> Twilight Sparkle of the Royal Guard: The Rising
>  by King of Beggars
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Chapter 1 - Idle Hooves
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The walls in the barracks were thick, made of the same hoof-carved granite and marble that made up the rest of the castle, but regardless of the thickness of the walls, the sound of a hundred snoring stallions still shook the air. Even in her room, down a hallway and through a solid wooden door, Twilight could feel the rumble of their concert against her skin.

Most visitors to the barracks during the off-hours couldn’t stand the sound. It was a deep, rumbling cacophony of tired, obstructed breathing passages. Twilight didn’t mind it, though. She’d grown up in military dormitories and had gotten used to the sound of snoring soldiers. Some nights, she liked to pretend it was the pleasant concert of frogs croaking into the night air.

To Twilight’s amusement, Cadance hadn’t seen it that way at all. The first time Cadance had tried to sleep over in Twilight’s quarters, she immediately dragged Twilight out of bed and declared that snuggle-times would only happen in her private chambers from that point on.

Twilight could deal with the snoring, but there was a sense of restlessness keeping her up these days. She'd been suffering from a verve of unspent energy for the past week. She’d even gone so far as to give up coffee, one of the few liquids more important to her wellbeing than her own blood, but it was pointless sacrifice.

Twilight stopped pacing around her room and checked the clock sitting on her nightstand. There was still a half-hour until reveille, until breakfast. She wasn’t all that hungry, but her body was aching with the urge to move, and mealtimes were at least a break from the monotony her days had become. Three weeks – nearly four, now – was how long she’d been home, and by this point she was almost longing for the days of running through itchy sands and fighting for her life.

Doctor’s orders had been to rest and relax for the month-long duration of her medical leave, but it had been over a week since she’d felt so much as a twinge from her knee, and the stitches from her injury were already pulled. Between Cadance’s mother-hen-like fussing and the great medical care she was being provided, Twilight had felt ready to return to her duties for over a week.

Despite Twilight’s personal assessment of her own health, Cadance had taken it upon herself to make sure that Twilight followed the doctor’s prescription to the letter. Orders were orders, as far as Cadance was concerned, so the only thing Twilight was allowed to do, under her girlfriend’s hawk-eyed vigil, was read.

Read, and read, and read, and read.

Not that she hated reading; far from it. The problem was that her life-long love-affair with books was starting to dull in the face of her restlessness, and she’d been looking for ways to spice it up – not unlike an old married couple trying to breathe life into a withering romance. Twilight did her best to whittle away the days reading in bed, reading in the library, reading in the gardens, reading by hornlight whilst upside down in a closet – anything to break up the monotony.

What she really wanted to do was get outside and move around, even if it was just doing laps around the castle. She’d spent years honing her body as well as her mind, and without being able to keep up with both, she was beginning to feel a sense of internal imbalance.

With a groan, she looked away from the clock and checked her reflection.

“You’re getting fat,” she chastised herself as she poked her own belly. Her tummy was a little softer than usual, and her flanks were just a little bit bigger than she was used to seeing, but she was still well within the acceptable parameters of fitness. Of course, she was never satisfied with simply falling within the median of anything when it came to her own faculties, in any respect.

She almost turned away from the mirror, but was stopped by the compulsion to once again check her own disfigurement. She felt the need to do so every time she saw the mirror, and she was beginning to worry that the morbid fixation wouldn’t dim with time as she’d originally hoped.

With a heavy sigh, Twilight turned around to look at the Cutie Mark on her left side – the side that now sported a long scar across her flank. Most of the hair that had been shorn away by medics had already returned, the follicular growth hastened by some mixture she’d been given to drink after her stitches had been removed. Sadly, the coat would never fully grow back. Her Cutie Mark on that side would forever bear a long, hairless line where her flesh had mended. The doctors assured her that as the years went on, the light-pink scar tissue would darken and blend into her naturally dark coat, but for the time being, she would have to live with it.

Cadance had been very supportive. She said that the scar made Twilight look tough, dependable. Twilight’s opinion wasn’t so favorable, but as long as Cadance was okay with it, there was no use worrying. The only other comfort she could give herself was from the knowledge that, as a professional soldier, she was bound to end up with a scar or two throughout her career. She just hadn’t expected it to be so prominent, or in so noticeable a place.

She tore her gaze away from her own reflection and unlocked her trunk, levitating her chakram and its holster out and securing it to her side with a practiced flourish of magic. She always felt a little reassured by the thing’s presence. It made her feel prepared and ready for action.

She continued pacing in a circle, wearing a furrow into the shaggy material of her rug. It was just another twenty minutes until reveille, then she could get some breakfast without waking anypony else.

Then she’d exercise, even if Cadance found out about it and yelled at her. She had to do something today or she’d go crazy.


* * *


Twilight held her spoon in the grip of her magic and speared viciously into her grapefruit. The stupid thing attempted to defend itself with a squirt of citrus that landed on her cheek. She wiped the liquid away with a hoof and scooped a helping of its guts into her mouth.

“You know that you’re my hero, right?” asked the unicorn stallion sitting across from her at the table.

“So you’ve said,” Twilight sighed, pointedly refusing to look up at Glowstone.

“No, but really, you are,” he said.

She exhaled sharply and lifted her gaze to the pestering unicorn. His shaggy, unkempt mane hung loosely over his eyes without his galea or the ridiculous hairband he normally wore while off duty, and all during breakfast he’d been blowing the hair out of his face. The Guard wasn’t too strict about mane styles – likely owing to their little-known history of being the equivalent of an extremely well-trained, militarized boy band – and the long, golden-blond tresses suited his charcoal-gray coat very nicely. It was a silly look, but she supposed that it suited the stallion’s equally silly personality.

“You’ve said that, too,” she said, jabbing her spoon in his direction.

“Because it’s true,” he said, his voice muffled by the extra-large helping of cereal he’d crammed into his mouth. He swallowed it down with a gulp and drank the last of the milk from the bowl with a loud slurp. “You gotta tell me what the secret is. How do you get a girl like Princess Mi Amore Cadenza?”

“Maybe you could try not eating your breakfast like a six year old,” Twilight said without attempting to hide the snarkiness in her voice.

“I’ll have you know that I had my first fillyfriend when I was six,” Glowstone replied smugly. He blew his hair out of his face and flicked his mane over his shoulder in a dramatically-vain way, like a snooty dame in a play. “Little Sunshine Teacup from down the lane. She was the cutest little filly. We used to play doctor, but not the kind that I ever wanted to play – she wanted to be a podiatrist, so she was always trying to examine my hooves.”

“Was Sunshine Teacup a princess?” Twilight asked.

Glowstone’s smugness waned just a bit. “No…”

“And was she also six years old at the time?”

“She was seven…”

“Then go ahead and assume that she was more easily impressed by how loudly you slurp your milk than an adult princess would be,” Twilight explained, wagging her spoon to punctuate her point.

Honestly, Cadance might actually be impressed by such a thing, but Twilight wasn’t about to tell him that. It was nopony’s business but hers and Cadance’s how childish the princess could be in private.

A few titters and subdued chuckles broke out from the surrounding tables, drawing her attention to the other guards trying to eat before they had to dress for inspection and the beginning of their shifts. Nopony else had opted to join them at their table, but the other guards were still apparently eager to eavesdrop on her conversation. The amount of attention she’d been getting over the past few weeks had been more than a bit unnerving. The respect that she was getting was nice, but the amount of gossiping was starting to take a toll on her nerves.

“You came back from the desert mean,” Glowstone said with a frown as he pushed his bowl aside and began digging into his own half of a grapefruit.

Twilight paused at this assessment of her attitude. It almost startled her to realize that she actually was being a little mean to Glowstone. His constant questions about how her relationship with Cadance was going may have been a little prying, but he probably didn’t mean to be. He, by his own admission, was just one of those hopeless romantic types that thought a knight-wins-princess fairytale was endlessly fascinating. And unlike other guards she was less acquainted with, he hadn’t tried to pry the details of her mission from her in an attempt to confirm which of the many stories floating around were true.

In short, he really didn’t deserve the attitude she was giving him.

“I’m sorry,” she finally said as she scooped out the last of the pulp in her grapefruit. “You’re right, I am being mean – downright grumpy, even. I’m just kind of… tired of everypony talking about me. It seems like every time I walk around a corner I’m hearing somepony whispering my name. Plus, I think all this downtime is getting to me. The lack of stress is really, really stressing me out, if that makes any sense.”

Glowstone stopped eating – a sure sign that he was deep in thought – as he considered her words. “I can see that… sorry if I’ve been insensitive,” he muttered apologetically. He let the moment hang in the air for a bit before digging back into the last remnants of his breakfast. “You do know that nopony’s saying anything negative, right?”

Twilight just shrugged.

“No, no shrug, I mean it,” he insisted. He rubbed the back of his head sheepishly, upsetting his mane and dropping his bangs back into his face. “I think maybe you don’t understand what it means to the rest of us, what you did in Zebrica.”

“Nopony knows what I did in Zebrica,” Twilight grumbled as she sipped her orange juice.

“We all know you got injured protecting Princess Mi Amore Cadenza from something mean enough that the brass refuses to talk about it,” Glowstone insisted. “When Nightmare Moon snatched up Princess Celestia… dude, we were all just standing around holding our collective junk, not really knowing what to do. All we could do was send out search parties and try to keep up a brave face for the civvies. Shining Armor and the other Elements of Harmony really stepped up, so everything worked out in the end, but I can’t even tell you how useless we all felt... And then you come back from your mission with a win for the team? Girl, you don’t even know how bad we needed that.”

Twilight stared down at the remains of her meal in quiet contemplation. Now this gossip situation was making a little more sense. Her personal victory wasn’t just her own, it was a vindication for her brothers-in-arms – proof that the Guard had worth. She’d never thought of it that way before, and the realization was all at once a point of pride and a weight that she only just now knew she’d been carrying.

“So then I’m everypony’s hero or something?” she asked, feeling a little embarrassed even as she voiced the question.

Glowstone snickered. “Well nopony wants to say it out loud, because nopony wants to be that guy, but yeah, a little bit.”

“You’re already that guy,” she said with a laugh. “You’ve told me that I was your hero at least four times this week. One of those times was in the last five minutes of this meal.”

“That was for purely romance-related accomplishments, though,” he said with a boyish little huff. “Anyway, forget about that stuff. How about we get some drinks tonight? We can celebrate you getting back on the job.”

“I’m not off med leave for another week,” Twilight pointed out.

“And if we drink hard enough it’ll take that long to shake off your hangover,” he said with a wry grin.

“Well I don’t know about drinking that much,” Twilight said with a chuckle. “I did really like that cider I had last time we went, though, and it would be nice to get out of the castle for a while for something other than dinner with my parents.”

“Hey, maybe we’ll get into another fight,” Glowstone said, his voice bright with excitement.

Twilight merely groaned in the face of her friend’s child-like enthusiasm for something as seedy as a barroom brawl. “That’s just what I need, to get yelled at by Cadance for getting into a hoof-fight before I’m even cleared for full duty.”

Whatever teasing comment Glowstone had prepared was lost as his smile withered. He leaned over in his chair, craning his neck to look at something behind Twilight.

All at once she realized that he wasn’t the only pony looking up from his meal. The polite murmur that usually filled the room had died so suddenly that she hadn’t even noticed, and every set of eyes was looking towards the entryway. She turned and found what everypony was looking at.

A pegasus mare stood in the door, her coat a bright yellow and her mane and tail a coltishly cut, two-toned affair in shades of orange, like the color of flames. She wore a pair of pitch-black sunglasses, pushed up on her forehead so everypony could see her eyes scanning the room slowly. The mare’s sight settled on Twilight, her eyes narrowing slightly as she fixed Twilight with a hard, disapproving glare.

Twilight stared back, confused as to why she was getting the stink-eye from a mare she’d never met, but not willing to show that it bothered her. She stared back coolly, answering in kind whatever silent challenge was being levied at her. She could sense that others were looking at her now, the entire room having realized what the newcomer was staring at. Twilight refused to be the first to break eye contact, but she could imagine the looks on the faces of her fellow guards as they looked between the only two mares in the room.

Was this some kind of intimidation game? Surely this other mare wouldn’t be stupid enough to start a fight against a guard inside the castle, inside a crowded mess hall filled with half the Royal Guard’s day watch, no less.

Suddenly, the other mare tsked with a sharp little suck at her teeth that curled her upper-lip, and pulled her sunglasses back down. She turned and walked away without a word.

“The hay did you do to piss off Spitfire?” Glowstone asked as soon as the other mare was out of sight.

“Spitfire?” she repeated, frowning at the familiarity of the name as she turned back to her companion. “Wait, Spitfire as in the Captain of the Wonderbolts? That was her?”

“You’ve never seen her before?” Glowstone asked, his eyebrows shooting up a little in surprise.

Twilight shook her head. “I’ve seen her on posters and at shows, but never up close or out of uniform.”

“If you’ve never met her before, why was she mad-dogging you so hard?” he wondered aloud.

The mess hall filled with a light buzz as the rumor-mill quietly spun up. Twilight did her best to ignore the sound of fuel being thrown onto the fire.

“What was she even doing here?” Twilight wondered aloud.

“She comes down from time to time to eat with us when she has business in the castle,” Glowstone explained. “It doesn’t happen often, but I met her a couple of times. She’s never been one to be… like that, as far as I’ve seen. She’s usually really laidback unless she’s barking orders at recruits. You must’ve pissed in her oatmeal or something.”

“I think I’d remember crossing a Wonderbolt,” Twilight said with a snort.

“Maybe she thought you were somepony else?” he suggested.

“Yeah, she confused me with the other female Royal Guards on active duty in the castle,” Twilight said with a roll of her eyes.

Glowstone tapped his spoon sharply on his plate. “Mean,” he chastised her, though the smile on his face and the cheer in his voice indicated that he wasn’t actually offended.

“Either way,” Twilight continued with a chuckle, “I don’t want any trouble, so I think I’m just going to do my best to avoid her.”

“You don’t want to find out what got in her bonnet?”

Twilight tugged a napkin from a dispenser and began distractedly wiping down the table around them. “I don’t exactly relish the idea that a pony like that might have a grudge or something with me, but I don’t see how it affects me much. We’re different branches of the service. You said she comes down to eat sometimes, but other than that, how often am I going to bump into her?”

“You might see her at functions and such,” Glowstone pointed out. “She’s a celeb, and you’re dating a princess. You’re bound to bump into one another some time down the line.”

Twilight paused in her frantic scrubbing at a bit of graffiti some jokester had penciled into the table. He was right. There was a good chance of Twilight and Spitfire bumping into one another at a fancy ball or some such thing. That meant that eventually, she’d have to find out what that look was about and deal with it.

But that could wait for another day.


* * *


Twilight walked the short distance from her parents’ house back to the castle. It wasn’t a long walk, as her father’s prominence in Equestria’s intelligencia afforded him the opportunity to buy property in one of the nicer areas of Canterlot. Cadance had been invited to dinner, but her duties as a princess had to come first, and some big-wig from Griffoundland was in town to discuss the fishing rights for a lake that Twilight had never heard of. Being the daughter of proud fisherponies, Cadance had felt it was her duty to take the reins on the negotiations. Princess Celestia, in keeping with her recent policy of letting Cadance take a bigger role in governing, gladly left the matter in her niece’s capable hooves.

Of course, that didn’t stop Twilight’s mother from getting all pouty about it. Apparently she’d gone into the basement and dug up some old slides of Twilight as a baby that she wanted to show off. Twilight had never been more thankful for griffon obstinance in all her life, and she was already trying to think of a way to bribe her dad into hiding the box of slides before the next time they were supposed to have dinner together.

Twilight was supposed to meet Glowstone for drinks after his shift, once he’d had a shower and a quick dinner, but she was in no hurry. The sun had already set, and despite the fact that the changing of the guard took place over an hour before officially appointed sunset, owing to the long summer days, she had plenty of time. Glowstone would no doubt primp and gussy himself up for their little night out. Although this would only be her second time actually accompanying him, Twilight had borne witness to his pre-drinks primping several times over the past few weeks.

“What if I meet somepony I like?” he’d whine as he spritzed himself with a subtle cologne that would be drowned out by the ambient funk of sweat and booze as soon as he stepped into the bar.

“You won’t,” she’d tease, rolling her eyes. The kind of soft, frilly mares that he professed to favor – and he was quite verbose on the subject – wouldn’t be caught dead in the kind of bars he frequented. At best, he’d just try to find the prettiest girl in the bar and hit on her as a matter of sport.

“But what if I do?” he’d counter hopefully.

The streetlights lit her path as she walked along, smiling at ponies dressed for their own nights on the town. A pair of guards on city-patrol caught her eye and nodded to her. While the Guard’s primary concern – especially in Canterlot – was protecting the princesses and the interests of the crown, the Royal Guard did take an important role in helping law enforcement across Equestria by assisting in police work. Canterlot’s regiment was one of the largest in the nation, and so a few units were always dedicated to patrolling the city, day and night.

Twilight returned the nod to the guards as they passed, with added interest in the form of a smile and a wave. She was in a good mood and was willing to spread a little of the cheer around.

Aside from the still-mysterious visitation from the Captain of the Wonderbolts, it had turned out to be a fairly good day. Cadance had been busy all morning, giving Twilight a large window in which her self-appointed overseer was preoccupied.

Twilight had spent the morning going through training drills, running the small obstacle course on the training grounds, and getting a little hoof-to-hoof sparring with some of the other guards on physical-training schedules. She’d had two glorious hours of physical exertion before she had to cut it short due to a prior engagement.

The evidence of her little rebellion was quickly washed away with a hot shower and a thorough scrubbing before she had to meet Cadance for brunch. Or at least she’d thought she’d scrubbed it all away.

“You smell like sweat,” Cadance had commented as she dunked a biscotti into her mid-morning tea.

Twilight had almost nervously confessed the whole charade on the spot, thinking she’d been caught red-hoofed, but Cadance didn’t pursue the matter beyond a slight narrowing of her eyes and a clearing of her throat. Twilight had spent the rest of the snack – she still refused to call brunch a meal, no matter what Cadance insisted – surreptitiously trying to sniff herself.

After that, she’d gone back to her room to kill some time until dinner and to stow her weapon away. Despite the fact that nopony else in Equestria could use her chakram the way she could, her mother insisted that the weapon not be brought to the dinner table. It wasn’t a big deal to obey her mother’s wishes on the matter, especially since she was planning on going straight to the bar from dinner and probably wouldn’t have been allowed to carry the weapon into the establishment.

Twilight heard somepony call her name just as she turned the corner and stepped onto the Main Street promenade that led up to the gates of Canterlot Castle.

“Hey, Twilight!”

Twilight squinted into the distance to find Glowstone standing beneath a streetlamp, reared onto his back legs and waving enthusiastically. He trotted up to meet her and held a hoof out. She had to suppress the urge to laugh as she caught a whiff of his subtle, musky cologne.

“I thought I’d be the one waiting for you,” she said as she returned the gesture and bumped his hoof with her own.

He reached up to check if any of his long mane had escaped from the wide cloth hairband keeping it at bay. He fussed with the strip of bright red cloth, tugging at the knot with his magic – which was a bright emerald green that matched his eyes – until he was satisfied with some imperceptible adjustment he’d made.

“I decided to skip seconds,” he said as he led the way down the street. “I’m going to fill up on bar pretzels.”

“The really salty ones?” she asked. “It’s my understanding that those are on all the tables as a way to get you to drink more. The saltiness makes you thirsty, so you order more drinks, but the alcohol doesn’t hydrate you either, so it’s just an endless cycle of dehydration meant to trick you into buying more rounds.”

Glowstone frowned, shooting a confused look to his friend as they turned a corner and headed down a less-crowded street. “What? What do you mean alcohol doesn’t hydrate you? Isn’t beer made with water?”

“Well, yes, the primary ingredient in beer is water, but we’re talking about the alcohol in that water, aren’t we? Alcohol disrupts the pituitary gland’s ability to secrete anti-diuretic hormones, which regulate your body’s ability to retain and absorb water. Plus, your body is just flushing water out of your system trying to break down the poisons you’re ingesting – alcohol is a mild poison, if you didn’t know. Combined with the salty snacks, you get tricked into drinking more and more without ever slaking your thirst. This is also why sporting events and concerts offer cheap, salty comfort foods and expensive beer if they’ve got the license for it – so you’ll buy more drinks from the concession to go with your snacks.”

Glowstone’s silence was enough to turn Twilight’s head. The stallion had a pained look on his face as he chewed his lip and stared ahead blankly. She could almost hear the screeching, metallic whine of gears turning in his head.

After a long period of silence that lasted two more streets and a turn down a long alleyway, Glowstone finally managed to think of a reply. “You really take the magic out of getting drunk,” he sighed.

“My brother is the Element of Magic,” she quipped. “I’m just the mare that reads too many books.”

Their shortcut through the alley brought them to a small, poorly lit street. They were on the very outskirts of the shopping district now, and the streets here were small enough that the streetlamps were placed further apart than on the more traveled boulevards. Much of the light came from the moon shining directly overhead, and from the windows of ponies milling about in the upper floors of shops where they most likely lived.

There was a saying about Canterlot that went something like: “You can find anything in Canterlot, as long as you’re willing to look for it,” and it was true for the most part. Backstreets such as this one were often the type of place you only went if you were ‘in the know’ about some topic or other. The shops and kiosks in this district were mostly specialty stores selling very specific things to very specific clienteles – there weren’t very many ponies that had need for foreign alchemy ingredients, or a store that only sold hoof-crafted figurines of puppy dogs with humorous captions written on the base.

Ambling their way down the street ahead of Twilight and Glowstone was a small knot of stallions and mares, laughing and bumping into each as they made their way to the bar. The group’s voices were a politely low murmur echoing off the walls of the narrow street as Twilight and Glowstone walked behind them. The group was a half-a-block ahead and increasing the distance with every second in their haste to get to the watering hole.

It wasn’t long before the raucous group reached the alleyway leading to the bar and turned the corner with excited hoots and cheers. A few moments later, Twilight and Glowstone also turned the corner.

The Rough House was, quite literally, a hole-in-the-wall type of establishment. The doorway still bore the signs of when the entrance was a just a hole knocked into a brick building, leading to a backroom speakeasy. A hundred years ago or so, Canterlot had had a brief flirtation with prohibition as a result of some busybody noble deciding that she didn’t like alcohol after waking up to find a drunken sailor sleeping on her lawn. A number of small speakeasies like the original Rough House had opened up around the city as a result. Thankfully for the booze-loving populace of the city, public sentiment quickly led to pardons for the bootleggers and a repeal of the prohibition ordinance.

The owner of the Rough House, a retired soldier named Dirty Dancer, whom Twilight’d had the pleasure of meeting on her last visit, came along a few decades later to reopen the place as a legitimate bar. He’d turned the pub into a watering hole for military personnel of all branches in Canterlot, and as such the name was well earned. The romance of the bootlegger’s lifestyle had no doubt led to the stallion’s decision to permanently board up the front door, and make the old ‘secret’ entrance in the alley into the main entrance.

Twilight snickered when Glowstone held out a hoof and stepped forward to politely open the door for her. He’d done the same the last time they’d come, and she gave the same exaggerated curtsy as before.

The bar was just like she remembered – hot, and the air was thick with the smell of spilled drinks and secondhoof smoke. The ceiling fans did precious little to counteract the heat of dozens of ponies huddled together around the crowded tables, effectively doing nothing more than churning the accumulated tobacco smoke that hung overhead. There was a pinball machine and a pool table at the far end of the bar, with a few ponies hovering around the area awaiting their turns. The clack of pool balls and the chiming of the pinball’s bells were only faintly audible over the noise of ponies trying to be heard over the volume of the surrounding conversations. A beat-up old jukebox sat next to the bar, valiantly trying to add some atmosphere to the room in the form of a Sapphire Shores cover of an old love ballad.

Glowstone stepped inside behind her, taking a moment to breathe in the heady aroma, before making a beeline straight for the bar. Twilight followed, vaguely aware that some of the ponies in the room had stopped their conversations to watch her and Glowstone. She recognized a few of them as being fellow guards, but a disturbing number of the ponies that seemed to recognize her weren’t familiar faces. Here and there she was picking up her name popping up in the ambient noise of the room, and more and more ponies were looking up from their drinks.

“Hey, Dirty,” Glowstone called as he swaggered up to the bar and pounded a hoof against the wood. “Happy to see me?”

“I been happier,” the old earth pony replied as he slapped Glowstone’s hoof away and wiped at the spot on the bar. He shot a look at Twilight and nodded. “Good to see you again, though, Twilight Sparkle.”

“You remember my name?” she asked, genuinely surprised.

He grunted. “I remember the name of every pony that gets into a fight in this bar.” He ignored the embarrassed flush in her cheeks as he pulled a couple of mugs from the racks behind him. “No worries. I ain’t mad, nothing got broken except that poor boy’s pride, so you don’t got nothing to settle up.”

“I’ll have a beer,” Glowstone said, cutting straight to the chase. “Twilight wants a cider.” He turned to confirm and smiled at Twilight’s nod. “Yeah, cider for her.”

Dirty Dancer poured their drinks with the consummate skill of a professional, and within seconds their drinks were on the bar before them.

“Hey, Dirty!” called a voice from across the bar, drawing the attention of half the patrons along with the bartender. A middle-aged pegasus stallion sat on a bar stool next to the pool table, waving a wing to catch the bartender’s eye. “That one’s on me!”

“Thanks!” Glowstone shouted as he waved at the stallion.

“Not you, Glowstone!” the stallion shouted. “I meant for the Decurion!”

The room erupted into laughter at Glowstone’s expense, but Twilight felt that she was the more embarrassed of the two. She waved back timidly and the stallion lifted his mug off the edge of the pool table and tilted it in salutation.

Twilight and Glowstone grabbed their drinks and headed for a recently vacated table at the far end of the bar. As they wound their way through the tables, more stallions, and even a few mares, nodded and lifted their mugs to Twilight as she passed.

“Good to see you back on your hooves and out of your quarters, Decurion,” one of them said.

“Better watch yourself tonight, Glowstone,” another stallion warned loudly enough to be heard by the surrounding tables. Twilight recognized him as another Decurion named Trailblazer. “You keep your hooves to yourself or Princess Mi Amore might have you tossed in the dungeon.”

“I’m a perfect gentlestallion!” Glowstone protested.

A mare sitting on a stool, leaning sideways against the bar, held her hoof to her mouth and shouted: “And it better stay that way or the princess is gonna wear your balls for earrings!”

A fresh wave of laughter rolled across the bar, accompanied by the clanking of mugs and hooves being beaten against the tables. Even Glowstone managed a laugh as he and Twilight took their seats. As soon as they were seated, Glowstone wasted no time in snatching a few crunchy pretzels from the bowl in the middle of the table.

Twilight was glad to be in a corner of the room. She’d always hated being the center of attention. It reminded her of her days giving presentations in classrooms back at the academy. Her mind drifted back to the day she’d gotten her Cutie Mark, to the memory she’d been shown by Anubis’ curse, and she squashed it flat. Those memories were mortifying enough without the added baggage of magical death curses.

“Does everypony know about me and Princess Cadance?” Twilight asked, slouching a little in her seat to try and hide self-consciously behind the large mug of cider. She cast a glance at the mare who’d taunted Glowstone from her barstool. “I’m pretty sure a lot of these ponies that recognized me aren’t Royal Guard.”

Glowstone chugged from his own drink, letting the mug fall with a drawn out sigh of satisfaction as he wiped the foamy mustache from his lip. “Word’s getting around, especially here, where the other guards mingle with friends of theirs from other branches. And it’s not like you were keeping it a secret.” He leaned forward, his head tilted curiously to the side. “You weren’t keeping it a secret, right? Because, I mean, you did a really poor job of it if you were.”

Twilight had to admit, he wasn’t wrong. The one time that Cadance had tried to sleep in Twilight’s quarters came to mind. Twilight had been settling in to spend the night reading when she’d gotten an unexpected knock at the door. What she had thought would be Glowstone with a report about some cute mare that he’d been this close to getting into the sack, had turned out to be Cadance looking to surprise her girlfriend with sleepy cuddling. There had been no way that the other guards would’ve missed one of their princesses sashaying through the barracks to have a late night rendezvous.

After that, they hadn't even bothered trying to hide their relationship from the staff and guards in the castle. Twilight had become a regular guest in Cadance's bedchambers, and the guards perpetually stationed outside her door didn't even bother asking her business anymore. At most they'd exchange a curt nod or a quiet salutation of "Good morning," or "Good night," depending on the time of day. However, all that was inside the castle, which was essentially their home. Somehow, seeing it being discussed openly and outside the confines of the castle gates, had taken her aback, if only momentarily.

“I know we weren’t really keeping it a secret…” Twilight sighed. She took a sip of her cider, letting the crisp, sweet taste smooth out her frazzled nerves. She really did like this hard cider, maybe even more than the regular stuff she’d been drinking since she was a filly. “Guess it’s just weird that this is another thing that’s gotten around so quickly, and outside the walls of the castle, no less.”

Glowstone banged his mug on the table excitedly, some of his drink sloshing over the lip and spilling on the table. “Are you kidding?” he asked. “Of course it’s getting around! Do you even realize how flippin’ jealous you’ve made every single enlisted pony – mare or stallion?”

Twilight blinked owlishly. “Jealous?” she repeated.

“Yeah, girl! You couldn’t swing a dead cat in here without hitting a pony that had at least had a crush on Princess Celestia growing up. And you’re actually dating one of the princesses? You’re literally living every enlisted pony’s pubescent dream!”

Twilight shifted uncomfortably at mention of ‘pubescent dreams’. She’d only ever admitted to the military shrink doing her psych eval – and to Princess Celestia that one time, kind of – that she’d had the sort of dreams that Glowstone was implying, but that was all in the past, thankfully. Things would get a little awkward at the dinner table if she was still having those sorts of dreams about her marefriend’s aunt, considering one of her other aunts had the power to enter the dreams of others mostly undetected. Though something told her that Princess Luna wouldn't mind if she starred in a few of Twilight's adult dreams.

“Watch it, Glowstone,” Twilight warned as she sipped at her cider. “That’s your princess you’re talking about.”

“I’m just saying,” Glowstone replied, raising his hooves up defensively, “that it’s incredibly unfair that you’re hogging all the princesses to yourself.”

“If you’re so interested, I could always put in a good word for you with Princess Celestia next time Princess Cadance has me eating dinner with her family,” Twilight offered. She cracked a smile at the mild panic that started in his eyes and spilled over until it took over his entire face.

“Not everypony’s got the kind of mythic courage you do, Sparkle,” he muttered into his mug.

Twilight snickered and let the issue go, feeling that her small victory was win enough.

As the night wore on, Twilight found herself with several empty tankards on the table between her and Glowstone. She hadn’t planned on having more than a mug or two, but other ponies kept having drinks sent to her. Dirty Dancer had assured her that the running count was enough that she could drink the whole night and not have to pay for a drop out of her own purse.

Despite the seemingly endless stream of free rounds, none of the other patrons had come by the table. Aside from occasionally meeting the eyes of a pony across the room and exchanging a nod of thanks, it had been just her and Glowstone sitting together, joking around and having a good time. She was even starting to feel a little better about randomly picking her name up out of the constant buzz of barroom conversation.

After a while, Twilight found herself nursing her fifth cider, while Glowstone had gotten distracted on his way back from the bathroom by a very shapely earth pony mare at the pinball machine. The last time she’d been out drinking – which had been her first time out drinking – she hadn’t had the chance to make it this far into the night, and she was pleasantly surprised to find that her tolerance was actually pretty high. She was definitely feeling a slight, tingly warmth in her extremities, but she wasn’t suffering from any of the textbook indicators that she was inebriated beyond the legal blood-alcohol content levels.

She lifted the empty mug and placed it, upside down, next to the others as she raised a hoof to signal she was ready for another. Before she could even call out, a fresh mug was slapped onto the table in front of her. She turned to thank the bartender for his prompt delivery, but to her surprise, the pony serving her wasn’t Dirty Dancer.

“Mind if I join you?” Spitfire asked in an even tone. She pulled out a chair and took a seat without waiting for the invitation. “You look like you could use some company, what with your buddy over there chatting up that chick at the pinball machine.”

It took a moment for Twilight to register what was happening through the slight filter of the alcohol. Spitfire, the Captain of the Wonderbolts, had sit down at her table and started drinking with her, when only that morning she’d been glaring silently at Twilight from across a crowded room. There had been no mistaking the animosity or challenge in the other mare’s eyes that morning, but there was none of that in her face now. Spitfire was avoiding eye contact, staring at something on the wall directly in front of her, but definitely watching Twilight out the corner of her eye as she sipped from her tankard.

At the very edge of her senses, Twilight could recognize a tension filling the room, and a note of urgency in the surrounding chatter. Over the course of the night the room’s occupancy had changed, but there were still enough ponies that had been present for breakfast in the guard’s mess that word was getting around.

Twilight’s eyes immediately went towards where she’d last seen her friend. Glowstone was still trying to sweet talk the girl on the pinball machine, but he was shooting little glances back at the table, keeping an eye on the situation and trying not to show it.

“Drinking cider, huh?” Spitfire asked. Her tone was conversational, but there was a cold edge to it, like she was biting back what she really wanted to say. “Never liked the stuff myself. It’s a wuss-drink.”

“Everything C.G., Decurion?” asked a stallion at the next table. He was a Legionary from Trailblazer’s unit who had taken his C.O.’s seat when the other Decurion had gone home to his family.

Twilight may not have recognized every Legionary by name, but she did know all the other Decurions and the ponies above them. A quick glance around the room told her that once Trailblazer had left, she had become the highest ranking Royal Guard in the room.

“We’re just having a drink,” Spitfire said without looking back. Her voice was soft, but carried across the room with the authority of somepony who was used to being heard. It was clear that she was addressing the crowd as much as the stallion that had spoken up.

The guard at the next table ignored her. “Ma’am?” he asked as he met Twilight’s eyes. He tilted his head subtly in Spitfire’s direction.

“We’re Condition Green,” Twilight replied, trying to affect a little of Spitfire’s authority into her own voice. “The Captain and I are just chatting. No need to disrupt anypony’s good time.”

He grunted. “Just whistle,” he added as he turned back to his drink and whatever conversation he’d been having. His ears twitched in a way that indicated that he was keeping alert without trying to eavesdrop, and the ponies sitting with him were a little stiffer as well.

“Your boys are looking out for you,” Spitfire chuckled humorlessly. “That’s good. Usually don’t see that kind of loyalty towards a C.O. that’s only been on the job a month.”

There was a hint of something like accusation in Spitfire’s voice, and Twilight didn’t like it, but she didn’t rise to the bait. This was as good a time as any to find out what Spitfire's issue with her was, and she wasn't about to waste the opportunity.

“Do they need to look out for me?” Twilight asked as she took a hard chug from her drink. “I thought we were just sharing a drink.”

“Of course they don’t, and we are,” Spitfire said with a dismissive fluffing of her wings. “We’re just a pair of officers commiserating over a couple mugs of something stiff. I just wish we had some cigars so we could complete the stereotype.”

Twilight looked into her mug and watched the frothy cider swirl around. “And what would we be commiserating about?”

“This and that,” Spitfire answered, sloshing her tankard from side to side. Her eyes went hard for just a moment as she turned to Twilight, but the edge was gone as quickly as it came. She raised her drink and held it out. “How about responsibility? As a fellow officer, I’m sure you understand the meaning of that word.”

Twilight frowned, again unhappy with the attitude that Spitfire was taking with her. She lifted her mug and clinked it against Spitfire’s. “To responsibility, then,” she toasted diplomatically.

They each took a shallow drink and set their mugs down.

The moment of silence after the toast was long and uncomfortable, and Twilight almost yearned for the discomfort of tense discussion. Even Spitfire’s venom-laced conversation would have been better than itchy feel of silence that had gone up around them like a veil.

She glanced over towards where she’d last seen Glowstone. He’d managed to talk the pinball girl into playing a round of pool with him, and he was standing behind her, half checking out her rear and half keeping an eye on the situation back at the table. He caught Twilight’s eye and tapped his nose with his hoof, silently signaling that he was still watching.

“Hay of a thing that happened to you,” Spitfire said, breaking the tension.

“What do you mean?” Twilight asked, already not liking where she thought this conversation was heading.

“That thing that happened to you in Zebrica,” Spitfire said with a thump of her hoof against the table. “All kinds of crazy stories popping up about it.”

“I’ve heard a few,” Twilight admitted.

“So which one is it, then?” Spitfire asked. “The one with the hydra? The story about the sewing contest? The griffons? Which one’s the truth?”

A few of the ponies sitting nearby perked their ears at the question.

Twilight inhaled deeply and took a hard swig of her cider. “I’m not at liberty to discuss that, sorry. But you’re an Air Force Captain, I’m sure you could get your hooves on the action report if you requested it.”

Spitfire’s mouth pulled into a tight little line. “You’d think that, wouldn’t you?” she spat. “But the funny thing is, the action report’s got the Seal of the First Spear on it. A file sealed by the Captain of the Guard is above my pay-grade, so the only way I’m going to hear the story is if I hear it from you.”

“Then I don’t know what to tell you,” Twilight replied.

Was that what this was all about? She was angry that she couldn’t get clearance to read an action report? She couldn't just be one of the rumormongers trying to get more of the story out of her. It didn’t make any sense.

“You can tell me what I want to know,” Spitfire growled through clenched teeth.

Twilight shook her head. “You of all ponies in here should know that I can’t talk about something I was ordered not to talk about.”

“Don’t give me that line! I’m not asking you to print it in the paper, I just want you to tell me what the hay happened over there!”

“And I’m telling you that I can’t!” Twilight shouted back, her temper finally getting the better of her. “And I am not defying orders just to acquiesce to the request of somepony who’s talking to me the way you are!”

“Don’t you brush me off like I’m some pimply-faced Private!” Spitfire shouted as she pointed a hoof in Twilight’s face. “I’m the Captain of the sun-damned Wonderbolts! I’m not going to sit here sucking up to you just because you came back from overseas with a princess on your arm and a big, badass scar on your flank!”

Twilight’s eyes narrowed at the accusation that she was talking down to anypony, or expecting for anypony to suck up to her. Spitfire had been nothing but hostile before they’d even met, and the mare had finally tread on Twilight’s last good nerve.

Twilight lifted her mug and chugged what was left in it, flipping it upside-down and setting it on the table with the other empties. “Thanks for the drink,” she said in a measured tone as she climbed off her seat. “I think I’ve had enough for the night.”

Spitfire, it seemed, wasn’t so willing to let things go.

“Yeah? You sure you don’t want one for the road?”

Twilight saw the mug being lifted, but the alcohol had dulled enough of her reflexes that she couldn’t do anything to stop it. The warm ale in Spitfire’s half-empty pint hit her in the face, stinging her eyes and plastering her mane against her head. Some of the ale had gotten into her mouth, and she spit it onto the floor as she wiped the brew from her eyes.

All around her she heard the sound of scraping chairs as ponies leapt to their hooves. She wiped at her eyes, clearing away the last of the blurriness, and found that the entire bar had risen as one. Everypony was glaring at everypony else, having chosen sides in the conflict and divided themselves accordingly.

“No fighting! Everypony stand down!” she demanded. She shot a glance towards Glowstone, who had already crossed half the distance between the game-area and their table, his horn alight with some spell he was in the midst of casting. Without another word she stepped towards the door, giving Spitfire a wide berth as she passed.

“Don’t you turn your back on me!” Spitfire barked as she leapt from her seat and placed a hoof on Twilight’s shoulder with the lightning-quick reflexes of one of Equestria’s fastest pegasi.

Spitfire was fast, but even with the booze slowing her down Twilight was pretty quick herself. She shook off Spitfire’s grip and turned, bringing up one of her rear legs and kicking the pegasus in the barrel hard enough to send her skidding across the floor. Twilight made for the door again, only to be tackled from behind by a golden blur.

Twilight and Spitfire tumbled across the bar, knocking over chairs and tables as they wrestled, punching and kicking one another in close-quarters combat. Neither wing nor magic came into play in the melee, just hooves and headbutts as they tossed each other around the room and rearranged the furniture.

The assembled crowd tried to jump in and pull them apart, but anypony that got too close was shoved away with a push of magic, a counterspell, or a slap of a muscular wing. Neither combatant wanted to use their advantages against one another, but they had no problems using them to keep others out of the fight.

Spitfire put on a burst of speed, lunging forward as Twilight reared up to assume an upright fighting posture that better utilized forehoof strikes. They tumbled again, with Twilight slamming onto her back with a hard slap against the stone floors and Spitfire looming over her.

With a grunt of effort Twilight pulled in her back legs and kicked up, hitting Spitfire in the gut and pushing her against a wall. She quickly climbed to her hooves and rushed up to the other mare, who was leaning upright against the wall, holding her stomach with a pained expression. Twilight reared up and put her arm across Spitfire’s throat, her fetlock applying just enough pressure to discourage resistance.

“Stop. Fighting. Me.”

“Think you’re so damned tough, do you?” Spitfire laughed, her voice reduced to a wheeze as Twilight constricted her windpipe. “If you’re so hard, how come you couldn’t even keep one old stallion safe?”

Twilight’s eyes went wide, the words hitting her harder than any of the punches she’d taken in the fight. One old stallion? Was she talking about Sky Chaser? What did she know about Sky Chaser?

The moment of distraction was all it took for Spitfire to lift her leg and return the favor regarding the kick Twilight had given her. Twilight stumbled back and fell to her haunches, clutching her belly and squeezing her eyes shut to try and overcome the urge to vomit the full payload of cider she’d consumed.

Spitfire didn’t let up. She gave one last punch, dropping Twilight to the ground. Before Twilight could get up, Spitfire cantered towards the door with a slight limp.

“Put whatever we broke on my tab,” she said to Dirty Dancer as she shoved her way past the crowd and into the alley. A few of the Air Force pegasi followed her out.

Twilight shook herself off, clearing the stars from her vision and rising to her hooves just as Spitfire disappeared out the door. She felt somepony step close to her and tensed up, her fight-instincts still leaving her twitchy. She relaxed as she realized it was only Glowstone.

“Dude, you had her,” Glowstone whispered as he pressed against her side to steady her. “What’d she say that shook you so hard? You looked like you saw a ghost.”

Twilight waved off his concern and pushed him away. There was a warm, wet feeling running down her muzzle, and she reached up to find that her nose was bleeding from the cheapshot that Spitfire had taken after the fight. She wiped it tenderly and spit a glob of blood and saliva onto the floor. Unsurprisingly, she saw there was more than a few red stains splattered on the ground that she hadn’t noticed before.

“Nothing I can talk about,” she explained as she headed for the door.


* * *


A cloud of steam followed Twilight out of the private bath in Cadance’s chambers. She pulled off the towel she’d wrapped her mane in and gave herself a final buff to shake off the last of the moisture from her shower.

“That feels much better,” she sighed.

Finally dry, she flung the wet towel over the back of a small settee in front of Cadance's makeup dresser. Like most everything else in the room, the chair was a soft pink color, and was covered in white, frilly lace doilies that served no purpose other than decoration. The light-blue shimmer of Cadance's magic gripped the towel and carried it back into the bathroom, dropping it into a linen basket for the maids to wash.

“I’ll bet it does,” Cadance remarked from where she laid on the bed.

Twilight gave her mane a flick and cantered over to the bed to climb on. Her attempt was halted by hoof from Cadance.

“Nuh-uh,” Cadance said with shake of her head. At Twilight’s confused expression she leaned forward and sniffed at her girlfriend. “Okay, you don’t smell like a brewery anymore, so I guess you can come into my bed.”

“You’re so very kind,” Twilight huffed as she leapt onto the bed.

“You know,” Cadance began with a grin, “when I decided to get involved with another girl I thought to myself, ‘Well at least this way I won’t have to worry about my partner stumbling home late at night, reeking of booze and bloody from streetfighting’. Guess you showed me.”

“She started it,” Twilight grumbled. She used her magic to pull a large book from the nightstand drawer that Cadance had said she could have, and laid across a pillow for support as she began reading.

“And that, my dear, is why you get to sleep in bed with me instead of down in the barracks,” Cadance said with a cluck of her tongue.

“I couldn’t just walk away after she put her hooves on me,” Twilight grumbled as she flipped through the book to find her place. She still felt the need to justify herself, even though Cadance wasn't giving her the grilling she'd been expecting the whole walk back to the castle.

“Yeah, yeah, I know, your knightly spirit was set ablaze by the affront to your honor,” Cadance teased. “Just in the future, please wait until you’re not recovering from a near-death experience before going out and getting into a fracas with other professional soldiers.”

“I’ve been trying to tell you that I’m better already, but your concern is noted all the same,” Twilight sighed.

Twilight smiled as she felt the familiar weight of Cadance draping herself over her back, using her like a pillow. There was a quick bout of wiggling on both sides as they worked to fit their bodies together, but it was a familiar position for them both by this point and they managed it without much trouble. Once they were settled in, Twilight felt a sudden tug at her damp, messy mane as Cadance bunched it up with her magic and began to run a brush through it.

“Do you at least feel better now that you’ve gotten a little exercise?” Cadance asked.

“A lot better, actually,” Twilight admitted, chuckling in embarrassment. “I still don’t know what the hay her problem was, but it did feel good to just… cut loose a little bit.”

Twilight stared blankly at the open pages of her book. She still hadn’t told Cadance about what Spitfire had said to her in the final moments of the fight. Even despite the reassurances Twilight had passed on from her meeting with Sky Chaser in the realm of dreams, Cadance still fostered some guilt over the death of the old stallion. There was no reason to bring Cadance into the loop on that particular part of the altercation until Twilight had more information about what – if anything – Spitfire knew.

Had Spitfire known Sky Chaser? Was that the source of the animosity she’d shown Twilight? Spitfire at least seemed to know something about the airship captain’s death, or at least enough to blame Twilight for it.

She winced, sucking air through her teeth as Cadance’s brush found a knot in her mane.

“Sorry,” Cadance apologized as she used her magic to gently work out the knot. “I just get worried, okay?”

“You don’t have to worry about me, I’m a big, tough girl,” Twilight assured her. She felt another tug at her mane that was just firm enough that there was no mistaking that it was intentional.

“You’re not that big,” Cadance pointed out. She set the brush aside and began plaiting Twilight’s mane into a loose Prench-braid. “I know you’re a guard and I’m your princess, and it’s your job to throw yourself face-first into danger for me – but I’m also your girlfriend, and it’s my job to worry about my cuddly little silly-filly.”

“Sometimes you act more like a foalsitter than a girlfriend…” Twilight grumbled.

“Stop acting like a foal and I’ll stop treating you like one.” Cadance leaned forward and gave Twilight a soft peck atop her head. “What have you been reading, anyway?”

Twilight levitated the book off the bed, turning it to show the cover. “A book on teleportation spells.”

“Teleportation? That’d certainly be useful if you ever decide to break both your legs again.”

“I didn’t break them,” Twilight protested. “I just… banged them up a little… And yeah, that was my thinking as well. It’s a super useful spell for combat if I can get it down. I never really had the confidence to give it a try before, but after what we went through, I think I can handle pretty much anything if I put my mind to it.”

Cadance reached a wing forward, gently caressing Twilight’s cheek with the tips of her feathers. “I think so, too, hon,” she said fondly.

Twilight flushed at the gentle touch. By this point she was no stranger to Cadance’s feathers, as her princess had proven herself to be extremely touch-oriented when it came to communication. Even still, the thrill of every affectionate act was still as fresh as their first, and Cadance could still color Twilight’s cheeks at the drop of a hat.

Cadance tied the braid off with a ribbon and some pins. “There, all done,” she declared as she set the brush on the table and summoned a small mirror from her dresser.

Twilight looked up from her book and checked her reflection with a coo of appreciation. Cadance seemed to really like braiding her hair, and frankly, Twilight liked getting her hair braided. She’d never been one for hanging out with the girls or going to sleepovers, and it was nice to lay in bed with Cadance and do froofy things with such a froofy girl.

Cadance put the mirror away and pulled a book from the nightstand on her side of the bed.

“What’re you reading?” Twilight asked. She craned her neck around to get a good look at the book.

“Trashy romance,” she said simply as she held up the dog-eared paperback. On the cover was a stylish portrait of a mare in an enormously poofy dress, swooning atop a cliff with crashing waves and a sunset in the background. The wilting dame on the cover would have fallen over the edge of the cliff were it not for the sturdy grip of the muscular stallion holding her in his arms, his long mane billowing in the breeze. He was wearing a loose, vaguely pirate-ish blouse that was torn to scraps and appeared to be held on by good intentions alone.

“Is it good?” Twilight asked with a raise of her eyebrow.

“Good? No. But it is pretty sexy.” She wagged the book and flashed a hopeful smile. “Ya wanna read it with me?” she sang.

Twilight smiled and put her own book away. She patted the spot on the bed next to her and put down a pillow for Cadance to lay on.

“That sounds like the perfect way to end the day.”


* * *

> Chapter 2 - The Storyteller
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Twilight awoke to find herself tangled up in the limbs of her marefriend. Cadance, who was an alicorn and therefore a head taller than she was, always seemed to end up pulling Twilight close to snuggle her in the middle of the night. It may have been a bit undignified, but Twilight wasn’t about to complain about it. Waking up to feel the warmth of her girlfriend’s body pressed against her more than made up for whatever dignity she traded in the exchange.

The blackout curtains covering the glass doors leading to the balcony were shut, keeping out any ambient clues as to the time of day. Her magic yanked on the chain of a lamp on the table across the chambers, near the sitting area with plush pink couches and floor cushions where Cadance entertained guests to her room. The small lamp cast just enough light to drive back the shadows without waking her bedmate. Twilight checked the clock and found that sunrise had already come – barring any unexpected foalnappings, that is. The combination of alcohol, physical exertion, and staying up late reading dirty romance books, had kept her asleep long past when she normally awoke.

With the measured, gentle touch of a safe-cracker, Twilight extricated herself from Cadance’s surprisingly firm grasp and wiggled herself off the bed. Cadance groaned in displeasure, her hooves languidly searching for the missing source of body heat. Twilight breathed a sigh of relief as she managed to get up without rousing the other mare, Cadance could get a little grumpy in the morning, and considering she was probably on thin ice after the events of the previous day, Twilight just didn’t want to take any chances.

Twilight took a moment to be silently thankful that she at least wasn’t hungover. Knowing that she would be going to the bar later in the night, she had made sure to drink plenty of water at dinner. She’d also had the presence of mind to request a protein and carbohydrate rich menu when her mom had asked what she wanted for dinner. As such, she was spared the worst of the alcohol’s deleterious effects.

Her jaw was a bit sore, though, from where Spitfire had gotten the last word in during their altercation. It had been a pretty good shot, but the sting to her pride for letting herself get shaken in the middle of a fight hurt much worse than the actual punch.

She set the matter aside for the moment and put Spitfire out of mind. There’d be time to settle that score later, as the more pressing matter at hoof was the hunger pangs she was feeling.

Twilight tapped her chin as she considered the time. Even if she woke Cadance now, it would be too late for them to meet up with Celestia and Luna for the morning repast. Going to eat alone in the mess hall was out of the question, and definitely wouldn’t do anything towards winning her points with her lady.

She looked back to her girlfriend’s sleeping form. In the absence of anything to cuddle, Cadance had bunched the blankets up and clutched them tightly to her chest. A thin trickle of drool puddled on her pillow, which explained the slightly damp sensation against Twilight’s cheek. She smiled and wiped at her face with a corner of the sheets until she felt dry.

Breakfast in bed – that’s what the situation called for.

Twilight walked to the door and stepped out into the hallway. There was never any need to lock the doors, not with two burly earth pony guards posted outside the bedroom at all hours of the day.

“Morning, boys,” Twilight said with a yawn. “Quiet night?”

“All clear since we’ve been on, ma’am,” one of the guards replied.

“Good, keep an eye on the princess, I’m going to go get her some breakfast,” Twilight said as she began walking away.

“Wait, Decurion.”

Twilight paused and turned to see what they wanted. “Yeah?”

“There was a messenger here this morning looking for you,” the other guard informed her. “You were still asleep, but he said it could wait until you woke up and left the message with us.”

“A message?” she asked. “Who’s it from?”

“Princess Luna. She requests your presence in her study at your earliest convenience.”

“Guess that means no breakfast for me,” Twilight sighed. “Could one of you head down to the kitchens and request room service for Princess Cadance?”

The first guard saluted crisply, clicking the shoes of his back hooves together smartly. “Ma’am!”

He cantered down the hallway in the direction of the kitchens and disappeared around a corner.

Twilight ignored the grumble of her belly and trotted off in the opposite direction from the kitchens. The guard still standing sentry at the door cleared his throat in a none-too-subtle way.

“Yes?” she asked over her shoulder.

“Permission to speak freely, ma’am?” the Legionary asked. The corners of his mouth turned up into a small grin at her nod of consent. “Your mane is very cute like that.”

Twilight blinked. She reached up and felt her mane to find that it was still tied in a braid from the night before, though a few strands had come loose as she slept. She cleared her throat.

“She… uh… likes to braid my mane…” Twilight explained sheepishly.

“You don’t have to explain anything to me,” the stallion assured her. “My husband likes to braid my mane, too. That’s why I started cutting it short.”

Twilight smiled. “Don’t think that’d work for me,” she quipped, “I don’t have the cheekbones to pull off a shorter look.”

She tugged the braid loose, pulling away the ribbon and pins with her magic and teleporting them back into Cadance’s room with a small flare of magic. Twilight took a moment to be proud of herself for performing the spell so flawlessly. Summoning objects to oneself was the simplest form of teleportation, but sending them back was several orders of difficulty above simple summoning. Teleporting herself or other living things would be even more difficult, but she was mastering the steps one at a time, and it showed that she was making progress in her self-studies.

Twilight shook her head, freeing her mane of the single, long plait Cadance had woven it into. She fluffed her hair out a little to erase the last vestiges of the braid before turning to the other guard.

“How’s it look?” she asked.

“Like you just got out of bed, ma’am.”

She considered going back into the bedroom and taking the time to properly sort out her mane situation. It wouldn’t do to answer a summons from one of her princesses with a shabby mane. Although, keeping Luna waiting any longer than necessary would also be rude.

In the end, Twilight settled for what she felt was the lesser of two transgressions.

“Well, hopefully the Princess of Dreams will be inclined to excuse a minor case of bed-head,” she said with a nervous chuckle.

She left the guard to his post and continued on. Along the way she passed the chambers that Prince Blueblood used when he was visiting. He wasn’t in residence currently, so his room was unguarded and only periodically checked by patrolling guards. The prince was a descendant of another of Princess Celestia’s adopted family members, and luckily he spent very little time in Canterlot. He preferred to stay at his villa in the countryside, making the trip to Canterlot only to attend lavish functions and wallow in the excesses of high society.

Twilight had only met him once since she’d lived in the castle, but it was enough time spent in his presence to make her agree with Cadance’s assessment of him. Blueblood was harmless, but foppish – amusing in small doses, but downright obnoxious in large. It was actually a bit fascinating that such a good looking stallion could be so effete and delicate. All the same, he was generally sociable, and good company so long as there were other distractions so his attention wasn’t wholly focused on one pony.

Further down the hall and around a corner were Princess Celestia’s private chambers. Celestia’s room was guarded at all times, regardless of whether or not she was in residence, as her room also contained her personal study. There was no end to the sensitive correspondence and paperwork contained within, and Celestia was very selective about who she allowed into those chambers.

The unicorn and pegasus pair standing outside Celestia’s room stood at attention as she passed, showing no sign of recognizing her other than a quick “Good morning, Decurion,” from each of them. She returned the greeting and continued down the long hallway in the direction of the stairwell leading to Luna’s chambers and study, which were on the floor above.

Once at the top of the stairs, it was a straight shot to Luna’s room. The two unicorn guards on sentry duty at the double-doors of the princess’ room stood a little straighter as she approached.

“Decurion Twilight Sparkle here to see Princess Luna at her behest,” Twilight informed them. The last time she’d been summoned by a princess came to mind, and she added, “Sorry about not being in uniform, I’m still on medical and they haven’t issued me a new set of armor yet.”

“We know who you are, Decurion, ma’am,” the guard on the left said. “She said to send you right in when you got here.”

The guard on the right turned and banged his hoof twice on the heavy wooden door. They waited a moment, then each guard opened one of the doors with a tug of magic, allowing Twilight entry.

The room that Luna had claimed for herself had once been the quarters of the Royal Astronomer – a post that was currently held by her father, Night Light. Only a few decades before, Canterlot had been changed by the introduction of an electrical grid, which had led to something that her father’s predecessor had coined as ‘light-pollution’. The old Royal Astronomer made such a squawk about the difficulty that electric lights made of his work, that a fancy new observatory was built on the other side of Canterlot Mountain. After that, the room had gone unused until the return of Princess Luna.

Princess Luna had only been free of the affliction of Nightmare Moon for less than a month, but it was clearly a month well-spent. What had once been a storage room filled with crates and antique furniture shrouded in dust-covers, was now a lavishly decorated room done in gentle blues that stood out beautifully against the white marble walls. Luna’s chambers were a polar opposite to the bright, girlishly frilly décor of Cadance’s room.

Already the room was showing signs of the occupant’s personality. Scattered about the study were piles of books, magazines, half-chewed quills, and a veritable sea of paperwork.

“Twilight Sparkle!” Luna greeted as she stepped through a curtain that no doubt led to her sleeping area. “It is good that you could finally join Us.”

Twilight dipped her head into a low bow, as decorum dictated when she was out of uniform. “I’m very sorry to have kept you waiting, Your Highness, I slept in a little later than I usually do. I was up late.”

Luna smiled impishly – far more impishly than somepony as old and powerful as she was had any right to – at Twilight’s explanation. “Enjoying the pleasures of Our night with Niece Cadance, were you?”

Twilight maintained her genuflection, if only so Luna couldn’t see the blush on her face. “We were just reading, honest!” she explained, her voice louder than she intended, as seemed to be customary when addressing one of her princesses.

Luna laughed at Twilight’s embarrassment, her humor expressing itself as a quiet, dignified little titter that would have seemed disingenuous from anypony else.

“Be calm, Twilight Sparkle, We speak only in jest,” Luna assured her. “And please, rise already. The top of your head is very cute, but We wish to speak face-to-face.”

Twilight rose, a nervous smile playing across her lips. Cadance had brought her along to several meals with the other two princesses, but this was the first time she had been alone with Luna outside of their first meeting, and that had been in the realm of dreams. That meeting had also turned more flirtatious than she might have anticipated, and hearing the princess comment on the cuteness of her head put her just a little on edge.

“I was told you wanted to speak with me,” Twilight said, hoping to change the subject.

“Indeed, there are several things that We wish to discuss with you.” Luna’s horn came to life, glowing with a beautiful icy-blue light. A low table materialized near the glass doors leading to the balcony, where the heavy blue curtains had been half-drawn to allow just enough of the morning light to fill the room without being intrusive. “Please, join Us for a drink, if you would be so kind,” she invited with a wave of her hoof towards the table.

As they approached the table, Luna summoned a pair of cushions from somewhere in the clutter of papers and books. Twilight waited for the princess to be seated before taking the cushion opposite her.

Two large porcelain cups were on the table between them, as well as a huge coffee pot, and a few trays with biscuits and pieces of fruit. The sight of the food made her stomach constrict again, but it thankfully remained silent.

“We hope iced coffee is agreeable to you,” Luna said as she served the drinks. “We have taken quite a liking to it since Our return.”

“Coffee is my favorite thing, Your Highness,” Twilight said. “I’ve never had it chilled before, but I’m sure I’ll love it.”

Luna’s happy smile fell just a bit at something Twilight had said, but she spoke again before Twilight could ask what was wrong.

“We also apologize for the mess,” Luna said with a sigh. “The maids are quite well-meaning, and lovely girls, but We have much studying to do in order to acclimate with modernity, and they have not yet learned to respect Our system of organization. It is preferable to forego their services, than to have them cause disruptions in Our efforts of self-betterment. Once We are not so woefully unlettered in this new era, We shall endeavor to see to their edification, but that shall have to come later.”

“I know exactly what you mean,” Twilight said as she picked up her cup. “Cadance ‘surprised’ me by organizing the books in my room a couple of weeks ago. I know she means well, but she tried to sort them by alphabetical order according to the titles. Can you believe that?”

Twilight sipped the coffee, letting the cold bitterness fill her mouth. It was bracing, and delicious, and coaxed a contented hum from her as she drank. She set the cup down and wiped her mouth politely with a napkin.

“It pleases you?” Luna asked. She smiled widely at Twilight’s nod. “Wonderful. Please, do not hesitate to partake of the victuals We have provided. We are quite certain you have not yet broken your fast.”

Twilight didn’t need any more invitation than that. She levitated one of the big, buttery biscuits up to her mouth and took a bite. She washed it down with some coffee, and chased the coffee down with some of the fruit.

Luna sat quietly, sipping from her iced coffee and looking out onto the balcony while Twilight had a quick snack. She opened the balcony doors, allowing in a soft breeze that billowed the curtains and filled the room with the fresh scent of flowers from the gardens below.

“Much has changed,” Luna commented quietly as she poured another cup. “Sometimes We can scarcely believe that this land is still called Equestria. The discovery of coffee, the invention of radios and electricity, and the myriad of other advancements Our ponies have made in Our absence… it’s all so strange.”

Twilight dabbed the napkin at her mouth, pushing away the plate of fruit she’d been picking at as she considered the princess’ words. “I can imagine. But those are mostly good things, yes?”

“Oh, indeed,” Luna said with a laugh. “Coffee is ambrosia fit for royalty and commoner alike, radios are endlessly entertaining, and electricity gives light that has allowed Our ponies to enjoy the night in a way they never could have in the days before it.”

Luna reached up, brushing back her ephemerally drifting mane unnecessarily. Twilight had once asked Cadance why her own mane and tail hair didn’t have the same properties as the other two alicorns. Cadance had explained that Luna and Celestia’s manes were a reflection of their powers, and at one time didn’t have that strange, undulating form. Twilight wondered if maybe the small act of brushing away hair that wasn’t there was a thoughtful tic of some sort – a hold over from a time when her hair didn’t dance and shimmer with spectral beauty.

“Things are so different in so many ways, but thankfully the same in the few that matter most,” she continued. “That is not to say that We do not love these new wonders, or think them unimportant. We simply mean that the differences between now and a thousand years past are humbling to perceive all at once… We can’t help but envy Sister for being present to take it all in with sips as they came.”

Luna lifted her cup and took a slow, purposeful sip.

“Forgiveness, please, Twilight Sparkle,” Luna sighed. “Our age is showing.”

“It’s alright,” Twilight assured her with a smile. “I’m always happy to lend an ear to one of my princesses, Your Highness.”

Luna’s face scrunched up cutely, as though she wasn’t sure whether she wanted to smile or frown.

“You have listened to Us speak of Our troubles before,” Luna said slowly, as though she was beginning a line of reasoning. “You have proven yourself loyal, kind, courageous, and skilled… Even Sister speaks of you in the highest regards. Not to mention, you have also proven yourself of worth enough to woo one who is of Our noble house.”

Twilight couldn’t refute any of what Luna was saying, but every compliment and assessment of her character deepened the discomfiture she was feeling. “Once again, you’re being very kind, Your Highness.”

“We speak true, as We do in all things,” Luna said, punctuating her point with a thump of her hoof. “There are several matters We wished to speak of this morning, but there is one of importance above others, as it is something of a… personal nature.”

Luna stared for a moment, struggle clear in her eyes as she considered her next words.

“We… We were freed from the Nightmare’s thrall by the Elements of Harmony,” she explained, her voice slow and cautious, as if it were a hoof she was dipping it into a bath to test the temperature. “Friendship was Our deliverance, and Shining Armor has been tasked with plumbing the depths of its power… We, too, wish to…” She looked away abashedly, chewing her lip like a nervous filly. “We… I… was wondering, if perhaps you would grant me the boon of your friendship.”

Twilight’s jaw hung slack at the request. A moment later she realized she was staring, mouth agape, and she closed it with a snap. Princess Luna wanted to be her friend? It was quite a surprise, but on further thought, it wasn’t even remotely as surprising as the revelation that Princess Cadance had wanted a more personal relationship with her – and Princess Luna wasn’t asking for anything nearly as intimate as Cadance had.

She almost laughed at Luna’s fidgeting. The silence and the wait for a response was clearly wearing on her, and she kept casting furtive, nervous glances at Twilight out the corner of her eye.

Finally, Twilight found the will to speak again. “I’d be incredibly honored to be your friend, Luna.”

Luna let out a long, deflating sigh, the tension visibly leaving her body. “Thank the stars. I knew you were the right pony to ask. You even anticipated my wish to call me by my name before I even had a chance to request it.”

“Cadance is the same way,” Twilight said, finally unable to hold in a small laugh. “Out in public, it’s business as usual – a princess and her guard – but if it’s just us behind closed doors? She yanks my ear if I make a slipup and call her Princess Cadance.” Twilight leaned forward, grinning as she dropped her voice to a conspiratory whisper. “Just between you and me, though, I do it on purpose sometimes, because I kind of like when she pulls my ears.”

Luna laughed. It wasn’t the small, aristocratically restrained laughter she’d allowed herself before, but a loud, sharp peal followed by a throaty chuckle.

“Oh, excuse me, please,” Luna said, holding a hoof to her mouth. “I had thought you too shy for such lusty humor. I was caught unawares, which is something that happens infrequently when you grow to my age.”

“Sometimes the mood strikes me,” Twilight admitted as she had another drink. “I’m nothing like my friend Glowstone, but I’ve been told that I can be very puckish.”

“I shall keep it in mind, my friend.” Luna’s smile faded away, her face dimming to something more neutral. “Sadly, I am afraid that, with that out of the way, we should probably speak of the other matters at hoof. I have need of your services in an official capacity, but as my… friend, I wish to ask it of you as a favor, rather than an order.”

“Anything, Luna,” Twilight said immediately. Twilight was always willing to help a friend in any way she could, and the way Luna had phrased it, she needed something done that required Royal Guard work. If anything, the chance to return to full duty in any capacity only served to grow her fondness for her new friend.

“I had hoped you would say that,” Luna said, her smile returning. “First I should ask what you know of bat ponies.”

Twilight blinked. “Bat ponies? I know a little, but admittedly not much. They’re a type of pegasus, aren’t they?”

Luna nodded. “They are indeed pegasi, however, they are – as their name suggests – nocturnal, and differ from other pegasi in several ways. For instance, their wings are more likened to bats than the avian appendages of other pegasi, and they also have highly developed night vision, adorable little tufts of hair on their ears, and the cutest little fangs.”

Twilight raised an eyebrow at Luna’s gushing praise over the qualities of bat ponies.

Luna noticed the look and realized that she was on the verge of acting quite silly, so cleared her throat and took a sip of her coffee. “Yes, well, from what I understand, these days they do not associate much with the larger populace of Equestria – not even other members of the pegasus tribe. Their nocturnal nature makes them ill-suited for daylight society, which is a pain that I know all too well.”

“Yeah, you hear stories about bat ponies sometimes visiting big cities like Manehattan to check out night clubs and restaurants,” Twilight said. “It doesn’t happen often, but it does happen. A filly I knew back at the military academy said she met a bat pony once. Said he was nice. I think they ended up as pen pals.”

“They are very nice,” Luna said with a nod. “A thousand years ago, they were among my most fervent supporters. Many of my suitors, those who made up my Night Guard, were bat ponies. They have always held a special place in my heart, and apparently they have not forgotten their Princess of the Night.”

Luna summoned a scroll from a pile of paperwork that appeared to have a desk under it. She pushed the half-empty dishes and coffee pot aside and unfurled the scroll to reveal a map. Luna pointed to a wooded area to the West, tapping it lightly.

“This Is the location of the largest settlement of bat ponies still in Equestria’s borders,” she explained. “The forest canopy is thick enough to block out the sunlight during the day, and the trees provide the fruits and insects that make up the majority of their diet.”

“They eat bugs?” Twilight asked. Twilight was no stranger to the concept of entomophagy. Some of her survival manuals suggested insects as a way to sustain life in an emergency situation, as they were excellent sources of protein. Regardless of the practicality of the act, however, the very idea of eating insects made her feel a bit green.

Luna shrugged. “It is more appetizing than you might think. Chocolate-covered grasshoppers are quite delicious. And keep in mind that they have much the same reaction to the eating of salted fish.”

“Noted,” Twilight said, though she still felt a little queasy.

“The leader of the village has sent correspondence welcoming me back from my exile,” Luna explained happily. “He also says that several of their youngsters have spoken to him about their desire to come to Canterlot in order to serve me. To that end, I will be reforming the Night Guard as my private security detail.”

“That’s good,” Twilight said. “The scuttlebutt down in the mess is that the Tesserarius in charge of night watch has been scrambling to put together a new schedule to accommodate you. Apparently they’re worried about being short-hoofed once you open the Court of the Night to visitors again.”

“Yes, I have already spoken to Tesserarius Ironclad, as well as Centurion Steel Century and Optio Whippoorwill. They were worried about displacing any of the current night watch from their duties, but I have assured them that the Night Guard is only in supplement to the Royal Guard.”

“What’s my part in this then?”

“Your duty will be to visit the village and find those best suited for an accelerated course of Royal Guard training,” Luna explained.

“Sounds easy enough,” Twilight said. “I won’t let you down.”

“I would never have asked if I thought you were anything less than trustworthy, Twilight Sparkle,” Luna said fondly. “However, I would not be so cruel as to send you alone. These are pegasi of a sort, after all. You will be accompanied by a specialist from the Air Force, who will be able to judge the flying ability of any candidates in a way you cannot, just as you can offer insight into the Guard training that she cannot. Between the two of you, I know you shall choose well.”

Twilight’s ears flattened against her head. An Air Force specialist? It couldn’t be. There was absolutely no way, in a thousand, million, billion years, that it could be who she thought it was.

A pair of hard knocks sounded from the door.

“Ah, this must be she,” Luna said.

The door opened and Spitfire swaggered in.


* * *


Twilight sat on a bench at the Canterlot train station, a small duffel bag filled with necessities next to her. She shivered a little in the chill of the pre-dawn morning and regretted her decision to not bring a scarf or coat. The metal of her chakram was freezing cold against her shoulder, even through the stiff canvas of its holster.

It was four o’clock in the morning, and the platform was surprisingly deserted. The only company she had was a few early risers on their way to work outside the city, and an elderly couple that seemed to be tourists. Whether they were coming to or leaving from Canterlot, she couldn’t be sure. They were quietly bickering over something on a brochure the stallion was holding.

Seeing the older couple made her think of her own relationship. Cadance had offered to see her off at the train station, but Twilight had insisted that Cadance stay in the castle, as she didn’t want her girlfriend to miss any sleep just for something so silly. Now, she was beginning to wish she had let Cadance come along.

She sighed, suddenly feeling very lonely. For the first time since they’d started dating, she and Cadance would be more than a short walk through the castle apart from one another. This early on in their relationship, a week seemed like a lifetime to not see each other. Cadance had tried to put a positive spin on it, with cutesy little platitudes like ‘absence makes the heart grow fonder’, and such, but that didn’t change the fact that she’d still miss her mare.

At first, Cadance had not been happy with Twilight for accepting an assignment. They’d had a small argument – though Cadance had insisted it was a discussion, despite the volume of her voice – and it had taken a bit of cajoling on Twilight’s part to get her to simmer down. Twilight had known the fight was over when she’d convinced Cadance to lay down with her. Some gentle petting and promises to be safe, as well as assurances that she would return with souvenirs, had finally won Cadance over.

Twilight couldn’t find it in herself to be upset over having to defend her decision. Cadance was just worried that something bad might happen. The trip to meet with the bat ponies was a simple mission, with little or no danger expected – but that’s what they had thought about their trip to Saddle Arabia.

It had all worked out in the end, though. Cadance had even been in enough good cheer to help Twilight pack her bag for the five-day trip.

Still, while Cadance would be worrying about her, she’d be worrying about Cadance. There was no telling what sort of mischief that girl could get up to, left to her own devices. Hopefully, the rest of the Guard would be able to pick up the slack while she was gone.

Twilight set aside thoughts of worry for her marefriend, who would probably be fine... probably. She glanced around, searching for the other source of her current ill-ease.

Spitfire still hadn’t shown up.

It was an understatement of the grossest proportions to say that the tension was merely ‘thick’ during the briefing with Spitfire and Luna. Spitfire and Twilight had said very little to one another during the meeting, but neither did they protest working together. To Twilight, this was a favor for a friend, and to Spitfire, this was a mission from her princess – as such, neither soldier would turn down the assignment, regardless of who they had to work with.

That didn’t mean either of them liked it.

Luna had sensed the tension, of course. She was too observant not to. After Spitfire had been dismissed, Luna had asked Twilight to stay behind so she could ask what was going on. Rather than lie, Twilight said that they’d met recently and had an argument, leaving out just how physical the disagreement had gotten. Before Luna could ask for more detail, Twilight had promised that she wouldn’t allow it to interfere with their assignment, and that she would take care of it. Luna simply said that she trusted Twilight’s word on the matter and let the issue drop.

Her moment of reflection and the quiet of the pre-dawn were broken by the sound of a steam whistle as the train chugged its way up the mountain. The few ponies on the platform with her gathered what possessions they had and rose from their seats. Twilight joined them and climbed off the bench, pulling the duffel onto her back.

A few minutes later the train pulled to a stop and a small knot of ponies began to filter out of the cars. The group on the platform politely waited for the others to disembark before climbing aboard to find their seats.

Twilight walked away from the group, towards the caboose of the train. Luna had arranged for her to use one of the royal train cars for as far as the line would take them. The bat pony village didn’t have a train station of its own, but it was close enough to a city that did that it wouldn’t be too far of a trek.

The conductor was waiting at the door to the rear of the car and held out a hoof to halt her as she approached. A clipboard hung from his neck by a length of chain, and he lifted it to look over some form before addressing her.

“Name?” he asked.

“Decurion Twilight Sparkle, Canterlot Royal Guard,” she informed him. “I’m on special assignment from Princess Luna.”

Her ears perked at the sound of hooves gently hitting the platform behind her.

“Captain Spitfire, Air Force Wonderbolt. Ditto on the assignment from the princess.”

Twilight turned to find Spitfire standing behind her, a large saddlebag hanging over her back. She had those sunglasses perched uselessly atop her head, and she was wearing a heavy flight jacket lined with fleece. Twilight felt a surge of jealousy at the thought of how warm that coat looked.

The conductor checked his clipboard again, then looked up and craned his neck to get a look at their Cutie Marks. He was no doubt looking over a description of them, and being extra thorough in making sure they were who they said they were.

“When’d you get here?” Twilight asked Spitfire while they waited. It was like pulling her own teeth, trying to be genial with a pony she had the powerful urge to throw under the train, but she’d give it her damndest.

“Since before you got here,” Spitfire said. “Been up on the roof of the station. Perks of being able to fly.”

Twilight didn’t like the thought that Spitfire had been sitting up there watching her this whole time – not one little bit – but she’d promised that her dislike of the rude mare wouldn’t interfere with the mission, and she’d meant it.

The rest of the passengers had already boarded and settled into their seats by the time conductor was finally satisfied with his security check. He stepped aside with a tip of his cap and a wave of his arm. “Watch your step, ladies,” he warned cheerfully.

Spitfire shouldered her way past Twilight and towards the door.

They stepped into the car and took a moment to soak in the ambiance. The car was roughly twice the length of a normal passenger car, with a lavish lounge area, a fully stocked bar, and – thankfully – two sleeping compartments.

The whistle blew and a moment later the train jerked as the engine started them rolling.

“Freakin’ posh,” Spitfire said with a low whistle. “Never been in anything better than First Class. Guess dating a princess comes with a few perks, too.”

Twilight wasn’t sure if it was her imagination or not, but everything Spitfire said seemed to ring with barely hidden contempt – and she was going to have to put up with it for five whole days. Even worse, It was a day-long trip getting to the village, and another day back, so two of those days would be spent trapped in a train car together.

“I’ll take the one at the far end,” Spitfire announced, nodding towards the sleeper compartment at the other end of the train, across the lounge area. “You can take the one on this side.”

Twilight frowned as she watched Spitfire make her way through the car. She couldn’t do this. Not for five whole days. They had to clear the air.

“Spitfire, wait,” she called as she shrugged her bag off her back and trotted to the middle of the car, kicking cushions aside as she went.

Spitfire hesitated for only a moment, but continued on her way.

“I mean it, stop,” Twilight said, her voice gaining just enough edge to communicate that she was serious. “We can’t work together like this. We have to clear the air or one of us is going to smother the other in her sleep.”

That caught Spitfire’s attention. “Sounds like the kind of thing you’d do,” Spitfire muttered.

“What’s your problem with me?” Twilight asked plainly.

Spitfire turned and set her bag down on a couch built into the wall. She reached up and pulled off her sunglasses, folding the arms slowly and placing them in the breast pocket of her jacket.

“Are you going to tell me what I want to know?” she asked. “We’re all alone here, so nopony else has to know that you spilled the beans.”

“You know the answer to that,” Twilight replied.

“Then it’s none of your business why I need to know what I need to know. Drop the subject so maybe we can both be professionals and get this job done without killing one another.”

“You do know what you’re asking right?” Twilight pressed. “You’re asking me to defy an order to not speak about something – something sealed as a matter of national security.”

Nopony had said it yet, but they both knew what was being discussed: treason. Divulging state secrets was one of the very legal definitions of the act. Anything with a seal from the brass that high up was not to be discussed, and it didn’t matter if that secret was a spell to snuff out the sun or Celestia’s favorite color of cupcake icing.

Anubis may have been returned to his realm, but the fact remained that something had manipulated Dingo and a small pack’s worth of dogs into summoning and binding him to mortal flesh. Whether or not the Centurion and Optio agreed with her assessment that the true culprit was still at large, they had decided that the whole thing was need-to-know information, and she couldn’t have agreed more. As far as Twilight was concerned, it was for the best to keep it a secret that an entity of such eldritch might could even be summoned at all. All she needed was for some egghead academic to screw around with magic he barely understood, just to see what it did – some ponies just had more power than sense, after all.

“Isn’t that so convenient for you?” the pegasus spat contemptuously. “You get to be the big fancy hero, with ponies talking you up and making up outlandish stories about how amazing you are, and as soon as somepony asks you for the truth, you get to hide behind ‘Sorry, that’s classified’.”

“I don’t want anypony ‘talking me up’,” Twilight insisted. “Why are you being like this? You’re a Captain in the Air Force, you know what this is.”

“Tell me why, at least,” Spitfire snapped. “Tell me why this is so heavily classified. From what I heard, it was supposed to be a routine foalsitting assignment. You take the veep on a diplomatic mission, you make sure she doesn’t choke on a pretzel or vomit on a dignitary, and then you bring her home. How far south does an operation like that have to go to turn it into a freakin’ black-ops mission?”

Twilight chewed the inside of her cheek in frustration. Spitfire wasn’t letting up, and she wasn’t willing to even meet halfway and explain why she wanted this information so badly. If she was going to get Spitfire to open up a little, she’d have to make the first offering.

“I saw something in the desert, Spitfire,” Twilight explained, her eyes downcast and her voice darkening, “something awful. And meanwhile, Nightmare Moon was back here in Equestria, abducting Princess Celestia and trying to throw our half of the world into eternal night. The higher-ups decided that the world at large didn’t need to know that it had been getting squeezed from two fronts. That file, if it’s sealed as heavily as you say, is sealed because the princesses and the Captain of the Guard want to protect their citizens from it. You’re a soldier, so you should understand as well as I do that the public doesn’t need to know about every single boogey-mare lurking under their beds.”

Twilight wasn’t sure what type of response she’d been expecting, but it hadn’t been silence. She’d given just enough information to clue Spitfire into what happened, without actually saying anything about it, so she waited. Twilight continued to stare at the floor of car, listening to the steady chug of the train as it ambled its way the track. The train whistled, signaling that it was coming to a railroad crossing that interconnected with one of the walking paths leading to the city.

“You’re lying,” Spitfire said, her voice limp, without the bite of contempt it had held since the first time Twilight had heard it. “You’re just… talking it up big. For attention.”

Twilight shook her head sadly. She didn’t like being called a liar, and if it weren’t for the listlessness in Spitfire’s voice, she might’ve taken it as a challenge. Spitfire was just on the edge of believing her. Twilight just had to give it one more little push.

“Princess Celestia trusts me, and so does Princess Luna,” Twilight explained. “And most of all, Princess Cadance trusts me with her affections. You think I could have won their trust if I was the kind of pony who would lie about something like this? They’re better judges of character than that.”

Twilight knew it was a dirty trick to use the trust of the princesses like that, but it was clear that Spitfire would take anything she said with immediate distrust. If Twilight was going to get anywhere in this conversation, she needed to borrow a little of their credibility.

Twilight lifted her head at the sound of Spitfire climbing atop the couch to sit next to her bag. Spitfire let a hoof rest atop her saddlebags.

“So, then… it was something big?” Spitfire asked cautiously.

“The Centurion wouldn’t have classified it if it wasn’t, Spitfire.”

Spitfire sucked at her teeth and looked away. “I know that,” she snapped. “…I know that…”

“Then why the hostility?” Twilight asked. She got up on the couch and sat at the other end, giving Spitfire a respectful distance.

“I’m sorry about all that,” Spitfire said with genuine regret in her voice. “Maybe I was being a little unreasonable, but I did have a reason for my unreasonableness…”

Spitfire began rubbing her hooves together nervously, wearing unsurety over her face like a veil. “I don’t even know where to start explaining… The uh, Air Force, is required to investigate all incidents involving airships with Equestrian registration papers, especially if they happen over foreign skies. The same day you got back and reported your airship had gone down, an investigative team was dispatched to the site to ascertain the cause and condition of the vessel.”

“You investigated the crash site of the Old Mistress?”

“Of course not,” Spitfire scoffed, “I’m a Wonderbolt. Airship regulation isn’t my business. No, some guy from the Equestrian Airship Administration went out to the desert to check it out and pick over… over the wreckage.”

Spitfire’s voice hitched as she spoke. Twilight was starting to get the feeling that she knew where this was going, so she decided to help the conversation along.

“You knew Sky Chaser, didn’t you?” she asked. “That’s what you were talking about in the bar when you said… that thing you said to me.” 

Spitfire’s eyes shut painfully at Sky Chaser’s name. “One day I was just hanging out in my quarters,” she began. “I was relaxing after a hard day of practice for a show we had coming up. I’m just reading a book, thinking about what I wanted for dinner, and I get a knock at my door. I thought it was my squadmate, Soarin, wanting to go get pie or something stupid.”

Spitfire stopped her story to take a deep, slow breath, releasing it with a ragged sigh. She reached into her bags and pulled out a small wooden box, about the size of a music box, covered in scratches and greasy black scorch marks. The little brass latch that held the lid on looked like it had fused together from heat, and it had been pried free from the bottom half of the container, so that it hung loosely from the lid.

“I open the door and there’s some jackoff from the E.A.A. standing there holding this box and a letter written on the General’s stationary.” She held the box against her chest, cradling it gently. “It was surreal, like winning one of those magazine subscription contests. Only instead of a big fat check for a million bits, it’s a letter saying your dad is dead.”

The bottom fell out of Twilight’s stomach. Twilight had already made the intuitive leap that Sky Chaser and Spitfire were related in some way, but she hadn’t even considered the possibility that they might’ve been actually related. She’d just assumed that they had met while in the service, or maybe had a fling or something. Sky Chaser had professed, several times, to have a silver tongue with mares when he wanted to, and it must have been true, at least once, seeing as he did apparently have a daughter.

“He never mentioned…” Twilight began to say. Her mouth was very dry, she noted incidentally. “He talked a lot about himself – a lot. Never mentioned having a daughter, though…”

Spitfire laughed humorlessly, setting the box down on the couch between them. “That makes sense,” she said. “He and mom split up before I was born. He was never around when I was growing up. To me he was just some guy that sent a birthday card and a sack of bits every year… Not that I blame or resent him or anything like that, not with my mom being… well, my mom. I took the first shot I had to move out of house myself, so I can understand how he must’ve felt.”

Twilight stared at the box, wondering at what could be inside. The polite distance she’d placed between them might as well have been a chasm, and Twilight felt the need to give Spitfire a hug, for Sky Chaser’s sake, as much as her own. She held back, though, not wanting to test the limits of how open Spitfire was feeling, lest she risk upsetting her again.

“Guess I’m not going to get a card this year,” Spitfire said with another laugh. A tear rolled down her cheek and she hurriedly wiped it away. “I don’t know why that bothers me so much. Hay, I didn’t even know anything about him other than that him and my mom met back in the service. She was a Captain, like me. Not Wonderbolts, though. She always wanted to be in the Bolts, but some ponies just don’t got the juice. She was a real strong flyer, but slow. Way too slow for some of the tricks in the standard routine.”

“Have you talked to your mom about it?” Twilight asked. “Maybe she could tell you some more about him. She could at least tell you more about how they met.”

Spitfire shook her head. “Ship’s sailed on that. Mom passed last year. Her heart gave out on her while shouting at somepony for cutting the line at the post office… Doctors kept telling her that she needed to relax. I dunno what was wrong with her, but sometimes she’d get this really fevered indignation about stuff. She’d get all red-faced and start grinding her teeth. Just get herself real worked up about almost anything…”

Spitfire turned her head quickly, giving Twilight a guilty look like she’d just been caught doing something embarrassing. “I’m not saying she was bad, or a bully or anything. She did a lot of volunteer work, helped her neighbors, loved foals… she just had a temper like a wildfire when she thought somepony was wrong.”

“I could believe that,” Twilight said, smiling as she reached up to tap at her jaw. “I think that some of her might still be living on inside you, at least a little bit.”

Spitfire winced. “Oof. You sure know how to cut a girl to the bone. Guess I deserve it, though. That was a cheapshot, and I’m real sorry about it.”

“It’s fine, I understand.”

“You know, you are actually kind of tough,” Spitfire said with a grin. She scratched idly at her belly, her left eye twitching a little as she touched a sore spot. “Still a little tender from where you kicked me. I’ve been kicked in the gut by a mule, by a zebra, by a griffon, and now by a unicorn, and I gotta say… the mule kicked me harder, but it’s a damn close call.”

Twilight laughed. It wasn’t the polite, sympathetic laugh you shared with somepony putting on a brave face, but a genuine laugh. The kind shared with a friend.

“To be fair, I have been pretty much confined to a bed for the last month,” Twilight pointed out. “Give me a few weeks back on a regular P.T. schedule to get back in shape, and let me kick you again. I bet I can break that mule’s record.”

“Pass. I’ll tell everypony you broke the record, just don’t kick me again.”

The tension between them had broken, and they sat on the couch, swaying slightly with the motion of the train. At some point during their conversation, the sun had risen. The curtains covering the windows were already opened, and warm sunlight had begun to fill the cabin. The feeling of relief was like a soothing bath, washing away the last vestiges of their resentment towards one another.

“Can I ask something else?” Spitfire asked. “I know you might not be able to say, but… how did he die? Was it when the airship went down?”

Twilight had been waiting for that question. It was inevitable that she’d want particulars on her father’s death. It was, after all, the entire reason for her wanting the full story of what had happened on the mission. There wasn’t much Twilight could tell, and even less that she wanted to say. Sky Chaser had died in a horrible, painful way. Twilight couldn’t fathom somepony trying to tell her that one of her own parents had died in something even half as horrific.

Even still, Twilight couldn’t keep something like that from Spitfire. She owed it to the girl to tell her how her father died, but she also owed it to her to shelter her from the grisly truth of his demise. What’s more, Sky Chaser was her friend, and Twilight felt beholden to the memory of him to put his daughter at ease – to protect her from the full truth of the thing in his stead.

There was also the matter of what she was legally allowed to say to consider. After some thought, Twilight settled on the smallest portion of the truth she could slice away.

“He died in his sleep,” she said. “He was already dead by the time I had to blow up the Mistress.”

“You’re the one that blew it up?” Spitfire asked, her eyes wide with surprise.

“It had to be done,” Twilight added hurriedly. “The engagement intensified and required a commensurate escalation of force.”

“Right,” Spitfire said, nodding slowly. “Shit went downhill so you blew up the hill.”

Twilight blushed. “That’s… the long and short of it, yes.”

“I been there,” Spitfire admitted as she leaned back. She reached out and gently tapped the lid of the box sitting between them. “I should probably sue you, though. The old stallion had a will. Left me everything he owned, but everything he owned was on that ship you blew up. The E.A.A. investigator said this was the only thing that survived.”

Spitfire pushed the box across the couch, and Twilight took it as permission to look inside. She reached for the box slowly and lifted the lid with tender care. The thing may have survived three explosions, plummeting from the sky, and getting roasted in the burning wreckage of an airship, but reverence and the memory of her friend made it feel as fragile as glass between her hooves. The half-melted hinges squeaked loudly as the lid came off, revealing the contents.

Inside was Sky Chaser’s pipe, nestled into a small compartment alongside his other smoking implements. It was nothing special – just a small bit of wood, with a large, round-bottomed bowl extending from a curved mouthpiece about as long as half her hoof’s width – but the sight of it nearly made her tear up. The last time she’d seen this pipe it had been in the dream world, dangling from Sky Chaser’s smiling lips. The scent of orange-flavored tobacco wafted up from the small pouch next to the pipe, and the smell of it was so familiar she almost sobbed.

“Apparently the box is made from some kind of enchanted super wood from overseas,” Spitfire commented. “The thing’s indestructible or something. Guess the old guy really loved that pipe to keep it in a smoke box like that…”

“He used to tap it against his lip when he was thinking,” Twilight said. “Even if it wasn’t lit, he’d just sit there, sucking on it and tapping it on things.”

Twilight looked up from the pipe that Spitfire was staring at her. There was something in her eyes that Twilight couldn’t quite wrap her head around.

“I didn’t know that…” Spitfire admitted as she climbed off the couch. She walked to the center of the car and began kicking cushions into a pile before throwing herself down atop them to stare up at the ceiling. “Guess you knew him better than I did…”

Spitfire was probably right. It was entirely possible that Twilight knew Sky Chaser better than his own daughter did, and the thought of that filled her with a powerful sense of guilt.

“I could tell you a little bit about him, if you want...” Twilight offered.

Spitfire sat up with a start. “What?”

“I didn’t know him long – not long enough to know he had a daughter, anyway – but the old guy loved telling stories. And there wasn’t much else to do aboard the ship aside from listening to him tell tall tales about himself. I don’t have his… flair for yarn-spinning, but I’ve got a pretty good memory, so if you’d like me to try I’m fairly certain I can do his stories justice.”

“You’d do that for me…?” Spitfire asked.

“Of course,” Twilight said with a smile. “If the stories he shared with me belong to anypony, they belong to you. His will said he left you everything he had, right?”

Spitfire nodded mutely.

Twilight cleared her throat and squared her shoulders. “Okay, so, this one time, he was on leave with some of his buddies in the tropics…”

To Twilight’s surprise, the stories came to her easily. She could practically hear Sky Chaser’s voice in her head as she spoke, telling her what to say so she could relay it to Spitfire. Spitfire sat on her little throne of cushions, grinning like a filly getting a Hearth’s Warming present as she listened.

Twilight thought of the other friend she’d made on her journey. What would Basenji think of this? She’d like to think he’d be proud of her. As a diamond dog drummer, he kept his people in touch with their ancestors through oral traditions. He connected generations together through song and music and stories.

As she shared what knowledge she had of Sky Chaser with his estranged daughter, Twilight felt as though she understood a little of what made Basenji tick. Her heart surged with glee as Spitfire laughed heartily at the story, and more and more she felt herself falling into the role of storyteller as she added little flourishes and wild gesticulations to her presentation.

Twilight wasn’t a storyteller like her friends. She didn’t have Basenji’s skill and training, or Sky Chaser’s passion and flair, but she would do her best to do them proud, even if only for a day.


* * *

> Chapter 3 - The Disappeared
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Twilight stood on the balcony of Cadance’s room, the warm night breeze blowing across her coat. She sighed as she stood to rest her weight atop the balustrade, watching the glow of the city lights twinkle softly and fight with the natural shimmer of Luna’s moon. A particularly bright part of the city, downtown, was visible from this spot. It was nearly midnight, but some of the nightclubs and dance halls were just barely getting started.

The wind blew just a bit harder, rustling the pages of the magazine next to her. It was a scholarly journal, and on the cover was an aerial photo of a familiar campsite – the one outside the Necropolis. It had been over three months since Twilight had last seen the place, and it had grown a bit in that time to accommodate the influx of scholars, but she could recognize it easily. The sight of those tents from overhead would be burned into her mind for as long as she lived. The teams of historians and archaeologists – many, or most, of them probably diamond dogs – could be seen as little black dots moving between the structures, carrying artifacts out of the tunnel leading down into the city. For a fraction of a moment, her mind tried to betray her, to transfigure the indistinct dots in the photo into shadowy monstrosities. She didn’t let it.

Twilight turned away from the magazine, unable to stand the sight of it, and rested her cheek against the warm stone. The article, the scholars studying the city, the fact that a picture of the place was on the cover a magazine – it was all just a reminder that time was passing.

She shook her head to clear away the thoughts forming at the fore of her mind like wild storm clouds. Rather than look at the magazine, she instead focused on her chakram. The metal ring spun on its edge in a slow rotation, the moonlight gleaming off its polished surface as it spun, flashing slowly in the night like a lighthouse.

It was only two months ago that she'd returned to her duties, beginning with that short, uneventful trip to the village of the batponies. That lot was currently at the military academy, undergoing a massively accelerated course to prepare them to their new duties as Luna's personal attendants and honor guard.

In that time, Twilight had fallen into an easy, comfortable pattern where she spent her days fulfilling her duties and getting in what training and studying she could to further hone her talents. Most nights she'd come to Cadance's room and they'd spend the last of their waking hours together, sometimes talking, sometimes playing a board game, sometimes just enjoying one another's warmth. It was a good, easy, and mostly uncomplicated life.

The wind blew again, once more rustling the pages of the magazine, the movement at the edge of her field of vision drawing her attention again. She snorted disdainfully and pushed the magazine a little further away with a shove of her magic.

Cadance’s weary voice called to her from the darkened room, breaking Twilight out of her wandering thoughts. “Twilight, what are you doing?” 

“Nothing,” Twilight replied without looking back. “Your meeting finally finished?”

Twilight felt the heat of her fillyfriend’s body as Cadance joined her on the balcony, wrapping a wing around her and snuggling closely. Cadance had removed all her royal trappings – her shoes, her crown, her necklace – and the small amount of makeup she’d put on in the morning had already mostly worn away. Cadance always said she looked her worst at the end of a long day, but Twilight loved it. It was a side of her the public never saw, a side that was just for Twilight and her aunts. Cadance leaned down to give her a quick peck. The majority of Cadance’s lipstick – Peachy Pink Princess was the color she liked, funny enough – was probably left on the rim of a wine glass back in the royal dining room, if the smell on her breath was any indication.

“A bit ago, but I stopped for a quick snack before heading up,” Cadance said. “You okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

They both knew the answer to that question. Cadance silently slid the magazine closer, her eyes fixed on the cover.

“It’s kind of unreal, looking back on it…” Cadance whispered as she ran a hoof over the photo. “The stuff that happened to us down there was… awful… I’ve never been more scared in my life. Even my fight with Prismia wasn’t as scary as all that. Sometimes I can’t believe we managed to get out of there alive.”

“Hey, now…”

“You know what I mean, dum-dum,” Cadance said with a teasing grin. She bumped her flank playfully against Twilight’s, earning a bump back in response. “The thing that really gets me, though, is that the diamond dogs agreed to keep quiet about what really happened. All those poor dogs died in that city, and no one will ever know… The cover story’s already out there and in the books. History will forget about them.”

“Basenji will remember,” Twilight replied with confidence. “That’s his job, right? To preserve the history of his people, even if that history has to remain secret?”

Cadance smiled at that. “Yeah, yeah it is. Their drummers will remember it, and I guess that’s what matters.” She opened the magazine and began flipping to the location of the article. She already had the page number memorized. 

Twilight studied Cadance’s beautiful face as her eyes drifted over the article, reading it in the pale moonlight. Twilight didn’t bother reading over her shoulder. She’d already read the article a dozen times over and knew it word-for-word.

While traveling to Saddle Arabia, Princess Mi Amore Cadenza’s entourage came across a wandering diamond dog and offered him a ride. Tragically, an unforeseen malfunction of the airship’s engines not only killed their captain, but stranded the three survivors of the crash in the desert. They wandered around, luckily stumbling upon a mountain cave in which to escape the desert heat. What a surprise it was for that ‘intrepid trio’ to stumble upon an ancient city whilst simply trying to find a little shade.

It was a simple story, touched up with just the right amount of literary flourish to grab the reader’s imagination. It might have lacked the gravitas of the actual events, or the panache of a Daring Do story, but in the end it was just entertaining enough that the readers would eat it up.

Twilight hated it. It was a piece of fluff writing that portrayed them like cocky foals who'd wandered off from their summer camp, cleverly seeking shelter in a spooky cavern until they were rescued. They'd been called fearless, intrepid, dauntless, and every other synonym for 'lacking fear' the writer could lick out of a thesaurus, but their actual journey into that nightmare had been anything but 'fearless'. Anyone without fear, without respect for the danger they'd been in, would never have walked out of there alive. She might have been overthinking it, but at the very least it felt like it was disrespectful to memory of the experience.

“What’s on your mind?” Cadance asked without looking up from the magazine.

“Nothing,” Twilight lied.

“Twilight Sparkle,” Cadance said, closing the magazine with a slap. Her tone was dangerously close to the same disapproving voice Twilight’s mother spoke to her in, and Twilight was forced to suppress a shiver at that thought. Obviously the two most important mares in her life had been spending far too much time together.

“I think that after three or so months of sharing a bed with you,” she continued, “I can safely say that there is never ‘nothing’ on your mind. You’re the most thinky pony I know, and I can tell something is bothering you.”

“What do you think would be bothering me?” Twilight asked.

Cadance’s eyes drifted towards the chakram – still spinning, still gleaming like a lighthouse in the moonlight. “Is this about that puzzle of yours?”

Twilight flinched away like Cadance had just touched an open wound. Of course she’d figured it out on the first try. Her girlfriend could read her like a book. Maybe it was because of Cadance’s weird empathic magic, or her years of study on mood and behavior, or just some sort of intuition that had formed as part and parcel of the intimacy of their relationship. Whatever it was, it was equal measures of annoying and comforting the way Cadance could tell not just when something was bothering Twilight, but exactly what was bothering her, even when Twilight herself didn’t always know.

“It’s been three months, Cadance… Three months and I’m still no closer to figuring out… anything. This chakram is the only puzzle piece I’ve got right now and I’m getting nowhere with it.” Twilight made a small nasally groan. “I mean look at this thing!”

She thrust a hoof in the direction of the chakram, which continued to dance lazily on the stone balustrade. It ceased spinning and Twilight levitated it into the air in front of them. Telekinetic spells always involved enough energy to give off a highly visible magical aura, or at very the very least a dim shimmer of light. The only indication that Twilight was controlling it was a thin outline along the edge of the blade the pale-pinkish color of her magical aura.

“Look at the aura,” Twilight insisted. “It’s barely there. I’ve been studying this thing for months and I’m nowhere near figuring it out.”

A clipboard was summoned from inside the room with a snap of teleportation magic and she began to read aloud from the annotated checklist she’d spent the entire day going over. “Testing so far is inconclusive as to whether the ease of levitation is because it’s amplifying my magic, or if it’s just making whatever spell I cast on it incredibly energy efficient. I can’t have a control group for experimentation because nopony else can even attempt to cast anything on it without getting a headache. It can pass through a strong shield spell like it’s not even there, unless it’s my own, which does stop it. I’m still unsure of whether this is because of an anti-magic field or some sort of negating property of the metal that I’m immune to, because once again, I’m the only viable test subject!”

She flipped the page with a frustrated huff and continued. “The edge of the blade is dull, but when I’m manipulating it, it slices through the dummies on the Guard training grounds like they’re made of paper. In fact it seems to get sharper the more magic I pour into it. Don’t even get me started on the writing. It’s not Equish, Lambton, Griff, Zebranese, Brayle, Catonese, Manechurian—”

A pink hoof gently pressed the clipboard down. “Shhhh, honey, calm down,” Cadance said soothingly as she stroked her mare’s side gently with the tips of her feathers. Her voice was soft, warm and smooth like the silk covers on their bed. “It’s okay, you’ll figure it out.”

“I know I’ll figure it out,” Twilight murmured grumpily, “the stupid thing’s just not making it easy.”

“It’ll happen, honey,” Cadance said with a laugh. “You’ll solve your puzzle.”

The sound of Cadance’s laughter did wonders for Twilight’s mood. Her stomach had been in knots all day, and her mind was buzzing as she’d thrown herself into her work and the project of studying her weapon. A few reassuring words from her lover, a gentle touch, and a warm laugh, was all it took to wash all that away. Cadance always knew what to say to make her feel better.

Twilight sent the clipboard away and placed the chakram back into its holster at her side. She buried her face into Cadance’s neck, breathing in the scent of her love like she was trying to slake a thirst.

“I love you,” Twilight whispered tenderly. She felt a soft, lingering kiss atop her head in reply.

“Of course you do,” Cadance whispered back cheekily.


* * *


The Grand Galloping Gala was the social event of the year for Canterlot’s upper crust. Celebrities, star athletes, nobles, and foreign dignitaries would flood the castle for one night, hobnobbing and elbow-rubbing one another as though their very lives depended on it. A good appearance at the Gala could make or break a socialite for the entire year, and ponies fell all over themselves to get tickets, then stood up and fell all over themselves a second time in their attempts to make a good impression.

With the Gala only a day away, all of Canterlot was buzzing with activity, and nowhere did it buzz more than in the heart of the city – Canterlot Castle. The kitchens were running at triple steam getting all the fancy snacks prepped and ready, while the cleaning crew ran themselves ragged scrubbing every single inch of the castle and preparing the decorations. Guards were having their schedules rearranged in preparation for double shifts, and the barracks were filled with extra help sent in from smaller garrisons in nearby towns.

None of that mattered to Twilight, though. All she had to do was get through one more day and she was gone – out of the city for the weekend.

She walked confidently through the streets of Canterlot’s Upper District, her armor clinking softly with every step she took as she made her way towards the castle. Two months ago, Twilight had returned from her mission for Princess Luna to find that Cadance had personally seen to it that her new armor was completed and awaiting her. It was a sweet gesture, and Twilight still felt a little bad that the only gift she’d brought back was a bag of dried fruit candy and a painted rock with some googly eyes glued to it. Even despite Twilight’s poor taste in souvenirs, Cadance had loved the candy, and the googly eyed pet rock had earned a place of honor atop Cadance’s makeup stand.

Her new armor was more or less the same as her old, with only a few minor alterations. For one, her galea’s plumage now sported the proper striping, displaying her rank as Decurion for all to see. The barding over her left shoulder had a scabbard for her chakram built right in, and bore the added touch of Cadance’s Cutie Mark as a sign of her post. But most importantly, it was properly fitted to a mare’s body type, which greatly reduced the minor pinching and chaffing that had made it such a chore to wear her old armor for a full day.

“So this is what you do all day?” Night Light asked as he walked alongside her. He was wearing a pair of saddlebags that bulged and strained at the buckles from their contents. The little brass tools he used when charting stars jingled around inside the nest of paperwork in time with his steps, mimicking the clink of her armor. “You just walk around, looking for trouble and escorting old stallions from their homes to their appointments?”

“Well I am a guard,” Twilight laughed. She slowed down a little, taking her time out of consideration for her dad, who definitely wasn’t in the best shape. “I’m doing a very important service for the kingdom. Why, an eminent scholar such as yourself is a prime target for assassination.”

“Whoever would want to kill a doddering old academic like me?” Night Light asked, his voice thickly laced with disbelief.

Twilight shot her father a sidelong look, grinning playfully as she said, “That depends on whether or not you’re still peeing on the toilet seat.”

Night Light chuckled nervously. “That was, uh, your brothers.”

“My brothers who haven’t lived in your house for almost a decade?” Twilight asked, raising an eyebrow in amused disbelief. “What, did one of them take a train from Ponyville and break into the house just to pee on the seat in your bathroom? Is this you reporting a crime to an officer of the law? Should I fill out a report for Breaking, Entering, and Urinating?”

“Fine… maybe your mother might want to kill me, but her occasional mariticidal tendencies stem from a place of love, I’m certain of it,” Night Light reasoned with a sigh.

“That’s good to know,” she replied with a smile. “I’ll be sure to include that in your eulogy. It’ll be a great comfort to the bereaved.”

“Well, as long as they’re comforted…” he muttered.

“So you and mom ready for your trip to Cowgary?” Twilight asked, changing the subject from her father’s bodily fluids before he got a chance to turn it around on her. Her father may have been a serious and well respected academic mind, but he also had a black belt in Dad-Joke Judo.

Night Light nodded. “Indeedy! Your mom’s back at the house finishing up packing. We’re leaving as soon as I’m finished meeting with Princess Luna.”

“Just in time to miss the Grand Galloping Gala, huh?”

“Oh, is that tomorrow?” Night Light asked with a slightly smug grin. “Dash it all, I guess we’ll just have to send our apologies again this year. It’s unavoidable, though, seeing as your mother took that assignment to do a piece on the Cowgary Philharmonic’s new flautist.”

“The Gala can’t possibly be that bad.”

“I’m being dramatic for the sake of humor, I suppose,” Night Light admitted, “but it is extremely bland… and boring… and stuffy.”

“Cadance says the same thing, so I’ll just take your word. We’re skipping out on it, so tonight we’re going to be leaving on a trip ourselves.”

Night Light shot his daughter an amused look. “You take an awful lot of trips, don’t you? What is this, your fifth in the past two months?”

“Those were all business,” Twilight explained. “Princesses Celestia and Luna don’t leave the castle very often, so Cadance sees to most of the royal business that requires a presence outside of Canterlot. Being her personal guard, I have to be ready to accompany her whenever she might need me.”

Night Light frowned, one of his eyes squinting slightly as he mulled something over. “Hm… does that bother you at all?” he asked with a hum of fatherly concern. “I know your dream was always to have a post in the castle… which you do have, but it does seem like you spend more time out of the castle than in it these days.”

“I don’t mind,” Twilight answered without hesitation. “It’s just the nature of my post.”

“It probably takes a little bit of the sting out of it that your post is protecting your fillyfriend, eh?” he asked wryly.

“It helps,” Twilight said as she cleared her throat.

They finally reached the castle’s walls, and the two sentries standing at either side of the gate saluted Twilight at her approach. She nodded to them as she passed, pointedly ignoring the proud grin on her dad’s face.

Twilight scanned the castle’s courtyard, taking note that the kitchen staff was out on the lawn having their post-lunch rush picnic, as they did every day. Their evacuation of the kitchens meant that Princess Celestia would no doubt be alone in the galley ‘sneaking’ her afternoon snack. Twilight had a standing invitation to join Celestia for her after-lunch pastry-pilfery, but it had been a while since she’d taken advantage of the offer. Time permitting, she decided that it would be nice to try to join Celestia for a cupcake or two after seeing her father to his appointment.

A few of the kitchen staff saw her looking in their direction and waved. While Twilight no longer stood sentry at the kitchen doors, Cadance had a notorious sweet tooth – not unlike Celestia’s – and often asked Twilight to make trips down to the kitchens on her behalf, which afforded her many opportunities to get acquainted with the charming ponies that prepared meals for the princesses and the rest of the castle’s staff.

She waved back to her friends from the kitchen before continuing on their way.

“So is this trip also business?” he asked. “I can’t imagine what obligation one of the princesses might have on the night of the Gala. Everypony important enough to have business with them is already going to be in the castle.”

Twilight shook her head. “Nah, this is just a yearly trip she takes to avoid the Gala. We’re going to be going to Las Pegasus to ride out the ‘storm of snobbiness’, as Cadance calls it.”

“Oho, gambling is it?” Night Light said, his eyebrows waggling and his eyes twinkling with interest.

“Calm down,” Twilight chuckled, “you’re just like my friend Glowstone. He’s been trying to teach me Blackjack. While I’ll admit that I am intrigued by the prediction algorithms in card counting systems, I think casinos frown on those. No, Cadance and I are probably going to spend a lot of our time at this place she knows called Ball ‘n’ Chain’s Shack o’ Marriage.”

Night Light stumbled a bit at Twilight’s admission, his jaw going slack and eyes widening in surprise. “Should your mother and I be canceling our trip and booking tickets to Las Pegasus instead?”

Twilight stopped to turn and face her father as she blinked in confusion. “What?” she asked dumbly. She replayed the last few seconds of their conversation in her head and her own eyes widened as she caught the meaning he’d erroneously gleaned from her words. “Oh, no! Oh, Sun above, no! We’re not doing anything like that!”

“You had better not,” he warned her, his voice dropping a few octaves into what she and her brothers always called ‘The Dad Voice’. “If you get some trot-thru marriage in Las Pegasus and don’t at least invite your mother, she’ll murder you. Then she’ll murder me. Cadance she likes, so she’ll probably be safe, but everypony else will be in the cold, cold ground.”

“We’ve only been dating for three months,” Twilight replied, her cheeks flushing hotly.

“There are ponies that go to those places that haven’t even been dating three hours, Sparky,” Night Light pointed out.

Twilight looked around for anypony that might be listening in, her cheeks reddening even more as her father called her by his pet name for her. While Spike and Shining were fine with calling her Twily, it was only because their mother, Twilight Velvet, was always just ‘Mom’ to them.

“Dad, don’t call me Sparky while I’m in uniform,” she whined in embarrassment. “And Cadance and I aren’t even thinking about something like…” her voice dropped to a half-whispered hiss, “…marriage…”

“You know, your mother and I dated for three years before we tied the knot,” Night Light explained with a laugh at his daughter’s obvious agitation, “but, we got engaged after just six months.”

“Wait, you didn’t even date a full year before you got engaged?” Twilight asked, her surprise melting away the lion’s share of her embarrassment.

Night Light shrugged. “Six months was enough time for us to know we wanted to be together.”

“Then why’d it take another two-and-a-half years to make it official?”

“Well, I was still finishing my degree,” Night Light explained. “And your mother was still very career-focused at the time. She was just a cub reporter, cutting her teeth covering small town hootenannies and jug-blowing contests. One day she came home with a big grin on her face, shouting ‘I got an interview with Chaka Flan, I’m a real journalist now!’ and demanded that we send out the wedding invitations that had been gathering dust in our nightstand.”

“Who’s Chaka Flan?” Twilight asked as she began leading them across the courtyard again.

“A singer,” Night Light said simply. “Before your time, but she was a very big deal when your mother and I were young.”

“Oh, well… don’t worry about anything like us having a… one of those…” Twilight sighed. “Cadance is friends with the owners and she just likes watching the ceremonies.”

“Huh, that’s a strange hobby,” Night Light commented.

Twilight tilted her head in a shrug. “She’s the Princess of Love, dad. And whatever makes her happy makes me happy.”

Like all fathers, Night Light loved to poke at his children’s buttons with jokes are their expenses. So when she noticed the mischievous glint in her father’s eye, Twilight knew he was going to say something embarrassing again. Luckily, his efforts were forestalled by the arrival of a timid, nervous voice from behind them.

“Excuse me, Decurion?”

Twilight and Night turned to find a young earth pony mare standing on the lawn just a little off the path. She was dressed in a white chef’s jacket, with a bright red cravat tied around her neck. Twilight recognized her as one of the girls working in the kitchens.

“Good afternoon,” Twilight said in greeting, her voice automatically affecting a more neutral, professional tone. “You’re… I’m sorry, you look familiar, but your name is slipping my mind at the moment.”

The mare pawed at the grass nervously. “We don’t talk much, Decurion, ma’am, sir. My name’s Pepper Millie. I’m really sorry to bother you, but do you have a minute to talk?”

Twilight and Night Light shared a curious look.

“Is it important?” Twilight asked. “I’m in the middle of escorting the Royal Astronomer to a meeting with Princess Luna. Can it wait until I’m done?”

Pepper chewed her lip, looking back in the direction of the other kitchen staff as they continued eating lunch. They were engrossed in a display by one of the waiters as he balanced a huge bottle on the tip of his nose and danced around on his back hooves. None of them seemed to notice that somepony from their group had flagged down a guard.

“I… I’m not sure if it’s important or not… that’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” she said cryptically. “I don’t have a lot of time until we have to go back in, though. We’re really busy getting ready for the Gala.”

“We’re already at the castle,” Night Light interjected. “I don’t need an escort to the princess’ door. I know the way.”

“Are you sure, sir?” Twilight asked.

“Yes, Decurion,” Night Light said with a snicker. “I’ll see you next week when we get back from our respective trips. Stay safe.”

“You, too, sir,” Twilight replied with a smile as her father trotted off into the castle. She turned back to the nervous little mare and frowned. “Okay, did you have something you wanted to report?”

Pepper Millie glanced around nervously, apparently checking to see if they were alone. “You’re friends with Chef Lollipop.”

Twilight blinked at the rather abrupt statement of fact. It was true that she was friends with the pegasus mare who was in charge of making pastries and sweets for the princesses. While all of the kitchen staff were polite and charming, Lollipop was downright chummy with everypony and anypony she met. It also helped that Lollipop’s station in the kitchen meant that she was the chef that Twilight talked to the most while on snack runs to satisfy her girlfriend’s sweet tooth.

“Yes, I am.” Twilight looked back to the group of chefs, scanning around for signs of the mare in question. “Is something the matter? Did you have an argument or something?”

“N-no, nothing like that,” Pepper Millie said quickly. “Chef Lollipop is my friend. But she… hasn’t been to work for the last two days…”

“Oh,” Twilight said, raising an eyebrow. She wasn’t seeing what the big deal was. “Is she sick?”

“I don’t know. She hasn’t sent a messenger or anything saying she’d be out. She just hasn’t shown up for work.”

Twilight rubbed her chin in thought. “I take it the head chef and sous chef know. Has it been reported to the Executive Butler? He’s in charge of penning the schedules of all non-military castle staffers.”

“He’s been informed, but I don’t know if he’s followed through on getting in contact with her yet. There’s a bunch of other ponies in the castle that haven’t reported for work, either, so I think his hooves are full.”

That caught Twilight’s attention. “Other ponies failed to report for work in the castle?”

“Yes. A few of the maids, and a lot of the gardeners didn’t show up, either.”

“Anypony else from the kitchens?”

Pepper Millie shook her head.

“Okay, that’s very odd, but maybe there’s a bug going around,” she reasoned, searching for the simplest explanation first. “They might’ve all caught the flu or something. Everypony’s stressed out with preparations for the Gala, and stress can lower the body’s ability to fight off infection.”

Pepper Millie shook her head again. “I don’t know about the maids and gardeners, but Chef Lollipop wouldn’t forget to send a note, no matter how sick she got. Everypony else in the kitchen thinks I’m overreacting, though… I thought since you were her friend, you might know where she was. Or… maybe you could go check on her? I’ve heard you saying to Chef Lollipop before that you have a lot of freedom to choose your own assignments around the castle.”

Being Cadance’s personal guard meant Twilight had just one responsibility, and that was protecting Cadance while she was outside the castle. As a result, Twilight was perpetually on special assignment and on standby for any time Cadance might need an escort. This meant that Twilight spent her days in Canterlot patrolling the city, walking the castle grounds, or just hanging around with Cadance. As long as she filed a report of her weekly activities with the Tesserarius, she was more or less free to act as she pleased.

“Do you think something may have happened to her?” Twilight asked.

“I… don’t know, but maybe,” the chef said timidly. “She was acting kind of… off, since last week.”

“Off? How so?”

“She was forgetting really basic things in the kitchen, and names – little things. She was just… off. I don’t know how else to explain it.”

“That’s another thing that could be attributed to nerves and professional stress,” Twilight suggested.

“She’s not the kind to crack under pressure in the kitchen,” Pepper Millie stated simply. “I thought about running to report it to the police, but aren’t you supposed to wait seventy-two hours or something before reporting somepony missing?”

Twilight shook her head. “That’s just a myth. An inaccuracy propagated and perpetuated by cheap detective novels. It's based on statistics stating that most missing persons return of their own volition within a seventy-two hour period, but statistics are just statistics. If you suspected she might have gone missing you should’ve reported it immediately.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know,” Pepper Millie said, shrinking away shyly.

Twilight sighed. She was starting to see the reason she’d never spoken to Pepper before this. The poor girl was timid as a mouse. Twilight undid the buckle holding one of her armored shoes with a twitch of her magic and placed her bare hoof on the other girl’s shoulder comfortingly.

“Hey, I’m sure she’s fine,” Twilight said reassuringly, closing the professional distance enough to speak in a friendly tone. “She’s probably just got the flu. Or maybe she met somepony nice and they eloped!”

“She’s friendly, but I don’t think she’s that friendly,” she tittered, nervously giggling at the very notion. “Still… I hope you’re right.”

“Do you know where she lives?” Twilight asked as she let go of Pepper’s shoulder and replaced her shoe. “I’m leaving town tonight, but I can drop by right now and see how she’s doing.”

“She lives with her brother on Sunday Street, in a big orange house with an iron fence around the yard,” Pepper Millie said, her smile clearly showing the relief she felt. “I’d better get back. I still need to finish lunch before we get back to work. Thank you for taking me seriously.”

The timid chef nodded and began to canter back towards the picnic. The cooks and servers were all laughing and gently fanning the waiter who’d been dancing for their amusement, and even from a distance it was easy to tell he looked a little dizzy from spinning so much.

“Pepper,” Twilight called, getting the shy girl’s attention. “You did the right thing reporting this to me. Thank you.”

Pepper Millie appeared to be at a loss for words. She blinked in surprise at Twilight for a second or two, and then smiled brightly. “You know, I always thought you were kind of scary, but you’re not.”

“I’m scary?” Twilight asked in surprise.

Pepper nodded. “Everypony tells those really scary stories about how strong you are, and you’ve got that scary scar over your Cutie Mark. You always seemed nice in the kitchens, but it was still a little intimidating to talk to you.”

Twilight wasn’t sure what to say to that. She was scary? She didn’t think herself any more intimidating than any of the other guards. In fact, considering she was a mare and the other guards were all burly stallions, she always assumed she was the least physically imposing guard in Canterlot.

“I didn’t know I gave off that impression,” she managed to say.

“You don’t, and that was kind of what was scary about it,” Pepper gently explained. “You seem really nice, but even when you’re not in uniform all the big, tough guys get out of your way when you walk down the halls, so I wasn’t really sure… But now I’m glad that I came to you. I’ll make sure to say hello next time you stop by the kitchens, even if I’m super busy.”

Pepper Millie waved goodbye and trotted away again. Twilight returned the gesture, still a little taken aback.

As a guard, a part of her job was to be intimidating when the situation called for it. A professor of hers back in the academy had once said that a good guard could get more done with a sharp glare than a sharp sword. But she also had to be approachable, and Twilight always did her best to be friendly and courteous so ponies in the castle wouldn’t be afraid to approach her with their problems, like Pepper Millie just had. Her job was to protect ponies, not to frighten them.

She sighed as she made her way back across the courtyard to the street. It was something to think about, at the very least.


* * *


Sunday Street was a residential street in one of the nicer parts of town, just at the edge of the Upper District where the rich and influential ponies – including Twilight’s parents – kept their homes. Still, homes in this area were known to be on the higher end of the market, and it was an impressive place to live, even on a castle chef’s salary. Whatever Lollipop’s brother did, it probably paid very well.

The streets here were lined with blocks of tall townhouses, packed together tightly enough to be practically touching. They were painted mostly in yellows and blues of various shades, with the odd cement-gray building tossed in for a tasteful splash of drabness amidst the color. Unlike the neighborhood that Twilight had grown up in, there wasn’t much room for big, welcoming lawns. The yards were just patches of grass, or little gardens fenced off with chicken-wire, sitting on either side of the stoop.

It was a cute neighborhood, but one thing was bothering Twilight. Usually the children of upper-middle class ponies would be in the streets, playing hopscotch and trading hoofball cards while their parents gossiped about the other neighbors. But aside from a few stray cats and the random pony hurrying down the street without so much as a nod, Twilight was alone.

It was unsettling, to say the least.

She’d done her best to convince Pepper Millie that her friend’s absence was just a bad case of the flu – which, in all likelihood, it probably was – because as a guard, her job was to keep the peace and assure the citizenry that they were protected. Despite that, her gut was saying that something else might be going on. Back in Zebrica, her instincts had pulled her out of the fire more than once, and she wasn’t about to distrust them now.

That didn’t mean she couldn’t hope, though.

Hopefully it was nothing. Hopefully somepony sneezed on a drinking fountain and a sizeable chunk of the castle’s staff caught the sniffles en masse. Hopefully everything was fine and she could enjoy her weekend away with Cadance without having to worry about royal business cutting in on their snuggle-time.

“Hey, Decurion!”

Twilight was shaken out of her thoughts by the shout. She looked up to find a familiar pegasus hovering above her head.

“Hello, Captain.”

Spitfire touched down on the street next to Twilight and held out a hoof in greeting. Twilight returned the greeting and bumped her hoof against Spitfire’s – gently, since Spitfire wasn’t wearing armored shoes.

It had been some time since they’d last seen one another, and despite the animosity of their initial meeting, they had parted as friends. As good as it was to see her friend, however, Twilight could see that there was some apprehension in the other mare’s posture – an unsuredness in the way she was carrying her weight that Twilight’s mind had trouble associating with the athletic pegasus.

“So, uh…” Spitfire began nervously. “About that thing… the thing in the papers this week…?”

“Oh, of course…” Twilight said simply, instantly knowing what ‘thing’ Spitfire was talking about. News of the Necropolis’ discovery had filtered down to the regular newspapers. She lowered her voice despite the fact that they were alone on the street. “I still can’t tell you, but… the cover story is at least half the whole truth…”

Spitfire’s jaw worked as she chewed on the inside of her cheek, thinking over this information. Whatever conclusion she reached had her nodding her thanks with a grunt of approval.

“Half the truth is more than none of it, I suppose,” Spitfire said with a wan smile. “Thanks for being as honest as you can be.”

“So what are you up to?” Twilight asked, hoping to get off the touchy subject quickly.

“I just checked into my hotel,” Spitfire replied, the pep in her voice slowly returning. She tilted her head back in the direction of the Upper District. “I’m staying at the fancy place a couple streets over. I was out for a quick fly around the block when I caught sight of a guard that was too shrimpy to be anypony but you.”

“Oh, that’s right, you’re doing a show for the Gala, aren’t you?” Twilight asked, ignoring the jibe. She knew if she let Spitfire get under her skin they’d be at it all day.

“Yup,” Spitfire said with a grin. “Going to show Canterlot a new routine we cooked up special for the Triple-G.”

“Sorry I’m going to miss that,” Twilight said with genuine regret. The Wonderbolts always put on a great show, though she’d never admit that to Spitfire’s face.

“Your princess is ditching the Gala again, isn’t she?” Spitfire asked, catching on quickly.

“Same as every year, apparently,” Twilight replied.

“Hah, yeah, from what I’ve heard she hasn’t been to one in years, and I sure as hay haven’t seen her at one myself,” Spitfire laughed. “I’d skip too, but free grub is free grub. Plus, you know, it’s work and all.”

“Ugh, please don’t say grub,” Twilight pleaded, her face twisting into a sickly grimace. The last time she’d seen Spitfire, the bat ponies had thrown them a big dinner, complete with local cuisine like three-grub salad and praying mantis enchiladas. Needless to say, Twilight’s palate had proven to be far less adventurous than Spitfire’s. “I’ll be taking the sight of you stuffing fried tarantulas into your mouth to my grave.”

Spitfire’s head lulled back, her tongue flopping out of her mouth dramatically as she collapsed onto her haunches and rubbed her stomach.

“Sun above, those ponies could cook,” she moaned.

Twilight rolled her eyes and stepped around Spitfire as she recovered from her mild foodgasm. At least her friend was feeling well enough to joke around again. A few moments later she heard the sound of Spitfire trotting up to her side.

“What’re you up to?” Spitfire asked.

“I’m checking in on a friend of mine. She works in the castle kitchens, and another friend of hers reported that she hasn’t been in to work in a few days.”

“She got a cold?”

“Not sure,” Twilight answered. “That’s what I’m going to find out.”

“Need a wingmare on this?”

“I don’t see the harm in it…” Twilight said after a moment of internal debate. “I’m the only one of us on the job right now, though, so…”

“Hey, say no more,” Spitfire said with a smile, “you’re calling the shots.”

Twilight accepted this with a nod and the pair cantered along in silence. The whole way, Spitfire was glancing around, admiring the neighborhood and smiling in a way that suggested that she rarely saw the city from this altitude.

Lollipop’s house turned out to be the only orange one on the block. The bright paint, the glossy color of a ripe pumpkin, stood out vividly against the muted gray and violet-blue of the houses at either side. True to Pepper Millie’s description, it was also the only house on the block with a wrought iron fence around the meager little yard. The gate leading up to the stoop squealed loudly on rusty hinges as Twilight opened it.

Twilight knocked with a soft tap, the sound of her shoes striking the wood doing the job as well as any door-knocker. While they waited to see if somepony would answer the door she took a look at the mailbox hanging next to the entrance. It bore the names ‘Lollipop’ and ‘Bit Coin’. She lifted the metal flap and peered inside, noting that it was empty, so somepony was picking up the mail, at least.

The sound of frantic steps came from inside. The door opened, revealing a harried-looking, bronze-coated pegasus stallion. His ginger-red mane was in a tangled mess and his eyes were bloodshot and ringed with dark circles that indicated that he hadn’t slept any time recently.

“What is it?” he asked hurriedly. He craned his neck, trying to see around the two mares standing in his doorway. “Did you find her? Where is she?”

Twilight and Spitfire blinked, casting one another worried looks.

“Mister Bit Coin?” Twilight asked, guessing that this stallion was the other pony listed on the mailbox.

“Call me Bit,” he said out of reflex. He shook his head, tossing the pleasantries aside once again. “Nevermind that! Where’s Lollipop?”

“Calm down, sir,” Twilight said soothingly. “I’m Decurion Twilight Sparkle, this is Captain Spitfire. I’m a friend of your sister’s, and I was asked by a mare named Pepper Millie to come and see how Lollipop is doing. Judging from your reaction, I’d hazard to guess that she’s not currently in residence.”

Bit Coin slumped against the doorframe, visibly deflating with a heavy sigh. “So you haven’t found her?”

“All I was told was that she hadn’t been in to work for the past two days. I came right over as soon as I got word that she might not be well.”

The stallion nodded numbly and stepped away from the door. “Then please, come in,” he offered. He gestured them in with a half-hearted motion of his wing as he turned and walked down the hall.

Spitfire moved to enter but Twilight held her back. At the other mare’s curious look Twilight gave hoof signals indicating that Spitfire should keep her eyes open and be aware of their surroundings. Spitfire lifted a hoof and tapped at her collarbone, signaling back her understanding.

The interior of the house was a cheery salmon-pink, and Twilight almost wondered aloud if her girlfriend might have decorated the place. The walls were covered with family portraits and pictures, most of which were of Lollipop and her brother at various points in their lives.

They followed Bit Coin into the living room and their host waved them towards a couch covered in a protective plastic. 

“I’m sorry about the plastic,” he apologized in a tired voice. He nodded at the rest of the furniture in the room, which all had the same protective covering. “Lollipop is a messy eater and she likes to snack on the couch. She says the kitchen gets too hot. Funny thing for a chef to say, right?”

Spitfire and Twilight sat down, the plastic crinkling loudly as they settled into place. Twilight was on duty and had no obligation to remove any part of her uniform, but removed her galea anyway out of respect for her friend’s home and brother. Spitfire reached for a picture on an end table next to the couch and examined it.

“You and your sister look really close,” Spitfire said conversationally, holding the picture for Twilight to see.

The picture was of the two pegasi as foals, laughing together with the carefree abandon of children. Lollipop’s teal coat and red mane – the same ginger-red color as her brother’s – were covered in flour and dollops of cream. Her brother was sitting at the kitchen table, a toy cash register in front of him and an upturned bowl of something that was probably whipped cream sitting on his head like a helmet.

“We’re twins,” Bit Coin said. “She’s been my best friend since the day we were born.” He gave a start, his eyes lighting up with a sudden recognition. “Oh, darn it, I didn’t offer you any coffee or tea. Lollipop will be very upset I didn’t offer her friends something to drink.”

“It’s fine…” Twilight assured him. “You look a little out of sorts, why don’t you have a seat?”

His mouth hung open and he stared, seemingly unsure what to say. “I’m sorry…” he sighed as he climbed into a reclining chair and rocked absentmindedly. “I just don’t know what I should be doing…”

“It would be helpful if you could answer some questions for me,” Twilight suggested. “How long ago did you notice your sister was missing?”

“Yesterday,” he said, rubbing at his eyes sleepily. “I got home from work – I’m an accountant – and she still wasn’t home from the castle. She always gets home about an hour before I do, unless she goes out with her friends or something. She has a lot of friends.”

Spitfire chimed in. “How’d you know she was missing, then?”

“Because she didn’t come home the night before, either,” he explained. “That in itself isn’t too unusual, so it didn’t set off any alarms for me right away. Like I said, sometimes she goes out with friends and she’ll stay the night instead of walking all the way home… but she’s never been gone for two days in a row without at least leaving me a note telling me where she’s going to be.”

Twilight frowned as a timeline began forming in her mind. “Did anypony from the castle get in touch with you? Usually when somepony misses work, a messenger is sent out to check on their wellbeing.”

He shook his head.

Twilight’s frown deepened. Pepper Millie had mentioned that other castle staffers were AWOL, so that could explain why nopony had yet gotten around to checking up on Lollipop. “You’ve reported her missing to the police, I assume.”

“That’s right. That’s what I thought you were here about. When I didn’t see Lollipop with you, I thought…” His voice trailed off, his chin falling to his chest as a tear rolled down the side of his face. He didn’t bother wiping it away. “I’m not sure what I thought…”

Twilight looked to Spitfire, who looked back with worry in her eyes. The good-natured cheer and cockiness the pegasus normally exuded was dimmed as she sympathized with the distraught stallion.

“Do you know a mare named Pepper Millie?” Twilight asked.

“She works with Lollipop,” Bit Coin said. “She visits sometimes. They’re very close.” He looked up and flashed a watery, tired smile. “Lollipop's mentioned you, too, Decurion. She says you’re funny.”

Spitfire snickered nervously and Twilight shot her a reproachful look. The other mare had the decency to look abashed at the inappropriate laughter.

“Yes, well, Pepper Millie was the pony who brought Lollipop’s absence to my attention,” Twilight continued. “She said that she was concerned because Lollipop had been acting strange recently.”

Bit Coin nervously ran his forehooves up and down the arms of his recliner, stroking the plastic with little crinkles. “She has been odd, yeah… For a little over a week… I’m surprised anypony else noticed, but she’s been very… flighty, I guess. Just not completely like herself.”

“Did you ask if anything was bothering her?” Spitfire asked.

He nodded glumly. “She just said it was stress. It’s Grand Galloping Gala season and she always gets a little frazzled this time of year, so I just took her word on it and assumed it was an especially busy Gala.”

“Pepper was under the impression that Lollipop wasn’t the kind to get stressed out over an extra heavy workload,” Twilight said.

“She tries to hide it,” Bit Coin said with a grin, “does a good job of it, too. But we’ve been together since we were born. Nopony knows Lollipop the way I do.”

“Mister Bit Coin—”

“Please, call me Bit,” he quietly insisted. “You’re Lollipop’s friends. Though I had no idea she knew a Wonderbolt…”

“I’m just here with her,” Spitfire clarified with a nod towards Twilight. “Your sister seems like a great gal, though. I’d love to meet her when we find her.”

“Bit, please,” Twilight continued, trying to get them back on track. “I just need to ask a few more questions.”

“Are you going to look for her?”

Twilight shifted in her seat. She and Cadance were supposed to be leaving in just a few hours for a romantic escape from their duties at the castle. She’d only meant to come and find out how Lollipop was doing and confirm that everything was fine, but now it looked like something might have actually happened to the poor girl.

It was a very short-lived conflict, however. There was no way she was going to hang a friend out to dry like that, not even for a chance to get some snuggles in a fancy hotel room. She’d just have to make it up to Cadance later.

“I’ll do everything I can, Bit,” Twilight said, carefully phrasing her response. Back at the academy, in her classes on dealing with interactions with the public, she was taught to never make promises to anypony regarding an investigation. “What can you tell me about Lollipop’s other friends? Places she frequents? Other relatives you have that she might go to if she was having any personal problems?”

Bit Coin didn’t get a chance to answer before the sound of an argument drifted in from the street. There was a general murmur of many voices trying to talk at once, and somepony shouted something too muffled by the thick walls to make out. A moment later there was a knock at the door.

“Um, wait here…” Bit Coin said as he slid out of his seat and plodded numbly towards the door.

“Twilight, this is weird…” Spitfire whispered as soon as their host was out of earshot. “I know you guys in the Royal Guard do detective work sometimes, but this is nuts. This chick is missing.”

“I know, and she might not be the only one. Pepper Millie mentioned that some of the other staff hadn’t shown up for work either.”

Spitfire’s eyes widened. “Ponies working in the castle are being targeted?”

“We can’t be sure of that until we follow up with the other castle staffers, but that’s a distinct possibility,” Twilight surmised with a grimace.

Further discussion was forestalled by the sound of hooves on the hardwood floor. Spitfire and Twilight got off the couch and turned to find that a small crowd had funneled into the hallway and spilled over into the living room.

“What’s going on?” Twilight asked, placing her galea back on her head.

“These are some of my neighbors,” Bit Coin explained. “They saw you come up to my door and they thought that you might’ve found Lollipop.”

A unicorn mare shoved her way to the front of the group, a framed photo of a young filly hovering before her in an orange shimmer of magic. “Have you found my daughter? She’s only eight years old. She doesn’t even have her Cutie Mark yet!”

“What about my husband?” another mare asked.

“Or my brother?” chimed in a tall stallion from the back.

Twilight blinked in confusion. “I’m sorry, but I only came to check up on a report of Lollipop not showing up for work. You’re all missing somepony…?”

“That’s what we’re trying to tell you!” an elderly stallion shouted as he thumped his hoof on the floor.

The old stallion’s outburst was chorused by the group and Twilight was forced to raise her voice to silence them.

“Quiet! Please! Everypony please put your hooves up if the loved one you’re missing works in or around the castle!”

Only the tall stallion in the back raised a hoof.


* * *


The word ‘tension’ didn’t quite fully convey the mood in the conference room. Twilight, Spitfire, the princesses, three of the most senior personnel in the castle, and the Chief of Police stood around a large table with a map of the entire city spread across it. Twenty-nine little red flags were scattered across the map, each one representing the last known location of someone who’d gone missing.

The light buzz of fluorescent lighting overhead was barely audible over the sound of shouting as the Centurion and Executive Butler High Brow tore into one another from opposite sides of the enormous table. The three princesses stood at the head of the table, each wearing a different expression as two of their most trusted subjects bickered like children. Even to Twilight, who’d only been in the castle a few months, it was obvious that there was some bad blood between the two old stallions. Situations like this always seemed to bring that sort of thing to the surface.

Celestia was largely ignoring the pair as she stared silently at the map spread out on the table, her eyes drinking in every inch of it in obvious contemplation. Twilight was certain that the eldest of the princesses was putting her centuries of experience towards looking for a pattern in the flags, squinting at them like a fortune teller trying to read tea leaves. Only the occasional flicker of her ears indicated that she was even half listening to the tirades of the two stallions.

Cadance’s eyes shimmered with worry. She watched the back-and-forth bickering like a tennis match, periodically casting uncertain glances to where Twilight stood at her side. Twilight very much wanted to hug her every time their eyes met, but that wouldn’t have been appropriate – at least until the meeting was over.

Luna was splitting her attentions in half between the map and the two arguing stallions. They’d been going at one another for the past five minutes, and every second saw her mood darkening. Her teeth were grinding by this point – a sure sign that she was just about finished with listening to them have a go at one another.

“I don’t care what you thought,” Steel Century bellowed angrily, “this is the sort of thing that should have been reported immediately!”

The old unicorn butler snorted derisively as he smoothed out his black suit-jacket. “I suppose you wish for me to tell you every time a maid doesn’t show up for work?” he asked as he tilted his nose down so he could look over his little pince-nez glasses. “Keep your brutish snout out of my business and I shall do the same for yours!”

“Castle security is my business! Are you so senile that you don’t even realize that a chunk of your staff going missing is suspicious!?”

“I manage hundreds of ponies in this castle!” High Brow snapped. “On top of that, I have to oversee the preparations for the most important night of the social season! Ponies not reporting for duty is an annoyance, yes, but I’ve not the luxury of worrying about that beyond concerns of how to fill the gaps in the workforce!”

Steel Century let out a bark of sarcastic laughter that Twilight wouldn’t have believed the Captain of the Guard capable of. “So it’s okay for ponies to go missing so long as somepony else covers their shift?” The gruff old Centurion then turned to glare at the pony sitting at the furthest end of the table. “And you, Copper Top, what’s your excuse? You’ve been pretty quiet over there, but that’s what I’d expect from you at this point!”

The Chief of Police looked up from the folder he was reading, his face grim and his eyes weary. He wore a dark blue uniform jacket, nearly the same color as his fur, so at a glance it looked like the brass buttons and various pips and medals were pinned directly to his body. The old pegasus ruffled his wings in obvious agitation at the Centurion’s questioning.

“You might possibly be aware of this, Captain of the Guard,” he replied coldly, biting into the Centurion’s title like it was an insult, “but we have a little something called the Grand Galloping Gala happening tomorrow. I know you never leave the castle, so you’ve probably never noticed that the common-folk, the ones that aren’t important enough to get an invitation, like to hold little celebrations of their own. This, along with the highfalutin crowd that the castle’s event pulls in, means a goodly number of tourists are currently in our fair city. Increased tourism means more work for my officers.”

“So you’re busy,” Steel Century scoffed. “So busy you can’t ask for help with something this dire?”

“The investigation is already underway,” the police chief said as he narrowed his eyes distastefully. “The Canterlot P.D. appreciates your concern and the help that the Royal Guard gives in patrolling the streets, but missing persons cases are our jurisdiction.”

“Enough!” Luna roared in that deafening public speaking voice of hers. Every pair of ears save for Luna’s and Celestia’s clamped down as the command was issued with the full force of the Royal Canterlot Voice. “We thought to allow thee to bicker while We considered the information presented to Us, but clearly there is no end to the hot air filling thy bodies! We care little for thy petty squabbles and foalishness! We care only for the safety of Our subjects, and if thou whilst continue to waste precious time hoof-pointing, a private conference shall be arranged in the dungeons where thou canst quibble without distraction!”

All three stallions balked at the rebuke, lowering their heads and each offering an apology.

The conference room was one of the largest in the castle, but even still, the sound of Luna’s angry voice had Twilight’s ears ringing. Luna usually reserved her public speaking voice for, well, speaking publically – outdoors. Hearing it in this enclosed space left her working her jaw and trying to pop her ears to quiet the ringing. It was a little like the time at the academy that she’d forgotten to wear hearing protection while on the cannonry range.

Still the outburst had been effective, even considering that her temper had caused her to fall back into that archaic diction of hers. Knowing her continued efforts to integrate with contemporary Equestria, Princess Luna was no doubt unhappy with herself for letting her language slip.

“Thank you, Luna,” Celestia said, her eyes never leaving the map. “Decurion Twilight Sparkle, please brief us again on the situation. Some of us may need a refresher of the facts.”

The three stallions bowed their heads again, instantly recognizing this as Princess Celestia gently adding to Princess Luna’s warning that the discussion should be kept civil and professional. Somehow, the elder princess’ gentle disapproval was more humbling than Luna’s earsplitting reproach.

Twilight stepped forward, clearing her voice and motioning for Spitfire to step up as well. “I was escorting the Royal Astronomer to his meeting with Princess Luna when I was approached by a member of the kitchen staff. She shared concerns about a friend of hers who hadn’t shown for duty and requested that I stop by this friend’s home. She also reported that several other staffers were absent without leave, which I found suspicious. Along the way I met with Captain Spitfire, who accompanied me on the visit.”

“And why was an Air Force Captain tagging along on Royal Guard business?” Optio Whippoorwill asked, making his presence known. He’d been so silent that Twilight had forgotten he was standing behind his Centurion.

Spitfire held her head up and chest out, standing at attention as she answered. “The Decurion and I are friends, sir. I asked what she was doing and her task seemed mundane enough that I didn’t think it would hurt to ask to tag along.”

“At the time, I was still working under the assumption that it might just be a flu epidemic,” Twilight added. “I saw no harm in allowing her to accompany me, but still made sure to assert that I had authority as a guardspony.”

The Optio hummed in thought before nodding. “Continue, please.”

Spitfire’s posture relaxed noticeably. Of the ponies in the room, she was the one least familiar with the Royal Guard’s Optio. He was the sort of pony who liked his questions blunt and to the point, and sometimes it was difficult to tell when you were in trouble with him.

“We arrived at Lollipop’s residence to find her twin brother distraught over the disappearance of his sister,” Twilight continued. “We spoke for a while and the Captain and I formed the assumption that ponies working in and around the castle might be being targeted.”

The Centurion narrowed his eyes at the Executive Butler. “A fair assumption to make, considering all the castle staff that have likewise gone missing.”

Celestia’s gentle voice cut across any reply, but carried the tiniest note of annoyance. “Centurion…”

“Apologies, Your Highness,” he said contritely, adding another bow.

Twilight cleared her throat, drawing attention back to herself. “That theory was blown out of the water by a small group of neighbors who saw the Captain and I enter Lollipop’s home. They reported their own missing family members, and only one of them reported anypony who so much as walked past the castle on the way to work. Captain Spitfire assisted me in taking statements, and then we went straight to the police station to inquire about any open missing persons cases. We then returned to report the situation to Your Highnesses.”

Chief Copper Top took this as his chance to step back into the conversation. “We have twenty-nine missing person reports that have come in over the last forty-eight hours. Or, more precisely, I should say missing ponies reports.”

“Only ponies are missing?” Whippoorwill asked. “No visiting griffons or minotaurs? No zebras?”

“If there are, they haven’t been reported,” Copper Top explained with a shake of his head. “In all honesty, I had no idea so many ponies were missing until the Decurion showed up… The reports were made to various police outposts scattered across the city, and the officers stationed at their outposts didn’t have the time to file the reports with Central because of the current workload we’re under. Each case was being investigated as a separate incident, so we had no idea of the scope of this. It’s a weakness in our communication channels and one I will be addressing once this crisis is resolved. I assure you of that, Your Highnesses.”

“Admittedly, I will also be looking into the Guard’s standard operating procedure,” Steel Century said. “Current S.O.P. is for Royal Guard to direct this sort of issue to the nearest police outpost. Prolonged investigations aren’t normally under our purview unless they greatly affect general public safety or the crown directly.”

“Very good,” Celestia said. “Back to the matter at hoof, however. I believe we can all assume that these ponies were taken.”

“By whom, becomes the question,” Luna pointed out, “and for what reason?”

Every pair of eyes went back to the map.

“What about the assumption that castle personnel are being targeted?” High Brow suggested. “Of the twenty-nine missing, eleven of them are ours – seven gardeners, three maids, and the pastry chef that started this whole thing. Have any of the Royal Guard been taken?”

“Nopony was missing from inspection this morning,” the Centurion replied. “Report from the night watch said everything was condition green the whole night and there were no missing guards. We’re packed to the rafters with help from other regiments for the Gala, and the second this was brought to my attention I made sure to do a headcount on them, as well.”

Another moment of silence took hold of the room. An unspoken consensus was reached by all parties present, that whatever was said next, it would be said by Princess Celestia.

“I am considering canceling the Gala,” Celestia announced after a time. “Our priority should be finding these ponies and returning them to their families.”

“That may not be wise, Sister,” Luna suggested. “We must consider the possibility that the goal of the perpetrator is to spirit Our ponies away from Canterlot. Twenty-nine ponies is quite the herd to move without detection, even with magic, therefore, We can assume at the moment that Our ponies are still being secreted away within the limits of the city until an opportunity to move them presents itself. At the moment, many of Our subjects are entering the city for the event in question. Should it be canceled, disappointed ponies shall be rushing from the city in droves, providing excellent cover for such an operation.”

Celestia stared impassively at the map, contemplation clear on her features as Luna and the rest of the room awaited a response. Luna’s gaze was even and patient, but Twilight’s familiarity with the Princess of the Night allowed her to see the barely visible nervous tics Luna was attempting to hide. Even months after her return, Luna was still struggling with being accepted in the castle. Disagreeing with her sister, whom she knew their subjects considered nearly infallible, was a big step, even if it was only witnessed by the few ponies present.

“Well reasoned, Luna,” Celestia finally admitted, favoring her younger sibling with a smile. The affection lasted only long enough to be genuine before her face once more fell into the emotionless mask of leadership. “What course of action do you suggest?”

“We believe it best to continue with the festivities as planned. Guards and constabulary should be placed to cut off any means of egress from the city between now and the Gala, while smaller teams discreetly sweep the city. Furthermore, the press should be discouraged from disseminating information regarding of these incidents.”

“Your Highness, forgive me interrupting, but that’s a good point you bring up,” Copper Top said. “The news outlets still haven’t caught wind of this – thank the Stars for pointless fashion and vapid celebrities, I suppose – so we’ve been spared public panic. If the citizens find out that ponies are going missing, we’ll have more than a few upset party-goers rushing for the trains.”

“I can take care of that with a few letters,” Steel Century said. “I’ll tell them that anything they pick up about missing ponies is a matter of national security and politely request they postpone any reporting on the matter for a day or two while the investigation is underway.”

The way the Centurion stressed his words suggested just how firmly his ‘polite’ request would be made.

Copper Top nodded his assent. “That should buy us some time, then.”

“In regards to the matter of barring exit from the town,” Whippoorwill said as he adjusted his spectacles. “Between the Royal Guard and the police, I believe we can effectively blockade anything trying to leave the city until tomorrow. The Royal Guard can impound any airship or train car – private or commercial – for a period of up to thirty-six hours just on suspicion of smuggling. We don’t need to charge anypony, just keep them from leaving.”

“What if they’ve already been taken outside of the city?” Cadance asked.

“I will send messengers to every outpost and garrison in the surrounding area to increase patrols and be on the look out for anything suspicious,” Steel Century said. “Princess Luna’s suggestion seems the most likely scenario, but the more eyes we’ve got open the less likely we are to miss anything.”

“Optio Whippoorwill,” Celestia said. “I would like you to spearhead the search. Feel free to use this room as your operations center. It is quiet and removed enough from the ballroom that you will not be disturbed by the Gala. I would also like for Decurion Twilight Sparkle to assist.”

Spitfire turned to the princesses and stood at attention, just as she had when giving her report earlier. “Requesting permission to join the operation, Your Highnesses.”

“Granted,” Luna said, cutting in with a nod. “We were quite pleased with your exemplary work in the selection of Our Night Guard. We only regret that their training is not yet complete so that they might aide in the search.”

“Don’t you have a show to do, though?” Twilight asked.

“Soarin knows the routine,” Spitfire said. “He can lead the team in my place and we’ll rotate in one of the reserves.”

“We seem to have a plan,” High Brow said. “But it will only get us as far as the end of the Gala. Once the event is over, what will we do when the guests and the tourists try to go home?”

The old butler was right. Covertly searching the city and locking down the ports, roads, and train depot would do for a day or so, but the mass exodus of tired party-goers would bring their operation right into the light. If it became necessary to let the public at large know about the incidents, the initial panic would be hard to contain. What they needed was a way to close off everything, including the skies to prevent any pegasi or griffons from breaking the blockade.

Twilight was struck by a flash of inspiration. She took a deep breath and voiced her idea.

“This… this is something I think should be a last resort, but I do have an idea,” she announced to the meeting. “Princess Celestia, Shining Armor said he was coming to the Gala with his friends this year, didn’t he?”

A moment of thought was all it took for the half of the room that knew Shining Armor to catch on to her meaning, leaving the other half to wonder what they were missing from that question.

“You think we should employ the Elements of Harmony?” Copper Top asked.

“The Elements could be useful, yes,” Cadance said. “But what’s important is that Shining Armor will be there.”

“My brother’s specialty is shielding spells,” Twilight explained. “He earned his Cutie Mark by designing an incredibly powerful one. He’s only tested it in small scale, but theoretically, he could create a bubble shield large enough to surround the entire city, just on his own.”

The chief’s eyes went wide. “You’re talking about locking down the entire city behind a shield?”

Twilight nodded. “Nothing gets in, nothing gets out.”

The Executive Butler sputtered indignantly at the very notion. “Young lady, we have diplomats that will be attending! One does not forcibly detain a foreign diplomat!”

“They will understand if the situation is explained to them,” Celestia said with confidence. “My bigger concern is the panic that enclosing the city will create… It’s not ideal, but it is a workable solution. Hopefully it won’t come to that…”

With a consensus reached, the particulars were hammered out in short order. The meeting was dismissed and the two senior guards, the butler, and the police chief, filed out quickly to attend to their duties and do their part. Whippoorwill promised to return shortly to begin the operation, trotting off to make arrangements.

Celestia left next, wishing Twilight and Spitfire luck and stating her confidence that they would succeed. Luna offered her own wishes for good fortune, along with a few quiet words of encouragement for her friend, before departing.

Finally, only Twilight, Spitfire, and Cadance were left in the meeting room. Spitfire quietly offered to wait in the hallway, sensing that her friend and the princess might want a moment alone.

“I have to go snag a messenger to take a letter to Soarin, anyway,” she said as she excused herself.

Finally alone, Twilight and Cadance let a moment of quiet take hold the room. This morning they’d awoken with smiles, checking their luggage so they could leave immediately after Twilight’s shift was over, and discussing which stage shows they wanted to see. Now they were standing in what would soon be the center of a massive hunt for twenty-nine ponies who had been spirited away by some unknown element.

“I guess I’m not going to get to wear my Blue Suede outfit this weekend,” Cadance said with a watery grin and misty eyes.

“Maybe you could wear it to the Gala,” Twilight suggested, trying to return Cadance’s transparent attempts at levity. “A white jumpsuit covered in rhinestones with a glittering phoenix and a cape on the back? It’d sure show up all those stuffy mares with their designer ball gowns.”

The dam of Cadance’s smile cracked, letting some of the worry it was holding back slowly trickle out.

Twilight hung her head sadly. “Cadance, I’m sorry things turned out like this,” she sighed. “I know you were really looking forward to this weekend.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Cadance insisted. She stepped forward, quickly closing the distance to pull Twilight into a hug. “Our weekend isn’t actually important. I’m just scared that something bad has happened to those poor ponies… Find them, Twilight. They’re what matter.”

“I promise,” Twilight said, giving Cadance an extra squeeze.

“And I don’t know what’s going to happen, but I’ve got a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach,” Cadance added. “If it turns out that you have to go out and do something heroic…”

“I’m going to be stuck here, in a conference room coordinating the search, Cadance,” Twilight said. “It’s not a post that invites opportunities for heroics.”

“I know you,” Cadance said, as though that simple statement alone was justification enough for her worries. “Just promise me that if you do have to leave this room to chase down bad guys, you’ll be safe.”

When Twilight didn’t say anything back, Cadance sat on her haunches and removed her shoes to hold Twilight’s face between her bare hooves.

“Twilight… be safe,” she pleaded.

Twilight closed her eyes and leaned into Cadance’s touch. She allowed herself to be spoiled for a few moments longer before she stepped forward to press her lips hard against Cadance’s. Twilight kissed her mare deeply, drinking in as much comfort and courage as she could from their intimacy before she pulled her mouth away to nuzzle her cheek against Cadance’s.

“I’ll do my best,” Twilight said. They both knew that it was the closest she could give to the promise that Cadance wanted.


* * *

> Chapter 4 - Keeping Up Appearances
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Breezy Socks was a seven year old pegasus filly with a lime-green coat and a silvery mane. Being seven years old, she of course lived with her parents, who were both purebred pegasi from old families that could trace their lineages back to the founding of Cloudsdale. She had two older bothers and a younger sister, but only two of those siblings still lived with the family. Her oldest brother had graduated from Canterlot Academy and taken a job as an electrician in Rainbow Falls over a year ago.

Breezy was a bit of an early bloomer, having earned her Cutie Mark when she was just six years old. It worked out like that, sometimes. Cutie Marks didn’t really care how old you were when you finally discovered your talent – your ‘destiny’, as some would say. The bright red ball of yarn – a single string loose and trailing from the ball as if it was rolling away – signified the filly’s talent for knitting. During the winter, her parents had helped her set up a little kiosk to sell her creations, sort of like the lemonade stands that other foals her age put up in summer. Her sock designs were fairly well received, and her parents were putting the profits away in a savings accounts. If she decided to continue adding to this nest egg of hers, little Breezy Socks would have quite lot of options open to her once she graduated school.

“Twilight, you okay?”

Twilight looked up from the folder to find herself staring into Spitfire’s concerned, bloodshot eyes.

“I’m fine, why do you ask?”

“Because you’ve been staring at that one page for the last fifteen minutes,” Spitfire pointed out.

Twilight checked the clock on the wall, grimacing as she realized how badly she’d let the time get away from her.

“Sorry,” Twilight muttered, closing the folder with a flip of her magic and levitating it onto a stack of identical dossiers to her right. She pulled another folder down from the stack on her left, taking a lingering moment to study the recent picture provided by the family of Dirty Job, a middle-aged earth pony stallion who made a living as a trash collector.

“Hey, I get it,” Spitfire softly replied. She closed the folder in front of her and picked it up with her teeth, dropping it atop her own finished pile. She slid another off the stack of fresh reports but left it unopened, opting instead to rub at her tired eyes. “We’ve been on this case for over twelve hours now… I’ve never… I’m used to paperwork, y’know? I run the Bolts’ Academy in the spring. I spend two weeks doing sixteen-hour days sitting behind a desk going over performance reviews, signing off on reports and applications, making the travel arrangements for the shows the Wonderbolts will be doing over the rest of the year… but this…”

“...but this isn’t the same thing as looking over expense reports and the files of cadets hoping to make military careers,” Whippoorwill said from across the room, his voice accompanied by the sound of creaking wood.

Twilight and Spitfire turned to find the Optio sitting up on the little green army cot they’d set up in the corner of the room. As he was sitting up, a small alarm clock began to ring shrilly from the small table next to the cot. He shut it off with a slap of his wing, pulling his little spectacles off the table with the same motion and gently pushing them up the bridge of his muzzle. He still looked tired, and his haggard appearance was at odds with his still gleaming and polished armor. Twilight imagined that she probably looked much the same.

“This is investigative work,” he continued as he ran his hoof roughly through his mane. He rolled off the cot and walked back to the table with the labored steps of a pony that would have rather stayed in bed. “The Air Force doesn’t deal with the public as often or as intimately as the Royal Guard does. I understand that it can be difficult to maintain a professional distance when you find yourself looking at pictures of civilians that need you, but I’m afraid you’ll have to just deal with it – for their sakes.”

“I’ll do my best, sir…” Spitfire replied tiredly. She gave herself a few bracing slaps, hard enough to flush her cheeks, then flipped open her folder and started reading again.

The Optio nodded as he approached the table. He eyed the galea he’d removed before hitting the cot. The crest was brightly colored with the stripes denoting his position as one of the most influential military officers in Equestria. He sighed through his nostrils, pushing the galea across the table and out of the way to clear some space as he began going over the reports that had piled up while he’d slept.

“Your turn on the cot, Decurion,” he said, his eyes flicking upwards from the scroll he was reading to look Twilight over.

Twilight frowned, sparing a glance in the direction of the cot. A few hours before dawn, a guard had brought the cot in by orders of the Centurion. There hadn’t been any instructions from the Centurion to actually use it, but Whippoorwill immediately insisted that Spitfire catch a couple hours of sleep. The plan was to hot-bunk in two-hour shifts until they’d each had a little rest to carry them through the rest of the day. Whippoorwill had taken the second turn on the cot.

“I’m fine, sir,” Twilight insisted. She went back to reading Dirty Job’s file. She’d made it all the way to the account of his routine daily schedule when the sound of the Optio loudly clearing his throat made her look up.

“Bunk, Decurion,” he said curtly, tapping his spectacles with the tip of his wing. “Tired eyes miss details, and this is detail-oriented work. Captain Spitfire and I already took our turns, and now it’s yours.”

“I’ll be fine, Optio, sir. I’ll sleep when we’ve found those ponies.” Whippoorwill’s piercing, hawkish eyes focused on her, most probably studying her face for signs of fatigue. “It’s not the first time I’ve skipped a few naps.”

If he’d been shocked that she’d so casually bring up the incident in Zebrica, he didn’t show it beyond a slight fluffing of his wings to settle his feathers.

“Very well,” Whippoorwill conceded with a sigh, returning to his report. “Out of consideration for the time crunch we’re under, I’ll leave it to your discretion, then. But if I think your performance is suffering, you will follow my instructions, understood?”

“Understood, sir,” she replied. Twilight’s horn lit as her magic took hold of the large pot of coffee that had been brought by a guard earlier. She poured a mug for the Optio and offered it to him as a peace offering of sorts for her minor insubordination. He accepted the mug with a nod and Twilight poured some for herself and Spitfire.

For a time, the only sound in the room was the constant whisper of papers being shuffled and flipped, punctuated with the occasional sigh or a loud slurp of coffee. The map of the city that had been present during the initial briefing now bore dozens of new little flags, color coded and labeled with various pieces of information – places of residence, places of work, favorite places to eat, the residences of close acquaintances, and so on. Along with the various dossiers on the particulars of the victims, they also had files of ponies that might have recently been in contact with the victims. Right now, guard patrols were running down leads for their team, checking alibis with coworkers and classmates, conducting interviews, looking for signs of struggle in areas the victims might frequent – anything that might give them new clues. It wasn't easy-goings for those agents in the field, either, considering everything had to be done under the pretenses of more mundane investigations.

One of the most interesting – and frustrating – clues they had at the moment was Lollipop herself. When the last known location of each of the victims was charted out with flags, the highest concentrations were in two areas: the Canterlot Garden and Lollipop’s neighborhood.

One of their earliest working theories was that each of the victims might have some connection through Lollipop, but that had ended up a dry well no matter how many times they poked at it. At the moment, it was more of an interesting fact than a solid lead.

Sadly, that wasn’t the only dead end they’d explored during the investigation. Every promising new theory always seemed to peter out once it was examined a little closer. All they could do was dig further and further into the paperwork, approaching the situation with different theories, studying every aspect of the cases individually and as a whole. Most ponies thought that real-life investigations were like they were in detective novels – a tough stallion in a heavy coat and an unfashionable hat kicking down doors and shaking down street thugs – but most actual investigations were more about going over the paperwork and making sure that every ‘T’ was crossed and every ‘I’ was dotted.

Over the next hour or so, they continued working, toiling without making any real headway. A few times, the monotony would be broken by a knock at the door, and a stallion from the Guard, or a policepony, would deliver some paperwork or report on the investigation, but it was never any good news. It was as if twenty-nine ponies had just poofed away into thin-air.

Twilight was chewing on a pencil – a bad habit she’d picked up at a young age and never really bothered to curb – when Spitfire finally broke the rut they were in.

“Hey,” Spitfire said suddenly. “I think I might have something here.”

Twilight looked up curiously, raising an eyebrow in question. Optio Whippoorwill had also looked up, and was likewise quirking a single brow.

Spitfire tapped something on the page in front of her. “You catch any mention in the reports of ponies acting oddly?”

Twilight’s horn lit, quickly flipping through the files she’d gone over as she scanned the pictures within. When she was done, she had three folders hovering above her as she reorganized the stack.

“I’ve got a few, yeah,” Twilight said. She opened all three folders and spread them out on the table. “I’ve got a male wedding planner, a female lawyer, and a female teacher… plus, Lollipop, of course.”

“Right,” Spitfire said, slapping her hoof on the table pointedly. “Lollipop – the mare that got us started down this rabbit hole. When we interviewed her brother, you said that the girl that reported her to you mentioned that she’d been acting weird, and her brother backed that up.”

“We’ve already established that some of the victims had been acting oddly,” Whippoorwill said. There was a dull, steady clang of metal under the table as he slowly tapped his hoof in thought. “It’s been chalked up to professional stress. The careers Decurion Twilight Sparkle listed conform to this analysis, as do several others.”

“But what if they were all acting odd?” Spitfire suggested. “What if nopony noticed because nobody would think twice about a second grader being airheaded, or an elderly stallion being forgetful, or somepony’s grandmother forgetting a cookie recipe?”

“So ponies only noticed odd behavior in ponies with jobs where you’d notice if they messed something up, or acted out of character?” Twilight asked.

“Exactly,” Spitfire said with a proud grin. “And remember, we didn’t conduct all these interviews ourselves. You specifically asked Lollipop’s brother if he’d noticed anything odd. Worried family members might not think to include something like that in their statement unless it was asked, and considering how overworked they are right now, the officers that took the statements might not have thought to ask.”

“Alright then,” Whippoorwill said, “let’s assume this odd behavior is uniform across the victims. What does that tell us?”

“It implies that the victims might have all known they were being targeted, but didn’t report it,” Twilight said after a moment of thought. “They might’ve been coerced, I suppose…”

“Could also imply that they left voluntarily,” Spitfire suggested. “Maybe they all planned to leave the city together. Some sort of mass-runaway scheme?”

“I think that’s stretching it a little far…” Twilight said. “It doesn’t gel with the reports that all of the victims were happy and healthy. Plus, the victims don’t really fall into any kind of patterns regarding age, sex, career, interests, or even talents. There aren’t many vectors where they might have met up.”

Whippoorwill grunted, nodding his head along with all of Twilight’s points. “Excellently reasoned. Why don’t we go over the facts again, adding in the supposition that the victims were all behaving oddly?”

Twilight cleared her throat. “Firstly, every one of the victims is a pony, and as I said, they cover a wide spectrum, with very little overlap. What they do have in common, is that they all went missing within a twenty-four period, and since then we’ve had no new reports of missing ponies. Geographically, the disappearances are fairly spread out. However, there are two areas where we see some clustering.”

Twilight cast a quick spell, highlighting several of the flags on the map in the center of the table with a bright, glittering glow that would persist until she dispelled it.

“One area,” she continued, “is the palace, workplace of Lollipop – a chef – and a number of the castle’s gardeners who’ve gone missing. The other, is a residential neighborhood on Sunday Street. It’s an affluent neighborhood, but the only connection between it and the palace is Lollipop. We’ve explored the possibility that she might be the vector that connects all these ponies, but that proved a fruitless search early on… for right now, that’s all we know for sure…”

“There is one other thing we know for certain…” the Optio added, his face drawn into an angry scowl. “All of the ponies that went missing were reported by loved ones. They all had families that would miss them if they went missing.”

“Okay…” Spitfire said in slight confusion. “That’s interesting, but how is that significant?”

“It’s significant because if all you cared about was getting your hooves on a few ponies, you’d be better off targeting loners, shut-ins, and ponies that didn’t have bed times,” he explained. “You want somepony that doesn’t have a family waiting for mom to get home from work so they can start eating supper.”

“Like I said, that’s interesting, but it still doesn’t tell us why these specific ponies were taken,” Spitfire countered, “or who would want them.”

“Maybe it does,” he said, rubbing at his chin thoughtfully. “Maybe our culprit wanted ponies that would be missed.”

“You think maybe the goal was to get attention?” Spitfire asked, shifting her gaze upward to stare at the ceiling in though. “They want a spectacle? Maybe they wanted to cause a panic? But then why haven’t they made a move yet? Why haven't they tried to escalate the situation and bring the foalnappings out of the shadows, or, I dunno, try to take credit for the disappearances?”

“Maybe they’re waiting for the Gala to make a move?” Twilight suggested. “The eyes of Equestria will be on Canterlot tonight. If they want attention, it could hardly be coincidence that this is happening the day of such a big event.”

“That tracks,” Whippoorwill conceded, “but perhaps we should think about this more laterally. Why would these ponies be missed?”

“Because they have families,” Spitfire replied.

“Yes, but why would their families miss them?”

Spitfire rolled her eyes, seemingly unable to help herself despite the fact that she was addressing one of the highest ranking officers in the nation. “Because they love them?”

Twilight’s eyes widened as she caught on to what Whippoorwill was suggesting.

“Sir, I think I know where you’re going,” she said cautiously, “but I don’t think that fits.”

“It’s not the standard M.O., no,” he conceded, “but it’s a possibility that might fit… I’m mostly just thinking aloud here.”

“Either of you want to fill me in?” Spitfire asked, glancing between the two guards.

“Do they teach you anything about changelings in the Air Force, Captain?” Whippoorwill asked.

“I might’ve heard the term before…” Spitfire said, scratching at her cheek sheepishly.

Twilight picked up the hint that Spitfire had no idea what changelings were, and took it upon herself to explain. “Changelings are a type of creature that’s mostly insectoid, with a little equine thrown in. They’re a sort of psychic parasite that feeds on the emotion of love, and to get their fix, they’ve got a powerful, innate form of transformation magic. They change into a pony, or other equine – Zebrica had something of a problem with them a few hundred years ago – and feed on the love directed at whatever pony they’re impersonating.”

“Okay, so what about the creature you just described excludes it from our list of suspects?” Spitfire asked, furrowing her brow in consternation. “Damn things sound like they fit the bill to me. What do they do with the ponies they snatch?”

“Nothing,” Twilight explained. “That is to say, they don’t ‘snatch’ anypony. Changelings tend to be loners, and plan very short feedings well in advance of the act. They watch until they learn a pony’s schedule, then disguise themselves as that pony and pretend that they’ve decided to skip work for an afternoon of romance, or a surprise outing with the children. They feed and then disappear, leaving behind a very confused family.”

“That’s incredibly creepy…” Spitfire said. Her face scrunched up like she’d just bitten into something sour.

“Creepy, but mostly harmless,” Twilight pointed out. “If this is changelings, it’s radically different behavior from what’s known about them.”

“How do you guys know about these things?” Spitfire asked, obviously a little peeved that she was currently wearing the ‘dummy-hat’ in a conversation she’d started.

“They may be mostly harmless, but their transformation abilities are formidable, and I make it my business to know about every possible threat that might affect my nation,” the Optio said coolly. He pushed his spectacles up the bridge of his muzzle at just the right angle to catch the fluorescent lighting overhead, making the lenses flash brightly. The effect was so polished that it made Twilight wonder if the Optio practiced the motion in the mirror.

“I’m the same way,” Twilight said, grinning at her Optio. “Plus, Princess Cadance and I talked about them once.”

Whippoorwill hummed curiously. “How’d that come up in conversation? I understand that she’s the Princess of Love and would of course be interested in such creatures, but considering their scarcity in this region it’s hardly the sort of thing that comes up often.”

“Ah, heh, well… you know…” Twilight laughed nervously, scratching at one blushing cheek and pointedly looking at the ceiling. “She, uh, sometimes has trouble sleeping. Pillow-talk at two o’clock in the morning with the Princess of Love can get a little… odd, sometimes.”

Optio Whippoorwill coughed into his hoof, clearing his throat in embarrassment. “Yes, well, of course… sorry I asked…”

Spitfire was looking between the two guards, grinning like a five-year-old at their discomfort.

“G-getting back on topic!” Twilight quickly stammered. “Let’s assume for a minute that this is actually some sort of deviant changeling hive we’re dealing with here. It would explain the irregular behavior we’ve had reported. Changelings don’t usually stick around for extended periods, so if they’ve spent a good bit of time assuming the identities of their victims, it makes sense that the ponies with very involved jobs would be harder to impersonate.”

“Yes, and that’s a rather disconcerting thought,” Whippoorwill said with a shake of his head. “Some of the reports of suspicious behavior go as far back as a week ago.”

“That’d mean that those ponies have been held prisoner somewhere in Canterlot for at least a week, maybe longer…” Spitfire said, eyes narrowing in anger.

“Right,” Twilight agreed. A burning shot of anger rose up from her gut at the thought of children and elderly ponies locked up somewhere for days at a time. She swallowed the burning emotion back down, letting it smolder in her belly. There’d be time for anger after she got her hooves on whoever did this. “But none of this supposition changes the fact that we still have no idea where the missing ponies are being held. We may have an addition to our list of possible suspects, but we’re also seeing behavior that doesn’t track with what’s known of said possible suspect’s habits, so it doesn’t help us very much in actually finding our victims.”

“Indeed,” Whippoorwill agreed. “Catching the perpetrators is important, but our first duty is the retrieval and safe return of the ponies that were taken.”

“You don’t think it would help to look for changelings and see if we can’t catch one and squeeze information out of it?” Spitfire asked.

“Changeling transformations are just shy of perfect,” Whippoorwill explained as he grabbed his coffee cup and took a drink. His face screwed up and he frowned into the mug, smacking his lips as he pushed the lukewarm coffee away. “If there are in fact changelings in the city, we could find them, but it’d be massively difficult unless they wanted to be found. Decurion Twilight Sparkle is correct in saying that our best course of action is to focus on the victims. While there is a chance that changelings could be at the root of this, I’ll admit it’s not very likely, and the odds of that being the case don’t justify diverting pony-hours looking for changelings that might not be there.”

“Oh, that makes sense,” Spitfire admitted, clearly let down that they’d hit another possible dead end.

Twilight rubbed at the base of her neck. There was a little knot of tension just behind her skull that throbbed with every beat of her heart.

“You got any other ideas?” Twilight asked.

“Well, there is something else that’s been bugging me,” Spitfire said hesitantly, “but it’s a little out there…”

“Please share,” Whippoorwill urged her.

Spitfire flapped her wings, slowly rising into the air to hover above the table. She pointed down to a large green patch on the map, a short distance away from the cluster of flags dotting Sunday Street. Given the lack of flags, it hadn’t really seemed like a place of interest. Still, it was within a ten minute walk of one of the two largest groups of disappearances.

“This is a park, right?” she asked.

“Correct,” Whippoorwill answered. “It’s already been checked, though.”

Spitfire spun around in the air to face the Optio with an acrobatic little loop-de-loop that looked as natural to her as walking. “How thoroughly?”

“As thoroughly as can be done given the current orders we have to remain inconspicuous. Why?”

“I was just kind of thinking…” Spitfire began, suddenly seeming unsure of herself. She looked to Twilight, who gave her a nod of solidarity, and forged on. “Well, for a while there we were thinking that Lollipop’s the only link between the two sites with the highest number of disappearances. What if it’s, you know, parks? I mean the Canterlot Garden is basically a big park, right…?”

“That’s… an interesting theory…” Twilight said, tilting her head from side-to-side, letting the idea rattle around like dice in a cup.

“Very interesting, actually,” Whippoorwill said. “The gardeners working for the castle have their scheduling and payroll covered by the Executive Butler, but they are technically part of the Canterlot Parks and Recreational Services Department. Has anypony from the parks services been looked into?”

Twilight shuffled some more of her papers around and pulled out the notepad that she was keeping as a logbook of the investigation. She flipped through to an entry she’d made about a report filed late the previous evening.

“There was one mare from the parks services department that was interviewed several hours into the investigation,” Twilight reported. “She’s the fiancée of one of the missing ponies.”

“But no department-wide investigation?” Whippoorwill asked.

“No, sir.”

Whippoorwill tapped his hoof in thought for a few moments, then made a pleased-sounding grunt. “It’s as good a lead as any. Let’s see where it goes.” He picked up a blank scroll from a pile on the ground and began jotting down a note.

“You’re surprisingly good at this, Spitfire, I’m genuinely impressed,” Twilight said in praise of her friend.

Spitfire rubbed the back of her head, grinning bashfully. “To be honest… I’m actually kind of… a mystery novel dork…”

Twilight laughed. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

“What’s the big deal?” Spitfire asked, her cheeks flushing. “I can’t like reading just because I’m one of the best athletes in Equestria?”

“No, no, that’s really cool!” Twilight exclaimed, her face splitting into a wide grin. “I love reading, too!”

“Pft, I know that,” Spitfire said with a roll of her eyes. “Just don’t expect me to start a book club with you or nothing…”

“Noted,” Twilight said with a giggle.

Optio Whippoorwill spit out his pencil, letting it clatter loudly on the table, and began rolling up his letter. “Decurion, please get the door for me.”

Twilight’s horn flashed and the door at the far end of the room opened. One of the Legionaries standing outside poked his head in.

“Sir?” he asked.

“Take this to the Centurion,” Whippoorwill commanded as he pushed the scroll to the end of the table. “Then go to the Day Watch Tesserarius and tell him that I want every employee of the Parks Bureau interviewed for possible involvement in the disappearances. Get whoever's in charge over there to pretend they're auditing for discrepancies in the time cards, or some such thing. Also, I’m increasing patrols in and around the Sun Plaza Park and the Castle Garden. I want these places checked, then rechecked until you turn something up. Tell him to also inform the Chief of Police that these are now areas of elevated interest. Do you have all that?”

“Yes, sir!” the Legionary said with a crisp salute. He ran into the room, took the scroll in his mouth, and dashed off to carry out his orders.

“Right, that’s taken care of,” the Optio said with a sigh. He removed his spectacles and rubbed at his eyes. “For now though, we’ve still got paperwork to look over. The Grand Galloping Gala is just a few hours away, and if we don’t find those ponies before the Gala finishes, we’re going to have a lot of very scared and confused ponies on our hooves.”

“Right,” Spitfire and Twilight said in unison.

The trio dove headfirst back into the investigation, still tired, but relieved that they might finally be making headway.


* * *


Shining Armor walked through the halls of the castle, smiling at every familiar face he saw. He’d grown up here, and while he didn’t know the name of every pony on staff, many of the older servants had been around long enough that he recognized them even from a distance. A few ponies waved, some nodded, most just smiled back, but none stopped to say hello. Not with how busy everypony was.

With the Grand Galloping Gala only a few hours away, the last minute preparations for the event were in full swing. He’d never been to the Gala before, as he’d never had an interest in going and the princess had never asked him to make an appearance, but years of living in the castle had taught him which corridors to avoid the day of the Gala.

The hallway leading from the kitchens to the ballroom was definitely a no-go. The stream of waiters and caterers rushing to set out hors d’oeuvres would make travel down that particular corridor slow going. The same went for the hallway leading to the service stairwell going into the lower levels of the castle, which would be an endless procession of chairs, tables, and bottles of wine and cider until just an hour or so before the doors opened to guests.

It took a while, going the long way around the main halls and the busier service ways, but in the end he made it to Princess Celestia’s chambers relatively quickly. Even with the detour, he could’ve made the trip with his eyes closed. As a colt, he’d finish with his daily lessons and rush straight here – sometimes with Spike in tow, but most times by himself. The princess would sit him down to ask about his day and how he was finding his studies, then she’d begin his private lessons in magic, or whatever else might strike her as important.

“Afternoon, guys,” Shining Armor said in greeting to the two guards standing outside Celestia’s room. Neither guard returned the greeting, but neither did either of them try to stop him as he approached the door. Every guard in the castle knew who he was, and he was allowed to come and go as he pleased, so long as there wasn’t an issue with safety or a direct order from the princess keeping him out of a place.

He knocked on the door, eager to see the princess but not so eager that he would risk being rude by barging in. He only had to wait a few moments before the princess’ voice called him into the room.

“Princess Celestia!” he shouted in greeting as he entered his mentor’s private study. “It’s so good to see you!”

As soon as he was through the door he caught the musk of old books and antique bookshelves, lightly mixed with the scent of fresh parchment and ink. Celestia’s study had a rich, homey smell that always reminded Shining Armor of a library, and was as comforting and familiar to him as that of his mother’s favorite perfume.

Princess Celestia was at the far end of the room, standing in front of a writing desk with her back to the door. Her horn was lit as she manipulated a quill with quick, hurried strokes.

“Shining Armor, my faithful student,” she replied, still facing away from him, “thank you for coming on such short notice. Have a seat, please. I’ll only be another moment. I just need to finish a quick note to my Captain of the Guard.”

Shining Armor did as he was bid, making his way to a small table in the center of the room. Two cushions were beneath the table, one a brilliant yellow, and the other a bright, cheerful blue. A tug of his magic pulled out the blue one, and he took a moment to fluff it before plopping down.

He didn’t wait long before the princess set aside her quill and rolled up her letter, sending it away with a pop of teleportation. “Now then,” she said as she turned and flashed him a thin smile. “How are you, Shining?”

Shining Armor could tell right away that something was wrong. There was a strained quality to Celestia’s smile that others wouldn’t have noticed hidden amongst the eternal beauty and grace she exuded. Years of familiarity had given him a sense for when something was bothering her beyond the usual pressures of ruling a kingdom.

“I’m fine,” he answered cautiously.

Celestia’s smile flickered with genuine happiness as she approached and sat opposite him. “That’s wonderful to hear. How are your friends? Excited for the Grand Galloping Gala tonight?”

“Yeah, they’re all at the beauty parlor getting ready for it.” Shining Armor fidgeted in his seat, wondering whether or not he should press the issue directly. Princess Celestia often kept certain unpleasant topics from him, and he’d always just accepted it as a part of the way she showed she cared. Even still, she had called him to the castle early in the day, despite knowing they would see each other later tonight, so it was probably something she wanted to discuss with him anyway. “Princess, I’m sorry if it’s rude of me to just ask like this, but is something wrong?”

Celestia went silent, the thin veneer of a cheer fading away as her face became the same impartial, even countenance she wore in court. It was a look that Shining knew was carefully crafted, carved and honed over centuries to conceal whatever was on her mind. A perfectly flat poker face, with no tells, no give-away, no indication that anything was wrong. But the fact that she would choose to adopt – or perhaps reflexively retreat into – this persona in so private a meeting said something of the matter at hoof.

“You’re getting quite good at reading ponies, aren’t you?” she commented, one corner of her mouth turning up into an amused half-grin.

“My current field of study has me a little more in-tune with my interpersonal skills than I used to be,” Shining Armor replied, scratching at his temple sheepishly. “I always used to laugh at the social sciences as not actually being, you know, sciences… but somehow I find myself engrossed in the subject. I guess that’s because I’m finding that it’s less about science than magic, when it comes to these things.”

Celestia nodded, clearly pleased with some part of what he’d said. “It’s been a while since we’ve had a chance to catch up, so I’d been hoping we could have some pleasantries before we discussed the ugliness of matters at hoof,” she said, letting a little more of her regal countenance slip. She didn’t look tired, but she was strained, perhaps even anxious. “I’m afraid there’s been an incident.”

Shining Armor rose to his hooves, ready for action. “Is this Element business?” he asked quickly. “Let me go get the girls.”

“Sit, Shining,” Celestia said, holding up a hoof and gently patting the air like she was trying to calm a wild animal. She waited until he was seated before beginning again. “I’m pleased to see how readily you turn to your friends when confronted with a problem. It shows how far you’ve come in your studies of friendship. They’re not who I need right now, though.”

“If the Elements aren’t need then why did you call me?” he asked, tilting his head in confusion.

Celestia inhaled deeply. It was the closest to a sigh Shining Armor had ever seen from her. “Twenty-nine ponies have gone missing from within the Canterlot city limits.”

There was a long moment before Shining was able to process that information. When he’d finally gotten command of his faculties enough to respond, all he could manage was an awkward, “That’s… that’s terrible!”

“Yes, it is,” Celestia said. “The Royal Guard and the Canterlot police force are currently conducting a search of the city in hopes of turning up clues. Our citizens still haven’t realized that anything is amiss, though, so we’re keeping things quiet and conducting the search covertly.”

“You’re worried about a panic?” Shining Armor asked.

Celestia nodded. “We fear that a panic might lead to a mass exodus of the city, and the confusion of ponies rushing for the trains and roads down the mountain might be used as a cover to move the missing ponies. At the moment, the Guard has set up blockades preventing exit via train or airship, and the roads have security checkpoints.”

Shining Armor nervously rubbed his hooves together under the table, suddenly feeling a bit like when he was younger and the princess was giving him a logic puzzle to toy with. “What evidence do you have that they’re still in the city?” he asked, poking at the puzzle from another angle. Pushing through his disgust at the idea, he tried to mentally place himself in the position of a foalnapper. “If I was foalnapping somepony, I’d want to get them out of city as fast as I could.”

“There’s the possibility that they’re already gone, yes, and we’ve sent out alerts to the Royal Guard in other areas. However, twenty-nine ponies is quite a group to move out of the city without notice, so for the moment we’re working under the assumption that they’re still here until we’ve searched every inch of the city and proven otherwise.” Princess Celestia leaned forward ever so slightly. “That’s where you come in, Shining Armor. If we haven’t found the missing ponies by the end of the Gala, we won’t be able to keep this operation quiet anymore. We’ll need to bolster the blockade to something that can close off every single route out of the city, no matter how small.”

An uneasy feeling came over Shining Armor. With all the little pieces coming together at once – Celestia calling him alone, the need for something that could physically close an entire city, the signs of stress she was exhibiting – he could see where this was heading, and he didn’t like it. “You’re talking about my shield, aren’t you? The big one.”

“If the Gala ends and we still haven’t found those ponies, yes, I want for you to cast your spell,” she said simply. “The shielding is bi-directional, is it not? It should be able to keep things in as well as out?”

“It wasn’t always,” Shining replied, his ingrained instinct to answer a question from Celestia triggering almost immediately. “I’ve tweaked the original spell since then, though, so it shouldn’t have any trouble…”

A lump formed in his throat, choking the explanation of the spell and ending any thoughts of the magical and scientific particulars. He swallowed the lump down, pushing away that niggling little enthusiasm over the intricacies of things like phase-efficiency and bilateral waveform refraction. He almost felt ashamed of how easily he was distracted.

“Princess… I created that spell to protect ponies, not to imprison them. That’s what you’re talking about, here – holding the entire city prisoner… Do you really think that’s the right thing to do?”

“It may be the only thing to do, Shining,” she said. She opened her mouth to continue, but no words came out. A stretch of silence fell between them, hanging in the air like a fog. Her horn lit and a golden shimmer of magic removed her tiara and set it on the table between them. The clang of metal against the wooden table echoed with the gravity of a gavel being struck. “Ponies will be angry, they will be inconvenienced, but they will understand. They have to. There will be an initial panic, of course, but it will be quickly contained, and once the dust has settled the full might of our forces will be free to flip over every stone in Canterlot.”

“You’re right…” he admitted after some thought, though saying it aloud left a bad taste in his mouth. “The safety of the missing ponies outweighs the inconvenience. I don’t like the ethical implications of it, but I’ll do it if I have to…”

“It’ll be fine, Shining, you’ll be by my side the whole night,” she explained. “And the Elements should also stay within the castle’s walls, for their own safety as much as the safety of everypony present. I’m not anticipating any major problems during the party itself, but if their power is needed I’d rather they be close at hoof. They’re still free to enjoy the party – I just ask that they be prepared for any eventuality.”

“They’re not going to be able to enjoy the party knowing that there’s a whole group of ponies out there that need help,” he sighed. “They’re… they’re good girls. They’re going to want to help.”

“It’s better to leave it to the Guard for now,” Celestia explained. “Once your shield is up – if it comes to that – we can see about you all joining the search, but at the moment we need discretion. Nopony will bat an eye at guards and police ponies making their rounds on the day of the Gala. Do you think Rainbow Dash or Pinkie Pie capable of the same inconspicuousness?”

“Probably not,” he admitted, nearly laughing at the thought of either of those girls trying to carry out a covert operation of any kind. Pinkie Pie would run up and down the street screaming the names of the missing ponies, and Rainbow Dash would be grabbing random bystanders by their collars and trying to shake confessions out of them.

Celestia reached a hoof out and flicked the tallest of the points on her crown. She toyed with it a little, turning the symbol of her power this way and that, like a child examining an old toy she’d long ago lost interest in. “They might not understand this now, but sometimes the best way to protect everypony around you is to pretend that nothing is wrong. Keeping up appearances is important – far more than I’d ever like to admit…”

“Should I consider that a lesson?” Shining Armor asked, momentarily taken aback by how sentimental his mentor was being. It was a side of her that he’d rarely ever seen.

Celestia chuckled, her laugh little more than a soft murmur at the back of her throat. “If it helps,” she said with a smile.

A scroll popped into being next to Celestia’s head in a burst of purple and blue sparks. The violet ribbon tying it together bore Luna’s crescent moon. She caught the scroll in the grip of her magic and unfurled it, frowning as she read.

“Hm… it would seem Luna is going to be patrolling the city from the skies tonight, searching for suspicious activity,” Celestia said, summarizing the letter’s contents. “She has an old glamour that makes her indistinguishable from the night sky, but she’s having trouble adapting the formula to compensate for light pollution from the city’s electrical grid.”

“Do you need me to take a look at it?” he asked, almost desperate for the distraction.

“No, I can do this,” Celestia said as she stood. The crown on the table rose up and settled back into place atop her head as she turned back to her writing desk. “Go be with your friends, Shining Armor. Let them know what's happening and tell them to try and enjoy the party a little, even despite what’s going on. I’ll see you tonight.”

Shining Armor lifted a hoof to call her back, but as he opened his mouth he realized he didn’t have anything more to say on the subject. He lowered his hoof again and listened silently to the sharp scratching of Celestia’s quill sketching out something on Luna’s letter.

He stood without another word, politely tucked his cushion back under the table, and made to leave. He was only a few paces away from the door when the princess stopped him.

“Shining Armor,” she called.

“Yes?” he asked, turning back to face her.

“Your sister is still in the castle,” she said. 

That was a surprise. Ever since their talk a few months back, his relationship with Twilight was the best it had been in years. It was like reconnecting with one of his first friends, and he exchanged letters with her almost as often as he did with the princess, so he knew what her plans for the weekend were.

“Twilight’s here?” he wondered aloud. “I thought she was going out of town.”

“One of the ponies that went missing was a friend of hers,” Celestia explained. “Twilight’s the one that realized that a third of the gardening staff missing work was a larger incident than anypony else had guessed, and right now she’s on the team organizing the search alongside Optio Whippoorwill. You should be very proud of her. She’s a good soldier, and she truly cares about our citizens.”

“I am proud of her,” Shining Armor said, feeling the truth of that in his chest as blooming warmth.

“I just thought you’d like to know that,” Celestia explained with a smile. “She’s in Conference Room A-1 if you want to go see her.”

“If she’s working, it’s probably better if I don’t disturb her,” Shining surmised.

They exchanged quick goodbyes and Shining left, feeling as if the eyes of the guards outside Celestia’s door were following him as he started down the hall. He looked over his shoulder and found the guards looking straight ahead, at attention and alert, but definitely not focused on him.

He continued on, dragging his hooves the whole way and already dreading the conversation he was about to have with the girls. How was he supposed to tell them about this? It hadn’t been an exaggeration to say that there was absolutely no way they’d be able to enjoy the party knowing that something so dire was happening in the city.

Despite what he’d told Celestia, the thought of going to see Twilight entered his mind. Whether it was to get more information or just to buy some time before meeting with his friends and breaking the news to them, he wasn’t sure.

The conference room Celestia had indicated wasn’t far, and he began plotting out the quickest way to get there without getting caught up in the pre-Gala rush. Taking a left past the royal chambers, going down past three junctions, heading up the stairs, bearing right, walking down a short hallway and down a service stairwell, would put him right outside the door. He scratched that idea out as being too circuitous.

He plotted out an alternate route, then another, and another. By the time he’d decided on a path and resolved to go see Twilight after all, he’d found that his legs had carried him all the way out of the castle. He was just a bit up the road from the beauty parlor where his friends were primping themselves for the party.

The little sign that hung in the window was flipped to the ‘Closed’ side, but he knew the door was open. The owner was out of town for some family emergency and had canceled all her appointments at the last minute, but Rarity was an old friend of hers, and the silver-tongued seamstress had managed to talk her friend into letting them use the shop while she was out.

Rarity would be playing General, of course, marshaling her forces and directing them to whatever station they needed to be at for maximum beautification.

Applejack would probably be asleep under a hair-dryer. The girls had recently talked him into doing a weekly spa treatment – which, despite his initial protests, he found he really enjoyed – and Applejack always fell asleep under the dryer after getting out of the bath.

Pinkie would be bouncing around trying to put on every shade of lipstick and blush and eyeliner at once, until her face looked like Rainbow Dash’s hair. Rainbow Dash would be following her, egging her on and laughing the whole time as Rarity tried to get them to settle down.

Fluttershy was the most ladylike of the bunch, aside from Rarity, who was in a class of ladylikeness of her own. Rarity wouldn’t feel the need to coach her through the process, so Fluttershy would most likely just be styling her own mane.

He paused short of the front door, taking a moment to steel himself with a long, drawn out breath. The little bell above the door jingled as he stepped through. A few moments later, Spike stuck his head between a pair of curtains leading to the back room, summoned by the entrance chime.

“Hey-hey,” his little brother greeted enthusiastically. “Check this out. Mom might’ve named you Shining Armor, but check out my shine.”

Spike stepped out from behind the curtain and rose up on his hind legs, striking a pose as he flexed his biceps. Just a few years ago, that same pose made by his tiny, chubby body would have been cute, but dragon physiology was weird, and years of stunted growth had become un-stunted in the short span of a few months. On all fours, he was just a bit shorter than Shining, but standing upright, his long, lean frame made him nearly as tall as Celestia.

Shining Armor blinked as he watched the almost embarrassingly vain display. Admittedly, though, it was impressive the way Spike’s scales reflected the light like a polished marble floor.

“What’d you do to yourself?” Shining asked as he flinched away from a particularly bright flash as Spike’s scales caught the sunlight through the shop window.

“I got a belt sander, took off some of the rough edges,” Spike said as he narcissistically groped his own bicep. “Rarity got me this fancy scale wax, too. Said I’d have to look extra fancy tonight.”

“That’s great,” Shining Armor said. He tried to work some enthusiasm into his voice, but the words came out with the deadpan of somepony delivering news of an untimely passing.

Spike stopped his peacocking, turning his head curiously and frowning at Shining Armor. “Is something wrong? You’ve got that look on your face like the princess just dropped something huge on you. What did she want?”

Shining Armor sighed. “There’s been a complication…” Shining said, hanging his head sadly. “It’s better if the girls hear this, too.”

Spike nodded, parting the curtains delicately so his freshly sharpened claws wouldn’t tear through the fabric.

Shining Armor’s predictions had turned out to be correct, right down to the disapproved clucking of Rarity as she desperately wiped at Pinkie’s face with some little cotton pads. They probably had some sort of astringent on them, judging from the fuss Pinkie was making about the smell. Rainbow Dash was standing in front of the mirror, poking around inside one of Rarity’s many makeup cases and trying to look innocent.

“Hey, Shiny-pants!” Pinkie Pie shouted, just a few decibels louder than she might normally have.

The shouted greeting distracted Rarity just long enough for Pinkie to slip away. She rushed to the sink and scrubbed at her face with water. The rest of the girls all turned their heads to greet Shining Armor with a smile – though it took Applejack a second to register what was going on after Fluttershy lifted the dryer’s hood and woke her with a gentle poke.

“Shining Armor, darling, you’re an absolute mess,” Rarity crowed dramatically. She rushed up and placed a hoof on his chin, turning his face from side to side. “I went through all the trouble of cutting your mane and now it’s positively windswept. That sort of thing may be passable at a function in Chicacolt, but the Canterlot ton leans towards a more manicured look.”

“You cut his mane?” Rainbow Dash asked, floating over with lazy flaps of her wings. She squinted one eye and leaned in close to examine the haircut in question. “Looks the same as it always does to me.”

“Oh, Rainbow Dash, you silly girl,” Rarity said, stretching out the first few syllables of Rainbow’s name with a chuckle that would have seemed condescending to anypony that didn’t know her. “I took three centimeters off his bangs. It might not seem like much to you, but believe me, to the discerning eye the difference is nothing short of transformative.”

Rainbow Dash pursed her lips and blew a dismissive raspberry. “Three centimeters, she says,” Rainbow Dash commented with a roll of her eyes. “How’d the meeting with the princess go, big guy? What’d she want?”

Shining Armor sat on his haunches and cleared his throat. “Um, girls, I’m afraid there’s been a problem…”

The other girls were up and surrounding him in a flash. “Well, what is it?” Rainbow Dash asked.

Rarity gasped. “Surely there’s not something wrong with our tickets, is there?”

“No, no, there’s nothing wrong with our tickets,” Shining Armor said.

The girls exchanged a few curious looks with one another. They were all wearing similarly worried expressions. Shining Armor could practically hear the thoughts forming in their minds – scenarios where they’d be marching on hibernating dragons again, or doing battle with some magical ne’er-do-well. It was a sad contrast to the happy mood they’d had only moments ago.

Looking into their expectant faces, eyes full of worry and clear disappointment, Shining Armor lost his nerve. He couldn’t tell them. How could he ruin what they’d all been saying would be the best night ever? The thought occurred to him that maybe he didn’t have to tell them… but he’d already said that something had gone wrong, so what could he say?

He turned the situation around in his head, looking at it from different directions and trying to find a way to soften the blow.

The princess had said that nothing would happen so long as the party was still underway, and the place would no doubt be crawling with Royal Guard. She’d only really asked that the girls stay in the castle and be ready in case the Elements were needed, which was a simple enough request, since most of their plans would keep them safely inside the ballroom the entire night. And if there was any group of mares that was always ready for when duty called, it was these five. The only one who might present a problem to that was Fluttershy, who wanted to spend time in the garden.

Something clicked in Shining’s brain, highlighting the word ‘garden’ and demanding that it was important. What had the princess said about the garden? No, it wasn’t the garden… it was about the gardeners…

“Fluttershy!” he shouted, causing the shy girl to chirp with surprise and shrink away behind her hair. Shining Armor flinched with embarrassment. “Sorry, didn’t mean to yell. But, um, Fluttershy, you said you wanted to go to the garden tonight, right? To see the animals?”

Fluttershy unfolded from herself, smiling enthusiastically and nodding. “Oh, yes, I’m so looking forward to seeing the princess’ menagerie. That part of the garden is only open to the public during special events, so it’s such a rare opportunity. I hear she has monkeys. I’ve never seen actual monkeys up close before.”

“I’m sorry, Fluttershy, but the princess told me that some of the gardeners… um, never showed up for work, so the garden is a mess. It’s going to be closed off for the evening.”

“Oh…” Fluttershy said as her enthusiasm deflated.

Rainbow Dash reached out and placed a wing over her friend’s back. “Hey, cheer up, Shy,” Rainbow said encouragingly. “I know you were real excited about the animals, but there’s still plenty to do tonight. If you want, you can hang out with me and the Wonderbolts!”

“Oh, oh, oh!” Pinkie Pie shouted, hopping up and down and clapping her hooves gleefully. “You could come partying with me! With our powers combined, the collective shaking of our respective ‘its’ will tear the roof off the palace!”

“Spikey and I would absolutely adore having you with us, Fluttershy,” Rarity said. She cast a sidelong glance at Pinkie Pie who was now wiggling her rear to music nopony else could hear. "We promise that our plans won't involve bringing the castle down around everypony's ears."

Shining Armor turned to see Spike standing behind him, staring at him with his brows furrowed in clear confusion. Spike jumped when Rarity coughed into her hoof.

“I said, isn’t… that… right… Spikey?” Rarity repeated through teeth clenched in an unnaturally wide smile, nodding none-too-surreptitiously in Fluttershy’s direction to punctuate every word.

“Y-yeah!” he quickly agreed. “We’d love for you to hang out with us tonight. We can do a little schmoozing, a little dancing, eat some fancy snacks – it’ll be great!”

Fluttershy stood a little straighter, affecting a warm, grateful smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Oh, thank you, everypony,” she said prosaically, “I’m disappointed, but it’s nice to know that you all care so much. I don’t know what I’ll do, but I’ll try not to be too much of a bother.”

“Don’t you go talking like that, Shy,” Applejack chided her. “You’re our friend and it ain’t no trouble at all. If'n you want, you're more than welcome to help me out at the stand I’m fixing to set up. Granny always said, ‘two pretty gals sells more apples than one’.”

“Indeed,” Rarity said with a cluck of her tongue. “I’ll hear none of this talk of you being an inconvenience. Now come, come, we simply must do something about your makeup.”

“Oh, dear, um… can we maybe… just… not put too much…?” Fluttershy said as Rarity leaned against her side and guided her towards the nearest mirror. Fluttershy cast a pleading look to the rest of the group, but Applejack and Rainbow Dash had already returned to their own preparations, while Pinkie Pie whistled innocently, pointedly looking the other direction.

“Oho-ho-ho, Fluttershy, I’d never dream of it!” Rarity said with a simpering laugh. “You have far too much natural beauty to hide behind makeup. You just need a teensy little bit of foundation… and some blush to bring out those cheekbones… and some shadow to draw attention to your eyes… and some mascara to fill out those lovely lashes…”

Shining Armor watched for a bit as Rarity fussed with Fluttershy’s appearance, tubes of lipstick and tins of rouge floating around their heads in the grip of Rarity’s magic. He wiped his brow, wicking away the dampness with a flick of his hoof. His entire body felt like somepony had just lifted a massive weight off his back.

“Is that what you wanted to tell them?”

Shining Armor nearly jumped at the sudden question. “What do you mean?” he asked as he turned to his brother.

Spike’s lips were pulled into a frown as he scratched at his temple, head tilted to the side in clear confusion. “The look on your face when you came in… I thought, I dunno… maybe there was something big going on. Like Elements of Harmony big.”

Shining Armor swallowed down a lump in his throat. “Fluttershy wanted to see the animals really badly…” he explained lamely. He felt his cheeks burning with shame – shame over the fact that not only had he kept the ugly truth from them, but now he was telling lies just to prop up the cover story.

“So you just didn’t want to disappoint her?” Spike asked. The confusion on his face melted away, replaced with a concerned, almost pitying smile. It was the sort of expression that a parent would give to a child faced with his first major disappointment.

“I just want the night to be perfect for all of them,” Shining Armor added. That wasn’t a lie, and he grasped at it, holding it against his chest and trying to get some comfort from it.

He felt one of Spike’s arms wrap around his shoulders in a brotherly embrace.

“Buck up, there, bro,” Spike said with a gentle laugh. He balled his claws into a loose fist and softly tapped Shining Armor’s jaw with a playful punch. “You do know that the girls won’t blame you even if the night doesn’t go perfectly, right?”

Shining Armor looked away, trying to pull out of the embrace, but he was held fast by Spike’s deceptively strong arms. It was easy to forget how strong his ‘little’ brother was.

“I know that…” he answered sheepishly.

There was a long pause where Spike said nothing, leaving nothing to focus on except the sound of the girls’ chatter. Pinkie Pie had discovered Rarity’s stash of flavored lip gloss and was gushing to Rarity about her idea for cupcake frosting that could tint the lips like lipstick, so busy ponies could put on makeup and eat cupcakes at the same time. The fuss that Pinkie was making only made the silence from Spike all the more unbearable.

“I know that sometimes you feel like you really have to go out of your way to make them happy,” Spike continued, dropping his voice lower to keep their conversation private, “but trust me, you don’t have to worry. They’re your friends and they love you no matter what, so… try not to take things like this too hard, okay? It happens. And besides, we can always make it up to Fluttershy later. The menagerie may be closed to the public most of the time, but we’re not the public, are we? We can give her a private tour later.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Shining replied, putting on a smile so paper-thin that it would’ve blown away in a stiff breeze. The shame he felt was becoming something tangible – a painful lump in the middle of his gut that twisted up his insides with every word out of Spike’s mouth.

“Course I am,” Spike said with a final little squeeze. “Don’t worry, Rarity and I will keep an eye on Fluttershy. We’ll make sure she has a good time.”

Spike released Shining and began walking away, presumably to spread out on a couch in the waiting area until it was time to get dressed.

“It’s going to be fine…” Shining Armor said to himself under his breath. Saying that aloud only twisted the lump in his stomach ever further. 

One of the very bedrock foundations of a solid and meaningful friendship was honesty – Applejack’s Element was proof enough of that. He’d betrayed that wonderful ideal with a lie… though, it was only a lie of omission, which, when he thought about it, was hardly a lie at all… At most, he was guilty of a half-lie, and even a half-lie was still half the truth. With gardeners missing, non-public areas like the private menagerie would be low priority for the remaining staff, so that part of the garden would almost assuredly be closed, just like he’d said.

With Twilight and the Optio – whom Shining knew by reputation to be an intensely focused stallion – on the case, it might not even end up being an issue. For all he knew, the Royal Guard might have found the missing ponies the second he’d left the castle.

Of course, if it came down to it and he was forced to cast his spell, then the cat would obviously be out of the bag, and he’d have to face the music about his deception. The girls would be mad at him, but as long as they were all inside the castle and safely out of the way – and enjoying themselves – until there was something they could actually do, nothing else mattered.

For now, it was like the princess had said: sometimes the best thing to do was to keep up appearances.

“Shine-Shine~” Pinkie Pie sang at him from across the room. She was sitting on a stool, spinning in a circle and giggling. “Stop pouting over there and come put on makeup with us! You need to get pretty, too!”

“Stallions don’t wear makeup, Pinkie,” Applejack corrected her. “Excepting those fellers in the boy bands that Bloom’s been taking a liking to lately.”

Rainbow Dash pulled her head out from under the spray nozzle in the sink, her mane plastered to her face and her coat down to her shoulders soaked. “Shining could totally be one of those pretty boys,” she snickered as she wrapped a towel around her head and began drying herself off. “He could be the ‘smart one’.”

“That’s too obvious,” Applejack scoffed. “I reckon he’d be the cool feller that leads the group.”

“I think he’d be the ‘sensitive one’,” Fluttershy said.

“What about the ‘bad boy’?” Pinkie asked as the chair she was spinning on came to a slow stop. “Everypony loves a bad boy. They get all the chicks.”

“Hm, perhaps he could be the ‘sporty one’?” Rarity suggested, tapping a hoof to her chin thoughtfully. “He does keep quite fit.”

The beauty parlor soon devolved into a heated argument over which ‘one’ Shining would be in a boy band, quickly followed by which ‘one’ Spike would be.

Shining Armor let the ambient sounds of gossip wash over him as he took a seat in front of the mirror to check on his appearance.


* * *


> Chapter 5 - The Best Night Ever
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Twilight poured herself the last of the coffee from the pot and levitated the empty container to the end of the table closest to the door. Somepony would eventually bring in a trolley with a fresh pot and maybe something to snack on. She slurped at the coffee, chugging the stale, room-temperature muck in a single gulp. It wasn’t good, or even strong, but the small surge of caffeine was more than welcomed. She set the empty mug down and returned to glaring at the map at the center of the table.

The little colored flags on the map of Canterlot had doubled as the investigation wore on. Bits of yarn had been pinned to the map, connecting areas of interest according to various leads.

She looked down at the report she’d been given just minutes ago, frowning at what she read. She snorted angrily and used her magic to pluck a little green flag off of a large, grayed out square on the map.

The flag had denoted a warehouse that had been marked by the Port Authority’s records as being unused, but the guards patrolling the airship ports had uncovered rumors of suspicious characters skulking around the area. It had been a promising lead, but a search of the facility, under the pretense of a surprise building inspection, only turned up some Manechurian pottery that hadn’t been in any submitted records. It had turned out that the owner of the warehouse had been doctoring his shipping manifests to avoid paying import tax. It was good that they’d caught the guy, but imported kitchenware wasn’t as important as missing ponies, and Twilight couldn’t have cared less about it at the moment.

She took a deep breath and emptied her lungs in a slow, frustrated sigh before she rolled the scroll up and flung it over her shoulder. The soft tumble of parchment rolling to the ground registered in her ears as it landed on the ‘Dead Leads’ pile behind her.

Over the course of the investigation, Twilight’s organizational system had gone a bit awry. As the Gala grew nearer, and the window they had to find the missing ponies closed, the intensity of the search had slowly begun ramping upwards. Reports were flooding in as their agents in the field double-timed it to track down every lead and follow-up every order they were given. The torrent of information had come so fast that they were now buried in a veritable sea of scrolls, and everything had ended up stacked in shoulder-high piles along the walls.

She glanced to the head of the table where Whippoorwill and Spitfire were huddled together over a map of the sewer system. Their manes were mussed from hours of running their hooves through their hair in frustration, and their coats were matted with sweat. Twilight ran a hoof through her own mane and realized that she probably looked as bad as they did. Her joints were sore from sitting in the same position for hours and hours, and her neck was stiff. A walk to stretch her legs would do a world of good, but there just wasn’t any time for that.

All three ponies looked up as they heard a sound like rolling thunder overhead, accompanied by the boom-fizzle of fireworks in the sky. The sound of the Wonderbolts putting on one of their world-renowned shows could be heard even this far into the castle, through the thick doors of the conference room.

Twilight checked the clock just to be certain, but they all knew that the sound of a Wonderbolts performance meant that the Grand Galloping Gala’s opening ceremonies were already underway. As soon as the show was over, Celestia would lower the sun and the doors would be opened to guests.

“Decurion,” Whippoorwill said, breaking the spell that had fallen over the room. “How’d the lead at the port go?”

“It was just a tax dodger doctoring his freight bills, sir,” she reported.

“I see…”

“How about the thing with the sewers?” she asked.

Spitfire shook her head. “All the access points near our areas of interest were still secured and didn’t show any signs of being tampered with. The Chief of Police sent a few officers disguised as underground workers down for a peek, but they didn’t turn up anything. They’re going to check a few more access points, but honestly the sewer system in Canterlot isn’t as big as I thought it was – not compared to somewhere like Manehattan, anyway. I doubt there’s anywhere down there big enough to hold twenty-nine ponies.”

“Guess the only thing is to keep at it, huh?” Twilight suggested. The other two soldiers grunted in agreement.

They continued working and a half hour or so later, there was a knock at the door.

“Sir, ma’am,” the guard said as he entered and saluted them. “The Captain of the Guard has ordered all field agents back to the barracks for reorganization, and he wants Optio Whippoorwill in his office for a debriefing.”

Twilight spun to face the stallion, her lips pulled into a tight, angry line. “Why?”

The guard’s discipline faltered for just a moment as he withered under the glare Twilight was giving him. “Um, he said he wants to prepare for the next sweep of the city, ma’am.”

“We still have hours until that’s necessary!” Twilight snapped. “The Gala just started and Shining Armor isn’t going to put up that shield until the Gala is finishing up!”

“Thank you, Legionary,” Whippoorwill said, cutting across Twilight’s protest. He smoothed back his mane and put his galea on. “Go back to the Centurion and tell him that I’ll be along in a moment to deliver my report in person.”

Twilight turned to the Optio, too shocked to even notice that the Legionary had beat a hasty retreat. “Sir, we still have time!”

“That time will be better spent preparing for the next stage of the search, Decurion,” Whippoorwill calmly explained. He set about gathering his own notes and stowing them into a pair of saddlebags. “When the shield goes up, we’re going to have a lot of confused, scared ponies wondering what’s going on. Princess Celestia is going to make a proclamation explaining the situation, but until she does, we need to be ready to maintain order and reassure the public. Once that’s done, we won’t have to go around peeking in windows. We can do a full and thorough search of the city.”

He was right. Preparing for the large-scale search was the most efficient use of their remaining time. But, even though she could admit that his reasoning was sound, it felt like a failure to admit that their search efforts to this point hadn’t yielded results. That sense of failure left a grossly sour taste in her mouth, and she suddenly wished she had more of the cold, bitter coffee to rinse it away.

She closed her eyes and sighed. “Okay…” she said. “Okay… you’re right. Where do we go next, then, sir? Should Spitfire and I accompany you to see the Centurion or should we work with the Night Watch Tesserarius organizing the search parties?”

“Neither. You and Captain Spitfire are relieved. Go get some rest.”

“Sir, I’m fine,” Twilight protested. “And I know Spitfire’s up for more, right, Spitfire?”

Spitfire merely nodded in response.

“You’re relieved, Decurion,” Optio Whippoorwill repeated, his words somehow sharper without changing pitch or volume. “You earned a good night’s rest. The rest of the Guard has been working in shifts, so they’re fresh-faced and ready to go. They haven’t been working for over twenty-four hours like we have. If it makes you feel any better, Centurion Steel Century is probably going to give me the same order as soon as he’s been apprised of our findings.”

Twilight hung her head dejectedly. She wanted to continue protesting, to plead for the chance to stay on the case, but she knew it was pointless from the tone in his voice. He wouldn’t change his mind. She almost didn’t register the fact that he’d left until he called her name and Spitfire’s as he officially dismissed them. He might’ve said something about the possibility of a commendation after the missing ponies were found safe and sound, but the only other thing she’d heard clearly was the click of the door latch catching on his way out.

A pile of reports went flying as Spitfire kicked at them indiscriminately, sending the scrolls tumbling across the floor in all directions. Twilight almost shouted out of reflex about Spitfire messing up their organized files, but she realized that it didn’t matter anymore. All the information in those scrolls had been summarized in the notes and logbooks Optio Whippoorwill had taken with him. The scrolls themselves were now just bits of paper for the recycling heap.

“Well, isn’t this just sun damned peachy-keen?” Spitfire said angrily. “We didn’t find shit, and now maybe they want to give us a couple new bars for our dress jackets for the trouble?”

Twilight was only half paying attention to Spitfire’s rant, but she shared the sentiment. All she could think about was those ponies that she’d failed. Not for the first time, she considered the possibility that they might never be found and that their families would never know closure on the matter. That was what she was most afraid of, and the thought of it made her heart ache.

Twilight chewed her lip angrily as she mentally reviewed every scrap of evidence they’d gathered that had seemed like it might be important. There had to be something they’d overlooked, some lead that hadn’t been followed all the way, or something that looked like a dead end but just required a little more digging. If she could figure something out, if she could have some last-minute revelation or bolt of inspiration, maybe they could still do it. They still had a few hours. The Gala would be on until midnight – that was the real deadline.

She shook her head, tossing aside the thoughts buzzing around her head like a cloud of angry gnats. Little fantasies about going off on her own and succeeding where the combined forces of the Royal Guard and the Canterlot Police Department had failed weren’t helping.

“I don’t even feel like getting drunk,” Spitfire commented sourly. She kicked again at a loose scroll. It thumped against the wall with the soft slap of stiff paper striking against stone. “Bars are probably going to be closed, too, once the shield goes up. Too bad, though. With every uniform in town running around looking for our victims, Dirty’s place is probably empty right now. It’s probably the quietest that place has ever been. Bet there’s not even a line at the pinball machine.”

“I’ll see you later, okay?” Twilight said as she abruptly made for the door. She had to move her body, to go for a walk, to do literally anything but spend another second standing around in this room. In her haste she’d almost forgotten to grab her galea. She levitated the helmet from under the table and plopped it on her head with barely a thought.

“Are you going to go looking for your princess?” Spitfire teased with a forced laugh. “Must be nice to have somepony to make you feel better after a shitty day.”

The idea of going to find Cadance was tempting – tempting enough to stop Twilight right in her tracks. Her girlfriend was probably at the Gala right now, standing with Princess Celestia and greeting guests at the top of the stairs in the entrance hall. Twilight was wearing her armor, which would mostly hide how disheveled and sweaty she probably looked. She could walk right up to Cadance, claim that her presence was requested elsewhere, and then…

Twilight rubbed at her face tiredly. She couldn’t face Cadance, not right now. Not with empty hooves. Maybe it was childish, maybe she just wanted to pout, but right now all she wanted was to be alone for a little while.

“Something like that,” Twilight said with a shake of her head. “See you.”

“Yeah, see ya, Sparkle,” Spitfire called back.

The guards outside the door saluted her as she breezed past them. They would stand there until somepony from the archives showed up to sort through the paperwork for anything that might be worth holding on to for the official record. It was almost entirely scrap, but rules were rules, so the archivists ended up with the messy job of picking through the heap.

The halls were mostly empty, save for a few guards standing at their usual posts outside important rooms. Everypony was at the other end of the castle, enjoying the Gala or working to make sure the guests had a good time.

Her ears twitched as she heard a small thump, followed by the sound of muffled voices. She went in the direction of the noise, turning a corner and finding herself standing in front of a broom closet. Most ponies would be surprised just how many of the beautifully crafted, ornate doors were just there so nopony would see the mops and jugs of cleaning solution.

Twilight opened the door without hesitation and blinked at the scene she found.

A young mare and stallion – probably only two or three years younger than she was – were standing upright in the closet, leaning closely against one another. The filly’s back was pressed to the wall and her dress was hiked up where her beau’s hoof groped at her flank. They were frozen, staring at her with eyes wide in surprise and cheeks flush with embarrassment and arousal. The colt had streaks of the girl’s dark red lipstick smeared all around his mouth and cheeks – a tell-tale sign of how slobbery their kissing had gotten.

It was just a couple of horny teens, probably the foals of some of the big wigs at the Gala. They probably had gotten bored of the party and snuck off for a little face-sucking. Twilight decided to do what Cadance would do in this situation.

Twilight lifted a hoof to her lips and shushed them. She added a wink and closed the door gently.

At least somepony was having fun tonight.


* * *


Fluttershy wasn’t having any fun tonight.

Her friends had been wonderful, of course. Each of them had attempted to make good on their promise to include her in their own planned activities, but no matter what she did, Fluttershy couldn’t help but feel like an extra wheel. She hadn’t spent more than a few minutes with each of them, trying to enjoy herself and to just be happy to be included in whatever her friends were doing, but it was no use. Finally, when Rainbow Dash had tried to lead her to the V.I.P. area where the Wonderbolts were, Fluttershy had just excused herself by saying she needed to use the washroom.

Now, she found herself standing at the edge of the ballroom, trying to look as small as possible, attempting in vain to disappear into the sea of fabulously dressed ponies. The lovely dress that Rarity had made for her was a gorgeous labor of love, but Fluttershy was starting to think that she would’ve preferred a simpler dress – something that didn’t draw quite so much attention. Several ponies had already come up to her to ask who’d designed it, and Fluttershy just nervously smiled and pointed them in the direction of the buffet tables, where Rarity was holding court with the fashionable types. Spike was standing beside her, shoveling snacks into his mouth and trying not to look as bored as he probably was.

Applejack had her little kiosk set up near the catering tables. She’d resorted to attempting to remake her family recipes into something more visually appealing to the highfalutin crowd, but so far the only interested customer had been Spike whenever he drifted close enough to her stand.

She hadn’t seen Shining Armor since the start of the Gala. He was in the entrance hall, standing with Princess Celestia and greeting guests as they arrived at the party. Surprisingly, Princess Mi Amore Cadenza was also with them. According to Rarity, the Princess of Love was notorious for never attending the Grand Galloping Gala, so it was quite a surprise to see her, apparently. She seemed nice, though, and Spike had nothing but nice things to say about her. Princess Mi Amore Cadenza was also dating their sister, from what he had said, and the girls were all very eager to meet the two of them later.

“Oh, child, that is an absolutely gorgeous dress,” somepony said in her direction.

“Thank you,” Fluttershy replied timidly as she turned and greeted the approaching mare with a friendly smile. She suddenly felt a surge of pride in herself. The first time she’d been approached about her dress she had practically dove under a table in surprise.

The mare was a few years older than she was, but not too much older, and thick around the flanks in a comfortable, matronly way. Atop her head was a very ugly hat – though Fluttershy was much too polite to ever say that aloud – covered in a cornucopia’s worth of wax fruit. At her side was a stallion who gave a curt, disinterested nod as he sat down and smoothed his paunchy belly back into place beneath his bright red cummerbund. He was twice the mare’s age, and the hairpiece he wore seemed to be competing with his wife’s hat to see which was uglier – though, again, Fluttershy would never say that aloud.

“You simply must tell me who your designer is,” the older mare cooed. She seemed to lean into every word with her full weight, and Fluttershy could practically see the italics hanging in the air above the mare’s head. “I’d love to commission something with that ‘natural’ aesthetic to compliment my hat.” She motioned to the spangled silver dress she wore, the sequins catching the light and glittering like it was made of diamonds. “This old thing simply doesn’t cut it for a hat as lovely as this. It was a gift, you know, from the Duchess of Trottingham. The hat, that is, not the dress.”

“My friend Rarity made it for me,” Fluttershy said, nodding towards where Rarity was laughing eagerly with a handsome stallion with a white coat and exquisitely coiffed blonde hair.

“Oh, I see she’s caught Prince Blueblood’s attentions,” the mare tittered, fanning herself with a hoof. Beside her, her husband’s ears had perked up at the mention of the prince’s name, and he was now looking in that direction as well. “He always did have an eye for pretty things.”

Fluttershy blinked as she caught the implication that the older mare was making. “She’s here with my friend Spike,” she explained as she pointed a hoof towards where the dragon in question was eating whole, unshelled clams by tossing them into the air and catching them in his mouth.

“With him, you say? Surely they’re not an item.”

“They are,” Fluttershy said. “They’ve been together for a few months.”

The mare fanned herself feverishly. She was beginning to sway a little, like she was moments away from fainting. Fluttershy might have been worried about the other mare’s health, if she hadn’t been friends with Rarity. Her close friendship with Ponyville’s number one fashion diva had given her a sense for the histrionic exaggerations of a certain class of mare.

“My, my, my, talented and romantically involved with a dragon?” the mare gushed. She turned to her husband and tugged at the lapels of his mauve dinner jacket with bright orange magic. Fluttershy hadn’t even noticed the mare’s horn, hidden as it was beneath a waxy grape bunch in her hat. “I simply must have a dress made by her. She’s so daring! So eccentric!”

“Yes, dear,” the stallion muttered as he allowed himself to be dragged away.

“Thank you, child,” the mare called as she walked away. “It was lovely speaking to you!”

As they were leaving, Fluttershy decided to capitalize on the surge of confidence she felt over how well she’d handled the situation. This was the perfect chance to ask something that had been on her mind all night.

“Oh, um, wait,” Fluttershy called after them. She wasn’t very loud, but luckily her voice still managed to carry over the gentle hum of the orchestra.

“Yes?” the mare asked.

“I was wondering if, maybe, you’d heard anything about the garden?” Fluttershy asked, suddenly feeling the confidence bleed out of her. “I was told that they might be closed tonight and there seems to be a guard at every exit.”

The older couple looked at one another curiously, holding some silent conversation between themselves.

“You know, now that you mention it, there are quite a few more guards than there were last year,” the stallion pointed out. “And I had heard about the garden being closed off.”

“I heard it was because some of the gardening staff didn’t show up for work,” Fluttershy said.

“I suppose even the princesses have trouble finding good help,” the mare snickered.

“I guess,” Fluttershy said, smiling sadly. “I just wanted to ask, though. Have you been to the menagerie before? Is it true that the princess has monkeys?”

“Oh, yes!” the stallion exclaimed, his eyes alight with newfound interest. “Spider monkeys! They’re quite fascinating! But if you ask me, the real attraction is the princess’ kangaroo!”

“Kangaroo?” Fluttershy repeated. Her voice cracked as she spoke, and the word came out as a disappointed little whine.

“Dear, don’t bore the girl,” the stallion’s wife huffed as she rolled her eyes. “I apologize for him. My husband fancies himself a naturalist. Sitting around on the beach and sketching boobies is hardly a respectable hobby for a gentlecolt of his means. If you’ll excuse us, young lady, we must see a mare about a dress.”

The couple left, though the husband looked very much as though he wanted to stay and continue talking.

Fluttershy was up on the tips of her hooves, dancing with nervous energy as she craned her neck to try and see past the crowds and through the windows into the garden. “Ooooooh, kangaroooooooooo~” she quietly whined.

Why did those gardeners have to skip work? If they had shown up, they could’ve done their jobs, the garden would have been open, and she could have been playing with a kangaroo right now, this very second.

She sat down on the floor in a huff, pouting and not even caring that her dress was getting wrinkled. This was turning out to be the worst night ever.

No. She wouldn’t let it end like this. She was going to see the kangaroo, and the monkeys, and the squirrels and beavers, and she was going to hug each and every critter in that menagerie before the night was through, no matter what it took. The question was: how was she going to get past all the guards?

What she needed was a distraction.

A loud, static-filled thumping noise suddenly filled the air, cutting across every conversation in the room and drawing every set of eyes toward the stage at the front of the ballroom. Pinkie Pie had taken the stage and found a microphone. She was testing the connection to the tall speakers on either side of the stage by tapping the mic with her hoof. The ponies in the orchestra behind her were glaring at her in annoyance at the interruption.

“Hey, all you party-ponies!” she crowed into the microphone. “My name’s Pinkie Pie, and I think it’s time to crank this par-tay up to twelve! You know what really breaks the ice? A little game I call the Pony-Pokey!”


* * *


Twilight wandered through the garden, dragging her hooves as she walked in the tall, unmowed grass. Luna’s moon hung overhead, as bright and full as any illumination spell. She’d seen a few guards still on patrol, but for the most part she was alone. That would change, though, once the shield was up and the second stage of the operation was in full swing.

She had considered going back to Cadance’s room – which was more or less their room, now – but she wasn’t quite ready for that yet. And she definitely wasn’t about to go back to her quarters in the barracks, not while her fellow guards were preparing themselves for the next push. She wasn’t up to facing them, either.

Her search for solitude had led her to the garden, and some small part of her had briefly fantasized about the possibility that she might somehow stumble upon something that everypony else had missed. But now that she was here, she realized how silly a notion that was. The Canterlot Garden was one of the most expansive parks in all of Equestria, and she was just one pony. What were the odds that she was going to find something that the rest of the Royal Guards had overlooked?

Twilight sat in the grass and rubbed tiredly at her face. Maybe she should have gone to bed after all.

She was frustrated, and weary, and worried. She needed to calm down.

She closed her eyes, taking in a deep breath and drawing in the scents of the garden. Winter would be coming soon, and she could already sense the first blush of the frigid winter nights in the air. In just a few weeks Cloudsdale would start making the rounds to disperse snow across all of Equestria. She focused on that sensation and invited the cold air to nip at her lungs with a few more heavy breaths. She opened her eyes and felt better, more grounded.

She was so caught up in enjoying the night that she almost didn’t hear the sound of somepony gently dropping from the sky onto the grass behind her.

“Think your princess is back inside the castle,” Spitfire quipped as she took a seat beside Twilight.

“I just wanted to sit out here for a little bit…” Twilight said sadly.

“Yeah, I get that…” Spitfire sighed. “Figured you might want to be alone…”

Twilight quirked an eyebrow at that. “So you came looking for me?”

Spitfire shrugged. “I wanted to be alone, too.”

They sat in the damp grass for a while, just listening to the sound of chirping crickets and the distant hooting of an owl. The silence was comfortable as they wallowed in their mutual failure.

“How long are we sitting here for, anyway?” Spitfire asked.

“Dunno,” Twilight said, shrugging. “Until we stop being sadsacks, I guess… Might be a while… I think that I maybe don’t cope with failure too well.”

“We did good work, Sparkle,” Spitfire said limply.

“I know.”

“They’ll get found.”

“I know that, too.” The chilly air was starting to get her sinuses going. Her nose was running a bit, and she wiped it on the back of her hoof.  “It’s hard not to take it personally, though.”

Spitfire fell backwards, her wings spread out behind her as she looked up at the stars. “We did our job, and we covered a lot of ground. They can’t expect much more of us than that.”

“No, but we can always expect more of ourselves.”

Spitfire made a sort of annoyed noise half-way between a snort and a scoff, like she had a fishbone caught in her throat. “I’m trying to talk myself down here, Sparkle, and you’re not making it easy,” she snapped. She put her hooves in the air, the tips held a few inches apart. “I swear, I’m just this close to going out and kicking down some doors on my own.”

Twilight chuckled. “Sorry.”

Twilight got up and whipped her tail, flinging away the moisture from the wet grass. As she stood, she spotted a familiar structure in the distance. She smiled wistfully, drawn towards the white gazebo before she even realized she was walking.

Twilight stepped onto the wooden patio and knocked on one of the ivy-covered wooden pillars holding the roof up, smiling despite the mood she was in. She hadn’t been here in a while, but this was the place that she and Cadance had had their first ‘date’. It would always be special to her, and the memory of that rainy summer day undid a few of the knots she still felt in her gut.

“This is a cute little hut,” Spitfire commented as she cantered up beside her.

“It’s a gazebo,” Twilight corrected.

“Oh, well, laa-dee-daa, Prenchy La Pew-Pew,” Spitfire mocked.

“Excuse me for using the correct terminology,” Twilight said with a huff. She walked out to the middle of the patio, feeling the urge to just sit and look out at the reflecting pool. 

The creak of loose floorboards was sudden and loud enough that it gave Twilight pause. She looked down and pressed her weight a little harder, coaxing a loud squeal from the wooden deck. She didn’t remember the floorboards being so creaky the last time she’d been here, and that had been with the combined weight of herself and Cadance as they… well, suffice it to say, they were putting a lot of pressure on these boards, and they hadn’t made a peep.

“Something wrong?” Spitfire asked.

“These floorboards are loose,” Twilight said as she shifted her weight, checking the surrounding floorboards and finding that they were likewise creaky. “I think that maybe—”

The floorboards cracked and splintered, giving out under the weight of Twilight dressed in her full armor. Twilight felt Spitfire’s arms wrap around her in an attempt to pull her away. Her weight shifted for only a moment before she heard more cracking lumber, and the sensation of freefall came over her.

It only lasted a moment before she and Spitfire hit the ground, landing at an angle with enough force to knock the wind out of her. Even with the small amount of padding under the armor, metal plates didn’t do much for blunt impacts.

Somehow, in their short tumble, Spitfire had ended up beneath Twilight. The pegasus shouted in pain as the full weight of an armored guard fell on top of her. The hole they’d fallen into turned into a hard slope, and the two of them began sliding into the darkness.

Twilight groped at the walls with her hooves, trying to find purchase to slow her descent, but her armored shoes proved poor climbing equipment, succeeding in little more than digging deep gouges in the semi-soft earth. Something in the tunnel slammed against the side of Twilight’s head. A rock or a root, or some other protrusion, struck her hard enough to make her vision swim.

It was another minute or so before Twilight realized that she wasn’t falling anymore, and that the sense of vertigo she was feeling was from the hit she’d taken on the tumble down. She held a hoof to her head with a sickly groan. The impact of whatever she’d hit on the way down had knocked her galea off.

Twilight shook her head, clearing away the last of the stars just in time to see something shifting in the pitch black darkness with a sickly moan. She cast an illumination spell, big and bright as she could. Spitfire was a short distance away, slowly rising to her hooves.

“You okay?” Twilight asked as she checked herself over for injuries. Luckily, her chakram was still tightly secured in the holster built into her armor, so at least she was still armed.

“Feels like a freakin’ house fell on top of me, but I’m good, I think,” Spitfire replied. She sat down and touched herself all over, occasionally wincing whenever she touched what must have been a sore spot. All her limbs were at the right angles, and aside from a few small cuts, she’d come out of their tumble fairly unscathed. “Pegasi may not be as tough as earth ponies, but we’re made to take a tumble. How are you holding up?”

“I lost my helmet,” Twilight answered, “but fine, otherwise.”

Twilight swung her head around, taking in their surroundings. They were underground, that much was certain. They were in some sort of small cavern. Stalactites and stalagmites jutted out of the ground and ceiling, and Twilight’s light reflected off the walls like thousands of twinkling stars. Here and there were enormous crystals – most likely some sort of quartz – and some of them were nearly the size of a fully grown pony. 

“Where the hay are we?” Spitfire asked as she sidled up to Twilight. As a pegasus, Spitfire didn’t have the sort of magic that allowed her cast a lighting spell, so at the moment she was entirely dependent on Twilight’s light.

“We’re under Canterlot,” Twilight said, “in the old mining tunnels.”

“Mining tunnels?” Spitfire asked in surprise.

“Yeah, they haven’t been used in hundreds of years, but a long time ago, ponies used to mine this place for granite and quartz. Quartz is a pretty useful material with lots of industrial applications. Princess Celestia put a stop to it, though. She didn’t like the idea of hollowing out the mountain that her city was built on top of.”

“I grew up in Canterlot and I’ve never heard anything about this before.”

“You wouldn’t have,” Twilight explained. “Like I said, nopony’s been down here for hundreds of years. These mines run really deep into the mountain, and the entrance tunnels all either collapsed on their own or were collapsed forcibly to seal them off.”

“Speaking of that,” Spitfire sighed. “It looks like our way back up is done for.”

Sure enough, spilling out of the wall behind them was a pile of dirt and loose stones that had obviously come from the tunnel that had led them down here. Twilight looked around but couldn’t find her helmet anywhere. It was probably still in the tunnel, buried under a few tons of dirt and rock.

“I’m pretty sure that hole wasn’t under the gazebo just a few months ago, so I think it’s safe to say we’ve figured out what happened to those missing gardeners…” Twilight said. “I hadn’t even considered the idea that somepony might be insane enough to dig tunnels this deep into the mountain… What do you want to bet that there’s more of these tunnels around?”

“There’s probably a few around that park near Sunday Street,” Spitfire suggested. “Booby-trap, you think?”

Twilight shook her head. “Not the gazebo. Whoever dug the tunnel probably just pulled out the support beams under the floorboards. The tunnel, though… yeah, that might’ve been made to collapse. That’s actually an old earth pony strategy. You dig a tunnel, get the enemy to chase you down it, and kick out a keystone that makes it collapse on whoever is chasing you. You’ve got to know what you’re doing to set it up without collapsing the tunnel on yourself, but it’s really effective.”

Twilight rubbed tenderly at the little lump that was forming under her mane. “That’s probably what I hit on the way down.”

“So you’re saying this was just dumb luck that we stumbled on this place?” Spitfire asked incredulously.

“Seems that way…” Twilight replied cautiously, not liking the strained quality of Spitfire’s voice.

Twilight expected some kind of ribbing, or a joke, or… something, out of Spitfire. But of all the things that Spitfire could have said or done, Twilight would never have guessed she would start laughing.

“Twilight Sparkle, I swear,” Spitfire snickered, “I’ve heard of ponies running head-first into trouble, but you’re the only one I know of that can fall flank-first into it.”

“Should you really be laughing right now?” Twilight hissed at her. “We’re in enemy territory.”

“Right, right.” Spitfire cleared her throat a few times, managing to get her giggle fit under control. She held a hoof over her head and slowly lowered it, miming the act of physically wiping the amusement away until her expression was more appropriately serious. “Warrior face.”

Twilight could only shake her head at Spitfire’s antics. She couldn’t blame the other girl, though. Excitement and trepidation made for a stressful mix, and some ponies naturally defused that sort of tension by cracking wise.

Twilight took a moment to appreciate the situation they were in. They were trapped underground and separated from any possible backup, running on very little sleep, and facing an unknown enemy with civilian lives in the balance.

It was almost enough to make her groan.

“How could the same stuff happen to the same girl twice?” she muttered under her breath.

“How do you want to proceed, here?” Spitfire asked. “It’s pitch-damn-black down here and you’re our only light, unless you want to go ahead and cast a couple of those night vision spells the unicorn recon scouts use.”

Twilight frowned. She did know a few spells for night vision. After returning home from her experience in the Necropolis, it was one of the first things she’d looked into. She now knew several variations that gave differing types of vision by amplifying and modifying available light, but none of them would help her in a place like this. Without her illumination spell, they’d be in pitch black, and Twilight only knew one spell that would work in the complete and total absence of light. Sadly, the spell couldn’t be cast on a pegasus like Spitfire.

“The only one I know that will work in total darkness only works for unicorns… See, there’s a thought experiment called Clover’s Prism that explains something about the nature of light and how unicorn magic interacts with it. Basically—”

“Basically it’d be like trying to plug my hairdryer into a minotaur power outlet,” Spitfire said glibly, cutting off Twilight’s long-winded explanation.

“That’s… not completely incorrect…” Twilight reluctantly admitted. “I know that pegasi have great night vision, how good is it?”

“Even bat ponies need some light,” Spitfire explained. “You’d need to be an actual bat, with sonar or whatever, to see your way around down here without something giving off a little light.”

Twilight tapped her chin in thought. “This could be a problem then… There are possible hostiles down here with us, and we can’t travel without light.”

“You could always night vision yourself and scout ahead, then come get me if it’s safe,” Spitfire suggested. “That is, if that heavy armor of yours isn’t going to be a problem.”

“This is custom-made Royal Guard armor,” Twilight replied tersely. Spitfire was a friend, but that didn’t mean Twilight would stand for anypony questioning the practicality of her beloved armor. “If I’m careful with my steps it won’t make a peep. As for that idea…”

Twilight chewed her lip as she considered Spitfire’s proposal. It had a lot of merit, but also a lot of negatives. While it appeared on the outside to be a fairly safe option, there was the possibility that they were dealing with an enemy force with their own night vision capabilities. Any advantage would be lost in that scenario, and Twilight would be separated from Spitfire, which made them both vulnerable. If something were to happen to her while she was scouting, Spitfire would be a sitting duck.

Twilight also hated the idea of anypony being in the dark. Back in the Necropolis, light had saved her life and the lives of Cadance and Basenji. The idea that light always meant safety – without question – was deeply ingrained in her psyche. It was hard to go against that instinct and consider the darkness as its own form of protection.

Twilight shook her head. “I don’t like the idea of leaving you in the dark…” she explained. “I think having the light is worth the risk.”

“Can we at least keep it in our pocket as an option?” Spitfire countered.

Twilight shifted her weight uncomfortably. “Fine,” she replied. “If it looks like it’s the best way to proceed, we’ll have it as an open option.”

With a consensus reached, they made their way further into the mines with Twilight at the point and Spitfire close behind.

The cavern turned out to be just one chamber of a series, linked together by tunnels dug out of solid rock by the industrious earth pony miners that had originally worked this place. The walls still bore the signs of digging, and occasionally they would come across broken or abandoned tools left behind by miners.

The rock formations jutting out of the ground and half-dug pits they came across made their exploration slow goings. The tunnels connecting the chambers sometimes had smaller antechambers that split off into dead ends, and every time they were about to cross one, they would have to cautiously peek around the corners for signs of attack.

They’d just entered a cavern with a ceiling tall enough that Spitfire could have spread her wings if she’d had a light source of her own, when a pitiful mewling sound echoed softly off the walls. Twilight quickly signaled for Spitfire to hold back as she perked her ears. She swiveled them around, listening intently for the sound to repeat itself, just in case her mind was playing tricks on her. It came again, this time a little louder and accompanied by something that sounded like somepony groaning painfully.

Twilight felt Spitfire tapping her flank to get her attention. Spitfire signed that she’d heard the noise, too.

There were several paths branching off from the chamber they were in, but the sound carried well in the nearly silent tunnels, and Twilight quickly pinpointed its source. Twilight made her way towards the sound, dimming her light as much as she could without completely letting the spell die. Too bright of a light would give away their approach, and no light at all would leave them stumbling blindly through a dangerous tunnel with sharp rocks and rusty iron tools everywhere.

As they were getting closer, the moaning had curiously devolved into fitful sobs. That was something Twilight hadn’t expected to hear, and it was surprising enough that she stopped in her tracks.

She felt another gentle tap on her flank as Spitfire drew her attention. She cocked her head questioningly and Spitfire replied by giving the sign for a scout to move forward.

Twilight frowned at that. There was no doubt that Spitfire was referring to the conversation they’d had earlier. Twilight shook her head, denying the suggestion, but Spitfire repeated the sign with a little more force.

She still hated the idea of leaving a friend in total darkness, but Spitfire was right, scouting ahead with her night vision spell was definitely the safest option here. If she blindly announced their presence, whoever they’d stumbled upon might get spooked and run off further into the mines. It was better to approach slowly and get the lay of the land.

Twilight reluctantly signaled agreement and shut off her light completely. By design, casting a night vision spell barely even lit a unicorn’s horn with the usual shimmering magical field. Twilight blinked her eyes a few times, adjusting to the odd sensation of having eyeballs a degree or two warmer than the rest of her body. She scanned around, taking in everything around her. She could see perfectly well, though all the colors she saw were tinted with a soft blue. She turned to Spitfire, and the warmth of her body heat shifted the blueness, coloring the edges of her silhouette and the details of her face with a bright, cheery orange.

Twilight carefully drew her chakram with her teeth, just in case she needed it. It was most effective with some of her magic charged through it, but she could still fling it fairly hard, even without magic. She inched forward, being extra careful to not make any noise. The chamber was a lot like the one that she and Spitfire had found themselves in. It looked natural, but showed signs of digging – some of which was recent. The room was a dead end, and another collapsed tunnel spilled dirt and stones out of the far wall. A mare was sitting upright a few paces away from the ruined tunnel, her face buried in her hooves as she sobbed.

For a moment, Twilight thought they might have found one of the missing ponies, but that excitement was short-lived. This mare was wearing a ball gown and she had flowers woven into her long hair, which meant that she was probably one of the guests from the Gala.

The sound of stone cracking against stone reverberated off the walls from behind Twilight. She looked back to see Spitfire rubbing tenderly at her hoof. A rock was slowly rolling away from the wall nearest her.

The sobbing stopped and the mare called out to them after a few seconds of tense silence. “Hello? Is somepony there?”

Twilight shot a reproachful look at Spitfire. Spitfire, even though she couldn’t see the glare Twilight was leveling at her, had the good grace to look embarrassed.

The crying mare appeared more disoriented than hostile so Twilight sheathed her weapon.

“This is the Royal Guard,” Twilight called as she dropped the night vision and cast her illumination spell. She held her head high and tried to look as authoritative as she could. “Do you require assistance?”

With actual light, Twilight could make out more of the girl’s features. She was actually quite pretty, and had a long pink mane and a yellow coat.

The mare held a hoof over her eyes and turned away from Twilight’s spell. Depending on how long she’d been in the dark, she was probably extremely sensitive to light at the moment. As she turned away, Twilight caught sight of a dark red smear of blood across the side of her face.

“Yes, I do,” the girl quickly replied. “Please help me.”

“Whoa, hold on, I know this chick,” Spitfire said as she stepped out from behind Twilight. “She’s friends with Rainbow Dash, the girl that won this year’s Best Young Flyers competition. She’s one of the Elements of Harmony.”

Twilight blinked. Pink hair, yellow coat, kind of cute…

“Are you Fluttershy?” Twilight asked.

“Y-yes?” Fluttershy answered timidly. “Could you please turn down that light, if you don’t need it to be that bright, that is?”

“Oh, sorry about that,” Twilight apologized as she lowered the intensity of her spell.

“Thank you,” Fluttershy said. She lowered her hoof and squinted at Twilight’s face. She was swaying a bit, and had a look in her eyes that made her look vaguely drunk. “Do I know you?”

“I’m Decurion Twilight Sparkle,” Twilight said as she approached the wounded girl. From what she knew about Fluttershy from Shining Armor’s letters, Fluttershy was very skittish around strangers, so she moved slowly.

“Twilight Sparkle?” she repeated. She repeated the name a few more times under her breath like she was trying to recall some distant memory. She gasped in drunken recognition. “Are you Shining and Spike’s sister?”

“Yeah, I am. I’m here to help you.” Twilight sat down and took Fluttershy’s face between her hooves to examine her. She turned Fluttershy’s head and found that the blood was coming from a long, shallow cut on her temple. “What happened? How’d you get down here?”

“I-I was in the garden. I know I wasn’t supposed to be, I’m sorry…”

“That’s okay, that doesn’t matter right now,” Twilight assured her with a gentle smile. “Just tell me what happened next.”

“I just wanted to see the kangaroo…” Fluttershy explained. “It’s stupid, but… I snuck out of the Gala to visit the menagerie. There were fewer guards than I thought there would be, so once I was out of the ballroom it was easy. The animals… I don’t think they wanted to be my friends. I kind of got a little carried away when I saw a bunny run into a bush. I jumped in after it and fell down a hole.”

“Why didn’t you just fly out?” Spitfire asked. She was standing watch and squinting into the darkened tunnel behind them.

“Why didn’t you?” Twilight countered as she cast a Lightning Bug spell, immediately bathing the chamber in a soft white glow.

“Because a house fell on top of me,” Spitfire snarked. “Thanks for the light.”

“Are you two fighting?” Fluttershy asked nervously. “Please don’t fight.”

“We’re not fighting, I promise,” Twilight said as she rolled her eyes. “We’re friends. It’s just how we are.”

“Oh, that’s good,” Fluttershy said, visibly relaxing. “Rainbow Dash and Applejack are like that sometimes.”

Twilight used her magic to open Fluttershy’s eyes a little wider so she could check her pupils. “So you fell down a hole,” she said, coaxing more of the story out of her patient. “What next?”

“Well, I did try to stop myself from falling, but my wings got wrapped up in my dress. I hit the ground and slid down here.”

“Is that when you hit your head?” Twilight asked.

“No, that was after. It was dark, so I felt around until I found the tunnel I fell out of. I tried climbing up, but I kicked something hard, and I think it made the tunnel collapse. The ground started rumbling and I couldn’t see, so I got scared and ran back the way I came. I tripped and hit my head on something on the way down.”

“Did you pass out?” Spitfire asked.

“No, I just got really dizzy. After a little while you two showed up. It was maybe ten minutes? I’m not sure, I wasn’t thinking very clearly.”

“You’ve already stopped swaying,” Twilight said as she finished her examination, “so I’m guessing you just had a minor concussion. That can be very dangerous, even if you don’t pass out, so we definitely need to get you out of here as soon as we can so a medic can check you over.”

“A concussion? That makes sense. Why do I feel wet?” Fluttershy wiped at the side of her face, smearing the blood all over her cheek. “Oh, I’m bleeding,” she commented as she stared at her red-stained hoof.

Twilight was impressed by how well Fluttershy was taking that revelation. Most ponies fainted at the sight of blood. Maybe it was just some lingering disorientation making her numb to the sight of her own blood, or maybe this timid girl was made of sterner stuff than Twilight had been led to believe from Shining’s letters.

“Head wounds bleed a lot,” Spitfire commented. “But if Twilight says you’re fine for now, you’re probably okay.”

“I know,” Fluttershy replied. “I take care of a lot of animals. Sometimes they get cuts on their little heads that bleed a lot. You don’t have any disinfectant, do you?”

Twilight shook her head. “We kind of ended up here the same way you did, more or less. I don’t have any first aid supplies. I think we can dress the wound, but I’m afraid we might need to tear up your dress for it.”

Fluttershy’s dress was certainly beautiful, but a few tumbles into a filthy mine shaft and a bleeding head wound had left the fabric somewhat worse for wear. What bits of the dress weren’t covered in dirt and blood were torn, most likely during her blind attempts to escape. Tattered bits of green cloth were hanging from sharp rock formations around the cavern. It was a miracle that poor Fluttershy hadn’t jabbed her eye out or otherwise hurt herself.

Fluttershy sighed as she took her first appraising glance at her dress. “It’s already ruined,” she lamented. “Poor Rarity went through so much trouble to make it, and I destroyed it before the night was even finished… I’ll have to make it up to her later.”

Twilight helped the injured girl stand and used her magic to help her out of her dress. Twilight didn’t wear many fancy outfits, but she’d taken a few off of Cadance once or twice, so it went quickly. A long strip of green cloth was torn from the cleanest part of the dress and wrapped around Fluttershy’s head, only tight enough to staunch the bleeding.

“Set to go?” Spitfire asked. “I don’t like us standing around in one place for too long.”

“Agreed,” Twilight said. “We’ve got Fluttershy now though, so we have to restructure our priorities. Protect the civ, secure another tunnel and get help, find the missing ponies, find the foalnappers – in that order.”

Fluttershy chirped in surprise, turning away from the enormous crystal that she was checking her reflection in. She tilted her head questioningly. “Excuse me, did you just say something about missing ponies and foalnappers?”

Twilight frowned at the question. “Yeah… you ask that like you don’t know anything about it. Princess Cadance sent me a letter that said Shining Armor had been summoned to the castle to fill him in on what was happening. He was supposed to let you all know in case the Elements were needed. Did he not tell you?”

“N-no…” she said, hanging her head sadly. “Is that why Princess Celestia wanted to see him? All he told us was that the garden was going to be closed… Why wouldn’t he tell us something like that…?”

Twilight looked to Spitfire, hoping that her friend might have some idea of what to say, but the other pegasus didn’t have anything to offer beyond her own disapproving frown. That was fair, Twilight supposed. Spitfire seemed to know Rainbow Dash, but apparently she only knew Fluttershy as a friend of a mutual acquaintance. There wasn’t really much that she could say. Twilight wasn’t much in the mood to butt her nose into her brothers’ friendships, either.

“I could make a guess…” Twilight said cautiously, “but you should probably just ask him yourself when we get out of here.”

Fluttershy nodded. She took a deep breath and stood straight, her head held high. “Tell me about these missing ponies. What can I do to help?”

The shy girl’s determination was enough to make Twilight smile. She gave Fluttershy the short version of events to this point, and within minutes they were on the move again.

Despite her enthusiasm, there wasn’t actually much that Fluttershy could do. By her own admission she wasn’t much of a fighter, and when she and her friends went on adventures, she usually just followed everypony else’s lead. Still, she was determined not to be a liability, and followed every instruction she was given.

Twilight took the point again, with Fluttershy behind her and Spitfire bringing up the rear in a protective formation. Fluttershy was a non-combatant, so if it came down to fighting, her job was to run away. She wouldn’t get very far without any light, but at least she could find somewhere to hide.

They made their way through the caverns even more slowly than before. Physical exercise wasn’t very highly recommended for anypony with a concussion, so Twilight did her best to set a pace that wouldn’t tax the poor girl. Fluttershy seemed to be in okay shape, but head injuries weren’t something you wanted to mess around with. Every now and again Twilight made sure to quietly ask Fluttershy if she was okay, listening carefully for any signs of distress – slurring or ragged breathing – that might indicate that her condition was degrading.

On and on they went, mindful of their steps and their ears perked and listening for signs that they weren’t alone. All they could hear was the sound of their own hoofsteps. It was almost more disturbing that they hadn’t seen hide nor hair of anypony else in the mines. The Necropolis may have been an ancient tomb filled with thousands upon thousands of mummified corpses, and crawling with nightmare beasts conjured by the dark magic of a Death God, but at least they’d known for certain that they weren’t alone in that place. These mines were something different altogether. The danger was an expectation that hung in the air, a feeling at the back of her skull that something was wrong, though she didn’t have any tangible proof of it.

There was also the fact that the mines were becoming more labyrinthine. The tunnels stopped dead ending, and instead continued on into other branching tunnels, leading off to other small caverns. It was no longer prudent to explore every tunnel they came across, not when it could get them even more lost than they already were, and Twilight hated how exposed it made her feel. The only thing to do was to just choose tunnels that were sloping upwards, moving closer to the top of the mountain, closer to Canterlot.

They were exiting a tunnel that led into an enormous cavern when they hit their next snag. The cavern had opened up to reveal a wide chasm that bisected the chamber into two halves. A short bit of railroad track with an overturned cart was on their side of the gap, but the bridge that supported the tracks across the divide ended only a few paces out.

“Hold up,” Twilight commanded, raising a hoof to sign her command out of reflex. “I think we might have a problem here.”

Twilight increased the strength of her light and carefully walked up to the ledge. It wasn’t a very long drop, but the pit was lined with jagged crystal formations and sharp looking protrusions. Bits of rotted wood and rusted rail track from the collapsed bridge were scattered across the rocks. It was starting to look like this entire underground system was one big death trap. Even in the modern times, mining was a dangerous job, but Twilight couldn’t even imagine coming to work in a place like this every day.

“Doesn’t look like much of a problem to me,” Spitfire taunted as she rose into the air and hovered above the pit. “Fluttershy and I will do just fine. Looks like you’re going to need us to carry you, though.”

“Um, I’m not a very strong flyer…” Fluttershy said sheepishly. “I don’t think I’ll be much help.”

“That’s fine,” Twilight said dismissively as she backed away from the edge. She tilted her head, eyeballing some measurements and doing the calculations in her head. The bright white light at the tip of her horn was joined by a brilliant pink shimmer of building magic. “How far do you think that gap is? Looks like maybe twenty meters to me.”

“Uh, I guess it looks about that…” Spitfire said, frowning at the question. “Why?”

Twilight broke into a sprint.

She trotted full steam at the chasm, heedless of the shocked protests of her two companions, and leapt into the air with all her strength. Her armor might have been heavy to a pegasus like Spitfire – whose uniform consisted of a spandex unitard and a pair of goggles – but to a Royal Guard who trained in her armor every day, it was just like any other clothing.

Twilight let the arc of her jump carry her as far as it could. The moment she felt herself beginning to fall she released her spell. There was a blinding flash of magic, followed by a split second of darkness as Twilight winked out of existence. The light returned as Twilight rematerialized on the other side of the cavern, landing safely only a pace or two away from the edge. The momentum carried over with the teleportation, and she kicked up a small cloud of dust and ground up crystals as she slid to a stop.

Twilight let out the breath she’d been holding. “Good job breaking your record...” she quietly praised herself.

“When the hay did you learn to do that?” Spitfire demanded as she crossed the distance in the blink of an eye. Fluttershy trailed behind her at a much slower pace.

“It’s useful, right?” Twilight said with a proud grin. “I’ve been working really hard to master teleportation for the last few months. It’s really starting to pay off.”

“If you could do that then what was the deal with that jump?” Spitfire asked, her shock giving way to irritation. “Were you just trying to scare the piss out of us?”

Twilight rubbed at the back of her head sheepishly. “Heh, sorry, I probably should’ve given you some warning, but I was busy running the math in my head. The gap was just a little bit outside my current theoretical maximum range.”

“So if you hadn’t jumped, you would’ve…?” Spitfire made a long, drawn out whistle and mimed with her hooves something falling from the sky and splattering on the ground.

Twilight just shrugged.

“Are you really Spike and Shining’s little sister…?” Fluttershy asked in disbelief.

“That's what mom and dad said,” Twilight replied with a chuckle.

Twilight ignored the odd looks she was getting – Cadance’s queer sense of humor was probably starting to rub off on her – and turned away to once more take point. Spitfire quickly fell back into position at the rear and Fluttershy nervously took her place between them once she realized what they were doing.

Twilight frowned as she surveyed the paths now opened to them. This side of the chasm had several tunnels leading off in different directions, and they were all sloping upwards at more or less the same shallow grade, so her idea to just always pick whichever tunnel moved upwards wasn’t much help in this instance.

In the end, she decided to just follow the tracks as far as they would go. The tracks were for carts that were meant to carry the precious minerals that the miners extricated from the earth, which meant that the tracks all probably started at one of the entrances to the mines. All of the original entrances had been sealed when the operation had been closed down, but lacking any other plan, heading towards the center of the mines was as good a choice as any.

As they wound their way further into the mines, Fluttershy was clearly becoming more and more agitated. Twilight was beginning to suspect that the timid girl might not do well in enclosed spaces, but a glance back at Spitfire showed similar – though less pronounced – signs of ill-ease. Maybe it was a pegasus thing.

Twilight’s eyes met with Fluttershy’s for a moment, and she could read the look of dread as clear as day.

“I really don’t like this place…” Fluttershy muttered. Her voice was almost pleading. “It’s dark, and spooky, and I feel like something might jump out at any second…”

“I’ll admit that I’m not much of a fan, either,” Spitfire agreed. She was trying to keep her voice light, like she was making a joke, but there was an undercurrent of discomfort that Twilight managed to pick up on.

“It’s okay to be afraid,” Twilight said. She directed the statement to Fluttershy, but said it loudly enough that her words would carry clearly back to Spitfire. Carrying a conversation definitely wasn’t tactically advisable, but experience told her that that was secondary to reassuring her companions. “Believe it or not… I’ve been in a situation like this before… and what I took away from that experience was that being afraid is a good thing.”

“How can being afraid be a good thing?” Fluttershy asked. “My friend Pinkie Pie taught me that you should laugh your fears away if you get too scared.”

“Lots of ponies use humor to cope with stress,” Twilight conceded. “I do it myself, sometimes.” She jerked her head in Spitfire’s direction. “Spitfire does it constantly. But the thing is, fear is perfectly natural. It’s your body telling you that you’re in danger. It’s all of your senses screaming at you that something is wrong. Fear and pain are tools that you can use, as long as you don’t let them control you.”

“That’s easy for you to say…” Fluttershy mumbled sadly. “I’m not a soldier like you and Captain Spitfire… I’m not brave at all…”

“You’re scared, but your hooves are still moving, aren’t they?” Twilight pointed out as she tossed a reassuring grin over her shoulder. “Believe me, sometimes the bravest thing you can do is to just keep walking forward, one step at a time.”

Fluttershy nodded, trying to return the grin with one of her own. Her smile was a little shaky, and her cheeks looked a little flush, but Fluttershy was holding her head higher, and that was what mattered.

The musty smell of dry earth was soon replaced by something with a tinge of copper in it. Twilight pulled up short, her nostrils flaring as she deeply inhaled the acrid scent.

“What’s wrong?” Spitfire asked. Her face went sour as she finally caught a whiff of what Twilight had smelled. “Son of a… is that what I think it is?”

“Yeah, that’s blood,” Twilight said, a little ashamed at how easily she was able to place the scent. “We need to check it out.”

Spitfire nodded grimly, but Fluttershy was shaking her head desperately. Twilight turned to the shyer of the two pegasi – making sure to keep an eye open for trouble – and gave her a tap on the shoulder. “We have to do it, Fluttershy. We need to find out what’s going on down here. Can I trust you to keep walking?”

Fluttershy mouth opened wordlessly a few times. The only sound she could make was a stifled choking noise, like whatever she wanted to say was physically stuck in her throat. After a few attempts, she managed a shuddering sigh that seemed to knock loose whatever was stuck inside her.

“If… if you really think we need to… I’ll be fine. I can be brave, just like you said.”

“Good girl,” Twilight said as she gave Fluttershy another gentle tap on the shoulder. “Just keep walking and I promise I’ll get you home to your friends. Shining Armor wouldn’t be too happy with me if I let one of the girls in his harem get hurt.”

As she watched Fluttershy flush an almost violent shade of red, Twilight wondered again if maybe Cadance wasn’t rubbing off on her a little too much. Even Spitfire was sporting a grin at the joke.

They followed the trail to a fork in the path. The tracks veered off to the left, and to the right was another darkened tunnel, the same as the countless others they’d wandered through. Twilight lifted her nose and sniffed. The smell was strongest coming from the tunnel on the right.

“This way,” she whispered as she led her group down the correct path.

They didn’t have to travel far before they realized that something was glowing in the chamber ahead. Twilight hadn’t noticed it in the glare of her own illumination spell until Fluttershy pointed it out. Twilight levitated her weapon out of its holster, letting it hang in the air above her, poised and at the ready.

The light turned out to be from crystals that were still half buried in the walls. Somepony had enchanted them to shine with a serviceably bright white glow, and Twilight almost wished that they hadn’t. She wasn’t squeamish, not after all she’d seen, but the sight that awaited her as she stepped into the brightly lit cavern was enough to make her feel nauseous.

The ground was stained with something that smelled an awful lot like blood, but the color was all wrong. Instead of the dark black of spilled blood, the ground was tinted a deep emerald color. Scattered around the room were formless piles of black, lumpy flesh that oozed with the strange green fluid.

“Sun above…” Spitfire whispered.

Fluttershy didn’t say anything. She just stood there, trembling like a leaf, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Twilight shook off the last of the initial shock and dropped her unnecessary illumination spell as she strode into the room. The blood had pooled in places where the ground was uneven, and the sound of Twilight’s shoes splashing in the liquid coaxed a terrified little squeak out of Fluttershy. Twilight ignored it and went to the nearest of the fleshy piles.

Up close, the… meat… was a greasy onyx color, and had a texture like the leather that griffons were sometimes known to make. It was fairly large, too – perhaps just a bit larger than a watermelon.

She prodded at the veiny mass with her chakram, using it as a probe to get a better look at the substance. It was strange. This was definitely some kind of meat, but even torn apart, she should’ve been able to at least guess at what it used to be.

“What is all this?” Spitfire asked.

“I’m not sure…” Twilight admitted. “Whatever this is… it’s not equine…”

She turned back to the rest of her group. Spitfire was wide-eyed and alert, licking her lips nervously, while Fluttershy stood stock-still, tears still falling down her face. Twilight hated herself for what she was about to say.

“Fluttershy, I need your help.”

“No,” Fluttershy said, shaking her head in fear. She backed up until her rump was pressed against the wall.

“Yes, Fluttershy,” Twilight gently urged her. “I know this is scary, but my brother told me that you know animals, and I need your help to figure out what happened here. Those missing ponies we were looking for? They might be down here and… whatever all of this is, it’s a clue. The more I know, the more I can do to help.”

Fluttershy closed her eyes, her head shaking almost violently as she chanted under her breath. “No, no, no, no…”

She continued chanting her refusal even as she stepped forward, one hoof in front of the other. She froze the moment her hoof landed in a puddle with a wet splash. She filled her lungs with a sharp, almost gasping breath. For a moment, Twilight was afraid that Fluttershy might run away, but yet again the demure pegasus surprised her.

Fluttershy opened her eyes and stepped forward, splashing through the gore with steely determination in her eyes. She walked right up and began prodding at the mass with a stained hoof. She narrowed her eyes appraisingly and leaned closer to sniff at the object, the end of her long mane dipping into the slime as she did so.

“This is some sort of egg,” Fluttershy explained clinically. “The outer membrane’s been cut open, but I’m not sure what it was done with. It was probably sharp, though, to cleanly press through such thick skin.”

“So you’ve seen something like this before?” Twilight asked.

“No,” Fluttershy admitted. She flicked her tail, sending flecks of the nasty fluid into the air. “But this green stuff? It mostly smells like blood, but there’s also a hint of something salty and sweet in it, so I think it might be some kind of albumen.”

Twilight blinked. “Egg white?”

Fluttershy nodded. “Nutrients for whatever was inside. The eggs were punctured and all the fluid spilled out.” She thrust out her arm, sweeping over the room. There were dozens of the punctured egg sacs lying around – enough for an army. “There are a lot of eggs, so there’s a lot of fluid.”

“And you’re sure they were cut open? They didn’t hatch on their own?”

Fluttershy walked a few paces away, towards another of the eggs. She poked at it for a few moments before nodding. “Definitely didn’t hatch on their own,” Fluttershy confidently declared.

The sound of more splashing hoofsteps drew their attention back to Spitfire. Even in the whitewash of the artificial light, Twilight could tell that Spitfire looked a little pale.

“So something was down here laying eggs the size of a stallion’s head?” Spitfire asked. “That’s not disturbing at all.”

“Not compared to the fact that something else came along and ate them,” Twilight pointed out.

Spitfire grimaced. “Fair point… So, Fluttershy, you sure you don’t have any clue what these are?”

Fluttershy shook her head. “None at all. I couldn’t even begin making a guess.”

“Try making one anyway,” Spitfire encouraged.

Fluttershy frowned and returned to poking at the fleshy mass. She rolled it over, spilling out what was left of the fluid inside.

“I… I don’t know…” she sighed. “Maybe some kind of insect? I don’t know any insects this big, though.”

Twilight looked to Spitfire, and Spitfire looked back. From the look in her eyes, it appeared that Spitfire was having the same idea that she was.

“Do changelings lay eggs?” Spitfire asked.

“Yeah,” Twilight replied. “Like I said, they’re more insect than pony.”

“Think this could be them, then?”

“Maybe…” Twilight flicked the gore off her chakram, but didn’t put it away. It didn’t take any magic to keep out, anyway. “I can’t say for sure, though. I know they lay eggs, but I’ve never seen any pictures of what they look like. I can tell you, though, that if these are changeling eggs, that means there’s a queen around here somewhere.”

“A queen?”

“Again, they’re more insect than pony.”

“Um, sorry to interrupt,” Fluttershy interrupted, “but what’s a changeling?”

“From what I was told,” Spitfire began explaining, “they’re some kind of shape-shifting insect creature that feeds off of love. They pretend to be somepony and drink their fill out of their loved ones, then make for the hills.”

“That sounds horrible,” Fluttershy said with a shake of her head. “Still… nothing deserves to have its children eaten like this.”

Twilight could somewhat agree with that, but that sympathy only went so far. Changelings were supposedly intelligent creatures, and the argument could be made that something like this was beyond boundaries of common decency. Still, everything Twilight had ever read about changelings painted them as cold, hungry things – for lack of a better word. They were pests, con-artists that swindled something precious out of unsuspecting victims – and that was when they were just harmlessly siphoning off small amounts of love over the course of an afternoon. This particular group of changelings was most probably a hive of serial foalnappers, and it was hard to feel sympathy for anything that would sink so low.

“Let’s not forget that they also might have been responsible for the twenty-nine missing ponies we’ve been looking for,” Twilight pointed out. “This is… obscene, but we if we come across a changeling, we can’t pull any punches.”

Fluttershy hung her head in what Twilight could only guess was resignation. Fluttershy, from all she’d heard, was the sort of gentle soul that always looked for the best in everything – even twisted, vampiric monsters that foalnapped children to feed on their parents. She would probably rather hug a changeling than chain it up and banish it to the furthest reaches of the badlands.

Twilight decided to have a look around for any clues as to what might have been responsible for this. She began pacing around the room, scanning the floor and kicking aside the muck as she went. Spitfire seemed to have caught the gist of what she was doing and started doing the same, while Fluttershy just took to the air, floating a few paces off the ground and trying to flick away the green ichor that had stained all their hooves.

Twilight was half away across the room when her nostrils flared. Another very faint scent was hiding under the coppery stink of the burst egg sacs. Something was rotting nearby – something other than the recently disturbed eggs.

“Spitfire, you’ve got light here,” Twilight said, jerking her head towards the ceiling where the largest of the crystals pulsed with light. “There’s something I want to check out, so I’m scouting ahead. You cover Fluttershy.”

Spitfire looked up and cocked her head questioningly. She lifted her chin slightly, as if to ask what was up.

“It might be nothing, and it’ll only take a second,” Twilight explained evasively. There wasn’t any reason to freak them out just yet.

Her fellow soldier didn’t look too pleased, but she nodded her understanding all the same. “Don’t take too long, Twi, this place is nasty.”

“Be very careful, Twilight, please,” Fluttershy softly pleaded, her eyes shining with concern.

Twilight sniffed again, following the scent trail further into the cavern, past the range of the artificial light in the egg room. She cast her illumination spell, making it as bright as she could without blinding herself. She added a second layer under the spell, weaving in a fire conjuring spell that could be triggered at a moment’s notice, just in case she needed a more offense-oriented lighting solution.

When she found the body, it was curled up in a ball on the ground. It was a griffon, possibly male, though it was difficult to tell given the state of decomposition. Most of its feathers and fur had fallen out, and the sickly pallor of its skin reflected the light of her spell with a pale luminescence. Its eyes were wide and clouded, a bloated tongue lolling out of its open beak. The ground was moist and darkened from soaking up the pungent effluence. The smell coming off of it was enough to make her gag.

In hindsight, having the others wait behind had definitely been the right choice.

Twilight fought down her revulsion and began examining the cadaver. The claws, paws, and beak of the griffon were all stained the same shade of green as the fluid back in the egg chamber. The skin of the griffon’s belly had split open, revealing a swollen, distended stomach sac. During putrefaction, gasses built up inside the body, but Twilight would have wagered a month of pay that it wasn’t just methane in this thing’s stomach.

In all likelihood, this griffon was probably what had torn into those eggs, and that thought only made Twilight frown. That just didn’t track. Conditions in the mine were surprisingly dry, and being underground meant that the cavern was actually quite cool – two conditions that went a very long way towards staving off decomposition. Given the state of decay she was seeing, and the environmental conditions in the mine, this griffon had to have died weeks ago – it couldn’t have been what ate those eggs.

Twilight spun around quickly and made her way back towards her friends, cranking up the light of her horn just a few more notches. This whole thing was becoming a nesting doll of problems, but one thing was very clear – they needed to get topside ASAP.


* * *


> Chapter 6 - The Watchdogs
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Spike sat at a table in the dining area, the side of his face pressed against the tablecloth. He could feel Rarity’s eyes boring a hole in the back of his skull, and any minute now his brains would leak out all over Celestia’s clean table linens.

It’d be a fitting end to the most frustrating night of his life.

“Five pounds…” Rarity said, repeating the words for the umpteenth time. “Five pounds of shrimp puffs, when you know that shrimp makes you gassy.”

“At least it came out of the polite end,” Spike countered in a lame attempt to defend himself. He focused on the black dinner jacket he was wearing, looking for loose threads to pluck at and finding none.

“There is nothing polite about a belch!” she hissed. “I almost wish it had been flatulence – at least fire doesn’t come out of that end!”

“Depends on what I eat,” he joked crudely.

The disapproving murmur from his fillyfriend let him know exactly what she thought of his attempts at making a joke of the matter. Rarity was surprisingly crass when she wanted to be, but never in public.

Spike sat up with a groan. The second he tried to make eye contact with Rarity she turned away in a huff, folding her arms over her chest and turning her snout upwards.

“You can’t stay mad forever,” he sighed. “I’m sorry, okay? I was just really bored, then Pinkie started dancing around, and I laughed, and laughing made me burp. It was an accident!”

Rarity responded by turning away a little further, adding a delicate little, “Hmph!” as she did so.

“I love you…” he said in a desperate gambit to turn the situation around.

Rarity made a sort of annoyed growling noise at the back of her throat.

“Do you love me?” he asked as he gently prodded her with one outstretched claw.

Rarity made the noise again, a little louder. “Yes…”

Applejack chose that moment to join them at their table. She jumped onto a chair and leaned against the table, letting her head loll to the side tiredly. 

“Corn-feathers, Rares,” Applejack cursed, “just forgive the boy already. It wasn’t that bad. A few of them fancy fellers even clapped when he burped up all that fire. It’s mighty impressive the first time you see it.”

Rarity made the noise a third time, but uncrossed her arms and leveled an annoyed look at Applejack. This was progress, at least as far as Spike was concerned.

“This had better not affect my chances at commissions with the contacts I made tonight,” Rarity said pointedly. “I shall be very cross indeed.”

“Even if it did, I’m sure Spike’ll make it up to you,” Applejack said with a smirk. “At least you didn’t lose a whole bushel-worth of apples to that donnybrook... or whatever the equivalent of a bushel is in dresses…”

Pinkie Pie hopped up on a chair next to Applejack. The bubbly pink mare was a little dirty from helping the staff clean up the mess she’d inadvertently caused, and her mane lacked a good deal of its characteristic fluffiness.

“I’m super-duper sorry, you guys…” Pinkie Pie said as she hung her head in shame. “I didn’t think things would get so out of hoof. That was, like, the third worst Pony Pokey I’ve ever seen. Even my Pinkie Sense couldn’t have predicted it would have gone down like that.”

Spike’s eyebrows knitted together thoughtfully. “You’ve seen two other Pony Pokies that went worse?”

“Yeah,” Pinkie said tiredly as she pressed her forehead against the table. “But this is the first time there wasn’t any marmalade involved – I’ve got a hard and fast rule about doing the Pony Pokey with marmalade in the room. That’s why it was such a surprise!”

Rainbow Dash trudged over to their table, wading through the throng of ponies lining up to fight over what was left of the catering. Surprisingly, nopony had left the Gala, despite more than a few of the upper crust types being covered in the gooey remnants of food. A few of the ponies in the back of the line had just started eating off of their clothing when they thought nopony was looking.

“Hay of a party,” Rainbow Dash muttered as she climbed into an empty chair next to Pinkie.

“That’s an understatement,” Spike sighed. “Thought there was going to be a riot for a second there.”

“There probably would have been if Princess Celestia hadn’t arrived on the scene and started laughing,” Rarity pointed out. “Our dear princess is a real trendsetter. Not a soul here would ever dream of saying a bad word against how the night turned out now that the princess has publically approved of the spectacle. Nopony even wants to be seen leaving early.”

“How was the VIP section?” Applejack asked, nodding in Rainbow Dash’s direction. She pulled off her hat and dropped it on the table to shake out her mane. The braid that Rarity had tied it into earlier had already come loose while she was helping the cleaning staff haul away her cart. “You get to hang out with the Wonderbolts like you wanted?”

“Yeah, kind of,” Rainbow Dash said with a shrug. “I didn’t get to talk much to any of them. Lots of ponies fighting for their attention, ya know? Soarin’s kind of cool. He’s a real nice guy, and the other Wonderbolts were nice, too… Didn’t get to see Spitfire again, though… Really wanted to talk to her about my application for the Reserves Camp next year, but Soarin said she’s on some kind of secret mission.”

“Secret mission?” Spike asked, his interest in the conversation suddenly skyrocketing.

Rainbow Dash nodded. “It’s probably something super awesome. Some kind of top secret, black-bag, redacted folder kind of cloak-and-dagger stuff. He wouldn’t spill about it, though, so who knows what it could be?”

“Well, it’s nice to know that things happen in Equestria that don’t require our intervention,” Rarity said jokingly.

“I just want to go home, already,” Applejack muttered. “How much longer is this shindig going for, anyway?”

“We’ve still got about an hour, I think,” Spike said. His declaration was met with a chorus of groans.

Pinkie Pie suddenly sat up straight, her ears wiggling curiously as she craned her neck and started looking around the room.

“Hey,” she exclaimed, “has anypony seen Fluttershy all night? She was supposed to go get punch and she never came back.”

The other occupants at the table glanced around.

“She was with Spikey and I when we got off the carriage,” Rarity said. “I think the poor darling didn’t much like the amount of attention her dress was getting.”

“You were kind of directing attention towards her,” Spike said, frowning as he scratched at his cheek absently. “You were turning her around and showing off your dress like she was one of your dress dummies.”

Rarity’s eyes narrowed in anger at the accusation. She raised a hoof pointedly, no doubt ready to refute the claim that she’d been anything less than fully accommodating of her friend’s shy nature. Her ire fell away as she slowly lowered her hoof.

“You’re quite right,” she admitted, her voice wilted with shame. “I was very inconsiderate to the both of you. I was just so… I don’t know, it hardly matters, since it doesn’t excuse how I acted.”

“Especially when Blueblood showed up,” Spike added, crossing his arms and huffing in a passable imitation of the cold shoulder that Rarity had been giving him only minutes ago.

“Oh, Spikey, you know that I was just being polite,” Rarity said soothingly as she drew little circles on the agitated dragon’s bicep with her hooftip. “He’s very handsome, but he can’t hold a candle to you.”

Spike leaned against the table on his elbow, his cheek resting on his open palm. His lips split into a wide grin that showed off all his sparkling white, viciously sharp teeth. “Is that so? Tell me more.”

Applejack spoiled the mood by knocking loudly on the table. “Could the two of you quit pawing at each other long enough to get back to what all we were just talking about?” she chastised. “I reckon we’ve all been pretty lousy friends to Fluttershy tonight. Our nights may have sucked apple seeds, but hers went to pot first, and none of us made good on our promise to not let her spend the night sulking alone.”

“Has anypony gone and checked out the entrance hall?” Rainbow Dash asked. “Maybe Fluttershy went to go hang out with Shine and the princesses. Somepony should stick their head in there and see.”

“I’ll go check!” Pinkie Pie exclaimed as she leapt out of her seat and trotted off. The crowded ballroom didn’t even slow her down as she wound her way through the tables.

Rainbow Dash flapped her wings to hover above the table. “I’ll go check the little fillies’ room,” she explained as she sped off in the direction of the restrooms.

“Don’t fly, Rainbow Dash, everypony can see up your skirt!” Rarity shouted after her friend. “Oh, she won’t listen. I swear, that girl was raised in a barn – no offense meant to you, Applejack.”

Applejack frowned deeply as she picked up her hat and tapped it back onto her head. “I’m gunna go ahead and pretend I didn’t hear that. I’ll go ask the guards if any of them have seen Shy.”

Spike frowned as he watched Applejack walk away. He turned to Rarity and cocked an eyebrow. “What should we do?” he asked.

Rarity tapped her chin in thought. “I shall go and question the ponies at the catering table. Why don’t you check under the tables here in the dining area? The poor dear might have curled up under one of these tablecloths to get away from the attention my fabulous designs attract.”

“You got it,” he answered as he slipped under the table and crawled along the floor. His lithe, draconic frame allowed him to glide along close to the ground with the agility of a greased snake.

As a dragon, he had very good hearing, and he could pick up Rarity muttering to herself under the surprised exclamations of the ponies sitting at the table he’d just crawled under.

“Maybe I should have told him to be more discreet…” she lamented with a heavy sigh.


* * *


Twilight really wished she had some coffee. The endless stream of fresh coffee during the investigation had held her weariness at bay easily enough, but now she was starting to come down from the buzz.

After returning to her friends and explaining the situation – Fluttershy had looked a little faint, and that was without Twilight even describing the state of the corpse she’d found – they’d left the egg chamber to continue their search for a way out. There were a few tunnels and pathways leading away from the egg chamber, but a cursory exploration had found that only one of them had more of the enchanted light crystals.

They followed the trail of lights, knowing that eventually it’d lead them to the changelings – and by now they were all fairly certain that it was changelings – and possibly to a way out. If nothing else, the glowing crystals meant that the two pegasi in their party wouldn’t be at the mercy of the darkness if anything happened to Twilight.

The ground was littered with hoofprints of various sizes and depth, which meant that the lit tunnel was far more traveled than the ones earlier. That made sense, since the changelings had bothered to put in fixtured lighting solutions. Logically, this meant that the changelings were in this area of the mines often.

And yet they still hadn’t come across anypony else. Changelings may have been masters of disguise, but the literature never said anything about them being particularly good at full-on concealment spells. That was incredibly high-tiered magic, and so it was unlikely that the changelings were simply hiding.

Twilight led them into another chamber, and what she found made her heart skip a beat.

The cavern walls had been freshly dug here, creating an alcove enclosed by steel bars and a swinging door with a lock, forming a large, sturdy-looking prison cell. The light from the crystals didn’t quite make it to the back of the cell, but Twilight could faintly make out ponies huddling together in the shadows just out of sight.

“Twilight?” a thick, raspy voice called out from the shadows.

Twilight’s eyes went wide as she watched a teal-coated pegasus with a ginger-red mane hobble towards the edge of the cell. A large iron ball was attached to Lollipop’s rear leg, limiting her ability to fly, and her front hooves were joined together by a pair of shackles with a very short chain. It wasn’t enough to immobilize her, but it did stop her from flying and shorten her stride enough to prevent her from running. Every step she took was accompanied by the grating sound of her restraints dragging across the ground.

Twilight felt movement behind her. She quickly held a hoof out, stopping Spitfire’s attempt to charge to the rescue. She ignored her fellow soldier’s angry glare and narrowed her eyes suspiciously at the mare in the cage.

“Where did we first meet?” Twilight asked. Maybe she was being paranoid, but the literature had all agreed that you should never trust your eyes when changelings were involved.

“You were on sentry duty outside the kitchen,” Lollipop explained, the faint traces of a smile playing tiredly across her lips. “It was your first day on the job, though I didn’t learn that until later. What’s my favorite flavor of cupcake?”

“Whatever was the last flavor you tasted,” Twilight answered.

Lollipop collapsed to the ground with an exhausted moan. “Thank the stars it’s you,” she croaked. “For a second there I thought it might be another one of those things.”

Twilight quickly trotted up to the cage, Spitfire and Fluttershy right behind her, and kneeled down to get a better look at the bars. Spitfire was on sentry, her eyes scanning the room while Twilight worked.

“Changelings?” Twilight asked.

“I guess,” Lollipop said. “If that’s what you call bugponies that can steal your face.”

Twilight nodded. Some of the ponies at the back of the cage were cautiously stepping out of the darkness. Every face that revealed itself was familiar to Twilight. She knew each of them by name, where they lived, what their hobbies were, what sort of talents they had. She was a stranger to them, but she knew them all like they were old friends. Little Breezy Socks shuffled out of the darkness, half hiding behind the legs of a big stallion, and Twilight had to resist the urge to tear the bars out with her bare hooves.

Twilight blinked away the moisture forming at the corner of her eyes. “Where are they all at?” Twilight asked, turning her attention back to Lollipop.

“I don’t know,” Lollipop replied. “We haven’t seen any of them for a while. It’s hard to tell time.”

An earth pony stallion stepped forward, clearing his throat. His name was Clockstopper, and his special talent was watch repair. He was a big fan of light jazz and hated the taste of green peppers. He tried to speak, but his words were drowned by a dry, wheezing coughing fit. He worked his mouth and composed himself before trying again. “It’s been fifty-three hours since the last time one of our jailers came to give us food and water,” he said.

“You don’t have any water, do you?” a pegasus colt named Blue Bomber asked. His favorite sport was hoofball and he never drank chocolate milk, only strawberry.

There was an excited murmur from the crowd of prisoners at the mention of water.

“I’m sorry, we don’t,” Twilight said. “But I’m going to get you out of here, okay? Step away from the bars.”

They did as instructed, and Twilight shooed Spitfire and Fluttershy away as well. Once everypony was clear, Twilight drew her chakram and focused her magic into it. The bladed ring hummed audibly as the steel harmonized and pulsed with her magic.

With only the barest nudge of her will the chakram darted along the ceiling in one direction then swept across the ground going the opposite way. In a single, fluid motion, Twilight had cleanly cut half the bars away like they were made of paper. The loose bars loudly clattered to the ground. Twilight gathered them up in her magic and moved them out of the way.

Twilight blushed as she realized that everypony in the room was gazing at her in awe. “What?” she asked, blushing furiously as she felt the combined weight of their stares.

“So, uh…” Spitfire began with a nervous grin. “I always wondered what that thing could do… Hah, guess I know now.”

Twilight did her best to ignore the looks she was getting and stepped into the cell. “Everypony hold out your shackles,” she commanded as she brought her chakram up again.

They did as instructed and within a few minutes she’d cleanly sliced through all of their chains. They all still wore their shackles, but for the moment it was enough that they could walk and fly without being restricted. The unicorns in the group were all still wearing tiny iron rings around their horns, inscribed with sigils that prevented the casting of magic. There was nothing to do about that right now, though. Twilight had more than enough control with her chakram to cut the rings off, but there was still the danger of their group being attacked, and the last thing she needed was to get shot in the back by some unsalted caster blindly firing a force bolt into the middle of a fight.

Spitfire trotted up to Twilight and jerked her head towards the group of ponies they’d just rescued. “Okay, we found our ponies,” Spitfire said. “What now? This is a huge group to blindly lead through the mines. Two of us on a security detail for thirty ponies? That’s not going to fly too far.”

“I know the way out,” said a teenaged mare that Twilight knew as Star Wink. She wore thick, black-rimmed glasses, and her chronic allergies left her with an endlessly runny nose. “I play a lot of tabletop pen-and-paper games,” she explained with a moist snort. “I’m really good at making maps for dungeons, and I made a mental one when they dragged me down here, just in case I got a chance to make a run for it.”

Twilight grinned. “Great work, soldier,” she praised the young mare. “You’re on point with me. The rest of you, when we move out you’ll fall in line behind my friend Fluttershy, here. Captain Spitfire will bring up the rear.”

Twilight glanced around, taking stock of their surroundings. Even her brightest light wouldn’t cut it if Star Wink’s mental map led them somewhere without the useful lighting crystals the changelings had prepared. She went to a wall and pried one of the smaller crystals free. She held it aloft, and smiled as the spell remained stable.

“Everypony who wants to carry their own light, please dig one out of the wall,” Twilight said to the group as she levitated the crystal to Spitfire.

Within a few minutes at least half of their group had found a crystal small enough to carry with them. Pegasi held them with their wings, while unicorns and earth ponies held their crystals between their teeth.

Twilight had been a little worried about how haggard some of their weaker party members looked. Dehydration was especially hard on the elderly and children, and she knew from the records that at least one of the colts here had asthma. Happily, a few of the stallions present solved her problem for her, and offered to carry anypony that didn’t think they’d make the trek on their own steam.

Twilight turned back to Star Wink. “Okay, looks like we’re set, which way are we—”

An enormously powerful wave of sound washed over Twilight – a thump loud and heavy enough to rattle her bones. She whipped her head around, searching for the source of sound. Somepony shrieked, and Twilight looked back to the group of ponies behind her to find Bessie Boots – a middle-aged mare who made hats for a living – breaking out of the line and backing into the shadowy recesses of the cell. Her eyes were wide with fear and staring down one of the side tunnels.

“I saw something!” she cried.

“Get them out of here, Spitfire!” Twilight commanded as she ran full tilt in the direction Bessie had been looking.

Spitfire had been shouting something at her, but it didn’t matter. Something in Twilight’s gut told her that whatever Bessie had seen, it was dangerous, and she had to run it down.

Her heart was pounding in her chest as she galloped as hard as she could through the cavern. The enchanted lights ended abruptly, and she cast a brilliant illumination spell, easily beating back the darkness.

In the far distance she could hear the steady pounding of a drum in time with her own heartbeat. It was familiar, and warm. The sound of it filled her with strength, pushing away the weariness in her limbs.

Her senses were sharp, and for the barest of moments she caught sight of something black and green rounding a corner in the darkness just ahead of her. She poured on the speed, paying no attention to the little nicks and scratches she was cutting into her armor whenever she got carelessly close to the crystals and rock formations jutting out of the walls. That was what armor was for, anyway.

She saw the black and green blur again, and again it was just for a brief moment. It was incredibly fast. Spitfire might be able to catch it, but Twilight’s instincts told her that she couldn’t let her friend near this thing, whatever it was.

She was never going to catch it, not at this rate. In a moment of desperation she charged her horn with power, set a destination point with her eyes, and winked out of existence.

The teleportation worked, and she could see what she was chasing. It was some sort of enormous – almost the size of Celestia – black pony, with a long, greasy mane, and thin, chitinous wings.

This had to be the changeling queen. The queen’s wings were buzzing angrily, propelling it forward at incredible speed, and soon it was out of sight again.

Twilight charged her horn and teleported again… then again… and again. She kept running and teleporting, the combination allowing her to keep pace with her target.

She was getting tired. Even with the intoxicating beat of those drums filling her with strength, rapid-fire teleportation was taking its toll on her. Most unicorns would be lucky to have half her range or to be able to cast the spell more than two or three times in a day. Twilight had lost count at a dozen teleports.

Her target flew into a cavern with a high, vaulted ceiling, and Twilight saw her chance. She charged another teleportation spell, timing it so she would appear a few meters in front of the regal changeling, and a few meters in the air. She cast her spell, appearing right where she wanted to be: falling through the air on a collision path with the changeling queen.

Twilight charged another spell as she was falling – an interesting defensive spell that worked by creating a dense field of magic that made the caster’s body sturdier – and released it. A peculiar side-effect of the spell was that it also made the caster far heavier, turning Twilight’s body into an improvised projectile.

The changeling stopped abruptly, braking in midair and backing away as Twilight hit the ground hard enough to kick up a cloud of dust and rocks.

Twilight glared at the thing through the haze. It was fast, but she had something faster, and now that she’d stopped it momentarily, she had her shot.

She focused her will and magic, unsheathing her weapon and sending it flying towards the changeling queen so fast that it cut through the air with a shrill whistle. The steel of her chakram flashed brilliantly as it caught the light from her illumination spell. It sang as it sliced through the queen’s long, jagged horn. She guided it back around, and the wings went next.

The queen fell to the ground, its magic and ability to fly now gone. It lay where it fell, unmoving in the brilliant light of Twilight’s illumination spell. It didn’t even look like it was breathing.

“I… I got you,” Twilight panted raggedly. Her chakram spun angrily overhead, ready to strike at the first sign of hostility.

The queen rose to her hooves slowly and grinned. Twilight had expected its voice to be feminine, maybe even beautiful, but when it spoke its voice was deep, and thrummed with raw power and an otherworldly menace.

“The anomalous girl,” the voice sang gruffly, “you’re even more impressive in person than I could’ve imagined.”

Something was wrong, she could feel it in her bones and hear it in the drumming in her head. Whatever this thing was, it wasn’t a changeling.

Twilight narrowed her eyes at the thing. It had a strange, insectoid beauty, but something in the eyes was wildly wrong. This wasn’t some parasite – this thing was a predator, pure and simple. It stuck its tongue out and licked at its maw, lapping at the emerald-colored gore that had dripped out of its mouth, down its throat, and onto its chest.

“What are you?” she demanded.

“I’m just like you,” the thing inside the changeling queen replied. “We’re just a pair of watchdogs that slipped our leashes – puppets without strings, dancing to our own tunes.”

“Meaning?”

The thing threw back its head and laughed. “I can’t tell you what you mean. That’s the whole point.”

Twilight spit on the ground angrily. She’d met enough cryptic, full-of-themselves types in her time to know one when she saw one. This thing wasn’t going to give her a straight answer. She decided to try a different approach.

“You got rid of the changelings, didn’t you?” she asked. “What was that griffon doing down here?”

“An old shell,” the thing replied, shrugging the shoulders of the changeling queen. “He didn’t last long. This body will last longer. It won’t fall apart. It will be able to eat more – maybe even enough to get me a real body.” It laughed again. “I think this shell really enjoyed the taste of its own children. Their souls were so tiny, but their hearts were delicious.”

Twilight suppressed a shiver at the mention of eating hearts. Her instincts had been right about the danger this thing posed.

“Why didn’t you eat the ponies locked in the cage?”

The queen’s face scrunched up in disgust. “Unseasoned. Their hearts would not be delicious. And I knew you wanted them, so I left them for you as a gift. That’s why I wanted us to have this talk. So you would know.”

“You didn’t want anything!” Twilight snapped. “I caught you!”

“And it was very impressive,” the voice replied in amusement. “I’ve been watching you since you walked out of the city of Anubis’ children. You’re not like the others of this land. They can struggle as they wish, blindly believing themselves free, but they could never slip their chains as we have.”

The queen’s mouth split into a smile and kept going. The edges of her mouth stretched back, further and further, beyond the reaches of a natural smile.

Twilight had grown up with a big-heart dragon for an older brother. Spike smiled easily, always showing off those long, dagger-sharp teeth. She knew a reptilian smile when she saw one.

The teeth in the queen’s mouth were reptilian, but they were nothing like Spike’s teeth. Her brother used his teeth to smile at pretty mares and to chew up gems. This thing’s teeth were made for tearing and crushing and piercing, for rending apart anything that got caught between its jaws. When this thing smiled, it wasn’t friendly, it was a threat.

In that moment, Twilight heard the drums again, and she knew the truth. This thing, whatever was inside of the changeling queen – whatever had killed her, stolen her body, and forced her to eat her own children – this was what Twilight had been looking for.

Her legs felt weak, and her mouth felt dry. “You’re the thing that manipulated Dingo and the other diamond dogs, aren’t you…?”

Its sickening smile pulled even wider, and its mouth opened to an impossible size. A long, reptilian tongue lolled out of its mouth and flicked at the air, as if tasting the space between them. When it spoke, the words seemed to come directly from its throat, formed without the aid of mouth or tongue.

“A watchdog without its leash – free to hunt and eat.”

Twilight thrust her chakram forward as hard as she could, fast enough to pierce the air with a loud crack. She aimed for the creature’s neck, hoping to take its head, but she only hit air. The beast had simply vanished without spell or smoke, as though it hadn’t even existed in the first place. Her chakram buried itself in the wall at the other end of the cavern, and she summoned it back to her side.

Twilight increased the power of her light to blinding levels, casting it around in a mad search for where her target could have gone.

“I’ll see you soon,” the voice taunted her. Its words bounced off the walls in the chamber, making it impossible to tell where it was coming from. “I believe we might meet again in the land of frozen hearts... Though, with beings the likes of us, it's impossible to tell for certain. I hope we do... What a feast it will be.”

The drums in Twilight’s head faded away, and she knew she was alone. Her legs gave out from under her, and she fell to the ground, lying on her side and panting in a pool or her own sweat. Her weapon fell to the ground in front of her, the bare minimum concentration she needed to keep it aloft having failed her. Her lighting spell was fading, too. She forced herself to keep it going.

Twilight grabbed the chakram with her hooves and hugged it to her chest. Somehow, she could feel the cool steel of the weapon through the plating and padding in her armor.


* * *


Twilight entered the bedroom she and Cadance shared in the royal suites. She pulled her chakram out of its holster with her teeth and tossed it onto the bed. Her horn flared and all the buckles and straps on her armor came undone at once. She pulled off her armor, a piece at a time, and flung it angrily against the wall.

She was vaguely aware of the sound of breaking glass as her breastplate knocked a framed photo off a table. She ignored it.

She was vaguely aware of Cadance dismissing the guards, who were watching her tirade with worried eyes. She ignored that, too.

“He was here, Cadance!” Twilight shouted. She paced around the room, seething with anger and frustration. “Here, in Canterlot! Right under our city! Under our castle! Under our bed!”

“I know, Twilight,” Cadance answered with unnatural calm. Or maybe it only seemed unnatural because of how angry Twilight was. “I was there when you were explaining it to the Guard Captain.”

“We need to find it! But the Centurion thinks that’s too low of a priority! He thinks it’s more important to search for more changelings! This thing eats changelings! It drove Dingo insane through his dreams, it plots against gods, it steals corpses, and Steel Century thinks we should be flipping over rocks looking for ladybugs!”

Twilight didn’t even realize Cadance was walking towards her until she felt herself being hugged. Twilight tried to pull away, tried to hold on to the fire in her belly, but her body was weak from lack of sleep and the exertion of her attempt to run down the reanimated corpse of the changeling queen. Cadance held fast, and Twilight was forced to submit to the cuddling.

She buried her face into Cadance’s neck and let herself be hugged. Cadance’s coat smelled of that new peachy shampoo she wanted to try, and the ridiculously expensive perfume that she only wore for special occasions. Twilight felt something wet against her face and it took her a few seconds to realize it was her own tears.

She gave in and hugged back, squeezing desperately. Cadance grunted softly, and Twilight had to relax her hold just a little. Cadance may have had an alicorn’s strength, but she didn’t work out nearly as often as Twilight did.

“How can you be so calm right now?” Twilight asked. “That thing is on the loose out there. It’s here in Equestria and it’s been watching us.”

“I’m just glad you’re safe,” Cadance replied as she gently stroked Twilight’s back. “That’s the only thing that matters to me right now…”

All the anger and frustration bled out of Twilight’s body. That anger had been the only thing holding her upright to this point. Without it, she felt hollow – a tired shell in the shape of a pony. She leaned into Cadance, and the love and support radiating from her lover filled the empty vessel of Twilight’s body.

“I have to find it…” Twilight muttered as she sniffled.

“It doesn’t always have to be you,” Cadance said.

“I have to…” Twilight repeated.

Cadance just nuzzled the top of Twilight’s head, and after several long heartbeats, she said, “It can wait.”

“Okay…” Twilight reluctantly agreed. She sighed heavily. “I’m so tired, Cadance…”

“I know, honey… do you want to go to bed?”

“No,” she said, though it was a tempting proposition. Tired as she was, she wasn’t in the mood to actually go to bed. Just sitting here with Cadance was enough.

The appearance of the… thing in the mines was weighing heavily on her, but it wasn’t even remotely the only concern she was having at the moment.

She’d heard those drums again. The ones she’d heard in Zebrica, and again on the airship ride home. Both times it had come to her while she was holding her chakram, so it wasn’t much of a leap to assume that her weapon was the source of the sound.

But what was it? Before, she’d chalked it up to something mysterious and magical, connected to the Ways that Basenji had spoken to her about. But she’d had the chakram by her side for months without hearing them again. Tonight the drums had not only returned, they’d been loud, and filled her with strength as she chased that monster through the dark tunnels beneath Canterlot.

Running after it alone, and leaving Spitfire to look after thirty civilians on her own… that wasn’t like her, but the drums and the adrenaline had swept her up and led her on the chase. Thinking back on it, Twilight didn’t think she was being influenced, but whatever power the chakram had imparted to her had made her impulsive. If she was going to control it, then she would need to know more.

“I need to write a letter to Basenji,” Twilight said.

“About what happened in the mines?”

Twilight considered telling Cadance about the drums.

“Yes,” she said, and left it at that. Her poor girlfriend had had enough excitement for one night. That was another thing that could wait.

“You made me very proud today,” Cadance whispered as she nibbled tenderly on Twilight’s ear. “You did exactly what you said you would.”

“Through pure dumb luck…” Twilight sighed. “I fell down a hole like an idiot and stumbled into a cave. I had just as much of a chance of breaking my spine as I did of saving the day.”

“You’re the furthest pony from an idiot I know, Twilight,” Cadance said. “And besides, Fluttershy’s not an idiot, and she fell down a hole, too.”

“I wonder how Fluttershy is doing. I know Spitfire’s still answering questions for that guy from the Air Force, but I don’t think Fluttershy got a debriefing like we did.”

Cadance released her hold on Twilight and levitated a moist towel into the room from the bath. “I got a note about it from Aunt Celestia during the meeting with the Guard Captain,” she explained as she cleaned up Twilight’s face. After Twilight was clean, Cadance stripped away her royal accessories and cleaned herself off. “The royal physician gave her some stitches and discharged her. Aunt Celestia gave the girls a room to share a little down the hall from us. She offered them all their own rooms, but they insisted on sticking together.”

“Think they’d mind if we popped in to say hello?” Twilight asked hopefully.

“I’m sure they’d love that, hon,” Cadance replied as she leaned in and kissed the tip of Twilight’s nose. “Let’s go visit your brother’s harem.”

“I already made that joke to Fluttershy down in the mines,” Twilight said with a puckish grin.

Cadance cooed with delighted approval. “Oh, babe. You’re just making me so proud tonight.”


* * *


Fluttershy sat on a cushion on the floor of the room Princess Celestia had given her and her friends. The other girls had all insisted on staying with her, refusing to let her out of their sight. After the night she’d had, Fluttershy had been glad for the company.

Then Shining Armor dropped in and things turned bad.

“I can’t believe you kept something like this from us!” Applejack shouted. She was right up in Shining Armor’s face, her face twisted up into an angry scowl as she jabbed a hoof into the big stallion’s chest. “You should have told us!”

“You didn’t need to know,” Shining Armor said in a carefully measured tone, the strain in his voice betraying just how close he was to actually shouting back.

“Says who?” Applejack demanded. “You? We let you call the shots on our adventures and such, but that don’t make you our boss, Shining Armor! You don’t get to decide what’s best for us!”

Shining Armor’s brittle mask of self-restraint crumbled under the verbal assault. “I was just doing what Princess Celestia would have done! You think she tells her subjects everything? She keeps secrets to protect ponies like you and me every day!”

Fluttershy looked around the room, desperate for somepony to step in and break up this fight. Rarity and Pinkie Pie were sitting next to her – they’d both been physically at her side since she’d been checked out of the infirmary, and neither looked ready to abandon their self-imposed posts. Rarity was frowning, not in anger, but in sheer disappointment. Pinkie Pie looked just as eager to stop the fight as she was, but an attempt to make everypony laugh early in the argument had been stonewalled, and now she appeared at a loss for what to do.

Rainbow Dash was standing next to the door, fidgeting and scowling at Shining Armor’s back. She’d taken sentry at the door, loudly declaring that she wasn’t going to let anything get near Fluttershy, even despite assurances from the others that the two Royal Guards outside their door would be adequate for their protection.

Spike was next to Rainbow, standing upright and leaning on his shoulder against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. The look on his face was difficult to read as he stood there and watched the argument unfold.

“A fat lot of good your ‘protection’ did for Fluttershy!” Applejack snapped. “She could’ve died on account of your thinking you know so much better than anypony else. Here’s something you might not know, Shining: we ain’t your subjects, and you ain’t a princess! You’re supposed to be our friend, dadgummit!”

“Please stop fighting!” Fluttershy shouted as loudly as she could. She was crying, and her voice cracked shrilly as she spoke. Pinkie Pie and Rarity pressed against her, patting her back gently and stroking her mane in an attempt to calm her down.

“See what you did?” Applejack said as she pointed angrily in Fluttershy’s direction.

There was a knock at the door.

“Go away!” Rainbow Dash shouted over her shoulder.

“This is Decurion Twilight Sparkle,” Twilight called from the other side of the door, “is everything alright?”

Fluttershy felt a relief so powerful that she almost collapsed.

Spike stepped away from the wall and opened the door just enough to stick his head through. “Hey, Twi, now’s not a good time…” he said.

“Let her in,” Fluttershy quickly said.

Spike tilted his head curiously at Fluttershy, and for a moment she was afraid that he might insist on having Twilight leave. To her incredible relief, he stepped back and pulled the door open to allow Twilight to enter.

Twilight look tired and her eyes were bloodshot and puffy. It looked like she might have been crying recently. She was out of her armor, but that strange ring-thingy was strapped to her side with some sort of harness.

Another pony walked in after Twilight, and Fluttershy blinked as she realized that it was Princess Mi Amore Cadenza. She almost stood to bow in greeting, just as she would have to Princesses Celestia and Luna, but the pink alicorn princess just smiled kindly and waved a hoof.

“Please, don’t bow,” the princess said, addressing the room. Fluttershy realized that the others – minus Shining Armor and Spike – had also moved to bow in greeting. “I’m not even wearing my crown right now.”

“Little tip for you guys,” Twilight said as she sat on her haunches, “the walls are pretty soundproof, but these doors are flimsier than they look. If you want to scream in here without waking up the whole castle, you’re going to need to cast a privacy charm.”

“We learned that the hard way,” Princess Mi Amore stated as she waggled her eyebrows.

Twilight pressed her hoof against her face and massaged a spot between her eyes. “It’s bad enough you do that in front of my mom, can you please not make jokes like that in front of my brothers?”

There was a long, confusing pause where everypony in the room stared at the princess and the guard. Recognition of what the princess had been implying slowly made its way around the room, and surprisingly, Rarity was the first to crack.

Rarity tried and failed to suppress a nasally snort of laughter. The sound set off a chain reaction that hit Pinkie Pie next, then Rainbow Dash. Even Applejack couldn’t resist the urge to lightly chuckle at Twilight’s embarrassment. Fluttershy blushed, but joined in on the fun with a demure giggle. Shining Armor was blushing furiously, and Spike was just scratching uncomfortably at his neck and staring up at the ceiling.

Applejack walked up to Twilight and wrapped her up in a tight hug. A full-strength hug from Applejack was best described as ‘bone-crushing’, but Twilight seemed to weather it fairly well.

“Can’t thank you enough for everything you did for Fluttershy,” Applejack said as she released Twilight from the embrace. “I reckon I speak for all of us when I say that. And it’s great to finally meet you.”

“I was glad to do it,” Twilight said. “But, um, maybe you guys could tell me what all this yelling is about?”

“It’s nothing,” Shining Armor quickly said.

“They’re mad because Shining didn’t tell them about the foalnappings,” Spike supplied, pointedly ignoring the dark look Shining Armor was leveling at him.

Twilight frowned. “Yeah, Fluttershy mentioned something like that down in the mines…” Twilight rubbed at the back of her neck uncomfortably. “What happened with that, Shining? You were supposed to tell them what was up in case you guys needed to use the Elements.”

“I realized that I didn’t need to,” Shining Armor said defensively. “Everypony was going to be inside the castle anyway, surrounded by Royal Guards.”

“Everypony except Fluttershy,” Twilight pointed out.

Shining Armor lowered his gaze. “She… she wasn’t supposed to leave the castle. I told her the garden was going to be closed off.”

Twilight raised an eyebrow. “So it was her fault?”

“No!” Shining snapped as he stomped a hoof angrily. “Don’t try to turn my words around on me! This isn’t even any of your business!”

“You’re right, Shining,” Twilight said with a nod. Fluttershy chirped in surprise as Twilight suddenly locked eyes with her. “Fluttershy. I think maybe you should tell Shining Armor how you feel.”

Fluttershy shook her head. she hated confrontation, and as much as she hated seeing her friends fight, she just didn’t know what she could do to stop it. “N-no, I… I don’t… it’s fine…”

“Fluttershy,” Twilight said. Her voice was gentle and surprisingly full of warmth. “One step at a time…”

The words of encouragement Twilight had given her down in the mines came flooding back to Fluttershy. She took a deep breath and stood up. She took a step forward, and then another. She tried to think of something to say as she walked the short distance across the room with her eyes closed in concentration, but nothing came to her.

She opened her eyes and saw Shining Armor watching her. His eyes were full of worry. He was scared – terrified, even – of what she might say. All at once Fluttershy felt the urge to give in to her own nature and just hug him, to reassure him that she still cared about him.

So she did.

He stiffened under her touch, so she reached up and stroked his mane, just like Pinkie had done for her earlier when she was crying. A lifetime dedicated to caring and nurturing animals had taught her that a gentle touch and a soothing voice was a kind of magic in itself.

“It’s okay, Shining,” Fluttershy told him as she petted. In her mind, she could almost imagine him as a giant bunny, or some sort of miniature bear. “I forgive you for keeping secrets.”

“B-but… but I practically lied to you…” he admitted in a small, strained voice. “You got hurt because of me.”

“I forgive you for that, too,” Fluttershy said, adding, “because that’s what friends do.”

Fluttershy felt him return the hug, and moments later she felt arms closing around her from all sides as her friends joined in. Out the corner of her eye she could see Twilight and the princess leaning against one another, smiling as they watched her and her friends hug out their differences.

They stayed that way for a while, and when they finally pulled apart from one another, the sense of dread and tension that had been hanging in the air had completely lifted. This didn't mean they were back to where they were before Shining Armor chose to betray everypony's confidence, but it did mean they all wanted to get back to that place of trust. They all wanted to be okay, so even if it took a little time, they would be.

“I’m sorry, everypony…” Shining said. “I… I just wanted so badly for all of you to have a good time tonight. It’s not that I didn’t trust you, I just wanted to…”

Shining Armor seemed to be having trouble expressing exactly what he wanted to say, but everypony in the room got the general idea of it. It was no secret that Shining Armor had a certain zeal for protecting the ponies closest to him. He was the sort of stallion that always wanted to look out for everypony’s best interests. It was one of the things that Fluttershy and the girls really admired about him. Disappointed as they all were, nopony would say that his heart hadn’t been in the right place.

“You don’t always have to be the only one looking out for everypony,” Fluttershy said. She was feeling brave, emboldened by the wonderfully reassuring hug she’d just gotten, so she reached up and tapped him on the nose. “Boop. We’re all friends, Shining Armor. We look out for each other. Nopony has to carry the weight of the world on their shoulders alone. Not as long as they have friends.”

Fluttershy shot a look in Twilight's direction. She was staring at her hooves, her eyebrows knit together in concentration like she was thinking long and hard about something. Princess Mi Amore Cadenza was standing at her side, smiling. Somehow, for some reason, the princess’ smile looked vaguely smug.

“Look, Shine,” Rainbow Dash said as she ran a hoof up and down her arm sheepishly, “I’m still pretty mad about this whole lying business, but… if Fluttershy wants to forgive you, I guess I can, too. Just don’t do it again or I’m going to kick you in the jaw.”

“Ditto,” Applejack said with a grin. “And I kick a lot harder than she does.”

“Indeed,” Rarity added with a flip of her mane.

“I’ll just make a piano fall on your head,” Pinkie Pie said with a shrug.

“I, uh… I promise,” Shining Armor said.

Shining Armor wasn’t the only one that took a nervous step away from the smiling pink mare.

“Okay, enough of all this drama,” Rainbow Dash declared. “Fluttershy! Tell us what happened down in those mines! All we’ve heard is that you helped save twenty-nine foalnapped ponies and crawled out of a hole in the ground covered in green goop! What the hay happened!?”

Fluttershy shot a panicked look towards Twilight, who seemed to have finally snapped out of whatever introspection she’d been lost in. She pleaded silently for help, and Twilight just smirked.

“Rainbow Dash, I’m sure Fluttershy is really excited to tell you all about how brave she was down in the spooky, possibly haunted, abandoned mines,” Twilight teased mysteriously, “but why don’t you let her just relax tonight? She probably doesn’t want to think about it just right now.”

Rainbow Dash and Spike groaned dejectedly, and Fluttershy beamed a grateful smile towards her savior.

“Shine-Shine and Spikey’s sister is right!” Pinkie Pie declared as she hopped up on the coffee table. “Fluttershy needs to get her mind off of spooky mines! I propose a slumber party!”

Pinkie Pie’s suggestion was seconded and approved by a chorus of cheers from the girls.

“That sounds like fun, but why don’t I just leave you girls to it?” Shining suggested. “I think I need to write a letter.”

“Why don’t I lend you a claw with that?” Spike offered. “Twilight, it was great seeing you. Catch up over breakfast tomorrow?”

The princess cleared her throat. “Why don’t you make that lunch instead? Twilight will be sleeping in today. She hasn’t gotten much rest.”

Spike laughed at that. “Sure thing. Let’s call it a late lunch, just to be safe.”

Spike and Shining Armor said goodnight to everypony – Spike of course got an extra little ‘goodnight’ from Rarity – and left the room discussing how to best draft their letter to Princess Celestia.

“Twilight, Princess Mi Amore Cadenza, would you two like to join us for the slumber party?” Fluttershy asked.

“We’d love to,” the princess replied, cutting off Twilight before she could answer, “as long as you call me Cadance, that is.”

“Cadance?” Rarity asked.

“My parents named me Mi Amore Cadenza,” Cadance said with a huff and an exaggerated roll of her eyes that moved her whole head. “I hate my full name. Cadance, please, or no deal.”

“Um, sure, Cadance,” Fluttershy said with a giggle.

“Fabulous!” Cadance said with a stomp of her hoof. Her horn glowed and a huge black bottle appeared in the air. “Who wants to play Spin the Bottle to try and win a kiss off my girlfriend?”

“I think that bottle’s full,” Pinkie Pie said, seemingly the only pony in the room unfazed by the offer. The rest of the girls, including Twilight, were all staring at the pink alicorn in disbelief.

“Oh, so it is,” Cadance said as she inspected the bottle. She held it aloft in her magic a second time. “Who wants to help me drink this magnum of wine so we can play Spin the Bottle?”

“Me!” Pinkie Pie shouted as she raised a hoof like an excited schoolfilly.

Twilight was rubbing at the spot between her eyes again.


* * *


Spitfire sat in the office of the Centurion, admiring the desk as she waited for Steel Century to show up. As the Captain of the Wonderbolts, Spitfire had a few offices in different buildings around Equestria. A couple of them had really nice desks in them, but the Centurion’s desk put them all to shame. If this desk told her desks to jump, they’d ask how high.

Spitfire groaned. She was tired and her was mind was wandering.

After Twilight ran off to chase whatever she was chasing, Spitfire and the nerdy chick were able to lead their little group back topside. She’d made extra sure to warn them all against touching anything protruding from the walls, of course, and everypony got out safely.

The tunnel had ended up leading up to the park near Lollipop’s house, and Spitfire had almost crowed in victory when she realized her stupid hunch had been right all along. Apparently the park was a fairly popular place for busy ponies to stop for lunch or a coffee on the way home from work. From what the victims had told her, the changeling strategy was something like those weird spiders that waited in a hole in the ground for something to wander by. It was oddly appropriate stratagem for a bunch of creepy bugs.

The police had taken the civs away to get checked out by medics and fed. She and Twilight ended up being escorted back to the castle for a debriefing, but unlike Twilight, Spitfire had had to repeat her entire statement for some intel officer from the Air Force. It was an obnoxious bit of red tape, but that was just how it was.

After her second debriefing, a Legionary had approached her and told her she was to report to the Centurion’s office. She wasn’t told why the Captain of the Guard wanted to talk to her, but she’d hoped it would go quickly. That hope died the second she walked into an empty room and was told to wait.

Officers loved making other ponies wait. She knew it for a fact because she loved making ponies wait on her in her office. It let them know she was important. Considering how important Centurion Steel Century – Captain of the Guard and First Spear of the military – was, she was in for a long wait.

She was pleasantly surprised to find that she didn’t actually have to wait long. The door opened and the Centurion strode in. Spitfire jumped out of her chair and stood at attention – standard procedure for when a superior officer enters the room.

“As you were,” he said as he took his place behind the impressive desk. He sat down heavily in the equally impressive chair. The wood frame groaned as it accepted the weight of the stallion and his armor. He removed his helmet and set it down on the desk.

For a long moment he sat there, eyes closed, leaning back against the chair with his mouth hanging open. The Centurion was an impressive stallion, but for just that moment she could see his actual age peeking around the edges of the aura of strength and vitality that he exuded.

He hefted a deep, rumbling sigh that sounded like an old steam engine starting up.

“Thank you for coming,” Steel Century said as he sat up straight. “I know you must be tired. I just wanted to tell you that you did good work these last couple of days.”

“Thank you, sir,” Spitfire said reflexively. After some thought she added, “How are the ponies we rescued?”

The Centurion shifted in his seat again. The chair looked unimaginably plush from Spitfire’s side of the desk, but the look on his face made it seem like he was anything but comfortable.

“They’re doing well,” he explained. “A few of the older ones needed to be treated for dehydration, but nopony’s staying more than a night in sick bay.”

“That’s great to hear, sir,” Spitfire said with a sigh of relief.

The Centurion nodded and produced a glass tumbler from his desk. He opened another drawer and withdrew a large bottle of some alcohol with foreign writing on it. He filled the glass and pushed it across the desk.

“Drink up,” he said as he lifted the bottle.

Spitfire blinked at the offered drink.

“I insist,” Steel Century added.

Spitfire took a sip and let the warmth slowly fill her bones. “Very smooth, sir. Thank you.”

The Centurion stared at the bottle for a moment before sighing and retrieving a second tumbler from his desk. He poured another glass and put the bottle away.

“We’re still looking for changelings,” he said as he sipped his drink. “But all we’re finding is bodies… Something split open their chests, ate the damned hearts right out of them.”

“The thing that Twilight ran off to chase after?” Spitfire asked. “What was it?”

“We don’t know.” He took another drink. “Decurion Twilight Sparkle believes this to be… she thinks finding it should be our priority. I agree to an extent, but according to her account of events, the creature fled the city. That means that our first priority is to make sure that the changeling problem is dealt with. The Decurion was none too happy about that, which I can understand. It’s possible she might have history with this monster.”

“I don’t understand, sir,” Spitfire said as she set the drink down. “How can we not know what it is? Twilight wasn’t… she wasn’t being very clear, but she said she saw it, the thing that ate the eggs we found.”

Steel Century frowned into his drink. Something was on his mind, and the look on his face made it seem unpleasant. He hefted a resigned sigh and took a sip.

“Before we continue, I want you to know something,” he said. "I knew your father."

Spitfire blinked. “I’m sorry? I… what does that have to do with—”

“I was a young Decurion when we met,” Steel Century continued. “I was always working twice as hard as anypony else, trying to prove that I deserved my post because I was good at my job, and not because of who my uncle was. I was working the beat in the city, patrolling on a weekend evening.”

The old stallion set his drink down and smiled at the memory. “I got a report that some moron was making a ruckus. The moron turned out to be an Infantry stallion on leave who’d had a bit too much good cheer. I went and arrested him, but he didn’t make it easy. I saw him a few nights later in a bar and we got to talking. We became good friends.”

“I don’t see what this has to do with Twilight’s relationship with whatever she was fighting with tonight,” Spitfire said.

Steel Century picked up his glass and downed the whole thing in a single gulp. He set the glass aside and pulled a folder from his desk.

“Decurion Twilight Sparkle has reason to believe that the creature she met tonight was responsible for the incident detailed in this report,” Steel Century said as he slid the folder across the desk.

Spitfire knew immediately what was in that folder. She reached for it with trembling hooves and tried to pull it closer, but the Centurion’s hoof held fast.

“I know you’ve been asking about this,” he said softly, “but I want you to know that, as your father’s friend, I never wanted you to see this. I’m only showing you now because if you’re anything like your father, you won’t be able to keep your nose out of trouble. It’s better if you know what you’re getting into.” 

He reluctantly pulled his hoof away and put his helmet back on.

“I need to have a meeting with the Chief of Police,” he explained as he climbed out of his chair. “I’ll give you the room, but that folder’s not to leave this office… if you need it, the bottle is in the bottom left drawer.”

Spitfire nodded dumbly. She was finally going to find out what happened to her dad. All these months of not knowing, of quietly resenting her friend for not being able to breathe a word of it, and now she was going to know.

“Ah, sir!” Spitfire said as she turned to the Centurion.

The old stallion was standing at the door, his hoof resting on the handle. “What is it?”

“I just wanted to ask…” she began. “What did you arrest my dad for? The first time you met, I mean.”

Centurion Steel Century’s lips pulled into a wide grin. “Public urination. He’s the reason that ‘No Peeing’ sign is posted up at the big fountain downtown.”

The Centurion left her alone in his office, and even through the door she could hear the sound of his laughter bouncing off the walls as he walked away.


* * *



> Chapter 7 - Hearts & Hearths
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Winter had come to Canterlot with a vengeance this year. Every roof and walkway was covered in snow, and the limbs of every tree sagged with the weight of the stuff. The city's many small ponds, swimming pools, and even fountains if they were large enough, were temporarily repurposed into ice rinks. Storefronts were decorated with tinsel and holly wreaths, with huge signs in their windows counting down the days left until Hearth’s Warming and promising enormous holiday discounts.

Foals were off from school, running wild in the streets with festively reckless abandon as they tried to squeeze as much fun as they could into their holiday break. Homes were decorated with lights, and small evergreen trees were proudly displayed in windows as a symbol of life blooming even in the restful, natural pause of the winter months.

Nopony who’d spent much time in Canterlot could remember a year when they’d been scheduled for as much snow as this winter had brought them. After all, Canterlot was a major city, filled with businesses and tourism. Shoveling walkways and sending street crews to clear the roads every few days was more trouble than it was worth in such a busy city. But nopony really questioned why Princess Celestia had requested extra snowfall for her capitol. Most just figured that she was a very old and very wise ruler who had a reason for everything she did.

Twilight knew the reason, though. It was Luna’s first year back from exile, and Princess Celestia had wanted to do something nice for her little sister, who had always loved the snow. One day, over coffee on Luna’s balcony, Luna had gotten a little poetic on Twilight, likening the crunch of freshly fallen snow beneath her hoof to the feeling of treading upon the coarse dust of the moon – though, according to Luna, snow was infinitely less likely to set off one’s allergies. Twilight had had a laugh at that. There was something funny about the image of the Lunar Princess standing on the surface of the moon and sneezing, allergic to the very source of her power.

It was an early morning that found Twilight walking down Sunday Street. Her chakram was strapped to her side, as always, and she wore a faded rainbow-colored scarf tied around her neck to fight off the bitter cold. The ratty old thing was frayed at the edges, and long enough to wrap several times around her throat. Years of wear had stretched gaps in the knitting, so it wasn’t quite as warm as it once was, but she’d had it for so long that she just never bothered replacing it. She tugged at it with her magic, pulling it tighter around herself as she let her eyes wander and take in the sights.

The last time she’d been in the neighborhood it had been like a ghost town. During the disappearances a little over two months ago, Sunday Street had been the residential neighborhood that had been hit hardest, but you wouldn’t know it to look around now. Everywhere she turned the streets were filled with the sight of smiling faces and the almost musical sound of laughter.

Twilight’s eyes flicked to the side as she caught a blur of movement on the periphery of her vision. A wall of magical energy sprung up in the blink of an eye, just in time to catch a loosely packed snowball that struck her quickly erected shield. The high-density shield thrummed with enough magic that it made the surface slightly warm to the touch, and the remains of the snowball slid to the ground as a watery slush.

A group of foals – fillies and colts, some of them too young to even have their Marks – stood across the street, staring at her with wide, panicked eyes. A small earth pony filly was standing upright, frozen, one hoof still outstretched in mid-throw in Twilight’s direction. A little pegasus colt was treading air a bit off the ground, apparently having been the intended victim of the snowball.

The children seemed to be uncertain what to do. Their eyes were darting around nervously as they shifted their weight on their hooves. They were probably wondering if they should make a break for it, but it didn’t seem like anypony was willing to be the first one to give the shout to scatter. The filly that had thrown the snowball opened her mouth, but before she could speak her balance betrayed her and she pitched forward, falling face-first into the snow.

Twilight waved at the group of children, hoping that her wide smile was enough to assure them that she wasn’t angry about the mistake. They let out a chorus of nervous laughter, and soon the filly had gathered another snowball and resumed her attack on the quick little colt.

Twilight continued on her way, nodded at the smiling ponies she passed and reflexively returning their seasonal greetings. She reached her destination and opened the wrought-iron fence surrounding the small yard of the only orange house on the block. The bright orange paint made the house look like a great big frosted pumpkin. She climbed the stoop and knocked twice.

After a minute or so the door unlocked with a loud click and slowly cracked open. The pony on the other side peered out at Twilight cautiously. “Oh!” the pony exclaimed as the door flew open the rest of the way. A teal-coated pegasus mare with a shock of messy, gingery-red hair stood in the doorway, smiling at Twilight welcomingly. “Twilight Sparkle! It’s so good to see you! Come in out of the cold, you silly thing.”

“It’s good to see you, too, Lollipop,” Twilight said with a smile. She gave herself one last shake and wiped her hooves on the welcome mat before stepping inside. The warmth of Lollipop’s home wrapped around Twilight like blanket, and the smell of gingerbread was practically thick enough in the air to take a bite out of.

Lollipop shut the door once Twilight was inside, locking it immediately. “Let me take your scarf, Twilight.”

“Thanks,” Twilight said as she unraveled the length of knitted yarn.

Lollipop hung the scarf on an empty hat rack and beckoned Twilight into the living room. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you, but you look great, been working out?” she cheerfully commented as she pointed at the couch. “Take a seat. Let me get you some cocoa to warm up. I just finished up a batch.”

“That sounds great, and I’m always working out, you know that,” Twilight said with a laugh. She settled onto the plastic-covered couch, crinkling and squeaking as she sunk into the cushions.

“You guards sure do like your exercise,” Lollipop said as she disappeared into the kitchen.

Twilight looked around the room, slowly drinking in the holiday decor Lollipop had put up. There wasn’t a centimeter of bare space on any wall or table. Fluffy sheets of cotton were laid out on every table and shelf like decorative snow, and little wooden houses and train sets were arranged in carefully constructed dioramas. Tiny toy ponies were walking through the ‘snowy’ streets, going about their toy-business and waving to one another with holiday cheer. Strings of tinsel and long trails of holly were hung everywhere, and all the family portraits and vacation photos on the walls had been rotated out with more festive pictures of family members opening Hearth’s Warming gifts and sledding down snow covered hills. A lush fir tree sat in one corner, decorated with candy canes, gingerbread ponies, ornaments, lights, and still more tinsel – so much tinsel. Beneath the tree was a modest pile of presents awaiting the big day.

And that was just in the hallway and the living room, the rest of the house was probably just as lavishly decorated. It had to have taken hours, even days to decorate the house so thoroughly. Though, from what Twilight had heard, Lollipop definitely had the time on her hooves to do it.

“Where’s your brother at?” Twilight asked, raising her voice to be heard over the ruckus Lollipop was making in the kitchen. She was being awfully loud for somepony who was just pouring a couple of mugs of cocoa.

“He’s taking care of some last minute business at the office,” Lollipop shouted back. There was a pause in the commotion she was making, but it only lasted a moment. “He’s been working a lot of overtime lately…”

Twilight frowned at the note of embarrassment – maybe even shame – in Lollipop’s tone. The way her voice had trailed off hinted at the unspoken half of that statement: “…because we need the money.”

Lollipop cantered into the living room with her wings stretched out at her sides, a steamy mug of hot cocoa sitting atop each wing. Each mug had a pile of whip cream, sprinkles, marshmallows, a cherry, and a long straw. She carefully set the mugs down on the coffee table and took a seat on the floor, leaning back against the couch.

It would be awkward holding a conversation at two different heights, so Twilight slid off the couch to join her friend on the floor. She lifted the mug with her magic and examined the professional-grade mug of cocoa. It looked delicious, and even the straw was made of some kind of edible chocolate covered wafer. This was just a reminder that the mare hadn’t risen to her position in the royal kitchens on good looks alone – she had some serious sugarcoated chops.

“So what’s been up with you?” Lollipop asked cheerily. She sipped at the cocoa through the straw and lapped a dollop of the whipped cream off the top.

“Nothing much,” Twilight commented as she plucked the cherry off the top of her mug. “I’ve been really busy the last couple of months because of all that nonsense stirred up by Discord.”

Lollipop lifted her mug between her hooves and took a sip, trying to hide the hesitation that Twilight caught in her body language. “That’s the, um… the stuff that happened the week after the Gala, right? I hear that madness stretched to all of Equestria. That’s what the papers said, anyway.”

Twilight chuckled. “Yeah, it’s not easy to keep cotton candy clouds and melting clocks under wraps. Princess Cadance has been traveling around putting out a lot of little political fires that came out of that mess, and where she goes, I go.” Twilight lifted her mug and slurped at it. The pile of whip cream tickled her nostrils, and there were little hints of cinnamon underneath the scent of chocolate and cream. “Seems like all we ever do is go around cleaning up in the aftermath of some magical catastrophe… Granted, there’s only been the two magical catastrophes since I’ve been on the job, but still!”

Lollipop laughed. “Sounds like hard work.”

“No, not really,” Twilight said as she licked a mustache of cream off her lip. “Not for me, anyway, since Princess Cadance is the one who does all the work. And it was mostly just a lot of politicians and nobles using Discord as an excuse to air out old grievances. They really didn’t even have a lot of grounds for most of their arguments, especially since Shining Armor and his friends put that crooked genie back in his bottle, so to speak. I honestly kind of wish I’d been here to get a piece of that guy, but the Princess and I were in Seaddle so she could settle a labor dispute for the city.”

“They turned him into a statue, right? What happened with that?” Lollipop asked with genuine interest in her voice.

“We’ve got it locked up. I’m not at liberty to say where. I honestly think they should toss it into the ocean, or grind it up and shoot the gravel into space, but Princess Celestia says she’d rather keep it somewhere where she can keep an eye on it.”

“Well… Princess Celestia knows best, I suppose,” Lollipop commented.

Twilight nodded, sighing as she stirred her cocoa with the cookie straw. The whipped cream had already mostly dissolved into the cocoa, and the marshmallows were plump with soaked up chocolate. She levitated one of the marshmallows into her mouth and chewed it.

“You know, I’ve been stopping by the kitchens every chance I get,” Twilight said. Lollipop tensed up visibly, despite Twilight’s attempts to keep her tone light and conversational. “Pepper Millie tells me you haven’t been to work for weeks.”

“I’m on vacation,” Lollipop explained too quickly.

“You used up all your vacation time, from what I was told,” Twilight countered. “All your sick days, too.”

Lollipop ruffled her feathers, but otherwise didn’t indicate that she heard or cared about what Twilight had just said.

“The Executive Butler wanted to fire you,” Twilight added softly. Lollipop flinched, but otherwise remained unresponsive. “You’ve still technically got your job, though. Apparently Princess Luna personally requested that he hold off on that decision. They’ve got Pepper Millie taking care of your station, and one of the staging cooks covering hers.”

“I haven’t been sleeping well,” Lollipop admitted in a small, quavering voice. “Princess Luna’s been helping me work some things out… she said you asked her to keep an eye on me. Thank you for that.”

“You’re welcome, but she would’ve done it anyway. She takes her Mistress of the Night deal very seriously.” Twilight set her half-empty cup back on the saucer and sighed. “Why don’t you want to go back to work, Lollipop?”

“I just don’t want to be there,” Lollipop explained sadly.

“Do you not feel safe?” Twilight asked patiently.

“It’s not about safety. I know those things are gone now.” The pegasus mare shook her head, the corners of her eyes twinkling with moisture in the colorful blinking lights on the tree. “I know what you’re probably thinking, and no, I haven’t become a shut-in. I go out and do my shopping and visit friends and stuff… I just don’t want to go back to the castle. It’s not about being afraid or anything, I just feel… uncomfortable.”

Twilight scooted closer to her friend, until they were sitting shoulder-to-shoulder. “Explain it to me.”

“See these mugs? This dish? The plastic on the furniture?” Lollipop tapped each of the items with her hoof as she listed them. “All new. The dishware, the beddings, the couch covers, the throw pillows – I chucked it all… That thing that was pretending to be me was here, using all my stuff, living in my space. I… I can’t sanitize the kitchens in the castle of that thing’s presence the way I can my own house, so I don’t feel good being there.” Lollipop shook her head sadly, a ragged sigh shuddering its way out of her lungs. “I’ve always been very peculiar about my things. I don’t like anypony touching anything that’s mine, and this whole changeling thing? It makes me feel so incredibly violated, I can’t stand it.”

“Lollipop, you can’t let this thing go on,” Twilight said, hoping that her tone came across more supportive than lecturing. “You have to get back to your life eventually.”

“I will,” Lollipop said, her voice strengthening with a shade of confidence. “I just need some more time. Like I said, the princess and I are working on it. She’s been incredible.”

Twilight leaned against the couch, letting her head fall back to stare up at the ceiling – which was covered in festive, holiday-themed decals.

Lollipop was a friend. Admittedly not a friend she spent a lot of time with outside of the castle, but she was a good mare, and nice to everypony she met. Seeing her friend struggling like this was like a massive weight pressing down on Twilight’s chest, but there wasn’t much she could do for the girl. Lollipop, the bubbly little pegasus with the sweet personality and even sweeter tooth, had had something terrible befall her. She’d been rescued, but nopony would argue that being abducted and held hostage for weeks was anything short of traumatic. Everypony dealt with trauma on their own terms, and Lollipop probably wasn’t even alone among the twenty-nine victims struggling with these exact feelings.

“I was thinking about moving, you know?” Lollipop added. “I wanted to try and, I don’t know, run away, I guess. I know Bit would’ve come with me, wherever I went. I know he always has my back... I don’t feel that way anymore, but I’m still considering moving. I want to get a fresh start somewhere new, but I won’t make the decision until I know I’ve licked this thing. If I go somewhere else it’ll be because I want to, not because something else drove me to it.”

Twilight sat up straight and pulled the cookie-straw free from the drink. She ate it in two quick bites. “If you need anything,” Twilight said as she chewed on the treat, “anything at all, you come tell me, okay?”

Lollipop smiled, and the weight on Twilight’s chest lightened just a bit for seeing it. “You and Pepper, I swear,” she said with a laugh. “She said the same thing. She comes by every other day to bring me snacks and give me the rundown on the castle gossip.”

“She’s a good friend, you should hold on to her,” Twilight said.

“She’s a great friend, and I intend to,” Lollipop replied.

Twilight raised an eyebrow. “A great friend, huh?”

Lollipop sipped her nearly forgotten cocoa and narrowed her eyes in appraisal. “What’s that tone supposed to be implying?”

“I’m not implying anything,” Twilight said, raising her hooves in deference. “I’m just saying, I do have an ‘in’ with the Princess of Love. I could get you two some really nice reservations at a great place for cheap. And I’m not just talking about restaurants, if you get my meaning.”

“Dirty!” Lollipop scoffed and leaned away from Twilight to slap her lightly on the shoulder with a wing. “You don’t tease, or next time I make you cocoa I might ‘accidentally’ forget the cherry.”

Twilight’s other eyebrow went up at that. “Is that a threat?”

“A threat?” Lollipop repeated, holding a hoof to her chest and feigning offense. “No, Miss Royal Guard.” Lollipop leaned closer, her eyes narrowed to slits, her voice dropping a few octaves, and her posture doing its best to make her look intimidating. “It’s no threat – it’s a promise.”

Twilight snorted with laughter. The entirely too serious look on the other girl’s face had simply been beyond adorable. It was the cutest, most harmless threat she’d ever received.


* * *


Being that it was only a week until Hearth’s Warming, the majority of the castle’s staff was on vacation. The castle was a massive household with a sizeable staff, but Princess Celestia always made sure that her servants got to spend the majority of their holidays with family and friends – and that included the Guard. Many of the older Royal Guards with families were off on leave, leaving the younger guards – who had less personal responsibilities and more drive to distinguish themselves by taking extra shifts – holding down the fort.

One nice thing about the reduced Guard presence was that the training grounds were not as crowded as they usually were. PT schedules had been drastically reduced, so Twilight had the grounds mostly to herself aside from a few off duty stallions who were taking advantage of the cleared, open fields to play hoofball and generally screw around.

After the morning she’d had at Lollipop’s, Twilight really needed the physical release that came from a good workout.

She stood at the end of the targeting range, a long rectangular field where guards could practice their long-ranged tactics. For unicorns, that meant spellwork, and for everypony else, archery or spear-throwing. Twilight ignored the targets – ‘dummies’ made of wooden posts about as wide around as a stallion’s barrel – as she stood at one of the sidelines and stared downrange to the opposite side. The range was exactly twenty meters wide, just around the length of the chasm she’d jumped a few months back, during the incident on the night of the Grand Galloping Gala.

She checked her chakram, making sure that it was still properly seated in its holster. She took a deep breath, letting the rush of frosty air nip at her lungs. The sweat on her coat from her warm-up run made every brush of the winter winds tingle refreshingly against her skin, and the wispy fog of her breath curled up and out the corners of her mouth like smoke from a snoring dragon.

Twilight built magic in her horn and teleported herself across the field in a flash of light and a bang of displaced air. She appeared on the other side of the range and found herself staring at the spot she’d just been standing. Months of practice had increased her maximum range for the spell, and she now had enough proficiency to reorient herself during the casting without moving. If she’d really wanted to, she could have teleported even further, but that wasn’t what this exercise was about.

She grunted in satisfaction and cast the spell again – then again and again.

The air filled with the sharp, staccato rhythm of her rapid-fire teleports. Twilight’s horn began to burn with the amount of magic she was channeling through it, and her coat was dripping with sweat from the physical effort of her magical stamina training. She stopped at twenty repetitions, her throat painfully dry as she sucked in the frigid air.

Twilight took a few steps back from the line, giving herself some room for the next part of the exercise. She craned her neck and gripped her chakram with her teeth, carefully minding her tongue. She was in no danger of cutting herself – the blade wasn’t all that sharp unless she was channeling magic through it – but it was made of steel, and it was quite cold out, and any foal with more curiosity than sense could tell you what happened if you put your wet tongue on cold steel.

Twilight tensed the muscles in her neck, dipped her head, and flung the weapon as hard as she could straight into the air. She watched it spin straight up, reach its apex, and fall back to the earth. Just before it hit the ground, she snagged it with her magic, redirected its momentum in a wide circle around herself, and flung it across the field. She charged her horn and teleported, reappearing on the opposite side with the chakram flying right at her face. She caught it in a field of magic again, swung it around, and repeated the feat.

On the twentieth repetition, Twilight aimed her throw at a sharper angle, tossing the disc high into the air. She watched its trajectory and teleported, rematerializing five meters off the ground. She caught the chakram once more, and as she fell she took aim at one of the wooden dummies. She threw her weapon, channeling just enough magic through it to sharpen the blade. The chakram struck its mark with a loud thud, like an axe sinking into a tree.

Twilight landed on her hooves with a weary grunt, almost losing her balance as her legs tried to buckle under her from fatigue and the force of the drop she’d just taken. She hung her head as she panted, desperately pulling in the air her muscles were screaming for. Pegasi and earth ponies thought that unicorn magic made everything easy, but they didn’t realize that channeling serious magic was as taxing as any physical activity. Little things like levitating small objects or casting a talent-aligned spell were no more difficult than walking, but high level stuff like teleportation took a toll on the body that was more like running a dozen marathons carrying a fully loaded saddlebag.

Twilight steadied herself with one last big breath and tugged her chakram free from the target dummy with her magic, smiling as she holstered the weapon. The last time she’d run that drill the final toss had missed the target completely, sinking it into the earthen berm built up behind the row of dummies to catch any errant projectiles.

Somepony behind Twilight cleared her throat, and Twilight turned to find Cadance standing a few paces away, a wide smile on her face.

“You’re looking very well, Decurion,” Cadance said. She was speaking in her public voice, carefully enunciating every word as she carried herself with the regal poise drilled into her as a young princess by her etiquette instructors. “It’s quite comforting to know that my stalwart knight is doing her best to remain fit and ready for action.”

Twilight smiled and lowered herself into a bow. “I’m always ready to serve my princess,” she said.

Cadance’s royal countenance cracked as her eyes glittered with something lusty. “Perhaps later, Decurion,” she said in a half-whisper. She inclined her head to the side, indicating something nearby. “I’m afraid your fan club is watching.”

Twilight blinked. She looked to where Cadance had nodded and suddenly remembered the group of off duty guards that had been roughhousing a short distance away. They were huddled together around the unicorn in their group, who was explaining something to the others as they whispered animatedly.

One of the stallions looked back up and noticed their group being watched. His eyes went wide as he elbowed the unicorn in the ribs. The interruption drew stares from the others and their heads all snapped around as they noticed where he was looking.

“H-hey, boys, why don’t we go get some sticks and skates, go play some hockey?” one of the stallions said loudly enough for his voice to carry across the training grounds. There was a general chorus of agreement as the group bowed to their princess and hurried away.

“Well, well, alone at last,” Cadance sang merrily.

“I think you scared them off,” Twilight said with a grin.

“Wasn’t me,” Cadance teased. “They were watching your workout. I think they were impressed.”

Twilight frowned after the stallions. “I didn’t do it to impress anypony,” she grumbled.

“Doesn’t mean they weren’t impressed,” Cadance told her with a cluck of her tongue. “You saw how excited that unicorn was? He just watched you shame every magic instructor he ever had in sheer muscle.”

“Shining could have run this drill, too,” Twilight pointed out. After a moment of thought she added, “Minus the game of catch, that is. I don’t think he’s got the coordination for it.”

“Yes, the personal student of Princess Celestia, who is just about as magical as you are, is the Element of Magic, and has about six more years of formal specialized magical study, could do that same magical exercise,” Cadance said with a roll of her eyes. “Just admit you’re impressive.”

Twilight scrunched up her forehead in consternation, a low, nasally groan of annoyance escaping her.

Cadance’s smile grew three sizes. “That’s the sound you make when I’m right but you don’t want to say anything,” she teased.

Cadance whipped her head around, quickly scanning their surroundings, including the skies, for anypony that might be watching. They were alone, so she hopped forward playfully and planted a kiss on Twilight’s lips. As she pulled away, she flicked out her tongue and gave her girlfriend’s lips a sensual little lick.

Cadance’s face twisted up in apparent distaste as she smacked her lips. “Bleh, your mouth tastes all oily – and not tasty oily like a vinaigrette, gross oily like a wrench.”

“Oh, sorry, heh,” Twilight said with an embarrassed chuckle. “It’s steel polish from the chakram and the little bit of grease I add to the holster to make it easier to draw. Honestly, I don’t even taste it anymore.”

“You’re also all sweaty,” Cadance added. “And while I enjoy your general feminine musk, other ponies might be offended. Let’s get you cleaned up. I want to take you somewhere fun today.”

“I’m not done working out,” Twilight said, frowning as she went over her mental checklist and found that she wasn’t even half done with the regimen she’d drawn up.

“Yes you are,” Cadance replied firmly. “Come on, I cleared my schedule so we’d have time to spend the week together, not so you could just do laps around the castle from now until Hearth’s Warming.”

“I wasn’t just going to run laps,” Twilight countered, “I was going to do push-ups, too! And read books… and…” Twilight’s will to press the issue was smothered under the weight of the glare Cadance was leveling at her. Cadance wasn’t often that insistent – even when she was upset, she preferred to gently wheedle until she got her way – but the rarity of her beautiful features curdling into a disapproving scowl made the look all the more striking. “…and I’ll just go and take a shower so we can go do something fun…”

The dark look in Cadance’s eyes vanished in a flash, like it had never been there, and Twilight realized she’d been played like a fiddle.

“Great!” Cadance exclaimed happily. “Race you to the bedroom!”

Cadance’s wings unfolded majestically, lifting her into the air as she sped off towards the castle.

Twilight heaved a weary, but amused, sigh, shaking her head as she charged her horn. Two quick teleports brought her to the castle, just beneath their balcony. Their room was too far up to reach in a single teleport, so she gave herself a running start and leapt into the air. She came out of her teleport in midair, a bit over halfway to the balcony. Her hooves hit the wall, and the momentum of her running jump carried through the teleport, holding her against the wall for a fraction of a second – just long enough to cast another teleport. She materialized onto the balcony just as Cadance was touching down.

The alicorn princess was pouting adorably. “Cheater,” Cadance huffed sourly.

“Says the girl with wings racing somepony without them,” Twilight said with a snicker. “And you could’ve teleported, too.”

“That wouldn’t have been very fair, either, would it? I can teleport about three times farther than you can.” Cadance flared her wings and tapped the tip of one against her horn.

“Yeah, you’ve got that alicorn edge, but you can’t cast as quickly as I can,” Twilight pointed out. She opened the balcony doors with her magic and headed for their private washroom. “I can cast three in the time it takes you to cast one, so it seems to me that it would’ve been a pretty even race.”

Cadance huffed, grumbling something unintelligible and most likely unprincess-like under her breath. She shut the doors and pulled the curtains closed, giving them some privacy and temporarily plunging their room into darkness.

Twilight flipped some light switches with her magic and stepped into the washroom. The fixtures of their in-suite bath were gilded with actual gold and glittered brightly in the artificial light. Twilight unbuckled the holster for her weapon and slipped it off, setting it down on the marble counter between the sinks. Cadance had ordered that a double-sink – which she called their ‘hers-and-hers sink’ – be installed in their room not long after they’d realized that their sleeping arrangement was pretty much permanent for the foreseeable future. The maids had already come in and done their job, judging from the fact that Cadance’s side of the counter was conspicuously free of dried, flakey globules of toothpaste. Cadance was a very clean mare, but she was not a morning pony, and in her post-sleep daze she always left toothpaste in and around the sink after brushing her teeth.

Twilight’s ears twitched as she heard Cadance busying herself in the bedroom, opening drawers and doing something with her various jewelry boxes.

“Where are you taking me?” Twilight shouted through the open door as she went to their enormous shower stall and got the water started. They had a nice big tub, with massage jets and everything, but tempting as that was, she was more in the mood for a shower.

“It’s a surprise!” Cadance shouted back. “You’ll see!”

Twilight shrugged and held her hoof under the streams, waiting for the temperature to even out. Their shower had three heads, one mounted on each wall. It was a good feature, considering the size of the stall, which was made to accommodate alicorns and could have probably fit all three princesses at once. The water warmed quickly and Twilight stepped in, closing the shower curtain behind herself.

The water pressure in the castle was good, and Twilight just stood in the shower for a while with her eyes closed in contentment as the hot water slowly warmed her bones. Physical exertion had kept the worst of the cold air’s effects at bay, but standing under a hot shower was just what she needed.

The shower curtain parted with a whisper as Cadance stepped in behind her. Twilight smiled as Cadance stood at her side, humming with delight as the water soaked her coat.

“You already had a bath this morning,” Twilight said. “You’re going to have to do your hair again.”

“Bathing alone is nice, but showering with you is better,” Cadance replied. “Restyling my mane isn’t too steep a price to pay for it.”

Cadance’s horn shimmered with magic as she adjusted the temperature. The water immediately dropped several degrees to a temperature just above lukewarm, and Twilight knew that if Cadance had her way it’d be even colder. Cadance was definitely only allowing the water to be as warm as it was out of consideration for Twilight, and any attempts to adjust it back up would invariably be met with protests of, “I’m hot!”

Cadance was an alicorn – one who had been born a pegasus, no less – which meant certain things for her preferences regarding shower temperature. Pegasi had a naturally high tolerance for extreme cold, which was useful for high-altitude flying, but it also meant that they weren’t the greatest fans of being overly hot. Feathers, Cadance had explained, did a very poor job of shedding heat.

Of course, Cadance never seemed to complain when they were cuddling, though she did have a tendency to kick the covers off in the middle of the night. Which sometimes gave Twilight very little choice about whether she wanted to cuddle or not – though that might have been a conscious decision on Cadance’s part to get more cuddles in.

Cuddling was extremely serious business in their bedroom.

Twilight sat on her haunches and pulled a dark purple washcloth from a hook on the wall. She scrubbed at her face, working the water into her coat to wash away some of the sweat and dirt before she got started with the shampoo. Next to her, Cadance was humming quietly, her eyes closed as she let the water run through her mane. The stream of warm water was straightening her hair, plastering it to the side of her face and down her long, elegant neck. The sight of it was enough to stall Twilight’s vigorous scrubbing for a few seconds, and judging from the satisfied grin on her face, Cadance knew she was being watched.

Twilight finished scrubbing – and ogling – and turned to peruse the pile of shampoos and conditioners and moisturizers that Cadance insisted she needed. Twilight frowned at the selection, trying to remember which one of the dozen or so bottles was hers. The choice had been much simpler before she’d become attached. Her previously favored brand had been thrown in the trash by Cadance, and replaced by an ever-changing lineup of frou-frou stuff – this month it was something that smelled like jasmine and plums.

A bottle towards the back lifted in the glow of Cadance’s magic. “Let me,” Cadance said as she shook the bottle, sloshing the contents around inside.

Twilight sat down and immediately felt Cadance’s body pressing against her back as the taller girl hugged her from behind. Cadance nuzzled her face into Twilight’s neck, leaving little kisses along the side of her face as she went. Twilight leaned her head back, enjoying the feeling of Cadance’s body pressed against hers, and was rewarded as her girlfriend peppered her exposed throat with soft kisses.

“Love you,” Cadance whispered sweetly. She pulled away, lightly grazing the tip of Twilight’s ear with her teeth as she did so.

Cadance was very much the ‘touchy’ type, and she was very prone to moments of spontaneous sensuality when they were alone together. Sexy though it was, Twilight knew it wasn’t explicitly an invitation to anything. It was just a moment of reassuring intimacy that Cadance wanted to share with her love. Though, of course, if Twilight did want to do something about it, Cadance certainly wouldn’t say no.

“You’re very tense,” Cadance said as she gently lathered Twilight’s coat, “in the shoulders especially.”

“It’s from the workout,” Twilight answered, rolling her shoulders as Cadance focused on the knot of muscles just behind her neck.

“No, it’s not just that,” Cadance said as she moved up to Twilight’s mane. “In general you’ve been kind of tense… You were going to see your friend today, right? How was she?”

Twilight busied her hooves by lathering her stomach and chest with the excess shampoo dripping down her coat as she thought about her visit with Lollipop. She’d known going there that the conversation might get a little heavy, and she hadn’t been disappointed. But for all the difficulty Lollipop was going through, she seemed to be making progress, and the rest of the visit had been pleasant.

“Not good, but getting better, I hope,” Twilight said.

“Not good in what way?” Cadance asked as she gathered up the strands of Twilight’s tail to be washed.

“Nightmares, for one,” Twilight sighed. “She said Luna’s been helping her, though, so she’s working on it.”

“She’s having nightmares about being abducted?”

Twilight felt Cadance gently maneuvering her head directly under one of the streams, and closed her eyes as the shampoo was washed out of her mane.

“She says it’s more about the fact that something impersonated her and was touching her stuff,” Twilight said with a frown. “It’s weird.”

“Not so weird,” Cadance said with a shrug. “You told me she has a fraternal twin, right? It’s not the same as being a biological twin, but it’s very similar. If I had to hazard a guess, she’s probably spent her life struggling to establish an identity for herself separate from her sibling’s, and having that taken away, even for a short time, was probably a pretty hard psychological blow.”

Twilight scratched at her head as she mulled that over. “You think?”

Cadance shrugged again. “I’ve never counseled her, so don’t put me on record, but that’d be my professional opinion at a glance.”

Being the Princess of Love, Cadance had spent her life studying the many forms of love. Most times that meant talking with ponies about their problems and counseling them. To that end, Cadance’s personal studies and formal education had earned her more than one certification or degree in the social sciences.

“I guess that makes sense,” Twilight admitted after mulling it over a while.

Cadance put back the bottle of Twilight’s shampoo and levitated four more, plucked seemingly at random from the group, and set them down next to Twilight. “Mane, body, tail, rinse, then mane and tail again with this one,” she instructed, pointing at each of the bottles before turning her back to Twilight.

Twilight picked up the first bottle and sniffed at it experimentally. Twilight might not have liked spending a lot of time lathering and rinsing and re-lathering, but Cadance insisted on ‘proper’ bathing procedure – and Twilight wasn’t about to complain about the results.

“Still no word from Basenji?” Cadance asked.

“No,” Twilight said with a heavy sigh. “I thought the first letter might’ve gotten lost in the mail, so I sent another, but still nothing.” She sighed again and focused on the task at hoof, gently kneading Cadance’s scalp until her head was surrounded by an enormous sphere of foam. Cadance’s fancy shampoos always produced an impressive amount of suds. She got the next bottle and began scrubbing at Cadance’s shoulders. “He’s got an important job, and I’m sure he’s just been busy, like we have. He’s probably up to his neck in research and waiting until he’s got something before he gets back to us. If he finds something, he’ll let us know… I’m sure he’s fine.”

Twilight moved down Cadance’s arms and stopped her scrubbing as Cadance laid a hoof atop hers. Cadance turned her head and met her gaze, her eyes soft and caring. Her mouth was curled up at the corners in a smile of gentle understanding.

“You’re sure he’s fine, but you’re still worried,” Cadance said held Twilight’s hoof up and nuzzled it gently. “I wish he was here, too.”

Twilight leaned forward and gave Cadance a peck on the lips. It was awkward, seated as they both were, to crane her neck up kiss the much taller girl, but they’d both had a lot of practice. Twilight pulled her hoof free and got back to scrubbing.

“He’ll let us know if he finds anything,” Twilight insisted a second time. An errant soap bubble rose up from the growing mass on Cadance’s back and floated into Twilight’s nostril, making her sneeze. “In the meantime I get to sit here worrying about this freaky corpse-snatching, heart-eating, super fast monster hanging over all our heads like a sword waiting to fall. I swear, if I didn’t have you and Luna to talk to, I’d have gone crazy by now.”

“What about Spitfire?” Cadance asked. “Or Glowstone?”

“Glowstone’s not plugged in to this,” Twilight said with a shake of her head. “He’s a good guy, and a good friend, but I don’t want to drag him into something this potentially dire. And Spitfire is… she’s been ducking me, I think.”

Cadance’s tail slipped from between Twilight’s hooves as Cadance spun around to face her. “What? You never told me that.”

Twilight rubbed at the back of her neck sheepishly. “It’s not a huge deal,” she said. “I’ve been trying to get in touch with her through her office at the Wonderbolts Academy, but every time I send a messenger he just comes back with a note from her secretary saying she’s on tour.”

“It’s winter,” Cadance said with a frown as she rinsed out her mane. “The Wonderbolts don’t do winter shows, it’s their off-season.”

“Yeah, I thought it was suspicious, too,” Twilight deadpanned. “She’s probably upset with me about something, but I never would have thought she was the avoidance type. I almost wish she’d try to pick another bar fight with me. Then at least I’d know what’s in her bonnet this time.”

Cadance levitated the last bottle of shampoo and finished her mane and tail herself, doing the job with her magic in half the time – with half the fun for both of them – compared to letting Twilight do it.

“I’m sure she’ll get over it, whatever it is,” Cadance assured her. “I can’t imagine anypony staying mad at somepony as cute as you.”

Twilight lifted an eyebrow questioningly. “Princess Cadance, are you trying to butter me up?”

Cadance shut off the water and threw open the curtain. A bundle of towels floated in and she began drying herself off. “Oh, honey. You should know by now that if I wanted to butter you up I’d just use the massage butter in the nightstand.”

“But then we’d just need another bath,” Twilight pointed out. She grabbed a towel of her own and used her magic to fold it around her mane for later drying. She let out a yelp of surprise as she suddenly felt a sharp sting on her flank, accompanied by a loud, wet slap.

Cadance shook her wing free of the last of the water. “Don’t tempt me. It’ll make us late for our dinner appointment.”

“So it’s dinner?” Twilight asked as she gently massaged the tender spot on her flank where she’d been assaulted. “Is that the fun place we’re going? It’s a restaurant?”

“There will be dinner,” Cadance said mysteriously. “And it will be fun. That’s all you get for now.”

Twilight grabbed another towel and wrapped it around herself as she stepped out of the shower. “I can’t wait,” she said cheerfully.


* * *


She’d been had.

Twilight sat on the couch in her parents’ living room, leaning against the arm rest and staring at the flames dancing in the hearth. Her mother was seated on the other side of the couch and Cadance was between them. The two mares were huddled together over a photo album and fawning over every picture. Her father was sitting in a recliner off to the side, his usual cup of pre-dinner coffee and the evening edition of the paper floating in his magic.

“You said we were going somewhere fun,” Twilight sighed.

“This is fun!” Cadance declared happily. “Don’t you like visiting your parents?”

“Of course I do,” Twilight grumbled. “No offense, mom and dad, but I was promised something fun, and we visit all the time.”

Her dad slurped loudly at his coffee. “None taken, Sparky,” he assured her. “Your mother’s the same way.”

“Oh, you love my surprises, don’t you start,” Twilight Velvet warned him.

Night Light remained silent, choosing instead to rustle the pages of his paper and continue reading as though he weren’t involved in the conversation.

Twilight didn’t blame him. Her father was a smart stallion, and he’d figured out quickly that it wasn’t smart to make yourself a target when Twilight Velvet and Princess Mi Amore Cadenza got together. As happy as she was that her girlfriend and her mother got along, she sort of wished that they weren’t so… BFF-ish. It was a little unsettling how well they got along.

“I thought you guys were going on a cruise,” Twilight pointed out. “What happened with that?”

Twilight Velvet shrugged. “We decided to cancel. Your brothers and their friends are going to be coming into town in a few days to be in the official Hearth’s Warming pageant. Plus, this is the first year that any of our children have had special someponies to bring home for the holiday. Neither of those is something we wanted to miss. You all grew up so fast, your dad and I just want to be here to see as many of your ‘firsts’ as you have left.”

Twilight suddenly felt a very ashamed of all the pouting she’d been doing. She really had been expecting to spend a nice romantic evening alone with Cadance, and that had been a let down, but that was no reason to take it out on her poor parents. She loved her parents, and she loved that Cadance went out of her way to make sure they were still a big part of her life.

She would have to make it up to both of them later.

“Oh, oh, look at this one!” Cadance gushed excitedly as she pointed down at one of the pictures.

Twilight glanced over to see what Cadance was so excited about. She recognized the picture. It had been taken during summer break when she was a filly. The family had taken a train to the shore and stayed for the weekend. In the picture, she was standing on the sand, wearing an enormous straw sunhat and a gigantic pair of sunglasses that her father had bought from an overpriced souvenir shop on the boardwalk. Both items of clothing were entirely too large for her, and she was posing awkwardly, trying to smile at the camera while also standing in profile to show off her Cutie Mark. That had been the year she’d gotten it, and every picture from that trip would definitely involve a similarly awkward pose so she could squeeze her new Mark into frame.

The memory of it brought a sad smile to her face. The side that the little filly in the picture was so proudly displaying for the camera now sported a long, ugly scar over her precious Cutie Mark. She couldn’t help but wonder what that younger version of herself would think of what her life would become in just a few years.

“My special girl was so cute!” Cadance cooed girlishly. “Oh, and look at this one!”

Twilight rolled her eyes and leaned back against the couch. “How are there still pictures of me you haven’t seen?”

“There aren’t,” Cadance said happily. “I’ve seen them all, but that doesn’t mean you’re not still the most precious thing I’ve ever seen!”

Night Light chuckled from behind his newspaper. Twilight knew he couldn’t see her through the paper, but she glared at him anyway.

“Aw, look at you in the bath!” Cadance exclaimed as she held up the album and pointed at a picture of Twilight as a newborn foal. She was sitting in the kitchen sink in barely enough water to soak her butt, leaning against the side of the sink with her eyes closed, clearly asleep.

“Why is that in the same album as that last picture?” Twilight asked. “That’s not chronologically correct.”

“No, but it’s thematically correct,” Twilight Velvet pointed out.

Twilight raised an eyebrow. “What theme…?”

“You being adorable,” her mother answered as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“I just can’t get over how cute she was,” Cadance said as she set the album back on the table. “She’s such a little sleepy-butt in that sink. I wish I could’ve been there to see it myself.”

“Well, you can take comfort in the fact that you get to see her in the bath now,” Twilight Velvet said as she popped a chocolate bonbon into her mouth from the open, half-emptied tin on the coffee table.

“Mom!” Twilight shouted, her cheeks burning with embarrassment.

“Oh, settle down, Sparky,” Twilight Velvet laughed.

Twilight glared at her girlfriend, who noticed the look and fluttered her eyelashes coquettishly. “You’re a bad influence on my mom.”

“Thank you!”

“I’m just saying,” Twilight continued. “I think it’s a little inappropriate that my mother makes off-color jokes at my expense.”

“Sparky, dear,” her mother began with a light peal of laughter. “I spent nearly twenty years raising you as a mother. Now that you’re grown and can stand on your own four hooves, I thought maybe we could try being friends.”

Twilight’s annoyance deflated at that admission. “Mom… of course you’re my friend…”

Cadance interrupted the tender moment the two Twilights were having with a sigh. “So cute… I wish I could’ve met you as a filly... I would’ve eaten you alive.”

Twilight rubbed at the spot between her eyes with a pained groan. “Sun above, that would’ve been weird.”

“How so?” Cadance asked with a curious tilt of her head that was eerily mirrored by Twilight Velvet.

“You’re five years older than I am,” Twilight pointed out. “When I was eight, you would’ve been thirteen. You would’ve been old enough to be my foalsitter.”

“Oh, I would’ve been the best foalsitter,” Cadance remarked with another dreamy sigh. “I’d give you a bath, then I’d put you to bed, I’d read you a story as I tucked you in…” Cadance tapped her chin thoughtfully as she put on a worryingly impish grin. “Actually, it wouldn’t be too different from our relationship now.”

Twilight physically shuddered at the image the comparison conjured in her mind. “That’s too creepy.”

“Love should be at least a little creepy,” Twilight Velvet suggested. “And you know she’s only saying it to make you squirm.”

“See, this is why we get along,” Cadance said, gesturing animatedly between herself and Twilight Velvet with both hooves. “You get me. You get my creep.”

A shrill ring filled the air as the timer on the stove went off, drawing every pair of eyes towards the kitchen. Twilight Velvet gently closed the album and covered the tin of chocolates before standing. She retrieved her apron, which had been carefully folded and draped over the back of the couch, and tied it around herself with magic.

“That’s my cue,” Twilight Velvet said. Her horn lit again and the angry buzz stopped. “Cadance, do you want to help me finish cooking dinner?”

“Yes, ma’am!” Cadance cast a quick conjuring spell that summoned an apron of her own. It was bright pink, considerably more frilly, and less in need of a wash than the older Twilight’s plain white number.

The two mares disappeared into the kitchen to tend to dinner, leaving Twilight and her father alone in the living room.

“She never asks me to help her in the kitchen,” Twilight grumbled.

“That’s because you tend to burn things, Sparky,” Night Light said glibly. He folded his paper noisily and set it down on the table to use as an improvised coaster for his now empty coffee cup.

“She’s doesn’t act this way when Rarity visits, does she?” Twilight asked.

Her father shrugged. “Rarity doesn’t visit as often, but when she does…?” He paused, as is thinking about his answer, before smiling widely. “No, not even by half. She likes Rarity, but it’s not the same with her as it is with Cadance.”

Twilight shook her head in disbelief. “I knew Cadance was a bad influence.”

“They’re a bad influence on one another,” Night Light said. “Cadance and your mom are a lot alike. They’re sort of feeding off each other, I suppose.”

“Mom and Cadance are alike?” Twilight asked with a raised eyebrow. “My mother, the mare who tried to make me wear a hoofball helmet to the first day of magic kindergarten, is like my girlfriend, the mare who tried to make me wear a hoofball helmet…” Twilight shook her head, her cheeks burning as she realized what she was just about to admit. “Well, never mind the where or why! Just… Mom and Cadance, really?”

He shrugged again. “She wasn’t always your mom,” he explained. “All the responsibility and the worrying and the fussing… that came after Shining was born. When you all were children, you didn’t need a friend, you needed a mother. Now that you’re older, it’s like she said. She wants to give being friends a shot.”

“I don’t need a mom anymore,” Twilight admitted in a small voice, “but I do kind of want one.”

Night Light smiled at her. It was the same gentle, loving smile he’d give her as a filly when he was being very patient with her. “She’s still your mom, Sparky,” he said softly. “She’s always going to love you, and care about you, and she’s always going to worry – but now she wants your relationship to be something more. She wants it to be bigger.”

Twilight chewed her lip, trying to follow what her father was saying. “It’s kind of weird to hear it all laid out like that,” she murmured.

“It’s weird for her, too. You’re a completely different person than you were when the nurse put you in her arms. She got to watch you grow into the mare that you are. She’s still feeling out this new dimension of your relationship. Just… be patient with her.”

“I’m trying to be,” Twilight said with a nod, “but she’s not making it easy.”

Night Light threw back his head and laughed. “No, no she isn’t! But that’s both of our faults for falling in love with a certain kind of mare, isn’t it?”

“You know,” Twilight began, “Cadance and I have been together for a while now, and we come over here a lot. I probably would’ve enjoyed visiting a bit more if this had been explained to me sooner.”

“Your mom is only just barely working it out herself,” Night Light said. “It’s not anything she planned. Like I said, Cadance and your mom sort of bring it out in one another.”

Twilight exhaled through her nostrils and watched the fire burn in the hearth as she let her father’s words sink in.

Admittedly, it would be nice to be better friends with her mother. She honestly couldn’t remember any time she’d seen her mom more excited to have guests over than when she and Cadance came to visit, and it did her heart good to see that smile. They were the two most important mares in her life, and she would have hated it if they hadn’t liked one another. She’d read and heard stories about ponies whose significant other didn’t get along with one, or even both, of their parents, and it wasn’t anything she would’ve wished for herself – or for her mom and Cadance, for that matter.

Family was important to Twilight, and Cadance treated her family very well. If a little bit of discomfort on her behalf meant that Cadance and her mother continued getting along, she’d just have to pay that price.

Night Light’s recliner creaked as he craned his neck and tried to peer into the kitchen to see if anypony was coming. He quickly opened the lid on the tin of chocolates and floated one into his mouth. “So how’s work been?” Night Light asked as he chewed.

For only a brief, tempting second, Twilight considered telling her dad about how work had been. She considered talking about her friend who was so traumatized by her abduction that she was struggling with the decision of even staying in Canterlot. She considered telling him that there was a heart-eating monster that could steal bodies and move faster than you could blink, and not only knew her name, but apparently had an interest in her and said he’d probably see her again soon. She considered explaining that her ally that was likely best armed to combat said monster was an entire continent away, and not responding to her attempts to communicate.

“It’s been busy…” she said after a moment of thought. The unmistakably familiar sound of Cadance’s laughter drifted in from the kitchen, filling her chest with warmth. “…but it’s nothing I can’t handle.”


* * *


The streets of Canterlot glowed with the fuzzy warmth of colored lights that were meant to be more festive than practical, but did the job through sheer numbers. It was late in the evening, closer to midnight than to dusk, but ponies were still out and about, gorging themselves on goodwill and holiday cheer. Food stalls were still open along the busier streets, dispensing hot drinks and warm snacks for families and couples touring the various light displays.

Twilight walked along the street, her eyes actively taking in her surroundings as she went. Cadance walked alongside her, levitating a bag of fresh caramel corn between them.

The night air was near-freezing, and the shadows of weather pegasi maneuvering snow-heavy clouds could be seen in the sky by the light of the glowing streets below. Twilight redid the knot of her rainbow-colored scarf with a twist of magic as she walked, pulling it tighter against the cold. Cadance was also wearing a scarf – a bright red, hoof-knitted thing with little white hearts all over it like polka dots – and had traded in her crown for a pair of fuzzy pink earmuffs.

“Try to relax, Twilight,” Cadance quietly commented as she floated a few bits of popcorn into her mouth. “We’re both off the clock. Right now we’re just a couple of ponies on a lovey-dovey stroll through town.”

Twilight gave her princess a sidelong glance. “I’m always on duty when I’m at your side,” she replied.

An earth pony filly wearing a woolen cap and little yellow snow boots caught sight of Twilight and Cadance. She stood on her hind legs, waving a hoof at Cadance so enthusiastically that the motion caught the attention of her parents and several others. Cadance giggled and returned the wave with as much enthusiasm as royal dignity allowed.

“Please, Twilight,” Cadance said out the corner of her mouth as she smiled and waved at several others that had taken the filly’s cue to greet their princess. “We’re in the middle of Canterlot, on a well-lit street, surrounded by our beloved ponies, with an on duty guard at every street corner. Relax.”

Twilight frowned, ratcheting down her state of readiness a few degrees.

Cadance’s kindly public façade fell away with a sigh. “Twilight, seriously. We’re not in court, we’re not on the castle grounds, and we’re not in an official meeting of any kind. Nopony is going to mind us letting our manes down a bit. Look, I’m not even wearing my crown right now.”

Cadance rarely ever appeared in public without her crown. Technically speaking, she didn’t have to wear the symbol of her power except when acting in an official capacity as a princess, or for purely ceremonial purposes. Even still, it signified her right to stand at the side of the other two princesses, and she took pride in always appearing the part. If she had opted to come out in public without her crown, it meant that she was being serious about trying to relax.

“Okay…” Twilight mumbled sheepishly. She shot a look at the bag of caramel popcorn and snatched a few pieces for herself.

“That’s my girl,” Cadance said with a grin. She raised a hoof and pointed to an unlit passageway between two buildings. “Now follow me into that darkened alley.”

Twilight groaned. “That’s not funny, Cadance.” She scanned the crowd with new eyes, looking for something fun to do. A bit up the street she found a pegasus stallion with an enormously poofy mane of curly blue hair selling balloons. A whole flock of them was tied to the big canister on his cart, and a group of ponies was standing around him as he deftly twisted and tied long balloons into complicated shapes and animals. “Hey, why don’t we go see if he’ll make us a couple of crowns?” Twilight snickered, pointing to the balloon artist.

Twilight blinked as she realized that Cadance wasn’t standing next to her. Her head whipped around in a frantic search for her missing princess, only to find Cadance stepping into the shadows of the alleyway she’d pointed out.

“Damnit, Cadance,” Twilight growled with frustration. She rushed to the alley with a half-trot, not wanting to draw attention to herself by moving too quickly.

Twilight lit her horn and glanced around, trying to find where Cadance had run off to. A cat with the half-eaten remains of a rat in its mouth got spooked by the sudden light and darted off further into the alley, bumping against a trash can that rattled noisily. There was no sign of the princess, and no place for her to hide, unless she’d crawled inside of one of those trash cans – and that wasn’t very likely for Cadance, not even for a prank. On a hunch she looked up, just in time to catch a piece of popcorn right between the eyes.

Cadance floated a few yards overhead, treading air lazily, holding the popcorn bag between her hooves. “Knew you’d catch on,” she said with a wink. She rose a bit higher and landed on the roof of one of the buildings. “Come on, teleport up here with me.”

Twilight huffed, sending up a big plume of steamy air, and charged the spell. A second later she was standing on the roof next to Cadance, three stories above street level.

“Don’t pout,” Cadance said. “I said I’d take you somewhere fun, didn’t I?”

Twilight blinked. “Wait, wasn’t that what the visit with my parents was about?”

“Yes and no,” Cadance said with a grin. “I always have a ball hanging out with Velvet, but telling you that visiting your parents was the fun surprise was all a clever ruse to throw you off the trail of the real surprise.”

Twilight looked around. The tiled roof was covered with a thin layer of snow, and a pair of hissing yowls came up from the alleyway as the cat from earlier found another cat to fight over the remains of its catch... or they might have been mating. Either way, it wasn’t a very romantic spot… for ponies.

“I, uh… I love it, you shouldn’t have,” Twilight deadpanned.

“This isn’t the surprise, you silly,” Cadance huff with an adorable roll of her eyes. She jerked her head up the slope of the pitched roof and carefully walked up the incline.

Twilight followed, curious as to what she would find waiting on the other side of the roof. What she found at the top of the roof was enough to stop her in her tracks.

The top half of an enormous tree rose above the line of houses a few streets down from where they stood. It was like the smaller trees that ponies kept in their homes, but a hundred times larger, and festooned with decorations that were likewise enlarged so they could be seen from a distance. There was a huge ribbon tied around the middle, done up in a bow large enough that the loops could be used as a hammock. There were a few searchlights pointed up at the tree, but it was difficult to make out too many details from this distance.

“Whoa…”

“You ain’t seen nothing yet, hon.” Cadance giggled as she swept a spot on the roof clear with a wing and conjured a blanket with her magic. A second pop of her magic sent the bag of popcorn away and she laid out the blanket and took a seat, beckoning Twilight to sit next to her. “Give it a few minutes.”

“Isn’t that where the big fountain is?” Twilight asked as she took her place on the blanket.

“Yeah, the one with the ‘No Peeing’ sign,” Cadance sniggered. “I had the fountain temporarily removed to free up some real estate. It was the only open space downtown large enough for the tree I picked out. The Parks Department spent the whole day putting it up.”

“Wait, that thing went up in just one day?” Twilight asked.

“I told them that I wanted to do it as a surprise for the Royal Guard that rescued all those abducted castle gardeners,” Cadance explained. “They were happy to put in the overtime.”

Twilight shook her head in disbelief. “That’s too much,” she muttered.

It started snowing.

The little snowflakes drifted down from the sky, swirling around and dancing in the glow of the streetlights. Almost as soon as the first flurries of snow touched the ground, the spotlights on the tree turned off, and the thousands upon thousands of lights that decorated the tree came on. The tree’s glow was like a beacon in the night, and even from this distance Twilight could hear the collective gasp of the ponies standing in its shadow to watch the light display come alive.

Somewhere near the square where the tree was displayed, somepony was playing a stringed instrument. Soon an entire orchestra was playing, filling the streets with beautiful music.

The spell was broken when Twilight felt Cadance’s lips against her cheek.

“I figured this spot would be just far enough from the crowd to give us some privacy,” Cadance whispered tenderly. She scooted closer, pressing their bodies together as she wrapped a wing around Twilight. “Happy Hearth’s Warming, Twilight Sparkle.”

“This is my Hearth’s Warming present?” Twilight asked.

“Nah, this isn’t one of your presents,” Cadance said with a dismissive wave. “This is just something nice I wanted to do for you. That everypony else in Canterlot gets to enjoy it is just a really great bonus.”

Twilight blinked away the tears forming at the corners of her eyes. The emotion welled up as a knot in her chest so powerful that it physically ached. “Cadance… this is…”

Cadance shushed her with a kiss, deep and tender as any they’d ever had.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Cadance told her. “I can feel your heart. Other ponies, I have to look for what they feel, but your heart shouts out to me.” She leaned down and nuzzle Twilight lovingly. “I could hear it from anywhere. You don’t even realize how big it is – big enough to love the whole world if you wanted to. I’ve never met anypony so beautiful, and if it made you happy I’d put up a thousand trees just like this one.”

Twilight sniffled and ran a hoof over her eyes in a futile attempt to clear her vision of the tears streaking her face.

“This whole day,” Twilight said, her voice thickened to nearly a croak, “this whole day you’ve been trying to get me to slow down, haven’t you? The shower, dinner with my parents, and now this…”

There was a pregnant moment of silence before Cadance answered. “I know that… that you’re worried that we might be in for some scary stuff soon,” Cadance began. “In spite of all these dire warnings and bad feelings, the monsters and… and whatever the flip else will cross our path… I just wanted you to know that I’m always here for you, through thick and thin, by your side as long as you want me… I wanted you to know that I’ve always got your six.”

Twilight choked with laughter, every spasm squeezing more tears out of her eyes. “You have my six?” she asked between giggles.

“Don’t laugh, I was trying it out!” Cadance demanded with an angry pout. “Did I not use it right or something?”

“No, no, you did,” Twilight admitted as she whisked away the tears. “It was just unexpected. You were super cool, honey.”

“Okay, now you’re just being mean,” Cadance said with a chuckle of her own.

They sat for a while, letting the snow gather around them as they shared their warmth. Somepony had started singing carols to accompany the orchestra in the distance, and the streets hummed with a hundred voices gathered in an improvised chorus as the crowd joined in. For a few beautiful, glorious moments, it felt like the city itself was singing.

A snowflake landed on the tip of Twilight’s nose, forcing a sneeze out of her.

“That’s the second time you’ve sneezed today,” Cadance said with a worried murmur. “Are you getting sick?”

“No, I just had something tickle my nose,” Twilight replied.

Cadance narrowed her eyes, humming thoughtfully. Her horn lit as she summoned a small square box, tied with a pink bow and bearing a tag with Twilight’s name on it.

“I want you to have this now,” Cadance insisted as she set the present down in front of Twilight.

“Aw, Cadance, you can’t give it to me now, what’ll I open on the big day?” Twilight protested.

“It’s fine, I got you lots of other presents,” Cadance said with a smirk. “Word of advice – and this isn’t a hint – if you look under the tree on Hearth’s Warming Morning and see a present shaped like me wearing sexy lingerie, open it first. I’m only saying because – and again, this isn’t a hint – I’m not sure how easy it is to breathe inside of wrapping and I kind of don’t want to suffocate on Hearth’s Warming.”

Twilight made a show of rolling her eyes as she opened her present. It was a silly suggestion, but it was definitely the kind of thing Cadance would do.

“Sexy holiday mummy first, got it.”

Inside the box was a folded piece of cloth. Twilight ran her hoof over it. It was silk, dyed a shade of purple several shades darker than her own coat. She felt her scarf being undone by Cadance’s magic, exposing her throat to the chilly winter air. Cadance folded her old scarf and draped the new one over her shoulders.

“I enchanted this scarf myself,” Cadance proudly explained as she carefully wrapped it around Twilight. “It’s stain and tear-resistant, because I know how rough you can be on your clothes, and it’s fire-resistant, because I know you like to set things on fire. It’s also got a minor charm that helps hold in body heat, because I know you hate the cold.”

Twilight took the loose end of the scarf and brought it to her face, rubbing the smooth material against her face. It was the exact same kind of silk as their bed sheets. She breathed in the scent of it and found that it smelled faintly of Cadance’s favorite perfume.

“It smells like you,” Twilight commented happily.

Cadance smiled. “Thought you’d like that.”

“I love it,” Twilight said as she leaned against Cadance and kissed her again. “And I love you.”

“I love you, too, honey.”

Twilight closed her eyes and buried her face in the scarf. It was more than just a piece of clothing, it was all the little things that Cadance did and said to show that she cared, to show that she was always thinking about Twilight, all wrapped up into a single gift.

A sense of peace and understanding welled up in Twilight – a moment of clarity that rang like a bell inside her very soul. At that moment, she knew with more certainty than anything she’d ever known that she wanted Cadance to be with her forever.

Twilight lifted her face from the scarf and looked up at Cadance. Her girlfriend’s eyes were wide in apparent shock. A moment of confusion gave Twilight pause, then she realized that Cadance must have sensed what was in her heart.

At least that would make things easier.

Twilight licked her lips, swallowing down the lump in her throat as she turned to completely face her mare. “Cadance…” Twilight began. “I… I want you to marry me. I know it’s crazy, I don’t have a ring or a plan or a proper proposal, I didn’t set up anything special or ask Princess Celestia for your hoof or anything like that, but…”

Twilight’s stumbling, nervous, half-ranted proposal ended as Cadance pushed her down on the blanket and kissed her hard. They kissed and groped at one another, trying with all their might to communicate their love through touch – through lips and hooves and wings in a desperate need to share their warmth.

Twilight only remembered bits and pieces of how they got home. She remembered chasing after Cadance, who’d leapt into the air and challenged her to another race. She remembered laughing as she ran across the rooftops, teleporting over the heads of ponies in the streets below. She remembered shouting something at the guards when they asked her what was going on and why she was running. She remembered being warm, and feeling safer than she’d ever felt as she and Cadance reaffirmed their love for one another in the privacy of their bedchambers.

The next morning, tired, sweaty, and still glowing with the aftermath of their passions, Cadance finally managed to say yes.


* * *


> Chapter 8 - A Dog's Day
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Basenji sat at his desk, leaning against the backrest of his chair and idly twirling a long feather quill between his ink-stained digits. The wooden chair creaked as he rocked his weight back and forth and stared at the parchment on the desk. He scowled at the symbols written there. They were in his script, but even after six months of research and contemplation, he was no closer to deciphering what they meant than he was the first day he’d seen them.

Had it already been half a year since he’d traveled into the city of the Old Dogs?

He sighed as he tore his eyes from the page, and for a moment his vision went unfocused until he blinked away his disorientation. He’d been staring at the page so intensely that he’d stopped blinking. He placed his quill back in its inkwell and pushed the paperwork aside to clear enough space to lay down his head. The hard, wooden desk wasn’t nearly as comfortable as the mattress in the corner of his den, but it was closer, so it would do.

Wooden furniture wasn’t all that common in diamond dog dens. The average dog was a little more rough-and-tumble than was strictly advised for furniture made of something as easily broken as wood, and while his people churned out masons and smiths by the cartload, carpentry wasn’t something dogs put much stock in.

The desk was something of a family heirloom, having been purchased by his great-grandfather from a traveling pony trader, but without the sort of reverence that usually went along with an actual heirloom. It was simply a piece of furniture that had been in his family and mostly cared for, and somewhere along the way it had ended up in his den. Aside from his bed, and an old bookshelf cobbled together from iron plates and clay bricks, the desk was the only real piece of furniture he owned.

He lifted a paw and traced the edges of a small gouge mark in the desk near his head. Basenji’s father, Saluki, had dug the little furrow years ago, when he was a pup and studying under his own father. As a child, Saluki had been a nervous digger, which was a rather embarrassing tic that was something akin to bed-wetting on the spectrum of shameful puphood quirks. Nervous diggers unconsciously scratched their claws against any hard surface they could find, so severe cases sometimes meant having to wear big, padded gloves.

Basenji had also been a nervous digger – it was a very short phase, of course – and it was somehow comforting to know that his father had also overcome the same embarrassing condition. It was a small, unrelated comfort, but it took a bit of the sting off his continued failure to decipher the chakram’s secrets.

His stomach growled, reminding him that he’d skipped a meal or two during his studies. There was a small clay bowl near the edge of the desk, with a silver spoon peeking up over the side of it. He sniffed the air and caught the scent of porridge and charred cave lizard, indicating that he hadn’t even finished the last meal he’d attempted. He reached for the spoon, lifted it, and the bowl came up with it. He frowned, tilting the bowl enough to see inside without lifting his head. The porridge had dried into a thick, inedible paste, and the meat was frosted with congealed grease. The ground up amethyst he’d added to season the meal glittered prettily through the sticky muck.

Basenji huffed and set the bowl down to pick at the small pieces of meat, prying them free from the bowl with a moist squelch. He skewed them with one of his nails and popped the pieces in his mouth.

It tasted about as bad as he’d expected.

The heavy iron door at the entrance to his den rang with two quick, heavy knocks. Basenji sat up straight, tilting his head curiously at the door. “It’s open.”

The door opened and Shiba, the pack’s alpha dog, stepped in. He was a big dog, with a coat the same light-beige as Basenji’s, and his eyes were perpetually narrowed to slits like he was staring into the sun.

“Basenji,” Shiba said in simple greeting. His voice was deep and grating, as though he formed words by churning rocks together in his chest.

“Hello, Shiba,” Basenji said, returning the greeting. It was a feat of will to keep the suspicion out of his voice, but he managed a straight face as he smiled welcomingly. Basenji and Shiba had grown up together, and neither of them was on very friendly terms with the other. At the very least, their mutual positions of respect in the pack kept their infrequent interactions civil.

Shiba lifted his chin in the direction of the desk. “Still working on learning the trader’s tongue?”

Basenji frowned. “I already speak it. It’s the fine mechanics of the pony language that I am working on. It’s a matter of practice.”

The big alpha made a low, grumbling huff that blew out his jowls. “I don’t know why the horses need so many languages. Why can’t they all just speak zebra? Zebra tongue is easy.”

“Not all equines are the same, Shiba,” Basenji corrected him with a scowl. “Don’t be specist. Equestrians, Zebricans, and Saddle Arabians are all their own peoples with their own cultures, and so have their own languages.”

Shiba shifted his weight off his front paws and crossed his arms over his chest. “But zebra would still be easiest.”

Basenji shook his head and rose out of his chair. The untended lamps hanging from his walls had dimmed considerably since he’d last taken notice of them. He reached under the desk and pulled out the sack of firestones, then went to refill each of the lamps. The stones were prized for their ability to burn similarly to coal, but without smoke, and for longer periods of time. They were also considered a rare resource by most species, but it was common enough if you knew where to look, and there were few secrets the earth kept from dogs.

“What do you want, Shiba?” Basenji asked.

Shiba unfolded his arms and reached into the left pocket of the light blue vest he wore. He withdrew a plain white envelope and a few gems tumbled from his pocket onto the ground with the motion. He stooped to pick the gems off the floor and popped them into his mouth.

“You have a letter,” the big dog said between crunches.

Basenji dusted off his paws and stared at the slip of paper. Shiba was the sort of alpha who put his nose into everydog’s business, but he also had a very high opinion of himself. He wasn’t the kind that would bend his back to do anydog a favor, not unless it better served himself than the other dog.

But perhaps the better question was, what was he even doing in the mailroom? The pack’s mailroom wasn’t even very large for a postal center. It was just a small office connected to the mail carrier’s den. The pack only really used it to order things from catalogs or to communicate with family living in other packs.

“Found a new calling, have you?” Basenji asked. “I fully endorse this decision. Sorting the mail is a noble pursuit.”

Shiba’s lips pulled back in a grin, but the gleam in his eyes made Basenji feel like it wasn’t a friendly gesture. He held his gaze, grinning the whole time, and beckoned Basenji closer with a wave of the letter.

Basenji frowned, still confused as to what the overbearing alpha was doing delivering mail, and accepted the letter.

The letter had started as a plain white envelope, the kind with the flap that seals with a lick, but passing through dog paws had covered the once pristine paper with dirty brown prints. The letter was addressed to him, of course, with the return address missing. Even without that, Basenji knew who it was from. He’d been reading his father’s writing since before he was old enough to start learning his trade.

Basenji’s eyes narrowed as he found that someone had already opened the letter. The adhesive flap was still in tact, but one end of the envelope had been sliced open so the letter could slide out.

“Why is this opened?” Basenji asked, growling as his temper got the better of him.

Shiba just kept grinning. “You’ll have to take that up with Siti,” he said. “She manages the post.”

“And you just deliver it,” Basenji replied.

Shiba shrugged, still grinning.

Basenji narrowed his eyes and swallowed down the vitriol. That was what Shiba wanted – to start a fight over nothing. Basenji wouldn’t give him the satisfaction, not when it would have consequences for the pack.

Truthfully, Shiba was a busybody, but he wasn’t a terrible leader. He treated the majority of the pack with fairness and an even paw, but lately, that courtesy seemed to fall short when dealing with Basenji.

It hadn’t always been that way. They had never been friends, but at the very least they were never openly antagonistic to one another. They’d often been at one another’s throats as pups, but as they’d grown, they’d moved beyond that old rivalry, or so Basenji had thought. Shiba had been amongst the dogs that had tried to dissuade Basenji from following after Dingo when he’d disappeared. The alpha had taken it as a personal slight when Basenji left, and since Basenji’s return, Shiba had gone out of his way to dig up old bones.

Basenji shook his head and let go of the anger he was feeling. His privacy had been invaded by somedog that he disliked, but there was no point in fighting the big idiot. With Saluki gone and Dingo still… as he was… Basenji was the pack’s current lead drummer. It wouldn’t be good for the morale of the dogs in their care to see the pack’s two leaders coming to blows. If Shiba couldn’t see that, it was up to Basenji to be the bigger dog.

Basenji glared back at Shiba, held up the envelope, and blew a puff of air into the open end. He pulled out the letter and began to read.

It wasn’t a very long letter, just a single page written in his father’s tiny, elegant script. The first paragraph was the usual greetings and well-wishes, with a few questions asking how Dingo was doing. The next bit was about how excited he was to be working with the excavation team studying the city of the Old Dogs.

The third paragraph was what caught his eye, as it pertained to the subject he’d just been engrossed in.

I have been studying the rubbings you made of the chakram’s etchings. I’m still no closer to figuring out their meaning, and I hope you’ve been having better luck on that front than I. There are many treasures here, especially in the temple of Great Anubis, but none bear anything similar to the writings on the weapon. I said I approved of your decision to gift it to your friend, Twilight Sparkle, and I stick by that, but I also wish I could have had the chance to examine the artifact in person. This mysterious writing is vexing, and I don’t like being vexed. I consulted a few of the other scholars on the excavation team and roped them into helping, but I don’t think it’ll get us anywhere. They’re just as stumped as I am.

There was more to the letter, mostly academically interesting things about what they were learning of the way the Old Dogs lived, but Basenji’s concentration was shattered by the sound of crunching stones. He looked up from the letter to see Shiba still standing there, chewing another mouthful of gems he’d pulled from his vest pocket.

“It’s from Saluki, right?” Shiba asked, with casually feigned ignorance.

“As if you didn’t know.” Basenji folded the letter and went to place it in one of his desk drawers. The end of an old brass key stuck a few inches out of the lock, and Basenji almost locked it, but decided at the last moment to leave it be. If Shiba decided to invade his privacy a second time, the lock wouldn’t do anything to stop it. He’d just end up with a broken drawer.

“You need to stop staring at that chicken-scratch,” Shiba grumbled, evidently deciding to forego the pretense that he didn’t know what was in the letter. “You’ll never be able to read it. And even if you did figure out what it said, so what? Point is – it’s distracting you from your duties.”

“You don’t even know what my duties are, Shiba,” Basenji replied.

“You’re supposed to be helping me lead this pack,” Shiba snapped angrily. “Instead you waste your time doing pointless research.”

“It’s not pointless. It’s important.”

“Important to that pet pony of yours,” Shiba countered. “You’re more concerned with outsiders than you are with your own people.”

Basenji stiffened at the accusation. His eyes narrowed, but he refused to so much as turn to face Shiba. “If the mail is the only thing you were here to deliver… then thank you for doing so. You will leave now.”

Basenji watched his guest out the corner of his eye, as Shiba’s own gaze slowly drifted towards something at the foot of the desk. Basenji’s drum, the symbol of his power, office, and expertise in the Ways of the Old Dogs, sat there, easily within reach. As a drummer, Basenji was skilled in what other races called magic. The Ways were the method through which their ancestors interacted with the world, both physical and spiritual. Drummers could draw upon this knowledge to perform incredible feats, and only drummers knew the extent of what a drummer could do with that power.

Shiba licked his lips nervously. Something in Basenji’s words must have smelled threatening to the big dog, and his eyes had gone straight for what he perceived in his simple ignorance to be a weapon. The Ways did not lend themselves well towards immediate, explosive violence, but Shiba didn’t know that. And even if Basenji could use his power to directly hurt another dog who had insulted him, he wouldn’t – Shiba apparently didn’t know that, either.

Shiba huffed again, slobber flinging from his jowls, and left the room without another word.

Basenji’s ear flicked, listening for the soft pitter-patter of Shiba’s paws as he walked away. Once he was sure he was alone, he climbed back into the chair with a sigh. “I am not suited to this sort of confrontation,” he muttered.


* * *


As a pup, Basenji’s mother would often take him on shopping trips to Zanzebra, the city nearest to the pack’s burrow. She’d died when he was very young, but the little things – like those shopping trips, or the way she would scratch behind his ears to help him sleep – were the things he remembered most.

She loved shopping, and it was from accompanying her on her trips that he learned Equish – or as it was better known in most parts of the world, the trader’s tongue. The traders from the pony lands always had such interesting things.

One day, he was with his mother, poking around and touching things on tables with signs that clearly read ‘Do Not Touch’ while pretending he couldn’t read what they said. As he rifled through the wares on display, he found a curious thing. It was a small, rectangular box made of two glass panes held in place by a wooden frame, creating a chamber between the two panes. It was like a small aquarium for very skinny fish, but instead of water and fish, it was filled with dirt and ants that skittered about inside, digging tunnels and caring for their nest.

The merchant, an older pegasus stallion with a smile filled with more kindness than teeth, had noticed him and explained that it was an ‘ant farm’. The panes of glass allowed the owner to watch as the ants went about their business – something that would be impossible in the wild without digging out the ants’ home.

The memory had stuck with him since that day because it reminded him so much of the way diamond dogs built their own homes. Burrows were often compared to mines, and that was a fairly accurate comparison, considering most tunnels were initially dug in search of gems. Gems were the major staple of a diamond dog’s diet. Technically, dogs were omnivorous, but for the sake of simplicity they were considered geovores, since most other omnivores failed to live up to title by virtue of their inability to crack precious stones without cracking their precious teeth.

Like the ants, dogs dug their burrows deep into the earth, creating long tunnels and small chambers that served specific purposes. A well made burrow was a beautiful mixture of form and function, of simplicity and complexity. There were exploratory tunnels that existed only for excavating for food, drainage tunnels that led directly to the water table and prevented flooding in the rest of the burrow, and the residential dens where they made their homes. A large pack could easily dig out kilometers of tunnels in every direction, so far and so deep that the creatures above would have no idea what lay beneath their various feet, paws, or hooves. 

Basenji’s pack was considered the largest on the continent, and their burrow was a reflection of that. Some dogs lived far enough away from the surface that they never bothered going topside unless it was necessary. Such a dog might go his entire puphood before he’d see the sun for the first time.

Luckily, Basenji’s family was among the oldest in the pack, tracing itself back twelve generations, so the tunnels leading to his family’s dens were close to the surface. His many-times-removed great-grandmother had been one of the dogs helping to dig the very first tunnel, and over the generations his family had stayed in that same general area.

A set of ancient, worn stone steps took him from the tunnels to the surface, and Basenji held a paw over his face to block out the harsh mid-morning sun until his eyes could adjust. He hummed thoughtfully as he processed that thought. He could have sworn that it was mid-morning when he settled in to begin studying.

He yawned, and the mystery was solved. Still, there was business to attend to. He could sleep later.

A stiff breeze kicked up, billowing the forest-green cloak he wore fastened around his neck. Most diamond dogs wore simple vests, if they wore anything, but drummers wore long traveling cloaks as a symbol of their station. The cloak signified their readiness to travel at a moment’s notice to spread their knowledge of the Ways to other packs. Nodog was sure who had founded the practice, but it was something that held to this day. Some dogs took it far too seriously, but Basenji always just thought it was more tradition than religion, and more uniform than vestment.

Basenji shrugged his shoulders, adjusting the cloak back into place, and patted the satchel and his drum where they hung from his side.

The pack’s burrow extended far to the southern savannahs, in the direction of Zanzebra, and to the north right up to a cliff overlooking a valley that stretched off into the verdant rainforest in the distance. Basenji’s den was on the northern side of things, and the surface tunnel he most frequently used put him within walking distance of the cliff overlooking the valley.

As he neared the cliffs he noticed two dogs he had been expecting to see, and a third he hadn’t. One of the expected dogs was standing at the edge of the cliff, as he did every day, staring off into the distance, unmoving as a statue. The other two were a short distance away, taking shelter under the boughs of an acacia tree.

Basenji moved quietly, mimicking the movements of the big cats that roamed the savannahs just before they struck down their prey. He was close enough to hear whispers, but not enough for details. Whatever they were talking about, it was apparently a very intimate conversation.

There was only one thing to do when stumbling upon a pair of lovers in a moment of intimacy.

Basenji gathered his power, lifted a paw, and brought it down on his drum. The thump was loud as a cannon blast and solid enough to shake the grass as the shockwave rolled away from him.

The two lovers leapt up, startled, their limbs tangling together as they scrambled to separate. The commotion knocked a long spear with a steel head from its resting place against the tree. The wooden haft clanked loudly against a rock, startling the dogs a second time.

“Well now,” Basenji drawled out, his lips pulled into a grin, “what do we have here? Surely this isn’t my little cousin Djembe, canoodling with an on-duty sentry.”

As soon as Djembe heard Basenji’s voice, she found her footing and wheeled around to face him, her face scrunched up in anger and red with embarrassment. She hastily adjusted her golden-yellow cloak, which in the struggle to separate from her paramour had somehow ended up on her front, covering her like an apron.

“So what of it?” she barked. “I’m of marrying age! I can… can… canoodle with whomever I want to!”

Basenji sniggered. Djembe was his little cousin, and other than himself and Dingo, she had been the only one in the family to show any talent toward drumming. She was not strong in the Ways, but she had a good head for studying, a beautiful singing voice, and a passion for playing. She’d never be able to create powerful workings, but she’d know as many of their songs as any drummer. She’d shown her talent for the art later than most, and despite her being, as she called it “of marrying age,” she was still just an apprentice. With Saluki gone, Basenji had become her master in his stead. She wasn’t yet allowed to carry her drum in public, but that day wasn’t far off at all.

She was also quite skilled with a sewing needle. His original cloak had been lost during the unpleasantness of the airship crash six months ago, and she’d made him a replacement that was better than the one he’d lost.

Of all Basenji’s cousins, Djembe was likely his favorite. She’d been born right around the time he was old enough to get his first taste of an adult’s responsibility, and a bit of that had translated into a sense of protectiveness for the girl. Her face still had much of the little pup he’d doted on, but she carried herself with an eagerness to prove her worth. He was beginning to see her as an adult by measures, and it struck him that watching her grow up had helped him grow a bit as well. There was a symmetry to that thought that was beautiful, and it was enough to make him want to write a new song whenever it crossed his mind.

“We weren’t doing anything improper!” her sentry lover professed nervously. “I swear it, Talker Basenji!”

Basenji almost began laughing anew at the frightened expression on the enormous dog. He was large enough that he could have held Basenji down with one paw, but he was practically shivering in his steel breastplate. His ears were pinned back in contrition, and his stubby tail was tucked up under his legs.

Chaga was a good dog, just a few years older than Djembe. His grandfather had belonged to a pack from somewhere overseas and his family still had short, club-like tails, which were common in packs outside of zebra lands. Those stubby tails were an outward reminder of that heritage, and it set his family apart from the rest of the pack with their long, whippy tails.

Chaga worked hard, and he always spoke to Basenji, Dingo, and his father respectfully, addressing them by the title of ‘Talker’ – as in, ‘One Who Talks to the Old Dogs’. It was a fairly outmoded title, and nodog used it anymore, but the fact that Chaga both knew it and actively used it was endearing.

“Ease, ease,” Basenji said as he raised a paw. Djembe and Chaga relaxed from their disparate states of tension. “It’s not like there’s anydog in the pack that doesn’t know about you two.”

The pair blushed, turning their heads away and looking at anything except one another. They’d probably thought themselves very sneaky, and to hear otherwise likely stung their youthful egos.

Basenji just ambled over to the tree, to where the branches would keep the heat of the sun off his back. It was winter, but that meant very little in this part of the world. He sat down on the soft, dry grass, and cast a longing glance towards the edge of the cliff, where his brother sat staring off into the distance with eerie stillness.

“How is he today?” Basenji asked.

The two younger dogs took the cue to sit and joined him under the tree. Chaga picked his spear up off the ground and pretended to polish the haft with a rag he’d hung from a branch.

“Same as every day,” Djembe – Dingo’s self-appointed caretaker – answered sadly. “He gets up, he forages for a meal, he comes up here, he stares at nothing, he goes back for another meal, and he goes to bed.”

Basenji grunted in acknowledgment. It was difficult to see his brother like that. Dingo had once been everything Basenji had strived to be, but after what happened to him in desert, he was a shadow of the dog he once was. Whether it was because of his possession by Great Anubis, or the events leading up to it, something had broken in Dingo, and been replaced by some unfathomably heavy burden. You could see it in his eyes. His eyes had always been sharp, filled with a kindness and intelligence, but now… There was something there, something still intelligent, but so sorrowful. When Dingo looked at you, you felt as though he was looking through you, to the very heart of your being.

The rest of the pack gave him a wide berth, and none would meet his unsettling gaze. They were happy to have him home, because he had been much beloved before his madness, but that didn’t mean that they weren’t disturbed by the change in him.

Even still, he never made a burden of himself. Dingo foraged for himself, saw to his own needs, and bothered nodog. For the most part, he seemed content to exist in his own little world – a stranger living amongst his own pack.

They sat in silence for a while. Chaga continued polishing his spear, while Basenji and Djembe stared at Dingo as Dingo stared at nothing.

“I’m going to be going to Zanzebra today,” Basenji said to Djembe. “Do you want me to get you some of that caramel candy that you like?”

Djembe made an annoyed little growl at the back of her throat. “I’m not a pup that needs sweeties every time you go to town.”

“Right, I’ll get two boxes,” Basenji said with a nod.

Djembe made the sound again, but didn’t decline the offer of sweets. Chaga laughed, and then almost choked on that laughter at the reproachful look from Djembe.

“What are you going to Zanzebra for?” she asked.

“I need to speak with the postmaster,” Basenji clarified, stifling another yawn. “All the pack’s mail is routed through the Zanzebra office, and I want them to hold my correspondence there, rather than sending it along with the rest of the pack’s.”

Djembe frowned, tilting her head in confusion. “Why would you do that? That means you’ll have to go all the way to town just to get your mail. That’s an hour-and-a-half each way.”

“It’s inconvenient, yes,” Basenji admitted, “but no one in Zanzebra is likely to open my mail.”

Djembe tilted her head the other way, her frown and her confusion deepening.

Basenji chuckled at the way her ears flopped back when she was confused. That was one of those little things that he hoped she never grew out of – It was just too cute.

“Shiba came by my den earlier,” Basenji said. “He had a letter from my father, and it was already open when he brought it to me.”

Chaga’s head snapped around to look at Basenji. “Alpha Shiba is opening your mail?”

“I know he dislikes you, but he’s taking this too far!” Djembe growled. “And Siti, that sneaky mutt… She's had her eye on Shiba for months, but she should know better than to allow him to snoop around in another dog’s business. I have half a mind to… to…”

“It’s fine,” Basenji said, scratching behind her ears. “He did it to try and tweak my nose. The more I let it bother me, the happier he is, so I choose not to be bothered by it anymore. He pushes my buttons but he won’t ever make a serious move against me. Shiba can go and chew his balls for all I care.”

The two younger dogs sniggered at the off-color comment like a couple of children.

“Why does he dislike you so much?” Chaga asked.

Basenji dipped his head in the direction of the cliff where Dingo sat. “Shiba’s was amongst the loudest voices that wanted my brother to be left out to dry when he disappeared,” he explained. “His sense of self-importance is enough that he believes that my motivation for continuing the search was purely to contradict his expressed wishes.”

“Plus, they’ve been at one another’s throats since they were still at the teat,” Djembe added.

“That too,” Basenji said, rolling his eyes. “We were at peace for a long time, but my perceived defiance of him seems to have broken that. He’s also quite angry that I extended the gift of sisterhood to my unicorn friend, Twilight Sparkle.”

Chaga scratched at his head. “Is that not in your right as a Talker?”

“It is, but Shiba doesn’t have a very high opinion of ponies, for some reason.” Basenji sighed and rested his paw atop his drum. “Plus… he told me once that a dog that doesn’t wear a collar shouldn’t have the right to gift such an honor.”

Chaga’s paw went up to his neck and touched his own collar. The length of black leather, made from lizard skin, was studded with little metal spikes. A small, round tag hung from the collar, right over his throat, and clinked as he brushed it with his claw. He looked down at the two dogs sitting next to him, and to where Dingo sat a bit away from them. All three were drummers, and not a one of them was collared.

“I never occurred to me to ask, but why don’t you wear collars like other dogs?” he asked.

Djembe shot Basenji an eager look, her eyes sparkling with youthful eagerness as her tail thumped against the tree in excitement. Basenji smiled and tilted his head, allowing his apprentice to answer the question.

Djembe cleared her throat, closed her eyes, and held a paw to her chest as she answered. “Drummers do not wear collars like other dogs because collars and tags are a symbol of one’s undying loyalty to the pack. Although we drummers are the guides and advisors to our packs, we must never forget that our skills and knowledge belong to all dogs. We exist within the pack, but also outside it, and must be ready to go where we are needed, even if where we are needed is somewhere other than with our own pack.” She opened her eyes and looked up at Basenji with a proud grin. “Right?”

Basenji laughed as he reached into his satchel and pulled out a large sapphire. He held the tasty stone out and waited for her to take it. “Very well spoken.” He stood and shook his cloak free of dust. “Now, it’s a long walk and I still need to say goodbye to Dingo. I may be home late, but if I return home early enough I will see you later tonight, little cousin. Don’t forget to practice the song I taught you last night.”

Djembe quietly crunched half of her treat, holding the remaining half between two of her digits. She waved the bit of sapphire at him pointedly. “That was two nights ago and I’ve already mastered it.”

“Was it?” Basenji asked, scratching thoughtfully at his neck. “Well, then go to my den and get the songbook with the orange cover off my shelf. Practice the song that goes from page one-thirty-four to one-thirty-seven.”

“You got it!”

Basenji turned to walk away, casting a quick glance over his shoulder to see Djembe and Chaga already in their own little world again. She held out the other half of sapphire and opened her mouth with an “Aaahhhhh,” coaxing the guard dog to do the same, and fed it to him.

Basenji left them to their flirtations, shaking his head and chuckling as he went. He had never had much time for relationships, but he knew a few things, and he was glad that his younger cousin was making the time to experience life outside of her studies. There was much to learn, and young drummers sometimes lost sight of the important things in their eagerness to hone their skills. It was a trap that he himself had fallen into, and it did his heart good to see Djembe being watchful of it.

He went to the edge of the cliff and sat beside his brother. Dingo said nothing, but one of his ears twitched as Basenji settled onto the grass next to him.

Dingo had never been a muscular dog. It was a hazard of their station, that their paws were more accustomed to gently coaxing music from a drum than roughly digging through solid granite. He’d lost a lot of weight since their return from the city of the Old Dogs, making him almost sickly-thin for one of their kind, and his tawny-colored coat had dulled and filled with snow-white hairs.

Basenji sat with him for a moment or two, letting the silence be their greeting. He shielded his eyes with his paw again as he checked the position of the sun in relation to a few landmarks in the distance.

“Hasn’t moved, then?” Basenji asked.

Dingo said nothing. His ear twitched again.

Basenji frowned. Djembe hadn’t seemed to notice, distracted as she was, but there was one thing about Dingo’s daily routine that changed periodically. Dingo had slowly been turning, shifting the direction he was staring, as though he was tracking something very, very far away. Most dogs wouldn’t notice something small like that, not spread out over months, and not in a dog that most considered unhinged. But Basenji was sharper than most dogs.

“I wish you would speak to me,” he said sadly, “that you would tell me what it is you’re seeing that I can’t.”

Dingo’s ear twitched.

A rough grumble and a soft, musical titter floated on the wind from behind them. The pair of brothers ignored it.

“It’s a very strange thing,” Basenji sighed as he stared off in the same general direction as Dingo. He squinted, as though that might help him perceive whatever it was that Dingo was seeing. “I never imagined that I could miss you so much with you sitting right next to me. We’re close enough to touch, but you’re still so far away…”

Basenji suddenly felt a thin arm wrap around his shoulders with wiry strength, pulling him against Dingo’s side. Dingo’s gaze was still fixed straight ahead on whatever he was watching, but a sad, world-weary smile was on the older dog’s face as he hugged his little brother.

Dingo’s ear twitched.

Basenji laughed, blinking away the moisture gathering at the corners of his eyes. “Yes…” he said. “Yes… I suppose you probably miss me from where you are, too.”


* * *


The city of Zanzebra was a bustling hub of commerce for the region. It sat at the intersection of several different roads, and the skies surrounding the city were filled with natural air magic that caused a dozen or more jetstreams to brush against one another. Paths on the land and in the sky brought travelers together from all over the continent, carrying stories and wares from every corner of the globe.

Basenji walked down the unpaved roads, keeping a close eye on his satchel and drum as he went. The locals of Zanzebra were friendly, but you never knew what sort of riff-raff had drifted in on the winds. Pickpockets were an infrequent but present threat to the purse of anyone who wasn’t paying careful attention.

He’d already seen to the issue with the post office, and rented a small lockbox in the office where his mail would be stored to pick up at his convenience. If he had correspondence, a notice would be sent to him to come and retrieve it in person, and the small key strapped to a loop on the inside of his satchel with a bit of twine would open the box.

Basenji reached into his satchel and pulled out a small bit of hard candy. He popped the whole thing in his mouth without unwrapping it. It tasted of watermelon, and the wrapper was some sort of rice-paper that dissolved in his mouth.

The sweet shop was one of Basenji’s favorite places in Zanzebra. It was one of those out-in-the-open secrets in their family that he was fonder of sugary treats than was probably good for him. But more than the candy, he enjoyed the smiles of the children as they ran about the store peeking into every bin and asking constant questions about the sweets as they tried to convert their allowances into as much sugar as possible. Sometimes children would stand in front of a display, looking sad in the hopes that someone would offer to buy a treat for them. That always made him laugh, and today he’d bought one of the beggars – a young zebra girl – a jawbreaker the size of her hoof.

In addition to his little hard candies and the caramel for Djembe, he’d bought a few boxes of cocoa mix to share with Dingo. The shop always had a fresh supply of it around this time of year, coinciding with some sort of holiday the Equestrian ponies celebrated. The little pegasus girl working the register was new, and had asked him if he was sure that was what he wanted, pointing out the fact that cocoa was basically chocolate. The store’s owner – an elderly griffon that Basenji had known since he was a pup – had overheard her and laughed, explaining that diamond dogs weren’t quite the same as the small dogs that ponies kept as pets. There was some sort of chemical in chocolate that domesticated dogs could not metabolize very well, and so was toxic to them. Diamond dogs had no such frailty, and most actually quite enjoyed chocolate.

His tasks completed and his snacks secured, Basenji headed for home. He took a shortcut through the food stalls at the heart of the market, where vendors sat behind grills and in front of enchanted ice boxes peddling their wares. Basenji’s powerful sense of smell had caught the scent of the food court almost as soon as he’d entered the city, and now that he stood in the heart of it, his stomach began rumbling, demanding he stop to sample something.

Basenji scanned the stalls, unsure of what he could have that would be quick and wouldn’t disagree with the long walk home. He passed by a stand selling grilled corn, and another selling a traditional Zebrican stew. He sniffed the air carefully and plucked a scent out from among the rest. He followed it to a kebab stall run by a griffon wearing a tightly wrapped turban. A sooty kerchief was tied over his beak, protecting his lungs from the smoke of the grill he was fanning vigorously with a folded newspaper. Ponies and zebras tended to dislike the smell of cooked meat, but no one who traveled this far was the type to have an overly sensitive stomach.

Basenji rubbed his chin in thought and picked out a skewer that was mostly vegetables, with just enough meat to be filling, and paid him with a few coins from his satchel.

Just as he was walking away from the stand, something bumped into him with a grunt and a jingle of small, metallic objects. It wasn’t enough to knock him over, but it did jostle his arm, making him drop his kebab on the filthy ground.

“Oh, so sorry, so sorry!” the assailant apologized to him in Equish.

Basenji frowned at his ruined meal and looked down at the zebra that had bumped into him. He was comfortably fat, and old enough that the black stripes in his frizzy mane now matched the white ones. The metallic tinkle in the air had come from the ring of keys hanging from a chain around the stallion’s neck. A small bowl of cornmeal porridge had fallen to the ground next to the old zebra, but luckily for him most of the thick paste it had stayed in the bowl.

“Hello, Adisa,” Basenji greeted as he reached down and helped the old stallion slip his glasses back on. “Has time come again to renew your prescription?”

Adisa squinted as he adjusted his glasses, and his eyes opened with apparent recognition. “Ah, Basenji! What fate is it that has brought you to me today?”

Basenji sighed as he stooped to pick up his dusty kebab. He twirled it between his digits. “A poor one, it seems,” he commented dryly.

“Oh, very sorry,” Adisa said as he balanced his still mostly filled bowl atop his head. “But… you can still eat it, yes? You do eat rocks, don’t you?”

“Gems, more so than rocks, old stallion,” Basenji huffed. He casually tossed the dirty food item into one of the old wooden barrels that served as trash cans around the bazaar. “And we do make certain to wash them free of dirt, just as you would wash vegetables fresh from your garden. Nodog enjoys the sensation of muddy insides.”

“Fair enough,” Adisa said with a laugh. “I would say, though, that while our meeting may have been bad luck for you, it was quite fortunate for me.”

Basenji fished some coins out of his satchel and purchased another skewer. “Oh? How so?”

“Come to my shop,” the old zebra urged him, a note of excitement in his voice, “there are things I require your eyes for. I had planned to send for you later, but the stars have been kind and brought you practically to my door.”

Basenji pulled half the skewer clean in a single bite, not willing to risk anything else happening to his lunch. Adisa was a friend of the family, and when Dingo had gone missing, Adisa’s was one of the doors his family had knocked on in their search for information on his whereabouts. Basenji had not visited with the old stallion in some time, and it was no great hardship to do him a favor. It was still early in the afternoon, so there was plenty of time for the distraction and perhaps some tea.

Basenji quickly cleaned the other half of the meal and did away with the skewer. He dipped his head respectfully and gestured for Adisa to lead the way.

“As it comes to mind,” Adisa commented as he took them in the direction of his shop, “your Equish seems to have improved. You speak it with a great deal more confidence.”

“I have been studying!” Basenji replied with a grin. His tail wagged happily at the compliment.

Adisa’s shop wasn’t far from the food stalls. He moved briskly through the crowded streets, presumably eager to show off whatever he’d acquired. They stepped up to the front of the shop and Adisa took a moment to fumble with his keys to unlock the door.

Adisa has been doing business as a dealer of curios and antiques in Zanzebra since Saluki was a pup, and it showed in the dense clutter of the shop. The place was equal parts showroom and warehouse, easily twice the size of the surrounding buildings, and not an inch of space was wasted. Tribal masks from every village in the Zebra Nation hung along the walls next to cardboard cutouts for stage productions featuring famous actors, and wooden sculptures that had been carved by artisans before the mastery of bronze sat on shelves next to complicated little toys made of tin and clockwork. At first blush, the shop seemed like it was in a state of orderly disorder, but if you a stepped back and took the thing in as a whole… you realized that it actually was complete and indecipherable chaos, without rhyme or reason.

Still, the old zebra somehow managed to know where every single item in his shop was without even looking. Perhaps it was some inborn sense of mastery over his domain that gave him his preternatural awareness of everything in his shop, perhaps it was a powerful memory, or maybe it was owed to years of experience in his line of business – whatever it was, his internal catalog of his shop was very impressive.

Adisa shut the front door behind them and kept the sign in the window flipped to Closed, presumably to give them some privacy.

“Normally I would ask Saluki or Dingo for this sort of thing,” Adisa said as he wound his way through the cramped shop, avoiding the delicate displays with far more agility than he had shown in the bazaar when he’d bumped into Basenji, “but, well… neither of them is very available, eh?”

“Your faith in my skills warms my heart, Old Adisa,” Basenji grumbled as he tried to replicate Adisa’s feat of agility. He made a poor showing of it, as he was at least twice the size of the stallion and nowhere near as familiar with the layout of the shop.

“Hush, pup,” Adisa chastised him. He settled his bowl on the counter next to the old cash register and lapped up some of his porridge without bothering with a utensil. “You know what I mean. I wouldn’t have considered you if I didn’t know you to be a dog of learning.”

The strap of Basenji’s satchel hooked onto the handle of an old wicker basket that was being used as a stand to display an assortment of walking-sticks. The canes began to teeter, clacking together loudly as Basenji’s reached out in a panic and frantically tried to keep the display upright. A few seconds of floundering and he was able to keep anything from falling over. He stood frozen, his arms wrapped around the walking-sticks and his eyes wide. He slowly released his grip on the bundle and backed away cautiously.

Adisa quirked an eyebrow as he licked a dollop of porridge from the end of his snout.

Basenji smiled sheepishly, feeling the heat of his embarrassment in his face. “So what is it you wanted to show me?”

Adisa slowly lowered his eyebrow and clucked his tongue a few times before disappearing beneath the counter. “I had a customer come in with some odd acquisitions,” he said over the sound of wooden boxes being shoved around. He appeared a moment later with his forehead pressed against a large wooden crate, pushing it around the counter. “Minotaur, he was. Treasure hunter, I think, but smarter than your average grave robber.”

Basenji helped Adisa by pulling the box the rest of the way. He held up his paw, flexing his claws pointedly, and nodded towards the box. “May I?”

“Thank you, and be free,” Adisa said, standing upright and cracking his spine with the kind of loud pops that only came from very old bones.

Adisa had secured the lid with only a few nails. It wasn’t enough to keep the contents safe during shipping, but it was enough to keep it on tight if you set something atop it. Basenji easily pried it free and set it aside. He brushed aside the dried straw used as packing material and blinked at what he found.

The objects didn’t seem like much at first glance. They were small trinkets and statuettes, some made of wood, some stone, others carved from gems. There were even a few made of some kind of brittle-looking yellow material that could only have been bone. None of them were much bigger than his paws curled up into fists. He carefully picked up one of the smaller pieces, holding it gingerly as he examined it. It was a small diamond dog, sitting down, a drum held in the space between his crossed legs. He reached into the crate and brushed aside the straw, revealing more figures and shards of broken earthenware.

“Are they genuine?” Adisa asked. “I know your kind well enough to recognize your craft, but I’ve never seen this sort of imagery before.”

“These are…” Basenji blinked again, as he uncovered another layer, revealing a small emblem made from bone. It was a depiction of a dog’s head made with viciously angular features and tall, pointed ears that sat high on the head.

It was the symbol of the First Dog, of Great Anubis, the Jackal.

The last time he’d seen items such as these, they’d been inside of a burial house in the city of the Old Dogs. The team of scholars and archaeologists that his father had joined with were no doubt pulling similar objects out of the city by the cartload. Every item pulled from the site would be documented and studied before being returned to the tombs. Very few of the precious relics were meant to stay above ground, and they were all already claimed by the various museums and universities that were funding the dig.

And some minotaur treasure hunter had wandered into a shop in Zanzebra with an entire crate of them.

Basenji took a deep breath and set the objects down. “They are real… and that concerns me.”

Adisa tilted his head curiously. “Oh? Why would that concern you?”

“Because I have seen this sort of imagery before,” Basenji said with a shake of his head. “They are funerary objects. Used in traditions so old that even drummers had forgotten them.”

Adisa’s vision may have gone bad, but they were still shone with the razor-sharp intellect behind them. There was very little that got by him, and it only took a moment before he began putting things together.

“That place they say you found in the desert?” Adisa asked. “These came from that ancient burrow that has every curio dealer from here to Manehattan salivating? The one that Saluki went off to poke around in?”

“It would seem so,” Basenji said with a nod.

“Stolen then,” Adisa growled in a tone that indicated that he probably would have spit in distaste if he weren’t standing in his own shop. “Perhaps I was too quick to accuse him of intelligence. He is not a very clever smuggler if he didn’t even bother taking his wares out of the country. What’s more, he didn’t even get a good price for them.”

“What did he tell you about where he made this acquisition?” Basenji asked as he dug through the box.

“Bah, he had some tale about finding them in the jungle lands overseas,” Adisa said. “San Mulelito, or maybe Cartaneighna…”

Basenji frowned. Something about the situation didn’t feel right. These were almost certainly objects crafted in the tradition of the Old Dogs. But if they were from the city of Old Dogs, then it didn’t make sense for them to be here. The dig site was crawling with security and scholars of the highest caliber. The academics that had been chosen for the dig team were the sort that wouldn’t ever dream of risking their careers by stealing relics. Especially not to sell them to a smuggler who would let them go cheaply to someone like Adisa. The old zebra was well-known in the antiques community, but he wasn’t the black market sort that could, or even would, spin illicit goods into piles of gold.

The other option – which was just as unlikely – was that this treasure hunter was on the level.

“We should report this to the authorities,” Adisa sighed. “Shame, though. I could have made quite a profit here, but I won’t deal in stolen goods. I believe he may still be in town, so I should at least be able to recover what I paid to him if he hasn’t already poured it all into his liver.”

Basenji leaned against the crate, tapping his claw softly against the side as he considered what options they had.

“Perhaps hold off on this thing,” he advised. “There may yet be chance to save your profit. You say he is still in town, yes? I should speak with him first, find what he knows.”

“Are you certain? If he is a smuggler – and a stupid one at that – he may not be above attempting to harm you if he believes you suspect him of wrongdoing.”

“Then I shall be mindful of this,” Basenji said with even a hint of hesitation. “Regardless of the dangers, I have my duty to my people, and must see to this myself.”

Adisa turned his head owlishly, staring at Basenji as though he were looking at a new acquisition that had suddenly appeared in his shop. “You’ve changed, pup. Grown, I think – perhaps grown stupid, but grown.” The old zebra squinted through his thick spectacles and waved a hoof over his face. “The eyes are where it shows. You’ve seen things since we last met, my young friend.”

Basenji lowered his gaze to the emblem bearing Great Anubis’ visage. The truth of what had happened beneath the desert sands was known to very few, even amongst the pack. Shiba knew, as did Saluki, but the songs that Basenji had written about that dreadful day would never be played for the rest of the pack. Even Djembe was not yet ready to learn those songs.

Basenji lifted a paw and flexed the digits, grasping at the air as he examined them. They were a bit dusty, and stained with little black splotches of ink from the many hours he sat in his den, working on songs and trying to solve the mysteries of the writing they’d found on the ancient weapon Dingo had carried out of the city. It was faint, but his sense of smell caught traces of the oils he used to keep the skin of his drum supple, and to preserve the wood.

But only six months ago his paws had been stained red, covered in his own blood, and Twilight’s, and that of the dogs that had willing laid down to die in the courtyard outside Great Anubis’ temple. It hadn’t occurred to him until later, but many of those dogs had likely been drummers like himself and Dingo, if the tattered remains of their travelling cloaks were any indication. They were dogs sensitive to the Ways, vulnerable to whatever had lured them to their fates, and perhaps it was only luck that had spared Basenji and Saluki and other drummers from sharing that vulnerability. The Saddle Arabians that had escorted him home had given him a place to bathe, and he’d cried as he watched the rose-tinted water drain away in the shower.

Were his eyes really that different? Had they’d taken on some small measure of the unsettling depth that Dingo’s had? It made sense if they had. One does not experience such things without coming away changed. What those changes were and how they would affect him moving forward, there was no telling.

“As you say…”

And he left it at that.


* * *


Airships were a common thing in Zanzebra. A small landing field for the things was situated at the edge of town, and a variety of shops had sprung up surrounding it that catered to the needs of travelers. Restaurants, fuel depots, mechanics, and other services made it a popular stop. That popularity also meant that storing your vessel on the field came with some rather heavy fees. Anyone wishing to have their ship moored in one of the airfield’s storage areas had to pay a rental fee, which was unavoidable if your ship needed repairs.

Still, some travelers decided to forego the security and convenience of the airfield and park in the savannah. There was no law against this, but the fact that the grasslands were home to a number of creatures that would gladly make a meal of unsuspecting travelers meant that most just paid the parking fees.

Basenji pushed his way through the grass as he approached the airship of the minotaur who had sold Adisa the possibly stolen goods. He sniffed the air and swiveled his ears, cautiously scanning his surroundings for venomous snakes or ambush predators. Such creatures tended to avoid roads, but this minotaur, whoever he was, had chosen to moor his ship in a clearing that wasn’t readily accessible by roads.

The minotaur’s ship was fairly large, somewhere between a passenger ship and a cargo ship in size. It was unpainted, but the wooden boat gleamed with some sort of protective shellac. The balloon floated and bobbed above it, straining against the mooring lines that held it to the ground, and the plain beige canvas was also treated with some sort of coating that made it reflect light with an almost metallic sheen.

A camp was set up outside the ship. A large canopy tent shielded a few tables on which large pieces of oily machinery sat. The minotaur was there, humming to himself as he held some tools and fiddled with the mechanisms of one of the machines.

Basenji hunched down and watched from a distance as the minotaur tinkered around. After a few minutes, he frowned as he realized he wasn’t sure what he was watching for. It wasn’t as if the minotaur would suddenly throw back his head and begin dancing about, singing a song about how wonderful it was to live the life of a smuggler.

That would have been too easy.

There was nothing for it but to do it, so he stood from the grass and made a point of making some noise to signal his approach. The minotaur looked up from his work as he finally sensed Basenji’s approach. The minotaur had been wearing a pair of complicated looking goggles that magnified his eyes into enormous discs. He reached up to fiddle with a knob on the side of the apparatus, which caused the glasses to click mechanically as little arms swiveled around and swapped out the lenses.

Basenji stepped into the clearing and sat on his haunches as he lifted one paw in greeting. “Greetings!” he shouted across the field. He knew a bit of the minotaur language, but he decided to try Equish first. “I am Basenji! May we speak?”

The minotaur stood silently for a moment, as though considering the answer, before dipping his head in a polite little nod and waving his guest closer. “My name is Laughing Bison!” he replied. “Please, join me!”

Basenji approached, and the minotaur stepped out from behind the tables to meet him at the edge of the camp.

Laughing Bison was average size for a minotaur, though maybe a little broader in the shoulders than most of his kind, with a dark blue fur that was noticeably mottled with brown hairs. He wore a long, open coat that must have once been white, but had been irreversibly stained with dirt and grease.

The minotaur lifted his goggles, letting them rest against his forehead, and cleaned up with an oily rag. “Not to be rude,” Laughing Bison began, “but I am very busy, so how can I help you?”

“Ah, yes, I will try not to take much of your time,” Basenji said. “I am a friend of old Adisa, and it was he who told me where I could find you.”

“Ah, the antique dealer sent you?”

“No, I am here out of my own curiosity,” Basenji clarified. “Adisa asked for my opinion on a number of artifacts that came into his possession. I wished to ask you some questions about those pieces.”

Laughing Bison scratched at the spot where the goggle strap crossed over his temple. “Hm, I suppose you would be the proper dog to consult on appraising diamond dog artifacts.” He gestured towards the drum hanging at Basenji’s side.

Basenji’s eyebrows raised slightly. “You know of my profession?”

“I know a bit about dogs,” Laughing Bison answered with a shrug. “I met a drummer once in Baahram. Not many of your kind – drummers, that is – outside of the Zebrican continent.”

“As you say,” Basenji said with a dip of his head.

Laughing Bison turned and went to a small unlit fire pit that had been dug a short distance from the tent, and took a seat on a folding camping chair. He reached into a dented metallic ice chest next to the chair and produced a bottle of cloudy yellow liquid. He gave the bottle a hard shake, twisted off the cap, and took a long sip. “So what do you want to know?”

Basenji took a seat at the opposite end of the fire pit, noting that the minotaur hadn’t offered him any of what he was drinking. The faint scent of citrus and sugar told him it was some sort of lemonade. “I was wondering where you obtained these pieces. What can you tell of where they were found?”

“I found them outside of Cartaneighna,” Laughing Bison said as he took another long pull from the bottle. “The weather patrol there doesn’t go very far outside the city, so there were some pretty heavy wild rains out there towards the end of last summer. Sinkhole opened up a few miles outside of town and some of the locals said they’d seen some bits of pottery and such at the bottom of the pit. I figured it was worth a look-see. Near as I can tell the sinkhole was just an old diamond dog burrow that finally gave out. You guys make some impressive earthworks, but nothing lasts forever.”

Basenji smoothed the hairs under his chin thoughtfully. Laughing Bison was rather relaxed, and there wasn’t anything in his posture or voice so far that made Basenji think he was lying.

“Was there anything else odd in this place you found?” Basenji asked.

Laughing Bison paused mid-drink and slowly lowered the bottle. One corner of his mouth turned down into a thoughtful half-frown. “Yeah… Yeah there was. There were bones scattered around. They’d been crushed by the collapse, but they were clearly diamond dog bones. They’d been mummified and wrapped, I think. It struck me as curious, because from what I know your people traditionally practice cremation. I’d just assumed that it was something they’d picked up from the local tribes. Mulemecs were still practicing ritual mummification in that area until just a few hundred years ago.”

Basenji raised an eyebrow. “You are quite knowledgeable for a treasure hunter,” he said.

A flash of anger crossed the minotaur’s features, but it was gone almost immediately. He sighed and drained what was left of his drink in a single pull.

“I’m no treasure hunter,” Laughing Bison corrected as he tossed bottle into a wooden crate filled with other empties. “I’m a scholar. I have a doctorate in history from the University of Minos.”

The University of Minos was a well-respected institution, and was among the several educational bodies that was funding the excavation his father was at. If he had connections to that place, then it would certainly give him contacts that could assist in removing objects from site.

But Laughing Bison’s body language still wasn’t telegraphing anything that bespoke of criminality, and if he did have connections with the university through which he was embezzling the artifacts, it would be foolish to reveal them so easily. Basenji decided that if he was going to get anywhere, he would have to try a more direct line of questioning.

“I know of this school,” he said. “My father, Saluki, is working with scholars from that place. Surely you know of the excavation of the ancient city to the north of here.”

Laughing Bison showed surprisingly little reaction. He merely nodded and sighed. “I know it. I would’ve liked to have looked around a bit, but they wouldn’t let me within a mile of the place. I burned a lot of bridges when I quit teaching there. I’m persona non grata at anything the university is involved in.”

Basenji blinked. “Truly?”

“Yup.” Laughing Bison reached into the cooler and pulled out another bottle. He twisted the cap off and paused. He held up the bottle and shook it gently. “Want one?”

“Oh, um, please,” Basenji said as he reached his long arms across the fire pit to take the bottle. The bottle was cool and damp with condensation. It felt good in his paws. “So you have never been to the dig, then?”

“Nope,” Laughing Bison said as he got another bottle for himself. “It’s just as well. I don’t mean offense, here, but interesting as diamond dog culture is, it’s not really the focus of my current research. That’s why I didn’t mind unloading the stuff I pulled out of that sinkhole. I don’t get funding from the university anymore, so I have to make money where I can.”

Basenji sighed and decided to just lay his cards on the table. “If I may be candid,” he began cautiously, “and please do not take this harshly, I came here because I thought you to perhaps be a thief.”

Laughing Bison’s face settled into a neutral mask as he leaned back in his chair, the canvas squeaking loudly as it rubbed against the wooden frame. If he had taken offense at the presumption, he hid it well. “Alright,” he said, his voice tightly restrained. “I’ll bite. Why?”

“Because the artifacts you found are ancient, more so than you may have suspected,” Basenji said. “I have seen the like of them only in one place before.”

Laughing Bison’s eyes shone with recognition. “You’re talking about that ancient city to the north? The one we were just talking about?”

Basenji nodded. “Have you not kept up with the scholarly publications on the excavation? It is my understanding that the project has been greatly publicized.”

“I’ve been in the field that last few months,” Laughing Bison said with a shrug. “I read one of the first articles about the place but nothing since then. It was just some puff piece about one of the Equestrian princesses getting credit for the discovery, and some publicity for the universities and museums providing funding.”

“Then you have not heard that it has been officially named the Necropolis,” Basenji said.

The minotaur sat up and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his legs. “A City of the Dead?”

“A city where the Old Dogs were entombed after death,” Basenji answered gravely. “Thousands of homes, filled with the remains of dogs and the possessions they were interred with.”

“Well,” Laughing Bison said as he slowly nodded his head up and down. “Well, well, well… That’s interesting.”

“Very,” Basenji said in agreement. “This burrow you found, how large was it?”

Laughing Bison took a drink and pursed his lips. “Not very. A few small chambers, and not many tunnels. I dug around, but I couldn’t find much else – though, honestly, I wasn’t very thorough. I just took what I could salvage from the collapsed burrow and left.”

“That is odd… packs do not live in such small burrows, and families do not often live outside of packs.” Basenji rapped his claws against the side of his drum. “According to our songs, when the Old Dogs left the first city, they spread throughout the world. Perhaps this place you found was one of the places which they attempted to settle.”

“That makes sense,” Laughing Bison agreed. “Too bad the burrow was destroyed. I got everything that could be saved. The rest is dust, and probably worse by now, after a few months of the rain getting to it.”

“A shame,” Basenji said with a shake of his head. “Regardless, I shall send word of it to my father. It is still good knowledge, even if the site is no more. It, at the very least, tells us that the Old Dogs set paw upon the Amarezonian continent at some point in the distant past.”

Laughing Bison leaned back again, sliding down a bit and slumping in his chair as he idly tapped a one of his cloven hooves on the ground. He balanced the bottle on its edge atop the arm rest and rolled the bottle between his digits – fingers, minotaurs called them.

“So this site I found…” the minotaur began slowly, “you really think that it might date contemporarily with this Necropolis of yours?”

“So it would seem,” Basenji replied. “I have studied much of my people’s traditions, and the imagery and practices found in the Necropolis were long forgotten until its rediscovery.”

Laughing Bison tilted his bottle forward pointedly. “Seems a little coincidental, don’t you think? No one knew anything about diamond dog mummies, then suddenly two places with just that thing, on almost opposite ends of the globe, reveal themselves within a few weeks of one another?”

“It is… very much as you say…” Basenji admitted, shifting uncomfortably on the ground. “It also perhaps may be that such things have been found before, but none have recognized the significance before the Necropolis was rediscovered.”

Laughing Bison lifted his eyebrows and dipped his head in a little half-shrug. “True enough. It certainly didn’t pop out as anything special to me at the time, and I’ve got enough book-learning to know better. All the same, strange coincidence… It warrants further investigation. I think I might swing back that way, spend some time doing a serious excavation. See if I can’t uncover an intact burrow in the same area.”

“Did you not say your academic interests lay elsewhere?” Basenji asked.

“A big find is a big find,” Laughing Bison explained. “My own research is kind of at an impasse at the moment, so I’d be stupid to not pursue something that might draw some funding my way.” A wicked grin tugged at the corners of his mouth, and for just a moment there was a glimmer of pure, unspoiled amusement in his eyes. “Plus, it’d really piss off the university if I put my flag on a project that so closely paralleled something they were backing.”

Basenji chuckled. “Those burned bridges?”

“Oh yeah,” Laughing Bison laughed. “You quit the way I quit, they don’t let you come back. They don’t even let you onto the lawn.”

Basenji shook his head in amused disbelief. He took a sip of his lemonade and swished it in his mouth. He would need to have his father make some inquiries with his colleagues on the dig, but it seemed for the moment that Laughing Bison was on the level, which was good, because Basenji was starting to like him. The minotaur scholar was easy to speak to and he had very good tastes in beverages.

“If it is no great imposition on our new acquaintance,” Basenji said, “may I ask the reason for your departure from such a prestigious academy?”

“Difference of opinion,” Laughing Bison stated simply. “I thought they were idiots and they didn’t agree.”

Basenji coughed as a spasm of laughter forced lemonade to reverse its course halfway down his throat. He hacked for a few beats, slapping his chest as he tried to clear his throat.

“Seriously, though,” Laughing Bison continued, obviously pleased with the reaction, “difference of opinion. I’ve been researching something that my colleagues think is an academic snipe-hunt. I got tired of being ridiculed for it, and let them know what I thought of a bunch of close-minded simpletons who care more about their reputations than good academics.”

“This research is so greatly…” Basenji shifted his gaze upwards, rolling his head from side to side as he consulted his vocabulary for the proper word. “Controversial?”

“A bit,” the big minotaur sighed. “Most believe that minotaurs were isolationist only until about two thousand or so years ago. That, before that point of expansion, there were only two major settlements: the one in our homeland on the island of Minos, and the tribe that founded the city of Oxlo in the frozen north.”

Basenji found himself trying to drink from an empty bottle as he listened. He considered eating it, but eating glass was never a good idea. It wasn’t nearly as hard as gemstones, but had a tendency to break into little slivers and chips, which would end up stuck between his teeth for weeks like the kernel shells from the popcorn they sometimes sold at the market stalls.

Laughing Bison noticed Basenji’s empty drink and pulled another bottle from the cooler. They traded bottles and Laughing Bison tossed the empty into the crate before continuing.

“There are, however, stories of a third group of minotaurs,” Laughing Bison continued. “They’re mentioned in several old legends, and even pop up in the stories of other cultures. But they disappeared at some point in history, and tales of this third tribe are considered simple apocrypha. Admittedly, there are fantastic elements to the stories that sometimes contradict one another, but the one thing that they all agree on is this: those minotaurs had magic.”

“Is this such a tremendous thing?” Basenji asked. “We dogs have our Ways, ponies have their various magics, zebras have their mysticism and brews, and so forth.”

“Minotaurs have none of those things,” Laughing Bison said seriously. “Of all the intelligent species in our world, only minotaurs do not naturally have an abundance of magic. We make out alright, though. What we lack in magic, we make up for in natural inclination towards engineering.” He held up his hands, wiggling his fingers like graceful little eels. “A high level of manual dexterity helps, too, when you’re working with machinery. There’s not a modern convenience that wasn’t invented, or at least improved, by minotaur ingenuity.”

Basenji looked at the tables behind Laughing Bison, to the complex machines sitting beneath the tent. Some of them looked like they’d already been partly disassembled, and a number of little pieces of hardware – nuts and screws and the like – were organized in empty tins amidst the greasy mess.

“Stuff from my engines,” Laughing Bison explained as he noted where Basenji’s gaze had wandered. “Anyway, I believe that this third group of minotaurs did exist. I doubt that they actually had magic, but if they developed some sort of technology that was sufficiently advanced, it’s easy to imagine that their neighbors might assume it was some kind of magic. It’s not an easy theory to prove, though, because when I say they disappeared from history, I mean disappeared. There’s no physical trace of them anywhere, despite the fact that almost every culture with a storytelling tradition at least mentions them. It’s led to some pretty outrageous legends.”

“Legends of what sort?”

Laughing Bison chuckled. “Ridiculous things like them living in a forgotten, mystical land – the Lost Continent of Moo.”

Basenji’s brows lifted skeptically. “How does one ‘lose’ a continent?”

“You don’t,” Laughing Bison snickered. “A few of the stories say it sunk into the ocean, which is pure, concentrated hogwash of the highest quality – that just doesn’t happen. It’s silly things like that that make it an unpopular theory amongst my supposed peers, but our duty as scholars is to investigate every possibility, and to discern truth from tall-tale. That’s what I was doing in Cartaneighna. They have a great library there, so I was doing research into the local stories to see what they could tell me. Not an easy job, but someone’s got to do it.”

“A noble pursuit,” Basenji said, dipping his head to add a respectful bow to the compliment.

“Nobility does a poor job of filling your belly if it’s not the kind that comes with a crown,” Laughing Bison quipped, “but at least it lets you sleep at night.”

“True enough,” Basenji said. He looked up to the sky and found that it was quite a bit later than he’d expected. He’d spent far longer than he’d meant to examining the artifacts in Adisa’s shop. “Ah, the hour grows late. I may not be home before the sun has left us.”

Laughing Bison tapped his bottle against the armrest a few times, his features screwed up in thought. “Why don’t you stop by again tomorrow? It’s going to be a few days before I’m done working on the engines, and it’s been a damned long time since I’ve had someone interesting to talk to.”

Basenji stood and shook the dust from his cloak. “I believe I shall, Laughing Bison. Thank you for the beverage. You are certainly the most hospitable thief I have ever met.”

Laughing Bison laughed. “Laughing Bison, Gentlebull Thief. I like the ring of it.”

A flash of inspiration came to Basenji. He opened the flap on his satchel and dug around until he found a sheet of paper he’d folded into fours.

“If I might be so bold,” Basenji began as he unfolded the paper and made sure it was what he thought it was. “Might I have your learned opinion on this?”

Laughing Bison set down his drink and accepted the paper. He narrowed his eyes at the symbols written there, staring for a few moments before slowly rotating the paper as though he’d been looking at it upside-down.

“What is this?” he asked, slapping the back of his hand against the paper. “I’ve never seen writing like this.”

“Ah, I suppose it would have been much too convenient for you to have seen it before,” Basenji muttered with a sigh. “This writing was found inscribed upon a weapon found amongst the treasures of the Necropolis.”

Laughing Bison blinked, and the confusion in his eyes was replaced by something hungry. “Mysterious writing, you say?” he said in a drawl, his voice tinged with excitement. “They find any more of this in that place?”

“No,” Basenji replied with a shake of his head. “It has only been found on the one weapon.”

“And where is this weapon now?” Laughing Bison asked.

“It is in Equestria, in the possession of a mare named Twilight Sparkle. She is a great friend to my people.”

Laughing Bison frowned at the paper some more. “She a scholar?”

“No, but if you met her you might believe it so,” Basenji chuckled. “She is a Guard of Royalty, retainer to Princess Cadance.”

“Why does she have it, then?”

“She has proven herself worthy to hold it,” Basenji said simply.

Laughing Bison stared for a few long moments, as though he were unsure if Basenji was being serious or not. He shrugged and went back to examining the symbols. “Well, like I said, I’ve never seen writing like this.”

“Yes, but you are going somewhere that may yet yield more samples of such writing,” Basenji said pointedly.

“Ah, I get you now,” Laughing Bison said in recognition. “You want me to keep my eyes open while I’m poking around in Cartaneighna.”

Basenji nodded. “As you say.”

“I can do that,” Laughing Bison said. He folded the paper and waved the square. “Mind if I keep this?”

“Please do,” Basenji told him, “I know these symbols by heart. Their meaning has eluded me for months, and sometimes I think I shall never be able to think of anything else. I welcome anything you can add in collaboration.”

“I’ll do everything I can,” Laughing Bison said as he held out his hand. “It’s been nice talking to you. Hope to see you tomorrow.”

“Indeed,” Basenji said as he held out a paw. “Good day.”

They traded grips and Basenji made his way through the grass again, back in the direction of Zanzebra. He had to report to Adisa how the meeting went, and he still had to write a letter to his father inquiring about Laughing Bison’s story. He seemed very nice, but it never hurt to be cautious. All the same, he was very much hopeful that he’d just made a new friend.

He yawned as he walked, again feeling the loss of the hours of sleep he’d skipped the night before. Eager as he was to sleep, there was still work to do. He had his business in Zanzebra, and once he returned to the burrow he had to check up on Djembe’s studies.

Basenji hummed quietly to himself as he made his way across the plains, lightening his steps with a few bars of a happy traveler’s song. The day had not started so well, but it had taken a turn for the better soon enough. The day’s events may not have given him any new answers, but they had given him new questions, and those were often just as valuable.

His wandering thoughts turned to his friend back in Equestria, the unicorn warrior that he considered a sister, and thoughts of Twilight led him to thoughts of Cadance, the young princess who had so bravely stood at their side. He chuckled to himself, wondering if his friends had ever worked out whatever it was that they’d had between them. He was certain they had. Cadance did not seem the type to let things like that remain unspoken.

“I hope things are going well for you, my friends,” he said to the air, in the hopes that his words would carry on the wind.


* * *


> Chapter 9 - Birthenfreude
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

It had been two months since Twilight had proposed. Publically, very little had changed for them in that time as far as their daily routines went. They’d decided to hold off on announcing their engagement, which meant that Cadance had been a bundle of nervous energy the whole time.

The blushing bride had gotten her hooves on copies of every bridal magazine published in the last year, telling the royal scribes and aides that she needed them for a research project – the ‘project’ being a scrapbook filled with ideas of things she wanted for their wedding. In the interests of keeping their surprise, that scrapbook had more enchantments and magical pass codes than the Starswirl the Bearded Wing of the Royal Archives, and there was no danger of the secret being let out early.

But the need for secrecy would be ending very soon.

Twilight lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling in a half-asleep daze. The curtains leading to the balcony were pulled open just a crack, letting in enough sunlight to throw back the darkness that she usually awoke to. She looked to the clock on her nightstand, blinking away the fuzziness in her vision until she could focus on the time. It was closer to lunch than breakfast, and the tightness in her stomach verified the clock’s report.

She settled back into her pillow with a soft yawn. Despite her hunger pangs, she was in no hurry to get up. She opened the balcony doors with her magic to let in some fresh air, and the warm spring breeze billowed the curtains. The sounds of birdsong filtered in from the gardens, mixing disharmoniously with the low, nasally whistle of Cadance’s snoring.

The heavy quilted comforter they’d used all winter had been replaced with a thin silk sheet that was much cooler. Cadance had still managed to kick her half off in the middle of the night. The alicorn princess was hugging a pillow to her chest like she was afraid it would escape, and her head was lying directly on the mattress. She was drooling again, and the dark puddle had soaked the sheets around her face.

Cadance’s mane was a tangled mess of knots, and the last remnants of her makeup were smeared on her cheeks and around her eyes. Cadance hadn’t had time to remove the makeup after dinner before they’d found themselves in bed. She stank like drool and sweat and sex, and she couldn’t be more beautiful.

Twilight turned onto her side and brushed back the loose strands of hair that had fallen over Cadance’s face. Despite Twilight’s careful touch, Cadance’s snoring stopped as she sleepily groaned and released her pillow to hold Twilight’s hoof against her cheek.

“What time is it?” Cadance mumbled as she nuzzled against Twilight’s captured hoof.

“Half past ten,” Twilight answered. “The alarm clock didn’t go off.”

“I turned it off,” Cadance said with a yawn. She threw aside the pillow she’d been hugging and crawled back under the sheet, snuggling closer until they were sharing Twilight’s pillow. “And I told the maids we were sleeping in.”

Cadance tilted her head up, her lips puckered for a kiss, and Twilight obliged. The side of Cadance’s face that had been marinading in drool smelled like morning breath, but Twilight was certain she probably didn’t smell much better.

“Happy birthday,” Cadance said as she buried her face into Twilight’s neck. “Today’s the big day.”

Twilight grunted in agreement. Everypony they knew would be at Twilight’s birthday party, and Cadance had had the idea to use it as an opportunity to announce their engagement to their friends and family.

It was a big secret to carry around for all that time. They’d nearly had a few slip ups where they’d almost prematurely let the cat out of the bag. The closest call had been when Cadance had dreamed about their wedding, and Luna had coincidentally peeked into her dreams just in time to catch Cadance and Dream-Twilight exchanging vows. Luckily, the entire wedding party being made up of enormous gummy bears had been enough to throw Luna off the trail.

But that secret would be out after today. Their family and friends would know, and all the staff that was within earshot would know, then the entire castle, all of the Guard, all of Canterlot, then eventually all of Equestria would know that Princess Mi Amore Cadenza would be marrying her personal guard.

A lot would change for Twilight come the next day. Not the least of which was the fact that she’d have to begin the paperwork for her own discharge.

She’d be leaving the Royal Guard.

Not even a year in, and already she was leaving behind the thing she’d spent nearly two full decades living and breathing for. It was unavoidable, though. When she took Cadance as her wife – or, more accurately, when Cadance took her – she wouldn’t be Decurion Twilight Sparkle, she’d be Princess Consort Twilight Sparkle.

Traditionally, one could not be a Royal Guard while also being royalty.

It hurt, thinking about what she was giving up, but it was worth it. If anything was worth hanging up her armor, it was Cadance.

“Twilight, are you okay?” Cadance suddenly asked, concern clear in her voice. “Your heart just started beating really fast.”

“I’m fine, it’s just nerves,” Twilight said, laughing sheepishly.

Cadance snuggled in closer, draping a wing over them as they cuddled. “Is it about announcing the engagement?”

Twilight hesitated, not wanting to burden Cadance with her worries, but she realized how wrongheaded that was. They’d been together for almost a year, and Twilight had heard Cadance counsel couples enough to know that this was something she couldn’t keep to herself.

“Yeah,” Twilight admitted.

Twilight sighed as she felt Cadance lightly stroke her chest, running her hoof over the spot above her heart like she was trying to gently pull the worries out of her. Twilight could tell that Cadance knew what was bothering her – Cadance always knew.

“I’m sorry,” Cadance said, her voice softly ringing with regret. “I’m sorry for what you have to give up today to be with me…”

“Don’t worry about it,” Twilight reassured her, giving the top of Cadance’s head a kiss. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Yes it is,” Cadance insisted. She sat up in bed and the sheet fell away with a whisper of silk against her coat. “Being in the Royal Guard has been your dream since you were a filly. And now, because of me… because of who I am… you have to give that up so we can be together.”

Twilight sat up and nuzzled her face against Cadance’s. “You’re my dream, Cadance. I just never knew it until I met you.”

Cadance let out watery chuckle as she let herself be pulled into a hug. “That’s such a line,” she said. “You’ve already got me into bed. You don’t have to work so hard.”

“Yeah, sure, laugh at my earnest feelings,” Twilight said with a pout and feigned offense.

Twilight pulled Cadance back down onto the bed and they resumed their previous position. They had things to do, but it just felt like one of those slow-start days.

“Do you think I’ll be a good princess?” Twilight asked.

“I know you will. Are you worried that you won’t be?”

Twilight shrugged as much as she was able to with Cadance nearly lying atop her. “I think that I’ve spent a very long time preparing myself to do a certain job, and now I’m about to experience a change of career that I’m completely unready for… Luna and Princess Celestia have centuries of experience, and the finest tutors in Equestria prepared you for your station. I’m just a soldier. Give me a unit, maybe even a whole squad, I’ll lead them just fine. You give me a nation?” Twilight shook her head in disbelief, overwhelmed by the very thought of leading a whole country. “I have no clue what to even begin doing with something like that.”

“We’re not going to just throw you to the wolves the second you take the crown, Twilight,” Cadance snickered. “My aunts and I will be there to help you. We’ll make sure you never bite off more than you can chew, at least until you’ve got your hooves under you.”

“So I’ll just be a trophy wife?” Twilight asked, frowning at the image that conjured in her mind.

“Hardly,” Cadance said. “I know you. You think you’re not prepared so you’re going to be studying your cute little butt off trying to get up to speed. I’m sure you’ll be terrorizing the nobles in very short order with your mastery of courtly procedure. And it’s not like you haven’t been shadowing me for months. You’ve already got a pretty good leg-up on what it takes to do the job.”

“Oh, great,” Twilight said snarkily, “I’ve been reclassified from trophy wife to intern.”

Cadance snorted. “You do make a tasty cup of coffee... and you take great dictation.”

“That sort of double entendre doesn’t work, love,” Twilight said with a roll of her eyes. “We’re both girls.”

“Guess my joke really got the shaft,” Cadance countered.

Twilight moaned in pain at the forced joke. “One more of those and I’ll smother you with a pillow.”

“You’re being awfully cocky.”

Twilight made a show of trying to rise from bed. She lifted a few inches off the mattress, groaning like she was trying to move while an incredible weight was pressing down on her, one hoof grasping half-heartedly at the air for something to help heave herself out of bed. She held up the charade for a few seconds and fell back to the mattress with a dramatically defeated sigh.

“Not worth it,” Twilight muttered. “The birthday laziness has taken me.”

Cadance giggled happily. “I love it when you’re silly.”

“I learned it from watching you,” Twilight pointed out.

They lay in bed for a while longer, enjoying the sounds of spring and one another’s companionship. The steady beating of Cadance’s heart against hers nearly lulled Twilight back to sleep.

It was a perfect moment of slow, flawless contentment. All her nervousness and stress faded to background noise as her world compressed into a space just large enough to hold against herself in bed. As far as birthday gifts went, this moment was a pretty good one.

Cadance gently shook her, breaking the spell of their perfect life-moment. “Hey, don’t fall asleep,” she said. “We need to get up.”

“No,” Twilight muttered.

“Yes,” Cadance insisted as she threw off the covers and stretched herself outside like a cat. “Get up. I’ll even let you have first shot at the bathroom.”

“Fine,” Twilight said with a sigh as she rolled out of bed.

She went to the bathroom, stopping to check her appearance in the mirror as she passed the sink. Cadance’s lipstick from the night before was smeared around her mouth, and a line of the stuff traced along her collarbone. Twilight ran her hoof under the sink and tried to wipe some of it off, but it had stubbornly worked itself into her fur, so she decided to ignore it in favor of relieving the pressure in her bladder.

Twilight didn’t bother closing the door. Cadance had a very fluid concept of personal boundaries, so it wasn’t anything she hadn’t walked in on before. That they’d long ago crossed that particular point of comfort with one another was a milestone in their relationship, according to Cadance. Though, that might have just been something she’d picked up from those fashion and lifestyle magazines she liked.

“Before I forget, there’s this dress I wanted to show you last night,” Cadance shouted through the open door.

“Another one?” Twilight shouted back. “Didn’t you already decide on that one with the really long train and the gold trimming?”

“No, no, not for me,” Cadance replied, “for you!”

Twilight finished up and went to wash her hooves. “Cadance, I told you, I’m not wearing a dress.”

“Oh, come on,” Cadance said in a pleading whine as she walked into the bathroom. The scrapbook filled with her wedding ideas was floating above her head. “At least look at it.”

“Cadance, I’m holding fast on this one,” Twilight said firmly. “I may have to quit the Guard, but I’m getting married in my dress uniform.”

Cadance set the book on the sink counter and began flipping through the pages until she found what she was looking for. “Just look at it,” she insisted, tapping the page with her hoof.

Twilight sighed and examined the picture. “Well… I admit it is pretty.”

“Right?” Cadance said excitedly. “And I know you have… issues with wearing virgin-white…”

“After everything I’ve let you do to me, it’d be a lie, Cadance,” Twilight said, half-jokingly.

“Yeah, yeah, you have scruples,” Cadance said dismissively, “but that’s why this dress works.” She tapped the magazine clipping again. “As you can plainly see, this isn’t ‘pure’ white. It’s, uh… a shade between off-white and eggshell.”

Twilight’s eyebrow went up at the slight hesitation in Cadance’s voice. “Uh-huh… what’s it’s called?”

Cadance averted her eyes, fixing her gaze solidly on the magazine clipping as she toyed with the corner of the page. She mumbled something too low to hear.

“I didn’t catch that,” Twilight said, leaning forward and turning an ear towards Cadance.

Cadance cleared her throat. “They, ah, call it ‘whore’s-white’...”

Twilight snapped the book closed, nearly catching Cadance's hoof. “Cadance, no! I am not wearing something called whore’s-white!”

“Come on, it’s just a name!” Cadance said, throwing her head back in exasperation. “I’m meeting you half way! Think about how hot you’ll look in a wedding dress!”

“Cadance, no!” Twilight repeated. “We can’t wear two different shades of white! Everypony at the wedding is going to think you’re a virgin and I’m not!”

They glared at one another, locking eyes in a contest of wills. Normally, Twilight would be at a disadvantage in such an exchange, but this was something she would not bend on. Their silent battle stretched on for what seemed like hours, until at last Cadance sat on her haunches with a defeated, frustrated groan.

“Okay, I can see you’re going to be stubborn about this, so let’s cut a deal,” Cadance began as she massaged her temples. “You can wear the uniform for the ceremony, but you’re still coming with me to try on dresses.” She held up a hoof, forestalling the argument building in Twilight’s throat. “You don’t have to buy one, you just have to try them on and model for me and your mom.”

Twilight chewed her lip thoughtfully. Her mind was already made up about wearing her dress uniform, but that didn’t mean that she didn’t see the appeal of an actual wedding dress. She might not be as dainty and ladylike as Cadance, but she was still a girl. She did want to at least try wearing a wedding dress, even if it was just in a showroom.

“Agreed,” Twilight said.

“And we get to take pictures,” Cadance added.

“Fine,” Twilight agreed, after a moment of hesitation. “As long as the pictures never leave the family photo albums, that’s okay with me.”

“Wonderful!” Cadance sang, clapping her hooves excitedly. “See? You’re already learning diplomacy!”

Cadance levitated the book along, flipping it back open and humming a wedding march to herself as she went to do her business. Twilight went to the shower and got the water started.

She could already tell that this was going to be one of those days.


* * *


The Canterlot train station was as busy as ever. Even in the middle of the day, ponies stood around with briefcases, saddlebags, and suitcases. Most alternated between reading  and occasionally looking up to check the clock.

Twilight sat one of the waiting benches towards the back of the station, away from the crowd impatiently pressed together at the edge of the platform. She looked up at the board displaying the schedule, noting that the posting regarding the train from Ponyville still read ‘On Time’.

She pursed her lips and blew raspberries as she idly swung her rear legs back and forth. Cadance was back at the castle, preparing one of the smaller ballrooms for the birthday party-slash-engagement reception. To that end, she had kicked Twilight out of the castle for the afternoon, which seemed both marvelously unfair and dramatically unnecessary. If Cadance wanted the decorations to be a surprise, all she had to do was ask Twilight to stay away from the southern wing of the castle.

Sure, Twilight would have peeked anyway, but Cadance had no way of knowing that. Ejecting her from the castle was a remarkable show of distrust.

At least Cadance wasn’t alone, as far as Twilight knew. Rarity had been in residence at the castle for the better part of a week as a guest of Cadance’s. The fashionable unicorn had approached Cadance over the Hearth’s Warming holiday for accommodations come spring, so that she could visit Canterlot in time to get in line with the newest spring fashions and get in touch with fabric suppliers.

She’d been very insistent on helping with the party once it was mentioned to her. Rarity had said it was the least she could do given the role Twilight had played in helping Fluttershy during the incident several months ago. Though, Twilight suspected Rarity might also be trying to score herself a few points with her beau’s little sister.

Either way, it was very sweet.

Banished from the castle as she was, Twilight had very few options to kill time until the party later that evening. Normally she would see if Glowstone or Luna was free for a cup of coffee or something, but that wasn’t an option, since they were both in the castle – the castle she was forbidden from setting hoof in.

Her parents were likewise a non-option. She’d gone to her parents’ place as soon as she’d been kicked out of the castle, but nopony had been home. The nosey stallion next door – her father’s sometimes-friend, sometimes-rival – had poked his head over the hedge and said they’d left early that morning.

Lollipop was the next pony to pop into mind. A brisk walk had taken her to her friend’s house, but again she’d missed her intended target. Bit Coin, Lollipop’s fraternal twin brother, had answered the door. According to him, Lollipop had also left early that morning, saying she had business to attend to. He’d invited Twilight in, but judging from the sleepy look in his eyes and the disheveled state of his mane, she’d woken him from a nap. From what she knew he was still working overtime to cover the lost expenses from Lollipop’s suspension, so she’d declined and left him to enjoy his day off after making sure he knew he was invited to the party later that night.

With nopony else to visit, she’d sought refuge in a bookstore. Buying books and washing down stale muffins with mediocre ‘gourmet’ coffee had wasted a couple of hours – as well as lightened the coin purse tied to the straps of her chakram’s holster – and she likely would have spent the whole day there if an idea for an even better distraction hadn’t come to her.

Her brothers and the rest of their friends were supposed to arrive in Canterlot that afternoon to attend her birthday party. While she couldn’t claim to be as close to the girls as Shining and Spike were, she’d once had something of a slumber party with them, and they’d all spent a little bit of time together over Hearth’s Warming. She liked the girls that made up five-sixths of the Elements of Harmony, and was glad that they’d all managed to come down for her birthday.

The shrill, piercing wail of a train whistle filled the air, alerting everypony on the platform of the train’s arrival. Twilight resisted the urge to leap to her hooves as the train came chugging up the mountain. Within a few minutes the train pulled into the station, belching steam and smoke as the station crew rush to attend to the needs of the train and passengers alike.

Twilight caught a few familiar voices over the cacophony of ponies getting on and off the train. She followed the voices to a passenger car towards the rear of the train where Shining Armor was just stepping onto the platform.

“Hey, Shiny!” she shouted.

Shining Armor turned in her direction, a smile already on his face. “I recognize that voice,” he said happily. He trotted over and pulled her into a hug. “Happy birthday, Twily!”

Spike had noticed them and rushed over to join the greeting. “Happy birthday, Twi,” he said as he wrapped an arm around her neck and tousled her mane like when they were children.

The rest of their group wasn’t far behind, and Twilight gave thanks to the round of birthday greetings she was getting.

“Twilight, Twilight,” Pinkie Pie said excitedly as she bounced up and down in place. “I wrote a birthday song for you, and everypony said I should sing it tonight at the party, but you’re here and I didn’t expect you to be here so maybe I should sing it now, but maybe it’d be better to sing it when everypony else can hear it! Oh, or maybe I could sing it twice! Then you can hear it now and then again later!”

“Simmer down, Pinkie,” Applejack said with a grin as she stalled Pinkie’s bouncing by setting a hoof on her head. “You can sing your song later tonight.”

“I’d love to hear it later,” Twilight said in agreement. She’d been witness to one of Pinkie Pie’s performances before, and she knew that the bubbly girl tended to throw her whole body into the act of singing. A train station was dangerous enough without somepony flittering between train cars and dancing atop stacks of luggage.

Twilight felt something tapping at her flank and turned to find a small pegasus filly was jabbing at her scarred Cutie Mark with one hoof. There were two more fillies standing at other side of her, both looking at the little pegasus with stern, reproachful glares.

“Dagnabit, Scootaloo, quit poking her, that’s rude!” shouted the little yellow-coated earth pony.

“Dagnabit, Apple Bloom,” Applejack said with a stomp of her hoof, “what all did I tell you about using that kind of language?”

“Well it is!” Apple Bloom shouted in her own defense.

“She’s right,” the little white unicorn with the curly mane said in agreement. “It’s very rude. Rarity says you should always keep your hooves to yourself.”

“I just wanted to see if this awesome scar was real or not,” Scootaloo said as she sat on her haunches and crossed her arms over her chest in a huff. “Look how rad it is!”

“Scootaloo, that’s quite enough, young lady,” Fluttershy said with more authority than Twilight had ever heard in her voice. “It’s not nice to point out things like that. Some ponies are very sensitive about that sort of thing.”

Scootaloo was the one being scolded, but somehow all three fillies hung their heads in shame at Fluttershy’s lecture.

Twilight laughed and patted Scootaloo on the head. “That’s okay. You’re an inquisitive little bunch.”

“Sorry about that, Twi,” Spike said as he went up to the little unicorn and set her on his back. “You probably already figured it out, but this is Rarity’s little sister, Sweetie Belle. She heard that I was coming to visit Rares at the castle and she insisted on coming. Which meant that these two,” he gestured towards the other two fillies, “also insisted.”

“I heard about you girls over Hearth’s Warming,” Twilight said. She looked up to see that Applejack had stepped away to discuss something with one of the porters and was just returning to the group. “Apple Bloom, you’re Applejack’s sister, right?”

“Sure am,” the filly said with pride in her voice.

“So is it real or not?” Scootaloo asked, rudely blurting the question out. “And what’s that whizbee thing? Are you really into whizbee or something?”

“Yes, it’s real,” Twilight answered, ignoring the disbelieving glares the rest of the adults in their group were leveling at the girl. “And this,” she shrugged the shoulder her weapon was strapped against, “is a chakram. It’s sort of like a whizbee, but it’s not for playing – it’s part of my uniform.”

“Spike said you were in the Royal Guard,” Apple Bloom stated, seemingly emboldened by Twilight’s willingness to put up with Scootaloo’s questioning. “Does that mean you got that scar in a fight? Didn’t it hurt?”

Twilight shook her head in amusement. The adults were still wearing reproachful looks, but they all had the glimmer of curiosity in their eyes that said they wanted to hear about it, too. She’d met with them all a few times, but not even her brothers had ever been so blunt in asking about the wound that crossed her Cutie Mark. Adults knew better than to ask questions like that, but children didn’t have that sort of social filter.

“I got this protecting my friends,” Twilight explained, turning a little so the fillies could get a better look. “And yeah… it hurt a lot.”

For a while nopony said anything. The adults were unsure of what to say, and the fillies stood there silently, cowed by an admission that should have been obvious.

The train whistled, signaling that it was ready to depart. The stragglers waiting until the last moment to board the train rushed to make it aboard.

“Ah, sorry about that, Miss Twilight,” Applejack said apologetically as she stepped up to pull Apple Bloom to her side. Adding the ‘Miss’ to Twilight’s name was probably her way of trying to be respectful, which wasn’t necessary, but it was easier to let it slide than to make things more awkward by trying to correct her. “They’re just fillies, ya know? These three got Cutie Marks on the brain and they ain’t never seen a scar like yours. We ain’t got too many soldiering types in Ponyville.”

“And you gotta admit, Twilight,” Rainbow Dash added, moving in to claim Scootaloo, “it is a pretty rad scar.”

“It’s fine, really,” Twilight insisted, smiling the whole time. “I’m used to it. You think these fillies are bad? Try spending an hour in a room with a bunch of professional soldiers. You get enough grizzled stallions together and you’re going to end up seeing somepony’s scars – whether you want to or not.”

The group chuckled politely. They were clearly relieved that she wasn’t offended.

“Well, now that you’re all here,” Twilight began, hoping to ease a little more of the tension the inquisitive filly had unknowingly drummed up, “I’m kind of banned from the castle until the party, so why don’t we all go out for some ice cream or something? It’ll be my treat.”

Everypony’s ears perked up at the mention of free ice cream. Pinkie Pie and the three fillies seemed especially interested.

“Sorry, Twi,” Spike said, “but I think I have to pass. I haven’t seen Rarity all week and… you know…”

Twilight rolled her eyes. “I get it, go on. Go see your girlfriend, you lady-killer. It’s just more ice cream for the rest of us.”

“Afraid Bloom and I have to pass, too, sug,” Applejack added. She nodded towards a group of porters who were busy loading a stack of barrels with bright red bands onto a wagon. “We got business in the castle. Apparently they’re having some kind of shindig tonight and the guest of honor has a liking for Sweet Apple Acres’ finest Red Barrel Reserve.”

“I never pass up free ice cream!” Pinkie Pie exclaimed. “Eeeeexcept when I do. Sorry, Twilight, but there’s a party being planned and I just have to get a piece of that action.”

“And I promised AJ I’d help unload her barrels,” Rainbow Dash explained.

“I’d hate it if I didn’t do my share to pitch in for the party,” Fluttershy suggested. “Plus, I think everypony might need some help keeping an eye on the girls.”

Their excuses made, the group left together once Applejack and Rainbow Dash had hitched themselves to the wagon’s harness. The fillies had complained loudly about missing out on ice cream, but Pinkie had calmed them down by assuring them that there would be ice cream and cake at the party. They walked away shouting goodbyes and promises to see Twilight later that night as they left her standing alone on the platform.

Shining Armor must have read her mind, because he chose that exact moment to loudly clear his throat.

“I like ice cream,” he said with a smile.

“Okay, but you’re buying,” Twilight replied as she led the way to the shop.

“Aren’t you going to buy?”

“Oh, sure, make your little sister buy her own ice cream on her birthday,” Twilight said, drawing out her words in faux-dramatic fashion.

“Okay, okay, I’ll pay,” he conceded. An odd, thoughtful look crossed his features, and he chuckled lightly. “You know, I think the last time I bought you ice cream was… you were twelve.”

“Hm… sounds about right,” Twilight agreed. “I think that was my birthday, too.”

Shining Armor nodded. “It was, yeah. Mom and dad brought you home from school for the weekend, and they wanted me to get you out of the house so they could set up your surprise party.”

“Not too different from today, really,” Twilight said. She paused at an intersection to let a line of taxi carriages cross their path. Tourists were leaning out of the windows, snapping pictures at everything they passed, no matter how mundane. “Only difference is that I know the party is coming this time, and it’s not going to just be random foals from the neighborhood that only showed up for free cake. I’ve actually got friends coming.”

Twilight felt a bump against her shoulder as Shining nudged her. His face was split in a wide, knowing grin. “It’s nice to have friends, right?”

It was good to see him smiling so often. Moving to Ponyville, becoming friends with five oddball mares, and becoming the Element of Magic, had done wonders for his disposition. Sometimes she could still see the closed-in, nervous introvert he’d been, but good friends had slowly pushed that back.

The procession of taxis ended and the ice cream shop came into view just down the street. The shop was a small building nestled between two larger shops, just big enough to house the kitchen and counters, leaving room for an outdoor seating area filled with plastic patio furniture. It was sunny, springtime afternoon, so the shop was busy, but not packed enough to discourage them. They made their purchases – rocky road for Shining, and a caramel swirled prench vanilla for Twilight – and found a table in the corner of the dining area that wasn’t too sticky.

“So, you know that I have to ask,” Twilight said after they’d had a few mouthfuls, “how’re things going with your girls?”

“We’re doing fine,” Shining said.

“You know what I mean,” Twilight insisted, wagging her spoon at him.

Shining Armor wiped a few errant flecks of Twilight’s ice cream off his face and frowned. “We’re doing fine,” he replied with a bit more force.

“Still haven’t picked one of them, huh?”

“And I won’t be,” Shining Armor said insistently. “They’re my friends, Twilight. I’m not going to gamble that by trying to pursue anything romantic. Believe me, they feel the same way. If they didn’t they wouldn’t be constantly trying to ‘hook me up’,” he lifted his hooves and made little air quotes around the term, “with other mares.”

The spoon slipped from Twilight’s magical grasp and clattered loudly against the half-empty bowl. “Whoa, hold it. Stop. Back up. They’re doing what and why is this is the first I’m hearing of it?”

Shining flushed, lowering his eyes to the table in embarrassment. Twilight could tell that he must be thinking he’d said too much, but there was no way she was letting this go.

“Well?” she insisted, prodding him with a small shove of her magic against his shoulder.

“They keep… trying to get me to go on dates,” Shining said with a sigh. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate it, but I’m just not interested right now. I’m still so wrapped up in my studies of friendship that I don’t know if I can devote much energy to something like romance.”

“Oh, come off it, Shiny,” Twilight said, “nopony has the time for romance. You make the time.”

“That’s what Spike and the girls keep telling me.” Shining took his spoon with his magic and lazily swirled it around in the bowl, slowly melting the ice cream into soup. “It’s not like I wouldn’t like somepony special, I’m just kind of waiting for it to happen on its own, I guess.”

“That’s romantic in its own way, I suppose,” Twilight said around another mouthful of ice cream, “but you should still put yourself out there. If you find somepony you like, you should go for it. That’s what I did.”

Twilight decided to leave out the fact that it took nearly dying at the paws of an ancient, monstrously powerful deity from beyond this realm to prod her into acting on her first real romantic inclination. Her instincts – which were generally good and right – told her that that might undermine her point, somehow.

“I know,” he replied as he played with his soup. “It’d also probably put a stop to their zany schemes.”

Twilight’s ears perked up. “Nopony mentioned anything about zany schemes.”

“Oh yeah,” Shining said, chuckling. “You remember Trixie, that showmare I wrote to you about?”

“The braggart?”

He nodded. “She swore vengeance on me for embarrassing her. The girls got it into their heads, though, that it was just her way of saying she liked me.”

“Like a filly shoving you in the mud and running away giggling?” Twilight asked, lifting an eyebrow.

“Rainbow Dash used that exact same analogy!” Shining said, grinning at the coincidence. “But yeah, just like that. Anyway, Pinkie Pie tracked her down, somehow, and she and the other girls started sending Trixie letters pretending to be me in an attempt to…” He tapped his chin thoughtfully. “You know, I don’t think they ever told me what they thought they were doing. I don’t think they had an end game for that plan.”

“A scheme with a purpose is just a scheme,” Twilight said philosophically, “purposelessness is what makes it zany.”

“Right? So apparently the letters got kind of flirty, and after a while Trixie gets it in her head to surprise her ‘boyfriend’ with a visit.”

“No!” Twilight exclaimed.

“Yes!” Shining said, finally getting into the spirit of telling the tale. “Imagine my surprise when I come home from a meeting with the mayor about topsoil conditions to find a trail of rose petals leading from the front door to upstairs. I follow the trail and find Trixie – who I hadn’t even thought about in months – on my bed, covered in rose petals and whipped cream, with sexy jazz music on the record player.”

Twilight chewed on her lip, barely holding back the torrent of giggles threatening to burst out of her. “What’d you do?”

“What could I do!?” Shining Armor asked, throwing his hooves into the air. “I just stared at her until my brain caught up with my eyes, and all I could think to say was, ‘This is the strangest revenge attempt I’ve ever seen.’ Then I backed out of the room and shut the door.”

Twilight doubled over, forehead pressed against the table, clutching her belly and convulsing with laughter at the image of her austere, bookish brother in such a compromising scene. She could almost see him standing there, gawping at a mare lying on his bed, his mouth agape in shock while saxophones blared with brassy seduction.

She was in public, and no doubt drawing some funny looks, but Twilight couldn’t help herself. Knowing that she was making a scene made the whole thing even funnier, and the realization launched her into a second round of chuckles. By the time she got her laughter under control her entire body hurt from the fit.

“My big brother,” Twilight said hoarsely, wiping tears from her eyes, “the master of seduction. Who knew Shining Armor, of all ponies, had game?”

“Who knew my little sister was the type to say that somepony ‘had game’?” Shining Armor replied snarkily. “And it’s funny, now, I suppose, but at the time it was very confusing. Trixie certainly wasn’t happy about it. She accused me of planning the whole thing from the beginning to embarrass her and ran out of town so fast that she tripped and fell on her face. I don’t think she really believed I had anything to do with it, though.”

“What makes you think that?”

Shining brought the bowl to his lips and slurped the soup noisily. “Because a week later I got another letter from her,” he explained. “All it had was a return address, the message ‘Just in case’, and a… uh, I think the term is a selfie picture… a saucy one.”

“You got a Prench Postcard from her?” Twilight asked in disbelief. She leaned forward, flashing her most impish grin. “You kept the picture?”

Shining Armor flushed again and cleared his throat. “It would’ve been rude not to,” he quietly replied as he lifted the bowl for another sip.

“Well I’m glad you’ve got something going,” Twilight said encouragingly. “Anypony else you’ve got your eye on, or maybe has their eye on you?”

“I think the mayor might have a thing for me,” Shining Armor admitted with a shrug. “I don’t know about that, though. Cheerilee’s also been asking after me a lot, according to the Crusaders.” Twilight shot him a questioning look and he added, “The three fillies you met today, they call themselves the Cutie Mark Crusaders, because they’re still trying to figure out their talents.”

“Ah, I see,” Twilight said. She scooped the last of the melted sludge from her bowl and pushed it aside. “Is this Cheerilee… one of their little friends or something?”

“No,” Shining Armor insisted, “she’s their teacher.”

“School teacher, huh?” Twilight said, rubbing her chin contemplatively. That seemed more Shining Armor’s speed than a showmare. Quiet nights in front of a fire with a book, snuggling up and discussing lesson plans – definitely the kind of thing she could see working for her brother. Though, romance was odd, and for all she knew maybe a slightly-unhinged illusionist was a good balance to his personality. “Interesting…”

Something in her face must have unnerved Shining. He pushed his own bowl away and leaned back in his chair. “I don’t like that look in your eyes…” he said warily. “Why are all the mares in my life so interested in my love life?”

Twilight shrugged. “Your friends are interested because they’re girls, and playing matchmaker is one of those things that got encoded into their brains at a very young age,” she explained. “Fillies are always trying to pair up their dolls with one another, and when they grow up into mares they do the same with their unattached friends. You’re their dolly, Shining Armor.”

He frowned. “You never played with dolls,” he pointed out. “Except Smarty Pants, but I don’t remember you ever pairing her up with another doll.”

“Optio Smarty Pants didn’t have a heart for romance, her only mistress was the battlefield,” Twilight said, tapping her hoof on the table insistently, making sure to emphasize the doll's rank, because damnit, she earned that promotion. She stacked their empty bowls and set them in the center of the table. “And I’m interested in your love life because I love you and I want you to be happy… also because Cadance is constantly bugging me to get more details. Every time I get a letter from you she’s in my ear, ‘Is he dating anypony? Is he now? How about now? Why isn’t he seeing somepony?’ Sometimes I think she cares more about your sex life than ours.”

Shining Armor’s face bunched up all sour-like, clearly discomforted by the phrasing Twilight had just used. She suppressed a chuckle at the fact that the very notion of his little sister having sex made him so uncomfortable, but she supposed that she’d feel the same way if their ages were reversed. They were both adults, though, and neither of them commented on it beyond what was already said.

“Why is she so interested?” he asked.

“She still considers you a friend, Shining,” Twilight pointed out. “I know you two didn’t talk much, but you and Spike were still the only people in the castle around her age. Even if you weren’t all that close, she still likes you and wants you to be happy.”

Shining Armor looked away with a long, drawn-out sigh. He stared off in the busy street at nothing in particular, a pensive look clearly on his face.

“I was a very poor friend to her…” he softly said after a few moments of reflection. “Spike and I actually talked about it after you told us you were seeing one another. Cadance reached out to me when we were younger, and I ignored it. I was too busy for unimportant things like friends.” He turned back to Twilight, a wistful smile playing across his lips. “Sometimes I wonder what it would’ve been like if I’d accepted her friendship back then.”

Nearly a year ago, Twilight had heard something similar from Cadance. Before all the craziness, before the mad gods and nightmare beasts, before she even knew her first taste of love, Twilight was a nervous rookie stepping onto the deck of an old, beat-up airship to meet the princess she’d been assigned to guard.

It had been quite the surprise to learn that they already shared a pseudo-connection through Shining Armor. Cadance, the lonely adopted niece of Princess Celestia, had tried to befriend her aunt’s equally lonely protégé. Cadance had even confessed to having a youthful crush on Shining, and had attempted to get his attention, romantically, with little success.

Shining Armor wasn’t alone in wondering how things might have gone differently. Sometimes Twilight wondered what it might have been like if her brother hadn’t been so focused on his studies, so densely immune to the charms of the finest filly in Canterlot.

Would they have dated? Would Cadance have come to visit their family during the holidays? Would the mare that Twilight loved with all her heart have considered her nothing more than a younger sister?

It made Twilight’s stomach hurt to think about it, but thankfully things hadn’t fallen that way. It was all ‘maybes’ and ‘what-ifs’, paths and possibilities they had long ago passed. It was pointless to dwell on such things. Twilight believed in the power of choice, and their choices had led them all to where they stood today, and that was the only thing that mattered.

“You’re not the stallion you were, Shiny,” Twilight said. “It’s never too late to be a better friend. And it’s not like you won’t be seeing a lot of her over holidays and stuff, since she’s with me.” Twilight raised an eyebrow and leaned forward, giving him a playful glare. “Just as long as you do remember that she’s with me and you keep your hooves to yourself.”

“No worries about that,” Shining Armor replied, grinning and holding up his hooves defensively. “Even if she wasn’t already taken, I think she might be a tad out of my league.”

“Hey, she’s out of my league, too, but I still managed to trick her into falling for me,” Twilight said wryly. “Now tell me about this Cheerilee girl.”


* * *


Twilight tilted and turned her head, trying to peek beneath the scrap of cloth wrapped around her eyes. The blindfold was doing its job, but Cadance had tied it a little bit too tightly and the kerchief was pulled against her eyelids with noticeable pressure.

“Can you see?” Cadance asked as she worried the blindfold more securely into place with little tugs of her magic.

“No,” Twilight answered, “but it’s a little tight.”

Twilight felt the familiar tingle of Cadance's magic working at the knot behind her head.

“Better?” Cadance asked.

“Much,” Twilight said. She repeated a few more turns of her head, testing for any gaps in the blindfold, as per Cadance’s request, and nodded. “All set, even though I think a blindfold is kind of unnecessary, seeing as I already know there’s a party waiting for me at the end of this hallway.”

“Don’t be a party pooper at your own party.”

Twilight caught the scent of perfume just before she felt the soft hairs of Cadance’s tail tickling her nose. The sensation passed, then came again, repeating as Cadance swished her tail playfully against Twilight’s face.

“Cadance, we’re in public,” Twilight said with a blush.

“We’re alone in a hallway in our house, and it’s a special day,” Cadance countered. “Shush up and grab my tail so you don’t walk into a wall.”

Twilight did was she was told and bit down on the hairs of Cadance’s tail as it swished by. Cadance made a small, pleased noise that Twilight knew had been designed to make her blush. Twilight let Cadance lead her down the hallway. She strained her ears, filtering out the sound of hers and Cadance’s steps and picking up the slight, excited mumble of voices in the distance shushing one another and laughing.

“Okay, here we are,” Cadance said as she stopped.

Twilight let go of her girlfriend’s tail and took a deep breath, steeling herself for whatever Cadance had planned. Cadance took a few steps back and put her body against Twilight’s, guiding her the last few steps through the doorway and into the ballroom. A new round of suppressed chuckles and shushing began as soon as Twilight was over the threshold.

The knot behind her head came loose and the blindfold was yanked away. The sudden flood of light hit her darkness-adjusted vision painfully, and she blinked as dozens of colors and blurred shapes shifted amongst the stars in her eyes.

“Surprise! Happy birthday!” shouted the blurred assembly of ponies. Their voices mixed together into a single, disharmonized chorus of sound, but she was able to pick out the most familiar voices.

Her vision finally came into focus and she found herself looking into a crowd of smiling faces. A banner was hung up at the back of the ballroom, taking up half the wall to wish her a happy birthday.

Twilight’s parents rushed out of the mob and hugged her enthusiastically. There were tears in her mother’s eyes, and Twilight and her father shared a whispered joke about how emotional she was being.

Shining, Spike, and Rarity were next to hurry forward for a hug and to give their personal birthday greetings. Then their friends came to do the same.

Glowstone was there, wearing a pointed paper party hat that was taller than Celestia’s horn and had Twilight’s Cutie Mark on it. He didn’t hug her, but he did blow a party favor rudely in her face, and that was just as nice.

Some of her fellow guards came up as a group. They were mostly Decurions like herself, and they all expressed the collective well-wishes of their subordinates.

Princess Celestia and Luna were standing at the rear of the party, near the table where a monstrously huge cake was surrounded by boxes wrapped in brightly colored paper and big decorative bows. They didn’t come over in person, but they toasted her with a couple of disposable plastic party cups as she met their eyes.

Luna tilted her head towards the cake, and Twilight followed the motion just as Lollipop came up from under the table, wrestling a pastry bag as big as a foal as she added a finishing touch to the baked leviathan of sugar and frosting. Lollipop finalized her adjustment and set down the bag of frosting, waving enthusiastically at Twilight, a wide, happy grin on her face. She reared up and held out her hooves like a showpony displaying something impressive.

The mystery of the business Lollipop had left that morning to attend to had been solved, and Twilight was ecstatic to see her friend back in the castle. Back in the castle and baking, no less. Pinkie Pie enjoyed a reputation as a pretty stellar baker, but nopony could hold a candle against Lollipop when she cut loose in the kitchen. If the furtive glances Princess Celestia was tossing at the cake were any indication, Twilight wasn’t the only one who’d missed Lollipop’s presence in the castle kitchens.

Cadance had invited the ponies who’d been abducted a few months prior to the party, but only around half of them had made it. Most had simply moved out of Canterlot, but Cadance pointed to a stack of envelopes that had birthday cards from all the ponies that couldn’t be there.

The partygoers had lined up politely to wait their turns and filtered back into the party once they’d given their greetings. It took around a half hour for everypony who wanted to talk to Twilight to make it to her – not counting the ten minutes or so that Pinkie Pie's birthday song had taken up – and Twilight already felt exhausted from all the attention.

Twilight let out a heavy breath as she thanked the last of her guests and told them to go enjoy the party.

“Like the party?” Cadance asked, speaking low enough that their conversation was private.

“How did you get so many ponies to show up?” Twilight asked, overwhelmed and a little surprised by how many guests had shown up. “I wasn’t expecting a crowd this big.”

“You’ve touched more hearts than you know, Twilight,” Cadance said, her voice swelling with pride.

Twilight let that though sink in as she glanced around the room at the ponies that had gathered to celebrate her birth.

Glowstone was standing in the corner where a game of ‘pin the tail on the pony’ had been set up. He was helping the children put their blindfolds on and shouting hints as the foals took turns. His surprising affinity for children was drawing more interested looks from the single mares around him than his flirting had ever gotten, but he was so engrossed in the game that he hadn’t even noticed.

Lollipop was sitting in front of the table with the cake, jealously guarding her creation. Pepper Millie was at her side and the pair of them were talking animatedly with an excited Pinkie Pie, no doubt swapping recipes with the bubbly little baker.

Luna was sitting at a table, talking with her mother and Rarity while her father discussed something with Princess Celestia. Her father said something that made Princess Celestia chuckle into her hoof, and earned a warning glare and a look of disbelief from Twilight Velvet and Rarity respectively.

Shining Armor had found a quiet corner and surrounded himself with reams of paper and unrolled scrolls. A teenaged unicorn mare sat next to him, pointing at the pages as they talked. The girl snorted moistly and pushed a pair of thickly-rimmed glasses up her nose. Twilight blinked as she recognized the girl. It was one of the abduction victims, Star Wink. She was a pen-and-paper game enthusiast that had used her skills as a dungeon-maker to lead the evacuation out of the mines below Canterlot. Apparently she’d found a kindred spirit in Shining Armor, and the two of them had secluded themselves to discuss nerdy things. Twilight had heard that those games involved a fair amount of strategy and she made a mental note to stop over in their corner a little later to check it out.

Everywhere Twilight looked, friends and acquaintances mingled, laughing, playing, and eating. Rainbow Dash and Spike had parked themselves in front of a jukebox rigged up to a pair of speakers. They looked like they were arguing about what to play next as the ponies behind them danced.

“This is a great party,” Twilight said with a smile. “It would have been nice if Spitfire could have made it, though.”

“I sent an invitation to her office,” Cadance said, frowning delicately. “She sent back an RSVP so I assumed she’d be here.”

“It’s still early, I guess,” Twilight said. Spitfire probably wouldn’t show up, and Twilight wasn’t sure what she’d say if she did. But angry as she was about the way Spitfire had been blowing her off, she still sort of wanted to see her friend.

“Forget about that, just think about the announcement we’re going to be making tonight,” Cadance whispered excitedly. “I’ve got it all planned out. We’ll let the party go on for another half hour or so, then we’ll gather everypony to do the cake. Once we have their attention I’ll give a little speech, talk about how much I love you, blah, blah, blah, and so forth. That's when you cut the cake.”

Twilight nodded. “Alright, what happens when I cut the cake? How’s that supposed to tell everypony about our… you know.”

Cadance’s grin grew three sizes. “I’ve secretly cast a spell on it!” she explained with a giddy little hop. “As soon as a piece is taken out of it, the spell circuit is broken and it’ll change the message on the big banner!”

“Really? That’s actually pretty neat,” Twilight said in appreciation of her girlfriend’s spellcraft. Cadance may sometimes get a little down on herself about her magical aptitude, but she had a real flair for oddly complex spellwork with random effects. “Here’s a question, though. What happens if somepony cuts the cake before we get a chance to?”

Cadance pursed her lips and blew a dismissive raspberry. “As if somepony would be so gauche as to cut the cake at somepony else’s party.”

“Girls, no!”

Every pair of eyes in the room turned in the direction of the shout. Lollipop was hovering in the air, staring in disbelief at the three fillies from Ponyville, who had climbed onto the table while the chefs guarding it were busy distracting one another. Fluttershy had pulled Scootaloo away from the cake, and the little filly had one of those big spatula-like knives used for cutting and serving pie between her teeth. A slice of cake slid off the end of the pie knife and hit the table with a splat. The other two Cutie Mark Crusaders had set down the plates they’d been holding and were trying to slink off. Apple Bloom was inching her way towards the edge of the table, while Sweetie Belle slowly backed away in an attempt to blend in with the stack of presents.

Scootaloo spit out the knife and grinned sheepishly. “In my defense,” she began, “I didn’t think anypony would notice a few small pieces missing from a cake this big.”

A second later there was a loud pop, like a party favor going off. Confetti and streamers rained down from the ceiling out of thin air. The banner that had read “Happy Birthday, Twilight Sparkle!” unfolded with a flopping sound like a flag caught in a breeze. The banner flashed and sparkled with dramatically huge, magically glowing letters that twinkled like neon lights filled with star-stuff. The brightly colored marquee now read: “Guess Who’s Getting Married… Too Slow, It’s Us!!!”

Everyone in the room turned to Twilight and Cadance, who were still standing next to the entryway. Twilight turned her head as she heard the sound of something heavy falling to the ground.

Cadance had fainted.

Twilight looked up, her ears burning as the assembly gawked at her in shocked silence. The only thing that could be heard was some stupid pop song about dancing while brushing your teeth.

Considering the situation she was in, Twilight knew there was only one thing she could do.

She reared up on her hind legs, held out her arms, and shouted, “Surprise!”


* * *


Twilight stepped out of an open doorway and onto the veranda just outside the ballroom. Crickets chirped furiously, their calls battling with the sound of Equestria’s pop hits belting out of the speakers inside. The trellised roof of the veranda was covered in some variety of climbing roses, filling the air with a sweet, soothing odor. Twilight trudged over to one of the support beams holding up the roof and leaned against it heavily.

Things had gotten a little crazy once the surprise had been spoiled. Cadance had recovered from her shock in short order, and thankfully so. The rush of ponies jockeying for a chance to offer their congratulations and ask questions had been pretty overwhelming. Twilight wasn’t one to enjoy being the center of attention, and she wasn't sure what she would have done if Cadance hadn’t been there to deflect some of the attention.

How long had they been engaged? How did it happen? Who asked who? Had they set a date? Where were they registered? Who was going to make the wedding dress?

The question of who would make the dress had answered itself, at least. Upon hearing the question, Rarity had leapt onto a table and stomped her hoof, openly declaring that she would fight a duel in the street with any designer that tried to take the honor from her. She would have looked rather silly making a declaration like that if it hadn't been for the cheers that had gone up from Cadance, Twilight's mother, and Luna.

Thinking of her mother made Twilight’s sides throb. Twilight Velvet had knocked over at least ten other party guests to get at Twilight to wrap her in a bone-crushing hug. Twilight’s mom was a newspaper reporter, and not the sort of mare who did more than some light aerobics to keep her feminine figure, but her enthusiasm had more than made up for a lack in muscle-mass. Thankfully, Spike, Shining, and her dad had managed to pry Twilight free before she ended up in sick bay again.

The three fillies had also rushed to the front of the line of ponies wanting to offer their congratulations. They were practically in tears over having spoiled the surprise, but Cadance had just laughed and patted their heads. Cadance wasn’t the kind of girl that got angry at children, and Twilight knew she would forgive anything as long as it made for a funny story to tell later. She just gave the girls a short talking-to about the virtue of patience, and then asked that Lollipop start divvying up the cake, starting with three servings for the mischievous fillies.

It had taken seemingly forever to get through the line of ponies eager to talk to them. Once they were done greeting their guests for a second time, Cadance had given Twilight a wink and produced her book of wedding ideas, which had offered enough distraction that Twilight could slip away for a breath of fresh air.

A round of high-pitched squeals erupted from the ballroom, loud enough to silence the crickets for a few moments. Twilight shook her head, once again marveling at how little she understood mares, despite being one herself.

She looked up at the trellised roof, where thorny vines wove in and out through the grating. Twilight plucked one of the roses – a pale pink one, remarkably close to the color of Cadance’s coat – and ate it. It was no daisy sandwich, and technically nopony was supposed to eat the castle’s flowers, but she was hungry, and worn out, and nopony was watching.

“There’s food inside, you know.”

Twilight swallowed the half-chewed rosebud, coughing as one of the petals got stuck in her throat. She hacked up the obstruction and stood to greet the intruder. It might have taken her a moment or two to recognize him without his armor on, if she hadn’t heard his voice first.

“Centurion Steel Century, sir!” she said, standing at attention. “I didn’t expect you, sir!”

“None of that,” Steel Century said, batting at the air dismissively. “At ease. It’s your birthday, and besides,” he turned his head and leaned back to peer up at the banner that still announced her engagement at the front of the ballroom, “it looks like you won’t be my subordinate for much longer.”

Twilight let her posture relax a little, but she was still feeling a bit tense at the Centurion’s sudden appearance. She had been planning to tell him about the engagement in the morning, and she had been a little unprepared to see him at her party. He’d been invited, but Cadance had said he’d sent back his RSVP as ‘With Regrets’.

Steel Century walked over and took a seat next to Twilight, facing the garden. He gestured for her to do the same. He had a slight limp in his gait that Twilight had never noticed before, and Steel Century must have caught her looking.

“Old injury,” he said. He rubbed a hoof against his right side, grunting in pain as he ground his hoof into his hip muscles. “The armor helps. It’s got some fancy orthopedic adjustments – compression, support, heating charms, that sort of thing.”

“There’s a rumor going around down in the mess that you sleep in your armor, sir,” Twilight said.

The Centurion laughed. It was the deep, rumbling wheeze of a pony who’d long ago ruined his throat with a lifetime of shouting and harsh liquor.

“I’ve fallen asleep in it a time or two,” Steel Century confessed, his mouth pulled up into a surprisingly grandfatherly smile. “Sorry about crashing your party, by the by. I was on my way out of my office when the news got back to me about your betrothal. I just had to come by and pay my respects. I even brought you a bottle of Glenbooby Blue, straight from Aeryland. Best damned Aerish whiskey you can get.”

“Thank you, sir,” Twilight said, her voice still a little uneasy. She didn’t know much about whiskey – aside from that one time Luna had wrangled her into helping figure out the perfect recipe for an Aerish Coffee – but she knew Glenbooby Blue was supposed to be top shelf stuff.

“Credit where it’s due,” Steel Century said with a chuckle. “I’m sure you’ve heard from the princesses by now how the Guard got its start. The ambitions of your average enlisted might not be the same as they were back then, but nevertheless, congratulations on breaking the Guard’s thousand-year-long streak of failing to woo one of the princesses.”

“Thank you, sir,” Twilight said, feeling very much like a broken record. “Can I ask something, though? What do we do about… um…”

“Your discharge?” he asked. She nodded, so he continued. “Like I said, the Royal Guard was set up with every member hoping they’d one day get a princess to marry him. There’s procedure set up for this, but it’s old, so we might have to get a little creative. Stop by my office tomorrow and we’ll try to figure it out. Afternoon would be best – I need time to dig up those papyrus scrolls.”

Twilight blinked. “Papyrus? Really?”

“It’s some kind of old, brittle paper,” he said with a shrug. “Hay if I know what it is. Just don’t press down too hard when we fill it out and we’ll be fine.”

“That’s a load off my mind, at least,” Twilight said with a sigh. She rested her head against the support beam, letting it bear a little of her weight. “I’m going to miss it, though… being in uniform, I mean.”

“I know what you mean,” Steel Century said with a sigh of his own. “Going to be hard to hang up my armor, and not just because it helps with the limp.”

“You’ve still got a lot of years in you, though, sir,” Twilight said with a smile.

“Aye, and I’d like to spend them at home, with a grandfoal sitting on my back,” Steel Century said plainly. “Just between you, me, and the roses, I’m retiring in a few weeks.”

Twilight sat up straight. “No way,” she breathed. “Who’s going to take over your post?”

“Probably Whippoorwill,” Steel Century said. “Princess Celestia is the one that chooses the Guard Captain’s replacement when the old one steps down, but she usually takes the old Captain’s suggestion, which is almost always his Optio.”

“Wow, you’ve been the Captain of the Guard for longer than I’ve been alive,” Twilight said reverently. “It’s kind of hard to imagine anypony else holding the job.”

“Truth be told, I had actually considered it a few years back,” Steel Century clarified. “We were coming up on the millennial anniversary of the Summer Sun Celebration, though, and I wanted to be around for that… you know how that went.”

“It’s been a busy year,” Twilight said succinctly.

“And it’s not likely to get any less busy,” Steel Century said with a nod. “Not with ponies like you running around. Whippoorwill’s got quite a job ahead of him.” He eyed Twilight critically, looking her up and down with the sort of scrutiny he reserved for morning inspection. “It’s tough luck for him that you’re taking a different kind of promotion. I’ve already talked with him about it and I’m fairly certain he was set on asking you to be his Optio.”

“I would have turned it down,” Twilight said automatically. “If I were Optio, that means I wouldn’t be able to guard Princess Cadance anymore. That would be unacceptable to me.”

Steel Century sat in silence for a bit, his lips pulled into a tight little line as he mulled something over. “I would say that was a load of shit if it came out of anypony else’s mouth, but you’ve got a record of turning down promotions that didn’t take you where you wanted to be, don’t you?”

Twilight wasn’t sure what to say to that. When she’d graduated from the military academy, she’d had enough honors and certifications that she had easily qualified for a meritorious promotion right out the gate. She’d turned it down, however, because taking the promotion would have meant she wouldn’t be able to request serving in Canterlot. At the time, Canterlot didn’t have need of more Decurions, it needed Legionaries.

“It always had to be Canterlot, sir,” Twilight said after some thought.

“It all worked out for you in the end, didn’t it?” Steel Century said with a chuckle. “For what it’s worth, you would have made a great XO for him.”

“In a few years, maybe,” Twilight said. “I’m still a little green for responsibility like that.”

“It takes more than experience to be a real leader, Decurion. When it’s all gone tits-up and the wolves are at the door, you need to be the kind of pony that everypony around you knows they can count on.” He raised a hoof and pounded hard at his chest. “You need the kind of presence that lets every living thing around you know that you’re made of steel, even if the whole world’s on fire. Whippoorwill’s taken a few years to grow into it, but I think he’s got what it takes now.”

Twilight got the feeling that Steel Century wasn’t just talking about what it took to be Captain of the Guard. He knew what sort of position Twilight was marrying into, and as he looked down at her through tired, sympathetic eyes, she knew that he also understood what it was like to suddenly find yourself with more responsibility than you knew what to do with.

“You think I’ve got that in me?” she asked, maybe a little more desperately than she’d intended.

Steel Century stood, grunting in that way that old stallions did when they rose from a sitting position. “I think that a strong enough back will eventually find the weight of the world resting on it,” he said. “I'm also starting to think that you’re the kind of pony that was born to hold that kind of weight, even if you don’t see it in yourself... Enjoy the whiskey and happy birthday… Your Highness.”

Twilight blanched at the title, but the Centurion’s chuckle as he walked away told her that he was just yanking her chain. His laughter and hoofsteps stopped abruptly, and Twilight turned to see what had halted him.

Spitfire stood in the doorway leading back to the ballroom. She looked a little windswept, like she’d been flying all day, and she had a pair of saddlebags on her back.

“Centurion,” Spitfire said, nodding to the old stallion.

“Captain Spitfire,” he replied in an uncharacteristically small voice. “You’re looking well.”

“Thank you,” she said.

“I’ve been trying to get you to meet with me,” he said guardedly.

“I know,” she replied. “You didn’t make it an official request, though, so I just assumed I was free to decline, sir.”

Twilight watched as they stared at each other in tense silence. Something had happened between them, and whatever it was, it had shaken the Centurion.

Steel Century lowered his head and stepped around Spitfire, limping away hurriedly.

Spitfire sighed. “Wait,” she said.

Steel Century stopped. He didn’t turn to face her, but from the way his ears twitched and swiveled, he was listening.

“It’s okay,” Spitfire said. “I don’t blame you.”

The tension in Steel Century’s shoulders bled away, and even without seeing his face Twilight got the sense that he’d just been relieved of some great burden. He grunted softly, nodding his head almost imperceptibly, and limped away at a more relaxed pace.

“That was odd…” Twilight said aloud as she watched the exchange.

Spitfire turned back to Twilight, flashing her a pearly-white grin like nothing was amiss. “You and the princess?” she asked. “Congratulations.”

Twilight’s confusion and surprise faded to the background as anger stewed and boiled in her belly. Spitfire was going to just pretend like she hadn’t been giving her the cold-shoulder for months? Twilight wanted to ask her where she got off acting like that, but she knew that wouldn’t get her anywhere except into another brawl – though that was also pretty tempting at this point. She swallowed down her anger for the moment, letting it simmer just in case she ended up yelling at Spitfire after all.

“Thanks,” she said curtly.

“When’d it happen?”

“Week before Hearth’s Warming,” Twilight explained. From her experience inside the ballroom, she knew what question would be next before it was even asked. “I asked her.”

“Oh, yeah? You do a ring and orchestra, family gathered around, the whole nine?”

Twilight shook her head. “It was more spontaneous than that.”

Spitfire let out a clipped bark of laughter. “Hah! That’s a surprise. You're not the spontaneous type.”

“That’s what everyone’s been saying,” Twilight said with a frown. “I am the type to follow my gut, though, and my gut told me it was the right time to ask.”

“You do have good instincts,” Spitfire said in agreement.

Twilight sighed. She’d had enough pussyfooting around the issue. “Spitfire, what’s the deal?” she asked. “Why have you been ignoring me?”

Spitfire took a deep breath and closed the distance between them. She pulled off her bags and set them on the ground before taking a seat in front of Twilight, an arm’s length away.

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” Spitfire began. “I’ve had a lot of shit on my mind and I haven’t been up to talking to anypony about it… doesn’t mean I was going to miss your birthday, though.”

“I’ll take it you’re ready to talk about it now.” Twilight lifted her chin in the direction that Steel Century had gone. “It have anything to do with whatever was going on between you and the Centurion?”

“He was friends with my dad,” Spitfire said solemnly. “They went way back, and he was the one that recommended my dad as the private contractor to ferry you and your princess to Saddle Arabia. Apparently he used to throw my dad a lot of work like that.”

“How’d you find that out? Did he tell you?”

“It was in the file,” Spitfire said.

Twilight blinked. She didn’t bother asking what file Spitfire was talking about – it could only be one file. She looked around to see if anypony else was waiting in the wings to walk in on them, and decided to cast a spell to assure their privacy.

She gathered her magic in her horn and focused it on a point on the ground between her and Spitfire. Her magic formed a sphere about the size of a small marble and expanded as she steadily poured more power into the spell. It grew until it surrounded them both, slowly faded into a quavering heat-haze, and then disappeared as she finalized the spell.

“You finally got to read my report?” Twilight asked.

Spitfire nodded. “I’m sorry I was such a jerk to you,” she said apologetically, her voice thick with shame. “That was… a hay of a thing to have been keeping to yourself.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Twilight began to say, “but I’m sorry you saw that. I would have been happier if you’d never known how your dad met his end. I’m not sure why he let you read it, but I’m sure the Centurion didn’t reach that decision easily.”

“He said about as much before he would even let me open the folder,” Spitfire explained.

Twilight was suddenly extremely aware of the weight of Spitfire’s presence. Feelings of shame and regret began welling up inside Twilight, as fresh and real as they had been all those months ago. Twilight had spoken to Sky Chaser in the dream world not long after his death, and she knew for a fact that her friend didn’t blame her for it... but it wasn't his judgment she was facing now.

“I’m sorry,” Twilight said, shame burning her throat. “I was supposed to protect him…”

“Don’t do that,” Spitfire said, her tone brooking no room for argument. “We’ve been over this. I don’t blame you, and knowing what happened doesn’t change that. If anything I’m impressed you came home at all.”

“Thanks,” Twilight said, happy to hear the words again but not really feeling them in her heart just yet.

“I mean that,” Spitfire insisted. “I don’t blame any of you. There was no way you could have known what was going to happen…” Spitfire leaned forward with a hard, angry look in her eyes. “But that doesn’t mean there isn’t blame to be had. Tell me about this thing you chased after down in the mines.”

“I don’t know much, admittedly. Right now I know that it’s fast, it’s hungry, and it’s smart. But if it has ties to Anubis, my friend Basenji would know more, I’m sure of it. Sadly, he’s been about as communicative as you have these past few months. None of my letters have gotten a response.”

“That's the diamond dog you fished out of the sand in the desert?” Spitfire asked.

Twilight nodded. “He’s a drummer – a tale-keeper for his people,” she explained. “If anyone has answers, it’s him.”

“Steel Century said you think the thing from the mines is connected to what that happened in Zebrica,” Spitfire said. “I’m going to ask this plainly: if it weren’t for this monster, would my dad still be alive?”

Twilight had gone over the facts at least a thousand times in her head, establishing a timeline and poking at the events for clues, trying to see where things might be leading. Despite all the variables, there were a few things that Twilight knew for certain. She knew that Sky Chaser was dead because of Anubis’ curse, and Anubis had only unleashed his curse because he’d gone mad after being summoned and bound to a realm that he did not belong in. She also knew that she had asked the creature down in the mines if it had orchestrated the event that had led to Anubis’ binding, and the thing had all but confessed to it.

“Barring any other misfortune…” Twilight said. “Yeah, I’d say that’s a pretty good bet.”

Spitfire nodded slowly, steadily picking up steam as she went. “Yeah… yeah okay then…” She opened the satchel next to her and pulled out a present. It was just about the size of a small jewelry box, wrapped in paper bearing little Wonderbolts insignias and a poorly tied lavender bow. Spitfire placed the present on the ground between them and slid it towards Twilight. “You and I got one more bit of business, then. This is your birthday present… slash-engagement gift, I suppose.”

“Spitfire, you didn’t have to do this,” Twilight said, genuinely touched by the gesture. She reached for the gift but stopped when Spitfire put her hoof atop the box possessively.

“I did, actually,” Spitfire explained, keeping her hoof on the present like she was guarding it from thieves. “This present comes with strings attached. Consider it a bribe if that helps.”

Twilight frowned, eyeing the box suspiciously. “What are the strings?”

Spitfire’s wings flared at her side as she fixed Twilight with hard, challenging glare. “The strings are that I’m in. I know the whole thing, so there’s no reason to keep me out of this. I want in, front lines. No sidelines, no waiting back at camp, none of that. I want you to swear on everything you hold dear that you’re going to keep me in the loop, and that when you go after this filthy bastard I’m right there with you. I want to be the one that holds it down while you cut off its head.”

It was a heavy thing that Spitfire was asking of Twilight, and they both knew it. Spitfire was an officer. She knew what it was like to feel responsible for the lives that she led into a fight. No amount of assurance that it was her choice, or that she knew the risks, would make it any easier on Twilight if Spitfire got hurt, or worse, while helping Twilight in her fight. Spitfire was essentially asking Twilight to take the burden of her life onto her conscience, and that wasn’t something to accept lightly.

Twilight narrowed her eyes, studying the fierce, slightly untethered look in Spitfire’s gaze. In that look she could almost see what Spitfire had been doing these last few months. She could see Spitfire’s pain, the sleepless nights, the sorrow, and the anger at having had the opportunity to know her father stolen from her. Beyond even that, she could almost see a piece of her friend’s very heart.

Spitfire had resolved, with all of her heart and body, to make this her fight. Twilight decided that she couldn’t deny that sort of determination – not in a fellow soldier, and definitely not in a friend.

Twilight reached out her hoof and set it atop the box, right next to Spitfire’s. “You’re probably going to regret this at some point.”

Spitfire’s hoof lingered a moment longer before she hesitantly pulled it back. “I’ll regret it more if I do nothing,” she said. “Thank you.”

“I’m always glad to have you watch my back,” Twilight said, pulling the present close and holding it against her chest. “Just, please, keep a cool head.”

“As a cucumber,” Spitfire said as she stood and placed the empty bags on her back. She started walking away, and the privacy charm around them shattered into tiny, sparkling shards of magic as she crossed the threshold.

“Where are you going?” Twilight asked.

“Wonderbolts reserve training camp starts up in a few weeks,” Spitfire said as she spread her wings experimentally and fiddled with the way the saddlebags sat on her back. “We’re starting late this year, but I don’t know how long I’ll be gone, so I need to make arrangements for somepony to run the show in my absence. Soarin can command the team just fine, but he’s terrible with the paperwork. I need to find somepony to do that for him.”

“Okay,” Twilight said, annoyance creeping into her voice, “again, where are you going that you can’t run the camp yourself?”

“Zebrica,” Spitfire replied, as though it were completely obvious. “You said we need this Basenji guy, right? Write another letter and I’ll deliver it to him myself. I’ll fly over there and put it right in his paw. I’ll get a response even if I have to drag him back to Equestria kicking and screaming.”

“You’re going to fly all the way to Zebrica?”

“Flying’s about the only thing I’m really great at,” Spitfire explained. “This is something I can do to help, and it needs doing. That’s all there is to it. Congratulations again, Twi. Get that letter written. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Twilight watched as Spitfire took to the air and flew off into the night sky. She looked down at the gift she now held against her chest. The strings that Spitfire had attached to the gift had been thick, and Twilight couldn’t help but wonder what Spitfire thought was a good enough gift to warrant the sort of promise she’d asked Twilight to make.

Twilight undid the bow – which was more of a knot than a bow – and unwrapped the gift, disposing of the paper with a flash of fire magic. It took her a moment to recognize the wooden box in her hooves, but when she did she almost dropped it in shock.

The last time she’d seen this box had been the day that she and Spitfire had become friends. The dark-stained wood had been covered in black, greasy scorch marks, and the latch and hinges had melted from the flames of the wreckage it had been recovered from.

Now, the scorch marks had been carefully buffed and polished away, and the melted fasteners had been replaced with shiny new brass ones. Twilight opened the box, and the scent of orange-flavored tobacco filled her senses. Sky Chaser’s pipe sat in the box, tightly nestled between a carton of matches and a drawstring pouch of tobacco.

Spitfire had undersold the value of what she’d given to Twilight. This pipe was all that was left of Spitfire’s inheritance – the only link she still had to her father.

This wasn’t just a bribe, this was an offering. It was a symbol of what it meant to Spitfire to be a part of the search for the thing that had indirectly orchestrated her father’s murder.

“Oh, Spitfire,” Twilight muttered as tears began welling up in her eyes. “How could I have said no to this?”


* * *

> Chapter 10 - Return to Sender
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The heat of spring bore down on Spitfire with full midday strength as she touched down on the tarmac of an airfield just outside of Zanzebra. She glanced around, noting that every lot and hangar on the field looked occupied, but there was a distinct lack of crew working the maintenance or dealing with freight. A bead of sweat rolled down her forehead and into her eye, and as she rubbed at it she realized that the crews were probably all aboard their ships or inside one of the hangar buildings – anything to get out of the damned heat.

Near one of the hangars she spied an old well pump. She made a beeline for it and shoved a nearby bucket under the spigot as she shrugged the bags off her back. She worked the pump, grunting with the effort it took to move the rusted handle, until the water began flowing. As soon as it was filled she dunked her head into the water. It was cold and refreshing, so she held her head in the bucket until her lungs forced her to surface for air. She took what was left and dumped it over her head.

“Burrr, needed that,” she muttered to herself as she shook her mane out of her face. She filled the bucket again and began filling the canteens in her saddlebags.

It had taken a few more days than she’d expected to get her house in order. Ponies in positions like hers didn’t get a lot of freedom to drop everything for personal matters. The trip overseas had taken a day and a half, and then another day over land to get to Zanzebra. All said and done, she’d arrived in Zanzebra almost a full week later than she had wanted to.

She sighed as she finished refilling her water supply. There was still a little bit of the precious life-giving liquid in the bucket, so she upended it over her head a second time. She’d stopped earlier in the morning to scrub away a few days worth of travel-sweat in a shallow stream she’d found while flying over the savanna, but without soap, and with the heat being what it was, it was a losing battle against the nasty, greasy feeling in her coat.

Spitfire put her saddlebags back on and looked around. There were a few restaurants and office buildings mixed in amongst the hangars, and in the distance she could see large buildings with signs that read “Hotel” in various languages.

The building that caught her eye, though, was a squat wooden shack that looked like it was pieced together out of old scrapped airships. It wasn’t numbered like the hangars, and there was no writing on it like on the administration buildings. Instead, a neon-lighted beer bottle sat on the roof, flickering and glowing dully in the daylight.

By the time Spitfire had crossed the hot tarmac she was already dry from her improvised bath. The door to the bar was one of those airtight deals that looked like it had been ripped straight out of the bulkhead of an old ship, and judging from the amount of rust on it, the hatch had seen its share of time out at sea. In the early days of airships, before the things were built from the ground up, the gondolas had been kludged together out of old sea-faring boats with wheels and balloons practically duct-taped to them. The door had probably come out of one of those unlicensed wildcat ships built by some backyard tinkerer.

The wheel looked like it was spun open, so Spitfire gave the hatch an experimental shove with her hoof and it moved a few inches, letting out a blast of near-freezing conditioned air that sent a pleasant shiver down her spine. She put her shoulder into it and the door swung open enough for her to slip inside, creaking on the hinges the whole way. The creak announced her presence like one of those bells shopkeepers hang above the door, and once she was inside she found herself getting checked out by nearly every gin-soaked balloon jockey in the place.

The place was as about as packed as she’d been expecting, with a good mix of races from every corner of the globe. Zanzebra was one of the most well-known trade centers in the hemisphere because the skies above it were a confluence of several major jet streams. Riding a high-altitude stream was the best way to get somewhere far away because if you were smart enough to hitch onto the right draft, it saved on fuel, time, and cut down on work for the navigator.

The sea of faces watched her enter with varying levels of interest. A few of the patrons had recognized her, judging from the looks on their faces, and the chatter was starting to go around the bar as word of who she was started making the rounds. Spitfire tried not to let the swell of pride in her chest make it all the way to her head. Normally she would be all over the attention, working the crowd with her stories and flirting a few drinks out of her audience, but she had a job to do.

Spitfire pressed her back hoof against the door, kicking it closed with a hard buck that stung her hoof but probably looked sufficiently cool for an entrance. The fluorescent lights were working, but not well, and closing the door dropped room’s lighting back down to a level more appropriate to drinking. The old radio behind the bar was warbling something that sounded half like throat-singing and half like unintelligible ululating out of its one good speaker. The music was inscrutable, but it was fighting valiantly to fill the room with ambient noise other than the loud hum of an industrial-grade air-conditioner. This sort of bar was all about the ambiance, whether it was intentional or not, and everything from the shitty lighting to the girly-posters and broken floorboards shouted that the theme of the place was ‘Tough-Guy Chic’. It was the sort of bar that discouraged tourism – an oasis for air-jockeys with no room for outsiders – and Spitfire already liked the place.

Spitfire sauntered her way across the room, trying to project the air of somepony that didn’t want to be disturbed. Most of the patrons caught on to her and returned to their drinks and previous conversations, but a few either couldn’t read her body language or just didn’t care. Some of the guys nodded, some tilted their drinks. A griffon lioness standing over by the dart board whistled softly at her, shooting her a wink and clicking her beak twice sharply in the griffon approximation of kissy-noises.

Despite the packed seating area, the barstools were all unoccupied. Spitfire raised an eyebrow at that, but as she hopped up onto one of the seats and spun around to face the barkeep, she got a pretty good idea of why everyone avoided crowding the bar.

The barkeep was a unicorn stallion, a big one at that, and he sat on a stool behind the bar, his back turned to the room as he held an open newspaper in a field of teal-colored magic. Everything from his size, to his look, to the way he sat, communicated that he would have been just as happy with an empty bar as a full one. His bristly mane was cut short in that zebra style that made him look like he was sporting one of those crested galeas the Royal Guard wore. Judging from the haircut and the faint black stripes in his lime-green coat, he was probably half zebra. It was an uncommon mix back in Equestria, but in a trade town like this that sort of miscegenation was way more prevalent.

She tapped her hoof on the bar to get his attention.

“Drink?” he asked simply, his voice a deep baritone.

Spitfire considered declining and getting straight to the point. After a half-second of hesitation she ordered a drink, partly for the taste, and partly because that’s just how things were done when you were looking for information in this sort of dive.

“House special,” Spitfire said, equally simply.

“Ain’t nothing special about it,” the stallion explained. He didn’t even bother looking from his newspaper as he opened a refrigerator and magicked a bottle out. His magic popped off the cap and poured her drink into a mug.

“Thanks,” she said as she took a swig. It was cold and tasted like beer. It would do. “Looking for somebody. Think you could give me a hoof?”

“This somebody a pilot?”

“Nah, he’s a diamond dog, goes by Basenji,” Spitfire clarified.

“Then I don’t know him,” the barkeep said with a dismissive sniff.

Spitfire took another drink, swishing the brew around in her mouth like a rinse as she tried to squash the sudden rise in her blood pressure at the stallion’s rudeness. She was about to try again when someone hopped up on the stool right next to her and butted into the conversation.

“Ay, don’t be like that, Sahib,” the griffoness from earlier said with a disapproving cluck of her tongue. “You sure you ain’t never heard of this Basenji?”

“I don’t know anybody’s name,” he replied curtly.

“That’s just not true,” the griffoness said. “You know my name, and I know you know Spitfire’s name.”

The stallion barkeep made a rude noise with his mouth. “I know your name, Gale, because that ironclad liver of yours is going to put my future children through university. And everyone knows Spitfire’s name.”

The stallion tilted his head towards a bulletin board a little off to the side of the bar. It was crowded with old flyers and posters from air shows. Right in the middle of that mess of papers was a calendar that Spitfire recognized. It was from a few years ago and the page wasn’t even opened to the right month. The picture on the calendar was of Spitfire, along with a couple of the other lady Wonderbolts, playing volleyball together on a sunny beach. The Bolts had done that little bit of publicity for charity the same year she’d made the team as a rookie. She had the same calendar on a stack in her trophy room back home, and knew that the month right after that one had a hilarious pin-up of Soarin lying on a heart-shaped bed, dressed up as a firefighter and holding a rose between his teeth.

It was a little funny to see one of her publicity shots so far from Equestria, but it did make some sense. The Wonderbolts did a lot of goodwill shows in foreign nations, and some of their biggest fans were other professional flyers.

For a moment, she wondered if her dad might have had the same calendar hanging up somewhere on his ship. They’d been estranged, but he’d kept tabs enough to send her a birthday card every year, so it wouldn’t be farfetched to think he might own some merchandise with her face on it. She felt a little rush of heat in her cheeks at the realization that, if her dad owned that particular calendar, it meant he’d seen the pose she’d done for the month that Hearts and Hooves Day fell on.

“Course I’ve heard of Spitfire,” the barkeep said. “There’s not a flyboy in the sky that doesn’t know her name. I got a poster of her above my bunk to chase away the lonely nights, same as everyone else.”

The rest of the bar must have been eavesdropping, because a roar of laughter washed over the room. The sudden laughter was enough to jar the barkeeper out of his state of disinterest. He set down his paper and turned to see what had everyone in stitches.

A grin slowly spread across Spitfire’s face as she watched the barkeep’s expression run the gamut of emotion. His annoyed frown slowly waned as he lowered his gaze to the young mare he’d just been talking to, and his brow knitted in confusion for a moment, like he’d recognized her but couldn’t place the face with a name straightaway – which probably said a lot about what he used the aforementioned poster for. His brow shot up in surprise as he finally figured out who she was, and the corners of his lips pulled up into an eager smile. The smile died immediately as he realized what he’d just inadvertently admitted to her face.

Spitfire chuckled into her mug at the sight of the huge stallion blushing like a schoolboy. “Always nice to meet a fan,” she said as she took a drink. She licked the beer off her upper lip a little slower than she needed to, and smacked her lips with a sigh of satisfaction. “Now then, if you wanted to think a little harder and see if you couldn’t point me in the direction of the nearest diamond dog burrow, that’d be just swell.”


* * *


Basenji looked up from the book in his lap to the dog sitting across from him. He’d become so engrossed in the book that he’d forgotten that he’d been visiting with his uncle Akita. They were sitting on a big mat made of woven reeds that his uncle dragged out of the corner whenever company came to visit. Akita’s wife was out, and his daughter, Djembe, was likely up on the surface, so when Basenji heard his uncle’s voice he knew that Akita must have been talking to him.

“I’m sorry, what?” Basenji said, blinking owlishly at his uncle.

In a pack that was known for having some pretty large dogs, Akita still managed to stand out from the crowd. Akita was Basenji’s father’s younger brother, and despite his size he had a soft-spoken, kindly personality – likely a result of being born runty and having been something of a late-bloomer, according to Basenji’s father.

“I was wondering what you were reading,” Akita said as he studied the enormous chunk of amethyst he held. He lifted the other paw and started to scratch at it with incredibly precise care. “That’s the thing you came over to get, isn’t it?”

“This is a journal that Djembe wanted me to read,” Basenji said as he closed the book in question and held it up. It was a plain hardcover book with a blue cover, a few hundred pages thick. “I gave it to her to practice writing songs in and she wanted me to look over some of what she’s written.”

Akita ceased his etching and looked up from his project, his eyebrows lifted in surprise. “She’s been writing songs? Already?”

“Oh yes,” Basenji said with a nod. “She’s not ready to write songs about our people’s history, but apprentices need all the practice they can get. Didn’t you ever see my father sketching out song ideas when he was training?”

“Not really, no,” Akita said, scratching at his temple. “I have no talent in the Ways, not even a marginal one, and so I never paid much attention to Saluki’s craft. What did she write about?”

“Small things,” Basenji answered, flipping through the pages at random. “Things like sewing, the weather, boys, and songs about writing songs. One day she’ll write songs that matter, but right now she’s just learning how to put a story into words.”

“Are they any good?” Akita asked. He set down his art project – a half completed statuette of Djembe’s mother – and reached his long arms out to pluck the journal out of Basenji’s paws.

Basenji pulled the book away and gave an apologetic smile in response to his uncle’s look of confusion. “She asked me not to let you see them,” he explained, laughing nervously. “She’s still a little self-conscious about her craft. She didn’t even want to be in the same room with me when I read them.”

“Oh, I suppose that’s fine,” Akita said stoically, but the look in his eyes said he was more than a little disappointed.

“They’re very good, though,” Basenji said, hoping that a good boost to his fatherly pride might make him feel better. “She’s mastered classical structure in very short order and she’s doing some interesting experimental things with her prosody.”

Akita furrowed his brow, his tail thumping slowly on the ground behind him as he tried to parse Basenji’s assessment. Basenji had seen the look before. His family had produced a long line of drummers – many of them powerful and prolific – but even in such a line there were dogs who had little interest in scholarly pursuits.

“I see,” Akita nodded, his long tail swishing happily behind him. “She is my daughter, after all.”

“As you say, uncle,” Basenji said with a laugh.

“Bah, fine, laugh at your poor uncle,” Akita said with a grin. “Your father used to laugh at me as well. I suppose you can fill in for him in that, as you have in his larger duties.”

Basenji bowed his head respectfully.

“Hm, still,” Akita continued with a shrug, “I wish Saluki would come back already. I feel uneasy with him being in that place.” Akita picked up his jewel and returned to his carving, adding to the small pile of dust and shavings in his lap. “If the Old Dogs sealed that city, it was for a reason… It certainly did your brother no favors.”

Basenji sighed. After discussing what had happened with envoys from Equestria, Saddle Arabia, and Zebrica, it had been decided that the matter of what had happened in the Necropolis should be kept secret. Even in their pack, the only dogs who knew the whole truth were Basenji, Dingo, Saluki, and Shiba.

There had been no bodies to dispose of. The nightmares conjured by Anubis’ curse had left nothing but blood and tattered rags, and agents of the three nations involved in the cover-up had cleaned away what little remained before the excavation team had been allowed into the city.

“It’s safe now,” Basenji insisted. “If there was anything to be sealed away, it’s already left that place. Father believes that as well, else he would never have gone there.”

Akita’s paw went still, but his eyes remained fixed on his work, as though he was contemplating setting it down again. “The whole pack knows something happened there – it must have. Nodog questions it, though, and we don’t dare voice our suspicions, because it’s to do with the Old Dogs, and that makes it drummer business. We may not understand the Ways as you do, but we know to leave drummer business to drummers.” Akita covered the half-finished carving of his wife, cradling it preciously with both paws as though he were shielding the image from what he was about to say. He leaned forward, a sad look in his eyes. “A madness took your brother from us, and when you brought him back, it left him hollow inside… If I must be honest, you must have left something of yourself there, as well. There’s something sad in you, and I worry my big brother will be changed by whatever has changed his sons.”

“That city is dead, uncle,” Basenji said as he broke eye contact with his uncle. “There is a lot that you haven’t been told, but trust me when I say that that place is no danger now. There is nothing there but bones.”

“It’s not just a matter of trust, pup. The pack was damned frightened of what happened to your brother… We’re dogs. We can crush diamond with our fangs and shatter granite with our paws, but ghost and shadows? The Ways? You can’t fight that with fang or claw. Drummers don’t know what it’s like to be powerless. The things you know, the things you can do, they make even the strongest of us feel helpless.”

Basenji rested a paw atop the drum at his side. It was strange to have such an enormously powerful dog praise his strength. Intellectually, Basenji knew that he had power, but it was another thing entirely to hear it from somedog else.

Akita was wrong, however. Back in the Necropolis, Basenji's very faith in the Old Dogs had been shaken. He had been surrounded on all sides by literal nightmares, standing upon the bloodied ground where an unknown number of his fellow dogs had given up their lives, and he’d believed himself damned by the very creator of his kind. For the briefest, most terrifying of moments, he’d given up. He’d felt powerless.

But he hadn’t been alone.

“I know well what it means to feel helpless, uncle,” Basenji confessed. “But it was a good experience, I think. From it I learned that feeling helpless is not the same as being helpless. Fear can rob us of our sense, but we mustn’t let it.”

A smile played across Akita’s features, and his chest rumbled with a deep chuckle. “You’re hardly the same pup who got his tail caught in a rat trap and cried for an hour.”

“Ah, that was very long ago,” Basenji said, shifting uncomfortably.

“I wonder if my little Djembe will ever be the type to say wise things,” Akita wondered aloud as he started carving again.

“I believe she will,” Basenji said. “Wisdom always finds those who seek it.”

The front door opened suddenly, flying open with a clang of iron against stone as the door slammed against the wall. Djembe stood in the doorway, panting slightly.

“Basenji!” she shouted. “I have been looking for you! There’s a pony up on the surface who says she’s here to see you.”

Basenji blinked. He had a few pony friends in the city, but they never visited. “Who is it?”

“She says her name is Spitfire,” Djembe said.

“I don’t know anyone named Spitfire,” Basenji said, stroking his chin thoughtfully. “At least I don’t think I do. Did she say what she wants?”

“She only told us her name and that she’ll only speak to you.” Djembe threw back her head and sighed with the sort of throaty groan that only the young could make without shame. “Just come on!”

Djembe turned and ran down the tunnel in the direction of the stairs leading to the surface, not even bothering to close the door behind herself in her haste.

“She was pretty worked up,” Akita commented. “Must be important.”

“Well, you know how excitable Djembe is,” Basenji said as he stood. “There’s no telling how important it actually is until I get up there and see for myself.”

“True enough,” Akita said with a shrug.

Basenji was almost to the door when something occurred to him. He turned back to find that his uncle had set aside the carving and was already reaching for the journal that he’d left on the floor. His uncle noticed him watching and quickly sat back down, trying to look innocent.

“You’ll see to it that gets back to her room, yes?” Basenji said.

“Of course,” Akita said with a nod.

“And by the way… you’re wrong about Dingo,” Basenji added. “Dingo isn’t hollow. If anything, he has too much inside of himself.”

Akita furrowed his brow and his tail began thumping the ground impatiently as he mulled that over. After a moment he merely shrugged. “Drummer business,” he said simply as he reached for the journal and began flipping through the pages.


* * *


Spitfire sat under the boughs of a tree, leaning against the trunk and taking minor refuge from the heat as she waited for the skittish girl with the yellow cloak to fetch this Basenji character. She yawned, as much out of boredom as weariness, and watched the stairs for sign that anyone might be coming.

The big dog that had been with the little female stood halfway between her and the stairs, watching her and trying to look impressive as he held his spear at the ready. She returned his wary stare with one of disinterest.

“You should relax, buddy,” Spitfire said, breaking the silence between them. “I get that you’re on the job but I’m just here to see a dog about a pony. I’m not looking to cause any trouble.”

“Chaga is guard,” the guard – who was named Chaga, apparently – said in very rough Equish as he thumped the butt of his spear on the ground.

Spitfire rolled her eyes. She lifted the flap of her saddlebag with a wing and rooted around for her canteen. Fresh out of the ground, the water had been cool and refreshing, but a few hours in a canteen had warmed it considerably.

Spitfire held out the canteen and shook it, sloshing the liquid around in the metal container. “Drink?” she asked the guard dog. He eyed the canteen but decided to hold his post wordlessly. “More for me,” Spitfire said with a shrug.

A bark echoed up from the stairwell, drawing their attention, and a few moments later the girl with the yellow cloak joined them on the surface. She stopped to catch her breath for a few seconds. She and Chaga shared a few words in their language before the girl turned to Spitfire.

“Basenji is coming,” she said, her Equish leaps and bounds better than the guard’s but still a little rough. “He will be here quickly. My name is Djembe, Basenji is my cousin.”

“Thank you, Djembe,” Spitfire said. She shook the canteen. “Drink?”

Djembe blinked at the offer. “Ah, no, thank you,” she said, shooting a questioning glance as Chaga.

The bigger dog shrugged and the motion was so slight that Spitfire barely caught the movement of his shoulders under his armor.

Spitfire raised an eyebrow at the furtive little glances the two dogs were shooting one another. She’d followed the directions the barkeep had given her and reached the burrow in just a little over an hour. When she’d touched down she’d found these two sitting together under the tree, talking to each other all friendly-like. She hadn’t thought anything of it at the time, but now she was starting to get the vibe that these two dogs might have a thing.

“Heh, you two are cute,” Spitfire said, gesturing her hoof back and forth between them. “Been together long?” She chuckled throatily at the dumbstruck looks that came over them. “Judging from the looks on your faces, I’d say no.”

The rest of their wait passed in silence as the two dogs tried to look at anything that wasn’t Spitfire or one another. Spitfire just sipped her water and smiled at them like a cat watching a pair of canaries squirm in a cage.

Djembe and Chaga’s ears pricked up, drawing their attention towards the stairs as their superior dog hearing picked up the sound of someone approaching.

Spitfire put away her canteen and stood to greet the dog she’d traveled thousands of miles to see.

Basenji didn’t cut nearly as imposing a figure as Chaga did. While Chaga could have easily towered above any non-alicorn Spitfire had ever seen, Basenji wasn’t much larger than a big stallion. He wore a cloak like the one Djembe had, only a deep green color, and he had a satchel and drum hanging from straps at his side that – according to the report she’d read – marked his profession as a drummer. She hadn’t met many diamond dogs, but she guessed that he was probably still fairly young – probably pretty close to her age, actually.

This dog definitely didn’t look like a fighter, but if Twilight was right, they didn’t need him for his physical prowess. All the same, Spitfire couldn’t help but feel a twinge of disappointment as she watched him walk past the other two dogs to join her under the tree.

“You’re Basenji?” she asked.

“Yes, I am Basenji,” he replied, dipping his head in a respectful nod that Spitfire returned as a reflex. “You are Spitfire? I do not believe we are acquainted. What business could you have with me?”

“I’m here to deliver you a letter,” Spitfire said as she rooted in her bags for the scroll Twilight had given her. “You need to learn how to answer your mail. This is the third one you’ve been sent.”

“From whom?” Basenji asked, cocking his head in surprise.

She found the scroll and held it out between her teeth. “Twilight Sparkle,” she answered.

Basenji grabbed the scroll and tore the wax seal off with a flick of his claw. “Twilight Sparkle has sent you?” he asked hurriedly as he unrolled the letter and scanned the pages. “She has been attempting to contact me? Is she well? Is something wrong?”

“It’s in the letter,” Spitfire replied. Judging from his reaction, he probably hadn’t gotten the other letters Twilight had sent – which was good, since it meant that he wasn’t purposefully ignoring Twilight’s call for help.

Basenji worked his way through the note and the color slowly bled from his face as he read. Halfway through the note his legs gave out from under him and he fell on his rump. Djembe and Chaga made a move to rush to his side but he waved them back without lifting his eyes from the page.

“Is this true?” he asked tremulously as he reached the bottom of the letter.

“I didn’t read it,” Spitfire admitted, “but that is from Twilight, so whatever’s in that letter is as good as her word.”

Basenji sat on the ground, his eyes unfocused as he stared at the letter he held gently between his paws. Suddenly, a flash of anger came over him, and he crunched the scroll up in a fist.

“Please wait here,” Basenji said as he stood and shoved the letter roughly into his satchel. “I will need to speak to someone, but I will join you again soon.”

Spitfire blinked at the heated look in Basenji’s eyes. She wasn’t sure what Twilight had written in that letter, but this guy looked absolutely livid. “Uh, you got it, bub, I’ll be right here.”

Basenji turned without another word and stalked back towards the stairs at a jog. The two younger dogs must have noticed the change in his demeanor as well. They followed after him, barking and whining worriedly in their native tongue. Basenji ignored them as he hurried towards the stairs. Considering Chaga was concerned enough to walk away from his post to follow, Spitfire guessed that Basenji wasn’t the type to get angry like this often. There was an old saying that warned to be careful of someone who was slow to anger, and in Spitfire’s experience it held water.

“Wait here, he says,” Spitfire muttered as she wiped the sweat from her forehead. “How can it be so much hotter here? It’s the same sun as in Equestria. Celestia must hate this place.”

Spitfire looked around and realized with a start that she wasn’t as alone as she’d thought. Another diamond dog sat a short distance away, at the edge of a cliff overlooking the forest valley to the north, staring off into the far distance. She’d seen him when she’d flown in, but he’d been so quiet, so still, that she had completely forgotten about his presence. Even now, looking directly at him, he was more like a statue than a living thing.

The quiet dog was a little bigger than Basenji, but not by much, and his frame was far leaner. He wore a traveling cloak, like the one that Basenji and Djembe had, but it was tan-colored, as bland and unassuming as the dog that wore it.

“Hey!” she called out. “What’s up?”

The dog remained unresponsive save for a flick of his tail that tossed up a little cloud of dust and dry grass. Were it not for that slight bit of movement, she might have gone back to the theory that she was looking at a statue overlooking the valley, like a gargoyle perched atop an old building.

“Hey, I’m talking to you!” she shouted a little more forcefully. He continued to be unresponsive so she sat back under the tree with a huff. She began rummaging through her pack for something to eat while she waited. “Leave me alone up here, in the heat, with a deaf dog… This guy better be worth the hassle.”


* * *


“Wait here,” Basenji said firmly as he turned a corner and the door to Shiba’s den came into view.

Djembe and Chaga had followed him the whole way from the surface. He hadn’t spoken a word to either of them to this point, and halfway to Chaga’s den they had stopped trying to get a response from him. The suddenness with which he broke the silence must have been enough to shock them into compliance.

“Talker Basenji,” Chaga began, his voice steady but strained with worry, “this is Alpha Shiba’s den. Is… Should I come with you?”

“Wait here,” Basenji repeated.

The door to Shiba’s den was the same iron as every other door in the burrow, but his position as the pack’s alpha was reflected in the diamond embedded in it at eye-level. It was a useless piece of ostentation, given that Shiba’s den had its own tunnel, so you were very unlikely to knock on the wrong door.

Basenji turned the handle and shoved the door open without knocking. Because every dog was capable of easily digging through the walls of another dog’s den, entering without announcing yourself or gaining permission was the height of insult.

Shiba, to his credit, didn’t appear startled to have his door thrown open unannounced. He was sitting in front of a hearth with fire stones burning beneath a cauldron large enough to feed a whole family. He was holding a clay bowl in one paw and feeding his face, as he always was whenever Basenji saw him.

“You’re not one to be rude,” Shiba said as he dumped the contents of the bowl back into the cauldron, “so I assume you must have a good excuse for invading my privacy.”

“I don’t want to hear that out of your fat, ignorant face,” Basenji spat out. “You’ve invaded my privacy enough that you can hardly blame me for doing the same in turnabout.”

Shiba looked up at the ceiling, his head quirked to the side. “Invaded your… Is this about your mail again?”

“You know it is!” Basenji snapped. “A messenger brought me another letter just now.” He dug into his satchel and pulled out the missive, clenching it in his fist as he shook the paper. “This is from Twilight Sparkle – the third such letter from her. You probably read the other two, so I can only assume you know exactly what’s in this one. Why would you do something so stupid as to keep this from me?”

“Because it’s none of your business,” Shiba said coolly. He reached for a long steel ladle and began stirring whatever was in the pot. “Forget about that letter.”

“None of my business?” Basenji asked. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. For all the insults he was hurling, Basenji knew that Shiba wasn’t actually as stupid as he was acting. “How can you say that? You were there when I explained to my father what happened to Dingo. You were there when we discussed the possibility that the perpetrator of that heinous act was still at large. Twilight Sparkle has confirmed the existence of such a thing and tells us it’s in Equestria, and you think, for even a second, that this isn’t my business!?”

Shiba growled angrily, baring his teeth as he threw the ladle against the wall, making a mess as the soup he’d been scooping spilled on the floor.

“I don’t give a cat’s ass about what happens in Equestria and neither should you!” Shiba barked as he rose to his full height, attempting to bring his size into the discussion. “There’s some monster running around eating the horses? Good! Let it fill its belly on them until it bursts! There’s an ocean between it and us, and that makes it their problem, not ours! Now stop questioning my leadership and get back to your duties to the pack!”

Basenji narrowed his eyes, refusing to be cowed by the display. “I told you once before that you didn’t even know what my duties were, and your words prove that beyond all doubt,” Basenji said. “Don’t question your leadership? You don’t lead me – I’m a drummer. You have no right to interfere in my affairs.”

Basenji shoved the letter back into his satchel and turned to walk away.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Shiba demanded. “We’re not finished.”

“Yes we are,” Basenji replied without turning to give Shiba the respect of telling him off to his face. “I’m going to Equestria. A drummer goes where he is needed, and our sister needs my power.”

“You will not leave,” Shiba growled in warning, “or I will break your legs right now. You should still be able to drum with only your forepaws, right?”

Basenji snickered. “I’m not afraid of you, Shiba. I never have been and I never will be. I can count on one paw the dogs strong enough to possibly face you equally in a fight, but I know at least two of them that hold me in higher esteem than they do you. One of them is my uncle and the other is standing outside in the hallway. Neither of them will be very happy to see harm come to me.”

No further threats came his way, so Basenji walked to the door.

“Basenji, wait… please.”

Basenji froze as he heard the alpha’s pleading tone. Shiba had always been a proud dog, bordering on arrogance. Basenji had never before heard him say the word “please” with sincerity.

Shiba was on the ground, on his knees with his forepaws flat on the ground. He looked panicked – frightened, even. “Please,” he repeated. “Please stay.”

“Shiba… I’ve… I’ve never seen you beg before.”

“Do you think I want to?” Shiba asked. “I’m doing this for our pack. Saluki is in that forsaken tomb of a city, Djembe is a child, and Dingo is insane. If you leave, then we have nodog here who can defend us. What if this monster decides to come for us the way it came for Dingo and those other dogs? It came to them in their dreams. It manipulated Great Anubis himself! You can’t leave us at its mercy… please. I can’t defend this pack without your help.”

As Basenji watched the huge alpha plead for him to stay, the words his uncle had spoken to him less than an hour before rang in his ears.

“Drummers don’t know what it’s like to be powerless. The things you know, the things you can do, they make even the strongest of us feel helpless.”

All at once Shiba’s actions and attitude these past few months made sense. He was a very traditional alpha, using his size and strength to intimidate any member of the pack he wasn’t able to reason with. Shiba must have known that he wouldn’t be able to get his way by reasoning with Basenji, so he had simply done what he always did when his words failed him – he shortened the leash and hoped he could frighten the dissident into shape.

Shiba had been afraid. He was the leader of their pack, and so the truth of what had happened had been revealed to him in full. He hadn’t been shielded from the terrifying reality of the events like the rest of the pack, and the story must have unnerved him to his very core. Shiba was strong, he was a great fighter, and he was a leader – but none of his strength or skill or leadership could stand up against an enemy that could best a god. Akita had said it well when he'd said that claw and fang meant nothing to entities that commanded shadows and nightmares. Only the Ways could protect the pack, and only drummers knew the Ways.

Basenji had never liked Shiba, but he’d never hated him. He stepped up to the big alpha and placed a paw on his shoulder reassuringly.

“Stand, please,” Basenji urged him. Shiba did as he was asked. “I must leave. If this entity has taken root in Equestria, I have to believe that it’s done so for a reason. I cannot allow it to go unchecked. I don’t believe this is merely a threat to our pack. This is a threat to all dogs. To all beings in this world.”

“There must be somedog else who can go,” Shiba said. “Perhaps Saluki can be convinced, or maybe a drummer from another pack.”

“Another drummer might prove equal to the task, but I was the one who was called,” Basenji said with a shake of his head. “I am already involved, and so must see this thing through until the end.”

Shiba looked like he wanted to argue more, but he gave a resigned nod of his head and gently brushed Basenji’s paw off his shoulder. He went to where his ladle had landed and picked it up, shaking it dry and wiping it clean on his vest – which itself was fairly dirty.

“Why do you have to be so pigheaded?” Shiba asked as he scooped stew into his bowl.

Basenji smirked. “I was just thinking the same thing about you,” he quipped. As he left, Basenji added, “If something does go wrong, send for my father.”

Shiba waved a paw dismissively, so focused on his stew that he couldn’t even manage a proper goodbye. “Stay safe,” he muttered, barely loud enough to be heard over the shrieking hinges of his door.


* * *


Saluki’s den was one-part living space, one-part library. Basenji’s own collection had never grown very large, simply because he’d always had access to his father’s personal library. Saluki had spent a lifetime collecting books and stories, and himself penning more than a few.

The history of dogs was long and well-remembered. A drummer was expected to know hundreds of songs of varying length and complexity, but there were more songs than that many times over. Older songs, and songs that were less relevant to modern times, were written down in a sort of short-script that only drummers could read.

Basenji stood in front of one of his father’s bookshelves, flipping through a paw-written songbook with brittle, yellowing pages that had been written by his great-great-grandmother. He huffed in exasperation and set the book back on the shelf. He pulled a few more volumes down, making the iron shelves groan at the change in their burden, and piled them on the floor next to him.

“I don’t understand this,” Djembe said from behind him. “How can you be leaving again?”

“Twilight Sparkle needs my help,” Basenji replied.

“And just like that you’re leaving again?” Djembe asked. “What do we do if somedog comes in need of your wisdom?”

“That doesn’t often happen,” Basenji said with a shrug. “But if somedog needs guidance, they will find it. I was just telling somedog today that wisdom finds those who seek it.”

Djembe scoffed and crossed her arms over her chest haughtily. “That’s not something I want to hear from the dog that’s supposed to be my teacher. What about my training, huh? Who’s going to train me?”

Basenji looked up from his sorting and lifted an eyebrow. He swept the room with a paw, indicating the room they were in and the many shelves filled with books around them.

“You can read,” Basenji quipped, “I don’t think you’ll have to look very far for the wisdom you seek.”

“I don’t need books, I need a teacher,” Djembe snapped. She stomped the ground petulantly and uncrossed her arms enough to recross them more firmly. “If you are leaving then I will leave as well.”

“You’re not coming,” Basenji stated authoritatively. “And you don’t need me to hold your paw through the rest of your lessons. You’re already very near the end of your training. You can complete it on your own.”

“And how am I supposed to know when I’m finished, eh?” she countered.

“You’ll know.”

“How?”

“Because you’ll be finished,” Basenji said, shrugging again as he returned to scanning through the books.

He had to fight to keep the smile off his face as he led the poor girl in circles. Was it maybe a little mean to be so vague with his apprentice? It certainly was, but it was also tradition – and fun, great, great fun. It was every apprentice’s dream to one day be in a position to be just as obnoxiously vague and mysterious as their own master was to them, and Basenji wanted to wring a few more minutes of that out of his cousin before he set off on his journey.

“Well then I’m finished now,” Djembe said, “I’ve just decided it.”

Basenji smiled. “Do you really believe that?”

Djembe threw back her head and groaned. “Argh, why do you have to be so difficult?”

“You’ll understand when you’re older~” Basenji sang.

“Now you’re just being a jerk.”

Basenji laughed as he stuffed a couple of small songbooks into his satchel. He left the pile of books on the floor and started browsing another case. There were several more piles scattered around the room.

“Do this jerk a favor and put those books away for me, please,” he said. “Spitfire is waiting and I have to leave as soon as Chaga returns with the things I sent him for.”

Djembe hesitated, but after a moment of indecision she stepped forward and began organizing the shelves. She put the books back in order almost faster than Basenji had taken them down. Part of her early training under Saluki had been to organize the collection of books, and Basenji had to admit that her system was much better than the one Saluki had taught him, which was less of a system than a general policy of putting the books wherever they fit.

“I still don’t understand why I can’t come with you,” she said. 

“Because you’re not ready to carry this sort of burden,” Basenji explained gently. “There may be an element of danger, and I don’t think your father would appreciate me dragging you into something like that.”

“All the more reason that I should come with you,” Djembe insisted. “You might need help. I’m a drummer, too. If there is a need for my skill then shouldn’t I also go?”

“Even if you were finished with your training, I wouldn’t want you involved in this,” Basenji said.

“This is about what happened to Dingo, right?” Djembe asked, her voice lowered to a half-whisper. “Twilight Sparkle was there when you found him, and now she’s calling you on business so urgent that you’re dropping everything to rush to her side… It wasn’t just a sickness, was it? Something… something hurt Dingo, didn’t it?”

Basenji took a deep breath, held it, and let it out with a long sigh. He could lie to her, but she was smart enough to know he was doing it. “Yes,” he said, deciding that that much truth couldn’t hurt.

“And now you’re going to go after it.”

Basenji placed another book into the satchel at his side. “Yes.”

Basenji felt his younger cousin wrap her arms around him as she buried her face into his chest.

“I don’t want you to get hurt, too,” she said.

Basenji returned the hug as he carefully scratched behind her ears. “I won’t lie to you and say that that won’t happen, because I might,” he confessed. “I can promise you, though, that I won’t be alone, and that I’ll do everything I can to stay safe.”

They stayed like that for a while, Djembe holding on to him like she would never see him again, quietly crying into his chest as Basenji scratched her ears. At some point the front door had opened, and Chaga stood in the hallway, giving them a moment of privacy.

Djembe finally pulled away, wiping her face clean with the inside of her cloak as she called for Chaga to come in.

“I have the things you requested,” Chaga said as he set down the items he held in his arms.

Chaga had gone and retrieved a few basic things from Basenji’s den – a sack of gold coins, one of jewels, a few books, some strips of dried meat, and a large water skin. Basenji took the basic travel necessities and placed them into his satchel. The canvas bag was bulging at this point and heavy enough that the weight was noticeable. He adjusted the strap to account for the burden.

His preparations complete, he placed a kiss atop Djembe’s head and clapped Chaga roughly on the shoulder. “Look out for one another, and be good,” he told them. “And finish putting these books away.”

He left Saluki’s den and made for the surface. He passed a few dogs on his way out, and though they looked at him curiously none stopped him to ask where he was going. Word that he had left would get around soon enough.

The trip to the surface was quick and uneventful. The last time he’d left on a journey it had been in the dead of night, and he’d snuck out past sentries by digging an exit through a tunnel close to the surface. Now he was leaving again, this time intimately aware of the danger he might be facing. His first foray into adventure had almost seen him stupidly dying of dehydration in the desert, and as he climbed the steps to the surface he quietly promised to himself that the next time he knocked on Anubis’ door, it would be as a very old dog.

When he reached the surface the sun told him that there was just enough time to reach Zanzebra before dark, so long as they left immediately. Spitfire was waiting for him under the acacia tree that Djembe and Chaga frequented.

She stood as he approached, her eyes drawn to the pack at his side. “I was wondering what was taking you so long,” she said.

“We shall leave in a moment,” he said as he walked past her. “I must say one last farewell, and then I will be ready to go.”

“I talked to that guy a bit ago,” Spitfire explained as she jerked her head in Dingo’s direction. “He’s a real chatterbox.”

“As you say,” Basenji said with a laugh.

Basenji stood next to Dingo, joining his brother’s vigil as he squinted into the distance. “Equestria is in that direction,” he said, stating aloud what was now obvious to him.

Dingo’s ear twitched.

“I know you heard what we were talking about,” Basenji continued. “You know I got a letter from Twilight Sparkle. She found the one responsible for sealing away Great Anubis in your body. That’s what you’ve been watching.”

Dingo’s ear twitched.

“Based on what Twilight Sparkle said in her letter, I believe I know what this is, but I will need to consult the old songs before I’m willing to speak it aloud,” Basenji explained. “I will stop this thing, though. I promise you.”

Dingo reached up a paw and scratched lightly behind Basenji’s ears, and the gesture was so alike to what Basenji did when he was speaking to Djembe that he laughed aloud. “I’m not a pup anymore,” he whined in a shrill approximation of his little cousin’s beautiful voice.

Dingo’s ear twitched. He stopped scratching and gave Basenji a few brotherly pats on the head, just hard enough to sting.

Basenji slapped the paw away with a chuckle. “Enough. I have to go… If I don’t come back, watch over our dogs, okay? Especially little Djembe.”

Basenji began walking away.

“Be strong.”

Basenji froze at the sound of a once-familiar voice that he hadn’t heard in over a year. He turned slowly, eyes wide as he stared in disbelief at his brother. Dingo had turned his head to look over his shoulder, a broad smile on his face.

“Did you just…?”

Dingo’s smile widened almost imperceptibly before he finally looked away.

“Hey, you coming?” Spitfire shouted. She’d already put her bags back on and secured them. “Unless you can fly, we got a long walk back to the city.”

“Yes… yes I am coming,” Basenji said. He went to join her and together they headed for Zanzebra.


* * *


Spitfire sat on the floor in her cabin, her back pressed to the bed and a half-finished bottle of bathtub rotgut next to her. She stared at the ceiling fan and watched it spin ineffectively on the lowest setting. One of the blades was missing, so someone had broken off the chain that adjusted the speed to prevent anyone from turning it up too high and shaking the thing loose. Even on the lowest speed the fan swung in a lazy, hypnotic circle on the ball joint that connected it to the deckhead.

The trip back to Zanzebra had been quiet. Neither she nor Basenji really knew one another, and Basenji had spent most of the walk with his nose in a book, so they’d been perfectly comfortable walking in silence – at least for a little while. Halfway back the pressure of the silence had gotten to Spitfire and she’d offered to fly ahead to make some arrangements for them. Basenji agreed to meet her at the airfield once he was in town.

Spitfire had told Twilight that she would drag Basenji back to Equestria if she had to, but that had been mostly bluster. Diamond dogs were almost entirely muscle, even skinny ones like Basenji, and she didn’t like her odds of making it the whole way home with something that heavy sitting on her back. Luckily, she’d made a friend in her brief stopover in Zanzebra, and Gale the griffoness was more than happy to give them a lift. She had been on her way to a job in Western Equestria, and she’d agreed to drop them off somewhere they could catch a train back to Canterlot.

It was also convenient that Gale was an independent contractor with her own ship. According to her, she usually hired small crews on contract and let them go once the jobs were over, and since she was between jobs at the moment it meant that they had the run of the ship to themselves. 

Spitfire sighed as she let her head loll back against the bed. Gale’s airship was quick, but it’d still be a couple of days before they were in Equestria. She decided to cap off the bottle and secure it in her saddlebag under the bed – there was no point in drinking the whole thing tonight.

Spitfire’s ears perked as she caught a faint knocking sound coming from somewhere in the ship. Old boats like this tended to have engines that knocked, and metal hulls loved creaking, but she’d been around airships enough to know what those things sounded like, and the shallow, irregular thumping noise wasn’t like anything she’d ever heard on a ship before.

“The hay is that…?” she wondered aloud as she rose to her hooves.

The sudden movement caused the gasses in her stomach to churn until they found an escape as a massive belch. Spitfire flinched away from the odorous stink and banished the possibly flammable gas with a few flaps of her wings.

She left her cabin and tried to zero in on the source of the noise. Gale’s ship was pretty big – an older commercial model with a massive hold for cargo. It was the sort of ship that was built to emphasize room for freight to maximize profitability, which meant that the crew deck was disproportionately small compared to engineering and the hold.

Spitfire followed the noise and found that it wasn’t coming from either the hold or the engines. The source of the thumping seemed to be coming from the deck above. She climbed the stairs leading up to the main deck and opened the cabin door to find Basenji sitting at the bow of the ship.

“Oh, right, drums,” Spitfire muttered to herself. “Guess I’ve had a little more than I thought.”

Spitfire considered just turning back around, heading to bed, and sleeping the next few days away until they were in port, but the more she thought about it, the less appealing that idea was. She stood in the doorway for a while more, watching as the diamond dog sat with his back against the railing, hunched over with a book in one paw and the other gently tapping the drum sitting at his side. He was so entranced by whatever he was doing that he hadn’t even noticed that he wasn’t alone anymore.

Basenji had been there when her dad died. In fact, according to the action report she’d read, Twilight’s rescue of this dog had been the thing that had led them to that ancient city. Basenji had even been the one that had broken the seal and let out the curse of Anubis. If she were a petty mare, she could easily lay the blame for her father’s death on Basenji’s head – but that would be more than petty, it’d be insulting to the memory of her dad. She only knew him from the stories she’d heard from old friends of his, but she knew soldiers, and she didn’t know a one that would want anyone laying the blame for their death on the head of someone they’d died trying to help.

Still, it was a little weird to think that this quiet, bookish diamond dog had been the impetus for an event that had more or less consumed her life for nearly a year now. As such, her every attempt to this point to try and talk to him was awkward in a way that she couldn’t quite explain, even to herself.

Spitfire sighed. This was stupid. This dog was a friend of Twilight’s, he’d known her dad, and – most importantly – he was going to be joining the team in the hunt for the thing that had killed her father. He was likely going to be fighting at her side, and she couldn’t be feeling weird around him as they were going into battle together.

“Screw it,” she said under her breath as she stepped onto the deck and shut the heavy steel door behind herself. The only thing to do was to treat this like any other unfamiliar or uncomfortable situation she’d ever face – fly face-first into it and see what happened.

She’d closed the door a little more forcefully than she’d meant to, and the loud crash as the door slammed into the frame was enough to draw Basenji’s attention. The dog looked up as she walked across the open deck purposefully. There was a strip of some kind of meat dangling out the side of his mouth.

“Having a snack?” she asked as she sidled up to sit beside him and took a deep breath of bracingly cold air. They were still over land, but close enough to the sea that she could already smell the salt in the air.

Basenji looked down at her and quirked his head in confusion. After a moment he seemed to realize that he still had the jerky in his mouth. He quickly tore the meat free and shoved it into the satchel at his side.

“Ah, apologies,” he said as he swallowed what was in his mouth.

“For what?” Spitfire asked, raising an eyebrow. “For the meat? It’s not as uncommon in Equestria as you’d think. I’ve made friends with more than a few griffons in my day. They always told me, ‘If it’s not smart enough to ask you not to eat it, it’s fair game,’ and I’m agreeable to that line of reasoning.”

“Then my apologies for the assumption,” Basenji said. “Little have I traveled outside of my homeland, and so I am perhaps unwittingly being overcautious to avoid social misstep.”

“It’s cool,” Spitfire said with a wave. “Most ponies won’t blink at it. They may take a few steps back on account of the smell, but I don’t mind it, myself. I’ve even had something sort of meat-like once.”

Basenji’s ears pricked up at that admission. “Truly? How did that come about?”

“You know the Sultan of Bruneigh?”

“Ah, I am not so good with politics beyond those of my pack,” Basenji admitted shyly, “but I have heard that the Great Sultan is a dragon who leads ponies.”

“You heard right,” Spitfire said. “About ten years ago the previous sultan got into an argument with a dragon. The dragon ate him and put on his crowny-turbany-thingy, declared himself the new sultan just to spite the old guy.”

“Did his people not wish to take revenge for their leader?” Basenji asked, stroking his throat in the way someone with a beard might stroke said beard.

“Old guy was a jerk, new guy surprisingly wasn’t,” Spitfire said with a shrug. “Anyway, we did a show for him about a year and a half back. He put out a spread for us and thought he’d get a chuckle out of serving a dessert course of chilled monkey eyeballs – I took it as a challenge.”

“Indeed?” Basenji asked, sounding impressed. “What were they like?”

Spitfire’s face screwed up at the memory of the cold, salty little orbs of goo. She could still practically feel them bursting in her mouth.

“Gushy,” she said succinctly. “I ate the whole bowl, though. Nopony else on the team would touch them. One of my teammates, Fleetfoot, ran off and puked into a six-hundred-year-old vase that was worth more than this airship.”

Basenji chuckled. “You are an interesting pony, Spitfire. I might ask, though, what brings you out at this late hour. Can you not sleep?”

“Nah, I could sleep,” Spitfire explained, “I could sleep like a log, but I decided I wanted to spend the time drinking instead. Just one of those nights where you’d rather be awake, ya know?”

“As you say.”

“What about you?” Spitfire asked. She looked down at the book he was holding in his left paw. He’d closed the book on one of his digits, marking the place he’d left off. “What are you reading?”

Basenji opened the book and ran his digit pads gently over the page. He frowned thoughtfully before leveling a studious glare at Spitfire. “You are Twilight Sparkle’s messenger, but I must ask… Are you… privy to the events of last summer?”

“Yeah, I’m plugged in,” Spitfire said. “Anubis, curse, evil dog stuff – I’ve heard the story.”

“Good, good,” Basenji said, nodding with each utterance. “To answer your question, I am studying the old songs of my people. This creature that Twilight Sparkle has crossed swords with could be one of several things. There is one possibility that jumps to mind most immediately, however… I am not comfortable even speaking the thing’s name until I am absolutely certain, and for this I shall need to further consult the wisdom of the Old Dogs.”

“That’s fine, just make sure you’ve got the right guy and we can talk about it when we’ve got Twilight in the room,” Spitfire suggested, “that way you don’t gotta explain it twice.”

Basenji seemed to be greatly relieved by her suggestion, and he lowered his head in a grateful bow. “A thousand thanks for your understanding and patience.”

Spitfire chuckled at the formality. She took the opportunity to lean forward and catch a glimpse of what was written in the book. The script looked messy, or maybe it was neat and the writing was just supposed to look that way. In either case, the page was indecipherable.

“So those are songs?” Spitfire asked. “Twilight said you drummer guys use music to make your magic. Is that like a spell book, then?”

“No, we have no such thing.” After a moment’s pause he leaned over and held the book open so Spitfire could get a better look as he flipped through the pages. “There is nothing of the Ways in these songs. Songs are merely stories, a way for drummers to record the history of our people – it is simply information. They have no more power than any other song.” Basenji chuckled softly as he closed the book and stowed it in his satchel. “Singing is no requirement for mastery of the Ways. This is most fortunate, as my own singing voice is rather less than pleasant, despite my best efforts.”

Basenji picked up the drum he’d been absentmindedly beating on earlier and placed it in his lap. He tapped it once, waited a moment, then tapped it again, twice, and with more force.

Spitfire gasped as she felt her heart skip a beat. The third tap of his drum had washed over her like a wave, and for the tiniest of moments, the cold night air had left her as she felt a sensation of warmth over her entire body, like she’d just been lowered into a hot bath.

“The drum is what is necessary for a drummer to interact with the Ways,” Basenji explained. “Every thing that lives has a heart, and each of those hearts has a beat. These heartbeats are all unique. None are the same.”

Basenji tapped out a slow, steady beat on the drum. “Bum-bum-bam-bum-bum,” he said as he hit the drum.

He held his paw still atop the drumhead for a moment, then beat another rhythm, fast and sharp. “Bam-bam-bam-bam-bam.”

He placed both paws on the drum and quickly tapped out both rhythms at the same time, one with each paw.

“Hearts,” he explained as he played his drum, “beating separately, yet together. The many beats become one, creating a heartbeat for the entire world, made of the rhythm of all that lives. Those who are strong in the Ways can hear the Heart of the World, and with our drums we add a new beat to it, influencing the shape of it. It is a subtle art, more so than the magic you are used to, but it has its uses.”

As Spitfire watched Basenji play, she started to understand why Twilight had said they needed him. She could feel the vibration of his drumming in the air, on her fur, on her skin. The beat of his paws against the drum filled her with warmth like a summer’s day, and she could almost hear this great big worldly heartbeat and the way that her own fit into it.

She realized that she’d been staring, and a she felt a flush of heat in her face that she knew had nothing to do with her drinking or whatever his drum magic was doing. She brought up a wing to cover her face, pretending to wipe her nose clean along the ridge. It was gross, but at least he wouldn’t see her blushing like some kind of stupid girl.

His paws went still and he sighed.

“I feel I must once again offer my apologies,” Basenji said. “I have said overmuch of a topic that you surely must find spectacularly dull. Even amongst my own kind, most care only for what I do, and care very little for how it is done.”

“It’s cool, yo,” Spitfire said with a sniff. She looked away, trying to appear nonchalant about the whole thing. “It was… interesting.”

“You are ever gracious,” Basenji said. He toyed nervously with the strings that held the skin of his drum taut, plucking at them with his claws. “If it is not an imposition, might I ask how it is you have found yourself entwined in these dangerous affairs?”

“Same way you did, I guess,” Spitfire wearily. “The bad guys made it personal.”

Basenji’s brows knitted together in confusion. He scratched at the little crease between his eyes and opened his mouth wordlessly. He shook his head.

“I do not understand,” he said.

Spitfire stood and put her forehooves up on the bow to look out at the sky. She opened her wings, angling them so the wind blew through her feathers without lifting her into the air. She wasn’t flying under her own power, but the feeling of wind in her wings was calming. The ocean was finally close enough that she could see the moon’s reflection in the water. It was a good night.

“You got involved because they took your brother away and you wanted to do something about it, right?” she asked. “It was pretty much the same thing for me… Sky Chaser was my dad.”

“Oh…” he said quietly. He folded his paws in his lap, laying them atop his drum and fidgeting nervously. “Oh… Spitfire I am…”

“Don’t say it,” Spitfire said without heat. “I’m so tired of everyone apologizing to me like I’m a helpless little orphan or something. I heard it from Twilight, I heard it from the Captain of the Guard, every service buddy of my dad’s that I’ve tracked down and talked to… I don’t want to hear it from you, too…”

“I am… I am sorry for being sorry… my apologies.”

Spitfire couldn’t help but laugh at that. “I guess I can accept that one,” she said as she lightly nudged his shoulder with her hip. She dropped to the deck and sat back next to him.

This was easier than she’d thought it would be. Basenji was a very nice dog. He was soft spoken, polite, and seemed to have a pretty good head on his shoulders. Once she’d gotten over the initial weirdness she’d been feeling, she’d found it very easy to talk to him.

Or maybe that was just the liquor talking. Either way, she was starting to like this guy, and she had a feeling that sobriety and the cold light of day wouldn’t change that.

“You must miss him,” Basenji said.

“I didn’t know him well enough to miss him,” Spitfire explained. “My parents split up before I was old enough to remember them ever being together. Mom told him not to come around, and I got so used to him not being around that when I was old enough for it to be my decision, I never went looking for him… Somehow that makes it hurt more – the fact I could have known him if I wanted to, but chose not to… that’s what kills me about it.”

“This is understandable,” Basenji said. He spoke softly, his words measured and deliberate. “It is a frailty of living beings to most treasure that which they have never possessed. It is fine to have regret – this is to be mortal, for one would not fear mortality if one lacked the capacity to have regret – but in time we must all learn to cope with loss.”

Spitfire laughed humorlessly. “Coping’s been hard,” she admitted. “I’ve always been… kind of a hothead. I got that from my mom, and from what I hear I get my fondness for drinking from my dad. It’s not a good mix, especially in someone like me who has difficulty,” Spitfire gestured vaguely with her hooves and mimed the act of throwing something off of her chest, “expressing emotions. It’s been a tough year.”

Basenji leaned his head back, doing that beardless beard-stroking thing again, and staring up at the balloon holding their ship aloft as though the words he was searching for were written on it.

“There is an old song which is perhaps suited to your circumstances,” Basenji began. “I shall spare you the horrors of my singing and tell it to you in simple Equish. It goes thusly: Long ago, a very young dog was digging tunnels far from his den. As he descended into the earth he happened upon two gems, each nearly so large that they could feed a large family for several moons. In fact, so large were they that he could carry only one. He made his choice and went home, certain that he could return later for the other.

“The gem was the finest the dog had ever tasted. It was good, and there was much of it, and he was happy. Later, when he returned for the other gem, it was gone. Another dog had taken it. The young dog returned home, and there was still much of the first gem to be had, enough to last many moons. But the young dog was haunted by the memory of the other gem. Could it have been even better than the one he had chosen? Had he chosen poorly? Thoughts of the lost gem consumed him, and though all whom he shared the gem with told him that it was good and there was much of it, to him it was small, and tasted of brimstone and dirt.”

“So in this story, my relationship with my dad is the gem that I never chose?” Spitfire asked, arching an eyebrow.

Basenji shrugged. “This is an interpretation that one could make, yes. One is meant to take away that, though regret is natural, one should not be consumed by it. Your father would not wish you to wallow in your regret. Short was our acquaintance, but I knew friend Sky Chaser to be a stallion of good cheer, who wished the best for those around him. I should think he would want no less for his own child.”

“Things are getting better, slowly,” Spitfire said. “A big part of why I was having such a difficult time was because I just wasn’t even allowed to know what happened to him.”

“Ah,” Basenji said, recognition dawning on his face, “yes, all parties involved decided secrecy was prudent…”

“Yeah, I get why, now,” Spitfire admitted. “It’s downright spooky, but knowing what happened has made it easier to deal with, even despite said spookitude. And now that Twilight’s got me in the loop, I feel like I’m finally doing something. I’m real objective-oriented, see? Sitting around and quietly coping with emotions isn’t my style. When I’m just treading air is when I end up doing really stupid shit like starting a bar fight with a Royal Guard.”

Basenji’s eyebrows went up at that, and Spitfire had to admit it was kind of cute.

“I know what you’re thinking,” she said with a smirk, “and yeah, it was Twilight. We’re friends now, but back when we first met I had a bit of a chip on my shoulder for her. I got a few good shots in, too. Pretty sure I loosened a couple of her teeth.”

Spitfire decided that, for the sake of good storytelling, it was a good idea to leave out the part where her best shot against Twilight had been a sucker punch after the crazy unicorn had pinned her against a wall by her throat.

“As a diamond dog, I am very familiar with this method of making friends,” Basenji said. “My people are rather spirited, much like yourself and Twilight Sparkle. You would do well in a pack.”

“At least until I started trying to eat diamonds,” Spitfire quipped.

“I am certain that we could accommodate you with some fresh eyeballs,” Basenji replied.

Spitfire laughed.

“So is this what you do?” Spitfire asked. “You tell stories and help talk other people through their problems?”

“Simply put, yes,” Basenji said. He rapped his digits against the drum. “I also play music.” After a moment he added, “I should like us to be friends, Spitfire. To that end, my door shall be open to you should you ever wish to hear either story or music.”

“I’d like that, thanks,” Spitfire said with a smile. “I actually wouldn’t mind hearing some more of your music now, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course, friend Spitfire.”


* * *


Cadance leapt into the air with a beat of her wings and landed in the center of the bed, bouncing as she struck the mattress. She flipped herself around with the inborn agility that only pegasi had. 

“Pomf! What’re we going to do on the bed, Twilight?” she asked as she gave Twilight a look that was an oddly arousing mix of innocence and sultriness.

“We’re going to sleep,” Twilight grumbled as she slipped off her chakram holster and levitated it onto the night stand. She climbed onto the bed, groaning as her flanks throbbed with the effort. “For a thousand years.”

“A thousand years?” Cadance repeated with an exaggerated gasp, clearly feigning shock.

“A thousand years,” Twilight insisted.

“You can’t sleep for a thousand years,” Cadance said. “You’ll miss our wedding.”

Twilight collapsed onto the mattress with an exhausted groan. “Then wake me up when it’s time to get married and I’ll just go back to sleep right after."

"What about our honeymoon?"

Twilight flicked her tail dismissively. "You have permission to do stuff to me in my sleep if you need to.”

“But you told me to stop doing that,” Cadance said.

“Only because you kept waking me up,” Twilight replied. “Right now I feel like I could sleep through anything.”

Twilight tried to crawl the rest of the way to where her pillow was, but her body refused to listen to her. Betrayed by her own body, and sore beyond reason, she buried her face into the sheets with a huff. The mattress shook as Cadance got up and inched her way closer. Twilight sighed as she felt Cadance’s hooves working at the tense muscles in her back.

“My poor baby, you worked so hard for me this week,” Cadance said, sighing as she massaged her fiancée.

“You knew about this, didn’t you?” Twilight asked. She was trying to affect a little bit of heat in her voice, but it was hard to work up any kind of anger towards the mare who was giving her a rub down.

“You’ve asked that every night for the past week,” Cadance replied. “There’s absolutely no way I could have known that a Royal Betrothal Discharge from the Royal Guard required you to complete seven labors. Those forms were drafted up a thousand years ago by the first Captain of the Guard. Even my aunts had forgotten what was in them.”

“Seven labors my scarred rump!” Twilight said as she pounded a hoof angrily on the mattress. “Slaying a pony-eating manticore, wrestling Cerberus – these would have been proper labors! But what did the legendary guards of old – warriors that I’ve idolized since I was old enough to read – ask of me? Cooking lunch for the entire regiment by myself! Cleaning all the latrines in the castle! I had to polish the floors with only a dishrag and without using magic! Do you know how many floors are in this castle? A lot, Cadance – a lot.”

“So they hazed you a little bit,” Cadance said with a snigger. “We’re a whimsical people, it’s to be expected. Every stallion in the Guard back then wanted to marry my aunts. Did you think they would pass up the chance to give a little grief to whichever of their romantic rivals won the big prize? At least this last one was over quickly.”

“A ‘spanking machine’ is supposed to be an excuse to touch somepony else’s butt under the pretenses of a sexy party game,” Twilight grumbled, “not an actual machine.”

“That thing was so cool,” Cadance said.

“You wouldn’t be saying that if you had to get in it,” Twilight countered.

“I'd be in it right now if you’d have let me bring it up to our room,” Cadance said. Twilight could practically hear the pout in her voice.

“My first act as a princess will be to have that infernal contraption burned,” Twilight insisted. She turned her head enough to shoot a warning glare at Cadance. “No one will know about this. If my family finds out about these stupid hoops I had to jump through, I… I don’t know what I’ll do, but you better believe I won’t be happy.”

Cadance’s hooves started drifting south. Twilight flinched a bit as she felt Cadance kneading at her sore flanks, but to her surprise it was actually helping soothe the dull throb that came from being strapped into what had basically been a siege engine with a paddle on it.

“My lips are sealed,” Cadance said.

Cadance and Twilight both groaned as their moment of privacy was interrupted by somepony knocking on the door. In their private chambers, nopony would be allowed to disturb them except for the guards outside the door, and Twilight had told them on the way in that she didn’t want to be bothered until morning. That meant that either it was really important, or somepony else really important had ordered the guards to stand down.

“Should I ignore them?” Cadance asked. She applied a little more pressure to Twilight’s flanks, subtly suggesting that her personal preference was to ignore the knocking.

The idea was tempting, but Twilight thought better of it and shook her head. “Better see who it is,” Twilight said.

Cadance let out a throaty, annoyed little huff as she got out of bed and went to the door. She opened it just a crack and stuck her head out to see what the guard wanted.

Twilight leapt to her hooves at the sound of Cadance’s shriek. In only an instant she'd gathered her magic and teleported into the hallway. She appeared with the usual bang of displaced air and found herself staring at the startled faces of Cadance, the two Legionaries stationed outside the door, Spitfire, and Basenji.

“Burning stars, Twilight!” Spitfire shouted, holding a hoof to her chest. “You scared the ever-loving piss out of me!”

“Basenji, you’re here!” Twilight exclaimed excitedly.

“It is good to see you well, my sister,” Basenji said, rapidly patting his chest to settle his heartbeat. “Though perhaps it was my mistake to believe that I would be surprising you with my visit? It would seem that it is I who is most surprised.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Twilight said apologetically.

“Basenji, it’s so good to see you,” Cadance said as she tapped the diamond dog on the shoulder. When he turned to face her she gave him a quick hug. “It’s been so long. Come in, come in, please.”

Cadance wrapped Basenji's paw in her magic and pulled him into the room. Twilight caught Spitfire’s eye and motioned with her head that Spitfire should join them as she followed Cadance and Basenji into the room. The guards outside their door still looked a little confused, but they closed the door behind Spitfire and resumed their duties as normal.

Cadance led their guests over to their little sitting area, where a pair of matching couches faced each other separated by a glass-top coffee table. She pointed to one of the couches and took a seat for herself on the one opposite it. The diamond dog, with his dusty cloak and filthy nails, looked amazingly out of place on Cadance’s neatly upholstered neon-pink couches. He gingerly climbed onto the couch, sitting at the edge of the seat and apparently trying to make as little contact with the cushion as possible.

“Is it not comfortable?” Cadance asked with hospitable concern.

“I understand that it would be rude to decline the hospitality of a host’s offered seat,” Basenji said as he struggled to maintain his precarious balance, “but I do not wish to dirty such lovely furnishings.”

“Forget the couch,” Cadance said with a scoff, “a little dirt is no problem. Get comfortable, please. You get comfy, too, Spitfire.”

“Thanks a lot, Your Highness,” Spitfire said as she took a seat next to Basenji.

“You’re Twilight’s friend,” Cadance said. “If we’re not in public you can call me Cadance.”

“Or Mi Amore Cadenza,” Twilight said as she sat next to Cadance. “She loves it.”

Cadance rolled her eyes. “Pay no attention to her,” Cadance said, “she’s just sour because she took a spanking for me today.”

“Cadance!” Twilight said in a sharply whispered hiss.

Basenji and Spitfire exchanged confused, yet curious, looks.

“I have been told that you share a den,” Basenji said, changing the subject to Twilight’s great relief. “Is this an Equestrian custom of which I am not familiar or should I take it to mean that the two of you have entered a partnership?”

The smile that bloomed on Cadance’s face was so wide that it made Twilight’s cheeks hurt just to look at her. “We’re getting married soon.”

Basenji’s jaw dropped. “Truly?” He turned to Twilight for confirmation and she gave him a nod and a smile of her own. He looked to Spitfire, dumbfounded, and held out a paw as though to ask if she had known about it.

“Twilight said you guys were good friends, so I figured they’d want to be the ones to tell you,” Spitfire said with a laugh. “The look on your face is great.”

“This is wonderful, wonderful news, my friends,” Basenji said as he clapped his paws together happily. “Congratulations to you, my sister.”

“Thank you, Basenji,” Twilight said as she leaned against Cadance and put an arm around her. “I’m pretty happy about it, too… And, hey, your Equish is getting really good!”

“I have not been idle these months,” Basenji said confidently. “I have studied much since we have last seen one another.”

“How have you been, Basenji?” Cadance asked. “Is Dingo doing alright?”

Basenji’s ears folded down flat against his head. “Ah, yes, Dingo is… doing perhaps better than I would have imagined,” he said. “However, I feel we must discuss the important matters before pleasantries are further exchanged.”

The mood of the room shifted immediately, as though a switch had been flipped. Twilight let go of Cadance and leaned forward in her seat.

Basenji got off his seat and rummaged through his satchel. “I have consulted the old songs, and I wish to verify a few details.”

“Hit me,” Twilight said eagerly.

“You have told that the creature consumed the hearts of the changelings which infested your city, yes?” He pulled out an old book, bound with a soft brown cover that looked to be made of animal hide, and set it on the table.

“They found most of the bodies at the bottom of a crevice, with their chests cracked open like lobsters,” Twilight said grimly. “It also ate all the eggs in their hatchery.”

“Yes, yes, this is important,” Basenji said as he flipped through the book. He paused and flipped back a few more pages to read something, then went back to his satchel. “You have also said that it described itself as a ‘watchdog’?”

“Yeah, and he called me the same,” Twilight said with a frown. “Maybe because I’m a guard? He said, though, that we’d slipped our leashes, whatever that meant.”

“Strange, but also telling,” Basenji said with a sigh. He pulled out another book, similar to the first, and set it atop the open book already on the table. “There are several creatures which could be considered a ‘watchdog’ – most notably your own Cerberus, the legendary guardian of Tartarus. His kind is rare and powerful, but they lack in intelligence and the predilections towards the devouring of hearts. The same goes for several other creatures which could fit this description.

“Creatures which eat hearts are more common, but these are not the sort of creatures which are ‘leashed’, in any sense.” Basenji stopped speaking, apparently having found something of interest in the second book. His lips were moving, and he was making a series of very quiet growling noises under his breath that sounded like he might have been talking to himself in his native tongue. Twilight and the other two ponies in the room sat quietly as he worked through whatever he was reading, and a few moments later he continued on. “We must also consider the victim of this entity’s ploy – Great Anubis.”

“It sounds like you’ve got something in mind,” Twilight surmised. Basenji was acting very… squirrely. He seemed afraid. The impression she was getting that he might well spend the whole night going in circles unless she gave him one last little prod. “Care to share with the rest of us?”

Basenji closed his book with a sigh and sat on the floor, pressing his back against the couch. “I have said to you that Great Anubis is the protector of souls in the land of the dead, yes? This is necessary because there are a great many things which would like much to prey upon weak, disembodied souls in that realm. They are… abominations, demons – predators which have existed since the dawn of dawns. Great Anubis shepherds his charges and does battle with these horrid things.”

“And you think one of these creatures is the thing that Twilight talked with?” Spitfire asked.

“Yes,” Basenji said. He rested a paw on his drum, an action that Twilight had come to recognize as a nervous tic of his. “According to the songs of the Old Dogs, one of these creatures was fiercer and more cunning than the others, and even amongst other demons, he was feared. Great Anubis, in his wisdom, saw opportunity to use that fear, and so he subjugated this demon, made of it a pet… and this creature’s name was Ammit, the Eater of Hearts.”

Twilight’s heart began pounding. She finally had a name for this thing, and a tingle of excitement went up her spine as the biggest piece of the puzzle fell into place. It was no matter that this creature was a demon so fierce that it was feared by other demons, what mattered was that it had a name. Until this point he had just been a concept, a faceless malevolence that was waiting in the wings to pounce on her when she least expected it. But a name gave it form, gave it substance and made it more real than it had ever been before.

If it was real, it could bleed, and if it could bleed, she could kill it.

“Why does it… eat hearts?” Cadance asked. Twilight felt a twinge of shame at her excitement as she saw the look of nervous fear in Cadance’s eyes.

“There are few things in the land of the dead which possess physical forms,” Basenji explained. “Only beings which belong to that place have bodies, and only the truly divine and truly profane belong to there. One cannot easily kill beings which can possess life in the land of death itself. If you wish to extinguish the flame of such a being, you must consume its life into your own. The heart is the seat of the soul, and so by eating the heart, the soul is consumed.”

“Wait, hold on,” Spitfire interjected. “If we want to kill this thing, we have to eat it?”

Basenji shook his head. “No, it left the land of the dead and is now in the realm of the living. In this realm there is no such thing as true immortality. One can be ageless and powerful beyond reason, but one cannot exist in this realm and be truly beyond the reach of death. At the moment, he is as susceptible to the rules of mortality as we are.”

“Then we can kill him,” Twilight said, “send him back to the other side.”

“As you say,” Basenji said. “If Ammit’s vessel is destroyed, then his essence will return to the land of the dead, just as any of ours would. We have need but free it from his mortal shell and he will once again be within Great Anubis’ reach.”

“So our solution is just to send him home?” Spitfire asked. “All the trouble he caused and all we’re going to do is deport him?”

From Spitfire’s tone, Twilight got the impression that Spitfire wanted something a little more permanent than death. She also had a feeling that Spitfire just might be reconsidering the heart eating option.

“Great Anubis was betrayed by his own servant, friend Spitfire,” Basenji said as he leveled a look of grim certainty at the mare. “I believe you would be well served to trust in him to carry out a proper sentence for Ammit’s crimes… he will no doubt make it very unpleasant.”

Spitfire wore a look of rebellion, but she slowly lowered her hackles and nodded as she pressed herself into the corner of the couch between the armrest and the back.

“What about this business with stealing dead bodies?” Cadance asked.

“Ammit does not belong in this world,” Basenji explained. “His true body cannot exist here. In order to slip free from Great Anubis’ grasp, his form will have to have been discarded, leaving him as little more than a ghost. According to what he has said to Twilight Sparkle, he is stealing empty vessels, eating hearts and gathering power to create a new form suitable to this realm… I shudder to think of how many souls he must devour to create a body capable to housing a soul as large as his own.”

“What happens if he gets a new body?” Twilight asked.

“As I have said, nothing is truly deathless in this realm,” Basenji replied, “but it will be… difficult… to destroy a perfected vessel.”

“Difficult, but not impossible, right?” Spitfire asked.

“As you say,” Basenji said with a nod.

Twilight used her magic to draw her weapon from its holster on the nightstand and levitated it across the room. She set it on the table in front of Basenji. “You make any progress on figuring this thing out?” Twilight asked.

“I have proven… deficient to this task,” Basenji said. He picked it up and held it carefully between his paws, tracing the symbols etched on the ring with his claws. “Have you learned anything?”

“Magic doesn’t work on it unless it’s mine,” Twilight explained. “And when I do cast magic on it, it’s incredibly efficient. The amount of magic I focus in it also seems to add to the sharpness of the blade. I can cut through steel pretty easily.”

“What do you mean magic doesn’t work on it?” Spitfire asked. “This is the first I’m hearing about this.”

“That thing came out of the Necropolis,” Twilight explained, “and my brother, Cadance, Luna, and even Princess Celestia all failed to cast even a basic levitation spell on it. Considering they’re the four strongest magic casters in the entire kingdom, and it’s a weapon that they can’t defend themselves from, we were keeping a lid on it.”

Basenji set the chakram back on the table with deliberate care.  “Power enough to move the sun and moon in the skies but they cannot lift this small ring? This is… abnormal. Further testing is warranted.”

“Sounds good to me,” Twilight said with a nod.

“Ah, I have also enlisted the aide of a friend in deciphering the writing upon your weapon,” Basenji explained. “His name is Laughing Bison, and he is currently engaged in research in Amarezonia. I will make contact and let him know that I have changed locations. He has promised to send word should his research bear fruit.”

Twilight sat back in her seat with a sigh. Basenji’s arrival had relieved her of tension that she’d been carrying around for so long that she’d stopped even noticing it. She’d gathered the clues, but Basenji had been the one with the knowledge and resources to decipher their meaning. The sense of gratitude she felt was almost overwhelming.

Twilight sat there for a moment, basking in the sense of relief until the familiar caress of Cadance’s feathers against her shoulder shook her out of her quiet reflection.

“I think Twilight could use some coffee,” Cadance said, smiling radiantly. “Spitfire, Basenji, you two must be starving, would you like something to eat?”

Their guests nodded and Cadance went to ask the guards to see if one of the on-call chefs could make them a late dinner and some snacks.

They spent the rest of the night talking and laughing together into the late hours of the morning. Twilight knew that the reality of the danger they were facing was at the back of the minds of everyone present, but for the moment that didn’t matter. Right here, right now, they were together, and everyone was safe.


* * *

> Chapter 11 - The Rising
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Twilight sat on a small stool in a brightly lit room in one of the lower levels of the castle, slowly rocking from side to side. The wooden seat quietly creaked as she shifted her weight around, passing time while waiting for Basenji to speak again.

The diamond dog in question was sitting on the floor in the center of the room with his drum in his lap. His brow was knitted in concentration as his ears twitched and swiveled atop his head. He was staring at her chakram, which sat on the floor a half-pace away from him, outlined with an impossibly thin layer of magic and spinning on its edge in slow rotations. It wasn’t a difficult exercise. Twilight often made the ring of steel spin like this when she was bored. Basenji had asked for a demonstration of her usage of the weapon, and it had been the first thing to pop into her mind.

That had been almost an hour ago.

She sat there on her stool, impatiently patient, waiting for her friend to glean some clue to the object’s nature that she hadn’t yet discovered. He lifted his paw and tapped gently at his drum – thrice, in a quick succession – and the suddenness of the sound made Twilight’s body tense with excitement.

After a moment, he hummed inquisitively, and the intensity of his brow-furrowing increased markedly.

Twilight suppressed a sigh and went back to rocking. Eager as she was to voice her impatience, she understood that she could best help Basenji by keeping quiet. Her eyes began to wander around the room. They were in the lower levels of the castle, but the stone walls were done up with wood paneling in an attempt mimic the appearance of an office. It was a rather poor attempt, but it was still cheerier than the usual dreary gray that all the rooms below the ground floor had – a design aesthetic that Cadance had once described as ‘Dungeon Chic’.

The Royal Guard had several rooms just like this one in the castle set aside for their own use. They were mostly used for orientating new or transferring guards, or used as debriefing-slash-interview rooms, as the situation dictated. For the most part, however, they sat unused, aside from the periodic card game – which was technically against regulations, but so long as things never got out of hoof, the C.O.s always looked the other way from a good card game.

Twilight’s rank allowed her to commandeer one of these rooms so long as it wasn’t in use, and the security spells inlaid behind the faux-wooden paneling were some of the strongest in the castle. It was as good a place as any to delve further into the mysteries of her weapon.

The door opened and Spitfire walked in, unannounced, loudly chewing bubblegum. Normally, nopony would be able to enter unless they knocked and got permission from the room’s occupants, but Twilight had already keyed Spitfire into the room’s security before they’d started.

Spitfire sauntered in and took a seat on the empty stool next to Twilight. She blew a bubble, and the loud popping sound it made caused Basenji’s ears to flick in their direction. Twilight rolled her eyes and put up a small silencing charm around herself and Spitfire.

“Thought you said you were going to get snacks,” Twilight said, frowning at the obvious lack of snacks.

“I did,” Spitfire said as she took a seat on the stool next to Twilight. “They were good.” She lifted her chin towards Basenji. “How’s our boy doing? He figure out your whatsit yet?”

“No, and I’m starting to get a little antsy just waiting,” Twilight said. “I’m trying not to break his concentration, but I’m dying to know how it’s going.”

Spitfire slowly inflated a bubble between her pursed lips, and the massive balloon of pink was nearly the size of her head before it popped. “I’m sure he’ll figure something out,” she said as she stuck out her tongue and licked away the sticky remnants of gum from her face. “That thing came out of diamond dog treasure trove, right? His people probably made it, so I’m sure a smart boy like Basenji can puzzle it out.”

“I hope so,” Twilight said with a sigh.

The silencing charm Twilight had put up around them was only meant to muffle the sound within, so when Basenji spoke, his voice came through clearly.

“Twilight Sparkle,” he said without looking up from the rotating chakram, “how much force are you applying to this enchantment?”

“Not—” Twilight paused as she realized her mistake, and quickly dispelled the silencing charm. “Not much. Hardly anything, really. Casting unicorn magic requires a certain amount of intent, and that intent naturally carries an almost infinitesimal amount of magic with it – just enough to establish an actual link between my mind and the object or exterior force that I am applying my will to. What I’m doing to the chakram right now is just…” Twilight pursed her lips thoughtfully. “...I’m only expressing the intent to cast a levitation spell, and the small amount of magic communicating the statement is enough to activate and power the spell. It’s immensely efficient. The effect seems to hold true for other spells that I cast on it, but levitation and locomotion spells seem to be the most effective.”

Basenji reached out a paw and held it steady, just out of reach of the slowly spinning ring. “May I?”

Twilight nodded. “Careful of the edge, though,” she said. “It looks dull, but it gets sharper when magic is running through it.”

Basenji lowered his paw and carefully grasped the flat of the ring, pinching it between two claws. Twilight maintained the spell, but the tiny amount of magic being fed into the spell wasn’t enough to keep it spinning with Basenji holding it like that. She could sense the spell struggling against Basenji’s hold, pushing and relaxing before pushing again – like a clockwork toy that had been jammed up and kept slipping gears.

“Fascinating…” Basenji muttered. He released the chakram, watched it for a few more revolutions, then held it still again. “You can increase the force, yes?”

“Yes...” Twilight said cautiously, “...but I won’t – not while you’re holding it like that.” Basenji looked at her, quirking his head curiously. “Like I said, it’s really efficient. Even a very small push would put enough force into it that you’d probably lose that paw.”

Basenji released his hold on her chakram like it had hissed at him. He cradled the paw to his chest, gently massaging the digits as though he were checking if any of them had come loose.

“Yes, well then,” he said, clearing his throat nervously. “Fascinating…”

“Just ‘fascinating’?” Spitfire asked, her voice lightly tinged with amusement. “We flew you a quarter of the way around the globe for ‘fascinating’?”

Basenji gave Spitfire the sort of lidded-glare that Twilight often caught herself giving Cadance. “It is fascinating,” he said insistently. “I still cannot ascertain the reason why Twilight Sparkle alone is able to wield this weapon, however, I have learned that the weapon is indeed connected in some fashion to the Ways. In what capacity, and how this is accomplished, I cannot tell, however.” He waved his paw back and forth above the chakram, as though he was feeling for strings. “There is a sort of… aura about it. It is as though it is somehow attuned to the Heart of the World.”

“What’s the Heart of the World?” Twilight asked.

“I have already explained this to friend Spitfire,” Basenji said with a nod in the mare’s direction. “Every living thing in this world possesses a heart which beats, and all beats come together to form a single rhythm, a massive heartbeat which all this world shares. This is the Heart of the World. Those powerful in the Ways can hear and manipulate this heartbeat to perform great feats.”

“Sometimes I hear drums,” Twilight said. “Like… like the drum that you play.”

“Yes, you mentioned as much in your letter,” Basenji said, frowning. “Hearts and drums are very similar. Such is why drumming is so effective in the practicing of the Ways.”

“So Twilight can hear the Heart of the World?” Spitfire asked. “Does that mean she’s like you?”

Basenji’s mouth opened, but he said nothing as his brows knitted together. He floundered wordlessly for a minute or so before replying. “If you are asking if Twilight Sparkle is a drummer, then no, I do not believe this is so,” Basenji said with a slow shake of his head. His voice was cautious, almost hesitant, as he spoke. “I believe she is only perceiving the Heart through her connection to the chakram. In the long history of my people, there have been no stories of drummers who were not dogs. As far as has been recorded, only diamond dogs are capable of hearing the Heart.”

“Your history also failed to cover a lot of stuff concerning the Necropolis,” Spitfire said pointedly.

Basenji sighed. “As you say… Regardless of that fact, I still do not believe my honored sister to be a drummer… Though, this does lead to another worrying topic. Twilight Sparkle, you mentioned in your letter concerns that the drums you have been hearing are having adverse effects upon your wellbeing.”

Twilight rubbed nervously at the back of her neck. This was one part of her experience in the mines that she’d never spoken about with anyone outside of the letter she’d sent to Basenji. She hadn’t even told Cadance about it yet. Every time she considered it, she just couldn’t think of a way of broaching the subject.

She summoned her chakram, and the disc immediately flew back to her. She held it between her hooves, staring down at the damnably indecipherable writing. “I’ve only heard the drums a few times,” Twilight said as she idly toyed with what was probably the most magically mysterious object in all of Equestria. “But this last time, when I was chasing Ammit… the drums were the strongest they’ve ever been. They filled me with…” She sighed, struggling to put the experience to words. “...with confidence and strength… with power.”

Basenji and Spitfire were quiet, and though she was focused on the ring between her hooves, Twilight could see her two friends sharing a worried glance at one another in the periphery of her vision.

“That sounds like a pretty good deal,” Spitfire said. “I’ve already gotten a taste of Basenji’s drum mojo, so I get what you’re saying. That drummer stuff kind of worms its way into you, makes you feel lighter than air.”

Twilight shook her head. “No, I’ve heard Basenji’s drumming, too, and this wasn’t the same,” Twilight said insistently. “It was loud – insistent. It made me impulsive. I chased after Ammit not even knowing what I was running after. I just had this vibe that it was bad, and instead of stopping and thinking about it, I just ran straight at it.”

Basenji made an inquisitive noise. “Were you not in control of your body?”

“Kind of,” Twilight explained, staring down at her hooves as she tried to relive the way she’d felt that night. Everything had happened so fast, all she had was intimations of how it had all went down. “My impulse control was really awful, but I can’t remember ever feeling sharper or more aware. My body was tired and hurting, but the adrenaline just kept pumping and pumping. At the end of the… I can’t really call it a fight, but at the end of our encounter, Ammit ran away. As soon as he was gone, the drums started fading and my body gave out on me. It took me a while before I was even able to stand up again.”

“Was it as bad as all that?” Spitfire asked. “I mean, even by your own admission you’re the kind of mare that goes with her gut.”

“Not the same thing.” Twilight rubbed her hooves together nervously. “There was no conscious decision on my part to go with a hunch. It was more primal than that – I saw something running, so I chased it.”

Spitfire turned to Basenji. “Is this something we should be worrying about?”

“I do not believe so,” Basenji said after a few moments of silent consideration. “There indeed exist songs which have these effects upon those who listen to them. The power of the Ways is not so direct, and so the Old Dogs created many songs which aid others who are more inclined towards… physicality. The after-effects of exposure to some of these songs can often put incredible stress on the body for those who are unaccustomed to them.”

“So it’s normal?” Twilight asked hopefully.

“Perhaps so,” Basenji said. He frowned, idly plucking at the strings holding the skin of his drum taut as he chewed on his words. “I hesitate to say anything definitively on the matter, however. If you are indeed hearing the Heart of the World, it begs the question of why you would have heard it beating a warrior’s rhythm – the Heart does not play to such a beat on its own.” He sighed. “As I thought… The chakram’s mysteries are deep and profound. There is little telling of what its capabilities are, or even how it operates at all.”

Twilight frowned. This wasn’t what she’d wanted to hear at all. She’d been pinning her hopes – however foalish they might have been – on Basenji strolling in and having all the answers, like a wise old sorcerer in a fairy tale. It hadn’t been realistic, but a part of her had hoped for it.

Basenji held out both paws, his palms up, as he nodded towards the chakram between Twilight’s hooves. She released it and levitated it over, setting it gently in his paws.

“I believe this writing is the key to understanding this phenomenon, sadly however, it is still a mystery that is beyond my understanding,” Basenji said as he eyed the ring. He brought the thing closer to his nose and sniffed at it, his face scrunching up in obvious dissatisfaction. “It had not occurred to me when first I laid paws upon it, but even the steel itself is confounding. The weapon seems to be quite old, but the quality of this blade is not something that should have been possible in ancient times. Dogs are renowned for their metalcraft, so I possess some knowledge in this regard. From scent alone I can tell that this steel was forged with surprisingly modern techniques.”

“So what’re you saying?” Spitfire asked. “That little whizzbee there is from the future?”

Basenji made a strangled sort of noise, like he was trying to hold in a laugh. “No, no I am not,” he said. “I am saying that the smithy who crafted this weapon possessed skills which were not seen again until very modern times.”

“So made by some kind of genius?” Spitfire asked.

“Such would be my guess.”

“To sum things up,” Twilight said as she plucked her weapon from Basenji’s grip and holstered it, “not only do we not have any answers about this thing, we also have new questions.” Twilight rubbed at her face tiredly, groaning into her hoof. She glanced up at the clock and noted the time. “It’s progress of a sort, I suppose. We can talk about it more later. I need to meet Cadance for dinner soon. You guys want to join us?”

“Thank you,” Basenji said with a polite dip of his head, “but I must decline. Friend Spitfire has promised to show me an establishment in town which caters to my particular dietary sensibilities.”

“Yeah, it’s a place a griffon friend of mine told me about,” Spitfire explained.

“The castle’s chefs don’t mind making meat,” Twilight said. “They’re used to cooking for dignitaries from abroad. I think a couple of the chefs even kind of have a taste for rabbit stew, actually. Probably comes from years of tasting what they’re cooking.”

“Apologies, but I believe friend Spitfire has already made the reservations and ordered ahead,” Basenji said, once again lowering his head apologetically.

“Yeah, sorry, Twi,” Spitfire said. “I had to pull strings to get a reservation at this place, and it’s not a good idea go canceling on fancy places like that. Makes it harder to get a good seat the next time.”

“Nothing for it then,” Twilight said with a shrug.

Basenji stood and gathered up a few books and loose notes he’d spread out around himself. As he was packing his things away, Spitfire chuckled lightly from where she sat.

“Can I just add that I’m glad I’m not you guys? You magic-users gotta worry about all this arcane mystery crap.” She hopped off her stool and stood up on her hind legs, holding her forehooves up in a fighter’s stance. “All I need is Punchy,” she kissed her right hoof, “and Punchy Jr.,” she kissed her left. “They’re brothers and they fight crime.”

“Your hooves are brothers?” Basenji asked. His ears folded down flat against his skull. “But you are a mare. And why is it that one is named after the other, as a son would be?”

“Don’t question their methods, Basenji,” Spitfire said with a laugh, which only seemed to further confound Basenji.

Twilight watched as Spitfire and Basenji began discussing the ways in which Spitfire’s statement was completely inane. Their argument paused only long enough for them to say their goodbyes and give promises to see her later, and then they were out the door.

Twilight found herself standing in the briefing room, alone and frustrated. She tucked in one of her hind legs, tensing up to give the stool she’d been sitting on a good buck, but in the end she just lowered her leg with a long, tired sigh.

Basenji’s insights were helpful, and despite his unwillingness to commit to his suppositions, his explanation for her odd experience did give her some peace of mind. But then why had it only kicked in when Ammit had gotten near?

Was it a warning? If it was, did that mean this Heart of the World that Basenji was talking about wanted her to fight Ammit? Or was it just a magical reflex reacting to the presence of a supernatural threat?

As she stood there, going over the conversation again in her head, she frowned as she recalled the jab that Spitfire had made about not needing magic. Spitfire was an accomplished fighter, and a powerful flyer, but considering the foe they were up against, pure physicality wasn’t enough. What Spitfire needed was some sort of magic at her disposal – something to even the playing field against Ammit.

Spitfire had asked to be let in on the fight against Ammit, and, for better or worse, Twilight had agreed. That meant that she was responsible for making sure that Spitfire was properly equipped to handle whatever might get thrown at her.

Twilight hummed thoughtfully as she headed for the door, Her head was already buzzing with ideas. If nothing else, keeping her hooves busy would keep her mind from dwelling too much on questions that, so far, were only frustrating her.


* * *


A thousand years ago, Luna’s favorite place in all of Equestria had been the Royal Garden. Not the Royal Garden in Canterlot, of course, but the original one that had been destroyed in her foolish battle with Celestia all those years ago.

That she had destroyed the place that she had loved so much was just another item in a long list of regrets, but it wasn’t like the old garden had been completely demolished. The remnants of that place had grown wild, becoming the Everfree Forest and expanding until it had reclaimed even the ruined homes of the ponies that had lived in the shadow of their castle. It wasn’t the same, but it was still there, and on a clear day she could see what was left of it from her balcony.

Still, the new garden that Celestia had cultivated in her absence was nothing if not beautiful, and Luna made sure to avail herself of its quiet charms as often as possible.

Every night, Luna took a stroll through the grounds after they were closed to the public, unwinding after the day with a brisk constitutional. Being a princess meant having very little time for solitude, and the hour or so she took to walk about the garden had become a routine that she held as sacred as anything. It was a daily moment of self-reflection and meditation that allowed her to clear her mind and center herself for her duties as the Mistress of Dreams. Walking through the surreal, and often impossible, dreamscape was not for the faint of heart, even for one as practiced as she was.

As she was walking along, a cluster of fireflies flittered across her path, hopping from one garden pond to the next, no doubt. She smiled as the little flurry of blinking lights danced across the grounds, and she found herself following them as they cavorted off into the darkness. She didn’t have to travel far to find where they’d ended up.

The pond had been carefully arranged by their master groundskeepers to fit with the newest fashionable movement in lawncare, which prescribed meticulous and careful tending that resulted in something that looked like it hadn’t been tended to at all. Tall grass sprang up around the periphery, creating cover for the nocturnal insects to weave in and out of. The pond itself wasn’t very large, but the water was crystal clear and reflected her moon brightly. The image of that perfect sphere was distorted and rippling as insects landed in the water and quickly flitted away.

To her surprise, she wasn’t alone here. Another pony sat at the other end of the pond, beneath a peach tree, of all things. The pony in question sat in quiet contemplation of a peach she held in one upturned hoof, seemingly unaware that she was no longer alone.

“Sister,” Luna greeted as she walked along the edge of the pond. “You are out rather late.”

“Oh, hello, Luna,” Celestia said. She held out the peach, inclining her head towards the fruit. “Peach?”

“Just a half, I suppose,” Luna said as she joined her sister beneath the tree. A firefly landed on the tip of her nose and fluttered its wings. She shooed it away with a hoof as she cast a minor cantrip that would discourage the insects from bothering them. “Odd placement for a peach tree, this. Do they not require more aerated soil?”

“Yes, it’s much too close to the pond,” Celestia said as she used her magic to split the peach in half. “The soil is too damp here for the tree to grow very much. One of the gardeners must have taken that as a challenge.”

Luna eyed the two halves of peach and took the one without the pit, earning an amused grin from her sister. The fruit was plump and moist, and juice dribbled down her chin as she ate. It wasn’t very princess-like manners to eat so sloppily, but there was nopony around to impress.

“Hm, the tree seems to be doing well, despite the less-than-optimal conditions,” Luna commented with a mouth full of peach. “One can tell the health of a tree from the succulence of its fruit, and these peaches are wonderful.”

Celestia shrugged as she bit into her own share, eating it just as sloppily as her younger sister as she slurped and sucked the juice from the pulp. “Some things are just like that,” she said with the air of something philosophical, “they thrive even where they’re not supposed to.”

Luna made a polite hum of agreement and concentrated on her peach. After some time, Celestia had somehow managed to finish her half first and plucked another fruit from the heavily burdened branches above.

“I remember the first time we ate peaches,” Celestia said wistfully. The shimmer of her magic twirled the little peach in the air, cleaning it off with a simple sterilization spell. “You said that they looked like a pony’s rear and laughed for a quarter of an hour.”

Luna shoved the rest of her peach into her mouth. “That was long ago, Sister,” Luna said warningly, juice trailing from the corner of her mouth as she tried to talk and chew at the same time. “You would do well to not tempt my own recollection of when we first encountered bananas, and what portion of a pony’s anatomy you believed they resembled.”

Celestia tittered softly. “I still laugh about that, sometimes…”

Luna cast a sidelong glance at her sister. A thousand years apart had meant a bit of readjusting, as far as learning one another’s quirks again, but Celestia was still her sister and Luna could always tell when something was on her mind.

Luna swallowed the last of her snack and conjured a small kerchief to clean herself. “So are we to sit here all night discussing erotically-shaped fruits? While that certainly sounds like a marvelously puerile distraction, perhaps you might instead like to speak of what is troubling you.”

Celestia pawed at the ground, toying with the grass beneath her shoes with a sigh. “It’s just one of those nights, Luna,” Celestia said quietly. “This past year has been… a bit overwhelming, to be honest.”

Luna sighed. “It has been an oddly busy several months.”

“The busiest I’ve seen in a long, long time,” Celestia said. She unfurled a wing and wrapped it around Luna protectively, fluffing her feathers to help hold the heat, the way she had when they had been very young. It was an unnecessary gesture – neither of them was a filly, and neither was very susceptible to the cold – but it was familiar and almost reflexive even after all these years. “At least you’ve been here… that’s more than I ever could have hoped for.”

Luna could only nod in agreement. The fact that she was of the right mind to return to the throne was a miracle. The power of the Elements of Harmony worked best when they were divided amongst separate users. When Discord had ruled the land, she and Celestia had managed enough control over them as a pair to imprison him in stone.

That hadn’t been an option when Celestia had taken up arms against Nightmare Moon. Using the Elements alone, the best Celestia had managed was to seal her opponent away for a few centuries. And even that had only been made possible because of Luna’s deeply mystical connection to the moon.

But Shining Armor and his friends had managed to do something that neither of them had considered. He’d wielded the Elements with enough finesse to push the darkness away from Luna’s heart, and to return her to what she had once been. It was the gift of a second chance, and one that she had done her best not to squander.

“I am also glad to be home,” Luna said quietly.

“You came home, the Elements were revived, Discord was freed, changelings attempted to nest in the caverns beneath our city, and now there’s some sort of ancient demon running around Equestria and I have no idea where it is,” Celestia said. She held her face in her hooves and groaned. “More has happened in the last year than has happened in the last hundred combined.”

Luna plucked the still floating peach from Celestia’s magical grasp, pulling it into halves with her own magic. She plucked the pit out and tossed it into the pond. It landed with a splash, momentarily scattering the little insects buzzing atop the water’s surface, only for them to regroup on that spot seconds later to investigate the disturbance.

“This Ammit creature has been in my thoughts as well,” Luna said. “I have sometimes brushed against… the other side, though I mostly avoid such confrontation where unnecessary. Of what I have seen from dealing with the occasional interloper in the dreamscape… it will not be a pleasant foe to battle.”

“It’s running around in the corpse of a changeling queen,” Celestia said. She held the half of peach Luna had given her in her hooves and stared into it as though she expected it to talk to her. “That… I don’t want to say that it worries me, but it’s something like it… it weighs on me.”

“Why would that be?” Luna asked as she bit into her peach.

“I still hadn’t told you this, but a few hundred years ago I tried to broker something of a peace agreement with a changeling queen,” Celestia explained. “She was… nice. I thought we might be able to get along, that maybe we could be friends. We introduced a number of changelings to a small community, just to see how it worked, but things fell through. My ponies were nervous about having changelings around and their queen blamed me for the experiment’s eventual failure. We argued, and tempers soared so high that she swore she would come back one day to take Canterlot for herself.”

“You believe that this changeling that has been taken by Ammit is your erstwhile friend?”

Celestia nodded. “Her name was Chrysalis. We parted as enemies, but I also sort of hoped that maybe there might be a chance we could patch things up. Now that she’s gone, though, there’s no going back. The finality of death has ended that possibility.”

“It is sad, then, that she was taken before you were able to make amends,” Luna said, trying not to think of how easily her own story could have ended the same way. If things had gone just a bit differently, if a pony other than Shining Armor had taken control of the Elements, would she be sitting here? It was a sobering thought. “At the least, we can rest assured that Twilight is working to resolve the matter with the help of her friends.”

Luna pried a stone free from beneath a tree root. She flicked it into the pond, aiming for the spot where the peach pit had landed. She smiled as the insects regouped once more to investigate this second disturbance.

Luna plucked a few more small stones from the ground, tossing them into the pond, scattering the little things yet again. The insects seemed to have caught on to her game, and had begun clustering together, as if they were challenging her to hit them. Every time she threw a stone the little cloud of mayflies and lightning bugs would skedaddle away just before they were hit, only to immediately regroup somewhere else on the pond. Each round seemed to be adding to the little swarm as more and more playmates came out of the reeds to join in on the game.

“It’s good that somepony trustworthy is overseeing this matter, but the fact that it’s Twilight that’s handling the situation doesn’t exactly do anything for my nerves,” Celestia said. She frowned at her untouched peach half and set in the grass at the edge of pond. A few of the insects abandoned their game with Luna to swarm over the sweet, exposed flesh of the fruit. “Honestly, it only makes me more worried.”

“Worried for Twilight Sparkle?” Luna asked.

“Somewhat,” Celestia said with a heavy sigh. “Of course I’m concerned for Twilight, but it’s Cadance that I’m really worried about.”

Luna frowned at the admission. Luna was certain that she already knew what was troubling her sister’s heart – Celestia was always rather easy to read – but rather than question it, she decided to wait for her sister to explain herself further. For things like this, it was better to let Celestia unburden herself – “get it off her chest” as the colloquialism went. 

“All of our ponies are like my children,” Celestia said, “but Cadance is… she’s different. Her parents died very soon after she came to live in the castle. I had the pleasure of raising her myself after that. It’s… selfish of me to say this, but I’m happy that I didn’t have to share her with anypony else…” She shot Luna a worried, pleading look. “Is that a completely terrible thing of me to say?”

“The heart is a strange and jealous thing,” Luna said after a moment of thought, “I know this better than most. You’re not a terrible person for loving somepony. Love can be quite the paradox – at once infinitely giving and infinitely selfish. I am certain Niece Cadance would agree.”

Celestia nodded. The look in her face said that Luna’s words had helped ease the burden of her conscience, but a glimmer of worry still shone in her eyes.

“She grew up so very, very fast,” Celestia muttered sadly. “As I get older, the days seem to fly by faster and faster. It feels like it was only yesterday that I was talking to her about puberty, and now she’s getting married…” Celestia sighed, pulling her legs under herself to lie on her belly atop the grass. She crossed her forehooves, resting her chin on them like a pillow. “Over the last few years she grew away from me a little bit. Only just this last year have we really begun to reconnect. I don’t know if I’m ready to share her with somepony else yet… especially somepony who can make the sort of enemies that Twilight has. First Anubis, and now this Ammit – once is happenstance, twice is the beginning of a pattern.”

“You do not believe Twilight Sparkle capable of protecting Niece Cadance from any harm that might come her way?” Luna asked. “It was you, I shall remind, who first appointed her as our niece’s guard.”

“It’s not a matter of thinking she can’t protect Cadance,” Celestia replied. “It’s that I think Twilight is the kind of mare that trouble will gravitate towards. One way or another, that trouble might end up hurting Cadance.”

Luna contemplated that for a moment, and she had to admit that Celestia did have a point. But at the same time, one could also say the same thing about Celestia, and Shining Armor, and Cadance, and any number of other ponies throughout history who had strides that were larger than most.

“By that measure, I could say the same of you,” Luna said. “If you so greatly fear for her safety, then perhaps you should also distance yourself from her. Or perhaps she can be placed onto the top shelf of a very high cupboard.”

“Fine, fine,” Celestia said with a grumble, “point taken. There’s no need to be hyperbolic.”

Luna smirked as she laid herself out on the ground next to her sister. The small bit of fruit that Celestia had offered to the insects had gathered quite the crowd. The little fireflies had descended on it readily, and the peach shone in the darkness like a tiny sun.

“What do you think of Twilight?” Celestia asked. “I mean really think of her.”

“Twilight Sparkle is an exceptional mare,” Luna immediately replied. “She is powerful, intelligent, forthright, honorable, loyal… Truthfully, had Niece Cadance not laid claim to her, I should have liked to have taken her for myself…” Luna cleared her throat. “…for my Night Guard, of course.”

Celestia tittered lightly. “No need to clarify, I know well your proclivities, little sister.”

“Yes… well…” Luna reached up and brushed back a lock of hair that wasn’t actually there. She’d long ago fully claimed the power of her mantle as the Lady of the Moon, but she could never quite shake the old habit of toying with her mane, even though it was now little more than a magical field the color of a starry sky. “Twilight Sparkle has been a great friend to me, and will be a welcomed addition to our family. I have great faith in her abilities. I saw her yesterday, in fact. We spoke for several hours, and our discussion led to her proposing an idea for a most interesting alchemical experiment.”

“Is that why you asked me for some of Philomena’s feathers earlier?” Celestia asked.

Luna nodded. “They are the key reagent for the experiment. It shall be a few days more before we know if we have been successful, but we are very hopeful.”

Celestia arched an eyebrow in suspicion. “It’s not some kind of magical phoenix coffee, is it?” she asked.

Luna scoffed. “Pah, of course not! Phoenix feather potions are far too spicy for a proper coffee! Bitter is better! And I shall thank you not to attempt to lecture me, yet again, on the dangers of caffeine addiction. I am not addicted, I am an aficionado!”

Celestia rolled her eyes. “Of course you are.”

“Oh, very well, then,” Luna said, her voice dropping dangerously. “While we are on the topic, let us discuss your own overconsumption.” Luna sat up, scooting to the side far enough to jab a hoof at Celestia’s pliant flanks. “Your love of cake is going right to you buttocks. Have you looked in a mirror? You have mother’s hips, and you know it!”

Celestia sputtered indignantly. “Why, I never!”

“Nay, you do!” Luna replied. “And every day, at that, while the staff is out to their midday repast! Such is the problem!”

Luna bit the inside of her cheek, holding back the grin on her face by willpower alone as she watched Celestia’s face slowly change color in time with her rising blood pressure. Celestia rose to her hooves and stormed off into the night, stomping the grass as she walked – like a child throwing a tantrum on the way to her room.

With Celestia finally out of earshot, Luna let loose the torrent of giggles she’d been holding back. A particularly brave little firefly flew close, crossing the boundary of her rapidly weakening cantrip, presumably to investigate the strange sounds she was making. The spell was only meant for temporary relief from insect activity. She lifted her hoof and the little glowbug alighted onto the tip of her shoe, staring up at her with huge, unblinking eyes and fluttering its wings curiously.

“A pleasant night to you, little friend,” Luna said with a happy coo. “Please pass along Our sincerest apologies to your compatriots about the disturbance. Our dear Sister was being uncharacteristically brooding, and at such times a sisterly tiff is just what one needs.”

The bug buzzed its wings, as if to say, “Will do!” and hustled off to join the rest of the swarm. Luna smiled as she watched it go, and stretched out on her belly to bask in the quiet dignity of her night.


* * *


Twilight walked the hallways of Canterlot General Hospital, scanning every intersecting corridor and every open door as she passed. The clean white walls were indistinguishable from one another, save for the random posting about the importance of antibacterial gel and signs pointing to the nearest eye-wash station. Only the signs at every corner and new hallway told her that she was actually getting anywhere. She looked up at the sign that said she was just down the hall from the Phlebotomist’s office, and finally far away enough from Pediatrics that the signs no longer directed her towards it.

The wedding was only a few weeks away, so Cadance’s schedule had thinned out quite a bit. Which suited Twilight fine, since it freed her own schedule for training with Spitfire and research time with Basenji.

Still, there were some things that Cadance refused to set aside, and she had jumped at the opportunity when the hospital had asked if one of the princesses would visit the children’s wing to cheer up the patients.

Cadance had been a big hit with the foals. She’d played board games with them, put on a puppet show, read some stories, and even sang for them. One little filly in particular had taken a real shine to Cadance, even despite the teasing the princess had given the filly about having ‘the kissing disease’. The child was apparently something of a budding romantic herself, and she had pestered Cadance the entire afternoon with questions about what it was like to be the Princess of Love.

Twilight, for her part, had done her best to stay at the back, close enough to do her job, but far enough to discourage the children coming up to try and distract her. A few of the colts had tried to get her to talk to them about what it was like to be in the Guard, but Cadance had thankfully noticed her predicament and regained their attention by asking if any of the children wanted to try making paper crowns.

Things had been going well right up until an old stallion in a wheelchair had rolled himself out to see what all the commotion was. The old timer had turned out to be a retired sailor who’d been admitted for chest pains. The hospital had been busy the day he’d been admitted, and he’d been placed in the children’s ward since it had an available bed.

The old veteran had proven more difficult to lure away than the colts had been, and soon enough Twilight had found herself getting her ear talked off. It wasn’t an unpleasant situation – he had a few fairly amusing stories – but Cadance had given her the slip while she’d been distracted.

To make matters worse, none of the nurses had seen where Cadance had gone off to, and questioning the children hadn’t helped, either. Asking the children had led to six different foals pointing in seven different directions – the extra direction coming from one very wobbly-looking filly that seemed to have balance problems that were probably related to something in her inner-ear.

With only vague, unreliable clues to go on, Twilight had just picked a random direction and started walking. She stopped every pony she came across, asking if they’d seen a princess wandering the halls, but the doctors and nurses were so preoccupied with their duties that Celestia herself could have ridden an elephant through the hallways and nopony would have been the wiser.

Just as she was coming up to another intersecting hallway, a unicorn mare dressed in a nurse’s uniform crossed her path in a hurry. She had a clipboard floating in front of her and was mumbling to herself as she read, paying no attention to the fact that she’d almost run headlong into somepony else.

“Excuse you,” Twilight said tersely to the retreating mare’s back.

The nurse stopped just long enough to shoot a disinterested glance over her shoulder. Her eyes widened slightly as she realized that she’d almost run smack into a Royal Guard in full dress. “Sorry,” the nurse muttered, before hurriedly continuing on her way.

Twilight rolled her eyes at the rude display. Nurses had a difficult job, which she understood, but she’d learned a long time ago that it was important to keep one eye open when reading and walking at the same time. Hopefully the nurse would start being a little more careful on her way to wherever she was going. Not everypony she might bump into was wearing thick, magically enhanced plate armor.

Twilight turned her head as she heard somepony clear his throat. A big earth pony stallion was walking out of a nearby room. He was wearing a light blue shirt with badge emblems on the sleeves, and a big flashlight hung from a cord around his neck. His Cutie Mark was an opened box of donuts and a steaming cup of coffee. She smiled at him, happy to have finally stumbled across somepony whose job it was to be observant.

“You need any help, ma’am?” the security guard asked. “You look a little lost there, um…”

Twilight followed his line of sight and realized he was looking at her galea, probably in an attempt to figure out her rank. “Decurion,” she said by way of explanation. “And yes, I’m looking for somepony.”

“This somepony an alicorn?” the stallion asked. “About my height, pink, wearing a crown?”

“That’d be her,” Twilight said. “I take it you’ve seen her, then.”

The security guard jerked his head in the direction the nurse had come from. “I saw her heading for Obstetrics,” he said. “I asked if she needed an escort but she said her personal guard would be along shortly.”

Twilight could feel her composure crumbling as she felt the rising urge to sigh into her hoof. “Thank you,” she said, giving the guard a polite nod.

The stallion returned the gesture before heading off down the hall to make his rounds.

Twilight sighed and began walking in the direction the security guard had indicated. The walls of the Obstetrics wing were more heavily decorated than the rest of the halls had been – not counting the colorful walls of Pediatrics, of course. There were notices and instructional fliers every few paces, giving tips on techniques for changing diapers and warning about common infant maladies that new parents should be on the lookout for.

There were a lot of benches and chairs scattered around, and potted plants that seemed strategically placed to make the hallways seem more welcoming. As she passed the same notice about the appropriate sleeping posture for an infant for the fifth time, Twilight realized that the clutter on the walls was probably there to give nervous family members something to look at while they waited out deliveries. 

She passed a group of mares and stallions standing in a circle, quietly laughing together and passing around oddly colored cigars. The unicorn mare in the center of the crowd noticed her walking by and broke away from the group to stop her.

“I’m gonna be an auntie,” the mare said in a thick Trottingham accent. She levitated one of the cigars from a saddlebag on her back and passed it to Twilight. “Go on, have a treat. Me bruv was a Guard back in Trottingham – retired. Reckon he might want you having one, and I bought a few too many as it is.”

“Oh, thank you,” Twilight said as she accepted the cigar. She wasn’t supposed to take gifts from the public while in uniform, but she decided to make an exception, given the reason for the offer.

The cigar turned out not to be a cigar at all, but a stick of pink bubblegum in a smokable shape. The little paper label wrapped around the end of it said ‘It’s A Girl!’ in glittery letters.

The mare went back to her group and Twilight tucked the stick of gum into a small pocket under her breastplate. The pocket was just big enough for a notepad and a pencil, but with a little wiggling she was able to slip the treat in next to the pencil.

A little down the hallway she found Cadance, sitting in a chair and looking through a large viewing window and into an observation room. She had her forehooves up on the sill and her nose pressed against the glass as she watched the nurses tend to the newborns.

Twilight wanted to chastise her fiancée for leaving without saying anything, but watching Cadance as she sat there, Twilight couldn’t find it in herself to be upset. There was another chair against the opposite wall, and Twilight moved it, setting it down right next to Cadance’s.

“You shouldn’t have left without telling me,” Twilight said as she sat down. “You know you’re not supposed to do that.”

“Sorry,” Cadance said, not actually sounding all that sorry, “I didn’t want to bother you, since you were talking with that nice old stallion. One of the colts was telling me that his mom was in the hospital, too, having a baby.” She laughed softly. “I shouldn’t laugh. He said he broke his leg falling out of a tree when he heard his mom shout that her water had broken. I just wanted to come by and see the babies. I was just going to be really quick – here and back before you noticed.”

“How’s that working out?” Twilight asked cheekily.

Cadance lowered one hoof from the window sill and took one of Twilight’s hooves in the crook of her fetlock. “It worked out fine.”

One of the babies started crying, and Twilight followed the sound of the wailing – muted by the thick glass – to where a nurse was lifting a baby out of one of the cribs. The child seemed greatly displeased to be handled in this manner, and the bundle of wooly blankets writhed as the child thrashed feebly against its swaddling. The nurse carefully passed the precious bundle to a pegasus mare who was seated in a wheelchair and wearing a hospital gown. There was another pegasus behind her, dressed in the same sterilized scrubs as the nurse, and from the way he was hovering – figuratively – he was probably the father.

The infant’s cries died quickly as its mother pressed it against her teats, coaxing it to feed.

Twilight felt a little added pressure around the hoof that Cadance was holding, and she gave a little squeeze back in kind.

They were in public, and she was in uniform, but Twilight didn’t care. Up until this point, no matter what they did or where they went, they’d always had an understanding that Twilight always had to maintain at least the pretense of professional distance. They might have snuck a hurried kiss or a few flirtatious words whenever everypony’s backs were turned, but they always kept it brief. At the moment, though, sitting where they were, Twilight decided that this wasn’t the time for distance. She levitated her galea off her head and stowed it beneath her chair.

Another baby started crying, and the attending nurse’s aide quickly shuffled over to see to its needs.

“It needs to be changed,” Cadance explained. “Babies are so very easy to read that I don’t even need magic. They’re scared, and cold, and hungry – and they’re so full of love…”

“Why are we here, Cadance?” Twilight asked, despite already being fairly sure of the answer.

Cadance didn’t answer right away, and from the look on her face she was searching for the right words to say what she wanted. Twilight didn’t pressure her. They sat and watched as the nurse diagnosed the source of the crying infant’s distress and set about correcting it. As she watched the earth pony nurse deftly removed the soiled linens with her teeth and replace them with a clean diaper, Twilight was again reminded of how glad she was that she’d been born a unicorn.

Cadance let go of Twilight’s hoof as she withdrew from the window to lean against the backrest of her chair. She fluffed her wings nervously.

“Do you still want foals some day?” Cadance asked.

Twilight had been expecting that, but the question still hit her like a brick to the face. She leaned back in her own seat, letting herself steep in the question like a teabag in hot water.

This wasn’t the first time the topic of children had come up for them, but the few times it had been brought up had been before they’d gotten engaged. It was something they’d discussed in passing, and they’d both agreed that children was something they were interested in, but the discussion hadn’t gone much further than that.

Now, it looked like it was finally time to discuss the matter a bit more seriously. That was a scary thought, even to Twilight – the idea that this was something they were going to have a real, serious, adult discussion about. They’d reached a point where they were certain they wanted to be together for a lifetime, and that commitment gave everything they discussed regarding their future a weight that it hadn’t had when they’d just been dating and fooling around.

And this one was a biggie.

Twilight looked inward, poking at her heart and trying to tease the answer out of herself. “Yeah, I do,” she answered with more ease than she would have expected.

Tension left Cadance’s shoulders, and she let out a soft, whispered sigh of relief. “That’s good,” she said, “because I do, too… I really, really want one.”

“I know you do,” Twilight said, feeling a knot in her chest at the sound of longing in Cadance’s voice.

“Can we talk about it for a while?” Cadance asked.

“Of course.”

Twilight looked up and down the hall, checking to see who might be eavesdropping. Aside from the ponies inside the nursery, they were as alone as they could possibly be while sitting in the hallway of a public building.

“We’re both females,” Cadance said simply, “so babies aren’t something we can just… you know, hope it happens. Don’t get me wrong here. I’m unbelievably happy with our sex life, but as far as babies go, we can’t just climb into bed and roll the dice when neither of us has dice to roll… in this analogy the dice are testicles.”

An adult discussion, Twilight reminded herself.

“We’ve got a lot of options, at least,” Twilight said. “Adoption, surrogates, artificial insemination… we can even try that thing with the, uh… transfiguration spell. The failure rate on that is really high, but it’s an option.”

“Bu-wha?” Cadance said, blinking as she shook her head in apparent surprise. “How do you know about that? I mean, I know about it, because that stuff is kind of in my wheelhouse as Princess of Love, but why do you know?”

“I did some research about it the first time this topic came up,” Twilight said with a grin. “It was, ah, kind of a scary idea to me, and when I get scared I do research. Things like that are less scary when you understand them better.”

Cadance chuckled quietly, grinning ear-to-ear. “Twilight, I am just so super proud of you right now,” she said.

Twilight rubbed sheepishly at the back of her neck. Even after almost a year together, a few words from Cadance could still make her stomach do flips that even Spitfire would find impressive. “Thanks. I’m still a little weirded out about this. Talking about transfiguration magic and artificial insemination just lacks… that element of romance.”

Cadance cocked her head, her grin taking on a wry, almost sultry, quality. “If it helps, we could always ask the doctors if you can mount me while they’re squirting science into me.”

Twilight groaned into her hooves. “Ugh, please don’t say ‘squirt’. All those romance books we read together have that word every third paragraph. The ick-factor is out of control with that word.”

Cadance made a thoughtful little hum. “Hm, I’ll agree with that, actually. That and ‘moist’.”

“All I’m saying,” Twilight said, hoping to push through the awkwardness with sheer force, “is that while a lot of our options involve magic, they lack your kind of magic.”

Twilight’s ears twitched and swiveled as she picked up the sound of somepony singing. She turned back to the nursery to find the pegasus holding her baby to her chest, rocking it gently from side to side as she sang. Her voice was soft, but powerfully emotional, and even through the glass, Twilight could feel the hope and love the young mother was pouring into her lullaby. The sound of her voice seemed to have an effect on the other children as much as her own, and all at once, even the fussiest of the newborns relaxed into the embrace of their swaddling clothes and fell fast asleep.

Twilight felt Cadance’s hoof take her own once again.

“It doesn’t matter how the baby came into their lives,” Cadance whispered, “this is where the real magic is.”

Twilight could only nod.

The mare’s song had slowly wound down, devolving into a simple, hummed melody, but her spell over the children had already been cast. The infant’s father leaned in and nuzzled the mother lovingly.

“When we decide that we’re ready,” Cadance said, “can I carry it?”

“If you want to,” Twilight replied.

“That easy? You don’t want to fight me for it?”

Twilight shrugged. “I’m interested in what it would be like to incubate a life inside me, sure,” she said, “but only from an academic standpoint…”

“You’re worried about your warrior’s figure, aren’t you?” Cadance asked teasingly.

Twilight cleared her throat, feeling a little rush of heat in her cheeks. “Maybe…”

“It’s fine,” Cadance said. “I’ll be fat for the both of us.”

Cadance sniffled loudly, and there was a soft pop as she conjured something up. Twilight looked over and found Cadance holding a kerchief with her free hoof, dabbing at the streaks in the fur of her cheeks that her falling tears had traced.

“Cadance, what’s wrong?” Twilight asked as she turned and took her mare’s hoof with both of her own.

“I’m being silly,” Cadance said with a watery little laugh. “I shouldn’t be getting upset. We’re finally getting this baby talk out in the open, and all I can think about is the fact that we can’t have one right now.”

“Oh,” Twilight said.

Cadance was right. Even if they were both on the same page as far as this baby thing was concerned, the timing just wasn’t right yet. They were about to get married, but that marriage meant that Twilight would be taking on an entirely new position – one that she was only barely scratching the surface of being prepared for. And if the prospect of suddenly becoming royalty wasn’t daunting enough, there was the fact that she had a demonic arch-rival waiting in the wings to do… something demonic, whatever it may be.

“I’m sorry, Cadance,” Twilight whispered, her voice reduced to a shameful murmur. “It’s my fault that you have to wait…”

“It’s nopony’s fault,” Cadance said with a sigh. “Either we both are ready or neither of us is. You’re going to be my wife. We’re a team in everything that life throws our way. Every trip, every triumph, they’re ours, together.”

“Okay…” Twilight said. She still wasn’t convinced, but there wasn’t any point in arguing the matter. “Okay… what do you want to do now, then?”

Cadance sniffled, dabbed at her nose with the kerchief, and sent it away with a quick flare of magic. “I think I just want to watch the babies for a little while longer,” she said.

“Okay.” Twilight leaned back into her chair, still holding Cadance’s hoof, and watched as the pegasus couple was ushered out of the room and another couple was given their turn in the nursery.

Twilight suddenly remembered the candy cigar she’d been given on her way over. She plucked it from her hidden pocket and removed the cellophane wrapper. She snapped it in half to offer some of the treat to Cadance.

Cadance took the bit of gum and looked down at it curiously.

“It’s a girl, huh?” she said, reading the little paper label aloud.

“Somepony is an aunt, apparently,” Twilight said as she chewed. The gum was kind of hard, but a little work softened it up.

“Neat.”


* * *


In the far northern reaches of Equestria, near the border where pony lands meet with the mountains where yaks make their homes, lies a land of snow and ice. In this desolate place, snow hares make their homes. They forage for tundra grass by day and huddle together in their burrows for warmth at night.

Sometimes the little hares would find themselves faced with yetis or wolves that had come down from the mountains in search of a meal, but they were clever, and knew when to hide. Today, though, something strange happened.

The winds suddenly began howling, and snow and ice began falling in thick sheets. The ground trembled with a terrible sound. Over the mountains in the distance, something let loose a soul-wrenching scream.

The little hares had been driven back into their warrens by the horrible sound and the tremendous shaking of the earth. Slowly the sound died away and the ground went still. Some of the hares, braver than the others, poked their heads curiously out of the ground.

Something new had appeared, seemingly from thin air. Something tall, bright, and gleaming in the last vestiges of daylight.


* * *


> Chapter 12 - Go North
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Twilight and Cadance moved through the castle halls at a hurried pace. The soft thud of Cadance’s shoes hitting the carpeted floors echoed off the walls as they cantered along. There was the feel of something heavy in the air, and Twilight could see it reflected in the stiff shoulders of every guard she passed on her way to the throne room.

Word had already gotten around that something had upset Princess Celestia. Twilight picked little bits and pieces of it out of the hushed whispers of the maids who huddled in corners, just out of sight, where they liked to pretend nopony else could see or hear them. They probably knew about as much as she did at this point, but when Princess Celestia was worked up, the tension drifted through the corridors like a ghost, and the rest of the castle had obviously picked up on it.

If they did know anything that Twilight didn’t, she had no way of finding out. As soon as she’d get close enough to make out any details of what was being said, she and Cadance would get spotted, and the sight of them hurrying towards the throne room was more than enough to zip even the loosest of lips.

“Everypony seems really nervous,” Twilight said in a whisper, giving voice to the general vibe that she was picking up in the air.

Cadance nodded. Her face set in a stony, focused glare as she cantered onwards.

Celestia had sent a guard to their room, passing along the message that their presence was required urgently. Part of being a nigh-eternal being blessed with everlasting life was the fact that Celestia wasn’t one to sweat the small stuff, so when the princess said she required somepony’s presence urgently, she meant it.

The guards standing outside the throne room saw them coming from down the hall and immediately opened the enormous doors leading to Celestia’s audience chamber. Twilight and Cadance passed through without a word, and the guards shut the door behind them.

Celestia sat upon her throne, her face an unreadable mask. At her side, just behind the throne, sat Luna. It was strange to see them together in the throne room like this. They usually took turns using the throne room to meet with their petitioners – though Luna saw far less of those in a day than Celestia did.

There was a display pedestal set off to the side, with a huge rose-colored gem beneath a glass dome. That was either a new addition to the throne room, or it had something to do with why Twilight and Cadance had been summoned.

Curiously, there was also a noticeable lack of secretarial staff around. There was always somepony hanging around with a scroll for this or a letter for that, waiting for a signature or a nod of approval. The last time that Twilight had been alone with royalty in this chamber, it was when Celestia had given her the assignment as Cadance’s personal guard.

Twilight shot a look towards Cadance as they stepped up to the dais where the other two princesses awaited them. That mission had ended with her and Cadance finding one another, but the tiny flame of their love had been stoked in the crucible of the most harrowing experience either of them had ever faced. Twilight’s stomach knotted itself painfully as the notion overcame her that she might be facing yet another event of such importance in the near future.

“I won’t mince words,” Celestia said, rising to her hooves and speaking with the full authority she carried as the oldest of the princesses. “I’ve called the two of you here because the Crystal Empire has returned.”

Twilight blinked at the unfamiliar name. At her side, Cadance looked equally baffled, if the look they’d exchanged at Celestia’s proclamation was any indication.

“What’s the Crystal Empire?” Cadance asked.

Luna stepped forward, and Celestia moved aside to make room for her sister.

“The Crystal Empire was an ancient kingdom in the far northern reaches of Equestria,” Luna said. “It was a sovereign nation, though closely allied to our own. A thousand years ago its capital city disappeared from this realm, and the many colonies it controlled have since dissolved and become their own nations, forgetting the legacy of the empire that birthed them.”

“Disappeared?” Cadance asked. “How does an entire city disappear?”

Celestia stepped forward. “To understand that, first you must understand what sort of place the Empire was.”

Celestia’s horn lit, focusing her magic around the glass dome surrounding the crystal near her throne. The dome lifted, and the gem levitated closer and was placed on the ground in front of Twilight and Cadance. Another small surge of magic, and the crystal glowed, projecting an illusion that took the shape of a strange city. The city was beautiful, the architecture exotic and glittering in the illusory sunlight. The many roads intersected in the shape of a star, or perhaps a snowflake, and at the center was an enormous spire that rose high enough in the sky to put the tallest tower in Canterlot Castle to shame. Twilight squinted at the tiny, shimmering dots moving about the map, believing they might be imperfections in the spell, but found that they were actually images of ponies with radiant coats that sparkled like diamonds.

“This is the Crystal Empire’s capital,” Celestia said. “It’s a beautiful city, and it’s home to an equally beautiful magic that protects the city and its inhabitants. The crystal ponies that live there have a connection to the land that even Luna and I don’t understand – their rulers were very secretive about it. But what we do know is that when this city is filled with the magic of love and happiness, Equestria is likewise filled with that magic.”

Celestia’s horn flared again, and her eyes glowed with a menacing power. The beautiful city changed, turning black as tar. Black crystals formed out of the ground, extending beyond the borders of the illusion like a malignancy spreading through a body.

“When the Crystal Empire is filled with fear and hatred,” Celestia said, “so, too, are those things spread across our land.”

Celestia banished the dark crystals with a surge of magic, shattering them into dust, which dissolved into unformed magic that vanished before it even hit the ground. The image of the city slowly faded back to its pristine condition.

“One thousand years ago,” Luna said, taking over the explanation once more, “the Crystal Empire fell under the control of an evil unicorn who crowned himself as King Sombra. His madness and lust for power led him to acts of cruelty, and he enslaved his own ponies towards those ends. He must have plumbed some secret of those lands, for as the taint of his dark empire grew, so did his personal power.”

“Eventually,” Celestia said, “Luna and I had no choice but to intervene. His bid to spread his influence was nothing short of a declaration of war against us. We did not wish to see harm befall the much maligned ponies of the Empire, so in lieu of sending our armies, Luna and I set off to challenge him ourselves. The battle was fierce, but in the end we were able to defeat him, turning him to shadow and banishing him to the icy North.”

Twilight frowned. “You banished him to the North as a shadow?” she asked, tilting her head in confusion. “That seems a little… convoluted, if you pardon my saying.”

Luna stepped forward again, shooting a disapproving glare at Celestia. “Sister is perhaps attempting to – unnecessarily – whitewash the fierceness of the battle. We destroyed his physical body in an attempt to kill him, but it was not enough. He was able to survive long enough for his blackened soul to escape with a portion of his magic. As he fled, tail metaphorically tucked betwixt his legs, he placed a curse upon the city. It disappeared, never to be seen again... until now.”

“He didn’t leave us much of a choice,” Celestia said tersely. Judging from the look on her face, she clearly didn’t appreciate Luna’s correction. “The darkness had warped him. There was no coming back from what he’d become, and, at the time, Luna and I did not possess the skill necessary to utilize the Elements against him.”

“So now this Empire is back?” Cadance asked. “What were the conditions of its return? Did the curse lose power? Or does this mean that Sombra is back as well?”

“We have no reason to believe Sombra has also returned,” Luna said, lifting a hoof and attempting to toss her incorporeal mane over her shoulder. “Believe me when I say this – Sister and I brutalized that tyrant with our most powerful magics. Even with his power, it would be a miracle of miracles that he could have survived as a formless shade for these past thousand-some-odd years. He held the last vestiges of his soul together with sheer obstinance, but was assuredly on his final legs as he fled into the icy barrens to die like an animal. Therefore, we can only assume that the curse has run its course… a thousand years, give or take, seems to be the standard for these things, such as they are.”

Twilight hummed thoughtfully. “Okay, then. So what’s the plan? If this Crystal Empire is so important, we can’t just sit around and hope it straightens itself out with King Sombra gone.”

Celestia sighed as she dismissed the illusory city and returned the chunk of crystal to its display case. “Luna has presented the facts rather more bluntly than I would have liked, but she isn’t wrong. She and I, for all intents and purposes, invaded and conquered the Crystal Empire with our own hooves. It was a matter of self defense, and with his… expulsion from the Empire’s throne, his realm is now Equestrian spoils. In fact, the land that the Empire’s capital once stood upon has been marked on maps as ours since the Empire disappeared. However, at the moment, the Empire is in a very delicate position. Sombra ruled the entire city with fear, and through the power of his own magic. There is no government in place to maintain the city in his absence, seeing as he went so far as to execute what few nobles the Empire had.”

“This presents a problem,” Luna said, “as it might tempt other nations into sending envoys to take control of the Empire for themselves. It is ours by right of combat, but as we have no presence there to enforce this, if some other nation was to claim it first, it could become something of a political imbroglio.”

Twilight closed her eyes and let that sink in. If this city really had returned, and it was within their lands, that did mean it was Equestrian, but there was another factor to consider – the crystal ponies that lived in the Empire. It was their city, and if they were just waking up from a thousand year nap, there was no telling what sort of chaos the city had devolved into. She couldn’t even begin trying to guess at their behavior in the absence of government presence. Her understanding of psychology was embarrassingly basic – especially compared to ponies like Cadance and Luna – and there was no telling if what little she did know would even be applicable to ponies from a thousand years in the past.

But those were concerns for later. At the moment, what was most important was getting their flag in the ground.

“So we need to be the first nation to get there and provide aid and structure,” Twilight said. “We need to be first to bring it under our wing.”

“Yes,” Celestia said, nodding. “This is a diplomatic mission. The crystal ponies were in a very delicate state when last we saw them, and there’s no telling what effect Sombra’s rule – not to mention his curse – might have had on them. We need a fine-touch for this, so a military presence is out of the question. We want to be greeted as liberators, not invaders.”

Cadance stepped forward, her head held high and chest out proudly. “Which means that you need a princess to help the crystal ponies through the transition period. Don’t worry, Aunt Celestia, I won’t let you down. I’ll go there and secure the city for you.”

Celestia shook her head. “No, you won’t. You’re going to be securing it for yourself.”

The cavernous chambers of the throne room went dead silent at that declaration. Twilight’s mouth fell open wordlessly, and though she couldn’t see Cadance’s face from the angle she was standing, she knew that her fiancée wasn’t faring much better.

“W-what?” Cadance asked. “What do you mean?”

Celestia descended from the dais, taking the steps without breaking eye contact with Cadance. The soft clip of her heavy shoes echoed in the silence, counting out the seconds like the ticking of a clock. She stood before Cadance, looking down at the smaller alicorn.

“Luna and I must stay in Canterlot,” Celestia explained. “Our place is here, ruling side-by-side. Somepony else must sit upon the Empire’s throne – somepony who understands Love in a way that no one else does. It must be somepony patient, who cares about the happiness of others… somepony who is wiser than she knows.” A tear formed in the corner of her eye and rolled down her cheek, along her jaw, and dripped from her chin onto the carpeted floors. “The Crystal Empire is the Empire of Love, and you are the Princess of Love… I knew the day that I met you that this was what destiny had chosen you for.”

“Aunt Celestia…” Cadance said breathlessly. “I don’t know what to say…”

Her voice was strained, like she was on the verge of crying, and Twilight had to fight her urge to rush to Cadance’s side at the sound of it – this was Cadance and Celestia’s moment.

Celestia sat down and pulled Cadance into an embrace, wrapping her huge wings around her niece. “Say that you’ll go and help those ponies. Say that you’ll find a way to protect them.”

“Protect them from what?” Cadance asked.

“There’s something wrong with the Empire’s magic,” Celestia explained. “If all was well, Equestria would already be feeling the effects – good or bad – of its power. I fear that Sombra may have done something to it, and you must find out what has happened and right his wrong.”

Cadance sniffled, burying her face into Celestia’s chest. “Do you think I can?”

“If anypony can, it’s you,” Celestia said softly. “And you won’t be alone. You’ll have Twilight with you, and I’ll be sending along Shining Armor and the other Elements to help.”

Cadance pulled away, sniffling loudly. “Then I can’t fail. Hearts are strongest when they’re united, and you’re sending some of the strongest hearts I’ve ever met.”

Celestia kissed the tip of Cadance’s nose. “That’s my girl,” she said.

Twilight smiled, wiping away a stray tear of her own. Cadance had always seen Princess Celestia as a second mother to her, and it was wonderful to see the two of them sharing this tender moment. More than anything, being present to see this made her feel like a part of this family.

“It is touching,” Luna said suddenly, her voice a whisper so as not to disturb Cadance and Celestia as they embraced one another.

Twilight almost jumped as she realized that Luna had somehow snuck up on her. She’d been so engrossed in the family drama that she’d let her guard down for a moment.

“Yeah,” Twilight said, nodding.

“I must warn you, however, that you should be cautious… Sister believes this to be a simple diplomatic mission, but I fear it may be more complicated.”

Twilight’s eyes narrowed. “Complicated?” she asked. “You said Sombra was dead.”

“Verily.” Luna sniffed derisively. “But that does not mean there may not be surprises awaiting you. Sister and I took to wing in our assault, and battled the bastard in the skies. While I do not believe the crystal ponies themselves will pose you any danger, there is no telling what magical hazards might await potential invaders within King Sombra’s stronghold.”

“So you’re saying I should watch my back?”

Luna considered her words for a moment before replying in all due seriousness. “I am saying that you should watch everyone’s backs.”


* * *


The train chugged along the tracks, rocking slowly from side to side as the frozen winds buffeted the train. There was a sudden, powerful thud that resounded from ahead of the engine, and the entire train shook with enough force to rattle the windows. They’d hit another bit of hard packed snowdrift. There was no danger in it, as the train they were on was built specifically for smashing through snow and ice piled onto the tracks.

Twilight had actually ridden this rail line before. It was a single line of track, separated from the rest of the rail system, which extended to the furthest edge of the Northern Equestrian territory. Princess Celestia had ordered it built decades before, back when trains were just becoming popular and the rush to lay track over every inch of Equestria had created a booming railway industry. Publically, the line was built with the hopes of one day reopening trade negotiations with the nation of Yakyakistan, but the people of that land were notoriously difficult to negotiate with and the entire plan had fallen through.

In the end, the line had only been used to transport military personnel up into the tundra in order to practice cold-weather maneuvers and survival tactics. Twilight had spent seven days up here with just a knife, a canteen, a thermal blanket, a folding shovel, and a sheet of paper stuffed into an envelope with the orders ‘Don’t Die’.

That certification test was one of the biggest reasons she hated the cold.

Now that the Empire had returned, however, the real reason for the line’s construction was apparent. Celestia had always assumed that there was a chance the Empire would pop back up, even before Cadance had ascended as the Princess of Love. She knew that there would be a rush to get an envoy in place to lay proper claim to the city, and a train was the newest, fastest way to ensure she could send as large a detachment as she wanted.

The train shook again, this time hard enough to rattle every seat in the car – including the one Twilight was sitting on.

“Those bumps are getting more frequent,” Cadance said from beside Twilight. Twilight was forced further against the back of the seat as Cadance leaned across her to look out the window at the falling snow.

“We’re getting further north, which means it’s getting colder,” Twilight explained. She redid the knot of her scarf – the one Cadance had given to her the night she’d proposed – and rubbed her shoulders in anticipation of stepping off the train. “More cold, more ice.”

For a while, neither Cadance or Twilight said anything. Twilight just watched as the snow whizzed by the window, tossed aside by the plow attached to the front of the train. The rumble of the tracks and the roar of the train cutting through the snow had long ago blended together into a single static noise in the background, like a radio failing to pick up a signal.

“Am I crazy, or is this crazy?” Cadance asked in a whisper. “We’re going to a magical empire that neither of us has ever heard of before, to meet with an entire city of abused ponies that have been a thousand years displaced from time, and I’m supposed to take the throne?”

“It’s a little out there, I guess…” Twilight said lamely.

She was honestly still feeling a little numb to the whole situation. She knew what they were doing – what their mission was – but the situation still didn’t feel… real, yet.

Twilight felt a tap on her shoulder, drawing her gaze from the window. Cadance was chewing her lip in that way she sometimes did when she was especially nervous. There was an almost sensual quality to the look, and the light flutter in Twilight’s belly made her feel a little dirty. Cadance was reaching out – this was no time to be admiring how pretty she looked when she was troubled.

“Twilight, seriously,” Cadance said imploringly, “last night you and I stayed up until the middle of the night pitching ideas for erotic Daring Do fanfiction.”

“You were the one pitching all the eroticism,” Twilight countered. “I wanted to add more fight scenes.”

“The point is,” Cadance said, soldiering on despite the correction, “that last night you and I were screwing around with a beloved children’s tale, and this morning we woke up and were told that we were going to become the rulers of our own kingdom.”

Twilight could almost hear the other shoe dropping with the grim finality of a judge’s gavel. The bottom fell out of her stomach, and she felt the very sudden and very real need to lie down.

For months, Twilight had been worrying over whether or not she would make a good princess when she and Cadance finally tied the knot. What she’d taken to calling her ‘Princess Studies Time’ hadn’t managed to cut into her physical and combat training, but every moment that wasn’t spent with Cadance, family and friends, or training, was spent in the library trying to amass the necessary skills she needed to not completely embarrass herself in open court.

And that had been when she’d thought she’d be the lowest mare on the princess totem pole – the fourth in line for any kind of real decision-making. Now Cadance was getting her own nation – or principality, or whatever – to rule, and Twilight would ostensibly be her co-ruler.

“Yeah, welcome to me about five hours ago,” Cadance said, her voice dripping with something that might have been satisfaction over her point being made, but also just as easily might have been pity. “The face you’re making is the way I felt when this train pulled out of the station.”

Twilight’s entire body felt numb as she leaned against the wall. The train was heated, but she could still feel a bit of the chill from outside through the walls of the car.

“What’ve we gotten ourselves into?” Twilight asked with a heavy sigh.

“Sorry,” Cadance mumbled after a long moment. “My fault again, I guess... Me and my stupid destiny…”

Twilight gave herself a hard mental slap. This wasn’t the time to be maudlin.

“I don’t believe in destiny,” Twilight said, “you know that. Choices are what brought us here. Yours, mine, Princess Celestia’s... even Prismia’s choices helped bring us to where we are right now.” She shifted her weight, leaning to the other side so she could rest her head against Cadance’s shoulder. The numbness she’d felt earlier had blossomed into a lump of worry and uncertainty in the pit of her stomach, roiling and burning like molten iron – but leaning against Cadance like this made the sensation tolerable. Drawing strength from the physical contact, Twilight felt confident enough to reassure Cadance, despite her own doubts. “Even still. You have nothing to be sorry about. I’m here because I want to be at your side, and you’re here because you’re the best mare for the job.”

Cadance was quiet for a long time, and the radio-static of the train’s movement and the comforting warmth of Cadance’s body tugged at the edges of Twilight’s consciousness, trying to lure her to sleep. It might have worked, if she weren’t so wound up by the daunting task ahead of them.

When Cadance broke the silence, her voice was so soft that her words were almost drowned out by the ambient sounds of the train.

“I put on a brave front for my aunts,” she said, “but that was just me getting swept up in the moment. Now that I’ve had time for this all to sink in, I’m… I’m really scared Twilight. What if I’m not the best mare for the job? Aunt Luna has spent the entire last year acclimating herself to the modern world after being away for a thousand years. If anypony is qualified to help the crystal ponies, it’s her.”

“Those ponies also suffered at the hooves of a crazy unicorn dictator that ruled them with fear and magic,” Twilight countered. “What they need, more than anything, is somepony who can show them how to love again.”

“I’m the Princess of Love,” Cadance said. It was a simple statement, but the way she said it bespoke something more complex behind the words. “I know everything that can be learned from studying love. I’ve helped couples find it in their hearts to find comfort and contentment through love… but this isn’t even remotely the same. I’m not helping parents with their wayward children, or patching up a marriage after some tawdry affair. How am I supposed to help an entire city relearn the meaning of something so… so complex? I’ve never done anything like this before.”

The uncertainty in Cadance’s voice was like a knife in Twilight’s chest, sharp and colder than ice. Just like that, as she heard the need and the worry in Cadance’s beautiful voice, all the doubt and fear that Twilight felt in her heart fell away. It became background noise, like the roar of the train and wind bleeding in through the walls. Whatever lingering doubts Twilight had were still there, but now they were tucked away in the deepest parts of her being, shoved aside as insignificant in the face of Cadance’s needs.

Cadance had begun to wring her hooves nervously, and Twilight reached out to gently hold her lover’s hooves still. Twilight brought one of Cadance’s hooves up to her lips, kissing it lightly, then pulled it to her chest, holding it against her heart.

“You can do it, Cadance,” she said.

Cadance chewed her lip. “How do you know?”

“Because you can teach anyone to love,” Twilight said, more sure of that fact than she’d ever been sure of anything. “I know it because you’re the one that taught me how to love.” She brought a hoof Cadance’s face, lightly caressing the elegant lines of her princess’ jaw, tracing a path down the neck, and leaving her hoof pressed firmly against the spot above Cadance’s heart. They sat there for a moment, feeling one another’s hearts beating. “You said you can always sense my heart, no matter where I am, right? If things start seeming like they’re getting too complicated, just focus on that.”

Cadance smiled as she gently stroked Twilight’s chest, mussing up her fur. “You always know what to say,” she said softly. “Partners, right?”

“Partners always,” Twilight said with a nod. “You watch my back, I watch yours. This whole thing kind of got thrown on us like a sack of bricks, but scary as it is, I know we can do anything as long as we stick together. I mean… it’s not like we’ve never had to roll with the punches before, right?”

Cadance snickered. “You’re starting to become a real Miss Spontaneous, over here… but you’re right. I can do anything as long as I have you standing next to me.”

“We’ll help them, Cadance, don’t worry,” Twilight declared. “We’re going to help your ponies.”

“Our ponies, Twilight,” Cadance said insistently. “Ours.”

The door at the front of the train slammed open suddenly, shattering the microcosm that Twilight and Cadance had erected around themselves with howling, freezing winds. Spitfire walked in, followed by Basenji. They shook themselves off, sloughing off clumps of snow that began melting into sludge the second they touched the floor of the heated compartment. The gap between the cars was maybe three full-strides wide, but that short distance had been enough to cover them in snow.

Spitfire looked up and lifted an eyebrow at the pair. “Whoa, uh, sorry,” she said, laughing nervously. “Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“It’s fine,” Twilight said as she pulled away from Cadance. She smoothed out the spots on her coat where Cadance had gotten a little gropey and cleared her throat. “What’s the word?”

Basenji and Spitfire had gone up to talk to the engineer and his assistant. They were the only passengers on the train, and for the moment, this whole Crystal Empire business was being treated as a need-to-know situation, so the train’s crew had been dismissed aside from the two ponies required to run the engine.

Spitfire walked over and took a seat on one of the benches across the aisle from where Twilight and Cadance sat. Basenji took the seat opposite her.

“Just a bit further until the end of the track,” Spitfire said. “Not that I’m in much of a hurry to get there, mind. I been here before – cold weather survival cert – and trust me when I say it’s no picnic in the Canterlot Gardens.”

“Don’t have to tell me,” Twilight said with a grin. “I took the same class.”

Spitfire laughed. “Yeah? Not many unicorns got the backbone for it. Even some pegasi go pale at the thought of that one.”

“It wasn’t fun, that’s for sure.” Twilight looked to Basenji, whose nose was pressed firmly against the glass as he watched the snowdrifts whizz by. “What about you, Basenji? Ever seen the snow before?”

“At a distance,” he said. “In the winter months, snow can be seen atop the highest mountain peaks in my land. It gathers there to later melt, and becomes the lifeblood of the grasslands during the dry seasons when wild storms are not seen for many months on end. Never before have I had the pleasure of seeing it up close, however.” He plucked a small clump of snow that had stuck inside one of the folds of his cloak and watched his melt between his claws. “I believe I like it, somewhat.”

“Well, in a few more minutes you’re going to get your fill of the stuff,” Spitfire said with a snort. “Or maybe you won’t. You’ve got the shaggiest coat out of all of us, so you might not even feel the cold, even when we’re up to our necks in snow.”

“It shall be an experience,” Basenji said with a shrug.

Cadance cleared her throat daintily, drawing attention to herself. “Can I just say it again? Thank you both for coming with us.” She flashed them a grateful smile. “Your experience as entertainers will be invaluable on this mission… and on a personal note, I just feel much better knowing that I have friends here with me to back me up.”

Cadance’s admittance got a laugh out of her companions, and small peck on the cheek from Twilight.

“I am unsure of how much help I can be, but I will do what can be done to support you in this trial, my friend,” Basenji said, grinning that huge, toothy dog-grin of his. “It was an honor to be asked to accompany you.”

“Ditto from me,” Spitfire added. “I’m on sabbatical from the Bolts anyway. It’s better than sitting on my rump and waiting for the action to come to me.”

“We might be in for a bit of that if Luna’s guess about traps pans out,” Twilight said, allowing a note of seriousness into her voice. “Which reminds me. I’ve got something for you, Spitfire.”

Twilight hopped off her seat and pulled her pack from the compartment beneath the bench. She opened one of the bags and began digging around, pushing aside her various supplies and emergency rations as she looked for Spitfire’s gift. Her new saddlebags had been enchanted with help from Luna, allowing them to store much more than what should normally be possible while also keeping the weight down. As a result of the modification, the bags were able to hold a big enough kit to shame her old steamer trunk at least twice over – though, the trade-off was that it was a bit less organized.

“Hold out your arm, please,” Twilight said.

Spitfire did as was asked without question, sticking out her left foreleg. Twilight levitated a brown canvas holster – similar to the one she wore her chakram in, though much smaller – onto Spitfire’s bicep and secured it with a pair of elastic straps.

Spitfire lifted an eyebrow at the holster and the item it held. “A flask?” she asked, her voice light with amusement. She poked at the brushed steel of the flask with the tip of her wing. “I know you hate the cold, Twi, but if you want a rescue dog to bring you whiskey, I think Basenji is the most qualified out of all of us.”

Basenji made a curious noise, his ears flicking as he tilted his head in confusion.

“Ah, I’ll… I’ll just explain that joke later,” Spitfire said, coughing into her hoof.

“It’s not whiskey,” Twilight said, rolling her eyes. “That’s a special alchemical brew that Luna and I made out of phoenix feathers. Rub it on your hooves and it’ll react to the internal magic you use when you fly.”

Spitfire lifted an eyebrow suspiciously. “React how?”

“It’ll catch on fire.”

“Okay, but then won’t I just be on fire…?” Spitfire asked nervously.

“It’s phoenix fire,” Twilight explained. When she drew a blank stare from Spitfire, she sighed. “Phoenix fire is incredibly pure and magical. As long as your magic is fueling it, you control it. It’ll only burn what you want it to burn.”

“Well, that’s a relief,” Spitfire said with a sigh of her own. She lifted a wing and plucked the flask from its holster. Pegasi were astonishingly dexterous with those appendages, and she had no trouble holding the flask with a folded wing as she pulled the cap free with her teeth to peer into the mouth of the flask. “So what happens if I take a swig of this stuff?”

“No!” Twilight cleared her throat as she realized that her shout had startled the rest of her companions. “Er, no, you don’t want to drink that gunk. It’s for topical use only – I cannot stress that enough. That’s pure, concentrated essence of phoenix magic… and a few other things. Luna and I tossed around some ideas about what might happen if you drank it, and none of our scenarios were...”

“Pleasant?”

“…survivable.”

“Right, right,” Spitfire said, gulping nervously, “topical use only.”


* * *


The train pulled up to the old platform at the end of the line. The brakes squealed angrily as they fought against the momentum of thousands of tons of rolling steel, announcing their presence for miles around. The smoke from the engine’s stack slowed to a trickle, but the snow-catcher at the front of the train still billowed steam as the heating charms it carried instantly melted and evaporated the falling snow in midair.

Twilight was the first off the train and onto the platform. The structure was made of wood and whined and creaked to accept the burden of her weight. The builders had clearly enchanted it to protect against the harsh elements when it had first been erected, and here and there were signs of repairs that had been slapped on over the last century or so. Still, the incessant snowstorms, with their constant wind and hail, had weathered away much of the wood and long-ago peeled off the original paint. At this point, the wooden planks were probably held together more by ice than by nails.

The blizzard had picked up considerably in the last few minutes, and the falling snow was a wall of solid white that lowered visibility to less than a dozen meters. It was the middle of the day, but the cloudy gray sky muted Celestia’s sun, dispersing the light into a dull glow that only just barely illuminated the surrounding area. Twilight shivered in the wind and tugged at her scarf with her magic, trying to cover as much of her throat as she could. The craft that Cadance had put into the heating spells in the scarf was immaculate, but in a temperature like this you couldn’t ever completely shake the cold, no matter what you did.

She adjusted the saddlebags on her back, moving them out of the way of her chakram in case she had to draw it in a hurry. At the very least, a pair of saddlebags was an extra layer of clothing to help hold back the cold.

Spitfire was next off the train, then Basenji and Cadance. They each were wearing a pair of ski goggles that Twilight had picked out of the armory before they’d left Canterlot.

Cadance was dressed in her regalia, freshly polished and ready to impress. Twilight had urged her to put on a scarf, but Cadance had insisted that she was fine.

Spitfire was wearing a thick flight jacket, the flask containing the brew Twilight had given her stuffed into the breast pocket. Basenji was wearing his cloak, and carrying his drum and satchel, as usual. Aside from Twilight, he was the only member of their group who had brought along any kind of kit.

The whistle blew as soon as they were off the train and the engineer started up the second engine that had been hooked up in place of a caboose. The rail line was a dead end at this point, and the only way back was to go the same way they’d just come.

“He’s in a hurry,” Spitfire said, raising her voice enough to be heard over the howling winds.

“The conductor’s got orders to double-time it back to Canterlot,” Twilight explained. “That’s the only ice-breaker train we’ve got and he still needs to bring Shining and his friends up here.”

Cadance seemed to be having some trouble with her goggles, so Twilight stepped up and helped her adjust the strap. “Thanks, but do we really need these?” she asked. “You don’t think they ruin my regal poise? I kind of have a look going here and I have to make a good impression.”

“The wind’s blowing pretty bad,” Twilight explained. “A blizzard isn’t like the snow fall you’re used to. The snowflakes aren’t all that fun when the wind blows them into your eyes at over thirty-miles-per-hour.”

“You could have just said yes,” Cadance said with a huff. Her breath condensed in the air in front of her face like a little cloud, and she waved it away with a hoof.

Twilight rolled her eyes – pointlessly, since they were hidden by the reflective lenses of her goggles – and lifted her chin towards the wall of white behind her.

“The track is laid pointing due-north,” she said, “so that means east is this way. Princess Celestia said as long as we head east, we should hit the city eventually. She isn’t sure how close she was in guessing where to put the rail line, so we might be in for a hike. Visibility is low, so everyone stay together.”

The others all nodded and Twilight took point. They slowly crossed the snowfields. The fierce howling of heavy winds pushed at them from all directions and drowned out the sound of snow crunching beneath their steps. They had to be cautious as they moved forward. Not because of any potential traps, but because snow hares made their homes in these fields. Their warrens were basically open holes in the ground covered by snow, and one wrong step could mean breaking a leg if you weren’t careful.

Luckily, it seemed like Celestia had been closer than she’d imagined in estimating where the Empire would pop back up. Within a few minutes of walking they’d found their first sign of the Empire – two enormous crystal formations slowly emerging from behind the veil of falling snow – and Twilight led the group in that direction for a closer look.

Twilight frowned at the sight, unsure what to make of it. The crystals stood at least five meters high, and were spaced apart wide enough for two wagons to pass one another. Three more crystals, each about the size of a pony’s head, were arrayed between the two pillars like a banner of some sort. The crystals floated in the air, seemingly suspended by nothing and bobbing in the wind. On a hunch, Twilight used her magic to brush aside the snow between the two pillars, and to her surprise there were flagstones beneath the snow.

“Looks like we found the main road,” Twilight shouted over the wail of the storm.

Using the road was much safer than walking through the fields, so Twilight picked up the pace, pushing the group a little harder. The winds continued to howl at them, but thankfully the snowfall seemed to be letting up the closer they got to the city.

Twilight spared a glance back to find Cadance marching with her head held high, but Twilight could see the nervousness that she was trying to suppress in the almost imperceptible hesitation of her steps. Twilight slowed down a bit and fell in step with her fiancée.

“You okay?” Twilight asked, leaning in close so she could be heard over the wind without having to shout.

“Nervous,” Cadance replied. “But we’re almost there, right? I’ll be fine.”

Twilight nodded and cast a look back to where Basenji and Spitfire were walking together. Spitfire was actively scanning their surroundings for danger, but the happy grin she was wearing belied the state of readiness she was in. Beside her, Basenji was likewise on guard. His ears were perked and swiveling. A light layer of frost had gathered on his nose, and his cheeks were bright red. At first, she thought he might be flushed from the cold, but as he turned his head towards Spitfire he quickly looked away again.

“You guys doing okay?” Twilight asked.

“I caught Basenji eating snow when he thought nobody was looking!” Spitfire said, laughing happily.

Twilight almost chastised them both about staying on task, but Cadance let out a light giggle that seemed to relieve her of some of the tension she’d just been feeling, so Twilight felt obligated to let the matter slide. Cadance needed to be at her best so she could make a good impression with the crystal ponies. If laughing at Basenji helped Cadance, Twilight wasn’t going to complain about it.

Following the road, they made it to the actual city in relatively short order. The stones that paved the road outside the city ended, becoming a street of smooth, glassy crystal. They marched into the street, far enough that the buildings could shelter them from the winds. It was strange, but the snow seemed to have subsided considerably once they’d gotten within a stone’s throw of the city. She looked back, and sure enough, the snow and winds were still wreaking havoc on the snowfields outside the city. Twilight could only shake her head and put that thought aside for the moment.

Everything in the Crystal Empire was obviously made of crystal – the roads, the buildings, the signs. Even some of the shrubbery seemed to be made of sculpted crystal. In the distance, the magnificent spire of the Crystal Palace rose proudly into the sky, as though a piece of the city itself was reaching for the heavens. A fine layer of snow covered everything, and the perfect, crystalline stillness of the place made it feel like they were all standing inside of an enormous snow globe.

Up close, the buildings were even more stunning than they had been in the illusion that Princess Celestia had shown them. The sharp, irregular angles looked too random to be designed, reminding Twilight more of the natural formations that she’d seen down in the quartz mines below Canterlot. It was almost like the crystal ponies had somehow grown crystals as large as buildings, and then hollowed them out to build their homes.

Twilight removed her goggles and stowed them in her bags. The others followed her lead, and Twilight packed Cadance and Basenji’s goggles. Spitfire held off the offer with a shake of her head, preferring to keep her eyewear dangling around her neck.

“Looks deserted,” Twilight commented. They’d passed a few homes already, but they hadn’t seen so much as a light in the windows.

“They’re probably all inside their houses, trying to stay warm,” Spitfire said.

That made sense, but a lot of the buildings had protrusions that appeared to be chimneys, and none of them had the telltale smoke of a fire burning in the hearth. “There’s no smoke coming out of the fireplaces, though,” Twilight said.

“Perhaps they are burning firestones,” Basenji said. He rummaged in his pack and held out a number of rocks that were the same dark color as rust. “They burn like coal, without making smoke.”

Twilight frowned. If they had access to stones like that, why would they build chimneys for their fireplaces? Maybe they did have those stones, but they were rare? But if that were the case, they should still be seeing at least one or two pillars of smoke.

“Maybe,” Twilight muttered.

“Let me try something,” Cadance said.

Twilight nodded and stepped aside.

Cadance cleared her throat and stepped forward, flaring her wings and straightening her posture into something more appropriate for a public address. When she spoke, her voice boomed, filling the air with her presence and echoing across the silent streets.

“Greetings to you, ponies of the Crystal Empire,” Cadance said, the Royal Canterlot Voice adding a slight audible warble to her speech. “I am Princess Cadance of Equestria. I am here to help you. Please, if you can hear my voice, come out and greet me.”

They all waited, listening and watching for any sign that someone might have heard Cadance’s greeting. The only thing that came back to them was the howl of the winds outside the city, the fading echo of Cadance’s voice blowing through the city like a banshee, and a soft thud as a clump of snow was shaken loose from a rooftop by the force of Cadance’s speech.

Spitfire let out a sharp whistle, drawing the group’s attention. “There,” she said, lifting her chin in the direction of a three-story house that looked to be made of some kind of sapphire. “I saw the curtains move in that window.”

“Let’s go see who’s home,” Twilight said as she walked towards the front door.

They walked across the lawn, the frozen blades of grass shattering and snapping like bits of glass. Twilight lifted a hoof and knocked on the door. Cadance stood next to her on the front step, with Basenji behind them and looking on curiously. Spitfire stood a bit further away and kept an eye on the street with those sharp pegasus eyes of hers.

They stood in front of the door for a minute or two, waiting for someone to answer. Twilight lifted her hoof to knock again, but the sound of a deadbolt slamming open stayed her hoof, and the door opened to reveal a mare.

The mare was just a bit shorter than average, and she didn’t look particularly crystalline for a crystal pony. Her coat was a dull, muted gray – not gray with age, but more like the way an old bit of cloth might lose its color from being left out in the sun. Her white mane was done up in a high, tightly coiled bun that looked like it hadn’t been in style since the Hayllenistic Period, and the toga and sandals she wore were likewise outside of fashionableness. The mare looked up at Twilight and Cadance with a vacuous look and a glassy quality to her eyes.

Somepony was home, but the lights definitely weren’t on.

“Hello,” the mare said. “Sorry, I didn’t answer. I couldn’t figure out how to open my door.”

Twilight blinked, and at her side Cadance seemed likewise taken aback.

Cadance cleared her throat daintily. “It’s no problem at all,” she said, quickly regaining her confident poise. “I don’t know if you heard the proclamation I just made, but my name is Princess Cadance. I’m from Equestria and I’m here to help you.”

The mare stared at Cadance silently, her eyes blinking with the sort of disinterested languor one might expect from a sloth. After a few tense seconds she nodded.

“I heard you,” the mare said. The light reflected in her eyes unnaturally, and the mare held a hoof to her head to rub at her temple. “Didn’t Equestria have somepony else as princess? I can’t remember, but… no, yes, I don’t think it was somepony named Cadance… maybe it was two ponies?”

“I’m, um… I’m new,” Cadance said. Once again, she seemed at a loss for what to say in the face of somepony who seemed so clearly out of it. “My aunts are the Royal Pony Sisters, Celestia and Luna. Do you remember them?”

The dazed mare winced, sucking air through her teeth and letting out a ragged sigh. “I don’t know,” she whispered tiredly. “I can’t remember…” She looked up at Cadance and Twilight again with her eyes still all glass and fog. “Do either of you know how to light a fire? I can’t remember how.”

Twilight cautiously stepped forward enough to thrust her head into the home for a look around, and the mare obliged her by backing up a bit. It was a very simple house, but what little furniture was present had been tossed and overturned, piled up against the walls and in front of windows. There was a throw pillow and a pair of flints sitting in the hearth, as though the foggy-headed mare had tried to light the cushion on fire. There was a perfectly usable stack of firewood next to the hearth. Twilight levitated the pillow out and put a few pieces of wood in its place. She lit a fire with her magic and within seconds the warm glow of the hearth was heating the room.

“Thank you,” the mare said emotionlessly. She went to the fire and spun in a circle in front of it, pawing at the rug like a cat getting ready for a nap. Sure enough, she laid herself down, curling up as she hugged her tail to her chest, and quickly fell asleep.

Twilight closed the door and left the mare to sleep.

“Cadance, what the hay…?” she asked, looking up at her fiancée.

Cadance shook her head sadly. “I don’t know…”

“Could you not sense anything with your magic of the heart?” Basenji asked.

“Sensing someone else’s emotions is a tricky thing,” Cadance explained. “If someone is emotionally disturbed, or if they’re directing their emotions at me, I can pick it up no problem. Otherwise, I need to use magic to look into someone’s heart.”

“Did you try it on her?” Twilight asked.

“Yes, but I didn’t probe too deeply,” Cadance said. “There’s a… fuzziness around her heart. Like it’s being gripped by something malevolent.”

“Could it be the curse of this King Sombra?” Basenji asked.

“That’d be my guess,” Cadance said. “I don’t dare search any deeper than I have until I better understand what we’re dealing with here… It looks like Aunt Luna was right. This might be more complicated than we’d thought.”

Spitfire let out a small chuckle from her guard position at the rear. “More complicated than a regime change and annexing an entire Empire into Equestria?”

“In a word? Yes.”


* * *


Cadance had insisted that they try a few more houses as they made their way towards the center of the city. The results had varied, but every pony that managed to answer the door was at least as befuddled as the first one they’d met. In the end, they’d decided that the best thing to do was to press on and make for the palace, where they might finally get some answers.

From afar the Crystal Palace was impressive, but up close it was downright awe-inspiring. The entire structure was raised off the ground by four pillars, and each of those cornerstones held a massive staircase that wound upwards into the palace itself, allowing ascent into the structure. The pillars formed four giant archways, leading to a courtyard with a massive domed ceiling.

It was beautiful, but a strange design. It was as though the courtyard was meant to protect something at the exact heart of the city, but there was nothing. Not even a statue or a fountain. 

The inside of the palace was likewise unadorned. Much like the homes of the crystal ponies they’d met with along the way, the walls were bare, with not even so much as a tapestry to brighten up the endless halls of smooth crystal. It was stark, uninviting, and the chill they all felt as they moved through the halls was only partly because of the temperature.

At the very least, Luna had been wrong about traps, so far, and they were eventually able to make their way to the third floor of the palace uncontested. While the rest of the castle hadn’t had so much as a throw rug, a long carpet ran the length of the hallway on this floor, leading from an enormous pair of doors out onto a large balcony that overlooked the entire western half of the city. The balcony was most likely there for the crowned ruler to issue public proclamations, but was big enough to accommodate a sizeable group of speakers.

The big doors were open, revealing the throne room, and they made their way towards it. There were other doors along the hallway, though they were far less impressive and a quick peek showed them to be offices for castle staffers and other miscellaneous meeting rooms.

The throne room had simple curtains hanging from the windows, dyed to match the same dark violet as the carpet. It was the bare minimum of décor, but it was positively ostentatious when compared to the rest of the castle.

As she looked around the sparse room, Twilight couldn’t help but compare it to the throne room back in Canterlot, with its collection of stained glass murals. It felt greatly lacking in comparison.

The throne – like everything in this city – was coldly beautiful. The crystals that formed the throne sparkled and shimmered in the light pouring in through the windows, and as their group drew near, Twilight realized that thousands of tiny gems were suspended within the crystal. A small, whimsical part of Twilight’s brain laughed at the thing, likening the suspended gems to the little bits of fruit that her mother put into gelatin moulds.

“What’s the deal with you three and creepy cities?” Spitfire asked as they approached the throne. “This place is practically a ghost town.”

“It can’t be a ghost town if there’re ponies living here,” Twilight said.

“If you call that living. You saw how they were. They’re like… like phantoms.” Spitfire shuddered.

“That’s why we’re here,” Cadance said. She stepped up to the throne, hesitating for only a moment as she lifted her hoof to climb the steps onto the dais.

Twilight saw the hesitation and knew what she had to do. “Cadance,” she said. Cadance looked back, her eyes filled with a trembling resolve, and Twilight smiled. “I’m here with you, honey. I’m not going anywhere.”

Cadance smiled weakly, closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and ascended the steps to sit upon the throne. “We’re going to save these ponies,” Cadance said, her voice carrying a note of authority and power as it rang throughout the room. “Basenji, you’ve been very quiet. Have you noticed anything?”

The diamond dog frowned, his ear flicking nervously as he considered his words. “I have been… contemplative,” he said. “This place is very strange. The people of a city fill it with life, and so they give to it a heart which beats – this is part of the Ways. But the Ways of this city are so very weak that I can barely hear the rhythm.”

Cadance scowled. “We need more information,” she said assertively. “We’re going to need to continue knocking on doors, checking to see if there’s anypony around that might be fighting off this curse, or whatever it is.”

“That’s going to be a bit of a pain,” Spitfire said, sighing as she fluffed her wings in irritation. “Lot of doors.”

“It still needs to be done,” Cadance said. “If even one pony is able to tell us what’s going on in this city, it’ll be a huge help.”

“I’m not disagreeing,” Spitfire said, raising her hooves defensively. “I’m just grumbling – as is my way.”

“Before that, I think we need to have a better look around the castle,” Twilight said. “The upper floors need to be secured. After that, I think Basenji and I should start looking into how this place works. Since information is what we need, we need to look for books.”

Cadance laughed demurely, hiding her smile behind her hoof. “Of course you want to go looking for a library.”

A furious, otherworldly howl suddenly pierced the air, shaking the palace violently and ending further discussion. All four members of their group fell to the ground, clutching their ears in a futile attempt to block out the noise. The howl ended as suddenly as it began, and Twilight rose to her hooves shakily.

“What was that?” Spitfire asked. She took to the air and dashed down the hallway towards the balcony. “Twilight! You need to come see this!”

Twilight threw off her saddlebags. They’d only weigh her down. It was a straight shot to the balcony, so she charged her magic and teleported directly next to Spitfire.

In the far distance to the west, black stormclouds were gathering with an unnatural speed. Soon the entire horizon was blanketed with a churning, angry cloud of darkness that drew in on itself as it rushed in their direction. In the huge, billowing mass of darkness, something was glowing. A pair of green eyes glared at them, filled with pure, absolute hatred.

A low, rumbling wind washed over the city, carrying a voice like thunder. “Crystals…”

“What is that?” Cadance asked fearfully.

The clouds gathered even more quickly, and within seconds they’d become a stallion’s face. It was a unicorn, with a wickedly curving horn that glowed bright red. “Awaken, my slaves…”

“I think that’s King Sombra,” Twilight said, grinding her teeth. “Not quite as dead as we were led to believe.”

Twilight knew right then that she’d be having words with Luna next time she saw her.

“The crystal pony discussion is tabled for the moment!” Twilight said commandingly. “Cadance, Basenji, you two hold down the fort! Spitfire, you’re with me!”

Twilight gathered her magic and cast a spell that made her body very light. After the success she’d had using a mass-altering defensive spell as an improvised offensive attack against Ammit, she’d invested heavily in gravity magic and now counted a weight-reducer among her arsenal.

She leapt into the air, soaring much higher and further than should have been possible with her physical strength alone. She focused her magic again once she began to fall, and teleported herself closer to the ground, tweaking the spell to arrest a bit of her momentum. Between the teleportation and the power of the gravity spell, she’d manage a drop of several dozen meters to land safely. She didn’t waste time as she hit the ground trotting, tearing through the streets as fast as her legs would carry her.

The freezing wind whistled by Twilight’s ears, nipping at every inch of her flesh where her fur was thinnest – the tips of her ears, on her face, down her throat, and on her belly. She ignored it and the burning in her lungs as she drew in heavy breaths of near-arctic air.

Spitfire was above, the reflective lenses of her goggles obscuring her eyes, and she was easily keeping pace with Twilight. She’d pulled off the flight jacket she’d had earlier, and the flask filled with the phoenix oil had been returned to the holster on her arm.

“You got a plan, Twi?” Spitfire asked, shouting to be heard over the rush of wind as they hurried down the deserted streets to meet the cloud of darkness at the outskirts of the city.

“Not yet,” Twilight said between breaths. “But I’m just going to throw fire at him until I think of something better. It’s worked for me in the past!”

The sound of Spitfire’s laughter echoed loudly in their wake.


* * *


Cadance stood on the balcony, watching as Twilight and Spitfire galloped full-tilt at the quickly approaching mass of clearly evil magic. She paced back and forth, fretting in a most unladylike manner and not caring about how unladylike it was.

“Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear,” she muttered nervously. “Oh no, oh dear.”

It was happening again. Twilight was leading the way into danger, while she stood at the back and waited. But what could she do? She wasn’t a fighter like Twilight. She had power by the bucketload, but not the skills or the instincts to use it effectively in a fight. What good was power when there was nothing she could do with it?

She ground her teeth, furious at her own impotence. She needed to help, to do something. But what?

“Friend Cadance,” came Basenji’s voice from behind her. “Please, do not worry for your beloved. My honored sister, Twilight Sparkle, shall protect this city.”

“And doesn’t that bother you?” Cadance asked. She turned to glare at him, disappointment clear on her face, though it wasn’t really Basenji she was disappointed in. “You’re fine with letting her go and fight all our fights for us?”

Basenji lowered his eyes. He held one paw on his drum, and the other was balled into a fist, pounding rhythmically at his leg. “You are worried, and ashamed of your lack of skill – this I understand, and I beg that you believe that I feel the same within my own heart. But what can we do?” 

Cadance looked away, with shame filling her heart as she returned to pacing worriedly at the edge of the balcony. Basenji didn’t deserve the ugly look she’d given him. He was worried about Twilight, too, and it was a pointless exercise to argue about who was more worried.

“I’m sorry,” Cadance said. She heard a soft grunt from her dog companion, and the wordless response somehow carried more meaning than a simple acceptance of her apology. She took a deep breath, held it a moment, and released it. “We can’t just stand here doing nothing. We need to think of something.”

Basenji grunted again. “It is a spirit. Perhaps I can craft a song which can send it to the land of the dead… this may prove difficult, however. Even from a distance, I can see that there are dark ways tainting this spirit. What is left of his soul may be too twisted to be reached through the Ways. Perhaps if I had time to study, to consult the wisdom of the Old Dogs for insights into how this may be accomplished...”

“Time is something we don’t have much of,” Cadance said.

Basenji sighed. “As you say…”

There had to be something they could do. She mentally kicked herself, silently wishing she was as smart as Twilight, or Shining Armor, or one of her aunts.

She stopped and took another deep breath. That was not a productive line of thought.

She looked down over the city, searching for anything that might be helpful. Maybe there was trebuchet, or a cannon, or something she could use to help… but there was nothing. Just row after row of houses, and the addled crystal ponies listlessly milling around inside their homes.

An idea came to her suddenly.

What had Aunt Celestia said about the Crystal Empire? Something about the magic of love protecting the city. How did that work? Did the city naturally just pick up on the good vibes of the ponies living here?

“Maybe…” she muttered to herself. “Maybe… the problem isn’t with the city.... maybe the curse is only on the ponies, but not the city itself...”

A smile made its way to her face. She spun around to face Basenji, and he jumped, startled by the suddenness of the movement.

“I’ve got it!” she crowed. “This city wants love? Well I’m full of it!” Cadance thrust a hoof out, pointing dramatically at Basenji. “You and I are going to make love!”

Basenji tried to back away in a panic, but his footing failed him and he fell gracelessly onto his rear. “What!?”

“Calm down, that’s not what I meant.” Cadance strode to the very edge of the balcony, her smile growing with every step. “Play me a song. Something romantic. I need to get into the mood.”

Cadance closed her eyes and focused her magical sense. The power of her love for Twilight was strong, and through it, she could always feel her lover’s presence as a sense of security and contentment. With focus and a bit of Love magic, this link was strengthened, and Cadance could even feel every beat as Twilight’s heart raced with the exertion of her sprint. She focused on that, and on the memories she had of Twilight. Every touch, every kiss, every moment they’d shared over this past year came flooding back to her in vivid detail. The warmth of her love for Twilight was like a fire in her heart, surging and hot as the sun. She thought about her aunts, about her parents, about Twilight’s parents. She thought about Basenji, and Spitfire. Shining Armor and Spike. Their friends from Ponyville. The maids in the castle. The guards.

Everyone she’d ever met, everyone that had touched her heart, even briefly, came to mind. Her love for them all was like a thousand tiny flames, and they added their heat to the massive sun that was her love for Twilight Sparkle. She took all that heat, all that love, and spun it into magic.


She’d never done anything like this. This spell was all duct tape and bubblegum, cobbled together out of bits of a dozen other spells she knew, but it had to work.

She opened her eyes and looked over her shoulder at Basenji. When she spoke, her voice distorted the air around her with the force of the magic she was channeling inside her body. “Hey, come on now,” she said with a laugh at the shocked expression on his face. “It’s going to be a few minutes before this spell is ready. Play me something nice while we wait.”


* * *


Twilight stood at the edge of the city, panting as she caught her breath. Every exhalation released a puff of condensation like a train’s smokestack. Spitfire stood behind her, staring intently at the darkening sky. She didn’t even look winded.

They had decided to stop at the road marker they’d found at the edge of the city. It was a fair distance away from anyone else that might get hurt, and stopping here gave them a few minutes to collect themselves before they made contact.

“Big cloud, there,” Spitfire said simply. She spat on the ground and narrowed her own eyes at the two huge glowing green ones in the center of the mass of blackened smoke. “I don’t like the way it’s looking at me.”

“I suggest caution,” Twilight said as she drew her chakram and began building magic up inside of herself. “Pretty sure this is King Sombra, which means this is the unicorn that managed to hold an entire empire under his hoof with his magic alone. No idea what he’s capable of now that he’s… whatever he is, but let’s not get cocky.”

“Alright then, I guess it’s time for me to oil up,” Spitfire said. She pulled out the flask with her wing and applied a dollop of the viscous goop to her hooves. It glowed a bright golden yellow, like molten steel, and poured out of the flask with the consistency of honey, Even from a few paces away, through a howling snowstorm, Twilight could feel the warmth radiating from it. “Not that I don’t trust you,” Spitfire said as she massaged the chemical into her forehooves and up her arms as she’d been instructed on the train, “but if this stuff hurts, I’m beating out the flames with your face.”

Twilight snickered. “Don’t worry, phoenix magic has some immensely powerful healing properties. I’m sure that any burns you sustain will heal up pretty quickly.”

Twilight wasn’t worried. Luna had helped test the concoction already, so she knew it was safe. The formula worked by reacting to the magic that pegasi naturally possessed, which was often simply called Weather Magic – but the simplistic name belied the complexity of the magic. That magic made pegasi lighter and faster while in the air, in addition to the weather controlling they were capable of by instinct. Spitfire, and the rest of the Wonderbolts for that matter, had excellent control over this magic. It was what they used to create smoke trails behind themselves during their stunt shows.

Spitfire hesitated in her ministrations. “Somehow that doesn’t fill me to the brim with confidence…” she muttered as she quickly finished applying the oil.

The cloud containing what was left of King Sombra’s battered soul and magic roared. The smoke gathered again, solidifying into the gargantuan head of a unicorn that sneered at them malevolently. His mouth opened as he screamed wordlessly at them, baring unnaturally sharp teeth. He was still a bit away from them, but when it came to attack magic, distance on the battlefield was subjective.

His long crimson horn began to glow with violet colored magic that burbled and popped like soap bubbles. A glimmer of wicked delight flashed in Sombra’s eyes, and his magic gathered at the tip of his horn.

“Break left!” Spitfire shouted as she spread her wings and dove to the right.

Twilight was already in motion when Spitfire’s warning came. She leaped to the side, quickly casting a teleportation spell that took her safely out of range of whatever Sombra had just shot at them. Her chakram had come along for the ride, and she levitated it in front of herself defensively as she spun around to assess the damage Sombra’s spell had done.

The bolt of lightning, dark as the night sky, had stuck the place where she and Spitfire had been standing. Huge onyx-colored crystals rose out of the ground, projecting a magical aura as they grew and spread across the impact site. The magical aura coming off those things was sickening, greasy even, and made every hair on Twilight’s body stand at attention.

Sombra was actually cackling, like a villain in a play that had been amused by his own nefarious deeds.

Twilight looked up at him with a sneer. She definitely wasn’t going to give this guy the chance to hit her with that.

She gathered her magic for a fire spell, but rather than projecting it out of her horn, she changed the focus, weaving the spell pattern into the levitation spell on her chakram. The ring of steel began glowing white with the intensity of the heat, and a halo of golden flames radiated from the spinning disc. She commanded it forward, and the chakram took off like an arrow, straight and true, cutting right through the cloud of smoke.

Sombra wasn’t laughing now. He opened his mouth and roared in pain, his eyes focusing on Twilight with a deathly glare as his vaporous body reformed. He cast that black lightning spell again, but this time there was no showiness, no buildup, no attempt to frighten them with his power. The spell was formed and cast in the blink of an eye, with the speed of an accomplished magical fighter.

But Twilight was just as fast as he was. The second she saw him preparing the spell, she’d began her own casting. She teleported again, popping out and back into existence a short distance away.

Twilight still had control of the flaming chakram and directed its flight path back down, scoring a hit across Sombra’s horn as he charged another spell. The spell fizzled out, exploding into a shower of jet-black sparks. Bits of ash and cinder fell to the ground, staining the snow around them the color of coal.

Two lines of golden flame appeared in the sky above Sombra. Spitfire had ignited the oil and was diving headfirst towards the ground, her forehooves held out in front. She was spinning,  the trail of flames corkscrewing behind her like a drill aimed straight at the back of Sombra’s head.

She punched through his head, and the apparently solid formation was reduced to wisps of smoke and soot as Spitfire gracefully spun through the air. The mass of dark magic shrieked in fury and pain, and Sombra’s eyes glared at them with pure, undiluted hatred.

Several more exchanges ended the same way. Sombra would attack, Twilight would quickly teleport away and strike at him, and Spitfire would speed in from his blind spot like a shooting star.

Some bit of Sombra was probably still more than a mindless, hate-filled beast, because he had enough intelligence to break off from the battle. He turned away from his attackers, barreling full speed for the Crystal Empire.

“Don’t let him get to the city!” Twilight shouted.

“Don’t gotta tell me twice!” Spitfire shouted in return.

But chase was unnecessary.

A single note, musical and clear and perfect, like the chime of a flawless crystal bell, rang throughout the city. A sphere of light blue energy blossomed in the distance, starting from the palace at the very center of the city and growing rapidly. As the sphere of magic expanded, that beautiful note rang across the city, and every building, every crystal, every stone, seemed to resonate with it.

It was like the entire city was struggling to wake up – stuck in the languid moments between sleep and full wakefulness.

In seconds, the sphere had grown large enough to encompass the entire city and stretched on beyond the edge of the city proper – but Sombra paid it no mind. He continued on, and the cloud of magic that was his body struck against the sphere with an audible thud. The force of the impact blew him back, and it took a few moments for the dispersed cloud to reassemble itself.

Sombra threw himself against the barrier again and again, beating himself against it. The intense magical aura contained in the cloud was diminished a bit with every failed attack.

Twilight grinned as she sent her still-blazing chakram at Sombra, scoring a hit across his shapeless body.

Sombra shrieked, howling in pain and frustration, and his eyes turned back to Twilight one last time before he flew straight up and fled to the west, in the direction he’d come from.

Twilight didn’t release the spell on her chakram until the dark cloud had fully disappeared from sight. The steel wouldn’t retain the heat of a fire spell after she’d released it, so she holstered it without hesitation.

Spitfire landed next to her in the snow, staring in the direction Sombra had escaped in. Her forelegs were still ablaze, and the hiss of snow melting under her hooves filled the air.

“Should we be chasing that thing?” Spitfire asked.

Twilight frowned. She hadn’t noticed, but the blizzard had only intensified since they’d arrived. The bubble of magic somehow seemed to have calmed the weather immediately around the city, but that benefit didn’t look like it would extend very far. The winds had picked up enough that it would be too dangerous for anypony – even somepony as experienced as Spitfire – to fly out in. Going on hoof was also out of the question, as there was too much chance that she and Spitfire might get separated, or even lost, as they wandered the snow. Considering conditions as they were, it was best to stay as close to the city as possible.

“No,” Twilight said with a shake of her head. “Storm’s too rough now. Let’s get back and check up on Cadance and Basenji. We need to wait for the blizzard to subside a bit before we can even start talking about chasing after that guy.”

Spitfire nodded her assent and put out her flames by shaking her hooves. It was an unnecessary gesture, as the flames died out on their own once they were no longer being fed magic, but it seemed like the sort of thing Spitfire would do, so Twilight didn’t comment on it.

Twilight walked up to the barrier and pressed a hoof against it, expecting a bit of resistance. Her hoof passed right through, and the moment she made contact with it she felt a comforting surge of warmth in her chest. She knew immediately what this bubble was made of.

“That mare of mine sure is full of surprises,” Twilight said, laughing as she crossed the barrier.


* * *



> Chapter 13 - Heart of Steel
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Shining Armor sat on the floor of the train car, in the space between two seats, his back pressed against the wall as he watched the skies grow cloudy and gray through the windows opposite him. The vibration of the train moving along, occasionally lurching as it hit another ice block, felt good against his back – like the massage spell he sometimes used when his back would ache from hunching over textbooks for several days straight.

“You okay, Shine-Shine?”

He looked up to see Pinkie Pie standing in front of him, her eyes soft with concern despite the disarmingly cheerful smile on her face. Behind her, the rest of his friends were looking in his direction from their seats – except for Spike, who was holding a book in his claws.

Shining nodded, a pang of guilt going through him over having worried his friends.

“I’m fine,” he said, chuckling to try and reassure them that he meant it. “Really. Just kind of nervous.”

“I should say so, darling,” Rarity said. “A test from Celestia? It must be quite the task.”

“Yeah,” he muttered sheepishly. “It’s weird. I mean, I’ve been Princess Celestia’s personal student since I was little, but I haven’t been a student-student for a long time. The appellation is sort of a formality at this point. I’ve got doctorates, for sun’s sake. I can’t remember the last time she personally gave me a test.”

“Five years, four months, thirteen days ago,” Spike said. He turned the page of his book with a casual flick of his claw. The statement was followed by a stunned moment of silence, causing Spike to look up from his reading. “Number one assistant, remember?”

There was a murmur of appreciation at the statement, and the girls all nodded knowingly. Shining Armor grinned bashfully. There was a joke amongst the group that Shining Armor would forget to brush his teeth if Spike didn’t remind him every day.

Which was a gross exaggeration, because Shining always made sure to brush… it was flossing that he sometimes forgot.

“What about when you had to go to Ponyville to work on the Summer Sun Celebration and ended up stopping Nightmare Moon?” Fluttershy asked.

“Or when she sent us to scare off that dragon?” Rainbow Dash added.

“Those weren’t tests,” Shining Armor said. “Those were missions – though, at the time, I thought going to Ponyville was just a favor. I used to do a lot of little things like that for the princess before I started dedicating my time towards friendship research.”

“So how’s this different?” Applejack asked.

“I dunno,” Shining Armor said. “That’s what’s got me nervous. If it’s a test, that means she’s looking for something specific, which means that even if everything turns out alright, I might end up failing to live up to whatever she’s testing for.”

“Celestia said that you have to go and find a way to help protect the Empire,” Spike said as he snapped his book shut. “Admittedly, the stated goal is a little vague, but at least it’s simple. You’re worrying too much, same as always. Besides, you’ve got all of us with you.”

Shining Armor smiled. His friends were all sitting there, nodding enthusiastically and grinning at him. Even when he was falling apart, his friends were there for him. It wasn’t all that long ago that all he had was Spike, and every day he appreciated the five girls sitting before him just a little more than he had the day before.

“Thanks, everyone,” he said in response to their reassuring smiles. “If it’s a test, it means it’s something I have to do on my own, but it helps a lot to know you’re all in my corner.”

“And let us not forget that Twilight will also be there,” Rarity said, a fiery determination burning in her eyes. “This is my big chance to impress her! She’ll be so impressed that she’ll just have to let me make her a wedding dress!”

Spike snickered in amusement. “Sorry, Rares, but I don’t think that’ll happen. Twilight’s pretty set on wearing her dress uniform, and of the three of us – her, me, and Shining – she’s probably the most obstinate.”

“No ‘maybes’ about it,” Shining Armor added.

“Pooh on both of you,” Rarity said with an annoyed huff. “Cadance and Miss Velvet have already had their tries at getting Twilight to wear a dress at the ceremony, and if I manage it then I will certainly gain considerable favor with both of them.”

“Can we all just take a minute to talk about what’s really important here?” Rainbow Dash said. “The princess said that Spitfire was there! Spitfire! I’m going to get a chance to go on a mission with the captain of the Wonderbolts!”

“I had no idea that Twilight knew Spitfire,” Rarity said. “I suppose it just never came up.”

"She was with Twilight when they rescued me and those other poor ponies on the night of the Gala," Fluttershy said. "She said they were friends."

The rest of the group shared a knowing look. Ever since the incident with foalnappings, Fluttershy had been very quiet about the details of that night. Knowing her as they did, all the rest of the gang could do was assure her they were there for her.

“I think I saw her at Twilight’s birthday party, come to think of it,” Applejack said, slipping a hoof under her hat to scratch at her head.

“Yup, she was there,” Pinkie Pie said. “Rainbow Dash almost pushed somepony down trying to get to her from across the ballroom!”

“N-no I didn’t!” Rainbow Dash said, her face flushing bright red. “That didn’t happen!”

Pinkie Pie pursed her lips, clucked her tongue, and wagged her hoof like a schoolteacher chastising an unruly student. “It certainly did happen. Trust me, I have a partygraphic memory.”

“W-whatever,” Rainbow Dash said with a snort, turning her head away as she crossed her arms churlishly. “Point is, I get a chance to impress Spitfire with my awesome moves. Once she checks out the new tricks I’ve been working on, she’ll have to let me into the Wonderbolts.”

“As happy as I am for you, Rainbow Dash,” Rarity said, “I’m not very much looking forward to Twilight’s other companion.”

Shining Armor frowned. When Princess Celestia had filled him in on the details of the Empire’s return, she’d mentioned that Twilight had brought along two of her friends who’d been staying in the castle. It was a little surprising that Spitfire had joined her, but what was really surprising was that Twilight had also brought along her friend from Zebrica.

A few months back, Rarity had run afoul of a group of diamond dogs on the outskirts of Ponyville. Everything had worked out in the end, but the experience had left something of a sour taste in Rarity’s mouth in regards to diamond dogs. When he’d later written to Twilight about it, Twilight had sent back a letter saying that she knew for a fact that not all diamond dogs were like that, and that she had a very good friend in Zebrica who was a diamond dog.

“I hope you’ll be fair to him,” Shining Armor said. He tried to be understanding, since it had been pretty frightening ordeal for her, but he also didn’t want her past experience to be held against one of his sister’s friends.

“Of course,” Rarity said, frowning. “I’m a lady, and a lady is nothing if not fair. He wasn’t one of those savages that tried to chain me to a minecart. And if Twilight vouches for him, I’m certain he must be a fellow of great character… all the same, diamond dogs…”

Everyone knew what she meant. Rarity would of course be polite, but it would take a little while before she felt comfortable around him.

Further conversation was stalled by the sound of the train’s whistle blowing thrice, and shortly thereafter the cabin door opened. Shining got up from his place on the floor and walked into the aisle to see who’d come in, while the rest of the gang stood on their seats, peeking over the backrests. The opening door had signaled the arrival of the engineer’s assistant. He was about Shining Armor’s age – just a few years older than the girls – but he had a very young-looking face that didn’t match his large stature. He was covered in soot and damp from sweat – both signs of how hard he worked to stoke the fires that kept the train running.

“Sorry if I’m interrupting,” he said as he shook off the layer of snow that had fallen on him as he’d walked between cars. “Just wanted to tell you that we’ll be at the end of the line in a couple of minutes.”

“That’s good,” Shining said with a nod. “Though, according to what we were told earlier, we should have been there an hour ago.”

The assistant chuckled sheepishly and adjusted his conductor’s hat. “Yeah, sorry about that. There was nothing we could do. The storm’s picked up a lot since yesterday, so we had to drop speed a bit ago. Safety precaution when the winds and snow gets too much, y’hear?”

“The train did seem to be hitting a lot of them there ice blocks,” Applejack said.

The assistant sighed. “Yeah, it’s the darndest thing. We don’t use this line often, but I been on the job for about five years, now, so I’ve been up this way more than a few times. I have never once seen the storms this bad, even in the winter. It’s weird.”

“Wild weather is pretty unpredictable,” Rainbow Dash said. She was captain of the weather patrol back in Ponyville, and if there was one thing she knew – aside from flying – it was weather. “Especially in places where there’s a lot of magic. This Crystal Empire place is supposed to be some kind of super-magical ancient city, right? The magic of the place might be having an effect on the wild magic controlling the weather around here.”

“I dunno about all that,” the assistant said, “I just know that this weather ain’t right.”

A horrible screech rent the air and the entire train car lurched. The sudden halt of momentum threw almost everyone in the car to the floor in a tangle. The girls all shrieked in surprise, but collected themselves quickly.

The assistant was the first back on his hooves. “The emergency brakes!” he shouted. His ears twitching spastically at the metallic shrieking still filling the air as the train’s wheels tried to find purchase on the icy tracks. He turned, lowering his body to the ground to sure up his balance, and reached for the door.

The train shook with an enormous, frightening thud, and the deafening sounds of metal being sheared and crushed. The force of the impact was like an enormous wave that washed over them. But as terrible as it was, they only had a fraction of a second to appreciate it before they were all thrown into the air as the train car began tumbling around them.

Shining Armor grit his teeth. The initial hit had hurt, making him feel like his bones were made of jelly and rattling his brain hard enough to make him feel dizzy, but he didn’t have the luxury of reflecting on it. The train had obviously come off the tracks, and if he didn’t do something, everyone in the car would be bashed against the inside of the car – or worse.

Luckily, his startle-response was closely tied to his magic, so the second he’d felt something was wrong, his body had begun gathering magic. He wrapped everyone in the car, including the assistant conductor, with his magic and pulled them close. His body hurt, he was dizzy, and he was having trouble concentrating, but he had one spell that he knew he could cast without fail, without even thinking about it.

All the magic he had went into a shield that sprung into life around the whole group. They all reached out, clinging to one another out of instinct and fear. Even as they twisted through the air, smashing against the seats and walls of the car, they held on tight. Some of the girls were shivering with fear.

By the time Shining Armor was able to think clearly, the car had already long-ago come to a rest. He looked down at the huddled mass he held in his arms. Some of the girls were looking around, their eyes glazed over, shock clear on their faces. Spike was on the other side of them, his arms also wrapped around the group. Maybe he’d managed the shock better than Shining had, or maybe Spike had the same reflexes he did, but he’d obviously also had the same instinct to try and protect them with his own body.

“Is everyone okay?” Shining Armor asked.

The girls all muttered shakily, confirming that they were fine. A knot in his chest that he didn’t know was there came undone when as heard their voices. Spike and the conductor’s assistant also grunted out replies.

“I’m going to let the shield down now,” Shining Armor said. He released them, and they all began to carefully extract themselves from one another.

The train car had come to rest on its side. The windows had broken out and they were standing on permafrost. There was glass and bent steel everywhere. A section at the back of the car was a mess of tangled wire and jagged metal. The car behind them had crunched against theirs – probably from the weight of the second engine at the rear pushing against it – fusing them together.

“Anyone see my hat?” Applejack asked slightly drunkenly. It was a laughably absurd question, considering what had just happened, but judging from her slurred words, she wasn’t back to a hundred percent yet.

“I have it, Applejack, dear,” Rarity said calmly, levitating out from under a pile of glass and snow with a hard shake to clear it off.

“Much obliged.”

The sound of metal being cut filled the car, and a section of the roof a little away from them was ripped away with a powerful tug of magic and an ear-piercing screech of tearing steel. Twilight stepped into the car, a look of panic on her face.

“Are you guys okay?” she asked hurriedly. She rushed over and immediately started looking them all over.

“We’re fine,” Shining Armor said quickly. “Watch your step, there’s glass everywhere.”

“What the hay happened?” Rainbow Dash asked.

“The train turned into a rollercoaster,” Pinkie Pie said poignantly. “Not a very fun one, either.”

Twilight groaned. “You all look fine enough to travel, so let’s get out of here. We need to get back to the city as fast as we can.”

With a flourish of magic, Twilight conjured a kerchief and passed it to Rainbow Dash. It took Shining a second to realize that the kerchief was to clean the blood off her face. At some point, before he’d managed to get his shield up, Rainbow Dash must have hit her face against something, or maybe she’d been kicked in the tumble. Either way, a trail of blood was slowly dripping from one of her nostrils.

“What’s the hurry?” Spike asked.

“It’s not safe out here in the open,” Twilight said. “I’ll explain more when you’re all safe. For now, just trust me.”

They all nodded and followed her towards the hole she’d cut.

When the conductor’s assistant had said it was cold, he hadn’t been kidding. The very small amount of chill that had made it through the walls and windows was nothing. This was the kind of chill that worked its way down into your soul and carved away at your willpower to do anything except lay in the snow and curl into a ball.

They walked a short distance away from the train before they heard a voice shouting at them.

“Twilight!” the voice shouted from the engine at the front of the train. “I need hoof in here!”

Twilight bounded through the snow and climbed back into the wreckage.

As Shining Armor stood there in the snow, his brother and his friends standing next to him, they stared in silence at what was left of the train. The bent, mangled mass of steel was a sobering sight. No one said a word, but he knew that they were all thinking the same thing – it was a miracle that they’d walked away. If he hadn’t gotten a shield up in time, who knows what might have happened?

A shiver that had nothing to do with the near-arctic winds went up his spine. The look on Twilight’s face when she’d stepped into the car was understandable now.

Spitfire crawled out of the engine car. Shining Armor had only met her briefly when Rainbow Dash had won that flying competition in Cloudsdale, but someone as famous as her was instantly recognizable. Twilight emerged from the engine car a moment later, and a third pony followed, suspended in a field of Twilight’s magic. It was the train conductor. He was covered in wounds – burns and cuts, and one leg that looked like it would have dangled loosely if it weren’t being supported by Twilight’s magic. The most noticeable injury, though, was the splash of crimson that showed through the pristine white bandages wrapped around his barrel.

“Steam Gauge!” the conductor’s assistant shouted.

“He’s okay, for now,” Twilight said, shouting to be heard over the violent winds. “There was a First Aid kit on the wall. I’ve been able to stop his bleeding, but he needs stitches. I can do that when we get back, so let’s move it.”

“Put him on my back,” Spike said. Shining and the assistant were just about the same size as he was, but with Spike being a dragon, the question of which of the three of them was strongest wasn’t even a contest.

“I think it’s probably better if I carry him,” Twilight said. “He has a broken leg and he might have a back injury.”

“Get a move on, then,” Spitfire said. She pulled out a flask that was strapped to her arm and poured something glowing onto her hooves, rubbing it in like lotion. “I’ll hold off Smokey.”

Spitfire wasn’t making much sense, but from the look in Twilight’s eye, she must have understood what Spitfire was saying. Shining Armor and the rest of the gang followed her line of sight.

In the far distance, dark stormclouds were gathering, rushing towards them at an unnatural pace – stormclouds with big, glowing green eyes that bled malevolent purple flames. The clouds gathered and formed a stallion’s head, and Shining Armor’s eyes went wide as he recognized the face. He’d seen it in the illusion that Princess Celestia had shown him during their meeting.

“Is that King Sombra!?” he shouted.

“Yeah, it is,” Twilight said. She nodded to Spitfire. “Good luck.”

Spitfire pulled a pair of reflective goggles down over her eyes, and suddenly she was on fire.

“You too,” she said.

Spitfire flew off into the sky, two flaming trails tracing her path behind her. The giddy, girlish squeal that Rainbow Dash let loose at the sight nearly deafened him.

“Stow the fangirling and run!” Twilight shouted.

Twilight started running, the glow of her horn and the field of magic surrounding the conductor floating behind her helped her stand out against the haze of falling snow as she led the way to safety. They followed behind, desperately trying to keep up with her on the unfamiliar terrain.

The disembodied king shouted in pain behind them, but Shining Armor didn’t look back to see how Spitfire was doing. He kept his eyes straight ahead, fixed on Twilight. As he galloped after her, he couldn’t help but marvel at how much his little sister had grown.


* * *


The train conductor had fared better than Twilight would have guessed. The engine compartment of a train wasn’t built for comfort or beauty. The engineer’s station had had dozens of gauges and levers, wiring and pipes – all manner of hard, sharp protrusions for a tumbling body to bash against.

But the stallion – Steam Gauge, according to his assistant – was a tough old guy. Aside from a broken leg, a nice big gash across his chest, and a few spots where he’d been burned from pressing up against the furnace, he’d come out relatively uninjured – relative to what he could have suffered from a literal trainwreck, that is. He hadn’t lost consciousness during the whole ordeal, but he definitely hadn’t been in any kind of shape for talking. Not that he didn’t try. The entire time Twilight had carried him back to the palace, and even while she was working to patch him up, he’d been mumbling about something.

Eventually he just passed out, most likely from the huge amount of painkillers she’d doped him up with. It wasn’t an elegant solution, but her skills with healing magic weren’t up to the task of easing his pain – luckily, her skills as a chemist were.

“He gonna be okay?”

Twilight spared the room’s other occupant a look out the corner of her eye. The engineer’s assistant was a few years older than her, and big, like you would expect from an earth pony who worked a hard job like shoveling coal into a furnace.

“He’ll be fine,” Twilight said as she finished packing up her medical supplies. “What’s your name?”

“Bituminous Shale,” he said. “Everypony calls me Shale.”

Twilight couldn’t hold back a tired giggle. “The name suits you.” Twilight levitated her medical supplies onto a table in the corner and nodded towards the bed that the conductor was laying on. The room they were in was a floor above the level with the throne room, and seemed to be private suites for guests, or high-ranking staffers. “Keep an eye on him. Do you remember what I said about the medicine?”

Shale nodded. “He can have more of that stuff in the blue bottle in two hours, if he’s up and wants it. Just two small sips every two hours, at most. If he’s really hurting, one sip from the green bottle instead of the blue.”

“Alright, then.” Twilight headed for the door. “Someone will be downstairs if there’s anything wrong. If I’m not around, look for Fluttershy, she’s the shy-looking pegasus with the pink mane.”

There was a pause that stretched on just long enough for Twilight to nearly make it to the door, and then Twilight stopped, halted by a sigh as deep and tired as any she’d ever let go. Something about that sigh resonated with her, and made her turn around.

Twilight looked back to find Shale watching her patient. The look in his eyes as he stared down at the broken body of his friend said a lot about their relationship. “You okay?” she asked. “Something hurting you?”

“Something, yeah,” he answered. He shook his head softly. “I just don’t like it, ma’am.”

Twilight sat on her haunches and waited patiently for him to continue. He clearly needed to get something off his chest, and though she was a little pressed for time, she had time enough to listen for a minute or two.

“He’s a good guy,” Shale muttered simply. “Been my partner for a few years now. He trained me up, showed me how to run the train. We been all over, ya know? He’s a good guy.”

“He’s going to be fine,” Twilight said.

“Yeah, thanks for that, ma’am,” he said, his voice going soft. “What do you think made our train flip like that? Was it that Somber thing that other guy was talking about?”

“Sombra,” Twilight said, correcting him, “and I don’t know… but maybe. I’m going to find out, though. Trust me.”

“Thanks for that.” He sniffed loudly as he struggled to hold in tears. Tough ponies like him didn’t like to let anyone see them cry – Twilight knew because she was the same way. “He doesn’t deserve to be all laid up like this. He’s a good guy.”

Twilight nodded respectfully and left the room.

She hated to see something like that – someone worrying over an injured friend. But for as sad as it was, there was something nice about the fact that it hurt him so much. Cadance would probably have something to say about it... or maybe Shining. Twilight knew a thing or two about comradery – it had been beaten into her at the academy as one of the cornerstones that held up every worthwhile soldier – but they were the experts on the subject.

It was sad to see people getting hurt over something that wasn’t any of their business. The conductor and his assistant weren’t part of this whole ‘save the empire’ mission. They were just a couple of guys who happened to be working the train that Twilight and Shining’s crews were riding to get where they needed to be. Bystanders that got caught up in someone else’s problems.

It was a part of fighting that instructors and other soldiers had been telling her about for years – sometimes people just wander into the crossfire between two cannoneers. Most of the time, when it went down like that, they were just good guys with bad luck.

Back downstairs, Twilight found her brothers and their friends in the throne room. They’d gathered around Cadance, who sat on her throne, looking like death twice warmed over. Cadance had been holding the city together with the power of her love alone, and the stress of it was wearing heavily on her. In the past twenty or so hours, Cadance had pumped out enough magic to lift Canterlot Mountain out of the ground by its roots.

It was the sort of magical stunt that only a crazy mare could have thought up, and only an alicorn would have dared to attempt – luckily for the Crystal Empire, Cadance was both.

Cadance looked up from the group assembled below her and smiled at Twilight as she entered. Her cheeks were usually full and flush, rosy with youthful beauty and vigor, but the stress of the burden she was shouldering had hollowed them out. Her eyes were still bright and smart and aware, but they were ringed by dark shadows and heavy bags. Her beautiful mane – that mane that she’d always taken such good care of – hung limp, somehow dry and greasy at the same time.

Basenji sat next to her throne on the dais, his drum in his lap as he played a song that he’d said would help with her fatigue. According to him, his song was attuned to Cadance, so she was experiencing the most benefit, but Twilight had to admit that just being in the same room with Basenji while he played was doing wonders for her own aches and pains. Pinkie Pie also seemed to really enjoy his performance. She was sitting next to him and swaying back and forth in time with his playing.

“Twilight, how’s the conductor doing?” Fluttershy asked as she hurried over. She’d been the first to notice when Twilight had come in, even before Cadance, so she’d already been walking towards the door before her friends had realized that someone had entered.

“He’s okay,” Twilight said. “Relatively speaking, anyway. Eventually he’s going to need real medical treatment, but for right now he’s not in any danger.”

Shining Armor rushed up to her, worry clear on his face. “Twilight, is that really King Sombra?”

“Seems like it is,” Twilight replied. She stepped around him and walked across the throne room to sit beside Cadance. She took Cadance’s hoof and patted it gently, earning a tired smile from her princess. It was heartbreaking to see her suffer like this, but all Twilight could do was stroke Cadance’s hoof and try to reassure her that she wasn’t alone. “Cadance filled you in, didn’t she?”

They all nodded.

“It’s like she says, then. We’ve been holding back Sombra since yesterday. Cadance has been supplying enough love to keep this city’s built-in defenses up, but that’s not a permanent solution.”

Cadance tried to pick up the explanation, but her voice was strained, so Twilight summoned a canteen from her bag of supplies and gave her a drink.

“Thanks, hon,” Cadance said as she lightly coughed. “The way I see it, our first priority is to see to the wellbeing of the crystal ponies. The fact that I’m able to substitute my magic for their love proves that the problem doesn’t lie with the city, but with them. Sombra’s curse is still upon them, suppressing their thoughts and hearts.”

“And that’s where we come in, right?” Spike asked.

“I’d like it to be,” Cadance said with a smirk that was so weak that it died almost immediately. “What we could really use, though, is more information about how the magic of this city works. As it stands, I really have only the barest inkling of how any of it works.”

“How are you maintaining the barrier, then?” Shining Armor asked. “I know a thing or two about barriers, and the one we walked through was top shelf.”

Cadance shifted uncomfortably on her throne, a flush of redness tinting her already pink cheeks. “It was actually kind of an accident,” she admitted, chagrined. “To be honest, the only thing I knew was that there was some kind of magic that protected this city, and that it ran on love. My plan didn’t go much further than brute-forcing my own love into the city and hoping that something good happened.”

Everyone in Shining’s group, aside from Shining himself, looked surprised at the confession, but Shining Armor just quirked an eyebrow in interest. “That was a little dangerous, considering you didn’t know what kind of magic you were dealing with.”

“That’s what I said,” Twilight grumbled.

“I had to do something,” Cadance said in her own defense. “I couldn’t just stand back and do nothing.”

Twilight frowned, but she knew there was no point in arguing about it. Reckless as it was, it had been the right decision, and Twilight would have made the same move if she’d been in Cadance’s position.

Cadance liked to say that they were attracted to one another because they were opposites – Twilight, the cool-headed tomcolt, and Cadance, the pretty pink princess wild-child – but when it came to the things that mattered, they were actually a lot alike.

“Worked out in the end, I guess,” Shining Armor said with a half-shrug. “You can’t just ask the crystal ponies for more information about the Empire’s magic?”

Cadance shook her head sadly. “When I said their thoughts and hearts were being suppressed, I meant it. They’re seriously not all there. You’ll see what I mean when you talk to them yourselves, but believe me, they’re not going to shine any light on this mystery.”

“There’s a library that you can go check out for clues,” Twilight said, trying, and failing, to keep the reluctance out of her voice. When Spitfire had said she’d found a library, Twilight had had to call up every ounce of discipline she had to not rush right over. A thousand-year-old library, perfectly preserved outside of time, and she was going to live practically next door? She’d entertained fleeting little fantasies about being the first modern Equestrian to set hoof in that library, but sadly, the mission took precedence. “I’ll take you there before I head back out into the snow.”

“Why would you need to go back out?” Fluttershy asked. “King Sombra can’t get in, can he?” Her voice was shaking as badly as her knees.

“Sombra can’t get in, but every time he shows up he starts beating his head against the shield, so I have to stand out there and keep running him off.” Twilight looked up at Cadance and tried to communicate how sorry she was that there wasn’t more she could do, and in return she got an understanding smile from her beloved. “It’s the best I can do to take some of the burden off of Cadance. She’s the one doing all the heavy lifting.”

From the dais, whoever was sitting on the throne had a view straight out the chamber doors and down the hall to the balcony. Twilight, from her place at Cadance’s side, saw Spitfire the second she returned. She didn’t look injured, which was good, though expected, but the scowl she wore as she glided down the hallway to the throne room said she was very displeased about something.

The rest of the group turned to see what she was looking at, but no one called out to greet the Wonderbolt upon seeing the look on her face. Even Rainbow Dash, a noted and enthusiastic fan, had curbed her excitement down to a grin.

“Spitfire, what’s up?” Twilight asked as she stepped down from the dais to meet her friend as she entered the throne room. “You’re kind of late. Did you have trouble or something?”

Spitfire sucked loudly on her teeth. “Nah, Sombra’s no big deal. He spooked fast.”

“What kept you then?”

“I went to take a look at the train some more,” Spitfire explained. “I wanted to find out what made it jump the rail like it did, so I followed the tracks. Didn’t have to go far, though. Just a bit away from where we dragged this lot out of the wreck, something tore up the tracks.”

Twilight frowned. “Tore up how?”

“Tore up like if a giant reached down and scooped out a chunk of the earth, and part of the track with it,” Spitfire said. “What’s left of the track’s been torn out and twisted all up, and there’s a big pit where it used to be, just filling up with snow.”

It took Twilight a second or two to process what she was being told. “A trap?” she asked, her eyes narrowing at the thought.

“Yeah, that’s what I’d guess,” Spitfire said grimly. “Which is weird, right?”

“Why weird?” Shining Armor asked.

“Because a thousand years of living as a disembodied spirit has driven King Sombra bonkers,” Twilight explained. “He doesn’t have the presence of mind to do something like that.”

“And we should have seen him doing it,” Spitfire added. “He’s not exactly subtle.”

“So what does that mean, then?” Spike asked. He was sitting next to Rarity, with one arm draped protectively over her back.

Twilight’s frown deepened. “I don’t know yet...”


* * *


Twilight sat alone in the middle of the main road leading out of the city. The flagstones beneath her rump were warm as they would be on a balmy summer’s day. It was a hard contrast against the frozen tundra just a few paces away from her.

The shield that Cadance had erected around the city had done more than just protect it from Sombra’s intrusion. The power of her love was suffusing every inch of the city that it touched, and the land itself seemed to be waking with renewed vigor. Only the barest hint of Celestia’s sun was making it through the blizzard raging around them, but everything within Cadance’s reach seemed to glow with warmth and light. The snow had all melted in the heat, and the damp earth was rich and already covered in lush wildgrass.

Even the crystal ponies were being affected by her magic. They still seemed… loopy, but the vast majority of them had come out of their homes to wander the streets – albeit in a daze. It was very odd, watching the befuddled ponies drift around the city. They seemed to be regaining their memories in small measures, and a few of them had even gone to stand behind the counters of empty stores, or to mindlessly sweep walkways that weren’t dirty. Little by little they were coming back to the waking world, and though it was a bit saddening to watch a mare tearing pieces off a sponge to feed a crystal statuary of a duck, it was progress.

Spitfire had been right when she said they were like phantoms.

Twilight sighed as she stared out over the unspoiled horizon of clouds and wind and whirling snow. The warm stones beneath her were pleasant enough that she had to fight off a yawn every few minutes. Even the howling winds passed through the shield and became a delightful breeze that billowed the tails of the scarf dangling around her neck.

All in all, putting aside the threat of the ghost of a thousand-year-old magical juggernaut, it was a nice day. It was enough to make her wish she’d gone to the library after all. After Spitfire’s report, though, she’d decided to go out and take a look at the scene herself. It had been exactly as Spitfire had described, and Twilight’s heart had skipped a beat or two at the sight of it. Steam Gauge, the train’s conductor, must have had eyes like a falcon. Hitting the brakes as quickly as he did had probably saved all of their lives.

This was supposed to be a diplomatic mission. Show up, win the hearts and minds of the locals, take the throne, start some victim relief programs – that sort of thing. Now the city that she and Cadance were supposed to govern was under assault from the throne’s previous occupant, the citizens were practically the walking dead, and her brothers and their friends were nearly killed.

She needed a drink. Badly.

Maybe some pancakes... No, definitely waffles. Cider and waffles.

She conjured a cereal bar from her cache of supplies back in the castle and unwrapped it. The little bar of carbs and calories was mostly tasteless, despite the liberal addition of substances claiming to be chocolate and marshmallow in the treat. It was gone in just a few bites all the same.

Spitfire, meanwhile, had gone with Shining’s group to check out the library. She was supposed to join Twilight once she was done, and just as Twilight was wondering what was keeping her, she heard the approaching sound of beating wings. A few moments later and Spitfire was sitting in the road next to her.

“Any sign?” Spitfire asked.

“Nothing yet.” A yawn finally slipped through Twilight’s defenses. “Just a matter of time, though. He always comes from this direction.”

“Think there’s something over there?”

Twilight shrugged. “Maybe. The guy is crazy, though. Who knows why he does anything?”

Spitfire sucked her teeth. “Seems to be a lot of that going around…”

“Eh?” Twilight turned to Spitfire, one eyebrow arched in question. Spitfire always did that teeth-thing when she was annoyed, and the tone in her voice was in line with that. “Something up?”

Spitfire didn’t speak up right away. She wore a look of hesitation, and for a second Twilight thought that Spitfire might try to wave off the comment.

“Your brother,” Spitfire finally said, “Shining Armor. He found a book in the library that said the ponies in the Empire used to put on some kind of annual fair that ‘renewed the spirit of their love’ or whatever. The Crystal Fair, they called it.”

Twilight felt a surge of relief at the news. That sounded like exactly what they needed. If they could rekindle the spirit of love within the crystal ponies, maybe they could shake free of Sombra’s control and provide power to the Empire’s defenses. Strangely, it seemed that Spitfire wasn’t as happy with the proposal as she was. “Let me guess. You think it’s a waste of time?”

“Not a waste of time,” Spitfire answered. “I think it’s a waste of resources.”

“How do you figure? It seems like a promising idea to me.”

“Take a look at what we’ve got here,” Spitfire said. “We’ve got you, me, a drummer, an alicorn, Celestia’s personal student, and a fire-breathing dragon. Plus, we’ve got the other Elements of Harmony. That’s a lot of muscle. You ask me? I say we consolidate all that into an offensive plan. With just the two of us we’re already fustigating Sombra. If we all gang up on him, I’m sure we could end this.”

“And then what?” Twilight asked. “We don’t know for sure if finishing off Sombra will break the curse on the crystal ponies, so we might end up putting on the fair anyway. Not to mention the fact that permanently removing Sombra isn’t a guarantee if we did decide to have a showdown. Something’s up with him, or did you forget? Maybe he’s starting to, I don’t know, wake up or something, but taking out the train tracks doesn’t gel with what we’ve seen so far. Seems to me he’s still got some tricks.” Twilight held out a hoof, gesturing towards the barrier of magic protecting the city. “Cadance is holding their entire Empire on her back, and if this Crystal Fair can lift that burden off her, I say it can’t come fast enough.”

Spitfire sighed. “I still don’t like it, but you’re probably right.. And I really don’t mean to sound like I’m questioning the expertise or commitment of the Super Friends back there. They’re not soldiers, but they’ve fought for our country, same as you and I have, so all due respect for that…” She sighed again, shaking her head sadly. “I’m just uncomfortable because I don’t get it, this whole magical friendship and love deal. I think maybe I’d be more comfortable if it was some kind of Friendship Knife. Something I could hold in my hooves and use myself.”

“This is just how they fight,” Twilight said with a chuckle. She knew where Spitfire was coming from, somewhat. She understood the principles of magic better than most, and she knew personally just how powerful the magic of love could be – how could she not? But all the same, Spitfire’s position was understandable. “They’ve got good hearts. That’s what these crystal ponies need right now.”

“You need more than a good heart to protect a nation, Sparkle – you need steel.”

Twilight grinned. “That’s what you and I are here for, isn’t it?”

Spitfire laughed. “Guess so,” she quietly said.

They sat for a while longer, in the companionable silence of two sentries on watch duty. Eventually, a splotch of shadow appeared in the cloudy sky, spreading like spilled ink across the gray clouds. They stood without a word and readied themselves for another skirmish.


* * *


Cadance stood at the edge of the balcony, watching as Sombra rallied himself for another attempt at breaking the city’s barrier. She forced herself to look away from the sight, knowing that Twilight would take care of that particular problem, and instead chose to focus on the streets below.

From the huge platform, she could see as Shining Armor and his friends hurried to implement their plan to bring joy back to the hearts of the crystal ponies. Tents were already up, and the sound of the girls calling to curious onlookers from their stalls like hustling carnies occasionally reached her ears.

It was working, if only a little so far. She was connected to the Empire itself through her magic, and through it she could sense the hearts of the crystal ponies warming, shaking free of the freezing grip of Sombra’s curse. It was slow – painfully slow – but inside each of their hearts was a tiny flame, like a match, and slowly but surely those tiny flames were growing.

“It’s working, Basenji,” Cadance said. She turned to look at her friend, to find the dog still sitting in the same spot a few paces behind her. His eyes were closed in concentration as he beat at his drum. His tongue was hanging out of his open mouth, and the quiet breaths of his light pants were in time with the upbeat rhythm he was pounding out on his drum. He didn’t reply, but from the swivel of his ears, she knew that he’d heard her.

He looked at least as tired as she was, but he’d stayed at her side the whole time, working his magic, giving strength to her with the music of his people. She was hungry and tired, but she knew that she would have been much worse off were it not for Basenji’s support.

She turned back to watch the fair below. The commotion around the palace was slowly drawing ponies in from the outskirts of the city, and over the past hour the crowd had grown to an impressive size.

But happy as she was about the good cheer of the crystal ponies, she couldn’t help but feel uneasy. The ponies down below hadn’t yet noticed Sombra preparing for another assault in the distance. Twilight and Spitfire had skillfully turned him away several times, but that didn’t mean that Cadance could relax – not while her mare was out there in the cold, fighting to protect their ponies.

There was a sudden, jarring sense of quiet as Basenji’s drumming came to an abrupt end.

“Getting tired, huh?” Cadance said, laughing. She looked over her shoulder, expecting to find Basenji digging in his satchel for a drink, or stuffing his mouth with gems. Over the past day or two, Basenji had been at her side constantly. The sound of his drum had become as familiar as her own breathing, and the abrupt end of it had been enough to startle her momentarily.

Cadance’s heart stopped, and only shock prevented her from crying out the moment she’d laid eyes on her friend. Basenji was lying on the ground, frightfully still. His head had been dashed against the ground so hard that the crystalline floor had shattered into a webwork of cracks, and the blood slowly trickling from his head filled the fissures the way melted snow fed creeks at the foot of a mountain.

Standing next to him was a creature with a body of cracked obsidian, at once insectoid and equine. Its jaw dangled loosely, as if broken, swinging in the playful breeze. It had a single hoof raised, resting atop Basenji’s precious drum. In the blink of an eye the hoof pressed down, tearing the drumhead. A casual flick of the hoof turned the instrument on its side, and another careless stomp crushed the shell to splinters. The remains of Basenji’s drum were kicked away like trash.

“Don’t scream,” the thing commanded her. Its voice was harsh and ugly as sin, and issued forth from its throat without movement from its apparently useless jaw. “Don’t call for help. If you do, I will kill everyone.”

Cadance’s heart started again, beating ten times for every beat it had just missed. Her eyes went wide, and she began breathing heavily, panic gripping her like a vice. Her concentration waned, and the torrent of magic she was controlling flickered, threatening to snap.

A loud horn blew from somewhere on the street below. A graceless musical note played by an amateur musician. The poor attempt at music must have seemed funny to the crowd, and the sound of laughter – much of it childish, clearly issuing from foals – floated up to her.

Cadance marshalled herself and reasserted her control over the magic she was protecting the city with. Every fiber of her being was telling her to run, to run and call out for Twilight to help her, but she couldn’t – not while her ponies were in danger.

The thing in front of her looked like a mare, like the queen of the changelings as her aunt Celestia had described her, but it wasn’t a mare. This was merely the corpse of a mare, pulled over the formless, sexless, lifeless essence of a demon like a costume.

Cadance licked her lips uselessly. All the saliva in her mouth had spontaneously dried up. “You’re Ammit,” she said tremulously. It wasn’t a question, just a statement that she felt she had to make. She would have slapped herself, just to see if she was dreaming, but her most primal instincts made her think better than to make any sudden moves while in the sight of a predator. “What do you want?”

“For now, just to talk. You’re interesting.” Ammit shuffled closer to Basenji and lifted a hoof. He pressed his hoof down on the side of Basenji’s face, toying with his head like a child rolling a ball back and forth. Basenji was insensate, and only managed to groan weakly at the mistreatment he was suffering.

“L-leave him alone!” Cadance demanded.

Ammit froze, turning his head slowly, twisting it in the way an owl might peer curiously at a mouse. His eyes were cloudy and gray as the snowy skies. The hoof lifted from Basenji’s face and Ammit stepped away.

“You’re a curious thing,” Ammit mused airily. He walked to the edge of the platform and looked to the sky, where Sombra’s head darted about while doing battle with Twilight and Spitfire. As he moved, the cracks in the changeling queen’s ruined body became more apparent. Especially around the belly, where the shell had split open, revealing a jiggling mass of lumpy gray flesh – a gut full to bursting with meat. He was limping. One of his hind legs hung as broken and useless as his jaw, connected only by stringy, half-rotted flesh. “You worry for your children, but worry not. I’ve no interest in eating them. They are unseasoned, as the children beneath your mountain were. I have devoured beasts the likes of which you cannot comprehend. The children below have never known Hunger. Thus they are not hunters, thus they are not to my taste... Although, I may need a few for what’s to come, but for the moment, it is unnecessary.”

The bulge hanging from Ammit’s gut slipped a bit from the cavity of his thorax, and as it did it issued a sound that was not dissimilar from that of Basenji’s drum being torn. Meat and viscera spilled onto the floor beneath Ammit with a wet slap, and Cadance took an involuntary step back from the spreading pool of gristle.

Ammit seemed to sigh. “Ah, at last this vessel nears its end. This barrier of yours is impressive for a mortal working. This shell has fared well and devoured much, but even it could not penetrate your defense unharmed.”

“Excuse me if I’m not overjoyed with your praise,” Cadance said. Her mouth was running on its own now, and its default setting was always to snark.

Ammit made a loud, throaty huffing noise that sounded as much like laughing as the sound of dry kindling being snapped. Every convulsion squeezed a bit more juice out of the creature’s wound.

“Every word you speak makes the picture clearer.”

Cadance swallowed back her disgust. “What picture would that be?”

Ammit’s laughter stopped. His eyes were fixed at the spot in the distance where Twilight and Spitfire were battling Sombra. Their attacks painted the sky with streaks of fire like calligraphy – all swooping, graceful curves and beautiful spirals.

Ammit watched the scene in silence for a while, and Cadance didn’t dare to speak first. She kept her eyes open, focusing on the periphery of her vision for signs that Basenji might be stirring, but unwilling to look away from the monster in front of her. Considering how fast Twilight had said Ammit was, Cadance didn’t even want to blink.

“You’re all petty, insignificant things,” Ammit said. His words were harsh, but spoken with the polite, slightly-disinterested tone of someone commenting on the weather. “You’re in the land of the living, but you never live. You shuffle about, rattling your chains and begging for mercy from your keeper. Your kind especially, you ponies, wear your weakness on your bodies and call it pride… but she’s not like you. She wears no chains but the ones she dresses herself in. She has cast aside the Will which governs even gods in this realm.”

Ammit turned his head towards her, and those milky gray eyes flashed with a cruelly amused light, like filthy glass reflecting sunlight.

“I feel a kinship with the anomalous girl – the one whom Fate cannot see. She has become a stone in the river of time, and the changes she has made to its flow are deep and vast. It has taken time, but soon the ripples she has made will begin to reshape this world. She and I will have our fill in this new place – a world of endless hunt, where Hunger is the only law.”

“You’re nothing like Twilight,” Cadance said, spitting out the words in disgust. “She’s someone who will spill her own blood for the sake of others, and you’re a disgusting monster that eats hearts.” Cadance tossed aside her fear as the anger welled up in her. She scowled at Ammit, sneering in disdain at the evil thing. “Your very existence is offensive to me.”

Cadance blinked, and in the microsecond of time where her eyes were closed, Ammit had crossed the distance between them. They were close enough that Cadance could smell the stench of rotting meat, but she didn’t cower, she didn’t even so much as flinch.

“I wanted to meet you,” Ammit said in a voice so low it was almost a whisper, “to see if I could understand why she would stand at your side… I believe I understand a bit, but you must know she will never be entirely free so long as she wears the burden of you around her neck. Killing you would be a kindness to her.”

Cadance leaned in closer, almost close enough to touch their noses together, as she glared into Ammit’s dead, glassy eyes. “Then what’s fucking stopping you?”

Time stretched on, the seconds becoming long as they stared at one another. The shouts and laughter of the crystal ponies in the square below continued on, ignorant of the battle of wills taking place above their heads.

A realization struck Cadance like a bolt of lightning from the sky. She opened her mouth and let out a single bark of derisive laughter. “Hah! You won’t do it!” she crowed smugly. “You’re afraid of what Twilight will do to you if you hurt me!”

“Go to sleep,” Ammit said with a snarl, real anger entering his voice for the first time.

Cadance had just enough time to be confused. Her vision darkened as the ground rushed to meet her face. The last thing she could remember as her consciousness faded was the pain of her skull being cracked like a porcelain egg.


* * *


When the barrier around the city came down, Twilight, Spitfire, and even Sombra, froze in mid-fight. Ever since the barrier had first gone up, it had never faltered, not even once. Why had it gone down now?

Panic gripped Twilight’s heart at the thought that something might have happened to Cadance.

Of the three of them, Sombra came to his senses first. The roar of his laughter shook the air like thunder as he sped off. His smokey body glided towards the city, cackling the whole way, and in his wake, black crystals rose from the ground everywhere his shadow touched.

“Stop him!” Spitfire shouted as she gave chase.

Spitfire was fast – fast enough to catch up to Sombra almost immediately. She dove right through the smoke, burning it away with the pure magical flames around her hooves. She came around and pierced the mass of dark magic again, and the beautiful green grass withered and died wherever the ash of Sombra’s burnt magical form fell. Sombra paid the damage he was taking no heed. The holes that Spitfire had burned through him filled in seconds, and he just kept flying towards the center of the city, laughing like he was possessed.

Twilight called back her chakram and holstered it. Spitfire was zipping in and out at very shallow angles, keeping the pressure on Sombra. It was too dangerous to use her weapon, so all Twilight could do was sprint after them as fast as she could.

At the speed they were moving, Sombra would be at the center of the city in minutes. The way he was moving towards the palace so singlemindedly made Twilight think that he must have a plan. Crazy or not, this was the unicorn that had plumbed the deepest secrets of the Empire’s magic, and unraveled the mysteries of turning the beautiful magic of love into something callous and evil. Whatever he had in mind, she couldn’t allow it.

She was also worried about Cadance. She kept telling herself that it was probably exhaustion. Cadance hadn’t slept, and she had barely eaten over the last few days. Exhaustion was dangerous – Twilight knew that intimately – but a few weeks of bedrest could recover the damage… still, the possibility that something more serious had happened would not leave her.

Twilight grit her teeth. One thing at a time.

“Spitfire, back up!” Twilight shouted.

Spitfire pulled away without question, giving Twilight the opening she needed. Twilight teleported ahead of Sombra and channeled all her magic into an enormous, flat shield that she positioned in the air above her like a wall. As Sombra approached, she slammed the wall down, right into his face.

The disembodied head of Sombra let out a grunt of pain, but dematerialized back into smoke as Twilight’s shield smashed into him. He billowed out around the edges of her shield and reformed to continue on. Twilight drew her chakram and flung it at Sombra. Even without an immolation spell channeling through it, the cold steel of her weapon cut through Sombra’s body with a hiss. Her chakram had odd effects on magic, and magic was all that was left of Sombra when you got right down to it.

Sombra growled and twisted in the air. The enormous head in the midst of the cloud of evil magic turned for a moment and snarled at her. Spitfire dove back in, and Twilight continued to teleport ahead and take what shots she could.

It was pointless, though. Without a more drastic way to stop him, Sombra eventually made it to the palace.

The shrieks and panicked cries of the crystal ponies at the sight of their tormentor filled the air. They all fell to the ground, prostrating themselves before their tyrant, too fearful to even run as they shivered and muttered pleas for mercy. Sombra looked down at them with the glee that a troublesome colt might look down upon ants as he held a magnifying glass.

Sombra’s head was engulfed by the cloud, and a pillar of smoke rose up into the sky. Atop the pillar, a stallion emerged, riding the plume of dark magic like a wave. Spitfire dove at him, but the cloud of smoke expanded and engulfed her. She cried out, and the flames around her hooves lit up the cloud. The glow of Spitfire’s flames flickering within the smoke reminded Twilight of the time a firefly had gotten stuck behind a curtain in her dormitory.

A brilliant, blue light shone forth from the very peak of the Crystal Palace. The light spread across the sky, glowing atop the spire like a lighthouse on the shore of a gloomy coastline. It was a pure and beautiful thing, and the look of hunger in Sombra’s eyes as he rose up to meet that light was enough to send shivers down the spines of everyone watching.

“The Crystal Heart!”

“No, he’s going to take the Heart from us again!”

The crystal ponies began to cry out in fear. All around, ponies were reaching out for one another, clinging together as they wept.

Sombra paid no mind to them.

Something emerged from the castle. The object – Crystal Heart, the ponies had called it – was the source of the light. Even from a distance, Twilight could feel the unimaginable power contained in it. The light from it was warm as a lover’s embrace, and sweet as a mother’s song.

Sombra laughed. He laughed and cackled, and his body returned to smoke and poured into the light until he fully disappeared within it. The clouds parted to reveal a blood red sky. The light of the Crystal Heart was being consumed, twisted into something dark.

Sombra cried out in joy, and his voice rang out from within the Crystal Heart high above, bellowing out a proclamation. “At last! Again I will have a body, and all the lands of this world shall belong to Sombra!”

And then Twilight heard the thump of a mighty drum. Her own heart stopped. The drum sounded again, and then again, and then again. Slow, heavy thumps with the force of a giant pounding the earth. Every time the drum beat, so did her heart, in perfect synchronization.

She’d collapsed without even realizing it. Her legs had crumpled under the weight of the pounding drum. Something was coming.

She forced herself to ignore the beating of the drum and looked up. As Sombra was cackling, reveling in his victory, a streak of darkness leapt from balcony where she’d last seen Cadance and Basenji. The beating of the drum was already having an effect on her. Her every sense was at its peak, and time seemed to be nearly at a standstill. Yet even with her heightened senses, the streak was so fast that it was merely a blur of shadow. All she could make out was a pair of cold predatory eyes, and a huge gaping maw filled with sharp teeth.

“I believe we might meet again in the land of frozen hearts…”

Ammit’s parting words from their last meeting came to her, clear as a bell in her mind.

How could she have been so stupid? How could she have not seen this coming?

She didn’t have time to reflect on her failure. Ammit had leapt up in a single bound, and with a smooth motion, his jaws plucked the Crystal Heart from the sky.

The sound of a thousand hearts breaking at once. That was the sound that the Crystal Heart made as Ammit chewed.

All at once Twilight understood what had happened. This was what Ammit had been aiming for. Basenji had said that hearts were the seat of the soul, and in all of Equestria, where would you find a more powerful soul in a more powerful heart than you would find here, at this very moment?

The body of the changeling queen began to change. The flesh beneath the exoskeleton bulged, swelling so much that the chitin cracked and fell away like a crab discarding an old shell. The mass continued growing even as it plummeted to the ground.

The crystal ponies scurried away. They were confused, but they had wits enough to run away when something was falling on them. The amorphous blob hit the pavement with a sickening plop.

Everyone in the square watched as the bulbous pile of meat sat there, growing with every second until it rivaled the surrounding homes in size. A bright crimson light danced across the mound, and long fleshy tendrils slithered from the mass like serpents in search of mice.

Dozens of limbs snaked out, wrapping around the crystal ponies before they could even scream. The limbs retracted slowly, pulling the ponies along the ground, and only then did they realize what was happening. They pleaded and cried, pawing at the ground with their hooves in a vain attempt to escape. They begged for help, but the other crystal ponies could only watch in terror as their loved ones – husbands and wives and children – were dragged towards the disgusting thing.

The drums continued beating in Twilight’s head, in her chest, in her bones. She felt the beating of the drum – the words of the Heart of the World, Basenji had said – with her very soul. As the tendrils lashed out and grabbed ahold of the crystal ponies, Twilight felt anger, hatred like she’d never felt before.

Twilight drew her chakram. She gathered all the magic she could and poured it into the weapon. When she threw it, the air split with a deafening boom. In half a blink of an eye she’d cut through the tentacles.

The massive blob of Ammit’s shapeless body trembled with a deep guttural noise, like a crocodile roaring into the night. The stumps of its ruined appendages retreated into the main body, leaving trails of dark red blood as they slithered away.

The drums in Twilight’s head had picked up, filling her body with strength and vigor. She stomped her hoof hard enough to crack the crystal-paved street. “These are my ponies, Ammit!” she declared. “And I won’t let you have even one!”

More tendrils emerged and reached for the surrounding ponies, but Twilight again cut them off.

“Spitfire!” Twilight looked up to find Spitfire gaping at her. “Run interference!”

Spitfire nodded and the flames around her hooves flared brightly as she dove into the fray. She danced around Ammit, and the fleshy limbs reached for her seemingly out of reflex. Whenever one got too close to the crowd, she’d sweep in and stomp on it with her flaming hooves to pull its attention away.

With Ammit distracted, Twilight was free to do one of the things she did best: organizing.

She scanned the crowd and found her brothers. Once the trouble had started, the group of friends had all gathered together, which certainly made things easier for Twilight.

“Spike! Breathe some fire on it, but don’t let it touch you! Shining, I want shields, and I want them now! Pinkie Pie, put down that horn and go find Basenji! Fluttershy, go with her! The rest of you get all of these ponies back! Drag them away if you have to!”

They all scrambled to carry out her orders.

As half the girls began herding the civilians away, Shining and Spike stepped forward. Twilight felt a surge of pride as she watched them join the fight.

Spike got down on his belly and moved with the serpentine grace and speed of a cobra. Every time he opened his mouth, a gout of flame issued forth. The things were fast, and mostly he was only managing to singe the tendrils, but every clean hit he did manage to land burned its target away completely.

Shining Armor put up a shield around the ever-growing mass, but after several broken shields he gave up trying to contain it. Instead of a hard shield, he created a shimmering pink barrier around it. The fuzzy aura of his magic wasn’t meant to completely resist, but the speed of the tendrils was greatly reduced. One of Ammit’s tentacles lashed out and tried to strike him, but he just stared it down and cast a second shield around himself. He might not have been able to create a powerful enough shield to hold back something that was now bigger than a house, but at a smaller scale, nothing could get through one of his shields. She could see him grinning from inside his bubble of protection as he began gathering magic for yet another spell. The tendril attacking him was blasted apart by a bolt of lightning that descended from the sky.

Shining Armor might have given up his dream of entering the Guard, but he was still Celestia’s personal student. If there was anyone who knew more about combat magic than Twilight, it was her brother.

Shining’s friends were quickly moving ponies away. The fierceness of the battle had finally jarred the crystal ponies into action, but it was still an uphill battle against the stupor of Sombra’s curse. Twilight’s fear that the death of Sombra wouldn’t lift the curse seemed to be all too real.

She was also worried about Cadance, but Cadance would want her to stay and help fight. All Twilight could do was hope that her love was okay, and trust that Pinkie Pie and Fluttershy would look after her if she wasn’t.


* * *


The first thing Basenji was conscious of was the white-hot knife of pain stabbing directly into his brain. Every beat of his heart drove the knife in another inch.

He forced himself to open his eyes, and he gawked witlessly as he found himself looking up at a blood red sky. That hadn’t been there a second ago. Through the delirium and the swimming vision and the pain, he was dimly aware of the sound of violence taking place somewhere nearby. Blue streaks of lightning flashed in the sky with deafening cracks, and familiar voices were shouting wordless battlecries.

The last thing he remembered was sitting on the balcony while Cadance looked out over the city. He’d been playing for her, using an old song to ease her fatigue and bolster her vitality. The working required much concentration, so he was deeply immersed in the Ways and only aware of small bits of whatever Cadance was talking about. She had said something about the fair going well, and then he’d felt something pressing against the side of his head...

Something had attacked him.

“Ah, f-friend… friend Cadance…” Basenji muttered. He tried to stand, but the world began spinning around him and he was forced back to the ground. The whole side of his face hurt, and his jaw clicked painfully every time he opened his mouth.

He heard the sound of hurried hoof-steps and then a mare spoke to him. “Easy, there, Mister Puppy-Pants. You’ve got a goose egg on your noggin big enough to cook a birthday cake.”

Basenji opened his eyes to find Pinkie Pie – the friendly mare who had sat next to him as he played earlier – rushing over to him.

Despite her cutesy words, the mare’s voice was clearly shaking with worry. She immediately reached out and gently touched a spot on his head that seemed to be the source of the majority of his pain.

“Ah, I’m sorry,” she said with a squeak as he flinched away. She tried again. Her hooves were shaking badly, but her touch was gentle. She began rambling, clearly on the verge of tears. “I got some bandages from the bags that Twilight had all her stuff in. I cleaned you up a little bit and bandaged it as best I could, but I haven’t done this in a while. I used to do it a lot, because I grew up on a rock farm and my sisters can sometimes play kind of rough and sometimes there’s accidents and sometimes we’d get hurt so dad said I had to know how to take care of cuts. But since I moved to Ponyville I don’t have to bandage many cuts, and usually Fluttershy or Shining or Spike takes care of that stuff when we do adventurey things…”

Basenji held out a paw and placed it on Pinkie’s shoulder. She was trembling.

“Is friend Cadance well?” he asked in a calm, even tone that he hoped would be reassuring.

“I don’t know.” She cast a nervous glance back towards the princess. “Fluttershy and I came up here and found you both passed out with bumps on your heads. We bandaged you up, and I helped Fluttershy carry Cadance inside.”

“She is alive, then… That is good enough for now. Thank you, Pinkie Pie.” Basenji sighed with relief. It was a struggle, but he managed to get off the ground with Pinkie’s help, and after a few moments the world had stilled enough that he could stand on his own. “What has happened?”

Pinkie Pie’s ears flattened against her head. When he’d met her earlier, her mane had been as full and bouncy as the cotton candy that he used to buy for his little cousin Djembe, but now it hung limply around her face. “I don’t know,” she muttered, hiding behind the curtain of her hair. “A lot of things happened… We were having a party, but then King Sombra got in. He pulled some kind of thingy from the top of the castle, and then he went into the thingy, and then something else came out and ate the thingy… Twilight started shouting orders, but she told me and Fluttershy to come find you…” She looked up, her eyes brimming with tears. “She called it Ammit, I think.”

Basenji’s eyes went wide. “What?”

He shuffled towards the end of the balcony, making sure to give wide berth to the still-drying pool of gristle and blood nearby. He was still a bit woozy, but he didn’t have time to be injured. He stood at the edge of the balcony and looked down at the fight taking place below.

Twilight and her friends were in a pitched battle against a mountain of flesh covered in writhing appendages. Basenji sniffed and the scent of putrid, rotting flesh filled his nostrils. The stink of death was thick in the air. He listened for the Heart of the World, and through it he could hear the pitiable wailing of the hearts of the crystal ponies he had come here to help. Amongst their voices, he could also hear the words of the Old Dogs, whispering songs to him.

“That is Ammit?” Basenji bared his teeth and a growl rose up in his throat. “Profane thing… you dare to show your face before a son of Anubis? I see what you are doing, and you shall not have a body. I will not allow it.”

He looked around for his drum, but all that remained were the red splinters of its shell and the tatters of the bassonova fruit rind that had been the drumhead. He carefully pulled the torn skin from the bindings, clutched it to his chest, and took a deep breath before stuffing it angrily into his satchel.

“Pinkie Pie,” he said as he turned back to the mare. “I require your assistance.”

“Anything you need,” she said with a nod.

“I will be requiring a drum,” Basenji explained. “Have you any idea where I might obtain one?”

A grin slowly spread across Pinkie’s face, and bit of bounce returned to her mane.

“Oh, I can get you a drum.”


* * *


Twilight grit her teeth as she gathered as much magic as she could. She felt a trickle of blood run down the end of her snout, but she ignored it, choosing instead to focus on the sound of the drums and the spellcraft she was working. Her chakram hovered in front of her, perfectly still as she used it as the focal point for her spell. The arcane characters etched into the surface of the blade glowed with pink light as she pumped her magic into it.

It seemed like for every tendril that they cut or burned, two more rose up in its place. Ammit’s fleshy body was covered in the things now. Dozens of them whipped around, trying to strike Twilight and her friends down. If it weren’t for the barrier Shining Armor had put up slowing the tendrils down, they would have lost the fight by now.

She was towards the back of the fight, standing next to Shining as he maintained his shields and dropped lightning on the beast. His attacks had slowed down as the fighting had become more frantic. There were more targets, but that meant that the movements of their upclose fighters were harder to predict. Rainbow Dash had also joined Spitfire in distracting the monster. She wasn’t wreathed in flames like Spitfire was, but she was just as fast, and every time she bucked one of Ammit’s limbs she slowed it down.

Twilight’s spell was nearing completion, and definitely didn’t want anyone on her side getting hit with what she was about to do. “Everyone fall back!”

Spitfire, Spike, and Rainbow Dash hurried away, and Twilight unleashed her spell the second they were clear. The spell released and the area around Ammit’s body was bathed in soft pink light as she created a localized gravity field that pinned Ammit’s tendril’s down with nearly twenty times their own weight.

“Nice spell, Twily!” Shining said in praise. He was laughing like a colt that had been shown a card trick. He dropped the shields he had up, including the barrier around Ammit, and lowered his horn. “My turn!”

Clouds gathered overhead, blocking out the blood red sky, and as Shining lifted his head, dozens of lightning bolts fell from above, striking the area around Ammit. Spike rushed to their side and joined in the assault. He stood on his hind legs, his chest expanding like a bullfrog’s throat as he sucked in air. He breathed out a pillar of flame the size of a building, and the entire mass of flesh was engulfed by his flames and the bright blue flashes of Shining’s lightning.

Twilight stood next to her brothers, panting along with them. The blackened, charred remains of Ammit’s body twitched and smoked in the aftermath of their combined attack.

“Did that… did that do it?” Spike asked between ragged breaths.

As if to answer, Ammit let out another of those guttural roars. The mass of flesh quivered and began growing again. Still more tendrils emerged from the body and furiously swept the air, blindly reaching for anything stupid enough to get close.

“Okay, looks like a no,” Spike commented breathlessly.

“How are we supposed to beat this thing?” Shining asked through grinding teeth.

Twilight shook her head. This was getting out of control. Ammit was building a new body, and at this rate he’d be done before they figured out a way to stop it. The drumming in her head was insistent, telling her that the answer was in the Ways – but she couldn’t do anything with that knowledge. What she needed was someone who understood the Heart of the World. Someone who could decipher the little whispers and clues it was giving.

What she needed was a drummer.

“Play me a beat, dog-buddy!”

The loud thump of a drum rolled over Twilight, and she realized with a start that, for once, the drum hadn’t been in her head.

Every pair of eyes in the area turned towards the direction the sound had come from. Some of the crystal ponies had been herded into nearby buildings, and many of them were leaning out of windows to get a better look.

Basenji stood in the archway leading to the courtyard beneath the palace. Next to him was the biggest drum Twilight had ever seen. It was nearly twice as tall as Basenji, and considering it looked like the shell was made of emerald, it was probably ridiculously heavy. The drum was so big that it couldn’t be placed upright, so it was on its side and held in place by chocks so it wouldn’t roll away.

Pinkie Pie was standing atop the drum, on her hind legs, her arms cross over her chest. The look of glee on her face was almost manic.

“Hear me, old monster!” Basenji shouted. He lifted a paw and pointed a single claw at Ammit. “You do not belong in this world, and this son of Anubis shall return you to your master’s side!”

Basenji opened his paw and slapped it against the massive drum with all his might. The sound rolled through the city like a wave. He struck it again, then again.

Every beat of the drum made the fleshy blob of Ammit’s half-formed body convulse and spasm.

Basenji increased the tempo. His paws were a blur, slapping against the drum with big, sweeping motions. Ammit’s body began to grow pale. It shriveled up into cold white ashes, and every wave of sound carried some of it away like a hard wind blowing sand across the desert. Little by little the massive blob dried up and blew away, the ashes disintegrating into thin air.

A claw emerged from the cocoon of ash, tipped with razors that gleamed with a horrible light that seemed to promise grisly death with every movement, and another quickly followed. Ammit’s claws tore at the ground as he slowly pulled himself up. The dust fell away, revealing the long, flat head of a crocodile, large enough to swallow a stallion whole and filled with wicked teeth that jutted up past the lips of its closed mouth. A full mane of hair clung wetly to his neck and down his impossibly massive shoulders. His hind legs were long and thick – the legs of a creature that was made for running, for closing in on prey in a single pounce. The ground cracked as his tail – thick as a dragon’s neck and covered in scales – slammed into the ground hard enough to rattle the windows of nearby homes. He stood there, as terrible and dark as death, and roared at Basenji.

Before anyone could say a word, Spitfire had already made her move. She dove at him with all her speed, her hooves ablaze with the phoenix fire.

Ammit’s tail lashed out and knocked her aside without so much as a glance. Spitfire was propelled through the air like a cannon shot and slammed against the slanted roof of a home. She hit the building with a scream of pain and the sharp sound of snapping bones. Her body bounced limply off the roof and continued on.

“Spitfire!” Twilight shouted. Several other voices shouted as well, and a rainbow-colored streak flew into the sky to catch Spitfire as she tumbled through the air.

Basenji had been one of the ones that had shouted, and he abandoned his drum to run after her, heedless of the fact that Ammit was glaring at him.

Basenji’s drum might have stopped, but the drums in Twilight’s head had not. Her blood was pumping, and the surge of adrenaline had her feeling almost lightheaded. She could see every twitch of muscle beneath Ammit’s thick hide as he tensed to pounce at Basenji. Twilight gathered her magic and in a flash of light and a bang of displaced air, she was standing between Ammit and her friend.

The demon was leaping towards her, his claws – each one was curved like a scimitar and as long as a mare’s leg – outstretched and ready to strike Basenji down. Twilight’s chakram flew out of its holster at her command and floated before her, interposed between them like a shield. Twilight focused her will into it, and the weapon began to hum with her power as a barrier surrounded her.

Ammit’s claws made contact with the barrier with a flash of blinding white light. Sparks flew, as if steel had met steel, and two of Ammit’s claws shattered with the force of the impact. Ammit’s slitted, reptilian eyes narrowed. He leapt away and lowered himself to the ground, ready to pounce, and glared at her with cold malevolence.

Twilight was distantly aware of Basenji gasping behind her. The exchange between her and Ammit had happened in the span of a second or two at most.

Twilight lowered her eyes and returned Ammit’s glare with one of her own. “He’s not a pony,” she calmly explained, “but he’s mine, too.”

Ammit’s throat bulged, and he growled with that horrible guttural noise yet again. “Why, girl?” Ammit asked. “Why are you protecting them? You’re free of your chains. You can be anything you want, and yet here you are – a wolf laying with sheep. Why are you pretending? They’re just meat.”

“All I’ve ever wanted was to help people,” Twilight said. Behind Ammit, in the far distance, she could see the crystal ponies, her brothers, their friends. They were all watching her, and even from here she could see the worry in their faces. They wanted to be saved, and she wouldn’t let them down. Not a one. She raised her voice so those distant onlookers could hear her words, and loudly declared, “If I can be anything I want, then I choose to be this nation’s steel!”

Ammit’s jaws opened wide and let loose a roar that made the earth tremble.

Twilight stomped her hoof defiantly and roared back.


* * *


The Wonderbolts were Equestria’s premier flying group. They were soldiers, athletes, entertainers, and role models, all wrapped up in blue and gold spandex. It took years of hard training and unshaking dedication to reach that pinnacle of flying excellence. And, of course, spending that much time in the air practicing trick flying meant that the Bolts had some of the thickest medical folders in Equestria. Everyone falls out of the sky at least a few times, and the Wonderbolts were no different. Getting back into the air after a bad crash was a sign of pride for a flyer, and Spitfire had felt that pride as often as anyone.

But she’d never been hurt like this.

“Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh!”

Spitfire bit down on the inside of her mouth to hold back the screams as Rainbow Dash lowered her onto the dewy grass of someone’s lawn. The coppery tang of blood was filling her mouth as her teeth sunk into her cheek. She didn’t cry out, but a nasally whimper managed to slip loose as the weight of her own body settled onto her broken bones.

It didn’t help that Rainbow Dash wouldn’t shut up.

“Oh my gosh, oh my gosh,” she muttered, her voice tight with confusion and worry. “What do I do? Your… Spitfire, your wings, and your back, you’re… oh my gosh.”

“Stop talking,” Spitfire said hoarsely. “Don’t tell me how bad it is.”

She already had an idea of how bad off she was. When Ammit’s tail had smacked her down, it had felt like getting hit by a train, and she knew that at least half her ribs were broken – every breath she took confirmed that much. Then she’d hit something hard, probably a house, and she’d entered a new dimension of pain. What worried her most, though, was that she should have been in more pain. Pain she could handle, but the cold numbness she felt in her lower half was absolutely terrifying.

“If I can be anything I want, then I choose to be this nation’s steel!”

Twilight’s voice reached her through the fog of her pain, and when that ridiculous unicorn returned the monster’s roar with one of her own, Spitfire almost laughed at the absurdity. “Hot damn… I guess we both threw in with a real crazy-mare, huh, dad?” she quietly muttered.

“Spitfire, what do I do?” Rainbow Dash asked.

“There’s nothing to be done,” Spitfire said grimly. Her goggles must have fallen off in her tumble through the air, because she opened her eyes to the untinted sight of Rainbow Dash’s tear-streaked face. Spitfire had always thought that Rainbow Dash was a good filly, and not just because she was such a big fan. She hated to see the girl crying like that. “Hey, don’t cry, you’ve already helped plenty. That was a good catch, thanks for that.”

Spitfire’s attempt to make Rainbow Dash feel better only seemed to drive the girl further into tears. She sighed and pressed her cheek against the damp grass.

This was pathetic. For all her bluster and boasting, her vendetta against the thing that had killed her dad hadn’t gone nearly as well as she’d hoped. Now here she was, on some random pony’s lawn, crippled, and all she could do was listen to the faraway sounds of Twilight’s battle.

Spitfire began grinding her teeth in frustration.

No. No, she wouldn’t let it end like this. Not before she’d stripped her pound of flesh from Ammit’s leathery hide. That monster might have taken her dad, but she’d be damned if she let it take the sky from her, too – not without a fight.

Her wings were useless, so she forced herself to lift her head. She tugged at the flask tied to her arm, and cursed as it slipped from between her teeth and fell to the grass.

“What are you doing?” Rainbow Dash asked.

Spitfire had always had a bit of a gambler’s streak in her. It was never the sort of thing that had gotten her in trouble – not like her love of drinks or her temper – but when the chips were down, she’d always choose to shoot for the moon and leave it up to fate. Right now, the chips had never been more down, and all she could do was desperately grab at something Twilight had said to her about the phoenix oil stuff.

“Don’t worry, phoenix magic has some immensely powerful healing properties. I’m sure that any burns you sustain will heal up pretty quickly.”

Healing magic derived from one of the most magically powerful creatures in Equestria – that’s what she needed. Twilight had said that ingesting this stuff would have unpredictable – likely deadly – effects… but if there was even a one-in-a-million shot that this wouldn’t kill her, she’d take it.

If she couldn’t fly, her life was as good as over anyway, so why not? What was it going to do, make her more crippled?

“I’m about to do something that a really, really smart unicorn told me was really, really stupid,” Spitfire explained. She managed to undo the cap on the flask with her teeth and drew in her breath to steel herself. “Might want to stand back, Dash.”

Rainbow Dash had a frightened, uncertain look in her eyes, and for a second Spitfire was afraid that she might take the flask away. Weak as Spitfire was was, there wouldn’t be anything she could do to stop her. In the end, Rainbow nodded and took a few steps back.

“Thanks,” Spitfire said. She laughed dryly. “And hey, that was some great hustle you showed out there... You’re going to make an amazing Wonderbolt some day.”

Before Rainbow could change her mind and move to stop her, Spitfire gripped the flask with her teeth and lifted her head to pour the oil down her throat.

It was spicy, and it tasted like cinnamon.


* * *


Nothing the size of Ammit should be as fast as he was.

He was huge, big as an elephant and strong enough to knock over a building in a single swipe. Every time he moved, chunks of crystal were thrown into the air from the force of his immense weight shifting around at incredible speed. Every lash of Ammit’s tail and every swipe of his claws had enough behind it to end Twilight’s life in an instant.

But this was what she’d been training for. This was why she’d practiced teleportation until she collapsed. Ammit’s speed meant nothing if she could instantly be anywhere she wanted.

She hadn’t stopped teleporting since the fight had begun. Every casting of the spell filled the air with a hard crack of displaced air, like the sound of dozens of cannons firing in quick succession. 

Twilight was covered in shallow wounds – superficial cuts where Ammit’s sword-like claws had come within a hair’s breadth of slicing her open. The fetid stink of his breath clung to her body from the dozens of failed attempts to capture her in his jaws.

She had never felt more alive. The drums beating in her head and in her chest were at a fever pitch, holding her up with the power of the rhythm. Her teeth were bared in anger, or maybe it was a smile, it was hard to tell.  She was scared and ecstatic all at once. Fear and excitement whirled around in her heart, and more than anything, she wanted to keep fighting.

And she was giving as good as she got. Her chakram flashed across the battlefield, a white glint that traced its way across Ammit’s thick hide, leaving behind thin lines of crimson. Every injury he sustained sizzled and bubbled like he’d been burned. Twilight hadn’t even bothered adding another spell to her chakram, the thing itself seemed to be anathema to whatever dark magic had formed Ammit’s body.

But she couldn’t keep this up forever. Ammit was a big target, but she still hadn’t scored a good hit on him. He was just too fast. Even with the drums urging her forward, drawing strength out of her she didn’t know she had, eventually the well would run dry. All the battles against Sombra had already began to wear on her, and now her body was being taxed to the very limits of her physiology. Something was going to give, sooner or later.

She needed help, but there was no one else around that could cover her back. The first thing Ammit had done was destroy that big drum of Basenji’s, so her diamond dog ace-in-the-hole had been forced to retreat to the sidelines. There was also her brothers and their friends, but though they were impressive, they wouldn’t be much help against something this vicious.

A ball of flame suddenly descended from the sky like a meteor and struck against Ammit’s side hard enough to send his massive body tumbling. Twilight squinted through the flames and could only just barely make out the outline of a pony wreathed in living fire.

It was Spitfire.

Her eyes were glowing like two angry suns as she watched Ammit roll back onto his feet. “Getting sucker-punched sucks, doesn’t it?” She lowered her head and pawed at the ground like a bull getting ready to charge. “Why don’t we have another dance?”

Twilight blinked. There was only one explanation for Spitfire’s appearance – she must have ingested the phoenix oil. It was a monumentally stupid move, but Twilight would have to save the lecture for later.

Twilight went back on the attack, and as Ammit sped out of the way of her chakram, Spitfire leapt into the air and pounded her hooves against the side of his face. A few of his teeth broke free and tumbled to the ground. He opened his maw to try and bite at her, but she was already in the sky. The phoenix magic surging through her body was making her faster and stronger than Twilight had ever seen her.

Spitfire hovered in the air, just out of reach of Ammit’s tail. Every beat of her wings blew searing flames in Ammit’s face. Normal flames would have meant nothing to a creature like Ammit, but the flames of the phoenix were magic of the purest quality. When she got the chance, she would dart in and slam her body against him before darting away. 

Spitfire in the sky, and Twilight on the ground directing her chakram. To outside observers it must have looked like a dangerous tactic to employ, but Spitfire and Twilight had honed their skills as a team over the last few days. Their training and their tag-team skirmishes against Sombra had tempered them, and they knew one another’s moves as well as they knew their own.

Ammit became frantic, thrashing about at them both, not knowing who to focus on. According to Basenji, in the land of the dead, Ammit had been at the top of the food chain, and only Anubis had been his match. But here, in the mortal world, in a new body, he was being fought to a standstill.

Suddenly, he broke away from the fight. He turned and tried to run, but under the influence of the drums, Twilight had noticed the subtle change in his posture and saw that he was going to try and escape. Spitfire must have seen it too, because she dropped from the sky and landed with all four hooves on his back.

Spitfire’s attack staggered him just enough for Twilight’s chakram to score deep cuts across Ammit’s hind legs. He stumbled, and Twilight did the same to his arms. Magical demon body or not, basic physiology was basic physiology. She’d been studying the way he moved, and she had a pretty good idea of where to cut to take the legs out from under him.

Ammit howled in anger, and maybe in pain. The wounds on his body smoked and sizzled, and Spitfire’s hooves were digging into the flesh of his back. Cinders were falling from her body as she turned up the heat. Ammit struggled to get off the ground in an attempt to run, but Spitfire reared up and stomped him back down.

“Twilight, weigh me down!” Spitfire shouted.

Twilight immediately caught the gist of what she meant and cast her gravity spell. Considering the magically-enhanced capabilities that Spitfire had demonstrated, Twilight didn’t feel the need to be gentle. Spitfire grunted at the sudden increase in her weight. Her legs nearly buckled, but with the strength of the phoenix magic in her body she managed to stay on her hooves.

Twilight teleported in front of Ammit and stared him down. He stared back, and a pair of translucent secondary eyelids blinked at her. His eyes were the cloudy yellow of fresh pus, and his pupils were thin vertical stripes of black that opened and closed like the shutter of a camera as he focused on her.

The ground rumbled as Ammit laughed. It was a sound like an old, poorly tuned airship engine, and came from deep inside his body. “You’re a Hungry one, aren’t you? I could smell it on you the moment we met.”

“Shut your trap!” Spitfire bellowed. The flames around her body flared, rising high into the sky. The skin on Ammit’s back began to blacken and peel away under the intense flames.

The phoenix flames also licked at Twilight, but without the intent to burn her, it felt like a warm summer’s breeze against her coat.

Ammit ignored Spitfire’s words and the flames eating away at his back. “You should let me go,” he said. “There is no sport in killing me now. My body is incomplete. Why not allow me to leave in peace, so that I may complete my birth? Let us have a real challenge.”

Something inside Twilight perked its ears at the offer. The savage little part of her that had enjoyed the fight wagged its tail like a dog, and Twilight felt sick at the thought that she was even a little bit tempted by the offer.

“I don’t think so,” Twilight said.

“That’s a mistake,” Ammit said ominously. “You cannot be seen, but the ripples you make can. The events you’ve set into motion will become a great wave that will wash away this world. Soon there will be more meat than even you can swallow. When that time arrives, you’ll wish that I’d have been here to take my share.”

“I don’t work with monsters.”

“Then what is this thing standing on my back?”

Twilight narrowed her eyes. “She’s my friend.”

A push of her will and a bit of her magic, and Ammit’s head was removed from his body.

Twilight released the gravity spell and Spitfire leapt off the corpse to stand at her side. They watched as Ammit’s body began to be consumed by Spitfire’s flames. The evil magic animating the flesh had left it, departed to the land of the dead along with Ammit’s spirit.

In a matter of seconds, the flesh had all been burned away. Soon all that was left were bones, and even the bones began to splinter and crack. In under a minute, the phoenix flames had consumed it all, until all that was left was a pile of white ash.

As the flames died away, so too had the distant drums in Twilight’s head. She’d pushed her body to the very limits, and without the power of the drums bolstering her, it took all of her willpower to stay on her hooves. All she wanted to do was curl into a ball and fall asleep right here in the street, but she held fast. She wouldn’t let anything ruin the quiet dignity of this moment.

Spitfire gathered phlegm in her throat with a loud, rude noise, and – true to her name – spat fire on the ashes.

“That’s for my dad.” She spat again. “And that one was because I didn’t like your ugly face.”


* * *


“Be careful, one step at a time,” Fluttershy said, her voice laced with worry. “Oh dear, you shouldn’t be out of bed.”

Cadance hobbled down the stairs as quickly as she could. She was feeling dizzy, probably from a concussion, but there was no way she was staying in bed. As soon as she’d awakened, she’d had Fluttershy help her back down to the balcony where she could see what was happening. She’d caught some of the fight, and the sight of Twilight battling that monster had shaved at least ten years off her life. More than anything she had wanted to be down there at Twilight’s side, but she knew she would just get in the way.

Frightened as she was for the safety of her love, she knew that Twilight would win. The connection she shared with Twilight was strong, and through it she could feel the strength of Twilight’s convictions, and how powerfully her heart was beating. Twilight would win because she was the kind of mare that would not accept losing if it meant someone else might be hurt. Her heart was the most beautiful contradiction Cadance had ever seen – sharp as a blade, but gentle and loving enough to care for an entire nation.

She’d stayed away only as long as it had taken Twilight to separate Ammit’s head from his shoulders.

Cadance stepped out of the stairwell and into the courtyard. From above, it was easy to see that only a portion of the city had been directly affected by the battle against Ammit. The area surrounding the western face of the square was only a portion of the Crystal Empire’s capital, and the rest had been untouched.

But on the ground, that hardly seemed the case. From here all she could see was the shattered ruins of one of the most beautiful places she’d ever been. What had once been smooth crystal was now cracked, and broken into shards and chunks. The ground was smeared with blood from the fight, and much of it had pooled or become grisly runoff that muddied the surrounding lawns.

And worst of all… it was getting colder.

She saw Twilight in the distance, standing next to Spitfire and Basenji. They were speaking softly to one another as they watched the cooling embers of Ammit’s improvised funeral pyre. A crowd had gathered in the street, but no one other than Basenji had dared to approach – not even Twilight’s brothers.

Cadance’s heart twisted up in her chest at the sight of her love, bleeding and bruised, but alive. She rushed forward, not caring around the pounding in her head or the sense of vertigo she was feeling.

In her haste, she nearly slipped on a loose piece of pavement. She felt Fluttershy’s arms circle her, and with a grunt the small, shy girl was able to keep Cadance on her hooves.

“Let me help,” Fluttershy said.

Cadance nodded and let Fluttershy bear a little of her weight as she quickened her steps.

She called out. “Twilight.” Her voice cracked, and her mare’s name came out as a croak. She shouted again. “Twilight!”

Twilight spun around. “Cadance?” she asked, as though she couldn’t believe it. The look of relief that came over Twilight’s face twisted Cadance’s heart again, threatening to tear it out of her chest. “Cadance!”

Twilight hobbled towards her. She was smiling, but the corners of her eyes creased with every step she took. Spitfire and Basenji stood at either side of her, offering their support, and together they closed the distance between them.

What a sight they must have been –  two lovers, drunkenly shuffling towards one another with tears in their eyes, barely able to move under their own power. Their escorts released them at the last second, and Cadance lurched forward to fall against Twilight just as Twilight lurched forward to fall against her.

Cadance wrapped her arms around Twilight and sobbed into her mane. “We failed, Twilight,” she whispered. She felt Twilight’s body tense up. “It’s all gone wrong.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I was attacked by Ammit, he knocked me out so I would let the barrier down,” Cadance said. “Fluttershy told me about what happened while I was out. She said that Ammit ate something called the Crystal Heart.”

“So?” Twilight asked. She pulled from the hug and cocked her head in confusion. “Cadance, I don’t understand. Sombra took the Crystal Heart, and Ammit ate him, then Spitfire and I killed Ammit. I admit it’s bad that we lost such a magical treasure, but—”

“Twilight,” Cadance said, a note of desperation in her voice. “That Crystal Heart, whatever it was, it was tied to the magic of the Empire. Now that it’s gone… I can’t feel the Empire’s magic anymore.”

Twilight reeled. “But the magic is in the land, right?”

“The Heart must have been what connected the land to the ponies here,” Cadance said. “I’ve tried to power up the city with my own love again, but there’s no reaction. I can’t reach out to the Empire’s magic… Twilight… haven’t you noticed how cold it’s getting?”

Twilight looked around as though she was seeing the city for the first time. Her eyes were wide as she scanned the area.

It wasn’t just the weather or the damage from battle that seemed wrong. When they’d first arrived, the crystal that the city was made of had had the pristine luster of high-quality glass, but was now clouded and dull.

“It’s going to get colder, Twilight,” Cadance said. She could feel herself trembling, and the tears in her eyes blinded her no matter how hard or how much she blinked them away. “Pretty soon, nothing will be able to live here, and these ponies will lose their home… we’ve lost, Twilight.”

Twilight reached up with bloody hooves and carefully pulled Cadance’s head down. Cadance closed her eyes and felt Twilight’s lips on them as she kissed away her tears.

“We won, Cadance,” Twilight said with completely and utter certainty in her voice. “Everyone is alive. If they’re all alive, then they still have hope.”

Cadance shook her head. “No, no it’s… it’s going to get colder,” she insisted. “How are we going to get them out of here? The blizzard is still going, and the train tracks are all messed up.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Twilight said. “You and I, and all our friends, and these ponies of ours.”

Twilight kissed her, and that was all it took to calm Cadance’s heart. The air was already chilly, but Cadance didn’t even feel a bit of it as warmth seemed to pour into her body from Twilight’s lips. The shame and despair she felt were gone, replaced with the assurance of someone who loved her unconditionally and without restraint.

Her body felt lighter than air, and the pain in her head had dulled to a mild throb, and then disappeared completely. Twilight pulled away from her, releasing her from their embrace. Twilight had stepped away, but Cadance could still feel the warmth of her body as though they were snuggled up together beneath their thick winter quilts.

She opened her eyes to find a single point of light hovering before her face. It was brighter than the sun, and she could feel within it the love she held for Twilight, and the love Twilight held for her. Everything that their love was had compressed into that light.

The light slowly grew, and hers and Twilight’s love was joined by that of others. Their friends, the citizens of the Empire, the citizens of Equestria and beyond. All that love, all the goodness of kind hearts that numbered in the hundreds, thousands, millions. It all came together, layer by layer, with heat and pressure, until it had become a huge diamond – no, not a diamond, a crystal.

A heart of crystal.

Cadance recognized it. How could she not? She had the exact same gem emblazoned on each of her hips – placed there by destiny, as if to say that this was the moment she had been born for.

She looked down and realized that she was hovering in the air, and not in the way that pegasi normally did. Her wings were opened wide at her sides, but perfectly still.

The newly formed Crystal Heart zipped away to float in the center of the courtyard under the palace. A pedestal rose out of the ground, and the Crystal Heart alighted upon it. The love gathered within the heart spread throughout the city as a flash of light, touching everything and everyone.

The coats of the crystal ponies were no longer dull, but now sparkled and shone with a beautiful light beneath the bright, clear blue sky. The damaged city began reforming itself, the crystal growing like a scab covering a wound, until the city was back to its original, pristine condition. The blood that had been spilled during the fight had seemed to dry up and break away in flakes to be carried off on the breeze.

Even their friends were now crystalline. The strange magic of this land had suffused them with the same properties as the ponies who lived here. Even Spike and Basenji, who weren’t ponies, were shining like precious jewels.

Slowly she descended. She touched back to the ground and landed gracelessly on her rump, letting out a petite little “Ooof,” as she fell.

Twilight was gawking at her, eyes wide and mouth even wider. “Cadance… you’re… you’re… an alicorn…”

Cadance sniggered. “Uh, yeah, dumdum,” she replied. “We’ve been sleeping in the same bed for a year now and you only just noticed?”

Cadance’s heart felt light, and the impact of what had just happened was only slowly dawning on her. She opened her mouth to continue teasing her love, but something felt wrong.

Her scalp was itchy – tingly even. Like it was covered in medicated dandruff shampoo. But it also felt… slimy? Like pudding.

“Twilight…” she asked cautiously. “Why does my head feel like it’s covered in anti-dandruff pudding?”

She reached up and tried to touch her mane, but she didn’t feel anything. Her eyes went wide at that.

Her head snapped up in a frantic attempt to see the top of her own head. She shot to her hooves, still looking up, and spinning in circles like a dog chasing its tail. “Twilight?” she asked, panic creeping into her voice. “Twilight? Twilight! Where’s my hair, Twilight!?”

Something hovered at the edge of her vision and Cadance looked over her shoulder.

Her tail floated behind her, an ethereal and formless mass of pink and gold and violet, dotted with glittering motes of light and chubby little hearts that swam around like fish in an aquarium. It was the same type of hair that her aunts had – a sign that an alicorn had fully matured and become one with a fundamental aspect of the natural, magical world. It meant that she’d fully donned her mantle of power.

“Oh, honey-baked buttermilk piss! I’m an alicorn!”


* * *

> Epilogue - The Best Laid Plans of Princesses and Cakes
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Twilight fastened the last button on her dress blues and frowned at the tightness across her chest. It was the same formal uniform she’d been issued at graduation just a year ago, but the amount of muscle she’d put on since that time made the formal uniform jacket feel woefully uncomfortable. She’d allowed Rarity to tailor the uniform, but something must have gone wrong, or maybe she’d used the wrong measurements.

She turned to look at herself in the full-length mirror and tilted her head as she studied the gilded buttons on her dark blue jacket. They didn’t seem to be strained. She’d seen officers in ill-fitting uniforms before, and crooked buttons were a sure sign of too much body in too little coat. She sat on the ground and tugged at the red cuffs of her sleeves with her magic, checking to see if they were the proper length, and adjusting the starched red collar. Damn collar felt like a python coiled around her throat.

“Do I look bloated to you guys?” Twilight asked. “My uniform looks fine, but it feels really tight.”

“It’s probably nerves,” Spitfire said. “I got all tight-chested the day I made Captain.”

Twilight turned and glared at Spitfire, who was sitting on a stool and leaning back against the wall with her arms folded behind her head. She had her back hooves kicked up onto a second stool, and poor Basenji – in his smart black jacket and red necktie – was sitting on the floor next to her, obviously too polite to ask her to move.

It was hard to think that only a couple of weeks ago, Spitfire had broken her back. After everything had calmed down, Twilight and a team of medics had given Spitfire a once-over from stem to stern. The tests had turned up nothing anomalous aside from her new magical abilities, but Twilight and the physicians had all agreed that she needed to continue regular check ups, just in case something popped up later.

Looking at her, the only outward change in her appearance had been in her eyes. Her irises now glowed with a fiery light, and little flickering cinders danced in her sclera. It was so noticeable that Spitfire had taken to wearing her sunglasses at all times, even while indoors, so as not to spook anyone who met eyes with her in passing.

“What would I have to be nervous about?” Twilight asked tersely. She let her glare linger just long enough to make her point, and turned back to continue fidgeting with her uniform. “I’m marrying the girl of my dreams… and don’t slouch, you’re going to wrinkle your uniform.”

Spitfire snorted dismissively but sat up, smoothing the wrinkles out of her clothes. The medals dangling from her chest – several of them new – jingled metallically with the motion.

“It is natural to be nervous on the day of your nuptials,” Basenji said. “This day marks a great milestone in the lives of yourself and friend Cadance. It is the day where your paths cease to run parallel to one another, and merge into a single road that you shall both traverse.”

“Aw, that’s sweet, Bas,” Spitfire said with an uncharacteristically girlish exhalation. “I’m going to steal it for my part of the wedding toast.”

Basenji opened his mouth to say something, but seemed to reconsider whatever he was about to say. Instead, he just reached into the breast pocket of his jacket and pulled out a small notepad and a pencil. He flipped a few pages and hastily scribbled a few lines out of the speech Twilight had seen him writing over the last few days.

“As you say,” he muttered as he looked over his speech and made a few more changes, nibbling the pencil as he silently read to himself.

Twilight sighed as she gave up on fussing over her appearance. She looked good, real good. She tilted her head to one side, taking an appraising look at herself from another angle, then tilted the other way. She looked perfect. Absolutely, completely, picture-perfect and fabulously flawless.

She growled and undid some of her medals – like Spitfire, she had several new ones – and repinned them.

“Maybe I am a little nervous,” Twilight said, conceding the point. “I’ve been trying to downplay it, though. Cadance has been going nuts over this wedding. She wants everything to be perfect for our ponies. She thinks that this is just the celebration they need after the mess that the Crystal Fair ended up as.”

Spitfire chuckled. “I was thinking that this ceremony was just a formality, but I think I like that better. These crystal ponies seem the type to look for any excuse to party.”

Twilight stopped messing with her medals and lifted the mirror with her magic, turning it against the wall so she wouldn’t be tempted to look at it again. There was a table in the corner of her dressing room where the maids had left things they thought she might need – luckily that included a bottle of champagne chilling in a bucket of ice. She filled a glass nearly to the top, tilted her head back, and emptied it in a single throaty gulp.

“What do you mean a formality?” Twilight asked as she poured another glass.

“Well, the crystal ponies already consider you one of their rulers,” Spitfire said. “You and Cadance publically professed your love for one another, and that love made some kind of magical love-miracle happen. Far as they’re concerned you’re already her missus.”

Twilight sipped her champagne. Spitfire was right about the ponies of the Empire readily accepting her. A good portion of their citizens had stuck around to watch the fight from a distance, and Twilight had pretty definitively won their hearts.

“I do kind of like the sobriquet they’ve given me,” Twilight said with a grin. “It’s…”

“Rad?” Spitfire suggested.

Twilight chuckled. “Yeah, it’s rad.”

“The Empress of Steel is a rather lofty title,” Basenji commented as he closed his notepad and slipped it back into his coat. “Speaking as one who writes songs, it is a very… evocative name.”

“I think so, too,” Twilight said with a nod. She pulled two more glasses off the table and poured drinks for them, which they accepted with thanks.

They sat for a while in silence, sharing a drink as the sounds of festive ponies drifted in through the window. The crystal ponies had thrown their all into the celebration. She may not have had Cadance’s mystical connection to the city, but as Twilight listened to the sounds of merriment and unrestrained laughter, she could almost feel their happiness in her own heart.

It was a stark contrast to the screams of terror that had filled the air only two weeks prior. Sombra’s curse, the loss of the original Crystal Heart, Ammit’s attempt to turn the city into his own personal spawning grounds – the light at the end of the tunnel of Sombra’s mistreatment had been the light of a fire, waiting to burn them all alive. It spoke a lot to the fortitude of the crystal ponies that they could still laugh like this, and it only reaffirmed Twilight’s desire to look after them.

Twilight turned from the window and glanced at her friends. They were both wearing complicated looks, and she could tell that they were thinking along similar lines. This had actually been the first time they’d all had time to themselves, just the three of them, since that whole incident had gone down. Between the planning for the wedding and looking into the needs of the ponies of the Empire, Twilight had been immensely busy.

Twilight levitated the bottle out of its ice bucket and refilled their glasses.

“We haven’t really talked about it,” Twilight said cautiously, “but I’ve been wanting to get your opinions on what Ammit said.”

“It can wait, my sister,” Basenji said. He traced the lip of his glass with one of his digit pads, and the look in his eyes was at odds with his words. “This is your wedding day. We need not darken it with such talk.”

“Are you not worried?” Twilight asked insistently. “Ammit was talking like he could see the future.”

Basenji sighed as he set his glass down on a nearby table. “If you will recall, I have said before that the flow of time in the realm of the living is observed differently by those in the land of the dead. My people see this as oftentimes beneficial, as it is through this unique view of events in our world that the Old Dogs are able to provide due warning of future events.”

“But Ammit wasn’t in the other world,” Spitfire pointed out.

“As you say,” Basenji said, “however, Ammit was an old beast, and a great power in the land of the dead. It is within the realm of possibility that Ammit had methods by which he could access this unique view, even from our plane.”

“So then should we be worried about all that ominous shit he said, or not?” Spitfire asked.

“Perhaps, but perhaps not,” Basenji said. “It may be that Ammit was lying in an attempt to bargain for his newly-gained life.”

“You don’t really believe that, do you?” Twilight asked, quirking a single eyebrow.

Basenji reached for his glass and emptied half of it. “It would be rather too convenient, given our overall fortune regarding such matters…” He shook his head. “In either case, I would once again like to insist that it is a worry for another day. After all, it is said that a warrior can only protect that which his arms can reach, and a drummer can only sing as far as his voice will carry.”

“I suppose I can see the wisdom in that,” Twilight said reluctantly. As much as she would have rather continued the discussion, Basenji was right. They didn’t need to work it all out immediately. Just the fact that the question had finally been brought up with her friends was enough to lift a bit of the weight off her chest. “What’s another mystery thrown on the pile, right?”

There was a loud boom from outside, and a second later the entire city seemed to erupt in cheers and stomping hooves. “Huh, that’s weird,” Twilight said as she glanced out at the clear blue sky through the window. “Someone’s setting off fireworks in the middle of the day? Those aren’t supposed to go off until after dusk.”

Spitfire didn’t even seem to notice the sound.

“That mean you’re going to stick around?” Spitfire asked Basenji.

“Ah, indeed,” Basenji said, scratching at his temple. “I believe the Old Dogs would wish that I see these matters through until the end… Also, there are things in this land which interest me greatly.” He cast his eyes downward, staring into his drink as he swished it around. He quickly added, “In particular, the ancient library in this city holds many treasures! I will learn much from it.”

Twilight quirked the other eyebrow. “Well… I’m glad to hear it. Feel free to treat the Empire as your own home for as long as you like.” She looked to Spitfire. “Both of you. You’ll always have a room in this palace.”

“Thanks, Twi,” Spitfire said, lifting her glass in salute.

Spitfire was wearing an oddly sad smile as she sipped her drink, but before Twilight could question it, the door burst open and Cadance ran into the room.

Cadance had a wild, untethered look in her eyes. She pointed a hoof at Basenji and Spitfire. “You and you! Out! Now! Guard the door and don’t let anyone inside!” Basenji and Spitfire gawked at her, stunned into silence, and when neither of them immediately jumped to her commands she lit her horn and forcibly shoved them out the door. “No one comes in!”

Twilight blinked. She considered herself a mare of action, the kind that could assess a situation and adapt to any surprise that came her way at the drop of a pin. The sight of Cadance, in a wedding dress, barging into her dressing room and throwing their friends out into the hallway, was enough to throw that self-assessment out the window.

Cadance reeled in her five-meter-long train, gathering up the long piece of delicate silk cloth like she was scooping leaves. Once it was clear of the doorway she threw the bundle of cloth in the corner, slammed the door shut, and locked it.

“Cadance, what the hay is going on?” Twilight asked, finally snapping out of her stupor. She lamely added, “You’re not supposed to be here! It’s bad luck!”

Cadance grabbed Twilight’s face between her hooves, painfully smooshing up her cheeks. “Honey, I love you, but shut up and listen. I was going to try and surprise you but it’s all gone teats up, and I want you to hear it from me first.”

“Cadance…” Twilight whispered. She tried to pull away, to free herself from Cadance’s painful kung-fu iron grip, but couldn’t even budge her soon-to-be-wife. “Cadance… you’re hurting me.”

Cadance released her. “Okay, look, you know I’ve been studying the magic of the Empire, right?”

Twilight gently massaged the feeling back into her cheeks. “Yeah, and…?”

“Well I’m only just scratching the surface, but apparently the magic has a ton of really interesting effects on Equestria – magical effects.”

Twilight frowned. “That’s kind of self-evident, but okay.”

“Specifically, there’s a few really big, powerful magics at play that…” Cadance let out an exasperated groan. “There’s this really ancient magic – stuff that hasn’t been seen in over a thousand years – that can help two ponies express their love for one another, but only if they really, really love each other, and connect at a deeply spiritual level.”

“What?” Twilight asked, still a bit confused by what was going on. “Like bedroom stuff?”

“Yes!” Cadance shook her head. “I mean no! No, but yes!” She threw her head back, baring her teeth at the ceiling and growling in frustration. “Argh, this is all flippin’ screwed! I wanted to take more time to explain this before the big reveal!”

“Cadance, just spit it out already!”

“Twilight! I’m—”

The door burst open as someone bucked it hard enough to break the hinges. Twilight’s mom stood in the doorway, a look of rapturous, unsullied joy on her face.

“You’re pregnant!?”


* * *


Cadance had wanted the entire city to be able to take part in the festivities, so while the actual ceremony would take place on the balcony overlooking the city, the reception would be held in the street. The square in the center of town had been turned into a carnival, and the courtyard beneath the castle had been set up as the spot for the reception where the VIPs would dance and dine.

Princess Celestia stood in that courtyard, her face covered in confetti and her mouth agape as she gawked at the banner hanging overhead. There was a shattered plate and a single piece of cake on the ground at her hooves.

The banner, which had previously only displayed adorably cartoonish doodles of Twilight and Cadance kissing while surrounded by hearts and roses, had changed a few seconds after she’d decided to sneak a little piece of cake. Now the caricatures of Twilight and Cadance were standing apart, their arms in the air as they appeared to be cheering. The Cadance doodle even had an adorable little potbelly.

Between the cheering couple the sign now read: “We’re having a baby!”

How was she to know that Cadance would try the same trick twice?

Ponies all around her were cheering, and she was distantly aware of her little sister laughing uproariously, but the voices of three little fillies are what stuck out to her.

“Oooooooooo~” they sang. “You’re in trouble~”


* * *