Author's Notes:

Theme for this chapter:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xxai29WFiPM

It was a glum procession down from the highlands. The aliens, their journey lengthened by lack of flight, had little option but to follow their newfound host on foot as they descended from the mountains to the foothills, and from the foothills to the plains. It was a long walk, their tall, sturdy silhouettes highlighted against the pink horizon as they traversed rocky ridgelines and mountainous saddles.

It was an uncomfortable march for the Princess of the Sun as well, her heavenly namesake now setting according to her will. She was the only representative of her species to these grim foreigners. Luna had gone ahead earlier in haste, the weight of Twilight, Spike and the wounded Rainbow Dash barely being enough to hinder her flight as she brought them to the sanctuary of Canterlot. It was in confidence that Celestia, an accomplished diplomat, stayed behind to accompany her guests back to the refuge she'd offered, but their quiet nature made the trek nerve-racking in the least.

Conversation had yet to be struck since their initial meeting. The twelve strangers she was leading downhill were all but silent; the only vocalizations any of them had made had been from one of the big green ones- she had yet to learn what they were called- when it growled upon slipping on a sandy patch of the trail.

At first, the alicorn did little to provoke socialization; if they were anything like her own species, she knew they would be internally grieving. They were insistent on burning the bodies of their dead, arranged in a makeshift morgue outside the shell of their crippled craft, a craft that was also torched before leaving. The smoke was now fading into the void of the darkening sky, the blackness simply absorbing the ash and smoke as if welcoming it home. When the princess had tried to express sympathy, she was met with a silence that had yet to be broken.

The procession had reached the base of the foothills when the sun disappeared behind the veil of the horizon. It was here that her company all but disappeared into the night. They moved without noise, the aliens, their footsteps like those of ghosts. The only thing to give away their presence was their glowing eyes, floating and swaying like stars given life, and the princess could not help but feel as if she was in the company of spirits.

Celestia eventually turned to the Arbiter, who had kept his place directly behind her in their promenade through the wilderness, and tried to plant the seed of a dialogue.

"The palace isn't much farther," she assured, hoping for a response; what she received was an affirmative grunt, likely accompanied by a nod could she have seen her counterpart's face.

"We'll be going around to a smaller, more discreet gate by the rear of the bulwark," she said, prying for an answer to receive the same vocalization as before.

She began to accept her companions' stern demeanor, focusing only on the path ahead. The crickets immediately around them were silent, while the echoes of the nocturnal insects in the distance reached across the prairie they traversed. Yellow fireflies danced around them, breaking the darkness one moment at a time, and casting a subtle golden light to be reflected in the stainless, glossy surfaces of the aliens' armor.

The princess eventually felt herself growing weary of the uncorrupted quiet; it made the already lengthy trek seem much longer, her armor heavier, the night darker. She gave consultation a third attempt.

"You don't say much, do you?" she said, trying to establish some degree of approachability with the strangers at her back.

She nearly rejoiced when she received a verbal reply.

"One cannot talk and listen at the same time," said the Arbiter in the darkness behind her, his voice deep and paternal.

"Listen?" the alicorn asked, hoping the seed she'd planted would grow, "How can silence be heard?"

"You have heard it," the Arbiter said cryptically, "and you know its significance. This silence is a testament to the tradition these warriors lead."

"And what tradition is that?" she asked, now past beginning the conversation and fully invested in her audience.

"A tradition of fear," replied the Arbiter from just behind her, "and respect."

The princess stopped, allowing the Arbiter to catch her so as to walk side by side with him. She looked up seeking his eyes, but his head remained oriented forward. Together, they persisted in their journey, the dark around them growing darker as the night aged.

"Do you fear them?" he asked before turning his amber eyes, the fireflies' light glowing in his irises, down to hers, "Do you fear me?"

"Should I have reason to?" the princess replied calmly, raising an eyebrow as she returned the Arbiter's gaze

"Yes," he admitted, "until we come to respect one another."

The princess was taken aback and fell slightly behind the Arbiter's long striding gate, but trotted to catch back up. The Arbiter, his focus once again on the air directly before him and oblivious to the princess' falter in pace, further explained.

"You see, my people have always been respected by our friends," he said, "and feared by our foes."

"You see me as an enemy?" The princess asked, her voice strong but confused, "Is this why you are so silent?"

"Not so much an enemy," the Arbiter explained, "but not yet an ally."

"I am not afraid of you," the princess affirmed after a short silence filled with the symphony of crickets and nocturnal wind in the grass of the prairie.

"Then why are you sneaking us into your home? Such is the only reason to avoid the main gate of any fortress," the Arbiter said, reaffirming that, in his previous silence, he had listened and learned from everything the princess has said, "Are we truly welcome in this palace you claim to be leading us to?"

The alicorn's eyes widened slightly, but before she could defend herself, the Arbiter continued.

"Trust must be earned, and once earned, it must be kept. Trust is a most effective weapon when wielded by traitors and assassins. Take no offense. This is a lesson my people learned in a very... violent manner, and we shall not forget it soon."

The wind blew softly and persistently now, and the fireflies' aerial display was no more. The procession was once again cast into darkness, nothing but meager starlight and a waning moon to light their way.

"I hope to earn your trust then," Celesita said cordially, "so that we may come to respect one another rather than fear one another."

There was a rumble in the Arbiter's throat, but the vocalization was far from hostile.

"When my warriors' safety has been procured," he began, his voice carrying off into the night, "you will have earned my trust. I cannot promise the same for the rest of them."

The Arbiter looked back upon finishing, and Celestia followed his gaze to the only member of their procession clad in white.

"Then it would seem we are on the path of an alliance," the princess said good naturedly.

The outlander was silent for a few moments longer, the mist from his breath in the cold air the only visible part of him as it caught the moonlight in the darkness, like the breath of the night itself.

"Time will tell," he simply said, and with that, he fell behind her once again, and their conversation ended.

The wind blew through the grass like coarse wind chimes, the whispers of the night guiding the group towards their destination; the lights of the city were now becoming visible in the distance, the towers of Canterlot adjacent the peaks of their mountainous foundation ascending into the stars. The atmosphere was lighter now, the silence less complete after having its presence shattered by the first of the newly acquainted species' conversations. It took some time, and a large distance travelled, but eventually the quiet was corrupted again.

"Arbiter," softly came the voice of Shipmaster 'Vadum from the rear of the column, and the silver warrior stood to the side of his marching brothers to join the Commander.

The Arbiter walked at the side of Rtas 'Vadum, but the Shipmaster deliberately slowed his pace, falling behind until the others, still being led by Celestia, were a considerable distance ahead. The Commander's green eyes, glowing in the dark, were locked on the princess, the faint clatter of her armor giving her away. When he was sure the regal mare was out of earshot, he spoke, his voice hushed but still affirmative.

"I fear we may have quite the crisis to deal with," he said, looking briefly to the Arbiter at his side before refocusing on the princess' signature, her faint outline hardly visible even to trained eyes.

"I believe we may agree," came the Arbiter's guttural baritone in response.

"Those Zealots could only have come from a capital ship," continued 'Vadum, "one that could be lingering about this world."

"I know," the Arbiter growled quietly as he looked to his warriors, marching before him in pursuit of the princess.

The Shipmaster sighed, looking up earnestly at his counterpart

"Do you believe they came here to locate an artifact of some kind?"

"It could be that they did," the Arbiter responded, "but we never found the third."

The taller of the two lowered is head slightly, his voice descending as well.

"The future is uncertain. You may be right regarding the nature of this world, the nature of our foe's presence here. They may well be searching for a holy relic," he snorted as he finished, "Let us pray it is not so."

"Yes, but if it is, all life on this world is in danger," the Commander admitted grimly, "The Remnants still believe death the only suitable fate for nonbelievers, and seeing as we are heretics in their eyes, we will burn along with them."

"Nothing is burning yet," said the Arbiter as he stopped, placing a hand on the Commander's shoulder and meeting his eyes in a stern look of reassurance; he clapped his shoulder plate once, and stalked on ahead after the others.

"Let us make sure that does not change."

Elsewhere...

"Ow! Cut it out!" Rainbow Dash exclaimed as she squirmed against the needle, Canterlot Palace's doctor struggling to administer a syringe to the pegasus' swollen ribcage.

"I'm sorry ma'am, but healing magic can only go so far," the unicorn stallion explained as he took a step back from the patient's bed, momentarily giving up his efforts to tend to the thrashing mare, "Your bones are intact now, but we need to give you an antibiotic to deal with the swelling, and to treat any possible infections."

"I'll be fine, just leave me alone!" the cyan mare rebutted, covering the targeted, and very red section of her torso with her wing to prevent any further attempts at the syringe's piercing her hide, "Twilight, tell him to let me be."

"Rainbow," the unicorn began from her seat at the bedside, "we've had a long day. Don't make it any longer."

"Just tell him to get that thing away from me," Rainbow nearly shouted as she inadvertently dodged another attempt by the hovering, magically engulfed needle to administer the required dose of anti-biotic, "and then we can all start winding down."

"It's okay," Twilight said as she rose, and pulled her friend into an embrace, "I only want what's best for you."

The pegasus allowed her muzzle to fall onto Twilight's shoulder, and once Twilight was sure she had her friend's attention diverted, she nodded to the doctor, who quickly stuck the needle into Rainbow Dash's swollen midsection.

"Ow," Dash hissed as she pulled away from Twilight and glared first at the doctor, then at the unicorn, deviously grinning from just beyond a forelimb's reach of the bedside; the doctor packed up his clipboard and medical bag, and vacated the room quickly, allowing Rainbow's seething frustration to be directed solely at Twilight.

"Only what's best," the lavender mare reminded as she placed a hoof on Dash's shoulder, "And see, it's over now. No more shots, no more doctor. Now all we have to worry about is the hospital food."

The unicorn made her way over to a nightstand near the window, darkened by the young night outside, and filled a glass of water from a jug on the tabletop before trotting back to the bedside with the glass in tow.

"I hate needles," grumbled Rainbow Dash as she rubbed her midsection where the needle's cold tip had pushed through her hide, "and this isn't even the hospital. This is the medical wing of Canterlot Palace. The food should be decent, not that green slop they always give me in Ponyville."

Twilight gave the water to Rainbow Dash, who smiled and drank thirstily.

"Thanks," she said as Twilight placed the cup back near the window, staying at the bedside this time as the glass floated away in a lavender essence.

"Don't mention it."

The pegasus shifted around on the bed as she tried to orient herself into a more comfortable position, trying to adjust to the firm hospital mattress and coarse sheets, not near as comfortable as the clouds over Ponyville. As she writhed onto her back, she winced and her wings flared, and Twilight was allowed a fleeting glance at her friend's red and purple ribs, the bruising savage and severe.

"Does it hurt," she asked quietly, genuine concern pervading her tone.

"Yeah," Dash responded in a hoarse whisper, looking directly to the ceiling as she folded her hooves over her chest.

"Has it gotten any better since..."

The pegasus interrupted her with a shaking head, and the both of them sighed. Twilight could only look to the pegasus with admiration. She was tough as nails, but in obvious pain, and there was nothing she could do to help. Healing magic could mend bones and seal cuts, but pain was incurable.

As the two sat in relative silence, keeping each other company, the door swung quietly open, and the clip-clop of hooves on the tiles approached from outside.

"Dashie!"

A sudden pink blur zipped to the bedside from the room's entrance, and after Twilight blinked away the initial confusion, she saw Pinkie Pie wrapped around Rainbow Dash in a very sincere, albeit firm embrace. The look of anguish on Rainbow Dash's face was a testament to the pain she felt as the vice of Pinkie's forelimbs closed around her chest, but she dared not retreat from the hug; she knew Pinkie was worried for her sake, but was undoubtedly wishing she was only gentler.

The sound of three more sets of hooves entered the room, and Pinkie finally let Dash breathe again as Twilight looked back to see her closest friends enter the room.

"Hey," the lavender mare said in a cordial greeting, her eyes lighting up as she met her friends' worried expressions.

"Oh, it's good to see you two," Rarity sighed upon seeing Rainbow in the bed and Twilight at her side, "We feared the worst."

"How y'all holdin' up?" drawled Applejack as she reached the foot of the bed, rearing up and placing her forelimbs on the bedframe to inspect Rainbow.

"I'm fine," Twilight said as she stood, vacating her chair to join them, "but Rainbow's a little banged up."

"Oh, you poor thing," Fluttershy soothed as she saw her fellow pegasus' ribcage, promptly to pull the sheets up gently to cover her friend's bruises.

"I've been through worse," Dash brooded as her friends came to encircle her, occupying every corner of the bedside.

The atmosphere seemed lighter now; friends had a tendency to do that. It was as if a burden had been lifted from the room, and despite Rainbow's pain not having changed, it seemed more bearable now.

"We heard all about what happened," Rarity said slowly as she patted Rainbow's hoof, causing the eyebrows of Twilight to rise.

"You did?" Twilight asked, her tone somewhere between concern and surprise.

"I bet it was tree gnomes," Pinkie hissed from the bedside, glaring at the wall with vengeance burning in her baby blue eyes.

"What?" Dash managed to whisper in response to Pinkie's accusation, looking to Twilight for reassurance.

"I was just telling them in the waiting room a bit ago," announced the familiar voice of Spike as he too entered the room, a vase of yellow roses in his talons, "how Dash was hit by a falling tree."

The drake found his way to the bedside too, inhaling deeply the essence of the roses, and allowing Dash to inspect them as well. He placed them on the nightstand, picking one for himself and placing it between his teeth, raising his eyebrows at Rarity in the process; the alabaster mare only rolled her eyes and smiled.

"I never told you how nice those flowers are, Spike," admired Rarity in good humor as Twilight and Dash's expressions contorted into something strange, "It certainly brings a bit of much needed color to the room. Otherwise it's very... plain."

"And not just flowers, but roses in bloom," Fluttershy continued on the tangent, "They're sure to make it smell much nicer in here."

Applejack agreed, and Pinkie did too, and the four newest equine occupants of the room fell into a brief conversation of their own. Twilight, seeing as the others were distracted, leaned down to Spike, and let that which had twisted her face into an expression of bewilderment out.

"You lied?" Twilight hissed into the dragon's ear, quietly enough for the others not to hear.

"Princess Luna told me to keep quiet about the aliens for now," Spike whispered, just loud enough for Rainbow and Twilight to hear as he rearranged the flowers on the nightstand, not looking up so the others would have no idea he was even speaking, "She needed a reason to get the Elements of Harmony to Canterlot... just in case."

Twilight looked to Dash and Dash to Twilight, volumes spoken in their silent gazes. Spike was acting, and effectively too, portraying a scene of normality on this day of sheer turbulence. The Elements of Harmony were the most powerful weapon in Equestria's arsenal. Seeing that all six of their embodiments were in the same place, should the Elements need to be used, they could be employed in a relatively short time. Strategically, it was brilliant on the princess' part, but why would it be necessary? The hostile aliens were dead, and their killers had since been declared friends, more or less. Obviously, the princesses knew something they didn't, and obviously, they wanted as few ponies as possible to become involved.

Rainbow's eyes were worried, and there was uncertainty in the lavender of Twilight's as well. But, they had to trust Luna. So they shared a phony smile, and wearing their masks of reassurance, they tried to enjoy the company of their friends as if everything was fine.

Meanwhile...

The palace's lights were upon the conglomerated procession now, the darkness cast away by the sentry fires, high on the bulwark of Canterlot's perimeter. The gates the procession stood before now were large, strong and ornate, despite their secondary nature as the rear entrance to the fortress. The many towers rose up to the heavens it seemed, so high that their tops were beyond the effect of the fires' light, and yet the mountain the complex was built into rose even higher than that. The ivory towers glinted with the light of the stars as if covered in billions of white sparkles, and the essence of silver and gold seemed profuse in the engravings and inlays of the columns and structures. The entire building was a testimony to its builders' skill and craftsmanship, as well as their resolve.

"A grand palace," the Arbiter admired sincerely from the princess' side, craning up at the boundless architecture.

"I have seen bigger," spat the Shipmaster, pushing past the Arbiter, who was still peering up at their host's home.

Before the many Sangheili, who stood assembled behind their leaders as they inspected their setting, the princess took a stance in front of the ornate yet immense gates. There were no sentries posted, no sentient soul anywhere near the gates to throw them open. But the princess, despite the doubts of her onlookers, merely stamped her hoof into the dirt before the entryway, and like the awakening of a giant, the gates slowly parted.

"Follow me," the alicorn said as she strode through the threshold, the interior of the walls devoid of any onlookers, "I'll take you to your rooms."

The procession followed, their arms swinging freely despite the many weapons they carried, and their eyes alert. The princess led them through a large uninhabited courtyard of sorts, past gardens with ponds and trees, statues and fountains, and while the beauty was noticed by the foreigners, it was not focused upon. The alicorn brought them to the end of the courtyard and into one of the towers, and after climbing a set of stairs, into a large, vacant dining hall.

"Where are all of her attendants?" asked Shipmaster 'Vadum in a hushed tone to the Arbiter at his side, "She is a royal, is she not?"

They traversed the spacious hall, leaving through a pair of doors on its far side, and entered a long, ivory corridor proceeding for as far as the eye could see. The alicorn coerced them some distance down the corridor, to a place where the halls were lined with sealed wooden doors.

"This is where you will be staying," Princess Celestia announced as she stopped her promenade and turned to face her guests.

The aliens seemed to only stare at her blankly, a few looking about the high vaulting ceilings of the hallway, confused. Her company stood motionless, their wide individual girth and muscular stature causing them to stand cramped together in the relatively narrow hallway.

"These corridors are where you will find your rooms," she explained, trying her best to sound authoritative, "The hall, back the way we came, is where meals are served. I couldn't help but notice, some of you seem to be in need of medical attention."

The Arbiter snorted while a slight rabble arose from the others, and he looked away from the alicorn.

"That will not be necessary," he snarled.

"Well, should you need anything," the mare persisted, "you have only to ask. Until then, please, make yourselves comfortable."

The aliens continued to look around aimlessly, until one of the black armored warriors gingerly nudged a set of the wooden double doors, causing it to creak slowly open. He, and several others, peered through the parted doors to see the bedroom within, and grunts of approval sounded from within the ranks. To the princess, their inspection of their new, undoubtedly foreign environment was almost comical.

"The entire East Wing is yours alone," she said as cordially as possible, "You will not be bothered here."

The Arbiter only bobbed his head slightly, and went through the hall opening each of the double doors one pair at a time while the others spread throughout their newfound barracks. The Arbiter stopped after opening several of the rooms, and took time to look inside. He ducked under the doorway, which was clearly built to accommodate a much shorter race, and stepped into the room.

His first impression was one of lavish luxury. The accommodation was very clean, well kept and roomy. The furniture was made of a very richly colored wood, and the metals on the door handles and drawers were made of a lustrous golden metal. There was a bed of sorts in the center of the room's largest wall, a canopy draped above its mattress, but the bed was far too short for any Sangheili to fit on. The walls were white; everything in the whole palace seemed white, unstained and pure.

The windows, expansive sections of crystalline glass on the far wall, exposed a view of the East, the moonlight pouring into the room from high above the darkened horizon. He turned towards the door, but he stopped when he saw that the cabin had a second room. He entered, and found that the floor was different in the second section, colored in marble tiles rather than the rugs of the sleeping quarters. There was a tub, marble as well, but too small for him to climb into. It seemed to be a lavatory, but very different from any he had ever used.

His inspection complete, the Arbiter again turned to leave, but froze when he saw that he was not alone. In the doorway adjoining the chamber's two separate rooms stood another Sangheili, his posture hunched and waiting. The Arbiter had not even heard Commander 'Vadum enter the room.

"Arbiter," he said calmly as the argent warrior relaxed, "the others are requesting to be quartered in pairs, so as to maintain a sleep rotation."

"They may be accommodated as they please," he responded as he began the walk back into the hallway, the Shipmaster at his side, "It appears that there will be enough space for them to do so, but remember that we are guests. The home of our host is to be treated with respect."

They entered the corridor, the Sangheili now dispersed throughout the separate rooms. The Hunters, however, stood exactly where they'd been left.

"See to it that the Mgalekgolo are kept appeased, lest they become destructive," instructed the Arbiter as he continued his inspection, peering into the other rooms to notice their many trinkets and valuables decorating the nightstands and tables, "Make sure that nothing is broken."

The Shipmaster nodded, and began going from room to room distributing the Arbiter's orders, his voice authoritative and his word obeyed as law. It was not long until the Mgalekgolo were herded into one of the rooms with a Sangheili auditor, and the singular cabin's breakables moved in black armored arms to other, less risky quarters.

As the Arbiter watched and the Shipmaster supervised the warriors' settling into their new dwelling, the voice of the princess climbed over the commotion.

"Arbiter," she said from the opposite end of the corridor, "a word."

The argentate warrior moved to respond to the alicorn's request, but a hand landed on his shoulder before he could reach her. He turned around, to see the Shipmaster once again at his side; how he simply manifested near him was a talent in its own regard. The Arbiter shrugged his hand free, and gave a perplexed look to his counterpart, whose scarred brow was set in a very familiar scowl.

"I still do not trust her," the Commander growled, low enough for his words to be heard only by his intended audience.

"Yet she has fulfilled her promise," the Arbiter said, gesturing to the hall they occupied, "given us shelter and offered us food when we have nothing."

"It will take more than the bestowment of comforts to earn my credence," the Shipmaster responded fervently, "Until I am sure that she is indeed an ally, I will not leave your side."

The Arbiter looked into his comrade's fiery green eyes, then back to the princess, her posture elegant as she patiently waited for him to reach her.

"Very well," the Arbiter agreed, looking back to 'Vadum with an urgent seriousness in his tone, "but I urge you to refrain from matters of politics."

"I am content to remain a warrior," the Commander said with a nod, and with that, he followed his counterpart to the princess.

When they reached her, the alicorn seemed different. Her armor was gone; where she'd dispensed it was a mystery, but it could have been anywhere. She had disappeared after showing them to their rooms and later rematerialized where she stood now. She seemed smaller without the gilded plates of metal covering her alabaster hide, and while she seemed less imposing physically, her demeanor was still that of a ruler. She greeted them with a smile, but it seemed insincere as her jaw set into place and her coral eyes focused on the Shipmaster.

"I thought that, as the leaders of our respective factions," she said to the Arbiter after glancing shortly to the Commander, "we may discuss the events of late."

"Anything you have to say to me," the Arbiter rumbled, "my friend may hear as well."

"As you see fit," the princess said as she gave another smile, which disappeared before she turned and led them deeper into the palace.

They traversed more corridors and staircases as they went, their footfalls echoing through the seemingly vacant palace. The halls were lined with lavish displays of art: embroideries, stone busts, paintings, glass and metal workings, all set on display on elegantly formed pieces of furniture amidst cultivated flowers to no doubt show off the elegance of the palace even more so. Eventually they came to another set of gargantuan doors, which once unsealed, revealed a massive court. The expansive room was well lit and well decorated, stained glass and elegant tapestries hanging from the walls to display symbols of inarguable nobility. On the far side of the cavernous room a pair of thrones were arranged side by side, one of them occupied by the darker mare from earlier in the hills, her armor absent as well. They followed the princess to the stairs ascending up to the thrones, and paused at their base while the alicorn took her seat, and once facing them, she sighed.

"What is it you wish to discuss?" the Arbiter asked, his height allowing him to look the princess, in her elevated throne, nearly eye to eye.

"Forgive me, Arbiter," Celestia began, finding a comfortable spot on her massive chair, "but I believe I have been remiss. Here I have invited you into my home, and formalities have not been struck between any of us. We are the representatives chosen to bear witness to the first contact between our great races. And yet, I do not even know the name of your species, let alone your name."

The ivory mare straightened up, cleared her throat, and began the introductions.

"I am Celestia, Princess of the Sun, and Warden of the Day," she said before turning to the alicorn seated next to her, "This is my sister, Luna, Princess of the Moon and Stars, and Warden of the Night. We are the co-rulers of Equestria."

"As for our race," continued Princess Luna from Celestia's side, "equines or simply ponies are the blanket terms, though there are different species within this genus. Pegasi, unicorns, alicorns... but you will become familiar with them in time."

The small talk was interrupted by an awkward silence as the foreigners hesitated in response, as if the cordial, idle conversation was outlandish to them.

"And the small reptile," began the Arbiter slowly, "the one along with your... ponies?"

"A dragon," answered Celestia with a nod, "one who has yet to mature."

Again, the royal equines looked to their guests in anticipation, the silence intruding on their alliance's christening. It was obvious that they were expecting their identification reciprocated, their patient eyes and attentive ears hoping for the meeting's continuation. The Arbiter and his comrade shared a hesitant glance before breaking the quiet with their response.

"Shipmaster," said 'Vadum hoarsely as he bowed his head slightly.

"Shipmaster?" repeated Princess Luna, raising an eyebrow as the outlander shared what she had expected to be a name.

"My rank will be sufficient for now," he furthered, his voice a persistent, constrained growl.

Another silence came shortly after, making the conversation's flow erratic. The princess' posture remained unchanged, and they continued waiting for their patrons to speak as if the pleasantries were the beginning of a therapy session. They clearly wanted the information they'd shared to be returned.

"Sangheili," muttered the Arbiter articulately, causing the tolerant expressions of the mares to be broken by surprise and confusion.

"Hmm?" responded the darker of the princesses.

"Our race," came the response, "We are called Sangheili."

"Sageelie?" inquired Princess Celestia.

"Sangheili," came the correction from Shipmaster 'Vadum as he crossed his arms, each syllable annunciated eloquently.

"Sangaily," repeated the white alicorn, butchering the pronunciation again.

"If it is less troublesome," the Arbiter began as the Commander sighed in futility, "there are other names by which our species is known, names created with brevity and ease in mind."

"And what might these names be?" asked the smaller mare.

"Elites," said the Arbiter, "A simple moniker bestowed by a previous enemy in a conflict since past."

The princesses glanced to each other briefly, the implications of the simple title reverberating through their thoughts.

"And the large ones in your company?" Celestia asked, turning back to the towering pair before her, "They are Elites as well?"

"Mgalekgolo," answered the Commander, causing the eyes of the princesses to dilate upon hearing the name announced.

"Hunters," the Arbiter corrected, "A name also bestowed by this previous foe of ours."

The equines sighed in relief upon the Arbiter's conclusion, then assumed the same expectant posture as they had before. The Arbiter knew why.

"You know my title," he said, stepping up one stair closer to the sisters as he spoke, "Do you wish to know my name?"

"You are called Arbiter," replied the Princess of the Sun, leaning forward in her chair as she abandoned her congenial disposition for something more serious, "I wish to know what cause calls for your judgment."

The Arbiter looked down to the Shipmaster, whose unbroken gaze said enough in his voice's silence.

"You would label survival a cause?" the Arbiter said as he turned back to the princesses; their eyes implored him for explanation.

"Have you any concept of war?" he continued, turning his head down and slightly to the side.

"Yes," responded Celestia strongly.

"And what of genocide?"

The pair visibly recoiled as the Arbiter finished, but before they strayed in their surprise, he extended his speech.

"This is the scale our wars are fought on," he iterated, "This is the scale of our kind's capacity for destruction. There is never any surrender, and never any mercy. Our peace is not made until all our enemies lay dead."

The princesses were visibly taken aback by the Arbiter's passionate tone and haunting words, but he continued in earnest despite their obvious and warranted discomfort.

"Our race is currently divided against itself over the results of a war that has since seen an end. There are those of us who have made peace with our past enemies, and those that still wish for war," the burly, argentate outlander continued, conviction imbuing every word, "As the Shipmaster has said, if we do not cleanse our kind from the ideals of the fanatics with which we wage war, then they will surely exterminate us and those that stand beside us in our quest to make amends for our past."

"Is this how you came here?" asked Luna, but before the Arbiter could respond, the Shipmaster seized his shoulder, and spoke to him in a hushed tone.

"Arbiter, I urge you to withhold some things from them," he admonished, "There can be sanctity in the unknown."

"We both seek answers from the other," the Arbiter counseled, "If the Remnant has stayed on this world, they surely did so for a reason. If there is an artifact here, we cannot survive the Remnants' onslaught alone. We need their support, and to gain it, we need their trust."

"So earn their trust, not their apprehension," advised 'Vadum, "I do not question your judgment, but I worry the whole truth may be too much for them to bear at once."

The Arbiter nodded and 'Vadum stepped down, returning the gesture, and the interspecies discussion continued.

"Do you recall the warriors in red," the Arbiter began, "the ones that attacked your subjects earlier?"

The alicorns nodded affirmation, and beckoned for him to continue.

"They were an advance team of scouts, Zealots in rank, loyal to a faction called the Covenant Remnant, one of the factions that considers us, the Swords of Sanghelios, an enemy."

"These Remnants are what remains of this, Covenant?" asked Celestia hesitantly, her ears eager to hear what the Arbiter had to say.

"Yes," he responded sternly.

"And what exactly is the Covenant?" inquired Luna; the Arbiter only snorted again.

"What you ask would take days to explain."

"So summarize," bid Celestia, her tone dry as her patience began to fade.

The Arbiter sighed, and looked back to the Shipmaster once again as he delayed action with thought.

"The Covenant was once a mighty and honorable empire comprised of many races from across the galaxy," he began, looking back to his hosts, "United under one religion, the Covenant scoured the galaxy for what the gods had left behind in the pursuit for transcendence. What artifacts that were found were used to promote the agenda of the Hierarchs as they led their followers towards the Great Journey."

The princesses, in the interest of brevity, accepted that they would not understand the majority of what the Arbiter had to say; rather, they pressed for more pertaining information.

"And, why have they come here?" asked Luna.

"They could be here hunting us, the survivors of the battle," admitted the Arbiter, only to cause the eyebrows of the mares to descend into mild glares.

"What battle?" inquired Luna.

"There was no battle fought here," added Celestia concernedly.

"Not on this world," said the Shipmaster, his arms still crossed, "but above it the fires raged."

The alicorns shared an uneasy look, but the Arbiter only continued.

"We tracked a small battle-group of the Remnant's ships to this system. We engaged them, not knowing the planet was inhabited. Our singular craft was shot down in the first wave of the attack. After we were grounded, our enemy gained a tactical advantage when they destroyed a large portion of our communications jammers. They called for reinforcements, and outmatched, our fleet was forced into retreat."

"You were defeated?" asked Luna, only to have the Shipmaster step forward defensively with his fists balled.

"While we live," he snarled, "we have not been defeated."

"A battle gone awry can misplace the souls of those who partake," said the Arbiter, his tone calmer than his counterpart, "This is how we came to this world you call home."

The alicorns again shared an uneasy look before adopting an even more attentive posture.

"They may also be here searching for holy artifacts," continued the Arbiter, "as was the purpose of the Covenant some time ago, but I do not know. The reasons for their battle-group coming to this world in the first place are unknown."

"Holy artifacts?" asked Celestia, raising her eyebrow as she eyed her tenants.

"In the days of the Covenant's prime," explained the Arbiter, "it was the Zealots, always in threes, who went on ahead of the fathoms to find holy relics, and prepare them for the arrival and interpretation of the Hierarchs. The Hierarchs have since been eradicated, but Jul 'Mdama, the Remnant's leader, still seeks the wares of the gods."

"So, you believe this enemy of yours has been brought here by their religion?"

"Do not mock the faith of my fathers," rumbled the Shipmaster hostilely, "Our gods were real, and I have seen the temples and tombs they left behind. So grand in scale are they, that they are nothing less than divine."

"While faith still runs strong within our race," furthered the Arbiter, "'Mdama's interest in the gods' artifacts is due to their power. The Covenant has always used the technology of the divine to create weapons, with which they extend their shadow of influence. The now dead Hierarchs of the Covenant bastardized the honorable, reverent faith of the Sangheili with manipulative greed and sinful treachery in their use of the relics, hence the Covenant's schism. We were branded heretics for accepting this truth, and so this war began."

"I fail to see why this instigated aggression towards my citizens in the mountains," Celestia countered flatly to cause an uneasy sigh from the Sangheili.

"Suffering and death are the only fates the Covenant deems suitable for non-believers," the Arbiter grumbled, "If they have indeed concluded that this world is of importance to the Covenant's sect of faith, then simply, your presence here as heathens would be seen as an affront."

Celestia glared slightly, shaking her head as she obviously conveyed her doubt.

"And how do you know this?"

The Arbiter turned his head with a growl.

"Because I used to be one of them."

Luna visibly shied away, sitting back in her throne as Celestia's heart skipped a beat, and the Arbiter once again stepped closer.

"We have a mutual enemy in the Covenant Remnant, noble princesses," he assured, "and your homeland may very well be in danger. We will fight this enemy of ours whether you stand by us or not. Will our alliance continue? The decision is yours, and yours alone. If you must take time to think, then do so. We can adjourn, if it is your will."

Luna looked to Celestia for confirmation, her worried eyes conveying her own opinions. Celestia knew what her sister was thinking; she agreed. The Arbiter knew their response before he received an answer.

"We shall take our leave until morning," he said, and led the way out of the court, the pair of Sangheili shrinking in stature as they receded back towards the entrance until they disappeared through the doors, leaving the throne room in echoing silence as the shock of the conversation slowly dissipated.

The mares took a few moments to breathe deeply, rearranging the thoughts in their heads before seeking consultation from one another.

"How are our little friends doing?" Celestia asked deliberately, avoiding the weight of the most recent issue to be brought to their attention for a short time.

"Rainbow Dash had three broken ribs, but the unicorns have repaired her well," answered Luna, fluttering down from her throne, "Her only injuries now are severe bruises."

Princess Celestia sighed in relief, and as she too vacated her seat to join her sister, she refocused.

"How did they strike you?" she asked, beginning a stroll to the rear of the throne room, through a small set of doors and into yet another long hallway.

"The Arbiter, I like," admitted Luna, "His bodyguard, I do not. They strike me as equally passionate and focused, but the Arbiter at least seems to be trying to trust us. The Shipmaster, I feel, is very suspicious of us."

Celestia sighed, remembering a portion of the conversation she'd held with the Arbiter on the plains.

"He is trying to make us fear him," Celestia concluded, nodding as they rounded a corner in the hall, its walls, sparsely occupied by stoic guards at their posts, made extravagant with massive paintings and tapestries befitting a royal sanctuary, "and we have reason to be afraid."

"If they are telling the truth," Luna countered, her head held high as she strode beside her sister.

"So you are suspicious of them as well?" asked Celestia, knowing full well what the answer was.

"Of course I am," Luna replied, careful to mind her voice's volume, "They bring ominous news. We lived in peace until they came along, and now they bring us threats of apocalypse."

"Perhaps it is wrong to think the Shipmaster's bitterness misplaced then," reasoned the taller of the pair, "if we mirror his sentiments."

"Their words were eerily reminiscent of Star Swirl's prophecy, though I have not yet memorized its words," contemplated Luna, her gaze turned downwards in thought.

"Nor have I. It was but a lingering memory this morning, and time came to act upon this memory when we received Twilight's letter. But I do recall there being mention of fire in the heavens and on earth, stars swept from the sky and the Fallen rising from the ashes," Celestia paused as she reran the words and implications through her head, "It appears Star Swirl's premonitions may prove true once again."

The metallic click of ornate horseshoes against marble tile rang through the corridors of the palace, thought filled silence seeming to hang in the air.

"Have you ever heard of anything like what they were speaking of, relics left behind by the divine?" Luna asked as they escaped earshot of the sentry they'd passed most recently, her tone somewhere between confusion and concern.

"The only thing that comes to mind is the Tree of Harmony, perhaps even Tartarus," answered the Princess of the Day, "They predate our rule, so their true age and origin is unknown."

"The matter remains," Luna continued after a short contemplation, "We have a choice to make, and much rests on it. Shall we let events run their course, or shall we seize control of our own fate? Shall we pursue the Covenant Remnant alongside our new guests, or will we set them loose and refrain from any hostilities?"

"Hostilities have already found us," Celestia said, her very words heavy with regret and worry, "War has been declared, unofficially, and Equestria is at stake. Inaction is not an option, and this Remnant is an obvious and very grave enemy of ours."

"How does the saying go? The enemy of my enemy is my friend," Luna added, looking up for confirmation.

"And so we have found friends," Celestia nodded, "And an enemy, but from what the Arbiter has said, it seems that if we choose a side, we will be forced to stand along with them until the end. This war that has found us, according to them, will not end until one faction has been annihilated."

"This is not the first grave threat Equestria has faced," Luna reminded, conviction in her heart as the words came forth.

"Yes," Celestia agreed softly, "but it very well may be the largest."

Another silence, filled with the sound of hoof steps returning from the farthest reaches of the rebounding corridors they traversed.

"I did tell Spike, Twilight and Rainbow Dash to refrain from speaking of the incident until we can decide what course of action would be best," Luna said informatively, "As is clear, the last thing we need right now is a panic among the populace."

"I doubt they would react rationally to learning that aliens are being kept in Canterlot, or anywhere in Equestria for that matter," Celestia said, forcing a chuckle, "Twilight had already offered them shelter before we had any chance to arrange a plan regarding their accommodations, leaving us little choice but keep them here. I do think a congregation of extraterrestrial giants strolling into Ponyville would have given us more than just the Remnant and this prophecy to worry about."

The darker alicorn returned the laugh, though it was far from hearty.

"Let us hope that the night brings us no more surprises."

The princesses reached a pair of massive double doors opposite each other in the hall, one marked with a radiant depiction of the sun, the other with a silver crescent moon: their personal chambers, guarded on either side by gilded royal guards.

"You look weary," Luna said as she turned to Celestia, finally seeing the dark circles under her sister's eyes, "It has been a full day. I can maintain our keep until the night's end."

Celestia sighed, smiling a bit as she too realized the toll the day's events had taken.

"'Til then, I shall take my leave, sister," the ivory alicorn said, giving a slight, playful curtsy.

"And I shall begin my watch," Luna sighed, bowing her head formally as she bid her sister farewell, "I hope rest brings you clear thoughts, that we may have reached an answer by morning. I will see you at dawn."

Celestia gave a smile, and quietly pushed the doors to her bedchamber open. The click of the doors' resealing seemed like thunder in the wake of the silence that followed, and in a deceptively peaceful palace, the Princess of the Night turned, breathed, and was overcome with an overwhelming feeling of fear. Not fear for herself, but fear for her home, and countless others that called Equestria home as well. She looked at the guards, their blank expressions of discipline far from approachable, but she knew they were hers to protect as much as it was their duty to protect her. It was her duty to protect all her citizens, and here she had learned of something that could give them great harm.

But, she shook such notions from her head, and told herself that it would never be so. She had to maintain a character of immunity to weakness, and fear made one weak. She kept herself from faltering, while her mind weighed on her cocked shoulders and erect neck. And with that, she reassumed the posture of regality, and returned to her duties, her obsidian horseshoes' striking of the marble ringing through the halls.

The bustle of the initial settling was over when the Arbiter and Rtas 'Vadum made it back to their accommodations; the others had settled in for the night, the wooden doors to each room firmly shut. Still, the theme of silence persisted as the metallic sound of their boots' falling resounded through the still air of the palace, and as they strode through the corridor in relative privacy, thoughts became words.

"You hid the consequences of defeat from them," 'Vadum said with a trace of surprise in his voice.

The Arbiter did not falter in his gate as he spoke over his shoulder to his counterpart.

"Would you have me tell them their world could end?"

The Shipmaster's head only bobbed as he considered the consequences of such a revelation.

"It may bring a much needed ally to our side," he speculated, "and invigorate their fight against their doom."

"We do not know why the Remnant is here yet," reminded the Arbiter sternly, "It could very well be that we are the cause of their presence, that they have simply made us their prey. There is a difference between genocide and what occurred earlier. The Covenant makes an enemy out of non-believers, but to exterminate them is an entirely separate act."

"With the way you were speaking, I thought you would tell them what the Covenant does to planets it deems sullied. Hence, my feeble attempt at political strategy," 'Vadum admitted.

"Your counsel was sound," the Arbiter replied honestly, "I will reveal the whole truth when I deem it necessary, lest they be frightened off by an uncertain future."

They reached the place where their kind was being quartered, and paused in their stroll.

"I will remain awake for a short while longer," the Shipmaster informed, "The largest of the rooms in this wing has been reserved for you, and you alone."

The Arbiter shook his head.

"You still do not feel secure within these walls?"

"No," rumbled the Commander, "and until I do, I will remain watchful. We learned the cost of a lack of vigilance when the Covenant split. That conversation brought memories back. I will not see them relived."

The Arbiter felt a sinking feeling as he too remembered the massacre of the Councilors, the rage and confusion he'd felt as the transmissions of their deaths were broadcast to all Covenant fleets, their betrayal made into a display of the Hierarchs' immunity, immunity that had since been proven false and far from blasphemous. He looked back to the Commander with the wrath of memory and the fire of vigor in his eyes.

"May your watch be uneventful, sentinel," he said with a salute, "I will see you on the sun's rising."

He turned as the Shipmaster placed a fist over his breast, and found his way through the doors of the room he had inspected earlier. The moonlight was brighter now, the room cast into a pale, transient light as veils of clouds cast sporadic darkness onto the ground.

The Arbiter looked at the bed, and was reminded how small the resident race was compared to his own kind. Conventional sleeping habits would not do. He looked around. The chairs were too small as well, as were the sofas. He eventually decided on the corner, and slumped down with his back against the wall and his feet extended outwards comfortably. This was a good place to sleep; he could see the doorway, and he could not be seen by another through the massive window. A good, tactical, prepared place to sleep.

The darkness called to him like a lullaby, the silence a comfort that had proven its elusiveness in recent years, and eventually, the Arbiter's eyes drifted closed, and he fell into an uneasy sleep.