back to the entrance she had used previously, her mind on her private apartments. “Please, bring them to the station while I prepare my spells.”

“Well, this sounds like a blast, wouldn’t you agree, Pierre?”

“The first chance I get,” he whispered darkly, squirming in the hold of the guard. “I’m ramming my horns up your stuffy british ass.”

“Oh, someone’s getting excited.” The cynical bicorn bit back, a smirk prominent on his lip.

Nopony bothered to dignify that quip with an answer. 


--


It was exactly as they’d imagined. Dark, dampy, uncomfortable, with a magical light bulb aimed at their faces. Well, not quite. To the ponies’ credit, the room they were holding this standard interrogation appeared very clean. Not a speck of dust, simply polished stone as far as the eye could see. Considering they were half-blinded by the light, that was not saying much.

Just a meter away from them, his face now framed in shadows, Officer Chainmail spoke to them with a rougher voice.

“What are your full names?” the guard asked, his eyes wandering between his two charges.  

“Edward Finch.”

“Pierre Delarue.”

“Never heard anything like that before. Strange, huh?” They could make out a fake grin on his face. “And where are you two from?”

“Well, I’m from Winchester,” Edward mumbled tiredly. 

“Marseille,” Pierre whispered, not bothering with anything else. Instead, he slowly let himself slide into his seat, resting his chin on his hooves. Rapid blinks seemed to try to stop any tear from spilling out.

“Likely story,” their interrogator went on, deciding to pay more attention to the tougher prisoner. “That’s not even on the world map, you know.”  

“Yeah well, maybe not your world,” Ed countered nonchalantly. 

“Then what world would it be, if not this one?” Chainmail leaned forward, his hoof conspicuously pointing to a deserted wasteland. “Are we talking Badlands, for example?”

“Wouldn’t the Badlands be counted amongst a map of the whole world? So obviously not,” his snarkier target chided, poking the map methodically to make the point limpid.

“You tell me, pal.”

“I just did.” Edward groaned, massaging a temple with his hoof.

“You really need to learn to shut your mouth, you know that?” the guard warned as he leaned forward, until their faces were mere inches from each other.

The stance was doubtlessly meant to be intimidating, but Chainmail quickly felt a hoof push him backward.

Edward rolled his eyes, even faking a gag as he settled back into his seat. His tone turned snide. “You really need to learn how to properly interrogate someone, and perhaps find yourself a breath mint or two.”

On the next seat, a long suffering groan rose from Pierre’s form, his head firmly against the hard table and his horns sticking up in the air. Straining their ears, the two could make out a whisper, unclear and not from a language either of the two spoke. 

“W-will he be alright?” Chainmail suddenly broke character, his voice tainted with concern.

“Don’t worry, he just suffers from a wicked case of frenchitis.”

“Va te faire foutre.”

“See, he’s fine.” Edward waved dismissively at his depressed friend. 

“Hum… alright.” The guard fought to get back into his character. “So, let’s return to this thing about you two coming from the Badlands.”

“I never said that, or for that matter implied it.”

“That’s not what your earlier confession implied.”

“I said your map would also include the Badlands, I clearly stated we aren’t from your map, ergo, not from the Badlands either,” the stallion said, confidently crossing his forelegs in victory and leaving his opponent in this battle of wits fuming for a retort.

Groaning again, Pierre rose from his position on the table, leaning into the back of his chair. “This is stupid...” 

“Yeah, I agree. So, how are you holding up then, mate?” The englishmen huffed. 

“Well, I finally got to live my secret dream of being a pony in an Equestrian prison.” 

“That’s not a dream I hear often,” quipped a certain purple pony princess.

All three stallions turned, startled by the door opening quickly within a strong magical aura. As regal as she ever had been, Twilight Sparkle entered in full regalia, carrying a few scrolls under her wing. Albeit serious, not a hint of nervousness could be seen on her face. Clearly, even if those two stallions proved themselves to be changelings, she had prepared herself adequately. 

A loud gulp came from Pierre’s direction. 

“Now then, everything is ready. We can test your claims of being real bicorns.” She dropped a large scroll on the table, looking toward the guard. “Anything came up, Officer?”

“If you ask me princess, that guard there has a higher chance of being a changeling, with how obsessed he seems with the Badlands,” Edward said and snickered, his eyes dancing with dark mischief.                                  

Red in the face, Bronze Chainmail slammed a hoof into the table, shaking with anger. 

“Officer!” Twilight’s voice snapped like a whip.

Instantly, he recoiled, catching himself and lowering his gaze in sudden shame. “M-my apologies, Princess.”   

“Now, let’s get to the real knot of this problem. Don’t worry, this spell only affects changelings.”

Scared, Edward and Pierre shielded their eyes from the strong influx of light flooding the room. 

When the light faded, both stallions felt as if they were bathed in liquid fire. The heat however only lasted for a few seconds before fizzling out, leaving them completely unscathed.

The stallion duo taking a look first at themselves then each other merely turned back to their host, waiting for further instructions.

Their own lack of surprise came as a great contrast to the widened eyes of both Bronze Chainmail and Twilight Sparkle. Jaws dropped, the two had an uncanny similarity to gobsmacked fish at the moment it dawned on them that they truly had been holding two bicorns captive.

“Well lookie here, we weren’t changelings after all, and after I put fifty bits down on us being fakes too,” the grey stallion gasped between bouts of laughter.

“I’ll hold you to that bet, Ed.”

Finally calming, Edward turned back to the princess and her guard. “What now? We passed the test, did we not?”

“Y-yes, you did. And it was wrong of us not to believe you, my apologies.” Twilight lowered her head, horribly embarrassed for making all this fuss over nothing. “But why did you make yourself sound so suspicious in the first place?”

“Sorry, Princess, he likes to push his luck.” Pierre glared at the still chuckling grey bicorn on his chair.

“Ah, well, if there’s anypony that can...”

“N-now that we’ve established that we are not changelings, can we please talk about how we’re really not from this world? We need your help getting back!”

“Oh” Twilight blinked, glancing curiously between the two bicorns. “Well, it would help if you told me the whole story. Another world? And why do you think I can help you get back?”

“Or at the very least, finding a good place for a spot of tea, I’m famished.” Edward nodded happily. 

“There is a great café on third street, princess,” Chainmail added helpfully.

“Perfect. Officer Chainmail, please escort our two friends around Ponyville while I look into their problem.”

“W-what? N-no, we don’t care about tea...” Pierre stuttered, looking around desperately for some support.

“Excellent, I really need a good meal after today’s fiascos.” Completely ignoring his peer, Ed stood and followed after the guard.

A magical aura grabbing his front legs, Pierre was unceremoniously dragged after them. 

“Have fun!” Twilight said.

“W-wait! No, we’re not ki-” The door slammed, cutting off the rest of his panicked plea.

The studious princess waved, waiting for the sound the the front door closing, before turning and letting forth a deep sigh.


--


“From another world?” A juvenile boyish voice echoed her previous explanation.

“Well, that is what they say, but I’m inclined to believe they simply didn’t want to revisit their past,” Twilight continued, elaborating into her full theory, about her latest misadventure. 

For a moment, Spike remained silent, watching her go around the library. She seemed to be trying to find a few books she knew by heart anyway. Still, while she was searching, dragon claws fiddled with each others and an emerald gaze went from them to the purple alicorn.

“W-what if they’re serious?” Spike countered, his childlike view on the unbelievable in full display. “I mean, we’ve seen some pretty crazy stuff on all our adventures, Twi.”

Her retort came quickly, with no hint of hesitation. 

“Interdimensional travel is one of the branches of magic Starswirl himself theorized as impossible. It would required magical power on par with the princesses. And those two don’t have nearly as much magic as I do, Spike,” she said without pausing her quest for books. 

Where was her copy of the bicorn treaty?

“But why would they hide their past?” he insisted. “What could they wish to hide with such a weird story?”

“Perhaps a traumatic event, Spike. Some bicorns have the bad luck of being sought after by truly disgusting beings… I simply hope this wasn’t the case with those two.”

“Twi, why would they use an alternate world to hide that? They could have said anything else. That doesn’t really add up,” her ever faithful assistant argued, folding his arms stubbornly.

For once, she paused, pursing her lips together. Her eyebrows lowered in synch, and her tone grew quieter, gentler. 

“I think they were trying to cut ties with somepony. To separate themselves from a part of their past.”

Now, apprehension appeared in the little dragon’s gaze. “Like who?”

“I don’t know, but it must have been pretty bad…” Her breath hitched up suddenly, as she was struck by a terrible notion. “Oh, if I added to their trauma by having them interrogated...” 

“Twi, calm down,” Spike moved in to comfort her. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.” 

“Yes, you’re right. We have two male bicorns in town.” She closed her eyes, remembering Cadence’s relaxant technique. “This is not the time to sit idly by, we need to do something to help them.”  

“How?”

“I’m hoping Princess Celestia will allow me to take care of their affairs for them for the time being.”

Without a word, Spike quickly rushed to obtain his all too familiar quill and parchment. “Ready and waiting Twilight.”

“Excellent, my dear number one assistant. Now, firstly…” She cleared her throat, taking on a more appropriate tone for her dictation.   

Dear Princess Celestia,   
Today, I met two peculiar stallions...                         


--


“Your drinks, sirs,” came the voice of the waitress as she placed two cups on the marble table between them. 

Whispering a few grateful words to her, they then gave hesitant looks to the two items sitting right in front of them. Here, out there in the midday sun, with rays piercing through the clouds to hit and reflect on each white surface, with a breeze that brushed against their fur, the surreal of their situation hit them again. Something they had never wished for, that they might have imagined and refused, was now their lot to bear. 

And they were sitting in a café to drink tea in Ponyville.

Pierre wanted to scream.

Edward simply listened to his taste buds and his stomach, quickly diving into his fresh cup of tea.

Both turned to Bronze Chainmail, standing next to their table with the emotional display of a rock.

“Seriously,” Pierre sighed, annoyance crawling in his tone. “Can’t you let us speak in private at all?”

Shifting in his armor, clinks of metal ringing in response, he seemed to ponder the request. Under the insistent gaze of both bicorn stallions however, the guard finally relented.

“Enfin! Okay, what was that all about?” the French pony whispered as soon as Chainmail had stepped away. “Maybe we were a little suspicious, what’s with you acting crazy and all, but why the escort around town? Why did they look like they slapped Celestia in the face when they realized we apparently aren’t changelings?” 

“Not sure.” Ed shrugged, reaching for his fresh cup of green tea again. “Maybe we’re some near alicorn level species or something?”

“I want to say ‘no fucking way’, but...” He glanced back at the guard, who kept dutifully watching them. “Ever heard of a bicorn before?”

“Nope, not even once.” Ed sighed, following Pierre’s gaze.

The maroon bicorn squirmed in his seat, tapping the edge of their table with a hoof. His traits betrayed a certain confusion. “We were the first Twilight ever met. Twilight Sparkle, student of Celestia, never met this kind of pony before?”

“It makes you wonder, doesn’t it? We might be a race of super ancient ponies, maybe even a hybrid of a pony and a goat.” Edward chuckled warily.    

“I dunno, but, honestly, I’m… more worried about how little she reacted to us saying we weren’t from this world.” A twitch went through one of his front leg, as if he had felt the impulse to hug himself but refrained. “I mean, we wouldn’t have to worry about that if she sends us back quickly, right?” 

“They've dealt with stranger things than the likes of us, I’m sure she’s merely desensitized to it by now,” the englishcolt reminded him calmly, taking several short sips from his cup of tea, never once opening his eyes while doing so.

“Okay… you might have a point.” 

“Might nothing, my friend, we may be strangers in a strange land, but we are also cult followers of these crazy pastel ponies, and since when do they let down those in need?

“...They don’t.” Pierre breathed a sigh of relief, the words finally sinking in. “You’re right. I’m just a little worried, is all.”

“Worrying is fine, it’s even a sign you’re still sane, but don’t let it cloud your judgment. We might as well enjoy the time we are here.”

“She ordered him to show us Ponyville, didn’t she?” he asked, a genuine smile appearing on his face for the first time since leaving the library.

“To my knowledge, yes, yes she did.” Edward finished his tea, gently replacing his cup upon it’s saucer. 

“Say…” Pierre suddenly spoke, staring intensely at the porcelain cup. “How did you manage to hold it?”

“I’m sorry?” 

“The cup…” He pointed slowly. “You were holding it, with your hooves.”

“I’m not sure. I suppose it is just a british instinct. After all, what is a brit, if not a lover of high quality beverages, made from the leaves of the finest plants?”

Pierre’s upper body was shaken by a fake gagging motion. “I didn’t think it was possible for you to be more limey than you already were.”

“I take pride in my heritage. Now come, let’s explore this delightful little town.” Edward nodded, standing from his seat and walking away with purpose.

Showing more enthusiasm than he did before, his friend followed him, taking note of their chaperone quickly reacting as well. Still unsteady in their steps, they somehow managed to trot between the tables without any incident bigger than a few bumps. As was expected, any pony inconvenienced this way seemed quick to wave it off, some of them even asking about the two bicorns’ well-being in return.  

LIkewise, Bronze Chainmail caught up to them with no problem whatsoever and started guiding them toward the Town’s Plaza. On the way there, Pierre and Edward noticed a similar level of attention paid to them, but somehow, none of the looks they received betrayed more than polite curiosity. 

The difference, the only one they could think of, being the presence of a guard accompanying them; that realization made them distinctly uncomfortable. And, as their progression showed, the part of town didn’t influence the townsfolks’ attitude.

By the time they had reached the Plaza, Pierre’s enthusiasm had dimmed considerably.

“Excuse me?”

“Huh?” He turned around, looking for the owner of the voice.

A poke in his sides, then a hoof pointed to the ground from Edward answered his inquiry. A young colt, his fur white with brown patches, had stopped a few steps away from them.

“Greetings, child,” the brit spoke softly. “Can we help you?” 

“My friends and I saw you from over there and we wanted to know why you have two horns? Are you super unicorns?”

“Well, umm...that’s a bit of a hard question, little one. I’m afraid I can’t answer that, though I can assure you we aren't super unicorns.”

“Huh? Why not?”

“Well, we woke up that way this morning.”

“That can happen?”

Scowling, Pierre kicked a pebble bitterly. “Apparently.”

Edward ignored him, preferring to focus on the colt than his irritable French friend.

“Aliens tend to do weird things like that.”

“Traveling through space and time. Inventing new methods to be disappointed. Drinking tea,” Pierre listed teasingly, a spark lighting up in his eyes. “The really out there stuff.”

“You know, cause us aliens created Doctor Who, so obviously we disappoint the millions of others that love our shows?”

“Like a single awesome show that contradictorily was born in the wrong country is enough of an accomplishment. ”

“Sherlock!”

“They’re not that good of mysteries.”

“The TV show!”

A maroon hoof was waved dismissively. “My point, really.”

At that, Edward's gaze turned into a glare, and his determination to show up his friend was renewed. “William Shakespeare!”

Pierre rolled his eyes, almost amused now. “Oh please, Molière, Racine, Corneille, Baudelaire.”

“Warehouse 13! The Beatles! Top Gear! ”

“Hey kid, you ever heard of the Beatles before?”

Having followed the volleying exchange with wide eyes, the colt blinked at being so suddenly talked to, and his reply came out rather timidly. “The bug?”

“It’s all alien talk, sorry,” Pierre said sheepishly, realizing he’d let his rivalry get the better of him.

“Sorry kid, but these two aliens have work to do, so shoo, go play.” Edward ushered the kid away, as their guard approached a happy smile on his face.

“Looks like you’re good with foals. That’s always a good trait to have, if you know what I mean.” Chainmail chuckled, watching as the young colt ran to join his awaiting friends and regale them of the tales he’d heard.

“Yeah, I suppose that’ll be useful eventually.“ Pierre nodded, scratching the back of his head sheepishly.  

“Hey wanka, have you ever had a ct scan? You need one, mate.”

“Hum… no. I don’t have a cat.”

To Chainmail’s puzzlement, his second charge snorted loudly just as he finished answering. Was there something funny about him not owning a cat? 

“That explains a lot,” Ed deadpanned, shaking his head in disappointment. Giving up on the clueless guard, the cynical stallion took a quick gander amongst the shops and businesses that they currently stood amongst. In this endeavor, he couldn’t help but take an interest in one that might yet quench his thirst for knowledge. “Do I spy a bookshop across the street?”

“Looks like one to me,” Pierre said, stretching his neck higher. “The name hanging over the shop is ‘Thousand Pages’ Bookshop’.”

“Do you two want to take a look?” Chainmail motioned toward the small shop.

“It couldn’t hurt.” Edward sighed, starting toward it at a casual pace.  

With that simple agreement, the decision was made and they started heading in the direction of the store. The foals near the fountain followed their progression avidly, but dared not talk more. A question was present behind their eyes however, about the extraterrestrial nature of the two-horned stallions. Their hesitation cost them their chance, as the three ponies quickly reached the store. 

Edward stepped inside first, taking the lead to the one activity he was clearly the most interested in. With a deep breath, he took in the ambiance scent of ink and scrolls, all too familiar to him. For a second, he felt himself assaulted by a painful nostalgia, but forced it down, buried it deep underneath the surface. One of them needed to stay in control. 

The store was tiny, ‘cozy’ if one decided to be charitable. All four shelves filled the little space there was uncomfortably. Still, there was a decent enough selection here, or so they felt. With expert eyes, the grey stallion spotted an interesting section in the store and made his way over there. After very little time browsing, he had chosen a red covered manual strangely reminiscent of an encyclopedia.

When Pierre’s eyes fell on the book his companion was holding, he almost froze. Behind them, he could feel the breath of the guard STILL trailing them. Thinking fast, he sent his hooves into the closest shelf, miraculously picking up a book to browse himself. In the corner of his eye, he noticed their chaperone diverting their attention to him rather than Edward.

Slipping into a role, Pierre looked down at the book he had taken, and grinned when he read the title: ‘100 facts about Equestria’.

“Ah, I’ve always wanted to find something like that,” he said loudly, earning an indulgent smile from Bronze Chainmail.

Perusing, Pierre grabbed the leg of the guard and asked him for confirmation about one extravagant fact he couldn’t believe about the princesses. Edward’s reading was thus rapidly forgotten from Bronze Chainmail’s mind. As fast as he dared, he turned the pages, hoping that his skimming would provide at least some measure of knowledge about their current situation. 

Unfortunately, the ruse could not hold much longer, for the store’s clerk came around to check up on them, and asked that they buy the books if they intended to read them in their entirety. The guard confessed that he would have done so, if he had thought about bringing his bits with him, but currently couldn’t. By pure luck, neither ponies noticed how Pierre’s eyebrows had disappeared under his mane with undiluted shock. He was still reeling when they gently shook Edward out of his reading.

“Can I help you, I am quite busy at the moment?” the indulging stallion huffed impatiently, barely looking up from the text he read with such veracity.

“I noticed, sir.” The salespony grimaced, although his expression wasn’t showing strong disapproval. “I do apologize, but the store policies are precise. If you are not buying this book, I must ask you to stop reading.”

“Fucking twat,” Edward growled, stepping away from the book. 

Haughtily, he walked toward the exit without another word to the now confused and annoyed clerk. Picking up the volume Edward hadn’t had the courtesy to put back in its place, said salespony started muttering curses under his breath. Out of a sense of duty, Chainmail started giving a short explanation of the situation.

With their guardian ‘angel’ occupied, Pierre used that opportunity to run after his friend. Albeit unsteady in his progression, he managed to catch up to him before he had left the street. “So, what did you find?”  

“In the short time I had, I managed only a small sum of information. Though the tome: The Fourth Breed was quite helpful all the same.” Collecting his mental notes, Edward began reciting a brief overview of what he’d gathered in his readings, “Of the four non alicorn pony species, bicorns are the least numerous. They have an innate magic that subtly causes an unnatural amount of good fortune to befall them. This same ability also translates into an innate sense to avoid misfortune at the same time, making them very well received by those who enjoy chance. The bicorn race was not initially part of the pony tribes, only joining shortly after the age of unification began.”

"That's all you could get?"

"I only had a few minutes, mate," Edward replied with a snort of annoyance.

"Right..." Pierre muttered, looking down.

Trusting Edward to distract Bronze Chainmail when he’d return -  with insults he suspected -, he allowed his thoughts to wander. The information he’d just heard had him uneasy. A cold pit formed in his stomach, worry twisted his guts. He had a bad feeling about this.

They were somehow part of the fourth pony tribe, that was both super rare and lucky. 

What did that mean? How did that translate with that chaperone they seemed to have gotten? And why were they being treated around by the same stallion that seemed ready to call them changelings not an hour ago?! 

> Crier au Loup
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

He could hear the sound of the heavy rain outside, as a muffled noise that served as a background for the ticking of his old grandfather clock. His coat and scarf were draped around himself, providing an appreciable amount of heat on a colder day. A single aroma floated in the room, and one he started to crave.

Lifting a styrofoam cup of steaming dark liquid to his lips, Edward scanned his papers with a severe look on his face. It just wasn’t quite coming together. 

His mouth twisted into a scowl for a short moment, as he tried to figure out what he was missing. He had found the primary sources, the lab reports were completed and detailed, he even had names; so, what was he missing?

He almost jumped, as, deep in his thoughts, he heard a loud ringing. 

His phone. 

“Shit, I swore I put this damnable thing on vibrate.”

Checking the caller’s  i.d., Ed let out a short sigh, “Well, I suppose my dear Frenchmen has news. I hope it’s worth interrupting my blasted work.” 

And news he certainly had, if he understood the excited sentence that quickly came out of his phone. “Ed, you won’t believe it!”    

“What? You discovered a new way to create putrid smelling cheese?” 

“Screw you, again, and my research directors has agreed to fund my project! I’m leaving for my masters in Greece in a week!”

“Greece…” Edward muttered, taking a sip of his coffee, losing himself in his thoughts. “Well that is an interesting spot to travel to. I wouldn’t mind visiting such a place of ancient wonder myself.”

“Ah! Too bad I’m the one that gets to do so, right?” 

Now the frenchie sounded insufferably and uncharacteristically smug. 

“Oh, cute, you’re pretending you grew a spine, how charming.”

“I see you still haven’t tried pretending you’re not an asshole, how typical.”

“I like me, so of course I’m not going to pretend otherwise.” 

“Strangely, you seem to be the only one with such a deep appreciation of yourself. I wonder why.”

“Probably, because I’m too sophisticated for their weak palettes.” 

On the other side of the line, an obnoxiously loud laugh started echoing. For the first few moments, he could simply roll his eyes, but, as the laughter continued, he started to feel annoyed.

“Oh, what happened?” he asked with a falsely concern tone. “Did you look outside and realized you’re still in France?”

“Yes, yes,” Pierre snorted, still giggling. “That must be it.”

“I’m glad you're big enough to admit you live in the most pathetic land in the world.”

“Oh, you condescending limey, I’m the one that gets to go to the place you wanted to visit, because MY country funds research.”

“You also realize that, right now, Greece is in the middle of a civil war right?”

“Details,” Pierre said, and Edward could easily imagine him shrug. “I’m not going to fight anyone.”

“But, that means nothing to the Nazi totalitarians that want to border off all outside traffic.”

There was a breathy sound, akin to a long suffering sigh on the other end of the line. “... Edward, you’re an asshole in every possible meaning of the word.”

“I love you too, mate.”

“Enjoy loving me in rain country of the decrepit monarchy while I go see the ancient civilization that gave us democracy.”

“Yes democracy, and now it’s under a dictatorship, see how that works?" His gaze went to his window, passing over the wet rooftops of the city slowly. "But I digress, who said I wasn't on to yonder pasture, my good sir?”

There was a long silence on the line, during which he knew the realization was sinking in. “...What?”

“I’ll see you at the airport.”

“No.” He heard the word come out harsher than he had ever heard whispered from Pierre. “No, no, no. You are not doing this to me.”

“Yes!” he replied all too evilly, perfectly capable of seeing the angry snarl, as if his friend was right in front of him.

“FUCK YOU, EDWARD!”

The line went dead, but Edward didn’t feel like caring about that. Not with how hard he was grinning. Time to plan a little trip to Greece.

“This is going to be fun!”

--

The wooden door swung open, swiftly enough to startle them, and behind it, one lone alicorn princess looked to them happily. 

“Welcome back,” she greeted them, then moved out of the doorframe, an inviting hoof stretched toward the inside of the library. “Was the tour fun?”

“Yes, it was.” Pierre nodded, hoping to make a better impression this time. “Thank you.”

“If you call Mr.Grumpy here complaining the entire time fun, then yes, by all means, it was a blast.”

“Shut up...”

“Oh, I’m glad to see you both seem to feel better,” Twilight deadpanned. Clearly, things were going well if they were bickering. Still, her tone turned apologetic quickly. “I do want to say how sorry I am for the rough treatment you received because of my suspicions...”

“Yeah, ‘cause calling us changelings is clearly the norm around here,”  Ed muttered, crossing his forehooves in annoyance.

“Don’t mind him, Princess.” Pierre smiled sheepishly, trying to get her to focus on him rather than his friend. “We can understand why you did it.”

Apologetic, Twilight closed the door after them. On edges because of her less than forgiving guest, she could not hold in a nervous chuckle. “Hehe… t-thank you. A-and I’m still really sorry.” 

Edward merely huffed, shaking his head in disbelief. “I can’t understand a single crazy convoluted thing that’s happened all day.” 

A few steps ahead of him, Pierre whispered something, but quietly enough that Twilight could not pick up its meaning. If anything, it sounded… bitter. 

Her heartbeat quickening with that realization, she decided to lead them toward her private quarters, on the basis it would be more comfortable than the library itself.

Neither bicorn raised an objection, though Edward still appeared unpleased. Following her, they trotted upstairs, somewhat clumsily, and reached Twilight’s bedroom.

It stood as they remembered it. Her bed occupied most of the space, but between her mirror and its stand, there was more than enough place to accommodate three ponies. Quickly, however, their host’s horn started to glow with renewed magic, as a trio of pillows floated from a closet and fell in a simple triangle.   

“Hum, if it isn’t too much trouble, I would like to ask you a few questions, in general.” She started turning around to fetch her notebooks, but froze in midstep and swiftly looked back to them. “N-nothing like an interrogation, I promise! I just want to know more about you two.”

Sighing, the brit nodded slowly. “I see no reason why not. It’s not like we have anything better to do.” 

“Excellent, this will just be a few basic questions, so please take your time.” Twilight smiled, clapping her hooves together in approval.

Clumsily, they attempted to sit down on the cushions provided, but Pierre missed and hit his coccyx painfully. While Edward chuckled at the clear lack of agility in play, Twilight winced in sympathy.

“Are you hurt?” she immediately asked.

“Just in my pride.”  

An awkward silence fell between the three of them, only broken by the occasional shift on their seats. 

“So... how about we begin with your names? After all they are, hummm, a bit unorthodox, no offense meant, of course.” Twilight assured, turning to the maroon stallion in front of her, before continuing to her point quickly, as to not insult her interviewees. “Pierre? That’s Prench, right?”

“Well, French is the word we use, but yeah.”

“So…” Her voice trailed off, as her gaze went upward. A soft humming then escaped her mouth, but quickly came to a halt when she looked down again, confidently pointing at his form. “Your name would be Street Rock, right?”

“No.” Pierre scowled, suddenly stern. “No, it’s not. Not even close.”

“Oh...” she muttered, her ears lowering in disappointment. She could have sworn she had gotten it right… And judging by her guest’s reaction, it had even been offensive. “Sorry.”

Seeing that was enough to make the stallion cringe. “It’s huh… a French thing, don’t worry about it.”

He had hoped that his reassurance sufficed, but, for another few moments, none of them pronounced a word. Glancing at one another, each of them seemed to be waiting for the other two to speak up. Even then, Edward didn’t appear all that uneasy with the silence either.

“What about you?” Twilight finally turned to him, wishing she could forget her apparent misstep. “I can’t figure out what the nationality of your name is supposed to be...”

Edward took up a proud stance, puffing his chest in an arrogant display. “I’m from the United Kingdom, my dear princess.” He finished, giving an over exuberant bow, to finish his statement.

She blinked, her brain working at maximum processing speed and coming up with a list of countries that could possibly fit that bill. Fittingly, she came up with a blank and an appropriate conclusion.

“...Is that on the map?” 

“Nope,” Ed answered plainly.

“So you’re from a kingdom that is not on any map?” 

“No, it’s on a map, just not any map on this planet,” he drawled, rolling his eyes, at the fair princess. 

“I doubt Princess Luna kept many maps on the moon,” she said in a decidedly deadpan manner, though a trace of annoyance filtered through.

“It’s not on the moon either. If I was from the moon, do you really think Luna wouldn’t have mentioned moon ponies?” Edward quipped back cheerily.

“She was sealed IN the moon, she wouldn’t have known!” 

Laughing, he sent her a mocking look. “Hahahahaha! Hey, if I had a bunch of ponies jumping on top of my prison, I’m pretty sure I’d-.”

“EDWARD, JUST SHUT UP!” Pierre roared, both in fear of him pissing off their primary chance of going home and in defense of his favorite character, incidentally. Then, breathing deeply, he turned back to their host. “Princess Twilight… We weren’t kidding when we said we’re not from this world.”

“Buzzkill,” Ed murmured under his breath. 

“Why don’t you explain it to me then? Where are you two from? What ARE you if you aren’t bicorns?”

Grimacing, Pierre shot an hesitant look to his companion, but the glare he got in return was enough of an answer in itself. He wanted Edward to shut up, so it was his job to talk now. Nervously, he gulped down.

“Well?” Twilight asked, awaiting his explanation.

T-the words were stuck in his throat. His mouth had gone dry.  

What was he hesitating for? He just… he just had to come out and say it! That was all he had to do! Just a few little words and that would be it!

“We’re humans!”

Silence.    

Twilight simply tilted her head to the side curiously. 

And Pierre could only stare back, still shaking down to his hooves. But none of his greater fear came to pass. 

“Or, we were, before that blasted statue did this,” Edward added as a bitter afterthought.

“That would be rather difficult to accomplish though,” Twilight said, amused. “The mirror will not open up the portal for another fourteen months. And the last time it was opened was sixteen months ago.” 

“H-huh, we weren’t from that reality, Princess,” Pierre stammered quickly, cringing at Edward’s sudden scowl.

“No, of course not. You were from a different reality also inhabited with humans.”

“Why can’t you just realize, lass, we are telling the truth? Why in the name of all that is decent would we make this up?” Ed groaned, rubbing his face in between his hooves.

“Right, right,” Twilight replied, turning around to take a note, and whispered. “Plausibility derived from the impossibility of the claims.”

“Twilight, we get that you’re a mare of reason, but right now, there are two stallions here that don’t belong. Mostly because we aren’t stallions,” the now irritated limey exclaimed, motioning between himself and his companion.

Humming to herself, she nodded patiently. Her quills continued to scribble on the scroll next to her. If they had been telling her about the fascinating life cycle of the common mosquito, it was likely her interest would have been less faked.

Pierre stared at her, discountenanced. Ears flattened, almost backing away, he didn’t seem to see Twilight in the same light anymore. A slight shaking took over his limbs. 

He remained silent.

“Well, I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to look into it,” Twilight decided, bringing up her own agenda and adding a few words in an empty space.  

Finishing with her menial tasks, she believed it would be more prudent to move on, if not to calm the room’s nerves, even only a little. 

“You two will be staying in Ponyville for quite a while, correct?”

“We’re not leaving until you come back with some answers for us, Twilight,” Edward told her firmly, and, for once, Pierre agreed wholeheartedly.   

That was the one thing on which they would not compromise. Their futures were at stake here. So, on that issue, they were united and facing a princess head on. 

Their answer was delayed longer than they would have expected, the princess lacking the foresight of a rebuttal, or the need for one at this point either. 

“Oh, of course,” Twilight finally told them, her tone still a touch unconvinced. “Well, I’ve taken the liberty of renting a hotel room for the two of you. Think of it as an apology for the less than savoury cell you had to visit.”

“Thanks...” They replied, a little hesitant. 

“The Golden Stables. Have you seen it yet?” Seeing as they shook their head, Twilight quickly scribbled a note and made it burst into a flash of pink light. “Alright, this should take care of things. Just head to the North of the Plaza, it’s very easy to find.”

“If you say so. Hotel beds never really feel as comfortable as your own. But I suppose beggars can’t be choosers, especially when the beggar is from another world altogether.” Edward sighed, slowly scuffing a hoof against the floor tiredly. 

“Well, it’s decided then,” she declared, officially. “I’ve sent everything ahead of you, so you don’t need to worry.” 

Still feeling as if they were missing something important, the two bicorns nonetheless waved her goodbye and wished her a good day, Edward less sincerely than he could have. In the end, they would not protest too hard at getting a paid stay at a nice hotel. It would give them time to regroup and unscramble their thoughts a bit. 

They did not manage to take more than a few steps outside the library before bumping into an armored chest. 

“What are you doing here?” Pierre asked Chainmail, as he rubbed the tip of his now sensitive muzzle.    

“I’ve been assigned to your protection,” the guard said, puffing his chest proudly. 

Edward stared back blankly. “Our…?” 

“...Protection?” Pierre completed his friend’s thought.

“Great,” the brit grumbled. “Right when I thought we were finally freed from armored stalkers.”

More worrisome even was Chainmail’s complete lack of reaction at the insult. It slid off his back completely, a benevolent smile showing instead. His eyes shone with an almost paternal light, a fact that showed in his protective stance over them. “Please, follow me. I’ve already been instructed as to where to lead you both.”

Reluctantly, glancing at each other, they followed him, albeit staying at a reasonable pace behind. It was enough to make him frown at them, but not enough to bother them about it. That was more or less what they wanted at the moment. 

As soon as Chainmail’s attention went back to their destination and the path to use, the two leaned closer to each other.

“He’s not going to lead us to a hotel…” Pierre whispered, keeping a close eye on their guardian angel ahead. “Definitely the asylum...”

“If he thinks he can put me in a cage, he will have a face full of horns to fend off first.” Edward lowered his head slightly, nostrils flaring.

“Seeing as he’s a trained guard, I don’t think it’ll be that much of a problem.”

“I highly doubt this fool is any more trained than a mall cop.”

“We haven’t even managed to run successfully yet, Ed. You’re more likely to headbutt the ground!”

“I put that completely on you, my friend. If we never bother to fight back, we will be doomed anyway.” 

On the verge of protesting, Pierre stopped, ears drooping down. “Point.”

Resting a hoof on the discouraged stallion, Edward sighed, looking ahead of them at their warden.“If nothing, we do need some sort of plan.”

“Right...” Pierre mumbled, glancing down with a pensive frown on his face. “Well, how about we start things off by lulling the guard into a sentiment of false security and then...”

Edward quickly picked up the slack, first coming up with a rather interesting counterattack. Mulling it over, they accepted that step, and went on to the next one, which, of course, had to be more extreme to be appropriate. So, as they walked, their ideas hit both a practicality and reasonability snag. 

“...And that's when we hit him with the watermelon.” Edward hit both of his front hooves together for emphasis, before dropping back on all four legs.  

“Wait, I thought the watermelon came before that,” Pierre interjected.

“We’ve arrived,” Chainmail announced, cutting them off their planning.

Edward’s reply died in his throat, as both bicorns turned simultaneously forward, and thus realized that they were standing in the entrance of what appeared to be a hotel. Apprehensive, the two examined their surroundings, trying and failing to spot a trap of any kind. If this were an asylum, then it seemed like a very well maintained, luxurious and cozy asylum. Red carpets, silk curtains, decorated chandelier, the whole decoration existed only to clash with the very idea of a nice little countryside place like Ponyville. 

Blinking, they mechanically followed the guard further inside toward the reception desk. Chainmail seemed only amused by their bewilderment.

“Well, I’m thoroughly confused. Any thoughts, Pierre?” Edward mused, turning and nugging his emotional companion. 

Unfortunately, the shock had an even greater effect on him. “W-whaaaaaa…? B-b-but… this is a hotel!”

“Of course it is, where else would I have brought you?” Chainmail asked, after turning and viewing his two shellshocked charges.

“The mad house!” Pierre instantly replied. “At least it would have made sense!”

“I’m sorry, but why in the name of Celestia would I do that?” the soldier gasped in surprise at the response he received.

Before Pierre could attempt to list reasons in favor of their admittance to any medical treatment center in the vicinity, Edward’s hoof roughly pushed him backward and made him stumble on his rump. 

“I would thank you very much, not to get us declared crazy, mime boy,” he said, right as Chainmail attempted to go help his friend stand. 

“You two must be long-time friends,” he told him in bemusement at their antics, watching Edward examine the paintings on the wall and declare them poor. “Let me guess, you two were from the same herd?”

“Mon Dieu, non.” Pierre quickly shook his head in horror. Oh, the thought of being related to Edward in any way just made him shiver. “We just… met, some time ago.”

“I could have sworn...” Chainmail shrugged, motioning for his charge to follow him.

Quickly, the sound of Edward’s hoofsteps joined their progression, and they made it to the front desk, where a blue mare with a pink mane sat. 

“How may I help you?” she asked, keeping her smile inviting and professional. 

“Princess Sparkle has made a reservation earlier today.” Chainmail leaned over the counter, pointing to the two stallions behind him. “I believe it was a two beds room on the second floor.”

To her credit, she did not even so much as twitch when the species of her clients became obvious. As a receptionist in a Ponyville hotel, she had to control her expressions perfectly. And Celestia knew how many oddity she was given to see.

In little time, she had found the note magically sent by the resident princess, with a purse containing the exact amount of bits needed for the two bicorns’ stay. Clearly, somepony had done her research on the Golden Stables before making her choice.

“Ah, here it is,” she exclaimed, placing a set of keys over the register. “You have been given Room 206, on the West aisle. Do you need somepony to show you the way?”

“No thank you, Miss,” Chainmail replied with a confident grin. “We’ll be able to find it on our own.”

Wordlessly, the two bicorns moved after him, a nagging thought still making them wonder if this could be an elaborate ruse to get them imprisoned. Though, they had to admit, this would be quite the prison to be stuck in. The atmosphere of grandeur only increased with each step. 

The stairs only tripped them four or five times, at most. And no, they did not trip on the giant flower pots in the hallways before getting to the door with the appropriate number.

“I’ll be standing in the corridor if you need me,” Their guide pointed to a spot nearby with his rusty orange hoof. “But the room is soundproof. So, if there is anything you need, you’ll have to open the door beforehoof, got it?”  

“You know, you might as well die right away. You’ll starve to death before we call you,” Edward stated with one last glare, slamming the door behind him. 

Well, he thought, at the very least, our room is decent. 

For a moment, his gaze simply followed the tasteful furnitures filling what was to be their place to rest for the time being. Certainly, his friend was a bit of a sore sight in such an environment, his coat almost merging with the rest of the room’s colors, but it was not all that bad. Besides, Pierre didn’t seem keen on staying standing for much longer. 

As predicted, he let out a long sigh and dropped down on his bed, not even bothering with the covers. Eyes half-closed, he rolled on his back, staring at the decorated ceiling of their bedroom. Albeit his breathing remained calm and steady, a tension danced underneath the surface. His thoughts were a jumbled mess.  

He barely noticed when Edward sat down near the window, his gaze still on the streets below.  “I know you’ve been holding it in all day. So, just go ahead, let it out, but don’t scre-.”

“HORSES! HORSES!” Pierre threw his legs in the air, shaking all over. “WE’RE HORSES!”

Edward rolled his eyes, muttering a curse under his breath at the excessive noise produced when he was just as drained from these events than his friend. So, he used the method he probably would have used anyway, but with a bit more enthusiasm.

The smacking sound of a slap cut through the panicked screams like butter, and a blinking maroon stallion was left massaging one half of his face. A stinging hoof-shaped area on his cheek throbbed with pain.

“We’re more like goats, bro.” 

“Die in a fire,” Pierre hissed darkly.

“Rational retort, my dear friend, because you are perfectly capable of dealing with this problem alone.”

“Like you are?” he shot back, snorting in disbelief. “You’ve been taking shots at everyone that doesn’t roll over for you.”

Unfazed, Edward rolled his eyes. “I’m still a tad more calm than you are at this time. Attacking me serves as little point as whining about the situation at hand.”

“It’s great stress-relief though.”

“So is me slapping the piss out of you.”   

“Enfoiré,” Pierre mumbled, burying his head in his pillow.

With a casual shrug, Edward left his friend to his sulking, in favor of a few books he had noticed underneath their bedside tables. Picking them all up in a pile, without even knowing how he managed that feat, he went back to the far side of the room. The work table that awaited him there would do nicely. He simply needed to… balance these...

After a few minutes of worldless struggle, the surface of the desk had become littered with books. It was certainly annoying, but the important thing was that they were opened and he had access to their content! 

In any situation, it always paid off to gather some information beforehoof. And he had a feeling they would need it.

--

The large set of ornate doors slowly fell shut, behind the departure of Celestia’s last tenant. The day court had been, once more, an exhausting duty, and she would have been relieved of its end, if not for another piece of news she had received. At first, the sight of the characteristical sparks of dragonfire mail had made her heart warm, but that warmth left her quickly. The inked words certainly spoke of a most important situation. Two mysterious bicorns arriving from seemingly nowhere, and saying they hailed from another world, worried the solar princess greatly. If the two stallions were not within the known selection of Bicorns, then where had they come from? And why had she not known about it sooner?

Perhaps, as her student had speculated, they indeed were from a neighboring nation. At a first glance, it seemed like the obvious answer. Unfortunately, she knew for a fact that it was rather unlikely. The populations outside of her kingdom had blended in with the other tribes and disappeared outright. 

If the answer to this question was not mundane, then there would only one other being in her castle that could bring light to this. 

Sighing, she stood, resolve shining in her eyes. The idea did not please her, but, at the very least, it would be instructive, one way or another. 

After trotting past her guards, allowing them to follow her through her short journey, she followed the path leading to the object of her inquiry. 

Opening the door to Discord’s personal suite within the palace, Celestia was met with a sensation of disorientation. Her sight had momentarily blurred and spirals of yellow and black had emerged in a tidal wave of ghostly constructs singing loud opera. With a shake of her head, she advanced forward into the room, only to feel her hooves sinking half a foot into jelly. 

Her delicate brows furrowed together, but she looked past the last remainders of the swirling mist. If there had been any doubt as to the owner of this suite before, they would have been destroyed with extreme prejudice by the sight that awaited one of the rulers of Equestria. 

A bipedal feline walked peacefully on the jelly floor, from one end of the bright pink room to the other, where a strange device that squeaked like a mouse hid behind a larger bird that seemed to function as a clock of sorts... Celestia was almost captivated by this new, unknown intelligent lifeform, but knew enough of Discord to stay focused. She went past the miniature portable theater, the rows of dancing cacti and the philosopher penguins without a pause. No amount of inverted lollipops or broken reflections within intacts mirror could truly shake her. This was important, and she needed his knowledge, whatever madness he summoned.

Appropriately, the Draconequus himself was in the center of it all, hovering in mid air, in an upside down position.

Stepping forward and swinging the door closed behind her, the princess addressed the god of chaos. “Discord, we need to talk.”

“Oh hello Celly, how are you on this glorious day, hmmm?” He chuckled, rotating around to meet her gaze.

“Twilight recently sent me a very interesting letter, that I thought you might know something about,” Celestia commented casually, silently floating the scroll that until now had been at her side into view of the king of disharmony.

“Oh, well I always enjoy one of “Princess” Twilight’s little lessons. What’s today’s problem, disaster, calamity, cataclysm, catastrophe, debacle or mystery, and how could I possibly be to blame?” He laughed heartily, going so far as to wipe a fake tear from his eye. 

Celestia merely floated the scroll closer, to which Discord happily scooped it out of the air and proceeded to quickly skim the text, mumbling unintelligible words beneath his breath. After finishing, he simply tossed the letter aside, which combusted before reaching the ground.

“I can say without a single itsy bitsy doubt.” Discord shrunk with each of his words. “I had absolutely nothing to do with this exact case of chaos,” he finished his declaration by popping back to his original size, a large grin plastered to his smug muzzle.

“You’ll forgive me, if I have a hard time believing that. You may act as if everything you’ve done is by chance or coincidence, but we all know you always have a plan in motion,” Celestia retorted cooly, never once losing her air of composure. 

“Oh, come now Celestia, Plans? If I bothered with Plans, then I wouldn’t be chaos incarnate would I?” Discord reasoned, circling the princess lazily.“It was a whim! I created the Bicorns because one of those silly little rebels had the audacity to laugh at my goatee. Well, he and his thousand neighbors sure enjoyed the irony of becoming goatie themselves.” 

Magenta eyes narrowed dangerously as the draconequus let out a loud laugh, amused by his own joke. Still, it did not last long, as the lack of reaction from his least favorite princess soured the humor of the situation for him.

“Oh fine, you were always such a party pooper, Celestia.” Discord rolled his eyes, dropping down on the floor for the first time since she had invaded his quarters. “No, I did not create more bicorns. Do you want me to swear? On my own head, if you so wish it.” His paws went to his neck, and with a popping noise, he lifted his head toward her. “There, satisfied? It was not me. And I’m pleasantly surprised. Can you imagine? There is someone else out there as crazy as me. Or at least... someone idle enough to challenge nature itself.” 

Celestia shivered. 

> Taboo
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The atmosphere inside the cab was heavy. The sound of the engine deafened most if not all of the music coming off from the driver’s radio. It wouldn’t have mattered much however, as Edward could not tell much of what was being sung anyway, and Pierre certainly did not appear in the mood for translations. 

Once more, the Englishman glanced to his fellow brony. His face was hidden from sight, completely turned toward the landscape scrolling past them. He had remained in a thoughtful silence so far, only breaking it to instruct their driver as to their first destination. 

Quite frankly, it was both everything and nothing like what he imagined. The arrival at the airport had been quietly amusing, for he could not help a smug grin at seeing his friend’s bafflement. A few minutes of rambling later, mostly on how he could not have been that big of a troll, Pierre had finally sighed and asked how long he intended to stay. Thus, it had been decided that they would more or less spend the week together until his master’s was truly underway. 

On the other hand, once they had left the hotel to start the sightseeing, Pierre had fallen into this quiet state. As evident as the anger was, to the point that Edward had felt justified in needling him about this sulking, it still had become rapidly an hinderance to any conversation. 

With such silence being cultivated, he had let his thoughts wander. As he did now. 

A small smile grew on his face. There were many things to do for their improvised trip, many occasions to have fun, even something to make it up to Pierre. Surely there would be something that could be offered to a history student in Greece...

It was on those thoughts that the silence was broken.

“Yes…”, came the first word. 

As he turned around, Edward quickly noticed Pierre’s grin. His eyes shone brightly, and his face showed all the excitement of a child in a candystore. 

“Yes!” He exclaimed loudly.

“Oh, you finally decided to stop sulking?” 

“Ah!” Pierre dismissed the comment with a wave of his hand. “All the britishness in the world couldn’t sour this moment for me.”

Intrigued, Edward leaned closer, his brows furrowed in concentration. Stretching his neck, he gave a tentative glance through the windshield, past the driver that was resolutely ignoring them. Yet he still couldn’t quite spot the source of Pierre’s excitement. 

“Here, look through my window.” The Frenchman grabbed him with surprising strength and pointed at something beyond the tainted window. “See that, over the hill? That’s the Acropolis!”

And, as Edward saw the unmistakable temple overlooking the citadel, his mind was visited by a quiet sentiment of awe. Those relics of the past held such prestige, such splendor that he felt briefly humbled. But, beyond that, he couldn’t help but feel he had to make the frenchmen beside him look stupid. “So, it’s an old stone building, what’s the big deal?”    

It earned him a punch to the shoulder and a death glare. 

“To be honest though, it is quite a brilliant old rock. The level of detail is quite astounding, especially for the tools at their disposal.” Edward hummed slowly, rubbing his now bruised shoulder.

Pierre grunted in a mixture of agreement and annoyance. He even shoved his friend back in his seat, but kept the silence that had accompanied them until now. 

A situation that at least one of them deemed unacceptable. 

“So, are we simply playing tourist, or is there something special you need to do while here?” A bored Edward pondered, staring out the window mindlessly.

“Right now? We’re only playing tourists. I’ll have to come back here again a good number of times anyway, the first time might as well be a more recreational activity.”

“For once, Mr. Mime, I can agree with the sentiment. Are you sure you can afford it though?”

“Yeah, it’s cool, Ed.” Pierre shrugged, his eyes half-closed in contemplation, a small smile on his face. “It’s not like it’ll be the last time I see this place.”


--


Merciless rays of light shone on his face, coming off as a painful curtain of red behind his closed eyelids. With a groan, he buried his head away into his pillow, but things felt strange. Unusual. Turning his head around was impaired by a pull at the back of his skull. No amount of twisting and turning would fight off the sensation; he could not fall asleep again. His eyes flickered open, and Pierre was made to remember his situation.

His muscles tensed, frozen at once when the sensory assault proved very real. The hooves he saw were his, the touch of a blanket was dimmed, or rather amplified, by the uncountable strands of fur that covered his skin. Details of all kinds came one after the other, each of them contradicting more than twenty years of his memory. 

And confirming his most recent ones. 

It hadn’t been a dream. 

Quelle merde…

Holding in a sigh, he rolled over, trying to push the sheets away from his body, without quite managing to. His hind legs were still weighed down. 

Carefully, with slow and thoughtful movements, he extricated himself from his prison and started getting out of bed. First off, the front legs, they fell together against the floor, but he, all too focused, locked them into solid pillars. 

For a brief moment, memories of his previous life flashed before his eyes. They were short-lived, all too mundane. It was simply of him trying to get up in the morning, and failing miserably. Most of his body remained still on the treacherous fluffy, warm, comfortable surface, while his arms served as uneasy pivots. All too predictably, gravity screwed him over and his face made acquaintance with the ground. 

Now, his current position reminded him of those occurrences, though with a crucial difference. At the moment, he had rarely felt this steady. And, when he pushed himself forward, his hind legs caught the rest of his weight without a hint of trouble. He was standing on all four, perfectly. 

A bubble of bitterness popped in his brain. It seemed as if everytime he tried to improve his movements, he only made things worse. Being comfortable brought back images of his homeworld. Being stupidly clumsy brought humiliation and pain. He could have been trotting for hours, the second he thought about it, he would start tripping over his hooves. 

The corners of his lips fell, his mouth twisting into a grimace. Just thinking about it set something ablaze in his chest, but wondering about the future blew that fickle flame away, leaving only a cold fear. So many things were twisted about this, so many things simply were too surreal to be actual part of the world for him.

But no amount of denial could help him here. Until they could find a way back, as humans, they would have to adapt. So far, they had done a mediocre job at it. The finer details of pony movements were completely lost on them. A simple trip to the bathroom had proven itself an humiliating challenge.

He didn’t want to imagine how badly things would go if they had to flee for their lives. Through sheer dumb luck, they had gone through the Everfree Forest without encountering anything. If they had...

A shiver shook him from horns to hooves.

“Maybe I should...” he whispered, lifting one front leg slowly.

Glancing back to his still sleeping companion, Pierre bit his lips, testing his balance on his hooves. His eyes closing, he ran through his mind the sequence he followed to walk, and tried to imagine it faster. If he were to run...

With a deep breath, he launched himself forward, galloping for a short moment. However, as the wall closed the distance between them at an alarming rate, he realized that slowing down was harder than it seemed.

The peaceful and silent morning was thus broken by a thundering bang, sudden enough to send one british bicorn straight out of his sleep.

A loud swear followed suit.

“S-sorry, Ed,” Pierre muttered, mechanically rubbing his forehead. “I tried to stop, but I just ended up headbutting the wall.”

The grey stallion glared under his disheveled morning mane. "In the name of the Queen, I will not stand for such brazen stupidity!"

“Right, right,” Pierre replied slowly as he failed to locate any bump, bruise or swelling. “What are you going to do about it?”

“Perhaps I’ll plant my horns somewhere unsavory, or toss you out of the window, you know, whatever happens to present itself first,” Edward detailed, a wicked grin forming on his face as he imagined each given scenario.

At that, an incredulous snort came from his friend’s direction. 

“Whatever.” He rolled his eyes. “I’m going to take a shower.”

“Good luck, try not to drown.” Ed waved carelessly, before falling back upon his pillow.

“You would like that,” Pierre replied as he trotted, slowly, carefully, toward the bathroom and disappeared inside. There was the click of a lock, then, nothing.

For a precious few seconds, peace reign supreme in their suite. Edward’s head sunk comfortably into his pillow and a sigh of contentment escaped his lips. The bed was decadently fitted for a king. He could have spent all morning just lying down there, listening to the sound of running water and the occasional voices of a passerby below the window. 

Then, from the depth of their bathroom, he heard a crashing noise and an obnoxiously loud French swear word.

“So much for that,” he growled into his pillow. “Stupid wanker...”

Sometimes I wonder how that silly little Frenchman would even survive without someone to pick him up, after he falls flat on his face. He might be a likable person, but, when all he does is spaz out over everything, it really leaves one to wonder... 

As Edward pondered his friends clumsy nature, he heard the sound of approaching hoofsteps.

“That must be the purple princess, or that blasted guard. Either way, better make sure Pierre doesn’t embarrass himself too bad.” With that, Ed rose to his hooves and jumped from his perch on the rather comfortable bed. 

“Frogger!” he called.

“Huh, what?” A maroon muzzle peeked out of the bathroom’s door, dripping hot droplets of water onto the ground. After a swipe of a hoof, wet bangs of black made way for blue eyes that shone with curiosity. “What is it, limey?”

The question went unanswered for a few seconds, accurately the time it took for Twilight Sparkle to come into view of Pierre. 

“Hello boys,” she said with a polite nod to them both.“I’ve come to check up on you, and I brought some friends with me.”      

"Well, tell them to be careful, Pierre has a giant case of the stupids today," Edward snarked, still looking to his clumsy and wet friend. 

And before another volley of biting insults could be fired between them, they were blindsided by a pink blur. Cotton candy mane bouncing and perfect shining white teeth showing, Pinkie Pie had taken to the sight with much more excitement than even her usual levels of hyperactivity.

“Oh, oh! Is that the bagages you had for your travels? I mean, I wouldn’t carry stupids in my stuff, but I don’t travel that much either! What would you need it for? Is it in case of ‘stupids emergency’, whatever that is?”

“Most likely, though Pierre is the expert, so feel free to ask him about all the uses for Stupidity. He has probably made more uses for it than anyone else, ever!” Ed suggested, pushing the pink mare toward his companion. 

Seizing the opportunity, she wrapped him tightly within two inescapable furry legs. “We’re going to have so much fun together, maybe-cuz!”  

She gave another squeeze, and Pierre felt his lungs empty themselves of air. Dots and flashes of light danced in his sight briefly, as his first protest died weakly as a wheeze. 

“On the other hand,” he growled raspily, trying to untangle himself from Pinkie’s grasp. “If you ever feel the need to be an unlikeable asshole with no friends, feel free to ask him all about smug and condescending declarations. You would think he has to reach a quota the way he speaks.”

“Yet, you hang out with me, what does that say about you?” Edward inquired, slowly walking forward and wrapping a foreleg around Pierre’s neck.

“It says that this is a nightmare and a desperate situation. Clearly, I must have offended someone above.”

“Or maybe Nightmare Moon captured you? I’d love to see that, imagine the dark magical hexes and curses she could cast on someone like you?” Edward countered, ribbing his adversary on each word.   

“Only if King Sombra gets a go at you. You wouldn’t last more than a few hours in the mines, but you might make a decent enough rug in his bathroom.”

Shaking his head, Ed sat on his haunches and waved away Pierre’s assumptions. “Sombra can’t even finish a sentence, I’m convinced he was retarded or something.” 

“Goodness gracious!”, came Rarity’s posh voice from behind them. “You two have been to the Crystal Empire as well?”

While they were arguing, the rest of the bearers of the Elements had entered their suite. At the front, Rarity and Rainbow Dash had joined Twilight, standing on each side of her. Slightly behind, Fluttershy and Applejack were looking at them over their friends’ shoulders. 

He attributed them taking him by surprise so to the size of their hotel room. Even with eight ponies in the entrance, they could still stand comfortably… with the exception of Pierre who was still trapped beneath pure party pony hugs.

“No, why would we?” Edward looked between the seamstress and the princess. “We’ve only been in Equestria a couple of days – a fact Twilight here seems to have omitted –, and besides, I can’t say I’m much a fan of cold places.”  

“Most mentions of Sombra were erased from history,” Twilight explained with a slightly suspecting tone. “And his return was a fact only known to a select few.”

“Well, clearly, me and my friend here are super ancient thousand year old gods, sent to Ponyville to warn you of an ancient evil that will soon awaken…” Edward said calmly, waving a hoof nonchalantly toward the onlookers.  

Pierre’s hoof met his forehead, strongly enough to make a resounding noise. While the mares around him flinched, he appeared not to have felt any pain as he started speaking clearly. “Princess, do not listen to his ridiculous jokes. It is as we said. We are humans and we have come across some knowledge of this world beforehand...”

It was only when the last word had left his mouth that he realized how silent the room had become. Everyone’s stare had fallen on him, each expressing varying degrees of incredulity. Pinkie Pie seemed the most believing of the group, by a large margin. Her grin had not diminished in the slightest. In fact, she appeared ready to ask them all about it. The others though… seemed to be a lot less open to the idea. They chose to remain silent, in the hopes a new subject would be determined.  

His ears drooping down, Pierre whispered: “I’m serious...”

The mares avoided his gaze, and as much as he tried to search for even a hint of trust, they remained as quiet as they had been before. 

It was Rainbow Dash that finally broke the silence. 

“Eh, I’ll go with the ancient gods thing,” she said, completely deadpan. 

The others, excluding the still happily oblivious party pony, shared quick skeptical glances at the notion of either story. 

“Why thank you very much, my young mortal.” Edward bowed, the biggest shit-eating grin plastered to his face.

In contrast, Pierre’s mouth twisted into a scowl into which he put all his hatred toward the Universe. And Edward. Especially Edward.

Fluttershy’s body subtly disappeared behind Applejack. From beyond strands of pink, fearful blue irises locked onto his. 

Twilight, trying to steer the two quarreling stallions, sighed, and brought forth a clipboard and quill she’d brought along. Tapping the clipboard repeatedly in an attempt to garner the others’ attention, she decided that it would be best to move forward with their meeting. 

“Well, we are slightly behind on our schedule.”

“Schedule?” they repeated.  

“Yes. You see, I am taking over the effort to help you integrate into Ponyville’s community for the time being. As such, there is a lot to do, starting from giving you a crash course on the social expectations concerning two adult bicorns like you, the exchange rate and the general cost of life in Ponyville, the local texts of laws and-”

A grey hoof to the mouth stopped her short. And, albeit sudden, the contact was gentler than expected.

“Short version, if you would? We are on a schedule, aren’t we?”

“Oh, right. We decided to meet you and get to know each other better at the Croissant Parfait. It is a local café Rarity suggested we take you to after I learned one of you was Prench.” 

At this, Pierre noticed how the mares eyes darted in his direction. Not long enough for it to be impolite, of course, but it had been noticeable. His gaze even met Rarity’s, though she did not look away, instead holding it with a hint of interest. Pierre’s face started to heat up under this attention, and his tail flickered once or twice. It came to the point he was almost grateful for the British pony leg pulling harder on his neck.

“You mean French right? Because – and I can speak with quite a bit of authority on this – the word starts with an ‘F’,” Edward interrupted, nudging his cohort as he spoke. “In either case, I do appreciate the free food, though I hope it’s not too fancy; I’m a man of earnest tastes.” 

“Ain’t that something I like to hear! None of this fancy-smanchy stuff, just good hearty food,” Applejack said and patted him in the back, while Rarity huffed in indignation.

In unison, both Pierre and Edward’s stomach growled, demonstrating the cunning of Twilight’s plan. They could not have helped it, hearing Applejack’s words had brought forth images of delicious-looking apple treats to mind.

“Oh, I think it’s time to go.” Fluttershy smiled at them, hints of maternal care in her voice. “We can talk more when we’ve eaten, right?”

Nopony offered an objection to her suggestion, and they started leaving the suite, chatting freely. The mares introduced themselves, as best as one could manage while trying to leave a room at the same time as seven other ponies. At the back of the herd, Edward and Pierre counted themselves lucky that they already had more than a passing knowledge of their identities. In the end, they could only leave their suite once every mare had done so beforehand.

They stepped outside, half expecting an intrusive greeting from their bodyguard, but, to their surprise, the hallways were free of armored ponies. On either side of their suite, there were nopony waiting for them patiently, or anypony at all, truthfully. 

“Oh, and where is our favorite watchdog ?” Edward asked with one raised eyebrow. “I would have thought he’d be ready to pin us to the ground had we tried to leave our room.”

“Dismissed for the day,” Twilight explained, almost rolling her eyes at his comment. “After all, this is going to be a simple gathering between friends. Nothing too crazy.”


--


“Oatmeal?! Are you crazy?!”

They repressed a laugh, the taste of daffodil a vivid reminder of their situation. Surely coughing up food graciously paid for them would be bad manners, but Goodness was it hard. That one had been surprisingly clever. 

There was a knowing look exchanged around the table, from one mare to another and to them as well. The atmosphere had grown relaxed and pleasant, as a mixture of food and good company had a tendency to do. Grilled herbs let out a delicate aroma, incorporated to the dishes of vegetables and fruits. They had tasted simple, yet almost entirely foreign to the two stallions. 

Their mouths broke into grins of appreciation for it all. Sitting next to one another, as part of the circle around their reserved table, Pierre and Edward felt their worries and questions melt away. In this place, at a café with six charming and energetic mares to talk to, it was so easy to let themselves get taken in by the flow. A word, a comment, a joke, or a piece of juicy gossip, then they’d be part of it. Something salacious from Rarity that would make Fluttershy, sitting to her left, blush, and sometimes smile timidly. A boastful claim, immediately challenged by another’s rebuttal, followed by a lecture on restraint or manners, always ending in a fit of laughter, before the cycle seemed to start again. 

And, of course, at the centerfold of it all, there was Pinkie Pie.                                   

She was the life of the party, so to speak, and she could not stop giving the boys her attention. Jokes, of course, but a great deal of anecdotes and varied topics for them to connect on as well.

“Granny Pie said that her great-grandma told her HER grandma was a bicorn!” she pointed out cheerfully, making back and forth gestures between the three of them. “So, you two are like family! All three of us have bicorns in our families!”

They did not even have the time to protest that statement, as their field of vision were filed with a volley of multicolored confetti. 

“No, I’m afraid that means only you are related to bicorns, Pinkie.” The grey stallion sighed, shaking his head at the overly excited mare. 

On his seat, Pierre fared only marginally better. With a single hoof, he tried to dust off his coat of the confetti, without sending them into his food. As ordinary as the task seemed, it didn’t stop a shiver from going down his spine. For a brief instant, he shot nervous glances at the others, in particularly Twilight, but his reaction had gone unnoticed.

“Well, boys, personally, Ah don’t know if Ah have some bicorns in mah family tree…” Her green eyes went to her enthusiastically bouncing friend. “That detail’s a bit unclear… But, ya know what? That stuff just don’t matter none. We’re gonna do our best to treat ya like y’all were anyway.”  

“T-thanks, Applejack. That’s really kind of you.”

“Shucks, it’s nothing. Ponyville’s a good place like that.” 

“If you excuse the initial cage and all, but excluding that little episode, it seems like a rather nice place indeed.” Edward agreed, flashing Twilight a cheeky grin.

For her part, Twilight merely shifted her gaze away from the wily stallion and toward his much more subdued companion.

“You know...” Pierre started, looking a bit nervous. “Ever since we arrived in Ponyville, everyone’s been treating us really differently. Do you all think it is that big of a deal? Our species, I mean?”

“Oh, not at all, dear.” Rarity’s hoof rested on his, softly. “Well, in some way, yes, of course. Everypony has a role to play in Equestria. Why, pegasi regulating the weather is, as you put it, ‘a big deal’, don’t you think?”

“I…” He opened his mouth, but closed it without making a sound, looking a little defeated. “Fair enough, I guess.”

“Though most pegasi aren't treated like celebrities, upon arrival.”  

“I wish!” Rainbow Dash snorted in her drink.

All eyes turned toward her. The attention did not deter her, not in the slightest.

“You know,” she went on with a cocky grin, “when you think about it, bicorns ARE pretty lucky,” she snickered.    

“Dash, you know that this is not how it works at all!” Twilight stood up, getting more worked up by her friend’s insensitive attitude. “Studies show that their innate powers give them intuitive abilities to avoid dangers and the likes. Adult bicorns are routinely known to unconsciously dodge falling objects or push other ponies out of the way of unexpected accidents.”

Unfortunately, and rather unsurprisingly, the lecture had little effect on the flippant pegasus.

“Still, you guys have it pretty good. Hay, I wouldn’t mind too much being a bicorn, if that didn’t mean not being able to fly anymore.”

“That...” Twilight stuttered, mortified. “You...” 

Briefly, Edward glanced at his left, toward Pierre, and saw that the same worry as before was starting to crawl up on him. 

Not that the rest of the bearers fared much better. Their jaws hung, aghast at the audacity of the words their friend pronounced. Pinkie Pie, of all ponies, seemed blatantly unamused, her eyebrows lowered into a frown. 

“Dashie...” she said slowly, and it betrayed pain.

“Come on, you guys know what I mean right? I mean, you could give Applejack a run for her bits when it comes to plowing,” Rainbow Dash joked, nudging the farm mare at her side. 

The words had drained all colors from Applejack’s face. 

“Ah do not…!” she started to say, but lost her voice in abject horror. 

“How crude!” Rarity huffed, turning up her nose on such ghastly vulgarity.

Twilight jumped upright and her expression was sterned. “Rainbow Dash! That was completely inappropriate!”

“Oh come on, Twi!” she drawled. “We were all thinking it!”

“Huh… I-I wasn’t...” Fluttershy meekly intervened, half-trying to hide behind her mane.

“That doesn’t mean you should say it, Rainbow!”

“Pffft, come on, Twi. Everypony knows the goat heads just buck and raise. That’s it.”

“Rainbow Dash, there is nothing wrong with raising one's young. It’s how many species live, it’s natural. Is that so wrong?” Fluttershy added, stepping between her two bickering friends.

At that point, Rainbow’s bravado was starting to dwindle. The confrontational look she had bore melted into more of a grimace, as she looked into her oldest friend’s eyes. “W-well… no, I didn’t mean it like that, Shy.”

Deflating, she sat back down, and, with that, brought the reprimands to a halt. But the conversation did not pick up from that quite yet. In silence, they all waited for something, anything, that could end this awkwardness. There were a few attempts, well-meaning but too feeble, and the ponies ended more fidgety than before. Nervous chuckles came out of their throats, and they avoided all eye contact with either Edward or Pierre. If they had, perhaps they would have noticed how the maroon bicorn had grown steadily more worried every time. 

His breath hitched up, and his eyes went over each of them quickly. Twitches shook his ears, then his tail. The first time he opened his mouth, he produced no sound. On his second attempt, each word seemed to be shaking with his voice. “Yes, well, I… huh… think we left something on at the hotel.”

No sooner had he spoken that he scrambled up to his hooves and left the restaurant.

“Pierre!” Watching as his friend took off, he quickly followed, but not before sending a very irritated glare at the rainbow colored mare.

Rushing past the startled elements who now sat in a state of silent confusion, Edward ran out of the door, scrounging to keep up with his fleeing friend.

“Pierre, wait up! Damn it, you git. I’m in no fit condition to run across Equestria for ya. We need to talk about this, damn it!” he called after his friend, stumbling on his hooves while trying to catch the retreating Frenchman. 

As he watched his friend sprint away, Edward felt a culmination of all his pent up anger erupt. Not wanting his panicking friend to end up doing something foolish, he let out a growl of defiance, and sped ahead in a nearly blind blur of rage and fear.

Behind a corner, he caught sight of a patch of maroon fur. Slowing down, Edward trotted forward, a thoughtful frown on his face. It further intensified when he saw Pierre, sitting down with a vacant look in his eyes.    

“You were in quite a rush, so, mind clarifying what exactly crawled under your skin this time? I mean, Dash made quite an ass of herself for sure, but your reaction was a bit out there, wouldn’t you agree?” He pondered, placing a steady hoof on his disgruntled friend’s shoulder.

For a moment, there was no reply.

“Pierre, wha-”

“Why did she say that?” Pierre whispered quickly, his gaze firmly set on the ground in front of him. “I don’t get it. This wasn’t normal. Did you see Applejack’s face? Dash just started making those jokes, and all the others looked at her as if she had broken an unspoken rule, a… a taboo. Just like she said, they were all thinking it! Something about bicorns! Their lifestyle. Their status. What is it?”

“I’m going to be honest with you, I don’t have the slightest idea, but the longer we stay here, the more I realise this isn’t a cartoon anymore. We really might just be in over our heads, and we can’t do anything but sit here and bear it.” 

“That… that’s just...” Pierre gulped loudly, the corners of his lips falling downward. “You can’t mean that, Ed. YOU can’t mean that you want to just sit down and wait.”

“No, but WHAT else is there to do? We should be focused on getting home, not pony politics.”

“Right, right…” He lifted himself up into a standing position, though his gaze remained low and his voice, quiet. “We need to focus on a way back home...”

“In the meantime, just think of it as a unique experience. Which is almost an understatement, if you ask me.”

"I know I should be happy about this... I'm meeting Twilight, my favorite character. we're being treated around, a-and I feel ungrateful for overreacting, but..." His voice trailed off momentarily, and his gaze became distant. He stayed that way for a few more seconds, until he turned back toward Edward with a fearful look. "There's something so creepy at play here..."

“Agreed, though for now, I think it best that we don’t make ourselves out to be completely insane. It’s gonna be hard enough convincing them we’re human, don’t you think?”

“Yeah… let’s go back to apologize.” Pierre let out a deep breath, and started trotting back toward the restaurant with his friend in tow.

“Edward! Pierre!” 

The voice froze them in their track. 

From the same corner Edward had taken, Twilight came after them running, gasping for air as she finally spotted her two charges. 

“Please, let me apologize on behalf of Rainbow Dash.” She gave them both remorseful looks. “She certainly did not want to make fun of your species’ precarious situation. I doubt she really understands how important your role is. Or the kind of sacrifices that demands out of ponies like you. She was just being… Rainbow Dash.”

“Right, cause you truly speak for her, don’t you, Ms. Lorax?” Edward scoffed, regarding the mare with both contempt and tired understanding.

“Did you just…?” Pierre asked before shaking his head in exasperation. “Why do you expect anyone to take you seriously when you say things they cannot understand?”

Rolling his eyes, Ed couldn't help but snicker at the situation they faced and the confused look of the purple princess.“That’s simple, I don’t, but sometimes one must call out those who made a mistake, if she plans to speak on another’s behalf, then she will also pay the guilty’s toll. Is that not a fair consequence?” 

“Wow, you’re just so full of it.”

“Oh, do you have something to add?” the grey stallion questioned, glaring daggers at his rival.

“You two never stop bickering, do you? I thought Applejack and Rarity could be bad, but this is just… surreal.”  

“Sorry, Princess.” Pierre’s ears flattened against his skull. “It’s just… the nerves, we get snippy.”   

She winced.

“Again, I really need to say that Rainbow’s words were not malicious in the slightest. Though, I suppose that, since we have already jumped into the subject, I might as well ask you right away.” Twilight levitated her notepad out of her saddlebags and looked back at them seriously.“What do you two look for in a mare?”

“We are not looking for mares,” Edward said sternly. However, after a pause, his expression softened and a mischievous tone pierced through his voice. “Unless my friend here has been hiding his clopfics from me; in which case, I am only speaking for myself.”

“Hey! I’m not a clopper! They were humanized in that one occasion I… I’m just digging myself deeper, aren’t I?” 

“Like a true frog licking, poetry loving, baguette eating, snail slurping, coffee sipping, condescending, narcissistic wanker. Which in all honesty is quite amazing that you can juggle so much baggage at once,” Britain's favorite son retorted, barely holding his laughter back long enough to finish.  

“One day, Edward, I will pull out that amorphous red slug you call a tongue out of your stuffy little british mouth and use it to strangle you.”

At his friend's less than threatening chiding, the grey stallion could no longer hold back his mirth, and promptly fell to the ground writhing in laughter. “Hahahahaha, you’re killing me!”

Letting out a long suffering sigh, Pierre turned toward Twilight. “Princess, could you please break all of his legs for me?”  

Scoffing, Twilight shook her head in detest. “Absolutely not!” Her voice struck like a whip, with enough severity and indignation to make the two stallions wary. “Harming a bicorn is a very severe criminal offense!”

Edward’s laughter gradually came to an halt, and his eyebrows furrowed together. 

“O-oh?” Pierre asked quietly, and he leaned forward. Beneath that appearance of calm however, his blood had frozen in his veins. “And… how severe are we talking about, Princess?”

“The punishments range, in order of damage suffered, from a fine, years of community service to a small jail time.” 

And, while she dutifully listed the consequences, Twilight did not notice how both bicorns had sobered up. Their faces were devoid of humor, their traits had become as still as statues.

“Ah...” Pierre exclaimed slowly, sharing a look of worry with Edward. “I suppose it would be a terribly idea for me to strike him then...”

“Oh, you need not worry, Pierre,” she told him with a bemused smile. “The punishment for bicorns is much more lenient. In fact, it cannot go higher than a simple fine. The law wouldn’t be very smart if it protected the bicorns in some ways but harmed them in others, right?”

“Right,” he agreed stiffly, his eyes darting toward his friend. “And what is planned against bicorns that would abuse that leniency?” 

“Why, Pierre?” Edward drawled mockingly. “Planning on a robbery?” 

At that, Twilight must have admitted that she did not see the dark grin on the more polite bicorn’s face coming. Nor did she expect the frankly morbid reply. “Your liver is on the list, yes.” 

“Do you even have a buyer?” his friend deadpanned.

“I am certain I could find one. If not, then your pain will suffice.”

“Then, by all means, take it, that is if you can...you know with all that blood and such?”

Sensing yet another escalation in their bickering, Twilight rolled her eyes in exasperation. The thought to stop them with words briefly went through her mind, but she could see an exercise in futility when she saw one. With the two of them leaning toward one another, nostrils flaring and heads lowering, there was no way to appeal to rationality.     

Neither Edward nor Pierre appreciated the feeling of being lifted so suddenly, which was as if their hearts had jumped up their throats and their stomachs had been left in their hooves. The glimmering aura on their fur tickled, uncomfortably, similar to an urge they could not satisfy. They had no time to even question their sudden status as airborne ponies, the princess they had been ignoring grabbed their attention.

“Now, about your living arrangements for the time being...” Twilight said sternly, frowning at them like she would two misbehaving foals. “I have taken the liberty of securing a much more proper arrangement.”

“You… what?” Pierre blinked, weakly batting a hoof in a vain attempt to move closer to the ground. 

Seconds later, he, alongside Edward, got his wish. Painfully.

Twilight continued as if nothing happened, her horn lighting up once more, this time in synch with a roll of papers from her saddlebags. “Here, you will notice that I have already taken care of the legislature, the paperworks with the Mayor and the costs. I trust this will be to your likings.”   

Still rubbing the sore spot on his chest, Edward moved forward to take the levitating scroll and, with a little patience, managed to open it. 

It did not dawn on him right away, as the forms were quite different from what he was used to in his home country. Judging by the puzzled light that tainted Pierre’s gaze, of whom he could feel the breath on his shoulder, the Frenchie was not faring much better. 

However, after a few instants of careful reading, the truth hit him like a speeding train.

It seemed as if the open air was suddenly closing in on them, as if there was not enough to breath. His heartbeat accelerated to a maddening pace, and he felt all his previous fears come back with a vengeance. Already, he could see the gears turning behind his friend’s eyes, and they expressed a similar worry. Regardless of her intent, Twilight had truly just showed them how bad things were.

She had bought them a house.


> La Goutte
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

He had long since started to drone out the insipid drivel spoonfed to their group. Tourists traps were all the same in his opinion, even those that held genuinely interesting relics of the past. How, he asked himself, how could they make it so dreadfully dull?

“Kill me...” Edward groaned.

“Tempting but shut up,” Pierre hissed, so entirely focused on the lectures given. “I’m listening!”

“How can you listen to this garbage?” Ed mumbled without checking if Pierre had heard him. Instead, he scanned the ancient walkway. Noticing a small side path coming up, Ed started slowly veering toward it.

Trying to salvage what little he could of his sanity, he took the only opportunity he saw to get away from this boring affair. Unseen by either the guide or Pierre, he slipped into the passage, ignoring the signs, and stood with his back against the wall. Finally, he could breath a sigh of relief. 

And, as his eyes went to his surroundings, he found himself speechless. Without the constant flow of repeated, artificially peppy words, the true majesty of the constructions could finally speak for itself. Rays of light filtered through the holes within the ceiling and shone upon the ruins, piercing the curtain of shadows stretching through the hallway. Particles of dust floated in the air, added density and weight to it. Walking slowly, he distanced himself from the wall and entered the open space. The marble was grey with dust and dirt, but far from detracting from the effect, it simply added a layer of authenticity to the ruins.

Edward grinned. This was what he had come to see. Treasures of mankind’s past! Had it been too much to ask to be able to observe and appreciate it on his own terms? 

...Judging by the rapid footsteps echoing in the hallway, yes, yes it was. 

“Mais, bordel!” Pierre, of course, it was Pierre. “What are you doing?! We’re supposed to stay with the tour guide! Those are ruins you’re carelessly striding in! An international treasure of humanity!” 

Edward barely seemed to register his friend’s complaint as he refocused his bleary gaze on the wall in front of him. It seemed... different from its ancient stone brethren. From the tip of his fingers, it translated, not into something smooth and even like marble, but rougher, cruder. Whereas their surroundings were artistic, this felt like a pale imitation.

Out of curiosity, grinning at the growing fury of his friend, he gave a tentative push to the stone closest to the hole. To his surprise, he felt much less resistance than he expected. Was this part hollow? Before he could stop it, the thought, however absurd, crossed his mind. Surely, someone would have noticed before... “A treasure with a secret compartment it looks like.”

Pierre’s gaze went back and forth between the breach and his companion, once, twice, three times, before his hand met with his face.

Huffing he replaced his look of confusion with one of contempt. “I swear that I’m going to strangle you if you damaged this place!”

“Oh come now, I doubt finding a secret passage counts as destruction. It’s more like discovery, don’t you think?”

At once, as if they were dealing with castles of cards, the stones crumbled and fell down with a great rumble. Both of them jumped back, their gaze transfixed by the spectacle offered to their eyes only. 

Behind the rubble that now lay at their feet, was a dark stairwell descending into what could only be a secret chamber, long since lost to time. The two could only look in shock and awe at the discovery they had stumbled upon. 

“That’s…” Pierre swallowed, unable to process the events that had unfolded. His face retreating once again to that of shock and disbelief.  

“I believe there is an all too real chance we just discovered a whole new crypt in this brilliant old relic.” Ed smirked, elbowing his now flabbergasted friend. “Come, let’s go see what we found.”

At that precise moment, Pierre’s expression seemed to hover between extreme excitement and caution. 

“We shouldn’t...” he said without conviction. “Let’s contact someone, and have them take a look, with proper equipment a-and-”

“Don’t be stupid, it’s not everyday someone finds a secret passage in a thousand year old monument.” 

Getting no response from his comrade, Ed shrugged nonchalantly before fishing through his pockets. Finding his cellphone, he smiled and pointed it ahead of him, using its screen as a makeshift torch. Blue light shone down over the stairs, stretching the shadows further away from them. He hesitated not any longer, taking to the path, and the second light that came behind him indicated that Pierre had been won over as quickly. They started their descents in the unknown.

The air was dry, dusty. Though the darkness made them imagine it damp, the staircase lead them only through a poorly lit path underground. More than once, one imagined the walls would close in, or a step would give in, but neither became true. Only their minds told them so.

After a time they could not conceive, Edward’s foot came down on a different surface. The echoed came, too short in contrast with all those before. The walls no longer closed in on him, they were so apart he could not touch them. Dazed, he stepped forward, hearing Pierre’s breath hitch up behind him. There was a note of pure amazement in that simple sound. Together, they lifted their phones high and shone light on a place that hadn’t seen it for thousands of years. 

Fascinated, both young men gazed at the spectacle before them. There were scriptures on the walls of ancient creatures with claws and too many heads, chasing around more familiar animals and even humans. It circled the room, or at least gave that impression in the light of their phones. The images disappeared in the shadows, behind vases, urns, and even lances held by statues. 

And at the very edges of the illumination stood one large shape that stared ominously at them from the shadows.

“What… is that?”
--

Heavy silence had fallen over the room. If one strained their ears, they could barely make out the incessant ticking of a cuckoo clock, somewhere in the kitchen. 

They paid it no mind. Their thoughts were elsewhere, toward much more worrying and pressing matters. The visiting had gone by in the blink of an eye, the instructions had been half droned away. They really had had no idea how to react to that. At some point, they had asked to sit down.

She had left some time ago with a smile, assuming that their lack of words were out of some sort of deference or gratitude. They hadn’t moved from their spots in the living room ever since. Gray and maroon on a background of overly bright green. An absolute eyesore neither noticed. 

From their positions on the ground, they simply contemplated what to do from here, each having vastly different results from their inner revelations.

Abruptly, Pierre stood up, almost losing his balance for a second. Once he was stabilized, he headed to the kitchen, a cross look in his eyes.

Edward did not fail to notice, but he only followed his friend’s progression with his gaze, calling after him,“What exactly are you doing, Mr. Mime?”

The maroon bicorn didn’t slow down. 

“I’m trying to cook something up…” At the incredulous snort that then came in reply, Pierre only mumbled more frantic words. “I can’t just lie around anymore. I have to do something. Anything.”

Arrived at his destination, he shot a curious look at their kitchen. He didn’t mind the somewhat traditional style it had, what’s with the various wooden cupboards, counters and pantries. There were just some little details that made sense, for a pony. Things looks much smaller, closer to the ground, and the knobs were much wider.  

Shaking his head, Pierre stepped inside and resolved to actually cook. He stood on his hind legs, then went for the first thing he saw. After many clumsy attempts, the cupboards swung open, and their contents were laid bare to him. A variety of scents filled his nostrils, with a much greater strength than he was used to. He had to stop his mouth from watering, in some occasions at the smell of plants a human would - should - turn down. He twitched away from those ingredients, grabbing as well as he could the ones he was more familiar with. They weren’t as many as he would have liked. Obviously, the groceries had already been done, which seemed both a gift and a small condescension. 

No matter, he just wanted to cook.

Something simple, something easy, just to be able to go through the motions and not have to think too hard on their situations. Cutting and dicing, grilling a little, so as to retain his attention…

Finally, he settled on a grilled eggplant, rationalizing that he had always liked them, and that this was not a new penchant or any other signs of being an herbivore. His hoof hovered just inches away from the kitchen knife, a light of worry suddenly appearing in his gaze. He shook his head, telling himself that he was being too cautious, too cowardly as Ed would put it. So he grabbed the knife and applied himself to cutting the long purple veggie. 

It wasn’t as easy as it should be. Perhaps it was the lack of balance, how his body could not remain standing without always leaning forward to a normal quadruped position; perhaps it was just the lack of fingers, those stubby hooves had no dexterity. Regardless of the determining factor, Pierre felt his grip slip.

With a yelp, he tumbled, sliding down the side of the counter, sensing his hold of the knife loosen and losing sight of it. In that moment, the clatter of metal against the hard surface seemed too loud, and light scattered as if reflected on a twisted mirror. Pierre’s pupils shrank down as the kitchen knife bounced off the cutting board and fell over to his side. 

A loud string of French expletives rang through the house.

The knife was half-stuck into the floor, oscillating on its blade inches away from the tip of Pierre’s tail.

His heart beating madly in his chest, he twisted around, curled away as far as possible from the edge of the knife, and got himself up. Glancing at the subpar ingredients he had painstakingly managed to prepare, Pierre deflated. Back home, he’d have never accepted such a botched up job. He wasn’t going to do so now… 

With a disheartened sigh, the French stallion returned to the living room, where his friend had heard most of his antics with a grumble of disappointment. His half-hearted glare did not impress, nor was it truly meant to. Ears drooped down, Pierre dropped down on his haunches. This hadn’t worked well at all… and he had actually been a pretty good cook, before… 

There were no words to express his disarray. He felt stripped of his skills, of his body, left naked and vulnerable in a stormy sea, with only another lost naufrager for company. What did they have to face this? Nothing came to mind, just a wide and ungraspable blank. 

And steadily, they fell deeper into a pensive state of mind, the mystery only half unfolded. The pieces were just out of their reach, so close to them yet so far, though there was also the lingering impression that perhaps they did not want to. 

Until finally the silence that was between them became too heavy and he addressed the elephant in the living room, “She… is not going to help us get back home, is she?”

Taking a deep breath Edward shook his head dismally. “At this rate, most likely not. It seems she either doesn’t believe our story, or she’s in denial but either way, it’s going to take more than words to get through to her.”

Slowly, Pierre closed his eyes, looking thoroughly frightened. His voice trembled. “How long do you think we will be stuck here?”  

The following question ‘Forever?’ floated between them, unspoken.

“Depends on how long we’re blown off and treated as infants who need a nanny. Once that stops, I'd say not too long.”   

“Oh come on…” Pierre protested weakly, avoiding his friend’s gaze. “It’s not really like that. She’s just... looking out for us.”

“Looking out for us?” Edward snorted derisively. “At this point, I’m surprised she hasn’t baby proofed the house. ”

There was a scraping noise, compelling him to turn around and find its source. And find he did. One maroon hoof tapped to the ground, the French bicorn looked strangely wishful. Edward’s reply had apparently been thought provoking, though to which Pierre could only ask timidly, “Is it so... foolish to believe she just cares?”

“What?” Edward blinked. “Surely, you’re not… Don’t tell me it makes you happy...”

To his amusement, his companion looked away in embarrassment, his cheeks turning an even brighter shade of red. 

Pointing at the flustered frenchmen, Edward smirked, a devious glint sparking in his gaze.“I knew it, you are a clopper! I always had my suspicions, glad to know my instincts are as sharp as ever.” 

“You’re wrong, I’m telling you, crétin, that I’m not. It’s just...” Pierre sighed. “Well, Twilight was always my favorite member of the Mane Six, so her attention’s kinda flattering, c’est tout...”

“I suggest taking a deep breath, we all have urges from time to time. Heh, bow chicka bow wow!”

“Shut up, besides, it’s not as if you’re out of the hot water just yet either!” A reddish hoof poked Edward’s chest. “She asked for your preferences too. Clearly, your winning personality must have seduced her.”

“Of course it did, just look at who you’re talking to. My friend, I am without a doubt the greatest man to ever live,” Ed boasted, waving his forelegs in an over exaggerated flurry.

One eye twitching, Pierre decided to put his new form to good use and started hitting the wall with his head. With each resounding impact, he almost regretted not feeling enough pain to forget ever talking to Edward. If, during that time, there were british quips aimed at him for his actions, he did not register them, too taken by the simple desire to erase the last five minutes of his life. “What a stupid backwards day. You think you’re a great man, and Twilight looking into both our tastes.”

“Silly frenchie, I don’t think I’m a great man, I know I am, and secondly Twilight’s inquiry to what we look for in a lover is a bit...concerning, and a tad...forward if you ask me,” Edward retorted, rolling his eyes at the notion of Twilight’s possible affections. “I mean she can’t have us both. Unless she’s trying to start her personal harem. Do you think they have those in this version of Equestria?” 

Pierre blinked. “I… do you? I mean, what would it mean for us?” 

“I really want to avoid thinking about it too deeply, but from what she’s told us, it’s pretty obvious that in the end we’re always bottoms.” Edward sighed, rubbing his forehead with one of his hooves.  

“I don’t like that phrasing...”

“Heh, you wouldn’t. For someone who speaks the language of love, you really are a bit too reserved. If I were a wiser man, I’d assume it was some sort of reaction to repressed events from your younger years, but that’s just me.” Shaking his head, Ed walked past his friend and toward a nearby window. “All jokes aside, what life would that even be? Hell, I’m not even sure what life is expected for us, period.”   

Yet, even as he said it, he already could hear their voices and their words. Making sacrifices… buck and raise...The never ending cycle….

If it came down to that, would they conform? Did they even have a choice to begin with?

His heart speeding within his chest, Pierre’s spiral into darkness ended in a burst of fear. “We need to find out more about this.”

One thing he knew for sure was that he did not like it in the slightest. 

--

It was, all things considered, a nice and cozy little neighborhood. Peaceful, if such a thing existed in Ponyville, and out of the way of the main street. Houses had been built at a comfortable distance from one another, and although they share a certain style, this one’s façade was a unusual - though pleasant - shade of orange. At the front, a row of flower beds sent a nice fragrance through the air, something that made it easier to wait next to the bright red wooden door.

The very same door that opened up to let out a peeking grey bicorn’s head. One whose expression turned grim at the sight of a certain guardpony. “Huh, and here we were under the impression we would not have a tin can following us today.”

“Princess Twilight has temporarily requested I stand guard for some time.” Officer Chainmail glanced at the two stallions while they left the house, shifting in his position to place himself in their path.

“Why am I not surprised?” Pierre sighed, his eyes going to the ground.

“...We are allowed to take another walk in town, right?”

The reply came shortly, spoken stiffly with a nod. “As long as you are escorted, yes.”

A look of great anger passed over Edward’s face, as his eyes narrowed and his lips almost curled into a snarl. His whole body tense, Pierre could have sworn he would punch their bodyguard in the face and things would devolve in a blur of grey and orange. 

His tone deadly cold, the British bicorn only growled, “That’s fine, I always enjoy feeling like a criminal when I take a walk.”

Taking notice of his charges rather hostile reaction, the guard merely stood silent not wanting to agitate the stallion any further.

With a huff, Edward went past him, quickly followed by a wary Pierre. Barely seconds later, Bronze Chainmail’s hoofsteps resonated behind them. The sound, albeit only different from the weight a musclebound guard had, racked at their nerves. It was just an obvious reminder of everything they had started to fear. As such, it was not surprising that they pretended not to notice and looked to their surroundings with impressive attention instead.   

But, after every corner they took, every street they trotted on, an unusual detail started to stand out.

“Hey, Edward...” Pierre whispered, looking a little worried. “Is it just me or there aren’t many ponies around?”

And indeed, though there were some ponies walking to their own affairs, the streets felt strangely barren. Even with as few memories of the town he had, Edward found the difference notable. “Perhaps they’re just home, or at work. It’s not like we have any idea if this a work day or a weekend. Assuming ponies have those to begin with.”

There was a dismissive wave, and that was the end of that. Their chaperone himself had not commented on the issue, so it could reasonably be just a bout of paranoia. Still, mayhaps subconsciously, they accelerated, lingering as little as possible through the town. In no time, they were back at the library. 

They knocked thrice, a little loudly because of their poor coordination, yet nopony or nodrake came to answer. All three stallions stood in front of the wooden door awkwardly, waiting for some sort of sign. 

“Say,” Edward pondered, massaging his forehead in annoyance, “is the library supposed to be closed right now?”

“As Princess Twilight is the leader of the Elements of Harmony, the library might be closed on short notice with no explanation.” The guard shrugged. “That might be the reason for it.”

“Just great...”

“And there is no way to know where she went?” Pierre asked, optimistically. 

“I’m afraid not,” the officer replied with a shake of his head.

With no further ideas, they resolved to go ‘home’. 

--

They sky over the horizon was turning orange by the time Pierre put his hoof on the doorknob to their new house. Without ceremony, he pushed it open and entered, followed by Edward. 

Instantly, the two stallions realized that something was amiss. 

They had only taken a few steps into the hallway that they could barely see in front of themselves. How could it be so dark in here? Though the sun was setting, there should still be plenty of lights to see. They hadn’t even closed the curtains when they left... 

Looking down, they noticed that even their own bodies were difficult to see, as even the light pouring from outside shrunk. The door had closed. In the following seconds, Edward’s ears perked up with the noise of shuffling around, even something strangely similar to hoofsteps. 

Wait… he recognized that scenario. There was only one possibility, and it seemed his suspicions were confirmed when he heard the click of a light switch. Bracing himself, ears flattening against his skull, he half expected to be blown off his hooves from the sheer volume. 

The house was filled with light, and in that split second, a few dozens of ponies spoke in unison.

“Surprise.”

Silence filled the room.

The two bicorns were left blinking, awkwardly looking at the crowd of ponies that had whispered the word to them.

“Well, that was kind of… underwhelming,” Pierre replied with a hoof scratching the back of his head.

“Try just plain sad,” Edward scoffed. “I’ve seen mutes who can shout louder than that, how pathetic.”

The crowd’s good mood seemed to deflate slightly from the brit’s blunt narration. Many looked away from the guests of honor, yet very few seemed actually angry at the stallion’s ungrateful attitude. If anything, a wave of unease rippled throughout the party goers, leaving the room in a state of awkward disarray.

A fact toward which Pierre was growing increasingly conscious of. “Non, non, c’était… I mean, it was alright. Just that, normally, the volume is a tad higher than this.”   

There was a movement from the assembled ponies, as they parted open and a familiar mare stumbled over. “Oh, we couldn’t risk startling you so badly!” Fluttershy exclaimed almost loudly, to their surprise. Her caretaking instincts had apparently overcame her shyness, as she continued with a tender smile for them, “That would have been irresponsible.”

“Yes…” Edward replied slowly. “Because fun is truly a deadly force indeed. Every party has a pooper...but this is just ridiculous.”

Hurt by the obvious displeasure, the poor mare flinched. A blush started to cover her face, and suddenly her courage was faltering. “We were hoping… ” she squeaked, “just have fun!”

“Huh, listen, I’m not trying to hurt your feelings, but there is no arguing the reception was rather weak,” Edward tried to explain, only to realise his target in question had already disappeared into the crowd of guests. He’d have tried finding her, but between the wide variety of colors sported by the many ponies, going from dark grey to light beige, Fluttershy did not truly stand out.

And while the crowd began to disperse through the house, a reddish hoof fell on his shoulder. “Well, it should do us good to relax a bit, Ed,” Pierre said with a tentative smile. “Let’s try to enjoy ourselves.”

There was something impressive with how much work had gone into the decorations. They could barely recognize the living room that they had first seen a few hours ago. The streamers, the balloons, the confettis; they all combined into a complete makeover of the relatively limited space to make it lively. 

Most of the guests seemed to think so, from what they could gather out of the many compliments and comments they got on their lovely home. Everypony seemed to have something to say to them, it was nuts. Questions after questions came about their origins and their accents, then about themselves in general. To those, Edward strove to answer with quick, blunt, and honest answers. Yet each time, it was apparent that the others only nodded out of indulgence. However, nothing made the two cringe more than a mare that had taken Pierre’s hoof to praise his courage.

When it came to the other stallions though, there was always a hint of something… different. Their comments had the same content – congratulations and the likes –, but never quite felt quite as sincere. One could have sworn there was a hint of disdain behind those smiles. 

At some point, Pierre had simply came out and asked the nearest guest where the bowl of (hopefully alcohol) punch was. The mare in question, a beige earth pony with a red and pink mane, started sputtering as if he had propositioned to her. Between two coughs, she reluctantly pointed toward the table the refreshments were at. Gently, he patted her back until her breathing was back to normal, and with a smile, he headed in the direction she had pointed with Edward.

Upon their arrival, they joined the concession of other partygoers seeking to clench their thirst. Tellingly, there was easily a third of the attendees gathered around that long red table. Laughters floated in the air, and the ponies all seemed content. 

But, as Pierre trotted forward, he inadvertently pushed one stallion. “Sorry,” he said, and others suddenly realized that the bicorns were there. 

Noise died out near the table, as ponies exchanged concerned gazes with one another and coughed in their hooves in embarrassment. Pierre instinctively tried to back away, feeling the part of an intruder. And the logic boggled his mind. Wasn’t this supposed to be their welcoming party? Why the fuss then?

Hesitant, he looked back to Edward, who appeared primely unimpressed. “We can always make tea in the kitchen if you’re that chicken, frenchie.”

A low grunt rising from his throat, Pierre turned, and saw with horror that the other ponies seemed to approve strongly. Deciding with a mental bout of swearing to just ignore them all, he reached through the small wall of ponies for a cup, only to meet Colgate’s gaze. As if shocked out of her daze, she opened her mouth, her blue hoof posed for him to stop, but ultimately no sound came out. 

With his cup firmly held in his hooves, none of them dared vocalize their thoughts. Grimly satisfied, Pierre made a point to down the punch and fill it again. From Edward’s direction came a muffled chortled of laughter, and this time, the French bicorn took it in stride. Pridefully, they left those guests to their own device.

Eventually, they settled in their own little corner, weathering through the event as well as they could.

“Shame there’s so little alcohol in the punch,” Pierre said, taking another sip from his cup. Though the taste in itself was fine, if a little too sweet for his taste, he found himself regretting the comforting warmth of a good vintage.

At his side, it seemed as if similar thoughts went through Edward’s mind as he did not partake in the punch at all. “Had I known this was a ‘bring your beer’ kind of party, I would have looked around town for a brewery.”

His reply made Pierre snort in bitter amusement. “You think they would have let us buy any?”

“Who said anything about buying? With how lenient the law is, I’d just walk out with it.”

This time, Pierre’s reaction was to narrow his eyes at him. A joking gesture, most likely, but there was just enough suspicion behind that gaze to annoy him, slightly. The Frenchie would never really get under his skin. 

“Not that I would. I’m no common thief, have some faith, my friend.”

Before he could express further defense of his honor, they were interrupted. Loudly.

“Hey! The stallions of the hour!” came a slurred exclamation. 

Surprised, both bicorns turned in direction of the near shout, only to realize that for some ponies at least, the party was well underway. 

Tipsy, cheeks reddened and his eyes half glazed over by the effect of alcohol, Caramel put a hoof around their necks. “Those are my stallions!” He laughed. “Oh Celestia’s sweet flanks, you two are sooooooo lucky, you know that? What I wouldn’t give to be a bicorn.”

“Oh, allez, mon pote, don’t say that,” Pierre said, trying to push him away gently. “It’s not like we’re better than you.”

“Sure have it better though...” they heard. 

Without them noticing, Thunderlane had come close enough to hear every word. And a bitter grimace was stretched unto his face.

Edward’s muzzle scrunched up at the open hostility displayed. “What was that?”

“Oh, nothing, nothing.” The dark stallion mockingly waved a hoof in front of himself. “Wouldn’t want to bother one of you little dolls. That’d be terrible, right?”

“Listen you shit-faced wanka, if you got something to say, then bloody say it. I’m more than enough ‘stallion’ to put your feathered butt on the ground.” Ed snorted, slowly closing the distance between him and his antagonizer. 

Thunderlane rose to the challenge. The two stallions glared daggers at one another, muzzles only a few feet of distance apart. Edward’s head lowered, his horns suddenly seeming much more threatening. Thunderlane’s feathers shivered, and he became more imposing. One gray hoof pawed at the ground, then one black one did the same. 

But the tension was broken when Caramel drunkenly staggered between them and passed one leg around each their necks. The smell of alcohol came in unpleasant strength from his breath, making them scrunch up their muzzles. More fidgety than aggressive now, they tried to untangle themselves from him, but he was rather tenacious.

“What’s up, Thunderlane?” the brown earth pony asked, half grinning. “Your marefriend’s pissed with you again?”

“Shut up, Caramel!” Thunderlane growled, a faint darker color creeping on his face.

“Jealous they get tails?”

For a second, the pegasus seemed to shake with anger, his mouth twisted in a snarl. He loomed over Caramel, butting head with him and almost rearing. Yet, just as it had become clear things might come to blows, Thunderlane relaxed. His wings folded, a deep breath left his lips, and he closed his eyes. With a scoff and a curse, he trotted away, soon followed by Caramel who didn’t seem all that aware of where he was anymore. 

Pierre and Edward exchanged a baffled look. 

First Rainbow Dash, now this? What is it with bicorns? Are we extremely desirable or something?

“That.. wasn’t very pleasant.”

“No, and I have a feeling that’s linked to the rest of this bollocks we’ve been getting about being half-goats,” Edward growled, feeling his mood plummeting with every minute he spent at this terrible imitation of a party. And such sentiment grew stronger with the sight of a familiar mare.“Speaking of bollocks, here comes the queen of bollocks herself.”

“Ah! You’re here!” Their ‘favorite’ alicorn exclaimed with relief. “I’ve been looking for the chance to talk to you two on your own all evening long. You're certainly popular!”

Twilight’s arrival brought a jaded grin to Edward’s face and, to his surprise, Pierre found himself in agreement with the sentiment. Though he did not quite blame her, he had come to associate her somewhat innocent comments as preludes to much more sinister things. 

“See, I know it’s not the perfect occasion to tell you this, but I fear I would not have the time to do this at all.”

The two stallions merely exchanged a quick glance of shared confusion before they turned back to Twilight and signaled for her to continue. They hoped that at the very least it would hold some semblance at helping the turmoil they’d been in since they’d arrived. They however were not ready for what came next.

“I know, I know, this is pure speculation,” she explained sheepishly even as she offered them small documents. “But you weren’t exactly forthcoming with the information I needed, so I had to make due. Emmm… t-there is a tendency for stallions in your age group to look forward to herds rather than the donation centers.”

They felt a heavy stone fall into their stomachs. The way she was speaking… No, there was just no way… It couldn’t be like that. Obviously, this was simply an awkward attempt at telling them to enjoy Ponyville while it lasted. 

The documents, though official, were simply the… the personal information… of two mares...

“In any case,” Twilight continued dutifully in spite of her reddened cheeks, “I’ve looked through the profiles available and found two mares that seem to be compatible with you. I’ve already arranged the dates, no need to worry, everything is taken care of, you only need to wait until tomorrow.”

Had their bodies not been nailed in place by fear, they would have throttled her. 

> Forked Road
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

For a moment, they stood still, frozen by the sight of a large creature in the shadows looking directly at them. 

And large it was. Though they could only see the edges of its form, it was readily apparent that it was easily as tall as a man, and much more imposing. Its head had to be as long as their forearms, doubtlessly its mouth could open much wider. And the light reflected at least one beady eye transfixed on their frozen figures, as if it debated eating them.

But seconds stretched, and the creature remained as still as it had always been. Then more questions came to them, as the inevitability of death moved further away. If it was so big, how could it live in this place without starving or dying of thirst? How could it even survive? 

No, it didn’t make sense.

Hesitantly, they took a step closer and both men realized how much the darkness had played with their minds. 

“Eh, just a statue,” Pierre said with a confident smile, though his shaken tone implied otherwise. “Of a pretty creepy looking horse, but still, a harmless statue.” 

“And since when do horses have horns?”  Edward deadpanned, moving his phone to illuminate better the top of the statue’s head.

Curious, Pierre took a few steps left and could thus see that his friend had been right. Atop the horse’s head, popping from under its stony mane, were two curled-up horns.

Taking this new information in, he paused for a few seconds. With a shrug, he turned to his british companion. “Well, technically, since Antiquity. The ancient Greeks believed that unicorns were actual animals. They’re not even part of the mythological texts we have, just the accounts of fauna.”

“Are you blind?” Edward asked in a deeply sarcastic tone. “That’s no unicorn.”

“Maybe the artist saw them this way. Like the idea of telling a blind man to draw an animal on descriptions alone. I guess that a ‘horned horse’ was the thing they told the sculptor and that’s what he did. As for the shape... Well, what horned animals are more common in Greece than goats?” he explained with a simple shrug.

Then, his eyes went to his friend, whose shape was half hidden by the shadows of the crypt. There was no telling what thoughts were brewing inside his head, and his following question was only answered with one thing. 

Bitter silence. 

Proof that he had accepted, reluctantly, Pierre’s arguments and conceded. 

“You know,” Edward said suddenly, striding between a few priceless artefacts then looking back at the statue, “for a hidden cache of ancient secrets, this stuff is...kind of strange?”

“Be careful,” Pierre told him, while he pointed his phone toward the ground. “There could be snakes or other venomous critters in this place.”

There was an annoyed retort. “I’m not oblivious, Frenchie.” 

“I wasn’t…  Oh, just get bitten for all I-” 

The words died out in the crypt without an echo, cut short as if strangled. Curious, Edward glanced back, an inquiry just about ready to be asked. However, when he did see him, he realized that it wouldn’t have been answered anyway. The French brony was staring at the statue silently, with a fascination beyond that of anything he had ever seen before.He was almost in a trance, his gaze locked with the unmoving creature’s. 

Light danced over the horse’s eyes, but it was not coming from either of their phones. 

Edward felt the blood drain from his face. This was not normal at all. Stories, old stupid stories about cursed tombs and dying explorators came to mind and he could only see Pierre, staring as if possessed. 

Mechanically, Pierre stretched his arm forward.

“Wait! Don’t touch it!” Edward shouted.

And, as one clenched a hand around the other’s arm, the tip of Pierre’s fingers made contact with the marble statue.

There was light, pain, then darkness over them.


--


It should have been quiet. Somehow, the world should have changed to fit it, to make the whole party as deadly silent as they could only imagine it. The words and laughters of the guests didn’t reach their ears. They moved while the two were frozen. The music was a distant, muffled beat so far away it was surely at another house. The pulse of blood in their veins alone was a much louder sound. 

It had to be a joke. A prank played in bad taste to break the ice between them. But even when they prayed for this to be the right answer, neither could find themselves believing it.

And, at once, their thralls was broken. Everything came to life again when one gray bicorn mustered his voice.

"No,” Edward spat, his front hooves falling down in a frustrated stomp. “Not in a million years, I have no intent of seeking love while I'm stuck here."

The young princess only sighed sadly, briefly closing her eyes. Of course, she had seen an objection of the sort coming. For them to still be celibate, there had to be a reason, and she had an inkling of an idea as to what that could be. So, Twilight did her very best to sound patient and understand, "Edward, a bicorn stallion of your age should be well on his way to a happy well-rounded herd."

"Not gonna happen, Princess,” he growled and blew hot air out of his nostrils. “Pierre might go along with it, but I want nothing to do with this farce, especially if I'm not even given the dignity of choosing my own mate."

"I did offer a chance to give input, but you chose to ignore me!" Twilight protested, her face slowly turning red.

"Of course I did, just like you ignored us when we explained where we were from."

She reeled back, as if he had hit her. "B-but that has nothing to do with this at all...besides I didn't ignore you, I listened to your story in full!"

"Yet, here we stand, no closer to getting home. Instead, we have you trying to set us up on dates. You’re not trying to help us at all." And he pointed his hoof in accusation. 

Slightly behind his british companion, Pierre glanced thoughtfully at them both. Edward, clearly on the verge saying things they would regret, and Twilight, aghast, blinking slowly.

At that moment, a thought struck him.Truly, he shouldn’t. Why would he? Maybe because he felt it would help them, or it was just foolishness and perhaps seeing Twilight Sparkle so disappointed made his chest ache. He shouldn’t, but already knew his decision had been made the second he had felt the guilt tighten his throat in a knot. Mentally calling himself an idiot, he raised his voice.

“Euh, you know, if it’s already arranged...” he started, swallowing back his fear. “Well, perhaps I could… I mean, that doesn’t bind me to anything, right? It’s only a date.”

The look Edward gave him… At best, it could be seen as begrudging concern about the amount of alcohol in his bloodstream. At worst, it was more akin to sheer bafflement and questionable sanity.

Not that Twilight cared to comment on that, too happy that one of them had chosen to be cooperative. “Of course, Pierre,” she said with a smile. “I chose the most compatible partner with the information at my disposal, but ultimately the choice will belong to you both.” 

“Though that doesn’t solve the other problem. One of them is going to be dateless, because I’m not going.”

Twilight bit her lips, forcing herself not to show her annoyance through a scowl. Edward had spoken with a tone of finality. With just the sample experiences of the last two days, she could tell convincing him to not let all her work go to waste would be hellish.

Looking strangely pale, Pierre spoke up again. “...Just let me meet both. We’re supposed to start herds anyway, aren’t we?”

And he applauded himself for saying it with a straight face.

By this point, Edward seemed almost scared. Had Pierre lost his mind entirely? “What is wrong with you?” he asked in a hushed whisper.

“Nothing, just let me handle this,” the French stallion replied just as swiftly.

"Well,” Twilight said with a pensive look, “...the mare chosen for Edward would very likely be incompatible with you, Pierre, so I thank you for your kindness, but I'll simply rework this one."

For a moment, it seemed as if the last of a small light had died out in his eyes. He shook his head head sadly, refusing to meet anypony’s gaze. Then he spoke a few words, quietly enough that it was doubtful either Edward or Twilight heard, “I see, so we truly have no say in it whatsoever.”  

Placing a hoof over his mouth, he took an unsteady breath and fought an all too real nausea. “I think the alcohol is finally getting to me. I’ll go get some rest upstairs.”

This time, Twilight’s gaze held concern and then worry, when Pierre insisted that he was only tired. She surprisingly listened, leaving him to make his way through the partying crowd with naught but his own dulled senses.

“Should never have let him take any punch,” Edward grumbled under his breath.

“He’s right, you know?” Twilight said, ignoring the comment. “I don’t understand why you would reject the selected mare without even meeting her. She would be a great partner for you.”

“Why am I not surprised? The princess somehow knows exactly what kind of girl we’d like...after knowing us for what, two days?”

“Technically less than that,” Twilight admitted slowly, annoyance creeping into her tone, “but I already had comparative charts that allowed me to crosscheck certain traits in the registers we have.”

“You don’t know the first thing about us, so even those charts would be useless. If you know us so well, then what’s my favorite food, or Pierre’s favorite music? What are our hobbies, what things do we hate? If you know us so well, surely these questions should roll right off the tongue right?”

Twilight bristled. “You are only asking questions you believe I cannot answer to confirm what you think!”

“That really doesn’t answer my question, now does it?” Ed pondered, rubbing his chin, a condescending smirk upon his lip. 

Twilight let out a growl of annoyance. “In the end, those questions don’t even matter; I might not know every single detail about your lives, but I did my best. It’s ultimately more important that I came to a rational decision on a fair and compatible mate than looking for a perfect special somepony.” Regaining a bit of composure, she let out a long breath. “I’m sorry if you don’t agree with my choice, but it was the best I could do on such short notice.”

“Be that as it may, choosing a mate for us at all is the issue, you have no right to deem who we should love. I bet Cadence would be ashamed at you trying to force this on anypony.”

“I have this right, Edward! Love is not the issue here! You can’t not know that!”

“When it comes to you, I never know what is going through your head.”

Her eyes going wide, Twilight stuttered in indignation, a sneer escaping her control while she tried not to shout at this utterly unreasonable bicorn. Half-formed words died on her lips as her eyes started twitching. With an exclamation of frustration, she turned around and left as quickly as possible.

Smirking, Edward looked at her go, right up to the point where she became indistinguishable within the mass of ponies. Then, his eyes went to the stairs and where his friend had disappeared to. His smirk slipped off.

Giving a long sigh of his own, the brash brit made his way up, his rage still churning within his gut. He hoped that perhaps finding and talking to his companion might help, at least a little.


--


It did not.

“Well, that could have gone worse.” Pierre hummed, tiredly rubbing his forehead with both of his hooves.

“Yeah, you would say that, you lustful baguette polisher!” Edward seethed, still enraged by the prior engagement with who he was beginning to view as the absolute most infuriating individual he had ever met.

“Get out of my face, Edward!” Pierre pushed him off, his tone more heated than what he had accustomed him to. “I know what I agreed to!”

“Do you, do you really?” Edward asked, still far from convinced.

Pierre looked at him straight in the eyes. He did not break eye contact, nor did he seem particularly ashamed of giving in to whatever madness had possessed him. With a very levelled voice, he started explaining, “I agreed to a date with a mare. A bicorn mare, in case you didn’t notice it on your file while you were busy yelling.”

“I’m more than aware of who you are humoring,” the brit retorted, matching his friend's gaze with one of his own. “My issue is with how that has in precedence here?”

“If there is anyone in this town that can tell us everything that we need to know, it’d be another bicorn, don’t you think? I’m getting really sick of having those things sprung on me every time we get a little comfortable. At the very least, I don’t think I’ll be snubbed by a bicorn mare.”

“Even so, you are only allowing Twilight to continue her ludicrous behavior!”

“...Do you think she’d stop either way?” Pierre whispered. “I offered to go on a date with both and she prevented me from trying.”

“If we fight, then we can bring about change, surrender is nothing but a blessing of consent in her eyes.” 

“I’m not going to give her anything, Ed. I’m finding out the whole story, then we can decide exactly what we need to do.”

“If you wanted information, the herald of our misery lives in a library. Did you ever think of looking there?”

“I have trouble stomaching her presence at this point. I’m sure she’d monitor us so we don’t find the wrong things.”

“Wow, you’ve finally stopped looking at her in those rose glasses of yours, huh?”

Quietly, Pierre pawed at the ground. “...Yeah, I did.”

It did not feel like a victory to either of them.

Sighing, the exhausted Edward could do nothing but watch as his companion exited the room leaving him to his own thoughts. I have no idea why you are so determined to be pulled along on this ridiculous charade, but I hope you know what you’re doing. Shaking off his depressing thoughts, Ed decided to retire for the night. If anything, a good night’s sleep would help him collect his thoughts.

His head swimming with the possibilities and the worst scenarios, he lowered himself on his new bed and closed his eyes. Not too long after, he heard the floor creaked and a door opening. Pierre had most likely chosen to imitate him and had gone to rest too. 

Barely ten meter away from Edward, Pierre had indeed slipped under the covers of his bed, and, just like his companion, there were dozens of ideas hustling around in his head. 

“What have we gotten ourselves into?”


--


The Royal Sisters’ duties came to switch in due time, with the moon rising once and completing a full revolution across the skies without any incident disturbing the night. Across Ponyville, the inhabitants only started to stir when Celestia’s sun rose above the horizon. The light filtered through windows everywhere, and more than one ponies reluctantly pushed their covers aside.

In one such house, silence still remained undisturbed until the slow trot of a bicorn moving downstairs softly echoed though it.  

His head still foggy with tiredness, Pierre took note of the few leftover garbage left from last night’s celebration. One more thing they would need to do today. He was sorely tempted to drop down on their couch and forget he ever wanted to do anything at all. It was rather obvious that nopony truly believed their claims of being humans, thus it was unlikely they could count on their help to go back. Who else could they ask? 

As he sulked in his half awake state, he was jolted back to the land of the living by the sound of knocking at the door of his new home.

Ears perking up, Pierre turned and went to the front door. Distantly, he wondered who could possibly be visiting them this early in the morning. There was always that one possibility that seemed more likely than the others, but that only brought unpleasant thoughts. Luckily, the mare at the door was not Twilight Sparkle, even if she did have a horn.

“Bonjour Mademoiselle Rarity,” he said sleepily. 

She moved a pristine white hoof over her mouth, holding back a gleeful giggle. “Oh, I do so love that Prench accent of yours, Pierre. It is simply divine.”

“Merci,” he thanked her while trying to cover up a blush, something that the mare in front of him seemed to find adorable. “Eh… C-can I help you?”. 

Rarity stared at him with a slight frown, as if trying to make out if he was joking.

“Surely Twilight filled you in on this?” she asked, tilting her head to the side. “She promised to tell you for me since I could not attend your little welcoming party.” Then, seeing that he still did not appear to know, she added, “I was charged with making you presentable for your rendezvous.” 

“Ah.” Pierre rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. “Right. Well, see, let’s just say it ended early. I barely got to know I had a date today.”

“Oh my.” She placed her hoof in front of her mouth to hold back a giggle. “Can you imagine not getting to know at all? For your soulmate to show up unannounced while you are not ready. I rightly believe I would die from the shame.”

Wouldn’t that be just the day? he thought bitterly. 

Keeping the less pleasant words in, Pierre finally stepped aside and, clumsily, held the door in. His most inviting smile on, he motioned for her to enter. “Well, let’s do this then.”

She thanked him with a melodious voice, then followed him as they headed toward the living room together. 

“Hmm… not the color I would have chosen for the decor...” she commented, staring at their bright lime green walls. “Not that I disagree with your tastes, of course, but the color clashes so badly with your coats.” 

Her hoof brushed nonchalantly on his shoulder, contrasting the white of her fur with the brownish red shade of his. 

While he could see the point, Pierre’s primary concern was more the assorted rolls of fabric she was taking out of her saddlebags. He really hadn’t expected this to happen this morning. Then again, surprises were the norm in Equestria, or so it seemed.

“Right… euh...” He looked aside, trying to keep the sudden unease from his face. “What will we be doing?”

“Oh, I’m here first and foremost to create some dazzling clothes for you, but if we finish early, I believe I could also help with some fur-care products.”

Sheepishly, Pierre attempted to flatten the wild strands of his mane that he had yet to comb. A subtle blush heated up his face, but remained mostly hidden by the fur covering it. “T-that might be a good idea.”

“Excellent. Let’s get to work right away then!” Levitating all the necessary material and neatly aligning it over their table, Rarity gently readjusted his standing position, not unlike that of the mannequins in her boutique. “Here! You’ll need to hold this pose for a little while, dear. But! I guarantee it will be absolutely perfect! ” 

“I don’t doubt it,” he replied with a smile, one she echoed before getting to work in an atmosphere not unlike an hairdressing salon. 

And, although he wouldn’t admit it, Pierre felt his mind relax by listening to her juiciest gossip. It was such a stupidly mundane thing to speak about, but it was just what he needed to get his mind off much more worrying topics. By comparison, Roseluck’s most recent scandalous behavior really didn’t measure up. 

So he left himself get swallowed up in the moment, just chatting away on things he had at most superficial knowledge on, with just his occasional smartass comment to steal a less-than-ladylike snort from Rarity. She glared the two times he managed that little trick. Then pretended it never happened.

With their voices covering it up, neither noticed the shuffling noise from upstairs, nor the following hoofsteps. Not right away.

Finally deciding to grace the home’s other occupants with his presence, Edward entered the living room, a still tired look stretched across his features. Taking a cursory glance at the scene before him, he merely shook his head in bemusement. 

“Enjoying the pampering, Frenchie?” Edward yawned, taking pleasure at the rate his friend's face lost its almost relaxed state.

“Choke on your tea,” Pierre growled.

“How could I? I haven't had the chance to make it yet,” the brit scoffed, turning his attention to the kitchen, where he hoped he might do just that.

“How regretful that you did not require my services this morning,” Rarity called while looking longingly at the absolutely splendid silk she had prepared for the occasion. “It would have been a real pleasure to fit you some clothes as well, Edward.” 

“Sorry to disappoint, feel free to charge Pierre twice if it helps,” he chimed back from the kitchen, as he watched the tea churn in its pot.

“Charge?” she repeated incredulously. “But I am doing this as a favor to my friend and to you.”

Edward snorted. “If you mean Twilight Sparkle, then please feel free to charge triple.”

Rarity’s needles paused in midair. “Whatever do you mean, mon cher?”

“Oh rien.” Pierre shrugged. “He’s just being his usual self. Don’t worry about it.”

She pursed her lips together, seemingly suspicious of Edward now, but she made no additional inquiry or comment. Instead, she briefly shook her head and went back to her work with Pierre. 

In one precise and graceful flick of her horn, she made a long yellow tape unfold to its limit, testing its stretching capabilities with a slightly sinister snap.  

“Please straighten up a bit, I need the measure of your torso.”

And already her magic pressed on the parts of him that needed moving. Pierre did not quite feel like a puppet, but he could not help a cold knot tying his guts knowing that magic was being used on him. There was just something… unnerving about it. 

The yellow measuring tape circled around his barrel, swiftly running along his fur in varied places, each time only stopping long enough for the fashionista to mutter a number. She seemed very focused, completely ignoring the slightly nervous bicorn she was measuring. However, when the tape rolled off his coat at last, Rarity looked to him with a sly smile. “Appropriate muscles...”

“Ha!" Ed snorted sarcastically, which he quickly followed with a hefty gulp of tea. “Don’t get his hopes up like that, he wouldn't know muscle if it hit him over the head.” 

“Don’t listen to him.” Rarity gave Pierre her most winning smile. “I promise you, you will charm her off her hooves! You’ll become a couple in no time!”

He feared that much… 


--


Not being content to simply sit around and simply watch Pierre make an ass out of himself, again, Edward walked toward the front door. Just as he was about to open it, he received a rather prompt cough behind him. Turning, he came face to face with a less than amused looking Chainmail. 

“Where were you headed?” he asked, eying his charge questionably. 

Not wanting to be stopped, Ed did what he did best and improvised. “Oh, you know, I thought I’d give Pierre time to collect himself before his date, maybe get some lunch, check out the shops, the usual.”

Pondering Ed’s response for a moment, the guard gave a brief nod. “Fine, but if you want to go, I’m coming as well.” Turning around to face the other two occupants, he added, “While I’m out, I ask that you stay with miss Rarity, alright, Pierre?”

Receiving a quick gesture of understanding from his second charge, the pair made their way into town.

“So, any particular place in mind, or are we simply going to do a bit of sightseeing?" Chainmail quipped, as the two left the house in the distance. 

“Hmmm, I don’t know, I suppose we’ll know when we get there." The nefarious bicorn posed, placating his curious curator. He had no desire to reveal the real reason for taking off so suddenly, especially to the princess’ guard dog... 

As the two progressed further into the quiet little town, Ed couldn’t help but grimace at the constant looks he received. After his bout against the princess the night before, he had expected it but it didn’t make it any less annoying. The locals seemed to have a mix of pity and trepidation towards him, more the latter if he had to pick one. 

He thought about giving the rude rabble a stern lecture for being so close minded. They chose to judge him without even knowing him and if there was one thing Edward couldn’t stand, it was blind ignorance. 

Edward had a mission though, and be it hell or high water he would see it through, so teaching the masses respect would have to wait. He would discover the secret that everyone around him and his friend seemed to be hiding. 

Pierre may be willing to play along with Twilight and her secret agenda, but I refuse to be led blindly into destruction. First we arrive in Equestria via a magic greek statue, then we realise we’re a species we’ve never even heard of. Well I’m done, if Pierre wants to play bachelor, I guess it’s up to me to find out the secret behind the Bicorn race, Ed ranted within the confines of his mind, barely taking notice of his surroundings. This unfortunately ended when he had a very intimate meeting with a stone wall.

“Ah, what the bloody hell?” Edward howled as he pulled his face from the wall and rubbed his now bruised muzzle. Within seconds of his curse, Chainmail was beside him looking over his minor injury. 

Swatting the fussy guard away and insuring him that he was fine, the bemused brit took a good look at the building that had been his attacker. It was a simple looking shop, with old, time worn stone building its frame and a hand...or hoof painted sign that read; “Olden Time’s Legends and Guides” 

Taking the name of the shop in for several seconds, the distraught stallion couldn’t help but grin maliciously. He has just stumbled, if not painfully, into exactly what he was looking for.

Strolling quickly to the shops entrance, he let out a low breath before pushing the door in, which resulted in the sound of a small bell’s chime.“This should be fun.” He smirked, taking in the familiar smell of old ink and worn leather.


--


The edges of his brand new suit bounced on his back with his every step. Though he felt the urge to, he did not attempt to curb them into dominance. They had been left loose for a little bit of ‘style!’, as Rarity had explained earlier. To mess with it would be a crime against fabulosity. 

He had to admit to feeling quite fancy with such a nice looking suit, especially when the very vast majority of ponies in town seemed impervious to clothes of any kind. And his suit had rubies on it. Precious gemstones on the collar and as cufflinks. They glittered.

“You will eclipse every stallion in the square, Pierre! Mark my words!”

Those were amongst the few words of hers he did remember, ironically. The uninterrupted flow of cultured and refined declarations could rival Pinkie’s motor mouth, thus was way too much for him to ever memorize in any way. So he wasn’t really trying to. He did feel a little bad about ignoring her well-meaning advices, but he was desperately trying to remember a few more important details. 

Her name is Fortune, she has an interest in foreign languages, she is noted as being very kind to her younger siblings...

What the files said about his date. 

Right… and she’s a… what’s her job? Was it even written? Takes care of foals in her family, twice laureat in her community for public services… 

He came up with a blank. He could not honestly remember what this Fortune’s occupation was supposed to be. Oh well, even if he could not guess from her cutie mark, it would be one point to start the conversation.

“- and I think I see the lucky mare of the day!” Rarity pulled on his neck with a childish glee. 

Blinking, suddenly feeling a shiver run down his spine, his gaze followed the direction her hoof pointed.

She was right. There, on the terrasse of the café, just as scheduled, there was a mare that fitted the description. A long flowing auburn mane, stopping just short of her barrel that was a lighter shade of orange. Her eyes were a deep forest green, as he noticed when she briefly turned to send a look to her surroundings. They stopped on him, first flickering imperceptibly to the top of his head, then to the rest of his person before she averted her gaze. Just slightly, she shrunk on herself and blushed. 

“This is as far as I go, Pierre,” Rarity said in his ears. “I wish you the best of luck, and remember that her own bodyguard will be nearby in case you need anything at all. Good luck!”

He barely held in a scowl at that, deploying titan-like efforts to keep a pleasant smile on his face and wishing her a nice day. Through some good luck, his benefactor did not notice and she left him alone just at the entrance of the café. 

And all this time, Fortune had been stealing quick glances his way, lowering her head each time he looked back, and thus making the twin horns on her head that much more obvious. 

Alright, Pierre, be suave and charming, he told himself as he trotted between the tables. You want to hear her side of the story.

“Sooo,” he started with his most sensual voice, “I see the constellations are missing their most beautiful star today.”

Her face turned bright red, skipping past any shade of orange. She opened her mouth to reply, but could only stare with the most timid and intimidated look on her face.

Too strong, Romeo! 

“I’m sorry...” he said with a sheepish smile. “This whole thing is really making me nervous. I-I just thought I’d try to, well, you know, start things off with a compliment?”

Oh dear, this was just not going to work as intended. He could already imagine her calling him a pervert and leaving right away. In fact, he did not even know why he had bothered to sit down.

But Fortune surprised him.

“No, no, t-t-that’s alright. It was flattering,” she struggled to say. Her blush was slowly receding, even if other signs of nervousness did not. Amongst other things, her tail had twitched and curled up against her flanks. It made her look adorable, Pierre thought, and it became even more so when she let out a quiet chuckle. “T-to tell the truth, it’s my first time going on a date as well, and with an older stallion too.”

Feeling the awkwardness between them starting to break, Pierre jumped on the offered confession without thinking. “Oh? How old are you?” 

He could have facehoofed for that. Smooth. 

“My eighteenth day of birth was two moons ago...” she admitted very quietly. 

And now she looked as if she wanted to hide under the table. 

“Wow, I’m sorry I suck so badly at this.” At least, Edward can’t hear me right now. He’d have a field day with it. “That must be so disappointing to you. Talk about bad first impressions.”

Despite himself, his ears drooped down.

“Don’t say that...” Fortune said gently. “It’s not a terrible first impression. I… I could even say that it’s a little reassuring.”

He blinked slowly, his brain not catching up with the meaning of her words. “Huh?”

“Well...” she tapped on the table nervously. “It’s the first time I even left my village, you know? Everypony is so gentle and kind around here, but it’s still so scary. My mother and aunts kept telling me those scary stories to get me to stay inside the village and I like to pretend they don’t scare me at all, but now that I’m outside…”

With every word said, Fortune’s courage seemed to build up, as was Pierre’s interest. Her voice grew more steady and the tales of her very first travels outside of her village soon delighted them both. Fortune had grown up in a rather sheltered environment, he quickly understood, thus many socially self-evident actions had puzzled her immensely. It was rather amusing, in hindsight, and caused more than one shared giggle in the next few instants. So much that, when the waiter came to took their orders, he had to call for their attention twice. 

Blushing, both of them made a quick order for a salad and a drink. All the while holding back more sheepish laughs. Luckily, the stallion did not seem to begrudge them.

Pierre would have honestly been more shocked that way by this point. 

“Still,” he remarked in the ensuing silence, “this had to be an interesting experience, to travel around and see new places, no?”

“Of course, it was all incredible to see, but… you see… I could not put our meeting out of my mind. It was always in the back of my mind... When I heard the news that somepony had found a compatible mate for me, I… I felt...” Her breath hitched up, and she paused, seemingly overwhelmed by the news. . 

A few seconds of silence passed by, with the mare’s gaze held downward while conflicting emotions bubbled up in her. However, a pleasant warmth seeped over her leg. She found a hoof over hers, and looking up, saw Pierre smiling at her ever so gently. 

“Take your time,” he whispered softly. “Or don’t tell me at all, if you feel it’s too hard right now.”

It would seem like she would take him up on that offer, still too reserved about her inner thoughts. At first.

Suddenly, she shook her head and her eyes shone with renewed determination. “I was scared. I had spent so many years being told about this, being taught about it, that it just seemed like this insurmountable trial.”

Pierre could not help but feel sympathy for her. You’re not the only one that is scared over this, Fortune.

“I don’t want to disappoint anypony back home,” Fortune added, her voice shaking slightly. “They were so happy for me. They were telling me I would be able to give all this tenderness inside me to foals of my own. And Aunt Starry Eyes kept telling me I would be glad to have started having them early. Meeting the quotas is hard enough as it is...”

Pierre’s heart felt like it would burst. Quotas? What quotas? It couldn’t possibly be…

But his silence tipped her off, as she flinched under the sudden staring he put her under. “Sorry, I keep babbling. This cannot be very seductive for you.” She grimaced. “...I just don’t know how to do this. Sorry...”

Chastising himself, Pierre forced himself to swallow that heavy lump of fear and push it down. It was not the time to freak out. Certainly not in front of this very nice mare. 

“You shouldn’t beat yourself up,” he said with complete sincerity. “You’re here speaking to me now.” 

He waited for the tension to leave her shoulders and for her to open up. Then...

“It’s not so bad, is it?” He offered her a smile.

Slowly, the corners of her lips moved upward. 

Taking her smile into account, the nerve-wracked Pierre continued with his prompt, if not conversational interrogation.

“Why don’t you tell me more about yourself?” he asked, leaning forward with genuine interest. 

Still blushing, she let out a nervous chuckle. “O-oh, alright. Where to start?”

He had an answer to that. Planned one, to be accurate. “Well, where does a pretty mare like you come from?” 

The red spread further on her face, but, although she brushed a strand of her mane away nervously, her bashful smile showed that she was not displeased with the compliment. “I’m from the Baltimare Reserve, to the East.”

“I’ve never been there before. What is it like?”

“We’re close to the city, it’s a fifteen minutes trot from the edges of the city to the reserve.” She placed both her hooves on the table at figurative distances, then circled the left with her right one.  “So, obviously, the walls are pretty thick and the guards are pretty numerous. Then again, that’s the be expected for the third biggest reserve in Equestria. With so many bicorns in one place, the Princesses did not want to leave it up to luck… despite our innate power.”

He felt like he should have laughed, maybe that she expected it, but he could not bring himself to. Instead, he put on the best charmer act he could and asked, “You like it there?”

“It’s a nice place,” she declared with a fond smile. “I’m glad my parents and my aunts decided to stay there in their youth.”

“So, your entire family lived there then?”

Her ears drooped and she suddenly seemed much more subdued. “It used to. My older brothers all started their own herds outside Baltimare, so I’m the oldest one left and I take care of the younger foals.”

He cringed, acutely aware of the change in her mood. Truly, there was no end to his clumsiness today. “I… I see. Huh, how many siblings are still in Baltimare?”

“Nine.” 

He almost spat out his drink.

“N-nine?” he stuttered. “You have nine younger brothers and sisters?”

“Yes. What’s wrong?” She tilted her head to the side, puzzled by his strong reaction. 

If she had older siblings on top of it, it meant that she was one of at least twelve kids. He had never heard of a family this big on the show, at least not that closely related. Even the Apples were mostly cousins and a little more removed than that during their reunions. It just sounded incredible to him, yet her honest confusion made him hesitant to answer. “Oh, it’s huh, well… That’s a lot... It sounds like a lot of work...”

“Of course, but they are really the sweetest things you’ll ever see.” Her hooves came together in a most precious gesture. “And with two older brothers, I had some big strong hooves to help me too.”

Two older brothers that could very well be protective of a younger sister dating for the first time. 

The urge to look behind him rose within his guts. I really hope those ‘big strong hooves’ won’t try to beat me up once this is over...

And he clearly recalled Twilight saying the punishment wasn’t as severe between bicorns.

“What about you?” Fortune asked, oblivious to the fear that was gripping his guts. “I bet you have plenty of stories about unruly siblings too.”

He forced himself to sound relaxed. “I’m an only child, actually.”

Her eyes widened slightly, much like his reaction to her odd number of siblings. Though, he supposed, perhaps in Equestria, it was much odder to be an only child than be one of a numerous brood. 

Soberly, she looked upon him with sympathy. “It sounds quite… lonely.”

They fell silent, considering the other’s life, how their situation must have been, and neither quite achieving it. In the circumstances, they could be forgiven for squirming a little with such awkwardness starting to take hold between them. 

Fortune put an end to it. 

After but a minute at most, she stood from her seat, and hesitantly, sat down next to Pierre. Then, despite the blush that covered her face, she leaned against his right shoulder.

And Pierre felt a shiver run down his spine. One that made him feel more alert, more sensitive to Fortune in the many ways his new senses could describe her. She smelled very nice, a mixture of flowers and citrus, with just a touch of something undescriptible in any word he could think of. What he knew was that it was incredibly pleasant. 

To his surprise, his heart skipped a beat in his chest. Gentle warmth spread from the area she touched, and small tremors fluttered inside his stomach. 

W-what was that? I couldn’t have… no way! She’s a mare!

“Pierre?”, her voice startled him.

“O-oh, right, sorry, Fortune.” His voice felt unsteady to his own ears. “I just got lost in my thoughts for a second there. You see… It’s not really like that...  I’m...”

Not a real bicorn.

“...A foreigner,” he finished slowly.

“There was something like that on the papers I got,” she mused, one hoof to her chin. “Is that the reason you can speak Prench?”

“Well...” He shook his head, then put a hoof to his chest proudly. “French is my native tongue, rather than the other way around. So I guess it’s true.” 

“So you didn’t live in a herd with other bicorns?”

“No, in fact, the first bicorn I ever met is a stiff arrogant limey.”

“Oh… oh! Does that mean the reason you’re still single at your age is…?”

He looked away, accusing the hit to his ego, while his face heated up. “It’s not like I’m... I’d like to think I could have gotten a partner without this...” he muttered.

It seemed to hit her then that what she said could have been interpreted badly. 

“I’m sorry. I did not mean... I guess that was a bit presumptuous of me,” she admitted shyly. “Almost every bicorn I know of that are my age have found at least one partner or donated. The ones I know that are yours all expect their second foal very soon.”

His ears twitched at that. All of them? Second foal?!

“No, no, don’t worry, Fortune,” he quickly said while waving a hoof. “It’s normal, I understand. Culture clash and all that. I would not know the first thing to do around foals… And I now realize that’s a terrible thing to say on a date...”

He could not sink low enough into his seat. He just felt so small and petty.

“It’s just… this is really new to me. I did not know this was going to be asked of me.” Some very real fear slipped through. “I’m sort of discovering everything as it happens...”

“Then...” She bit her bottom lip. “Are you saying you’re not ready for this?”

Looking away, he tried to ignore the knot of guilt starting to tie up his throat. He felt sorry for Fortune, remembering her fears of not rising up to the expectations of her family. This was the first date she had gone on. And, unbeknownst to her, it had been doomed to failure from the start.

Now he just wished he had imitated Edward and just refused outright. Why in Celestia’s name had he thought this was a clever way to shed light on the issue? It was just cruel!

“Fortune, I’m so sorry about this...”

“Don’t be,” she said gently, shocking him. “Maybe it is for the best. We are both very inexperienced and not quite ready to fulfill those expectations. Let’s… make this a learning experience.”

“A-alright, maybe not dating right away.” Then, feeling unusually bashful, he added, “I’d… still like to talk with you, though.”
> Histoire Vide
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

He opened his eyes slowly, throughout the painful agony his head was inflicting on him. 

His senses were still a blur, a strange combination of strong scents and faint noises, all mixing together over what little light he could make out in this place. 

It was not the crypt. This place was much too different. For starters, he could feel a breeze brushing against him… strangely. 

It was… wrong. The sensation registered differently. The wind should have been a caress directly against his skin, or over his clothes. This felt like neither.  

Like wind on hair. All over his body.

Wrong.

The wrongness grew within his mind and his daze started to fade away. What had happened? What had happened when the Frenchie had touched the statue?!

In a frenzy, Edward’s lifted himself on his hooves, in the hopes of getting a better view of his surroundings and his current situation. 

But he froze midway through, then slowly looked down. A flurry of thoughts pounded at his addled mind.

Had he finally gone completely mental, were the Hindu right in assuming death involved becoming something else entirely?

“...What?”

He brought the flat appendage against his face and found that it felt very different from his actual body. Slowly, he twisted his neck around, allowing him to see the rest of himself, of a grey color not unlike the stone structure they were in.  

The idea wormed itself through his thoughts. He had recognized that scenario. The concept had been enunciated by others before him. Bloody hell, they had been wished for by some bronies he had talked to before. 

Turning into a pony.

“No, you’ve got to be kidding me, this is impossible...”

“E-Edward?”

Surprised, he turned in an instant, coming face to face with a pony he had not seen before. Not in the show, not ever. Rather, he had never became aware of ponies with two horns in the My Little Pony universe, though now that he saw it… there were two strange weights on top of his own head. He had the same attributes. 

The voice… It had been Pierre’s voice, coming from the body of this unknown reddish stallion. Just next to him, there was a marble object looking down on them both.

Everything clicked. There was only one way this could have happened.

He struck, pushed against the statue with all his might, as best as he could. But the stone would not move. It remained cold and still under his hooves and indifferent to his growing despair. Whereas it had enthralled one of them before, transported them both here and changed them, it was now nothing more than the realization of a terrible nightmare. 

It could not be real. It simply could not. 

“Un rêve… un rêve… un cauchemar...”

He had known Pierre enough to know the meaning of the words, despite his lack of knowledge of French. He would have to be blind and deaf not to when the former human looked blankly to the ground muttering to himself.

Feeling sorry for himself. 

For a reason he couldn’t completely explain, this only fanned the flames of his rage harder.

“What are you acting sorry for?!” He stomped, glaring at his companion. “This is all your fault!”

Pierre’s eyes widened while his jaw dropped. The tone he used next was even higher pitched than usual. “Excuse me?!”

Some distant part of him thought he was being unfair. A bit. Perhaps. But there was such burning anger running through his veins, it felt as if the edges of his sight would blur. 

His hoof pointed straight at the Frenchie’s chest, and he growled in accusation, “If you hadn’t spontaneously developed a horse statue fetish, we wouldn’t be here!”

“Pardon?! I could have sworn you were the one that led us into the crypt! Maybe I hallucinated that part, along with you leaving the group when we were visiting the Acropolis!”

“Says the guy who can’t keep his hands to himself. You can lead a horse to water, but it takes a real git to turn that water into a labyrinth of death.”

“I didn’t turn anything into…! I... ” Pierre’s breath hitched up, and he looked down, his eyes wide with a haunting terror. “I don’t remember… You were saying something and the statue was there… The light...”

For a moment, Edward remained silent, frowning. He had noticed the dead look in his friend’s eyes then. In retrospect, he would call it his natural look, but no, this was indeed very strange. Pierre hadn’t reacted to his shout. There truly had been a trance of sort involved. 

Yet, right now, neither he nor the silent stallion before him felt any attraction to that thrice cursed block of marble. It was just that, a statue. 

Shaking off his head and the most of his fear, Pierre looked up to him. “...What’s going on, Edward?”

“Do you really believe I have the faintest?” he asked bitterly. 

“...Okay… t-then, what do we do?” Pierre’s voice was quiet, subdued… defeated. “If… if this is real, what can we do about it? I… our families will wonder where we are, what happened to us! No one will know where we went!”

“I know all that, Pierre!” Edward growled. “Believe me when I say I realize that we have apparently become weird ponies in a castle in the middle of what I assume is the Everfree Forest, which is clearly not on Earth! The consequences are not lost on me!”

His last words echoed in the ensuing silence, reverberating with a strange tone, distorted as their bodies had been. The sound slowly faded away while the two stared at one another, one in anger, the other with a light appearing in his gaze. Finally, it seemed to sink in for the French stallion, and he stood up. 

“Alright. We’re going blind. So what do we do?” he asked again, but with a bit more strength.

Edward’s eyes narrowed on the statue. “I believe we can agree this thing is useless to us. I’ve touched it, yet nothing happened, nor did it try to enthrall us as it did before. Thus, we need to move out of this place to find a solution. If I am correct, this is the Castle of the Two Sisters, in the Everfree. There should be a path for us to follow all the way to Ponyville. We’ll decide the rest once we have reached it and spoken to Twilight. Agreed?” 

“O-okay, we can try that.” Pierre nodded.

“Then let us go. There is no time to lose. I do not wish for this experience to last.”

And with that statement, Edward turned on his hooves, heading on the path he felt would lead to the exit. They were in a great hall of sort, with a pair of thrones on one end that seemed vaguely familiar. It had been a hint to their location, he had reasoned earlier, though now that he thought about it, he could not help feel a nagging sensation at the back of his mind. 

It was neither the time nor the place to ponder that sort of things. They needed to get to Ponyville as quickly as possible. Thus, with Pierre in tow, he headed straight for the first staircase he saw, intent on getting to ground level and leaving. However, just as he would have taken the first step inside it, a powerful shiver ran up his leg to his shoulder.

He skidded to a halt, his companion too slow to meet his action and resulting in a pair of groans. 

“What the…?” Pierre asked, rubbing his chest. “Why did you stop?”

He did not answer right away, as he tried to mask his unease with the way his body had reacted. Somehow, pink came to mind. What-?

In an ominous rumble, the ground shook before their eyes. A stride’s distance away from them, the stone floor gave out, collapsing, and the darkness of the newly made crevice suddenly seemed to be reaching out toward them. Had they continued...

“Self-preservation instincts, what else?” Edward replied smugly to break the ensuing silence. 

“That was… lucky,” Pierre finally said.

“I’m not ready to call anything about our current situation ‘lucky’, snail slurper.”

Holding in a sigh, Pierre followed in his hoofsteps as they decided to take another route through the ruins. Hopefully, they would be able to solve this problem soon.

Throughout the cracks in the broken windows, one could see the darkness of Luna’s nights claim its hold over the Everfree Forest. 

--

Ponyville’s market buzzed with activity during the afternoon. Ponies of many trades would gather daily for the sales of their goods, others, weekly, making their arrival a good occasion for shoppers that wanted the freshest of produces. Dozens would simply trot between stalls to exchange money and gossip to their favorite sellers, bringing life to Ponyville’s center with them. 

Amongst the many passerbies, a small group of three trotted without much interest for the stalls. Two of them happened to be bicorns. An observer would be quick to think they were having the time of their life, as their progression was loudly punctuated by the sound of their shared laughter, Fortune leaning against Pierre for support. Her legs were shaking and she was all but ready to double over, tears shining in the corners of her green eyes. 

Yet her mouth kept moving and words were spewed to form one more silly story from her foalhood and her teenaged years.

”–a-and then… then Cornucopia pointed at our sleeping grandfather, but her face was covered in soothe! We could barely even recognize her!”

“Fortune, you’re pulling my leg!” Pierre mock stomped, demanding for the ‘real’ version.

“I swear to Celestia, she really did,” she pleaded, completely unable to sound or even look the slightest bit serious. 

Her task, albeit commandable, failed on every level, as neither bicorns could not stop themselves from giggling. 

“Fine,” Pierre finally admitted, grinning despite his ‘repentance. “I believe you,” he said as Fortune nudged him.  

Then, before either could start on a new topic, somepony jumped on the occasion to cut in. “Would you like to buy some flowers for your date, sire?”

Startled, Pierre turned around at the voice calling for them. Behind a large wooden stall, a brown stallion sat, waiting, surrounded by more bouquets than he could count. His eyes were on the two of them and his sly grin was not lost on Pierre, who proceeded to blush under his fur. 

This isn’t a date… I really need to remember that. 

“W-well, Fortune,” he cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his head with his hoof, “would you like some flowers?”

He had not expected her face to light up, nor her eyes to shine so much. 

“Oh yes!” Fortune clapped her hooves together, practically brimming with anticipation. “That would be wonderful! I haven’t been able to afford tulips in ages.”

“See?” the vendor asked. “Your lady clearly desires my product and I can guarantee you that, at five bits the flower, they’re a bargain.”

At the mention of money, Pierre felt with an acute accuracy the complete lack of anything on his person that would allow for the transport of bits. He winced, feeling his ears flatten with embarrassment. 

His clothing may have been the fanciest thing he had ever worn, that didn’t mean he actually had money to pay with. On another day, and indeed another world, this would be mortifying and a point of shame. However, as the fur on his skin and so many other things reminded him, he was in Equestria. 

And he had two horns on his head. According to the locals, that meant everypony else had to look over their shoulders and help without asking for input.

Predictably, Fortune’s bodyguard moved closer to him, to his left where she could not well see. Seconds later, some bits found their ways into his pockets. 

“Thanks,” Pierre whispered, but the pony had already backed away. 

Feeling no other choice, he put on his best smile for Fortune and, somewhat clumsily, paid for the tulip. The bits clattered on the wooden planks as he cupped his hoof to lift the flower. With as charming a gesture he could muster, he presented his gift to her, his blush mostly hidden by his reddish fur. 

On Fortune, the color was much more noticeable. Under both his and the sellspony’s grins, she took the treat with great care and carefully nipped at its petals. 

“Delicious,” she said, her eyes glazing over as her traits turned peaceful. “It’s just like I remembered. Maybe… maybe even better...”

The rest of her words faded, as her natural timidity prevented her from sharing more. She seemed briefly lost in the contemplation of her memories, doubtlessly recalling the last time she had been allowed to eat a treat like this one. However, she soon realized that all three other ponies had been staring, even if unintentionally.

“W-w-would you like a bite?” she squeaked with a reddened face.

Gently, a maroon hoof pushed the flower back to her, just enough to brush against her forelegs. 

“It’s yours, Fortune,” Pierre said softly. “Enjoy it. You’ve certainly done a lot to make this a good afternoon spent together. I’m happier seeing how much you like it. Alright?” 

Still fighting a persistent blush, Fortune acquiesced, “Alright, Pierre. I p-promise I will enjoy it… for you..”

Beneath his smile, Pierre felt his chest grew warmer. “Great. I think we can keep on our journey then. Let’s see, what else is there to do in Ponyville? I haven’t been here for long, unfortunately. I can’t really be the tour guide, but I’d love to accompany you on a bit of discovery.”   

For a short moment, Fortune looked pensive, her eyes darting over the rest of the market for inspiration. Then, as she took another bite of the tulip, her eyes widened. “Oh... oh! We have to go to Sugarcube Corner! I’ve heard about this place in the newspaper! It won a cake-making contest judged by Celestia herself!”

Pierre could not help but chuckle at her enthusiasm. “Well, that rumor is not exaggerated, but the story behind that is a bit longer. But hey, I know where that bakery is and their reputation is surely not built up on air, right?”

“T-then,” she stumbled on the words, “it is decided?”

“It is,” Pierre agreed, taking the lead.

Still not a date… he told himself, and almost believed it.

--

He breathed in once more the atmosphere of old ink and dusty paper, letting a few precious memories come back to him. For the shortest instant, he could have believed himself back on Earth, brushing the fragile parchment with the palm of his hand. But too abruptly, the memory faded into wisps of smoke, and he was a stallion in a pony bookstore.

His ears flicked once, but no other sign showed his disappointment.

“May I help you?”, asked an old earth pony with an inkpot cutie mark.

“Ah, yes, I was looking for books about bicorns, my good sir,” Edward said, stepping inside to admire the vast selection. “Something global, I didn’t quite have a more specific subject in mind yet.”

A look of understanding passed on the old clerk’s face, gears turning before his eyes. With a smile, he motioned for his client to follow.

“It has been some time since a client has come for information on your fellows. Well, beside Princess Sparkle herself, a few days ago,” he chuckled to himself, navigating between the shelves with ease. “I can see why, now.”

“Yes, well, Princess Sparkle isn’t the only bookworm around anymore,” Edward declared with a challenge to his voice.

The boast sufficed to amuse the old stallion, for his smile widened, and under his breath he whispered ‘ah, youths’ before taking a suitable volume out of the shelf. It was an old thing, a relic of the past, but one still widely used as a reference by teachers all across the country. Its circulation had been personally approved by the Princess herself, back when he was still just a colt. 

Appreciative of the obvious history carried underneath its bound cover, Edward accepted with a grin that was a touch too vindictive. “Please, send the bill to Princess Sparkle. She will be delighted to know I have started to take interest in my species’ history.”

The elderly clerk nodded. “Of course, sire.” 

“Excellent. Thank you for your help. Now all that’s left is to find a nice quiet place to read,” Edward mumbled to himself.

“Ponyville isn’t a big town,” Chainmail added cheerily, reminding his charge of his presence. “I’m sure there are a few places we can go. If nowhere else, we can always go back to the library.” 

Blinking a few times, Ed turned to his companion confusedly. “Are you really going to spend your day watching me read?”

Clanks of metal rang to his ears as Chainmail shifted in place and his mood seemed to drop.

“It’s my job, Edward. No matter how unpleasant you try to make it,” the bulky stallion replied.

“Good, then I promise not to disappoint. You’ve never known hell until today.” 

Chainmail rolled his eyes, following closely behind while his unwilling charge made his way to the exit.

The door jingled as the two stallions made their way from the small bookstore and into the bustling streets. 

Taking a deep breath, Edward surveyed the nearby area, pondering what to do next as the townsfolk continued their routines. The fenced off border of the towns park caught his eye, striking off at a jubilant pace he followed the path into the center of the inclosed haven.   

The Mysteries of the Fourth Tribe Revealed, by Field Study.

Taking a comfortable place under a shady tree, and placing the tome he acquired in front of him, Ed couldn't help but recall the first scene of the show he was not stuck in. 

It seemed like it always ended up being an ancient tome that held the answers a good protagonist needed. 

“Once upon a time,” Ed said, flipping the book to the first of countless pages.

The very first contact Equestria had with the fourth tribe as a whole happened shortly after the end of Discord’s first reign. One hundred years of madness, ended by the hooves of the princesses with the power of the Elements of Harmony. It is safe to say that the whole world breathed a sigh of relief back then. However, many were not satisfied with the transition between the rulers being so bloodless. Their sufferings were asked to be put aside so that the country could be put back on its hooves. 

Many could not follow the greatest preaching of Harmony. When messengers first arrived on the site of what had been the unicorn settlement of Gallopfrey, they found that save for a few elderly unicorns, the entire population was that of two horned ponies. Rather than question knowledge that had gone through an entire century of Discord’s influence, it was idiotically assumed that the bicorns had invaded and wrestled control of the city away from their previous owner.

For the following decades, bicorn settlements moved into seclusion, somehow evading most threats that would show up at their doorsteps. In those times, it regrettably meant that those threats would come at the hooves of other ponies. A shameful, disgraceful disharmony reigned between the bicorns and non-bicorns, through no faults on the part of our twin-horned brethrens, of course. 

The wisdom of those first nomadic bicorns was reinforced by their unique biology and their own brand of magic. Sometimes dubbed as ‘luck magic’, a bicorn’s horns serve as focus for an internal magical sense toward danger and hardships. An entire village composed exclusively of bicorns could detect most threats that would ever befall it well in advance, allowing the species to bravely survive unassisted for almost a generation. 

After settlement had been completely established for the remaining three tribes, contact soon became inevitable, and the unjustified persecution of bicorns began anew. However, this time, it took a more subtle form of discrimination, as Princess Celestia had already begun her watchful reign over us ponies and refused to let such disharmony fester. 

During this period of fragile cohabitation, more knowledge started to be leaked about the ones that had been so unjustly treated before.  

Far Sight was the first recorded bicorn to have clear visions of the future. Albeit rumors had indeed reached many ears before, including those of the famed Starswirl the Bearded, this was the first time a governmental institute had kept extended notes on a bicorn. The unsightly prejudices of the Post-Unification era still had some black roots into the hearts of ponies. By the laws of Princess Celestia however, the Gallopfrey Hospital for All Equines had no choice but to attempt to treat Far Sight with every considerations a patient deserves. 

This capacity has been shown to be extremely rare, only accessible to individual with high magical potential not unlike those measured in unicorn archmages, earth ponies druids and pegasi stormmasters. A bicorn with this capacity will generally be taken under Princess Celestia’s wings and receive the title of Oracle. 

Oracles have since then greatly contributed to the prosperity of Equestria as a nation, further showing the folly of our ancestors when they let hatred take hold in their hearts. Helping stop an assassination attempt on our allies’ commander, Minotean High Commander Redbull, and cementing a hundred years trade agreement is but only the most recent of their extraordinary contribution.

Giving a sharp whinny, Edward moved away from the book, taking a solid gaze across the rolling foliage around him. “You have to wonder why the Oracle didn’t predict this meaningless existence his race would partake in. Curious, no?”

“Perhaps they didn’t consider the bicorns’ lives to have become meaningless,” Chainmail said from his seat nearby.

“Yeah, because clearly bicorns were and are treated with dignity, right?”

“Yes,” Chainmail replied bluntly. “You’re protected, cared for and paid by the state without any need for debasing stuff. That’s pretty dignified to me.”

“Being treated like handicapped children is dignified?” 

Slowly, the bodyguard turned to look at Edward with raised eyebrows. Scoffing, he replied flatly, “Like celebrities would be closer to the truth.”

“Celebrities are not forced to live in reserves and have fifteen children each.”

“Gotta do what you gotta do so your race doesn’t die out.”

“Except if we factor in the ratio of births to children gender, it seems astronomically improbable that we aren't in equal standings with the other races already.”

At this, the bulky stallion shrugged. “I’m sure there’s a reason for that. Beats me what it is though.”

“Yeah, it’s called the governing body likes having a pool of lucky prophets to use at their leisure,” Ed scoffed, returning to the pages, a sour look on his face.

Once upon a time, when ignorance and jealousy guided our ancestors toward intolerance, there were vile rumors about bicorns’ biology, implying that they were not true ponies. ‘Goats’ and ‘Chaos spawns’ were amongst the kindest words associated with bicorns in those dark times. Through their delusional prejudice, it was believed that they lacked average intelligence, that they had violently chaotic instincts, that they worshipped evil entities and kidnapped foals, everything but the kitchen sink was said of them. This kind of attitude plagued the scientific communities, delaying common studies for decades. Once they were completed however, the results ashamed the worst gossips and revealed crucial details about our noble brothers and sisters.

Beside the horns on their heads and the magic they granted, the most peculiar fact of their biology was first noticed by nurses and midwives, then brought to the attention of the rest of the medical community. Across the unified territory, registers were examined closer and the thesis was first formulated (and later confirmed by the works of eminent researcher Double Helix). Thus, records show that couples made up of two bicorns only produced bicorn foals as well. On the other hoof, if either parent belonged to a different tribe, the foal would almost certainly not be a bicorn. The rare exceptions were noticed when the grandparents were bicorns as well. 

As a race, bicorns are the least dominant phenotype, only apparent when every other phenotypes are absent in a pony’s genetic code. This, amongst others, is the most important reason for the bicorns’ endangered status. Despite centuries of coexistence, any attempts at integrating into equestrian society puts them at risk of assimilation within the population and the disappearance of the race as a whole.  

“Well, that explains something, but only leaves another hundred questions unanswered, feels like real progress,” Ed said. Before he continued however, the distinct sound of feathers and the beating of wings caught his attention. 

Peering up, to his annoyance, he saw that Ponyville’s premiere flyer was headed straight for him.

“Oh, hey pal,” Rainbow Dash said in a more subdued tone than usual. “What are you reading?”

“The latest Playcolt, what else?” Edward jibed, his eyes never leaving the pages of the worn tome. 

Instead of laughing as he had expected, she cringed. “Ah, huh, right,” Rainbow Dash agreed, rubbing the back of her neck awkwardly. “Look, the other day, during lunch, I didn’t mean to offend your friend like that.”

Ed waved dismissively, pretending to be enthralled by his book. .“Don’t worry about that, Pierre is liable to forgive you.” 

A heavy silence fell between them while she digested the meaning of his words.

“That’s cool, but… what about you? Are you mad? My mouth moves a bit faster than my brain sometimes. I was just trying to joke around, help you feel more like part of the group, you know?”

“Right, don’t worry. I don’t get mad, that would imply I expected more from you.”

His dismissive tone apparently struck a nerve, as the humbleness started to fade away from Rainbow Dash’s body language. Straightening up, her eyebrows furrowed together, she called out in annoyance, “Okay, look, I get it, jackass move there! I do that sometimes. But I’m sorry, okay! It wasn’t cool of me, and it won’t happen again. That’s what I wanted to tell you colts.”

“Oh no, you misunderstand, you were totally right, all us bicorns are, are giant rabbits…we mate, we eat, we sleep. It’s not like we have anything better to do, right?”

“I get it!” Rainbow Dash stomped. “I get it, okay! I’m sorry, what more do you want?!” 

“Can you free my people, or maybe world peace, can you do that?” he asked evenly, as if her annoyance was even not worth his time.

“Oh for buck’s sake! If you didn’t want to forgive me, you could have just said so in the first place!”

“I didn’t think I’d need to spell it out so obviously, my bad.”

Rainbow Dash snapped. The insult made her blood boil, melding everything together under the sudden burst of adrenaline through her veins. Seething, her wings flared as she prepared to lunge, but her attempt was nipped in the bud when one orange stallion moved with surprising speed between the two of them.

“Step away,” Chainmail said in warning. “You do not want to get the guards on your case for assaulting a bicorn.”

Rainbow’s face twitched, her whole body itching for a fight with the arrogant stallion talking her down. Gears turned in her head, as she fought herself to stay calm and remember the guard’s stern words. In the end, she could not even swallow the bile rising in her mouth long enough to speak. In one blurry take-off, she took to the air.

“Looks like I won, I think, though with her it’s never quite clear.” 

“You know, Edward, you are probably the biggest jerk I have ever met. This including any of the nobles,” Chainmail grunted, watching the fleeing prismatic trail of the furious mare.

“Yeah, I know,” Ed whispered. 
--

“Farewell, Fortune...” he said with a hint of melancholy. “I hope you enjoyed the experience as much as I did.”

“I...” the mare paused, seemingly wanting to say more. Her mouth first opened, then closed. “Y-yes, it really was fun spending so much time with you, Pierre. I think today is going to help me the next time it comes to meeting new bicorns.”

His ear ticked at that. A little twitch twisted a nerve in his neck, making things uncomfortable despite his most affectionate smiles. Why did the thought bother him? It was a great ending to what had potentially been a disastrous idea. They left on good terms, and he at least had a better grasp at how bicorns lived.

Unaware of his worries, Fortune leaned forward with a little smile and placed a kiss on his cheek. Then, her natural timidity coming back in full force, she moved away from him, her face completely reddened.  

“Well, goodbye and… hopefully, we’ll see each other again soon.”  

On that note, Fortune followed her bodyguard away from them, only sending a cursory glance toward Pierre before disappearing between two houses. The stallion stayed in place longer, one hoof weakly waving after her. It was only when there were no more doubts about her being gone that he finally dared to turn around and go back inside. 

It should – and would – be the end of that. They’d stay friends if possible, but his primary goal had to remain finding a way home. 

Yet his hoof brushed against his cheek, and he found that spot warm. If he focused, he could still feel the softness of her lips just there, lingering. In spite of himself, he found himself smiling. 

And the thought disturbed him. He… knew he wasn’t supposed to. How did it even work? Had his preferences changed in a matter of days stuck as a stallion? 

Okay, that was both more pleasant than I thought it was gonna be and scarier. 

It couldn’t have been so fast, right? He still had no trouble remembering some of his previous girlfriends back on Earth and they still looked attractive to him. So how could he have any attachment beyond platonic levels with Fortune? Not that he had any...

“Stupid stallion hormones...” he muttered, tugging at the collar of his clothes to take them off. 

Doing so, he passed by their living room, his suit falling onto the arms of the couch in a clicketing of rubies. 

“Ah, the lustful male returns to his den once he has satisfied his lower instincts,” Edward quipped from behind an ancient-looking tome.

“Oh just shut up, Ed...” Pierre retorted miserably. “It’s bad enough feeling this way without you adding on to it.”

“Well, then prepare to feel a whole new level of fatigue.”

For a moment, he was tempted, very tempted indeed, to completely ignore what Edward was about to tell him and just go to his room straight away. Truly, he did not feel like getting another bombshell getting dropped on him. Yet..

Sighing, he started to trot toward the couch Edward was occupying. “Let me guess… Bicorns are all required to have stupidly huge families?”

“Not quite, how much did your date tell you of our past?”

At that, Pierre’s gaze fell downward, his hoof scraping at the ground. “Huuh… well… we weren’t really talking about the distant past. More like, the immediate present, sometimes the close past and… future.”

The book slammed shut, the groan that followed suit holding a grand orchestra of anger, sorrow, and worry. “You really are ten levels of hopeless, aren’t you, lad?” 

All his bravado and self-confidence was gone, Edward stood, tired, looking ten years older than his form would suggest. His eyes were lined with dark rings, his body shaking with the internal strain. The tides of the world around him eroding away everything he knew. 

“While you were playing house, I dabbled into our new past. Come take a look,” Ed said, tapping the tome beside him wistfully. 

Wary, his eyes never leaving his friend’s form, Pierre placed himself beside the old volume. “What’s this?”

“A grand summary of our entire worthless existence. Going from history of being treated as the spawn of evil to the helpful fact that we can see the future sometimes.” Edward’s eyes grew weary, showing a greater burden on his spirit than ever before. “Here, if you want an example of what kind of prophecies bicorn oracles have come up with, well… do the words ‘The stars will aid her escape’ ring a bell?”

One could have heard a pin drop. The silence had come that fast, striking as soon as the words had registered with all the strenght of an explosion.  

“Oh… oh putain...” Pierre blanched, his voice weak. “A bicorn predicted Nightmare Moon’s return?”  

Edward sighed. “Yeah, yeah they did.”

“W-we’re screwed! Royally fucked over! Celestia’s never going to let us go if THAT’s the kind of help bicorns have been to her!” 

“Yeah, I know. We can’t stay here, we don’t have a chance.” 

The book slammed shut, and Ed stared at Pierre with a restless look. Layers of paranoia and fear mingled with so many thoughts invaded his mind. The noose had started to strangle them. They were well and truly trapped. 

Pierre met his gaze without faltering. He had understood, fully understood, the depth of their trouble, and that of his friend’s worries. “...When?”

“Time slows for no man.” Edward shook his head. “Waiting will only cause the problem to worsen. There’s no time.”

Sighing, Pierre glanced outward, to their window and the orange light filtering through. “Tonight?”

“The sooner the better.”

> Burning Bridges
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

A pair of legs shot out from the darkness beneath the foliage, pushing aside another overgrown wall of leaves and stems. From the opening, two prudent stallions trotted out, their gazes about their surroundings, for fear of one of the famed danger that gave the Everfree its reputation.

The maroon bicorn struggled to control his fear. “I’d say this is a nightmare… but my fur’s kept getting stuck in the branches around. I swear, it’s like combing knots all over your body.”

With a frantic hoof, he rubbed at a spot on his shoulder, still feeling the sting of the pull over there. The rubbing noise did nothing to endear him to his companion, whose patience had all but ran out already.

“Can you put a lid on it?” Edward growled. “I know it’s hard for a maniac like you, but why don’t you follow a proper model for once and do like me? In other words, stop complaining.”

Pierre’s face fell flat. “Well, excuse me, princess,” he called out with fake enthusiasm. “I was transformed into a horse not long ago and started freaking out again. So sorry for not having your mental fortitude and lack of human emotions.”

“Leave it to you to focus on...” The rest was lost in a long suffering sigh, and the shake of his head. “A cat would have been an improvement in terms of intelligence.”

While Pierre scoffed in the background, Edward resumed their walk through the apparently most dangerous forest in the world, with less caution than before. In their defense, as they would later say, one of the Everfree’s biggest horror was what all humans considered normal weather pattern.

“Why, think about it, Frenchie.” He smirked and pushed aside a large branch. “Unfortunate as it is, we have a chance at seeing something no other human has ever seen. It’s an historical moment. We are -- temporarily, let’s never forget this -- bronies that landed in Equestria.”

For a moment, the two bicorns trotted in silence, the only sound that of brushing leaves as they tried to advance across the Everfree. There was careful consideration in Pierre’s eyes, a smug smirk on Edward’s lips. At least, until his friend deadpanned, “And somehow, you’re the one I’m forced to share this with. Life loves its irony, doesn’t it?”

Edward scoffed at that. He jumped blindly over a root and, without his knowing, landed a hoof just next a fluorescent mushroom cap. The grass blades that detached from his legs landed on the red plant and created a faint sizzling hiss. With its next movement, the gray leg failed to even brush the Sunburn Mushroom, and Edward proceeded his trot none the wiser.

“Don’t ruin it, Beret-Boy.” He scowled. “This is me trying to be positive and looking forward to something.”

Pierre remained silent behind him for a few seconds, the weight of the confession hitting him, and then he chuckled softly. “I knew the end of the world was coming. Tis truly a rare occasion, right?”

“I knew you’d rather pretend this was the end of the world than work to fix it.”

“I’m not-!” Pierre started to protest, then stopped, wise enough to at least see a futile fight when it showed its rear end to him. “Forget it. So, you want to play buddy with ponies? Clichéd much?”

“This is our lives, Pierre. I may not think the world in optimistic terms, but I happen to know when opportunities arise. If you think an opinion -- such as yours, froggie --, will keep me from doing what I want, you’re mistaken enough to think French is a worthwhile language.”

The look in Pierre’s eyes was positively murderous. “Un jour, Edward, un très beau jour...”

The glare slid on Edward’s back, who seemed to be rather amused at having succeeded in drawing his friend’s ire. “I know you have poor taste in ponies, what’s with your plebeian taste in alicorns and your sinful tongue, but we can make do, can’t we? Don’t you want to see what Equestria is actually like?”

The question hit Pierre hard. He did not snark, nor did he fall back to his native French. A glint of careful consideration shone in his eyes, something tugging at the corner of his mouth. He could not exactly deny the appeal of that idea. If they still worked to get back, then surely there was no harm in enjoying it rather than falling into a useless depression, right?

Yes, they were currently quadrupeds, but that would likely be only temporary. If some obscure form of magic had changed them once, surely to reverse it would be within the realm of possibilities. And in the meantime, they could live something no other brony had ever lived. The more he thought about it, the more Pierre allowed himself a glimmer of hope.

Maybe things wouldn’t be so bad after all.


--


At the apex of the moon’s travel through the Equestrian night sky, peace reigned still over Ponyville. The homes of most citizens were blanketed in their princess’ darkness, their dreams a world to escape to. Few were still awake at such a late hour, fewer still actively plotting any strenuous activity. In truth, there were two.

Hushed curses echoed throughout the street. If one looked up at just the right moment, they would have seen a stallion hanging from a window, all but one of his legs batting in the air. The last seemed stuck to the window sill. If one had both looked up and blinked, they would have missed the spectacle, and instead heard a loud thud and the breaking of branches as the same pony fell into a bunch of bushes.

At the same window, another pony peeked out, his attention downward. Had it not been for the need of secrecy, the taunt that had come to mind would have been said loud and clear. In its place, his hoof went to his forehead. 

Seconds later, he too had made acquaintance with the very same bush, now half broken under their weight. Habits nearly betrayed them, for even their whispers seemed to be nothing but mutual barbs. In the peaceful night, they felt much too loud and the two hurried away in a fast gallop.

Each step was an explosion, and each heartbeat drowned out the loudest of them. Their hearts beat so strongly their barrels hurt as fire slowly spread to their lungs and legs. They dared not slow down, their mind becoming unfocused with the pulse of adrenaline coursing through them.

There was no future for them in Ponyville, none for them in Equestria. They had to run, and there was only one place for them to go, or so they felt. It was, in retrospect, someplace they should not have left. Had they known from the beginning, they would have seeked some other solution.

And so, Edward led Pierre back to the Everfree Forest, and did not slow down as the edges of the woods became visible.

Cold air gripped at his coat, swirled into his lungs and rasped at his throat. A burning sensation that had nothing to do with his physical condition made his barrel ache. He hadn’t noticed the first time, not when they were already in the forest, but this time… he could feel where the ponies’ weather control ended. And where the wretched woods truly began.

They galloped on, further and further away from the ponies’ town and from the light. Shadows washed over them, their other senses growing sharper. Earthy moist scents tickled at their nostrils, spurn on by their brushing against leaves. 

Time ticked at the beat of their gallop, neither knowing nor caring how long they had gone on. Each moment blurred into the next, until the pattern broke.

Pierre nearly stumbled, his hooves slipping on moss and grass. Through some miracle or another, he managed to stay standing, though his gallop slowed down rapidly. For a second, he held himself against a tree, and realized why he had almost fell face first onto the ground. As the realization sank in, Pierre felt cold. When had they left the path? “Ed! Wait!”

“What?” came the annoyed question. “Keep up, snail bait.”

“I can’t see the path anymore!”

“Like there really was one to begin with,” Edward retorted, motioning to the all encompassing canopy of trees and brush.

“W-what are you even…?”

“We’re supposed to be lucky, aren’t we?!” Edward asked, pushing a bushel of foliage out of the way. 

He knew he heard his friend swallow his fears.

To their right, just on the edge of the path they had left, he could see shades of electric blue. Even in such darkness, the leaves and petals of the Poison Jokes were unmistakable. Suppressing a shudder, Pierre forced himself to accelerate. He did not want to imagine what those plants would do to them and he had no intention to stay behind to find out. 

Edward did not either, his form already disappearing in-between the trees. As he moved to follow, Pierre felt his insides turn to ice and his legs lock into place. 

“Ed! Edward! Wait!” he called. “Come on, limey, will you just listen to me for once!?”

“Yeah, when you actually have something worth saying,” Ed snorted.  

Stomping, Pierre growled in anger. “I’ve got a really bad feeling about going ahead there!”

“More like you’re getting cold hooves.”

A rustling caught their attention, a shadow slowly ebbing into view, its master only seconds behind. A small orange fox like creature hopped into their path, baring its fangs at its two much larger prey.   

In a deluded sense of self-preservation, Ed spun on his heel and kicked blindly at the intruder. 

With one swing of his back leg, he sent the pup skidding back into the foliage. A high pitched yelp accompanied the crashing noise of branches breaking. 

“D-did you just kick a baby fox?” Pierre cried out, looking incredulous. “Edward! Oh mon Dieu...”

“I suppose I did, hmmm, little bugger will be fine,” Ed said, rolling his eyes at his friend's overreaction. “It doesn’t matter anyway. We’re trying to save our sanity, remember?”

Pierre gave a flat look, rubbing his temples with a hoof. How could he ever explain in under an hour how stupid that had been? At this point, he truly wondered if there was not something wrong with Edward.

However, his response died out on his lips as a bloodcurdling hiss rose from their surroundings. The cry hitched up, grew in pitch and became a cackle, mocking and angry. Embers like so many piercing eyes ignited in the night air, the smell of burning wood and greenery ebbed on the winds. Flashes of white and orange came from their left, and their right, and the cackles now felt like angry retribution.

Edward and Pierre jumped back when one tree burst into flame.

They shielded their eyes with their front legs, backing away from the scorching heat licking at their coats. Above the barrier of flames, they could see a shape vaguely like a large fox. Its beady eyes contrasted in the light of the fire, two small spots of complete darkness, all focused on them, shining with fury.

Fear seized at their hearts, a deep, dark primal force squeezing their lungs and their throats, and already their legs were tingling and trembling. A whinny flew out of Pierre’s mouth and the power over him was too feral to even notice.

Fire volleyed over their heads, singing their manes. The blast took down the trees, cutting off their escape route. 

“Oh yeah!” Pierre shouted, swiftly backing into Edward. “The little bugger will be fine, but we won’t, you moron!”

“Oh, you can go right ahead and burn in hell,” Edward shouted back, with a tremor in his voice.

“Of the two of us, I think the baby-kicker deserves the hellfire!”

“Well, regardless, we’re both going to burn at this rate,” Edward said, glancing over the growing fire, “and just so you know, I blame you for this. Now get moving!”

He left time for no more word, his back legs springing to full extension in the beginning of a mad gallop. 

Sinister cackles rang across the clearing, echoes over the blinding flames in the dark. The shapes of the parents followed them, their amber eyes like that of living embers. Dashing from place to place, their eyes never leaving the two nervous stallions, their shadows slithered between the trees. 

Heat licked at the two bicorns’ tails and hind legs. They pushed forward faster, the forest blurring as they ran.

Through the endless tarp of greenery, the two bickering stallions fell from a short incline and landing face first in front of a wall of thorns and briers. 

“And for the record,” Pierre breathed hard, his muzzle covered in dirt, “I still hate you.”

Even with their demise staring down at their faces, Edward still found the strength to smirk. “This is news since when?”

The bicorns sat up exhausted, surrounded and terrified. The hissing of their attackers whispered on the winds, as the scorching heat of the inferno drew ever closer. The two sought solace, at least they would die on their own merit and not as puppets. Streaks of light arched from above. 

But fire didn’t rain, and the explosion of light left a lingering shade of purple in their sight. A sound like shimmer and chimes buzzed lazily at their flattened ears. What washed over them was not hostile, though as soon as they saw its wielder, blazing with power, her coat and mane undulating, the bicorns hesitated. 

Banging rose, impacts of fireballs onto a bubble of light, and the snarl on the princess’ face grew fiercer and more terrible.  

“WHAT ARE YOU IDIOTS DOING HERE IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT?!”


--


A burst of light faded, Edward and Pierre swaying form the sudden shift in environment. Twilight standing before them her horn still alight, she caught her breath, a few beads of sweat rolling off her brows. They were out of the Everfree.

Guards slowly surrounded the stallions keeping them from running back into the woods. Edward eyed them warily, pawing at the ground in defiance.

The ponies stepped back with a dismissive wave of Twilight Sparkle’s hoof. She marched on them, eyes still wide with what she had seen. “D-do you even realize how lucky it was that you were chased by fire creatures in the middle of the night?! Anything other than firefoxes and I couldn’t have spot you in the woods! You would have been killed, or worse!”

“Lucky?! Are you blind or just willingly reducing your intelligence so it matches that of the average dog?! We were trying to get away from YOU!”

An uneasy whisper rippled across the few guards standing in circle, and the princess recoiled as if struck. 

“Wha-what?” she stuttered, her eyes darting to the ponies around them. A mute panic sank into her limbs, as she tried to sound friendlier, “Why in the name of Celestia would you run from me? I’ve done everything I could to help you two. Why would you run? Especially into the Everfree forest, that... that makes no sense.”

“No, you wouldn’t get it, would you?! That’s the whole problem with you, Twilight Sparkle!”

For the briefest moment, their savior frowned, cringing ever so slightly, but quickly shook her head and prepared another spell. “We don’t have time to deal with this.”

Light gathered at the tip of her horn, then flashed. Afterward, the Ponyville local garrison was left blinking at the empty space that the princess and her charges had occupied. 

--

Their second experience with unicorn teleportation left them dizzier, disoriented and within a sudden rush of hooves trying to hold them standing. Edward’s first reaction had been to fight them off, persuaded that those were guards at the beck and call of Princess Twilight, come to put them under house arrest. His struggle ended with the light of a horn and a sudden sense of content filling his mind.

Pierre’s eyes had widened, the blur almost gone, and he had tried getting away, unsuccessfully. The ponies in white coats were effectively holding them down, all the while yelling incoherent things about injured bicorns. The hooves were less gentle than their words implied, shaking. The voices had grown frantic when he had winced and tried to cover his rump with his tail, one spot blackened, singed.

“First degree burn,” said some mare. “Tell the apothecary, prepare the rejuvenating spells for small-sized coat damage.”

“We’ll do everything, Princess! You’ll never even know they were injured tomorrow!” shouted some doctor, and soon they had done good on their words. 

They had been shoved into those slightly less pleasant than usual cells an hour ago, perhaps two, and since then had had to endure the platitudes of a nurse that clearly had never met a bicorn before. “We’re such a small town after all, with no reserve anywhere near the Everfree, of course.” The tone had been light, but the reproach so blatant that Edward had grown… creative with his choice of words. 

It had been almost funny, in retrospect, to see the pale mare’s left eye twitched as she fought to keep her composure. Her glare said loud and clear that only professionalism prevented her examination from growing painful. She had stopped trying to make small talk after that. The rest had gone by in a mostly thoughtful and frustrated silence, long after she had left and a doctor had taken her place.

Neither of them said a word. Their faces were akin to masks of stone. They stared at the turquoise ceiling with silent anger. They refused to acknowledge the other pony in the room, listening instead to the constant beeping noise by the bedsides. 

Undeterred, the stallion spoke in the same monotone tone that droned on and on. Everything he said were of their great luck in coming out uninjured of their reckless endeavor, and how honored he was in treating them, and how they would of course make a swift recovery if they listened to the hospital’s staff. All with the tone of someone speaking to a particularly dim child.

Pierre sank deeper into his pillow. Was that stallion trying to get them to sleep? A quick ingestion of drugs would be simpler, but of course those people chose the hardest solution. And so he felt himself drifting, until he happened to catch what the doctor mentioned of the next procedure. 

“- a worrying lack of data. Since we couldn’t find the records of your annual health examinations, we decided to run the test for the basics. If you could just lift your tail...”

Pierre shot up straight in his bed, throwing off the sheets and the equipment over his right front leg. 

“Pardon?!” 

The doctor turned to him with still the same even monotone. “We need to run certain tests to determine if you or your friend are at risks of falling prey to a disease or another. In the meantime, it is better to take some precautions.”

“You’re not looking at my butt, I don’t authorize you!” Pierre said. “Y-you can’t do something like that without my consent!”

The doctor seemed puzzled for a second, one brow raised as he tilted his head. He did not speak up yet, as if he were trying to understand a truly strange statement. 

Something cold and familiar washed over Pierre’s spine. “O-or can you? You can, can’t you? I don’t even have the right to refuse intrusive treatments, right? Of course you wouldn’t let me have even that slightest bit of dignity!”

Sighing, the doctor looked at him in the eyes and spoke with a serious tone, “I know it’s not pleasant, but we can’t risk you developing the Unluck Horn Disease. ”

“La quoi?” Pierre asked, then repeated himself more calmly. “What’s that?”

This time, the doctor looked frankly stunned. The pen that had been hovering over his papers fell, bounced off the tablet and rolled across the tiles. It was a moment before the stallion took the time to pick it up, and even then his focus was elsewhere.

He spoke quickly in hushed tones, his gaze downward, more to himself than the two patients before him. “...There is no way you have not been told before. Your family would have. Unless yours was truly blessed...”

Edward’s ear ticked at being so blatantly ignored and dismissed. “Didn’t Princess Bossy Sparkle tell you? Polymorphed humans, not actually bicorns. Those,” he paused and poked at his horns, “are cheap plastic imitations.”

“Pardon?” 

Edward’s face twisted into a sneer. “Well, I guess it was not a convenient truth to tell then. We’re not bicorns. We were not born as bicorns, or even as ponies. We don’t know how, but we were transformed when we got here.”

Rolling his eyes, the doctor pointed to a clipboard on the wall. The images on the black sheets of paper roughly resembled ponies’ skull, with bone-like structures coming out of the foreheads. “It’s an interesting story, but I’m afraid none of the scans detected a single anomaly. In fact, they showed you to be rather ordinary bicorn stallions in their best years. Now, we still need to determine if you are as healthy as you look, so if you could drop the pretenses, it would make my job much easier.”

“Why is this so hard to believe?!” 

“Because normal spells don’t affect creatures to the core. It would show if you two were anything like you claimed.” The doctor looked up from his papers with an amused scoff. “And if you want me to buy that it was a spell so powerful… don’t bother. I truly doubt that Princess Celestia goes around wasting her time turning creatures into bicorns.”

“She doesn’t?” Edward’s eyes widened in mock shock. A hoof brought to his heart, he deadpanned, “Well, color me surprised. There are lows she wouldn’t sink for this bicorn obsession then. How reassuring.”

His tirade ended when a long suffering Pierre threw his pillow straight at his face.

“Oh just shut up, Ed, and you, doctor, tell me what that disease is already.”

The doctor didn’t even blink. He had grown used to much more eccentric. “Nasty thing, the Unluck Horn. The poor pony’s magical energy goes wild and slowly erodes the immune system until they die of the smallest things. It’s distressingly common, one in five at the most recent statistics.”

Both bicorns blanched. In particular, one of them suddenly had a thought for a mare and her large family. He hadn’t thought to ask -- hadn’t known he should have --, but mayhaps that mare had known her fair share of loss. The look on her face when she had learned of his only-child status now shone in a much different light, and his heart squeezed in his chest. 

Oh Fortune…

“Didn’t you have anypony in your family suffering from it?” At the shake of Pierre’s head, the doctor’s brows furrowed, until a sudden light in his gaze made him perk up. “Oh, I get it, you’re a Lucky Foal, with parents not expecting a bicorn. That would explain a lot. Why, that’s nothing to be so ashamed of, quite the contrary.”

“No, I told you I’m-” Pierre suddenly stopped and facehoofed. “Urgh, nevermind that. Just tell me about that unluck crap. Is there a chance I have it?”

“Well,” the doctor trailed off slyly, “the most effective detection measure requires a blood sample.”

At that, Edward’s face darkened, and he subconsciously lowered his forehead. “If you even consider touching me with a needle, I will shove my horns straight up your malformed sterile ass.”

It hadn’t seemed to impress the one in front of them. “We can have you restrained, if you’d rather.”

Pierre facehooved with both his front legs.


--


They hadn’t thought much of it when, some time later, the nurse had announced that they had a visitor. It could have been any of the Elements Bearers, they had figured. Perhaps even a charitable misguided soul that had heard the words ‘bicorns’ and ‘injured’ in the same sentence and rushed in. They hadn’t been prepared, however, for the bronze coated stallion that trotted in.

“So you two decided to run away at night?” asked Bronze Chainmail sourly as way of greeting. “I guess I shouldn’t be acting surprised.”

Edward and Pierre exchanged a look, the strange tone in their bodyguard’s voice making them somewhat wary. 

“Dropping the false caring act would be an improvement for sure,” Edward drawled. “No one can say they care about someone else and force them into those scams of relationships.”

The thunderous stomp startled them and sent their dirty dinner plates splattering on the floor. “It is my job to care, Edward! A job that I stand to lose because you stupidly decided to take a trot in the most unstable wild zone in Equestria on my watch! Do you have any idea what kind of grief Princess Sparkle has given me for that incident?!”

“Look, can we take your grief another day?” Pierre sighed, a hoof to his forehead. “We’re all tired, miserable, and I won’t be able to sit down for a day.”

At the last of those words, Edward could not keep in an amused scoff. Bronze’s head snapped toward the offending Brit. “Right, because you think these things are so funny, don’t you, Edward?”

“Funny, Funny! Are you kidding me?” Edward sputtered. “Do you want our places? We’d trade it any day with an egocentric princess lapdog.”

“That position probably won’t even exist anymore! Do you get that?! I’m probably going to be fired, but it’s not like you’ll ever get what it is like to be unemployed! All… all because you two decided you were too special to do as the rest of your species does! So don’t you dare say you’d trade place with me, you’ll never understand it! You didn’t think how your actions affected those around you! How selfish can you be?”

“Excuse me?!”   

Both Bronze Chainmail and Edward froze in place, ears flat against their skull as the shrill cry bounced loud over the pale green walls of the room. Shock stilled their bodies, the outburst so undeniably unexpected that neither knew quite how to react while Pierre grabbed onto his bed’ rails with shaking legs. Chainmail’s first instinct almost made him run up to his charge, but the fiery accusation in his eyes stopped him cold. Neither him nor Edward had ever seen such fury carved onto Pierre’s face.

“You’re the one that thought we were too suspicious to be real bicorns!” He shouted, standing up. “Or did you just conveniently block all that sweet little episode from your memory?! ‘Oh, hey, those two are probably changeling impersonators, no, wait, oops, they weren’t!’ But nooooo, we spend all our time telling you we’re not bicorns and you don’t care anymore.”

“Except you are bicorns!” Chainmail said, a vein on his neck twitching. “We had glamours purgation spell on you, we have the biological readings, hay, you have the horns on your head and you still say you’re a species nopony has ever heard of! Even if you don’t want to admit it, there’s no denying what you are.”

“And who would ever admit to it?! Who in their right mind would ever want to reveal they’re a bicorn to an Equestrian?! The second you decided the fucking horns on our heads are real, that literal second, we became toys for your petty pony princess!”

“Ho-how dare you?!” Chainmail bit back, anger and confusion flashing in his eyes. “We’ve… we’ve done nothing but help you since you stumbled into town.”

“Oh don’t make me cry! You think you’re the big victim here?” Pierre scoffed, and it was a sound more bitter than anything the guard had ever heard. “You think it’s normal to restrain adults and watch over them like babies. You think it’s fair to put them in reserves and lock the door so they’re ‘safe’! You think that because there aren’t many alive, the only thing to do is to force the ones that are to put out! And by far, the worst of it all is that you think anypony that doesn’t throw the towel and live the life you want them to is SELFISH!”

The word boomed in the small hospital bedchamber. It echoed through the open door, and a sense of stillness washed over them. Their surroundings had grown quiet.  

Chainmail took a step back, his ears flat on his skull. His anger forgotten, he seemed to want to try and get his charge to calm down, but the burning blush across his own face made it hard to gather the courage. His mouth opened, but nothing came out. 

Pierre pointed a hoof straight to him, his chest rumbling with mute anger. “You know... the worst part was that I thought you cared. For all the misguided attitude, I thought you at least worried about us on some level. But this? You just proved to me that we really aren't more than some princess' property. My favorite thing in the world is studying history, but it's not like you ever wondered that, did you? We're cattle to you. Don't deny it.”

“I-I, but, you…”

“You’re mad that we didn’t just let you put us in a dollhouse’s to ease someone else’s guilty conscience; you’re mad, not because we actually were in danger at some point, but because that reflects badly on you…” Pierre’s voice dropped to a harsh whisper, and his glare suddenly seemed to be piercing through his every layer of armor. “And you want an apology for that?”

Bronze Chainmail winced. “No, I, Pierre, you got it all wrong...”

“HAVE A NICE LIFE!”

Chainmail stood shocked and mute, his eyes unblinking and his breathing faint and sparse. He wanted to fight back, to tell Pierre how wrong he was, how unfair his argument was. He couldn’t. The words tripped over themselves in his mind, he couldn’t grasp at the right ones. He knew Pierre wouldn’t listen and Ed seemed just as shocked as he did.  

Instead, after a deep breath, he collected himself, returning to the proper stoic mask of a royal guard. “I'm a guard, Pierre. I risk my life for other ponies' safety. Feel free to think I'm selfish, but I know who really is.”

Turning stiffly, Chainmail trotted out of the room, leaving the two bicorns in a sullen silence, the tension thick and heated. It lasted all of a minute, before the elephant in the room was addressed.

“Damn, Pierre,” Edward said, blinking at his fuming companion. 

“Yeeah…” Pierre agreed, panting after his tirade. 

“So, you feel any better?”

Slowly, the heaving of his chest grew fainter, and the fire in his eyes dimmed into nothing. All at once, Pierre slumped into his place in the bed and hugged himself. “No.”

“Yeah.” Taking a deep breath of his own, Ed let forth a humorless chuckle. “I didn’t think so.”

The fight had left Pierre. He muttered to himself, his voice defeated, “We can’t run. She’s going to make sure of that now more than ever.”

There was the sound of sliding sheets, of springs creaking under weight, and a few hooves clopping over the tiled floor. When he glanced that way, Pierre saw Edward looking out their room’s window, a stoney expression etched over his face.

“Well, there is more than one way to win a war. If we can’t leave, we’ll make them regret keeping us here.” 

> Les Renforts
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The pony’s gaze swept across the dusty street and the barricaded houses. His muzzle scrunched up as he took in the dry morning air and hummed in disapproval. The town looked empty. 

He looked at the discarded tools and vendors lying around at odd angles. Wherever the denizens had gone, they’d left in quite the hurry. Well, he’d not come this far simply to turn back at the first hurdle. His horn burst into a pulsating aura. Slowly, with practiced ease, the energy flowed out, encompassing all it touched. 

Soft olive green light washed across the ground, floating lazily over the grass, then creeping up the houses’ walls. Minutes ticked by as the cloud of magic swept through the streets and the buildings of the town, and a subtle expression of displeasure carved itself on the unicorn’s face. 

His magic was as blind and barren as the street the caster sat upon. Standing and stunting his magic, he chose the simpler solution: if the townsfolk wouldn’t come to him, he’d go to them instead. 

The bearded pony smirked as he turned toward the isolated house, a quiet chime of bells ringing at the rim of his hat. The oaken door sat solid and well built, yet the simplest touch had it edge open. It made his smirk fade into something more thoughtful. Who would leave a door unlocked if they wanted to keep intruders out? 

One of less skill might assume the residents were simply gone, but he wouldn’t be fooled by such dreck, No, there was somepony, within these walls, somepony with the answers he sought. Taking a confident stride into the domain, he gazed over the slightest and most pressing details. The home was simple, plain, all in wood and sheets, built for necessity and nothing more. it added credibility to the rumors of migration he had heard, but only confirmation straight from the mouth of a living specimen could make it absolute fact. 

However, he thought as he looked down on the creaking floor, that does require this house to have been lived in. Once more, he let his gaze wash over the rooms. Where could they be? Suppose he wished to hide from a unicorn, where would he go?

With a scoff, Starswirl stepped into the hallway. If he were honest, most unicorns wouldn’t ever step in a place so remote from civilization in the first place. Their preoccupations were so much higher than the base living conditions of a pony tribe, like the importation of costly silk and spices from the Eastern Continent. Oh, that they were willing to fund without ends! If he had to listen to one more request about a mass teleportation spell, he would-- 

Hear the wood creak beneath somepony else’s hooves.

His heart skipping a beat, Starswirl forgot his ire and jumped into a gallop toward the end of the hallway. In that short moment, his cautions and his restraints had faded, for the prize of his quest might be so, so close. That room on the right end, that was where it had come from!

In a swirl of cape of hat, the old mage span to face the open doorframe, and felt his eyes shrink in shock at the pair of hooves shooting straight at his muzzle. 

A chime rang when they collided with a shimmering green wall, and Starswirl’s horn burned hotter as a whip of light swerved to strike back. An old trick, he smirked to himself, one that had won him many duels from the spell’s sheer velocity. The rippling line lashed like a thunderbolt, and burnt off naught but mere strands of the attacker’s coat. 

Starswirl’s mind buckled. That was not possible! The pony had ducked underneath a blow that should have been faster than their reflexes could have. Even pegasi had fallen for that! 

A large shadow fell over his face, and with a start, he realized he had been transfixed an instant too long. His attacker loomed over him, standing on his hind legs, his horns aimed for a blunt strike.

“Shofar! Peace!”

The stallion stilled, his forehead and horns inches away from a conjured shield. His eyes narrowed on the mage behind it, before the bicorn stepped back.

From behind him, two more ponies trotted closer. Starswirl’s brows furrowed, a small bead of sweat pearling at the tip of his mane, and he shot suspicious glances at both his attacker and the newcomers. 

The aggressive one looked hardly old enough to be past his twenties, as did the somewhat mousy mare that was coming closer. The two exchanged a meaningful silent exchange, their faces shining with worry, and Starswirl thought he understood. Lovers? Siblings? One of the two surely. 

But the third bicorn was grey, from old age and weariness. His steps were lighter, his movements quieter and in his gaze, Starswirl saw more than in any other pony. This one… knew.

“Forgive my son-in-law,” the elderly stallion started in a clear, vibrant voice, “he meant to protect us.”

“Even so, I'd prefer if his protection did not end in my injury, or more likely, his own. Might I ask why you were in such a rush to attack a guest?”

“It’s in our nature, for as long as we have wandered Equestria, other ponies have thought us acolytes of Discord. We have been shunned and thus we avoid those who would assume such evils of us.”

“You were created by Discord’s magic, were you not?” Starswirl asked, passing around the older stallion eyeing him up and down like he would a prized pet. 

“It is not that simple, it’s not like we chose this fate,” the mare behind the elder growled, glaring balefully at the stallion as he finished his lap around his first subject.

“Simple, of course it isn't simple,” Starswirl said, straightening to his full, but rather slim size. “Do you have any idea what magical forces it would take to be able to transmogrify this many ponies? No, no you wouldn’t,” he added more to himself, fidgeting endlessly with the rim of his jingling hat. 

Starswirl watched as the anger that had been directed so hastily at him was replaced with a confused and contemptuous look that showed just how little faith in his knowledge the mare had.  

“Does that even matter? It doesn’t change what happened to us, or the fact nopony has so much as tried to help us,” the younger stallion said as he stood in front of his wife, his face a mirror of his spouse’s. 

The corners of Starswirl’s lips twitched upward. The last time he had been challenged, that arrogant lad had not half as noble a reason as the simple bond between those two twin-horned lovers. Perhaps the whispers he had heard, the softer, less popular ones, had their own grain of truth to them. However, before either he or the lovers could speak again, the elder bicorn brought down all his strength and stomped the sanded wood beneath him. 

“That is enough, you two. While it is true most have chosen to hide from what they do not understand, this stallion has openly sought our audience. Exactly as I told you he would.”

Starswirl’s ears twitched, and his gaze studied the wizened stallion.

“B-but, father! You can’t mean this was the one you were so excited about,” the mare said, casting a wary glance back at Starswirl, who had seemed to have forgotten that her or her husband were even there.

“I do,” he whispered, his voice and his eyes strained, “a stallion whose every step breeds a chime of hope, and seeks a way, at the crossroads of a brand new day. Those exact words have echoed in my dreams for weeks; if this is not that stallion, then nopony is.” 

Starswirl sat, mulling over these words, he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. This old dual horned stallion spoke as if could cast a scrying spell, or had a way to see through time. Out of all the rumors he’d heard, none said that bicorns could wield magic. It was impossible, wasn’t it? Magic was the exclusive domain of unicorns. 

Now, more than ever, he could not leave emptyhoofed! 

Once again, the graying bicorn surprised him, and a spark of understanding ignited in his smile. “Yes, I believe it is decided then. Come with us, so you can be introduced properly.”

Starswirl’s muzzle scrunched up, a pang of irritation growing in his chest. He was not used to being cut so short in conversations, and the strange aura of knowing his contemporary cultivated felt equally familiar and grating. And was that a twinkle of amusement, in the elder bicorn’s eyes? 

Growling, grumbling, he nodded sharply, and the bicorns headed straight for the door, the two younger ones refusing to look in his direction. With a grimace on his lips, Starswirl followed them back into the depressingly empty streets. But as the dry air washed over his coat and his cape, the archmage felt a tingling sensation at the back of his neck. Was he being watched? he wondered. Discreetly, his gaze scanned his surroundings, and this time. he caught sight of them, in glimpses of colors through the opening of windows or doors. Everytime, the ponies slipped back to their hiding place. Twice, he saw an empty doorframe staring back at him, and he could have sworn there had been somepony there. And it clicked, some could tell when he would look. 

A small shiver of anticipation ran up his spine, and Starswirl’s steps became swifter behind his guide. He was being led to a plaza of sort. Their little group of four stopped by a rudimentary well. Starswirl’s three companions moved no further, and waited. Not for long. Slowly, bicorns poured out of most houses, and formed a large circle around them.

Whispers spread throughout the assembled bicorns, suspicions rising higher at the sight of the stranger in the company of their old sage. A few bolder ones stepped closer, their glares boring a hole through Starswirl’s skull, but they stopped short of breaking line outright. This was not yet their fight, but judging by the pawing and the lowered horns on some heads, it seemed more a matter of time. Subtly, his hat obscuring the glow of his horn, Starswirl prepared a few spells, just in case. 

“Brothers, sisters, I am glad to see that you have gathered,” called the old bicorn with a loud and clear voice. Eyes trailed off to follow him and the hoof that he aimed at the lone unicorn. “What is happening on this day is unprecedented. This is a stallion that wishes to learn of us, to understand us.”

A heavy silence fell on the assembly. The crowd staring at the older stallion dressed in his cape and hat, a group of thoughts and opinions formed as each collected themselves. For so long they’d had to hide, and now one of those who had cast them into obscurity stood before them, mocking the mass of ponies with his very presence. And slowly, the sparks of fear and anger spread from one pony to the other as the sea of whispers came into a crescendo. 

Starswirl’s legs tensed as he heard one mare, more brazen than the others, shout “He’s an outsider, one of them! Run him out of town before he attacks us like all the rest!”

Frantic, he scanned the faces around him for the one most likely to come forward and attack. If he was meant to continue this quest, he would need to earn their respect, one way or another.

“Peace,” suddenly cried out another mare, and to Starswirl’s surprise, he recognized her, no longer hesitant and hiding behind her lover. “Father’s knows what he’s doing! Please, calm down! Your fears are misplaced!”

Her words struck at the crowd. Incredulity painted itself on their faces, and on their lips was the same whisper. How so? What made this different from every other encounter with outsiders? They would come, the pegasi, the unicorns or the earth ponies. They would come wielding burning hatred for the Chaos Spirit and cold steel for their flesh. Abominations! Monsters! Chaos Spawns! What would this greying unicorn say today? What would he growl while looking down on their foals and their friends?

And the eyes that turned to Starswirl then burned with such hatred he felt his magic flicker. Every single one of his instincts were telling him to unleash his spellwork, to bear down his magical might on their frames and make them flee. Teeth gritted together, the mightiest archmage of Equestria calculated. 

But then came a gentle trotting sound, and an unthreatening presence arrived at his sides. Starswirl glanced and his eyes met a pair of light brown ones. 

“We will let you join our town, and observe and record whatever you see fit, but in return, you are not to wield your magic while amongst us,” the elder said, his voice silencing all others, even though he barely raised it a single octave. The crowd, looked on shocked, but not nearly as taken aback as the mage who sat slack jawed before the elder.   

No magic? What sort of madness would compel him to ever agree to a demand like this one? He easily pictured the royal court, hearing the words and descending into arguments over the indignity of such a repulsive condition. Yes, those fools would rather close away their only path to knowledge and success if it meant never ‘lowering’ themselves to act as every other pony tribe. 

And quite suddenly, Starswirl had to fight the impulse to grin. Foalish, of course, but this would certainly serve to shut up one Traditional Values and her endless posturing. Before he quite understood what he was doing, he lowered his head into a respectful bow. “I am merely a stranger requesting your hospitality and your acceptance. It would be unworthy to protest a request as simple as this one.”

There, this should suffice to fulfill the right courtesy, and hopefully ease the villagers’ mind toward his quest. No unicorn Starswirl had ever known would have accepted, not amidst complete unknowns. As he looked up however, he noticed a complete lack of surprise or fear in his interlocutor’s eyes. 

“So you accept this offer?” the elder asked, the crowd of onlookers standing skittishly behind him. “You give your word that you will not summon your magical power while within our town’s wall?”

A small voice at the back of his head whispered that this request was not purely for the graying stallion’s benefit. The other bicorns stared at him with fear, hidden to varying degrees. He had yet to see a single foal amongst them, which he understood on some level. His reputation might have preceded him. If Starswirl the Bearded made a choice, nopony in Equestria could stop him.

However, it was not as if he had any intent of hurting anypony. This was too good an opportunity to learn more about such an anomaly. Starswirl’s heart pounded in his chest, the mere implication that he would get to experience what no other scholar, mage, or for that matter, pony had ever gotten to study before had him positively ecstatic. 

“Of course I do, you said before you saw a future where I would be a vital part in your entire race’s future. Who am I, as a mage of this great empire, or a pony of any character to turn down such a role?”  

The elder nodded silently, then turning to his people, he smiled fondly. Though they were scared, he knew that with time, they would grow to see just how special this day would mean. 

--

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Puppet Soldier over there hasn’t been sacked for his mistake last night.” The words made Chainmail’s ears twitch, but he kept his gaze forward. 

“He does refuse to look you in the eyes though,” Edward added with some touch of amusement.

“You know what? I don’t even care anymore,” his friend sighed.

“Then that is just another victory for them.”

Pierre’s face scrunched up, the words striking him more than he wanted to admit. He never really was a man for stupid petty conflicts, present company excluded, though he could not quite stop the bitter taste of resentment from filling his mouth at the thought of their futures. Then again, he no longer was a man, was he?

His eyes narrowed on the burnt orange stallion, on his armor that shone well in the morning light and the cutie mark on his flanks. A roman-like helmet shifted on Chainmail’s fur, and a scornful thought came to Pierre’s mind. Yeah, a protector, right. 

As if feeling the inquisitive eyes trailing him, Chainmail looked back and his gaze locked with Pierre’s. There was little in the way of emotion amidst those dark brown pools, so unlike earlier in the hospital room. He was guarded, almost stoic, and were it not for a slight tension in the stallion’s jaw, Pierre might have believed it.

“Don’t waste your time, soap dodger,” Edward’s words cut his train of thoughts. “He’s never going to let go of his strings.”

The guard flinched, his shoulders tensing. Pierre almost protested then, but the accusation of selfishness still clung to his skin. Chainmail didn’t deserve any word to his defense.

“We’re here,” the guard said.

As they walked around the corner of the street, the two bicorns noticed a small number of ponies waiting just in front of their house. At the front, the unmistakable presence of  certain princess, speaking to those assembled near her. And, this they realized with a small spike of their heartbeats, every other pony wore an uniform not unlike Chainmail’s.

“You have got to be kidding me?! You didn’t really call up more overbearing guards, did you?” Ed called loudly, eyes flicking between the new faces. 

“It’s not as if you gave me much choice. You continously act recklessly and Chainmail has been proven too little security to guarantee your protection,” Twilight said, her face a smug grin, as she looked over the three new guards. Chainmail for his part remained stalwart, refusing to meet anypony’s eyes. 

“Given how little he cares, not that surprising,” Pierre huffed. “Qui gardera les gardes? And all that.”

“Well, somepony is a little pissy. Good to know.” The sole female guard laughed. 

Stung, Pierre couldn’t hold it in and lashed out. “Suce ma queue!”

“What’s the matter?” the mare asked in a cold, biting tone. “Scared to insult me in a language I know?”

Pierre’s eyes went between her and the princess. Something strange passed in his gaze, an unfamiliar calculating light, and he suddenly drawled, “Wow, really? Twilight, I know you hated me and all that is good in the world, but you went and got us a female Edward? You bitch...”

“Dude, I will strangle you,” the Brit said. Glaring at Pierre, with one hoof, he pointed at the staring mare, and stomped. “She is nothing like me, just a snarky bat.”

Pierre smirked. “Ah, clearly, the fact that you are a snarking, assholish goat suffices to make you very different people.”

“Look, we have known each other quite a while, she has literally said two words to you and you assume she is my twin. Please, go fuck yourself, thank you.” 

A sly, mischievous grin on his face, the French stallion ignored his simmering friend and looked at the guards assembled. “You, miss bat, are you dismissive of everything people feel or is that just a passing trend?”

The mare’s amber eyes glittered for a second with something akin to amusement, and she opened her mouth, her fangs sharp as the reply she wanted to throw back, but a flash of light cut her short.

“That is enough, all of you! Pierre, Edward, please take a seat,” Twilight barked, catching the attention of the squabbling duo. Grumbling, they sat down on the small wooden bench on their front lawn. Once they were both seated and attentive, she nodded and her wing flared toward the guards. “Good, now may I introduce you to your new, day and night shift protection?”   

“No please, by all means, I’m dying to know the names of my jailers,” Ed said, rolling his eyes, and flailing a limb in an exaggerated prompt. 

Ignoring her charge, as it seemed to be the best way to deal with his sarcasm, Twilight turned and smiled sweetly at the guards. “Now, one at a time, would you introduce yourself and tell us your station? A good introduction can do wonders for ponies interactions.” 

“Oh, of course, let me,” The new solar guard stepped up, giving a wide smile, and high spirited salute. “My name is Attention Span, I’m a private, and I’m super happy to be here.” The spry private gave a bow before turning and motioning for his dark counterpart to step up.

The second guard was a large grim looking batpony; his eyes drifted across the room, his form seeming to coil at every movement and shadow. “Tempered Steel, sergeant in the Night guard,” he said flatly, before stepping back and giving a gruff grunt.   

The final guard, the female bat guard stepped up, an easy smile and bored look on her face. She nodded to the princess and glanced at the two bicorns. “My name is Belfry. I’m a corporal, a real pleasure. Oh, and to answer Prenchy’s little outburst earlier, I speak my mind, it’s not my problem if you can’t handle what I have to say."   

Briefly, Pierre’s eyes widened in surprise, and he put a hoof to his mouth. A sound like muffled laughter came out. “You don’t say?”

The look he gave Edward was that of smug superiority.

“I know where you sleep, you little shite,” Edward hissed. 

Pierre looked unimpressed. “We are sleeping in the same house, crétin.”

A gray hoof nearly pushed him to the ground. “Anytime you want to go, you wanka.”

“That is enough!” A purple aura pushed them apart, and from their sides, Twilight sighed. “All you two do is bicker. I can’t figure out how you two are friends, let alone how you willingly decided to run off to the Everfree together.”  

Edward’s muzzle twisted into a sneer. “It’s simple. We hate you more.”

Snickering, Belfry sauntered up between the stallions and put her legs around their necks. “I have a feeling foalsitting you two is going to be a lot of fun.” 

Edward stepped away from the mare, repressing a shiver. “Yeah, cause everyone loves spending time with a mare who has bats in her belfry.” 

“Never heard that one before,” Belfry deadpanned, and turned to her princess while he scoffed to himself.

Princess Twilight seemed to be debating whether to let that altercation slide or scold them for it. At this point, they were making her doubt their ability to control their mouths at all. Perhaps that was a venue she should consider...

Blinking, she shook her head and focused on the more important matters. “Now, starting from today, you three will be aiding Bronze Chainmail in his task of protecting the two bicorns known as Edward Finch and Pierre Delarue. Tempered Steel is to take charge of this mission and shifts will be left to his discretion. In addition, take note that both Edward and Pierre are to be kept in house arrest indefinitely, until I rescind this order.”

She expected protests, angry shouts and cynical destructive comments then. So she had already formed proper arguments in her head to rebuke them, knowing their strange and strong tempers. With any luck, her words would reach them this time, perhaps sinking in once they had time to properly reflect on them in their home away from any sort of toxic influence... 

And that flicker of hope, that small spark in her chest was blown away with one look at them. Edward and Pierre both stood completely still, not even making a sound. But their eyes, oh their eyes burned. They held such hatred then that she felt her heart jump in her throat. For a fleeting moment, her instincts urged her to teleport away, or risk staying anywhere near those stallions that wished their glares could murder.

Her guards moved in a flurry of armors and muscles, placing themselves around the alicorn and the two bicorns. Bronze Chainmail glared them down, a snarl on his face, but the other three surrounded Pierre and Edward with a bit more caution, at three hoof’s lengths. For a tense moment, the guards waited in hopes their charges wouldn’t prove violent, and none moved. Until one optimistic, idealist guard gently placed a hoof on the maroon bicorn’s shoulder and shook his head. 

A dozen emotions passed over Pierre’s face, and a meter away, on Edward’s. Tight restraint battled over with anger and fear in flashes, and the sight squeezed at one princess’ heart, yet the two prisoners relaxed, and were led inside in silence. Of the last Twilight saw of them that day were a pair of icy blue eyes glaring a hole through her skull.

--

Pierre laid on the soft covers of his bed with a pensive look on his face. He had not been able to stay downstairs very long, not when the constant bickering between Edward and Belfry were giving him a proper headache. The irony was not lost on him, hard to when they had both pointed it out as he left the living room. And better yet, the other batpony had insisted on following him upstairs.

It truly seemed like they weren’t going to be left alone anymore. Turning, Pierre tried to ignore the stallion near the door and glanced at the single clock above. It was all he had to look at.

The bareness of his bedroom’s walls felt incredibly impersonal. There was nothing of him in that room, it was more akin to a college room before anyone had moved in. All necessities, neutral. It made him feel the loss of his home with an acute pang of nostalgia in his chest. He missed his old things, heck his own messes even, his old life...  

Pierre’s face slowly fell as he turned his gaze to the window showing the outside world. Ah! He’d already started thinking of their ‘home’ as a prison. Great going, he congratulated himself. Finally a logical reaction. And the few ponies wandering down in the streets below looked all so blissfully oblivious, all so happy. They didn’t care about bicorns, regardless of how much they said they did.

“Say, is there any rule against inviting ponies here?" 

The larger stallion watched him passively. “Who and why?’”

Pierre smiled sheepishly, as if confessing to a small shame. “I wished to talk to Miss Rarity again, about my suit. It needed a few adjustments and I thought I should take care of that as soon as possible.”

“If they are willing, they may come.”

At that, Pierre suppressed a grimace. If Twilight had had the time to say anything to her friends… He buried his face into his hooves, groaning.

Tempered Steel’s features softened, and his lips twitched into the shadow of a smile. His voice became surprisingly soft. “Relax. My job does not include passing judgment on you. Regardless of what you do.”

Pierre’s ears ticked at that. Well, that was a fatherly scolding if he ever heard one. And, looking up to see his bodyguard’s gentle urging, he felt a bit more red go to his cheeks. “Right, okay… I know I’ve been on a short fuse today. I’ll apologize later. It’s been a terrible night and I just about had it with all the bullshit ponies throw at us.”

“We only want to protect you,” came the rehearsed line. Tempered Steel had not hesitated for a second... Damn him for making it sound sincere!

“Right, I forgot. Everything ponies do or say about bicorns is merely to help them thrive as a species. Sorry, I was questioning the dogma and that is wrong.” Pierre frowned at the stoic unresponsive guard. A bit more hotly, he added, “There is nothing wrong with putting ponies under house arrest for leaving the town! Nothing whatsoever! That’s what you think, right?!”

For sole reaction, Tempered Steel levelled a neutral glance at him, then shuffled in his place to stretch his wings. Not a word came out of him, and Pierre suddenly had to fight a blush.

“No judgment, right.” He deflated and sighed. Why was he getting embarrassed like an unruly child being put in his place? This was ridiculous! Biting his lips, he waved a hoof toward the door. “I suppose you won’t be the one to carry the invitation...?”

A corner of the batpony’s mouth very slightly twitched. “If you stay downstairs while I go.”


--

He had come downstairs to a scene not unlike what he had imagined, namely Edward and Belfry attempting to flatten the other with biting sarcasm and careful indifference. Briefly, the sight of them brought a smug grin to his face, just long enough to be noticed by one curious Attention Span.

Despite himself, Pierre’s tail twitched and he lowered his gaze. From the corner of his eyes, he caught sight of Edward storming off, a long series of British expletives flowing out of his mouth at high speed. The dark purple mare chuckled, and trotted after him.

His face heating up slightly, Pierre levied his gaze at Attention Span. “I apologize for my outburst earlier. I was too on edge and reacted inappropriately.”

The young stallion’s face lightened up as he trotted to place himself next to his charge.

“Hey, that’s okay, we all have our moments. You haven’t seen angry till you’ve had to deal with a high ranking pony that takes out his ugly month on you. Heck, I’ve been there! I remember this one time in basic training, there was this cadet who liked to pick on me. I got so mad, I just started yelling... it was awful,” Attention Span said, laughing at the memory. 

Pierre could not help but smirk at that. It seemed rather mild if he had merely shouted at one of his tormentors. “It could happen to anyone, Span,” he replied mildly, his own behavior coming back to mind.

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t sweating a bit, thinking on how things might unfold with Chainmail next. The guy seemed the type to take his job very seriously, and his ranting had been a blow to his pride and his motivations. If that turned to resentment, it would really make their lives miserable… well, more than it already was. For now, there was no sign of the orange stallion’s presence on the first floor or the second. Was he standing watch outside?

Perhaps they’ve noticed the damages to the bush underneath Ed’s window? he wondered. That could explain why a guard had followed him to his room. That could also explain why, right in the face of complete rejection, Belfry was shadowing Edward everywhere he tried to go. Though, to be fair, she would likely do that regardless of orders.

“Say,” Attention Span cut in, “do you mind if I ask you something?”

“Sure, I guess...” Pierre shrugged in spite of his wariness.

“Why are you pushing those two together? I thought you were friends. And against relationships.”

He almost laughed out loud.

“Actually, I just find it refreshing to see someone who can match snark with Edward.” Pierre’s eyes followed his friend as he stormed off the kitchen and sat down at a desk at the far end of the room. “That, and it annoys him.”

Attention Span shot him a strange look, confused, trying to figure out if that was a joke. Had it been about something else, Pierre probably would have been self-conscious, but in this instance, it slid off his back easily. Nopony seemed to really get the kind of hostile friendship he shared with Edward. So he shrugged and dropped down onto the couch. Crazy obsessive behavior asides, Twilight did have good taste in sofas. Oh yes, in his current state, he could compare with the standard hospital bed that had left his back feeling crooked, and their couch was indeed superior. Slowly, his head sank into the cushion, and Pierre’s eyes fluttered close.

His mind drifted somewhat as the heat of the sun’s ray washed over his coat of fur. A smile spread his lips apart. He could almost smell the cinnamon in the air, when the baker pulled the rolls out of the oven early on, and Pierre felt an ache in his chest when he realized the name of the bakery had slipped out of his mind. Monsieur Depardieu swore loudly, and laughed loudly, and did everything with a fierce joviality, and he was easy to remember, but what was the name of his daughter, with her white apron and her face sometimes covered in flour? What else had he forgotten?       

And Pierre’s smile faded, his look more a thoughtful anger. It was a strand of his mane on his face, not his hair. It was no blanket, but his fur. More like… the neighbour’s dog. That thing drove him nuts, barking at every hour of the day or night. But he almost missed it, if only... 

Their door slammed opened like the crack of thunder.

He fell to the ground with a loud crashing noise, and the poor stallion blinked away stars. To his addled mind, the shadow in their doorframe looked blurred. And yet he did recognize her, in some distant part of his mind when her voice rang loud and clear, half-triumphant, half-panicking. 

“I came here as fast as I could!”

Pierre barely had time to blink, and then he was being dragged upstairs, led by a hoof glowing blue. Stuttering, the poor stallion felt his legs get tangled in the haste of their movement. Oh Seigneur! His hoof caught the edge of a step and he barely managed not to trip. 

Worse yet, he could feel Tempered Steel breathing at his back, his eyes likely watching Rarity very carefully. In her haste to restore a work of fashion, she had forgotten to be, perhaps, a bit more gentle. When she let go of him and he was allowed a moment to sit down unharmed, his sigh of relief was not for himself alone.

“Dear oh dear, what ever happened?” The mare looked at the outfit frantically, up and down, searching for the flaw that required her touch. “Tell me, darling, what has gone wrong with your suit?!”

And Pierre suddenly thanked his lucky star Edward had no knowledge of his ploy. How over-the-top would his British friend’s sneer be, if he realized that Pierre had not thought that far ahead. 

“Oh, well, it’s...” He cleared his throat and bought himself a few more precious seconds to think up a reason for her presence. “It’s not the suit itself so much as it was the… style.”

Rarity did a double take. “...The style?” 

“Yes, it was a bit too fancy. Like, my date didn’t even wear clothes so I was a bit overdressed. And everywhere I went, ponies turned around to stare.” Which, of course, couldn’t have been because they were a bicorn couple, noooooo. “I like the colors! Really, I do!” He raised his hooves in front of him. “But perhaps if you could make it a little less fancy, that’d be great.”

Rarity hummed, deep in thoughts as she began to circle him. She considered his built, his nervous look, and something seemed to click behind her eyes. With a quiet gasp of inspiration, the seamstress lifted the gem-covered suit from its coat-hanger. “Oh, I believe I do see the problem. Yes, yes, a touch too much here, and there, so if I were to redo the stitch around the withers, then...” 

She went on for a few more instants - seconds, minutes? -, and Pierre had to resist the urge to squirm. With three ponies in the small bedroom, the temperature in the air seemed to have risen. 

Gulping down, Pierre glanced at Tempered Steel in the background. The batpony’s amber eyes had not left him since coming back, and he dared not make a move toward the window. Not that he wanted to, he had something else in mind, but damn if he didn’t feel caged up at this point.

Seigneur Dieu, he hoped this worked!

His heartbeat quickened as soft fabric pressed against his chest. Rarity’s magic tingled his fur, and he stiffened in response. Had his thoughts showed on his face? They were definitely screwed if one of their guards figured out what he was trying to do. His smile widened to the point it hurt.

Rarity, deep in thoughts, overlooked his wooden show of innocence entirely.

“Hmm, I would need to redo a few stitches to modify it to your tastes.” Her gaze went up and met his. Their serious was almost enough to make Pierre feel taken back. She spoke almost without an accent, so focused she was. “...Are you certain you want me to do this? It’ll be much harder to return your suit to its previous state if I go through with it.”

Just the day before, she had been ecstatic for him and had all but carried him to the date he had himself agreed to. Somber, he pushed down the bubbling guilt in his chest and nodded. 

“Very well,” Rarity said quietly, and began to work.

At first, the fitting unfolded as his last meeting with her had. Her eyes looked at him critically, professionally, and she muttered things under her breath he did not catch. That little formality done, an image of sort had been formed in her mind, and she dressed him to start the work proper. The most recent events fresh in his mind, Pierre’s body was tense as a chord. It luckily did not impair her work, albeit she did frown ever so slightly.

A small part of him wanted nothing more than to relax. After all, he was getting dressed by Rarity for the second time. How many bronies wished they could say the same? Back home-

Back home, Pierre thought with a flinch.

“I’m sorry, darling. Did I pinch you?” At the shake of his head, she smiled in relief. Her horn flashed briefly as the laces on his chest tightened. “And how did that date of yours go? Did you dazzle that mare with your Prench charms?”

“I wish.” Pierre sighed wistfully, lost for a second at his recollection of Fortune. “I was completely awkward during dinner and had no idea what to say that didn’t make me sound crazy or perverted. At least the walk around town afterward was nice.”

“Our little town does have its charms.” Rarity nodded knowingly. “Where did you go?”

“We trotted around the marketplace mostly. There were plenty of stalls, and the things they sell were interesting.” Then, without prompting, Pierre added softly, “I bought Fortune a tulip. She loved it.”   

“My, my,” Rarity giggled and nudged him playfully, “is it just me or did that sound like a certain mare had stolen your heart?.”

Pierre’s tail twitched violently, and he looked a colt discovered with a hoof in the cookie jar. Even through his fur, both his seamstress and his bodyguard could see the spectacular blush on his face.

“Yes, no, I like her, but maybe not...” He sighed and hung his head. “It’s complicated. She’s a kind, pretty mare, for sure, but...”

“But what?”

“I… I just don’t think I’m ready for this, Rarity. Not like that,” he confessed, his ears drooped down.

Rarity let out a silent sigh. Oh, she understood him. Long had she searched for a stallion that would whisk her off her hooves and begin a new chapter of their lives. And sometimes, she looked to her life, full of adventures and breathtaking trials of fashion, and she did not know if she had a right to sacrifice some of it just yet. “I understand those things take time, Pierre. You will change your mind as time pass you by.”

“I know I won’t. Not when I have a princess looking over my shoulder telling me ‘if not this one, another should do the trick’.”

For the first time since coming, Rarity’s smiled turned into an uneasy grimace. “I-I would imagine that could be… uninspiring. But surely, if you were to find the right mare...”

“It’s not about the mare, Rarity. It’s everyone else. I could find my one true love and it wouldn’t matter, because I’d never be able to know that we stay together by choice. It’s a bicorn’s duty. What would she think of me after her fifth, her seventh, her tenth pregnancy?” Pierre’s eyes stared right through the seamstress, pinning her on the spot. They were clouded over, as if he could see far away, this future he feared. “What if she gets sick of it? What if she resents me or the foals? What then? We spend the rest of our lives unhappy to serve some grand ideal in the sky, and see it happen all over again with each of our children.”

Rarity bit her lips as the poor bicorn seemed to crumble, and her eyes sought the handsome bodyguard for help, but he merely observed the situation with a blank gaze. The mask flickered for but the shortest moment, yet Tempered Steel made no move. It was not his place to speak of his charges’ future.

“Pierre, it isn’t like that,” Rarity said, the words shaking with small tremors. Her hoof stroke his shoulder gently, but her smile didn't quite reach her eyes. “This will not happen to you, I promise.”

Empty words. Well-meaning, empty words. He was tempted to begrudge her for that, for offering so little, but at least she tacitly acknowledged that the fate Equestria demanded of them could be terrible. She might have been the first. 

Pierre chuckled mirthlessly. “Ah, but it’s our duty, right? So it’s not a big deal if it does happen, at least we’ll have secured another generation.”

A heavy silence fell in the room after that. Even the faint chime of Rarity’s magic had faded away, the mare staring at her hooves without a word. If Pierre had twisted his neck, or stepped down from his small pedestal, he might have seen the guilty, bitter expression on her face. Briefly, her hoof went to the crook of her neck, scratching at an invisible object.

As if a switch had been flipped, she looked up and opened her mouth… and closed it. Unable to bring herself to speak as she had before, Rarity set out to adjust the stitches on his suit, avoiding his gaze entirely.

Pierre’s eyes followed the needles floating in the air, and they looked a little unsteady in Rarity’s grasp. It had been a little cruel, to throw back her words at her like this. She had seemed sincere to him, today as well as before. It was no out of malice, he knew. Equestria had run this way for a thousand years and she was merely repeating what she had been taught growing up. But Twilight Sparkle, announcing they were under house arrest flashed in his memory, and the pang of guilt in his chest flickered. They had no choice, because the ponies were giving them none! 

“Can you imagine a version of Equestria without bicorns?” he asked with a falsely nonchalant tone. “I can. And it’s frankly a better place for it.”

“Pierre!” Rarity gasped, her eyes almost bulging out, and her thoughts were clear as day. What are you saying?! 

“What?” He shrugged innocently, as if he didn’t get why she looked scared for him. “I’m not saying that it’s wrong for them to exist, but--”

“Us,” Tempered Steel cut in. 

Startled, both Pierre and Rarity turned around to see the batpony they had forgotten. His amber eyes focused entirely on his bicorn charge, and the intensity of it made Pierre’s skin crawl. Those were eyes that could - and did - cowl a bunch of unruly soldiers. 

But then, the bicorn’s jaw tensed, and he frowned. “...Them, Sergeant. I’m not that far gone yet. And I know exactly what I’m saying. If there were no bicorns, if we’d all just be pegasi, unicorns or earth ponies instead, Equestria would not be a kingdom with institutionalized slavery.”

From behind him came a soft, quiet gasp, followed by the tinkle of metal bouncing against wood. Rarity stared at him in horror, gaping, as if he had slapped her. 

Tempered Steel fared not much better. He had stilled, his gaze a mixture of disbelief and anger. 

Pierre felt bubbles of joyless laughter rise in his throat. Were they really so shocked?! Duty, love, for the greater good… those little words had so much power over their consciences that they even forgot what they were doing. He wanted to shake them and shove the truth down their throats. A pretty, gilded golden cage and a big family did not change it, the illusions did not change it and the fake concern did not either.

And this time, he could not hide it, he could not mask the bitterness and the resentment as he glared at them both. “King Sombra was evil, wasn’t he?”

“It’s not...” she choked on her words. “...not this... We don’t...”

Pierre chuckled. His mouth twisted in a smile so hollow, and it made her skin crawl. You are doing this to us, it said and growled and screamed. Her fault, their fault, because they were forcing them, because they said they were from another world, and those two were not taught that it was right, and now she could not look him in the eyes anymore. She feared that if she did, a part of her world would unravel forever under the shadow of a tyrant with a blood red horn. 

“I’ll… I’ll come back when your suit is ready, Pierre.”

And with that, Rarity fled the house, the accusation following her throughout the streets to her boutique.
--

Edward sat, motionless at his desk, staring blankly at the book in front of him. His muse was a perfect start toward his plot, but only that. With him and his only ally stuck isolated from anyone who might pose useful, he had to improvise. A skill, while he was confident he had a knack for, he despised relying on. 

The sound of someone approaching had him turn about. The youngest guard – Ed forgot his name, or chose to forget it, either way it didn't matter – approached cheerily. A wide naive smile blocked the seriousness of the world around him. 

“What are you doing?” Attention Span asked, peeking over Ed’s shoulder and glossing the book enthusiastically. 

Ed shoved the pesky private away, and shut the book hard. “I’m preparing the sequel to my misson impossible, of course. Since you are here, why don’t you give me your schedule and that of your little puppet friends. That would save me the trouble.”

“W-what? No way! I can’t do that!” the private gasped, eyes widening in shock. “In fact, hmm, I think I should be trying to find out your plans and thwart them as soon as possible.”

Ed sat eyes closed slowly rubbing a hoof over a temple. “Confound these ponies and their inability to detect sarcasm...”

Belfry scoffed at his distress, walking in from the front room. “You’re kidding, right? Nightmare Moon could hear it from the moon, some of us,” looking at her nervous companion, “Are just too nice to call you on it.” 

“You certainly exude kindness from your every pore. And snideness, but mostly kindness, of course.”

“Of course.” Belfry grinned with all her teeth, and hooked a hoof around his shoulder. “I am a servant of the public, your happiness is my number one priority. That’s why we have you on lockdown, gotta keep my overwhelming joy from flooding into the streets.”  

“Ah, I’m sure that would drown a few bugs here or there. Or maybe an unlucky fellow that fell face first into that puddle.”

Her ears ticking in annoyance, her smile slightly less prominent, Belfry deadpanned, “Cute, but excuse me, kettle, I think I have a letter for you from pot. It says, you’re black.” 

Attention Span who had been watching the duo’s back and forth warily tapped Belfry on the shoulder, having her turn to him a look like a creature from hell smoldering beneath her calm surface. “Ummm, Belfry, Black Kettle hasn’t sent us any mail since we got here.” 

Just like that, Belfry’s fire was gone, the ashes scattered to the wind as her young comrade looked on hopefully.  

“Too nice, huh?” Ed said, his laughter barely being suppressed at the sight of the defeated mare. 

“Shut up,” Belfry growled before turning and walking into the kitchen to cool off. “Surrounded by idiots and grumps...”

“Right, whatever you say,” Ed taunted, turning back to his papers. 

A few more precious seconds of silence ticked by at the rythm of the grandfather’s clock on the wall. He did not question his lucky star, considering how sparse that thing seemed to remember he existed. He plunged his muzzle back in the sole volume he owned.

“You know…” Attention Span said thoughtfully, tapping his chin with his hoof. “I’ve never seen a pony that can outargue Belfry before, it’s kinda scary.”

Edward flipped the page, making a mental note of the content he had read. Without a glance up, he muttered, half-heartedly, “I’ll take your word for it, kid.” 

To his annoyance, the stallion - teenager, maybe? The guy looked and acted more childish than Pierre! - leaned in closer to read over his shoulder. The fur at the back of Edward’s neck tingled and his hooves clenched over the corners of the book.

“So, what are you doing, for real I mean?” Attention Span asked, as earnest as he was oblivious.

“Research,” Ed said in a clipped one, “have to keep myself preoccupied somehow, with the little information I have.”

“What do you mean, so little?”

“Well, I don’t have any books here, and I can’t leave. Do the math, sunshine.”

“It’s Attention Span, and maybe I could go get you some.” 

“Really, that’d be useful, maybe you aren’t as brain dead as I thought.”

“I’m glad to help, and, ummm, it’s Attention Span, not Brain Dead…” the young guard said, his words losing volume and energy as he thought through the almost compliment. 

Edward returned to his work, only to be once again interrupted by the wails of a certain prissy fashionista. He pondered what idiot comment Pierre could have made to get her so riled up, only to have her dash through the front room and out the door. 

“Woah! What do you think got her so upset?” Attention span asked, his face having lost its normal joyous smile. Ed was surprised at how worried the private looked, which only had him all the more curious.

“I don’t know, Rarity may overreact, but that was something far more than that,” Ed said. Stepping from his spot at the desk, he joined Attention Span as he followed Rarity’s trail to the still open door. 

Together, they watched as she ran through the town, earning countless stares from those on the streets. 

Whatever Pierre had done, it had worked. A breach had made its way through the blissful ignorance the masses seemed to shield themselves with. Whether Pierre had insulted her, or finally brought the Bicorn problem to her attention, he’d cracked that armor. 

Ed turned to his saddened companion, who was still watching the road even after Rarity had long gone. “Span, I would like to take you up on your offer.”

For a second, it seemed as if the private was too lost in his own thoughts to have heard him. Before Ed could try again however, the private turned toward him. He wore a smile, not like the one from before, but one all the same. 

“Which offer?” Attention span asked.

Edward motioned for the private to move in, and then shut the door. Casually, Ed walked back toward the main room, he’d need to talk to Pierre, but first he had to thin the enemy ranks. 

“You said you wouldn’t mind picking me up some supplies. If I write you up a quick and general list, can I count on you to find what you can?” Ed asked, looking back a devilish glint in his eye.

The private nodded eagerly, his smile becoming all the wider. “Sure, anything to help.” 

Turning back, Ed sat back at his desk, and with a bit of awkward shuffling took up a pen. A moment later, he held up a sloppy but legible list of supplies, ranging from more paper and pens, to books on history, both general and Bicornian. Attention Span took the list and gave it a once over, nodding in satisfaction. With his usual enthusiasm, the stallion waved and exited through the door.

“Where is he going?” Belfry asked, sliding in alongside Ed. 

Ed cringed. He hadn’t thought the mare could be so quiet when she wasn’t trying to instigate something. “I sent him off to do some shopping; if I’m to be stuck in here, I deserve to have something to keep me occupied.”

“I highly doubt that, but we’ll seen soon enough won't we,” Belfry said, eying Edward suspiciously. 

“And what exactly do you mean by that?” Ed asked, returning Belfry’s look with a suspicious one of his own. 

Belfry shook her head nonchalantly, and walked off again. Something that was beginning to grind on Ed’s nerves. “Just a feeling, that’s all,” she said, as she made her way to the stairs. 

“She might actually pose a problem,” Ed said, ruminating on what exactly the bat mare was playing at. Cunning and devious plots were his shtick, and he wasn’t to fond of someone stepping into his territory. It would have to wait. Scrabbling down a memo for later, he rose and plotted off to find his french henchman. By the end of this, everyone would see the truth, Twilight may have thought she’d won, it this was only the beginning. A demo, he was testing the waters, and the temperature was perfect.    

> Same Page, Different Books 
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Starswirl grumbled a lot, the bicorns realized soon enough. He grumbled against the dirt that crusted his beard, the sun that dried the ink on his quill, the cracking nearly inedible dry plants they had to offer. On his little stool, overlooking the town’s square from the elder’s balcony, the olden unicorn scribbled all day. If they did not look for him, the inhabitants did not see him.

More than a few bicorns agreed with that arrangement. Starswirl’s heavy gaze promised tempests and mystical mysteries in quick altercations, and a poor mare had nearly had a nervous breakdown, thinking his glowing horn meant he had been aggravated enough to attack.

At the moment, Starswirl’s eyes trailed after a small herd of foals playing around a slightly more robust house. His mouth was set in a thin line.

“Are you puzzled?” asked a voice nearly as old as his own. “It is a game our community has played since its beginnings, but there is little to say the unicorns of Gallopfrey did as well.”

The grand mage’s eyebrow arched, fixing one of his ancient eyes on his new companion. “Why would such foalplay confuse me? Tis all rather simple. One imitates a predator of a sort, the others must evade him until such times they are caught and take its place. I have been witness to such games amongst earth ponies and common unicorns many times before.” 

“Yes, but there is frustration written upon your face,” the elder bicorn pointed out to Starswirl’s annoyance. “If not its content, then its players…? Which foal provoked your ire?”

Starswirl’s head dipped a hint lower, hiding his features under the rims of his belled-hat. Yet, the elder bicorn could still read in the wavering of his friend’s impressive beard ripples like more silent grumbling.

“That filly, the one with fair mane,” -- his quill twisted in the air and pointed straight at a giggling filly -- “she twice hid from sight before she could possibly know of the chaser’s presence upon the corner.”

Both stallions paused their conversations as childish shouts erupted from the group. One slightly burlier colt galloped after the rest of the foals, loudly proclaiming his certainty that this time, he’d get them!

And the elder watched with twinkles of laughter in his eyes, as Starswirl’s targeted filly emerged from the shadows of a gallery. The chaser had bypassed her completely. Now, she quietly ran in the opposite direction, safe for a time.  

“Ah yes, Autumn Breeze. Quite the cunning foal, that little one. Or, I imagine, you would prefer to call her lucky. But was it really impossible for her to feel her pursuer’s presence before her senses could inform her?”

The elder’s knowing smile taunted Starswirl with the promise of hidden knowledge. 

“Mayhaps that was merely your assumption, mage.”

Starswirl’s lips quirked. “Is it not what one could expect from an outsider? Did we not promise each other an effort to be understanding of our respective species?” 

“A fair point, surely, but we have had good reasons to hide away before.” The elder bicorn gazed on the busy streets and the community it hosted. Every wrinkle on his face seemed to deepen with the weight of more than mere years of life. “...What will you do with your researches once you leave us?”

“Present them to the rest of Equestria.” The mage’s ever present scowl faded around the edges as he stroked his beard, deep in thoughts. “At least to the temporary leaders, so they may begin to mend the bridge between our sub-species. None of you are the monsters stories paint you to be.”

“Those may be the most heartfelt words you have ever said to us, friend.” The elder trotted slowly back inside, his silhouette pausing in the doorframe. He looked back to Starswirl, his eyes suddenly haunted. “Have you ever wondered if knowing beforehoof the impacts of your actions make them worse? What would you do if you only knew a single outcome at a terrible crossroad? Would you change your mind then?”


---


“The fifth amendment, signed in 830 AU, would move on to protect our bicorn friends from the harmful effects of stressful lives. The Academy Winning Award of the year, Miss Worry Wart, had discovered that high responsibilities and pressure could shorten a pony’s lifespan.”

Huh, the private blinked. That tone of voice sounded just like his old history teacher. Maybe it was a universal principle of history lessons that just made them harder to focus on. A hoof to his chin, he pondered the thought and brought his ear to the door.

“The Princess proceeded to immediately strive toward replacing working bicorns who had been unknowingly shortening their precious time in Equestria.” Span heard something like curses while a burst of vibrations shook the door. The heavy slam followed an angry snort, and the tone of voice changed for a low rumbling growl. “And thus the bitch just caused more innocents to lose their rights. Marvelous...”

Hearing his charge’s voice, Attention Span jolted back, remembering his purpose here. After a few strong knocks, he allowed himself in Edward’s room. 

“Hey, Mr. Edward, I got you your books. I even ran into the element of Kindness,” Span said, tossing his saddlebag onto the desk. Papers scattered hither and thither, Span slowly rubbing a foreleg across the other, eyes downcast, a slight blush a bloom across his nose.

Ed didn’t respond, instead setting out upon gathering his research, grumbling to himself. Each paper he collected was placed neatly back on the table. A deliberate and tempered pace being set, while all the while he carefully eyed the still motionless private.    

“Uh, anyway, Ms. Fluttershy was really nice when I bumped into her. She even came down here just to make sure you and Pierre were okay,” the young guard said, picking up a scattered parchment that had landed at his hooves. 

For a brief moment Edward stopped, the ignited flame of british annoyance suddenly doused by the realization of whom he was speaking to. This was no crazed she-bat, it was the youngster and his oblivious need to please. What good would his anger be? It left him nothing but even more tired than before. 

“So, the Element of Kindness... was kind? Well, I for one would never have assumed such a thing. I’m so glad you found such a vital and well-hidden piece of intel,” Edward said, taking his place once more at the desk. 
 
Attention Span bristled at the praise, taking an attentive stance and smiling innocently. “I know, I was kind of nervous when I first met her too, but she has a way of putting ponies at ease.”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Ed said, milling through Span’s saddlebags. 

Each new tome was another layer of evidence against the prejudice of an unjust society. How many more would claim that his only happiness would reside in marrying another poor sod forced into a ridiculously productive breeding couple? The smell of paper and ‘justice’ oozing from the pages had Ed shudder as he pulled book after book from their lodgings. 
   
“Wow! You really do like books, huh?” Span said, watching the bicorn spread them out and flip idly from one to another. 

“A necessity for the cause,” Ed replied, eyes still trailing across pages of text.

“‘Cause’? Whatcha mean?” Span trotted close to peek over Ed’s shoulder. 

Ed didn’t answer, instead pulling the book closer and shifting his back toward the young private. A low, graveling grunt made Attention Span back off with a small blush on his face. 

“Sorry, sorry...” He tried a smile but failed to sway his charge.

“You said you met Fluttershy?” Edward called in an even voice. “Did you tell her anything?”
 
“Oh, huh, yeah,” Span answered with a shrug. He did not understand why that was a big deal, really, nor why the bicorn had stiffened. “Her security clearance is top notch. She’s considered a national heroïne and a special operative of the Dual Thrones. And she’s a friend of the newest princess and there’s a rumor she can tame dragons going around!” His tone rose a few pitches as more excitement filtered through. “Oh, sweet Celestia! I should have totally asked for an autograph! I can’t believe I didn’t think of that! Dang, now Right Angle will never believe me!”

Edward briefly raised his eyes to the ceiling, as if silencing asking what he had done to deserve to be surrounded by scatterbrained, snarking and idiotic ponies. “I very much doubt that mare would like the attention. She is, as her parents justly noticed before naming her, rather shy.” 

Span blinked, then brought a hoof to his chin. “Really? Because she asked if it were okay for her to visit for tea. She’ll be here soon.”

“You’re kidding right, please tell me you’re kidding?” Ed asked through gritted teeth, the book in his hooves shaking as if caught in a self-contained tremor. 

The private squirmed in place, his face flushing a shade of red in embarrassment. The bicorn’s gaze made him feel like a little foal again. “S-sorry, you’re allowed visitors, provided they check with security first. Was I not supposed to do that?”

Ed gazed down at the younger stallion like that of a disappointed teacher, or in a more fitting analogy, a disgruntled officer.“You are and were clearly out of your mind.”

“Um, well, I was just a bit excited, you aren’t mad, are you?” Span rubbed the back of his neck. “I can ask her to leave if you want.”    

“No, no… There’s no need. We mustn’t be impolite. We are her hosts, are we not? By all means, let her come,” Ed said, taking a long breath and doing everything in his power to avoid strangling his young jailer. 

This could, he realized, be quite the opportunity.


---


The wooden door twisted on its hinges and revealed a young, purple drake.

“Why, hello, Spike dear.” Rarity greeted him quickly, her gaze skipping to behind him. What shone in these blue eyes when she found nopony, however, could have been relief or disappointment. “Are you here on your lonesome?”

The purple scales of his face turned a vivid shade of red. Though Spike tried to look cool and collected, he could not help the blazing hope from showing in his voice. “Y-yeah, nopony else around… why?”

“Oh, think nothing of it, darling. I simply wished to look for some information up and I believed the library would be a good way to start. Perhaps Twilight could have directed me toward some references...”

“I can do that!” Spike jumped at the opportunity to help his crush. A sly grin on his face, he pretended to file his claws nonchalantly. “I do most of the shelving around here, you know. Not to brag, but these babies have seen more than their fair share of books.”

For a brief moment, the tension melted out of the fashionista. She held a hoof to her mouth and giggled softly. “Oh, Spike, my knight in shining armor,” she said as she stroked his head fin, “if you are sure you aren’t busy with anything else, I’d be glad to accept your help.”

If he hadn’t been certain dragons were fireproof, Spike would have thought he had burst into flame. He could feel heat greater than even the pool of lava gather to make his face spectacularly red. “S-s-sure! I’d be glad to help! W-what were you loo-” His voice cracked, and he quickly cleared his throat. And deepened it for good measure. “Ahem. I mean. What were you looking for, Rarity?” 

“Oh, I’m afraid it is nothing too interesting.” Rarity flicked her mane to the side, a long and dramatic sigh coming out of her mouth. “I was hoping to take a closer look at certain law books, perhaps a few societal studies as well.”

“Okay…?” Spike slowed to a halt, his arms halfway stretched to fetch the latest number of Cosmare. “That’s not your usual kind of reading. Did something happen?”

Rarity’s indulgent smile cracked on the edge. Attentive eyes could see the minuscules hints that her mane had been coiffed in a hurry, that traces of make-up lingered in trails from her eyes and had not been properly washed. And for a young smitten drake, those could not be ignored. 

“Rarity?”

Stepping forward, her demeanor fully composed again, Rarity gently brushed his cheek and kissed it for the underlying concern. “Ah, hmm, a kind way to put it would be to say that somepony opened my eyes about certain aspects of Equestrian practices that I never quite realized the implications before...”

“You don’t mean those bicorns guys, do you?” Spike asked, his voice uncertain. 

An instant, Rarity’s eyes glazed over, showing naught but the furious blue irises and the storm behind. The accusation, the whisper, and the resignation crawled over her skin. Feeling lightheaded, she weakly shook her head. 

Spike gave her a piercing look but made no comment. Instead, he directed her to a low standing table and returned a minute later with a tower of volumes tilting in his arms. “That’s just Twilight’s pile. She had me gather every book on bicorns we had, you know since those two new guys came in town?”

With a sigh of sparks and cinder, the little dragon let the tower topple over onto the table.

“All of them? Is that so?” At his nod, Rarity placed a hoof to her chin and the glow of her magic surrounded one of the books. It floated up to her but remained closed as her brows lowered. “Do you think she would mind much if we took a look at those books ourselves?” 

“Huh, well, see, Twilight...” the poor dragon stuttered, looking quickly between the volumes and the mare of his dreams. “She usually doesn’t like her books disturbed when she’s working on them… b-but I’m sure she’d make an exception for you!” he added at the sorrowful sight Rarity had let out.

“Splendid!” Rarity exclaimed as she sat down on a charmingly rustic cushion. Her horn lighting up, she brought the first book to her with a gentle bout of telekinesis. Conscious of her friend’s nervous squirming, she smiled and tapped the cushion next to hers. “Well then, let’s take a closer look, Spike.”

Grinning, he ran to join her in her research with an enthusiasm that would make Twilight shed tears of pride.

“How about we start with… ah, here, Chapter three, Registrations and Legislations surrounding Bicorns. This should be informative.”


---


His quickened steps beat against the floor like clockwork. It had been some time now, hours perhaps since Rarity had left. The half-modified suit waited for her return upstairs. He, on the other hoof -- hand --, could not stand the small bedroom and its closing walls. 

Had he said it wrong? Oh hell, he hoped he hadn’t made things worse! No, surely, she would have understood what he had tried to explain. She had only left in tears… without a word...

Pierre let himself fall into the admittedly comfortable couch they owned. He had not really been able to resist the urge to just get somepony to stop fawning and listen. No guarantee about whom they would side with, though. 

Them? Or, well, the entire Equestrian nation, apparently. The immediate representants of whom watched over him, just in case he somehow hurt himself in his own home.

Tempered Steel was easy enough to ignore, but Belfry followed his pacing avidly, snickering under her breath every time he really felt close to freaking out. Just for that, he sat down, a scowl on his face.

And again, the urge to move climbed through his legs. He could simply not stand still. Too many questions to ask, too much ‘what if’s  coming to mind. His eyes went to the opened window. It was still the afternoon, albeit inching toward sunset. Would they even let him outside if he bothered to ask nicely? He would not bet against a night curfew. Least of all after their stunts trying to disappear into the night. 

On that thought, a delicate chime rang throughout the living room, both his bodyguards perking up at the noise. With quick paces, he trotted to the door with Tempered Steel on his heels. A snort of annoyance escaped his control. Really, somepony ringing the doorbell at this time. It could only be Twi--

He stopped cold in his track, his eyes widening and focusing entirely on their visitor. “F-Fluttershy?”

“He… hello, Pierre. I heard you had new bodyguards.” The poor mare blushed as if she had intruded and prodded far too deeply into the bicorns’ privacy. A long strand of her mane hid almost half her face. “I… I just thought I should check up on you. If that’s okay. I… I asked mister Attention Span, and he said Edward would be happy to receive a visitor… h-honored...”

For a split second, Pierre found himself incredulous. He was rather convinced that Edward might not have been quite that welcoming.

“Ah, and Ed didn’t think common courtesies applied to him? Big shocker there,” he grumbled before putting on an awkward smile. “So, huh, can I interest you in some tea? Pretty sure it’s the only drinkable thing we have in the house at the moment.”

“Oh, no I couldn’t, I wouldn’t want to impose,” she protested with a quick shake of her head.  

Pierre put a gentle hoof on her shoulder and led her inside. “And what are you here for if not to impose a bit on us? Come now, it’s nothing for us. Twilight paid it all anyway.”

“Princesses’ money come from taxes...” Fluttershy replied with a hint of deadpan.

Despite himself, Pierre felt his ears fold atop his head as he winced. Right. They might be pissed at ponies, in general, but the thought of wasting Fluttershy’s money still had shame creep on him. 

“Though, um...maybe the guard at the door could use some, he seemed rather upset. If that would be okay, of course.”

“Oh right, Bronze,” Pierre said under his breath. 

He was downright relieved when he spotted an appropriate distraction. “Hey, Bell! Ed’s guest has arrived.”

The gray mare raised an eyebrow at that. “Yeah, I’ll get him, it’s not like he’s a full grown stallion or anything,” Belfry said, shrugging as she walked out of the room.

“So… huh, we were--”

“Hey!” Pierre and Fluttershy flinched at the sudden rise in volume. Maybe that was purely their imagination, but it looked as if the furniture was shaking from Belfry’s booming shout. “Bookface! Somepony went mad and decided to visit you! So stop sulking in your room!”

Pierre grinned. “I think I might grow to like that mare...”

Unfortunately for him, Belfry’s ears twitched on top of her head, and she turned back with a sly grin. “Sorry, stud, those flanks are not registered on the Breeding Program.”

The French stallion groaned and facehoofed, hoping nopony would notice the blush under his reddish fur. It worsened as Fluttershy, ever full of good intentions, rubbed his back with a wing to comfort him.

“Y-you can stop now,” he asked with a strained smile. “All better! Let’s go get the tea, okay!” 

Startled, Fluttershy nodded and followed him into the kitchen. What she found surprised her, and by the look on crossing over Pierre’s face, so was he.

A full table of snacks had been laid in waiting for their arrival. Biscuits, cookies, and soft pastries had been assembled inside of intricately woven straw baskets. A single teapot on the edge of the table let out a steady influx of steam out of its beak, its aroma of fresh oranges and grounded tea leaves a titillating greeting.

And whistling to himself, Attention Span trotted around the table to place the finishing touches. At first, he grinned at the sight of them, but his eyes suddenly widened. “Oh, wait, I forgot to take out the cups!”

“Don’t worry.” Pierre waved a hoof and headed for the right corner of the kitchen. “I’ll get them.”

“Heya there, friends!”

Pierre fell over backward with a girly yelp, landing heavily on his back as Pinkie Pie leaped out of a cupboard no pony had any right to fit in. She went in for a hug, all smile, and giggles before she realized that Pierre was still breathing hard from the shock. 

Pinkie’s wide smile turned a little sheepish at the dark glare sent her way by both guards. She somehow pulled her neck in like a turtle as Attention Span loomed over her and hissed, “Do not. Scare. Pierre. And. Edward. Understood?”

“Whoopsie? I’m sorry.”

“No, no, please, it’s fine.” Pierre waved it off. “I only got a year or two knocked out of me from sheer shock. Nothing too serious. I wasn’t planning on living up to a hundred anyway.”

Belfry snorted, pressing her ear against his chest. Her face wrinkled as she fell into uncharacteristic serious. For a few seconds, there were no traces of the teasing thestral. Edward, standing in the doorframe, raised a skeptical eyebrow at the sight, bemused. 

“Yeah, he’s fine, Span,” Belfry drawled as she drew back and patted Pierre. “Stand down.”

The stallion waited for a second, gauging Pinkie’s possible reactions. Only after he had somehow deemed her safe not to startle anypony else did he relax and offer a sheepish apology. 

Edward raised an eyebrow at the abrupt change of behavior. So the guard did have an authoritative streak... “Oh good,” he deadpanned, “it looks like we got two elements for the price of one, how economical.”

Pierre, standing up with a bit of help from Fluttershy, cuffed him on the shoulder with a grunt of annoyance. 

Gray shoulders which were then shrugged. “Hey, it’s not my fault they choose to sprout up like kudzu.” 
 
Pierre sunk lowered into his seat, cradling the cup before him as if hoping it could turn into poison. Whether he’d dose Edward or himself was the bigger question. “Suck on your tea and shut up.”

“Please, you are the one who told the bat to fetch me. Don’t get snippy at me for striking a conversation,” he deadpanned to the annoyance of said bat, then glanced at the two heroïnes in front of him. “So, what exactly can we do for you two? I imagine you have plenty of other important things to do, no?” 

“Nope!” Pinkie replied with a cheerful smile. “Nothing’s more important than making sure a few new friends are happy and in good health!”

Pierre could not help but grin at those words. Cheesy and childish as they might sound, they had a comforting effect. Maybe, just a second, he could forget the difference between the Equestria he knew and the one they were trapped in. Some things didn’t change, and the bearers were good ponies.

“That’s quite the sentiment if a bit ironic to some degree,” Ed said, finishing his statement with a decisive sip of tea.  

“Ironic?” Fluttershy repeated, her face half-hidden by her mane.  

He shot her a serious look, dipping a biscuit in his tea and taking a bite out of it. “You care for our well-being and happiness, but you don’t seem to listen to us very well.” A smirk twisted the corner of his mouth. “We already told you what would make us happy. And yet, here we are.”    

Fluttershy and Pinkie followed the motion of his leg, their eyes gliding over the furniture of the kitchen and the house. They flinched as Edward gave a meaningful stare to the new guards that had been assigned to them. 

“That’s…!” Pinkie stopped midsentence, deflated. “...it’s a bit more complicated than that.”

“Nopony wants you to feel uncomfortable about it...” Fluttershy fidgeted. “It’s just really, really important that everypony do their part… sorry...”

“Not likely,” Ed grunted as he leaned in leering at the hapless mare. 

“Please, don’t take that personally.” Pierre jumped in, a gentle hoof pushing the cup of sugar toward their guests. “We’re a bit on edge these days”

“Oh, it’s fine. Gummy’s like that too!” Pinkie giggled. “Whenever I take him on a trip with the Cakes, he panics and I have to give him his favorite éclair and his teething ball just so he won’t bite anypony else.”

Ed stared at the mare in indignation. “Oh yes, because your pet and I have so much in common, it’s like we are long lost twins or something.”

Pierre caught himself chuckling at Ed’s slowly ebbing sanity. “Would you look at that? Edward bites people’s head off when he’s cranky too.”

“Sod off!”

“See?” He grinned, but it slipped as the mares in front of him seemed unamused. 

“Pierre, that’s not nice…” Fluttershy reprimanded softly. “You’re baiting him.”

Edward rolled his eyes. “Of course he is, that’s sort of our thing,”  

But, ears drooped, Pierre still looked away, his face on fire. He had not seen that one coming. Fluttershy’s disappointment had felt like being a little boy scolded by his mother all over again. 

“Sorry,” he said in a tiny voice.

Edward gazed back between the now timid Frenchman and the mare staring down at him. Giving a single nod, he watched as Fluttershy’s features softened into a gentle smile. The mare seemed grateful at the disappearing tension and turned to send an almost maternal look to Edward.
 
“Hey now, we all sometimes say a couple of things we don’t mean. Once we say we’re sorry, it’s okay.” Pinkie reached over the table and patted Pierre’s hoof. 

Fluttershy nodded. “As long as you're willing to apologize, that's all that matters.” 

Still quite red under his fur, Pierre forced a chuckle or two. The apology came quick and quiet, enough that one could doubt it had been uttered. Well, one would have to ignore the smug superiority oozing off the pore of Edward’s skin. Belfry laughed under her breath at the sight, which did nothing to help Pierre subdue his embarrassment.  Uneasy, he cleared up his throat and asked about the animals back at the cottage. 
   
“Well, there hasn’t been anything out of the ordinary yet...” 

“Is it true that you have a bear?!” Attention Span near shouted, startling everyone around the table. in the dead silence that followed, his face turned bright red, and he sank into his seat with a muttered ‘sorry’.  

“Oh, yes,” said Fluttershy after a time. “Harry the bear… well, he is doing well, even if he’s not really my bear. More like a friend that sees me on occasions. His neck is still a bit stiff from the last hibernation, but I think after our next seance, he’ll be better.”

“Yikes.” Pierre winced, though with a small smile. “I can’t imagine really doing chiropractics on a bear. Doesn’t he get… mad?”

“Of course, the pain is a bit irritating,” Fluttershy said, a hoof to her chin as she recalled the few angry roars he had sent her way. “But really, Harry is just a big teddy bear when you get down to it. He’s always grateful when I’m done.” 

The next question died on his lips as his ears suddenly twitched. From their right rose a high pitch noise, something so unequinely strange that they almost feared the presence of a monster of the Everfree. But in the direction of the noise, no creature lurked but Attention Span, biting his lips to stop himself from talking. By the look of pure admiration in his eyes, it most likely was praises and embarrassing demands for an autograph. 

Even Edward barely resisted the urge to facehoof at that. “What about your other animals? We know you keep a lot of them at your place.”

A few moments passed before Fluttershy could tear her eyes off the stallion that seemed all too willing to worship her. “...Yes… I… hmm.. Mr. Tweetum has been spending a lot of time resting. The poor dears are still confused after his accident, but I know for sure he will recover very soon..”

“I see,” Edward said slowly, stirring his tea with his spoon. His eyes downcast, he seemed almost indifferent to the gazes that turned to him. But there was no mistaking the note of challenge in his tone as he stared right at the bearers. “Say, where exactly do you stand on the bicorn question?”

“Oh! Do you mean like where we would be if we were bicorns ourselves?” Pinkie wiggled her eyebrows at both stallions. “Because I sometimes think about that. It’d be really weird for my mane, don’t you think? It’d definitely get stuck in there.”  

Edward’s blank expression vanished as she poked one of his horns for emphasis. “No, not exactly.” He pushed her off, not too roughly, and looked her deep in the eyes. “I meant, do you think it’s right?”

“What right?”

Which rights, rather, he thought with a bitter smile for his jailers. “How bicorns are treated, of course! The loss of personal freedoms, the lack of independence, the forced reproduction. All of this, is it right?”

Pinkie’s mane deflated with a sad ‘pop’. Her colors dimmed, she lowered her gaze to the ground. “I dunno...”

His grip on his cup tightening, Edward directed his gaze on Fluttershy, who squeaked at the dark attention. “Do you?”

She gaped like a fish, struggling to find the right words, any words at all. Around her, Pierre noticed Belfry and Steel following the exchange very intently.

“I… sometimes…” Fluttershy sighed, then regarded Edward with a humid gaze. “Your species need help, Edward. We want… we want to be as helpful as possible, but it’s not… if bicorns don’t do anything to help themselves first...”

Edward snorted. 

The air around him seemed suddenly colder, as he eyed her with a contempt like slivers of ice. "It's a beautiful thing, isn't it?" 
 
Startled, Fluttershy blinked. "W-what is...?"

Edward’s hoof traced the edges of his empty cup. Glances of his nailed the guards in place. "Seeing the animals you helped return to health and become independent."

“...Of course it’s nice to see them happy and healthy again.” 

“So, would you put other sapient ponies on the same level as pets?” The accusation made the poor pegasus shrink behind her wings. Mayhaps she would have found an answer, but Edward was not done. His breath hitched up and his eyes widened as if he had been struck by an idea, but the gritting of his teeth said otherwise. “Or, rather, lower than pets. Bicorns are never free of those ‘tender’ caring hooves that strangle them.”

Fluttershy stuttered. “I-I would n--”

“No, of course, you wouldn't, but with the rules that are currently in place, you might as well be.”  

At a complete loss, Fluttershy turned her gaze to Pierre, in hopes he would assure her to the  contrary. He had seemed a bit more amicable before, he wouldn’t let something like a temporary measure embitter him too, would he? But to her dismay, the maroon bicorn met her gaze sadly and spoke not to Edward but to her.

“A gilded cage is still a cage, girls.”

Fluttershy stared on, searching for a trace of a lie. Hoping. The small whispers of her own voice that spoke the reasonable words of the law… all had been made powerless. She tried, Edward’s sneer carved in her mind, to imagine her birds or her rabbits in their place, stuck in cages far too small for them. 

The Fluttershy of her mind would have opened the doors wide. And she, before two bicorns, collapsed on herself.

A hollow feeling in her barrel, she glanced to the ponies holding the keys to the cage. The nice private looked torn in half, his cheeks a tinge of green. But she nearly blinked in shock as she noticed the snarl on the batpony mare’s face. Her hoof would have flown into her charges’ chin, had the quiet stallion in the back not shaken his head and scowled.       

Nopony replied to the plea.

But then came from her right words dripping with regrets and a strange sense of panic, “I would not be here if my great-great-great-great-granddad hadn’t followed the law back in the olden days.”

The entire group fell silent, staring at a solemn Pinkie Pie. Edward himself seemed unsure what to reply to that. What was there to say? 

Then, gently, a pair of yellow wings closed over Pinkie, and she let out a shaky chuckle.

“Great-great-great-granny Baklava was half-bicorn, and it wouldn’t have happened if Princess Celestia hadn’t said so. A lot of things wouldn’t have happened. Like me and Maud making rock candy necklaces together. Or me coming to Ponyville and meeting the Cakes. I wouldn’t be here holding the twins in my forelegs, and that’s one of the best feelings ever. Those little cuties are up there with the MMMM in terms of pure sweetness.”

Fluttershy nodded, her nurturing instincts kicking in at the images of the adorable twins.

“So many things.” Now Pinkie giggled, her memories brightening her smile and turning it radiant. “Maud wouldn’t collect rock candy necklaces. Cranky wouldn’t have found Mathilda. Cheese Sandwich would still be a shy stallion.”

A few more events were evoked, each painted with a brush of glitter and pink frosting. Joy, it never seemed more apparent to other ponies that Pinkie Pie represented joy. 

“...Twilight wouldn’t have drunk hot sauce by accident at her welcoming party.”

Ed scoffed. “I’m not sure that is actually a bad thing, but that may just be me.” 

Pinkie met his gaze with a look of utter disbelief. “Of course it was a good thing, it was one of our first memories as friends and those are always super important.

Before Ed could compile a response, Pierre placed a hoof on his shoulder and shook his head, drawing the eyes of the mare to him.  

“My great-grand-parents met because a foreign country invaded my own, Pinkie,” he told her softly. With shuddering breath, he whispered, “Millions lost their lives, whole countries were changed forever, but my family wouldn’t exist if those events hadn’t happened.”

Edward’s gaze remained a mask of complete serious intent. Right now, he and his companion were neither brit nor lazy Frenchmen, right now they were simply men, pushed to the very limit. He seemed rather pensive, it was not as if Pinkie or any of the girls were directly to blame for this world and its backward views. Well, maybe Twilight, but that was simply an effect of a much bigger problem. 

“What are you talking about?” Belfry deadpanned.

Being dismissed out of hooves, for one thing, Edward sighed. 

“You wouldn’t know, of course…” Pierre said with a thick, heavy voice. ‘“But where we come from… it was the most horrible war in history. Millions died.”

Fluttershy and Pinkie sat dumbstruck not sure how to respond to Pierre’s passionate outcry, and Attention Span seemed like that of a lost puppy, eyes passing from one emotional spectrum to the next in an unsure dance of duty and drama. The only pony who seemed unaffected was the quiet and astute Tempered Steel who stood passively like he’d been replaced with a cardboard cutout. In the silence, only one voice was strong enough to question the very eerie serenity that had momentarily enveloped the room and all who lay within.  

“Hold on there, goatie.” Belfry pointed at his chest. Her eyes were narrowed. “Equestria has never been in such a grand scale war! Not even in the distant past!”

“I suppose no one bothered telling you the truth either.” Ed tsked. “He’s not talking about Equestria, you dunce. We’re not from here.”

“Tsk, that’s pathetic,” she sneered. “You’re that desperate? You would make-up a stupid sto--”

Two hooves struck the table like thunder. “Don’t you fucking dare, you fat cow! I don’t care in the slightest if you believe me or not, but you will not make light of this! You will not!” Pierre was suddenly leaning, his eyes fiery and challenging. The table shook under the death grip he had on it. “The stories they told were so horrible no one believed them until they walked into the torture camps and saw it with their own eyes! They slaughtered innocents, they gassed them, they filled holes with the bodies!”

The batmare struggled with her words, the steel-like conviction bearing down on her indignation. 

“To think, you could be this thoughtless and callous,” Edward said flatly, his glare unblinkingly piercing Belfry who stood stone silent. 

“Pierre, tell me...” Pinkie pleaded. “It wasn’t… please say it was just a meanie pants joke you’re pulling on me.” She sniffed loudly, and her hooves reached for his, both shaking. “Pierre, please. Millions…”

Pierre himself looked on the verge of tears. “Pinkie.” He swallowed. His ears had drooped on each side of his head. “Pinkie, we wouldn’t be talking today if that war hadn’t devastated a whole continent. Do you think I would wish for it to have never happened? Do you think I can’t?” 

She jerked as if burned. She skidded backward, back against a cupboard, refusing to look anypony in the eye, not even her best friend who reached for her in concern. The poor mare had to watch as the laughter drained from Pinkie.

It would seem as if the silence would stretch forever until, finally, Pinkie lifted her head, her eyes brimming with tears, and she shook her head. 

The two stallions opened their mouth, Edward reaching forward with a hoof, but before them, the mare seemed to become nothing but a pink blur as she made her way out at dizzying speed. 

Fluttershy, eyes wide, stared back between the stallions and her fleeing friend and all the while muttering apologies, took off. Her speed, albeit impressive for her, struggled to match the pink blur that had disappeared over the horizon.  

“...We should let them think about it for a while,” Pierre finally said. “Give them the night, maybe. You think you could convince Fluttershy if you talked with her tomorrow?”

“We don’t have much a choice, do we?” Edward rolled his eyes though his expression seemed more thoughtful than simple boasting. “Come now, we have much to plan for our next guest appearance.”

Their legs stilled, however, as a painfully fake cough rose from behind them.

“Forgetting somepony?” drawled out Belfry. 

Edward’s nostrils briefly flared. “No, just choosing to ignore you.”

The two went upstairs, uncaring of the glares Belfry bore into Edward’s skull or the intense stares Span aimed at Pierre. They had things to discuss, it mattered not if they were listened to. In fact… it might be good practice.

And with that, they had forgotten another, one they shouldn’t have dismissed as easily.

Tempered Steel had waited patiently for his colleagues to follow their charges wherever they chose to head within the house. When at last he was alone, he dug out a sheet of paper from his saddlebag and spread it on the dining table. After a second of hesitation, he picked up a thin stick of graphite and prepared what he assumed would be the first of many reports. They had given him quite a few things to ponder. Both sides were hiding more than they led on. He felt a hint of shame for the treasonous thought but slid his report into his saddlebag anyway. 



> L'Oeil de l'Autre
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The explosive sound of trumpeting made him fold his ears against his head, under his bell-covered hat. Whichever mad genius had had the idea of torturing ponies with protocols received yet another string of mental curses aimed at them, courtesy of the most powerful unicorn of his time. It made the act of visiting any of the courts an unpleasant business for that fact alone. 

Not that Starswirl would have otherwise enjoyed speaking to the pompous, self-important nobility of Canterlot. He could have of course blown away every unicorn that sat there, even if they had worked together -- a miracle the likes of which had not been seen since the Unification or the Defeat of Discord. No, the old mage’s problem was of the character of the ponies he wished to present his findings to. Wisdom immemorial and personal experience told him the unicorns would be the worst ponies to try and convince of the benefits of his project. 

At first, Starswirl, amongst others, had protested that the separation of the courts would only lead to the same problems they had been trying to avoid with the unification. After witnessing one of the few reunions with the three courts assembled, he quickly retracted his objections. 

It had been one the few backtracks witnessed in his long existence, but even he would rather not see the Windigoes’ frost return. Let most ponies coexist in the same country before trying to force the prejudices and misconceptions of the past to die. 

Discord’s reign had left most ponies shaken, and all but the oldest ponies alive nowadays had been born within the Century of Madness. Or rather, the ninety-eight years and twenty-seven days of madness. The draconequus would have loved for his reign of terror to have been recalled as a timeless blur in history. Starswirl had thus resolved to count it down to the grain of his hourglasses. 

The old archmage allowed himself a rare -- hidden -- smile, even in the presence of his least favorite court of important ponies. His students had done admirably, and he could not wait for them to finally take their places at the head of ponykind. The sooner the buffoons covered in gold and jewelry were off the reigns of the kingdom, the better. 

“Starswirl the Bearded,” announced loud and clear Princess Adamantine. The silver-white mare spoke lightly, conversationally, addressing the nobles around her rather than him. “Rumours had it that you were lost in the wilderness.”

A hoofful of ponies chuckled politely, behind their hooves. Starswirl heeded them no more attention than rats in an open field. 

“I was in the wilderness, Princess Adamantine, but I was not lost. I knew precisely what I was looking for.”

“And did you find it?” rose another snide voice. 

For a moment, Starswirl fought back the annoyance surging through his body. He was three quarters of the way through a silencing curse when he managed to calm himself. 

He cast a cool gaze over the off-white young stallion instead. He had some sway in this court after all. The princess’ nephew. 

“As the Fates have decided, I happen to have.” Those with even a hint of talent in magic subtly backed away from the ether pulsing through the old archmage’s body. “After three weeks of travels through the South, I have stumbled upon a small community of bicorns.”

At first, the indignation swelled with the ugly sneers of tribalism. Those like Lady Traditional Values vowed no such associations with the chaos spawn, for they had the audacity of even distantly resembling unicorns. They could not tolerate that, they would not! Until, with a series of strangled gasps, all ponies cut their protests short.

He was speaking. 

As ponies had learned over the long years of his life, one did not interrupt Starswirl the Bearded when he was speaking. 

They fell silent as the dead.

“Not unlike the previous rumours mentioned in this court, the words on the bicorns are as false as they are ridiculous. There is nothing to fear from them. They have as much talent for chaos magic as Lady Aquamarine does for regular magic.”

This time, more than a few ponies laughed, as if to forget their fears. Said lady however, under her marine blue coat, turned crimson in outrage. 

The mare stood up in a clinking of jewelry and roared, “You forget yourself, Mage!”

With but a slight turn of his head, Starswirl the Bearded surveyed the noblemare and her jewel-covered attired. He would have given nothing of his thought, if not for the twitch of his long beard. “Neigh, Lady Aquamarine. I never forget anything, least of all myself. I am the most powerful mage to have ever lived. I am the sole teacher of the alicorns. Nopony has ever understood magic as deeply as I have, and no pony will in a thousand years. Now, ponder again who has forgotten themselves in this conversation.”

Ponies gave Lady Aquamarine a wide berth, either out of repulsion for the slight hint of sweat now mixing with her powerful perfume or out of fear of the low pressure in the air, near the basis of all their horns. 

When Starswirl’s hoof began to move, the mare fainted. 

The old mage’s eyes twinkled behind the wrinkles of his face. “Never let it be said that I know nothing of jesting, oh horned idiots of the royal court.”

A few rogue chuckles floated above the crowd of assembled unicorns, and a great unease descended on the nervous ponies. Had they been meant to laugh? Or was this the serious part? Starswirl the Bearded had never been known for his sense of wits and jest, not that anypony would voice the thought out loud anymore.

And in the middle of the court, a mild grimace on his lips, the old stallion sighed to himself. Well, he suspected that elder Temperance would smile that infuriating knowing smile of his, seeing the frozen crowd around him. Starswirl would rather play the part of the mysterious mentor than that of the clueless pupil, and so far, only the bicorn elder had ever managed to swap roles with him. How grating.

How exciting.

“There is much to be learned from our twin-horned brethren,” he continued as if there had been no interruption. “We would be wise to put aside the old superstitions of our foremothers and truly make an effort to unite all pony tribes under a single banner… Bicorns are as pony as you and I. They have two horns, but other ponies have none and we do not hunt them like pariah. This is the exact recommendation I will make to the pegasus council and the earth pony assembly.”

How little was his surprise at the sight of Lady Traditional Value, green at the thought of coming into contact with non-unicorn and red at the lack of reaction from her fellow -- saner -- nobles. 

Princess Adamantine studied him intently, one of the few to wish to see through his intent. He could acknowledge the effort, but his ways were his alone. Only Celestia and Luna might one day become privy to these secrets. 

“I have spoken,” he said, and turned his back on them all.


--


Back on Earth, where things weren’t such a mess, Edward had had a grandfather clock. Not a particularly valuable one, but it produced an oddly calming ticking noise for the long hours he was away in his study to read up for his next day at work. 

He chose to believe it a lucky coincidence that one such clock had been placed in their equestrian living room, right next to the couch, placed against the wall. The ticking, coupled with the gentle push of the wind in the leaves outside, could have lulled him into an early sleep, had he so been inclined. 

Or, rather, the evening would have unfolded in peaceful, blissful silence, if one young stallion did not seem physically compelled to fill it with his blathering.

“So, I’m thinking I could carry an apology letter to them on your behalf.” Attention Span nodded to himself, a bit quickly, rubbing his front legs together. He did not seem to notice that both his charges were trying to focus on their readings, and that Edward’s ears twitched with alarming regularity. “Yup, a good apology letter. Because I know you didn’t mean to make them cry, but their feelings were still hurt. So, if you would just give me a message to pass to them, I’d have no problem dropping by their places, and hay, maybe bring back some donuts from the bakery Pinkie lives in.”

“Attention Span,” growled Edward, and it was a sound so mangled one could barely recognize the name uttered underneath all that hatred.

“Yes?” The private blinked innocently, standing at attention.

“Have you ever wondered what your spleen looks like?” 

“Edward...” Pierre growled.

Attention Span tilted his head to the side, his armor clinking, before his smile widened. “Oh, no worries. They told us all about it during training. Plus, I’ve got my accreditation as a field medic!”

Edward proceeded to stand up, toss his book on the couch, and trotted to the nearest wall. There, his face took great care to befriend said wall with all the force of a sledgehammer. 

The hit vibrated into the walls, and was felt by the other two stallions with simultaneous winces.

“Whoa, huh, Edward, what are you doing?”

As the Brit’s eyes remained slightly unfocused, Pierre took it upon himself to take over talking duty and went to pat the private on the shoulder. “Eh, don’t worry, Span. We’ve got hard heads, he’s fine. And if he’s not, he brought it on himself.”

The two very distinctly heard the venomous, growled, “I will end you all.” that Edward uttered against the wall. 

“Good luck with that,” grumbled Bronze Chainmail as he climbed up the stairs of the basement. “The thestrals have turned in for the time being. And they’re notoriously ungracious when you wake them before their time.”

Edward rolled his eyes as he extricated his head from the sunken in wall. “Is anyone gracious when they’re rudely woken up?” And before Attention Span could even think of raising a hoof up, Edward glared hard enough to get the private to shrink back. “Whoever you’re thinking of doesn’t count.”

The young guard’s near constant smile slipped a few inches. 

“Still a delight to be around, I see,” Bronze Chainmail grumbled, rolling his eyes at the bicorns.

“You look ecstatic to be here,” Pierre deadpanned. “Are you truly that tired of keeping watch outside the door?”

“The rotation system has begun. It’s only me and Private Span, right now. Sergeant Steel and Corporate Belfry have gone to sleep so they could be alert for their night shift.” The bronze stallion tapped his hoof against the carpeted floor. “This means I’m staying inside with Private Span to watch over you two.”

“Joy,” grumbled Edward as he trotted to the kitchen. He needed some tea for this.


--


She might have been getting some sleep at the time. Okay, who was she getting? It was sunset, most ponies were returning to their own humble abodes and all that. On hooves. So little air traffic. Of course Rainbow Dash had been taking a nap when the commotion below made her take off with a startled yelp.

Blushing, hoping nopony had seen or heard, the epic daredevil that she was looked down just in time to see a streak of pale yellow circle around a bunch of ponies on a corner, then shoot straight toward the end of the road.

“Fluttershy?!”

What was she even doing, running through Ponyville like that? Her friend slalomed between passing ponies, so fast even Rainbow Dash had trouble following her progress. The last time she’d seen such speed from Fluttershy, she’d heard of a dragon flying within sight of town.   

It could only mean bad things. With one mighty flap of her wings, Rainbow Dash dove straight down and swooped just next to her fleeing friend. 

“What’s going on, Fluttershy?!” she yelled over the whipping wind. “Is there an attack or something?!” 

Rainbow’s eyes were darting around. She searched for a sign, any sign at all. Smoke. Flames. Screams. Panicking ponies. Something! Everything seemed as peaceful from down there as it had looked from the clouds. She would have allowed herself to relax, had it not been for the trails of tears running down her friend’s cheeks.

“No!” Fluttershy shouted with much greater strength than she usually showed. “It’s not anypony else! It’s me!”

Rainbow Dash knew that, had she been running, she would have faceplanted. The words had made her jerk in surprise, and her flight had fluctuated in height for a second there. “What? What are you talking about, Fluttershy?”


It couldn’t have been her! She knew Fluttershy. Had known her for a long time.

But Fluttershy’s face grew red with a flush, and she shook her head, pink strands of her mane billowing in the wind. “I’m a monster!”

Dash suddenly couldn’t hear past the ringing in her ears. Her mind felt blank, and the words were there, laced with tears. The tears of her friend. 

She landed in the path before her friend, glared daring the shy caretaker to keep going. And Fluttershy struggled to skid to a halt before a collision. Struggled, but succeeded, with her heartbeat out of control, and the pair of eyes still accusing her. 

“Or, rather, lower than pets.” Animals weren’t pets to her, they were her friends. Always. Those she kept around, it was always with the intention of letting them come and go as much as they really wanted. Lower than pets.

Her bird friends always pecked at her cages, no matter how much she told them they couldn’t fly yet. She made them the nicest she could, layered them with soft fluffy feathers to make nests and plenty of food, and as many friends as would be comfortable. They kept pecking untill they were free.

“A gilded cage is still a cage.”

Bicorns needed help. Every book, every teacher, they said it. Bicorns needed their help to survive. To thrive. The populations were finally growing after decades of stagnating at dangerously low levels. 

To help injured birds was to stop them from flying until they were healed. To help healthy birds was to open the cages. 

Weren’t Edward and Pierre healthy bicorns? What was sick about them? Equestria had to help bicorns. Bicorns, as a whole. As a species. You couldn’t take care of a species as you would individuals. Nothing, Fluttershy realized. The answer to her question was nothing. Equestria cared for a sick species. It couldn’t care for healthy bicorns at the same time. 

Healthy birds in cages would always try to escape their beautiful little prisons. 

“Who said that?!” Rainbow Dash’s shout brutally brought her back to the present. “Who called you a monster?!”

“T-they didn’t say...” Fluttershy sobbed. “Rainbow, it’s my fault, I did this! I should have seen it before!”

“...‘They?’” she repeated with a sneaking suspicion.

Fluttershy had been coming from the East side of town. Very few ‘they’ came to mind when thinking about that part of Ponyville. Fluttershy had few friends outside of their circles, even less acquaintances that she would care to visit. Except... 

Only the presence of her close friend near her prevented her take-off from being at Sonic Rainboom levels. And Rainbow Dash still felt the sound barrier wrap itself around her while she flew in a straight line toward the house Twilight had given them the coordinate to the day before. 

She didn’t even slow down when the orange façade came into view. She simply flipped in the air, and barrelled into the front door hind legs first. 

The ponies in the room startled, taken in by the explosive noise. 

Her eyes fell onto Edward, the damnable stallion, reading casually at the table, a cup of tea waiting just a hoof away. And she saw red. 

“You!”


--


In the dark, dank, depths of the basement the designated nocturnal disputants slept. Tempered Steel lay as if not a living being but a statue, unmoving, unphased and zen-like on his rough ill-sized cot. His slick silver streaked hair seemed to sparkle even in the nocturnal nesting grounds. 

His companion for her part continued her battle against all conformity by hanging from the wooden rafters of the small basement, She swung lightly by her tail in the middle of the room. Like an ashen grey chandelier with a bronze finish. A content smirk graced Belfry’s lips as she slept, the type of smile one could only warrant when they believe themselves the victor over some arbitrary bout. This particular bout seeming to be with the likes of gravity itself.    

Their sleep unfortunately was to be interrupted, as the thunderous yells from above pierced the walls and ceiling with great ease. Rainbow Dash and Ed’s argument had quickly escalated into a battle for vocal domination. This match woke the poor dangling corporal as she, in a startled and groggy panic, fell from her perch in a mad attempt to deal with this unexpected threat.

Belfry shook herself and quickly scouted the gloomy room and, seeing no oncoming threat, looked back to her comrade. Tempered Steel for his part still lay on his cot one amber eye watching his subordinate. 

“Sir?” Belfry asked the stoic sergeant. 

Steel gave a single nod and watched as the fiery mare dashed up the stairs and up to the next floor. 

Belfry winced at the light and the noise before turning and running into the main room. There she saw an angry Edward with both Pierre and Span standing in front of him blocking his path and an even angrier Rainbow Dash who hovered above the group glowering down at the trio. 

“Privates, what is the situation?” Belfry barked, only for Attention Span to look back at her eyes wide in confusion. 

“Ms. Dash broke down the door and demanded that Pierre and Edward go apologize for bullying Ms. Fluttershy,” Attention Span explained, snapping to a half hearted attention. 

Pierre was now looking back at Belfry too. However, Dash and Ed still watched each other, showing teeth, as if the two were about to delve into a battle to the death.  

“The worst part is I don’t remember anypony bullying anypony, do you?” Span asked. “Maybe it happened before we took our shift? Unless it was the talk over tea. But that was more a political debate with lots of emotions!”

Belfry had heard enough.With two quick strides, she stood between the two parties. “Rainbow Dash, I’m going to ask you to stand down and explain yourself,” she said with an icy voice. “Now.”

Though her mane and her coat looked dishevelled, the thestral mare held her glare easily, her grin subtly flashing her fangs.  

The pegasus’ feather trembled, and her rage still spilled from her magenta’s eyes. “You want to know what they did?! Those guys made my friend cry! I saw Fluttershy galloping through town like she was chased by a dragon, screaming that she was a monster! She said it was all her fault, and I know that’s a bunch of horseapples!” Edward’s sneer almost had her go ballistic! “You bastard! Fluttershy would never hurt anypony else, ever! You’re the ones that made her think that, I know it! Well, I’m not going to stand there and let you steamroll all over my friend because you think the horns on your heads make you special!”

“Funny how every one of you ponies keep going on and on about how special we think we are. Who do you think tells us we’re special?! As I recall it, you’re the one that said we had it good, delicate flowers only good for fucking and raising babies!”

Attention Span and Bronze Chainmail both jerked as Rainbow Dash nearly pulled them forward from her sheer strength. Her words were an angry screech, and if she could have, her hoof would have sunked in Edward’s face. “I already apologized for that!”

The Brit did not even flinch. Rather, he ran up closer, until their noses nearly touched. “And I don’t care about your apologies! Do I need to beat it into your pea-sized brain? We don’t care about your platitudes and your grievances. We don’t want to be ‘special’ or whatever the bloody hell you think we should be! No one has the right to tell us to be pretty little trophies for your guilty conscience to gush about. Not you, not Fluttershy, not Pinkie. If any of you were sorry, you would not sit on your arses and tell us. You’d show us, you’d prove it!”

Rainbow Dash heard but one thing. The wrong -- despite being accurate -- thing. 

“You made Pinkie cry too?!”

Belfry’s hoof made solid contact with her forehead. “That’s it. Privates, throw her out. We’re not gonna be able to defuse this situation.”

She struggled. She fought them teeth and hooves and feathers and tail. The hallway nearly vibrated from the echoing clanks of strikes on metal and grunts of anger. 

Had the thestral not been so tired, she would have thought to restrain the other participant of the shouting match. In her defense, she would later explain to Sergeant Tempered Steel, since when had anypony ever needed protecting from a bicorn?

Edward, fuming, blood pumping at yet another interaction with the rainbow-themed idiot, could not resist pouring hot sauce on the wound. And stab it again. “Next time, why don’t you ask your precious Fluttershy why she thinks she’s a monster? Are you that scared that she might be right?!”

It was a good thing Bronze Chainmail was both taller, bulkier and heavier than the bearer of Loyalty. Even his earth pony frame winced from the surge of anger that shook Rainbow Dash. “You buckers don’t deserve it!” her screams sounded raw, even as she clung to the door with all her might. “The Princesses shouldn’t lift a hoof for you motherbuckers! It’s not fair that you should get whatever the b--!”

The door slammed shut, and, by this point, both bicorns felt a smidge of disappointment that no limbs had been stuck in the doorway. They did however get to hear as Bronze Chainmail’s booming voice overpowered even the angered mare’s protests. Small vengeances. 

Slowly, things seemed to settle inside the house. Edward, for one, could feel his blood pressure return to more reasonable levels. True, he had to deal with the visible disapproval of an irate bat, a still confused but less cheerful than usual new recruit, and his archenemy in all things. Perhaps he should care about that. But he wasn’t in a very caring mood as he so eloquently told the rainbow menace. 

“Aren’t you going to tell me off again, Frenchie?” he scowled, his tone biting. “You’re clearly stewing on it.”

But his friend merely shook his head, the maroon fur on his chin trembling.

“We’re becoming breeding stock!” Pierre exploded, startling Span and Belfry on his right. “It’s not for fun! Are all ponies thick and a bunch of crétins aveugles qui ne peuvent même pas trouver leur cul avec une carte, trois boussoles et des vivres?! We have to get as many foals as possible, without any kind of say in the matter! Nevermind that we’re the ones raising children we didn’t want! A fifth of which will likely die from a genetic disease!”

“But you do get a say, Pierre,” Span timidly tried while glancing to the silhouettes on the other side of the front door. “I mean, there are the centers and the adoption process and all those other ways to deal with it without entering a herd.”

“Then why can’t we say ‘no’?”

Attention Span’s mouth opened, then closed. The young stallion appeared lost, one hoof in the air as if to make a statement, but frozen before it could come. “Well, it’s… huh… ” He scratched the back of his head. “Think of it like joining the guard, risking a lot for your fellow Equestrians. It’s a noble sacrifice.”

Edward audibly facehoofed. Less audibly, he spat some curses and something that Bronze, coming back from outside with a dark look on his face, understood as ‘moron doesn’t get it’.

Pierre’s reaction was less gracious. “Were you forced to join?!”

To their collective surprise, Attention Span scratched the back of his head, ruffling a few strands of red mane under his helmet. “Well, I wouldn’t say forced, but Mama’s side of the family were all in the Royal Guard or in the police force, so it was a bit expected of me. I guess it doesn’t really matter too much, since I like it.”

They would have said something to that. They meant to. But their ears caught a chilling laugh as it rose from Belfry’s lung.

It sounded as if she had swallowed shards of glass and sandpaper. A less joyful laughter the two men had never heard before. And when it came to an end, Belfry wiped a bitter tear from her eyes. “You two really get on my nerves, you know that? Always complaining about getting a governmentally-funded cushy life. It’s like seeing foals throwing a tantrum after only getting the second best treat in the whole damn baking shop when there’s a couple of ponies starving outside.”

Pierre and Edward bristled, the latter’s chest puffed and his eyes narrowed. 

“To answer your question, Pierre. No, I didn’t have a choice,” she said slowly, spitting the words with the hope they could burn themselves in the bicorns’ faces. “It was that or unemployment.” 

The embers of anger in their eyes did soften, to their credit. They were held back, smoldering, still hot, but without quite as much of the edge. For the first time, the two seemed to look at one of their captors with a hint of compassion.

“Well, I’m sorry for that. I don’t really know the whole story, but, eh bien, sounds like it sucks to have been you. Still, you really think we should just be glad with this lot in life? Really? Just keep our head down and do what is expected of us, because that’s how it is. After all, others do.” The mare’s frown darkened while Pierre gestured in her direction. By the end of it, she seemed to wish she had let Rainbow Dash get to the two bicorns. “How happy are you, exactly?”

A few droplets of blood pearled at the tip of Belfry’s bitten lips. “I don’t have a choice,” she ground out.

“No, no, don’t worry, we get it, Belfry,” added Edward with a cold look. “Better mock the people that do want change than try for yourself. Called us cowards before, didn’t you? But I’m not sure we’re the ones you wanted to tell that to.”

Belfry slowly brought her gaze to meet his, her sneer frozen on her face. She trotted until she was inches from him, and there she hissed between her fangs, “Cowards run from their fate, Edward.”


Her tail slapped him as she turned her back on the stallions. 

The door to the basement slammed close with such violence that one painted frame on the wall fell to the ground.

The four stallions stared back after her in uncomfortable silence. Attention Span coughed once or twice, though with him, it was hard to tell if he meant to say anything or truly clear his throat. 

“Déjà vu,” muttered Bronze. 

Pierre’s sole reaction was a long sigh. “Yeah, yeah, we should be kinder to our prison guards. We know. They are ponies with feelings and it doesn’t matter what they think of us. It’s not like she hates us for being ‘privileged’, right?”

Bronze remained carefully neutral, bringing about another sigh. Head hung low, Pierre headed upstairs, followed by the younger of the guards. He didn’t seem to have the energy for a glare, or even a frown.

Edward’s gaze, however, appeared thoughtful, his eyes boring a hole into the door to the basement. “Running from fate, or something else?”


--


The door to the basement slammed close with such violence that one portrait frame on the wall fell to the ground.

Belfry dashed down the stairs, teeth grinding as she repeated the scene over and over in her head. She shouldn't have fought them, she should have just walked away. It was unprofessional, stupid, she repeated over and over in her head as she went.

Tempered Steel though still in his cot stared at the angered mare with cold unwavering objectivism. “So?” he asked, tearing the mare from her thoughts and draining the emotion from her so quickly most might miss it.

“The situation has been dealt with,” Belfry said pointedly as she flapped off of the ground and made her way to the rafters.

Tempered’s gaze followed her, his dark vision not just piercing the shadows of the room but the very shadows Belfry tried to hide away in. “You let them rattle you.” It wasn’t a question. 

Sergeant Tempered Steel had seen a lot in his career, he’d seen Thestrals get mistreated, ostracized and belittled to the point that even his patience waned. But he never snapped. If he had, all those that looked down on him would know they had the power.

“I just couldn’t stand there and act like he is the only one who hates his lot in life?” Belfry said, more to herself than to her commanding officer. She sat glaring into the wall, her form trembling slightly. Though in rage, annoyance, self reflection or pain, Tempered couldn’t say.

“Him?” he asked, a single brow rising just a hint. He might not be the best at reading the fairer sex, but Tempered remembered two bicorns upstairs.

Belfry jerked. “Them, I meant them,” she said though her voice hitched slightly in surprise.

“You’re agitated, both at them and yourself. Get some sleep corporal, we’ll have the entire night shift to find out just how badly your political quarrel hit,” Tempered said. His voice was clear but low, and though it was flatter than cardboard Belfry nodded to herself and obeyed.

“I’m sorry for acting so unprofessional, sir,” Belfry said, taking her hanging position and swaying as she adjusted her weight.    

Tempered Steel didn’t respond and the room grew quiet and still. Yet as he lay in the dark, he wondered what exactly had gotten so deep under Belfry’s skin. He’d seen her face off against manticores and golems before. What in all the world could two unruly bicorns -- or “bicorn” -- do to break her so hard. As he drifted back to sleep, he decided to report it to the princess; she was a lot smarter than him, if not quite as practical.      


--


With the library’s door locked for the night, Spike had naïvely thought that he would have at least time to put everything back in order. If anything, there would be a knock or the telltale sound of a key in the lock. So, he did let his mind drift a little while taking in the last lingering puffs of Rarity’s perfume. The young drake had not counted for the explosively loud noise of teleportation, nor the worrisome wobbling of a shelf half caught in it. 

“Discord must be playing a joke on me! It’s not possible otherwise!” Purple light flashed again, and this time Twilight was looming over him, her mane decoiffed by either magic or sheer frustration. “I’ve put them under house arrest to let things settle down and give their new guards some time to get accustomed to their task! Why do I have twice as many problems with them now?!”

“T-Twilight?” Spike stuttered, quickly pushing the books Rarity had consulted in order. “What’s wrong?”

Luckily, his big sister seemed too frazzled to pay much attention to anyone besides herself. “What’s wrong is that I have to be dealing with the two most stubborn goatheads that I have ever met!”  

Her horn illuminated the whole room and Twilight blinked out of sight. Another flash, and she was again next to the little drake, massaging her temples with her outstretched wings.

“Nothing they do seems to make sense! Not only has Rainbow Dash come by to ask me to pardon a fine over a fight she had with them, but Sergeant Tempered Steel also sent a small update earlier. Fluttershy and Pinkie made contact with them earlier, and they both left in tears.”

Spike’s eyes grew wide. “What?”

“Sergeant Steel believes that they have been convinced that the laws about bicorns are excessive, restrictive and suffocating. That to support them was a great evil and that they were hurting bicorns all over Equestria with their passivity. Now I have two friends to go comfort and reason with on top of a third that is begging for a temporary decree allowing for punches in bicorn faces.”

Yet the indignant squawk she had expected of her little brother didn’t surge forth. In fact, though with misty eyes and a flare of possessiveness in his posture, Spike appeared hesitant, thoughtful. 

When bicorns reach sexual maturity, they are to be submitted to Health Screen’s Complete Diagnostic spell. Results will be used to determine genetic compatibility with other individuals. Exempts from the procedures are bicorns suffering from the Unluck Horn Disease. Those will be stamped out of records and be given a monthly stipend to cover expenses. 

“And then what?” Rarity had asked Spike as much as the book. “What happens to those bicorns afterward?”

But they hadn’t found the answer. The book of law hadn’t seemed particularly interested on that subject matter. 

Spike swallowed with some difficulty, his mouth having gone dry. “What did they say exactly?”

Twilight fell down on her couch with a slump and a sigh. “More of the same. That Equestria is wrong, bicorns are oppressed, that they should be free to do what they want without consequences and the likes.”

“You think...” Spike fiddled with his claws, brain still full of Rarity’s memory, of her doubts and careful frown. “Don’t you think they might have a reason for that?”

“I...” Twilight closed her mouth, her gaze on the cover of books on psychology. “Well, they do. Everypony has a reason to do something. Even Discord does things for his amusement. It’s not like that for them, but they’re being thoughtful about what they say. They just really hate that they have to conform to bicorns standards. And since they were foreigners, I would put money on them being abused in some ways before coming here.”

A glint of sadness shone in the emerald of Spike’s eyes. The poor young drake glanced back to the books he had read, and he recalled in great details the thoughtful looks Rarity had shown. “So, those two have had it really bad, right?”

“Worse, I’m sure. It’s the only explanation I can think of for their continued hostilities. I’ve looked over the records again and they really appeared out of nowhere. They must have both been born outside our borders, probably captured by some griffon warlord or a pack of diamond dogs at some point.” The few remnants of anger in her faded. Twilight gazed at her hooves, helpless. “I… I think they’re trying to push back. They were being so micromanaged before that now they just assert themselves on absolutely everything they can. It’s a common reaction in ponies that felt like they lost control of their lives.”

They had screamed at her, accused, growled, snarled, everything she could think of short of physical assault. She remembered being told that her charges, for whom things had seemed to be looking up, had escaped into the night. She remembered seeing the fire in the Everfree, and realizing that they had been that desperate. 

The law had been rather explicit. Yes, she had been angered, immensely so, but she had not taken her next decision while angry. The law had been put in place by Celestia, looked over by a dozen judges. They had to be watched before they did something rash enough to get themselves killed. 

Twilight startled when a small clawed-hand landed on her hoof. 

Spike did not look his age at all then. The wisdom he carried seemed the burden of a full grown adult, and Twilight hated that her little brother couldn’t enjoy a normal foalhood.  “So... they don’t want to have foals at all because of their past, even if it’s the law?”

“No, Spike, but they have to. We can’t just make an exception for them, no matter the kind of past they have. Everypony has to do their part, otherwise the whole system will collapse.” A few more books were shuffled in front of her eyes, none provoking a great reaction. “Perhaps it was a mistake to push for herds first. But they fit the profiles and they didn’t really seem to care and… I… I don’t know how to convince them anymore, Spike. They have to start contributing and Lucky Foals would be a real boon for the genetic pool these days.”

“Twilight... what’s the difference between that warlord and us?”

The books fell from her telekinetic grasp.

“...It’s… we care, Spike.” Her quiet tones suddenly grew in strength as Twilight rose to her hooves and started pacing. “Equestria cares for its bicorns. We do it to help their race. Not for our benefit.”

Spike, taking in the sight of his sister so dishevelled and muttering to herself, could almost believe that. There wasn’t much of a benefit to keep pushing and getting pushed back so hard. It hadn’t made Twilight or Rarity -- or none of their other friends, from what he had heard -- any happier. No, those bicorns were like pebbles at the top of a rocky hill. They had been pushed, and now a whole avalanche of hurt was being thrown around.

At his sister. At his friends. With a growl, his chest grew hot with dragonfire. It made his fist clench, and his thoughts on Rainbow’s proposition darkly agreeable. 

“And then what? What happens to those bicorns afterward?” The law hadn’t said. For most of everything else, it did, but on bicorns that were not useful for breeding? 

Doubt stayed his claws and cleared his mind. 

He did hear Twilight, despite her dubious look, and the fact that she repeated her request. He had just… been playing a joke. But he was ready, scroll on desk, quill in inkpot, ears absolutely wide open.

His big sister cleared her throat, then began with a familiar tone.

“Dear Community Chief Cloven Print, through this scroll, I inform you that I, Princess Twilight Sparkle, will be visiting your reserve with two guests tomorrow.”

The quill made a scratch mark on the scroll, but Spike grinned and passed it off as nothing. 

> Herd Mentality
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

His hat hit the table with a jingling of bells, and the old stallion’s hoof ran across his curly mane as he sighed. Cursed be those pampered foals. 

Neigh, they could not have been expected to hold on for too long. It was in the nature of ponies to seek solace in structure, a remnants of their ancestors and the great herds of the primitive ponies, he suspected. A subject to study for a later project. 

“Teacher?” asked the voice of a young mare. 

Starswirl grunted. In a flash, a goblet of wine appeared before him, floating just before his lips. After a sip, he turned to his student, a white mare with a long pink mane. The door behind her creaked open as the younger sister peaked outside the laboratory. 

“You two cannot put it off much longer,” he said shortly. “The ponies are trying to reform the whole structure from before. It is a jest from the gods that they even managed to form something close to the old system, but luckily it is fragile. Common ponies everywhere hope to rally around you, not those that found out that they were rich after Harmony undid the Chaos God’s madness.”

The same reluctant look passed over Celestia’s face, and she quickly averted her eyes. “We are no nobles. We did not receive the education needed to rule, Teacher.”

The old mage buried his muzzle in his goblet. Then, he looked up, eyes narrowed, trails of wine trickling down his beard. “Neigh. Do not insult me by implying I don’t understand at least this much about my own students.”

“Then why insist on making us queens?” 

“We did not do this to seize power,” piped in Luna, finally decided to enter the room.

“Ponies need you two. They need strong and united leaders to rebuild the country and defend it before griffons or minotaurs or dragons decide the land is ripe for the taking.” The old stallion placed his cup down and glanced to the window on their left. “I hear rumors of war on the wind. Discontent rises in the east, my students.”

The sisters exchanged uneasy glances. The magic in the air shifted subtly, tense where the feathers on their wings shuddered. 

It was the youngest that spoke. “Ponies don’t want another immortal ruling them. Discord has scarred them for life.” 

Starswirl found himself praying for the gods to grant him patience. There was a difference between the reluctance of the inexperienced youth and the obnoxiousness of arrogant adults. “They will rally around the two mares that defeated him. They will trust you to protect them all. Where you come and announce yourselves, what welcome do you receive?”

Starswirl’s magic flared to life, and in a flash of blinding light, a map materialized onto his work table, spread with all its content laid bare. 

“In Baltimare, what did ponies say?” He put his hoof on another, near faded spot. “In Neighbraska? In Prance? In Germane? Save the lies for when a crown rest upon your brows, my students. That’s when you’ll need them. But here and now, do not deny what I know to be truth. Ponies await the moment you will claim the reigns of this shambled country.” 

His students remained silent, their eyes clouded by memories of their past travels. Doubtlessly, they remembered the cheers, the chorus of thousands hollering as one whilst they paraded down the street of the cities they had freed. ‘Discord is gone,’ they chanted. ‘Hooray for our saviours!’ 

“Look at yourselves.” Starswirl suddenly stood. “Hiding. From what? You have vanquished the threat. You have liberated a land enslaved for a hundred years. Why are you willing to let it fall into shambles now?”

Luna grabbed her sister’s hoof.

“We will do our duty.”


--


Hoofsteps came in echoes to the grandfather clock’s ticks, one beat leaning into the other with a mechanical regularity. Once in a while, creaks of wood overhead would pile on the noise, just enough to register in Edward’s mind before he put it aside and refocused his gaze on the elegant cursive. 

“Born in the now razed village of Whinny Keg in 568 After Unification, Oracle Voyageur started life without distinction.” Running water. “Until the moment he woke up his parents in the middle of the night crying about his aunt mutilated by monsters.” French cursing. “Whilst it was rather proven quickly to be false, the next week saw her convoy attacked by griffons and her body found amongst the victims. When Voyageur’s next dream showed him their house crumbling to the ground, his parents wisely gathered all their belongings and foals and left Whinny Keg forever.”  

Humming, Edward made a mental note, then turned the page. The rustling of paper mixed in with the creaks of the stairs, and the faint clinking of metal from their jailer’s armor. He said nothing in response to her grunt of acknowledgement, though in the corner of his eyes, he could still make out the shape of a greyish mare curiously picking out a half-rolled scroll. 

“Who wrote that?” Belfry snickered, a hint of bafflement ringing through her laughter. “A five year old?”

Edward barely lifted his muzzle from his book. “Ask the Frenchie. Not like he has ink all over his lips.”

Belfry’s gaze flicked to the kitchen, where the sound of running water had only grown stronger. Said stallion was vigorously wiping his face with a damp towel. When he lowered it, Belfry saw the streaks of black striding down his lips and his chin.

“Pierre? Seriously?” She guffawed. “It looks like you’ve never held a quill before.”

Said stallion scowled, rubbing at his face again until the trails of ink had grown fainter. “That’s because I haven’t.”

Belfry rolled her eyes, her smirk still well in place. “Right, pull the other one.”

“The hints pile up, but the conclusion is already drawn.” Edward closed his book, his gaze cold. “You’ll see more of it, but you can’t bear to rethink what you decided. Whatever doesn’t support your feelings about it is simply discarded. It’s called a bias, batgirl.”

Bristling, Belfry trotted right up to Edward, the corners of her lips pulled downward as she restrained a snarl. “Or, maybe, just maybe, I’m actually familiar with the laws of Equestria. Everypony learns how to read and write as a foal.”

“We aren’t from Equestria, you daft mule.” Ed rolled his eyes, entirely unimpressed. “I’d ask how many times we need to repeat it, but that would imply any of you have the capacity to think beyond your own indoctrination.”

Belfry said nothing, but her fangs flashed in the light. Her eyes were obviously calculating something, likely the cost of actually punching the pony she was assigned to protect. Maybe her rank. And since Edward was not one to back done when pushed, Pierre’s gaze darted between the two of them nervously. 

If he didn’t say something now, someone was bound to be punched in the face, and he wasn’t sure who he would be cheering on in this case. “Is it really common for bicorns not to know how to write?”

“Please,” Belfry scoffed, “as if bicorns would ever lack anything.”

Nonchalant. Bitter underneath that. The words held an unspoken challenge. Her eyes glinted, daring and at the same time hoping for silence.

The two stallions exchanged a look. “Is it common for thestrals not to?” Pierre rephrased.

Belfry’s ears twitched. “...Depends on the neighbourhood.”

“You’d almost believe thestrals were from a third world country, or some such dystopia.” He barely refrained from adding Such as Equestria at the end. 

“No,” she ground out, “it’s almost like herbivores, who fear anything with a pair of sharp teeth.”

Edward leaned in. “Are you a carnivore, batsie? Is there any basis to their fear? Or are you just what they decide that you must be?”

On the wall, the clock let out a resounding cuckoo cry. 

“Thank Luna’s plot!” Belfry shouted to the high heavens. 

On that strange outburst, the mare turned on her heels and trotted straight toward the door, not even caring to close it properly. They could hear her complain to her superior and relish in the change of post. A woosh of air followed as the only hints of her fur in the doorframe flew upward. 

Tempered Steel entered next, no trace of emotion on his face. If Belfry’s turmoil had been visible, then the stallion had either not noticed, or had been unaffected. When he spoke, he barely uttered one sentence. One that fell like a weight of iron chains on their backs. 

“Have you ever seen a thestral outside of the Night Guard?”

Both bicorns paused to consider Tempered Steel’s words. Truthfully, neither could really recall a moment in the show where they had seen them if they weren’t in Luna’s service. Their short stay in Ponyville had given them glimpses of most earth ponies, pegasi, unicorns, and even donkeys once or twice. But thestrals? No. Then again, neither had they seen other bicorns besides the one mare that had been brought. A familiar feeling of unease caressed their skin. No thestral, no bicorn. 

By the time they had dug through their memories, Tempered Steel had already began his round around the first floor. 

Edward hummed, a hoof to his chin. “So there seems to have been some truth to her ramblings and her hostile attitude.”

“What do you think it is?”

Edward took a look at his scattered papers, momentarily regretting their lack of diversity. Registers on bicorn births did not tell much about the status of other pony tribes. “Well, obviously, it must be in the opposite direction of bicorns. She is always annoyed that we protest the ‘privileges’ given to us, so it would stand to reason that the thestrals are lacking those basic accommodations.”

“She did say that she was forced to join the guard,” Pierre said slowly.

“No, frog-eater, the bat told us that she didn’t have a choice between that and starvation. I’m more of the opinion that thestrals in general don’t have other options, because no one else is willing to hire them. Steel more or less confirmed it just now. And I’m betting Luna is the reason they have a shot at jobs in the palace itself.”

Pierre looked down, dejected. It already felt as if he was grasping at straws. “It couldn’t be the lack of jobs, right?”

“Considering that any number of bicorns are sent on reserves or live on forced stipends, I would be surprised if Equestria’s economy did not have a whole chunk dedicated to this. They are not lacking in either workers or taxes. Equestria’s economy had been growing for decades before it reached its current plateau as the first world power.”

There was a pause during which Pierre collected his thoughts. He could say many things to that, but truly, he only had the desire for one. “Sometimes,” he sighed, “I really think Celestia just went insane. How is this all worth it?”

“You’re forgetting our fabled power to see into the future. That is a rather valuable asset.”

“This valuable?” Pierre asked, muzzle scrunched up. 

Edward shrugged. “I suppose it depends on what is seen. Amongst the prophecies I’ve found archived are Nightmare Moon’s return, an assassination attempt on an ambassador that would have been blamed on Equestria, a famine following a few parasprite swarms all around the countryside, and my personal favorite, the reemergence of the Crystal Empire. Sunbutt had to spend a few years negotiating with the yaks over this one.”

“The yaks?”

Edward’s smirk told it all. “It wasn’t as smooth an appearance as what we saw in the show, my dear little Frenchie.”

Instead of amusement, Pierre only felt fatigue, like a fog blurring away their futures. “Nothing is quite as simple as what we saw on the show… That being said…” he trailed off, his eyes falling on the unfolded scroll left behind by Belfry. “She might have had a point.”

Edward grunted. “Well, don’t tell her that. I am absolutely certain she would be insufferable if she thought she was proven right on anything.”

For a second, Pierre remained silent, a thoughtful frown on his face. His gaze followed Edward as he made his way back to the couch with his book tucked under one of his forelegs. Something about the way his friend had talked… well, it was the usual snide comment, of course, but… Nah. 

“Sergeant,” Pierre suddenly called. “I need your help.”

As expected, the military stallion answered the call promptly, galloping down the stairs so fast he appeared to be gliding. His golden eyes quickly scanned the room, at first in search of a threat, then focused on the French bicorn with a certain wariness. 

Traces of a blush pierced through Pierre’s maroon fur. It wasn’t a thing he ever thought he would need to ask again. “I want to present my apologies to Pinkie Pie for having disturbed her so much. I can’t write with my hooves and trying with my mouth is just a bad joke.”

Sergeant Tempered Steel raised one eyebrow. “And how exactly may I be of assistance to you?” 

Pierre jerked his head toward the table, the inkpots and the scrolls. “Well obviously, I’ll have to dictate it to you.”

The guard didn’t move. He kept his stare affixed to the blushing bicorn.

“Oh come on, you don’t want the Element of Laughter to stay sad, right?” His sheepish smile did nothing to stop the chill going through the guard’s spine. Without need for further prompting, he began trotting toward the table, when Pierre added, “Plus, it saves you the time of reading it yourself later.”

Tempered Steel did not slow down, but his voice seemed a touch tighter. “You say that as if I were looking for blackmail.”

“Aren’t you?” Edward crooned, putting a mark in the margins of the book he was reading.“I would have thought Miss Lapdog would want a ‘friendship’ report everyday.”

The thestral’s traits were carefully neutral as he took off his helmet and smoothed a sheet of paper with a press of his left wing. “A bilan of the day’s events, and a notification if something of worth happens. You two are under house arrest, after all.”

“For daring not to want to live in Ponyville, no less,” drawled Ed.

“Can you imagine what it would be like if we had actually committed a crime?” 

Steel’s brows furrowed, but he did not rise to the bait. Wordlessly, he bit into the tail end of a quilt and turned an awaiting gaze to Pierre.

“Right, should have known it wouldn’t faze you at all. So, it was something like this… Dear Pinkie Pie...”


--


Tempered Steel’s gaze had gained hints of ice and cold, almost a metallic glint, since he had left the house holding his charges. Ponies in the street gave him a wide berth. Were he a more idealistic stallion, he would have guessed that it was respect for his uniform. Alas, he wasn’t, and the old feeling of indignation crawled under his fur, then faded away as quickly as he could muster it.  

On the flipside, he never truly needed to raise his voice and call on the authority of the Princess to get through a crowd. That had been useful more than once. 

He took one look at the gingerbread-styled house and knew he had reached his destination. Without a moment’s hesitation, he knocked thrice and waited. 

The door opened on a washed-out pink mare. 

“Oh, hi Steely,” the bearer of Laughter greeted him, far more subdued than the day before. “I’m really sorry I haven’t had time to throw you a welcoming party yet. There was this cuteceanera and then the tea party with the guys, and...”  

Pinkie lowered her gaze to the ground, her smile a flimsy, fleeting thing. 

“I’ll get around to it soon. Probably the moment you come back.”

The grey stallion waved it off with a hoof, his eyes narrowed a fraction. “There is no need for that, Miss Pie.” Not that she should know they would be leaving soon either.

“Oh, yes there is. I do it for everypony. I don’t want any of you feeling left out.” Pinkie suddenly extended one hoof, presenting half a dozen of neon colored cupcakes. “So, while you guys get around to doing your super special missions, have these cupcakes to give you an idea of what you’re going to get once you come back.”

Sergeant Steel stared at the cupcakes as if they were dangerous explosives. “Where did you hide these?” 

Pinkie Pie blinked, then giggled. “I just had them with me, silly.”

“Yes... well, I was tasked with the delivery of a message,” Steel said, pulling from his saddle bag a neatly folded paper.  

Pinkie took the paper in hoof, eyes widening slightly with wonder. “A message, for little old me?”

“Dear Pinkie Pie, I want to tell you I am sorry for the...”

Said mare’s narration cut short as her eyes flicked to the lines below. Her mane deflated slightly, and she scrambled to put on a good smile for Tempered Steel. 

“Thank you for the letter,” she said. A poor lie. Pinkie seemed to want nothing to do with the letter at all. She half hid behind the door, her hoof on the doorknob. “You can go back now. With your head held super high for a mission accomplished.”

“Miss Pie.” Tempered Steel put a hoof in the doorframe. “The letter was dictated to me. I know the topic at hooves is a heavy one. And what he mentions has not been found in any historical records.”

“That’s… that’s nice,” she sniffled, before pushing the door close and running through the bakery. 

She heard Mr. Cake call her name, a touch annoyed, but mostly concerned. Pinkie nearly stopped right there and then, would have broken the laws of physics as if they were mere suggestions had it not been for a voice in the back of her head that said ‘millions!’ She climbed up the stairs at breakneck speed, and hid herself in the privacy of her room. 

The letter, now crumbled in her grasp, trembled. 

Pinkie breathed out a sigh, then lowered her voice until it resembled the Prench stallion’s. 

“I want to tell you that I am sorry for the sorrow I caused you. And yet, I do not take it back. Everything I said was the honest truth. Back in my home country, everyone had their lives irremediably changed by that war. The country surrendered to the invaders, the resistance went underground, and so many people died… It just so happened that my great-grandparents would have never met if not for those circumstances.”    

She heard again, ‘millions’, and droplets hit the paper. Pierre’s voice seemed shaken. 

“You’re probably wondering why I’m saying this. It’s because of what you said. The laws made it possible for your family to exist. And I get that, in a roundabout way. No one gets to choose what circumstances they’re born in. You have bicorns up your family tree, so I understand that those laws are a sensitive topic for you. Maybe you feel like you owe them something. Without them, would you or your family have been born? It’s hard to tell. The past is the past however. It can’t be changed.”            

“Those bicorns that lived and died are gone. It’s not their feelings that count. It’s not the ‘what if’ and the ‘should have’ either. It’s the ‘what might be’ that matters.”

“Fluttershy said bicorns need help. She was right about that, but not about why. How many of them are unhappy, Pinkie Pie?”

The cotton candy pink mare put down the letter with little fanfare, then glanced to the framed picture on her stand. 


--


Vivid green hills and laboured fields flowed past the windows like water trickling down a stream. 

Pierre sighed. It felt silly, needlessly sentimental. But it was like a pinch on his heart. The thrums of the train’s wheels rolling on the tracks, the faint buzzing of the seats not quite shaken by the motion, the cheap cushions growing steadily less comfortable every passing hour. He hadn’t realized he missed it. He hadn’t thought it would remind him of home. 

Equestria did not have cars or planes or even bicycles. But it had trains. So, of course, they would board on one and he would have hours to kill. 

Long, fruitless hours whilst he tried not to see the transparent reflection of a bicorn in the cart’s windows. Not to imagine someone typing on a laptop’s keyboards three seats over. Not to wait for an electronic voice to ring through the wagon and announce the next train station. 

Though, newspapers pages crumbling whilst they were turned by their owner… that part he needed not imagine. 

Pierre glanced to his right, at Edward and the small mountain of newspapers he had scattered around him. Points to him, it was something to do instead of just waiting to arrive at the reserve.

God, the reserve. A big gilded cage for a lot of bicorns. If Twilight had expected them to be thrilled to meet more bicorns, well, she clearly would have been in denial. They had not… made a fuss, per say. Kind of useless at this point. Protest loudly? Yes. Deride Twilight’s general existence and stubbornness? Also yes until she had used a silencing spell. 

He had felt his eyes go wide, and he had tried to meet Attention Span’s gaze. The private had averted his. Edward, on the other hand, had glared. Hard. It was as if the alicorn had lit a brasier behind his eyes. 

When Twilight lifted her spell, long after her explanation had been given, neither of them had spoken out loud. Not yet. At the train station though, Edward had made the request for some newspapers. To their curious and suspicious looks, he had answered: 

“I want something to read during the train ride. Are you afraid I’ll die of a papercut now? Or is there something you fear we will learn by looking at the local news?”

For a moment, the princess had seemed unsure on how to proceed. Her wings had fluttered near imperceptibly. Her eyes had glanced over the frontpage of papers lying on the stand, then to the pony behind the counter. Finally, with one word, she had agreed, and stepped inside the train.

Tempered Steel had been selected to watch over them. A practical choice, all in all. Sergeant Tempered Steel generally kept his tongue still unless asked, never rose to baits and honestly was the least likely to cause either Pierre or Edward reason to complain. Half the time, Pierre forgot the guard was even there with them.

That probably could become very dangerous, but for now, he’d take the respite. Even without it, he might still throw up from the nerves alone. 

Finally, unable to just sit still and think any longer, he stood and trotted up to his English friend. “Why did you get so many newspapers?”

Edward’s answer had his typical flair. “Unlike a certain bicorn that I will not name, I like to be kept informed of recent events in my surroundings.”

“Urgh, Ed, can you not? We’re on our way to a reserve, and I am already stressed enough thinking that Twilight will just dump us there.” He shot a glance to their guard, hoping to catch a reaction, a hint, something! “What are we going to do if she does?!”

“She’s not,” Edward snorted, not even rising his muzzle from his papers. “It’s a matter of pride now, and our neurotic little princess lapdog can’t stand the thought that her pet project failed. Can you imagine the letter? Dear Princess Celestia, I did not for a second imagine that some ponies did not want to fuck total strangers and have kids because I told them to. Especially after they said so. I’m a failure, your ex-student, Twilight Sparkle.”

Well, Pierre mused, Twilight probably wouldn’t send a letter like that to Princess Celestia. 

“Okay, I kind of get your point. Still...”

He had to think of something else. Anything else. He’d take an intrusive examination by countless doctors and nurses again if it meant not thinking about the fact that they were heading for a reserve. Yes, he would. Even if his rump would hold a grudge against him for the rest of his life. He had reached that kind of low.

Or he could speak to Ed. Almost the same thing to him, really. “What are you reading exactly?”

“The obituary.”

Pierre repressed the shiver that danced on his spine at the morbid reply, and settled for a simple disturbed look. “Why?”

“Because I have noticed something interesting.”

And the shivers doubled. Joy. Did Edward have to give such a creepy answer to his question? What could be so interesting about the obituaries of half a dozen newspapers? 

Without prompting, Edward’s hooves displaced the papers spread in front of him, cycling through the names on the fronts easily. He seemed not to need much effort to sort through his mess. Then again, for a bookstore owner… It probably was second nature to him, or so Pierre imagined. 

“Here. Take a look at this article,” Ed prompted. 



YOUNG TEENAGER FOUND DEAD AFTER HIS SIXTEENTH BIRTHDAY.



For a moment, Pierre hung his head, his fringe hiding his eyes from sight. It was another piece of his mental Equestria stripped away. A layer off the dream-like place, another hint of cold on his fur. The words on the paper clawed at that silly idea. 

“Bordel...” For a moment, he struggled to speak. Suicide. Of course, ponies committed suicide. A bicorn, in this case. “I… why would you read that?”

“I see you haven’t noticed. Typical, seeing the tree but not the forest.”

With a somewhat smug smirk, the Brit shoved the papers very nearly into his friend’s face. But the offended shout that Pierre wanted to let out died a premature death. His eyes had fallen on the number next to his friend’s gray hoof, and suddenly, he did not quite know what to say.

“Page twenty-two?” he said slowly. Wait, something wasn’t right about that. 

Edward nodded. “You’d think by how much coddling they do, ponies would care far more about a bicorn’s suicide, right?”

Pierre’s brows furrowed together. As much as he was loathed to admit it, Edward had a point. It did not quite fit with what the Equestrians thought of bicorns. If their lives were so precious as to build an entire system around, then their deaths… 

“You’re right. That doesn’t make much sense.”

“Well, I extrapolated two hypothesis so far: one, that they’re lying about caring about bicorns,” Edward counted on his hoof with a sardonic smile, “two, they do care, but this is so common that it’s not newsworthy anymore.”

Pierre grabbed one of the opened paper lying around. His frown deepened as he took note of the page. “Neither sound right… It has to be at least a little newsworthy if there are articles on them.”

“Why don’t we ask one of our charming captors?” Edward stretched his neck to look over the benches and to the end of the wagon. “Sergeant, any comment?”

The thestral’s armor clinked as he turned his head, expression blank.

“None. You’d have to ask the newspapers’ owners.”

“Do I?” Edward said in an entirely too pleasant and polite tone of voice. “Shouldn’t I look for censors first? What’s the law on publishing?”

Tempered Steel’s eyes narrowed. “The only law in place is the obscenity law, forbidding the public presence of sexual intercourse, obscene swearing and violence in general media. Those cannot be published and advertised for the general public. Opinions that do not contradict this are not subject to censorship, Edward.”

“Even the idea that bicorns are lazy goatheads undeserving of their privileges? Can that be published?”

The guard remained silent for a moment. “Yes. It won’t net you a broad readership though. Princess Celestia stops buying the papers that present tribalists opinions.”

Edward scoffed. With a roll of his eyes, he dismissed the guard and returned to his readings. “Ponies are more sheep than bicorns is what you’re saying. A little braying herd that listens to the good shepherd Sunbutt.”

Curiously, his comment netted no reaction out of Tempered Steel. Edward filed that away in the back of his mind. It could be nothing. It could be something rather important. 

“So,” Pierre said, finally sitting down on one of the few spots not occupied by a newspaper, “it’s not censorship, but ponies won’t read what Celestia dislikes. At least, we know that they probably like her as much as the canon version.”

“Probably.” Ed shrugged. “It would be better if there were more dissenting opinions.”

At this, Pierre grinned. “Oh, but there are. Remember how ponies react to us? We’re too privileged. Thunderlane pretty much hated us on sight. Could be jealousy. Same with Rainbow. She sounded pretty pissed about how undeserving we are.”

For a moment, the Brit considered the point. It wasn’t exactly wrong, but he wouldn’t readily call it the dissent he was looking for. He needed something more… substantial. “Rainbow Dash is a hothead, obviously, but would you bet on her contradicting the princesses? ”

Pierre’s ears drooped. “Touché.”

“Spare me your asinine language, snail-slurper,” Ed said with a smirk. 

At times like this, Pierre had to wonder what really made them friends. There probably had to be a masochistic component to it. What kind of friends took so many potshots at each others? Or maybe, they were both just that desperate for allies. 

“Right. Whatever, crooked teeth. Why were you reading the obituary anyway? Trying to satisfy your necrophiliac fetish?”

“Between the two of us,” Ed laughed, “the one considering bestiality isn’t me. Now, shut your mouth for a second, a challenge, I know, and listen. I’ve found six bicorns in eight publications. Of those, only one was of old age.”

What little comfort could be found in their old vitriolic routine vanished. The realization crashed onto him like a tidal wave. He did not ask for the cause of death for the other five. He knew. He knew, Edward knew, he had shoved it in his face. 

The smile found on Edward’s face had turned into something sharp, something cold and angry. “Bicorns are born and die somewhat faster than their population can bear. It seems to be an old problem, I’ve seen mentions of it going back about a century. Why do you think they seem so desperate to raise the number of births so much?”

Pierre’s mouth clamped shut. He… he did not want to say it. He did not want to think it, to look at the numbers and wonder, again, to think back on a mare with a timid smile and her army of siblings. Had she… did she know somepony that had? Five in six, in eight different newspapers. Today’s toll. They did not have the knowledge yet. 

But she must have. Some pony or another, close to her. A friend of a friend. A neighbour. A pony she used to see at the market. One or another. And she would be far from the only one. How…? How did ponies not look at it and beg Celestia to stop this madness?

Deep down, maybe he knew. It was not such an alien concept after all. 

“Edward…” Pierre gulped. “I think I see the reserve.”

A rare hint of doubt flashed in Edward’s eyes before he forced it out. His face appeared carved in stone as grey as the fur on his body. With a stoic look, he turned to where Pierre pointed, and examined the sight through the window. 

In the distance, away from the skyline of Baltimare a lone mound of grey cut through the blue sky.  


---


The shadow of the rock bore on their heads. Sounds seemed to close around them, the sound of their hooves creating echoes under the arches. The guards on each side of the path melted in the gray as if they were statues, as unmoving and unyielding. Belfry and Steel at their back pushed them forth. 

That was it. The reserves. The big fancy cage Equestria dumped its bicorns into. 

Their little group came to a halt in front of a veritable barricade, one toward which Twilight confidently strode. Bronze and Span stopped just short of reaching it, and turned completely toward the two bicorns. 

Nopony said a word. They let the silence and the darkness fill in their wait. 

Pierre’s lung felt as if they had caught fire. Every breath, too short, too small. He needed more. He needed more air, and they were stuck beneath tons of rocks, stuck inside a cage where the walls closed on them. 

“Get a hold of yourself, Pierre.”

The annoyed grunt he meant to throw back became nothing more than a rasp wheeze. A cough. Sharp, quickening intakes of air. His legs trembled, unable to carry his weight anymore. They were going to throw them both in a cage and sit on the key. He had to run. He had to leave, right now! NOW!

The flurry of feather shot a bolt of adrenaline straight through his veins. They squeezed, they pulled at his shoulders, and he squirmed, struggled, wanted to scream, but couldn’t breath. Were they trying to strangle him?!     

“Slow,” Attention Span said, “slow. Relax. Slow breaths, Pierre. Just like mine. Listen.”

Listen, he heard, inhale, exhale, listen. Not his heartbeat, a deafening pulse throbbing in his ears. Not the voices in the back of his head. Not the screeches of panic. 

Listen. Slow. 

Inhale, exhale. 

Warmth was spreading through his back. The feathers weren’t strangling him. They were stroking his back, soft. His blurring vision returned to normal, the unfocused figures becoming clearer, the slatters of gold and silver becoming metal plates, the blobs, ponies. 

And one, yellow, smiling, still so youthful looking, rubbing a hoof against Pierre’s shoulder. “Feeling better?” Attention Span asked.

Wiping sweat from his brows, Pierre nodded wordlessly. Everypony was watching him, thoughtful or annoyed. Little concern beyond Attention Span’s. And Twilight Sparkle’s. 

That last detail creeped him out more than anything else. At that second, he thought he might have been able to take it if it were fake. If it were a trap, an evil so blatant it would laugh at his misery. No, Twilight Sparkle, the very mare that had requested he be brought in this accursed place, looked at him with concern. 

“If everypony is ready then,” she trailed off, making Pierre’s tail flick nervously, “then let’s get inside. I’ve cleared it all with the captain of the garrison.”

Their little group marched forward, Span still at Pierre’s side, making small talk under his breath. The bicorn stallion didn’t listen, not truly, but he preferred the private’s voice to his own fears. It would take just a moment to unleash the flood of repressed emotions again. He trotted slightly behind, Bronze Chainmail closing the march. 

And though he tried to hide it, Edward’s movements were a touch stiffer than before. Rattled one might say, off if only slightly. 

They couldn’t compare this inner city with Ponyville. Whereas the little town had sprouted from the arrival of new families around the apple orchards, the reserve of Baltimare had been planned, down to the detail. Each row seemed meticulously aligned to give an equal yet modest space to each house that occupied it. Edward and Pierre needed barely stretch their neck to see how the streets met at perfect perpendicular angles at exactly the same distance, over and over, until a town square of sort near the very center of the reserve.

“You’d think they got a good deal on the brown paint. Nobody can like the colour that much,” Edward quipped, though neither he nor Pierre so much as smiled. 

Truthfully enough, most roofs were of brown or brick red shades, or something in-between. It did not pop with anywhere near the impact of the Carousel Boutique or Surgarcube Corner. It lacked… personality. 

On the other hand, within the walls bicorns abound. From around every corner, more bicorns trotted down the streets of the reserve. 

Most went about their businesses with neutral or focused expression, not unlike humans in a big city. Yet, on ponies, it did not seem quite right. What it was, the two former humans did not understand right away. However, when they saw the element missing, they felt a chill crawl down their spines. Here and there, they noticed some stallions and mares with a cutie mark of flowers or quills or baby bottles. However, even those rare drawings would fade in the crowd, disappearing from sight beneath the sea of markless fur.

In this crowd, it wasn’t Edward or Pierre that stood out. Their escort, already clunky with their heavy armor, already peculiar by their lack of horns, would have stood out by virtue of their cutie marks alone. Indeed, the bicorns that trotted by almost all turned their heads toward the guards, curious if nothing else in the presence of unknown guardponies.

“A struggling population, huh?” Pierre deadpanned. 

Certainly, going through those crowded streets, one might have been allowed doubts on the endangered status of bicorns. 

If they were to escape attention for a minute or so… 

No, Edward shook his head and eyed the walls. They would be stuck inside. So far, their only hope of leaving this place was through the doors, with Twilight Sparkle, loathed as they were to admit it. This wasn’t the place for their daring escape, not yet. 

Besides, he added as an afterthought, there wouldn’t be a better place to fill in the holes in their knowledge. 

“So,” he drawled, “is there any plan for this charming visit, Princess Sparklehead, or are we going to aimlessly wander through the crowd as technicolored ghosts?”

The very idea seemed to be a personal affront. “Don’t be silly, Edward, of course there is a plan. I’ve already compiled a list of common experiences known to bicorns for you guys to see.”

“Well, if you said anything, we’d--” His words got cut off as he bumped into a frozen Pierre. “Frenchie?”

He only blinked, looking to the other side of the street, where a mare had stopped dead in her tracks. “Fortune?”

“Pierre!”

The aura of gloom and doom that had followed the young stallion lifted entirely at the sight of the mare running toward them. Forgetting the guards and any pony watching in, he broke into a run to meet her in the middle of the road. 

Their hooves hovered in the air awkwardly, both stopped mid-stride, remembering their last agreement. But then, Pierre threw caution to the wind and just grabbed her hoof to share a quick hug. “It’s good to see you.”

“What are you doing here?” she asked, breathless, smiling widely. “I thought you two were supposed to live in Ponyville for the time being.”

Twilight stepped in. “Oh, that’s on me. I wanted Pierre and Edward to see how Equestrian bicorns lived. And help them make new connections with their peers.”

“Oh! Princess!” Fortune scrambled to detach herself from Pierre and lowered her head in a bow. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t notice you.”

“Too busy ogling the Frenchie...” Ed muttered.

Pierre struck him on the shoulder, more irate than he had looked with any other teasing.

Now rather used to their antics, Princess Twilight paid them both no mind, instead looking at Fortune. “Please, don’t mind me. This is precisely the kind of things I wanted them to experience. Authentic, verified bicorn lives. Do go on.”

Being sanctioned by a princess to continue with an unexpected reunion failed to make her at ease, especially in front of a bunch of strangers, one of whom stared judgmentally. She couldn’t make eye contact, the weight of the group’s expectations growing with every passing second. How did one act naturally when they were asked? All she could think of was whistling, and she had always been terrible at that. 

“You know,” she heard Pierre’s soft whisper, “if you had errands to run, places to be, we won’t bother you at all. Don’t worry about what Twilight was saying.”

He was close, his hoof raised and near her chin, as if he had attempted but stopped himself from touching her. If she wanted, she could focus on him alone. But she stepped back, spoke more clearly. 

“You... ” Fortune looked away, a faint blush to her cheeks. “You gave me a tour of Ponyville. Maybe I could… repay the favor?” 

Neither mentioned that it had been a little bit more than a tour. That they’d trotted close enough to touch, that sometimes they had paused and looked at the other with shorter breathes, quicker heartbeat. They had made a choice already. 

But here and now, Pierre could hardly see the harm. He smiled, roguish. “I’d love that.”

Unfortunately, they were not alone. “Keep it in your pants, Frenchie,” Ed hissed in his ears.. 

“We’re not wearing pants, smartass,” Pierre whispered back.

“All the more reason. No one wants to see your baguette.”

Pierre froze, his hooves digging into the pavement. 

Then, he looked at Fortune who was trying to keep a polite and patient smile on her face. And he blushed down to his hooves. And then some. Not for the first time, but certainly with the most intensity, he remembered that they were all naked here. Very, very naked. 

Bordel, he was going to die. And then roll in his grave. And then die again.

He was naked, she was naked, fucking Edward was naked and watching, alongside a handful of nudist ponies. God, what had he done to deserve this?

“Are you okay?” Fortune asked, because she was a good person and not at all a jerk like a certain friend of his.

His answer to her translated as a high-pitched wheeze. 

Edward shook his head. “A poor French lover, as if he wasn’t sad enough.”

“What did you even say to him?” Belfry asked, one eyebrow raised higher than the other. 

The Brit’s grin was entirely too smug for his own good. “The better question is what went through his mind when I finished.”

“Wow!” Pierre exclaimed. “Look at the time. We better get started if we want to do this before sunset, right?! We have a reserve to visit. Let’s go.”

And chuckling as if he wanted to die, he pulled Fortune forward, alternating between ‘ignore him’, ‘he’s a jerk’ and ‘so, this is where you live, huh?’ The mare followed suit, bemused, sometimes glancing back to the rest of the group that stepped forth behind them. Every time she did, Pierre made another comment, stretching his imagination to find anything worthwhile as a distraction. 

Yes, the shops were interesting in their own right, but they lacked a certain diversity. The fifth flower shops and the third arts and crafts supply store they went past sapped his creativity, ironically enough. 

“And, huh, this one is… another flower shop… It must be… something…” He swallowed, his mouth too dry, a few beads of sweat rolling on his brows. “I mean, do you, no, I already asked that the last time…”

A gentle hoof brushed against his. “It’s okay, Pierre.”

“I wasn’t thinking of anything,” he swore under his breath.

A rare twinkle of mischief sparked in Fortune’s gaze, and she murmured  “I wouldn’t have minded if you had.”

It sent shivers down his spine, his ears standing straight at attention. Like every muscles in his body had tensed. Oh boy. This was bad. Fortune had noticed, she giggled in her hoof, all too pleased by his reaction. And he had to force his legs to keep moving, to keep trotting by her side. That laugh, he could let slide. 

“We’re nearly at the center of the reserve,” Fortune announced to Edward and the rest of their escort. 

A fact they soon noticed by the increasing thickness of the crowd. Bicorns filled in the streets in these parts, adults almost always leading foals behind them. The noise level grew until they could hardly hear each other speak. One could no longer trot without bumping into another pony.

The marketplace resembled Ponyville’s, though much larger, the stands curiously manned by a mixture of bicorns and other ponies. They shouted much the same things. Their products were the best, the very best, approved by Celestia herself!  

That call left a bitter taste in both former humans’ mouths. Oh, they had no doubt the products must have been approved by Celestia in person. They could have done without. 

Pierre however kept his expression awed, and his smile joyful as Fortune pointed some pony or another to describe what usually was sold around the market. 

“--and Cash Crop has some of the best berries you’ll find, but only by the end of the seventh moon of the month. Before, it’s all terrible,” Fortune stage whispered to Pierre. 

“What does she do the rest of the time?”

“Pretend it’s good,” she giggled, and Pierre joined in.

Two paces behind, Edward observed the collections of fruits and vegetables splayed over the tables. “No luxury ingredients here,” he commented evenly. 

Belfry’s eyes narrowed on him, not that Edward seemed affected in the slightest. He kept a close watch on the produce being sold, mouthing names and numbers. A slow, churning feeling seized Belfry in her stomach, and she glanced to Chainmail, whose frown had deepened. Neither spoke, but they glanced around the crowd and kept a tighter formation. 

Their progress went unimpeded. Despite the crowd, the guards never needed to break through. Ponies stepped around them without even looking, as if they were rocks in the middle of the river. Soon, they had left the market place.

This district obviously was residential. For one, neither Pierre nor Edward could detect any shop’s sign hanging from the walls. Beyond that however, most houses were aligned in perfectly neat rows, the only differences between them the flower pots on the porches and the heads moving behind the windows. 

In contrast to the market place where every word not shouted was lost to the ambient noise, here only the chatter between Pierre and Fortune filled in the silence, with the occasional interjection from Twilight or Attention Span. Edward would rather not willingly inflict that on himself.

Just then, three mares trotted past him reading a list to each other. His ears caught the words ‘potatoes’ and ‘haybars’. He would have looked away, forgetting that detail entirely, if not for the sight that chilled his blood. Seven foals no older than the Cutie Mark Crusaders trailed behind them like obedient ducklings. They were blathering exceedingly loudly about the useless frivolities children loved to care about. And their voices squeaked. 

His ears twitched. 

He shuddered. Nope, he thought, never.

In a way, it served as a good reminder of the stakes. If they failed, he would have to be the happy father of a brood of demanding little brats. His worst nightmares did not compare to that. 

He shot an accusing look at Twilight. “Why, this is all very interesting. Fascinating even. It sure does make me want to know more about the culture of ‘my’ people.” 

Tension thickened the air around them. Their guide alone did not gaze at him in suspicion, and that was for lack of knowing him. She would learn in time, he imagined.

“Fortune, my dear, there has to be a library or something equivalent in this town, isn’t there? I’d like to find something to read. It is a favourite pastime of mine.”

“Oh,” said Fortune, blushing a little, “right, sorry. There is one on --”

“I’m not sure that’s appropriate, Edward,” cut in Twilight Sparkle. “The restriction of genres still apply.”

She had spoken tensely, her words clipped. She was frowning, standing firm with her wings clasped on her sides, unaware that behind her, Fortune had blinked in silent surprise.

“Why, bring me something by a bicorn author then,” Edward retorted with a sneer. “They would have respected whatever inane conventions you have come up with. Surely writing can’t be too strenuous of a job. You wouldn’t have banned that, right?”

“...Later,” Twilight said as if it were painful. “I brought you here to meet bicorns, Edward. You won’t meet new ponies by locking yourself in a library. Trust me, I know.”

Edward’s face twisted as if he had bitten into a lemon. Through his teeth, he mumbled something that resembled ‘trust her? I’d rather swallow a porcupine dry’.

“I do apologize for this scene, Miss Fortune,” Twilight bowed her head. “Please, continue.”

It was a relief when, a few minutes later, Fortune led them on the porches of one of the houses. Though this one lacked any particular distinction, the flashes of excitement on the mare’s face told them what they needed to know.

“I’m home!” Fortune called as she threw the door open. “And we’ve got visitors!” 

Pierre and Edward followed, the former with an hesitation he recognized in the days of his adolescence. Though they would be loathed to admit it, they had expected the interior to be as dull and repetitive as the rows of houses. But the walls were a vibrant green and couches in the living room were buried under pile of multi-colored pillows. Somepony lived here. Many ponies, in fact. Pictures littered the top of the hearth, the number of ponies within always growing. At the center, an olive stallion leaned against a cyan mare. From where they stood however, neither visitors could make out more details. 

And too little time to move closer. From the adjacent room came four ponies, all crowned by twin horns, all seemingly of age with Tempered Steel. Three mares and a stallion, the latter of which scanned for Good Fortune with silver-like eyes. His mouth curved into a half-smile, slowing down just in time for one of the mares to trot well past him. 

Whilst her partners were softened angles and quiet surprise, this one towered over them, trotting with purpose, barely stopping when she caught sight of an alicorn in her home. She ignored them all in favor of getting up to Fortune and nuzzling her on the cheeks. The others, however, recognized their visitor.

“Oh my, Princess Twilight Sparkle?” gasped one of the mares, before dropping into a bow, her black mane falling over the rest of her purple coat. 

Her partners tried to follow suit, but one of them only managed to lower her head, hoof clutching to her bloated belly. Not that they needed worrying. Twilight Sparkle nervously looked aside, fighting the faint blush lingering on her cheeks. “Rise, please.”

“To what do we owe the honour, Princess?” asked the lone stallion of the herd, his voice gentle and soft. “Does it concern our eldest daughter?”

For a second, the young alicorn appeared lost, before it suddenly clicked, and her posture straightened into a royal countenance. With a gentle voice, she explained that her daughter was ultimately tangentially related to the problem at hooves. Rather, the two bicorn stallions had cruelly lacked any sort of interactions with their kind before. Her explanation stretched on, both subjects of her speech drifting away from it. 

“These are my parents, Pierre,” Fortune whispered, forgetting about the rest of the group. “My father, Evocator, and his three wives. Good Omens in the middle is my mother, while Presage on her left and Starry Eyes on her right are my herd-mothers.”

One of the mares, Good Omens, Pierre repeated, stepped back from her daughter and eyed Pierre suspiciously. 

“Is this the stallion that you met, Fortune?” she asked, and the atmosphere suddenly grew thick and heavy. 

Pierre found himself smiling just a touch too wide, a fearful look in his eyes as they darted quickly between all three adult bicorns. In particular, he kept a tighter guard in regard to the orange mare who resembled Fortune the most. Her horns were angled just enough to seem threatening without being outright.  

She also happened to be heavily pregnant. 

Luckily, Fortune’s father, a knowing, fond look on his face, called out, “Honey, come back here, I think you’re triggering that colt’s sense all over.”

The second mare broke apart her hug with Fortune and turned to her herd sister with a roll of her eyes. “You weren’t this protective of Estray and Daydream. They had to find new partners too.”

“Yes, but Estray and Daydreams are stallions. They get the easy part of foalmaking. I’m not going to just let any colt make my daughter go through that.” She gestured at her bloated midsection. 

For a second, Good Omens’ partners looked hesitant. The cyan mare’s face fell, hints of wrinkles appearing around the corner of her eyes. Unspoken things flashed in her gaze. Questions. Bitter replies. She stepped in closer, and Good Omens leaned in without a word. 

Evocator gently nuzzled her. “Fortune will have to go through it eventually, Omens.”

Something on Good Omens’ face twisted. “Yes, she will have to. But not with the first stallion that looks her way.”

“Mom, it’s fine,” Fortune urged. “We talked, and we don’t think we would be right for each other. You don’t need to worry.”

Presage tossed a strand of her white mane aside and smiled knowingly. For a second, the mare seemed the repress a laugh. The next moment however, she was next to her daughter in all but name, stroking the side of her face. “As if we ever could stop.”

Sensing an opportunity, Starry Eyes ambushed their daughter with a sneaky hug. The poor filly hid her blushing face from view, moaning in despair “Auntie… not in front of P… the Princess...”

Good Omens and Evocator watched on the scene with near identical smiles. 

Pierre and Edward only felt a vague tingling at the base of their horns for sole warning before a door on the right wall suddenly opened. In stepped a mare greatly resembling Fortune, but with a softer traits, hints of childishness still in the shape of her face and her legs.          

“What’s going on? I could hear you all--” The teenaged filly stopped, her blue eyes going wide at the sight of Pierre, flicking to Fortune and then back to the French stallion. “Celestia! Fortune, is he your stallion?! Oh, I’m so happy for you! Finally! You must be so pleased.”

Pierre’s lungs depleted of air as the newcomer barreled into him and threw her forelegs around his shoulders. 

“And strong too! Look at him!” she marveled, fawned, cooed. 

The attention made him flinch. She was much too young. More like a little girl daydreaming about a princess’ life than a teenager. 

Pierre loudly squawked as the embrace went from sisterly to far-from-sisterly. Rearing, he jumped back, his tail now curled protectively over his right flank. Not that it seemed to register in the filly’s mind, now giggling.

“Oh hay, you look plain dreamy! Fortune, you have to share him! Our foals would be so pretty. Can you imagine what they would be like?”

With a sigh of pure longing, Faith twirled on herself, daydreams filling her gaze and her smile. One could imagine her, years later, cooing over little foals and nursing them against her chest. The desire radiated off her very skin like a crackling fire. 

And just as Fortune opened her mouth, likely to chastise her sister, Faith turned toward Edward. “Are you--?”

“No.” He refused to even let the thought be completed. “It’s never going to happen. With anyone.”

A hoof met a forehead. “Sorry about that,” Fortune whispered. 

“Likewise,” Pierre deadpanned.

“Good Faith!” snapped her father. “Give the poor lad breathing space. Besides, he’s been selected for Fortune. There is no guarantee that he would be well-suited for you.”

Good Omens rolled her eyes. “And I can tell you right now, two sisters after the same stallion never ends well.”

“But you and Aunt Starry Eyes got along fine!”

The two older mares shared a look filled to the brim with secrets over their daughter’s protest. Their sardonic smile made Pierre shiver. 

Those two definitely have a big history.

“Besides,” -- Faith pouted -- “didn’t Fortune say they weren’t right for each other? ”

Pierre deflated. So, yes, that had been said. It wasn’t that he regretted it exactly. He had no intention to stay in Equestria long enough to be in a relationship. Not in the slightest. But, sometimes, when he found himself hoping to catch a glimpse of Fortune’s smiles, he forgot.       

“Faith… ” Fortune growled.

“Okay,” the teenaged mare breathed, “okay, I’m sorry. I got a bit excited. It’s just...  I can’t believe my Health Screen test is tomorrow! I’ll finally be able to look into finding my own partner and having my own foals and helping Equestria!”

“Yes, yes, you will, dear,” sighed Starry Eyes. “But in the meantime, you are still supposed to be cleaning up the kitchen. Don’t think I didn’t hear the clatter of silverware before you got here. They better be well-sorted when I go take a look this evening.” 

“But...” Faith gestured helplessly toward Pierre, and vaguely toward Edward and the rest of the escort.

“You heard me, young lady.”

With a series of badly concealed curses, Good Faith made her way back to whence she came, dragging her hooves as much as physically possible while the rest waited.

Pierre cleared his throat. “Your little sister is… intense?”

To this, Fortune replied with a mysterious smile and a peck on the cheek. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”

As if it were a cue, Evocator turned to the stairs and bellowed “Hey, come down, we have guests! Fortune’s beau is here!”

Stomps rang through the air, mad beats on an infernal drum. A dark look of satisfaction passed on Good Omens’ face, and Pierre suddenly searched for exits. 

“Huh… Fortune?” he shot a nervous glance back to the mare, taking a step away from the rumbling stairs. 

He ought to have taken twenty. Shouting excitedly, half a dozen young bicorns came galloping down the stairs with all the grace of a tumbling elephant. And they only had eyes for him.

Fortune, that beautiful traitor, chimed in, “Here comes the brood.”

Pierre might have screamed, had he had the time. Alas, the first of Fortune’s sibling must have just hit puberty, and was just tall enough put Pierre on imbalance. The next three were much younger, but much more enthusiastic, and slammed into his right side. With a yelp, he fell to the ground -- mercifully on no foal -- , at which point they decided they would rather dogpile the poor stallion. 

“No, guys, girls,” Fortune said between giggles, “let him breath.” She made a half-hearted attempt at pushing off a little filly with soft pink fur. “He needs air too, you know. Oh, come on, he’s still going to be there in five seconds, Cornucopia.”

“Heeeeelp...” Pierre groaned, barely audible in the midst of all that chaos. “Fortune, you betrayed me.”

Not more than three ponies lengths away, the spectators observed the scene, baffled. 

“...Are we supposed to help him?” asked Attention Span, after a moment of stunned silence. 

Belfry shrugged helplessly. 

“So this is how it ends. Suffocated under a pile of excited furballs,” Edward said in a monotone, a hoof over his heart. “How fitting for my fallen comrade.”

From his right rose a raspy voice. “Haven’t heard a coo from you yet, colt. What’s with you?”

Edward hid his surprise, half-turning to take in the sight of this previously hidden pony. Though, on a second look, he could understand why none had noticed. Beneath a bundle of haphazardly thrown together blankets, one mare, her face ravaged by wrinkles, glared at Edward through dusty spectacles. 

“Lady, I despise foals. I never understood the fuss about them. They’re needy and most are rather bratty too.”

“A stallion after my heart.” The old mare barked a laugh and rocked her chair back. “As if we need more yappering about the house. If I could smack my past self about it, I’d tell her to just go for the centers. At least they don’t expect you to raise them after. Maybe I could have done something with my life instead!”

“Mother!” shouted one of the adult bicorns. 

The old mare scoffed. “Oh, don’t call me mother. There are enough little goats that legitimately do, don’t try to do it just because you married my son.”     

Presage hovered close, her brows furrowed and her mouth left open. One moment she reached for the old mare, the other she held back. With a sigh, she turned around to try and get control of the army of foals still suffocating one of their guests.

Fortune’s grand-mother eyed her daughter-in-law with disdain. Settling in her chair, rubbing her front hooves together, she closed her patchwork blanket over her frail body.

“Honestly, those mares. When I was young, it was still rare for a bicorn not to ever get a cutie mark.” She turned to Edward, stern. “How many of them did you see, just today? A dozen? A hundred? Hay, by the looks of it, even you don’t know what to do with yourself, young stallion. Faith, that sweet fool, thinks that having foals is a happiness in itself. Ah! Try saying it after you take care of a crying foal in the middle of the night while having trouble walking because of the one in your belly. Try it before you speak.”

“My heart goes to you, oh venerable one,” Edward offered with a gallant bow. “I cannot try it because of my inherent maleness, but even imagining it seems a cruel and thoughtless fate.”

“Why, are you trying to make me swoon, you vile flatterer?” The old mare cackled. “But seriously, talk some sense into my granddaughters, will you? My son and his flock of hens are too young and naïve to bother. You’d think Omens would get it, half the time she gets my hopes up. But no, it’s always about the ‘right’ stallion. Like that changes anything!”

The guards exchanged uncomfortable looks, their indignation as clear as the fact that they could not in good conscience argue with such a fragile and ancient pony.

Grinning, Edward did not say anything yet. He did not need to, judging by the scandalized look on Twilight Sparkle’s face. Such a sight alone deserved to be immortalized. If only he had had his phone on him, he could have taken a picture of the princess and printed a poster. 

Alas, the passage had stripped them of everything but their minds. So, he would make do.

“Well, I think this little trip is working,” Ed declared with faux-enthusiasm. “Meeting other bicorns has shown me the errors of my way. I definitely want to get myself a herd now.”

Belfry hid her muzzle behind her hoof, but everypony heard her snicker out loud.

A blood vessel popped on Twilight’s neck. She whirled on the laughing mare. “You shut up or I assign you to Edward permanently.”

She shut up. And Edward scowled, bizarrely annoyed and relieved at the same time.

Bronze Chainmail coughed. Tempered Steel stared. Attention Span fidgeted. After another few seconds, the young guard decided that Pierre could use some help, and he crossed the distance, putting the melting pot of tension between Twilight, Edward and their escort behind. 

“Smart colt,” grumbled Chainmail.

Sparks fizzled at the tip of Twilight’s horn. She dragged her hoof over her chest, inhale, then let go of her breath slowly. And yet, when she glared at Edward again, strands of her mane remained frazzled, electrified. “This… this is just the first evening! You’ll see, Edward! By the end of this visit, you will understand!”

Without waiting for a reply, she trotted past Edward to join the rest of the bicorns, uncaring of Edward’s heated words following her.

“Oh, somepony will understand alright. But I don’t think you’ll be too happy when it happens.”

Fortune’s grandmother laughed.

Pierre’s belated cry of “FREEDOM” was all the warnings Edward received before the little monsters pounced for his blood. 

Perhaps they sensed that he was not as fragile as his companion, perhaps they had an instinctive understanding that he would not tolerate it. Or maybe they were listening to their mothers who were telling them to behave. That order, they only half obeyed. Instead of physical contact, they used a far more insidious weapon.

Questions. Who was he? Why was he here? Was he going to marry their sisters? Was he going to marry the six years-old filly that thought he looked pretty? Was he going to play with them? 

Edward felt the years being shaved off his lifespan every time they opened their possessed little mouths. And, seeing Pierre being helped up to his hooves by their father whilst he was being swarmed, he grew deeply envious. Not that he would ever admit it. 

“I am in your debt, sir,” Pierre chuckled, firmly grasping Evocator’s offered hoof. “Your kids are a bit too energetic for me.”

“Better get used to it, colt,” he said with a sly grin. “You’re gonna have to deal with their kind on a daily basis soon enough.”

Pierre’s smile froze around the edges. Seeing the unshakable conviction in the stallion’s eyes rattled him far more than Twilight’s imperatives ever had. There was something knowing behind the casual tone. 

“I dunno, sir,” Attention Span said, to both bicorns’ surprises. “Edward and him aren’t family-crazy like most bicorns.”

“Hmmm? You’re thinking of the donation centers then?” Evocator asked, seizing Pierre. 

“No.” His voice was stone-like. “I don’t like that idea either. I’m not comfortable thinking there could be children of my blood out there that I’d never meet. That’s just not me.”

Evocator’s lips tugged upward. He seemed more at ease. As if Pierre had passed some sort of test. “Would you like to stay for dinner? A few extra mouths to feed make no difference to us.”

“Oh,” Pierre blinked owlishly, glancing back to Edward, still scowling in the midst of the foals, and then their bodyguards. “We couldn’t accept… This is far too much work out of the blue.”

“Actually, that would be lovely. We would be honoured to accept.” Twilight nodded, then levitated a quill and notepad from her saddlebags. “Rest assured that I will add a compensation on your next stipends. Seven adults is no small addition.” She seemed to consider that. “Bronze Chainmail, Attention Span, you two will be on grocery duty, under the directions of… well, which one of you will be in charge of cooking?”

Presage smiled softly. “That would be me, tonight. If there’s any one of you that feel like helping with the cooking itself, I’m not saying no. ”

Pierre raised his hoof. “I’m a bit of a klutz in the kitchen, but I am not a terrible cook.”

“Better than terrible,” the mare said, nodding toward a blushing Omens. “Come on then, follow me. You too, Fortune, you brought them, you are going to help feed them.”

Fortune nodded and shot a small smile at Pierre, mouthing ‘thanks’ at him. Gently, she grabbed his hoof and led him away from the cluster of ponies in the living room, into a kitchen with two ovens and a selection of cutlery that would make a chef grin. Half of them were laid out on the counter, shining in the last rays of sunlight of the afternoon, polished by Fortune’s little sister.

“Faith,” Presage cut in before the first word had even left her mouth, “start setting up the tables in the living room. We will be hosting dinner for the Princess. Twenty two covers.”

The teenager seemed to know when she was fighting a losing battle and pouted. She trotted past them with little fanfare, blushing as she left, her eyes lingering on Pierre’s face.

“Alright, Fortune, start peeling and washing the corn. Pierre, you’re in charge of the beans. Don’t be stingy with the portions. We’re cooking for twenty two ponies.”

Pierre let out a low whistle even as he trotted up to the counter where the greens lay. “I’m not sure my extended family is that big.”

“Twelve foals is not a large number for a four ponies herd,” said Presage.

“Oh, I’m an only child. I’ve got one aunt on my father’s side and two uncles on my mother’s. Three cousins. Two living grandparents.”

Presage’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Lucky Foal then?” she asked, her voice light. 

The urge to sigh rose within him. Here and now, waddling around a kitchen with two nice person, he didn’t want to explain and sound like a madman. “No. I’m not even sure what that is, but I am certain that I wouldn’t be one.”

“He’s not from Equestria, Auntie,” Fortune chimed in. 

For a few seconds, the cyan mare merely shuffled around the clean vegetables on the counter, hooves on a knife. “I see,” she said flatly. “I suppose that would explain it. It must have been a relief to finally cross the borders.”

Of the many, many words Pierre would use, ‘relief’ was so far down the list it was sad for a brony. He snorted, muzzle scrunched up, and accidentally crushed a handful of beans. He cursed in French under his breath, then stared at his useless, slightly gooey hooves. 

Wordlessly, Presage handed him a bowl of washed up lettuce leaves topped with a mound of dressing and two large wooden spoons. Well, he thought, I shouldn’t be able to mess that up. And to his pleasure, he didn’t. It was even a bit amusing, seeing the leaves fly and fall down under his own power. Without realizing it, he had tuned out Fortune and her herd-mother’s voices.

Until Fortune settled next to him on the counter, crushing squash under a masher..

“So,” she trailed off, “where are you all going to stay tonight then?”

Pierre’s hooves slowed, some leaves sticking to the spoons.

“I’m not sure actually. Knowing Twilight, she definitely has something planned, but it’s not like she’s sharing with the class.”

For all he knew, they were going to sleep outside to ‘straighten them out’ or such nonsense. Maybe try to guilt them into appreciating all the nice money she shoved in their faces. 

“You could stay here...” Fortune whispered.  

He nearly dropped the spoons into the bowl. Wide-eyed, he stared back at her as Presage cleared her throat. 

Fortune turned red, but stayed resolute. “Well, Daydream and Estray left their beds in my room, didn’t they?”

“Sweetie, do try to remember that you also share your room with three impressionable foals. I am not giving them the Talk tomorrow morning. Is that clear?”

It took a second to register. And then they were both speaking frantically. 

“Auntie! We’re not like this, I swear!”

“Madam, I can promise you that we do not see each other this way, and even if we did, nothing would happen in front of your foals and my friend. I’d be too embarrassed to even… ”

Mouth, insert foot. Deeply.

Presage laughed as if it had been startled out of her. “I think I can see why Fortune likes having you around. Fine, Fortune, go tell your mothers and your father, and don’t forget to ask the Princess. She gets the final say on this.”

Pierre somehow refrained from rolling his eyes. Quite opposite to what the bicorn mare might think, he had a feeling Twilight Sparkle would be delighted. 

> Brebis Comptées
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The sound of their hooves striking the dirt was the only one for miles. A disquieting stillness floated in the air, an unnamed tension that followed the procession of unicorns, pegasi and earth ponies following them both. Celestia kept her gaze resolutely forward. Past a patch of dying trees, she could make out the habitations they had been searching for the last three days. 

Luna’s first thought had been to dispatch a company of pegasi to accompany them in the air as they searched for the camps that were rumored to exist near the Gray Meadow. Celestia had nearly agreed, if only for efficiency’s sake. But there had been storms in the eyes of their unicorn and earth pony attendants. So soon after Unification, they could not afford to show favor to any one tribe, regardless of practical advantages. 

Luna had spoken against such a decision at great lengths, but only in private. Together, they presented a united front. Just as they meant to do today.

As the shape of the houses became clearer, she slowed, and her sister matched the pace. 

“You will speak no word lest you be authorized by myself or mine sister,” Luna commanded.  “You shall threaten none that do not clearly threaten us first, and only as a last resort. Are we understood?”

Most guards replied with a quick shout, the rest with a nod. 

Good thinking, sister. The thought had escaped Celestia’s mind. Too many worries had distracted her. The ones they had been bidden to seek would be near, but this was precisely the time to keep a tight leash on their soldiers. Back at the castle, any pony that had let slip even a glimpse of hatred had been left discarded, with a word to their direct superior to give them some suitable punishment. 

The persecution of ponies. A madness in another name. They spoke of it still in the outskirts. Far from the reach of either alicorn’s wings, ponies whispered of bicorns with a hatred that turned her stomach. 

Satisfied with their escorts’ reaction, Luna turned her gaze to Celestia. “I believe we are as ready as we might be.” I hope you know what you’re doing.

Celestia swallowed. This was it. One of the last elements of their mentor’s legacy. The hiding tribe. Ponies that had suddenly appeared during the era of Discord, and had failed to leave once the mad spirit had been vanquished. 

Straightening, she led the procession into the edges of the village. Her eyes darted around in search for signs of life, any. Yet amongst the dust and the shadows, none seemed to live here. Every house had its hinges wide open, every window barricaded. 

Warmth seeped into her left side as her sister closed in, a troubled look to her eyes. And something more, recognition.

Rumours spoke of two-horned ponies moving in the corner of one’s eyes, of towns that sprouted in the middle of nowhere, that nopony ever occupied. 

“I suspect they have… an intuition, of a sort, Celestia,” came the echoes of her old teacher’s gruff voice. “They can avoid being found, if they do not wish it.” 

At the very least, their reports had not been mistaken. This was a bicorn village, or had been, if they were unlucky. 

“They steal your fate!” she remembered hearing. “My neighbour met one, and he fell in a ditch whilst the goathead was completely unharmed!”

“They are his children! They live in the ruins of his kingdom!”

Everypony lived in the ruins of Discord’s kingdom. Everypony, but only one tribe seemed blamed for it. That was what they had come to stop. 

The faint whispers of her guards faded entirely. Dead silence suddenly surrounded her. 

There was a pony waiting for them. One lone, greying pony sitting on the porches of a slightly larger home, looking at the royal escorts with heavy resignation. He stretched, rolled his shoulders, muttering something the wind stole away, and trotted forward. 

The stallion took his time, or couldn’t make it any faster, but Celestia took the time to assess him. Thinner than any pony in her group by far, but not without a certain poise. A few wrinkles had begun to dig around his copper eyes, right into the brown of his fur. He held his head high, despite the energy she saw it demanded of him. His horns twirled from his head, like a twisted crown. 

When he arrived to their level, and only then, he inclined his head. 

Celestia felt the hair on the back of her neck rise. 

Her sister caught her left front hoof and squeezed. “Tia...” she sounded faintly sick, worried.

“I know, Luna.”

Of course she did. What other power would make her wings shake? What other power would have her mind flash back to the rains of elephants and the jellified weapons? 

It had a name, and for a heartsplitting second, she was almost unable to think it. 

Chaos. 

His work. His last joke on the world of ponies. 

For but the span of a heartbeat, both sisters understood why ponies had taken to calling the bicorns ‘Chaos spawns’. 

“Are you the leader of this village?” she asked, and cursed the unsteadiness of her voice. 

“For a given value of ‘leader’,” he replied. “I am the oldest surviving pony around. That means something to us bicorns. I am thus the elder of our herd. Oh, don’t bother searching,” he added to the guards spreading around. “They have all left. But they might return if I tell them.”

Luna’s frown was all too visible. “We see.”

The elder half-turned to her, but didn’t quite take his eyes off Celestia. “They say there was a coronation ceremony in the midlands. They say they crowned two mares with attributes of all pony tribes. They sing the name of Discord’s slayers.”

They had sung. Now they bemoaned the idea of taxes and a unified government that didn’t look at tribes first. 

Luna’s wings bristled. “They speak wrongly.”

“Oh?”

Celestia nodded. “My sister and I are alicorns. We embody the aspects of unicorns, pegasi and earth ponies. But that is not all pony tribes.”

“Nothing of our coats glitter as do those of crystal ponies in the far north. Our wings are of feathers, not leather like those of thestrals in the deep caverns. And on our heads, there is but one horn unlike every bicorn in this camp.”

“We do not forget those that are different from us, elder. There are six pony tribes, not three.”

And she knew, some of their guards had bristled. Though her gaze had not left the olden bicorn, she could see the flicker of her sister’s, and the same anger that Celestia felt within. They had not fought for some ponies! Harmony was not for some ponies!

“We are the princesses of all ponies,” she put on the word the emphasis of a rebuke, and she heard a minute clink of armours when some of their escorts flinched. The elder, on the other hoof, showed a hint of a smirk, as if he had caught her meaning. “We shall do whatever it takes to help you.”

The elder’s smirk slid off, and something else entered his gaze. “Yes, you will.”


--


Pierre fell more than he sat down on his cushion. His hooves and his jaw ached, but it was a good ache. The kind one got from effort, real work. And this time, a small kindle of pride remained lit in his chest as he saw plates of steaming vegetables be distributed around the table. 

Contrarily to human children, the little ones here cheered at the sights of the vegetable dishes placed in front of them. They squirmed a bit in place, following Presage’s progress around the dinner table. Pierre was willing to bet that as soon as the last pony was served, they’d dive in. 

“...And of course, our guests,” said Presage as she passed the last plate around. “Eat up, everypony. A loving meal, prepared with some unexpected help.”

Pierre blushed and grinned at the same time. Nopony waited any longer to sample the dish. 

The first comment came in within seconds. “This is delicious! I’ve never had it before. What is it?”

“Oh, Princess, you flatter us,” Presage said with a faint flush to her cheeks. “I’m certain you’ve had much better in the palace.”

“I’ve rarely eaten in the palace, actually,” Twilight replied. “I have had a taste of the Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns’s cafeteria food however. Not quite the same thing as this. I’d guarantee there would be a much bigger turnout if this were served there. Do you mind if I ask the recipe? Pinkie Pie would love to try this.” 

“It’s only a Three Sisters ratatouille. Squash, corn and green beans. Of course, there are other vegetables, but those are the most important ones.”

Pierre looked up from his plate, curiosity ticked. “Why? I mean, I had noticed when we were cooking, but what makes them more important?”

“Oh, I read about that in an history book once,” Twilight cut in, eerily close to her usual self. “The Three Sisters are a tradition from before the true unification, aren’t they?”

Presage nodded, serving another helping to one of her daughters. “Indeed. Those three were always planted together. Each plant mutually benefits the other two. They’re well-suited to be grown without any earth pony magic. It’s one of the oldest bicorn dishes we have left.”

“This is so fascinating,” murmured Twilight, poking the various vegetables with her forks, almost afraid to eat them. “It’s like being served a piece of history on a plate.”

“Well, I wouldn’t go that far, Princess,” Presage said. “It is only a traditional bicorn dish. Nothing too special.”

Edward swallowed a mouthful and smirked. “No, no. The princess is right. It is good that bicorns remember the times of their independance.”

Twilight’s gaze grew frosty. 

Around the dinner table, the older bicorns fell quiet. A charged look passed between Evocator and Presage. Omens waddled her way out of the dining hall carrying the plates, followed by Faith. Fortune’s grandmother, for her part, munched on her ratatouille with an amused smile. 

“It’s your culture too, Edward, Pierre,” Evocator said emphatically. “Even if you were not born in Equestria, you two are bicorns, and our species has a history of being torn apart by circumstance. We should celebrate when it brings us together.”

Under the table, Fortune’s hoof briefly brushed against Pierre’s. Perhaps as nothing more than a reminder, a show of support for him. For as soon as it started, the contact ended, its warmth lingering a second too long, and it was hard to take his eyes off Fortune. 

But thinking of Twilight Sparkle at the dinner table, probably thinking of new ways to ‘convince’ him and Edward of the good of her crusade… that motivated him well enough. He had told Rarity, and he could tell himself again. Only if it’s our choice. 

“Are you going to be our new big brother?”

Pierre choked on his sip of water. 

“Ace!” came the chastising voice of Presage. The mare had turned on a warning glare to the colt that had spoken.

The foal was quick to point a dark green hoof toward the filly on his left. “But Cornucopia said he was!”

On Ace’s left, a pale orange filly scowled at him. “Did not!”

“Did too! You said Fortune was gonna marry him and have lots of babies with him.”

Pierre choked again. 

“Swords Ace,” rumbled Evocator’s voice. “You are embarrassing our guests. Apologize.”

“But that’s not embarrassing stuff!” the colt protested. “You and mommy and aunties talk about babies all the time!”

Good Omens stopped circling the table, depositing a plate of steaming vegetables between the salad and the tomatoes. “Ace. Look at our guest.” She gestured in Pierre’s direction. “He’s fidgeting and his ears are low. He is embarrassed, and that’s what’s important. Not if your aunties and I are fine talking about it.”

The colt shrunk in his seat. “Sorry.”

“It’s… it’s okay,” Pierre said, praying that none saw how deeply he was blushing under his fur. “That’s a difficult question to answer right now. Your sister and I are just friends right now.”

Ace’s face scrunched up, his head tilted to the side as if seeing something strange. “Oh, okay.”

There was a momentary lull in the conversations. Most ponies simply went back to eating, Bronze Chainmail and Attention Span amongst that number. The two guards, seated next to Twilight, ate their fills without many comments, though the younger of the two looked quite curious about his surroundings. 

In the end however, it was a filly’s voice that broke the silence. “Say, Daddy, when are we going to see Estray and Daydreams again?”

And cast it again on her parents. Evocator and Presage exchanged uneasy looks, whilst Good Omens made herself busy with giving out second helpings to ponies all around the table. 

Presage cleared her throat. “Cornucopia… your brothers are very busy in Brighton and Hooves. Their wives have just gotten pregnant again.”

Ace’s pout only grew bigger. “What’s that got to do with coming to see us?” 

Evocator chuckled under his hooves, pointedly ignoring the death glare Good Omens sent his way. “Son, you will understand when you’re married. Husbands have to take good care of their wives, especially when they’re pregnant.”

Good Omens picked up an empty bowl in the middle of the table, still pointedly glaring at her husband. “Least you can do.”

“So we can’t go until Mommy’s not preg… pregm… till she doesn’t have a baby in her tummy?”

This time, Omens looked distinctly uncomfortable. “Sweetie, it’s not just that. The train rides is…”

And the former humans could recognize the emotions flickering on the mare’s face, through her blush and shifting eyes. 

Shame. Annoyance. Guilt.

Edward and Pierre needed not be detectives to know that train tickets for the whole family must have been out of their price ranges. Even leaving some ponies behind, it would be exorbitant. Twenty or so tickets? And they would not even begin to think on the accommodations. 

“Maybe when your nieces or nephews are born,” said Presage with an unsteady smile. 

The brother and sister did not insist, but by the look on their faces, they were fairly unpleased by this development. Afterwards, Span attempted to pick up the conversation, mostly orientating toward small talk. And though Twilight and the adult bicorns tried, nopony seemed particularly invested. To be fair, neither were Edward and Pierre, or the foals. 

Pierre mostly focused on the plate of ratatouille, having a harder time swallowing the vegetables now that he had been reminded of his hosts’ financial situation. He cast a glare in Twilight’s direction. She had to have known, if only intellectually. And by what he knew, none of Fortune’s parents could actually get a job to ease up on their troubles. 

On his right, Fortune shifted in her seat. She had stopped eating, her lips pinched. 

“Hey,” he whispered, “Fortune, are you okay?”

She startled as if she had been caught red-handed in something blatantly illegal, and plastered a smile on her face. “Y-yeah, I'm alright, Pierre. Don’t worry.” 

Easier said than done… Still, around the dinner table likely wasn’t the right place to speak of such matters. Not in front of her younger siblings, he suspected. With a sigh, he finished off the last of his squash. The chatters around him grew a little, but he didn’t really listen. 

He did however see Edward turn to the end of the table, where the eldest mare grumbled into her soup. “Something troubling you, venerable one?”

“Oh, I think you already know, colt.” Her near toothless mouth twisted into a wry smile. “Your honeyed charms ain’t good enough to pull the wool o’er my eyes. But I find you funny. Clear-sighted at that.” She chuckled low. “Oh, yes, clear-sighted.”

She nodded toward Pierre, and Ed turned to look back with an unimpressed glare. Well, Pierre shrugged, it wasn’t his fault they were loud. 

Slowly, the dinner came to a halt, Omens, Presage and Evocator picking up the plates around the table, and gently shooing anypony done so the ones still waiting could have a turn. Neither Pierre or Edward begrudged them for that. Their insistence to help with the dishes were met with firm refusal. 

“You are our guests,” Presage said, “and you’ve already helped with preparing the food.”

“Well, you have welcomed us into your home so kindly,” Twilight cut in, “we could not in good conscience simply add this to your workload. Private Span, Corporal Chainmail, you two are in charge of cleaning.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” they said together before they began trotting toward the kitchen. 

Omens followed them with her eyes, a very small wrinkle above her brows. “Ah, allow me. I’ll show you the way.”

“Thank you, Ma’am,” Attention Span said, inclining his head a bit as they disappeared inside the kitchen.

“Now that this is being taken care of,” Twilight went on, turning her attention to Evocator. “I would like to discuss my friends’ arrangement with you. We had a few things planned for, and 
I would like to make sure nothing will go wrong.”

Fortune’s parents exchanged looks.

“Of course,” Starry Eyes said politely. “I suggest we go back to the dining room. It’ll be easier to work.”

And they were gone. 

For a second, nopony quite knew what to say, so the foals did as they did best, avoid boredom and complicated situations. Most slipped out toward the living room.

“Now,” Twilight started, capturing everypony’s attention once more, “while I would love to spend most of the evening talking with you all, I did promise the chief to meet with him today.”

“We understand, Princess,” Evocator assured her. “I suppose we will see you all tomorrow then?”

“Dear,” Presage cut in, “Fortune suggested that we give Estray’s and Daydreams’ beds to Edward and Pierre.”

Good Faith giggled and waggled her eyebrows at her older sister. Said older sister retaliated with a hoof to the back of the head. 

Evocator briefly looked at his daughters. “Well, it’s not as if they are being used by anypony else. If that’s fine with them and the princess...”

Edward and Pierre rolled their eyes.

“Most certainly! I’d say this is ideal, actually. This is probably as authentic an experience as it gets. Edward and Pierre would get the most of this, I think.”

Big surprise there. 

It was thus agreed. It probably beat being shoved in some small military beds somewhere. At least, here they knew the owners somewhat. And, cherry on top, Twilight only left Tempered Steel to watch over them throughout the night. She and the other guards went to meet the reserves’ chief.

Pierre was contemplating their luck when Swords Ace yawned wide and loud. 

“Almost ready for bed, huh?” he grinned. 

“Wha...? No!” The colt looked panicked. “I’m not tired. Who’s tired? Maybe Cornucopia or Coin, but I’m good. I don’t need to go to bed now.”

His bright wide smile both incited his siblings to imitate him and failed to convince any of the adults around him. 

“Well, son,” said Evocator, “our guests have had a long day, and you and your siblings have school tomorrow. So, I’d say this is bedtime.”

Predictably, a chorus of groans and moans erupted in reply to this. 

“Now, now, don’t be difficult,” Starry Eyes told the foals as he began herding them toward the stairs. “You don’t want to look bad in front of our guests, do you?”

“But Mooooom...” whined Cornucopia, to no avail. She was ruthlessly directed upstairs. 

“Don’t worry, sweetie,” Good Omens added. “The grown-ups will be going to bed too.” With a gentle hoof over her distended belly. “Your littlest brother is sleepy too.”

“Oh,” Fortune said, turning to them as she realized something, “Pierre, Edward, allow me. I’ll show you where you can sleep tonight.”

“Which won’t be in the same room as you, young lady,” Evocator mentioned in passing, but not without a very serious warning. 

Pierre felt his ears flatten on top of his head while Ed poorly concealed a snort under a bout of coughing. His glare also failed to affect his ‘friend’. What was his life? 

“I know, I know,” Fortune bemoaned. Then, quieter, “I swear, they all think I am only waiting for the right occasion to start rebelling.”

He tried not to imagine that, but the image was too good not to think about. With a sly grin, he leaned in closer. “Are you?” he whispered, pretending to glance around for guards or parents. “Wanna rebel together?”

She snorted. “Not you too.”

“And you two will deny flirting after subjecting me to this travesty?”

They straightened as if someone had replaced their spines with steel bars. Identical blushes covered their faces, though a scowl accompanied Pierre’s. 

Edward’s unimpressed stare dared him to contradict his statement. 

Flustered, Fortune grabbed both stallions and turned them toward the stairs. “Ah, right, sorry. The bedrooms. I’ll show you.”

They did not trip on any of the stairs, owing it to some miracle. At the speed Fortune had pulled them up, they both expected to trip on their legs or the edge of a step. Rather, they made it safe and sound to the top floor, foals zigzagging between their legs. Fortune found it endearing in a ‘yup, that’s my family’ way. Edward? Judging by his scowl, he seemed to wish he could hug them, or more precisely, their throats. Tightly.

“So, the bathrooms are to your right, over there,” -- she pointed to the end of the hallway -- “or on your left, over there,” -- she motioned to the other end -- “or there’s one downstairs, the first door on your right, just next to the living room. I suggest not waiting at the last moment to go. There is quite the traffic jam there in the morning. And that’s without considering the bathroom exclusive to my parents.”

“I can imagine, yeah,” Pierre said, chuckling. “With that many kids... ”

She gave him a light-hearted, knowing look. “We manage. Mostly.”

“I don’t doubt it.” His laugh grew fainter, and the smile on his face faded. For a second, a he fiddled, words coming and leaving him in the same second. He wanted to tell her something. He felt as if he ought to. But, in the end, he just cleared his throat. “Well... Good night, Fortune.”

She leaned in. 

“Good night, Pierre.” 

Only for a soft nuzzle against his cheek. Then she was gone, into the room with most of her little sisters.

Pierre’s hoof rose to touch the spot on his face. Heat lingered, but he could not tell if it was from her touch or his own blushing. Ha! He might as well give up all pretending. He was disappointed. He would have kissed her. 

Sighing in both frustration and longing, he entered the bedroom after Edward. He plainly refused to look at his friend. There had to be a smirk on his face by now, if not a full-blown judgemental stare. 

At least, the bedroom was nice enough. Two pairs of bunk beds, both comfortable if old-looking, with just enough space for two adult ponies to stand side-by-side between the beds. Wordlessly, he picked on the closest one and dropped on his back. 

“Hey!”

A little dark green head peeked down from the top bed. That was fine. Pierre didn’t need that year of his life. He could do with more frights and jumpscares. 

“Are you suuure you’re not going to be our new big brother?” Ace asked, frowning in suspicion.

Ed snorted, settling down on his cot and smirking at Pierre. “He’s French. It’s probably just lust.”

“Lust?” repeated the colt. 

A pillow hit Ed right in the face. 

“Ignore him, Ace. He says crazy things, like rugby being better than football and British cuisine being creative.” Pierre ruffled the colt’s mane. “And yes, I’m sure. I simply think your big sister is a nice pony. And you should be courteous to nice ponies.”

Edward devolved into pure snickering. They did not fall asleep quickly. 


--


Edward was galloping alongside an endless wall. He knew there was an end somewhere. He just had to find it. 

His hooves slipped on sprawled newspapers, on clipped articles showing a bicorn stallion with a winning grin and a shining golden coat. Ponies were speaking. Chattering. The same words. Clear-sighted. He sat at the bottom of a hill, watching as statues with two horns littered the path up to the castle on the mountain. A filly buried under kitchen knives. Clear-sighted, he heard again, an old mare cackling. The statues had familiar faces. Bicorns he had known, if even briefly. Littering the path. Gravel pouring out of their scars. 

Batwings, swooping down to lift him up the ground. 

Clear-sighted. 

The wings could break if he touched them. They were brittle things, like bird bones, like paper left to dry. Neglected through the years, rapidly approaching their breaking point.

The mountain side grew rapidly, rushing to meet them and break them upon its cliffsides. He pawed frantically at the wings, his struggling only making the hold tighten. 

“Stop!”

A passage opened in the rock, like the maws of a monster, like the doors of a cell. 

The dark.

Edward awoke with a gasp. 

The first sight his eyes took in was that of a bleak, bland grey ceiling. In the corner of his eyes, a half-open shutter let filter a handful of rays of sunshine, like the bars of a prison cell. His breathing slowed down as his mind caught up with Reality. 

Fur clung to his skin. Wet, sweaty fur. A shudder of disgust ran down his spine. To think he would need to get used to this.... Well, only until they found some solution to this infernal predicament. Speaking of personal hells...

No hellish spawn remained in the beds, ready to swarm him the very second he kept his eyes open. He could graciously thank whatever guardian angel he had for this respite. And reaffirm to himself that he would never have this many children. Not even if the fate of the world hinged on it. 

He’d say “we had a good run” and then die. 

Sighing, he rolled himself out of bed, landing on four legs like any common animal. With a creak of bones and joints, he took the first few steps out of bed. And more or less ended next to another. The room, by virtue of necessity, hosted as many as six, thus space was sparse. 

Pierre’s body remained unmoving, save for a flick of his tail and a slight shift of his front legs. A thin trail of drool dripped on the pillow. Edward had to roll his eyes at that, such a typical sight. 

Contemplating the unintelligent lifeform splayed over the bedsheets, the much smarter Brit allowed himself a smirk. The snail-slurper had clearly gotten too comfortable if he could sleep soundly in the same room as Ed. 

It wasn’t really a buck. Ed had been raised on good manners, thus he wouldn’t dent the furnitures of his gracious hosts. Especially considering their likely restrained budget. 

It was more of a kick, just hard enough to send Pierre catapulting himself awake out of bed. And falling on his back. 

“I will murder you, Ed...” groaned the maroon bicorn kissing the floor. 

“Promises,” Edward crooned as he left the room. 

Though unfamiliar with the layout, he knew enough to climb down the stairs and follow his nose. There had to be at least one good side to their furry transformation, right? Fresh, forgetting his nightmare rather easily, he trotted inside the dining room. His supposed instinct failed to warn him.

Breakfast was no trivial matter when there were easily eight foals under the age of ten demanding food. A small miracle could be declared when only four of those little furballs could be seen around the table, whilst two adult bicorns sat at the table and a third walked around carrying plates of food. Of course, the picture was marred by the presence of certain guards and a certain princess. 

A few heads turned at his entrance. “Ah, Edward,” greeted Evocator with a warm voice. “Come join us. We are the last ones to eat this morning. The rest are spread across the house with Starry Eyes and Faith watching over them.”

“Much obliged,” he said, inclining his head. 

In the corner of his eyes, he caught sight of Twilight glaring in annoyance. But what did she expect? For him to be rude at the people offering him a place at their table without asking him to breed in return? Yeah, he would have to hammer that part down later, if she truly wondered. 

Small talk began anew around the table, the topics of which Edward did not quite listen to. Good Omens, if he remembered the pregnant mare’s name right, had just placed a bowl of food in front of him. Swallowing back his annoyance at his lack of fingers, he started attacking the pastries and boiled eggs with good appetite. 

Minutes later, Pierre entered the dining room, eyes almost shut, mane dishevelled. Slowly, he dragged himself to an empty cushion next to Edward. 

“If you’ll give me thirty seconds to stop sleepwalking, I’ll give you a hand.”

In return for his generous offer, all he received were blank looks. 

“Hoof. I’ll help,” he groaned, resting his forehead against the cool wooden table. “Do you have any coffee?”

Now, Pierre was tired, supremely so, but not enough not to feel the unease suddenly filling the air. Not knowing what kind of faux-pas he had done, he hazarded a look up, only to see Starry Eyes and Evocator blinking back their shock. 

“Foreigners,” Presage told her herdmates, and they instantly settled. 

Evocator even facehoofed. “Can’t believe we didn’t think of that.”

“Coffee can have negative impacts on your health, Pierre. It’s not even sold in the reserve,” Presage patiently explained. “We do however have a lot of tea.”

Since he had been raised to be always polite to his hosts, Pierre did not suddenly devolve into cursing, but it was a close thing. Instead, he buried his face in his hooves again, and groaned in despair. “Because why not suck the joy out of every possible aspect of my life?”

On his left, Edward picked up a cup of tea, nicely steaming, and savored it all the more, knowing of his friend’s woes. Adding a spoon of perfectly serviceable scrambled eggs and tomatoes to his plate, the day was off to a decent enough start. 

“Here, Clairvoyance,” said Good Omens as she put down a plate in front of the her mother-in-law.

When had she sat down? Pierre’s early troubles must have distracted him at the wrong time. “Ah, good morning, venerable elder,” Ed greeted. “I hope your night was restful.”

The old mare chuckled in her oatmeal. “Haven’t lost the silver tongue yet, have you?”

“I would be remiss. We have little else here. Naught but our words and our minds.” With a smirk, he pointed at his friend. “And since it’s Pierre we’re talking about… well, let’s go with one mind and two mouths.”

“Va te faire enculé avec une tronçonneuse,” Pierre grumbled. 

He failed to notice Fortune’s curious look, his muzzle hovering too close to his plate. 

“Prench,” said Clairvoyance, mildly amused. “Where did you say you were from again?”

“We didn’t.” Ed took another sip of his cuppa. For all their faults, those ponies could brew some mean tea. “Not that anyone thought it was particularly important before imprisoning us.”

Something sharp shone in the old mare’s eyes. “You. You aren’t from around these parts at all.”

Ed cast a curious gaze on her, lips near posed to drink. “I believe that’s what I said, venerable one.”

She shook her head. “No, not Prance, not even further East. You’re not from anywhere near here. So where from?”

The span of an heartbeat, Edward stared. Then, composing himself, he placed his cup down with a gentle clink of porcelain on wood. Nopony was paying them any mind, it seemed. Twilight and the guards were in deep conversation with Evocator and Starry Eyes at the ends of the table, and Good Omens was serving her foals one last helping, or getting one foal out of their seat. 

“Your wisdom amazes me. We’ve been telling Princess Lightshow for a week or so and yet you realized it without even asking.”

Clairvoyance turned her head slightly, her gaze flicking away from Edward. Down the table, Twilight Sparkle was enthusiastically noting down every word out of her son’s mouth.    

“She seems the listening type,” she commented without intonation. 

“‘Seems’ is an apt choice of word,” Ed grunted. “She has very selective ears.”

A clutter of plates in the sink crashed so loudly all the heads around the table turned. Toward one Good Faith so excited she almost looked like she was vibrating. “Aunties? Dad? I’m done with the dishes, Mom has got most of the brood ready for school. Can I go with Mom now?”

Ed’s eyebrows rose as Faith’s grandmother facehoofed. “That silly filly… Can’t even look grim for her own execution...”

Good Omens’ expression softened considerably. Without paying any mind to her mother-in-law, the pregnant mare softly brushed aside her herd daughter’s fringe to the side. “Yes, you can go. But you have to stay with your mother. Not run ahead like last time. You’re just turning sixteen, that’s still young.”

“Not that young, auntie,” Faith said with a sly smile. “I could totally get there on my own.”

Good Omens let out a little chuckle. “You could, but you still need Presage’s signature on the forms.” 

“If you would be so kind as to let us come, I would be extremely grateful. I feel this could help Edward and Pierre appreciate just how important it is to bicorns as a whole.”

Ed’s cup winced under his grip. 

“I believe we already got the point when they forced it on us during our hospital stay,” he ground out. 

“Obviously not, since you are here now.”

Ed’s cup clattered on the table. It was the polite option. He wouldn’t have wanted his gracious hosts to have to pick up shards. 

Somepony cleared their throat.

“I… I don’t mind.” Faith blushed, her previously excited smile more of a grimace. “If it helps, sure. I just want to be finally declared fit. That’s all.”

Her parents jumped on the line like a lifeline. 

“And you will be. It’s your last one. Afterward, you’ll be considered a grown mare.” Evocator moved to hug her. “Happy birthday, Faith.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

More well-wishes were exchanged on the topic afterward, but Edward could not stay long enough to hear them. He stomped his way to the front door, unsurprised to see Tempered Steel waiting. The thestral said nothing at his arrival, just offering the slightest nod of acknowledgement. No more than he gave the rest, minutes later. 

The trip to the reserve’s hospital was particularly uneventful. Most streets were still near empty at this hour, the air of a lazy day hanging over the rows of houses. Some foals were trotting behind their parents, saddlebags full of books and pencils, distinctively lacking in enthusiasm. 

The sight made Ed chuckle. At least, some things never changed. 

The hospital itself reminded him of their trip to the emergency room in Ponyville. As sterile in smell and personality as any other, a bored looking secretary at the reception desk, and nurses trotting in and out of the entrance area. 

Presage and Good Faith led them to the second floor without any hesitation. The few nurses that stopped to notice them greeted the two mares. 

“Doctor Child Care is waiting for you,” said the last one. 

“Thank you,” replied Presage. 

As if that was their last cue, the bicorn mare stopped before a door, not even reading the name written on it before pushing it open. 

There, one doctor consulted a file, a quill floating just above the papers in a cloud of green magic. 

The unicorn mare smiled at the small troop. 

“Now, I had an appointment for a beautiful young mare called Good Faith.” She turned to the positively giddy teenager. “I’m guessing that’s you.”

“Like we haven’t done this every single time, Doctor Child Care!” Faith protested, a large grin on her face. “Come on, now, I can’t wait. I want to start filing in the forms.”

“Alright, alright.” The doctor raised a hoof to pacify the teenager. “Now, before we start, this is important. Do you wish for anypony here to leave? And I do mean, anypony. This is your medical care, nopony else’s. You have the final say here.”   

Suddenly timid, the teenager played with a loose strand of her mane, blushing. “No, no. It’s fine. Except maybe for the… you know… maybe just Mom for that part?”

Presage squeezed her hoof. Mother and daughter exchanged a look heavy with meaning, and a small smile. 

“That’s perfectly alright, Good Faith. You’re within your full rights here.” The mare picked up a clipboard. “Let’s start. Everypony else, please sit down.”

The exam, as it turned out, was a fairly standard thing. For the most part, the doctor asked questions about Good Faith’s health and feelings, noting down whatever was said and continuing to fill in the checklist. 

“Any discomfort lately? Trouble sleeping?”

Faith chuckled. “Well, I could not sleep yesterday knowing what was coming for today. Does that count?”

The doctor stared at her with a knowing smile, good-humoured. “Let’s put this down as a ‘no’ for now. Anything of note? How did your last estrus go?” 

Blushes lit up Faith’s, Twilight’s and Pierre’s faces alike. For once, the teenager couldn’t quite answer with her usual enthusiasm. In particular, her gaze darted to Pierre and Edward, and she ducked her head slightly. “Huh, well, y’know, the normal stuff.”

“Alright. If you’ll follow me in the sideroom, Good Faith, we’ll finish the examination. Your mother may come in, the rest of you wait here.”

Edward was fairly certain that even if they had been authorized, nopony would have wanted to. That last question had felt especially intrusive. He truly hope that this was merely a slip-up. The menstrual habits of starry-eyed teens were far from his list of things he needed to know. 

“This must be the physical examination,” said Twilight, humming falsely like she needed to fill in the silence at any cost. “It’s very standard procedure.”

Edward saw Pierre’s lips pinch. Oh yes, the Frenchie had definitely kept a bad memory of the standard procedure. He privately suspected that the doctors had taken revenge where they could for them being difficult patients. 

“You know, I’ve read somewhere that the Unluck Horn could have a basis similar to Horn Rot. Historians say Horn Rot already was somewhat spread before the Discordian era, so it’s possible.”

“But the symptoms are different enough that most biologists reject that theory. Of course, that is without taking into consideration the Mana Quality, though it fails to explain the wild power surge for Horn Rot.”

Twilight’s jaw fell. “W-where did you learn that?” 

Edward smirked. 

“Anyway!” Twilight composed herself. “If Mana Quality is taken into consideration, it does explain the difference. Bicorns’ magic is very distinct, and its degenerative symptoms would have to be different from regular unicorn magic.”

He was saved from coming up with a reply by the chime of the door to the doctor’s office. In, entered the doctor, Faith and her mother. 

“Thank you all for your patience. This was the last test.” Doctor Child Care rummaged through her files. “Yep, the very last. Now, I need to take some time to analyze all the data and complete the blood tests. Normally, the results will be available by sundown, so you may all leave and return by that time.”

Faith opened her mouth.

“And no, you can’t come around noon and decide that’s enough time for those tests to be finished,” the doctor warned with an indulgent smile. “The analysis takes at least six hours. And I need to interpret the results afterward. Now go, get some fresh air, stretch your legs. I don’t want to see you until sunset.” 

“See you at sunset then!”

“Thank you for receiving us, Doctor Child Care. It was very informative.”

“Please, Princess Twilight, it was an honour to receive you all.”

They left after that. It couldn’t have happened any sooner, from Ed’s perspective. What had Twilight hoped to accomplish with this? Seeing a silly girl answer questions and await eagerly for her right to breed had certainly not convinced them to put out. At least, they were out now, regrouped just a few meters away from the hospital’s doors.

With a kiss to the forehead, Presage sent her daughter on her way, watching fondly as the teenager hummed and skipped to school. For a few seconds, the mare forgot about the presence of the princess and her guests, an unguarded smile on her face. 

“Well, now that Faith has had her appointment, I do need to go to the market. I suppose I shall see you all at dinner tonight?” She glanced at Twilight and her notebook, then seemed to think better of it. “Unless you wish to accompany me to the marketplace?”

Twilight opened her mouth, but Edward cut in before she could speak.

“I am going to the library,” he said, eerily polite. “I want to know what entertainment exists for someone like us. The expression is ‘Bread and Circus’, oh dictator-in-training. I’ve seen the bread, now I want the circus. Gotta have some motivation not to kill myself.”

Presage and Pierre both cringed at his words. The rest of the escort did not look amused. 

“Edward, do not joke about this,” Twilight commanded, her tone as cold as a glacier. “This is a very serious issue. And no, you may not go to the library. You two need to see the school, that’s the next box on our checklist.” 

There were many things to say to that, but Pierre exchanged a look with him. He seemed to understand rather quickly. For once. 

“I’ll go to the school, he can visit the library. Cover more ground this way. Not like we lack the people to do both.” Pierre shrugged. “It’ll be more efficient.”

Edward very firmly hid his amusement as he watched Pierre’s word sink in Twilight’s mind. Her ears ticked, and she shot a desperate glance to her checklist. It must have been written down there somewhere. Knowing it must have made the decision all the harder. Would she give in to her natural instinct or would her need to control their thoughts prevail? 

“Let me rephrase,” Pierre said with a smug smirk, “do you want to force foals to be stuck with Edward?”

Normally, he would be offended by Twilight’s flinch, but he couldn’t truly deny it. He had never tried to pretend otherwise either. Kids were a plague unto his house, and the house of anyone that had not been smart enough to have protection. 

And nopony seemed to notice the subtle frown appearing on Presage’s face.

“On second thought, I’ll stay with Pierre and go to the school. Private Span, Corporal Chainmail, you are with me. Sergeant Steel, Corporal Belfry, with Edward. I’ll be the one to fetch you when we’re done.”

Huh. So the Frenchie was learning something after all. Interesting. 


--


Pierre fought the impression of déjàvu of being in such a hallway, trotting on carpeted floor, passing by lockers and doors, and under the mercy of an authority figure that had decided he was the bane of their existence. 

Granted, while his previous directors had also threatened him with a lifetime of unemployment, they hadn’t actually meant it as a lifegoal. Nor had they obliquely decided he would best serve society as a breeding stud. 

So, certain things were different, but the school itself? Yeah, that resembled his high school years. With much younger students though.

He paused, peeking through the door’s window. Before a large blackboard, a beige unicorn mare read from a book within her telekinetic grasp. The foals, most looking no older than ten, pretended to be listening. Even from where he stood, Pierre could see at least three foals playing or drawing in their notebooks instead of paying attention. 

Ah, maths, the ban of small children everywhere. And judging by the numbers on the board… 

Pierre did a double take. 

He turned to Twilight. “Budgeting? At their age?”

“What’s so unusual about that?” she asked absentmindedly, consulting her notes. “It’ll be a vital skill to learn later.”

“Certainly a useful skill to have, but I was still learning multiplications when I was that little.”

“So you did go to school?” Twilight said with some surprise. 

Hot air blew out of his nostrils. “Yes. I did.” Images of cups of coffee littering the unoccupied side of his desk flashed to his mind. The feeling of weight on his mind, on his eyelids, the frantic muttering while he paced with a book in hand. “Back home, in France. University. I was doing my master before getting tangled in this mess.”

“University is too stressful for bicorns.” 

As if that proved anything. For the first time perhaps, he regretted his choice of masters. He’d been told before. She wasn’t the first to question his knowledge. Those, he had gotten the habit of shutting up with well-placed references and lectures on Ancient History. 

But knowing the history of a different world might as well have been fiction. 

It didn’t make slapping her around less tempting though. 

“Oh, just shut up.” He rolled his eyes in disgust. “I haven’t slaved for years to be told it didn’t happen.”

Little twitches ran over her wings, and Twilight raised a hoof against her chest. After one deep inhale, she let it all out, in the exact motion he remembered Cadence teaching her. Her mouth moved silently, as if she was telling herself something, likely to remain calm or to ignore him.

“Classroom six. We’re here.”

The latter then. 

Pierre frowned. “Dare I ask what we’re ‘here’ for? I thought this was a visit of the school facility.”

“As it so happens, there is one class on the school’s program being taught today that I think you would benefit from hearing.”

Pierre’s eyes narrowed. Surprise enrollment, huh? Well, it wasn’t anything new or all that unexpected, though he couldn’t say he understood her game. He honestly doubted there was much time in a single morning, heck, even a single day, to change his mind about anything in the reserve. 

Unaware or uncaring of his thoughts, Twilight gently knocked on the door, wincing as she did, and with a flicker of magic, twisted the doorknob.

“Miss Hard Knocks?” she asked very politely. 

She tiptoed around the threshold, almost timid all of a sudden. To Pierre and the guards, the sight had something of a surreal quality. Not that the teacher noticed. 

“Oh, my, good morning, your Highness!” The pink mare bowed. 

Twilight’s sigh of relief was perfectly audible to Pierre’s ears. “Good morning, Miss Hard Knocks.” She stepped inside, practically being led by the teacher whose smile had not stopped growing. “Good morning, everypony.”

“Good morning!” answered twenty foals at the exact same time. 

“Now, foals, this is Princess Twilight Sparkle. We talked about her visit yesterday. Remember what we said about questions, alright?”

Most of them nodded, though a handful pouted at the same time. Obviously, the talk hadn’t been all positives. And judging by how starry-eyed the three fillies in the front row had gotten, he could guess why. 

“Perhaps you would like to introduce yourself?” the teacher said, taking a step back. 

Twilight’s warning glare was crystal clear. Pierre felt rather insulted by that. He might admit that it was tempting to see the chaos, but he didn’t have the heart. 

If he was Edward and cared not for the continued emotional health of schoolchildren… 

“Hello everyone. My name is Pierre Delarue. I am French, which means I was not born in Equestria. And because of that, Princess Twilight has graciously offered to teach me the errors of my way. I am still single, despite the fact that I am, le gasp, over twenty.”

He expected a few reactions. 

“Are you ungrateful like my grandpa says?” was not one of them.

Pierre held a hoof before Hard Knocks. The mare’s mouth closed, though her eyes questioned his motives. Like it mattered. He offered the filly a gentle smile and tilted his head. “And what does your grandpa mean when he says ‘ungrateful’?”

“Grandpa says that bicorns that aren’t married young are just meanies that take without ever giving stuff in return. Says it’s ungrateful.”

“And what does he say when bicorns don’t want to be given stuff?”

The filly’s muzzle scrunched up. “I dunno… he never talks about that.”

“Well,” Hard Knocks half-shouted, “I think that’s enough! Your Highness, if you, your guards and our guest want to take a seat, we’ve saved up some at the back.”

They obediently made their ways through the rows of desks, the majority of the awe directed solely at Twilight and the crown on her head. It was refreshing to be less than the center of attention in a room for once. Obvious too, considering those foals were all bicorns. So, he took a seat next to an excited Twilight and a curious Attention Span, thinking that this part of the day would likely be boring but harmless. 

At the sight of the words written on the blackboard, Pierre felt a stone sink in his stomach. 

‘ETHICS AND MORALS’

Oh, of course Twilight thought this was the kind of classes they needed. Thank fuck Edward had wormed himself out of this. The foals and the teacher would have never survived the explosion. 

He already wanted out, and it hadn’t even started yet. In the corner of his eyes, he thought he could see Chainmail snort. 

“Now,” Hard Knocks called out with a strong clear voice, “since we seemed to have already breached today’s subject, I believe we will start by addressing what Abundance’s grandfather has been telling her.”

The filly shrunk in her seat, obviously embarrassed to be put on the spot like that. One of the foals in the back row ducked his head to hide his snickering.  

Pierre’s brow rose. What kind of teaching method was that?

“Remember, foals, the way you contribute to the survival of your tribe is up to you. If anypony of you wants to go to a donation center instead, it is perfectly alright.” A frown made her way to the teacher’s face. “I will not hear anymore of this ‘ungrateful’ nonsense. The option was given to all ponies, and raising foals of your own should be your choice.”

Pierre suddenly regretted not having a projectile to throw at the mare’s head. How could she even tell them they had choice with a straight face? 

“For some ponies, living in a herd is simply not an option. Perhaps there aren’t any compatible bicorns in the reserves, perhaps they… have certain tastes. Perhaps they want to live alone. The important thing is that bicorns that go to donation centers contribute to the survival of the species.”

Pierre had not known it was possible for hooves to clench like fist before. On his left, Twilight was listening to Hard Knocks’ speech, enraptured. At the front, Hard Knocks seemed more at ease, her eyes darting back to them in the back. 

“Now, foals, can anypony of you mention a bicorn they know that goes to donation centers instead of being in a herd? Anypony? ...Temperance?”

A little blue filly shrunk in her seat at being named. Her thoughtful, scrunched up muzzle made her appear even more precious, in Pierre’s opinion. In a typical student fashion, she wracked her brain for answers, helped by her own hoof rubbing the side of her head. 

“Huhhh… Social Swinger?” 

The name obviously meant something to both Hard Knocks and Twilight, as they nodded simultaneously.

“Of course,” the teacher said with an indulgent smile. “Everypony knows Social Swinger. He is a pioneer in the cause of donation centers across Equestria. But I meant somepony close to you. Anypony in your family?”

The filly stayed silent for a good minute, before shaking her head and sinking further in her seat. 

“That’s okay, Temperance. If you don’t, then you don’t and that’s not a problem. Anypony else?”

This time, a red hoof shot up, and a coltish voice rang out. “My uncle. He said something about his stallion friend staying home, but I didn’t really get it.”

Hard Knock’s tail flicked. “Very good, Signs.” Her smile looked more pained than anything else. “Anypony else? Anypony at all?”

Encouraged by the broken ice, another spoke up. “My sister. She says it’s stupid that she even has to do it at all.”

Shouts immediately erupted all over the classroom. The filly who had spoken found herself bombarded by confused or angry words by the rest of her classmates. It did not take long for her to start shouting back. 

Hard Knocks spent an instant completely frozen, hardly even blinking. Then, red rushed to her face, and she entered the melee, trying to be heard on top of all the other high pitched voice screaming.

Pierre shot an unimpressed look to Twilight, wordlessly pointing at the chaos in the classroom. If that were her plan to impress him into the greatness and necessity of the current system, then she’d grossly miscalculated. In the corner of his eyes, he could see Bronze looking annoyed and privately agreeing with Pierre’s thoughts. 

To her credit, Twilight appeared rather embarrassed by the foals’ outburst. 

And that was to say nothing of the despair etched on Hard Knocks’ face. Oh, the mare knew she had lost a perfectly good opportunity to look good in front of royalty. She would regret asking that question for the rest of her career, he wagered. 

“Right,” Twilight said as the foals quieted down, “I believe we will take our leaves.”

Pierre immediately stood. 

When he was in the doorframe, he paused and looked back. “Ah, ma’am, a quick question before I leave.”

“Yes!?” she said, too quick and eager to hide her desperation. 

“Do you have foals?”

A moment’s pause followed. “This is a bit of a personal question, but yes, I do have one colt. His name is Grandeur,” she said with a smile.

Pierre smiled back. “Just one?”

The mare blinked. “Yes? Why do you ask?”

“No reason.”

Bronze snorted. Not loud enough to be noticed by Twilight, but the guard was right behind Pierre. He was the one to close the door, and the best placed to see some foals raising their hooves in the air. 

A few questions could be heard, muffled from the closed classroom door. 

Well, there was hope yet. 


--


He had been mentally bracing himself for a disaster. He hadn’t been hoping for one, but Edward was too much of a realist not to anticipate his trip to the library dashing his more optimistic predictions. The outside of the library had seemed fairly innocuous, perhaps even innocent, what’s with the simple stone and marble structure, all greek columns and slanted roof. At the very least, it was distinct from every other brown-roof houses. 

But stepping inside… it meant crossing the threshold into a three stories high room lit only by the flames of candles, bathing them in a mixture of darkness and warm orange light. It meant taking his first breath in, and smelling the dust and the ink together. 

This meant little. He already knew that. Books were nothing more than their contents. He had long since learned not to judge them by their covers. 

But. 

It was like… 

Home.

Edward trotted down the stairs to get to the ground level, looking around with careful consideration. He could see section names, most familiar like ‘biography’, ‘history’, or ‘fiction’. On the other side of the room, through a hallway of full-capacity shelves, a librarian’s booth awaited them.    

Many old instincts surged through him. He could hardly help himself. With a small skip to his steps, he trotted up to a worktable and perused through the first open book he saw. Sketches of strange, twisted flowers occupied the top of every other pages. A botanical guide then. 

This… this really seemed like it was a proper library. He knew that it couldn’t possibly be true, but for a split second, he just let the idea sink. 

And he realized only a few moments too late that he had been grinning a good honest smile in front of his captors. 

Surprisingly, neither thestrals commented on it. Really, the cutting remark already on his tongue was going to waste. A glance back revealed the reason for it. 

Belfry hadn’t even gotten down the stairs yet. She had taken to staring agape at the wondrous sight of this library, a sense of wonder and jealousy sparkling in her gaze. 

“Do close your mouth, batsie,” Ed drawled, “you will swallow bugs if you keep it up.”

He was ready to let it die down after that. 

Belfry, on the other hoof… “Was that a tribalist jab?” she said, voice far too soft to be sincere. 

“No, it’s a compliment.” He rolled his eyes, then went back to reading the titles on the books’ covers. “Do I sound like someone with whatever version of racism you ponies have?

“You just used ‘you ponies’ unironically.”

He grinned. “I’ve also once said that I admired Pierre’s intelligence.”

The shout was instantaneous, and vaguely indignant. 

“Horseapples!”

Edward turned a sardonic smile back to the bat mare. “Well, if you know me so well, why are you wasting your breath with this questioning?”

Belfry’s lips thinned. Her gaze was two burning ambers, near shining in the candlelight, and there was a promise to make him eat those words cold. Best revenge and all. “Luna’s teats! I really am wasting my breath.”

“Glad to see you are not at all slow on the uptake,” he commented, pulling out a thick volume called The Disasters of the Golden Era from the shelves. Half leaning against the table, he opened it up at a random page. “And you are the elite? Watching over me and assuring my security.”

“Wow, you know, you’re really making me question my skills here. Maybe you’re right. I ought to stop being a guard and turn my skills to evading capture.” Belfry cracked her neck, rolled her shoulders. “Which will be needed, once I have finished pounding you into the ground.”

Loud throat-clearing cough made her flinch. And the look on Tempered Steel’s face made her go white. If his usual demeanor suggested a statue, a gargoyle watching down on the city he meant to protect, the scowl he was wearing hinted that even a mountain might start moving. 

Belfry’s hoof snapped to the side of her head, in a very formal and stiff salute that Edward could hardly blame her for. “Sir! Apologies, Sir!”

Even the flames on the candle seemed to be holding their breath, almost still, and their lights dim. 

Well, he wasn’t going to be able to work like this, now was he? “Since we’ve established that you are prickly about yet one more thing, are you gonna tell me about your tragic backstory now?”

Whatever tension existed evaporated, though small beads of sweat still pearled on Belfry’s fur. 

“Oh, just go get bucked.” She groaned and facehoofed. “Sergeant, listen to this! It’s like talking to Blueblood once he gets shitfaced.”

“Prickly.” He popped the word out like a piece of candy. Teasing. Mocking, but with little of the cold and scorn he aimed at others. “You’re always complaining that bicorns have it too good. So, what’s this new deal with books? Thestrals don’t learn how to read? No, wait, that ‘depends on the neighborhood’, correct?”

Belfry’s wings tensed and relaxed in quick succession, her gaze lingering over the darkness of the roof. Edward wouldn’t put it past her to fly up there and hang upside down like a real bat. 

A long sigh. “This… this is a public library.”

“Your powers of observations have vastly improved in the last thirty seconds, I see.”

“No, you goathead, I’ve been in public libraries before! It’s just…” The mare looked down at her shaking hoof, a snarl of frustration on her face. “They’re much shadier than this. This reminds me more of...”

“The Archives,” completed the deep voice of Tempered Steel. “Smaller, but it’s very similar.”

“Equestria’s national library, right?” Edward glanced at his surroundings again. Someplace like this, bigger, so much bigger. The brief glimpse he had gotten in the show being just that, a glimpse. “I think I would like to see it one day. But I suppose this will be unlikely.”

Steel raised one sceptical eyebrow. “Indeed. Restricted readings would be easily found in such a place. You’d need a strict chaperone.”

“Stricter than four of you?”

“They would have to be a librarian, and herd you away from anything illicit.”

Edward’s hoof tightened against the cover of his book. “Why, this world is full of interesting concepts, isn’t it? A librarian that prevents people from reading.”

Belfry sighed. “Right, whatever, it’s not going to happen anyway. Let’s just get this over with. What are you looking for, exactly?” 

“To start with?” Edward cast a curious glance upon the rows of books. “A catalogue would be nice. I’ve got lots of work ahead of me.”


--


Red may have tainted the sky, but the sunlight had long since stopped shining onto the reserve. The sun had disappeared behind the high walls, and that, Pierre had realized, had been Twilight’s signal to go back to Edward and the night guards. 

They could manage, Span and Chainmail confirmed. Good Faith and her mother had come meet them at the entrance of the school with Starry Eyes. Whilst the purple mare had taken the chattering bunch of foals back with her, Presage had restrained Faith so she wouldn’t leave them all behind. Sunset! That was the time Doctor Child Care had told them! 

Presage had reacted by rolling her eyes, chuckling and teasing her daughter about her growing enthusiasm. 

But as they had grown closer to the hospital, Presage had grown silent. Little ticks had begun to appear in her mannerism, twitches of her ears and flicks of her tail. Her daughter, her mind in her daydreams of prince charming, failed to notice. 

Pierre hadn’t. Chainmail and Span hadn’t. 

A cold hand tugged at his guts at the sight of the building itself. Briefly, Pierre paused. His legs locked into places, and he felt Presage’s gaze burning on his skin. They… they shouldn’t get in that hospital. Something bad was going to happen, he knew it. And, on the verge of a warning, he saw Presage turn his way. 

The same fear reflected back in her eyes. 

Faith blissfully trotted up to the door, not even pausing as the doors opened and a chime rang in the air. 

Don’t let her get in, he heard himself think. Which was absurd. Really, what was going to happen inside an hospital in the middle of a reserve full of people thinking harming her species as blasphemy? 

Presage ran inside. He bolted after them both, and all four of them barrelled into the entrance as if they someone had been grievously injured. 

Faith turned around, still blissfully smiling, still radiant. Even the note of concern in her voice couldn’t break the image. “Mom?”

“You...” Presage stumbled on her words. “I… Sorry, you just left us both in the dust outside.”

Giggling. 

“Oops. My bad, Mom. I didn’t even notice. I just… it’s happening. It’s finally happening!”

It’s finally happening, Pierre repeated in thoughts. He took a step back, though nopony noticed. Presage merely buried her head against her daughter’s shoulder. Hiding her face. Just enough time that she looked perfectly happy and excited, and they could get to the second floor. It’s finally happening.

It did.

“I’m sorry,” began Doctor Child Care with a solemn expression, looking at Presage, looking anywhere but at Good Faith. “Your daughter is a carrier for the Unluck Horn. We’ve found traces in her blood.”

They were sitting, but it still felt as if they’d fallen down.

“What?” Faith croaked.

Still falling. Clinging to one another whilst the cold whipped at them. Screaming, at the top of their lungs, knowing that it would end, that everything would end.

“Doctor, are y--?”

She did not let Presage finish. She cut right through, as if she were wielding a scalpel. “I am afraid this means that she is ineligible for the program.”

The dread had given way to panic. He wanted to run. To flee, to gallop away and hide away, and not look as the horror wormed itself into that silly teenager’s eyes. 

“No.” He could barely hear her. She was leaning against him and her mother, and he could barely hear her. 

The doctor looked down. 

“No, no, no. It… that’s not true. You’re joking, right?” An hysterical laugh rose from her throat. “Please… please, tell me it’s a joke! I can’t… I can’t have foals?!”

“It would be irresponsible to have foals knowing you would transmit the disease to them. I understand that this is hard to hear.” – You understand nothing, you fat cow! – “But you cannot be part of the breeding program. It would damage your species’ viability in the long run.”

Presage grabbed unto her. “Doctor, there must be some sort of mistake.”

Yes, thought Pierre. Some files might have been misplaced. A test tube swapped with another by accident. There had to be something, anything, to save the filly crumbling against him. In that moment, it did not matter that he despised everything about this whole joke of a system. Faith didn’t deserve to have her most sincere wish destroyed. 

“Presage, there is no mistake.” Doctor Child Care’s face was slowly turning ashen. “Believe me. I triple-checked. Good Faith is a carrier. She’ll be unlikely to develop the more severe symptoms, but the breeding program refuses anypony that could spoil it.”

Faith pulled away from him. She spoke, but with a quiet, broken voice. “W-what am I going to do?” 

“I’m sorry, Faith. I truly am.” To her credit, Pierre believed her. But for the good it did, it wasn’t much. She knew how little her words mattered. It was written all over her face. She’d done it before. “There is nothing I can do for you, except fill in a request for the general treatment.”

Faith sobbed. 

“Sweetheart, we’ll talk to your father and your aunts. We’ll think of something, I promise.”


--


As he had every other time the doors of the library opened and let filter inside natural light, Edward looked up from his copy of Equestrian Tribes Explained: Volume IV. The bat on the cover seemed to flap its wings as he shut it close and placed it down on the table. 

The newcomer had a very distinct lavender coat, and even if the frame of sunlight obscured her wings, so few ponies around had a single horn in this ‘town’. Twilight took a moment to contemplate the library’s interior, clearly regretting not having come earlier. A minute shake of her head later, she was making her way down to the ground level. 

She found him surrounded by the adult equivalent of a book fort, spread across the worktable and around Belfry and Steel. 

“Well, Edward, you’ve had it your way. A full day in the library, but now you’re coming back with me. We will be preparing for dinner at Chief Cloven Print’s. I hope this was fruitful, at least?”

“Of course,” he said, stretching as he stood, “I made several fascinating discoveries. I would say that was a day well-spent.”

Twilight’s expression turned cautious. “Fascinating? Do I want to hear what you consider fascinating?”

“Groundbreaking, perhaps?” He shrugged, but it came out forced. “Honestly, this Equestria is teaching me much about the great questions. Did you know? Suicide is the ultimate philosophical question. If you answer it, you can understand what the value of life is to a person. What is so unbearable that life is not worth living anymore?”

One might have as well extinguished every candle in the room and created a blizzard inside the library. Then, perhaps the physical temperature would match the heavy silence that followed, perhaps it would feel like the sickening anticipation wracking at their nerves. 

“It’s illness, Edward,” Twilight breathed, so insistent he could hear the words echoed back to her. “Mental illness, emotional imbalance. Each time, it’s a tragedy. Not a… not a number in a scientific study!” 

“I happen to disagree. It really tells quite a lot about bicorn nature, I would argue. For example, did you know that there was a distinct spike in suicides after the Law of Low Stress Management?”

Belfry took a step forward, a troubled look in her eyes. “You didn’t say anything about that when you asked for it.”

“Well, it wasn’t what I had been looking for. I simply happened to notice.” And with an unkindness to his tone, he added, “I bothered to look. And surprise, surprise, going by the registry, a good seventy percent of the dead had been marked as blank flanks.”

This time, he noticed them all pale. 

What had been Clairvoyance’s opinion on the matter? Ah, yes, it used to be rare, but nowadays, the majority never found their true calling. Edward, still showing teeth in the least friendly manner possible, subtly hinted at his own bare flanks.  

Twilight Sparkle’s nostrils flared, her glare making their escort flinch. “What are you threatening here, Edward?”

Ed snorted. “Aye, your mind would jump to that. I tell you a fact, and you think it’s a threat. Truth scares you, doesn’t it? It is no threat, Princess. I’m simply telling you what your dogmatic mind refuses to acknowledge. Bicorns are not happy!”

“Yes, they are.” Twilight’s left wing extended toward the library’s doors. “Just look outside. Bicorns are going about their lives, and most of them are happy, without a worry in their lives.”

Ed threw his head back and laughed. Not much else to do in the face of such blatant denial. He was almost tempted to ask her if she remembered how she had gotten her wings. But no, those were the wrong words. There was always a limit to her patience, and every iteration of these arguments cut the fuse shorter. 

“Really? Well, you are a librarian, aren’t you?” He pushed an open book across the table. “Here’s a list of genres I found. Notice anything funny about it?”

“Nothing’s strange about it,” Twilight said after a quick glance. “Those are all genres you could be expected to find in any public library.”

Edward’s glare filled with disdain. “Oh, really? Nothing wrong? Which ones are missing?”

Behind Twilight, both Belfry and Steel exchanged curious, cautious glances. Their silent communication however went unnoticed by the alicorn princess closing her eyes as if she was long suffering. With a strong sigh, Twilight looked back to Edward.

“Horror. I mean, it’s rather obvious. Those stories are designed to create stressful emotions and anxiety. I thought you knew this already.”

“I said ‘which ones’. Plural, lass. There’s another one.” His smirk grew sharp. “I’m curious to hear how you justify keeping that off the shelves.”

Belfry and Steel did their very best to appear uninvested. 

Twilight’s eyes glided over the list again. The moment of realization crystallized on her face, her breath hitching, her magic wrinkling the scroll. 

“Romance.”

“I don’t get it,” Belfry said. Sneered would be a more appropriate word. “What’s the big deal with letting bicorns read about smooching or bucking? It’s more or less everything they do.” 

Twilight didn’t elaborate. Her eyes remained fixed on the list, as if she could disintegrate it from the sheer intensity of her glare. At the edges of her magical aura, sparks sizzled, going on wild tangents before fading out in the air. 

“Because,” Ed drawled, “what pony would accept this sham of a romantic life when they read about the things other ponies dream about, right? Can’t let the bicorns have ideas, can we? Imagine if they dreamed of, shocker, actual romance. How many would be pleased to be matched to genetically compatible bicorns then?”

“And then what? Just make sure they all sigh wistfully into the night, wondering why they can’t live a life like a romance novel? We can’t let bicorns go extinct! How-” Her voice broke. “How could we let a tribe of ponies disappear without doing everything we can!?”

“There would be less bicorns being born, but there wouldn’t be less ponies.”

“We’re trying to save bicorns!”

“That’s your problem! Right here and now, you think of bicorns and ponies as different things! They’re some kind of subspecies, some inferior, second-rate imitations of ponies!”

“I… I don’t!” Twilight shot back, her voice pained. “Edward, I swear I am not!”

“Then why are we here?!”

Twilight gaped. 

“Just… ” He gestured wildly, to the books, to the two guards in the background, to his horns. “Just tell me. How can you think of bicorns as ponies and still do what you do to them?”

“It’s… it is needed.”

“Not letting bicorns even dream of something else is needed? Why? Because then they might start to protest what is being done to them? Because if they do, then your conscience won’t be clear anymore?”

“Princess Celestia… It’d be cruel, Edward. The herd is more important than the pony. If they don’t want to be matched, they can go to the centers.”

“Ah, yes, the centers,” Ed said with a sweet voice that got both guards to shiver. “Plan B, as I’ve started calling it. Have you ever tried matching up the dates of the first center being opened with other events? As a game, per say.”

Tempered Steel could not have been more still if he had tried. Belfry’s eyes darted to him, the thought the same as the one crossing Edward’s mind. Steel had been the one to look through old archives of newspaper clips. 

His gaze went to the folded folios on the table. For a solid few seconds, the sergeant seemed unsure. Yet the hesitation passed. He closed his eyes, inhaled, then reappeared as stoic and serious as ever. 

The guard did not react outwardly to Edward’s frown. He could imagine the kind of words the bicorn wanted to throw his way. Except Edward wasn’t actually looking at him. 

“Edward?” Belfry asked slowly. “Edward, are you okay?”

The thoughtful frown on his face deepened. His hoof clenched around something -- flesh, fur. His pulse throbbed in his veins, slowly turning them into this boiling, electrifying mess. 

“Edward.” Leather waved before his face. “Edward. Do you hear me? Do you need a doctor?”

“No. I don’t need one.”


--


The feeling of dread hadn’t receded. It gripped at his throat, like he was going to throw up at any moment, like every breath would be shallower than the last. He paced, back and forth, trying not to hear any of the hushed words hissed between Faith’s parents. He had no right to it. 

That left him alone downstairs with a sleeping Clairvoyance in her rocking chair. He could scarcely imagine how terrible her reaction would be to this development. Maybe she’d take a page out of their books and cuss up a storm. He certainly had let loose a few choice words. 

Of all the ponies to have it. Hadn’t he feared that very same outcome when he had learned of the numbers? One in five? Well, that was the first, Fortune’s little sister. And the one that had actually wanted this life too. 

And now, a broken filly with nothing ahead of her. 

When he noticed her parents coming out of the dining room, the words came out on their own. “How is she?”

“She… she… ” Presage couldn’t go further, collapsing into tears. Starry Eyes caught up just in time, but the purple mare didn’t seem to fare much better. 

“She is taking it extremely hard,” Omens said, her fury completely transparent. Her hooves twitched, and he would bet that had her anger found a recipient, it would be trampled. “She had been looking forward to this. She has no idea what to do. She’s lost.”

Her husband ran a soothing hoof over her shoulder. “Faith will recover. She just needs some time. Rethink a few things.”

“RETHINK?!” Omens tossed his hoof aside. “It’s not just a silly side project! It was her whole life!”

“I know that!” Evocator shouted back. “But what are we supposed to do?! What is she meant to do now?! She can’t even look at you or at me! She wouldn’t hear anything we said!”

Tears shone in both their eyes. That did not make them any more quiet. The dam had shattered, and now both of them were yelling, their words completely indistinct one over the other.

All Pierre could think of was the fact Good Faith hadn’t been able to look at her parents. Right. Right! Nothing probably hurt her more than seeing her pregnant mother after getting this kind of news. She would want to be alone, at least a little bit. It wasn’t… it wasn’t that surprising. 

Wait.

The feeling of dread hadn’t receded. 

He forced himself to be calm.

“Where is she?”

Evocator frowned. “The kitchen. She said she wanted to make something. Alone.” Doubt, a nagging feeling, seeped in as his own words registered. “She didn’t say what.”

His whole body feeling like lead, Pierre trotted up to the kitchen’s door. He felt the insistent stares of Faith’s parents burn against the back of his skull. Their hoofsteps started getting closer. He pressed his ear against the door.

He couldn’t hear a thing.

His voice sounded distant to his own ears. “Are you sure she’s in there?”     

Presage’s hoof rasped against the door. 

“Faith? Sweetheart, can we come in?” The calmness of her voice contradicted the hints of worry in her traits. 

She had felt it too. Before the hospital. 

Young teenager found dead after his sixteenth birthday!

Dull pain spread through his forehead. He hadn’t realized he had heabutted the door. Which remained solid, too solid, an obstacle between him and Faith. 

“Open the door,” he told her parents, and, at their baffled look, yelled, “Didn’t you hear me?! Open the door, right now!”

It was as if the sound had broken a trance. Good Omens and Evocator blinked, and paled and rushed at Pierre’s side. Together, they reared, and their heads slammed into the door, throwing it off its hinges. 

She was in there. On the floor. 

Red pooled under her wrists. 

Their voices merged into an unholy shout, a sound of horror, and terror and heartbreak. 

“FAITH!” 

Good Omens charged with speed he’d never expect to see from a heavily pregnant mare. She had reached Faith before he could even think of moving.

“Presage! Get the medkit! Now! Evocator, help me put pressure on her injuries!”

Heat drilled into Pierre’s head, right at the base of his horns. It made his sight blurry, everypony broken down into splotches of colours and distorted shouts. Out. He shook, and before he could comprehend it, he was moving toward the door.

His sight cleared just as he bumped into somepony’s shoulder.

“What’s going on?” asked a panicked, familiar voice. “Pierre? We heard the screa- Sweet Celestia, Faith!”

No. She shouldn’t see that. 

“Fortune, take your siblings--” one pony said firmly. 

“No, no, no, I can’t. Mom, Faith. I have to stay, she’s, she’s--”

“You.” Omens threw a wooden spoon right at his head. “Get her out of here, and make sure she stays out!” 

He barely even felt the hit. He just saw himself put a hoof around her shoulder and drag her away. It wasn’t hard. She hadn’t realized what he was doing until he actually pulled and by then, she had to follow to stay standing. 

It was only when Pierre closed the door -- tried to keep it on its broken hinges -- that Fortune reacted.  

The foals blinked and stared at the sight of their eldest sister fighting against the one they thought would be her husband. 

“Pierre, let me go through. Pierre!”

Whispering, praying that the little ones hadn’t seen : “She’s going to be alright.”

“I have to be there!” Tears splashed against his fur. “I have to be with her!”

“Your parents are taking care of her.” Air rushed out of him, quick words, trembling as his hooves whilst he tried to turn her around. “Your siblings. The little ones, Fortune. Ace is right there. Don’t panic. It’s okay. She’ll be okay. Tarot is looking at you. Faith’s gonna be fine.”

He didn’t even know who he said it for. 

“What’s going on?” asked a small pink filly whose name Pierre couldn’t even remember. “Fortune? Why are you crying?”

Ace stared at his eldest sister.

“Faith… she was on the floor.”

Such innocent words. Kinder words. On the floor. A child’s words. Fortune choked up at them. Her little sister, splayed on the kitchen’s tiles, with a knife, and blood and… Celestia, he couldn’t faint. Not here. He’d never forgive himself. 

His face was solemn as he gently gathered Fortune’s little sibling out of view of the kitchen and dragged them to their bedroom. ‘Just wait here,’ ‘it’s not going to be long’, ‘I’ll come back in a minute’. The bare minimum. It was already lucky he could think of that much. When he returned downstairs, Fortune was waiting in the livingroom, sitting on one of the cushions, her gaze blank and fixed upon the kitchen’s door. 

“Fortune...” 

She whirled about and grabbed his shoulders in a grip so tight it immediately became painful. “What’s going on?! Why…” The grip loosened. “Why was Faith…?” 

“The test. We got bad news. She’s out of the program.”

Fortune’s eyes widened to the size of plates, red and wet with more tears. “She’s… she’s sick?” 

That’s when the front door slammed open on Edward’s group. And two medics. 


--


Some other time, he would have laughed at the look on Twilight’s face. Her day had been one moment of dismay after the other, it would seem. That checklist must have felt like it was taunting her. They had cleared half of it, or so the marking would have him believed.      

Pierre doubted she would call it a fruitful venture at this point. 

He was torn between gratitude and disgust. The medics had stabilized Faith quickly enough that they didn’t fear for her life. But what was that knowledge when he had to stand there, next to Fortune and Ace, both weeping, clinging, unable to look away from their sister on the bed? 

She… she was pale. Paler than he thought she could be with such a vibrant coat. But Faith lied there, bandages on her forelegs, fluids dripping down into her IV. She looked small. 

Young. Still a child. She reached his muzzle, and he wasn’t that tall of a stallion. 

What was she doing in a hospital bed fighting for her life? He’d heard her bicker with Fortune through the bedroom wall just the day before. He’d heard her laugh. 

Young teenager found dead after his sixteenth birthday. 

The door didn’t creak open. No, magic shimmered around the doorknob and the hinges. As a courtesy perhaps. Little could be done about the sound of hoofsteps or flapping wings. 

No member of Faith’s family looked up. Faith’s doctor had been an earth pony after all.

Pierre on the other hoof did turn. He slid in Fortune’s and Ace’s loosened grip, neither of them reacting beyond an unconscious squeeze. It was the first time being so close to Fortune didn’t make him react at all. Mostly, he didn’t notice.

She was here. She had actually come, right here, in the hospital.

A part of him worried about the cold in his chest. He could see how badly Twilight had taken it. He could see the unruly strands of hair sticking out, the redness around the corner of her eyes, the slow gait she adopted, as if her legs would give out under her. 

Even her voice was fragile. 

“I wish to offer my sympathies to you all on behalf of the Crown. Rest assured that everything will be taken care of. You’ll receive all the help you need.” A pause, then a lowered head, the reversal of last night. “I am so sorry for what happened to your daughter.”

All four guards reiterated the sentiment. It was no less terrible to hear, but at least half of them tried to stay. After receiving little acknowledgement beyond a nod from Evocator, Twilight turned on her heels. 

Edward stood right as he did, but he was faster.

He caught her just in the doorway. 

“How… how dare you?” he spat. 

Words were faster than his mind. Just looking at her was painful, throbbing painful, his pulse so strong it left him dizzy. He ought to – have been faster – make her understand! Make her feel! Make her think! ‘It’s for your own good’ didn’t cut it! 

“Pierre, what are y-?”

“You’re… you’re here, showing your face in front of them! Why do you even think she’s this way?”

She blinked, rubbed at her eyes. “She needs help. I’ll… I’ll make sure she gets it.”

“You’ve seen the file, haven’t you?” He grabbed her shoulders and pulled.  “She’s got the Unluck Horn Disease!”

“I know,” she babbled through the tears, “I know, Pierre! I didn’t want this! That’s not how things are meant to work!” 

The words were weak. So weak. Now he was glad he had waited for her to leave. If Fortune or the others had heard them… 

It wasn’t meant to be like this. No. Good Faith was meant to be skipping around, singing to herself as she happily registered herself for the breeding program. She had been a good filly, doing everything as she had been taught to. And there she was. 

What. A. Shame. 

“The option was given to all ponies, and raising foals of your own should be your choice.”

“No?” he asked, flatly, tonelessly. “How then?”

Guilt. Mad, frantic guilt ravaging her mind, seeping so deep it rattled her bones and sent her heart into a frenzy. And a balming denial flash flooded her veins, her very being latching onto the idea. This wasn’t her doing! 

“She was happy,” spilled from her lips into hushed whispers. “She was perfectly happy just yesterday. She was fine.”

“And now,” -- Pierre leaned in, turned her to the half-open door, forcing her to look at the bed, at the tubes and the beeping machines -- “Now, she’s not. Because she’s not allowed to have foals. Because she’s worthless to you all, and you all made sure she fucking knew it..”

Edward laughed. It should have been the straw to break the camel’s back. It should have, but it sunk deep under Pierre’s skin, rattled right into his bone. It was just… appropriate.

If Life has such a terrible sense of humour, then they’d be fool not to laugh. He ought to learn how to smile without smiling like Edward did. “It’d be cruel to let her have had any other dream, right?”

Twilight tripped. Her legs gave out. He didn’t know. He just saw that she was leaning on the wall of the hospital, breathing hard, heavily, light buzzing around her horn. Something in her eyes like it was going to break.

“You’ve taught her to only live for breeding, and after sixteen years, you tell her she’s not even good enough for that. What’s left?!”

“Her cutie mark is a nursing bottle,” Edward said, as if he were making small talk. The way his eyes searched and found both Belfry and Tempered Steel dispelled any such impression. 

The stallion stayed stone still. The mare squirmed. 

“Seventy percent...” Twilight whispered, making both her night guards flinch. Violently.

“Look.”

Twilight, her escorts, their heads turned to Pierre. His gaze was elsewhere. To the slimmer of space between the door and the doorframe. 

One could see the bed, if they squinted. 

“Look!”

Twilight trembled. Stared straight ahead. Away. Away from the bedroom. Away, anywhere but.

“LOOK AT WHAT YOU’VE DONE!”

Nopony spoke.

“Stop, please.” Trembling words as if they were tearing her inside. But she still didn’t look. “It wasn’t me. It wasn’t my fault. This was an unfortunate accident. Nopony could have seen it coming.”

The feeling of dread, Presage’s look, “Your daughter is a carrier”

YOUNG TEENAGER FOUND DEAD AFTER HIS SIXTEENTH BIRTHDAY

“Page twenty-two?”

“Seventy percent...”

The curse spilled out of him. “How could you ever wield an Element of Harmony?”

Twilight folded in half. A gasp -- a sob -- on her lips. 

“Wrong question, Pierre,” Edward drawled with a hateful sneer. “How could Celestia?”

Purple light flared. 

Washed over them. Shocked. Froze. Filled in the air, shimmering, stilling. Buzzing against metal, and flesh. 

Belfry and Steel were both assuming defensive positions, their wings stuck half-extended. Span’s eyes darted around whilst his muscles twitched, almost right between Twilight and the former-humans. Chainmail, tackling a nurse to the ground but stopped before the motion had ended. 

Nopony could move. 

And there stood Twilight, hovering in midair by her own power -- eyes like white void. “I’M TRYING TO HELP YOU!”

Eyes like rivers. 

Edward and Pierre stared into the white abyss. Dared her, dared her to say it again. 

The flash of light nearly lifted them off their hooves. The blowback did.

Whereas Twilight Sparkle had previously occupied the spot, there remained but the faintest hints of a scorch mark under her hooves. 

“Where did she go?” 

It could have been Chainmail or Belfry, for all they heard with their ears ringing. 

Attention Span took one look at the scorch mark and groaned. “Oh no.”

“Corporal Chainmail,” barked Tempered Steel, “you are staying with the bicorns. Private Span, you will fly to the gates and ask if any of them saw the Princess, and if possible recruit any pegasus to help us search. Corporal Belfry, you are going to search everything North of the hospital, I’ll take care of the section to the South. Regroup here once you have completed your assigned task.”

They left. Chainmail didn’t make eye contact. He let them go inside the bedroom without any comment. Like he wasn’t even there anymore. 

They sat down with the family; Pierre next to Fortune, who latched onto him on the spot, Edward next to Clairvoyance, who had no comment to make. 

An hour later, the three guards returned empty-hoofed. None of them had seen Twilight, or caught even a whisper of her. Not the guards at the entrance, not the Chief in his office. Nopony. Tempered Steel’s frown had grown noticeably more pronounced as he grimly announced his conclusion. 

Twilight Sparkle had teleported out of the reserve entirely. 

“This is bad. Our commanding officer and princess has all but left us to dry,” Belfry snapped, snarling at nopony in particular, but ready to turn on the first to contradict her. Pacing, she sighed and rubbed her forehead. “Considering the state she was in as she left, we need to find where she’s gone as soon as possible. Princess Twilight needs us right now.”

“Indeed. I had hopes she had simply blinked out of the hospital, but...” Sergeant Steel’s eyes took a glint not unlike his namesake. “We need to find her, but our mission remains the foreign bicorns’ safety.”

“...Sergeant, I should be the one to stay here.” Chainmail nodded toward their charges. “I… just, I want to stay here. It’s not like I’ll be more useful to you by taking the train. I’m just a small time guard. Nopony special.”

And for a second, somepony could have mistaken his last word as spoken with relief. 

You think the horns on your head make you special?

“Understood.” Sergeant Steel nodded. “We simply need to get a hold of our commanding officer. Private Span, you will fly to Baltimare and get to a radio tower. Message Canterlot, explain the situation, ask for sightings of her. I’ll make the trip to Ponyville, see if Princess Twilight has returned to her home. Corporal Belfry, you are to act as backup for Corporal Chainmail. Regular shifts.”

They separated an instant later. Only Belfry stayed for a handful of moments longer, strangely silent for once. She was out the door almost right away, under pretext that she needed to patrol the hospital’s surroundings. Just in case.  

Nopony had the desire to call her out on it. 

They just stayed there, watching through the window into the streets, at the rows of near identical rooftops, at the hundreds trotting without a thought for the hospital overlooking them.

“You were right, Pierre.”

He blinked. “Huh?”

Chainmail’s helmet was in his hoof, his mane slick with sweat and sticking to his face. His eyes, straight on him. “Back in the hospital. You told me like it is. Same as you Edward. I trained to protect ponies. Not… not whatever the buck we’re doing in this Celestia-forsaken place!”

“Approved,” Ed chimed in, smirking. “Celestia-approved place, Officer. This is her doing. And that of every lemming that accepts it in blind obedience. Glad to see you removed your blinders.”

“I still think you’re a hateful prick, Edward. And you’re not much better, Pierre.” The heat simmered down almost instantly. He slumped. “But this is worse. What… it’s not worth it. There’s no way something is worth it.”

Breathing was easier, if only a little. It could sink in. Ponies were not beyond hope.

“So, Frenchie, turns out you were right on two things, your personal record. Not only did you convince no-longer-a-lapdog here, but Highlight Sparkle did leave us stuck in here. Gonna panic now?”

“No.” Pierre was looking at the bicorns huddled close around Faith’s bed. Something cold and distant had darkened his gaze. “I’m fine with staying here.”

“Well, not entirely surprised you flipflop like a weathervane.” To anypony else, it would sound like a taunt. But Pierre had learned the nuances enough to hear the approval hidden beneath. “If not panic, then what? What’s your next move?”

“I will destroy Celestia.”