Moonstone – Chapter 1: No big surprise

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Fleur was dissatisfied. Not just with the current state of things, but with life in general. She woke in the morning with headaches and went to bed at night dreading the next day. Not a single thing, it seemed, was worthwhile anymore. Her husband, Fancy Pants, was insufferable as of late. He would stay out late handling business with his various and assorted charities. More often than not, Fleur would accompany him.

’Smile for the pretty ponies. Smile and show them how happy we are.’ He was incorrigible. He used to whisper those words in her ear as they stood at the fore of some new banquet or charity drive. Every single one of those damnable functions she attended, Fleur could find herself caring less and less for the problems of Canterlot. As she rolled out of bed that morning, she was alone once more.

“Probably drank too much last night… Stayed at a hotel or something.” Fleur muttered to herself. She smoothed and set the bed with a quick glimmer of magic before setting about her morning routine. Something caught her eye on the way to the bathroom, though. She glanced at the small vanity she had in their bedroom, frowning at the previously-unnoticed slip of paper that was tacked to her calendar. Everything she had planned for that day had been cancelled. She frowned at the blank space on her calendar. No spa appointments, dinners, banquets, charities, social functions, or engagements. Nothing whatsoever.

She flipped the page back. The entire month was filled with times. The month before that, too. And the one before that. Everything Fleur had done that entire year was painted out in the small white squares from day to day for the past six months. Now that it was July, this was the first day she had had without any social obligations. No appointments to make. She was free. For one whole day, she was completely, totally, and entirely free.

Almost as if by habit, Fleur walked to the bedroom window and threw the heavy drapes aside. The morning was bright and sunny, and as she opened the window, a fresh breeze wafted in, lifting her mane off of her neck a little. It was a beautiful day outside, and she had no obligations. With a slight frown, Fleur began to wonder; how long had it been since her last day off?

Just last night she had been at a silent auction for the schools, and the night before had been a formal dinner party at Hoity Toity’s home. Not to mention during the day, she was all but forced to figure out her husband’s schedule, running all over the city to speak with ponies or send letters. Looking back, Fleur realized she hadn’t had any time to herself to relax or unwind. This most definitely called for something special. A thought struck her then, and she let a small smile grace her lips. She would start with a shower. A long shower.

She turned from the window; brushing straight past the preparation table where she would normally ready herself for showering. Fleur turned the water on hot, filling the bathroom with steam almost immediately. She stepped under the scalding stream slowly at first, making several small adjustments to the temperature until it was just where she wanted it. Sighing contentedly under the soothing rain of hot water, Fleur slowly sank to her haunches and let the stress wash away.

As the hot water glided over her frumpy coat, slowly setting it back in place, Fleur’s horn began to glow. She used a simple field of telekinesis to rub her entire body down, smoothing the hectic strands of hair all over her body into their proper place. Running about all night made one’s coat clump up and bunch in places it ought not to have. Particularly around her hindquarters. She drew her lip between her teeth as the first layer of magical pressure slid down her left hind leg, and again down her right. This was a natural part of grooming herself for the day, of course, but given today was no ordinary day, this was no ordinary grooming.

Fleur’s magic began to inch closer and closer to places she wouldn’t dare admit to the other socialites of Canterlot. A heat began to build in her stomach, an irrevocable desire for satisfaction. Making love to Fancy Pants was almost always a one-sided ordeal. He was surprisingly traditional, and never engaged in intercourse any way other than from behind. He would mount her, go at it until he came, and then roll over and go to sleep. In fact, Fleur couldn’t recall ever having achieved orgasm with him. No matter how hard she thought, she couldn’t bring herself to recall any remotely pleasurable experience. Not with her mate, anyways. There were several forays in the shower, such as the one she stood in right now, that stood out in her mind.

Fleur decided it was time to add to that frustratingly short list. With a pent-up sigh of fulfilled desire, she let her magic slide up her leg to caress the tender folds of her marehood. The glistening pink lips were already flared with arousal, and as she caressed them with a gentle field of magic, she could feel some sort of liquid that was not from the shower. Her own arousal was slick and rather enjoyable to manipulate. Her horn glowed a little brighter as she guided the telekinetic field against herself more firmly, she gave a breathy gasp, accompanied by a strength-robbing shudder of pleasure.

Enough of the foreplay. Fleur thought to herself. Time to get serious. Some small, nagging doubt in the back of her mind said she had time, a whole day in fact, to enjoy this. But another, more ravenous part of her psyche took hold of her magic. She cried out as a firm pressure, long and thin, forced its way inside of her. Almost of its own accord. The first lancing bit of pleasure shot almost directly to her temples, making her head swim. The sudden sensation of being so completely filled was almost too much for her to handle. She felt her knees shudder and nearly give out. What was it that was causing her to act so out-of-character?

Upon closer introspection, Fleur realized she didn’t care. Fancy was almost always rough and callous in his ministrations, so she was moderately dulled to the sudden violation. But more than the uncaring way her husband made love to her, there was something else to this. Something primal and basic. Passionate. She forced her magic deeper and deeper into her marehood, groaning as the pleasure filled her entire body. Eventually, her legs did give out and she collapsed onto the floor of the shower, feeling the cold tile press against her stomach. But she didn’t need to be standing for this. She didn’t even need to move her tail. She cried out as her magic continued to pulse in and out, without much input from herself. It moved faster. Harder. Deeper. She grit her teeth and closed her eyes, trying to fight the impending sense of release. She had all day to enjoy herself, there was no need to rush things.

Eventually, she failed. With one last cry of fulfilled desire, Fleur emitted a thin stream of clear liquid. She emptied her lungs twice with a loud and long cry of wanton ecstasy. Both screams echoed off of the tile walls, amplifying to a much louder exclamation than could possibly have been considered decent, let alone presentable. At long last, she finished her orgasm, laying on the floor of the shower with her legs splayed out at odd angles.

But it came back. She felt the all-too-familiar desire for release. Her lips ached to be touched. She drew her lower lip between her teeth once more and smoothly rolled onto her back. The water fell directly onto her stomach and ribcage, running down her sides in rivulets. A fair amount of it fell down between her legs as well, running in small streams over her spread labia. The sensation was addictive. She groaned and moved her hooves down her chest, caressing the sodden strands of her coat the entire way. This was a job better suited for her magic, but she wanted to use her hooves. Just this once. Giving one last sigh of eager anticipation, she set in on herself.

The edge of her hoof slid over her labia, accumulating a small amount of her arousal. She then set in on finding her clitoris, not an easy task with clumsy hooves. She passed over the bundle of nerves several times before finally finding a good spot. Biting her lower lip hard, Fleur began grinding against the spot, using her hoof to flick the small nub of flesh back and forth. Pleasure shot through her body fast and hard, robbing her senses and leaving her a whimpering mess. Shuddering and panting with reckless abandon, she continued rubbing the spot, harder and faster. The primal sense of need filled her senses once more as she again abandoned all pretense of drawing this out. She started panting louder, until each exhalation came with a soft cry. She moved her hoof faster. She cried louder. Time and again, she felt the pleasure build to a head, only to stop just short of tipping over the edge.

It began to anger her. Whenever she got close, her hoof would turn into a blur of motion, only to stop short as she got too wild. She’d slide off and miss her clit, rubbing instead the soft mound of flesh surrounding her marehood. She would curse out loud and find it again, having backed away from the edge. The shower resounded with her cries of ‘Fuck!’ and ‘Damnit!’ At long last, she finally found a way. Her magic took over, roughly flicking her swollen clitoris until she arched her back with a long, loud cry.

The wall of the shower was suddenly painted with her juices, and this time, she could hear the liquid as it impacted the warm tile. The erotic sound of her ejaculation was a pleasant underline to the entire scenario, and she found herself grinning stupidly in the aftermath of her second orgasm. As she lay under the shower’s stream, soaking up the heat and moisture, she found herself feeling happy. Fulfilled, even. All the stress of the past months of busy-body work had led to this moment. No, this entire day.

Slowly, on weak legs, she stood and finished cleaning herself up, taking a long while to scrub her entire body with a gentle soap. Finally, when she was clean and rinsed off with no evidence of her masturbation session, she turned the water off and dried herself with a nifty little spell she had picked up from a friend. The house was quiet as she left the master bedroom and made her way down to the kitchen. Her stomach ached for a decent meal, and as she surveyed the kitchen’s fridge for a potential meal, a plan began to form in her mind. She pulled out eggs, lettuce, onions, green peppers, potatoes, and all manner of delicious breakfast foods. She made a full meal and ate it all, ignoring the silly calorie count in favor of indulging. Just this once. Just today.

After the full breakfast, she retired to the library. Normally, she would have had to work out for almost the entire morning to offset indulging in such a meal. She had a neat and trim figure that was quite often the envy of many other mares. She paid for it with plenty of sweat and time spent on treadmills or various workout apparatus. But not this day. Today, she had a different plan in mind. Carrying a bottle of good wine into the library, Fleur browsed the seldom-seen romance section of their small collection, and settled on some trashy romance novel with plenty of steamy sex and hot colts. As she settled on the comfortable chair beside an unlit fireplace, she felt a small bit of guilt. She was going to spend this entire day drinking wine and fantasizing about a different life. A life with some hunky colt who whispered sweet nothings into her ear and told her how beautiful she was. She thought she might have gotten just that with Fancy Pants, but the past few years had proven her wrong.

As she made her way through the first glass and the first few chapters, she couldn’t remove the smile from her face. A whole day with no obligations, no appointments, no engagements. She didn’t have to groom her coat and put make up on and dress in expensive clothes. She could do anything she wanted. And for that day, Fleur wanted to get drunk, and get wet.

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The day was over before it really seemed to begin. As she closed the last page on the book, the sun had just sunk below the horizon. She made a moderate dinner for herself and returned to the library to clean up what little mess she had made. The bottle of wine was half-empty now, and she felt rather tipsy. Rather than make a fool of herself and try to go out that evening, she retired for an early bedtime. Only now, she wasn’t alone.

“Fancy.” She breathed, stopping short at the sight of her husband. “When did you get home?”

“Just now.” The white colt grunted. Through a half-lidded drunken gaze, she watched as he lifted the skirt of the bed up, and pulled something out from underneath.

“Where were you?” Not that she cared, but some part of her mind told her she should have cared. Or at least, a good wife should have cared.

“Trottingham.” Fancy replied, glancing at her. He paused then, taking in the state of her. “You look terrible.” Fleur felt the heat of embarrassment and anger raise to her cheeks, and she frowned at Fancy Pants.

“I’ve been drinking.” She said defensively. “And I had nothing planned for today.”

“Really?” Fancy shook his head. “A fine lie. You look like you’ve been crying. You’re helpless without me, aren’t you?”

“What?” Fleur flustered as he went back to hauling whatever it was underneath the bed out. “What are you doing?”

“Leaving.”

”What?!” Fleur’s drunken mind scrambled about trying to make sense of what he had just said. “Are you leaving, leaving, or do you have a meeting? What were you doing in Trottingham? Fancy, talk to me. I’m your wife, for pony’s sake!”

“Not for much longer.” Fancy used his magic to lift a large suitcase onto the bed, grunting with the effort. Fleur watched, completely dumbstruck, as he tossed open the lid and made his way to his dresser. “I’m leaving to live in Trottingham, Fleur.”

“Why?” Despite her anger and carelessness towards her borderline negligent husband, Fleur felt tears build up in her eyes. “What’s in Trottingham?” Even though she was drunk, the gears clicked, and she made a connection. This wasn’t the first time he had been out all night. Nor was it the first he had come home late. Over the months, Fleur recalled the amount of times he had been ‘out drinking’ and gotten ‘too drunk to come home.’ Or when he had to leave for an ‘extended charity drive’ in another city. How could she have been so blind?

“Another mare.” She choked, feeling several tears spill out of her eyes. “You’ve been seeing another mare, haven’t you?”

“Took you long enough. Honestly, you’re pretty dumb when it comes to reading other ponies.” Fancy rolled his eyes as he began levitating his clothes into the open suitcase. Fleur watched an endless stream of shirts, pants, hoof cuffs, collars, ties, and other high-class apparel make their way into the suitcase. Fancy sounded like he was about to launch into some sort of tirade against her. Fleur’s eyes blurred with tears, and as she blinked to free them, they spilled down her cheeks to the carpet below.

“Don’t start.” Fleur growled, slowly crossing the carpet towards the hall. “Just take your things and get out.”

“Hhmph.” Fancy didn’t look very pleased at being cut off like that, but Fleur didn’t want to look at him any longer than was absolutely necessary. Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was her disgust with him, but her dinner was fighting to make a return, and not from the proper hole either. She dry heaved a few times, retching on the spot before dashing to the bathroom. “Pathetic.” She heard Fancy mutter as she pushed through the door. After heaving everything she had, Fleur wiped her mouth and face and returned to her bedroom.

“I know this is your family’s home, so I’ll not make a big deal of things. But I will have a moving company come to fetch my belongings. The desk, this dresser, so on and so forth. I hope you’ll be civil about it.”

“I’ll be fine.” Fleur shot at him. And the day had been going so well, too… She wondered what the social repercussions of this new development were going to be. Fancy Pants was, regrettably, a well-known name among the socialites of Canterlot. Hers was almost hoof-in-hoof with his, and there was seldom a function that she couldn’t be found far from his shoulder, with a beguiling smile and a knack for witty conversation. Now, it seemed, she’d have to go it alone. The implications were astounding.

“Here.” Fancy held something in his magic. As she watched, he tossed it to her, and she caught it with her own. She held the small object up to her eyes, and saw it was his ring. “I won’t be needing that lie anymore. Heh. She thought it was so pretty, too.” His smug expression disgusted her.

“Who is it?” Fleur choked, feeling the tears come on once more.

“You wouldn’t know her. Her family owns the museum.”

“Who is it.” Fleur repeated, taking a step closer to him.

“Her name is Melody.” Fancy frowned at her. She could see his defenses rising.

“Keep this.” Fleur returned the ring to him, her horn glowing as she opened the drawer to her bedside table. She pulled her own ring out as well. “And give her this one. I really don’t think it matters who it belongs to. At least, it hasn’t so far.” Fleur dropped both the rings on the floor at his hooves. “Now get out of my home. And don’t you ever return.”

Clearly, he was shocked. She could see it in his eyes. He didn’t expect any retort from her. By the look of his expression, he halfway expected her to be completely distraught by the news. Crippled, even. And the way he had spoken to her earlier indicated he thought she was helpless on her own, that she had been crying the whole day at his absence. Fleur was truly, honestly disgusted by him. She hadn’t really suspected much, other than the quick, almost primal intuition. To her, this was honestly a fairly large surprise.

But it was not unwelcome. As she stood there, staring Fancy Pants down, she felt a righteous sort of anger fill her chest. She wanted to hurt this pony. But that would not stand. The authorities would surely hear about the disturbance, and that was a price she didn’t want to pay. Instead, she would show this colt, this despicable, disgusting excuse for a pony, how independent she was. Fancy stood there, beside his still-open suitcase, looking down at the rings and back up at Fleur. After a while, he finally worked up the courage to speak.

“I’m sorry-“

“No you’re not.” Fleur cut him off, her frown intensifying. “Don’t you dare say you’re sorry. Just leave, Fancy.”

“I- I don’t-“

“Leave.” Fleur repeated herself, taking a step forward. Fancy retreated two steps. “Take your clothes, take your furniture,” She continued advancing. “Take your damnable ring and your disgusting looks,” Fancy was backed up against the wall. She stepped forward until she was face-to-face, her muzzle a mere inch from his. “And just. Fucking. Leave.”

“Fleur, I-“

”LEAVE!” Fleur’s horn glowed brilliantly as she snapped the lid to his suitcase closed, gripped the collar of his shirt and flung them both out into the hall. He stumbled but didn’t fall, turning back to her with a wide-eyed, shocked expression. She stood in the doorway, hooves spread, chest heaving, with a wild look in her eyes. At this rate, she just might end up hurting him. Or being hurt. Either way, she didn’t care. She just wanted him gone. Six years of devotion to him and his stupid charities and social functions. Six years of driving herself up the wall just so the two of them could be the center of adoration at a dinner party. Six years of idle gossip and mind-numbing conversation with less intelligent mares and stallions who would just as soon spend their money on some new bit of jewelry than having a little bit of actual fun.

Six years of being nothing more than a trophy wife. To Fancy, she was nothing more than another piece of jewelry, another suit, another facet of his mask that he wore for the benefit of the public.

Slowly, Fancy Pants lifted his suitcase and trudged down the hall. Fleur followed him, watching as he made his way through the foyer and out into the hot Canterlot night. He stopped at the doorway, looking up at her standing at the top of the stairwell. He opened his mouth to say something, but Fleur slammed the door in his face. She wasn’t entirely sure how she made it, but she soon found herself on her bed, tears streaming from her eyes.

Yet, at the heart of it all, Fleur could honestly say she wasn’t sad at her husband’s betrayal. In fact, as she reigned in her tears and looked at her social calendar, Fleur felt… Happy. She was independent. For the first time since graduating, she was completely and totally independent. As her exhausted, drunken, tired body finally got the better of her, she nodded off to sleep, alone in her bed.

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She dreamt of freedom. She was running, fast as her legs could carry her, but not away from anything or anypony. She was running just for the sake of running. Her mane whipped in the air behind her, tugging at her scalp. The feeling of speed and exhilaration was addictive. She spurred herself faster, cresting a hill and running down the other side. All around her were flowers. Daisies and dandelions, and as she flew past them, they shed their white seeds into the air, blowing in her wake. She never felt out-of-control or reckless. Instead, she felt perfectly happy.

The air smelled of freshly-cut grass and the heady, musky scent of roses. It was intoxicating, and drove her further. She was soon in the middle of a forest, weaving in and out of the tree trunks along a path she felt like she knew as well as the back of her own hoof. Smiling and laughing with glee, Fleur continued to run and laugh as if she were a foal on the last day of school, until she noticed something was beside her. She didn’t know who it was. In the dark shadows beneath the trees, she didn’t care. It followed her, ran alongside her, or at times, even led her through the winding trees.

The dark figure was not ominous, however. Fleur welcomed its presence, and chased after it with all she was worth. They leapt over small streams and pounded away up sharp inclines. The thrill of chasing and being chased was not lost on Fleur. She laughed and squealed with delight as the mysterious shadow would catch her, tagging her flank with an outstretched hoof before dashing off. Every time she tried to tag the figure back, her hoof swung through nothing as easily as it would through air, but the shadow would turn and chase her nevertheless. They played tag among the trees, running for what felt like ages.

They began to run faster and more frantically. Fleur was panting with exertion, but her muscles felt strong and able. They darted between trees and around boulders. Fleur felt a panicked sense of need, like she had to catch the figure, or something terrible would happen. Her heart pounded, and she tried harder and harder to catch her quarry. They left the forest, running along a rocky cliff side. Fleur made impossible jumps onto boulders, covering gaps no unicorn could ever hope to make. But her target was just as fast as she was. They ran until the forest was long behind them, but Fleur began to gain on them.

“Hah!” With a cry of triumph, Fleur flung herself over one last gap, wrapping her forelegs around the dark shadow. As she hugged the figure, though, her legs shifted through the dark shadow, leaving her with nothing in her embrace. And nothing caught her fall, either. She gasped as the rush of wind intensified, and she plummeted over the edge of the cliff. Twisting in mid-air, she saw the figure standing above her on the rocks, watching her fall.

She woke before she hit the ground. Panting and frenzied, she laid a hoof over her thundering heart and fought to keep herself from panicking. After a few minutes of reconciling all that had happened in her dream and last night, she managed to bring herself under control. Shaken but not distraught, Fleur began to prepare for her day. The memory of Fancy’s betrayal was still very fresh, and what’s worse, she had a formal dinner to attend at Canterlot castle.

It was going to be a very, very long day.

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“You can’t tell me you were surprised, darling.” Gem was probably Fleur’s one and only true friend in all of Canterlot. She was the one pony Fleur found less insufferable than the other socialites she was all but forced to be around. While Gem and Fleur started off with a sort of rivalry, trying to determine which one amongst them was better-suited to the high-end lifestyle of Canterlot, they had eventually become friends. It was tentative at first, and they had had their fair share of arguments. But after plenty of forgiveness and a few spa trips, the two became rather close.

Gem, or Gemstone, was the wife of a famous jeweler in Canterlot. While they catered to all budgets, they were renowned for their expensive and immaculate pieces. As a matter of fact, Fancy Pants had bought both their rings from Gem’s husband, Diamond Cutter. Diamond was somewhat of a recluse, leaving Gem to handle the social aspect of their business. It was lucrative, and the two lived in a home every bit as extravagant as the one Fleur now occupied by herself. Luckily enough, Fleur had managed to meet her friend outside of the castle, and the two of them approached the banquet hall together.

“What do you mean?” Fleur was slightly taken aback by Gem’s nonchalant shrug.

“The signs were pretty obvious, Fleur. Long nights, no calls, no messages, ‘staying in a hotel with his friends because he was too drunk to come home.’ I’d hate to say it, but quite a few ponies had their suspicions, myself included. I didn’t say anything because, well, even the strongest suspicions could easily have been wrong.”

“No matter.” Fleur sighed, hanging her head with resignation. “I suspected something myself, though it was only in passing to be honest. I suppose I’ll just have to deal with the consequences of being this ignorant for this long.” Despite her newfound sense of freedom, Fleur did feel rather downtrodden. Six years of a devout relationship, and she had been betrayed. To be perfectly honest, she thought she deserved to be angry. Still, there were already a few guests who were looking her way with concerned frowns on their faces, curious at her lack of a partner. Save Gem, of course, but they weren’t married. And Gem’s name didn’t carry half the weight Fancy’s did. He had been the benefactor of multiple charities and organized some of the most prominent social functions of the past six years. People were still talking about how well-put-together the last Grand Galloping Gala was, and that had been his effort as well.

Scratch that. Had been their effort. Fleur’s frown intensified as she and Gem mounted the steps leading to the double doors of the banquet hall. “Hey,” Gem nudged her flank gently. “Smile. If you don’t, they’ll suspect something’s wrong.”

“He isn’t here. Of course they’re going to think something’s wrong, Gem.” Fleur muttered under her breath as they passed two guards stationed at the door. She glanced over her shoulder at them before leaning in to Gem once more. “I think I’ve earned the right to appear brooding for an evening. Or a hundred.”

“True.” Gem muttered, though she shot Fleur a warm smile anyways. “But they’re used to seeing your smile. You should do it anyways, if only to please them.”

“I think I’m done pleasing others,” Fleur sighed. “I think I’m about ready to please myself.” She got a look from Gem that was scandalously suggestive. “Not like that. Oh, you know what I meant!” She huffed and strode forward, leaving Gem behind with a soft laugh and a healthy smile. Fleur, however, didn’t lose her frown. She glowered all the way to the designated table with her name and Fancy’s written on an elegant greeting card. As she took her chair, she tipped the card onto its face and hung her head.

“Fleur De Lis? My goodness, what fortune! I’m glad to see my request was honored.” She looked up as an alien voice crossed her ears. Some strange pony she had never met before took the seat opposite her, smiling as he pocketed the card with his name. She hadn’t read it, but it didn’t matter, as he introduced himself straightaway. “My name is Barter. Pleased to meet you at last!” He was a bubbly pegasus with a rich brown coat and a slender frame. His wide smile was almost sickening. She thought she could see her reflection in his perfect, pearly teeth. It was disconcerting, to say the least.

“Likewise.” Fleur fought to put a smile on her face, but only managed a flat expression. “You’ll be sharing dinner with me this evening, I presume?” This business about a request had her on edge, which wasn’t helping her already-sad demeanor.

“It seems that way. But, if you don’t mind my asking, where is your husband? Fancy Pants? I dare say I had a business proposition for him…”

“He’s… Gone.” Fleur alluded, her frown returning. “I’m afraid I’m here alone this evening. Though, if you’d care to tell it to me, I’d be happy to hear your proposition. I dare say I could handle it myself, even.”

“That’d be lovely. But later. For now, why don’t we get to know one another?” Barter beamed at her, and she fought to keep from retching. His smile reminded her of Fancy. He went on to introduce himself at length, telling her how he was a broker for high-end businesses that were looking to expand, particularly into other cities like Manehattan or Baltimare. At that, she stopped him.

“Quick question.” She lifted a hoof. “Do you do business in Trottingham?”

“Ma’am, I’m from Trottingham. In fact, that’s why I wanted to speak with Fancy Pants here today! Imagine my thanks when I saw I was going to be seated here with you. But rumor had it Fancy was looking at expanding into Trottingham. I asked the organizer of this little dinner if I might sit at the same table as him. I had a proposition for starting a new charity function in my own hometown.”

“This charity didn’t involve the museum by any chance, did it?” Fleur narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

“As a matter of fact, it did! I heard a rumor he was interested in the museum.”

“Uh huh.” Fleur’s frown could have wilted flowers. Her face was stoic and cold. If she were a poker player, she would be indomitable. Underneath that frown, she wanted nothing more than to beat this pony senseless. Instead, she sighed and looked back up at him. “Well, if you give me your address, I’d be happy to send a memo with his new mailing address.” Barter frowned for the first time since he had sat down.

“New mailing address? Is he moving? Will you be moving with him?”

“No,” Fleur groaned, feeling the beginning of a vicious headache. “I’m afraid I will be staying here in Canterlot.”

“Is everything okay between you two?” Barter’s question came with another sickening smile. That wasn’t the sort of question one should be smiling at. It was almost as if he knew something. Fleur looked back at him with a cold expression.

“As a matter of fact, it is not. I’m afraid we’re going through a divorce.”

“You don’t say.” A new voice reached Fleur’s ears, and this one she was almost sickeningly familiar with. Slowly, she turned her head, watching as Hoity Toity took the seat immediately to her left. He picked up his own card and tucked it into the breast pocket of his trendy dinner coat, giving Fleur a fake, warm smile. “Such a tragedy, dear. I’m so sorry to hear about your relationship troubles.”

She could taste the insincerity on his voice. It made her stomach turn.

“Yes, it is unfortunate.” Fleur grimaced at Hoity. He was the one pony Fleur knew she wanted on her side. Not because he was a good ally, but because he would be a very mean enemy. Then again, the way he was acting, he had everything but sympathy for her plight. She forced a painfully insincere and fake smile onto her face. “But I think I’ll make it through. I’m just so shocked that he would have done such a thing. To think. Six years of marriage, down the drain.”

“Yes, it was such a tragedy.” Hoity waved his hoof dramatically. “I can’t possibly imagine what you’re going through right now. It must be so hard.” He was being sarcastic. And not very tactful about it, either. Fleur fought to keep from vomiting all over his expensive, greasy face.

“I’m so sorry, Miss De Lis. My heart goes out to you in this troublesome time.” Barter chimed in, reaching his hoof across the table. Rather than take it, Fleur raised her own hoof to her eyes, dabbing at fake tears.

“I’m at a loss for what to do. He handled so many things.” He really didn’t. It was Fleur who booked all the tables at high-end restaurants and scheduled the appointments and everything else. In truth, Fleur was rather excited at the prospect of working alone for once. She would be busy, but she rather liked it. And she was accustomed to it. Though she was considering scaling back. Aside from the terrible revelation about her husband late last night, she seriously enjoyed her day of reading, fantasizing, and drinking.

“Well, should you ever need help darling, you know how to find me.” Hoity Toity slid into the conversation once more like the snake he was, laying a hoof on her shoulder. She almost punched him, but a fake sob shook his touch off of her coat.

“Th-thank you, Hoity.” She whimpered, shooting him a saccharine smile. “You’re so sweet.”

“What’s happening over here?” Another voice joined the fray, and this time Fleur was only moderately familiar with it. Somepony new, some banker from Baltimare, joined the table, picking his own card up. Fleur only remembered him because of his obnoxious necklace. He had a large golden bit hanging from a chain like a pendant. From what Fleur remembered of the last encounter, he was a greedy bastard whose sole interest was making money.

“Fancy Pants and Fleur are divorcing.” Hoity filled him in before Fleur could open her mouth. As she was met with a questioning look, she just nodded at the newcomer. “It appears as if the ol’ boy was cheating on Miss De Lis here.”

“You don’t say.” The banker grimaced. There was only one spot left, and it would stay empty that evening. Unless her husband dared to show his slimy face. She scooted a little closer to the empty chair, if only to inch away from Hoity Toity. Honestly, some ponies could just be downright sickening. Fleur struggled to keep her lunch down. How she was ever going to make it through dinner was a complete mystery to her.

Thankfully enough, everypony else at the table settled into conversation with one another. She all but zoned them out as she stared blankly ahead, not listening, not even caring. Her mind was ablaze with thoughts of her own.

Why would he cheat on me? What was I doing wrong? Was it the way I acted or dressed? Am I boring or unassuming? Maybe he didn’t like the way I performed in bed. I should have been more assertive. But he was so incorrigible. And selfish. I could hardly stand to be around him, let alone make love to him. I did the job a million times better than he ever could have. Honestly, I’m better off without him. But still… Was there something wrong with me? Or was it just the way he was?

“Fleur? You look stressed. Can I get you some water?” Hoity’s greasy tone shook her from her bitter reverie. She looked at him blankly.

“I’m sorry?”

“I had asked you if you had plans for carrying on any of the charities you two used to run, but you were ignoring me. Rather rude, I should say.”

“I’m sorry.” Fleur muttered, waving a hoof dismissively. “I was just caught up in thought is all. I didn’t mean to ignore you. Well, as it stands-“

“Honestly, my dear, you do look out-of-sorts.” The banker cut her off, leaning in. “I think you ought to see a doctor or something. You might be in shock.”

“Shock? I don’t think that’s-“

“You do look out of it.” Barter cut her off again. “I think you should at least lay off the wine.”

“I’m not drinking any wi-“

“Perhaps you should go home for the evening?” Hoity continued. Fleur sunk into her chair a little bit. The three colts were bombarding her. She couldn’t get a word in edgewise.

“I’m fin-“

“I know a good doctor, but a moment’s notice away. I can have him here within the hour.”

“That won’t be-“

“Is it hot in here? Maybe she’s flustered.”

“Honestly, it looks like Fancy’s leaving caught her more by surprise than she’d like to admit.”

“She should have seen it coming, to be honest. I mean, we all knew the ol’ boy couldn’t keep it in his pants.”

“Ha! Yeah. You could hardly walk a mare past him without him getting’ in a tiff.”

“What are you-“

“First it was that singer from the club.”

“She was fine, though. I’d have done her myself if he hadn’t beat me to it.”

“Who was next? Was it Candy?”

“The waitress? I think he got her in back, right after that charity dinner.”

“Don’t forget about Melody.”

“Now there’s a fine piece of tail. I honestly can’t blame him for-“ Their mindless chatter died away into a dull drone, leaving Fleur with a building sense of panic in her chest. She felt her heart begin to thunder against her chest. The three of them went on and on about Fancy’s exploits, and here she was sitting just opposite them. Just as she felt her anger build to a breaking point, she stood up, sending her chair clattering away.

“If you’ll excuse me.” Fleur nearly spat the words at them. She could hear the three colts laughing as she all but ran away from the banquet hall. Guards looked her way as she dashed past, but none of them stopped her. She thought she saw Gem lift a hoof and say something, but her own heart hammering in her ears drowned her friend’s words out. Before she knew it, she was outside, somewhere among the gardens and the hedges of Canterlot’s expansive grounds.

Why had she been so blind? It wasn’t just one mare, Fancy had been seeing multiple! How many had it been? Five? Ten? Twenty? Six years was a long time to go chasing other mares. She wondered how many fake smiles had been given to her by mares on the receiving end of her husband’s treacherous stallionhood. As she thought back, several faces came to mind. She felt her own face heat with anger and rage, but the cool night air was doing wonders to assuage her temper. As she slowed to a calm walk, Fleur looked around. She had left the main path and was now in the middle of what looked like the castle’s hedge maze. It was a small thing, mostly for decoration, but finding oneself there was confusing and disorienting. She sighed at her own stupidity and started to make her way out of the maze.

One turn turned into four, then five, then ten. Fleur became increasingly more impatient as she fought to find an exit to the maze, only to be greeted with another intersection. Another fork, another perplexing dead end. What’s more, she felt eyes on her, watching her every move. She felt the hackles on the back of her neck raise, and she glanced furtively over her shoulder more than she ought to have. It started as nothing, but soon, she began to catch glimpses of something dark, just out of the corner of her eye. Something shadowy and difficult to pinpoint. Whatever it was, it didn’t want to be seen. Fleur began to pursue the tendrils of shadow. As she turned corner after corner, she would see more and more of it. It appeared to be a cloak of sorts, or perhaps some kind of fabric. Whatever it was, though, it was unlike anything she had seen before. In fact, it was almost ephemeral in nature. She picked up speed, ignoring the way the clasps on her dress dug into her coat.

The pursuit turned frenzied. But she seemed to be catching it, whatever it was. She knew then what she was chasing. It was the same figure from her dream last night. What were they doing in the Canterlot gardens? And why were they leading her through the maze, and not to the exit? Fleur was not happy or gleeful, as she had been with her last encounter with the shadowy figure. Now, she felt only dread and apprehension at following them so adamantly, but as they continued, she began to catch sight of the shadowy figure. She could see their entire body every time she rounded a corner, but as she picked up to a run, it would dash away.

“Wait!” Fleur cried, panting with exertion now. “Please! Wait!” She skidded around a corner, and saw the figure standing at the end of the next passage. “Hey!” She called out, sprinting forward. “Can you help me? I’m lost! Hey!” The figure dashed off once more, and as Fleur reached the turn, she saw them just reaching the end. The figure wheeled about, looking at her, its face shrouded with a large hood. “Wait!” Fleur cried, and this time, she made it halfway down the passage before they took off. Fleur’s face was set with a determined grimace as she poured on the heat, sprinting full-tilt towards the end of the passage.

She gasped when she turned the next corner, and her shadowy quarry loomed before her.

“Wake up.”

Fleur screamed.