Chapter 1: Lavender & beeswax

"Cecilia, please... just a while longer," the knight said.

A leather boot, hastily strapped with a metal shin-guard, hit solid stone as the armoured man stepped through the mirror.

Pitch darkness surrounded him. Only the gentle, shimmering, blue light of the oval mirror behind him illuminated the cracked floors. The boar spear in his hands and dagger tucked into his belt were his only defense.

A dull blue glow reflected off the hurriedly arranged pieces of battered plate on his body. His left arm and shoulder encased in a full steel pauldron and gauntlet whilst his right arm bore only an iron spaulder and a leather glove. Either leg had a metal shin guard strapped over well-worn leather boots. While a hauberk, a white tabard and an over-stuffed leather traveling pack stacked down on his shoulders. His gear rattled with each shift of his body, unbalanced, ill-kept.

An embarrassing assortment, but he had no time to plan for this.

One part simply wasn't negotiable; his helmet. An angular, hawkish armet of finest make. The front portion of the face plate had been stuffed full of lavender petals, while the breathing holes were sealed with beeswax. A leather strip wrapped over his mouth keeping the concoction from suffocating him. He didn't care for the smell at first but by now his burnt nostrils simply didn't notice it. Far worse a scent came from the pair of pale green glass shards pasted over his helmet's eye slits that reeked of animal hide glue.

Ultimately, it was a small price to pay to avoid disease-causing miasmic air. Uncle was quite specific; bring back Cecilia and nothing more.

He looked around, shadows and shapes tested his mettle. Between the pitch blackness of the halls and the green-coloured glass over his helmet's slits, he couldn't tell if there were wind-swept curtains or serpents in the corner. A jagged hole in the ceiling displaying a view of the starry night sky.

His muffled, huffing breath was the only sign of life in the dead hall.

"Cecilia?" He cried into the darkness: as best as one could through a layer of leather, steel and flower petals. "Cecilia, are you there? It's me, Gareth! Your husband! I've come to take you home!"

No answer.

Gareth grit his teeth. He took a knee, pulling his lantern free from the pack. His gloved right hand fiddled with the latch, striking the candle inside with flint.

"Christi crux est mea lux." He stood, raising the flickering light source to head height. "But in this case, a lantern will do."

Gareth's eyes quickly adjusted to the candle light, even if it only spread out by a few feet in every direction. Enough to stop him from falling into a pit at least, he reasoned. Between the tiny glass slits in his helmet and candle light, it would be a miracle if that held true.

He glanced back. The mirror's blue glow taunted him. A day had already passed, he was running out of time.

He stepped forward, armour clinking in the pitch darkness.

Only God knew where that portal had taken him, Gareth was beginning to doubt this was Earth at all. Yet, some sights remained familiar. He was in a castle, old and abandoned. Abandoned by whom and for what, he couldn't fathom.

The stone was old, but sturdy. Signs of battle lay everywhere. That was his first clue that he wasn't in England. King Edward the fourth's back-and-forth war with the God-damned Lancasters were fought on fields and forests, not castles. Then again, with the gold from the crown drying up, Rockingham castle was only in marginally better condition than this one.

Wait... what if this was Cecilia's castle? Gareth froze mid-step. He knew that his beloved suffered a grievous head wound when he met her. She spoke of being a princess of a far-off land called 'Equestria'. The local map-makers and cartographers' guilds expressed ignorance of it. Cecilia's injury was severe, he couldn't tell the fact from the delirium, and of late, neither could she.

The stories she told... of unicorns and pegasi, dragons and beasts. Those stories enthralled him. True, she claimed that she WAS of those beasts in human form, but young Father Clemens steadfastly believed that she was touched in the head, not possessed. How could such a gentle soul be possessed?

His boot hit carpet.

Gareth stopped, holding the lantern close as he kneeled. Wait... this wasn't a carpet, it was a fallen tapestry.

He gripped the bottom, pulling it straight.

The cloth itself was in beautiful condition, it rolled out like new.

He stood upon it, holding the flickering candlelight close.

It looked like heraldry; a scene of pure gold with a white border. Within the golden weave it depicted a horse. No, a uni- wait, this one had wings. What was it that Cecilia called it-? An 'alicorn'? Yes. The tapestry had a white alicorn standing atop the waves with clouds behind and a rising sun above.

"Standing upon water? Oh dear, how sacrilegious." Gareth smiled.

Perhaps that's where Cecilia got the idea from. She called herself an alicorn but it was merely her family's symbol.

The breath froze in his lungs. Perhaps...perhaps it was her family who stole her away..

His grip tightened on the lantern's squeaking handle. He knew that Cecilia would not have gone of her own accord. She wouldn't, he refused to believe it. He stepped off the tapestry, continuing down whichever way the hall might lead.

The stone paths were becoming familar. There wasn't a soul alive in this castle, he was certain of it. That meant that his highest priority was finding a way out of it.

There was padding of paws in the hall ahead.

Gareth's pulse raced. His mind fled and his body took over.

Just from the sounds he knew that the beast was large. The claws of a lion and the size of a war horse. The thing stayed just on the edge of the candlelight, a large shadow looming near.

Gareth calmly clipped the lantern to his hip as his free hand reached up to brace the boar spear. His knees buckled down as he readied himself. Between the pathetic glow of the candlelight and the slits of his helmet he was more reliant on sound and feeling than sight. There would be only one chance. He would not flee in the face of it.

There was a rattling in the darkness. Scraping claws, a deep, heavy breathing accompanied by the sound of leather rustling like a storm cloak... or great wings. A feline face hovered in the dark.

Gareth's sweating hands gripped the trembling spear.

The creature's throat rumbled like thunder.

The human stood his ground. To flee in the face of a predator would be death. Back off, remain calm, and it will do likewise.

Feeling returned in Gareth's feet as he shuffled back, a muffled chink of metal accompanying each step.

Before long, the face vanished in the dark. He could hear the creature retreating.

Gareth half-collapsed, pressing a hand against his pounding chest. His hearted slammed through his chain-mail. Perhaps life as Uncle's gamekeeper hadn't been nearly a foolish a choice after all.

It must have been hours since he'd arrived, and his encounter with that... creature had fortunately not been repeated, but now he was practically creeping around every corner. At the very least, he'd found what he hoped was the throne-room of the castle.

He lifted the lantern high, trying to shed light upon the twin footsteps leading up to the pair of thrones before him.

One throne was gold, the other was black... or a dark blue. Each had a tapestry of matching colour hanging above, along with a mirrored alicorn facing the other. A king and queen?

He turned, shaking his head. He could search this place for weeks but he still would not find Cecilia in it. If she was here, he'd have found her by now. He needed to find a lay of the land, and quickly, if he wanted to find his way out.

There, in front of him, was a balcony with a sweeping view of the landscape.

He hurried forward. One hand reached out to grip the stone rail as he peered over the edge. His accursed helmet did little to help him, but at least the full moon's light made it possible to see further than his out-stretched hand.

A courtyard loomed below, as ill-kept and abandoned as the rest of the castle. Shapes in the gloom only teased at their existence. Once or twice he thought there may have been something moving but--

Gareth noticed something large swaying in the wind beyond the castle grounds. A rope bridge extended over a chasm at the front of the castle. Beyond that, a tangled forest stretched out as far as the eye could see.

His leather glove creaked as he gripped the rail harder. To the forest, then.

The moment Gareth turned, a shadow passed over the corner of his helmet. The shadow turned to the shape of a spire, reaching up from the castle, only just out of sight, with the exception of magnificent sigil. A sigil in the shape of, a glowing sun; Cecilia's sigil.

Gareth's body moved before his mind could complete the idea.

Gareth's armour clinked as he charged through the castle. Retraced his steps, moved towards where the spire ought to have been, giving only the occasional glance for whatever might attack.

His heart slammed in his chest as he mounted the staircase, rushing up two steps at a time. "Cecilia."

The lantern in his grip swung and creaked. The stone windows and brickwork rushed past, offering glimpses of the dark world outside. "Cecilia!"

The stairs ended. A pair of decrepit wooden doors stood in his way.

"CECILIA!" He shouted, kicking them open.

Splinters sprayed forward in a cloud of dust.

Gareth stood in the doorway, huffing and glancing about as the haze settled.

Decaying white curtains over a single window, a set of three cracked black armoires, a cracked ivory vanity and a massive four-poster bed of white sheets and gold frame; a bedroom.

Surely, this was once Cecilia's. He stepped forward, looking at the bedding and pulling aside the sheets.

Empty. Of course.

Gareth sighed, nervously chuckling to himself. His wife had not fled because she wanted a bigger bed.

Still, there was something about the bedding that was odd. In fact, all of the furniture he'd seen was odd. The chairs were both too small and too wide, as though they either expected a child or two adults to sit upon them. Even this bed was far wider than it was long. If Gareth lay in it he suspected that his feet would dangle out over the bottom.

He shook his head. This was not important.

There was a skittering in the wind.

He raised his spear, head jerking about.

He looked to the ivory vanity. A sheet of paper on the table danced with the wind from the window.

Gareth walked over, laying the spear against the wall beside it.

The sheets had been affixed by a few golden paper weights.

He lifted one, pulling the lantern closer. No, that couldn't be right. He squinted, pulling it closer until it was inches away from his face.

Yet... the massive twin, rounded battlements and tiny gate nestled between were unmistakable.

It was home: Rockingham castle.

He dropped the sheet, picking up another.

The kindly face of young Father Clemens stared back, dressed in full habit and nervously fiddling with his rope belt. Another; it was one of the Destriers, Potestas.

Oh, Potestas... he broke his neck in a crevice a year ago, one of the visiting hunting lords tried to ride him after a deer.

Yet another, and another. Sketch after sketch of his home.

Who had been creating these, and why? Cecilia... when she spoke about the mirror. "Only open for three days, closed for thirty moons. Open for three, closed for thirty," Gareth muttered her words under his breath. She said that no one knew where she was. She-- were these hers? Did she send them back to her kin? Was she a spy?

One last sketch caught his eye. Gareth recognised the man in the sketch; it was himself. He was playing in the dirt with one of the boar hounds, grabbing it by the neck and rolling about. That was when he first met Cecilia, gently sketching what she saw.

She was beautiful. From her untouched white dress and tanned skin, to her exotic pink eyes and unnaturally coloured brown, blue and green hair. He was mesmerised at the very sight.

Gareth nervously brushed himself off and willed himself to speak to her. To his shock, she didn't turn him away. She spoke with him. She... she spoke about anything, about him, about the dogs, about houses, about her home, anything. God, he would do anything to hear her speak.

She said that she was a princess from a foreign land, and he immediately clammed up. Yet the way she smiled at him made his heart soar. He thought that, even if he was just a minor noble, maybe... just maybe.

But she was to leave within two days, and he could not go with her. The thought crushed him. Then again, Gareth was used to disappointment.

Then the most horrible... most wonderful thing happened. He hated himself for that feeling. She was injured, knocked unconscious by a swinging bucket.

She awoke within three days and she...clawed at the base of the horse statue in the courtyard. She said that the way home was closed and that she could not return.

It was then that he knew that she was insane. Yet... it was also when he knew that she would remain.

A gust of wind tugged the sketch from his lose fingertips, scraping across the tiled floor.

But she wasn't insane, was she? Her kingdom was real. Now it was his turn to face facts.

There was a glint of light in the vanity's mirror.

Gareth turned, snatching his spear from the way and thrusting it high.

An orange glow reflected from the window. The sun rose, shining through moldy curtains. The second day had just begun.

He walked over to the window, looking down at the now-illuminated landscape. The forest stretched on further than he thought.

A mountain rose up in the far distance, surrounded by verdant fields and flowing rivers. Upon it, a purple spire rose out of a city, ringed by fortifications.

A castle. An Occupied castle by the state of it. Yet, the distance from here was immense. The journey would take days, perhaps more, at the very least.

Gareth's throat dried up in an instant, his breath became shallow. This was it. Either he looked about this decaying castle one final time, and find her right right now, or he went home... to try again in another three years. Assuming she still wanted to be found after so long... or wasn't dead.

Gareth found himself walking back. Down the stairs, towards the mirror.

The castle, once frightening, didn't seem all that scary anymore. He was a proud huntsman, a man of stature and a war veteran. He was someone in England. Here... what would he be here? What of his duty to his uncle? Would he find another huntsman? What would happen to the animals that he tended for? Could Gareth live with the guilt?

What of Cecilia? What of his duty to her? Did... was she worth this? Did he really love her enough to abandon everything he was?

These questions needed months to answer. He had less than 48 hours. Life or death decisions were easy. He made them for a solid ten years as an archer. But this...

Gareth stood before the mirror, the blue glow illuminating him. The hole in the ceiling now let down a shaft of golden sunlight.

Even the all-encompassing smell of lavender and beeswax couldn't cover up the stench of his failure.

Search that castle, or search this one. Gareth's duty to his wife or his duty to his lord. Cecilia or Rockingham.

Gareth squeezed his eyes shut. Uncle... what he wouldn't have done for your advice right now.

A distant, echoing whinny rolled down the halls.

The sound dragged Gareth back to the present. He spun around, clipping the lantern back to his hip and pulling up the boar spear.

There was something in the dark of this castle. That sound... almost horse-like, yet not quite.

He'd spent his entire life around them. He'd heard them afraid, angry, happy; an entire spectrum of emotions. That timbre, the pitch... it wasn't right. Gareth glanced back at the portal. It would close in another two days. There was an entire squad of men-at-arms on the other side ready to stop whatever beast might step through. Even still... he could help fend off intruders.

He surged forward, armour clinking with each pace. For the first time in years, he was relieved at the threat of battle.

Chapter 2: Mud & tears

White hooves in golden shoes raised up in front of her.

She held them up to her face, flexing, turning.

Gilded metal twisted from the shoes, underneath and up, covering her shins-- uh, 'cannons' was the right term, wasn't it? The priceless metal gleamed, faultless and clean, faultless despite walking through the dirt outside.

They were her hooves. Cecilia tried her best to remember that. She placed them back down as she nervously walked through the immaculate white and gold room. Glancing up at the white tapestries hung overhead.

Who could possibly afford such affluence? Cecilia paused in front of a balcony entrance, covered over by a heavy red curtain. Just nudging it with her forehoof told her that it must have been weighted down.

With a swipe of a foreleg, it clicked aside.

The view stole her breath.

Before her was the visual masterpiece that was Equestria. Long, verdant meadows stretching as far as the eye could see, occasionally interspersed by forest and rimmed with distant mountains. A cloudless blue sky stretched out above like a dome. The light and hue of the day glowed with a seemingly innate energy and joy.

She inched onto the tiny balcony wishing, not for the first time that day, for hands to clutch it with.

Then she looked down.

Just over six hundred feet below was a bustling city. Peop-- ponies went about their business with a calm eagerness and joy. The buildings were as bright and colourful as their inhabitants. Most roofs and structures were wooden, but some were metal, topped with gold and purple spirals that reached up like cake icing. The sheer rush of foot traffic reminded her of London, only its natives seemed to live with each other instead of in spite of each other. This was Canterlot; the city of Cecilia's dreams.

No, that wasn't entirely true. Things were different from what she remembered. There were new buildings on the exterior of city. She recalled that she didn't want them to build outside the city limits. Didn't she?

Her pink eyes glanced over the buildings once more. They all seemed so happy. Why did they need her at all? Maybe they didn't. Maybe they were just looking for answers. Maybe she could go back to-

"Princess Celestia!" The shrill girl squeaked from behind her.

Cecilia's wings splayed up in fright, feathers flicking out as her head whipped around.

A young white-coated unicorn stood behind Cecilia. Her braided red mane tied up around her head, a pair of white ears stuck out of the horizontal wrapping. Despite her position, she wore a relatively humble gown, her fore-legs went through the sleeves, with the dress ending near her flank and hind-legs.

Cecilia's ears folded back. Goodness, that action alone felt strange. Ears weren't meant to move. "Gleaming Horizon," said Cecilia, trying to recall how she addressed... well, anyone here. "You'd note that I've yet to leap off the balcony. Presumably you're not too disappointed as you seemed to given it your best effort to scare me out of my skin."

Gleaming's face fell, red eyes casting downwards.

Cecilia immediately regretted opening her mouth.

"I-- I'm sorry, your majesty." Gleaming anxiously rubbed her foreleg. "It's just... it's you! Princess Celestia!"

"It's... me?"

Gleaming stepped forward, grinning widely. "Yes! You defeated Discord, banished Nightmare Moon, kept the three races together and never, ever gave up. When I stepped forward to be your lady-in-waiting two years ago... I-I never thought I'd actually get to BE your lady-in-waiting," tears began to well up in her eyes. "I-I never thought..."

Hero worship then. Cecilia sighed. Best play the role, there was no reason to hurt Gleaming's feelings more than she already had. Cecilia walked over to the mare, wrapping a foreleg around her.

"Now, now, none of that," Cecilia said, smiling down at her. "I'm not nearly as important as ponies make me out to be. I know that it all seems amazing in story and song but I guarantee you, if it were not me, then another would have taken my place. Besides, things have gotten on well despite me not being here, haven't they?"

"Begging your pardon, your majesty," a gruff, male voice said, "but I wouldn't quite put it like that."

Cecilia looked up, frowning as she held Gleaming a bit closer.

A middle-aged pegasus in military dress stood in the doorway. The bizarre, white bushy moustache on his muzzle, swished around in thought. He wore more clothing than most ponies Cecilia had seen, with a blue jacket and peaked hat, both adorned with campaign ribbons. His grey, speckled mane was was neatly trimmed, in keeping with standards, if Cecilia recalled, with a salt-and-peppered yellow coat.

"I'm sorry, who are you?" Cecilia asked.

"O-oh, right!" Gleaming squirmed out from underneath Cecila's foreleg, bolting ahead. She turned turning on the spot and waving a nervous forehoof at the pegasus. "Ahem, Princess Celestia, I present to you, Colonel Purple Dart of the Wonder Bolts!" She said, grinning as though hoping she'd gotten that right.

"Colonel Purple Dart?" Cecilia asked, raising a brow.

"Indeed, ma'am," the Colonel said, "We've met in passing before your... rather abrupt sojourn. Of course, it was just 'Captain' Purple Dart back then. Uh, apologies for your extraction. I understand that it got a little rough with your rescuers being so... anxious in their new forms."

Cecilia nostrils flared, willing her temper back under control. The memories of what happened earlier today came all too harshly. The terror and indignity of it all. "I'm not sure I would call 'grabbing a civilian as she went to fetch some water, then ignoring her kicks and screams as you dragged her into a statue' as being simply a 'little rough'."

"Indeed," the Colonel averted his eyes, coughing into his forehoof. "Regardless, you're back now. I respect that you might need some time off after your rather horrible experience, but times have changed my liege. Equestria needs you to re-establish order and all your work to stop it from spinning apart is in jeopardy.

"Before you left, the Earth ponies were already toeing the line regarding over-settling, but now they've gone and done it. They've far over-extended the lines of protection that Cloudsdale can provide. While we've done our best to pull them in... we can't protect, or stop, all of them forever. Don't even get me started on the unicorns!"

"What about the unicorns?" Cecilia asked.

Gleaming spasmed, suddenly gesturing to herself. "Oh-! Uh, please allow me, colonel," she said, smiling nervously at Cecilia. "You see, princess, the unicorn houses are-- uh-- almost in active revolt."

Cecilia stared down at Gleaming, who was looking increasingly like she wanted to merge with the carpet.

"Th-th-they saw your absence as a failure of leadership! Word of your return hasn't quelled things either, if anything, I-I think it's gotten worse! They don't just want to rule themselves, they want to rule ALL ponies!" Gleaming said.

A bead of sweat rolled down Cecilia's brow. Play the role, Cecilia, play the role. "Is... this true?"

"Hmph," the Colonel grunted, "Of course it is. The Unicorn nobles always saw themselves as being superior. That's not happening, of course, not while Cloudsdale stands strong!"

"Then you can keep the peace?"

"Well..." Colonel Purple Dart sighed, his facade of control began to fall away. "As much as I regret to say it, Cloudsdale is beginning to fray. The Equestrian Guard is becoming increasingly factionalised and I've become Cloudsdale's leader in all but name." He trotted up to Cecilia, brows furrowed in desperation. “Your majesty, we need the centuries of guidance you can provide. Please... give us your orders,"

Cecilia's mind raced. How... how could she possibly handle this? She could remember a time when her memories were clear of her past, but now they were just memories of memories. Now she needed to lead them all again? They looked at her with such desperation and hope. She remembered those looks. Her ponies needed her.

She plumbed the depths of her memories, but they came only in slowly increasing bursts. Every minute that passed she could recall more, but the well of her mind was right now only giving up naught but a few droplets. Yet, they expected her to lead them? But even if she wanted to, how could she just forget about--

"Your majesty?" Gleaming murmured.

There was a clatter of hooves on stone. Cecilia only narrowly registered that she was backing away from the two of them with what must be a look of fear on her face. Slowly she saw the confusion increase on their faces. Expressions that would no-doubt soon be followed by looks of betrayal.

"COLONEL!" Cecilia mentally thanked the Pega-guard in the doorway for his timely arrival. She recognised the elaborate golden barding, wings and white coat. That was a sight she couldn't forget.

"What is the meaning of this?! Pega-guard, report!" The Colonel barked.

The guard's wings splayed out in a nervous bow. "Colonel, the platoon around the Castle of the Two Sisters encountered something. They said that it was some kind of bipedal golem of 'iron and leather'. They tried to herd it back into the Mirror b-but it attacked them with a spear!"

A golem of 'iron and leather'? Biped-- Cecilia's eyes widened, barely registering the Colonel's next words.

""What?!" He snapped an angry forehoof to the solider. "I want a full lock-down, immediately! NOTHING gets out of that castle, is that understood?"

Cecilia stepped forward, a familiar sense of control swept over her. "Guardspony."

"Uh, y-yes, your majesty?"

Cecilia narrowed her eyes. "What did this 'golem' look like?"

Because Cecilia had a horrible, wonderful, feeling that she knew exactly what it was...

Cecilia stepped off the golden chariot, walking side-by-side with colonel Purple Dart towards the Castle of the Two Sisters, nestled deep in the heart of the Everfree Forest.

She could feel the wind blow through her ethereal hair on the flight over. She remembered that. Cecilia used a simple magic spell on herself, both for practicality and for practice, so her naturally pink mane wouldn't drag along the ground.

The dilapidated castle stood before. Its outline fitted into Cecilia's recollection like a pane of stained-glass popping into a frame. Nothing had changed. Even the dawning sun's warm light couldn't pretend that it had anything approaching life. The dead structure remained every bit the tombstone that it ever was, a testament to mistakes made long ago, and a somber reminder of her sister’s continued imprisonment.

Cecilia shook her head, looking down to the colonel. "Remind me, that method is new, isn't it?"

"Ah, the 'Pegasus Express'?" The Colonel's chest swelled with pride. "Yes, ma'am, we've set it up in the past year, attempt to trial some rapid transportation of key Uni-guards. Although I must admit, we've never used it to get to the Everfree before."

"There's a first time for everything, I suppose," Cecilia said.

It didn't take them long to reach the overgrown castle grounds. A handful of tents were pitched along the few patches of clear grass. There was a symbol on the side of one of the tents. Two alicorns, one blue and the other white, circling around a sun and a moon. The Equestrian flag.

Her... no, their flag.

The pegasus in golden barding kicked up dirt as he ground to a halt in front of them. He gave Cecilia a brief, almost goofy smile.

"Guardspony, report," the colonel said, glancing at Cecilia out the corner of his eye.

The guard's head snapped back, his back straightening as he snapped up a salute. "Colonel, I take full responsibility for what happened. I should have had my forces lock the mirror down immediately."

The Colonel trotted forward until his face was only a few inches away. "Did I stutter, lieutenant? I wanted a report, now!"

"Sir, yes, sir!" The Pega-guard returned, saluting once more. "We attempted to corner the golem and drive it back into the Mirror, sir! Uni-guard Flash Bang tried scaring it back with some non-lethal flashes and crackles. That creature was on guard before, but those noises seemed to make it go-- well, berserk, sir! It stabbed Flash Bang in the neck and ran past!"

A pang of guilt erupted in Cecilia's gut. "How is the Uni-guard?" She asked.

The guardspony smiled in appreciation. “He's fine, your majesty. The spear didn't get past the chain coif, but it did rip up his skin a bit." He turned back to the Colonel. "The creature ran off into the Everfree, but we just can't track it magically. I can't explain it, but I think it's got some kind of 'notice-me-not' spell or something on it. It just sorta... 'snuck up' on us. Even when it was there, it was hard to focus on, like it wasn't even alive."

The Colonel face-hoofed, growling into it. "So... you have a creature that you can't track, that tried to kill one of you, alive, in the Everfree, right now."

The guardspony shook his head. "Not quite sir, Private Styre has gone after it. He's got a nose unlike any pony alive."

"Great, now he’s missing too." The colonel looked up Cecilia. "Princess Celestia, what are you orders?"

But Celestia was already moving. She stepped away from the camp, spreading her wings. Perhaps she couldn't fully remember everything, but she hadn't forgotten everything, either. She remembered enough for this.

Princess Celestia glanced back over her shoulder. "Stay here, wait for me. My little ponies are in danger, and I know exactly how to handle it."

With a single beat of her majestic white wings, she took off up into the morning sky. Within moments, she was but a white dot in the sky, flying low over the Everfree.

Colonel Purple Dart remembered that sight from when he was but a colt. A white alicorn flying high in the sky, doing everything she could to help her people.

He lifted a forehoof in a silent salute, a genuine smile twisting his moustache upwards. "It's good to have you back, Princess."

Gareth's lungs and muscles burned as he rushed forward. He splashed through the thick mud and leaves underfoot. He didn't look back.

The trees of forest streaked past on either side. They looked like nothing more than green smears through his glass-covered visor.

He skidded to a halt, doubling over and willing himself not to heave his guts through his helmet. This had to be far enough.

The forest was quiet. The braying faded into the distance.

Damn it. God damn it all. Those barded creatures, whatever they were, they were obviously sent to stop him. They tried to corral him, force him back, but he couldn't go. Not without Cecilia.

Then one of them conjured up some foul magics that sounded just like... j-just like...

Gareth coughed violently, spitting sweat out of his mouth which splattered across his leather mask.

He pulled up a trembling hand. He remembered it being drenched in blood: Jobasha's blood. The thundering cannons and the explos-

"No--" Gareth groaned, cradling his head.

He immediately regretted that, as now half of his glass visor was covered in mud from his glove.

"Oh Gareth you id--" Gareth shook his head once more. "NO! Concentrate! You're not a coward, Gareth, you're not! You've just got to find Cecilia. Got to find..." he trailed off, looking around himself.

The forest was dark, darker than one would expect for daytime. Only a few specks of the blue-orange sky could be seen though the foliage. How much brighter would it be without this mud-smeared helmet? The lavender petals suffocated him as much as they protected him.

A flicker of white passed overhead. White wings.

Gareth's eyes widened; they were looking for him. He quickly looked about.

A deep ditch lay just a few metres away.

Gareth rushed to one side, skidding into the muddy crevice. His suit of armour was undeniably going to be clay encrusted after this, but that was worry for another time. He stopped to listen.

Silence. Only the sound of his huffing breath and thudding heart filled his ears. Seconds turned to minutes as he waited.

A trembling hand reached up to his visor, trying to wipe the mud from it.

He only succeeded in further smearing it.

Damn it, he needed a cloth--

There was a clatter of hooves on mud. A large nose sniffed against the ground, walking forward a few steps then sniffing again.

Gareth felt a spike of confusion at the sound. The hoof-falls indicated a smaller animal; the sniffing suggested a dog. What there a hunting dog mounted on a horse or... Damn it. He'd have to take a look. Gareth peeked out of the ditch.

A barded creature stared back.

"Guh-ah!" Gareth yelped and flopped back. His hand went for his boar sp-- wait, where was his spear?! Grabbing to his waist, his left hand drew the dagger from his belt, stabbing it out to the creature in trembling hands.

The beast cocked it head to the side, giving him a better view of its crimson coat and black mane. This one seemed to have disposed of the elegant silver helmet of its fellows, instead allowing it to hang by its side by a strap in its barding. A pair of yellow eyes watched him with an almost... bored look in its eyes.

"Stay back!" Gareth grunted, shuffling away.

It's eyes widened. The creature's mouth parted in shock, looking up. A series of cracking branches and rustling leaves rumbled from above as a white horse crashed into the ground.

"Jesus!" Gareth swore, backpedling further. "Wings? These things can fly now?"

The white horse stood, looking down at the barded creature in front of it, who looked back, just as surprised as Gareth was. Then the white horse said... something.

Gareth knew that it was speaking. There was no way that was a typical horse whinny or knicker or... any other kind of sound. Instead it sounded like so many things. The closest he could describe it would be as a whinny with a pleasing, consistent undertone. There was a certain dignity in it as well. In a way it reminded him a language from the mainlands... well, only as spoken by a horse.

Gareth growled, trying to get a closer look through his visor whilst also keeping his distance.

The barded creature let out a single groaning bray, then walked away.

Then they were alone.

The white horse turned to him.

Gareth reversed the grip on his dagger, steadying his stance. If he was going to die, then he was going to be taking one of them with him.

"You should not be here," the white horse spoke in a soft voice.

Gareth throat dried. He knew that voice. Cecilia. It was Cecilia. No, it couldn't be her. It-- no! Words tumbled from his lips, nothing more than confused mewlings.

The horse's head tilted. "What did you say?" Once more, in his wife's voice.

That was it.

Gareth roared in frustration, jabbing the dagger back into his belt.

His hands lifted up, finding the clips at the base and sides of his helmet. A few clicks and clatters sounded as he unlached and pulled the helmet pulled away.

Petals of lavender drifted down by his face. His burnt nostrils cleared, only to be filled by the smell of recent rainfall, mud and heavy forest.

With a metallic clatter, he threw the helmet against the ground, huffing in barely contained fury. Gareth looked up at the white horse with burning tears in his eyes. He'd failed.

Celestia's heart froze at the sight of him. She could never forget that face.

The face of an Englishman in his late twenties with the start of lines on either side of his cheeks. Medium-length blonde hair that swayed in the breeze. A dusty-yellow beard, short trimmed and well maintained, just as she liked it. A pair of brown eyes that effortlessly switched between being so distant and so very close, eyes that now stared at her in defiance. It was Gareth.

She didn't want him to see her like this.

He looked her up and down. Slowly, his rage quietened as he began to understand.

"Th-this is not a place for humans. You must leave," Celestia said.

Gareth locked eyes with her. His jaw locked, face contorting into a grimace.

Damn it, Gareth, couldn't you just listen for once?

"I'm not leaving without my wife," Gareth growled.

"What if your wife can't go?"

Gareth balled his fists. Tears welled up out the corners of his eyes.

"Then I will stay with her!"

Celestia's eyes widened.

"I..." Gareth paused, looking over her form. A grim determination swept over his face. He stepped over his helmet, trotting on the scattered petals. With a heaving knee, he stepped out of the ditch and walked towards her. "If I can't take Cecilia back, then I'm staying with her."

Celestia stifled a gasp. There was a clatter of hooves on mud, the clay splattering up the sides of her ankles as she backpedaled rapidly.

Gareth didn't stop.

Celestia couldn't help but notice just how tall he was. In the ditch he was no higher than Private Styre, now his head was on level with hers. Each step was deceptively long, and each one taking him closer and closer into making a terrible mistake.

"You don't belong here!" she said, increasingly desperate.

"I belong at my spouse's side," Gareth said, utterly calm. "That is my decision. Accept me, or destroy me."

"I-I'm not human, Gareth! Only the Mirror's magic can make me that way; it's not possible on this side!"

Before Celestia knew it, a pair of muddy gloves clapped on either side of her neck. She flinched at the touch, unable to mask the fear on her face.

Yet, Gareth just smiled. He pulled her into his strong, clinking chest. Arms folded around her, resting his chin on her head.

"I know, Cecilia, but we'll work this out. We always have," Gareth sighed in relief.

Celestia's ears twitched as his smell filled her nose. At once the complexity of his scent never felt stronger. It calmed her. They were only ever this close in a warm bed or in a meadow on a sunny day.

Celestia forced herself to try to pull away, as far as his firm but yielding grip would let her, looking at him with anguish on her face.

"Gareth... neither of us knew for certain. Y-you don't have to do this. The marriage isn't binding," said Celestia.

Gareth paused at that. He closed his eyes, sighing. "Cecilia... do you remember when Father Clemens married us? I was asked if I would take you in 'sickness and in health'. I-" he glanced away, "I didn't realise that we wed upon the former and not the latter."

A dam of emotion threatened to break in Cecilia's chest. The harrowing events of the day rushed through her mind while tears welled at the corners of her eyes. She grit her teeth, willing herself stop crying.

Then Gareth looked to her with those sympathetic eyes. He shook his head. A hand pressed on the back of her head, pushing it forward onto his shoulder.

"G-Gareth?" She murmured.

"It's okay," he whispered

That was it. Cecilia choked, the dam shattered. It was okay. A choke turned to a sob, which turned to crying, which quickly became out-right bawling on her husband's shoulder.

"Now, now, none of that," Gareth said, stroking her neck. "Besides Cecilia, I'm English. You should well know just how belligerent we lot are by now."

So they stayed like that. Celestia crying, and Gareth doing his best not to join in.

All the while trying to shake the feeling that he'd just made a horrible mistake...

Chapter 3: Feathers & piggybacks

Private Styre walked back into the ruined castle's courtyard, alone.

He glanced back to the forest. The stench of that creature clung to his nose, a combination of what he presumed to be sweat and oiled metal. There was something about it, something terrifying and yet pitiful. The way it panicked at Flash Bang's magic tricks wasn't normal fear, not to run shrieking in a single, unbroken pitch. Styre remembered that noise all too well.

He turned back to the camp. From the looks of things, Colonel Purple Dart had picked up from where Celestia left off. His fellow E.U.P guards had already fallen into formation behind him. From the looks of their shiny armour, they were all ready to go in after her.

Styre paused. Ah, right, best get back into uniform. He pulled his mirror-sheen helmet from a hook on his barding and planted it back onto his head. He pressed the blue star on his chest and within an instant, his red coat, yellow eyes and black mane turned white, blue and yellow.

"Private Styre!" The Colonel belted out at him. "Where is Celestia and the creature?"

"The Princess dismissed me, sir," said Styre, gesturing back to the forest and silently thanking Harmony that the Colonel didn't seem to notice. "She's handling it personally."

"Hmmm," the Colonel glanced away, worry etched on his face. "That's what I'm afraid of. I know that she's an alicorn but I'm not sure she knows what she's doing with--"

"SIR!" Styre winced as Flash Bang screamed at the top of his lungs, pointing wildly at the forest. "She's back, sir! Celestia is back! An-… a-and."

The entire unit stared at the treeline, some of their mouths flopped open. Styre frowned, turning to look.

Celestia and the creature walked side-by-side towards them.

Styre mirrored their stunned assessment.

Murmuring immediately broke out among the unit. Some looked ready to rush to Celestia's side, Flash Bang in particular.

"Hold up," said Styre, raising a forehoof, "He don't look like a dangerous lad."

"Yeah and what would an earth-grubber like you know, Styre?" Flash Bang spat.

Styre turned back. "More about animals than you'll ever forget, sparkles. Look at its head, it’s taken off its helmet, see it hanging off its belt? That thing is flesh and blood underneath."

"Uh, I kinda see it?" one of the guards said, squinting at the thing. "Is any other pony having a hard time looking at that thing?"

"Alright colts, simmer down and let them approach, I wanna hear this," said the Colonel.

After three minutes of watching in silence, Celestia and the creature had approached the edge of the unit. Immediately the guards began to grow rigid, lining up in combat formation. The Colonel stepped forward, spreading his wings. His green eyes stared down the brown-eyed creature.

Styre thought that it was just the distance, but he had to admit, there was something extremely off about it. He remembered his mother telling him about 'blind spots' in your eyes. That there was a part of the nerve that light wouldn't work in. Normally you wouldn't notice, your other eye filled in the detail, but if you closed one and looked just right, things just… vanished.

That's what the thing next to Celestia looked like, drifting into and out of reality itself.

Styre glanced back to the unit; perhaps they were idiots, but they seemed to be having even more trouble as he was. They tried to keep their attention on it, but their eyes kept slipping off. Still, by the second they were getting better at focusing near or just past it.

The thing glared at the Colonel, or at least Styre thought it was glaring. He could barely see its fleshy, yet hairy face. What was clear was the sound of a multitude of small joints popping as the end of its right appendage reached up to its belt.

Celestia spared a worried glance to the creature next to her. She cleared her throat into her forehoof, gesturing to the hole in reality.

There was a shuffle of feet and hooves as everypony's gaze snapped to her, including the creature.

"Now that I have your attention, allow me to introduce my--" Celestia froze mid-sentence, her eyes widening as if suddenly remembering something. "My uh--"

Styre frowned, there was something more to that. Ain't nopony could call him a genius but he wasn't an idiot.

Celestia cleared her throat again, padding her neck with an apologetic smile. "Pardon me; I am still not quite used to the old equipment. This is Sir Gareth Fletcher," she finished.

The thing tilted its head at Celestia's mention of that… last garble of speech. Styre's eyes narrowed, it understood her.

The unit immediately blinked in confusion. A few worked their mouths, trying to mimic the noise that Celestia just made underneath their breath. Styre found himself trying to do it, (Gar-eth Flaeetcher).

"As many of you suspect," Celestia continued, "Gareth is from the other side of the Mirror. I assure you, he is quite alive and quite safe if treated kindly. He is one of the beings from the other side: a 'human'. He has made the decision, an extremely serious one I might add, to remain here, as Prince-Consort of Equestria."

Styre's head pulled back, his eyes wide and face twisted in utter bafflement. All the while, the unit sucked in a collected breath, glancing at each other in varying levels of disbelief and disgust. Even the Colonel looked like he was about to explode into a tirade.

The thing's head flicked up, letting out a few chirping sounds. Its legs buckled, both half bending, while it swang its bag off one shoulder. Its hands reached down in the flaps, after a few seconds of rummaging he came back with what Styre recognised as parchment, quill and ink.

It flattened the parchment on one knee, dipped the quill and began scribbling.

Styre made an intrigued noise in his throat, squinting down at the human's rapid yet delicate appendages. Celestia smiled. The rest of the guards feigned disinterest.

The creature looked up to Celestia, opening its mouth as it raised an index finger.

Styre's ear twitched as the Human spoke to Celestia in its strange mother tongue. The sound was unlike anything he had ever heard. He expected it to make ape-like hooting or screeching noises, instead its language had this low, pleasing timbre. He hesitated to call them 'groans' but it was the best comparison he had, even then, it was lilting, almost bird-like.

It... no, Gareth lay the parchment on the ground, stepping away. He turned to them, pointing down at it, barking something at them in Humanish.

Styre responded by blinking in confusion and trying to refocus his attention on him.

Celestia's gaze traced down Gareth's arm, to the note on the ground. Her face fell, giving him a sad expression. Gareth just smiled back, nodding.

"Colonel Purple Dart?" The Colonel perked up as Celestia spoke. "Gareth needs a message to be delivered to the other side of the Mirror. This is a note that will both allay his friends’ suspicions and ensure that they do not attempt to enter through."

Purple Dart glared suspiciously over to Gareth. Gareth returned it.

"Very well… Princess. I'll ensure it is delivered once the ink is dried," the Colonel said, working his jaw. He immediately glanced over to Styre, raising a brow.

Styre felt his ears flop. Of course, it'll be his job.

Celestia sighed in relief. She turned to Gareth and pointed him towards the royal chariot.

Gareth frowned at it; his eyes looked over the empty front braces. He grunted back, face twisting in what the Styre was beginning to recognise as confusion.

Celestia bobbed her head, pointing at her wings.

Gareth looked to her, then to the chariot, then up to the sky. His face paled. Gareth turned back to her, waving his hands, palms out, and shaking his head.

Celestia let out a burst of somewhat annoyed-sounding Humanish. Gareth just shook his head even more vigorously, protesting loudly.

"What's the hold up, ma'am?" The Colonel asked, the sides of his mouth twitching. He looked like he was trying not to smile at the human's expense.

"Gareth is being a baby, excuse me," said Celestia, "I think I can appeal to his masculinity."

Celestia stepped forward, her long foreleg reaching up to his cheek. She spoke in the most honey-dipped voice that Styre had ever heard. He glanced over the rest of the unit to see that, yes, they were also looking quite interested in what she had to say.

Gareth looked deeply into Celestia's eyes. His hand reached up to wrap around her forehoof.

He opened his mouth.

"Fuck. No."

Celestia and Gareth walked through the thick woods of the Everfree, as they have been doing since they had awoken that day.

She suppressed a frustrated sigh, glancing back at her dirt soiled wings and legs.

They needed to camp out in the Castle courtyard that night. Gareth hid it well, but he was close to collapse. Even Celestia was a bit worn out by the day's events. They both slept like the dead in one of the guard's tents.

Then this morning they set out. On hoof. To Canterlot. From the Everfree.

Celestia glared at out the corner of her eye at Gareth. He walked alongside, using his precious boar spear as a walking staff. He glanced around the woods with barely constrained interest and a near-face splitting grin. Everything about the Everfree intrigued him. She had occasionally needed to nudge him away from following some of the smaller fauna, but he was the one to hurry on when they saw the footprints of some of the larger beasts.

"Gareth?"

Her husband glanced back, turning away from a remarkably gnarled tree.

"What exactly was in that letter you sent to Lord Fletcher? What about your oath to him?" Celestia said, her voice dipping.

Gareth frowned, equipment clinking as he shrugged his backpack.

"Well… Uncle said that I was to bring you back and nothing more," Gareth replied. "I'm still not sure what kind of miasma or other diseases are here. What if I accidently brought back some new variant of the plague? England can't afford something like that, especially not so soon after the civil war. So… I told Uncle to wait for my letter to come at the end of 2 and a half years."

"Two years, four months, dear."

"Right, right," Gareth said, waving her off. "The way I reason, I'll either be fine and there isn't any disease that's particularly lethal… or… I'll be dead. Either way, they'll be fine."

"That's not funny," Celestia muttered. "Are you sure about this, Gareth? You still have time to make it back. You... you don't need to do this."

Gareth stared. A moment later, Cecilia realised that he wasn't looking at her eyes, he was looking at her wings.

Cecilia nervously shifted them, stepping to the side to conceal them from view. She quickly realised that it did nothing to help matters.

Gareth approached. His gloved hand reached out, gently touching her feathers. Fine leather fingers found where the bone of her wing was. He frowned in curiosity, right hand reaching up to his mouth. His canines bit the tip of his middle finger, pulled the glove off, and then stuffed it into his belt.

A chill went up Celestia's spine as Gareth's warm, bare hand began to feel around the base where feather met fur. She turned away the moment she felt herself blush.

Gareth looked up, his expression the pinnacle of clinical curiosity. His right hand reached up, touching the tip of her horn, trailing down to the base. He started playing with her ears, gently pressing and tugging. Celestia quickly folded them back out of reach.

Celestia's blush deepened; a foreleg reached up and swiped his hands away from her. She backed off and pinned him with a glare.

"Are you quite done?" said Celestia, privately thanking Harmony that nopony was around to see that.

An impish grin swept over Gareth's features.

"Can I ride you?" He asked.

Celestia's head pulled back in shock.

"Wh-what? Most certainly not!" She yelped.

"Oh c'mon, no one is around!" said Gareth, spreading his arms out.

"You'd remember," Celestia said, jabbing a forehoof at him and then to herself, "and I could never forget!" She shook her head. "Honestly, a wife bearing her husband on her back!"

"You know I'm going to keep asking," said Gareth, grin widening.

Celestia snorted. "Fine then! I'll let you ride me on one condition; that I get to ride you first!"

Gareth blinked.

"I can't even believe this," said Celestia, now suddenly taller atop her mighty steed.

Gareth marched forward out of the Everfree and into Equestria's verdant fields. Each struggling step punctuated by a groaning huff from his bright red face after carrying Celestia on his back for the past twenty metres. His arms trembled as they hooked up underneath Celestia's hindlegs while her forelegs wrapped over his shoulders.

There was a glint of blue and yellow in the sky as a Pegasus dipped down towards them. Celestia's chest seized as she recognised Colonel Purple Dart.

The Colonel's hooves hit the grass. His face quickly mirrored hers: flat disbelief.

"Princess Celestia… with all due respect, what the buck is going on?" He said, watching a groaning Gareth sway side-to-side as Celestia's weight slowly overcame him.

"Losing a bet," Celestia deadpanned.

Gareth halted, struggling in place. He looked up at the burden on his back, then to the Pegasus in front of him. At once, he made a most curiously squeaking noise before collapsing. Celestia yelped to the ground with him, both flopping into a heap of flapping feathers and clinking metal.

Celestia stood first, untangling herself from his limbs and carefully stepping away.

Gareth let out a groan, still trying to get his wind back. He twisted in place in the grass, huffing and looking up at Celestia with a red-faced, triumphant grin.

The Colonel simply shook his head. "Your majesty? Noble Era 'humbly' requests your presence back at Canterlot," he said, his tone bitter. The sides of his mouth twitched angrily. "You're naturally free to ignore the request. I personally despise the idea that he has been using my Wonderbolts as messenger-mares and stallions, least of all myself. Unfortunately, he's gotten quite good at pulling bureaucratic strings that even I can't override."

"Noble Era?" Celestia asked.

"Ah, quite," the Colonel nodded, his face becoming neutral. "He's the 'leader' of the unicorn noble houses. He is sly, smug and reliable for only one thing; that he will look after the interests of his own 'kind' first, second and third. Remember, he has no special authority over you ma'am, but no-doubt he'll try to impress that idea upon you."

Celestia glanced down at Gareth. Gareth looked back, his face shifted from happy to concerned.

"I don't like leaving Gareth alone like this," Celestia said, turning to the Colonel. "There's still a long ways to walk to Canterlot."

"I understand ma'am. I'll have Private Styre keep an eye on him. He seems to be rather good at that."

Celestia lowered herself down to Gareth's level, her head craning in as her legs folded up. "Gareth?" she switched to English, "I need to leave for a while. I'm a princess here and… well, over two years without me has not made administration any easier. Will you be okay here by yourself?"

Gareth tilted his head to one side before nodding and smiling. He reached forward, patting her on the neck. "Don't worry, love, I understand. Besides, I'm a gamekeeper, I think I can somehow survive on a verdant meadow. Frankly, I'm just glad that I was able to trick you into paying me as much attention as I did."

Celestia paused, the gears ticking in her head. Then she couldn't help it, she laughed, a clear, delighted, noise. She turned to the Colonel, changing back to Equestrian, "Gareth said that he understands."

The Colonel seemed to smile despite himself, "Of course, ma'am."

The two of them stood, Gareth finally had his breath back.

She turned to him, smiling as she did, then leaned and licked his cheek.

Gareth flinched away.

Celestia's blood froze. "Gareth?"

Horror filled Gareth's face as he swiped away at his cheek. He stared at the saliva on his hand, then to her, eyes trembling.

She took a step forward.

He took several steps back.

Celestia's eyes widened. She looked him up and down, trying to think what she just did wrong.

"I, Gareth? I-… g-goodbye," said Celestia in a rather clipped tone. She turned away, an uncertain expression on her face as she opened her wings.

With a single beat, she took to the skies. Flying as far and as hard as she could to forget about what she just felt and saw.

Celestia's hooves hit Canterlot castle's landing balcony.

She retracted her wings, breathing deeply, trying to get her breath back under control.

Celestia felt numb, from her head to her legs. The scene played over in her head. She hovered to the side, watching her lick her husband's face. What possessed her to do that? She could see the discomfort on his face. She knew that this… transformation of hers, couldn't be pleasant for him. Yet it seemed to natural to...

Ever since they were married, when they were near each other, it was often physical. He'd hug her, tug at her, play with her hair. She'd nudge him, stroke his arms and occasionally pinch him when he wasn't looking. It was different now. Celestia knew that in the forest, that was Gareth trying in his own way to come to process it.

A series of hooves hit the balcony floor behind her.

An entire wing of Wonderbolts flanked her. They had escorted her in all the way from the edges of Canterlot. She didn't get a good look at their faces, but she was certain they were the same ones who 'rescued' her from Rockingham.

Celestia shook her head, she couldn'y think about this right now. There was far too much to attend to, even her filth-covered hoofs meant little; she needed to regain control as soon as possible. Then she could decide what to do next.

Celestia trotted forward into the depths of the castle.

The interior had changed little from what she remembered. Guards remained at their positions, servants still served, and tapestries depicting the rotating twin-alicorn flag still hung high on the walls.

However, the shouts and screams of infuriated nobles echoing down from the hall, were new.

The Wonderbolts surged forward, announcing her to the guards on either side of the massive purple doors that lead into the court. With a harried salute, the two unicorns telekinetically gripped the centre of the doors and pushed them open.

The throne room was in a state of utter pandemonium. Ponies from all tribes, Earth, Unicorn and Pegasus, verbally tore into one another with heartless abandon. Some were noble, some were common, but all were in utter disharmony.

A sickening pit weighed in Celestia's stomach, her muzzle twisted in indignation. Celestia unfurled her wings with a loud flick of feathers and wind. There was an echoing 'thump' as a pulse of golden energy spread throughout the room.

She stood high as everypony in the room stopped and slowly craned their head to her.

Celestia couldn't help but take a small amount of pleasure in seeing their eyes widen and their heads bow. She unflinching strode past them, directly to her throne.

Her throne was likewise as she remembered. It lay at the end of a long, red carpet, raised upon a gentle, stepless incline and ending into an oval chair fit for an alicorn. Once again, there was something new. Something even more unpleasant. The throne was currently occupied by somepony else.

Celestia's muzzle twitched in barely concealed ire.

The golden-coated unicorn sat up in her throne, turning away from directing a squad of Royal Guard. His smoothed-down, silver mane befit a unicorn of his stature. Dark brown eyes widened at Celestia's approach, immediately standing. The moment he did Celestia could spy his cutie mark, an open book with blank pages.

Celestia walked up the incline, stopping a yard away from him. "You're in my chair."

Noble Era immediately stood, stepped aside and respectfully gestured to her rightful place, all in one motion.

"Tis' an honour to see you again, your majesty," said Noble Era in a cultured Canterlot accent, his tone was infused with an effortless kindness. "I humbly abdicate the throne."

Celestia glared as she walked past. She turned and sat, gazing out to the circus that her court had become. She couldn't help but think on Noble's tone and his actions. She glanced down at the positions of the Royal Guards, they looked prepared to start to arrest the more… violent dissenters. Painful as it was to admit, she would have done the same in the event of such a riot.

"You are Noble Era?"

He nodded.

"Why did you take my throne?"

"A formality, your majesty," Noble Era said. "My line descended from the original line of unicorn monarchy before Equestria’s reformation. We have always been ready to take on your burden should... something unfortunate happen."

"Ah, thank you," Celestia frowned in confusion. "Wait, why did you just explain--"

"About succession?" Noble Era smiled. "Rumours travel at the speed of sound, m'lady. With all due respect, you've just confirmed your amnesia."

She could have heard a pin drop. Everypony in the room stared, twisting their ears towards them.

Celestia flushed in embarrssment. "Tis' true," said Celestia in a dark tone, "but that does not make me any less the rightful ruler of Equestria. Some monarchs might have thought that you were attempting to take the throne from them. That would be an… inadvisable course of action."

"Nothing of the sort, m'lady. We-- I have always seen you as my rightful ruler," Noble Era said, his voice softening. "Just look at what you've done. The Throneroom was in utter chaos, an you calmed it in an instant. It is you who should bear the Equestria's crown, not mortals such as I. Yet… even the divine can need help at times," Noble Era smiled warmly at her, bowing deeply. "Should you ever need such assistance, be it getting up-to-date on political matters, a messenger or perhaps even just a sympathetic ear to talk to, I would be honoured to help in these troubled times."

The noble unicorn bowed once more, stepping backwards. A second later, he turned and left down the red carpet, never flinching once.

Celestia knew that he was playing his own game. Any fool could tell that. Yet, despite herself, she couldn't help but feel intrigued concerning the nature of this 'Noble Era'.

Chapter 4: Equines & sugar

Author's Notes:

Normally I like to leave my story stand alone, but I know that there's going to be some confusion among readers with this chapter, mainly about pony sizes. For those having trouble visualizing, take a look at the following chart;
http://i3.kym-cdn.com/photos/images/original/000/533/757/4d4.png

Then take a look at the following scene;
http://mlp.wikia.com/wiki/File:A_Canterlot_street_S2E9.png

Gareth isn't having a fun time.

A boy, barely thirteen winters, sprinted across charcoal-black ground. A howl of snowflakes whipped past his face, chilling his skin, streaming down from a bone-white sky.

Men were screaming from behind him, their faces and features were obscured by a murky blackness.. They were trying to catch him, trying to stop him. They couldn't get to him fast enough, they had to pull back; it was too dangerous.

Far ahead, a tide of arrows showered down from the sky in front of a ceaseless row of archers. He knew the timing. He saw their nearly empty quivers as he rushed past.

He was too young to nock a bow, but he could still help.

He dashed out into the no-man's-land ahead. He ignored the shouts behind him. Arrows sprung from the ground like flowers, the multi-coloured fletching made it easy to reach for. He ripped them up, grabbing two, three at a time and stuffing them into his belt, fists, even his mouth.

He rushed back, screaming out arrow sizes. The archers grabbed them, patting him on the back and urging him out the line of fire. He wasn't to go back.

For once, he listened, running behind lines.

The boy doubled over, heaving, trying to get his wind back. He looked back to the line, seeing the archers advance, picking up more of the arrows just as he had.

A thick hand clapped on his shoulder. Father's comrades glared at him in both fury and relief.

Then he saw him, Lord Neville, Earl of Warwick, Father's master, staring at him.

The boy felt his back straighten as Lord Neville's pale face and dark eyes took him in. His curled, black hair and cleft chin were in stark contrast to his magnificently crafted full-plate. Lord Neville dismounted from his proud, milky white horse. The boy's heart leapt, whether for fear or anticipation, he could not say.

Lord Neville drew his sword, turned and in a single blow, sliced his horse's foreleg off. The creature whinnied in terror and pain, falling to the ground, ripping up grass and soil as it spasmed.

Neville turned to the army behind him, utterly fearless. He pointed to the dying horse and raised his blood-drenched sword. He dared any of them to flee in the face of the Lancasters, not when their comrade's orphan had shown such courage.

Lord Neville turned, nodding to him.

The boy grinned broadly. He turned and ran again. Father's comrades caught up with him. Only this time, they weren't trying to stop him, they were going with him. They glanced down, grinning. He couldn't help but smile back. His heart soared, his feet felt like they were hovering, flying over the field.

The Lancasters returned their charge, but they were ready.

The boy rushed into and out of the fray, grabbing arrows and avoiding the thick of combat. Back and forth, back and forth, each time more bodies, each time more arrows. He started laughing, death wasn't scary. He was too fast for it, too skilled. With Lord Neville and his men at his side, the boy was invincible.

Then, before he knew it, the battle was over. Bodies littered the field and the cowardly Lancasters had fled.

He'd never ran further and faster than he had in his entire life, he never felt more awake, more alive, than he had that day. The boy's grin grew wider. He knew it. He knew Father's sacrifice in Lord Neville's name wasn't in vain.

Lord Neville commanded him forward, his brow lined with sweat and his sword still soiled.

At the tired nobleman's command, the boy fell to one knee.

"For your valiance today, I dub thee, Sir Gareth Fletcher, landed knight of Warwick," Lord Neville said as his blade tapped him on either shoulder.

Gareth couldn't stop grinning, it took every ounce of self-control to not burst out in triumphant laughter.

Lord Neville pulled his sword up behind his head, both hands laying on the hilt. His expression turned psychotic.

"-and traitor to the crown."

With a single swing, Neville decapitated Gareth.

Gareth snorted awake.

The knight glanced about, suddenly feeling the sweat that had drenched his palms and forehead. He grasped at his throat, quickly confirming the obvious.

"A nightmare," Gareth groaned, "God's truth, it's been fifteen years and I still can't forget."

He sat up from his resting place, a bedroll stuffed into his pack by Father Clemens. Perhaps it was best that Clemens ignored him when Gareth said 'just the essentials'. Gareth certainly wouldn't have thought to pack it. Of course, for Clemens, 'essentials' also included a small wooden cross. Who knows, perhaps he'd need to slay a vampire as well?

Gareth wriggled out of the bedroll and reached for his waterskin. The cap came off with a pop, followed by a rush of the cool water over his face and beard.

Gareth looked about in the campsite he'd found; a small cave just south of his destination. He'd forgotten the name that Cecilia had called it, Canter-something? Frankly, it probably didn't matter all that much. He couldn't speak the natives’ language, maybe even attempting it was impossible. Given that they seemed to be magic creatures, he wondered exactly how much he had in common with such things even if he could voice it.

He stood, stretching, feeling his neck, arms and back popping. It was good to be out of that hauberk, even if he still found it best to keep the rest of his armour on for the sake of making it easier to carry. His feet still ached from the past three days of walking.

He glanced over to the forest just at the mouth of the cave, trying to see the castle through the thick leaves. There was no turning back now.

"Gar-eth," Styre grunted.

Gareth turned to the barded crea-… no, that wasn't right. Yet, he lacked a real name for Styre's breed. The nature of his traveling companion both beguiled and baffled him. Gareth suspected the feeling was mutual.

Styre stared at him. He always staring at him, not angry, not curious, just looking. Styre reminded him of Potestas in that way.

"Styre," Gareth returned.

The gamekeeper suspected that Styre didn't talk much, even among those he could speak with. While that suited him just fine in a man, to find that quality in an animal… the thought alone jarred him. Yet, there he was, spending the past three nights trying to mimic Styre's whinnies to varying degrees of success.

Styre stood from his own bedroll, beginning to re-armour without hands or thumbs.

How did he even do that?

Pulling a strap closed with his teeth, Styre gave his armour a quick pat down, then turned his attention to his bedroll, rolling it up with a dexterous combination of his snout and forehooves.

Simply amazing, especially for an animal. But what kind of animal? Was animal even the right term? Styre was clearly male and a well-built specimen, yet he stood barely nine hands (ten, if Gareth was being generous) at the withers. The breed was far too small to be a horse Gareth had never heard of a pony that. Yet Styre clearly wasn't a goat, sheep or lap dog; the smell was unmistakable as horse-like.

Finally, Styre loaded his bedroll onto a clip at the flank of his barding. He turned back to Gareth, cocking a querying brow.

Gareth flinched. Oh right, he ought to pack as well.

The castle on the horizon was beautiful from afar, the way it twinkled in the dawn, hinting at its true size. Only for it to strike you in the face as you stood before it.

Gareth's mouth flopped open, simply staring. This was 'Canterlot'.

It all looked so much like a child's toy made life-sized. Gold, white and purple colours swirled around tall spires and buildings. The entire settlement rested upon the edge of a cliff, like a tree, jutting out into sky as if to catch the day's light. Down from the mountainside flow a river, passing through and providing a natural moat.

Cecilia had not exaggerated Canterlot's sheer magnificence.

Yet, how did it protect it's inhabitants? There were natural defences from the castle and moats, but the battlements were pitiful. Ah, but wait, why wouldn't they be? What good were battlements to a society that could fly and use sorceries as naturally as breathing? Gareth couldn't imagine any human force that could take such a place from its occupants.

Then Gareth's jaw tightened. No, he knew exactly what would make this place fall within a few days. Cannons.

"Gar-eth!" Styre nickered at him, jerking his head to the long road ahead of them: it lead straight to the castle's drawbridge.

Unfortunately, it was covered by a veritable sea of 'ponies'. The crowd whinnied and jabbered to themselves. A few wooden islands in the shape of carts and wagons were utterly deadlocked, many ponies climbing atop them. The pressing of bodies reminded him of both battle and London's streets... and that one street-long barfight in London. Good times.

Styre shook his head before pulling his silver helmet back on and tapped the star plate on his chest. A white glamour covered his mane and coat.

Gareth tried to keep his distance from the blatant sorcery. He assumed that it was a kind of uniform, glancing at other like-coloured 'war-ponies' who were also trying to keep the peace.

Styre yelled something at a few war-pegasi. They saluted and started to help open the crowd for them. Styre turned back, gesturing for him to follow.

Gareth couldn't help but smile at that. Perhaps it was good that most of these ponies' withers only just came up past his knee. His comparatively long legs let him easily step through them, even as Styre did his best to clear a path.

Within ten minutes, Canterlot's portcullis passed overhead as Gareth and Styre stepped into Canterlot's marketplace.

Gareth's first impression, that Canterlot looked like an oversized play-set, proved to be far too accurate.

The tiled roofs of the buildings around him just barely peaked around head height while doorways hovered around his neck and shoulders. There wasn't a single entrance that he could see that he wouldn't need to stoop down for in order to step through. That wasn't the most galling thing, either. From the looks of things, the ponies actually built these doors almost in excess of twice their height at the withers. Were Gareth a woman or a child, it would almost be comfortable.

Gareth jolted as a pony barrelled into his legs, the fifth one that morning. He stepped aside, glaring at the blue mare as she shook her head in confusion.

Styre came to the rescue, presumably telling her off from his harsh tone. The mare looked up at Gareth, trying to focus on his face. She let out a sharp whinny of horror, turned and galloped in the opposite direction.

Styre looked up to Gareth apologetically.

Gareth pretended not to notice, pushing on forward.

A gurgling growl filled the air. Styre's eyes followed down to his gut.

A moment later, hunger pangs pitted in Gareth's stomach. He sighed. Of course. Gareth turned to Styre, patting his stomach. "Hungry."

Styre grinned, ushering Gareth to follow.

The smell was divine even from down the street. A bakery. It was still morning, wasn't it? That meant fresh baked bread.

Gareth smiled at the idea.

The building was humble in structure, yet extravagant in colour, with a doorway that was impossible to walk through without knocking a respectably-sized human, such as Gareth, unconscious. A thick wooden sign, easily the size of a pony, hung off the side of the door, depicting a steaming pie.

Styre was smiling, no, he was grinning. He couldn't wait to squeeze Gareth inside.

Gareth practically crouch-walked inside and, unfortunately, the building was no larger inside. It probally would have been cramped even if it were human-sized. Most of the interior consisted of a bakery. A roaring oven heated the whole room while rows-upon-rows of delectable-looking and sweet-smelling bread covered bread shelves. Unfortunate then that the customer area had only one small alley with a half-dozen stools and a bar to eat upon.

Styre pushed him through the stools, Gareth's knee guards coming in handy as he made his way to the back. Gareth cleared a few away and squatted on the ground, his knees coming up to the bar.

Styre walked forward, neighing loudly.

Banging and crashing metal filled the air as one of the shelves crashed to the ground, scattering pieces of bread across the floor.

Gareth's hand went to his dagger, eyes flicking about the room.

A figure stood amid the chaos. A pudgy mare in a ruffled white toque and apron planted a forehoof to her head. Well, Gareth presumed that she was pudgy; her grey-coated body certainly seemed a bit thicker than normal. A pink mane poked out of her hat, curling around in nearly all directions, hooking on the bottom of her toque as if it was swirled icing. She turned to them, round blue eyes blinking rapidly.

Gareth cocked his head to the side, yes; this one had a picture on her flank as well, a steaming pie, just like the sign. Cecilia called them 'Cutie Marks'. Gareth could only imagine the name sounded more eloquent in their native tongue. Presumably, this one was 'destined' to be a baker.

Gareth didn't want to know what his Cutie Mark would be.

The mare's eyes darted to Styre, her face slowly shifted from soreness to a gentle joy. She shuffled over to him, smiling nearly vacantly as Styre met her half-way. She nickered something in his ear as they embraced, rubbing their snouts together.

Gareth missed Cecilia.

Then the baker turned to him. Her eyes latched onto his.

Gareth twisted in place, glancing beside himself. He looked back and she was still staring.

No, she was looking straight at him, it wasn't an accident. Strye mumbled something to her, waving a forehoof in his direction, "Gar-eth Flaeetcher."

She nodded, only half listening.

Styre sighed, looking to Gareth. He pointed to himself, "Styre," he said, then pointed to her, "Glosh Spige."

Gareth could only nod, presuming he was trying to tell him her name.

'Glosh Spige' moved to the kitchen, never breaking eye contact from Gareth. She moved to one of the ovens, actively twisting her body to ensure she never looked away. Her motions switched between moving like cold custard to snapping like a taut bowstring. She finally pulled out a tray of pies and walked over to the bar.

Pulling one out and placing it on a clay plate, 'Glosh' let the pastry and the plate clatter onto the bar in front of him. The intoxicating smell of fresh baked goods filling his nostrils. She grinned, shuffling back, still staring. Ducking below, she opened a shelf and pulling out another tray; this time of what Gareth assumed was butter.

She trotted back, the butter tray landed on the bar next to the pie.

Styre trotted up beside Gareth, licking his lips and looking eager to make a start on lunch.

'Glosh' held a halting forehoof up to Gareth, pointing down to the tray of butter. "Glosh," she said, then turned to the pie, "Spige."

Gareth frowned, looking closer.

She repeated herself, "Glosh. Spige".

What was she...? Gareth pointed towards the butter, "Glosh?" Then the pie "Spige?"

"Glosh Spige!" she said, pointing to herself.

Butter Pie. Her name was Butter Pie. They named themselves after objects.

She pushed the pie closer to Gareth. From the look on her face, she clearly wanted him to eat it.

Gareth sighed, noticing the distinct lack of implements. He dug around his pack, fishing out a set of silver utensils. Yet more gifts from Father Clemens. He cut himself a slice and silently took a bite.

That taste; that beautiful, perfect, sweetness. Gareth's eyes widened. "Sugar," he mumbled as the dish touched his lips.

He looked about the store as it slowly dawned on him. Styre must have taken him to a high-class bakery in Canterlot, because almost half of the goods in here were covered in sugar!

He pointed a shaking finger down at the dish. Giving Butter Pie a concerned expression. Was it really okay for him to...?

She nodded early, nudging the plate closer.

Gareth scarfed down the rest as if he was dying of hunger. Upon swallowing the last bite, he found himself doubling Butter Pie's demure smile.

Yet, it was all over too soon. Looking down at the empty crumbs on his plate, he felt his stomach gurgle once more.

Damn it, he wanted more. Hunger overriding politeness, Gareth leaned over, smiling apologetically and holding the empty plate out to her.

"Spige?" She asked.

"Spige!"

An hour later, Gareth and Styre practically rolled out of Butter Pie's Bakery.

"Gareth!" said Celestia, trotting towards him.

Her husband stuck out like a sore thumb in Canterlot Castle's halls. His white and grey armour clashed against the decor even as he glanced about it nervously. His hard brown eyes locked with hers, quickly softening in relief.

"Cecilia," Gareth sighed, walked towards and pulling her head into his strong chest. He smelled of the road and… baked goods? Celestia craned her head up, sniffing his mouth.

"Is that… butter pie on your breath?"

"'Glosh Spige'? Yes," Gareth grinning and brushing flakes out of the bristles around his mouth. "Why didn't you tell me that there was a bakery that had sugar in nearly everything that it sold?"

Celestia blinked, he was already learning the local language.

"I... take it the trip went well then?" Celestia asked, suddenly worried.

Gareth shrugged. "It was only a few days, love. Besides, Styre proved to be good company. I'm not sure what his position is, but I'd like it if I could have him as a squire," he said.

"Really? Come, Gareth, let's walk and talk," Celestia said, gesturing him to follow. "I'm afraid that won't be possible though, things are different here. The military and the nobility are distinct."

"What?" Gareth frowned. "Then what does the military do when it's not on campaign? Surely you don't let them ravage the countryside!"

"Goodness, no!" Celestia chuckled for a moment, before schooling her features. "No, they are well paid, so there's no need for them to pillage or loot. What's more, Equestria is a dangerous place, and they are always on alert from attack from monsters. That is the role of the E.U.P."

Celestia lead him into the doctor's office, a picture of a red cross hung over the doorway. Gareth stooped, almost out of habit, but that was hardly required with the grand doors around the castle. Even this relatively unimportant door reached just over a foot above him.

Inside was an empty, spartan bed.... which just happened to be surrounded by a platoon of unicorns in nurse's habits and black doctor's uniforms. They turned at once to Celestia, nodding respectfully to her. Then they tried to look at Gareth, only succeeding at blinking owlishly.

Gareth cocked a brow at Celestia.

She lowered lowered her head sheepishly. "Gareth, ponies all around the kingdom are having trouble looking at you, everyone except me that is. We need to find out why, it could be dangerous if we don't," Celestia said, still unconsciously shrinking under Gareth's glare.

Gareth's glare switched to towards the doctors. He clicked his tongue, mouth curling in distaste.

"I hate doctors," he growled in frustration, beginning to strip down to the waist.

Doctor Il Legittima Legata telekinetically pulled her formerly cold stethoscope away from Gareth's scarred, muscular chest.

The white unicorn nodded, stuffing the stethoscope back into the bag.

"Princess Celestia?" The pink-eyed doctor said, turning to her liege, "I believe that my colleagues are correct; 'Gar-eth', medically speaking, is clinically dead. Not even inanimate objects have the utter absence of magic that he does. The items brought with him are even worse. They seem to actually block magic to a degree.

"As you know, ponies see the world using a combination of both light and magic. Having such a being lack magic to such a degree means that he is obscured from our senses. Our eyes sense that there is something there, but our hearts tell us that there is not. I therefore hypothesise that ponies with an emotional connection to him are able to ignore that."

"Is she talking science?" Gareth muttered. "She's talking science, isn't she."

"Gareth, shush!" Celestia hissed.

"Still," the doctor glanced back to Gareth's gut, "he does have a trace amount of magic… in his digestive tract. That energy is slowly beginning to spread throughout his body. I believe that as he eats more of the local food, he will slowly begin to retain more of it. Whether he becomes as magical as a living creature or an inanimate chair is hard to tell at this point. All in all, I can only suggest that he keeps eating Equestrian food."

"I see, thank you Doctor Legata," Celestia nodded, soaking in every word. She turned to her husband, switching to English, "Gareth? They want you to keep eating Equestrian food."

Gareth gave the doctor a withering glare. "Oh damn, I was hoping to keep eating from my infinite sack of trail rations!"

"He-- uh-- says that he understands," Celestia nervously translated.

Doctor Legata nodded, not believing her in the slightest.

The sun dipped down over the horizon.

Gareth's feet ached, Cecilia's throat was sore; they were tired.

One of the war-ponies had lead Gareth towards the end of a long staircase, leading to a large pair of double doors. Gareth recognised it as the grand spire he saw from Cecilia's Castle. It was the furthest peak of the castle, stretching far out away from the mountain. He wasn't particularly afraid of that fact, the castle's construction looked sturdy enough, but Cecilia was out of luck if she thought she was going to entice him onto the balcony any time this decade.

Gareth heard Cecilia yawn from behind him. She ducked her head underneath his arm, pressing herself up against his side. He smiled weakly, hugging her back.

It was bedtime.

Gareth pushed the double doors open with one hand. The room on the other side looked almost identical to the one in the forest. Moreover, yes, the bed most certainly was just as big.

He sighed, pulling his bag off his shoulders and laying it by the door. For the second time that day, he'd need to take off his armour. Well, mish-mash as it was, there wasn't all that much to get rid of at this point.

Celestia strolled past, smiling at Gareth as she haggardly moved over to the bed. She flopped down on it, multi-coloured hair splaying out on the sheets. She turned in place, smiling invitingly at him as her ears turned to him, and her ethereal tail waved around in the breezeless room.

Suddenly the smell of horse stuck in Gareth's nose. His eyes widened, the breath in his lungs froze. It was coming from her, his wife. Was… there wasn't any other beds were there? He was going to need to-- need to lie down with...

Gareth could feel beads of sweat rolling down the sides of his face. He slowly walked across the room, unable to look at the animal laying in the middle of the bed. He sat down, looking away from it.

The white horse behind him shifted in place.

"What's wrong Gareth?" It said in his wife's voice. "Did you need to go to the bathroom?"

Gareth felt sick to the stomach, his felt his mouth move on his own. "Is-- are there any other quarters I can sleep in?"

"…What?"

Gareth stood rigidly. He strode across the room, one hand grabbing the strap of his backpack and the other grabbing the doorway.

"Cecilia, I-- sorry, I reek," Gareth said. It sounded pathetic to even his own ears. "I know you never liked it when I came to bed like this before, I can't imagine it changed now. I think... I need to bath for three hours or something. I-I'll find someplace else to sleep in the meantime."

"Oh," the white horse said, sadly glancing to the empty space in the bed, "it-it's okay Gareth, the servants can clean the sheets. I'm sure they would understand."

"I said, no!" Gareth growl through grit teeth, he didn’t need to look at her to see her flinch at his tone. "Good.... goodnight Cecilia. I'll see you in the morning."

Gareth walked through the doorway. He spared a glance over his shoulder as he walked down the stairwell.

That was all he needed to see the confused and heart-broken expression on his wife's face.

Gareth stepped out onto the fresh, moist grass. Canterlot Castle's courtyard didn't look all that different from the one in the forest, with the exception that this one was well-maintained and the other was… well, wild.

Gareth ignored the gaze of a guard, which predictably slipped right off of him. Cecilia tried to explain it as him not having any--

No, he did not want to think about that right now. Not magic, not Cecilia, and certainly not what he just did. He just wanted to sleep.

Gareth kneeled at the foot of a particularly well-covered tree. He looked up at the leaves, tugging a few branches. Yes, this one looked like good cover.

He unfurled his bedroll, climbed in and snuggling up to the base of the tree.

He found trying to ignore the night's chill a preferable barb than trying to ignore his failure as a husband.

Chapter 5: Cake & courts

Gareth awoke warmer than he remembered falling to sleep.

He groaned, sitting up, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he pressed his back against the tree. Last night was freezing, had it really warmed up that much? Gareth looked down. Ah, of course.

A mass of quilted blankets smothered him like a pack of tired dogs. In the corner of one was a stitched emblem of two alicorns.

How did these creatures manage to handle something as fine as a pin and thread without hands?

"Gar-eth!" A feminine voice squeaked from between the trees.

Gareth glanced to the left.

A white-coated unicorn trotted forward. Female, he believed, with a braided red mane that wrapped around her head and ears. She was dressed in a gown that might have been seen on a human lady-in-waiting, only as worn by a horse with its forelegs through the sleeves.

Gareth was not sure how he felt about that. On one hand, there was something vaguely insulting about ponies wearing clothing so much like theirs. On the other hand, he also found it hilarious.

"Gar-eth? Cecilia rast ju-," and that was as far as Gareth understood before the mare descended into a long, blathering spiel as she walked towards him.

Good God their eyes were huge. When he was standing it didn't seem so bad, but now that he was down here at eye level he couldn’t avoid it. The mare's eyes were easily the size of his out-stretched hand, fingers and all! How did they survive a stiff, dusty breeze?

Gareth unconsciously, pushed back into the tree's unyielding trunk. One hand pulled up a rainbow-coloured blanket as though it was a shield, silently begging her to realise that she was deeply unnerving him. Trust was something that he had in short supply.

Suddenly the mare froze, staring off into the distance. She laughed to herself and looked to her gown. Her horn glowed a crimson light, humming with an unnatural tune. The white unicorn's sorceries pulled something from the folds of her dress. It was a letter.

She crooned a few more words before laying it on his lap, respectfully stepping back.

Meanwhile, Gareth silently returned his dagger to its sheath. He glanced down at the letter.

The red wax seal bore Uncle's signet ring.

"Uncle!" Gareth scrambled to pry it open; the letter folded out.

To Sir Gareth Fletcher be this letter delivered.

Gareth, when you first came to my courts, my brother dead and you abandoned by your birthmother, you came fresh with the distinction of being a warrior. What I saw as courage was in fact a darkness festering within you. Ten years later, at Barnet, when you were knighted, I saw that darkness smothered. I thought that you were beginning to change for the better, healing on your own, but I was wrong. Alone, you were growing worse. I tried to fight it by making you my gamekeeper. Perhaps that may have helped, but not as much as Cecilia did.

Gareth, she changed you. I believe that she changed all of us in some way. To know that you found her, but cannot return to us, is truly bittersweet news. I and all of the folk of Rockingham castle will bitterly miss you both. Father Clemens seemed particularly affected, we heard him wailing in his study; whether from grief or holy gratitude I cannot say.

I know how much duty means to you, and hence, I wish to allay your conscience; I formally grant you my blessing to remain with Cecilia. I understand your actions and I release you from your duties.

May you go with God's grace, Christ's mercy and Paul's humility.

The letter felt like a punch in Gareth's gut. He let it flitter to his lap, his head lolling back and staring up at the treeline above.

This was it. This wasn't some new trek to the edges of Scotland in the search of bandits and easy coin, this was another world. He'd turned his back on his duties and he got what he asked for. This was his life now.

Father… Gareth found it hard to remember his face now. Father was so long ago. Some of Gareth’s earliest memories was him trying so hard to get off Mother's farm, to get Father to train him in the ways of the bow. Father wouldn't have any of it, no, 'go back to Mother's farm. Learn about the animals, play with the animals, you'll learn to love farming.'

Gareth grimaced. Of course, Mother never could love a bastard-child like him.

The unicorn murmured something, swaying side to side.

"Huh?" Gareth grunted.

She twitched, trying to stand up straight. A apologetic expression came to her face. Those bags under her… rather large eyes would have indicated a lack of sleep or sickness on a human. He didn't notice those before. She tried to stifle a yawn, eye twitching.

Gareth resisted a yawn of his own and pulling himself out of his cocoon wrought of blankets.

She looked up at him, confused. He gently tugged her into his bed, ignoring her half-hearted protests. After a few moments of getting her legs right, she slid straight in.

He pulled the tops of the blanket over, firmly tucking her in, taking a seat next to her, gently stroking her braided mane.

Within a minute, she was asleep, chest slowly rising and falling.

Gareth nodded to himself, satisfied. Truth be told, the mare didn’t smell too much of horse; more rich perfumes and soaps. He would still need to wash his bedroll later.

"Alright, now, what to do for the day?" Gareth whispered under his breath. He felt a gnawing in his stomach. "Bah, I'll go break my fast at Glosh Spiges', then I'll think."

Cecilia's eyes fluttered open, beholding a sideways view of her sunlit balcony.

She sighed, turning over in bed. Gareth had not awoken her yet. She snuggled into the warm pillows, spreading herself out in his absence. There was no reason to leave the seductive warmth of her bed ye- wait, sunlit balcony?

Celestia's eyes snapped open. She sat up, swan-like neck craning around her. Once again, her bed was empty. The events of last night played back like a nightmare in reverse, worsening as she remembered every detail.

Gareth was starting to acclimatise to her true form. A few days ago when she lost control and tried, what she realised was trying to groom his beard, he reacted... poorly. When she met him again yesterday he seemed to be back to his old self. Naively, she thought that he'd made strides, but-.

Celestia shook her head. She couldn't dwell on this. Her husband was an issue for another time. What was an issue was that nobod-… nopony, had come to wake her. The sun had been risen without her efforts. Wait-- she raised the sun? Ah yes, of course she raised the sun.

Celestia sighed, massaging her temples with her forehooves. She was hungry, so thinking was momentarily set aside; the sooner she ate, the better.

Celestia swiftly prepared for the day, walking downstairs alone. She had become used to the frequently unseen, yet slavish, efforts of Gleaming Horizon. The past few days were made almost tolerable with her endless enthusiasm and eagerness to please. Now Celestia wondered where in Equestria the young mare had gone to.

Celestia stepped into Canterlot's Royal Dining Hall. Within moments, butlers and servants lined up on either side like soldiers on show.

She suppressed the urge to sigh. Memories flicked in the back of her mind. This was normal, but that didn't mean she had to like it. Still, these were stallions and mares trained for ceremony - training that she approved if she recalled - the least she could do was show respect.

Celestia took her seat, allowing them to set the table and wrap a kerchief around her neck. Her breakfast's steaming scent filled her nose; muesli and oats with a side dish of hay, daffodils and a carafe of wine.

The only thing she craved right now was a nice, greasy, omelette and a tall mug of mead. Gareth would smile as he served it, encouraging her to take a bite. Human food was so similar but yet so strange, so warm. It felt wrong without-- no, just eat.

She rose her forehooves to grasp pick up her knifes and forks... of which there weren't any.

A bulter gave her a concerned, querying look.

Celestia's cheeks burned, giving a nervous smile, as she mentally held her hooves down and willed herself to commence eating just with her mouth.

She could already hear Gareth pulling his hair out in frustration. It took a long time to learn to use utensils.

"Ma'am?" A cultured, female Canterlot accent said off to her side.

"Bwat?" Celestia responded, her mouth full of sugar-coated hay.

The unicorn butler flinched back at the sight. Her horn glowed yellow as she held up a scroll, unfurling with a flick.

The butler cleared her throat, saying, "Ma'am, your itinerary for the day. After your morning meal you'll be expected to--"

Celestia's eyes glazed over. Every morning had been the same thing. A dizzying array of names to meet and places to go. Everypony in Equestria wanted to see her right now. She even caught wind of a mass of ponies that had arrived in Canterlot a few days ago, eager to catch a glimpse of her. None of this was foreign to her, and she couldn't remember disliking meeting her own subjects... what had changed in that time?

The names continued and Celestia forced herself to pay attention. Hopefully all the chauffeuring would stop within a few days; she had actual leading to do once all the important ponies had kissed her forehoof and unjustly sang her praises. If only she could get them to send her a representative each. That would certainly lower the amount of faces and names she needed to memorise. For example, what in Equestria was a 'Diamond Dog'?

"-do you allow it, princess Celestia?" The butler asked.

"Bwah?" Celestia twitched, accidentally banging a forehoof across the table top. "U-uh, yes, full summit at four, dinner at five," Celestia mumbled through another chunk of breakfast.

"Uh, no, not that, ma'am," the unicorn said, gesturing to the doors at the opposite end of the hall, "Noble Era requests entry to the dining room. Do you allow it?"

Celestia paused. Ah, yes... the throne-warmer. Honestly, she had little time to pay him any mind since she'd last encountered him. Perhaps unwise she realized, given that particularly bad impression she'd gotten of him. She'd barely had any time for her own husband let alone strange unicorns.

"Yes, allow him entry," said Celestia, finishing chewing.

Within moments, she heard the overly large double doors swing open. A guard announced Noble Era as he trotted in, golden coat and silver mane practically glittering. His brown eyes spotted her immediately and he smiled in relief.

Celestia didn't return it, continuing her meal heedlessly. Best not to get his hopes up. Gareth had warned her about people like Noble Era, vicious social climbers that hid a blade behind their smiles. She didn't remember ponies acting in such a way here in Equestria, but who knows how things might have changed in the intervening years?

Noble Era trotted the length of the long dining table, standing just over to her left. "Princess Celestia," he said, lowering his head, looking up at her through sad eyes, "I wish to deeply apologise for my behaviour upon your arrival a few days ago. My tone was unprofessional and disrespectful. On the matter of my… physical position, I meant no disrespect; t'was my intention to lessen your burden--"

"Apology accepted," said Celestia, sipping her wine. "You are dismissed."

Noble Era flinched as though she'd slapped him. He opened his mouth, as if to challenge her, but quickly closed it. After a few moments, he slowly nodded, turning and trotted away, hanging his head.

Celestia felt a pang of guilt. She mentally sighed; this was stupid. Even if he was a social climber, he had feelings.

"Wait," said Celestia, holding her forehoof up. "You offered information to me before. I will take it. However, you will do as I say, when I say. Is that understood?"

Noble Era whipped around, his face brightening.

"Of course m'lady!" He said, smiling broadly. "How may I help?"

Celestia kept her poker face in check, saying, "I want one representative from each of the pony tribes. One for the Unicorns, one for the Pegasi and one for the Earth Ponies. If you want to help me, you will gather them for me."

"A simple task," Noble Era said with a cocky tone, "With respect m'lady, the Equestrians were already beginning to factionalize."

Celestia allowed herself to grin darkly. "Very good," She crooned, "Then I expect them to be gathered in my court by the end of the day."

Noble Era's eyes widened and his face paled.

"Should you fail in such a 'simple task',” Celestia continued in a suddenly steely tone. “I'll ensure that you're permanently barred from Canterlot's court. I'd advise you that you pick wisely as well, because if one of them does something... illegal, both you and they will be exiled from Canterlot."

"I--," Noble Era spluttered. His paling face settled into an expression of grim determination. "V-very good, m'lady. You'll have the leaders you requested."

"Good, you are dismissed," said Celestia, casually waving him off.

The pangs of guilt grew worse, both at actually enjoying that ruthless display of power as well as watching Noble Era trot away with a crushed look on his face. It wasn't right to have to treat anypony like that, but if Equestria was to have peace then she needed to stablise it.

That's what Gareth's books on English courts said. 'Crush dissent or you will have war.'

Her meal plate was empty, and although her stomach was full, she still felt empty. This was went Gareth's hand would have come by, picking up her plate, brushing a finger across her cheek.

...what was Gareth was eating right now?

Styre munched into the spinach and cheese pie, licking the crumbs away from the corners of his mouth. He looked over to the scene unfolding in front of him.

"Car-rot Caeke?" Gareth said in halting Equestrian.

"Yes." Butter Pie said in a calm, feminine monotone.

"I eat Car-rot Caeke?"

"Yes!"

Gareth grinned, grabbing a plate and sitting himself down on the floor. His long, pillar-like legs folded themselves, placing the plate atop them while pulling a pair of utensils out of his pocket. Within moments he went about eating with a wide-eyed gusto.

"I bet you're loving this, Butter," said Styre, idling taking another bite.

"Yes," said Butter Pie, smiling over at him, "he reminds me of you when you first came here with Red Streak. You were starving and dirt poor."

Styre frowned, nodding slowly, "Yeah… and he came up with the bright idea of paying for it by advertising. Personally, I still think you got ripped off if you needed a muscular pair of identical twins, Earth Ponies no less, to advertise to a pack of angry, snooty nobles."

Butter pie trotted over, placing a forehoof onto his. "Well, we've got a noble in here right now. I would say that Red Streak’s idea was brilliant. He was always a smart stallion, just like you," she said, her voice warming.

Styre looked back, grimacing. He had already mourned for Red Streak a year ago. He refused to cry now.

"Butter Pie?" Said Gareth, looking up from an empty plate.

"Still hungry?" Butter Pie said, rubbing her stomach for emphasis. Gareth shook his head.

"No. Thank you. I would like cake. Very big cake," he said with a serious look in his eye.

Butter Pie glanced to Styre, who shrugged smugly.

"Uh," Butter Pie looked back, smiling apologetically. "I'm sorry but I cannot give you any more. I have to leave some for my customers."

Gareth blinked, tilting his head in confusion. He suddenly shook his head, standing, doubling his height. The human tromped over to the middle of the bakery, wheeling away a shelf and placing the plate down on the ground. He began to trace around it.

Styre's ears folded back. Good grief, Gareth wanted a cake the size of a dinner table! Perhaps bringing him here was a mistake after all.

"I would like cake. I would like Celestia-cake," Gareth said. He pointed in the direction of the castle.

"Wait… cake FOR Celestia?"

"Yes!" Gareth grinned, bouncing in place. "I would like for Celestia!"

"A cake that big?" Styre said, looking to Butter Pie, "That would be too darn expensive! I can't believe he's got the stones to ask you this when he's been having so much of a free-ride as it is! Moreover, how in the wide-wide-world of Equestria would you cook the darn thing? Or how would you get it up to the Castle?"

Butter Pie frowned for a moment, before a small smile began to spread over her face. "Well, it is for Princess Celestia, I think I can cook it in my broad oven, and as for transportation," she turned to him with a meaningful look in her almost vacant eyes, "I've got an idea."

Styre frowned.

Celestia rested back upon her rightful throne. She gestured away the pair of angry free-farmers, banishing the details of their border arguments from her mind. Their argument about three feet of land had just wasted two hours, five minutes and thirty-one point five eight seconds of her day. Every now and again Celestia cursed her perfect sense of time.

Speaking of which, she noticed that the day was crawling on, getting close to the end of court, actually. Noble Era had not yet arrived and if he was, then he would have sent a herald to announce it. Perhaps he simply couldn't bare the shame to admit defeat?

She sighed in relief, well, at least she'd not have to see--

Three stallions walked through the open doors of her court.

Celestia's eyes widened, sitting up. No, that was impossible. Yet there he was, Noble Era as one of the stallions. She recognised an extremely uncomfortable-looking Colonel Purple Dart and another, rather pompously dressed, male Earth pony stallion in a top hat and leather jacket and a scarred face.

Celestia's frown grew deeper.

The three approached the edge of her throne. Noble Era stepped forward, bowing once before clearing his throat.

"M'la- uh, Princess Celestia," Noble Era said, throwing a forehoof out to the two stallions to his left. "As requested, I have scouted out three representatives of the Equestrian Tribes."

Noble Era gestured Colonel Purple Dart forward. Outfitted in his military dress-blues, the old stallion's moustache swished as he eyed Noble Era with deep distrust.

"Cloudsdale put forward myself, Colonel Purple Dart, as her representative," he said, turning to Celestia and saluting sharply.

"I accept," Celestia said, smiling at him, "good to see you here, Colonel."

Noble Era trotted forward, bowing again. "The universities put forward myself, Baron Noble Era, as their representative," the unicorn said.

"I see," Celestia deadpanned. "How convenient. Provided this is backed up, I will accept your representation." She would be keeping a close eye on him.

"Alright, now that bollocks is out of the way," the top hat wearing earth pony stepped past Noble Era. His red-orange coat looked unbrushed and his black mane had been slicked down his head and neck. His attire was hap-hazard, wearing a leather jacket, obviously mouth stitched from leather-tree sap, and a cheap black top hat. After a few moments of staring, it was clear to see that it wasn't that his coat was unbrushed, it was that half of it wasn't there. The faded pink burn scars covered almost half of his face and neck, trailing down, and likely past, the collar of his leather coat.

Celestia glared down at him and he looked back with a toothy smirk.

"Top of the mornin' to ya' Princess, the Unicorn Range Free-settlers put forth Mr. Chucky Larms," he said in a thick, Limerick accent.

Celestia blinked. She tried hard not to equate his accent with that of an Irishman. Even in Equestrian, they seemed to be strikingly similar.

"Very well, I accept," Celestia said. "Now, allow me to begin, I wish to reiterate my statement upon entrance to the throne; Equestria is back under my control. I require your assistance in ensuring that peace returns to our country and Equestria's unrest is quelled."

Colonel Purple Dart and Noble Era nodded in agreement. Chucky Larms did not.

"Uh not, quite Princess," Chucky Larms said, jolly domenior melting away. "Ya' see, we're our tribe's representatives, not your trained monkeys. The way I see it, you need to convince US that you're the right thing for Equestria. Not the other way around."

A chill swept throughout the courtroom. In unison, every eye and head turned towards the top-hatted Earth pony. Noble Era gave a sagging sigh, pressing a hoof to his forehead.

Celestia willed herself not to throw the puffed-up earth pony around like a ragdoll. She regretted the hasty decision of recognising his position: now she couldn't get rid of him.

"I hope you can explain your reasoning, Mr. 'Charms'," said Celestia in a tone struggling to be polite.

"Mr. Chucky Larms," he retorted. "Yeah, abandoning us fer two years? Ain't filling me with confidence, Princess. Alicorns don't just 'go away'. You needed the Elements of Harmony just to banish Nightmare Moon and last time I checked, ain't no pony did that to you!"

"My... sojourn was a mistake, Mr. Larms. I've not given up anything."

"'Sojourn' is it? Yeah, that's right the right word for it. You went away on yer own, so what's to stop you from going again, huh? Maybe you're sick of being a leader? Had your little holiday and you've decided to give it another crack? Ponies NEED stability, princess, and if you ain't willing, or able, to provide it then maybe Equestria should be a federation instead! A new office for all three of the tribes!" He raised his forehooves up, glancing around the room. A hundred horrified faces stared back. "Vote 'Larms for Governor of the Free Ranges!"

Celestia had slammed her forehoof into the base of her throne.

An echoing crack vibrated through the room. Hushed silence followed.

She glared down at Chucky Larms with all the harshness of the noon sun. "MR. Larms," Celestia said, eyes blazing, "I have never allowed Equestria to fracture, and for good reason. This line of discussion is off the table and any more attempts to hijack these talks and I'll have you detained for contempt of court. Am I understood?"

Larms looked back, smirking unrepentantly. "Crystal clear, m'lady," he said in a silted mockery of Noble Era's canterlot accent.

"Cecilia!" Celestia's ears perked up as she heard Gareth's voice travel across the courts.

Celestia's heart leapt as she saw him, standing in the entrance, grinning broadly and waving his arms at her. He was not wearing any of his weapons or equipment, but at this moment, he could not look more heroic if he was dressed head-to-toe in embossed full-plate. She silently begged him to save her from this insanity.

Then Gareth stepped aside, a pair of earth ponies following in his wake. One was a pudgy mare with a grey coat and bouncing, curly pink hair. The other was Private Styre, off duty if his red coat and black mane meant anything, and… he was currently lashed to an overburdened wooden cart; a cart filled to the brim with sugar coated pastries.

Even from this distance she could see the 5-foot wide, circular cake that took up the centre of the square cart. The surroundings were haphazardly filled in with all manners of baked foods from muffins to doughnuts to silver loafs to iced buns. No wonder Gareth was nowhere to be found, he was probably eating himself stupid at this bakery!

All three of them strode down the centre of the court, heedless of the rather baffled guards that looked caught between wanting to stop them and wanting a cupcake. The smell of fresh-baked goods wafted over the perfume and incense choked air.

Celestia became painfully aware of how long it had been since she’d last eaten.

While Gareth and Styre strolled straight down the middle, the mare broke off and started to dart about the room. She rolled and zipped around, handing out pamphlets to any stunned noble pony that would accept. Sometimes she wasn't even that discerning, stuffing it between their ears, under their coats and hats. Chuck Larms got three straight up his jacket sleeves.

Gareth walked past all three of the representatives, walking half-way up to her throne. He went to one knee, respectfully inclining his head before presenting the cake as Styre heaved it into place.

"I don't think that anyone really celebrated your return Cecilia," Gareth spoke in English with a gentle smile, "so, I thought I'd do it for them. Of course, I couldn't do it alone." He turned around, pointing palm-up to Styre (who was still huffing and sweating) and Butter Pie (who was busy stoically ramming a pamphlet into Noble Era's face).

Celestia blinked, gaze flicking from him to the cake. The cake was covered in a milky-white icing with a multitude of cherries, her favourite. A text spelt out in pink frosting formed, in Equestrian, the words 'Welcome Bak Celestia'.

She couldn't help it. Celestia's face twitched, her poker face shattered as she burst out laughing.

After ten seconds, half of the court had joined her. Nearly everypony in the hall was in stitches and she just couldn't compose herself. Each time Celestia looked at Gareth and the cake, she just started again, which got the dignitaries laughing again, and that just continued the whole vicious cycle.

Gareth blushed, chuckling himself. He cut Celestia the first slice.

Needless to say, the day's court was cancelled. Nopony could keep a straight face after this. Celestia's final order for the day was for everypony to get themselves a slice before returning to their homes.

And within that hour Celestia got more work done than she had for the whole day. The ponies approached her far more casually when she was munching on éclairs. Everypony was scared, she understood that, she was scared too if she was honest.

The only thing that ponies wanted right now was reassurance and peace. She wanted that too.

Styre and young miss 'Butter Pie' - Gareth's mystery baker - found themselves the centre of attention. Noble ponies complimented them on the quality of the baked goods, taking several of her pamphlets either for the address or for their own family members. The cart was cleared out within ten minutes, leaving Celestia no choice but to open the kitchens and start an impromptu feast.

Yet, all the while, she saw Gareth standing off to the side of the court 'supporting the wall' as he called it. He smiled up at her, occasionally snatching a glass of wine or nibbling on some cake.

Celestia never once saw somepony approach him. Whether intentionally, accidentally or a mixture of both, as far as the courts were concerned… Gareth didn't exist.

Chapter 6: Fear & compromise

Gareth stood at the edge of the Castle's courtyard, barely illuminated by the day's dying light.

Canterlot sprawled below, the distant fields of Equestria spread out like a green carpet. Tomorrow would mark the eighth day since Cecilia’s initial disappearance, and Gareth’s seventh day in Equestria.

Cecilia loved watching the sunset and the sunrise. She'd snuggled up to him, reach over to the distant horizon and clench it in her hand. Just as it'd tip over the horizon, she'd plunge it over as though she could still control it.

Would he ever get to experience that again?

Gareth sighed. He excused himself from the feast after a time; he was never one for social gatherings, no matter how Uncle tried to get him involved. Gareth lived his childhood on a farm. He never stayed in one place too long after Mother abandoned him. As a knight-errant, he and his men-at-arms preferred cheap beer and easy wenches to fine wines and court politics; even in Rockingham he preferred a humble abode to a place in the castle. Now all that social avoidance was coming to bite him in the arse.

A waft of smoked fish filled Gareth's nose. That was a smell he had not encountered in a while.

Heavy hooves trotted form behind; Cecilia's hooves. Gareth turned.

"Hungry, Gareth?" Cecilia said, holding up a sizeable bag of food with her golden magic. Cecilia looked like she had managed to escape the courts rather unscathed.

"Yes, please," said Gareth, smiling. "I barely ate anything."

Celestia set up their humble dinner on a table in one of the outdoor gazebos. The spread of food was delectable—she would know, she had spent over a year getting to know her husband's tastes, particularly his well-known sweet tooth. Eating was always a time when they did their best talking. It helped with digestion, Father Clemens claimed.

Gareth looked far more interested in eating than actually talking, unfortunately.

Rather than join him in eating, Celestia found herself staring at him. The small magical light that she'd cast just above the table softly lit his face. The light glinted off Gareth's silver utensils as he systematically annihilated his meal. She smiled as she spotted that yes, his left arm was still slightly longer than the other was. The disfigurement was the sign of an Archer, and a testament to his strength and finesse.

He wasn't attracted to her anymore. That hurt. He tried to hide it... but... it wasn' enough for her. Gareth was still every bit the ruggedly handsome man she remembered. Even when living rough he took care of himself, trimming his blonde beard and hair. He bathed daily, washed his clothes, but he never lost that heady scent of wood and leather that was ingrained into him. Celestia stopped herself from sniffing too deeply.

He was tormented, from the way his eyes twitched to the side, to how he lowered his head just a little closer to his meal. He wanted to fix everything so badly, but just didn't know how yet. That was what Cecilia admired of him the most; Gareth may admit defeat but he never gave up.

"How are you adjusting?" Celestia said.

Gareth flinched, metal utensils scraping together.

"S-slowly," he said, nervously brushing his lips and laying down his knife and fork. "You?"

"Slowly."

Gareth nodded at Celestia's response, grimacing in sympathy.

"You know, it's going to get quite chilly tonight," said Celestia, placing a forehoof on his wrist. "My offer to drag another bed into my quarters is still open."

He looking away, saying nothing.

"Gareth," Celestia felt a hitch in her throat. "Nothing is going... nothing has to happen. I miss you," her forehoof moved to his cheek, slowly turning him back to her. "Please, Gareth?"

Gareth stared at her sadly, his hand wrapping around her forehoof. "Cecilia… I need more time to process all this. There's no church here, no plague, no pets, no Sunday archery and no steaks. I've... I've sacrificed everything to be with you."

Celestia's jaw clenched as she felt a spike drive into her heart. Gareth eye's widened, seeing the pain on her face.

Gareth stood, reaching over the table. He cupped her cheeks with his warm, strong hands.

"No no no! I didn't mean it like that, Cecilia!" He said. "I-I know that... this isn't your fault; following you was my choice. Please, I— please give me a little longer. I need to work something out for myself. I have to know my place here."

Celestia stared at him for a moment before reaching up and pulling him into a hug. "I trust you, Gareth. Let me know the minute you need another place to sleep."

Her husband smiled as he slowly pulled away, sitting back down. The scent of wood and polished leather lingering a moment longer as he did.

A few seconds passed as Gareth ate silently.

"You know, Gareth," Celestia felt a smile tug at her lips. "I've heard ponies refer to you as 'Grey Spear' now."

"I guess so. No pony can pronounce 'Gareth' worth a damn. Rather unimaginative anyway," he grunted. His mouth was half-full while he busily sawed off another piece of fish.

"And Cecilia is an English interpretation of 'Celestia'. Of the two of us, I think yours suits better, 'Grey Spear'."

"Har, har, Cecilia."

"It was Gleaming Horizon's idea, actually. She also mentioned how you tucked her into bed yesterday. How very chivalrous of you, Sir Gareth, and now you've got a lady-in-waiting pining for you," said Celestia, now grinning mischievously.

Gareth blanched predictably. Celestia felt a little guilty for baiting him like this, but it was so easy!

"God's truth, Cecilia!" Gareth spat. "Doesn't she get that I'm married to you? Besides, how old is she for a pony anyway?"

"She was old enough to wed/," Celestia sang in tune. "Like wings, her feelings spread/ He had a kindness in his eyes/ like fire, his hope would rise!"

"Ugh," Gareth growled. "If she thinks of me in such a way then she's in love with a shadow."

"Is she just?" Celestia said.

Celestia reached over the table and pulled him into another hug. This time her wings wrapped up over and around him.

"Cecilia," Gareth sighed, his voice softened as warm fingers brushed against her neck. "The only goodness I have is a reflection of you."

"Oh now you're just being melodramatic," she said, pulling back. Celestia mentally restrained herself from planting a kiss on his cheek, settling for ruffling up his hair and nudged him back into his seat. "You know what you need to loosen up? Social interaction!"

Gareth gave her an expression akin to a kicked puppy.

"Oh, don't look at me like that! You need to interact with other ponies, and what's more, I've asked Gleaming Horizon to personally tutor you in language lessons," said Celestia.

"That's not necessary," said Gareth, glancing away and trying not to arouse her ire. "I spend enough time with you, Butter Pie and Styre. You're the only ones that really seem to notice me, anyway."

"Oh really?" Celestia's horn lit up as she tugged a box out from underneath the table. She wasn't the least bit surprised Gareth hadn't noticed it by now; food always did give him tunnel vision. She placed the box on the table, tugging open the wrapping. "Perhaps this will help you with that."

Gareth frowned, standing and looking down, innocently and utterly curious. By Equestria she loved that look on his face.

"Oh wow," Gareth gasped, entirely in earnest, as he fished out his gift. "A jewelled headguard?"

The device in his hand had been under construction for nearly two days now. The white-wood headguard was symmetrically encrusted with gems of the colours of Celestia's Mane. The wood stretched over his forehead and curled down around the contours of his nose and jaw, strapped in place by a band of leather around his head.

"Doctor Legata prescribed that you wore something like this for roughly a year. Well, she actually suggested gem-crushed face-paint… I thought you would like something less invasive. Considering they'd already scanned the contours of your body, I thought why not," Celestia said, unable to hide her grin.

"These gems... they're massive," Gareth couldn't stopped gawking, fingers tracing around them. "Why gems?"

"Gems are solidified magic, Gareth," Celestia calmly explained. "In this world, when magic saturates an area for a long time, the magic slowly gets heavier until it starts to form small rocks. Somewhat like ice, actually. Those gems are ideal for helping ponies see you better."

Gareth strapped it to his head. She had to admit he did look quite dashing with the jewels glittering in the dim light.

He turned to her, grinning broadly. "Well, I'm not normally into jewellery, but a gift from my wife? I can accept that… on one condition."

Celestia cocked a brow.

"I want to start hunting again."

Celestia felt her heart seize. Gareth didn't know yet. Equestria wasn't like England, the 'game' here was nothing of the sort. Yet, hunting was such an important part of him... she needed to think quickly.

"Gareth, I'll permit it, but understand that I do not want you to travel alone. What's more, you know little of these lands. You'll be escorted outside of Canterlot."

"Understandable," Gareth nodded.

"AND you may not kill anything you hunt."

Gareth blinked. "Wait... I can't kill anything?"

Celesia nodded. "Catch and release only. Do you understand?"

Gareth frowned at her words, wiping the smile off his face. His lips curled in displeasure, pulling back and pacing. After a few moments of huffing in frustrated thought, he slowly nodded to himself.

"Fine," said Gareth. "I'll agree to your terms, self-defense only. I'll spend the next month preparing for the expedition."

Gareth gasped awake, soaked in sweat. Another nightmare.

The taste of last night's dinner rose up from his throat. He placed a shaking hand to his forehead, glancing about.

The courtyard. It was still dark.

Gareth pulled up from his sheets, immediately shivering as his breath frosted white.

He glanced up at Cecilia's tower. God damn it, what was he doing here? He should be warm in front of a fire right now. Surely that would be worth-- oh who was he kidding. Of course, he couldn't. Gareth couldn't even touch her for much longer than a pat without being revolted. He wouldn't play with his wife's feelings for a warm fire.

Gareth stood, shaking the memory of the dream from his mind. He didn't want to imagine the meaning behind cutting open a screaming Cecilia with his dagger, only to see her blood-soaked human form leap out of her skin and embrace him.

What Gareth needed was something, anything to put all this into perspective.

He needed a distraction. A big one.

Up until now, all he had was small things. Eating, sleeping, and pacing mindlessly had worn out their welcome. He needed something bigger to take his mind off all this. He looked around the forest.

One of the trees had cracked and fallen over.

He stepped out of his bedding, half dressed and shivering. His bare feet went numb against the frosted grass.

Gareth crouched down to the shattered trunk. His hand reached over and twisted off one of the larger pieces. Correction, he tried to, it sprang right back.

His eyes widened. This wood was just like yew…

He chuckled darkly, his left hand flexed in anticipation.

Gareth wasted no time. He moved about the courtyard, blithely ignoring the chill.

Raiding the courtyard's gardening shed got him the tools that he needed. Within half an hour he was cutting.

He split the log into two pieces. One for dry storage, a years-long process yielding a better bow stave, and the other for immediate use.

Gareth couldn't stop giggling. The twang of the string and the creak of wooden limbs, the rush of the shot and the muscle burn of the arrow-pull.

Hunting in 'self-defence' is such an easy notion to abuse.

It was noon the next day. The sun was high in the sky.

Gareth stood in the middle of the Guardsman's target range, a completed bow in hand.

Dark bags hung under Gareth's eyes. He didn't sleep, he couldn't. When he wasn't tillering the bow limb for maximum poundage, he was fletching arrows. Fortunately, plumage wasn't in short supply with pegasi about. He picked a few choice pieces off the unswept floors. Quality did not really matter right now; these were just headless wooden arrows.

He stared down range at the pony-shaped wooden mannequins. They were covered with scorch-marks. He glanced down as the unicorn guard stepped away from the firing line, allowing Gareth the next shot.

Gareth stepped forward, his boot splashing into a puddle of cold mud.

He ignored the growing crowd behind him. The guards watched him with steadily increasing awe - and worry - at his domineer. He'd forgotten that he was still wearing that headpiece that Cecilia gave him. No matter, he'd just ignore them.

The finished, unstrung bow staff in his hands was magnificent for a hastily completed self-bow. A linen cord hung from the top. He'd gotten that from raiding the royal dress-maker's closet. Her protests still rang in Gareth's ears.

Gareth grabbed the top of the staff and pulled down, his muscles burning against the enourmous poundage. Huffing, he grabbed the linned cord and strung the bottom of the staff. It was ready.

The target was easily in range. The wind was strong but steady.

An easy shot. Gareth pulled an arrow from his hastily constructed cloth quiver, fed it through the bow, nocked the arrow and then pulled.

Shr-iek.

He aimed at the target, correcting. The underused muscles in his back, left forearm and right upper arm burned.

Snap!

The arrow soared… metres over its target, bouncing off the stonewall behind it.

A roar of mocking, relieved laughter came from the ponies behind him.

Gareth felt his cheeks burn as sharply as his muscles. A silent rage swept over him. He wasted no time, pulling and nocking another arrow. He checked his fletching this time, tugging at the bowstring experimentally. Yes, it looked fine.

"Oh? Grey Spear!" A feminine voice came from his left.

"Hrn," Gareth growled in annoyance, letting the string go slack, holding the arrow in his forefingers.

That white unicorn from before, Gleaming Horizon, stood at the entrance.

Turned back to the target. He had more important things to do.

"Oh, I-I'm sorry, it's just, I can see you now," she said, meekly pointing up to the headpiece on his face.

Shr-iek.

"Hrn," Gareth grunted again, bringing up his bow and pulling the arrow back. Aim lower, watch the wind. Now, fir-!

"Grey Spear?"

Snap!

Gareth flinched mid-release. The arrow spiraled off into the east wall. The guards let out another round of chuckles.

The bow's limb began to creak as Gareth's right hand gripped it with a trembling rage.

"Grey Spear?" Gleaming Horizon repeated, stepping closer. "You missed beath nath neiner ja lesson." He found himself understanding part of what she was saying regardless.

"I know. Preparing," said Gareth, his teeth grit.

"F-for what?"

Gareth nocked another arrow. "Hunting."

Shr-iek.

Snap!

He fired again, the arrow pinwheeled up into the roof's gutters. Gareth shoved the spike of anger down. No, not her fault that time. He should have known that was a bad feather.

"Oh, uh," Gleaming frowned, gathering up her courage. "Bell, jast rust nath rueeth, neigh you need to come!"

Gareth ignored her, reaching for another arrow.

Gleaming reared up and her forelimbs linked around Gareth's leg arm. She tugged away at him, trying to lead him to the exit.

The jarring movement caused the rest of Gareth's arrows to spill onto the ground. The fletching clattering into the mud, soiled.

Gareth froze.

No. He turned to her. No. All that work, gone, in the blink of an eye. He barely registered unsheathing his dagger.

Gleaming released him with a squeak of horror shuffling back, trembling at the sight of the gleaming metal blade. The fear in her eyes it was...

It was...

Gareth blinked. Slowly at first, then rapidly.

He shook his head, awakening from a dream. He looked down at the bow in his left hand, then to the arrows at his feet… and the drawn dagger in his right.

The now-alert guards, lowered their heads and splayed their legs wide in a familiar combat posture.

Then Gareth looked over to Gleaming. She was afraid of him.

He immediately sheathed the blade, his face twisted in anguished apology. "Gleaming, I-… I sorry. Please, I sorry. Let go learn. Now. Please."

Gleaming pale lips trembled. She looked over to the guards, nodding nervously. After a moment, they nodded back. They began to relax.

"O-okay. Please, come," Gleaming Horizon said, gesturing him to follow.

The weight of fatigue suddenly collapsed atop Gareth's shoulders. He glanced back at the muddied and ruined arrows behind him. He brought up his trembling right hand. In that flash of madness...

Years ago, that murderous rage was familiar, welcome, a key to his survival.

Now all he felt was dread.

Four hours later, Gareth plodded through the castle's halls, his face and shoulders sagging.

Despite his fatigue, Gareth felt strangely relieved. Gleaming Horizon was a good tutor and in many ways, she reminded him of Father Clemens. They were both bookish sorts with little martial experience, as well as being gentle and kind. They also both had this habit of fiddling with practically anything within arm's reach, particularly when they were nervous.

With Father Clemens, that meant his habit's belt or hemlines.

With Gleaming Horizon, who had no arms, fiddling meant grabbing anything with her sorceries.

Gareth quickly learnt to be as gentle as he could around her. He had already up-ended a desk in squawking fright when she snatched a pencil from it.

Gareth sighed. Magic was simply something that he would have to get used to here. In England, using sorceries was something that was meant to be extremely difficult. Well, at least not without a contract with Satan or the Fae. When broaching the subject, Gareth shuddered at the memory, he needed to explain what a 'Satan' was. Apparently, no, they did not have a contract with a 'Satan'. Their magic was naturally bred into them, meaning that it was God's will that they have it.

What they did have was something called a 'Discord'. Gareth drew a picture of Satan, just to be sure, and she reared back in fright, conjuring up an illusion of a twisted beast. Horned goat's head, bat-like wings, the limb of a lion and an eagle for arms, and a lizard and goat for legs. Gareth's skin crawled at the idea; at least she seemed appropriately afraid of the Evil One.

Gareth looked up at the massive stone doors leading to Cecilia's courts. He shook his head. That's right, he had a purpose for being here.

According to Gleaming Horizon, the Equestrian word for hunter was 'Ucigas'. He remembered her face twisting in disgust. Did he misunderstand her? He'd have to ask Cecilia.

Gareth approached, only to have a pair of pegasi guards block his path. He frowned down at their crossed-over wings. Gareth supposed he could push past, but he doubted that Cecilia would like that.

They blathered something at him, gesturing to the door behind them. Gareth strained his ears. Yes, through the doors he could hear quite a bit of talking. Loud talking. Oh dear, politics, his one weakness.

Gareth backed off, nodding to them both. He walked away, supporting the wall on the opposite side of the hall. They immediately relaxed, dismissing him as a threat and continuing their façade of wary boredom.

He let his legs slacken as he slowly slid down the wall, hitting the cool stone floor, legs dangling out onto the red carpet. By God he felt tired. Perhaps it would be okay if he just rested his eyes for a moment.

Pain snapped up and down Gareth's neck. A pair of furred mitts and teeth dragging against his nose and cheeks. Something was trying to pull his head off.

Gareth's eyes snapped open. The blurred chest and face of a dog flashed in front of him. Thick white fur, gleaming blue eyes and cracked yellow teeth.

His mind fled and his body took over.

"-ear?"

Gareth's dagger scraped out of the sheath. He roared and launched himself forward and onto the hound's chest, dagger soaring for the underside of its chin.

The beast writhed underneath his body, the clawed tips of its hands ripping his white tunic.

"GREY SPEAR! NO!"

He froze, holding the trembling blade at the tip of its throat. Gareth's free hand grabbed the dog by the face, shoving its muzzle down against the ground.

Gareth looked up at an unfamiliar golden-coated unicorn. Male, if he guessed correctly, important too, if the stylised silver mane held any weight. Brown eyes glared down at Gareth and the beast underneath in utter horror.

A crowd gathered behind him. Cecilia's entire court: the double doors swung wide open. A pair of guards were now at the golden unicorn's sides, their eyes wide and attention focused on the dagger in his hand.

"Forgive me," a croaking voice said.

Gareth looked down.

"Forgive me," the dog groaned, looking up at him pitifully. Its hand pulled away from his chest and held out in a show of surrender. "I did
grath ran yanth wornd."

Only now did Gareth notice the elaborate clothing that it wore. Blues and gold. The fine stitch would have marked him as nobility in England. Here, he couldn't imagine the status of the thing that just tried to assault him… and he nearly stabbed to death.

"Grey Spear, stop. He--" the golden unicorn launched into a tirade of Equestrian.

Gareth stared blankly.

The golden pony groaned. "He is a friend. He made a mistake. Do not hurt him."

Gareth's hand began to shake, the dagger trembling against the dog's throat. His breath quickened. His opposite hand reached up, wiping his face. He thought it was blood. It was dog slobber.

He stood under the weight of over two hundred eyes. He saw the look in their eyes. They were surprisingly human, so it was especially easy to recognise the expressions of fear and loathing.

Gareth’s hand traced around the gems on his face.

"Ucigas," a growling voice game from the back of the herd. A dressed pony without horn or wing pushed through the crowd. Red-orange coat, black mane and a dire glare in his yellow eyes. If it weren't for the scar, he'd look just like Styre. He waved a forehoof at him, orating loudly at the crowd. From the disgust and sarcasm in his tone,he wasn't talking of Gareth in a favourable light. The word 'Ucigas' was being used over and over again.

Then the golden unicorn trotted between them, arguing with the crowd. He stood his ground, back towards Gareth and front towards not-Styre. Even in another language, it clear that he was trying to defend Gareth.

A tremble rushed up Gareth's spine. He had to escape. He had to get out. Gareth turned and fled.

Gareth pulled himself up the last step to Cecilia's bedroom. A pair of pegasi guards glanced to him. He could detect the worry in their faces, and the relief at the sight of him. Gareth frowned, that look certainly was a first. Then again, many ponies have been giving him looks recently.

He hated it.

Gareth walked forward, gesturing for them to step aside. They did so, pressing their forehooves up against the double doors. Once again, he was glad he didn't need to kick this one down. He didn't fancy his foot's chance against wood that thick and strong.

Inside, Cecilia sat at a desk, near identical to one the back in the old castle. Her horn glowed pale gold as a quill furiously scribbled over parchment. She was sketching.

"Leave me, I'm not in the mood," Cecilia said, not turning towards him. Gareth immediately cringed; Cecilia angry-sketching was never a good thing to interrupt.

Still, he needed answers. Something was happening to Gareth, he couldn't explain it, but he was out of balance. Without Father Clemens, his best bet was Cecilia.

The doors closed with a thud. And a click.

He had no choice. Gareth took a deep breath and stepped towards her.

Cecilia sighed harshly, actively suppressing herself from snapping at him. "Please, leave. I need to think—"

"I'm sorry to interrupt, Cecilia," said Gareth, growing increasingly nervous. "I just—"

"Gareth?" Cecilia's voice was low and vulnerable. She turned to him, anger draining, replaced by worry.

"Yes, again, I'm sorry, but what does Ucig—" Gareth paused, glancing down at the parchment. That was black-and-white sketch of wingless, hornless pony. Gareth picked it up. "…What is this?"

The stallion's eyes were the first thing he noticed, piercing and dark, he'd seen those eyes before in old soldiers. The mane was unusual, long and flat, around its neck, while a short beard crawled around its mouth. Finally, a tatto— uh, 'Cutie Mark' of a dog's paw on its flank.

He lowered it, cocking a brow at Cecilia.

"It's nothing important!" Cecilia spluttered, snatching it from his grip, stuffing it into a drawer. She pushed forward, forehooves pressing against him as she checked for injury. "The guards have been tearing the castle apart trying to find you! A-are you okay? Did the ambassador hurt you?"

Gareth pushed her forehooves away, lacing a few fingers through the tatters of his shirt.

"He tore up my favourite— well, only, tunic, but no; I'm not hurt," Gareth said.

"Oh," Cecilia rested back on her chair. She gave a shuddering sigh, forehooves pressing up against her eyes. Her shoulders trembled as she spoke, voice quailing, "Gareth, I-I'm so sorry. I should have seen this coming when I heard about the Diamond Dogs. He was attracted to the gems in your forehead protector; he didn't think you were alive. This is all my fault."

Cecilia gestured to the pile of papers on her desk; Gareth could see text hidden underneath the sketches.

"I'm putting off a meeting right now," she continued, "To determine the rate of expansion by Earth Ponies in the Unicorn Free-Ranges. The Pegasi, who are already stretched thin trying to protect them, are countermanding this! I-I just don't know what to do, Gareth! I can't do this, I don't remember how!"

Gareth frowned. All of a sudden, his own fears seemed so much the smaller.

"And you!" Gareth flinched as Cecilia rounded on him, her rage turned out to be guilt. "I know that just being here is hurting you. I've heard reports about you being up at ungodly hours trying to make a bow, how you nearly assaulted Gleaming Horizon and how you DID assault the Diamond Dog Ambassador! Gareth, you followed me here to all this and I just keep hurting you!"

Seconds passed in silence.

Gareth bit his lip as he glanced away. Damn it, he didn't even need to try, he was already her problem. No, he couldn't tell her. He couldn't burden her like this, he'd just need to hold back on it until--

"Gareth… let's run away."

"…What?" Gareth breathed, his head flicked up to her in disbelief.

"Yes," Cecilia continued, a sick, desperate smile formed on her face. She turned to him, grabbing his shoulders. "Gareth, let's run! We can start again. W-we can have what we had before! We just need to go back through the portal and it'll all be—"

Gareth had heard enough. His hands reached up, gripping both of her forehooves, hard.

"Stop it, Cecilia," Gareth said through grit teeth. "I didn't marry a weakling, and you have a stronger will than any man or woman I know. You can do this. Everyone out there trusts you and depends on you. You can’t leave them. They aren't going to give up on you if you don't give up on them."

Slowly, gently, his hands released her forehooves and pulled her head forward. His forehead placed itself in a nook between her horn and her nose.

"I believe in you, Cecilia," Gareth said. "I believe that you can save them from themselves. I wasn't raised as a page or have had training as a diplomat, but I am your husband. I may not be able to give you the direct support, but I can give you a promise; no matter what happens, I will always be there for you."

"G-Gareth," she started to break in his grip, wrapping herself around him again. This time it was easier to ignore the smell. The urge to break away was easily squelched.

"I'm not leaving you alone tonight. I'm sleeping here, just to watch over you. Okay?" The words just slipped out of Gareth's mouth, but it seemed right.

"O-okay."

They stayed like that for a good minute, simply holding each other.

Gareth knew his duty. He needed to know the language of the ponies. He couldn't stay on the sidelines anymore. Perhaps it was time Cecilia's subjects knew exactly who the Prince Consort was. For better or worse.

Chapter 7: Recoronation & betrayal

In Canterlot's courtyard, in the noon of the day, stood a single round wooden target. Its surface was painted, with an outer ring of blue and a single red dot in the centre. Although it'd been recently made, its face had already been littered and marred with dozens of puncture marks.

Shri-ek.

The breeze picked up. There was a shimmer of crimson magic followed by a soft snap, breaking off one of the leaves from the surrounding trees. It swept down, gently wafting past the front of the target's surface.

Snap!

There was a rush of air as an arrow impaled through the leaf and into the target with a wooden thunk. Within a second, the shaft shuddered violently to a halt, the greenery vibrating down to the base.

Gareth exhaled slowly as he spied his mark, lowering his bow. He smiled; finally, he was making some progress.

"Thank you for the extra target," Gareth spoke in careful Equestria, turning to Gleaming Horizon. "I hit your leaf."

Gleaming Horizon sat underneath the shade of one of the trees, gazing up at him from the array of flashcards in her forehooves. The crimson light around her horn died away.

The white unicorn wore an even more refined dress than normal. Gone were the simple hues of brown and blue, and in were the swirling golden finery, white silk cloth and gem-lined tiara. Being Cecilia's lady-in-waiting, she had clearly prepared her best in anticipation of tonight's events.

"You hit my leaf? Very good!" Gleaming said, smiling up at him. "Now, repeat; 'I am nobility from England'."

Gareth frowned in concentration. He mouthed out the words, trying to mimic her, "I— I aam nobiliniity fram Angland?"

He could not help but feel a pang of guilt as Gleaming shook her head in exasperation.

"Grey Spear, We've drilled for nearly a week now. You are not ready for this," she declared in an all-too serious tone.

Gareth's eyes widened, his hand gripped the bow staff.

"No, I will learn! Cecilia is called princess again tonight!" He said.

"Gareth..."

He turned, nocking another arrow.

Shri-ek.

"I will be there. I will support. I promised her," Gareth continued, breathing the words as he sighted his target and—

Snap!

Another arrow sprung up next to his first, both nestled in the bullseye.

He felt a spike of confidence at the very sight of it. A wolfish grin spreaded across his face. He turned back to Gleaming, "I can do this—"

"No, not like this, you won't," a cultured voice cut in.

Gareth turned to face it, right hand already groping for another arrow. He had the shaft already halfway out before he saw who it was,

Noble Era stood at the edge of the treeline, watching them with a calculating glint in his dark brown eyes.

With regret, Gareth returned the arrow. Cecilia would not be pleased to have him accidentally kill one of her subjects. Well, okay, for this subject she would at least scold him a little. Maybe. The significance of the fact that Noble Era was one of the few ponies he knew by reputation - and poor one from Cecilia's less-than-flattering appraisal - was not lost on him.

Noble Era slowly trotted past the treeline, fearlessly locking eyes with Gareth. A golden locket hung around the stallion's neck, modled into the shape of a pony's face.

"You are not going to be able to speak to them," the stallion continued, "and this night is rathetn. Ponies eaverth gath reen—"

Gareth's eyes glazed over. He barely managed to distinguish the few words he did know from the gibberish. Noble Era continued regardless, making a few pointed jabs at Gareth's chest for good measure.

"Cousin?" Gleaming Horizon said, tilting her head. She stood, trotting over to Gareth's side. "Grey Spear doesn't understand. Please, speak slower, and speak simply."

Noble Era frowned at her, and then sighed. He looked up at Gareth, clearing his throat, "Princess Celestia needs your help. Ponies think she made a bad decision with you. You need to make them stop thinking that."

Gareth paused, struggling to process the relatively unfamiliar words.

"Alright," Gareth replied, hoping he had caught the gist of it, "how?"

"With this," Noble Era's horn and locket glowed with a white light. The 'jaw' slid open, and a massive, pink pill, easily the size of his thumb, slid out. There was a deep groove in the middle, presumably to be snapped into two.

"Oh my, is that--" Gleaming Horizon breathed, staring at the pill as it hovered up towards Gareth.

"This is an 'Ambassador's pill'," Noble Era said. "Break it in half. You eat one. I eat one. We speak each other's language for a time. Understood?"

Gareth frowned, nervously holding his palm up to the ensorced pill. He stopped half-way, glancing at Gleaming Horizon. He pointed at the pill while looking at her, hoping she could understand his non-verbal request.

Thankfully, she understood, nodding once before her horn glowed crimson.

Gareth tried to remain calm as the colour of pill in front of him changed from white-pink to red-pink.

"It is safe, Gareth," Gleaming Horizon said, giving him a rosy smile. She released her grip on it.

On one hand, Gareth wasn't exactly a proponent of new medicines. He thought that good food, bed rest and a poultice every now and again trumped just about any modern alchemical concoctions. Sadly, he was running out of options. This land clearly had all manners of natural magics. Maybe, just maybe, this would work as advertised. If Cecilia's lady-in-waiting thought it was worth the shot, then it was starting to sound like the only sensible option.

He turned back to Noble Era, frowning deeply as he thought about how to ask this, "Who eats the other pill?"

"As I said; I will. I am not needed tonight," Noble Era said, standing tall.

"Good!" Gareth quickly snatched the pill out of the air. He suppressed a grin as he turned around, broke it in two, then spun back, holding out one of the pieces. If the pill is poisoned, then Noble Era could take the first bite. "You first."

Noble Era cocked a brow, looking over the pill for a moment, then shrugged. His sorceries lifted the pill from his hand and popped it into his mouth. After a few harsh crunches, he swallowed hesitantly. From the look on his face, the taste was not exactly pleasant.

Gareth delayed for a few seconds, watching Noble Era.

A few seconds turned into a dozen, simply watching the stallion for a reaction.

"Ah-hem!" Noble Era loudly cleared his throat, jabbing a forehoof at Gareth's side of the pill. He glared at Gareth, lifting his brow questioningly.

Gareth sighed. Well, he reasoned to himself, if the poison hadn't set in now then it simply wasn't going to show. He bit into the pill, chewing quickly and swallowing. A foul concotion of horseraddish, ginger, rotten eggs and sugar filled his mouth. He mimicked Noble Era's sour expression, pressing a hand up against his neck as he felt it burn all the way down his throat.

"Do you understand me now?" Noble Era said in a familiar voice… in perfect English.

Gareth stared down at Noble Era as though he was possessed.

'What the fu—' Gareth stopped, grabbing his throat once more. That was in Equestrian.

"Grey Spear!" Gleaming Horizon gasped in horror. "Bad language! Very bad!"

'Wait, that was still in Equestrian. Wasn't this supposed to translate?!' Gareth forced himself to rattle off words to that effect, glaring down at Noble Era.

Noble grinned, saying, "The Ambassador's Pill translates intent. You must centre yourself on the message you want to convey, and then speak. The catch is that while you can speak Equestrian, it doesn't grant understanding of it. The pill is not perfect, but it will work for a re-coronation speech. So, did you understand all that you big two-armed twat?"

'Loud and clear, wife-fucker,' Gareth growled. From the way Gleaming let off another scandalised gasp, he could only assume his message translated correctly.

"Good." Noble Era said, turning in place. "Now, practice for a while with Gleaming. If you'll excuse me, I've my own work to do."

"Wait, cousin! Where are you going?"

Noble Era turned back to Gareth with a cocky smirk, "Tell her that I have translation of my own to attend to. Oh, and thank you again, Prince Gareth."

At that, Noble Era trotted back into the treeline, towards the castle.

Gareth huffed in frustration. The feeling was nostalgic; he'd not experienced this particular mix of burning hate and grudging respect since long before he became a gamekeeper. Damn it, Noble Era was going to start a feud with him, wasn't he?

Then again, Gareth found himself smiling at the thought. Having enemies naturally came with gaining influence.

Celestia pushed her way past the heavy velvet curtains backstage. Finally she was alone to her own thoughts again.

"Where is he?" She muttered under her breath.

The night had come all too soon and within a scant ten minutes, she'd be out there, allowing her crown to be returned to her brow. The concept might have sounded a bit silly at first blush, already being effectively in charge, but it was important for the common-ponies to know that she was officially their princess once more.

To that effect, her attire for tonight. Long and extravagant, the white dress was detailed in gold trim and lined with purple gems that matched her eyes. The front of the dress wrapped snuggly around her chest while the very back trailed down onto the ground behind her; not a stylistic choice she cared for, but fortunately she didn't wear clothing often enough for it to really bother her. Finally, her hooves had forgone her typical royal shoes, instead wrapped in a more vivid quartet of golden sandals, the laces of which wrapped up and around her cannons.

Not bad for a decade old dress, Celestia mused, even if she could still detect a faint musty smell emanating from it. While she would have liked a new dress for such an occasion, she had her dressmakers assigned to a more pressing matter.

"Gareth?" She whispered. "Gareth, where are you?"

"I'm here, my love," Noble Era replied from behind her.

Celestia's nostrils flared. No, this was the last time. He would be dangling by the leg from the top of her balcony by the end of the night--

Instead of a upstart unicorn… it was Gareth, smiling broadly.

The magic around her horn subsided almost immediately, looking him up and down. That was indeed the royal uniform that her dressmakers had prepared. The military-inspired suit was coloured black with a silver trim. Circular patterns ran across his jacket, inlaid with buttons. The pants and shirt were fitted firmly but comfortably against his body, a testament to her dressmaker’s skills that they managed such a feat within a week for such an alien body type.

He still wore his tired brown leather gloves and boots, while his blonde hair was cleaned and tied back into a ponytail. Two bangs of hair fell down on either side of his face, framing it and complementing the gem-encrusted headguard.

Celestia chewed her lip. It had been months since she'd been able to convince him to dress this well. Now she was painfully reminded that him sleeping in her quarters, was night, it wasn't helping with her more... intimate longings. If anything, it was making it worse.

"Is something wrong, love?" Gareth spoke in Noble Era's voice, growing concerned. "Sorry, I've taken an Ambassador's Pill with Noble Era. Don't worry, I don't think it was poisoned; he took the other half of the pill."

She ignored the flush on her cheeks, nodding vacantly. Think unsexy thoughts. Focus on Noble Era. Yes, focus on that. Somepony told her that they heard a strange voice coming from Noble Era's room all day, along with furious quill scribbling.

Wait, poison?

"Gareth..." She took a few steps forward, "he could have laced both sides and be immune to it." Celestia gently pointed out, looking him over.

Her husband paused for a moment, that cute look of deep thought sweeping over his face. Then he brushed off her logic with a wave of his hand.

"I doubt it," Gareth said. "Noble Era couldn’t possibly have known what is lethal to humans by now."

"Alright," Celestia whispered, her brow creased in concern. "But please be more careful. You would have done fine without the pill!"

"Thanks for sparing my feelings, but we both know that isn't true."

"Your majesty?" A mousey mare's voice interrupted. One of her attendant's poked through the curtains. "It's time; you'll be speaking first."

Private Styre was bored.

No, worse than bored; he was bored and surrounded by nobles. While thankful for the time off, Styre didn't know what possessed him to attend the re-coronation tonight. Yet, here he was in Celestia's stage hall, trying to keep at least one flank against the wall. All around him, the nobility gossiped and argued with equal passion about things of no consequence and things of extreme consequence, frequently in the same sentence.

He wished that Butter Pie hadn't been hired at the last minute. He imagined her slaving away in the kitchens to help dish up treats for tonight's festivities. That was happening with worrying frequency, actually. Fame had its drawbacks it seems, and since last week her shop had been stuffed full of nobility.

Styre saw Gareth trying to visit them at Butter Pie's shop a few days ago. He took one look at the line trailing outside, then turned and left without saying so much as a word. That hurt a little, and Styre didn’t fully know why.

The crowd hushed; Princess Celestia stepped through the curtains behind stage. Her gown shimmered along with her hair as she launched into a long and soothing speech. She spoke about how Equestria had been fractured and how she intended to reinstate her rule with basic kindness and respect.

Styre already found himself tuning out.

Then he felt a tap on his shoulder. His father, Mr. Larms, stood by his side, favouring him with an unwholesome grin. Larms looked down, plucking out a small bottled from his dress jacket with his teeth.

"Care for a drink, Styre?" He mumbled, rolling the bottle's neck around his lips, already tugging at the cork.

"Oh piss off," Styre snorted in disgust, batting the bottle away. The jug clattered against the floor, rolling to a stop at its owner's forehooves.

Mr. Larm's face fell immediately, "Oh c'mon Styre, what've I done to earn your ire THIS time?"

Styre hotly ignored him, trying to focus on a speech he didn't care about.

"Son," Mr. Larms sighed, scratching the back of his head. "I know we've had some rough patches, what with 'Pearl and Red Streak… no longer being here, but I'm just askin' for another chance."

"You were banished from the Apple clan for a reason, Mr. Larms," Styre spat, coldly glaring at him. "I still don't know how you got the clan to vouch for you after the fact, but they should know better than anypony that you're a complete lunatic!"

"Please, I prefer 'Drunken Master of Life'," Larms said, picking up the jug and tugging out the cork. He took a quick swig, licking his lips, before replacing it and the bottle back into his dress jacket. "Look, the reason why I'm here is that I couldn't help but notice just how underutilised you are. Did you know that, or are you happy being a patsy?"

Styre sighed, his father simply wasn't going to go away. Styre would just have to wait until Larms got bored and left. "Alright, I'll bite; how am I 'underutilised'?"

"Well, for starters, how come you're still just a Private?" Larms leaned over, wrapping a foreleg around Styre's neck and pulling him into a side-hug. "Son, you're wasting yourself on this! You're built for bigger things!"

"I'll decide what I'm made for," Styre growled, remaining as stiff as he could. "Celestia's tits, you're not here for five seconds and you're already trying to force me back into being your lackey. Would you just get out of my—"

"This ain't about petty crime son. Not anymore," Larms cut him off, suddenly deadly serious. He pointed up to the stage. "This is about the future of Equestria."

"Princess Celestia isn't a bad leader," Styre said, rolling his eyes.

"Oh, you're right, she's a terrible leader," Larms released him, turning to his front and looking him dead in the eye. "Listen to me, Styre, I learnt a valuable lesson when I was a foal; you cannot rely on one pony to give you everything. You need to be able to get it yourself. Equestria has been kept in a coma for the past four hundred years thanks to her. When she left, we were only just starting to wake back up. Now that she's back? She wants to put us back under again!"

Styre snorted. "And whos going to do it better, you?"

Larms shoulders sagged. "Look, Styre… I'm not an idiot; I can't be the leader that Equestria needs. My heart is too cold. But… maybe I know somepony who can."

Styre's ears swivelled to his side, glaring at his father. "…What?"

"Shush, Styre, the human is speaking."

The room rumbled in applause as Princess Celestia stepped back from the end of the stage. She looked over to the curtains as a familiar biped walked through. Gareth, dressed in a clean, Wonderbolts inspired suit… and dressed in royal Lunar colours, walked up to the end of the stage.

"I am Sir Grey Spear of Angleland," he loudly declared in a crisp Canterlot accent. "I fell in love with Princess Celestia when she was in my lands, and it was there that I pledged my life to her. However, at that time I did not know that she had made the same pledge to another. This pledge she made to Equestria and I am not daunted, for I willingly make the same pledge to you—"

Larms grinned, watching the speech continue. "Such conviction, all spoken through an Ambassador's Pill. Well, at least she has good choice in breeding stock. Shame about the homicidal tendencies."

Styre glared at Larms, who shrugged uncaring.

"I'm just saying; Prince-Consorts that sleep in halls and stab ambassadors? Aren't always the best choice. Anyway, I've seen enough. Have a nice night," Larms said, turning away from Styre.

Styre just shook his head. Finally, it was over.

Suddenly, Larm stopped, looking back. He smiled genuinely. "Oh, and Butter Pie? She's a sweet thing. Treat her right, or I'll break my forehoof off in your arse."

"Oh piss off, da'," Styre groused.

"That's my boy!" Larms said, grinning as he pointed a forehoof at him.

Celestia sighed in relief as she walked away from the stage hall. Just like that, it was all over. Thank Harmony.

The night had well and truly fallen, the crown had been returned to her head, the tribes re-declared their loyalties to her, and finally tonight's battle was over.

Colonel Purple Dart's support was expected, but nonetheless a relief. As was Noble Era's, even though his lack of speech meant that he had to give his support through an Equestrian translator for the benefit of the audience. What was intriguing was that Mr. Chucky Larm also gave his support. Celestia was certain that he would be a problem, but no, he seemed to be almost… cordial tonight. Naturally she'd already had a group of guards keeping an eye on him, but they hadn't discovered anything illegal as of yet. Still, just two out of three would have saved her, and she had all three. Celestia had been recrowned and Equestria was hers yet again. For now, the day was saved.

Gareth yawned loudly next to her. Celestia smiled as he rubbed his eyes.

"That went well, didn't it?" She said.

"I'm not so sure," Gareth muttered, glancing out the windows they passed on their way to the courtyard. "Then again, politics was never my forte. I'll need to trust you on that."

"Really? I'd have never have guessed with a speech like that," Celestia grinned, already setting up another lure. "That is… unless you had help?"

From the material spoken and the heart-felt way it was delivered, Celestia would've bet her kingdom that it was Gleaming Horizon.

Gareth blushed, glancing away from her. "Gleaming Horizon helped coach me."

Celestia smirked.

"I'm just glad it's over," Gareth said, smiling at her. "Did you want to turn in early? The cot back in your room is calling to me."

Celestia stopped. She just couldn't stop grinning, her cheeks burning. Her heart skipped a beat as his intoxicating scent filled her nose. From the way the moonlight illuminated his kind features to the cut of his suit and the gentle strength she knew he had underneath; the ember of desire in her heart ignited itself into a blazing inferno.

She did a quick mental calculation; it's been a week. Maybe, just maybe.

She took a step towards him, her head raising up to his height, lips subtly parting.

Gareth took a step back, frowning in puzzlement. He wasn't alarmed, just curious. The look on his face did it, she couldn't hold back.

She took another step, and another, and he kept backing away. Finally his back hit the wall. His eyes widened, glancing over his shoulder before turning back to her.

"C-Celestia?" He said sheepishly; Celestia didn't even care that it was in Noble Era's voice. "Wh-what's wrong?"

"I want to kiss you," Celestia murmured, inches away from him.

"Wha-?"

Celestia pressed her lips up against his. At last. Warmth spread throughout her body as she rode a wave of bliss. In this moment, she couldn’t feel more right. Her kingdom was back, her husband was hers; Gareth was right, it was all over. Finally, finally…

She could felt Gareth freeze underneath her. She smiled against him. That was all she needed. She hooked a forehoof around his neck and pulled him in, parting his lips and pressing her tongue into—

Celestia slammed into the ground.

She played back the past few seconds in her mind, warmth already fading as the cold stone sapped it away. Celestia was kissing Gareth, then his hands planted onto her shoulders and… shoved her. He shoved her away with enough force to send her sprawling.

Celestia groggily looked up at Gareth.

Gareth stared back at her, face pale with horror, disgust and utter betrayal. He gagged as he brushed the back of his hand against his mouth before spitting to the ground. He backed off down the hall, hands held out against her.

He stammered something, words between an apology, an excuse and a threat—

He turned and fled, dashing down the hall and out into the courtyard. Within moments, he'd vanished into the treeline.

Celestia's vision blurred. The fire in her heart wasn't merely extinguished, it was replaced with an awful, burning, gnawing feeling in her stomach.

She stood, moving without thinking and galloped in the opposite direction. She didn't know where she was going or why, all she knew was that she needed to get away. Yet, no matter where she went, she knew she could never escape the screaming in her head.

As she ran by, she never saw Noble Era standing in a hall nearby.

Gareth stood at the base of the tree, one hand pressed against it for support.

He spat violently as he forced himself to breathe through his mouth and look away from the mess on the soil and his boots. Gareth staggered backwards, strength fleeing from him. He lowered himself down, the cool of the grass helping to settle his stomach even as his head swam. Already he began to unbutton his jacket, trying to pull it off; God, he felt as if he was on fire.

The events of fives minutes ago repeated in his head. The putrid taste of horse saliva, the scalding heat and texture, the pure revulsion. He felt like he could never clean himself of this... this violation. How did Cecilia ever think that what she did was okay? He trusted her! He thought that she understood!

Then a fresh wave of nausea swept over him. No, she did understand, it was he that was under a delusion. Earlier tonight, didn’t he announce himself as 'Prince-Consort Grey Spear'? That was the whole purpose of a consort. It his duty - willingly accepted - to give the ruler children. He just swore that he would fuck a horse - frequently - to an entire nation of horses.

Gareth struggled to his feet, stumbling back to the tree. He heaved again, this time it washed up through his nose, burning and sticking to the inside. His arms and legs trembled as it he grew weaker still; his whole body burned.

"We ponies have a saying--"

Gareth whipped around, grasping for his dagger.

"I think you know it, 'be careful what you wish for'." Noble Era stood upon a flight of stone stairs, speaking to him in his stolen voice.

'Fuck off, Noble Era,' Gareth forced himself to choke out, trying to ignore the taste, and now smell, of bile.

"Look at you," Noble Era continued, hooves clopping down the stairs. "She abandoned us for you, and you abandoned your world for her. Now this is the end result. You're supposed to fulfil her most basic desires, but you can't even accept a kiss without vomiting over yourself," Noble Era jabbed a hoof down at Gareth's splattered shoes. "It's over, Gareth. You've failed."

Gareth stared at him, he— no, he couldn't be right. It couldn't end like this. Surely. 'No… no, I'm not, I just… I just need to—'

"Need to what? Need to what, Gareth? Tell me!" Noble Era snarled, his face burning in unabashed fury. He paused for emphasis, continuing moments later. "You have no 'plan', no idea, no clue of what you're doing. You can't be her consort because you can't even let her touch you without reacting violently!"

Noble Era's voice turned bitter, "Oh, but perhaps you can still help her, hmmm? Perhaps you can help things behind the scenes, be her personal bogeyman. I know your inner rage, and I've no doubt of your skill, but how long can you keep that under control? You talk about loving Equestria like Celestia, and I've no doubt about that. You really do. You love the idea of it, but when faced with the reality… you're repulsed."

Gareth took a staggering step forward, glaring hatefully at Noble Era. There was a keening noise as he ripped his dagger from his holster. He thrust it out at him, hoping, praying that the threat of violence would silence him.

Yet, Noble Era only shook his head sadly.

"I really wanted to see it work out, you know?" Noble Era said in a shockingly genuine voice. "I love Princess Celestia, I want her to be happy. When I see her with you, she's happy. When she's not… she hurts. Therein lies the problem, doesn't it? You affect her, Gareth, deeply, I've seen it."

Gareth stopped, dagger trembling in the air as he found himself listening.

"Each time you've fought or pushed her away, she become dark, callous, almost cruel. Each time you've mended or grown closer, she becomes even gentler than the Celestia I remember. Unfortunately, I know where this road ends; it ends in a downward spiral where your relationship rips itself apart… and takes Equestria with it.

"You tried your best to accept her change, Gareth," Noble Era said in a sorrowful tone. "But if you stop this façade now, before it’s too late, if you're honest with her, you can prevent this. I know it will hurt her deeply in the short term, but in the long term, it’s the best chance Equestria has."

Gareth's dagger fell from his grip, padding into the grass. Nothing came to mind, no retorts, no words, only a gnawing despair that grew with every passing second. Gareth fell to his knees, staring ahead, eyes wide and shattered.

Noble Era turned and took a step up the staircase, glancing back to give him a look of utmost pity.

"Think about this, Gareth. She's already mourning your loss even as you live. Stop this before you see your love become poisoned into hate," Noble Era said, turning and continuing back up the staircase.

The only thing that Gareth wanted to feel then and there was nothing at all. His vision blurred as tears began to roll down his cheeks. He choked out a sob; never had he felt so powerless. Another wave of nausea washed over him as he fell down to the ground, gripping the dagger in his hands and pulling it close to his chest.

Uncle… Father Clemens… Christ Almighty… he just— he just didn't know what to do anymore.

"Gar-eth?"

Gareth opened a bleary eye, looking up at Styre's concerned face. He saw his discarded suit jacket draped over Styre's shoulders. Looking over the stallion’s shoulder he could see that it was still dark out. God, he must look pathetic.

"C'mon Gar-eth. We're going to Gleaming Horizon's room," Styre said, digging his snout underneath Gareth's armpit.

Gareth could only weakly moan in acknowledgement as Styre helped him up. His legs felt like wet pasta. He didn't want to think about last night, he didn't want to think about anything. The only thing he wanted was to curl up and be left alone.

"Hurry Gar-eth. You smell like shit," Styre snorted, grinning up at Gareth.

No… he couldn't stay, Styre would probably just kick him until he moved. Gareth smiled despite himself.

Chapter 8: Abduction & small-talk

Author's Notes:

For anyone who may have read the story in the past, Sun & Rose has undergone a re-write! If you're interested in seeing how it might have gone, check out the link below. Otherwise, continue reading and enjoy the show.

https://drive.google.com/folderview?id=0B-a18cYPzVjpbWxkcHozSDlvcUE&usp=sharing

(Be warned, it turned out rather bleak)

Gareth sat cross-legged atop the rug, staring into the crackling fire.

He closed his eyes, gripping his trembling upper arms. The thick, soothing smell of smoke filled his nostrils, drowning out the lingering, burning stench of bile. Styre dropped Gareth's jacket onto his shoulders.

Styre favoured him with a half-smile before turning away.

Gareth sighed, reaching for the waterskin in his lap. He pulled the cap off with his teeth and squeezed; a jet of cool water flooded into his mouth. He was parched and weak; every little bit helped. No, every feeling, however mundane, helped. The last thing he wanted right now was to have to think.

Therefore, he focused on the ponies behind him.

"I'm sorry for barging into your room so late," Styre said.

"No, no, it's fine," Gleaming Horizon whispered. "How is he?"

"I don't know. I just saw him curled up outside, then, well, you know the rest."

Gareth heard Gleaming trot up beside him.

"Gareth… how are you?" Gleaming Horizon murmured, looked at him as though touching him might cause him to shatter into a million pieces. Bitterly, Gareth knew that wasn't far from the truth.

He couldn't bear to turn to her, so Gareth just kept staring forward. The roaring fireplace began to burn a wavy afterimage into his eyes. Noble Era's words just kept hitting him like a smith's hammer.

'Therein lies the problem, doesn't it? You affect her, Gareth, deeply. I've seen it.'

"Gareth?" Gleaming continued.

'But if you stop this façade now, before it’s too late, if you're honest with her, you can prevent this.'

"Leave him. Trust me," Styre warned.

Gareth stared down at his hands. What was he thinking? He drew his blade on Noble Era, and in that moment, he would have gladly slit his throat just to silence him. That urge, that murderous violence, he had tried for years to put it all behind him. It scared Cecilia, the way his body just… took over when threats came.

It was natural, Father said; a man's mind could not be trusted to keep him out of danger, but the Body? The Body could be trusted. From the Body arose instinct; it was the key to a good archer, a good soldier… a good warrior. Gareth wasn't just a good warrior. He was the best.

Yet… Gareth found that he didn't want to be a good warrior anymore. He wanted to be a good husband, Cecilia's husband. She needed the best, but the Body could not be denied. It still reacted; it still seethed, twisting like an angry beast. The harder he tried to suppress it, the stronger it became.

Maybe the ponies were right. 'Ucigas'. Hooved animals were naturally sensitive to predators. Perhaps they knew his nature better than he did. If that was true, then—

The door cracked open.

Gareth turned in place, hand going for his dagger. A grey-coated mare with a puffy pink mane barged through. He immediately breathed a sigh of relief, relaxing his grip; it was just Butter Pie, a friend.

Styre trotted over as well, grinning as he audibly nuzzled his lady-friend. They spoke for a bit, rapidly descending into Equestrian that was both too fast and too advanced for him to understand. Something about ‘cleansing’, ‘hired help’ and ‘courtyard’. He tried his best to follow along but quickly found himself lost. Gareth chuckled; at least their voices were pleasant to listen to.

Gareth stared back into the fire, letting the heat wash over him.

Something warm sat beside him. Butter Pie looked up with a half-lidded smile on her face. A forehoof reached out to his chest, gently tracing the contours of the fine stitch and colours. For a race without hands… he'd never seen any stitch finer.

"It fits you," Butter Pie said slowly. A forehoof carelessly nudged the dagger on his waist.

Biting his lip, Gareth looked down at his belt. The brown leather holster clashed with the entire garment. He slowly drew his dagger, holding the blade in his fingers.

She glanced down at it, still smiling. Gareth could feel Styre's burning glare on the back of his neck.

'This… this has caused more problems than it's solved,' he tried to say. Butter Pie shook her head, giggling slowly.

A forehoof nudged Gareth's head, "Problem." That hoof then poked him in the chest. "Solution."

Butter Pie stood, her kind expression never once faltering. She went over to Styre, his heated gaze cooling by the moment. She whispered something into his ear, sharing a quick nuzzle. Styre nodded once, whispering something back as she left out the door.

Gareth brought his hand up to his chest. His heart thudded softly underneath. Maybe… maybe she was right. Maybe he was overthinking it. With a muted click, the dagger returned to its sheath.

'Gleaming?' Gareth said, turning back to her. 'Is... it okay if I rest here for a bit?'

Gleaming gave him a soft smile, nodding slowly.

That was all Gareth needed. He balled up his jacket, lay down and tucked it under his head. The fire crackled merrily out the corner of his eyes. He rested his eyes for a moment, breathing in deeply.

Styre reclined on Gleaming Horizon's plush bed, gazing out a nearby window.

The panes were well-polished and buffed, giving a perfect mirror view to the outside. Moonlight illuminated the trees. Heck, he could even see Gareth’s little archery range from here. Wait, he could have sworn he saw something moving amidst the roots out there…

Ah, a rat. Butter Pie’s little co-workers were being less than conspicuous. They knew that they weren’t supposed to stay on castle grounds. Officially, Guards were supposed to shoo them out. Of course, officially, Styre was also off-duty.

"C-Celestia," Noble Era's voice came from Gareth's sleeping form.

The fire was beginning to burn low, now barely illuminating the human. Gareth clutched the heavy sheet over his shoulder in his sleep, curling up into a ball. Styre found himself marvelling at the fact that something so tall was able to become so small.

There was a rattle at the door. Styre stood amidst the cushions, glaring.

It creaked open, and the shadow of a hood pushed through. Gleaming Horizon's white snout poked out from underneath it. Styre sighed in relief.

Gleaming silently squeezed through the door, doing her best not to make any noise. She pulled her hood back, her ears poking up. Something was wrong. Even in the dim light, it was easy to see that her eyes were puffy and red. She shook like a leaf, leaning up against door as it creaked closed.

The bed rasped as Styre crawled off it. "Gleaming, what's wrong?" Styre asked, looking her over for injuries.

Gleaming Horizon stifled a gasp as her eyes wildly flicked over him. After a few moments, her chest finally stopped heaving. She bit her lip, unable to look him in the eye.

"P-Princess Celestia, she's cry—" Gleaming's eyes widened. She shook her head, clearing her throat. "She's… thinking deeply in her room. She wouldn't answer me."

"I see," Styre said, glancing to Gareth. The conversation had not awoken him yet. "Then we're on our own with him. Alright, look; it's nearly dawn, and I'm not exaggerating when I say that he eats like a pack of hungry colts. I'm going to go down to kitchens to get him some breakfast. Gar-eth looks like he could use some cheering up."

"Gar-eth," Gleaming whispered, following Styre's gaze. "I— I know it sounds a little strange, but why do you call him that? Doesn't he go by Grey Spear now?"

Styre smiled ruefully, "We don't speak each other's language, but trust me; we understand each other. I've been around him longer than most. He… he reminds me a lot of my brother. Aloof, stubborn and self-defeating… but he knows that, and he's trying to change. Still, there's a limit to how much you can change yourself. To me, I don't think he'll ever be comfortable being a pony, that's why he'll always be Gar-eth to me."

Gareth let out a tired groan, blearily looking up at them.

"What's going on?" Noble Era's voice came from his mouth.

"Oh...um," Gleaming twitched, glancing at the door behind her, "Styre was going to get food. Do you understand, Grey--" Gleaming glanced at Styre, "Uh… do you understand, Gar-eth?"

Gareth's head bobbed tiredly before turning back and returning his head to his jacket.

Styre smiled. Well, time to get those bagels. He turned towards the door and reached out for the—

The handle was already twisting.

Styre frowned, stepping back as the door creaked back open.

In the doorway stood a Uni-guard in full regalia. Styre knew it well; elaborate golden barding with a white crest and tail, topped off by a grey glamour on the coat. He glared into Uni-guard's amber eyes, trying to place the facial structure.

The Uni-guard looked confused for a moment, glancing over Styre's shoulders. Unable to notice anything else, he finally settled on glaring at Styre.

"Earth-guard Styre, what are you doing here?" the Uni-guard asked. Styre recognised the voice.

"Flash Bang," Styre ground out. He felt the fur on the back of his neck stick up. A gnawing feeling in his gut set in; something was not right here. "I could ask you the same thing."

"Flash Bang?" Gleaming Horizon asked. She walked over to the doorway, glancing between them with a genuinely curious expression.

Suddenly, Flash Bang's expression shifted from a condescending glare to a joyful smile.

"Gleaming Horizon, you're required to come with us," he said in a polite but firm tone. "Princess Celestia has requested your presence immediately."

"Oh! I see Flash Bang, I'll jus—" Gleaming glanced back at Gareth. Her face fell, ears drooping. "Oh… I'm sorry, I can't go right now. Please tell the Princess that I'm tending to a VIP. She'll understand."

The smile vanished from Flash Bang's face; he took a sudden step forward.
"I'm afraid that she won't, you need to come with me right—"

CRACK

Hoof on wood resounded through the room as Styre slammed his forehoof into the wooden doorway. He stared down Flash Bang with violence in his eyes.

"Surely for such an important mission you'd have the proper paperwork, right?" Styre ground out. Something was about to go wrong; his instincts were screaming at him. He held his other forehoof out, gesturing for a scroll. "So, how about those papers?"

Flash Bang's glamoured eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets. Styre waited for him to strike first.

Then, just as quickly, Flash Bang relented, looking more disappointed than frustrated.

"I was hoping I wouldn't need to resort to this, but this is urgent, Styre," he said, taking a step to the side.

That was when the other Uni-guard from down the hall stepped into view, his horn crackling with silver energy.

Styre tried to drop, but it was too late.

A ball of lightning smashed into Styre's chest, sweeping him off his hooves. He slammed into the stone wall behind him, sliding down and collapsing to the floor in a heap. A metallic taste filled his mouth as he struggled to get back up. The smell of burning reached his nose while the crippling stun spell coursed through his twitching body.

He saw Flash Bang step through the doorway, four other ponies stepped through, all dressed in E.U.P uniforms. Two unicorns, two earth ponies. He could hear Gleaming Horizon's horrified scream. Yet Styre could barely get himself to stop spasming let alone get back up.

"You brought this upon yourself—" Flash Bang did not get to finish, cut off by a rustle of cloth and a warcry.

He turned to the left, only to have a dark blue jacket slap onto his face.

Flash Bang shrieked, pawing at the jacket with his forehooves. A rip of cloth followed as his horn tore a hole in the middle, further holding it in place. Sparks of blue energy flew about, starting spot fires on the once immaculate design.

One of the Uni-guards lowered his horn and charged Gareth, silver magic sparkling along it. The human saw it coming.

Gareth shifted to a nearby bookcase, grabbing one side and wrenching it down onto the pony. Cracking wood joined rustling pages as the Uni-guard’s horn penetrated into one of the shelves, pinning him in place… right underneath it. He creaked and twisted wildly, struggling in vain.

Gleaming Horizon's screams grew louder, her hooves clattering across the floor as she tried to escape the melee.

Styre's legs finally began to listen as he struggled to his hooves. He looked up just in time to watch as Flash Bang's now furiously swishing horn light up; a familiar blue lightning arched up and down. The Uni-guard looked ready to let out a burst somewhere in Gareth's direction.

A crimson light began to glow around the jacket's sleeves, they pulled underneath Flash Bang's jaw, drawing into a bow. With a yank, it dragged his face to the ground. Gleaming grit her teeth, her horn glowing an identical colour as she tried her best to keep control.

Another Uni-Guard's horn lit up green, leveling it at Gleaming.

Styre willed his shaking body into a charge.

Only to have the two Earth-guards tackle him mid-leap. They slammed their forehooves into his body at full force, blossoms of pain followed by waves of nausea. Styre could barely keep standing let alone fight them off.

There was a clatter and a creak as Gareth grabbed a nearby broomstick and stepped up onto the fallen bookcase. He lept into the air, roaring with the stick held high. The broomstick splintered on impact as he slammed it over the Uni-guard's head. The force alone drove the now-stunned guard to the floor.

The first Earth-guard assaulting him looked up at Gareth.

Styre punched her in the face. She tumbled back, falling into the still-struggling Flash Bang. Seizing her chance, Gleaming telekinetically grabbed her blanket from the floor and engulfed the mare in it.

After bouncing her off a few of the walls, the Earth-guard within stopped struggling.

Suddenly outnumbered, the second Earth-guard's ears dropped, backpedalling to the door. Too late. Gareth strode ahead of him, slamming the heavy wooden door down on him. Once, twice, three times and the stallion crumbled to the floor in a groaning heap.

With a cry of victory, Flash Bang ripped the jacket off his face… only to have a hoof replace it. Rushing forward, Styre tackled Flash Bang to the ground, grabbing his neck into a headlock. Within moments, and several meaty thwacks, Flash Bang was very, very unconscious.

The sound of belabored breathing filled the room as all three warily looked about.

Gleaming Horizon murmured mindlessly, pressing up against a wall. The Earth-guard filled bag followed her as she slid down; staring forward amidst the wreckage that once was her room.

"Traitors," Gareth growled. He booted Flash Bang in the gut, eliciting a pained groan from the Uni-guard.

Styre shrugged, still huffing. Maybe they were, or maybe this was all just a big miscommunication. In either case, they were their problem for now. He rubbed his still stinging eyes. Bloody stun spells.

A dark expression crossed Gareth's face. He walked over to Flash Bang's side and pulled his dagger. Going down on one knee, he grabbed the pony by the scruff of his mane. The tip of his blade positioned itself just over the base of Flash Bang's horn…

"Gar-eth, NO!" Styre yelled, running in front of him.

Gareth gave him an incredulous look, "Why not? They just tried to kill us! How else can I disarm him?"

"No they weren't, that was a stunning spell!" Styre knew that Gareth didn't understand his words, but his gestures got the point across. "THAT is NOT how we do things here. Now, put that thing away!"

Gareth glowered at Styre.

Styre glared straight back.

After a few moments, Gareth growled, throwing Flash Bang back to the floor. He stood, loudly hocking up a wad of spit on the Uni-guard's face.

The dagger went back into its sheath.

Gareth heaved 'Flash Bang' into the corner of the room, stacking him atop his comrades.

Over the course of five minutes, only one of them struggled. The one from underneath the bookshelf still had some fight in him. A swift punch to the face put him under.

Waving his stinging hand about. These ponies could take an impressive amount of punishment. Given their size, he should have broken a bone or at least blooded an eye. The trick, it seemed, was that they went under quite quickly if one struck them about the head.

Styre consoled Gleaming behind his back, but he couldn't even try to comprehend them right now. His blood was pumping and the rush of combat had been just the thing to bring him back to wakefulness. Yet, wakefulness only came with more questions. These were clearly Equestrian guards that had attacked them. Equestrian politics were something that eluded him, it was clear that something was deeply wrong here.

Distant thunder erupted all over the castle. Gareth clenched his teeth; the unicorn's sorceries made the same noise. The sound of iron shots reverberated in his head. The walls would not protect him.

Gareth placed a hand over his chest, willing his heart to slow. No, not now. He wasn't a coward. Cecilia needed him. Just breathe; breathe as she told him to.

Wait… the guards turning on their own. They assaulted a lady-in-waiting, the prince-consort and a man-at-arms. Ah… of course. Gareth knew what this was, he understood this. For the first time in a long time, he understood.

'Betrayal… I have experience in this,' he forced himself to say, turning to Styre and Gleaming Horizon. They looked equally confused. 'Styre, we need to get going. The castle is turning against itself and we need to separate the loyal from the disloyal. We have to gather the leaders of Equestria together.'

Styre cocked a brow.

'Trust me, Styre. We need to go while we still can.'

To that, Styre shrugged his shoulders, waving a foreleg around in sarcastic confusion.

Gareth stroked his chin, 'This is having limitations. I need a better translator.'

What about Cecilia? She would be the most likely target—

His lips still burned. The taste, the texture.

—she… no, she would be fine without him. She had to be.

'Noble Era has the other side of my Ambassador's pill and he's also part of the leadership. That's where we're going next.'

Styre pointed to Gleaming Horizon, giving him a questioning look. She didn't look too good.

'Yes… you're right, it's dangerous. What's more, I don't know if he's a threat or not. Gleaming, can you make your way to Cecilia?'

Styre snorted angrily, giving him an incredulous glare.

"It-it's okay, Styre," Gleaming said, patting the stallion on the shoulder. She looked to him with a brittle nod. "I will go to Cecilia. You will be safe. Do you understand?"

Gleaming tried her best to put on a brave face, but it was clear she was scared. Letting her go alone was a mistake, but so was bringing her into danger. What choice did they have? Someone had to inform Cecilia about what just happened.

'Yes, I do,' Gareth walked over to the door, pulling it open. 'C'mon Styre, we've work to do.'

Chaose engulfed the castle. Guard fought Guard in Canterlot's halls while Gareth and Styre did their best to work their way past.

By now, Gareth's stolen broom had long since been reduced to splinters. He now hefted about a solid, golden, two-metre long candleholder. The head had been bent over a belligerent Pega-guard's neck. The weapon matched the wielder, unfortunately. Blood trailed down from Gareth's temple from a Pega-guard's flying hoof.

They had been running for what seemed like hours. Styre's insistent body language assured him that they were getting close.

More thunder echoed from down the hall. This time it was close. Styre picked up his pace, pulling ahead. The faint smell of gunpowder wafted on the air, either real or imagined. Gareth wanted nothing more than to simply turn and run in the opposite direction.

Then the thunder stopped. Even the distant cries of battle were drowned out by hoofsteps and hurried breathing.

Suddenly Styre skidded to a halt, hind legs kicking up against carpet.

A heavy iron door had been burst inwards. A huge dent, around pony-bucking height, had almost bent it in half. He thought it was metal fatigue at first, but no, in the middle of the dent was a mural, depicting twelve unicorns arrayed in a circle around the sun.

'Noble Era's room?' Gareth asked.

Styre grunted in an affirmative, glaring inside.

The room reminded him of Father Clemens’ study… or a tinker's shop. Well, at least it would, had it not been completely trashed.

Bookshelves, once overflowing with scrolls, books and all manner of strange contraptions, now had their contents upturned and tossed. Glass cabinets, still filled with strange, glowing curios, masks, weapons and other miscellanea, were shattered from battle damage, not theft. What was likely a well-ordered desk was now buried in scattered papers. The only calm in this storm was a humble bed, resting in the corner, undamaged by the melee.

'Damn it, too late,' Gareth cursed, stepping inside. He threw out his hand. 'Take a minute to look around. Let's make sure that he's not here. Then we're heading to Colonel Purple Dart.'

Styre nodded. He planted his nose to the charred carpet and started sniffing.

A row of lights flashed out the corner of Gareth's eye.

He stepped to one side, thrusting the broken candleholder forward. The lights didn't move. Instead, they only shed a gentle light upon their resting places; a series of white keys. Wait, he recognised this; this was like the pipe organ in Rockingham's church! Well… excepting that it was far smaller and only had two keyboards.

Instead of a hymnbook, there were pages upon pages of mathematical equations resting in the stand atop it. It was heavily annotated, and looked rather hastily drawn. Perhaps Noble Era was not a master at his craft.

Before he even realised what he was doing, Gareth struck a key.

"Hello," a voice said.

Gareth jumped, stepping back. That was in English. Who said that? Wait... was that the Organ?

He struck the same key again, "Hello."

That was the organ. He struck more. "Hello." "Pony." "Therefore." "I bring you friendship."

'What the hell,' Gareth muttered.

"Gar-eth!" Styre said, pointing over to study table.

Gareth nodded, walking over. Notes and hastily scribbled sketches littered the surface. He recognised a few of the drawings. One of them depicted Gareth's armour, annotated with lines pointing to towards gaps and other weaknesses. There were a lot of lines.

Another sketch was of his rough-made longbow. Alongside it, seemingly for comparison, was a squat recurve bow; a Saracen’s bow.

Styre grunted loudly. He tugged at Gareth's sleeve and pointed up a solitary unbroken glass case.

Held inside was the same bow from the drawing. Unstrung, the curved edges naturally pulled forward in a 'c'. The bow's string hung off a nail hammered into the case, seemingly ready to be used at any time. Beside it, was a set of five arrows. Each of them glowed with a gentle white light.

Gareth walked over, glancing to either side of the case. No obvious latch. He smiled at Styre, who smirked right back. Gareth hefted his candleholder and swung it.

The glass shattered, shards sprinkling off his boots. A metal thud joined it as Gareth tossed the candleholder aside.

The bowstave was light; he wasted no time in stringing it. Stubborn but supple limbs marked it as good quality. There was a set of engravings at the front: two diamonds facing away from each other. He guessed that’s where he was meant to nock an arrow. Going further, he saw that surrounding them both was a set of dog's teeth.

Sorcerous arrows… how well did they fly? Gareth grabbed one and feed it through. He pulled back, testing the draw strength. Unfortunately, it barely burnt his back muscles, even at full draw. Not as strong as he liked it, but it would suffice.

Styre let out a frustrated growl, pointing insistently at the door.

Gareth pulled the arrow out, 'You're right, this is getting us nowhere. Come on, let's—'

A pinprick of light appeared in front of both Styre and Gareth's faces.

The sound of scattering papers filled the air as the light unravelled into a parchment. An image of a map glowed through the parchment, a pulsing golden light shining near the middle. After a few moments, Gareth recognised it; it was a map of Equestria, specifically, of Canterlot.

Then it spoke to him in Noble Era's voice. Gareth only understood part of it, something to do with 'help'. The message continued, this time in in a growling, dog-like language. Then a shrieking, chittering, almost bird-like tongue.

Then it came in a language he recognised, "I am in danger. Please, help me." English. Just like the organ.

The glowing spot began to crawl through the streets of Canterlot, away from the castle and towards the main gates. Gareth recognised the direction, Noble Era was going out the same way he had first entered Canterlot.

Gareth grabbed his scroll, looking over the map. Styre looked up at him, nodding firmly.

'Let's go,' Gareth snapped it closed.

Stone walls and candle-lit halls turned into cobblestone roads and moonlit streets.

The dot was moving far, far faster than it should have been. At first, he wondered why, stopping every so often only to see it erratically shoot off down a long, narrow street. They had their answer soon; Noble Era was either strapped to, or escaping in, a cart.

The distinction was semantics to Gareth. Innocent or guilty, Noble Era wasn't leaving Canterlot. That was what his mind pounded into him even as the burning in his lungs began to spread throughout his body.

A wooden cart, surrounded by five galloping pony guards, blazed out in front of him. Gareth and Styre cursed as it clattered down the main street. So much for cutting them off.

The two of them rounded the corner only to see the cart heading straight for the gates.

Styre bolted down the street. He screamed something in Equestrian at the guards atop the battlements. They looked down at the rapidly approaching cart, saluted quickly, and vanished back into the guardhouse. Within a few seconds, the gates started screaming down.

The cart wasn't stopping.

One of the Earth-guards lost his nerve, veering off to the side and into a back alley. The rest held strong, picking up speed. Even as iron shrieked against iron, the lead pony only dashed faster, peeling through.

The metal teeth stabbed down into the ground, missing the cart by scant feet.

Gareth grit his teeth. He and Styre rushed up the stairwell leading to the guardhouse. They stopped themselves just at the side of the walls, watching the cart and the false-guards escape away into the night.

It wasn't all that far to the ground from here. Perhaps if he jumped just right…

Gareth fed the arrows into his belt and lept off the side. The frosty soil rushed up to meet him. His knees buckled, grunting as struggled back up, stumbling out of the garden and over to the edge of the wooden drawbridge.

He plucked an arrow from his belt and nocked it. Arching high in the moon-light sky, he tried to recall long-since buried instincts. An image of a mounted knight formed in his mind's eye. They were already over 100 yards away, and every second added a dozen yards to that count. Even his longbow couldn't reach beyond 400…

Cree-ek.

"Sagittæ tuæ acutæ, populi sub te cadent, in corda inimicorum regis," he muttered under his breath.

Thwip!

He fired. The arrow flew high into the sky, and then dipped down.

It fell short, a cloud of dust kicking up as it exploding into the ground behind them. That detonation though…

Cree-ek.

He nocked another; 225 yards away.

"Sol et luna steterunt in habitaculo suo : in luce sagittarum tuarum ibunt, in splendore fulgurantis hastæ tuæ." The sweat and saliva mixed in his mouth.

Thwip!

He fired again. It flew through the sky, trailing white light in an arc. Too far, it slammed into the side of a tree, tearing a gouge out if it. The tree let out a distant groan, collapsing under its own weight.

The cart sped on ahead. 345 yards.

Gareth's hands trembled. This was it, if he couldn't make this next shot… he tried to think of a verse, any verse, that could help him focus. He found none.

Cree-ek.

"Please God… help me." His fingers burned.

Thwip!

The arrow streaked up and into the night sky. One second, two seconds, three seconds, four… it finally began to fall, flying through the sky like a shooting star.

Gareth held his breath. It was close; the arrow was right on course. They were headed right for it.

The arrow slammed into the ground ahead of the cart. They vanished into the cloud of dust.

A second later the cart pulled through, dust clinging to their wake. They didn't even slow down.

Gareth felt the breath vanish from his lungs. He failed.

Boom. Another blast of thunder.

A distant light burned above Canterlot's skies, just on the edges of his vision. Orange, gold and white, it painted itself across the heavens in flight. Suddenly, it turned at a right angle, heading straight towards the cart. Was that…?

His legs moved before he could complete the thought. He grabbed the remaining arrows from his belt, putting one between his teeth and feeding in the other. Heavy leather boots kicked up soil and gravel as he rushed forward.

The golden light shone like a beacon, illuminating the area like a bonfire. Distant cries of fear and battle were snuffed out almost instantly. Soon, only the tell-tale jingle of magic could be heard.

It could not be true. After a lifetime of prayer, had He finally answered?

Gareth flattened up against a nearby tree, glancing out the side for but a moment. The light was bright, far too bright. He had heard the stories. Men turned to ash for staring upon the Most High's true form. He would do well to avoid their fates.

With his eyes pinned to the ground and screwed tightly shut, Gareth stepped out the side, his bow and arrows held up in either hand. Even closed and averted it was as if he was gazing into the sun.

The heavenly host let out an almost feminine gasp

'Holy, holy, holy is the Lord, God Almighty. Your most unworthy servant gives praise to the Lord!' Gareth tried to say in the pony's tongue. He fell to his knees, prostrating himself. This was what Clemens always did whenever a relic of God passed before him. Hopefully he was displaying the right level of respect.

Seconds passed. Seconds turned into dozens, which came close to a minute. A cold pit formed in Gareth's stomach. Did he do something wrong?

Someone cleared their throat. Was that one of the guards? Gareth swore that he would beat them back into unconsciousness for this insol—

"Uh, Gareth…" he recognised the voice.

Wait a minute. Golden light, flying, extreme power… all coming from Canterlot.

'…Oh, fucking hell.' Gareth opened his eyes.

Celestia stood beside the cart, surrounded by a half-dozen unconscious guards. The cart's wheels had been popped off as if it was a toy.

She nervously looked down at him, chewing the corner of her lip. He knew that look, she was a moment away from bursting out laughing.

They stared at each other for a few moments.

Gareth sighed, groaning as he buried his face in a palm. He grit his teeth, half out of embarrassment and half to avoid grinning like a relieved simpleton.

'So… how was your night?' he decided, stepping over to the side of the cart.

"I've… had worse," Celestia replied, bobbing her head. Her horn lit up, tugging away the latches on the tarp. "You?"

'…I've had worse,' Gareth agreed, pulling off the tarp.

Underneath, a beaten, bruised and bound Noble Era lay unconscious.

Chapter 9: Research & sketches

Author's Notes:

This is a notice to those people who have been following the story for a while.

S&R has undergone a re-write! Read from chapter 8 onwards to get the full story. The rest of the story remains largely untouched except for an exchange in chapter 5 between Celestia and Noble Era.

Otherwise? Please, continue and enjoy!

The castle was quiet now. A pair of heavy leather bootsteps and hoof-falls echoed throughout the otherwise silent stone corridor.

Rays of morning sunlight filtered through stained glass windows. Gareth couldn't bring himself to stop and take a look at the no doubt elaborate stories the pictures held. He was tired, bloodied and carried an injured load that was in worse shape than he was.

At least they were easier to carry than Celestia. Gareth stopped, shrugging the slung pony a little more over his shoulder. Noble Era's head lolled forward, idly twisting in unconsciousness. Occasionally, his greased-back mane brushed a sweet-smelling oil across Gareth's cheek. Greasy and messy, yes, but at least he was not struggling to walk.

"Styre?" Gareth said, glancing over his shoulder.

Styre looked up at him, quirking an eyebrow. Perhaps it was because Styre was not carrying a heavy pony, but he did not look as tired as Gareth felt. They had both walked all the way back to the castle. No chariot, no escort, neither of them wanted to risk it or draw attention to themselves. After last night's events, no one was above suspicion.

They turned right, into a hallway that Gareth had only vanishingly remembered from a week ago. The red cross over Doctor Legata's office was still there. He peeked inside the open doorway, spotting that same clear bed.

Styre went in first, glancing about the room. He sniffed urgently, scowling at the corners. Within a few seconds, his shoulders and ears relaxed. Finally, he turned to Gareth, gesturing him inside.

Gareth wasted no time. With a weak grunt, he gently laid Noble Era down. Unfortunately, spreading out the injured pony posed a unique problem. How did ponies lie down? Celestia seemed to be able to bend her legs out at impossible angles for an equine. Gareth knew damn well that normal horses couldn't do that. Yet, Era seemed almost comfortable when lying straight.

Gareth shook his head, stepping back. Noble Era was hurt, but so was he. What's more, his hands were filthy. He would need to clean himself up before beginning.

Suddenly, Doctor Legata was standing behind him.

"Fu-!" Gareth spat, stumbling back. A pair of angry pink eyes glared up at him, then to the patient laid down on her observation bed. She must have come out of the room adjacent to this one, or from the hall. Even Styre looked a little startled at her appearance.

Legata brushed past Gareth's leg, nudging him out of the way. Rearing back, she placed her forelegs on the side of the bed and looked Noble Era up and down. The red cross cutie mark twitched with her flank as she leaned forward. A moment later, she turned away, nodding in satisfaction.

She turned to Gareth, glaring at his chest, then up to the side of his head. Gareth grimaced, remembering the Pega-guard's hoof strike. He reached up to his chest, idly dabbing two fingers in his still-damp shirt. The blood had turned brown by this point. Head wounds always gushed, no matter how small they were. This one had stopped a while ago. Unfortunately, explaining to a physician that a wound wasn’t as bad as it seemed was never easy. Now he had to try it through a language barrier.

Her horn lit up in pink.

Gareth caught his hand just in time, resting on his dagger's hilt instead of drawing it.

A moment later, the magic aura wrapped around Gareth's body. This was one of the many spells he had been subjected to when they had first met. She needed to resort to her small instrument to read Gareth's heart rate in the end. Why did she bother?

Styre trotted over to Legata, speaking a few words to her in Equestrian. Her lips curled in distaste, glaring back at Gareth. She nodded after a few moments, the aura fading into nothing. She muttered a few words back. With a haughty sniff, she turned back to Noble Era, gently turning his limbs over.

Gareth sighed in relief, giving Styre a thankful smile.

Styre smirked back, heading over to a closet. He pulled it open, rooting through a few of the shelves before pulling out some blankets. With his teeth, he dragged them over to the corner of the room and set them out. Sighing, he tucked his forehoof underneath his chin and laid down.

The closet held shelf after shelf of concoctions and herbs. If they weren't in clearly marked bottles, it would have looked like a chef's pantry. Gareth stepped towards it, gingerly pulling one of the shelves forward with his clean hand.

This one seemed to hold plant products. Strange roots, stems and leaves were held inside small jars and bottles. Something glinted light into Gareth's eye. A shiny oval shape rested near the back; a hand mirror.

Gareth lifted it to his face, getting a good look at himself. He wish he hadn't. Dried blood ran down the side of his face like solidified gravy off the side of a dinner table. Brown stains covered the right jaw-piece of his head guard. Christ, Cecilia was going to kill him.

His shirt was in no better condition. Blood had soaked through most of it, trailing down to his navel. Oh God, what about his jacket? That luscious, expensive, tailored jacket. Cecilia had specially commissioned all this for him; there was not anything else like it in the land. He had destroyed it in a single day and night.

Heavy hoofsteps came to a halt at the doorway causing Gareth's ears to prick up. Only one pony sounded like that.

There she was, still just as naked as three hours ago. What's more, she was huffing. Had she ran all the way here? God, he could smell her from here, her natural musk even stronger than last night. An unfamiliar cocktail of perfumes wafted along with it, possibly a last-minute attempt at hiding it.

Cecilia's eyes widened as she finally caught sight of him. Those eyes immediately traced from his temple to his shirt. Her muzzle twisted as she strode forward in a mixture of worry and disappointment.

"I'm fine," Gareth said, holding up a palm. That did not stop her.

"Thank goodness you're speaking English again," Cecilia said. Her white, unadorned forehoof reached forward, tracing around his injured head. "You're still bleeding; I thought I told you to take care of that?"

"I am," Gareth turned around, pulling out another shelf. Then another... then another. He leaned back, glaring at Legata's apathetic back, "Where do they keep the honey and ale? I thought her medicine was supposed to be advanced!"

"Gareth, here, let me." Cecilia's long white horn glowed gold as it brushed close to the wound. The sound of magic rang in his ear. "This might hurt a touch."

A sensation like fingertips tapped across his temple. At first it didn't hurt, then they got closer, and closer to his wound. Suddenly, pain spiked through his head. Gareth grit his teeth, willing himself not to cry out. Whatever she was doing, it felt like something was pinching his wound shut. Hard.

"It'll be over soon," Cecilia whispered. Gareth's headguard slowly slid up and off his head, hanging itself on a nearby rack. A roll of gauze hovered from the shelf and into view, quickly wrapping around Gareth's head.

At once, the fingers released. The pain began to subside.

"There, it's done. How does that feel?"

Gareth sucked air through his teeth, pressing a hand up to his injured temple. "Ergh… better," he admitted.

"Good," Cecilia sighed in relief.

"Cecilia, do you know what happened last night?"

Only now did Gareth notice just how tired she looked. Her eyes were half-lidded, gazing off into nothing. Both her ears and her head hung low. All were tell-tale signs of fatigue in horses.

"Cecilia?" Gareth touched her shoulder.

She jolted, looking up at him, "Ah! I— oh… pardon me." Her shoulders sagged while she chewed her lower lip. "Gareth, Canterlot has just suffered an attempted coup. One fourth of the Royal Guard just betrayed their oaths."

Gareth's stomach plummeted. He was right: this was betrayal. It was betrayal of the highest order. His hand clenched. This would require careful action. Not exactly his strong suit.

Neither Legata nor Styre moved at this revelation. Gareth blinked once. Oh, right. They were speaking English, of course they would not understand. Still, Legata's ears were facing in this direction, and Styre looked like he was only pretending to be asleep.

"I'm sorry, Cecilia," he said. He wanted to say more. God damn it, he wanted to say more.

Cecilia looked away. She was physically close right now, but emotionally she was still so distant. He just wished he could hug her, hold her, and tell her everything was going to be okay.

'You can't even accept a kiss without vomiting over yourself'

Gareth's fist clenched tighter. Wait, he was forgetting something, "Gleaming? Uh, is Gleaming Horizon okay? Did she make it to you alright?"

"Huh?" Cecilia blinked, "Oh yes, she did! I almost didn't answer my door a second time, but she made it."

"Good, but… is she alright?"

Suddenly, Cecilia's eyes widened. Her ears swept back as she stared at Gareth for a few seconds, gauging his expression. "She… had to fight her way past some traitorous guards. In the fighting, they managed to injure her. She'll recover, though; it's just a broken leg."

'You have no 'plan', no idea, no clue of what you're doing.'

The gnawing in his stomach got worse.

"I should have never let her go alone," Gareth whispered under his breath.

"Gareth," Cecilia placed a forehoof on his shoulder. "Gleaming is a strong unicorn in her own right. You did the best you could. We all did."

"Yeah, I guess so." Gareth still could not meet her eyes. "God, fuck last night. It's a miracle we all escaped as uninjured as we did let alone with our lives. Things could have gone so much worse."

Silence. Only the sound of Legata's ringing magic and Styre's fake snores filled it.

"Gareth… about what happened last night," Cecilia started softly, leaning over to try to meet his gaze.

Seconds went by, Gareth did not answer. Feelings of heat, betrayal, and the taste of Cecilia's kiss filled his mouth. God damn it.

Gareth sighed, wiping his palm across his face, "Cecilia… we'll talk about it later. Okay?"

"…Alright."

"Princess Celestia?" Doctor Legata turned, addressing Cecilia in Equestrian.

Cecilia reluctantly turned away from Gareth. They exchanged hushed whispers. Gareth tried his best to follow along, but was swept away by whatever it was that Doctor Legata was saying. It was all too technical and rapid. If anything, Legata seemed to sound as if she was the one inconvenienced by Noble Era's injuries.

"What's going on?" Gareth interjected after a minute, stepping up alongside Cecilia.

"He's comatose, nothing is waking him up," Cecilia said, a flash of concern on her face. "I can't understand is why they treated him like this. None of the other victims were hurt so badly."

"Maybe he knew something that we didn't," Gareth began. "Last nig— I mean, early this morning, I tried to find Noble Era. I went to his room first, and while I was there, I saw all manner of strange instruments and information. Most of it was on humans."

Cecilia's frown grew confused, but no less severe, "Humans?"

Gareth nodded, relaying what he saw.

"A pipe organ that speaks English? Notes on human armour?" Cecilia murmured, trying to process it all. "Noble Era did all that? Why?"

"Perhaps preparing for interaction with more humans? If I were Noble Era, I wouldn't think that I was last human he'd ever see. Well, maybe, I don't know enough to be certain," Gareth added, scratching the back of his neck.

"He may have learnt about the Crystal Mirror," Cecilia muttered to herself. "Do you think that's why he was targeted?"

Gareth blinked, "Uh, perhaps? Then again, we have no idea what these traitors actually wanted besides trying to kidnap people. All I have are wild guesses right now."

The sound of shifting cloth filled the room as Noble Era started twisting in place. Legata looked over him, attempting to pin him down by the shoulders. Her horn lit up pink, this time the magic seeming to wind up to something big. She looked to Gareth, waving him over.

"Not this again," Gareth grumbled, moving to position and grabbing Noble Era.

Noble Era started moaning mindlessly about theft and begging for forgiveness. Did he lose something?

"He was delirious the whole way here. Muttering, groaning," Gareth explained, looking over to Cecilia.

Cecilia nodded slowly. She leaned down to Legata, speaking a few words into her ear. Legata nodded back, leaning her now flaming pink horn to Era's cheek. The magic began to drain into him. Quickly, he went slack. A goofy smile crawled along his face.

"He'll be fine," Cecilia relayed.

"Good for him," Gareth shrugged, releasing Era's legs and stepping away. "Unfortunately for us, until he wakes up, he isn't telling us anything. Still… maybe that's not a bad place to start. Cecilia, a question: were the other representatives attacked?"

"Yes, of course," she said. "Colonel Purple Dart made short work of them, and Mr. Larms only suffered a black eye. Noble Era was the only one taken; then again, he was the only one that was alone at the time. Why, what are you thinking?"

"What I'm thinking is that this attack may have had more than one objective," Gareth continued, furrowing his brow in thought. "Look, those ponies weren't subtle, they could have taken anything from Noble Era's room. It's what I would have done; make a whole lot of mess, try to throw someone off your trail. Hell, if what you told me is true, this whole 'coup' is starting to look a lot less straightforward than it seems."

Cecilia blinked. "Less straightforward? Are you serious? They managed to turn a fourth of my own guard against me and then attempted to kidnap several key ponies! This was clearly a coup attempt!"

Gareth shrugged again, "I'm just saying. If this was really a coup attempt, then why didn't they attack you directly? When you get right down to it, pony politics aren't really all that different to human politics. Do you remember what I told you about the Civil war?"

"The War of the Roses?"

Gareth grimaced, "You know I hate it when you call it that. But yes, two houses fought over control of the throne of England. The war began not because of men's greed, although that was a factor, but because of one critical element: perceived weakness. Men thought that King Henry the Sixth – Lord bless his soul – was weak. Whether that was true or not, it came about with the same result: a civil war. The same thing is happening here and now."

Cecilia's ears folded back as her eyes widened in dread, "G-Gareth?"

Gareth licked his lip, willing himself to continue, "A friend of mine told me 'thought makes the world'. The way we perceive each other and ourselves changes them. Cecilia, your people have had their faith rocked by your disappearance, they don't know what to think about you anymore. Your enemies are capitalising on that. But… your people still have hope for you! That's why your enemies can't attack you directly, because they need to destroy your image, utterly, before they can hope to take control of Equestria. Your best response to this is to show them the truth; that you are a strong, just and kind leader."

"Gareth, I've been doing the best that I can," Cecilia murmured. "I'm not sure how much I can do."

"There is. There has to be. Now… I know that remembering is hard for you, but surely, this has happened before. Someone must have tried to take control from you. What you should do is research your past, see how you dealt with that situation. You haven't been Queen for over four hundred years for nothing."

"There was one time my rule has been challenged," Cecilia said, glancing away. "But that was different."

"Well, it's somewhere to start." Gareth chuckled, crossing his arms. "Let me guess, you've never left Equestria before, have you?"

"No… I haven't."

His smile broadened, "Let me tell you something. I haven't been here long, but one thing has made itself clear to me. They love you, Cecilia. They believe that you are their leader, and I know that you can be. This attack was one born of desperation because your people still hold hope. Don't you see? You're winning, and they don't like that. Just stand strong for a little while longer, remain yourself, love your people, and they will return it ten-fold."

Cecilia blinked, looking him up and down, "Is this… good political advice? Gareth, I thought you were bad at politics. Should I really be listening to you?" She suddenly smiled. Finally.

Gareth put on a show of mock offense, "Hey, what I said was that it wasn't my forte. Even an idiot can learn from blunt-force experience."

"Speaking of blunt-force learning, I'm doing some of that myself. Gleaming has taken me to the Canterlot Library, and, well, there are some books there," Cecilia sighed, glancing to the sky out the window. The tone of voice was familiar, as was the pain.

"Gareth, can you accompany me as I read them? Please?" Cecilia asked. Her brow softened.

"This is about your sister, isn't it?"

"Yes," Cecilia hung her head. "I know that I never told you the full story, but—"

"—and you don't need to," Gareth smiled, reaching out to her, cupping her cheek. She was warm and soft even through his thick leather glove. "I've got secrets too. We tell each other when we we're ready, remember?"

"Princess Celestia!" An unfamiliar voice came from the doorway. Standing in it was a black-coated pegasus wearing a blue uniform: a Wonderbolt. The hail was followed by yet more official-sounding, rapid-fire Equestrian.

"They're calling for me." Cecilia said, regretfully pulling away.

Pain spiked in Gareth's chest. No, he couldn't leave it at that. Not this time.

"Wait," Gareth walked up to her.

She met his awkward stare, questioning him. Gareth bit his lip. God, he hoped she wouldn't misinterpret this.

He squeezed his eyes shut, opened his arms wide and wrapped them around her. Cecilia immediately seized up. A horse's coat wasn't skin, but she was warm and soft. The smell of sweat was thick, but among the cocktail of perfumes masking it he could detect rose, cinnamon and sandalwood; the kind she wore back in Rockingham. His fingertips massaged her withers, idly imagining them to be the small of her back. If he tried, then…

"Cecilia, I love you," Gareth whispered in his wife's ear. "You know that, right?"

There was a hitch in Cecilia's throat. She idly rubbed her furry, elongated cheek across his.

"I do. I just wish I could hear you say it more."

That hurt.

Leather boots on brick met Gareth's ear in a dull monotony. He mentally plotted out a course through the castle that would take him back to Cecilia's room. Perhaps he ought to flop into Cecilia's wonderfully padded bed instead of that Spartan cot. Truth be told, he was more interested in being near somewhere that smelled like Cecilia right now.

Gareth suppressed a yawn. The energy from all that excitement had long since run out. Was this all it took to tire him out these days? He remembered being able to stay up for two days at a time while hunting. God, he must be getting old.

Yet, even though his limbs felt like they were made of lead, his mind would not follow suit. Noble Era's sketches haunted him. That was a lot of research to perform on a lark, and Noble Era did not seem to be a fool. The longer he thought about it, the more it seemed like those traitors had attacked Noble Era with such force for a reason. Perhaps Gareth should perform some research of his own.

Rather than take a right, directly to the tower, he took a left. Within a few minutes, he stood before Noble Era's room.

A Wonderbolt proudly stood in front of the broken-in door. This was a female, the coat was black, her mane was white. What's more, she did not look nearly as tired as the other guards he had seen. Neither her withers nor her ears sagged. Impressive, considering not a single guard in Canterlot had slept in the past 24 hours.

She turned to him, blue eyes narrowing. The monochrome guard's head lowered aggressively, reading Gareth's intent to enter.

Gareth glared right back. He tapped his gem-encrusted –and still stained– headguard once. With a sharp point of his index finger, he silently pointed for her to step aside. She did not. He demanded once more, this time in Equestrian.

She did not move. Her lips curled back, showing her flat, white teeth.

"Fine, be that way," Gareth muttered, walking toward her. The guard's eyes widened in shock as she immediately backpedaled into the doorframe. Gareth did not break his stride, easily stepping over her and silently praying that she didn't think to attack between his legs.

She didn't. He turned back to see her gape at him, partly in shock and partly in outrage. Her lips buttoned up, growing determined. At once, she turned and galloped down the hall.

Good. Now, to make the most of the time he had.

Noble Era's notes were left largely undisturbed by Cecilia's guards. Given how thoroughly it was destroyed, that was not a difficult task. Glass still crunched underfoot, notes were still scattered over the desk and one of the windows creaked back and forth, busted off its hinges. Perhaps Noble Era's assailants had used it as an entrance.

Gareth began to pluck out the sketches of human armour, gathering them into one hand. One piece looked different though; an edge was ragged, as if torn from a book. The writing on it was—

The 'Knights' seem to dress themselves in metal for protection, much like my guards.

English. That sentence was written in English. What's more, those loops and curls were familiar. Cecilia's handwriting; it had to be.

He needed to find this book. Fingers brushed aside sheets, glancing over anything that might have a ragged edge. Gareth walked over to the side of the desk. There, tucked down the side was a thick stack of paper.

Gareth leaned over and fished it out. He compared the sheet with the jagged edge of the first page's margin. They matched up perfectly. The page just after the first was a blown up passage of English text, something about trade goods. A series of notes drew off the passage; all of it was in near-illegible Equestrian.

He thumbed through the pages. Various second-hand sketches and English sentences flashed by. All of this, it had to be fragments of what Cecilia had in her old castle, 'The Castle of the Two Sisters', as Gleaming called it. Perhaps they were merely fragments as well. Yet, back there Gareth saw only sketches, not written English.

"I'm too tired for this," Gareth groaned, placing a hand to his head.

Galloping hooves came down the hall. There was more than one pony this time.

A jolt of adrenaline rushed through his heart. So much for fatigue. There was a snowball's chance in hell that he'd get to look through here again, not so soon. Hiding the notes here was pointless and they would spot something the size of a book if he tried to stuff it down his pants. He would need to—

A metal creak came from Gareth's side. The window waved open almost invitingly.

Gareth moved over to it; more glass crunched underfoot, this time from the window. He leaned out the windowsill, getting an excellent view of the courtyard. There was the gazebo that Cecilia and he ate dinner in, and there, that was his archery target!

Well, that did explain how Noble Era found him so quickly. Perhaps he had been watching Gareth for longer than— Wait, maybe Noble had more Ambassador's pills in his room!

The hoof-beats sounded like they were just outside.

Gareth tossed the notes out the window. A dull, grassy thump reached his ears a moment later.

Whipping around, Gareth walked back to the desk and lent over, half-pretending to look through the scraps of paper again.

"Grey Spear!" A deep, authoritarian voice bellowed from the doorway.

He looked over his shoulder, trying to appear at least somewhat surprised when Purple Dart glared daggers at him. Gareth shrugged, crossing his arms and attempting an air of smug indifference. All the while, he hoped that they would not notice his trembling hands.

Purple Dart growled, turning his glare on his subordinate and jabbing an accusatory hoof at Gareth. From the way she flinched, it seemed like she was in even more trouble than Gareth. Dart shook his head disbelievingly, heading over to Gareth and escorting him out with same air as an agitated butler.

Shooting another glare at his subordinate, Purple Dart let out a few sharp commands. With that, he continued to herd Gareth down the hall. This time, they were heading to the right.

Gareth smiled knowingly. There was no chance he was sleeping.

Five minutes after Purple Dart had closed and locked the doors to Cecilia's bedroom, Gareth was gone. Whatever orders Purple Dart may have given to the golden guardsponies outside were seemingly forgotten. One of them actually winked at Gareth as he vanished down the stairwell.

Ten minutes later, Gareth stood in the courtyard.

He looked up at the other side of Noble Era's broken window. Using that as a guide, he easily found the notes. They were slightly dirty from the damp soil, but that was easily brushed off.

"Hmmm, where did that front page go?" Gareth muttered, glancing about. After a moment of fruitless searching, he sighed and shrugged. He would just have to find it later.

Gareth headed over to one of the trees. With a relieved sigh, he cracked open the booklet.

Most of it was chopped-up phrases and notes. Not a lot made sense. Individually dissected words were common. One of the pages even included a jumbled-up alphabet, although the harsh scribbles in the margins seemed more out of frustration than sense.

Gareth smiled sympathetically: even he found reading English hard at times.

As the pages went on, the fragments became less common. Whole sentences taking their place. In fact, half of the stack formed these sentences. The subject matter varied. Most was political in nature. Gareth read a few and skipped the rest.

'I will begin to record my diary entries in Crystal Mirror's written language, both for practice and for secrecy.'
'I cannot make the council's decision for them.'
'They look at me like a goddess.'
'What have I done?'

Other passages, were unnervingly familar.

'It's peaceful here. I love the rain.'
'I enjoyed sketching the 'horses'. They're beautiful.'
'I hid from the natives when I could.'
'I disguised myself and spent the day at Rockingham.'

Then one line stopped and caught Gareth's attention.

'I was right. I cannot change them.'

Gareth read it over and over again. The words burned into his mind. Was she... was she talking about Equestria?

The pages crinkled in Gareth's fingers. All those accusations of abandonment... Gareth believed her the whole time. He believed that it was an accident, that she lost her memories and got caught on the otherside. Going to England was a expidition, a trip, and nothing more. Her true love was Equestria.

Something didn't add up. Those sketches in the old castle, they were years old at least. There was no way that Cecilia had the time to write all of this, and make all these sketches in just a day. Even with magic. In that whole time, Gareth had only seen her sketch once.

There were dozens of sketches in that room. The only way Cecilia could have that many sketches was if she had been through the mirror more than once. The only possible answer was that she'd been coming through for decades, maybe even hundreds of years.

"Hundreds of years..." Gareth mumbled numbly.

When did she start to care more for England than for Equestria?

Gareth racked his brain, trying to recall how her head injury happened. Mrs. Peters was too forceful with the well and pulled up too quickly. Cecilia crumpled mid-conversation as that bucket struck her square in the back of the head. Blood stained her pastel hair. Gareth tried to staunch it with his bare hands, desperately crying out for help.

She was alone. Why would she take such a risk without at least a bodyguard? How did one make a mistake like that?

...unless it wasn't a mistake.

Something skittered in the underbrush.

A hand went to his dagger. He watched the nearby pile of leaves. It rustled once more.

A pair of beady black eyes shone in the dark. Leaves crinkled as something small pushed a long, pointed nose forward. A chill ran up and down Gareth's spine. No, no, no, no, Gleaming Horizon promised that no small creature lived in Canterlot castle but ponies.

Despite claims to the contrary, a black rat poked its head out.

"Nope." His eye twitched.

With a thud, Gareth dropped the book. In that moment he was not thinking about Cecilia, or Noble Era's words, or even sleep, he only thought about the plague. With a jerky mechanical precision, he silently stood, turned and sprinted in the opposite direction.

Two minutes later, the Royal Guards watching Cecilia's chambers saw her prince-consort sprinted wide-eyed up the stairwell. He practically dove through the doors, slamming them closed behind him and barring it with a heavy metal thunk.

With a nervous glance, they made a non-verbal agreement to not say a word.

Chapter 10: Barrels & memories

Morning turned into afternoon, and then to night.

The doors to Canterlot court closed behind Celestia, signalling the end of the day and the end to today's duties. She hung her head, sighing. The images of a hundred nobles, furious, begging, or both, passed in front of her closed eyes. There was only one face she wanted to see right now, hopefully he would be in her room.

A clatter of hooves caught up, matching her speed. Colonel Purple Dart made a loud sniff and smelt faintly of starched cloth.

"What a complete debacle," the Colonel muttered, shaking his head. "How are you feeling, ma'am?"

Celestia didn't answer at first. Even with her memories scattered, she had not seen so many ponies arrayed against her in a very, very long time. The Equestrian nobility had unsurprisingly petitioned for leniency with any of their relatives. Some were demanding, some were pleading, some were bargaining, but all of them were hard to look in the eye.

"They believe that you are their leader," Celestia whispered under her breath, drawing on that gentle strength. She thought she had lost him last night. Then, not twelve hours later, he pulled her back into his arms. She could still feel the warmth.

"What was that?"

"Oh? Uh, nothing," Celestia quickly looked away.

The Colonel nodded sympathetically, "I understand, princess. 'Traitorous Royal Guard', my heart aches just putting those words together. I respect your decision to allow a trial for each of them… the law says they deserve it, but surely, this is just drawing it out. Their crimes simply deserve imprisonment."

"I know," Celestia replied, trying to suppress the haggard expression on her face, "And the law also states that their imprisonment should be for decades, or even exile from Equestria. However, mercy and pragmatism suggests otherwise."

"Oh yes," the Colonel smiled darkly, "Might I say that the lads greatly appreciate you entrusting them to Cloudsdale until their trials come about. Stripping them one by one of their uniforms and ranks will be a rare pleasure. I do hope one of them tries to esca—"

Celestia silenced him with a glare.

He froze, quickly bobbing his head.

She turned away, looking just as apologetic, "In the middle of sentencing, you mentioned something about Gar— ah, Grey Spear. What happened?"

The Colonel swished his moustache. "He's made a nuisance of himself, that's what he's done. What's more, he humiliated one of the Wonderbolts, stepping right over like she was a rock! Monochrome Sprint was guarding Noble Era's room and when I got there, I saw him digging through Noble's notes like a Diamond Dog. Not that I care for the stallion, but Noble Era is in a coma. Gareth ought to show some respect!"

"I see. I'll make sure to speak with him later," Celestia said, injecting some steel into her voice. Good work, Gareth. Hopefully he'd found something worthwhile. "Now, if you'll excuse me—"

The Colonel paused as Celestia gestured up to the red cross sign hanging above them. He blinked for a moment before jolting in surprise.

"Ah, v-very good, ma'am! Best of luck with Dr. Legata," He said before turning away.

Celestia stepped into the office. The doctor had cleaned up a little since her last visit; there wasn't a pile of sheets in the corner with an Earth-Guard feigning sleep, and there wasn't a wounded prince-consort rifling through her cupboards. Instead, there was just the doctor herself restocking some supplies, closing the cupboard doors with a sigh.

Dr. Legata turned to Celestia, blinking for a moment before politely nodding.

"Good evening Princess, I presume you're here about Noble Era? His condition has not changed," she gestured to Noble Era's bed. A rainbow of bouquets lay at the foot of his cot, looking almost as though his body was on display; bad news traveled fast. "Although it may worsen, given that his well-wishers seem to be attempting to suffocate him with flowers."

"I know he is in the right hooves, Legata," Celestia lowered her voice to a whisper, "But I'm not here to check on him, I'm here for me. My knowledge of this world is not as complete as it once was, and I need to know something for certain; is there a way of transforming my alicorn body into a human one, even for a short time?"

The doctor stared at Celestia with an uncertain expression. She glanced over Celestia's shoulder. Her horn lit up purple and pulled the heavy wooden door swung closed.

"Princess, the techniques of that kind of transformative magic have been lost to the ages. Some would say they were lost for good reason. Certain unicorns are feverishly studying it, but I am convinced that recreating it is a pipe dream," Legata said.

"Oh…"

Legata's brows turned up in a surprisingly tender expression. "Your majesty, are you familiar with my thesis?"

"Your thesis? Yes, I think I am. It is why I hired you in the first place, was it not? Your theories of emotional well-being and physical well-being were fascinating."

"Yes, well," Legata sucked in a sharp breath, glancing away, "That wasn't my initial thesis. My initial thesis was on the study of Love. More specifically, the emotion of love, the understanding of friendship and the bonds that bind ponies together."

Celestia pulled her head back in surprise, "Yes… I remember this. Your peers—"

"Laughed my flank out the University? Yes," Legata muttered bitterly.

Celestia winced. "I wouldn't have put it that way."

"But it's true," Legata continued, "You were the only pony I knew who put any stock in it. That's why I agreed to work with you. You also hired me for another reason; I would never lie to anypony, not to a patient, not to a family, and not to you. That also means that I will never withhold information, which is why you should know something."

Celestia felt numb.

"Princess Celestia," Legata said, "when I first saw Gareth, I performed one of my scans on him. When he came into my office earlier this morning, I performed another. In these, I saw what connections he had to the ponies around him. Even with his lack of magic, I could see the faint tethers of friendship."

The doctor took a moment to sigh, "Princess, there's no easy way to tell you this, but while he had a connection with you, it was not one of love. It was a connection between friends, nothing more."

Nothing but Noble Era’s rhythmic breathing filled the room. Legata stared deeply, a shadow of fear on her face.

Celestia ignored the pang of despair, warded off by warmth. "You saw no love from him?" she asked, schooling her expression.

"Not for you," Legata shook her head, "He loved someone, and quite strongly, but that pony was not you."

"I see," Celestia turned and walked to the door. She paused on the threshold, "Doctor, I had one more question; what does a connection between a mother and a daughter look like? Is it closer to love or to friendship?"

"Uh, friendship, of course."

Celestia smiled softly, "I see. Thank you, Doctor."

Legata took a half step forward, eyes wide, "Wait, I don't understand! He doesn't love you! Doesn't that upset you in the slightest? Normally when I tell this to ponies they become agitated or at least—"

"Doctor," Celestia replied with a gentle smile, "I learnt a lot of things in England. One thing I learnt is very dear to me: there is more than one kind of love."

The looks on Celestia's guards’ faces told her what she needed to know; Gareth was inside, and he was not doing well. Her horn lit up as she pushed the doors open and quickly locked them behind her. The room had been cleaned since this morning. The bed was made, her sketches were neatly arranged and the large silver platter, once filled with flank-fattening comfort foods, was removed.

Garth's Spartan cot was empty, but his equipment still lay next to it. Armour hung on a makeshift armour stand, effectively, a coat rack with a horizontal stick lashed on. His spear and longbow lined alongside that... along with a recurve bow. Celestia frowned, perhaps Gareth had taken more than just notes from Noble Era's room.

A whip of shifting satin sheets came from her bed. What at first looked like a yellow cushion was actually a head of hair: Gareth's hair. He dozed on the floor, propping his back up against the side of her bed.

Celestia crept up to him, trying not to startle him awake. He had taken the hair-tie out.

Celestia grumbled. The ponytail was starting to grow on her. A surprisingly pleasant mix of sweat and body odour wafted by her as she approached. She could see him sprinting up all those stairs, barely needing to take a breath.

Brown eyes snapped open. Gareth lurched forward with a gasp, reaching down for his dagger. His head whipped about wildly.

"It's okay," Celestia whispered. "I'm here, it's okay."

Gareth caught sight of her. A heavy, relieved sigh escaped him. "I just—" he said, smiling gently. "Sorry... Cecilia"

"Nightmares?."

His smile turned rueful, glancing away, "Yeah, I-I know. 'We both get them', 'it's nothing to be shameful of'."

Celestia smiled. "No daggers in bed."

"'No daggers in bed'," he recited, affecting a nagging tone.

"Prince Gareth! Are you implying that you might actually be listening to your wife? Scandalous," Celestia tittered. She slowly lowered herself down, reclining next to him.

"Ah, but my wife is the princess, and I am but a loyal subject!" Gareth replied, his grin turning genuine. "You married a York, your majesty, our oaths mean something. Now Lancasters, those rats wouldn't—" he stopped, seemingly remembering something. His face froze in horror.

"Rats!" All humour in his voice was gone. "In the courtyard! Cecilia, there are plague rats in the courtyard!"

Well, that explained the panic.

"Gareth, please, calm down," she said, placing a forehoof on his shoulder. "There is nothing to be concerned about. There has been no evidence of the plague in Equestria."

"Of course there hasn't!" Gareth growled, gesturing wildly. "Even in England, horses were immune to the plague! If Equestria's ratcatchers aren't doing their jobs, then I'll do it for them!"

"Gareth!" Celestia's voice turned firm, her forehoof pressing harder. "You're not listening to me; there are no ratcatchers here because there is no plague here. But, if what you said is true, then these rats are violating Equestrian law, they're trespassing on royal land. I will allow you to capture them if you wish, but on one condition—"

"Let me guess, no killing, right?" Gareth huffed petulantly.

"No killing?" Celestia echoed, her lip curled. "Gareth, I don't want so much as a single strand of fur yanked out! These rats may be criminals, but they have rights!"

Gareth let out a long, aggravated sigh, dragging his palms across his face. He rocked to his feet with a huff, marching a few steps forward.

"Gareth?"

"No injuries," he replied, his tone neutral. "I understand."

"No, I…" Celestia pursed her lips. "I just wanted to say good night."

Suddenly, he stopped. His body swayed slightly.

"Cecilia?" Gareth asked, slowly turning to her. "I... can I sleep beside you tonight?"

Celestia's heart pulsed, breaking into a sprint. She blanked her face as her mind raced. This morning, she managed to put on some perfume before she seeing him in Dr. Legata's office. Right now, both of them reeked the high heavens. If she told him to bathe, he might take it the wrong way, and he looked so fatigued that if she took a bath, he might just fall asleep anyway.

However delightful the idea was, she wasn't stupid enough to suggest they should take one together.

"Cecilia?" Gareth asked again, tilting his head.

She jolted, quickly answering, "Y-yes, of course you can. If that's what you would like." Mercifully, her voice came out as sounding perfectly calm and gentle.

Both of them made their ways to opposite sides of the bed. Celestia's coat prickled with sweat, watching him as he made the first move. If anything, Gareth looked how she felt: tired and lonely.

He reached forward, pulling the sheet back and slipping in underneath the covers. A grimace formed on his face as he tossed once, twice, trying to find a place where he could get some decent legroom. With a sigh, he closed his eyes.

Celestia kept her distance, lifting the covers and laying down on the opposite side. There was almost a yard in distance between them. With a flick of her magic, the lights in the room extinguished.

Gareth sighed in relief, "'Night, Cecilia."

"Good night, Gareth," she whispered.

Celestia had a dream that night. Well, she could only assume it was a dream, or perhaps it was just Gareth shifting in his sleep. Maybe it was just a shoulder or fingertips that brushed across her.

Or… maybe he kissed her on the lips.

Dream, mistake or reality, Gareth was not there when she woke up.

The next morning, Gareth wheeled a barrel out into the middle of the courtyard. He stopped by one of the larger trees, pulled it up and lifted off the lid.

Yes, this was plenty close enough. At his age, Gareth had mastered a variety of different skills. The art of fletching, bowyership, archery, horse riding and farming were all within his ken. Yet, not all of his skills were as proud or honourable.

Being raised on a farm meant that his fellow knights tended to see him as the person who looked after any animal problem. Feral dogs? Gareth will do it. Sick cat? Gareth can heal it. Head lice? Gareth. Rats...?

Hungry nights on the road meant that Gareth had to learn the art of ratcatching. One could make a tidy profit in it actually, with a dead rats weighing in a few pennies a head. A dozen rats meant a pleasant night's sleep and food in one's belly. Although not nearly as glamorous, before long, Gareth came to see it as being roughly as dangerous as bounty hunting. Both needed the correct equipment, planning and preparation.

Gareth pulled a small sack off his belt and unwrapped it. The sweet smell of cake frosting tickled his nose. His stomach growled in approval. However, this was not for him. He drew his dagger and dragged it across.

Gleaming Horizon's words still echoed in his head. Gareth asked for a hunting dog to be allowed into the castle –a reasonable request, he thought– which could help with the hunt. 'No', was the answer. No 'vicious dogs'. Not even a 'small but vicious dog'. No animals were allowed in the castle. Moreover, no, there weren't any rats in the courtyard; the groundskeeper would have spotted them.

Aha, he thought: groundskeeper! Unfortunately, said keeper was on holiday, so another pony was looking after the grounds in the meantime. Whoever that was, Gleaming had no idea. Marvelous. So, back to basics then. He could not use a dog to sniff them out; he couldn't poison the bastards either. No, he only had only the humblest of a ratcatcher's implements: a trap.

Gareth peered over the side of the barrel, swabbing the innards with an index finger. Yes, the soapy grease was holding strong. He reached up to the centre, tugging at the rod and loosely-fitted cylinder.

Now for the bait; he slathering the cylinder with the icing. Rats loved sugar, and they loved grains. Therefore, cake made of both these things made the perfect trap. Gareth's logic was infallible. When the rats crawled over to get a nibble of the cake, they slip on the rod, and then fall in the barrel. Bang, one captured rat.

Normally he would have filled it with water, but no, Cecilia specified LIVE and UNHARMED rats. No one was going to accuse him of being a disobedient husband. That did not mean that he was going to be anywhere near this thing when the time came to fish them out. A pony could have that 'honour'.

With a final grunt, Gareth lifted up a plank, setting the base on the ground and the tip on the lip of the barrel. Rats go up the plank, and then the trap does it's stuff. Simple.

Gareth turned, clapping his hands together, smirking with the satisfaction of a job well done.

A tuft of pink mane poked out from the side of a tree. Butter Pie trotted forward, a small sack held in her mouth. Her eyes were fixated on the wall just behind Gareth.

"Good morning, Butter Pie," Gareth said, politely waving. She looked up to him, smiling through the sack.

"Hello, Gareth," her voice was warm and dreamy. It never ceased to amaze how ponies managed to speak so clearly with something in their mouth. "Lovely day for a pic— oh? What is that?"

Gareth glanced to the barrel behind him, trying to think up the words, "Trap for… uh, monsters. Black, small monsters, ah, fuck it—" He lifted his hands up to his face, mimicking whiskers. "Squeak, squeak! Yummy cake," a flattened palm mimed the rat's ascent, and— "Oh no, fall! Thud!"

Besides her left eye twitching once, Butter Pie's expression did not change from numb contentment.

"Gar-eth!" Styre's voice rang out from the courtyard's entrance. He wore gold barding instead of silver. A promotion perhaps?

A cloud of dust trailed in Styre's wake as he rushed up to the pair of them. He snorted loudly, subtly huffing to get his wind back. Butter Pie made a murmur of greeting, smiling at him sweetly.

Gareth cocked a brow, waving his hand expectantly.

"Celestia," Styre grunted. He paused for a moment, before fishing a palm-sized scroll out of the plates in his barding. Despite being new, for Styre at least, the armour looked rather beaten up.The corners of the plates were worn down, likely from grinding off rust.

Gareth frowned. Perhaps that was different in Equestria, but in England that meant that the set had to be decades old at least.

With a flick of Styre's mouth, the scroll unravelled into a map of Canterlot. A large rubber stamp marked a familiar location: Canterlot Library.

"Ah, got it," Gareth surmised, leaning over and gently tugged the scroll of out Styre's mouth. He rapped his knuckles against Styre's armoured shell as he walked past, "Good armour. You did well last night."

"You too." Styre snapped his forehoof up to his brow in a pony's salute. Gareth returned it.

Butter Pie stepped up to Styre's side, nuzzling against him… and giving Gareth a pointed look.

Ah, right, picnic. Gareth took a few steps back, bidding them farewell and turning away.

Canterlot Library was old. Not that it looked unkempt, no, but rather the very architectural style hinted at a different time, perhaps hundreds of years earlier. Instead of smooth corners and bright colours, the stone was angular and plain, much like the castles in England. The smell of pine, horse and paper filled the air inside, along with a sea of bookcases that stretched on for a hundred yards to his left and right.

Gareth walked by a group of chattering ponies, each grabbing piles of books like a child with a toy. There was no reverence here. To make this many books would have taken an army of monks decades. There must have been thousands, no, tens of thousands of books here.

After getting directions from a stern-eyed librarian, Gareth found himself in front of a gilded door. A sign was stuck on it with the bust of an alicorn's head. While he could not make out much of the text below, one of them probably meant 'royal'.

Gareth gave the door a gentle nudge.

On the other side Cecilia and Gleaming sat at a round table in a private room. Bookshelves lined the four walls, each one stacked to the ceiling.

Gareth's heart seized for a moment. He hadn't seen Gleaming since the night of the attack. Cecilia said that she'd broken her leg... because of him. He lifted raised his hand in a nervous greeting. "Hello."

Both Cecilia and Gleaming brightened, looking up from the piles of books and scrolls in front of them. "Gareth, you are here!" Cecilia said in Equestrian.

He smiled back, taking a moment to consider his reply, "Hello everypony. How can I help?"

"By getting a book!" Gleaming said, smiling and pointing up to the bookshelf behind him.

Book? Gareth turned, looking up at one of the higher shelves. There... there were a lot of books. "Uh... which book?"

"Red book," Cecilia said. "Top shelf.

The hairs on the back of Gareth's neck stuck up. Her voice felt unnervingly... scheming. He looked through the shelves again.

True to her word though, the book was nestled just between the top shelf and the cieling. It was just within reach. Just.

Gareth reached up on the balls of his feet, pinching the spine of the book. Once, twice, three times.

A pair of giggles came from behind.

Gareth felt his cheeks grow hot. They were making fun of him, somehow. With a growl, he reached up one more time.

The book gave way, falling into his hands with dusty clap. 'On the nature of translation spells by Starswhirl the Bearded', the title said. There was a stamp of Equestria's royal insignia on the otherside.

"I've got the book," Gareth said, turning back.

Gleaming Horizon looked up, her face was burning red and lips twitching nervously. Cecilia continued to stare where his arse used to be. "That's nice, dear."

"You done?" Gareth said, placing his hands on his hips.

"Not quite," Cecilia said, finally looking up. "Gleaming Horizon is VERY interested in just how dexterous human fingers are, do you think you can--"

"--NO, NO, THAT'S NOT NESSESCARY!" Gleaming Horizon squeaked, seemingly attempting to sink beneath the table.

Gareth rolled his eyes. "Why am I here again?"

"We...w-we asked you here because," Gleaming Horizon glanced over to one of the many books strewn across the table.

Emotion drained from Gareth's body. He looked Cecilia in the eye. "How can I help?"

The light in her eyes faded, "Just… be here," . She pulled over one of the books, the cover had two alicorns on the front, one white, and one blue. "This book is called 'History of Equestria: Fifth Century'."

Gareth sat down, "Your sister?"

Cecilia nodded.

Gleaming's ears perked up. "I... I better go."

"Gleaming, it's okay," Cecilia said.

"No... it's... I-I should go." She pulled away. The heavy plaster cast on her hind leg thumped with each step as she nervously trotted by.

Gareth's chest tightened at the sight of it, proof of his failure.

She cast a final, nervous glance as the door closed behind her. They were alone.

Gareth turned to Cecilia. "I'm ready whenever you are," he urged, switching back to English.

The manuscript opened at middle, one of the pages depicted a series of scenes in small boxes. At the top left was a pair of alicorns in a swirling pose, the flag of Equestria.

Cecilia cleared her throat, "And so it was agreed that the eldest used her alicorn powers to raise the sun at dawn. She ruled the day: keeping the peace through political rule in keeping with the principles of Harmony. The younger brought out the moon to begin the night. She was the defender, protecting not only against beasts of the physical, but also against nightmares, traveling into the dreams of her subjects when needed.

The blue alicorn stood on a cloud with her head hung low. A shadow passed over Cecilia's face, "But as time went on, the younger sister grew resentful."

A field of ponies, half in the sun and playing, and half at night, sleeping, "The ponies relished and played in the day her elder sister brought forth, but shunned and slept through her beautiful night."

The white alicorn stood upon the blue alicorn's cloud, "One fateful day, the young sister alicorn refused to lower the moon to make way for the dawn. The elder sister tried to—" Cecilia froze, her lips trembling. She closed her eyes, taking a breath, "She… tried to reason with her, but the bitterness in the young one's heart had transformed her—"

Suddenly, the blue alicorn's eyes turned green, rearing up as the white sister recoiled, "—into a wicked mare of darkness: Nightmare Moon. Sh-she vowed she would shroud the land in eternal night."

A fire clutched Gareth's heart. Her sister betrayed Cecilia because of jealously?

"Re-reluctantly, the elder sister harnessed the most powerful magic known to—" Cecilia's eyes glazed over. She closed the book with a creaking thud, "I-I can't read this anymore. It hurts too much."

Gareth cautiously picked it up, watching her for protest.

There was none.

He flicked back to the page. The scenes in the book told him the rest; Cecilia used this powerful magic, involving six coloured stones, to defeat her sister. This magic transformed the younger sister into the moo— no, wait; this banished her to the moon. Then Cecilia took control of both the sun and the moon, with the ponies looking up at her, smiling and joyful.

They were... happy about Cecilia banishing her sister.

He lowered the book.

Cecilia stared at him.

Gareth picked his words carefully. "What happened to her?"

"Banished to the moon," Cecilia glanced out the window. "For a thousand years."

"Why?"

Cecilia paused. "Because I couldn't bring myself to destroy her," she turned back. "Could you?"

"This was the one that challenged your rule before, wasn't it?"

"Yes," she squeezed her eyes shut. "I was weak."

"...Did you love her?"

"Of course I did, Gareth," she chided half-heartedly. "She was my sister. She was family."

Family...

"Cecilia, do you remember my mother?"

She nodded. "Yes, she abandoned you and your father took you in. Isn't that right?"

"Yeah... and do you remember how I sold my cuirass a few years ago? Before we wed?"

Cecilia tilted her head, "Gareth?"

The memories came back, unbidden. A woman in a blackshawl stood at his doorway, rainsoaked to the bone. Her face was vivid, still as proud as he remembered, but age was not kind to her. She begged, pleaded. Begged for money, begged for protection. Demanded it on account of his familial ties. He owed her.

Embers of rage stung in the back of his mind. Gareth bit his lip. "She... abandoned my father and I to marry a yeoman. They had children. He died. His family cast her out. She and my half-siblings were destitute."

"And the money you got from the breastplate—"

He nodded, "—was enough to send one of Uncle's representatives, fetch them, and then buy them a home in Corby. On the condition that they'd never know who I was."

"That's why you never wanted to go to town anymore."

"Yes," he admitted. "I felt… used, I guess. Weak. But I knew that I couldn't live with myself if I just let them suffer. She abandoned us, she deserved no mercy... but her children were innocent. I could have destroyed them, instead, I took a chance."

Cecilia's brow nit upwards.

Gareth stroked her cheek. "Just like you did."

She leaned into him. Her muzzle gently rubbed his cheek. "Because they're family."

That... affected him. His throat closed up, forcing down a hitch. Tears blurred his vision, a few swipes of his fingers brushed them away, but they were not stopping. No... no damn it, he was meant to be comforting her, not the other way around.

"Alright, enough of this," Gareth closed the book, placing it back on the pile and snatching a scroll. "What else do we have here?"

Huh, a stack of papers. Research papers. A jolt rushed through his veins. Noble Era's research papers!

Gareth abruptly stood, "Cecilia, a diary! Noble Era was researching your diary! It had entries from when you were just going into the mirror!"

"Are you certain?" Cecilia asked, deadly serious.

"Yes, I dropped it outside Noble Era's window yesterday afternoon! Wait, why didn't I tell you back in your—" He froze, his eyes widening. The rat; that bloody, plague-ridden--

A white forehoof planted itself on his chest. "Gareth, focus. Are the papers still here?"

"Yes, they'd have to be!"

She stood with him, moving to the door. "Then we haven't a moment to lose. Let's go, Gareth."

'I was right. I cannot change them.' The line came back, still as vivid as when he first saw it.

He glanced to Cecilia, did she really have no idea? Could she really have been lying to him? The sooner they had those papers, the sooner he would have his answers…

They slowed, both panting from the mile-long sprint. The sun hung low over the castle's roof, casting a long shadow.

Cecilia's head flicked about, looking near the bushes. They retraced his steps: he picked up the papers there, then walked over to the tree, and then he… he must have dropped them.

The papers were not there.

"FUCK!" Gareth yelled, boot cracking into the base of the tree. He slammed his palms into it, throwing his head down as his blood boiled over. No answers. Again. Was God testing him, or mocking him?

"Do you remember anything from the pages?" Cecilia asked.

"Yeah… as a matter of fact, I do," he huffed, turning back to her. "One of the pages said 'I was right. I cannot change them'."

She blinked in confusion.

"Each page was dedicated to one sentence," He took a step forward. "What I just said was one of those sentences. Between that and all the sketches in The Castle of the Two Sisters, there is no way you have only been to England once. How long have you been watching us, Cecilia?"

She took a step back, eyes widening and wings rising, "Gareth, I don't know what you are talking about--"

"You know exactly what I am talking about!" Gareth roared, jabbing a finger at her, "You've always been watching us, even when I first met you, you were sketching me! You seriously expect me to believe that you haven't? Why would you have risked coming through otherwise? Why didn't you have a group of your guards watching over you in case you didn't come back?"

"Gareth, I--"

"What, did you think that I was an idiot, that I wouldn't notice?" His throat tightened. "Was this always just a game to you? Or where you intending on leaving me too--"

"GARETH!" Celestia's voice filled his ears. Her face was red and eyes wide. "I-I honestly don't know what you're talking about! I don't remember... I don't remember any of it. And as far as I know, that was my first time in the Mirror. I wish I had answers for you, I really do, b-but I don't! I just... don't... and I'm sorry. Everypo-- everyone is always looking to me for answers, but I just don't have them!"

She stared at him for a while, the fear in her eyes matched his own.

"Cecilia..." He trailed off, the words weren't coming to him.

"Gareth, I'm just as afraid as you are, and for different reasons," she walked up to him, biting her lip, "You're afraid that I'm going to betray you. I understand that, people who were very close to you, people who should have loved you, cherished you, they hurt you, a lot. Let me tell you what I'm afraid of... I'm afraid of losing you. I'm afraid that... someday I'm not going to have the answer, or I'm going to be wrong and you'll suffer for it, or you're going to... just not... love me any more."

Gareth squeezed his eyes shut. He placed a hand on her neck, "You're right, I am afraid. I'm sorry... I-I lost control. But I want to be clear on this, you have your secrets and I mine, but please do not lie to me. Once you remember, I want the full truth."

She placed a hoof on his hand, "It's okay Gareth; if that's what you remember from the notes, then I'm just as scared as you are. Now... did you really see some of my sketches back there?"

"Yeah, I did," he sighed, rubbing his face. "Well, that's about as close as we're getting to the truth tonight. We can use the pegasus express to check it out tomorrow. I'd rather not have any adventures at night."

There was a thud of falling wood from the forest, "Wait, Cecilia, did you hear that? The barrel trap!"

Drawing his dagger, Gareth gestured Cecilia to stay behind him. She perked a brow and walked up beside him.

"Alright, now, stay—"

"Behind you? Gareth, do you remember what I did to that cart last night?"

How could he forget? Popped off wheels, unconscious guards, and power enough to turn night into day, all in a matter of sec— oh.

"Yes, yes, I remember," Gareth grimaced; he still wasn't putting his dagger away.

"As do I," She smiled. "Allow your most gracious lord to protect you."

"Hah." Gareth felt sorely tempted to take her up on that.

They approached the barrel trap, its plank had been knocked down. A common issue, Gareth should have nailed it to the barrel itse--

There was a rat sitting next to the barrel... a black rat munching down on a sugar sprinkled pastry. He recognised the design, it was one of Butter Pie's.

Holding his dagger out, Gareth inched towards the plank. If he could pick it up, then all he would need is just one quick strike and it would be all over. The rat didn't seem to particularly care, lazily waving at him, heedless of its imminent demise.

Gareth froze, "did that rat just wave at me?"

"Yes my child," Cecilia replied in a patronising tone. "Fear not, you are within the wings of the most high."

"Oh, do shut up."

With a yawning chomp, the rat stuffed the rest of the pastry into its mouth. For a second, its skull distorted and swelled to almost twice its size. Within a few bites, it swallowed, returning to normal.

"By God's bones, please tell me you saw that," Gareth whimpered, stepping behind Cecilia.

Cecilia groaned in disbelief. The rat squeaked up at Cecilia. A few moments later, she spoke in Equestrian, staring at it. Then the rat squeaked again, waving its paws around. Cecilia continued.

They were having a conversation. His wife was having a chat with vermin.

"Oh-ho, he's quite a charmer!"

"Excuse me?" Gareth spluttered.

"And apparently he's hale and hearty, who'd have guessed?" Cecilia sneered. "He told me that his friend, a chubby grey pony, had given him that treat as a reward for giving us a page of the diary." She gestured down at the rat, who quickly ran around the other side of the barrel.

The rat returned with a scrolled up piece of paper. It bowed to Cecilia, handing it up to her.

"Cecilia, please tell me you're not—"

She glared at him, "oh, stop it. He's helping us." Her magic plucked it from its paw. The scroll unfurled with a flick, her eyes quickly scanning the lines. "Gareth, look, it's your armour on the front! Let me see the other side…urgh, yes, I figured as such. While that line is in English, the rest is encrypted in another language. If Noble Era was still awake he could have told me where my diary is. Unfortunately, he's still unconscious."

"It's not in Equestria?"

Cecilia shook her head. "No, it's Limerick. It uses the same font, but uses totally different words."

"Ah." A thought crossed Gareth's mind. The younger sister controlled the moon, and then Cecilia came to control it later. The young sister could also go into other people's dreams -an unnerving idea if he dwelt on it- but if Cecilia could control the moon…

"Cecilia, what about your sister's dream magic?"

"What?"

"Her dream magic," Gareth continued. "You learnt how to move the moon, what's stopping you from finding out how to walk in dreams like she did?"

Cecilia looked away, her face locked in thought.

"...Nothing?" Gareth asked.

"I can't believe I hadn't thought of it. You're right, that's what I need to do," she decided. "I'll head back to The Castle of the Two Sisters and look over my sister's old notes. In the meantime, I need you to find the rest of the pages."

Gareth frowned, "How? The only person I can think to question is the groundskeeper, maybe Styre or Butter Pie, but that is it. I'd need a hunting dog to track down the other pages."

Cecilia smiled, "Funny you should say that, just a moment."

She turned away, exchanging some words with the rat. It chirped in confusion, glancing at Gareth, then to the dagger in his hands. A few more urging words from Cecilia and it slowly nodded, giving her a jolly 'thumbs up'.

Gareth pulled his dagger closer. He was not throwing it away.

"Excellant!" Cecilia turned back to him. "Gareth, this rat is not supposed to be here. However, he and his family may stay on staff at the castle provided he helps you find the rest of the pages."

"WHAT?" Gareth yelled, unable to keep the disgust from his face. "Have you gone insane? Think of the contamination, the poisoning, they're filthy beasts! Cecilia, just because you're a pony here doesn't mean that I'm immune to the plague as well!"

"Gareth," this time Cecilia was gentle. "Dogs can also catch the plague. I've never seen an Equestrian dog with it."

"Yes, but the animals here are weird!" Sweat began prickling all over his body. He paced back and forth, giving Cecilia a pleading glance. "Cecilia, please, I love you, but don't make me do this. I see what happens to people who catch the plague! I don't— I don't want to die like that!"

She screwed her eyes shut for a moment, opening them as she leaned over, gently touching his cheek. "Gareth, I know that this is harsh, but I need your help. I will not make you do this, but you are the only person that I can trust with this. Please."

Gareth balled his hands into fists. He glared down at the rat, who waved cheerfully. A growl rolled up his throat.

"Fine," he ground out. "I'll do it, but on two conditions. One, it stays on the end of that plank and two, I come back in my armour; lavender, beeswax and all."

Chapter 11: Armour & rooftops

"Cecilia, you owe me for this."

A leather boot, firmly strapped with a metal shin-guard, hit soil as Gareth stepped out into the courtyard.

He fixed his visor, pressing the slit as closely to his eyes as it could. Immediately, the pungent sting of heavily perfumed fabrics, stolen from Cecilia's drawers, burnt his nose. That smell of rosewater was painful, but it would have to do for now, especially since his old lavender petals were nothing more than dead leaves now.

Truth be told, he didn't need the rest of his armour. The hauberk dug on his shoulders after a while and, with ponies being so short, his spaulders were more for show than function. Yet, ramshackle as it was, he felt naked without it. Hell, he didn't even bring any weapons along. Except his dagger. He wasn't throwing away his fucking dagger.

"Small creature, where are you?" He shouted in Equestrian, trying to block out how ludicrous it sounded.

Then, as if answering, the Rat appeared, poking out the side of a tree. It chittered, excitedly waving him, waving him, over.

Gareth glanced down at his failed barrel trap. Peering inside told him that, no, it was no more successful than his last visit. Bloody super-smart vermin. He leaned down, picked up the discarded plank and then thrust it at the Rat.

The Rat squeaked in shock, a tiny claw pushing the tip away. Another thrust and it bounced away, fur bristling.

Gareth growled, throwing the plank to the ground. "Then how are you going to direct me, huh? Do you think I'm going to hold you in my hand, or on a leash? God's truth, a rat on a leash," he palmed his visor.

Suddenly, the Rat perked up, pink nose twitching in the air. The wind blew its whiskers as its expressive eyes glanced about. A moment later, a broad grin swept across its snout.

Then it turned around and darted off.

"Oh for—" Gareth's hands balled into fists. "Get back here, you little shit!"

Chinking metal filled the air as he launched into a sprint, glancing left and right. A rodent-shaped figure darted out the corner of his eyes. He dug in his heels, shifting direction and sprinted after it, a swear word accompanying each heaving breath.

They were getting close to the edge of the courtyard, a cliff that overlooked the horizon. Equestrian houses and buildings stretched out, all towards the gates of Canterlot. The blue sky was quickly turning orange, the setting sun beginning to fall over distant mountaintops. Gareth hoped that, in addition to speech, Equestrian rats couldn't add 'flight' to their list of talents.

Claws chinked up hollow metal. The Rat climbing up one of the castle's drainpipes. With a quick leap, it scrambled up onto the groundskeeper's clay-tiled shed and then turned back, waving at him… and seemingly urging to follow.

It wanted him to follow across rooftops.

Gareth's armour felt like lead. His metal gauntlet was rigid, meant to protect against sword swipes, unsuited to climbing. His hauberk's weight would fatigue him, and his shin guards restrained his feet. Then there was his helmet; each breath needed to be sucked through strips of cloth, and every movement had to be calculated through a narrow slit in his visor. This was suicide.

"A-another way?" Gareth mumbled, nervously gesturing to the castle.

The Rat huffed in the negative, placing its claws akimbo. It beckoned him forward once more.

Gareth sucked in a breath, looking up and down the shed. Equestrian roofs were short enough to climb up, but the castle was on a cliff-face… and it was a long way down.

He walked forward, hooking his hands onto the gutters and heaving himself up. Metal clicked and rattled over his body, groaning as he rolled up onto the roof.

A skitter of claws; the Rat was already moving. It scampered along a generously sized stone ledge, circling the outside of the castle. Gareth frowned in thought: perhaps it was for pegasi?

The Rat stopped, looking over its shoulder, waiting for him to follow.

Gareth bit his lip, willing himself not to look down. He pressed his back up against the castle's exterior wall and slowly shimmied after it. With each step, his hands found something to hold onto in a vice grip.

It was a very, very long way down.

With a grunt, Gareth lept off the side, armour clattering down with him. The building's sharply angled roof groaned as he slowly stood back up. The Rat darted out the corner of his eye, jumping onto another rooftop.

He followed carefully, watching his boots as he walked to the edge. The cobblestone streets were abandoned. Just like in the book. Equestria's ponies were busy sleeping the night away.

The other rooftop was a good two yards away. Not an impossible jump, but enough to give him pause. A few handholds were immediately obvious, a loose tile to avoid, a foothold… yeah, he could make it.

Backing up a few steps, Gareth rushed forward; he jumped.

He landed, boots cracking onto tiles. His gut lurched; the tiles began to slide! Both arms flicked out, waving, trying to maintain balance.

A few seconds later, they stopped. Nervously, he stepped forward, huffing, holding a palm to his pounding chest. Goddamn it, Cecilia owed him for this. He shook his head, got his wind back, then began to move forward once more, keeping one eye on his path and the other on that damned Rat.

Dim city lights streaked by as he jumped from building to building. The streets weren't truly abandoned, though. Occasionally there would be some pony out on business, but rarely alone. A more frequent sight was the guards, standing in pairs (or more) by some building of presumable worth. A few of them glanced up at the racket he was making, running and jumping between rooftops. None of them really seemed to notice him, or if they did, quickly decided it wasn't worth the effort.

Slowly, the quality of roofs began to improve. The elaborate buildings and exorbitant paints were unmistakable; the Rat was leading him to the Noble's district. A forest of pointed rooftops, crawling all the way to the side of Canterlot's mountain.

He had only been there once or twice, following Cecilia on some errand. Not many ponies paid much attention when he was in her shadow, and the nobles especially so. Hopefully, the night's shadow would be just as effective.

This noble's roof was long and angular. At the rat's urging, he lay flat, and crawled up the side. When just at the top, he peeked over the ridge.

A column of chained up prisoners, both earth and unicorn ponies, clopped in lockstep through a stone street. Four squads of hard-faced Royal Guards led them forward, each one standing at one of the four corners. Gareth frowned; there had to be at least two hundred prisoners down there. Even chained up, there was no way that twenty guards were keeping them in check for long.

They were walking towards the gates of a mansion, a big one. Probably one of the biggest in the district. Gareth make the connection at first, but it was beginning to make sense. Only someone with lots of links to the Guard could have done this. A noble slotted in perfectly.

Suddenly, the column came to a stop. The streets became eerily silent.

Wait… none of the guards had wings.

The guards suddenly turned around, staring for a moment. Then frowns became smiles. They walked forward, unlocking cuffs and pulling off chains. A relieved murmur rose up from the prisoners, grinning and rubbing their raw forelegs.

"G'evening to you all." A pony in a top hat stepped through the mansion's gates. Gareth recognised the scars: Mr. Larms, Styre's father. He was in the hallway after Gareth's… introduction to the Diamond Dog ambassador.

Larms launched into a warm, fatherly speech. He smiled, pacing in front of them. The accent was nearly impenetrable, but words like 'Celestia', 'resist' and 'justice' were unmistakable. He walked over to one of the prisoners in the front, pulling him into a hug. They shared a sharp laugh as Larms turned him around to face the others, a foreleg still sitting on the prisoner's shoulder.

Gareth squinted, glancing over the white coat, blonde mane and sharp, tapered eyes. Flash Bang, the one that liked conjuring thunder. The armour normally concealed their true colours, but the eyes were unmistakable. That was the first pony Gareth had ever met… it was also his first encounter with magic.

He didn't like it.

A squeak came from Gareth's left. The Rat had an urgent expression on its face, beckoning him to follow with one claw while pressing a digit up to its lips. Just over its shoulder, he could see a path to an open window into Larm's mansion.

As much as he was loath to admit it, the Rat was right. Even in armour, there was no way Gareth was going to win with those kind of odds. He needed to find those papers, and he needed to get out of here. Still, at least he felt a bit better about breaking and entering now.

Gareth turned and slid down, following the Rat across the rooftop.

The Rat rushed along a gutter. It stopped at the edge, peering over its shoulder, grinning as Gareth stepped up next to it.

The side of the Mansion had plenty of windowsills. If he had some rope and a hook, Gareth could probably climb up the side. Not that he'd want to climb up to where the window was. Even now, it loomed above him, separated by an alley below. That was a three yard distance, diagonally too.

Gareth peered over the edge. He immediately wished he hadn't. That was a twenty-foot drop. Short buildings or no, Gareth would lucky if the only thing he broke was his legs.

The Rat chittered, gesturing to the other side. It almost seemed like it was telling him to—

"Jump?" Gareth growled. "Are you serious? I could never make a jump like that, especially not in armour. Look, isn't there any other way that I can get up there—" he blinked, throwing his arms up. "And now I'M talking to the rat, that's just great!"

With another squeak, the Rat gave him an incredulous expression before shrugging and stepping back. It fell down to all fours, backside wriggling, then sprinted forward.

Claws dug into his boots and rushed up his legs. The hairs on the back of Gareth's neck stood up.

It was climbing him. THE FUCKING RAT WAS CLIMBING UP— Gareth suppressed a scream as he twisted about. The Rat just kept climbing.

Then a flinging squeak filled the night air. Gareth glanced down at his gloves. Did he throw it off? He didn't feel it on him anymore, maybe it was gone.

A hushed squeak came from the Mansion. The Rat, sitting atop the open windowsill cheerfully waved at him.

Gareth clenched his fists. Great, well, at least he hadn't killed it. Of course, now the real trick was, getting across without killing himself. He glanced down again.

A guard walked down the alley. Her face was red, swaying slightly. Drunk. Great, she probably wasn't going to look up, but getting in from the ground floor was going to be impossible with all these ponies around.

He needed to jump. An unpleasant lump formed in Gareth's throat. He knew that Cecilia was relying on him, but God…

Spotting a likely handhold, Gareth backed up. He clenched his fists, testing the flex. One slip, and that guard won't be the only making a mess on the pavement.

Another insistent squeak. Gareth sighed; he was just putting it off at this point. Alright, now or never.

Gareth sprinted forward; he jumped.

His gauntlet caught the windowsill and—

Bricks slammed into his chest, forcing the air from his lungs. He let go.

Gareth's gut plummeted as he fell back. His hands scrambled for the windowsill, they slipped, then he started flailing for anything at all. He was falling.

He stopped, dangling from one hand, holding a gutter in a vice grip. Sweat trickled down his brow and soaked his gloves. With a groan, he tried to pull himself up. He couldn't. His armour was too heavy, his arms too tired. This was a mistake; he knew that from the start. This was it…

A shrill squeak came from above. Cloth thudded against Gareth's helmet. The Rat looked down at him from the windowsill, dragging out a long, black curtain. What was it doing?

Reaching up with a shaking hand, Gareth grabbed the curtain with all the strength he could muster. It held. Planting his feet into wall, he slowly pulled himself up, arms burning all the while.

The curtain was just beginning to give way as Gareth thudded his heaving chest onto the windowsill. He scrambled over, legs flailing in the air as he collapsing to the wooden floor in a chinking heap.

He was alive. The Rat hopped onto Gareth's gasping chest, tilting its head in worry. He was too tired to care. A metal gauntlet carefully wrapped around it and deposited it on the floor.

He was alive…

Gareth stayed like that for a few minutes, just getting his breath back. He was in a study of some kind. For a noble's mansion, it was surprisingly humble. No gold or silver on the desk, cabinets or bookshelves, just fine wood furnishing and a shaggy rug.

The Rat skittered about the study, running up cabinet legs and checking through drawers. Every now and again, it stopped and sniffed. Gareth could understand the confusion; there was a thick smell of grain alcohol in the air, even with the open window. Whisky filled one of the cabinets, clearly visible through glass doors.

With a groan, Gareth crawled to his feet.

The heavy wood desk was sparsely covered; quills, an ink well, another bottle… and a familiar stack of notes. Gareth's heart skipped a beat. He walked over, picking them up. The looping text was familiar. He flicked through the pages… yes, he could see Cecilia's handwriting. This had to be it; now to make sure.

"Rat, over here," Gareth beckoned with an index finger.

The Rat stopped, standing on its hind legs for a moment before smiling and bounding over. It scrambled up onto the desk, eagerly tugging the top of the papers to its snout. After a few moments, it squeaked again, eagerly nodding.

Gareth rubbed his shoulder and breathed a relieved sigh. That was that, it was over. Well, he suspected that this study belonged to Larms, now he just needed to make sure of it. A glance down at the tabletop gave him his answer. There was a framed portrait of Larms, a unicorn mare and two colts that looked like a younger Styre. Wait, Styre had a brother? He never mentioned anything about that.

Gareth delicately picked it up. The family portrait was a sketch, and the hatching-style looked naggingly familiar. They stood in front of a simple townhouse. All of them were smiling, especially Larms. He bundled up his wife and sons in his forelegs. The burn scars weren't there. One of the boys was frowning glumly, while the other poked his tongue out. The mare was… well, she was beautiful, for a pony at least. There was a cutie mark of a constellation clearly displayed on her flank.

Wait, this style… yes, this was Cecilia's work. It was hard to tell at first; the style was amateurish. Even the sketches in the Castle of the two Sisters looked better. If that was the case, then Cecilia had probably known Larms for a very long time.

Another squeak, the Rat had run to a door, urging him to follow. Papers in hand, Gareth was tempted to just ignore it and find another way out. Yet, he'd never have gotten this far without it…

Rolling up the papers, he tapped them into a cylindrical scroll protector on his belt. Gareth walked around the desk and to the door.

Suddenly, the Rat threw up both claws, stopped him. It pressed an ear up against the door, urging him to the do the same.

Gareth frowned, tapping on his helmet. There was no way he could hear anything through—

Voices came from just outside the door. Hooves clopped against floorboards, keys jingled. Gareth held perfectly still. He quickly realised that couldn't hear anything from the ponies in courtyard anymore.

The door swung open. Larms and Flash Bang stood on the otherside. Larm's chuckling stopped, his forehoof frozen on doorknob, while Flash Bang simply stood agape.

For three seconds, none of them moved.

That was all the time Gareth needed. Snatching up a stool from his right, he brought it down on Larm's head with a violent roar. Wood splintered in all directions, and Larms went down like a groaning sack of bricks.

Flash Bang's horn crackled with lighting, eyes narrowing. A spell rolled up his—

The door slammed in his face with a wooden 'thunk'.

"Not today," Gareth grunted, grabbing the doorknob and pulling back. The door felt heavier this time, then he noticed the sparking, white horn wedged through it. Ah.

Grabbing the door's edge with both hands, Flash Bang's barely conscious, moaning body dragged along with it. His eyelids fluttered, glancing up at Gareth, mindlessly pawing at the door. Gareth almost felt a pang of guilt. Almost.

The Rat bounded forward, and this time Gareth joined him, stepping over the knocked out ponies.

Wherever they were going, they were running out of time. And mansion.

Gareth puffed, keeping his breath regulated as best he could. The mansion's halls were beautiful, marble statues of trees and apples, landscape paintings and portraits lining the walls while luxurious carpets covered the floor. It was a shame then, that it was also filled with guards that wanted his blood.

The Rat stopped at a 'T' junction, ushering Gareth to stand behind it. They peered around the corner. A guard at the other end of the hall was staring right at him.

Gareth whipped back, standing ramrod still. A confused greeting came down the hall. A few hoofsteps wandered towards him. Tense seconds passed as Gareth's heart hammered in his chest. Then, the hoofsteps started again, this time walking away.

Gareth gave a shuddering sigh, that wasn't the first time a pony 'swore he saw something'. It was only a matter of time until one spotted him, Larms woke up, or both.

The Rat tugged on his pant leg, pointing down the other hall. It was a dead-end; the portrait of a proud-looking earth pony stared ahead.

"That way?"

A nod. Gareth returned it.

Glancing over his shoulder, Gareth walked down the hall, stopping at the portrait. The rat sniffed at the golden frame. He'd never looted a place before, but he'd heard stories of there being secret passages hidden behind statues and pictures. Perhaps this was the same. Grabbing either end of the frame, Gareth lifted it off the hook.

"Aha!"

A bare wall stared back. Gareth frowned, standing the portrait on the adjacent wall. Huh, well, maybe there was something else—

"Squeak!" The Rat gestured to something above Gareth's head. A brick was slightly ajar from the rest of the wall. Frowning, Gareth reached up and pressed it in.

The sound of sliding stone echoed down the corridor as the wall began to sink into the ground. A thin, golden light peaked over the top, and as the stone fully pulled away, revealed what it belonged to: a mirror. It was different to the one in the Castle of the Two Sisters. Instead of an oval, it was rectangular, and instead of a shimmering pool for a surface, glassy fragments hung in a golden void, reflecting the contents of the hall.

The Rat, hesitantly this time, crept forward, sniffing at the corners of the mirror. Finally, it nodded, pointing inside.

"Through here?"

It nodded again, edging away from the mirror.

"You're not coming?"

The Rat shook its head, fearfully glancing away.

Gareth's eyes widened. If it wasn't coming, then if… whatever it was pointing him towards wasn't immediately apparent, he'd be lost. Or worse. Like it or not, he needed that Rat's help.

He struggled to find the words. He could instil courage in a man, that was easy: just appeal to their honour, or patriotism… but to a Rat?

"Listen…I'm scared too. Please, Celestia needs your help."

The Rat didn't look at him.

"No, then," Gareth muttered, rubbing his shoulder. "Listen, I— I just," words failed him. He knew what to say in English, how to inspire a human, but he just couldn't think—

'Problem,' Butter Pie's words rushed back. Gareth brushed a hand across his chest. 'Solution.'

He thought about what failure meant. If he didn't get Cecilia these papers, if he couldn't help her, if she failed because of him. That failure… was agonising. So then he took that agony and for once, allowed it to show through.

Gently reaching down, Gareth cupped the Rat in his hands and held it up. It squeaked in fear at first, especially when Gareth stood, but when it looked through his visor, it seemed to calm.

"Please," Gareth's voice was soft, earnest. "Help me."

The Rat stared. There was fear there, just like his own. He could understand that. What was on the other side could kill them both.

Slowly, it crawled out of his hands, then up his arm. Gareth could feel it moving, but he willed himself to remain still. Its weight felt like a hot coal against his body. He steeled himself for the bite to come, for it to dig underneath his clothes and savage him, to spread the plague, to spread death.

But the bite never came. It nestled itself on his shoulder, softly squeaking, urging him forward. Gareth began to sweat. This was… extremely uncomfortable. Even if he could only barely feel its claws through his hauberk. Yet, as the seconds went by, he found it to be… easier, lighter.

Straightening his back, Gareth stepped through the mirror.

Chapter 12: Splinters & dreams

Celestia couldn't remember the last time she'd stepped into this room.

The doors were shattered inwards, and the splinters crunched underhoof as she walked across the floor. The damage was recent, Gareth had been through here. She could see him in her mind's eye, shouting into the depths of a dead castle, looking for his missing wife. Looking for her.

Everything was as she had left it. Golden curtains, plush pillows, a beautiful full-length mirror and a rug that you could curl up and sleep on. She blinked.

Everything was as she left it… as she abandoned it. Light faded as reality returned. Moths had devoured the curtains, the pillows were hard sacks, her mirror was shattered and the rug was nothing more than a few scraps of fabric.

"Ma'am?" The Colonel peered out the corner of the stairwell. "Are you alright?"

"Yes," Celestia responded. "Forgive me, but I must do this on my own. Please, wait with the Pegasus express team."

"Ma'am," he said, pulling back. His hoofsteps echoed up the stairs.

Celestia turned back, taking a step. Crunching paper reached her ears. She looked down, snatching a sheet up from the floor. It was a sketch of Rockingham's twin-spired gates. She… remembered this. The smell of grass and soil filled the air. A fresh spring breeze blew through her hair.

She looked up. A trail of scattered sketches lead from her ivory vanity. A sketch of a dog, a tree, a knight on a horse. Eggs, fruit, a market place. The sights, sounds, tastes and smells of England all rushed back. The faces changed over time, as did the castle.

Gareth was right; she had been through the mirror more than once. The world of humans had… charmed her. They were… there was something about them that enthralled her. She remembered that. But whatever that quality was…

What was it? She thought, brushing the sketches aside. There had to have been a reason.

A sketch of Gareth stared her in the face. There he was, riding Potestas. Celestia had been sitting next to a tree when she drew this one. His face was commanding, urging the destrier forward.

Something was wrong. When she looked at the picture, she ought to have remembered feeling elated, or at least respect, but she felt neither. No; she felt distrust, even anger. The person depicted was not a nice person.

No, she didn't have time for this. Celestia laid the picture back down, opening the doors of the vanity and searching inside. A thick binder of notes lay upon the bottom rung, painted black. Celestia towed it out with a flick of her horn.

She held it up in the air, slowly turning it. The book was one of the few things here that hadn't decayed with time. An uncomfortable feeling wrapped around her heart. Even without opening it, she could see her sister hunched over it, furiously scribbling into the pages. Every now and again, she stopped and glared at Celestia, jealously, playfully, covering what she'd written with a shoulder.

After a moment, Celestia realised that she was… scared of this thing. She was scared of a book. Just what would have Gareth done if he saw her now? No, she knew. He'd roll his eyes, grab the book and pull it open. He wouldn't be afraid of something like this. Just like with those doors, he'd move forward with dedication… he wouldn't be afraid.

"But he was afraid, wasn't he?" Celestia found herself murmuring. There was fear, real fear, in Gareth's eyes when she told him to go with the Rat. He didn't want to do it, but he did it anyway… because she made him do it. Did she take advantage of—?

Celestia squeezed her eyes shut. No, she just was pushing him. He needs to learn to accept this world, and that's never a pleasant process. Now, it was time to do some accepting of her.

The binder hit the vanity with a thud, scattering dust. The spine creaked open loudly, revealing an archaic script of Equestrian.

'Sun butt begonne' a scribble noted in the margin, accompanied by a frowning blue alicorn's face. A memory of childish excitement filled her mind. She used to peek through this book all the time: her sister's dream diary.

Celestia flipped forward into the introduction. The intent of the diary was laid out: research and documentation. At first, it was purely for research, but eventually it came to be a full account of her activities; whose dreams she dove into, what happened and when. Hopefully Celestia wouldn't need to read too far before—

'I have finally found a consistent method.' That was it. Celestia narrowed her eyes onto the passage. 'Dream magic is fickle, but controllable in the right situation. There art two requirements. One, the dream-div'r wilt be sitting down in view of the moonlight. Two, the dreamer wilt be asleep. With these requirements met, the dream-div'r wilt then cast a battery of spells which art list'd as follows—'

She read on. The spells were simple. 'Drowsiness', a 'protection' charm, and a 'far-seeing' ritual were among the twelve listed. Casting them one at a time was child's play. Casting them in quick succession, on the other hand… that would not be as easy.

Celestia took stock, glancing around the room. Everything that she needed was here, albeit decayed. Chalk would make a ritual circle, a few restoration spells will spin up a bed and the moon was starting to peak over the night horizon.

With a flick of her horn, the decayed cushions flew over to the balcony. They rejuvenated mid-flight, immediately fluffing into lush, white pillows. Another flick and golden curtains spun themselves out of the muck, laying atop the cushions. Celestia walked over, slowly lowering herself down.

Royal Guardsponies milled about in the courtyard, busying themselves at their campsite. Looking to the right, she could see Canterlot Castle in the distance. Gareth was there… and so was her sleeping target.

Her horn lit up in gold, pulsing repeatedly. She drew the ritual circle into the railings, continuing up the wall and into the doorway behind her. Then the spells came. 'Drowsiness', 'protection', 'far-seeing', and more, one after another. Each felt harder than the last, like a sprint down a long corridor.

Cecilia sucked in a breath, stepping through the church doors. Each step was carefully measured in a bride's march. Her white finery flowed in her wake, held up by Sister Ann. Pews creaked as familiar, smiling faces turned to her. She nervously smiled back.

At the end of the aisle, Gareth was there. He was dressed in near-full armour, missing only his helmet and cuirass. Far from composed, his lower lip quivered, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards. His fists opened and closed, not stopping until she'd taken her place by his side. He looked like he wanted to forget the ceremony and sweep her off her feet right then. Cecilia secretly hoped that he would.

Father Clemens cleared his throat, raising the bible in his hands. He seemed… unusually sombre, giving Cecilia a strange expression. After a few moments, he began to read their vows. They were long and winding, but Cecilia already knew them by heart. She passed the time by staring into Gareth's loving brown eyes.

"I do," Gareth said with that gorgeous smile spreading across his face. Cecilia flinched; were they already up to this part?

"And you," Clemens said, turning to her. "'Princess' Cecilia of 'Equestria', do you take Sir Gareth Fletcher as your lawfully wedd—"

Cracking and charring wood echoed through the air. Gasps of fear came from the crowd as they looked up at the ceiling. Blazing timber and tiles tore free, crashing into the floor. Within seconds, the roof peeled away, revealing a blinding orange sky.

The Sun stared down upon them. Six spears of fire extended out of its body, waving like swords.

Fear turned to terror as the wedding crowd scattered, fleeing the church in any direction possible. Within moments, through either courage --or paralysed in shock-- only Gareth and Clemens stood by her side.

Then blazing spears streaked down upon them. Cecilia's body felt like iron, transfixed by the encroaching doom. This wasn't something that could be fought.

Neither Gareth nor Clemens knew that. Gareth grabbed her shoulders while Clemens shoved the pulpit forward. Falling in a heap, they ducked down behind it. Gareth held her head in his arms while Clemens held his cross high.

But the Sun could not be denied. The spears harmlessly passed through the wood, the cross, and Gareth's body. They wrapped around her arms, legs and torso, dragging her up into the sky. Cecilia screamed, struggling against it.

A sickening feeling started in her stomach, then extended out to her throat. The feeling kept going, up through her mouth, then her head, then past it. Her fingers and toes cracked, turning to stumps and crawling back into her hands and feet. She looked down. Forehooves stared back.

Gareth and Clemens stared with wide-eyed horror. Clemens was the first to move. His robe twisting as he stepped back, mutely shaking his head. With a final gasp, he turned and fled.

But Gareth didn't move. His expression slowly changed to bitter despair. He didn't move, and within a few seconds, he alone stood in the burning church.

Celestia's eyes snapped open, staring down at the remains of her nightmare. At once, the spears of fire released her. The lucidity spell has done its job.

Rough beginning notwithstanding, she thought, it looks like I was successful.

She worked out an imaginary kink in her neck, trying to recall what the next step was. Ah, that's right, the Notes mentioned following a 'chord'. With enough willpower, one could journey into the dream of any pony of their choosing. Bad dreams were particularly easy to find… and harrowing. For the sake of the kingdom, Celestia hoped that Noble Era's sleep was at least troubled enough for her to find him.

With a wave of her horn, blinding day was swept aside by a starry night. A rainbow of winding coloured trails followed the stars, stretching out into the horizon. Noble Era's magic was a bright white, a relatively rare colour.

She focused on some of Era's… 'habits'. The way he held his head slightly higher than others, that arrogant smirk, the way he bowed low but kept his eyes open— as if mocking the recipient. Within moments a white line glowed, alighting Celestia's way. Now she just needed to—

"Wait."

Celestia looked down. Gareth stared back. Standing atop the collapsed altar, he was seemingly oblivious of the fire closing in around him. He reached out to her with a forlorn hand as she floated further and further away.

"Please," he whispered, sounding so close that she could have touched him. "Do you, or do you not?"

"What?" Celestia muttered.

"…Will you marry me?"

The fires gathered higher. She had complete control over the dream: Celestia could snuff them out in a moment. Glancing over her shoulder, the trail awaited. She couldn't afford to waste time.

With a sweep of her forehoof, the fire around Gareth vanished. The crowd reappeared in the pews, laughing and smiling as if nothing had happened. Father Clemens stepped back behind the pulpit, righting it and gesturing Gareth to return. Then, another Cecilia appeared next to Gareth, snaking her arm around his and cuddling into his side.

But Gareth didn't turn away. He just kept staring up at Celestia, unmoving, unblinking. Even as she reassembled the church roof, he didn't so much as flinch. A chill ran up Celestia's spine, that silently accusing stare burnt into her subconscious…

The quicker she found Noble Era's dream, the better.

Flying alongside the white trail, Celestia looked up at the other threads. They terminated into similarly coloured stars, each roughly the same size as Celestia. Mumbles and muffled noises emanated from them. Imagines of what was contained inside occasionally surfaced.

One dream featured a tiny filly climbing a tree with her dog. Another had a colt flying on a mattress. One of them was different; the star was twisted, sickly. The mare inside it was violently transforming into a changeling drone. A nightmare. If only she had more time.

"What say you, my love?" Noble Era's voice echoed. It came from her front—

Uh oh. Celestia threw her wings out, abruptly halting. A moment passed, she turned looked down at the white burning star in front of her.

"The chances that the Diamond Dogs could mount a sustained offensive is unlikely," a noble mare responded in a cultured Canterlot accent that sounded disturbingly familiar.

There was a flash of imagery. A red carpet, unicorn nobles, pillars and stained glass murals. Noble Era was dreaming about the throne room.

She grasped the star, kneading the surface. It felt strange, but not uncomfortably so; like warm porridge and bed sheets. Slowly, she shifted the viewpoint about, trying to get a better picture of what was going on.

Instead of just one, there were two seats on the Equestrian throne. Princess Celestia… and Noble Era sat side-by-side.

"Indeed," said Noble Era, turning to the unicorn audience. He wore silver jewellery upon his head and hooves, mirroring Celestia's. "We shall remind the Diamond Dogs of that fact. There need not be war provided they are appropriately—"

Celestia stopped listening. Indignation bubbled up in her chest. No… wait, she thought, this was just his dream. He was not responsible for what his dreams showed him.—

Noble Era turned and nuzzled her dream counterpart. They were smiling, blushing.

—And that was it. She'd had quite enough of this.

The notes suggested that with enough prodding, one could access memories of ponies as well. It was naïve to think that she could gather anything… useful from a surface dream. The only catch was that she had to be a little more 'hoofs on'.

Well, there was nothing for it. Celestia pushed into the star.

The folds of reality parted, and Celestia stepped into Noble Era's study. Books and display cases were dusty, unbroken. She spotted something in a case to the right, a familiar bow. Ah, yes… this must have been where Gareth 'acquired' it.

Noble Era sat at his desk. His horn glowed white, scribbling a quill across parchment. A heavy book stood in a bracket at one end. Every now and again, Noble Era glanced at it in reference, sounding out words. English words.

The door to the study slammed open. Chucky Larms stormed in, glaring daggers at Noble Era before bucking the door closed.

Noble Era turned slowly: not scared, just annoyed. "Hello Representative Larms, may I help you?"

"Era," Larms growled through grit teeth. Suddenly, his mouth twisted up in a rictus grin. "I've gotten your letter… I wanted to give you a chance to explain yourself to me in person."

"There's nothing more to be said," Era replied. "I see no need to use the plan. The plot was meant to weed out a pretender to the throne."

"You still think that's her?" Larms let out a hollow, barking laugh. He surged up to Era's side and snatched the book off the pedestal. Flicking to the back, Larms shoved it into Era's face. "Read it, Era, READ WHAT IT SAYS. What does it say?"

Era's muzzle twitched. He slowly pushed the book away to glare at Larms.

"Don't feel like reading it? Allow me!" Larms mockingly cleared his throat. "To whomever is reading this, please forgive me. I am leaving. I cannot tell you where and I will not return. Do not attempt to follow; you will not find me." He looked up, snapping the book closed. "Celestia, FORMER Princess of Equestria!"

"What...?" Celestia breathed. A burning, gnawing sense of horror welled up inside.

"That pony on the throne," Larms said, jabbing a forehoof to the door, "is an imposter, whether she knows that or not. The Celestial throne was supposed to remain empty!"

Everything went out of focus. It was true. Larms was right, she… she really did abandon them.

No! No, this proved nothing, not yet. This was… just a memory! There was still a chance it was a fabrication. Noble Era could have manipulated all this to—

A wet crack rang out. Celestia looked up. Larms lay sprawled out on the floor, his muzzle bleeding.

Era pulled his bloodied forehoof back, his mouth twitching in barely concealed fury.

"No… she isn't," Era stated with pure conviction. He gathered a handkerchief, cleaning his forehoof, before throwing it down to Larms. "If there is even a flicker of her old self, then Princess Celestia will always be my liege. When we promised to serve her, I knew that she would return, regardless of her final orders to us. I waited two and a half years to find her."

"You…" Larms muttered, staggering to his hooves. "You tipped the Colonel off about the Crystal Mirror."

"I did. However, none of that matters now." Era held up a picture, a sketch of Gareth's armour. "Our chief concerns should be learning more about these humans, not questioning our ruler. Celestia is an alicorn, plain and simple. Should you continue to attempt to push your treasonous agenda, then I will withdraw my support of your representation."

Larm's gaze promised violent, his voice deathly cold. "Do that, and you destroy your own reputation as well. You'd be banished from the castle."

"Yes," Era said, unflinchingly. "And If I am to be struck down, then I will cast you down so hard that your body would break my fall." He pointed towards the door. "Now, Representative Larms, I have work to do. Get out."

They glared at each other for several tense seconds. Each one looked ready to pounce upon the other and tear this room apart. Finally, Larms broke away. He walked to the door.

"Just remember something, boy," Larms snarled, pulling it open. "You'd never had gotten that book if it wasn't for me. I want that translation."

The door slammed closed. A second later, Era buried his face into his forehooves. Rubbing it several times, he glanced down at his well-ordered notes. With a sigh of regret, he turned about and stood up.

"Bravado and bluster," he muttered. "I'm running out of time. Larms is going to make his move, soon. The moment he does all this research will be for nothing."

He was right, Celestia realised. If Larms was implicated, then she'd have banished Noble Era as a matter of course… Oh god. That's exactly what happened.

Celestia looked about the clean room; it was all coming together now. Larms had attacked Noble Era. He was the mastermind behind the attack. Of course, there was still the remote chance that it was all a fabrication, but that chance was decreasing by the second. She'd gotten nearly everything she needed from this memory. Now all that was left was to find out when it happened.

There was a distant thunk of arrow on hay. Era looked over to the window. He trotted up to it, pushing it open. Celestia followed behind, glancing over his shoulder.

Gareth stood out in the courtyard, lowering his arrow-arm, smiling at the target. Gleaming Horizon walked down from the gazebo, cheering him on. She held up a scroll, asking Gareth something. He nodded, gesturing her over.

Era hummed in thought, glancing up to the shelf next to the window. There was a collection of ambassador's pills sitting on the first shelf. "Perhaps I have a way of speeding up the process—"

Suddenly, everything went black.

Something was rubbing Celestia's withers. Her eyes flittered open. She was on the balcony again. The cool of the night raked through her fur.

"Ma'am, please, you must wake up," the Colonel said.

"Colonel?" Celestia mumbled, gently pushing his forehooves away. "What is happening? What's wrong?"

"Ma'am." The Colonel's face turned severe. "The Nobility of Canterlot demand your attendance."

"Who… which house?"

"All of them."

Chapter 13: Crystals & cracks

Time slowed the moment Gareth stepped into the mirror. A multi-coloured tunnel of blinding light enveloped him, shattering glass rumbled in his ears.

It was fast, all too fast. Gareth had ridden horses as fast as they could go, but even Potestas could never reach such speeds.

Then his foot hit the ground on the other side. The tunnel of light vanished, replaced by pitch darkness and the ringing in his ears. The Rat, hidden and trembling underneath his tabard, refused to budge.

“C’mon,” Gareth said, fishing his companion out and holding him up. “It’s over, look.”

It was hard to see far, the shattered-glass Mirror didn’t cast much light, but even that was enough to see what lined the walls: crystals. Massive, pillar-sized crystals. They filled a cavern big enough to fit a castle. The red glow of the Mirror reflected off them, marred by a human-shaped silhouette standing in front of it.

“God above,” Gareth gasped. This place… he had to show Cecilia: she’d love it. Now, if only he had a torch.

The Rat chirped and dove off his hand. Paws skittered across stone, running into the darkness. Within moments, he returned, struggling to drag a tattered flagpole.

Ah-hah. Gareth grinned underneath his helmet, walking over. He tugged off his glove and felt the fabric. Cotton, probably only a few years old. It would burn well.

“Squeak?” The Rat stood up on his hindlegs, grinning hopefully.

“Yes. Good.” Gareth nodded. He bundled up the flag around the pole and struck from flint from his belt.

It burned brightly, illuminating the surrounding grounds. Even with his visor down, this would be more than enough. The torch's light revealed the remains of a campsite, just a few yards away. The collapsed tent and dusty cooking utensils attested to at least a few months of abandonment. There was a flag of Equestria just outside the tent, presumably just like the one that was now lighting their way.

Well, at least he was still in Equestria. Gareth glanced back to the glass Mirror.

It looked the same as it was on the other side.

Hopefully this Mirror didn't have any 'three-day' limitation nonsense. What was it that Cecilia said? Ah, yes, 'Never use an Artefact without knowing what it does.'

There was a tug at his boot. The Rat pointed to the outline of a gothic church that loomed over them.

Gareth sucked in a breath, stepping back. How the hell did he miss that?

Not a stone out of place, not even the mortar was cracked. There wasn’t a hint of decay anywhere. In England that was a sign of an occupied castle. In Equestria… well, that meant magic, most likely. The Rat squeaked again, pointing higher. A stained-glass mirror – built just above the double-door entrance – depicted a white alicorn standing opposite a brown griffin.

“…C'mon,” Gareth muttered. He kneeled down, offering his free hand to the Rat.

The Rat gave a slow squeak, stepping back.

“What is it now?” Gareth grunted impatiently.

He squeaked again, pointing at Gareth’s bare hand. Gareth hadn’t put his glove back on.

Gareth pulled his hand back so fast that it bounced off his hauberk. Oh God, he nearly contracted the plague! OhGodohGodohGod—

The Rat shoved a claw into his mouth, trying to stifle a laugh at Gareth’s expense. It wasn’t working.

Gareth's cheeks burned. Grumbling, he snatched up his leather glove, tugged it on, and grabbed the Rat. They were wasting time here; there was a book to find.

The Rat took a moment to snuggle down in his hand before sniffing the air. With an excited squeak, he pointed a claw towards the doors. They looked thick and heavy… and without a doorknob.

Gareth walked forward. Perhaps it wasn't locked? He nudged it with the tip of his boot.

The door groaned open under its own power, iron grinding against stone. Dust rained down; it was dark inside. The Rat sniffed again and chirped, urging him ahead with a claw.

Something felt wrong about this place. This wasn't a church. Churches were places of fellowship, community and worship. This felt more like a mausoleum. With torch held high, Gareth stepped inside.

Pale glowing lights stretched out in the distance, lining the rectangular stone walls. Golden arched windows began to brighten into existence. With each step taken the lights grew brighter until – upon reaching the very centre – the entirety of the auditorium had grown bright as day. The floors and wall were crafted of the finest stone; the ceiling was painted a sky blue with an enormous orange crystal for a sun. Finally, the light from the arched window turned into rainbows as they revealed their true form: stained glass windows.

The sudden burst of colour and light was overwhelming despite Gareth's visor. He’d never seen such a blatant display of magical power. To alight an entire room, all at once, with nary a candle, a torch or a match... and those stained glass windows! He had to see what they were!

Shapes filled in at his approach. A brown-feathered griffin, nearly identical to the one before, stood with his head bowed. One of his eyes was silver and the other, a burned out socket; his brow twisted into a stoic glare. The griffin was armed with brass chest plate buckled onto his torso and a pale green longsword in his claws. Behind him, background swept out into a long, mountain range. To his left, standing upon the distant mountain, was Cecilia’s sister. To his right stood Cecilia. Far above them was an ominous mass of writhing, black crystals.

“Who,” Gareth breathed. He set the Rat on his shoulder and pressed a hand up against the glass. “Who are—”

His hand passed through like it was thin air.

What! Gareth shouted, jumping back and holding the torch out like a sword.

The Rat shrieked in panic, giving him a disbelieving stare. Seconds passed. The window shed its silent light.

“I...I’m fine,” Gareth murmured. He stepped forward, stabbing at the mirror with the torch. The tip vanished, and then reappeared as he pulled back. “I’m just... very confused. Is the book in there?”

Giving a sigh, the Rat rapped his knuckles on Gareth’s helmet and pointed to the far side of the church. Standing on a wooden pulpit was a shabby-looking tome: Gareth’s target.

He breathed a sigh of relief. Gareth strode across the stone floors with purpose. He'd about had his fill of sorcery.

The other stained glass windows filled out as well. There were eight in total. Some of the figures held weapons, some held books, one of them even wore a jester’s cap, but there were all male, all stood in the centre, and all had Cecilia by their side.

Cecilia’s husbands... his predecessors, the ones she loved before him. He wasn’t sure how to feel about that. On one hand, the thought of Cecilia lying with another made his stomach squirm. On the other, well, he hardly made it a secret about how many maidens he’d known before her. They’d speak about it later. He doubted that she even remembered this place. For now, the book.

Bound in hard leather, the diary was strikingly plain. No glow of magic nor sprinkle of gold, the only thing that distinguished it was a symbol of the sun crudely engraved upon the cover. The cover opened into smooth and fresh pages. Sparkles of light fell from them instead of dust. Unfortunately… the pages were blank.

Gareth frowned, flicking through the book. Nothing. The book was empty. No! This couldn't have been a distraction, could it?

The Rat leapt onto the pulpit, glancing down before giving an apologetic shrug.

"It's okay," Gareth grumbled. Taking the book, real or not, would be better than coming back with nothing. There wasn't really any choice; he scooped up the diary and reached over to the Rat.

Only the Rat was not looking at him, staring over behind the pulpit.

Gareth followed its gaze, holding up the torch.

Upon the wall was another arched window but, unlike the others it didn't depict anyone. The glass was semi-transparent; Gareth could make out the outline of crystals on the other side. Glued in the middle was note.

Ice flowed into Gareth's veins. The torch clattered to the floor. He recognised the hoof-writing. Gareth stepped around the side of the pulpit, mesmerised, reaching out and pulling the note away. There were two passages, Equestrian and, right below it, English.

To the Lady-in-Waiting of the Sun,

I have left Equestria, and I will not return. If it is answers that you seek then look at the diary behind you. It's contents display only under the presence of a certain spell. I would beg you, however, to ensure that no-one follows, that no-one comes to look for me. I have harmed Equestria enough, and I fear that they may harm themselves more before they have truly healed from their reliance upon me.

Translate my diary or leave it here forever. Do what you feel is right. Equestria belongs to the Equestrians now, as it always should have been.

-Celestia, former Princess of Equestria

The note must have been written years ago.

"Years ago," Gareth murmured. He pressed his hand up against the glass.

It was solid.

Fire replaced ice. He let out a bellowing shout, slamming his metal fist into the glass.

Cracks filled his ears as spider webs raced across the glass's surface. The sketch fluttered down to the ground. A high-pitched gasp of fear came from behind. The Rat looked on in horror, cupping his claws across his mouth.

He stopped. Gareth looked down at his gauntlet, then to the not lying at his feet, now showered in sprinkled glass.

She lied to him. She did leave Equestria. Gareth was nothing more than a patsy.

"I'm sorry." A voice spoke from behind.

All thoughts of Cecilia vanished. Gareth turned in place, drawing his dagger. He narrowed his eyes, glancing about through his visor.

Larms stood in the middle of the church, watching with a neutral expression despite his head wound. A white bandage wrapped the tip of his head and around his chin. He trotted forward, alone, seemingly without a care in the world.

"Larms," Gareth growled. He stepped to the pulpit, shielding the book from Larms.

There was a flash of blue light in the distance, outside the double doors. It was only a flash, but it was enough to see the outline of more than a dozen equestrian forms. They wore golden barding. Seconds later, the door closed with an eerie silence.

Sweat broke out on Gareth's skin. Gareth dropped his stance, sheathing his dagger. He was cornered.

The sound of hoof-on-stone stopped with Larms before him. He glanced at the book, the glass arch, and then back. Sadly shaking his head, Larms plonked his flank onto the ground and pulled out a small metal flask. As the cap popped off, the smell of whisky filled the air.

Gareth slowly lowered himself down, watching Larms' every move. He hoped the Rat was smart enough to hide and stay hidden. One of them needed to warn Cecilia.

"Drink?" Larms offered the flask.

Gareth politely shook his head. He couldn't quite remember the Equestrian words for 'No thanks, I don't drink poison'.

Larms shrugged, muttering something to the effect of 'suit yourself' before taking a long swig. Larms watched Gareth for a few moment before sighing again. "Alright, time to come clean."

Gareth looked away. The last thing he wanted to do was… wait. That was English. He glanced back, eyes wide.

"Surprised?" Larms chuckled darkly. "Don't be. The Crystal Mirror is a marvelous invention. Just much do you know about it, Gareth?"

Panic and confusion combined, Gareth inched back. This… how did— when did— no! Cecilia kept the Mirror a secret!

"Calm yourself," Larm stated, unmoving. "The Mirror changes ponies to humans, helps us to survive our short expedition. Gives us clothing, motor-functions… and the ability to speak. Yet, it leaves out small, less-vital, things. We have no understanding of the local culture, have no fine control over our bodies, and we cannot recognise complex symbols… like writing."

That clicked in Gareth's mind. Noble Era's desk flashed before him. "You needed Era to translate the diary."

"Correct! And those pegasi that went through the Mirror to fetch Celestia?" Larms continued, "They got the ability to speak as well, even if they didn't use it beyond 'What-ho yer majesty, oop, into the sack ye' go!' Now, far be it from an enterprising gentleman such as myself to waste something like that. I had Noble Era 'fortify' an Ambassador's pill for me. Cumulus was kind enough to, uh, 'lend me his voice' for this. You and I, man to man, having one last drink before the end."

"What end?" Gareth asked.

Larms paused at that. His features turned down, looking back at his flask. "Because… well, because I've come to believe that you truly love your wife. I want you to help her."

"Fuck you."

"Hey, I'm serious lad!" Larms exclaimed. A wry smile come to his lips before reuniting it with his flask. "Gareth, my lad, do you really think that Celestia is happy here?"

That struck deep. 'No' was the immediate answer, but Cecilia wasn't here because she wanted to be happy. Hell, she wasn't even here because she chose to, not at first. She chose to stay...

"I know what you're thinking, Gareth. I've been there before." Larms gestured to the cracked mirror behind him. "She left us. What's to stop her from just leaving you?"

Gareth's mouth went dry. He wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

"She – Princess Celestia, that is— left us, left Equestria, because she left like she couldn't fix it." Larms took another swig; this was one deeper, lasting seconds. He came up for air with a gasp. "I'd wager she's counting down the hours with you."

That rage came back, drawing Gareth's hands into fists. "She… I-I—"

"I'm sorry Gareth," Larms said, sadly shaking his head. "Really, I am. You don't need to explain, either. You did a brave thing to follow her here, but, the thing is, you and I are talking about different people. Hell, if it's any consolation, you never had the chance to meet the real Princess Celestia--"

"Bullshit!" Gareth shouted, standing to his feet. "That IS Cecilia. She IS my wife!"

A dark, low chuckle came from Larm's lips. "And that's something to be proud of? She went to great lengths to leave Equestria, y'know. Unless you STILL think it was an accident. C'mon, an immortal queen gets hit on the noggin' with a bucket and she just… loses it all? All those memories. All those emotions and planning, centuries away with just 'Konk; oh dearie me'!"

Gareth grasped his hands. "She--"

"Wouldn't lie to you?" Larms shook his head. "I'm sorry lad, but she knew us for much longer. Princess Celestia tells white lies, all to protect you, o'course. She wanted to protect us, didn't want to tell the real reason for going. This was all by design."

Gareth remembered the Everfree.

"Th-this is not a place for humans. You must leave," the white horse said.

Gareth's lungs burned, he needed to breathe. He flicked up his visor and pulled out the cloth, gasping for air. He staggered away, towards the shattered glass. It crunched as his shoulder landed into it. She was lying to him, even back then.

"You're a soldier, aren't you?" Larms said, standing with him.

Gareth froze, hands pressed up against his helmet.

"What… what if your liege told you that she was holding back the realm?" Larm's eyes were earnest. He stepped closer. "What if she told you, that she was going to destroy herself, so utterly, that if she came back, it simply wouldn't be her anymore?"

"She… s-she—"

Larms nodded. "Is your wife, and she needs you. Listen to me Gareth; I've come to believe that her coming back was a good thing. Equestria needs to let Princess Celestia go on their own terms, not hers. If you truly love her, and if you truly respect her love for Equestria, you will help her do that. She won't listen to us, but she'll listen to you."

Gareth squeezed his eyes shut. "Listen to me...?"

I-I just don't know what to do, Gareth! I can't do this, I don't remember how!

He remembered brushed his fingers through her mane. Consoling her.

She couldn't help it. Celestia's face twitched, her poker face shattered as she burst out laughing.

In the throne room, the mask broke away. Gareth helped her delay rebellion.

Gareth approached. His gloved hand reached out, gently touching her feathers. Fine leather fingers found where the bone of her wing was. A chill went up Celestia's spine as Gareth's warm, bare hand began to feel around the base where feather met fur.

Back in the Everfree, he tried to come to terms with his wife's new form.

Therein lies the problem, doesn't it? You affect her, Gareth, deeply. I've seen it.

Noble Era was right. He DID affect her.

"Gareth?" Larms sounded concerned, or at least tried to. "Are you alright, lad?"

Realisation burnt into Gareth's mind. Larms was right. He never did meet Princess Celestia. Never. Gareth didn't know why Cecilia wanted to try to ruling Equestria again, he didn't fully understand it, but that wasn't why he was here. He wasn't in love with a horse-princess who turned a woman. He was in love with his wife, who just so happened to have been turned into a horse.

"Gareth." Concern changed to caution. "What is your answer?"

"I get it now," Gareth said. He slowly pushed off the window, glass cracking as he did so. Chances for escape were slim, but he would not surrender.

"Get what?"

"My answer is 'no'," Gareth said, flicking down the visor. "I don't know what's in Cecilia's head. I don't think she really does either. Maybe she'll stick around and rule, maybe she'll leave forever. Maybe... maybe she'll even leave me, one day. That's her choice, not mine. I'll follow her to hell and back."

Larm's muzzle twisted into a snarl. "You're an idiot."

"Really?" Gareth said. "Because you're doing the exact same thing, Larms. You follow Celestia, and I follow Cecilia. But do you want to know the difference between them? Every day, every, single, day, Cecilia thought about Equestria. I could see it in the way she spoke, walked, and thought. Princess Celestia gave up, and Cecilia hasn't. So, how about you stop trying to follow the orders of a monarch that abandoned you, and start following one that hasn't?"

A shadow passed over Larm's eyes.

The hairs on the back of Gareth's neck stood up. He reached for his dagger.

A blur of motion replaced Larms as he rushed forward. The blur turned in place, hind legs kicked up into Gareth's stomach.

Pain shattered through Gareth's chest. Air, blood and spittle splattered over the inside of his visor. By the time he realised his feet weren't touching the ground, his back smashed into glass. He was tumbling, falling.

At first, he could see stone, then blurring crystals. It was all moving so fast. His clothes flapped in the wind. Then the crash came.

Jagged crystals stabbed into his back, shattering metal ringlets and dragging up along his spine. His legs contacted crystal, twisting him into a roll. Clattering metal filled the air as he rolled to a halt on the edge of a crystalline outcrop.

It was quiet now. Everything felt distant… laying there spread-eagled, covered under a veil of deceptive warmth, like a freshly broken bone. Gareth tried to move, but his limbs simply wouldn’t listen. He needed to move, he needed to warn Cecilia. He needed to… n-needed to…

Slowly, the pale blue crystals faded from view.

The Pegasus-express chariot touched down onto the moonlit landing balcony with a muffled thud. A group of servants rushed forward, unhooking the exhausted pega-guards before ushering Celestia and the Colonel into the halls. Within moments, a new group of pega-guards joined with up and begun escorting them to the Throne room.

It's the middle of the night, why are they so active? Celestia glanced at the steely-faced guards next to her. There was little to do but follow along for now.

The light of the moon tinged everything, everything familiar felt strange; the glint off the Royal Guard's armour; the red of the carpets; gold candleholders that stained grey, revealing its true hue only under torchlight. Even the doors of the Throne room, a sight burnt into her memory, felt wrong. Only after a moment did she realise that there were no guards standing at attention.

Was this even her Canterlot anymore?

"Ma'am?" The Colonel ventured. "Are you sure?"

"Colonel?"

He pursed his brows. "Ma'am, the repercussions of your dream journey… you know this could well be a trap."

"Yes… it could be," Celestia sadly admitted. The flashes of the dream kept coming back. Every time she pushed back the idea of her abandoning Equestria, it just came back stronger.

The Colonel looked her over with calculating eyes. "Ma'am, I don't care what you think you saw, but I want you to know, that I am with you. You don't have anything to prove to those cowardly jackals. We pegasi have always stood by your side." He gestured to the Royal Guard escorting her. "Not a single pega-guard were among the traitors, doesn't that mean anything to you?"

"I am grateful to every Guard that did their duty, Colonel." That was the truth.

"Princess Celestia, you know that they wish you harm!" With an instructive swish of the Colonel's wing, the group moved into a defensive formation. "Please, let us evacuate you to Cloudsdale! We can find the Prince-Consort, rescue what ponies we can find, take stock, plan and then come up with a new strategy. But walking into that throne room is political suicide!"

A cowardly part of Celestia agreed with him. Cloudsdale was safe; many of her Guards were either trained or raised there. Running seemed like the smart idea, but…

"Princess, please!" The Colonel urged with earnest emotion. "We cannot lose you!"

That was the point, wasn't it? All of Equestria seemed to hinge on her. "Colonel, I have dedicated my life to Equestria's well-being. If Canterlot has decided that it does not need me anymore… that is their right. And IF that is true, then I want them to look me in the eye as they denounce me. They owe me that much."

"So your mind is set…" the Colonel looked to his men, nodding. With hardly a word, they dispersed, galloping down the halls to parts unknown.

Her heart skipped a beat. She stepped back, watching their retreat. "Colonel?"

He gave her a reassuring smile. "Don't you worry, Ma'am. Fool plan or not, I, and all the other pegasai are by your side."

Warmth welled up in Celestia's chest. She looked up to the Throne room doors, inhaling deeply. Focusing inwards, golden light accumulated upon her horn and pressed the doors open.

Creaking, groaning metal gave way to a thunderous murmur of over a thousand noble mares and stallions. The Throne room was dark; there wasn't a single Royal Guard to be seen. Only the wall-mounted torches and a shaft of moonlight illuminated the sea of writhing, muted colours. They watched hawkishly as they approached, gossiping when they were far, silencing when they came close.

Their eyes felt like pins and needles. Celestia clamped her eyes on the throne, schooling her features, silencing her heart.

A royal servant mare stepped out from the shadows, bowing respectfully before her.

Where is Gleaming? The thought quickly lead to far more dreadful ones. Reaching the foot of her throne, she turned and sat, trying to avoid the horde's gaze.

The Colonel, who had been carefully walking behind her, ushered the servant out of the way, ignoring her scandalised expression. He turned to the crowd, standing proud and declaring, "Her royal highness, Princess Celestia is in attendance."

The Throne room exploded into an uproar of accusations.

Chapter 14: Shrapnel & treason

Crystals, faded and distant, filtered into view. Gareth blinked awake.

Then the pain came. Pain that stiffened his bones; stabbed every gasp of air; clouded his vision. He was still here, where he fell. He forced himself to struggle through it, willing his trembling arms to push himself up. "Got to... gotta—"

Pain stabbed into his chest. With a gasp, he slapped back into the hard crystal surface, accompanied by a fresh wave of agony. The dust filtered into his visor, digging into his lips and eyes.

Gareth hacked and wheezed. A struggling hand lifted his visor with a creak. How far did he fall? Tucking his arm in, he rolled onto his back.

A gaping, vertical chasm stretched out before him. Crystals lined the walls in a rough, conical spiral. The church from whence he fell stretched up into the distance, easily over a hundred yards above. The natural formation of those spiralling crystals suspended it in the middle of the chasm.

Another cough. How did he survive that fall? Could he even get out?

He was in luck. Stony, rectangular boxes, the size of Cecilia's bedroom, were half wedged in the walls. They were packed together, arranged like massive stone steps. If Gareth could get close enough, perhaps he could climb out of here.

A jolt of pain shot through his arms and legs. Right now it felt like it would be a miracle if could still walk, let alone climb. He needed to regain his strength, check himself for injuries.

A battery of muffled bangs echoed above. Dancing, multi-coloured lights arced around the church's masonry.

Adrenaline spiked in Gareth's veins. With shaking hands he pushed himself up, staggering back until his spine met crystal. He stared up in dread.

The church cracked and warped like a loaf of stale bread. Cracks of splintering crystals echoed as the cradle started to rip itself apart. Dust and debris rained down. The explosions continued: one, two, and three. Then the church was no longer moving; it was falling.

Gareth's heart pounded like a drum. Slapping down his visor, he braced himself.

The church, now a thousand tonne projectile of rock and stone, smashed into the ground. A blast of air and smoke swept through his Tabard while the deafening roar rang in his ears. Then the cannons came.

Gareth sucked a sharp breath in. He pulled his hands away.

The chasm’s depths were replaced by foggy green fields.

No, he wasn’t in Barnet anymore. Gareth screwed his eyes shut. He hadn’t been in Barnet for over five years.

The ground underneath shook; stone and crystal cracking, parting.

His stomach swang out underneath him. Gareth turned, reaching for something, anything.

Before his eyes, pale blue crystals turned to frosty grey rocks. His hands slipped away as the ground swallowed him whole, stone teeth cracking, grinding, shredding...

He fought against the tide, lungs burning from the fouled air. Pulverised mason and dirt filled his visor, choking his mouth and nostrils. This couldn't be his end. Not here. He needed to...

Gareth rolled to a stop, flat on his back.

Pain arched up and down his body. His head pulsed in agony, the metal from his helmet still rung from a rock strike.

White smoke and thunderous explosions filled the air. English cannons cracked in the distance. The shouts of warcries and commands rang across the fields.

His head still spinning, Gareth propped himself up on an elbow and struggled to his feet. A gauntlet, soaked wet with blood, slapped against his pounding chest as he staggered forward.

Englishmen fought in the fog, exchanging blows, yells and blood. A few lights flickered, some faint, others bright. One light looked closest: a pale green line on a hill.

That was his goal. He struggled through the obscuring smoke, scrambling over the crated grounds and stone. He tried to avoid the soldiers, stay out of sight. He didn't want to kill them. That was what he kept telling himself as he drew his dagger.

Cannonballs exploded all around, spraying him with shrapnel and dirt. What flakes did hit simply sprinkled over his armour, but each were getting closer and closer. The combatants fought without care for the cannon-fire, Gareth, or even their lives, hell-bent on destroying their foe.

The pain faded into the background, weakness took its place. Gareth pushed forward, not trusting his own voice. He was almost there. He just needed to get to the top of this hill in front of him and he could find his bearings so—

The outline of a man stepped in front of the pale green light. A smooth, English voice growled, clear over the melee, "Defend yourself."

"You…" Gareth breathed, holding his dagger high. He knew that voice.

Lord Richard Neville, dead for five years, stood before him with a pale blue longsword. His translucent skin and piercing dark eyes looked more like a death mask than a face. His beautifully embossed full-plate, unmarred by time, clinked as Neville settled into a fighting stance; a near impenetrable fortress.

Rage replaced fear. Gareth screamed, unheeding of the cannons, charging up the hill. Ducking under Lord Neville's wild sword swing, Gareth drove the blade between Neville's armour, into his elbow.

Neville roared in agony, the sword clattering to the ground, while a spray of blood gushed out of the wound. A fist whipped out, connecting with a resounding thud against Gareth's visor.

His face numb, Gareth's centre of gravity flung out from underneath him as he fell backwards, rolling down the hill. His gloves stabbed into the ground, pushing himself to his feet. "You…" Gareth growled. "You did this! You did EVERYTHING, didn't you? It wasn't enough that you had to destroy my life in England; you had to destroy my life here too! So who helped you do it? Larms? Era? What do you want from me?"

A low, dark chuckle emanated from Neville's doubled-over form. His fingers wrapped around Gareth's blade and, with a wincing grunt, pulled it loose. "Still blaming me for everything, Gareth? I'm disappointed."

Fire bubbled up anew in Gareth's heart. If Neville had survived then he'd have to fix that. But first, he’d need a weapon. "You betrayed me."

Neville quirked a brow. "Is that how you feel?" He tossed the dagger at Gareth's feet. "Keep a hold on that blade; it belonged to your father, after all. He would have understood what my task required. I needed my most stalwart knight by my side. My most stalwart, bloodied, experienced knight… who instead sided with a naïve, fool of a king. Were you by my side, Gareth, it might have been different."

Gareth grit his teeth, snatching up the dagger. "My father died for you," he growled, stabbing in Neville's direction. "He died for England! For a united England! Then you betrayed that and restarted the war! You may have knighted me, but I wasn't going to follow you into slaughtering my uncle and my comrades!"

Neville sighed, his shoulders slumping. "You're right; your father did die for peace. However, the England he died for wasn't the same anymore. The king we followed wasn't the man that I thought he was, so I went about installing a new king, a worthy king. I changed my allegiance, but I never changed my love for England."

Gareth sneered underneath his visor. He approached, kicking Neville's fallen blade away. "'Whatever makes you sleep at night."

"That's my reason for betraying England." Neville looked up. "So, what's yours?"

A pit formed in Gareth's stomach. "W-what?"

"…It was her, wasn't it?"

"I… sh-she's my wife. I must follow—"

"No, Fletcher, he's not talking about Equestria." A harsh, Welsh voice came from behind. A humanoid outline slowly filled out into a bearded giant of a Welshman, staring down at him with jolly blue eyes. His leather armour squeaked as he stepped forward. "You left years ago."

A tide of conflicting feelings rushed through Gareth's veins. It was Jobasha. Sir Jobasha, living, breathing… standing. His second in command, his dearest friend. He died in the same battle Neville did. When he died… Gareth swore it all off and became a hunter. "H-how?"

Jobasha expressions turned sad. "Gareth, when I died, when our squad died, you ran. Even after you collapsed from exhaustion, you never stopped running. You ran off the battlefield and into a hunter's life, deathly afraid. Not of death, not even of cannons, but of what's on your hands. Look down."

He didn't want to, but Gareth's eyes moved on their own.

His hands were soaked in blood; dripping in them, leaking out the seams. "My blood, your team's blood. You remember each time you hear a cannon or a thunder crack. You remember your failures as a commander; how you were the only one among us to survive the battle of Barnet. But Cecilia, she makes you forget. She makes you forget what you are. That's why you love her."

A sob caught in Gareth's chest. He started wiping his hands on his chest, his thighs, anywhere. It wasn't coming off.

"It won't come off," Nevile said. "Human blood soils the soul, I should know."

Despair clutched his heart; Gareth slumped to his knees. "H-how… how do I make it stop?"

"You can't." "You can." Nevile and Jobasha answered at the same time. They shared an angry glare.

Gareth looked up, his heart pounding in his chest.

"That's your blood, Jobasha," Nevile angrily stated. "When he took you right into the lines of those cannons, he spelled your doom. Luck alone lets him stand here today. That blood will never wash away, ever."

Gareth mindlessly rubbed his bloody fingertips. It was hopeless.

Jobasha nodded. "Aye, a fitting punishment, one that he'll always remember. But," Jobasha turned to Gareth, "You can choose. You can make them bloodier; to keep killing, knowing that they're never get any cleaner. Or you can choose to follow your promise."

Hope soared in Gareth's heart. Promise? "Wha- what promise?"

The smoke lifted. Jobasha's smile grew like a tree, from a seed to a magnificent oak. Slowly, his figure vanished into nothingness; only an echoing sound of his voice lingered, saying, "You'll remember."

Gareth whipped around, holding his dagger high.

Neville stared as his armour melted into dull grey rock. His pale face became angular, shifting to stone. His sword twisted into a long shard of blue crystal. Gareth had been 'fighting' a pillar of rock, only vaguely shaped like a man. All around, the smoke cleared to reveal similar shapes of stone and rubble littering the chasm floor. Only the flicking sources of magical lights remained, including the the pale green line that Neville had so jealously guarded.

Gareth looked down.

The blood on his hands was gone.

A dream or an illusion? Did they raise themselves from the dead just to give him closure? Gareth clenched his dagger's hilt, turning and thudding up the hill.

Green grass turned to grey dust before his eyes. Barnet’s rocks and trees melted away to crystals, revealing the truth around him. That pale green line turned out to be a sword, bedded into a stone in the ground. It was unclear where it came from, perhaps it fell from somewhere in the church?

The church… it hurt seeing this. Larms destroyed it, somehow, but for what? The destruction was senseless. Gareth wasn't stupid, he could understand killing someone, that made sense (however brutal). A person could threaten you, or get in the way, they could hurt you, but destroying a building like this? It was pathetic.

Flaps of wings echoed overhead. Pegasi, using what remained of the entrance to the church as a launch pad, leapt off the side and glided down. They flew in wide, searching spirals. Their heads turning this way and that, peering into the settling haze.

Traitors? Maybe. There's no chance that loyal guardsponies would have been dispatched to look for him. He'd best play it safe and just get out of sight. For now, he'd better make a plan. Now, what did he have around him?

The untarnished pale green sword lay just beyond, somehow surviving the carnage and debris. The area around it was clean, clear of damage. Magical, it had to be.

Very Arthurian; Gareth approved. Unclipping his helmet, he reached inside and lifted off the whitewood headguard. He walked over to 'Neville's' remains and slipped it onto the topmost portion. He had his bait, now for the sword.

The glow of the magical blade was inviting, beckoning him forward. It looked quite serviceable.

Whatever magic had protected it didn't bother Gareth as he grasped the hilt. A quick tug and the weapon was free.

The sword was robust and agile; a keening sound filled the air with each swing. Just as sharp as the day it was forged… and just as lethal.

This… felt wrong. Years ago, he would have been ecstatic at finding such a weapon, but now… the thought of killing these traitors, even in self-defence… it didn't seem right.

Taking a half step forward, a long shard of crystal clicked at Gareth's feet. The crystalline club belonged to the false Neville, half-buried in the stone, and jarred free by a stab from Gareth's dagger.

Planting the sword, Gareth picked the crude club off the ground. He felt the smooth crystal sides settle into his sighing leather gloves. It was no sword, nor spear or bow, but it would be enough. What's more, it wasn't likely to kill in a single blow.

Shouts accompanied flapping wings. A team of unicorns rallied around the crumbling remains of the front of the church, high above. They peered down into the abyss while their pegasi spotters descended. All the while, the stained glass mirror of Cecilia and the brown griffin silently glowed behind them.

That was his target. Upwards was the Mirror-portal, back to where Larms was, where Cecilia was. He would keep his promise. He turned back, glancing between the sword and 'Neville', "Well, there's no reason to waste a perfectly good sword..."

"Celestia intends to turn us into slaves!" The nobility's faces, voices, words and genders varied, but the sentiment was the same. Celestia was only a stone's throw away from a riot.

Each cry stabbed into her heart. She stood, surveying them with an anguished expression. "Ponies of Canterlot, please, I am Equestria's elected ruler, not a tyrant! I am NOT your monarch; Equestria's king established me as regent hundreds of years ago. It is within your right to strip me of my station if you elect to do so—"

"HA! Like you would allow it!" An elderly unicorn crowed. Yet, the murmurings in the room quietened.

Hope swelled in Celestia's chest. "I would relinquish it. I founded my rulership upon law, and nopony is above the law." She gave him a heart-felt look. "I know that you have reason to distrust me, I do not deny that, but know that you are not without power. If Equestria truly wishes to re-establish the old bloodline, then I will step aside."

The Colonel gave her a questioning expression but said nothing. Yet, the nobility quietened considerably, looking amongst themselves. A scattered few voices bombastically yelled 'no confidence', but no matter how loudly they yelled, it did not seem to sway their fellows. Most were beginning to regard Celestia with a genuinely torn expression.

Something was wrong. Celestia looked deeply into their eyes. Moments before they looked ready to tear her apart, but now… no. No, this was planned, this was prepared. Somepony had coerced them. But who could have so much power as to—

A throne room doors exploded open, Larms stood in the middle, flanked by two Uni-Guards. He tilted up his black hat, regarding her with a cruel smirk. "No. Confidence."

She narrowed her eyes. Of course.

"N-no confidence." Almost immediately, the rest of the nobility began follow suit, genuine fear in their eyes. The words became a chant; the vote was nearly unanimous. They parted as Larms walked towards the throne. He stopped half way, right in the middle of the crowd.

Celestia suppressed the urge arrest him herself. How DARE he hurt her ponies like this? She spread her wings wide, and glaring down at Larms. "I know what you have done, Mr. Larms. I assure you, the moment I am done here, you will be going to Tartarus for a very, very long time."

Larms chuckled fearlessly. "Oh, if you had all of your memories, you wouldn't be saying that. I am nothing but Princess Celestia's most devout servant. After all, she was the one who helped me get to where I am." A series of shocked gasps rolled around the room, even the Colonel gave Celestia a baffled expression. "And I can prove it, well, I can prove it NOW that is. Translating Princess Celestia's secret diary was a trial 'n a half. Not that it matters now; the vote is unanimous, you are no longer our regent. And, since Era is in a coma, leadership now falls to me. So… would you kindly get out of my seat?"

The urge to reduce Larms to a cinder spread to her horn. She consciously pulled the magic back. Of course, it was too perfect. How could she be stupid as to not to see it coming?

"Not so fast mud-digger!" The Colonel shouted. "You've got no more status than I do, what's more, I vote in confidence of the Princess! Don't think that I'm so blind as to not see that you've threatened Canterlot's nobility!"

"Oh, yes," Larms turned with a mocking grin. "We're all well aware that you tried to pervert justice by aiding and abetting a pretender to the throne. Don't you worry, though! We'll be finding a new Cloudsdale representative—" he clacked his forehooves together. "—Very soon."

Celestia glanced up just in time to see the stained glass windows explode inwards.

Pega-guards swarmed in through the shattered openings. Fore-hooves first, they dove at Celestia in a brutal charge.

Instinct kicked in, golden light thrust out of Celestia's horn, expanding into a perfect, golden shield.

The first few hit the shield full-force, spiralling off into the ceiling or walls, the rest halted just in time. After a few circling laps looking for an opening, they flew up to the rafters. Turning as one, shadowy blue eyes glared down.

A horrified gasp fell from Celestia's lips. No. The pegasi weren't loyal, they were just biding their time. Nowhere was safe.

"Cowards… YOU GELDED COWARDS!" The Colonel screamed, his cheeks taking on a blue pallor. "You are Celestia's guards, the ELITE! We pegasi, all of us, we stood for something, now you're no better than the rest of these traitorous filth! I swear to harmony, I'll SNAP YOUR FUCKING NECKS!"

A painful as this was for her, Celestia placed a calming hoof on his shoulder. "Colonel, please."

"You always this graceful in defeat, Dart?" Larms sneered. "CANTERLOT'S guards understood the gravity of their mission when they read the translations of Celestia's diary. You know, the secret diary that she wrote in a foreign tongue? The one Lord Era translated? Hmm, interesting that he underwent such a tragedy, isn't it? Who knows if he'll ever be able to recover from what Celestia did to him?"

Celestia's ears perked up in alarm. "I… what?"

Larms gave her a look of mocking sympathy. "Oh no, of course you didn't hurt him. You just annihilated the cart that he was kidnapped on. By the by, since we're being open and honest here, I'm the one who did the kidnapping. I had to make a point, that you couldn't control Equestria anymore, and I was right. If you really were in control, it wouldn't have happened at all! Unfortunately, even when it did happen, you just couldn't take the hint that you, or your murderous little toy weren't wanted here. Then again, Era surprisingly understood when I explained the plan to him, especially when you were so… hostile to him. Tell me, did it feel good taking your frustrations out on him?"

Celestia trembled in horror. The only witness to Celestia's rescue was Gareth. Wait… "Where's Grey Spear?" She breathed. "Colonel, have you had any reports on Grey Spear?"

The Colonel gaped for a moment. He slowly shook his head. "I'm sorry Ma'am, you gave us no orders to look for him."

Her heart slammed in her chest. Larms had her diary, and if Gareth and the forest rat went looking for it...

Larms and the rest of the Throne room fell to silence. He took off his hat, revealing a bloodied bandage underneath. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry Celestia—"

No.

"— He tried to kill me in my own home, looking for your diary, which I had been keeping safe—"

Nononono.

"— My guards defended me… and Grey Spear fought to the bitter, bloody end—"

YOU'RE LYING! A moment later, Celestia realised that she had just screamed it aloud. The throne room blurred; breathing became harder. "H-he wouldn't have done that; he's not a murderer! He wouldn't die like that!"

"He died murmuring your name." Larms sighed, donning his hat once more. For a moment, his expression almost looked genuine. "What a tragic creature. Then again, that is your way, isn't it?" He looked to the assembly. "She inspires loyalty, which makes her doubly dangerous as an Alicorn—"

Crushing despair drowned his words out. Celestia stared down at the ground. I-it couldn't have been true. Gareth was… he couldn't… no. He couldn't be dead. She couldn't have sent him to… die.

"—And it is because of that," Larms continued, "she will always be a threat to a free Equestria. She can come back anytime she wants, and simply seize power. Seeing as there is no known method of taking an Alicorn's power away, we'll just have to make due with another: finishing what Princess Celestia herself started." He pulled a whisky flask from his vest, decorated with a skull stopper. "When she first met me, I was just a simple… entrepreneur. She needed something to help her forget. Yet, she also needed somepony to run a country who wasn't afraid to break the mould. I fit the bill perfectly. Unfortunately, my product didn't work completely. I intend to change that." Larms lifted a forehoof. "Everypony, break that shield."

Celestia forced herself to look up, refusing to wipe the tears away.

The horn of every unicorn in the room lit up like stars, and then a rainbow tide of magical energy smashed against the golden shield. The combined attack ripped up stone, ignited carpet and liquefied metal. All the while, the Colonel helplessly stared on next to her.

She felt she had been plunged into lava. It took her every ounce of concentration just to keep the shield up, let alone teleport away.

Larms approached, pulling the stopper out with his teeth. "This isn't an execution," he growled. "Something went wrong the first time you drank this. You came to me to take the pain away, and by Harmony, that’s exactly what I'll do. Then you can go back to your precious humans, just as you always wanted. Now 'Cecilia', drop the shield and open wide!"

Chapter 15: Ruins & destruction

With broken windows, smashed-in doors, and a roof that was still smoking, the Apple family mansion had seen better days: specifically, yesterday. In the early hours of this morning, Canterlot’s Royal Guards had assaulted it without mercy. An assault that was still proceeding judging by the shouts and spell blasts still echoing inside.

Styre trotted out into the cratered remains of the front yard. He knew that he should have felt something… anything, to see this place so thoroughly destroyed. Then again, the 'polite' members of the Apples never did invite his branch of the family over for a visit. It didn't matter in the end. His father had perverted everything good it could have possibly have stood for, and now it fell to Styre to incinerate what was left. Thanks Dad.

A row of prisoners lined up in the yard, next to the rose bushes. A trio of guardsponies systematically stripped them down of their weapons and armour. The removals were far from gentle. One prisoner’s struggles sent him stumbling into a bramble of rose thorns.

Styre winced at the pained shrieks. How had it all come to this? Larms always did have a way with words, but how did he manage to fool so many guards, so quickly? They weren't stupid, or openly traitorous, these were good mares and stallions for the most part. So why? How?

"Sargent Styre!" A shout came from Styre's side. Monochrome Sprint landed on the ground next to him. "Sargent, we can't find Larms anywhere. We think he's fled the Mansion grounds through some secret tunnel."

Of course he did. Styre growled, kneading his forehead. "Did you find the Prince-Consort?"

Monochrome shook her head. "No, but one of the Uni-detectives found signs of a struggle up in Larm's study. If your hunch was right, then that's how Grey Spear broke in."

"It wasn't a hunch Monochrome. I saw him jumping across rooftops when I was out on patrol."

"Right, right, then you came back from patrol and found that letter in your locker from your dad, right?"

Worms crawled in Styre's guts. That letter. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block the words out.

Son, you're wasting yourself on this. You're built for bigger things!

He didn't need more evidence to prove that his father was nuts, but that letter clinched it. "Yes… and then I found the letter from representative Larms back at the barracks."

Mononchrome bobbed her head. "Right, right, so… what next, fearless leader?" The heads of the other Royal Guards turned an ear, awaiting orders.

Styre frowned. "I'm only in charge until we find Prince-Consort Gar-eth or Colonel Purple Dart."

"Right, right, but until then…?" Monochrome waved her hoof leadingly.

"Until then…"

I can't be the leader that Equestria needs. My heart is too cold. But… maybe I know somepony who can.

Styre took a steadying breath. "Monochrome, there's no telling what Larms is planning, that puts us on the defensive for now. Take all the Pega-guards you can and send them out to the Guards keeping the peace in the streets. We need to re-secure the castle."

"Yes, sir!" Monochrome's salute was only half-sarcastic. She turned, beating her wings once and taking off into the dark sky.

Styre sighed. Hopefully they'd all make it through the night.

A high-pitched squeak came from the front of the mansion. A rat stood in the middle of the half-shattered, smoking doorway. It waved its foreclaws at one of the nearby guards, hopping up and down, trying to get somepony's attention.

Wait a minute, Styre recognised that posture. That was one of Butter Pie’s janitors! Styre trotted forward a few steps, beckoning him over.

The moment he caught sight of Styre the janitor leapt off the doorway. He rushed towards Styre, tiny claws skittering on stone. Coming to a screeching halt, he stood, looking up with wide, terrified eyes.

Styre lowered himself down, offering a reassuring forehoof. "Why are you here?"

A litany of squeaks and explanations followed. Most was too hard to understand.

Listening to animals gave Styre a headache. Styre groaned, rubbing his forehead. Butter Pie was so much better at this. "Okay, something about a mirror, a portal, a church and a torch?"

The janitor plunged his claws into his mouth, gnawing on them in frustration. He grabbed Styre's forehoof with both claws and tried to pull him towards the mansion, hurriedly flicking his nose towards the doorway. The squeaks started to take on a desperate tone. "The Prince…"

Wait, Styre understood that one. "What was that about the Prince-Consort?"

"Heh heh heh." One of the prisoners, a silver earth-pony, let out a mirthless chuckle.

Styre turned, narrowing his eyes. He recognised the angular scar on the stallion’s bald head, "Mind telling me what’s so funny, Snowy Glade?"

"Isn’t it obvious?" Snowy sneered. "One refuse-eating beast caring for another. It brings a tear to the eye."

"Iron Hoof?" Styre glanced to the Royal Guard currently stripping Snowy of his gear. "Remind him who is responsible for that refuse-eating beast."

Iron Hoof grabbed Snowy by the neck and drove a hoof into Snowy's gut.

The wet thud reached Styre's ears, but he refused to react, stepping forward.

Snowy collapsed to the ground, coughing, spluttering. "Bastard… you'll get the same," he hissed

"Since you know what he's saying," Styre said. "I'm sure that you understand what he's talking about, too. Where is Gar-eth?"

"Go hang yourself," Snowy spat.

Styre glanced to the Snowy's left. "Iron Hoof?"

Snowy threw his hooves over his gut. "F-fine! You want to know where your 'Prince-Consort' is? He's rotting in a shallow grave in the Crystal Caverns! Larms tried to get him to see reason, but Grey Spear just tried to stab him to death! Then, after Larms barely escaped, a group of us didn't even have the stomach to do the right thing and put him down! Don’t you get it? We're not the monsters here, Grey Spear is!"

"The Crystal Caverns?" Styre glanced down at the rat, who was still tugging at his forehoof. "This janitor said something about a Mirror portal, know anything about that?"

Snowy snorted. "Yeah, I know that you'll never get there in time. The way is closed."

The last of Styre's patience evaporated. "Iron Hoof!"

Snowy yelped, curling into a ball. "N-no! Please, I-I swear, I don't know how to open it!"

"We'll find out how much you know.” Styre growled, working a kink out of his neck and clapping his forehooves together. “Iron Hoof, hold him still. As for you, Snowy, we’re going to have a nice, long talk. For instance, where is the Mir—"

A deafening thunderclap roared in the distance. Everypony in the yard stopped and turned towards Canterlot castle, where a rainbow of colours, magic and light illuminated the night horizon.

A sour feeling crawled into his gut. That came from the Throne room. "The Princess…"

Styre, I learnt a valuable lesson when I was a foal; you cannot rely on one pony to give you everything. You need to be able to get it yourself.

Styre grit his teeth. He gently brushed off the janitor and handed him over to Iron Hoof.

"Sir?" Iron Hoof grunted.

"Take a few Guardsponies and stay here with the prisoners. Try to find Gar-eth if you can, but…" Styre shook his head. He turned to the rest of the Royal Guard, waving a forehoof above his head. "Everypony else rally on me. We're marching on Canterlot castle!"

Stay hidden, stay low. Stay hidden, stay low. Gareth chanted in his mind, keeping his back pressed up against one of broken church's walls. He'd ran from one side of the chasm to the other, fleeing far away from where 'Neville' patiently awaited the pegasi’s approach. He wearily peeked around the side.

The smoke had fully cleared, drawing the veil on the utter desolation.

It was… astonishing. He was no architect, that church had to be unusually sturdy in its construction. He glance between the fallen remains before him and the remains still teetering above.

Although the church’s roof had collapsed, one of the outer walls and almost half the church’s flooring hadn’t fallen into the chasm at all. Even one of the three walls that fell remained upright. The others kept a firm grip on their flooring, merely tilting over at right angles. Unfortunately for those stone 'boxes' at the sides of the crystal chasm, they weren't so sturdy. They had cracked open like eggs, spilling out artefacts and other decaying objects. Almost all of the glowing lights littering the field had turned out to be one from one of those 'boxes'.

It didn’t seem like anything else was going to fall, though. Good enough for him. Gareth moved along the wall, keeping a look out. Effectively utilising your surroundings was a crucial element to battle. Perhaps if he could get closer to one of those spilled-out artefacts, he'd find something of use.

A naggingly familiar, musky smell suddenly filled the air. Just a few yards away was a shattered casket, obviously fallen from a great height. A withered claw hung loosely out a crack in the side.

Gareth grimaced. He was right the first time. This place was not a place of worship; it was a place of mourning. A mausoleum. A tomb for the dead.

A chink of metal and hooves carried over the ruins. Battered golden and silver armour gleamed in the dark. Earth ponies began to join the pegasi as they scoured the ruins. A glitter of light came from far above, unicorns keeping a careful watch.

A jolt of adrenaline banished the smell. Gareth crouched low, watching.

The bulk of the forces moved to blockade the lowest stone block, barring easy access to the 'staircase'. There was a sudden shout; one of them had spotted the 'Neville'. The pegasus yelled at the inanimate debris, slamming a warning hoof into the ground.

Hilarious. Gareth smirked. 'Neville' wasn't the listening type, and was unlikely to 'drop' the glowing sword resting up against his side. Meanwhile, Gareth reached for a loop in his belt, slowly pulling out the crystal mace. He didn't want to have to use this, but if they turned out to be hostile, he wouldn’t have a choice. Now, let’s see how many take the bait.

Before long, the other ponies in the ruins began to turn towards the commotion.

That was his chance. He quickly glanced about, looking for a way up.

The guardsponies were professionals indeed. Stony-eyed guards kept watch over any easy access to the 'staircase'. Yet, none of them were guarding the stained glass windows in the fallen church's walls. The glowing faces and vignettes looked untarnished, still fully intact.

Maybe they still worked, too. Gareth glanced down at his glove. When he put his hand on that first window it went straight through, like a Mirror portal. It was just a guess, but the magic from those windows may have been what kept the walls so intact. He looked up.

Just one of the stained glass windows was still embedded in the unfallen church wall. The glass was hard to see from this distance and angle, but it seemed to depict a dog-like creature standing next to Cecilia.

Finding that dog-man's tomb would be Gareth’s way out. There'd be some climbing to do, of course. What’s more, he’d need to find a tomb that was close enough to the dog-man's, climb out of that one and into the dog-man's tomb. Still, any plan is better than no plan. And it’s only if these ponies turn out to be traitors, and that wasn’t certain, right?

Sharp whines of energy echoed through the chasm.

Gareth frowned, lifting his head. What on earth was--

A barrage of violent explosions ripped through the air.

Sound pounded into Gareth’s head, pierced his ear drums. He groaned, lifting a hand to his throbbing skull. He sucked in a breath, turning towards where the noise came from.

'Neville'... was now nothing more than a smoking crater. The pale green blade was gone, just like the rest of the rubble it had laid on. Meanwhile Gareth's glittering headguard lay half-buried in the dirt, charred and cracked in two.

His headguard… Celestia’s gift… gone. He remembered her giving that to him. A brush of her wings. A smile, a simple picnic. Now it was gone. They… they destroyed it. A flare lit up in his guts. Traitors. Of course, they were traitors.

Pega-guards and Earth-guards cautiously approached, picking through the remains. Meanwhile, Uni-guards chortled overhead, horns smoking and glowing with energy. All of them were watching the newly formed crater.

Blood pumping in Gareth’s ears, his fist clenced around the club. It was tempting to return the favour, but this was Gareth’s best chance, while they were distracted. He steadied himself, shifting around the side. Armour twisted and creaked as he jogged across the ruins.

His back slapped up against the nearest piece of cover, another wall. At a glance, he couldn’t see any of the guards.

His heart hammered in his chest. He ignored it, surveying the stained glass windows. One of them had to bring him closer to the dog-man’s tomb. Was there a timeline, or a narrative? The dog-man’s was near the entrance... perhaps it was one of the older ones?

Yet, looking through the windows, there didn’t seem to be any link. None of the husbands seemed to have any rhythm or technological improvement that he could follow. They almost seemed to be placed randomly.

Wait what if it wasn’t arranged in time, but in species? Or...

Clopping hooves echoed off the walls nearby.

A shiver raced up Gareth's spine. He crouched lower, praying that his armour hadn’t given him away. He hadn't thought this plan through at all. It was only a matter of time before they spotted him. No, he needed to pull back, think it over and--

A squawk of alarm filled the air. Gareth turned to see an Earth-guard transfixed in shock. Just behind him was a window depicting Cecilia and a laughing griffin in a jester's hat.

So much for planning. Letting out a low growl, Gareth rushing forward, bringing up his club in an diagonal swing.

A dull crack resounded off the Guard's face place. He slumped underneath, groaning.

The hammering in his chest increased, standing over the body with a club in his trembling hands. No, no he- surely he was still alive, right? Gareth crouched, pressing a hand on the stallion’s chest.

Rhythmic breathing pushed his furred chest in and out.

Gareth breathed out with him. A weight lifted off Gareth’s shoulders. He’ll be fine.

That’s when another group of guards rounded the corner.

Shit. He froze, staying perfectly still. Please don’t see me, please don’t see me, please don’t see--

They glanced between him and their friend, then bellowed out an alarm.

Gareth flinched at the bray, jolting to his feet. He back off as they approached, holding the club out. There was no way he could win this. He turned and sprinted towards the stained glass window. ONE of these has to get him closer!

Bright lights flashed before his eyes, receding into a dusty into an almost equally colourful tomb. It was fit to bursting as if decorated by a court jester. Bright colours, bells and other bizarre contraptions filled every empty space, even the walls. Well, half-filled, the part that was still intact that is. The rest spilled into the chasm's maw with the other half of the tomb.

Roars of alarm echoed up from the chasm. 'Grey Spear', 'Ucigas', and other less pleasant monikers accompanied the cries.

Dizziness rolled into Gareth's head and stomach. They were looking for him. Once they found him, they’d alert the unicorn and then…

English cannons thundered in Gareth’s ears.

No! Gareth shook his head. He had to focus! This place was nearly demolished, there had to be a way out!

And there was. One of the other tombs was close, within jumping distance in fact. A large hole in the side hinted at gold and marble embossed interiors.

Gareth sighed in relief. Finally, some good news. With some planning and proper run up he should be able to make it. Well, provided none of the pegasi got lucky and spotted him.

A pair of Uni-guard flew up over the tomb’s damaged floors. They stared at him for a second, before screaming out, "Ucigas!"

"Oh, just fuck right off!"

One of the yelling pegasi jabbed a forehoof at Gareth while the other yelled up to the Uni-guards above. They levelled their still-smoking horns, quickly accompanied by another sharp whine of energy.

The sound felt like burning flesh and tearing metal. English cannons. Gareth closed his eyes, pressing his club back into his belt’s loop, breathing deep. Lightning rushed from his heart to his bloody fingertips, steadying them, charging them. He opened his eyes, and jumped.

Leather and metal crashed as Gareth landed boot-first onto the crypt’s floor. The tomb looked as nice as from the outside: elaborate, beautiful.

Ignoring the pain lancing up his leg, Gareth staggered forward, away from the gaping hole behind him. A momentary smirk came to Gareth's lips. At least he'd found a nice place to be blown to bits.

Then the whine of energy came to a crescendo. Explosions ripped into the tomb around him, shredding stone, silk and gold. Rocks and sound slammed into his body.

Something punched his face. Everything went black.

When Gareth opened his eyes, he was on the floor. His helmet’s visor was bent on the right side. Everything was ringing.

A nauseous pressure pushed up the underside of his chin. Gareth choked the rising bile back down, crawling forward. What hit him? With a groan, he felt along his distorted visor.
What ever it was, it hit him hard enough to warp metal. There were still pieces of pulverised rock flaking off.

He had to get out of here. Trembling hands pushed Gareth back to his feet. He didn’t dare look back. Such destruction… all just to kill him.

The glass window stood before him, depicting Cecilia next to a well-dressed unicorn. They looked happy.

No time to think. Gareth lurched through.

When he exited the portal the world turned diagonal.

Breath forced from Gareth’s lungs as he flopped to one knee. He immediately struggled back up.

The same Traitor-guards from before were standing on either side of the Jester’s window. Each glanced at it, watching as the magic slowly lost its lustre.

The ringing in Gareth’s ears started to subside, replaced by a clarity. They were… they were destroying everything. No, they WOULD destroy everything. As cowardly as it was, running was probably the best way to get them to stop.

One of the Traitor-guards finally noticed him. He spluttered at Gareth to halt.

Gareth wasn’t listening. He spotted the next closest window and staggered towards it.

A pegasus leapt in front of the portal, wings wide. A pair of Earth-guards rushed Gareth's side, heads lowering.

Grim determination cleared his mind. He pulled the club from his belt loop, sucked in a breath, then turned his stagger into a charge.

The Pega-guard rushed, trying to cut him off.

Gareth waited until the last moment, then pushed his full body into a upwards swing.

A crystalline crunching noise ensued as the club battered into the Pega-guard’s side, sending him stumbling into his fellows.

Glancing back, Gareth would have found the scene funny if he wasn’t fighting for his life. He turned, stepping through the window.

Bright colours once more burned Gareth’s sight. Lights gave way to a new tomb containing a distinctly French design to it. What's more; it looked intact.

Wait, intact? Sweat prickled Gareth's skin. If he couldn't find a way to climb out of this tomb then it was a dead end. He grit his teeth, looking over the corners. The last thing he wanted to do was to leave the way he came.

"STOP!"

Shit. Gareth turned back, lowering his club in a deceptively open stance. Sweat was turning to slime in his gloves.

The trio of Traitor-guards exited out the window and faced Gareth down, clapping their forehooves into the stone in a hostile staccato.

Though he took a half-step back, Gareth wasn’t afraid. He wasn't going to be the one to make the first move, and he wasn’t going to provoke them. This was their choice. No killing.

With a trio of battle cries, the Traitor-guards charged.

His mind clear, Gareth raised his club.

The pegasus flew straight at his face, forehooves out.

Ducking low, Gareth flicked the club up and smashing into the Pega-guard's wing.

The Pega-guard let out a yelp of panic, spiralling into the wall, cracking masonry and sliding to the floor with a dazed groan. Deep spiderwebs crawled across the wall; a few rocks broke free, revealing the chasm on the other side.

If that broke just a little more…

The two Earth-guards rushed Gareth on either side, flanking him. They let out a pair of animalistic growls, readying to send four bucking hooves into his spine.

But Gareth was ready for them. Without missing a beat, he swayed forward and turned to smash them across their snouts.

The Earth-guards yelped in agony, cringing back and holding their broken muzzles.

That’s all he needed. Gareth sprinted past, winding the club over his shoulder and bring it down into the weakened wall.

Stone and crystal fragments exploded, sprinkling off Gareth's helmet. The wall crumbled into the depths below.

Dust scraped Gareth’s lungs, extracting a cough or two. He quickly punched loose rocks aside, peering through the smoke to find something, anything he could jump to.

Through the dust was another tomb. This one looked to be the most destroyed yet, it was almost entirely emptied with only a tiny portion for him to jump on. Looking down…

Air froze in Gareth's lungs. He was near the church now, over a hundred yards up, and he didn't fancy his chances living through that drop a second time. Yet… that tomb was only a few yards away.

Staggered growling came from behind. The Earth-guards beared down on him, blood dripping from their faces.

Gareth looked down at his club only to find that it been reduced to a useless stump.

They saw it too. A predatory grin appeared on their muzzles.

Useless peice of shit! Gareth turned and scrambled up into the hole, boots tearing at the rocks which crumbled underneath him. He had only seconds before the wall fell either dropping him backwards into a tomb where a pair of ponies planned to crush his skull, or forward into a chasm that would send his knees into his ribcage.

Rocks crumbled. Ponies roared. English cannons.

Vertigo touched Gareth’s head, pushing him off centre. His feet wobbled, trying to keep him standing. He didn’t have a choice. Gareth pushed down into a crouch and jumped.

Wind whistled through his jingling chain. His outstretched hands reached for the stony outcropping.

He wasn't going to make it.

The very edge of the stone floors slapped into Gareth's hands. Immediately his body clenched down, swinging into the crystal wall.

Weightlessness tugged down at Gareth’s legs while fire burned up his arms and back. Coughing and wheezing, he dragged himself up over the side, crawling in as far as he could.

The pair of Earth-guards from the crypt behind him climbed into the hole that Gareth had just leapt out of. They looked around, measuring the jump. They quickly realised that they didn't have a hope of making it. Within moments, they began to helplessly scream and shout expletives.

Still trying to catch his breath, Gareth found himself smiling. Ignoring them, he stood and looked around.

Besides a rod-mounted tapestry and a 'floor' reduced to a tiny outcropping, Gareth was right the first time, there really was nothing here. Whatever 'theme' this tomb had, was now scattered across the chasm's floors.

Well, he'd best take a look at the glass window portal, perhaps—

Set into the wall was the picture of the dog-man and Cecilia.

A relieved smiled forced its way onto Gareth's lips. Unbelievable.

Unlike the others, the dog-man and Cecilia weren't facing each other, they faced off against an army of black shapes and figures. The dog-man's coat was… golden, holding a quarterstaff in his hands. Meanwhile, Cecilia looked far different. Her mane was a solid pink with no wings on her back. Regardless, both of them looked ready to fight to the death.

Wait, stop. Gareth’s hand froze just over the window. There was still those bombarding Uni-guards. Stepping through the window only to be reduced to a fine grey smear would just be embarrassing at this point. Still, he wasn't going to get past them bare handed, if only he had a spear or a staff to keep them at bay.

A metallic tapping came from behind. The tapestry flowed in the wind, the metal rod holding it up occasionally bounced off the wall.

Perfect. Gareth reached up, ripping the tapestry down and tearing the fabric away. A few experimental twirls revealed that the rod was light and hollow, perhaps made of copper. It wasn’t going to last long, nor was it particularly balanced, but it was better than wailing on ponies with his bare hands.

The Earth-guards began to yell louder, angrily pointing at him. Those shouts were punctuated by a high-pitched whine…

Oh crap! Gareth tucked the rod under one arm, clenched his eyes closed and hopped through the stained glass window.

Boots met stone. Seconds later, flakes of stone and metal showered over his back.

Gareth opened his eyes, quickly bringing the rod to bear.

A dozen Uni-guards stood over the edge of the broken church. They peered over the sides, squinting to the depths as their smoking horns cooled down from a cherry-red. Instead of being blasted into oblivion, none of them so much as glanced over in Gareth's direction.

Freezing still, Gareth watched the guards. He glanced to the entrance.

The front door to the church was right there, unguarded, just a dozen yards away.

Deciding not to question his stroke of luck, Gareth slowly, slowly, inched over to the door. Each step letting out a chink of chain and a clink of metal, but the Uni-guards paid it no mind. The moment he got to the door, he glanced outside.

The way to the Mirror portal was clear. No-one was guarding it.

Did they think that he was one of their compatriots? Almost casually, Gareth stepped outside, grabbed the door, and started to pull it closed.

He barely had to try, after the initial tug the door closed on its own. Even after the door closed with a low, stony grinding noise, there was no noise or commotion on the other side. They hadn't even noticed that Gareth slipped past.

Blinking, nonplussed, Gareth turned and made his way over to the portal. It was not a good idea to linger. While the closed church door would at least slow down the Uni-guards and Earth-guards, there was still plenty of room for the Pega-guards to fly over the church's half-destroyed walls.

A low groan of pain came from the remains of the camp.

Gareth turned, pulling the rod up into a combat stance.

Inside were a dozen bound and gagged ponies. They laid unconscious on the dusty floor, beaten, bloodied and bruised. Whatever happened here, they clearly put up a fight. A pile of discarded armour lay just a few yards away from them.

Frowning, Gareth took a step closer to the Mirror portal. They could have been Loyalists… or they could be Traitors who quarrelled with their new masters. Either way, he didn't have time to check to make sure. The Mirror portal was waiting.

"H-hey!" A shout came from the side of the camp. A solitary Uni-guard stood, staring at Gareth with wide eyes.

Gareth didn't think: he charged, screaming a battle cry.

The Uni-guard face twisted into shock, backpedalling. His horn glowed yellow, charging up a spell and blasting it in Gareth's direction.

Without breaking stride, Gareth jumped left, letting the beam sail wide. Reversing his grip, he brought the rod around in a full-body swing.

The sound of crunching metal filled the camp as the Uni-guard's head whipped back. He slumped to the ground, groaning as his limbs writhed uselessly in the air.

Gareth cautiously approached, watching the Uni-guard's bloodied nose and mouth.

A puff of hair shifted the dust the Uni-guard lay in.

Still alive. Gareth breathed a relieved sigh. He looked down at the tapestry rod.

… Which had unfortunately bent in half from the blow.

With a disgusted growl, Gareth discarded it and marched back to the portal.

The Mirror portal wasn't glowing anymore.

A pit opened in Gareth's stomach. He rushed forward, thrusting his hand through.

Nothing. No tingling, no light. Nothing. The portal was closed.

Gareth glanced back. The Uni-guard wasn't aiming at him.

Yells echoed from the church behind him. The Uni-guards inside began to bang on the closed door.

Gareth sunk to his knees, staring at the ground in a daze. No. No no no, this couldn't be it!

The banging got louder. Flapping wings rose up from the chasm.

NO! He thrust his hands in the base of the Mirror portal, brushing away dust, trying to find something. A rune, a-a message, Equestrian words, something, ANYTHING!

The dust revealed only a solid metal frame.

Gareth went numb. This couldn’t be it.

A high-pitched whine echoed over the walls.

This couldn’t be how it ends...

Chapter 16: The Sun & the Rose

Ragged breath dragged through Gareth's lungs. He kneeled, staring transfixed at the closed portal. There was no way out.

Explosions crashed and stone shattered from behind. The church's walls began to crumble beneath the sustained assault of magical energy. Uni-guards shouted orders, preparing for yet another barrage.

Gareth felt every blast, every shockwave. He glanced over to the fallen form of the Uni-guard that had sealed him out. If he had just taken the sword then he could have cleaved the Uni-guard without a second thought. No, instead he had to fumble with an improvised mercy weapon, now snapped in half, that couldn't defend him from the tide awaiting to come.

Another whine of energy came from over the wall.

He squeezed his eyes shut.

Energy thunder clapped, tearing into the wall. Crackling stone and sizzling smoke filled the air. Shards of rock clattered off his armour.

Dread filled Gareth's chest. He turned back, he would stare his executioners in the eye.

Yet, through the smoke, the church's wall still stood.

What? Gareth's mind twisted in confusion. He rose to his feet, peering through the debris.

Although there were large pieces of the wall missing, it remained mostly intact. Rumbling and chittering pieces of brickwork began to move under their own power, as if alive, rolling and climbing up to their old places of rest, settling back in. Flashes of golden armour and grey coats appeared for just a few seconds before the wall managed to heal over itself.

Of course. Self-healing. That's how the church had survived so long. He doubted it would take them long to start destroying the wall without blowing up themselves in the process, but maybe he'd have just enough time to find a way out of here. He turned, looking past the portal, to the crystal walls.

Although hard to make out, there were paths leading away from the plateau upon which Gareth stood. Caves leading away into the crystal caves, or winding up into the greater chasm.

He could climb his way out! Noise aside, his armour made him hard to spot by ponies. There's a good chance that they wouldn't see him at all! But… but he'd never make it back in time…

A muffled yell came from the camp. One of the tied-up Uni-guards wriggled wildly in his bindings. Bruises littered his grey coat, wild blue eyes glanced about. Ropes hog-tied his hooves while another wrapped his muzzle closed. Without the barding his cutie mark could be made out to be a sparkling blue and white light. Sparkling blue and white…

Gareth's head swam, he pressed a steadying hand up to it. That mark. Visions flashed before Gareth's eyes. Gleaming Horizon's room. Burning light, a flash of thunder and an explosion of pain. He recognised that mark.

The familiar uni-guard looked back. Surprise replaced by a hatred-filled glare.

"Flash Bang," Gareth hissed. He pointed towards the closed Mirror portal.

Flash Bang glanced up to his horn: an ornate ring wrapped around the base. His face twisted in concentration, sending out a few spluttering sparks from his horn's tip. The ring's contours glowed white-hot.

Gareth frowned. More bindings. It made sense, of course. Hand-cuffs for magic. But if he took it off, what would stop Flash Bang from turning it on him?

Electricity burnt Gareth's eyes. The sounds of iron shot rumbled in his ears.

He hissed at the phantom pain, brushing his fingertips across his dented visor. There had to be another way. He glanced back at the path through the crystal caverns. If he ran now, he'd escape before the traitors broke through. He wouldn't need to trust Flash Bang not to betray him.

Yelling and arguing Equestrian words drifted over the top of the walls. The pegasi's wings stopped flapping, their owners' voices joining the growing din.

Division. Why now? Gareth looked down at the rest of the unconscious guards. They weren't just tied up, they were beaten within an inch of their lives. What could they have done to deserve that? Perhaps if he'd had more chance to learn their bloody language, he could have asked them.

The arguing was getting louder, but now there was only one voice speaking… ordering. Flash Bang's ears folded back, his muzzle twisting in fear.

Gareth looked Flash Bang in the eye, trying to understand. Why? What was the reason for his fellows betraying him? Was he secretly loyal to Celestia? No, that couldn't be it. He wouldn't have done all those things, if that were true.

A chorus of magical humming poured over the walls.

Adrenaline shot through Gareth's veins. Time's up. He drew his dagger and pounced forward. Boots pounded through the dirt, sprinting towards Flash Bang.

Flash Bang struggled hard, letting out a panicked, muffled yell. His eyes widened at Gareth's approaching blade. The hum of energy increased in pitch.

A pang of guilt shot through Gareth's heart. Now he cared about how traitors felt? He was getting softer by the minute; best do this quickly. Gareth fell into a dive, boots first. His reached out a free hand, catching Flash Bang by the throat.

Flash Bang struggled, twisting his head to and thro. The magical energy reached its height.

Gareth pulled Flash Bang into a head lock, his free hand working off the ring. "Hold…" his dagger slipped into the ropes holding Flash Bang's hooves, "STILL!"

The sound of cracking stone ripped through the air. Two stone slabs pounded into the ground. The church's stone doors skidded past, leaving a cloud of dust, stone and dirt following in its wake.

The impact vibrated through Gareth's bones, chattering his teeth. No, focus! With a struggling yank, he tore the ring free.

A blast of blue, crackling, magic fired out from underneath Gareth's arm. The Mirror Portal sprang back to life with a golden glow, shards of glass pulling up from the ground, drifting in the void. Flash Bang sprang and rushed forward. He didn't look back.

Gareth did. He wished he hadn't.

A sea of glowing horns trotted through the cloud of dust engulfing the church's entrance. Pega-guards swept down from the top of the wall, holding their hooves out in a diving charge. Their eyes focused on him.

Gareth's heart leapt into his throat. He turned and sprinted towards the mirror.

Bolts of magic and falling hooves slammed into the ground around him. Dust and stone choked the air. Snarling Pega-guard reached out, trying to tackle them to the ground. They weren't fast enough for Flash Bang, who despite his wounds, vanished into the mirror.

Gritting his teeth, Gareth pushed forward, through the hail. He dodged low under a flying Pega-guard and jumped through.

Rainbow-lights blazed past. Traveling a thousand leagues in a second. The lights vanished. Gareth's boot hit soft ground.

Gareth whipped around, glancing back with a raised dagger.

The Mirror looked… different. The shimmering surface shone gold instead of red, and in an oval instead of rectangular. Both he and the Mirror stood on plush carpeting. Beside it lay a white, four-corner bed, an ivory armoire, a desk filled with scattered sketches and an opened balcony.

Relief flooded Gareth's chest; Cecilia's bedroom! He was back! Everything was as he remembered. Well, except for the traitorous guardspony. Was he still traitorous? He betrayed the betrayers, was that loyalty or just double traitorous?

Crowds of furious snarling echoed from inside the Mirror portal. "MOVE!" Flash Bang roared, running over to one side of the Mirror. His forehooves clapped onto one side, pushing and straining against the Mirror's bearings.

They needed to shatter it! Gareth shifted to opposite side, gripping the Mirror with both hands.

Steel moorings let out a popping, warped groan, twisting and giving way. With a final combined shout, they slammed the freed mirror to the ground. A crash of shattered glass send shards scattering across the carpeted floors.

Gareth huffed, staring at the glass.

Light faded from the shards. Cecilia's room grew silent. Flash Bang slumped to his flanks, hanging his head.

It was over. For now. Gareth let out a sigh of relief, sitting down on Cecilia's bed.

The bed sighed with him, pulling him into a cushiony hug.

Every muscle, every joint ached. Gareth's hauberk dug deeply into his shoulders, his helmet stunk of stale sweat and exertion, his shin-guards agonised his feet and his gloves… best not talk about his gloves. Gareth reached up to the straps and clips around his helmet, pulling the dented armet off.

The helmet clattered to the ground. A cool, refreshing breeze passed Gareth's face.

Gareth closed his eyes, breathing deep. It was nice here; warm, refreshing. What he wouldn't do to just take a moment to draw up a bath, change into some silks and sleep. Sleep. Right. that was a thing that he did. Why wasn't he sleeping right now? He was supposed to be doing something. Argh, this was going to bug him. Take the plague rat across town. Done that. Find the research papers. Done that too. Oh right, find his horse-wife and expunge a rebellion. Goddamn it, marriage is hard work.

A crackle of lightning filled the room.

Gareth looked up.

Energy ran up and down Flash Bang's horn. He struggled to his feet and stabbed it in Gareth's direction. Hooves crunched glass underhoof as Flash Bang backed away towards the door.

Gareth stared, numb to the inevitable betrayal. His blood warmed, but didn't boil. Given the distance, he could rush Flash Bang. Not killing the last unicorn he met had came back to bite him, after all. Gareth gave a sigh and rocked to his feet.

Flash Bang's breath picked up, his eyes flicking to the doorway behind him. He almost looked afraid. The way he was moving went right past Gareth's armoury. Both his self-bow and the dog-bow lay there, along with a bundle of wood arrows, and that pair of enchanted ones from Era's room. The Boar Spear stuck out as most prominent, standing tall and within easy reach.

It'd be trivial to pick it up and run Flash Bang through. Yeah, trivial… Gareth looked down at his gloves.

They were clean.

Another deep sigh, Gareth struggled to find the words for "Where is Princess Celestia?"

Flash Bang halted. His eyes went wide. "Th- the Throne Room."

"And Larms?"

Flash Bang lifted his horn. "H-he's there, too."

Good. Gareth walked over to the armoury, through the field of crunching glass. He reached down, picking up his quiver and attaching it to his belt.

"Stop right there!" Flash Bang's horn trained back on Gareth.

Gareth filled the quiver, grabbing the bows and checking over their strings. "Where is the Throne room?"

"You—" Flash bang stared at him, then to his weapons. "Y-you're alone."

Yeah… he was. Gareth threw a venomous glare at Flash Bang. "She is too."

Flash Bang's mouth fell open. The lightning around his horn dissipated. "Y-your face. I can see it."

Gareth didn't know what to feel. He turned around, hiding his torn expression, busying himself by gathering his bow staves into a makeshift sling.

Flash Bang took a step forward, opening his mouth to speak. "Listen, I—" A roar of magical energy drowned out his voice. Bright, rainbow lights turned the night sky into day. It poured in through the balcony, polluting the white fabrics with their own hues.

Cecilia. Gareth clenched his hands. He walked over to the balcony, pulling the sling over his shoulder and clutching the rail.

The rainbow lights in the form of arched windows beamed out from the castle's direction. Magical energy raged, centred on a single the point. Although difficult to tell from the sheer blinding spectacle, from the size of the room, it had to be the Throne room.

She's there. Gareth looked up to the conical roof of the tower. Judging from the distance and the angle, he'd need to climb to get a clear shot through one of those windows. With a huff, Gareth looked up and down the side of the tower.

The masonry was rocky enough to climb, leading right up to the roof. Climbing up over the side of the roof would be the most dangerous.

Gareth forced himself not to look down. There was every chance that if he climbed this tower… he wasn't climbing back. Not like he had a choice. Even now, he'd never make it on foot. Gareth stepped forward and reached up to the first hand hold.

Flash Bang stepped out onto the balcony, baffled. "What? You- you can't… you're tute nuben!"

He had a point. Whatever it was. Gareth licked his lips and dragged himself higher.

Wood clattered in his sling as the wind blew through. The night air turned from refreshing to freezing, chilling his sweat-soaked hair. A white moon rose high over the sky, illuminating the way.

Gareth reached up, pulling himself up and over. His chest hit the tiles, the hauberk clinking and clicking. No time for a breather. He struggled to his feet.

The Throne room lay before him, still venting raw rainbow light. Through the windows were multitudes of magical streams, all flowing in one direction, washing off a single, golden ball of light. Within it were two figures, a yellow stallion wearing a blue jacket, and a white mare twice the stallion's size.

They were killing her. Gareth pulled the dog bow from his sling, strung it and nocked a glowing arrow.

There were so many targets. So many unicorns. These arrows were explosive, but they'd never hit that many, not with just two.

A sharp pain and the taste of iron filled Gareth's mouth. He'd chewed open his own lip. A racking growl erupted from his chest as he let the bow go slack. With forty 'training' arrows and just two real ones, his only hope was to watch and wait.

Watch and wait… while the rainbow lights began to melt the very grounds upon which Cecilia stood.

The pressure stopped as one by the one, the noble's horns flicked out. Deafening blasts of sizzling, bone-crunching energy subsided. The blinding lights died away, filling the room with darkness.

Celestia head throbbed in agony, just barely catching herself from dropping the shield altogether. Burning pins of fatigue stabbed into her muscles and horn. Gasping for air, struggling just to keep her legs underneath her body.

The darkness faded to a flickering golden light, her shield was still up. On the other side, hundreds of noble ponies stared on in mute awe… and horror.

Did they realise what they had done?

A forehoof pressed against Celestia's side. The Colonel, his face stoic, awaited her command to the bitter end.

Celestia forced herself to look up. "…why?"

Larms ignored her, turning back to the crowd. "Did you see that? The Solar Tyrant is nearly defeated. One last push, and Equestria will forever rule its OWN destiny!"

She hung her head. This was what they had become.

"No." A blue, elderly stallion approached.

The pain began to peel away from Celestia's body. She struggled back to her full height. That pony… that was Radiant Star, head of house Star; Noble Era's great uncle.

Larms whipped around, fixing the stallion with a glare. The stallions' slicked back white mane and groomed blue coat provided a bizarre juxtaposition against the wrecked throne. "I've had quite enough of this, Larms. This isn't what you said would happen." He gestured in Celestia's direction. "You said that she'd fight tooth and nail, that a few of us could even die! The lives of our children and Equestria were at stake if we didn't strike together, but this… she's not evening fighting back!"

Celestia shook her head, trying to remain conscious. It was all she could do but watch and wait.

Larms heaved a sigh, frustrated, but not surprised. "Radiant Star. So disappointing. Of all those gathered here, I figured that at least YOU would have the most to lose. Allow me to remind you; Equestria still IS at stake, as are your children," Larms's voice took on icy chill. "We never know just how vulnerable the ones we love are. Isn't that right, Radiant? I've lost a wife and a son. Gone in a blizzard, just like that. Do you know why? Because I took a chance." He turned back to the throne. "A returned Celestia is a chance that we cannot afford to take."

A spark of energy welled up in Celestia's chest. It was enough. Enough to teleport away… but not with the Colonel. Running, leaving the ponies of Equestria to Larm's madness, to face the consequences of their own actions: an easy choice. A tempting choice.

A distant burst of energy echoed across the throne room.

Celestia's ears pricked up. It came from outside. She glanced over to the shattered window.

The Royal Tower and the moon loomed in the distance. Nightmare Moon's imprinted face almost seemed to glow. "You got a helper, Celestia?" Larms scowled, he looked up to the guards in the rafters. "Boys, whatever it is, take care of it. We don't have time for this."

She saw something, on top of the tower. A familiar figure. Celestia squinted, leaning forward. It looked almost like…

"Now," Larms turned back to Celestia, holding up the flask, "Where were—"

A white burst of magic tossed Larms aside like a ragdoll. His surprised shout distorted as he rolled over and over across the floor.

Celestia flinched. Her ears and eyes twisted up to the tower. "Luna…?" She breathed

The moon moved, glowing behind the figure, filling in the features. Four legs became two, glittering magic turned out to be moonlight reflecting off armour. The figure stood higher, peering down at the throne room.

An animalistic growl rumbled from Larm's throat, pushing himself to his hooves. The flask lay before him, purple liquid pouring out the crack in the side. His voice shook, anger tempered with disbelief, "Gareth…"

Gareth. Celestia looked again.

The figure tossed a long wooden object aside, pulling another from his back. Gripping the top, he pushed down and touched the bottom. Stringing a bow. A bow.

It was him. He was alive. "Gareth!" Celestia cried.

"GARETH!" A glare, maddened with fury, followed her gaze. "He's on top of the tower: KILL that son of a bitch!"

A lump rose in Gareth's throat. He grasped the bowstring between fingers. He got their attention; now what?

Wings flapped from within inside the Throne room. Pega-guards flooded out of the windows, swarming towards him. Four dozen or more.

Gareth sucked in a breath, glancing down at the training arrow. Training or not, if it hit one in the eye it'd be a mortal injury.

Down in the Throne room, Celestia looked back at him. Her head stooped, haggard wings touching the ground. Rose-pink eyes watching.

Her eyes stared through him. He promised. Gareth screwed his eyes shut. They tried to kill her. They were going to kill him. He promised.

War cries rang out over the night sky.

They were going to kill them both. "Celestia, I'm sorry." Gareth levelled the bow and pulled back the string. "Conlidis tu mihi vasa belli: you are my weapon of war."

Shriek

"Et ego conlidam in te gentes: for with you I will break in pieces the nations."

Snap!

The arrow soared through the sky, striking one of the pega-guards in the wing with a fleshy thunk. The guard let out a wail of pain, falling into a dive. Just one guard out of dozens.

Gareth reached into his quiver, drawing four arrows, one between each knuckle. He didn't need to penetrate deep, just hit the wings. "Et disperdam in te regna: and with you I will destroy kingdoms!"

The Pega-guards slammed into the roof of the tower. Tearing up tiles and brickwork. They weren't so much as looking at him.

Vibrations ran up Gareth's legs, staggering him. Pulling the bow back up, he plucked the string repeatedly, dodging around diving Pega-guards, firing off point-blank shots at half-pull.

His enemies yelled and shrieked from the pain, one by one. Not enough. They attacked wildly, ripping up stone. Hooves flashed and swiped; each one capable of knocking Gareth off his feet and into ground below.

Gareth's head swam, the tower shuddered under his feet. He ducked under a wild dive and lashed out with a kick, punting a guard over the side. At this rate they wouldn't need to hit him, they just needed to destroy what he was standing on.

The Pega-guard drew away from the tower as one. High in the air, they regrouped and formed up in a line.

Wait a minute. Gareth blinked, pulling another four arrows ready to mow them down. That looked just like a—

The Pega-guard dove into a steep charge.

"FUCK!" Gareth shrieked. He fired up into the air, just hoping to hit centre mass.

Three out of four arrows hit, leaving thirty pegasai swooping down through the top of the tower. Brick cracked and crumbled underneath Gareth's feet as the Pega-guard reappeared out the other side of the tower in a cloud of pulverised stone. The tower swayed.

Bile rose up in Gareth's throat. He bent his knees, trying to maintain his footing.

It didn't work. The tiles vanished underneath. Gareth fell tumbling back into Cecilia's room in a choking cloud. Cracking, falling rock crushed down upon him, striking his shoulders. Shingles bounced off his head, compounding an already splintering headache.

Smoky dust filled Gareth's lungs. He coughed and choked, shaking his bleeding head, glancing around him.

The remains of the roof lay scattered through the room, polluting the white, gold and ivory furnishings. The room was still recognisable; most of the tower must have fallen over the side. Flaps of wings circled above. The Pega-guard were still looking.

No time to check for damage. Gareth pulled himself back to his feet and drew another quartet of arrows. He pulled the bow high and fired another volley through the cloud.

Guards fell out of the sky, an arrow sticking out of each of their wings. They buzzed about in a blind panic, yelling, searching.

Feeding another four into his hands, Gareth backed away. He wasn't sure how much longer this cloud of dust would last before—

One of the Pega-guards let out a shriek of rage, charging straight towards him.

Adrenaline spiked Gareth's heart. He pulled his bow up and drew.

The arrow struck deeply into the guard's wing, driving straight through. He roared in agony, spiralling out of control mid-flight… right into Gareth.

Air drove itself from Gareth's lungs. The guard collided with a dull thud of flesh and snapping wood, sending them both of the ground. Gareth growled, swinging himself free and punching the guard in the face.

The Guard slumped underneath, his faceplate dented.

Pain lanced up Gareth's gauntleted hand. He grimaced; lacing another four arrows and pulling his bow back up.

Only splinters stood where the top half of his bow should be. The still attached bowstring tugged at the other end, underneath the unconscious Pega-guard.

Gareth threw the shattered self-bow down with a snarl. He staggered over to what remained of his armour and shoved aside some rocks. Please still be here.

There it was. Despite the rocks and dust, the Boar Spear remained intact.

Thought his hands trembled, Gareth grabbed his father's weapon and turned, pulling it up.

The cloud began to lift. One by one, the Pega-guard turned towards Gareth. A larger guard pointed a forehoof down at Gareth's direction, shouting orders to the others. They nodded, drifting down onto the debris-ridden floors.

A chill ran up Gareth's spine. This was it. Blood flowing down his forehead, exhausted. Out of tricks, out of strength, out of time. This was his final stand.

His father's spear groaned underneath Gareth's grip.

Just like his father.

The roof sloughed off the side of the Celestia's tower, crashing into the courtyard below. Stone, masonry and tree vanished in an expanding cloud of dust.

Cold hands clutched Celestia's heart. No. NO! "GARETH!"

"Do you see?" Larms growled at the crowd, still trembling, "She only cares for her fooking Prince-Consort!"

The world began to blur. Tears welled up in her eyes. This… th-this.

"You killed her husband," Radiant Star muttered, wide eyed.

She was alone again.

"I did what NONE of you had the stones to do!" Larms snapped, waving his forehoof to an increasingly horrified audience.

The energy within Celestia's chest peaked. Her breath grew deeper, coarser. Larms...

The Colonel nudged Celestia's shoulder. "Look up," he whispered, gesturing to the empty rafters. He punched one forehoof into another, glancing towards Larms.

Celestia nodded, lifting her head high. "You're right Larms," She stated. "They were merciful, and they were patient with him. It takes courage to tolerate something that might hurt you or even kill you."

Larms gave her a dismissive grunt. "What now, a speech about kindness and loyalty? You're a liar and a turnco—"

"And I am afraid," Celestia continued in a furious snarl. Her horn twitched, the golden shield flickered. "That I have run out of tolerance for you!"

The Colonel took to wing before the shield vanished, forehooves extended. Larms's eyes widened before squinting back into a glare. They collided in a thud of flesh-on-flesh. A spiral of shed feathers followed the Colonel as he span out into a nearby column, cracking it and bringing loosened rafters down around him. With a furious roar. Larms surged forward in a blur.

No! Celestia triggered her horn, flooding it with energy. She lowered her head, aiming for the charging Larms.

The burst of energy released, exploding the floor in a cloud of dust and shrapnel. Larms leapt through, driving a forehoof into her gut.

Burning air forced itself out of Celestia's lungs. Weakness sapped at her body, sending her to her knees.

Larms, huffing and panting, trotted over to her and planted a forehoof on her neck. "You brought this upon yourself." He lifted a hoof, readying to crush her skull.

Celestia struggled, gasping for breath. Gareth… she—

A sharp whine of energy filled the throne. Larms lifted his head, realisation spreading across his face before a burst of rainbow energy ripped across his body. He reared back, screaming against the tide.

Air rushed back into Celestia's chest. She gasped, pushing away and lashing out with a simple blast of magical energy.

That was enough. Larms lost his footing, sent careening into a wall. The rainbow energy pinned him, charring his fur for a full second before dissipating, letting him slide down and into a steaming heap. The stench of burnt hair filled the silence.

Celestia kneaded her throat, getting to her shaky knees. She turned back to the room.

Three hundred pairs of eyes looked back at her with nothing but guilt. Radiant Star stepped forward, bowing his head. "Celestia, we…"

The taste of iron filled Celestia's mouth. "He threatened your family, didn't he?" She asked, wiping a line of blood away from the corner of her mouth.

Radient glanced away. "Yes, but… not just that."

"So, blackmailing Canterlot's nobility was enough to convince all of you to commit treason," Celestia grumbled. "Equestria sure was going places in my absence."

Shifting sounds came from Larms's direction. He struggled to his hooves, trying to pull something from his vest.

Celestia's muscles twitched. She turned, flooding energy into her horn.

Before Larms's hoof could even clear his vest, he was tackled by a blur of blue and orange. The Colonel span Larms to the floor, savaging him with a flurry of punches before grabbing him into a backwards spinning kick. The violent thud buried into Larms's gut, driving him through the air and out the broken window. A damp thump echoed up from the courtyard.

She wasn't going to let him get away. Celestia rushed over to the window, peering outside.

Larms lay spread-eagled in the grass. He let out a few hoarse coughs, struggling to stand. He looked up at Celestia with a defiant sneer on his face.

Celestia glared back, keeping hold of the energy in her horn. Take no chances, time to blast him into unconc—

An errant arrow arched over the moon's surface.

Celestia's pulse raced. Gareth!

The Colonel placed a forehoof on her shoulder. He didn't look too good. "G-go to him ma'am, we'll handle Larms," he said, glancing back to Radiant Star. "Won't we, Star?" The noble gave a sheepish nod in response.

White wings flicked out from Celestia's back. She didn't spare a word, kicking off, out the window and towards the crumbling tower.

On hoof and on wing, the traitor-guards surged forward.

Crouching down into a fighting stance, Gareth twirled the boar spear in his hands, blunt-end facing outwards. No killing. He'd promised.

A sharp whine of energy filled the air. Before they could even get half way, a beam of golden magic blasted a swath of charging pega-guards mid-flight. They flopped to the ground into their companions, tumbling into a multi-limbed spiralling heap.

Gareth's muscles seized. He dodged to one side, slapping a falling pegasus with the butt of his spear.

Heavy, golden-shod hooves clapped onto the floorboards. Cecilia stood beside him. Her shimmering mane plastered against the side of her face, drenched in sweat, expression twisted in worry.

Fatigue and fear lifted off Gareth's body. His mouth hung open, tucking his spear under one armpit. She was alive! She was…

Blood dribbled down the other side of her mouth, mixing into her coat.

She was… having as shit a day as Gareth was. He flicked the spear around, stepped up beside her in a closed formation. "Oh good, it's nice to know that I'm not the only one who's been bleeding today."

The pega-guards untangled themselves, rushing forward with a roar. Cecilia lowered her horn, smirking. "What, that's it?" She said. "No 'oh, my dear beloved wife, who dares injure you?' I don't warrant that anymore?"

"Oh, I'm sorry," Gareth replied, sweeping his spear under a guard's legs. "Try again when you've scaled half of Canterlot, with a rat, then had a church dropped on top of you, AND had an angry horde of traitors try to blast you into oblivion!"

Cecilia shrugged, effortlessly brushing a squad of pega-guards away with a wave of her horn. "Yeah, not impressed, I got that last one, AND I had to dive into Noble Era's dreams!"

A chill ran up Gareth's spine. He paused, giving her an emphatic nod. "Yeah, alright, you win." He held up pinched fingers. "By a narrow margin."

"I can see that you've lost that headguard I gave you." She added, bucking a pair of guards. They slammed into the wall and kept going, rock raining down in their wake.

Gareth frowned, slamming a pega-guard over the head. "Come on! I had a score of Uni-guards of trying to blow me up! With. Magic. I had to use something to distract them!"

A thrum of magical energy enveloped Cecilia's bed. She clapped a hoof into the ground and dragged it up into the air. "You were--" she ground out; sweat dribbling down the side of her face. With a final tug, the mattress swatted a group of guards out of the air, both flying off into the courtyard. "You were using my gift as bait?"

"…Yes."

"You're sleeping in the courtyard, Gareth."

Gareth peered off the side of the tower. "Yeah, well, given where the bed just landed, so are you."

They turned from each other. Nothing moved or rustled. Groaning traitors crawled off, mostly down the stairwell. None of them were in any condition to fight.

Adrenaline exited out through Gareth's trembling hands. He twirled his spear, planting it into the floorboards. "Finally."

Cecilia turned to him, genuine worry in her eyes. "You're hurt," she said, a forehoof gingerly hovered around his bleeding head injury.

She was warm. Gareth sighed, gently pushing her way. "Yeah… more or less. Oh!" He dug into his belt, pulling out the bundle of research papers. "Here, I found these in Larms's house. I'm sorry, but… Larms took the actual diary."

She blinked. "Oh. D-did you look inside?"

Confusion twisted Gareth's lip. "What? No, why?"

"Is… is it true?" Cecilia quailed. Her eyes stared through him. She sniffed, choked back a sob. Tears forms in the corners of her eyes.

Determination burned in Gareth's gut. He placed a hand on Cecilia's withers. "Is what true?" A finger snaked under her chin. "Cecilia, is what true?"

"That I left," she answered. A tear rolled down her cheek. "That I left them. And all that's happening is my fault."

Solid ground swept from underneath Gareth's heart. He gripped tighter. What could he say? What could she say?

Cecilia looked him square in the eye. "It's true, isn't it?" Somewhere in there, she wanted him to prove her wrong; that she didn't leave. That this was all a misunderstanding.

But it wasn't. "Yes, Cecilia… you did."

Strength vanished from Cecilia's eyes. Her knees buckled, legs crumbling underneath her. Cecilia broke down, sobbing. "I saw it! I saw it in Era's dream."

Gareth sat down beside her. What could he say? What should he say? She wasn't the person that left, or was she? Who was to tell?

"You nearly died tonight, didn't you?" She cried.

Flashes images of crumbling brickwork, bucking hooves and sliding tiles. He couldn't look her in the eye.

Cecilia's ears swept down. She trembled, shrinking back from his touch and burying her face into her forehooves. "I'm no better than Larms."

She was warm. Gareth could feel it on his fingers, see it in her eyes. Whoever she was… whatever she was… maybe it mattered to them, to her, but only one thing had ever mattered to him. "Cecilia," he placed a hand on her cheek, cupping it. "Do you love me?"

Cecilia looked up, confused, tear-drenched cheeks puffy and red. Her hot breath tickled his nose, sweet and warm. "Gareth?"

"When you said you would marry me… was that because you loved me, or because you were lonely?" He pulled her closer, placing a hand on her forehoof.

Cecilia's eyes fluttered, widening. She pulled away from his hand. "I wouldn't believe anything that comes out of my mouth."

Gareth blew air out of his nose. That wasn't an answer. "Princess Celestia lied to Equestria like a parent would lie to a child. Eventually, the child grows up and realises the truth." He leaned forward, looking into her eyes. "You have a choice, Cecilia, follow her example, or tell the truth."

She looked up, ears perking up with them. "How?"

Gareth held the research papers up. "Give them the notes. Let them draw their own conclusions."

Her eyes widened, looking down at the note with a measure of restored hope. Then she glanced up, despair returning. "And what about you?" She whispered.

Me? Gareth frowned. What about him? "Well, you may not trust your own wedding vows, but I… I made a promise. I'm not going anywhere." He smiled. "Looks like you're stuck with me."

She let out a gasp, something between a sob and a laugh. "Oh… woe is me."

A melodramatically offended hand slapped onto Gareth's chest. "You wound my honour, dear lady! You think me to be a scoundrel?"

Cecilia flinched, genuinely concerned. She placed a forehoof on his chest. A forehoof that felt soft, warm. "No, no, I didn't mean it like—"

Soft. Warm. His wife. Love. Emotions streaked through Gareth's mind and body. He was tired, tired of being alone, tired of being apart from his wife. He'd had enough, and so had she. She needed to know who her husband was. He planned to remind her. Very carefully, Gareth placed a hand on her side.

Cecilia looked down. Her ears twitched. Ethereal wind blew her mane past Gareth's face. It smelt like the summer breeze.

It was warm. Gareth brushed the strands away and rocked forward on his heels, pushing Cecilia onto her side.

His wife let out a soft 'ah', falling with grace. She didn't move. A flush coloured her confused features. "Gareth, wh-what are you doing?" Cecilia said in a half-amused murmur.

Gareth veins lit on fire. He breathed in through his mouth: no distractions. "Like I said," he repeated, leaning over, palming the back of her head and pulling her in. "You're stuck with me."

Her eyes widened. Her lips parted.

The moment their lips touched, electric pleasure sparked through Gareth's body.

Cecilia trembled underneath him, limp, afraid. He was in complete control. Her teeth were wrong: too wide, too flat. Her tongue felt like a cat's, abrasive. The smell, the taste of horse drenched Gareth's mouth. Yet… she was warm.

He pulled back.

Their lips parted with a pop of saliva, a line trailing between them. Cecilia stared, eyes shivering, gasping, short of breath.

Heat pooled in Gareth's groin. He brushed a hand down Cecilia's cheek, whispering into an ear, "Tonight."

Cecilia's eyes snapped open, her ears wrenching towards him. "Wh-what?"

He was ready, he was sure of it. Gareth drew his finger down her neck, to her wings. A smirk crawled onto his lips. "I hope you're ready to sleep in the courtyard."

A rush of wings flapped into the remains of the tower.

Muscles burned in Gareth's cheeks, grinding his teeth. He stood, wrenching up his spear. "Oh FUCK right off!"

A monochrome Pegasus landed in front of Gareth, sending shockwaves through the floorboards and up Gareth's legs. Neither her, nor any of the other attackers wore any armour. "Princess Celestia, Prince Grey Spear! We --" she trailed off into a long, jabbering spiel.

The cavalry? Gareth frowned, glancing over to Cecilia. "Yeah, that figures."

Cecilia pushed her legs underneath her, trying to school her features. "Monochrome Sprint is saying that we've retaken the castle."

Relief swept over Gareth. "Finally, some good news."

Cecilia clicked her tongue. "Not all of it. Larms has escaped."

"Fucking, what?" Gareth wheeled around, giving the monochrome pegasus a scathing glare. "Have you considered firing all your guards and replacing them with training mannequins? It'd be cheaper! I'll draw the angry faces on them myself!"

"Gareth!" Cecilia admonished. After a brief pause, she began to nod, admitting, "Though, they would be less inclined to betrayal. I can say that we're going to be having a much smaller force after this."

Gareth jabbed a finger at the mare, who glared back. "Better training too." He turned, leaning off his spear and counting on his fingertips. "I've humiliated, what, three, four platoons… maybe an entire battalion. Just today?"

Yelling and clattering of hooves echoed up from the stairwell. Styre crawled over the side; his golden armour abandoned, wearing only a weathered and determined look on his face. A pink mane poked up behind him, trotting up the stairs, her head entirely still.

They were alive! "Styre, Butter Pie!" Gareth yelled.

Styre glanced over, returning the grin. Butter Pie nodded serenely… then her mane trembled. A beady-eyed rat poked out, sniffed the air, and then snapped its eyes to Gareth's face. It gave out a loud shriek and jumped out, rushing towards him.

Wait, was that—Gareth took a knee, reaching out with his steel glove.

The Rat jumped up onto it. It grinned, standing up on its hind legs and giving a triumphant double-'thumbs up'.

"Oh thank goodness!" Gareth sighed in relief, putting him back down.

Cecilia stared at him. Then to the Rat. Then back.

Her eyes felt uncomfortable. Gareth frowned, shifting his weight. "What? You said that they don't carry the plague."

She shook her head. "Nothing… i-it's nothing."

Alright, whatever. Time to find Larms again. Now, Styre was Larm's son, so… maybe. Gareth turned to Styre. "Your father?"

"Hn," Styre grunted, nodding. "The Cave."

Gareth frowned at Styre. Did he mean? "Outside Canterlot?"

"Hn." Styre nodded again.

Memories flicked in Gareth's mind. A damp cave. Questions about species. Late to pick up the bedroll. The cave Gareth spent the night in on the first trip to Canterlot. If Styre thought it was likely, then that was their best shot. Gareth turned to Cecilia. "Larms is going to a cave outside Canterlot, on the main road. Styre and I know where it is."

Cecilia glanced at Styre, then back. "I see." She walked forward, placing a forehoof on Gareth's shoulder. "Stay here, you've done enough tonight."

Gareth gave her a deadpan stare. "Really, Cecilia? Really?"

She shook her head. "Don't misunderstand, Gareth, we need to get there before he does. I won't underestimate him again, we need to fly."

Flying. Gravity shifted underneath just thinking about it. No. You know what? Forget it. By this point Gareth wasn't sure what he feared anymore. "Well if you're flying, then I'm flying too."

"Gareth," Cecilia explained, as though speaking to a small child. "You're afraid of heights."

"Woman, I've CLIMBED UP over three hundred yards and FALLEN DOWN over three hundred yards, all in just one fucking day! I'm a little bit past it at this point!"

Her look turned flat. "Alright then: how?"

She… had a point there. Gareth glanced at the monochrome mare. No, too small. Moreover, from the petrified look on her face, also catching on that he was sizing her up for a mount. Damn it, Cecilia may be right; there weren't any mount here that was big enough to fly him. He turned back to her.

Cecilia cocked a brow. "Well?"

Wait a minute. Gareth grinned. There WAS a mount big enough.

Cecilia glanced over her shoulder. "Wh-what is it?"

"Cecilia," Gareth began, stepping forward. "Do you remember that bet we made back in the forest?"

She paused, glancing to the ground in thought. A moment later, she looked back up with an aghast look on her face. "Gareth… no."

Gareth grinned. "Cecilia, YES."

Whipping wind blew through Gareth's hair and clothing. His proud and noble steed was certainly the later, but not so much the former as Cecilia's powerful wings propelled them through Canterlot's sky.

Gareth didn't care; he was too busy cackling into the on-rushing wind. Society was wrong, he decided, when your wife was an alicorn, it was not unseemly for her to carry her husband. Quite the opposite, riding on your alicorn wife was fucking awesome!

Chapter 17: Promises & closure

Grass separated into individual blades as Celestia flew closer to the ground. Her husband’s weight pressed into her back, lowering her centre of gravity. It was alright at first, but the added bulk meant that each beat of her wing required effort, bringing her wing muscles to a simmering burn.

She couldn’t let him fall: that meant no mistakes. Feeling the wind’s contours over her body, she flicked up over a few metres off the ground. One beat, two beat, she drifted to the ground.

Her hooves sank into soft soil, stretching onto an unimpressive cave etched into the mountainside. The rocky mouth hid behind moss, ivy and overgrown trees. No hoofprints or discarded equipment lay against its walls, nor did any sound or smell emanate from within.

"Are you sure this is the place?" Celestia asked.

"It is," Gareth replied, shifting his weight atop Celestia’s back. Grunting, he dismounted, hitting the ground in an armoured chink.

"… Are you alright?"

"Nrgh." Gareth wrung several kinks out of his back before stooping down to rub his inner thighs. "Riding a horse with wings? Not as comfortable as it looks. I feel like I’ve been riding for months."

A few kinks burred into Celestia’s back as well, right where Gareth had sat. Shuddering herself, she gave him an unsympathetic look. "Oh, terribly sorry. Shall I install a seat?"

"Not a bad idea!" Gareth said, reaching over to stroke her neck. "You’re a good horsey. Somebody’s earnt themselves a brush!"

Celestia jerked back, giving him a sour expression. She wasn’t sure if she was annoyed at Gareth for suggesting it, or herself for finding the offer tempting. No, focus Celestia, look at the cave.

No light or obvious traps. Nothing gave it away as a hiding place. Armour chinked from Celestia’s side. Gareth slid into view, drawing his spear and approaching with caution.

Panic spiked Celestia’s heart. Oh no, not this time, she thought. Stepping in front of him, she warded him off with a wing. Golden light sheathed her horn. "I’m taking the lead," she stated.

Gareth blinked. He brushed her wing down, giving her a bemused look. "Well, if you want, Cecilia. I’ve got your back."

Thank goodness, she thought. Celestia crossed the threshold into the shadows, casting golden light into dark corners.

Her light slid over rocky walls, stone spikes, and dirt. The ground got harder as they moved on, crusty and rocky. Yet, hoof trails began to appear. A grunt of realization came from Gareth, crouching down to mull over them with a touch of his fingers. He smiled, saying, "They’re fresh, Cecilia."

Celestia frowned. Fresh tracks meant Gareth was right: Larms was here. She brushed the light up, hoping to spot them before they spotted her.

A crown of spikes lay within the cavern ahead. An outline of a grey unicorn stood in the middle, pressed up against the spines and lying inwards, watching, waiting. At once, the grey unicorn flinched, turning around and holding up a forehoof to shield away the light from his squinting blue eyes.

She’d seen those eyes, that unicorn before. Celestia saw him at court, sitting in the defendant’s chair. His name was Flash Bang and he tried to hurt Gareth and Gleaming. Were this any other occasion she’d consider talking, but this time, he wouldn’t get a second chance. Focusing the energy on the tip of her horn, she leveled it at Flash Bang’s widening eyes.

A hand patted Celestia’s neck.

Celestia’s focus, along with the energy, puffed into nothing. She shot a baffled look at Gareth.

"It’s alright, Cecilia. I think he’s here for the same reason," Gareth said.

Her confusion only grew. "Gareth, that’s Flash Bang! He’s one of the guards that attacked you! I oversaw his trial myself!"

Gareth nodded, turning to the wary traitor. "I know. And just a few hours ago, he saved my life."

Celestia couldn’t believe what she was hearing, turning her baffled glare on Flash Bang.

Lowering his forehoof, Flash Bang’s ears pricked up, squinting through the beam of light in Gareth’s direction. After a moment, recognition smoothed his features. The moment his squint turned to Celestia, his recognition turned to horror. Yelping in shock, he pressed back against the tiny prison he’d found himself in.

Wonderful, Celestia grumbled, the whole cave probably heard Flash Bang’s squealing. She unfurled her wings and trotted forward. "Hello Flash Bang," she said, addressing him in Equestrian. "What are you doing here?"

The fear in Flash Bang’s eyes became defiant. "For Larms. He’s a monster, worse than you." He looked to Gareth. "He ordered us to execute Grey Spear."

"And you refused?"

"Of course we refused!" Flash Bang snapped. "We’re not the bad guys, we’re the Royal Guard! But… but I knew what our rebellion had become. Larms’ order, well, it was the last nail in the coffin. That’s why I’m going to bring him to justice… even if it has to be by my own hoof." He stamped onto the ground for emphasis. Seconds went by, and his stamp turned into mindless dirt pawing. "Or… I would have, until you showed up."

The urge to blast him ebbing away, Celestia allowed the golden light on the tip of her horn to fade. Her scowling features softened. "How many are here?"

Flash Bang clicked his tongue, glancing back into the cave. "Just a hoofful too stupid to leave."

Celestia pursed her lips. "And Grey Spear told me you saved him. Did you?"

Flash Bang shot Gareth a look, then shook his head. "No. He saved himself."

"I see." Celestia turned to her husband. "Did you catch any of that?"

Gareth twitched to attention. "Uh, no? W-was I meant to?"

"No, it’s—" The anger in Celestia’s heart flickered out. She stepped aside. "You can go, Flash Bang."

Flash Bang glared between them. With a begrudging scowl, he walked past. A few steps past he stopped, turning, as if to say something to Gareth. Words dying on his lips, he sighed and walked away.

Celestia never did see him again.

The cave system stretched on. The tracks in the dirt increased in number and density. Some old, most new. Gareth’s chinking armour and Celestia’s clopping hooves echoed off musty walls. Her golden beam became their only source of light.

Try as she might to focus, Celestia found her attention split between the path ahead and her husband behind. She kept her pace slow, hoping he’d keep close by. She looked back.

Gareth stepped through the gloom, sweeping the cave with a grim focus despite the thick bags under his eyes. His torn armour hung in tatters, fabrics peeling off in strips, metal plates lay bent. She’d never seen him so run down, so exhausted, yet so refusing to leave. His eyes swept up, noticing Celestia’s gaze. Flashing a smile and a wink, he returned to searching.

A flutter danced in Celestia’s chest. She turned back to the cave, smiling to—

Whirring hums accompanied pinpricks of light that grew in the dark. "NOW!" A unicorn cried.

"CECILIA!" Gareth yelled, rushing to throw himself in front of her.

Calm instincts directed Celestia’s response: first, a shield. She funneled the already-gathered energy in her horn and cut out a sheet of pure light, sliding it in front of her husband.

The hum turned to a whine. Rainbow colours exploded off the surface of the shield. The faces of their would-be assassins glowed in the dark, their anger waning with their beams.

Celestia allowed herself a smirk. Reaching over the top of her shield, she plucked them from the shadows. Whips of light lacing between their limbs, she pulled three unicorns into an undignified heap at their feet.

Gareth blinked, lowering his arms. "Uh…"

"Are you okay, love?"

"Sorry, I… I keep forgetting you’re magic," he admitted.

She gave him a sympathetic look. "Don’t worry Gareth, you looked very heroic."

"Would you fook’n stand DOWN already?" Larms’s growling voice echoed from within the cavern. "It’s over! Stop trying to shoot the fook’n demi-goddess!"

It’s him, Celestia thought. She glanced to her husband, gesturing forward. Gareth ought to still have that ‘notice me not’ effect to Larms, right?

Gareth nodded, stooping down and leading the way. He crept to the edge of a turn and gestured Celestia to follow.

She nodded back, approaching and gathering up her internal stores for whatever lay in ambush.

Firelight flickered off the walls, thin smoke hung in the air. Larms sat in the middle of a campsite, tending to a fire. He tapped a spoon on the side of a battered billy cup hanging over the flames, noxious brew bubbling within. A half dozen bottles lay at Larms feet, all empty.

The urge to blast him right then yelled in Celestia’s ears. She wanted to, and it’d certainly be the smart thing to do, but something stayed her hoof. It wasn’t mercy. Subduing him would be justice. No, it was something else. Celestia whispered to Gareth to keep low and then stepped out of the shadows.

Larms spared her a glance, then went back to the brew. Smiling ruefully, he let out a few humourless chuckles. "Ah guess Styre told you, aye?"

She approached, eyeing the viscous muck in the billy cup.

"Care for a drink?" Larms waved away a strange wisp rising off the top. It reeked of tar, garlic and wolfsbane.

"No thank you, I don’t drink poison."

"Suit yourself," Larms shrugged, lifting the concoction off the fire and pouring it into a mug. "Guess’ it’s a cup for one, then."

The surreal nature of the conversation hypnotized her. Celestia shook her head, self-checking for mental influence but finding nothing. She could count on Gareth to watch her back, but that little voice needed to know what Larms was trying to accomplish. Perhaps he wasn’t trying anything. Perhaps he just wanted a drink. Either way, there was only one way she could find out. Checking the dirt below her, Celestia sighed and sat down.

Larms swirled the cup, his piercing yellow eyes stared at her.

"You were right about me, Larms."

He twitched in shock, the cup nearly flinging itself out of his hooves. Re-composing himself, he stared and waited.

Celestia took another breath. "You’re right, I wasn’t ready to rule. I’d lost too much of who I was and I’m not even sure if it’s even possible to get back there. But-" She injected steel into her voice "-I haven’t changed my mind. Until then, I’m going to be there for them. How they want my help is for them to decide, not you."

Firelight flicked across Larms’ face. He looked down, considering the cup. "If that’s what you got from this, then ya haven’t learnt nothin’. What they want is somepony to do all the thinkin’ for ‘em. Given their choice, you’re going to be that pony, because they don’t know any better. That’s why Princess Celestia left. That’s why I agreed to help her." Bulging yellow eyes flicked up. "But you aren’t her. You are unstable; ‘been lying to everypony and everything since you got here. Even yourself. Especially yourself."

The anguished expressions of the Canterlot nobility surfaced in Celestia’s mind. Cold rage surged upwards. Larms had threatened their lives, their families! "And I would have agreed with your point… until the blackmail and attempted murder!"

He gave another hollow laugh. "Don’t get me wrong; I ain’t no saint, and I deserve whatever punishment you dish out. I may be a shitty leader, ‘Cecilia’, but you’re worse. I can be replaced, but you can’t. That’s my point. My children’s children deserve better."

‘Punishment’, ‘leader’, ‘children’, those words couldn’t have been coincidence. Celestia bit her lip. Larms just spilt something important. Just what was— that’s it. "You were waiting," Celestia said. "You were waiting for somepony to stop you."

Larms blinked and scoffed. "What, from myself? You think I’m some weak-willed sop actin’ out cause I couldn’t find some floozy to make doe-eyes at me? The Nobility were weak and needed to get a right kick up the—"

Celestia ignored him, trying to mash the pieces together. ‘Children’, ‘replaced’… Styre is Larms’s son, right? He should have been trying to protect him, yet he stayed aloof. After the rebellion, Styre climbed the ranks, avoiding the fallout. In the midst of the coup, Styre was kept away from the initial fighting, accompanied by the rest of the loyalist guards. His position gave Styre a means and position to fight back; that’s it. "You were waiting, Larms," she accused, "And you were waiting for Styre."

Larms froze.

"Of course you were, I can’t believe I didn’t see it before! The only pony you trusted to do the right thing was the one you pushed away the most. Keeping him at arm’s length, you even attacked him in your kidnapping attempts to deflect suspicion. Nothing lethal, of course, but bad enough to look convincing. You even sent a non-lethal specialist after him. This, all a part of your plan to keep him looking perfect. But that wasn’t enough, was it? You weakened the Nobility through blackmail, and you put Noble Era into a coma. You attempted to assassinate Gareth, and then tried to publicly execute me through a mind wipe! You would have weakened all of Equestria, but in the process, you would have gained more enemies than stars in the sky. Yet… that second part didn’t matter, did it? Nopony would have cared that Styre was your son, not when he’d taken control of the now-leaderless Royal Guard. He’d have led the charge against his father and incarcerated him, right before their eyes. In a single night, Styre would be the strongest candidate for the throne. All of Equestria would be tripping over themselves to clap a crown on his head." She levelled a dark glare at him. "In the end, you were doing the same thing to Equestria as I was."

He didn’t meet her gaze, not at first. Larms swirled the cup, sniffing the brim. "This is a magically active mind-wipe potion. A Zebra shaman taught me—"

A fiery rebuke burnt up from Celestia’s chest. "Answer me, Larms!" She roared.

Cup clattering in his now-shaking hooves, Larms continued in a croakier voice, "—I-it’s meant to be enchanted beforehand to target specific mental trauma. A typical dosage is a teaspoon. Larger dosages can cause severe long-term memory loss. And a cup?"

‘Meant to be enchanted’. The words bounced around in Celestia’s head.

Larms worked his jaw, giving her a sad look. "Princess Celestia swigged it right before she went into the portal, didn’t she? You have to… Princess, you have to believe me when I say that I didn’t know that there weren’t no magic on the other side. It’s amazing the potion didn't lobotomise you." He chuckled, staring down the cup like the barrel of a cannon. "Not that I'll have that problem."

That’s his plan. A sickening-sweet sensation turned Celestia’s guts. She stood up and stared him down.

His lower lip trembled. The cup moved closer, pulled on a final course. "I’ve… I’ve done a lot of bad things, Celes—" He stopped, eyes refocusing on the mare in front of him. Tears welled up in the corners of his eyes. "I-It’s better this way. You’ll be a hero, and I’ll be gone."

Celestia didn’t move. "I won’t stop you."

The light died in Larms’ eyes. He nodded, lifting the cup to his lips with a pair of shaving hooves.

"But-"

Larms looked up, staring, pleading.

"Styre will miss you."

Liquid sloshed in the trembling cup. Larms bit into his lip, hard enough to draw blood. With a final gasp, Larms flipped the cup to the ground, sending a gushing spray of black liquid into the dirt. He hung his head, squeezing both eyes shut.

"Larms?"

"You win." Larms looked up, eyes hollow, devoid of courage or deviance. "I surrender."

That image would forever burn into Celestia’s mind.

A shout echoed from the entrance of the cave. Hooves galloped closer. Gareth approached, ready to spring an ambush. He retreated upon seeing Styre’s distinct silhouette. Within minutes, Styre placed his father under arrest.

Larms’ coup had failed.

The road to Canterlot lay ahead, barren for that time of morning. A few travellers approached the city, and those that did spared odd glances at the Princess and Prince-consort. They walked in silence, sharing only the crunch of sandy cobblestone underneath Gareth’s boots and the clopping of Cecilia’s hooves.

Each step got harder for Gareth to take, restricted by his shin-guards. The events of the past day were catching up with a vengeance. His aching gauntlet hand shook, lifting to block out the mid-morning sun. Muscles in his back seized up, aggravated by the jangling chain of his hauberk digging into his shoulders. Oh, and he dared not try to take a whiff of himself: he may not survive the attempt.

Heavy hooves clopped up from behind. Cecilia’s face poked into view, giving him an appraising look. "You look tired. Why don’t you take off your armour? I can carry it for you."

Gareth forced a smile. "I’ll be fine," he rasped.

"Really?" She cocked a brow, turning to Canterlot. "Because I give you until the castle gates before I’m carrying you AND your armour. I’d prefer to just carry the armour."

A sour expression scrunched Gareth’s face. His pride plundered the depths of his wit for a response to that. Traitor that he was, ‘wit’ decided she had a point.

"Gareth." Cecilia jabbed a forehoof to the shade of a nearby tree. "Armour. Off."

Several choice words grumbled under Gareth’s breath. He stormed off to the tree, finding himself there in seconds. First came the gauntlet, tearing at the buckles and straps, scowling at the sudden chore.

The metal overlay came off with the padded glove underneath, revealing blue and yellow bruises along his flesh. A fresh breeze wind rolled across his stinking, sweltering skin.

Oh… oh, wow. Goosepimples sprang up along Gareth’s body, unconscious shivers rocking through him in a shockwave of relief. He released the gauntlet, letting it fall to the grass.

Magic shimmered in the air. Golden light encased the gauntlet and flickered away. Again, it shimmered and glowed, again it died. Cecilia gave a sigh. "This magical resistance is proving to be an enduring annoyance, Gareth."

Gareth chuckled, turning. "Really? Well, it’s also the reason why I’m still alive." He unbuckled his outer belt, leather pouches rattling as it fell away.

Cecilia’s horn hooked up underneath his belt, plopping it onto her back. She looked over, reaching a forehoof out to the buckles on his spaulders. After fumbling with the latch for a few moments, she went for the shin-guards, which were also buckled on. Left eye twitching, she nipped onto the tip of his hauberk tugged up… only to find that they were pinned in place by the straps on his spaulders.

Gareth blinked.

Cecilia froze. Big pink eyes stared.

"Ya done?" He deadpanned.

Heavy red coloured her cheeks. She mumbled through the chain links, "Uh, re-und meh, wash ‘omes off nesht?"

"...What?"

She squeaked, releasing the chain links with a smack of her lips. "Uh, remind me, which one comes off next?"

"Oh." Gareth gave a wry smile. Leaning down, his fingers worked the delicate clasps.

Clip after clip, buckle after buckle, Gareth’s armour fell away. Cecilia tugged away each freed piece, depositing them on her back. With every disappearing weight, a sigh of relief expelled from Gareth’s lungs. Before long, a small, dirty armoury piled up onto Cecilia’s back; she carried all with an effortless dignity and strength.

By the end, Gareth stood in nothing but his Equestrian-given clothes. A pair of leather boots, trim, tailored pants, and a silvery tunic. Sweat soaked his entire body; through his hair, his beard, between his toes, and armpits. Soaked through, the pleasant shade of the tree wasn’t so pleasant anymore. Freezing, more like. He crawled out into the blessed warmth of the sun, laying over on the field of grass, and staring out to the horizon.

Equestria’s valleys and hills lay before him. Rolling greens and forests. The thundering waterfall that fell from Canterlot journeyed into a river, disappearing in the distance. Clouds brushed the sky in streaks, accenting, not blocking, the enormous blue sky.

Aches nagged Gareth’s muscles. A good ache, he decided.

Heavy hooves followed behind. Cecilia breathed in to say something, but she cut herself off. Her ears flicked once. Armour jingled as she reclined beside him.

He smiled to her, mindlessly tugging at the fresh blades of grass.

Silence filled the air. A distant flight of Pegasai passed overhead, soaring out from one of the larger clouds.

"So… what now?" Gareth asked.

"Bath, breakfast, bed," Cecilia sighed. "In that order."

Sounded good, but not what he meant. Gareth worked a crick out of his neck. "I meant 'long term’."

"... I see."

He looked up. "Any thoughts?"

She pursed her lips, gazing out to the horizon. "I’ve been thinking about what you said in the tower. About my ruling Equestria."

"What did Larms say?" Gareth growled. He knew he should have taken the chance to stab that dickless manipulator.

Cecilia sighed. "Only that Equestria would fall in behind me again. And if I put even the slightest effort towards it, they will." She met his gaze, adamant. "Gareth, they need me right now. Maybe not in the long term, but they do right now, even if it’s just to clean up the mess made by my return."

Alright then, Gareth thought to himself, shrugging. "How does that explain ‘long term’? Because, mistake me if I’m wrong, but ‘fix things’ still isn’t an actual plan."

She nodded. "You’re right. This won’t be easy, and I’m going to keep making mistakes for a while yet. But history teaches us to at least make different mistakes." Her eyes turned to the horizon. "That’s why I'm going to expand Equestria's borders."

What? Gareth frowned. "Didn't the Pegasai have a problem with that, regarding protecting the peasantry or something?"

"They did, and so did I. Gareth, I tried to protect everypony, and in the process, I've protected nopony."

"So… your answer is to NOT try?"

Cecilia chuckled, saying, "Of course I'm going to try! But ponies need to protect themselves. You taught me that, Styre taught me that, and yes, even Larms taught me that."

A clump of grass tore away in Gareth’s tightened fist. He stared down at it, unwinding his hand and letting the blades float away. "So what will you do when ponies die?"

Emotion streaked across Cecilia’s face. She stared to the horizon, eyes filled with equal parts hope and dread.

Gareth turned, placing a hand on her neck.

The vibrations of her rasping sigh ran through Gareth’s palm. "I… I can’t stop that, nopony can. All I can do is prepare." Metal jangled as her neck pulled away. Cecilia stood and looked to the detachment of Pegasai landing at Canterlot castle. "We all need to prepare. Equestria started as a treaty between three tribes of ponies. They sought friendship for one and all, a beautiful dream, and one that I am little more than a caretaker of. Equestria’s promise must not be trapped in the shadow of my fear."

Gareth grinned.

Cecilia turned back with a self-effacing smile. "Convincing enough?"

He snorted, standing and dusting clumps of soil from his thighs. "Talk more about friendship: they’ll eat it up."

"Gareth!" Cecilia chided, unable to keep the amusement out of her voice.

"So, what’s my job in all this? Besides being the royal masseur?"

Cecilia tilted her head. A thoughtful expression crossed her face. "Well, it’s funny you mention that."

"Hmm?"

"Gareth," she turned to him, smiling. "How do you feel about having your old job back?"

Author's Notes:

'Sup everybody!

I thought I'd bow, scrape and make apologies for the titanic lag in getting this story done... but that would take up even more time. So, have a new chapter instead!

As for the near future, this is the first of the last two chapters of the Sun & the Rose! Chapter 18 (which is currently in Beta) ought to be released sometime next week.

Oh... and as for past that... there is a mystery entry on the horizon.

Chapter 18: Friendship & peace

A white haze swelled around snow-glazed frost. Drifting snowflakes and brown tree trunks obscured all sight beyond a few dozen yards. Leaves of the trees swayed, depositing droplets of frozen white with each brush.

Freezing air clung to Gareth’s lungs, extracting a shudder from his chest. Stealth was key, keeping a careful grip on the bottom of the longbow slung over his shoulder. His eyes dipped to the ground, watching the placement of his padded boots.

The boots were part of his new winter attire commissioned by Cecilia. Now he looked every part of a royal on the hunt: wrapped head to toe in artistically crafted, Equestrian-woven fabrics, the silver and blue warded off the winds of winter and heated his core.

Gareth felt like he was swathed in bed linens. He smiled, running a gloved hand over his abdomen. If this is what ‘getting soft’ felt like, well, he could live with that.

A clump of snow thudded a few yards away. Tiny feet scuffled.

Gareth stopped. His ear twitched, waiting for more noise.

Nothing came.

Good. Lowering his stance, Gareth tightened the bow further against his back. Everything loose needed to be tightened. His hand dropped to the metal instruments on his belt, his dagger.

More small puffs and crunches came from a nearby tree.

Gareth’s teeth clenched; he would lose it at this rate, and chasing a small animal through the snow was not something he cared to deal with right now. Giving his belt one more tug, Gareth approached.

Stepping around a tree, a baby rabbit sat at the bottom of a snow bank. A long bramble wrapped over its hind leg, pulling it down no matter how the bunny struggled.

A sigh forced its way out of Gareth’s lungs.

The baby rabbit’s ear twitched, turning to Gareth’s direction. Its head wobbled up, pink nose flicking, fixing him with a sleepy stare.

Gareth crouched, running a pair of forefingers over its back and stopping at its hind leg. His hands joined and snapped off the bramble with an inaudible crick.

Trembling once, the baby rabbit pulled its injured hind leg back in. It drove a tiny divot in the snow, waddling towards him.

He scooped the warm lump out of the snow, dusting white flakes off its fur. Cupping it to his chest in both hands, he turned towards the rabbit warren it had just crawled out of.

Within minutes, the baby lay among its family. A blanket of fuzzy animals, curled up around their mother, father, and siblings at the base of a strong tree. It was warm. They all were.

That warmth didn’t leave Gareth’s heart. He brushed snow over the exit tunnel. Time to head back. Taking care to be quiet, he retraced his steps through the courtyard forest all the way back to the clearing where ‘his’ gazebo lay.

The gazebo’s oak-like wood remained as frozen as he had left it. A book of notes lay on the table, flickering over at the wind’s brush. Just beyond lay a frozen archery bale, several fresh arrows sagging out of the bale's bullseye.

Gareth sighed in relief. With that brief instance of excitement over, it was back to his notes. He unstrung his bow and lay it by a railing. Pulling up a bench and picking up a feathered quill, he loomed back over his notes. Now where was he…? Ah right, ‘Degloving’.

Rodent tails:
-Ponies have tendency to pick up rats by tail with mouth. Bad. Can cause serious injury to rat, and pony can contract illness. Encourage owners to handle by coaxing rodent onto upturned forehoof.

Gareth swirled the quill into an ink pot, adding a passage:

‘-If tail is injured, follow standard first aid. Shave around furred area. Clean with small ale. Apply honey to injury and wrap with bandages. Replace twice daily. Check rodent for signs of distress.’

Hoofsteps crunched from behind.

Gareth paused, running a thumb up and down the quill's spine. Those hooves were too small to be Cecilia's, and he thought he'd made it clear to the Guard that this part of the courtyard was off limits during winter. He tapped the tip of the quill on the side of the ink pot. Hmmm. No, let them be, they were probably just taking a shortcut. Gareth re-dipped the tip, ready to continue.

The hoofsteps ended at the base of the gazebo. A masculine throat cleared itself.

Annoyance twisted Gareth’s jaw. Breathing an angry sigh, he placed the still-dripping quill down and turned.

Swathed in heavy blankets, an emaciated, golden unicorn stared back. Strands from his dishevelled, sickly silver mane stuck to his neck, body, and face, while his bulging, sunken eyes traced up and down Gareth’s body. Noble Era looked the part for a unicorn that had just woken up after a year-long nap. His lips twitched, forming a few silent words before speaking in shaky English, “H-hello Gar-eth.”

Emotions with the names of ‘annoyance’, ‘disgust’, ‘pity’ and ‘sympathy’ swirled in Gareth’s chest. He pointed to the bench opposite the table, speaking in accented Equestrian, “Sit down.”

“T-thank you,” Noble Era breathed. Hobbling hoofsteps clopped up the gazebo’s stairs, collapsing into a bench. Magic jingled around Noble Era’s horn. White light tugged his blanket tighter. “Ho-how long has it been?”

“A year,” Gareth whispered. He reached to the silk scarf around his neck, pulled it down, and wrapped it around Noble Era’s. “Keep warm, keep hydrated, and keep quiet. Your muscles have wasted away, but that’s no excuse to wake the animals.”

Noble era blinked, brushing a forehoof over Gareth’s scarf. He stared, unabashed. “Y-you speak Equestrian?”

“I do,” Gareth said, sliding over his waterskin. “Now drink this. I’m surprised that Witch let you out of bed.”

Era cringed. “N-not exactly…”

Oh God, Gareth thought, eyes darting to the window of Doctor Legata’s office. He half expected her to explode out of it any moment now, breathing fire, casting the evil eye, continuing her undying mission to get her charge back to bed. Huh. Come to think of it, Legata always did seem to be a little more protective of Noble Era than most...

Era’s eyes drifted to the waterskin. Summoning more magic, he lifted it and took a few weak swallows. One, two, thr-- th-three. The light faded, strobing out, dropping the waterskin with a wet slap onto the table. Era shot Gareth an anguished look. “S-sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Gareth replied, snapping out of his thoughts and righting the now-soggy waterskin.

“What happened to Larms?”

“Tartarus,” Gareth answered, “As with most of the ringleaders. They'll be there for a decade… if they're good. And before you ask, yes, Cecilia is on the throne again."

“Good,” Era sighed in relief.

“...and I’m still the prince-consort.”

“…Oh.”

Gareth grinned.

Era cringed. “F-forgive me, I-I didn’t mean it like that.”

The grin on Gareth’s face dug wider. He reached over, giving Noble Era a magnanimous pat on the forehead head. “You are forgiven, my dear subject. It is good that you remember your place.”

The apology on Noble Era’s face evaporated. “Don’t push it, ‘prince-consort’. I’m still the representative of the Unicorns.”

“O-ho?”

Era’s golden ears flopped down. “I’m not, am I?”

“Correct,” Gareth replied. “That honour goes to Gleaming Horizon, while Styre is now representative of the Earth Ponies, oh, and Monochrome Sprint took over for the Pegasai."

“That’s… not my first choice. For any of them.”

Gareth shrugged. “A year ago I'd agree, but they've changed a lot," he said, standing. "We’ve all changed. Now come on Era, you need to go back to bed."

The blanket-swathed unicorn looked up. He didn’t move.

“Era?”

“Gar-eth… do you know the significance of my cutie mark?”

“No,” Gareth said, nor did he really care.

Era leaned in. “These pages on my flank are empty, ready to be filled. At first, I thought my special talent was to write about Princess Celestia. Then, when she left, I thought they were meant for me, but now?" Era took a breath, looking Gareth in the eye. "Gar-eth… would you allow me to write your life story?"

The words slapped Gareth to attention. He froze, eyes wandering about the peaceful snowy courtyard. Peaceful: that’s how he would describe his life right now. Even at Rockingham Castle, even with Cecilia by his side, he’d felt contention, grief, and violence. Here, he felt none of that. Perhaps Equestria was different. Or perhaps his new status shielded him from it. Or perhaps he’d simply found an inner peace he’d long sought. Perhaps.

“Gareth?”

No, Gareth didn’t want to remember, nor did he want others to know. His life in England was nasty, brutish and short. The chances of that life coming to infect Equestria… no, no, he refused to expose them to the risk. “No.”

“I see,” Era pursed his lips, averting his eyes. “I imagine that Gleaming Horizon would be the better choice of Autobiography—“

“No, Era, you misunderstand. Nopony should. Nopony will, ever.”

Noble Era’s gaze snapped back, confused.

“Cecilia chose to hide the mirror and my origin. I don’t want to give ponies a reason to go looking for England,” Gareth said.

“And what if your people come through?”

“They can’t,” Gareth replied. “Cecilia and Gleaming Horizon deactivated the mirror, and then hid it below Canterlot. For all my people know, I'm dead. No one will come looking. The only thing left to do is make sure nopony HERE goes looking for it."

“What if I just don’t write about the mirror?”

A sharp retort died on Gareth’s lips. He rubbed his hands together, trying to come up with an adequate answer. “There's… there are many worthier people to write about. In the end, you were right, I'm little more than Cecilia's attack dog. Only now I've learnt to roll over and play fetch."

Era narrowed his eyes. A gust of wind flickered through Gareth’s notes. Era stood, legs shaking underneath, scanning the pages below. “One of your ‘tricks’?”

Gareth ha’rumped, crossing his arms. “Cecilia decreed that animals may return to Canterlot castle. The ones in the courtyard are under my protection; I need to keep them well.”

“And these notes?” Era pointed out a diagram of a rabbit.

“What, this?” Gareth picked up the collection, dropping a stone atop them as a paperweight. “They’re notes on animal treatments. Gleaming Horizon encouraged me to write in Equestrian, helps keep me sharp."

Era’s weak brows rose into his mane. He looked closer, marveling. “Your calligraphy is beautiful… and with so many pages! May I borrow your notes for the night?"

Gareth frowned. So that’s his angle. “You may, but if you're hoping to glean information about me from it, then you're wasting your time."
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Era replied, smiling.

Uh-huh.

Tiny claws skittered over wood, up the railings and onto the tabletop. A sleek bundle of brown fur looked up to Gareth. The chunks missing from his right ear identified him as being Rat. He stood up on his hind legs, waving claws around. “Grey Spear, Grey Spear! Princess Celestia is waiting for chrick squeaker squeaken--” Rat’s language turned to indiscernible squeaks to Gareth’s ears.

Gareth’s frowned, lifting a hand. “Slow down Rat, I’m still learning animal. Take a deep breath and tell me what’s wrong.”

Unheeding, Rat just got lowered, jabbing two claws towards the courtyard exit. “Celestia, Celestia! Hearth’s Warming EVE!"

Wha? Gareth scratched his beard, thinking. Was he meant to be somewhere…?

“Remember, Gareth, come before nightfall,” Celestia’s muzzle pressed into Gareth’s neck. “I have a surprise for you.”

Gareth’s lower lip curled into his mouth. Oh God, it had been sundown for at least a good hour by now. Celestia was going to kill him.
Era looked up from the notes. “What’s wrong?”

Gareth unwound his jaw. With a gloved hand, he scooped up Rat and dropped him onto his shoulder. “I’m late for something,” he replied.
A flick of paper. Noble Era brushed through Gareth’s notes, nodding. “Well, please, don’t let me keep you. Your stilted grammar will take some time to pick through.”

Panic shifted into annoyance, Gareth fixed Era with a frown. Era was going to freeze himself to death out here, but he just didn’t have time to drag him back to Legata’s quarters. There was only one recourse to take. He walked over to his bow, strung it, and nocked an arrow. Taking a moment to spot it, he took aim at the window to Doctor Legata’s office.

Shrre-eek

SNAP!

The arrow whistled through the air, twistling harmlessly off the glass pane. An outraged shout came from within, leading to several loud stomps. The pane slapped open and Doctor Legata emerged, eyes bulging, mouth billowing white breath. After a moment of wild looking, her furious eyes settled on Gareth.

Gareth thumbed at Noble Era.

Legata’s gaze slid off, her full fury igniting upon seeing Era’s face. Somehow, Era’s golden face grew even paler.

Grinning, Gareth turned and clapped a hand on Era’s shoulder. “Take all the time you need.”

Grey grit and white snow mixed between the cobblestones of Canterlot’s business district. The buildings grew with each passing day, expanding outward and upwards. Green, thistle ornaments hung over frosted scaffolds and fire-lit windows. Seasonal festivities were in full force, as were the freezing winds that brushed over Gareth’s face.

Gareth suppressed a shiver and fixed his cloak higher. His boots crunched through the cold streets, weaving through his equestrian subjects standing at half his size.

The numbers swelled further towards the centre of the district. Ponies chattered between packing carts and wagons, filling the air; which direction they were going, what lands looked safest, what fields looked lushest. Many disagreed on the direction, but their starting point would all start at first sight of the melting snow. In spring, Canterlot would experience an exodus unlike anything Equestria had ever seen before.

The burn of frost on his nose and sweet scent of burning wood hearkened back to Gareth’s childhood. He smiled. He couldn’t have been much older than some of these foals when he began traveling with his father. Those journeys, fraught with beauty and terror… he neither envied nor pitied them, satisfied with the knowing that he and Cecilia had done all they could to prepare them for the roads ahead.

Rat poked out of the folds of Gareth’s cloak. He chittered something, too fast for Gareth to catch, to a passing stallion in a top hat. Wait, not the stallion, but to the white cat perched atop the stallion’s withered head.

The flat-faced cat gave Rat a calculating glare. His paws kneaded into the rich stallion’s petticoat, tail twitching left and right. Yet, the tom made no move, disappearing along with its owner into the crowd.

Gareth smiled, stroking a finger over Rat’s back. That was the third pony today he’d seen toting around a pet. Such a sudden enthusiasm for pets was enough to make a gamekeeper blush. He didn’t blush, of course, Gareth was far too stoic and manly to ever consider showing such emotion in—

Something bounced off Gareth’s legs, something soft. A startled, feminine squeak came from a stunned, green pegasus.

Grunting once, Gareth stood firm. Rat wriggled through the coat’s neck, trying to get a better look.

The green mare jolted back, blinking up at Gareth. She was young, with a wavy, white mane. Her mouth flopped open, wings tangling over themselves to fold back up. “Y-your highness!” She bowed low. “Forgive me, I-I didn’t-- I mean—“

Oh. Gareth lifted a palm. “It’s alright, it happens a lot. Please, just call me ‘Grey Spear’.”

“Oh my, I couldn’t!” The mare squeaked, blushing. She blinked, leaning back in with a gossip-hungry expression. “W-wait, d-does this really happen a lot?”

The phantom pain of numerous ponies barging into Gareth’s legs rushed back. Perhaps his next fashion accessory ought to be a metal codpiece. It would only take one inattentive unicorn and… he decided to not continue that line of thought. “In… crowded places it does,” Gareth decided. “Forgive me for the bother, but do you happen to work or live around here?”

“Oh?” The mare’s face brightened. “I-I do, your highness. How may I help?”

“I need directions to a, uh, ‘Three-Tribes hall’.”

“Is that all? It’s over there!” She brushed a hoof to a massive, stone structure. Three stories tall and fifty yards wide, the building grew out of Canterlot’s walls.

Ah. Heat burned Gareth’s cheeks. Of course, he’d seen the hall numerous times on his walks around Canterlot, but he never knew what it was called. “Thank you, ma’am,” Gareth replied.

She beamed back. “The pleasure is all mine! Oh, u-um,” shrinking in on herself, she opened her mouth again. “Are you going to see Princess Celestia there? Wh-what’s she really like? I-is she as wonderful as everyone says?”

“Well, she’s—“

Rat let out an annoyed squeak. He crawled out onto Gareth’s shoulder, fixing the mare with a scowl. “This prince Grey Spear! Respect! Show respect!” He squeaked.

The mare’s eyes turned blank, uncomprehending. “Uh, i-is that a rat? Is it your pet?”

“Yes,” Gareth said, giving Rat a sympathetic glance. Of course the truth was more complicated than that, but he doubted this mare would understan—

“What kind of pet does princess Celestia have?”

Gareth’s train of thought ground to a halt. “She… doesn’t have a pet.”

“Oh, but she must!” The mare insisted. “My mare-friends say that a good pet reflects their owner! The princess ought to own something as truly magnificent and immortal as she, like a phoenix!”

Something immortal…

The wooden doors to Three-Tribes Hall stood half as tall as the building it was attached to. A sea of eager mares and stallions clutching tickets and tightening winter hoods and jackets stood before them. They pushed their way through the gargantuan set of doors opened by a yard-wide crack, draining a thin line of ponies into the hall.

Gareth pursed his lips. He could wade through the crowd and barge his way in, but he wouldn’t dare risk it with that many unicorns in the crowd. Oh, and it would be impolite. That too.

A tiny claw tugged on the chin of Gareth’s beard. Rat pointed around the side of the building.

Being impossible to glare at from this angle, Gareth did the next best thing and swatted the claw away. Still, Rat had a point. He curled around the crowd. Perhaps they could find a servant’s entrance?

Not halfway around the side, a door slammed open.

A twitch shocked Gareth’s body. He turned side-on to the door, resting a calm hand on his belt-dagger.

A furious, puffed-up fop stood in the doorframe, billowing white smoke from his nostrils. His face twisted in sharp contrast to the whimsical attire slapped onto his body. The caramel pants and brown jacket bristled with fine stitch and gold embroidery. A chestnut shaped hat perched atop his head, held in place only by a pair of twitching, red ears. Yellow eyes locked with Gareth’s. The fop blinked.

Gareth returned the confused frown with one of his own. Wait a minute, he recognised that stunned-cow expression!

Styre let out a growl of muted rage. He threw his forelegs wide, giving Gareth a ‘and where the hell have YOU been?’ look.
Gareth did his best to choke back screaming laughter.

Rat did not, letting out a howling chortle. Styre’s left eye twitched.

Oh wow. Gareth had forgotten that Styre had a ‘role’ in this little event. He mimed writing something in his palm as an answer.

An unimpressed grimace twisted Styre’s features. He stormed over to Gareth, stuffing two forehooves into the small of Gareth’s back and pushing him inside.

Those digging hooves hurt, but Gareth wasn’t going to show it. He pushed back, taking a few laborious steps on over to the hall, letting the stallion struggle against him.

The chill of the wind and the babbling of the crowd died the moment Styre closed the door. Soft murmurings and rehearsed lines echoed down the torch-lit halls. Styre gestured Gareth to follow. Wooden floorboards creaked underhoof. Rat’s ears perked up, chittering to himself in Gareth’s ear.

Nostalgia served up old memories. Gareth never enjoyed going to plays. They were all too ‘preachy’ for his tastes. Maybe it was because people like Gareth never fared too well in them. Or maybe—wait, Styre was glaring.

Styre gave another angry beckon, leading to back stage.

Oh wow.

Elaborate, vibrant costumes. Genuine snow, sparkling with preserving magic. A mechanical pulley system, yanking backdrops on and off stage. Actors murmuring between each other, reciting lines, going through motions.

Gareth found himself smiling. Everything looked so vivid, so fantastic. Could Canterlot really afford such extravagance? He looked around for Styre, where did he—

"Hello, Gar-eth," a far-off voice said.

Huh? Gareth looked down. Oh! "Butter Pie!"

He could barely recognised her with all the makeup on. Shadow around her eyes, golden bangles encrusting her hooves, her pink curly hair straightened and pulled into a plait. The one unfortunate choice was her tight blue dress, which, well, accentuated a growing feature of hers.
Was that…? Gareth cocked a brow and placed a hand on his stomach.

Butter Pie blinked, mimicking him. A blushing smile ensued. She nodded.

Gareth's other brow joined the first. She was pregnant! A giddy grin burnt his cheeks.

Rat’s warm, fuzzy body squirmed from underneath Gareth's lapel, letting out a few quick chirps.

She blushed, bowing her head. "Y-yes, I suppose that's true."

Gareth frowned. Rat was speaking too fast again. "Sorry, what did he say?"

"Oh!" Butter Pie's eyes shot open. "He was just saying that… as a father too, Styre must be excited as well."

Huh. "That's a good point, where the hell is Styre? Why didn't he tell me when I first saw—"

A forehoof hooked onto Gareth's arm. Butter Pie wore a pleading look on her face. "Please, Gareth. I want to tell him myself," she whispered.

Gareth's floating eyebrows came back down. He grimaced, but nodded. Well, that explained why Styre wasn't bouncing off the walls. Butter Pie was a baker; maybe he just thought she was growing a bit husky? "Alright," he whispered back. "Just… don't strain yourself. Okay?"
"Gar-eth!" Styre shouted from beside a flight of stairs. Butter Pie stood by one of the curtains backstage, smiling, and gesturing for her husband to follow.

Gareth gave Styre a knowing look.

Styre blinked.

“Off you go,” Gareth said, smirking.

Without another word, Styre brushed past, seeking his wife.

"Hey, Rat?" Gareth said, curling around his fuzzy friend and depositing him on a nearby bench, “This is where we part.”

Rat gave a look of mock dejection before giving Gareth a cheeky thumbs up. He ran down the table’s leg, rushing over to the curtains.

Eavesdropping little scamp, Gareth thought. Still, he’d love to be there as well. Joy gushed in Gareth’s heart for the young couple. To have a child so soon… it forced your eyes forwards instead of dwelling on the past. Such a silly, simple, dangerous thing. A beautiful thing.

He’d never have such a thing with Cecilia.

The stage turned dull, muted. Styre yelled in delight, pulling his wife into a hug. He spoke, but the words didn’t reach Gareth’s ears. Actors turned, assailing the happy couple with cheer and well-wishes.

Gareth’s joy turned sour. He turned his back and mounted the staircase. The last thing he wanted was for Styre to see the bitter envy on his face.

Wooden steps creaked underfoot. The stairs wound up and around the side of the stage, turning a corner, and into a hall. Simple furnishings turned gold. Gilded ponies embossed the walls, racing down the corners to the pair of double doors at the end. A pair of spear-wielding Royal Guards stood in attendance, staring off into the distance.

Gareth slowed. He cleared his throat.

Feathers split into the air. They snapped to attention, readying their spears. “Your highness!” The guards stereoed.

“Tired?” Gareth asked. He knew that most ponies could just make him out these days, especially with these Equestrian-made clothes. They didn’t have an excuse.

“No, sir!” They parted to one side, pushing the double doors open. A luxurious white-gold couch, standing as high as Gareth was tall, overlooked the stage. A single, white horn hovered up from the middle of the couch.

Sweat prickled along Gareth’s skin. He gnawed at his lower lip, trying to find something suave to say. But nothing came to mind. Resigning himself to his fate, Gareth stepped inside. Please don’t be mad, please don’t be mad, please don’t be—

Cecilia reclined in the middle of the couch, dressed in all her finery. She didn’t turn to Gareth’s approach, instead staring out to the empty stage and gradually-filling seats below.

Gareth cringed. Oh yeah, she was mad. He inched onto his part of the couch. The cold part. He worked his jaw and glanced over to her, trying to read her face.

She looked beautiful. Her regal, ivory dress, cut with frills at her lowerlegs and flanks. Her ethereally waving hair seemed different, pulled down into a waterfall around her neck instead of the wind over her back. Cecilia’s eyes drifted towards him.

Gareth smiled, hoping she’d smile back.

Her eyes snapped away, focusing on stage with an exaggerated scowl.

Oh, so that’s how it is. Gareth turned and got himself comfortable.

The white couch felt like satin and smelled of roses. It stood a foot off the ground, higher leg-clearance than any normal pony would need. The same could be said for much of its features; a higher backrest, armrests at the far corners, and some very generous legroom.

“It’s a nice chair,” Gareth admitted, trying to break the silence.

Cecilia nodded.

Gareth’s heart panged. Oh yeah. He’d screwed up, bad. Perhaps a bit of misdirection might help? “Sorry I got caught up,” he said. “Noble Era woke up from his coma. We had a chat.”

“Good.” She continued to stare.

Gareth crossed his arms.

Cecilia stole another glance. She twitched away.

“So,” Gareth began, “Hearth's Warming Eve. You know, Gleaming Horizon told me the story last night. Three pony tribes joining together on the eve of the winter solstice. Very festive. The thing that gets me is all the other things I’m seeing; ponies hanging floral wreaths, candied canes that look like barber-surgeon poles, those silly pine trees that uncle was so fond of decorating, and now, a morality play.”

She kept her gaze up. Her eyes squeezed together, turning to him with an apologetic smile. “Was I that transparent?”

The knot in Gareth’s stomach loosened. “We’ve got a few more years until the portal opens,” he said. “We have plenty of time to put off our feelings of undue paranoia.”

“I’m sorry, Gareth.” A begrudging giggled forced its way out of her mouth. “I just… I wanted to make you feel at home.”

Gareth quirked a brow. “I am home.”

“You know what I mean,” she said. “Now that Equestria is stable again, it needs a new official holiday to help blow off some steam. When I saw the suggestion of Hearth's Warming Eve, I remembered Christmas in England… and I remembered you enjoying it.”

Really? He certainly remembered enjoying the hog hunt part of Christmas. Cecilia asked him to come back after he’d succeeded, apparently expecting to have a wild hog in tow. Well, he did. With the hog’s head on a silver platter.

She fainted.

In hindsight, Gareth really ought to have better explained what they were hunting the pig for. Wait, crap, Cecilia’s still talking—
“What I’m trying to say is that you’ve changed for Equestria,” she lifted a forehoof, “And so have I. I just think that it’s time that both Equestria and I make some changes for you.”

Is THAT what this is about? He chuckled. “Cecilia… I appreciate this, but it’s okay! I’m okay. You’re still the woman I fell in love with, and if that ever changes, you’ll be the first to know.” Gareth scooted in, favoring her with a smile. “We’ve gotten a lot better at talking with each other, Cecilia, so I think we’ve both earnt a little trust.”

She squinted at him. “Oh really? Then perhaps you can tell me about that mysterious, two-legged, spear instructor the Royal Guards have acquired?”

A bead of sweat rolled down Gareth’s cheek. He gave a nervous smile. “Well, uh, h-he sounds handsome?”

“Gareth,” Cecilia warned.

“I-It’s a mercy, really. Have you seen their spear drills? It’s embarrassing!”

“Mm-hm.”

Red stage curtains drew back along a metal bar. The mocked-up interior of a wooden house stood centre stage. A young colt walked up, beginning the opening narration.

Gareth flicked a smile towards Cecilia.

Cecilia smiled back. She reached forward and pulled his shoulders down to rest on her withers. The sweet smell of roses mixed in with the natural musk and warmth radiating from her body. “Merry Christmas,” she whispered.

“Happy Hearth's Warming.”

They stayed that way for a while. Gareth spent as much time staring at Cecilia as he did at the stage. No wonder, he thought, the play wasn’t exactly brilliance. Monochrome Sprint talked over the other actors’ lines, Gleaming Horizon spoke so softly she may as well been mute, and Styre… well, he acted like a stallion who’d just been told that he was going to be a father.

Gareth chuckled. Okay, maybe it didn’t hurt so much now.

“Do you like it?” Cecilia whispered in a scene change.

“The actual actors are great,” Gareth said. “But whoever chose those three as leads ought to be fired.”

She buttoned her lips, blushing.

“Oh Cecilia…”

A shaky smile snaked across her mouth. “Well, then it’s good that I’ve got something else in store for you today.”

“Hmm? What is it? A new headpiece?”

“Goodness, no. Besides, you broke the last one!”

Gareth lifted a corrective index finger. “Ah-ah! Only mostly broken. Besides, it looks better without the gems.”

She scoffed, flicking her flowing mane. “No, I have something more… active in mind.”

Active? “What is it? A sword, a bow? Rock-climbing lessons?” He sat up and leaned in. “A tournament held in my honour?”

Cecilia gave him a flat look. “Gareth, this isn’t a gift you can break.”

It was Gareth’s turn to scoff. “I beg to differ! I’d love to oversee an Equestrian battle Royale! Winner can fight me in the ring! If they beat me, then they can fight you.”

“Gareth, I’m not throwing you a tournament OR a Battle Royale.”

“Aww.”

“But I think you’ll like it just the same,” Cecilia murmured, leaning in. The heat of her breath tickled Gareth’s face. A flash of her human form appeared in Cecilia’s eyes. “As it turns out… dream magic is a technique with many applications …”

Author's Notes:

With that, Gareth's story is over, and the Epilogue awaits.

Over 500 years in the future, Princess Twilight Sparkle steps back through the Crystal Mirror with so much more than the Element of Friendship. What were those creatures? And... what if they'd been to Equestria before?

She needed to find out.

Epilogue (Part 1)

"Everyone, I promise… I'll see you all again soon," the Princess said.

A knee-high boot, wrapped in pink and soled in purple, hit solid crystal as the shape-shifted alicorn mare stepped through the mirror.

She transformed mid-step; fingers bound into hooves, legs turned digitigrade, a frilly, purple dress recessing into a short horse's coat, while her long, pink-streaked, purple hair swirled back into a simple mane. Forelegs hitting the ground, Twilight exhaled pollution and perfume, and inhaled the scents of crystals and meadow-breezes. She was back in the Crystal Empire.

The Crystal Mirror flashed again. A silhouette of a dog shifted mid-form into a chubby little baby dragon. Purple scales covered his spherical body, while a line of green trailed up his underbelly and tail. Spade-shaped spikes grew out of his head, all the way down to his tail. Spike, Twilight's assistant, clapped onto the ground, holding his hands high in a 'ta-da'!

A weight lifted from Twilight's mind. Good, she wasn't sure how the mirror would affect Spike with his draconic anti-magic nature.

Cries of their names, spoken in relief, echoed around the room. Their awaiting friends took turns hugging, pulling Spike and Twilight close, and revealing their worries and relief at their survival. The retrieval of the element of Magic felt like an afterthought. Even the very pony who’d sent them, Princess Celestia, seemed more interested in their survival and adventure than the fate of the artefact.

Twilight felt… she wasn't sure what she felt. Everything in the last three days had felt so vivid, so surreal. Three days ago she’d said goodbye to her friends, then hello to them. Three days later, she’d said goodbye again, and then hello again.

Together, they shared their story; of chasing the Element of Magic, defeating Sunset Shimmer's plot to enslave the population of Canterlot High, the humans and their strange culture.

Their words were met with wide eyes and disbelief. The occasional clarification followed, but stunned silence was their true answer. Although they tried to show support as best they could, but they didn't understand.

A pit opened in Twilight's stomach. How could they understand? They didn't see the Otherworld, or their other forms. She wanted to drag them through the mirror and say 'Here! Can't you see them!? They're you, and you're them! You're all my friends!' But the mirror remained closed, and would be so for another 30 moons. Perhaps in time, they would understand, but for now, this burden was her own.

Within thirty minutes her friends departed, casting concerned, compassionate glances in her direction. Spike, child as he was, simply didn't notice, following after.

Twilight gave them a weak smile. She'd be fine. She hoped.

The door closed, but Celestia remained. Her horn glowed golden, lifting the headpiece of the Element of Magic into its protective case.

"Princess Celestia?" Twilight said. "You… you believe me, right?"

The case snapped shut. "I do," she said, face impassive. "You've been through serious trial, Twilight, and I'm willing to listen if you want to talk some more."

Twilight wanted that, a lot. "I just… I find myself stumped by what I found there. Everypony on the other side were, well, mirrors of Equestrians. But, I couldn't find any rhythm or rhyme to it! If it were geographic, then they're just be duplicates of ponies from Canterlot, or of ponies in the Crystal Empire, but I found ponies from all over Equestria!"

"Indeed?" Celestia turned. "What is your theory?"

"That's just it, I don't have one! I need to do so much more study to even formulate a hypothesis! Nothing there made sense!"

Celestia gave a thoughtful hum. "Did you meet a human duplicate of yourself?"

Human-duplicate? What's a 'human'? She shook her head. "No… and I specifically sought her out! At first, it was to avoid her, then it was to get help, but then as I was running out of time I… well, you know the rest. Still, I did find a duplicate of you, princess, so I think the mirror copies anypony regardless of their level of magical power."

A faraway look overtook Celestia's features. "A human Celestia…"

"…What's a human?" Twilight asked.

Celestia tilted her head. "The creatures on the other side. That's what you called them, remember?"

Twilight shook her head. "Uh, forgive me your highness, but I don't know what a human is."

"Hmm." Celestia glanced away, unconcerned. "My apologies, Twilight, perhaps I've mixed up my mythology. There are descriptions of similar creatures in Equestrian history. Maybe they're one and the same?"

"D-do you really think so?"

"Maybe. Maybe not." Celestia gave a vague nod, turning to the door. "Maybe that's something worth researching."

The long train ride home from the Crystal Empire via Canterlot to Ponyville was far from restful. At long last, the front door to Golden Oak Library creaked open. Books lay in carved-out shelves, wrapping wall-to-wall around edges of the hollowed-out tree. Dust hung in the air, its interior frozen in time by the last two weeks of their absence.

Twilight stepped forward, withers weighed down by travel bags and her head weighted down by questions.

"Fowar!" Spike burst in from behind, claws spread high. "It's GOOD to be back home, eh Twilight?"

"Yeah…"

"Tired?" Spike asked, giving her a sympathetic smile.

"I'm surprised you're not," Twilight remarked, levering down a bag onto the centre table.

"Excitement, mostly. I think I'll crash pretty soon."

He wasn't wrong, Twilight thought. If he had to hear him recount that story about how the 'Other-Rarity' hugged him ONE more time…

"Hey Twilight, what did you think about the 'Others'?"

Oh great. "I don't know what I think."

"…Oh. Darn."

Twilight looked back, raising a brow.

"Sorry, it's just, I was kind of hoping you could help me understand them." Spike sat down on a log-stool, scratching his chin. "I mean, you turned into one of the 'Others', but I was just a dog. That won't stop bugging me; I mean, are dogs like dragons over there?"

An answer burned on Twilight's tongue, but she had nothing to back it up with. "I…I don't know, Spike, but that's bugging me, too. I mean, I think it was because the Crystal Mirror wanted to give us useful forms, but that's nothing more than conjecture."

Spike's head bobbed once. Twice. He flinched up. "Woah, nearly nodded off."

"Took you long enough," Twilight said, smiling. "Why don't you head off the bed? I'll work on this mystery."

"Mm-yeah," Spike yawned, toddling off. "See ya' in the morning, Twi'."

She waved him off before turning to the shelves. Alright, Twilight thought, she had the start of a breadcrumb trail, and she was going to get the truth the only way she knew how: dozens upon dozens of hours of sleep-defying study!

Twilight snorted awake in a pool of her own spittle.

Half of the Golden Oak Library's many books now lay scattered across desks and floors, with the formerly-unconscious princess lying upon the centre table.

She checked her notes again and yes, it was as she thought: last night had got her nothing but sleep deprivation. As embarrassing as it was for its librarian to admit, there just weren't enough materials here!

Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, Twilight travelled upstairs. "Spike, you up?"

"Ngh!" The baby dragon filched awake from his balled-up form. "Twilight? Nuurgh… what did you find?"

"Nothing… there just isn't enough to go on."

Spike sat up, cradling his chin. "Hm... have you spoken with the others?"

"No. Why would they know any more?"

"You never know! I mean, Celestia mentioned that 'humans' were mythological creatures, right?"

"Yeah?"

Spike gave a flat look. "And… who do WE know that would know about that?"

A thought snapped through Twilight's mind. "Oh, of course: Fluttershy! Spike, you're a genius!"

"I prefer 'best assistant'," he grunted, crawling out of bed, "But 'Genius' will do. You have fun, Twi', 'Imma go clean up the mess you no doubt made."

"Hey!"

"Twi', you study like Rainbow Dash flies; with sheer brute force."

Fluttershy's house lay in the meadows outside of Ponyville. The pegasus mare had training as a veterinarian, a Cutie Mark pertaining to animals (well, butterflies), a host of pets, and a voracious interest in exotic beasts. If there were anypony in Twilight's close circle of friends who could help, it was her.

"A human?" The beige-yellow mare echoed. "You mean the 'Others'? The creatures from the Crystal Mirror?"

"Yes. Have you heard of them before?"

Fluttershy hummed, stroking her pink mane in thought. "I don't think so… I-I thought they sounded wonderful, though."

Twilight's heart sank. She sighed, allowing her eyes to wander.

In the corner of the room, a humble bookshelf lay packed underneath a cabinet. Books, old and new, sat arranged without pattern. One book sat ajar, half pulled out.

The librarian's instincts drew Twilight's body towards it. Politeness be damned, she needed to rearrange that shelf.

With a simple push, the book slid in, ending with a satisfying thud. Now in line with the others, the rest of the book titles read in a text crawl. Most were books on plant and animal care; modern, crisp, well cleaned and taken care of, but one was not. A particularly ancient tome: 'Ye Guide to Pets and other Animals, complied by Noble Era'.

Noble Era? Twilight knew that name; he was one of her ancestors! Very prolific too, a major force in writing 15th and 16th century Equestrian history. Without thinking, Twilight levered out the tome.

Leathery pages flicked open, showing old, hoof-drawn sketches and dry instructions.

Old memories rushed back. A young Twilight poured over its texts back in her old room in Canterlot, cramming for a written report due next week. 'Ye Guide to Pets' was one of the oldest books on animal ownership in the Equestrian language. After accompanying a historic boom on pet-ownership in Canterlot, this book would cover the shelves of pet owners for centuries to come! Ah, Magic Grade School, it felt so long ago.

"Oh, do you like it?" Fluttershy asked, appearing next to her.

"GAH!" Twilight yelped, flinching away.

For once, Fluttershy didn't cringe at the noise, instead her interest was completely absorbed by the book in Twilight's hooves. "I'm not a very big reader, but that's one of my favourites. I loved reading it ever so much as a foal."

Twilight blinked. "As a foal? Really? But isn't it a little… dry?"

"Oh it is!" Fluttershy nodded. "But it's very practical. I can turn to any page in there, find an animal I need to help, list their symptoms, and then get the steps I need to help them with." She smiled, hovering closer. "Do you want to know a secret?"

Twilight found herself leaning in.

Flutershy blushed. She looked over her shoulder, over her other shoulder, between her legs, before looking back and gesturing Twilight even closer. "The book wasn't written by Noble Era."

Twilight's look went flat. "Fluttershy, that's not a secret, Noble Era states in the foreword that he only edited and published it. Nopony knows who wrote it."

Fluttershy's face went pale. "Oh… oh dear, really? Nopony knows? Then perhaps Applejack was mistaken. She said that she it was 'hand-written' by a pony named 'Gar-eth'."

"Wait… did you just say 'hand-written'?"

"Ah surely did," Applejack said. The orange coated, blonde-maned earth pony pushed open the front door to the Apple farmhouse, beckoning Twilight to follow.

Twilight smiled, joining her. "And you're sure… Gareth had 'hands'? Wait, am I saying that right?"

The interior matched its occupants; rustic, tough, with a humble charm. Applejack swiped off her cowpony hand and threw it up onto the nearby hat rack.

"Yes, and no: it's Gar-eth." Applejack said, turning to look Twilight up and down. "Y'ain't never heard of Gar-eth before, have ya? I tell ya, Granny Smith used to turn our ears all the time about that old monster ancestor o' ours."

"Monster? Ancestor?! Wanna run that by me again?"

Applejack sighed, ushering her into the kitchen, fixing the kettle and sinking into a chair. "Wow, where to start? A'ight, how's this, Gar-eth was a monster from a far-off realm. Y'know the Equestrian Civil War?"

"5th century Solar Reign; of course."

"Well, around that time there was one of the most important Apples who ever lived: Styre. He went from a grunt, to a hero, to a big ol' politician. In that time, he made friends with the Prince-Consort of that period; a monster named 'Gar-eth'."

"Wait, the Prince-Consort?" Twilight spluttered. "There's no Prince-Consort by that name!"

Applejack frowned. "Simmer down, Twi', you came to me wanting to know who Gar-eth was, and Ah'm telling you. Anyway, they were friends. Gar-eth was a private kind of pony, he didn't like speakin' about what he was or were he came from an' Styre was the same way, so they got along swell. They got up to all kinds of crazy stuff, ah'm not sure ah believe half of it. The details about Styre never really gets out of hoof, but Gar-eth? Hoo-wee, the stories Granny Smith could tell you. Apparently Gar-eth couldn't be seen by the naked eye, or he could turn his skin to metal, or even fight a whole bushel of Royal Guards with nothin' but sheer grit an' a bunch of arrows!"

"That… sounds far-fetched," Twilight said, frowning. What's more, none of that matched anything she'd seen of the 'humans' from the other side of the mirror.

Applejack shrugged, leaning back. "It's jus' tall tales, Twi'. Gar-eth was probably a normal pony, like you an' me. Except, y'know, a monster. Not a pony."

"What did he look like?"

"Well…" Applejack rubbed a hoof over her chin. "If you believe the stories, he had hands, an' stood on his hind legs."

"Sounds like a minotaur."

"Maybe. Minotaurs are rare around these parts. He could'a been mistaken for a monster."

"Maybe," Twilight murmured. That sounded close, yet, something nagged at her. "Applejack, does your family have any of Gar-eth's personal effects?"

"Wha-- like clothes or something?" Applejack looked up to the ceiling. She twitched in her seat. "Hold, on a tic… yeah, I think we do."

Rarity goggled down at the white-gold, silk scarf. Despite the age of the garment, It almost vanished into the purple-maned mare's white coat. She ran a manicured forehoof over the stitch, admiring every crevice and surface. With each stroke, her jaw inched closer and closer to the floor of her baroque fashion boutique.

"Do you recognise it?" Twilight asked.

"Recognise it?" Rarity exclaimed. "Twilight, dear! This is a 5th century Le Feuer original! Why, he revolutionised fashion of the time. Scarves, jackets, full body dress, clothes the likes of which Equestria had NEVER seen before! His styles and methods took Canterlot by storm!" She turned, gesturing a shaking forehoof to a troop of models dressed in an array of dazzling ballroom gowns. "Even now, in my very shop, you can see echoes of his noble vision!"

Twilight couldn't see it.

A frustrated growl emanated from the nearby stage. Rainbow Dash, a blue-coated Pegasus with a dazzling, multi-coloured mane, glowered at them, half-stuffed into a cross-hacked Wonderbolts costume. "Yeah, yeah, awesome. Now if you're done distracting Rarity, Twilight, we still need to get this costume right for this year's Nightmare Night."

Twilight blanched, flashing an apologetic grin.

With reverence due to a most holy artefact, Rarity walked over to a nearby padded box and folded the scarf over and over inside. "My dear, tell Applejack it would be my utmost pleasure to restore this garment for her." She sniffed, turning back. "Now forgive me, but what brings you here?"

"Well, uh. I'm in the middle of some research… about the 'Others'."

Rarity and Rainbow Dash shared a worried expression. The fashionista forced a cheerful expression. "Uh, w-what about them?"

Twilight narrowed her eyes. "Well, for starters, I think they're actually called 'humans' and every human I saw wore clothes. When I travelled through, the portal made me clothes for me to wear. Ergo, clothes are important to humans." She pointed to the padded box. "And I think that scarf used to be worn by a human."

Rarity twitched. "A… human wore that?" She gave a thoughtful pout. "I'm… well, I-I'm not entirely sure what to say, dear!"

"Tell me about Le Feuer, Rarity. You said he a great fashion designer?"

"Well, YES, dear!" The gears began to grind in Rarity's head. "Wait, you don't think that he got inspiration from 'human' clothes?"

Twilight wanted to nod. She wanted to shake her head. She couldn't do either: she had no evidence. "I… I don't know. Yet. I need to find out more."

Rainbow Dash cleared her throat, ending in a nervous laugh. "You, uh, think humans wore armour? Y'know, because of all the armour forging techniques and small-group tactics that were invented in the 5th century?"

Twilight drew on her vast intellectual knowledge of historical figures. Thousands of books dedicated to memory. Passages and passages flowed through her mind. She got nothing. "Uh…"

Disbelief replaced Rainbow Dash's nerves. "For real, Twilight?! Purple Dart's memoirs, c'mon! Read the classics!"

Wow, okay. Twilight couldn't say she had expected that. True as that may be, she still didn't have enough evidence to prove if 'Gar-eth' was a human, or just a regular monster who happened to be foreign—

Wood slapped against wood. A shrieking pink blur exploded through the front doors of the boutique.

"GAH!" Twilight flinched, turning her horn.

"EVERYPONY!" The pink blur screamed, ending in a hoof-burning screech. Her form sharpened into a thin, pink Earth pony with the distinctive bouncing mane. Pinkie Pie held aloft an ancient scroll, basking in a beaming yellow light of mysterious origins. "I HAVE DISCOVERED THE TRUTH!"

Feeling began to return to Twilight's folded, aching ears. "Pinkie… volume control."

Pinkie blinked. "Oh, sorry!" She hissed loudly. "Here, look at this! It's a family history of the Apple family, and there's a Pie on it! I'm related to Applejack. Yaaaaaaaay!"

"Woah, really?" Twilight asked. Pinkie had been trying to confirm that for ages.

"Yeah really!" Pinkie echoed. She pulled the scroll open. A cascade of names and accompanying portraits listed on it. Leaning over, she pointed to a section near the bottom. "See this? Butter Pie and Styre, with Apple Pie underneath! See the proof? Related! Yeeeeeeeee~"

Twilight frowned. "Uh, Pinkie Pie, I'm happy for you, but I don't think that's—"

A pink hoof shoved into Twilight's mouth. "No, no, this is how this works. I'm related, end of story." She pointed back to the scroll. "See?" Another name connected from Styre's generation. A godfather with a flat face and blanked out portrait.

Twilight's mind filled in the blank with the faces of smiling high schoolers. That portrait looked human, and the name was—

--Pinkie yanked the scroll away. "'Styre' plus 'Butter Pie' equals baby 'Apple Pie'. Apple-Pinkie-Pie confirmed!!! I just HAD to tell you guys before I went to Apple Acres, bye~!" She turned and skipped out the doors.

Twilight's heart lunged into her throat. "Wait Pinkie, stop, STOP! I need to see something on the--!"

Skipping in backwards, Pinkie Pie returned. In one smooth motion, she turned, opened the scroll, and pointed down to the blanked out portrait at the bottom of the list. "Here's the name you're looking for. The godfather/father-in-law, to Apple Pie: Prince-Consort Grey Spear, or 'Gar-eth'."

The truth burnt in Twilight's throat. Or maybe it was dehydration. No, doesn't matter, she thought, that blanked-out portrait looked close enough to be human! She—wait… "Hang on, Pinkie. How did you know that was the name I was looking for?"

"Pinkie Sense told me."

Of course it did, Twilight grumbled. Irrational as it was, she was beginning to envy that ability.

"And that's not all it told me." Pinkie trotted closer, inches away. Any amusement vanished from her face, replaced by stone-cold severity. "Be careful of how closely you look, Twilight. You might not like what you discover."

A chill ran up Twilight's spine.

Letting out a delightful snort, Pinkie pulled back, "--Because your ancestor could be a REAAAAL jerk! Just saying!" She pointed to a portrait one line below Butter Pie and Styre's, belonging to a gleeful looking pony called 'Chucky Larms'. Tapping her temple, and sounding out 'CA-RAY-ZEE'.

Hrm. Twilight had everything that she could probably get from her friends. Time to more research. Next stop: Canterlot.

A day-long train ride later, and Twilight stood in the State Library of Equestria. Ancient tomes listing arcane theses sat across the aisle from last year's boilerplate romance and action novels.

Heroically ignoring the pulp novel's siren calls, she made a beeline to the oldest sections of the library. Her first point of call would be biology. If there was anywhere that listed humans, they'd be in there.

They weren't in there.

Twilight groaned, massaging the bags under her eyes. Okay, that was a wash, perhaps she'd find something in the historical records of the 5th century Celestial Rule? Surely they'd hold something!

They didn't.

The twitching in Twilight's eye grew stronger. Fine, Twilight thought, you wanna play hardball, 'Gar-eth'? Well, you picked the wrong mare! It was time for her to drag out the Royal Marriage Ledgers and go straight to the source!

Pages upon pages filled with the names, lives and details of every Prince-Consort known. The biographies grew more and more detailed the closer they came to the present day. She'd flicked over the first page of the 4th century consort, the Earth pony: Doctor 'Ride-on Llull'.

Twilight found herself reading his entry anyway, even now, when she was so close. Taking ten minutes, she absorbed the life of this philosopher, logician, and writer. Did you know he penned the first piece of romance literature ever written in Equestria? And that he did it to woo Princess Celestia? Or that he helped formalise early-modern logical thought? He wasn't the only amazing pony here, either. All the Prince-Consorts led such interesting lives. She couldn't wait to turn the last page and…

That's it! His name appeared on top of the next biography: Grey Spear!

A rush pumped through Twilight's veins. This was it. She did it! Now she'd have everything she needed! Of course, as with any study session, let's see how many pages this entry went on for. She flicked the page over.

'Mr. Hammer Chink'

The voice of triumph went silent in Twilight's head. She goggled at the page. That couldn't be right. She flicked forward.

'Moving out of his blacksmithing apprenticeship, Hammer Chink began on his first task; the recreation of the aquifers of Canterlot. This would help influence his life's work of revolutionising and formalisation of the Equestrian hygiene standards and—' this went on for another twenty pages.

"No…" Twilight flicked a few pages back.

'Ride-on's health deteriorated in his old age. Unable to stand, he nevertheless refused to accept his frailty and worked from his bedside. In this time he laid the seeds for some of Equestria's greatest mathematical—'

"No, no!" She flicked one page forward.

Grey Spear's page stared back with nought but four scant paragraphs.

"NO!" Twilight clapped hoof onto the table. He’d done it again! He'd hidden himself from—

"SHH!" A librarian hissed from down the aisle.

Twilight cringed. Okay… so she was being a little loud, but could anyone blame her? This 'Gar-eth' had so little information attributed that she needed to dive into official records to prove his mere existence! Okay, take a breath Twilight, get a grip. Read what you have:

'Grey Spear was the prince-consort of the 6th Celestial era. Little verifiable information survives of his appearance, origin, or even species. He appeared weeks before the beginning of the Equestrian Civil War and, according to legend, was key to helping Celestia re-establish her sovereignty.

'The biology of Grey Spear's species is the source of much conjecture. The best source of information is comes from medical scripts of the era. According to the script, penned by Doctor Il Legittima Legata, Grey Spear appeared 'magickally deceased' (sic) and being 'difficult to perceive'. Further conjecture notes that Grey Spear may have been a 'non-magickal construct', found by Celestia in her self-exile. His true form appeared to be 'Taur of some subspecies, with fleshy hands and feet. However, Legata noted that over time Grey Spear might be 'filled' by magic, becoming easier to see, losing his 'non-magickal' traits.

'There is evidence that Grey Spear came from a tool-using species. A diary from a Royal Guard noted him to be 'gifted with spear and bow'. The same diary states that Grey Spear drilled the Guard of the time, making plans to establish the 'Rangers'. (An Earth-pony-centric unit with the same name still exists today.)

'Grey Spear continued to reign by Celestia's side until his death thirty years later. In his passing he left behind no blood descendants, relics, or scripts.'

Twilight exhaled, leaning back in her seat. Everything listed sounded so close to a human, but those non-magic traits… she didn't see anything like that in the human world. Then again, the human world didn't even HAVE magic! Argh, this was driving her mad!

Sunset Shimmer’s demonic form cackled overhead. Batwings propelled her through the skies, hailing magic upon the innocent high schoolers below. The Element of Friendship burned in her hair, a pale blue eye staring upon destruction the likes of which this world had never seen.

Twilight twitched upright. She pulled back the tome and read over the passage again. 'Filled by magic', that's what the tome said. Given Canterlot High's proximity to the portal, magic could have been flowing through and 'filling' the surroundings for a very long time. Wait… wouldn't that be like magical radiation? Was that harmful to humans? It didn't seem so, Grey Spear survived for a good period of time while in Equestria. She should check the mirror after she was done here, Twilight resolved to herself. Now she had even MORE reason to confirm if Grey Spear was human or not! She checked back over for the doctor's name.

'Doctor Il Legittima Legata'.

Hmm. It sounded familiar. Time for more digging. Twilight took a trip down to the registrar for any works under the Doctor's name.

The results appeared. Doctor Il Legittima Legata, 5th and 6th century Solar Reign, notable works include; 'Magical Connections', 'On Ye Nature of Cutie Marks', and 'Ye Meta-Magics of Love, Romance, and Friendship'.

The hamster wheel cog in Twilight's brain cracked, dropping her jaw. This was THE Doctor Legata, mother of love magic! She discovered that a unicorn’s magic was inexorably affected by the nature of their Cutie Marks. First and foremost, for a pony to master love magic would take more than just study and skill, but a natural inclination to use it safely!

According to the registrar, all of Doctor Legata's works were held up in the Star Swirl wing of the Canterlot Library.

That would be Twilight's next stop. She could only hope there would be more information on Gar-eth there.

Twilight never felt welcome inside the spiral tower of Star Swirl the Bearded. It could be the imposing gothic architecture, or the wealth of forbidden magical knowledge inside, maybe it was even the constant Royal Guard presence keeping watch. Or maybe that it was because of the fact that it had been the historic domain of royalty.

The pinions of Twilight's purple wings dug into the back of her neck. She shuffled them back. Even months later, she hadn't got used to the reminder of her new station as an Alicorn Princess. Well, Princess or no, she hadn't been here often enough to know where she was going. She stopped a Royal Guards for some directions.

"Oh thank Celestia, you're here!" The Royal Guard said.

"Uh, what?"

He gestured towards the central staircase. "Please your Majesty, head directly to the upper floors. Princess Mi Amore Cadenza has been waiting for hours!"

The guard lead her to a pair of heavy iron doors, studded with some serious rune protections. He waved a horn over the top, unlatching a series of springs, locks and mystical runes. With a magnanimous smile and a polite wave, he ushered Twilight inside.

Twilight looked about with wide eyes, holding the awe back in her throat.

The upper levels of Star Swirl’s study were always a serious affair. Nopony came here lightly. You were in, then you were out. The dangers contained within were nothing to be underestimated. Each shelf contained a lock, each section was littered with alarms, the windows shined, the rats paid, the dust mites dusted, and the floors contained enough spit and polish to run a spit 'n’ polish shop out of business. Well, under normal operating conditions it did. Somepony seemed to have missed the memo because there was a small mountain of scrolls laying haphazardly atop the centre table.

"Uh, hello?"

"Twilight!" Cadence's voice came from within the landslide of scrolls. A pink horn poked out from within, belonging to a familiar pink alicorn. Her pink and white streaked mane tied back to a bun; studious, yet royal, Princess Mi Amore Cadenza, Princess of the Crystal Empire, wore a relieved smile on her face.

"Uh, hey Cadence. You called for me?"

"Sorry about all this," She said, stepping over the pile. "I was in the middle of this study, and I thought, who better to get help from than little Twilie? To be honest, I was worried about that mail-mare getting to you at all."

Twilight frowned. "Uh, what mail-mare?"

The colour drained from Cadence's face. "Don't tell me…"

Twilight rubbed her shoulder. "Sorry, Cadence… I was here for another reason."

"Great…" Cadence moaned, shoulders sagging as she cast a forlorn gaze to the scrolls behind her. "I'm doomed."

"W-well, I guess it can wait? What did you need help with?"

Cadance's eyes perked up. Blue light swirled around her horn, tugging over a scroll. With a flick, the leathery scroll unfurled, depicting a diagram of the Crystal Mirror. "Recognise this?"

"Of course, that's the Crystal Mirror. Spike and I went through it a few days ago."

"Yep!" Cadance rolled it up with another flick. "Princess Luna and I have been burning the midnight-- err, 'mid-day' oil trying to find out more about the Mirrors. You see, Celestia thinks they're a magical dead-end, but Luna and I think we can't afford to be ignorant about them. I mean, what happened if something came through one of them?"

"Ah-ha-ha… yeah, crazy," Twilight murmured. She cleared her throat. "I'm actually on the trail of something like that."

"Really?" Cadence craned her swan-like neck in. "What've you found?"

The flash of hope in Cadance's eyes sent Twilight cringing. "Well, uh, it's nothing concrete, but I think that a pony in the past may have been a human; a creature from beyond the mirror."

"Oh. I think Luna is going to freak—"

"Could be true! Could. I don't know yet!"

Cadence pondered for a moment. "Wait, are we talking about one of the creatures you described from 'Canterlot High'?"

"Yes, have you heard of them?"

Cogs turned behind Cadence's eyes. "Maaaybe… What else do you have?"

"That Doctor Legata did a physical on him, I was hoping to see that scroll."

Cadence nodded once. "I think I know the one, follow me!"

The crystalline doors to the Crystal Heart wing lay closed in the distance, opening at her approach.

Even accompanied by Cadence, Twilight felt reluctant to go inside. The Crystal Heart wing was off-limits to the general public for good reason. Flagrant use of love magic could result in such wonderful consequences as love potions that tore apart kingdoms, or desire spells that could drive a small village into riotous lust over a stuffed toy…

Celestia still teased her about that.

Cadence's tall form brushed past. "C'mon Twilie, this way," she said, heading straight to the 5th century shelves.

Cobwebs shook from Twilight's mind. She turned, following.

"Do we have a name, Twilie?"

"Look for a scroll called 'Grey Spear' or 'Gar-eth'."

"Cool," Cadence said, running a forehoof over the shelving. She tapped in the middle of a mound of scrolls. Extracting it with a tug of magic, she trotted to a nearby table. The leathery parchment unfurled with a satisfying flumping noise, ending at around 3 feet. Cadence gave a short gasp. "Oh wow."

Twilight joined her, looking down. "What is—"

Complex diagrams and statistics spread out before her. Old Equestrian combined with some truly woeful hoof-writing spiralled into a miasma of hellish chicken scratches and gobbildy-gook. Little was legible, and those pieces that were seemed to conspire to do such tortuous things to the Equestrian language that Twilight found to be both grammatically and ethically wrong. Half of it looked to be in doctor's code, or slang, of the time. Perhaps even encrypted.

"I can't read this," Twilight admitted.

"I needed to read through her biopsies as part of my thesis on Love Magics," Cadence sighed, pulling it over. "I STILL don't know half the things she's on about."

Minutes went by. Cadance mumbled to herself, mouthing the words.

Twilight allowed her eyes to drift out of focus, sliding over the page. She twitched up, nudging Cadence. "What does it say?"

Cadence pursed her lips. "Something interesting." She tugged the page over, pointing to a primitive sketch of a humanoid figure. "Is this familiar?"

Air stole away from Twilight's lungs. She stared, brushing a forehoof over the page.

The page crinkled, folding away. "Thought so," Cadence said. "The biopsy notes that the 'subject', 'Gar-eth', had bone growths around his left arm, possibly from physical stress, along with extreme stress levels, battlefield trauma, slight dehydration, an ill temper, a poor sense of humour, and a full bladder." She peered at the page. "He was also married to Celestia."

Twilight froze up. Oh, right, she forgot to mention that…

Silence hung in the air. Cadence put the page down, took off her glasses, rubbed her eyes, put her glasses back on, and looked again. She nodded to herself, humming louder than was considered polite, before turning to Twilight with a baffled expression. "How did I miss that before?"

Twilight spared Cadence a sympathetic look. "Yeah… I just came from the Archives. I felt the same way."

"I… I just—" Bridging her forehooves, Cadence sucked in a sigh. "I mean, wow. Celestia married an 'Oth'— a human? I mean, why didn't she tell us? When I asked her about the other side, all she told me was that—" Cadence's words died in her throat. She turned to Twilight with a strange look on her face.

"Uh, Cadance? W-what did Celestia say?"

Cadance bit her lip. "Twilie… can I cast the Red-string spell on you?"

Twilight took a step back. Casting the Red-string spell was… "Isn't that a little… private?"

"I know, Twilie. It's okay if you're not cool with it."

After a moment of thinking, Twilight allowed herself to nod. "Okay… I guess I was a little surprised to hear it, but I guess if there's anypony in the world who I trust to cast it… it's you."

A heartwarming smile appeared on Cadance's face. Her horn glowed blue, drifting over to Twilight's cutie mark. "Okay, this won't hurt a bit…"

Twilight braced herself anyway.

Magic intertwined with Twilight's deepest connections, a rainbow of strings sprang out, drifting off into all directions of the room. A tight corded band of chromatic lights strung out to the west, to Ponyvile, each one symbolising the other Elements of Harmony. Another chromatic chord stretched towards Cadence's chest while several smaller strings extended out in all directions.

Twilight stared up, heart pounding in her chest. She hadn't had a Red-string reading since she was a filly. Back then it was only a hooffull of cords, now… there were more than she could count.

"Wow," Cadence breathed.

"Yeah," Twilight agreed.

Pink hooves plucked through the strings, digging through ones leading to the Crystal Empire. Another set of smaller chromatic bands led that way, the same number that led to Ponyville. "Your heart is confused," Cadence said. "It sees your friends on the other side as similar, but recognises that they're different."

The word plucked at Twilight's heart. "Yeah…"

Gently pulling them apart, Cadence peeled the chromatic bands aside… revealing a pair of red strings underneath.

Red string… a RED string. A peeling sensation pulled at Twilight's hammering heart.

Cadence looked up, smiling. "Does the name 'Flash Sentry' mean anything to you?"

Memories of a blue-haired human flashed in Twilight's mind. From his goofy smile, to the thunder-crossed shield design on his shirt. His warm hands clutching hers, and the smell of his soft leather jacket. Then, when she returned, she saw a stallion that she swore looked so much like him. That must have been the other string. Twilight wasn't sure if what she felt was love, but the presence of the Red-string confirmed it. "I… y-yes."

Nodding, Cadance pulled back, sending another pulse of magic towards Twilight. Whipping chromatic strings coiled back into Twilight's cutie mark. The last cord recoiled with a snap, sending Twilight into a rump-whipped flinch.

"Wow, hey!" she mumbled, rubbing her hiney.

"I think I understood what Celestia meant now," Cadence said with a mysterious smile.

"Understood… how exactly? Because I'm still pretty confused," Twilight grumbled.

A gentle forehoof linked around Twilight's neck, pulling her into Cadence's side. "You'll get it soon. In the meantime, I think understand what Celestia was doing a bit better."

"Well… I don't," Twilight said, unwinding herself, "And I'm going to find out."

Cadence nodded giving Twilight a quick pat. "Okay… go speak with Luna, she's down in the Royal Tombs. I'm sure she can help."

Epilogue (Part 2)

"State your business," a pair of Royal Tomb Guards barked, defending a set of heavy iron doors.

"I'm here to speak with Princess Luna," Twilight replied.

The guards shared a glance. "Very well," one said, "But understand that these are the Royal Tombs. Please be respectful, Princess Twilight."

"I understand," Twilight said.

Turning with mechanical grace, the Guards pulled the two iron doors open. The Royal Tombs lay on the other side. Stained glass mirrors lined the walls, spreading out into era-sorted halls. On the right lay the Solar wing, on the left, the Lunar wing.

Awe filled Twilight's throat. She'd never been here before; she'd never had a reason. Okay, Twilight thought, Princess Luna should be around here somewhere.

Twilight's cantering hooves echoed through the halls. Eras of time passed by on either side. At first the wings were both bright, containing a mirror apiece. Come the 1st century Solar reign, the Lunar wings fell into darkness. The 5th century hall approached.

The 5th century hall… Twilight idly wondered if Gar-eth had a mirror dedicated to himself. She turned right.

A dark mare stood in the middle of the hall, facing away from Twilight. Princess Luna stared up at a dull brown mirror with a muted expression.

Guh! Twilight backpedalled around the corner, cringing low.

A hoof clopped in her direction. Luna's voice came, low and gentle, "Thou needst not fear, Twilight."

A squeak shot out of Twilight's mouth. She peeked around the corner.

Instead of a scowl, Luna offered Twilight a smile. "What dost thou seek in this place?"

"O-oh, um." Twilight scrawled around the corner, trying to return the grin. "I-I'm just looking for… uh-- H-how are you today?"

Luna tilted her head, turning to the stained glass mirror. "After thy expedition through the Crystal Mirror, Cadence and I found ourselves curious as well… curiosity led me to this place, filled with 'short-range mirrors'." She shot a bitter glance over to the darkened Lunar halls. "And a reminder of how much time hath passed."

"Oh… right. You were on the moon all this time, and—"

"It needn't be said, Twilight." Luna gestured upwards. "Do you also come to ponder this strange mirror?"

Huh?

Unlike the other Mirrors, which showed triumph or a message of hope, Grey Spear's was far more humble, muted. A shaded figure sat away from the view, tending to animals under a snowy gazebo. The details were muddy and poor, making it impossible to tell whether the figure depicted was human or equine. What's more, there was no tell-tale shimmer of magic, indicating this mirror was crafted from pure, unenhanced glass. Just below the mirror itself, written on a brass plate was written:

"Prince Grey Spear," Twilight whispered.

"Indeed," Luna intoned. "There is little information pertaining to his existence. His mirror is unenhanced, leading nowhere. There are no other mirrors like this in the Royal Tomb."

Twilight narrowed her eyes. He did it again.

"There's more," Luna continued. "I discovered this by searching through Star Swirl’s journals on Mirrors – a necessary precaution in case thou found thyself trapped on the other side – he built a prototype, short-range mirror. Indeed, the original site was built into what used to be the Apple family's manor."

"Used to be?"

"Yes. Although, thy may know it by its current name of 'Horizon Manor'."

Horizon Manor? Wait a minute, "B-but that's--"

"--Thy family home. Indeed." Luna gave a slow nod. "My sister's machinations run deep, Twilight. She planned for my arrival long ago, and even now, I can catch only mere glimpses at her grand strategy."

"She… planned all this?"

"She did," Luna insisted, "But I believe she meant for only good to happen. And it did. Were it not for her skills, thou would be alone, and I would be mad. Afford her the benefit of the doubt."

Twilight nodded, slowly. "I… understand. Thank you, Princess Luna, but I must beg my leave, there's someplace I have to be."

"Granted, fellow princess. I hope thous findest the answers thou seek."

The journey to find proof of a human brought Twilight back to her childhood home. Her parents were confused, but she couldn't tell them the truth. No today. Not yet.

The trail ended in a hidden section of wall in the depths of the Horizon Manor. On the other side, a red, shard-filled mirror dared her to try.

She did.

Twilight stepped out, bathed in red light. Ancient dust kicked up with a trot of her hoof and pitch blackness yawed around her.

The white-hot determination in Twilight's chest streamed into her horn, burning a hole in the dark.

Decayed ruins sagged into the earth. Debris littered the grounds, rusted armour, fossilized wood and cloth. Aiming the light up revealed the blasted, skeletal face of an ancient mausoleum, covered with scours of battle magic, littering its surface in white, yellow and black marks.

A fierce, magic-filled battle must have occurred here, long ago, Twilight realised. She bit her lip and continued.

Entering through the cracked stone doors of the mausoleum revealed that the rest of the building had just… fallen into the darkness below. The floor continued for a few metres before ending into cavernous depths. Shining a light into the dark showed the bones of the mausoleum body laying at the bottom of a 100-yard deep pit. Jagged stone welcomed Twilight into its embrace…

Twilight sucked in a gasp, pulling away from edge. O-o-okay, not that way, she thought; better look for another way down.

Pricks of golden light glowed in the distance, standing atop white stone pylons. Shining a light on them revealed a near-identical appearance, as if a mage crafted stone from the living rock and burnt them into the ground.

She'd seen those burns a thousand times before; whenever Celestia's private tutoring turned to more physical studies. Did Celestia make these? She squinted in the dark, focusing light.

A nearby pylon stood atop a gutted stone room. Correction; it pierced through on an angle and continued into the wall. Not a pylon at all, but a supporting structure. Comparing the weathering of the stones, the pylons looked to be a more recent addition.

Intrigued, Twilight approached, leaning down to try to catch a glimpse of the contents.

Little else other than rubble and rock remained. Scraps of fabric lay nestled next to a shattered, wooden box.

The shape sent Twilight's mind running, it looked familiar, like a coffin— Adrenaline cracked through Twilight's body. She whipped her horn about.

Stone rooms, stone rooms, and more. A pylon for each. All were gutted. All moved. Exhumed.

"The old Royal Tombs…"

An unmarked white path spiraled down the length of the cavern, aligning with the entrance to the empty rooms. Twilight's hooves clopped with each step, echoing off the walls. Oppressive silence filled the space between.

Fear poisoned her lungs. Every step got harder. She knew she was not meant to be here. Did she truly have to know? No, calm down, Twilight, just focus on some magic. Gathering magic into her horn, she aimed it into the centre of the room and released.

A flare spiralled off into the sky, bathing the cavern with light. The pylons' glows washed out, every shadow died, and the raw crystal walls glimmered with a false sun. From the roof to the ceiling, every crevice revealed, highlighting the bones of the mausoleum.

The burning light chased away the fear. Twilight breathed in deep. That's much better, she thought, looking over the side. Perhaps she might have some idea where she was doing now?

Another room stood apart from the fallen ruins. Unlike the others, it had no pylon pinning it to the wall, rather it was built from the same white stone as the pylons and the path.

Apprehension coiled in Twilight's gut. She picked up the pace.

The path ended a few yards away from the front of the room. A stained glass mirror lay embedded into the wall, but something looked… wrong. Most of the mirror, the top half, glowed with raw magic, as if somepony had smashed the top of the glass with a hammer. The bottom half told a different story. Two legs - human legs - stood atop a rock. A pair of five-fingered hands drew a Crystal Empire Ice bow.

The hammering of her heart filled Twilight's mind. A human. She was right. Yet, did that even matter anymore? She… she wanted to know more, needed to know. Twilight stepped forward, brushing a forehoof within.

The raw magic brightened to a blinding flash. The stagnant air shifted across her coat. Twilight's gut lurched while the contact teleportation spell tore her off her feet.

Her hooves hit the carpeted ground. The white light fated, the air grew slow.

Shivers crawled through Twilight's muscles. She opened her eyes.

No white-stone crypt, but a brown-wooded cabin surrounded her. Wooden chairs and desks arrayed around a set table, luxurious furs lined the floors, massaging and warming Twilight's hooves. Metal gleamed from an armoury to her right; spears, daggers, and unstrung bows lay in a weapons rack, all leading to a suit of humanoid armour. To her left, maps lined the wall, annotated with notes and lines. Sketched pictures pinned themselves to specific points, illustrating a real-life view of a mountain, animal, or campfire. More sketches littered a nearby desk, disordered and unkempt.

An indescribable feeling of… welcome urged Twilight in. She took one look at the armoury and decided to look at the maps first.

The largest map (or rather, collection of the maps) sketched out the pass to the northern Crystal Empire. Those hatches and lines were familiar to Twilight, old friends even, they had spent many a late night study session together on her desk. A pinned article included a sentence proclaiming 'defeat of the WARDOG OF THE NORTH by the legendary ICEFANG!' it led to another sketch; standing atop an icy ridge, a human figure, holding a spear in Royal Guard style, faced off against a Diamond Dog, clutching a spear of his own. Both had blonde hair, both wore a suit of armour just like the one—

Twilight turned.

A white tabard covered the chain shirt, printed with a dog's paw.

Shock dried Twilight's throat. She turned back to the table with the sketches.

A castle with two massive towers, pulling a draw-gate between them. Dogs stared with dull eyes. In another, it wrestled with a laughing human.

The human, Gar-eth, and Grey Spear. They were all one in the same. These trinkets all belonged to him, but what did this mean? She turned. W-what did this me—?

Dull pain smacked Twilight's hind leg. A chair shrieked across the floor, ending with a crack on a heavy stone sarcophagus.

A-a sarcophagus?

The stone coffin did not vanish with a blink. It remained, ready to give the final answer to her question.

Sweat wetted Twilight's coat and brow. This… this was it. The final confirmation. She licked her lips, lit her horn with a magehand spell, and walked over.

Magic humming filled the air. The sarcophagus waited.

Twilight could feel the sarcophagus below, one pull and she'd have her answer. Just one little pull, one little pull…

The cabin welcomed her, embraced her, it hid nothing… nothing but this.

Her horn ached. Her heart hammered. She just…

A spark shot out of her horn.

Twilight heaved a sigh, magic slipping from her grip. She couldn't, she just couldn't. She could not disturb his rest. "You win, Gar-eth, whoever you are," Twilight admitted, resting a forehoof on the grave. "Rest well… okay?"

Magic shimmered from behind. The mirror's surface distorted, a bright white light appearing in its place, coalescing into the form of an alicorn. Princess Celestia, radiant, stood before it.

Horror gripped Twilight's heart. Her stunned expression raked the room.

The hooves lay imprinted across the furs. A knocked over chair lay by the side of the sarcophagus. Pictures flittered down from the map wall.

Twilight did that. She did all of it. "P-Princess, I-I…"

Celestia stepped forward, no expression on her regal face. She stopped by the chair, righting it with a flick of her horn, continuing onto the stone coffin. Her royal hoof brushed across it, wearing a saddened expression. She turned. "I suppose this was bound to happen eventually."

"W-what?"

"That he'd be found," Celestia said. "Try as hard as he might, Gareth could never hide himself forever. Certainly not from a pony with a desire for knowledge like you."

Twilight wasn't sure how to feel about that. Discovering Gar-eth's secret felt as if she broke something far worse than a chair. This felt like a secret not meant to be discovered, one meant to stay hidden. Even still… the need to know overrode her better senses. "Princess… who was he?"

Introspection took hold over Celestia. "That… is a hard question," she admitted. "Gareth was a good man. He held much pain in his heart, and he held that pain close to avoid hurting others. In time, he showed me some of that pain."

"Oh." That… wasn't the answer she was looking for.

Celestia gave a quirked smile. "You want to know more, don't you?"

"YES!" Twilight cringed at the desperation in her own voice. "U-uh… y-yes. Yes, please."

"Alright, but first--" Golden light wrapped around Celestia's horn. Bright, stinging lights sprinkled around her body.

Twilight squeezed her eyes shut, and by the time she opened them...

Principal Celestia – no – Princess Celestia stood anew, in her human form. A flowing white dress, radiant white skin, golden finery on her head, and a gentle smile. She sighed, rubbing her fingers together, as if fitting on an old, comfortable glove.

"You look beautiful," Twilight admitted.

Celestia smiled, gesturing to a chair. "Please, sit down. Let us talk."

Twilight wanted to scramble into it… but found herself stopping. Perhaps she ought to do the same. She remembered the Crystal Mirror changing her, if she could copy that technique then… She focused magic inwards.

Magic turned her body, stretching, and moulding. Her hind legs grew long, her forehooves softened and split. Her purple coat wove into bright clothes, identical to the short-skirted, booted attire at Canterlot High.

Standing up, Twilight gave herself a once over. Boots, skirt, five fingers, no muzzle. Yep, success!

A stunned expression covered Celestia's face.

Twilight savoured the rare occasion, taking her seat with a twirl.

"Well done, Twilight. I see you've mastered transformative magics."

"I-it's easy when you know how. The Crystal Mirror did all the heavy lifting," Twilight shifted forward. "Now, tell me about Gar-eth."

"'Gareth', Twilight. I'm sure you've already inferred much from what you can see around you. He fought. He explored. He--"

"--raised animals?"

"He did! Gareth was a man of the wilds, never feeling at home inside Canterlot's walls. His real passion was to be out there, living with the beasts." Her face softened. "I loved that about him. He never feared his primal side, at least, not to himself. He only feared that it would drive others away."

"Yeah, I think I'm starting to get that last part," Twilight said. "I'm surprised that somepony so 'primal' wrote so much. Fluttershy's got an old copy of his compilation; a first edition, I think."

Celestia chuckled. "He never knew how to feel about the popularity. He raged about it at first, actually. I thought he was going to beat Noble Era when he discovered that he had been copying all his notes. However, he came around to the idea of the book being published under Noble Era's name; for the good of Equestria."

Twilight scowled. "Wow, I can understand being angry, but beating him?"

"As I said, he was a primal man," Celestia gestured to the map handing over Twilight's shoulder. "Gareth understood that, and strove to make himself useful. He wrote that map while journeying with friends."

Twilight perked up. "You mean the Rangers?"

Celestia turning to her, confusion turning to a wry smile. "Why… yes. He was training them in wilderness survival in snowy conditions. However, a great danger cut his exercises short."

"The Diamond Dogs…" Twilight turned to squint at the picture on the wall. The dog and the human, facing each other off. "What happened there?"

Amusement evaporated from Celestia's face, replaced by dignified sorrow. "He met another side of himself in the north. A Diamond Dog, by the name of 'Savage Jaw'. He was part of an army that sought to conquer and enslave the newly formed northern Equestrian settlements. Knowing they stood no chance against an alicorn, they looked to uncover an ancient power that once enslaved the Crystal Empire."

Darkness. A cackling laughter roared in Twilight's mind. Chills froze her bones with fear. "You don't mean…"

"Sombra," Celestia answered. "Savage Jaw assisted his master in attaining the key to King Sombra's powers; the 'Dark Crystal', Sombra's horn. Gareth stopped him. They fought for hours, but in the end, Gareth won. Yet, in victory, Savage Jaw took something from him. He never told me what. After that, Gareth never left Equestria again."

Those dark shadows and growls still haunted Twilight's nightmares. Yes, she could imagine a human feeling the same way. "And then?"

"He died."

"…Oh."

Celestia's lips twitched, her face growing conflicted. "He… he grew old, Twilight. Humans live their time, and then it's over, just like ponies. I wish it were not so, but it is."

Twilight maintained her poker face. Celestia had her reasons for the non-answer, but that didn't quell the storm of a thousand questions in Twilight's mind. One rose from the churning sea. "Then do you know who smashed the mirror?"

"Would you like to know?" Celestia asked, leaning forward. "Or… would you like to see?"

Twilight found herself leaning forward in kind. "To see."

Celestia's brow smoothed over. She leaned back, summoning golden light to glow around her index finger. "Then, relax…"

Canterlot's old halls echoed Celestia's golden-shod hooves. It was late. She was tired, and her husband was doddering around somewhere at this ungodly hour.

He wasn't checking after the animals. The courtyard was empty, nor was he training the guards as he claimed he wouldn't. The kitchen boasted no bearded humans sneaking breads into their maws, nor were armourers being harangued by an angry knight claiming that their armours were too brittle. 'Pierced at 30 yards by bow shot? Pathetic!'

No, Celestia thought, there was only one place left to look. She turned towards Noble Era's old study. If he wasn't here it would be time to form a search party. Or get Lord Styre.

Giggles from down the hall mixed in with her hoof falls. The gentle tone of Gareth's story-telling voice thrummed over the top; a pleasant background timbre.
Aha. Celestia smiled to herself. She picked up the pace, nudging the door to open.

Unoiled hinges groaned open. Taken over by Gareth, Noble Era's old study remained every bit as messy and ill-kept as when Gareth had first claimed it. Collections from his travels replaced mystical curios, scrolls on magical theory turned into biology sketches while the giant piano had changed into a lounge room. A collection of foals, all undoubtedly far up past their bedtime, sat arrayed upon the largest sofa, sitting opposite of their storyteller; Gareth.

Gareth was still wore last night's 50th jubilee outfit: his dark slacks, interlaced with silver, were matched with a similarly coloured jacket and shoes. A white tunic lay underneath, pairing off with the delicately woven chainshirt of the lightest materials. He'd kept his gray beard trimmed, while his hair remained in a ponytail (Celestia nodded her approval). The enjoyous engagement on his wrinkled, liver-spotted, face mirrored the fillies, waving his hands in the air in mimicry of a bird's flight.

'Found you,' Celestia mouthed.

"Hmm?" Gareth turned.

The foals noticed Celestia, letting out gasps of shock and groans of disappointment.

"Cecilia?" Gareth murmured, smiling at the foals. "Well, that would explain the mixed reaction."

"Gareth," she took an admonishing tone. "You really ought not keep your grandchildren up so late. You did claim to be a responsible grandfather, did you not?"

He turned back to the foals with a cheeky look on his aged face. "Sorry foals, it appears that she is right. The story will have to continue tomorrow, it seems."

"Noo!"

"No, please grandpa!"

Gareth let out a huffing chuckle, gesturing to Celestia. "The Princess hath spoken, I'm afraid the matter is out of my hands."

Celestia frowned. Gareth, you—

The foals turned to her at once, big eyes pleading. 'Please, please big auntie Celestia, don't take our favourite storyteller away!' 'We wanna hear the story!' 'Bedtime is for the bored and the weak!'

Oh fine. Celestia resisted an eye roll. "Very well… finish where you were, Gareth."

"Excellent," Gareth intoned, gesturing amongst the foals. "Please your majesty, seat yourself."

Wait, what? Celestia glanced to the foals – who wriggled in anxious excitement – surely he jests!

"Now-now, Princess, you don't see yourself as being above your subjects… do you?"

Celestia's brow furrowed right down to the muzzle. Yep, she was getting him for this. She walked over to the gaggle of children and settled in. They immediately clamped around her, cooing and sighing.

Alright, perhaps she wouldn't get him quite as much for this. The foals were warm. And adorable. "You may continue, storyteller," Celestia decreed.

Gareth clapped his hands together. "Excellent!" He scooched forward, smiling down at his audience. "Now, this was my first encounter with the glorious phoenix, and what a glory it was. Soaring upon high, with wings of flame and fell screeches! Such a glorious specimen… and a dangerous one. Especially for me, for I had made a rookie mistake. Can anypony here tell me what I did wrong?"

Knowing the answer, Celestia remained silence.

Unfortunately, deafening silence and nervous foals was Gareth's response.

Oh well. "You approached her nest," Celestia answered.

"Correct, Cecilia!” Gareth answered, undeterred. “I did approach the nest, and it was through that misunderstanding that brought about the phoenix's attack! She swooped low, crying loud enough that I could feel the vibrations in my stomach! I hefted my spear and—"

Ah, Philomena's story. Celestia recalled the tragic tale, although Gareth seemed to be spinning it for a younger audience. Instead of getting her egg crushed in a dragon attack and grieving, Gareth made it out to be that she was simply lonely. That loneliness led to her coming to join him in Canterlot. He left out the part about Gareth helping bury her child's remains in the peaceful soil of the Canterlot courtyard.

The story continued past the first foal’s yawn, then the second, and the third. Within a half hour, the entire room dozed. The sounds of snoring replaced storytelling.

"I hadn't realised you'd gotten that boring, Gareth," Celestia whispered.

Gareth shrugged, surveying the room. "They seemed enthralled, and now they are asleep. My job here is done. Help me lift them into bed, won't you?"

"Excuse me?" Celestia stood, golden light coalescing around her horn. "You'll not be lifting any foal at all. At your age there's every chance—"

A foal stirred. "Princess Celestia?" He mumbled.

Gareth stood, groaning into a crouch and stroking the foal's mane. "Shhh, Silver Wing, shhh. Back to bed."

"Mmm…" Silver wing drifted off, tucking his head into his belly.

Guilt panged Celestia's heart. She gave Gareth an apologetic look.

He held no grudge, smiling up at her. Within minutes, Celestia tucked the foals into separate sleeping bags. An up-sized bed, once Noble Era's, stood empty. Apparently meant for Gareth.

"Staying?" Celestia murmured.

"I am," Gareth replied. "I've promised to keep watch."

Oh. Celestia's heart sunk. She was so hoping to get his opinion on the—

A knock on the door disrupted her train of thought.

Gareth grunted once, giving Celestia a significant glance. He strode over, placing a hand on the latch, awaiting her approach.

Celestia joined him. She nodded for him to open.

Gareth nodded back, pulling the door open. On the other side stood a familiar scarred, green-coated, one-winged pegasus. Solo Wing's swept-over mane covered a blinded right eye, while his good, brown eye frowned in confusion. "Mother? What are you doing here? Where's father?"

The disappointment in his voice physically hurt. Celestia bit back a response, gesturing to her right, then to the sleeping ponies behind her. She pulled out Gareth and ushered them outside. "Come on, the both of you, not in here."

"Ah," Solo Wing stepped aside, one wing flapping. He shot Gareth an apologetic expression. "Sorry father, I thought you'd—"

"Fobbed off my duties onto Cecilia?" He chuckled. "I thought about it, but she's terrible at storytime."

Celestia shot him a flat look. "That's quite enough, Gareth. Solo, are you here to…?"

He nodded. "Keep an eye on them? Yeah, I thought father would have nodded off by now, or have them digging through the Courtyard at 2 in the morning. Again."

"Thank you, dear," Celestia sighed.

Gareth muttered something under his breath, giving Celestia an annoyed glance.

Oh Gareth, you delicate flower. "Is something wrong, Gareth?" Celestia asked.

"I know my son is capable. I trained him from the moment I met him," Gareth said, tapping his cane on his chest. "However, I resent the implication that I am no longer capable."

"You aren't," Solo stated.

Celestia cringed. Adopted or no, Solo Wing really did inherit Gareth's tact.

A self-effacing smile spread onto Gareth's face. "Well… yes, but the polite thing to do is contradict me."

"That's not the way you trained me, father."

"And I wouldn't have it any other way, Solo."

"Will you need anything else, Solo?" Celestia asked. "Does your wife know where you are?"

He nodded. "Apple Pie will be up shortly. Please, find a place to rest before father falls asleep standing again."

"Oh please, you're hurting my feelings," Gareth snarked.

Celestia sighed, hooking a hoof into Gareth's elbow. "Come along dear, before you banter each other out of existence."

A set of newly wrought iron doors stood unguarded, twice as high, and twice as wide as any door in Canterlot. Engraved runes shone bright, angrily warning anyone foolish enough to approach without a due cause.

Gareth stood with both hands resting atop his cane, brow furrowing. "Cecilia, what is this place?"

Concern caught in Celestia's chest. She smiled, nervous. Perhaps this wouldn't be such a good idea after all. "This is… do you remember the Equestrian Civil War?"

He gave her a flat look.

Celestia flinched. Right, she deserved that. "When you fought Larms? Below the App—er, Horizon Mansion?"

Sharp brown eyes glazed over. Gareth turned, staring off into the door. His cane creaked beneath his grip. "Then this place is…"

"The final resting place of my spouses," Celestia finished. Wait, that didn't sound right—

He gave her a sardonic look.

"Okay… bad choice of words on my part."

"Give me another few weeks, I'm feeling deader all the time." He turned back. "I assume you've had the original bodies exhumed?"

She nodded. "Yes, with all their personal effects."

"Hrn."

"Shall we?"

"We shall." Stepping forward, Gareth pushed the iron doors open. The mausoleum halls stretched on. Smells of mixed paints filled the air, while white sheets covered the floors. Craftsponies milled about, idly enjoying a lunch break, conversing and trading work orders.

Surprise spiked Celestia's chest. What was all this?! Citrus Peel assured her that all the constructions were complete!

She moved forward, intercepting Gareth with an apologetic expression. "Ah! I-I am so sorry my love, I thought that they'd finished by now!"

Gareth stared, giving no indication to have actually heard her. He looked to the halls, branching off into eras and mirrors.

"Gareth?"

"Hm?" He flinched as if physically struck. Swallowing, Gareth turned to look again. Gout-ridden hands trembled on the cane's grip. "F-forgive me Cecilia, this place… brings back memories."

Celestia's heart plunged deeper. She was afraid of that. "I should've shown you this sooner. I'd hoped it to be a surprise."

He grunted in response, eyes turning, regarding… remembering. "Well," his eyes tracked back, "you certainly surprised me."

Perhaps this wasn't such a good idea. Celestia nuzzled his neck, breathing deep his scent. "Come Gareth, let's go back to bed, I don't—"

"Oh, my, Is that Princess Celestia?!" a proud, nasally voice cried out from a nearby hall. The latest hall.

Dread flushed down Celestia's coats. Please Citrus Peel, don't tell me you—

An orange blur burst from the hall. Citrus peel, Celestia's chief artisan, was an orange pegasus with paint-brush tipped wings, a sweeping blue mane, a recurring picture for a cutie mark and a beret for a hat. He rushed to her side, grinning. "My liege, such a pleasure to see you at this late hour." He leaned in, waggling his brows. "Come to show the husband his future quarters?"

Celestia grimaced. "Please Citrus, you may offend."

"Not dead yet," Gareth grunted.

"Not yet, but soon!" Citrus replied.

Gareth paused. He shrugged, turning to Celestia with a 'well, he's got me there' look.

Relief replaced Celestia's dread. He seemed to be taking the jokes as they were meant. Celestia turned, "Forgive us Citrus, but we were just leaving. I was under the impression that all the construction would be completed yesterday."

Citrus recoiled, looking about the hall with a baffled expression. "Y-yesterday? My liege, we've only had a year to complete the hall! Not to mention the excavations and many, many artifacts to sort through. Wait, you weren't thinking about--" he froze, growing a bashful expression. "Ah, of course. My wording was a bit vague. No, construction is complete… just not on the hall itself, rather, a particular PART of the hall!"

Part? Celestia looked about. "What part?"

A face-splitting grin scrapped Citrus' face. He waved an eager hoof to follow. "Oh, you're both going to love it. Please, come, come!"

His word did little to assuage Celestia's concerns. She stepped in front of Gareth (eliciting another annoyed grunt) and followed Citrus' path. Hopefully whatever it was wouldn't be too distasteful.

Citrus stopped at the foot of a cloth-covered fixture on the wall. From the size and distinctive arched shape, it looked identical to the mirrors affixed to the other halls. For other lost spouses. Pride flowed from Citrus' body and face. He gestured towards it. "Your highness, I present to you the life—"

Celestia's nagging fear flashed into horror.

"—Of Prince Grey Spear!" With a swipe of his hoof, the cloth fell away, unveiling a bright sparks of light underneath. Purple scales of a dragon circled overhead. Gareth stood in the centre, from a younger time. His fingers plucked the bowstrings of a Crystal Empire Icebow, while his face set in grim determination. In the hills behind, an army of Diamond Dogs lay vanquished. On another, a horde of armoured humans, banners broken and defeated. In the sky, a purple-scaled dragoness flew overhead, ice spreading across her chest in her death-throes. All vanquished foes… all past regrets. In the heights of the sun, a figure of an alicorn spread her wings, casting her shadow down upon him. There he stood, ready, waiting, Gareth Fletcher, the hound of the sun remained unimposing, unquestioning. Resolute. Ready to kill.

The sight of it send a deep sickness roiling in Celestia's stomach. She could see nothing in this stained glass painting that Gareth would—

Gareth's cane clicked.

She turned, "Gare—"

Wind brushed past Celestia's face, ending in a glass-exploding crash. The cane's head sent shards sprinkling to the floor. Quiet fury bared its fangs behind Gareth's eyes.

Celestia stared, paralysed.

The cane struck again, digging and ripping. Citrus' stunned moan strung out into an agonised wail as he lunged towards Gareth's side, trying to save his stained mirror, but Gareth knocked him back with a wiping backhand. Undeterred, the enraged human continued to rain blow after blow, tearing the mirror down.

She didn't know if she could stop him without magic. Or if she should even try.

The sound of wood splintering echoed off the hall's walls, the top half of Gareth's cane burst into pieces. The fury in Gareth's shaking hands fell with his knees, collapsing to the shards of glass at his feet.

Celestia's throat felt like a wasteland. She stared at the red-faced, wheezing figure. In her mind's eyes, an image of Gareth at half his age stood in his place, swinging a spear with a possessed rage. Even after all this time, that spectre would never leave him.

Gareth let out a few coughs, trying, and failing, to find his way back to his feet. Doubling over, he pushed onto the ground, but received only cut fingers and crinkling glass for his efforts.

Her heart panged for him. She leaned down, pushing her head through of crook of his arm and lifting him up.

He groaned all the way. Bloodied hands left a crimson trail on her immaculate white coat. Regret flashed on his face as he went about picking shards from his palms.

"Citrus," Celestia began.

The orange stallion, cowering at the end of the hall, flinched at her voice.

She spared a glance to Gareth. "Prince Grey Spear speaks for us both."

Citrus spluttered, his words trying to find purchase, "Th-then what do I-?!"

"Something simple," Gareth muttered, picking out another shard. "Nothing more."

The world rushed back into Twilight's eyes. Gareth's tomb proper returned to her sight. Celestia, still in human form, sat across the table. Her regal pink eyes fluttered open, coming to rest on Twilight.

Corners twisted in Twilight's mind. She had answers, but they only left her with a desire for more! Who was this person? What were humans? How could they have lasted like this? Why, why, why—

"Why didn't you tell me?" Twilight asked.

Silence. Celestia's eyes grew sorrowful.

Sickness pitted Twilight's gut. She didn't mean it like that. "I-I'm sorry, Princess."

Celestia nodded, trying to smile, "So am I. I'd always intended to tell you but something always got in the way. Discord had freed himself… Nightmare Moon… the Grand Galloping Gala, all important things that convinced me to hold it off for another time. Then, when you needed to know most, I told myself 'time was of the essence, it would only confuse you'. So I omitted it." She knitted her hands, sighing. "But now I know that I should have told you everything."

The pained indecision sounded alien to Twilight. She was so used to it sounded like her own thoughts, not Celestia's. "Princess… you don't have to apologise. I believe you had good reasons."

She smiled ruefully. "Thank you, Twilight. I… I wanted you to experience the human world as I had, without bias or suspicions. They are a blind spot that I have developed, one that I cannot truly deal with."

"A blind spot?" Twilight frowned, cupping her chin. "Cadence mentioned understanding what you told her, and even Luna told me that your plans were grand and magnificent. Have I missed something?"

Celestia let out a hollow laugh. "I think Luna forgot 'desperate, and optimistic'. I have experience of the ages with me, and a compulsion for meddling from afar, but sometimes that won't always help you. Sometimes… you have a flaw that you cannot fix, no matter how hard you try. That is why you need others to help you when you fail."

"…Friendship."

"Precisely," Celestia said. She turned to the stone coffin. "When I banished Nightmare Moon a thousand years ago, I tried to fix everything by myself. Soon, ponies became reliant on me. However, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't fix it on my own, and I lost faith. So I ran."

"…Leading to the Equestrian Civil War upon your return."

Celestia nodded. "I didn't want to go back, but my friends helped. One of them… well, you already know him: Gareth. On the other side of the mirror, at my lowest point, he fell in love with me, and I fell for him. He had problems of his own, and so did his race, yet when I returned to Equestria alone, he refused to leave me." Nostalgia glassed over her eyes. "No, he chased me. And then he stayed. Gareth became Gar-eth, became Grey Spear, and became a shadow… a number on a ledger."

Back to this again. Twilight leaned forward. "But why?"

She sighed, staring down at the table. "In time, fear grew in his heart. He feared his people would harm Equestria. After the war in the north, suppressing knowledge of his past and the mirror became his life's goal. He extracted an oath from me to never contact them, only to observe, until such time as they were ready."

"Ready?" Twilight echoed. She sat back, crossing her arms. Were they 'ready'? Sunset Shimmer stole the Element of Magic, and Twilight chased her to recover it. "Wait, when I went after Sunset Shimmer, I spoke with lots of humans! Isn't that breaking your oath?"

"Did you take my oath?"

"No, but—"

"Well then," Celestia said, shrugging her shoulders. "I suppose you aren't bound by it, are you?"

Wait, isn't that… oh. Twilight gave a self-conscious grin. "I see what you did there."

"I had to. Because you have something that I don't," Celestia said, mirroring Twilight's grin. "I've seen you grow from a young, bookish filly to a fully grown alicorn, a princess, who understands friendship better than I do. It is my honest belief that you can succeed where I failed."

Those words lulled Twilight into a trance. Just how much had she learned? There was a lot that could be said about humans, Twilight decided. Once upon a time, they were resistant to magic, now they seemed to be able to intermingle. She had only part of the picture, and she knew it. They weren't bad, her encounters with her friends on the other side proved it, but that didn't mean that they would be good for Equestria, or vice-versa. Sunset Shimmer's rampage cast serious doubt on straight-up peace. No, Twilight would need to be careful. She, wait-- at once, the room grew smaller and heavier. Twilight swallowed down a dry throat. Was this how Celestia felt?

"Twilight? Are you okay?" Celestia asked, placing a hand on hers.

"U-uh, yeah. I-I'm just not sure that revealing Equestria right away is such a great idea…"

"Then don't."

"Huh?"

"Don't reveal it. This is a matter I leave in your hooves."

Woah. Celestia was giving her Carte Blanche to approach this however she wanted. Well now, well… now. She couldn't pass this up. Twilight stepped out of her chair. "I think I understand."

A pleased sigh came from Celestia's throat. She stood with her. "Excellent. I look forward to your plan in another thirty moons."

Thirty moons. Twilight mulled the thought over. "Well, actually… I think I have something more… immediate in mind."

Celestia frowned in confusion. "How do you mean?"

"Star Swirl the Bearded built the Crystal Mirror, right? And I have permission to tackle this however I want, right?"

"Yes, and yes?"

Twilight clasped her hands together. Oh-ho yes. Cadence, your wish for a study-buddy is about to come true. "If that's the case, then I think we're not going to need to wait quite as long for the Mirror to reopen."

Author's Notes:

It's done. Finally. It only took a year and a half.

Thank you, all of you, for sticking with me on this.

Praise be to the betas, John Hood, OkemosBrony, Legion222, Katherine Kerensky & refferree, without this, the story wouldn't be half as readable as it is.

Great thanks to Mandalayain and AdmiralVesca, for which their constant support made this story's culmination a reality.

Cheers to MikeSnipe, for inducting this story into the TheGoodHiE hall. I'll always be grateful for the affirmation.

And to you, my reader, my commenters. I read all of what you have to say, and while I don't respond to all of it, it's your upvotes and feedback that's my reason for continuing on with this.

I love you guys.

Anyway, you're probably wondering what in the heck I'm doing next! The answer is 'I don't know'. Probably alot of non-pony related stuff. If you're hankerin' for more Soulpillar and don't mind if it ain't pony, then I've been running a Steven Universe quest on Spacebattles called 'Just One Human'. Check it out if you like the idea of humans fighting Corrupted Gems instead of leaving it all to the Crystal Gems. Oh, and friendship. Lots of friendship. And shipping too, whatever.

I'm taking suggestions for new story ideas, though. Leave a comment below. If anyone's curious, I can whip up a blog post for current ideas I have there.