The sleeping quarters were surprisingly dingy for the castle’s supposedly sanitary staff.

William blinked blearily around at the little room, letting his eyes adjust as he awoke. His eyes slowly budged closed again, and the last remnants of the dream slipped away from him like sand through his fingers. He had been having such a strange dream; a frightful one to be certain, one where he was being chased through a heavily wooded misty field, pursued by something that he could neither look at as he ran or even so much as remember if he did. At some point the nightmare faded into another dream, and the cold feeling leaked away as he gradually drifted to warmer and more comfortable dreams.

The early morning sunlight seeped in through the conservatively small rectangular window set into the rocky walls, more reminiscent of a well-equipped dungeon cell than a bedding room. No matter how William tried to ignore it, the light seemed to cut right through the air and poke at his sleepy eyes, preventing him from resting. Any moment now would come the alert from the other maids, preparing for the day ahead.

He yawned again, stifling the noise with his palm as he stretched.

Immediately before Eris snorted directly beside him in her sleep.

“Agh!” he screamed, rolling immediately out of the bed and onto the cold stone floor, stunned.

“What, is there a fire?” the draconequus jerked up, eyes wide. “It wasn’t me this time, I swear!”

“Eris!” William bellowed, forcing himself to sit and propping himself up crankily with his hands. “What do you think you’re doing?!”

“Well, I was sleeping, until somebody screwed that up!” she frowned, pulling the light green sheets up to her chest.

“I’m not talking about that,” William glowered angrily at her, shakily standing and dusting off his sky blue pajamas even though it frustratingly added no significant difference to his height no matter how straightly he stood. “I meant, why are you in my bed?”

“Oh,” Eris blinked. “Well, ‘cause you were warm. Duh.”

“What do you mean, because I was warm?” his voice rose even further, both in pitch and volume.

“Exactly what I said, numb nuts,” she grinned, stretching in relaxation with one mismatched arm behind her head.

“No!” he demanded, stamping his bare foot against the floor. “Eris, I – no! Just… no!”

“Dude. Chill out,” Eris pulled herself from the bed lazily on the opposite side, rolling her shoulders. “It was that, my bed or the floor. What are you so uptight for?”

“Eris!” William balked, throwing his hands out angrily at his sides at her apparent failure to understand. “It’s – why can’t – I don't feel those – learn personal space!”

“What, you’re telling me you don’t like me now?” Eris leaned over the bed, grinning at him as her tail twitched back and forth behind her head. “That’s funny. You sure were awfully comfy trying to hug up on me in your sleep.”

“Personal – space – dang it - Eris!”

The draconequus giggled, squeezing the air and making lewd kissing and smacking noises with her lips. At least, until William threw a pillow at her, at which point she cackled even harder when it slapped her across the nose.

“Oh, you like it rough, huh?” Eris tittered, clicking her talons. She promptly scowled when nothing occurred, and she instead opted to grab one of the stuffed pillows and twirled it in one paw. “Alrighty then, tiny, let’s get rough! Whee!”

“No, wait…!” William’s eyes widened, and he suddenly found it much more difficult to speak with his mouth full of pillow.

“Boom, bee-yatch!” Eris crowed, laughing as she chased the boy. He made a annoyed scramble for the bed to grab a pillow to defend himself, rabidly attempting to fight back his own grin. She twittered madly, grabbing him around the middle and tackling him to the bed before tickling him wildly.

“What’s the matter, tiny?” she purred, straddling William atop the bed and grinning down at him as her tail twitched in a feline manner back and forth. “Not even going to put up a fight?”

“Eris, you are much heavier than I would have originally anticipated,” William stated bluntly, squirming uncomfortably.

“Are you saying I’m fat?!” she gasped in faux horror.

“Er… of-of course not,” he frowned. “I am merely implying that your body mass index is noticeably varying from my own, and that you possess a distinct size and weight advantage. Ergo, I determine that the ‘fight’ in question was unquestionably rigged from the beginning.”

“So… fat.”

Both of them froze as the creak of the sleeping quarter’s door sounded behind them, and Eris’s tail even stopped mid-twitch as she blinked at the gaping maid.

“… Oh, god,” William cringed in mortification. “I swear, it’s not what it looks like.”

“It totally is,” Eris grinned maliciously, winking at the blushing light tan and mauve colored mare. “It is exactly what it looks like.”

“I-I-I, um,” the maid cleared her throat awkwardly, stepping lightly from hoof to hoof. “It’s time for – well, I mean – actually, I could just come back later,” she laughed gawkily, raising one hoof and slightly averting her gaze.

She didn’t wait for an answer before quickly slamming the door shut behind her.

“… Goddammit, Eris.”

“Willy, have I ever told you that you’re really cute when you’re flust- AHAHA, NOT THE RIBS!”

Scootaloo danced impatiently back and forth on the doorstep to Rainbow Dash’s ground level home, eagerly awaiting an answer.

The sun was up and shining, the weather was pleasant and a cool breeze ruffled her mane, and the late morning air was fresh and light as the chirrup of the birds in the air. It only made it seem all the stranger that Rainbow Dash wasn’t out and about as she expected her to be; after all, her idol was never the kind of mare that lazed about.

Scootaloo momentarily wondered if she should try knocking on the painted wooden door again, and had even lifted her hoof to it when it finally pried open.

“H-hey! Hi, uh… hey there!” Pinkie Pie stuck out only her head, revealing her rosy cheeked beam at the filly. Her normally springy mane was even messier than usual, and she seemed relatively breathless.

“Hi, Pinkie Pie!” Scootaloo smiled at her. “Is Rainbow Dash here?”

“O-oh,” Pinkie blinked, still trying to catch her breath and desperately tried to flatten her mane a little. “Um, well, she-she’s a little tied up at the moment.”

“Ah. Okay,” the pegasus nodded understandingly. “How long do you think it’ll take her to come?”

Scootaloo stared at the frizzy maned mare for a moment, as Pinkie Pie appeared to have suddenly broken into a barely covered sneezing fit that sounded suspiciously like laughter.

Pinkie stopped suddenly, forcing a professionally blank look.

“Do you mind waiting for a little bit?” Pinkie asked.

“Oh, ‘course not!” Scootaloo perked up. She started to edge toward the door, but Pinkie closed it a little tighter so that just a sliver of her face was showing.

“Er, actually,” Pinkie grinned sheepishly. “I meant waiting out here.”

“It’s fine,” she agreed with a hint of disappointment. “I don’t mind.”

Scootaloo didn’t quite catch what the overexcited mare said as she closed the door, but from what she could tell it sounded almost as if Pinkie had mumbled something incoherent about whipped topping.

She waited outside in the warm sun for what felt like hours, the heat collecting on her head and making her long for the shade of the trees not too far away. However, Scootaloo remained adamant and stood firmly on the doorstep. More time passed and still nopony let her in, and she even went so far as to lean a bit against the door to listen in curiosity.

No sooner had she pressed her raised ear against the door than the door at last swung inward, displaying a mildly cross Rainbow Dash with her mane sticking up in multiple places.

“Hi, Rainbow Dash!” Scootaloo greeted her cheerfully, oblivious to the older mare’s deadpan.

“Hey, kid,” the pegasus blinked. “All right. Let me guess. It’s something really important that absolutely cannot wait for anything at all or you’ll explode.”

Scootaloo nodded furiously, grateful that somepony at last understood. It helped that Rainbow Dash was used to the routine.

“Well…” she stopped shortly afterwards. “Actually, Rainbow Dash, it really is important. Way more important than normal stuff, really.”

“What?” Dash asked in barely concealed mock surprise. “Even more important than flight techniques?”

Scootaloo, perhaps fortunately, did not quite catch the tone in her voice and instead nodded again.

“Uh… can-can I come in?” she asked hopefully, shuffling her orange wings against her sides awkwardly and rubbing one of her forelegs delicately. “It’s, uh… heh heh, it’s not really the kind of stuff you want to talk about right outside, you know?”

Dash chewed her lip for a moment, leaning backwards and almost closing the door again.

“I guess it’s sa- uh, yeah,” Rainbow Dash allowed her inside her abode at last. “Come on, make yourself at home already.”

Scootaloo started down the entry hall, only to be stopped firmly by the mare.

“Actually, forget that last part, just go straight to the kitchen,” Dash cleared her throat extraordinarily loudly, as if signaling for somepony else.

“Oh, sure!” Scootaloo was all too glad to comply, and Rainbow Dash released a silent sigh of relief.

She seated herself comfortably at the kitchen table as the weary pegasus set about unsteadily making coffee, the agreeable scent of which filling the air eventually drew in a surprisingly dour Pinkie Pie. Pinkie snapped a small red box as she entered the kitchen, sticking it directly into one of the cabinets.

“What’s up with the sourpuss face?” Dash grinned at Pinkie as she pushed her sweets away.

“Chocolate frosting just doesn’t taste the same without anything to slather it on,” Pinkie Pie frowned, snagging one of the coffee mugs.

“What about cake?” Scootaloo offered helpfully, and Rainbow Dash had to turn to hide her snickering.

“I don’t think so,” Pinkie stated flatly.

“How come?”

Pinkie let out a puff through her nostrils, offering Scootaloo a cup of steaming coffee as well.

“Let’s just say that I got choc–blocked, bro, and leave it at that,” she harrumphed, taking her hot drink and leaving with the same surly expression. Pinkie made sure to pat Dash once on the shoulder before she did so, sliding away softly.

“… Did I come at a bad time?” Scootaloo fidgeted nervously, and Dash shook her head before seating herself opposite of her.

“Nah, it’s fine, kiddo,” she shrugged. “Pinks thinks I – actually, that’s not important. What’s up?”

Rainbow Dash took a quiet sip of her scalding hot sugarless coffee, the bitterness biting at her. It was soon interrupted by a nagging suspicion from the filly’s uneasy fiddling with her cup, which she slid back and forth on the table. She opened her mouth to speak twice, but nothing came out.

“Any-any mail for me?” she asked in a conversational tone, to which Rainbow Dash wordlessly shook her head. Scootaloo continuously touched her forelegs tenderly, sliding one hoof up and down it.

“I get the feeling you’re beating your bush.”

“What?”

“Around!” Rainbow Dash coughed loudly into her hoof, looking away swiftly. “Uh, beating around the bush. Go on.”

“Well, it’s… it’s actually kind of personal,” Scootaloo spat out finally, clearly troubled. “And I couldn’t really think of anypony else to come to about it.”

“Look, Scoots,” Rainbow Dash leveled a look at her. “I’ve known you for a while. Even Will thinks you’re all right. If you’ve got something to ask me, go on ahead. We cool?”

Scootaloo started to speak again, but bit her lip for a long moment before nodding with slowly growing enthusiasm.

“Yeah. Yeah, we’re cool,” she tried to say nonchalantly, even leaning back a bit in her chair for emphasis.

“Cool. So, what’s up?” Dash took another swig of her coffee, the chirping of birds outside the window pleasantly dancing across her ears.

“Okay. Okay, so,” the filly ferociously cleared her throat again, squeaking her chair a little closer to the table and sitting up straighter. She rubbed her fetlocks sorely again, barely touching her forelegs. “SO. Uh, so, Rainbow Dash. Say – say I – I mean, say that somepony you know really, really liked somepony else.”

It clicked almost automatically, and Rainbow Dash allowed herself a little wry grin. However, strangely, it also made something else stir in her chest, which she pushed back to focus on the conversation.

“Uh huh,” Dash nodded to show that she was still listening. “Go on.”

“R-right,” Scootaloo looked around, holding her mug between her hooves to occupy herself. “Right, so. So, if you really, really liked somepony else, what would you do?”

“Easy,” Rainbow Dash replied. “Tell them how I feel, and if they’re honest, they’ll do the same.”

“Okay,” she went on, a little more courageous by now. “So, let’s say that you really liked somepony else. Except there’s this problem, and you started having these weird feelings for somepony different, even though you still had feelings for-for somepony.”

Dash resisted the impulse to point out that the filly was being conspicuously vague in terms of definitions, but bit her tongue. Besides, she had a pretty good idea of what she meant.

“And now you’re conflicted?” Rainbow Dash raised an eyebrow.

“Pffft, whaaaat?” Scootaloo laughed anxiously. “No, no! Not-not me, I mean, er… I meant somepony else. Theoretical pony. Or hypothetical pony. It’s one of those,” she rambled.

“Uh huh,” she nodded again, hiding her smirk as she took another large quaff, letting the warmth seep into her chest. “So, now this theoretical hypothetical young mare is conflicted.”

“Right,” the filly agreed, carefully touching the bottom of her own hooves. “Except, she might not really know how to handle some things, ‘cause it might not all be, you know… traditional stuff.”

Dash’s eyes flicked momentarily toward the other room where Pinkie Pie lurked just out of sight, grumbling loudly about the quality of pastries and how if she kept it up she was going to turn into her grandmother.

Her smile grew, but in a gentle fashion.

“Heh. Untraditional is something I’m pretty familiar with, actually,” Rainbow Dash responded softly. Scootaloo seemed a little more relieved at her words, prompting her to continue.

“Haa, yeah. I… guess not everypony is into the same kind of thing, you know?”

“You can say that again.”

“That again,” Scootaloo said promptly.

They shared a couple of quiet chuckles, and Scootaloo at last gained a substantial feeling of confidence. This had been what she needed. She didn't know how she had been so apprehensive about it before.

“So… what do you think I – I mean, somepony should do in that kind of situation?” Scootaloo pried.

“Well,” Rainbow Dash started thoughtfully, swilling her half empty mug. “The best thing you can do is be as honest as you can, and that’s to yourself as well. But it’s just as important to be loyal to the special somepony that you have feelings for, and let them know how you really feel. Loyalty is way more important in a relationship than you know.”

“Loyalty? How so?”

“Well, because without loyalty, there’s no trust. And if there’s no trust in a relationship… what kind of relationship is it, then?”

Scootaloo rubbed her foreleg in deep contemplation for a long few minutes, before eventually bowing her head slowly.

“… Yeah,” she nodded a tad more quickly. “Yeah, okay. That solves some of it, I think.”

“Just some?” Dash chortled, leaning back in her chair in ease before taking another drink.

“Ha ha, yeah. I guess I can’t say I can ever get all the answers about unwanted feelings,” Scootaloo half laughed, rubbing her forelegs again.

Rainbow Dash almost brushed it off to take another drink of her rapidly cooling coffee, but something made her stop halfway. She stared at the filly for a long, hard minute, watching intensely before it finally sank in what it was about her that was bothering her so much.

Scootaloo kept doing something that she herself used to do.

“Got-got something on you, just there…?” Rainbow Dash tried to ask discreetly, her heart pounding in her ears. The marks. Those little barely hidden marks.

“Huh? Oh, yeah,” Scootaloo chuckled apprehensively. “Riding crops kinda hurt.”

Scootaloo had hardly mentioned it in passing, and really never thought she would use it in a sentence at all; and yet, the moment she spoke, an unsettlingly surreal change appeared to overcome Rainbow Dash. The pegasus’s ears flattened back against her head almost immediately, the color draining from her face as her eyes narrowed to pinpricks, focusing far too hard on something in the distance.

“What did you just say?” Dash breathed, quivering as her voice started cracking.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Scootaloo said quickly. “I just –”

“Is that why you didn’t say anything before?” Rainbow Dash asked frantically, her voice rising steadily. “Is that it? He wouldn’t – were you afraid or something of – was it because he was still here?!”

The mare’s increasingly wild look and tone began to scare Scootaloo, and she shied away a couple of inches.

“No!” she answered shakily. “I mean, I wouldn’t – I can’t… you said loyal…!”

“How come you didn’t tell anypony that they hurt you?” Dash was shouting by this point, making Scootaloo cower in wide eyed confusion and fear. “I said, why! Where did they touch you?”

Rainbow Dash grabbed her roughly by the shoulders, shaking her violently as her face came far too close. Her eyes rolled wildly, only accentuated by her panicked shouts.

“Answer me! You answer me right now, Scootaloo! Tell me! Tell me right fucking NOW, WHERE DID THEY TOUCH YOU?!”

“Dashie!”

Rainbow Dash felt her hooves being roughly jerked away from the crying filly, her head forcibly turned away. Pinkie Pie’s aghast face full of concern filled her vision, but Dash’s fear did not subside.

“Pinkie!” Dash all but screamed. “Pinkie Pie, you don’t –”

“Stop it!” Pinkie held her face still, forcing her to hold her gaze. “You get a hold of yourself, right now Rainbow Dash!”

“Pinkie Pie,” Rainbow Dash struggled to fight her off. “You don’t understand…!”

The pink mare looked like she was ready to scream as well, although for completely different reasons. Instead, Pinkie powerfully took a deep, steady breath and ever so slowly let go of the pegasus.

“Just calm down, Dashie. Look. Just look at what you did.”

Rainbow Dash started to shoot back a hurried snarky reply, but instead it finally crashed in on her that Scootaloo was sitting against the wall, sniveling miserably and hiding her stream of tears behind her hooves. A wave of guilt intermingled with other disagreeing emotions built in her chest, and Dash recoiled at herself.

“… Hey,” Pinkie knelt sympathetically beside the quietly crying filly. “Hey, um… Scoots.”

Scootaloo sniffed dejectedly in response.

“Hey, it’s gonna be fine,” Pinkie Pie tried to sound upbeat. “Dashie just overreacted a little, is all – aww, jeez, please stop crying. I hate seeing somepony cry,” her lip quivered.

“L-look, Scootaloo,” Dash cleared her throat ultimately, her cheeks burning as she knelt on the other side of the filly. “I-I’m sorry, I just – I kind of lost my cool there for-for a second. It-it’s just, you know…” she flailed for a proper excuse as to why she had shaken her so violently, her outburst of anger. Nothing eloquent seemed to come to mind, no matter how desperately she willed it.

“I’m sorry,” Scootaloo whimpered. “I-I didn’t mean to…”

“Oh, no, no no no,” Pinkie patted her shoulder soothingly. “Hey, it’s okay. Come on, it’s fine, everything is going to be A – okay. You don’t have anything to be sorry for, nothing at all.”

“Right,” Rainbow Dash’s lowered her head grimly. “It isn’t your fault, no matter what anypony tells you. When did he first start?”

“W-what?”

Scootaloo looked up momentarily, desperately wiping her face on the crook of her elbow so as not to further embarrass herself by crying in front of any others any more than she already had. She didn’t seem to be succeeding.

“Abusing you,” Dash pressed on, a dark look in her eyes. “How long ago was it that he started using you?”

“He?” she blinked, struggling not to hide behind her own hooves again as the pair stared hard at her. “I-I don’t – I mean, I-I-I didn’t –”

“You don’t have to stick up for his actions or cover for him,” Rainbow Dash said evenly, although she was shaking to some extent. Her voice was almost robotic, and her glare was empty. “You don’t even have to go into details, if you don’t want to. You don’t have to blame yourself. Just tell me when he started mistreating you already!”

Scootaloo shook her head back and forth furiously, her mouth firmly clamped shut as the tears unwillingly sprang forth once more. Pinkie shared a look that was lost on Rainbow Dash, and sighed.

“… Hey,” Pinkie patted the unfortunate filly on the shoulder again. “Hey, it’s going to be okay, I Pinkie Promise. Why don’t you go on home, Scootaloo?” she asked, helping her up. “You go on home for now, me and Dashie have some things to say alone. Okay?”

Scootaloo silently nodded and swallowed hard, making straight for the door the moment she had the opportunity. She didn’t even look back.

Pinkie waited until the door had noisily latched and she was positive that the pegasus was far out of earshot before she finally turned back to Rainbow Dash, who had already sunk against the wall, staring ahead. Her eyes were wide and she was shaking visibly, and she habitually rubbed one of her wingtips while muttering under her breath.

“Dash. Dashie,” Pinkie Pie gained her attention. “I heard all of that. You – you don’t really think she meant… meant who you think she meant, do you?”

“He wouldn’t,” Rainbow Dash quietly began rocking back and forth, tapping at something invisible just in front of her on the floor. “He wouldn’t, I know he wouldn’t. He’s a good colt…”

Pinkie started to wordlessly pull the curtains closed, her mind abuzz and her heart heavy when Dash started up and paced fervently around.

“But he might,” Rainbow Dash puffed, ears still flat against her head. “He just might, we all knew the danger – oh, Celestia, what if it’s my fault?”

“Dashie –”

“Just how long do you think it’s been going on…?” Dash whimpered, her voice cracking again. “It’s my fault, it’s all my fault…!”

Pinkie Pie whistled loudly, waving at the despairing pegasus.

“Hey!” she hugged her tightly, forcing a smile. “Come on, now; what were you just saying about blaming yourself for things?”

“I have to go to Canterlot,” Rainbow Dash breathed, running a hoof through her mane. “I –”

“Oh, no!” Pinkie frowned determinedly. “NO! Dashie – Rainbow Dash, we discussed this, you are not going to Canterlot for any reason. Is that understood?”

“Pinkie,” she leveled a distressed, pleading look at her before slowly prying away. “I need to do this…!”

“No, Rainbow Dash,” Pinkie Pie pulled her back. “No, you don’t. It’s not going to come to the worst, we are going to stick through this together and make this work, okay? It won’t take that much longer to just write a letter than it would to go there yourself – and that’s even if she really did mean William, and besides, sending a letter would still only be concerning William instead of look at me Rainbow Dash!”

Dash cringed at the sound of Pinkie Pie finally snapping, and they both simply stood in each other’s embrace and stared at each other for a long while in peaceful silence that was only disturbed by the birds.

“… Celestia, I’ll bet we both look a mess,” Pinkie eventually tittered weakly.

“Yeah, kind of,” Dash answered quietly, letting the mare hug her.

“Pinkie Promise me that you won’t go. Okay?” Pinkie Pie looked her hard in the eyes.

“I can’t –”

“Dashie,” she said. “I need to trust you for this. I need you to promise me that you won’t go to Canterlot to look for him. Pinkie Promise me. Please, Dashie.”

“… Okay. Okay. I promise. I Pinkie Promise.”

Pinkie Pie’s breath of relief was music to Rainbow Dash’s ears. It didn’t assuage the feeling of guilt at all, unfortunately. Although whether this was because Dash wasn’t sure if she would be made a liar or not, or because she couldn’t bear the thought of the inevitable was still quite questionable, even to herself.

“So?” Diamond Tiara asked, hopping up excitedly from her opulent bed and spanning the distance between them with the speed of a locomotive. “How’d it go for y- Scoots, have you been crying?”

Scootaloo quietly coughed into her hoof, looking away as she latched Diamond Tiara’s heavy bedroom door behind her. She was certain that her eyes were probably still red, even though she had spent extra time trying to wash the evidence away with cold water. Instead, Scootaloo focused intently on the shade of carpeting in the filly’s lavishly decorated bedroom, which held her attention far longer than any carpeting had any right to.

“Later,” Scootaloo answered throatily. “What did your dad say?”

Diamond Tiara flipped her mane casually as she made for her comfortable seat again, but her stern gaze remained firm on the pegasus.

“He’s an old fashioned stallion. He thinks we’re just friends, still,” she explained, patting her bed and offering the weary pegasus a place beside her. “But daddy seems to think that practicality is more important than romance. I should have guessed,” Tiara snorted. “What about you? You…”

Diamond Tiara slowly lifted her hoof, gently brushing the underside of Scootaloo’s chin and softly forcing her to look at her.

“… You look terrible,” she mused almost inaudibly, to which Scootaloo grunted.

“Well,” Scootaloo shifted uncomfortably as Tiara’s hoof slid over her cheek, delicately touching the still red flush tinging her cheek. “Um… well, Rainbow Dash thinks that I’m being abused.”

Diamond Tiara snorted again, withdrawing her touch.

“I can’t say I’m all that surprised. Hooves?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Scootaloo rubbed the bit of dangling fur of her fetlock routinely.

“I said it was too soon, did I not?” she raised an eyebrow slightly, at which the pegasus shrugged. “That’s what you get for not listening to me when I said to leave the hooves alone this time.”

“I don’t care, I don’t like it on the flank. It hurts way more!”

Diamond Tiara grinned, and Scootaloo’s previous smile even started shining through for a moment.

“And what did she say afterwards?” she inquired with interest.

“Uh…”

Diamond Tiara stared at her, brushing a lock of mane from her friend’s face as her ghost of a smile slowly faded.

“... Scoots, do please tell me that you did not leave anypony under the impression that you’re being unwillingly abused,” she half snickered.

“I-I just couldn’t tell her,” Scootaloo hung her head in shame. “I-I just, I just couldn’t.”

“Another matter of embarrassment?” Diamond Tiara pried.

Scootaloo shook her head fiercely, dropping onto her back with a sigh. The soft cushion of the mattress almost sucked her in, and the satin canopy above her seemed to welcome her just as comfortingly as Diamond Tiara did as she joined her.

“No, not that,” Scootaloo exhaled again slowly. “Though it sure was embarrassing enough. I mean, I don’t even know. Rainbow Dash kind of… I mean, she kind of snapped. I’ve never seen her like that before,” she trembled. “It-it got to me, is all. Shot my nerves all up, you know?”

“Fantastic,” Diamond Tiara groaned, but snuggled against her nonetheless. “Because that’s exactly what we needed, was further complications.”

“Sorry,” Scootaloo flinched, genuinely still feeling awful over the entire affair. She was beginning to wish that they had never began conspiring together that day at all – but that meant she would have spent all day alone, as Apple Bloom was busy in the orchards and Sweetie Belle had to help her own sister.

“Hmm. Sorry, indeed.”

“Guess that means you’re gonna ‘punish’ me again, huh?” Scootaloo asked, her wings already bristling underneath her.

To her surprise, Diamond Tiara merely shook her head before moving in a little closer.

“Let’s... just stay like this for a while,” Tiara whispered, snuggling with her in the sea of blankets. "Right here, just like this."

“I can live with that,” Scootaloo grinned.

“I would hope so. If not, you’d surely die.”

“Excuse me, what?” Trimming frowned, eyes narrowing dangerously.

“Er… the-the post office, Missus Trimming,” William ruffled the envelopes in his hands nervously. “I-I was wondering about the post office. I have never personally been to Canterlot except during the… the fireworks incident,” he admitted. “I was curious about where I would go to send these.”

The mare shooed off the young maid that she had been scolding, and turned to properly face the boy. The maid trotted quickly out of sight, the clopping of her hooves diminishing the further away she trotted down the enormous hall.

“If I recall correctly, which I usually do,” Trimming’s eyes narrowed even further as she eyed the papers in his hands. “You and your sibling are to be prevented from leaving the grounds, as per your penalty. There’s a postal office on Canterlot’s main street, but you won’t be visiting it.”

William bowed his head quietly, the emptiness of the hall pricking painfully at his ears.

“Give them to me.”

William blinked, shifting uncertainly before her stern gaze.

“Er… sorry?”

“Your letters,” Trimming stated flatly. “Give them to me. I will ensure that they get to their destination,” she continued. “And don’t even think that I’m paying for your postage, human.”

“Oh. Um, thank you, Missus Trimming,” a candid smile tugged at his lips, and he gladly passed her the white envelopes, which she tucked into a pocket on the side of her own black and white uniform. “It means a lot to –”

“Yes yes yes,” she waved him off. “I’m certain that it does. I’m beginning to find it suspicious that you’ve finished your duties already.”

William’s face immediately lost all expression, and he tugged fretfully at the hem of his skirt for a moment.

“… You haven’t stepped hoof in the guard’s barracks today, have you?” Missus Trimming’s yellow eyes narrowed once more, a dangerous gleam in them.

“Um. Oh. Well, M-Missus Trimming, I-I needed to write, and, um…”

“Slacking off on the job again!” she scowled, stepping toward him menacingly. William refrained from backing up, although his feet nearly moved seemingly of their own volition. “I should not have to stand over you just to ensure you actually do your job!”

“I – sorry,” he mumbled, interlocking his fingers behind his back.

“Clearly not!” Trimming seethed. William started to slip away toward his duties, but was snagged on the collar by the incensed mare.

“Going-” he started, but was cut off as he was roughly pulled in the opposite direction.

“Oh, no you don’t!” she demanded. “Repeat offenders will not be tolerated. Office! NOW!”

William’s heart sank into his stomach as he was marched back to the head maid’s office, and his dread weighed heavily on his chest. He picked up his feet and carried on wistfully, wishing that he at least had pockets on his own ridiculously frilly uniform to stick his hands into.

They passed a couple of lightly armored pegasi chatting animatedly, but William kept his head down. It seemed to take hours of mute walking to finally reach Trimming’s office, the squeak of linoleum the only sound in the morning air. Trimming wordlessly yanked out a ring of keys, which she expertly rifled through with a single hoof before jamming one into the keyhole and flinging the door open wide, shoving the boy directly inward.

“Once more,” Trimming flattened her grey flecked yellow mane in agitation, firmly locking the door behind herself. “I find myself in the position of adversary to laziness. Well?” she turned sharply to William, who twiddled timidly with his fingers. “What do you have to say for yourself this time, human?”

“… My name is William,” he said in a hushed tone.

“And?” she barked, making him flinch again. “I am doing my utmost to stay in a good mood. Do you want to tell me why you spent your working time writing silly little letters instead of your job?”

She slammed the envelopes onto her desk, and for a second William feared that she would rip them. Instead, Trimming only slid them angrily to the corner beneath an unlit lamp.

“I-I’m sorry, Missus Trimming,” he cleared his throat, cheeks burning. “It-it’s just that, well, er. You see, um…”

“Get to the point,” Trimming towered over him ominously.

“I don’t like the guard’s barracks,” William cringed again.

“You don’t like it?” she balked at him incredulously. “Oh, well then. That changes matters completely, why ever didn’t I take that into account before who do you think you are?!”

William was clearly shaken, but forced himself to look up at the infuriated mare. He had to swallow hard before speaking, though.

“Um, well… I mean, the-the people in there give me funny looks.”

Mrs. Trimming looked as if she was going to shout at him again, but she eventually took a long, arduously deep breath and looked away. She pinched the bridge of her nose, slowly beginning to pace back and forth in front of him.

“I am thoroughly unsurprised,” Trimming huffed, blowing a lock of tarnished golden mane from her face. “Everypony gives you funny looks. Just look at you, it’s no wonder at all.”

William felt a pang in in chest at her words, although he didn’t recognize why.

“Not-not quite like that,” William clutched at his hands fretfully. “I-I mean, er… sometimes somepony will try to look up my s-skirt, and um… it’s-it’s very, very, uh…”

“Sit down,” Trimming sighed eventually, nodding to one of the spare chairs before her worn wooden desk. “Before the rest of the blood in your body rushes to your head and it blows off. I swear to Celestia, I’ve never seen anypony blush that damned red.”

William gratefully took the opportunity to free himself from the head maid’s steely gaze, and he gracelessly tumbled into the uncomfortable wooden chair. The metal filing cabinets lining the walls were oddly reminiscent of Saint Claire’s, and a tingle of nostalgia poked at the back of his mind. He clamped his legs together restlessly, flattening the frills on the uniform uselessly.

“If you have problems with somepony, royal guard or no,” Trimming began eventually, ceasing her pacing and sitting across from him behind her small desk. “Then either mare up and take care of it or ignore it. I won’t be responsible for your fuckups if you or your ‘sister’” she said with air quotes, “happen to have problems during your stay. Understood?”

“Y-yes, ma’am.”

“This is not a vacation for you,” Trimming continued. “And I will not have you slacking off again. Also, if you really had such a problem with stallions looking up your skirt, why were you bending over in front of them in the first place unless you wanted them to?”

William started to speak, but bit his tongue.

“… And didn’t you have more clothing?” she pressed, furrowing her brows as she stared suddenly at his bare legs. “I could have sworn that was the case, I even saw you dragging it into your shared lodgings. Why didn’t you just wear more of those?” Trimming asked in a slightly accusatory tone.

“Eris stole all of my pants as a joke,” he admitted at last, thoroughly humiliated. “She seems to think that it was hilarious, and she won’t tell me where she hid them.”

“And you didn’t tell anypony?” Trimming cocked an eyebrow in disbelief, eyeing him up and down a little more thoroughly, her stare lingering on his lower quarters for an uncomfortably long time. She sidled out from behind her desk, standing resolutely before him as he unconsciously leaned further back in the chair. “I find that a little… hard to believe.”

“O-oh, um, well,” William began stuttering again, heat rising in his face as she grew close enough to barricade him in completely. He clasped his hands tightly in his lap, one of her hooves resting loosely on the wooden arm of the chair. “It’s-it’s, well, er… shirts, but-but no pants, Eris is – um, it’s really complicated.”

“Is that so,” Trimming hummed, her other hoof firmly beginning to slide up his bare leg, stopping tantalizingly half way. William hadn’t even noticed that he had stopped breathing altogether, although his compactly clenched together hands were a little unsteady. “… You’re trembling. Oh, you're shaking alright, I can see you try to hide it. Why? Is it fear?” she whispered in his ear, a sultry gleam in her stare.

William said nothing.

“… Or maybe anticipation?” she breathed, her grin widening. “Don’t tell me. Just let me guess.”

“You know what they say about assumptions,” William couldn’t keep himself from croaking dryly. Trimming rose a hoof suddenly, making him jerk; but she only tilted his head a bit to the side, and she looked him hard in the eyes.

“… Hmph. You remind me of Shears.”

William again fell silent, and Trimming at last pulled away from him a little. She quietly stepped toward the closed window blinds, turning them to stare out into the unclouded sky.

“Your… husband?” he fought the urge to rub his cheeks, and an odd look claimed the head maid’s features. A cross between longing, pain and… sadness.

“He used to be,” she answered softly, seating herself across from him once more, placing her hooves noiselessly on her desk and folding them one over the other. The sudden lack of bright sunshine into the little office made it seem a bit greyer than before, as if the color had been sucked out.

“… What happened?” William asked quietly.

“He died. It was a long time ago,” Trimming replied formally. “Started in his stomach. Paralyzed him, eventually. It was slow. I’ve been all alone ever since.”

“I’m sorry. I know how bad it feels to be all alone.”

Trimming looked at him with something unidentifiable in her eyes, and he averted his gaze.

He regarded his shoes as easier to look at, and that was where his eyes stayed. However, his mind churned, and the strange feeling in his chest rose again. William felt a sympathetic pain for the sorrowful mare, even though he really didn’t want to; perhaps it was just the way that she, too, refused to look at him, her mind too far away to really hear even if he spoke.

It was familiar.

“Missus Trimming?” William spoke up, her head jerkily swiveling back to him as she pulled herself from thought.

“Yes, right,” she started distractedly, waving him toward the door. “I’ll have a few words with Silver Spear. Get to the barracks, and be quick about it. Princess Luna is going to need somepony later, and another of the new mares… left, so you’ll be assuming her duties as well. See me again when you’re finished in the barracks.”

He began to say something else, but clamped his mouth shut and nodded feverishly before seeing himself out. As Mrs. Trimming’s heavy door loudly snapped behind him, William couldn’t help but release a breath of relief. He was almost sure that he was going to be punished, and was almost giddy that he wasn’t as he made his way toward the supply closet. It wasn’t until he remembered her last words that William realized that, just maybe, his punishment had only been delayed.

It also occurred to William that he had been skipping, and he angrily pulled down on the frills in retaliation. It must have been the skirt. William was not a ‘skipping’ person.