There was a small army of foals looking at the window. His window. Bucky smiled, knowing that they were seeing a foal friendly version of the window. He had enchanted it oh so carefully. He sat quietly behind them, and none of the foals seemed to know that he was there. Every foal gazing up at the window and listening to the lecture was a unicorn, and so was the teacher.

Class was in session.

Class became a lot more interesting when the teacher turned around and saw Bucky. She cleared her throat and fell silent, looking at the three legged unicorn off sitting by himself.

One by one, each foal turned around to have a look at whatever it was the teacher was looking at. There were many quiet gasps and a faint murmur could be heard in the crowd.

“Prince Buckminster,” a foal announced.

“Just Bucky,” the one eyed stallion replied with a snort.

“I believe his proper title is “War Chief Buckminster,” class. Hero of the Shetlands. Destroyer of the Crystal Lich,” the teacher corrected.

“Nope, just Bucky,” Bucky insisted.

“But that is not proper,” the teacher replied.

“I’m just a pony,” Bucky muttered. He looked at the faces of the foals. Some were clearly terrified by his appearance. Others were curious. Others were in awe. The teacher looked quite afraid and she trembled visibly. “And I am not a proper pony,” he stated.

“As the Lord of Winter, can you make it snow?” a foal asked.

“Yes,” Bucky replied.

“Is it true that you have Sombra’s memories?” another foal inquired.

“Some of them,” Bucky answered.

“Do you like tea or coffee?” a foal questioned.

“That’s a very political question among unicorns, there is no way I’m answering that,” Bucky chuckled, smiling, revealing his fangs, causing a few foals to cower at the sight.

“Is it true that you have five wives?” a small filly asked.

“Yes… and I love each and every one of them,” Bucky responded.

“Do you get nagged a lot?” a brave colt questioned.

“When I deserve it,” Bucky replied, unable to hold back his chuckle.

“Why aren’t you at home with your wives?” a filly asked.

“Mystery Mark, what have I told you about using contractions?” the teacher warned. “That is going to be two hundred and fifty sentences on the chalkboard later.”

“Why are you not at home with your wives?” the filly asked again, looking ashamed.

Feeling slightly annoyed, Bucky shot a scathing glance at the teacher. “Because I'm about to head off to Saddle Arabia on a top secret mission.” For a moment, Bucky felt a pang of shame, and then realised he had just used a contraction. His irritation increased and his dislike for the teacher grew just a tiny bit more. It always started so early, the enforced rigidity. He hated it.

“My father says you seized control of the government of Ponyville. Is this true?” a colt questioned, looking rather nervous as he asked.

“I seized control of the bureaucracy and dismantled them. The mayor is still free to do her job, and I dare say her job is a lot more pleasant without the bureaucrats breathing down her neck and second guessing her every move. She actually has time to meet with the ponies she serves and her schedule is now very open,” Bucky explained.

“How does an accountant kill a crystal lich?” a filly asked.

“How did you know I was an accountant?” Bucky inquired in return.

“We have a schoolbook about you,” the filly replied.

“Oh my, already… they wasted no time,” Bucky said.

“Come, it is nearly time to change classes, we must return,” the teacher instructed. She stood, stomped a hoof, and class fell into a line behind her, from the largest to the smallest. A few waved at Bucky.

“You and Princess Twilight Sparkle seem really nice,” a filly said in parting as the line began to move.

“Be good little foals,” Bucky called out. “And make sure to question authority,” he added.

Celestia’s office hadn’t changed much. The door was still shockingly easy to disenchant, the alarms were all primary school level spells, and Bucky concluded that Celestia wanted foals to break into her office. For some reason. He felt slightly confused.

Her desk was a bit more cluttered than he remembered. Pencils, pens, a kazoo, probably taken from a student, a phoenix feather, a couple of comic books, and a plate with cake crumbs were all to be found upon her desk.

He went to work, attempting to apologise the only way he knew how. Soon, the desk was on the ceiling once again, so was the chair, and everything else in the room. He sighed a smug sigh of satisfaction, and then had a brilliant idea. He turned the floor, the ceiling, and the walls into mirrored surfaces, and the effect was vertigo inducing. There were a billion reflections of himself stretching off in all directions.

“You… you should not be here.”

All of the hair on the back of Bucky’s neck stood up. “Twilight,” he muttered in surprise.

“Ugh, that is nausea inducing,” Twilight said as she looked around.

“I was uh, apologising,” Bucky explained. “Celestia and I had a misunderstanding of sorts.”

He backed out of the room, closed the door, and began to lock it, re-enchanting all of the alarms and protections upon the office entrance.

“So you’ve pranked her, turning her office upside down,” Twilight stated.

Nodding, Bucky said nothing. There was nothing that could be said.

“You are a disreputable maladjusted warlock,” Twilight groused. “How louche you have become. I suppose you will be pranking me next?”

“I’m also your cousin,” Bucky teased, not answering Twilight’s question.

“Only distantly,” Twilight retorted.

“Celestia needs to know that I still love her. There were some harsh words,” Bucky halfheartedly explained. “We should skedaddle. If the guard comes along, we’ll both be blamed. I’ll make certain of it.”

“You… monster!” Twilight cried as she took off at a trot.

Smiling, Bucky took off after her with his three legged hobble.

Sentinel was having trouble paying attention to Surprise, the Wonderbolt flight instructor. He felt sick to his stomach, nervous, and more than anything, he wanted to crawl back into bed and go to sleep. He felt guilty and ashamed. He missed his father terribly already.

And everywhere he went, he could smell her.

Her scent clung to his nostrils, filling with a flood of confusing thoughts and feelings. All he could think about was the dream and the horrible thing he had done. More than anything, he now wanted to protect her to make up for the awful thing he had done while dreaming.

He had no idea what it was that he was feeling, and he wasn’t sure who to talk to.

“Can you fly yet?”

Snapping to attention, Sentinel realised that Surprise was addressing him. “No ma’am, not very well ma’am.”

“When I get done with you, you’ll be flying. I’ve helped train your kind,” Surprise said kindly. “And I bet I know the problem too.”

“Problem?” Sentinel asked.

“You’re probably extending the fingers in your wings out from your central knuckle and locking them into place, and when that happens, your wing is too rigid and becomes too flat. You need to leave your fingers loose so you can cup some air under your wing,” Surprise explained, smiling broadly as she did so.

“I thought I was supposed to lock my fingers into place,” Sentinel said, mystified that the solar pegasus would know this.

“No silly,” Surprise giggled.

Looking at her, Sentinel realised he was seeing something different now. She was sleek. She was curvy. Her croup had the most spectacular arch to it. Her hocks were amazingly shapely. Her gaskins were bulging. Her stifles were smooth, supple, and seemed almost a perfect place to get a good grip with his hooves if he…

Ugh, what is wrong with me? Sentinel asked himself. He blinked and made himself stop staring at Surprise's shapely smooth silky sleek supple seductive silhouette.

“Are you with me?”

Sentinel snapped to attention again.

“I said your name three times, are you alright Sentinel?” Surprise asked.

“I didn’t sleep well last night,” Sentinel answered, being completely honest without saying what was really wrong. He yawned to drive home the point. This was almost dishonest, and he didn’t like it at all.

“It is tough to be a lunar pegasus and be awake during the day,” Surprise stated.

“He’s probably thinking about pouncing Diamond Tiara,” Loch Skimmer giggled.

“I am not!” Sentinel retorted.

“Wow, somepony is touchy. Sorry Sentinel,” Loch Skimmer said apologetically.

“It is too warm... I feel like I am overheating… I feel funny... I don’t feel well at all,” Sentinel stammered. “I gotta go!” he shouted as he took off, running at top speed for the lake, hoping to hit the water before something slipped out and embarrassed him to death.

“You… you… you transmuted a hairy mustache onto Celestia’s statue!” Twilight stammered.

“Luna’s too,” Bucky responded as his horn flashed and Celestia’s statue turned into a hideous shade of plaid. “Hmm, nice colour.”

“Plaid is not a colour,” Twilight argued.

“Sure it is. When a pony is wearing a tie that is plaid, how do we describe it when we see it?” Bucky retorted good naturedly.

“We say that he is wearing a plaid tie,” Twilight said slowly… “Wait, you tricked me, plaid is not a colour!” Twilight recoiled in horror, her mouth dropping open. “You made Luna puce coloured!”

“And gave her a goatee. Helps with that whole “evil” appearance,” Bucky mentioned, explaining his reasoning.

“Why am I watching you commit magical vandalism?” Twilight whined.

“Because deep down, you want to join me. See that statue of Cadance over there?” Bucky replied, grinning wickedly. “You love Cadance… so give her a makeover.”

Grumbling, Twilight cautiously approached the statue. She looked to the left, then to the right, then behind her, and finally, she looked up. She and Bucky were alone. “This feels wrong.”

“Of course it’s wrong,” Bucky answered. “Looking forward to Saddle Arabia?”

Chewing her on her lip, Twilight did not respond right away. She was too busy turning Cadance a nauseating shade of avocado green. “I’ve been there a few times now,” she finally answered. “I don’t like how they treat males there,” she muttered as she turned Cadance’s hair a revolting rainbow of sewage coloured sludge.

“Is there going to be a problem with me being there?” Bucky asked.

“So long as I make it clear that you are not for sale or trade,” Twilight grumbled in reply.

“Oh dear,” Bucky gasped.

“Not slaves… well, not in the traditional sense. Pets really. Pampered. Loved. Spoiled. Males are rare down there and what few there are… well, they’re spoiled pompous brats with a roaring sense of self entitlement. The mares do keep them happy, and social status is determined by factors like how spoiled and pampered your stallion is. Even with the seemingly loving attitudes, the males are occasionally sold or contracted for breeding purposes. Rarity’s cat has better manners than most of the males in Saddle Arabia,” Twilight explained.

“Hmm,” Bucky hummed, admiring Twilight’s work. “Cadance is missing something. How about some braces on her smile and some horn rimmed glasses?”

“Brilliant,” Twilight crowed. “Oh, wait, what am I saying? You monster!”

“You call me a monster, but you’ve added braces, an external retainer, and hideous glasses,” Bucky quipped.

“And I made her cross eyed,” Twilight added.

“You know, the cross eyed thing is just mean…” Bucky stated.

“Oh… your wife… I’m so sorry… I’m an awful pony… I’m the monster!” Twilight shouted fretfully. She started to say something else, but choked on her words when she heard Bucky laughing behind her. She turned around and saw her own statue. It was bile yellow with puke green polka dots. She stared, now completely at a loss for words. Her mane was a day-glo safety cone orange.

“Our work is done here, we should move on. The guard will be patrolling in less then three minutes,” Bucky warned.

Twilight followed after Bucky, hoping they wouldn't get caught.

Author's Notes:

Awful alliteration!

And so begin the Train Mini Arc.

Typos.