> Night's Favoured Child
>  by Municipal Engines
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Prologue
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Prologue:
Midnight Hunt

The midnight sky was bright, unnaturally so. The stars lit the world like lamps and the moon was as brilliant as a searchlight. A fitting description, as the master of the night was indeed on the hunt. Soldiers flocked the streets of the royal city and all the inhabitants were ordered to clear the streets and remain inside their homes. Any unfortunate soul to be found on the streets was deemed a possible rebel and was to be detained. Detainment for suspected rebels usually included an ‘interrogation’ by the infamous Blackcloaks.

But despite the very real danger, two figures made their way through the mountainside city of Canterlot. Hugging the shadows and moving from one pitch black alleyway to another, the figures did their best to avoid passing patrols of armoured troops. After one such group walked beyond a certain gloomy crevice between buildings, the pair darted across the street to the next hiding place. A brief moment under the shine of a street lamp revealed the figures in full; a mare and a stallion, both unicorns in the prime of life, both cloaked in dark colors. The female clutched a basket against her body with her magic, protecting the precious bundle inside.

“This way, dear,” the male whispered, motioning to a corner in the maze of backstreets that was their only hope of evading capture.

It took the two quite some time to reach their goal, a building at the edge on the city. It stood alone, with little in the way of neighbouring structures. They both knew that meant there was hardly any cover, and so hardly any time to do what needed to be done. While they lingered among the surrounding trees, The mare brought the basket out in front of them and peeled back of the cloth enough to reveal a face. It was a baby foal, blissfully asleep under the light of the moon.

“She looks so peaceful,” the mother said weakly, tears beginning to form in her eyes.

The stallion’s mouth curved upwards in a small smile. “Thank goodness she is asleep. Otherwise this would be so much harder than it already is.”

“Do we have to do this?” the mare looked to her partner with blurry eyes.

“It’s what’s best for her,” he said. “It’s only a matter of time until we’re caught, and she must not be found with us when that happens.”

“But an orphanage… is that really the best place for her?”

“All of our friends are either on the run themselves or can’t take in our daughter. Don’t worry, I know the matron. She will be in good hooves. She’ll find a new family, and have a normal life with a normal foalhood. That’s something we could never give her, even if we kept her.”

“I hope so.” The mother looked to her child again, tears now falling freely down her face.

Together with the slumbering filly, the lovers walked to the large doorstep of the orphanage. Gently placing the basket in front of the door, the two ponies took a few moments to look for one final time at their daughter. The mare knelt down and kissed the foal.

“Goodbye, my darling,” she whispered. “We will always love you.”

The mare hesitated another moment, until the stallion called her name. She wrenched her eyes from the filly with a strangled sob and turned her back. Her husband rang the doorbell, and together they skulked back into the gloomy streets of Canterlot.

============

With lamps lit on every road and park, there was scarcely a shadow to hide in. The capital city of Equestria was alive, but not with its citizens. Legions of guardsponies coursed through the streets like blood through veins. The quiet night was shattered by the rhythmic tread of iron-shod hooves. Those brave enough to peek from their windows were astounded by the scale of the hunt. Some would even say that the hunter seemed desperate. None would have said that to her face.

Standing tall and regal, the hunter looked about her city. The search had run into the small hours, and every last member of the Royal Guard had been called to duty. Her instructions were clear: no road left unchecked, no block unlit. The fugitives would be found. Failure was not to be contemplated.

A large, muscular pegasus stallion wearing officer’s armour approached, marching formally to her side. His stoic face revealed none of his emotions, but his subtly tense jaw and the slight hesitation of his steps spoke volumes. He was apprehensive. And so he should be; he wouldn’t be the first to incite her anger that night. He bowed low in front of her, lower than mere formality demanded. Obviously the news was not good.

“Your Majesty,” he said. “The Radiant Falls precinct is now secure. We have seen no sign of the fugitives there.”

Despite expecting this news, she scowled at the stallion. “Then why have you bothered to report to me? Did I not make it clear enough the first time around that I want only good news or no news at all?”

“My deepest apologies, Your Majesty. The noose continues to tighten; with your wise leadership, the fugitives–”

Her scowl deepened. “I am in no mood for any sycophantic idiocy tonight, Captain Clipper. I want results. Don’t bother coming back to me if you haven’t found them, unless you desire my wrath.”

“Yes, Your Majesty. Right away, Your Majesty.”

His retreat was more run than march. The Empress would have chuckled at the sight of such a strong and accomplished soldier scurrying away in a panic like that, but she was more focused on worrying about the fugitives. Had they escaped the city? Did they spirit away the stolen item somewhere within Canterlot? What were they planning to use it for?

The minutes passed as she waited for good news. The huntress sat on a chariot, pulled by strong pegasus ponies clad in the finest armour. Her Honour Guard was fiercely loyal and capable, although they were mostly used as a show regiment in ceremonies and for carrying her around Equestria. The monarch had originally thought that they would be nothing more than that, as it was widely believed that nopony was brave or stupid enough to break into the palace. But, somehow, somepony had.

Out of the corner of her dragon-like eyes, the regal mare saw a pony trotting casually and confidently towards her. The form was draped in a long black leather cloak with boots that matched the imposing outfit, and wore a pair of tinted goggles. The head of the Blackcloaks and her closest advisor was the only one who was so casual around her, the only one who had the gall to occasionally voice his own opinions.

“I trust this is good news, Inquisitor,” she growled.

“Of course, Your Majesty,” he said, bowing slightly. “If it were otherwise, I would have sent one of my subordinates.”

The mare allowed herself a quick smirk before continuing. “So you have found them?”

The advisor gave a short bow before calling over to a group of Blackcloaks. They came forward, their steps seemingly choreographed to create an air of tension; even now, every fibre of their being seemed to be focused on the goal of fear and intimidation. It was what impressed the Empress the most, and what disturbed her the most. Very few things disturbed the mare, but the Overwatch was at the top of that list.

The Blackcloaks parted to reveal two chained and slightly beaten ponies. A blue stallion and a light grey mare with a purple and white-streaked mane. They were forced to kneel before the tall, pitch black Empress, who sneered at them.

“You two have caused me quite a bit of trouble tonight,” the Empress chuckled. “Breaking into my palace, then into my vault and running out again. Such a dangerous mission, all to steal a little trinket.”

“I think we both know that it’s far from a ‘little trinket’,” the stallion said.

“So you do know what it is?” she smiled wryly. “I had wondered what you were hoping to accomplish with it. Not that it matters now–”

The stallion then did a surprising thing. He laughed. It was small and out of breath, but the empress could hear every ounce of defiance and contempt that the pony had for her in that laugh. She narrowed her slit-pupil eyes at the prisoner. The Blackcloak that forced him to kneel cuffed him in the back of the head for his impudence.

“What is it that you find so funny?” she growled.

“You’ll never find it,” he spat. “Even if you search for a thousand more years, you’ll never find your ‘little trinket’.”

And he still laughed. Even the mare next to him contributed a weak smile. Anger swelled within the huntress, making her shake. The insolence of this criminal was overwhelming. What was more; she saw something in the mare’s eyes, something that should not have been there. Hope.

“Take them away,” she hissed. “Find out all you can from them and then kill them.”

The Blackcloaks swarmed on the two, silencing the rebellious stallion with a couple more hard blows. As the ponies were dragged away, the male screamed out to the night.

“The dawn will come!”

Those words scared the Queen of the Night more than anything had in a very long time.

============

On the outskirts of Canterlot, where the buildings thinned and space became ever more plentiful, a very important basket lay on the doorstep of an orphanage. The cold night air was growing more vivacious just as the doorbell rang. The door opened and out stepped unicorn, brown in colour and with a grey mane that curled down her neck like mist. Looking around, she saw nopony around in the midnight cold, and was about to head back inside when she heard a tiny sigh of a yawn from below.

Looking down, she saw a baby filly. Purple, with a curious mane of dark blue and a streak of pink and indigo. A small horn could be just seen poking out of her hair. A bundle of cloth was wrapped around the foal to protect her from the chill of the frosty night. In the basket alongside the infant were a letter and a small box.

“Well, what do we have here?” murmured the mare, bending down to pick up the basket, still staring at the filly.

The old unicorn unfolded the letter with her magic and read:

Dear Wake,

This letter is not the way I want you to receive my daughter and this basket, but I have no other option. The walls are closing around us, I’m afraid, and there’s little else I can do. If you get this, then it means that we have succeeded and have stolen one of the most precious items in the world from the Usurper. It also means that I am most likely dead. We have placed our daughter in your care, in the hope that you raise her as you do with all of those in your care. Please give her a normal foalhood that any normal filly would have. Please tell her how much she means to us, and that we didn’t abandon her without good reasons.

As for the box, that too is important. I want you to hide it away in a place that nopony will ever find. Protect it and keep it safe until the Movement has rebuilt itself and recuperated from its losses. I apologise for using our codenames again, but if this letter was to fall into the wrong hooves, then our identities must remain anonymous. I probably don’t need to tell you to destroy it immediately after you read it. Thank you for everything you’ve done for us. You have always been a good friend. 

The Dawn will come.

Your friend and comrade, Crescent.

The mare sighed and put the letter back into the basket. She glimpsed something written on the back. A name for the foal. She smiled and looked at the blissfully sleeping filly.

“Let’s get you inside and warmed up,” she said. “You have a long life ahead of you, little Twilight Sparkle.”

============

Questions, Comments, Concerns and Criticisms are welcome!

Written by Municipal Engines, Assisted and Edited by LordOfTheWrongs
> The Orphanage
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chapter One: 
The Orphanage

"Miss Loch?"  
 
Little Twilight Sparkle waited in the nursery doorway for a few more seconds before repeating herself, a bit louder this time. "Excuse me, Miss Loch?" No response. The unicorn was distracted to say the least, juggling two squalling foals with her magic while changing a third one's diaper. Loch Mare was always busy these nights. Ever since Miss Chestnut had quit the orphanage, there was just too much work for too few hooves. Twilight turned and trotted back to the library, trying to shrug off the sting of being ignored. 
 
I'm a big filly now! I can do this myself! And then I won't be a... she bit her lip as a worm of a notion squirmed its way into the forefront of her mind. A burden? 
 
She shoved that thought back into the dark pit it had come from and tossed "being ignored" after it. She knew she was one of the most independent fillies her age. She could pronounce 'independent'. Not like that whiny Silver Glow, she thought, throwing a tantrum if somepony else has the toy she decided she wanted to play with. Twilight knew was better than them. She understood that Miss Loch was busy, and didn't demand more attention than she needed to – just the occasional book from a out-of-reach shelf or a candle stub when the library got too dark. She was happy enough to just be left alone. 
 
Twilight stopped in front of the third bookcase and glared upward. The heavy volume of ‘Stars, Comets, and Moons’ mocked the little filly from the top shelf. It was so close, yet so far away for her. Growling in frustration, she strode to the bottom of the bookcase and gave it a tentative shove with one hoof. The bookcase didn’t even wobble. Good. She cautiously put her weight on the lowest shelf, making sure it would support her. It did, easily. Slowly and carefully, she began to climb upwards.
 
Each step she took was planned, debated and re-examined. Every foot she rose, Twilight immediately tried to find the most stable position. She knew she was no billy goat, and her muscles were simply not cut out for this. But her target still sneered down at her from its shelf, and this only stiffened Twilight’s resolve. The meticulous struggle continued for several minutes. Twilight’s muscles were beginning to ache from the effort of clinging to the bookcase, and her legs were growing shaky. Biting her lip, she stretched her neck upward. She could see her prize! She could almost touch it. Unfortunately, it was still just out of the filly’s reach.
 
Grunting with exasperation, Twilight released the bookcase with one hoof and stretched it out as far as she could, trying to catch the edge of the book. Furrowing her brow, she shifted her weight and pushed up on her leg, gaining a few more inches. Her hoof met the book and she gave a squeak of victory.
 
The moment of elation was a mistake. Her concentration slipped just a fraction, and her hoofhold slipped along with it. Twilight groped to recover her balance, but it was too late. Her flailing arms caught the edge of the hardback and she fell. Her rump hit the floor with a burst of pain. Then, just when she thought it was over, a heavy book hammered her head to the floor. Stars exploded behind her eyelids. She lay stunned on the carpet for a few seconds, too shocked to even register the new stinging sensation that attacked the top of her skull. Then she started to cry. 
 
“Twilight?” a voice called from behind her.
 
The filly turned and, through her tear-veiled eyes, found an earth pony with a coat of a green fainter than should really be possible. Her hair cascaded down her head like a sparkling blue waterfall. Apple Orchid was the counsellor of the foster home. Miss Loch often felt genuinely concerned that Twilight had some kind of anti-social mental problem, so Apple Orchid and Twilight would naturally meet often. She shook her head and gave an exasperated sigh. The librarian looked back at the table she was working on – papers and reports stacked high – and then to Twilight before she let out another sigh and knelt down to the filly.
 
“Come here, hayseed,” Apple Orchid scooped Twilight up into an embrace. Her voice –moderately thick with a Southern Equestrian countryside accent – seemed to betray the slightest hint of disappointment. “Land sakes, now that’s one hay of a bump. Don’t you worry now though; ah’ll get the soothin’ balm.”
 
The young mare left Twilight for a moment before returning from a cupboard in the corner, balm held firmly in her mouth. Sitting down in front of the filly, Orchid squeezed some cream onto her hoof and gently massaged it onto the bruise on Twilight’s head. The cream worked wonders. Almost immediately, the painful throbbing in her head had subsided and was replaced by a cool numbness. The lavender unicorn wiped her eyes with a hoof and leaned into the counsellor for a thankful hug.
 
“Thank you, Apple Orchid,” she said.
 
“Ah, don’t mention it, Twilight,” the earth pony walked over to the fallen book and picked it up. Orchid slipped it into Twilight’s discarded bag, which was soon slung onto the foal’s back. “Don’t forget your book.”
 
The filly nodded and repeated her thanks as the adult returned eagerly to her work. Hurrying out of the library, Twilight wondered about Apple Orchid. Like Miss Loch, as of late the counsellor had an ever decreasing amount of time to spend with Twilight. The unicorn was mature enough to understand the concept of prioritising for work, but she still did not appreciate it. How long would it be until everyone she cared for had no time left for her?
 
Shaking her head, she focussed. The unicorn knew better than to get lost in her own contemplations. They almost always brought up a tightness in her chest and drew her away from matters at hoof. Like reading. So she turned her attention to the hefty tome fitting snugly in her saddlebag. The unicorn had always had a great skill in reading – and a literary appetite to match. While other foals had been reading books like ‘The Very Hungry Parasprite’, Twilight had stormed through texts on subjects from architecture to zoology.
 
It was a pleasant night outside, so Twilight braved the playground to take advantage of the brilliant noontime moon. It was almost too bright to look at, so much so that it overwhelmed all but the brightest stars and Twilight only needed a small lamp to read by. Lights seeping from the orphanage building across the field added to the brightness of the night. She carefully kept a sneer off her face as she gave the hoofball field a wide berth. Noisy, obnoxious foals always annoyed her. She knew she shouldn’t think of other children as ‘mule-brained idiots’, but the thought came anyway She had to concentrate to block out the squeals and chatting from the rest of the playground, but the warm breeze that rustled the grass on her little knoll was worth it.  
 
"What is it you're reading this week, Twilight?"  
 
The little unicorn started, but she was already breaking into a grin as she looked up. The sweet voice, slightly roughened from years of shouting over the shrill shrieks of children, belonged to Miss Loch. The mare's coat was a delicate, faintly speckled brown, as if she were covered with light chocolate shavings and topped with a whipped-cream dollop of a mane.  
 
"Something about the moon and stars." 
 
"And did you get an adult to help you fetch it down from its shelf?" the older mare asked, her smile gaining a trace of a disappointed frown. 
 
Twilight cringed. "No, ma'am," she replied in an appropriately subdued tone. 
 
"Well, Miss Orchid told me you already punished yourself, so I won't add anything to that... but now we know why we ask for things we can't reach, don’t we?" 
 
Twilight nodded soberly. "Yes, ma'am," she agreed, though she had no intention of doing so. She wasn’t to be defeated so easily.
 
Miss Loch leaned down, touching her neck to Twilight's. The little filly leaned eagerly into the rare embrace. "I'm just glad you're not hurt." She glanced at the pages over Twilight's shoulder and changed the subject. "Your newest reading trend?" 
 
“I guess so…” Twilight blushed. “I kind of want to find more books on the subject, Miss Loch. Maybe you or one of the other adults can take me to the public library?”  
 
“Twilight,” Miss Loch gave a good-natured sigh. “I think you ought to consider taking a break from reading. Every month, it’s always a different binge of books.” 
 
“But I like reading,” Twilight said meekly. 
 
“Yes, but this is more like… studying,” the brown unicorn chided. “I mean, it’s almost always non-fiction. You’re not even reading storybooks like the others.” 
 
“Those are all so stupid, though. It’s always the same cheesy plots and the writing’s really bad and the characters are so foalish, and besides,” Twilight’s face contorted into a momentary look of irritation. “You won’t let me read the older stuff.” 
 
“That may be true, but it’s for your own good; I don’t want you getting cynical at your age,” the caretaker answered. “In any case, you shouldn’t really be reading during your spare time like this. You should be out having fun and playing with the others.” 
 
“I don’t want to play with anypony though,” Twilight’s tone wavered at the thought. The others were somewhat... intimidated, perhaps, of her. She nodded internally. Yes, that was what they thought of her. They were just intimidated and put off by the fact that she was much more mature than them. That was why they called her names. “I just want to read. It makes me happy.”
 
As the filly’s voice trailed off weakly with her last sentence, Miss Loch gave her a sympathetic look and bent down to her to come to the unicorn foal’s level.  
 
“I know it does, and if that’s what you want, then I won’t force you, but I hope that you will at least talk to some of the others,” she said.
 
“Thank you, Miss Loch!” Twilight chirped brightly. “I know Orion will want to go, and I’ll check with—”
 
Raised voices on the hoofball field interrupted Twilight, cutting through the general noise of the playground.
 
“I did not trip you!” one of the older fillies yelled.
 
“Did too, you liar! I get a free kick!” the colt retorted.
 
“Oh, I’ll give you a free kick...!” The filly seemed on the verge of turning around to buck him in the teeth. Miss Loch took off at a gallop to intercede before it came to blows.
 
The little unicorn was left alone.
 
“Babies,” she muttered as she shifted to get comfortable again and turned the page with her hoof.
 
Twilight had only just begun to read again when she heard several sets of hooves coming towards her. She groaned internally. Of course, the moment Miss Loch’s distracted. Maybe if she kept her nose in the book they would pass her by. The hoofbeats stopped. Of course, I never have such luck, she thought dryly. Several shadows fell over her. Reluctantly, the unicorn filly looked up. Looming over her were two earth pony colts and a pegasus. Twilight gave another internal groan. These three had lost their parents at an older age than most of the other orphans, which, in the logic of bullies, was reason enough to pick on smaller ponies. And it looked like she was tonight's target.   
 
“Whatcha reading, nerd?” the pegasus asked mockingly. 
 
Twilight steeled herself. I’m not going to let them get to me this time, she thought.  In the year since their arrival together, the colts had found Twilight to be a tempting victim. She had retreated in tears more than once, but she had never quite said anything to Miss Loch about them. The matron didn’t need to be bothered about some minor bullying. In any case, she wasn’t a tattle-tale. It certainly wasn’t because they were big and strong and scary, or anything silly like that. She could handle it herself. 
 
The unicorn forced her face to look as nonchalant as she could make it and glanced at them lazily. “You’re in my light,” she said. 
 
“Too bad,” the pegasus, replied curtly, probably somewhat annoyed at her apathy. This was Blitz; the meanest colt she thought could ever exist. His name was fitting, though – he struck fast and offered no quarter.
 
He gave a malicious smile and snatched the book away from the filly. Twilight winced, but she had learned from the past that they just wanted a reaction out of her. She was determined not to give him such a satisfaction. She looked down at the ground intently with a furrowed brow, trying to block them out from her mind. 
 
“Aw, look, she’s trying to ignore us,” Blitz snickered. “I don’t like to be ignored, nerd, but I guess you’re used to it, huh? ‘Cos you’ve got no friends.” 
 
Twilight kept her eyes fixed to the ground and now started to silently. Oh Arche, please make them leave. Please. After a few moments, the three bullies realised that she was not going to respond. 
 
“No one here even likes you,” the bully sneered, leaning closer to her. “But you probably don’t even care do you? You’re a nerd that only likes books.” 
 
Twilight felt the tears begin to well up in her eyes. She made a conscious decision to not socialise much, instead focusing on her reading and her studies. That’s not true! Orion likes me! ...right? she thought. She shook her head and forced the tears back down. Twilight knew better than to believe the words of a bully. 
 
“I’d be nicer to me if I were you,” she said, looking up at the bullies, frowning defiantly. “One night I’ll be big and important and successful, and I’ll remember you all.” 
 
“Oh really? Is that ‘cos you read a lot, nerd?” the pegasus sneered. Out of reflex, she nodded weakly. “Well let’s see how ‘important and successful’ you’ll be without your book.” 
 
“No!”
 
Her widened eyes darted around the field for any sign of Miss Loch. To her utter dismay, Twilight realised that she wasn’t there, and she wouldn’t be able to help her. The filly looked at the larger colt, who snickered at the tears that started to form in her eyes.
 
Passing ‘Stars, Comets, and Moons’ to one of his cohorts, he grabbed the lamp off the tree. Twilight’s eyes widened in horror and darted around for any sign of Miss Loch. To her dismay, the older unicorn had taken the two hoofballers inside for a talking-to. Twilight Sparkle lunged toward the book, but the other earth pony intercepted her and held her back. They all snickered at the tears that finally began to form in her eyes.
 
“Give me back my book. Please,” she begged.  
 
The bully’s lackey dropped the book on the grass and the pegasus smashed the lamp over it. The oil caught instantly and poured liquid fire over the cover and down the edges of the pages. Within moments the old tome was completely engulfed in flames.
 
Through tear-blurred eyes she glared hatefully at the bullies, the two earth ponies seemingly transfixed by the fire while the pegasus seemed to be looking intently at her. His mouth curved upwards into a spiteful grin as he took a threatening step towards her. 
 
“If Miss Loch asks, this was an accident. Don’t think I won’t hit you ‘cos you’re a girl, ‘cos that’ll be what happens if you try to snitch,” he growled, before turning to the two earth pony brothers. “Come on you two, let’s get out of here before the old mule shows up.” 
 
The bullies left the unicorn alone under the tree, heading coolly back to the building, laughing as they walked. Twilight sat on the knoll, now alone, crying freely. What was she to do? She knew that if she told Miss Loch what happened, then the bullies would hurt her. The rational part of Twilight’s mind told her that Miss Loch wouldn’t let them have the opportunity. But... but they’re so big and strong and scary. She stared sadly at the burning book; its pages now charred beyond redemption, and sighed sadly. 
 
“I’ll tell her it was an accident,” she murmured to herself. “She won’t get mad at me if it wasn't deliberate".
 
============ 
 
“But that’s not fair!” 
 
Miss Loch raised an eyebrow at Twilight’s outburst and smiled sadly. Though the gesture was one of a reassuring kindness, Twilight could not help but see it as a patronising reaction from Loch Mare. The adult unicorn’s office felt like a court room – one in which the judge was perhaps trying a little too hard to remain in the accused’s favour. Mahogany and maroon dominated the walls and floor of the matron’s office. The heavy curtains were thrown wide to let the moon’s bright light spill into the room. The matron sighed and tried to explain herself. 
 
“Twilight, you destroyed a very old, quite valuable book,” she said, putting a hoof up just as the filly opened her mouth for a retort. “And even though you say it was an accident, you still need to appreciate the consequences of these kinds of things. I entrusted the well-being of the book to you and you let me down. Anyway, I doubt the lamp was knocked onto the book without the assistance of some foolish action on your part.” 
 
“But I… it wasn’t an…” Twilight started, but trailed off as her mind waged a battle with itself on whether to tell the truth, and risk a beating, or to lie and face the punishment. She remembered her ‘conversation’ with Blitz as she waited outside Miss Loch’s office.
 
“I hope you won’t tell Loch anything we’d both regret, eh?” he leered, drawing closer to her with a menacing step.
 
Twilight’s heart seemed to stop and contract. She instinctively backed away, stuttering a reply.
 
“N-no! I’ll tell her it was an accident. I won’t mention you at all.”
 
“Good,” he smiled, striding away from her. “’Cos I’d hate to have to break everything in your room… and then break you.”
 
Twilight gulped at the memory. “Can’t I be given something else? Everypony else gets to go to the Annual Eclipse Festival.” 
 
“There are rules here, Twilight, and you need to understand the responsibility of abiding to rules,” the mare replied, a stern tone slipping into place. “While breaking the lamp and destroying the book may have been a careless mistake, there are penalties for ponies’ actions. Think of it this way; if I let you off for setting fire to a valuable book, then what would the others think they can get away with?” 
 
Twilight considered this for a moment, before trying one more time. 
 
“But it was an accident,” she whined. “I’m really sorry.” 
 
“I know Twilight, but accident or no, you need to accept responsibility. Besides, it’s not like you’ll miss anything. The eclipse can be seen from all over Equestria, and it happens every year. You'll have other chances.” 
 
“But what about the festivities in the Square? And the Empress will be there to make the eclipse herself.” 
 
Miss Loch’s face drew down into the slightest of frowns. “Seeing the Empress is not reason enough to avoid your punishment. Twilight, my word is final. You are grounded to your room for the night,” her face and voice softened as she continued. “Now you may leave. And send in Starburst as you go.” 
 
Twilight dragged herself out of the room with a defeated expression and slumped shoulders. She barely even muttered to the young gold-yellow pegasus colt waiting outside the door as she passed him. The brightly coloured halls of the orphanage barely registered to her as she went. She passed a group of foals who chimed an enthusiastic, chirpy greeting that, in her current mood, made Twilight want to scream. She ignored the fillies and rounded a corner, where she bumped into a pony she really did not want to see. A certain pegasus colt, to be specific.
 
Blitz glowered at her with a pair of eyes that screamed of malice.
 
The unicorn froze in the spot. As much as she tried to, she could not tear her fear-wracked stare away from Blitz. Luckily, he gave a wry smile and a contented huff before he strode away. Twilight gave a muffled scream of anger at her reaction. Stupid! she berated herself. How could you let something so small as a simple look get to you? She stomped down the corridor, feeling conflicted, and turned to the entrance of her dorm.
 
Twilight stormed through the door and slammed it behind her. Her room was the usual layout for the foster home, with bed, chest of drawers, wardrobe and desk all in the same arrangement, although this room had considerably more books and scrolls stacked into whatever spare storage there was than other rooms. A large map of Equestria adorned one wall while an equally sizeable star-chart hung opposite it, as if the room were suspended sideways halfway between the heavens and the earth. A telescope was crammed in next to the window, its lens pointed upwards towards the ever starlit sky. 
 
Unlike most of the rooms in the dormitory wing, though, it held an extra set of furniture. In the recent years there had been a considerable rise in ponies who needed foster care, and so empty rooms steadily began to be filled. Soon, there had been more foster foals than there were rooms to put them in. Never one to turn away ponies, Loch Mare simply decided that the occupants of the foster home could share rooms when necessary. 
 
The lavender unicorn filly had been one of the first who had to share with a new arrival, a little over half a year ago; Miss Loch obviously hoped it would help her learn to socialise more. It did, to a degree. Her roommate was a colt, much to Twilight’s initial distaste. The young earth pony had been quiet and shy at first – Twilight had to admit her constant glaring and her short-lived attempt to build a wall of books down the middle of the room might have had something to do with that – but she warmed to him when she discovered that he, too, had an interest in astronomy. 
 
The telescope had been their first joint project together. After convincing Miss Loch to buy an old, knocked-out-of-alignment telescope from a pawn shop, the two had set about the task of fixing it up together. Any necessary costs came straight from their allowance, and the colt had stuck with her every bit of the way. It was nice to have someone around who didn’t treat her like either a stupid foal who couldn’t tell when she was being patronised, or some kind of wizened hermit. Or a punching bag, her brain added mercilessly. Orion let her make many of the decisions in the project and helped her out whenever she needed help. He taught her so many things since then. He was an excellent study partner; even though Twilight was sure he had his own schoolwork to get on with.
 
Twilight found the white-coated earth pony sitting on his bed, buried in one of those silly pirate stories again. The colt had taken to books almost as readily as Twilight did, at least in certain genres. She threw herself down on her own bed with an angry huff, and the colt peered over the edge of his hardback at her. 
 
“What’s wrong, Twilight?” the refined, soft voice of her roommate was laden with concern. 
 
Sitting up, she looked at him and, with a deep gulp of air, told him everything that was wrong with this night. How she had bumped her head and cried because of it. How Miss Loch had been too busy to help, how she had been picked on by the three infamous bullies and then had her book burnt. The filly’s little voice grew harsh and angry as she recounted her conversation with Miss Loch, and her resulting punishment.
 
The colt slipped a bookmark in between some pages of his book and put it to one side. His attention was now fully on her. Orion was always a good listener. He sighed and shook his head in a resigned fashion.
 
“Why don’t you just tell her the truth then?” he asked. “I doubt they’d get the opportunity to hurt you. Perhaps they’re just bluffing anyway.” 
 
“Don’t you think I thought of that?” the lavender unicorn snapped, somewhat more harshly than she intended to. "If they started stealing my things I could never prove it. Or... or they might go after you. In the end, they'll just hurt me in whatever way they could if I told on them.”
 
“Okay then. I see your point,” Orion replied. “Since you’re obviously not going to the Eclipse Festival, what are you going to do instead?” 
 
“I dunno, probably just read about it.” she replied bitterly, hanging her head. 
 
“Do you want me to get any books for you from the library?” the earth pony asked. 
 
“Yeah, that’d be great,” she said without enthusiasm. Her anger had gone for the most part and now she held only self-pity and disappointment in her voice. 
 
Getting up off his bed, Orion headed to the door, but froze with his hoof on the handle. The colt suddenly whirled around with an uncharacteristically wide grin on his face and a mischievous glitter in his eyes. Twilight waited a moment, but he clearly wanted her to ask.  
 
“What?” 
 
“I have an idea,” he announced dramatically, then let silence fall again. 
 
Twilight's patience began to wear thin. “Which is?”  
 
“I’ll help you sneak out, and we can go to the festival together,” he said, a new eagerness breaking his reserved demeanour.  
 
“What? No!” Twilight cried. “We can’t do that, I’ll get in trouble.” 
 
“The worst they’ll do is ground you some more,” Orion shrugged. “You’ll have plenty of other nights to waste being punished in your room, but the Eclipse Festival comes only once a year.” 
 
Twilight creased her brow and looked down, considering this. She longed to go to the Festival, and she really did not want to wait another year. It was not often that the thought of going out into Canterlot appealed to Twilight, but the Festival was different. The moon had always mesmerised Twilight, its waxing and waning like the slow swing of a hypnotist’s watch. But the eclipse was something... magical. It tugged at her soul in a way she couldn’t fathom. Twilight had stayed awake for hours after lights-out in previous years, captivated by the sheer beauty of the Crowned Moon. To see the Empress create that glory in person, she would gladly accept a month in her room.
 
Well... three weeks. If she had to.
 
She returned her gaze to the usually stoic Orion, who watched her with undisguised hope. She gave a sigh of mock reluctance. 
 
“Fine, I’ll sneak out with you,” a small grin crept up on her. “But if we get caught, you’re taking all the blame.” 
 
“Deal!” the colt beamed. 
 
============

Questions, Comments, Concerns and Criticisms are welcome!

Written by Municipal Engines, Assisted and Edited by LordOfTheWrongs
> Filly at the Festival
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chapter Two:
Filly at the Festival


The pair waited until those who wanted to go to the Eclipse Festival had left to spring their plan. Miss Loch, as she did every year, had elected to stay behind. Twilight could never understand the mare’s problem with the Festival, but she figured that it was just another adult being a stick in the mud. Nevertheless, the building was almost empty with the staff out chaperoning the Festival-goers. It was perfect.
 
Orion, as it turned out, was remarkably adept at sneaking out of places. It showed in his preparation and execution of what they fondly titled ‘Operation Enduring Freedom’. A recorder had been set to play the sounds of Twilight snoring, the door had been locked and, as an extra precautionary measure, Orion had created some pillow-based effigies of the unicorn under her covers. 
 
Twilight and he then lassoed a rope onto a nearby thick branch of an old oak tree. Making sure it was sturdy, Orion swung across to land on a lower branch. Helping Twilight do the same, they quickly scampered onto the ground. Now firmly entrenched on the soil, they scanned the area. Nopony was around, and the only lights on were coming from the foster home and the epicentre of the city. Orion motioned for Twilight to follow him.
 
They raced along the darkness-shrouded field that separated the orphanage from the rest of the city. Twilight kept close by Orion, who skulked along the ground as fast and stealthy as a Shadowbolt. She had a hard time keeping up. It the corner of her eye, she saw a mass of blurs and light. Realisation quickly came to her, and she called out to Orion in a frantic half-whisper.
 
“Orion, there’s some ponies coming this way!”
 
Orion skidded to a halt. He whipped around and grabbed Twilight. Silent to her still, he darted to the closest bush and motioned her behind it. Twilight saw from behind the leaves and twigs of the bush a light draw near to them. Orion turned around to face it calmly.
 
“Orion?” a familiar rural voice rang out.
 
“It’s me, Miss Apple Orchid.”
 
“Whatcha doin’ out here by yourself?” she asked, raising an eyebrow quizzically. “Alone, in the dark.”
 
“I’m just taking a mid-evening stroll,” the colt replied, flicking his eyes upwards towards the night sky. “The stars are really vivid tonight.”
 
“Ah take it you’re not gonna come with us to the Festival?”
 
“I don’t think so; I don’t really get along well in crowds,” he lied effortlessly. “I’d just like a quiet night alone.”
 
“Fair enough,” Apple Orchid smiled.
 
The counsellor then trotted away, bidding Orion a good night and joining her group of foals. As they resumed their previous course, Twilight breathed a sigh of relief. After several more minutes of patient – or, in Twilight’s case, impatient – waiting, the pair of young ponies resumed their own illicit escapade. Crossing the field, they arrived at the hub of city blocks that was Canterlot.
 
It was not long before the buildings became closer and closer together and larger too. The streets grew narrower as the pair of foals made their way to the square – though, keeping with Canterlot architecture, the roads were still quite spacious. Twilight couldn’t help but become slightly afraid at the hustle and bustle of the city. Despite the Festival occurring, there were plenty of ponies walking about, with carriages trundling up and down the centre of the road. An aloof and prideful noble glanced down at the pair with something like disdain. Bully, said her instincts. Don't draw attention.
 
The white colt’s own face was mirroring those of the other Canterlotians. However, his was a softer somehow more dignified look of withdrawal. It was a common look on the stoic colt. Orion, ever since he had moved into Twilight’s room, never showed much in the way of feelings, except whenever he became engrossed in a particular train of thought, or entrapped by one of the many pet projects he liked to do. Neither did he divulge much of his past to Twilight. He was a couple of years older than her, which had confused her at first; she'd expected a roommate her own age. Orion never spoke much about his life before the orphanage. From what Twilight had gathered, he came from a small town called Ponyville. All he would say about his family was their tradition of naming foals after star patterns. It sounded like he had lost his parents rather recently, but Twilight didn't press him to talk about it – sometimes she woke in the middle of the night to hear Orion crying quietly on the other side of the room, and that was explanation enough. She had never told him she knew.
 
Following Orion, Twilight turned the corner of a road and was faced with a sight that made her both excitedly giddy and irritatingly nauseous. Her stomach was full of butterflies intent on smashing their way out of her body, seeming to try and push through her throat. The unicorn forced the feeling of sickness down and focused on the scenery. Pavilions, gazebos, stalls and rides of all kinds stood in the square. A large ferris wheel caught her eyes, her eyes followed the motion of the ride for what seemed like many minutes, until a nudge from Orion set her straight. Shaking her head, Twilight followed the older colt as he started forward. Lights glared at her from all directions and the music was, while individually distinguishable at first, soon swirled into one blaring up-beat noise. A tent covered in stars was proudly displayed in an open space. Around it were slates that projected ghostly silhouetted images of ponies dancing wildly and luridly. While mesmerised by the display, Twilight soon found herself drawn to the constellations on the tent canvas – and how wrong they were. Orion’s Belt has three stars, not four, she bitterly noted. It took all of her willpower to not go over there and tell the owner of the tent how wrong they really were. As Orion continued to walk, she tore her eyes away from the tent. The crowds were even larger than what there was in the streets. It seemed that every unicorn, pegasus, and earth pony in Canterlot packed the square, and even more still poured in from the surrounding settlements.
 
The air was hot and heavy with the warmth and scents of close-packed bodies under the supernaturally bright moon. She could barely hear herself think over the noise. Music and chatter compacted into a constant buzz. She listened to scraps of conversation and songs as they came and went, lost in the sea of noise. Her concentration was broken by a nudge at her side.
 
“Stick with me,” Orion said, his soft voice somehow managing to carry through the ambiance of the Festival.
 
Twilight nodded her affirmation as he continued to lead her through the square. It was not long before Twilight heard her companion murmur something then veer off to the left. With the filly in tow, he stepped up to a small stall stacked with all sorts of treats. Stationed at it was a stallion with a coat that reminded Twilight of burnt oranges. He wore a brown, dusty Stetson hat that his cropped strawberry mane just managed to poke out of. He was gruff and large and Twilight couldn’t help but feel slightly intimidated by him. But her fear quickly evaporated when he gave them both a friendly grin.
 
“Howdy y’all.” The earth pony had an accent that sounded an awful lot like Miss Orchid’s. “What can ah get fer ya?”
 
“What do you have?” Orion’s tone was reserved but warm.
 
“Well, ah’ve got apple fritters, apple tarts, caramel apples, apple crumble,” his grin grew wider. “And o’ course, ah have some of the best darn, freshest, juiciest apples you’ll ever taste. Sweet Apple Acres specials, is what they are.”
 
The white colt cocked his head to Twilight. “What would you like, Twi?”
 
Scanning the stall, the filly’s eyes fell on a sticky and inviting treat.
 
“That caramel apple looks good,” she replied, pointing a hoof at the sweet.
 
“I think I’ll have that too,” Orion told the vendor.
 
The vendor retrieved the two caramel-drenched apples and gave them to Orion, who in turn handed over the necessary amount of bits. The orange earth pony beamed at them.
 
“Have a nice night, both o’ y’all,” he said, waving at them as they walked away. “An’ don’t forget t’ thank yer brother for buying y’all this, little miss!”
 
Twilight was about to correct the stallion, until Orion yelled back his thanks and gave her one of the apple treats. They stopped walking for a while, concentrating on the task of holding and eating their sweets. Twilight never tasted anything so sickeningly saccharine before, and nor did she eat anything so messy. The unicorn filly grunted in annoyance as the ichor coated her mouth. She tried licking around her mouth, but to no avail. Her growl of irritation was met by a chuckle from Orion.
 
“Here Twi,” he handed her a handkerchief, which she used diligently.
 
“What’s next Orion?” the filly asked, handing him back the newly caramel-encrusted cloth.
 
He looked around for a while before returning his gaze to Twilight. The elder pony broke out into a wide grin.
 
“Let’s go on some rides.”
 
Orion picked the first one. He chose the dodgems. Magically charged capsules ramming into one another at the will of their pony masters was, as it turned out, not as fun as Twilight first thought it would be. The little filly struggled to maintain control of her capsule, but she was being thrown around far too often for her liking. Orion, on the other hand, remained stable and let out a rare whimsical laugh whenever he smashed into another capsule and sent the pony lurching. Twilight noticed he would often come to her rescue, crashing into the side of a charging capsule driven by a particularly large and malicious-looking colt.
 
Staggering out of the ride, Twilight felt the world reeling. Her discombobulated senses barely picked up the mention of her name to her left. Orion walked up to her and held her steady, waiting for a while before repeating himself.
 
“Twilight, you okay?”
 
A vigorous shake of her head seemed to have a positive effect on Twilight.
 
“I’m fine,” she giggled. “Just a little dazed. It was kinda fun though.”
 
“Yeah, it was pretty rough for you. Sorry about that.”
 
“It’s fine, Orion. I had fun,” she reiterated.
 
Her eyes wandered the square, searching for a new opportunity for carnival fun. They fell on the tent she had seen earlier before. A small crowd had gathered around it, shuffling around with trepidation. Vibrant, neon colours crackled in the air as the phantom images of ponies continued their vivacious dance. From this angle, Twilight could now see the words of a sign that had been hung up over the entrance to the tent.
 
“‘The Wise and Wonderful Willow’?” Twilight read aloud, curiously, before narrowing her eyes to see the smaller text written beneath. “‘Fortune-teller, prophet and diviner of ancient secrets.’”
 
Orion snorted. “Sounds like a complete fraud if you ask me. Still, it might be entertaining to watch.”
 
After trotting over to the crowd, they found that it had already dispersed somewhat. This gave them ample room to squeeze their way to the front without stepping on too many hooves. Orion, being larger than most colts his age, drew many more irked glares than Twilight did. The lavender unicorn paid no attention to the reactions of the crowd, however, as her gaze was fixed curiously on a filly who seemed to be doing her best to attract the attention of the crowd.
 
“Each of you shall be awestruck with awe, for tonight!” the little azure unicorn stood as proud and tall as she could, letting the dramatic pause roll on for perhaps a little too long. “The stars and the ghosts of the world have come together for this sacred event. Witness, if you dare, the dive-nations–”
 
Twilight heard a hushed voice speak from within the tent. “That’s ‘divinations’, dear.”
 
“Witness the divinations,” The filly blushed slightly as she corrected herself. “of the Great, the All-knowing, the Mystical, the Magical, the–” There was the sound of the clearing of a throat and the filly blushed again, more pronounced this time. She bit her lip and continued, but much more hurriedly this time. “Presenting the Wise and Wonderful Willow!”
 
A flash of light blinded the audience for a moment, leaving a unicorn mare standing triumphantly on the wooden-tile stage in its wake. Her coat was a deep, velvety purple and her mane had been curled in an exotic fashion – its locks the same blue of the filly’s coat. The mare was dressed in satin that dripped off her back in stylised ruffles, although there was a parting on one of her flanks that proudly displayed her cutie mark – an azure eye superposed over a white star. Bangles and ribbons adorned her mane in a seemingly ramshackle, patternless display. The mare smiled sweetly at her audience.
 
“Greetings, everypony,” she cooed in a soft, whimsical voice. “The Wise and Wonderful Willow shall, on this most sacred of nights, consult with the spirits and peer into the world of dreams. She shall perform this hallowed rite all for you, mere mortals.”
 
Twilight’s attention was ripped away from the display when Orion sighed in contempt and turned to Twilight.
 
“Come on Twi,” he said, perhaps louder than was intended. “Let’s not waste our time here.”
 
“My, oh my,” the fortune-teller proclaimed. “It seems that we have a skeptic among us. Tell the Wise and Wonderful Willow, boy, why you take the words of the spirits so lightly.”
 
The stoic colt turned to her and answered plainly: “It’s not the ‘words of the spirits’ that you’re spouting, Miss Willow, it’s just some gibberish that you’re shoveling the crowd. I mean, do you really expect us to believe that, through all this pomp, you can actually see the future?”
 
The small blue unicorn next to Willow seemed just about ready to rebuke Orion, until the mare put a hoof on her shoulder to calm her down. She just smiled and stepped forward.
 
“Then Willow supposes you won’t mind coming inside for a vision of your future,” she said, wryly.
 
“I don’t have time for this, sorry,” the colt replied curtly, turning to leave until Twilight elbowed him.
 
“Come on Orion,” she said, enthusiasm creeping into her voice. “Let’s just see it. If it’s no good, then there’s no harm done.”
 
The snow-coated pony looked warily at Twilight, then to Willow, then back at Twilight before sighing.
 
“All right then,” he relented. “But if it’s no good, I want my bits back.”
 
“Willow is generous and accepts your conditions,” the mare agreed smugly. She turned to the rest of the audience. “The Wise and Wonderful Willow shall not be too long. If you would form an orderly queue, she would be happy to consult the spirits for you in due course.”
 
Twilight eagerly cantered into the tent, followed by a much less enthusiastic Orion. The unicorn mare and filly headed in after them before sealing the entrance shut. When the door-flap was closed, the hum of music and noise from the Festival ceased. Twilight could guess that it was some kind of sound-proofing spell. She looked around the tent. The floor was plain canvas cushioned with rugs, and in the centre was a circular table with seating cushions either side of it. The mare took her place, motioning for Orion to do the same.
 
“So, how is this supposed to work?” the colt asked once he placed himself on the cushion.
 
“The Wise and Wonderful Willow will, with her star-given gifts, parley with the spirits of the dream world and–"
 
“Can you drop the horse-radish?” Orion asked rhetorically. “You’re not fooling anyone here.”
 
It was the filly who was the first to answer. “How dare you use that tone here! You have no idea who you’re dealing with!”
 
“Beatrix, quiet!” Willow snapped, shutting the unicorn filly up almost immediately. She returned her attention to Orion and gave a defeated sigh. “Fine, since you’re obviously too cynical to be convinced of this, then I’ll admit that I don’t actually talk to dream-spirits.”
 
A victorious smile grew on Orion’s lips. “Knew it. There’s no prophecy here.”
 
“But,” the mare held up a hoof, somewhat irritated at his pre-emptive conclusion. “I do see your future, just not with ghosts. I got my cutie mark for a reason, young pony.”
 
“So it’s magic,” the colt nodded. “Prove it.”
 
“I’ll need a name first.”

“Orion.”
 
“Give me your hoof Orion,” she commanded.
 
Orion gingerly complied, reaching across the table and allowing the enchantress to take his hoof in both of hers. She closed her eyes and concentrated. Twilight took the opportunity of silence to look around the room. The blue filly had placed herself next to Twilight, and was staring at her with an excited expression. Twilight raised her eyebrow at the foal, who simply grinned back and turned to look at Orion and Willow.
 
“This is when it gets really cool,” she breathed, her eyes widening with glee.
 
Willow’s horn was now glowing, an aurora of sapphire blanketing it like a rippling piece of translucent silk. The mare opened her eyes, which now flashed with a shiny, magical film that looked like pools of silver. They darted all over, as if a dramatic scene was unfolding right then and there. After a short moment of this, a faint, invisible wave pulsed through the room, setting Twilight’s teeth on edge and signaling the end of the spell. The unicorn mare blinked – her eyes losing their misty quality – and pulled her hooves back from Orion.
 
Shivering, the colt opened his eyes and looked at the diviner with a dead-set stare.
 
“What did you see?”
 
“As usual, Mister Orion, only snippets,” she smiled. “And before you ask, for me to see a more complete sequence of events I would need instruments and several hours of meditation. You’ll have to pay me for that particular service though, and it will certainly be out of your price range.”
 
Orion nodded, but repeated the question: “What did you see?”
 
“I saw you and Twilight Sparkle here,” she indicated the now flabbergasted Twilight. We never told her my name, she shivered. “You hugged, and said goodbye. It seemed like it would be for a long time, from the looks of it. Then I saw you, alone in a darkened room. You were crying.”
 
Orion and Twilight flinched at once after she finished. Twilight’s heart caved in. Goodbye, for a long time? She forced the tears that began to form down, biting her lip. Beatrix, the unicorn filly sitting next to her, gave the purple foal a sympathetic look, lifting a hoof to console her, but quickly putting it back down. Twilight looked at Orion, who seemed to have retreated into his usual passive, emotionless demeanor.
 
“It’s not the sort of thing you wanted to hear, was it?” the Wise and Wonderful Willow asked, sorrow creeping into her soft voice. “You seemed to be the type who would prefer the truth to a trivial vision of a future fillyfriend, or an out-of-context look at some euphoric moment in your life. I take it that you’re dissatisfied?”
 
“No, you’ve just given me quite a lot to think about,” Orion murmured, before looking up at the mare with a neutral expression. “How much do I owe you?”
 
“Ten bits, for this one.”
 
Orion counted out the money and the unicorn scooped it up in a magical grasp. They bid their farewells as they left. Twilight walked closer to Orion than before, almost brushing up against him. She looked up at the large blue-maned colt with concern plastered over her face. He noticed her look and smiled down at her reassuringly.
 
“Come on Twi,” a cheery tone was very thick in his voice. “Let’s not worry about stuff that probably won’t even happen. I mean, even if it were true, then now that we know the future, we can change it. Right?”
 
The filly beamed. Of course! Why hadn’t I thought of that before?
 
“You’re right, Orion,” she chirped. “Let’s go and enjoy the rest of the night.”
 
They did just that. They visited more rides and stalls, from spinning teacups to water-squirting games. As she walked happily through the Festival, munching at a fluffy ball of cotton candy with Orion at her side, Twilight saw that ponies around her had begun to converge to the middle of the square.
 
“Is it time for the eclipse?” she asked Orion with barely contained excitement, who raised an eyebrow at her good-naturedly.  
 
“I think so,” the colt replied. “Shall we get front-row seats?”
 
“You bet!” Twilight cried, her heart jumping at the thought of seeing the Empress up close for the first time. 
 
Together they wormed and squeezed their way through a forest of legs, all the way to the core of the crowd. At the center, a crescent moon-emblazoned platform held aloft a contingent of the Honour Guard of the royal household, always emotionless and vigilant. They were dressed in armour more ornate than that of the average soldier, with silver plates polished to shine and immaculate plumes of cool colours. The crowd of ponies attracted more and more members until it developed into an overflowing throng of anticipating souls, all happy at their chance to see their ruler demonstrating such splendid feats of magic. The little lavender unicorn, however, was not happy. Her small stature prevented her from seeing over the adults in front of her. These were definitely not the front-row seats Orion promised.
 
Frustrated, she looked for gaps in which she could squeeze past audience members. Slipping away from Orion, she squirmed through the crowd, drawing annoyed glances from those who she pushed past. At last she found a suitable position to watch near the front of the crowd. By now, she could barely contain her excitement. However, Orion’s panicked calls for her drifted through the hum of discussion almost made her turn back to go to him. Until the Honour Guard blew on the trumpets.
 
At the fanfare, a hush fell onto the crowd. All eyes turned to the platform. Anticipation froze the spectators in place as if they had all suddenly been turned to ice. In the silence, a regal pony ascended the platform from the rear. Sporting a horn and a pair of large wings, she was unlike anything Twilight had ever seen. She was larger than life and too beautiful to be real. Twilight could only dream about having such a physique. Even Moondancer would have envied the Empress, and Moondancer was the prettiest filly Twilight had ever met. But no one would ever call the Empress ‘pretty’. ‘Beautiful’ seemed to fit better, along with ‘unearthly’ and ‘imposing’. Her face was so fine-boned and sharp-edged that Twilight couldn't shake the feeling that her touch would cut. Something deep in Twilight's soul told her this was a mare to be admired from a distance.
 
She had a coat that shimmered like polished obsidian, and a mane of deep violet ether. It was filled with the night sky – an infinite myriad of stars and constellations that floated about freely; the tresses danced as pure magic. Twilight was captivated by it, her pupils growing in wonder. The mare wore polished silver armour that gleamed in the moonlight. Her catlike eyes should have been terrifying in that exotic face, but their soft teal glow was somehow almost hypnotic.
 
Everypony bowed, as this was the immortal Empress of Equestria, Nightmare Moon, and respect for her was due. They were entranced; awed by her presence. “Rise, my subjects,” she commanded, her voice seemingly too low to reach beyond the front few rows, but it rippled and echoed clearly to every corner of the square.
 
Her horn sparkled with an aura of magic. The outline of energy grew more vibrant and shifted into a translucent sheen that covered the horn. As it grew more and more opaque, the sky reacted to Nightmare Moon’s will. The moon skimmed across the sky and dipped below the horizon. Then, she spread her wings and launched herself into the air, flapping higher and higher. The moon again rose from the horizon, coming from the same place in which it set, but this time it was shrouded in darkness with a light like fire dancing on its periphery. The unearthly contrast of pitch black and light fascinated Twilight; setting her imagination racing with ideas and fantasies of the image. The farther the Empress climbed in the air, the more the transformed moon rose. This continued, until at last the orb reached its zenith in the sky. For added effect, a flash of light erupted from the moon as it completed its ascent, and Nightmare Moon touched gracefully back down onto the platform. She smiled down at her subjects with a knowing look in her eyes.
 
A simultaneous gasp rippled through the crowd and, once their ruler was finished, a cheer. The eclipse would last for the rest of the night, the centrepiece of the festival until Nightmare Moon lowered it for the evening. Twilight didn't make a sound; instead, she stood agape in awe of the Empress while her mind struggled to comprehend what she had just experienced. It fascinated and enthralled her. The Empress bent reality to her will, but while doing so she made it an art form. This wasn’t the mundane force she saw used every night to lift things. It was… huge and terrifying and wondrous. The few scraps she could remember having read about magic suddenly snapped into focus in her mind like a puzzle assembling itself. Magic was both an extension of the self and an integral part of the world. Spells are not discrete objects, like a book on a shelf, but rather a process of projecting a pony’s will onto the world, in the same way that writing is the process of recording thought on paper. The words came into her head unbidden, as if she had pulled an epiphany straight out of the writings of Aristrotle. Twilight grinned in pride at the conclusion,  silently thanking Orion for leaving his philosophy books around for her to pick up.
 
The Empress of Equestria struck the ground with a hoof, the sound echoing throughout the square, cutting through the jubilant voices. With silence and the undivided attention of all ponies, she gave a small speech commemorating the occasion and thanking them for their loyalty and admiration. It was a grandiose and eloquent benediction. The pitch black alicorn had such confidence that Twilight could not help but admire her. After this was finished, the Empress left the platform and the mob began to disperse. As the crowd thinned, Orion skidded around a knot of stragglers and spotted her at the same moment she saw him. His expression of relief lasted only a moment, though, before it collapsed into a stern glare. Coming from a colt his age, it would have usually looked out of place, but this earth pony was much more mature than Twilight was, and he pulled it off with the desirable effect.
 
“I’m sorry,” Twilight shrunk back, ears drooping in shame. “I just wanted to see her.”
 
“It’s all right, Twilight. I’m not angry. I was just worried you had got lost.” he smiled reassuringly at her.
 
Twilight simply nodded, lowering her head slightly. She felt him touch his neck to hers in an embrace. A smile graced her lips as she leaned into him.
 
“Thanks for bringing me here, Orion,” she said.
 
“Don’t mention it,” the earth pony replied, his smiling face soon dropping back into its usual passive mask. “We should go. We’re out in the open, and that means that we’re more likely to get cau–”
 
“Twilight Sparkle!”
 
The two foals whirled around to face the source of the shout. There, walking determinedly towards them was Apple Orchid. Behind her was a group of colts and fillies of all ages, looking inquisitively at the spectacle that was unfolding. The mare marched up to the pair, looking first at Orion, then to Twilight. She pierced the young unicorn with a frown only an authority figure like the teacher that she was could give to a foal.
 
“What’re you doin’ here?” she asked rhetorically. “Didn’t Loch Mare ground you for the destruction of Home property?”
 
The little filly was about to debate the latter question, until Orion stepped forward.
 
“I brought her here, ma’am. I knew she was grounded, though, and I accept the full blame for the situation.”
 
Shaking her head, the chaperone rejected his chivalrous offer: “That’ll be for Miss Loch to decide. But if it were up to me, ah’d ground your sorry flank for a couple o’ weeks! Now stay by my side, I don’t want to take my eyes of you two.
 
The two young ponies sidled up next to Apple Orchid remorsefully, but as the group began their walk back to the orphanage, Twilight’s head was ablaze in thought. The evening had been spectacular. First, that Willow pony’s display of mysticism had impressed her greatly, but the sheer beauty and grace of the Empress’ sorcerous performance had opened up a world of new possibilities for the filly. She craved the Home’s library now; she needed to understand everything about what she just witnessed. She wouldn’t care if she was grounded for a month. Twilight had plenty of reading to catch up on.
 
============

Questions, Comments, Concerns and Criticisms are welcome!

Written by Municipal Engines, Assisted and Edited by LordOfTheWrongs
> Prospects
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chapter Three: 
Prospects


The first rays of the Bright Moon streaming in through the window alerted Twilight Sparkle that she had been reading all night long. Even she usually fell asleep at some point during a marathon study session, but every time she closed her eyes, the Eclipse flared in its full radiance once more behind her eyelids. Who could possibly sleep when the world held such glory? She was binging, she knew it, and she didn’t care. What else was she supposed to do?

As if brought on by her realising the time, a wide yawn came close to dislocating Twilight’s jaw. Okay, maybe I should sleep after all. The little unicorn closed her book and finally sallied forth from the tottering tome towers of her personal palace of parchment to undertake the epic journey across the barren Hardwood Plains to the inviting, softly rolling hills of Featherdown.

Squirming into the warmth of her bed, Twilight looked over at Orion, who was still asleep and snoring lightly. He wouldn’t be awake for another hour or so. Even then, he would have little to do. This was their second week of being grounded together, and it had taken a mighty bit of convincing on Twilight’s part to get Miss Loch to reconsider separating them. Twilight smiled softly in the darkness as she mused at how accustomed she had grown to having a roommate – to having a friend. Soon, her higher-pitched snores were playing counterpoint to Orion’s.

The unicorn awoke from a dreamless sleep sometime in the noon, judging from the position of the moon in the night sky. Yawning, she stretched her legs and got out of bed. Orion looked up from the essay he was writing at the desk across from Twilight’s. Unlike Twilight, the white colt focused his serious mind on his schoolwork as though every assignment were a matter of life and death. Twilight mostly just read through class time, and could still ace the exams half-asleep – a fact that never failed to draw the ire of her classmates. The teachers who rotated through the foster home’s school room had long since stopped trying to catch her out for not paying attention, since she always got the right answer anyway once they repeated the question.

“Good afternoon, sleepy head,” her roommate offered as he turned back to his work.

“Morning, Orion,” Twilight murmured the reply. “Or whatever it is now.”

She wobbled over to the mirror that hung on the wall just below the star chart, scrubbing the sleep out of her eyes with a hoof while the grogginess faded.  Staring at a hairbrush that sat on the table, the filly began to reach out and slip her hoof through the brush’s ring to pick it up, stopped. She had an idea. Putting her hoof back down, she bent her head and pointed her small horn at the brush.

Twilight focused on the brush, trying to lift it through sheer force of will. Nothing. She concentrated harder, clenching her teeth, staring at it until her eyes burned, her neck straining as if that would produce better results. Still nothing. Then, like her telescope suddenly bringing the moon into focus, she found it: an odd sort of “empty space” in her thoughts, within which she could feel the shape of the brush when she concentrated on it. There was a strange tension in her head, like a muscle she hadn’t even known was there. She mentally pressed against it, and a faint purple aura sprung up around her horn, matched by an even dimmer glow around the brush. It twitched into the air, fell again, then rose and steadied.


I did it! I’m using magic! I’m–


Doing the same thing every other unicorn in the world does every single night, the cynic of her subconscious quipped. Woohoo.

After a few seconds of practice, she managed to run the brush through her mane, flattening the bed-head that had built up in the past few hours. Somehow, it should have been more satisfying. She should have been showing off to Orion or running to show Miss Loch what she could do. But really, why would they care? It just wasn’t anything special. It was...

An image came to life in her mind; the eclipse burning in the sky, crowned with fire and glory.


...normal, she concluded dispassionately.

When she returned to the room after having attended to all of the pressing needs of hygiene, Twilight trotted back over to her cushion and sat down. The filly searched her pillars of knowledge until she found The Biology of Pony Magic, carefully exhumed it from the stack, and flipped through until she found the page with the cross-section of a unicorn’s head.


The horn is commonly mistaken for an extension of a unicorn’s brain. However, this is not the case. Indeed, if this were so, there would be many more cases of unicorns who have lost their horns in unfortunate circumstances suffering severe repercussions from the loss of so much neural tissue. Rather, the horn is another organ entirely.


A unicorn’s horn is a complex and varied organ whose precise characteristics vary by individual, but its general structure consists of three main layers (fig. 1). The outermost layer of the horn is a coating of keratin (A) secreted by a thin layer of epithelial tissue (B, see p.78). This material protects the horn against incidental damage. Beneath the outer coating is a hollow layer of magically conductive bone (C, see p.140) which serves as the horn’s primary structural component and permits the flow of magical energies from the corpus arcanum (D) within. The corpus arcanum consists of a softer tissue which, while osseous, is both highly porous and heavily permeated with nerve fibers. Were one to cut away a unicorn’s horn (fig. 2), a distinctive pattern of rings would be revealed, not unlike a cross-section of a tree trunk. This is where the magic happens, as it were.


The pores of the corpus arcanum channel magical energy from the ignis minorum (E), which resides at the proximal end of—

A loud rapping at the door tore Twilight’s attention away from the text. Sighing in irritation, she stood back up and marched reluctantly towards the door. She tugged open the door to admit the chocolate-coloured matron of the foster home, Loch Mare.

“Good afternoon, Twilight,” she said, crowding into the already cramped apartment. “I’m glad to see that you’re still making the most of your punishment,” she indicated the piles of books scattered about the room.

“Oh, I am Miss Loch; magic is fascinating,” the filly nodded in keen affirmation.

“Of course,” Miss Loch smiled indulgently. “From what Orion told me earlier tonight, you found it so fascinating that you stayed up to the early hours of the morning studying.”

The little purple unicorn blushed and looked at the ground with her ears folded, grinning awkwardly at the subtle accusatory tone Miss Loch had used. “Heh, yeah… I do kinda get a bit carried away at times.”

Still smiling, the brown mare raised her brow. “Indeed you do. I hope this sort of thing won’t happen too often – it’s an unhealthy lifestyle.”

“Yes miss, it won’t happen again,” Twilight mumbled, shooting a betrayed glare at the oblivious Orion. Tattle-tale.

“Well that’s good,” the mare closed the door behind her as she moved deeper into Twilight’s abode. “Now, about that little thing you’ve been pestering me for over the past week...”

All Twilight’s annoyance at the interruption and scolding instantly evaporated. Even Orion peered over the edge of his textbook, investing attention into the matron’s words. The Imperial Academy for Gifted Unicorns! It took a supreme level of restraint from Twilight to keep from erupting in squealing glee. Ever since reading about it in a biography of the Great Hoofdini, Twilight had been fascinated with the greatest of all unicorn-centric schools in Equestria (or, as some claimed, the entire world). She had placed it to the forefront of her studying for several nights. It had not been long until the filly had begged Miss Loch to put her up for a placement in the school. She had taken a test for it only several nights before.Twilight knew that if she had any chance at the Imperial Academy, she would need not only a pass, but a high enough mark to achieve the scholarship to attend.

“How did I do?” she blurted. “What mark did I get? Did they like me? Did they say whether I was the kind of pupil they were looking for? Did I pass?”

Taken aback by the sudden outburst, Loch Mare flinched. “Twilight, calm down,” she said, staring down at the filly, who was slowly going an even darker hue of purple. “And please take a breath.”

Twilight took a gulp of air, and was just about to continue her interrogation when Miss Loch put up a pre-emptive, silencing hoof. The mare cleared her throat before replying.
“Twilight, please remember that whatever mark you get, you did your best in that theory test.”

“Please, Miss Loch,” Twilight groaned. “Show me the results.”

“Very well, since you insist,” the mare huffed.

Miss Loch floated the envelope out from behind her and unsealed the flap while Twilight restrained the urge to bounce up and try to catch the first glimpse of its contents. The letter slid out of the envelope and unfolded. Three sets of eyes tracked to the red ink in the upper corner.

“An A-plus!” she cried, springing up and hopping joyfully around the room. “An A-plus! An A-plus!” She didn’t notice Loch Mare’s shocked double take or the waver in her normally rock-solid telekinesis.

“Congratulations, Twi!” Orion grinned. “You passed.”

“I did, didn’t I?” the filly bounced higher than ever. “I passed! I passed! I’m going to the Academy! This is the best night ever!”

The old mare, meanwhile, had been reading the letter more deeply. “Twilight, there’s something else.”

The solemn voice of Miss Loch brought Twilight to an abrupt halt right in front of the mare. She looked up with wide, eager eyes and leaned forward in anticipation. Something else? The possibility of more wonderful things from a simple piece of paper excited her. Oh, I know; they’re gonna give me a scholarship! And they’re gonna beg for me to talk with the head of the Academy. They’ll want me to meet the Empress, I know it!

“What is it? What is it?!” she asked, her voice pitched to explode into shrieks of joy again.

“Manners, young lady,” the matron eyed her sternly, drawing a penitent look from Twilight. Loch turned her eyes to the paper and pointed a hoof at the red markings at the bottom. “There’s one more thing you will have to do before you’re accepted.”

Twilight’s heart sunk. Her elated mood died in the instant Miss Loch uttered those words. 

First disappointment welled up within her, but she made a conscious effort to replace it with frustration.

“What do I have to do, Miss Loch?” she asked with trepidation.

“The Academy has invited you back for an entrance exam.”

“But I just did one!” the filly protested.

“That was just the preliminary theory test, Twilight. This is the practical exam,” the mare sounded almost apologetic. “One is designed to test your knowledge and the other is designed to test your magical capabilities.”

Twilight’s good mood now was completely gone. She had jumped through hoops for the Academy; that theory exam was two hours long and very hard. Now they want me to do another exam? She felt a pout coming on.

“Two exams before I even get considered for a spot!” the lavender pony snorted, blowing a gust of angry air out of her nostrils. “That’s not fair!”

“It is a very prestigious school, Twilight,” Miss Loch leaned down to meet with the filly at eye level, giving her an encouraging smile. “All the applicants have to go through this. Unicorns from all over the world come and they fight tooth and hoof for a placement.”

Seeing that this only worsened Twilight’s disposition, the elder unicorn quickly changed her approach: “Besides, you might get in regardless of how well you perform at the practical. You saw how good those test results were; they would want a smart young mare like you regardless of power, right?”

“I… guess so.”

“Please don’t get worked up over it, Twilight.” Loch gave the filly a quick hug. “It’s a couple of nights from now. I’m sure that’s plenty of time to prepare.”

“Yeah…”

The mare sighed and began to walk towards the door. “I have to go and work now. Please think about it. And be positive, okay?”

Twilight barely mumbled a response as the matron left, closing the door behind her. Sinking to the floor, sitting dejectedly, she felt a hoof on her shoulder. Turning to her side, she found Orion looking down at her, his face plastered with concern. It was a look that almost made her burst into frustrated tears.

“Oh, Orion, I can’t do it!” she cried.

“What do you mean, Twi?” the white colt furrowed his brow.

“This practical exam! I’m gonna fail it, I just know it,” she sniffed. “I have to focus so much when lifting something as stupid as a brush. It’s an effort to do that sort of stuff, and they’ll probably want me to do some spell that only destined mages can do!”

“What about what Miss Loch said?”

“What, that I might get in on the theory alone?” she practically growled the answer, drawing a weak nod from Orion. “She also said that it’s a ‘very prestigious’ school. They’ll only want ponies with smarts and skills, and I’m nowhere near as powerful as they’ll want me to be!”

“Twilight, look at me.”

He planted his hooves firmly on her shoulders and turned her to face him. She reluctantly met his eyes, which were filled with an unyielding wisdom that would not usually belong in a colt of his age. In his stern but sympathetic gaze, Twilight felt safe; protected from the troubles of the world.

“You’re smart, so very smart. Smarter than me even – I can tell that much. But you’re still young and you can be a real fool sometimes,” Orion managed a small smirk and continued in his soft voice. “You got to be confident in yourself, and in your abilities. I’ve been living with you for over half a year now, and I’ve seen what you can do if you put your mind to it. You can overcome any obstacle if you put your mind to it. Trust me on this, Twi. Now say it: ‘I can do this’.”

“I… can do this,” she murmured.

Orion raised his voice only slightly. “Louder.”

“I can do this.”

“Louder!”

“I can do this!” she declared, jumping up, beaming. “I can do this.”

The blue-maned colt nodded. “You have a couple of nights till the exam. What are you going to do until then?”

“Practice!” she cried.

“Good,” Orion beamed. “You’re going to get through it, Twilight. I mean, what’s the worst that can happen?”

============


Dear Glitter,


I’m afraid I’ve made a terrible miscalculation, and now I must call upon you to ensure that all our hopes do not go awry.


I indulged Sparks in her desire to apply to the Academy, and while I knew she was intelligent, her performance in the preliminary was (no pun intended) stellar. She is in danger of not only being accepted, but achieving a scholarship as well! As much as it pains me to do this to her, you must ensure that she fails in the practical. And as much as it pains me to ask it of you, this must be done even at the risk of exposure. You know what is at stake.


Secondnight, 10:00, Rm. 501. At all costs.


The Dawn will come.


Your friend and comrade, Wake.

============

Basking in the noontime glow of her moon, the Empress strolled casually through the palace grounds. She often took these sorts of walks. Delegating a fair portion of government responsibility had allowed her an abundance of leisure time. Night-to-night affairs were handled by a parliament supervised by a council of loyal ministers. While they were all involved equally in the decision-making in theory, the Empress had a feeling that the head of the Imperial Overwatch had them all answering to him. This, of course, was something to be corrected at some point, but the results were sufficient to justify the means. She could leave that lay for a decade or so.

The Inquisitor – the aforementioned commander of what the public had dubbed ‘Blackcloaks’, and her closest advisor – had first come to her a very long time ago. His service to her was so long and flawless that he blurred into her memory, making it hard to pinpoint how long ago he actually arrived at her court. It almost felt as if he had been with her since the beginning. Nightmare Moon had no idea whether he was young or old, but she felt that by now at least a few bones in the pony’s body should be getting weaker, but he was as busy and tireless as ever. That should have unsettled her more than it did. He never even offered a name, saying that he had none and used only titles. The strange stallion had forsaken his name to be known as ‘The Inquisitor’ upon becoming the head of the Overwatch; symbolically fusing himself to the state by stripping his very identity and replacing it with a function. How long ago had that been? Decades, certainly. She couldn't even remember what the stallion's name had been. Even back then, he seemed curiously confident in front of the closest thing Equestria had to a living god.

Not that Nightmare Moon demanded grovelling reverence from her staff. All the bowing and scraping had gratified her for the first couple of decades, but it was terribly inefficient. The Empress of Equestria had more important things to do than scold her subjects merely for growing accustomed to her presence.  A gardener – Amber something-or-other, she noted – dipped her head gracefully as Nightmare passed, then turned back to her work. A few years ago, when she was presented for royal service, the self-same mare had bowed so hard she knocked herself silly on the floor of the throne room. Fear and awe had their place, but even the sweetest fruit grew monotonous without variety. The sense of familiarity was... comforting.

The alicorn looked up into the sky, as she so often did. A content smile came to her lips. Her country was prosperous under her watchful and firm rule, and despite a certain few restrictions, the populace was generally happy. The peace of the night was eternal, and the beauty of the dark, star-filled sky was constant. So she smiled, knowing that this all was just the way she wanted it to be, the way it should be. Then, without warning, the night’s peace shattered.
 
A deafening explosion swept the calm aside and a massive wave of colour rippled across the sky. Even without sensing the flow of the magic, Nightmare Moon could tell that the explosion originated from Cloudsdale. I know what that is, she thought. Some pegasus has performed a sonic rainboom! It had been three centuries since she had last heard of anypony performing such a stunt.

Hard on the heels of the blast, another surge of magical energy washed over the Empress. It was raw and powerful and completely out of control; a magical presence unlike anything she had ever known before. Certainly no normal pony could have produced that? Her deepest fears immediately sprang to mind, before Nightmare Moon buried them. This was a new aura, with a different ‘flavour’ from that of her ancient nemesis. Powerful, but not as powerful as her own magic. A unicorn after all, then, but one more capable than any mage she had ever encountered. As she rationalised her worries away, a voice called to her in her mind.

‘Your Majesty,’ came the silky sound of the Inquisitor’s speech. ‘I know you felt that too.’


‘Yes, Inquisitor, I did. It is from the academic wing. I will meet you there.’


She was only a heartbeat away. The obsidian-black pony transformed into an indigo cloud and streamed toward the Imperial Academy for Gifted Unicorns with the speed of the wind itself. The Inquisitor, in his usual inscrutable way, was already waiting for her there. He wore his usual uniform and goggles, but he stared up at the Laboratory Tower with an expression of shock she had never seen on his normally impassive face. A large, fairly innocent-looking dragon’s head poked out through a fresh hole in the roof. Flashes of light came within and arcs of energy shot out from the windows and holes in the roof. The two magically-inclined ponies could feel the energy radiating from the Academy like some mysterious form of heat that was undetectable to most ponies. The hair on their bodies stood on end at the energies gushing from the building.

Narrowing her eyes, Nightmare launched into a sprint, racing into the maelstrom of untamed magic. She burst through the entrance and plunged down the halls of the Academy, rounding corners at full speed and rocketing up stairwells in full flight. She dared not teleport into the room without a clearer idea of what she would find there.

When she rounded the last corner, she slowed down cautiously. A set of doors at the end of the hall hung open, spilling brilliant light and bolts of arcane energy into the hallway. The alicorn crept to the doorway and peeked around the corner, her horn glowing with a prepared shielding spell. It was a lecture hall, half occupied by the dragon she had seen from outside. A humming aura of purple energy held four ponies and their belongings suspended in the air, and another surrounded a potted fern. The centre of the chaos, though, was only a small, purple unicorn filly.

Such ability at such a young age was unheard of. This unicorn, Nightmare Moon contemplated, could be a valuable asset or a dangerous enemy. Whether she would be one or the other would depend on how she was raised, and how she learned to control this raw power inside of her. The Empress smiled slyly. After a few moments of thought, she knew exactly what to do with the filly. But first things first, she needed to gain control of the situation.

Stepping fully into the room, Nightmare Moon strode through the waves of energy, parting them past her like the tide around a cliff. She reached out and touched the wild pony’s shoulder with a hoof. The filly turned her head around and stared with shining white eyes like burning windows into infinity as the pure, untamed magic swirling in her head sought any means of escape. Time stretched into an eternal instant for the Empress and the foal. She could feel the filly, tiny, helpless before the raging flood of magic. Nightmare had to be careful how she handled this. She pressed her mighty will against the filly’s, gently but firmly shoring up the unicorn’s control while being careful not to simply crush her mind. After a few subjective seconds, the filly realised what she was doing and leaned against the Empress’s support as she began to close off the flow of power. Time resumed its usual course and Nightmare Moon smiled encouragingly at the filly, the little unicorn returning a look of terrified embarrassment as the blinding light faded from behind her eyes. With a flash, the aura vanished from around her and the pony dropped to the ground. Three more flashes around the room revealed a dazzled and petrified group of ponies returning to normal – one in much more of a daze from her brief stint as a plant – and an oblivious baby dragon, now sucking its own tail.
 
“What is your name?” she asked, a firmer and more formal tone slipping back into place.

“I… I’m so sorry. I didn’t–”

“What is your name?” the Empress repeated, softer in tone this time.

“Twilight Sparkle, Your Majesty,” she answered sheepishly, looking down at the floor.

Twilight? That’s not a word I should be hearing. The lack of a day had banished words like ‘dawn’, ‘dusk’ and ‘twilight’ from the lexicon. "Day" was a word only used by the more learned or world-aware of ponies who realised that the rest of the planet had a sun and used the term to describe a twenty-four hour period. It was considered fashionable by the intelligentsia to use the word in everyday conversation, though most others had adopted "night" in its stead. This filly's parents must have been familiar with the day, or they must have come from the sun-touched lands beyond Equestria. Her interest piqued, Nightmare Moon slowly crouched to the unicorn’s level.

“Who are your parents, Miss Sparkle?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” Twilight winced slightly. “I don’t have any.”

An orphan then; perhaps her parents named her, or others did. No matter, it’s a mystery that can be resolved at a later time. She stood back up and smiled knowingly.

“I don’t think I’ve ever come across a unicorn with your raw abilities before,” she said in a regal voice. “It is a very special gift that you have, but one that must be controlled and tamed if you are to use it properly.”

The young pony looked up at the Empress with a confused expression plastered across her face and let out an equally confused “huh?” The innocent little filly drew shocked looks from the other adult ponies in the room, surprised by what they saw as callousness in front of the ruler of Equestria.

“Twilight Sparkle, I want you to study as my personal protégée here at the Academy,” Nightmare said.

Twilight was speechless. Her eyes were wide as she took in what the Empress had said. She looked over at the unicorn mare to the side, whose face was still locked in an expression of horror as she stared at Twilight Sparkle. Turning back to the starry-haired alicorn, the filly hastily nodded with barely contained excitement.

“Excellent, now wait outside while I talk to your guardian,” Nightmare Moon said. When the filly left, the Empress turned to the four adjudicators at the back of the room. “You may all leave. Your work here is done.”

They sprinted for the door, very visibly relieved at their escape. Walking up to the other pony left in the room, Nightmare Moon looked down at the mare. She cleared her throat.

“You are the guardian of Twilight Sparkle, correct?” she said.

The unicorn shook herself out of her shock and quickly bowed low before the Empress. “Yes, Your Majesty, my name is Loch Mare and I’m the head of a foster home at the edge of the city.”

“Good. I intend to take Twilight to live with me at the palace. Make the arrangements.”

“The palace?! Um, is that really necessary?” Loch Mare answered in a timid voice.

Nightmare Moon lost some of her reserved demeanour at this; “Do you question my orders?”

“N-no Your Majesty!” the mare blurted in a rush and bowed her head a little lower.

“Consider it an official Royal Edict,” she boomed, then slightly softened her tone. “Besides, where do you think Twilight would prefer to live, at your orphanage or at the Imperial Palace?”

“Well, she–”

This unicorn was either slow or a stickler for procedure, and it was beginning to grate the alicorn. “If you like, you can think of this as an adoption,” the Empress said in a faux-cheerful tone before letting her smile drop. “One in which you have no say.”

“Of course,” the mare bit her lip.

“Oh come now, I am sure that you can visit from time to time, if Twilight wants you,” she said, turning away and walking towards the exit. “And if I allow it.”
 
The blasted mare made one last effort to assert some measure of authority. “We’ll need some time to prepare the paperwork and pack her things...” she offered carefully.
 
Nightmare Moon paused, suppressing a flash of anger from colouring her tone. “I will send the Lord Commander of the Overwatch to collect her tomorrow at noon,” she said flatly without looking back.
 
“The Overwatch...” the matron breathed, stark terror in her voice.
 
“See that all goes smoothly.”

She strode out with a maliciously pleased smile. Waiting, in a happily jittery state, was the little purple unicorn filly. She had been staring at her own flank until Nightmare Moon came out of the room. Arching an eyebrow, the Empress looked at the spot that had occupied so much of Twilight’s attention. It was her cutie mark, a large six-pointed star – the same pink as the streak in her mane – circled by several smaller, white stars.

“That’s new, I take it?” she asked.

“Oh yes, it is!” Twilight replied enthusiastically, before furrowing her brow. “What does it mean though?”

“Given your little display this morning, I would guess that it represents the spark of magic,” the Empress rubbed her chin thoughtfully. “And that’s magic in general, not a specific kind. Your talent is extremely rare.”

“Really?”

“It is. That is why I have decided to help you nurture it.”

“Thank you Your Majesty,” the filly smiled sweetly.

“Don’t mention it,” she smiled back and walked away.

“Yes Your Majesty!” the excited filly replied, dashing off into the ruined room.

As she made for the exit, Nightmare Moon thought about the future and what it held for her and little Twilight Sparkle. She had never had an apprentice before, but she felt that she could handle it. Twilight would be an excellent asset when she came of age. What’s more, the filly seemed to actually like Nightmare, in an awestruck sort of way. Very rarely did the Empress get to experience a foal’s admiration. All in all, the immortal pony ruler of Equestria felt that this would be the beginning of something new and exciting for both herself and Twilight.

============

Dear Wake,


I have no idea what happened! I enchanted the test item myself, and our mutual acquaintance double-checked the work, and you know how strong he is. Sparks just overwhelmed the counterspell like it wasn't there! Why didn't you warn me she was that powerful? What is she? Actually, don't answer that. In fact, don't reply to this letter. Use Overcast if you need to contact me.


I don't know what to do now. Keep your head down, await instructions from S. I will do the same.


The Dawn will come... eventually.


Your friend and comrade, Glitter.

============

Questions, Comments, Concerns and Criticisms are welcome!

Written by Municipal Engines, Assisted and Edited by LordOfTheWrongs

> Goodbyes and Hellos
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chapter Four: 
Goodbyes and Hellos

“Hey Twilight, is it true?”

Twilight stopped cramming her books and clothes into the case and turned to the cream unicorn. She sighed and decided to indulge the filly.

“That depends on what you’re referring to, Moondancer,” Twilight replied without looking up, as if she hadn’t answered the same question at least a dozen times already.

“Um, that you’re gonna be a princess?” her voice simmered with excitement. “I mean, if the Empress adopts you—”

Twilight put a hoof up to pre-empt the flow of words. “Moondancer, this isn’t an adoption. I’m studying under her and living at the palace while I do it.”

“Oh, really?” Moondancer looked down her crimson swirl of a mane falling over one of her eyes. “Sorry I jumped to conclusions.”

“It’s all right,” Twilight said. You’d almost think it was her being not-adopted instead of me! “I’m actually really excited about the Empress teaching me. Imagine it; she’ll be showing me all her tricks and skills! Oh, I bet she’ll let me see her move the moon!” The purple unicorn bit her lip, stopping herself from getting lost in her excitement. Focus on packing, Twilight. “Anyway, could you just tell everypony else that I’m not a princess, and I’m not being adopted by the Empress?”

“Yeah, yeah. You have to admit, though, that it would’ve been kind of cool if you were going to be a princess. I mean, that’d mean I’d know a member of the royal family! And you’d be that royal family member and…”

“Uh huh,” Twilight raised an eyebrow and sighed to herself as she tuned out Moondancer’s gushing over the living fantasy that was royalty. Instead she concentrated on folding her things into the bags.

The ponies at the orphanage had received the news of Twilight’s departure with varying reactions. If Twilight had simply been adopted by a normal Canterlot family, then she would have left with very little fanfare. However, the orphanage was a compact place and when Twilight let it slip where she was going, everypony knew – staff and foster foals alike. Most had been happy for her, telling the unicorn how lucky she was. Others had been perhaps feigning happiness; Twilight could hear some whispers of jealousy as she walked the building’s halls. Some particularly nasty things had been said by the older ponies to each other when they thought she couldn’t hear. Not that I have to care about that, she thought, a small smirk curling her lips. Not anymore.

Then there were those like Moondancer – with imaginations that blew everything completely out of proportion. She internally scoffed at Moondancer’s notions of fancy balls and being waited on horn and hoof. However, there was something quite spectacular about living under the Imperial Household. She suppressed a squeal of delight as she pictured the palace, the servants and, of course, the lessons with the Empress. What would she learn under the tutelage of a pony as powerful as Nightmare Moon? Twilight shuddered with a mix of excitement and awe as she was once again drawn back to the moment of the eclipse. The Empress, silhouetted against the corona, terrible in her power and beauty. Twilight blinked away the image, but the Empress remained. The testing room at the Academy – she turned, looking up into eyes as cold and vast as the depths of space. I don’t think I’ve ever come across a unicorn with your raw abilities before, the Empress had said. What did that mean, “Ever”? In all the history of Equestria? Twilight Sparkle, the orphan bookworm, had more potential than Starswirl the Bearded, or Weathersky the Farmer, or even semi-mythical Marelin? How powerful was she, really?

Uneven hoofbeats behind her distracted Twilight from her thoughts. Moondancer was making for the door, skipping all the way.

“So yeah,” she said, cheerily oblivious to the fact that she had been ignored all throughout her monologue. “I hope you have a real good time at the palace. But don’t forget to visit us lowly commoners, ‘Your Highness’!”

Twilight humoured the Moondancer with a strained laugh until the door clicked shut. The lavender filly sighed and resumed her packing. She made a point to use magic to lift all of her belongings – practice makes perfect, as they say. Ever since the fateful morning before, Twilight felt as if there was a stream inside of her that had been recently cleaned and unblocked. Magic flowed freely and easily from her. It flowed so freely that sometimes she would open a door and almost tear it off its hinges. She really didn’t know her own strength.

After steadily filling her cases to the brim with accessories, books and what little clothing she had, Twilight stared at the telescope that sat in the centre of the window – in between both sides of the room. She couldn’t fit it in any container she had with her, and the unicorn did not trust herself with the task of dismantling it without breaking anything. She knew, intellectually, that the palace had whole observatories full of far better equipment. But she hadn’t used those telescopes to count the craters on the moon, or to watch Hackamore’s Comet progress across the sky evening after evening. Or to stare at the eclipse until her eyes ached, then trade off with—

The door opened and closed with barely a whisper. Twilight knew in an instant who had entered. She turned to greet a softly smiling Orion with a brief hug, pressing her neck to his.

“Do you need any help?” the white colt asked.

Twilight shook her head. “No, I’ve got this.” She focused on the cases, straining herself as she tried to lift them all at once. Having to divide her focus was more difficult than she thought, and she grunted under the strain. They hovered for several seconds before she had to let go, gasping from the effort. Potential or no, her magic didn’t seem very consistent. Perhaps it was less like a dam that had been opened and more like one that had been fixed up, and the operators closed and opened its floodgates at their leisure.

Orion chuckled. “It’s like weights, Twi; start with the lighter objects first and then work your way up. You’ll get better with time, I’m sure of it. Here, let me take a few.”

Once loaded up with Twilight’s baggage, the two deposited them down by the Home’s entrance and went back up to their room. The filly stared forlornly at what had once been her side of the room. Everything was gone, save the map and the star chart on the wall. Those were Orion’s now. The earth pony next to her motioned to the telescope at the window.

“I’ll help you take that apart for your trip,” he offered.

Twilight spun to face him, her mind abruptly made up. “No! You keep it.”

“Twilight, I can always get a new one if I want to,” Orion shook his head softly. “Please, you take the telescope. As a gift.”

“But the palace probably has loads of telescopes. I can’t take…”

“Please?” he smiled as he bent down to her level. “We built this thing together, and I want you to keep it. You know, as a memento of the time we spent together in this place. And mine will be your maps.”

The filly bit her lip. “Okay then,” she whispered. “I’ll take it with me.”

He nodded happily enough, but Twilight noticed his expression grow sombre as he turned to gaze at the telescope. He heaved a sigh as he stepped over to it. “Come and help me, then,” he called over to her. “I’ll need that fancy magic of yours for the fiddly bits.”

Together, they began to carefully dismantle their machine. Twilight dug its case out of the back of the wardrobe and dusted it off while Orion unscrewed the lenses. He directed her on which of the smaller pieces she needed to take apart with her magic, more than once wondering aloud how its creator expected anypony but a unicorn to assemble the thing. They both fell silent for a while as they went to work on the less delicate fittings of the tripod, then Orion suddenly spoke in a low, resigned tone.

“I guess she was right, then.”

Twilight stopped, looking at the earth pony in confusion. “Who was right?”

“The fortune teller back at the festival,” he replied. “She said we were going to be separated for a long time.”

“Oh,” Twilight’s shoulders slumped. “Yeah…”

“But it’s all right, Twi,” he gave her an assured smile. “Because we’re not really separated – I can write to you and you’re still in the same town. Besides, you’re going to have a great future at the palace, with the Empress. It’s all you’ve ever wanted, huh?”

“Yeah,” she returned his smile. “I guess it is.”

He gave her a quick hug. “And if you’re happy, I wouldn’t change it if I could.”

When the last piece was taken off, Orion folded up the tripod legs and laid them gently in the case. The lid snapped shut with an odd sense of finality, and Twilight followed the colt out of her room for the last time.

As the pair trotted downstairs once more, Twilight broke into a sudden gallop. My luggage is missing! Everything! For a moment she thought this was some final prank against the new “Princess”. Then the open door drew her eye and she spied Miss Loch waiting there, eyes locked on to the darkness beyond; the cloud-filled sky doing well in blotting out the Bright Moon’s light while she watched for the royal carriage that would take Twilight away. She glanced to Twilight as the two foals exited the building.

“I brought your things outside, Twilight,” she noted. “It’s best to not waste the Lord Captain’s time by popping back inside for them when your carriage arrives.”

“Thanks, Miss Loch.”

“Twilight, can I tell you something?” the mare asked after a long silence.

“Um, okay?” The filly shifted her weight nervously, not comfortable with her caretaker’s tense, brittle tone.

“If… if there’s any problem,” Miss Loch swallowed, clearing the way for a more fluent speaking. “If you’re feeling lonely, or sad, or in danger; come straight to me. Don’t go to the Empress, or anypony else in the palace. Come here – we can help you no matter what.”

“I... okay, Miss Loch,” Twilight said, hesitant with her words. “But the Empress will help me, I’m sure of it. I am her personal student, after all.”

“I know, Twilight, but I just want you to know we’ve always been here for you. And we always will.”

She leaned down to give Twilight a quick hug, which Twilight reciprocated. “I know you will, Miss Loch,” the unicorn foal murmured, before raising her voice to a chirpier tone. “Is there anything else you want me to do?”

“Be respectful to the Empress,” she warned with a hint of a crack in her voice, drawing back and giving Twilight a firm, worried look. “Don’t get on her bad side, and try to work hard. Don’t pester the staff or the guards. And…” Her tone dropped, grim and tight. “Stay away from anypony dressed in black.”

Twilight saw her guardian close her eyes and shudder at something in her own thoughts. The filly looked behind her to the windows of the building, seeing rows of ponies gathered at them, watching her. The sound of hooves beating on the cobblestone road and wheels trundling behind them turned Twilight’s attention away from the foster home.

The carriage was carved with intricate designs and varnished to make the woodwork glow in the moonlight. Silver and white gold could be seen on parts of the frame, placed just so for an aesthetic sense of grandeur. Of course, there were the tell-tale crescent moons etched into the carriage that told all who this vehicle belonged to far more than the precious metals adorning it. A strong pair of earth ponies, clad in matching armour – plates of silver overlaying what was likely a reinforcing layer of iron – pulled the carriage. A figure stepped out, his hooves making no sound as they met the cobbles.

In an instant, the ponies at the windows had disappeared and Miss Loch and Orion had stepped back. The white colt’s face was set with an intense mistrust whilst the mare’s was a mask of fear. The figure stepped into the light spilling from the doorway to reveal a tall unicorn stallion, dark grey like that of a corpse, with a mane the colour of char. He seemed on the thin side, though the folds of his voluminous black leather cloak could have concealed a good deal of muscle. A pair of tinted goggles rode high on his forehead, up against the base of his horn, giving the filly a good look at eyes so dark that the irises almost blended in with his pupils. Eyes so black and piercing they seemed to stare straight into her soul.

The pony smiled, revealing a neat row of teeth white enough that it seemed they should shine more than they did. A wry, almost boyish grin twisted his lips, but his eyes reminded her of the blank expression Orion got when he was holding something inside. The expression gave Twilight the unsettling feeling that she had tried to excuse bad behaviour with a lie so absurdly transparent that he would have to double her punishment, once he finished laughing at the idea that she thought he would actually believe it.

“I am here to accompany you to the palace,” he said, his voice unexpectedly silky and pleasant. It had a calming, almost sedative quality that set her at ease as immediately as his appearance had intimidated her.

What did I expect? the filly thought, almost giggling to herself. “I vant to suck your blahd!” Miss Loch had taught her not to “judge a book by its cover”, after all. She felt herself smiling back as the Lord-Captain of the Overwatch continued.

“Let me help you with your luggage.” A faint, black tint of magic formed around her bags as they were lifted off of the ground and slotted into their places in the carriage. The stallion then looked at her expectantly, standing aside to clear her way into the carriage.

“Just a moment, please, sir,” Twilight said sweetly.

She spun to Loch Mare and hugged her, snapping the pony out of her dread-filled petrification. The mare scooped Twilight up into a tighter hold. After a moment or two, she released the unicorn filly and smiled reassuringly at her, though what she was reassuring her of, Twilight was uncertain.

“Visit us soon,” she whispered.

“I will, don’t worry,” Twilight nodded.

The unicorn then sidled over to Orion and looked up at him. He smiled weakly as she pressed into him. He leaned down and rested his head on her withers.  After this silent embrace, the colt stepped back and forced his smile wider.

“Have a good time, Twilight,” he said. “I’ll miss you.”

“You can always come and visit me, right?” she asked.

“Sure, and I’ll write to you until then,” Orion replied less dolefully. “Goodbye!”

Twilight grinned and turned back to the waiting stallion, hopping up into the carriage with an excited squeal. As the vehicle began to move, she waved back toward the orphanage and called out goodbyes to the ponies she was leaving behind. Soon they were out of sight and she sat down, her eyes meeting the black-clad pony’s own impossibly dark ones. He was still smiling, although this was much smaller and much less lively than when they had been outside the orphanage. She was too excited to remain silent. It would be the first time she had seen the palace up close, and she felt like she would burst from the anticipation of beginning her new life there, in the presence of the Empress.

“What’s your name, sir?” she asked suddenly, unable to take the silence any longer.

“The Inquisitor,” the stallion replied simply.

“’The Inquisitor’?” the foal knitted her brows. “Don’t you have any other name? A proper name, or a family name even?”

“Not really,” he answered, casual and bored. “I have only this name.”

“Why?”

His pupils contracted as he stared harder at the foal. His pleasant smile morphed into a smirk and he arched an eyebrow, regarding her with an almost patronising look, as if she had amused him.

“Because I want it to be so, little girl,” he said ominously, before turning away and looking out of the window.

Despite his light-hearted tone, Twilight couldn’t help but shiver a little. She turned to stare out the other window, electing not to bother him anymore. The city of Canterlot rolled by in a blur of ponies and buildings. The afternoon moon slowly broke through the clouds while long, silent ride gradually dulled excitement into boredom. She sighed and stared out aimlessly into the shapes and colours that came and went, trapped in the slowly rolling limbo between her past and her future.

============

The carriage rounded one final curve, and the Imperial Palace finally rolled into sight. Twilight couldn’t believe her eyes! She had seen the palace before, but as most of her life was spent on the other side of the plateau-bound city, it was never more than a cluster of tower-tops in the distance. She had always meant to go on a tour of the castle at some point in her life, but either never had the chance to, or always kept putting it off until later. Now, she was not only going to see the centuries-old palace, but to live there too.

It hung almost daintily off of the side of the mountain. Just to its side, from further up, a waterfall cascaded down the cliff face into a lily-filled pool that stretched to form a moat between the palace and the rest of the city. These waters tumbled off of the mountain into the valley below, the spray casting pale rainbows under the Bright Moon. Twisting, dark silver spires pierced the sky – lances with glittering emblems of stars and moons at their tips. Lavender marble and violet tiles had been sculpted into domes and pillars and towers; all amalgamated into a poetically chaotic yet stable complex. Curves and angles jostled each other for architectural dominance, but had seemed to settle their dispute amicably in the lassitude of old age.

“Quite something isn’t it?” A hint of disdain escaped with the words. “They say it’s beautiful, but I don’t really know about that. It’s far too… bulbous and… chaotic for my liking. Not what I would have designed at all; but those silver spoon-fed idiots never could stop competing long enough to do anything truly grand.”

The carriage stopped when it came to the courtyard and the doors were opened for them by servants. The Inquisitor was the first to step out. When he did so, the attendants stiffened and bowed low before him. Twilight followed, staring up in wonder at the opulent interior of the castle. Its courtyard was symmetrical and filled with flowers that complimented the colours of the palace – white roses, lavenders, violets and chrysanthemum. Once again, her attention was captured by the Inquisitor’s smooth voice.

“Take this luggage up to the royal apartments,” he ordered. The servants bobbed their acknowledgement and rushed to obey.

They had hardly taken a step, though, when a marsh-green pegasus glided to a landing beside them. She wore a uniform almost identical to the Inquisitor’s, save the raised hood and goggles planted firmly over her eyes. The cloaked pony bowed low.

“Master,” she began tonelessly. “The Imperial Council will be in session shortly.”

“Thundersong, do you have anything to report?”

“I have found out that the Hierophant is going to introduce a new bill regarding grants and tax-cuts to proprietors of Way property,” she answered. “I also believe the Duke and his faction will support it.”

The Inquisitor muttered something under his breath before raising his voice. “Very good, Thundersong, you have done well.”

The black-dressed mare waited in her place expectantly. Smiling, the Inquisitor held out a hoof, upon which the pegasus pressed her forehead in what seemed to be a look of pure bliss. After lingering for a few moments, she broke away, bowing and uttering her thanks as she left them. The Inquisitor turned to Twilight and offered a thin smile. “I have business to attend to in court, so the servants will take you up to your room.”

The filly’s eyes lit up with curiosity. She had never seen the Imperial Court in action before. She tried to imagine the sight of so many intelligent nobles and clever politicians verbally fencing with one another, but she had nothing to go on but a few old woodcuts from over a century ago. “Oh, can I come? I mean, I’d really like to see the ponies there and it’d help me know my way around the place.”

“You’re too young to be getting mixed up at court, even if you’re the Empress’s personal…” his face seemed to brighten with an idea. “Actually, I think it would be good if I were to… if you were to get to know the court and its inhabitants a bit better.”

“Thank you, sir!” Twilight chirped.

The Inquisitor nodded and beckoned for her to follow him. He led the young unicorn through a pair of tall, heavy doors that opened into the reception hall. A huge marble staircase sprawled across half the room, richly clothed in red carpets and railed with polished wood that Twilight Sparkle didn’t even have a name for. The rest of the room was tiled in white and violet, the walls hung with elaborate banners. Sprinkled about the room, chatting pairs and small groups of ponies mingled, all dressed in elegant fashions that screamed ‘aristocrat’. While all breeds were represented, Twilight noticed a disproportionate number of unicorns among the Canterlot elite. Servants waited on them with trays of wine glasses; there was a constant flow of traffic to and from what the filly assumed were the kitchens. A small group of courtiers were the first to become aware of the Inquisitor’s arrival. Their chatter stopped and Twilight noticed the ponies hesitate, looking towards a well-dressed mare for guidance. The Inquisitor smirked as this unicorn peeled off from her clique and strode over to the pair.

“Ah, Inquisitor, I did not expect to see you return so soon,” she said, her tone light and playful. “The Council is just about to convene, although Her Holiness has decided not to attend.”

The unicorn was definitely stylish, not just in clothes but also in looks. Her curly, dark lavender tresses had been pulled up and curled behind her head into a cylindrical bun, with the forward-falling hairs brushed to either side of her horn. Her soft fuchsia form was mostly covered by an elegant silvery-white silk dress, trimmed with indigo. She wore silver bracelets and necklaces that all sported the symbol of the crescent moon, and her head was lightly topped with a delicate silver circlet.

“Hierophant. You’re looking elegant as ever,” the Inquisitor replied, lowering his head in an overly respectful nod, his voice laden with a generous amount of sarcasm. “I hope that you will reconsider your proposal for tonight’s Council session.”

“Not in any way, good sir,” the mare looked at Twilight, finally noticing the filly. “Who is this? Your illegitimate foal? Oh, Inquisitor, this is hardly a ‘bring-your-daughter-to-work-night’ kind of place!”

“This,” his tone sharpened, “Is Twilight Sparkle. Twilight, may I present Hierophant North Star. As the leader of the Enlightened Way’s uppermost council, she deals with all the superstitious nonsense that manages to gain precedent in this country.”

“Nonsense!” North Star countered, her eyes lingered on Twilight, as if her next words were for the filly, before snapping back to the Inquisitor. “The Cult Imperia deals with the matters of the Gods themselves! That is hardly nonsense.”

“You can say whatever lets you sleep at night, Hierophant,” the Inquisitor snipped. “But talk of gods is, to me, nonsense that does not belong in court.”

“Even if the court is that of the incarnate god-Empress herself?”

The Inquisitor smiled smugly and nodded. “Especially then.” Incensed, the Hierophant glared daggers at Twilight, who had tried to distance herself from the argument. Now finding herself the target of the priestess’s ire, the filly shrank back.

“And may I ask why you have brought a child into the palace, let alone to court?” she growled.

“Twilight Sparkle is to live here at the palace. She will be studying under the Empress as her personal student,” he answered with the cool grin of a cat which has cornered a mouse. “I thought it beneficial to her coming education to familiarise her with the palace’s business and its lovely inhabitants.”

North Star stepped back a pace, eyes wide in surprise, her cheeks reddening as her face worked through a flurry of emotions. She seemed nervous at first, then glared accusingly at the leather-clad stallion, before directing an ingratiating smile toward Twilight. She performed a graceful bow that took the filly by surprise.

“It is an honour to meet somepony who has been chosen to take a coveted position so close to Her Holiness,” the Hierophant breathed. “I envy your position, Twilight Sparkle. You must be especially gifted if you have caught the attention of She Who Stayed.”

Twilight blushed at the compliments, but her curiosity quickly overcame the nervousness that had been plaguing her. She had read little on the subjects of religion, largely sharing the Inquisitor’s opinion on ‘superstitious nonsense’. “She Who Stayed?”

North Star’s eyes lit up. “Oh, how terrible it is that you haven’t been educated in the Cult Imperia! Such a young mind as yourself should not go without knowing the truths of the world; ripe for some cynics–” She flicked a glare towards the Inquisitor. “–to corrupt. Allow me to enlighten you. You see, the Empress is an alicorn, and we all know how she is so enlightened and powerful to have attained such a form. But she is especially unique, as she – while all her kin left mortals behind – opted to remain to guide us on through our destinies, which is why she is worthy of our utmost–”

The stallion of the group quickly swerved in front of Twilight, much to the filly’s intellectual disappointment. He raised an eyebrow at the fuchsia mare.

“As much as I’d love to listen to one of your rambling sermons, my dear, I’m afraid that it’s time for Twilight to be escorted to the Empress,” he turned to the lavender unicorn. “Try not to give too much thought to the Hierophant’s ideas, Twilight. Though she may be high up in the Enlightened Way’s institutions, her little Empress-worshipping sect is not exactly what you would call mainstream.”

“We would be if you and Marshall Silverstar wouldn’t keep getting everypony to block my proposals for reform,” North Star snapped, obviously irritated by the interruption and hoping for a new argument.

But the Inquisitor had already whisked Twilight on her way through the hall, towards the stairs. He turned back and called to her.

“We’ll discuss this another time, Lady North Star! But until then, I’d think about choosing reforms that make much more sense!”

Twilight’s head spun from the rapid switches from friendly banter to bitter rebuke and back. For a moment, the grand hall and its courtiers reminded her of the playground back at the orphanage, but with all the bullies and queen bees hiding behind bland smiles. She made a mental note to read up on courtly behaviour and learn about the court’s rivalries, and soon.
They had barely made it to the top of the stairs when a large white unicorn intercepted them. He wore a tuxedo and a sash, decorated with several golden emblems and a family crest. His golden blond mane was tied back in a reserved, practical fashion that still gave off a look of sophistication and a thin moustache-less goatee of the similar blond hair sprouted neatly on his chin. He regarded the Inquisitor with disdainful, icy blue eyes.

“Inquisitor,” he muttered, nodding stiffly. This was returned with a sly smile. The stallion looked at Twilight. “Who is this?”

“Twilight Sparkle,” the Inquisitor was nonchalant in his reply; as if the question was trivial. “She is to be the Empress’s personal student.”

“Her what?” the blond stallion bit off, narrowing his eyes.

The Inquisitor huffed, seemingly bored. “Her Imperial Majesty has decided to take on this young filly to be her protégée in the academic and magical arts. Twilight I am sure you are curious to know who this is. May I present Grand Duke Blueblood the Ninth. Now, I am already late, ‘Your Grace’, and I won’t be made even more so by you.”

As the Inquisitor began to move, the Duke put a halting hoof on his shoulder abruptly. The black-cloaked stallion narrowed his eyes at Blueblood, giving him a look that sent chills down Twilight’s spine. The noblecolt quickly put his hoof down, but continued seemingly unabated.

“What family is she from?” he insisted. “Is it the Hoofenzollerns? Or the House of Gildhorn?”

“Neither. Twilight Sparkle is an orphan,” the Inquisitor replied, grinning while Blueblood’s eyes widened with incredulous shock. “Now that your curiosity is satisfied, I’d like to get a move on. We’ll discuss things later when council commences. Come Twilight.”

The ashen pale pony brushed past the silently seething Duke with the filly close in his wake. They left the hall, passing beneath the arches, with Blueblood stamping off to commune with fellow aristocrats. From the top of the stairs, Twilight could already see ripples of excited conversation radiating out through the crowd from Heirophant North Star and Duke Blueblood. As a mahogany door frame cut off her view, she silently hoped she hadn’t made too much of a stir.

============

High above, in a tower that seemed to jut impossibly far beyond the edge of the cliff, dim candlelight flickered in the personal study of the Empress. Polished beams and ornate trim of rich, dark wood shone with reflected light. A fire roared in the hearth, warming the dusty air. The only sound in the room was the contented, steady breathing of an alicorn, the crackle of firewood and the rustling of paper. It was just bright enough for the Empress to read the parchments and scrolls spread out in front of her. They were mostly reports of domestic and foreign affairs that were important enough for the monarch’s notice. But no matter their importance, they seemed inconsequential at the moment for Nightmare Moon. She was thinking more about the newest arrival to the palace. Servants had come in to her office earlier to inform the Empress that Twilight Sparkle had arrived at the palace. The Queen of the Night hoped that the Inquisitor had warmed up to the filly. She shifted uncomfortably in her cushion as she recalled her last conversation with the Inquisitor.


“She’s a danger,” the Inquisitor stated. “A pony running around with that kind of raw power is a threat.”


“Oh seriously, Inquisitor – she’s only a filly!” the Empress retorted.


“But she can grow to become a mare with deadly control over that power of hers.”

Nightmare Moon huffed. “This is why Twilight is to become my student. Her mind is young and ripe – full of potential. I can teach her the ideals and values we hold dear. She will be a useful ally when she matures.”


“I understand her value as a tool, but what if she was manipulated by the wrong ponies?” the Inquisitor remained adamant. “We cannot afford that risk.”


“What would you have me do?”


“A quiet execution will permanently remove her as a danger,” the leather-clad pony answered. His words had no emotion to them.


The Queen of the Night froze and glared at the unfazed Inquisitor with an icy fire in her eyes. “I will not condone the murder of foals, Inquisitor!” She stamped her hoof, punctuating her disgust. “Do you understand?”


The Inquisitor bowed his head courteously. “It was merely a thought, Your Majesty. I apologise.”



Nightmare Moon continued walking, looking away from the stallion. “Twilight Sparkle will be my student. That is my final word,” she rumbled. “And you will treat her with the utmost care. Do you understand? Should she suffer an ‘unfortunate accident’, her fate will be yours.”


The Inquisitor closed his eyes and nodded graciously. “I understand perfectly, Your Majesty.”

A knock at the door wrenched Nightmare Moon from her memories. She flicked her eyes towards the origin of the sound, having a fairly certain guess as to who it was. A smile grew on her face, anticipating the meeting to come. “Come in,” she called, trying to not sound too forceful.

The ornately carved and inlaid doors opened, and The Inquisitor stepped in, followed by her new student, Twilight Sparkle. The Inquisitor was smirking – his most common expression. He was, in a way, quite boyish and easy-going. Even his mane, a smooth black and grey wave, seemed to have been lazily combed, yet fell back perfectly over the nape of his neck. His tail was also a handsome product of such apparently indifferent caretaking. From a distance, he seemed quite a catch for any young mare, but prolonged exposure to him quickly told a different story. He nodded courteously and trotted up to the Empress, leaning down to her ear.

“I’m quite sure that the Council knows about your new student,” he whispered, his hot breath tickling her ear. “I was unfortunately cornered by several of our court’s illustrious members and I had to tell them who Twilight was.”

“Who did you speak to?” the Empress groaned. She hadn’t had time to prepare for the filly’s proper introduction to court. Doubtlessly her new student would be a subject brought up by at least one of the Councillors.

“Hierophant North Star and Duke Blueblood.”

She groaned again, louder this time. “What did you tell the Duke?”

“Only that our little orphan was to be your personal pupil,” the Inquisitor replied, humour creeping into his voice.

Nightmare suppressed yet another groan. Now I’ll hear no end from Blueblood, she thought miserably. The stuck-up nag will be outraged that his son has been overlooked in favour of a commoner. She checked herself, forcing down the urge to lash out verbally at the Inquisitor. Her vizier seemed amused at the trouble he had caused her.

She glared down at him, her ears folding back in annoyance. “Leave us. Now,” she muttered, making a note to punish him later. Ordering him to make a goodwill visit to the Griffon Kingdoms would be suitable. The thought made her smile faintly. I’m sure he’ll love having to suck up to High King Lucien.

The Inquisitor gave a short bow and headed for the door. His cloak billowed like a sail as he whirled around, that insouciant smirk still plastered across his muzzle. He glided to the door, hoofsteps silent and smooth, as always. Not for the first time, the Empress found herself curious as to what the Inquisitor was hiding under his all-concealing Overwatch uniform. She had never seen him without it; she didn’t even know what his cutie mark was. Of course, Nightmare Moon could simply ask him to show her, but ordering her Chancellor to strip naked and bare his flank for her could easily be misconstrued by the ever-present scandalmongers. Gossip was terribly rife in the palace, and servants and nobleponies alike frequently blew such things completely out of proportion.

She found herself staring at the door, unfocused and lost in thought. A nervous shuffle in the corner of her eye caught her attention. Twilight Sparkle was standing near the corner of the room, looking down at the ground. She traced her hoof along the ground, nervous and abashed. Glancing up, she saw the Empress looking at her and quickly returned her gaze to the ground, lowering her head at the attention. It seemed that the filly had lost all the boldness she had in the Academy.

“Hello, Twilight Sparkle,” the Empress smiled awkwardly.

She tried to sound comforting. Nightmare Moon liked foals; it was a relief to see a bright young face, innocent and keen, in a palace full of scheming and grim courtiers. But the truth was, she had little experience actually dealing with them. In hindsight, she should have expected this reaction from Twilight. The foal was in the presence of the highest authority in the land. Even though she had set aside her armour and even her crown while reading reports, she supposed she remained an imposing figure. The mystique of power was not so easily shed.

The filly looked up at her. The mare still towered over her even while lying on her cushion. “Hello, Your Majesty,” Twilight replied, unsure of herself.

“Take a seat,” Nightmare floated over a cushion for the filly to sit on, which she dutifully did. There followed a brief, uneasy silence until the Empress continued. “How was your trip?”

“It was all right, Your Majesty.”

“Were you able to bring all your possessions with you?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Twilight nodded, still refusing to meet the Empress’s eyes.
Nightmare Moon offered one more attempt to strike up a conversation with the filly. “I heard you bumped into some of the figures in the Council.” Twilight did in fact perk up a bit.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” she said – the overuse of the address was actually beginning to grate the alicorn a bit. “We ran into the Duke and he seemed a bit rude. I don’t think the Inquisitor likes him all that much. Before that we met North Star, and she was kind of friendly, but kind of weird. It’s hard to tell if the Inquisitor likes her or not.”

“How so?” the Empress inquired softly, allowing the filly to carry the conversation. Twilight seemed to grow more courageous as she talked.

“Well, they joked around a little, even though they seemed like they were trying to insult each other – they even had an argument – but they were just really polite to one another. It was confusing. I mean, if you don’t like someone, you usually don’t joke around with them, right?”

“In the palace it’s different,” the sovereign of Equestria interjected, smiling easily. “Here you have to be courteous and friendly even if you don’t like the pony you have to be polite to. As for the jokes, well, it’s something that the Inquisitor does to everypony, but North Star always rises to the bait. I personally think they might have a thing going on…”

“What do you mean, a thing?” Twilight raised an eyebrow.

Nightmare Moon backpedalled quickly. “Uh, nothing,” she said, hurriedly standing up. “How would you like to see your room now?”

“Oh, yes I would, Your Majesty!”

Twilight scrambled to her feet, nervousness evidently ebbing quickly, and followed the Empress out of the study. The entire wing of the palace was dedicated for the royal apartments – a collection of rooms set up as the Empress’s personal living space. The halls were more elegant and simplistic than the lavish designs of the more public parts of the palace. Nightmare Moon found the complex relaxing. A faint breeze trailed them through the corridors, warm and laden with the late spring scents of the gardens outside. The Empress greatly preferred this part of the castle to any other wing. Of course, it was her home, but there was also something that reminded her of a time long ago when she knew only innocence and leisure.

They stopped by a pair of double doors which faced one another across the hall. Nightmare Moon gestured to the more magnificent set, trimmed in silver, with the Imperial crest shaped into knockers.

“This is my room. You need to knock before you come in. And this…” She walked to the less extravagantly designed doors and pushed them open. “…is your room.”

Twilight let out a small gasp and stared around the room with a twinkle of wonderment in her eyes. Bookcases lined the walls, packed with texts selected to cater to a young filly’s education. The shelves were separated by an eclectic collection of paintings from many of the greats: Gust-off Crimp’t, Leonardo of Veneighce and even a piece by the griffon modernist Andy Warhawk. In the middle of one wall was a large fireplace, ornately carved from smooth, dark granite. Soft cushions surrounded a sizeable table, and against the far wall lay a bed large enough for four adult ponies, let alone one tiny filly. It was covered with sheets and pillows of the finest silk. This was a room fit for a princess.

“It’s… it’s beautiful,” Twilight murmured at last. Then she noticed her luggage stacked neatly in the corner.

She beamed and scampered over to the luggage, searching through the bags until she uncovered a battered wooden case nearly twice her size. The Empress craned her neck curiously as the filly tugged it free of the pile.

The alicorn’s smile softened as Twilight Sparkle dragged the case over to the balcony doors. Nightmare Moon, seeing the foal struggle to lift what was probably several times her weight, stretched out her magic to help her pick it up. Once it was near the balcony, Twilight gave her timid thanks and opened the case with an air of solemn reverence.
In it were parts; cylinders, tripod legs, lenses, knobs and screws and more. Twilight ran her eyes over the contents of the case, lingering on each fragment nostalgically. The Empress sat down and broke the silence, and the concentration of the foal.

“Is this a telescope?” she asked.

Twilight nodded and replied in a soft voice. “It’s the one my friend and I built together. He gave it to me.”

“Do you use it often?”

“Not as often as I’d like to,” the filly admitted.

“It looks like a good machine,” Nightmare Moon offered. “You must have worked at it for quite some time.”

“We did, yeah,” Twilight furrowed her brow. “But Orion did most of the work. I don’t even remember how to set it up, and I lost the instruction manual.”

The alicorn rubbed her chin thoughtfully. Her student had taken this thing out before unpacking everything else, and it obviously meant a lot to her. It would be a shame for the filly to be unable to watch the stars this evening. The Empress’s heart fluttered with joy as she realised that Twilight Sparkle did not simply live under her night, but actively took notice of its beauty. Somepony who appreciated her art was always welcome.

“Twilight,” the filly looked up at the Empress. “I think I see how it all fits together. I can help you set it up if you want.”

The lavender unicorn’s eyes lit up and a happy smile graced her lips. She sprung up to her feet. “Oh, yes please, Your Majesty!”

Nightmare Moon chuckled at the reaction. “But only if you promise me that you’ll look at the stars this evening.”

“I will, Your Majesty!” Twilight’s voice cracked with glee.

“Good, I’ll make it an extra special evening then.”

The teacher and her new student spent a healthy portion of an hour figuring out how to put the telescope together. It was a complex device, and no diagrams and instructions meant that most of their progress was trial and error. But when they were finished, the contraption stood proudly on the balcony, and it was time for the Queen of the Night to lower the Bright Moon to make way for the Dull Moon. And as she promised, the evening sky was a tapestry – nebulae and stars glittered in the crisp night alongside sparkling pinwheel galaxies and the ephemeral streaks of meteors. Nightmare Moon stayed with her new student into the late hours of the evening, and together they admired the night.

============

Questions, Comments, Concerns and Criticisms are welcome!

Written by Municipal Engines, Assisted and Edited by LordOfTheWrongs
> The Courtiers' Game
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chapter Five:
The Courtiers’ Game


Behind the fiercely guarded doors of the Canterlot throne room sat Nightmare Moon on her Obsidian Throne. Lamplight gleamed off of the polished surface of the purple-black seat. Smooth and glass-like, the Obsidian Throne was carved like a monolith jutting out of the floor, surrounded by circular platforms through which cut a flight of steps carpeted in wine red. It was a magnificent sight, towering high over all who would come to seek an audience with its occupant – the Empress of Equestria. She sat at ease on her throne, resting on cushions of the highest quality and comfort. To her left, on the podium below, was a smaller throne on which the Inquisitor lounged.
 
Before the Obsidian Throne, a semicircular meeting table seated two dozen or so high-ranking military officers, ministers, influential nobles, and assorted hangers-on such that they could all face the Empress and her chancellor. The meeting had been going on for twenty minutes now; the members of her Privy Council had been bickering over minor issues – tax-cuts for lands owned and rented by the Enlightened Way, and grants for building on such lands. Hierophant North Star and Duke Blueblood had spent the last ten minutes of their meeting laying out the proposal for her. The Empress was not an idiot; she had seen before they even began that the proposal would benefit the nobles who leased land to the Way – Blueblood’s constituency, of course – and increase the influence of the Way itself. The Hierophant could convince a great many nobles and townships to give her faction land and facilities if it meant keeping a few more bits in the local coffers.
 
Of course, Marshall Silverstar would fight tooth and hoof against the proposal. The Empress admired the stallion for his tenacity and fierce nature in a den of political vipers. A natural leader, he had become the voice of the common-blooded ministers and champion of what he called “Rose Q. Taxpayer”. The earth pony made no secret of his disdain for religion in general, but he seemed to hold a special grudge against North Star and her Cult Imperia.
 
“The expansion of Cult powers into every aspect of our society continues unabated,” Silverstar growled. He had the refreshing tendency to call things as they were. “Special privileges for Cult properties are just another step. Soon, the only way anypony will gain any advantage in this Empire is to join the Cult.”
 
“As you may have heard, Lord Marshall, the bill does not give privilege specifically to houses of worship for the Cult Imperia,” North Star made a grand gesture as she continued. “We all here follow the Way, as the Way is Perfection. Would it not be good and just to ensure that the Way – beneficial as it is – should flourish? And would it not be unfair to heavily tax the property of a non-profit organisation?”
 
“So we should have tax cuts for all Way-owned property, including buildings of a secular nature?”
 
“I believe that you’re now grasping at straws, Lord Marshall,” Duke Blueblood interjected. “The Way owns very few establishments of primarily irreligious nature – and these are usually homeless shelters, museums and libraries. I fear that you just cannot tolerate the privileges faith has, and its special place in the hearts of the public.”
 
“What I cannot tolerate, Your Grace, is the tendrils of the Cult that are seeping into the mainstream doctrines, and mainstream society.”
 
The Hierophant stood up, pointing dramatically at the military commander. “What we all should not tolerate is your flagrant disrespect for our beloved Empress!”
 
Heads turned at her outburst, first to her and then back to Silverstar. He hesitated and his eyes flicked to the Empress, who was doing her best to look completely impassive. She bobbed her muzzle in the tiniest fraction of a nod; he would have to tread carefully to avoid any hint of irreverence, but he’d offered her no insult she was aware of. That seemed to stiffen his resolve.

“And in what way have I disrespected the Empress?” he demanded. Nightmare Moon’s ears pricked forward with interest as the Hierophant prepared her volley.
 
“You scoff at the Cult Imperia, and you openly declare us to be, quote, ‘a gaggle of ramblers and insane sycophants’!” North Star’s tone grew more hysterical with each word, until she might as well have been delivering an impassioned sermon. “Your blasphemy and disregard for the truth is an ongoing affront to Her Holiness! It is her truth we spread, and her glory you ignore!”
 
The Empress blinked and rolled her eyes – checking that none of her Council saw. The usual, then. No charges she hadn’t heard a hundred times before from the zealot. Talking about me as if I wasn’t here seems more disrespectful, she thought grumpily. Giving a quiet sigh, she blotted the ensuing exchange of tirades from her hearing and turned to the Inquisitor. His impossibly dark eyes caught hers and he raised a knowing eyebrow at her. She gave him a small equally knowing grin. Silverstar and North Star both had explosive personalities, and now all bets were off. There was nothing for it but to let the argument burn itself out; if she stopped them at this point, they’d be sniping back and forth for the rest of the meeting instead of paying attention to the matters at hoof. North Star’s fanatical indignation didn’t even make for an entertaining argument, like Duke Blueblood or the Inquisitor. The Inquisitor gestured to the bottle of amontillado at his elbow, but she shook her head. He shrugged and sipped from his own goblet. The Empress turned back to the table. At least Duke Blueblood had, like a true gentlepony, remained aloof from the row.

I think this may be a new record for the shortest time between the gavel and the first personal insult. Nightmare Moon stifled a sigh. Sometimes she felt more like a school mistress with a class of rowdy foals than Empress of the known world.
 
A century ago, the Cult had begun as a small sect of the Way. Nightmare had basked in their reverence when it was new and exciting, and their worship of the alicorn as “She Who Stayed” was, in its way, touching. The Inquisitor hadn’t liked the idea, though, and had the courage to tell her so. In hindsight, she supposed it did seem somewhat unfair that she was lauded above her kin who were forced to move on from the mortal world, but at the time she had rebuffed him viciously.
 
With her visible support and acceptance, the Cult had grown powerful enough to attempt to add its own dogma to the doctrines of the entire religion. Like making her servants grovel, however, the veneration soon became tiresome. Her objections only deflected their adoration such that they referred to her as if their Empress and the black alicorn on the throne were two different people.
 
Nightmare was jolted out of her thoughts by a sudden, sharp bang. The Inquisitor, it seemed, had finally had enough of the squabble and was smacking his hoof against the dais for silence.
 
“There will be order in the presence of Her Majesty and the Council!” he demanded. Though his words barely rose above his usual speaking voice, the firm tones cut through the din like a warm knife through butter. Teeth clacked together instantly, biting off arguments in mid-word as all eyes turned toward to pale grey pony. “Now, I think I have heard enough, and I would like – at Her Majesty’s pleasure – to move this along.” He looked at the Empress, his expression one of boredom.
 
“Yes,” she nodded. “I believe it would be best if we proceed to the voting on the matter. All in favour of the proposed Religious Properties Tax Reform Act raise your hoof.”
 
Thirteen hooves were raised. Most were nobility in Blueblood’s orbit, or those officials under the influence of North Star. Others were, Nightmare Moon recognised, the usual fence-sitters and aspiring Marechiavellis who attempted to play at the game of thrones despite having too little power to gather their own cliques of hoof-lickers. These were the swing votes that the Marshall, the Duke, the Hierophant and the Inquisitor often fought over.
 
“And those against?”
 
The Empress counted eleven. These were Silverstar’s lot – selected representatives from guilds and hard-working cities – as well as the Inquisitor’s puppets. The Inquisitor also had his hoof raised, which counted for two votes.
 
“A tie,” Nightmare declared. “As the decision is ultimately down to me, I shall take into account your arguments and retire to consider my decision. My choice shall be submitted to you all in a memorandum. For now, Council is adjourned. Good night, my lords and ladies.”
 
All stood up, save for the Empress and her chancellor, and bowed to the throne. Nightmare Moon accepted the gesture with her own shallow nod, and they turned and left in swift succession. Servants poured in, quickly busying themselves with the table and chairs. The throne room was to be cleared quickly. As they hauled them out of the room, Nightmare Moon relaxed, breathing out a sigh that she had been holding in for far too long.
 
“Troubled, Empress?” the Inquisitor asked, smiling his usual enigmatic smile, his voice strangely comforting. “Perhaps you would like me to pour you a glass of sherry?” He gestured with the bottle of wine.
 
“I swear, Inquisitor, you try to get me to drink far too often,” she grinned slyly. “Do you aim to make me drunk so you can take advantage of me?”
 
The Inquisitor didn’t reply. He simply blinked, his face remaining still and fixed in a small, polite grin.

“That was a joke, Inquisitor,” she sighed.
 
“Yes, Your Majesty,” he nodded, brushing the attempt at humour away. “Do you want some tea instead? I’ll summon a servant for you.”
 
“Actually, Inquisitor, I think I’ll take some time for myself. Our drinks will have to wait for later,” she stood up and stretched, spreading her wings and giving them a couple of limbering flaps. “Before I go, do you have anything to report?”
 
The Inquisitor shrugged. “The Gallopfreyans are still complaining that they can’t have an ‘Empire on which the sun never sets’. I don’t think the Eclipse counts for them.”
 
Nightmare Moon glowered at him.
 
“That was a joke, Empress,” his smile widened ever so slightly.
 
“Good night, Inquisitor.”
 
The black alicorn left her chancellor sipping at his wine. She could feel his dark eyes on her as she went, but suppressed an involuntary shiver until she was out of his sight.
 
Outside the throne room, it was somewhat warmer and brighter. Lit chandeliers poured warm light down the cool gray walls and across marble tiles only a few shades above midnight blue. The kiss of golden light on the dusk-gray marble brought to mind ancient memories of her sister’s - brought to mind candle light on dark marble and nothing more. Glancing around, she found nopony but her ever-faithful Imperial Guard, standing like fierce metal statues. So dedicated they were, with the patience of dragons and the loyalty of dogs.
 
Exclusively male, she noted, not for the first time. For some reason, the mares of her country were largely disinclined toward military service. Silverstar often complained about it, and there was always planning for a recruitment campaign aimed at mares. This was always quashed by North Star and Blueblood. Nightmare still had no idea what their motivations behind that particular move were.
 
The Empress passed through a pair of doors that led to a balcony. The supernatural warmth of the Bright Moon filled her bones with soothing heat. It was nothing like the embrace of the sun, but it was hers and it was enough. She watched the gardeners go about their nightly business for a time, fighting back the advancing armies of weeds and lichen and quelling the unruly branches and leaves that sprouted from the trees. The bluebells were in full bloom, as were the lilies and lotuses that floated daintily on the surface of the moat.
 
Breathing in the crisp air of the night, Nightmare Moon spread her wings to the faint breeze. She was going to enjoy this flight; she so rarely had the chance to. The prospect of dashing through the clouds and gliding so far up in the heavens that the cities of the world below her looked like stars always excited her. She loved flying. Stretching her wings out and bending her knees, she tensed to leap into the star-studded sky.
 
“Your Majesty!” a sophisticated voice called out.
 
Oh, Ancestors! What now? the Empress thought grumpily. She folded her wings and resumed a dignified posture as she fought down a scowl that might well reduce her visitor to dust. He wore his sash proudly, with each medal and sigil polished to shine like the stars that hung above them. He was handsome, no one could say otherwise, but so dreadfully arrogant. That little goatee of his always seemed to be in such an immaculate state that it would have taken a dozen servants to get it that way. It probably did. “Yes, Duke Blueblood?”

“I have heard of the most recent addition to your illustrious household,” he started. “A student, one Twilight Sparkle.”
 
Of course, pester me about this just when I’m about to enjoy myself. “Yes, I have decided to take an especially gifted young unicorn into my fold. Is there anything you would particularly like to talk about in regards to my decision?”
 
“No, Your Majesty,” the Duke quickly lowered his head in an overly ostentatious display of humility. “I simply did not know that you were taking in students. If a may suggest–”
 
“Only the one, Duke Blueblood. I am only tutoring the one unicorn.”
 
Blueblood flinched at this, but came back, still determined. “There are also many other fine potential candidates for apprenticeship under Your Majesty. Gifted, worthy unicorns such as Skygold of the House of Hoofenzollern, or even my son, Prince Blueblood the Tenth.”
 
“I am afraid that the position is already filled by Twilight Sparkle. I only really have time for one student,” the Empress stated, her voice almost breaking its regally stoic tone as she began to lose patience with the unicorn prince.
 
Blueblood did his best to hide an appalled look, but Nightmare Moon knew him well enough to see it as clear as the craters of the moon. “Your Majesty, I simply must protest your decision. The idea that a commoner – an unknown orphan no less – has been selected as your protégée over more noble and eligible candidates is offensive to many of the aristocratic families.”
 
Nightmare Moon’s icy, dragon-like eyes locked with the Duke’s blue ones in silent warning. He backed away from her glower. She stepped forward to fill in the gap, and narrowed her eyes at him. Blueblood nervously glanced at the doors to the palace halls before returning his eyes to the Empress and did his best to put on a dignified face.
 
“Then let them be offended, Blueblood,” her voice was almost a growl. “But don’t presume to argue with me over my decision. I see in Twilight Sparkle all the qualities that so-called ‘eligible candidates’ like your son lack. The foremost are ability and dedication. Manners also come to mind, which your son has almost entirely forgotten. Now leave me be, Blueblood. Your interruption has already eaten into my precious spare time.”
 
With that, the Empress turned and launched into the air with a powerful spring from her hind legs. As she soared up into the black night sky, the alicorn smiled at the feeling of the wind in her hair. The shaken unicorn shrunk rapidly behind her, then finally vanished beneath a layer of clouds.
 
============
 
Dear Twilight,
 
Sorry this didn’t get to you yesternight. Miss Loch’s been making me work my grounding off, so I’ve had hardly any time to write. But anyway, I’m glad that you’re settled in. That gigantic library is probably the perfect place for you – I bet you’ve been in it most of the time. The Empress seems nice, although I always saw her as kind of scary. I guess first impressions aren’t always the right ones.
 
It’s pretty dull over here without you. Those three who were always teasing you have stopped picking on everypony. One of the earth ponies ran away, but he was picked up by the Canterlot Watch, and the other came to me to give his apology to you. That was really awkward. Blitz hasn’t done or said much lately. He’s still horrible to everypony, but he doesn’t have his lackeys to back him up anymore. He keeps giving me a really bad look whenever I see him.
 
Miss Loch’s decided not to assign me another roommate after all. Which is good, I think. I don’t know what I’d do if it was somepony who was really hyperactive, or really stuck-up. It’s been pretty weird having nopony else in my room though, but sometimes I can definitely appreciate the privacy.
 
I hope you’re having a good time over there. I bet you can’t wait for the Empress to start teaching you things, huh? Just stay away from those Overwatch ponies, and even though that Inquisitor guy sounds all right, I still would watch out if I were you. Be careful over there.
 
Your friend, Orion
 
Twilight smiled and put the letter back on the bedside table. Sitting up in her oversized bed, she turned to face the rest of her room. Even though only a few nights had passed, books already scattered the room like a small mountain range. The filly spent most of her time either in the library or in her room, joyfully digging through the almost infinite variety of volumes that were available to her.
 
The library itself was gargantuan, with several floors and hundreds of bookcases. Thousands upon thousands of books, old and new, lined the shelves and her choices were never limited like they had been back at the orphanage. Well, almost never, she thought begrudgingly. Certain sections of the library were locked and the head librarian even said some of the more dangerous books were kept in vaults. This only piqued the foal’s interest, but she knew that she shouldn’t anger the Empress by trying to break into the palace’s vaults in search of a few dusty tomes.
 
Twilight slid off of her bed and stretched. She had the whole summer before the Academy reopened, and this was time that could be spent doing whatever she wanted. Right there and then, Twilight wanted to explore beyond the Royal Apartments. She grinned at the thought of what she might find in the massive complex, her thoughts wandering even to the idea of stumbling upon an enormous room filled with all the treasury’s valuables, glittering like a golden bejewelled sea.
 
As her stomach gave a soft, quiet rumble, Twilight quickly amended her plan with a side mission. Operation Snack is a go, she thought. Maybe I can get some exploring done on the way to the kitchens. Twilight strode boldly out of her room and past the doors of the Royal Apartments into the more public body of the palace. Already she saw servants wandering to and fro, tending to any number of tasks. Twilight briefly considered following one of them into the maze of service corridors where an army of menials maintained the palace behind the scenes, but dismissed it with a mental shrug. While it would be interesting, she was in search of wonders tonight. And food, her stomach reminded her.
 
The halls seemed to form a labyrinth, turning into spiralling staircases or meandering and splitting off into junctions. There were so many rooms, and Twilight had no idea what even a few of them were for. Curiosity finally taking a firm hold over her, she stopped at one of the doors and peeked inside. It was an office, spectacularly furnished, but merely an office nonetheless. Disappointed, she tried another door further along. This one was a storage cupboard. Glaring as if the door had personally offended her, Twilight flew into a frustrated flurry along the corridor, checking every door she came across. To her increasing irritation, they were all either offices or storage rooms. The little filly stomped her hoof and moved to intercept a passing servant for answers.
 
“Excuse me, but what part of the palace is this?” she asked.
 
“These are the clerks’ offices,” the mare said in a brisk, quick voice. The servant’s sense of urgency was lost on the filly.
 
“Why would the palace need clerks?”
 
“Oh, you know,” the mare waved a hoof dismissively. “Taxes, number crunching, addition – all that kind of tediousness. The government’s centred in the palace, after all.”
 
The pony brushed past Twilight and walked at a doubled pace down the hall. Twilight thought it best to leave it at that, until her stomach growled a greedy note at her.
 
“Excuse me, miss?” she began.
 
The mare whirled around, evidently irritated by the interruption. “Stars above! What do you want?”
 
“I just wanted to know where the kitchens were,” Twilight lowered her head and looked at the floor, biting her lip. “I’m kind of hungry…”
 
“Head towards the dining area – near the palace residences – and you’ll find them around that area, towards the back,” the servant instructed firmly, though she made the effort to soften her voice.
 
Twilight gave her thanks and a smile before she turned back the way she had come from and scampered towards the kitchens. Emerging back into a slightly larger thoroughfare, she hesitated, glancing left and right. Toward the back, she said. Which way is the back? The filly took a chance, heading to the left, following the hall through two more turns and down a stairwell. Whenever she was presented with a choice of paths, she chose the one that her meager sense of direction suggested would lead toward the residential areas. Her sense of unease grew each time a hall curled back on itself or forced her into a stairway, and she quickly found herself entirely alone in the silent corridors. She knew she was lost again when she came upon a dim corridor that ended in a blank wall.
 
The little filly’s gaze drifted to the walls, where paintings hung, gathering dust. The whole area looked like it had not been occupied for some time, and the silence seemed nearly unnatural. Twilight couldn’t help feeling that there was something off about the place. It was as if the quiet and the lack of life were somehow deliberate. Glancing from one painting to another, Twilight saw the grim faces of mares and stallions that were, in all cases, quite unremarkable. Their eyes unnerved her, though. They seemed to track her every move, following her actions like a predator watching prey. Without apparent cause, a chill suddenly ran up Twilight’s back. She really didn’t want to be down this corridor. Eyes darting nervously around her, she had only taken two steps back when she heard a faint but soul-chilling noise, like the dying, whispery echoes of a ghostly scream. The filly turned and bolted, slamming right into somepony’s chest.
 
Twilight fell and landed back on her rump. Shaking her head, she looked up and her eyes met with the cold, dark eyes of the Inquisitor. His brow was furrowed in bemusement at her, but he didn’t seem cross. His face, in fact, was relaxed and passive. Nonetheless, the darkness of his gaze sent shivers down Twilights spine and she inched away instinctively.
 
“Twilight, what are you doing here?” he gave a soft wry smile, which made the lavender unicorn relax a bit. “This area is forbidden.”
 
“I… I was just… lost,” she stuttered pathetically. “I’m trying to get to the residential wing.”
 
The Inquisitor glanced momentarily at the end of the corridor behind her before raising an eyebrow at the foal. “Let’s get you on the proper path then. Follow me.”
 
Twilight obeyed without a sound. The Inquisitor kept her close as he navigated the winding hallways. Servants, staff and even what looked like nobility gave him a respectfully wide berth and bowed their heads as he passed. He kept his eyes front and paid them no heed. Eventually, he led the young filly to the residential wing.
 
“And here we are, little Sparks,” he said, grinning boyishly at the nickname.
 
She smiled back and said her thanks as he wheeled around and left in the direction they had just come from. The area Twilight now found herself in was not far from the entrance to the Royal Apartments, which veered off into another entirely separate wing of the palace. These were the rooms of government officials and household members who had the privilege of living in the palace. The faint scent of baking bread drew a fresh round of complaints from the lavender unicorn’s empty stomach, and before long, she had followed her nose straight to the dining room, and then to the kitchens.
 
Inside, the air was permeated with the smells of herbs, vegetables and spices of all kinds. The scents filled her every breath and her stomach growled a fiercer desire for food. Pots and pans and an assortment of knives and other utensils lined the counters. Steam leapt from pots as the sounds of whistling and bubbling and clattering attempted to rebuff the din of the chefs’ strident voices. She licked her lips and took a step forward, but was stopped almost immediately by a stern-looking stallion.
 
“What are you doing here?” he asked, his voice giving the definite indication that he was from somewhere in Gallopfrey, Trottingham perhaps. “Little fillies aren’t allowed in the kitchen. In fact, I don’t think little fillies are allowed in the palace.”
 
“I… I live here,” she said. “In the Royal Apartments.”
 
He raised an eyebrow. “Sorry, kiddo, I’m not buying that rubbish.”
 
Twilight gulped and backed away. Perhaps if she left now, she wouldn’t get into trouble? The chef might call for the guards to escort her out, or he might even tell the Empress. Twilight could imagine the midnight-coated alicorn towering over her, with a look that said ‘perhaps I made a mistake bringing you here’. She bit her lip.
 
“Chef Ram Sea, sir, we’ve got a problem with the salts,” a mare appeared next to the Gallopfreyan chef.
 
The stallion groaned. “What happened?”
 
“Uh, they’re not here yet. There’s been a mix-up with the suppliers and–”
 
“Well that’s just bloody perfect!” he threw his hooves in the air. “Stars above, Salt Wind! How am I supposed to get anything done without the damned salt?”
 
“I don’t know sir, I…” the mare finally noticed Twilight. “Who’s this?”
 
“Some girl, don’t know her name,” he muttered. “But she shouldn’t be here.”
 
Salt Wind furrowed her brow, studying her momentarily. Vague recognition came to her face. Turning to Ram Sea, she gave him a nervous, almost frantic gesture for silence. She turned back to Twilight, smiling pleasantly at the little filly.
 
“I’m so sorry about that, dear. Do you mind telling me your name, sweetie?” she asked in an overly-friendly voice that reminded Twilight all too much of the staff at the foster home.
 
“Twilight Sparkle,” the purple foal replied.
 
The mare gave a gasp, her eyes suddenly widening in realisation. Salt Wind pulled the stallion aside.
 
“Chef Sea, I think this is the filly the Empress brought in a few nights ago,” she told him in a voice that, though hushed, Twilight could still hear. “I heard the maids talking about a purple little pony called Twilight Sparkle, but I don’t know what she’s supposed to be.”
 
“I’m the Empress’s personal student,” Twilight offered.
 
At this, the chef jolted upright, shock plain on his face, and stared at the filly. His gaze flicked to the mare every now and then to gauge her own reaction. She remained calm, even somewhat smug. He gave a short, apologetic nod of a bow to Twilight.
 
“Sorry, Miss Sparkle – I didn’t realise,” he pressed his lips tightly together. “Anything you ask, I’ll be happy to help.”
 
“Um, it’s all right. I was just here to look for a snack,” Twilight replied, feeling more than a little awkward. She was taken completely off guard by the sudden shift in the cook’s attitude. Was she really this important that she would get special treatment?
 
The stallion stepped forward nervously. “What can I get for you?”
 
“Oh…” Twilight scuffed her hoof against the floor, uncertain. Back at the foster home, the best she could have hoped for was an apple or banana from the fruit bowl in the dining room, but here she had the whole pantry available to her. “Can I have some bread and cheese, please? Oh, and some grapes would be nice. Some cucumber and celery too.”
 
He nodded and sent Salt Wind cantering off to the food storage. She returned a few minutes later – thankfully breaking the awkward silence that had developed between Twilight and Chef Sea. She carried a bowl filled with an assortment of breads, cheeses, fruits and vegetables. Salt smiled at Twilight as she passed her the bowl. Oh my stars! she thought excitedly. That actually worked!
 
“And please can I have a cookie too?” she asked sweetly, deciding to press her luck. To her surprise, the mare nodded and disappeared across the kitchen, soon returning with a warm chocolate-chip cookie. Twilight took it graciously and wolfed it down.
 
“Don’t mind Head Chef Ram Sea,” she said cheerfully. “He’s just always under a lot of pressure, what with cooking for the most important and powerful people in Equestria.”
 
“Thank you,” Twilight beamed, before looking at Chef Sea. “Both of you.”
 
After the cooks gave her directions, she left them, the stallion looking much more relaxed. Her booty in hoof, she traversed the sinuous corridors and into the palace gardens. Willows seemed to be the dominant feature of this part of the gardens, and wide patches of bluebells grew next to the trees. The wooded area was quiet, save for the light singing of birds and the faint rustle of the leaves in the wind. The drooping branches of the willows rocked gently as the breeze blew through them. It was so peaceful, and the flowers were so beautiful. The ground was somehow very soft, whether through the tireless work of master groundskeepers or through magic Twilight was not sure. The unicorn lay down with her legs curled underneath her body, and set the bowl to her side. Smiling contentedly, Twilight picked up her food with magic and began to eat. Bread crumbs dusted her coat as she bit down on a cheese-covered loaf, but she paid no heed – she was far too hungry to care. The filly didn’t even notice when a set of hooves stomped towards her.
 
“Ugh, I would have thought even a servant girl would have at least some control when eating.”
 
Twilight paused with a string of cheese hanging down her chin and looked up. In front of her was a young, handsome unicorn colt. He was around as old as Orion was, perhaps older, and had an immaculately kept coat of pure white. Golden tresses fell down to his shoulders and his fringe was swept neatly across his forehead. His eyes were brilliant blue orbs that stared down at her in a manner that reminded Twilight all too much of Duke Blueblood. Glancing at his cutie mark, Twilight saw a gold and silver compass rose.
 
“Excuse me?” was all she managed.
 
“You are getting crumbs all over your coat,” the unicorn snorted. “Brush yourself off and come with me.”
 
A number of retorts, questions and answers came to mind, but Twilight looked wistfully at her food-filled bowl and moaned, “But I haven’t finished my lunch.”
 
“Too bad, now come along,” the colt gave no indication of waiting for her response, instead simply turned around and led the way.
 
Twilight harrumphed. Who does he think he is, ordering me around? She had half a mind to ignore the colt, but then her thoughts turned to the Empress. After all, she was a guest in the palace, and this pony had an air of importance around him. Perhaps it would be best to just follow him and see what he wants? That way I won’t accidentally offend the Empress. Sighing with indignation, the purple unicorn picked up her bowl and cantered after the colt.
 
He led her back into the castle and to the reception hall, where Twilight had been introduced to courtiers earlier in the week. Despite being nowhere near as bustling as it had been on that night, there were still plenty of ponies around, whether they were servants or government officials. The unicorn trotted over to a spot in the corner where there was a circular stone rococo table surrounded by plump elegant cushions. He stood there, looking at her expectantly. Curious, Twilight inspected the spot, seeing what was bothering him. Nothing out of the ordinary was there.
 
“Well?” he asked. She just stared at him.
 
“Well what?”
 
“Are you not going to do anything about this travesty?” he asked.
 
As a demonstration, the unicorn put a hoof on one side of the table and pressed down. There was a distinct wobble accompanied by an irritating sound of stone table leg clapping on marble floor. He repeated the action several times, driving home the point. Twilight could only stare at him dumbfounded.
 
“This is what you dragged me out here for?” she asked, angrily setting her bowl of food down on the table. “A dumb wobbly table?”
 
“Well, yes,” he replied, as if it was obvious. “I am a prince, and so I cannot sit at a deficient table now, can I?”
 
“But there are loads of tables all over!” the lavender filly gestured to the many tables that were indeed scattered around the hall.
 
“But this is my favourite spot,” the prince replied. “I always sit here for lunch when Papa needs the dining room for meetings.”
 
“Why not just drag another table over here then?”
 
He looked appalled at the suggestion. “A prince should not exert himself! That is servants’ work.”
 
“Okay, then why not get a servant?” she asked.
 
“All of the servants said they were too busy. The nerve!” he sniffed. “Besides, you are a servant, even if you are a foal.”
 
“I’m not a servant,” Twilight stated stiffly.

“You’re not?” the white unicorn rubbed his chin in thought. “Well then, you must be the daughter of a servant or a clerk. Certainly not the foal of a noble house – no proper Lady would eat like you did outside.”
 
Twilight’s jaws clenched at his remarks. “I don’t have any parents.”
 
The prince’s attitude immediately changed. Where there once was condescending negligence, there was now shock. He took a step back, staring at her with surprised eyes.
 
“You’re an orphan!” he declared. “A pauper storming the palace to steal food, or money! Stay away from me, thief! These cufflinks are worth hundreds of bits!”
 
Much to Twilight’s chagrin, his wailing had cut straight through the chatter of ponies in the hall and now all eyes were on her and the colt. She felt heat coming unbidden to her face at the attention and the circumstance in which she was receiving it. She needed to get the situation under control, and fast.
 
“No, please, you don’t understand,” Twilight stepped forward. A poor move.
 
“Ah! I said stay back! Guards! Guards!” he lowered his head. “I have a horn and a second-place position in the Fencing Tournament and I’m not afraid to use it!”
 
Twilight backed away and looked to the crowd helplessly. They eyed her with interest, or suspicion. Many were quietly laughing to themselves and their fellows. She felt even hotter than before. Twilight hated it when everypony paid attention to her. Just then, a stallion stepped out of the midst of the gathered ponies. He had a dark brown coat and a grey mane – likely gone that colour from him being well into his middle ages. Sprouting from his face were bushy but tamed sideburns and a glorious bristling moustache that looked as though it would leap off his upper lip at any moment and wrestle the nearest bear. The stallion wore medals of valour on a deep blue vest that was obviously military in design and a sword – noticeably lacking in opulence – fastened to his side.
 
“What’s going on here, Prince Blueblood?” he asked.
 
“I found this filly on the grounds!” the prince pointed an accusatory hoof at Twilight. “She’s an orphan off the streets and she’s trying to break into the palace!”
 
Twilight felt herself shrink as the earth pony stallion turned to inspect her. After several moments of taking her in, he smiled cheerfully.
 
“You must be Twilight Sparkle. I’ve heard so much about you. Is Blueblood disturbing you?”
 
“Marshal, what are you doing? Arrest her!” Prince Blueblood was aghast.
 
“Well, sort of,” Twilight glanced at the now seething unicorn noblecolt and then to her bowl. “I was having lunch outside.”
 
“Well, I’m sorry that he’s wasted your time,” the Marshal said. “He does that quite often.” This received a great many nods from the crowd.
 
“Marshal,” the colt said, now keeping his hysterics in check. “Can we please at least escort her off the palace grounds?”
 
The Marshal turned to the princeling and furrowed his brow, his smile dropping. “I’m afraid we can’t do that. She lives here.”
 
“What?” Blueblood was incredulous. “Why did this orphan foal get to live at the palace?”
 
“Because she is my student,” a new voice was carried through the room.
 
Everypony turned to see the tall and proud form of the Empress gliding through the assembled mass, parting it as they stepped away to give her space. All bowed at her arrival, save for Prince Blueblood. The white unicorn gave a high-pitched squeak and froze, locked in an awkwardly hunched position. Beads of fearful sweat now began to pour down his face. She looked down at Twilight, smiling warmly, before turning her gaze to the white unicorn colt.
 
“I think, Prince Blueblood,” she began, her tone carefully strict. “That it would be best if you got to know a new pony first before you jump to a conclusion.”
 
The prince kept his head bowed, but Twilight could clearly see his cheeks redden in embarrassment. The Empress looked around her, stern gaze quickly getting the message through to the crowd for them to disperse and return to their former activities. Blueblood remained in place to risk the Empress’s wrath until formally dismissed.
 
“Thank you for intervening here, Marshal Silverstar,” the Empress said.
 
“No need to thank me, Your Majesty,” he bowed again, before turning to the prince. “I think you can get back to your father, Blueblood. You’ve more than likely caused him enough embarrassment for one night.”
 
The unicorn carefully slunk away, head hanging low. Silverstar bowed to the Queen of the Night and marched more than walked away, his posture rigid and dignified and his steps like perfect clockwork. Twilight and the Empress were left alone in the corner of the room – the courtiers giving them both a respectfully wide berth. Nightmare Moon cast her attention back to Twilight, her face brightening.
 
“I was thinking, Twilight, that we could begin your first lesson in unicorn magic tonight,” she mused. “What do you think?”
 
Twilight could barely contain her excitement. “That would be great!” she cried, a wide grin quickly growing across her face. Remembering where she was and who she was talking to, the filly continued in a more reserved manner. “I would love to learn from you tonight, Your Majesty.”
 
The alicorn smiled softly at the little filly, who was looking at her with something akin to giddy adoration. “Follow me, then, Twilight,” Nightmare Moon started on her way towards the exit. “There’s a very nice private place in the willow groves I think you might enjoy.”
 
============

Questions, Comments, Concerns and Criticisms are welcome!

Written by Municipal Engines, Assisted and Edited by LordOfTheWrongs
> Tact and Wiles
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chapter Six: 
Tact and Wiles 


Dear Orion,

It’s weird; the last couple of my letters have been a bit late, even though you’re just on the other side of town. I think it might be because the mail system here at the palace is just so overloaded with all the letters and reports going in and out.
 
Everypony’s so busy here all the time. The servants don’t even have time to talk, less than the assistants at the foster home did. But they’re all really polite though. The chefs I told you about are pretty nice when I got to know them. Salt Wind is also very nice. At mealtime, she always gives me a little extra for dessert. Ram Sea doesn’t really talk to me, though. He always just excuses himself or apologises for being so busy and gets Salt Wind to do it.
 
It’s all so fancy, too! The ponies, the rooms and even the gardens are fancy. There are so many ladies and gentlecolts here. The city seems to get fancier and more elite the closer you get to the palace. They don’t really talk to me though, which is fine, because they don’t have anything all that interesting to say when I do talk to one.
 
It’s hard to think that it’s only been two and a half weeks since I moved here. It feels like forever since I’ve seen you. The Empress has been teaching me loads of things about magic, but we haven’t really done anything all that difficult. I’ve been catching up on my reading though. There are so many books in the palace; I don’t think I’ll ever be able to read them all! Every evening before bed, I still like to use our telescope to look at the sky for a bit.
 
You don’t have to worry so much, anyway. I haven’t gone near any Blackcloaks if I can help it, although I run into the Inquisitor a lot. But I am perfectly fine. I know what Miss Loch says sometimes, but the government isn’t all that mean. All the ponies at Canterlot have been really kind.
 
Nightmare Moon has been making sure I’m okay. In fact, she’s been especially nice to me. Sometimes she can be a bit intimidating, but I think she’s a good mare underneath all that tradition and authority. The Empress showed me some spells earlier. The way she performed them was absolutely perfect! I can’t really describe it, but watching her do magic is kind of like attending a lecture by your favourite philosopher, or seeing one of those martial artist ponies you like to read about demonstrating their techniques. I really can’t wait for you to meet her!
 
I do think about Miss Loch and the foster home and you a lot, though. But I’m sure you can come over sometime soon!
 
Your friend, Twilight
 
============
 
The Inquisitor hated these mountains. Not because of the cold, or the height; he found those aspects quite exhilarating, in fact. No, he hated these mountains because they were the Eyrie Peaks – precisely in the middle of Griffon territory. From the top of the highest peak, he could look down on the ancient city of grey stone had been built on the mountain; not on any plateau or mesa, but right down the side. The griffon city of Highroost was, if anything, a feat of remarkable engineering. The buildings were dug into the face of cliffs, tottering thousands of metres over the ground, nearly vertical. There were plazas, many of which hung off the side of the heights like a very thick, very large balcony. A highway of stairs led right to the palace at the summit, where the Inquisitor was now, idly wondering how much of the mountain had been hollowed out to construct the capital of the Kingdom of Rodor.

The palace itself was cut right into the peak. Its front was dominated by a massive verandah that was lined with impossibly large columns several metres in diameter; well over four times that in height. If it wasn't the columns outside that gave a clue to what the architectural theme was, then it would be the smaller, skinnier but numerous columns of the interior that would. There was very little furniture in the main hall – which took up most of the palace’s first floor – just steps, columns and the circle of thrones right at the back. The ‘windows’ of the palace were in reality just large square holes, in the wall that served as easy access points for those beings that could fly. Ancestors, I’m high up, he thought absent-mindedly. The Inquisitor turned away from the open egress and headed for the thrones.

Climbing a set of stairs to the elevated part of the hall, he came to a round stone table surrounded by stone thrones. Stone, so much stone, he grumbled. It wasn’t even marble or polished granite – just generic, sturdy, dull stone. The whole palace, the whole city even, was grey; pragmatic and impressive, yet so dull. The largest of the thrones faced the main entrance of the great hall, and was studded with milky diamonds. It had scenes carved into it depicting fierce griffon warriors and kings, engaged in battles, flying high and proud, or accepting tribute. Without a doubt this was the Sky Throne of the High King of the Griffons.

These seats were mostly occupied, and the one directly opposite the Sky Throne was reserved for him, as was the Rodorian custom. The Inquisitor nodded respectfully to the griffons in attendance, and again to the male seated on the Sky Throne. When the stallion took his place, his fur-collared coat was taken away by a servant and he smiled dryly at the High King.

This particular griffon was old, yet looked young for his age. Around fifty or so years, High King Lucien was a portrait of a fine griffon. His feathers were stark black, a noticeable difference to the rest of the griffons gathered, and the feathers around his eyes and on his crest were of dark red. A circlet – a band of gold studded with rubies and emeralds – rested on his head. His unflinching gaze never left the Inquisitor, who blinked calmly and coolly as he waited for the High King’s reaction.

“Welcome, Lord Inquisitor, Chancellor of Equestria,” Lucien said at last, in Griffon Speech, his harsh voice thick and booming. “I invite you to attend this Hrófmoot as representative of your nation.”

“I accept humbly your invitation, High King Lucien, Lord of the Heavens,” came the traditional and expected reply from the Inquisitor. In truth, the pale grey stallion despised having to verbally humble himself in front of this foreign king – and a griffon no less. To make matters worse, propriety required that he use Griffon Speech himself instead of the nobler Equine language.

Lucien smiled coldly. “Shall we proceed to the Exchanging of Gifts?”

“Yes, of course,” the Inquisitor responded. The griffons were a people who had a particular love, one almost fanatical in proportions, of traditions. They were worse than the conservative aristocrats in Equestria when it came to adherence to custom. The griffons always exchanged gifts from host to guest and vice versa.

The High King began the exchange, beckoning for the attendants to carry forth a chest. Placing it next to the stallion, they opened it and revealed to him the treasure inside. The Inquisitor’s smile became a little more genuine. It was filled with feathers that shone an unnatural gold. Each one had been painstakingly enchanted and cleaned, and had likely come from some old wizard of a griffon who had recently died. Griffon feathers had potent medicinal properties even when they were not treated and enchanted. Griffons guarded their dead jealously, so the Inquisitor knew that this particular griffon had likely gifted his body to the pursuit of healing.

“This is a very special gift,” he smiled politely. “The Empress will be pleased.”

The Inquisitor ushered forth one of his black-clad retinue, who placed an ornate bottle on the table. The griffon kings’ eyes lit up and Lucien lent forward, mesmerised by the shifting, glittering liquid within. It glowed softly and subtly changed colour as it swirled around in the glass.

“Liquid magic,” the High King murmured. “I’ve never seen so much before.”

The High King was taken completely off-guard by the gift. The Inquisitor had been, too, when Nightmare Moon told him to present it to the Hrófmoot. He loathed giving away such a priceless and rare commodity, but the Empress was adamant about repairing the strained relations between griffons and ponies. The amount of the precious substance the griffons had been given was enough to warp the very world around them; shattering the constraints of physical and natural laws. The Inquisitor idly wondered what would happen if he were to ignite it within the palace. He would have loved to see the effects it would have had on the mountain and its inhabitants. He suppressed the thought and returned to matters at hoof.

“Shall we get to business?” the stallion asked. “I am needed back in Equestria and the sooner we get this wrapped up, the better.”

“Of course,” Lucien nodded and motioned to a servant, who spread a map of the region on the table. The griffon king made a sweeping gesture. “The Griffon Kingdoms are surrounded by the equine nations. The Equestrian-Rodorian border is the largest of our frontiers – made even larger ever since your country’s annexation of the Great Western Wilds (which we have not recognised as legal in any way). To the south-east, you can see here that the Cawcasus Mountains form our border with the Tsardom of Konnica, and we have already signed a treaty with them properly establishing our borders in the region.”

The Inquisitor rested his head on his hoof and wallowed in his thoughts. He knew where High King Lucien was going with this, and it angered him that the griffon would have the gall to even suggest such a thing. But nevertheless, he waited.

“The Western Wilds are rich in coal and iron. Not to mention diamonds,” the High King continued. “As I said before, your government’s settling of the land has not been recognised as legal by my government.”

“That may be so, Your Majesty, but the Equestrian people have settled there already. You should have laid a claim to the lands to the west before we began establishing towns,” the Inquisitor replied, coolly and calmly.

“But we did,” Lucien’s voice became stiffer. “And your government seemed to ignore the claim and decide that the entire Western Wilds were yours by right. The griffons have not shut their eyes and ears to the outside world; we know what your media has to say about your so-called ‘Manifest Destiny’.”

“Your Majesty,” the leather-clad stallion began, remaining as nonchalant as he could. He had a very good poker face. “While it is unfortunate that your people are unable to expand, I am afraid there is nothing we can do about it.”

“You can consider evacuating the northern half of the Great Western Wilds.”

Externally, the Inquisitor remained locked in a polite smile, but internally he felt his anger surging. Surely this creature wasn’t suggesting that the Equestrian Empire bow to the whims of outsiders? He cocked his head sideways.

“I’m afraid that what you’re suggesting is quite impossible. The northern regions of the Wilds are forested and rich in resources. That is by far the more valuable half.”

The griffon kings began to raise their voices, saying any number of things to counter the Inquisitor’s statement. It was all lost in a maelstrom of voices, which raged until Lucien banged a fist on the arm of his throne. Silence fell over the table and the ashen pony waited patiently for the High King to speak.

“We cannot accept that,” Lucien announced, his gravelly voice was firm and adamant. “Our claims were ignored by your government and the region was settled without regard for our intentions in the area. This has been a grave insult on Equestria’s part.”

“The Empire will not bend on its position in the Wilds. Our citizens are already settling in the north, and plans have been drawn up to settle in the southern deserts,” the Inquisitor steepled the tips of his hooves together. “We cannot surrender territory that rightfully belongs to our government and is home to Equestrian citizens.”

“The Wilds are not yours by right!” the High King barked. “Where else can we expand to but the frozen wastes of the north and the western icy seas that border our kingdoms?”

There was a chorus of agreement from the table. One griffon king spoke up. “The only way we can expand is south!”

“Either into the Wilds, or into Equestria!” shouted another.

This comment made, the chatter stopped abruptly. The Inquisitor grimaced bitterly as eagle-like eyes fell on him, gauging his reaction. The grey pony frowned and stood up, leaning forward on the table. His dark eyes locked onto the griffon that had last spoken, who shrank back as the piercing gaze seized his heart. The Inquisitor knew well how to intimidate and had perfected it to an art form. He had no need for the raising of voices or of show of arms, or even the need to speak. He required only that they look at his eyes; for once they did he seemed to stare into their very soul with contempt. In a way, this was true.

“Believe me when I say that I do not take threats very kindly. You would do well to remember the Five Years’ War and how poorly that turned out for the griffon kingdoms. I seem to remember that the military casualties on your side were over five times of our own. As for the damage to your civilian population, well, I think we both know how disastrous that was.”

The High King was roused to respond. “We have grown much stronger since then. Our armies are thorough in their training and in the doctrines of war.”

The Inquisitor shifted his glare to the red-crested griffon. He narrowed his eyes at Lucien and twisted his mouth into a bitter grimace. “I do believe there is a young daughter of yours studying in Cloudsdale as part of a little cultural exchange project. Am I right?”

Lucien was visibly taken aback by this sudden comment, but quickly recovered with a fierce scowl. “Threaten me and my nation all you want, unicorn, but don’t you dare presume to threaten my family.”

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’ then,” the black-clad stallion smiled wryly. “In any case, consider it a gift that she remains in Cloudsdale. I shall post agents making sure she is well cared for.”
The griffon snarled; his plumage curled in a hostile gesture. “I will not tolerate your insults, Equestrian. You have come to my home as a guest – sharing our fire and eating our food – and you try to intimidate my household. You will do well to remember your place.”

“And you would do well to remember yours, griffon,” the Inquisitor retorted, black fire in his eyes. “You may have learned from the mistakes of our past conflicts and improve your military, but our armies will still crush you. If you dare try to plant your flag in the West, then we will retaliate quickly and mercilessly.”

The angered voices of the griffon kings broke out again, some rose slightly out of their thrones – ready to pounce on the stallion. The guards surrounding the table too seemed ready to draw their weapons, talons wrapped firmly around the hilts of their swords. Behind him, the Inquisitor’s own Blackcloak entourage remained silent and still, but their master knew that at the sign of movement they would leap to the slaughter. ‘Hold,’ he told them, the voice of his mind projected into their heads. ‘I would rather this not turn into a massacre.’

They obeyed silently and the Inquisitor mentally went through his plans in meticulous fashion. The griffons, it seemed, were reacting as expected; that meant that this diplomatic mission would soon have to be cut short and he would need to stoke the flames just a little more. The fire in his eyes died as sat back down in the seat and gave a short smirk. The High King saw this gesture and gave a slow, careful nod to his fellows. The guards’ claws left their weapons and the kings settled back down in their thrones. Lucien cleared his throat.

“I think we have both made our governments’ positions clear on the matter of the Great Western Wilds. Perhaps it is best we move on to less volatile matters?” he suggested, his gravelly voice betraying a hint of hope.

The Inquisitor shook his head solemnly, smirking still. “I am sorry, Your Majesty. I think it would be best that I return to Canterlot, where my absence has gone on for long enough. Another diplomatic team can meet with your representatives at a later date to discuss more minor points of interest.”

The stallion stood up and looked to the Overwatch mare on his right, gesturing her over to the bottle of liquid magic. “I am again sorry, Your Majesty,” he said, voice heavy with sarcasm. “I’m afraid we cannot accept such a generous gift.” Tension filled the air as the mare whisked the bottle off the table. A stiff, heavy silence fell over the griffons as they held their breaths all together, eyes widening at the blatant insult. The exchanged gifts were supposed to remind each party of their amicable meeting; refusing the exchange was, to the griffons, as hostile an act as a physical blow. The Blackcloaks closed the chest of feathers and pushed it back toward the kings, ensuring there could be no mistaking their intent.

“Leave now, Equestrian,” he growled.

The ashen pony bowed mockingly to the gathered lords and abruptly whirled around to the entrance. He marched away from the table, flanked by his retinue of loyal Overwatch guards. As he prepared the spell to transport them all back to Canterlot, a victorious grin grew on his face.

============
 
The grass brushed against Twilight’s hooves as they waved in the stiff morning breeze. She stood in the willow grove – their usual place of learning – with the Empress lying down several metres behind her. The light of the Bright Moon was particularly strong that night, and the grove had hanging in its branches several lamps. Twilight could see the area around her clearly. The unicorn braced herself with a slightly wider stance and lowered her head, aiming her horn at the target before her. A casket of spherical weights lay open in front of her. She held her breath and focused.

“Relax, Twilight. You’re far too tense,” Nightmare Moon instructed. “Breath slowly; control your body. The spell will come more easily.”

Twilight obeyed. Her shoulders drooped as she softened her posture. The tiny filly sucked in the sharp forenoon air and levelled her breathing. Closing her eyes, she concentrated and, one by one, a shimmering purple aura enveloped the weights. Twilight lifted each out of the box and drifted them closer to her. The weights were really quite light, but Twilight wasn’t sure whether this was how it was supposed to be for unicorn fillies her age, or if they were supposed to be much harder to lift.

Nightmare Moon nodded. “Well done. Your form is improving. Continue with the next step of the exercise.”

Furrowing her brow, Twilight guided the weights into several rows, then arranged them to form the edges of a cube. Twilight held this shape as best she could, each ball hanging in its place. After quite some time, Twilight began to sweat from the exertion, her vision growing blurry from the mental discipline needed. The balls began to tremble as she struggled to maintain the cube.

“Focus, my student, and breathe.”

Twilight realised she was holding her breath again and tried to relax her body while keeping her attention on the weights. The spheres were wobbling with her slipping control now, the whole cube slowly deforming as she struggled to keep her focus split so many ways. The unicorn foal bit her lip and tried to push each sphere that dipped out of its place back into position. As she did this, she shifted her concentration from others and they too became loose. She growled at the effort it took to maintain her shape.

“You may release them.”

She gave a relieved sigh and immediately let go. The cube frame collapsed and each ball dropped heavily to the ground with a ceremonious thud. Twilight sat down, panting slightly despite the lack of physical activity. The Empress smiled and floated a carton of Sweet Apple Acres brand apple juice to the filly, who sucked it down enthusiastically

“Well done, Twilight,” the alicorn said. “You’ve improved since our last time together.”

Twilight wasn’t too sure about that. What does levitating a bunch of weights have to do with magic? she thought. I want to learn the good stuff! She held her tongue, though. It was important to respect the Empress, who had thousands of years of experience and wisdom in her. Still, Twilight wanted to get on to what she thought of as “real magic” sometime soon. She had been meeting with the Empress over the past week and a bit, but she had yet to attempt a spell more advanced than what any unicorn could do. All her lessons consisted of levitation practice, mental exercises and creative problem solving, and nothing much else. While these were all fine to Twilight, she desired more and had expected her lessons with the Empress of Equestria to be much grander, with powerful spells and long-lost magics.

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” she said instead, unable to keep a hint of disappointment out of her voice. The Empress’s ears flicked toward her in curiosity.

“Is something wrong, Twilight?”

Twilight pawed the ground nervously with a forehoof. She almost denied it, but this was an opportunity. The Empress had asked, after all. Hesitantly, she replied. “Well… I was wondering… I mean, I’d just like to know when we’ll be moving on to the proper magic lessons.”

If the Empress was offended, she did not show it. Instead, the alicorn held a look of bemusement on her face. Twilight folded her legs under her body and lay down on the soft grass. Somehow, that expression was worse than a rebuke. It seemed to say she wasn’t… smart enough. That she was a disappointment. After a short but nonetheless awkward silence, Nightmare Moon spoke.

 “What makes this lesson not ‘proper’?” she asked, her voice careful and calm.

Twilight gulped. “Well, Your Majesty, I just wondered when I’ll be able to learn all the big spells and the powerful magic.”

Nightmare Moon furrowed her eyebrows, preparing for a lecture. The filly braced herself as if expecting a blow, focusing on the grass in front of her as she dragged the tip of a hoof in small circles through it.

“Twilight, I am giving you these exercises for a reason.”

“I… I know, Your Majesty, but…” Twilight swallowed again and hesitated while she mustered the courage to speak. “But I have the ability. You told me I’m very powerful, that I’m capable of great things.”

“Just because you have more power doesn’t mean you are automatically better at magic than anypony else. Granted, you have the special gift of a natural aptitude for magic, but that is beside the point.” The Empress gave her a knowing smile. “Even if a pony has infinite power and magical reserves, she can still fail at the most basic spells if she lacks control and focus.”

Twilight listened intently, nodding as she took in the alicorn’s words. It made sense – she felt first-hoof how difficult it was to maintain her concentration. She wondered what it would have been like to try to perfectly hold a spell that was much more complex than a simple levitation trick.

“That’s why you have been giving me all these exercises to do,” the filly clarified.

“Yes, Twilight. Practice is what makes the magician great.”

Twilight nodded in understanding again, but she still had more questions. “What about those creative activities and problem solving? The night before yesternight you had me drawing so many random things. How does that have anything to do with magic, Your Majesty?”

The midnight black alicorn raised her head, looking up in thought. “Imagination is a very important part of magic. Ingenuity can help a unicorn invent spells and apply both new and old ones to unusual situations. It’s what separates the technicians from the true sorcerers. These activities are designed to help you flex and develop your imagination so you can find better solutions.”

“I see.” Twilight pondered this, digesting the information. There was so much she didn’t know about applying magic. Twilight realised just how far she had to go before she could become a master in the magical arts. She was certain that she needed a lot more study and practice before then.

As she lay there thinking, a subtle telltale crackle in the air alerted Twilight to Nightmare Moon’s own activity. A shimmering coat of translucent purple covered the balls as the Empress lifted them off of the ground. Twilight kept her eyes glued on the demonstration as Nightmare Moon expertly contorted the weights into perfect, motionless figures.

“It is always good to practice the basics, I think. You cannot be the best you can be otherwise,” she said, the spheres flowing smoothly into flawless patterns at her will.

She concentrated and brought all the spheres together. As her horn flashed, the metal surfaces of the weights rippled like liquid. When they floated together, and the spheres touched each other, they merged rather than stopping. Soon all the balls were gone, absorbed into what was now one large shimmering sphere of liquid metal. Another flash, and the rippling stopped – the ball solidified. Setting the large round weight to the ground, Nightmare Moon gave a proud smirk to Twilight.

“That way, you can excel at more advanced spells,” she said.

Twilight stared, awestruck, at the results. Overwhelming curiosity dragged her over to the metal ball, which she tapped experimentally with a hoof. It was still solid. Must be some kind of phase transition spell, she assumed. She turned to the Empress, excitement twinkling in her eyes.

“Can I learn how to do that?” she asked.

“One night, Twilight,” the alicorn smiled. “But for now, I think I’ve made it clear why we need to focus on the basics first.”

They continued with the exercises after that. Twilight lifted the new giant weight, seeing how long she could hold it. Nightmare split the weight whenever Twilight finished with her practice. The actual lifting was pretty easy, as Twilight found. The Empress said she had phenomenal reserves of magical strength within her. What was difficult was trying to balance each sphere as the Empress divided it again and again. The lavender filly began to wonder if there was a way she could pick up multiple objects without having to keep her focus on all of them at once. The thought of not having to constantly think about what she was holding appealed to her. She was already getting a headache from all this.

The next part of the lesson involved problem solving and more mental exercises. Nightmare Moon would present a practical problem for Twilight to solve in as many ways as she could.

“You are in a locked room, with no windows and no furniture. It is concrete, or stone, and not too large – around sixteen square metres in area. The only way out is a locked door which has been hexed with plenty of counter-spells; enough for you to exhaust yourself for weeks trying to find a way to open it. The floors, ceiling and walls are also hexed, so you cannot dig or blast your way through them using magic.” Nightmare Moon raised a brow at Twilight as she continued. “How do you escape from the room?”

Twilight bent her head in thought, before looking back up to the Empress. “What is the door like? Does it have a viewing hole or something like that, or a window?”

“It does have a rectangular viewing hole with a sliding cover, but other than that it is blank and featureless – no handle either. It is locked by a single large deadbolt.”

Twilight nodded and bowed her head, delving into her thoughts. Her first idea would be to teleport out of the room. She knew it was too simple for the alicorn’s taste, but she suggested it nevertheless, and it was expectedly shot down. This meant that the room was virtually inescapable. So my solution needs to stay inside the cell... “I can use an invisibility spell so they think I've escaped and leave the door open!” she declared.

“Do you know an invisibility spell?” the Queen of the Night asked archly.

“No,” Twilight sighed. How do I escape a room where I can’t blink out from, or dig through, and where the door is impenetrable? Twilight knitted her brow in frustration. Nightmare Moon gave such impossible problems. There was no solution. Why should she even try to escape? That thought led to another question: Why am I in there in the first place? She briefly wondered if following this train of thought would seem like quibbling over details, but the Empress had never discouraged her from investigating every possibility.

She voiced the question to Nightmare Moon, who was watching her with an intent, catlike gaze. The alicorn allowed the corners of her mouth to curl upwards very slightly. “You’re held captive by a group of ponies who want to ransom you.”

“Then I'll pay the ransom!” she answered with a grin. Nightmare Moon let out a throaty chuckle.

“A valid option,” she allowed. “Though it hardly counts as escape if you are released by your captors.”

The filly pressed her lips together. Held for ransom. Which would mean… “Then they wouldn’t want me to be hurt? Because I’d be less valuable to them?” Nightmare simply nodded, allowing the little unicorn to come to her own conclusion. Her smile grew larger and more encouraging.

“Do they come around to check on me then? To give me food and water?” Twilight felt a smirk of her own sprouting up on her face.

“Yes, they keep an eye on you through the viewing slide in the door.”

“So all I would have to do is cast a spell that gives me the symptoms of a disease bad enough that they would come in to check on me,” she answered, giving a victorious grin. “Then I can hit them with an offensive spell.”

The Empress smiled warmly, but rebuffed her answer. “What if they have shields against your little attack?”

Frustration growing, Twilight’s grin faltered, but she aimed to make her answer work. “Then I would use a sleeping spell.”

“And if they have wards against those?” Nightmare Moon asked.

“Then… then I’d just make a break for it!” Twilight sighed, exasperated at her teacher’s obtuseness. Her sense of victory had now completely vanished.

The black-coated alicorn chuckled and shook her head slowly. “I’m afraid these ponies will simply grab you with magic if you try to run.”

“Then what else can I do by then?” Twilight suppressed an irate groan.

“Well, you could let them take you to an infirmary, or whatever place they would use to treat you,” Nightmare moon suggested. “At least then you could plan your next move.”

“That’s not a solution though, I’m still in captivity!”

“But you did escape the room,” Nightmare Moon shrugged.

Twilight harrumphed. She did not like problem solving at all. It was always like this. No matter what solution she came up with, the Empress would poke holes in it, even having to invent the most unlikely situations in which her plans would fail. Twilight had to make the solution more and more audacious each time.

“These scenarios are implausible,” the small filly complained. “I mean, when would there ever be that many charms in place? You're... you're cheating just to make it complicated!”
Nightmare Moon simply gave a calm, sympathetic smile. “While it is good to remember that the simplest solution is often the best, a sorceress must know how to apply her imagination and ingenuity to solve even a seemingly insoluble problem. A single spell and the creativity to apply it to a hundred situations will serve you far better than a hundred spells used in only the most obvious way. Learning new spells is trivial compared to learning how to think like a master mage.”

Nightmare Moon rose and led Twilight down the winding garden paths as the lesson continued, leaving the levitation spheres behind with long, graceful strides. Twilight found many distractions along the way. Despite her fascination with the Empress’ lectures, the unicorn found her attention drifting to the many things that were happening around her. The gardens were abuzz with activity, whether from ponies or from wildlife. The patterned stone path acted as a thoroughfare for many wandering residents and workers of the Imperial Palace. The groundskeepers trimmed the hedges, moulded into elegant shapes, and pruned the artfully-positioned. Twilight found it curious that there were sometimes entire rows of plants that seemed to have been meticulously sculpted to aesthetic perfection and in other areas there were simply wild masses of vegetation studded with colourful buds and flowers.

A dapper pair of nobles parted to allow them passage, bowing almost to the turf as the Empress passed. Twilight noticed that many of the nobles walked with their necks craned uncomfortably, noses in the air and eyes apparently closed. How do they get around without bumping into things? Are nobles capable of echo-location? she wondered, suppressing a giggle.

The purple filly caught a glimpse of Duke Blueblood strutting along with his son. They were talking, but she couldn’t hear their words. Ever so slightly, she scooted closer to Nightmare Moon and turned away from the two unicorn aristocrats, in case they caught her staring. Their presence reminded her of a question she had been meaning to ask the Empress.

“Your Majesty,” she interjected when Nightmare Moon next paused. “How come Blueblood is a prince? I looked in the genealogies, but I couldn't find when you married one of his–”

“I’ve never married,” the alicorn cut her off sharply, eyes wide with surprise and something that looked almost like anger.

The foal cringed in the Empress's shadow, babbling a hurried apology. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I didn’t–”

“No, I’m not married, Twilight,” the alicorn repeated. Though her voice was not raised or angry, it was nonetheless strained and carefully flat. “I never have been. Nor do I have any children.” The black mare took a steadying breath and continued more gently, though her tone held the finality of a royal edict. “Please… don’t ask about it again.”
“I’m sorry,” Twilight repeated and lowered her eyes.

“It’s all right, Twilight,” Nightmare Moon sighed. The Empress began walking again, and her student tailed her dutifully. They meandered through the garden in silence for a time, and all the while Twilight grew increasingly worried that her lesson would be cut short. Then, as they crossed a bridge over a small stream that jutted out from the pool, Nightmare Moon paused and broke the quiet. “I know you’re curious about these things, but my past contains many bad memories which I would rather forget.”

Hearing some warmth come back into the Empress’ voice, Twilight looked back up to her and changed her tack slightly, careful to avoid the painful past. “But if Blueblood’s not family, then why is he a Prince?”

“When I first came to power, I needed a castle and some land to establish my capital. Canterlot was a prime choice, and I so took it from the Duke – the Bluebloods’ ancestor,” Nightmare Moon explained. “In return, I recognised him and his descendants as the 'Princes and Princesses of Unicorns' and gave them a few extra privileges.”

“Did you have to give them titles, though?” she glowered as she thought of the younger Blueblood, head held high with a kind of smarmy pompousness as he strode along with his father.

“I felt that at least some sort of compensation was in order, so that they would not be too bitter about the move,” the Empress chuckled. “It’s funny, in a way – the title is worth nothing without the weight that others lend it, but they still seem to prefer it over the land.”

“They’re kind of mean,” Twilight knitted her brow. “Prince Blueblood was really rude to me earlier this week.”

“I know, but that’s what happens when somepony is raised to believe that they’re a higher, better class of pony than others just because they have money, land and the privilege of a title. Duke Blueblood can be just as bad in his own way,” said the Empress.

The pair's wanderings brought them to a bench where one of the groundskeepers had laid out his lunch. The stallion almost choked on his dandelion and lettuce sandwich when he noticed Nightmare Moon so close by. Immediately, the pony leapt up from his seat, hurriedly bowed to his monarch. The alicorn smirked, but Twilight smiled sweetly over her shoulder as they passed the earth pony, leaving him to his break. They entered a less trafficked part of the garden, silence stretching as they left behind the bustle of the main path. This close to the edge of the plateau, clouds of spray billowed up from the first cataract of one of Canterlot's great waterfalls, refracting pale rainbows in the moonlight. Dense hedges and the roar of the cascade covered any noise besides the clop of their own hooves and quiet birdsong.

“Your Majesty, if Blueblood is so mean, why does he get to be so high up in the government?” Twilight asked suddenly.

Nightmare Moon sighed. “It’s part of being linked to the Royal Family. They hold enormous influence over many important and powerful ponies. If I don’t give them some concessions, they can make governing Equestria very difficult for me.”

Twilight was surprised by this admission. The idea that Nightmare Moon – most powerful equine in the world and custodian of the night – could be pressured by her underlings was a thought that was completely alien to Twilight. She seemed so beyond the constraints and vices of normal ponies; an untouchable force that commanded respect and loyalty from all.

“But can’t you just tell them what to do and they’ll have to do it?” the filly asked. “I mean, you’re so strong and if they try to disobey you can just, I don’t know… banish or imprison them or something.”

The alicorn winced, though this reaction passed over Twilight’s head. She sighed and shook her head lightly.

“It just doesn’t work like that, Twilight. I used to think it did, but even if I could use force to get ponies to do what I want, they still found ways of making things harder than they should be. Strength is, I found, not everything when it comes to ruling. You must also have tact and wiles if you are going to rule properly.”

Twilight was not sure if she could get used to the idea that the Empress needed to manoeuvre around her own government officials. She would have much preferred it if Nightmare Moon had absolute control over the politics in Canterlot. The unicorn didn’t much like the thought of ponies like Duke Blueblood being able to throw their weight around.

Nightmare Moon smiled reassuringly, seeing the perturbed look on her students face. “If it makes you feel better, Twilight, as Empress I do have everypony listening to me and obeying diligently most of the time. Anyway, how have you been finding life at the palace, besides the rude behaviour of local lordlings?”

Twilight pushed away her musings and beamed at the Empress. “Oh, it’s been wonderful, Your Majesty! The library is amazing, and the gardens are beautiful. It’s so nice to read outside. Everypony’s been so nice to me as well; so polite. Miss North Star has been trying to get me to come to her chantry services and she wants to introduce me to her Cult Imperia thing, though–”

“She wants to do what?” Nightmare Moon drew her shoulders up, tensing at the filly’s statement.

“She wants to show me the Cult Imperia,” Twilight repeated, her tone sweet and innocent, oblivious to the fire that was growing in Nightmare Moon’s eyes. “I think it’ll be really exciting to learn about.”

“I will have to have a talk with the Hierophant before you go anywhere near the Cult Imperia. If I am convinced that it will be beneficial to your education, I will accompany you to a service myself; you are not to attend one alone,” the Queen of the Night said in a firm voice.

Twilight blinked in surprise at the pronouncement. “Yes, Your Majesty?” she said, her tone inviting further elaboration, but the Empress said nothing more on the issue. She gave a mental shrug and decided to change the topic. “Mister Silverstar has been really nice to me.”

“Oh?” The warmth was back in Nightmare Moon’s voice, which brought back Twilight’s smile. She nodded.

“He’s been asking me about what I’ve been studying and how I am. He’s a lot nicer than some other ponies and he’s really fun to talk to.”

“Well, he certainly does have a certain gruff, down-to-earth charm about him,” the Empress said. “He’s been taking an interest in you, then?”

“Oh yes, he’s been really friendly,” the purple little unicorn chimed. The Marshal was one of her favourite ponies around the palace. He seemed like a gruff old stallion, but on the inside, he was really quite caring.

“That’s good to know. I’ve heard that the Marshal has always been good around foals.”

“Does he have any fillies or colts my age then?”

“No,” Nightmare Moon sighed. “His wife died in foalbirth. I don’t think he’s ever remarried.”

Twilight recoiled, her ears flattening at the horrible news. “Oh…” she trailed off, unsure of what to say next. They were both unsure; the alicorn’s answer left a gloomy air hanging over their heads.

The teacher and the student found themselves having followed the path to its completion, rounding back on the more familiar parts of the gardens. Twilight realised that the gardens were more uniform the closer they were to the palace; like a planned, geometric art piece with the very ground as its canvas. The outer bounds of the palace grounds were wilder and less tended to, but no less beautiful.

Then, she remembered a question that she had been meaning to ask the Empress all night. Mentally chastising herself for forgetting until now, she bit her lip as she thought of a way to properly phrase it. The silence grew between them, and Nightmare Moon was looking somewhat uncomfortable at the lull in conversation at such a depressing note.

“Your Majesty,” the foal began. “Would it be all right if I invite a friend from the foster home over?”

Nightmare Moon gave a soft smile. “Of course, Twilight. You can even have her over tomorrow.”

“Actually, Your Majesty, it’s a colt,” Twilight replied. “His name’s Flash.”

“Really? I would have thought that you’re too young for a coltfriend,” the Empress grinned, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

“N-no!” Twilight’s eyes widened at the assumption. “He’s just a friend!”

“Of course, Twilight, I was just kidding,” Nightmare Moon winked at her flustered student. The filly gave a weak smile in return.

“I knew that!” Twilight squeaked, her cheeks feeling hot. “I was just playing along!” It was a hopeless ploy against another foal her age; much less the millenia-old alicorn, but pride compelled the words.

“Indeed,” the Empress gave her a knowing grin.

A sharp crack of thunder rescued Twilight from her embarrassment, drawing her eyes upward to where a bright yellow pegasus mare was berating a brown stallion. They were so distant that the scolding played out in pantomime, but it was clear that he had been handling his cloud too roughly.

“It seems the weather pegasi are right on schedule,” the Empress said. A fat drop of rain landed on Twilght's nose, making her jump. “And that means our session is over for tonight. Hold still while I get us inside.”

Twilight blinked confusion at the dragon-eyed alicorn. “What do you mean by tha–?”

Before her eyes, Nightmare Moon evaporated into a glittering blue-violet cloud. The vapour swirled into a ring around Twilight, then began to spin like a tornado. The process took only a second or two; the whirling vortex scooped her up and collapsed around her in a flash of indigo light.

The next instant, they were inside the palace, in the main atrium of the Royal Apartments. Nightmare Moon stood as steady and regal as ever, but Twilight's stomach was reeling. She staggered a few steps in a dizzy circle, then threw up.

“Whoops. Sorry,” was all the Empress of Equestria could say.

============

Questions, Comments, Concerns and Criticisms are welcome!

Written by Municipal Engines, Assisted and Edited by LordOfTheWrongs
> The Sky in the Ceiling
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chapter Seven:
The Sky in the Ceiling


The Empress of Equestria, seated on her high throne of obsidian glass, scowled as a nonchalant Inquisitor hopped up onto the dais and settled into his own throne. The stallion looked up at her and flashed a sly grin. He seemed oblivious to the foul mood that was so plain on his ruler’s face. Oblivious or just deliberately ignoring it? she thought sullenly.

He lay back on his cushioned throne, hanging his hooves over the arm, and floated forward a teapot and a pair of cups from the tray at her side. “Cream and sugar?” he asked casually, as if nothing were amiss. Nightmare Moon didn’t reply. She usually used their customary weekly meetings to relax; even though the Inquisitorf was her subordinate and their discussions most often centred on domestic and foreign affairs, she usually used the time to take just a bit of a breather. Nightmare Moon found it easy to unwind during their talks. It was all just so familiar with the Inquisitor.

But tonight, their discussion would be far from casual. Nightmare took hold of hers and floated it up to her seat, setting it down beside her. At last, the Inquisitor spoke.

“Is something bothering you, Your Majesty?” he asked, flicking his gaze up to her. He took a sip from his tea.

“As a matter of fact, Inquisitor, something is,” she replied in a slightly bitter tone.

Setting his cup to the side, he regarded her with his full attention. The stallion’s face became apologetic and blithe. “And that would be?”

“I received word from the Rodorian embassy tonight.”

The Inquisitor scratched the back of his neck. “Ah…”

“‘Ah’ indeed,” Nightmare Moon narrowed her eyes. “He tells me that he would not take any more insults from the Equestrian government again and so they decided to expel several of our own ambassadors. I was forced to do the same in kind. What did you do, Inquisitor?”

The Inquisitor straightened up. “Nothing at all, Your Majesty! They made outrageous claims against sovereign Equestrian territory and I simply rebuffed them. The negotiations went nowhere and in the end they threw my delegation out.”

The Empress resisted the urge to pound her forehead with a hoof – such an action would be, though perfectly suitable for this situation, utterly unacceptable behaviour from a monarch. She let out a growling, irate sigh and fixed her eyes with the Inquisitor’s own dark orbs. This would be a stare that neither of them would flinch from, but she did it nonetheless. Protocol demanded she be intimidating in these situations. To counter her icy glare, the stallion draped a smile over his face so boyish and charming that it would melt the hearts of many mares throughout the world. But Nightmare Moon had seen it too many times to be impressed. There would be no flattering his way out of this, she decided.

“That meeting was supposed to be rapprochement between our peoples,” she said. “I have reports from the General Staff that the new diplomatic situation with the griffons is now fragile enough to warrant sending several legions to the northern border forts.”

“That’s good, I’ve always thought the northern outposts had been a bit lacking in horsepower. Some of them are quite literally abandoned ruins, so we could also invest in rebuilding eff–”

“Inquisitor!”

The ice in her voice wrenched the stallion from his musings. In truth, Nightmare Moon had barely raised herself above her usual speaking level, but it was enough for him to know that this was the time to be serious. He regarded her with full attention and an expression of invitation for her to talk.

“I sent you out there with a clear mission in mind. You failed that mission and now I am going to have problems with the griffons. Those problems will be yours, understood?”

“Understood, Your Majesty,” he muttered.

“And I expect you to give me a full report on the talks with the griffon Kings,” the mare said. “I don’t know why you haven’t got around to writing me one already.”

“I’ve been busy, Your Majesty,” the Inquisitor said. His voice sounded strained – she knew he hated explaining himself. I would have thought he would be used to it by now. “I apologise.”

Nightmare Moon sighed, her anger dissipating somewhat. “I expected better from you, Inquisitor.” He winced; it was one thing for her to be angry at him, and another to scold him like she would a misbehaving foal. “You’ve proved resourceful and efficient in the past. How could you have blundered so severely?”

“I must be getting old,” the grey unicorn mumbled.

Nightmare Moon sipped at her tea, a thoughtful crease settling on her forehead. It was definitely odd. The Inquisitor had never failed so spectacularly at something that should have been so simple as flattery and ingratiating humility. A foul thought came to her. Could it be that the Inquisitor meant to fumble the talks; to get back at her for sending him there in the first place? No. She shook away the insidious thought. No matter how far we go with our little games, the Inquisitor is far too intelligent and loyal to ever go that far. The Empress took another sip from her cup and tried to rid herself of her suspicions. But one question clung to her.

"Inquisitor...” she asked, her tone dangerously casual. “What gift did the griffons offer?"

“Pardon me, Empress?”

“The gift the griffons gave us,” she snapped, her voice suddenly as sharp as a knife. “We both know the griffons exchange gifts at every diplomatic meeting. So, what did they give us this time?” She raised an insistent brow.
The Inquisitor pressed his lips together tightly. “They gave us… a collection of first-edition tomes and scrolls from the founding of their kingdoms.”

“Oh, and where are they?” the Empress pressed.

The Inquisitor let out a breath of air. “In the Overwatch storage facility.”

Nightmare Moon sighed. “Did you really think you could keep them for yourself?”

“No, Your Majesty,” the stallion managed a smile. It eased the Empress somewhat. “I wouldn’t think to do that.”

“I should hope you wouldn’t. Well… now that that’s settled—” She gave him a glare that suggested this had better be the case. “—I’d like to just sit here and enjoy my tea.” She scowled down into her cup and finished the brown, soothing liquid with a single gulp. It was hot, but the faint burn down her throat felt purifying. As she prepared another cup, Nightmare Moon stole a glance at her chancellor, who was staring off across the room with a distant expression. It should have angered her more than it did, but she knew the Inquisitor was not one to be saddened or angry that he failed a task, or that she admonished him for it. He would fix it for her. He always did.

“How have you been, Inquisitor?” she asked suddenly after a long silence.

He turned to her, the usual insouciant grin once again playing on his face. “Busy, Empress, very busy. I’ve a meeting with some representatives from the Petriculturists’ Guild tomorrow.”

“Who is the Guild President these nights?” Nightmare Moon wondered aloud. “Last I recall, it was a stallion named Axe-something-or-other.”

“Mister Stone Axe is ill, Empress. The Vice President, Clyde Pie, will be heading the talks in his place.” The Inquisitor gave a small, good-humoured groan. “He’s very boring. Smart, knows a lot of facts, but he can go into detail and a when he gets talking, there’s no shutting him up. The last time I saw him, he talked for half an hour comparing metamorphic rocks of igneous and sedimentary origin. Agh, you see? I learned more than I ever wanted to know!”

“It sounds like you will have a fun night tomorrow,” the Empress smiled.

The Inquisitor raised an eyebrow and grimaced. “Indeed.”

“Don’t be so glum, Inquisitor, I myself am meeting with the heads of the Great Houses to discuss Twilight Sparkle.”
His ears cocked at this. “Oh? I haven’t been told about this.”

“It’s nothing to worry about,” Nightmare Moon shrugged. "The Houses have been uppity ever since they discovered an orphan filly is my protégée – Blueblood’s doing, no doubt. I am just gathering them together to clarify things. You do not have to come.”

“Oh but I want to, my queen,” he cooed, flashing his teeth in a juvenile grin. “After all, won’t it be best if I’m there at your side, backing your words?”

“Hmm… I suppose I can’t stop you if you wish to attend, but it really isn’t necessary,” she replied.

A knock sounded at the door, echoing throughout the throne room. Nightmare Moon readied herself for yet another interruption to her leisure time and called the pony in. One of the doors opened, allowing a pegasus into the chamber. Dressed in the creaseless leather uniform of the Imperial Overwatch with marsh-green fur peeking past the edges, Nightmare Moon recognised this pony as the Inquisitor’s right-hoof mare. Or should I say, his glorified secretary, she corrected herself. The mare bowed before the both of them. Nightmare Moon noticed the Blackcloak’s bow was lower for the Inquisitor than for her.

“What is it, Thundersong?” the Inquisitor asked.

“As per your wishes, Master, I am here to inform you that the colt Orion has arrived,” the mare said.

“Very well. You may leave,” the Inquisitor casually flicked a hoof, motioning to the door. Once more she bowed to the chancellor and the Empress and marched out of the throne room.

Nightmare Moon gave the stallion an arch look. “You are keeping tabs on my student?”

He returned the look with a lazy smile. “Empress, I keep tabs on everypony. It is my job, after all.”

“Still, this is unsettling, Inquisitor. I can understand the Overwatch taking precautions with the members of Parliament, but you need not bring such scrutiny on a foal who is in my care.”

“I understand, Your Majesty. I will be sure to limit my subordinates’ observations to what is only necessary to make sure Twilight is protected,” he lowered his head in a short bow.

“See that you do,” Nightmare Moon replied solemnly.

Her words may have seemed threatening, but her voice was not. She had learned quite some time ago that the Inquisitor did not respond to verbal threats or outright intimidation from her. Instead, there was a silent mutual understanding that she would find special ways to punish him should he displease her. As his pride was his most prized possession, such punishments were always degrading.

That thought returned the Empress to mulling over how she would punish the Inquisitor for his failure with the griffons. She could always saddle him with more work, but the unicorn seemed to have a limitless energy for such things. She didn’t even think he did much to relax besides spend time with her and read. Nightmare briefly wondered what hobbies the stallion had, but suppressed a shudder and quickly turned her thoughts elsewhere. The secrecy of the Overwatch spawned many a dark rumour which she did not desire to investigate. She shook her head and focussed on the consequences of his failure.

It was too great a mistake on his part for the equivalent of a stern talking-to and a cuff around the ear. The Empress of Equestria gathered what she knew of the Inquisitor. It was admittedly sparse; despite so many years of service she had lost count. He was a proud pony; Nightmare could always see the ever so subtle winces he gave whenever he was forced to accommodate the most obnoxious and aggravating of ponies. A smile came to the alicorn’s lips as she thought of at least one part of his punishment.

“Inquisitor,” she began, snapping the stallion out of his own contemplations. She briefly wondered what he could have been thinking before flicking the trivial question away. “I have decided that, as of tomorrow, you should really spend time making Twilight more comfortable around you and introducing her to palace life. As a result, I think it best that you should make yourself open to her. Encourage her to ask questions and find activities for the both of you while I am not available. If she needs anything, do not hesitate to personally accommodate her.”

The Inquisitor remained stoic as he heard this. “So I’m to be her personal assistant.”

“In addition to your other duties,” the Empress smirked. “And don’t think this will let you out of even a fraction of the mountain of extra work that will undoubtedly come our way.”

“Ancestors forbid,” he said, smirking back and rolling his eyes.

Nightmare Moon’s smile shrank as she closed her eyes and focused. Being magically attuned to the cycles of the moon – and certain other celestial bodies – she had an innate sense of time. Checking her internal clock, she nodded to herself and looked at the Inquisitor.

“I will slip out briefly to take young Orion to Twilight. I shall return in a few minutes,” she announced. The grey stallion simply bobbed his head and drank his tea.

Standing up, Nightmare Moon evaporated, allowing herself to fall into a cloud of ethereal indigo. She sped out through the cracks under the door and gusted through the corridors and rooms of the palace until she arrived at the entrance, where a young colt was waiting, supervised by one of the silver-clad guardsponies.

The smoke struck the ground in front of the colt and splashed against the floor, spreading and roiling up into a swirling, opaque cloud. Then the sparkling purple smoke parted and the Empress of Equestria appeared right before the eyes of the ponies mingling in and around the entrance to the palace. A collective jolt rippled through those gathered, save for the ever stoic guards, followed by a wave of bows; Nightmare Moon noted that the colt eyed her suspiciously as he did so – perhaps thinking she would not notice.

“You may all rise,” she said, forcing a smile to stop tugging at her lips. Nightmare Moon looked down at the earth pony colt.

He was a funny thing, rather large for his age as the Empress judged it. His light blue mane was scruffy and unkempt, its bristly hair slightly swept backwards; it had a somewhat bedraggled, coarse look. He was white, like a blizzard’s snow or a marble statue. But what struck the alicorn about him were his eyes. They were alert, wary, and with an icy blue gaze that was as cold as winter stone. She couldn’t help but stare at them, and the more she did so, the more they revealed. They could be soft and even handsome, she supposed, but they seemed to hide something – a mask of detachment thrown up by a mind that had seen too much far too early. The Empress wondered what they would look like when the colt was reunited with Twilight.

“I presume you are Orion.” She gave him no question to answer, only a statement.

The colt gave a short, barely-courteous bob of a bow. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

Nightmare Moon smiled a false smile. Orion unsettled her; he seemed too cold, too defiant to be the type of pony she wanted to mingle with her student. Still, as long as Twilight’s happy with her friend, I shouldn’t really complain. She smirked at that. Who would I complain to, anyway? The Ancestors would find it petty and the Inquisitor would find it amusing.

Nightmare knew that she was seen as perhaps a little too authoritarian by some of her subjects, and those who thought so were usually polite enough to keep it to themselves. The colt moved stiffly, as if wary of revealing even a hint of his thoughts through his body language. Which itself revealed all too much. Could one so young see her in such a mistrustful light, or was he simply wary because he was in the presence of royalty? The Empress pushed these questions to the back of her mind.

“Twilight Sparkle is waiting for you in her room. Follow me, if you will,” Nightmare Moon said, and turned to lead the colt deeper into the palace.

==========

Twilight darted around her bedroom, making sure everything was spotless. Of course, Orion would care little for whether the room was tidy or not, but she doubted he would even be able to move for all the mess on the floor. Mountains of books, broken quills and paper – both scrunched up and intact – stood as testament to her latest bout of binge studying. Dirty plates were left stacked in the corner. Twilight stopped and glowered at the mess. Maids and servants usually cleaned all rooms of the palace, but Twilight had asked that nopony tidy hers after the first time they re-shelved all her reference material. It was a decision she already regretted.

Licking her lips, the foal closed her eyes and her brows knitted in concentration. She knew she always made funny faces when she focused hard on a spell, but she couldn’t help it. Spending any thought on keeping her face calm just made the magic that much harder! A spark of magic flashed and the books all rose. Dividing her focus between dozens of different objects was difficult, but her practice sessions with the Empress had demanded far more of her. In quick succession, Twilight slotted the books into the shelves without regard to which belonged where. Tomes that had been brought over from the library were quickly and sneakily stacked them underneath the bed. I’ll take them back later, she promised silently. Twilight turned and stared at the scattered papers, and then at the clock. They followed the books under the bed, though Twilight offered them a murmured apology.

The dirty dishes slid into a cupboard where she prayed she wouldn’t forget them. Just as she finished making her bed (so much easier with magic!), there was a string of knocks at her door. “Come in!” she called.

Empress Nightmare Moon swept into the room, but Twilight had eyes only for the familiar white and blue colt peering between her hocks. A smile spread across his lips and his eyes twinkled for a moment with an emotion that Twilight could have sworn looked like relief.

“Orion!” the filly whinnied. Nightmare Moon took a quick step out of the way, giving a bemused snort as Twilight scampered up to him and pressed her neck to Orion’s in a warm, excited embrace. “Hey, Twilight,” the earth pony replied. The purple foal stepped back from him with a happy grin that stretched ear to ear. The Empress drew the beaming little unicorn’s eye as she turned to leave.

“Well, I think I can leave you two on your own,” the obsidian alicorn said. “If you need anything, Twilight, don’t hesitate to ask the servants. I, on the other hoof, will be busy for the rest of the night.”

“Yes, Empress; thank you, Empress,” Twilight chirped.

Nightmare Moon nodded and evaporated into a cloud of sparkling purple and streamed out of the room, drawing the door closed in her wake. Twilight and Orion were left alone.

“So... how have you been?” the filly began.

Shrugging, the colt gave his monosyllabic reply; “Fine.”

“Up to much since I, um, left?”

“Not really. Just studying,” he said. “It’s been kind of boring without you to talk to. Nopony else really shares my interests.”

“Don’t you have a new roommate?” asked Twilight.

“No, I asked Miss Loch if I could have a room on my own,” Orion let out a small, good-humoured huff. “She wasn’t very enthusiastic, but she came around eventually.”

An uncomfortable lull settled over the conversation. Twilight wracked her brain for any news that was new to Orion, but they had conversed so much through letters that little was left which he hadn’t heard before. Orion had been less forthcoming about his own life, though. Not that she expected life at the orphanage to suddenly become exciting behind her back, but she groped for a topic to at least get them talking again.

“So… how are things back at the home?” she asked. “Have you had any trouble from Blitz?”

"Oh, he and his lot have gone back to picking on everypony, but it's not so bad.” The colt shrugged the subject off. “How about you? You seem to be doing well."

“Yes, I’m very good, thanks. I have plenty to do,” Twilight grinned as she sucked in a deep breath of air. “There’s so much to read. The library is like a maze! You should see it, Orion. They probably have every kind of book ever written there. The shelves are really tall and they go on for miles. It’s about four floors, and they’re all packed with so many books! There’re always so many ponies there, but they all seem to be really clever – although I never talk to them – and they don’t make a sound. It’s really quiet and cosy; you’d love it!”

Orion stared for a few heartbeats, then snickered. "Yes, I think you might have mentioned something about that in your letters! Honestly, Twilight, have you even seen the rest of the castle?"

“Um.” She blinked and hesitated, scuffing the carpet with her hoof as her cheeks heated.

Orion’s eyes widened. "What, you really haven’t?!"

"Well, I've attended a couple of sessions of Parliament with the Empress, but they turned out to be kind of boring. The gardens are nice though, and there are... um… offices," the filly smiled pathetically.

"What about the chamber of the crown jewels? The Skylight Spire? The art galleries?"

Twilight shook her head. “No, I, uh… I guess I didn't think to."

“What about the observatory?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

She silently shook her head, hunching down toward the floor.

Orion rolled his eyes. “Honestly Twilight, I would have thought that’d be the first thing you go to – aside from the library.”

“I have a perfectly good telescope already,” the little lavender unicorn objected, pointing to the tripod set up on the balcony.

“I guess you do,” Orion gave her a small smile. “How about we join one of those tours you used to beg Miss Loch to take you on?”

Twilight slapped a hoof against her forehead. “Of course. Why didn’t I do that earlier?”

“I can’t imagine,” the colt deadpanned, casting a meaningful glance toward the walls full of books.

Twilight giggled and followed him out the door, then moved into the lead as her horn glowed to close the door behind her. She led the way through the maze of the palace halls. It was easy to get lost, but Twilight knew several routes well; a circuit flowing through the reception hall, the kitchens, the feasting hall, the throne room and the library, then back to the Residential Wing. Twilight was sure that was less than a tenth of the entire complex. As she passed, a longcase clock in the corridor solemnly bonged eleven o’clock. “Oh, no,” she groaned. “We missed it! Now we’ll have to wait a whole hour for the next one.”

“Come on, everypony! Gather ‘round!” a cheerful mare’s voice cried from a side hallway. Twilight and Orion traded a glance, grinned, and dashed off down the corridor toward the guide.

They halted where their hall met a vast, vaulted arcade lined with tall windows that let in the bright moonlight. A knot of ebullient foals and their long-suffering parents clustered before an earth pony mare the colour of a lemon with a curly blue mess of a mane. She beamed a pleasant smile while the adults shushed excited youngsters, then began her spiel in the sing-song tones that adults sometimes used to patronise children.

“You are currently standing in the Empress’s Gallery, which runs from the Royal Apartments to the Throne Room. As the name suggests, this is the route our beloved Empress takes every night to begin court.”

“Nuh-uh,” Twilight muttered as the guide went on to point out the frescoed ceiling. “She usually teleports so she doesn’t have to talk to Duke Blueblood.” Orion gave a flat-faced huff of a laugh. Then they peered up at the intricate painting above them. Apparently the pegasus artist had done it all while standing upside-down on the roof.

“We will end our tour,” the guide finished, “at the Royal Apartments, but for now, we proceed to the Throne Room itself. Keep up, please!”

As the group started off again, the young pair of foals slipped in at the back. The tour guide launched into a brief history of the castle, pointing out busts and paintings as they walked. Sketchy as the account was, to Twilight’s delight, she had heard little of it before. She knew the city’s general history from books, but classes at the foster home were disconcertingly lacking in proper academic studies. As far as Twilight was concerned, learning about cutie marks, social skills and “life lessons for foals” did not count as a true education.

The filly continued to pass snippets of personal experience to Orion as they walked. For his part, he held his tongue and nodded along with both the guide and her own whispers. The throne room, impressive as it might be, was old news to Twilight. Her eyes rose to the gallery, picking out the spot where she’d sat playing with her hooves for most of an hour, bored out of her skull while Duke Blueblood pontificated. Orion, for his part, looked all around with his usual blank expression except for a faint crease between his brows.

After that, a winding course up stairs and across bridges left Twilight as completely lost as the tourists. The guide was just finishing her tale of how the House of Blueblood, last surviving branch of the royal Platinum Dynasty of Unicornia, had gifted the castle of Canterlot to Nightmare Moon when the group came upon a large door to their left. It was massive and old and looked to be very important. If the elaborate, detailed carvings hadn’t hinted that to Twilight, then the large, equally ornate lock did. The yellow mare stopped abruptly and motioned to the door.

“This door marks the start of a passageway that leads deep into the mountain to the Hesperidium, the magical subterranean garden that was planted by an alicorn prince named Discus as a gift to his lover,” she said. “It is said that it was part of the many tasks he was given by his lover’s father, who wanted the young prince to prove he was worthy to court his daughter. He commanded Discus to find him an item brighter than the stars that grew from a child of a skyless land. So Discus dug a tunnel into Canterlot Mountain and found a natural wellspring of magic, where he planted a grove of enchanted apple trees that grow shining golden apples to this very night!”

The pregnant pause after the mare finished speaking let the group realise that they could ask questions. One grey, straight-maned earth filly put up a hoof.

“Yes dear?”

“Why is it locked? Can’t we go that way?” she asked.

“Excellent question! It is locked because the fruits are powerfully magical. Thieves have tried to steal them before, but without much success. For security’s sake, only the Empress is allowed beyond this door, and Her Majesty keeps the only key.” There was a collective groan in the crowd and the tour guide resumed her path to the crown jewels. “Moving on!” The grey filly hesitated, stretching out a hoof to lightly brush the surface of the door, then snatched it back and scurried after her mother.

The path took the group to the edge of the cliff and beyond, into towers that teetered miraculously over empty space. Several of the foals hesitated, peeking over the edges while the guide explained how enchantments held the structure together. Twilight flicked a glance toward Orion and strutted ahead, affecting an indifferent air in spite of the butterflies in her stomach. Still, she was glad when the guide led them back inside where she could pretend there was solid stone beneath her.

Wood, ancient and faded, dominated the place; no marble or granite tiles here. Beams and finely carved arches bespoke an area of the castle that was more reserved in character, but no less proud to be part of the Imperial Palace. The sense of ponderous antiquity, like an old grey mare with a lifetime of stories to tell, lent the place the feel of a museum.

In fact, that was exactly what it was. Display cases, plaques and paintings crowded the interior of the tower like nobles vying to stand as close as possible to their Empress, the Crown Jewels of Equestria. Several guards clad in steel and silver were posted there too, standing vigilant watch over the precious treasures of the monarchy. The sky-blue-haired mare whirled theatrically to face her followers.

“Here we are, the Crown Jewels Exhibits!” she cried in that sing-song voice that was beginning to irritate Twilight. “Please, feel free to wander around and take a gander. I’ll be right here if anypony has questions.”

Twilight and Orion split off toward the displays of jewelry and clothing. She was nearly blinded by the riot of sparkling colors and glittering metal shining from each display case. Every piece had so much history behind it. The plaques and pamphlets on every display called to the lavender filly like a choir of sirens. Wide-eyed with all the new information she could learn, Twilight giddily dashed to the nearest display.

One of these displays was the usual cases of jewellery taken from absorbed nations and the states of old. Among them was the Crown of Unicornia, with its white fur rim and broad, spade-shaped tines set with massive spherical amethysts. The Bluebloods, as Nightmare Moon had told Twilight, were constantly clamouring for the crown to be given to them as the “rightful heirs of the Unicornian throne”; a long-dead position. Beside it, incongruous in its spartan simplicity, was the iron war helmet of the Archons of ancient Pegasopolis; a bit of gold trim and a crest of stiff charcoal hair from the first Archon’s tail were its only concessions to ostentation. Finally, a velvet pillow bore a golden oval brooch, rather simplistic save for the crossed sickle and hammer of the now-defunct Old Earther Confederacy: the Chancellor’s symbol of office.

When she looked up from the Chancellery Brooch, Twilight realised that Orion was no longer beside her – he was two displays over, ogling a weapon. She rolled her eyes. Boys. The unicorn trotted over to the white colt, lightly brushing against him to get his attention. He turned to her, practically glowing with a small, tight smile.

“Look at that,” he said, nodding to the massive sword, which was encrusted with sapphires and white gold. The blade gleamed in the light, sharp as a hot razor. “It was given to the Empire as a peace offering from the griffons.”

“Are most of the Crown Jewels gifts?” Twilight asked.

“I think so,” he shrugged. “At least, all the interesting bits are.”

They shuffled over to the adjacent display, yet another gift. This time it was a peytral; a smooth slab of dark grey steel, rimmed with black-purple obsidian. No gold or fancy gemstone adorned it. The donators were the Konnicans, a nation of hardy ponies with a complex hierarchy and honour system. The dark piece of armour seemed fitting for such a warlike people. She skimmed the rest of the plaque, but an exotic piece of jewellery in the next display case caught her eye and she trotted over to get a better look.

This one was a wide, thick choker of heavy rose gold, the coppery metal inscribed with exotic zigzags and geometric patterns. Tiny rubies dotted the outer circumference, though numerous vacant sockets made it seem unfinished.

“This traditional royal necklace was gifted to Her Imperial Majesty by the ancient Sky-Fire Empire at the height of its power on the Zebrican continent. The most powerful and well-known ruler of this nation was Pharaoh Mbingu-hii-Machungu the Great, who wore the necklace into battle and added a ruby for every city-state he conquered. There are over a hundred in this piece,” Twilight read.

Orion leaned over to the plaque and after quickly scanning the Pharaoh’s name, said, “I did a report on him for extra credit in history.” He grinned. “His name is Zebrican for ‘heavens, this hurts’.”

Twilight looked at him, her eyebrows knitting in puzzlement. “Why was he called that?”

“Because that’s what his mother shouted when she was giving birth,” Orion blithely replied, eliciting a small giggle from the filly. One display rather unique amidst the precious metals and sparkling jewels drew her attention.

The display consisted only of two ponyquins dressed in elegant, shimmering gowns. One shone gold like the light of a lamp in the darkest hours of evening, while the other seemed to glow with its own soft light the colour of the Dull Moon. Both were oddly simple; their only decorations were swirling embroidery like the stylised branches of a leafy tree.

“Formal gowns,” Twilight read aloud from the plaque, “gold silk and spider silk with silver threads. These gowns were spun by the deer-folk as a gift to Her Imperial Majesty from the White Hart, Eternal Protector of the Forests and Great Prince of Cervidia.” She had never heard of this ‘White Hart’, so she made a mental note to read up on Cervidia or at least ask Nightmare Moon about him.

After reading her fill – a fascinating explanation of what the silkworms and spiders fed upon to create such thread, followed by some dressmaking details that only a fashionista would find interesting – Twilight moved on. The two continued through the exhibit, taking in the sights and calling one another’s attention to the items on display. They admired a shining platinum sceptre from Gallopfrey, apparently used for the occasion when the Empress would judge a case personally during Open Court. Orion seemed to take a macabre interest in the Gilded Horns of the last Bovini Autocrat. Twilight was split between horror and fascination as the earth pony explained how the golden horn-covers were taken as a trophy after the Empire of Equestria intervened to end the tyrant’s bloody, expansionist regime.

He was about to go into the unpleasant, exact details of how Minos the Mad would publicly roast his enemies in hollow bronze statues of himself when Twilight quickly sidled over to the next exhibit, hurriedly pointing out the strange drinking horn shaped like a snarling wolf. According to the plaque, it was a gift from the wolf-god Fenrir, lord of the faraway Canids, to commemorate the fifth century of the Empire’s existence.

“They actually managed to defeat a dragon that big?” Orion gasped as Twilight queasily read that it was carved from an actual dragon fang. I’ve never even heard of Fenrir before, she thought, swallowing her revulsion. I’ll have to find some books on world history tomorrow and see what these plaques are leaving out.

The two moved on down a long display case of smaller jewellery, mostly gifts from lesser states that were eventually absorbed into Equestria. Though they glittered and shone beautifully within their protective cases, they were a bit underwhelming after the earlier treasures. A large, golden orb on a pedestal caught her eye, however. Raised letters of the Ancient Equine tongue circled the equator. The words, according to the information kindly provided by the palace museum, translated as, “Salt of the Realm within the Aegis Globe”. It’s just a description of what the object is! The plaque told Twilight that soil from all provinces of Equestria – including some cloudstone from Cloudsdale – was packed inside that golden orb. Twilight remembered the Inquisitor mentioned it during one of their few conversations as something he had to place his hoof on during his inauguration as chancellor. It obviously had symbolic value, but for the moment the symbolism was lost on Twilight.

The colt and the filly stepped through a doorless archway into the final exhibition room. This chamber, unlike the rest, held only two display cases with plenty of room for ponies to crowd around. Each one was flanked by the intimidating pegasi of Nightmare Moon’s personal Honour Guard. They had identical coats of murky grey and catlike yellow eyes, but their most startling feature was their batlike wings. The Empress had assured her that the guards’ signature purple armour carried a suite of illusion and transformation spells which created their strange, identical appearance, and while it was comforting to know they were really just normal ponies, they still made her uneasy.

Even without the presence of Equestria’s elite warriors, Twilight could tell right away that the contents of this room were special. Twilight had been undergoing training with Nightmare Moon to enhance not just her endurance and mental skills, but also her natural ability to sense magic. Although all unicorns had it; most would not feel so much as a faint tickle. One had to practice their magical reception of spells and enchanted artefacts to get anything stronger. A sensation of raw, unbridled power struck her from both cases; a combined magical emanation as intense and overwhelming to her magical sense as a bolt of lightning was to the eye.

Tentatively, she took a step towards the display case on the left, peering at the objects within. They were two simple rings. The bands were tall and not perfectly cylindrical, but angled, like a cone that had its top cut off and the middle carved out. They were obviously meant as horn-rings, the quaint jewellery traditionally presented to unicorns as symbols of marriage or engagement. But no unicorn she knew could wear these; they were clearly made to fit… Oh, my stars. The only horn that could fit them tonight belongs to the Empress herself! The magic radiated from them like heat from a fire, playing against her body as she leaned in close. It was a strange powerful, intoxicating feeling. Each ring was set with a diamond, and if she squinted and pressed her nose right up against the glass, she could make out a light dancing within each gem.

No, not a light, she realised. A star!

Shimmering inside the diamonds of the horn-rings was a pair of tiny but unmistakably real stars. Desperate to understand, Twilight scrambled to the plaque. It told part of the legend of the Discus Romance and how, after completing his labours, the alicorn harnessed the power of the universe itself to create a binary pair of stars, shrank them to the size of a horsefly, and trapped them. The alicorn prince presented one to his lover as he proposed. Twilight would have normally been sceptical of such a story, but the evidence was right in front of her. They must have taken an unthinkable amount of magical ability to craft. Just thinking of the power required to perform such a feat made her feel tiny and feeble; as great as her potential might be, her own abilities were insignificant in the face of magic that could bend stars to its will.

Twilight shuddered and shifted to the next case, the final piece of the Crown Jewels. What could this case hold to warrant sharing a room with the Star Rings? The answer did not disappoint. They were a pair of crowns. Not too elaborately shaped; no arches or hoops or large, jutting pieces like those in the main exhibit room. They were simple, understated circlets. They were intricately engraved – extraordinary amount of detail was put into the patterns on the rims – but any gemstone or precious metal in Equestria would seem like filth to be scrubbed off of them. The crowns were made of a strange, alien material that Twilight could barely describe, like streamers of light made solid. One crown shimmered with translucent whites and blues and silvers, while the other burned red and yellow and gold. They both literally shone. Light and purity poured from them as if they were looking-glasses to the heavenly pastures of the Eternal Herd. Twilight felt the raw magic from them burning through the glass. Unlike the Star Rings, whose magical sensation was subtle and comforting, these crowns’ fields of magic were raw and cleansing. It put the filly simultaneously in mind of a hard rain, a winter windstorm, and a roaring bonfire.

The allegedly-descriptive plaque only left her with more questions. These circlets were the fiery Imperial Crown and the tranquil Crown of State: the Great Twin Crowns of Equestria. Not even Nightmare Moon wore these; they were purely symbolic and went unused. Twilight briefly wondered, were one to wear one of these crowns, if it wouldn't burn right through their skull. The plaque mentioned that these relics were made from solid magic, but not much else. It did not say how they were made, nor did it tell her what ‘solid magic’ was. Her excitement marred by a vague dissatisfaction, Twilight turned and exited the room. She drifted over to a display of some bejewelled gold slippers, barely glancing at the plaque to note that they were a gift from some princess named Cadence."

Orion joined her after a few more moments, nudging her with his shoulder.  “Did you enjoy that?” he asked.

She nodded distractedly, her mind still on the powerful items that lay behind them.

“Are you all right?  You looked kind of mesmerised in there.” The earth pony gave her another nudge.

She nodded more forcefully as she snapped back to the present. “Yes, sorry! I’m fine. It was just… kind of overwhelming.”

“I know what you mean,” Orion said as they trotted through the rest of the exhibits. After the rings and the crowns, treasures of mere gold and gems could do little to hold their interest. “I’ve never seen anything like them before. Something about that room made my hooves itch, though,” he added.

She stared at him for a long second. “You didn’t feel that?”

“Feel what?”

“The magic! The rings and the crowns, they were so full of—” She stopped short as Orion pointedly tapped the tip of her horn with his hoof. “Right. Of course. Sorry…”

“So, what’s next?” the colt asked, giving a perfunctory glance to the enchanted hornblade worn by Queen Beryl of Unicornia. “Stick with the tour, or…?”

Twilight shrugged. “I don’t know what could compare after… that,” she replied and nodded back over her shoulder. “I want to do some reading about solid magic and Prince Discus, but that can wait till after you’ve gone home.”

Orion leaned closer, dropping his voice to a murmur. “How would you like to see the Hesperidium? As in, actually go in there?”

“Oh, that would be amazing!” Twilight beamed, trying to imagine the ancient, magical mysteries that lay behind that door. The door, she remembered, right. “Except it was locked, remember? Nopony is allowed to go in.”

Orion nodded, his face still mostly impassive save for the small, knowing grin rising on his lips. “But the Empress has the key, remember?”

“Well, it’s actually the master key for pretty much the whole castle. She used it once to show me the restricted section in the library.”

“And she’s out all night, isn’t she?” Orion continued, his grin becoming wider and more devious.

Realisation dawned on the little filly. “Are you–” she quickly lowered her voice to a whisper and leaned in to the colt. “Are you suggesting we take the key from her room?”

“It’s just a thought, Twilight,” Orion shrugged. “I mean, if we find it, go to the golden apple orchard and get it back before she returns home, she’d never know.”

“But… but she’s the Empress!” Twilight gave a hushed cry. “And that’s stealing.”

“If you want, think of it like borrowing without permission. Nopony will get hurt as long as we give it back before it’s missed,” the earth pony gave her a reassuring smile. “Besides, don’t you want to see the Hesperidium? Don’t you want to know what magic the apples can do? What secrets they have?”

“Well… yes… but I don’t want to risk getting in trouble with the Empress just because I’m curious,” she countered.

“You won’t get in trouble. We can be extra careful.” He seemed extremely keen on the idea. “Think of it like an adventure. Haven’t you ever wanted to go on an adventure before?”

“Life isn’t like those books you read,” Twilight rolled her eyes. “Normal, sane ponies don’t run around having adventures all the time. Nopony battles hydras and faces dragons as night-to-night activities.”

“Come on, Twilight! We’re never going to get this opportunity again. How would you feel if you missed this one chance to have some excitement, to find out about something truly special?” he said, his voice thick with wonder. “Nightmare Moon is busy the entire night and won’t think to check up on us. We’ll be free, in this one window of opportunity, to discover the secrets of the Hesperidium.”

For all her objections, Twilight was seriously considering it. She didn’t like the idea of invading Nightmare Moon’s private space, let alone stealing something from her. But Orion sounded so sure, so confident in his plan. He made the whole idea sound exciting and epic. Twilight really did want to go and discover the “secrets of the Hesperidium”. What could she find down there? What do the fruits do? Besides, if Nightmare Moon doesn’t know about it, and we return the key to the exact same place we found it, then who’d be any wiser? Orion had a level head; he was okay with the idea, so why was she worrying? He wouldn’t let anything go wrong.

“All right, but we do this as quickly as we can,” she said.

Orion grinned and nodded. Twilight was surprised to feel a little leap in her chest at the earth pony’s open display of emotion. He was usually so withdrawn and stoic. Perhaps all he needs is some excitement, some adventure? He certainly loved those books with perilous journeys and swashbuckling heroes like the Gallopreyan explorer-adventurer Shetland Quartermane or the questing Konnican warrior Bay Wolf.

Soon the tour guide called her group together. Twilight and Orion rejoined the small crowd.

==========

The tour guide nattered over minute details of the palace’s history, but Twilight was no longer listening. She turned Orion’s plan over and over in her head. She’d already had second thoughts by the time the tour returned to solid ground; as they approached the residential wing, she’d made it all the way up to fifth or sixth thoughts. If we’re caught, her pessimistic nature warned, I’ll no longer be welcome at the palace, that’s for sure. I might even be put in prison! She gulped. What about Orion? It was his idea, so he’ll probably be banished. I can’t let them do that to him! I’ll say it was my fault, which I suggested we do it. Hopefully Nightmare Moon will be more merciful to me than she would be to him.

Caught by who? her curiosity insisted. There’s nopony here to do the catching!

“Here we are in the Residential Wing of the palace,” the tour guide announced. Twilight snapped out of her reverie to realise they had stopped, and she knew where they were. The vast, stone tile-floored atrium was quite familiar. The tour guide swept her leg in a wide arc to take in the cavernous room and the long hallways that radiated from it. “These are the apartments of government officials and nobles who have been granted the right to live at the palace. Many are currently at their estates for the summer growing season, but others remain here year-round.” Each door was marked with the name and position of its resident, and a few were graced with grand double doors emblazoned with the family crests of particular important personages.

She gestured to the great, arching doors emblazoned with the image of Nightmare Moon holding the moon aloft, flanked by a pair of identical purple-armoured unicorns, standing as still and silent as golems. They had the tell-tale cat eyes and grey coats of Canterlot’s elite. “Behind me is the entrance to the Royal Apartments complex, the very home of our illustrious ruler, Empress Nightmare Moon. This part of the palace is private, and only royal family members are allowed in without a specific invitation. The Honour Guard protects these doors at all times. So before you ask, no, I can’t give you a tour.” She laughed a practised laugh.

“Shall we?” Orion said.

Twilight grinned, and together they trotted forward past the guide. “I just said you’re not allowed—” the mare began, but then the guards’ horns flashed and the doors swung open before Twilight and Orion.  

“Thank you,” Twilight chirped as she strutted past. She couldn’t help glancing over her shoulder and barely holding in laughter at the dumbstruck expression on their guide’s face. Her jaw hung slack, and her left eye twitched just a little as Twilight added, “Thank you for the tour!”

Just before the doors boomed shut, one of the foals piped up, “I wanna go next!”

Twilight trotted ahead, bubbling with giggles, while Orion followed with his small smirk of amusement.

Laughter stopped soon enough, though, as the filly recalled the enormity of their task here. They stopped in front of the ornate entry opposite Twilight’s own room. “Is this it?” Orion asked. Twilight nodded in reply.

Orion flashed a grin and, after a brief check down the hall, peeled open one of the doors. Twilight crept up next to him, jittery with excitement in spite of the knot of worried guilt bubbling acid in her stomach. She had always wondered what the Empress’s room looked like. If hers was so fabulous, then the Nightmare’s must be unparalleled! Her imagination was alight with images of silks and marbles and precious metals washing over the room. Perhaps even the ceiling was studded with diamonds – like the stars in the sky. She could see the chandelier in her mind, expertly crafted from white gold in the shape of the moon. Unable to contain herself any longer, she put her front hooves on his back and thrust her head forward, peeking into the room over his brushy mane.

Instead of the marbles and precious metals, the floors were a simple carpet – a soft, dusky shade of violet not unlike the streak in her own hair. The walls were a muted midnight blue that seemed chosen specifically to swallow up firelight. There were furnishings and shelves similar to those in Twilight’s own room, and firewood was laid but unlit in a small, quite plain fireplace. Paintings, strangely simplistic and quaint, depicted nothing more exotic than parts of Equestria in different seasons. A couple of portraits of alicorns hung on the wall above the hearth. One was a stallion, white with a mane of blazing red, and the other a mare with a coat of steel blue and silver hair that flowed like liquid. But for the colours and the furniture, it could have been a twin to Twilight’s own room.

Twilight comforted herself that the bed, at least, was almost as opulent as she had imagined. A shroud of translucent curtains hung around the bed like silken leaves drooping from a willow tree, tied back to reveal a strange, round, almost basket-like piece of furniture. She was irreverently reminded of an overgrown pet bed. Though it lacked the sort of decorations the crown jewels had primed her to expect, it was piled with plush, silky (and rather rumpled) velvet covers, and its four pillows, though disappointingly plain, looked as soft as clouds.

“Twi, look,” Orion said, gaping as he craned his neck back. “It’s full of stars.”

An endless field of stars and nebulae hung above their heads in place of a ceiling. The walls reached up to vanish into darkness – whether it was some black mist that blotted out the roof, or if by some enchantment the room really did open onto the infinite depths of space, Twilight wasn’t sure. The centrepiece of the display was the ghostly image of the moon. The image was perfect in every detail, but unlike the unthinkably distant orb in the sky, it drifted just feet above her head, like a toy ball suspended in the air. Twilight fought the urge to try and reach it, to touch the surface of the shining orb that hung in the middle of the ceiling.

She could have happily sat and stared at the glorious reflection of the sky until Nightmare Moon returned, but her native caution and worry quickly overwhelmed the wonder. She pushed the door closed with her magic. Orion jolted as if a hypnotist had suddenly clopped his hooves to release the colt from a trance. “We should get moving,” she smiled nervously at the white colt.

“Oh! Yeah, right. Sorry.” Orion shook himself and blinked hard. “The key. Where would she keep that?” The pair moved on into the room, tiptoeing as if afraid to disturb the silence of the Empress’s empty room. Taking great care not to leave any trace of their presence, they got to work.

As it turned out, the key was in the second place Twilight looked – the top drawer of a chest of drawers, tucked in beside rows upon rows of socks. Odd, Twilight had never seen the Empress wear such clothes. Slowly, she picked up the key, memorising its exact position within the drawer, and turned to Orion. The white colt was about to look in a closet when Twilight hissed, “I found it! Let’s go!”

They beat a hasty retreat from the forbidden room and closed the door as silently as they could. Twilight made a quick detour to her room to grab what she felt were adventuring essentials – a compass, fifty feet of twine (since she didn’t have any rope handy), two bottles of water, a few granola bars, and a third edition copy of 'The Complete Manual of Monsters’. She packed everything into her saddlebags, tucking the key in its own pouch for safekeeping.

“Got everything you want?” Orion asked. She nodded. “Good.”

The foals were off again, speeding neck-and-neck down the halls of the castle like Spitfire and Nightshade at the last Canterlot Derby. They burst through the doors, drawing startled looks from the unicorns on guard there, and raced on through the Residential Wing. The tour guide and her group had disappeared, leaving the halls feeling rather deserted. Twilight led the way back through the winding, confusing passages of the palace, retracing the tour’s route since she was still afraid that she might make a wrong turn and end up in a creepy or forbidden part of the castle. Instead, you’re making a deliberate effort to find a different forbidden and possibly creepy part of the castle, her subconscious cynic reminded her.

The foals slowed to a trot, then stopped before the ornate, foreboding door to the Hesperidium. Orion looked to Twilight, his jaw set. “Are you ready for this?”

She nodded. “Let’s do it.”

They glanced up and down the corridor, making certain they were unobserved. Then Twilight fished the key out of her saddlebags and hurriedly jammed it into the keyhole. It turned easily; a rewarding click signalled that the door was unlocked. Twilight gave the strange, round, button-like latch a push and the door clicked and swung slowly inward. The foals scurried into the dim passageway at once and pushed the door closed behind them.

Twilight saw ahead of her nothing but a stone tunnel. It sloped ever so slightly downwards, running straight ahead into the heart of the mountain. The unicorn filly decided this would be an ideal time to practice her magic and cast a simple light spell. The tip of her horn glowed intensely, lighting the way ahead like a torch.

Ahead, the tunnel’s insatiable darkness greedily swallowed her feeble light, and with each step she could feel the mounting weight of untold tons of stone and oceans of time above her. How many eons had it been since Prince Discus hewed this tunnel with the same overwhelming magic that stole two stars from the very sky? How long since any hoof but Nightmare Moon’s had trod this path? Twilight swallowed, immediately unsure about the whole endeavour, her doubts rising up even stronger than before. What if there’s something really bad at the end of this tunnel? Her mind buzzed with all the possible dangers. What if it’s a labyrinth and we get lost forever? What if one of us breaks a leg or gets trapped or—

Her eyes dropped to her saddlebags and the pouch with its innocuous, barely-noticeable bulge. Even once someone misses us, no one will ever think to look for us here. She felt her knees begin to tremble. No one will even be able to get in to look for us, because we have the only key. We’ll be trapped here forever and ever and nopony will ever find our bodies and—

Twilight shook her head to shoo away the morbid thoughts and tried to take one more step, then stopped, unable to force her hooves any farther. She gasped for air and her legs shook uncontrollably, threatening to dump her on the floor if they didn't bolt back up the tunnel and drag her along for the ride.

Then Orion's shoulder pressed up against hers. "Don't worry, Twi," the older colt said, flashing one of his rare reassuring smiles. "I'll make sure nothing happens to you."

Twilight startled, nearly bolted then and there, but the simple touch of another pony began to banish her imagined terrors. The mountain ceased to press down on her, and the darkness gradually seemed to lose its hungry quality. Her trembling gradually stopped. "If you say so..." she hedged, but the promise did make her feel a little better. She returned an uncertain grin and took another step.

Side by side, they walked onward into the deep.

==========

Chatter echoed out of the Grand Chamber of Parliament as the doors opened to the Inquisitor's magic. The Parliament was not in session, but the front benches still groaned under the weight of dozens of ponies. The crowd was a mixed bag of unicorns, pegasi, and earth ponies, but all were equally slaves to current fashion trends. The stallions' fine suits and robes were ruined by gaudy sashes, and the mares seemed to be waging a war to see who could still walk under the most cumbersome dress. Both sexes glittered with jewellery displayed not to accent appearance, but to flaunt their ability to acquire it. The most reserved of them all was the Duke of Canterlot, Prince Blueblood. He wore a simple (but nonetheless immaculate) suit of dark satin and a red sash bearing only a pair of medals and the crest of his House. Of course, the Inquisitor's own plain black leather made even the Duke look downright ostentatious.

The aristocrats' chatter ceased instantly as Nightmare Moon entered the Parliament chamber with the Inquisitor at her side. He peeled off to take the chancellor's seat in the centre of the floor, while the Empress strode to the far end and ascended the dais there to settle in the rarely-used throne. She gazed at them dispassionately, as if she had resigned herself to an unpleasant task. Indeed, she had ranted at some length about it to the Inquisitor, but it was necessary for the noble Houses to understand that Twilight Sparkle was here to stay. A good thing, too, he thought. The girl is perfectly malleable and owes loyalty to nopony. She will make a fine tool when the time comes. Besides, she’s such a little darling. The curves of his lips twitched in a deeper grin before quickly settling back down into his usual, reserved smirk.

Nightmare Moon inclined her head to him, and the Inquisitor in turn nodded to the chamberlain, who banged his gavel for attention – as though there had been a peep since she entered. “My lords and ladies,” he announced formally. “Hark ye now to the word of Her Imperial Majesty, Nightmare Moon of Equestria!”

The Empress cleared her throat and spoke in a clear, regal tone. “I have gathered you here to discuss the rumours that are circulating about a certain personal student and protégée of mine.” She let the words sink in for a moment before continuing. “They are, for the most part, true.”

Nightmare Moon paused as a murmur rippled through the gathered ponies, their faces demonstrating a spectrum of reactions. Some were visibly frustrated, others confused. The Inquisitor’s eyes met with those of Duke Blueblood, who looked on with unflappable aplomb. Naturally, since the Inquisitor had personally introduced him to the filly. He was doubtless here to try and pressure Nightmare Moon into granting the nobility some kind of compensation for what they perceived as an insult. Or what they thought they could get away with pretending they perceived as an insult, if they could get some compensation out of it. The vultures. The ashen stallion’s ears pricked up as the Empress's resonant voice continued.

“Earlier this month, I discovered a filly with great magical potential. Some of you may have felt the surge of thauamaturgical energies–” this elicited nods from several of the unicorns in the chamber “–which was what attracted me to the location of a little unicorn named Twilight Sparkle. She was lost in an uncontrolled Flare, and an incredibly powerful one at that.”

The hushed chatter returned at that. The Inquisitor could see a number of unicorns in the audience explaining to their fellows that Flares were an exceedingly rare event and few unicorns were powerful enough for their raw magical energy to exceed their ability to control it. There was also a good deal of consternation over anything that the world's sole alicorn would describe as 'incredibly powerful'.

The Empress raised a hoof for silence, and received it. “So I took Twilight Sparkle under my wing for apprenticeship and tutoring. Some of you may have seen her around the palace,” she raised her head and visibly steeled herself against the coming backlash. “She does not belong to any House, nor is she of the aristocracy. She is an orphan.”

Nightmare Moon paused just long enough for the gathered aristocrats to react. It was still little more than a low murmur, but the Inquisitor heard some definite notes of outrage from them. He glanced up to the obsidian alicorn, whose face was locked in a glare that could freeze water and break rocks. The chancellor knew that she had heard the snippets of scandalised voices and was probably trying her best to not snuff the fools out then and there. Instead, she simply raised her hoof again and continued.

“Before any of you ask, I am indeed only taking in one student. I will not be open to suggestions of additional apprentices,” she breathed out a sigh and leaned back in her seat slightly. “Any questions?”

At once, the audience exploded in shouted questions and raised forelegs. Blueblood, rather than joining the tumult, was whispering in the ear of a mare to his left. The Inquisitor frowned and made a mental note to teach himself the useful skill of lip-reading. The Empress waited for the first wave of cries to pass, then pointed her hoof at one of the aristocrats – a random choice – to hear her question.

The green mare rose. “Is this ‘Twilight Sparkle’ to stay here in the palace permanently? Or will she be returning to her home soon?”

“Soon, Lady Hoofenzollern?” Nightmare Moon pursed her lips. “I do hope you are joking. She’s not even ten, and an orphan. I have no intention of ever returning her to the foster home. Twilight Sparkle will stay in the palace until she comes of age and decides to make arrangements of her own.”

Lady Hoofenzollern nodded. “Your Majesty is very kind. May I ask where Miss Sparkle is to be quartered? As you know, my own children are grown and making families of their own, so I would be overjoyed to accommodate the girl in my own apartment.” The Inquisitor chuckled quietly to himself. Sly girl.

“She is staying with me in the Royal Apartments.” Eyes widened at this new piece of news, but Nightmare Moon gave them no time to discuss the implications. She thrust her hoof toward another pony. “You may speak.”

“Are there any plans to give the child inheritable lands or to ennoble her once she is of age?” asked a pink stallion weighed down with so many medals he rattled when he moved.

The Empress seemed only slightly taken aback by the question. It was a valid concern. The creation of a new noble – or at least a member of the gentry – would throw all the careful alliances of the aristocracy into chaos. Her close ties to the Empress already made her a potential threat or ally, as the aristocrats counted such things. A landed 'Lady Sparkle' would make quite an enticing target for ambitious members of the upper class.

Indeed, the Inquisitor could vividly picture the sons of these ponies lining up to take advantage of Twilight’s naivety. In the ancient feudal customs of the Empire, marriage was a prime way to secure alliances, and any house would love to sink their teeth into the direct and personal link to the Empress that was her protégée. Of course, if the girl were to actually exploit that influence, she could easily shift the balance of power in the Empire... which would make her a target of another sort.

“I have no plans to do so at the moment, Count Whittleback, but I can't make any promises,” the alicorn said. “In fact, the thought hadn’t crossed my mind until now. Any other questions?”

The meeting proceeded in much the same vein. Some were vapidly pointless questions of protocol, like whether Nightmare Moon expected them to send gifts to commemorate her choosing of a student or not. Others were so intrusive as to fall a mere hair's breadth short of insolence, like one mare who asked what the Empress was teaching the filly and whether the Great Houses could be sent progress reports on Twilight's development. Nightmare Moon cut those questions down with the scathing retorts they deserved.

When Duke Blueblood signalled to be recognised, no other hooves joined his in the air. Ah, the Inquisitor thought, perking up. The prelude is finished at last. Blueblood pushed himself to his hooves and cleared his throat, face set with professional passivity, and spoke in a careful, sophisticated voice. “What I wish to understand, Your Majesty, is why, if you were so interested in taking on a pupil, you did not first make your intent clear to those of us gathered so you may select a student from among the Houses.”

The Inquisitor spotted several small, almost instinctive nods of agreement from the mares and stallions gathered. Nightmare Moon took several deep, steady breaths, the effort to keep herself calm almost unnoticeable unless one had known her as long as the Inquisitor had. It was an opportune time for the grey unicorn to inject himself into the discussion, especially since it was a rival of his who had just come perilously close to making an open accusation against the sovereign.

He reached out to the Regent of the Moon and slipped his words into her mind, half-forming a telepathic link. ‘Would you mind if I were to interrupt you, Empress? I can deal with Blueblood.’

Without even a twitch to betray their silent communication, she completed the link and replied. ‘I would be very grateful, Inquisitor. Please do.’

The Overwatch Commander rounded on Blueblood, his eyes boring into the Duke’s. The pure white unicorn returned the gaze with a hard stare of his own. Oh, he is definitely in need of a good humiliation. The Inquisitor assumed the air of righteous indignation appropriate to a full-scale rebuke. “I do not know why you assume that our divinely-appointed sovereign, Nightmare Moon, Immortal of the Equines, would require your approval in such a decision, Your Grace. Do you now oversee such personal matters of the Royal Household as whether or not the Empress chooses to train a talented student?”

Blueblood narrowed his eyes. “I seek no such thing, Your Excellency. I merely wish to understand why Her Majesty would pass over the progeny of the fine and deserving stock represented here tonight,” he replied with a grand gesture of his hooves. There was a chorus of supportive murmurs.

Probably because your ‘fine stock’ are inbred, talentless swine who aren’t worth the rope it would take to hang them, let alone tutelage under Luna. The Inquisitor smiled pleasantly. “I was personally at the scene of Twilight Sparkle’s Flare. I can assure you from first-hoof experience that Her Majesty has made a wise and excellent choice in her student – a choice based on merit and ability.”

“Besides, Duke Blueblood,” Nightmare Moon interjected. “I never asked for applications. I found a filly of unparalleled potential which would otherwise go to waste, so I decided on the spot to train her myself. That was entire motivation for taking her on. It was, if you like, a spontaneous decision. I did not hunt around for a student among the public and single out a common pony out over those of land and inheritance. I have no desire to insult the Houses in any way.”

That answer seemed to satisfy a great many of the gathered nobleponies. A ripple of agreement or neutrality washed over their faces, replacing the scandalised and frustrated looks they had been wearing. Still, Blueblood seemed determined not to let the matter rest.

“I can understand your point, Your Majesty, but I still wish there was some way to placate the incessant calls I have been receiving from my peers. They, of course, desire only to further their own children’s chances and education.” He gave the sad, theatrical sigh of a pony who was the unwilling bearer of bad news; a victim with responsibility weighing heavily on their shoulders.

The Inquisitor had to admit a certain respect for the Duke’s way with words. The sly dog had nicely voiced his own worries without directly insulting the Empress, and while seeming genuinely concerned for the well-being of others. The Inquisitor knew exactly where Blueblood was going with this; he wanted compensation from Nightmare Moon.

Both he and the Empress knew the Prince of Unicorns was very hard to touch. His popularity with the mob was the result of a masterful publicity campaign, portraying him as a dashing hero and a pony who, despite all his wealth and station, had the people’s interests at heart. His power and wealth secured him unrivalled influence over many of the unruly and self-entitled nobles who governed the feudal provinces of the Empire. In short, he had a shield in the form of a loyal, supportive proletariat and a ruling class who hung on his every word. The Inquisitor honestly wondered how he had let so much control slip away from him and into the Duke’s own hooves.

“I think, Duke Blueblood,” the Inquisitor began, determined not to let the self-entitled aristocrat get anything from this meeting, “that it would be best if you were to assure your peers that they are quite capable of paying for the very best education for their children.”

The Duke tossed his head and performed an exaggerated shrug. He was definitely enjoying making this difficult for the Empress and her chancellor. “I do know that, Lord Inquisitor, but I fear there may be whispers of favouritism from certain circles. I do not know how to pacify these ponies,” he sighed and hung his head, before looking up at Nightmare Moon with pleading eyes and a smouldering smile. “Unless… if Your Majesty were to see fit to open up positions and scholarships in the Imperial Academy – as well as the Manehatten Institute and the Cloudsdale College for non-unicorns, of course – to members of the Great Houses, I think we may be able to satisfy those who feel themselves left out.”

The Inquisitor flicked his eyes to Nightmare Moon, who stared down at the Duke with a stern, regal look that betrayed no anger or frustration. She narrowed her eyes just a little bit.

“I do not think that will be a good idea, Blueblood,” she said, steady voice echoing throughout the chamber. “Those schools – my Academy especially – accept students based solely on merit, ability and intellect. I will not tarnish their immaculate record with a bout of nepotism the likes of which you are suggesting.” She shifted her wings as if preparing to take flight. “I feel this discussion has drifted far from the original point. I gathered you all here to enlighten you on the situation regarding my personal student, Twilight Sparkle. She is to be treated with the utmost respect and kindness, is that understood?”

Blueblood bowed his head. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Good,” Nightmare Moon said with a satisfied smirk. “In that case, I will take my leave.”

The alicorn rose, followed by the rest of the assembly in a gesture of respect, and swept out of the Parliament chamber with fluid, graceful movements. The Inquisitor watched her go before his eyes settled on Blueblood. The white unicorn returned the glare of his ashen counterpart. Already, ponies were splitting off into loose groups, mingling and talking. The room buzzed with conversation, and no one paid any attention to the Inquisitor, not even as he stood up and slithered over to Blueblood. The Duke was already heading towards him, and they met halfway, standing in the centre of the chamber floor.
Blueblood was the first to speak. “I thought I was being rather courteous, especially given the circumstances. Couldn’t you let me have this one small recompense?”

The Inquisitor chuckled low, Blueblood scowling more deeply with each cutting breath. “Not even this little single thing, Blueblood. Quite frankly, if your spawn are less educated; all the better for me.”

“What? So that our illustrious inheritors won’t pose as much a challenge when you grow old and decrepit?” the Duke snorted. “When that night comes, you will be forced into retirement for senility anyway, and while you’re wasting your nights drooling on yourself, my son will be unopposed in Parliament. I dare say he might even be offered your job, if I play my cards right. That will be my victory.”

The Inquisitor licked his lips and gave Blueblood the roguish grin that had unnerved mares and stallions alike for many decades. “And what makes you think I won’t have a successor of my own? Or perhaps I have a huge supply of the fabled anti-aging elixir of the zebras. You know the one, made with forbidden rites from the lifeblood of living sacrifices? And what if I shatter your family before my time is up?”

“You dwell far too much in the realm of ‘what if’, Inquisitor, and not in the sense of ‘here is what happened, how can I make the best of it?’” The aristocrat met the Inquisitor's grin with one of his own.

The grey pony sighed and his leer dropped. “Very well, Blueblood. What is it you want?”

“I heard that your recent diplomatic mission to the griffons ended in disaster.” The grin morphed into a smirk. “And now there is talk that a bill to bolster the defence budget it in the works, as well as a strengthening of internal security.”

“I believe that there might be discussion between certain members of government preparing for the worst. Hypothetical scenarios from the downturn in relations with our northern neighbours are being tossed around as a matter of course.” The Inquisitor’s smirk returned along with an arched brow. “It is nothing to be concerned about.”

Duke Blueblood huffed. “It concerns me greatly that at the first sign of trouble, this government sharpens its blade and rattles its sabres rather than commit to easing the diplomatic situation. There is a tradition of ambassadors and skilled diplomats from among my social circle, whose expertise I would be happy to lend to her majesty.”

“But what if war does come, Blueblood, and we did not bolster our military? What then?”

“War will never arrive,” the answer came, bitter and sure of itself. “The griffons are afraid of our Empress, and of our armies. They have not forgotten the last war.”

“If you remember your history, Duke, the last war with the griffons was over a century ago. That is ample time for them to forget the horrors and only remember the humiliation they suffered.”

The unicorn prince raised his head –an assertive gesture that the Inquisitor recognised as a sign that Blueblood was on the defence. “My allies among the Great Houses and the nobles that orbit us will not contribute to any asinine attempt to prepare for an impossible war. Any increase to the military and your already iron-tight security measures will most likely result in nothing more than a costly arms race with the griffons.”

“I think that our Empress is willing to take that chance,” the Inquisitor grinned. “But what do you hope to gain from boycotting government proposals as you are suggesting?”

“A reminder,” Blueblood narrowed his eyes and smiled dryly, “to you and Her Majesty that I do have sway in this country; that I do not appreciate being stonewalled in every little matter. A reminder that it does not take a show of force to rebel. Sometimes, unproductivity and intransigence are the most effective forms of protest.” The unicorn swivelled, strutting away with his nose proudly in the air.

The Inquisitor stood alone, lost in his own thoughts amidst a crowd of nattering nobles. He mulled Blueblood’s words over and over in his head. It was like a game of chess. The first round had just begun, but already the chancellor was trying to gauge Blueblood’s thoughts, to anticipate his moves. The Inquisitor laid out plan after plan, setting them against all variations of what he guessed to be coming events. The Duke’s intent was clear, but he did not know exactly how the aristocratic unicorn would unveil his machinations and set into motion the next rounds of this game. It was all very exhilarating. The Inquisitor couldn’t help but grin.

Finally, he thought to himself, suppressing a small chuckle. Blueblood was an intelligent and charismatic individual. If anypony could pose a threat to the Inquisitor, it would be him. A challenge. Let the game begin, Your Grace. I look forward to seeing how you move your pieces. And how well you remember what a pawn can become.

==========

Twilight and Orion struck forward for quite some time. They had no idea when they were going or what they were going to find when they got there – aside from golden apples, of course. Time and distance seemed to fade away in the perpetual blackness of the featureless, seemingly endless tunnel. “How long do you think this goes on for?” Orion asked.

The purple filly shrugged. “I don’t know. If this apple tree is in the middle of the mountain, then we shouldn’t be far off.”

Even as she spoke, a new wall suddenly loomed out of the darkness. The tunnel bent sharply to the right, and beyond, light! The two immediately galloped forward, eager to leave the dark passage behind them. At the same time, Twilight was struck by a faint but pervasive sense of magic, like that she felt from the crown jewels, but also completely different. Where the crowns and rings had felt like light and fire, this was a steady, gently insistent flow, the caress of a rippling stream mixed with a constant, deep bass string’s resonance.

An impossibly large cavern greeted them with what looked like to be a verdant green field as the floor. The area was lit, though Twilight could not see any source – as if the air itself were faintly aglow. A waterfall poured down into a pool from a hole at the top of the cave’s soaring walls. In the centre, clutching and almost enveloping a tiny hillock like a griffon holding a baseball, was a giant, twisting apple tree.

Its trunk was as thick as an elephant’s waist and the myriad of branches were home to leaves in all colours of autumn; oranges, yellows, reds and golds salted with purple and fading green. Sharing the smooth, ancient limbs with the fiery leaves were the largest, most extraordinary apples Twilight had ever seen. They weren’t just coloured gold; they shined and glistened more brightly than the polished sceptres and orbs they had seen earlier in the night.

Twilight’s magical senses, thanks to her training with Nightmare Moon, were tuned more sharply than most; however, she was certain that even the most magic-deaf unicorn would feel/taste/hear the flavour of these apples buzzing through them. They sang in bell-tone harmony with the thrumming note of the grotto and left the memory of the flavor of apple juice on her tongue. She shivered. If their magic feels like this from so far away, what would it feel like to actually touch the tree? Then the image of the Imperial Crown burning through her scalp returned to her, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to try it anymore.

Orion suddenly stepped forward, trotting toward the unearthly tree. Twilight remained just inside the door, tearing her eyes away from the tree to take in the rest of the cavern. The floor was dotted with little hillocks like the one the tree perched on, and as she watched, she realised the floor was slowly… rippling. One of the mounds almost imperceptibly expanded, then shrank again. That’s strange, Twilight thought. Hills don’t move. For that matter, they don’t shine like that, and they don’t snore or have legs or–

Her perspective shifted with an almost audible snap. She spun around to the blue-haired earth pony trotting eagerly up to the golden apple tree and shrieked, “Orion, stop! There’s a–!”

A massive clawed fist crashed down just in front of Orion, making him reel back and whinny from shock. Before she realised it, her legs were in motion, propelling her toward her friend as all her worst fears suddenly became real.

“Twilight!” he screamed. “Get out of here! Run!”

The purple filly whirled toward the exit, but a gargantuan, scaly tail fell across the tunnel entrance, blocking their escape. She twisted in a frantic circle, looking for any other way out. There was nothing but bare stone and green, scaly flesh. Orion reached her just as a monstrous head loomed over them.

The creature now revealed itself in full. It looked almost like a dragon, but vast and serpentine. Dull green scales, overgrown with moss and lichen, covered its snake-like body. Its legs were powerful, muscled so thickly that they looked like they could kick through a mountain. The thing lacked any wings, but it most likely found no use for them. Its head was the broad, fanged arrowhead of a viper and its lithe body lay in boneless loops across the cavern floor. The creature stretched itself out, standing on all fours with a fist blocking access to the tree. It was long enough to half-coil around the cavern.

“What’re you two doin’ in me cave?” the creature demanded. His voice was deep and gravelly, but the accent it sported paradoxically set Twilight a bit at ease. Though the creature could assuredly crush them both into paste, he sounded like someone’s strange, foreign uncle. “From the looks o’ you, you young’uns ent the sorts ta be plunderin’ them apples.”

Twilight pressed tightly against Orion, unable to cower away from a beast that half-filled the chamber.  Next to her, the colt swallowed and forced on his face a mask of stoic bravery. “We were just exploring. We’ll leave now, if you’d let us.”
The creature arched a brow. “An’ how’d you get in? Nightmare Moon has the only key.”

Orion opened his mouth to speak, but Twilight summoned up her courage and hurriedly cut him off. “We… we took it from her room. I’m her student and I live here at the palace.”

The creature’s eyes widened and his heavy brow ridges rose in a very un-snakelike manner at her words. The stern, almost angry, look on his face vanished and he threw his great serpentine head back and let out a bellow of a laugh that shook the cavern and set Twilight’s ear ringing. The monstrous guardian howled with laughter until Twilight was beginning to seriously wonder about the structural integrity of the cavern. Finally, he wiped his eyes as his mirth faded, folding his arms and lying down with a grin wide enough to span a small river. He was no longer blocking the path to the tree, but neither Twilight nor Orion dared move a muscle.

“Oh, it’s been centuries since I’ve ‘eard something that funny,” he beamed a fang-filled grin at the two foals. “Ol’ Moon’s got ‘erself a young student, eh? An’ an ent’prising lil’ thing at that! You actually walked right into ‘er room, bold as brass, an’ took the bleedin’ key?”

“Uh… yeah,” Twilight nodded, dumbfounded by the sudden change in attitude. “I mean, yes sir. We didn’t want to try and steal the apples, honest. We only wanted… an adventure.”

“Adventure, huh?” the monster chuckled. “Tell you what. It’s been yonks since I ‘ad a good chat, and you lil’ things seem like decent kids. I’ll let you both go if you stay an’ talk with me.”

“Y-you won’t tell Nightmare Moon what I did?” Twilight asked. Now that she wasn’t in fear for her life, that worry bubbled to the surface. She could almost hear herself telling her, I told you so.

The serpent considered this for a moment before shaking his head. “Nah, young’uns’ll be young’uns after all. No sense punishin’ you if you don’t mean no harm. So, what’s your name?”

“I’m Twilight Sparkle, and this,” she motioned to her wary companion, “is Orion. Do… you have a name?”

“O’course I do! Me name’s Ladon. Tell me, young’un, how’d you end up as the last alicorn’s own prentice? Spare no details – I want ta hear everything, an’ I have all day.”

Wait, what’s a ‘day’? Twilight pondered the word for a moment, but dismissed it as part of the serpent’s odd manner of speech and began with a brief introduction of herself. She politely shrugged off Ladon’s sorrow for the loss of her parents and continued with the tale of her escapade to the Eclipse Festival and her resulting fascination with magic. She told him of how she almost failed the practical entrance exam until a freak explosion triggered a panic response as she was channelling magic. How the Empress saved her from the chaos that followed and accepted her under her wing. Ladon seemed enraptured with her story, so Twilight continued, detailing life at the palace and what she had learned in her time there. She carried on right up to her and Orion’s adventure into the Hesperidium.

Ladon took a minute to digest it all before finally speaking; a smile coming to his lips. “That’s quite a life you’ve got there, young’un. So all you wanted ta do was find out about these ‘ere apples?” He nodded towards the tree.

“Yeah… they’re magic, aren’t they?” Twilight immediately regretted the question. Of course they’re magic, you can feel them!

“Well, they taste real good,” the great serpent-dragon said.

“But what do they do?” Twilight asked. “What powers do they have?”

Ladon gave a massive, heavy shrug and a simple, lazy answer; “Dunno.”

“Don’t… but… how…” Twilight stammered in exasperated shock. “But you guard these things, don’t you? You should know why Discus planted them!”

“Well, he planted them ‘cause he wanted to impress some bird an’ her dad didn’t want nothin’ ta do with him, him being one a’ the lowest class of alicorn an’ all,” the serpent scratched his chin thoughtfully before continuing. “People’ve come down ‘ere ta steal ‘em since they first ripened.”

“Uh… ‘people’?” Orion tasted the word with uncertainty.

“Jest tryin’ ta be all cosmopolitan, young’un. Ent you ‘eard the term before?” Ladon raised a brow. “What’re they teachin’ you lot at school nowadays that you don’t know what words like ‘people’ mean?”

Orion looked down bashfully and muttered something inaudible. The purple unicorn looked back up to the massive, dragonish creature, eager to pick her host’s brain in turn. “How did you end up guarding the tree? How did you get down here?”

“Signed a contract, believe it or not. Two thousand years of sleepin’ an’ guardin’, an’ then I’m off,” Ladon replied.

“Wait,” Orion started. “Contract? You’re getting paid for this? With what?”

“That’s between me an’ me contract, young’un,” the serpent retorted, smirking wickedly. “An’ I expect whoever’s runnin’ the place by the end of it ta pay up.”

They continued talking for some time. Orion seemed more disinclined to conversation than Twilight, and much more uncomfortable, but the filly was too busy with Ladon to pay the colt much mind. The strange dragon exchanged stories with her, telling her what he decided was okay for her to know. He told mostly of the alicorns; remembering the time before they Ascended. He told her of the Immortal lords and ladies that oversaw the mortals and their kingdoms. Twilight was transfixed and, in time, Orion was sucked in as well.

Ladon spoke of personal experiences in a time that now existed only in legends and myths. He spun epic tales of gods and their lives, their loves and their wars. He told jokes he heard from alicorn princes and sang songs whose tunes had been forgotten a millennium ago. The little unicorn soaked it all in with wide eyes. The accounts from this eye-witness to history’s most important events were better than anything she could read in any library! His tale of a battle in the War of Black and Red, a personal face-off against the demonic alicorn tyrant Cheimon the Conqueror, sent shivers down her spine. More terrifying yet, the enormous, ancient monster had been forced to retreat. No wonder Cheimon's name was still used to personify evil and betrayal. Orion seemed to grow more and more excited with each tale; particularly those of the battles that this ancient veteran had fought in. It soon became evident to Twilight that Ladon was some kind of mercenary. He had hired himself out to different factions throughout history. The serpent never elaborated on what his payment was, but he added at the end of every story, “I always collect me pay.”

After finishing another story of war and blood, Ladon suddenly looked upwards, as if staring through the cavern’s roof. Returning his eyes to the pair of foals below him, he sighed.

“It’s time you young’uns be off, I think,” he said, cracking his great winding neck. “It ent gonna be too good if ol’ Moony comes back ta find her key missing, will it? As much as I’ve enjoyed our lil’ chat, I can’t keep you ‘ere forever, now can I?”

On cue, Twilight’s stomach rumbled and she blushed. “Is it that late already? They might not be serving lunch for much longer, so we’d better hurry,” she agreed. “Thank you very much for your hospitality.” After a few moments of silence, she gave Orion a swift, light kick on the hindleg.

Orion jolted and murmured, “Yes, thank you!” He still seemed in shock from the whole ordeal, or at least still mistrustful of the great monster.

“Think nothin’ of it. Now, unless you’re plannin’ ta steal one of me apples, lemme sleep,” Ladon yawned and curled up on the grassy floor again, his tail finally clearing the doorway. Soon his snores were bouncing off of the cave walls.

The two foals left without another word. The trip back through the dark tunnel was devoid of the apprehension they had felt on the way in. Orion and Twilight talked about Ladon and his stories. The earth pony seemed to like them just as much as the little filly did, if not more. The serpent-dragon’s tales of conflict and adventure were, Twilight assumed, just the sort of thing to excite a colt like Orion.

Twilight was, however, left wondering about how much of the world’s past the serpent knew and, in turn, how much Nightmare Moon knew. Did she fight in wars too? Had she also visited strange, wonderful lands? The unicorn’s imagination soared as she imagined the adventures of her teacher before the alicorn had founded the Empire of Equestria. She desperately wanted to ask Nightmare Moon about all this at some point, but she was all too aware that the Empress would likely be far less willing than Ladon to expound upon her past.

Orion unlocked the door back into the palace proper, then eased it open a crack and peeked through to ensure nopony would see them come out. After a few seconds, he poked his head out and glanced rapidly to either side. They quickly stepped into the corridor and shut the door to the Hesperidium behind them. Twilight heard the locking mechanisms click and seal the door once again.

The pair dashed back to the Royal Apartments, barely pausing to dump Twilight’s saddlebags in her room before they galloped into the Empress’s chamber to return the key. Thankfully, the alicorn had indeed not returned yet, but until the door was closed behind them once more, Twilight was haunted by terrible visions of Nightmare Moon appearing in the doorway while she was balanced on a staircase of open drawers.

“So,” Orion said as they trotted away from the scene of the crime, both foals fighting to act casual while they waited for their hearts to stop pounding. “Where can we get something to eat around here?”

Twilight’s stomach gurgled again at the mention of eating. “The kitchens always have something good. We’ve probably missed the lunchtime feast, but they still serve meals to anypony who wants it.”

“Then lead the way,” Orion smiled.

==========

Salt Wind gave Twilight a kind smile, while Ram Sea kept his head down over a bubbling pot of sauce but for a brief nod of acknowledgement.

“Hungry, Twilight?” Salt Wind asked in a tone that suggested she considered this the default state of all foals.

“Oh, yes. We missed lunch.” The filly motioned to the white colt behind her. “This is my friend, Orion.”

The mare shifted her cheery grin to him. “Pleased to meet you, Orion. My name’s Salt Wind. Do you have anything in particular you fancy?”

Orion thought for a moment before answering. “Sandwiches would be nice, thanks.”

“And some salad with tomatoes and cheese too, please,” Twilight added, beaming sweetly.

Salt Wind nodded and slipped off to the pantry to prepare their lunch. The mare was very quick about it. In the time it would have taken Twilight to make one sandwich, she was back with a whole plate of sandwiches and salad besides. Then again, if Twilight was making a sandwich, she would need a set square, a good, straight knife for the crucial task of spreading the butter over the bread very evenly, and a set of weights. Twilight had only rarely been called upon to cook for herself, but she knew it had to be done right.

“Thank you!” Twilight smiled as she levitated the dishes, leading Orion back out of the kitchen and to the reception halls. 

There, courtiers mingled with visitors and government employees around ornate stone tables while waiters bustled in and out with trays of food and drink. She wasn’t the only one enjoying a late lunch, it seemed.

Selecting a secluded table in the corner, the foals sat down and set to with a will. A waiter came over – quite quickly, Twilight noticed –and offered to bring them drinks. “Sarsaparilla!” Twilight said, and Orion followed suit. Within a minute they were both guzzling sweet, bubbly soda.

The purple filly chatted to Orion between bites, talking about everything she had learned since they last saw each other and what they had done. Orion mentioned some kind of “vocational training” Miss Loch was giving him, but did not elaborate further.

A knot of fillies in bright, yet somehow coordinated dresses drew Twilight’s attention as they trooped past, radiating an almost tangible aura of smug superiority. She recognised them as the daughters of some of the nobility that frequented the palace, although it wasn’t hard to infer their social status from their behaviour. They chatted amongst themselves as they walked, casting sly, pointed glances at other ponies. Occasionally one of the girls would make a comment in a low voice, followed by a burst of derisive giggling. They immediately shut down their conversation when they neared Twilight and Orion’s table, though. Granting the foals only a single contemptuous glance, most of them turned their faces away slightly and upwards, haughtily avoiding eye contact. All except a couple, who trailed along behind their peers and glanced at each other awkwardly before giving Twilight an apologetic look. They scurried to keep up with the group, though, who strutted through the gauntlet of tables with apparently-closed eyes. Nobles must develop a keen sense of echolocation, Twilight mused.

“Do you miss the orphanage, Twi?” Orion asked, turning back to face her after watching the aristocratic fillies pass.

Twilight blinked, slightly unnerved by the sudden question. “O-of course I do! I mean, not the orphanage itself, exactly, but Miss Loch... and you..."

"Have you made any new friends here?" The colt’s face was impassive but he arched an eyebrow as if he already knew the answer.

"Well... there's the Empress," she smiled sheepishly.

“Friends your own age?" he pressed.

Twilight bit her lip and shook her head. “It’s kind of… complicated,” the little unicorn sighed. “The children of the noble families still see me as a commoner orphan, so they don’t want to socialise with me, but since I’m the Empress’ protégée, they don’t want to offend me either. So they kinda try to ignore me, I guess.” She poked at her salad with her fork, suddenly listless. “A few of them aren’t that bad, but they still play along when the others are around.”

“What about the staffs’ foals? They don’t treat you badly, do they?” Orion prompted.

“No, they don’t. But they’re scared to get to know me because I’m so close to the Empress. They’re all ‘yes miss’ or ‘if you like, ma’am’ – I don’t want them to do that, but they do it anyway. They act like I’m one of those prissy little noble fillies who would take it as a personal insult if they didn’t bow enough times.” As Twilight spoke, she had slumped down in her seat; her head hanging and her voice bleak. She pressed her lips together tightly and furrowed her brow. “But I don’t need any of them. Not really. I have my studies and Nightmare Moon and you, and I’m perfectly fine with that.”

Orion sighed and shook his head. “I just want to be sure you’re happy here.”

“I am,” she snapped.

“I know, I know,” the colt held up his hooves defensively. “It’s just, if you ever feel like it, you can come over to the foster home and talk to me.”

The filly drew in a breath and let it out in a calming sigh. “Thanks, Orion,” she replied with a frail smile, then continued in an insincerely hearty tone. “Come on, let’s eat up. I have a place I want to show you.”

They finished their food and left the empty dishes on the table, though the colt clearly had to fight the urge to tidy up after himself. Twilight led Orion outside and into the gardens. The sky was cloudless; the Bright Moon shone unimpeded overhead, its soft, silver light making the plants and flowers glow with colour as it began to sink toward evening. The stars were not outdone by the gentle glowing orb, but complimented by it, and echoed by the fleeting glitter of moonlight off the decorative streams and pools as Twilight and Orion passed them.

Twilight smiled happily to each of the gardeners and groundsponies she came across, returning their bows without showing the frown she felt tug at her lips each time. The foals soon came to the secluded willow grove where Twilight had practiced her magic so often in the past weeks. Something about the place – be it the softness of the ground or the strangely calming way the drooping leaves swayed in every breath of air – made Twilight feel warm inside on even the coolest of nights.

“This place seems really peaceful,” Orion murmured, watching the delicate leaves rustle lazily in the wind.
The purple unicorn nodded. “This is where I come to read sometimes, but it’s mostly where Nightmare Moon and I have our lessons.”

“So what spells have you learned since I last saw you?” He spoke in a low voice. The willows muted the sounds of distant voices and the rumble of falling water beyond the cliff edge; like the busy silence of a library, the contemplative quiet subtly discouraged noise.

Twilight tossed her head to the side, looking upwards in a search through her memory. What had she learned while she was studying? Not much to wow an audience. She had spent her lessons with the Empress developing concentration, endurance and creative thinking, not learning new spells. So?

So? The inspiration hit her like a falling flowerpot. Think creatively! That's what you've been training for, isn't it? The filly imagined her mentor's voice, low and steady. You need to entertain an audience with your magical talent. You have only the spells you know by heart. You may use any props that are available in the willow grove, but you mustn't damage the landscaping. How will you impress them? She glanced around herself, noting the objects at hand. Branches and leaves, of course. Tree trunks. The graceful, lazy fish in the pool beside the willows.

Her mental Nightmare Moon raised an eyebrow. Is that all? The moss underhoof. Soil and rock beneath that – difficult to use given the restrictions, but available nonetheless. The water in the pond. The air around them. The light from the moon and stars, though she had no spells to affect that directly.

“Well,” she began, looking diffidently back to the colt. “There is one I think you might like.”

The earth pony lay down on the soft, mossy ground, folding his legs beneath himself. “Let’s see it then.”

Twilight over to the pond, closed her eyes, and began to concentrate, simultaneously holding all the key aspects of the spell in her head. It was a simple enchantment, really. In fact, it was less of a spell and more of a special way of applying her psychokinetic energy.

Unlike simple levitation, which most unicorns could manage as instinctually as a griffon could wrap her talons around an apple, this technique required Twilight to hold her magic in shape without a physical object to mould it around. She had to hold the shape in her mind instead, forming the magic around surfaces that existed only in her imagination.
As her horn flared with energy, she visualised a solid, invisible ‘board’ of magic. Forming this flat sheet of matterless inertia, the filly stretched it over the length of the pond. Opening her eyes, Twilight gingerly put a hoof down on the liquid surface of the pond while holding the 'board' firmly in her mind's eye. Any waver in her concentration would break the spell. Rather than sinking into the water, her hoof met the invisible solidity she had placed just over the water’s skin. She allowed herself a small smile as fish gathered beneath her hooves, hoping for a meal of bread crumbs.

Twilight began to walk forward, slowly and somewhat timidly. She knew that there were spells for walking on certain substances that wouldn’t have required constant concentration to manage, but she had no idea how to cast them without access to her library. This was a trick that Nightmare Moon had taught her in the 'trapped on a cliff by a hydra' scenario. It was, the Empress had claimed, something perfectly within her capabilities despite the extreme level of focus it demanded. As if in response to that thought, the spell began to waver. She quickly pushed away everything but the spell and placing one hoof in front of the next.

Once at the centre of the pond, the filly carefully turned around and beamed hopefully at Orion. The colt clapped his hooves together in delight. “That’s amazing, Twi! Only a couple of weeks ago you could barely pick up a hairbrush, and now you’re walking on water! You really have a talent there.”

Twilight blushed and her ears folded back in spite of her pride. “Thanks, Orion. Though I’m not really walking on water, I’m–”
The loud crack of a branch made her start, and the delicate balance between concentration and conversation shattered. The lavender glow under her hooves warped and flickered for half a second, then evaporated. With a yelp, Twilight plunged into the cold, lily-filled pond as the eager fish scattered in panic.

She thrashed wildly against the water for a few seconds, but then her hooves struck bottom and she discovered that the ornamental pond was only a foot or so deep. Even so, the water topped her withers, and the plunge left her mane soaked and clinging to her neck.

Twilight waded to the edge, where Orion reached out to help her out of the water as the foals traded chagrined giggles. She scrambled up the muddy verge, but even with the colt's assistance, she slipped and fell twice, caking her legs with muck. “Th-thanks,” Twilight shivered, instantly huddling against the chill of the steady mountain breeze.

A polite clearing of the throat brought their surprised stares up to meet the aloof, insolent eyes of Prince Blueblood the Tenth.

Embarrassed, chilly, and disinclined to let the pompous brat interfere with her special night, Twilight took a step between Orion and the princeling. “What do you want, Blueblood?” she scowled.

A frown flickered across the noblepony's face as he took in her muddy disarray, but his expression quickly slid back into a practiced smile. “Miss Sparkle,” he said breezily, “I don't wish to inconvenience you, so I shall come straight to the point. I wish to apologise for my behaviour toward you earlier in the week. I had no idea who you were, and no offense was meant. You have my deepest regrets for the misunderstanding.”

“Oh… um, okay then.” Twilight looked away, her hostility evaporating into shame for her belligerent greeting. Perhaps the prince wasn't such a bad pony after all...

“I would like for our relationship to start anew, fresh and untarnished by past mistakes.” He bowed toward her, flashing a hopeful grin as he raised his head again.

Twilight returned the bow, painfully aware of the sodden mane sliding against her forehead as she did and resisting the urge to push it out of her face with muddy hooves. “That's, er, that's really nice of you. Apology accepted, I guess?” That must have been the right response, because the prince's expression grew warmer and more relaxed.

With the slate of their relationship freshly cleaned, Blueblood seemed to notice Orion for the first time. The colt was glaring something unreadable at Blueblood, but the fact that he had slipped on his cold, stoic mask was enough to tell Twilight that Orion had already decided he didn't like the aristocrat. The prince returned the stare with a look of wary disdain.

“Who is this?” Blueblood asked cautiously.

“This is Orion,” Twilight said in a tone of strained cheerfulness. “He's my friend from the orphanage.”

The earth pony flicked his eyes briefly to Twilight, who smiled at him encouragingly. After a small, barely-noticeable sigh, Orion offered a hoof. The noble studied it, his lip curling into an involuntary grimace. When the other colt showed no sign of accepting the offered hoof, Orion scowled and planted it firmly back on the ground.

“What’s your problem?” Orion asked through gritted teeth.

The lordling raised a condescending eyebrow. “Your hoof is muddy.”

Twilight glanced at her friend’s hoof. It was a little muddy, she had to admit. Orion simply pressed his lips tightly together. “So?”

Blueblood sighed. “I shouldn't have expected someone like you to understand. As a prince of the realm, I am expected to maintain a decorous appearance at all times. Surely you don't expect me to sully my hoof with that filth."

Orion flinched at that, a flash of anger slipping past his facade as if some mental gear had suddenly snapped. “What do you mean ‘someone like me’?” he growled, biting off each word.

“Orion, he didn't—” Twilight tried, but Blueblood rolled right over her. The prince tut-tutted and rolled his eyes.

"I suppose it's too much to ask for a commoner to understand the pressures and obligations of nobility. I order you to go wash your hooves immediately."

“You order me?” Orion scoffed and narrowed his eyes at the noblecolt. “You can’t order me around like one of your servants!”

“You forget your place, earth pony.” The prince took a bold step toward the colt. “Allow me to re-educate you. There is a strict hierarchy in this country, and you would do well to abide by it.”

“This isn’t Konnica,” Orion snapped back. “We're not your serfs. What are you going to do? Arrest me?”

Blueblood's self-satisfied indifference was receding fast. “Test me, peasant. See if I don't.”

Twilight could see the situation spiralling out of control, but she was helpless to stop it. She doubted the dirty hoof even mattered anymore; Orion wouldn't offer it again, and even if he were to clean up first, Blueblood wouldn't shake without a full apology that her friend would never give. She glanced between the colts, watching Orion's facade crumble as bottled-up anger bubbled to the surface, and Blueblood's own studied calm disintegrated in the face of frustrated privilege. Perhaps if she let them argue it out, they could all just walk away?

“What’s the matter, afraid to get dirty?” Orion casually lifted his hoof and flicked a couple of specks of mud at Blueblood. Twilight winced as they hit the young prince’s coat.

“How dare you!” Blueblood roared. “I should have you charged with assault!” The unicorn furiously but carefully scraped the dirt off of his coat with magic. Then he turned to Twilight, a nasty smirk on his muzzle.

Whoa! Leave me out of this!

“You'd best stay close to me, slathered in mud like that,” he said. “Dirt tends to make earth ponies rather amorous, and you've nopony else here to protect you from this ruffian's base instincts.”

Twilight's mouth worked without sound, her face exploding in a fierce blush as Orion stepped forward, his muzzle almost touching the unicorn colt's, no longer trying to conceal his feelings. “You pompous little son of a nag!” he snarled. “I should buck your flank clear off the mountain!”

“Oh? Am I supposed to be afraid of you?” The unicorn puffed out his chest, ignoring the name-calling with a sneer. “Don't you know who I am? My father is Blueblood the Ninth, Duke of Canterlot and Prince of Unicorns. I am one of the most important and well-bred ponies in Equestria. Who are you? The spawn of a couple of dirt-farming, nopony peasants?"

Orion flinched again, and the anger drained out of his face, replaced by a blank, frozen expression she had never seen before. This wasn't the stoic mask that Orion used to hide his feelings – it was something completely different. Not a veneer of indifference, but a vast, terrifying coldness that went all the way to the core. Blueblood clearly didn't recognise the difference; he ploughed ahead recklessly, eyes sparkling with malicious glee.

"Oh, I'm so sorry. I just assumed you know who your parents were. Silly me, I forgot you were an orph–"

A white hoof shot out and struck Blueblood in the muzzle. There was an audible crunch. The unicorn colt stumbled backwards, clutching his nose, and slumped down in shock and sudden pain. Twilight heard herself gasp seconds late and blinked in disbelief, her brain refusing to register what just happened. Blueblood had undeniably gone too far, but she'd never expected Orion to actually hit him! Despite all this, the white earth colt looked calmer than ever. He lowered his hoof to the ground and walked slowly towards the downed prince. Blueblood stared up at him, fear as clear on his face as the trail of bright crimson that trickled down his lip. Stopping a foot in front of him, Orion just looked down and spoke in a monotone voice.

“Don’t talk about my parents, understand?”

The silence that hung in the willow grove was unbearable. Twilight sidled up to Orion and bit her lip, uncertain whether to call down her friend, apologise to the other unicorn, or just flee the scene altogether. Blueblood still seemed to be in shock. Orion was still staring down at him with those dead eyes. Her hoof shaking, Twilight reached out and lightly touched her friend on the shoulder.

That seemed to break the spell. Orion blinked and looked up, the horrible dead expression falling away as he registered her touch. The colt offered her something approaching a comforting smile. It was only then that Blueblood seemed to return to himself.

“You homicidal psychopath!” He clambered to his hooves, stumbling over himself as he scrambled away from the other colt and twisted to run. “The guards will arrest you and you’ll go to jail forever!”

Twilight's heart skipped a beat. If he did go to the guards, they would all get in trouble. She doubted Nightmare Moon would abandon her over this, but Orion could indeed go to jail, or prison, or... worse. Whatever the case, her friend would certainly never be allowed to visit again.

A friend has attacked a noblepony, the Empress said inside her head. If the noble fetches a guard, he will be jailed. You may use no magic. How do you save him?

“Stop,” she said, the first words she had spoken since the argument – the fight – began. She was surprised how steady her voice sounded. It was a calm, certain tone that presumed obedience and brooked no argument. Just like Nightmare Moon's.

Blueblood turned to her, incredulous. “Excuse me?”

The little unicorn took a bold step forward, a frown settling on her brow. “You will not call the guards.”

Blueblood's eyes widened. “You can’t stop me. He hit me! I have every right to put this thug to justice.”

A euphoric sensation fell over Twilight. Though her heart pounded with terror, she had to fight to keep a wondering grin off her face. He obeyed! I said stop and he stopped! “I’ll tell the Empress that Orion was only protecting me. That you came here to take revenge on me for your embarrassment with the table, and he hit you because you were trying to hurt me.”

“You… wouldn’t dare…” the noblepony gasped, but his voice trembled with uncertainty.

Twilight took another step forward. “I do dare. Orion will back me up. Who will they believe: the Empress's bookish little student and her orphan friend, or a spoiled, self-important princeling who's known for throwing his weight around?”

“I… I…” Blueblood seemed to be choking now.

“Go. Go home. I don’t want to see you again for the rest of the week,” Twilight ordered. The white noble unicorn began slinking away, staring at her like she'd sprouted another horn. If anything, he looked more terrified of her than of Orion. “And if anypony asks about the broken nose, tell them you fell.”

And then he was gone. Twilight stared after him, wobbling a little on her hooves as the adrenaline faded and the enormity of what she'd just done fell on her. She panted like she'd run half a mile, swallowing hard as her lunch threatened to come back up. At the same time, the glow of victory buzzed in her head. It was actually very... satisfying to lord it over Blueblood like that; cut him down to size, in a manner of speaking. The sense of power was intoxicating.

“Wow, Twi,” Orion said. “I didn’t know you could be so... assertive!”

Twilight’s ears flattened sheepishly. “I… neither did I. Oh, I’m sorry, Orion! I just really didn’t want you to get in trouble.”

The bristly-maned colt nodded sagely. “It’s all right, Twilight. I appreciate it, I really do.” He gave a smile that seemed to take a substantial effort for him to maintain. “I’m sure Blueblood will think twice before coming after you again.”

“Yeah… I think he’ll leave me alone for a while. I hope so, anyway.” Twilight sighed and looked at him with serious eyes. “We should head back to my room now. I need to get cleaned up.”

Orion just nodded and followed her out of the glade. Their journey back to the Royal Apartments was a quiet one, both busy with their thoughts. Twilight, now more than ever, wanted to know what it was that made Orion so withdrawn, so emotionally isolated. She had rarely known him to connect with anything or anypony besides herself. She always wondered if it had something to do with his parents, and his violent outburst just confirmed that theory. Twilight considered letting him brood, but by the time they reached the Royal Apartments, she had decided to at least ask him about it.

Orion silently plunked down on the edge of the bed, staring at his hooves as she stepped into the en suite bathroom to wash up. Ten minutes later, as she trotted out with a towel rubbing itself against her damp mane, he hadn't moved a muscle. Twilight tossed the towel away and climbed up beside him. She watched him for a couple of minutes, waiting for the colt to say something. Anything. He didn't even acknowledge her presence.

“Orion, I know it’s probably the last thing you want to talk about, but I think you really need to,” she began. “It’s not good to bottle these things up, and I… I can be your shoulder to lean on, if you want it.” He finally looked up at her and she continued, encouraged. “I just want to know. I want to try and understand so you don’t have to be alone in this.”

There was another long silence. The colt stared through her for a long time, then finally closed his eyes and released a heavy sigh. Opening them again, he told her everything.

“We lived in Ponyville until a couple of years ago.” He spoke in an even, detached tone, his face like a statue's; not even a twitch betraying his feelings.  “Mom and Dad said they wanted to come here to be closer to their customers and suppliers. I didn’t want to come. I wanted to stay with my friends back in Ponyville. I probably would have stayed with relatives, if I had any. But I didn't, so I went with them. We got an apartment in the Artisan’s Quarter. I didn’t make many friends. There weren’t many kids near us, and my parents decided to home school me.”

He snorted out a gust of air from his nostrils. “But I think you put that much together already. The apartment building we lived in caught fire. I don’t know how. The authorities never told me. It started from the bottom, so there was no escape. It spread too fast for anypony to react. The first we knew about it, it was in our apartment. The fire was everywhere. Mom passed out from the smoke. I was trying to wake her up, but Dad pulled me off her. He looked at me with a face I’ll never forget. He was sad, so sad, but determined beyond all else. He was wheezing from the smoke as he told me he loved me, and then... he got me out.”

Despite Twilight's horror, the colt's voice never wavered, a monotone recitation. “He teleported me out of the building just as the fireponies arrived. It was too late for everypony else. Since I had no relatives, they put me in the orphanage.” He fell silent for a few heartbeats. “And that’s it.”

Twilight was stunned. She had known his parents were dead – why else would he have been placed in the foster home? But she literally couldn’t imagine what it must have been like to see his parents die like that; to experience the horror of death up close. For her, 'parents' were an abstract thing, something other ponies had but she didn't. The closest thing she could imagine would be losing her magic. What was worse, Twilight realised; he still hadn't really opened up to her. Verbally, he had given her what she asked for, but he kept the emotions at arm's length. The filly scooted closer to him on the bed and wrapped her forelegs around him, pressing her neck to his.

“Orion, I’m so sorry. I didn’t realise.”

Silently, tentatively, the white colt leaned into the embrace, resting his chin on her shoulder. Slowly, he wrapped his own hooves around her, and then, like willow leaves stirred by a breath of wind, his shoulders silently started to shake. Twilight felt the tears fall on her, but heard no sobs or noises from her friend. She held him tight, doing the only thing she could do for him, a friend trying to comfort a friend. They remained like that for some time, still and without a sound.
> A Girl's Night Out
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chapter Eight:

A Girl’s Night Out


Bells began to ring. Their tolling echoed throughout Canterlot, calling ponies to finish up their activities and chores. Nightmare Moon’s chariot rumbled over the city’s cobbles, drawn by a pair of her faithful Honour Guards toward one of the oldest buildings in the city. The Great Chantry of Canterlot was a massive complex of white marble and gleaming silver, its tall spires and graceful domes crowned with lance-like points, as though to guide the viewer’s eyes toward the stars above. The largest building in the city dedicated to the Enlightened Way predated even the palace itself, and indeed most of the city itself. Technically, at least. Repairs from centuries of wars and natural disasters had probably replaced every stone at least thrice over, with the exception of a few deep chambers and inner walls. Still, the spirit of the place flourished despite the ages.
 
The chariot pulled up in front of the Chantry’s grand doors, a massive but perfectly balanced pair of oaken gates, heavily carved with flowing, detailed geometric patterns. A portico held up by columns twisted to resemble unicorn horns stretched out from the facade, flanked by a pair of marble alicorns standing rampant with their wings spread wide and muzzles raised in triumph.
 
The throng of citizens outside the Great Chantry parted as the Empress stepped out of her chariot, followed by the soft clatter of little Twilight Sparkle hopping down at her hooves. It had taken only a little effort to overcome the filly’s scepticism toward religion with the lure of a new experience, and that was all the opening Nightmare Moon needed to introduce her to the Way. It had been considerably more difficult to convince her to wear a formal dress for the service. Even now, Twilight constantly shifted and plucked at the simple yellow silk outfit with her magic, grimacing at its unaccustomed bulk.
 
The Inquisitor followed her and took a place at her side, looking very official in his sharp matte black waistcoat, tidy, white shirt and red silk tie. He even wore the long, deep crimson cloak that she had suggested he wear to public events years ago. The outfit had quickly become the preferred garb of the chancellor – at least, when he needed to be seen by the people in an official light. Usually, the stallion opted for the foreboding black uniform of the Overwatch commander. She knew he was only here as a formality – and to annoy North Star. The Inquisitor made it clear from the start that he disliked the idea of the Enlightened Way. He was ambivalent at best on the idea of venerating long-gone alicorn spirits, and when he was having a bad night, outright scornful.
 
The milling throng gradually fell in behind them as the doors opened to the Empress. Before she crossed the threshold, she paused to exchange pleasantries with the ponies who would lead the service. Nightmare Moon knew each of them as pillars of the religious community of Canterlot. A cerulean blue earth stallion was dressed in robes of silvery-white embroidered with curling, abstract patterns. The brown trim on his robe indicated his status as the Chanter of the ceremony. Next to him was Hierophant North Star. Her robes were similar, but trimmed with indigo, denoting her high status in the Enlightened Way. As Canterlot was not her diocese, though, she would only assist in the night’s ceremonies. A pegasus mare, crimson red with a beautiful golden-blond mane, would be leading the service. She wore robes of the same silk as the other two, but her patterns were picked out in golden thread. This was High Praise, the High Priestess of Canterlot. The rest of the small group of clergy wore similar robes, all with different trim and patterns signifying their positions and jobs.
 
“I am looking forward to tonight’s service, Your Reverence,” Nightmare Moon smiled at the mare with hair of liquid gold.
 
The High Priestess bowed courteously, as did all her retinue. “I hope you will enjoy it, Your Majesty.” The mare stood again and smiled down at the wide-eyed lavender unicorn clinging close to Nightmare Moon’s silver-shod hoof. “Is this your new student?”
 
“Yes, this is Twilight Sparkle.” Her student offered an adorable bob of a curtsey. “She was quite reluctant to come at first; she isn’t very religious, I think.” The Empress offered an apologetic look, which Twilight mirrored with a blush. “But she is open to possibilities. I hope she will learn something of value from this service.”
 
The High Priestess smiled politely. “Then I will ask the Ascended to touch her with their inspiration. Provided her mind is open, of course.”
 
“Of course, Reverence. Shall we?”
 
The pegasus mare nodded and led the way through the massive doors of the Chantry. The Queen of the Night walked forward with the careful, graceful strides and practised composure of a royal appearing in public. Every motion was calculated to exude calm, regal authority. Twilight trotted quietly and timidly next to her, looking painfully aware of the number of eyes on her. The Inquisitor’s gait and posture, on the other hoof, were as bold and carefree as if they walked alone in the halls of the palace. He seemed completely indifferent to the scrutiny that followed the trio, and evincing no interest in the aristocratic art of Being Seen. Nightmare Moon watched the ashen stallion from the corner of her eye as he gazed absently ahead, most likely bored out of his mind.
 
Realising she was staring at her chancellor, Nightmare Moon pulled her eyes away from him and let them wander the interior of the Chantry instead. It was massive; so vast that it could likely swallow up a certain gargantuan serpent with plenty of room to spare. Pillars, thick and grooved with spiralling lines, stretched skyward to support the domed ceiling. The walls and ceiling of the building were covered in geometric patterns wherever they weren't carved to depict mythical heroes and historical figures long since passed on to the Eternal Herd. The stained glass windows boasted epic scenes; the Enlightenment and evolution of the first alicorns, the birth of the first generation of alicorn foals, and the ultimate Ascension of all but… well. The windows depicted all but one. Nightmare Moon’s gaze flicked quickly to the next tall, narrow window, where a myriad of creatures – ponies, dragons, griffons, bovines, deer and canines alike – held at bay a vast, ruby-eyed silhouette crowned with broad pegasus wings and a horn as long and sharp as a lance.
 
Just beyond the doors, a large, elegantly simple fountain bubbled water into a deep basin, which funnelled it into several low, wide fonts. Nightmare Moon stepped up to the largest and picked up one of the washcloths stacked in a nearby basket to begin her ablutions. She worked slowly for Twilight’s benefit, the little foal imitating her ritual cleansing.
 
She dipped the cloth into the water and ran the cloth down her forehead and muzzle, then stooped to wipe each of her hooves. Beside her, Twilight squeezed her eyes shut and vigorously scrubbed her face, but looked up quickly as if afraid she would miss something. The Empress flashed a smile to the filly as she wet the cloth a second time, using it to moisten the top of her head, then her ears and finally the nape of her neck. She deposited the cloth in an empty tub as she stepped back, making way for others while she waited for the clergy to finish their purification. The Inquisitor already stood aside, long since finished with his own rituals.
 
The Empress led her group to the front of the Chantry, pausing just short of the dais that was the domain of the clergy. Above them, the main dome bulged out into an apse cupping a huge statue of an alicorn. The marble giant shone white, a fatherly stallion with a short beard and a stern gaze offset by his gentle smile. His wings stretched out to either side, nearly touching the edges of the vault, and his gilded mane and tail, though cut short, were carved to suggest the shimmering, ethereal quality of a fully-powered alicorn's hair. One hoof was raised to rest on a massive stone tome.
 
Nightmare Moon bowed her head before the statue while the clergy, stepping up onto the platform, prostrated themselves under its paternal stare. The Empress took her place on the lone extra-large prayer mat, lying down with her legs folded underneath her. Twilight sat to her right, shifting awkwardly in her dress again. The Inquisitor hesitated for a moment to whisper something to Hierophant North Star before they parted ways and he eased down on the Empress’s other side.
 
Starting from the back, the Chantry began to fill with masses of ponykind. Hundreds, then thousands of congregants seated themselves on prayer mats as neatly-folded washcloths dwindled and used ones heaped up by the fountain. At last, a low, bell-like tone reverberated in the air, the Chantry’s ancient spells alerting the clergy that the service was full. Two acolytes set their hooves against the huge doors and slowly swung them closed.
 
Nightmare Moon and her small entourage sat at the front of the Chantry, where the mats were reserved by custom for Very Important Ponies – political leaders, aristocrats, and wealthy and influential ponies of every stripe. None, however, wore their usual ostentatious outfits or gaudy jewellery. Here, beneath the stone gaze of All-Wise Arche, all the affectations of the secular world were as meaningful as the glitter of a particularly shiny grain of sand on the beach.
 
Soon, the sound of shuffling ponies ceased and silence filled the hall. All attention fell on the apse, where the clergy had gathered around the altar, facing the congregation. Smiling, the High Priestess stepped forward.
 
“Welcome all, to this Lastnight service. Please rise,” she said, her voice echoing through the halls with magical amplification. Everypony stood up. “May the light of the stars be ever with you.”
 
“To guide us on our path,” the gathered ponies chorused. Twilight’s response was slightly behind the rest.
 
“May you find your way to inner peace.”
 
“And reach the heavens and beyond.”
 
The High Priestess picked up her hymn book and turned the page, prompting the congregation to do the same with the book that accompanied each mat. Nightmare Moon flipped open the book and held it open on one hoof as North Star began to sing.
 
Unaccompanied, voices rose to join the Hierophant’s. Soft and shaky at first, ponies soon fell into rhythm and their song grew more confident and cohesive. By the first chorus, there were no longer many voices. Instead, there was only a single, powerful voice. It was deep and high, nasal and brassy and melodic all at once. It sang of peace and cooperation, and of love and passion in all things. Together, the congregation made the music of faith, and for a few minutes, they were as one.
 
As the introductory hymn ended, the voice of All gradually crumbled back into individual sounds, and those sounds died away into echoes under the high dome. The High Priestess lifted a hoof, gently motioning for the congregation to lie back down. Silence reigned for a moment, until the stallion in the brown-trimmed robe stepped to the front of the dais, a book resting on his back. The other white-draped ponies retreated to prayer mats of their own.
 
The cerulean stallion reverently placed the book on the lectern, opened it to a bookmarked page, then closed his eyes, his face full of sombre passion. He breathed deeply several times, then started chanting. It was slow and deep, a throaty sound that was almost a hum; soft, but pervasive. The slow tones filled the room and poured into Nightmare Moon’s ears, as if poetry had been melted down until it flowed like a liquid. The haunting, beautiful tones and the stallion’s deep voice resonated throughout the atrium. The Empress glanced to Twilight, who listened with a rapt expression to the soft, impassioned chant.
 
The spellbinding recitation of the words written by the progenitor of the alicorns, Arche, was not performed Equine. Instead, the Chanter spoke an ancient clerical language developed by the Way long, long ago – even before Nightmare Moon was born. It had remained largely unchanged in all that time, though the Empress could detect the influence of a particularly old dialect of the poetic Hisani language in the pronunciation. The rich tones of the chant told of what enlightenment entailed, and how Arche – He Who Led the Way – gathered knowledge and power from all corners of the world to evolve himself from earth pony to alicorn, finding enlightenment soon after.
 
While most could not understand the words, their meaning was not important. The focus was on the song itself; the lilting of the voice and the emotion behind the Chant. The words might as well have been gibberish, as long as it helped to calm the soul and clear the mind. Nightmare Moon closed her eyes and let the Chant rock her like the gentle bobbing of a boat at sea.
 
The Chant came to an end all too soon. As the echoes of the stallion’s resonant words faded, the clergy stood once more and drew together to begin another hymn. The Empress felt a smile tug at her lips. The song was one of her favourites; a paean to the beauty of the night sky and the stars – the last physical remnants of Ascended alicorns. It expressed the hope that the singer might one night follow in Arche’s hoofprints, finding enlightenment and ultimately Ascending to light a star of their own.
 
As the music died down, High Praise returned to the front of the platform and gazed out at the uncountable throng that had gathered in the temple. The High Priestess scanned the crowd for a few moments, locking eyes for an instant with Nightmare Moon herself. I wonder which tale she will recount tonight, the Empress thought. She had heard them all innumerable times, of course, but the alicorn loved to hear them retold all the same. Each one could be turned and examined to contemplate any of a thousand different facets. The High Priestess focussed her gaze above the heads of the audience with a smile, then began the Inspiration.
 
“Long ago,” she began, her voice hushed yet ringing in the silence like a triumphant shout, “the great Arche was teaching his disciples by the shore of a lake. Eusebeia said to him, ‘I am a powerful unicorn, skilled in many types of magic, and yet I am bound to the earth. The pegasi live in their cloud cities high above us, weaving rain and forging lightning. You say that our peoples should work together as one, but how could ponies so different from one another ever cooperate?’
 
“Arche pointed to the lake and told them a story. ‘A heron was attempting to catch fish in a lake much like this one. However, the fish were too crafty, and they knew not to go near the heron and hid deep under the water. The heron soon grew hungry and unhappy. His weeping was heard by a much larger fish, who asked him what was wrong. When he explained his problem, the large fish confessed that he, too, could not catch the smaller fish to eat; they were quicker than he, and fled to the shallows where he could not go. So they came to an agreement to work together and set about planning how to catch the fish.
 
“The large fish chased the others from the deeps into the shallows, where the heron could pluck them out with his beak. Together, they caught a great haul, and together they feasted; coming to an arrangement that evening, they agreed to help one another whenever either was hungry. If a fish and a heron can work together, how much more should two ponies?’” The High Priestess smiled and continued. “Arche told his disciples that nature can yield examples of cooperation and harmony between many different animals; this is how all creatures should treat one another. All people, individuals and groups alike, can find balance and harmony no matter how different they seem. Cooperation and friendship can overcome any obstacle.”
 
The High Priestess paused for effect, letting the story sink in. In the pause, Nightmare Moon noticed a movement in the corner of her eye. Twilight’s head began drooping downwards. Nightmare Moon nudged the filly awake with her wing, shooting her a pointed frown. Twilight flinched at the touch, a shamed blush springing up on her face as she met the Empress’s stern eyes. Nightmare Moon turned back to the golden-maned orator. The Inspiration continued on the themes of love and friendship, with the alicorn only slightly distracted by keeping an eye on Twilight. Finally, the High Priestess gestured for the assembly to rise and began one final song. Like the sermon, the song was about harmony and mutual good will, an oddly joyful tune compared to the solemnity of the ceremony.
 
High Praise made one final address as the rest of the clergy retreated to their own mats. “As music evokes our outer emotions, let Silence and meditation bring forth our inner selves. Now is the time to pray, to think and to meditate.” Then she too lay down.
 
An intense stillness filled the Chantry. Nightmare Moon settled back down on her mat like those around her, but Twilight was fidgeting and shuffling to her right, peaking at the ponies around her and trying to imitate their postures. The Empress craned her head down to the unicorn.
 
“What is the matter, Twilight?” she whispered.
 
“I don’t know… how do I meditate?” the lavender foal asked.
 
Nightmare Moon briefly surveyed the sea of ponykind around them, then smiled softly. “Just relax, clear your mind and focus on your breathing. Allow your spirit and mind to loosen and flow freely. Now, we must be quiet.”
 
Twilight nodded and finally relaxed into a comfortable posture, closing her eyes and breathing deeply in and out. Nightmare Moon, content that her student was using the Silence properly, turned her attention to her own devices.
 
At first, the alicorn tried to meditate. She looked inwardly, into her mind. She pictured it as a door, containing all her doubts, fears and worries. Nightmare Moon tentatively opened the door of her inner thoughts, but dared only the quickest of peeks. Closing it all off again, she pushed the feelings to the back of her mind, sighed, and started over relaxing herself.
 
Her meditations only went on for a short while until before she gave up on them, frustrated with her own inability to loosen up. Suppressing a loud another sigh, Nightmare switched to her preferred alternative to alleviate her worries. Bowing her head, she instead focussed on picturing the stars. She imagined she could reach out and touch them; linking them, reach through them, to commune with the beings that created them. Nightmare Moon slowly brought her fears to mind, and voiced them in prayer one by one.
 
Ancestors, I pray that you may help me stay on the right path as I lead my little ponies. I hope that I can have the strength to make the right decisions… and that I have made the right decisions. The Empress found her thoughts drifting to the filly that lay quietly next to her. I hope I can teach Twilight Sparkle well, and make her the best she can be. Grant guidance to me and to her as she learns and grows. There was a lull in her prayer, and she found herself unwilling to say any more, even in the privacy of her own mind. The Empress shied away from the door in the back of her mind, pushed it away from even her prayers. Yet there was still one more thing she had to say, one last request for her Ancestors which she never neglected. And please tell Winter Storm I still love him, whichever heaven he may inhabit...

She opened her eyes again, her attempt at meditation as brief as usual, and simply watched the other ponies around her. Up on the dais, the Hierophant fairly trembled with zeal, her lips moving in silent prayer. To Nightmare’s left, the Inquisitor lay on his mat, spotlighted by a beam of moonlight shining through one of the windows. A glint of the moonbeam caught her attention – the Inquisitor’s eye, barely cracked open, watching Hierophant North Star in her fervent meditations. She flicked her gaze to Twilight, who was squirming again under the heavy stillness of such a large congregation.
 
Just then, the High Priestess’s voice cut through the silence, a mere murmur filling the Chantry with echoes. “The doors will now open, but you are welcome to stay as long as you wish. Wherever your path leads, may you walk the Way.”
 
Twilight jolted, immediately beginning to rise to her hooves, but stopped half-way and looked to Nightmare Moon for approval. Smiling reassuringly, the Empress nodded and also stood up. The Inquisitor was already on his hooves, watching the exchange with that maddening smirk of his. She paused to stretch her neck, relishing the feeling of limbering up even a little after so long lying down. The alicorn noticed that a great many ponies were already pouring out. Once upon a time, they’d have waited for her to leave first. But everypony was so busy these nights, begrudging even the hour or so spent in the service. She sometimes wondered why they bothered to attend at all, if they weren't truly prepared to strive for enlightenment in the first place.
 
And I’m one to talk, she added bitterly to herself.
 
As she turned to the exit, out of the corner of her eye Nightmare Moon spotted North Star rise from her own mat and make her way towards her. Ancestors above, can I not have even a single minute of peace? The Empress stifled a groan, praying the fuschia unicorn was just there for the Inquisitor. Maybe if I walk fast enough I can get out before she catches up. Or I can teleport Twilight and I out of here, or maybe–
 
“Your Holiness, may I have a word?”
 
Pushing away the sudden urge to see if the Royal Canterlot Voice could physically hurl a pony against the wall if she screamed loud enough, Nightmare turned and gave the Hierophant a smile as sincere as the Inquisitor’s reasons for coming to the Chantry. The unicorn mare either accepted the gesture at face value, or her cutie mark should have been a set of comedy and tragedy masks. She bowed deeply and returned a smile of frankly sickening adoration.
 
 “What can I do for you?” the Empress prompted, her smile beginning to flake at the edges.
 
“I have not had much time to talk with you,” the Hierophant said, straightening up again. “Might I beg a few moments of your time in private, one on one? Sometime soon?”
 
“Ooh, I don’t know, Hierophant.” Her eyes flicked over to the Inquisitor, who was watching them with an amused smirk on his face. Take her off my hooves, Inquisitor! I beg you! “I will have to check my schedule, and I’m afraid I do not have it with me.”
 
“I see… may I ask you something else?” she looked up at the Empress with a hopeful smile.
 
If it were anypony else, Nightmare Moon would have likely snapped at her and sent her away immediately. But not only was North Star a member of her closest circle, she also had a certain… fragility where Nightmare Moon was concerned. North Star could be as devious and cutthroat as any member of her privy council – one had to be, in order to get that close to the Empress of Equestria – but the fuchsia mare would take deeply to heart any hint of scolding or flash of temper from her, and likely brood over her supposed transgression for nights afterward. North Star literally worshipped Nightmare Moon, which was both flattering and intensely annoying for the alicorn.
 
She nodded, pressing her lips together tightly. “Be brief.”
 
“Would it be at all possible for me to oversee Twilight Sparkle’s spiritual education?” North Star asked. “Of course you know the depth of insight that I can offer her, and I am certain you would appreciate having more spare time.”
 
Ah, so that’s her angle. I don’t think I’ll let you brainwash my student, thank you very much. “I am afraid not, Hierophant. I am quite satisfied that Twilight will be receiving a superior education, and while I do appreciate your offer, I do not desire any help.”
 
The cult leader gave a quick but low bow. “Of course, Your Holiness. If I may ask, will you be interested in attending a service of the Cult Imperia as the guest of honour? I am sure it would be a very positive experience for Twilight Sparkle, if you decide to bring her along too.”
 
“I’ll think about it. Good night, Hierophant,” Nightmare Moon gave a curt, dismissive nod and turned back to the exit.
 
“Oh, one more thing, Your Holiness!”
 
The alicorn gave an inaudible hiss as she wheeled around. Cheimon take her! What does she want now? “Yes?” She forced a smile.
 
North Star’s horn flashed and a satchel appeared, hovering next to her. From the bag she pulled a thick tome, the pages pristine though the cover was cracked with age. Next to the alicorn, Twilight perked up at the sight of the volume.
 
“I have a gift here for Twilight Sparkle,” she levitated the tome to the filly. “A first-edition copy of ‘The Magic of the Immortals’ by Starswirl the Bearded.”
 
“For… me?” Gasping, the little unicorn accepted the gift with a smile so wide it seemed to truly stretch from ear to ear. Nightmare Moon couldn’t help but genuinely smile at her student’s joy. The Empress shifted her gaze to the lavender-maned priestess, who was peering up at the alicorn with a hopeful grin fixed across her face.
 
“Thank you, North Star, that is very thoughtful of you.” There was a moment’s pause, and Nightmare Moon glanced down at the filly. She had already opened the book and begun reading. Nightmare cleared her throat and gave the filly an arch look. “What do we say to Miss Star, Twilight?”
 
Her student snapped out of her trance with a blush and a stammer. “Oh! I, um… thank you, Miss Star.”
 
“It is the least I can do for you, Twilight Sparkle,” North Star replied, before turning back to her Empress. “If there is anything else I can give you, Your Holiness, or anything I can do for you, please don’t hesitate to ask.”
 
It was then that the Inquisitor finally chose to insert himself into the conversation. He sidled up next to North Star, who gave him a strange little half-smile, her eyes sparking with something between anger and anticipation. The Hierophant had strange reactions to some ponies, especially the Inquisitor. Nightmare Moon could usually read her easily; for instance, Marshal Silverstar provoked in the Hierophant a simple, barely-contained loathing with his brutally secular, down-to-earth ways. But with the Inquisitor, North Star was all over the place, her face contorting from polite propriety to irritation to playful amusement as they talked.
 
“I think, Hierophant,” the grey stallion put in, “That Her Majesty will probably want to leave now. Anyway, your discussion is disturbing Those Who Stayed.” He gestured to the silent, deeply concentrating worshippers still lying on their prayer mats, the capital letters clearly audible in his tone.
 
North Star shot him a look of shocked outrage, quickly quashed as she bowed once more to the alicorn. “Of course! I am terribly sorry to detain you for so long, Your Holiness,” she said, without a trace of irony that the Empress could detect.
 
Nightmare Moon gave a dismissive wave of her hoof. “Think nothing of it. Thank you again for your gift. And your… kind offer.”
 
North Star turned to the Inquisitor, who looked at her with a thin, bland smile. “Inquisitor, I would like a word with you outside.”
 
The stallion let a resigned gust of air out from his nostrils. “If we must, Hierophant.” He gave a sweeping motion to the exit with a leg. “Shall we?”
 
The two walked off, the unicorn mare bobbing her head one last time to the Empress, leaving Nightmare Moon alone with Twilight in the middle of the Chantry. She sighed, relieved, and turned to the little filly beside her. Twilight had once again buried her nose in Starswirl’s book. The black alicorn smiled and lowered her head to Twilight’s level.
 
“Twilight?” she whispered. The filly jolted out of her book.
 
“Yes, Your Majesty?” she gazed up into the draconic eyes of the Empress.
 
“How would you like to get some ice cream?”
 
Twilight’s face lit up and she let out a giddy squeal. She immediately slapped a hoof over her mouth, but the high-pitched noise of delight still echoed through the building for several seconds. The filly looked up at Nightmare Moon with a furious blush and nodded.
 
Nightmare Moon did her best not to laugh.
 
==========
  
The Inquisitor didn’t really know where North Star was taking him. At first he thought she was leading him back to the palace, walking past the great, lavish houses of the Canterlot bourgeoisie. But then the Hierophant veered left onto a side street and weaved off through the lanes and back streets of Canterlot.
 
It was only a few blocks later, however, that North Star halted and turned to him with an impish grin. The Inquisitor arched a cynical eyebrow. “Really, Hierophant? A park?”
 
In truth, it was more garden than park. The wide flower beds and topiary bushes were carefully sculpted and groomed, managed by a team of public servants funded by the influential ponies of Canterlot. Unlike the more public parks near the Academy, this was a garden reserved for the elite of Canterlot. While not quite as breathtakingly beautiful as the royal gardens of the Imperial Palace, it was definitely quite a step up from the parks frequented by dog-walkers and Frisbee-playing foals.
 
“Why not? It is certainly better than a meeting in some stuffy old room… unless it’s a cosy drawing room by the fire. Actually, that does sound quite nice. Delightfully informal, wouldn’t you say?” she mused absent-mindedly.
 
The Inquisitor sighed and held his tongue, wondering whether he could teleport back to the palace to escape her. No, she’d just hunt me down again later. I might as well get this over with while I’m here. They continued walking, his eyes fixed straight ahead whilst North Star’s gaze darted from flowers to moon to statuary with apparently honest appreciation. It soon became apparent that she was content to simply waste his time. He was a busy pony, and he had paperwork to file. But even more than having his time wasted, he hated to let himself be goaded. Eventually, though, the mare’s silence and the passage of time pressed him into speaking first.
 
“Hierophant.” He stopped suddenly and narrowed his eyes at the mare. She turned to face him with a lazy, serene expression. “Are we here for a meeting, or are you content merely to keep me from finishing my work tonight?”
 
“Oh, Inquisitor!” She smiled pleasantly, though her voice was thick with feigned disappointment. “And here I thought we were having fun walking in this quiet park…” Her tone shifted to a romantic sing-song, though the Inquisitor thought he detected an edge of mockery. “Just you and I and the birds…”
 
The grey stallion managed a smirk as he glanced toward a clock tower in the distance. “And here I thought you had something important to discuss.” She muttered something under her breath. “What was that?” The Inquisitor snapped out as smoothly as he could.
 
“Oh, nothing, nothing. As a matter of fact, I did. We haven’t had a proper conversation since Miss Twilight Sparkle arrived.”
 
“Yes, well, it seems you have me at your disposal. So what is it that weighs so heavily on your mind?”
 
The mare inched closer to him, tilting her head and narrowing her eyes. “Well, if we must get right to business, I was wondering why your rough-shod thugs have seen fit to occupy one of the Cult’s monasteries in the northern territories.”
 
“That was a necessary action, I’m afraid,” he shrugged, holding in his victorious grin. I have you now. “It is crucial to the safety of the nation that the griffon border is secured in its entirety.”
 
The Hierophant gave the Inquisitor a predatory smile. “This doesn’t have anything to do with your failure at the diplomatic conference with Rodoria and its vassals, hmmm?”
 
At least I can rely upon you to attack a weak point without deliberation. “It is possible,” he said, making his voice as stiff as his smile.
 
“And what about this talk of a bill that has been floating around the palace?”
 
“That?” the Inquisitor’s grin became livelier. “Oh, it’s just talk, Lady North Star. I wouldn’t put much stake in it if I were you.”
 
The mare sidled closer to him, her voice dropping to a husky pout. “Surely you wouldn’t support such a bill? Do you realise how much power it would give Marshall Silverstar?” A twitch of a sneer flickered briefly across her face, there and gone as quickly as a flash of lightning.
 
The Inquisitor suppressed a snort of laughter. So long as she kept her mind on Silverstar, she was as predictable as the weather. “As a matter of fact, Hierophant, such a bill would be in all of our interests. The security of the nation is paramount. Which is why I authorised the… repossession of a former Cult Imperia building.”
 
“You have no right to turn buildings dedicated to peace and enlightenment into fortresses!” North Star scowled. “And you cannot allow this bill to pass. Silverstar will benefit greatly from it, and even you know how much he hates any part of the government that isn’t beholden to his precious democratic system. Need I remind you that that accounts for over three quarters of the local governments of Equestria?”
 
“Oh, come now, Miss Star.” The Inquisitor gave a boyish grin, wondering if she needed another nudge. “You’re beginning to sound paranoid. Are you afraid Silverstar will gain so much from this bill that he’ll launch a revolution or something?”
 
“He might!”
 
Her cry was far too loud, even she knew that. The dark eyed unicorn chuckled as the priestess blushed, conscious of the possibility of her outburst being overheard by passers-by. She cast a quick spell, muting their words to those more than a few feet away. Nevertheless, the Inquisitor drew in closer to her, his voice a near-whisper.
 
“Do you even know what this proposed bill entails?” he asked.
 
The mare leaned in, a calm, coy look settling on her face. “Only snippets,” she murmured in a conspiratorial tone. “But I’m sure that you will be so very generous as to tell me what you know. You know me, Inquisitor – I can keep a secret.”
 
The black-garbed stallion drew back to keep the mare at arm’s length. “Oh, I’m sure you can, Hierophant,” he chuckled. “The question is whether I would have anything to gain from sharing with you the details of this proposal.”
 
She feigned a look of hurt. “Oh, Inquisitor! And here I thought our relationship had surpassed such venality.”

“You thought wrong,” he deadpanned, flashing a wry smirk.
 
The mare looked down thoughtfully, apparently mulling over what she could give him in exchange. Come on, North Star. You know what’s in front of me. Blueblood’s going to be enough of a problem without you supporting him. Not to mention, it was a rare opportunity for her to stand as his ally for once, though Ancestors alone knew why she was so eager for that.
 
“Very well, Inquisitor,” North Star said as she lifted her eyes back to him. “I think we can come to an arrangement.”
 
“And?” the ashen unicorn prompted.
 
“And I believe that with your help, we can develop a plan for the defence of Equestria that doesn’t hand Silverstar the keys to the kingdom.” She closed the distance between them again, her eyes alight. “I think it’s time we worked together, Inquisitor. And not just with respect to Silverstar’s little notion. Blueblood has been growing rather comfortable with his position, don’t you think? He’s sunk his claws into so much of the country. It’s time we rebalance things.”
 
The Inquisitor nodded, his smile growing a little more sincere. He had let Blueblood become far too powerful over the years, and that definitely needed fixing. The noblepony had unprecedented sway over the gentry and, more importantly, the governing lords of the provinces that still bowed to feudal aristocracy. He could command a significant portion of the Empire through charisma and wealth alone, and that was definitely something to be corrected.
 
“I agree, Lady North Star,” the stallion replied after pausing as if to think. “Perhaps we can give one another some leeway? If you can bring yourself to support a bill that benefits Silverstar, I will help you keep him aimed at Blueblood’s heart.”
 
Again she pondered. “I suppose… if you will also order your minions to leave my institutions alone.”
 
“But of course! I can’t have you deciding to stab me in the back on this, now can I?” he chuckled.
 
“Well, the old proverb is ‘the enemy of my enemy is my friend’,” the Hierophant said.

I think I prefer, ‘The enemy of my enemy is my enemy’s enemy; nothing more and nothing less.’  The Inquisitor nodded as if in agreement. “So long as it’s mutually beneficial, of course.”
 
“Oh, yes, Inquisitor. I know this is only temporary.” she flashed him a toothy smirk.  “But I enjoy a challenge. Perhaps you’ll soon find that you would prefer to keep me by your side after all.”
 
“Shall we head on over to your office to discuss the bill, then?” the Inquisitor asked, nodding towards the park’s exit. “I’m none too comfortable discussing such sensitive information out here.”
 
North Star nodded. “But of course. Lead the way.”
 
As the Hierophant walked next to him, a wicked grin spread across the Inquisitor’s face. I have my bishop now, Duke Blueblood, he thought. When I get my rook, you’ll see just how formidable my arsenal is. I’m sure your pieces won’t measure up, but I hope they do. North Star isn’t the only one who enjoys a challenge. Soon it’ll be your move, Blueblood, and it better be a good one.

==========
 
Ice cream was a wondrous creation, Twilight decided. This particular parlour boasted of products made with genuine, fresh ingredients: prime Cervidian vanilla, rich Ahuizotlan cocoa, and cream straight from the master dairy-makers in the highlands of Bovin. The sign on the wall said so. Twilight briefly glanced out the windows of the shop. A small crowd had gathered, gawkers and journalists alike, to see the Empress and her student eating ice cream. It was growing by the second. ‘Only’ a pair of Honour Guards stood at the doors, holding back the onlookers. Behind the crowd, Twilight could see several ponies peeking out of the windows of their upper-class apartment homes to see what all the fuss was about.
 
Whenever the Empress went out in public, she attracted a significant gathering. Most of them respectfully (and fearfully) kept their distance, but the crowd here pressed eagerly against the windows. Nightmare Moon stood at the counter, daintily sampling some of their best and most unique flavours. While it was obviously unusual for royalty to patronise an establishment like this, Twilight could tell that much of the gathered ponies’ attention was on her. She knew that word of her new position had spread quickly, but this was really the first time she had left the palace environs in the alicorn’s company. Everypony was staring. Not in a hostile way, just… watching her. She hoped she wouldn’t drop her ice cream.
 
The little purple unicorn’s eyes had nearly popped out when she saw the prices in the shop. They were in one of the wealthiest parts of town, sure, and it was decorated more like a fancy restaurant than an ice cream parlour, but she had never expected to see an ice cream cone that cost more than a brand-new hardcover book! She wasn’t even sure what a truffle was.
 
Of course, it’s all free, Twilight thought, a delighted twinkle in her eyes. Nopony would refuse the desires of the Empress. Twilight levitated an ice cream-filled spoon carefully to her mouth, all too wary of her delicate pastel-coloured dress. Nightmare Moon had flatly refused to let her read her new book while she was eating, no matter how careful she promised to be.
 
The Empress soon walked over to the table where Twilight was eating and sat down next to her, carrying her own bowl filled with the delicious dairy dessert.
 
“Did you enjoy the service?” Nightmare Moon asked.
 
“Um…” Twilight looked down at her bowl. “It was a little… boring, at times.”
 
Taking a peek up at her mentor, she took in the alicorn’s thoughtful expression. “But not all of it,” she added hurriedly. “I liked the… the story in the middle.”
 
“You liked tonight’s Inspiration?” she smiled wryly. “Is that why you started nodding off?”
 
Twilight bit her lip. “I… I’m sorry, Your Majesty. I won’t do it again!”
 
A faintly pained look touched the alicorn’s eyes and she raised a hoof to silence the filly. “It’s all right, Twilight, I’m not going to punish you just for that. This is for your benefit, not mine.”
 
“Oh… I’m sorry, Empress,” the filly murmured, her eyes downcast. She battled a blush from colouring her face. Stupid! Nightmare Moon isn’t like that. I shouldn’t believe all those horrid rumours about her.
 
The two sat in silence for a while after that. Nightmare Moon was doing her best to look friendly and approachable, and Twilight was doing her best to look unembarrassed. The filly’s eyes flicked back outside. There were many curious eyes looking at her through the parlour’s windows, more than she was used to. She had noticed the eyes on her since they stepped off the chariot at the Chantry, but most ponies there were too more distracted with other things to pay attention to her. Here, the expanding throng of ponies all had nothing better to do on a lazy Lastnight other than to gape at the latest piece of royalty-related gossip. Twilight did her best to ignore them, but she could feel their penetrating, insatiably curious stares.
 
“Twilight, is something wrong?” the Empress asked.
 
The filly shrugged. “Uh, no. I mean, yes – well, it’s nothing really. It’s just… everypony’s looking at us.”
 
The Empress turned to look at the crowd outside, causing quite a few of them to jolt and quickly start inspecting the sidewalk, the awning, or the guards at the door. “I suppose it must be a bit intimidating for you. I’m sorry, Twilight, I have been so used to having eyes on me constantly in public that I forgot you might not be comfortable with it.” Nightmare’s horn flashed briefly and a couple of opaque sheets of ethereal matter appeared over the windows, blotting the outside from view. “Better?” the mare asked.
 
Twilight nodded distractedly. She was fascinated, but not by the spell. At least, not as much as she was by Nightmare Moon herself. Had Twilight cast a spell like that, not only would it strain her magical talent, she would have to keep her full attention on maintaining it. But the alicorn betrayed no sign of exertion, or of even paying attention to the spell. Nothing ever seemed to strain her mentor, mentally or physically.
 
“How come you don’t have to focus on a spell like that?” she asked, causing the alicorn to pause with her spoon halfway to her mouth. “I’d never know you were maintaining it if I hadn’t seen you cast it!”
 
“It’s a technique called ‘locking’,” Nightmare Moon said with a smile. “With practice, exceptionally powerful magicians can use it to fix a spell in place without the need to focus on it.” She paused to finish her bite of ice cream, and then winked. “But I do not think you’ll be trying that for some time yet.
 
“Wow,” the filly murmured. “You made it look so easy.”
 
“Well, I am an alicorn, after all,” the Empress chuckled.
 
There wasn’t much Twilight could say to that, so she filled her mouth with her spoon instead. Of course Nightmare Moon, of all ponies, would barely need a fraction of her power for… well, any spell the filly could imagine! Still, this ‘locking’ sounded like a handy trick to learn. Her books back at the orphanage hadn’t even mentioned it.
 
The purple unicorn’s spoon fell still as she sat, peering unseeingly into her bowl. “Your Majesty?” she said at last.
 
“Yes, Twilight?” Nightmare Moon spooned another lump of ice cream into her mouth.
 
 "Would it be all right if we stop by the foster home on the way back? I haven’t really written to Miss Loch, and I’d like to say hello.”
 
The alicorn frowned faintly. “I must return to the palace soon. I have a meeting with an ambassador from Iburria. However,” she said quickly as Twilight’s expression began to fall, “I see no reason you can’t visit on your own.”
 
Twilight beamed and finished her ice cream as quickly as possible, pausing only to clutch her head in pain. The ponies behind the counter bowed as the Empress and her student rose to leave, and the opaque sheets of magic vanished as Nightmare Moon stepped through the door to the street. Several camera flashes came from the crowd, but there were no questions or autograph requests. Nopony would dare to impede the Empress of Equestria. Instead, the crowd parted quickly and politely for their monarch.
 
Nightmare Moon walked Twilight to the chariot and gestured for her to get in. The filly hopped up and made room, but blinked quizzically as her mentor failed to follow. “Aren’t you coming, Your Majesty?”
 
“No, actually. The chariot will take you straight to the orphanage. I can make my own way back to the palace,” Nightmare said.
 
“Thank you, Your Majesty.” The little unicorn bowed to Nightmare Moon.
 
“Remember, Twilight, if there is any trouble, the Honour Guards will protect you.”
 
The filly nodded, though she could hardly imagine needing it. Trouble? How in the world could there be any trouble in my own foster home? What could possibly be so bad I would need an Honour Guard to protect me? “Thank you, Your Majesty,” she said again.
 
Nightmare Moon stepped away from the chariot, and her mane and tail wrapped around her in a whirling column of purple fog. The onlookers barely had time to gasp before the whirlwind collapsed in on itself, and in a burst of magical light, the alicorn ruler vanished back to the castle. As the shock passed, the crowd of nosey ponies began to chatter among themselves, no longer restrained by the presence of Nightmare Moon. Twilight hurriedly asked her chaperones to take her to the orphanage, feeling exceptionally small without the Empress to fill up the enormous carriage.
 
With that, she was off again down the streets of the capital. The city was so vibrant; each building and pony was unique, but from the sprawling estates near the palace down to the close, plain stone buildings she had called home for most of her life, all shared a sense of pride and superiority. Whether a Canterlot pony wore a monocle and cravat or a hardhat and an orange safety vest, all could survey the land of Equestria spread out beneath them from the city’s lofty perch.
 
The journey took her to the familiar road and field that had once represented the edge of The Rest of the World, and soon she could see the foster home standing tall behind its tree-lined walls. The main building still retained a sense of its origin as a mansion owned by an influential family; it wasn't hard to see, now, the similarities between the orphanage and the homes of the wealthy in more upscale neighbourhoods.
 
As the chariot made its way along the orphanage’s private road, a group of foals stopped playing to stare at the royal vehicle, the bat-winged Honour Guards, and Twilight. The chariot came to a halt and the guards unhitched themselves from it, then moved to watch over the filly as she hopped onto the ground.
 
“Thank you, sirs,” she said. The guards’ only reply was a bow shallow enough to be considered a long nod. One posted himself resolutely by the chariot while the other silently fell in on the unicorn’s steps.
 
Twilight trotted past the foals, paying no heed to their stares. The unicorn felt the giddy, tingling sensation of nostalgic excitement as she opened the front door. Scribbling away at the reception desk was a pegasus mare. She glanced at Twilight, then back down to her papers. Then back up again with wide eyes as she registered the grey, purple-armoured pegasus next standing next to the beaming filly. The Honour Guard returned the stare with his own stony, grim gaze.
 
“Hello, Miss Harp! I’m here for a visit!” Twilight chirped, drawing the surprised mare’s attention away from the guard.
 
“Oh… well, welcome back, Twilight…” Miss Harp trailed off, throwing another brief, nervous glance at the batlike pony. “I don’t know where Miss Loch is at the moment, but, uh,  I’m sure you’ll be able to look for her if you find her – I mean, find her if you look for her!”
 
“Thank you!” the filly said, and pranced off down the hallway of the orphanage.
 
This place seems so much smaller than I thought it was. She hadn’t been gone for that long, she thought, but already life at the Imperial Palace was having an effect on her perceptions. She was so used to wandering the massive, labyrinthine corridors of the palace that navigating the foster home seemed such a trivial task in comparison.
 
Twilight’s first stop was Loch Mare’s office. She tapped on the door and was promptly rewarded with a kindly, “Come in!”
 
The familiar chocolate-coloured unicorn sat at her desk, solemnly scribbling away. The papers were likely adoption documents, or reports on the progress of the residents. Twilight had given up hope long ago that anypony would ever adopt her. Being one of the longest residents, she had seen countless other foals leave for new families and new lives. All the while, she waited for the night when Miss Loch would come to her with the news that a family decided to adopt her. But whenever prospective parents visited the orphanage, looking to adopt, they never seemed interested in her, or those who did seemed to lose their interest after meeting the other foals. But I have a new life at the Palace now. And that’s… sort of like being adopted, right? At least, someone wanted her for her talent, and that was good enough.
 
“Hello, Miss Loch!” she said. “The Empress let me come and visit.”
 
“Twilight!” The matron shot to her hooves, her expression brightening, and rounded the desk to envelop her in a warm embrace. “It’s good to see you! I missed you.”
 
“I missed you too,” Twilight said.
 
The white-haired mare stepped away from Twilight, looking her over as if to see how she’d grown in only a few weeks. “So, what have you been doing since I last saw you? Has the Empress been kind to you?”
 
Taking a great breath of air, the little unicorn chattered out a rambling account of everything that had happened to her in the month or so she had been living at the palace. She told of the many rooms, the many ponies and the many wonders she grew accustomed to under Nightmare Moon’s guardianship. When asked about her visit from Orion, the filly very carefully stuck to the meticulously false story she and her friend had devised. While she didn’t think Loch Mare would tell the Empress about her breaking into the Hesperidium and fighting with the younger Blueblood, she wasn’t about to take the risk. After she talked about her all her private lessons and the new spells she was able to perform, Twilight began to gush about Nightmare Moon – her kindness, her magnificence, and her stark, exotic beauty – oblivious to the strained look that crept over the mare’s face. She was about to mention how nice the Inquisitor turned out to be when a knock at the door interrupted her.
 
“Come in!” Loch Mare called.
 
The door opened and a cream unicorn filly practically tumbled in, blurting out her words before she even had time to register the occupants of the room. “Miss Loch, there’s a royal chariot outside and I just saw a big, scary guard–” The filly stopped and stared, then broke out in an incredibly wide grin. “Twilight!”
 
“Hi, Moondancer,” Twilight said, giving a small wave.
 
“Moondancer, what is the problem?” Loch Mare asked.
 
“Well, I was going to tell you that there’re some government ponies in armour wandering around, but now I know why!”
 
Miss Loch nodded and smiled. “Moondancer, why don’t you take Twilight to say hello to everypony else? I have some work I need to finish. Does that sound good, Twilight?”
 
“Yes, Miss Loch!”
 
The crimson-maned unicorn filly trotted up to Twilight and nudged her. “C’mon, Twilight! The others don’t know you’re here yet, and I know they’d love to hear all about the palace. Let’s go!”
 
“But…” Twilight threw a quick look to Miss Loch as she was dragged out, but the old mare simply nodded and returned to her desk.
 
The lavender unicorn soon found herself being led down the corridors of the orphanage by her flame-haired friend. Twilight turned to the Honour Guard – who maintained a steady pursuit but politely kept his distance.
 
“You can go back to your friend at the chariot,” she called to him. “I’ll be fine!”
 
The pegasus gave another of those shallow bows and spun around, then was lost to sight as Moondancer rounded a corner.
 
Soon, they were outside in the field behind the main building. The familiar sounds of running and playing foals assaulted her ears, a sound she realized she hadn’t heard since her move. Not that she missed the din. Some pegasi had brought clouds down low and were playing a minimalist version of stormball – one without a cluster of thunderclouds hanging a few metres above their heads. Others had built forts of sticks and logs under a cluster of trees, while others were playing the time-honoured game of hoofball.
 
Moondancer brought Twilight over to a chatting pair of fillies. Twilight recognised the yellow and blue foal as Lemon Hearts, and the pink-haired pony to her right was Twinkle. Moondancer and Twinkle would often pretend they were sisters to the newer residents, sharing everything in appearance apart from eye and hair colour. In fact, Twilight had noticed all three of them almost always wore their manes in the same style, and were very much alike. She often found herself wondering if they really were sisters.
 
“Hey guys, look who’s come to visit us lowly commoners!” Moondancer announced playfully.
 
“Twilight!” The two unicorn fillies rushed to Twilight and pulled her in for an enthused hug.
 
“Hi girls,” Twilight said, waving her hoof shyly.
 
“Hey, Twilight, I gotta ask, what’s with the dress?” Moondancer asked.
 
“Oh, this?” Twilight looked down at the yellow silk. “The Empress wanted me to wear something formal for Chantry services tonight.”
 
“You hung out with the Empress?” Lemon Hearts squealed at the thought.
 
“No! Well, yes, but not exactly…” Twilight sighed. “She just took me with her to the Chantry and then we went out for ice cream.”
 
Moondancer laughed. “Having ice cream with the Empress? You’ve really gone up in the world!”
 
Twilight suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. Of all the things she could possibly be impressed by, having ice cream is apparently the most important?
 
“So what’s it like living at the palace?” Lemon Hearts asked.
 
“Oh, it’s wonderful! They give you anything you want for dinner, and the rooms are so nice. The library is huge too! And the observatory is amazing! You can see the other planets really well, and–”
 
“What about the royal family?” Twinkle interjected. “Have you met any Dukes or Duchesses or knights?”
 
Twilight scrunched her face in thought. “Well… a few, I guess, but I don’t really talk to them. I did meet the Duke of Canterlot, and his son, Prince Blueblood, but–”
 
Twinkle gasped. “The Prince? What’s he like? Is he chivalrous and dashing? Is he handsome?”
 
Handsome? “Uh, well…” Twilight decided not to spoil their fantasy image of the Prince by telling them about his less that admirable personality. “I guess he’s handsome…”
 
“Are you gonna marry him?” Lemon Hearts asked.
 
"Marry him?" She restrained the urge to retch at the idea. “Why on Earth would I do that?”
 
Lemon’s eyes went wide with starry romance. “Well, he’s a prince and you’ve been adopted by the Empress, which means you’re basically a princess. Princes and princesses always get married!”
 
Twilight blanched. “She didn’t adopt me, I’m not a princess, and even if I was, I wouldn’t have to marry him.”
 
The yellow filly was about to defend her hypothesis further, until Moondancer leapt in to change the subject. “So you’ve been studying magic, huh Twilight? Know any cool spells?”
 
Twilight smiled in relief and seized the new topic. “Yes, I do! I’ve been studying non-stop ever since I moved to the palace.”
 
“Can we see one?”
 
Twilight nodded and stepped back, making room to perform. “This is what I’ve been working on the past few days.” The girls looked on intently, shuffling with anticipation. Twilight scrunched her eyes shut and focussed. Taking a relatively simple spell – a cooling spell – she applied her magic to the air. Unlike other spells, she didn't have to compensate for any changes to a thing or the environment, nor did she have to establish the parameters and rules for the spell. All she had to do was lower the temperature.

A faint haze gathered in front of her, slowly thickening into fog as the temperature fell. Twilight split her focus, sifting the water droplets out of the chilled air as it sunk and forcing them together in the middle while fresh, moist air flowed into the spell’s area. After a minute’s effort, an orb of condensed water floated in front of her. The trick won approving coos from the three unicorns.
 
She subdivided the ball into several smaller sphere and ran a few increasingly complex formations with them. A cube of eight orbs split into twenty-seven, then shifted to a hollow sphere. The sphere spun out into a flat disc, then stretched up in the middle like a spindle before she collapsed it all back into a single ball again. Moondancer, Lemon Hearts, and Twinkle stomped their hooves in applause.
 
Grinning with pride, the purple unicorn focused intently on the ball of water, trying to imagine it as lots of smaller balls all stuck together. Carefully at first, she began to mold the floating water. She smoothed it out into a flat oblong, then bit her lip as she spread one end out.
 
“It’s a fish!” gasped Twinkle, prompting ‘oohs’ from the other fillies. She mashed the water back down again like modelling clay and started a new sculpture, the tip of her tongue sticking out the corner of her mouth. The water stretched out into two thin streams, which twisted around one another in opposite directions: a double helix, spinning slowly in front of her.
 
The unicorn filly returned it to a ball and focused even harder, her horn shedding sparks as she molded the liquid once more, creating the most complex form yet. A bulb at one end, a tube at the other, four more tubes hanging below it… and a rippling, transparent pony took shape in front of her.
 
An explosion of cheers startled Twilight so badly that her levitation spell broke entirely, the water splashing into the grass. Her tricks had gathered a small crowd while she was concentrating, colts and fillies pressing close to see her magic. Blushing, the unicorn bowed to her audience as they stomped their delight.
 
“Do another one!” urged a younger colt. Twilight glanced around at the ring of eager faces nodding in agreement and returned an awkward smile. She glanced around her for something to work with, something nopony would mind if she messed up on. There wasn’t much besides the stormball clouds and the wet grass at her feet.
 
Wet grass…
 
The filly lowered her horn toward the ground, trying to recall everything she’d ever learned about plant growth. Had she the knowledge, runes and pre-made spell matrices would take away much of the effort of compensating and corresponding the effects of a spell. As it was, the more complex growth spell would demand greater concentration and mental processing than her earlier feat of temperature manipulation and levitation. The magic can provide energy for photosynthesis. Plenty of water in the soil. May need to enhance fluid uptake rate. The audience faded from her mind as she worked through the problem. Gas exchange might be a limiting factor. Light breeze today, that should be enough to prevent oxygen buildup.
 
Her horn blazing to life, she created a tenuous link with the grass blades and, slowly and steadily, fed her magical energy to the plants. Gently at first, she directed their use of the energy, nudging the plants to grow. The blades began to visibly lengthen. Her confidence strengthening, she sped up her transfer of energy and smiled as the speed of growth accelerated. The patch of grass stretched up toward the moon, topping two feet before it began to yellow from lack of water. Twilight cut the link and opened her eyes, panting faintly from the exertion.
 
Moondancer touched the grass with one hoof. “That… is so cool!” she laughed.
 
“Yeah, I thought watching grass grow was supposed to be boring!” Lemon Hearts giggled. “Where’d you learn to do that? The Empress?”
 
“Sort of,” Twilight said. “The Empress mostly teaches me the underlying principles of magic and encourages me to use that knowledge to discover new ways of applying myself.”
 
“So she hasn’t actually taught you any spells?” Twinkle raised a brow.
 
“I’ve been learning to use basic spells in a load of different ways. Some of them look like powerful spells, but they’re really just a complicated way of applying the basics. She’s been showing me some more difficult ones, too, but I don’t have them memorised yet.” Twilight shrugged.
 
After that, the audience gradually broke up as talk turned to Twilight’s time as the Empress’s apprentice. The three were impressed to learn Twilight slept right across from the Empress, and loved hearing more about palace life and living amongst the sophisticates and cultured officials of the Empire. However, much to Twilight’s chagrin, they bombarded her with endless questions about the more cosmetic and trivial aspects of Equestrian high society; the fashions, the jewellery, and (Twilight groaned inwardly whenever they asked) the colts and the young lords. They seemed disappointed when she couldn’t elaborate on the last subject. The talk of colts, however, reminded her of a question she had wanted to ask since she arrived.
 
“Hey girls, do you know where Orion is?”
 
Lemon Hearts rolled her eyes. “Can’t help but think about your coltfriend, huh, Twilight?”
 
The lavender unicorn blushed furiously. “That’s not what he is, Lemon! We’re just friends.”
 
“I think we know that’s not true,” the blue-haired unicorn grinned. “Look at her blush!”
 
Moondancer once again stepped in to save Twilight from Lemon Hearts’ teasing. “Knock it off, Lemon.” She poked her friend in the ribs and turned her attention to Twilight. “Miss Loch enrolled him in some kind of vocational training. He’s been gone for about two days, but I don’t know when he’ll be back.”
 
“Oh… well, when he comes back, please tell him I dropped by.”
 
Moondancer nodded, but then looked past Twilight and her expression hardened. Lemon Hearts’ ears folded back in anxiety, and Twinkle’s face took on an air of confused distaste, as if she’d stepped in an unexpected mud puddle. Twilight became aware of nervous, shuffling steps behind her and twisted around.
 
It was an older earth pony colt, one she knew all too well as one of Blitz’s cronies. Cobble, I think? Twilight narrowed her eyes, instantly defensive, but the look on his face was one she’d never seen before. The beige colt clearly wasn’t looking for someone to pick on – he had such a downcast expression, the filly couldn’t help a faint twinge of sympathy.
 
“What do you want?” Moondancer growled.
 
The colt hesitated in the face of the white filly’s hostility, but swallowed and trotted up to Twilight. “I… I just wanted to tell you…” He swallowed hard. “I’m sorry.”
 
Twilight furrowed her brow. “Really?”
 
“Y-yeah. I see now that I did real bad and I’m sorry for it.”
 
The lavender filly raised her brow. Sure, you’re sorry now that I’m somepony important, she thought cynically. Then a feline smile curled her lips. She had a perfect opportunity here, and it would be a pity to waste it. “Don’t apologise just to me. Say it to Moondancer, Lemon Hearts and Twinkle. I know you picked on them too.”
 
He looked at them. “I’m sorry. Please, I really am.”
 
Twilight stared in amazement for a moment, surprised that he accepted the humiliation so willingly. But then, the threat of her displeasure had sent Blueblood scurrying away, a little commoner girl commanding a Prince of Equestria! The servants and staff at the palace were all too eager to please the Empress’s protégée. When she thought of Cobble in those terms, it seemed only right that he acquiesce to her new authority.
 
“What’s goin’ on here, Cobble?”
 
The new voice was gravelly, or as gravelly as a colt’s voice could get. Pushing his way to the forefront of the group, a large, older pegasus with the coat colour of a lion and an unkempt, knotted amber mane narrowed his eyes at his former lackey. Blitz was big for his age, towering over even Cobble. Cruel confidence and irritation was plain to see on his face.
 
Cobble whirled around, wide-eyed. “Nothing! I was just–”
 
“He was just apologising to Twilight and everypony for being so mean,” Moondancer said snidely.
 
Blitz sneered. “Oh really? You’re friends with all the little foals now, ain’t you Cobble?”
 
“No!” the earth pony snapped by reflex. “Er, maybe?” he amended, his eyes darting from face to face, then back to Twilight. He swallowed and looked at Blitz. “I just think, y’know, it’d be good to kind of… stop picking on them? I mean, it gets kinda boring… an’ nopony likes it…”
 
“Or it’s because she’s got you scared,” the pegasus accused as he stabbed a hoof in Twilight’s direction. “I can’t believe you’re scared of a titchy little nerd. I thought you were cooler than that, but I guess you’re just another loser!”
 
Cobble opened his mouth to speak, but Blitz surged forward, pushing past him to loom over Twilight. The little filly held back an instinctive squeal of fear, but she couldn’t help leaning away from the imposing colt. He stood over her like a fiery monster, somehow seeming as big as Ladon was. And he’s not friendly once you get to know him, said a squeaky voice at the back of her mind.
 
“So what’re you doing back, nerd?” he growled. “I thought you went off to play princess at the palace.”
 
“I’m just visiting,” she replied, her voice getting quieter as she spoke. Images of Blitz’s past actions danced through her head.
 
“Throwing your weight around, huh? Well I ain’t gonna bow to you ‘cos you’re living at the palace and wearing a stupid dress.” He snorted, blowing a gust of hot air from his nostrils. “I’m not gonna come and beg for forgiveness like this wimp. You know why?”
 
In spite of herself, Twilight answered. “Why?”
 
He leaned in menacingly. Twilight’s mind reeled, her heart pumping. His many, many threats over the past year repeated in her mind. Why isn’t anypony doing anything? Where are the adults? She searched the field for them, but found that the only ones outside were refereeing the matches of hoofball and stormball that were raging on.
 
“It’s ‘cos I know that even though you’ve moved away and you’re living it up with servants and diamonds and fancy clothes at the palace, you ain’t changed,” he said. “You’re still the same scrawny cry-baby. The same no-friends nerd. The same little filly who’s too much of a stupid wimp to do anything.”
 
He ended his little speech with a smirk and moved in closer, almost chest to chest with her. He was surrounding her now, and Twilight sunk further towards the ground, actually cowering. She screwed her eyes shut. She wanted to curl up in a ball and cry until he had his fill and went away. It’s not true, she told herself. He can’t hurt me. But that thought was trapped behind doubt wrapped in a hard shell of fear. All his torments played through her mind; all the times she ran away in tears and said nothing to anyone. His sneer and his size filled her thoughts completely until she just wanted a way out. Please, please just go away! Somepony, help me!
 
And there appeared an image of Nightmare Moon, smiling down at her encouragingly, just like she did in their lessons. A brutish bully is terrorising your peers, and now he has you cornered, the Empress said inside her head. He’s been tormenting you for the past year and doesn’t seem afraid of anything. What do you do?
 
Her eyes snapped open. I give him something to fear.
 
The images of Blitz’s cruelty and threats fell silent in her mind. The panic washed away, leaving behind clear thought. Though Nightmare Moon was away at the palace, Twilight felt as she had been given the alicorn’s courage. She rose to her hooves, forcing the bigger colt back a step.
 
“I’m not stupid,” she said.
 
“What was that?”
 
Her eyes met those of the colt that had bullied her for the past twelve months. Blitz looked confused for a moment, then smirked.
 
“Oh look, now you’re putting on a brave face. You know what? I’m gonna–”
 
Twilight’s horn flared. Blitz’s hooves were swept out from under him. He fell to the ground with a thud. After he got over his daze, he looked up into Twilight’s narrowed eyes.
 
“You’re not going to do anything,” she said. Her voice was the same commanding, no-arguments tone that had sent Prince Blueblood the Tenth scurrying away. Only this time, it had an edge of righteous fury. “Do you know why?”
 
Blitz’s face cycled through a range of emotions; confusion, anger and shock. The unicorn swore she could even see a hint of fear in his eyes. “Why?” he asked.
 
“Because if you do, I can do one of two things,” Twilight said, her voice dropping as though to keep the threat private. “I could blast you over that tree over there, or I can send for my guard.”
 
“Guard?” his eyes widened.
 
“Yes, guard. Two of the Empress’s personal bodyguards, actually. You’ve forgotten I don’t just live at the Imperial Palace; I’m also the protégée of Empress Nightmare Moon herself. So all your threats are just hot air unless you want to follow through, and the Honour Guards won’t react very well to that.”
 
Blitz, shaking, climbed to his hooves and did his best to look cocky. “You won’t do that. You’re just bluffing.”
 
Without breaking eye contact with the bully, Twilight replied, “Moondancer, can you please go out front and ask the armoured ponies by the chariot to come here?”
 
Moondancer reacted as though she had just been freed from being encased in stone by a cockatrice. Jolting at the mention of her name, she nodded and began to walk away.
 
“Wait!” the pegasus colt called out. The word was more a squeak than anything.
 
Moondancer stopped and he turned back to Twilight, swallowing. “L-look, I didn’t really mean anything, okay? It was just some harmless joking around.”
 
“Jokes?” One colt, emboldened from the events unfolding in front of him, stepped forward. “You flushed my head down a toilet and dumped me in a trash can!”
 
“You stole Silver Song’s doll and tore its head off, and laughed when she cried!” another foal burst out.
 
Blitz looked more and more panicky by the minute. Twilight kept her expression flat and hard, but inwardly, she was staring in wonder. She hadn’t just made him fear her more than she feared him, she had given the others confidence. One by one, the crowd – now over a dozen ponies – came nearer him, angrily calling out his crimes. The amber-maned pegasus turned his wide, scared eyes back to Twilight as she spoke to him.
 
“It doesn’t sound like people found it funny, Blitz,” she said, stepping towards him. Her pastel yellow dress felt like a royal cloak. Nothing could stop her. Certainly not a petty bully who liked to threaten little fillies.
 
He shrank back. “O-okay, so they weren’t jokes.” He swallowed, his next words shaky and fearful. “I’m… sorry, all right? Just please, don’t get those guards!”
 
“What was that?” Moondancer asked, though no one in the crowd could have missed his words. “Speak up, we can’t hear you.”
 
Anger flickered across the colt’s face, but a glance toward Twilight brought back the nervous remorse. “I’m sorry for bullying you!” he squeaked.
 
“Say you’re sorry like you mean it,” Twilight ordered. “To everypony. Look them in the eye and apologise. Or I’ll get the guards and we’ll take you back to the palace dungeons.”
 
He gulped and did as she demanded. A terrified Blitz literally begged the foals for forgiveness. Making Blueblood back down was nothing compared to the rush of watching her long-time tormentor grovel. She breathed deeply and allowed herself a smile. Was this how the Empress felt when one of her enemies bent over backwards to accommodate her demands?
 
The pegasus returned, utterly humiliated and emasculated in front of so many of the ponies he had once scared into submission. He looked at her, worry written on his face, silently begging that this was enough. Time to drive it home, she decided.
 
“I don’t want to hear a word about you bullying anypony again, understand?” He nodded. “Because if I do, I will tell the Empress you hurt me and my friends, and she will send the guards down to drag you to the palace in chains.”
 
“I… I understand.” Blitz hung his head, thoroughly defeated.
 
“Good,” Twilight snorted as the colt retreated. Her heartbeat slowed and the high of victory gradually faded, leaving the purple unicorn feeling wobbly in the legs. Already, the crowd of foals was splintering away, returning to their own groups and games. Blitz slinked inside, doing his best to not attract any more attention. Twilight turned to Moondancer, Twinkle and Lemon Hearts and grinned sheepishly. “It’s, uh… it’s been nice to see you girls again.”
 
Twinkle and Lemon Hearts seemed to still be in shock, but Moondancer nodded and returned her grin.
 
“Yeah, it sure has, Twilight,” she said. “We’ll be sure to write to you at the palace.”
 
Twilight said her goodbyes and returned to the chariot, quite ready to return home. She sat in silence throughout the ride back to the palace, barely registering the city go by. The filly was going over the past few weeks in her head. She thought back to all the times she made a request, or an outright demand, and it was executed to the letter. Servants and even government officials went out of their way to please her, and she hadn’t seen a hair of Blueblood’s hide all week. Lemon Hearts was right on one thing. Adopted or not, she had the authority of a member of the royal family. She had the power of a princess.
 
And she liked it.
 


> Things Past
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chapter Nine:
Things Past









Motes of dust floated freely about the sitting room, puffed into the air by the slightest pressure on the seemingly-spotless cushions and highlighted by the light streaming in through tall, narrow stained glass windows. Towering, darkly-varnished bookcases lined the walls. The volumes they contained were so old that the paper had turned brown and coarse. Twilight sat in front of a low table, surrounded by venerable chairs that had likely not seen use in over a hundred years. Behind her was a particularly well-crafted divan, filled with fine pillows that seemed more works of art than places to park a backside. It was like many of the other appallingly underused parlour rooms in the palace: priceless.

Splayed on the table before Twilight was an ancient scrapbook. The tome was full of flamboyant, curly hornwriting that Twilight could barely decipher. Walls of text, notes and bullet-points were crammed in next to sketches, diagrams and maps. Much of the content – indeed, entire pages – had been bound into the tome, taken from other sources. A large black hoof pointed at one of the maps.

“The Coalition then cornered us above Redroot Canyon,” Nightmare Moon said. “We were heavily outnumbered – only four thousand soldiers to their twenty thousand – and every unit but my Honour Guard had suffered many casualties. We were all exhausted from the fighting, even I. With the dead drop into the canyon at our backs and the Coalition forces facing us, the situation seemed hopeless. The Imperial pegasi were about to fly away and leave us to our fate, until I… convinced them of their imprudence.” 

The little purple filly stared up at the alicorn with eager eyes. Though talk of battle and strife was more Orion’s thing, Twilight found herself captivated by the first-hoof account from the Empress. “Then what happened? How did you escape?”

“I may have lacked the energy to wipe out the enemy, but I had enough to make a rock bridge across the canyon. We managed to evacuate our non-flying troops to safety while the Honour Guard covered our retreat,” a brief, proud smile shone across her face. “Some fool of a Coalition general, probably some patrician that bought his commission, decided it would be wise to pursue us across my own bridge. I waited until it was full of their heavy infantry before collapsing it. Several hundred lighter units were on our side by then, but they surrendered almost immediately.”

“So you escaped and returned to Canterlot,” Twilight said, remembering her own discussions on Equestrian history with Orion. “And you returned with your entire army.”

Nightmare Moon nodded. “Yes. While we may have been outnumbered in theory, the capitulation of Unicornia in the previous conflict left them short of magic-using reinforcements. At the time, the south and the north were not very comsopolitan; the Earth Confederacy and the City-State of Pegasopolis were, demographically, almost entirely made up of their respective races.”

Twilight furrowed her brow. If memory served, that was not compatible with what she had learned into her foray in early Equestrian history. “I thought the earth ponies, pegasi and unicorns had all joined the Coalition of Equestria to live and work together. Why were they still so separate?”

“Though the nations had joined under an alliance, they were still independent peoples,” the Empress explained. “Their systems of government – military dictatorship, plutocratic oligarchy, and hereditary monarchy – were incompatible with each other. Each nation wanted to keep to their own goals, customs and laws, so while they cooperated at an administrative level, there was a lack of migration between them. Their disunity was what ultimately led to their downfall. Their armies were inflexible and vulnerable to my mixed forces without all the other members of the Coalition to assist them.”

“Plus, you being an ultra-powerful alicorn helped, right?” Twilight offered, smiling.

Nightmare Moon smiled back. “Right.”

After a moment of silence, Twilight looked away. A question had scratched at her brain ever since they began the subject, begging to be asked, but fear of offending the Empress held it back. Even as the question begged her to release it, the unicorn considered the best possible way to ask it.

“Your Majesty?” she squeaked tentatively, facing her mentor.

“Yes, Twilight?”

“Why do ponies fight?” she asked, immediately regretting it. That question was far too massive and unanswerable to burden the Empress with explaining it to a little filly. Twilight selected a different, easier question. “I mean, did you really have to invade Unicornia? It made the Coalition attack you and all those ponies died.”

As Twilight’s question hung in the air, Nightmare Moon’s face drooped into a slight wince. At first, Twilight braced herself for an angry admonishment from the Empress, but then she saw the alicorn hang her head just slightly. Nightmare wore a look of... regret? Shame? Twilight couldn't quite read all of its nuances, but it was humbling – and frightening – to see the ruler of all Equestria look so vulnerable.

“It was… necessary,” the black mare said finally, struggling to find the right words. “You have to understand, Twilight, Equestria as you know it didn’t exist beyond the Provinces of Everfree, Bluecob and half of what would be Manehattan. We were small and weak; Everfree had recently been rendered unsuitable for habitation, and the other two provinces brimmed with refugees. The Coalition looked at us like dragons at a two-ton diamond. Tensions were already at breaking point, and eventually…” Nightmare Moon sighed. “I admit that I was much less... patient then, but I did what I had to do to protect my little ponies. Even though we struck first, it was always a defensive war. Sometimes, a pony must fight in order to protect the things they love and believe in.”

Twilight nodded. That did make sense. Even if Equestria started the war, Twilight knew Nightmare Moon would have only done so if she was left with no other choice. She was a good pony; a little frightening at times, but good. Protecting loved ones was as noble a goal as one could have. 

The filly creased her brow, though, confused by part of the Empress’s explanation. “Your Majesty?” she said. “How was Everfree made… like it is, just after you founded the Empire? What happened there?”

The black alicorn pursed her lips, glancing upwards in thought. “Well… there was a certain… event. An accident whose effects were not unlike igniting a reservoir of liquid magic. The result was much devastation, and the creation of the dark forest we see tonight.”

“Really? There was nothing mentioning an accident that big in any of the history books I’ve read,” Twilight frowned, failing to notice the worry in the Empress’s eyes. “I think you should tell that to the publishers. We can’t have ponies going round thinking the wrong things!”

“No… no we can’t,” Nightmare Moon smiled stiffly.

Then, there was a knock at the door. A guard’s voice called, “Your Majesty! His Grace, Prince Blueblood, Duke of Canterlot requests to see you.”

"The Duke? I thought he was visiting Whitetail with his son...” Nightmare Moon said to herself, brow furrowing. She sighed and called out. “Very well, show him in."

The doors flashed with magic and opened; the white form of Blueblood the Ninth appeared with an uncharacteristically wide smile playing on his lips. Twilight couldn't help but think anything that made the Duke that happy was a bad thing. He stepped forward, saying nothing, and gave a small bob of a bow.

“Make this quick, Blueblood. I am in the middle of something here,” the Empress said.

The wide smile broke into a grin and gold light began to play around the unicorn stallion. Twilight winced at the display; the spectacular golden glow increased as it enveloped him completely, hurting her eyes like she was staring right at the Bright Moon. In a blaze of light, the shape of the pony before her changed. It grew tall and slender, shedding Duke Blueblood's powerful build, and the single horn on its head splintered into two, shifting to either side and sprouting a dozen branched points. 

When the light faded, Twilight could only stare with wide eyes at the person before her. It was a tall, sleek creature that she quickly recognised as a stag deer. His body was covered in shining white fur like the virgin snow on a crisp winter’s evening. The deer’s horns – no, antlers, she corrected herself – were perfectly smooth and symmetrical, spreading like an exotic crown above his head. There was something strangely fascinating about the creature. His alien body was lithe, well-muscled and seemingly flawless; his face strange and inequine, but somehow indefinably handsome. Sparkling eyes filled with liquid gold and a warm smile shifted to her, and it was all Twilight could do not to melt.

There was something strangely glamorous about the stag. Twilight felt a powerful, wild presence about him, but it was tempered by an air as supple and delicate as the caress of a warm breeze. The paradox seemed to wrap itself around her brain, fascinating her attention as her stomach filled with butterflies and a trembling sigh escaped her lips.

“Twilight.” At the sound of her teacher’s stern voice, the filly snapped out of her trance and turned to a Nightmare Moon who looked very cross indeed. She motioned for the door. “Leave us, please. This is a very important matter.”

The filly nodded numbly and made for the door, but a shivery thrill ran through her as she passed the deer. The air seemed thick around the tall white stag; it made her blush for reasons she could not pinpoint, and she almost stopped to beg the Empress to let her stay. One glance at Nightmare Moon's icy expression, though, propelled her the rest of the way to the door.

As she left the room and rounded the next corner, Twilight heard Nightmare Moon’s voice echo down the halls. “Guards, I am not to be disturbed under any circumstances. Understood?” 

Twilight sighed. The sudden, mysterious arrival of that fascinating stranger piqued her curiosity. A hundred questions hummed like honeybees inside her head. Who was he? Why was he there? And why did he make her feel so... fuzzy? The filly blushed as she remembered the stranger’s kind, handsome face smiling warmly at her. Now she could begin to understand why Moondancer and her friends were so interested in boys – if only they were more like the ivory stag!

Turning another corner, Twilight pushed open a door absent-mindedly, still deep in her thoughts. Why was Nightmare Moon so cross? Did the hart bring bad news? The unicorn couldn’t imagine such a fantastic creature being able to make somepony angry.

Twilight stopped abruptly as she realised that she had not been paying attention to where she was walking. The labyrinthine corridors and rooms of the palace were so very easy for a pony to lose themselves in, especially when her mind was elsewhere. Now she stood in a passageway completely unfamiliar to her. 

This was clearly one of the servants' passages, a plain stone corridor lit by glowing crystals instead of windows. There were miles of such tunnels throughout the castle, all practically identical, allowing the dirty and unpleasant parts of palace logistics to take place out of sight of the nobility.

Well done, Twilight, a voice in the back of her mind quipped. You get your head stuck in the clouds, and look where it gets you: utterly lost. Focus.


Frowning, the filly snorted and pushed onward. Lost as she was, going forward would be just a productive as trying to find her way back, so down the strange, narrow halls she went. Besides, further exploration of the ins and outs of the palace would be just the thing to shake the gorgeous– to shake that stag out of her head. As she wandered, trying to imagine what hidden wonders she might find, her ears perked up at the sound of a voice further down the corridor.

“So how ‘bout it?” a deep male voice asked, his accent clipped and gravelly. “Just a little lunch is all I’m asking.”

“Look, you’re sweet, but I’m not… I just…”

Twilight poked her head round the corner to discover an oddity even her imagination hadn't anticipated. A young earth pony mare in the uniform of a maid was scuffing a forehoof against the floor. Her face was contorted in a show of nervousness. 

“You just think I’m intimidating, don’t you?” the male sighed. “Go on, you can say it.”

The stallion himself was what made the tableau so strange. He was large and stocky, covered in grey-brown fur topped with a stark black mane, cut long but tied up in a ponytail. He was obviously a member of the Honor Guard; his batlike wings and dragon-slitted pupils were clear enough sign of that. And yet, he retained them out of uniform. The stallion wore no armor, his crossed-spears cutie mark clearly visible. Is he somehow keeping the illusion enchantment on? the filly wondered.

“Maybe just a little,” the maid said. “I mean, please don’t take it the wrong way, but you–”

The bat-winged pony shook his head. “It’s all right, I’m used to it. We weren't born to be pretty, just scary. Don‘t worry, I‘m not going to get violent just because you shot me down.”

“It’s not that,” the earth pony said a little too quickly, giving him an apologetic look. “It’s just that you’re an Honour Guard, and…” Then, her eyes locked with Twilight’s, and she stalled. Raising her brow, she called out to the filly. “Hello?”

As Twilight timidly stepped out from the shelter of the corner, the Honour Guard also turned his attention to her. With both these adults staring at her, fully aware of what could be called eavesdropping, the little unicorn blushed in embarrassment. “Hello,” she squeaked back. “My… I’m Twilight Sparkle.”

The stallion raised a quizzical eyebrow. “And what is the Empress’s student doing in the servants’ passages?”

“I’m, um… lost,” Twilight said. “I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going and I kind of just wandered into the wrong place.”

“Fair enough,” he chuckled. “I’ll take you back to the main foyer. I’m sure you know your way to wherever you want to go from there.” He turned to the maid. “I’ll see you around, Buttercup.”

“Yeah,” the mare said, her voice soft and whispery. “Look, I’m sorry–”

“I said it was all right,” the black-haired pony replied with a hint of bitterness, walking away. “Come this way, Miss Sparkle.”

Twilight followed the large pony as he weaved through the corridors with stoic confidence, leaving Buttercup behind. There were so many doors and turns and intersecting halls, the little unicorn was always amazed that anypony knew their way around. She fought the inquisitive urge to speed around, opening random doors just to see where they led. Twilight imagined that some of them simply opened up to more corridors that eventually circled in on themselves. 

Sidling up to the stallion, she couldn’t help but glance at his wings. They were so strange, even though all Honour Guards had them. They were supposed to be a case of simple transmogrification! But these… she lifted a hoof, about to touch the leathery wing, but quickly set it down. I don’t think he’d like that too much, Twilight decided.

She studied the rest of him. He was quite a bit larger than the average stallion, definitely larger than most other guard ponies, and he had a blocky quality about him; a jutting, angular jaw, broad, squared-off shoulders, and flat, slab-sided barrel. It was like somepony had taken a lump of pure muscle and roughly chiselled out the shape of a stallion before sticking a pair of bat wings on him. His draconic yellow eyes betrayed little emotion, just like the rest of the Honour Guard that so loyally kept watch over her and the Empress.

“You can ask, you know,” he said in his gravelly voice, his eyes still fixed ahead. “I don’t mind you asking, if you’re curious.”

“About your wings?” Twilight asked. He nodded. The filly considered this for a moment before shaking her head. “I’d rather know your name first, if you don’t mind.”

“Proud Song,” he said simply, betraying only a flicker of a smile.

“And… why do you have those bat wings? I mean, the other Honour Guards have them, but they go away when they take their armour off.”

Proud Song flexed his wings, giving another slow nod. “You're correct, this is no enchantment. I was born this way.”

Twilight digested this for a few seconds as they turned down yet another utterly identical corridor. “So you’re a different sort of pony altogether, like unicorns, earth ponies and pegasi?”

“Precisely, although it was from the pegasi that my race, the thestrals, was created,” the stallion said.

Twilight bridled at that comment. “Wait… created from pegasi? What do you mean by that?” 

Proud Song shrugged. “Created. Shaped. Sculpted. We were chosen by our Father, the Lord of the Light, and given these wings and these eyes as his brand.”

Twilight was now thoroughly confused. What on earth is he talking about? she wondered. Surely not a god. There’s no such thing. Gods were fairy-tale beings that only existed in foreign myths. They supposedly had the power to create, destroy, and shape the world as they saw fit, creating their own morality and order for their chosen peoples. Alicorns had discovered and preached Enlightenment and Harmony, yes, but they were real ponies. They certainly weren't gods.

“So who is this ‘Lord of the Light’, then?” Twilight probed, her academic interest once more awakened. “Some kind of deity?”

The thestral stopped for a moment, head inclined to the side in thought. He turned to her, looking her in the eye for the first time. And for the first time, Twilight felt intimidated by him. She had been wrong about his eyes. They weren't exotically beautiful dragon's eyes like Nightmare Moon's. His were savage and bestial, more cat than dragon. Song’s eyes were a predator’s eyes.

“The simplest answer is the best one, no?” He smiled, but only just. “The Father was an alicorn, many thousands of years ago. He surpassed all others in power and ability. We call him the Great Shaper; he made many races, taking the forms of different peoples and moulding them. Tarpans, thestals, and minotaurs were among the scores he created.” Proud Song paused and began leading Twilight through the palace halls once again. “But I am no priest. I only understand the basics.”

Why worship one alicorn above thousands of others? the filly wondered. Other than Arche and his disciples, anyway. Still, she certainly had never heard of an alicorn actually making new creatures. Was even Nightmare Moon that powerful? “So what happened to him?” she asked. “I mean, he’s not around anymore, so did he ascend with the rest of the alicorns or something?”

The bat-winged pegasus frowned. “No. He was betrayed.” This only elicited a confused look from Twilight, so he sighed and began to elaborate. “The Lord of the Light was a great being; clever and powerful and wise. While many respected him for these traits, others feared him. They were fearful of his power and his vision for the world. No other alicorn had even dared to attempt what he achieved, so they waged a war against him. The fighting was long and bitter, and all our Father’s children flocked to join him – as well as many alicorns – but the other side eventually prevailed and cast out the Lord. Even for all his might, he was not all-powerful, so he was overwhelmed by sheer number and imprisoned in the moon.”

Twilight tilted her head. “But why would the alicorns do something like that? Why wouldn’t they appreciate him for his talents? I thought alicorns were wise and good.”

“The nights of Arche and his disciples were long gone by then, Miss Sparkle. The Lord was a rare individual; he had wisdom like that of Arche and a vision of the perfect world for all his subjects. Alicorns are just like you or I, although they may have a different… perspective at times because of their age and power.” The stallion smiled slightly. “But one night the Lord will return and bring Light to the darkness, and he will heal this broken world.”

Their discussion soon lapsed into silence as they trotted onwards through the palace. Finally, they emerged through a door into a bright, moonlit hallway in a more public part of the Imperial Palace. Rather than coming across only one or two ponies, Twilight now saw dozens along the way; all sweeping through the halls with little concern for the goings-on around them. Of course, they had important business to attend to, but Twilight wondered why they didn’t take the time to stop and just look at the world around them. Didn’t they find anything interesting besides their destinations? The palace still amazed her; there was so much to learn in its gilded halls!

Even though she recognised this part of the palace, Twilight didn't say so; she wanted to hear more of what Proud Song had to say. “Why do the Honour Guards look like bat-po… thestrals, Mister Song?” she asked.

“Originally, the Honour Guard was made up only of thestrals,” the stallion said. “Her Majesty gave us a home and a purpose when we had none, and we became Nightmare Moon's personal warriors. Now even non-thestral ponies of the Honour Guard assume our likeness for the sake of tradition. In time, our numbers thinned and many migrated away into other lives, but there are still a few thestral who remember our old loyalties.”

Twilight looked up at the bat-winged pony with wide, reverent eyes. “So you're part of a long line of ponies who've served Nightmare Moon since before the Empire?”

Proud Song – much to Twilight’s silent surprise – allowed a small chuckle to escape his lips. “No, actually. My father worked on a private airship. I was just young and headstrong, looking for my purpose in life. Anyway, after reading up on my people’s history, I had the bright idea to come to Canterlot. I signed up for the royal guards and before I knew it, I was promoted to the Honour Guards. I earned my captaincy through the sweat of my brow and back-breaking effort. The first of my kind in the Honour Guard for over a century.”

“I’ve never seen any thestrals before,” the lavender unicorn said. “Where’d you come from?”

“There’s hardly any of us in Equestria anymore, and nowanights we all live in Covenburg.” The town’s name was lost on Twilight, and it didn’t take long for Song to realise that. “It’s like Cloudsdale, but with thestrals.”

“Oh… yeah, that makes sense,” Twilight nodded.

At last, they reached the entrance foyer. As usual, it was bustling with ponies, some simply using it as a thoroughfare, others eating at the tables and many more mingling and talking in groups. Proud Song drew himself up, puffed his chest out and put on a stern face. As the pair walked, ponies only needed to take one good look at the fearsome thestrals before parting like a herd scattering before a lion.

“Twilight Sparkle!”

The filly and her companion looked to the source of the voice. Swooping towards her like an owl on a field mouse was a distinctive fuchsia unicorn wearing a gown of silvery-white silk and indigo trims. Twilight had spent little time with Hierophant North Star, though the mare had always been very polite and kind toward her. It was uncomfortably easy to switch on the more zealous side of her personality, and sometimes the strangest things would rile her to a fury. Say, for example, walking with the wrong pony.

Gliding at her heels like a shadow, the black-clad form of the Inquisitor detatched itself from the multitude. He cut such a stark contrast to the colourful throng that idled about the hall, yet he had the uncanny ability to appear unexpectedly – almost as if by magic – out of a crowd.

“What’s the matter, Miss North Star?” Twilight asked.

“Forgive me, little mistress, but it would be best if I chaperone you from here,” she turned to Proud Song. “You, heathen, will leave.”

The bat-winged stallion glowered at the Hierophant, leaning forward aggressively. North Star responded with her own death-glare. But before anything happened, Song flicked his eyes to the Inquisitor, who simply shook his head. The thestral gave an angry snort and pulled away from the priestly unicorn, turning his back on her.

“Take care, Miss Sparkle,” he said.

And then he was gone, disappearing into the rainbow sea of ponies. As Twilight moved her gaze back to the two adults, she was met with worry on the fuchsia unicorn’s face.

“What’s wrong?” she asked sweetly.

The mare’s face hardened with concern. “Do you know who you were with just then?”

“Yes, the captain of the Honour Guard, Proud Song,” Twilight said. “Why?”

“Did he… tell you anything?”

What’s got her so jittery? “We talked a little on the way here... why?”

“The Hierophant is trying to ask if Proud Song told you about his religion,” the Inquisitor interjected flippantly, stepping forward. “Did he tell you about what he calls the Lord of the Light?”

“Oh, that! Proud Song said that he was an alicorn that was really wise and powerful and created a whole lot of creatures. He said the alicorn was betrayed by the rest of his race because they were jealous and feared him.”

North Star gasped, flinching as if she had heard the most scandalous piece of news. She whirled on the Inquisitor. “See?” she cried in a shrill tone. “This is what happens when we let those Stormspawn–” the word was little more than a growl spat through clenched teeth “–into our lives. As soon as they have our children alone, they corrupt them with their lies and devil-worship!”

Letting out an exasperated sigh, the Inquisitor rolled his eyes. “Save your sermons for the faithful, Hierophant. I’m sure they’d love to hear exactly how the lack of orthodoxy and blind faith are making our society ripe for destruction.”

Ignoring him, the mare faced Twilight, a wide, obviously forced smile spread across her face. “Lady Sparkle, you mustn’t let that stallion fill your head with that kind of rubbish.”

“Let the Hierophant fill your head with her kind of rubbish instead,” the Inquisitor quipped, grinning. The Hierophant glared silently at him. 

“What’s the matter?” Twilight asked. The mare’s behaviour, while not entirely atypical of her, seemed so much more hateful than usual. How could somepony as helpful and nice as Proud Song make her so angry? And so what if he told me about his religion? she thought. I'd like to learn more about that sort of stuff! “Why are you so hostile to Proud Song? He’s done nothing wrong.”

“Nothing wrong?” North Star snapped her eyes back to Twilight. “He’s trying to paint his demon-god in a rose-tinted light.”

“He didn't sound so bad. He was wise and he wanted to change the world, but the other alicorns betrayed him.”

“Actually, Twilight,” the Inquisitor said. “It was the other way around. Maelstrom-Cheimon attacked the other alicorns first.” 

“Maelstrom-Cheimon?” Twilight tasted the name. It sounded cumbersome; foreign. No wonder Proud Song stuck with words like ‘Father’. “Wait, do you mean Maelstrom the Mad, from All Hallows' Eve?”

North Star nodded. “The very same, Twilight. He was a demonic tyrant that tried to destroy the world millennia ago. He captured innocent ponies and cruelly twisted their bodies and their minds to serve his nefarious purposes. This ‘Lord of the Light’ nonsense is nothing but dogmatic propaganda used by his spawn to convince others to worship him. He was nothing more than an insane, evil demon that wished destruction or enslavement for all.”

The Inquisitor grew uncharacteristically serious at this, nodding in sober agreement with North Star. “Regardless of what anypony tells you, Sparks, Cheimon was a dangerous and powerful pony. His worship is the source of much strife all over Midderland, and I’d advise you don’t get involved with any religious system that deifies a mad conqueror like Cheimon,” the Inquisitor warned. “It can get you into quite a bit of trouble.”

The little unicorn filly was dumbfounded at what she was hearing. This didn’t sound at all like the wise, visionary Arche-figure Proud Song was telling her about. “But… but why would Proud Song lie? He seemed so nice.”
 
The Hierophant opened her mouth, readying another tirade, but the grey stallion cut her off. “It’s important to remember that Proud Song didn’t lie. He fervently believes that Maelstrom was a kind, wise ruler who wanted peace and happiness. That’s what religion is; faith in something greater. The captain just happens to place his faith in something that is, shall we say, tainted by falsehoods.” He flashed a grin. “Not unlike Lady North Star here.”

"The Cult Imperia is based on no dark falsehoods, Inquisitor! Do not compare us to Stormspawn, even in jest!” 

“No dark falsehoods, maybe, but falsehoods all the same,” he smirked.

“How dare you! I demand an apolo…”

The clergymare’s voice was drowned in the hum of chatter as Twilight slipped away from the two ponies into the crowd. She preferred to not get caught up in whatever strange banter they had in store for each other. Adults were odd, petty creatures indeed. 

Meandering between the legs of courtiers, servants and bureaucrats, the purple filly made her way for the closest exit from the foyer. At last, she burst free of the near-stifling mass of officials and began to trot down the halls. Since her lesson with Nightmare Moon had been interrupted, she pondered what to do with the rest of the night. Research more on light magic? Or perhaps she could test the waters of mind magic? Twilight cast her thoughts back to events earlier in the night. Now that she thought about it, these thestrals seemed particularly fascinating. Perhaps she could also read up on some of the other races that Cheimon created? That’s it! she decided. Grinning with anticipation, she bolted round a bend in the hallway, eagerly racing down the shortest path to the library.

And smacked into another filly.

With a synchronised “oof!”, they both fell flat on their rumps. Twilight sat up, rubbing her muzzle and blinking. The filly in front of her – also shaking herself out of a daze – was covered in light-blue fur crowned with a swishy, soft yellow mane. Her dress had the colouration of a thistle, and so many ruffles that Twilight wondered if the designer was aiming for the shape of one, too. It was as if somepony had taken all the frilly, silky and lacy bits of clothing they could find and stitched them together. Pearls seemed to play a key part of her outfit; Twilight was sure a dress didn't need that many pearl buttons, and she wore a necklace and earrings made from the shiny little orbs of cream. 

She scowled at Twilight, scrunching her face up in a pout that outdid a toddler. “Watch where you’re going, maid!”

The addition of the sharp, slightly screechy voice finally placed the filly in Twilight's memory, recalling the noble fillies that shunned her and threw their weight around, acting as if they were better than her because of their parentage. This little unicorn filly was the ringleader; of that she was sure. They always followed her lead, acting as she did and subscribing to whatever ridiculous fashions caught her fancy.

“I’m not a maid,” Twilight said, pressing her lips together.

The blue filly stood up, peering at her as if only just now bothering to identify Twilight. “Oh, that’s right. You’re that new commoner who’s been sucking up to the Empress. You’re the so-called ‘special one’.”

Twilight growled. “I earned my place here!”

“But do you deserve it?” It was a strange question, but the aristocratic filly seemed to believe it was entirely obvious. “You're nothing special. No pedigree and no title. You’re a commoner and you have no place in the palace.”

Twilight scowled. She already had her fill of this attitude from Prince Blueblood and the other younger members of the nobility. They couldn’t see past who your sire or dam were; if you were ‘better bred’ you were better, full stop. It made the purple unicorn’s blood boil.

“I should be going now,” the haughty little noble said, picking up her pearl tiara that had fallen onto the floor. “Not that I can expect an apology from you. You're only a peasant orphan, after all.”

That’s it! I’ve had enough of this! Blueblood and Blitz had both thought they could get away with bullying her. They thought they were better than her, but she proved them wrong in the end. And she’d prove this pompous foal wrong as well! Twilight wrapped the tiara in her magic and snatched it from the yellow-haired unicorn.

“Hey!” she cried. “What do you think you’re doing?!”

Twilight shot her a hateful look so intense that the filly actually took a step back, eyes widening. Rather than answer the noble, she focused on the tiara. Channelling more and more of her strength into the shimmering aura surrounding the headdress, Twilight squeezed. The pressure was too much for the flimsy metal, and it quickly gave way, but Twilight kept on squeezing. Eventually, there was nothing left but a ball of pearl and twisted silver. She unceremoniously dropped it at the noble filly’s hooves.

“Let this be a lesson to you to treat others with respect,” Twilight said. Her voice was venemous and calm, yet it made it clear to the filly that there was to be no argument. 

“Wh-why did you do that?” the blue unicorn asked, the corner of her eyes collecting with moisture.

“You keep on acting like you’re special just because of who your parents are,” Twilight began, eyes alight with righteous vengeance. She was going to enjoy this. “In reality, you’re not special at all. You just surround yourself with pretty things and lots of friends who are just as shallow as you are. You like to pretend a family name makes you better than me, but I'm the one who's special. I'm the one who's here because of what I can do, not what my name is!”

Now the tears were flowing freely from the filly’s eyes. Her lip quivered and she sniffled. Twilight felt a twinge of guilt in the pit of her stomach. Maybe that was too much?


No, a voice in the back of her mind said. It came with a sudden surge of authority that warmed her body. It felt good. I put up with this for so long. I've earned this! She's no different from Blueblood or Blitz, and it's my right to teach this little idiot a lesson for the way she's treated me!


“I… I’m telling on you,” the filly sniffed. “I’m going to get Daddy and you’re going to be in so much trouble!”

Twilight’s heart jolted. No. No, I can’t let her tell! She'll make me sound like some kind of bully to Nightmare Moon! Instinctively, she took a step forward. The filly widened her eyes and shuffled back in fright.

“No,” Twilight said, mustering as much command and authority to her words as she could. “No, you will not. If you do, I will tell them that you’re lying and you were just trying to get me in trouble. They’re going to believe me, the Empress’s personal student, over some jealous, spoilt filly like you. And when they do, they’ll throw you in the dungeons.”

The filly gritted her teeth, face twisting as she strained to think; weighing up her options. At last she hung her head in defeat. “I won’t tell,” she murmured. “Just please don’t send me to the dungeons.”

“I won’t,” the purple unicorn said. “As long as you hold your tongue.” With that, she brushed past the dejected filly and carried on her way back to the royal apartments. Twilight couldn’t help but wonder again if maybe, perhaps just maybe, she had gone too far.

Don’t worry about it, the voice of rationalisation said. She got what she deserved and she’ll learn her lesson. I did her a favor, in a way. Who cares about her crocodile tears? She's probably got a dozen more tiaras at home. Now, I've got some research to do.


============

Of all the parlour rooms in all the palaces, he had to walk into mine. Nightmare Moon glowered at the ivory-white stag standing in front of her, who responded with a simple grin. The two never broke eye contact; the alicorn staring with as much cool authority as she could muster, the deer staring back with a playful, brash look she knew all too well.

“Hello, Lulu,” he said, his lilting voice soothing and pleasant to the ears. “It’s been a long time.”

“What are you doing here, Cernunnos?” growled Nightmare Moon.

“Oh? No ‘hello’ or ‘how have you been’ or ‘I’ve missed you too, Snow’? Just straight to the point?” the deer harrumphed. “I came an awful long way, Lulu, the least you could do is be hospitable. I remember your father was very keen on being a good host, and your sister–”

“Don’t!” she snapped and prodded his chest hard. “Do not talk about my family. And don’t call me ‘Lulu’. I’m not a little filly anymore.”

“No, you certainly are not,” the White Hart grinned playfully. “Though you didn’t seem to mind me calling you that when we–”

“I'm not that filly anymore, either!”

The infuriating Immortal just chuckled and swept past the alicorn, hopping up onto the ancient, pristine divan. Before she could protest, Cernunnos had draped himself lazily across the seat, knocking a couple of the old, priceless cushions to the floor. Light spilling from a stained-glass window painted him in patches of brilliant colour. He smiled ever so casually at her, his teeth shining with perfection.

And that was the thing Nightmare Moon found so annoying about the White Hart – about deer in general. They provoked wonder and weaved enchantment just by being. They were a fantasy made flesh. Many a young mare avidly devoured romance novels about maidens being spirited away by one of the Fair Folk.

And all this natural Cervid glamour was only intensified in Cernunnos. The alien beauty of the deer-folk was a mere echo of his features. He had a literal aura about him; whether magical or natural, Nightmare was not sure – if there even was a difference for the Immortal. All she knew is that it made even alicorns hot under the saddle, and everything he did, he did with an ethereal grace and beauty that would never come so naturally to anyone else.

She couldn’t help but appreciate the way his lithe body held what must have been the perfect ratio of muscle, and how his coat shone like the ancient sun, without a single blemish. His face, so warm and welcoming, could make any mare’s heart melt if they weren’t prepared. The black alicorn found her eyes wandering along his back and to his–

Dammit, stop staring! No getting distracted this time. Nightmare Moon composed her expression to one of bland indifference toward the tall, elegant, handsome–

“You’re biting your lip,” Cernunnos chuckled.

She huffed. “Quiet, White Hart. Now, get off that thing and tell me what your sudden arrival is all about.”

The stag shrugged. “As you wish... Lulu,” he teased, hopping down from the seat in one fluid leap and walking towards her. His steps were so smooth it was as if he glided across the floor. “This is just a social visit. There’s no pressing matter to discuss, nothing I want from you. I just wanted to catch up on old times.”

It was the Empress’s turn to smile. “Ah, so that’s it. You miss me.”

Cernunnos laughed – a sound like the light ringing of celebratory bells. “Of course I miss you, Lulu! We used to be the closest of friends, you and I. Two hundred years is a long time for us to not see a hair of one another.”

“‘Friends’ is pushing it, Cernunnos,” Nightmare Moon said. “More like ‘associates’.”

“Oh, we certainly did our share of ‘associating’.” He winked and laughed again, brushing the crude comment away as if he had just made an observation about the weather. “The Anniversary is coming up soon.”

“It’s in ten years, White Hart.”

The deer tsked and shook his head. “You’ve become too accustomed to these mortals’ sense of time. Ten years is nothing to us; it’s a mere hoofprint along an endless road. A cup of water added to the ocean, a single thread in the tapestry of eternity–”

“A single fling in your little black book,” Nightmare Moon added with a smirk. “Stop trying to be poetic, Snow. It might work on all the little mortal princesses, but I know you far too well for that.”

“A thousand years is a long time, though, isn’t it?” 

She fought back a grimace as a burning mix of remorse, fear, and anger surged against the door in the back of her mind. Her brow furrowed, though, as she shook the thought away, pushing the emotions back down into her subconscious. “I try not to think about it,” she replied with a small, noncommittal shrug. “So drop it.”

“As you wish,” he said, melodramatically dropping a picture-perfect bow. 

Why does he have to do that so blasted gracefully? The alicorn reached out with her magic and grabbed a couple of large, plump cushions from the corner of the room. If he is going to stay, then I might as well get comfortable. She brought the pillows over to where they were standing and dropped them down next to herself and her guest, then sunk down onto the plush silk, sighing appreciatively at the opportunity to give her hooves a rest.

Cernunnos took several seconds to adjust his cushion just so before he reclined on it as well. Nightmare Moon was painfully aware that he had moved several inches closer to her in the process. “Please don’t,” she sighed. “I am in no mood for your games.”

The deer clicked his teeth. “You’re never in any kind of mood nowadays. I would have thought at least your adorable little student would have cheered you up.”

“She did cheer me up,” the alicorn said defensively. “I was in a good mood until you arrived. You should have notified me beforehoof.”

“Oh, but then we would have had to go through all the formalities, and our little talk wouldn’t have been so casual and private.” He waved a nonchalant hoof. “But anyway, since when did you become a teacher? You’ve never struck me as the type to take students.”

“Little Twilight Sparkle is… special,” said Nightmare Moon. Pride edged her words as she spoke. “She’s very powerful; only eight years old and she let off a Flare that was felt throughout the city. She has more strength than I’ve ever seen in a mortal unicorn.”

“Really?” the stag leaned forward, ears perking up with genuine interest.

The Empress smiled a little more proudly. “And she is incredibly intelligent, and as dedicated to her studies as Cel… as she was when you trained us. Perhaps moreso.”

“For some reason, I doubt that can be possible,” the White Hart gave another one of his chiming laughs that made Nightmare’s skin tingle. “I had never seen such dedication.”

Discussion of the past brought back the churning froth of emotions that Nightmare Moon hated so much. Frowning for a split second, she pushed them down with as much gusto as she could muster, determined to lock them away for the duration of her conversation. “She did have powerful motivations,” Nightmare whispered, then shrugged away the memories, firmly changing the subject. “I am quite confident in Twilight’s ability and growth. Taking her under my wing is the best choice I’ve made in centuries.”

“Sounds like she’ll make an excellent lieutenant.”

The Empress's smile returned, small but fond. “Well, it’s not just about her potential anymore. I find I rather like having a foal living with me. She is enjoying it too; you should see how excited she gets about everything. Not just the learning – Twilight loves the palace and the ponies around her. I suppose that’s because she has lived in an orphanage all her life.” Nightmare Moon’s smile grew slightly. “And you should see her when we are together. Her face just lights up if I so much as smile at her.”

Cernunnos chuckled and returned her grin, nodding. “Ah, yes. I know the look you mean. As it is, I get my fill of fawns and then some, but if I were in your situation, Ancestors know I might adopt a few myself."

“My situation?!” Nightmare Moon scowled at him. “I thought you knew better than to bring that up.”
 
The hart lowered his head and composed his face into an expression sufficiently pathetic that Nightmare could almost believe it was wholly sincere. “I’m sorry, Lulu. I didn’t realize it was still such a sore point after so many centuries.”

The Empress snorted. “Besides, I have only assumed guardianship over Twilight, not adopted her.”

A hoof knocked several times on the large doors of the throne room, but they swung open without waiting for a reply. Only one pony could be so bold; standing in the doorway was the black-clad form of the Inquisitor. His near-constant smirk was on his face as he walked into the room, but that vanished as he caught sight of Cernunnos. The ashen unicorn’s eyes widened for just a moment before narrowing along with the white deer’s own. A heavy silence filled the room as the two scrutinised each other. At last, the silence was broken.

“Please excuse my intrusion, Empress. I did not realise we were entertaining foreign dignitaries,” the Inquisitor said.

“I dropped by on a surprise visit,” the White Hart replied, maintaining his gaze. “Your Empress and I are old friends.”

“Really?” the Inquisitor smirked. “You must be the Great Prince of Cervidia, Cernunnos the Grass-Crowned.”

The stag cocked his head. “No one has called me that in a long time indeed. You have me at a disadvantage; I don’t know who you are.”

“I am the Lord Inquisitor of Her Majesty’s Overwatch.” The ashen stallion pushed past the deer’s words with his typical nonchalance.

Cernunnos peered at him curiously. “You know, you seem a little familiar. Have I seen you in Cervidia before?”

“I am sure you have,” the Inquisitor said. “Like my predecessors, I’ve been all around the world on state visits. I will never forget the first time I saw the great world-tree of Irminsul.”

“Yes,” Cernunnos smiled. “The city is really quite unique. I am glad you had the opportunity to visit it.”

“As am I.” The Inquisitor’s smiled twitched at the corner of his mouth. He turned to the night-black alicorn and bowed. “Again, my apologies. I shall leave you to your business, Your Majesty.”

Taking a bow, the stallion spun around and walked out of the throne room. The doors glowed black and closed behind him, leaving the Empress and the Prince once again alone.

“Your subordinates are interesting, from what I’ve seen, but so conniving. It’s a wonder you’ve managed to keep up with them, Lulu.”

Nightmare Moon gave him an arch look. “From what you’ve seen? Have you been spying on my government, Snow? And what exactly do you mean, ‘it’s a wonder’? I’m three thousand years younger than you!”

Cernunnos just snickered in response. The Empress pressed her lips tightly together, scowling at him. She was sure there was no joke to be had, and the Prince was only laughing to get on her nerves. Three millennia older, but as immature as a teenager, she thought. After the gentle laughter died down, the deer grinned at her.

“You may be younger than me, but you’ve become awfully stern in the past thousand years,” he cooed. “You need to rid yourself of all that stress.”

“I’m not stressed,” Nightmare Moon said defensively. “I’m focussed, which is more than I can say for you. Tell me truthfully now, are you spying on me?”

Shrugging, the Prince pursed his lips. “Define ‘spying’.”

“I knew it,” the starry-maned alicorn narrowed her eyes. “I thought we had an understanding, White Hart.”

“But we do, Lulu. I’m just very curious to know what you and your little ‘Empire’ are up to nowadays. Besides,” he said, brandishing another playful smirk, “who wouldn’t want to spy on you?”

Nightmare Moon snorted, temper rising. She could feel her cheeks growing hotter, and his face seemed to draw her eyes whenever she looked toward him. Damn his magic, she thought. She hated the feeling of being manipulated, of having her very emotions twisted in his favour. She couldn’t even blame him; he didn’t have to do it deliberately. He just had to be. Determined not to let him get to her, the mare stared at a single spot on the marble floor.

“If you’ve just come here to flirt with me, then you’ve come at the wrong time,” she said.”

“When is the right time, then?”

“Never,” Nightmare snapped back. “You’re so predictable, Snow. Tell me, did you just come here to make me your latest ‘vanity project’ – again – or do you actually want to have a conversation that doesn’t include you trying to bed somepony for once?”

Giving a hurt look, the stag frowned. “Don’t be like that, Lulu. You know I never thought of you like that. Why can’t you accept that maybe I just want to have things the way they were back then? Our relationship made you so happy.”

The Empress frowned and redoubled her focus on the marble tiles. “Call it what it was, Cernunnos: a tryst. For the dozenth time, stop trying to ‘rekindle’ what ended an age ago.”

Her words seemed to fall on deaf ears. Cernunnos just gave her a smouldering look, complete with sparkling eyes that would make anyone melt. The air was now steeped in tangible magic and a strange, enticing musk, smelling of masculinity and the wilderness. Nightmare Moon steeled herself against this onslaught. The White Hart could be very convincing when he wanted to. His very presence made mares swoon and stallions seethe with jealousy or creep away in self-conscious humiliation. The dragon-eyed alicorn was determined not to let the stag sway her this time.

“Oh Lulu, please don’t say that,” he smiled sweetly. Nightmare Moon shivered. “I know it’s been so very long since you’ve had any kind of intimacy. Someone to love; someone to hold. Twelve hundred years is quite a dry spell. Is it really necessary? Is that what you really want?”

His words were honey. They sweetened her ears and sent involuntary shivers down her spine. The Empress found the urge to shut him up dying against his overpowering, wonderful presence. His eyes, so welcoming and perfect, soothed her. She found herself, through no conscious effort, nodding at his words. They rang with truth. Why should I be alone anymore? A thousand years is too long for anyone to be without someone to love.

She cast her thoughts back to the time of his tutelage. Cernunnos had been so caring, so passionate back then. She had been young, and her life had been full of joy and pleasure in spite of their urgent quest to defeat Discord. Why not recapture some of that? Didn’t she deserve some companionship after a hundred decades of loneliness? Nightmare Moon realised he had shuffled closer to her, but that didn’t concern her one bit. 

“You know how much I care about you,” Cernunnos whispered, his smile softened so soothingly as her gaze became glassy and half-lidded. “You’ll never be just a tryst to me. You’re so much more than that. It physically hurts me to see you struggle alone here, surrounded by scheming underlings and ponies who feign love for you. All that stress and pressure, and you can’t even have the comfort of a loving pair of arms to retreat to each night.” He leaned in to her, his expression so warm and caring. “Lulu, you don’t have to be alone anymore.”

At the back of her mind, Nightmare Moon knew she should block out his speech and send him away. But between the magic and musk hanging thickly in the air, the gentle, handsome face of the stag and the lilting balm of his voice, the alicorn mare let her resistance slip away. She didn’t even protest when she felt Cernunnos nuzzle her cheek. She just closed her eyes and welcomed the feeling of being loved and touched.

Maybe… with the stag at her side, she could go ahead and adopt Twilight. She could have the one thing she hadn’t let herself dream of since that terrible day ten centuries past.

A family of her own.

“I can give you everything you’ve ever needed. You don’t have to face this world alone anymore,” the deer murmured. “Just forget about all that; all your worries and stress. You only need to focus on the here and now. Winter Storm is gone, but I’ll always be here.”

Winter Storm. The name echoed around Nightmare Moon’s skull, bringing back a fierce, powerful set of memories. Days and nights of happiness and genuine love; dreams of contentment. The brand of comfort that Cernunnos offered paled in comparison to what she’d felt back then. The clear, bold emotions cut through the magical aura that permeated the air like a beam of light through a pitch-black tunnel.

The mare’s eyes snapped open. No longer was her mind a soothed, harmonious ocean. Emotions now bubbled into a maelstrom and anger erupted from the centre of the whirlpool. Fury crashed down on her. Outrage for what she almost did, what he tried to do to her. This wasn’t just his casual glamour, but a concentrated, deliberate attempt to manipulate her! Embarrassment for her own weakness went to ashes almost as soon as she felt it, further feeding the flames. He was touching her, his muzzle on her neck! She pushed herself away and lashed out.

Nightmare Moon’s hoof cracked like thunder across the stag’s face. Cernunnos fell sprawling across the floor.

Her wings spread like the black cloak of nightfall, the Empress of Equestria snarled at the stunned stag. “How dare you!” she boomed, her voice augmented by magic and a righteous fury. A window shattered under the intensity of her words; books were knocked from their shelves.

The White Hart blinked, dazed by her fearsome blow. A red welt tarnished his otherwise immaculate cheek. Wide-eyed, he stared up at her. “Lulu, I’m so sor–”

“Don’t!” she shouted. “Don’t call me that! I am not a little child anymore, simpering if you so much as wink! I am Nightmare Moon! I am the Empress of All Equestria and Queen of the Night, and you dare to use your disgusting, perverse magic on me?” 

The stag stood up, trying to regain his dignity. “Luna, I’m sorry. I… I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“You were thinking to trick and seduce me with your little aura, since you are too much of a coward to try any other way!” Nightmare Moon roared, her chest heaving from the strain the Voice put on her lungs. Her volume dropped to a hoarse, threatening whisper. “And don’t ever talk about Storm like that again. Understand?”

“Luna,” Cernunnos said. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t… I didn’t mean to–”

“Leave, White Hart,” Nightmare Moon narrowed her eyes at the deer. “I don’t want to see you for at least another century.”

The snowy hart looked as if he was about to protest, but the sustained glare from the alicorn caused him to falter. Instead, he simply closed his eyes and bowed his head. “I know I don’t deserve your sympathy, but please know that I do love you. Goodbye, Luna.” His antlers flashed gold and, in the blink of an eye, he vanished.

Nightmare Moon closed her eyes and took several deep breaths, willing herself to be calm. When that failed, she trudged over to the divan, a dark cloud hanging over her thoughts. Slumping down onto the cushioned sofa, she blew out a furious gust of breath and glared at the floor where Cernunnos had sat beside her. After a moment, she called out to the stallions posted at the door. “Guards!”

The two bat-winged ponies came in, pushing the doors open, and bowed. “What can we do for you, Your Majesty?”

“Do not worry about the yelling. The event has come and passed, and I do not wish to speak of it again.” she said.

The Honour Guards bowed again. “Yes, Your Majesty,” one said. “Do you wish to be left alone for the rest of the night?”

“Of course,” Nightmare Moon replied. Once more, the ponies bowed and turned for the door. The Empress sat, mulling the recent events over in her head. What she had felt under the influence of that aura reopened a wound she had thought long since closed. But rather than bleeding, the wound allowed loneliness to seep in and fill her heart. Just before the guards closed the doors, the alicorn called out to them. “Actually…”

The ponies stopped and faced their Empress, waiting patiently for her order.

“Send for Twilight Sparkle,” Nightmare Moon smiled, more to herself than to the guards. “I… I desire her company tonight.”

> Awkward Questions
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chapter Ten:
Awkward Questions



Dear Twilight,

It’s good to hear from you. I hope you’re holding up over there. I know you can be pretty lonely surrounded by so many strangers. But if you’d get your head out of your books once in a while, they might not be strangers anymore, you know?

But I’m glad to hear you’re having fun, at least. Loch Mare keeps me busy, and I’m doing some odd jobs around the foster home, too. There’s not really any time for recreation, but I manage. Cobble’s also helping me with the jobs, and he’s been assigned my partner for the vocational training I’ve been on. He’s kind of a nice guy once you get to know him, as long as Blitz isn’t around. He really needs to learn to stand up to bullies, not yield to them.

It would be nice to see you again. Are we still on for that visit in a couple of weeks’ time? I can’t wait to hear all about what you’ve been learning from the Empress, and maybe you can fill me in on some of the stuff that’s happened around the palace. I bet you have some cool stories to tell.

Your friend,

Orion

============

The throne room was alive with activity. Crowds of ponies gathered in swirling, ever-changing eddies, dressed in their best clothes and talking amongst themselves. The atrium echoed with noise and shone with moon- and mage-light. Atop the Obsidian Throne, its glassy surface polished to a shine, Empress Nightmare Moon gazed forlornly down on the crowds below. So high up on the monolithic throne, it was an island of perfect isolated security. Nopony would try to shout a conversation with her, so she was perfectly safe from actually having to interact with any of the sycophants in attendance.

Officials, nobles, ministers, and other wealthy or influential ponies flooded the room. They all dripped power, and all that power gathered in one place was stifling, even for Nightmare Moon. They talked politics while sipping delicately at wine offered on trays by dapper waiters. They smiled and chatted and played their little word games, all eager to see and to be seen. A choking fog of pride rose from the crowd, condensing and mixing with bitterness, paranoia, and knife-edged smiles to swamp the floor of the throne room in the noxious, stinking sludge of devious intentions that she would much rather keep her hooves out of.

A session of Parliament, Nightmare Moon mused, was a rather civil affair. Ponies addressed their fellows as “Right Honourable” and everypony generally held their tongues until called upon by the Speaker. Everypony had their say, and rarely did anypony interrupt. Of course the debates could get passionate and there were often jeers sent across the floor when a telling blow was struck, but it was all in good humour. Members of Parliament had the rules and regulations and common courtesy to keep things civilised. Parliament was good government. But this – Nightmare Moon fought the urge to sneer in disgust – this was different.

This was Open Court.

It was a messy forum where courtiers of all colours and stripes poured in to catch up on the latest news and talk about the government, their policies, and their rivals. It was a time for planning and conversation and show. The Empress could almost taste the plots being woven at that very moment. She scanned the room, trying to find three ponies that would doubtless be at the centre of it all.

She found Duke Blueblood surrounded by a herd of peers, a dashing smile on his face as he gestured expansively in the midst of some tale or other. All of his companions were nobles or gentry of some calibre, but even the minor lords held themselves with the same aloof arrogance and pomp as any duke or marquis. The lower a noble’s rank, it seemed, the more forceful they were in proclaiming that they were indeed highborn. Nobles like them, Nightmare Moon observed, often shot these looks that only a pony of aristocratic breeding could attempt. Most often directed at the common-blooded government officials, these looks said, “You might be well-off and well-dressed. You may feel safe and cosy and successful with your job, but remember: I am better than you no matter what you accomplish, always. It’s in my blood.”  

These highborn lords and ladies hung on every word that escaped Blueblood’s lips. Though Nightmare Moon could not hear them, she knew that they laughed at all his jokes, responded well to all forms of small talks, and eagerly lapped up whatever schemes he laid bare. Blueblood himself remained dignified and casual; a paragon of the aristocratic attitude to his hangers-on. He was one of the few hard-line nobility she knew who did not constantly reek of pompousness. The Duke of Canterlot had nothing to prove, and everything to gain by comporting himself with grace and courtesy toward all. The well-groomed unicorn stallion certainly had his moments, but in court, he knew how to play almost everypony, from the lowest common official to the most powerful ponies in the Equestrian government. Which was probably why it was such fun to watch him squirm whenever one little low-born filly was concerned.

On the opposite side of the room were Marshall Silverstar and his colleagues. He was easy to spot, with his bushy sideburns and glorious moustache. The middle-aged earth pony stallion wore his parade sword at his side, neatly turned out in a  military dress uniform.  His colleagues all wore similar ceremonial uniforms; smart and plain, though nothing like what anypony on the field of battle would wear. As Nightmare Moon understood, the democratic franchise did not extend to everypony in the non-feudalistic Communes. Almost exclusively, it was members of the military who ran for office, being that those few civilians who had the opportunity or ability to run lacked the support or know-how to do so successfully. Silverstar chatted openly with the ponies around him. There was a refreshingly honest quality to the Marshall. When he wanted to say something, he said it, and he didn’t want to waste time and effort with the subtleties.

That wasn’t to say he was incapable of duplicity; indeed, he wielded his open honesty like a weapon. Where many of the court would lace their seemingly casual conversations with insults and messages that would go undetected by an untrained ear, Silverstar simply metered out precise measures of truth, like a battlefield commander arranging for the foe to see exactly what he wanted them to see. Once the unwary opponent had been drawn into a vulnerable position, he could negotiate their terms of surrender, or simply off them with a single deft stroke.

Nightmare Moon did not have to look far to find the last hub of activity, a certain fuchsia mare. Hierophant North Star was surrounded by a group of nobility and other officials, standing as close to the Obsidian Throne as possible without physically crowding the Honour Guard at its base. She had strategically placed herself so that she could face her Empress while she spoke with a small cluster of the faithful, the hopeful, and the ambitious. Occasionally, as she chatted, the mare’s eyes flicked up at Nightmare Moon. They twinkled with a foal-like adoration that seemed to shave half a decade off her already young age.

North Star had been appointed as an acolyte of the Cult at perhaps the same age Twilight was now, and had climbed the ranks of the Way ruthlessly and rapidly. Yet for all her ambition, the young mare seemed untouched by the lust for power that marked others in the court, however they tried to conceal it. She sought power as a means to an end, certainly, but Nightmare Moon had detected no hint that her devotion was anything but genuine. It was unfortunate that the power she seized was so often snatched from other powerful ponies who then had to be appeased.

North Star was passionate and full of energy, and she trained those qualities into tools for her own advancement until she stood above all but Nightmare Moon herself in the Cult. Her enthusiasm and spirit translated into a fiery charisma, and even as a mere Priestess she had found herself revered by many a rapt and loyal supporter.

Religion was still vitally important to many layponies, and as such, much power rested in the upper echelons of the Way; it owned thousands of acres of land across Equestria and swayed the proletariat and the bourgeoisie alike. But unlike more conservative ponies such as High Praise, North Star took full advantage of the Way’s influence. Her authority lay in the institutions under her oversight and the faithful she commanded. The ponies surrounding her listened to her words with keen, upright ears, as if each sentence that came from her lips was a deep philosophical insight into the inner workings of Harmony and the alicorns. If only her fawning were not so tiresome.

Nightmare Moon craned her neck over the side of her throne. There, snuggled up to the obsidian seat, Twilight sat on a cushion, reading quietly. The Empress managed a smile. Here this filly sat, so innocent and sweet, amidst a sea of perfidious, power-hungry ponies. She had no idea that conniving political machinations were being played out in the crowd before her. All she did was read her book, comforted by her closeness to Nightmare Moon while she waited for the petitions to begin.

‘Your Majesty.’ The voice of the Inquisitor rang in her mind. She turned to the smaller Chancery Throne to her left, looking down at her trusted vizier. He wore the garb of his public office tonight, rather than the Blackcloak uniform he so often sported. ‘I think it’s probably time you start accepting petitions from the public.’

The dragon-eyed alicorn nodded at his unspoken words and looked out over the throne room. Her horn glowed, bringing the platinum sceptre up from its place next to her throne. The shining, priceless thing had been dragged out of the Crown Jewels exhibit as it was for every Open Court and handed directly to the Empress for her use in passing judgment. In reality, it was little more than an oversized, overpriced gavel. Nightmare Moon banged it against the surface of her glassy dais. Three sharp cracks echoed throughout the atrium, suppressing all other noise. Eyes turned expectantly towards the Obsidian Throne.

“I declare this court open to all petitions,” Nightmare Moon said, clearly and proudly. 

The Inquisitor added his own cool, regal voice to the proclamation. “Let every stallion and mare kneel before the Throne as an equal in the eyes of Her Majesty Nightmare Moon, Empress of Equestria, Queen of Canterlot, Blessed Daughter of the Stars.” His words were carefully scripted, although the exact details had changed significantly over the centuries. In the past, the already cumbersome formal declaration would have been several times longer.

The throng of ponies at once dropped to their knees in a single, swift motion. A beat late, a soft shuffling noise came from the side of the throne as Twilight scrambled to imitate the obeisance. Then, at Nightmare Moon’s lazy wave, they rose and quickly filed to the sides of the room, leaving an aisle in the middle free. A small group of ponies – Duke Blueblood, Marshall Silverstar and Hierophant North Star included – gathered around the Obsidian Throne, ready to offer quick counsel to the Empress during the petitions. Their voices were hushed, murmuring amongst themselves in impatient anticipation. The noise was at a tolerable level so far, but Nightmare Moon was well prepared to control the attendants if they became too loud. Indeed, she relished the opportunity to lash out at the courtiers whenever the opportunity presented itself. One of the perks of being Empress was the ability to berate and yell at the most powerful of people at the slightest provocation. It was rather cathartic, really.

The first of the petitioners arrived, ushered in by the guards. The earth pony mare carried herself with a low-ranking noble’s air of inflated self-importance, and her gorgeously-kempt blond mane topped a coat of the shining white that the nobility loved so. She held her gait elegantly, neither hurrying to attend the Empress nor quailing from her presence. Only the lack of a family sigil on her finery marked her as a wealthy commoner rather than an aristocrat. Of course this one would be first, Nightmare Moon thought cynically. It took quite a bit of pull or luck to have your case personally overseen by the Empress, and many of the ponies that would petition her that night had likely been waiting for weeks or months. However, the wealthy could often buy their way into the schedule – the Crown was always in need of money, after all.

The mare stopped a respectful distance from the Obsidian Throne and bowed deeply, pressing her head to the floor. Nightmare smiled to see one of the more privileged members of society humble herself so; the earth pony knew her place and respected the formality of the court.

“Rise,” she said to the mare. The earth pony did as she was told and faced her Empress with pride, but Nightmare Moon could see a hint of unease in her eyes which the mare didn’t allow to show in her stride. “State your name.”

“My name is Dainty Dove, Your Majesty,” she said. Her accent definitely marked her as hailing from the upper crust of Manehattan society, but Nightmare detected a faint tremor that suggested she was in fact assuming the cultivated (and rather nasal) manner of speech that the Equestrian elite favoured. Credit where credit is due, though, the Empress decided. She is imitating it very well.

“And what is your petition?”

“I own the Fillydelphia Cereal Company, Your Majesty,” Dainty began. “We produce over sixty percent of the Empire’s barley and almost fifteen percent of its wheat. The recent law change regarding the conservation of water and management of rain patterns has diverted productive potential from our fields due to environmental concerns. While these are wise and noble decisions on behalf of your government, they are affecting the nation’s supply and output of cereals.”

“And you wish for these laws to be overturned, or at least loosened, in order to regain your productivity.” The Empress raised a brow.

“Only at your leisure, of course. My company provides for all of Equestria, and for many of our allies. The FCC granaries feed millions of Equestrian citizens and the more we can produce, more ponies will be satisfied. Not only that, but our employees enjoy better pay if we are able to supply more to the market.”

Nightmare Moon gazed down at the mare as her mind ran. While she knew she was not as deceptively cunning or analytic or canny as some of her underlings, there was truly nothing new under the moon, and she had lifetimes of practice both at ruling and at following the political manoeuvers of ponies great and small. This mare could have arranged to meet with her privately, or with her ministers to try and gain special dispensation through Parliament. How did that old saying go? Fail in your meeting, go to Parliament; fail in Parliament, go to Court? 

As it was, petitioning the Empress in Open Court probably was her best chance to see her request granted. The likelihood was that this mare was one of the many ponies she had overlooked when it came to arranging private audiences, and the other channels of government had probably failed her too. The court of the Empress offered many incentives for some people to try their luck before the Obsidian Throne. The presence of powerful witnesses placed a very real peer pressure on Nightmare Moon, and at least one of her advisers was often sympathetic to a petitioner’s cause and added their weight to it. The time constraint also worked in the supplicant’s favour. Much to the alicorn’s discomfort, she couldn’t drag out her decisions. 

In the old nights, these factors could be ignored as she liked and decisions were made on a whim, without argument or appeal. Peer pressure and the considerations of government officials were not taken into account when she had revelled in the sheer intoxicating power of her alicornhood and the crown that came with it. Parliament hadn’t even existed until relatively recently. Now she had to be more careful and considerate, but neither did she have to enforce every edict with threats and terror. What was once an iron-hoofed rule of autocracy was now more elegant and bureaucratic. There were ponies that she had to rely upon, and their feelings and cooperation suddenly mattered. Somewhere along the line, Nightmare Moon realised, she had gone from a ruler being served by her nation to a ruler serving her nation.

‘She’s an ambitious one,’ the Inquisitor observed. ‘Dainty Dove is a prominent supporter of both the Duke of Canterlot and the Hierophant. In light of the recent decisions that may have… offended Blueblood, might I suggest we consider granting her request? It would be something of an olive branch to him.’

Nightmare Moon stifled a snort. “I remember the reason for those laws, Miss Dove. You are asking for me to overturn legislation that prevents the continued destabilisation of the Maresissippi for private benefits to a corporation?”

“I… I have charts and maps, Your Majesty.” On cue, a servant walked up to the Obsidian Throne and passed around several scrolls amongst the gathered advisers. Nightmare Moon unrolled her own copy and studied its contents. A complicated meteorological map swallowed the parchment, leaving room only for an even more complicated set of graphs. Such things were not her forte, but from what she could tell, fields owned by Dainty Dove’s Fillydelphia Cereal Company would benefit from an increased volume of rainfall. Unfortunately, it was clear that the Maresissippi drainage basin was also going to be receiving a dangerously large amount of rain as a result.

Nightmare Moon scowled in thought. If I do allow this new weather pattern, the long-term effects on the river and its watershed – not to mention the ponies living around it – could be catastrophic, and all for the benefit of this mare’s quarterly statement.

“Your Majesty, if I may?”

All eyes fell on Blueblood the Ninth. Nightmare Moon looked down at the foot of the Obsidian Throne where he stood, radiating confidence, staring up at her and waiting politely. She nodded her assent.

“The FCC is one Equestria’s top exporters in cereal goods. The extra revenue from corporation tax alone will be a great benefit to the government, and I am sure that Miss Dove will be more than willing to accept such a cost for the gracious gift of your blessing and assistance. The output of the economy is a boon to everypony, and we will be better off if we help our businesses.”

There was a short burst of support – the polite, but firm, tapping of hooves and a chorus of “aye” – from the crowd, mostly amongst the aristocracy; supporters of Blueblood, North Star and big business. Nightmare Moon sighed quietly, resigning herself to the decision. Surrounded by so many in favour of the idea, the Empress couldn’t do much to turn it down, even when sensibility dictated that meddling with the river could lead to disastrous consequences. The Inquisitor was right, she needed to give Blueblood something to be pleased about, and the Empire as a whole could perhaps reap some kind of reward from this plan, even if it was just a little extra money circulating around the economy.

The Empress looked down to Marshal Silverstar, who stood amongst the gathered advisors. He wore a thoughtful frown on his face, but was totally silent. Strange, Nightmare Moon thought, I would have thought he of all ponies would speak out against this. But despite the military stallion’s hatred of large corporations and oligopolies, he held his tongue. Nightmare Moon could list any number of reasons for his decision, but for simplicity’s sake, she decided to assume the pragmatic pony didn’t want to seem petty.

“Very well,” the Empress said at last. It seemed her government was almost unanimous on the issue. A shame really, she thought bitterly, my policies have been once again overturned in the interest of balance of power. “You shall have your rain. I expect to see this boon yield great prosperity for Equestria as a whole. And, mark my words, if I see the slightest possibility of a flood in the Maresissippi watershed, I am reinstating the legislation.”

The earth pony mare bowed low once more. “Thank you, Your Majesty. I shall make sure this is used for your empire’s benefit.”

Of course you will. Nightmare Moon prevented herself from rolling her eyes as Dainty Dove scurried away to be replaced by another. They all asked similarly self-interested things: boons, support, donations, even the odd audacious tax break. The Empress leapt on what opportunities she could, gleefully exercising her power whenever a particularly arrogant or annoying petitioner reared their head. Slapping down the self-righteous bourgeoisie felt so satisfying; the Empress occasionally entertained the idea of leading a revolution among the proletariat. It would all be worth it just to see the guillotine drop.

But as time went on, the wealthy upper-crust Equestrians who had enough pull to skip the wait had all made their requests and left with their answers. Now the common folk began to shuffle into the throne room to be heard. For the most part, their cases were just as petty as those of the higher classes. Bickering neighbours brought their territorial dispute directly to the Empress, who grew fed up enough to simply grab a provided map and draw a line down the middle. Half-and-half seemed very fair, but the looks of both the farmers’ faces told her they thought otherwise. Well, it was their own fault for failing to work it out themselves. If there was one good thing Nightmare Moon could say about the nobility, it was that they knew how to take “no” for an answer with aplomb.

Anyway, if neither felt that they had won, it must have been reasonably fair after all.

Requests for charity and justice were far more pleasant. She treated these as opportunities to show her empire that she cared for the common pony. An ancient stallion was one of those who came for charity. The old unicorn had a bushy grey beard and coat like the flesh of a peach, and his sparse, wiry grey mane and tail could have been used to scrub pots. He bowed his head reverently as he spoke.  

“Your Majesty, I’m Fresh Air, and I run an orphanage out in the Western colonies. It’s all I really care about since my wife died and I retired,” he croaked. Age had dug its roots deep into his throat and made his voice creak like a dry branch. “Folk’re good to each other out there, but it’s a tough land. There’s wild beasts and sickness and plenty of disasters, so there’s always a few kids that end up orphaned with no kin to care for ‘em. We do the best we can – give them a place to stay and food to eat and make sure they go to school – but we don’t have much else. It ain’t the place for foals to grow up nicely.”

“What is it you desire?” the Empress asked.

“We’re strapped for funds just keepin’ food on their plates. If Your Majesty could find it in her heart to donate some money to the orphanage, we could builds some proper facilities for the foals: a playground, a games room or library, and some comfier beds or a better kitchen and the like.”

His request hung in the air as the obsidian alicorn mulled it over. She didn’t have the chance to think for very long, though, as her counsellors were quick to voice the pros and cons for her.

“Your Majesty, there’s a crisis developing with the griffons and the government cannot afford to waste its resources on long-term projects like this,” the Marshal declared. “I support making life on the frontier in the Wilds better, but funding this stallion’s community is a luxury that we can’t afford.”

The Duke nodded. “I must concur; the government is too far in debt to spend money on every pony who comes to court to try to tug at our heartstrings. It sets a bad precedent, and we are not everypony’s rich uncle, here to dole out a few bits every time the rent comes due.”

Her other advisors nodded their heads in agreement and murmured their opposition to the poor old stallion’s request. North Star remained silent and completely uninterested in the whole thing, but she was making an effort to at least look like it mattered to her. The Inquisitor had taken to completely ignoring the whole thing and instead was writing in a notebook that had appeared on his person out of thin air. 

Nightmare Moon frowned. She couldn’t help but feel somewhat disappointed that her government had decided to sacrifice kindness and generosity for cold pragmatism. Although they made good points, she had been expecting at least one of her inner circle to voice some sort of support for the cause, even just to appear like a charitable soul. Were the others really that much of a bunch of yes-ponies that they agreed with everything the four major players said? The old stallion deflated as the group beneath the Obsidian Throne dismissed his request one by one.

Nightmare Moon looked to her right. All this talk of orphanages reminded her of Twilight Sparkle. The little filly had set her book down and looked piteously at the old stallion. Those big, shining eyes were filled with such sympathy for the peach unicorn who stood in the middle of the Imperial Palace throne room, waiting for his request to be denied. The alicorn felt her heart twist at seeing her student so heartbroken by the cold realities of court.

“Twilight Sparkle,” she said. The filly’s ears twitched and she turned to look up at the mare. “What do you think about this?” 

The room went suddenly still as over a hundred socialites suppressed gasps of shock. If any had noticed the Empress’s student, they regarded her as nothing more than a mere ornament. But here she was, being asked for input by the Queen of the Night as if she was a member of the Privy Council. All eyes fell upon the little lavender unicorn, and she slowly cringed under the weight of their gazes. 

“I… I…” Twilight stuttered, but couldn’t seem to make a complete sentence. Her ears folded back and beads of sweat formed on her forehead.

She’s freezing up! For fear of her student humiliating herself in front of the entire Equestrian Court the very first time she participated, Nightmare leaned down and added in a hushed voice, “Think of it as one of our hypotheticals.”

Twilight nodded and took a deep breath, drawing herself back up. She gave a cursory glance to the old stallion, and to the members of the Privy Council, and then stared downwards; her face fixed with the thoughtful expression that Nightmare Moon had seen dozens of times in their sessions together. It was after a moment or two of this that she looked back up to the Empress. Her eyes focussed solely on the alicorn, as if trying to will the rest of the room’s occupants into a simple blur at the periphery of her vision.

“Well, I guess it wouldn’t really be fair to give Mister Air some money but not other orphanages, and the government probably really doesn’t have enough money to buy new stuff for all of them. But it’s still not good to just brush him off,” the filly answered. Her voice was clear and her speech surprisingly mature. Twilight spoke with a thoughtfulness and sobriety that one would never expect to hear from an eight-year-old filly. “He represents a lot of foals who don’t have anything in their lives but each other and a kind guardian who’s doing his best to give them the kind of life they deserve. If we can’t buy the libraries, bedrooms, and playground equipment ourselves, then maybe we could make a charity for ponies to give money for those things, and make sure everypony knows about it? That would be just as good as if we gave Mister Air the money.” 

Finished, Twilight blinked and scanned the room, absorbing all the staring faces and their myriad expressions. Her ears folded back again and she attempted to press herself into the Obsidian Throne in the vain hope it would hide her from all the attention. “Or something… just a suggestion…”

The Empress smiled. “A wise and creative suggestion, my student.” She turned to Fresh Air, who looked a little more hopeful than he had been a few minutes before. “The idea of a charity with my official blessing, established to better the lives of unfortunate foals in the Western Wilds appeals to me, and your orphanage shall be the first to benefit from it. I will make the first donation from my own private finances.”

The old stallion’s eyes widened and he bowed deeply. “Oh, thank you, Your Majesty! I’m forever in your debt!”

Murmurs drifted about the atrium. The Empress knew what it looked like to casual observers – her student’s idea chosen in favor of the advice of her actual advisors. Honestly though, they offered no solution that was even a little creative. They’ve become far too lazy. Simple “yes” and “no” answers highlighted how little some of her Privy Council thought of most of these petitions; there was no will to put the effort into thinking of a third solution. And, yes, perhaps she could say the same of herself. Luckily, Twilight’s idea gave the alicorn all the necessary precedent she needed to give the old stallion what she wanted without offending her counsellors by overruling their decisions – and she really could not afford to offend them just now. 

Nightmare Moon shifted to a more regal, sombre expression, drowning her smile under a layer of formality. “Yes, yes,” she waved her hoof. “Bring in the next petitioner!” 

And so they continued. Justice was as impartial as Nightmare Moon could allow herself to make it. There was a fine balance between sacrificing her own feelings on justice and sacrificing the good will and support of some elements of her government. Many of the disputes for the lower classes were challenging corporations, wealthy ponies, and the nobility over land, taxes, and legal transactions, among other things. As always, the wealthy and the highborn were linked to the gears that enabled her country to run. Despite her principles, Nightmare Moon found herself often ruling in favour of nobles, even if they were in the wrong. Powerful friends at court were, in many cases, the difference between having a request rejected or accepted. 

There were also smaller, less important petitions; blessings of weddings and births, promises of town visits and ribbon-cuttings and invitations to events. A junior bureaucrat with a sombre tan coat and a shockingly pink mane had travelled from some tiny hamlet in the Heartland Valley to ask “whether it might please Your Majesty to grace the humble town of Ponyville with your presence for the Running of the Leaves festival?” The Empress’s answer was a quick glance at a slip of paper she pretended was her schedule and a polite “no”. It wasn’t that she hated attending public events – breaking the rut of royal life for a night was an opportunity she relished, in fact – but Nightmare Moon was never comfortable in ceremonies commemorating the autumn. There were too many memories.

By the time the village mare left, court had been going on for a couple of hours. Ponies were visibly growing weary, with their carefully held posture straining with fatigue. They could only stand around and observe and talk for so long until there was nothing left to do. Boredom was apparent in everyone; the Inquisitor had taken off his red cloak and loosened his collar, lounging on the Chancery Throne. Even Twilight had fallen asleep, leaning against Nightmare Moon’s seat with a book covering her face. The Empress quickly prodded her student awake with a magical touch.

“Bring in the final petitioner!” she commanded.

As it turned out, the final request was to be presented by two ponies rather than one. A pair of mares came before the throne and bowed low. Immediately the Queen of the Night could see the two were almost polar opposites, both in looks and in bearing. One was a pale brown unicorn sporting an unkempt mane the colour and texture of a bundle of straw. She stared at Nightmare Moon more directly than most nobles would have dared, a deadly serious expression in her neon-pink eyes. The Empress truly hoped she wouldn’t take it into her head to climb up the throne itself and give Nightmare Moon a piece of her mind.

Her earth pony companion, on the other hoof, seemed terrified to be there. She remained at in half-crouch after they finished their bow, huddled close to the straw-haired mare. Her eyes were as jittery as the other mare’s were confident, flicking around the room as if avoiding Nightmare Moon at all. She looked much softer than her counterpart, with a slightly fluffy jasmine coat and a wavy lavender mane that swirled down from the top of her head. The other mare touched her shoulder and she straightened up a little, visibly calming herself. Nightmare Moon smiled inwardly. Ah, young love. They had probably come to ask her to bless their upcoming wedding or some similar triviality, but the Empress found the way the shyer one gained confidence from her partner refreshing. It made her remember that beyond the walls of the palace, beyond all the cold, calculating politics and hateful bickering, was the loving country she worked to protect.

“What are your names?” she asked.

The yellow-maned unicorn spoke first. “My name’s Bright Light, and this is my wife, Petal.”

Not here for a wedding blessing, then, Nightmare Moon thought. “What is it you wish to ask of me, Miss Light?”

“Well, Your Majesty, Petal and I’ve been doing some thinking and… and we’ve decided we want to start a family. A little colt or filly to call our own, y’know?” She grinned, her nervousness finally starting to show.

The Empress gave her a faint grin. “I understand that is usually the way one starts a family, yes. Is there some difficulty with the adoption process?”

“Ah, no, Your Majesty,” Bright Light said. “We wanted the foal to be, well, ours.”

Cute couple or no, Nightmare Moon’s patience began to wear thin. “And you require my intervention because…?” she prompted.

“I-it’s just that we want our foal to be natural, Your Majesty,” Petal’s soft, unsure intervention moved the Empress’s questioning gaze to her. She blanched slightly at the attention before continuing her explanation. "We want the foal to be ours in spirit and blood. I'd... like to be the one to carry her, but we hoped that she could be Light's, too."

There were one or two faint gasps from the magical experts in the audience, but otherwise a long, perplexed silence followed. Petal drew back to the comfort of her wife, and they waited for the Empress to reply with increasing tension in their eyes. Obviously, their request had to be denied, but Nightmare wanted to let the couple down easy. They were simply ignorant in the law, and the dragon-eyed alicorn sympathised with them. 

The Empress sat up straight and mustered as much passive authority as she could with which to augment her words. “Surely you know what you ask of me?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Bright Light answered with the utmost confidence. “We are asking you to help us make a baby with magic; so Petal can be pregnant with a foal that has a bit of both of us.”

“And do you know the law regarding such a thing?”

The unicorn blinked. “Uh… no, Your Majesty. I didn’t know there’s even a law for it.”

“Well, there is,” Nightmare Moon huffed and tried to remain patient. “It is many thousands of years old; enshrined by my ancestors and well-codified even by the time I came to the throne. I respect my ancestors, and I have framed this Empire around their tenets. One such tenet was that the artificial creation of life through magic was forever forbidden.”

“What?!” Bright Light’s jaw dropped. The Empress could see the hope dying in her eyes and she felt a pang of sympathy for the young mares, but she ground on regardless. “As a result, I will not grant you your request.” The words were said with a grim finality.

The more dainty of the two mares looked heartbroken. Tears welled up in her eyes and she let her head hang limp. The unicorn protectively pulled her close and glared at the Empress with an argumentative defiance that Nightmare Moon decided she did not like at all.

“Please, you have to reconsider,” she said. “We need this.”

“I am afraid that I have to refuse to break the laws of my ancestors to satisfy your desires.” Nightmare raised her brow and lowered her head in what she hoped would look like a gesture of sorrowful understanding. “You must understand.”

Bright Light gave a short, gruff sound that could have been mistaken for a cough. I really hope that was not a scoff, Nightmare Moon thought. I don’t want to have to get too firm with these two. “Your Majesty, please,” she begged, almost through gritted teeth. “That law must be thousands of years old. We don’t need it nowanights. I mean, sure the alicorns were wise and everything, but they didn’t live in the modern age. Surely some laws can be changed.”

The Empress frowned, her patience was stretched nearly to breaking point, but she vowed to try to see this argument through without putting the mare down too harshly. “It is not as simple as that. Laws so enshrined and sacred must be kept. I am sure adoption is not such a bad alternative.”

“But… you don’t… understand,” Bright Light said through clenched teeth. Her partner was looking on the situation with puffy, tear-filled eyes. “This is so important to us. We really need this foal thing. We don’t want somepony else’s foal, we want our own! Why can’t you bend the rules just this once? We’re only talking about one kid! One tiny favour…”

“Because there cannot be any room for favours or rule-bending or special cases,” the Queen of the Night snapped. She drew back and tried to compose herself; making her voice as level as she could while not sacrificing the imperial demeanour she had to maintain in court. “The magical creation of life is illegal for a reason. What is to stop ponies from using this to justify creating lifeforms of their own, without my supervision or that of any other responsible official? Everypony would like their children to be the smartest, the strongest, the fastest… but try to imagine the world where that magic is available to all. Our society would not survive. Moreover, what's to stop others from using the same magic to create monsters and even ponies born only to serve as their personal soldiers? It has happened before. Conflicts have been fuelled and exacerbated by such activities. I will not allow these precedents to be set just because you want a foal. I will not endanger this country for you. I am trying to be patient with you, but you fail to understand that I have refused your petition. My word is final, and the laws of my ancestors are absolute.”

As the echoes of her final words faded, the silence of the throne room was tarnished only by small murmurs and whispers from the crowds of officials. The Empress shot a quick glance to the Inquisitor, whose face betrayed a laid-back look of enjoyment at the unravelling situation. Damn him, she thought. Returning her eyes to the two mares, she found that Bright Light was staring at the floor with a frown in dejected contemplation. Petal had now drawn herself back up, tugging at her wife.

“Come on, Light,” she whispered; her voice carrying well in the chamber. “We should go.”

But the straw-maned mare refused to budge. She shrugged her lover’s hoof off her shoulder and took a step forward. Standing guard at the foot of the Obsidian Throne, Proud Song tensed in response. His posture only shifted a fraction, but Nightmare Moon noticed his wings were almost unfolded and he bent his knees – prepared to receive and repel a charge.

“No,” Bright Light growled. “It isn’t fair. If we were nobles or some rich, stuck-up banker, we’d be allowed this. If we’re able to get a child that’s really both of ours, then we should. Why should it be illegal just because a bunch of ponies got together thousands of years ago and said so? You don’t know what it’s like, to want a child that’s really yours, but you can never have it. Please!”

Nightmare Moon flinched at her words. They cut deeper than most would think. She knew that, in the eyes of the public, she was virtually sexless; eternal and beyond the desires and processes of mortal people. But that couldn’t be further from the truth, she thought despondently. Memories drifted through her mind like phantoms; her mother’s voice explaining to her that her generation would be the last of the alicorns, that she could never have a child of her own; finding out only much, much later how heavily that would weigh on her soul.

Old dreams rose from the dark corners of her heart, dreams of sustaining a child and bonding with it before it was even born. A flight of fancy, mockingly vivid, pictured a foal who shared her own coat colour and cheekbones, but in its eyes and muzzle lay a hint of Winter Storm. She blinked away the ghostly image as quickly as it appeared, but the lingering ache in her chest was far more difficult to banish.

The Empress of Equestria gritted her teeth. She sympathised with the two more than any in the throne room could, but there was a limit to her tolerance for the audacity of mortals in the face of their ruler. She drew herself up, a deep frown marring her features. “Begone, mare, before I have the guards drag you out! Do not come back again!”

The brown-coated mare looked as if she had been kicked in the stomach. In her eyes, Nightmare could see that the finality of her rejection was fully realised at last; bitter tears began to collect in them. Under her breath, Bright Light muttered. 

“You monster.”

In the lofty atrium, her whisper carried and echoed, reaching the ears of Nightmare Moon. The alicorn’s eyes flared a bright, wrathful white and clouds swirled into being to darken the sky beyond the stained-glass windows. She shot to her hooves, wings spreading wide as lightning crashed and roared above the castle. The gathered ponies shared a collective jolt, and Petal’s eyes went as wide as saucers. Even somepony as brash as Bright Light was cowed by the rage of their ruler. 

“You dare?!” Nightmare Moon boomed over the fading rolls of thunder. “You dare insult your Empress? Guards, take her out of my sight and place her in a cell." 

Two guards stepped forward to grab the cowering mare, whose eyes darted desperately to her lover, who stood petrified with fear. “No, wait…” Nightmare Moon’s furious snarl turn to a smile as cold as the crescent moon. “Take that one.” She pointed to Petal.

Bright Light leapt towards Petal, but Proud Song was there ahead of her. He tackled her to the ground and held her pinned while the guards grabbed the earth pony, who only then seemed to realise what was happening and shrieked her wife’s name.

“Petal!” Bright Light cried from beneath the thestral, struggling in spite of Proud Song's iron grip. 

“Brigh–!” Petal’s cry was cut off by the echoing boom of the throne room doors.

The mare was taken out, and a deadly silence was left, filled only by the shuffling of hooves and the odd faint cough. Nightmare Moon turned to the Inquisitor, who only offered a simple, amused smile. She huffed and then, all of a sudden, remembered Twilight.

She looked to her right and saw the filly. Like much of the room, she too was taken by surprise at Nightmare Moon’s bout of rage. But, seeing her young student shivering and cowering was strangely unpleasant for the alicorn – more unpleasant than she would have first thought. And she saw in the eyes of Twilight Sparkle something that made her heart drop. She saw fear. Turning to the hundreds of staring faces in the room, she held her face as rigid and imperially indifferent as she could. 

“Court is adjourned,” the Empress announced, stepping down off of the Obsidian Throne, looking back to her student. “Come, Twilight.”

The little lavender unicorn followed her, reluctantly and timidly, as she made her way along the red carpet in a bee-line for the exit. The crowds would merge and ponies would once again mingle, likely this time to gossip about her outburst and actions like schoolchildren. But Nightmare Moon did not care. She just wanted to pour herself a strong drink and relax. Passing through those massive arches of the doorway, the Empress walked determinedly on down the halls of the palace, a dark cloud hanging over her head.

============

Twilight trailed just behind the Empress with the nervous air of a prisoner about to be thrown to the lions. She felt the worm of anxiety wriggling its way through her innards and curling up into an uncomfortable weight in her gut. She dared only a few brief glances at the great black alicorn before planting them safely on the floor once again.

A dark cloud hung over Nightmare Moon’s head. She walked with no grace or gaiety or even her practiced, regal confidence. She stalked. The Empress was too proud and controlled to show any more overt signs of anger after the incident had passed, but Twilight could feel the fury radiating off of her like heat from a pot fresh off the stove. Nightmare Moon kept her eyes front and her face absolutely rigid.

The Honour Guards at the entrance to the Royal Apartments hastily opened the doors as the Queen of the Night and her student approached. Nightmare Moon made a beeline for Twilight’s room, where she commanded in a voice that seethed with pressurized frustration, “Stay here.”

Twilight obeyed silently, and the alicorn left the room without another word. The filly realised that she had, until now, never actually seen her teacher get angry. A little frustrated or annoyed perhaps, but what she had taken for anger was a mere flicker of exasperation. The mood lingered, smokelike, in the air even with Nightmare Moon’s departure. Twilight retreated to the dubious safety of her bed, wondering how long she had to stay put. Until she says otherwise, I guess. Was this the extent of her temper, or had the Empress let loose only a fraction of her rage on the two mares? Did Nightmare Moon get that angry often, or was this a unique incident?

These questions buzzed around Twilight’s inquisitive mind, but she had only a few minutes to muse before the click of the door latch startled her out of her contemplation and Nightmare Moon let herself in. Wrapped in shimmering purple light, a half-empty wineglass and its accompanying bottle floated next to the alicorn. Appearing to have calmed down, she gave Twilight an attempt of a comforting smile, although the tense edges of her lips belied her.

Drifting over to a pair of large cushions by the window, Nightmare Moon sighed as if she had been on her hooves all day long and waved Twilight over to join her. The filly watched her cautiously for a moment longer, then slid off the bed and sank down on the second cushion. “How did you find your first experience of court?” The Empress asked in a carefully calm tone.

“Oh, it was… all right, I guess,” Twilight managed a nervous smile before the silence sloshed back into the room like the dark wine that Nightmare Moon poured into her glass. Then Twilight screwed up her courage and asked, “Empress, are you… okay?”

The alicorn’s smile wavered for a moment, then finally vanished in a heavy sigh. The change was instantaneous; Nightmare Moon’s shoulders sagged with the weight of a millennium of troubles and her neck bowed as if her crown were the greatest burden of all. Though physically she was beautiful and young, in that moment her face held every last year of her age. “It is a silly thing, Twilight. I shouldn’t be affected by it.”

The filly persisted staring her down with searching eyes. Eventually, Nightmare Moon relented and let out another sigh.

“I have given so much to the building of this country. I have tried to make it work and I have tried to be a good ruler to… to make up for my mistakes in the past. But sometimes I think that, no matter what, nothing will change. I will continue to hurt my little ponies and they will continue to misunderstand this country and what must be done and I try to make them understand. I try to protect them and I try to make them love me, but it seems that I will always end up a tyrant.” She drained her glass and filled it once again.

Twilight’s eyes widened with shock at what she was hearing. The Empress of Equestria, seemingly so perfect and confident and… divine, was actually doubting herself! The filly struggled to somehow fit this tired, conflicted mare into the regal, wise, and powerful Empress she thought she knew. It just… didn’t fit! Twilight tried with all her might to understand her mentor’s feelings, but she simply couldn’t grasp why a couple of mares should upset the Empress so.

“You’re not a tyrant, Your Majesty,” the filly said. “That mare was trying to break the law, and she was so rude to you. She should’ve expected to be punished going on like that, but…”

The teacher raised a brow. “But?”

“Did you have to throw Miss Petal in jail because of what her wife did? Shouldn’t Bright Light be punished instead of her?” Twilight cringed reflexively at the memory. “It’s a little… cruel.”

The Empress chuckled softly, a mischievous smile stretched across her tired face. Her student frowned in confusion, but she just shook her head in response. “Don’t worry, Twilight. She will not stay in the dungeon for long. In a few hours, I will have her brought up to a palace suite; much nicer than a cell, wouldn’t you say?”

“Why didn’t you just imprison Bright Light instead? That would have been easier… and fairer.”

“I think it will make Miss Light seriously consider her deplorable attitude in the future,” Nightmare Moon said, now losing her smile and mirth. “I know her type. She now has real incentive to change her attitude, and she will have a pleasant surprise when she learns I am not so heartless as she thought. If I had simply thrown her in the dungeons to rot, it would have made her stubborn and rebellious; it would confirm my status as a tyrant in her eyes.”

Twilight stood up and walked over to a bookshelf, staring up at it with searching eyes. When she found what she was looking for, the unicorn pulled a volume off the shelf and resumed her place in front of the Empress. She showed the book to her teacher – Aristrotle’s Politics – and opened it up, following the index to the desired page. “Aristrotle says that ‘A tyrant has no regard to any public interest, except as conducive to their private ends; their aim is pleasure’. But that doesn't fit you at all! A tyrant doesn’t pay attention to the law, but you tried to follow the laws the alicorns made and explain them to those mares, too. And before all that, you did your best to help the ponies who came to you with problems!” The little lavender filly gave the alicorn an encouraging smile. “You’re not a tyrant, Your Majesty.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Nightmare Moon said, though her tone remained gloomy. “Maybe I’m not exactly tyrannical, but there have still been many mistakes I have made over the centuries and they have a way of coming back to haunt me. Habits made long ago are hard to break no matter how hard you try, and they leave a lasting impression in the minds of the populace.”

“What do you mean?” Twilight asked.

“Do you remember when I told you about the early history of the Empire?” The filly nodded her head, and the mare continued. “Back then, in the past, I was… tyrannical. I realise that, now that I can evaluate my past actions with a clearer head. I did not often rule with others in mind. I did many things that have ensured that everypony will look on me with fear forever. Most fear for their safety when they speak to me, for they still think I would have them exe… taken care of if they insult me. That rambunctious mare tonight was the foolishly brave exception, it seems.”

“But Empress, ponies don’t fear you!” Twilight said, batting away the pang of guilt at what she knew was a bold-faced lie. “You should see how much Moondancer and her friends love the whole idea of royalty. They were thrilled when they heard I was going to be your student!”

“Little fillies impressed by royalty and princesses are a bit different from my subjects looking on me with love, but I appreciate your optimism.” Nightmare Moon gave Twilight a thankful smile. “No, there are many who look back on history and see me as a singular, near-transcendent ruler. This kind of ruler must be feared, or at least avoided as much as possible. I guess I am afraid of slipping up and repeating the mistakes of my past, and that the fear of my subjects will be the catalyst of such folly.”

“But you won’t,” Twilight frowned, firm and unwavering. A combination of innocence and adoration of the Empress stripped her of any nervousness she had previously been feeling. “You can’t possibly be a tyrant or whatever bad thing you think you were before. I’ve seen how nice you can be, and I know that you really just want to help people.”

Nightmare Moon’s smile grew ever larger. “Your faith in me is heartening, Twilight. It is good to know I can always turn to you for comfort whenever I need it.” 

The filly blushed at the comment. Such high praise and confidence from her tutor, the Empress of Equestria, was something she could only have dreamed of a few months ago. But then, the small voice of doubt began feeding her questions in her moment of elation. Was she really that confident of her teacher’s mercy and kindness? What would it take for her to switch to the terrible tyrant that some of those back at the orphanage whispered about? Had she not just seen her throw a mare in prison for speaking out of turn?

Twilight blinked, struggling to rid herself of those doubts, but they continued despite her efforts. Why am I still so nervous around Nightmare Moon, the voice of doubt asked her, if she’s supposed to be a kind ruler? As Twilight searched for a satisfactory answer, the alicorn spoke again.

“While we are on the subject of ruling by fear, I have heard some disturbing things about your behaviour recently.” Nightmare Moon’s smile dropped to the doleful grimace of a judge. “I wanted to speak to you about it, but I haven’t had the opportunity until now.”

The filly shrank away from Nightmare Moon as the Empress raised her long, graceful neck to its full height. The vulnerable mare had vanished once more, cloaked behind the mantle of authority. 

As the silence stretched, Twilight realized she was expected to respond. She swallowed her anxiety and squeaked, “What about my behaviour, Your Majesty?” A dozen different things that she could have done to offend the ruler of Equestria crossed her mind. Oh no! What if she knows I stole her key and snuck into the Hesperidium? A new fear for her life at the castle gripped her. Pounding against her ribcage, her heart launched itself into overdrive.

“One of the guards told me you tried to use your position as my student to gain entry to the forbidden magic vaults yesternight,” Nightmare said. “It was disconcerting to hear that you tried to pressure him into letting you through, though thankfully he was wise enough to bar you from entry.” The alicorn paused for effect, looking down at Twilight with an impassive expression that made the filly feel as though the noose was tightening around her neck. “I was then curious as to whether you had behaved as such before, so I looked into it. I was surprised to find that you apparently accosted a little filly in the hallway and destroyed her tiara. According to her, you said that should she tell anypony, you would lie and have her thrown in the dungeon. Is this true?”

Options ran through Twilight’s mind. She could lie, or deflect the question, or anything else that might get her out of trouble. But in the face of those piercing draconic eyes, pinned in place by an unflinching gaze as stern as any mother’s, the little unicorn found she couldn’t say anything else but, “Yes.”

Her head hung low in shame as the impassive face of Nightmare Moon settled into a look of disappointment. Somehow, to Twilight, it was worse than any burst of anger. “Twilight,” the alicorn sighed sternly. “I would have thought you of all ponies would not fall prey to such thinking. Why in Equestria would you want to use your position to bully ponies into giving you what you want?”

Twilight’s ears flattened. “I’m sorry.”

“You are only sorry because you were caught,” Nightmare Moon frowned. “This isn’t the behaviour I expected from my personal student. The abuse of power is a serious thing, Twilight. You cannot use your position to blackmail and threaten those below you.”

“But… but…” But you do it, was what Twilight was about to say. Instead, she bit back her words and swallowed, taking time to think before responding. “I only did that to the filly because she was being horrid to me because I was a commoner and she was a noble. I just wanted to teach her a lesson…”

“And what lesson is that? That she should turn her attentions on somepony else instead? That she should use her own position in the same way? Why didn’t you just tell me about it so I could have had a word with her father? Why did you break her tiara and terrorise her?” 

Twilight felt sweat beads starting to form on her forehead. “I… I thought she would learn a lesson that way, I just… I didn’t really think. I just reacted and I thought I could make it sink in because I was so… because I’m your protégée.”

“We both know that because you are close to me, you have a position of power in the eyes of others. That power gives you the opportunity to abuse it. Remember Aristrotle: ‘A tyrant has no regard to any public interest, except as conducive to their private ends; their aim is pleasure’. You didn’t decide to bully her out of some sense of the greater good; you did it because it served you privately. Because it made you feel good. You have the responsibility to wield your influence with care. I learned this from my own mistakes a long time ago, and I still struggle to act as I should. If you continue to use your position to take power over others, it will lead down a very slippery slope. You will end up doing things that you once would have never even considered, not because you think you can justify them – though you might try – but just because you can. And one night, you will realize that you have done something that can never be undone. Power can corrupt, my little pony, and I would not see you end up like that.”

“I…” Twilight closed her mouth and hung her head. “Yes, Your Majesty. I’m so sorry.”

“There may come a time when you will be able to make decisions affecting others and pass judgement on ponies, but that night is a long way away. Even then, I expect you to make such decisions with morals and the law in mind. Even if ponies may seem to deserve it, you must not stoop to the abuse of your position to satisfy whatever sense of revenge or justice you may have. Do you understand me, Twilight?”

The filly nodded her head slowly. “Yes, Your Majesty. I won’t do it again.”

“Your heart may be in the right place, but it can be easy to slip without thinking about it. Mind yourself, my faithful student.” Nightmare Moon shifted from her previous stern, judgemental demeanour to the more relaxed, maternal composure Twilight so often saw in the alicorn during their lessons. “I suppose that we should find a punishment to suit your misconduct.” Twilight gave a solemn, subservient nod. “I am willing to hold off assigning you a punishment until after your scheduled playdate. I know how lonely you can get in the palace, and you do not need the consequences of your actions interfering in healthy social development. Perhaps, for the time being, it would be best to apologise to that filly and replace what you destroyed.”

Twilight nodded and shifted uneasily. Though her tutor had relaxed, now sipping on her wineglass lazily and staring out the window at the stars above, the filly still felt the sting of the scolding. It tarnished the lax atmosphere that now settled and she desperately wanted to wash it away with new conversation.

Following her teacher’s gaze into the heavens, Twilight looked at the stars and found herself remembering Miss Loch’s words that each star was an alicorn that had ascended and left this mortal world for the next plane of being. “Which ones are your family?” she asked, innocently.

Nightmare Moon looked as if the suddenness of the question was a slap to the face. She jolted and tore her gaze from the sky, planting wide, shocked eyes firmly on the little lavender unicorn. Twilight returned her confused frown with a sheepish grin. “Excuse me?” Nightmare said.

“Um… I asked which of those stars up there are your family?” Cowed by the Empress’s reaction, Twilight shrunk back a touch.

A few seconds went by until, all of a sudden, Nightmare Moon burst into light, dignified laughter. It was Twilight’s turn to be confused, forgetting her anxiety in favour of befuddlement.

“Oh, Twilight,” the alicorn said as her chuckles subsided. “The stars aren’t actually alicorns. They do not hang up there in the sky to watch over us. Is that what most ponies think nowanights?”

“But, then why are they so important? Why do ponies think they’re alicorns?” Twilight asked eagerly.

“The stars are tied to alicorns… well, not just alicorns; all Immortals, actually. Immortals are beings of immense power, and such power is drawn from both our mortal plane and the Supreme Plane. When they–”

“Wait! What’s the Supreme Plane?”

Nightmare Moon huffed. “Do you want me to tell you about the alicorns and the stars, or do you want to go into subjects that you will not be taught at the Academy for a few years yet? I am quite willing to teach you about both, but not all at once.”

“Oh,” Twilight blushed. “Uh, then can you please go on about the stars?”

“Certainly,” the Empress nodded. “Briefly, the Supreme plane is the metaphysical, spiritual realm that the physical, mortal realm overlays. It is the universal bedrock; a foundation of our world, if you will. Now, as Immortals draw energy from both the Supreme Plane and the mortal realm, they store it within themselves in vast quantities. When they ascend to the next plane of existence, into the afterlife, they must use up much of their energy to achieve this feat, and they shed their bodily form. The stars are giant spheres of energy, light and fire; the result of this release of power. If you will, they are the leftovers of the soul as it sheds its mortal layer, like a snake.”

“So when we refer to the stars, it’s like a… a metaphor for the alicorns?” the filly concluded.

Nightmare Moon bobbed her head lightly. “Precisely. They are more like tombstones, if you will, though the Immortals live still in the next world.” She turned to the window and pointed a silver-shod hoof at a small constellation in the middle of the sky. “Those stars are what is left of my family. My mother and father: Theia and Hyperion, and my grandparents: Erebus and Nyx – although I called my grandmother ‘Nana’,” the alicorn smiled nostalgically. “Nana Nyx. I used to love her visits when I was little; she was so sweet and wise in her old age. My grandfather used to tell me stories about the war with Cheimon, which were always fascinating.”

Twilight perked up, her ears twitching at the name. Cheimon… the alicorn Proud Song told me about. “What were the stories like? What did your grandfather say?”

The Empress tapped her chin with her hoof thoughtfully. “Well, he did tell me about how he fought what he liked to call ‘pseudo-Immortals’; creatures that Cheimon gave power in such quantities that they could hold their own against an alicorn. The war itself lasted for decades and stretched all over the world.”

“Did he ever talk about Cheimon? Did he fight him?” The little unicorn’s eyes were lit with rapt fascination. 

“Not much, no,” Nightmare Moon shook her head. “What I do know is that Cheimon was supposedly an adopted cousin of my grandfather’s and he probably fought him directly at one point but…” She snorted. “He never really talked about Cheimon, only his armies and the war. I guess the betrayal was too much for him.”

“Captain Proud Song worships him. He says he’s a good alicorn,” Twilight frowned. “If he’s so evil, why do ponies worship him?”

“Well, Twilight, Proud Song is entitled to his beliefs, just as anypony is, as long as it doesn't get in the way of his duty to the Empire. The thestral and other Cheimon-worshippers are just as productive and loyal as any other citizen. I do not judge them for their beliefs; after all, I do not know whether their god was truly as evil as evil can be, or simply misled, or very angry. Without knowing the entire situation, we can only guess. But it was a long time ago, and it matters little now,” Nightmare Moon shrugged indifferently.

“Do you know what happened to him? Is he dead?”

The Empress pointed to the moon. “According to my grandfather, the alicorns sealed him up there, in the moon, after they finally defeated him. He will never harm anypony again.”

Twilight nodded and stared at the shining face of the Bright Moon in cautious wonder. She could make out the dark markings in the shape of a horned pony on it. It didn’t seem real that there could be anypony up there, all alone. Could they stare down on the world from up in that celestial prison? Her eyes drifted over to Nightmare Moon’s familial constellation. “Did you have any brothers or sisters?” she asked.

The filly barely noticed the flinch her teacher gave. Closing her eyes, Nightmare Moon sighed. “No, no siblings… a cousin, but I don’t know which one was hers.”

Twilight kept on staring. The sky was filled with what was left of gods and rulers; the final testimony of the most powerful beings in history. She wondered how many there were, although counting the number of stars in the sky seemed a never-ending task. They’re all so old, she realised. Immortals could live forever, but it seemed that most of them preferred to leave this world for the numerous heavens. Why did they leave if they could stay on Earth forever? Twilight wondered. When she voiced her question to Nightmare Moon, the alicorn just smiled sadly.

“They didn’t have a choice,” she said, her voice surprisingly soft and subdued. “There was… something terrible that made them all leave. There are only around half a dozen of us left now; we managed to hide and wait out that terrible thing.”

Twilight’s eyes widened at this new revelation. “What… what was it, this thing?”

Nightmare shook her head. “That is not a story for a young filly, I’m afraid.”

Twilight nodded. Silence returned between them as they gazed at the stars together. Questions still bubbled in Twilight’s head; she desperately wanted to bombard Nightmare Moon with them to satisfy her unending curiosity, but seeing her teacher with lines of sadness etched across her face and nostalgia in her eyes, one question in particular slipped easily from her throat.

“Do you ever get lonely?” 

Twilight immediately regretted her words, expecting a quick rebuttal or a warning to mind her own business, but the Empress of Equestria turned to her slowly and looked at her with dragon-like eyes that – usually so piercing and powerful – were soft and tired. 

“A little.” She looked away for a brief moment and laughed, almost defensively. “I suppose, in my position and old age, I do not have many peers I can truly relate to.”

“You don’t act all that old,” Twilight said, eager to try and lift her Empress’s spirits.

“Thank you, Twilight,” Nightmare Moon smiled. “Though it is a little different for alicorns. I was still a foal when I was a hundred years old! Still, I have known many mortals who seemed to consider age as an inconvenient detail. Starswirl the Bearded was always eager to rush off into an adventure or come to the old palace in Everfree to visit, even when his bones creaked, and the Inquisitor still likes to play the dashing rogue.”

“How old is the Inquisitor?” Twilight asked suddenly.

Nightmare Moon pursed her lips. “Oh, I don’t quite recall… perhaps middle-aged, I suppose. He does have some grey coming in, I think. Well, into what wasn’t grey already. Why do you ask?”

“Oh it’s nothing,” the little unicorn tapped her hooves together. “It’s just a funny feeling I have. Nopony knows how old he is; Marshal Silverstar said once that when he was young, he still thought the Inquisitor looked quite old.”

Nightmare Moon shrugged. “Perhaps he just ages well, who knows? Perhaps he’s just embarrassed about his age. Some ponies are funny about that sort of thing. Why do you not just ask him? If you are polite enough, I am sure he won’t mind telling you. It matters not to me.”

Ignoring her teacher’s strange indifference, Twilight couldn’t stop turning over the mystery in her mind. The stallion acted so youthful sometimes, yet he also seemed to carry as much wisdom and weight of years on his shoulders as Nightmare Moon. Spending enough time around both, she could see the similarities, and there was this feeling she couldn’t shake. I’ll look into it later tonight.

============

Dear Orion,

It’s been a while since you last wrote to me. Is everything all right? I mean, it’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it through letters, but I’m available if you want somepony to talk to. You can talk to me, you know.

Anyway, it’s still good to hear from you. I can’t believe all that work Miss Loch’s making you do, and especially that you have to do it with Cobble. I mean, it’s nice that he’s turned out to be repenting and good and everything, but I still can’t wrap my head around my best friend and one of my former tormenters hanging out.

Why would you want to know about what happens at the palace? Politics are pretty boring. It’s just ponies arguing and arguing and never getting anywhere. Although tonight I actually managed to make a decision in court! Except it wasn’t my decision exactly, but the Empress took my advice and used it. It was amazing!

I’ll be starting classes at the Imperial Academy soon. I’m really looking forward to it, but I’m also kind of nervous. Is that weird? I can’t wait to see you though. I really miss you. Write to me soon.

Your friend,

Twilight

============

Fire crackled in hearth, shadows dancing on the walls as the tongues of flame flickered. The Inquisitor’s living room was warm, both in temperature and atmosphere. There were shelves and tables, most holding books or objets d’arte from foreign lands. But none of these were gaudy; they were just the right mix of quality and cost for the sophisticate the Inquisitor considered himself to be. The walls were the rich, sombre brown of exotic hardwood, and the air was musty with the scents of old paper and older dust, but not so much as to be stifling. In case the owner of the apartment ever had guests, the sofas, chairs and cushions arranged in front of the fireplace were of the highest quality money could buy.

The owner himself lay on one of the larger cushions, sinking comfortably into its silky embrace. The Inquisitor had at his side a glass of fine amontillado, and open in his hooves, a brand new book. Beathooven’s Ninth Symphony played on a gramophone in the corner. Everything was calm, collected and dignified.

Just about perfect, the Inquisitor thought blissfully. What he really needed was a deep-tissue massage, but failing that, a quiet glass of sherry would do nicely. In the privacy of his own home, away from unwanted attention, the Inquisitor had shed the Overwatch uniform in favour of the lack of dress customary to the average Equestrian citizen. While the ashen stallion certainly looked stylish and suave in his sharp black outfit, even he had to admit that it felt good to let the skin breathe every once in a while.

In the quiet laziness of the evening, he found himself looking nostalgically at his hip. His ‘Mark’ – as he preferred to call the symbols, rather than the sickeningly saccharine terms that had fallen into common usage over the years – was there, obscured by neither illusion nor garment. The unicorn remembered when it had appeared on his flank; he had showed all of his foalhood friends and their families. Everypony had been so proud of him that day. Almost everypony, he reminded himself. The Inquisitor snorted and shook his head, clearing the memory from his mind. Best not to dwell on that sort of thing right now.

Slipping a bookmark between the pages of Thus Spake Maelstrom – a philosophical text from Konnica that had generated quite the controversy among the Midderlander intelligentsia in its day – the Inquisitor set the tome aside and channelled his magic. The telltale dark aura of magic enveloped his horn and a small notebook flashed into existence, appearing in the air before the stallion. A sufficiently adept unicorn could make a pocket dimension without too much difficulty, and storing things within null-space was a very useful thing indeed. Taking hold of it, he slipped a quill from between its pages and, after taking a moment to collect his thoughts, began to write.

Coincidence is a wondrous thing. Just today, I received the report on the origins of the sonic rainboom that occurred over a month and a half ago. It was a low-priority assignment, and I never really expected much to come of it, but Starburst is truly a treasure. Slow though the report may have been in coming, I can in no way fault its thoroughness, and the nugget of pure gold is found only in the finest of details.

It takes a great deal of sheer power to create a sonic rainboom. Pegasus magic and extreme speed must work in tandem at very high levels.  Only a truly gifted individual combines these traits. With the report, I have a great deal of information on this individual: a remarkable seven-year-old filly named Rainbow Dash. She has been tagged as a possible asset for her impressive abilities, and I am keeping her profile open for expansion and review as she develops.

As I said, coincidence is a wonderful thing. And who should she be friends with but the griffon High King’s daughter? Not only can I conserve resources by keeping both under the same watchful eye as they grow together, but an inroad with the griffon girl makes this one doubly desirable. The Cloudsdale office hasn’t had a pegasus so impressive on their Persons of Interest watchlist in quite some time. Starburst indicates that Rainbow Dash’s personality, though rebellious, is impulsive and reckless when provoked. I know the type; she should be easy to guide using reverse psychology. Once she comes of age, I believe she will make a fine recru–

The sound of hammering at his front door tore the Inquisitor away from his train of thought. He frowned and snapped his journal shut. It vanished into null-space with a ‘pop’ and a flash of light.

“Hold on, I’ll be with you in a moment!” he called to the pony at the door. Despite the evening being well underway, the grey stallion was prepared for interruptions at any time. Holding more than one important position in the Equestrian government meant that his time was in high demand, and ponies would ask for him at the most dreadful of hours. Still, he though sourly, I don’t have to like it.

The Inquisitor sighed; irritation and resignation skipped hoof-in-hoof around in his head, laughing mockingly at the sudden break in his private harmony. He stood up, plucked the wineglass from the floor and walked to his bedroom.

Simple and comfortable, the room was occupied by a large, silk-covered bed with a small table on either side. Everything was neat. Not a single thing was out of place. Nothing lay on the carpet, which the Inquisitor kept meticulously clean and tidy whenever the opportunity arose. Bookcases took up two walls of the room, all arranged as neatly as a bookcase ever could be. They held many forbidden tomes the Overwatch had confiscated over the years, from books of black magic to manuscripts filled with seditious philosophies, and even the odd banned erotic novel starring Nightmare Moon herself (kept only for the excellent writing, of course!). All were neatly alphabetized and categorised. The Inquisitor nodded in silent approval. Organisation is the mark of an efficient mind.

He crossed over to a walk-in closet and flung open the doors. Like his room, everything in the closet was fastidiously arranged. While the Inquisitor would vehemently refuse the title of “neat freak”, he had to admit that it was all extraordinarily clean. A place for everything and everything in its place. It simply makes things easier to find, he justified.

Contrary to the beliefs of his peers, the Inquisitor was, like many Canterlotians, a clothes horse. A selection of boots ranging from soft, silent slippers to dressy court shoes to tough hiking boots were laid out at the bottom of the cupboards. There were other parts of the uniform, like the slacks and long cloaks and – his favourite of the ensemble – nehru vests with high band collars. All black, they gave off a certain air of mystery and menace that he found appealing. The uniform was dignified, intimidating and made him look as if he belonged in power. It was really as much part of his show of authority as speech filled with cunning wordplay or an expression designed to provoke just the right response from a pony.

Of course, he didn’t only have work clothes. Beside his personalised Commander’s uniform and the chancellor’s uniform, the Inquisitor had made sure to keep many different outfits with him over the years. He could appreciate fashion, but each piece of his wardrobe served a purpose. Image and presentation were all part of the game, really. He could change his expression to be frightening, dashing or meek – very rarely was he ever meek – but the effect was even more potent when he had the right clothes to go with it. If he needed to butter up a noble, he had the finest cloaks and jewels at hoof. If a business magnate needed impressing, the Inquisitor would wear what was possibly the most finely tailored suit that there had ever been.

But for now, he just needed something to cover up. Look relaxed and suave, he thought. No matter who comes through the door, they’ll appreciate that even the Lord Commander of the Imperial Overwatch and Chancellor of Her Majesty’s Government can be as dressed down as anypony. Makes me more equine. The Inquisitor whipped a tyrian purple dressing gown over his body and walked to the front door, fastening the robe as he went.

There was another series of knocks, noticeably harder and less patient than before, just as the Inquisitor approached the door. He opened it and arched a surprised eyebrow when he wasn’t met by anyone at all. A polite cough drew his attention downwards.

He broke out into a friendly grin. “Why, hello there, Little Spark.”

“Hello, Mister Inquisitor,” she replied. An obliging smile was on her face, but the stallion could see cracks of nervousness in the facade. “I was wondering if you had any spare time to talk. Just a little chat, I mean.”

Taken aback, the Inquisitor creased his brow in thought. Nopony ever really wanted to just chat to him, aside from Nightmare Moon and North Star. Likewise, he rarely if ever gave ponies the opportunity to just chat with him without ulterior motive. It always had a purpose, whether to manipulate or fool. ‘Chatting’ with most ponies was, for the Inquisitor, simply a polite tool.

But here was little Twilight, a small filly, wishing for a simple chat. Conversation, perhaps to learn and be taught. Was that what she wanted? For him to be a second teacher, an associate? A confidant? He looked straight into her eyes – she only shied away slightly. She certainly didn’t look like she had an agenda in mind. If her intentions were simply innocent, possibly just to expand her mind, then the Inquisitor was at a loss. He had never simply conversed with a child for fun before. The opportunity never came up and the idea never crossed his mind.

Yet it was an endearing prospect, somehow. It would certainly be a new experience, and the Inquisitor had been fascinated by Twilight Sparkle ever since he first saw the Flare at the Academy. Such raw power from a foal of only eight years old, and such a gifted mind to go along with it! He had never seen such a capable unicorn in all his years. Even then, to his shame, he had been a little intimidated. His knee-jerk reaction called back to his younger, brasher, and more hate-filled self when he proposed her execution. ‘If something seems a threat, kill it’, he recalled. In hindsight, that was definitely a foolish idea. Why destroy something that could prove useful? Besides, he smiled softly, look at how adorable she is.

“Um... Mister Inquisitor?” the purple pony began, waving her hoof to attract his attention. “Are you all right? Do you want me to leave?”

“No, no,” he shook his head. “If you want a talk, I’ll be more than happy to oblige. After all, the Empress gave me an order to accommodate you as best I can. Come in and sit by the fire with me.”

The filly’s eyes lit up, though he was certain his was not the only fire blazing on this unseasonably chilly September evening. She trotted inside, heading down the hall toward the welcoming yellow glow of the fireplace. The Inquisitor followed her, closing the door behind him.

They settled down by the hearth, easing into plump silk cushions. Twilight’s gaze drifted about the room with rapt interest. She took in everything, from the Inquisitor’s paintings and bookshelves to his furniture. The maiden voyage of casually interacting with a child was going swimmingly so far, he decided. The Inquisitor put his wine down next to him and, for a few minutes, an uneasy silence hung in the air. He had no idea how to talk to children and Twilight seemed too deep in a mix of anxiety and fascinating to begin the conversation. Eventually, it was the little lavender unicorn who spoke first.

“What are you reading?” she asked.

The Inquisitor looked down at his copy of Thus Spake Maelstrom. “This? Oh, it’s a book on philosophy. Probably a bit mature for you. Lion Trotsky’s ideas are somewhat... controversial.”

“Trotsky?” Twilight said, her ears twitched with recognition of the name. “My friend’s read some of his stuff.”

“Really? How old is he?”

“He’s twelve, but he’s really interested in philosophy. And adventure books,” she said.

The Inquisitor smiled. “Your friend sounds like a very well read young colt. Not many ponies can stomach Trotsky. And what do you like to read, Little Spark?”

Their conversation continued thus for a while. Each time she spoke, Twilight would reveal an interesting facet of her life or ask an honest question posed out of innocent inquisitiveness. The Inquisitor found it… refreshing. For once, there was no hidden goal or subtle barb. She never once hesitated to tell him about herself or worried that her questions might reveal her goals. He didn’t even feel the need to plan his sentences; why try to manipulate or verbally spar with a little filly bursting with nothing more sinister than curiosity? As they talked, the Lord Commander of the Imperial Overwatch felt his smile get a little bit more genuine.

“And then she put it back together perfectly! It was like she hadn’t just reversed Mistwind’s Principle of Contrary Stasis!” Twilight’s eyes shone with glee as she waved her hooves in the air. “Nightmare Moon is amazing. I don’t think I’ll ever be as good a magician as she is.”

The Inquisitor chuckled. Her retelling of an earlier lesson was delightfully animated. He had no idea that the Empress had made such an impression on the girl. Her loyalty was guaranteed as she grew to marehood – of that, he was sure. The grey unicorn briefly wondered what the extent of her influence in Equestria would be when the day came that she was elevated to Nightmare Moon’s lieutenant. Whatever the case, he would rather have her as an ally than a rival, that much was certain. She demonstrated such fierce intelligence that she could likely excel at any challenge she faced.

“I’m not so sure, Spark,” he said breezily. “You are very magically gifted, and if you apply yourself, I think you may even outdo Nightmare Moon in many areas of magic.”

Twilight looked shocked at this assertion. “But she’s an alicorn. She’s got the power of... of a god!”

“Well, there are many things she won’t be able to put her mind to,” he said. “Our Empress may be an alicorn, but she certainly isn’t a deity. Like all creatures, alicorns have their limits. Only a fully Enlightened alicorn can surpass those limits, and no alicorn has achieved that since Arche’s era. Nightmare Moon’s limitations are mental, and she has not found a way to rid herself of them.” The Inquisitor smiled at the filly, lowering his voice as if imparting some great secret. “She has had centuries upon centuries to earn her power and expertise. I’ve been at her side for a long time, and I know she doesn’t have the analytical mind to unravel, understand, and piece together the laws of magic and the possibilities of spells. You do. In this area, given enough study and training, you can excel beyond even the Empress.”

“Really?!” Twilight almost leapt up from her seat. The Inquisitor inclined his head with knowing grin. The filly beamed at the prospect, her expression glazing over in deep, bubbly thought. After a while, she looked up at the stallion with eager eyes. “Do you know any really good spells, Inquisitor?”

Scratching his neck, he cocked his head to the side. “Well... I do know one that you might like, if you haven’t seen it before.”

His horn glowed black and he tapped into his personal pocket dimension. It was so full of random objects that he had accumulated over the years, he had developed a seeker spell to sift through the mess in the infinite expanse and retrieve whatever item he had in mind. Need to clean this out at some point, the Inquisitor reminded himself. The more mass there was in his pocket dimension, the more energy he required to open it and move things in and out. Sustaining the dimension was only a minor burden for him, but he really had let it get too cluttered.

He selected an antique tome, a celebrated foal’s storybook, and retrieved it from null-space. It appeared before them in a flash and drew a quizzical look from Twilight. Her eyes demanded an explanation.

“It’s a pocket dimension, Twilight,” he said. “I create a private space underlying our own world and bind it to my person. With this link, I can open it up and put whatever I want in there. It’s an easy enough spell if you know how to do it; fairly common with the more adept of magic-users.”

“Can you teach it to me?” Twilight asked.

“Maybe later, but for now...” he levitated the book to her. “This is yours.”

Her ears perked right up and the wide smile of a foal at Hearth’s Warming Eve took its place on her face. The filly took the book with her magic, carefully touching its ancient cover with her hoof.

“Thank you so much!” she cried.

The Inquisitor waved a hoof dismissively and smirked. “Think nothing of it, Little Spark.”

This ‘spending time with Twilight’ idea is turning out better than I expected, he thought. Not only would he end up further in Nightmare Moon’s good graces for his kindness to the filly, but the Inquisitor felt actual, genuine contentment as he talked to her. Like his leisurely meetings with Nightmare Moon, his worries seemed to be much further from him and he could – to an extent – open himself up. It was really quite liberating.

All of a sudden, Twilight hung her head. Her ears folded back and her smile evaporated into a guilty grimace. Setting the book aside, she looked up at the Inquisitor, avoiding his eyes, and scuffed her hoof against the carpet in trepidation.

“What’s the matter?”

“Well, um... I kind of feel bad now,” she murmured. “I mean, you’ve been so nice to me and you even gave me a present, and I don’t know whether I should ask you, because it’s probably a little rude.”

“Ask me what, Twilight?” The Inquisitor rolled out his sweetest, softest smile. His interest was piqued now.

She hung her head lower. “I mean, I came to you in the first place because I was curious, but it’s personal and you might not like me prying into–”

“Go ahead and ask. I won’t get angry.”

She swallowed and looked up at him again, straightening her posture. “Well, I was looking through the archives earlier. Deep in the archives. And I’ve done some comparisons on several different sources and...” she swallowed again. “I know it’s probably not really my place, but I was just really curious and I checked some things and there were links and they didn’t really add up and–”

“What do you want to ask, Twilight?” the Inquisitor said. His patience was wavering, but his ingratiating smile remained.

“How old are you?”

The smile vanished and he furrowed his brow. “What?”

The filly shrank back and her ears flattened again. A flash of fear and guilt briefly played in her eyes. “I’ve seen some old cuttings and photographs and I’ve read some descriptions of the past chancellors. A lot of them have changed enough, but some of them keep on showing the same stallion over and over again.” Information spilled out of her like water from a floodgate. She got herself going and now she couldn’t stop, despite the growing intensity of the Inquisitor’s gaze. “Two-hundred and fifty IE, five hundred and seventy IE and seven hundred and twenty IE all describe the same nameless black-maned grey stallion. Even an engraving and drawing shows a stallion like that wearing something like you usually wear and I saw a photograph from fifty years ago and... and... and it had you in it. Dressed exactly the same and looking exactly the same. So I thought... I wondered if it was just some familial thing or illusion all the chancellors use or if it really was you in all those things.”

As she closed her mouth, her words gathered in the air like a plume of smoke. The Inquisitor’s face was unflinching and beyond stoic. Ulterior motive, the angry cynic inside of him hissed. Even in one so young. His eyes were cold and calculating, holding Twilight in an unwavering gaze. The filly had backed herself up as much as she could, fear widening her eyes. The Inquisitor leaned forward, a frigid, snakelike smile on his lips.

“Twilight,” he said at last. He prepared his magic but masked the black aura that gathered round his horn. “I’ll give you the same explanation I’ve given everypony who asked about that.”

Before she could respond, he shot forward. Magic clamped her and held her in place, covering her mouth to drown out any scream. The stallion tipped his horn and touched it to her forehead. As she squirmed against his spells, the Inquisitor forged a link and began to channel mind magic, casting a hex on her.

The spell was quite a piece of work, one that he was justifiably proud of. It was almost a living thing in its own right, carefully garbling the specifics of particular memories. A forgotten face here, an event divorced from its date there, and inconsistencies vanished like magic. And then there was the cherry on top, a compulsion of four simple words: don’t think about it.

Because some “it”s were just too sensitive to have brought to light.

Checking that the spell was firmly rooted in her mind, the Inquisitor broke the link and stepped back, watching the filly with a casual, yet nonetheless intense gaze. Twilight sat limp for a few minutes, her eyes closed, until she shuddered back to life, opening her lids and blinking in confusion. She flicked her eyes to the Inquisitor.

“Oh yes. That definitely makes sense,” she said, beaming innocently, her voice betraying a hint of confusion. It was likely she didn’t quite remember what they had just been talking about. The Inquisitor glanced at the grandfather clock in the corner.

“It’s getting late now.” He pointed to the clock. “It’s best you run along to bed before you get in trouble with the Empress.”

“Yes, I really should be getting to bed.”

She stood up, wobbling slightly, and frowned at the difficulty. Suffering from the disorienting after-effects of the spell, she continued to blink to clear out what must have been a strange, unknown feeling of light-headedness. The Inquisitor, gentlepony that he was, saw her to his front door.

“Don’t forget your book,” he smirked, floating the antique tome to her.

“Oh yes! Thank you for that.” The little lavender unicorn smiled and yawned, taking hold of the book before turning around and running off into the halls of the palace, calling back to the stallion as she went. “Good evening, Inquisitor!”

“Good evening, Twilight Sparkle,” he said as he closed the door.

Turning back to the living room, the Inquisitor threw himself down on his cushion, wasting no time in raising the amontillado to his lips and swigging it down. He couldn’t help but feel that he’d lost something precious, something that he had never considered needing before. Twilight Sparkle had offered some kind of a release; no worries or back-hoofed manoeuvring. It had only been him and her, conversing in a perfectly innocent and cordial manner. But even she seemed to have an agenda.

The Inquisitor shook his head. Stop being so paranoid. She’s a child, it’s no fault of hers if she’s just curious. There was nothing malevolent about her asking. He snorted, content with his rationalisation, and allowed himself a smirk. An incisive mind indeed. Thank the ancestors she’s still half-trained, or she might have been more trouble than even Luna was, he thought. That hadn’t been a pleasant episode for either of them.

> A Good Night
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chapter Eleven:

A Good Night


An eerie tune echoed through the labyrinthine halls of the Imperial Palace. Its haunting notes sent shivers up many a servant’s spine. Hearing it, ponies stepped to the side, the better to let the Inquisitor pass with plenty of space. It was like the drumbeat of an army on the warpath, but softer and far less comforting.  

The Lord Commander of the Imperial Overwatch whistled as he walked, the corner of his mouth quirked up with glee. The monotony of the past few weeks was to be broken at last and some well-deserved entertainment was to be had. With great anticipation, he trotted through the door to one of the smaller, more peripheral rooms of the palace.  

He was met by several familiar faces. The Duke of Canterlot maintained the dignified aloofness he favoured, offering only a polite nod to the new arrival. The young Hierophant was all smiles: devious, predatory smiles eager for the thrill of a heated argument. The Marshal, however, simply stared at him with a deep frown and hard eyes full of ire. His moustache twitched, as if even it was irritated by the grey stallion’s lateness.  

The small, stuffy room they had chosen crouched in one of the oldest sections of the sprawling castle; the furniture had probably been constructed centuries before, and the room itself was even more ancient. Years of secret plots and clandestine rendezvous had taken their toll on the furnishings, and the staff hadn't been overly meticulous about buffing out the occasional scratch or replacing a floorboard grooved by the passing of a door. The meeting room might not have seemed equal to the prestige of its occupants, but it sometimes seemed to the Inquisitor that the opulence of such rooms was inversely related to the importance of the deals made there.

A single table surrounded by cushions stood in the centre of the room, and the only other notable feature was the drinks cabinet the Inquisitor had installed when it became clear this would be the Inner Circle’s usual meeting place away from the watchful eyes of Nightmare Moon and the rest of the Privy Council.  

“Good night, everypony,” the Inquisitor said, smirking boyishly. “I hope I haven’t kept you waiting too long. Though at least you have fine drinks and good company.”  

His horn flared with magic and he tapped into his pocket dimension, pulling out four folders stuffed full of paper and documents. Giving one to each of his fellow councillors, he walked over to the drinks cabinet. “Tonight’s agenda is in those files. I am sure you’ll find it quite a read. I do have brunch in a little while, so I’d like this to go as smoothly as possible.”  

While his colleagues read, the Inquisitor retrieved a bottle of wine from the cabinet and poured himself a glass. He sat down with a pleasant smile on his face, though his eyes were cold and dark. His demeanour was casual, but the cool, calculating twinkle in his eyes as he watched the other three read through their files was that of a predator’s; staring silently with steepled hooves on the table.  

He waited patiently for them to read and digest, and there was a lot to digest. He felt somewhat proud of what he had written in their files; a work of many weeks’ effort. The project had, in the end, become quite the engaging hobby. If only they could appreciate the thought and research I put into it, the Inquisitor thought.  

After a significant length of time spent analysing the documents, Duke Blueblood lifted his eyes away from the text and frowned at the black-clad unicorn. “I was led to believe that we were going to be discussing a single act regarding the defence of our nation. This…” he sneered. “This is insanity.”  

My, my, I think Blueblood might actually be upset with a plan of mine. The Inquisitor held his pleasant smile and turned his impossibly dark eyes to the Prince of the Unicorns. “No, Your Grace, it is simply thoroughness. One act couldn’t possibly be enough, and if we are planning to debate acts for the protection of our Empire then we should make other plans to coincide with them as well. You can never be too prepared.”  

“Preparation is one thing. Single acts of Parliament are one thing. Both are small and allow room for correction; room for input. This program you have crafted contains more legislation, changes and operations than I’ve ever seen in one file!” the Duke shook his head indignantly. “I have known you to be confident to the point of arrogance, Inquisitor, but never have you been so brash as to think that you alone can dictate this government’s policies!”  

“To be fair, the contents of these files are only suggestions,” North Star interjected, her gaze briefly moving to the Inquisitor. He returned her gaze with the knowing wink of a co-conspirator.  

The noblepony snorted. “Whether these are suggestions or demands, it does not matter. It is clear our Chancellor’s intent is to try and force his will on the government. This madness would dictate our every decision for the forseeable future!” He frowned at the dark-eyed unicorn. “Do you fancy yourself an autocrat, Inquisitor?”  

“Tell me which proposals you have a problem with,” the Inquisitor said, pausing for a sip from his wineglass, “and I will be happy to discuss it with you.”  

“There are so many, I hardly know where to start.” Blueblood flipped through the folder. “For example, this bill grants powers to the Ministries of Defence and Security – the Marshal’s and your departments respectively, I might add – and the unprecedented budget increases that you propose are, quite frankly, an insult to every other branch of government. Not to mention that you want to saddle the Ministry of Culture with what I can only describe as a system of cultural warfare. But by far the most egregious, the most audacious, are the acts that seem to have no other purpose than to marginalise the power of the feudal provinces and take authority away from their rightful governors.”  

The Inquisitor nodded. “Yes, I can understand why you would have a problem with those, but you fail to see the big picture. I drew up this program and all these proposed bills and acts not to be implemented for simple petty power struggles, but to defend our great country. This package will give us the strength to resist griffon attack; increasing the powers of the Ministry of Defence and Ministry of Security are an obvious course of action to ensure our survival and to ward off the griffons. The ‘cultural warfare’, as you call it, will ensure our citizens are aware of the dangers we face and understand the need to be cautious regarding the griffons. My suggestions merely point the Ministry of Culture in the direction we need to take in order to prepare our country and ensure it has the strength and courage to survive. Hierophant North Star’s department will be given the powers in the package that will allow it to do its part. These reforms and policies are vital for the prosperity of our nation in these troubled times.”  

“Vital?!” Somehow, the Duke’s frown deepened. “How can cutting off the aristocracy from the military be vital? Abolishing the governing nobility’s right to recruit soldiers from their own lands? This… centralisation is outrageous! The feudal system is a foundation of the Empire, and for the central government to steal our armies is a betrayal of the highest order!”  

He shot a desperate look over to his usual partner in crime, Hierophant North Star. A short, silent conversation followed. A smirk, a grimace and a then wry look from the priestess to the Inquisitor turned the Duke’s hard stare back over to the grey stallion. Blueblood gave him a look that only rivals could give. It said, “You took her from me, you cur.” The Inquisitor responded with a grin that replied, “You had it coming, you overblown bastard.”  

At this, the sole earth pony in the room leaned forward. Marshal Silverstar pushed the fat cigar in his lips to the corner of his mouth to talk. “The system’s archaic. It’s been begging for reform for hundreds of years. I read the report too, Blueblood, and I am happy that the Inquisitor has finally come round to placing all military resources under the Empress’s direct command, where it belongs.” He chuckled and pointed to a paragraph in a document. “Heck, it even yanks the right for a baron or duke or whatever to refuse to join the war effort. I know that's never happened before ‘cause you sops are too scared to tell the Empress 'no', but it’s good to know you can’t go all ‘conscientious objector’ on us in the middle of a fight if you decide you’d rather trade with the enemy than risk losing a market.”  

“Besides,” North Star interjected, deciding the time was right to add her weight. She didn’t put much effort in controlling the glee in her voice. “You see the compensation, don’t you? A beautiful tax break for the nobles who trade in their private armies to the central government? I’m sure my friends in the aristocracy will relish the chance to stop throwing away bits on a pointless status symbol and get paid for the privilege!”  

Frustrated, the white unicorn glanced at the three other faces, each split-second moment of eye contact full of loathing and enmity. Away from the judging public, faced with no allies and a proposal that would destroy so much of his power, he had no need or desire to pretend aloofness or aristocratic ambivalence. The Inquisitor had to fight to keep from laughing out loud at Blueblood’s rapidly deteriorating mood.  

“It doesn’t matter how much they’ll like it! This is about the principle!” Blueblood said. “I will not see the power of the nobility ripped away in one fell swoop. I will not see your institutions claim that which is rightfully ours! We haven’t been to war in over one hundred years, and you want to prepare for one now? We have deterrence enough to make these preparations unneeded. Ours is the only ruler in this continent who is a god. The griffon Prophets vanished millennia ago.”  

“Your Grace, I thought you of all ponies would have remembered that the Stalliongrad Protocol prevents the Empress from participating directly in a conflict,” the Inquisitor spoke calmly, with a smile plastered on his lips. “We risk outright war with Konnica, Iburria and Veneighce – simultaneously – if Nightmare Moon takes the field, and even she can’t stand against their combined might. No, these preparations are of paramount importance. The acts will give Defence and Security enough power to put their hooves firmly in the ground and dig right in against these griffons. I’m sure you of all ponies will understand the importance of that. And let’s not forget how important the Ministry of Culture will orchestrate the war efforts at home.”  

North Star slipped in, eyeing a piece of text from her folder, her voice taunting. “Lands administered by the Way and citizens renting such lands shall be exempt from the quartering of soldiers – or agents,” she noted with a satisfied smirk toward the Inquisitor, “…and from being drafted into service should the need for such arise.”  

Somehow, the Inquisitor didn’t quite know how, Duke Blueblood managed to look even more appalled than he already did. “This is just self-service! Self-service for you and the Inquisitor!" He turned to Silverstar. “Surely you cannot support this? Our Chancellor wishes to dictate to us defence, administrative and trade policies and strip away our authority one-by-one until he has nopony but the Empress herself to question him!”  

The old earth pony took the cigar out of his mouth, pinching it in the crook of his hoof, and blew out a plume of smoke. Behind the wafting grey veil, he raised his eyebrow and his moustache twitched in what the Inquisitor recognised as Silverstar preparing to unleash a verbal assault.  

“Blueblood, you’ve been so stars-damned used to getting your way over the years, you forgot what it's like to have to back down. You try and block everything I put forward just because you think it’ll give common folks like me too much power. You’ve been building up and up, an’ seems like you’ve never faced a real threat to your power until now. I don’t know why the Inquisitor’s waited this long, but it seems to me that this package deal has more than enough punch to knock you clean off your pedestal and put all that power back in the hooves of the public. I can see why you’re so upset – you’re just not used to things going so badly for you.”  

The white unicorn's scowl grew so deep that his normally handsome face transformed into a twisted mask of rage. “This will never pass!” he snapped, standing up and slamming his hoof on the table. Silverstar must have really got to him this time, the Inquisitor thought. “I will not let it pass. The nobility make up the bulk of Parliament, and they take my word as law. I control Parliament, and I will use every tool at my disposal to prevent this from passing. I will appeal to the Empress herself and I will force her to stop this if I have to!”  

Silverstar calmly tapped his cigar into the ashtray before putting it back into his mouth. North Star was fixing a brooch on her dress, trying to make it straight again. The Inquisitor lazily studied the contents of the folder, checking for any possible grammatical errors. It was all very slow and deliberate. Meanwhile, the Prince of the Unicorns stewed and fumed like he never had before, and in a wonderful, unspoken act of spontaneous cohesion, the other three continued to ignore him for a little while longer.  

Finally, the Inquisitor spoke up. “Marshal, I’ve never asked, but now I’m curious. What kind of cigars are those?”

The Duke, aghast, stared at them all with the intensity of the Hisani sun as Silverstar replied. “They’re made in the Southern Isles. The Gallopfreyans probably set up that colony over there just for them, I’d bet.”

“And the minerals,” North Star added.  

“The minerals too,” the Marshal allowed.  

Easing out all his rage in a long, trembling sigh, Blueblood sat back down. “I… apologise for my outburst,” he said, attempting to reclaim the dignity he so often held. When the elder Blueblood showed humility to the rest of the Privy Council away from Nightmare Moon’s eyes, it was a special night indeed. “But I repeat that the majority of the Parliament, being nobles, will reject this program no matter how you frame it, and I will do everything in my power to make sure they do.”  

Oh, we’ll see about that, the Overwatch commander thought. While Parliament on the whole would more than likely quell the proposals without preparation, the Inquisitor was not a pony who failed to prepare. Many in Parliament already answered to him; commoners who found in his patronage a sure path to becoming a Member of Parliament and strategically-placed Blackcloaks that he managed to slip through the cracks of the system. North Star also had a strong grip on a slice of Parliament; much of that slice included the more religious nobles. The Inquisitor rubbed his chin with the back of his hoof. Even with North Star’s support, might that bunch need some more incentive to vote with me?  

Of course, the vast majority of the remaining common-blooded Parliamentarians fell into Silverstar’s camp, being mostly military officers. The Destriers, the Inquisitor recalled yesteryear’s nickname for the faction. They would absolutely love this bill, no doubt about it. Still, Blueblood was more right than the Inqusitor was willing to admit; he influenced a not-inconsiderable portion of Parliament, and then there were the neutral independents and smaller factions that comprised the remaining percentages. Many had been individually bribed, threatened, or charmed already, but Blueblood was not an opponent against whom such things could be expected to stick. For all the Inquisitor’s preparations, this matter would not be entirely decided until the votes were counted.  

“In any case, I’m eager to hear your full take on the proposals, Marshal,” he said.  

The old warhorse raised a sceptical eyebrow at the Inquisitor and chewed thoughtfully on his cigar. He cleared his throat and replied in the same business-like tone that he used in meetings where he wasn’t shouting or growling at one of the many ponies that could offend him.  

“It sounds like a reasonable response to the threat, and I don’t mind adding that it’d do this country a hell of a lot of good to start to take the reins back from the nobility.” He paused to sip at a snifter of whiskey before continuing, heedless of the scowling Blueblood. “But I want to have some say in this program before we present it to Parliament.”  

“But of course, Marshal. In fact, I think I’ll go one step further,” the Inquisitor said, as cool and casual as ever. He leaned towards the moustachioed stallion in an almost conspiratorial manner. “How would you like the cover to say ‘The Silverstar Plan’? You would make the ideal front-pony for the proposals. It is, after all, focused on the defence of our great nation and–” He shot Blueblood a mocking smirk. “–we all know your popularity with the ‘unwashed masses’.”  

The Marshal gave a rare smile at the idea. Now that’s something you don’t see every day, the Inquisitor thought as he saw a twinkle of selfishness in Silverstar’s eyes. The earth pony had long been in the stage of his career where he could do little but try and oil the machinery of government. The battles of his youth were long past him, and they hadn’t been too major when measured against the conflicts of Equestria’s long history. Silverstar, the Inquisitor knew, was as hungry for glory as he ever was; only now it would come in political victories rather than heroism on the battlefield.  

They all knew that attaching his name to the proposals would, if they passed, elevate him to new standing. The public would love him for containing the power of the aristocracy and providing the country with a solid defence against foreign menace. This would be the price for Silverstar’s cooperation, and it would be more than enough to confirm his support.  

The Marshal nodded sagely. “Well, I reckon that’s a reasonable idea. Parliament’s going to have to push this thing if we get the public behind it, and I don’t need to be modest about the public’s love for me.”  

The corner of his mouth lifting in a victorious smirk, the Inquisitor turned to Duke Blueblood. “It seems, Your Grace, the odds might be against you.”  

The Duke raised his head proudly – as if the barbs and worries of this meeting were now beneath him – and narrowed his eyes at his political rival. “I can also play this game, Inquisitor. I promise you that this program will never be passed. I shall fight it all the way.”  

“You do that,” the Inquisitor said, his smile twisting maliciously. It wouldn’t be quite so much fun if I destroyed you without some kind of resistance. “Does anypony have anything they would like to bring up that doesn’t have to do with the contents of these files?” Silence and shaking heads. “Good. In that case, I’d like to wrap this up. If anypony wants to discuss this with me on a more private basis, feel free to contact my secretary. Good night.”  

Slipping his file back into null-space, the grey stallion promptly rose to his hooves and wheeled around, heading back into the corridors of the palace. The Inquisitor stopped and pulled a pocket watch from within his jacket, briefly glancing at it. Plenty of time before brunch with Luna, he thought. He looked at a nearby mirror and, unable to resist the juvenile temptation, gave his reflection a wink.  

Then he was off again, whistling the same simple, eerie tune as before, a mild smile hanging loose on his lips. Tonight is going to be a good night.  

============  

“Tonight is going to be a good night!” Twilight beamed as she trotted down the pavement, tail swishing happily behind her.  

Her escort, Proud Song, simply hummed in absent-minded affirmation as they walked. With the large, bat-winged Honour Guard behind her, traffic on the path parted like curtains before Twilight . Nopony wanted to be in her way while the thestral marched behind her like warped, disproportionate shadow.  

With her saddlebag full of stationary and workbooks the little filly was eager to make the best of her new school. Her coat had been fussed over by royal beauticians; Nightmare Moon had insisted on that despite her protests. She wore a uniform – something she was entirely unused to – that consisted of a blouse under a brown sweater-vest and a tie of the same colour. Not usually one to wear clothes, the extra layer of wool and cotton felt a bit restrictive and the silk tie was ever moreso. Despite the alien feeling of her school uniform, Twilight did appreciate how neat and tidy it made her look.

Twilight was confident that her first night of school would be spectacular. Her old school near the orphanage had been filled with foals who couldn’t care less about education. The attitude was detestable to her; the memory of all those lazy, unmotivated foals still made her angry. Some had even openly ganged up on anypony that showed any sign of eagerness or intellectual prowess. 

But this time will be different, she thought, nodding her head in private affirmation. The Imperial Academy for Gifted Unicorns was synonymous with advanced education. Everypony would doubtless be just as keen as she was to learn. Finally she could find others like her, with no petty circles or cliques to worry about. The Imperial Academy, she thought, is above foalish gossip and popularity contests. It’s the most respected school in the Empire, for Arche’s sake! A wide smile fixed in place, she eagerly trotted towards her new school.  

The Academy was the newest addition to the palace compound, built a mere two hundred years before. It was a separate cluster of structures within the palace grounds rather than a wing of the main building. Twilight wanted her first night of school to be special. She wanted to be greeted by the wonderment of a courtyard full of students eager to learn as she walked through the main entrance, rather than anticlimactically slipping in through a side-entrance from the palace gardens. As a result, the filly had to take the long way; first heading out of the palace into uptown Canterlot, then around and back in through the more public main gate. When she reached her destination, Twilight felt that the spectacle was worth the extra effort.  

Carriages continually arrived and departed from the main entrance, dropping off students. From ponies her age to high-schoolers on the cusp of graduating poured through the vast wrought-iron gates, above which stood a high stone archway engraved with the school motto, ‘Concordia cum veritate’ – 'In harmony with the truth'. Proud Song cut a path through the streaming crowd and Twilight pressed on with wide, bedazzled eyes.  

It was the first time she had seen the Academy with classes in full swing. Now it was alive, and she was a part of its life. Ponies were everywhere, from foals as young as she was, excitedly chatting and giggling amongst themselves, to nearly-grown teenagers milling about in their circles of friends as they caught up after a season spent at home. 

The gates opened onto a sweeping plaza with a colossal fountain in the centre. The fountain itself was a spectacular sight. Even though the filly had seen it months before on the way to her entry exam, it was impossible not to feel awe in its shadow. The basin was huge – Twilight imagined a dragon curled into a ball could fit comfortably within its circumference – and in the middle stood a large two-tiered pedestal. Crowning the centrepiece was a tapering column that supported the bronze likeness of Starswirl the Bearded. He stood proudly, puffing out his chest and turning his eyes toward the heavens.  

Other statues had been built on three rectangle platforms that jutted out from the main pedestal, depicting some of the greatest magic-users ever to grace Equestria. Lord Millamber stood as if in the middle of casting a spell, his great cloak billowing out in frozen waves and his hood blown back to reveal his maneless head. Weathersky the Farmer, the most powerful earth pony magician in history, was lying down, calmly studying a bronze flower. On the third spoke was the likeness of Red August of the Mask, his hood and cloak covering everything but the famous mask which stared impassively down on the river of students. Palace legend, as related to Twilight in Proud Song’s rumbling tones, held that the statue wore the actual mask of Red August, and if the bronze plating were scraped away and the mask removed, one could behold the sculptured image of his hideously scarred face… and then go mad.

Benches ringed the fountain, although few students sat on them in light of the pressing need to get to lessons. At the edge of the plaza, the school’s massive buildings towered over the ponies below. The main building was opposite the entrance and featured many wide steps leading up to the massive front doors that were currently open for all the students. As Twilight knew it, though, that was not her destination. The preparatory school – for foals from her age up to thirteen – was located on a separate part of the Academy grounds  

“I will be all right from here, Mister Song,” she said, turning to her escort. “Thank you for walking with me.”  

“Nothing to it, Lady Twilight.”  

The thestral saluted and wheeled around, launching himself into the air. Twilight turned to watch him fly away. Out of the corner of her eye, a particularly garish train of carriages drew her attention. 

Not unlike the royal carriage that she had ridden in when she left the orphanage shone with glossy varnish and polished precious metals. All were examples of expert craftsmanship, with engravings that could rival those in the Great Chantry. Enormous crests emblazoned on the doors clearly indicated which noble house each one belonged to.  

The doors opened in eerie unison and half a dozen foals stepped out. They must have decided to arrive together, Twilight guessed. They assembled in a group, then began cutting through the crowd almost as effectively as Proud Song had with a very familiar white unicorn foal in the lead. What’s he doing here? Surely he didn’t actually pass the entrance exam!  

Blueblood the Tenth smiled proudly as he strutted forward, surrounded by his noble- blooded friends. It looked as though special care had been afforded to the handsome colt’s appearance for the first night of school. His mane was as perfect as ever, but his whole coat positively shone as he walked, and his school uniform had to have been tailored to fit perfectly. He looked her way and, for a brief moment, they held eye-contact. Twilight immediately turned around and began walking.  

It only took a few moments before she heard his gratingly sophisticated voice call out to her.  

“Why hello there, Miss Sparkle!”  

Against her better judgement, the filly stopped and turned around again, forcing a smile. “Hello, Prince Blueblood. I didn’t know you went to the Academy.”  

“Oh, but of course! As if a little tutoring couldn’t overcome a mere exam. Every Blueblood has attended here since the school was founded; they’ve been waiting for me and my friends since we were born, thanks to our families’ generous contributions to the school.” In what was likely an entirely unconscious effort, the group’s heads rose together in aristocratic pride.  

“Well… I guess that’s fair enough. I have to be heading to classes now, though, and I don’t want to be–”  

“Oh, don’t worry about that!” he interrupted, stepping forward. His smile and overly- friendly tone set off alarm bells in Twilight’s head. Did he really hold no bitterness towards her for Orion's visit? “We will escort you there, won’t we?” The group nodded in response. “After all, we would hate for the Empress’s personal student to be tardy on her first night of school at the prestigious Imperial Academy.”  

On this cue, the group surrounded her and pushed forward, forcing her to walk along with them. Blueblood stood uncomfortably close to her. Despite their odd behaviour, they seemed friendly. Perhaps they really did want to help her, but they were just going about it in a strange way? Twilight reminded herself to look up the intricacies of Equestrian chivalry when she got back to the palace.  

“Thank you, I guess… I hope you aren’t still mad at me for what happened back at the willow groves.”  

His friends shot him confused, questioning looks, which Blueblood shrugged off. “Think nothing of it, Miss Sparkle. A misunderstanding, that’s all, and I can forgive misunderstandings.”  

They entered a building filled with schoolfoals in the same uniform as her and Blueblood’s group. They meandered through varnished wooden halls that reeked of history. Twilight wondered if the high school was just as grand as this place was. Sophistication and venerability were almost tangible in the air; the place instantly came to define intelligence and studiousness to the little unicorn.  

“Speaking of forgiveness,” Blueblood’s voice tore her away from admiring the scenery. “Opulence here was telling me of how Her Majesty brought you to apologise to her sister after some sort of incident. I do so hope little Grace forgave you.”  

At the prince’s gesture, Twilight turned and found an iris-coated filly looking down at her with a stiffly impassive face – such a stark contrast to the more mild expressions of the rest of the group. Her goldenrod eyes gave off a small, contained measure of disdain. Twilight remembered her apology to Grace. It hadn’t gone down as well as she hoped; Grace seemed only to offer a listless muttering of forgiveness upon the prompting of her father. Even after Twilight gave up all of her allowance (and many allowances to come) in order to buy the filly a new tiara, Grace had looked at her with eyes that held the steely, cold glint of an eternal grudge. It was very similar to how Opulence now looked at her. She returned Opulence’s stare with a nervous smile and hastily turned away.  

“Grace is in your year, I believe,” Blueblood continued, very smoothly. “I’m sure she can tell everypony what a nice little filly you are.”  

“Uh… yeah.”  

They rounded a corner in the hallway and stopped abruptly. Blueblood gave a theatrical look of bewilderment that was obviously disingenuous even to Twilight’s youthfully naïve eyes. The white unicorn turned to her, not bothering to hide the delighted grin he had on his lips.  

“Oh dear, I seem to have forgotten that this isn’t where your year’s classes are supposed to be,” he said. Their ears pricked as the bell rang. “I think you might be late after all.”  

Twilight just stood there, eyes wide and mouth gaping. She stared at the smug, self-assured colt in front of her as anger rose up in her, ready to boil over. Of all the indecencies! Blueblood, it seemed, was as petty as they could come, and she wondered just how many more of these tricks and acts of revenge would he play before he would be satisfied.  

Twilight gritted her teeth against her outrage. While she would have loved to berate and threaten him into submission, she really did not want to be too late to lessons. She gave Blueblood one last baleful look, trying her best to stab him with her glare, before growling and whirling around. She darted down the hallways, weaving through the crowds. Hopefully, she thought, my teacher won’t be too harsh. I mean, it’s only the first night of school.  

============  

After a brief pause to ask for directions, Twilight found her classroom virtually on the other side of the building. She skidded to a halt in front of a door, doing her best to catch her breath, and opened it carefully. The filly poked her head inside to check whether it was definitely her classroom. The first thing she saw was a large unicorn standing at the board.  

He stared at her with hawkish intensity; his eyes were a deep billiard-table green. His coat looked as if he had been dipped head-to-hoof in dark, rich wine, and his short mane the colour of umber. As Twilight expected of scholarly teachers, the stallion wore a grey tweed jacket over a green jumper, capping off the entire ensemble with a red bow-tie.  

“You are late, girl,” he said. His voice was sophisticated and baritone and he spoke with a hint of condescending superiority.  

“I… I’m sorry, I–”  

“What is your name?”  

“Twilight Sparkle.”  

He nodded. “Repeat after me, Miss Sparkle: ‘I apologise profusely for my inexcusable tardiness’.”  

The little filly hesitated for just a moment, confused. “I apologise profusely for my inexcusable tardiness.”  

“And I shall circumvent the impossible and find it in my heart to excuse it,” the stallion said, raising his eyebrow. “You may call me Doctor Ash – or ‘sir’, as is preferable. Take a seat.”  

Looking around, Twilight spotted an empty desk and scurried over. Whereas the palace’s seating consisted almost entirely of luxury furniture and plush cushions, a simple stool stood in front of her desk. Taking her seat, the filly unpacked her books, quills and inkwell in a fevered hurry. 

“Now that we are all here, I think we can begin,” the stallion said. “Being the greatest mind and most capable magic-user in Equestria, I have been dragged down from my position at the university by the personal command of Her Majesty, Empress Nightmare Moon to teach you all. Now that you are at this school, I – and my colleagues, I should hope – expect nothing less than perfection from all of you. From the preparatory school straight through to university, this academy boasts the highest quality of education in the world, and you will be expected to work at a level that is worthy of that reputation. In my class, anypony who is incapable of taking it upon themselves to actually learn the material and dive into the subject does not belong here.”  

Doctor Ash faced the board and a piece of chalk floated in the air. The white stick scratched across the black surface of the board, leaving swirling, elaborate letters in its wake. When the stallion turned back to the class, the words “Thaumaturgy” now underlined behind him.  

“Unless you have managed to slip into this academy under our noses from some simpleton school, you all will doubtlessly know this is the technical term for magic. What the laypony crudely understands as ‘marvel-working’ is both an art and a science. It can be understood, studied and quantified, but like any art, it has its whimsy and may be expressed in almost unlimited forms.”  

He paused, scanning the class with a lazy casualness that bordered on ambivalence. His brow seemed almost permanently raised in a casual show of self-importance. “Now then,” he continued, somewhat more boisterously. “As I said, magic is a science. It is the projection of one’s will through the use of an extra-sensory power onto the world around you. It is the science of power. Under my tuition, you will study the theory behind magic, its components and branches, and its effects on the universe. Can anyone tell me what the four major known categories of pony magic are?”  

A yellow-haired filly stuck a blue hoof into the air. Twilight recognised her as the noblepony she had bullied, Grace. 

“It’s a trick question,” the filly announced, lifting her head in pride at seeing through the ruse. “There are only three categories of pony magic: earth pony magic, pegasus magic and unicorn magic.”  

Doctor Ash gave her a contemptuous look. “What is your name, girl?”  

“Grace, of House Merryweather.”

“Would anyone tell Miss Merryweather why she is so hideously wrong?” he asked. Nopony put their hoofs up. “Well, I guess I have been saddled with a class full of feckless wastrels. How disappointing.”  

Timidly, Twilight lifted a hoof into the air. Green eyes fell upon her and he nodded. “Yes, Miss Sparkle?”  

“The fourth is Immortal magic, though it's not limited to ponies. Immortals of any species can use it, and it encompasses all types of magic, even non-pony spells.”  

“Very good, Miss Sparkle,” Ash said. “It seems, for the moment, that you are the least feckless wastrel in this class.”  

Uh, thanks? Twilight gave a sheepish smile, assuming that it was in fact a compliment. In the corner of her eye, she saw Grace shoot her a glare filled with loathing. I guess now I know for sure that she didn’t accept my apology. Twilight shrunk down in her seat slightly, her smile wavering.  

“Excuse me, sir?”

Twilight turned to see a blue unicorn colt at the back of the class scowling with his hoof in the air. His mane was an unruly ice blue mess on top of his head while the rest of him was and similar in colour to his eyes.

“Yes, what is it, Mister…?”

“Blueshift; and what you said is wrong because you specifically asked for pony magic while Immortal magic, as the name suggests, is available to Immortals of any species, not just alicorns. So it’s not really a pony magic.”

Ash snorted. “Just semantics, Mister Blueshift. Pony magic includes Immortal magic because it is, nowanights, used by an alicorn – a pony Immortal. The point remains that Miss Merryweather was wrong. Don’t be a smartarse.”

The comment caught the whole class off-guard How could he say something like that to a student? Twilight thought, incredulous. The teacher carried on nonchalantly, paying no heed to his offended pupils.  Blueshift was especially miffed, grumbling to his neighbours.

As the class went on, the other students seemed to recall more and more of their previous studies, and soon Twilight wasn’t the only one with correct answers. The purple filly, however, soon found herself wanting. The lesson, it seemed, was mostly geared to jogging everypony’s memories and starting them off on the right track; there was very little that was challenging about it, besides the odd difficult question Ash fired off that the study material hadn’t covered. She stared down at her notebook. I have all this written down already!  

Doctor Ash continued in his peculiarly abrasive teaching style, often skirting close to what some might consider verbal abuse. But despite his cynicism, bluntness and declarations of intellectual superiority over every other faculty member in the school, he seemed to gladly throw himself into the lesson. Twilight even saw a smile tug at the edges of his mouth as he injected sneering witticisms and cutting jokes into his teaching. His voice began to take on a sing-song, narrative tone as he explained the concepts behind the different magics. Twilight began to wonder if he had missed his calling. Perhaps he should give up teaching and go into radio, she thought.  

But with the class feeling like a needless relearning of topics everypony had already studied, Twilight eventually stopped taking notes and drifted off into her own thoughts. She flicked lazily through the textbook, searching for a random topic in later chapters that was newer and more exciting than revision. She had avoided notice for some time until Doctor Ash yelled a question at her.

“Miss Sparkle, can you tell me what the Principle of the Three Planes is and its significance to thaumaturgical theory?”

Twilight snapped her gaze from the book to her teacher, who looked at her impassively. She gulped, taken off-guard. “I… um… that isn’t in the syllabus!”

“Exactly, but as you weren’t paying attention you must obviously know everything I have to say, so obviously you will be able to answer this question,” he droned sarcastically, a cruel smile coming to life on his face. “So?”

All eyes on her, Twilight began to sweat. She forced her beating heart to calm and closed her eyes, trying to recall all that she learned from her books and Nightmare Moon’s lessons. Finally, she looked back up, staring straight at Doctor Ash.

“The Theory of the Supreme Plane is the theory that magic ultimately originated from one perfect, metaphysical reality called the Supreme Plane that acts as foundational bedrock of our universe,” she began. The wine-red stallion flinched in surprise at her answer, but Twilight wasn’t done yet. “Magic is said to have ‘leaked’ from this reality into the Mortal Plane, where it fused with the environment and the creatures in it. Some ponies were able to use the magic to become wise and powerful enough to follow the magic back to its origin and permanently link themselves to the Supreme Plane. They became the first Immortals.”

Doctor Ash blinked and, for a brief moment, his eyes held something other semi-disdainful regard for his young student. He recovered quickly, and the intellectual snobbery returned. He turned to the rest of the class and gestured to Twilight. “There we have it, children. Our new class Superstar,” he said in a manner that, from the small upward hitch in the edge of his sneer, Twilight guessed to be only partially mocking. “Take heed of her and know that in the kingdom of the witless, the half-wit is king. Also do remember that, as the only one with true wit, I am the god of this little kingdom of ours. Now, please pay attention…”

Twilight grinned at her little victory, but soon noticed that many of the foals were still looking at her. Their looks were not friendly, especially Grace’s, who glared at her with newfound ire. Twilight’s grin fell and she sank shyly into her chair.

The ringing bell signalled the end of the lesson and the beginning of break, and Ash swept the foals out of his classroom, commanding them to revisit the material or face “wrath, pain and poor grades”. Twilight tucked herself into a quiet corner beside a stairwell to read, but she had barely opened Starswirl and Clover: The Genesis of Modern Magic when another filly slid in next to her. Twilight suppressed a groan when she saw the yellow mane and perfectly groomed blue coat.  

“Twilight Sparkle,” Grace said. Her tone was as domineering as any eight-year-old filly could make it, and Twilight found it utterly childish.  

“What do you want, Grace?” she asked sullenly.  

“I just want you to know that, even though I was forced to say it by my father in front of the Empress, I don’t forgive you.” With a flick of her head, she tossed her braid over her shoulder. “You’re a rude, insufferable nopony who thinks just because she has the Empress’s attention now, she is safe. Well, I can tell you that when Nightmare Moon’s favour passes, I’ll be there to make sure you get what’s coming to you.”  

Twilight scowled and prepared a retort, but the words died without being said. What’s the point? she thought. I can’t just bicker with her and I can’t punish her myself – I promised Nightmare Moon I wouldn’t abuse my position again. She closed her eyes as her mind ran the scenario of such a thing. Twilight couldn’t face the possibility of Nightmare Moon ever being angry enough with her to stop her tutelage. She couldn't go back to the orphanage now. Even if that doesn’t happen, she thought, I made a promise to Nightmare Moon. I can’t break her trust. I can’t let her down.  

“If you don’t like me, just leave me alone,” she muttered, fixing her eyes forward. Despite her determination to try and remain unfazed, her head drooped down a touch.  

Grace flashed a wicked grin at Twilight's passive reaction. "Don't worry, Twilight Sparkle. I won't bother you. In fact, I don't think you'll be bothered by anypony at all..."

Confused, Twilight turned to ask the noblepony what she meant, but Grace had already slipped away. The filly huffed, shaking her head, and opened her book again. I won’t let her get to me… I won’t.  

Twilight grinned as she looked at her timetable. Though she loved all aspects of learning, there were some subjects that held a special place in her heart, and the rest of her day was composed of classes dedicated to her passions. History was one of them, just lagging behind astronomy and the study of magic, but as far as first impressions went, her history class seemed set up to be a disappointment. The teacher appeared unremarkable – a bespectacled, bow-tied stallion with a dull brown coat overlaying a wiry, thin frame. His name was equally unremarkable: ‘Russet Brown’. He was quiet and demure as the foals began to settle in, anxiously adjusting his bow-tie every so often. He explained to the class how this was his first time teaching and many of the children grinned. New teachers were easy to dupe. Twilight stifled a groan, fully expecting her historical education for this year to suffer for this teacher’s inexperience and nervousness. 

But then he began to teach. His dull brown eyes hidden behind the comically large glasses burned with a sudden intensity as he dove into his lecture. He captivated his class almost instantly. Speaking in a hushed, excited voice, it was as if he read from a story book. The filly was entranced by his retelling of the Macintosh Rebellion and the rise of the modern parliament. Even when the teacher deviated from the main material, going down a historical tangent with academic fervour that surpassed even Twilight’s interest of history, she felt so drawn in that, much to her regret, the minutes ticked away like seconds. Before she knew it, her next lesson was due.  

When Twilight reached her maths class, she was greeted by what she first thought was a madly grinning cow. It turned out to be an earth pony mare with a pinto coat of black and white, and a frizzy mane of monochrome stripes. The mare was standing in front of a board on which enormous letters were scrawled to spell ‘Ms P’.

“Heya, kids!” she hollered. “My name is Miss Feather Pillow, but I absolutely insist that you all call me Miss P! I’m going to be teaching you the groovy world of mathematics. I know what you’re thinking: ‘Ugh, math, such a bogus subject’. But it’s totally not! As long as I’m here to spice things up, it’s gonna be a blast!”

The class stared at the mare with a mix of confusion, amusement and dread. It was barely minutes into the class that ‘Miss P’ dived headlong into the curriculum with reckless abandon. She wrote on the board so fast Twilight was surprised it hadn’t caused a fire from the friction. She breezed through complex calculations (that weren’t even part of their curriculum at times) with a bizarre commentary and she made such an overt effort at trying to connect to her young class by constantly attempting wacky humour and using an incredible mix of youth slang from the past couple of decades. 

It quickly became apparent that the class was more annoying than interesting. Her classmates trudged through the lesson without enthusiasm – all bored out of their skulls – while their teacher continued to act as if she had a cocktail of caffeine, sugar and various illegal substances injected into her, blissfully unaware of her students’ boredom.

Twilight tried to ignore her teacher’s hyperactive insanity and her fellow classmates’ passionless indifference and immerse herself in her learning. The little filly was, if anything, a mathematical prodigy. The relatively simple beginners’ material of the first school night of the year was nothing to her, even though many of the other foals pushed through the equations with some difficulty. She was very soon finished with the numerous problems and practice questions Miss P had set, a proud smile coming to her lips at being the first pupil to complete the tasks.  

Between this and her propensity to launch her hoof eagerly into the air and deliver a correct answer whenever the teacher asked a question, Twilight found that she hadn’t endeared herself to the other foals. The number of students – seemingly directed by the grudging Grace – glowering at her as teachers congratulated her grew with each lesson. The little unicorn was determined to push the foals’ behaviour out of her thoughts, but she could hear words like “nerd”, “suck-up” and “weirdo” in the fragments of their whisperings. 

The bell sounded the start of their lunch break, and it couldn’t have come soon enough. Twilight’s stomach growled as she packed her bag and dashed off to the lunch hall. She trotted through the throng of foals as quickly as she was able, hoping to avoid getting stuck in a queue. Unfortunately, Twilight arrived in the dining room to find it already rapidly filling up. The food line was already wrapped halfway around the enormous cafeteria. She groaned and sullenly took her place at the end, grabbing a tray.  

The serving mare looked down at her with an expression that, while not radiating boredom or frustration, was nonetheless detached and business-like. Without even the slightest smile, the apron-wearing mare dropped a pile of asparagus spears onto the plate beside a scoop of potato casserole and pushed it back toward Twilight as she levitated the next student's plate. Twilight turned away just as efficiently and drifted away into the vast sea of colts and fillies that filled the vaulted room. 

The air was full of the humming din of chattering foals, most already packed in with their chosen groups. Twilight had been accepted into the Academy’s second year, and the majority of her classmates already had their circles of friends.  Most tables were crammed with foals, leaving her with very few options. She walked meekly up to a table that had one space left. Foals enjoying their lunch turned to her as she approached, regarding her with careful curiosity and suspicion.  

“Do you mind if I sit here?” she asked.  

The foals looked at each other as if engaged in a silent conversation. One of them whispered to another, who stared at Twilight warily. His eyes fell onto the empty space and then back to the lavender filly several times. Finally, he forced a crooked smile.  

“Uh, sorry, this is actually saved for one of our friends,” he said. “Hope you don’t mind.”  

Twilight’s ears folded back at the rejection. She nodded solemnly and walked away. Behind her, she could hear them talking, thinking themselves out of her earshot.  

“Whoa, can you believe she wanted to sit down next to us?” one said.  

“I was kinda expecting her to start ordering us to make room,” added another.  

“No, I heard she’s more subtle that that. Like she uses some kind of dark magic the Empress taught her to manipulate ponies' minds,” one of the foals interjected.  

"I heard that the Empress tossed a colt in prison because he thought she was a servant and told her to fix a broken table!"

Twilight heard no more beyond that. She trotted away faster, gritting her teeth to prevent herself from losing composure. Where did they hear all that? she wondered, then angrily shrugged it off. Whatever. I’m sure they’re just ignorant. They were probably really mean anyway.  

But as Twilight stopped off at more tables, the same drama played out. She would be rejected, or excuses were made up. She started to see it in their eyes too. Like the foals at the palace, their expressions reflected fear, hatred and distrust. The noble foals, bedecked in opulence and finery, turned her away with mock politeness or stared at her with scowling, disapproving eyes as they refused her. Twilight quickly caught the careless whispers of other foals. There were rumours accusing of her being as haughty as any noble, a secret dark enchantress ready to manipulate any ‘friends’ she might gain, or a cruel bully of a filly, unstoppable thanks to her connections to the Empress. But, from what Twilight could gather, the school rumour mill mostly named her a strange loner that was best avoided, lest they incur the wrath of Nightmare Moon through one inevitable mistake or another.  

In the end, Twilight was forced to wait until a table of foals finished their lunch and left before taking her place. She sat alone on the empty table, eating her lunch quietly. Is this it? she thought. Is this her revenge, telling everypony to avoid me? I knew the noble foals wouldn’t ever give me the time of night, but… what about the others? The filly looked back to a table that she tried to join. The foals were still there, laughing and chatting excitedly. They had shunned her for her eagerness, but wasn’t that prized in a place like the Imperial Academy?  

It seemed now that her assumption that everypony wouldn’t care about popularity or gossip was wrong. Rumour, popularity and narrow-mindedness gripped this school just like any other, and now – for one reason or another – she was just one more freak in the eyes of her fellow students.  

She frowned down into her casserole. In the back of her mind, a bitter part of herself stirred. So what? It doesn’t matter what they think of me. I’m not here for them. I’m here for learning. I’m here to study and be the best I can be. I’m here for me. Twilight closed her eyes and nodded to herself. I’m not here to socialise or make friends. They’d just get in the way of my studies anyway. It’s not like I needed many friends back at the orphanage, and between studying and Nightmare Moon and everypony else back at the palace, I won’t need any over here.  

She left lunch quickly after that, trotting down the hallway, no longer paying heed to the fabulous academic venerability of the building. Twilight reached into her saddlebag and pulled out her timetable. A quick glance told her that her next lesson was a double period of “Practical Magic Application” out on the sports fields. She made for the fields at a canter, her spirits lifted at the promising subject.

The fields were about as large as they could be in an urban school located on a mountain. However, there had been enough space between the actual city and the palace district to provide parks and fields that were really quite spacious. It was in one of these fields that Twilight found a dark grey stallion checking over a pile of equipment.
 
The stallion looked as beefy as a buffalo, with a mane that reminded Twilight of burnt orange peels shaved down into a butch cut. He was taller than most stallions, though still not reaching Nightmare Moon’s height. Hearing the little filly trotting towards him, the giant turned to her with a pair of stern, steely green eyes.  

“What are you doing here, little filly?” he asked, his voice thick with the accent of a native Konnican.  

“I’m waiting for the lesson to begin!” Twilight replied, smiling up at him.  

The stallion mulled her words over before briskly nodding. “Just stay clear of me while I am working.” With that said he turned back around and resumed his task.  

Twilight just shrugged and sat down nearby, pulling Starswirl and Clover from her saddlebag. Though she still had a significant amount of her lunch break left, when she began to read she barely noticed the time pass. Totally absorbed by her book, she completely tuned out the noises of the massive stallion’s labours, eventually forgetting he was even there. She had read only a few dozen pages when she was finally pulled out of her spell.  

“Hello?”  

Twilight looked up, finding a pastel violet unicorn looking down at her. Her kindly eyes, framed by a pair of thin silver spectacles, reminded Twilight of pink carnation petals. Her celadon mane was fastened into a bun that looked soft to the touch. The little filly smiled up at the mare.  

“Hello.”  

“How long have you been waiting here?”  

“Oh, about... twenty minutes, I think,” Twilight frowned. “I’m not too sure.”  

“You spent that much of your lunch break just... waiting?” the mare raised an eyebrow questioningly.  

“I had a book,” the filly answered simply, her smile unwavering.  

“Well... I suppose you are free to do whatever you want,” the mare pursed her lips in thought. “My name is Miss Springtime, by the way.”  

The little lavender unicorn stood up and slipped her book back into the saddlebag. She had just noticed the large stallion had finished setting up the equipment that would be needed for the lesson. There were a variety of focussing tools and weights and puzzles that Twilight recognised from her sessions with Nightmare Moon. There were larger things too, from an inflatable pool filled with water to a complete obstacle course. She was quite surprised that the stallion had managed to get it all together in time for the class.  

She focussed back on the mare in front of her, responding courteously, “I’m Twilight Sparkle, pleased to meet you.”  

“Oh yes, the Empress’s student!” Miss Springtime’s face lit up. “I’ve heard about you. I look forward to having you in my class. Tell me, how many spells do you know?”  

“Um... not that many, I think. But the Empress taught me many different versions of those spells, and all the different ways I could apply them!”  

“Well, I should have expected no less. After all, creativity is what separates a good magician from a great one,” Springtime smiled and nodded her approval. “Though I’m sorry to say we won’t be doing anything very advanced tonight. It’s really just something to ease everypony in.”  

It was only a few moments later that the rest of Twilight’s classmates began to arrive. They all looked at the pieces of equipment with mixed reactions. Most, especially the colts, were verbally excited about the obstacle course and the complicated puzzles that probably looked to them more like toys than tools. A few others, particularly Grace Merryweather and her upper class friends, looked unenthusiastic. They gathered in a group in front of Miss Springtime, with Twilight slipping in amongst them.  

“Welcome, my little ponies, to your Practical Magic Application class, or as we like to call it, ‘Prac-App’. While you may read massive books, write endless essays and answer countless tests in other classes, I can promise you that my classes will be much more enjoyable. Learning should be an experience, not a chore,  and as you may have guessed from the name of the class, we will be doing things that are a lot less writing-intensive and more physical. I will be teaching you different types of magic and how to apply them. Now, being a competent, powerful magic-user requires you to...”  

Twilight tuned the rest of the teacher’s monologue out after that. Nightmare Moon’s taught me all this before: creativity, imagination and ingenuity in shaping spells and applying them to different problems. The dangers of magic and the ways to channel it. Twilight swore that Springtime had repeated what Nightmare Moon had once said word-for-word at times.

When at last she finished talking, the teacher guided the students through the range of their psychokinetic abilities. At first, it was basic: the simply mechanics of telekinesis. Then she elaborated on the skill needed for different methods of telekinesis. While Twilight knew how and why tapping a pony’s shoulder required a much different approach than lifting a large rock, it was at least fairly interesting to hear the basics from a new perspective. Although from the looks on her classmates' faces, it seemed that they disagreed and were impatient for Miss Springtime to move on.

And she did so, describing how a unicorn could also make invisible but tangible shapes with the force of their telekinetic magic. The mare demonstrated by scooping up a volume of water and shaping it into a sphere before letting it splash back down into the pool. A particularly strong magician could, she said, make a rudimentary shield, though it would only really protect against slow-moving projectiles; the strength of a unicorn’s telekinesis was dependent on the strength of the unicorn themselves.

It was then that Miss Springtime called for the students to demonstrate their skills for her, pointing to the equipment laid out for them. Most of the students were surprisingly competent for their age, bending the water in arcs around their heads. Of course, Twilight thought. You have to be good just to get into the Academy. In fact, she herself quickly gained a sense of her classmates' capabilities from watching their skills at work. Those who had difficulty with even this basic spellcraft had to make up for their lack of magical talent with their intellects. 

Twilight twisted around as she heard a yelp. Two colts had taken to scooping up water and throwing it at each other, and the tomfoolery had begun to escalate into a small fight. They were both completely soaked by the time Springtime’s massive assistant stepped in. He lifted the two squabbling foals and split them apart, stepping back for the teacher to discipline them

“You two!” she snapped, raising her voice to a decibel that didn’t quite reach a shout. “What in the name of the Ascended do you think you’re doing?”

If they were wiser, the colts would not have replied. They would have known not to make their situation worse with pointless attempts to defend themselves. But, in the end, even though they were intelligent enough to get into the Academy, they were still eight.

“He started it!” one of them cried.

“You snitch!” the other growled before turning to Miss Springtime. “He was the one who started it! He threw the water at me for no reason!”

They would have quickly descended into bickering had the teacher not intervened. “Both of you stop this now!” They froze. She continued. “It doesn’t matter who started it, because you both allowed it to get out of hoof. This is a lesson and I have been very trusting in letting you do this practical, and if you can’t act maturely or sensibly, then I will have to treat you like kindergarteners and give you a time out. Now, go sit over there by the side. I don’t want to see you within five feet of each other.”
As they sullenly walked to their assigned punishment, the little purple filly rolled her eyes and the two colts’ behaviour. Why must they be so immature? Didn’t they understand the opportunity they had here? The joys of learning and the need for focus? Twilight held back a grunt of frustration. It only further proved to her that the foals at this prestigious school were no different from those at her old school. It was like they didn’t even care about their education. It might have only been the first night of school, but already Twilight felt a bit disgruntled at her fellow pupils’ behaviour.

She decided to put them out of her mind and focus on her task. She scanned the equipment available and was disappointed to find that they were all too basic for her level of skill: balls, weights, puzzles, none offering more than a mild challenge for Twilight. Trotting over to the pool, desire for some kind of intellectual stimulation rising, she stared at it thoughtfully.

While the other foals were treating everything more like a game, Twilight knew better. She saw more than a hint of Nightmare Moon in Miss Springtime's methods, and she sensed that the teacher had quietly presented them with a problem to solve. That was what teachers did, after all; there was no way that this wasn’t some sort of test. It was obvious. Miss Springtime had spoken at length about the ingenuity and skill that are vital in a magician, and how any basic spell could become something truly wondrous. Twilight knew all she had to do was use the mundane objects before her to make something spectacular and creative.

A grin spread across the unicorn foal's face. She marched over to the pool, a plan already forming in her mind. If Miss Springtime wants to see something impressive, then she will. Twilight would pass this exercise with flying colours, she was certain of that. Her horn glowed as she probed the water, picking up a litre in a shimmering sphere.

She knew how difficult it was to pick water up from her attempts to impress the others at the orphanage during her visit. Unlike a solid, she couldn’t absent-mindedly grip it. Instead, she needed to make a hollow shape with her levitation to act as a container, then actively focus to maintain it. A quick inspection of the volume told her that she didn’t have enough water and Twilight struggled to hold her water in the air while withdrawing more out from the pool. When she assumed to have enough, Twilight carefully combined the two invisible containers into one.

Twilight checked to see if Miss Springtime was watching – there was no point to this if the teacher couldn’t see her achievement. As luck would have it, Miss Springtime was indeed watching. In fact, as Twilight gathered her water, the eyes of many of her classmates turned to her, curious as to what the infamous filly would do.

Now comes the hard part, she thought. The purple unicorn’s brow creased in deep focus. She stared at the mass of liquid suspended in the air with young, calculating eyes and began the next step. Morphing her psychokinetic field, she made several appendages spring from the orb, which water quickly filled. Steadily prodding and moulding her invisible container, she painstakingly shaped a life-sized image of a pony. Water sloshed around in the hollow telekinetic creation as Twilight brought it down to the ground. It was similar to the pony form she had made out of water for Moondancer and the others, except this time she used a larger volume to shape a more detailed and lifelike figure, and this time, she wanted to make it move.

Twilight was getting a headache by the time she could make it walk. Unlike the self-guiding water elementals that could be cast by powerful magicians, she had to move her liquid facsimile like a doll, manipulating each part manually. It took a while for her to figure out how to mimic the gait of a pony, and even when she did it was slow and jerky.

The finale came. Sweat beaded down her forehead and eyes blurred from the sheer effort and concentration needed to sustain her creation, but Twilight still wanted one final push. She had abandoned her initial plan of making the water-doll run the obstacle course, underestimating how energy-sapping simply holding it together was. She didn’t even notice her peers’ staring anymore; she was entirely focussed on the task before her.

Its motions became smoother as she practiced and she decided to make it trot. She had a basic grasp of the mechanics behind a natural pony trot and translated it reasonably well into her creation. While by no means graceful, it looked real enough. At her will, the water-doll made a few laps around the pool before finally it leaped into the air and vanished into the pool with a splash. Twilight released her magic with an exhausted gasp, panting as she turned to Miss Springtime.

“Do…” she paused for breath, swallowing to lubricate her dry throat. “Do I pass?”

The violet mare raised an eyebrow in confusion. “Pass? What do you mean?”

“The exercise!” the filly cried. “You gave it to us to see how creative we can be with a simple bit of magic like telekinesis.”

The teacher’s eyes widened and she stared at Twilight for a few moments longer, before finally bursting into laughter. “Oh Twilight! You’re getting far too ahead of yourself. This isn’t a test; there’s no pass or fail.”

“Wh-what? But then… what was the point of it?!”

“The point? This is the first night of school, and you’re all only eight or nine years old. The ‘point’ of this exercise is to have some fun before we get into the more serious stuff,” the mare said, smiling.

Twilight’s jaw dropped and she stopped short of gasping. The teacher of such a prestigious school giving them an exercise just for fun when they were all there to learn? “But Mister Ash said that the lessons here aren’t for time-wasting and we’ll constantly have to work hard to be our best.”

As Springtime replied, her voice took on a harsh cast. “Well, Twilight Sparkle, if you want my opinion, then I’ll say that Mister Ash is just a stuffy old blowhard who’s just bitter about having to get down off his high horse and work with foals. He wouldn’t know the way to treat young fillies and colts if it stared him in the face.” Then, she smiled brightly again and continued in a happier tone. “But in any case, not everything’s a test, silly. I am, however, very impressed with your skill. I can see Her Majesty made a good choice in picking her student. Now...” She turned to the crowd of schoolchildren. “Everyone needs to get back to the practical, please. We've had enough lollygagging for tonight! If anypony needs me, I’ll be talking to Mister High Hammer over there.”

Springtime walked away, leaving Twilight alone in front of a crowd that hadn’t yet dispersed. They continued to look at her. The little filly shuffled awkwardly under their gazes, pawing at the ground. A flush of embarrassment coloured her cheeks red. Were they going to congratulate her on her display, perhaps forgetting all those nasty rumours or would they–

“Ugh, what a show-off.”

She didn’t know where the voice came from within the crowd, but it stabbed at her heart. Her ears downturned and she shied away from them. "I don't see magic!" Miss Springtime called, and the crowd finally began to disperse. Foals went to resume their activities and games with the equipment while Twilight slinked off to the side, tired from her exertions and gloomy from the humiliation. All she wanted now was for this night to end.  

============

Twilight was surprised to see Nightmare Moon come to collect her from the Academy personally. Flanked with her Honour Guards, she caused quite a stir at the main entrance. Ponies bowed as the Empress walked towards the massive fountain in the centre of the plaza where her student sat.

“Twilight Sparkle,” she said, offering a warm smile. “As I have finished all of my duties for the night early, I thought I would see you back to the palace myself.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Twilight said, smiling.

Nightmare Moon’s consideration certainly cheered her up, but the events of her first night of school still weighed heavily on her mind and her smile wasn’t as bright as it could have been. The Empress seemed to pick up on this.

“Are you all right, Twilight?” she asked.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” she nodded.

The Empress looked unconvinced, but whatever thoughts she had, she kept them to herself. “How was your first night at the Academy?”

“It was…”

Terrible, Twilight thought, and she knew Nightmare Moon would ask her why. She would keep probing until Twilight finally buckled and it all came out in tears and pathetic snivels. How Blueblood made her late; how Grace Merryweather decided to try and make her life there miserable; how the vicious rumours about her circulated; how she humiliated herself in class and how the foals treated her. She could tell the Empress of Equestria everything, and in an instant the great black alicorn would descend upon her problems and pick them apart ruthlessly.

But what would that get her? Nothing but more scorn and fear and confirmation of the rumours. She would be the spoilt little tyrannical freak that they thought her to be. And she couldn’t let Blueblood and his associates think she needed to be babysat by Nightmare Moon. Besides, she added indignantly, I’m not a tattle-tale.

“It was fine,” she finished.

“Well, as long as it was not a disaster, then that is probably satisfactory,” Nightmare Moon replied. “Come along now, Twilight. It will be dinner soon. I asked Mister Ram Sea to cook something special to celebrate your first night at the Academy.”

That certainly made Twilight feel a little bit better. She trotted beside her tutor, smiling to herself as she began to think. It was like she thought at lunch; she didn’t really need friends at school. Who cared what they thought? All she needed to do was focus on her studies – those were the things that mattered. Besides, she had all the friends she needed in Orion. She nodded in affirmation.

As long as Orion is around, it’ll be all right.
> Lullay, Dear Twilight
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chapter Twelve:

Lullay, Dear Twilight


Most ponies assumed the Inquisitor would have a hobby or two. After all, with a dusting of grey in the sides of his mane, he looked about the age where a respectable gentlestallion would have a few ways to pass their spare time. Some might gamble or paint or start a collection. In that assumption, they would be wrong. The Inquisitor had taken up a vast number of hobbies in his life, and it made him seem quite the polymath.

One of these hobbies had been gardening. Although the Inquisitor had found it too time-consuming to continue, he still held a fondness for vegetation. That was why he favoured the High Garden as a spot for relaxation. It was a massive, cantilevered platform supported by equally large corbels, topped with patches of grass that carved up the bare stone of the plaza into geometric patterns. Laced throughout, beautiful trees and exotic flowers turned their leaves eagerly up to the moon, sucking hungrily at its silver light. Circular stone tables with swirling rococo patterns and cushioned stools offered comfortable dining with a breathtaking view.

The Inquisitor sat at one of these tables, just at the edge of the High Garden. The moon was especially dim that night, drowned by the heavy clouds heralding evening’s scheduled thunder storm, and so warped the colours of the world into shadowy shades of grey. Before him, the shrouded land of Equestria stretched to the distant horizon. Its rolling hills were coloured purple and blue by the darkness, while the river Canter was a ribbon of silver in the moonlight. Woodlands grew in shadowy patches all across the landscape.

While the ashen unicorn appreciated the softer shades that the starlight revealed, he found that he often missed the sun’s brightness and warmth. It had been so long since he had enjoyed the lazy bliss of a cloudless summer’s day. His diplomatic visits to the far regions of the world where the sun actually shone were cherished rarities.

He had brought some scrolls with him – reports and briefings – and he read them with a cup of coffee at the ready. Opposite him, little Twilight Sparkle was absorbed by her own reading material. She had completed her schoolwork rather quickly, and now enthusiastically devoured a novel. His Empress-mandated punishment of foalsitting Twilight was turning out much easier than he thought it would be. Give her a book and she’ll entertain herself for hours!

He looked back down to his report. The griffons had sent a secret envoy to the dragon overlord, Fostrun. That could only be bad news. He knew for sure that Fostrun held a centuries-old grudge against Equestria, only made worst since his  failed invasion eighty years ago. That bastard would jump at the chance to help the griffons dismember Equestria. The Inquisitor’s only consolation was that he would never so much as lift a claw against the Empire so long as they held the overlord’s offspring as a hostage. The only thing dragons valued more than their hoards was their young.

The grey unicorn sighed, gently massaging his temples. Grand, spur-of-the-moment decisions were exciting and created windows of delicious challenge in an otherwise mundane life, but  they often brought equally grand headaches. The Inquisitor began to wonder if he would regret his decision to provoke the griffons, especially since he made the mistake of doing so in person. They would doubtlessly tell the Equestrian sovereign in their next diplomatic meeting with her how insulting her ambassador had been in his veiled threats and refusal to exchange gifts. The stallion wasn’t exactly worried about Nightmare Moon’s inevitable questions – he had half a dozen different ways to lie or spin the situation in his favour – but there would be fallout, and he preferred not to incur his liege’s disfavour for too long a period of time.

He skimmed through other reports without much interest. They contained the usual news of minor political enemies and rebellious elements being defused, but nothing all that substantial. There were always dissenters, from the lowly pro-democracy pamphleteers to half-baked revolutionaries and assassins who were caught before their plots advanced beyond the earliest stages. But now and then, something exciting showed up, particularly revolving around the biggest and most elusive of the rebel groups. ‘The Harbingers of Dawn’. The Inquisitor rolled his eyes at the grandiose title. Who came up with that? 

Though most of the public was oblivious to their existence, those who knew of the group referred to them as Dawnists and regarded them as a lunatic fringe. Most of Equestria lived in the state of blissful ignorance regarding the day and the sun, thanks partly to the valiant efforts of the Blackcloaks in censoring most such information, and partly to the lack of interest from academics in teaching it to the younger generations. The knowledge wasn’t exactly hard to find if one went looking – indeed, most institutions of higher learning at least mentioned it in passing in their first history classes – but few ever thought to question it. That the continent of Midderland was blanketed by eternal night seemed as natural to a pony as the sea being salty. There was very little to worry about from the Dawnists; they struck most ponies as crackpots, and their worst actions amounted to the occasional raid on an army barracks or Overwatch hideout.

The reports soon began to wear on him.  They held nothing but the tedious minutia that agents seemed compelled to report when they had nothing of significance to offer, as if to justify their continued employment. The Inquisitor looked to Twilight again, now well aware of the silence that had lingered for so long.

“What are you reading there, Twilight?” he asked, leaning in towards her.

The little lavender filly looked up and showed him the cover. There was an illustration of a knightly stallion looking out over a mountain range, a dragon flying in the distance. “The Platinum Crown,” she said. “It’s about a knight who has to chase a dragon who stole a powerful artefact.”

“Sounds… simplistic.”

Twilight snorted a laugh. “Well, of course there’s more to it than that! He’s called Victory Guard, and he’s trying to prove his love for a stuck-up princess, so she decides to send him to hunt a dragon and claim its hoard for her. He finds a bandit mare along the way and she joins him in his quest, but he stumbles into a really big ancient conspiracy that has something to do with the dragon he’s chasing.”

“Let me guess. Over the course of the book, the hero and the bandit fall in love?” the Inquisitor asked.

“Well, I haven’t finished the book yet, but it seems to be going that way.”

He smiled. “That seems about right. I didn’t know you liked these kinds of stories, Little Spark. I thought you preferred non-fiction.”

The filly shook her head with giggly conviction. “No, I like all books. Educational ones are fun and all, but I do like to get lost in a really good story.” Twilight looked away for a moment, before meeting his eyes once more. “Um, Mister Inquisitor, do you know any stories? I mean, a pony in your position must have heard a lot of really good tales!”

Rubbing his chin with a hoof, the Inquisitor cocked his head. He certainly did know plenty of tales, though many of them were not appropriate for an innocent young filly of eight years. Still, he thought, if she likes knights and princesses…

“I know a few,” he answered, flashing his wry smirk at the young unicorn. “How would you like to hear the tale of the King in the Moon and the Lonely Prince?”

Twilight cocked her head, curious. “The King in the Moon?”

“Oh yes. The King in the Moon… it’s an old, old story. Older than the Empire, and passed down for generations before it was ever set to paper.” His voice adopted the hushed, excited tone of an elderly village storyteller. Twilight sat as still as a statue, staring at him with her full attention. “The story begins a long, long time ago in a land far, far away. There was a prince; an alicorn prince. His home was a tiny, tiny kingdom, and he was the weakest of the princes. His father was a vassal to the mightiest of kings and he often visited their court, where he became good friends with the king’s beautiful daughter. As they grew older, that friendship blossomed into something more.

“Unfortunately, when the prince asked the great king for his daughter’s hoof in marriage, the king rejected him and forbade him from seeing her. After all, why let this son of a minor vassal marry his daughter when he had offers from powerful emperors and the like? His heart broken, the prince fled deep into the forest and cried his heart out. There he stayed for nights on end, hoping to starve himself to death in his grief.

“One evening, far above him, the full moon shone brilliant silver, and there was a witness to the prince’s mourning. The King in the Moon, who watched the earth during eves when the moon was full, took pity on the young alicorn prince.

“‘Prince,’ he called down to the stallion. ‘Why do you cry so? Why do you hide yourself away from your fellow ponies?’

“‘I am too weak and too petty for my liege. He finds me unworthy to wed his daughter and has forbidden me from seeing her.’

“‘Do you love her?’ asked the King.

“‘I do, with all my heart.’

“‘I pity you, young prince,’ said the King. ‘I will help you, though I will ask compensation for my efforts.’

“The young prince was delighted and cried eagerly, ‘Name your price!’

“‘I wish to visit the earth,’ the King in the Moon said, melancholy filling his words. ‘The other alicorns do not like me or my kingdom much, so cold and strange as we are, and have forbidden me and my people from stepping onto your world. When you have your princess and rule beside her, you will let me come down to your kingdom whenever I want.’

“‘I gladly accept!” the prince said, all too quickly, too excited for his own good.

“‘Then the pact is made,’ came the voice of the King, and it died into an echo in the night’s wind.

“At first, nothing happened, but then the wind ceased to blow in the trees. The frogs and night birds fell silent, and even the crickets held their breath. Then the alicorn prince spied a ghostly silver glow coming towards him from the dark treeline. Like a scrap of moonlit mist, the glow slithered and flitted through the air, slowly drifting toward him. The air crackled with power as it drew closer. His hair stood on end and electricity shot through his body. He had never felt anything like it before; though it was only a faint light, it stung his eyes like the brightest Bright Moon. The glow grew brighter and brighter the nearer it came. It paused like a curious animal as it came within reach of the prince. At first he dared not reach out for it, though the power he felt was intoxicating. Then he hesitantly stretched out his hoof to the glow. There was a flash like lightning and a crack like thunder, and the prince slipped into unconsciousness.

“The next morning, he woke up feeling energetic and confident. He tried out a few simple spells, and was shocked to find how powerful he had become. Before, he had been barely stronger than the most powerful of mortal sorcerers, but now he found he could perform awesome feats of magic that were beyond even most Immortals. The prince set out to seek the permission of his love’s father.

“When he came to the king, he stood firm against the stallion’s anger and begged him for a chance to win his old foalhood friend’s hoof in marriage. The king, on the counsel of his wife, relented and gave the prince three tasks to test his strength, cleverness and courage, expecting that the young alicorn would not even pass the first test.

“The hopeful prince was sent to the borderlands, where a great conflict raged between the dragons and the king’s armies, charged with driving back the dragons and securing peace. Though a difficult task for many a veteran general and an impossible one for an untested youth, the prince drew strength from thoughts of his love and committed himself to protecting her father’s kingdom and winning her hoof.

“As he won victory after victory, the tales of his deeds spread far and wide. Faced with such a champion, the dragons’ nerve broke and they soon signed a treaty of surrender. The young alicorn had done in under a year what those of higher status could not in over a century. He returned to the king’s court wearing the laurels of a hero, leading the King’s armies while the generals hailed his deeds.

“Though grateful, the king insisted that he complete the remainder of his labours. For the next task, he gave the prince a riddle: to bring him a thing brighter than the stars that grew from a child of a skyless land. The prince puzzled over this for a very long time, for though he searched, he could find nothing that matched the king’s riddle. Eventually, he decided to take the matter into his own hooves.

“So, deep into the earth he dug and carved out a massive cavern. He then took a single seed and planted it in that cavern, watering it with his vast power. Though there was no light or water, the seed quickly grew into a huge, healthy tree surrounded by a lush field of grass. He presented the king with its fruit: a golden apple. Magical light from his horn was reflected by the apple, making it shine brighter than the stars.

“The king laughed as he took the apple, impressed with the prince’s ingenuity, and gladly gave the young stallion his final task. The king’s daughter was promised to another, a highborn warrior whose power and brutality was so legendary that even the prince, conqueror of dragons, feared him. The king told them that whoever won a duel between the two would have his daughter’s hoof in marriage. The prince and the warrior both accepted; the latter confident of his victory, the former unwilling to give up on winning his bride.

“The two fought a mighty struggle across field and mountain, through forest and waste, from the tops of the clouds to the bottoms of lakes and seas. Though the warrior was a fierce and skilled fighter, the young prince was powerful and determined. Finally, on a nameless beach of a foreign shore, the prince collapsed, battered and bloody. The warrior stood over him, laughing. ‘What made you think you could defeat me, little prince?’ the warrior asked.  

"‘Because I love her,’ the prince said. Suddenly, his wounds vanished; in his former weakness, the prince had learned to rely on trickery and deception, and his defeat had been feigned. He lunged to his hooves with a scream and drove his horn straight through the warrior’s heart!

“The prince and his love were married soon after that. The king gave the prince a dowry of land to rule as he wished. Together, the young alicorn and his new wife lived happily for many years. 

“But one night, while the prince attended the birthday of his new baby daughter, the King in the Moon spoke to him once more. He demanded his repayment; he demanded to return to Earth in the prince’s lands. But the prince had become proud with the realisation of his dreams and his new power. He refused, fearing that everything he had worked for would be taken from him if the other alicorns learned that he had made a deal with the King in the Moon.

“The King in the Moon grew furious at this treachery. At first, he tried to negotiate with the prince. He offered the whole of the kingdom, the land of the dragons, the entire world, if only the prince would keep his word. But the prince would bargain no more. The King in the Moon threatened him, saying that he would tell everypony about their deal, but the prince laughed because nopony would ever believe him. The King in the Moon declared that he would take away the prince’s mighty power, and the prince shrugged that off as well. He already had everything he wanted; he had no need for the power anymore. The King in the Moon, now in a rage more terrible than ever, finally told the prince that he would receive a punishment for his betrayal that was beyond his darkest dreams. And then he vanished.

“The prince shrugged at the empty threat and returned to his wife and child. Slowly, however, he grew more aggressive and unpredictable. As the weeks and months passed by, these small changes became more and more pronounced until his body began to change as well. Slowly, torturously, the prince began to transform. His hooves were the first to change, becoming dragon claws and bird talons, and his legs soon followed suit. 

“Though he tried at first to hide his deformities while he struggled to find a cure, he despaired as his tail and wings also changed, taking on the appearance of yet different animals. The deformities spread week by week, picking at his already volatile mind. Finally, as his face was twisted beyond recognition, he snapped.

“Driven to madness, he turned his vast power on his friends and family. The peaceful home he had won with the power of the King in the Moon became a wasteland in a single evening. And as he whiled away the lonely nights, no more than a beast among the bones of his loved ones, the King in the Moon watched from above and laughed at the sight of his vengeance.”

The Inquisitor stopped, smiling in satisfaction at his story’s end, feeling that he had done justice to the old story. He only noticed Twilight after a few moments of heavy silence. Her head just poked out from under the table, staring up at him with a shocked expression, her ears flattened in dismay. Oh dear, he thought.

“Tha… that was horrible!” the little filly squeaked, her voice wobbling. “D-don’t you know any nice stories?”

The grey stallion shrugged. “The good stories are seldom ‘nice’.”

“Says you!” Twilight scowled. “I thought it was going to be nice and romantic, but you made it end so horribly! That was… that was… horrible!”

“Well, you didn’t ask for a nice story. That’s the way it ends. But there is a moral to it. The prince was arrogant, and he didn’t give the King what was owed. That is a betrayal of trust, and the horrible, horrible ending drives home the lesson.” He smiled and continued with sarcastic cheeriness, “I trust you can take this lesson to heart.”

Twilight gave an adorable little pout. “I didn’t ask for a lesson. You were supposed to tell me a story.”

“Here’s another lesson for you, Little Spark,” the stallion said, leaning in towards her conspiratorially. “Everything, in one way or another, is a lesson. I just like to dress mine up as stories and tell them oh-so-bluntly.”

He flashed the filly wry grin, and despite the lingering dismay at his story’s downbeat ending, she cracked an uncertain smile. The Inquisitor then returned to drifting through his reports whilst Twilight turned back to her novel. From the corner of his eye, the ashen unicorn saw the filly fidget and frown thoughtfully. She continued like this for several minutes before turning to the Inquisitor.

“That prince… he was Discus, wasn’t he?” she asked.

“Hmm?”

“You said he planted a tree underground that grew magical golden apples. On the tour around the palace, the guide told us it was Prince Discus who planted the Hesperidium so long ago.”

“Oh… well, I guess the prince was Discus, then. I hadn’t really thought of it before,” the Inquisitor remarked.

Twilight nodded and broke away in thought before turning back to the stallion. “Was that what really happened to Discus? Did he get turned into a monster?”

“It’s just a story, Little Spark. As I said, it’s old, and so it has many, many versions. In some of them, the King in the Moon is a queen; in others, he outwits the King in the end and lives happily ever after. As for what happened to the real Discus…” he shrugged. “My guess is that he lived with his wife right up until the alicorns vanished.”

“Are there any other versions you know?” she asked.

The Inquisitor tapped his chin with a hoof. “Well, there’s quite a few more. A lot have him doing more tasks, like building great monuments or capturing Ladon.”

Twilight’s eyes widened with her smile. “Is he the one that made Ladon guard the Hesperidium, then?”

He answered her with an arched brow and a knowing smirk. “And why would you think that Ladon guards the Hesperidium?”

She blanched, swallowed, and tried act nonchalant. “I… read it in a book?”

“A book.” the Inquisitor said flatly. “What was it called?”

“Uh… ‘Figures of Ancient Myths and Legends’,” Twilight said, forcing a smile.

“Perhaps you can show me this book later?”

“I… um… I guess,” she babbled, the strain of keeping her lies together now plain on her face. “I mean, I’ve lost it. I can’t find it anymore.”

The Inquisitor allowed an uneasy silence to pass, staring her in the eye, before he finally grinned and said, “I know about the Hesperidium, Twilight.”

The unicorn froze. Her eyes bugged out as she stammered, “Wha… what?”

“I took the liberty of placing a system of security charms on the entrance to the Hesperidium some time ago. They alerted me to your entry, and I scried the tunnel to see what the problem was.” The Inquisitor allowed himself a sly smile. “I doubt the Empress gave you and your friend permission to go there.”

“I… I…” Twilight gulped. “I’m so sorry! Please don’t tell–”

The stallion lifted up a hoof and the little filly’s mouth snapped shut on the plea. She was almost quivering with fear under his impossibly dark eyes and that smile that was almost predatory in its casual superiority. The Inquisitor caught himself and offered a happier, nicer grin, raising his eyebrows for a gentler expression.

“Calm down, Twilight, I’m not going to punish you,” he said. She opened her mouth to speak, but he lifted his hoof again to silence her. “I haven’t told Nightmare Moon, and I don’t intend to. All right?”

“O-okay,” the little pony squeaked, and relaxed just a little. “Are… are you mad at me?”

The Inquisitor pursed his lips. “No, not at all. I mean, it was certainly very, very bad of you to steal the key from Nightmare Moon – I know she didn’t just give it to you – but there was no harm done. I certainly loved a little misadventure back in my youth.” Twilight perked up at his words, comforted by his casual tone and the realisation that she would get in no real trouble. “But, Twilight, you must never again wander into places that are off-limits. The palace is the centre of Equestria; its halls contain things that are definitely not for little foals. You’re lucky it was the Hesperidium you broke into and not somewhere more dangerous.” 

“More dangerous?” Twilight ventured, eyes twinkling with curiosity. A narrow look from the stallion cowed her.

“I wouldn’t go looking for trouble, if I were you. You have some leeway as the Empress’s student, but the Hesperidium’s guardian is far from the worst thing you could disturb.”

“So there’s more things like Ladon?” the filly blurted.

“Yes. Things gathered from a millennium of searching. Things locked deep within the mountain, under the earth, in dark chambers far more forbidden than Ladon’s grotto. Canterlot is the ancient heart of Equestria, and Equestria has many, many secrets locked within the city.”

“And I’m not to go looking for them…” Twilight concluded wistfully.

“There’s plenty of fun to be had without hunting for things that have been locked away for your own safety. Haven’t you been having fun with the Empress and her private lessons?”

“I guess…” the filly said, her face drooping sadly. “It’s just lately she’s been a little… distant.”

The Inquisitor nodded and spoke to her gently, a soft conciliatory smile on his lips, “She has a lot on her plate at the best of times, and even moreso recently. She is the ruler of Equestria, after all.”

“She cancelled my last few lessons…” Twilight muttered. “I haven’t really been able to talk to her all that much lately.”

The stallion’s heart twisted at the little filly’s miserable pout. “Well, just remember that it’s not because she wants to avoid you or anything. I’m sure that she’ll soon be back to her old self, and you’ll have nice, long chats,” he soothed, before offering her an uplifting grin. “Besides, aren’t I fun to talk to?”

“Yeah, I guess…”

“You’re not going to get anywhere in life if you only rely on the Empress as a source of friendship. Someone your age should really open herself up to others, especially others your age.”

“Yeah, I know,” she said, though from her tone the Inquisitor wasn’t entirely convinced she was really going to heed his advice. “But I’m fine already, and I do have friends my age, it’s just that I don’t see them all the time. Like Orion, and–”

All of a sudden, Twilight sat up straight, as if a bolt of electricity had struck her. With wide eyes, she turned her head, frantically looking for something. The grey stallion flinched at the stark change in behaviour. After searching for several seconds to no avail, Twilight turned to fix her eyes with his.

“Do you have the time?” she asked.

The Inquisitor pulled out a pocket-watch. “About ten minutes past four.”

The filly gasped and slammed her book shut. “I’m so sorry Mister Inquisitor but I have to go!” she said, her words streaming out in one breath. She stood up and turned to rush away. “My friend’s probably been waiting at the reception hall for ages!”

The Inquisitor watched Twilight go. Her presence was a comfort, he had to admit. Even when they sat together in simple silence, he appreciated the company. It was a nice feeling, to not have to sit alone. Despite being ordered to look after Twilight whenever Nightmare Moon needed him, he found that, now he tried it, he wouldn’t have minded doing it voluntarily.

Perhaps Luna would not mind me adding to her education. The girl could certainly stand to learn a few things from me besides magic, if she is going to grow up in the palace, he thought. It would certainly allow him to spend more time with the foal.

A contented smile came to his lips. That was, he decided, a rather nice thought indeed.

==========

Twilight was gasping for air by the time she arrived in the reception hall. As there were virtually no foals there, it didn’t take her long to spy Orion sitting to the side at one of the tables, sipping at a drink. She trotted up to him, a smiling apologetically.

“Hello, Orion,” she said. “I’m so sorry I’m late. I didn’t realise what time it was.”

Her friend waved his hoof dismissively. “It’s all right. I didn’t mind, really. They suggested I wait here and let me order a drink. Do you want to get anything?”

She shook her head as she took her place in the seat opposite him. “No, I’m fine. How have you been?”

“I can’t complain. Still being run ragged by Miss Loch with the extra studies, training, and chores, but I kind of like it,” he said. “It gives me something to focus on.”

“So what’s the training about anyway?” Twilight asked with a little smile, unconsciously cocking her head at an inquisitive angle.

His brow creased slightly, as if he had to think about his answer. “Oh, it’s just the usual vocational stuff… uh, skills for life and work, that sort of thing.”

She rolled her eyes. “I know that. I mean, what is it specifically that you’re training in?”

“Uh, it’s not very exciting, really. Just a bit of handypony kinds of things: plumbing, mechanic skills and stuff like that,” he replied, the crease in his forehead disappearing.

“Oh, well, you’ll have to show me what you can do some night,” Twilight said. “In the future, I mean. Not right now, if you don’t want to.”

“Right… in the future…”  Orion looked away.

Though many would find it hard to read the colt, he had been Twilight’s close friend for quite some time. She noticed his shoulders sag a little and his ears twitch backward, just a fraction. Concerned, she leaned in towards him.

“What’s wrong, Orion?” she asked.

He looked back to her and smiled hollowly. “Nothing… nothing’s wrong.”

Twilight peered at him sceptically. “Are you sure? You can tell me what it is. Remember Orion, you can tell me anything and I’ll keep it to myself.”

The white earth pony closed his eyes shook his head, punctuating it with a sigh. “No, it’s fine. I mean, I’ll tell you later, but right now, I’d rather not spoil our afternoon together.” He opened his eyes and offered her a larger, seemingly more sincere smile. “Don’t worry about it.”

Now she really was worried. What could be bothering Orion so much that it might ruin their night if he told her? Is Blitz bullying ponies again? she wondered. Did… did somepony die?! Her eyes widened at the thought. She bit her lip to calm herself. No, it couldn’t be that. She’d have been told by Loch Mare or Orion soon after the fact if that had happened. Lost in her fears, Twilight was brought back to the present with the touch of a hoof on hers. Her eyes snapped up to Orion’s own cool blue ones.

“I said not to worry.” His voice was as gentle and comforting as he could make it. “Please, I’d like us to have some fun together without you driving yourself crazy over this. It’s not that big a deal, anyway.”

The little lavender unicorn sighed and, with a shake of her head, forced a smile back onto her own face. “Okay, Orion,” she replied. “I’ll try not to think about it.”

He rubbed her hoof reassuringly, then snatched it away with a slight blush on his face. Twilight giggled at her friend’s embarrassment, and Orion joined in with a small chuckle.

“So what do you want to do now?” he asked after they had their laugh.

Twilight hummed and tapped her chin with a hoof in thought. They had done quite a lot last time; between their fascinating tour of the palace, their adventure into the Hesperidium and her magical demonstration in the grove, she couldn’t think of anything that would surpass that night. Then, an idea occurred to her.

“Do you remember how I told you how I had a Flare during my entrance exam?” He nodded. “I hatched a dragon egg – which wasn’t supposed to happen – and now they’re taking care of the baby dragon in the palace. Do you want to go see him?”

Orion’s icy blue eyes sparkled with excitement. “A real baby dragon? I’ve never even seen a drag… well, I’ve never seen a baby dragon before.” He then frowned. “Are you sure it’s all right? I mean, wouldn’t it be dangerous?”

The filly shook her head. “No, he’s kind of like a baby pony, and he can’t breathe fire. He hasn’t even grown his wings yet.”

The white colt nodded and downed his drink, wiping his mouth with a satisfied sigh. “Well then, lead the way!”

They left the reception hall after that, the smaller foal leading the larger. Though this room was not on her usual circuit of most frequented areas of the palace, she had come to understand the palace better in the past two months. She was more comfortable in finding her way around, looking for landmarks and familiar corridors and rooms. They only had to ask for directions once, and Twilight was pleasantly surprised to discover she had been closer to guessing the right way than she had thought.

Along the way, they chatted together about all kinds of subjects, though mostly it was what she learned from the palace and its inhabitants. Orion was genuinely interested in the lessons from the Empress, marvelling at the rapid progress she made in her magical studies and enraptured by her retellings of Nightmare Moon’s first-hoof accounts of history. Her friend didn’t offer much to talk about; he was content just to listen.

“Twilight,” he said, pausing at the top of a staircase as she finished an anecdote about the time she helped Salt Wind cook. “Have you met any Blackcloaks?”

Twilight blinked quizzically at the sudden change of subject and looked over her shoulder at the colt. Instead of his usual stoic nonchalance, his face was set in a hard, serious expression. Twilight reminded herself that, while she might have grown  used to them, Blackcloaks were still scary to many, many ponies.

“Not really,” she said. “I mean, there’s the Inquisitor – he’s in charge of them all – I talk to him a lot. And there’s also his secretary, Thundersong, but I don’t really talk to her at all.”

“I don’t think you should spend time with any of them,” Orion said very seriously. “They’re all very bad ponies.”

Twilight shook her head. “Ponies are just scared of them because they’re supposed to be scary. If they’re going to stop bad ponies and criminals, they need to be intimidating. I mean, the Inquisitor’s really nice when you get to know him, even though he looks a little frightening.”

The colt didn’t seem convinced. “I just want you to be careful around them, especially this Inquisitor. Remember Ladon?” His voice shrunk to a whisper. “He was very nice and friendly, but don’t forget how dangerous he is. He admitted he’s killed people before. Don’t let your guard down just because somepony might seem friendly.”

“Well, the Inquisitor’s very kind to me, and the Empress says the Blackcloaks are good, and I trust what she says,” Twilight huffed. “If you met any of them, I’m sure you’d agree with me.”

“I don’t want to meet them,” Orion said, before sighing. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“Don’t worry, Orion,” she said, giving him a light-hearted nudge. “Even if somepony turned out to be a baddy, Nightmare Moon won’t let anything happen to me.”

A slight scowl briefly marred her friend’s face at the mention of the Empress’s name and he opened his mouth to reply, but quickly shut it. The usual neutrality returned to his features with a sigh and a shake of his head. Twilight was about to press him to say what he had on his mind, but then she saw their destination up ahead, a door at the end of the hallway.

“We’re here!” she called.

Twilight pushed the door open to reveal a spacious room. Tall windows offered a view of the gardens and allowed what there was of the dim night’s moonlight to stream in, though chandeliers and wall-lanterns lit the place well. The room appeared to be a drawing room that had been repurposed into a nursery. The wooden floor was home to a brightly coloured rug featuring fun little patterns. Toys of all kinds lay scattered around the place, from balls to building blocks to stuffed animals. To the bibliophilic unicorn’s delight, there were many shelves stacked with a plethora of children’s books. 

A pair of nurses seated on a sofa, one pink-furred and one yellow, cut off in mid-chat and turned to the new arrivals with surprised expressions. Twilight waved sheepishly.

“Um, hi… I just thought I might show my friend, Orion, the baby dragon, if that’s okay with you,” she said, quite squeakily. “Sorry for not knocking,” she added.

“It’s quite all right, dear,” one of the nurses replied. She pointed to a little round basket on the floor in the corner. “He’s sleeping, so try to keep it quiet.”

Twilight nodded and ushered Orion forward, taking care to make as little noise as possible. They crept up to the cot, manoeuvring through toys strewn like caltrops. When she saw the little dragon, she immediately reacted how many little girls would.

“Awwwww!” 

She simpered at the sight of the tiny baby, curled up tightly in fluffy pink blankets. The creature was covered in purple scales a shade or two darker than Twilight’s fur, though his underside was a trail of light green from his bottom lip to the tip of his tail. A dark green line of blunt, stubby spikes ran along his back, ending in a small crest on the top of his head. Ear-fans the same colour as his belly flapped happily in his sleep.

“What’s his name?” Orion asked in a whisper.

“I forgot what it was in dragonish, but it translates to something like ‘Spike’, so we’ve been calling him that,” one of the nurses answered.

Twilight leaned in closer to the sleeping babe, still beaming at the sight, and studied the ridge on his back. “Spike seems kind of fitting, I think. Though they aren’t very sharp.”

“I think they’re almost always like that, even when they’re adults. Though apparently some are born with sharp spikes, and many like to sharpen them.”

The filly turned to the nurses, grinning. “Like a manecut?”

The pink nurse smiled back, nodding. “Like a manecut.”

Then, behind her, Twilight heard a small, squeaky yawn. Turning to it, she saw the baby dragon had awakened. Spike peered up at her with curious green eyes, his scaly lips pursed in as much thought as a newborn could muster. Twilight cooed at the inquisitive little thing.

“Hello there, Spike!” she said.

Spike chirped in response.

“My name’s Twilight Sparkle, and this is my friend, Orion,” she motioned to the white colt beside her. “Say ‘hello’, Orion.”

“Uh… hi?” 

Spike cocked his head at the colt.

“He’s too young to understand us, Twilight,” Orion said. 

“It’s good to talk to babies,” Twilight assured him. “It helps them learn.”

Orion arched a brow. “You’ve read a book on infant social and mental development?”

The filly huffed indignantly. “No, I helped Miss Loch with the babies from time to time. She got me to talk to them and play with them when she couldn’t.” She sat down and crossed her arms with a pout. “I can sometimes pick up a few things without having to read them in books. It’s just that books are usually more helpful.”

“Yeah, okay,” Orion grinned at her before turning to look at Spike.

The baby was a curious little dragon, staring quizzically at the unfamiliar Orion. He padded over to him, quite bravely, Twilight thought, and sniffed the colt. She was scared Spike might bite her friend, dragon that he was, but it seemed the hatchling grew quickly bored of Orion and went off on a quest of exploration around the room.

“He seems a bit like a dog,” the colt said, earning a glare from Twilight for his tactlessness.

“Dragons learn how to behave like normal people as they grow,” a nurse chimed in. “Otherwise they go feral. Don’t worry; he’ll act more like a normal foal as he gets older.”

Orion nodded and stared at the purple reptile in thought for a few moments before turning to Twilight. “Hey, Twilight, you hatched him, right?”

The filly smiled at the memory. “Oh, yes. That was when I Flared and Nightmare Moon noticed me.”

The colt scratched the back of his neck. “Does that mean you’re his mother?”

“What?!”

“Well, think about it. You hatched him and brought him into the world, and that’s what mothers do.” Orion gave a slight, jocular smile.

Twilight shook her head. “No! Definitely not. I think… I think I’m more like the midwife.”

“So…” the colt turned to the nurses. “Who is his mother then? I mean, how did we end up with a dragon egg in the exam room anyway?”

The nurses turned to one another, nervous, unsure looks in their eyes. They looked at Orion. “Well…” 

“Apparently the egg test was only meant for very gifted adults,” Twilight Sparkle interrupted, her chest puffing up quite proudly. “Ponies kept failing at it, and it was only by mistake that I was given it.”

Orion rolled his eyes and motioned for the two nurses to continue. The pink mare smiled and continued.

“Well, I think it’s all right if you know. You’re probably going to find out eventually anyway,” she said, eyeing the little infant dragon. “He’s the son of a dragon king far out to the west. We’re… foalsitting him.”

“Wow, so he’s like a prince?” Twilight said, regarding Spike with renewed fascination.

“Wait, what do you mean ‘foalsitting’?” Orion asked, frowning curiously. “Can’t he be taken care of by his own kind?”

“He… his father wanted him to be raised in Equestria for a time before he went back home,” the other nurse said, before quickly adding, “To foster good relations between our empire and his kingdom.”

“Hmm… well, okay… I guess that makes sense.” The colt did not sound very convinced.

Twilight shook her head and sighed, quite tired of her friend’s constant scepticism. “It does to me. Think about it, dragons live for… forever – I think – and what are a few years out of forever? Plus, he’ll be able to get a good Equestrian Canterlot education. I mean, that’s probably better than anything he’d get in Westerland.”

Orion didn’t reply. Instead he bent down to look at the little reptile at eye level. Spike scampered up to him and locked the larger boy in a piercing, unflinching stare. They watched one another in curious patience, waiting for the other to do something. The baby dragon took the initiative. Quite deliberately, he swayed his head back and butted it against Orion’s muzzle.

“Ow!” he said, springing up and rubbing his nose, glaring down at Spike, who was looking quite pleased with himself. “That little ba… that little rascal has a really hard head.”

Once again, the nurses offered some supplementary commentary: “Dragons are very, very tough creatures. They can even bathe in lava.”

“Wouldn’t want to get in a fight with one then, I guess,” he mumbled, still looking crossly at the thing.

Spike then waddled up to Twilight. She almost flinched, afraid he was going to do something similar to what he did to Orion, but quickly relaxed after he began rubbing his head against her leg, cooing softly.

“Awww, how cute!” she cried, scooping him up.

The baby allowed himself to be coddled like this and was soon asleep in Twilight’s gently rocking arms. She shot a smarmy grin at Orion.

“Told you I’m good with babies,” she said, sticking her tongue out playfully.

Orion just clicked his teeth and rolled his eyes.

The pink nurse stood up and walked over to Twilight. “I think he’s had enough excitement for the time being,” she said, gently taking him from Twilight’s arms. “He needs to finish his nap now.”

The filly nodded. “Sure, I–”

A rumbling, growling noise sounded out in the room. Twilight looked down to the culprit, her stomach, and blushed. “Uh… heh, heh.” 

“Come on, Twilight,” Orion said, smiling at his friend’s embarrassment. “Let’s get some food.”

She nodded and walked with him towards the door, but stopped and quietly rushed back to the sleeping baby dragon. Craning over him, captivated by a simply adorable snore, she whispered, “Bye, Spike, I’ll see you later.”

If there was one place Twilight could always find, it was the kitchens, and they suffered no difficulties in getting there. All the while, they chatted almost mindlessly about subjects like the meals in the palace (terrific and varied) and how much free reign she had in the kitchens (almost limitless when a big meal wasn’t being prepared). More than once, Orion expressed his jealousy of her twenty-four hour access to such wonderful food, reminiscing about the fickle quality they had at the orphanage.

As the two foals trotted into the kitchen, they were greeted by a voice several decibels louder than was safe for normal, sane conversation.

“What the bloody hell do you call this?!”

Head Chef Ram Sea was in the process of exploding at a young stallion with a light amber coat. The stallion was quite lanky, though somehow Ram Sea seemed to tower over him with sheer force of personality.

“I-I…”

“If you can’t even keep the flipping scrambled eggs from going runny then how do you expect to succeed in my kitchen? We’re not cooking for kindergarteners here, we’re cooking for bloody royalty!”

“I was nervous!” the stallion blurted. “It won’t happen again.”

The chef didn’t accept the apology; instead he huffed and growled in a way that reminded Twilight of an enraged dog. “It better not bloody well happen again! I got a good word about you, and it turns out you can’t even cook the easiest breakfast to make outside of cereal!”

“I-I told you my specialty was desserts!”

“Well, prance off out of my kitchen and practice some other kinds of meals,” he snapped. “I don’t want to see you back until you can give me breakfast, lunch and supper with three courses that I am satisfied with, Carrot!”

“S-sir!”

The panicking cook bolted out the door, leaving Ram Sea to grunt and trot off to the other side of the kitchen. Twilight had never seen Ram Sea like this before. Her ears were flat against her head and she sat there, completely bewildered until a familiar dark blue pegasus mare walked up to her, smiling apologetically.

“I’m so, so sorry you had to hear that,” she said. “Ram Sea’s just in a… worse mood than usual today. Unfortunately, he’s chosen today to micromanage the pâtissier’s team, and they’ve just got a new recruit. Poor guy…”

“Oh, uh, it’s all right,” Twilight said, attempting a completely unconvincing grin to try and disguise her shock at the Head Chef’s language.

“I’ll have to have a little talk with Chef Ram Sea about his behaviour,” Salt Wind said, giving the back of the Gallopfreyan’s head a terrifying glare. Across the room, without even looking, he suddenly, inexplicably shivered. The mare returned her eyes to Twilight with a smile. “So! It’s good to see you again. How are the studies going?”

“They’re going very well,” she declared, quite proudly. “I’m at the top of almost all my classes.”

“Almost?”

She cringed. “Well, I had an… accident in Practical Magic Application.”

“Ooh, do you mind if I ask what it was?” Salt Wind asked. 

“I, uh, strained myself a bit too much and sort of… blew up,” Twilight gave a sheepish grin. “Miss Springtime grew a moustache.”

“I guess you’ll have to work on that with the Empress then,” she said, shrugging before making a vague gesture in the air. “So, what can I get you? We’ve got mostly bits that we’re using to prepare dinner but I can grab you something out of the pantry.”

“I’m kinda in the mood for some spaghetti marinara,” Twilight said before giving Orion a questioning look.

He shrugged. “I’ll have a bowl too, I guess.”

Salt Wind nodded. “Okay then, I’ll have it done in a jiffy. Why don’t you two have a seat in the banquet hall? There’s nopony there at the moment.”

The two foals thanked her and set off for the banquet hall. It was as big as a typical banquet hall doubled or possibly trebled in size. Many long tables occupied the room, though currently free of cutlery and plates. Twilight led Orion to a table that sat on a raised platform overlooking the hall. In the middle of this table was a mahogany throne, beautifully carved and clearly indicating the Empress’s place during dinner. Twilight sat next to it, in a space that was now effectively reserved for her. When Orion chose the ornate wooden throne for his seat, Twilight hissed at him.

“What are you doing?” she demanded.

Her friend looked at her as if she was stupid. “What does it look like? I’m sitting down?”

“You can’t sit there!”

“Why not?”

“That’s the Empress’s seat,” Twilight whispered, afraid somepony would hear their argument and get them in trouble. “Nopony but her is allowed to sit there.”

“So? She’s not here now. Nopony’s here,” he retorted.

“Just get off of it! It’s disrespectful!”

Orion snorted. “It’s just a chair. It’s not like I sat down in it while she was in the bathroom during dinner.”

“It doesn’t matter. It’s the Empress’s seat and only she can sit on it. You wouldn’t like it if somepony used your bed.”

“But that’s my bed. This is just a chair. It’s totally different.”

“You’ll get in trouble. Please just sit here,” she indicated the seat opposite her. “Please, Orion.”

She looked up at him with the most pathetic look she could muster, her eyes large and shimmering with moisture, her lips pouted and trembling. He defiantly harrumphed and crossed his forelegs, turning away in the manner of many a stubborn noble. It took him no more than a couple of glances down at his little friend before he broke.

“Fine,” he said, standing up and making the rather long journey around the table, sitting down in front of her and muttering, “I don’t see why you’re so tetchy about it.”

“Well, firstly, the Empress is really old, and you know we should respect our elders. Secondly, she’s done so much for us all for centuries and that means we should respect her more. It’s like Miss Loch always said, respecting a pony means respecting their things.”

“Yeah, I know, but wouldn’t you want to sit in it if you could get away with it?” he asked. “It is the Empress’s seat after all; not many ponies could say they sat in that.”

She frowned and puffed out her cheeks, preparing for another tirade, before she froze and a sly grin slowly appeared on her face. “Weren’t you the one who said it was ‘just a chair’? Why would it be so important for you to sit on it?”

Even in a colt as insular as Orion, she could see the pride die in his eyes, being tripped over his own tongue by a little filly four years his junior. He gave the begrudging, semi-respectful scowl of a justly-beaten friend and childishly stuck out his tongue.

In the quiet of the vast hall, the opening of the door to the kitchen was heard as a loud, echoing bang. Salt Wind came in expertly balancing a couple of bowls of pasta on her back.

“Grub’s up, kids,” she said, reaching behind her and placing the dishes in front of them. She then theatrically bowed. “Bon appetite.”

Twilight giggled. “Thank you, Salt Wind.”

“My pleasure, Twilight. Now, I’ve got to go and see if I can get Ram Sea to calm down. He’s started to throw things at the intern.”

The two began to eat after she left. The older foal made sounds of audible pleasure as he chewed his food, gaining questioning looks from the filly. He slurped down a string of spaghetti and sighed quite loudly before finally noticing Twilight looking at him as if he was mad. He blushed in embarrassment.

“Sorry, Twilight,” he said with a suitably abashed, nervous grin. “It’s just that I’ve never tasted food that good. I can’t believe you get served like this every night.”

Twilight smiled. “Yeah, well, it is the palace, after all. I suppose only the best of the best get picked to come and work here. I guess I’ve grown used to the food, though.”

“It sure beats the food at the home,” he nodded in agreement. “I bet you’re pretty much being treated like a princess all the time here.”

“Um…” Twilight looked up in thought, recalling her time at the palace. She knew most of the servants treated her as if she was an extension of Nightmare Moon herself; bending over backwards to meet her desires. She didn't want them to do that, of course, but even the smallest of requests was met with frantic overenthusiasm. Those who she was more familiar with, like Salt Wind and Proud Song, treated her more like a normal child, though she had noticed they gave her a great deal of leeway and respect.

Even the foals treated her as something like a princess, though they kept their distance. Twilight thought that, had she been a proper princess, they would probably try to win her favour. But Grace had convinced them to despise her even more than they already did for her being a commoner, so despite whatever respect they gave her, Twilight could sense the simmering hatred underneath their candied words and polite airs. 

“Yeah, I guess you could say I am,” she answered. “If you think that being tip-hoofed around all the time is like a princess.”

“Well, I guess it sort of is, I suppose. I mean, don’t ponies tip-hoof around royalty all the time?”

She frowned. “Well, yeah, I mean they seem like they respect me, but I don’t think many of them actually like me! It’s like I’m like some kind of prized ornament, and if they scuff it they’ll get in trouble with the Empress.”

“Must be frustrating.”

“Yeah, it is, a little,” she shrugged. “I try to ignore it and not let them bother me. I mean, I have plenty of ponies who are nice enough to me, like Salt Wind and the Empress.”

“Yeah, but you should really have somepony you can be friends with… besides me, of course.”

“I’m fine though, I don’t need any more friends,” Twilight insisted.

He frowned at her response and opened his mouth for a second. Then his eyes briefly flashed with some kind of inexplicable sadness before he closed it. Twilight was about to ask him what was wrong before he began to speak. “How’s your new school?”

“Oh, um, it’s good. My studies are going well.”

“Aside from Practical Magic Application,” her friend interjected.

“Yes, aside from that,” she sighed, before continuing. “They’re much more advanced than the school we all went to before. Apparently, we should be several grades ahead of other ponies our age. We’ll be taking their equivalent of the GCEs at the end of the elementary school, when we’re thirteen.”

“What? That’s crazy! You’re too young to be doing those kinds of tests,” replied a shocked Orion. “When do you do the SATs, or whatever they use here, anyway?”

“Uh, fifteen, I think,” she answered. Seeing his face, she continued, pride rising in her voice. “Remember that the Academy is supposed to be for gifted students, so they’ll expect us to learn fast and pass all these exams.”

“I guess… though it doesn’t really give you much time to enjoy yourself or take it easy,” he said.

“School isn’t for taking it easy or enjoying yourself – at least, in the way you probably mean it,” she replied, quite tartly. “It’s for studying and learning, and the Academy is just so dedicated to it. I’m going to have so much fun there! I bet you’ll be coming to me for tutoring soon.”

Orion gave a short, slightly unenthused laugh before looking down silently and intently at his bowl. He had finished, eagerly shovelling down his food, but Twilight hadn’t yet. Twilight was getting worried again; she hadn't missed his brief looks of sadness. 

“Are you okay, Orion?” she asked, reaching out to him.

He looked up and immediately snapped out of his introspection, throwing up a shield of impassiveness. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he stressed. “Have you made any new friends at school?”

Twilight was taken aback by the sudden change of subject. “Uh… no, not yet. I mean it’s only just started and I’ve been busy trying to get the feel of the place.”

“Uhuh…” Orion sighed. “Just promise me you’ll make an effort finding some friends.”
She was about to tell him why exactly that would be hard for her to do before shaking the idea away. There wasn’t any point in troubling her friend. It seemed as though Orion already had some pretty heavy stuff on his mind. Instead she settled on saying, “I promise.”

They continued their dinner in thoughtful silence. Twilight wondered why everyone was so intent on her finding new friends. How many friends did a pony need? Besides, shouldn’t you only try and be friends with somepony that wants to be friends with you? These nights, it seemed like most ponies her age were either afraid of her or already disliked her. The only ones who didn’t were back at the orphanage.

When she finally finished, they took their dishes into the kitchen to find Salt Wind and Ram Sea in a full-blown fight. No physical blows were delivered, but the insults shouted across the kitchen were so scathing that Twilight was surprised they didn’t cause bodily harm. The two foals decided to leave their dirty plates on the counter and beat a hasty retreat from the kitchen.

“Well, that was… something,” she said as they walked along. Orion nodded in agreement. “So, what do you want to do now?”

The white-coated colt thought for a few moments before asking, “Is there a playground nearby?”

“Uh… yeah, there is. Why?”

He shrugged. “I just thought it would be nice for us to go and hang out down there. Maybe I could push you on the swings.”

She smiled at the thought. “Okay then. Follow me.”

The playground was easy to find. It was in the public part of the gardens, built for the children of the numerous officials that visited and worked in the palace, as well as any tourists that might be passing through. As with everything in the palace, it was made to impress. The jungle gym was a massive construction, with everything imaginable attached to its gargantuan frame. There were swings and slides and roundabouts galore, as well as all other manner of recreational equipment. Twilight considered herself a mature filly, but when she saw all this, her inner eight-year-old burst out. She rushed over to the playground to begin a long session of active fun. She was surprised when Orion followed in her revelry. I guess even colts that old want to cut loose sometimes, she figured.

Luckily for the both of them, the playground was empty at this time in the afternoon. With just reason, it seemed, as the clouds were getting larger and darker overhead. Still, they decided to go ahead and play, regardless of the worsening weather. 

Twilight took the lead, choosing activities and jumping from contraption to contraption. Orion half supervised and half played, seemingly content in just enjoying his friend’s own enjoyment. The little purple filly allowed herself one of the rare moments to relax and throw herself into the joys of a child’s playtime. Here with Orion in the empty playground her worries seemed to melt away. There was no school, no fear for the lack of friends or the need to impress her teacher. Any loneliness there was at the Academy now seemed trivial in the comfort of her friend’s company.

The two ended their games with Twilight resting on the swings, being pushed gently by Orion. It was now getting late; the Bright Moon beginning to lower itself below the horizon to make way for its duller face. The change to the evening were always subtle and passed by unnoticed the two foals until the clocks struck seven o’clock and the bells chimed out the late hour. 

Orion stopped pushing and looked forlornly to the face of the nearest clock. Twilight turned her head behind her to see him step away from the swings.

“Do you have to go now?” she asked him.

He nodded. “Wait here, I’ve got something I wanted to give you. I left it with some guards back at the gatehouse.”

She waited dutifully on the swing for the time it took for Orion to go to the gatehouse and back. Idly she swung back and forth, wondering what it was Orion had brought her. When the white colt came back at last carrying a saddlebag, Twilight hopped off the swing and trotted towards him. He sat down and zipped open his rucksack, carefully retrieving the object within as if it was some priceless treasure.

Twilight was surprised to find an odd little doll staring her in the face with mismatched button eyes. It was a simple grey thing with locks of hair like the tassels on the end of a rug. The only real elaborate part to the doll was a pair of blue polka-dot pants stitched onto the legs.

“It’s for you,” Orion explained. “I made it as a present for you.”

“It’s really good,” she said, gratefully taking the doll from Orion’s hooves. She cradled it for a moment before looking back up to the colt with a bemused expression. “Since when do you know how to sew?”

“Oh, uh, Miss Loch taught me it so I could fix my own clothing. She said it was a useful skill to know.” He grinned in recollection. “It took me too many tries before I finally got it right. Sorry it’s not much good.”

“No, no! It’s perfect!” Twilight cried, hugging the doll with as much sincerity as she could show. “I think I’ll call her Miss Smartypants.”

“Her? I kinda envisioned a colt when I made it.”

Twilight giggled. “Shouldn’t you have saved it for my birthday, anyway? Now you have to get me something extra special to beat this!” she teased.

“Your birthday… yeah,” Orion murmured. 

His face once again took on the melancholy, thoughtful look that had been popping up all day. Twilight frowned with concern for her friend. What was on his mind that was so bad? He became down when she mentioned anything about the future.

Her heart began to race as a terrible thought began to wriggle its way to the front of her mind. “O-Orion?”

His focus returned to her. “Hmm?”

“Is everything all right?” she asked, stepping towards him and placing a hoof on his arm. “You’ve been kind of distracted for a while and you keep on getting down like you keep thinking about something sad. Just because I’m eight doesn’t mean I’m stupid, Orion. I’ve noticed it.”

The lavender unicorn’s trepidation stretched the silence before his reply. Those thoughtful eyes kept looking away and back to her, until he closed them and gave a heavy sigh.

“I’m… I’m going away, Twilight,” he said at last. “For a long time.”

Twilight swallowed and asked in a small voice, “How long?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know. It’s not a vacation or anything, it’s… there’s a family that’s adopted me.”

“A-adopted?” she was shocked. The older foals were hardly ever adopted, and most had either left as soon as they reached majority or had grown too attached to the orphanage to want to leave.

“Yeah,” he continued, now with a small tinge of joy growing in his voice as he spoke and a small, sad smile came to his lips. “Miss Loch… she knows them; they’re good ponies. There… they have some foals too, kids my age.” The smile fell at once from his lips and the joy drained immediately from his voice. “But it won’t be the same without you.”

“But where are you going?” Twilight asked. “Can’t you come and visit me like you do now?”

“I… don’t know,” he said, hanging his head pathetically. “They live far away.”

“How far?”

“West, I think. In the borderlands. I don’t think I’ll be able to see y… visit you.”

“But what about letters? Can’t you still write to me?” she asked in desperation.

“I’ll try,” he said, his voice so heavy he was nearly mumbling. “I… I wish you could come with me.”

Twilight blinked and felt moisture run down her cheeks, but paid no heed. “I could… I mean, if I ask the Empress if I could quit and go back to the orph–”

“No!” he snapped suddenly, springing forward and gripping her shoulders. “You can’t give up all of this just for my sake. You’ve got something really good here, Twilight. Please, please don’t throw it away just for me.”

She leaned into him, her head resting against his chest. “It’s not just for your sake. I don’t know what I’d do if you’re gone. I have no one here but you.”

“No, Twilight,” he said softly, lifting up her head to look her in the eye. He gave her a small smile. “Like you said, you have all the ponies here, like Salt Wind and Nightmare Moon.”

“B-but you’re my only real friend,” she sniffled, burying her face in his fur again. “I… I love you.”

She felt Orion envelop her in a tighter hug, resting his chin on her shoulder. “I love you too,” he said, his voice shaking. “You’ve always been like… no, you are a little sister to me.”

Twilight didn’t know how long they stayed like that, but she hoped it had been hours. Anything to stay with her friend for just a little bit longer. At last the two separated, with Orion glancing at the clock.

“I have to go now,” he said. “I’m leaving tomorrow, and I have to pack.”

She swallowed painfully and nodded. “T-take care, Orion, and thanks for everything. Don’t forget to write.”

“I won’t,” he promised, giving her one last smile. “Goodbye, Twilight.”

With those final words, he turned and trotted into the palace, and she sat alone in the dark, empty playground as thunder rumbled off in the distance.

==========

The storm was in full swing now. Rain beat steadily against the window, driven by a fierce wind. Nightmare Moon sighed contentedly. The sound of the rain was quite soothing, wrapped up as she was in her warm silk gown. Her regalia lay on the dresser, the silver shoes exchanged  for soft, fluffy socks. Inside her room, with the fire crackling and tinting the room with a red glow, she was as cosy as she could be. 

The pegasi are really bringing Autumn in hard this year, she thought. Lighting flashed, followed soon by the low growl of thunder.

She turned the page of her book. It was a tale of sweet romance and thrilling drama, with a young heroine locked in a dilemma of taboo love with her family’s enemy. Nightmare Moon hadn’t read it in decades, having commissioned the work from a great poet some centuries ago. It was one-of-a-kind, and often she thought she should have it published, but there was a secret joy in having a story solely for her – she, who had surprisingly few personal, private treasures just for her own enjoyment.

The Empress shifted on her cushion by the fire and lifted a nearby glass of wine to her lips. It wasn’t the vintage so often favoured by her chancellor, but one far rarer, silkier, and much older. Fruity and nutty and oh so delicious, Nightmare Moon licked her lips after her sip. She had decided to pamper herself this evening, after a long week of negotiations with the griffons. 

It seemed that they had the idea that her nation had continually insulted theirs and ignored their claim to the Western Wilds. The Empress had no idea they had previously tried to push a claim, though now that she thought about it, she found she didn’t care one bit if they did. The memory of the bloody war with the griffons a century ago was still fresh in her mind; she was determined to give not one inch of land to those feathered savages.

That didn’t change the facts on the ground, however. Despite Equestria’s control over the desirable northern territories bordering the griffon kingdoms, griffons still settled in droves in the Wilds, establishing their own mining towns in the peaks that only a pegasus could reach – and it was a rare pegasus who cared to dig in the earth for a living. Worse still, the griffons had established a military outpost on the coast just outside Equestrian control, determined to prevent any further westward expansion of her empire.

No progress had been made in the talks. The situation was infuriatingly delicate and, Nightmare was afraid, could easily devolve into war. In the old days, she would have simply led the charge and vanquished her foes with a power that could crush mountains. But then the Stalliongrad Accord had been signed. The brainchild of Konnica’s Koshchey the Deathless, it drew in many nations to pledge immediate war and destruction on Equestria should Nightmare Moon personally do battle against mortals. So now she had to be rely upon the strength of her people rather than herself to deter potential enemies.

But now is no time for these thoughts, she reminded herself. All she had to focus on was the trials and times of Everdew and her love Sparrowhawk. The fire now was hot on her covered skin, uncomfortably so, and Nightmare Moon cast a quick spell of cooling to dull the hearth. She sighed as the temperature returned to a more acceptable level and further reclined on her cushion as thunder rolled against the windowpane.

The sound of a muffled shriek tore through the calm atmosphere of her room and her peace of mind. The alicorn bolted upright, her ears already twitching toward the source of the noise. A frigid shock of dread rolled down her spine as she realised that it had come from Twilight’s room. Nightmare Moon shot to her hooves, her door slamming open as she half-ran, half-flew toward the disturbance.  In her cotton socks and desperation, the alicorn slipped and skidded on the smooth wooden floorboards outside her quarters. Each stroke of her wings seemed to take long seconds, and the width of the hallway stretched as if taunting her to arrive too late.

She hurled open her student’s door and plunged through, her horn already burning with a dozen powerful spells and curses. Who dares harm my child? she thought, rage barely smothering terror for the safety of her student. Any intruder she found would wish the Empress had killed him, if anything had happened to Twilight. 

The room was cold and dark, lit only by the occasional flashes of lighting from the storm raging outside. The doors to the balcony hung wide open, flailing and banging in the wind. The floor beneath them was soaked with rainwater and the thunder that had been a faint, distant growl in her room roared its full fury here. 

For a single, dreadful moment, the room was silent save for the storm’s clamour. Nightmare Moon’s heart raced in her throat as her eyes fell on the bed. The blankets were a rumpled mess, but unmistakeably tangled around an unmoving lump in the middle.

Relief came as another loud crash of thunder summoned a whimper from the bed. Twilight Sparkle curled up tighter in her covers, shivering and sobbing. That fear extinguished, the Empress spun toward the rest of the room. Is anypony else in here? The idea of such audacity brought forth her temper anew, and with a glare as steely as the executioner’s blade, she scanned the room for any intruders. Nothing. Satisfied she and Twilight were alone, the Empress went at once to the filly, closing the doors with a thought as she did. Gently, she touched the unicorn and called to her.

“Twilight? Don’t be afraid,” she said, her tone soft and soothing. “What’s wrong?”

Slowly, her student emerged from the ball she had wrapped herself in and looked blearily up at her teacher. The filly was a mess: her hair ragged, her eyes red from crying, the fur on her cheek matted and stained with tears. 

“I… I…” she choked and then turned her head in shame. “It was just a… a bad dream. Sorry for disturbing you.”

The Empress let out a slow breath, her limbs nearly shaking in reaction to her fear. “Nonsense,” the she declared, picking Twilight up with her magic. “Come to my room, Twilight. It’s much warmer there.”

Her little apprentice squeaked her protests, but they were ignored by the mare. She took the filly to her room and closed the doors behind them before placing her on the bed. 

“Wait here while I get you a glass of water,” she commanded in the same gentle, careful tone. The filly just sat in silence as the Empress took her wineglass and trotted to the bathroom. The alicorn stared in her mirror for a while, looking at her own tired reflection, asking it silently, pleadingly for advice. For all her years, she had no experience with anything like this. Was she right in bringing the foal to her room? Should she just send her back to bed as soon as possible? After all, it was just a dream. No, she thought. Dreams were important; she of all ponies should know this. Dreams were her realm, and as such, any problems with them should fall under her care. Gentle. Be as gentle as the moonlight. She smiled with growing confidence at her reflection. After all, am I not the moon herself? 

She brought the glass to her lips and threw her head back, downing the wine. There was a brief pang of regret at gulping the venerable spirit so quickly, but that was a lamentation quickly snuffed out. She had greater concerns for the moment. Rinsing it out, she filled it with water and went back to Twilight. 

Her student was the picture of confusion: already tired and frightened, she seemed tiny in the overly grand and forbidden room of the immortal Empress of Equestria, being nursed by the self-same mare. An environment and situation that was perhaps almost unimaginable to a filly like Twilight, who – it was apparent to Nightmare Moon – looked on the alicorn as an idol, out of reach despite their physical closeness.

She went back to the shaken child and laid down on the bed next to her. The filly took the glass and gratefully gulped it down. After she had finished, Nightmare Moon took it from her and put it to the side. Twilight kept her head low, sitting in a drooping, sullen pose that radiated humiliation. She looked as though she would go back to curling up in a ball surrounded by a protective cocoon of bedding any second. 

“There’s no need to be upset anymore, I am here for you,” the Empress said after a while. “Now tell me; what’s the matter?”

“I was having a bad dream,” Twilight repeated in a voice of disbelief. She looked about ready to stop, but after looking back at Nightmare Moon, she gave a sigh and pushed on, trying to shake off the shame that was hinted in her tone. “Then... I guess the storm woke me up. I heard the balcony doors bang open… I think I forgot to lock them. I… I’ve never been scared of thunder before, but it was all just so sudden...”

Nightmare Moon gave her a motherly nuzzle, much to the little filly’s surprise. “You’re all right now, little one. Do you want to talk about it?”

Twilight bent her head, biting her lip in stubborn, embarrassed reluctance, still obviously upset. The Empress knew her student prided herself on her maturity, and she realized after a moment that the filly was ashamed to have been so affected by ‘just’ a dream. With an embrace, a whisper and a hopeful smile from her mentor, the filly eventually acceded in Nightmare’s suggestion and closed her eyes, trying to remember her dream. In her recollection, tears spilled anew and she blinked them back to no avail. 

Swallowing the lump in her throat, Twilight began barely above a whisper. “I was walking in the palace, and everyone was there; Salt Wind, Proud Song, Miss Loch and everypony from the orphanage, even Mister Inquisitor and Sir Silverstar. They were all ignoring me, and when I tried to talk to them, they just walked away and disappeared and…” Twilight blinked again, new tears slipping down her cheeks. “I tried looking for you, but you were gone and Orion was there and then he just turned away and left and I… I was all alone. The whole world was empty.”

She finished the room was silent save for the crackle of the fire. Nightmare Moon digested this, thinking of her experiences exploring the dreams of her subjects. Though they were often little more than garbled chains of events and meaningless imagery, they sometimes reflected the dreamer’s inmost thoughts and fears. Even without seeing Twilight’s dream in person, the source of the nightmare seemed clear enough from the filly’s description. 

“Twilight?” she began, delicately, as if she was stepping on ice. “Are you feeling… lonely?”

“I… I don’t know,” the filly admitted. “I mean, it’s silly, everypony treats me so well here and–”

A black hoof went to Twilight’s lips, silencing her. “No, it is not silly. Not at all. A pony can be surrounded by others and still, in their heart, feel alone. What do you think you are missing, child?”

At this, Twilight muffled a sob and tried to shake away her tears, but it was like pushing away an ocean. “Orion…” she choked.

The Empress frowned questioningly. “That colt from the orphanage?”  Twilight nodded. Nightmare Moon stared. Surely this girl was too young to be having boy troubles? Then again, love did come differently to all.

“He… he’s gone,” the little lavender unicorn went on, squeezing the words out between sobs. “I don’t think I’ll see him again! He was my only real friend… He called me his sister…”

“Oh...” It started to dawn on the alicorn what this was about, but she allowed her student to continue.

“All my life I’ve been fine on my own,” she went on, speaking as though the realisation was just coming to her. “Ponies like Miss Loch have helped me and cared for me, but I’ve never really been that close to them. I haven’t really had a friend or a family. But then Orion came and, even though it’s been less than a year since I met him, I feel like I’ve known him all my life. I think… I think I didn’t realize that he’s been more like a brother than anything else. And now he’s gone… I’ve lost the only family–”

Twilight broke down into a wailing mess, and Nightmare reacted instinctively, pulling the filly to her bosom. She stroked her mane and whispered soothing nonsense to her young ward. Inside her own head, Nightmare Moon fought resurgent emotions and memories for composure. Twilight’s words had awakened old regrets and longings in her that she often tried to keep supressed. Desires for a family; her own long gone, either dead or forever separated. Now more than ever, in this young child’s despair and loneliness, she felt a kinship with her student. She wanted to hold the filly for as long as possible and cry with her and bond through their shared desires. For Twilight’s sake, she kept a lid on those urges and mentally vowed to remain the filly’s rock; calm, comforting and collected. 

“Twilight, listen to me,” she said, after Twilight had calmed down and they broke off the embrace. Her voice was gentle but firm and she lowered her head to look the filly in the eye. “You are not alone, not anymore. Your friend may be gone, but that does not mean you have no family. The palace has become your home, and I think that we at the palace can become your family. Why, I have seen the way Proud Song acts as if you were his little sister when you are left in his care, and it seems to me that you spend enough time with that… Salt Wind mare for her to be like an aunt or big sister to you.”

Slowly, the corners of Twilight’s mouth rose by the smallest of a fraction in a tired smile. “I… I guess I can look at it like that. Sir Silverstar likes to tell me stories like an old grandpa would.”

Nightmare nodded. “We are all here for you, my faithful student.” She brushed the tears from the filly’s eyes and said in a firm voice, “I promise you: you will never be alone again.”

A thoughtful silence settled across the room in the wake of her proclamation. Twilight’s sad, tired smile gradually grew, and she eventually leaned into Nightmare Moon’s neck. “Thank you, Empress. Thank you so much for… for everything. Thank you for taking me in and letting me be your student. Thank you for caring for me.”

The Empress smiled softly. “Don’t mention it, Twilight. It has been a pleasure to have you here for these past months. You are a special filly; you will achieve great things, I am sure of it.”

A new film of moisture came to Twilight’s eyes, but this time Nightmare recognised them as tears of joy. The filly gratefully nuzzled into the mare and sighed in contentment. “Why don’t you get comfy while I read us a story?” the mare asked.

Nightmare Moon turned to her one-of-a-kind book, which had landed next to the fireplace when she bolted for Twilight’s room, and brought it over to them with her magic. Meanwhile, Twilight had manoeuvred herself under the duvet and waited, exhausted but excited, for her mentor to begin. Opening the book to the first page, the Empress cleared her throat and whisked them away to a new world of love, betrayal and adventure.

When Nightmare Moon had read through several chapters, she decided to stop. She had thought a bedtime story would lull the little filly back into a gentle slumber, but Twilight was still wide awake, captivated by the tale in spite of her yawns. Thankfully, her distress seemed to have passed.

“It is getting late, so I think I will end it there,” the Empress said, setting the book on the bedside table. When the Twilight’s face fell, Nightmare offered a conciliatory smile. “I can read it to you again tomorrow evening, if you want. But now, a little filly such as yourself needs a good night’s sleep. So close your eyes and go to sleep.”

The filly looked up questioningly at her mentor, surprised at her command. “But, Empress, this is your bed. I can’t sleep here.”

“You can if I allow it. Your room is damp and cold, and besides, I imagine you are already quite comfortable where you are.”

“Th-thank you, Empress!” Twilight smiled and snuggled down into a cosier position. She then turned back to Nightmare Moon. “Oh… Empress?”

“Yes?”

She smiled and said, rather shyly. “I like your socks. They look… comfy.”

The Empress gave a small laugh of surprise at the filly’s remark and leaned down to nuzzle her. “Thank you, little one.” 

The unicorn closed her eyes and relaxed with drowsy determination. Nightmare Moon was content to leave her student to nod off, but then a new thought struck her. Something that she had always wanted to do, but never had the chance; a desire she hadn’t had since her time with Winter Storm. 

“Twilight?” 

“Mmm?”

“Would you… like me to sing you a lullaby to help you sleep?” she asked tentatively.

“’Kay,” Twilight mumbled dreamily.

Nightmare Moon smiled and, closing her eyes, drew herself up and raised her muzzle to the starry ceiling. She looked through her mind’s eye at ancient memories of a blue mare with a silken mane of liquid silver and a voice to match. Of times of innocence and comfort and love, all brought back by the angelic tones the alicorn did her best to emulate. As she finished composing herself, she opened her mouth to sing:

“Sleep now, child, beneath the moon,
Sleep here, beside my hearth.
Wander to peaceful lands of dream,
And touch the face of the stars.

“Cast thy soul to the heavens,
Cast thy cares to the sea.
If the dark dream seems endless,
Just remember me,
Just remember me.

“Sleep now, favoured child of night,
Sleep and quietly dream.
Forget crumbled hopes, etched with tears,
Rise beyond these earthly cares.

“Sleep until the sun rises,
When daybreak beckons thee.
Greet the new day before you,
And remember me,
And remember me.”

As the last note of the old family lullaby faded, Nightmare looked down to find Twilight sleeping soundly. She smiled in satisfaction. I haven’t sung that since I taught it to Winter Storm, she thought. A new weariness washed over her, and the Empress decided that she, too, should sleep. Shedding her robe, she settled down on the bed, lying her head next to Twilight’s, and followed her student into the realm of dreams.
> Airs and Graces
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Airs and Graces


Twilight was grateful for the short trip from the Academy to her room in the palace. She spent a hard night bearing the passive-aggressive, exclusive attitude of Grace and Bluebloods’ respective cliques and avoiding them where she could, spending her recesses isolated in the library. She was looking forward to a quick retreat to her bed and a good book to pass the evening. She was even more grateful that the Empress had Proud Song accompany her to and from the Academy during the weeks after the night Orion left.

Proud Song was waiting patiently for her in the courtyard of the Academy as she trotted out of the preparatory school. The bat-winged pony gave her a smile as she trotted up to him, loosening her tie with magic.

“How was your night, Lady Sparkle?” he asked as they started off the Academy campus.

She returned the smile, though hers was a little thin. “Good… exhausting. Miss Springtime took me aside from the rest of the class so I could try working on my focus and power safety while everypony did other spells. I think I need a shower.”

He laughed. “I remember my time at boot camp. Talk to me about ‘exhausting’ after you’ve gone through a few weeks of old Staff Sergeant Prickle’s training from Tartarus.”

“What was it like?” 

A nonchalant shrug was his response. “About as much as you’d expect, lots of exercise and drills and training. Oh, and shouting. Lots and lots of shouting.” A nostalgic smile tugged at Proud Song’s lips. “If Prickle wasn’t such an a… a jerk to everypony, I think I’d have been singled out by the others more than I already was.”

The filly creased her brow in confusion. “What do you mean by that?”

“Oh, well, some ponies aren’t used to thestrals like me, and many fear us for our beliefs and our appearance,” he said, explaining the prejudice of ponies as if he were talking about the weather. “Some of the other stallions in boot camp… let’s just say they didn’t exactly like me. Luckily, military training helps to hammer that sort of thing out of us, and Prickle provided a common enemy for everypony to unite against.”

Twilight’s confused, scrunched face warped into a frown. “That’s… that’s despicable! Just because of the way you look? It’s like Blueblood being mean to my friend because he was a common earth pony…” she deflated a little at the memory of Orion, but her anger was a distraction. “It’s stupid, anyway. We’re all ponies, so what difference does it make if somepony has bat wings instead of feathered wings or no wings at all, and just believe different stuff? It’s like if every pony with a red coat started hating every pony with a blue coat, or something.”

The Honour Guard chuckled. “Believe me, Lady Sparkle, I am in complete agreement with you. I suppose some ponies can just be naturally stupid and ignorant, but it’s usually how they’re raised. My mother taught me not to hate non-thestral ponies unless they really deserved it.”

“That’s good.” she smiled.

“Anyway…” the bat-winged pony said in the stretched tone of one who wanted to change the subject. “How do you like the school uniform? I suppose that you didn’t wear anything like that in the school you went to before coming to the palace.”

Twilight rubbed the brown woollen sweater-vest thoughtfully. “No… but I kind of like it, especially since it’s getting colder.”

“And you look very cute in it,” the stallion quipped, smirking.

She blushed at his compliment and looked away, muttering, “Th-thanks.”

They eventually passed into the palace gardens. As usual, the gardens were filled with ponies of all kinds: tourists gawking at everything in sight, groundskeepers roving with the tools of their trade, and officials either wandering in private conversations or marching with purpose, using the gardens as a thoroughfare. Twilight loved the gardens, and though the willow grove was her favourite place to unwind, she could find peace in meandering along any of its twisting paths.

“Sir Proud Song?”

“Yes, Lady Sparkle?”

“Would you... would you like to take a walk in the gardens with me?” she asked, lowering her face a little so he would not see her blush. “I know you’re probably busy and you want to get back to work, but I was thinking it would be nice to–”

He flashed a handsome smile. “My lady, I would love to continue to walk with you for a little while longer. After all, you are such a nice filly, and Her Majesty asked me to accommodate you as much as I can. Besides, all I have waiting for me after this is a mountain of paperwork.”

Together they made an abrupt rightward turn and ambled deeper into the gardens. Autumn was now visible in the slowly bronzing leaves, which lent a new atmosphere to the garden. Certain flowers were curling up, readying themselves for the coming winter, while others were just beginning to bloom. Twilight had learned from the Inquisitor that the palace was filled with plants that bloomed in different stages of the year, so there would always be colour and beauty in the gardens. 

“What was it like in your old home?” Twilight asked.

Proud Song looked down. “Do you mean Covenburg?”

“Uh-huh.”

He shrugged. “Like any city, I guess, though it wasn’t much of a tourist destination. Actually, hah, that’s an understatement. Nopony visits Covenburg.”

“You said it was like Cloudsdale, right? 

“Good memory. And while it’s true you get flightless ponies visiting Cloudsdale – cloud-walking spells are usually given away by the tourist board – Covenburg pretty much segregates itself from the rest of Equestria.”

“What?” Twilight was confused. Why would any place deliberately cut themselves off from the rest of the Empire, from tourists and visitors? “How come?”

“Well, thestrals are… proud, you could say,” Proud Song sighed and shook his head. “And scared, too, I guess. There’s not a lot of good history between us and the rest of the Empire. In ages past, when disaster struck, ponies often blamed us and ki… chased us out of their towns. The Empress tried to stop it, but it didn’t help. We’ve had a long history of conflict because of our beliefs and looks.”

“So it’s like before Equestria united,” the filly suggested. “Like when unicorns and pegasi and earth ponies distrusted each other.”

“Yes, something like that. We’re supposed to be the same people – one Equestrian nation – but I guess some ponies don’t see it like that. Even quite a few thestrals seem to think we’re some kind of chosen people because the Lord of Light created us. They get pretty insistent about that part, which doesn’t help things.” 

“So I guess all this bad blood hasn’t really been forgotten.”

The guard nodded. “I remember my grandfather telling me of his foalhood in Manehatten. He was teased, ostracised and even robbed, and the police didn’t help him all that much, if you know what I mean.” His lips curled into a frown as continued. “It happened… happens in Covenburg too. There was a pegasus family in my neighbourhood back when I was a colt. There were some vicious arguments, and they were pretty much shunned by the community for who they were and for disagreeing with the city’s beliefs. They moved away after their house had a brick thrown through its window.”

Twilight gasped. “That’s terrible.”

“Ponies are like that, I guess.” Proud Song shrugged. “There’s no changing them, no matter how hard you try.”

They continued their walk in thoughtful silence. Twilight wanted to enjoy the company and the beautiful garden, but their conversation had stained her mind with unpleasant thoughts on the nature of ponies. It seemed so easy for them to become prejudiced bullies; even she had almost succumbed to such dark impulses. She shivered, unpleasant memories of her own cruelty toward others flooding back. Thank heavens Nightmare Moon caught me when she did.

As they rambled through the garden, Twilight tried to distract herself from these unpleasant thoughts by focussing on Proud Song. The guard was tall but not bulky, and he looked quite young compared to many of the more veteran Honour Guards who stood on duty around the palace. The filly marvelled at the way his well-muscled legs and neck flexed as he walked. He did not notice, and her gaze ran up his chiselled jaw to admire the roguish cast lent by his ragged ears and inequine eyes. She remembered back when she first met him; there had been a maid who rejected his advances. For the life of her, Twilight couldn’t understand why a mare would do that. He was, she thought, exceptionally handsome.

The silent presence of the young captain gave her time to think, and think about him rather than any subject of idle talk. Not for the first time, butterflies seemed to fill her stomach. It was similar to what she had felt when that white deer visited. When Proud Song looked at her, his eyes meeting her own, Twilight immediately tore her gaze away from him and fought to quell a growing blush, hoping he hadn’t realised she was staring.

“Are you well, Lady Sparkle?” he asked. When Twilight risked a glance to the handsome soldier, she found he was smiling so comfortably that it only made her heart flutter more.

“Uh, no, I…” her eyes darted around, falling on a busy side-entrance into the palace they had come upon. Aha, Escape! “I’ve just remembered I have to go to a dinner with the Empress and the Bluebloods!”

“Oh,” the thestral grimaced. “That doesn’t sound particularly fun.”

“It’s not,” she sighed, mostly out of relief; this conversation distracted her from any butterfly-inducing thoughts. “But the Empress wanted me to come with her.”

“Would you like me to escort you back to the Royal Apartments?”

“No! Uh, no. I’m fine from here,” Twilight said. “Thank you, Sir Proud Song, for keeping me company.”

“It was my duty and my pleasure, Lady Sparkle,” he said, the genial, smooth smile that made the filly’s heart skip a beat coming back to his face.

She nodded and he bowed before turning around and walking off deeper into the gardens, no doubt trying to find his way back to the barracks. The little filly continued onwards through the door, squeezing past a few of the ponies using it as a thoroughfare.

The door led into a hallway Twilight was familiar with – a row of empty rooms used for storage and as offices for official visitors. After taking a moment to orient herself, she set off briskly towards her goal: the Royal Apartments to get ready for an afternoon being “entertained” by the Bluebloods.

It was an unfortunate fact of life that, as Empress, Twilight’s mentor had to frequently observe the framework of Equestrian politics and maintain pleasantries with ponies of interest. So Nightmare Moon had explained to the little filly, sympathising with her discomfort at having to sit through an afternoon with the Bluebloods, though not to the point that she was excused from the dinner. Apparently, as Twilight recalled dourly, she needed to establish more of a rapport with ponies like Duke Blueblood and his son.

When she reached the Royal Apartments, she found Nightmare Moon in the dressing room. It was a massive circular room with every space filled with cupboards, wardrobes and the odd mirror or two. Every container was in turn filled with some item of clothing or accessory. The great alicorn was sitting on a divan with half a dozen servants at work around her like drones tirelessly attending the queen of a bee hive, only these servants gossiped among themselves as if the Empress wasn’t even there. 

“Twilight, you are late,” she said disapprovingly, her tone effective in spite of the odd image of Nightmare Moon surrounded by a gaggle of nattering hoofmaidens.

“I’m sorry, Empress.” She bowed her head with a due degree of humility, but didn’t offer an explanation.

“Nevermind,” the Empress waved a dismissive hoof. “Just sit down and let the maids dress you.”

Twilight did as she was told, taking the smaller empty divan next to the alicorn. Immediately, two of the maids finished their current task with Nightmare Moon and moved to the filly. Her school uniform was quickly shed and the two mares set about brushing and buffing her coat.

“I know this is your first dinner with nobility, but I expect you to be on your best behaviour,” Nightmare Moon said.

“I understand. Don’t worry, I won’t let you down.”

The alicorn simply nodded and the silence remained unbroken whilst the maids finished dressing the Empress and her student. When shown herself in the mirror, Twilight stared, wide-eyed. The bookish student who had just come back from a hard night at school was gone, replaced by this perfect picture of a well-to-do pre-debutante noblefilly. Part of Twilight refused to believe that this was her reflection, and then started to quake at the thought of going out dressed in such a superfluous manner. So many people would be staring, and judging. She much preferred quiet, studious solitude to awkward social situations like that.

Her Brayzantine purple dress was light and breathed well, with the ruffled skirts and hems tinged with pale rose. Her collar, smooth and primly closed, pleasingly complimented her tied and braided mane. It was an odd look on her. Twilight never had any experience with bound or braided hair; a straight, neatly-trimmed mane had always been her preferred style.

Had the transformation happened to one of her old friends at the orphanage, like Moondancer, it would have left them swooning and simpering at how they looked. Twilight, though, could feel doubts nibbling at the edges of her excitement. She couldn’t help thinking of it all as a disguise of sorts.   

She turned to Nightmare Moon, who had surprisingly little done to her appearance. Her coat had been buffed and brushed to perfection, and there was a dusting of make-up here and there, but other than, that she wore her usual regalia with the addition of a rich silk shawl draped across her withers and a pair of shining crescent earrings.

“Twilight, you look wonderful!” Nightmare Moon said, giving her a merry smile. “It is nice to have a change of pace, don’t you agree?”

“Yes, very.” The filly gazed appreciatively in the mirror before turning to the maids. “Thank you, you both did a great job.”

The maids smiled their thanks and, at their cue from the Empress, left the dressing room and the Royal Apartments. The alicorn mare bid Twilight wait with her for a while, allowing the maids to get well on their way before they departed for Blueblood’s residence. This was only a short trip out the main door and across the residential area’s common hall. Twilight was grateful that it was empty at that point in the night, save for the guards that stood at attention and the odd servant passing through. She would rather not be the subject of stares by any ponies, walking as she was with the Empress, the both of them obviously dressed for a special occasion.

The Empress led her swiftly to the door to the Bluebloods’ residence. Grasping the ornate knocker with her magic, Nightmare Moon declared their arrival with a succession of taps that, though rather light, echoed loudly in the vaulted hall. The door swung silently open almost instantly. They were greeted by a neatly moustachioed peach-coloured stallion. Blue mane combed in a tidy parting, he wore a tuxedo and an expression of stony politeness. 

“Your Majesty,” he said, bowing deeply. “His Highness, Prince Blueblood, Duke of Canterlot, is in the waiting parlour.”

Nightmare Moon nodded and they were brought to a room that seemed perhaps the most typical upper-class parlour imaginable. Everything was antique, or at least seemed to be, and the seating was organised around a magnificent roaring fireplace. Every inch of wall, mantelpiece, and shelf were stuffed with ornaments and paintings. Even the bookshelves seemed more decorative than functional, holding more statuettes and odd little pots and plates than anything of actual practical value. It was a large room; strangely large for an apartment within the palace, but Twilight assumed that the nobles would not stand for anything smaller. The fire cast long shadows over the floorboards and the rug, all the way up to the walls, shadows of furniture and many pony figures.

One was the unmistakable form of Duke Blueblood, wearing as immaculate a suit as he ever wore, complete with a sash and the crest of his house along with several other merits and awards. Beside him was a light lilac-coated mare with a towering blonde beehive of curls for a mane. Her purple eyes were framed by deeper purple mascara and elegantly curled eyelashes. She complimented her husband’s suit with a refined yet quite simple blue dinner gown of a neoclassical design. 

Beside the pair was the younger Blueblood and, to Twilight’s surprise, another foal. They both wore outfits to match their parents; Twilight begrudgingly admitted that Blueblood looked rather dapper in his well-tailored dinner suit. The filly, who she assumed was his sister, looked to be around Twilight’s age. Unlike the rest of her family, her mane was not blonde. Instead, it was cyan and white, sculpted into an ornate series of large, spiralled waves that curled from the nape of her neck to the sudden upward curve of her bangs. Twilight did her best not to glare at the filly with a suspicious gaze. What she had seen so far from this family was not flattering; would this filly be like her brother and father?

There were others who stood at a respectful distance to either side of the host family, five in total, and all but one looked like nobles. The tell-tale signs were in the way they held themselves, brimming with confidence and careful, genial politeness, and in their adherence to the elaborate fashions of the capital. The two mares had their manes styled into elaborate spectacles of swirls and curls; straight hair, it seemed, was anathema to Canterlot’s elite. Their dresses were similar in design to Blueblood’s wife, though each with their own unique twist. It appeared that the style was in vogue this year. And, like Blueblood’s wife, they wore what Twilight thought to be an abundance of makeup and jewellery, though likely it was nothing too ostentatious for the nobility. 

Two of the stallions were paired with the mares, and wore tuxedos similar in nature to the Duke. Twilight could not identify them according to the crests on their sashes, however, and quickly resolved herself to finding out more about the magnates of Equestria, if only for her mentor’s sake. Somehow, she suspected she would be attending more of these kinds of dinners. 

The other stallion did not wear a tuxedo. Instead, he wore a military dress uniform that was not unlike the one usually preferred by Silverstar. His cadet grey tunic was relieved by a crimson sash that contrasted not unpleasantly against the stallion’s palomino coat and tightly cropped white mane. He wore a full beard that was tidy and neatly groomed, reaching out from his chin by no more than an inch but thick enough to bounce a bit coin off of. He looked tired, she noticed, with the weariness of a long, hard life – perhaps coupled with the tedium of too many dinners like this one.

Blueblood led a deep room-wide bow to the Empress and welcomed her graciously and humbly into his home. The lilac unicorn mare then stepped forward.

“Hello, Miss Twilight Sparkle,” she said with all the graceful airs of a proper noblemare. “I have heard so many good things about you from my husband and son. Allow me to introduce myself; I am Duchess Lyrica Heartstrings, and this,” she beckoned the mint green filly to her side, “Is my daughter, Lady Lyra Heartstrings.”

As proper as her mother, Lyra bobbed her head formally and offered Twilight an empty smile. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Twilight Sparkle,” she said near tonelessly, as if she were merely reciting lines. 

Twilight did her best to reciprocate, smiling and bowing her head as the filly had done. “The pleasure is mine. It is good to meet you both; and thank you for inviting me for dinner.”

From the corner of her eye, the little lavender unicorn saw the Empress smile and nod ever so slightly in approval. Twilight’s heart soared. Propriety and decorum seemed to be the cornerstone of the evening, and the filly vowed to impress her mentor by acting as stately as was possible.

She was then introduced to the other guests. It was certainly cosmopolitan: each of the couples represented one of the three tribes. 

“Baron Flintpoint and Baroness Pink Lady Apple,” the Duke pronounced, gesturing to a blue earth pony stallion and a pink mare. “You may have heard of their bravery against the buffalo raiding out of the badlands beyond Dodge Junction, in honour of which the Empress granted them title over those lands.” The earth ponies bowed and murmured their own greetings, but their smiles looked a touch strained after Duke Blueblood’s explanation. 

The Duke didn’t deign to notice, though, and moved on to the pegasus pair without pause. He indicated the purple mare, whose golden mane fell in tumbling curls past her shoulders. “This is Lieutenant Commander Vaingloria, Countess of the Northern Reaches, Secundus of the Assembly of Officers, Successor of the Lord Protector of Lost Pegasopolis. And this,” he said, his hoof shifting to the ivory and red stallion by her side, “is Major Aide-de-Camp, Count of the Northern Reaches.”

“It is a great pleasure, Miss Sparkle,” Vaingloria said with a broad grin. “We have heard so very much about you.”

“Um, thank you,” Twilight said, wondering exactly what they had heard. “It’s nice to meet you too.”

Duke Blueblood turned at last to the stallion in the dress uniform. “And may I present Sir Arcturus Bear-Bane, famed knight-errant and a true hero of the land,” Blueblood gestured to the palomino unicorn, who bowed his head graciously to the little filly. 

“It is an honour to meet the apprentice of Her Majesty the Empress,” the knight said, offering her a genteel smile. “It is quite curious, my son has a cutie mark similar to yours – a purple star emblazoned on a shield. Let me guess: the spark of magic?”

Twilight nodded enthusiastically. “Magic is my special talent.”

“Ah, then similar to my boy, though his is more of a knack for defensive magic… or is it using magic to defend the weak?” he shook his head. “In any case, it is lovely to meet you.”

“Likewise!” Twilight said.

“And speaking of your son,” Vaingloria put in, “I heard that he may enter the jousts this year. Commander Javelin announced in the Assembly that…”

After the initial introductions, the adults gravitated towards the fireplace, affecting a wall of maturity that segregated them from the children. Twilight only caught snippets of their conversation: a mix of banal discourse about the state of Equestrian politics, politely curious questions regarding the Blueblood household and rather tame gossip on the nobility. At first, she did her best to position herself as far from the Blueblood foals as was politely possible but, much to her surprise, Prince Blueblood trotted up to her soon after the adults started talking.

“It is my obligation to entertain you until dinner is ready,” he said, quite neutrally. “Would you like a tour of our home?” 

“Um… yes, that would be very pleasant, thank you.” Twilight knew there was little else to do until dinner started.

The junior Blueblood led her to his sister, who was quietly waiting for them near the door, evidently preparing to leave the grown-ups to grown-up things. Twilight wondered whether she needed to keep up the formality whilst the Empress was not paying attention.

“You have a lovely home,” she said as she met the unicorn filly, deciding that was as good a starting point as any.

Lyra looked like she was about to say something, but Blueblood was the first to speak. “It is, isn’t it? Refurbished over generations, I am sure it outshines those palace residences of our peers.” He sniffed abruptly. “Though it does not compare to our main family estate in Canterford.”

Blueblood’s sister swallowed. “Though I am sure the Royal Apartments are more impressive than this.”

Twilight wasn’t sure whether her insider’s view would come off as generous or boastful, so she simply asked, “Have you never been inside?”

“No, nopony ever goes in there except for the Empress and her maids and guards,” Lyra said quietly, before frowning slightly. “Until you came.”

Twilight didn’t know whether to take her words and frown as simple confusion and curiosity, or as a sign of distrust and bitterness towards her. She wasn’t given much time to contemplate Lyra’s mien, as Blueblood interjected in a lowered, conspiratorial voice, “Actually, I have heard that the Inquisitor is allowed inside.” His eyes darted to the adults, checking if they had overheard, before coming back to Twilight. “They say he even visits in the late evenings on occasion.”

Twilight judged, from his prompting expression and the way he let the words hang in the air between them, there was supposed to be something scandalous about what he just said. The young filly tried to wrap her head around what that could be. After all, the Inquisitor was the Chancellor; it made sense for him to be able to meet with the Empress at any time, night or evening. 

“Well, he does come talk to the Empress once in a while,” she offered. apparently sensing that the implications were lost on her, Blueblood tutted quietly to himself.

The young noblepony then led them out of the room after a courteous word to his parents and begging the Empress for leave. His taking charge was quite obvious in firm declarations of which room they were in and stiff explanations as to a particular item that Twilight showed interest in. If his sister minded this, she did not show it. The filly was rather timid and seemed to take upon a submissive role in the dynamics of both the duties of hosting and their sibling relationship.

“This torc was found by our great grandmother on Father’s side, Duchess Light Hoof, who was a noted patron of archaeology and antiquities.” 

The torc in question was crafted from what looked to be granite from its pattern, but a closer inspection revealed that it was, in fact, some kind of metal. Set in the middle of the necklace was a gold band, holding a centrepiece that Twilight thought was a diamond. 

“See that metal?” Blueblood continued, casual as he talked, though Twilight noted there was a hint of actual interest in his voice. “That is meteorite metal, and the jewel you see is no jewel at all. It is pure water. One-hundred percent chemically pure, in fact; painstakingly made so by magic. It is crystallised and held in place by magic, as well. I recall that it dates back before the Pre-Classical Era, to the time of alicorns.”

Twilight couldn’t help but get excited at that titbit of information. “Could an alicorn have made it?”

“Perhaps… alicorns often experimented with magic in ways we have never considered before. Only a few other torcs like this have been found.”

“In one particular area, or all over the place?” Twilight asked.

“The torcs were found in Rodoria; the war with the griffons at the time of their discovery meant they had to be smuggled out. I have read Light Hoof’s journal, and it sounded quite daring.”

“They must have been made because of the springs and lake in Rodoria,” Lyra observed. “A lot of already very pure water to work with.”

The two other foals nodded in agreement at this before moving on. As they continued around the residence, lingering over household artefacts, Twilight was surprised at the siblings’ keenness for history. While Blueblood dominated the conversation, Lyra often had titbits of insights to offer as well. The Blueblood family suites were a treasure-trove of history; even particular pieces of furniture had tales of their own. Slowly, Blueblood’s stiff attitude subsided and Twilight found she was actually enjoying herself.

They ascended the stairs to the bedrooms, only to wait on Blueblood, who politely begged her patience and forgiveness as he disappeared into his room, only to return a few seconds later.

“What was that about?” she asked.

Any modicum of amicability was briefly expunged when Blueblood answered irritably, “If you must know – though it really is a private matter – I was merely making my move in a chess game.”

“Chess game? Are you playing against yourself?” As far as Twilight was aware, there was nopony else in the house for him to play chess with.

“My pen-friend in Veneighce, actually. The board is enchanted so we play in real-time, and I just realised a new strategy I could play. He has me in a bit of a bind, but he never was able to play the long game.” He clarified as an afterthought, “His name is Acuto Barlume, son of notable marchesa of one of the most prestigious of the patrician families. Perhaps I may introduce him to you when he next visits. He has been very keen on the political situation here in Equestria, and he will be very interested in meeting the Empress’s first and only apprentice, considering the disturbance you have caused here.”

The little lavender unicorn was taken aback. “Disturbance? Do you mean when the Empress made me her student?”

“Yes, well, ‘disturbance’ is an accurate way to describe it. Every now and then, a commoner is elevated to nobility by the whims of our sovereign, and most of the existing noble families know how to deal with that. But you…” he frowned thoughtfully. “You put us all in quite a quandary. You have no title, yet you are unofficially our equal by the Empress’s actions regarding you. I suppose you don’t fully realise the gravity of your situation, do you?”

His tirade had set off a dozen questions spinning in her head, but she was forced to simply shake her head as she failed to voice any of them. Blueblood was not acting cruel, not whilst she was a guest in his family’s home at least, but his matter-of-fact explanation somehow reminded her of a calm stream hiding sharp rocks beneath its waters.

He began to pace back and forth. “For a thousand years now, mortal ponies have been trying to get close to the Empress, to develop some sort of a relationship that might tie us to the Imperial House as more than mere vassals and subjects. We try continually to place ourselves on even an ever-so-slightly more level plane of social existence with Nightmare Moon. She has snubbed any proposal of marriage – even from foreign sovereigns – and most offers of alliance. She has elected to remain above all attempts of the nobility to bind ourselves to her, and those few confidants she has still remain at hoof’s length.” Blueblood stopped his pacing and stared at Twilight, now starting to stalk around the little filly with such a glower that she instinctively turned to keep him in front of her. “And then there’s you. Who else has unlimited access to the Royal Apartments? Who else can command the Empress’s personal attentions? Everypony sees how much time you spend with her – more than even her chancellor. You have become perhaps the greatest political asset in the Empire’s history. You are the key to as equal an alliance with the Obsidian Throne as anypony can hope for, short of becoming a new Arche.” He finally stopped again, having completed two full revolutions around the recipient of his lecture.

Twilight prided herself as a mature filly, with a good head for things most foals her age were too unworldly to understand. But this was on an entirely different level. The past few months, she had treated her small contact with the nobility – mostly snobbish fillies ignorantly turning their noses up at her – as inconsequential. All that mattered was her studies. But now the weight of his words finally settled in. There was a whole lot more to being the Empress’s student than just learning; there was politics and the balance of power in Equestria. Her head ached as if a pile of heavy books were uncomfortably laid atop it and a part of her worried that she might throw up if she kept on thinking too deeply about it.

Stunned and overwhelmed, she blurted, “If I’m so valuable as a friend, why are you so mean to me?”

Blueblood stiffened and, in the corner of her eye, Twilight saw Lyra stare at her brother with a look that bordered on an affronted scowl. That, at least, confirmed Lyra as a pony of some character. The Prince turned to his sister.

“Lyra, could you please give Lady Twilight and me a moment to ourselves?” he asked in a strained voice. “I have private things I must speak with her about.”

The younger sibling’s face formed into a true scowl now. “You know what Mother and Father have always said: it is improper to leave a mare and a stallion alone without supervision.”

“Lyra!” he hissed. “Don’t be stupid. You know that only applies to unmarried ponies and courting couples of marriageable age. Now stop making excuses and leave us.”

They locked stares for a few moments, Lyra wearing a pout truly worthy of a daughter of the aristocracy, before she turned her head upwards, harrumphed, and stalked off to her room. Twilight would have likely been amused were it not for her continued state of bafflement. Now she was alone with Blueblood, who let out a long, heavy sigh.

“Miss Sparkle, you must know that when you… threatened me, you committed a slight against not only the authority of my station, but my personal honour. As you never formally conceded your wrongdoing to me and apologised, nor can I force you to do so in an overt fashion, I had no choice but to rectify your slight by returning it… however subtly, and however petty the means.”

This did nothing to help clear up Twilight’s confusion. What? What kind of twisted morality is that? Is… is that how all nobleponies think? She shook her head slightly, trying to clear the fog of questions and attempted understandings in her mind and closed her eyes. Taking a deep breath and exhaling much as Blueblood had done, she opened her eyes and replied, mustering up all the airs and graces she could, “Are you satisfied, then, Prince Blueblood, that revenge for your dishonour has been achieved?”

A neutral Blueblood nodded firmly. “It is. As such, I will admit the wrongdoing on my part, dishonouring you both directly and indirectly by insulting your friend, and apologise, but only if you are willing to do the same.”

“I can agree to that,” Twilight said. “I was, at the time, abusing my position as the Empress’s apprentice, and I realise now it was the wrong thing to do.” She bowed her head slightly, remembering the first time they had apologised to one another, though she strived to give a composed response to the noble. “Prince Blueblood, I apologise for my insult against you and your station.”

At this, the unicorn colt too bowed his head. “Miss Twilight Sparkle, I apologise for the insult to you and your friend. In retrospect, threatening to call the guards was a stupid and childish reaction to a simple and… perhaps deserved coltish brawl. I must admit, I am not very good under pressure. These kinds of dilemmas in a more formal, civilised setting amongst equals are more to my liking.”

“Equals?”

“Oh yes,” Blueblood nodded emphatically. “At this point, I think – and I think all the aristocracy thinks – that your elevation to our ranks is a given. The very least you will get is a barony, perhaps somewhere in the Capital Province, close to Canterlot.”

Twilight wasn't sure whether she liked the sound of that. If she had to run a barony, where would be the time for studying? For the Empress? “I don’t know… are you sure the Empress would make me a noble?”

“When you are older, certainly. It would be unwise for the Empress to not give you an opportunity to use your talents and education to help govern Equestria, and the Empress is definitely not an unwise mare.”

She couldn't help but accede to his reasoning, much to her surprise. This Blueblood was a far cry from the Blueblood who publicly accused her of being a thief when they first met, who callously and pettily insulted Orion and then threatened to have him arrested. Perhaps she had just found him in a bad way at those times; perhaps he had been out of his element, unable to deal with the admittedly somewhat unique situation that she presented. Twilight nodded to herself. Yes, that seemed a reasonable explanation. After all, Blueblood wasn't stupid. His recent behaviour and the fact that he attended the Imperial Academy was a testament to that.

The bell for dinner rang soon after their apology and Lyra came out of her room, looking quite put off. Her brother attempted to mollify her, saying that all was well between him and Twilight. Lyra nodded at his words, but her expression didn't seem to change. They arrived in the dining room to find the adults already there, and servants moving around the edges of the room, attending to their tasks. Nightmare Moon smiled at her student as they entered.

“Twilight, I hope you enjoyed the Bluebloods’ home, it is really quite lovely.”

Twilight smiled back. “Oh yes! They have all kinds of interesting things here. Some are thousands of years old!”

“We Bluebloods have been patrons of history for many generations,” the Duke said, his words resonating with pride. “Our collection in our Canterford estate is much larger and, I can assure you, much more interesting than the trinkets we have lying around here.”

“Perhaps we can visit your estate sometime in the future, Duke Blueblood,” the Empress suggested. “I haven’t seen it in quite a while. In the meantime, let us sit down for dinner.”

They obeyed the Empress’s subtle order with good grace and speed, nestling into the cushioned stools. The adults and the children were segregated once more, seated on either end of the table. Nightmare Moon was given the honour of sitting at the head of the table, with the ducal couple seated at her right and left. Twilight and the other foals’ stools and cutlery were positioned with enough space between them and the adults that they would be properly excluded from their discussions unless voices were raised and questions directed at them. Twilight decided that she did not like this at all.

It was evident that the Queen of the Night was keen to begin the meal, and the servants were hurried into setting out the first course. A lovely palate of hors d'oeuvres were laid out, though soup seemed to be the central theme of this course: a rich Prench onion soup garnished with croutons and topped with gruyere cheese that had melted to a golden layer on the top. The adults had already begun their conversations, or resumed them, in any case. Despite her efforts to listen in, their chatter was quickly lost on Twilight, filled with discussions about ponies she’d never heard of and complicated political and economic affairs.

“So Twilight, I take it you’re attending the Imperial Academy for Gifted Unicorns?” 

Twilight turned to Lyra and nodded. “I’ve just joined this year.”

The mint green filly smiled. “I’m studying there too, though I am a couple of years above yours.”

“What’s it like?” the Empress’s student asked, keen to get some more insight on her school. “I mean, I don’t know how much work it’ll be later on or even if it’s any different from my year.”

“Oh, well, the first year was fairly easy, and there is much more work in my grade. We need to learn a lot of stuff because we’re taking our GCE exams three years earlier than every other pony in Equestria.”

“Those exams aren’t too much trouble, you should know. As long as you have revised sufficiently, of course,” Blueblood said, doing his best to try and sound invested in the conversation. It was painfully clear that he was quite bored and somewhat annoyed at being grouped with the children and excluded from the adults. His eyes often wandered over to his parents and the Empress, and his ears frequently twitched in an attempt to overhear snippets of their conversation. “The SATs are much more difficult, and my year will be a Tartarus of studying and mock exams to prepare for the real things.”

The main course was brought out, and it was a gorgeous selection: carrot and coriander frittelli with halloumi and sweet lemon dressing; and a basil roulade with sun-blushed tomatoes, made with what Duke Blueblood proudly declared to be deer’s milk. The food had been cooked to perfection. Flavours danced on Twilight’s tongue. She could taste the work of master chefs, and wondered if Ram Sea had been the dishes’ creator. 

As they dined, the foals continued to talk about school and their experiences with it. Lyra was as friendly and polite as any pony she knew at the orphanage, if somewhat more refined and shy. More often than not, however, Blueblood monopolised the conversation, turning it to subjects he was most comfortable with. The two siblings seemed to share a fascination with history, though, and when their exchanges turned to that subject, Lyra held a more equal verbal footing with her brother. 

Twilight found, much to her surprise, that she was enjoying not just Lyra’s contributions but Blueblood’s own anecdotes. She remained somewhat baffled as to how nice he was being, though she noticed he often made – likely without realizing it – callous remarks regarding certain members of the school, students and faculty alike; mostly those who were common or “rustic”. By the time they were presented with a light and creamy zabaglione for desert, school as a conversation piece had been completely exhausted. 

“Lyra,” the little lavender unicorn began. “I was wondering why you and your mom are ‘Heartstrings’ and not ‘Bluebloods’. I mean, wouldn’t you have the same family names if your parents were married, being nobles?”

The subject, for a reason unknown to Twilight, made Lyra bashful and, at some unspoken signal, her brother stepped in to answer for her.

“It is a product of aristocratic politics,” he explained, keeping his voice loud enough only for the three of them to hear. Twilight supposed Blueblood’s parents would not take kindly to him talking about them while they were just a few feet away. “Our mother was actually the third in line to be the head of the Heartstrings family; our late uncles were the first and second. They didn’t die until after she was engaged to our father, and their sudden demise caused concern among the court.”

“How come?” Twilight frowned thoughtfully. Politics, she decided, was definitely not her forte.

“The Heartstrings are very powerful. Even if she hadn’t married our father, Mother would be a duchess in her own right as her family are the lords of Manetana. When our uncles died in a tragic accident on a mountaineering trip, she was suddenly the heir to the family. Nopony thought she would ever inherit much, which is why nopony put up much of a fuss when it was announced that she was to marry our father. Now there was the possibility of the Heartstrings and the Bluebloods combining, which would make our joined family truly supreme in all of Equestria.” This elicited a proud smile from not just Blueblood, but also Lyra. “So rather than face trouble from lords challenging his suit, our father came to an agreement with our mother: she would not join the Blueblood family properly, instead act as the head of a separate household, and the firstborn would belong to the Blueblood line whilst the second-born would be Heartstrings and so on and so on, in alternating order. This satisfied most ponies, for it means that the power of two duchies won’t be concentrated in one family forever.”

Twilight nodded along with his explanation, frowning in her attempt to understand. Yes, that does make sense… sort of. Though she couldn’t understand what business it was of other ponies if somepony gets married to another, or what was so bad about one family having two duchies. Why did Blueblood and Lyrica need to compromise with other ponies anyway?

Whatever the answer, it was slowly dawning on the unicorn filly that, if Blueblood was right and the Empress made her a noble or gave her some important job later in life, she would have to deal with all this convoluted, bizarre politics some night. The thought made her shudder, and a thousand questions and scenarios began to sprout in her head. What would it mean for her to be a noble? Would she even be made one? Would there be time for books and studying? How important would she be, really? Twilight tried to form an idea of that magnitude from Blueblood’s earlier words, realising just how little she knew about Equestrian politics and high society when she failed to do so.

Dinner finished with Twilight only partly paying attention to the discussions of the others, nodding her head and offering minimal responses as warranted. They were seen off with much fuss, Nightmare Moon deciding to forgo the apparently customary post-dinner wine-drinking for the sake of Twilight’s homework. Bows were made and the Bluebloods assured their Empress and her student of their honour at their attending the dinner. The Empress played her part, being very verbally gracious that they invited her in the first place. By the end of it all, Twilight was really quite sick of the formalities.

She said goodbye to the siblings politely nonetheless, though with much more sincerity to Lyra. Despite his apology and lack of cruelty, Blueblood had still not earned her trust. Some of his politeness was very clearly only skin-deep, though other times he seemed somewhat genuine in his pleasantries. His sister, on the other hoof, was rather more constant and earnest in her congeniality. Twilight knew she would definitely not be averse to seeing her again.

“Now, Twilight,” Nightmare Moon said as they stepped into the Royal Apartments. “I have a busy schedule planned for us this weekend – I want to introduce you to some dignitaries – so it would be best if you finish your homework this evening.”

“Yes, Empress,” Twilight said, bowing her head in acquiescence. There was not all that much time left until she had to go to bed, and if it were not for that dinner she would have been done now and would have had the opportunity to do some well-earned leisure reading after a long night of school. Plus, the idea of spending all the time meeting dignitaries did not sound like a fun or productive use of her weekend to Twilight.

The tall black alicorn left her with a reminder to properly hang up her dress. The filly walked into her room and immediately slipped it off, positioning it carefully in her wardrobe. First things first, she thought. Twilight walked up to her vanity mirror and undid the braids and untied her mane. A minute or so spent brushing sent it back to its pleasingly simple natural shape. Satisfied that all signs of ceremony had been removed from her appearance, Twilight went about finishing her homework.

She had numerous assignments from all her different classes. She was usually very good at her schoolwork, and she loved to research deeply into her subjects. Many of her classmates only put the minimal necessary effort into their work, but Twilight knew she had to go one step beyond. The library would be scoured, citations would be made and, if at all possible, experts reached until she had produced something most SAT-level Academy students would be proud of. It was expected of her as the Empress’s student, but moreover, she expected it of herself.

This time, however, as the clock ticked away, Twilight began to grow increasingly aggravated. It was clear by the deadline set by her mentor that she would not be able to go as in-depth as she would have liked, nor would she be able to cross-reference or do any of the background reading she so desperately wanted.

To make matters worse, her earlier questions of politics and the Empress’s plans for her bubbled like a boiling kettle left far too long on the flame. She couldn’t concentrate, not while she lacked the answers to her very future. Try as she might, the questions floated to the forefront of her mind. Would she be able to face the challenges that Nightmare Moon gave her? Would the Empress give her a chance to decide for herself how she wanted to use her talents?  

She growled as she glanced at the clock, painfully aware how close the hands were to the hour of her bedtime. Shaking her head, trying to find a distraction for the questions, Twilight decided only one course was available. She needed a break.

Very rarely did the ravenously studious filly actually ever take a break. Even then, it would be simply reading a novel. But this time, her thoughts were still full of noble titles, politics and responsibility. A few lines of Pride and Pegasus whisked her right back to the Bluebloods’ party, and she closed it again. 1001 Arabian Nights didn’t help, either. She was pretty sure Sahara Shade wouldn’t have lasted very long if she’d kept repeating the same sentence to the sultan like that. Twilight scanned the bookcase once more then sighed. She knew there was no book in her room, or even in Equestria, that would clearly tell her what her brain needed in order to relax; she was unique, Nightmare Moon’s first apprentice ever. She scanned the room, searching for a distraction lest she become sick with worry.

She sighed. Other fillies and colts didn’t have to worry about the political futures of an empire. Their biggest concerns were who to play ball with at recess and who stole whose building blocks. 

Huh. Recess.

Suddenly, Twilight knew what she had to do: something she thought a filly as mature as herself was above; something that she so rarely did. She would play. Reading certainly hadn’t helped keep her mind off her worrisome concerns. Unfortunately, her room held very little in the way of toys; mostly books. Almost entirely books, in fact.

“Maybe…” she murmured aloud, an idea slowly forming. Grinning, she set to work.

Many of the books were massive things, looted from the palace library where they had been kept for centuries. The venerable tomes were in pristine condition, something brought about by a spell as she had learned a while ago. They formed perfect building blocks.

Twilight worked well with a goal in mind. She always found that problem-solving helped herself focus. The task at hoof was a new challenge, however: she was going to build a fort; as big and grand as she could make it. The little filly had never actually constructed anything before, aside from the odd school project. But nothing on the scale she was trying for. She let her creativity run wild. The shelves formed the quarries, the books the stones. She would build a castle for herself, worthy of a duchess… or even a princess!

She went through several designs of her fortress, each ending in collapse, before she found the perfect way to make it. Twilight found she had enough books to make plenty of sturdy pillars, walls and turrets. It only grew as she redesigned it further, using her bed as a foundation and adding stools, cushions and chairs. The finishing touch was a little flag of her cutie mark made out of coloured-in paper. It was a massive construct, compared to her at least. Just as she stood proudly before her creation, the door opened.

“I see you must be finished with your homework then.”

Twilight whipped around to find the Empress standing in her doorway with a soft smile on her lips, shed of all her jewellery, make-up and regalia save for an obsidian tiara that looked rather small for her. The little filly blushed and looked away, nervously kicking her hoof against the carpet.

“It is quite all right, my dear student,” Nightmare Moon assured her. “There is no harm in a young filly your age playing, even if you have made quite a mess of your room. You can use the rest of your time until bed as you see fit, after all.”

The filly winced. “Weeelllll…”

She was now met with a cooler look. “Twilight Sparkle, do you mean to tell me that you haven’t finished your homework when I specifically told you to? I expected more from you, young filly.”

“I… I, um…” Twilight stammered and stepped back, fighting away the tears of shame and embarrassment. “It… It’s just that I have no time to get it all done in the right way and I… I just have so much on my mind and I can’t concentrate.” She sighed and hung her head, averting her eyes to the ground, well aware of how pathetic she sounded. “’M sorry...”

She felt the hard, keratinous surface of a hoof and her head was gently lifted up. Twilight found her mentor to now be a little more mollified, the alicorn’s eyes brimming with questioning sympathy. The Empress closed the door behind her and walked further into the room, near the book fort, before sitting down. She beckoned Twilight to join her, which the filly did with some reluctance, predicting a calm, stern dressing-down. She hated those kinds of lectures.

“Twilight, you do not have to worry,” Nightmare Moon said with a new tenderness. “Perhaps I put too much pressure on you so late in the evening after such a busy night. I think I might be able to let you miss a few of our appointments, though they will be disappointed that they will not be able to meet you, having the time to properly do you schoolwork is more important.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.” Twilight gave her teacher a feeble little smile.

The mare nodded. “You are welcome, my student. Now, please, tell me what’s on your mind.”

Twilight sighed. “When we were at his house for dinner, Blueblood said that I’m going to be very, very important to Equestria and the nobles, and that I’ll probably be a noble myself. And the way he said it… it just sounds like he’s right. I’ll have so much responsibility and I’ll have to do all this… this political stuff. I have so many questions and I don’t have any answers.”

When the last of her words slipped out of her mouth, a contemplative silence fell upon the room. Nightmare Moon’s brow was furrowed as she regarded the filly with neutral, calculating eyes, before her expression relaxed and the gentleness returned.

“I would be lying to you if I said that I don’t have plans for you in the future,” she said, the seriousness of her words balanced by the compassion in her voice. “As my apprentice, you have a lot of expectations to meet, not just from me, but from society as a whole. When you are ready, you will have responsibilities, though I must admit I do not know exactly what they will be yet. I know you have a great destiny that you will somenight meet, but only when you are ready. I have no intention of pushing you into something you are unwilling to do or incapable of doing.”

“But you will make me have responsibilities,” Twilight concluded, not sure whether to be scared or proud that her teacher had such high hopes for her.

“Everypony has responsibilities, in some form or another. Even now, you have responsibilities to your education.”

Twilight nodded, before voicing another question. “What about when Blueblood said I was important to the nobles and politics? Was he right?”

“He was, in a way. You are important to me; very important. But in regards to Equestria as a whole, well, I think you are only as important as they think you are. That is true for anypony, really.” Nightmare hummed in thought. “And it depends on what responsibilities and tasks you will have when you are older. Do you want to be important?”

The answer was obvious. “No, not really. I just want to be your apprentice and keep on learning.”

“An apprentice will always outgrow her master, my little pony,” the Empress smiled sweetly. “One night, I think, there will be nothing left to teach you. One night you will go beyond being my student to something else entirely, perhaps. Something that you will have to define for yourself. Do you understand?”

Twilight nodded almost absently. “I… think so. I will have bigger responsibilities when I’m older, and I…” she swallowed, the thought almost painful “I won’t be your student forever. But what about me becoming a noble? Is that true?”

Much to the filly’s irritation, her mentor simply shrugged. “Perhaps. I have not yet made my decision. Is the idea appealing to you?”

Mimicking her teacher, she shrugged with casual uncertainty. “I’m not sure. I don’t really know enough about what being a noble means. Will I have to be all political like they are?”

“Only if you want to. I know many good nobleponies who have shirked the power games of their fellow aristocrats and did their best to ignore politics. But I do think that if I do ennoble you when you are older, it would be a good way to put your talents to use, and you should simply think of it as responsibilities given to you as an adult. I trust you will not disappoint me; you are a very capable pony,” Nightmare Moon said, before shaking her head dismissively. “In any case, this is a matter for the future. You have been far too worked up over all of this when it is years away. Nothing is set in stone, my faithful student, and a foal as young as yourself shouldn’t be worried over something so far into the future. It will all be dealt with in time, but for now, you should focus on what is right in front of you.”

That made sense, Twilight thought, and she did answer most of my questions. Though her mentor’s own ambiguity riled her, she quickly realised that this was a problem for the future, just as Nightmare Moon had said. Obstinately, she decided that she would be ready and willing for whatever challenge the Empress gave her, whenever she gave it. One last question did remain, however.

“So… am I in trouble for not doing my work?” she asked with trepidation.

The mare tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Hmmm… no, I will not punish you. I should not have restricted you so. Though you should really have known better than to simply fritter away your evening rather than voice your concerns to me, as wonderful as your castle may be.”

“You like it?”

“Why yes!” Nightmare Moon smiled bombastically, her eyes suddenly twinkling gaily, and stood up with a hoof to rest to her chest. “It is a most magnificent palace, fit for a queen!”

Twilight giggled at the sight of the Empress of Equestria acting so playfully. “It was supposed to be a princess’s castle.”

“Then, Twilight Sparkle, I dub you Princess.” The tall alicorn lowered her head and touched each of the filly’s shoulders with her horn in a facsimile of a knighting. “Does your castle have a name?”

“Um, how about Bibliopolis?” she suggested.

“As excellent a name as any, I say. Do I have permission to be received by Princess Twilight Sparkle of Bibliopolis?” Nightmare Moon bowed her head respectfully.

Drawing herself up into as regal a posture as she could make, Twilight held her head aloft as she replied, “I will be honoured to received such an esteemed guest, though I insist that all visitors must pay tribute.”

Humming in deliberation, the Empress scanned the room before her searching gaze went upwards. She plucked her tiara from her head and, with a small mock ceremony, crowned her student as the official Princess of Books. Twilight was overjoyed at her newfound status and deigned the gift worthy enough for Nightmare Moon to be allowed in her kingdom.

It was a silly start to what proved to be an increasingly silly evening.

============

The Princess of Books was in a dire situation. The castle had partially collapsed thanks to the treachery of the Equestrian delegation (or at least, thanks to the delegation’s miscalculation of whether her hips would fit into the castle, much to her dissatisfaction), sparking a war between Equestria and Bibliopolis. Cushions had to be appropriated from her fortress for the war effort, which only served to put its structural integrity in further jeopardy.

Meanwhile, the Empress of Equestria had plundered her own room for more pillows, stacking them up in the corner of Twilight’s bedroom as a barricade-cum-stockpile. Now, with the lavender unicorn hiding in her book-built bastion and the black alicorn behind her palisade of pillows, they catapulted cushions at one another. The throws were light, however, and Nightmare Moon took special care to make sure she tossed her projectiles as daintily as she could without ruining the fun.

Twilight was currently on the defensive, focussed on repairing her defences with as much speed and skill as she could manage. A bombardment of cushions and pillows came from the Empress’s station, and poor Smartypants had been knocked off her lookout perch, now wearing a handkerchief as a makeshift sling. And she was just preparing an array of pillows to hurl back at her teacher until her bedroom door suddenly opened.

“Is anypony in here? I’ve been looking–”

Twilight scampered out of her fortress to find a stunned Inquisitor at the door. She had never seen a pony look more perplexed in her life, and she realised it was certainly quite the image. Here was the Empress of all Equestria, Queen of the Night and Regent of the Moon, having a pillow fight with a filly sitting in a fort of books. 

His eyes locked questioningly onto Nightmare Moon’s. The alicorn rose to her hooves and walked over to him calmly with an arch expression, as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

“You know it is impolite to enter a lady’s room without knocking first, Inquisitor,” she admonished, her voice stern and dignified.

“I… I apologise, Your Majesty.” The ashen unicorn bowed his head.

“What is it you wanted to see me for anyway?” she asked.

“Ah, well, just to inform you that the Silverstar Plan has been passed in Parliament,” he said, businesslike in both his tone and expression. “The official Council ratification and signing is on Firstnight at ten o’clock in the monrning.”

“That seems reasonable. Thank you for notifying me, Inquisitor.” Nightmare nodded appreciatively and the Inquisitor bowed, moving to leave until she called for him with a devilish smirk on her lips. “Oh, and Inquisitor?”

He turned and a soft pillow sailed across the room, smacking him square in the face. He went rigid with shock as Nightmare Moon tittered. “That was for not knocking.”

Seeing his stunned expression only fuelled the Empress’s merriment. At this point unable to control herself, Twilight joined her mentor in the hysterics. The Inquisitor, it seemed, found it rather unamusing and left with a self-important huff. However, though it might have been her imagination, Twilight thought she caught the signs of a grin cracking through the grey stallion’s rigid face as he turned around.

The laughter went on for quite some time until they were left lying on the floor with happy tears in their eyes. As they panted, spent from their amusement, Nightmare Moon sat up and looked at Twilight with a strange, wistful expression. The filly returned the gaze with the quizzical rising of an eyebrow.

“Thank you, Twilight.”

The student sat up. “What for?”

“I have not laughed like that in… some time. I have not had fun like that in some time. I had almost forgotten what it was like to let things go and just play. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to remember.”

“Oh, well you’re welcome,” Twilight blushed. “But aren’t you an adult? I mean, no offence, Empress, but adults don’t really play. Not like that, at least.”

The alicorn’s reply was a kind smile. “I think there is an exception when we play with foals.” She sighed and stared out of the window, to her crystal clear night. In her mentor’s eyes, Twilight saw a number of emotions come and go, though she had trouble pinpointing them. The Empress continued to stare outside for a while until she swiftly rose and turned to the little lavender unicorn. “How would you like to go out for a flight?”

Struck by the oddness of the question, Twilight frowned. “I don’t have wings.”

That elicited a rich chuckle from Nightmare Moon. “No, I mean on my back.”

“Oh yes please!” Twilight jumped to her hooves, eyes wide with excitement.

Grinning in pleasure, the starry-maned pony guided the foal out to the balcony and, with magic, lifted her gently onto her back. Twilight hugged tightly onto the alicorn’s neck, though this didn’t seem to cause her any discomfort. She eyed the view before her nervously; though spectacular, it reminded her just how high up she was, and how she would be even higher.

“Promise you won’t let me fall?”

Nightmare Moon turned her head as far behind her as she could. “I promise. If you do, I will catch you.”

“O-okay…” she managed, butterflies filling her stomach. She shivered, both at the cold air that blew past them, but also at the prospect of the flight.

“Do you not want to fly with me?”

“I do! It’s just…” she gulped. “I’m a little nervous.”

“Don’t worry, my little pony,” Nightmare Moon smiled warmly and bent her knees. “It will be like nothing you have ever experienced.”

With a strong leap and a flap of her wings, the alicorn vaulted over the railing and dove. Unable to help herself, Twilight screwed her eyes as tightly shut as she could and let out a scream that was blown away in the wind. She tightened her grip as the wind lashed her face and whipped past her ears, whistling from their speedy descent.

It seemed like forever before the freefall ended and Nightmare Moon rose into the night sky, beating her powerful wings steadily. She flew straight and fast, as fast as perhaps only an alicorn could fly. At this safer angle of flight and at the soft, encouraging words of her teacher, Twilight opened her eyes. Cold air blasted against them cruelly, and she was forced to narrow her vision and blink rapidly to prevent them from drying out.

For a long while, Twilight buried her face in the warm nape of the Empress’s neck until she worked up the courage to pry herself away and peek over the alicorn’s shoulder, risking a downwards glance. The land shone in the light of the evening, a silvery sheen on the darkest blue. The distant lights of small villages sped past, like little clusters of stars on the ground, though not as sharp and clean. 

Throwing a glance back towards Canterlot, she saw the city slowly shrink further and further into the distance. Its colours bled together, becoming a blur of red, blue, white and yellow light before eventually disappearing behind the hills and mountains altogether. 

The Queen of the Night’s mane billowed off to the side on a current of its own, defying the wind and keeping out of her face and field of view. The filly would have smiled at her mentor’s consideration had she not been already gaping at the sights below and in front of her. 

Eventually, Nightmare Moon slowed her speed. The frequency of her wingbeats decreased and she spread her wings wide and broke into an even glide every so often. Despite this pace, the draught and the altitude still stole much warmth from the little filly on her back, who shivered and pressed her body into the alicorn’s fur.

“Are you cold, Twilight?” the Empress asked, her voice remarkably clear despite the buffeting gale.

Twilight nodded against the mare’s neck, raising her voice to be heard over the wind. “Yes! Aren’t you?”

Offering no answer, Nightmare Moon’s horn flashed, and suddenly Twilight didn’t feel so cold. The wind was still blasting against her face and body, but with much less discomfort; feeling more like a breeze during a hard gallop. Her throat and mouth were no longer rubbed raw whenever she breathed and after a few blinks, her eyeballs no longer felt abraded. Without the wind chill, she was warming right up. Twilight sighed at the newfound comfort and relaxed.

“I would not be too complacent if I were you, Twilight,” Nightmare warned. “Though I can catch you if you slip, I doubt falling is a pleasant experience for one who is so young and has never flown such as you.”

Twilight kept a firm hold on the Empress’s neck as the alicorn dipped her outstretched wings and glided at a gentle angle towards the ground. They were in a wide valley devoid of civilisation. Below them was nothing but forest, and in the distance, a shimmering lake. The mountains weren’t the typical solitary heights of Canterlot Valley; they were a complete chain of highlands punctuated every so often by unique peaks, forming the walls of the valley. 

Twilight marvelled at how there was such an undisturbed place so close to Canterlot, but then upon thinking about it, she realised that she had no idea how far away they were from the capital. Nightmare Moon had flown so fast and so far that it seemed like it could be a hundred miles from where they started. 

They glided closer to the earth, coming up to the lake Twilight had seen on the horizon. It was so still it reflected the silvery light of the moon and stars like a giant mirror. As they drifted over the surface of the water, Twilight imagined there being two star-filled skies – one above her and one below – and that they flew above the gateway to another world.

Moving closer and closer until they were skimming just over the lake, Nightmare Moon extended a foreleg and pierced the still skin of the water with her hoof. It was only for a second, but it sent ripples out across the lake and warped the reflected sky. The stars shook and shifted as the ripples passed through them and the moon wobbled like jelly. 

Twilight lurched backwards and checked her grip as the Empress climbed back into the sky. Looking behind her, Twilight saw the ripples grow smaller and further away as she was lifted higher. Nightmare Moon tipped herself to the right in a slow, long turn.

“We will be heading back now,” she said. “It is past your bedtime already.”

The mention of bedtime flipped a switch and Twilight realised suddenly just how tired she was. The exhilaration of the flight kept her awake, but at the same time it sapped at her mental stamina. The afternoon had been eventful and tiring and were she not soaring through the evening air on the back of the Queen of the Night, Twilight was sure she would be asleep by now. At that thought, the warm cosy cocoon of her bed sounded very enticing; despite the wonderful scenery and the incomparable experience of flight, the whistling wind and the marked lack of clothing was rather unpleasant in the autumn climate.

As the Empress tilted her body upwards, ascending more quickly and aerodynamically, Twilight peered over her wings and watched as the woods and lake shrank underneath them, as they flew higher than the mountaintops bordering the valley.

Twilight felt the air grew colder and thinner, and though the chill didn’t faze her too much anymore, she snuggled into Nightmare Moon’s midnight fur. Every breath came easily, though deep down she knew she should feel lightheaded and dizzy. Once again, she was very thankful for the alicorn’s spell.

For a long time the only ambiance was the muffled wind, the steady beat of wings and the soft sigh of breathing. She closed her eyes and focussed on these soothing rhythmic sounds. Then, in what seemed to be spontaneity, the Empress began to trill and hum what sounded like a gentle lullaby.

And with her guardian’s music in her ears and her mind full of sky, mountains and mirrors, Twilight drifted off to sleep as she was carried further into the heavens.
> A Cause for Celebration
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


A Cause for Celebration





If anypony had told Nightmare Moon she would have been this excited for All Hallows' Eve a year ago, she would have made a snide comment about time-wasting and royal image and sent them away. But that all changed when she caught Twilight’s infectious excitement for the holiday. The lavender unicorn had gushed about how it was the only holiday – aside from Hearth’s Warming Eve – that she would wholeheartedly participate in, since it was an opportunity to let her imagination run riot with dressing up. Though being one of the few occasions she and her fellow orphans were treated to candy might have had something to do with it too.

Seeing the filly embrace the holiday had soon convinced the Empress to join in the festivities. The holiday enthusiasm of a child was hard to deny. While at first reluctant, Nightmare Moon had warmed to the idea, eventually embracing it as much as Twilight did. 

The filly was now excitedly fidgeting with her costume, making sure it looked perfect in the mirror. As she stared at her reflection, teal dragon’s eyes stared back. She blinked and rolled her eyes experimentally. Hovering just outside her student’s room, having stepped out to give Twilight some privacy as she put on her costume, the Empress smiled. The spell she had cast was working perfectly.

The Empress had been flattered by the idea and had elected to help her with the costume. As her first Hallows’ Eve away from the orphanage, Twilight had wanted to make her costume herself, though her attempts at papier-mâché regalia and wings were laughable at best. The fragile wings had come out comically asymmetrical and knobbly, and the tinfoil shoes started coming apart after a few steps. After some convincing on the Empress’s part, Twilight had finally allowed Nightmare Moon to help her. The Queen of the Night, as it became apparent to the little filly, was quite the artist. Together, they had made a false set of regalia and wings that were both realistic, beautiful and – most importantly – durable. Twilight had then dyed her hair in deep violet and re-styled it before adding glitter that emulated the ethereal stars of the alicorn’s own mane.

To add the finishing touches, Nightmare had painted over Twilight’s cutie mark, replacing it with her own. The final component to the costume had been a spell of illusion over Twilight’s eyes so that they became identical the alicorn’s own. Twilight stepped back from the mirror after she finished the final adjustments to her costume and admired the handiwork. She looked just like a filly version of Nightmare Moon.

“My loyal subjects!” she squeaked, her high-pitched voice attempting to emulate the grand, magically amplified public-speaking voice of the Empress. “I decree that Hallows’ Eve has officially begun!”

“Indeed it has.”

Twilight whirled around, flinching as she saw Nightmare Moon standing in the doorway. She blushed furiously even as the alicorn smiled reassuringly.

“Um…” Twilight began, struggling to think of what to say. Finding nothing, she decided to find a new subject. “Where’s your costume? You said you were going to wear something for Hallows’ Eve.”

Nightmare Moon nodded. “Oh I am, but I am just putting the finishing touches on it. Why don’t you start collecting some candy from the residential apartments and I will meet up with you in an hour?”

“Okay!” the filly replied excitedly.

She grabbed her bag and scampered out of her room and the Royal Apartments. Nightmare Moon stepped back into her own room and looked at her costume with mischievous delight. How long has it been since I dressed up for All Hallows' Eve? she wondered. Centuries? A millennium? Yes, that seemed right. In any case, it had been ages since she last participated in the holiday. But tonight was different. Tonight, she had plans of her own.

Her memories turned to the days when she would zip all over the world as a filly, surprising the other alicorn nobles with a trick or a treat. Nightmare Moon smiled when she remembered how often she tricked rather than treated. Tonight, she decided, was going to be a night the palace residents and staff would never forget. The Empress grinned wickedly. Tonight, Canterlot, she thought. You shall receive the biggest prank of all!

With glee, she slipped into her costume, taking care not to spoil its perfect ruffles and creases, and trotted out the Royal Apartments. She could clearly see the horrified glances she was getting and the painfully bad attempts by staff and nobles alike to hide their shocked faces. She spotted her first victim – a Royal Guard. He stood so rigidly, eyes perfectly front. He didn’t even notice her approach until she was in full view of him. Even his statuesque face began to crack when he saw his Empress in her costume. She grinned inwardly as his eye twitched.

“Good evening, sergeant,” she said, her voice a sing-song tone. She saw the guard wince ever so slightly as he was addressed directly.

“G-good evening… Your Majesty,” he managed, his voice as stiff as he was trying to stand.

“It is a beautiful night, no?” 

“Yes, Your Majesty!”

She gave a smile of overbearing joy as she struck a pose. “What do you think of my All Hallow’s Eve costume?” 

“I…” the stallion couldn’t finish. He was visibly shaking.

“You’re relieved for the evening, Sergeant,” the Empress smiled.

“Oh thank you, Your Majesty,” the guard sighed. He bowed with all due formality, before he turned quickly and galloped off, leaving a trail of dust behind him. 

The Empress snickered and walked on. Then she stopped suddenly in mid-stride, her hoof inches from the ground. An idea struck her. She thought of a new victim that she would enjoy teasing far more than anypony else. Softly laughing to herself, she called up an image to the front of her mind and concentrated. With a flash, she teleported to her target location instantly.

This place was on the other side of the mountain, a corridor tunnelled through the rocks and dirt that made Mount Canterlot. She knew it fairly well, although she did not often visit. In the dark, dank corridor – dimly lit only by a few fiery braziers that hung from the wall – she could make out a deep mahogany door. Stifling a fit of mischievous chuckles, the Empress knocked.

“Come in,” came the silky Gallopfreyan-accented voice from the other side.

She pushed the door open and stepped daintily through. The office was spacious and floored with smooth, polished wood. Along the walls were many bookcases, lined with an assortment of tomes – many of which were forbidden from circulation around the Empire – and an extravagant fireplace sat in one of the walls, fires lit and smoke rising to an unseen chimney. The middle of the room was carpeted with a rich wine-red rug, and contained a magnificent desk – deep brown wood trimmed with gold paint. The wall behind the desk was non-existent. Instead, a large row of windows let the moonlight spill into the office. The view let any visitor know that the room had been built into the cliff-face of Mount Canterlot, a pony-made blemish on an otherwise untouched mountain side. At the desk, buried in his documents, sat the Inquisitor.

He held up a hoof and levitated a glass of sherry to his lips. “Just a second.”

“Inquisitor, is it really wise to leave your Empress waiting when she comes to visit?”

The black-shrouded stallion finally looked up at her, and immediately choked on a mouthful of the amontillado he was so fond of. Nightmare Moon patiently stood, smiling lightly, as the Inquisitor finished coughing. He braved another look in her direction and froze, as if the second glance finally confirmed it all. His jaw dropped open and his eyes widened.



“Y-you… you’re a…” the Inquisitor stuttered, at last able to get some movement out of his lips. “A maid.”

Nightmare Moon smiled sweetly, though any real maid that dressed like her would have been thrown out of the palace. Her costume of choice was a black dress with a frilly skirt that reached just over her haunches, accented by a white apron. Fishnet stockings, ribbons and a couple of garters were extra little details that she was particularly fond of, and the lace headband was a nice touch. She even wore two pairs of dainty black shoes.

“I decided to participate in the festivities this year,” she clarified. “I decided it would be ironic if I dressed as a Prench maid. Royalty dressing as a servant, Inquisitor; think of the scandal.” She performed a delicate twirl. “Do you like it?”

“I… um… uh…” the Inquisitor tugged at the tight collar of his black uniform, a rose colour tinting his cheeks. “It’s very… flattering, Your Majesty.”

“Really? I think it might be a little too tight at the back. See?” Nightmare Moon gave a testing wiggle of the flanks. The stallion’s eye twitched. She smiled innocently at him. Internally, however, she was cackling with delight at his discomfort. “Inquisitor, you look a bit flustered. Are you ill?”

“N-no!” he cried. “I mean, it’s just a little warm in here.”

“Well, if that’s it, then I am sure you will not mind coming outside with Twilight and me,” the alicorn said in a tone that made it clear to the Inquisitor he would have no choice in the matter. “It will give you a chance to cool off and get some fresh air.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Oh, and we can stop by the parade. I wanted to show it to Twilight so she knows about what Hallows' Eve really means,” the Empress added.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” the stallion said, his strangled voice regaining some of its composure.

She offered him a smile lacking in the chicanery of her previous performance. “You can dress yourself up and join in the celebrations properly.”

A slight wince marred his face. “I would prefer not to. I am… not particularly fond of Hallows' Eve.”

“Oh?” Nightmare Moon raised a brow. “Is it too much of a foal’s holiday for you, or are you just scared of all the little monsters?”

“I just think it is a load of commercialised, superficial tripe,” the Inquisitor countered, a bit of bite edging his voice. “I want no part in such pointlessness.”

“All Hallows' Eve has been around for thousands of years, Inquisitor. It is steeped in meaning and tradition, not the least of which is to celebrate the defeat of one of the world’s greatest threats. Why, even as a filly I donned my own guise and hunted for treats.”

It was the Inquisitor’s turn to shoot her an arch look. “Somehow, I find it hard to picture you as a rascally little filly going from door to door trick-or-treating.” 

“I had a foalhood just like anypony else. I believe you had one, too. Did you never dress up for the Eve when you were a colt?”

“The holiday was essentially non-existent in my hometown,” the Inquisitor replied quietly.

The Empress pursed her lips. “This would be the little Gallopfreyan village in the highlands?”

“Impeccably remembered, Your Majesty. We were in a valley that was fairly solitary in terms of nearby civilisation.”

“I suppose in such isolation, any town would have its quirks,” Nightmare nodded. “In any case, you have to agree Hallows' Eve is hardly commercialised when it is continuing traditions well over a thousand years old.”

“Fine, I can see your point,” he huffed. “I still would rather not bother with a costume.”

The Empress  made an exaggerated pout. “That is quite a shame; I promised Twilight she would see you embracing the full spirit of the holiday. You wouldn’t want to disappoint our hopeful, lonely little filly now, would you?”

The stallion’s jaw clenched and his eyes flared with irritation. “No, I would not,” he grumbled.

“Good!”

She whirled around and walked slowly to the door, then paused and looked back with a come-hither smirk and a wink as she flicked her tail at him. She waited just long enough to hear his scandalised sputtering before flashing to the other side of the palace.

Back in the Residential Wing, Nightmare Moon walked in her usual proud and regal way, though this time flavouring her stride with a sly sway of her hips. Most ponies continued to gawk, no matter how hard they tried not to, some shocked and affronted, but more with amused astonishment. Many ponies gawked at her when they thought she wasn’t looking, staring in utter shock. Some looked at their Empress with amused astonishment, though most had the decency to carry on with their evening wearing just a startled blush and only occasionally glancing Nightmare Moon’s way.

Shame on you, Luna, acting so unseemingly, a small nagging voice of derision said from the back of her mind. You are an alicorn, and an empress at that. Ponies will lose respect for you; dressing like this will cause you nothing but humiliation.

An alicorn and an empress at that… Nightmare Moon turned the phrase over in her head. Yes, I am: immortal and with absolute authority. If anypony has a problem with the way I’m acting, they can go stuff themselves! The small voice of her doubts fell silent.

Besides, she thought with a grin, I haven’t felt this… sexy in centuries.

It excited her, in a way, to be seen by ponies in such a light. As she wandered through the palace, speaking to its denizens and playfully flirting with a few of the more handsome of them, the shock of her appearance wore off and more ponies began to give her considering looks, though they tried not to be noticed doing so. Nightmare Moon hadn’t realised just how gratifying it was, even for just a little while, not be regarded as the regal, immortal, and completely unrelatable alicorn Empress of Equestria, but to be admired as mare instead.

It was not long before she came across a certain fuchsia unicorn mare dressed in a familiarly-themed Hallows' Eve costume. North Star’s fringe was pulled back and, along with the rest of her mane, bound in a simple spherical bun. Atop her head rested a nursing cap, to go with the nurse’s outfit she wore. This particular outfit, however, sported an inordinate amount of lace and pink trim. Unlike the rather plain and practical dress of professional nurses, the salaciously shaped, short-cut skirts hugged her hips and flared over her rump, accenting her curves much as the Empress’s own costume did. The entire design was finished off with white stockings that nearly reached her cutie mark and a set of dainty pink slippers.

North Star had abruptly stopped walking and was now staring with dilated pupils at the Empress. A vivid blush coloured the pink pony’s cheeks and, likely without realising it, she bit her lip as her gaze remained fixed on the alicorn. Nightmare Moon tried to stifle a grin at her minister’s obvious interest. This might confirm those rumours, she thought. North Star had always been purported to have some sort of inclination toward her fellow mares, and Nightmare Moon was beginning to suspect that the young mare’s worship of her was perhaps more than just religious devotion. Nightmare Moon’s lips formed a pleased smile, but on the inside it was much more devious.

“Why, North Star, you look absolutely delightful in your costume!” she cried in the most overly-dramatic manner she could muster. 

The blush somehow grew even deeper. “Y-yes, well, thank you very much, Your Holiness,” North Star managed, bowing and taking a few seconds with her eyes on the ground to recompose herself. She rose. “And may I say you look particularly… mesmerising yourself?”

“Mesmerising is definitely a good word to describe it,” the Empress said casually, giving the frilly skirt that just covered her flanks a pointed glance. “Most of the palace seemed to be somewhat mesmerised by my costume. In fact, I’ve been getting a lot of looks not unlike the one you gave me a moment ago.”

The blush returned, and the young mare did her best to suppress it. “Forgive me for saying so, Your Holiness, but your costume… it’s, well, it’s not exactly suitable for a mare as sacred and high in stature as yourself, is it?”

“Oh? And what about your own costume, Lady North Star? Surely it is rather risqué for a minister of my council, not to mention a priestess.”

“Ah... yes, Your Holiness, but I… I’ve always worn costumes like this.” She grimaced at her admission. “I enjoy having this one night where I wouldn’t have to pay too much attention to whether I am wearing the ‘right’ type of Canterlot clothes and I...” Nightmare Moon gave her an exaggeratedly wry look and the young mare bowed her head. “But, yes, you’re right, I’ll go change immediately.” North Star glanced up at Nightmare Moon hopefully. “Would Your Majesty consider doing the same?” 

“I don’t think it is necessary.” the Empress smirked, “For either of us to change.”

The mare looked abashed and managed a deferential nod.

“I know it seems out of the blue, but it is Hallows' Eve, and I have not joined my subjects in celebrating this ancient holiday for quite some time,” the alicorn explained, before smiling confidently. “Besides, nopony would dare defame me, and I think I of all ponies have the right to present myself however I please. Don’t you agree?”

“Y-yes, Your Majesty!”

“Then would you like to walk with me?” she asked.

The young mare looked overjoyed, eyes suddenly shining with seemingly boundless enthusiasm. As quickly as it came, the look vanished as North Star composed herself in front of her sovereign. “I would be honoured.”

The Empress and her loyal apostle meandered through the palace at a slow, casual pace. As they did, she noticed that the two of them together dressed as they were caused many stallions to perk up, fixing them with appreciative looks, subtle or otherwise. Occasionally she met the eyes of one of the rubberneckers, taking great delight in watching them suddenly snap to a properly ashamed and subservient manner as they scurried off out of her sight.

“So you say you often dress like this for All Hallows’ Eve, Lady North Star,” Nightmare Moon prompted, hoping to spark carefree conversation with the young priestess.

North Star was jolted out of her contentedness, having basked in the silent company of her idol, drinking in her form reverantly as they walked. She tried – and failed – to hide the blush that coloured her cheeks. 

“Oh, yes I did, Your Majesty,” she said stiffly.

“And what have you gone as in the past?”

“I… well, I’ve gone as many different things: a devil, a witch and a vampire, to name a few.”

Nightmare Moon threw her subject a toothy, wicked grin. “All of those were as, shall we say... spicy as your current guise, I assume?”

The Hierophant gave an almost imperceptible nod.

 “And when did you first start this trend of yours?” 

“Thirteen, Your Majesty.”
The Empress blanched, her grin falling away. “Thirteen?! Your guardian was Hierophant Mystic Dawn, am I correct? I am surprised she allowed you out in those outfits at that age.”

North Star’s only response was a strained “She didn’t seem to mind, Your Majesty.”

Sensing that her minister’s discomfort had finally reached intolerable levels, Nightmare Moon let the conversation wither away into silence. If there was any moment that impressed upon Nightmare Moon just how difficult it was to connect with mortal ponies on a personal level, this was it.

The unicorn was uncomfortable with further attempts from the alicorn to bridge the distance between their statuses with light banter. Whenever Nightmare Moon attempted to get the mare to open up, she would continue to just deferentially agree with whatever her liege had to say. In the end, the obsidian mare resigned herself to one-sided chats on easier, more comfortable subjects with North Star. At least, she thought as she finished regaling the priestess with anecdotes of previous Hallows' Eves, North Star is a good listener.

After walking for some time, Nightmare Moon found herself back at the great hall of the residential wing. She smiled as a miniature version of herself scampered out of the hall dedicated to the House of Harshwhinny with a shouted, “Thank you!”

“I like your costume, Empress,” Twilight said as she trotted up to them, looking approvingly at the maid ensemble her teacher wore. The implications were obviously lost on her young mind. 

The Empress smiled graciously at the innocent, genuine compliment. “Thank you, Twilight. Most ponies also share your regards. However, I think everypony will find your costume absolutely terrific. Don’t you agree, Lady North Star?”

Twilight blinked as if she hadn’t even noticed the obsequiously nodding fuchsia mare. “Hello, Miss North Star. Your costume looks very nice as well.”

“Thank you, Lady Twilight Sparkle.” The priestess bowed her head politely, staring at the filly’s draconic eyes. “You too have a wonderful costume.”

“Oh yes,” Twilight said, a hoof absently touching her dyed mane. “The Empress helped me make it.”

North Star smiled endearingly at that. “How are you enjoying Hallows' Eve at the palace?” 

“It’s great! The costumes are all so good, but there aren’t all that many other foals.” The foal shrugged and gave a sly grin. “But that means more candy for me though.”

“Twilight, I see you have had quite the successful night,” the Empress said, eyeing the filly’s bag brimming with sweets and chocolates.

The little one nodded emphatically. “Yes! The nobles all have such better candy than the houses near the orphanage did.”

“As with all celebrations, there is a certain mind-set the nobility have on All Hallows’ Eve. As always, they like to show off.” Nightmare Moon flashed her student a grin. “Have you ever seen the parade on the main street? It is really quite something.”

“Yes, I have. The orphanage sends out groups of us every year to go trick-or-treating and we always stay out to see the parade.” Twilight eyes drifted upwards and glazed over for a few seconds as she was lost in reminiscence. “I would love to go out and see it with you, if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all, Twilight. In fact, I was going to there with Lady North Star to meet the Inquisitor.”

“The Inquisitor’s there?” both unicorns asked curiously.

Nightmare threw a smirk towards the priestess. “Yes, I have managed to convince him to participate in the fine traditions of All Hallows’ Eve. I do wonder what he will be dressed as.”

Twilight pursed her lips in thought. “Does he know where to meet us?”

“I am a six foot, three inch alicorn with a starry mane in a maid outfit.” The Empress replied pointedly. “I am sure the Inquisitor will be able to find us in the crowd.”

They walked onward, the filly blushing in embarrassment. The All Hallows’ Eve parade took place in the long, wide stretch of road that grew from the plaza in front of the palace and ended on the other side of the plateau. Their destination was not far enough to warrant a carriage, and so they crossed the plaza outside the palace on hoof. 

Flashes and snaps of cameras assaulted the alicorn and her little retinue almost as soon as they left the safety of the palace, flanked by the Honour Guard. Nightmare Moon felt her chagrin rise like bile in her throat. Obviously the peasantry would leap on her costume choice and the tabloids would run wild with it. It would be as subtle as they could manage, of course – lest they wake the wrath of the Overwatch, which perched like a great black hawk over the media, watching for any sign of deviation from what the government deemed acceptable. Nopony wanted to anger the alicorn who ruled them all by publishing an article at her expense. The Empress allowed herself a cruel grin at the knowledge.

But the word would spread far. Ponies would probably understand that their Empress knew exactly what she was doing dressing like this and laugh along with the joke it was intended as. Or they could think I sincerely want to act like a loose floozy and pick up a stallion, she realised, before shrugging the thought off. It was unlikely; for a thousand years she had been an authority figure to be feared and respected. One evening of revelry on a night known for revelry would not change that. Either way, the alicorn knew, hoped, that this act would let ponies see she was not such an inaccessible, distant icon.  

The Honour Guard spread out, locating and cordoning off the press. Their liege crossed the plaza, only mildly irritated whenever she saw a flash of light in the corner of her eye. After a while of this, and after several smashed cameras and threats, the journalists decided to graciously leave their sovereign alone. Nightmare Moon checked to see how her charge was holding up. 

The little filly seemed oblivious to the actions of the media. Instead, she frisked excitedly around Nightmare Moon, occasionally munching on a piece of candy. There were a great many ponies in all kinds of colourful costumes around them, all here for the parade. The city gendarmes were already clearing the center of the plaza in preparation for the coming spectacle. On the main street proper, ponies lined up on the sidewalks, craning their necks to try and see the first of the floats and performers arrive further down the road.

Nightmare Moon led them to a spot on the main street near to the plaza. The chosen place was quickly emptied of ponies, with a fence of guards circling her, her student and her minister. Ample personal space, she thought, quite pleased. Numerous onlookers stared at her and her entourage with rapt fascination. The parade had yet to start, so the Empress dressed as she was stood as the moment’s main attraction. 

“Try not to gorge yourself, Twilight,” she warned her student, who was stuffing a large wad of gummi cherries into her mouth. “Else you will get a stomach ache.”

Twilight nodded and made a noise that sounded something like a muffled “Yes, Empress.” The alicorn huffed, her breath catching the air in a steamy plume. Where is he?

Just as the question entered her mind, a flash of light caught the corner of her eye and the tell-tale pop of a teleportation spell rang in her ears. She turned around to find a mask staring at her; crude and shiny and coarse with nothing more than plain rectangles for eye holes. The pony that was wearing it was wrapped up in a hooded rufous cloak.

“I see you have decided to come after all,” Nightmare Moon said to the Inquisitor, waving away the dutifully curious Honour Guards.

“Well, it wouldn’t do to disappoint little Twilight Sparkle, now would it?” She could hear the smirk in the stallion’s voice.

Hearing her name, Twilight scampered up to the two. “Oh wow, Inquisitor, that is a really good Red August costume!”

The stallion gave a little flourish with his cloak. “I’m glad you think so. I didn’t have much time to put it together, so I had to make the mask myself.” 

“Is that cardboard wrapped with aluminium foil?” Nightmare Moon smiled in good-humoured derision.

The Inquisitor scoffed. “I used what I could work with, and I think I did fairly well considering I had all of twenty minutes to do it. Besides, you’re hardly one to talk about authenticity, Empress. I’ve never seen a real maid wear a uniform as... provocative as yours.”

“Very well,” the Empress replied, “I will not hold any… imperfections in your costume against you.”

The black eyes beneath the mask flicked to left of the alicorn, where North Star stood, then regarded the Empress with an unasked question. For some reason, Nightmare Moon felt the need to explain. “I came across the Hierophant in the halls and she was all too willing to accompany Twilight and me to the parade.”

The masked stallion just nodded. “I suppose the theme tonight is irony. Your Majesty as a lowly servant and Lady North Star as somepony who actually helps others.”

North Star didn’t miss a beat. “And you came dressed as a respected intellectual.”

“Aha! Touché, Your Eminence.”

“Ooh, I see the first float!” Twilight cried, stabbing a hoof down the road.

Nightmare Moon was tall enough that she had no need to lean and peer in order to see the parade come by. She also knew the general theme of an All Hallows’ Eve parade; it would be equal parts glorious celebration – a tradition carried down from the first festivals many thousands of years ago – and macabre spectacle – a more modern invention, just over a millennium old.

The first float was heralded by a group of performers. Unlike the more pedestrian and diverse costumes of the crowd, the performers wore bizarre and colourful outfits representing all kinds of spirits and ghouls. A pegasus wearing the pale blue and trailing streamers of a windigo swooped and whinnied above the crowd while a dance troupe of zombies lurched in perfect unison down the street. The float behind them featured a massive skull on a bed of marigolds, asters and daisies, wreathed in a crown of imported sunflowers. The warm colours were a rarity in Canterlot, a city normally adorned in traditional imperial blues, purples and whites. Bright colours were reserved for Hallows’ Eve and the days leading up to it. As always, the sight of the sunflowers brought on a flash of memory; fields of the towering yellow plants basking in the sun of ages past. Nightmare Moon couldn’t help but smile.

More performers and floats passed them, filling the air with music as they went. Each float, like the costumes of their passengers, was more colorful and bombastic than the last. The juxtaposition of warmth and life with the symbols of the monstrous and dead had fascinated Nightmare Moon in her childhood. Of course, the more modern version of Hallows’ Eve eschewed most of the folkish expressions of the holiday in exchange for plastic jack-o'-lanterns and store-bought costumes. Still, from the calvalcades of the smallest towns to the spectacle that wound through the boroughs of Manehattan, the tradition of the Hallows’ Eve parade remained faithful to the festival’s early years.

The Canterlot parade was the most bombastic. Musicians danced on stilts and thestrals adorned themselves in gaudy vampiric ensembles. There was even a tamed manticore performing at the command of its trainer on top of one of the floats. Always-theatrical performers played their roles without breaking character, cackling and lunging at the audience as they half-lurched, half-danced their way down the road.

“Are you enjoying yourself, Twilight?” the Empress asked, turning her head to the little unicorn at her side.
Twilight nodded profusely, her mouth stuffed with candy. “Mhm.”

“Do you know why we celebrate All Hallows’ Eve?”

The filly swallowed her treat. “Isn’t it so we get candy?”

Nightmare Moon laughed. “Partly! But do you know the original reason?”

Frowning, Twilight concentrated, searching her mind for the answer, before finally giving up and shaking her head in defeat.

“Tonight is the night when the world of the living and the world of the dead are closest to one another,” the alicorn supplied. “It was this night that ancient cultures, old even before Arche’s ascension, chose to venerate their dead ancestors. The practice has been continued for millennia since.”

“But then what’s with the costumes and the candy?” asked Twilight.

“Well, since the spirit world and the living world are so close on this night, devils and ghosts and all manner of creatures can appear. Apparently, the first celebrants disguised themselves as monsters and ghouls in order to trick the spirits into leaving them alone.”

“I haven’t ever seen any ghosts or monsters on Hallows’ Eve,” the filly replied.

The Inquisitor intoned mysteriously, “Perhaps they are among us, and you haven’t noticed them amidst all the guising ponies. I’ve seen quite a few costumes that seemed all too real…”

Twilight’s eyes widened at the implications and suddenly began to scan the crowd, staring intently at some seemingly suspicious spectators. Nightmare Moon laughed into her hoof at the sight of a child’s fantastic imagination at work. The Empress leaned down to her.

“I would not worry about it, Twilight. I am sure if there are any spirits out there, they are just here to enjoy the celebration like you.”

That seemed to calm her down, as she returned to gaze at the parade, though every so often she threw a peering glance at the throng of costumed ponies. Nightmare Moon was busy enjoying the sight of what she guessed was a masked pegasus dancer in a ridiculously long and flowing purple cloak pretend to be a banshee when she felt Twilight nudge her leg for attention. She leaned down to hear what her student had to say.

“Where does all the trick-or-treating come from?”

Nightmare Moon smiled nostalgically. “Back in my day, we called it souling.”

“Day?” The filly cocked her head quizzically.

“An archaic way of saying night, though much of the world considers it the more proper term,” the Empress brushed off the question. “Now, souling was essentially trick-or-treating, except we went around begging for the soul cakes that were traditionally baked on All Hallows’ Eve. We would go around singing and busking and saying prayers to our ancestors.”

“These nights we just say ‘trick or treat’ and get candy,” Twilight observed, shoving a hooful of sweets into her mouth.

“Yes, I have always been a little disappointed at that development.” 

As the parade reached a crescendo, ponies weaved their way through the crowds, passing out fiery torches. Nightmare Moon took a couple. To her student’s dismay, the Empress refused to let her hold one, citing the flammability of her costume wings. At last, the final float came into sight.

It was a massive stallion effigy made of straw and wood, painted black with pitch. Kindling and other debris lay at its feet, stacked up to the knees. Its horn and its wings, folded up against its sides marked it as an alicorn. This alicorn, however, was calculated to look as monstrous as possible. Four eyes of solid red, like pools of blood, were fixed above a sneering, fanged mouth. The figure was covered in wooden spikes and sculpted with jagged, frightening armour. Its mane and tail were coiling masses of thick black rope. The thing was as hideous as it was every year.

“I forgot how ugly it was,” the Inquisitor muttered, his voice tinged with venom.

Nightmare Moon threw her chancellor a smirk. “It is always different in every town.”

“So what’s the origin of this, Empress?” Twilight asked. “I mean, a giant statue of Maelstrom the Mad doesn’t seem to have anything to do with celebrating the dead.” 

“All Hallows’ Eve also marks the final defeat of Cheimon – or Maelstrom as some call him – and the end to the War of Black and Red. We burn effigies of him to commemorate that.”

The filly stared at the massive wooden statue. “Was he so hideous?”

The Empress shrugged. “Probably not, but Grandfather never liked to talk about it, so I have little idea myself. But really, it does not matter anymore. We do not burn Cheimon per se, simply the idea that he represents: a tyrannical force that brings chaos and war.”

“So it’s all symbolic?”

“The real Cheimon died many millennia before I was even born. It had only vague meaning to me when I was a child, and it has even less meaning to ponies whose ancestors never even fought him. In any case, it is a fun tradition.”

As the effigy trundled along the road, the crowd began to follow. Sections peeled away and shuffled towards the main plaza. As the effigy moved closer to its destination, the surge of ponies grew. A mass of glittering torches held aloft now shifted ever so slowly to the plaza just outside the palace gates. In the centre – in all his terrifying wooden glory – stood Maelstrom the Mad.

The humming mass of equinity gathered there, guised and glowing with torches held high. Excitement filled the air, and pyromania was on their minds. Nightmare Moon could sense the eagerness in her subjects, to burn and celebrate. It was a mad little ritual, in a way, and suitably macabre for the special night. A horn sounded and the humming fell to a buzz. 

A pony of indeterminate sex dressed all in yellow, hooded and masked in cloth, stepped out of the crowd and turned to face the throng. It cried out. “Three cheers, three cheers for the thousand years that ended when we won; the battle of all the hopes and fears, the hopes and fears of which we sung!”

And the city sang. They sang in triumph, in whooping revelry and joy that were sure to frighten ghouls and demons and put fear in the hearts of ne’er-do-wells and tyrants. As the song came to a crescendo, three more blasts of the horns sounded and the cheer for the death of all tyrants came, which Nightmare Moon gladly joined in.

“Hip hip hurrah! Hip hip hurrah! Hip hip hurrah!”

And with that, the ponies of Canterlot let loose their torches, throwing them at the tyrannical figure. Nightmare Moon allowed Twilight the opportunity to throw her own torch herself, though she carefully monitored the filly. Like most of the torches, her student’s landed in the pile of kindling at the effigy’s feat. A sudden fancy came over the Empress; the call of flamboyance and theatre she loved. She aimed her own torch and lobbed it with magically-guided force and precision. There, in one of the statue’s four eyes, the torch embedded itself and soon the head was aflame.

It did not take long for the entire thing to be covered in fire. The kindling was excellent and the pitch added fuel. Ponies around her cheered and laughed and children were mesmerised by the dancing, growing flames. The alicorn saw the Inquisitor vanish from the corner of her eye, reappearing minutes later with several small bags of roasted chestnuts, passing one to North Star and offering another to Twilight, who eyed her candy and then the chestnuts before shaking her head. With a shrug, he turned to Nightmare Moon.

“Empress, I don’t suppose you would like some roasted chestnuts?” he asked, gesturing with a bag of the treats in his telekinetic grip.

“Well… ‘tis the season for them, so why not?” Nightmare happily took a bag and sampled one of them. They were delicious. “So, Inquisitor, has it been so bad to have come out and join in the celebrations?”

He shrugged. “I suppose not, Empress. I’ve had the pleasure of the company of good ponies such as yourself and the Hierophant. And Twilight Sparkle, of course.”

“I think the poor dear has a bit of a sugar rush,” Nightmare Moon said, looking at her student, who was giddily chatting with North Star.

“She’ll probably feel a bit poorly later, given the amount of sweets she has eaten,” the stallion observed.

“It will serve as a lesson in moderation, then.”

The Inquisitor nodded his masked head. “Oh, and, Empress, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about the latest report on communications between the griffons and the dragons.”

A dainty pink slipper shot up. “If it is not too much to ask, Inquisitor, I would rather not talk about work on a holiday such as this.”

“As you wish, Your Majesty,” the stallion bowed his head. “In that case, let’s just watch the bonfire, shall we? I like the heat… I can feel a cold snap coming.”

And they did just that. The four of them stood there, dressed in all manner of garb between them, and chatted amongst themselves until the flames became smoulders and the crowd had long since dwindled to a scant few groups orbiting the bonfire.

============

The Bright Moon shone like the sun, penetrating the grey-white skies easily. Clouds massed over Canterlot and dusted snow as far as the eye could see. The Inquisitor was thankful for the intensity of the moon’s light, since otherwise it would have been impossible see anything at all in this weather. He stood on the balcony, warmed by a fur-collared winter cloak. His usual stark black Overwatch uniform had been exchanged for a statelier outfit of dark maroon breeches and a black doublet trimmed and embroidered with gold.

In the city, the Inquisitor could see thousands of colourful lights and decorations themed to the festive season. Hearth’s Warming was always a popular holiday; something to keep ponies occupied in the cold, dark lull of the winter months. Ribbons and lights bridged houses and ran along their walls, wrapping around entire streets. Wreaths of holly and fir fixed with golden bells garnished windows and doors. From his vantage point on the palace balcony, there were so many Hearth’s Warming trees it looked as though a forest had sprung up in the streets of Canterlot. Every last one was draped with at least a few stars and ribbons and lights.

There would be a play this year, as there was every year. It would be the same as always: the unity of the three main pony races, the triumph of the Equestrian Empire and the Fires of Harmony that heralded the end of old conflicts and the start of a new age. As it did every year, the pageant would have its own flavour with a new creative team and new actors. The Inquisitor snorted as he recalled the numerous different plays. They all had to be heavily vetted by the Ministry of Culture and the Imperial Overwatch working in tandem. Inter-departmental cooperation was always such an ordeal, even when it was something as simple as editing a play.

The Inquisitor sipped at his mug of mulled wine, a traditional drink he was quite fond of, and looked through the windows of the palace. The grounds were flooded with servants and staff all franticly finishing the preparations for the day’s Hearth’s Warming Feast. The Inquisitor had spied the kitchens earlier, and his stomach growled at the memory of the delicious sights and smells of the food. He had already been to several dinners over the past few days, as one of the perks of his position was the need of the politically-inclined to invite him for a meal and each one had been lovely, but none would match the glory of the feast hosted by Nightmare Moon. A gluttonous grin spread across his face, smooth as butter, and his mouth watered until he shook himself out of the culinary fantasy. 

The stallion frowned and glared narrowly at his body. Even under the clothes he could see the fleshiness of his body. The unicorn poked his paunch and jabbed at his jowls, muttering ruefully, “You’ve gotten fat, you old fool.” 

Visions of a strapping, handsome youth surfaced from somewhere deep in his memories. That younger version of him could send fillies into giggling fits or swooning faints simply by smirking at them. That youth had been rippling with muscle. He would have been disgusted by this glorified desk-jockey politician that was now dreaming of further feasting. Then again, that young stallion was cocky, stupid and had no concept of subtlety. 

Still. “Must clear room next year for an exercise regimen,” he told himself before downing the last of his mulled wine and heading inside.

The scent of candle wax, cinnamon and pine needles filled the air. He smiled at the smells; they brought back more warm memories. The Inquisitor couldn’t help but put a little spring in his step. Like much of Equestria, Hearth’s Warming was his favourite time of the year. Even in Canterlot, surrounded by rivals and enemies on all sides, he could relax and enjoy himself with good company, good food and good cheer. He had no doubt that Twilight Sparkle’s presence at the banquet would make it all the more enjoyable.

He was surprised to see the change the filly brought out in his sovereign. The mare had been frightfully cold to all but himself, and so imperious even then. Who would have thought that children would be her weakness? Who could have guessed that the conqueror of Equestria and dreaded immortal overlord would melt into a mare who would play with pillows and conduct saucy pranks after spending half a year looking after a little filly? The Inquisitor chuckled to himself. It was a change he found himself welcoming.

“Master, I have news.”

The familiar voice of Thundersong, his secretary, caught his attention. The marsh-green pegasus was parted from her Overwatch uniform at his insistence, revealing a cutie mark of a clipboard and quill. 

“Ah, Thundersong, enjoying the festivities?” He smiled at her. 

“Yes,” she replied tonelessly. “The delegation from the Griffon Kingdoms has arrived. They are being entertained by the Empress and other members of the Council, but King Winfred of Heofonwolcen is eager to speak to you.”

“Is he? Well, I guess I shall go and meet with him. They’re in the front foyer, correct?” The secretary nodded. “I must go before my presence is further missed. Hold this, will you?” He placed his mug on Thundersong’s back and made for the reception hall.

Luckily, he was not too far away from the hall, and within a few minutes he arrived. The hall was one of the most lavishly decorated rooms in the palace, with a giant fir tree standing proud and tall in the centre. Equines of all tribes were loitering about the room, mixing with their griffon guests and making small talk. Eggnog, wine and mulled drinks were being carried by servants to any dignitary that desired to quench their thirst. 

He spied Nightmare Moon talking to Marshall Silverstar, with little Twilight Sparkle standing shyly next to her. North Star was near them, chatting with members of the Council. With his family at his side, Blueblood had injected himself right into the middle of the griffon visitors, regaling them with a story – by the way he made sharp, triumphant gestures, it looked as though he was recounting a fight of some kind. He apparently reached a punchline, and the griffons all squawked with laughter. The Inquisitor plucked a glass of mulled wine from a passing waiter’s tray and made for the Empress, her student and the Marshall, certain that they would be the most gratifying company out of all the people in the room. He would certainly have a pleasant time while the griffon ambassador stewed in the frustration of having to wait.

His plans were dashed, however, when a tall griffon stepped into his path. “Ah, Lord Commander! I was hoping to talk to you.”

The ashen stallion knew his bespectacled interloper as the ruler of the griffon realm of Heofonwolcen, King Winfred. He was stark white all over, save for his black claws and the azure on his wings and around his eyes. He wore a rich suit coloured to match his wings with a cloth-of-gold cravat. Atop his brow rested a rather simple golden circlet declaring his kingship.

“And I you, Your Highness,” the Inquisitor managed a cool, amiable smile. “But please, call me Inquisitor.”

“Is that your name?” 

The Inquisitor shrugged. “Of a sort. Now, what is it you wish to speak to me about?”

“We accepted your Empire’s invitation to this feast understanding that it would help soothe the tensions between our peoples.” Winfred pushed his spectacles back up his beak. “I know the cultural importance Hearth’s Warming day has for Equestrians, and the emphasis it places on unity, peace and understanding. I want nothing more than such things for Equestria and the Allied Kingdoms.”

The lie came easy to the Inquisitor. “As do I, hence my invitation.”

“Ah, but you were the one who insulted us several months ago. I was there when you made your threats, implied as they were. How can you say you support peace when you were the one who instigated the souring of relations between us?”

The Inquisitor waved a hoof dismissively. “You and I both know that inter-species goodwill has been in a decline for years now. I voiced my displeasure only after your fellow kings so brazenly threatened expansion into Equestrian territory.” He snorted softly. “In hindsight, perhaps there was impertinence from both sides that day. The military build-up along our border has alarmed both the public and the international community, neither of which has yielded positive results for either of us.”

Winfred nodded sagely. “Investment has plummeted in the past few months. I understand that your border regions were experiencing quite the recession before the mobilisation. I imagine this situation has only served to exacerbate things.”

“No more than for your nation. Poorer and more isolated than we are, it must be hurting the Griffon Kingdoms to have foreign investment slip away to regions with more peaceful prospects.” The Inquisitor allowed himself a smirk.

The hit to the economy had been expected, as was the usual posturing of other nations who wanted to look above war. Equestria would shrug off the recession in the north; those areas had always been poorer anyway. The griffons, on the other hoof, could not afford a similar recession. Troop movement and the new militarist bills passed in the Equestrian Parliament scared the market and investment and stocks plummeted. When war came, it would only get worse. Which was fine… perfect, even.

The griffon king seemed unimpressed by the Inquisitor’s comments. “It hurts everyone when the money-lenders tighten their purse-strings, even mighty empires like Equestria.” He pursed his flexible beak loosely and shrugged, apparently bored with the line of conversation. “I have heard interesting things from your Empress.”

The Inquisitor gave him an easy smile. “Well, she is an interesting mare, after all.”

Winfred did not return the smile. “Interesting things pertaining to the gifts that we were supposed to exchange.”

“Is that so?”

“Empress Nightmare Moon seems to believe that we had exchanged the gifts and were not in fact so grievously insulted by you withholding yours.” The king tilted his head forward, frowning over the rims of his spectacles. “I take it if I were to inform her of what really happened, you would fall from her favour, to say the least.”

“And who would Her Majesty believe: her closest and most trusted advisor or the stranger from an enemy nation that would benefit from an incident certain to humiliate her country?” The stallion’s glass rose to his lips, stopping just short of tipping the delectable holiday drink into his mouth when Winfred spoke up, voice stiff with frustration.

“My fellow kings and the numerous servants in attendance at the summit can corroborate my story.”

“And my servants and fellow representatives in that embassy can corroborate mine. Again, my word against yours.” The Inquisitor sipped his drink.

The griffon dignitary sighed and pinched the bridge of his beak. “I see I won’t be able to use this as leverage over you, nor will you apologise for something you will claim never happened.”

“I’m glad you realise that.”

“Nonetheless,” the tiercel shot the stallion a sharp look. “I am willing to let bygones be bygones… to let this feast be the beginning of a clean slate.”

“And press ever forward to peace.” The Inquisitor smiled jovially and raised his glass to toast the words.

“Indeed. I think the first thing we can do is for both sides to order a demilitarisation of the border regions. Let the world see some progress.”

“It will be difficult to convince my government to withdraw our troops when the Allied Kingdoms continues to assert its claim on the Western Wilds. As your fellow kings have made it clear, they are willing to make threats to secure griffon-kind’s expansion.”

“Some are keen for war with Equestria, that much is true,” the king said, knitting his brows in obvious displeasure at the notion. “But surely a compromise can be worked out, so that both parties are satisfied?”

The Inquisitor scratched his neck. “Possibly. Your Allied Kingdoms might have to be satisfied with scattered enclaves. The borders between the Wilds and the Kingdoms have already been settled by ponies.”

“I suppose, though there are any number of possible solutions that will give us a corridor to any territories we can obtain in the Wilds.”

With a wave of his hoof, the Inquisitor ended further discussion. “I think that can be left to professional negotiators when the time comes. Are you looking forward to the feast?”

“I must admit I’m glad my liege lord selected me to attend this Hearth’s Warming Celebration not just for the opportunity for peace.” Winfred grinned. “I will be able to enjoy an extra feast before I return home for more Yuletide dinners.”

“Our chefs took into account your visit and have cooked some boar.”

“Ah, how traditional.” Winfred chuckled. “I must admit, I’m surprised that your chefs know how to cook boar.”

“We called in some Easterlings to help with the feast,” The Inquisitor explained.

“They do know their meats, but are you sure our food won’t cause offence?”

Some might be offended, and I can name a few who would go out of their way to be offended. Ponies were by and large a vegetarian race, though culture and famine often removed meat-eating as a taboo. Many equines in the world, particularly those of the strange reaches of Easterland and harsh north of Westerland, had appetites that were an anathema to most in Equestria. In certain places, eating meat was a time-honoured Hearth’s Warming tradition in remembrance of the necessities of the Windigos’ winter. In distant memory, the Inquisitor recalled the pain of hunger and the sweetness of cooked flesh that soothed his aches and kept him alive. The questions of morality in eating taboo foods were far from his mind back then.

The stallion shrugged. “It likely will for some of the more chauvinistic guests, but let them be offended, I say. Enjoy your meal regardless.”

“Thank you, Inquisitor, I will.” Winfred nodded his head and slipped away, returning to his fellow griffons, likely to inform them of the discussion recently finished.

The Inquisitor frowned after the king. It seemed the Allied Kingdoms truly desired peace, Winfred’s presence here said that much. The griffon was a renowned diplomat and an ardent pacifist. The Inquisitor had hoped they would send a firebrand such as King Eoforhild, so vocal a supporter for reclaiming the marches conquered by Equestria over a century before. It would not take much to provoke such a tiercel into causing an international incident. 

He shrugged. I’ll make do. If I can’t get him to crack, I might just make it so unbearable for him he’ll beg to be replaced. The balance between appearing to desire peace and baiting his rival diplomats to make a mistake would be challenging to maintain. The Inquisitor smiled. Challenges were rare treats these days. 

A peal of dignified laughter from across the room caught his attention. He slipped a casual, winning smile onto his lips and sidled up to the Empress, politely staying in her periphery as she finished speaking to Marshall Silverstar.

“Though as much as it would be funny to see Duke Blueblood in that position, I respect his station far too much to see it happen,” she said.

“Respect for the station and respect for the person often go side-by-side,” the Marshall stated. “How a pony holds themselves according to their station can affect the respect they deserve for their person, and they can irrevocably damage the respect some have for their station if they misbehave. Blueblood, I feel, can often lean too much on his heritage and status as duke. He interprets respect for his title as respect for him as a stallion.”

“True enough. No matter how many times I make it clear my respect is largely only for his title and the history behind it, he seems to think I hold his character in high regard.” Nightmare Moon turned to the Inquisitor with a small smile on her face. “But here is a stallion that I respect much more for his self than for his station. I saw you talking with the griffon king, Inquisitor. How did it go?”

“Winfred is a sterling griffon, Your Majesty, I think we will be making great strides towards a beneficial peace with his cooperation.”

“Good, peace is good. Is he looking forward to the feast?” 

The Inquisitor nodded. “He was especially pleased about our ability to provide him with his people’s traditional holiday food.”

“Yes, well…” The Empress grimaced. “If our esteemed guests wish to consume… flesh then we must make sure they are provided for. For the sake of peace, of course.”

“Of course.” The Inquisitor’s eyes sparkled with mirth. The Empress was one of those ponies who realised personal biases should be ignored when trying to reach important goals, such as peace in this case. But she was no vocal pacifist. The Inquisitor knew the alicorn would gladly march to war, given the proper motivation. 

“Perhaps peace with the griffons wouldn’t be best, though.” The elderly Silverstar’s bushy moustache twitched as he sniffed derisively at the notion of peace. “Both the griffon kings and our own nobles could learn some valuable lessons of humility from war.”

Nightmare Moon eyed him sternly. “War is never a good thing, and while sometimes it is a necessary evil, I would never go to war just so some people can learn humility. It would be a grievous waste to throw soldiers’ lives away just to teach a few hundred aristocrats a lesson.”

“But that lesson would yield a longer peace,” Silverstar assured. “The nobles will be reminded of the necessity of the central government and of obedience to Your Majesty while the griffons will have aggression and hostile energies beaten out of them. I think it would be best we swat them down now while they are not at full strength than giving them time to prepare themselves and grow stronger as a nation.”

I never took Silverstar for a warhawk. He always seemed much more interested in internal reform than imperial supremacy. “A funny thing to say for a veteran such as yourself, Marshall. I would have thought you of all ponies would do anything to protect the common soldier,” said the Inquisitor.

The Marshall fired a hard glare at his peer. “I am also a statespony and a general, Inquisitor. I would have thought you of all ponies would understand the need for sacrifice for the greater good. A short war to achieve a longer-lasting peace and guarantee Equestria’s ascendency is a fair price in my books.”

“I would like to avoid a war in any case,” the Empress said, fanning out her wings; a gesture to prevent her ministers entangling themselves in a heated argument. “I am sure we can have both ascendency and a long-lasting peace without the need to crush our northern neighbours.”

The Inquisitor pantomimed doffing an invisible hat in deference to his sovereign. “And does our little Twilight Sparkle have any input in this discussion?” Their eyes turned to the young apprentice at the Empress’s side. 

Caught off-guard, Twilight froze, her eyes rapidly dancing between the three adults. Lingering on her mentor’s for a little while, she managed a shaky polite smile and stared at the Inquisitor. “I think the Empress has it best. War should only be a last resort, since while we’re not a hundred percent sure keeping the current peace would help Equestria maintain ascendency or make the peace long-lasting, we also can’t be a hundred percent sure that war will be similarly beneficial. Since we sustain much great short-term damages going to war than, it would be better not to gamble on the unproven conjecture of that option.”

“Well put, Twilight,” the Empress said, with a proud smile. “Though there are also moral reasons to not rush into war, not just practical ones. You would do well by me to remember that.”

Twilight lowered her eyes to the ground. “Yes Empress… I wasn’t thinking.”

“Oh, you were thinking quite a bit. You just failed to go certain directions in that thinking.”

The afternoon stretched on as the beginning of the feast came closer. The Inquisitor found it a delight to talk to Nightmare Moon and Silverstar. Their shared disdain for the nobility, though at differing intensities between them, proved a font of seemingly endless intellectual debate that descended into diatribes and diatribes that evolved into debates. Twilight remained an observer in their talks, staying half-hidden and silent at her mentor’s side unless addressed directly.

It was not that she had nothing to contribute. As with most similar conversations, the Empress would always ask for her input in their discussions and the young protégée would provide remarkably considered input. Twilight had no problem making herself heard when she was alone with one of the adults either, if what Nightmare Moon and Silverstar had told him and his own experience were anything to go by. Only in an official atmosphere, surrounded by a multitude of the powerful adults that roamed Canterlot Palace, did she become so shy. Half a year is not long enough to get used to these kinds of situations and personalities. Given time, she will likely enrapture a roomful of ponies with her monologues and counter-arguments. 

The palace’s bell chimed four times and the Empress led the way to the great hall, where elaborate décor and pricey tableware had been provided for the enjoyment of the feasters. The table was shaped like a large, angular “U”, with two prongs jutting out towards the rest of the banquet hall. On these prongs, both sides of the table were occupied, whereas the Empress’s section of the table was left so that she sat opposite no one, having a grand view of the entire room. The Empress sat in the centre of her table, overlooking the rest of the banquet hall. To the left of her mahogany throne, Twilight Sparkle sat, eyes like the full moon absorbing all the festive majesty of the hall. The seat to the right was reserved for the Chancellor of Equestria, a title the Inquisitor had been happy to hold for centuries. 

His was a chair with more glamour than the others; larger and with more intricate carvings. It was not much, but it was noticeable and all who looked at it would know he had a place above the rest of his fellow lords and ladies in the hall. It was always a point of contention with the more arrogant nobles, especially the Bluebloods, who could not stomach having what they thought of as an up-jumped commoner be respected above bloodlines that could be traced back to the fall of the alicorns.

The rest of the royal table’s seating arrangement was as flexible as always – none but the Chancellor, the Empress and now her protégée had a permanent seat. Duke Blueblood was one place further on from the Inquisitor, a seat worthy of his status, though he often had the honour of sitting on the Empress’s left. Now that spot had been taken over by Twilight, he had been forced to a seat further from Nightmare Moon every feast since the filly’s arrival. Many in the nobility were outraged at what they saw as a humiliation for their peer, never mind that the seat once had a new occupant every banquet. Beyond him was his son and select individuals from the griffon embassy, including the visiting king, mixed with ponies of the Imperial Council. 

Silverstar sat next to Twilight, a happy arrangement for the both of them as Twilight often conversed with the old stallion like a story-hungry foal with their well-lived grandfather. To the left of him was High Praise, the High Priestess of Canterlot, and then came North Star and Duchess Lyrica, Blueblood’s wife, as well as more griffon ambassadors and Equestrian Councillors.

Nightmare Moon spread her wings and raised her head in an attention-grabbing gesture.“We are gathered here a week before Hearth’s Warming Eve to celebrate the events of that night so long ago, where unity, understanding and friendship triumphed over petty differences. This triumph lasted but a moment, but it was a moment that forever changed history. Let us hope that the same qualities will bring us triumph in the future and secure peace between Equestria and the noble griffons of the Allied Kingdoms.” She nodded to King Winfred, a formal, respectful smile on her lips, and the motion was returned by the griffon dignitary. She lifted a glass of wine off the table. “To unity, understanding and friendship. To peace in our time.”

Glasses were raised and the room echoed “Peace in our time.”

The feast then began, with dishes brought in by servants from the side doors quickly filling the table with a colourful smorgasbord of food. Nut roasts and squash tarts and pumpkin pies were laid out in front of the diners. Pastas stuffed with spinach and pastries filled with mushrooms were accompanied by plates of roasted potatoes, parsnips and onions. A seemingly endless supply of even more foods, both traditional and exotic, was paraded out and set on the tables, glazed and sauced by honey, cheese, cranberry and gravy. Even the promised meat was brought out for the griffons; fat succulent hams and a great roasted boar.

Such a feast made many mouths water, and while he wanted nothing more than to tuck in, the Inquisitor knew it was protocol for the room to wait for the Empress to finish dishing herself up. She did so with some haste, knowing full well how much her fellow feasters wanted to begin. It was all likely the very best food any of them had seen, expertly garnished so it would be a delight to the eyes as well as the tongue.

When the Empress was done, the room burst into life with talk and activity, ponies reaching for and passing around plates and bowls. The constant stream of voices carried in the hall and gave the feast a boisterous ambiance. Conversations drifted up to the royal table and clashed together to the sound of a rushing waterfall. The Inquisitor was a practiced eavesdropper, though, and he cocked his ears to various ponies and griffons around the table.

Predictably, the thirty-second Blueblood immediately struck up a dialogue with the griffon embassy, trying not to gag at the sight of the meat being devoured. There was opportunity to be had in making a good impression with visiting delegates, and Blueblood could be a capable sycophant when it was prudent. His son listened intently, backing his father when he could and interjecting only now and then. The Inquisitor guessed the whole exercise was in part a lesson to the younger Blueblood of the arts of the silver tongue. Whatever it was, the Duke dominated the conversation on half of the royal table.

The other half of the table held much more varying conversations. High Praise chatted with North Star and joked with Silverstar, managing to get the cynical stallion to crack a humoured smile more than once – a respectable achievement. The Marshall and the Empress spent much of the feast entertaining the little foal between them. Twilight listened to Silverstar’s anecdotes and Nightmare Moon’s commentary of many of the key figures of the banquet, both informative and as enjoyable for the filly. 

The Inquisitor had already found it curious that Blueblood’s wife had sat with North Star. He grew truly intrigued when, after the Empress had finished her toast, they burst into lively conversation, whispering and gossiping and laughing and paying little attention to personal space. He strained to hear them, but they were too far away from him and their voices did not carry over the din of multiple dinner-table conversations. 

They ate their fill and talked the afternoon away until dessert came. While many diners were content with the main course, most continued the time-honoured holiday tradition of glutting their already stuffed bellies on sweets. The selection was delectable: mince pies and yule log cakes and spongy rolls and, of course, brandy-soaked Hearthswarming puddings. 

As he savoured each bite of his pudding, the Inquisitor noted with some amusement that Twilight Sparkle had already scarfed down her yule log and was eyeing Silverstar’s untouched dessert hopefully. The old marshall laughed at her expression, but he gave her guardian a wary look.

“I’m not sure if Her Majesty would like you to have this. It’s alcoholic.”

Several pairs of eyes turned to the Empress. 
“Oh, go ahead,” she said after some moment’s thought. “She’s only had a mouthful or so of wine, a cake infused with a little bit of brandy will not hurt her.”

Twilight’s gratitude was expressed in a joyful cry and she dove for the treat. The Inquisitor smiled and looked about the room. It was a wonderful time of year – small wonder that winter was Nightmare Moon’s favourite season. Faces usually bereft of smiles like Silverstar and Duke Blueblood, bogged down in politics as they were, beamed. Blueblood was laughing at some joke King Winfred had cracked. Duchess Lyrica and the Hierophant snickered at some shared jest, likely at the expense of one of their fellow diners. High Praise, Nightmare Moon and Silverstar all chuckled at the wonderfully foalish lack of propriety with which Twilight tackled her dessert. Beyond the dais, every face was lit with merriment as they filled themselves with good food and good company.

A fit of coughing brought his attention back to the royal table. Twilight clutched at her chest with teary eyes and Nightmare Moon clicked her tongue.

“I did warn you about eating too quickly, did I not, Twilight?”

The filly gave no response. Her coughs quickly faded into choked gasps and her moist eyes went wide and red with panic.

Nightmare Moon slapped her apprentice’s back. “Twilight?”

An unexpected burst of fear gripped the Inquisitor’s heart as Twilight’s face turned a blotchy red. He knew these symptoms better than most. He leapt from his seat, his horn spilling forth antidotal magic just as Twilight fell wheezing to the floor. Nightmare Moon’s scream shook the hall.

“TWILIGHT!”