Luna let out another yawn as she looked down at her painting, trying unsuccessfully to stifle a second yawn with her hoof. She gave her head a most unprincesslike shake, trying to jar the cobwebs of sleep from her mind. As an immortal, sleep was something she could go with far less than most, but after repeated days of shortened sleep schedules thanks to all the excitement in the palace combined of course with her nightly duties of guiding the moon through the sky, she was feeling slightly less energetic than normal.

She smiled as she lifted her brush, tapping it lightly against the canvas and leaving a small swath of dark green paint, a perfect shadow on her subject. She sat back, examining the overall effect. It was, she decided after a moment, most excellent. But perhaps another touch there— she lifted a second brush, changing paints and making another small touch. Have care, she reminded herself as the brush swept over her creation. Too much can be worse than too little.

Luna set the brush down, feeling a sense of pride as she looked at her work. There was just one last detail to attend to now, a detail that required a personal touch. She bent over, picking up the smallest and finest of her brushes between her teeth, dabbing its thin bristles in paint. Magic worked, but sometimes … Sometimes the personal touch just helped. Or she liked to think it did. She leaned forward, carefully moving the brush in tiny, even strokes as she added the final details to her work, pausing every so often to switch paints.

There was a knock at the door. “Come in,” Luna said, not taking her eyes from her work. Muted hoofsteps reached her ears as somepony entered the room.

“Good evening, Tia,” Luna said, not needing to look to know who would enter her private study this early in her day without announcement.

“Good evening, Luna,” Celestia said, moving up alongside the desk. “I see you’ve found a new muse.” Luna pulled back for a moment and smiled, not wanting to run the risk of making a mistake.

“Yes,” she said, catching the paintbrush in her magic. “I felt it would be appropriate, given all that’s happened.” She stretched her jaw, contorting her face and getting a giggle from her sister.

“Perhaps we could hang it in one of the lower halls?” Celestia suggested, tilting her head to one side as she looked at Luna’s work.

Luna shook her head. “No, I think I may make a gift of it instead.” She plucked the paintbrush back up in her teeth, leaning forward and making another small motion, paint sliding from the tip with delicate care.

“Really?” Celestia asked. “To whom?”

“To the Dusk Guard themselves,” Luna said, her final stroke completed. There was only one thing left to do now. She picked up a very special brush, one used only for certain occasions, and dabbed it in a silvery paint she’d mixed herself a few minutes earlier.

“In honor of the original members of the Dusk Guard,” she wrote in sweeping, silver letters before jumping a line lower, “and their sacrifices to protect Equestria.” She jumped one line further down, signing her own name with a flourish.

“Princess Luna, Regent of the Night,” Celestia read, looking over at her with a smile. “Hundreds of years from now, dozens of museums will be competing to display this.”

“And they will never have it, Tia,” Luna said, her horn glowing an effervescent blue as she applied preservative spells to her work, sealing it from the ravages of time and age. “I only want this painting to be displayed in one place.” Her horn gave a final, vibrant flash in sync with the painting as the final spell sank in.

“And where would that be, sister?” Celestia asked.

Luna smiled. “In whatever barracks the Dusk Guard have, from now until the end,” she said, smiling at her sister. The painting floated off of her easel, a nearby hidden cabinet sliding open.

“And when will you give it to them?” Tia asked, a bemused expression on her face.

“When the time is right, Tia,” Luna said, taking one last look at the six smiling faces staring out from the painting. It was a simple painting, straightforward, the six members of the Dusk Guard arrayed in front of their barracks, the new symbol of their Guard office silhouetted behind them in the sky. Each of them was standing at attention, but at the same time each of them was smiling in their own way.

Smiles were sometimes the hardest to paint, Luna knew. They captured the soul of a pony’s joy, and yet with this painting she had done it. Captain Steel with his firm but unyielding look of satisfaction. Sky Bolt with her unrestrained enthusiasm. Nova with his sly, knowing grin. Dawn with her nobility. Sabra with his simple, content expression. Hunter with his massive grin as common on his face as his hat.

Luna slid the cabinet door shut. Someday, when the time was right, she’d present the painting to them. Something to remember their adventures by, something they could hang in the barracks to inspire new members of the Dusk Guard. Because as the years went on, there would be new members of the Dusk Guard. She was sure of it.

“Luna, if I might ask you a question?”

Luna turned to his sister, smiling even as she mentally checked the location of the moon. Sunset was going to be soon. “Of course, Tia,” she said. “Anything.”

“Did you know,” Celestia ventured, “exactly what was going to happen when you chose Steel, when you initially came to the idea of forming the Dusk Guard?”

“Did I know what, Tia?” Luna asked, batting her eyes innocently.

“What would happen, that Steel would find somepony to fill the void, that the ponies he chose would each find something about themselves in the journey? Because if you did,” Celestia said, “that would be an impressive amount of planning on your part.”

“Why, Tia,” Luna said, giving her sister a smirk similar to the one that Nova had given her the night before when he’d successfully beaten her in a hand of poker. “Whatever do you mean?” She bolted from her study, laughing at Celestia’s surprise.

“Wait! Luna!” Celestia called, racing after her. “Luna! Come back here!” Luna let out a laugh as her sister followed her through the halls of the palace.

Mint grunted in disgust as her grip slipped, water from her canteen slopping out to run down the side of her face. It felt cool in the harsh desert heat, but that wasn’t the point. It was unseemly, crude. She sniffed, throwing her nose in the air as she replaced the cap, levitating it back into her pack.

That, and she couldn’t afford to waste any of her precious water supply. It had only been twelve hours since she’d escaped from the Royal Guard's holding cell, and she was already halfway across Equestria, but word would spread. Her picture would be in every paper now. She was just lucky that they’d considered her sister the dangerous one, left the “kind, innocent, and abused” younger sister alone. She let out a harsh laugh. Ignorant foals, she thought resuming her southern trek. They’ll know soon enough.

If they didn’t already know. She was frankly amazed that they hadn’t. She’d been playing the poor younger sister act as hard as she could, trying to curry an innocent look, and it had worked! They’d know the truth soon enough. The sketchbook that the Dusk Guard had waved around had her name written in the back. A grim smile worked its way across her face as she climbed over another pile of rocks. And they’d thought her sister had come up with that stuff? Hah!

Sure, it had been Radiant’s idea, and she’d built them, but it had been Mint’s designs, Mint’s plans. Not past the metal golems however, she reflected, her face turning down. That was when things had started to go sour. All those crystals Radiant had enchanted had gone to her head, breaking something in her mind.

“It’s a shame she wasn’t as strong as I am, isn’t it?” she asked as she scrambled over another boulder, scraping her hooves against the stone.

Yes, it most certainly is, she thought back. Radiant was, unfortunately, more magically skilled than I am. But she couldn’t handle the enchanting the way I did.

Mint smiled even as her hoof came down hard on an errant rock, sending a lance of pain up her leg. “Yes, she wasn’t as strong. She may have done more crystals, but I was close, and I didn’t go mad.” She let out a laugh. “I was strong!”

And I’d know if I’d gone mad, she thought as she scrambled over the rocks. Radiant was all grandiose. Completely forgot the plan! It was a simple plan. Steal, take over company and introduce metal golems as personal enforcers and conductors.

“But no!” she said, stretching out the syllables like she was a schoolyard filly. Which she wasn’t! “Radiant had to go and start making bigger golems, bigger plans. I’ll show her!” Mint let out a cry of shock as the ground gave out underneath her, dropping her to her belly as she slid down the rough stone.

“Stupid Blade,” she barked out as she came to a stop. “If you hadn’t betrayed me...”

She’d learned now. Never hire a griffon. Honor, what a stupid concept. She’d tried to pay Blade a little visit after she’d broken out, a quick stop in her otherwise simple plan, but the griffon hadn’t been in her cell. It hadn’t even been locked. “Stupid griffon,” Mint said, her hooves sliding against the dry dirt. “Wouldn’t even help me after you’d broken out.”

Mint looked up at the sun, scowling. How many days had it been since she’d given herself up? Three? Four? It didn’t matter anymore. She pulled her canteen from her saddlebags, another mouthful of warm water running down her parched throat.

“Stupid sister,” she said, draining the last dregs of the canteen. “So crazy you didn’t even plan ahead. Did you hide teleport-enchanted crystals around Canterlot in case you needed an escape?” She sneered at a nearby rock formation, for a moment imagining it as her sister and giving it a kick. “No, you didn’t!” she said as the rocks scattered. “I did! Did you get Mimo mining to leave behind their supplies in case you needed them? No, I did!”

She spit a mouthful of water at the rocks, laughing as she imagined her sister sputtering. Sure, she’d saved money with her fake company by leaving the supplies when she’d burned it all, but that didn’t matter. She smiled as she thought back. Literally burned it. All the records, gone, in little black ashy bits. She couldn’t even remember what had happened to the ponies she’d ‘hired’ to run the place. She remembered telling the golems to take care of them, but if they’d done anything about it, she really didn’t care.

And now she was in the Badlands, down past the last vestiges of civilization save a few Ranger stations and those crazy buffalo. It was a safe place. Hot, yes. Unsanitary, also yes. She wiped a bit of dirt from her hoof. Still, from here, she had opportunity. She wasn’t back in a cell waiting for some psychiatrist who would pretend she had mental issues from crystal-work so that they could lock her away or turn her to stone or something else truly horrid.

No, she was free, free to work, to start again. The golems had worked yes, but they’d been basic. Servile. Unintelligent. What she wanted—no, what she needed, was something more. The crystal armor that those ponies had been wearing. It was a unique idea. Perhaps she could do something with that. And as far as docile, willing servants, well ...

Mint smiled as she peaked atop another pile of boulders, spotting a clear hole in the ground in front of her. Everypony always complained about the Diamond Dog tribes didn’t they? They were practically leaderless. Which meant they just needed a good enough leader, didn’t it? And they loved shiny things. They had plenty of crystals, surely some of them could be enchanted. And crystal armor? They’d adore it.

Mint smiled as she took a final draw from her canteen, emptying it and tossing it aside as she slid down the rock face towards the Diamond Dog burrow. They were perfect. They would adore—no—worship her for what she could do for them! And in turn, she could make them far greater than they ever were. Maybe someday she’d even get her sister back.

In the setting sunlight of the Equestrian Badlands, Mint smiled.

She was free.